Sketches of the Irish bar

C\J

;•*!•

CD

;S

CD

CO

1

i

MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE RIGHT
HONORABLE RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERI-
DAN. By Thomas Moore. Two volumes in
one. 12mo., cloth, gold and black, with steel
portrait. $1.50.

SKETCHES OF THE IRISH BAR. By the
Right Honorable Richard Lalor Shiel, M. P.,
with Memoir and Notes by R. Shelton, Mack-
enzie, D. C. L. 12mo., cloth, gold and black,
with steel portrait. $1.50.

THE LIFE OF THE RIGHT HONORABLE
JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN, late Master of the
Rolls in Ireland. By his son, William Henry
Curran, with additions and notes by R. Shelton
Mackenzie, D. C. L. 12mo., cloth, gold and
bJack, Avith steel portrait. $1.50.

PERSONAL SKETCHES OF HIS OWN
TIMES. By Sir Jonah Barrington, Judge of
the High Court of Admirality in Ireland, etc.,
etc. 12mo., cloth, gold and black, with illustra-
tions by Darley. $1.50.

'98 and '48. THE MODERN REVOLUTION-
ARY HISTORY AND LITERATURE OF IRE-
LAND. By John Savage. Fourth Edition,
with an Appendex and Index. 12mo., cloth,
gold and black. $1.50.

BITS OF BLARNEY. Edited by R. Shelton
Mackenzie, D. C. L., Editor of Shiel's Sketches
of the Irish Bar, etc. 12mo., cloth, gold and
black. $1.50.

SKETCHES

-OF-

THE IRISH BAR.

BY THE

RT. HON, RICHARD LALOR SHIEL, M, P.,

WITH MEMOIR AND NOTES

—BY—

R. SHELTON MACKENZIE, D. C. L

ZIsT

NEW YORK:
P. J. KENEDY, EXCELSIOR CATHOLIC PUBLISHING HOUSE,

5 BARCLAY STREET.
PCCCLXXXII.

MANUFACTURED BY

DONOHUB & HENNEBERRY,

CHICAGO.

CONTENTS OF YOL. I.

ME MOIR OF MR. SHEIL PAQK 5

AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION 17

AN IRISH CIRCUIT.

Going Circuit.— The South of Ireland.— Rules of Legal Travelling.—
An Approver. — Lord Avonmore. — An Irish Assize Town. — Larry Cro-
nan's Trial. — O'Connell's Success with Juries. — Trial of John Scanlan
for Murder. — Was he executed ? 19

HALL OF THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN.
O'Connell, Bushe, Lord Plunket, and H. D. Grady. — Curran. — Lord Clare.

— Serving Writs in Connaught 58

DANIEL O'CONNELL.

In his Study, in the Four Courts, at a Popular Meeting, at a Public Din-
ner.— His Personal Appearance. — Merits as a Nisi-Prius, and Ci;own
Lawyer. — Influence with Juries. — As Catholic Leader. — Duel with
D'Esterre. — On Circuit. — In Parliament 73

LORD PLUNKET.

His Origin. — Conviction of the Sheareses. — Trial of Robert Emmett. — Hi<?
Intellectual Supremacy. — Style of his Oratory. — Personal Appearance.

— In Parliament. — His Catholic Politics. — Grattan. — Raised to the
Bench. — Appointed Lord-Chancellor. — His Enforced Resignation. ... 98

CHIEF-JUSTICE BUSHE.
Descent. — The Historical Society. — An Anti-Unionist. — Solicitor-General.

— Catholic Board. — Aspect, Voice and Gesture, ag an Orator. — His
Conversation, Wit, and Eloquence. — Is made Chief- Justice 121

ATTORNEY-GENERAL SAURIN.

Huguenot Descent. — Lord Clonmel. — Business Habits. — Opposes the
Union.— As Attorney-General.—- Anti-Catholic Politics. — Loss of Office.

— Deportment and Aspect. — Skill as an Advocate. —Distaste for Letters. 150

CHIEF-BARON JOY.

Wij Tory Politics. — Sympathy with Saurin. — Bar Advancement. — Is made
Solicitor-General. — His Legal and Scientific Attainments. — Skill at
Cross-Examination. — Character as a Judge 170

4: CONTENTS.

CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.

An Unfortunate Lawyer. — Tragic Scene. — Lord Manners. — The French
Bar< — Trippier, the Parisian avocat. — The Lawyer's Progress. — " Mac-
Dougall of the Roar." — Pomposo, a Sketch from Life. — Monks of the
Screw. — Jerry Keller. — Norcott, the Renegade, and his Fate 186

CHIEF-JUSTICE LEFROY.

A Saintly Lawyer. — O'Connell on Catholic Education. — Lefroy in the
Chancery Court. — Captain Rock in Limerick. — Raised to the Bench. . 216

MR. SERGEANT GOOLD.

An Amirable Crichton. — Sows his Wild Oats. — Edmund Burke. — Goold's
Nisi-Prius Practice. — His Vanity. — Opposes the Union. — Sir Jonah
Harrington. — Goold's Election Evidence. — Is made Master in Chancery. 232

MR. NORTH, JUDGE OF THE ADMIRALTY COURT.

Brilliant University Career. — At the Bar. — Irish Eloquence. — Compara-
tive Failure in Parliament. — Neutrality in Politics. — The Bottle Riot. . 252

MR. WALLACE.

Professional Progress. — High Repute in Jury Cases. — License of the Bar.
— Catholic Meeting. — Grattan's last Public Appearance 269

WEXFORD ASSIZES.

The Leinster Circuit. — Archbishop Magee. — Bishop Elringtdn's Anti-
Necromantic Movement. — Irish Peasant-Gkls. — A Pic-Nic Excursion.
— Massacre on the Old Bridge of Wexford. — O'Connell's Triunrphal
Entry. — Chief-Justice Bushe and Judge Johnson. — Trial of Father Cai*-
roll : Monomania 287

CHIEF-JUSTICE DOHERTY.

As an Advocate, and Crown-Lawyer. — Judges Perrin and Crampton. —
Lord-Chancellor Manners' Inefficiency. — George Canning's Career. —
Doherty versus O'Connell. — Raised to the Bench. — Declines a Peerage. 311

THE DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

"The Liberty" of Dublin. — An American Marchioness. — Lord Wellesley
as Bridegroon and Viceroy. — Sir Harcourt Lees. — "Ireland's only
Duke." — Lord Edward Fitzgerald. — Lady Morgan. — The Younger
Grattan.— Curran. — " The Tenth." — An Irish Hebe. 328

CATHOLIC LEADERS AND ASSOCIATIONS.

Confederates of 1642. — Enactment of the Penal Laws. — Catholic Com- ,
mittees. — Wolfe Tone and John Keogh. — O'Connell's first Appearance.
— Denis Scully, and jEneas M'Donnell. — Lords French, Fin gal, and Kil-
leen,— Doctor Drumgoole. — George IV. in Ireland. — Catholic Associ-
ation founded. — Bishop Doyle and the Sorbonne Doctors. — Archbish-
ops Troy, Curtis, and Murray. — Bishop Kell/ 359

MEMOIR OF MR. SHEIL.

RICHARD LALOR SHEIL, author of " Sketches of the Irish
Bar," was born at Waterford, in Ireland, in the year 1793.
He died at Florence, where he was British Minister, on April
25,. 185.1, aged fifty-eight.

His father, who had been a merchant at Cadiz, retired on a
competence, which enabled him to purchase an estate in the
county of Waterford. Returning to mercantile pursuits, he
was unfortunate, and died, leaving his sons little more than
the means of perfecting a liberal education. One of these sons
was Cblonel Justin Sheil, yet surviving, who, for several years,
was British Ambassador to Persia.

Like O'Connell, who was nearly twenty years his senior,
Sheil was originally intended for the Catholic Church. At an
early age, he was sent to a Jesuit school at Kensington, near
London. He was subsequently removed to Stonyhurst, in
Lancashire, whence he went to Trinity College, Dublin, with
a competent knowledge of the classics, some acquaintance with
Italian and Spanish, and the power of speaking and writing
French, as if it were his mother-tongue. His taste for litera*
lure and his facility for rhetorical composition were early
developed. In the University he won several classical prizes,
and was acknowledged to surpass most of his fellow-students
in general acquirements. , He was a constant and favoiite
speaker in the celebrated Historical Society (the cradle of
Irish eloquence at the time); where the brilliancy and force of
his rhetoric always comman4^d admiration and applnuse

6 MEMOIH OF MR. StfEtL.

Then, as ever after, his oratory consisted of more than flowing
sentences, for lie generalized and applied facts, with lare and
remarkable felicity. He graduated before he was twenty
years old, and his college comates prophesied that his career
would be distinguished.

At this time, and for a few j^ears preceding, he floated on
the surface of Dublin society. Small in stature, slight in
figure, and eminently vivacious in manner and deportment, he
came into society, almost a boy — as Moore had done, some
fifteen years earlier — and, like Moore, he gave rise to sanguine
anticipations. It was a doubt whether he would subside into
a poet or an orator, but every one saw and said that he was
marked for distinction. There were great men in Dublin at
that time : Plunket, with unequalled powers of eloquence and
reasoning; Bushe, silvery-tongued as Belial, but full of capti-
vating amiability; Goold, imbued with a charming amour
pro2?re, which made you like, while you smiled at the man ;
O'Connell, in the full strength of youth and power, storming
his way to the head of his profession; North, the college rival
and friend of Sheil, whose maturity did not fulfil the promise
of his youth ; Wolfe, afterward Chief-Baron, with the kindest
and truest heart throbbing in a gnarly case ; and others, more
or less distinguished, then or since. At that time, too, Grattan
and Curran were the ornaments of intellectual life in Dublin ;
full of reminiscences of the Volunteers in 1782, and the Reign
of Terror in 1798.

It was natural that, amid such men, Sheil, young, ardent,
and highly-gifted, should set up a high standard of excellence,
to which to direct his own ambitious strivings; and that "Ex-
celsior" should be to him, as to all who worthily aspire, at
once a motto and a monitor.

He was barely twenty when, in 1813, he made his first
plunge into public and political life. There were divisions
among the Irish Catholics then. One section, aristocratic and
moderate — who, rather than the clanking should offend the
" ears polite" of their rulers, would willingly have wrapped
their fetters in velvet — desired to give the British government
a Veto on the appointment of the Catholic Bishops, provided

MEMOIR OF MR. SHEIL. I

tliat Emancipation were conceded. The other, democratic
and bold, denounced all compromise. Sheil attached himself
to the first, while O'Oonnell headed the latter. Both Tribunes
of the People were able and eloquent — but the man, O'Con-
nell, prevailed over the boy, Shell, and the latter quitted tho
field, for a time.

In 1814, at the age of twenty-one, Sheil was called to the
Irish Bar. His youth was against him, of course. His predi-
lections were in favor of literature, and, for several years, his
contributions to the London magazines afforded him the
chief means of subsistence. He wrote for the stage, also —
excited by the brilliant genius of Miss O'Neil, the Irish trage-
dienne— and his play of " Evadne" still retains a place in
the acted drama, by reason of its declamatory poetry and
effective situations.

On the Leinster Circuit, Mr. Sheil had to contend (strange as
it may appear), with his previous reputation as an orator — for
a good point at law is considered better, on account of its
weight with the judge, than a brilliant speech, intended to
win the verdict of a jury. At the bar, it must be confessed,
Mr. Sheil never attained the highest distinction. His legal
knowledge was limited, as respects depth and extent. In
criminal cases, his eloquence often prevailed with juries, and,
as he gradually reached seniority, he also obtained leading
briefs at Nisi-Prius. In the Four-Courts, where the metropol-
itan practice takes -place, Sheil eventually came to be consid-
ered a passable general lawyer.

In 1823 (as related by himself in the article on Catholic
Leaders), he joined with O'Connell, in establishing the Catho-
lic Association, which literally became a sort of imperium in
imperio in Ireland. In this body, both leaders spoke earnestly
and well. O'ConnelPs role was to insist on " Justice for Ire-
land," Shell's to cast contempt and ridicule upon what was
called Protestant Ascendency.

In 1825, both leaders (" Magna comitante catervd"), went to
London, as part of a deputation, at the time when, the sup-
pression of the Catholic Association becoming a government
preliminary, Emancipation — clogged with "the wings," viz,

8 MEMOIR OF MR. SHKIL.

disf'ranchisement of the forty shilling freeholders, and state-
payment of the Catholic clergy — would have been granted,
but for a speech from the Puke of York, heir-presumptive to
the throne, in which he made a solemn vow to Heaven, that he
would never accede to the concession.

At the general election of 1826, when Lord George Beres
ford's almost hereditary claims to represent Waterford county
in Parliament, were unexpectedly contested by Mr. Yilliers
Stuart, a retainer to act as counsel for Lord George, was ac-
cepted by Mr. Slieil. There was some dissatisfaction, at the
time, among the Catholics, at one of their ablest and most
trusted leaders acting for a candidate of opposite politics; but
O'Connell frankly and publicly did him the justice of saying,
that, as a lawyer, Mr. Sheil was, in a manner, bound to act for
whoever employed him. As there never was a question of the
ability with which he performed his duty on that occasion, so
was there never a belief that, in such performance, Mr. Sheil
compromised his own principles, or those of his party. The
election — thanks to the very forty-shilling freeholders, to
whose disfranchisement (as part of the price of Emancipation),
O'Connell would have consented, in 1825 — ended in the
defeat of Mr. SheiPs noble and anti-Catholic client.

The death of the Duke of York, the sworn opponent of the
Catholics, took place in 1827, and Mr. Sheil took occasion,
during and after his illness, to make some speeches, by no
means in good taste, upon the Royal sufferer. About that
time, too, he was prosecuted for too much freedom of speech
on Wolfe Tone's autobiography, on the Catholic Association
(which had risen, more powerful than ever, on the ruins of
that which was suppressed in 1825), but never tried.

In the following year (1828), the Catholic Association, in
possession of ample funds from " the Rent" which O'Connell
had established, determined to resist the re-election of Mr.
Vesey Fitzgerald, member for the County of Clare, because,
though he had always voted for Emancipation, he had taken
office in the Duke of Wellington's Anti-Catholic Government.
O'Connell was the opposing candidate, and, after a fierce and
exciting contest, he was elected by an overpowering majority

Otf MR. SHE1L.

Mr. Slieil warmly and efficiently assisted in this contest (of
which his own narrative appears in the second volume) ; and
his speech at its close, eminently practical as well as eloquent,
is entitled to rank among his happiest efforts.

In the October following, being in London, it was suggested
that Mr. Sheil should speak in advocacy of the Catholic claims,
at a great Anti-Catholic meeting of the freeholders of Kent
He was unable, from the opposition presented to himself and
other liberals, to utter more than a single sentence. Having
taken the precaution, however, to give a copy of his (intended)
harangue to the editor of " the Sun" newspaper, it was pub-
lished, the same day, as part of the proceedings, and made a
great impression on the public mind. Mr. Shell's own account
of the Penenden Heath Meeting, as it was called from the
locality where it was held, appears in the second volume.

The Roman Catholic Relief Bill, passed in 1829, was the
natural consequence of the Clare Election. It opened a new
and enlarged sphere of action to Mr. Sheil, who was now eli-
gible to sit in Parliament. At this time he was only thirty-six
years old, with a high reputation, great powers, and immense
popularity. Through the influence of Lord Anglesey, he
was elected for the borough of Milbourne Port, but he had
previously been an unsuccessful candidate for the County of
Louth in 1830, for which he was elected in 1831. He was
returned for the County of Tipperary in 1832 and in 1835,
without a contest, and, against a strong opposition, in 1837.
Accepting office in 1838, he was again unsuccessfully opposed.
From 1841 to 1850, he represented the small Irish borough of
Dun gar van.

In Parliament, the position occupied by Mr. Sheil was im-
mediate, unquestioned, and exalted. In fact, he took rank,
at once, as one of the best orators in the House of Commons.
He was far from being a ready debater — though some of his
extempore replies were quick, reasoning, and acute — but his
prepared speeches enchained attention, and won the applause
even of his antagonists. He had the disadvantage of a small
person, negligent attire, shrill voice, and vehement gesticula-
tion ; but these were all forgotten when he spoke, and his sin-

1*

10 MEMOIR OF MR.

gularly peculiar manner gave the appearance of impulse even
to his most elaborated compositions. Words can not briefly
describe the character of Shell's rhetoric : it was aptly said, in
the style of his own metaphors, "he thinks lightning."

Mr. Sheil was personally much liked by all parties in the
Legislature. In 1834, when he was charged with having
secretly and treacherously urged the Minister to carry an
Irish Coercion Bill, which the liberal members were publiclv
opposing, it is doubtful whether his own party, or his oppo-
nents, were most rejoiced at his full acquittal.

After his entrance into parliamentary life, his bar-practice
in Ireland was almost wholly neglected. In 1844, however*
although he had himself avoided participation in the Repeal*
excitement, he reappeared in the Four Courts, at Dublin, at the
State Trials, as advocate for John O'Connell, and delivered
a most eloquent speech in his defence, the delivery of which
occupied six hours. This closed his professional career.

From his entrance into Parliament, he rather sided with the
Whig than the Irish party. In time he had his reward —
having been successively a Commissioner of Greenwich Hospi-
tal, Vice-President of the Board of Trade, Judge-Advocate
General, and Master of the Mint, besides being a Queen's
Counsel and Privy Counsellor. Of late years, his voice was
seldom heard in the House. He seemed to think that his
work was ended with Emancipation and the abolition of
Tithes. He had declined into a mere placeman — realizing
Moore's sarcasm : —

" As bees on flowers alighting, cease their hum,
So, settling upon places, Whigs grow dumb."

Curiously enough, Mr. Shell's appointment under the Whigs,
in 1846, to the office of Master of the Mint, broke up the Irish
party which O'Connell long had led. On acceptance of office,
it was requisite that he should go back to his constituents
of Dungarvan, as a candidate for re-election. A strong and
rising section of the Repealers urged that, as in 1828 with
Vesey Fitzgerald, Mr. Sheil should be opposed, as member of
a Government who would not grant "justice to Ireland," save
on the strongest pressure from without. O'Connell would

MEMOIR OF MR. sriEiL. 11

nut consent tlms to oppose Slieil, having better hopes of the
Whigs than his more youthful and eager associates. O'Con-
nell allowed Sheil to be re-elected, without opposition, on the
ground of his own reluctance to embarrass the Government.
Certain resolutions, affirming this temporizing policy, were
proposed by John O'Connell, and carried by a large majority
in the Repeal Association. But the minority — more power-
ful in virtues, boldness, and talent, than in numbers — seceded
from the Association, and formed what was called the "Young
Ireland" party, resolved to achieve the independence of their
country, even if it were to be battled for with arms as well
as words. Most distinguished in this party were O'Brien,
Mitchel, Meagher, and Ma'rtin, who soon after founded " The
Irish Confederation," one principle of which was opposition
to office seeking on the part of persons professing nationality.
Soon after, O'Connell died. The Revolutions of 1848 came
next, and that which was attempted in Ireland, with an unsur-
passed purity and intensity of purpose, failed like all the rest.

In November, 1850, when Lord John Russell was attacking
the Catholic religion, as consisting of " the mummeries of
superstition," and was preparing to bring in his Ecclesiastical
Titles Bill, the Embassy to Florence was offered to, and ac-
cepted by, Mr. Sheil, whose health was declining, and whose
religious feelings must have been opposed, had he remained in
England, to Lord John Russell's anti-Catholic measures.

To Florence, therefore, he proceeded, full of hope that the
fine climate would renew his failing health, and looking on liis
appointment as a dignified close to his public career. The
suicide of Mr. Power, son of Mr. Shell's second wife (his first
had been Miss O'Hallaran, niece of Sir William M'Mahon,
Master of the Rolls in Ireland), gave him such a shock as to
induce an attack of gout in the stomach, of which he died.
His remains were conveyed to Ireland in a British ship-of-
war, and were interred at Long Orchard, four miles from
Templemore, in the County of Tipperary.

Fain would I here have done more than thus briefly and rap-
idly record the leading events in Mr. -Shell's public life, but my
sjiace is necessarily limited. Perhaps I may have the oppor-

2 MEMOIR OF Mfc. StITilL.

tunity of doing Lim fuller justice in a future volume, in winch
I may attempt to give pen-portraits of politicians and authors,
artists and polemics, lawyers and orators, whom I have known
in Europe.

The publication of "Sketches of the Irish Bar" was com-
menced in 1822, in The New Monthly Magazine, a London
periodical then conducted by Thomas Campbell, the poet.
The idea originated with William Henry Ourran, son and
biographer of the great Irish orator and patriot, but the
execution was Shell's.

The first sketch, which appeared in August, 1822 (and per-
haps one of the ablest, being analytic as well as rhetorical),
was that of Plunket. The far-famed paper on O'Connell,
which is the best known of the series (having been repeatedly
reprinted in Europe and America, and translated into French,
German, Italian, and Spanish), did not appear until July, 1823.
It immediately attracted attention and applause ; and, from
that time, the " Sketches of the Irish Bar" were eagerly
looked for in The New Monthly, the reputation of which they
mainly contributed to sustain. The last sketch was that of
Leslie Foster, published in February and March, 1829.

A schoolboy, when' the " Sketches" were commenced, (and,
albeit a Protestant, entertaining a strong general impression
that my coimtrymen, the Irish Catholics, were very harshly
treated,) I eagerly perused such of them as were copied into
.an excellent journal, now no more, called The Cork Mercantile
Chronicle. As I grew older, I could better appreciate their
keen satire, their sharp antithesis, their close observation, their
personal gossip, their liberal spirit, and their generous senti-
ment. At last, it was my own hap to become a member of the
press, at an age when (I now feel) I should rather have been
improving my own mind, than presumptuously attempting to
instruct others.

In 1826, an enterprising bookseller in Cork resolved to
make the experiment of trying whether Ireland, which eagerly
received her literature from London and Edinburgh, could
support a periodical of her own. He engaged the services of

MEMOIR OF MR. SHEIL. 13

some distinguished literati in the South of Ireland, and had no
lack of younger contributors willing to write for "the honor
and glory" of being in print. Among these were several who
have since been distinguished. There was Callanan, author
of the exquisite lyric called " Gougane Barra," whose rhythm
flows along like the melodious rippling of a gently-murmuring
rivulet ; there was O'Meagher, author of a poem called " Zed-
echias," and now the efficient and able Paris correspondent of
the London Times; there was O'Leary, who wrote the clianson
a boire " Whiskey, drink divine !" so redolent of Innishowen ;
there was John Windele, now a zealous and rational antiqua-
rian ; there was^the late John Augustus Shea, already distin-
guished among his fellows for poetic genius, flashing wit,
classic eloquence, and social companionship; and, lingering
far behind, as became the youngest and humblest, the writer
of this notice completed the array of volunteer contributors.

It struck all of us that the periodical would at once achieve
success, if Mr. Sheil could be induced to become a contributor.
Mr. Bolster, the publisher, obtained an interview, and asked
whether Mr. Sheil could write for him, and was gratified with
an affirmative reply. As the conversation went on, Mr. Sheil
mentioned several subjects on which he was Avilling to write.
The publisher was charmed with the interest which the future
contributor appeared to take in the periodical. At last came
the business question : "How much per sheet do you mean to
pay ?" The somewhat hesitating reply was, that no payment
was contemplated at first, but that, whenever any profits ac-
crued, he might depend on being remunerated. Mr. Sheil
shook his head and said, " I am afraid your terms will not suit
me. However, as you have done me the compliment of wish-
ing me to write for you, I must give you something. Instead
of calling your periodical 'Bolster's Magazine of Ireland,'
accept a more appropriate name for it, from me. Considering
the place whence it is to issue, and the terms which you offer,
let me suggest that you call it ' The CORK-SCREW.' "

My own personal acquaintance with Mr. Sheil was made 1:1
October, 1828, in London, on the evening of the Penenden
Heath Meeting. His conversation — full of wit and humor,

14 MEMOIR OF MB. SHEIL.

with graver alternations of serious talk — was the charm of
that gay and delightful night.

In 1844, I applied to Mr. Sheil for permission to republish
some of the " Sketches/' and his prompt reply (of which a fac
simile is given in the second volume) gave the promise of as-
sisting me in making the selection. I was then at Oxford, and
was unable to call upon him in London until the next year. He
had forgotten my name, in the lapse between 1828 and 1845.
but instantly recollected my person and my voice. Entering
heartily into my views, he gave me whatever permission was
in his power, as writer, to republish the " Sketches," wholly or
in part, but doubted whether the copyright did not belong to
Mr. Colburn, the proprietor of The New Monthly Magazine,
for which he had written them. He gave me a list of the
whole series, and further drew my attention to two other
" Sketches," which had appeared in the first volume of Camp-
bell's Metropolitan Magazine in 1831. These (on Lord-Chan-
cellor Brougham and the State of Parties in Dublin), conclude
the second volume, and, in their personal details, are not in-
ferior in interest to any which precede them.

Encouraged by the frank kindness with which I was met, I
suggested the republication of all the " Sketches," and stated
my idea of the manner in which they should be edited. Mr.
Sheil stated his inability — from pressure of other occupations,
and a distaste of the literary labor it would impose — to anno-
tate, or even to revise the articles ; but strongly urged me to
act as Editor — a duty for which, he was pleased to say, I
was qualified by my knowledge of politics and parties in Ire-
land, and my acquaintance with most of the persons of whom
he had made mention. Thus encouraged, I accepted the
charge, and had repeated conferences on the subject, during the
following twelve months ; but, in the summer of 1846, Mr. Sheil
resumed office as Master of the Mint, which greatly engrossed
his time, and my own was so much occupied, to the exclusion
of literary labor, that I was unable then to proceed with my
task, which I did not resume until recently.

A generation has passed away since the first of these
" Sketches" appeared, and, had I edited this work in England

MEMOIR OF MR. SHEIL. 15

I must have freely annotated it, to make its allusions to per-
sons and tilings perfectly intelligible to the present race of
readers. Doing it in America, I felt that this principle must
be carried out yet more fully. Therefore, in the copious notes
and illustrations which I have written (so copious, indeed, that
my own portion in these volumes is more than two fifths of the
whole),* I have endeavored to make the reader as well ac-
quainted with every part of the subject, as I am myself. That
I have been laborious I know, that I am accurate in state-
ments and dates I believe. My own political opinions being
liberal, their tone has breathed itself, no doubt, into what I
have written, but I trust that its general impartiality will be
acknowledged. Wherever my own personal knowledge could
avail, I have freely used it. All of the subjects of the
"Sketches" I have seen and heard hi public; with many of
them I was more or less acquainted.

The " Sketches" are of a three-fold character. Some are
individual, as relating to public men. Some show the practice
of the Irish Bar, as exhibited in reports of interesting criminal
cases. The third class consists of narratives of public events
connected with the cause of civil and religious liberty in
Ireland. Thus, there are graphic descriptions of O'Connell,
Plunket, and their contemporaries. There are the thrilling
narratives of Scanlan's trial at Limerick (on which Gerald
Griffin founded his tragic story of "The Collegians") and the
trials of Father Carrol, at Wexford ; of the murderers of Dan-
iel Mara, at Clonmel ; and of Gorman, for " the burning of the
Sheas." There are also Mr. Shell's own recollections of the
formation of the Catholic Association in 1823 ; of the visit of
the Catholic Deputation to London in 1825 ; of the great Clare
Election, and the Penenden Heath Meeting in 1828; and of
Lord Brougham's reception, as Chancellor, in 3831. Nor,
amid much that is historical, grave, and sometimes, even tragic,
are lighter scenes deficient, such as the account of the Tabinet
Ball, the Confessions of a Junior Barrister, the description of

* Mr. Shell's own notes to these " Sketches" are few — aboM six or eight in
the two volumes. All the rest of the annotations are my own and initialed
thus: — M.

16 MEMOIR OF MR. STIKIl,.

an imaginary Testimonial to Lord Manners, and the Sketch
of the judicial mime, Lord Norbury. In reality, this work,
with its strong contrasts of light and shade, is a sort of personal
history of Irish politics and politicians (for the Bar did not
affect neutrality), during the half century following the parch-
ment Union between Ireland and Great Britain.

The portrait of Mr. Sheil in this volume, is a fac-simile
of an original sketch in my possession, made in London, in
1825, by Mr. S. Catterson Smith, then a young Irish artist of
considerable promise, and now of such leading eminence that
he was selected to paint the portrait of Lord Clarendon, late
Viceroy of Ireland, to be placed in Dujlin Castle. The like-
ness of Mr. SheiL it must be noted, represents him as he was
at the age of thirty-two.

Here, dismissing these volumes from my hand, I conclude
my labors. Here are rescued from the perishable periodicals in
which they mouldered, the admirable productions of a man,
who, while our language lasts, will be spoken of as one of the
most brilliant orators that Ireland, affluent in eloquence, ever
had cause to be proud of — productions emanating from the
freshness of his purpurca juventus, before his patriotism had
been rendered cold or doubtful, by his acceptance of place.
They stand —

" A deathless part of him who died too soon."

My own part, humble as it is, claims to be honest in pur-
pose, and laboriously faithful in execution. I believe that the
" Sketches of the Irish Bar," now first collected, will be found
to possess abiding interest, because they emanate from a mas-
ter-mind, and are written with fidelity and spirit. I have
arranged them in an order different from that in which they
originally appeared (on Mr. Shell's own suggestion, that there
should be contrast in the grouping), but I present them, with-
out mutilation or change, as they were first given to the public

K. SHELTON MACKENZIE.

AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION.

WHEN I first visited Dublin (it was about, three years ago),
I\was a frequent attendant at the Courts of Justice, or, as they
are more familiarly styled, the "Four Courts." The printed
speeches of Curran had just fallen into my hands; and, not-
withstanding their numerous and manifest defects, whether of
the reporter or the speaker, the general effect of the perusal
was to impress me with a very favorable opinion of Irish foren-
sic eloquence. Although, as an Englishman,* I might not
participate in the political fervor which forms one of their chief
recommendations to his admirers in Ireland, or, in my severer
judgment, approve of a general style that differed so essen-
tially from the models of British taste, still there was a fresh-
ness and vitality pervading the whole — glowing imagery-
abounding phraseology — trains of argument and illustration
at once vigorous and original — and incessant home pushes at
the human heart, of which the attractions were entirely inde-
pendent of local or party associations.

Under these impressions, and the opportunity being now
afforded me, I made it a kind of literary object to ascertain
how far the peculiarities that struck me belonged to the man

* Mr. SHEIL commenced these Sketches in 1822, with the idea of their being
taken as the production of an impartial Englishman, and he continued to wea-
thc mask long after common report had assigned his writings to their true pa-
ternity. In his account of the Clare Election, which took place in 1828, and
rendered Catholic Emancipation inevitable, Mr. Sheil frankly admitted the au«
jiiorship. — M.

18

or the country. Witli this view, I resorted almost daily for
the space of two terms to the Four Courts, where I studied
with some industry the manner and intellectual character of
some of the most eminent pleaders. The result was, a little
collection of forensic sketches, accurate enough, it struck me,
as far as they went ; but on the whole so incomplete, that I
had no design of offering them to the public : they remained
almost forgotten in my commonplace-book, until his Majesty's
late visit to Ireland,* when I was persuaded by a friend to
follow in the royal train. All that I saw and thought upon
that occasion is beside my present purpose.

I return to my sketches : My friend and I remained in Ire-
land till the month of December. We made an excursion to
the lakes of Killarney and to the Giants' Causeway ; and,
during our tour, the Circuits being fortunately out, I was thus
furnished with the means of correcting or confirming many ob-
servations upon some of the most prominent subjects of my
sketches. The same opportunity was afforded me on my re-
turn to Dublin, where the Courts were sitting during the last
month of our stay. I now, for the first time, and principally
from deference to my companion's opinion that the. subject
would be interesting, resolved at a leisure hour to arrange my
scattered memoranda into a form that might meet the public
eye. I may not be enabled to execute my plan to its entire
extent. In the event of my fulfilling my purpose, I must
pr.emise, that I do not profess to include every member of the
Irish bar who has risen to eminence in his profession: I pro-
pose to speak only of those whom I heard sufficiently often to
catch the peculiarities of their mind and manner; and, with
regard to these, I beg to disclaim all pretensions to adjust their
comparative merits and professional importance. Were it pos-
sible, I should introduce their names in the form of a Round
Robin, where none could be said to enjoy precedence.

* George IV. visited Ireland in August, 1821, and had no cause to complain
of his reception. The Irish appeared drunk with joy, and rattled their chaing
a;j if they were proud of them. — M.

SKETCHES OF THE IRISH BAR,

AN IRISH CIRCUIT.

IP any one, tired with the monotonous regularity of a more
civilized existence, should desire to plunge at once into another
scene, and take refuge from ennui in that stirring complexity
of feeling produced by a series of images, solemn, pathetic, lu-
dicrous, and loathsome, each crossing each in rapid and endless
succession, I would recommend to him to attend one of the
periodical progresses of Irish law through the interior of that
anomalous country ; and more particularly through one of the
southern districts, which, out of -deference to Captain Rock, I
have selected as the scene of the present sketch.

Going circuit in Ireland, though of great importance to the
health of the bar — they would die of stagnation else — is at
the outset but a dreary piece of business.* When the time ap-

* In Great Britain and Ireland, the Judges go " on circuit" twice a year, fin
the trial of criminal cases and of civil or Nisi Prius suits. Each circuit con-
sists of a certain number of counties, and most of the barristers derive a consid-
erable portion of their incomes from their labors, as advocates, on the circuit
A barrister may change his circuit once — but even this is rare — and the ordi
nary practice is, having once commenced in one district (usually including the
locality of his own relatives and friends), always to continue in it. When a
lawyer is called out of his own to plead for plaintiff or defendant in another
circuit, it is gaid that he is " engaged specially," and receives a large fee or
honorarium accordingly. The largest " special" fee ever received in Englan .»
\yusi by pne of the present e^-Chancellors, Lord Truro (then Sir Thomas Wildelk

20 AM IRISH CIRCUIT.

proaclies, one can generally perceive, by the faces in the Hall,*
that it is felt as such. There are, of course, exceptions. A
prosperous man, certain of a rich harvest of record-briefs, a
crown prosecutor with the prospect of a " bumper" in every
jail, a sanguine junior confiding in the promise of the defence,
in a heavy murder case or two to bring him forward — the
spirits of these may be as brisk, and their eyes shine as bright
as ever ; but, for the most part, the presentiment of useless ex-
pense, and discomfort in a thousand forms, predominates.X'The
travelling arrangements are made with a heavy heart; the
accustomed number of law-books, each carefully lapped up in
its circuit-binding, and never perhaps to be opened till its re-
turn, are transferred with a sigh from the shelf to the portman-
teau ; and the morning of departure from the metropolis, no
matter how gay the sunshine or refreshing the breeze, is to
many — to more than will dare confess it — the most melancholy
of the year.

It certainly requires some stoutness of sensibility to face the
south of Ireland. I have often heard the metropolis described
as an effort of Irish ostentation. The truth of this bursts upon
you at every step as you advance into the interior. With the
exception of the roads, the best perhaps in Europe, the gen-
eral aspect of the country proclaims that civilization and hap-
piness are sadly in arrear. Here and there the eye may find
a momentary relief in the commodious mansion and tasteful
demesne of some opulent proprietor; but the rest of the scene
is dismal and dispiriting. To those accustomed to English
objects, the most fertile tracts look bare and barren. It is the
country, but it has nothing rural about it : no luxuriant hedge-
rows, no shaded pathways, no cottages announcing by the

tvho had nine thousand guineas, or $46,800, for going out of his circuit to
plead in some great property cause. His brief (so called, like -lucns a non tu-
cendo, because of the prolixity of such documents) extended to over two thou-
sand pages. From one to five hundred pounds sterling is the usual amount of
a "special" fee. — A record-brief means a brief in a civil suit, and takes* its
name from the action being entered or placed on record in the minutes of the
Court, before it can be tried. — M.

* Of " the Four Courts," the Westminster hall of Dublin, and the subje jt of
a g»4b»eOjUeut sketch, — M

• '

TRAVELLING AS If WAS; 2l

neatness without, that cleanliness and cohifort are to be found
within ; but one undiversified continuity of cheerless stone-
fences and roadside hovels, with their typhus-beds piled up iti
front, and volumes of murky smoke forth issuing from the inte-
rior, where men and women, pigs* and children, are enjoying
the blessings of our glorious constitution.

I travelled in a public conveyance. We were four inside —
myself, a barrister, an attorney,! and a middle-aged, low-spir-
ited Connaught gentleman, whom at first, from his despondency,
I took to be a recent insolvent, but he turned out to be only
the defendant in an impending ejectment-case, which had al-
ready been three times decided in his favor. The roof of the
coach was covered (besides other luggage) with attorneys'
clerks, policemen, witnesses, reporters, &c., &c., all more or
less put in motion by the periodical transfer of litigation from
town to country. Before our first breakfast was concluded, I
had known the names and destination of almost all of them,
and from themselves ; for it is a trait of Irish character to be i
on singularly confidential terms with the public. This is some-
times troublesome, for they expect a return in kind; but it is
often amusing, and anything is better than the deadly tacitur-
nity of an English traveller. How often have I been whisked

* An Irish peasant being asked why he permitted his pig to take up its quar-
ters with his family, made an answer abounding with satirical naivete, " Why
not? Doesn't the place afford every convenience that a pig can require ?"

t In England, during the seventy or eighty years immediately antecedent to
railwayism, and formerly in Ireland, the etiquette of the bar prohibited a bar-
rister from sharing a post-chaise with an attorney. The principle involved was
that he who had briefs to receive should not be on familiar terms with him who
had them to give — such being the relative positions of the respective "limbs
of the law" in question. When a barrister was intimate with an attorney, he
became liable to the imputation of playing at hugger-mugger, or cherishing him
for interested purposes. At one time it was considered scarcely correct for a
barrister to dine with an attorney — altogether a practitioner of a lower but
very money-making class. All this has passed away. /As for travelling, the
rule which allowed -barrister and attorney to go together in a mail or slage_
coach, because that was not necessarily tete-A-tete, as necessarily would be in a
post-chaise which earned only two persons, extends to railway-carriages, in
which all members of the profession, including the Judges themselves, are 11*
avoidably mingled. — M.

cmctfrf.

along for miles and hundreds of miles with one of the lattei-
species, without a single interchange of thought to enliven the
way, with no return to any overture of sociality but defensive
hems and predetermined monosyllables !

There is no stout-gentleman-like mystery upon the Irish
roads. The well-dressed young man, for example, who sits
beside you at the public breakfast-table, after troubling you
for the sugar-bowl, and observing that the eggs are musty, will
proceed, without further introduction, to tell you, "how his
father, a magistrate of the county, lives within three miles and
a half of the Cove of Cork,* and what fine shooting there is upon
his father's estate, and what a fine double-barrelled gun he (the
son) has, and how lie has been up to Dublin to attend his col-
lege examinations, and how he is now on his way down again
to be ready for the grouse" — to the dapper, pimpled-faced
personage at the other side of the table, who, while his third
cup of tea is pouring out, reveals pro lono publico that he fills

a confidential office in the bank of Messrs. and Co., and

that his establishment has no less than five prosecutions for

forgery at the assizes, and that he is going down to prove

the forgery in them all, et sic de ceteris.

Upon the present occasion, however, there was one excep-
tion. Among tke outside passengers there were two that sat
and breakfasted apart (though there was no want of space at
the public table) in a recess, or rather a kind of inner room.
One of them, a robust, decent-looking man, if alone, would
have excited no particular observation; but the appearance
and deportment of his companion, and a strange sort of impres-
sion which I could perceive that his presence occasioned, ar-
rested my attention. He was about thirty years of age ; had a
long, sunken, sallow visage, with vulgar features ; coarse,
bushy, neglected black hair; shaggy, overhanging brows ; and
a dark, deep-seated, sulky, ferocious eye. But though his as-

* The Cove of Cork, one of the finest harbors in the British dominions, haa

ceased to be cafted by that name. A few years ago, on the first visit of Queen

. Victoria to the south of- Ireland, the authorities of Cork, in the toadying and

» sycophantic spirit which often disgraces municipalities as well as individuals,

petitioned the Crown that Cove si ould be called Queen VTown. To thi*

prayer the Queen "was graciously peased to consent." — M.

