Church Town, Hooh, Sept. 20, 1812.

My Dear L.

Since my last, we have far advanced in our readings ot the Iliad. We recur to that immortal work with renewed pleasure every evenings and hope to finish it before we leave this. Never shall we have a more favorable opportunity for enjoying its surprising excellence. What matchless paintings from nature! What true pathetic in all the domestic scenes! What terrible energy in the violent and sublime ones! All the relations of human life, how sweetly pourtrayed and delineated! Do we not see and hear the angry Achilles weeping on the shore! his affectionate mother arise, console her son, and repair to the celestial regions! What fraternal affection between Agamemnon and Menelaus! What tenderness and fidelity in Hector and Andromache! The Trojan hero is the finest example of the purest patriotism: he defends a beloved and endangered country, though he does not approve or palliate the errors of a faulty brother: when it is thus, endangered, he does not dispute, but act. He continues, throughout the whole work, to repel the foreign invader, even when death impends with too fatal certainty! What a noble speech of Achilles’ is that where he rejects the [177] proffered reconciliation of the King! What vigorous disdain of an injurious tyrant! But, when roused and reconciled, through the means of the death of Patrocles, what a torrent of living indignation and fury does he then become! and how soul-touching is the appearance of the ghost of his friend! his mournful speech, and his flitting away with the morning’s dawn. The celestial machinery — the appearance, conflicts, and movements of the gods,- how beautifully intermingled — how truly sublime — how profoundly contrived to animate and work the poem, and convey great and admirable truths!

How amazingly well does this grekt master paint the manners of the time! The shield of Achilles, how rich! The figures of former days seem re-animated by the magic bard, and move before our eyes! What divinity of characters among the Greeks and Trojans! — The haughty Agememnon sustains, under great difficulties, the dignity of a sovereign and commander-in-chief, and has many fine qualities, though obscured by pride. — His brother shews mildness and quiet valour. — Ulysses, eloquent and artful, deeply skilled in human nature. — Piomede, generous, brave, and impetuous. — Ajax, magnanimous, simple, and of heroic courage, as a soldier — Achilles you know too well for me to add a word — all, how well imagined — Thersites seems to me an inimitable picture of a cowardly mob; [178] malignant, revengeful, and mean, though sanguinary. The prayers and sacrifices mark a just reverence for religion, and are never omitted. — The Grecian soldiers, as well as Trojan, are pious and warlike.

On the other side, in Troy, Priam is a venerable king, affording an affecting picture of royalty in distress, though not through its own misconduct. — Hector I have mentioned.-— Paris displays all the weakness and selfishness of , a vain and voluptuous character. — &Aelig;neas is a brave warrior, full of piety and good sense. — The rest of the Trojan princes and warriors are all respectable. — Helen is made so beautifully interesting by the bard, through her self-reproaches and remorse, and her sincere admiration of Hector’s amiable and great character, that we forget her faults. — Andromache presents the most enchanting traits of conjugal and maternal tenderness. Oh! my dear L., at that passage where Hector says —

“But come it will, the day decreed by fate;”

who can avoid deeply sympathizing, that bears the form of man, and has ever felt any of the foreboding fears the Trojan prince there expresses? The sentiments, too, of Homer are so full of wisdom and justice — they, appeal so unerringly to the heart and understanding, that no one can read or hear his works without instruction [179] and delight. His descriptions are quite beyond my praise, for it is absolutely Nature herself we have presented to us. I was forgetting, in enumerating some characters, the matron queen, and affectionate mother, in Hecuba. Her patriot feelings about Hector give her prodigious dignity and interest.

Thus have I run on, my dear L., though we have not entirely finished the Iliad, our evening undertaking. You will join me in this admiration, for a soul so poetic as your’s [sic] well appreciates Homer: and who is so deserving of praise as this great instructor of mankind; — an epic poet, who has raised a monument to his country’s glory, more imperishable than the proudest works of Egypt, or all the other works of man? I am so presumptuous as to differ from the accomplished Longinus, and to think the Odyssey of the Grecian poet not inferior to the Iliad, or manifesting decline of genius, or old age in the author.

The Odyssey is a poem of a different species of the epic, has a different object, and is full of rural and domestic pictures of life. We have DO longer the sanguinary battles of the Iliad; and many do not lament this loss; but we have a noble lesson on the internal economy of a state; the ruin that follows the absence of one good beings and the want of his councils and energetic arm; the confusion arising from many pretenders to a throne, and the certain invitation [180] such wretchedness affords to every rapacious invader; in a word, such a lesson as Ireland wanted for ages; to whose history I return.

Church Town, Hook

Again the morning favors, and again I behold the opposite shores of Waterford and the sea, now somewhat curled and agitated by the cool autumnal blast: the dawn is becoming less splendid every morning; a pale yellow spreads over scenes so lately glowing with the red blush of summer. Yet still are these scenes — solitary and silent as they are — often beautiful, and often sublime. The benevolent Creator is but changing the picture of nature, for wise purposes, leading us to contemplation, find to a melancholy, not unuseful; instead of the gayer enjoyments which summer, decked with laughing beauties, lately gave. Still do they recall the memory of Henry the Second, as he sailed so long. It was at this very period of the year he arrived.

