BOOKS.
WE cannot pay Miss Ida Taylor the compliment of saying that in writing this Life of Lord Edward Fitzgerald she has pre- served with absolute consistency the judicial temper which befits the author of such a book. To do so would have been indeed a great achievement. It seems impossible to bring the dry light of an unprejudiced intelligence on any Irish question. Even when it is reduced to a matter of arithmetic, rhetoric and sentiment still contrive to intrude themselves. But we readily allow that Miss Taylor at least makes an effort to be fair. She is ready to make allowances, and attempts to see both sides of a question. One point of considerable im- portance she insists upon at the outset of her task. She makes us see what sort of person Lord Edward really was. His character has been curiously misconceived. Friendly writers have spoken of his " solemn religious enthusiasm," or of the semblance of gaiety under which he concealed great purposes. Unfriendly judges have declared that he was a malig- nant traitor who assumed a mask of bonhomie. In reality he was, as Miss Taylor points out, and proves by abundant evidence, a very light-hearted, impressionable, and impulsive young man, who was forced by a strange combination of circumstances into a position which at one time be would have thought absolutely impossible, and to which he was, it is certain, singularly unfitted.
The pedigree of Lord Edward Fitzgerald illustrates in a remarkable way one of the characteristics of Irish history. He was the descendant of an adventurer, probably of Norman origin, who was invited over to Ireland by a native King in need of help against domestic foes. This was a repetition of a continuous tradition of Irish politics, recorded for the first time in authentic history when Tacitus speaks of the regulus domestica seditione pulsus who offered to hand over his country to the Roman Agricola as the price of help. The Geraldines, whose interests might have seemed wholly foreign, were commonly found on the side of the native Irish ; this un- lucky scion of his race differed from his ancestors in being singularly free from self-seeking ; but he had their incon- stancy in a large measure.
Edward Fitzgerald was educated at home under the care of the stepfather whom his mother, the widowed Duchess of Leinster, had asked to help her in her management of a family of nineteen children. At sixteen he was appointed to a commission in the Army. His first active service was in the American War of Independence, a curious contrast to the experiences of his later life. From America, he went to St. Lucia. It is amusing to find that, though he was then not twenty, be was much annoyed at not receiving his company, and thought that his noble relatives must have been remiss in not pushing his claim. It is clear that be was still at heart a thorough aristocrat; probably, though he afterwards found it politic to invoke the help of French chain pions of equality, he never ceased to be so. Though he could not call himself Captain, he had the honour, when still considerably under age, of being returned to the Irish House of Commons. In 1784 he busied himself with canvassing for Charles James Fox, then contesting Westminster ; and be fell in love for the first time, as far as we know, but certainly not for the last. His earliest " flame " was Lady Catherine Meade, a daughter of Lord Clanwilliam. The affection, due, it is probable, to proximity, gave way to absence. Catherine was displaced for Georgina, a niece of the Duke of Richmond. The young man characteristically denies that he is off with the old love till he announces that he is on with the new. " I love her [Catherine] more than anything yet, though I have seen a great deal of Georgina whom I certainly love
e The Life of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 1763-1798. By Ida A. Taylor. London: Hutchinson and Co. [16s. net.1
better than any of her sisters." So he writes to his mother, his constant confidante. In 1778 he paid another visit to America, and had some experience of life in the backwoods. He made at this time the acquaintance of William Cobbett, then sergeant-major of the regiment which he was serving. Cobbett afterwards said that he was " the only honest officer he had ever known." We may accept the testimony, at least on its positive side. It was as a soldier that he was most likely to succeed, and, indeed, he narrowly missed the career. A. most eligible command was offered to him in 1790. He had accepted it, when, unluckily, his brother the Duke nominated him to represent one of his pocket boroughs. He could not refuse it; family affections were always a dominating power with him ; and his doom began to close in upon him.
It is needless to tell again in this place the story of " the '98." The inherent weakness of the movement was that it invoked the aid of a force to which the real tradition of Irish Nationalism was inherently opposed,—the Republicanism of France. The priesthood could not acquiesce in such an alliance. Hence came the prominence, so disproportionate to the numerical force of their followers, of Protestant leaders. Then there was the personal unfitness of Lord Edward for the task he undertook. He had splendid personal qualities ; but not the gifts of a leader, especially of the leader of a move- ment which was bound to be secret till it could declare itself in force. Of all conspirators he was the most incapable. Nor is there any reason for crediting him with the heaven-born genius which could have led the undisciplined host of Irish patriots to victory. And, of course, to hasten the inevitable ruin, there was the invariable accompaniment of all Irish revolts, the informer. The part on this occasion was played by a certain Reynolds. Miss Taylor is at her best as an historian in her estimate of this man. He was certainly not of the lowest type of his class ; he had some motives of action which were not wholly base, and he had, what, indeed, few of those who came in contact with Lord Edward escaped, a fascinated regard for the person of the man whom he denounced.
The narrative of the last weeks of our hero's life is a very strange story. He was in hiding in Dublin ; not because he could not escape—escape would have been easy with so many friends, and the authorities desired to be rid of him rather than get hold of him—but because he would not desert a move- ment in the success of which he still believed, to which, in any case, he was still bound. But he had a very strange idea of hiding. During the day he lay perdu, but at night he could not keep at home :—
" He would issue forth, a child who chanced to be at hand his usual companion. As the two playfellows—the one, it would seem, scarcely less light-hearted than the other—returned along the water's edge, Lord Edward amusing himself with the alarm of his little companion as he sprang into the half-sunk boats that lay in the canal, the sound of their laughter would reach the ears of the anxious woman waiting at home, and she would go out to meet her guest and warn him of the necessity for caution—a warning no doubt accepted with penitence and gratitude, and dismissed without delay from the memory of the delinquent."
Once he was actually arrested in company with a fellow-rebel who had the disadvantage of being enormously tall. The giant feigned drunkenness ; Lord Edward played the part of a doctor, and the constable let them go. At last the end came. Lord Edward was arrested, the proprietor of the Freeman's Journal—it is curious to read—being one of the active agents. A scuffle took place, in which a member of the arresting party received a mortal wound. Lord Edward himself sustained several injuries, which, at first thought little of, proved fatal. He died in the early morning of June 4th.
We may leave it to his biographer to sum up the story of his life:—
"And who shall pronounce him wholly unfortunate ? Ho died, indeed, in the flower of his manhood, a champion of a lost cause, a soldier in the ranks of a beaten army. But his life was given for that which he held to be worthy of the sacrifice. Living, he was surrounded by a band of comrades who, whatever might be their failings, were as free from petty jealousies of class and creed, ignoble personal ambitions, and sordid private grudges, as any that ever gathered under the banners of his ancestors ; and he died—more fortunate than some who have occupied his place in the affections of a generous, warm-hearted, and unstable people—encompassed by the love and the fealty of the nation he served."
We have said nothing of Lord Edward's wife, Pamela, a. perplexing personage, of doubtful parentage and undecipher-
able character. Any one who is curious about her may find all that is, or probably can be, known very fairly stated in this volume. Her last recorded words perhaps tell us as plainly as is needful what sort of person she was. She went to see the friend who, forty years before, had acted as " guardian " at her marriage, and, strangely enough, went disguised. He showed her a portrait of herself. " Ali, mon Dieu," she said, " comme j'etais jolie ! " That was undoubtedly true, and perhaps it is all that need be said.
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