Armstrong was another man who, unlike Turner and Magan, boldly betrayed, and by baring his name to popular odium, bared his breast to its penalties. He lived to old age in a district specially burrowed by agrarian crime; but, though often taunted with his treachery, never suffered a pin-scratch at the hands of the people.

Before Armstrong comes on the scene it is well to give some account of the men he so cruelly betrayed.[692] This becomes the more imperative, inasmuch as unpublished letters of Sheares, containing important explanations, were placed in my hands for historic use by the late Mr. Justice Hayes.

The father of John and Henry Sheares was a banker and member of the Irish Parliament, remarkable for having introduced a bill, which became law in 1766, for the regulation of trials in cases of treason, and under which his sons were afterwards tried. He was a person of culture, too, author of some touching reflections on 'Man in Society, and at his Final Separation from it.' Several passages seem to reveal a presentiment of the great domestic tragedy which he did not live to see. A practical Christian, he published an essay elaborating the great fact that unless man forgives, he can never himself be forgiven; and these inculcations, it is hoped, helped to calm the closing thoughts of his suffering sons. Mr. Sheares founded a Debtors' Charity in Cork, and an amateur performance of 'King Henry IV.,' in aid of it, introduced as its chief histrions the subsequently historic brothers. Their career was highly dramatic. Henry successfully competed for the hand of Miss Swete with a young barrister, Mr. John FitzGibbon, who, as the Lord Clare of after years, is said to have shown that he neither forgot nor forgave. In 1792 Henry Sheares visited France to see his children at school. The Revolution was then at its height; he and his brother John became intimate with Brissot and Rolande, and thenceforth may be dated the birth of that bias which finally made both easy prey for Armstrong. In July 1793, Henry Sheares challenged his early rival, now Lord FitzGibbon, to explain or retract what he called an 'infamous calumny,' conveyed in a speech wherein the chancellor referred to two men, agents of the French Jacobin Club, who had employed themselves in disseminating its principles in Dublin. But even John Sheares was not the revolutionist which party spirit loved to depict him. A letter appears in the 'Castlereagh Papers,' in which the writer, Redhead York, describes John Sheares at Versailles, falling on his knees and vowing that he would plant a poignard in the heart of any person who would hurt a hair on the head of the Queen of France. In 1792 Henry, a barrister of some years' standing, secured the house, 128 Lower Baggot Street, Dublin, now the Ulster Bank. It was at that time a corner house; but Sheares, shortly before his death, assigned a plot of ground adjoining it whereon the two houses between Sheares's residence and Pembroke Street were built. The large block of buildings between St. Stephen's Green and Sheares's house did not then exist. Miss Steele saw, from her father's back windows in the Green, the soldiers surrounding Sheares's home when, in May 1798, treason was deemed sufficiently ripe for a coup. John Sheares, the junior of Henry by nine years, lived with him, and the utmost fraternal love subsisted between both.

Captain John Warneford Armstrong, the descendant of a Scotch settler in Ireland, was at heart a supporter of oligarchical principles, but acted so well the part of a flaming patriot, that Byrne, a democratic bookseller, led Armstrong to his private room and presented him to Sheares as 'a true brother on whom you may implicitly depend.' Henry declined to hold converse unless in presence of his brother John. Armstrong said he would wait until John came. Conversation, however, had commenced before his arrival; he at length appeared with Byrne, and the latter introduced Armstrong in an equally impressive way. Armstrong deposed on the trial that John Sheares said—'I know your principles very well,' and asked him to join the cause by action as he had already done by inclination. Armstrong replied—'I am ready to do everything in my power for it, and if you can show me how I can assist I will serve you to the utmost.' John, an impulsive youth, said that the best way he could help was to gain over the soldiery, and confer with him as to the best way of seizing the royal camp. Armstrong appointed to meet him at Baggot Street with this end; he did so, and on Sunday night, May 13, paid another visit—both brothers being present. On the 15th he called twice; John Sheares said he would like to introduce him to a friend of his, Surgeon (afterwards General) Lawless, with whom he might consult and advise in his absence—he [John] being obliged to go down and organise Cork. All this time Henry Sheares is found reticent, and at some of the interviews he was not present at all. However, on Thursday, the 17th, both brothers appeared to this apparently zealous convert to their cause; Lawless was also by, and (according to Armstrong's testimony) said: 'He had lately attended a meeting of deputies from almost all the militia regiments, at which meeting there were two of his [the approver's] men.'