Henry did not remain long at Waterford. He received there the submission of the King of Dlesmond and Cork, and then visited Lismore, where he ordered a fort to be built, and held a conference with the Archbishop of Cashel of a friendly and conciliating nature. The King of Limerick, soon after submitted; and, in a short time, all the petty kings and chiefs of Munster acknowledged Henry.

[181]The monarch having thus seen the south of Ireland yield to him without a struggle, took some steps to secure the cities of Waterford, Cork, Limerick, and other places, and resolved to march to Dublin. He previously liberated the noble Fitzstephens from unmerited imprisonment, and dismissed the complaints of his perfidious and base enemies. He could not be insensible to suck heroic worth; and it had ill become the King of England to let the hero, who may be said to have acquired this island for him, languish in chains. But I fear he did not afterwards protect Fitzstephens as he ought to have done. The memory of benefits is odious to princes, and they too often contumaciously abandon to danger those who, for their advantage, draw down lasting enmity on themselves!

Henry proceeded through Leinster, and, as Strongbow, by many cruelties, had made himself odious, was there received with universal joy, every one preferring obedience to the monarch himself. A pregnant lesson this for his future course! He held a stately and easy progress through this province. Whether he sojourned in the fine countries of Kilkenny and Wexford, which we have just seen, or parsed through the romantic and beautiful Wicklow, not a peasant molested his army, or its stragglers. Wearied with ages of endless oppression under the fero, clous tyranny of kinglings, which permitted no [182] security of property, life, or liberty, the British monarch and his warriors seemed to give them a prospect of a favorable change. The arm of petty despotism, the worst grievance that degrades and afflicts human nature, as about to be arrested; and the hideous monster, with its many mouths, devouring the life-blood of the people, was about to be laid prostrate!

Henry’s march was, as it ought to have been, a friendly progress through a country the natural ally of England. No cruelty stained it — no violations of female honor — no disgraceful thirst of plunder — nothing of those practices which have dishonored the armies of a modern usurper emdash;occurred. Henry was one of those benefactors of mankind who disdain the coarse resources of the mob, or a successful leader of it. He accordingly arrived in Dublin undisturbed, and in safety, and there prepared to keep his Christmas. He reposed with cheerfulness, and as a father in the bosom of his new people.

Roderick O’Connor in the mean time, the feeble and despotic head of the Pontarchal [sic for Pentarchal] hydra, pusillanimously encamped within the Shannon, making that noble river his safeguard, and the witness of his disgrace. Ulster remained perfectly tranquil, and neither aided the nominal monarch of Ireland, nor in any manner disturbed Henry. What Fitzstephens and Strongbow had begun, it was for that, great king now to complete. [183] The pacification and civilization of the inland were in his hands. Already in a southern part of this county, the pleasing work was begun by his gallant captains; he had but to continue it on a larger scale. The people hailed him as a deliverer from their despots — from the Danes. They supported neither, as is ever the case in an oppressed country, and they were right; the people at large had no interest in common with them: a good government was their want, and they valued not the last agonies of kingly pride in every province. They desired the reality of prosperity, not the illusive name, sounded forth by vanity, though condemned by reason.

Henry, with equal policy and generosity, entertained all the Irish kings and lords who attended his court at Dublin, in a sumptuous, manner; and thus, by proper attention and kindness, conciliated the minds of men. A synod of the clergy was held, in his name, at Cashel. He was acknowledged there with gratitude; for, as the prelates justly expressed themselves, “To him were the church and realm of Ireland indebted for whatever they have hitherto obtained, either of the benefits of peace, or the increase of religion.”

It is to be regretted, that Henry did not early in the spring make a progress to Ulster, and thence descend to the western side of the island. [184] The submission of the northern chiefs would have caused Roderick to lay down his nominal sceptre, and the brave and ingenuous people of Connaught would have been released from their painful yoke for ever. It is said a council was held at Lismore, by Henry’s commands, and the laws of England accepted and sworn to; but the testimony seems vague and weak. How, in fact, could these laws be tendered to, or be said to have been accepted with any degree of common sense, by a country not half investigated or brought to allegiance, under the British government? The soil must be prepared before the seed be sown, and inuch of Henry’s cares were necessary to make it ready. He is said to have divided the districts that submitted to him into shires, and to have appointed sheriffs, and itinerant judges. This I scarcely credit, and it was at best but a nugatory step. New institutions must be imparted gradually to a people, and their minds prepared, before the law-giver introduce them. Besides, it is a contradiction to this, that Henry gave up the whole dominion of Ulster to John de Courcy, previous to his departure, and adopted the crude idea of conquest.