A LfeGAL CAVALCAbE. 2?

fury ago, it was otherwise. Then the major part of the bar
of each circuit travelled on horseback, and for safety and
pleasure kept together on the road. The holsters in front of
the saddles — the outside-coat strapped in a roll behind — the
dragoon-like regularity of pace at which they advanced, gave
the party a certain militant appearance. An equal number of
servants followed, mounted like their masters, and watchful
of the saddle-bags, containing the circuit wardrobe, and circuit
library that dangled from their horses' flanks. A posse of
pedestrian suttlers bearing wine and groceries, and such other
luxuries as might not be found upon the road, brought up the
rear. Thus the legal caravan pushed along; and a survivor
of that period assures me that it was a goodly sight ; and great
was the deference and admiration with which they were
honored at every stage ; and when they approached the assize
town, the gentlemen of the grand-jury were wont to come out
in a body to bid them welcome. And when they met, the
greetings, and congratulations, and friendly reciprocities, were
conducted on both sides in a tone of cordial vociferation that
is now extinct.

For the counsellor of that day was no formalist ; neither had
too much learning attenuated his frame, or prematurely quench-
ed his animal spirits ; but he was portly and vigorous, and
laughed in a hearty roar, and loved to feel good claret dis-
porting through his veins, and would any day prefer a fox-
chase to a special retainer; and all this in no way detracted
from his professional repute, seeing that all his competitors
were even as he was, and that juries in those times were more
gullible than now, and judges less learned an-d inflexible, and
technicalities less regarded or understood, and motions in
arrest of judgment seldom thought of — the conscience of our

ity is sent away, on leave of absence, and the bar-mess becomes the focus of
wit and merriment — particularly when, in a sort of mock-court, they proceed
to the trial of pseudo-offcn Jcrs. Once, at Lancaster, where the Northern Cir-
cuit mess was honored with the company of Lord Brougham, long one of their
most distinguished members, who had become Lord Chance4h>v of England,
they arraigned him — for desertion1. He pleaded his own cause, with such
infinite wit, that the jury brought in a verdict of " Guilty" against the accuaei
as well as the accused, fining each of them a dozen of claret. — M.

ZS AN IRISH CIRCUIT.

counsellor being ever at ease when he felt that his client wa9
going to be hanged upon the plain and obvious principles of
common sense and natural justice, so that circuit and circuit-
business was a recreation to him; and each day through the
assizes he was feasted and honored by the oldest families of
the county, and he had ever the place of dignity beside the
host; and his flashes of merriment (for the best things said in
those days Avere said by counsellors) set the table in a roar,
and he could sing, and would sing a jovial song too : and if
asked, he Avould discourse gravely and pithily of public affairs,
being deeply versed in state-concerns, and, peradventure, a
member of the Commons' house of parliament; and when he
spoke, he spoke boldly, and as one not fearing interruption or
dissent — and what he said was received and treasured up by
his admiring audience, as oracular revelations of the fate of
kingdoms till the next assizes.*

* It may be necessary to state that, " across the water," the barrister or
counsellor is of a rank superior to the attoi'ney (without whom he could not
earn a shilling), and has a different line of business. To become a banister it
is" only necessary for a gentleman to enter his name on the books of one of the
Inns of Court ; to pay entrance-money and fees, amounting to about one hundred
and twenty pounds sterling ; to eat twelve law-dinners in the year, during four
years ; to appear before the Benchers (eminent hamsters of long standing) and
read a few lines of a thesis on some point of law, which document can be pur-
chased for a few shillings ; and, having passed through this ordeal, facetiously
termed " an examination," then to be admitted to the rank of an utter or outer
barrister (because none but Queen's Counsel, Sergeants-at-Law, or barristers
with patents of precedency, can sit within the bar in the Law Courts), and be
" called to the bar," by having his name shouted out, at dinner, calling him
from the students' to the upper or barristers' table. It will be seen, from this,
that as the barrister receives no instruction during his four years of pupilage, it
entirely rests with himself whether and in what manner he shall obtain a knowl-
edge of the law. This is to be done by study, by attendance at the chambers
of some eminent pleader (to whom he usually pays one hundred pounds sterling),
and by noticing the practice of the law during his attendance in the courts.
On the other hand, you must be regularly apprenticed to an attorney for five
years, and, when your time is served, pass through a very strict examination
in law and its practice before you are admitted as an attorney. In no case ran
a client do business, directly, with the barrister, who can only be approached,
professionally, by the attorney. It is precisely as if a man being ill, the physi-
cian should refuse to prescribe for him, unless his symptoms and ailments were
detailed, at second-hand, by the apothecary. The attorney literally acts as

THE COUNSELLOR'S SOCIAL STATUS. 29

Thus far my informant — himself a remnant of this by-gone
race, and as such contrasting, not without a sigh, the modern
degeneracy of slinking into a circuit-town in a corner of the
Dublin mail, with the pomp. and circumstance that marked the
coming of the legal tourist in the olden time. Still the circuit-
going barrister of the present day, though no longer so promi-
nent an object of popular observance, is by no means considered
as an ordinary person. The very title of Counsellor continues
to maintain its major influence over the imaginations of the
populace. When he comes to be known among them, land-
lords, waiters, guards, and coachmen, bow to him as low, and
are as alert in service, as if he were a permanent grand-jury-
man, or chief-magistrate of police. At an assizes ball (if he be
still in his juniority) the country -belles receive him with their
choicest smirks, while the most influential country-gentlemen
(excepting those who have received a college education, or who
have been to Cheltenham) are cautious and complimentary in
their converse with one Avho can take either side of any ques
tion extempore, divide it, by merely crossing his fingers, into
three distinct points of view, and bring half a dozen knock-
down arguments to bear upon each.

jackall to the barrister ; but an attorney in good practice, who has many law-
suits to carry on, has it in his power to help a clever young barrister, by em-
ploying him as junior counsel in such suits — there ordinarily being at least two
barristers on each side in every civil or Nisi Prius trial. The attorney " gets
up the case" — prepares the brief or statement of facts and evidence, with refer-
ences to points of law, and previous decisions of the Courts also — fixes the
amount of fees to counsel, and pays the money on delivery of the brief; there
being the anomaly that, while the barrister's fee is not recoverable by law, the
attorney's bills of costs are, and their amount is fixed by rules of Court, and
taxed by proper officers. There is no instance on record of a barrister's ever
having become an attorney. Several of the best men at the bar (among whom
Lord Truro now stands) have commenced as attorneys. To effect this change
the man must cease to be an attorney, by having his name struck off the Court-
roll, before he can enter as a student at one of the Inns of Court, where, after
four years' delay, as above mentioned, he may be called to the bar. Should it
be discovered that a barrister has professionally acted without being " in-
structed" by an attorney, or that he has an understanding to the effect of shar-
ing profits with an attorney, he would be disbarred — that is, turned out of flip
profession. — JVJ,

30 AN IRISH CIRCUIT.

The most striking scenes upon an Irish circuit are to be
found in the criminal courts. The general aspect of the in-
terior, and the forms of proceeding, have nothing peculiar;
but scarcely a case occurs that does not elicit some vivid
exhibition of national character, or afford matter of serious
reflection upon the moral and political condition of the country.
I would add, that the very absence of such reflection on the
part of the spectators, is itself an observable phenomenon: for
instance, the first morning that I entered the Crown Court at

, I perceived the witness-table covered by a group of

mountain-peasantry, who turned out to be three generations
of one family, grandfather, father, and three or four athletic
sons. Their appearance, though decent, was wild and pictur-
esque. They were all habited in a complete suite of coarse
blue frieze. The eldest of the party sustained himself upon a
long oaken staff, which gave to him a certain pastoral air,
while each of the others, down to the youngest, a fine, fierce,
black-haired, savage-eyed lad of seventeen, was armed with a
formidable club of the same favorite timber. The old man
resting upon his staff, and addressing the interpreter, was
meekly and deliberately explaining, in the Irish language, for
the information of the court, the object of his application. It
needed no interpreter to tell me that he was recounting a tale
of violence and wrong. The general purport, as he proceeded,
was intelligibly translated in the kindling looks, the vehement
gesticulation — and, where any circumstance was omitted or
understated — the impassioned and simultaneous corrections
of the group behind him. Though he more than once turned
round to rebuke their impetuosity, it was easy to perceive that
his own tranquillity of manner was the result of effort ; but the
others, and least of all the younger portion of the party, could
not submit to restrain their emotions. The present experi-
ment of appealing to the laws was evidently new to them, and
unpalatable. As they cast their quick suspicious glances
round them, and angrily gave their cudgels a spasmodic clench,
they looked less like suitors in a court of justice, than as an
armed deputation from a barbarous tribe, reluctantly appearing
Jn a civilized enemy's camp with proposals for a cessation of

OCCUPANTS OF THE DOCK. 31

hostilities. And there was some such sacrifice of warlike in
stincts in the present instance. The party, for once listening
to pacific counsel, had come clown from their hills to seek com-
pensation from the county for the loss of their house and stock,
which had been maliciously burned down — they suspected,
but had no proof — by " their old enemies the O'Sullivans."
Yet the details of their case, embracing midnight conflagration,
imminent risk of life, destruction of property, produced, so
familiar are such outrages, not the slightest sensation in a
crowded court. Some necessary forms being gone through,
they were dismissed, with directions to appear before the grand
jury ; and I do not forget that, as they were retiring, the
youngest of the party uttered a vehement exclamation, in his
native tongue, importing — "That if the grand-jury refused
them justice, every farthing of their loss should (come of it
what would) be punctually paid down to them in the blood of
the O'Sullivans."

^*L\\Z dock of an Irish county-court is quite a study. From
the character of the crimes to be tried, as appearing on the
calendar, I expected to find there a collection of the most
villanous faces in the community : it was the very reverse.
I would even say that, as a general rule, the weightier the
charge, the better the physiognomy, and more prepossessing
the appearance of the accused. An ignoble misdemeanant, or
sneaking petty-larcenist, may look his offence pretty accu-
rately ; but let the charge amount to a good transportable or
capital felony, and ten to one but the prisoner will exhibit a
set of features from which a committee of craniologists would
never infer a propensity to crime. In fact, an Irish dock,
especially after a brisk insurrectionary winter, affords some of
the choicest samples of the peasantry of the country — fine,
hardy, healthy, muscular looking beings, with rather a dash of
riot about the eye, perhaps, but with honest, open, manly coun-
tenances, and sustaining themselves with native courage amid
the dangers that beset them; and many of them are in fact
either as guiltless as they appear, or their crimes have been
committed under circumstances of excitation, which, in their
eves at least, excuse the enormity. With regard to the

32 AN IRISH CIRCUIT.

former, there are one or two national peculiarities, and not of
a very creditable kind, which account for their numbers.

The lower orders of the Irish, when their passions are once
up on the right side, are proverbially brave, disinterested, and
faithful ; but reverse the object, give them a personal enemy
to circumvent, or an animosity of their faction to gratify,
and all the romantic generosity of their character vanishes
As partisans, they have no more idea of " fair play," than
a belligerent Indian of North America. In the prosecution
of their interminable feuds, if they undertake to redress
themselves, armed members will beset a single defenceless
foe, and crush him without remorse; and in the same spirit
of reckless vengeance, when they appeal to the law, they do
not hesitate to include in one sweeping accusation, every friend
or relative of the alleged offender, whose evidence might be
of any avail upon his defence ; and hence, for the real or
imputed crime of one, whole families, men and women, and
sometimes even children, are committed to prison, and made
to pass through the ordeal of a public trial. Another prolific
source of tliesje-^Jiakin^juHninittals is a practice, pretty ancient
in its origin, but latterly very much on the increase, of at
tempting to succeed on a question of civil right by the aid of a
criminal prosecution. Thus the legality of a distress for rent
will come on to be tried for the first time under the form of a
charge for cow-stealing, or the regularity of a " notice to quit,"
upon an indictment for a forcible and felonious dispossession.*

* These vindictive or wanton prosecutions are becoming so frequent, and
the immediate and consequential evils are so great — for revenge in some law-
less form or other is sure to follow — that the government of the country ought
to interfere. The judges, when such cases come before them, never fail to ex-
press their indignation, and to warn the magistracy to be more cautious in
granting committals without thoroughly sifting the truth of the depositions upon
which they are grounded; but the guilty party, the malicious jpjrosecutor, es-
capes jnpunished. His crime is wilful perjury^-but this is an offence against
which, by a kind of general consent in Ireland, the laws are seldom or never
put in force — and hence one of the causes of its frequency ; but if prosecutors
and their witnesses were made practically to understand that the law would
hold them responsible for the truth of what they swear, if the seve.al crown
solicitors were instructed to watch the trials upon their respective circuits, and
to make every flagrant case of perjury that appeared the subject of prompt arid

LARRY CRONAN'S TRIAL. 33

But even omitting these exceptions, I should say from my own
observations that an Irish jail is, for the most part, delivered*
of remarkably fine children, particularly " the boys," though
from the numbers at a single birth, it would be too much to
expect that they all should be found " doing well." In many
the vital question is quickly decided, while in others, and it is
for these that one's interest is most raised, the chances of life
and death appear so nicely balanced, that the most experi-
enced observer can only watch the symptoms, without ventur-
ing to prognosticate the issue. Such, to give an apposite ex-
ample, was the memorable instance of Larry Crondn.

Larry Cronan was a stout, hardy, Irish lad, of five-and-
twenty. Like Saint Patrick, " he came of dacent people."!
He was a five-pound freeholder — paid his rent punctually —
voted for his landlord, and against his conscience — seldom
missed a mass, a fair, a wake, or a row — hated, and occasion-
ally cudgelled the tithe-proctor — loved his neighbor — had a

vigorous prosecution, some check might be given to what is now a monstrous
and increasing mischief. The experiment, I understand, was made some time
ago at Cork, and, though only in a single instance, with a very salutary effect.
On the first day of the assizes, a by-stander,' seeing a dock friend in danger,
jumped upon the table to give him " the loan of an oath." His testimony turn-
ing out to be a tissue of the grossest perjury, the judge ordered a bill of indict-
ment for the offence to be forthwith prepared and sent up to the grand jury.
The bill was found, and in the course of the same day, the offender was tried,
convicted, sentenced to ti'ansportation, put on board a convict-ship then ready
to sail, and, by day-break next morning found himself bearing away before a
steady breeze for Botany bay. The example had such an effect, that scarcely
an alibi-witness was to be had for love or money during the remainder of the
assizes.

* The word " delivered," is used here in reference to the fact that, in Great
Britain and Ireland, the judges of assize, who go on circuit, from county to
county, are bound to make " a general jail delivcry^that is, to fry every prison-
er, in each place, /unless the inquiry before the grand jury should ignore the bills
of indictment, or] " a true bill" being found, the trial is deferred from some
legal cause. Sometimes, of course, when the crown prosecutor declines trying
the accused, the " nolle proscqui" opens the prison-door, and sometimes, when
the offence is not very heavy the prisoner is liberated pro tern., on giving bail
for his appearance, to be tried at the next assizes. — M.
t " Saint Patrick was a gentleman,

And came of dacent people." — Irish Song.
O*

34 AN IRISH CIRCUIT.

wife and five-children, and, on the whole, passed for one of the
most prosperous and well-conducted boys in his barony. Al1 ^
this, however, did not prevent his being " given to understa',
by the Clerk of the Crown," at the summer assizes for his native
county, that he stood indicted in No. 15, for that (he, on a cer
tain night, and at a certain place, feloniously and burglariously
entered a certain dwelling-house, and then and there commit-
ted the usual misdeeds against his majesty's peace and the
statute ; and in No. 16, that he stood capitally indicted under
the Ellenborough act;* and in No. 18, for a common assault]
I was present at his trial, and still retain a vivid recollection
of the fortitude and address with which he made his stand
against the law ; and yet there were objects around him quite
sufficient to unnerve the boldest heart — a wife, a sister, and
an aged mother, for such I found to be the three females that
clung to the side bars of the dock, and awaited in silent
• agony the issue of his fate. But the prisoner, unsoftened and
undismayed, appeared unconscious of their presence. Every
faculty of his soul was on the alert to prove to his friends and
the county at large, that he was not a man to be hanged with-
out a struggle. He had .used the precaution to come down to
the dock that morning in his best attire, for he knew that with
an Irish jury, the next best thing to a general good character
is a respectable suit of clothes. It struck me that his new
silk neckkerchief, so bright and glossy, almost betokened
innocence ; for who would have gone to the unnecessary ex-
pense, if he apprehended that its place was so soon to be sup-
plied by the rope? His countenance bore no marks* of his
previous imprisonment. He was as fresh and healthy, and
his eye as bright, as if he had all the time been out on bail.

When his case was called on, instead of shrinking under the
general buzz that his appearance excited, or turning pale at
the plurality of crimes of which he was arraigned, he man-
fully looked the danger in the face, and put in action every
resource within his reach to avert it. Having despatched a

* A law passed by the British parliament, it the instance of the late Lord
Ellenborough, chief-justice of England. It provided punishment for such
offences agains* the person as " cutting and maiming, or mayhem." — M.

LARRY CRONAN'S TRIAL. 35

messenger to bring in O'Coimell from the other court,* and
beckoned to bis attorney to approach tbe dock-side, and keep
>Uhin whispering distance while the jury were swearing, he
"looked steadily to his challengers," and manifested no ordi-
nary powers of physiognomy, in putting by every juror that -
had anything of "a dead, dull, hang look." He had even the f
sagacity, though against the opinion of the attorney, to strike
off one country -gentleman from his own barony, a friend of his
in other respects, but who owed him a balance of three pounds
for illicit whiskey. Two or three sets of alibi witnesses, to
watch the evidence for the crown, and lay the venue of his
absence from the felony according to circumstances, were in
waiting, and, what was equally material, all tolerably sober.
The most formidable witness for the prosecution had been ^
that morning bought off. The consideration was, a first cousin
of Larry's in marriage, a forty-shilling freehold upon Larry's
farm, with a pig and a plough to set the young couple going.
Thus prepared, and his counsel now arrived, and the bustle
of his final instructions to his attorney and circums tan ding
friends being over, the prisoner calmly committed the rest to
fortune ; resembling in this particular the intrepid mariner,
who, perceiving a storm at hand, is all energy and alertness
to provide against its fury, until, having done all that skill and
forethought can effect, and made bis vessel as "snug and
tight" as the occasion will permit, he looks tranquilly on as
she drifts before the gale, assured that her final safety is now
in other hands than his.

* Mr. O'Connell's success with juries, whether in criminal or nisi pnus cases,
was very great. He went the Munster circuit (which included the southern
counties of Ireland — Clare, Limerick, Kerry, Cork, and Waterford), and almost
invariably held a brief for the defence in all criminal prosecutions. His busi-
ness on circuit was so great that, except in very important cases, he could not
read the prisoners' briefs. But the attorney for the defence used to condense
the leading facts and set them down on a single sheet of foolscap, and O'Con-
noll usually found time to peruse and roaster them, during the speech of the
crown counsel for the prosecution, relying on his own skill in the cross-exami-
nation of witnesses and his power with the jury." Like Belial, he " could make
the worse appear the better reason," as many an acquitted culprit had cause t#
Know and be grateful for. — M.

36 AN IRISH CIRCUIT.

The trial went on after the usual fashion of trials of the
kind. Abundance of hard swearing on the direct; retractions
and contradictions on the cross-examinations. The defence
was a masterpiece. Three several times the rope seemed
irrevocably entwined round poor Larry's neck — as many
times the dexterity of his counsel untied the Gordian knot.
From some of the witnesses he extracted that they were
unworthy of all credit, being notorious knaves or process-
servers. /Others be inveigled into a metaphysical puzzle
touching the prisoner's identity/others he stunned by re-
peated blows with the butt-end of an Irish joke. For minutes
together, the court, and jury, and galleries, and dock, were in
a roar. However the law or the facts of the case might turn
out, it was clear that the laugh, at least, was all on Larry's
side. In this perilous conjuncture, amid all the rapid alter-
nations of his case — now the prospect of a triumphant return
to his home and friends, now the sweet vision abruptly dis-
pelled, and the gibbet and executioner staring him in the face
— Larry's countenance exhibited a picture of heroical immo-
bility. Once, and once only, when the evidence was rushing
in a full tide against him, some signs of mortal trepidation
overcast his visage. The blood in his cheeks took fright and
fled — a cold perspiration burst from his brow. His lips be
came glued together. His sister, whose eyes were riveted
upon him, as she hung from the dock-side, extended her arm,
and applied a piece of orange to his mouth. He accepted the
relief, but, like an exhausted patient, without turning aside
to see by whose hand it was administered. At this crisis
of his courage, a home-thrust from O'Oonnell floored the wit-
ness who had so discomposed his client ; the public buzzed
their admiration, and Larry was himself again. The case for
the crown having closed, the prisoner's counsel announced
that he would call no witnesses. Larry's friends pressed hard
to have one, at least, of the alibis proved. The counsel was
inflexible, and they reluctantly submitted.

The case went to the jury loaded with hanging matter, but
still not without a saving doubt. After long deliberation, the
doubt prevailed. The jury came out, and the glorious sound

LARRY'S TRIUMPH. 37

of" not guilty," announced to Larry Cronan tliat, fortliis time,
lie had miraculously escaped the gallows. He bowed with
undissembled gratitude to the verdict. He thanked the jury.
He thanked " his lordship's honor." He thanked his counsel
— shook hands with the jailer — sprung at a bound over the
dock, was caught as he descended in the arms of his friends,
and hurried away in triumph to the precincts of the court. 1
saw him a few minutes after, as he was paraded through the
main street of the town on his return to his barony. The
sight was enough to make one almost long to have been on
the point of being hanged. The principal figure was Larry
himself, advancing with a firm and buoyant step, and occa-
sionally giving a responsive flourish of his cudgel, which he
had already resumed, to the cheerings and congratulations
amid which he moved along. At his sides were his wife and
sister, each of whom held the collar of his coat firmly grasped,
and, dragging him to and fro, interrupted his progress every
moment, as they threw themselves upon him, and gave vent to
their joy in another and another convulsive hug. A few
yards in front, his old mother bustled along in a strange sort
of a pace, between a trot and a canter, and every now and
then, discovering that she had shot too far ahead, pirouetted
round, and stood in the centre of the street, clapping her
withered hands and shouting out her ecstasy in native Irish,
until the groin, rame up, and again propelled her forward. A
cavalcade of neighbors, and among them the intended alibi
witnesses, talking as loud and looking as important as if their
^/perjury had been put to the test, brought up the rear. And
such was the manner and form in which Larry Cronan was
reconducted to his household gods, who saw him that night
celebrating, in the best of whiskey and bacon, the splendid
issue of his morning's pitched battle with the law.*

* Phillips relates that at the assizes of Enniakillen, (ffiunkpr once defended
a horse-stealer with such consummate tact, that one of the fraternity, in a par-
oxysm of delight, burst into an exclamation, " Long life to you, Plunket ! The
first horse I steal, boys, by Jekurs, I'll have Plunket !"/7ohn O'Conncll tells
an anecdote of his father, which is worth repeating. He defended a man
charged with highway robbery, and by an able cross-examination procured his
acquittal. Next year, at the assizes of the same town, he had to defend tho

38 AN misfl CIRCDIT.

The profusion of crime periodically appearing upon the Irish
calendars, wears, it must be admitted, a very tremendous as-
pect; quite sufficient to deter the British capitalist from trust-
ing his wealth within its reach. Yet, from the observations I
have had an opportunity of making, I am greatly inclined to
think that instances of pure, unmitigated, unprovoked invasion
of life and property would be found (every requisite compari-
son being made) to be, upon the whole, less frequent than in
England. The hardened, adroit, and desperate English felon,
embracing and persevering in crime as a means of bettering
his condition, is a character that, with the exception of tAvo or
three of the capital towns, has few counterparts in Ireland.
The Irish peasantry have unquestionably increased in fierce-
ness within the last twenty or thirty years ; yet, as far as out-
rages upon property for the sake of gain are concerned, it is
never the genius of a people so poor and contented with so lit-
tle, and that little so easily procured, to become gratuitous
thieves and highwaymen. They have too little _tagtejbr even
_the necessaries of life to risk their necks for its luxuries. At
seasons of unusual pressure, and under circumstances of pecu-
liar excitement, they are less abstinent ; but even then they
violate the laws in numbers and as partisans, and their mur-
ders and depredations have more the character of a political
revolt than of a merely felonious confederacy. In truth, it
may be almost said that, in the southern districts of Ireland,
the only constituted authentic organ of popular discontent is
midnight insurrection. If rents are too higbt if the tithe-proc
tor is insatiable, if agents are inexorable and distrain with
undue severity, the never-failing Captain Rock instanter takes

same man, under charge of having committed a burglary, with violence nearly
amounting to murder. The jury discredited the Government witnesses, could
not agree on a verdict, and the prisoner was discharged*. Again, O'Gonnell
had to defend him — this time on a charge of piracy — by demurring to the
jurisdiction of the Court, the offence, committed " on the high seas," being
cognizable only before an Admiralty Court. When the man saw his successful
counsel turn round to the dock, in which he stood, he stretched over to him,
and, raising eyes and hands moat piously and fervently to heaven, cried out,
"Oh, Mi. O'Connell, may the Lord spare you — to me '" — M.

CRIMINAL GALLANTRY. 39

tlie field with his nocturnal forces,* issues Ins justificatory mani-
festoes, levies arms and ammunition upon the gentry/burns a
few obnoxious tenements,, murders a police-magistrate or two,
and thus conveys to the public his di»satisfation with a state
of things, which (supposing them possible to exist in any quar-
ter of England) would be bloodlessly laid before the nation for
reprobation and redress, in a series of well-penned letters to the
editor of the "Morning Chronicle."!

There is, however, one particular felony, always figuring
conspicuously upon an Irish calendar, which I rather fear that
a genuine son of St. Patrick has a natural predisposition to
commit for its own sake. Irishmen the most sensitive for the
honor of their country, must, I think, admit that among them
a youthful admirer of the fair sex, with a hot-spring of true
Milesian blood in his veins, is disposed to be rather abrupt and

* The spirit of Irish disaffection (put down by Mr. O'Connell, who showed that
it actually supplied the Government with good grounds for making and enforcing
harsh laws) found numerous leaders in the south and west of Ireland, most of
whom assumed the soubriquet of " Captain Rock." The forces under the com-
mand of these leaders were generally called " Whiteboys," from their common
practice of wearing white shirts over their usual garments during their noctur-
nal excursions. Thomas Moore, who has apostrophized him as " the genius of
Riot," wrote the Memoirs of Captain Rock, in which, with more truth than
poetry, he thus briefly stated the causes of Irish discontent : —
" As long as Ireland shall pretend,

Like sugar-loaf, turned upside down,

To stand upon its smaller end,

So long shall live old Rock's renown.

As long as Popish spade and scythe

Shall dig and cut the Sassenagh's tithe ;

And Popish purses pay the tolls,

On heaven's road, for Sassenagh souls —

As long as Millions shall kneel down

To ask of Thousands for their own,

While Thousands proudly turn away,

And to the Millions answer, ' Nay !' —

So long the merry reign shall be

Of Captain Rork and his family." — M.

t In 1825, when this-sketch was published, the " Morning Chronicle" had
nearly as much influence, in and out of London, as The Times, and waa th*
great organ of the liberal pa»".y tri England and Ireland. — M.

4:0 AN IRISH ClRCtTlT.

peremptory toward the object of his adoration. And yet among
all the various cases that are tried at an Irish assizes, those in
which " ladies are recommended to leave tlie court" are per-
haps the most perplexing* to a judge and jury.* If, on the one
hand, the Hibernian lover be often hasty and irregular in his
Btyle of courtship ; on the other, the beauties of the bogs (let
Mr. O'Connell deny it as he will) are sometimes frail : and,
besides, the charge is in itself so easily made, and so difficult
to refute — still it may in any given case be true ; and the wit-
nesses depose to their wrorgs in such heart-rending accents,
and weep, and sigh, and faint away, so naturally — but then
so many instances occur in which all this turns out to be im-
posture; and the complainant has always so many motives to
swear to her own purity through thick and thin, and the bound-
ary between importunacy and felony is so undefinable, and she
is in general so ready to consent, that, after all, the affair shall
terminate, like a modern comedy, in a marriage, for in nine
cases out of ten it is almost impossible to divine whether the
real object of the prosecutrix is the prisoner's life, or his hand
and fortune. The party accused (whenever in point of fact he
can do so) suspects it to be the latter ; and it is often amusing
enough to watch his deportment, as influenced by that impres-
sion, throughout the progress of his trial.

At first he takes his station at the bar with the confident and

* In England it is the rule for ladies to attend the assizes, in Ireland it is
the exception. At any place, the practice is absurd and indelicate. The fair
sex who visit the Courts of Law, listening for hours, to evidence and speeches
which they could take no interest in, even if they understood them, evidently
go to exhibit their charms and — their wardrobe ! An aggravated murder case
pleases them — as a tragedy would. But their peculiar delight is to listen to
the details of an action for breach of promise of marriage. In cases of seduc-
tion and crim. con., the crier of the Court gives a preliminary warning " ladies
and boys will leave the Court." I recollect one of these cases, in which the
bulk of the petticoated spectators did not vacate their seats — their prurient
curiosity was predominant. In stating the facts, the prosecuting counsel, see-
Ing ladies in Court, and not wishing to wound their sense of delicacy, hesitated
for woids in which to wrap up the necessary grossness of the details. " Broth-
er." said the Judge, " as all the modest women have left the Court, you may
call things by their proper names." Then followed a great fluttering of bon-
net-plumes, acd, in five minutes after the reproof, the fair sex had left th*
Court! — M.

GETTING A WIFE u ON TRIAL." 41

Somewhat swaggering air of a man determined not to be bullied
by a capital prosecution into a mat&h against liis taste. It is
in vain that the prosecutrix apprizes him, by her softened and
half- forgiving glances, and her tender reluctance to swear too
hard at first, that if he says but the word she is ready "to
drop the business," and fly into his arms. In vain his friends
and hers endeavor to impress upon him the vast difference in
point of comfort and respectability between life with a wife
and home, and the premature abridgment of his days upon
gibbet. "No; his mind is made u;a, and he'll run all chances
and if she only tells the whole matter just as it happened, and
might happen to/ anybody, not a hair of his head has cause to
be afear'd." /This lasts for a time ; but as the case in its prog-
ress begins to wear a serious aspect, and the countenance of
his attorney to assume along with it a disastrous gravity, won-
drous is the revolution of sentiment that is gradually but rap-
idly produced. She, upon Avhom a little while ago he frowned
in scorn, on a sudden begins to find favor in his sight. With
every step that her gentle hand conducts him toward his doom,
he becomes more conjugally inclined. The more the thicken-
ing danger compels him to reconsider his determination, the
more clearly he sees that after all it will be better to receive
his "death from her eyes" than from her tongue; until at
length, being fairly led to the foot of the gallows, with the rope,
in such cases the most potent of love-chains, fast about his neck,
he announces himself the repentant lover, tenders the amende
honorable, and is transferred with all convenient speed from the
impending gripe of the hangman to the nuptial clasp of a young
and blooming bride. Such matches can hardly be said to be
" made in heaven ;" yet I have never heard that they turn out
less prosperously than others. The wife is all gratitude and
pride for having been " made an honest woman ;" the husband
is usually bound over at the time of the marriage to keep the
peace toward the mistress of his soul; and, with these collat-
eral securities for domestic bliss, they generally contrive to
live on, and defy Mr. Malthus, with as much harmony as if
their fates had been united by a less" circuitous process.*

* There is a difference of opinion among the judges as to the expediency of
permitting a. prosecution to be stopped in the manner above described. The

4:2 AN IRISH cmctriT.

These are tilings to smile at ; but exhibitions of a far differ- "
out character occasionally occur — not, as already stated, more
frequently than elsewhere, but when they do appear, present-
ing instances of deep aboriginal depravity, for which no politi-
cal or social palliation can be found. Nor is it exclusively
from among the refuse of the community that such examples
n-ay be taken. Of this I have before me a remarkable illus-
tration in the details of a case that happened a few years ago,
and which, in addition to the singularity of the incidents, has
the novelty of being now for the first time presented in a
printed form to the public.*

The river Shannon, in its passage westward toward the
Atlantic, expands, about forty miles below the city of Lim-
erick, into a capacious sheet of water resembling an estuary,
and making a distance of ten or twelve miles from bank to
bank. At the northern, or county of Clare side, is the town
of Kilrush. Upon the opposite shore, adjoining the borders
of the counties of Limerick and Kerry, is the town of Tarbert ;
and a few miles higher up the stream the now inconsiderable
village of Glyn — the same from which a branch of the Fitz-
geralds originally took their ancient and still-honored title of
" Knights of Glyn.." None of these places make any kind of
show upon the banks, which besides are pretty thickly planted
almost down to the water's edge. The river itself in this part

question is full of difficulty ; but all things considered, it would probably be
more salutary, to let the law in every instance take its course. If an indul-
gence, which originated in humanity, often saves a court and jury from a dis-
tressing duty, it, on the other hand, has a tendency to encourage interested
prosecutions and also to render the actual commission of the crime more fre-
quent, by holding out to offenders the possibility of such a means of escape in
the last resort. [At present, and for many years past, a prosecution for abduc-
tion once brought before a jury is not allowed to be stopped — except for want
of evidence. Tl.e result is that the offence has scarcely been heard of latter-
ly.—M.]

* Upon the inq lents here related, with a graphic clearness and force most
touching in their naked simplicity, the late Gerald Griffin, himself a " Limer-
ick man," founded " The Collegians," his most striking and truthful work of
fiction. The original of his " Hardress Cregan" was John Scanlai., whose
name was not published by Mr. Sheil, out of respect for the feelings of hi*
family, one of the most respectable in the South of Ireland. — M.

A MYSTERIOUS MURDER.

presents few signs of human intercourse. In tlie finest summer
weather the eye may often look round and search in vain for
a single bank or boat to break the solitude of the scene. The
general desolation is in fact at times so complete, that were
an adept in crime to be in quest of a place where a deed
of violence might be perpetrated under the eye of God alone,
he could not select a fitter scene than the channel of the river
Shannon, midway between the points I have just described.

One morning, a little after sunrise, about the latter end of
July, in the year 1819, two poor fishermen, named Patrick
Con 11 ell and .... Driscol, who lived at Money-Point, a small
hamlet near Kilrush, went down to the river-side, according to
their custom, to attend to their occupation. As they walked
along the strand in the direction of their boat, they came upon
a human body which had been washed ashore by the last tide.
It was the remains of a young female, and had no clothing or
covering of any kind excepting a small bodice. Who or what
she had been they could not conjecture, but how she came by
her death was manifest. They found a rope tied at one end
as tightly as possible round the neck, and at the other present-
ing a large loop, to which they supposed that a stone or some
other weight had been attached, until the working of the
stream had caused it to separate. From the general state of
the body, and more particularly from the teeth having almost
all dropped out, they concluded that it must have been under
the water for several weeks. After a short consultation, the
two fishermen resolved upon proceeding without delay to Kil-
rush, to apprize the civil authorities of the circumstance; but
in the meantime they could not bear to think of leaving the
remains exposed as they had found them on the shore, and
liable to be borne away again by the tide before they could
return. They accordingly removed the body to a little dis-
tance beyond high-water mark, and gave it a temporary inter-
ment. The feelings with which they performed this office were
marked by that tender and reverential regard toward the dead
which distinguishes the Irish peasantry. Upon the subsequent
investigations, it became of importance to ascertain whether
the burial had been conducted in such a manner as not to have

44 AN HUSH CIRCUIT.

occasioned any additional injury or disfigurement to the re-
mains ; and Patrick Connell being asked the question, replied
in a tone of voice so pathetic as to bring a tear into every eye i
" No," said the poor fellow, raising both his hands, and attempt-
ing to convey by their movements the gentleness that had been
used, " it was impossible for anything we did to injure or dis-
figure her, for we laid her up neatly in sea-weeds, and then
covered her all round softly with the sand, so that nothing
could harm her."

The magistrates of the neighborhood having ascertained
from the report of the fishermen that a dreadful crime had been
committed, set immediate inquiries on foot for the discovery of
the offender. The task could not have devolved upon a more
competent class of men. Whatever other failings may have
been imputed to the Irish country-gentlemen, indifference or
inexpertness in the detection of criminals has not been among
them. Time out of mind, the political and social anomalies
of Ireland have kept that body continually on the alert for the
protection of their lives and properties. To the abstract prin-
ciple of public duty and general love of justice, has been super-
added the more pressing stimulus of self-preservation. The
consequence is, that their local information in all that can re-
late to the discovery of a public offender is singularly accurate
and extensive ; and equally remarkable are their skill and zeal
in putting every resource in play for the attainment of theii
object.* The exertions of the magistrates in the present in-
stance were so successful, that a considerable mass of circum-

* Liberal pecuniary rewards for prosecuting to conviction, are among the
number; but experience has shown that in such a country as Ireland, this may
be a very dangerous expedient. A striking instance occurred a few years ago
A young gentleman, the son of an unpopular English agent, was barbarously
murdered. The reward offered, amounted to some hundreds of pounds. Foi
some time no evidence was tendered ; at length a boy, about thirteen years of
age, and whose parents were in the most indigent circumstances, presented
himself and stated that he had witnessed the murder from a concealed position
behind a hedge, and that he could identify one of the persons engaged in it
by a particular mark on one of his cheeks. From the description, suspicion
lighted upon a particular man, who was accordingly apprehended, and being
shown to the boy, was pronounced by him to be the very person. On the trial,
the boy, the only material witness, gave his evidence so clearly and positively.

A MYSTERIOUS MURDER. 45

stantial evidence was in readiness for the coronet's jury, that
was summoned to inquire into the identity of the deceased and
the cause of her death. The details were voluminous, and I
shall therefore select only the most striking and material.

The most important and ample information was communi-
cated by a young woman named Ellen Walsh. A few weeks
before the finding of the remains, this person being at Kilrush,
went down to the river-side in search of a passage across to
Glyn, where she resided in service with a lady. It was then
approaching sunset. Upon arriving at the shore, she found a
small pleasure-boat on the point of putting off for Tarbert.

Six persons were in the boat, a Mr. S , a young woman

who was addressed as Mrs. S , Stephen Sullivan, Mr.

S 's servant, and three boatmen of the town of Kilrush.

There was also on board a trunk belonging to Mrs. S— - — .
The only one of the party of whom Ellen Walsh had any pre-
vious knowledge was Sullivan, whose native place was Glyn;
and, upon addressing herself to him for a passage across, she
was permitted to enter the boat. They immediately got under
weigh, expecting to reach Tarbert before dark ; but before
they had proceeded any distance on their way across, they
discovered that this was impracticable. In addition to an ad-
verse tide, it came on to blow so hard against them that the
boat made little or no way, so that they were kept out upon
the water the whole of the night. Toward morning a heavy
shower of rain fell, but, the wind having moderated, the rowers
succeeded in reaching a small place below Tarbert, called
Carrickafoyle. Here the party landed as the day began to
dawn, and, taking the trunk along with them, proceeded to a
small public-house in the village, to dry themselves and ob-
tain refreshment. After breakfast, the boatmen, who had
been hired for the single occasion of rowing the boat across
the river, were dismissed and returned toward their homes.

and sustained the ordeal of a cross-examination so successfully, that the most
incredulous could scarcely question his veracity. The prisoner, however, was
fortunately able to prove an alibi, and escaped. A few months after, the real
criminal, who had a mark on one of his cheeks, was apprehended, tried, and
convicted upon evidence beyond all imputation

46 AN IRISH CIRCUIT.

The boat, which (it afterward appeared) had been purchased

a few days before by Mr. S , remained. Shortly after fhe

departure of the boatmen, Mr. S and Sullivan went out

(they said to search for change of a note), and were absent

about an hour, leaving Mrs. S and Ellen Walsh together

in the public-house. And here it was that some particulars
observed by the latter, when subsequently recalled to her rec-
ollection and disclosed, became of vital moment as matters of
circumstantial evidence.