Henry Sheares, now familiar with Armstrong as his guest and constant visitor, let fall some remarks by which the betrayer succeeded in implicating him as having knowledge of the military organisation. This was not enough for Armstrong; that evening he returned to their house. Henry did not appear; John came down and obtained a written introduction from him to a sergeant in his regiment, known to be a United Irishman. The most sickening part of this story has yet to be told. Armstrong continued to worm himself into the hearts of his victims. He accepted their invitations to dinner, mingled with their family, listened to Mrs. Sheares singing at the harp for his entertainment, and, as Curran declared, fondled on his knee the child of the man whom he had marked for doom!

The time was now coming, and coming fast, when the blood of the Sheares was to be set free—a fact the more painful, when we know that two of their brothers had already given their lives in the service of the King. Armstrong in the year 1843 said, in presence of Mr., afterwards Lord, O'Hagan, that 'Lord Castlereagh persuaded him to dine with the Sheares with a view to gather further information.' Dogging their steps, scenting their hot blood, and measuring the days they had to live, he at last gave tongue, and on May 21 both brothers were seized. That evening, while John was a prisoner, but as yet ignorant of Armstrong's perfidy, the betrayer is found paying him a visit of condolence, probably hoping to gather, during the excitation of his victim, facts which would compromise absent friends. Any evidence which could incriminate Henry was far less than that affecting John. It is surprising that the wonderful caution shown by Sheares when a younger man should not have made him more guarded in his intercourse with Armstrong; and at this point it is curious to look back at Collins's report (p. 168 ante) where he describes Sheares warning the Society of United Irishmen that spies were spreading snares around.

Anyone reading this trial, with the light now available, cannot fail to be struck by a circumstance which has heretofore passed without comment. The outlook was black for the brothers when their counsel, Plunket, Curran, McNally, and Ponsonby, held a conference to see what could be done. A good point was at last detected; one of the Grand Jury who found the bill appeared to be a foreigner, or, as legally termed, an alien. Law books had to be looked up; some searching inquiries made. McNally, meanwhile, had been despatched to the Court of Common Pleas to appease the judges, who had been waiting for some time and waxed impatient. McNally explained that there was a deliberation among the counsel on a serious point of law, and, until they came in, he could say no more. The court made an effort to draw him, but he parried it with seeming firmness. The case stood adjourned, and when Plunket, Curran, and Ponsonby arrived to spring a surprise, they found Attorney-General Toler (the Lord Norbury of after years) fully prepared, not only by a written 'replication' bristling with points, but by an elaborate oral argument, and, between him and the prime-sergeant, they met the objection with a readiness quite wonderful, and which meant ruin to the brothers. The court of course overruled a plea which counsel for the Sheareses hoped would have quashed the proceedings, and it cannot be doubted that the point had been betrayed to Toler by one of the counsel engaged in the conference.

The Attorney-General said he would go on with the trial of John; but at another conference of their counsel it was decided, in evil hour, that both brothers should go into the dock together and join in their challenge. The luckless suggestion is likely to have come from McNally. Curran was not a great lawyer, his forte lay in cross-examination and classic eloquence; he revered McNally, as has been already shown, and he was not the man to differ with him. Two witnesses, it will be remembered, were then necessary to convict for treason in England; the Irish judiciary were satisfied with one. The amazement of the Sheares on beholding Armstrong enter the witness-box can be guessed. Curran drew a picture of the children of his client sitting in the mansion where Armstrong was hospitably entertained—the aged mother supported by the devotion of her son—and it was suggested that the informer 'smiled upon this scene, contemplating the havoc he was about to make.' Midnight had passed when the evidence closed. Armstrong's first cousin, Thomas Drought, testified, among other damaging facts, to atheistical expressions used by the approver.[693] Lieutenant Shervington, an uncle by marriage, heard Armstrong say 'that if there could be no other person found for the purpose, he would, with pleasure, become the executioner of George III., and glory in the deed.' His uncle replied that if such were his principles he ought to throw up his commission and go over to the enemy at once.

