country at the mercy of its enemies. But Mr. Grattan was inflexible, and he withdrew. When the union went forth, Mr. B. again exerted his influence to withdraw him from a solitude that consumed him. His counsel was not unheeded, and though borne down with physical and mental suffering, when a vacancy occurred in the representation of Wicklow he agreed to be put in nomination. The writ issued on the night Castlereagh's motion took place, and in spite of the malicious cunning of the Castle, which threw every impediment in the way, he was returned in sufficient time to record his last vote. The discussion, which through respect to Mr. Grattan had abated for a while, was renewed with redoubled energy. Mr. G. at length caught the eye of the Speaker. Too enfeebled to rise, he addressed the House from his seat. All expected a poor display, but their disappointment was great he began, as usual, in a cold and faltering tone, uttering half sentences, and ungracefully pausing to complete the remainder. As he proceeded he threw off a few sparks of his old grandeur, and at length was whirled away in one of those electric bursts that so often frenzied the House. Mr. Burroughs vented his ardour in a wild cheer-Barrington caught up the cry, and the liberal benches rang again and again. Even the opposition was slightly infected, after the delivery of one of the noblest pieces of oratory Mr. G. ever uttered.* But his eloquence was insufficient to save Ireland-the curse of Swift was upon her, and her miserable destiny was at length fulfilled. It is, however, something to national consolation to reflect that on one side were arrayed all the genius, honour, and worth of the country-on the other their opposites. Most of the actors are now no more. History will exercise an impartial judgment. We now come to one of the most important efforts of Mr. B., which proved the great confidence reposed in him by the people-we allude to his celebrated and successful defence of the Catholic delegates; and here it may not be unnecessary to say a few words of the state of affairs that led to that proceeding. The severities of the Catholics were slightly relaxed in 1793; but the concession was narrow and cold, given without kindness-received without enthusiasm. The policy of the Irish parliament legislated more for the past than the future; it saw the advancement of popular power, and capitulated less through wisdom than fear. It played the part of the Caudine Forks, freed the Catholics, but disgraced them; the fountain of power was partially unsealed, but that of discontent was not closed. The Catholic body still presented the anomalous compound of slave and citizen. Dissatisfaction soon arose ;-the United Irishmen were in active corre The peroration is very feeling and beautiful-" But if this monster of political innovation is to prove more than the chimera of a mad minister, rioting in political iniquity, away with the Castle at your head to the grave of a Charlemont-the grave of the Irish volunteers-and rioting over that sacred dust, exult in your completed task, and enjoy all its consequent honours. Nor yet will the memory of those who oppose you wholly die away-the gratitude of the future men of Ireland will point to their tombs, and say to their children, "Here lie the bones of those honest men, who, when a venal and corrupt parliament attacked that constitution which they fought for and acquired, exerted every nerve to maintain, to defend, and to secure it. This is an honour which the king cannot confer upon his slaves-it is an honour which the crown never gave the king." spondence with the Directory of France. Government might have prevented, but preferred revolt-it first caused the rebellion, and punished for its own creation. The union followed as immediately as effect follows cause. The Catholics carried it; they were promised in return prompt and unconditional relief; but Pitt deceived them, and they soon saw that their own exertions alone must procure success. In 1805 this spirit manifested itself, but sluggishly, and with unworthy caution. The Whigs came into office, and they left them just as they were. Until 1809 nothing was done; in that year a committee was constituted. At a general meeting held at the Farming Repository, Stephen's Green, in July, 1810, several resolutions were proposed, among which was the following:-" That a committee be formed of the thirty-six members representing Dublin, and ten gentlemen from each county, to address the king, petition parliament, and draw up a remonstrance to the British nation,"-purposes perfectly justifiable; but Mr. Saurin thought otherwise he saw a manifest violation of the Convention Act. This act was devised by the sagacity of Lord Clare in 1793 to disperse the organisation of the United Irishmen, which was composed of representative delegates from every part of the island. Since its enactment it lay dead in the statute-book, like many other sage laws. It never was put in force against the Catholics to prevent the free expression of opinion in their assemblies; but they were now waxing powerful, and every movement was watched with jealous scrutiny. The privy council came to the resolution of striking a decisive blow. Accordingly a circular issued from the Castle, signed "Wellesley Pole," directing all sheriffs, magistrates, &c. &c. to arrest all persons engaged in the election for delegates. Now came the struggle the Catholics