It has .been already stated, that the body found by the
fishermen, was without any covering save a small bodice ; so
that no direct evidence of identity could be established by
ascertaining what particular dress Mrs. S Avore; but indi-
rectly, a knowledge of this fact (as will appear in the sequel),
became of the first importance. Upon this subject Ellen
Walsh was able to give some minute and accurate infor-
mation. She had forgotten the color of the gown Mrs. S

wore when they landed at Carrickafoyle, but she well remem-
bered that she had on a gray cloth mantle lined with light blue
silk, and with welts of a particular fashion in the skirts. She
also Avore a pink-colored silk handkerchief round her neck,
and had on her finger two gold rings — one plain, the other
carved. These Ellen Walsh had observed and noted before

Mr. S and his servant left the public-house ; but during

their absence, Mrs. S opened the trunk, and, with the

natural vanity of a young female, exhibited for her admiration
several new articles of dress which it contained. Among
other things, there were two trimmed 'spencers — one of green,
the other of yellow silk; two thin muslin frocks — one plain,
the other worked ; and a green velvet reticule trimmed with
gold lace.

Upon the return of Mr. S and Sullivan to the public-

hbuse, the weather having now cleared, they proposed to Mrs.

S to go on board the boat. Ellen Walsh, understanding

that Tarbert was their destination, desired to accompany
them; but Sullivan, taking her aside, recommended to her to
remain where she was until the following morning, adding (and
this last observation was in the hearing of his master), that in

ACCUMULATED EVIDENCE. 47

the meantime " they would get rid of that girl (Mrs. S ),"

and then return and convey her to Glyn. This Ellen Walsh
declined, and followed the party to the beach, entreating to be
at least put across to the other side of a certain creek there,
which would save her a round of several miles on her way
homeward. At first they would not consent, and put off with-
out her; but seeing her begin to cry, Mr. S and Sullivan,

after a short consultation, put back the boat, and taking her in,
conveyed her across the creek, and landed her about three
miles below the town of Glyn. They then sailed away in the
direction of the opposite shore, and she proceeded home-
ward.

Early next morning Ellen Walsh, having occasion to go out
upon some errand, was surprised to see Sullivan standing at
the door of his mother's house in Glyn. She entered the house,

and the first thing she perceived was Mrs. S 's trunk upon

the floor. She asked if Mrs. S was in Glyn. Sullivan

replied that " she was not; that they had shipped her off with
the captain of an American vessel." Two or three days after,
Ellen Walsh saw upon one of Sullivan's sisters a gray man-
tle, which she instantly recognised as the one Mrs. S had

worn at Carrickafoyle. There was a woman at Glyn, named

Grace Scanlon, with whom Mr. S , when he went there,

was in the habit of lodging. In this person's house Ellen
tValsh some time after saw the silk handkerchief, one of the

spencers, and the two rnuslin frocks which Mrs. S had

shown her at Oarrickafoyle. (These, it appeared from other
evidence, had been sold to Grace Scanlon by Sullivan, who
accounted to her for their coming into his possession, by stating

that Mrs. S had run away from Kilrush with an officer, and

left her trunk of clothes behind her.) Finally, about a fort-
night after the disappearance of Mrs. S , Ellen Walsh,

going one evening into Grace Scanlon's house, found Mr.

S and Sullivan sitting there. The former had on one

of his fingers a gold carved ring, precisely resembling that

worn by Mrs. S . They both were under the influence of

liquor, and talked much and loud.- Among other things, Sul-
livan asked his master for some money ; and on being efused,

AN IRISH CIKCUIT.

observed emphatically, "Mr. John, you know I have as good
a right to that money as you have."

Such were, in substance, the most material facts (excepting
one particular hereafter mentioned), that had fallen under
Ellen Walsh's observation ; and, upon the magistrates being
apprized that she had such evidence to give, she was summon-
ed as a witness upon the inquest. She accordingly attended,
and accompanied the coroner's jury to the place where the
remains had been deposited by the fishermen. The circum-
stances she detailed were pregnant with suspicion against Mr.
his servant. A young and defenceless female had

disappeared. Upon the last occasion of her having been
seen, she was in their company, in an open boat on the river
Shannon. A declaration had been made by the servant,
"that she was to be got rid of." Ori the very next day her
trunk of clothes is seen in their possession, and, soon after, a
part of the dress she wore in the boat on the servant's sister,
and one of her rings on the master's finger ; add to this the
mysterious allusion to the money — "Mr. John, you know I
have as good a right to that money as you have." A few
weeks after, a body is washed ashore, near to the place where
this young woman had been last seen — the body of a young
female, who had manifestly been stripped, and murdered, and
flung into the river, and exhibiting symptoms of decay (ac-
cording to the report of the fishermen), that exactly tallied
with the time of her suspected death.

On the other hand, there were some circumstances in the case,
as detailed by Ellen Walsh, which justified the magistrates in
considering that a jury should pause before they pronounced
her evidence to be conclusive. Of Sullivan they had no knowl-
edge ; but his master they knew to be a young gentleman of
some territorial property, of respectable parentage, and nearly
allied by blood with more than one of the noble families of
Ireland. This naturally compelled them to entertain some
doubts. Then upon the supposition that he and his servant
had concerted the murder of the young woman Ellen Walsh
had seen with them, what could have been more clumsy and
incautious than their previous and subsequent conduct 1 The

CONFLICTING TESTIMONY. 49

inference from her story of the transaction was, that the time
and manner of executing their deadly purpose were finally de-
termined upon during their absence from the public-house at
Carrickafoyle. Yet the first thing they do upon their return is
to inform her, without any kind of necessity for the communi-
cation, " that they want to get rid of that girl" — a declaration
consistent enough with their subsequent account of her disap-
pearance, but almost incredible if considered as a gratuitous
disclosure by persons meditating the perpetration of an atro-
cious crime. They next permit the same person (as if deter-
mined that she should be a future witness against them) to see
them bearing away their victim to the very scene of execution ;
and, finally, they appear the next day in the town of Glyn,
and publicly exhibit themselves and the evidences of their
crime to the very person from whose scrutiny and observation,
upon the supposition of their guilt, they must have known they
had so much to apprehend !

These conflicting views did not escape the attention of the
magistrates who had undertaken the investigation of this affair.
They saw that the case would continue involved in mystery,
unless it could be unequivocally made to appear that the young
woman seen by Ellen Walsh and the murdered person were
the same. For this purpose, before they allowed the body to
be disinterred for the inspection of the jury, they used the pre-
caution of re-interrogating Ellen Walsh, as to every the minu-
test particular she could recall respecting the personal appear-
ance of Mrs. S . The witness stated she was extremely

young, not more, she imagined, than fifteen or sixteen, and
that her figure was short and slight. So far her description
corresponded with that of the fishermen, who were also in at-
tendance ; but this would have been too feeble and general
evidence of identity for a court of criminal inquiry to act upon

with safety. The witness farther stated that Mrs. S was

remarkably handsome, and gave the coroner's jury a minute
description of her face ; but no comparison of feature could
now be availing. In the remains over which the investigation
was holding, every natural lineamen-t of the countenance must
long since have been utterly effaced by death, and by th0

Voi,. I,— £

50 AN IRISH CIRCUIT.

equally disfiguring operation of the element to which they had
been exposed. At length, however, the witness distinctly re-
called to her recollection one peculiarity about Mrs. S 's

face, which, if she and the deceased were the same, might still
be visible. The teeth were not perfectly regular. Two oftht
upper row (one at eacJi side) projected considerably. This im-
portant clew having been obtained, the remains were disinter-
red, and found in the condition which the fishermen had de-
scribed. The mouth was of course the first and chief object
of minute inspection. The teeth of the upper jaw had all
dropped out ; but upon a careful examination of the sockets, two
of the side ones were found to be of such a particular formation as
satisfied the jury that the teeth belonging to them must of ne-
cessity have projected as the witness represented. Upon this
fact, coupled with the other particulars of her testimony, they
returned a verdict, finding that the deceased had been wilfully

murdered by" John S and Stephen Sullivan. Warrants

were immediately issued for the apprehension of the parties ac-
cused, neither of whom (and this was not an immaterial circum-
stance) had been seen in public since the finding of the remains
on the shore. The servant succeeded in concealing himself.
The master was traced to a particular farmhouse in the county
of Limerick, and followed thither by the officers of justice,
accompanied by a party of dragoons. They searched the
place ineffectually, and were retiring as from a fruitless pur-
suit, when one of the dragoons, as he was riding away, stuck
his sabre, more in sport than otherwise, into a heap of straw
that lay near the house. The sword met with no resistance,
and the dragoon had already passed on, when a figure burst from

beneath the straw and called out for mercy. It was Mr. S .

From some passages in the statement of Ellen Walsh, it was
sufficiently obvious that the deceased could not have been the
wife of Mr. S , and who she had been, remained to be dis-
covered. Before the lapse of many days, this point was ascer-
tained. There was an humble man named John Conroy, who
had followed the trade of a shoemaker in one of the small
towns of the county of Limerick. This person had humanely
protected an orphan niece (named Ellen Hanlon), and brought

THE TRIAL OF SCANLAN. 51

her up from her infancy in his house as one of his own chil-
dren, till she attained her sixteenth year. She was uncom-
monly handsome, and, as he imagined, equally modest and
trustworthy. Her uncle, who it appeared was an honest, in-
dustrious man, was in the habit of obtaining credit to a con
eider able amount for articles in the way of his trade from the
wholesale dealers in Cork, which he regularly visited once a
year for the purpose of discharging his engagements for the
preceding, and obtaining a fresh supply for the ensuing year.
A few weeks before the circumstances above detailed, Conroy
was about to proceed to Cork according to his annual custom.
He had then in his house one hundred pounds in notes, and
twelve guineas in gold. On the Sunday preceding his intend-
ed departure, while he was at mass, Ellen Hanlon disappeared,
and along with her the whole of his "money. He never heard

of her after, neither had he any knowledge of Mr. S , but,

from the description given of the young woman who had been
with him on the Shannon, and more particularly from the coinci-
dence of the peculiarity about the teeth, he was assured that
his niece must have been the person, and was accordingly

produced as a witness for the crown upon Mr. S 's trial.

The disclosure of these new facts, though it might have dimin-
ished in some degree the public sympathy for the fate of the
victim, had a proportionate effect in aggravating every senti-
ment of horror against the prisoner, by superadding the crimes
of seduction and robbery to murder.

The trial came on at the ensuing assizes for the county of
Limerick. A clear case of circumstantial evidence, consisting
mainly of the foregoing facts, was made out against the pris-
oner, who had nothing, save the ingenuity of his counsel, to
offer in his defence. When the issue was handed up to ',ie
jury, it was supposed that they would return a verdict of con-
viction without leaving the box ; but, contrary to expectatirai,
they retired, and continued long engaged in consultation. The
populace, who watched the proceedings with extraordinary
interest, murmured at the delay. This was by no means a
usual or characteristic sentiment ; but at this particular period,
$nd in this particular county, the minds of the lower orders

52 AN IRISH CIRCUIT.

were already in rapid progress toward that point of political
excitation, which soon after exploded in a formidable insurrec-
tion. Against the culprit or the crime they might have felt in
the abstract no peculiar indignation ; but he was a protestant
and a gentleman, and they naturally contrasted the present
hesitation to convict with the promptitude that, as they con-
sidered, would have been manifested had such evidence been
adduced against any one of them. At length, late in the
evening, a verdict of guilty was found. Sentence of death was
pronounced, and the prisoner ordered for execution on the next
day but one succeeding his conviction.

Some very unusual incidents followed. Before the judge
left the bench, he received an application, sanctioned by some
names of consideration in the county, and praying that he
would transmit to the viceroy a memorial in the prisoner's
favor. The judge, feeling the case to be one where the law
should sternly take its course, refused to interfere. He was
then solicited to permit the sentence to be at least respited to
such a time as would enable those interested in the prisoner's
behalf to ascertain the result of such an application from them-
selves. To this request the same answer was, for the same
reasons, returned. There being, however, still time, if expedi-
tion were used, to make the experiment, a memorial, the pre-
cise terms of which did not publicly transpire, was that even-
ing despatched by a special messenger to the seat of govern-
ment. This proceeding was the subject of much and varied
commentary. By some it was attributed to the prisoner's prot-
estations of innocence — for he vehemently protested his inno-
cence ; by others to particular views and feelings, in which
politics predominated ; by the majority (and this conjecture
appears to have been the true one), to an anxiety to avert, if
possible, from the families of rank and influence with which
the culprit was allied, the stigma of an ignominious execution.

The hour beyond which the law had said that this guilty
young man should not be permitted to exist, was now at hand,
and the special messenger had not returned. Yet, so confident
were the prisoner's friends that tidings of mercy were on the
way, that the sheriff humanely consented to connive at every

GAME. 53

possible procrastination of the dreadful ceremony. He Lad
already lived for raore than two hours beyond his appointed
time, when an answer from the castle of Dublin arrived. Its
purport was, to bid him prepare for instant death. I have
heard from a gentleman wh? visited his cell a few minutes
after this final intimation, tha,. his composure was astonishing.
His sole anxiety seemed to be, to show that he could die with
firmness. An empty vial was lying in the cell — "You have
been taking laudanum, I perceive, sir," said the gentleman.
" I have," he replied, " but not with the object that you sus-
pect. The dose was not strong enough for that — I merely
took as much as would steady my nerves." He asserted his
innocence of all participation in the murder of Ellen Hanlon,
and declared that, if ever Sullivan should be brought to trial,
the injustice of the present sentence would appear.

The friends of the prisoner were, for many and obvious
reasons, desirous that he should be conveyed in a close car-
riage to the place of execution. Expecting a reprieve, they
had neglected to provide one, and they now found it impossible
to hire such a conveyance. Large sums were offered at the
different places where chaises and horses were to be let; but
the popular prejudice prevailed.* At last an old carriage was
found exposed to sale, and purchased. Horses were still to be

* It is considered in Ireland, that whoever lends or hires cattle or convey-
ance at an execution participates in the abhorred vocation of the hangman.
Before the " drop" was invented, the condemned was usually conveyed to the
gallows in a cart, sitting on his coffin — unless it were part of his punishment
..hat " his body be handed over to the surgeons for dissection." The finisher
of the law, having adjusted the fatal rope on " the horse that was foaled of an
acorn" (see Ainsworth's Jack Sheppard), and round the neck of the doomed
man, whom he placed standing in the cart, used to descend on terra firma, take
hold of the horse's head, draw away the cart, and thus give the death-fall to
his victim. If any other person led the horse away, the disgrace of having
virtually acted as -executioner would cling to him through life. As I am on
the subject, I may add that " Jack Ketch" is a nom-de-corde used only in
England. The Irish nick-name, no matter what the true appellation, is
" Canty the hangman," and the miserable wretch is compelled, out of regard
for his personal safety, to reside n prison. If recognised out of doors, his life
would not be worth half-an-hour's purchase, so great is the popular detestation
of his trade of legal murder. — M.

54: AN IRTSII CtRCUlT.

provided, when two turf-carts, belonging to tenants of the pris-
oner, appeared moving into the town. The horses were taken
from under the carts, and harnessed to the carriage. To this
the owners made no resistance ; but no threats or entreaties
could induce either of them to undertake the office of driver.
After a further delay occasioned by this difficulty, a needy
wretch among the bystanders was tempted by the offer of a
guinea to take the reins and brave the ridicule of the mob.
The prisoner, accompanied by the jailer and clergyman, was
put into the carriage, and the procession began to advance.
At the distance of a few hundred yards from the jail, a bridge
was to be passed. The horses, which had shown no signs of
restiffness before, no sooner reached the foot of the bridge
than they came to a full stop. Beating, coaxing, cursing — all
were unavailing; not an inch beyond that spot could they be
made to advance. The contest between them and the driver
terminated in one of the horses deliberately lying down amid
the cheers of the mob. To their excited apprehensions, this
act of the animal had a superstitious import. It evinced a
preternatural abhorrence of the crime of murder — a miraculous
instinct in detecting guilt, which a jury of Irish gentlemen had
taken hours to pronounce upon.

Every effort to get the carriage forward having failed, the
prisoner was removed from it, and conducted on foot to the
place of execution. It was a solemn and melancholy sight as
he slowly moved along the main street of a crowded city, en-
vironed by military, unpitied by the populace, and gazed at
with shuddering curiosity from every window. For a while
the operation of the laudanum he had drunk was manifest.
There was a drowsy stupor in his eye as he cast it insensibly
around him. Instead of moving continuously forward, every
step he made in advance seemed a distinct and laborious effort.
Without the assistance of the jailer and clergyman who sup-
ported him between them, he must, to all appearance, have
dropped on the pavement. These effects, however, gradually
subsided, and before he arrived at the place of execution his
frame had resumed its wonted firmness. The conduct of the
prisoner in his last moments had nothing remarkable ; yet it

VALtTE OF DYING DECLARATIONS. 55

suggests a few remarks, and furnishes a striking illustration
upon a subject of some interest as connected with the adminis-
tration of justice in Ireland.

In that country an extraordinary importance is attached to
dying declarations. In cases exciting any unusual interest, no
sooner is a convicted person handed over to the executioner,
than he is heset on all sides with entreaties to make what is
sailed a last satisfaction to justice and to the public mind, by
an open confession of his guilt. As between the convict and
the law, such a proceeding is utterly nugatory. If he denies
his guilt, he is not believed ; if he admits it, he only admits
a fact so conclusively established, as to every practical pur-
pose, that any supplemental corroboration is superfluous. If
the verdict of a jury required the sanction of a confession, no
sentence could be justifiably executed in any case where that
sanction was withheld. But this could not be. In submitting
the question of guilt or innocence to the process of a public
trial, we apply the most efficacious method that our laws have
been able to devise for the discovery of the truth. The result,
like that of all other questions depending upon human testi-
mony, may be erroneous. The condemned may be a martyr;
for juries are fallible : but, for the purposes of society, their
verdict must be final, except upon those rare occasions where
its propriety is subsequently brought into doubt by new evi-
dence, emanating from a less questionable source than that of
the party most interested in arraigning it.

Then, as far as regards the satisfaction of the public mind
with the justice of the conviction (for upon this great stress is
also laid), the public should ntver be encouraged to require a
higher degree of certainty than the law requires. But the
practice of harassing convicts for a confession before the
crowds assembled to witness their execution, produces this
effect. — It teaches them to divert their attention from the best
and only practical test of a question that should no longer be
at issue, and to set a value upon a test the most deceptive
that can be imagined. A voluntary admission of guilt may,
to be sure, be depended on ; but, after conviction, no kind of
relia«ce can be placed upon the most solemn asseverations to

56 AN IRISH CiRCtTr?.

the contrary. Deatli and eternity are dreadful things ; and it
is dreadful to think of wretches determined to hrave them with
a deliberate falsehood upon their lips ; yet there are men —
many — that have the nerve to do this. In Ireland it is of
frequent occurrence ; particularly in cases of conviction for
political offences, and, more or less, in all others. A regard
! for posthumous reputation — the false glory of being rernem-
' bered as a martyr — a stubborn determination to make no
concession to a system of laws that he never respected — con-
cern for the feelings and character of relatives, by whom a
dying protestation of innocence is cherished, and appealed
to as a bequest to the honor of a family -name ' these and
similar motives attend the departing culprit to the final scene,
and prevail to the last over every suggestion of truth and
religion. It was so in the case I am now narrating. At the
place of execution, the prisoner was solemnly adjured by the
clergyman in attendance to admit the justice of his sentence :
he as solemnly re-asserted his innocence. The cap was drawn
over his eyes, and he was about to be thrown off. An acci-
dental interruption occurred. The clergyman raised the cap,
and once more appealed to him as to a person upon whom the
world had already closed. The answer was : "I am suffer-
ing for a crime in which I never participated. If Sullivan is
ever found, my innocence will appear."

Sullivan was found before the next assizes, when he was tried
and convicted upon the same evidence adduced against his
master. Sullivan was a catholic ; and after his conviction
made a voluntary and full confession. It put the master's
guilt beyond all question. The wretched girl, according to
his statement, had insisted upon retaining in her own hands
one half of the sum of which she had robbed her uncle. To
obtain this, and also to disembarrass himself of an incum-
brance, her seducer planned her death. Sullivan undertook
to be the executioner. After setting Ellen Walsh on shore,
they returned to an unfrequented point near Carrickafoyle,
where the instrument of murder, a musket, and a rope, lay
concealed. With these and the unsuspecting victim, Sullivan
put out in the boat. The master remained upon the strand.

A POPULAR BELIEF. 57

A.fter the interval of an hour, the boat returned, bearing back
Ellen Haulon unharmed. " I thought I had made up my
mind," said the ruffian in his penitential declaration ; " I
was just lifting the musket to dash her brains out — but when
I looked in her innocent face, I had not the heart to do it." This
excuse made no impression upon the merciless master. Sul-
livan was plied with liquor, and again despatched upon the
murderous mission; the musket was once more raised, and —
the rest has been told.*

* It may be mentioned as a striking instance of the belief in the declaration
(made by no less a person than Lord Redesdale, who had been Irish lord-
chancellor), " in Ireland there is one law for the rich, and another for the
poor,'' that there are yet hundreds in the county of Limerick, who were present
at this execution, and seriously believed that it was not Mr. Scanlan who was
hanged, but some other prisoner who was rendered unconscious by means o"
strong narcotics. It was currently reported that, because he was a gentleman,
Scanlan was allowed to escape to the United States, where he eventually came
to a violent death ! It is notorious that after the public execution of Fauntle-
roy, the London banker, for forgery, a motion for delay, in some case where
a large amount of property was involved, was actually made in one of the law-
courts at Westminster, grounded in an affidavit that Fauntleroy was alive in
America, and that a commission should be sent over to take his examination
as a witness. The motion was refused, as the fact of his continued existence
was not positively sworn to, but it is surprising that the lawyer who made, and
the judge who heard the motion, should have forgotten the plain and undoubted
fact, that having been capitally condemned, Fauntleroy was dead in laic, ani
L\» evidence, therefore, qu!/;e valueless. — M.

3*

HALL OF THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN

THE law, and the practice of the courts, in Ireland, are, with
some trivial exceptions, precisely the same as in England ;*
but the system of professional life in Ireland is in some respects
different. I allude to the custom, which the Irish bar have
long since adopted, of assembling daily for the transaction of
business, or in search of it, if they have it. not, in the " Hall
of the Four Courts," Dublin. The building itself is a splendid
one. Like the other public edifices of Dublin (and I might
add, the private ones), it is an effort of Irish pride, exceeding
far in magnificence the substantial wealth and civilization of
the country. In the centre of the interior, and overcanopied
by a lofty dome, is a spacious circular hall, into which the sev-
eral courts of justice open.

I was fond of lounging in this place. From the hours of
twelve to three it is a busy and a motley scene. When I
speak of it as the place of daily resort for the members of the
legal profession and their clients, I may be understood to mean
that it is the general rendezvous of the whole community ; for
in Ireland almost every man of any pretensions that you meet,
is either a plaintiff or defendant, or on the point of becoming
BO, and, when in Dublin, seldom fails to repair at least once a
day to " the Hall," in order to look after his cause, and, by
conferences with his lawyers, to keep up his mind to the true

* There are no regular reports of the Irish cases. All the new authorities
are imported from England ; so that the accident of a fair or foul wind may
sometimes affect the decision of a cause. "Are you sure, Mr. PJunket," said
Lord Manners, one day, " that what you have stated is the law ?" — " It unques-
tionably was the law half an hour ago," replied Mr. P. pulling out his watch,
" but by this time the packet has probably arrived, and I shall not be positive."

4
fitTBBUB IN TllE COTTBT^. 50

litigating temperature. It is here, too, tliat the political idlers
of the town resort, to drop or pick up the rumors of the day.
There is also a plentiful admixture of the lower orders, among
whom it is not difficult to distinguish the country -litigant.
You know him by his mantle of frieze, his two boots and one
spur; by the tattered lease, fit emblem of his tenement, which
he unfolds as cautiously as Sir Humphrey Davy would a man-
uscript of Herculaneum ; and, best of all, by his rueful visage,
in which you can clearly read that some clause in the last
ejectment-act lies heavy on his heart.

These form the principal materials of the scene ; but it is not
so easy to enumerate the manifold and ever-shifting cornbina
tions into which they are diversified. The rapid succession
of so many objects, passing and repassing eternally before you,
perplexes and quickly exhausts the eye. It fares still worse
with the ear. The din is tremendous. Besides the tumult of
some thousand voices in ardent discussion, and the most of
them raised to the declamatory pitch, you have ever and anon
the stentorian cries of the tipstaffs, bawling out, " The^gentle-
men of the special jury to the box !" or the still more thrilling
vociferations of attorneys or attorneys' clerks, hallooing to a
particular counsel that " their case is called on, and all is lost if
he delays an instant !" Whereupon the counsel, catching up
the sound of his name, wafted through the hubbub, breaks pre-
cipitately from the circle that engages him, and bustles through
the throng, escorted, if he be of any eminence, by a posse of
applicants, each claiming to monopolize him, until he reaches
the entrance of the court, and, plunging in, escapes for that
time from their importunate solicitations.

The bustle among the members of the bar is greatly in-
creased by the circumstance of them all, with very few excep-
tions, practising in all the courts.* Hence at every moment

* The custom that prevails in Ireland, of counsel dividing themselves among
the several courts, produces, particularly in important cases, an inconvenience
similar to one that Cicero complains of as peculiar to the Roman forum in his
day — the multiplicity of ad\ocates retained upon each trial, and the absence
of some of them during parts of the proceedings upon which they have after-
ward to comment.

•*

60 HALL OF THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN.

you see tlie most eminent darting across the hall, flushed and
palpitating from the recent conflict, and, no breathing-time al-
lowed them, advancing with rapid strides and looks of fierce
intent, to fling themselves again into the thick of another fight.
It daily happens that two cases are to be heard in different
courts, and in which the same barrister is the client's main
support, are called on at the same hour. On such occasions it
is amusing to witness the contest between the respective attor-
neys to secure their champion.

Mr. O'Connell, for instance, who is high in every branch of
his profession, and peculiarly in request for what is termed
" battling a motion," is perpetually to be seen, a conspicuous
figure in this scene of clamor and commotion, balancing be-
tween two equally pressing calls upon him, and deploring his
want of ubiquity. The first time he Avas pointed out to me,
he was in one of these predicaments, suspended like Garrick
in the picture between conflicting solicitations. On the one
side an able-bodied, boisterous catholic attorney, from the
county of Kerry, had laid his athletic gripe upon " the coun-
sellor," and swearing by some favorite saint, was fairly hauling
him along in the direction of the Exchequer ; on the other side
a more polished town-practitioner, of the established faith,
pointed with pathetic look and gesture to the Common Pleas,
and in tones of agony implored the learned gentleman to re-
member that " their case was actually on, and that if he were
not at his post, the court would grant the motion, costs and all,
against their client." On such occasions a counsel has a deli-
cate task ; but long habit enables him to assume a neutrality,
if he has it not. In the instance alluded to, I could not suffi-
ciently admire the intense impartiality manifested by the sub-
ject of contention toward each of the competitors for his learned
carcass; but the physical force of the man from Kerry, aided
perhaps by some local associations — for the counsellor is a
" Kerry -man" himself — prevailed over all the moral wooing
of his rival, and he carried off the prize.

The preceding are a few of the constant and ever-acting
elements of noise and motion in this busy scene ; but an extra
sensation is often given to the congregated mass. The cletec-

LEGAL PERSON A GKS. 61

tion of a pickpocket (I am not speaking figuratively) causes a
sudden and impetuous rush of Leads, with wigs and without
them, to the spot where the culprit has been caught inflagrante.
At other times the scene is diversified by a group of fine girls
from the country, coming, as they all make a point of doing, to
see the courts, and show themselves to the junior bar. A
crowd of young and learned gallants instantaneously collects,
and follows in their wake : even the arid veteran will start
from his legal revery as they pass along, or, discontinuing the
perusal of his deeds and counterparts, betray by a faint leer
that, with all his love of parchment, a fine skin, glowing with
the tints that life and nature gave it, has yet a more pre-
vailing charm. Lastly, I must not omit that the Hall is not
unfrequently thrown into " confusion worse confounded" by that
particular breach of his majesty's Irish peace, improperly
called a "horsewhipping." When an insult is to be avenged,
this place is often chosen for its publicity as the fittest scene
of castigation.

But this scene, though at first view the emblem of inextrica-
ble confusion, will yet, when frequently contemplated, assume
certain forms approaching to regular combination : thus, after
an attendance of a few days, if you perambulate the arena, or
stand upon some elevated point from which you can take in
the whole, you will recognise, especially among the members
of the bar, the same individuals, or classes, occupied or grouped
in something like an habitual manner. On the steps outside
the entrance to the Court of Chancery, your eye will probably
be caught by the imposing figure and the courteous and manly
features of Bushe,* waiting there till his turn comes to refute some
long winded argument going on within, and to which, as a piece
of forensic finesse, he affects a disdain to listen : or, near tho
same spot, you will light upon the less social but more pregnant
and meditative countenance of Plunket,t as he paces to and
fro alone, resolving some matter of imperial moment, until he
is roused from these more congenial musings, and hurries on to
court, at the call of the shrill-tongued crier, to simplify or em-

* Charles Kcndal Bushe, afterward lord chief-justice of Ireland. — ]VJ,
t f^ow Lord I'luuket, ex-lord chancellor of Ireland. — IVJf

62 HALL OF THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN.

barrass some question of equitable altercation : or, if it be a
nisi-prius day in any of the law-courts, you may observe out-
side, the delight of Dublin jurors, Mr. H. D. Grady, working
himself into a jovial humor against the coming statement, and
with all the precaution of an experienced combatant, squibbing
his "jury-eye," lest it should miss fire when he appears upon
the ground.

Or, to pass from individuals to groups, you will daily find,
and pretty nearly upon the same spot, the same little circles
or coteries, composed chiefly of the members of the junior bar,
as politics, or community of tastes, or family connections, may
bring them together. Among these you will readily distin-
guish those who by birth or expectations consider themselves
to be identified with the aristocracy of the country : you see it
in their more fashionable attire and attitudes, their joyous and
unworn countenances, and in the lighter topics of discussion
on which they can afford to indulge. At a little distance stands
a group of quite another stamp— pallid, keen-eyed, anxious
aspirants for professional employment, and generally to be
found in vehement debate over some dark and dreary point of
statute or common law, in the hope that, by violently rubbing
their opinions together, a light may be struck at last. A little
farther on you will come upon another, a group of learned veto-
ists. and anti-vetoists, where some youthful or veteran theolo-
gian is descanting upon the abominations of a schism, with a
running accompaniment of original remarks upon the politics
of the Vatican, and the character of Cardinal Gonsalvi. Close
to these again — but I find that I should never have done, were
I to attempt comprising within a single view the endless and
complicated details of this panoramic spectacle, or to specify
the proportions in which the several subjects discussed here
respectively contribute to form the loud and ceaseless buzz that
rises and reverberates through the roof.

This daily assemblage of the Irish Bar, in a particular spot,
enables you to estimate at a glance the extraordinary numbers
of that body, and to perceive what an enormous excess they
bear to the professional occupation which the country can by
uossibility afford- After all the Courts are filled to the brim,

HOPE DEFERRED. 63

there still remains a legal population to occupy the vast arena
without. I was particularly struck by the number of young
men (many of them, I was assured, possessed of fine talents,
which, if differently applied, must have forced their way) who
from term to term, and year to year, submit to " trudge the
Hall," waiting till their turn shall come at last, and too often
harassed by forebodings that it may never come. It was not
difficult to read their history in their looks : their countenances
wore a sickly, pallid, and jaded expression ,* the symbols of
hope deferred, if not extinguished ; there was even something,
as they sauntered to and fro, in their languid gait and unde-
cided movements, from which it could be inferred that their
sensations were melancholy and irksome. I was for some time
at a loss to account for this extreme disproportion between the
supply and the demand — so much greater than any ever
known to exist in England.

During my stay in Dublin, I accidentally fell into convei-
sation with an intelligent Irish gentleman, who in the early
part of his life had been connected for some years with the

* I have heard several medical men of Dublin speak of the air of the courts
and hall, as particularly unwholesome. Besides the impurity communicated
to the atmosphere by the crowds that collect there, the situation is low and
marshy. The building is so close to the river Liffey, that fears have been en
tertained for the safety of the foundation. Formerly, before the present quay
was constructed, the water in high tides sometimes made its way into the hall.
The mention of this reminds me of one or two of Curran's jokes : — upon one
occasion, not only the hall, but the subterraneous cellars in whicli the bar-dresses
are kept, were inundated. When the counsel went down to robe, they found
their wigs and gown afloat ; Curran, for whom a cause was waiting seized the
first that drifted within reach, and appeared in court, dripping like a river-god.
" Well, Mr. Curran," asked one of the judges, " how did you leave your friends
coming on below?" — " Swimmingly , my lord." In the course of the morning,
one of these learned friends (who, from missing his footing, had come in for a
thorough sousing) repeatedly protested to their lordships, that he should feel
ashamed to offer such and such arguments to the court. Curran, in reply, com-
plimented him upon his delicacy of feeling, which he represented as " truly a
high and rare strain of modesty, in one who had just been dipped in tJie Liffry"
[As an Irishman who has tViat facility of speech and compliment called " the
gift of the gal)," is usually mentioned as Inning kissed the Blarney-stone; so if
a native be particularly impudent (which is Impossible, of course!) it is said
titat he has been dipped in the Liffey — the river which runs through Dublin. — JVJ,

64 HALL OF THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN.

profession of the law. I mentioned what I had observed, and
asked for an explanation. He gave it pretty nearly as fol-
lows ; I am inclined to confide in what he stated as substan-
tially correct. — "Your remark is just, that our bar is griev-
ously overstocked ; and crowds of fresh members are flocking
to it every term, as if for the sole purpose, and certainly with
the effect, of starving one another. If the annual emoluments
of the profession were collected into a common fund, and
equally distributed among the body, the portion of each would
not exceed a miserable pittance. The inordinate preference
for the profession of the bar in Ireland arises from many
causes. As one of the chief, I shall mention the preposterous
ambition of our gentry, and their fantastic sensitiveness on the
article of ' family pride.' An Irish father's first anxiety is to
give his son a calling in every way befitting the ancient
dignity of his name; and in this point of view, the bar has
peculiar attractions. It is not merely that it may, by possi-
bility, lead to wealth, or perhaps, to a peerage or a seat in the
privy council — though these are never left out of the account
— but, independently of all this, an adventitious dignity has
been conferred upon it, as a profession, by the political circum-
stances of the country. Until the act of 1792, no Catholic
could become a barrister: all the emoluments and dignities
of the law were the exclusive property of the privileged few ;
and they were so considerable, that the highest families in the
kingdom rushed in to share them. This stamped an aristo-
cratic character and importance upon the profession. To be
a ' counsellor' in those days, was to be no ordinary personage.
Many of them belonged to noble houses ; many were men of
name and authority in the state; all of them, even the least
distinguished, caught a certain ray of glory from the mere act
of association with a favored class, contending for the most
dazzling objects of competition. Much of this has passed
away; but a popular charm, I should rather say a delusion,
still attaches to the name; and parents, duped by certain
vague and obsolete associations, continue to precipitate their
sons into this now most precarious career, without the least ad-
yerfence to their substantial prospects of success, and in uttej-

THE YOUNG BARRISTER. 65

ignorance of the peculiar habits and talents required to obtain
it. It is a common by-word with us, that ' no one who really
deserves to succeed at our bar, will fail.' This may be very
true; but what a complication of qualities, what a course of
privation, what trials of taste, and temper, and pride, are in
volved in that familiar and ill-understood assertion.

" A young barrister who looks to eminence from his own
sheer unaided merits, must have a mind and frame prepared
by nature for the endurance of unremitting toil. He must
cram his memory with the arbitrary principles of a complex
and incongruous code, and be equally prepared, as occasion
serves, to apply or misapply them. He must not only surpass
his competitors in the art of reasoning right from right prin-
ciples— the logic of common life; but he must be equally an
adept in reasoning right from wrong principles, and wrong
from right ones. He must learn to glory in a perplexing
sophistry, as in the discovery of an immortal truth. He must
make up his mind and his face to demonstrate, in open court,
with all imaginable gravity, that nonsense is replete with
meaning, and that the clearest meaning is manifestly non-
sense by construction. This is what is meant by 'legal habits
of thinking ;' and to acquire them, he must not only prepare
his faculties by a course of assiduous and direct cultivation,
but he must absolutely forswear all other studies and specula-
tions that may interfere with their perfection. There must be
no dallying with literature ; no hankering after comprehensive
theories for the good of men ; away must be wiped all such
'trivial fond records.' He must keep to his digests and in-
dexes. He must see nothing in mankind but a great collec-
tion of plaintiffs and defendants, and consider no revolution in
their affairs as comparable, in interest, to the last term reports
of points of practice decided in banco regis. As he walks the
streets, he must give way to no sentimental musings. There
must be no ' commercing with the skies;' no idle dreams of
love, and rainbows, and poetic forms, and all the bright illu-
sions upon which the ' fancy free' can feast. If a thought of
love intrudes, it must be connected with the law of marriage
settlements, and articles of separation from bed and board. So

66 HALL OF THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN.

of the other passions ; and of every the most interesting inci-
dent and situation in human life — he must view them all with
reference to their ' legal effect and operation.' If a funeral
passes by, instead of permitting his imagination to follow the
. mourners to the grave, he must consider how far the execu-
\ tor may not have made 'himself liable for a waste of assets, by
some supernumerary plumes and hatbands, beyond 'the state
and circumstances of the deceased;' — or if his eye should
light upon a requisition fora public meeting, to petition against
a grievance, he must regard the grievance as immaterial, but
bethink himself whether the wording of the requisition be
strictly warrantable, under the provisions of the Convention
Act.

" Such is a part, and a very small part, of the probationary
discipline to which the young candidate for forensic eminence
must be prepared to submit ; and if he can hold out for ten or
fifteen years, his superior claims may begin to be known and
rewarded. But success will bring no diminution of toil and
self-denial. The bodily and mental labor alone of a success-
ful barrister's life would be sufficient, if known beforehand, to
appal the stoutest. Besides this, it has its many peculiar rubs
and annoyances. His life is passed in a tumult of perpetual
contention, and he must make up his sensibility to give and
receive the hardest knocks. He has no choice of cases ; he
must throw himself heart and soul into the most unpromising
that is confided to him. He must fight pitched battles with ob-
streperous witnesses. He must have lungs to outclamor the
most clamorous. He must make speeches without materials.
He must keep battering for hours at a jury that he sees to be
impregnable. He is before the public, and at the mercy of
public opinion, and if every nerve be not strained to the utmost
to achieve what is impossible, the public, with its usual good-
nature, will attribute the failure to want of zeal or capacity in
the advocate — to anything rather than the badness of the
cause. Finally, he must appear to be sanguine, even after a
defeat; and be prepared to tell a knavish client, that has been
beaten out of the courts of common law, that his 'is a clear
case for relief in equity.' The man who can do all this de-

LEGAL OFFICE-SEEK KRS. 67

serves to succeed, and will succeed; but unless he be gifted
with the rare qualifications of such men as Curran,* Bushe, and
Plunket, or be lifted by those fortuitous aids upon which few
have a right to count, he can not rationally expect to arrive at
eminence in his profession upon less rigorous conditions.