He granted charters to Waterford and Dublin, affording the benefit of English laws, but this favor to two cities proved a narrow view of things. In Dublin he established aTegular form [185] of government, by a deputy, and other great officers of state; courts of law, and all appendages of English government, and English laws. But Henry was devoured by many other cares, and had passed an anxious winter in Ireland. He had allowed his temper to master him in the affair of Becket, whom he had oppressed, and whom some violent adherents had assassinated. This quarrel with the Church proved now most detrimental to the real interests of England, and to the empire; and most fatal to that happiness and just independence this monarch came to bestow on Ireland, Domestic uneasiness added much to his painful situation. He was threatened, on one side, by the sentence of excommunication against his dominions, (an awful weapon in those days!) and by the treasonable practices of his queen and sons on the other. Couriers announced to him at Wexford the most alarming intelligence; and he prepared speedily to embark for Wales. Thus interrupted, he acted more impoliticly than it is fairly to be presumed he would have done under other circumstances; but, I am concerned to say, with a narrowness of mind — a jealousy of his first captains, and a disregard of the rights of the Irish, unworthy a great man, and legislator.

He endeavoured to detach the English adventurers, by large grants of land, from the Eari of Chepstow. To Fitzstephens, in lieu of the hard- [186]earned possessions in Wexford the ungrateful king had taken from him, he granted a district near Dublin. To other great men, amongst the English, he made vast gifts of territory. To De Lacy, Meath, and to John de Courcy, the entire province of Ulster, to be won by force of arms. He imitated William the Conqueror — not Rollo, Duke of Normandy. He renewed, under another form, the many-headed despotism of great leaders, not quite unqualified or unrestrained, but endowed with power and territory totally inimical to good government, and to the improvement of Ireland. He acted for the day, when his mind should have embraced centuries; and he followed the suggestions of mercenary courtiers, when he should have consulted parliaments in England and Ireland.

Henry embarked at Wexford on the feast of Easter, 1173, and landing in Pembrokeshire, hastened to his dominions in France, for the preservation of which he unwisely disregarded Ireland, and became subservient to haughty cardinals, whom he should have had boldness enough to despise! From that unfortunate hour to this, a defective system has continued to blight all the fair hopes of making the empire strong through Ireland’s strength, and this unhappy island prosperous and happy through its junction with England. Henry left her the worst of feudal systems — great chieftains, distant from the lord-paramount [187] — and vassals, whose complaints were never heard, or whose representations were transmitted back to their oppressors to decide on. He neither fully conciliated nor conquered the country. He did not dare to be just to the people, lest he might offend great men; and, not imitating the conduct of Solon, by giving them the best laws they were capable of, he left them without any; and, for a petty squabble with churchmen, he for ever abandoned and neglected the finest opportunity any English monarch could have had of consolidating his great empire, and of being, what every English sovereign ought to be — the impartial protector and tender parent of the Irish nation. How my hand trembles! How my heart bleeds! at the long train of miseries which succeeded.

Here I conclude my historical sketch on Henry’s coming to Ireland. Pardon its imperfections, and believe me always,

Yours, &c.

My Dear L.

How pleasant are these autumnal mornings stil! But September has expired, and the days grow so cold and severe on the peninsula, which is penetrated thoroughly by the sea-breeze, that we have removed for a short time to another and more commodious and comfortable abode; the tent has disappeared; the historical studies are closed; and the divine Iliad is nearly terminated. In another week we shall leave Wexford. We parted from our venerable hostess, Mrs. King, and her amiable and peaceful family, with sincere regret. The old woman would have wept, but many sorrows had dried up the source of her tears! Nor is she k character likely to give way to effeminate softness. She has warmly urged us to return again another summer; but the grave — the common destiny of all — will soon receive her emaciated form. The last half of her life has been a series of sufferings, but her fortitude has never abandoned her. She attends her chapel every Sunday, and has promised to call on us, if we stay another week.

Our walks are now limited to Colonel Butler’s beautiful villa near this, and to LofLus’-Hall. This evening I wandered alone to the shore, near our new abode, and found it, to my glad surprise, [189] perfectly delightful; we have exchanged the sublime for the beautiful! The yet verdant fields, and one or two pretty meadows behind our house, descend in a gradual manner to the sea which is near. No rude rocks shock the eye — grassy banks run to the edge of the small ranges here; various little bays indent the shore, to which belong quantities of shells, and the most beautiful sand.

The sun is fiast declining, and his mild and yellow lustre paints the sea, with a soft and weakened tinge, its little bays, and those sloping meadows, that so happily fall to the water-edgei and are blended with the sand by Autumn’s last mournful smile, are also tinged with its beautiful rays. The scene is exquisitely beautiful, and quite new in every respect, aa these parts being out of the peninsula, have been hitherto unknown to us. We have exchanged the Iliad for the Aneid — or, if it please you better — the Iliad for the Odyssey, in picturesque scenery. I know your partiality to Virgil, and have thus managed to avoid displeasing you. As I sit on a small green promontory, at whose base the waves are murmuring, I am reading this author you so justly admire. Since I found him sanctioned by your taste, and that of a dear friend, now no more, I am more and more pleased with Virgil, but I do not think his object in writing his epic at all comparable, though a grand one. [190] to those Homer had in view in his two great works. The Roman bard lived at that period in the history of Rome, when Augustus began to reign; he, as the historian says, “qui cuncta discordiis civilibus fessa, nomine principis sub imperil accepit" who, in fact, finally changed the republic to a kingdom. It was the object of the poet to reconcile the once free Romans to this new state of things;' and, accordingly, in the person of Aeneas, a Trojan prince, he admirably pourtrays the rise, progress, and establishment of a monarchy in Italy, which was to conquer and govern the world.

