breach took place between them, and it was
believed they never could be reconciled. This,
however, is anticipating a little.

Sir Vesey's eldest son, Cæsar Coclough,
thus disowned, and thus brought up in
privation, determined to seek his fortune away
from his native land, and began a career that
is almost picturesque. He went to London
first, about the year 1790, where he tried to
support himself by writing for the press. He
was a man of refined tastes, with a turn for
mechanical inventions, engineering, chemistry,
and music accomplishments which were to be
developed by foreign travel and practice. About
the year 1792, being then about twenty-six, he
ran over to Paris full of spirits, and prepared
to enjoy his expedition. His impressions of
the place at that time were gay, and told
graphically. "I can now manage pork tripes,
and I take breakfast à la mode Francais, without
cloath or butter, and dine at one, two, or
three o'clock off nasty, stinking stews; in fine,
I am quite a Frenchman, except that I drink
much and talk little. I have as yet had no
tidings of my shirts, and really have had but
four these two months; but that is full enough
for Paris, where dirt, parade, pleasure, and
politics are the springs of action. Overstreet
and Betty saw the king and queen this day,
and one of the twenty-three playhouses, and
were quite sick of it before half was over." He
naturally took a fancy to the lively city, had
his lodgings there by the year, and was there
again in August of the same year. There
was a general nervousness then in Paris, when
many were inclined to quit it; but all the
ports were strictly guarded, and no one allowed
out. "When all the conspirators are taken,
then the passports will be renewed, and then I
intend going to Rouen, ready to pass into
England in case any affraca should take place.
Something is wanting much here; really there
is too much licentiousness." In October he
was unable to get away, and was heading
his letters enthusiastically, "Fourth year of
liberty, and the first of Equality and the
French Republic." He had quite caught the
new enthusiasm, had a conversation with
"Roland, the minister of the Intérieur," and
told him of the necessity for sending arms to
Ireland. Everything was growing dearer by
one-half from what it was the year before. The
exchange on England was about twenty. At
the ordinary where he dined they cut off a dish,
but the price was still only fifteen-pence. He
was at a curious dinner in November, where
the English, Scotch, and Irish, with other
strangers, met to celebrate the victory of the
French Republic. Lord Edward Fitzgerald
proposed a toast that all hereditary titles
should be abolished, and Mr. Coclough sat
opposite to Tom Paine, and talked with him on
the state of Ireland, It was agreed between
them that there ought to be an address to the
English people, "to prevent the court
circulating poison about the Irish." On his birthday
he was going to make all his friends drink
to the health of "Good citizen Coclough." But
in January he wrote a curious letter, in a
whisper, as it were, which speaks the awe-stirring
character of the times: "Say not one
word of politics in future. There will be no
war except one particular thing takes place.
Before this is ten miles, Louis the unfortunate
will be no more. I attended his process for
eleven hours yesterday, and he was condemned
to death in the space of twenty-four hours by
a majority of (I counted) thirty-two. Adieu.
The king is going." In March, he went to the
theatre one Sunday night, "and it was as full
as if all France was in the state of riches and
luxury that usually accompanies a continued
and profound peace. The natural levity is such
that I could find numbers of characters like my
father here: in fact, my father, as a Frenchman,
would be called a galant et honnête
homme, for vices here of the most enormous
kind are not considered such." Things,
however, were growing dark for the English.
Money was not to be obtained. The future
French emigrés were bidding with each other
for bills on England, but the difficulty was to
get them into the country, and by writing four
letters, there was a chance of one arriving. A
speculating Englishman could make fifty per
cent of his bill on London. Rare articles were
selling by auction, and he was buying until he
became, as he said, "like a caravan." But
with the war with England all these residents
were converted into détenus, and sent to St.
Germains, where Co cloughwas put into the story
over the room where James the Second died.
Every degree of humanity was shown to them.

His life during this anxious period must have
been a strange one. At times all his supplies
were cut off for months, and then the generosity
of friends in France aided him. At other
seasons he was cast into prison, and once was
very near being included in one of the
deathlists of the Reign of Terror. It was surprising
that, with such recollections, he could have
wished to linger in the country. But all the
while he was laying up a store of grudges
against his father and other relations at home,
who were treating him ill, taking advantage of
his absence, and perhaps praying that some
bonnet rouge would denounce him, and hurry
him up to the nearest lanterne.

In 1794 Sir Vesey died, but his son and heir
was a prisoner of war. Relations of his,
however, took charge of the estate for a time, and
one of them got the abbey newly roofed, having
some three years before got a hint to do so,
from the dining-room cornice and ceiling
tumbling in, and smashing his bed to pieces.
The exile was allowed to make his way down to
Lausanne, where he lived under surveillance,
and found it so attractive that nothing could
tempt him home. A prisoner of fortune in those
days would not have found it hard to obtain
release. His friends informed him that it was
intended to lay a tax of sixteen per cent on old
Irish absentees, but the news did not stir him.
He went on to Ulm.

It was now the year '98, and the Irish
gentleman, who was a democrat in Paris, was to
feel a little acutely the result of those doctrines
nearer home. The rebellion was drawing on.