“‘Shall you be at Sligo?’ was Mr. Fitzgerald’s reply.
“I said, ‘It was not my present purpose; but if he wished it, I would be there, and that immediately.’
“He named the day, to which I assented. It was reported, but I cannot vouch for the fact, that a party was sent to intercept and murder me. Shortly after I reached Sligo, my opponent sent Sir M. Crafton to say, that ‘Mr. Fitzgerald did not require any further renewal of the quarrel;’ and thus the affair ended. My surprise at Fitzgerald’s being alive and well, after having received two shots from horse-pistols full upon him, was soon cleared up; he had plated his body so as to make it completely bullet proof. On receiving my fire, he fell from the force of the balls striking him direct, and touching his concealed armour.—My wound was in the body.
“The elegant and gentlemanly appearance of this man, as contrasted with the savage treachery of his actions, was extremely curious and without any parallel of which I am aware.”
RECRUITING AT CASTLEBAR.
Further particulars respecting George Robert Fitzgerald—His band of myrmidons—Proposal made to the author—He accedes to it, and commences the “recruiting service”—Hospitality at an Irish inn—Practical joking—The author’s success in enlisting George Robert’s outlaws—Serjeant Hearn and Corporal O’Mealy—Fair day at Castlebar—A speech, succeeded by “beating orders”—Mutiny among the new levies—The utility of hanks of yarn—An inglorious retreat, and renunciation, by the author, of the honours of a military life.
There were few men who flourished in my early days that excited more general or stronger interest than Mr. George Robert Fitzgerald, of Turlow, the principal object of the preceding sketch. He was born to an ample fortune, educated in the best society, had read much, travelled, and been distinguished at foreign courts: he was closely allied to one of the most popular and also to one of the most eminent personages of his own country; being brother-in-law to Mr. Thomas Conolly of Castletown, and nephew to the splendid, learned, and ambitious Earl of Bristol, Bishop of Derry:—yet, so powerfully did some demon seize upon his mind, and—let us hope—disorder his intellect, that though its starting was thus brilliant, his life presented one continuous series of outrage, and his death was a death of ignominy.
I have neither space nor inclination to become his general biographer;—in truth, he has never, to my knowledge, had any true one.[[20]] Both his friends and enemies are now all nearly hors de combat. I know but two contemporaries capable of drawing his portrait; and in the words of one of these I have recited an anecdote not unworthy of being recorded.—I always conceive that a writer characterising the nearly exhausted generation of which he has been a contemporary, resembles a general who dates dispatches from the field of battle, wherein he details the actions and merits of his friends or enemies, while the subjects of the bulletin lie gasping or quite dead before him—and he himself only awaiting the fatal bullet which, even while he writes, may send him to his comrades. This is my own case!
[20]. I have read, in biographical books, George Robert Fitzgerald described as a great, coarse, violent Irishman, of ferocious appearance and savage manners. His person and manners were totally the reverse of this: a more polished and elegant gentleman was not to be met with. His person was very slight and juvenile, his countenance extremely mild and insinuating; and, knowing that he had a turn for single combat, I always fancied him too genteel to kill any man except with the small-sword.