[34]. This circumstance is mentioned in my “Historic Anecdotes of the Union,” among several others, which were written before the present work was in contemplation. But the incident now before the reader is so remarkable that I have gone into it more particularly. Many will peruse this book who will never see the other, into which have been interwoven, in fact, numerous sketches of those days that I now regret I did not retain for the present work, to which they would have been quite appropriate.
Lieutenant H—— was an officer of the line, on half pay. His brother was one of the solicitors to the Crown—a quiet, tremulous, vino deditus sort of man, and a leading Orangeman;—his widow, who afterward married and survived a learned doctor, was a clever, positive, good-looking Englishwoman, and, I think, fixed the doctor’s avowed creed: as to his genuine faith, that was of little consequence.
Lieutenant H—— was about six feet two inches high;—strong, and broad in proportion. His strength was great, but of the dead kind, unaccompanied by activity. He could lift a ton, but could not leap a rivulet; he looked mild, and his address was civil—neither assuming nor at all ferocious. I knew him well, and from his countenance should never have suspected him of cruelty; but so cold-blooded and so eccentric an executioner of the human race I believe never yet existed, save among the American Indians.[[35]]
[35]. His mode of execution being perfectly novel, and at the same time ingenious, Curran said, “The lieutenant should have got a patent for cheap strangulation.”
His inducement to the strange barbarity he practised I can scarcely conceive; unless it proceeded from that natural taint of cruelty which so often distinguishes man above all other animals when his power becomes uncontrolled. The propensity was probably strengthened in him from the indemnities of martial law, and by those visions of promotion whereby violent partizans are perpetually urged, and so frequently disappointed.[[36]]
[36]. “We love the treason, but hate the traitor,” is an aphorism which those who assume prominent parts in any public convulsion are sure to find verified. Many instances took place in Ireland; and in France exemplifications occurred to a very considerable extent. A blind zealot is of all men most likely to become a renegade if he feel it more convenient: prejudice and interest unite to form furious partizans, who are never guided by principle—for principle is founded on judgment.