Nothing can be finer than the execution of this plan: but to reconcile free men to a great military despotism, seems not to me a legitimate object for so exquisite a genius as Virgil. Epic poetry speaks the language and precepts of the divinity, when applied to correct and improve the state of mankind, but fails in this great and most sublime feature, when it inculcates the degradation of the human species! The Roman state, under her early kings, and the republic, displays great virtues, and the purest patriotism; till turned to conquest, it became full of vanity and avarice, and by its superior discipline and skill in arms, overrun and subjugated all the civilized world. The armies, and their generals, became ambitious and corrupt; — patriotism was lost in self;— and, after bloody contests for supremacy [191] in power amongst them, Augustus, an artful relative of one of Rome’s greatest military characters, prompted by wily persons, took advantage of the confusion of Italy, and the extinction of almost all the great or good characters in the state by civil war, and declared himself emperor. His empire grew on the wretchedness of the times, and of his country. To vindicate and confirm this usurpation Virgil wrote. He was under great obligations to the new emperor, or protected and placed in easy independence by him, and acted from gratitude as well as from the best view of things he could take.

But I cannot deem that great genius excusable. His work, no doubt, contributed to maintain the Roman empire, in no small degree. The noble pride, and fine ideas of military glory which it inspired in every Roman breast, in room of the patriot feeling which guards home, but invades not the repose of others, must have powerfully animated and formed the Roman mind.

A Roman, in these times, reading, or hearing recited, the epic strains of this great bard, could not fail to experience all the gratifying sensations of self-love and national glory. H, deduces his origin from Troy — he is familiarized with all the Grecian heroes of Homer — he Accompanies the princely founder of future Rome to Carthage — he shares his toils and dangers, and rejoices at his success in Italy. The matchless i irt and great [192] beauties the poet shews in his admirable allusions to the more modem times of Rome, from Romulus down to Augustus, must have had their full effect. Perhaps Virgil, as a Roman of the days of Augustus, felt all this himself, and wrote accordingly; but, in my mind, it derogates from genius and the epic muse, to flatter bad passions; and, under however splendid a garb, inculcate despotism. Homer was more simple — more virtuous — more grand in his objects. In the Iliad, and in the persons, both of Agamemnon and Achilles, he shews the danger of indulging the selfish passions of pride and anger, and proceeds through his immortal poem to paint all the dangers arising from want of concord, engendered by them. In the Odyssey, he teaches the misery of a state without a good presiding government.

Virgil’s object was temporary, and narrowed to Italy, and as I have said, an exceptionable one. Homer’s ends were immortal as this globe, comprehending all mankind, and conducive to happiness and just liberty. The one inculcates lasting virtues, which are essential to man’s prosperity and peace, and apply to every family as well as every nation. The other aims at eternalizing one military state under a bad government; and, by means of sentiments and passions, injurious to the repose and happiness of others. The epic poet should soar above the views of any specious and voluptuous prince, anxious to [193] secure his own quiet and selfish enjoyment, as Augustus was and should write for the whole of his species, not for one selfish, timid, and vain being.

On my return to the house, I found bur preparations for departure going on. The weather every day admonishes us to conclude our excursion before the driving sleet and storm “deform the day delightless”. Mr. Tottenham called Co-day, and strongly advises our going by Duncannon Port to Wexford. Prom thence we shall proceed to Dublin.

Duncannon Port, we are informed, is highly deserving of attention, and we have decided on this route. We shall leave these peaceful and solitary parts of Wexford with great regret. In the sum of human life, few have enjoyed a happier moment. We have completed the objects of our tour; and not only viewed, by the true mode of inspecting a people, the district where the English first landed and made some settlement, but we have resided among them, and lived nearly as themselves.

