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"But I seek a house of entertainment to which I have been directed Felix Matier's inn at the sign of Dumouriez." "Who are you, young man, who seek that house? They say . But let me pass, let me pass. I am the secretary of William Bristow, the sovereign of Belfast, and I must see for myself, I must see for myself what these incarnate devils of dragoons are doing in our streets."
J'ai vu cette déesse altière Avec égalité répandant tous les biens, Descendre de Morat en habit de guerrière, Les mains teintes du sang des fiers Autrichiens Et de Charles le Téméraire." Felix Matier's manner of pronouncing French was somewhat painful to listen to. Voltaire would probably have failed to recognise his solitary lyric if he had heard it read by Mr. Matier.
When Barber learns that the cases are gone he'll search high and low for them, and Matier's will be just one of the places he'll look sooner or later. Are you good for a tramp, Neal, with that load on your back?" "Yes," said Neal, "I'll carry mine for miles if you like." "Then," said Hope-, "we'll just look in at Matier's as we pass, and if the coast's clear I'll leave word where we're going.
There's only one good thing in the world that's red, and that's a red cap the red cap of Liberty, Neal, and may we soon have all the red coats in the country cut up into such head-gear." It was fortunate for Neal that he found Felix Matier's conversation amusing and Felix Matier's books interesting. He had ample opportunity of enjoying them during the week which followed the dragoons' riot.
There isn't a lass in Antrim or Down but sings it." "But I know the singer too. I heard Peg Macllrea sing it once, Matier's Peg, and I'm not likely to forget her voice." "If you're sure of that, Neal, I'll let her know we're here. Anyway it can do no harm. There isn't a farm lass in the whole country would betray us to the soldiers. Wait now till she sings it again."
Felix Matier had somehow laid hands on Phelim, the blind piper, and set him playing. A hundred voices, voices of marching men, caught the tune, whistled, and sang it. Matier's own voice rang out clearest and loudest of all. It was, the "Marseillaise" they sang a not inappropriate anthem for soldiers about to fight for the liberty of man.
I do not say these things to every one, but I feel safe in saying them to you. You will not fear to die, if death is to be the end of it for us." Neal felt convinced that Hope himself would go calmly, steadfastly on if he were quite sure that the gallows waited for him. It was to Hope, more than to either of the others, that he complained about his confinement in Matier's house.
The idea of packing up ammunition for the croppies in the temporary barrack of a squadron of dragoons, and using His Majesty's straw to stuff the sacks, appealed to him as extremely comic. Hope and Neal shouldered their bundles and left the yard. "I'm afraid," said Hope, "that we can't store these in Matier's house.
But James Hope had something else in his mind besides the storming of a French Bastille and the guillotining of a French aristocracy. He believed that he was fighting: for Ireland, and the foreign tune was not to his mind. Laying his hand on Matier's shoulder he commanded silence. Then whispering to Phelim, he set a fresh tune going on the pipes.
Henry Monro rode in every day from Lisburn. Meeting after meeting was held in M'Cracken's house in Rosemary Lane, in Bigger's house in the High Street, in Felix Matier's shattered inn, or in Peggy Barclay's. Robert Simms, the general of the northern United Irishmen, resigned his position.
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