" Hitherto," continued my informant, " I have been speaking
of such as come to the bar as simply and solely to a scene of
professional exertion ; but there is another and a still more
numerous class, who are sent to it for the sake of the lucrative
offices with which it abounds. It was no sooner discovered
that our bar was uninfluential, and likely, on occasions, to be
a troublesome body in the state, than the most decisive meas-
ures were taken to break its spirit. Places were multiplied
beyond all necessity and all precedent in England. By a
single act of Parliament, two and thirty judicial offices were
created, to be held by barristers of six years' standing, and
averaging each from five to eight hundred pounds a year.
This was one of the political measures of the late Lord Clare,t

* John Philpot Curran, formerly master of the rolls in Ireland (born in 1750,
and died in 1817), memorable alike for genius and geniality — eloquence and
patriotism — wit and pathos. His forensic exertions in defence of the victims
of arbitrary power, during the closing years of the last century, were alike fear-
less, independent, and chivalrous. — M.

t John Fitzgibbon, Earl of Clare, who is described by Barrington as a " des
pot and the greatest enemy Ireland ever had," was the son of a gentleman
in the county of Limerick, who had been a Roman catholic, and intended for
a priest, but changing his tenets, became an eminent barrister and member of
Parliament. It is untrue, as reported, that Fitzgibbon was originally poor and
of low birth ; one of his sisters married Mr. Jeffreys, the rich owner of Blarney
Castle, and is immortalized in song as

" Lady Jeffreys who owns this station.

Like Alexander or like Helen fair,
There's no commander throughout the nation,

In emulation can with her compare,"

and the other espoused Bercsford, Archbishop of Tuam. Born in 1749, John
Fitzgibbon entered Trinity college, Dublin, in 1763. where he was in the same
division with Henry Grattan, with whom he competed for collegiate honors,
many of which he obtained. It is not generally known that, after obtaining his
B. A. degree, he was a member of Christ Church, Oxford, having been admit-
ted ad. enndem, and became M. A. of the English university, in 1770. Admitted
barrister, in Dublin, he speedily obtained extensive practice. His fee-book

68 HALL OF THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN.

an able lawyer, and excellent private character ; but, like
many other sound lawyers and worthy gentlemen, a most
mischievous statesman. He had felt in his own experience
how far the receipt of the public money may extinguish a sen-
sibility to public abuses. And he planned and passed the
bar-bill. The same policy has been continued to the present
day. The profession teems with places of emolument; and
the consequence is, that every subdivision of the ' parliamen-
tary interest' deputes its representative, to get forward in the
ordinary way, as talents or chance may favor him, but at all
events to receive, in due time, his distributive portion of the
general patronage.

"I must add, as highly to the credit of the, Irish bar, that
their personal independence, in the discharge of their profes-
sional duties, has continued as it used to be in the best days
of their country. The remark applies to the general spirit of

showed that from June 19, 1772, when he commenced practice, until Decem-
ber, 1789, he received forty-five thousand nine hundred and twelve pounds
sterling, from his profession. In 1782 his income was six thousand, seven hun-
dred and two pounds sterling. In 1784, he was appointed Attorney-General,
owing his elevation as much to his political support of the Government, as
member of Parliament, as to his legal merit. On the death of Lord Chancel-
lor Lifford, in 1789, Mr. Fitzgibbon was appointed his successor (not without vio-
lent opposition from Thurlow, Chancellor of England, who contended that his
Irish birth should prevent his holding the highest law-office in Ireland), and
from that time until his death, in January, 1802, was virtually ruler of Ire-
land— intolerant, harsh, and unforgiving. In the earlier part of his career,
having fought a duel with Mr. Curran (at whom he took deliberate aim),
he continued his resentment after he became Judge, and let it be seen, by
contemptuous treatment and hostile decisions, that the great advocate had
not " the ear of the Court." In 1789, he was created Baron Fitzgibbon, in
the peerage of Ireland. In 1793, he was advanced to the rank of Viscount.
In 1795, he was made Earl of Clare, and was created an English Baron in
1799, in reward for his severity during the Rebellion of '98. He was appoint-
ed Vice-Chancellor of Dublin University, in 1791. Moore, in the auto-bio-
graphical prefaces to his poems, gives an interesting account of the searching
examination to which he and other young members of Trinity College were
subjected by Lord Clare under suspicion of holding " rebellious principles."
Implacable in his political and personal enmities, Lord Clare had few friends.
He ruled with a rod of iron, and for twelve years was hated by the bulk of the
Irish, whom he so much, and so long oppressed. — M.

PROFESSIONAL COURTESIES. 69

the entire body. There may be exceptions that escaped my
observation ; but I could perceive no symptoms of subserviency
— no surrender of the slightest tittle of their clients' rights to
the frowns or impatience of the bench. I was rather struck by
the peculiarly bold and decisive tone, with which, when occa-
sions arose, they asserted the privileges of the advocate.

" While I am upon this subject, I can not omit a passing
remark upon another quality, by which I consider the gentle-
men of this bar to be pre-eminently distinguished — the invari-
able courtesy of manners which they preserve amid all the
hurry and excitement of litigation. The present Chancellor
of Ireland,* himself a finished gentleman, was struck upon his
arrival ' by the peculiarly gentlemanlike manner in which he
observed business transacted in his court.' Mr. Bushe is the
great model of this quality. He hands up a point of law to
the bench with as much grace and pliancy of gesture, as if he
were presenting a court-lady with a fan. This excessive
finish is peculiar to himself; but the spirit which dictates it is
common to the entire profession. Scenes of turbulent alterca-
tion are inevitably frequent, and every weapon of disputation
— wit and sneers, and deadly brain-blows — must be employed
and encountered ; but the contest is purely intellectual : it is
extremely rare, indeed, that anything approaching to an
offensive personality escapes. No ultra-forensic warmth occurs
in the Irish courts. It is avoided on common principles of
good taste: it is also prevented, if I am rightly informed, by
the understood feeling that anything bordering upon personal
rudeness must infallibly lead to a settlement out of Court."f

When I first frequented the courts in Dublin, I went entirely
with the view of witnessing the specimens of forensic talent
displayed there. I found more than I had expected ; and one
circumstance that very forcibly struck me demands a few
words apart. I would recommend to any stranger wishing to

* The late Lord Manners. — M.

t Sir Jonah Barrington, in the amusing " Personal Sketches of his own
Time," dedicates a chapter to the Fire-eaters of Dublin, and gives a list of
leading personages (including about a dozen judges) who had fought duels in
his rime. He says : " The number of killed and wounded among the bar was
very considerable. The other learned professions suffered much less." — M.

70 HALL OF THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN".

obtain a thorough insight into the state of manners and morals
in the interior of Ireland, without incurring the risk of a visit
to the remoter districts, to attend, upon a few motion-days, in
any of the Irish courts of common-law. A large portion of
these motions relate to ineffectual attempts to execute the
process of the law ; and the facts that daily come out, offer a
frightful and most disgraceful picture of the lawless habits of
the lower, and also, I regret to add, of the higher orders of the
community. One of our judges in Westminster Hall would
start from his seat in wonder and indignation at the details of
scenes to which the Irish judges, from long familiarity, listen
almost unmoved, as to mere ordinary outrages of course. The
office of a process-server in Ireland appears to be, indeed, a
most perilous occupation, and one that requires no common
qualities in the person that undertakes it : he must unite the
courage and strength of the common soldier with the conduct
and skill in stratagem of the experienced commander; for wo
betide him, if he be deficient in either. The moment this
hostile herald of the law is known to be hovering on the con-
fines of a Connaught gentleman's domain (that sacred territory
into which his Majesty's writs have no right to run), the proud
blood of the defendant swells up to the boiling point, and he
takes the promptest measures to repel and chastise the intru-
der: he summons his servants and tenants to a council of war;
he stiffens their fidelity by liberal doses of "mountain-dew;"*
they swear they will stand by " his honor" to the last. Prep-
arations as against a regular siege ensue ; doors and windows
are barred ; sentinels stationed ; blunderbusses charged ; ap-
proved scouts are sent out to reconnoitre; and skirmishing
parties, armed with cudgels and pitchforks, are detached along
-every avenue of approach. Having taken these precautions,
the magnanimous defendant shuts himself up in his inmost
citadel to abide the issue. The issue may be anticipated ; the
messenger of the law is either deterred from coming near, or, if
he has the hardihood to face the danger, he is waylaid and

* Illicit whiskey — so called, from being generally distilled on the mountain-
ous tracts. [Sometimes called potheen, as made in a little pot, or Innoskowen,
from the locality where the best was produced. — M.J

OKATORY OF THE AFFIDAVIT. 71

beaten black and blue for his presumption : if he shows the
King's writ, it is torn from him, and flung back in fragments
in his face. Resistance, remonstrance, and entreaties, are all
unavailing; nothing remains for him but to effect his retreat,
if the power of moving be left him, to the nearest magistrate,
not in the interest of the defendant, where with the help of
some attorney that will venture to take a fee against "his
honor," he draws up a bulletin of his kicks and bruises in the
form of an affidavit, to ground a motion that " another writ do
issue;" or, as it might be more correctly worded, "that
another process-server do expose himself to as sound a thrash-
ing as the last." This is not an exaggerated picture ; and in
order to complete it, it should not be omitted that the instiga-
tor of the outrage, as soon as he can with safety appear abroad,
will, to a certainty, be found among the most clamorous for
proclamations and insurrection-acts, to keep down the lawless
propensities of his district.*

I have offered a specimen of Irish society, as I could collect
it from affidavits daily produced in court ; yet, shocking and
disgusting as the details are, I confess it is not easy to repress
a smile at the style in which those adventurous scenes are
described. The affidavits are generally the composition of
country attorneys. The maltreated process-server puts the
story of his injured feelings and beaten carcase into the hands

* Considerable ingenuity used to be exercised in the treatment of process
servers in Ireland. It was said, as a sort of boast, that " the King's writ would
not run in Connaught." This meant that nobody could serve it. To say of
any stranger, in that district, that he looked like a process-server, was to con-
demn him, at the least, to an utter impossibility of obtaining food, fire, and
lodging, whether for love or money. If a man were found with a copy of a
writ in his pocket, waiting the opportunity to serve it on a popular defendant,
he was simply condemned, in the first instance, to make a meal, scrap by scrap,
until they were consumed, of the parchment original and the paper copy. If
detected a second time, the common penalty was to have his ears cut off. A
lliird attempt was rarely made, the punishment being to take off the cul-
prit's shirt, hold him on the ground, and draw a thorny furzeJbush over hia
back, to and fro, until it was shockingly lacerated. This agreeable and humane
practice, which was called carding, chiefly prevailed in Tipperary. At present,
among other changes in Ireland, is the tolerance of legal satellites. Writs now
" run" in Connaught and Tipperary, quite as freely as in Devonshire or Dur-
ham.— M.

SALL OF fllti FOUR COURTS, DtJBLIN.

of one of these learned penmen ; and I must do them the
justice to say, that they conscientiously make the most of the
task confided to them. They have all a dash of national
eloquence about them ; the leading qualities of which, meta-
phor, pathos, sonorous phrase, impassioned delineation, &c.,
they liberally embody with the technical details of facts, form-
ing a class of oratory quite unknown to the schools — "The
Oratory of the Affidavit." What British adviser, for instance,
of matters to be given in on oath, would venture upon such a
poetical statement as the following, which I took down one
day in the Irish Court of Common Pleas: "And this depo-
nent farther saith, that on arriving at the house of the said
defendant, situate in the county of Gal way aforesaid, for the
purpose of personally serving him with the said writ, he the
said deponent knocked three several times at the outer, com-
monly called the hall-door, but could not obtain admittance ;
whereupon this deponent was proceeding to knock a fourth
time, when a man, to this deponent unknown, holding in his
hands a musket or blunderbuss, loaded with balls or slugs, as
this deponent has since heard and verily believes, appeared at
one of the upper windows of said house, and, presenting said
musket or blunderbuss at this deponent, threatened, that ' if
said deponent did not instantly retire, he would send his,
this deponent's, soul to hell ;' which this deponent verily believes
he would have done — had not this deponent precipitately es-
caped."

DANIEL O'CONNELL.

IP any one, being a stranger in Dublin, should cliance, as
you return upon a winter's morning from one of the " small
and early" parties of that raking metropolis — that is to say,
between the hours of five and six o'clock — to pass along the
south side of Merrion Square,* you will not fail to observe that
among those splendid mansions there is one evidently tenanted
by a person whose habits differ materially from those of his
fashionable neighbors. The half-opened parlor-shutter, and
the light within, announce that some one dwells there whose
time is too precious to permit him to regulate his rising with
the sun's. Should your curiosity tempt you to ascend the
steps, and, under cover of the dark, to reconnoitre the interior,
you will see a tall, able-bodied man, standing at a desk, and
immersed in solitary occupation. Upon the wall in front of
him there hangs a crucifix. From this, and from the calm at-
titude of the person within, and from a certain monastic rotun-
dity about his neck and shoulders, your first impression will
be, that he must be some pious dignitary of the Church of
Rome absorbed in his matin devotions.

But this conjecture will be rejected almost as soon as formed.
No sooner can the eye take in the other furniture of the apart-
ment— the book-cases clogged with tomes in plain calf-skin
binding, the blue-covered octavos that lie about on the tables
and the floor, the reams of manuscript in oblong folds and be-
girt with crimson tape — than it becomes evident that the
party meditating amid such objects must be thinking far more

* One of the principal squares in Dublin, in which Mr. O'ConnelJ resided
for about thirty years. — M.

VOL. I.— 4

74: DANIEL o'cONNELL.

of the law than the prophets. He is, unequivocally, a bams
tcr, but apparently of that homely, chamber-keeping, plodding
cast, who labor hard to make up by assiduity what they want
in wit — who are up and stirring before the bird of the morning
has sounded the retreat to the wandering spectre — and are
already brain-deep in the dizzying vortex of mortgages and
cross-remainders, and mergers and remitters ; while his clients,
still lapped in sweet oblivion of the law's delay, are fondly
dreaming that their cause is peremptorily set down for a final
hearing. Having come to this conclusion, you push on for
home, blessing your stars on the way that you are not a law-
yer, and sincerely compassionating the sedentary drudge whom
you have just detected in the performance of his cheerless toil.
But should you happen, in the course of the same day, to
stroll down to the Four Courts, you will be not a little sur-
prised to find the object of your pity miraculously transferred
from the severe recluse of the morning into one of the most
bustling, important, and joyous personages, in that busy scene.
There you will be sure to see him, his countenance braced up
and glistening with health and spirits* — with a huge, plethoric
bag, which his robust arms can scarcely sustain, clasped with
paternal fondness to his breast — and environed by a living
palisade of clients and attorneys, with outstretched necks, and
mouths and ears agape, to catch up any chance- opinion that
may be coaxed out of him in a colloquial way, or listening to
what the client relishes still better (for in no event can they
be slided into a bill of costs), the counsellor's bursts of jovial
and familiar humor, or, when he touches on a sadder strain,
his prophetic assurances that the hour of Ireland's redemption
is at hand. You perceive at once that you have lighted upon
a great popular advocate ; and if you take the trouble to follow
his movements for a couple of hours through the several Courts,
you will not fail to discover the qualities that have made him
so — his legal competency — his business-like habits — his san-

* O'Connell was a man of lofty stature, strong build, general good health,
and accustomed to a great deal of exercise. His three months' imprisonment in
Richmond Penitentiary, after the State Trials of 1844, may be said to have
broken up his strong constitution. The prisoned eagle pined for want of its
touted free range over mountain, plain, and valley. — M.

VERSATILITY AND UBIQUITY. 5

gtiine temperament, which renders him not merely the advo-
cate but the partisan of his client — his acnteness — his fluency
of thought and language — his unconquerable good-humor —
and, above all, his versatility.

By the hour of three, when the judges usually rise, you will
have seen him go through a quantity of business, the prepara-
tion for and performance of which, would be sufficient to wear
down an ordinary constitution, and you naturally suppose that
the remaining portion of the day must of necessity be devoted
to recreation or repose : but here, again, you will be mistaken ;
for should you feel disposed, as you return from the Courts, to
drop in to any of the public meetings that are almost daily
held for some purpose, or to no purpose, in Dublin, to a cer-
tainty you will find the counsellor there before you, the presi-
ding spirit of the scene, riding in the whirlwind, and directing
the storm of popular debate, with a strength of lungs, and re-
dundancy of animation, as if he had that moment started fresh
for the labors of the day. There he remains until, by dint of
strength or dexterity, he has carried every point; and thence,
if you would see him to the close of the day's "eventful his-
tory," you will, in all likelihood, have to follow him to a pub-
lic dinner, from which, after having acted a conspicuous part
in the turbulent festivity of the evening, and thrown off half a
dozen speeches in praise of Ireland, he retires at a late hour
to repair the wear and tear of the day by a short interval of
repose, and is sure to be found before dawn-break next morn-
ing at his solitary post, recommencing the routine of his rest-
less existence. Now, any one who has once seen, in the pre-
ceding situations, the able-bodied, able-minded, acting, talking,
multifarious person I have been just describing, has no occa-
sion to inquire his name : he may be assured that he is, and
can be, no other than " Kerry's pride and Munster's glory,"
the far-famed and indefatigable DANIEL O'CONNELL.

Mr. O'Connell was born about eight-and-forty years ago, in
that part of the united kingdoms of Ireland and Kerry, called
Kerry.* He is said to be descended in a mathematically and

*This sketch appeared in 1823. Danirl O'Connell, born August 6, 1775,
died on the 15th of Mny, 1847, in his sfventy-s^cond yrar. Ho was of a long

morally straight line from the ancient kings ot Ivern, one of
the kingdoms of the county of Kerry. The discrowned fam-
ily, however, have something better than the saddening boast

lived family, for his uncle Maurice, from whom he inherited Derrynane abbey,
was 97, at his death, in 1825 ; and another uncle; General O'Connell, in the
French service, and grand-cross of the order of St. Louis, died in 1834, aged
91. He was then not only a general in the French, but oldest colonel in the
English service, and the present military tactics of Europe emanated, in 1787,
from a military board in which he was the lowest in rank, but highest in abil-
ity. In Easter Term, 1798 (a few months before the " Rebellion"), O'Connell
was called to the Irish bar, and his ability and industry soon obtained him
business. In 1802, he married his cousin. He opposed the Union, and in
1809, commenced his public agitation for Catholic emancipation. He became
a leader of the Catholic Board, and when that body was put down by the Irish
government, while others silently submitted, O'Connell assumed the leadership
and published the first of his annual letters to the people of Ireland, headed
with the motto, from Childe Harold,

" Hereditary bondsmen, know ye not,
Whp would be free, themselves must strike the blow."

At aggregate and other public meetings of the Catholics, he was the chief speak-
er and doer, for years. In 1815, he was forced into a duel with Mr. D'Esterre,
one of the city of Dublin corporation, and the assailant fell. A subsequent mis-
understanding with Mr. (the late Sir Robert) Peel, then Secretary for Ireland,
led to a challenge, but the duel was prevented by the arrest of O'Connell, on
his way to Calais, whither Peel had gone, as beyond the jurisdiction of British
law. At that time, O'Connell determined never again to become a combatant.
From 1815, until 1831, when he left the bar, his professional income averaged
from six thousand to eight thousand pounds sterling a year, and on his uncle's
death in 1825, he succeeded to landed property estimated at four thousand
pounds sterling per annum. He was, beyond all doubt, the best general law-
yer in Ireland. In 1821, on the visit of George IV. to Ireland, he played the
courtier — more genially than gracefully. In 1823, he founded the Catholic
Association, in conjunction with Mr. Sheil — organized the catholic rent, by
which the battle of the people was fought at the election hustings — formed
one of a deputation to England, to adjust the catholic claims — committed the
error of consenting to accept emancipation, cJogged with " the wings" (i. e.
state payment of the catholic clergy, and confiscation of the forty shillings sterl
ing elective franchise) was baffled by the intolerants — ventured in 1828, on the
boM expedient of contesting the Clare election, against a popular member
of the Wellington cabinet — was elected, and thereby forced Wellington to
concede Emancipation, in 1829 — had a seat in parliament until his death —
was of great weight as a public man, by reason of his eloquence, tact, and in-
fluence, carrying forty Irish members with him in a division — aided the Mel-
bourne ministry against Peel — was offered and declined a seat on the judicial
bench, as Master of the Rolls in Ireland — carried on the " Repeal" agitation,

HIS ORIGINAL DESTINATION. 77

of regal descent to prop their pride. His present ex-Majesty
of Ivera, Mr. Daniel O'Connell's uncle, bas a territorial reve-
nue of four or five thousand a year to support the dignity of
his traditional throne; while the numerous princes of the
blood, dispersed through the dominions of their fathers, in the
characters of tenants in fee-simple, opulent leaseholders, or
sturdy mortgagees in possession, form a compact and powerful
squirearchy, before whose influence the proud " descendants
of the stranger" are often made to bow their necks, in the
angry collisions of county politics. The subject of the present
notice is understood to be the heir-apparent to his uncle's pdt-
sessions. These he must soon enjoy, for his royal kinsman has
passed his ninetieth year.* In the meantime he rules in his
own person an extensive tract among the Kerry hills — of little
value, it is said, in point of revenue, but dear to the possessor
as the residence of the idol of his heart, and in truth almost
the only tenant on three fourths of the estate —

" The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty."

Mr. O'Connell was originally intended for the Church, or,
more strictly speaking, for the Chapel. He was sent, accord-
ing to the necessities of the time, to be educated at St. Omer;
for in those days the wise government of Ireland would not
allow the land of Protestant ascendency to be contaminate^!
by a public school of Catholic theology. Dr. Duigenan Avas
compelled to permit the detested doctrines to be freely preached ;
but to make the professors of them good subjects, he shrewdly
insisted that they should still, as of old, be forced to cross the
seas, and lay in a preliminary stock of Irish loyalty at a for-
eign university. But the dread of indigenous theology was

dining all this time — was prosecuted for presumed overt-acts, in 1843, and con-
demned, with others, after a trial which lasted twenty-five days — was convict
ed — had the judgment reversed, by the House of Lords, after he and his friends
had been three months in prison, and, soon after, saw his own moderate policy
opposed by the bolder leaders of the " Young Ireland" party, whereby his own
popularity declined — suffered from declining health — went to Italy, and died
at Genoa, before he could reach Rome, " the City of the Soul" to so earnest a
Catholic as he wae. — M.

* Maurice O'Connell did not die until 1825, two years after this sketch ap-
peared.— M.

78

not peculiar to that great man*. I observe tliat some English
statesmen have discovered that all the disasters of Ireland
have been caused by an invisible establishment of Jesuits, and
must continue until the omnipotence of Parliament chall expel
thf*. intruders — a felicitous insight into cause and effect, resem-
bling that of the orthodox crew of a British packet, who, having
discovered, during a gale of wind, that a Methodist preacher
was among the passengers, at 'once made up their minds that
the fury of the tempest would never abate until the vessel
should be exorcised by heaving the nonconformist overboard.

*"'! have not heard what occasioned Mr. O'Oonnell to change
his destination. He probably had the good sense to feel that
he had too much flesh and blood for a cloister; and the nov-
elty of a legal career to a Catholic (for the Bar had just been
opened to his persuasion) must have had its attractions. He
accordingly left St. Omer, with its casuistry, and fasting, and
vesper-hymns, to less earthly temperaments ; and having swal-
lowed the regular number of legs of mutton at the Middle
Temple, was duly admitted to the Irish Bar in Easter term,
1798. The event has justified his choice. With all the im-
pediments of his religion and his politics, his progress was
rapid. He is now, and has been for many years, as high in
his profession as it is possible for a Catholic to ascend.

Mr. O'Counell, if not the ablest, is certainly the most singu-
lar man at the Irish Bar. He is singular, not merely in the
vigor of his faculties, but in their extreme variety and apparent
inconsistency; and the same may be said of his character.
The elements of both are so many and diverse, that it would
seem as if half a dozen varieties of the human species, and

* Patrick Duigenan, LL.D, remai-kable even amid Irish absolutism and ultra-
Protestantism, for his defence of arbitrary power and his rank intolerance. He
was the bosom friend and abettor of Lord Clare, the chanceii&i of Ireland,
and was his adviser and agent, in public matters, for many years. Dr.
Duigenan was born in 1735, of humble parents and died in 1816. Called to
the bar, he became King's advocate in, and subsequently Judge of, the Prerog-
ative Court, in Dublin. He was also vicar-general of the Arch-diocese of
Armagh, Member of Parliament, Doctor of Laws, and a Privy Councillor. He
was a pamphleteer of more fecundity tl an force, and one of the most violent
anti-Catholic partisans of his day. — M.

HIS APPEARANCE. 79

these not always on the best terms with each other, had lieen
capriciously huddled together into a single frame to make up
his strange and complex identity ; and hence it is, that, though
he is a favorable subject for a sketch, I find the task of accu-
rate delineation to be far less easy than I anticipated. It
have the man before me, and willing enough, it would appear,/,
that his features should be commemorated ; but, like the poor/
artist that had to deal with the frisky philosopher of Ferney,*
with all my efforts I can not keep him steady to any single
posture or expression. I see him distinctly aj; one moment a
hard-headed working lawyer, the next a glowing politician,
the next an awful theologian ; his features now sunk into the
deepest shade of patriotic anguish, now illuminated, no one
can tell why, as for the celebration of a national triumph. A
little while back I caught him in his character of a sturdy re-
former, proclaiming the constitution, and denouncing the vices
of courts and kings, and he promised me that he would keep
to that; but, before I had time to look about me, there he was,
off to the levee ! be-bagged and be-sworded like any oppres-
sor of them all, playing off his loyal looks and anti-radical
bows, as if he was to be one of Mr. Blake'sf next baronets, or
as if he had not sufficiently proved his attachment to, the
throne by presenting his majesty with a crown of Irish laurel

* Francis Marie Arouet de Voltaire, born in 1694, died 1778. He was im-
prisoned in the Bastille, in 1716, on suspicion of having libelled the Govern-
ment. Here he planned his poem of the " Henriade," and wrote the tragedy
of (Edipus, acted in 1718, with marked success. Henceforth his career was
wholly literary, but his political and philosophical opinions constantly set him ai
issue with " the powers that be," and much of his time was passed in exile. In
1743, his play of " Mcrope" was so well received at Paris, that he was ap
pointed gentleman of the King's bed-chamber, and historiographer of France
In 1750, he went to Berlin, on a visit to Frederic of Prussia, with whom he
speedily quarrelled. Finally he retired to the village of Ferney, in Switzerland,
where he lived during the rest of his life, with Madame Denis, his niece. His
works, in seventy octavo volumes, include nearly all departments of polite lit-
erature— chiefly poetry, history, biography, fiction, philosophy, criticism, and
the drama. A few days before his death, he was publicly crowned with laurel
on the stage of the theatre in Paris. — M.

t Mr. Blake, who filled the lucrative office of Chief Remembrancer of the
Court of Exchequer, was a Catholic who contrived to be " hand and glove" j
with all parties, with his sincerity questioned by none. — M.

80

on the beach of Dunleary.* Such a compound can be describ-
ed only by enumerating its several ingredients ; and even
here I am not sure that my performance, if rigidly criticised,
may not turn out, like my subject, to be occasionally at vari-
ance with itself. I shall begin with (what in other eminent
lawyers is subordinate) his individual and extra-professional
peculiarities ; for in O'Connell these are paramount, and act a
leading part in every scene, whether legal or otherwise, of his
complicated avocations.

His frame is tall, expanded, and muscular; precisely such
as befits a man of the people — for the physical classes ever
look with double confidence and affection upon a leader who
represents in his own person the qualities upon which they
rely. In his face he has been equally fortunate ; it is ex-
tremely comely. The features are at once soft and manly ;
the florid glow of health and a sanguine temperament is dif-
fused over the whole countenance, which is national in the
outline, and beaming with national emotion. The expression
is open and confiding, and inviting confidence ; there is not a
trace of malignity or wile — if there were, the bright and
sweet blue eyes, the most kindly and honest-looking that can
be conceived, would repel the imputation. These popular gifts
of nature O'Connell has not neglected to set off by his exter-
nal carriage and deportment — or, perhaps, I should rather
say, that the same hand which has moulded the exterior has
supersaturated the inner man with a fund of restless propen-
sity, which it is quite beyond his power, as it is certainly be-
side his inclination, to control. A large portion of this is ne-
cessarily expended upon his legal avocations ; but the labors
of the most laborious of professions can not tame him into re-
pose : after deducting the daily drains of the study and the
courts, there remains an ample residuum of animal spirits and
ardor for occupation, which go to form a distinct, and, I might
say, a predominant character — the political chieftain. The
existence of this overweening vivacity is conspicuous in O'Oon-
nelPs manners and movements, and being a popular, and more

* After the visit of George IV. in 1821, Dunleary (the port of Dublin) 30-
twned and keeps the name of Kingston. — M.

HIS LEGAL QUALIFICATIONS. 81

particularly a national quality, greatly recommends him to the
Irish people — " Mobilitate viget" — body and soul are in a
state of permanent insurrection.

See him in the streets, and you perceive at once that he is a
man who has sworn that his country's wrongs shall be avenged.
A Dublin jury (if judiciously selected) would fini his very gait
and gestures to be high treason by construction so explicitly
do they enforce th« national sentiment, of "Ireland her own,
or the world in a blaze." As he marches to court, he shoulders
his umbrella as if it were a pike. He flings out one factious
foot before the other, as if he had already burst his bonds, and
was kicking the Protestant ascendency before him ; while
ever and anon a democratic, broad-shouldered roll of the upper
man, is manifestly an indignant effort to shuffle off " the op-
pression of seven hundred years." This intensely national
sensibility is the prevailing peculiarity in O'Oohnell's char-
acter; for it is not only when abroad, and in the popular gaze,
that Irish affairs seem to press on his heart: the same Erin-
go-bragh feeling follows him into the most technical details of
his forensic occupations. Give him the most dry and abstract
position of law to support — the most remote that imagination
can conceive from the violation of the Articles of Limerick, or
the rape of the Irish parliament, and, ten to one, but he will
contrive to interweave a patriotic episode upon those examples
of British domination. The people are never absent from his
thoughts. He tosses up a bill of exceptions to a judge's charge
in the name of Ireland, and pockets a special retainer with the
air of a man that dotes upon his country. There is, perhaps,
some share of exaggeration in all this ; but much less, I do
believe, than is generally suspected, and I apprehend that he
would scarcely pass for a pa'triot without it ; for, in fact, he has
been so successful, and looks so contented, and his elastic,
unbroken spirits, are so disposed to bound and frisk for very
joy — in a word, he hae naturally so bad a face for a grievance,
that his political sincerity might appear equivocal, were there
not some clouds of patriotic grief or indignation to temper the
sunshine that is for ever bursting through them.

As a professional man O'Comiell is, perhaps, for general

4*

82 DANIEL

business, the most competent advocate at the Irish bar. Every
requisite for a barrister of all-work is combined in him; some
in perfection — all in sufficiency. He is not understood to be
a deep scientific lawyer. He is, what is far better for himself
and his clients, an admirably practical one. He is a thorough
adept in all the complicated and fantastic forms with which
Justice, like a Chinese monarch, insists that her votaries shall
approach her. A suitor advancing toward her throne, can not
go through the evolutions of the- indispensable Ko-lou under a
more skilful master of the ceremonies. In this department
of his profession, the knowledge of the practice of the courts,
and in a perfect familiarity witli the general principles of law
that are applicable to questions discussed in open court, O'Con-
nell is on a level with the most experienced of his competitors;'
and with few exceptions, perhaps with the single one of Mr.
Plunket, he surpasses them all in the vehement and perti-
nacious talent with which he contends to the last for victory,
or, where victory is impossible, for an honorable retreat. If
his mind had been duly disciplined, he would have been a
first-rate reasoner and a most formidable sophist. He has all
the requisites from nature — singular clearness, promptitude,
arid acuteness. When occasion requires, he evinces a meta-
physical subtlety of perception which nothing can elude.
I The most slippery distinction that glides across him, he can
/grasp and hold " pressis manubus," until lie pleases to set it
; free. But his argumentative powers lose much of their effect
from want of arrangement. His thoughts have too much of
the impatience of conscious strength to submit to an orderly
disposition. Instead of moving to the conflict in compact
array, they rush forward like a tumultuary insurgent mass,
jostling and overturning one another in the confusion of the
charge; and, though finally beating down all opposition by
sheer strength and numbers, still reminding us of the far
greater things they might have achieved had they been better
drilled.

But O'Connell has, by temperament, a disdain of everything
that is methodical and sedate. You can see this running
through his whole deportment in court. I never knew a learn-

HIS DEMEANOR IN COURT. S3

ed personage who resorted so little to the ordinary tricks of
his vocation. As he sits waiting till his turn comes to "blaze
away," he appears totally exempt from the usual throes and
heavings of ammo-gestation. There is no hermetically-sealing
of the lips, as if nothing less could restrain the fermentation
within; there are no trances of abstraction, as if the though la
had left their home on a distant voyage of discovery ; no
haughty swellings of the mind into alto-relievos on the learned
brow; — there is nothing of this about O'Connell. On the
contrary, his countenance and manner impress you with the
notion, that he looks forward to the coining effort as a pastime
in which he takes delight. Instead of assuming the " Sir
Oracle," he is all gayety and good-humor, and seldom fails
to disturb the gravity of the proceedings by a series of disor-
derly jokes, for which he is duly rebuked by his antagonists
with a solemnity of indignation that provokes a repetition
of the offence ; but his insubordinate levity is, for the most
part, so redeemed by his imperturbable good-temper, that even
the judges, when compelled to interfere and pronounce him
out of order, are generally shaking their sides as heartily as the
most enraptured of his admirers in the galleries. In the
midst, however, of this seeming carelessness, his mind is, in
reality, attending with the keenest vigilance to the subject-
matter of discussion ; and the contrast is often quite amusing.
While his eyes are wantoning around the court in search of
an object to be knocked down by a blow of his boisterous play-
fulness, or, m a more serious mood, while he is sketching on
the margin of his brief the outline of an impossible republic,
or running through a rough calculation of the number of Irish-
men capable of bearing pikes, according to the latest returns
of the population — if the minutest irregularity or misstatement
is attempted on the other side, up he is sure to start with all
imaginable alertness, and, reassuming the advocate, puts for-
ward his objection, with a degree of vigor and perspicuity
which manifests that his attention had not wandered for an
instant from the business before him.

Mr. O'Connell is in particular request in jury-cases. There
he is hi his "element, Next to the "harp of his country," ai>

84. DANIEL O'CONNELL.

Irish jury is the instrument on which he delights to play ; and
no one better understands its qualities and compass. I have
already glanced at his versatility. It is here that it is dis-
I played. His powers as a Nisi-Prius advocate, consist not so
much in the perfection of any of the qualities necessary to the
a;-t of persuasion, as in the number of them that he has at
command, and the skill with which he selects and adapts them
to the exigency of each particular case. He has a thorough
knowledge of human nature, as it prevails in the class of men
whom he has to mould to his purposes. I know of no one that
exhibits a more quick and accurate perception of the essential
peculiarities of the Irish character. It is not merely with ref-
erence to their passions that he understands them, though here
he is pre-eminently adroit. He can cajole a dozen of miser-
able corporation-hacks into the persuasion that the honor of
their country is concentrated in their persons. His mere acting
on such occasions is admirable : no matter how base and
stupid, and how poisoned by political antipathy to himself, he
may believe them to be, he affects the most complimentary
I ignorance of their real characters. He hides his scorn and
contempt under a look of unbounded reliance. He addresses
them with all the deference due to upright and high-minded
jurors. He talks to them of " the eyes of all Europe," and
the present gratitude of Ireland, and the residuary blessings
of posterity, with the most perfidious command of counte-
nance. In short, by dint of unmerited commendations, he
belabors them into the belief that, after all, they have some
reputation to sustain, and sets them chuckling with anticipated
exultation, at the honors with which a verdict according to the
evidence is to consecrate their names.

But, in addition to the art of heating the passions of his
hearers to the malleable point, O'Connell manifests powers of
observation of another, and, for general purposes, a more valu-
able kind. He knows that strange modification of humanity
the Irish mind, not only in its moral, but in its metaphysical
'peculiarities. Throw him upon any particular class of men
, and you would imagine that he must have lived among them
aJJ Jus. life, so intuitively does he accommodate his style o/

SIS JtTRY SPEKdHES. 85

argument to their particular modes of thinking and reasoning.
He knows the exact quantity of strict logic which they will
bear or can comprehend. Hence (where it serves his purpose),
instead of attempting to drag them along with him, whether
they will or no, by a chain of unbroken demonstration, he has
the address to make them imagine that their movements are
directed solely by themselves. He pays their capacities the
compliment of not making things too clear. Familiar with the '
habitual tendencies of their minds, he contents himself with
throwing off rather materials for reasoning than elaborate rea-
sonings— mere fragments, or seeds of thought, which, from his(
knowledge of the soil in which they drop, he confidently pre- [
diets will shoot up and expand into precisely the conclusions
that he wants. This method has the disadvantage, as far as
personally regards the speaker, of giving the character of more
than his usual looseness and irregularity to O'ConnelPs jury-
speeches; but his client, for whom alone he labors, is a gainer
by it — directly in the way I have been stating, and indirectly
for this reason, that it keeps the jury in the dark as to the
points of the case in which he feels he is weak. By abstain-/
ing from a show of rigorous demonstration, where all the argu-l
ment is evidently upon his side, he excites no suspicion by 1
keeping at an equal distance from top-ics which he could not |
venture to approach. This, of course, is not to be taken as
O'ConnelFs invariable manner, for he has no invariable man-
ner, but as a specimen of that dexterous accommodation of par- >
ticular means to a particular end, from which his general
powers as a Nisi-Prms advocate may be inferred. And so, too,
of the tone in which he labors to extort a verdict ; for though
when compelled by circumstances, he can be soft and soothing,
as I have above described him, yet on other occasions, where
it can be done with safety, he does not hesitate to apprise a
jury, whose purity he suspects, of his real opinion of their
merits, and indeed, not unfrequently, in the roundest terms
defies them to balance for an instant between their malignant
prejudices and the clear and resistless justice of the case.

There is one, the most difficult, it is said, and certainly theC
most anxious and responsible part of an advocate's duties, in!

$6 DANIEL O^CONNFLL.

which O'Connell is without a rival at the Irish Bar — I allude
to his skill in conducting defences in the Crown court. His
ability in this branch of his profession illustrates one of those
inconsistencies in his character to which I have already ad-
verted. Though habitually so bold and sanguine, he is here

, a model of forethought and undeviating caution. In his most

I rapid cross-examinations, he never puts a dangerous question.

/ He presses a witness upon collateral facts, and beats him
down by arguments and jokes and vociferation ; but wisely
presuming his client to be guilty until he has the good luck to
escape conviction, he never affords the witness an opportunity
of repeating his original narrative, and perhaps by supplying
an omitted item, of sealing the doom of the accused.

O'Connell's ordinary style is vigorous and copious, but in-
correct. The want of compactness in his periods, however, I
attribute chiefly to inattention. He has phrase in abundance
at command, is sensible of melody. Every now and then he
throws off sentences not only free from all defect, but ex-
tremely felicitous specimens of diction. As to his general
powers of eloquence, he rarely fails in a case admitting of emo-
tion, to make a deep impression upon a jury; and in a popular
assembly he is supreme. Still there is much more of elo-
quence in his manner' and topics than in his conceptions. He

j unquestionably proves, by occasional bursts, that the elements
of oratory, and perhaps of the highest order, .are about him ;
but he has had too many pressing demands of another kind to
distract him from the cultivation of this the rarest of all attain-
ments, and accordingly I am not aware that any of his efforts,
however able and successful, have deserved, as examples of
public speaking, to survive the occasion. His manner, though
far from graceful, is earnest and impressive. It has a steady
and natural warmth, without any of that snappish animation
in which gentlemen of the long robe are prone to indulge.
His voice is powerful, and the intonations full and graduated.
I understand that when he first appeared at the Bar, his accent
at once betrayed his foreign education. To this day there is a
remaining dash of Foigardism in his pronunciation of particular
words; but, on the whole, he has brought himself, as far as

AS A POPULAR LEADEfc. &?

delivery is concerned, to talk pretty much like a British sub-
ject.

