Father and son proceeded home; and old Pat immediately sought all means to convince young Pat of his faults having been condoned. He was informed of the business transactions then pending; and his father handed him a cheque for a considerable amount, and directed him to proceed to the bank, and pay some bills which were due that day.
Young Pat departed. He did not return; and the notary's messengers called in the evening with the unpaid bills. The miserable parent was only able to discover that his son had been seen, during the afternoon, in most disreputable society. Next morning old Pat waited on Mr. White, and thanked him most warmly for his exertions to reclaim the young reprobate by his advice and expostulations. "If anything could have produced a good effect on him," exclaimed the agonized father, "it would have been your advice, your example, and the contemplation of the sweet scene and happy family to which your invitation last week——"
"My dear sir," interrupted Mr. White, "there is a great delusion on your mind. I have not seen your son, nor have I had any communication whatever with him for more than twelve months."
The old gentleman staggered to a seat. A terrible convulsion shook his frame. Then supervened that which is fearful to witness in woman, but doubly horrible in man, hysterical tears and sardonic laughter. At length the fit terminated. Old Pat arose and took his leave. He walked away with surprising energy, and his countenance assumed a calmness beneath which was concealed nothing less
"Than the stern, single, deep, and wordless ire
Of a strong human heart, and in a sire."
Old Pat sought a private interview with Major Sirr, and confided to him strong suspicions that young Pat was compromised with the United Irishmen, and that if closely and properly interrogated, he could disclose a great deal, especially as to some depôts of pikes and other weapons intended for insurrectionary purposes. He affected to stipulate for the utmost secrecy as to the Major's informant, protested that he regarded the rebels with the utmost horror and detestation, and that he had no idea of favoring a change in public affairs detrimental to those who, by unremitting industry, had realized property. He suggested that his son, when arrested, should be brought to the Custom House, which, at that time, was in Essex Street, and directly opposite to his own residence on Ormond Quay. Sirr entered into his views, complimented him on his prudence and loyalty, and took immediate measures for the arrest of young Pat, who, when captured, was delivered to some of "Beresford's Troop," to exercise their inquisitorial talents in eliciting all he knew about men whom he had never seen, and as to designs of which, in all probability, he had never heard. The young man was perfectly free from all political or religious influences. Beau Brummell might as justly have been accused of complicity in the designs of revolutionary sans culottes, as young Pat of any sympathy with other pursuits than the midnight orgies and debasing revels of the worst of both sexes.
In the Custom House yard he was interrogated, and his denials only produced louder and sterner demands. Truth, strict truth, issued from lips to which it had been hitherto a stranger. The triangles stood before him, and all his protestations of innocence were uttered to ears worse than deaf. He was stripped, tied up, and lashed until he swooned; then taken down, and recalled to a sense of existence by restoratives, only to be put up again, until, at last, he lay before his torturers, a lacerated and semi-animate frame, incapable of enduring further suffering. They cursed him as an obdurate, callous villain, from whom nothing could be extorted; and whilst his terrific punishment was in process of infliction, his father was looking on, from the window of his residence. The wretched youth was conveyed home, and a considerable time elapsed before he was sufficiently recovered to proceed to America, whence he never returned. His father made no secret of the means he adopted to punish young Pat and to trick the Major.
Sirr was occasionally humorous. He announced to one of his acquaintances the fate which was expected to befal Theobald Wolfe Tone, in the laconic phrase—"Mr. Tone is to a-tone to-morrow in the front of Newgate." Galvin, the hangman, having applied to Sirr for his interest and recommendation to procure a small pension, laid before him a memorial, which he was desirous of having forwarded to Government under the Major's auspices. In it the veteran executioner submitted that for many years he had acted as finisher of the law in the County and City of Dublin, with frequent visits for professional purposes to towns on the Home and the Leinster circuits. That age and infirmities were rendering him incapable of continuing his public duties; and that he humbly besought a small pension for the support of his declining years. "Tom," said the Major, "you should have stated in your memorial that during your official career you discharged your duties to the perfect satisfaction of all parties concerned." "I thank you, Major," replied the stupid old wretch, "I'll get it altered, and put that in." One of Sirr's colleagues, a barrister, was remarkable for speaking in a low voice, and with a great lisp. He was indebted to the Major for the nickname of "Mississippi."
At a funeral in St. Werburgh's churchyard, and close by the vaults in which the body of Lord Edward Fitzgerald had been deposited, the Major was present. After the interment, a Mr. S. ——, whose person was invariably extremely slovenly, approached him and remarked, "I suppose, Major, that you cannot be here without thinking of Lord Edward."