When the trial had proceeded for fifteen hours, Curran, sinking with exhaustion, moved for an adjournment, but Toler opposed, and at eight o'clock next morning a verdict of 'Guilty' was returned. At these words the brothers fell into each other's arms. At three o'clock both were brought up for judgment. Lord Carleton, who presided, was said to have been appointed by Sheares's father the guardian of John, but it is correct to say that he had been only the attached friend of their father.[694] This judge was visibly affected, and made touching reference to the past. John, with his full blue eyes and open countenance, as Maria Steele describes him, made an earnest appeal for his elder brother's life, declaring that he knew nothing of a fatal manuscript that, admittedly written by John, had been found in Henry's desk; all in vain: Toler seemed impatient for the sacrifice, and both were sentenced to be hanged next day. Sir Jonah Barrington prints a painful letter addressed to him by Henry, but which by some mistake did not reach him, he says, till the fatal morning. Henry could not believe that an adverse verdict awaited him, and when at last it came, he was utterly stunned by the blow. Sheares begs Barrington to see Lord Clare:—

Sheares's wife sat for hours in a sedan chair at Lord Clare's hall-door; and when, at length, he appeared, she threw herself at his feet, clasped his knees, and implored him to save her husband, but failed. Barrington, tardily acting upon Henry's letter, had more influence with the chancellor.

Barrington says nothing of Lord Shannon, who was related to the Sheareses, and it is certain that the message for him miscarried. This peer, with the object of offering condolence, called upon their mother[696] the day of the execution, and was greatly distressed when she threw herself upon her knees to beg the favour of his intervention for John; she did not know that Henry had been implicated, and, of course, was ignorant that either had already suffered death. Lord Shannon, in an agony of mind, and unable to explain, rushed from the room.

There was a butchery displayed in the immolation of the brothers which, if employed at the present day on a beast in the shambles, would evoke angry protest. The 'New Cork Evening Post' of July 23, 1798, while supplying some painful details, bears out Barrington's recollection:—

Much feeling was roused by this sanguinary act. Classic students who lived in the past started in horror, comparing the Sheareses to 'the hapless victims' described by Gibbon: 'the two brothers of the Quintilian family whose fraternal love endeared them to posterity—whose bodies seemed animated by one soul—and whose union in death is due to the cruelty of Commodus.' Grattan loudly condemned the men 'whose misrule had brought Ireland to so black a crisis. The question men should have asked was, not why was Mr. Sheares upon the gallows?—but why was not Lord Clare along with him?' And two years later, in a speech of resistance to the Union, he declared that the treason of the minister against the liberties of the people was far worse than the rebellion of the people against the minister. But even in the latter sense, Henry Sheares must be held guiltless. John, pouring out to his sister, in an agonised letter, his most secret thoughts, writes: 'Heaven is my witness how assiduously I sought to keep aloof, in any of my political concerns, from him;' and there is not a line in the evidence of Armstrong to prove that Henry took any active part in the treason. Addis Emmet, Arthur O'Connor, McNevin—all the men who had been at the head of it, and its very soul, were at that hour in gaol. O'Connor declared that he and his colleagues knew nothing of the Sheareses; and it is certain that neither of them had ever intrigued with France, as O'Connor and the others had done. The names of the Sheareses find no place in the list of marked men that Turner gave Downshire (p. 7, ante). This omission can be easily accounted for. Arthur O'Connor, in a letter to Dr. Madden, which pointed out some inaccuracies, writes:—

The following is one of the letters, already promised, and now published for the first time. It is written by Henry previous to his trial:—

The superscription of this letter has been removed—probably by the recipient—and it seems very likely that he left his friend in the lurch, and did not come forward for his defence. The prosecuting counsel of those days loved to taunt such witnesses with a participation in the views held by the accused; they were browbeaten and bullied, and often left the court wincing under some dark innuendo, dropped with jibing leer.

John, the younger brother, wrote two letters to his sister, from which it is clear that—constituted as the jury panel was at that day—he had no hope of acquittal. The matter omitted deals with sundry small debts which he desired should be paid:—

John when in France had been an ardent admirer of Rousseau, whose style he now unconsciously catches:—

In dealing with Armstrong's conduct in this case,[699] I regret being obliged to take a tone different from that of Mr. Lecky, who has placed his character in a somewhat favourable point of view.

