II.

1794.

startled at their work by some public proclamation CHAP. which proved that they were betrayed. The informers in such cases were removed from Ireland, and settled with a pension in another country. Sometimes the information came from England. A week after Parliament rose the Viceroy was warned to be on the lookout for a dangerous visitor. The French Directory were anxious to discover the resources of the advocates of liberty in England and Ireland. They had employed a Protestant clergyman named Jackson, a friend of the famous Duchess of Kingston, and an ardent disciple of the new doctrines, to feel the pulse of the two countries and ascertain what kind of reception might be expected by an invading force. Jackson came from Paris to London in February, and there renewed his acquaintance with the Duchess of Kingston's attorney, a man named Cockayne. He was indiscreet enough to reveal the nature of his mission. Cockayne carried the information to Pitt, and at Pitt's suggestion he volunteered to accompany Jackson to Ireland, and communicate his movements to the Castle.

The pair arrived in Dublin on the 1st of April. Jackson called at once on a second old acquaintance, MacNally, a popular barrister. MacNally invited him and Cockayne to dinner, where they met Simon Butler, Ed. Lewines, another United Irishman, and several more. The conversation was free and

1 Mr. Collins, a silk mercer, of Dublin, was one of the first of these useful betrayers of the secrets of the United Irishmen.

He was a

member of the Dublin lodge; and, from the day of his election, was in communication with Lord West

moreland. After Rowan's imprison-
ment, his further residence in Ire-
land was unsafe. 2001. a year was
settled upon him, and he was recom-
mended for a situation in the West
Indies.- Cooke to Nepean. Se-
cret. May 26, 1794

BOOK VIII. 1794.

treasonable. Jackson asked to be introduced to Hamil-
ton Rowan, who was then in Newgate. The prison
rules were construed lightly in favour of gentlemen of
fortune. Rowan was allowed to entertain his friends
in his private room, and having learnt Jackson's object
in coming to Ireland, received him and Cockayne at
breakfast, Wolfe Tone making a fourth, as a fit person
to negotiate with France. Tone had already sketched
a paper to be laid before the Directory, describing the
state of Irish parties, the numerical weakness of the
gentry, the hatred felt for them by Catholics and
Dissenters, and the certainty that if France would
assist, the Government could be easily overthrown.1
It was suggested that Tone himself should go to
France and concert measures with the chiefs of the
Revolution. Tone hesitated, remembered that he
had a wife and children, and for the first time in his
life showed prudence. Rowan copied out the paper,
and
gave the
copy to Jackson, who folded and
sealed it, addressed it to a correspondent at Ham-
burgh, and gave it to Cockayne to put in the post.
Cockayne, who had already set the police on the alert,
allowed himself to be taken with the paper on his
person. Jackson was arrested. A friend warned
Rowan of his danger; and he knowing that if his
handwriting could be proved he would be hanged,
persuaded the gaoler to let him go that night to
his own house to see his wife. The gaoler went
with him, to ensure his safe return to Newgate, but
not to intrude upon his prisoner's privacy, waited
during the interview in the passage. Rowan slipped
through a back window, mounted a horse, and escaped

1 This paper is printed in the Life of Wolfe Tone, vol. i. p. 277.

to a friend's house at Howth, where he lay concealed till a smuggler could be found who would convey a gentleman in difficulties to France. A couple of adventurous men were ready with their services. A day's delay was necessary to prepare their vessel, and meanwhile a proclamation was out with an offer of a reward of 2,000l. for Rowan's apprehension. The smugglers guessed who their charge must be; but in such circumstances a genuine Irishman would rather be torn by horses than betray a life trusted to him. They swore to land Rowan safe, and three days after he was in Brittany.1

The

Rowan was beyond the reach of the Government, but Tone remained; and there was Dr. Drennan, also an energetic incendiary, with whom Jackson had communicated, who had long been an object of anxiety. Dundas, to whom the Viceroy wrote for advice, recommended that Jackson should be admitted as an approver. With Jackson and Cockayne for witnesses, Tone and Drennan could be tried and hanged. Viceroy was obliged to answer that no Irish jury would convict on such evidence. The attempt would end in disgrace.2 Jackson himself could be convicted; but about this, too, there was difficulty, for Cockayne had disappeared. Knowing that his life would not be safe in Dublin for an hour, he had stolen away on the instant that the mine was exploded, and was again in London. He was found

1 Hamilton Rowan here disappears from the story. He went to America, and was condemned in his absence for treason. Fitzgibbon, however, interfered to save his large estates for his family, and in 1799, when the rebellion was over, promised to procure his pardon. Fitz

gibbon died before the promise
could be redeemed, but he left it in
charge to Castlereagh's care. In
1805 the pardon was made out, and
Rowan returned to Ireland, where
he lived quietly the rest of his life.
2 Westmoreland to Dundas,
May 12.'

CHAP.

II.

1794.

BOOK

VIII.

1794.

and carried back to Holyhead, where he fell ill with terror, and could not be moved. At length, but not till after a year's delay, he was carried over and kept under guard, and in April 1795 Jackson was brought to the bar. His trial was the first of the list in which Curran was to earn immortality as the advocate of misguided patriots. Curran, George Ponsonby, MacNally, T. Emmett, Guinness, all the strength which Irish Liberalism could command, was enlisted in the prisoner's service. Curran's skill in torturing informers was as striking as his eloquence. He stretched Cockayne as painfully as ever the rackmaster of the Tower stretched a Jesuit. He made him confess that he had been employed by Pitt. He showed that if Jackson was a traitor to the State, Cockayne was a far blacker traitor to the friend who trusted him. Lord Clonmel, who presided, explained to the jury that if they disbelieved Cockayne the case must fall. But Jackson's guilt was too patent to leave excuse for doubt. The trial lasted till four in the morning, but the jury required but half-an-hour to consider their verdict. A remand was ordered for four days, at the end of which the prisoner was to be brought again to the bar to receive sentence. Irish history is full of melodrama, but never was stranger scene witnessed in a court of justice than when Jackson appeared again. It was April 30, 1795. On his passage through the streets in a carriage he was observed to be deadly pale; once he hung his head out of the window and was sick. The crowd thought he was afraid. At the bar he could scarcely stand; and Lord Clonmel seeing his wretched state, would have hurried through his melancholy office. The prisoner was told to raise his hand. He

II.

1794.

lifted it feebly and let it fall. He was called on to CHAP. say why sentence should not be passed against him. He could not speak. Clonmel was proceeding, when first Curran and then Ponsonby interposed with points of form. As Ponsonby was speaking Jackson fell forward over the bar. The windows were thrown open. It was thought that he had fainted. The attendants caught him, and he sank back into a chair insensible.

'If the prisoner cannot hear me,' Clonmel said, 'I cannot pass judgment. He must be taken away. The Court must adjourn.' 'My Lord,' said the Sheriff, the prisoner is dead.' To escape the disgrace of execution he had taken arsenic in his tea at his breakfast, and chose to leave the world in this theatric fashion.

In a note which he had left in his room he had bequeathed his family to the French Directory, but philosophy had not entirely stifled the sad voice of the creed of his earlier age. In his pocket was found a paper, on which was written in his own hand: Turn thou unto me and have mercy upon me, for I am desolate and in misery. The troubles of my heart are enlarged. Oh bring thou me out of my affliction. Look on my affliction and my pain and forgive me all my sins.'