Secret Service Under Pitt

The viceroy, Camden, writing two days later, says: 'He [Cox] seems able to give much important information;'794 but Camden assumes this merely on the strength of the fact mentioned in Cooke's letter, and Cox does not seem to have compromised his friends by any actual disclosure. Arthur O'Connor, addressing Dr. Madden in 1842, declared that Cox remained always faithful to him, and also to Lord Edward Fitzgerald. Whatever changes may have taken place in his conduct, it was not until after Lord Edward's death and O'Connor's exile. While there was a chance of success, he was one of the staunchest men in Ireland to their cause. Had O'Connor – a person of great vanity – dreamt that Cox called him an enthusiast, and Lord Edward weak, his praise might perhaps have been modified.

In 1803, when Dublin Castle was dismayed by the outbreak of Emmet's rebellion within shadow of its walls, I find addressed to Cox the copy of a letter from Under-Secretary Marsden requesting him to call upon him, and 'nobody would be the wiser.' Cox replies in writing to the effect that he did not care how public their communications should be; and certainly at this time he cannot be called 'a spy,' if indeed he ever was.

The Viceroy Hardwicke wrote, soon after, an official vindication of his conduct; and he mentions incidentally that it had been meditated to place Cox under arrest as a dangerous democrat. His 'Irish Magazine' is a marvellous medley, and contains, intermingled with some rubbish, a good deal of valuable matter useful for future reference. Having been put in the pillory more than once for his writings, and finally been sentenced to pay a fine of 300l., and enter into security himself for one thousand, with two others of 500l. each, to keep in good behaviour for seven years, as well as suffer one year's confinement in Newgate, Cox at last consented, on receiving a pension of 100l. a year, to expatriate himself to America. This Lord Mulgrave stopped in 1835, and the death of Cox occurred soon after.795

'REMEMBER ORR!'

(See chap. xxi.)

Documents previously quoted make ambiguous reference to the fate of William Orr. This unfortunate person was arraigned at Carrickfergus in September 1797, for having administered to a soldier named Wheatley the United Irishman's oath. He was found guilty on evidence so glaringly bad that Baron Yelverton, in sentencing him, sobbed. Most of the inhabitants left the town to mark their horror of the sacrifice. Newspapers of the last century did not deal much in sensational headings. The Courier, an influential London journal, of December 25, 1797, affords some exception: —

'Murder Most Foul! – The Irish papers which arrived this morning contain the affidavits of the Rev. George Macartney, D.L., magistrate for the county Antrim; the Rev. James Elder, Dissenting Minister; and of Alexander Montgomery, Esq., stating that Hugh Wheatley – one of the witnesses brought forward by the Crown against Mr. Orr, lately executed in Ireland – had confessed that he had been guilty of perjury and murder!!'

Some of the jury also came forward and admitted that they were drunk when they gave their verdict. These facts, duly deposed to and attested, were laid before the Viceroy, Lord Camden, by the magistrate who had caused Orr to be arrested, 'and who,' writes Dr. Madden, 'when he found the practices that had been resorted to, used every effort, though fruitlessly, to move Lord Camden to save the prisoner. Orr was executed because of his known connection with the United Irish system, but not on account of the crime legally laid to his charge.'

The date of Lord Camden's fatal decision, in reply to the influential appeal which had reached him, merits attention. Turner, on October 8, 1797, disclosed to Downshire – for the private information of the Government – a list of men, including 'two Orrs,' who, he said, were members of the Executive Directory of the United Irishmen; and Camden, probably, thought that Orr, who then lay in jail, adjudged guilty of having administered the rebel oath, was one of them. On October 13, Camden surprised Great Britain quite as much as Ireland, by deciding that William Orr should hang, and within forty-eight hours he suffered death.796 A painful sensation passed through the country: Drennan's fine lyric, 'The Wake of William Orr,' will live as long as 'The Burial of Sir John Moore.' 'Remember Orr' were the last words in the manuscript which hanged Sheares. The fate of Orr had more effect in hurrying rebellion to a premature explosion than all the efforts of Tone, McNevin, and O'Connor. The latter urged that Ireland should strike without further waiting for French aid.