It was my original intention to have dwelt in some detail
upon O'Connell, as a popular leader, but I have no longer
space, and I could scarcely effect my purpose without plunging
into that " sea of troubles," the present politics of Ireland : yet a
word or two upon the subject before I have done. Indeed, in
common fairness, I feel bound to correct any depreciating in-
ferences that may be drawn from the tone of levity in which
I may have glanced at some traits of his public deportment,
and which I should have hesitated to indulge in, if I had not
given him credit for the full measure of good-humor and good
sense, that can discriminate at once (should these pages meet
his eye) between an inoffensive sally and a hostile sneer.

O'Connell has been now [1823J for three and twenty years
a busy actor upon an agitated scene. During that period no
public character has been more zealously extolled, or more
cordially reviled. Has the praise or blame been excessive, or
has either been undeserved? Has he been a patriot, or an
incendiary ? for, such are the extreme points of view in which
the question of his merits has been discussed by persons too
impassioned and too interested in the result to pronounce a
sound opiiXon upon it. To one, however, who has never been'
provoked to admire or hate him to excess, the solution may
not be difficult. After reviewing the whole of O'ConnelPs
career as a politician, an impartial observer will be disposed
to say of him, that he was a man of a strong understanding
and of stronger feelings, occupied incessantly, and almost
always without due preparation, upon questions where it would
have perplexed the wisest to discern the exact medium be-
tween disgraceful submission and factious importunity — that
by necessity a partisan, he has been steady to his cause, and
consistent in his ultimate object, though many times inconsis-
tent in the adoption of the means to obtain it; and that now
in the long run, after all the charges of violence and indiscre-
tion that have been heaped upon him, it is questioned by somo
of the clearest understanding in England, whether, in the
present state of political morals, a more courtly policy than

88 bANTKL o'cONNELl.

O'Goimell's either is, or was ever calculated to advance the
interests of his body.

Leaving his political incentives aside, and referring solely
to the personal provocations to which he is daily exposed, I
should say, that it would be utterly unnatural in such a man
to be other than violent. To O'Oonnell, as a barrister, his
disqualification is a grievous injustice. It is not in theory
alone that it operates. It visits him in the practical details
of his professional life, and in forms the most likely to gall a
man of conscious powers and an ambitious temperament.
He has the mortification of being incessantly reminded that,
for years past, his fortunes have been absolutely at a dead
stop, while he was constantly condemned to see men who
started with him and after him, none of them his superiors,
many of them far beneath him, partially thrust before him,
and lifted into stations of honor and emolument to which he is
forbidden to aspire. The stoutest adversary of papal en-
croachments must admit, that there is something irritating in
this ; for my part, instead of judging harshly of the spirit in
which he retaliates, I rather honor the man for the energy
with which he wrestles to the last with the system that would
keep him down ; and if now and then his resistance assumes
such a form as to be in itself an evil, I am not sorry, for the
sake of freedom and humanity, to see it proved that intolerant
laws can not be enforced without inconvenience. But in gen-
eral (to speak the truth) O'Connell's vengeance is not of a very
deadly description. He is, after all, a man of a kindly and
forgiving nature : and where the general interests of his country
are not concerned, is disposed to resent his personal wrongs
with great command of temper. His forbearance in this re-
spect is really creditable to him, and the more so as it meets
with no return.

The admirers of King Willinm have no mercy for a man,
who, in his seditious moods, is so provoking as to tell the world
that their idol was " a Dutch adventurer." Then his intolera-
ble success in a profession where many a stanch Protestant is
condemned to starve, and his fashionable house in Merrion-
S(juare, and a greater eye sore still, his dashing revolutionary

WITHIN TttE LAW $9

equipage, green carriage, green liveries, and turbulent Popish
steeds, prancing over a Protestant pavement to the terror of
Protestant passengers — a nuisance that in the good old times
would have been put down by Act of Parliament — these and
other provocations of equal publicity, have exposed this learned
culprit to the deep and irrevocable detestation of a numerous
class of his Majesty's hating subjects in Ireland. And the
feeling is duly communicated to the public. The loyal press
of Dublin teems with the most astounding imputations upon his
character and motives. As a dish for the periodical libellers
of the day, O'Connell is quite a cut-and-come-again, from the
crazy Churchman, foaming over the apprehended fall of tithes,
down to the political striplings of the College, who, instead of
trying their youthful genius upon the cardinal virtues, or " the
lawfulness of killing Caesar," devote their hours of classic
leisure to the more laudable task of demonstrating, for the
comfort of the Orange lodges, that " Counsellor O'Connell
carries on a treasonable correspondence with Captain Rock."
But the Counsellor, who happens to know a little more of the
law of high treason than his accusers, has the good sense to
laugh at them and their threats of the hangman. Now that
all practical attempts upon life have been abandoned,* he
bears the rest with true Christian patience and contempt; and
whenever any of his defamers recant " in extremis" and die
good Catholics, as the most bigoted among them are said to

* I allude to what was really a shocking occurrence. A Corporation has
been defined to be " a thing having neither a body to be kicked nor a soul to
be damned." With this definition before him, Mr. O'Connell did not imagine
that he exceeded the limits of public debate in calling the Dublin Corporation
a "beggarly Corporation."' One of its most needy members [Mr. d'Esterre],
however, either volunteered or was incited to think otherwise, and called upon
the speaker to apologize or fight. To Mr. O'Connell, a life of vital importance
to a numerous family, and of great importance to the best part of the Irish pub-
lic, the alternative was dreadful. He saw the ferocity of the transaction in its
full light, but he committed his conduct to the decision of his friends, and a
duel ensued. The aggressor was killed. Had the result been different, his
claims would probably not have been overlooked by the patron of the time
(1815); at least such is understood tr '-ave been the expectation under which
be provoked his fate.

90 DANIEL 0*CONNELL.

do, if the fact be duly certified by his friend, Mr. Denis Scully,*
who has quite an instinct for collecting materials touching this
portion of secret history, O'Connell, I am assured, not only
forgives them all their libels, but contributes liberally toward
setting on foot a few expiatory masses for their souls.t

O'CONNELL IN 1829.

IT was on a calm autumn evening that I had returned from
a walk to the splendid seat of Lord Powerscourt, in the county
of Wicklow. I had sat down at the inn of the little village
where I was sojourning, and had placed myself in the window,
to while away an hour in observing the " passing events" of
the place. The market was over; the people had gradually
passed to their homes ; the busy hum of the day was fast dying
away ; and a few straggling groups scattered here and there
through the long, wide street of the town — the only one it
boasted — were almost the only persons who arrested my eye
The sun was sinking, and threw his lingering beams into the
neat but ill-furnished apartment where I was sitting. To avoid
the glare of his beams, I changed my position, and this gave
me a more uninterrupted view of the long street above referred
to, which threw its termination into the green fields of the
country.

Casting my eyes in this direction, I beheld a chariot-and-
four coming toward me, enveloped in a complete cloud of dust,
and the panting horses of which were urged on with tremen-

* The catholic barrister, a gentleman quite clever and important enough
to be treated of apart. For the present, I shall merely record of him that one
of his favorite theories is, that no rank Orangeman ever " dies game." He
can tell you the exact moment when Doctor Duigenan began to roar out for a
priest. He has a large stock of mortuaiy anecdotes illustrating his general
doctrine, and he relates them with true Sardonic vivacity.

t To this sketch, originally published in July, 1823, I annex a later por-
trait, by Mr. Curran, with additions by Mr. Sheil, which appeared in March,
1829, after Mr. O'Connell's being elected M. P. for Clare, and on tie eve ot
catholic emancipation, carried in the following month, by Wellington. — M.

HIS OtTTER ASPECT.

iloiis rapidity. Struck with the unexpected arrival of such a
vehicle in that place, I leaned out of the window to observe
its destination, .and beheld it still rolling hurriedly along, and
sweeping round the angle of the street toward the inn with an
increased violence. If my reader has been much used to trav-
elling, he will be a AV are that the moment a postillion comes in
sight of an inn, he is sure to call forth the mettle of his horses
— perhaps to show off the blood of his cattle.* This was the
case at present, and a quick gallop brought the vehicle in thun-
dering noise to the door, where, Shenstone says, is to be found
" the warmest welcome." The animals were sharply checked,
the door was flung open, and the occupier threw himself hur-
riedly out.

" Bring out four horses instantly," was the command he ut-
tered in the loud voice of haste and authority.

The inmate of the carriage was about five feet eleven and a
half inches high, and wore a portly, stout, hale, and agreeable
appearance. His shoulders were broad, and his legs stoutly
built, and, as he at that moment stood, one arm in his side-
pocket, the other thrust into a waistcoat, which was almost
completely unbuttoned from the heat of the day, he would
have made a good figure for the rapid but fine-finishing pencil
of Harlowe.t His head was covered with a light fur-cap, j
which, partly thrown back, displayed that breadth of forehead/

* The readers of fiction will be reminded of one of Miss Edgeworth's
stories, in which she makes an Irish postillion, whose horses were weak and
weary after a long journey, rally them up as he entered a gentleman's demesne,
which he called having " a gallop for the avenue." — M.

t George Henry Harlowe, born in London in 1787, was ^rst the pupil and
afterward the rival of Sir Thomas Lawrence, the eminent portrait-painter. He
painted some clever historical pictures, of which the best known is " The Trial
of Queen Catherine," in which there are portraits of Mrs. Siddons, with her
brothers, John and Charles Kemble, and other theatrical celebrities. Of this
even an engraving is rare and valuable. The original hangs, neglected and
ancared for, in a store-loft, in Soho Square, at London, belonging to a piano-
forte maker. After visiting Italy, where his accuracy as a copyist, and his re-
markable facility in original works, excited much admiration} and obtained him,
at Rome and at Florence, the highest honors artists could bestow on him,
Harlowe returned to London, and died there, a few months after, in 1819. His
skill, in rapidly sketching a likeness and in seizing the character of a face, ha*
rarely been equalled. — M.

92 DAKIEL O'CONNELL.

which T have never yet seen absent from real talent. His eyes
appeared to me, at that instant, to be between a light-blue and
a gray color. His face was pale and sallow, as if the turmoil
of business, the shade of care, or the study of midnight, had
chased away the glow of health and youth. Around his mouth
played a cast of sarcasm, which, to a quick eye, at once be-
trayed satire ; and it appeared as if the lips could be easily
resolved into the risus sardonicus. His head was somewhat
larger than that which a modern doctrine denominates the
" medium size ;" and it was well supported by a stont and well-
foundationed pedestal, which was based on a breast, full, round,
prominent, and capacious. The eye was shaded by a brow
which I thought would be more congenial to sunshine than
storm ; and the nose was neither Grecian nor Roman, but was
large enough to readily admit him into the chosen band of that
" immortal rebel" (as Lord Byron called Cromwell) who chose
his body-guard with capacious lungs and noses, as affording
greater capability of undergoing toil and hardship. Altogether
he appeared to possess strong physical powers.

He was dressed in an olive-brown surtout, black trowsers,
and black waistcoat. His cravat was carelessly tied, and the
knot almost undone, from the heat of the day ; and as he stood
with his hand across his bosom, and his eyes bent on the
ground, he was the very picture of a "public character," hur-
rying away on some important matter which required all of
personal exertion and mental energy. Often as I have seen
him since, I have never beheld him in so striking or pictorial
an attitude.

" Quick with the horses !" was his hurried ejaculation as he
recovered himself from his revery, and flung himself into his
carriage. The whip was cracked, and away went the chariot
with the same cloud of dust, and the same tremendous pace.

I did not see him pay any money. He did not enter the
inn. He called for no refreshment, nor did he utter a word to
any person around him. He seemed to be obeyed by instinct;
and while I marked the chariot thundering along the street,
which had all its then spectators turned on the cloud-enveloped
vehicle, my curiosity was intensely excited, and I instantly

AS A MOB-SPEAKER. 93

descended to learn the name of the extraordinary stranger.
Most mal-apropvs, however, were my inquiries. Unfortunately,
the landlord was out ; the waiter could not tell me his name ;
and the hostler " knew nothing whatsomever of him, except
that he was in the most uncommonest hurry." A short time,
however, satisfied my curiosity.

The next day brought me to the capital of the county where
I was then on a visit. It was the assize time. Very fond of
oratory, I Avent to the courthouse to hear the forensic eloquence
of the "Home Circuit." I had scarcely seated myself, when
the same grayish eye, broad forehead, portly figure, and strong
tone of voice, arrested my attention. He was just on the mo-
ment of addressing the jury, and I anxiously waited to hear
the speech of a man who had already so strongly interested
me. After looking at the judge steadily for a moment, he be-
gan his speech exactly in the following pronunciation : " My
Lurrd — Gentlemen of the" jury."

"Who speaks?" instantly demanded I.

" Counsellor O'Connell," was the reply.

"Why, he only arrived last night?"

"Late last night, and has had scarcely a moment to con
over his brief. But listen."

I at once fixed my attention. As I do not write short-hand,
I can not give the detail of his speech ; but his delivery I can
criticise, and can here write down.

Were O'Connell addressing a mixed assembly where the
lower orders predominated, I scarcely know any one who
would have such a power of wielding the passions. He has a
knack of speaking to a mob which I have never heard exceed-
ed. His manner has at times the rhodomontade of Hunt;*
but he is infinitely superior, of course, to this well-known dem-
ocrat in choice of language and power of expression. The
same remark may apply, were I to draw any comparison be-
tween him and another well-knoAvn mob-speaker, Cobbett.t

* Henry Hunt, for some years the leader of the " Radical Reform" party in
England. — M.

t William Cobbett, who will be remembered as the most inconsistent poli-
tician, and the most nervous writer of English prose, hig time 7roduce4. — ]Vf,

Were lie opposed to these two persons in any assembly of ilio
people, he would infallibly prove himself the victor. A balcony
outside a high window, and a large mob beneath him, is the
very spot for O'Connell. There he would be best seen, and
his powers and person best observed ; but were he in the House
of Commons, 1 do not think I am incorrect when I say that
he would make little impression on the House, supposing he
were heard with every prepossession in his favor.* His actkii
wants grace and suavity — qualities so eminently fascinating
in an elegant and classical speaker, but which perhaps are
overlooked in an " orator of the people." The motions of his
body are often sharp and angular. His arms swing about un-
gracefully ; and at times the right hand plays slovenly with
his watch-chain.

Though I shall not, perhaps, find many to agree with me,
yet I am free to confess that he does not appear to me to pos-
sess that very rare gift — genuine satire. He wants the culti-
vated grace of language which his compeer, Sheil, possesses,
and the brilliancy of metaphor. None is there else, however,
peer or commoner, who can compete with him in the Catholic
Association. His language is often coarse, and seldom elegant.
Strong, fierce, and perhaps bold, it often is ; but vituperation
and personality make up too much of the materiel. His voice
is sometimes harsh and dissonant ; and I could wish more of
that round, full, mellow tone, which is essential to a good
delivery, and which so captivates the ear. "The voice is the
key which unlocks the heart," says Madam Roland. I believe
it. Let the reader listen to the fine round voice of Lord Chief
Justice Bushe, and then let him hear the sometimes grating
tones of O'Connell, and he will soon perceive the difference.
The voice of the latter much reminds me of the harsh thinness
of Mr. J. D. Latouche'sf (whose conversational tone, by-the-by,

* This was a " foregone conclusion" to which facts gave a strong negative..
O'Connell became one of the best speakers in the House of Commons, and his
speech, in 1831, on the Reform Bill, was the ablest on the subject. As " Mem
ber for all Ireland," with forty votes at his command, his power in the House
was great. — M.

t Mr. Latouche was an eminent banker in Dublin, who sometimes tried $Q
Uike a leading part in politics. — M,

PLEADING BEFORE THE VICEROY. 95

is far beyond his oratorical one); and yet the coolness and
the astuteness which the latter gentleman possesses in an
argument, would be no bad substitute for the headlong impet-
uosity and violent sarcasm in which O'Connell sometimes
indulges.

As he can not clothe his language in the same elegance as
Slieil, he consequently can not give the same insinuation to
his discourses. In this respect, his contemporary has greatly
the advantage. Slieil gives us the poetry of eloquence —
O'Connell gives us the prose. The attempts of the latter at wit
are clumsy, while the former can bring both that and metaphor
to his aid, and he often uses them with much effect. O'Con-
nell, however, can attempt humor with effect, and he has a
peculiar tact in suiting this humor to the Irish people. I have
not often seen a good exordium from O'Connell — an integral
portion of a discourse which it is extremely difficult to make;
and I think his perorations want grace, point, and force, and
that which the Italians would denominate " espressivo."

I shall follow him still farther.

The next place at which I heard the arch-leader of Cathol-
icism, was at the council-chamber in Dublin castle, where he
was employed to argue a case before the then Viceroy, Marquis
Wellesley.* His speech, voice, action, eye (for nothing in
oratory escapes me), are as clearly before me at present as
they were on that day ; and if this should catch his eye, I
would call it to his memory by saying it was one of the best
speeches he ever made. Mr. Goulburn,t who sat at the

* Richard Colley Wellesley, eldest son of the earl of Mornington (composer
of the well-known glee, " Here in cool grot"), and brother of Arthur, duke of
Wellington, was created Marquis Wellesley for his services in India, as
Governor-General, and was twice Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. He died in
1842, in the eighty-third year of his age. — M.

{• Henry Goulburn, now M. P. for Cambridge University, was bom in 1784,
ftnd, besides initiatory offices, held the Colonial Seals from 1812 till 1821 : was
Secretary for Ireland (and very unpopular) from December, 1821 till 1828:
Chancellor of the Exchequer from 1828 till 1830: Secretary for the Home
Department from December, 1834 to April, 1835 (Peel's brief administration),
«riil again Chancellor of the Exchequer, ufider Peel, from 1841 to 184fJ-
Though a Conservative, he voted for Reform and Free Trade. An ultra-AntJ-

96 DANIEL O'CONNELL.

lowermost end of the table, on the right of the Lord-Lieuten-
ant, was busily employed in taking notes. The person who
eat next the Chief-Secretary, was Lord (then Mr.) Plunket;
but he merely kept his eyes fixed on the broad green cloth
which spread amply before him, and, with his arms folded,
scarcely moved from that position the entire time. Lord
Wellesley was at the top of the table, dressed in his orders;
and, as he was of the same opinion in politics with the person
who was speaking, he seemed to listen to him with much
pleasure. His words, tone of voice, and action, seemed more
strictly attended to than when I heard him at Wicklow ; and
even his step in the ante-rooms, on passing to the chamber, was
also guarded. Into that chamber he could not come in the
same hurried careless manner, in which I have sometimes seen
him fling himself into court. One day, while lounging in the
latter place, I saw him rapidly fling aside the green curtain at
the doorway ; and as he dashed down the benches to the front
of the bar methought he would have almost strode over the
thick files of lawyers, attorneys, clerks, witnesses, &c., who
chanced to be in his way.

In walking through the streets, *he pushes along in the
same careless, democratic manner; and his stout, tall figure,
enables him to shoulder aside the crowds that might oppose
liis hurried march. He seems not to recollect that the slow
pace is the pace of the gentleman ; on he goes, business and
emancipation borne mightily on his broad shoulders ; and
stops not, nor stays, till he gets to the Four Courts ; from the
Four Courts he is then off to the Association rooms — from
the Association to the Four Courts back again — from the
Courts to attend some popular assembly, or keep an appoint-
ment— from the assembly to his house to dine — then a hearty
dinner and a temperate glass — business, parchments, briefs^
attorneys' clerks, and "unfledged lawyers" afterward — retir-
ing early to bed — and then, next day, behold him going
through the same endless, important, and weighty routine of
business again.

Catholic for many years, he voted for Catholic Emancipation, in 1829, at tl)t»
jj^dfrg of his ma?te<-, the Puke of Wellington, — |Vf,

A DAEING ACT. 97

The setting-up for Clare was the most daring, and the bold-
est step which this man ever took, or ever will take. Were he
to live a century, lie could do nothing which would shew so
much of daring and intrepid talent. He has been blamed for
it ; but the power, and the ambition, and the boldness, which
it has evinced, makes me admire where I am otherwise obliged
to condemn. It was one of those steps that (to use the words
of Voltaire) " vulgar men would term rash, but great men would
call bold." Let me distinguish it from his mission to England.*
This last was a foolish step, but the first was an intrepid one.
Men of talent forsook him in the last, but they supported and
abided by him in the first. In short, the whole of Ireland was
thrown into astonishment.

The last time I saw O'Oonnell was in St. James's park. He
had a long scroll under his arm — mayhap that which has
since caused such controversy, " the wings." The next time
I see him will perhaps be in that, to me, most interesting spot
in London, or in all England — St. Stephen's.

* The visit of the Catholic Deputation to England in 1825, of which 8 full
account is in these sketches. — M.

VOL. I.— -5

WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLUNKET.

kt~R. PLUNKET'S father was a Presbyterian clergyman in tto*
& nil of Ireland.* He died during the infancy of his children
leaving them and his widow without any provision : but learn-
ing has always been cheap in Ireland, and Mrs. Plunket con-
trived to procure for her sons a classical education. The sub-
ject of the present notice was, at an early age, befriended by
the late Lord Avonmore. I have conversed with one or two
persons who recollect to have seen him a constant inmate at
his Lordship's house, and their report of him is, that "he was
a clever, hard-headed boy, very attentive to his studies, and
very negligent of his person." He passed in due course through
Trinity College, Dublin ; and was called to the Irish bar in
1787. His professional advancement was rapid and steady.
The first public notice that I can find of his name is upon the
trial of the Shcareses, in 1798 :t he was associated with Cur-

* He eventually settled in Dublin, where he became stated minister of a con
gregation. He was fond of polemical discussion, but when it was becoming
fierce, as too often is the case, would say, " Well, let us leave it to Bridget,"
who was a simple-minded lass from Wales. Her reply commonly was, " Well,
sir, if you will have my judgment, I do think that love to God and love to man
are not fuel for hell-fire." 'inere is philosophy, as well as truth and humanity,
in this plain declaration. — M.

t John and Henry Sheares -were natives of Cork. They were well educated
and well connected. John, the younger, who was a republican, joined the Uni-
ted Irishmen in 1796. Henry, a man of amiable disposition and easily influ-
enced, followed the example. Both had been to France, at the taking of the
Bastille ; and John was seen, on his return, to flourish, with exultation, a hand-
kerchief stained with the blood of Louis XVI. John Sheares was very active
in the preparations for the outbreak in 1798, writing the greater part of the va-
rious addresses issued by the Directory. The Sheares's accession to the popular

TKIAL OF THE SHEARESKS. 99

ran and Ponsonby in tlie defence of the unfortunate brothers,
and, like them, vainly urged every topic that legal ingenuity
could devise to avert their doom. I am not aware that Mr.
Plunket appeared as counsel for the prisoners in any subse-
quent state-trial. He became a member of the Irish Parlia-
ment in 1797.* On the question of the Union, he took the side
of his country : his speeches on that occasion contain many fine
specimens of reasoning, invective, and deliberate enthusiasm.
A single sentence will convey an idea of their general spirit :
"For me, I do not hesitate to declare, that if the madness of

cause, which was soon suspected, was ascertained by a militia-captain, named
Armstrong, who wormed himself into their confidence, to betray them to the
Government. On the evidence of Armstrong-, who had been on visiting terms at
their house, and an accessory in their councils, the case against the brothers
was proved — though it condemned himself to an immortality of infamy. The
trial came off, on July 12, 1798, before Lord Chief-Justice Carleton and four
other Judges. Curran, Plunket, and Ponsonby, were the chief counsel for the
prisoners. After the trial had lasted sixteen hours, Curran, exhausted in mind
and body, requested its postponement until the next morning. Attorney-Gen-
eral Toler (afterward Lord Norbury), on the part of the Crown, refused to consent
to any adjournment. At midnight, therefore, Curran had to speak ; and, wea-
ried as he was, made an eloquent defence. The next morning, at eight o'clock,
a verdict of " Guilty" was returned. The brothers rushed into each other's
arms. When called up for judgment, at three o'clock the same day, Henry,
overcome by emotion, was unable to speak. John, more firm, made only one
request, that " the husband, the father, the brother, the son, all comprised in
one person," should receive, not a pardon, which it was not in the power of
the Court to grant, but a brief respite. The request availed not. Toler moved
that the sentence of death should be carried into execution the next day — and
so it was, in front of the prison in Green street. By the common law of Eng-
land, two witnesses were necessary to convict in cases of treason ; and so Coke
and Blackstone have held ; but the Irish Court decided that only one was requi-
site in Ireland, and that one was Armstrong the informer. So, as Curran stated,
" that which in Ireland might be legally done, in England it would be murder
to do." At present, the law is the same in Ireland as in England.— -Eventu-
ally, the remains of these unfortunate men were deposited in the vaults beneath
the Church of St. Michan's, Dublin, where the soil and the atmosphere resist
decomposition, and might there be seen, for over forty years, by any one who
paid the sexton. In January, 1842, the bodies were saved from further pub-
licity by being placed in coffins of oak and lead. — M.

* Plunkel was brought into Parliament by the Earl of Charlemont (born in
1728, died 1799), whose name will live, in history, as the popular leader of the
Irish Volunteers of 1782. — M.

100 WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLTTNKET.

the revolutionist should tell me, 'You must sacrifice British
connection,' I would adhere to that connection in preference to
the independence of my country ; but I have as little hesita-
tion in saying, that, if the wanton ambition of a minister should
assauit the freedom of Ireland and compel me to the alterna-
tive, I would fling the connection to the winds, and I would
clasp the independence of my country to my heart," But in
those days, as was remarked, "the voice of the patriot in the
senate was answered by no echo from without." The nation
was panic-struck ; gold and promises were profusely scattered ;
the majority of the " Honorable House" were impatient to be
s »ld, though the wages of their sin was death. The people
had nothing to offer but gratitude and fame — the minister had
titles, offices, and pensions ; and the Irish Parliament was
knocked down to the highest bidder.

In 1803, Mr. Flunket appeared as one of the counsel for the
prosecution on the trial of Mr. Robert Emmett.* One particu-

* There were three Emmetts, sons of Dr. Emmett, who had been state-physi
cian at Dublin, and was an extreme libei'al in his political opinions. Temple,
the eldest, who distinguished himself in the University and at the bar, died at
the age of thirty. Thomas Addis, born in 1764, also became a barrister, got
involved in the revolt of 1798, was allowed to expatriate himself, arrived at
New York in 1804, where he was at once admitted to practice (by special dis-
pensation, although opposed, Phillips says, by Chancellor Kent), became Attor-
ney-General of New York in 1812, and died in 1827, greatly respected and
lamented. Robert, who was only twenty-three years old, joined in the insur-
rection of June 23, 1803 ; was tried, condemned, and executed — lamented even
by multitudes who disliked his politics. Robert Emmctt's defence, as it is
called, though actually spoken after condemnation, when called on to receive
judgment, is one of the most touching and pathetic specimens of eloquence
ever uttered. In that, he alluded to his father's early political instructions,
when he exclaimed, " If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the
concerns of those who were dear to them in this transitory scene, dear shade
of my venerated father ! look down on your suffering son, and see has he for a
moment deviated from those moral and patriotic principles which you so e;nly
inculcated into his youthful' mind, and for which he has now to offer up his
life !" And who can forget the pathetic earnestness of his request that no man
would write his epitaph, and the hope that his tomb would remain uninscribed
until other men and other times could do justice to his character! " When my
country take* her place," said he, " among the nations of the earth, then, and
not till then, let my epitaph be written." — M,

TRIAL OF fcOBEKT EMMF/Tf. 101

lar of his conduct on that occasion exposed him to great, and,
as it appears to me, most unmerited reproach. The unfortu-
nate prisoner made no defence — in truth, he had none to
make : he produced no evidence, and his counsel announced
that they would state no case to the jury. On this ground,
they contended that the counsel for the Crown should not he
allowed to address the jury a second time. Mr. Plunket in-
sisted upon his right : the Court decided the question in his
favor, and he proceeded to comment at length upon the con-
duct of the prisoner, and upon the wildness and guilt of the
conspiracy of which he had been the projector. Emmett's
youth and talents, and his deportment on his trial, excited uni-
versal sympathy : almost all, even those who would not con-
sent to spare him, pitied him as a victim — many admired and
deplored him as a martyr. The latter exclaimed against Mr.
Plunket's exercise of his privilege to speak to the evidence, as
an act of gratuitous inhumanity. I confess I sec the matter in
quite another light : Mr. Plunket was a public man, whose
opinions had great weight with the community ; and I conceive
it to have been both natural and laudable that he should have
seized the opportunity of reprobating, in the most emphatic
terms, the visionary projects of revolution that still prevailed
Curran, from a similar impulse of public duty, had done the
same thing, a few days before, on the defence of Owen Kir-
wan, where we find him digressing from the immediate case
before the jury* into an elaborate and glowing exposition of
the guilt and hopelessness of attempting to better the condition
of Ireland by force. But the enemies of Mr. Plunket were not
satisfied with a general assertion that his conduct had been
unnecessarily harsh. To affix a deep stigma upon his charac-
ter, it was industriously circulated that he had been a constant
guest of Emmett's father, at whose table he had inculcated po-
litical principles upon the son which now brought him to the
grave ; and, to give credit to the calumny, a passage was inter-
polated in the report of Emmett's address to the Court,* in which

* No allusion to Pliuket was made by Robert Emmett — and Phillips, whr
examined the charge very closely, declares M Emmett never did so with truth,
nor could he have done so with truth." So far from being on intimate terms

102 WILLTAM COtfYttGHAM

the dying enthusiast was made to pronounce a bitter invec-
tive against " the viper that his father had nurtured in his
bosom."

Mr. Plunket was compelled to resort to a public vindication
of his character. He instituted legal proceedings against a
London journal in which the libel was inserted, and obtained
a verdict:* he also published an affidavit, positively denying
every material fact in the accusation. He might have gone
farther, and have truly sworn that the accusation was never
made until after the supposed accuser was in his grave. I
have conversed with several who were present at the trial, one
or two of them friends and admirers of Eminett : they all
solemnly assured me, that not a syllable escaped his lips bear-
ing the remotest allusion to the charge ; and the omission in
Mr. Plunket's affidavit of this conclusive circumstance, was
pointed out to me as a singular absence of sagacity, in a man
so notoriously sharp-sighted where the concerns of others are
confided to his care. I should not have dwelt thus long upon
this transaction, were it not that " Mr. Plunket's conduct to
Robert Emmett" is, to this day, frequently adverted to by per-
sons unacquainted with the particulars, as an indelible blemish
upon his reputation.!

with the Emmett family, it is stated (in the Memoir of Plunket in the Dublin
University Magazine for March, 1840) that he did not know them personally,
and had only once met any of them, Thomas Addis Emmett, at a public din-
ner.— M.

* It was against William Cobbett that Plunket brought the action, and ob-
tained smart damages. This may account for Cobbett's constant and bitter
attacks on him, in later years. In the Union debate, in 1800, Plunket, who
was an Anti-Unionist, made a very striking speech, which contained the follow
ing strong sentence, among others: " For my part, I will resist it [the Union]
to the last gasp of my existence, and with the last drop of my blood ; and when
I feel the hour of my dissolution approaching, / will, like the father of Hanni-
bal,, take my children to the altar, and swear tftem to eternal hostility against
the invaders of their country's freedom" Thirty years later, when Plunket had
accepted a peerage and office from the Saxons whom he had thus denounced,
Cobbett had fair game in him, and did not spare the lash. Enumerating the
variety of public offices, in Church and State, to which the Plunkets had been
appointed, Cobbett constantly spoke of the Hannibals and their father Hamil-
car Plunket ! — M.

t Charles Phillips, who defends him, yet admits that Plunket " made a ver\

SIS OFFICIAL ANTECEDENTS. 103

Mr. Plunket was made solicitor-general in 1803, and attor-
ney-general and a privy counsellor in 1805. He retained Kis
place when the whigs came into office, in 1806. I believe that
this was the commencement of his connection with Lord Gren-
ville, to whose .party he has since adhered. After the death
of Mr. Fox, it was intimated to him that the new administra-
tion had no intention of superseding him, but he preferred to
follow the fortunes of Lord Grenville, and resigned. Since
1812, he has sat in the Imperial Parliament, as a member for
the university of Dublin.

Mr. Plunket has for some years past confined himself to the
Court of Chancery, where he holds the same pre-eminence
that Romillyf did in England. Of all the eminent lawyers I

unnecessary speech, as Emmett scarcely denied his guilt," but Plunket's own
excuse was that he thought himself called upon not so much to address the
Jury, as the country through the Jury. In 1819, he repeated that " the times
rendered it necessary." Phillips, again referring to the case in 1851, declares
that if a speech were necessary it should have been made, not by Plunket but
by Mr. M'Cleland, who as solicitor-general was next in rotation. It was also
said that Plunket had volunteered his exertions : on the contrary, they were
specially solicited by the first law officer of the crown. Dr. Sandes, after-
ward Bishop of Cashel, who from his well-deserved popularity, had the repre-
sentation of Dublin University in his hands, was canvassed by Plunket, during
his contest with John Wilson Croker, and frankly said he would oppose him,
unless he could clear up his conduct on Emmett's trial. The explanation was
satisfactory, and Sandes supported Plunket, who was elected by a majority of
Jive. On the other hand, the eulogistic biographer in the Dublin University
Magazine, while he acquits Plunket of the main charge of ingratitude, con-
demns his " eager zeal," and adds that after the two officers of the Crown did not
think it necessary to make a single remark, after the prisoner's case had closed,
Plunket " assailed the sad enthusiast, in that hour of his deepest suffering, in
a theme of invective which might have been well spared." The fact seems to
be, Plunket, who had begun to look office-ward, seized the opportunity of
showing that his own strong and hostile opinions had softened down into re-
spect for the ruling authorities, and for good order, as sustained by the law. — M.
* Sir Samuel Romilly, alike distinguished at the bar and in Parliament, was
born in 1757. He was called to the bar in 1783, and soon obtained extensive
Chancery practice. He was Solicitor-General under the Grenville ministry in
1806, and was knighted. In Parliament h ? was distinguished for his attempts
to reform the criminal law. He committed suicide, November 2, 1818. One
of his sons, Sir John Romilly, a very able equity lawyer, is now Master of the
Rolls in England. — M.

104: WILLIAM CONYNGirAM PLtfNKET.

have heard, he seemed to me to be the most admirably qualified
for the department of his profession in which he shines. His
mind is at once subtile and comprehensive : his language clear,
copious, and condensed : his powers of reasoning are altogether
wonderful. Give /him the most complicated and doubtful
case to support — with an array of apparently hostile decisions
to oppose him at every step — the previous discussion of the
question has probably satisfied you that the arguments of his
antagonists are neither to be answered nor evaded — they
have fenced round the rights of their clients with all the great
. names in equity — Hardwicke, Oamden, Thurlow, Eldon :* Mr.

* Edward Thurlow, born in 1735, and called to the bar in 1758, was mado
Solicitor-General in 1770, and Attorney-General in 1771. In Parliament, he
supported the ministers in their anti-American measures. In June, 1778, he
was elevated to the office of Lord-Chancellor, and was created Lord Thurlow.
In 1783, he quitted office, when the Coalition Ministry came in, but was reap-
pointed on Pitt's becoming Premier. In 1793, on a quarrel with Pitt, he again
resigned, went into private life, and died in September, 1806. He was a good
lawyer, but brusque in his manners. — Charles Pratt (afterward Earl of Cam-
den) was the son of Sir John Pratt, Chief-Justice of the King's Bench in the
time of George I., and was born in 1714. He slowly but gradually got into
business at the bar. In 1757, he was appointed Attorney-General, at the in-
stance of the elder Pitt, and entered Parliament. In 1761, he was made Chief-
Justice of the Common Pleas, and soon showed his independence by deciding,
in the case of Wilkes, that general warrants were illegal. In 1765, the Rock-
ingham Ministry called him to the Upper House, as Lord Camden. As a peer,
his course was independent, and he denied the right of Great Britain, as claimed
by the Government, " to impose laws upon the American colonies in all cases
whatsoever." In July, 1766, Lord Camden was made Lord-Chancellor. In
1770, opposing his colleagues in the Ministry, who were hurrying the crisis
with America, Lord Camden quitted office. Here ceased his judicial career,
but he was a political combatant for twenty-four years longer — always con
demning the war with America, always defending the liberty of the subject.
In 1782, he entered the Rockingham Ministry as President of the Council,
which, with a slight interval under the Coalition Ministry, he continued to hold
until his death. He was created Earl and Viscount in 1786, and died in April,
1/94, aged eighty- He was one of the greatest constitutional lawyers England
ever possessed. — John Scott, afterward Earl of Eldon, was born in 1751. His
elder brother, afterward Lord Stowell, was born six years earlier. John Scott
was educated at Oxford, where he obtained a fellowship in 1767, which he for-
feited in 1772 (celibacy being imposed upon the fellows of English colleges),
•>y running off and marrying the daughter of a rich banker at Newcastle, his
native place. Soon after, he had to read the law lectures at Oxford, ae deputy

RATIONALE OF HIS PLEADING. 105

Plnnket rises. You are deeply attentive, rather from curios-
ity to witness a display of hopeless dexterity, than from any
uncertainty about the event. He ^onpiences by somejjeneral
undispjijej^imnjeipje of law^tbat seemft perhaps, at the firstly
vic\v, not to bear the remotest relation to the matter in contro-
versy; but to this he appends another and another, until by a,
regular series of connected propositions, he brings it down to I
the very point before the court ; and insists, nay demonstrates,
that the court can not decide against him without violating
one of its own most venerated maxims. Nothing can be more
masterly than the manner in which all this is done. There is

for the Vinerian professor; a,nd, ludicrously enough, the first lecture was on the
statute 4 and 5 Philip and Mary, ch. 8 : " Of young men running away with maid-
ens." He had one hundred and forty students as auditors, all of whom giggled,
as well they might, at the difference between the professor's theory and prac-
tice. Called to the bar in 1776, Scott joined the Northern Circuit, for some
years with ill-success. In 1780, the reversal of one of the Master of the Rolls'
judgments, by Lord-Chancellor Thurlow, upon Scott's argument, drew him into
notice. Further success, before a committee of the Commons, on an election
case, which lasted fifteen days (with a retainer of fifty guineas, a daily fee
often guineas, and an evening-consultation fee of five guineas), gave him repu-
tation, as well as money and hope. In 1783, he was made King's Counsel,
with Erskine. At this time he entered Parliament, where he and Erskine
made their maiden speeches in the same debate, but on opposite sides — Scott
opposing and Erskine defending Fox's India Bill. In 1788, he was made So-
licitor-General, and knighted — and Attorney-General in 1793, which office he
retained to the year 1799, conducting the state trials of Home Tooke, Hardy,
and Thelwall, for high-treason. In July, 1799, he became Chief-Justice of the
Common Pleas, and was created Baron Eldon. He was then making between
ten and twelve thousand pounds sterling a year by his practice ; but if the salary
of a Judge was much less, so was the labor. In this new capacity, he proved '
himself in every respect equal to the duties. In 1801, he became Lord-Chan
cellor, by the King's own request, and abandoned the Common Pleas with re-
gret. In February, 1806, when the Grenville and Fox Cabinet came in, Lord
Eldon quitted office, was succeeded by Lord Erskine, and returned in April,
1807, to continue until 1827, when Canning became Premier, and Sir John
Copley, then created Lord Lyndhurst, received the Great Seal. In 1821, Lord
Eldon was made Earl and Viscount; As a Judge, he never had a superior, if
he had an equal, in Westminster Hall. His fault was delay, caused by hig
doubling. On political questions he had no delay, but was ready, intolerant,
and unscrupulous. He accumulated immense wealth, and died in January,
1838.— M.