Throwing away the appendages and circumstances of any superior rank, and treating the Irish with a frankness and plainness that won their esteem, and shewed they were considered as rational beings and fellow-citizens of one great empire — not despised vassals — we found an ample and rich return. When they are not vitiated [194] by cities, or degraded by petty despotism or poverty, the hearts of these people are rich depositories of the warmest feelings of humanity. They are generous and hospitable in their way; religious without bigotry; and possessed of extraordinary intellectual powers. The high rents, however, now indiscriminately press all the people of Ireland, and Wexford does not escape! The great quantities of sea-wrach [sic], or woar, as they call it, thrown up on these coasts, make them better able than elsewhere to bear them; and the produce of the land brings high prices. The system cannot last much longer, or, indeed, be raised much higher. It is grievous to behold it pressing down these good people, and so many landlords insensible to the great truth, that moderate rents constitute the true wealth and prosperity of the landed interest. The practice of taking large fines, or granting leases, has grown with the war, and become a dreadful evil. It tends to throw all old resident families out of their paternal lands. They cannot afford this bribe to an agent, or greedy landlord; and the great destroyer of the farmer, the middle.man, steps in with his ready-purse, and obtains the land. I do not allude to this spot peculiarly. The tenantry are tolerably easy, and the noble family over them seem to me to have proved humane and good landlords; but I advert to the whole island. I persuade myself, that, [195] throughout this country we have witnessed beneficial marks of the English intermixture. I do not recur to Forth — that is, a not-to-be mistaken evidence of the unspeakable advantage of their amicable union with the Irish — but to the general face of Wexford, wherever we have been.

The farm-houses are something in the English style, roomy and commodious. The farming is respectable, and you do not see so many wretched sub-divisions of land as elsewhere in Ireland. The leases given are of reasonable tenure on the whole, and one sees a somewhat of an independent yeomanry, reminding one a little of England. They are, however, depressed by party prejudice; and, till its baneful operations be destroyed, agriculture can never thoroughly flourish. There, alas! is no resemblance to England!

Your country, my dear L., knows not the misery of power delegated to a dominant party, - braving, if not superior to that of government — and blighting the freedom of man, and all his struggles for honest independence!

The people of Wexford live more comfortably, however, than in most parts of Ireland. Their habits are better; they are honest, frugal, and industrious. They have abundance of butter, milk, pork and a good deal of poultry. Their [196] maritime situation affords them the facilities of procuring a plentiful and various supply of fish. Their potatoes are good, and their orchards supply them with fruit. Gardens of vegetables, too much neglected in Ireland, are here pretty common, and in Forth universal. They want much of English comfort, however. They have neither home-made cheese, nor home-made ale. They seldom see wheaten bread, and never bake it at home. They want better cattle, tackling, and carts. The Wexford car is a small and wretched machine. There is, above all, a want of home manufacture, which makes other countries happy and independent. Not like the Tyrolese, or Swiss, able to mix it with agriculture, and employ the long winter night usefully, the Irish spend it in weariness; in the idle practice of story-telling, or the blameable dissipation of the wake.

They are fond of field-sports, of an active nature — of hurling, leaping, and wrestling— excel in them all, and are not cruel in their rural sports in general.

At some future time, we meditate seeing Connaught in the same manner. From thence I may present you with new and different pictures. Never, however, shall we forget the kindness and hospitality we have experienced in Wexford. Will you not be pleased, my dear L., when I [197] tell you, that Mr. O’Flaherty, on hearing of our intended departure, offered his purse, and all that genuine friendship could dictate, to accommodate us on our way?

Porter’s Gate, Oct. 6, 1812

At what an awful moment do we live, my dear L.! This cold October morning fixes our attention on the operations in Russia.

The state of parties in England and in Ireland afflicts me! I grieve that the whole energies of the empire are not directed to the one grand point of danger from abroad, if the French succeed!

Under this impression, a few days ago, I commenced my letters to Sir William Smith, on the state of Ireland, and on foreign affairs: — they may displease some parties in these countries, though without any wish of mine to do so. I shall finish them before we leave this. It will be no displeasing rejection hereafter let what will happen, to have advocated the cause of the son of our revered monarch in a trying hour, and warned his island against foreign arms or arts, in the close of this year. [198]

The frost has been felt here, near the sea, already. What will it not soon be in the great empire, now invaded by an infatuated adventurer, dragging with him half-subjugated Europe? Baffled by the cabinet of St. Petersburg, he has lost the precious time, that was in his power — his eyes open, he has set out too late for the season, and risks an immense and tremendous army, by the blind obstinacy of his proceeding. To satisfy the cravings of an inordinate appetite for blood, plunder, and vain-glory, which, in the true spirit of democracy, has grown a feverish disease in himself and the French, under successive misgovernment, he is plunging into Russian snows, on whose awful mounds stand invincible and patriotic hosts of warriors. Ignorant, or presuming that he is, he is now to be impressively taught —

“Without the gods, bow short a period stands
 The proudest monument of mortal hands.”

