Suddenly all was changed.  On February 12th, leave to bring in a Bill for the admission of Roman Catholics to Parliament was moved by Grattan.  On February 9th, a letter reached Lord Fitzwilliam from Pitt, which showed that some changes had taken place in the intentions of the Government, but no suspicion of the extent of those changes was as yet entertained.  On February 23rd, however, the Duke of Portland wrote, “by the king’s command,” authorizing Lord Fitzwilliam to resign.  The law officers and other officials who had been displaced were thereupon restored to their former places.  Grattan’s Bill was hopelessly lost, and all the elements of rebellion and disaffection at once began to seethe and ferment again.

What strikes one most in studying these proceedings is the curious folly of the whole affair!  Why was a harbinger of peace sent if only to be immediately recalled?  Why were the hopes of the Roman Catholics, of the whole country in fact, raised to the highest pitch of expectation, if only that they might be dashed to the ground?  Pitt no doubt had a very difficult part to play.  George III. was all his life vehemently opposed to the admission of Roman Catholics to Parliament.  Two of the officials whom Fitzwilliam had dismissed, Cooke, the Under Secretary of State, and Beresford, the Chief Commissioner of Customs, were men of no little influence, and Beresford, immediately upon his arrival in England had had a personal interview with the king.  That Pitt knew how critical was the situation in Ireland is certain.  He was not, however, prepared to resign office, and short of that step it was impossible to bring sufficient pressure to bear upon the king’s obstinacy.  His own preference ran strongly towards a Union of the two countries, and with this end in view, he is often accused of having been cynically indifferent as to what disasters and horrors Ireland might be destined to wade through to that consummation.  This it is difficult to conceive; nevertheless, there can be no doubt that the rising of four years later dated from this decision, and was almost as directly due to it as if the latter had been planned with that object.

From this point the stream runs darkly and steadily to the end.  Lord Fitzwilliam’s departure was regarded by Protestants and Catholics alike as a national calamity.  In Dublin shops were shut; people put on mourning, and his carriage was followed to the boat by lamenting crowds.  Grattan’s Bill was of course lost, and the exasperation of the Catholics rendered tenfold by the disappointment.  “The demon of darkness,” it was said, “could not have done more mischief had he come from hell to throw a fire-brand amongst the people.”