“The old judge, believing every word of so plausible a statement, said, ‘I have heard enough; I commit Lyster for trial, and bind over Mr. Fitzgerald to prosecute; and I do so, expressing my approbation of Mr. Fitzgerald’s manly conduct, in refusing to fight Mr. Martin, and thus appealing for redress to the laws of his country.’
“Shortly after this curious scene, I heard that Fitzgerald was at Castlebar, and had it intimated to him that I should be there. I travelled with Mr. H. Flood[[18]] in his carriage, and he kindly offered to be my friend, which I declined—fearing to have exposed him to some insult.
[18]. This was the celebrated Henry Flood, the antagonist of Grattan—certainly the ablest statesman of his day. He had himself fought more than once; and had killed Mr. Eager, the father of Lord Clifden, of Gowran.
“I had sent my duelling pistols by a fellow who got drunk on the road, and forgot his errand;—so that I remained some hours at Lord Lucan’s house, expecting in vain their arrival, during which period I heard that Mr. Fitzgerald was parading the town with a number of persons from Turlow, his own estate, famous for its mobs trained to every kind of outrage.[[19]] I heard, too, that he said, I waited for Lord Altamont’s carriage, which, observed he significantly, would not arrive. Here I have to remark that I had written a note to Lord Altamont, to say that I would gladly compound for a slight wound in the expected affair, and that I requested his carriage might be in waiting for me at Castlebar, which is only eight miles from Westport. George Robert had heard this, and said to the mob, ‘Mr. Martin expects Altamont’s carriage, but he may wait long enough; for though the horse is a brave animal, I fancy Altamont’s are like the owner, and will not stand the smell of powder.’
[19]. These were the gentry by whom the author was some time subsequently so closely beleaguered at the yarn fair at Castlebar, as hereafter mentioned.
“These taunts reached me; and procuring a case of the common holster pistols my servant rode with, I determined to use them: but they were so stiff in the trigger that I could hardly let them off. I fastened on my sword, and putting my hand under Doctor Merlin’s arm, walked into the town, and soon saw Fitzgerald, followed by his mob. He too wore his sword, and I instantly told him to draw. He answered that he was lame, the pavement bad, and that he could not keep his footing; that I had Lord Lucan’s mob on my side; and that, in short, he would not fight me.