I have ventured to predict to our little party his certain overthrow, and the escape of Europe — perhaps of our beloved British isles — from his sanguinary and sordid hands! I have seen this man you know, my dear L.; and presented at his brilliant and imposing court, have spoken to him. He did not at all strike me as a great man. His physiognomy is not that of one. The eye is a common grey, denoting, as I have often observed, [199] more of malignity than grandeur of mind. There is nothing of eye-brow to command or impress. The lower part of his jaw remarkably projects, which seldom belongs to a good temper or feeling mind. His person is small, not well composed, and has nothing majestic or pleasing. The natural antipathy I have to despots, military or civil, did not increase my respect for one then exercising a base system of oppression and imprisonment over France, in time of peace. I neither forgot Venice, nor devastated Italy, St. Domingo, or Egypt! He seemed to understand nothing of this noble island of Ireland, more than to have a general idea of its religious differences with England. He erroneously thought the entire country Catholic. I afterwards knew that he entertained a very poor idea of the Irish nation. The mere acquisition of power cannot, I always thought, be said to make a great man. Many fortuitous circumstances, and the talents of others cunningly made use of — unblushing audacity, calling itself genius — and the most daring and artful use of falsehoods, may place a man in possession of it. How easily is an ignorant and vain population deluded into the idea, that he is great! How willingly does this great Leviathan swallow the coarsest and most vulgar baits! — Greatness consists in the qualities of the human mind, improved by education and observation, and producing lasting and mighty fruits of [200] genius for the benefit of mankind. It is original, and depends not on the mere suggestions, or aid of others. Power does not confer it; but merely affords a theatre for its operations. In this, aa well as other parts of the human character, a false as well as the true species may be distinguished. Mankind are frequently deceived by the latter. It might, perhaps, have been as well for the ultimate fame of the usurper of France, if the good priest of Ferns had never extricated him from the water. His fall and retrogression will be most painful to himself; and his character, for original and fertile genius, for ever utterly destroyed!

Porter’s Gate.

Mrs. King has paid us a visit, as she promised, but I am sorry to say in much grief. If I may borrow an expression from the Odyssey, The “dark brow of silent sorrow" is her’s. She had, a year or two ago, learnt some particulars of the death of a favorite younger son in the West Indies, and had preferred some claim for prize-money and effects to the navy-office, but it had been done imperfectly. She is now renewing the application, as the times bear hard, and our poor old friend I fear, may say —

“What cannot want? — the best she will expose
And I am learn’d in all her train of woes.”

The revival of this affair, and her being obliged [201] to administer to her son’s effects, have revived all her sorrow for him, and the sad appearance of the. venerable matron, bending under so much melancholy, and a long course of troubled years, filled us all with compassion. The Admiralty has, however, behaved with great humanity to her, and she will soon receive a sum of money. There are many difficulties, however, in the way of the poor Irish in making their claims. They often fill up the printed paper, sent from Somerset House, improperly, and then receive nothing. — Taking out administration is expensive. The proof of the death of the sailor, whose prize-money and effects are claimed by relatives, is often difficult, sometimes impossible to be attained by them, when he dies in foreign parts. In such cases they have not the same advantages and information as the English; and the money is frequently lost to them for ever. If every captain in the navy were to keep an exact, register of the parentage, parish, and county in Ireland of every Irishman on board, and wrote, on. a death happening, to the clergyman or priest, on the spot, perhaps, on receiving a certificate, vouched on oath, through the same hands, he might be enabled to transmit an order for the. money claimed. This is a mere suggestion; but some better regulation were desirable than now exists. In maritime affairs, there is smother subject of great importance, which certainly claims [202] the attention of government — the case of ship-wreck on the coasts of Ireland. There are about sixteen maritime counties. The great points are, to save the lives of the ship-wrecked; to restrain the people from plunder or violence; to punish them when guilty; and reward them well for good behaviour and meritorious exertions; and to procure for the owners as much property as possible, and fully and honestly to account for it. The salvage laws are but crude, and made for former times. They put too much power into the hands of any neighbouring magistrate, and the residing revenue-officers. Power is too frequently abused in Ireland; and if great temptation sometimes occur, it were desirable to have it wholesomely restrained. If each maritime county were divided into districts, near the shore, and associations of gentry, clergy, and farmers, with a number of stout peasantry attached to them as police, and paid by the county, they would effect great good. Each association should have its depot for goods, &c. &c.; and a gentleman, with a salary, as a maritime commissioner, should reside contiguous to some part of the sea, preside as chairman of the association, report cases to government or commissioners of revenue, and correspond with proprietors, relatives of the distressed, or drowned, &c. &c.

Something like this might do good. Some regulation is greatly wanted, to prevent plundering [203] of all sorts; to stop perjury, and to guard from injury the most unfortunate of beings — the shipwrecked and afflicted children of sorrow, thrown on a coast, too often merciless; and amongst those who too often add to their misery, and injure those they ought to guard!

Believe me, &c. truly your’s.

Porter’s Gate, October 24, I8l2.

My Dear L.

This day we proceeded, by a most lovely walk, near to Bag and Bun. We followed the shore from this for a little, and then found, by a gradual ascent, a level green kind of terrace-walk, running for two or three miles along a magnificent rocky shore. It was our last walk, as we leave this the 30th, and shall reach Dublin shortly. We naturally enough end by visiting a quarter that had been the primary object of a tour which has since become so much amplified, that I fear I have long ago fatigued you with' my letters describing it.

The day was exceedingly fine, and the blue expanse of an unruffled ocean was soothing and cheerful to behold.