directly collided with the government. There was only one mode of bringing the matter to an issue-that was tried. Lord Fingall, and several of the committee, attended a meeting in violation of the proclamation. Chief Justice Downes signed a warrant, under which they were arrested, and gave bail. It will be seen that the question was one of the most profound importance, involving the constitutional rights of the great body of the people. The Castle was plaintiff Ireland the defendant. With the habital solicitude for sure verdicts, an admirable jury was selected by the sheriffs. The committee trusted to the advocacy of Mr. Burrroughs, and their confidence was not misplaced. Doctor Sheridan and Mr. Kirwan were first put on their trial. With all the disadvantages of a hostile court, a well-selected jury, and the opposition of such men as Bushe and Saurin, the power of Mr. B. triumphed. His speech, reported in the State Trials, is probably one of the finest efforts of skill and learning ever delivered at the Irish bar. The victory was a vast one— arbitrary authority was arrested, and the right of delegation for the purposes of petition restored to the people. Had the committee acted with wisdom and firmness, the Duke of Wellington might have been deprived of the glory of the Relief Bill. Mr. B. advised them -he told the fatal consequences-but, flushed with conquest, they knew not where to stop. A counter prosecution was instituted against the chief justice who issued the warrant; in his person the case was tried a second time, and, as Mr. B. anticipated, judgment was had in his favour. Exceptions were taken, but the demurrers were never argued. Thus the first triumph was annulled, the delegates crushed, and the Castle laughed at their defeat. Serjeant Ball was one of the purest-minded men that ever adorned any country. To the steady virtues of the patriot he united extensive erudition, and all the amiable characteristics of a friend. When the bar, with some honourable exceptions, yielded to the fascinations of power, he was inflexible. Nothing could shake his high resolve. His influence was known to be powerful, and the seductions to withdraw him from his party were proportionately forcible. When Mr. Secretary Cooke sent a friend to offer any terms, his answer was—“ All the gold of the treasury-all the influence of the Crown, multiplied an hundredfold, could not make John Ball swerve one moment in his devotion to Ireland." He was then poor, but he preferred to remain the humble Recorder of Drogheda. After his death a numerous meeting of the bar was held to commemorate his virtues. Mr. Burroughs was his intimate friend, and to him was entrusted a resolution to erect a monument to his memory. Like his eulogy of Grattan, his panegyric on that occasion was very beautiful-elegant without ornament, and affecting by its mournful simplicity. "What could I say what could any man say which is not already known to you all, which each of you would not anticipate? There never departed this life a man who stood less in need of posthumous praisethe man who had no enemy living, can have no calumniator when dead. Without vices to attract the sympathies and bribe the suffrages of the vicious, with conduct which never countenanced frailty by example, and with a life which was a rebuke to all who were base, or mean, or frivolous. It is a subject of interesting speculation, by what charm, certainly not of art but of nature, it occurred, that no man ever uttered one syllable in his disparagement; he is the only man I have ever known to whom it could not be fairly imputed as a blemish, that he wanted a negative testimony to his worth which arises from the odium and vilification of the worthless. But it is not so much in consideration of him who is gone, as of those dear relations and affectionate friends who remain behind, that we should offer this tribute. Funeral honours, when wisely and justly bestowed, are benefits to the living; it is fit that the wife who lately adored him, and now barely survives him-it is fit that the children, some of whom are too young to feel their loss, should have recorded evidence of his great eminence-it is fit that we should teach them that whatever may be the accumulation of his talents and industry, whether he has left them in opulence or indigence, they inherit from him what is better than wealth -what vulgar prosperity could not purchase or bestow-the favourable prepossession of the good, the zealous wish of every virtuous man to aid them in their progress through life, the patronage of all that is feeling and virtuous in the land. But we have a nearer concern-a closer, I may say a selfish-interest in paying this tribute. In this temple of justice was his life exhausted in furnishing a model of professional excellence, calculated to improve the bar, to raise its character in public estimation. Deep and perspicuous, simple and interesting, zealous and candid, modest and bold, he gave to every client the ablest exertion that an honest and honourable advocate could bestow on his cause, and he never inflicted on any adversary a pang of which a candid mind could justly complain. Without fortune, without patron, without vulgar intercourse, without the unworthy canvassing of partisans, without self-predication, without servility, without arrogance, he gradually attracted universal attention to his high natural endowments, and the treasures of his extensive