Dr. Madden re-awakened interest in this case of Orr by claiming to show that Wheatley, by whose tainted testimony he died, was identical with a subsequently well-known military officer. Hugh Wheatley, the informer and common soldier (Dr. Madden holds), is the same man who afterwards figured as Captain Wheatley in the West Middlesex Regiment, who served in Egypt, 'wore the Sphinx on his cap,' and in 1827 resided at Uxbridge.797 In 1844 Dr. Madden addressed to a brother officer of this man – a Captain Hester – various queries, all of which drew forth answers disparaging to Captain Wheatley, including the fact that he was remarkable for his love of money and his profligacy. 'How did he get his commission?' asked Dr. Madden: 'I cannot say,' replied Hester, 'nor could any of the officers. The commanding officers appeared always in fear of him. It was not because he had good pistols, for he never used them himself, but he would lend them – as he would his cash – on interest.'

It seems almost a pity to spoil the piquancy of an attractive page, but 'truth is stranger than fiction,' and as Dr. Madden declares more than once that justice to the dead and historic accuracy are his objects, it is right to show that in this case he has confounded two utterly different men. Even a son of the wronged officer is brought on the tapis as a person Dr. Madden had known in another land. The following letter confirming my doubts will help to distinguish between the two Wheatleys: —

'War Office: September 6, 1866.

'Sir, – I am directed by the Secretary of State for War to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 21st ultimo, asking for particulars of the service &c. of a Mr. Hugh Wheatly in the West Middlesex Militia, between the years 1799 and 1810, and to acquaint you that he regrets that he is unable to give you the information you wish for.

'I may add that a Mr. W. Wheatley was appointed to the Regiment as Lieutenant on the 21st February, 1804, and was promoted to a Company, 17th December, 1811.798

'A Mr. Hugh Wheatly was serving in the Tenth (Edinburghshire) Militia in 1800 as Lieutenant. His commission was dated 26th March, 1798.

'I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,'L. Shadwell, Col.

'W. J. Fitzpatrick, Esq., J.P.'

The Hugh Wheatley who – as we are informed by the War Office – received a commission in the Edinburghshire Militia on March 26, 1798, is certainly Orr's Wheatley. One of the depositions of the Rev. George Macartney – a magistrate and D.L. for Antrim – speaks of Hugh Wheatly as a Scotch soldier, who confessed he had been instigated to give false evidence against Orr. Even after he had received his commission we find Wheatley in receipt of Secret Service money; and on February 5, 1800, 115l. 2s. 9d.– or one hundred guineas old currency – appears on record to his credit.

Notes of a conversation with the late Dr. Verdon – a representative of William Orr – discloses some things new to students of the time. Major Orr, son of William Orr, served with distinction in the Peninsular War; he obtained his commission at the age of twenty-three, and on his return to England the Duke of York, then Commander-in-Chief, after complimenting him upon his services, asked if there was any promotion he ambitioned. 'I hate the sword I wear,' was Orr's sullen reply; 'perhaps your Royal Highness will allow me to retire from the service.' 'Pray are you related to Orr who suffered in '98?' inquired the Duke. 'I have the honour to be his son,' the soldier replied. The Duke with reluctance accepted the resignation, and next day wrote a cheque for 1,000l., and sent it to the widow of William Orr 'as some slight compensation for the loss she had sustained' twenty years before. The Duke of York was at this time heir apparent to the throne. Captain Orr retired on full pay with the rank of brevet major. Some years after, finding that his means were inadequate to meet domestic expenses, he asked the Duke for a barrack mastership. Orr filled this office in Longford, and subsequently in Dublin till his death.

'THE WEARING OF THE GREEN'

Mrs. Anastasia O'Byrne, who died in 1875, had been in the habit of sending me rough recollections of such small things as came within the cognisance of a very unobtrusive woman. Some of her letters appeared in a former book. The following is new: —