[204] Great numbers of sea-fowl, gulls and others, sat tranquilly on the rocks far below us, or flew circling and hovering over the sea. Deep gulphs, and romantic towering rocks, added to the sublime beauty of the marine scenery. We are all so fond of these scenes, that we prolonged our walk insensibly till we were near Bag and Bun; but it had got late, and we contented ourselves with a distant view of the interesting spot for the last time. We had lost nothing of the impression it had first made, and again beheld it with awe-inspired feelings! But we seemed to have attained another period in history, and the departure of Henry, from Wexford, was recent in our minds. It was now painful to reflect, how ill-appreciated and ill-rewarded these first warriors, who landed here, had been by a monarch who put into the hands of others all the fruits of their enterprizing deeds.

Methought we saw Fitzstephens wandering dejectedly on the shore, musing on royal ingratitude. Deprived of possessions that were dear to him, and placed wherever new dangers sprung up, by malicious and timid deputies, he had been made to drink a bitter cup I

He learnt to tknow princes too late. At first they are generous in rewarding a noble mind, which has achieved much for them; but soon the object becomes disagreeable. They enjoy and benefit by the acquisition, and additional [204] safety procured them; but grow jealous, or weary of the champion who has served them! Pride prevents just acknowledgment, and ingratitude springs from the greatness of the good conferred.

Fitzstephens calculated not on a great monarch listening to mean whisperers, or giving to useless, or pernicious courtiers, what had been his just reward!

Ah! my dear L., how deeply melancholy was this great man’s last hour, in the south of Ireland — where he last reposed!

Our return was late in the evening; but the rising moon soon succeeding the mild gleam of an autumnal or almost wintry sun-setting, dispelled every thought, but that of admiring the enchanting scenery gradually displaying itself before and around us! Successively the cliffs, the sea, the verdant bank, were illumined by that silvery and softened light, which, near the sea, has redoubled lustre. There was perfect silence; the tranquillity of the mind too was no way disturbed; for though distant from home, and on the wildest. path imaginable, so entirely and jusUy are we convinced of the goodness of the people around, that we never entertain any apprehension, however late the hour of the evening. The picturesque of night-scenes is more strongly allied to poetry than any other. The imagination reigns supreme! The silence and rest of [206] the world favors composition; and sublime conceptions are formed in forgetting, its little interests and pursuits. The wonderful works, and unfathomable designs, of the Creator absorb our attention, and the bright ornaments of a mighty sky charm us, while the soul is filled with reverence. I have no need to. remind you of the excellent description of such a moonlight-scene, in the pages of Homer,

“As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night;”

it is well known to you, and is a most faithful delineation of nature. Is it not also, my dear L., an awful proof of all this frame of things existing thousands of years ago in exactly the same manner as now, with a durability and order that almost oppress us in the contemplating?

We arrived safely at home, and are finishing the Iliad, in the few remaining evenings we have dedicated to it, as our mornings are given to packing up books, and regulating papers. The last scenes of this sublime work are truly affecting; — the death of Hector particularly so; — where Achilles says to the fainting warrior — “Come, and receive thy fate;” — Who does not feel? The sufferings of Priam and Hecuba are pourtrayed in a masterly manner; and the interview between the former and Achilles inimitably fine! The one is not yet satisfied with revenge for the loss of Patrocles, and is wrapt in gloomy [207] thoughts; the other, weak with the imbecility of age, and the sorrow occasioned by the loss of such a son, implores his destroyer to grant his body! the scene between them is beyond all compare. When Achilles relents — when their tears begin to flow — What a faithful and mournful picture from nature, of the griefs of man! How strongly exemplifying the lines in the tenth book —

“To labour is the lot of man below;
And when Jove gave us life, he gave us woe”

I formerly quoted some passages of lamentation by the parents over the corse of Hector. — What can surpass the pathetic and patriotic speeches of the queen? What more noble than her glorying in her dead son, and her disdain of Achilles’ savage insults to the body? But these vivid exhibitions of nature are closed. We leave all these kings and warriors. Troy totters, and soon must fall! We have now made all our small arrangements, and shall depart in two days.

Porter’s Gate, Oct. 20thh

The sun has arisen with paly [sic for pale?] lustre, to light up for us, for the last time, these peaceful scenes! His orb just appears, and Nature yet sleeps. Soon will the cares of man be renewed; — soon will cruelty and treachery rush on their prey; — soon will avarice renew its toils, and vanity again [208] flit its empty hour;— soon will the catastrophe in Russia approach, and this unfeeling destroyer of so many lives, and so much happiness, meet a great repulse. Like another Aladin, starting from obscurity and penury, he had possessed himself of a talisman, by which he enthralled genius, and lorded it over nations! He is with his own hands breaking the magic lamp, against the iron walls of Russia! Providence has thus ordered it, and mankind will have the satisfaction of witnessing, ere very long, the fall of this execrable military despot. It is matter of exultation of the most heart-felt kind, that the British Isles have both withstood and assisted powerfully to overthrow his revolutionary government.

