g, reassured the
public. Next, the news came that writing fatigued him, and that his
physicians forbade it; so, for the future his son John wrote, in his own
name, to the Association, always, as might be expected, taking the
sanguine view of his father's health. A month passed. His physicians
ordered him to Hastings, and after spending a fortnight there he sailed
for France. His intention was to go to Rome. At Lyons, he felt so poorly
that he was obliged to refuse audiences to the various deputations of
that Catholic city, which crowded to his hotel to do him honour. He
arrived at Genoa, his final stage, on the 6th of May, and breathed his
last in that city on the evening of the 15th, with the tranquillity of a
child. His faithful friend, the Rev. Dr. Miley, and several of the
principal clergy of the place were kneeling in prayer around his bed
when he expired.

O'Connell's character has been traced by many eloquent pens, some
friendly, some the reverse, but all are forced to admit that the powers
with which he was gifted were of the highest order. He first became
distinguished as a lawyer; soon after being called, he distanced those
of his own standing, and in time, his legal opinion was regarded as
oracular. Crown lawyers, and even judges feared him, as well they might,
for he never spared them when they were wrong. In the early part of his
career, his admiring countrymen loved to call him, "the counsellor," and
it was their highest delight to hear him cross-examine a witness.
Anecdotes of his wit, humour, and keen penetration whilst so engaged,
are very numerous, very amusing, and full of character. As a
cross-examiner he had no rival at all; lawyers of his time there were,
who might dispute the palm with him for profound knowledge of the laws
and constitution of the country, yet some how or other it came to be
admitted, openly or tacitly, that no other lawyer could see so far into
an Act of Parliament as Dan, nor drive a coach and six through it so
triumphantly.

But it was in the political arena he made his enduring fame. When he
entered public life, the Catholics of Ireland were a despised, enslaved
race: not only were they enslaved, but through custom, or by tradition,
they thought, and spoke, and acted, like slaves. Their leaders were the
few Catholic peers that Ireland possessed, and the heads of those old
Catholic families, who, by some means, managed to retain a portion of
their property. These were called