The sealed chest in Dublin Castle, which was opened some years ago, contained McNally's secret reports, signed 'J. W.' Among them is the following, dated by McNally, July 14, 1798:—

Lord Cork's Second Letter, dated 11th

Sheares and McNally had been old friends. Sheares stood by him in the hour of danger.[701] These ties were strengthened by the fact that McNally was counsel for him on the trial.[702] Assuming that McNally had the letters in his possession of which he sends copies, it seems quite indefensible to have kept back Lord Cork's, dated July 9, until the very day on which the brothers were hanged. The execution took place in Dublin at 11·45 A.M. on July 14, 1798. Sir Jonah Barrington mentions that a reprieve was granted but did not arrive in time. It cannot be assumed that McNally humanely used these letters in any other quarter, for, as he assures Cooke, he 'has kept them private.'

Sir Jonah Barrington, who was constantly consulted by the Irish Government, says, when noticing Armstrong's evidence against the Sheares, that, unlike Reynolds—a man of spotted fame and impoverished finances—'Armstrong had a stake and a status to lose; but he took the bold course of sacrificing openly the honour of an officer and a gentleman.' These words he would not use had Lord Cork's letter seen the light.

Armstrong, forty-five years after the execution of his victims, held, in a conversation with Dr. Madden, that Curran's statement as to taking 'baby Sheares' on his knee could not be true because he was never fond of children. An unscrupulous man, however, playing a desperate game, and in the excitement of hot pursuit, may have done things contrary to his usual habits. Armstrong's sole effort was to extort the confidence of the Sheares; and he could not forget that he who takes the child by the hand takes the parent by the heart. It is to be feared that Armstrong's oral 'pooh pooh' is untenable. The following anecdote, now told for the first time, rests on the high authority of Lawrence Parsons, Earl of Ross. Armstrong, shortly after the death of the Sheareses, when landing from Holyhead at the Pigeon House, and anxious to avoid hostile greetings from the mob who always awaited the coach which brought to Dublin the usually seasick passengers, crossed the Strand to Sandymount, and when midway observed approaching a lady in black accompanied by two children. The latter on recognising Armstrong ran gleefully to meet him.[703] Needless to say they were the widow and orphans of Henry Sheares. Another authentic anecdote ought to be told. The grand-aunt of Mr. Gray, F.T.C.D., gave him the following curious reminiscence. Her family resided near Armstrong in the King's County, and he was intimate at their house. One evening in 1797 the lady heard angry voices in the parlour, where she had left the gentlemen after dinner, and on turning the handle to re-enter a loud smash followed. Armstrong had talked so much treason that it excited her brother to disgust; and this feeling gave place to rage when Armstrong, having left the room for some minutes, had returned dressed in rebel green. The former seized a decanter and hurled it at Armstrong, who ducked, and the panel suffered instead of his head.

The Rev. Dr. Dobbin, who attended the brothers at their execution, now claims to be heard in a letter published for the first time. It is addressed to Captain William Flemyng, a cousin of the Sheareses:—

The enclosure does not seem to have been sent back by Flemyng as requested. The original of John Sheares's letter is now before me, preserved within the decaying folds of Dr. Dobbin's manuscript:—

The Proclamation which brought John Sheares to the scaffold (Henry had no part in it, and died, so far, innocent) ended with these words:—

These declamatory words of a young barrister and amateur tragedian, who probably had no serious design of going red-handed into revolution, were by no means confined to his mouth. In the Appendix will be found some account of William Orr. Meanwhile, the late Henry Grattan, son of the greater Grattan, writes:—

The fate of the Sheareses was soon forgotten, but occasionally a pilgrim in thoughtful mood wended his way to their last resting place. William Henry Curran sent to the 'New Monthly Magazine,' in 1822, an account of St. Michan's crypt, Church Street, Dublin. This vault possesses the rare virtue of preserving human remains.[707] He was struck on entering to find that decay had been more busy with the tenement than the tenant:—

The late Richard Dalton Webb, when a boy, also went to see these reliques. With a penknife he severed the ligament mentioned by Curran, and carried away the head to his own home, where it remained twenty years. He finally regretted having taken it, and offered it to Dr. Madden, at whose door the gruesome relic duly arrived.

