tion, and Lord Grenville was himself not satisfied that international law had not to a certain extent been violated. It at any rate suited Bonaparte's purpose to have no doubts on the subject. Hamburg had to pay a fine of four and a half million francs, and when her magistrates protested that no other choice had been left them by England, he silenced them by saying ‘Eh bien! N'aviez-vous pas la ressource des états faibles? N'étiez-vous pas les maîtres de les laisser échapper?’ Still it is by no means certain that Bonaparte was justified in demanding the extradition of Tandy and Blackwall. Harder, who has investigated the subject, decides strongly against him; and in regard to Napoleon's treatment of Hamburg says, ‘So musste Hamburg, welches seine Neutralität strenge gewahrt hatte, dem frevelhaften Uebermuthe des französischen Revolutionshäuptlings sich beugen’ (p. 72). Government, however, was fully alive to the difficulties that were likely to arise in the event of Tandy being executed. On 15 Feb., before the trial had taken place, Cornwallis suggested that, considering his age and incapacity to do further mischief, ‘the mode by which he came into our hands,’ and his long subsequent confinement, banishment might be sufficient punishment for him. The suggestion was approved by the home government. After his conviction Tandy was removed to Wicklow gaol, and there he remained when Cornwallis quitted Ireland in May 1801. His successor, Lord Hardwicke, proposed to transport him to Botany Bay; and, when a threat on the part of Tandy's son to make public the facts of the case prevented this, repeated attempts were made to save the credit of government by persuading him to consent to banishment either to America or Portugal. It is doubtful how the matter would have ended had not Bonaparte brought pressure to bear on Addington, refusing even, it is with some probability said, to sign the treaty of Amiens unless his demand for Tandy's liberation was complied with. Eventually Tandy was unconditionally set at liberty. The circumstances of his release were not generally known, and Lord Pelham, during a debate in the House of Lords on the malt tax, insinuated that it was in return for valuable information given by him to government. This statement Tandy promptly stigmatised in the public press as a lie. On landing at Bordeaux on 14 March 1802 he received a public ovation; a banquet was given in his honour, and he was raised to the rank of a general of division. Later on there was some talk of his taking part in the projected expedition to Louisiana, the real object of which was supposed to be Ireland. But, contracting a dysentery, he died, after a short but painful illness, on 24 Aug. 1803. His funeral was attended by the whole army in the district and an immense concourse of citizens.
Very different are the estimates that have been formed of his character. ‘Homer,’ says Froude, ‘had drawn Napper's portrait three thousand years before in Thersites’—‘a coward in action, a noisy fool in council.’ This is unjust. To Mr. Lecky it seems that ‘perhaps the most remarkable fact in his career is the wide and serious influence it for a short time exercised in the affairs of Europe.’ But even more remarkable is the posthumous fame he has acquired as the hero of that most plaintive and popular ballad, ‘The Wearing of the Green:’
I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand,
And he said ‘How's poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?’
'Tis the most distressful country, for it's plainly to be seen
They are hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.
Perhaps the fairest estimate is, after all, that of Sir Jonah Barrington, who knew him personally. ‘His person,’ he says, ‘was ungracious, and his language neither graceful nor impressive; but he was sincere and persevering, and, though in many instances erroneous and violent, he was considered to be honest. His private character furnished no ground to doubt the integrity of his public one; and, like many of those persons who occasionally spring up in revolutionary periods, he acquired celebrity without being able to account for it, and possessed an influence without rank and capacity’ (Historic Memoirs). An engraved portrait of him from an original by Petrie is in Madden's ‘United Irishmen,’ 2nd ser. ii. 20.