legal learning. It was his lot, in a profession prone to emulation and all its evils, to be followed without envy and passed without scorn, and when finally he passed all, he rather wondered at than exulted in his success. His humility grew with the growth of his celebrity, and his unassuming manners interested all men in his well-earned elevation; and surely, gentlemen, it cannot but operate as a useful incentive to those who are now in their way, or may hereafter follow him in an arduous and honourable profession, to learn that such a man, in such a way, attained a station in society to which the favour of a court could never have raised him, and from which the clamours of the populace could never have deposed him." This is a fine encomium, worthy of the speaker and the subject. Some one at no distant day will pronounce a similar one on Mr. Burroughs himself. As he advanced in years his business began to retrograde a host of fresh and vigorous rivals sprang up; he upheld his dignity among two generations-with the third he was unable to compete. He now looked forward for repose in his old age; all his friends, in whose ranks he fought, all younger than himself, filled high offices. It was a prudent policy in ministers to attach by official ties those who were remembered by the people. He alone was unrewarded; too proud to demand what his station, years, and knowledge entitled him to, he still held on at the bar; he had no hereditary fortune, and he was too generous and hospitable in his habits to accumulate one; he set value on money only as the means of augmenting his hospitality. An old and firm friend, who had raised himself to dignity by his superior genius, at length took up his cause, and on the passing of the Insolvent Debtors' Act Mr. B. was appointed commissioner. The tribute was slow and inadequate-his long and steady services deserved a nobler remuneration. After forty years of labour in the field of liberty, a government pretending to the character of liberal should have looked on one of the most meritorious of its advocates with a more benign eye. But, insufficient as the appointment was, it came with a grateful welcome. "You and I," said he to his friend Parsons, who received a similar appointment, "are the first to take the benefit of the Insolvent Act.' The Goldsmith of the bar, he was as inspired, as simple, and sometimes as absent. Once, when stating proceedings connected with a bill of exchange to the jury, he forgot the name of the drawer, and turning round asked some person, "What's his name?" Napoleon Bonaparte," was the answer. "Gentlemen, my client, Napoleon Bonaparte drew this bill," &c. All this he uttered with the gravest composure imaginable. His simplicity has afforded Sir Jonah scope for his powers of story-telling. The fabulous description of the famous duel with Mr. Butler at once occurs to the reader, and if he should be ignorant of the improbable fictions of the imaginative knight, we would refer him to the Sketches for an amusing account of the "Gingerbread Duel." A barrister named Northcott, of considerable celebrity in his day, published a satirical poem, in which Mr. Burroughs was highly eulogised, and Burke Bethel not at all to his liking, as the following lines attest: "Bless me! so consequential with inferiors, My joke with Curran-there I'm Curran's brother- After the appearance of these lines, Mr. Burroughs met Burke in the hall. "Bethel, very hard lines these-spinning a necklace for his client's throat." "By G- they are," quoth Burke with a melancholy protrusion of the nether lip; "it looks d-d like an insinuation-what the d—l shall I do ?" "Oh! by all means challenge him." And so off trotted Burke, vindictive as an ogre, to retrieve his lost character on the body of Norcott. Mr. B. knew the inconstancy of Burke's valour, and the humorous temperament of his opponent. He waited anxiously for Burke's return. "Well, Bethel-what news?" "All's right," responded Burke. 66 Very glad of it-of course an apology." "Yes-and a very satisfactory one. I warrant you, I made the scoundrel promise to mend all in a second edition !” But, unfortunately for Burke's reputation, the second edition never saw the light, yet he was not without revenge, for Norcott went to the East and turned Mahometan. As a lawyer Mr. Burroughs ranked deservedly high; he had retired long before the writer of this memoir reached the bar, but his name is still held there in high veneration. As an orator he reached a more exalted rank. Every person is aware how much the orator is indebted to external graces, a keen and animated eye, an intelligent countenance, a soft and flexible voice, and graceful gesture. Most of these attributes he did not possess; his voice was peculiarly inharmonious. But these defects were atoned for by his language. It was habitual with the orators of that day to resort to one of those fine frauds which in another department of art are practised with such success. Sculptors diminish the heads of their figures to give a more imposing air to the main trunk. So was it with Mr. B. To hold him up to the younger members of the profession as their models, might, in most instances, be of no effect. But there is no person, however meanly gifted, who may not pursue the same path of pure honour and unsullied integrity, of high and unbending independence, incapable of being seduced from devotion to his country, or Nov. 1838.-VOL. XXIII.-NO. XCI. R |