Early in 1797 it became evident to all but the most shortsighted of
politicians that a rebellion, of which none could foretell the result,
was imminent. As one shrewd observer wrote: "I look upon it that
Ireland must soon stand in respect to England in one of three
situations--united with her, the Legislatures being joined; separated
from her, and forming a republic; or as a half-subdued Province." The
supporters of law and order were naturally divided in opinion as to
the course to pursue. Some were in favour of a policy of conciliation.
Grattan induced his friend Ponsonby to bring forward another Reform
Bill, abolishing the religious test and the separate representation
of boroughs, and dividing each county into districts; and when he saw
that the motion could not be carried, delivered an impassioned speech,
declaring that he would never again attend the House of Commons, and
solemnly walked out. It was a piece of acting, too transparent to
deceive anybody. Grattan was a disappointed man--disappointed not
so much because his proposals were not adopted, as because his own
followers were slipping away from him. They had begun to realize that
he was an orator but not a statesman; his ideas were wild, fanciful
dreams. Whilst vehemently upholding the English connection he was
playing into the hands of England's opponents by reminding them that
England's difficulty was Ireland's opportunity; whilst hating the
very idea of a Union, he was making the existing system impossible
by preventing the passing of a commercial treaty; whilst passionately
supporting Protestant ascendancy, he was advocating a measure which
at that moment would have brought about the establishment either of a
Roman Catholic ascendancy or more probably of a Jacobin Republic.
He saw his supporters dwindling slowly from seventy-seven in 1783 to
thirty in 1797. Men were now alive to the fact that the country was in