5*

106 WltUAM CONttfGHAM

.M no ostentation of ingenuity and research. Everything is clear,
v*!/^ II I simple, and familiar: you assent without a struggle to each

* separate conclusion. It is only when you are brought to the
ultimate result, that you startle at discovering the consummate
skill of the logician, who, by wily and imperceptible ap-
proaches, has gained a vantage-point from which he can
descend upon his adversaries, and compel them to abandon a
position that was deemed impregnable.

But Lords Hardwicke, Thurlow, Camden, Eldon, &c., are
said to be against him. The advocate accordingly proceeds
to examine each of these authorities in detail; he analyses
their language; by distinctions that seem natural and obvious,
», but which in reality are most subtile, he shows how capable it
is of various interpretations ; he confronts the construction
contended for by conflicting decisions of the same judges on
Other and similar occasions; he points out unsuspected anom-
alies that would arise from adopting the interpretation of his
adversaries, and equally unsuspected accordances with general
principles, that would follow his own. He thus goes on until,
by reiterated processes of matchless sagacity, he has either
neutralized or brought over to support himself, all the author-
ities upon which his opponents most firmly relied ; and he sits
down, leaving the court, if not a convert to his opinion, at
least grievously perplexed to detect and explain the fallacies
upon which it rests.

Mr. Plunket is not said to be a profound lawyer ; he cites
fewer cases than any other counsel at the Irish bar ; and on
common occasions, frequently contents himself with merely
commenting upon those adduced against him. His supremacy
is altogether intellectual. He leaves to others the technical
drudgery of wading through tomes and indexes in search of
legal saws and " modern instances." The moment a question
is submitted to him, his mind intuitively applies all the great
principles that are favorable or hostile : these he has firmly
fixed, and scientifically arranged in his memory, and so far
may be said to be never unprepared. For the rest he depends
upon the resources of a talent that never fails him — upon his

! resistless vigor, where lie is right and sincere — upon his formi-

ats RHETORIC. 107

dable ingenuity and sophistry, where he can not venture to be
candid — upon his extemporaneous power of going through the
most intricate processes of thought with all the ease and famil-
iarity of ordinary discourse ; and most of all, upon a rapid
apprehension, which grasps and secures the entire of any prop-
osition of which a single particle may chance to flit across
Ms mind — a perfection of faculty that enables him to draw
the most unexpected conclusions from the topics adduced
against him, and thus to render all the industry of his antag-
onists subservient to his own occasions.

This, though an imperfect sketch, will convey some general
ideas of this eminent advocate ; but there is one peculiarity
in his powers, which to be adequately comprehended must be
actually witnessed. I allude to his capacity (in which he ex-
ceeds every public speaker I ever heard) of pouring out, I would j
almost say indefinitely, a continuous, uninterinitted volume j
of thought and language. In this respect, I look upon Mr.lj
Plunket's going through a long and important argument in the I
Court of Chancery to be a most extraordinary exhibition of
human intellect. For hours he will go on and on, with un-
wearied rapidity, arguing, defining, illustrating, separating in-!,
tricate facts, laying down subtile distinctions, prostrating anil
objection here, pouncing upon a fallacy there, then retracing
his steps, and restating in some original point of view his gen- /
eral proposition; then flying off again to the outskirts of the/ ClA/
question, and dealing his desultory blows with merciless reit-
eration wherever an inch of ground remains to be cleared ; and
during the whole of this, not only does not his vigor flag for a
single instant, but his mind does not even pause for a second 1
for a topic, an idea, or an expression. This velocity of crea-
tion, arrangement, and delivery, is quite astonishing; and what
adds to your wonder is, that it appears to be achieved without
an effort. Mass after mass of argument is thrown off, convey-
ed in phraseology vigorous, appropriate, and succinct, while
the speaker, as if the mere minister and organ of some hidden
power, that saves him the cost of laborious exertion, appears
solely anxious to impress upon others his own reliance upon
the force of what seems to come unsought.

108 WILLIAM CONYNGHAM

This singular command over liis great powers, coupled witli
his imposing exterior and masculine intonations, gives extra-
ordinary weight to all he says. From his unsuspected earnest-
\ ness of tone and manner, you would often imagine that his
zeal for his client was only secondary to a deeper anxiety
that the court should not violate the uniformity of its decisions
by establishing a precedent fraught with anomaly and danger,
while the authoritative ease and perspicuity with which he
states and illustrates his opinions gives him the air, as it were,
of some high legal functionary appearing on behalf of the pub-
lic, not so much to debate the qiiestion before the court as to
testify to the law that should decide it. So that in respect to
this quality of apparent conviction and good faith, we may
well apply to Mr. Plunket the words of Cicero in commenda-
• tion of one of the ancient orators of Rome ; nor will the illus-
tration be found to fail from any want of coincidence in the
personal characters of the two men : " In Scauri oratione, sa-
pientis Jwminis ct recti, gravitas summa et naturalis qucedam
inerat auctoritas, non et causa?n, sed ut testimonium dicere pu-
tares."*

But although Mr. Plunket is thus skilful in giving plausibil-
ity to reasonings that do not satisfy himself, I think it just
to add (what I have heard asserted) that even his own fine
understanding is often the dupe of his other faculties, and that,
in the hurry and fervor of argumentation, his judgment, with
all its vigilance, can not escape the snares his ingenuity has
weaved for others. I have even fancied at times (when in the
course of a cause some unexpected point of law is started) that
I have observed his argumentative devices in the very act of
imposing themselves upon his mind as irrefutable conclusions.
He rises to make, perhaps, a single observation, and is about
to resume his place, when a new topic in support of his argu-
ment flashes across his mind. As he proceeds to state it, fresh
principles and illustrations crowd in to defend him in his posi-

* "The speeches of Scaurus, who was a wise and virtuous man, were distin-
guished by the utmost dignity, and by a certain natural imposing authority
which led his audience to suppose that he appeared less in the character of an
advocate than of a witness."

INDECISION OF JUDGMENT. 109

tion : an incidental remark is thus expanded into an elaborate
piece of reasoning, during the progress of which he gradually
becomes more confident and earnest, until, from the intense
ardor with which he follows up each successive advantage, he
finally works himself into a conviction that all the merits of
the question are on his side.

But it is only when he is the retained advocate of a particu-
lar party, whose claims he has to sustain in open court, that
Mr. Plunket is subject to this species of mental deception. In
the cold and cautious meditation of the closet, when he has to
pronounce upon a disputable case submitted for his opinion,
the predominance of his argumentative powers operates upon
his judgment in quite another way. Instead of rushing to
hasty conclusions, he finds a difficulty in coming to any con-
clusion at all. The very perfection of some of his faculties, his
sagacity, his subtilty, and his intuitive perception of the re-
motest consequences of any given premise, which render him
so powerful as an advocate, have in this case only the effect
of encumbering him with equal arguments and equal difficul-
ties on either side, and thus of keeping his mind in a state of
logical suspense. This fact is well known, and the conse-
quence (I speak from general report) is, that in this department
of his profession his practice is utterly disproportioned to his
great experience and his unrivalled estimation.

The effect of Mr. Plunket's powers is greatly aided by his
external appearance.* His frame is tall, robust, and compact.

* Charles Phillips has thus sketched Plunket in his prime : " Who is that
square-built, solitary, ascetic-looking person, pacing to and fro, his hands crossed
behind his back, so apparently absorbed in self — the observer of all, yet the
companion of none ? It is easy to designate the man, but difficult adequately
to delineate the chai'acter. Perhaps never was a person to be estimated less by
appearances ; he is precisely the reverse of what he feels ; externally cold, yet
ardent in his nature; in manner repulsive, yet warm, sincere, and steadfast in his
friendships; severe in aspect, yet in reality social and companionable — that is
Plunket — a man of the foremost rank, a wit, a jurist, a statesman, an orator, a
logician — the Irish Gysippus ! as Curran called him! in whom are concentrated
all the energies and all the talents of the countiy. Eminent at the bar, it is in
Parliament we see his faculties in their fullest development. Yet, in the Irish
House of Commons, his chief displays were on a single question — that of the
Un»on ; and in the British Parliament — that of the Roman Catholic question." — M.

110 WILLIAM CONYNGITAM PLUNKET.

His face is one of the most striking I ever saw; and ye\. the
peculiarity lies so much more in the expression than the out-
line, that I find it not easy to describe it. The features on
the whole are blunt and harsh. There is extraordinary breadth
and capacity of forehead ; and when the brows are raised in
the act of thought, it becomes intersected with an infinite series
of parallel lines and folds. Neither the eyes nor brows are
particularly expressive; nor indeed can I say that any of the
other features would singly indicate the character of the man,
if I except a peculiar muscular largeness and rigidity about
the mouth and lips, from which you may collect, that smiling
has "never been their occupation."

The general character of Mr. Plunket's countenance is deep
seriousness — an expression that becomes more strongly mark-
ed from the unvarying pallor that overspreads his features.
It is literally " the pale cast of thought." Some have accused
his physiognomy as being unsocial and austere. To me it ap-
peared that the signs of those qualities have been confounded
with the natural and now indelible traces of a grave and vig-
orous intellect, habitually absorbed in masculine investigations,
and preferring to dwell in the midst of its own thoughts. Nor
do I find anything repelling in the circumstance that his fea-
tures seldom descend for a moment from their dignity. Know-
ing what his mind and his history have been, I am prepared
for what I meet. I find no flashes of sensibility, no play of
shifting or conflicting emotions, but a calm constitutional sever-
ity of aspect, importing a mind conscious of its powers, and
vigilantly keeping them in unremitted discipline against the
daily task that awaits them.*

* Phillips truly says, that Plunket's " style was peculiar, and almost quite
divested of the characteristics generally to be found in that of his countrymen.
Strong, cogent reasoning — plain but deep sense — earnest feeling and imagery,
seldom introduced except to press the reasoning or to illustrate it, were the
distinguishing features of his eloquence : he by no means rejected ornament,
but he used it severely and sparingly ; and though it produced the effect, it was
not directly, but rather collaterally and incidentally. He always seemed to
gpeak for a purpose, never for mere display; and his wit, like his splendor, ap-
peared to be struck out by the collision of the moment. In this, indeed, his
art was superlative. There were passages which could not have been flung off

HIS MANNER. Ill

I expected to Lave found a tinge of melancholy in Mr. Plun-
ket's features — such as I had observed in Grattan and some
other eminent Irishmen, who had attended the Parliament of
their country in its last moments, and who could find nothing
in after-life to console them for the loss. I often heard Mr.
Grattan speak upon that event. I never found him more
eloquent or interesting than when, in a circle of his private
friends, he poured out his indignation against a measure that
had baffled all his hopes, and his unavailing regret that he
had been too confiding at a conjuncture when it was possible
to have averted the disaster. But I could discern no traces
of similar sentiments in Mr. Plunket's looks. He was, how-
ever, a much younger man, and could form new views and
attachments ; nor is it, perhaps, surprising, that at this distance
of time he should not revert with sadness to an event, which
in its consequences has opened to him so much larger a field
for the exhibition of his powers.

Mr. Plunket's manner is not rhetorical — it is (what I con-)
sider much better) vigorous, natural, and earnest. He has no i
variety of gesture, and what he uses seems perfectly unstudied.
He is evidently so thoroughly absorbed in his subject, as to be
quite unconscious that he has hands and arms to manage. He
has a habit, when he warms, as he always and quickly does,
of firmly closing both hands, raising them slowly and simul-
taneously above his head, and then suddenly striking them
down with extraordinary force. The action is altogether un-

extempore, and must have been the result of very elaborate preparation." —
Many of his isolated passages are beautiful. In a parliamentary speech on the
Catholic Claims, in 1821, speaking of the great departed who had joined in |
discussions, he said, " Walking before the sacred images of the illustrious dead, f
as in a public and solemn procession, shall we not dismiss all party feeling, all
angry passions, all unworthy prejudices 1 I will not talk of past disputes ; 1
will not mingle in this act of national justice anything that can awaken per-
sonal animosity." It was the speech of which this is an atom which actually
converted nine hostile votes on the Catholic Question, in the British House of
Commons. The late Sir James Macintosh, who had heard all the great ora-
tors— from Pitt, Sheridan, Burke, and Fox, to Brougham, Canning, Sheil, and
Macaulay — repeatedly said, that if Plunket had been regularly trained to a
British House of Commons, he would have been the greatest speaker ther*
that he ever remembered. — M

112 WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLUNKKT.

graceful; but its strength, and I would even add, its appro-
priateness to the man and to his stern simplicity of character
• and style, atone for its inelegance. Besides, this very disdain
\ of the externals of oratory has something imposing in it : you
are made to feel that you are in the presence of a powerful
mind that looks to itself alone, and you surrender yourself
more completely to its guidance from the conviction that no
hackneyed artifice has been employed to allure your confi-
dence.

Mr. Plunket's delivery, as already mentioned, is uncommonly
rapid, but his articulation is at the same time so distinct that I
seldom lose a word. In calm discussion his intonations are
deep, sonorous, and dignified : when he becomes animated, his
voice assumes a higher pitch, and the tones, though always
natural and impressive, are occasionally shrill. His extem-
poraneous powers of expression are not to be described by the
common term, fluency. It is not merely over words and
phrases, but over every possible variety of construction, that
he appears to hold an absolute command — the consciousness
of this power often involves him in grammatical difficulties.
He allows a thought to drift along into the midst of obstruc-
tions, from which no outlet can be descried, as if for the mere-
purpose of surprising you by his adroitness when he discovers
the danger, steering it in safety through all the straits and
intricacies of speech — or by the boldness with which he forces
. a passage if he can not find one. But it is only over argumen-
I tative diction that he has acquired this mastery : when he
\ calls in the aid of sentiment and passion to enforce his logic,
his phraseology labors, and, if the passage be unpremeditated,
frequently falls short of the strength and dignity of the con-
ception. But his deficiency in this respect evidently proceeds
from want of practice, not of capacity ; nor does the exertion
that it costs him to supply appropriate language ever restrain
him from illustrating a legal argument by any bold practical
figure that may cross his mind.*

* I shall cite a single example : it will also serve as a specimen of the prone-
ness to imagery that prevails in the Irish courts. The question turned upon
the light of presentation to a living. Mr. P.'s clients and their predecessor"

HIS PARLIAMENTARY CAREER. 113

Mr. Plunket is a memorable, and I believe, a solitary in-
stance of an eminent barrister whose general reputation has
been increased by his parliamentary efforts.* His speeches

had been in undisturbed enjoyment of the right for two centuries ; the opposite
party called upon them to show their original title. Mr. P. insisted upon the
legal presumption, arising from this long possession, that the title had been
originally a good one, though the deeds that had created it had been lost, and
consequently could not be produced. In commenting upon the necessity and
wisdom of such a rule of law, without which few properties of ancient standing
could be secure, he observed — "Time is the great destroyer of evidence, but
he is also the great protector of titles. If he comes with a scythe in one hand
to mow down the muniments of our possessions, he holds an hour-glass in the! * *
other, from which he incessantly metes out the portions of duration that are to i
render those muniments no longer necessary." f_Lord Brougham, who intro-
duced this extract into his sketch of Grattan, eulogized it highly. In the equity
case, which drew forth the speech in which it sparkled, Plunket was retained
by Trinity College, which sought to recover the right of presentation to the
living of Clonee. Mr Johnston, called " Bitter Bob," was his opponent, with
a bad case and large fee. After Johnston had been voluble for some time,
Plunket, assuming a ludicrous expression of surprise, questioned the relevancy
of what he said, and asked " Does the learned gentleman mean to rely upon
prescription or upon law 7" Taken by surprise and conscious that he could not
rest upon prescription, Johnston hastily answered " Oh ! most certainly upon
law." Plunket immediately asked, with mock gravity, " Well, then, where is
your law 7" Utterly confounded by the directness and suddenness of the ques-
tion, Johnston faltered out " I don't know," and sat down, half crying. It was
a confession at once true and candid. — M.]

* There were many predictions of Plunket' s failure in the Imperial Parlia-
ment. What Grattan had said of Flood, that an oak of the forest was too old^
to be transplanted at fifty, was quoted against him — though he was no more '
than six-and-thirty when the Union took place. Plunket, in the British, was
not the fervid orator he had been in the Irish Parliament. He knew that he
had a different audience, and accommodated himself to it. He imitated no
speaker there — he could not be compared with any. His first speech in 1807,
on the Catholic question, was a fine specimen of solid reasoning and rich elo-
quence, and of logical argument and historical facts. It placed Plunket in the
foremost rank of modern orators. From that time until he returned to Parlia-
ment six years after, he confined himself to his profession. His own Univei
sity, justly proud of him, sent him back to Parliament; and in 1813, as
well as again in 1814, Plunket spoke on the Catholic question, and only on that
subject. One of his incidental sarcasms, in 1814, was polished and keen. Ad-
dressing the Speaker (Abbott), who had, ex-officio, to return the thanks of the
House to Wellington, he said, " But you, sir, while you were binding the
wreath round the brow of the conqueror, assured him that his victorious follow-
pr» uiust never expect to participate in the fruits of their valor, but thai; thej

114 . WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLUNKET.

on the Union, in the Irish House of Commons, raised him a*
once to the first class of parliamentary orators. When he was
returned by the University of Dublin (in 1812) to the imperial
senate, Curran publicly predicted that his talents would create
a similar sensation here : I need not add how completely the
prophecy has been fulfilled. It would lead me too far to enter
into a minute examination of Mr. Plunket's parliamentary style
and manner; in many points I should have to repeat some of
the foregoing remarks. I can not, however, forbear to observe,
that his language and views in the House of Commons discover
a mind that has thoroughly escaped the noxious influence of
• ,his professional habits. He has shown that it is possible for
, I the same person to be a most subtle and dexterous disputant
upon a technical subject, and a statesman-like reasoner upon
a comprehensive one.

With regard to his political tenets — his opposition to the
Union, his connection with the Whig administration of 1806,
and his subsequent exertions in favor of Catholic Emancipa-
tion, seem to have placed him on the list of Irish patriots ; but
his support of popular privileges, where he has supported them,
appears to be entirely unconnected with popular sympathies —
his patriotism is a conclusion, not a passion. In all questions
between the people and the state, it is easy to perceive that he
identifies himself with the latter; he never, like Fox and
Grattan,* flings himself in imagination, into the popular ranks,

who had shed their blood in achieving the conquest were the only persons who
were never to share the profits of success in the rights of citizens." This ap-
pears to be the germ of Sheil's striking and brilliant address to Lord Hardinge,
with reference to the aid given in the field by Irish Catholics. — M.

* Henry Grattan, the most eminent Irishman of his time, was born in 1746,
in Dublin. Educated in Dublin University, he became a law-student of the
Middle Temple in 1767, was called to the bar in 1772, and became member
for Charlemont in 1775, for which town he sat until 1790, when he was elected
by the citizens of Dublin. In 1797, he did not again become a candidate. In
1800, he was returned for Wicklow, to oppose the Union. From 1805 he was
a member of the Imperial Parliament, and was the earnest and able chai apion
of the Catholics, to his dying day. He found his countiy a province — he made
it a nation ; he found it the prey of a rapacious oligarchy — he raised it to inde-
I pendence ; to use his own striking words, " he sat by its cradle, he followed its
i hearse." Grattan was the life and soul of the struggle for Irish independence,

HENRY GRATTAN. 115

to march at their head, and in their name, and as one of them,
to demand a recognition of their rights. Mr. Plunket has not

1782. His eloquence was great, in a country where every man can freely and
suitably express himself in public. His courage was indomitable, and, in truth,
his sarcasm needed such support. The people, grateful, gladly confirmed the
grant of fifty thousand pounds sterling made to him by the Parliament: he had
refused the proposed sum of one hundred thousand pounds. With this he
bought Tinnahinch, in the county of Wicklow, where he lived, as Moore said —
" 'Mid the trees which a nation had given, and which bowed

As if each brought a new civic crown for his head."

His last efforts in the Irish Parliament were against the Union. In the British
House of Commons, in 1804, Fox placed him on the seat next his own ; and his
first speech, in favor of Fox's motion on the Catholic question, and in reply to
Di. Duigenan, who had imported his intolerance to London, was answered by
Spencer Percival, the Minister, who greatly complimented its brilliancy. In
England, Grattan was more subdued than in his own land in former years, and
Curran smartly said that " indeed he had brought his club into the English
House of Commons, but took care, beforehand, to pare off its knobs." He
advocated the Calholic claims, by appointment, until 1815, when Sir Henry
Parnell was intrusted with the conduct of the measure. His popularity had so
much faded, that he was assailed, at the general election in 1818, by a mob in
Dublin, and narrowly escaped with life. In 1819, his motion for a committee
on the Catholic claims was lost by a majority of only two. In June, 1820, he
hurried over, weak in health, and worn by seventy-four years, to present the
Catholic petition once more — but died before he could do it. His remains
found interment in Westminster Abbey, next to those of Mr. Fox. His person
was short and clumsy, with disproportionably long arms ; his voice shrill and
badly managed; his manner artificial, his action vehement and unnatural — but
his diction, or wardrobe of words, was rich in the extreme ; his language full
of epigram and antithesis; his sentences harmonious and forcible; his powers
of attack and defence never equalled. The brilliant character of Grattan's ora
tory was thus indicated by Moore, in one of his Irish Melodies: —

" Who, that ever hath heard him — hath drunk at the source

Of that wonderful eloquence, all Erin's own,
In whose high-thoughted daring, the fire and the force,
And the yet untamed spring of her spirit, are shown ?
" An eloquence rich, wheresoever its wave

Wandered free and triumphant, with thoughts that shone through,
As clear as the brook's ' stone of lustre,' and gave,
With the flash of the gem, its solidity too."

Grattan was a politician, but not a statesman. Yet, from 1775 until 1800,
the history of Grattan is the history of Ireland.. His son has published an ex-
cellent Memoir of him, and had previously edited his speeches. Undoubtedly
Grattan was a remarkable man — one of the master-spirits of his age. — JVf.

116 WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLTJNKET.

temperament for this. He studiously keeps aloof from the
multitude, and even when their strenuous advocate, lets it he
seen that he thinks for them, not with them — he never warms
into " the man of the people." His most animated appeals in
their hehalf retain the tone of a just and enlightened aristocrat,
gravely and earnestly remonstrating with the members of his
own body, upon the danger and inexpediency of holding out
against the immutable and unconquerable instincts of human
nature.

The only exception that I recollect to these remarks, occurs
in his speeches against the Union. There he boldly plunged
into first principles ; as, among other instances, when he ex-
claimed, "I, in the most express terms, deny the competency
of Parliament to do this act — I warn you, do not dare to lay
your hand on the Constitution. I tell you that if, circum-
stanced as you are, you pass this act. it will be a nullity, and
that no man in Ireland will be bound to obey it. I make the
assertion deliberately — I repeat it — and I call on any man
who hears me to take down my words : you have not been
elected for this purpose — you are appointed to make laws, and
not legislatures. You are appointed to act under the consti-
tution, not to alter it ; to exercise the functions of legislators,
and not to transfer them : and if you do so, your act is a
dissolution of the government ; you resolve society into its
original elements, and no man in the land is bound to obey
you." Yet even here, and in some bolder declarations on the
same occasion, I am inclined to suspect that Mr. Plunket
assumed this indignant tone, rather as a member of the assem-
bly whose independence was assailed, than from any impas-
sioned sympathy with the general rights of the body that he
represented. Had the question been a popular reform, in-
stead of the extinction of the Irish parliament, he would, in
all likelihood, have been equally vehement in resisting the
innovation.

Mr. Plunket's general reading is said to be limited ; and
if we may judge from the rareness of his allusions to the great
writers of ancient and modern times, the opinion is not un-
founded. When he was about to annear in the British narlia-

COMPARED WITH HOMILLY. 117

tnent in 1812, it was whispered among his friends, that he
prepared himself with information on the general state of
European politics from the most ordinary sources: he wanted
facts, and he took the shortest and easiest method of collecting
them. I have understood that, up to a recent period, he fre-
quently employed his leisure hours upon some elementary
treatise of pure mathematics. If the fact he so, it affords a
striking proof of the vigor of a mind which could find a relax-
ation in such a pursuit.*

I have already glanced at a resemblance between Mr. Plun-
ket and the late Sir Samuel Romilly. If I were to pursue the
comparison into the private characters of the two men, the
points of similarity would multiply, and in no particular more
strikingly than in the softness and intensity of their domestic
affections. But this is sacred ground : yet I can not forbear
to mention that it fell to my lot (when last in Ireland), sitting
as a public auditor in the gallery of the Court of Chancery,
to witness a burst of sensibility, which, coming from such a
man as Mr.Plunket, and in such a place, sent an electric thrill
of sympathy and respect through the breasts of the audience.
An aged lady, on the day after her husband's death, had
signed a paper, resigning her right to a portion of property

* Although Plunket, as his aspect showed, was of a saturnine temperament,
he was not above enjoying and even making a joke. Once, at a dinner with
Or Magee, Archbishop of Dublin, one of the company was a pedantic collegian,
who asked his host whether he had heard of the difference between Brinkley
(afterward Bishop of Cloyne) and Pond, respectively Astronomers Royal of
Ireland and England. " Brinkley," said the bore, " contends that the parallax
of a Lyrse is three seconds; Pond says it is only two, — and the dispute is vio-
lent." Plunket, who was one of the party, quietly remarked " Ah, sir, it must
be a very bad quarrel, when the seconds can not agree" — When the Grenville
Ministry was formed, in 1806, Charles Kendal Bushe, suspected of being a wa-
vcrer, absented himself from Court, on the ground that he was cabinet-making.
The excuse transpired, and Plunket said " Bushe will beat me at that — I am
neither a joiner nor a turner." — After quitting the Common Pleas, in 1827, to
take the Great Seal, he was told that his successors had little or nothing to do,
" Well," said he, " they're equal to it." He could even joke at his own ex-
pense. On his enforced retirement, in 1841, to make way for Lord Campbell,
a great storm arose on the day of his successor's expected arrival, a friend said,
how sick of his promotion the voyage must have made him. " Yes," »aid
Plunket, with a sardonic, smile, " but it won't make him throw up the Seals. — M.

J1& WILLIAM CONYttGtfAM

to which she became entitled by his decease ; and the ques-
tion was, whether her mind at the time was perfectly calm and
collected. Mr. Plunket insisted that it was not in human na-
ture that she could be so at such a crisis. — " She had received
a blow such as stuns the strongest minds : after a union of half
a century, of uninterrupted affection, to find the husband, the
friend, the daily companion, suddenly called away for ever !"
He was proceeding to describe the first anguish and pertur-
bation of spirit that must befall the survivor of such a relation,
when he suddenly recognised in the picture all that he had
himself a little while before endured. The recollection quite
subdued him — he faltered, and became inarticulate even to
sobbing. I can not describe the effect produced throughout
the court.

I have thus attempted to present a sketch of this eminent
Irishman* — in matters of intellect unquestionably the most

* Lord Plunket, who was born in 1764, is now (1854) in his ninetieth year.
Brought into the Irish Parliament hy the Earl of Charlemont he bitterly de-
nounced the contemplated Union, and was violently personal on the Irish Sec-
retary, Lord Castlereagh, who managed the ministerial details. His Lordship,
a handsome man (who, Sir Walter Scott thought, was the most distinguished-
looking personage at the Coronation in 1821, as he walked, unaccompanied, in
the full dress of a Knight of the Garter), had been married for some years to the
young and lovely daughter of the Earl of Buckinghamshire, and it was their
misfortune to be childless. During a debate, when Lady Castlereagh was pres-
ent, Plunket concluded a personal attack on her husband by saying, " I can not
believe that that constitution, the foundations of which were laid by the wisdom
of ages, and cemented by the blood of patriotic heroes, is to be smitten to its
centre by such a green and sapless twig as this !" The venom of the stroke,
imputing political and insinuating personal imbecility, was deeply felt. After
the Union, Plunket fought side by side with Curran, on the popular side ; but,
in 1803, he appeared against Robert Emmett, as already mentioned. After the
Union, also, he had unsuccessfully been a parliamentary candidate for the Univer
sity of Dublin. In 1806, the death of Pitt admitted the Whigs to office. Self-
boasting as they had been, the soubriquet of " All the Talents" was given to
their official capacity. In 1807, they quitted place, and Plunket, who would
have been retained by their successors if he pleased, went out with them ; noi
did he again assume office until 1822, when (at the instance of the same Lord
Castlereagh whom he had formerly attacked, but who desired parliamentaiy
assistance against the hollow friendship of Canning and the open hostility of
Brougham) he succeeded Mr. Saurin as Attorney-General. He had previ-
ously defended, in Parliament, what was called the " Massacre of Peterloo," in

MIS VERSATILE POWERS. 119

eminent that now exists. If I intended it to be anything but
a hasty sketch, I should feel that I have been unjust to him.
Some of his powers — his wit and irony, for example, in both
of which he excels, and his cutting and relentless sarcasm,
where vice and folly are to be exposed — have been altogether
unnoticed ; but his is the " versatile ingenium," and, in offering
the result of my observations upon it, I have been compelled
to select rather what I could best describe, than what I most

the Manchester riots of 1819. As first Irish law-officer of the Crown, Plunket
did not appear to advantage. When a hottle was flung at the Viceroy, in the
theatre, Plunket hastily indicted the rioters for high-treason, and as hastily
withdrew the indictment before trial. His bills of indictment were ignored,
his ex-offido prosecutions defeated, and his Orange antagonists cheaply obtained
the honor of political martyrdom. In 1827, when a new Premier was necessary,
on the illness of Lord Liverpool, Canning was appointed, and thought so highly
of Plunket as to offer him a peerage, a seat in the Cabinet, and the high office
flf Master of' the Rolls in England. Plunket was actually appointed, but the
English bar, declaring that Westminster Hall must supply the new Judge, inti-
mated that they would not plead before Plunket. The end was that he became
Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas in Ireland, instead of Master of the Rolls
in England — and became a peer as "Baron Plunket, of Newton, County of
Cork." By his speeches and his vote, he assisted in the Emancipation Bill of
1829 ; and when the Whigs took office, in 1830, Earl Grey made him Lord-
Chancellor of Ireland, a position which he retained until December, 1834, when
Sir Robert Peel, on the change of Ministry, appointed Sir Edward Sugden (now
Lord St. Leonards, and late Lord-Chancellor of England), an English barrister
of great ability. In April, 1835, Plunket resumed the Irish Chancellorship,
and retained it until June, 1841. The Melbourne Ministry, then within three
months of its dissolution, wished to provide for Sir John Campbell, who had
been in office nine years. His wife had already been appointed a peeress in
her own right (Baroness Stratheden), but he desired for himself the retiring
pension of four thousand pounds sterling always given to an ex-Chancellor.
Accordingly, Lord Plunket, whose judicial career had been highly satisfactory,
received a hint that he must retire ! Plunket, recollecting how the English
bar had refused him, was reluctant to see an English lawyer, who knew nothing
of equity, named as his successor. He refused to retire, was informed that he
would be dismissed if he did not, and finally resigned, stating the whole case in
open Court, in his farewell address to the bar. He said he had no share in
what had taken place, directly or indirectly, and entirely repudiated the change.
Campbell, created a peer, heard a few motions as Chancellor, and went out,
shortly after, on the large pension he had coveted. He is now Chief-Justice
of England. — Lord Plunket retired into private life in 1841, and enjoys tho
four thousand pounds pension, and a large private fortune, earned by his pr>
fessionul labors. — M.

WILLIAM CONYNGHAM

admired ; and even if I had succeeded in a delineation of all
the powers that raise Mr. Plunket above ordinary men, I
should have had to add, that our admiration of him is not
limited by what we actually witness.

We speculate upon his great attributes of intellect, and ask,
"What might they not have achieved, had his destiny placed
him in the situation most favorable to their perfect develop-
ment? If, instead of wasting them upon questions of tran-
sitory interest, he had dedicated them solely to the purposes of
general science — to metaphysics, mathematics, legislation,
morals, or (what is but spoken science) to that best and rarest
kind of eloquence, which awakes the passions only that they
may listen to the voice of truth — to what a height and perma-
nence of fame might they not have raised him V

These reflections perpetually force themselves upon Mr.
Plunket's admirers : we lament to see the vigor of such a
mind squandered upon a profession and a province. We are
incessantly reminded that, high and successful as his career has
been, his opportunities have been far beneath his resources,
and thus, ju^gjpj* him rather by what he could do than what
he has done, w. ve disposed to speak of him in terms of enco-
mium, which XO (Tteords of his genius will remain to justify.

CHARLES KENDAL BUSHE.

THE name of CHARLES KENDAL BUSHE is not so extensively
known as that of Plunket beyond the immediate field in which
his talents (which are of the first order) have been displayed.
But in Ireland it is almost uniformly associated with that of
Plunket, by those who descant upon the comparative merits
of their most distinguished advocates. The latter is better
fitted to the transactions of ordinary business, and, in a pro-
fession which is generally conversant with the details of com-
mon life, exhibits a dexterity and astuteness which render him
the most practical, and, therefore, the ablest man at the Bar.
He is always upon a level with his subject, and puts forth his
faculties, as if they were as subservient as his limbs to the do-
minion of his will, in the most precise and minute adaptation
to the purposes for which they may happen to be required.
The self-control which his mind possesses in so high and rare
a degree (and it is more difficult, perhaps, to men of true
genius to descend from their native elevation than to persons
of inferior endowments to raise their faculties to the height of
a "great argument") has given him an almost undisputed mas-
tery in the discussion of those topics which constitute the ha-
bitual business of the Bar. His hearers are not conscious that
he is in reality exercising his great powers while he addresses
them in the plainest speech and apparently in the most homely
way.

An acute observer would discover that his reasonings upon
the most vulgar topic were the perfection of art, and that un-
der the guise of simplicity he concealed the most insidious

VOL. L— G

CHARLES KRNDAL

sophistry, and subtleties the most acute. This seeming ingen
uousnes's is the consummation of forensic ability ; and however
it is to be estimated in a moral point of view, there can be no
doubt that at the Bar it is of incalculable use. Mr. Plunket
is the chief sophist, and for that reason the most useful dis-
putant in his profession; and it must be confessed that the
deliberations of a court of justice do not call so much for the
display of eloquence as for the ingenious exercise of the pow-
ers of disputation. I am far from thinking Mr. Bushe deficient
in refinement and dexterity; on the contrary, he would be
conspicuous for those qualities unless when he is placed in
comparison with the great arch-hypocrite of the Bar. But -»vh'j
could be his rival in that innocent simulation which constitute*
the highest merit of a modern lawyer1? The ingenuity of
Bushe is too apparent. His angling is light and delicate ; but
the fly is too highly colored, and the hook glitters in the sun.
In the higher departments of oratory he is, perhaps, equal and
occasionally superior to Mr. Plunket, from the power and en-
ergy of his incomparable manner; but in the discharge of com-
mon business in a common way, he holds a second, though not
exceedingly distant place.

Mr. Bushe is the son of a clergyman of the established
church, who resided at Kilmurry, in the county of Kilkenny,
in the midst of the most elegant and most accomplished soci-
ety in Ireland. He was in the enjoyment of a lucrative living,
and being of an ancient family, which had established itself
in Ireland in the reign of Charles the Second, he thought it
incumbent upon him to live upon a scale of expenditure more
consistent with Irish notions of dignity than with English
maxims of economy and good sense. He was a man of refined
manners, and of polished if not of prudential habits. His son
Charles imbibed from him an ardent love of literature, and had
an opportunity from his familiar intercourse with the best com-
pany in the kingdom, to acquire those graces of manner which
render him a model of elegance in private life, and which, in
the discharge of professional business, impart such a dignified
suavity to his demeanor as to charm the senses before the un-
derstanding is addressed. His mother was the sister of Major

HISTORICAL SOCIETY.

General Sir John Doyle,* and is said to have been a highly-
cultivated woman.

Mr. Bushe received his education in the University of Dub-
lin, and, I may add, in the Historical Society which was estab-
lished by the students for the cultivation of eloquence and of
the arts which are connected with it. Although it derived its
appellation from the study of history, to which it was nomi-
nally dedicated, the political situation of the country speedily
directed its pursuits to the acquisition of the faculty of public
speech ; through which every man of talent expected to rise
into eminence, at a period when oratory was the great staple
commodity in the intellectual market. This institution rose
of its own accord out of the spontaneous ambition of the stu-
dents of the University. So far from assisting its growth, the
fellows of the college employed every expedient to repress it.
In the true spirit of monks (and however they may differ in
the forms of their faith, in their habits, and in the practical
results in which their principles are illustrated and embodied,
the monks of all religions are inveterately the same), the su-
periors of the University took the society under their baneful
protection. They attempted to hug it to death in their rugged
and hirsute embrace. The students, however, soon became

* The late General Sir John Doyle was private Secretary to the Prince of
Wales for many years, when that profligate was taking a leading part in the
" Road to Ruin." Doyle, who was then only a Major in the army, was an Irish-
man and had distinguished himself by some clever opposition speeches in the
Irish House of Commons. — The Prince met him accidentally at a large party,
was struck with his intelligence and vivacity, invited him to the Pavilion, at
Brighton, and speedily offered him the most confidential post in his household.
To his latest day, Doyle used to say that George, Prince of Wales, merited the
title of " the first gentleman in Europe," and it should he noted that he who
gave this opinion had spent all his life in the best society, at home and abroad.
Doyle was a wit. The Prince had gone to the opening of Parliament, wearing
diamond epaulettes on his military uniform. At dinner, Doyle said he had
been among the crowd, who much admired the Prince's equipage, and that one
of them, looking at the diamond epaulettes, said, " Tom, what amazing fine
things the Prince has got upon his shoulders?" and the other had answered,
" Ay, fine enough, and they will soon be on our shoulders." There was a
smile all around the royal table, for freedom of speech was fully allowed there,
and the Prince laughingly retorted, " You rogue, that shaft could come from no
bow but your own. " — M.

124 CHARlES KENt)AL BUSfiE.

aware of the real objects of their interference, and were com-
pelled, in order to preserve the institution from the conse-
quences of so impure a connection, to recede from the Univer-
sity, and hold their meetings beyond its walls.

Mr. Bushe had been recently called to the Bar, but had not
yet devoted himself to its severer studies with the strenuous
assiduity which is necessary for success in so laborious a pro-
• -fession. But the fame which he had acquired in the society
itself, induced its rebellious members to apply to him to pro-
nounce a speech at the close of the first session which was
held beyond the precincts of the college, for the purpose of
giving the dignity and importance to their proceedings which
they expected to derive from the sanction of his distinguished
name. Mr. Bushe acceded to the request, and pronounced a
very eloquent oration, which Mr. Phillips has, I observe, inserted
in his collections of " Specimens of Irish Oratory."* It is re-

* This work, which, published in Dublin in 1819, was republished in Phila-
delphia in 1820, is called " Specimens of Irish Oratory," and contains, with
very brief memoirs, examples of the oratory of Burke, Curran, Grattan, Sheri-
dan, Burrowes, Bushe, Plunket, and Flood. Charles Phillips, born at Sligo,
in 1788, graduated at Dublin University, and was called to the Irish bar in
1812, where his florid oratory obtained him considerable practice in adultery,
seduction, and breach-of-promise-of-marriage cases. He collected his. speeches
in one volume in 1817, and they obtained a large sale. He also edited " Spe-
cimens of Irish Eloquence," wrote a poem called " The Emerald Isle," and
wrote " Recollections of Curran," which speedily ran through two large edi-
tions, and was reproduced in 1850, entirely recast, enlarged, and improved, as
" Curran and his Contemporaries," which has gone into several editions, and
was republished in New York, in 1851. Phillips went to the English bar, in
1819, where his peculiar style of eloquence did not please. He obtained ex
tensive criminal practice, and adhered steadily lo the liberal principles of his
youth. In 1842, on the establishment of District Courts of Bankruptcy in Eng-
land, the influence, of his stanch Mend Lord Brougham obtained him a com-
•nissionership at Liverpool, with a salary of eighteen hundred pounds sterling a
year. He subsequently resigned this, and became one of the London Com-
missioners of the Insolvents' Court. It is matter for reproach, as well as regret,
that, during the last ten or twelve years of comparative leisure, Phillips has done
so little as a literary man — a calling in which he has so well acquitted him
self. Curran, who much loved him, was fully sensible of the faults of Phillips's
early oratory, and said : " There is much more of flower than figure or art ; more
of fancy than design. It is like (as I suspect the mind of the author to be) a tree
in full blossom : shake it and you have them on the ground in a minute, and il
would take a season to reproduce them," — M.