We have been reading, with great pleasure, the Emperor of Russia’s proclamation. The best feelings of the Russians, and of the head of their government, are roused. The great mistake of the French usurper has been to undervalue human nature too much — to judge of it, perhaps, from himself. He never seems to have comprehended what real patriotisim was; and it is now about to inflict a heavy punishment on him. I feel exceeding great satisfaction at this approaching consummation of things at the very close of our tour and residence in Wexford. We have, in idea, attended the landing, and followed the pacific march of a great monarch, coming to this [209] island as a benefactor, and the extinguisher of numerous military despotism. We have applauded his bloodless and merited success. We now behold, in modern times, the ruthless, uninvited, and unprincipled invasion of a great country, to enslave it, and build on its ruin the slavery and misery of Europe.

How manifest the difference between a great, hereditary, and well-educated monarch, accustomed to power, and not daring to abuse his sacred trust, and the revolutionary adventurer, trampling on all the principles of legislation, and of the laws of nations, and using power in the most sanguinary manner, to support the false glare and ephemeral purposes of the despot’s hour. We have perceived, in this peaceful country, no blind admiration of this man, similar to what is found in Dublin, or even in London. I beheld, some years ago, this inveterate enemy of liberty and religion, admired in a strange manner by the nobles and commoners of this great empire. Amongst this simple and virtuous people he is judged calmly and impartially, and considered as a sanguinary and mean character. I shall, my dear L., for the sake of this island at large, however, greatly rejoice at the completion of his downfall. A morbid and feverish state of mind has been kept up in many, by his successes, added to his insidious practices, and by a [210] blindly-cherished sentiment of relief from foreign power. I sincerely hope to see the former very soon at an end, and the latter corrected and extinguished by the good sense of this noble and talented, but credulous and too susceptible people. Far, far beyond the effects of my humble and feeble labours, would be their own return, on self-conviction, to a calmer state, and to perfect friendship and confidence with England! This may be hoped on good grounds, when war shall end, and the shining fragments of this European Aladin’s lamp scatter the Continent, and discover his mighty, but illusive imposture.

We shall, therefore, conclude this Tour in Ireland with great cheerfulness, satisfied that better prospects open for this most interesting island, and pleased to repose for the present from our pedestrian toils We set out to-morrow morning for Duncannon Port, on our way, which we desire greatly to see.

Believe me, most truly, &, &c.

MY DE4R L.

Yesterday morning early, we bade adieu to the Hook, and its vicinity. The walk to Duncannon is very pretty; the road good, and the views very pleasing, consisting of various openings of the sea, romantic shores, and a cheerful country. We arrived at twelve o’clock.

The fort here was erected by the English, to command and defend the passage up to Waterford, and is situated on a small, lofty; and projecting rocky promontory, running into the sea on a beautiful and extended sandy shore. The opposite coast is beautiful, and enriched by numerous handsome country-seats. There is a small neat town joins the fort. We were readily admitted, and allowed to see the interior. Captain Hori, the commander, perceiving we were strangera, and a little fatigued, with all the urbanity of a British officer, approached, and invited us to rest, and take some refreshment in his apartments; an invitation we gladly accepted. It is thus the pedestrian’s path is often unexpectedly strewed with flowers. This gallant young officer had served under the lamented Sir John Moore, (whose likeness hung over his chimney-piece), and [212] was, I believe, intimate with him. He mourned his loss sincerely, and spoke in affectionate and high terms of the departed hero.

Captain Hart had lost a leg in Spain; and, though a very young man, was now invalided in consequence. We conversed a long time on Spain, and the war there, a subject I always delight in, as there Britain first began to undermine and cast down the fabric of revolutionary tyranny in France, latterly called Imperial. After spending a most pleasing, and, indeed, instructive hour with this interesting and hospitable officer, we withdrew.

The interior of the fort is not very large, but it affords delightful views of the sea, and seems to have been very strong. After the dreadful massacre at Wexford, Cromwell marched to Ross, which soon surrendered, and sent a detachment under Ireton to besiege Duncannon Fort. It held out very valiantly under Wogan, the commander, assisted by Lord Castlehaven; and, at length, the garrison, making a sally (I believe by descending on the sand when the tide was out), repulsed the enemy, who retired in confusion. Cromwell was here signally checked, when almost every town and city in Ireland yielded, in a very pusillanimous manner, to that sanguinary leader. But the Irish, divided into parties, Protestant and Catholic, had ill-acted together in support of the crown, and the severest vengeance was fully inflicted [213] on them by a fanatic government, which had deceived both.

This romantic fort is well worth every traveller’s inspection, and fully repaid us for taking; rather a circuitous route to Wexford. Our walk to this village was long and tiresome. We arrived late and weary at a small and good inn, situated in this picturesque little spot. As our tour is now concluded, I shall here bid you farewell. We have received from it both entertainment and Instruction; — have seen much picturesque beauty — and have found fresh cause to admire and pity this interesting people.