'In May, 1798,' says Mrs. O'Byrne, 'the narrator, then a comely matron of thirty, possessing a soft innocent expression and a delicate rose-hue complexion, donned her bonnet of the previous season, with intent to make some purchases in the drapery line at a flourishing mart in Thomas Street. The bonnet was of bright green silk, had often been worn without remark, was purchased for its supposed becoming effect, and had lain quietly ensconced in its bandbox throughout the winter. But during that eventful season the political atmosphere had undergone disturbance, and the storm which shattered to pieces many happy homesteads was about to sweep through Ireland. Amid other signs of the times, "the wearing of the green" came to be regarded with suspicion and dislike by the authorities of the day. Of this, however, the wearer of the green bonnet was then quite unconscious. On she went, but was rather concerned, and somewhat puzzled, to find herself attracting an unusual share of the attention of the passers-by, particularly as she was alone. As she passed out of Dame Street into Castle Street and Skinner's Row,799 where the narrowness of the flag-way made collisions of passengers a rule rather than an exception, she was startled to hear, every other moment, a voice whispering, almost under her bonnet: "God bless your colour, ma'am!" She remarked that those who did not use this phrase regarded her with an angry scowl; but still no thought of connecting these incidents with the hue of her bonnet ever crossed her mind. On her return from Thomas Street her attractive power seemed to increase, the cabalistic words: "God bless your colour, ma'am!" were not uttered so frequently, but the streets were greatly crowded by men, some of whom regarded her bonnet with so fierce a glare that she thought they had a notion of plucking it from her head. She then began to perceive, with some alarm, that scarcely any women were abroad, and that military and yeomanry paraded the streets. When she reached Cork Hill she saw masses of people thronging the line of way in Dame Street, whilst the crowd about the Castle gates and the Royal Exchange seemed heaving in agitation like the waves of a troubled sea. Whilst trying to pierce the dense crowd around the Royal Exchange she heard a familiar voice shout her name twice in a loud, excited tone. She glanced in the direction of the sound, and saw the pale, eager face of a young man of her acquaintance, the husband and brother of two intimate female friends, peering at her through one of the windows of the Royal Exchange, then a receptacle for State prisoners. Entering a little by-street she turned with great difficulty from the surge of the crowd which was floating from College Green side, and soon got into more quiet quarters. By the circuitous route she reached home unmolested, but found the household in great alarm about her, for tidings had reached them that several females during the tumult of the day had been rudely insulted, and roughly treated, for wearing ribbons or garments of green hue, one most respectable lady having had a gown of the obnoxious colour sliced from her body by the sabre of a loyal trooper. The excitement of the day was caused by the arrest of the unfortunate brothers Sheares. The young prisoner who called on her from the window had just recently been arrested in the street on suspicion, solely on account of having used indignant words of remark in the hearing of a loyal yeoman. His great anxiety to gain the notice of the wearer of the green bonnet was caused by his desire that his relatives, who were ignorant of his arrest, should learn it, and take measures for his release, before the tidings of it could reach the ears of a very youthful wife in a very delicate condition.

'The poor fellow was speedily released, for higher game had been bagged, and nothing beyond his warm words could be adduced against him. But the young wife, whom he soon after left a widow, always believed that his early death was caused by his arrest. He had caught a severe cold whilst in prison, his lungs became affected, and rapid decline and early death ensued.

'On the day of the arrest of the Sheareses the wearer of the green bonnet beheld the sacking and the attempted burning of the house and stock-in-trade of Patrick Byrne, the bookseller of Grafton Street in whose shop the brothers were first introduced to their betrayer, Captain Armstrong. It was a pitiful sight to behold the amount of property in beautifully bound books ruthlessly torn to pieces and tossed out of windows into the street. Byrne was arrested, but afterwards got safely out of the country, and settled in Philadelphia. His brother, a Roman Catholic priest in Rosemary Lane Chapel, followed him to America.'

The old lady's garrulousness about her green bonnet has been allowed space the more readily because the following contemporary statement comes to illustrate and explain, not only her own reminiscence, but an oft-quoted phrase which has become historic. I have culled it from the London Courier of August 29, 1797. The Dublin Journal to which it refers was the organ of the Irish Government, and the property of Jack Giffard: —

Ireland

Dublin, August 24.– The Dublin Journal, with base malignity, throws out the most indecent insinuations against the virtue of every female who wears green in her apparel. How the citizens of Dublin, and the inhabitants of the country, who are also included in this infamous denunciation, will bear to have their wives and daughters so stigmatised, remains to be seen. A more villainous libel never disgraced the Press. In case of success, it must render useless all the goods in silk, cotton, or woollen which have been dyed green, to the ruin of the manufacturers. Language is not adequate to express the abhorrence that arises at this hellish meditation to rob women of their character and working-people of bread!