CHARACTER OF HIS ELOQUENCE. 125

markable for purity and simplicity of style, and for an argu-
mentative tone, which, in so young a man, who had hitherto
exercised himself upon topics which invited a puerile declama-
tion, and the discussion of which was a mere mockery of de-
bate, afforded grounds for anticipating that peculiar excellence
which he afterward attained. A few metaphors are inter-
spersed, but they are not of the ordinary class of Irish illus-
tration; and what was unavoidable in an assembly composed
of insurgent students, an hyperbole is occasionally to be found
in the course of this very judicious speech. But, taken as a
whole, it bears the character of the mature production of a
vigorous mind, rather than of the prolusion of a juvenile rhet-
orician.*

This circumstance is a little remarkable. The passion for
figurative decoration was at this time at its height in Ireland.
The walls of the parliament house resounded with dithyram-
bics, in which, at the same time, truth and nature were too
frequently sacrificed to effect. The intellect of the country
was in its infancy, and although it exhibited signs of athletic
vigor, it was pleased with the gorgeous baubles which were
held out for its entertainment. It is, therefore, somewhat sin-
gular, that while a taste of this kind enjoyed so wide and
almost universal a prevalence, Mr. Bushe should, at so early a
period of his professional life, have manifested a sense of its
imperfections, and have traced out for himself a course so dif-
ferent from that which had been pursued by men whose genius
had invested their vices with so much alluring splendor.
This circumstance is partly, perhaps, to be attributed to the
strong instinct of propriety which was born with his mind,
and, in some degree, to his having passed a considerable time
out of Ireland, where he became conversant with models of a
purer, if not of a nobler eloquence, than that which was culti-
vated in the sister kingdom. He lived in France for some

* The beautiful speech which Bnshe delivered from the chair of the Histor-
ical Society, in closing its twenty-fourth session, in June, 1794, was published
by Phillips in his " Specimens." Bushc's own copy of this book was annotated
by himself in 1827, and he has marked this speech as " mostly puerile." Somo
passages he noted as " bad," some "not good," and only one as " good."— In
<$Ctj foe was very fastidious as to his own productions. — iVf,

12(5 CHARLES KENDAL BUSHE.

years, among men of letters; and although the revolution had
subverted, in a great degree, the principles of literature as
well as of government, yet enough of relish for classical beauty
and simplicity had survived, among men who had received
the advantages of education, to furnish him with the opportu-
nity, of which he so advantageously availed himself, of culti-
vating a better style of expression than he would, in all
probability, have adopted had he permanently resided in-
Ireland.

It may appear strange that I should partly attribute the
eminence in oratory to which Mr. Bushe has attained, to the
Historical Society, after having stated that he deviated so
widely from the tone of elocution which prevailed in that
establishment, and in which, if there was little of childishness,
there was much of boyhood. But, with all its imperfections,
it must be recollected that such an institution afforded an occa-
sion for the practice of the art of public speaking, which is as
much, perhaps, the result of practical acquisition, as it is of
natural endowment. A false ambition of ornament might pre-
vail in its assemblies, and admiration might be won by verbose
extravagance and boisterous inanity ; but a man of genius
must still have turned such an institution to account. He
must have thrown out a vast quantity of ore, which time and
circumstance would afterward separate and refine. His fac-
ulties must have been put into action, and he must have learned
the art, as well as tasted the delight, of stirring the hearts
and exalting the minds of a large concourse of men. The
physique of oratory too, if I may use the expression, must
have been acquired. A just sense of the value of gesture and
intonation results from the practice of public speaking; and
the appreciation of their importance is necessary to their
attainment. It is for these reasons that I am inclined to refer
a portion of the prosperity which has accompanied Mr. Bushe
through his profession, to an institution, the suppression of
which has been a source of great regret to every person who
had the interests of literature at heart.

The reputation which Mr. Bushe had acquired among his
fellow-students, attended him to his profession ; and in a very

HARMONY OF HIS VOICE. 12'f

short period, lie rose into the public notice as an advocate of
distinguished abilities. It was, indeed, impossible that he
should remain in obscurity. His genius was not of such a
character as to stand in need of a great subject for its display.
The most trivial business furnished him with an occasion to
produce a striking effect. There are some men who require a
lofty theme for the manifestation of their powers. Their
minds demand the stimulus of high passion, and are slow and
sluggish unless awakened by the excitement which great inter-
ests afford.

This is peculiarly the case with Mr. Burrowes,* who, upon
a noble topic, is one of the ablest advocates at the Irish bar.
but who seems oppressed by the very levity of a petty subject
and sinks under its inanity.

He is in every respect the opposite of Mr. Bushe, who could
not open his lips, or raise his hand, without immediately exci-
ting and almost captivating the attention of every man around
him. There is a peculiar mellowness and deep sweetness in'
his voice, the lower tones of which might, almost without haz-
ard of exaggeration, be compared to the most delicate notes
of an organ, when touched with a fine but solemn hand. It is
a voice full of manly melody. There is no touch of effeminacy
about it. It possesses abundance as well as harmony, and is
not more remarkable for its sweetness than in its sonorous
depth. His attitude and gesture are the perfection of " easy
art" — every movement of his body appears to be swayed and
informed by a dignified and natural grace. His countenance
is of the finest order of fine faces, and contains an expression
of magnanimous frankness, that, in the enforcement of any
cause which he undertakes to advocate, invests him with such
a semblance of sincerity, as to lend to his assertion of fact,

* Burrowes was one of the most absent of men. He it was who was found at
hi eakfast-time, standing by the fire with an egg- in his hand and his watch in '.*'.
the saucepan. But, as a barrister, he had great influence with a jury — some
times reaching the purest eloquence. " Devoid of every grace and every art,"
says Phillips," ungainly in figure, awkward in action, discordant in voice, no
man more riveted the attention of an audience and more repaid it. His mind
was of the very highest order ; his manner forced the conviction of his sincerity-
fljid his arguments were clothed in language chaste and vigorous." — ]VJ»

128 CHAELES KENDAL BUSHE.

or to his vindication of good principle, an irresistible force.* It
was not wonderful that he should have advanced with extreme
rapidity in his profession, seconded as he was by such high
advantages. It was speedily perceived that he possessed an
almost commanding influence with the jury ; and he was in
consequence employed in every case of magnitude, which
called for the exertion of such eminent faculties as he mani-
fested upon every occasion in which his powers were put into
requisition.

Talents of so distinguished a kind could not fail to raise him
into political consequence, as \vell as to insure his professional
| success. Tliejeluef object of every young man of abilities at the
7 bar was to obtain a seat in Parliament. It secured him the
applause of his country if he devoted himself to her interest;
or, if he enlisted himself under the gilded banners of the min*
ister, place, pension, and authority, were the certain remu-
nerations of the profligate services which his talents enabled
him to bestow upon a government, which had reduced corrup-
tion into system, and was well aware that it was only by the
debasement of her legislature that Ireland could be kept under
its control. The mind of Mr. Bushe was of too noble a cast to
lend itself to purposes so uncongenial to a free and lofty spirit ;
and he preferred the freedom of his country, and the retributive
consciousness of the approbation of his OAvn heart, to the igno-
minious distinctions with which the administration would have
been glad to reward the dereliction of what he owed to Ireland
and to himself. Accordingly we find, that Mr. Bushe threw
all the energy of his youth into opposition to a measure which
he considered fatal to that greatness which Nature appeared
to have intended that his country should attain; and to the
last he stood among the band of patriots who offered a gen-
erous but unavailing resistance to a legislative Union with
Great Britain.

* Bushe was by no means a handsome man. Phillips speaking of his " Mir-
abeau-formed figure — Mirabeau, indeed, in shape and genius, without the alloy ol
his vices or his crimes. What sweetness there is in his smile ! what thought
in his brow! what pure benevolence in the beaming of his blue unclouded
!"— M

KESULTS OF THE UNION.

However, as an Englishman, I may rejoice in an event,
which, if followed by Roman Catholic Emancipation, will
ultimately abolish all national antipathy, and give a permanent
consolidation to the empire ; it can not be fairly questioned that
every native of Ireland ought to have felt that her existence
was at stake, and that, in place of making those advances in
power, wealth, and civilization, to which her natural advan-
tages would have inevitably led, she must of necessity sustain
a declension as rapid as her progress toward improvement had
previously been, and sink into the provincial inferiority to
which she is now reduced. This conviction, the justice of
which has been so well exemplified by the event, prevailed
through Ireland; and it required -all the seductions which the
minister could employ, to produce the sentence of self-annihi-
lation, which he at last succeeded in persuading a servile
legislature to pronounce. To the honor of the Irish Bar, the
great majority of its members were faithful to the national
cause ; and Curran, Plunket, Ponsonby,* Saurin, Burrowes,
and Bushe, accomplished all that eloquence and patriotism
could effect, in opposition to the mercenaries, who had sold the
dignity of their profession, as well as the independence of
their country, in exchange for that ignoble station, to which,
by their slimy profligacies, they were enabled to crawl up.
Bushe was the youngest of these able and honest men ; but he
was among the most conspicuous of them all.

In this strenuous resistance which was offered by the re-
spectable portions of the Irish Bar to the measure which de-
prived Ireland of the advantages of a local legislature, a con-

* George Ponsonby, whose father had been speaker of the Irish House of
Commons, was born in 1755, called to the Irish bar in 1780, was a violent par-
liamentary opponent of the Irish Ministry, was appointed Lord Chancellor of
Ireland, in 1806, by " All the Talents" Cabinet, procured a peerage at the
same time for his elder brother, quitted office with his colleagues in 1807, on
the retiring pension of four thousand pounds sterling a year, became a distin-
guished member of the Opposition, and died in July, 1817. He was not elo-
quent. A clever parody on Moore's " Believe me if all tiiose endearing young
charms" introduces his name thus —

" And Ponsonby leaves the i abate when he sets,
Just as dark as it was wl'.en he I'ose.1' — M.

6*

130 CHARLES KENDAL BUSHE.

eciousness of deep personal interest must have been mingled
with their public virtue ; for, it was not difficult to foresee that
the profession from which the government was compelled to
make the selection of its parliamentary advocates, and to
which the country looked for its ablest support, must sustain a
fatal injury, from the deprivation of the opportunities of venal-
ity upon one hand, and of profitable patriotism upon the
other. The House of Commons was the field to which almost
\ every lawyer of abilities directed his hopes of eminence rather
' than to the courts of law ; and it must be acknowledged, that
• with that field the career to high fame is closed upon the
profession. Money may now be made in equal abundance by
laborious ability (and, indeed, the quantity of talent and of
industry at the Irish Bar demand in every individual who
aims at important success a combination of both); but no very
valuable reputation can be obtained.

Perliaps in the estimate of black-letter erudition the change
is not to be deplored : and unquestionably the knowledge of
law (for a few years ago the majority of barristers in full prac-
tice were ignorant of its elementary principles) has consider-
ably increased, and English habits of business and of diligence
• are gradually beginning to appear. But the elevated objects
of ambition, worthy of great faculties and of great minds, were
withdrawn for ever. Mr. Bushe must have repined at the
prospect. He would naturally have sought for mines of gjJd
amid the heights of fame, and he was now reduced to the
necessity of digging for it in an obscure and dreary level. It
is well-known that Mr. Plunket had at the time entertained
the intention of going to the English Bar, in consequence of
the exportation of the legislature ;* but the cautious timidity
of his advisers induced him to abandon the idea. I am not
aware whether Mr. Bushe had ever proposed to himself an
abandonment of a country, from which true genius must have
been tempted to become an absentee. But it is likely that his

* Curran was so dispirited with what passed in the Irish " Reign of Terror,"
in 1798, that though then forty-eight years old, he also had serious th- rights
of abandoning the Irish for the English bar. He stated this fact in one of \m
speeches in defence of the state prisoners, — M.

LORD CASTLEREAGH. 131

pecuniary circumstances, wliich, in consequence of his spon-
taneous generosity in paying off liis father's debts (his own
sense of duty had rendered them debts of honor in his mind)
were at this period extremely contracted, must have prevented
him from engaging in so adventurous an enterprise.

To him, individually, however, if the Union was accom-
panied with many evils, it was also attended with counter-
vailing benefits. Had the Irish Parliament been permitted to
exist, Mr. Buslie would, in all probability, have continued in
opposition to the government, upon questions to which much
importance would have been annexed. Catholic Emancipa-
tion, which is now not only innocent, but in the mind of almost
every enlightened man has become indispensable, would have
been regarded as pregnant with danger to the state. Mr.
Bushe, I am satisfied, could never have brought himself to
resist what his own instincts must have taught him to be due
to that justice which he would have considered as paramount
to expediency. Many obstacles would have stood in the way
of a sincere reconciliation with the government, and he could
not afford to play the part of Fabricius. Whether the argu-
ments which Lord Castlereagh* knew so well how to apply,

* It was Robert Stewart, Lord Castlereagh (who succeeded his father in
1821, as Marquis of Londonderry), who chiefly brought about the Union. Born
in 1769, he entered the Irish parliament in early manhood, when Mr. Stewart,
after a contest which cost thirty thousand pounds sterling, joined the opposi-
tion, and advocated Parliamentary Reform, which Pitt then favored. When
.he became a member of the British Parliament, he became ministerial. In
1797, after he had become Lord Castlereagh, he returned to the Irish Parlia-
ment and was made Keeper of the Privy Seal in Ireland, and, soon after, one
of the Lords of the Treasury. In 1798, he became Irish Secretary, and
wielded immense power. In 1805, still sitting in the Imperial Parliament for
the county of Down, he was admitted into the British Cabinet, retired on the
death of Mr. Pitt, but resumed office in 1807, when the Grenville Ministry
broke up. In 1809, quarrelling with Mr. Canning, whom he wounded in a
duel, he quitted office, but succeeded the Marquis Wellesley, in 1812, as For-
eign Secretary, which office he retained until his suicide, in August, 1822.
He took part in the negotiations at the Congress of Vienna, after the fall of
Napoleon. From that time until the close of his life, he was leader .pf the
ministerial party, and governed the British empire with a strong hand. Con-
stant mental labor )'^d to insanity and death. ^ At his funeral, when his remains
were entering Westminster Abbey, where he was buried, the populace

132 CHARLES KENDAL BUSHE.

and before which, in the estimate of the House of Commons,
all the eloquence of Grattan was reduced into a magnificent
evaporation, would have prevailed upon Mr. Bushe, as they
did with the majority of the Irish members, it is unnecessary
to conjecture ; but unquestionably had not the Union passed,
he must have abandoned his political opinions before he could
have been raised to office. When, however, that measure was
carried, a compromise became easy, and was not, in my
opinion, dishonorable.

Accordingly, although he had opposed the government on
the measure which they had most at heart, their just sense of
his talents induced them to offer him the place of Solicitor-
General, to which he was promoted in thirteen years after he
had been called to the Bar. That office he has since held,
and rendered the most important services to the minister,
without, perhaps, at the same time, ever having been guilty of
any direct dereliction of his former opinions. He was placed,
indeed, in rather an embarrassing condition ; for his associate,
or rather, his superintendent in office, Mr. Saurin,* was con-
spicuous for his hatred to the Roman Catholic cause, of which
Mr. Bushe had been, and still professed himself, the earnest
friend. This antipathy to the Roman Catholics formed the
leading, I may say, the only feature, in the political character
of Saurin, who had simplified the theory of government in
Ireland, by almost making its perfection consist in the oppres-
sion of a majority of its people. Bushe, on the other hand,
had often declared, that he considered the general degradation
of so large a class of the community as incompatible with na-
tional felicity.

This difference of opinion is said to have produced a want
of cordiality between the two servants of the crown : Bushe,
however, with all his liberality of feeling (and I have no

three shouts of joy over his coffin. A like demonstration marked the funeral
of Lord Chancellor Clai-e, in Ireland ; he had threatened to make the Irish
people " tame as cats," and the exasperated thousands who gladly witnessed
the close of his career, flung heaps of dead cats upon his coffin. — M.

* Mr. Saurin, Attorney-General to Ireland from 1807 until 1822, is the sub
ject of a subsequent sketch. — M.

THE CATHOLIC BOARD. 138

doubt that Ins professions were entirely sincere), was of infin-
itely more use to the government than Saurin could possibly
have been, when the suppression of tho Roman Catholic board*
was resolved upon. The latter, upon the trial of the delegates,
exhibited a sombre virulence, which was calculated to excite
wonder rather than conviction. Its gloomy animosity was
without a ray of eloquence.

Bushe produced a very different effect. He stood before the
jury as the advocate of the Catholic cause, to suppress the
Roman Catholic board. The members of that body had been
designated as miscreants by Mr. Saurin (that learned gentle-
man appears to be averse to any circumlocutory form of phrase) ;
Solicitor-General Bushe called them his friends. With a con-
summate wile he professed himself the champion of the people,
and put forth all his ardor in insisting upon the necessity of
concession to six millions of men. To the utterance of these
sentiments, which astonished Mr. Saurin, he annexed the full
power of his wonderful delivery.! His countenance became
inflamed ; his voice assumed all the varieties of its most im-
passioned intonation ; and his person was informed and almost
elevated by the consciousness of the noble thoughts which he
was enforcing, for the purpose of investing the very fallacies

* The Roman Catholic Board was the precursor of the Catholic Association
of 1825. Before it dissolved, it voted O'Connell a service of plate worth one
thousand pounds sterling, as an acknowledgment of his zeal and ability. — M.

t Bushe's manner must have been very good. Phillips, writing in 1818, thus
described it : " To be properly appreciated, Bushe must be seen and heard.
He is the living justification of Demosthenes' dictum — emphatically the orator
of manner. His eye — his face — his gesture — his very hand, speaks; all
grace, all sweetness, all expression — his tongue, dropping manna, is, perhaps,
the most silent organ of his oratory." In 1850, Phillips again said : " By na-
ture enrich0^. I with the rare gift of genius, he engrafts on it every grace that art
can furnish The sweet-toned tongue, lavishing profusely the treasures of lan-
guage, intellect, and learning, speaks not more expressively to heart or head,
than the glance, the action, the attitude, which wait upon his words, as it were,
with an embodied eloquence." He subsequently praised the consummate act-
ing, where " not one trace of art betrays the toil by which it has been fashioned
into Nature's image," and eulogizes " the might of his reasoning, the music of
bis diction, and the absolute enchantment of his exquisite delivery." fUis i»
high praise, but most of his contemporaries have said as much. — M.

134 CHARLES KENDAL

which he intended to inculcate with the splendid semblancei
of truth.

After having wrought his hearers to a species of enthusiasm,
and alarmed Attorney-General Saurin by declaring, with an
attitude almost as noble as the sentiment which it was intended
to set off, that he would throw the constitution to his Catholic
countrymen as widely open as his own breast, he suddenly
turned back, and, after one of those pauses, the effect of which
can be felt by those only who have been present upon such
occasions, in the name of those very principles of justice which
he had so powerfully laid doAvn, he implored the jury to sup-
press an institution in the country, which he asserted to be the
greatest obstacle to the success of that measure, for the attain-
ment of which it had been ostensibly established.

The eloquence of Mr. Bushe, assisted by certain contrivances
behind the scenes, to which government is, in Dublin, occa-
sionally obliged to resort, produced the intended effect. I
doubt not that a jury so properly compounded (the panel of
which, if not suggested, was at least revised) would have given
a verdict for the crown, although Mr. Bushe had never ad-
dressed them. But the government stood in need of something
more than a mere verdict. It was necessary to give plausi-
bility to their proceedings, and they found it in the oratory of
this distinguished advocate. Is it not a little surprising that
Mr. Bushe should, in despite of the vigor of his exertions against
the Catholic board, and their success, have still retained his
popularity 1 It would be natural that such services as he con-
ferred upon the ministry, which appeared so much at variance
with the interests, and in Avhich he acted a part so diametri-
cally in opposition to the passions of the people, should have
generated a feeling of antipathy against him. But the event
was otherwise. He had previously ingratiated himself so much
in the general liking, and so liberal an allowance was made
for the urgency of the circumstances in which he was placed,
that he retained the favor not only of the better classes among
the Roman Catholics, Vut did not lose the partialities of the
populace itself. At all events, the benefits he rendered to the

CHIEF BARON*S CASE.

government were most material, and gave him the strongest
claims upon their gratitude.*

Another remarkable instance occurred not very long ago, of
the value of such a man to the Irish administration, and it is
the more deserving of mention, as it is connected with circum-
stances which have excited no inconsiderable interest in the
House of Commons, and brought Mr. Plunket and his rival into
'an immediate and honorable competition. I allude to the case
of the Chief Baron 0'Grady,t when he set up a claim to nomi-
nate to the office of clerk of the pleas in the Court of Exche-
quer in Ireland. The prize for which the learned Judge was
adventuring was a great one, and well worth the daring experi-
ment for which he exposed himself to the permanent indigna-
tion of the government. The salary of the office was to be
counted by thousands, and the Chief Baron thought it would
be as conducive to the public interests, and as consistent with
the pure administration of justice, that he should appoint one
of his own family to fill the vacancy which had occurred, as
that the local ministry of Ireland should make the appoint-
ment. The matter was brought before Parliament ; and much

* At Kilkenny private theatricals, when pressed for an opinion, he said that
he preferred the prompter, for he heard the most and saw the least of him. At
a dinner given by a Dublin Orangeman, when politics ran high, and Bushe was
suspected of holding pro-Catholic opinions, the host indulged so freely that he
fell under the table. The Duke of Richmond, who then was Viceroy, picked
him up and replaced him in the chair. " My Lord Duke," said Bushe, " though
you say I am attached to the Catholics, at all events I never assisted at the
elevation of the Host." Sir Robert Peel, who was present, related this bon-mot.
One of Bushe's relations, who rarely indulged in any ablutions, complained of a
sore throat. " Fill a pail with hot water, until it reach your knees ; then take
a pint of oatmeal, and scrub your legs with it for quarter of an hour," was what
Bushe recommended as a remedy. " Why, hang it ! man," said the other,
"that's washing one's feet." — "I admit, my dear fellow," replied Bushe,
gravely, "it is liable to that objection." — M.

t Standish O'Grady, born in 1766, called to the bar in 1787, appointed
Attorney-General for Ireland in 1803, and made Chief Baron of the Irish Ex-
chequer, which office he held until 1831, when he was created Viscount Guil-
lamore and Baron O'Grady, in the peerage of Ireland. He died April 21, 1840,
aged seventy-four. He was a man of shrewd and caustic wit, a good lawyer,
and a social companion. He was very proud" of his family, which was one of the
•Idest in Ireland. — M.

CitARLEg KENDAl

was said, though I think unjustly, upon the ambitious cupidity
of his pretensions. The right of nomination was made the
subject of legal proceedings by the Crown ; and the Attorney-
General, Mr. Saurin, thought proper to controvert the claims
of the Chief Baron in the shape of a quo warranto, which was
considered a harsh and vexatious course by the friends of the
learned Judge, in order to ascertain the naked question of
right. The latter secured Mr. Plunket as his advocate. He
had been his early friend, and had contributed, it was said, to
raise him to the place of Solicitor when he was himself ap-
pointed to that of Attorney-General, and had lived with him
upon terms of the most familiar intercourse. It was stated —
but I can not answer for the truth of the general report — that
he sent him a fee of three hundred pounds, which Mr. Plunket
returned, but which the Chief Baron's knowledge of human
nature (and no man is more deeply read in it) insisted upon
his acceptance— partly, perhaps, because he did not wish to
be encumbered with an unremunerated obligation, and no
doubt because he was convinced, as every lawyer is by his
professional experience, that the greatest talents stand in need
of a pecuniary excitation, and that the emotions of friendship
must be stimulated by that sense of duty which is imposed by
the actual perception of gold.* I am sure that Mr. Plunket
would have strained his mind to the utmost pitch, without this
additional incentive, upon behalf of his learned friend ; but
still the Chief Baron exhibited his accustomed sagacity, in in-
sisting upon the payment of a fee.

This was a great cause. The best talents at the bar were
arrayed upon both sides. The issue was one of the highest
importance, and to which the legislature looked forward with
anxiety. The character of one of the chief Judges of the land
was in some degree at stake, as well as the claims which he
had so enterprisingly advanced ; and every circumstance con-
spired to impart an interest to the proceedings, which does not

* It is recorded of the eminent Dr. Radcliffe, founder of the library at Ox-
ford which bears his name, that when he felt unwell he used always to take a
guinea out of one pocket and deposite it in another (as a fee), before he would
feel his own pulse and prescribe for himself. — M.

BTJSHE'S REPLY. 137

frequently arise. Mr. Saurin stated the case for the Crown
with his usual solemnity and deliberation, and with that accu-
racy and simplicity which render him so valuable an advocate
in a court of equity. He was followed by Mr. Plunket, who
entered warmly into the feelings of his client, and thought that
an unfair mode of proceeding had been adopted in his regard.
He exhibited in his reply that fierce spirit of sarcasm which
he has not yet fully displayed in the House of Commons,
though it is one of the principal ingredients in his eloquence.
His metaphors are generally sneers, and his flowers of speech
are the aconite in full blow. He did not omit the opportunity
of falling upon his political antagonist, in whom he left many
a scar, which, though half-healed, are visible to the present
day. His oration was as much a satire as an argument, and
exhibited in their perfection the various attributes of his mind.

As for Bushe, who had to reply, his oratorical ambition was
in all probability powerfully excited by the sentiment of emu-
lation, and he exerted all the resources of his intellect in the
contest. His speech was a masterpiece ; and in the general
opinion, in those parts of it which principally consisted of de-
clamatory vituperation, he won the palm from his competitor.
He was pure, lofty, dignified, and generously impassioned. If
his reasoning was not so subtile and condensed, it was more
guileless and persuasive, and his delivery far more impressive
and of a higher and more commanding tone. A very accurate
and cold-blooded observer would have perceived, perhaps, in
the speech of Mr. Plunket, a deeper current of thought and a
more vigorous and comprehensive intellect : but the great pro-
portion of a large assembly would have preferred the eloquence
of Bushe. The true value of it can not be justly estimated by
any particular quotations, as the chief merit of all his speeches
consists in the unity and proportion of the whole, rather than
the beauty and perfection of the details.*

The great reputation obtained by Mr. Plunket in the House
of Commons, and which has given him a sway so much more
important, and a station so much more valuable than any pro-

* Brougham said of Bushe's five hours' speech in the Trimbleston cause, that
the narrative of Livy himself did not surpass that great effort. — M.

1S8 CHARLES IvEtfbAL

fessional elevation, no matter how exalted, can bestow must
have often excited in the mind of Mr. Bushe, as well as in his
admirers, a feeling of regret that he did not offer himself as a
candidate for a seat in the Imperial Parliament. It is the opin-
ion of all those who have had the opportunity of hearing Mr.
Bushe, that he would have made a very great figure in the
English House of Commons ; and for the purpose of enabling
those who have not heard him to form an estimate of the like-
lihood of his success in that assembly, and of the frame and
character of his eloquence, a general delineation of this accom-
plished advocate may not be inappropriate.

The first circumstance which offers itself to the mind of any
man, who recalls the recollection of Bushe, in order to furnish
a description of his rhetorical attributes, is his delivery. In
bringing the remembrance of other speakers of eminence to
my contemplation, their several faculties and endowments
present themselves in a different order, according to the pro-
portions of excellence to each other which they respectively
bear. In thinking, for example, of Mr. Fox, the torrent of his
vehement and overwhelming logic is first before me. ... If
I should pass to his celebrated antagonist, I repose upon the
majesty of his amplification. The wit of Sheridan,* the bla-

* Richard Brinsley Sheridan, bora at Dublin in 1751, died in London, July
7, 1816. He was eminently distinguished, as a wit, boon-companion, orator,
politician, and dramatist, at a time when eminent men were abundant. He
was the friend of Fox, and long the intimate of the Prince of Wales. Habits
of improvidence and extravagance made him constantly in difficulties. Intem-
perate habits ruined his health, and he died, broken in spirit, and in great
want. His wit and eloquence were remarkable. Having stated that he never
spoke well until after he had drank a couple of bottles of port, Father O'Leary
said " this was like a porter; he could, not get on without a load on his head."
When he wrote, he always drank. " A glass of wine," he used to say, "would
encourage the bright thought to come : and then it was right to take another to
reward it for coming." — Moore's Life of Sheridan, although naturally apologetic
for its subject, is a brilliant record of a brilliant career. Byron's opinion of
Sheridan, hastily thrown off in conversation, was this : " Whatever Sheridan
has done or chosen to do has been par excellence, always the best of its kind.
He has written the best comedy (School for Scandal), the best opera (the
Duenna — in my mind far better than that St. Giles's lampoon, The Beggar's
Opera), the best farce (The Critic — it is only too good for an after-piece), and
the best address (Monologue on Garrick), and to crown all, delivered the very

LOM) EfcSKTNE. 139

zing imagination and the fantastic drollery of Ctirran, the
forensic and simple vigor of Erskine,* and the rapid, versatile,

best oration (the famous Reform Speech), ever conceived or heard in this
country." When Sheridan heard this compliment, shortly before his death,
he burst into tears. — Moore's own tribute of the same date was less compli-
mentary. In his " Two-Penny Post-Bag," describing a fashionable dinner in
London, he said : —

" The brains were near Sherry, and once had been fine,
But, of late, they had lain so long soaking in wine,
That, though we, from courtesy, still choose to call
These brains very fine,' they were no brains at all." '• *

Compare this, also, with Byron's Monody in which he says that —
" Nature formed but one such man,

And broke the die, in moulding Sheridan,"
and Moore's own later mention of him as —

" The pride of the palace, the bower, and the hall,

The orator — dramatist — minstrel — who ran
Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all." — M.
* Thomas Erskine, third son of the Earl of Buchan, a Scottish peer, v>aa
born in 1750. After serving in the navy and the army he went to the bar in
1778. Five years after (which was unusually rapid) he was made King's
Counsel — a rank which advances the status of him who receives it. In the
same year he entered Parliament. As an advocate (for he never was much of
a lawyer) he obtained great practice and much eminence. In politics he sided
with Fox, and thus became intimate with the Prince of Wales, who made him
his Attorney-General — a post which he lost on undertaking the defence of
Thomas Paine, in 1792, when prosecuted for publishing " The Rights of Man."
His subequent defence of Hardy, Home Tooke, and others, charged with high
treason, and his vindication of the rights of the subject and the liberty of the -*>
presa, made him extremely popular. His pamphlet on the War with France,
ran through forty-eight editions, owing to his name alone, for it was not well
written. In 1802, he resumed his official connection with the Prince of Wales,
and, in 1806, on Pitt's death, was created Lord Erskine and made Lord Chan-
cellor, but had to resign in 1807, when the ministry broke up. He obtained the
usual retiring pension of four thousand pounds sterling a year (now five thou-
sand pounds sterling), which is considered a right in England, whore a lawyer ^/
can not go back to practice at the bar after having filled the office of judge.
He soon sank into obscurity, and became involved in debt. Lord Erskine died
in 1823. He had no success in Parliament, where, for the most part, barristers
accustomed to speak to the tirray of judge, jury, and counsel, resemble the man
ipoken of by Locke, in his chapter on tb,e association of ideas, who having)
learned to dance in a room where his trunk lay, could never dance afterward!
where that trunk was not present to witness his agility. Erskine was so fond
of talking of himself that he was nick-mimed and caricatured as " Counsellor

140 CttATCLTCS KENDAL BUSHE.

and incessant intensity, of Plunket — are the first associations
which connect themselves with their respective names. But
there is no one peculiar faculty of mind which suggests itself
in the first instance as the characteristic of Mr. Bushe, and
which presses into the van of his qualifications as a public
speaker. The corporeal image of the man himself is brought
at once into the memory. I do not think of any one distin-
guishing attribute in the shape of a single intellectual abstrac-
tion.— it is a picture that I have before me.

There is a certain rhetorical -heroism in the expression of
his countenance, when enlightened and inflamed, which I have
not witnessed in the faces of other men. The phrase may,
perhaps, appear too extravagant and Irish ; but those who
have his physiognomy in their recollection, will not think that
the word is inapplicable. The complexion is too sanguineous
and ruddy, but has no murkiness or impurity in its flush : it is
indicative of great fullness, but, at the same time, of great
vigor of temperament. The forehead is more lofty than ex-
pansive, and suggests itself to be the residence of an elevated
rather than of a comprehensive mind. It is not so much
" the dome of thought," as "the palace of the soul." It has
none of the deep furrows and intellectual indentures which are
observable in the forehead of Plunket, but is smooth, polished,
and marble. The eyes are large, globular, and blue ; ex-
tremely animated with idea, but without any of that diffusive
irradiation which belongs to the expression of genius. They
are filled with a serene light, but have not much brilliancy or
fire. The mind within them seems, however, to be all activity
and life, and to combine a singular mixture of intensity and
deliberation. The nose is lightly arched, and with sufficient
breadth of the nostrils (which physiognomists consider as a
type of eloquence) to furnish the associations of daring and

Ego." — Once, on a trial of a patent for a shoe-buckle, he exclaimed, "How
would my ancestors have looked at this specimen of modern dexterity?" and
went on to laud his ancestors. Mingay, on the other side contemptuously re-
marked that if Erskine's sans-culotte ancestors would have wondered at hii
shoe-buckle, their astonishment would have been yet greater at — his shoes and
Stockings; the Scotch Highlanders wore neither. — M.

HIS EXPRESSIVE FACE. 141

of power, and terminates with a delicacy and chiseled elegance
of proportion, in which it is easy to discover the polished irony
and refined satire in which he is accustomed to indulge. But
the mouth is the most remarkable feature in his countenance :
it is endowed with the greatest variety of sentiment, and con-
tains a rare assemblage of oratorical qualities. It is charac-
teristic of force, firmness, and precision, and is at once affable
and commanding, proud and kind, tender .and impassioned,
accurate and vehement, generous and sarcastic, and is capable
of the most conciliating softness and the most impetuous ire.
Yet there is something artificial about it, from a lurking
consciousness of its own expression. Its smile is the great
instrument of its effects, but appears to be too systematic :
yet it is susceptible of the nicest gradations. It merely flashes
and disappears, or, in practised obedience to the will, streams
over the whole countenance in a broad and permanent illumin-
ation : at one moment it just passes over the lips, and dies at
the instant of its birth ; and at another, bursts out into an
exuberant and overflowing joyousness, and seems caught, in
the fullness of its hilarity, from the face of Comus himself.
But it is to satire that it is principally and most effectually ap-
plied. It is the glitter of the poisoned sneer that is leveled at
the heart.

The man who is gifted with these powers of physiognomy »
is, naturally enough, almost too prodigal of their use: and a '
person who watched Mr. Bushe would perceive, that he fre-
quently employed the abundant resources of his countenance
instead of the riches of his mind. With him, indeed, a look
is often sufficient for all purposes. It

"Conveys a libel in a frown,
And winks a reputation down."

There is a gentleman at the Irish bar, Mr. Henry Deane
Grady,* one of whose eyes he has himself designated as "hie

* Henry Deane Grady was a barrister of some celebiity in Ireland. He long
had a large income as one of the counsel to the Irish Commissioners of Cus-
tom and Excise, and retired on a pension of two thousand pounds sterling a
year. He had what O'Connell used to call " a swivel eye," which he could
bring to bear, curiously enough, upon a jury. H-is wink, it was declared tuid
as much as many a rival's speech. — M.

142 CHARLES KENDAL BUSHE.

jury eye j" and, indeed, from his frequent application of its
ludicrous qualifications, which the learned gentleman often
substitutes in the place of argument, even where argument
might be obviously employed, has acquired a sort of profes-
sional distortion, of which he appears to be somewhat singu-
larly proud. Mr. Bushe does not, it is true, rely so much upon
this species of ocular logic ; but even he, with all his good
taste, carries it to an extreme. It never amounts to the buf-
foonery of the old school of Irish barristers, who were addicted
to a strange compound of tragedy and farce ; but still it is
vicious from its excess.

The port and attitude of Mr. Bushe are as well suited to the
purposes of impressiveness as his countenance and its expres-
sion. His form, indeed, is rather too corpulent and heavy, and
if it were not concealed in a great degree by his gown, would
\be considered ungainly and inelegant. His stature is not
1 above the middle size; but his chest is wide and expansive,
and lends to his figure an aspect of sedateness and strength.
In describing the ablest of his infernal senate, Milton has
particularly mentioned the breadth of his "Atlantean shoul-
ders." The same circumstance is specified by Homer in his
picture of Ulysses ; and however many speakers of eminence

(have overcome the disadvantages of a weak and slender con-
figuration, it can not be doubted that we associate with dignity
an'l wisdom an accompaniment of massiveness and power.

His gesture is of the first order. It is finished and rounded

with that perfect care, which the orators of antiquity bestowed

upon the external graces of eloquence, and is an illustration

of the justice of the observation made by the master of them

j all, that action was not only the chief ingredient, but almost

; the exclusive constituent, of excellence in his miraculous art.

There is unquestionably much of that native elegance about

it, which is to the body what fancy and imagination are to the

mind, and which no efforts of the most laborious diligence can

acquire. But the heightening and additions of deep study are

apparent. The most minute particulars are attended to. So

£, | far, indeed, has an observance of effect oeen carried, that, in

serious obedience to the ironical precept of the satirist, he

HIS PC TSHED DELIVERY. 143

wears a large gold ring, wliicli is frequently and ostentatiously
displayed upon his weighty and commanding hand. But it ia\
the voice of this fine speaker which contains the master-spell
of his perfections. I have already mentioned its extraordinary
attributes, and, indeed, it must be actually heard in order to
form any appreciation of its effects.

It must be acknowledged by the admirers of Mr. Bushe, that
his delivery constitutes his chief merit as an advocate, for his
other powers, however considerable, do not keep pace with it.
His style and diction are remarkably conspicuous and clear,
but are deficient in depth. He- has a remarkable facility in
the use of simple and unelaborated expression, and every word
drops of its own accord into that part of the sentence to which
it most properly belongs. The most accurate ear could not
easily detect a single harshness, or one in'harmonious concur-
rence of sounds, in the course of his longest and least pre-
meditated speech. But, at the same time, there is some want
of power in his phraseology, which is not either very original
or picturesque. He indulges little in his imagination, from a
dread, perhaps, of falling into those errors to which his coun-
trymen are so prone, by adventuring upon the heights which
overhang them. But I am, at the same time, inclined to
suspect that nature has not conferred that faculty in great
excellence upon him. An occasional flush gleams for a mo-
ment over his thoughts, but it is less the lightning of the
imagination, than the warm exhalation of a serene and mete-
oric fancy.*

Ourran, with all his imperfections, would frequently redeem
the obscurity of his language, by a single expression that
threw a wide and piercing illumination far around him, and
left a track of splendor upon the memory of his audience
which was slow to pass away; but, if Bushe has avoided the
defects into which the ambition and enthusiasm of Ourran

* Lord Brougham, who did not make Bushe's acquaintance until 1839, when
he went to London to give evidence before the Irish Committee in the House
of Lords, then formed the very high opinion of him which he expressed in his
Statesmen. He said, " all that one had heard of the wonderful fascinatioi. of
his mann<yr, both at the bar and upon the bench, became easily credible to those
who heard his evidence." — M.

