If our

and that is, to give over the folly of breathing at all. I had some hope for this persecuted country, but that, I fear, is over. heads were curled like the Africans, I suppose we should go snacks with them in the justice and sympathy of that humane and philanthropic nation of yours; but if her tears of commiseration should make the hair of the Africans lank like ours, I make no doubt but you would send a coxcomb or two politically and madly like to Ireland.

and

*

686 'Ever

yours,

J. P. CURRAN.'

"His short stay at Cheltenham could scarcely be called existence. During that time he was with difficulty induced to pass the week of the Gloucester musical festival at Hynham Court, near that city. Here he became restless and unmanageable. Music, of which he had been so passionately fond, only irritated and incensed him. All of a sudden, at one of the morning performances at the Cathedral, he took it into his head that the whole proceeding was a blasphemy, and insisted on elbowing himself out through the aisle! Remonstrance was in vain. I'll stand it no longer!' he exclaimed, while all eyes were turned towards him; 'it's shameful -it's sinful-just hear him-the black, odious-baboon, yelling out that "the Lord is a man of war." I'll not countenance it' -and away he went! Nothing whatever could induce him again to enter the Cathedral, and he abruptly returned to Cheltenham on the next day, whither, under the circumstances, I felt it a duty to follow him. He had had, it seems, some premonitory symptoms in the spring of the year, at which his physicians felt no alarm, but which greatly added to his own depression. It was but too clear, however, that nature was almost exhausted. He fell asleep in the daytime, and even after dinner, and when he awoke it was to thoughts of sadness. It was in this frame of mind

I have left an hiatus here, out of my high respect for the Attorney-General.-C. PHILLIPS.

that he once said to Mr. Grattan, 'I begin to tremble for Ireland. I almost wish to go to Spain, and borrow a beard, and turn monk. I am weaning off my early affections, and almost wish the gravedigger would overtake me in another country?' He was perpetually fancying things which never had existence, and misinterpreting those which had. He told me he was dying.

"Poor fellow! little did I then think that, in a very few days, I was to see the verification of his forebodings! The heart, indeed, was still beating, but the tongue-that tongue so eloquent -was mute forever. On Wednesday, the 8th of October, I called on him at his lodgings in Brompton. One of his eyes was swqllen, and partly closed; but so little was it heeded, that he asked me to dine with him on the day following, to meet Mr. Godwin. It was, however, alas! a fatal premonitory symptom. At eleven o'clock at night he wrote the following note to me--the last he was to write! It is remarkable that there is not a superfluous word in it. In fact, he was struck with apoplexy in two hours after.

"Dear Phillips-Just got a note: Mrs. Godwin is sick; he'll dine here Sunday. If you prefer an invalid, come to-morrowYou'd be more gratified on Sunday. Utrum horum? Yours, 'J. P. CURRAN.

"Wednesday.'

"This note I received at my hotel at seven o'clock on Thursday morning, and with it the mournful intelligence of what had occurred. I hastened at once to Brompton, and, alas! what a spectacle awaited me! There he lay upon the bed of deathscarcely breathing-one eye closed, and one side quite inanimate.

"And this was all that now remained of CURRAN-the light of society-the glory of the forum-the Fabricius of the senate-the idol of his country. The only symptom of intelligence he gave was his squeezing my hand when I asked if he recognised me. A few days afterward he seemed conscious of the presence of one of

his oldest and most valued friends, the late Judge Burton. All that filial piety could do, aided by the most eminent of the faculty, to alleviate his sufferings, was done. At seven o'clock on the evening of the fourteenth of October, I saw him for the last time at nine we lost him. He expired at 7 Amelia Place Brompton, in the sixty-eighth year of his age."*]

He had arrived in London in September, where he proposed to pass the winter, still intending to proceed to the south of France, or Italy, in the commencement of the ensuing spring. His spirits were now in a state of the most distressing depression. He complained of having "a mountain of lead upon his heart." This despondency he increased by dwelling perpetually upon the condition of Ireland, which his imagination was for ever representing to him as doomed to endless divisions and degradation. A few days before his last illness he dined with his friend, the late Mr. Thomas Thompson. After dinner he was for a while cheerful and animated, but some allusion having been made to Irish politics, he instantly hung down his head, and burst into tears. On the 7th of October, a swelling appeared over one of his eyes, to which, attributing it to cold, he gave little attention. On the night of the 8th, he was attacked by apoplexy. He was attended by two eminent physicians, Doctors Badham and Ainslie, and by Mr. Tegart, of Pall Mall, all of whom pronounced his recovery to be impossible. The utmost efforts of their skill could not protract his existence many days. Mr. Curran expired at nine o'clock at night, on the 14th of October, 1817, in the 68th year of his age. During his short illness, he appeared entirely free from pain; he was speechless from the commencement of the attack, and with the excep

* From Phillip's Recollections.-M.

