Thirty years ago I published in 'Notes and Queries'[427] an exposé of McNally, so far as it could then be done on circumstantial evidence. His secret letters to the Irish Government were not accessible when I first touched the subject, but these have become very familiar to me of late, and it will be seen that all I sought to show is proved by the revelation of McNally's own testimony. Before I come to these letters, some of the remarks with which I had long previously prefaced my doubts may perhaps be allowed to stand.
It is an object with Mr. Froude to show—and evidently as pointing a moral—that men who posed as the greatest patriots were secretly betraying the plans of their colleagues. But although Mr. Froude mentions McNally more than once, it does not appear that he was an informer. When describing the arrest and death of the Rev. Wm. Jackson in 1794, he mentions McNally as 'a popular barrister,' and further on his name is given with that of Curran, Ponsonby, Emmet, and Guinness, as constituting 'the legal strength of Irish Liberalism.' This remark is made in connection with an episode told with such dramatic effect by Mr. Froude that it remains merely for a minor pen to unmask 'the popular barrister.'
Charles Phillips, although he had made the lives of famous Irish barristers his study, as shown in 'Curran and his Contemporaries,' refused to believe any tale to the prejudice of McNally. In the last edition of his popular book Phillips declares that
The thing is incredible! If I was called upon to point out, next to Curran, the man most obnoxious to the Government—who most hated them, and was most hated by them—it would have been Leonard MacNally—that MacNally, who, amidst the military audience, stood by Curran's side while he denounced oppression, defied power, and dared every danger![428]
In this impression he was supported by W. H. Curran, afterwards judge—a man who, unlike his illustrious father, was of the hardest and coldest nature. He travelled out of his path, in writing that father's life, to pronounce a panegyric which is quite a curiosity to exhume:—
Among many endearing traits in this gentleman's private character, his devoted attachment to Mr. Curran's person and fame and, since his death, to the interests of his memory, has been conspicuous. The writer of this cannot advert to the ardour and tenderness with which he cherishes the latter, without emotion of the most lively and respectful gratitude. To Mr. McNally he has to express many obligations for the zeal with which he has assisted in procuring and supplying materials for the present work. The introduction of these private feelings is not entirely out of place—it can never be out of place to record an example of steadfastness in friendship. For three and forty years Mr. McNally was the friend of the subject of these pages; and during that long period he performed the duties of the relation with the most uncompromising and romantic fidelity. To state this is a debt of justice to the dead. The survivor has an ampler reward than any passing tribute of this sort can confer, in the recollection that during their long intercourse not even an unkind look ever passed between them.[429]
These remarks were elicited by a scene which occurred in Finney's trial[430] in '98. John Philpot Curran, embracing McNally, said, 'My old and excellent friend, I have long known and respected the honesty of your heart, but never until this occasion was I acquainted with the extent of your abilities. I am not in the habit of paying compliments where they are undeserved.' Tears fell from Mr. Curran as he hung over his friend.[431] Emotion spread to the Bench, and Judge Chamberlain, and Baron Smith warmly complimented McNally. Poor Curran! He
loved to recall the past moments so dear
When the sweet pledge of faith was confidingly given,
When the lip spoke in voice of affection sincere,
And the vow was exchanged and recorded in Heaven.[432]
In 1817, when Curran died in England, Burton—afterwards judge—singled out McNally, as the attached friend of the illustrious dead, to tell him the sad news.[433]
It does not surprise one that Phillips should have expressed the scepticism he puts on record. No man was more deeply versed in Bar traditions. He loved to question its oldest members about their contemporaries; and amongst all their ana he never heard, as regards McNally, a dark doubt started. 'Dr. Madden in his "Life of Robert Emmet,"' writes Phillips, 'broadly states the fact [that he was in Government pay], but does not give, as he usually does, his grounds for so stating it.'[434] Madden, replying to Phillips, said, 'I acknowledge I am ignorant of the time when the pension of 300l. was conferred.'