A corps, called the 'Antient Britons,' attained by their cruelties notoriety in '98. Pelham, in a secret letter, recognises their activity and loyalty; but casually adds (a trait which, coming from him, will be more regarded than if told by a partisan): 'They were quartered at Newry,' he writes, 'where there was a lady as active as the Miss Greggs at Belfast, and upon her accosting a soldier on guard, she was certainly very roughly treated… They tied her petticoats round her neck, and sent her home showing her garters.'800 Pelham probably learned this fact from one of the letters of Samuel Turner, formerly of Newry.

FATHER O'LEARY

(See chap. xvi. p. 236.)O'Leary in 1782

The following letter – one honourable to O'Leary – has escaped the vigilance of all his biographers. It seems to have been addressed to Mr. Kirwan, a Catholic leader who held some military rank in the Volunteer army, and who at mess had been asked to drink 'The glorious, pious, and immortal memory' of William III.! 'Jungamus dexteras' was the motto of O'Leary and Grattan at this time. The former, in his reply to the Bishop of Cloyne in 1796, states that the policy of Dublin Castle was 'Divide et impera.'

This letter is dated a year previous to Lord Sydney's effort to corrupt O'Leary. From that hour no such courageousness of demand marked his utterances.

'Cork: October 4, 1782.

'Much esteemed and dear Sir, – I am honoured this instant with your kind favour, which makes me doubly happy, in the information that you are well, and the satisfaction of still retaining a share in your remembrance. Your choice of Lord Mornington801 for your Colonel gave me infinite satisfaction, and your design to continue him at your head until he forfeits his claim to that honour by some unbecoming and well-attested steps is equally founded in wisdom and justice. Let it be the province of bigots to censure the toast, after the reasons alleged for having given it. King William was the first who scattered the seeds of liberty in this kingdom. There is nothing in the frame of a Catholic that is averse to its growth. He never violated his engagements with the Catholics of Ireland, though often solicited to a breach of promise. There was not a Stuart, from the first to the last, but betrayed them, either from cowardice or treachery. James II. promised to repeal his Declaration, on condition of being reinstated. What could freedom expect from the resumption of his dignity?

'In the very heat of action, when the alternative was death or victory, he commands to spare his English subjects.802 Poor man! he was tender-hearted and pusillanimous! I care not. Bears are fierce, and deer are timid. It is equal to me whether I suffer by the claws of the one or the horns of the other. In my opinion, though our sufferings have been long and unmerited, it is happy for us that King William came over; for under weak kings of our own religion, controlled by laws, we would be for ever obnoxious to our fellow-subjects. Every gentleman from Dublin whom I meet here talks with admiration of the Irish Brigade.803 Sir Boyle Roche, who wrote me a letter the other day, talks of them in a strain of rapture. I never have seen an address from the Catholics of Ireland but I spurned with indignation at, except your late address to Earl Temple. They were always couched in the cringing language of servility, and even falsehood, boasting of common blessings, when it was in the power of your children to strip you of your kitchen-gardens and the shoeboy of your houses. In your last address you spoke as Gentlemen, thankful for what you got, and decently intimating that you want and deserve more. I make it my humble request that, whilst one Penal Law stands upon record, except those that exclude you from the Senate and high offices under the Crown, in every address you will glance at your restraints. Were it not from an apprehension of incurring the displeasure of the Catholic Gentlemen of Dublin, I would have torn Gormanston's804 address, and Portland's answer, to pieces. The former addressed as a contented slave, and the latter answered with the rudeness of a Batavian burgomaster who would say "Behave always so, or else – !" The liberal-minded Protestants themselves acknowledge that enough has not been done for us. It is what Lord Beauchamp wrote to me when I was in Dublin. I send you Mr. Hamilton's letter on the same subject. I received it here, in a letter from Sir Boyle, who applauds the wisdom of the Irish Brigade in not adopting the violent measures of several armed societies. There is some meaning in these words, which I here would not have communicated but to a few of the discreet of our own. You can keep Mr. Hamilton's letter until I pay you my respects in Dublin. I wish I knew who he is.805 As to the Dungannonists,806 they should be remembered with gratitude by the Catholics of this kingdom. But as the Brigade is composed of all parties without distinction but such as merit confers, whether a letter which would give them the appearance of a Roman Catholic armed society would be expedient, however merited, you are the more competent judge. Whether the sycophants of Government, averse to the Northerns, would not represent Peter leaguing with John against Martin, who once confined them to a boxing-match over a tub, but sees them now shake hands over the table when they can appear with their swords and bucklers in the hall. However, should you deem the measure eligible, considering time, place, circumstances, the sympathies of some, the antipathies of others, the clashing of interests, the factions of parties, the jealousy of Government wishing the metamorphosis of your shining blades into shepherd's crooks, – there is not one living who would sooner comply with my friend's request than I would. But from conviction, free from flattery, I affirm that he is better qualified for a similar letter. I heard of him before I knew him; known, I conversed with him. I guessed what he could do. I read the sentimental and correct Las Casas. I was convinced that I had not guessed in vain. From this motive I cannot be prevailed on, besides the time, which has grown so scanty on my hands since my arrival here that I cannot spare one hour; exhorting every Sunday, and attending to several avocations, which, though of some benefit to others, often make me regret that I ever quitted my solitude and books. I suggested once to Mr. Weldon to propose Dr. Dunn – a Dissenting minister – to the Brigade for a third chaplain. If he be proposed and elected about the beginning of March, or any time after, I shall write him a letter, in which I shall pay those of his profession the compliment they deserve without giving offence to others. Ever &c.

