“I opposed putting off the trial of George Robert, and concluded to this effect:—‘Though believing that, in course of a long life, this wretched father had committed many crimes, yet the greatest crime against society and the greatest sin against Heaven that he ever perpetrated, was the having begotten the traverser.’
“On this, George Robert said, smiling, ‘Martin, you look very healthy—you take good care of your constitution; but I tell you, that you have this day taken very bad care of your life.’
“The trial went on; and it was proved, among a great number of other barbarities, that the father was chained by his son George Robert to a dray, and at times to a muzzled bear: a respectable jury found the traverser guilty; and Lord Carleton sentenced him to three years’ imprisonment, and to pay a fine to the king of five hundred pounds.
“‘Kissing’ at this time went ‘by favour;’ and Mr. Conally, the brother-in-law of George Robert, obtained from the late Duke of Buckingham, then Lord Lieutenant, the pardon and release of Fitzgerald.
“Some months after, I happened to pass through Castlebar, and learned that Mr. Fitzgerald was in the town. I had heard of his denunciations, but my determination was, neither to avoid nor seek my antagonist. Desirous of ascertaining what I had to expect, I requested a friend to call on him, and, after conversation on some ordinary subject, to say that I had been in the town.
“This was done, and George Robert answered, ‘that he hoped, whenever we met, it would not be as enemies.’
“My friend reported this: but, on the whole, I thought it as well not to seek any occasion of meeting a person who, I apprehended, might, so soon after our dispute, be induced to depart from his pacific resolution; I therefore proceeded on my journey to Dublin.
“Mrs. Crawford, I found, had been engaged to play for a few nights at Crow Street theatre, and I determined to see her Belvidera. I had not long taken my seat in the front row of the stage-box, when I heard a noisy, precipitate step, and an order given in a commanding tone for the box to be opened. I turned, and saw Mr. Fitzgerald, who took his place on the next row. His look indicated rage, and I therefore left my place in front, and took my seat on the same row with him. He stared for a moment or two directly into my face, then turned away and laughed, on which I asked, ‘Have you any thing particular to say to me, Mr. Fitzgerald?’
“He answered, with a stern look of defiance—‘Only to tell you that I followed you from Castlebar, to proclaim you the bully of the Altamonts.’
“‘You have said enough, Mr. Fitzgerald; you no doubt expect to hear from me, and it shall be early in the morning.’