By the end of the year the worst of the rebellion was over.  But the evil it had wrought was incalculable.  How many had perished during that terrible summer will never be known; the numbers have been variously computed at from 15,000 to 70,000.  At the outset of the rebellion—­in February 1798—­Lord Clare had made a memorable speech in the House of Lords, which has been so often misquoted that it is well here to cite the passage in full:—­

“If conciliation be a pledge of national tranquillity and contentment; if it be a spell to allay popular ferment; there is not a nation in Europe in which it has had so fair a trial as in the Kingdom of Ireland.  For a period of nearly twenty years a liberal and unvaried system of concession and conciliation has been pursued and acted on by the British Government.  Concession and conciliation have produced only a fresh stock of grievances; other discontents of Ireland have kept pace with her prosperity; for I am bold to say there is not a nation on the habitable globe which has advanced in cultivation and commerce, in agriculture and in manufactures with the same rapidity in the same period.  Her progress is now retarded, and it is a heart-breaking spectacle to every man who loves the country to see it arrested only by the perverse and factious folly of the people, stimulated and encouraged by disappointed statesmen.”

Within a few months after that speech was made, Ireland was well-nigh ruined.  All the progress in material prosperity which had taken place in the years immediately following 1782 was swept away.  The national debt, which in 1791 had stood at L2,442,890, involving an annual charge of L142,716, had risen to L26,662,640, with an annual charge of L1,395,735; the exports of woollen goods had almost ceased, and those of linen gone down by more than a third; other industries showed a decay nearly as lamentable; public bankruptcy seemed inevitable.  Though the violent outbreak of rebellion had been put down, many parts of the country were in a state of anarchy.  In the west, armed bands went about every night houghing the cattle and murdering all who dared to oppose them.  If any man prosecuted one of the offenders, he did it at the moral certainty of being murdered.  The same fate hung over every magistrate who sent a hougher to gaol, every witness who gave evidence against him, every juryman who convicted him.  In Limerick one man ventured on his own part and on that of eight others to prosecute an offender who had destroyed their property.  All nine were murdered in one night.  It was not safe to travel along the high road within six miles of Dublin.  The militia had, from their misbehaviour in the field, and their extreme licentiousness, fallen into universal contempt and abhorrence; officers of English regiments declared that it would be impossible to maintain discipline amongst their troops if they remained in such a country.  It was discovered that the rebels were forming another