These horrible marks were doubtless caused by the brutal and bungling way in which the executioner had done his work. Madden, in good taste, restored to the shrunken trunk its long-lost head. When John Sheares, in his last letter, spoke of 'an affectionate tear shed over his dust,' he little foresaw the grim irony by which the words of the Burial Service—'Dust to dust, ashes to ashes'—were to be thwarted. He never married. Roche, in his 'Essays of an Octogenarian,' says that, happening to occupy the rooms in Dublin where John Sheares had once lived, he discovered, in a recess, a package of his letters, which, on finding them addressed to a lady, he instantly burned. Rich material for romance was thus, happily, lost.

John Sheares's last letter to his sister makes feeling reference to his natural daughter Louise, then aged seven years. Julia Sheares gave from her pinched resources what served to educate this girl. Louise married a Mr. Coghlan, but, owing to his loose habits, left him. John's dramatic dash descended to his child. She became a popular actress, and was known on the London stage as 'Miss White.' Here the gentle histrion went through many struggles, and was pursued by much adulation. But panting—like Goldsmith's hare—to the spot from whence at first she flew, Louise returned to Ireland, and died there in 1828.

Whilst the parchment features of the Sheareses grinned in agonised expression, and their orphans shivered in the storms of a cold, neglectful world,[708] John Warneford Armstrong battened on his blood-money, and posed as a prosperous and popular man. Lord Cork's damaging account of his antecedents in the letter which remained near a century sealed will be remembered. The magisterial bench hailed his adhesion; he took a leading place on the grand jury of his county; Burke's 'Landed Gentry' enrolled him in its ranks.

In 1843 the name of Captain Armstrong again came before the public, in connection with the prosecution of his servant, Egan, for stealing, among other effects, a gold medal in commemoration of his discoveries in 1798. The late F. Thorpe Porter, from whose lips I had the following anecdote, was on the bench with Sir Nicholas FitzSimon as police magistrate, when the latter, recognising through a glass door the well-known figure of Armstrong approaching, said: 'Here is Sheares' Armstrong; I don't care to meet him,' and retired into a private room. FitzSimon, as former member for the King's County in which Armstrong lived, had been in pleasant touch with him, and often chuckled at his quaint conceits. Armstrong with his accustomed swagger took his seat, uninvited, on the bench. Mr. Porter said that he had not the honour of his acquaintance, and requested him to withdraw. 'I always had this privilege from Major Sirr,' replied Armstrong, unabashed; 'and I am a magistrate for the King's County.' 'This not being the King's County,' retorted Porter, 'I must only repeat my request. If you continue to sit here people in court might suppose that you were—what I should much regret—a friend of mine.'

Sir Thomas Redington, the Under-Secretary, informed Mr. Porter that Armstrong had reported to the Government the words of which he complained, but that it was decided to take no action in the matter.

Soon after a case came on for hearing before the judicial Chairman of the King's County, to whom the Clerk of the Peace, speaking in a half-whisper, said: 'Sheares' Armstrong' (a nickname by which he was well known) 'has some testimony to offer which it might be well for you to hear.' This was done, and the chairman, in summing up, said: 'I now come to the evidence of Mr. Sheares Armstrong'—and he then proceeded to observe upon it, innocently using—over and over again—the stigmatising nickname, to the amusement of the audience and the agony of Armstrong. All was not couleur de rose with this prosperous person. 'The Attornies Guide,' a local satire, published at Dublin in 1807, and written by the Rev. Richard Frizell, rector of Ilfracombe, notices as a judgment, a fact which can be regarded merely as a coincidence: 'Shortly after he gave his ever-memorable evidence on the trial of these unfortunate gentlemen—the Sheareses—he was afflicted with a fistula in the face, which rendered him as remarkable an object as Cain is supposed to have been after the murder of his brother.' Frizell finally exclaims (p. 42):—

Stings like these must have severely tried his patience. His temper was of as hair-trigger a character as the pistols which he carried for protection. Robert Maunsell, a leading solicitor, of whom Armstrong was a client, informed me that the captain, on one occasion, when entertained by Mrs. Maunsell in Merrion Square, smashed, by an awkward swinging gesture, the leg of the chair on which he sat, whereupon his exclamation was not a gallant apology, but—'D—— n your chairs, madam!' This, Maunsell said, was intoned with a nasal twang—the penalty paid for the lupus—which ate into his beauty fifty years before.