'Arthur O'Leary.

'My best regards to Mrs. Kirwan, Messieurs Braughill, Ryan, Gavan, without forgetting our worthy Brigadier Sutton.'807

The biographer of Grattan cannot be regarded as an authority when speaking of O'Leary. A letter headed 'Dr. O'Leary to Mr. Grattan,' appears in Grattan's 'Life,' vol. v. pp. 263-4. It is dated May 25, 1805; begins, 'My dear Grattan;' speaks of his (O'Leary's) little grandson, and ends, 'Believe me, with truth and affection, your sincere friend and faithful confessor, Father O'Leary.' 'I congratulate you, myself and my country on the honour your speech on the Catholic question has conferred on us,' he writes, and thanks Grattan in extravagant terms for having introduced his name with laudation.

Grattan's speech – delivered on May 13, 1805 – occupies from page 914 to 940 of 'Hansard,' and O'Leary is not once named in it. Grattan's biographer inserts with all the prominence and respect due to a genuine document this transparent hoax. He adds a foot-note to say that Grattan's speech in May, 1805, praised O'Leary. The biographer ought to have known that O'Leary had been three years dead in 1805, and that it is not usual for friars to rejoice in grandsons.

Old St. Pancras

Father Arthur O'Leary died in London on January 8, 1802. The remains lay in state; a grand dirge was sung; an imposing funeral cortège followed them to Old St. Pancras, where a fine monument to his memory, inscribed with words of praise, soon marked the spot. Tradition states that Old St. Pancras was the last church in London where Mass was said after the Reformation: hence the wish felt by Catholics in penal days to sleep within its precincts. A visit to this historic graveyard in its present desecrated state awakens emotion. No ground, however, is sacred to the engineer. Old St. Pancras is now traversed by two lines of railway – more regard being paid to the 'sleepers' above than to the sleepers below. Passing trains ever and anon cause this resting-place of the dead to tremble violently as if by earthquake. Indeed a seismic shock, had it passed through the churchyard, could hardly have produced more wreck. Here many an old tombstone inscribed 'Requiescat in pace' – others displaying grand heraldic sculpture – even a bishop's mitre and a shattered coronet – proclaim the irony of fate. The scorched and begrimed soil, once green and rural, but now split into a hundred fissures – almost tends to remind one of a great Scriptural picture, where shrouded dead are seen rising in protest from the riven earth. Tablets and tombs sufficient to represent the life of a city are rudely removed and ranged far from the graves they ought to mark. 'Old Mortality' will find them piled – close as cards in a pack – beneath a dark archway, over which locomotives rush, their shrill scream suggesting a cruel travesty of the last trumpet. A few massive mausoleums are certainly spared, and amongst them that to the memory of O'Leary. Another part of the disused cemetery creates quite a contrast to the scene of desolation just described. Parterres smiling with flowers may be seen; also winding walks, and an occasional shaded seat, where whispering love repeats a story older even than Old St. Pancras.