+His last moments were so tranquil that those around him could scarcely mark the moment of expiration. Though surprised by sickness at a distance from his home, he was not condemned to receive the last offices from the hands of strangers: three of his children, Captain Curran of the Navy, his son at the Irish Bar, and his daughter, Mrs. Taylor, were fortunately in London, and had the mournful gratification of paying the last duties to their illustrious father.-O'REGAN.

tion of a few intervals, quite insensible. His last minutes were so placid, that those who watched over him could not mark the exact moment of expiration. Three of his children, his son-in-law, and daughter-in-law, and his old and attached friend, Mr Godwin, surrounded his death-bed, and performed the last offices of piety and respect.

Mr. Curran's funeral did not take place till the 4th of November. His will, which it was supposed would have contained his own instructions upon the subject, having been left in Ireland, it was found necessary to await the examination of that document, and the directions of the executors.* In the interval, Mr. Daniel O'Connell, who was at Bath, and on the point of setting out with his family for Dublin, having received information of Mr. Curran's death, very generously sacrificed every consideration of private convenience, and hastened up to London, to attend his deceased

* O'Regan (who wrote in 1817) says: "The children of Mr. Curran who now survive him are Richard, who was called to the Irish bar, and for some years has retired from it, under the visitation of a settled melancholy; John, a captain in the Navy; William, now an Irish barrister, and a gentleman of considerable promise. Mrs. Taylor, the wife of an English clergyman; Amelia, unmarried. He had another son, James, who died in the East Indies; and a daughter, who is also dead. Of his brothers I knew two: one who is seneschal of Newmarket; the other was bred an attorney, and was considered a young man of as much natural genius as Mr. Curran himself.

"The date of the will is the 19th of September, 1816, and was opened in presence of Mr. Burton, Mr. Richards, Mr. M'Nally, Mr. John Franks, barristers, and Mr. Ponsonby Shaw. It was deposited at Mr. Shaw's bank; and the abstract, which I know to be authentic, is as follows: His real and personal property is left in trust to Philpot Fitzgerald for his life-use, with remainder to Mr. Curran's collateral relations; subject to a charge of £5000 for Henry Fitzgerald, brother to Philpot Fitzgerald, called his nephews; a provision on the estate of £80 a year for Mrs. Curran for her life; an annuity of £50 a-year to his daughter Amelia Curran, in addition to such provision as he before had made for her; a sum of £300 was bequeathed to Mrs. Dickson, of Brompton: some small Jexacies; but neither of his sons Richard, John, or William, were mentioned in the will or codicil; nor his daughter Mrs. Taylor. Thomas Quin, John Franks, John Glover, and Charles Burton, Esquires, were named trustees and executors.-He had in the Irish funds from ten to twelve thousand pounds in the 3 per cents, stock in his own name. The Priory was the whole of his freehold estate. The interest he had in a lease of his former residence in the county of Cork had expired. He also had some property in the American funds, but I cannot at present ascertain its amount; it is supposed not to have been considerable."-M.

countryman to the grave: an act of affectionate respect which was peculiarly honourable to that gentleman, between whom and Mr. Curran a considerable misunderstanding had latterly existed upon the subject of Catholic politics. It was the anxious desire of Mr. O'Connell, and of several other friends of Mr. Curran, who were upon the spot, that his remains should be transported to his own country, in order to give a people, with whose interests and destiny the departed advocate had so entirely identified his own, a final opportunity of publicly testifying their admiration and regrets. Those who advised this measure were aware that he had himself (when he felt his end approaching) found a source of affecting consolation in the hope that, wherever it should be his fate to expire, Ireland would claim him. "The last duties (he pathetically observed in one of his latest letters) will be paid by that country on which they are devolved; nor will it be for charity that a little earth shall be given to my bones. Tenderly will those duties be paid, as the debt of well-earned affection, and of gratitude not ashamed of her tears." But with this last wish it was now found impossible to comply. His will was altogether silent regarding his interment; and of the four executors whom he had appointed only one was present in Dublin. That excellent person (Mr. John Franks of the Irish bar), had he been left to the exercise of his sole discretion, would have yielded to none in performing any act of honour or affection to the memory of his friend; but in consequence of the absence of the other executors, and from several legal considerations, he could not feel himself justified in authorising any departure from the ordinary course. Mr. Curran's remains were, therefore, privately interred in London, in one of the vaults of the Paddington church.*

*The persons who attended his funeral were (besides the members of his own family) Mr. Tegart, Messrs. Lyne and P. Phillips, of the Irish bar, Mr. P. Finnerty, the late Mr. Thomas Thompson, the Rev. George Croly, Mr. Thomas Moore, and Mr. Godwin. Mr. O'Connell's professional engagements had obliged him reluctantly to depart for Ireland before the day of Mr. Curran's interment.-C. [Mr. O'Connell was at Bath when Curran died. He immediately wrote to Mr. Phillips, at London, strongly recommending a public