To earn 500l. a year Armstrong must have done something more than merely to ensnare the Sheareses, although hitherto he has been credited with that exploit alone. William Lawless was Professor of Physiology at the College of Surgeons, Dublin, a man of mark, and very highly connected. Immediately after his interview with Armstrong at Sheares's house we find a warrant issued for his arrest, and it was not Armstrong's fault if he failed to meet the fate of the brothers. A timely hint from Surgeon-general Stewart put Lawless on the alert. By hair-breadth escapes he eluded his pursuers, and at last reached France, where he became a distinguished general under Napoleon.

Armstrong, when stealing on the Sheareses, sought to kill another bird with the same stone. He was clearly making notes for the ruin of Lawless as well, and mentioned on Sheares's trial, among other remarks alleged to have been made by Lawless, that the trees near the Royal camp would come handy in suspending prisoners captured by the rebel force. Lawless had luckily escaped at this time, but at once wrote indignantly denying that he had ever made so horrible a suggestion. Previous to his flight he had resided in French Street, Dublin, whither Major Sirr proceeded with a warrant both for his arrest and that of John Sheares, who had been in daily conference with him. While Sirr was engaged in searching Lawless's house a knock came to the door, Sheares entered, and Sirr at once said, 'You are my prisoner.'

Lawless had seen Lord Edward constantly during the period of his concealment; but Armstrong knew nothing of the chieftain's movements, and, of course, had no hand in his betrayal, though some infer to the contrary from a passing remark made by Mr. Froude.[709] But he qualified for his pension by a general vigilance and activity in support of that red system and policy which John Sheares's proclamation brands. Armstrong having been questioned by Curran as to three peasants which he had taken prisoners in '98, he replied: 'We were going up Blackmore Hill, under Sir James Duff; there was a party of rebels there. We met three men with green cockades. One we shot, another we hanged, and the third we flogged and made a guide of.'[710]

The murder of a little child by a yeoman named Woolagan excited, even in those days, a feeling of abhorrence, and Plowden, in his 'History of Ireland,' notices Woolagan's acquittal by the court-martial which tried him, but does not cite the evidence. This we find in the 'Dublin Magazine' for October 1798. There it will be seen that the murderer threw the onus on the general orders issued by Captain Armstrong. Phillips and Curran, who have written of that man, do not appear to have read this trial. The crime was proved and not denied, yet Woolagan was acquitted. But the Viceroy, Lord Cornwallis, condemned the verdict, and disqualified the president of the court-martial, Lord Enniskillen, from again presiding in that capacity.

Captain Armstrong, though hot-tempered, was capable of generous acts, and his redeeming points must not be ignored. He was a bad hater, a good laugher. Affable to all, he frequently went out of his way to be civil; and with him sweet words had more than their proverbial value. In days when landlordism reigned with iron sceptre, he showed indulgence to his tenantry; but when giving leases, or using his influence with higher lords of the soil for that end, he cunningly got his own life inserted as a beneficial interest to the tenants. Thus in the hot-bed of Ribbonism he gloried to the end in a sort of charmed life. He survived until April 20, 1858, when he died at Clara, in the King's County, after having drawn from Dublin Castle 500l. a year, or about 29,464l. Castlereagh, who had urged him to his work, recommended him for a pension, and predeceased him by nearly forty years, might have deemed this sum excessive had he lived to see it paid.

Seeking to disarm prejudice and cultivate rural friendship, Armstrong maintained cordial relations with the peasantry. He would enter their cabins, sit with rude hosts, and converse with their wives on various domestic points solely of interest to themselves. We must suppose that, consistently with his later utterance, their children attracted from him no moving manifestation of regard. His long life had one decided advantage. It is stated that he lived down every political enemy and contemporary, becoming in the end downright popular. His face, familiar from childhood even to old men, became at last endeared to early memories, and his neighbour, Captain Fuller, who attended his funeral, testifies to the almost incredible fact that he saw some well-known Ribbonmen, who were present, weep, and horny hands upraised which, in the hot blood of youth, had dispensed 'the wild justice of revenge.'[711]