144 CHARLES KENDAL BUSIIE.

were accustomed to hurry him, he has not approached him in
richness of diction, or in that elevation of thought to which
that great speaker had the power of raising his hearers with
himself. He was often " led astray," but it was " by light
from Heaven." On the other hand, the more level and sub-
dued cast of thinking and of phrase, which have been adopted
by Mr. Bushe, are better suited to cases of daily occurrence ;
and I own that I should prefer him for my advocate, in any
transaction which required the art of exposition, and the
elucidating quality which is so important in the conduct of
ordinary affairs. He has the power of simplifying in the
highest degree. He evolves, with a surprising facility, the
most intricate facts from the most embarrassing complication,
and reduces, in a moment, a chaotic heap of incongruous
materials into symmetry and order. In what is called " the
narration" in discourses upon rhetoric, his talent is of the first
rank. He clarifies and methodises every topic upon which he
dwells, and makes the obscurest subject perspicuous and trans-
parent to the dullest mind.

His wit is perfectly gentlemanlike and pure.* It is not so
vehement and sarcastic as that of Plunket, nor does it grope
for pearls, like the imagination of Ourran, in the midst of foul-
ness and ordure. It is full of smooth mockery and playfulness,
and dallies with its victim with a sort of feline elegance and
grace. But its gripe is not the less deadly for its procrasti-
nation. His wit has more of the qualities of raillery than of
imagination. He does not accumulate grotesque images to-
gether, or surprise by the distance of the objects between which
he discovers an analogy. He has nothing of that spirit of
whim which pervaded the oratory of Curran, and made his
mind appear at moments like a transmigration of Hogarth.
Were a grossly ludicrous similitude to offer itself to him, he
would at once discard it as incompatible with that chastised

* His conversation merited Brougham's eulogy that " nothing could be more
delightful." His wit came without effort. Once, when two bishops declared
that, in choosing the officers of the Ecclesiastical Board, they must vote for the
nominees of the minister, to whom they owed their mitres, Bushe sent a slip
to Plunket, " It is he that hath made us and not we ourselves : we are hif
people, and the sh^ep of his pasture." — M.

HIS EASY AND EVEtf STYLE. 14:5

and subjugated ridicule in which alone he permits himself to
indulge.

But from this circumstance he draws a considerable advan-
tage. The mirth of Curran was so broad, and the convulsion
of laughter, which by his personations (for his delivery often
bordered upon a theatrical audacity) he never failed, when-
ever he thought proper, to produce, disqualified his auditors
and himself for the more sober investigations of truth. His
transitions, therefore, were frequently too abrupt ; and with
all his mastery over his art, and that Protean quality by which
he passed with an astonishing and almost divine facility into
every different modification of style and thought, a just gra-
dation from the extravagance of merriment to the depth of
pathetic emotion could not always be preserved. Bushe, on
the other hand, never finds it difficult to recover himself.
Whenever he deviates from that sobriety which becomes the
discussions of a court of justice, he retraces his steps and re-
turns to seriousness again, not only with perfect ease, but with-
out even leaving a perception of the change. His manner is
admirably chequered, and the various topics which he employs,
enter into each other by such gentle and elegant degrees, that
all the parts of his speech bear a just relation, and are as well
proportioned as the several limbs of a fine statue to the gene-
ral composition of the whole. This unity, which in all the arts
rests upon the same sound principles, is one of the chief merits
of Mr. Bushe as a public speaker.

There is a fine natural vein of generous sentiment running
through his oratory. It has often been said that true elo-
quence could not exist in the absence of good moral qualities.
In opposition to this maxim of ethical criticism, the example
of some highly-gifted but vicious men has been appealed to ;
but it must be remembered, in the first place, that most of
those whose deviations from good conduct are considered to
afford a practical refutation of this tenet (which was laid down
by the greatest orator of antiquity) were not engaged in the
discussion of private concerns, in which, generally speaking,
an appeal to moral feeling is of most frequent occurrence; and
in the next place, there can be little doiibt, that although $
I,— 7

146 CHARLES KENDAL BUSHE.

series of vicious indulgences may Lave adulterated their na-
tures, they must have been endowed with a large portion of
generous instinct. However their moral vision might have
been gradually obscured, they could not have been born blind
to that sacred light which they knew how to describe so well.
Nay, more: I will venture to affirm, that, in their moments of
oratorical enthusiasm, they must have been virtuous men.

As the best amongst us fall into occasional error, so in the
spirit of lenity to that human nature to which we ourselves
belong, we should cherish the hope that there are few indeed
i.*o bad, as not in imagination at least to relapse at intervals to
better sentiment and a nobler cast of thought. However the
fountains of the heart may have been dried and parched up,
Menough must at least remain to show that there had been a
living spring within them. At all events there can be no elo-
/ quence without such an imitation of virtue, as to look as beau-
• tiful as the original from which the copy is made. Mr. Bushe,
I confidently believe, bears the image stamped upon his breast,
and has only to feel there, in order to give utterance to those
sentiments which give a moral dignity and elevation to his
speeches. His whole life, at least, is in keeping with his ora-
tory j* and any one who heard him would be justly satisfied that

* Charles Kendal Bushe, born in January, 1767, at Kilmurry (the ancient
«eat of his family, which he eventually repurchased after the extravagance of
his relatives had lost it), entered Trinity College, Dublin, in 1782 — the year
of Ireland's independence. He soon became one of the most eloquent deba-
ters in the Historical Society, where he had Plunket as a rival. At that time,
the gallery of the Irish House of Commons was open to the University students,
provided they wore their academic attire. Bushe was a constant attendant in
that great school for orators. In 1793, he was called to the bar, and speedily
succeeded there. In 1799, he entered Parliament, where he was second only
to Plunket in opposing the Union. In 1805, he had reached such a station at
Lie bar, as to justify his being made one of the King's Sergeants, and in the
name year, Lord Hardwicke being Viceroy, was appointed Solicitor-General.
This was a concession to the liberal cause, for Bushe was known to be friendly
to Catholic Emancipation, though, after the Union, he had taken no part in
politics. He continued in his office under "All the Talents" Ministry of 1806-7,
and was retained in that office, under successive administrations, until early in
1822, when Saurin, put over his head in 1807, as Attorney-General, waived
ins claims to the Chief Justiceship, on Downes' retirement, and Bushe was ap«
ppinted. As a judge, Bushe gave general satisfaction? for more than twenty

147

he had been listening to a high-minded, amiable, and honora-
ble man.

The following extract from one of his best speeches will
illustrate the quality to which I have alluded, as well as fur-
nish a favorable example of the general tone of his eloquence.*
He is describing the forgiveness of a husband ; and, as this
article has already exceeded the bounds which I had prescrib-
ed to myself, I shall conclude with it: "It requires obdurate
and habitual vice and practised depravity to overbear the nat-
ural workings of the human heart : this unfortunate woman
had not strength farther to resist. She had been seduced, she
had been depraved, her soul was burdened with a guilty se-
cret; but she was young in crime and true to nature. She
could no longer bear the load of her own conscience — she was

years while he held that office. As an advocate at Nisi Prius, few men won
more verdicts. He had tact for which Scarlett was eminent, at the English
bar, but he also had genius, eloquence, and wit, which Scarlett had not. His
manner has already been noticed ; John Kemble called him " the most perfect
actor off the stage." As a forensic speaker, clearness of statement was his
great merit. — Bushe married the sister of Sir Philip Crampton, the Surgeon
General of Ireland and father of the present British Minister at Washington.
He was offered a peerage and declined it. — In 1842, he retired frem the bench,
on a pension of three thousand pounds sterling a year. He died, at his son's
seat near Dublin, on July 7, 1843. — M.

* The nobleman was Lord Cloncurry, and his guilty wife, from whom he
was divorced, was daughter of General Morgan. Lord Cloncurry was born
in August, 1773, and died at Blackrock, near Dublin, October, 1853. He
enteied early into public affairs, and was mixed up with them tor more than
half a century. He was educated at Oxford, and joined the United Irishmen,
on his return. The Emmetts, Sampson, and O'Coimor, were his close friends.
He established a branch of the united body in London, was suspected by the
Government, arrested, and examined before the I'rivy Council, when he ad-
mitted that he was a member of the society. He was cautioned and discharged,
but was again apprehended, committed to the Tower, and detained there for
two years. From that time he was a staunch Liberal, and, though a Protes-
tant, the earnest advocate of the Catholic Claims. He was O'Connell's per-
sonal friend and admirer — though he did not go quite to the same extent in
politics. The Whig Ministry gave him an English Peerage. A few years
ago, he published his Recollections — full of anecdotes, and written with great
clearness. He bequeathed a handsome legacy to the Dublin Library — provi-
ded it assume the more national name of the Hibernian Athenaeum. Cecil
Lawless, his youngest son, avowed himself a Repealer, in 1846, when he w«f
piado member for Clonmel. — M.

148 CHARLES KENDAL BUSHE.

overpowered by the generosity of an injured husband, more
keen than any reproaches — she was incapacitated from any
further dissimulation; she flung herself at his feet. 'I am
unworthy,' she exclaimed, ' of such tenderness and such good-
ness— it is too late — the villain has ruined me and dishonored
vou : I am guilty.' — Gentlemen, I told you I should confine
myself to facts ; I have scarcely made an observation. I will
not affront my client's case, nor your feelings, nor my own, by
common-placing upon the topic of the plaintiff's sufferings.
You are Christians, men ; your hearts must describe for me ;
I can not — I affect not humility in saying that I can not —
no advocate can; — as I told you, your hearts must be the ad-
vocates. Conceive this unhappy nobleman in the bloom of
life, surrounded with every comfort, exalted with high honors
and distinctions, enjoying great property, the proud proprietor,
a few hours before, of what he thought an innocent and an
amiable woman, the happy father of children whom he loved,
and loved the more as the children of a wife whom he adored
— precipitated in one hour into an abyss of misery which no
language can represent, loathing his rank, despising his wealth,
cursing the youth and health that promised nothing but the
protraction of a wretched existence, looking round upon every
worldly object with disgust and despair, and finding in this
complicated wo no principle of consolation, except the con-
sciousness of not having deserved it. Smote to the earth this
unhappy man forgot not his character; — he raised the guilty
and lost penitent from his feet; he left her punishment to her
conscience and to Heaven ; her pardon he reserved to himself.
The tenderness and generosity of his nature prompted him to
instant mercy — he forgave her — he prayed to God to forgive
her; he told her that she should be restored to the protection
of her father; that until then her secret should be preserved
and her feelings respected, and that her fall from honor should
be as easy as it might; but there was a forgiveness for which
she supplicated, and which he sternly refused; he refused
that forgiveness which implies the meanness of the person who
dispenses it, and which renders the clemency valueless because
jt mfikes the man despicable ; he refused to take back to lu?

HIS FfcOMOTIOtf. 149

arms the tainted and faithless woman who had betrayed him;
he refused to expose himself to the scorn of the world and his
own contempt; — he submitted to misery; he could not brook
dishonor."*

* Since the above article was written [it was published in October 1822],
Mr. Bushe has been raised to the office of Chief Justice of the King's Bemh,
in consequence of the resignation of Mr. Downes, who has at last proved him
self possessed of the Christian virtue which Mr. Bushe used to say was the
only one he wanted.

WILLIAM SAURIN.

MR. SAURIN is the son of a Presbyterian clergyman, who fol-
lowed the duties of his pious but humble calling in the north
of Ireland. His grandfather was a French Protestant, \vho,
after the revocation of the edict of Nantz, sought an asylum in
Ireland. He is said to have belonged to the family of the cel-
ebrated preacher of his name.* Mr. Saurin was educated in
the University of Dublin. It does not appear that he was dis-
tinguished by any signal proficiency, either in literature or in
\ science. A collegiate reputation is not a necessary precursor
I to professional success. He was called to the bar in the year
1780. His progress was slow, and for thirteen years he re-
mained almost unknown. Conscious of his secret merits, he
was not disheartened, and employed that interval in accumu-
lating the stores of legal knowledge. He had few qualities,
indeed, which were calculated to bring him into instantaneous
notice. He wrought his way with an obscure diligence, and,
indeed, it was necessary that he should attain the light by a
long process of exfodation.

To this day, there is too frequent an exhibition of boister-
ous ability at the Irish bar; but in the olden time, the qualifi-

* William Saurin, born in 1757, was called to the Irish bar in 1780, received
a patent of precedence (immediately after the Prime Sergeant, Attorney and
Solicitor General) in July, 1798, was made Attorney-General in May, 1807, and
retained that office until January, 1822, when Mr. Plunket succeeded him. It
was expected, from his high attainments, and the return of his party to office,
that he would have succeeded Sir Anthony Hart, as Chancellor, in 1830. Mr.
Saurin, although a strong political partisan, had many personal friends, even
among his opponents. His honor, honesty, and ability, were unimpeached
He died in Dublin, in February, .1839, in his eighty-third year. — M.

10&D CLONMEL. 151

cations of a lawyer were measured in a great degree by his
powers of vociferation. Mr. Saurin was imperfectly versed in
the stentorian logic which prevailed in the roar of Irish nisi
prius ; neither had he the matchless imperturbability of front,
to which the late Lord Clonmel* was indebted for his brazen

* John Scott, who eventually became Earl of Clonmel, Chief-Justice of Ire-
land, was born in June, 1739. His parents were in a very humble rank of life.
While at school, he rendered some small service to young (afterward Lord)
Carleton, whose father went to the expense of sending him to college, and
of his call to the Irish bar. He speedily rose to eminence, and entered the
Irish Parliament on the recommendation of Lord Lifford, then Chancellor. In
1774 he was made Solicitor, and in 1777 Attorney-General, which he remained
•intil 1782. He was made Chief-Justice of the King's Bench in 1784 — with
which office he also held the rich sinecure of Clerk of the Pleas in the Court
of Exchequer — and was created an Irish peer, as Barori Erlsfort. In 1789, he
was made Viscount Clonmel, and was further advanced to an Earldom in 1793.
He died in May, 1798, leaving a fortune of twenty-two thousand pounds ster-
ling a year. — This man, whose talents were great, may be said to have got on
by sheer impudence and bullying. He knew the world well, and how to play
his cards in it. Where argument would not succeed, he endeavored to defeat
his opponent by duelling. Among others, he fought with Curran. He was
master of sarcasm and ridicule, and unscrupulous in their use. In private life,
he was amiable, witty, and agreeable ; full of anecdote, indelicate and coarse,
but amusing. On the bench he was overbearing, particularly to Curran, his old
opponent. Having publicly insulted Mr. Hackett, one of their body, the bar
held a meeting, at which they resolved, with only one dissentient voice, " that
until his Lordship publicly apologized, no barrister would either take a brief,
appear in the King's Bench, or sign any pleadings for that Court." Accord-
ingly, when the Judges sat, neither counsel nor attorneys were to be seen. The
result was, that the Chief-Justice, Lord Clonmel, published an apology in the
newspapers, which was adroitly dated as if written on the evening of the offence,
and before the meeting of the bar, therefore voluntary. Some time before he
died, a report of his illness got out. " Do you believe it?" said some one to
Curran. The reply was, " I believe that he is scoundrel enough to live or di«,
just as it suits his own convenience" His personal appearance was remarkable.
He had an immense hanging pair of cheeks — vulgarly called jowls — and a
huge treble chin, to correspond. Looking back, toward the close of his politi-
cal career, as behooves all men to do as they pass into the shadows of the valo
of life, Lord Clonmel is said to have remarked, "As to myself, if I were to
begin life again, I would rather be a chimney-sweeper than connected with the
Irish Government." Two of Lord Clonmel's maxims are worthy of being re-
membered One was, " Whatever may be done in the course of the week,
always do on Monday morning." The other, which he gave as applicable te
married life, was — " Never do anything for 'peace-sake : if you do, you buy all

WILLIAM SAtTRltf.

coronet ; but his substantial deserts were sure to appear at last.
If he could not fly, he had the strength and the tenacity requi-
site to climb. His rivals were* engaged in the pursuit of politi-
cal distinction and oratorical renown ; all his labors, as well
as his predilections, were confined to his profession. While
others were indulging in legislative meditations, he was buried
in the common law. An acute observer would have seen in
his unostentatious assiduity the omen of a tardy but secure
success. A splendid intellect will, in all likelihood, ascend to
permanent eminence, but the odds of good fortune are in favor
of the less conspicuous faculties.

Plunket and Saurin have risen to an equality in professional
distinction; but, when they both commenced their career, upon
a sober calculation,- the chances would have been found, I think,
upon the side of the latter. Like the slow camel and the Ara-
bian courser, both may be fitted to the desert ; and, although
the more aspiring and fleeter spirit may traverse in a shorter
period the waste of hardships and discouragement which lies
between it and success, while, with all its swiftness and alac-
rity, it requires an occasional relief from some external source
of refreshment and of hope : yet, bearing its restoratives in it-
self, the more slow and persevering mind pursues its progress
with an unabated constancy, and often leaves its more rapid
but less enduring competitor drooping far behind, and exhausted
by the labors of its desolate and arid course.

After many years of disappointment, perhaps, but not of
despondency, Mr. Saurin's name began to be whispered in the
Hall. The little business with which he had been intrusted
was discharged with such efficiency, that he gradually acquired
a reputation for practical utility among the attorneys of the
north. Many traits of the Scotch character are observable in
the Presbyterian colony which was established in that part of
Ireland ; and their mutuality of support is among the honora-
ble peculiarities which mark their origin from that patriotic
and self-sustaining people. They may be said to advance un-

future tranquillity only by concession." When asked if this last were his own
rule of practice, he confessed that it was not, as a philosopher had an easier
life of it than a soldier! — M.

HIS UtTSINESS HABITS. 153

der a testudo. It is remarked at the Irish bar that a northern
attorney seldom employs a southern advocate. Mr. Saurin,
though descended from a Gallic progenitor, had, I believe, some
auspicious mixture of Caledonian blood (with a French face,
he has a good deal of the Scotchman in his character) ; and
that circumstance, together with the locality of his birth, gave
him claims to the patronage of the attorneys of his circuit.
Those arbiters of fortune recognised his merits. It was soon:
perceived by these sagacious persons that a good argument is }
more valuable than a flower of speech, and that the lawyer who ;
nonsuits the plaintiff is as efficacious as the advocate who draws
tears from the jury.

Mr. Saurin's habits of despatch were also a signal recom- .f
mendation. To this day, under a pressure of various occu-
pancy, he is distinguished for a regularity and promptitude,
which are not often to be found among the attributes of the
leading members of the Irish Bar. Most, indeed, of their more
eminent advocates are " illustrious diners-out." It is provo-
king to see the fortunes of men hanging in miserable suspense
upon their convivial procrastinations. Mr. Saurin still presents
an exemplary contrast to these dilatory habits; and it is
greatly creditable to him that he should persevere, from a
sense of duty in a practice which was originally adopted as a
means of success.

The first occasion on which he appears to have grown into
general notice, was afforded at a contested election. At that
period, which was about sixteen years after he had been called
to the bar, a lawyer at an Irish election was almost a gladiator
by profession ; his pistols were the chief implements of reason-
ing to which he thought it necessary to resort. " Ratio
ultima," the motto which the great Frederick caused to be
engraven upon his cannon,* would not have been an inappro-

* George III. presented " the Great Lord CHve" (as he is called, to distin-
guish him from the small-minded inheritors of his title) with one of the cannon
which had been captured, by Lord C., in the Indian wars. This piece of ord-
nance, which remains at Powis Castle, in Wales (the seat of the Olive family),
has engraven on it an inscription, stating the donor's name, but the sentence
" Ultima ratio regum'' (the last argument of Kings) is certainly a curious motto
on a royal gift. — M.

7*

154 WILLIAM SAtJRttf.

priate designation of the conclusive arguments which wei46
then so much in use in Hibernian dialectics. I am not aware,
that Mr. Saurin was ever accounted an 'eminent professor in
this school of logic: upon this occasion, however, he distin-
guished himself by qualifications very distinct from the bar-
barous accomplishments which bring intellect and dullness to
such a disastrous level. His extensive and applicable knowl-
edge, his dispassionate perspicuity, and minute precision, won
him a concurrence of applause. He became known upon his
circuit, and his fame soon after extended itself to the metropo-
lis. His progress was as swiftly accelerated as it had pre-
viously been slow : every occasion on which he was employed
furnished a new vent to his accumulated information. He was
at length fairly launched ; and when once detached from the
heavy incumbrances in which he had been involved, he made
a rapid and conspicuous way; and it was soon perceived that
he could carry more sail than gilded galliots which had started
upon the full flood of popularity before him. He soon passed
them by, and rode at last in that security which most of them
were never destined to attain.

In the year 1798, Mr. Saurin was at the head of his profes-
sion, and was not only eminent for his talents, but added to
their influence the weight of a high moral estimation. The
political disasters of the country furnished evidence of the
high respect in which he was held by the members of his own
body. The Rebellion broke out, and the genius of loyalty
martialized the various classes of the community. The good
citizens of Dublin were submitted to a somewhat fantastic
metamorphosis : the Gilpins of the metropolis, to the delighted
wonder of their wives and daughters, were travestied into
scarlet, and strutted, in grim importance and ferocious security,
in the uneasy accoutrements of a bloodless warfare.

The love of glory became contagious, and the attorneys,
solicitors, and six-clerks, felt the intense novelty of its charms.
The Bar could not fail to participate in the ecstasy of patriot-
ism : the boast of Cicero became inverted in this access of
forensic soldiership, and every Drances, "loud in debate and
bold in peaceful council," was suddenly transformed into a

TltE LAWYERS YE&MANRY CORPS. 155

warrior. The " toged counsel" exhibited a spectacle at once
ludicrous and lamentable ; Justice was stripped of her august
ceremony and her reverend forms, and joining in this grand
political masquerade, attired herself in the garb, and feebly
imitated the aspect of Bellona. The ordinary business of the
courts of law was discharged by barristers in regimentals ; the
plume nodded over the green spectacle — the bag was trans-
muted in the cartridge-pouch — the flowing and full-bottomed
wig was exchanged for the casque; the chest, which years of
study had bent into a professional stoop, was straightened in
a stiff imprisonment of red ; the flexible neck, which had been
stretched in the distension of vituperative harangue, was en-
closed in a high and rigid collar. The disputatious and dingy
features of every minute and withered sophist were swollen
into an unnatural bigness and burliness of look; the strut of
the mercenary Hessian,* who realized the beau ideal of martial
ferocity, was mimicked in the slouching gait which had been
acquired by years of unoccupied perambulation in the Hall ;
limbs, habituated to yielding silk, were locked in buff; the
reveille superseded the shrill voice of the crier — the disquisi-
tions of pleaders were "horribly stuffed with epithets of war;"
the bayonet lay beside the pen, and the musket was collateral
to the brief.

Yet, with all this innovation upon their ordinary habits, the
Bar could not pass all at once into a total desuetude of their
more natural tendencies, and exhibited a relapse into their
professional predilections in the choice of their leader. The
athletic nobleness of figure for which Mr. Magrath,f for in-

* The Hessians were troops from Germany, brought into Ireland with some
Scotch fencible regiments, in 1798 — probably because the Government doubted
wnether the regular troops, half of whom were Irish, would fight against their
countrymen in the field. A story is told of one of the "rebels" who killed a
couple of Hessians, and was putting the contents of their pockets into his own.
A friend of his saw the conquest, and prayed hard to have one of the captures.
" No," said the conqueror, " go and kill a Hessian for yourself!" The saying
*ias passed into a proverb in Ireland. — M.

f Counsellor Magrath rejoiced in such longitudinal proportions, that he was
jal.ed the mathematical definition, " Length without breadth." As he is sev-
eral tisies mentioned in these sketches, and always with reference to his inche§.

15(5 WtLLlAM SAtTRIff.

stance, is conspicuous, did not obtain their suffrages : a grena-
dier proportion of fame, and a physical pre-eminence of height,
were not the merits which decided their preference ; they chose
Mr. Saurin for his intellectual stature ; and in selecting a
gentleman, in whom I am at a loss to discover one glance of
the " coup d'ceil militaire" and whose aspect is among the most
un soldierlike I have ever witnessed, they offered him an honor-
able testimony of the great esteem in which he was held by
his profession. He was thus, in some degree, recognised as
the head of the body to which he belonged.

His conduct, as chief of the lawyer's corps, was patriotic
and discreet. He manifested none of those religious antipa-
thies by which he has been since unhappily distinguished ; he
had no share, either in the infliction of, or the equivalent con-
nivance at that system of inquisitorial excruciation, which, on
whosesoever head the guilt ought to lie, did unquestionably
exist.* His hands do not smell of blood ; and though a series
of unhappy incidents has since thrown him into the arms of the
Orange faction, to which he has been rather driven by the
rash rancor of his antagonists, than allured through the genuine
tendencies of his nature, in that period of civil commotion he
discountenanced the excesses of the party who now claim him
as their own. With all his present Toryism, he appears to
have been a Whig; and the republican tinge of his opinions
was brought out in the great event which succeeded the Rebel-
lion, and to which the government was aware that it would
inevitably lead. If they did not kindle, they allowed the fire
to rage on ; and they thought, and perhaps with justice, that
it would furnish a lurid light by which the rents and chasms
in the ruinous and ill-constructed fabric of the Irish legisla-
ture would be more widely exposed. To repair such a crazy
and rotten building, many think, was impossible. It y/as

it is probable that Sheil (who was of small stature) envied him not a little. It
was to him that Tom Moore, who was quite a minikin, put the question, as he
looked up at him, " Magrath, it is fine weather here below — how is it up them
aloft with you?" — M.

* Mr. Saurin, during the rebellion, has been seen to strike a drummer of hu
corps for wearing an Orange sockade.

OPPOSES THE UNION. 157

necessary that it should be thrown down* — but the name of
country (and there is a charm even in a name) has been buried
in the fall.

The Union was proposed, and Mr. Saurin threw himself into
an indignant opposition to the measure, which he considered
fatal to Ireland. He called the Bar together ; and upon his
motion, a resolution was passed by a great majority, protesting
against the merging of the country in the Imperial amalgama-
tion. He was elected a member of the Irish House of Com-
mons, and his appearance in that profligate convention was
hailed by Mr. Grattan, who set the highest value upon his
accession to the national cause.

Of eloquence there was already a redundant supply. Genius
abounded in the ranks of the patriots — they were ardent,
devoted, and inspired. Mr. Saurin reinforced them with his
more Spartan qualities. Gr£Ve and sincere, regarded as a
great constitutional lawyer — the peculiar representative of his
own profession — a true, but unimpassioned lover of his country,
and as likely to consult her permanent interests as to cherish
a romantic attachment to her dignity — he rose in the House
of Commons, attended with a great concurrence of impressive
circumstance. He addressed himself to great principles, and
took his ground upon the broad foundations of legislative right,
His more splendid allies rushed among the ranks of their
adversaries and dealt their sweeping invective about them ;
while Saurin, in an iron and somewhat rusty armor, and wielding
more massive and ponderous weapons, stood like a sturdy sen-
tinel before the gates of the constitution. Simple and elemen-
tary positions were enforced by him with a strenuous convic-
tion of their truth. He denied the right of the legislature to
alienate its sacred trust. He insisted that it would amount to
a forfeiture of that estate which was derived from, and held
under the people in whom the reversion must perpetually
remain ; that they were bound to consult the will of the ma-
jority of the nation, and that the will of that majority was the
foundation of all law.

* It must not be forgotten that, in most of these sketches, Mr. Sheil affected
{to write as an JZnglisli observer of politics and men,— -]Vff

158 WILLIAM SAUKIN.

Generous sentiments, uttered with honest fervency, are
important constituents of eloquence ; and Mr. Saurin acquired
the fame of a distinguished speaker. His language was not
flowing or abundant — there was no soaring in his thought, nor
majesty in his elocution ; but he was clear and manly : there
was a plain vigor about him. Thought started through his
diction ; it wanted roundness and color, but it was muscular
and strong. It was not " pinguitudine nitescens." If it were
deficient in bloom and fullness, it had not a greasy and ple-
thoric gloss ; it derived advantages from the absence of decora-
tion, for its nakedness became the simplicity of primitive truth.

Mr. Saurin obtained a well-merited popularity. His efforts
were strenuous and unremitted ; but what could they avail ]
The minister had an easy task to perform : there was, at first,
a show of coyness in the prostitute venality of the majority of
the House ; it only required an increased ardor of solicitation,
and a more fervent pressure of the " itching palm." No man
understood the arts of parliamentary seduction better than
Lord Castlereagh. He succeeded to the full extent of his
undertaking, and raised himself to the highest point of ambition
to which a subject can aspire.

But those who had listened to his blandishments, found, in
the emptiness of title, and in the baseness of pecuniary reward,
an inadequate compensation for the loss of personal conse-
quence which they eventually sustained. In place of the
reciprocal advantages which they might have imparted and
received, by spending their fortunes in the metropolis of their
own country, such among them as are now exported in the
capacity of representatives from Ireland are lost in utter insig-
nificance. Instead of occupying the magnificent mansions
which are now falling into decay, they are domiciliated in
second stories of the lanes and alleys in the vicinity of St.
Stephen's. They may be seen every evening at Bellamy's*

* In the old House of Commons, which formerly had been a Chapel dedi-
cated to St. Stephen, the refreshment-rooms were kept by Mr, Bellamy, whoso
family still cater to the requirements of " the inner man," in the refectory of
the new and splendid Palace of Westminster, erected, at a cost of some two
millions sterling on the banks of the Thames, — M?

THE DEGRADED PEERAGE. 159

digesting their solitary meal, until the " whipper in" has aroused
them to the only purpose for which their existence is recog-
nised; or in the House itself, verifying the prophetic descrip-
tion of Curran, by " sleeping in their collars under the manger
of the British minister."

The case is still worse with the anomalous nobility of the
Irish Peer.* There is a sorry mockery in the title, which is
almost a badge, as it is a product, of his disgrace. He bears
it as the snail does the painted shell elaborated from its slime.
His family are scarcely admitted among the aristocracy, and,
when admitted, it is only to be scorned. It requires the nicest
exercise of subtle stratagem, and the suppression of every
feeling of pride, on the part of an Irish lady, to effect her way
into the great patrician coteries. The scene which Miss Edge-
worth has so admirably described at the saloon of the opera-
house, in which the Irish countess solicits the haughty recog
nition of the English duchess, is of nightly recurrence. Even
great talents are not exempted from this spirit of national
depreciation. Mr. Grattan himself never enjoyed the full
dignity which ought, in every country, to have been an ap-
panage to his genius. As to Lord Clare, he died of a broken
heart. The Duke of Bedford crushed the plebeian peer with a
single tread.f What, then, must be the case with the inferior
class of Irish senators ; and how must they repine at the sui-

* By the Act of Union, it was arranged that the Irish Peers should be repre-
sented in the Imperial Parliament by twenty-eight, chosen from the whole
body, to sit for life. But many of the Irish Peers also have seats in Parliament
as possessors of English titles. Thus the Irish Marquis of Downshire has his
seat in the Imperial Parliament by virtue of his English earldom of Hillsbor-
ough, and the Earl of Bessborough sits for his English barony. No Irish Peer
can represent an Irish county or borough, but the restriction does not apply out
of Ireland. Thus Viscount Palmerston, an Irish Peer, sits in the House of
Commons for the English borough of Tiverton. — M.

t Lord Clare, the first Irishman who ever held the Great Seal of Ireland, was
virtual ruler of that country for years. He exhibited his hauteur to the Viceroy,
the Duke of Bedford, who — with all the pride of the Russell blood — could not
believe, at first, that any man could so insult the representative of royalty.
When assured that it was Lord Clare's wonted manner, the Duke turned his
back on him, before the Privy Council, and let business proceed as if Lord
plwe had nev ?r existed. — Mr

160 WILLIAM SAURIN.

cidal act with which, in their madness, they were tempted to
annihilate their existence !

I have dwelt upon the results of the Union, as it affected
individual importance, because Mr. Saurin appears to have
been sensible of them, and to have acted upon that sense. He
has never since that event set his foot upon the English shore,
He was well aware that he should disappear in the modern
Babylon ;* and with the worldly sagacity by which he is
characterized, when his country lost her national importance,
he preferred to the lacqueying of the English aristocracy the
enjoyment of such provincial influence as may be still obtained
in Ireland. Mr. Fluiiket resigned the situation of Attorney-
General in 1807. It was offered to Mr. Saurin, who accepted it.

This office is, perhaps, the most powerful in Ireland : it is
attended with great patronage, emolument, and authority.
The Attorney-General appoints the judges of the land, and
nominates to those multitudinous places with which the gov-
ernment has succeeded in subduing the naturally democratic
tendencies of the bar. Every measure in any way connected
with the administration of justice originates with him. In
England the Attorney-General is consulted upon the law. In
Ireland he is almost the laAv itself : he not only approves,
but he directs. The personal character of Mr. Saurin gavo
him an additional sway. He gained a great individual ascen-
dency over the mind of the Lord Chancellor. In the Castlet
Cabinet he was almost supreme ; and his authority was the
more readily submitted to, as it was exercised without being
displayed. He was speedily furnished with much melancholy
occasion to put his power into action.

The Catholic Board assumed a burlesque attitude of defi-
ance ; the press became every day more violent ; the news-
papers were tissues of libels, in the legal sense of the word,

* By a flattering, national self-delusion, London is called " Modern Babylon,**
and Edinburgh the " Modern Athens. — M.

t In Ireland, " the Castle" of Dublin is the seat of government, as the Pal-
ace of St. James is (or was) of England. It is the town-residence of the
Lord-Lieutenant, where his Privy Council meet, where he holds his levees and
drawing-rooms, where he gives his State-balls, and where the departmental
of the Executive carry on the business of the state, — Mf

HIS POLITICAL INCONSISTENCY. 161

for they were envenomed with the most deleterious truth.
Prosecutions were instituted and conducted by Mr. Saurin: an
ebullition of popular resentment wab ihe result, and reciprocal
animosity was engendered out of mutual recrimination. The
orators were furious upon one hand, and Mr. Saurin became
enraged upon the other. His real character was disclosed in
the collision. He was abused, I admit, and vilified. The
foulest .accusations were emptied, from their aerial abodes, by
pamphleteers, upon his head. The authors of the garret dis-
charged their vituperations upon him. It Avas natural that he
should get into bad odor; but wedded as he was to the public
interests, he should have borne these aspersions of the popular
anger with a more Socratic temper. Unhappily, however,
he was infected by this shrewish spirit, and took to scolding.
In his public speeches a \veak virulence and spite were man
ifested, which, in such a man, was deeply to be deplored.

Much of the blame ought, perhaps, to attach to those who
baited him into fury; and it is not greatly to be regretted,
that many of them Avere gored and tossed in this ferocious
contest. The original charges brought against him were un-
just; but the vehemence with which they were retorted, as
well as repelled, divested them, in some degree, of their j
calumnious quality, and exemplified their truth. Mr. Saurin
should have recollected, that he had at one time given utter-
ance to language nearly as intemperate himself, and had laid
down the same principles with a view to a distinct application.
He had harangued upon the will of the majority, and he for- t
got that it was constituted by the Papists. On a sudden he '
was converted, from a previous neutrality, into the most vio-
lent opponent of Roman Catholic Emancipation. I entertain
little doubt that his hostility was fully as personal as it was
constitutional. There appears to be a great inconsistency
between his horror of the Union and of the Catholics. They
are as seven to one in the immense population of Ireland;
and when they are debased by political disqualification, it can
only be justified upon the ground that it promotes the interests
of the Empire.

But Mr. Saurin discarded the idea of making a sacrifice

162 WILLIAM SAURIN.

of Ireland to Imperial considerations, when tlie benefits .»f the
Union were pointed out. I fear, also, that he wants magna-
nimity, and that his antipathies are influenced in part by his
domestic recollections. His ancestors were persecuted in
France; but. his gratitude to the country in which they found
a refuge, should have suppressed any inclination to retaliate
upon the religion of the majority of its people. I shall not
expatiate upon the various incidents which distinguished this
period of forensic turmoil. Suffice it to say, that Mr. Saurin
obtained verdicts of condemnation. But his high character
and his peace of mind were affected by his ignominious suc-
cess. He grew into an object of national distaste. His own
personal dispositions, which are naturally kind and good, were
materially deteriorated. Every man at the bar with liberal
opinions on the Catholic question, was regarded by him with
dislike. A single popular sentiment was a disqualification for
place.

But let me turn from the less favorable points of his char-
acter. This censure should be qualified by large commen-
dation. His patronage was confined to his party, but it was
honorably exercised. Those whom he advanced were able
and honest men. The sources of justice were never vitiated
by any unworthy preferences upon his part. Neither did he
lavish emolument on his OAVH family. In the list of pensioners
the name of Saurin does not often bear attestation to his power.
I should add to his other merits his unaffected modesty. He
has always been easy, accessible, and simple. He had none
of the " morgue aristocratique," nor the least touch of official
superciliousness on his brow.

Mr. Saurin, as Attorney-General, may be said to have gov-
erned Ireland for fifteen years ;* but, at the moment Avhen he
seemed to have taken the firmest stand upon the height of his
authority, he was precipitated to the ground. The Grenvilles
joined the minister. It was stipulated that Plunket should
be restored to his former office. Mr. Saurin was offered the
place of Chief-Justice of the King's Bench, which in a fit of
splenetic1 vexation he had the folly to refuse. The new loc?,,

* From 1807 until January, 1822, when Mr. Plunket replaced him. — M.

OUT OF OFFICE. 163

government did not give him a moment for repentance, and he
was thrown at once from the summit of his power. There was
not a single intervening circumstance to break his precipitous
descent, and he was stunned, if not shattered, in the fall. He
might, however, have expected it ; he had no political con-
nections to sustain him. He is married, indeed, to a sister of
the Marquis of Thomond ; but that alliance was a feeble ob-
stacle to the movement of a great party.

His official friends immolated him to exigency, but they
would have sacrificed him to convenience. The only man in
power, perhaps, who personally lamented his ill usage, was
Lord Manners; and even his Lordship was aware, for six
months before, of the intended change, and never disclosed it
to him in their diurnal walks to the Hall of the Four Courts.
This suppression Mr. Saurin afterward resented ; but, upon a
declaration from his friend that he was influenced by a regard
for his feelings, they were reconciled. He did not choose to/
warn him, at the banquet, of the sword that he saw suspended1
over his head.

He is now [1823] plain Mr. Saurin again, and he bears this
reverse with a great deal of apparent, and some real, fortitude.
When he was first deprived of his office, I watched him in the
Hall. The public eye was upon him ; and the consciousness
of general observation in calamity inflicts peculiar pain. The
joyous alacrity of Plunket was less a matter of comment than
the resigned demeanor of his fallen rival. Richard was as
much gazed at as Bolingbroke.* It was. said by most of those
who saw him, that he looked as cheerful as ever. In fact,
he looked more cheerful, and that appeared to me to give evi-
dence of the constraint which he put upon himself. There
was a forced hilarity about him — he wore an alertness and
vivacity, which were not made for his temperament. His
genuine smile is flexible and easy ; but upon this occasion it j
lingered with a mechanical procrastination upon the lips, j
which showed that it did not take its origin at the heart.

* See Shakspere's Richard 77., Act 5, Scene 2, for the description of the
contrast between the reception of the unfortunate and unpopular Richard, aijr*
that of his sue sessful rival Bolingbroke. — M.

164 WILLIAM SAURItf.

There was also too ready a proffer of the hand to his old friends,
who gave him a warm but a silent squeeze.

I thought him a subject for study, and followed him into the
Court of Chancery. He discharged his business with more
than his accustomed diligence and skill; — but when his part
was done, and he bent his head over a huge brief, the pages
of which he seemed to turn without a consciousness of their
contents, I have heard him heave at intervals a low sigh
When he returned again to the Hall, I have observed him in
a moment of professional leisure while he was busied with his
own solitary thoughts, and I could perceive a gradual languor
stealing over the melancholy mirth which he had been person-
ating before. His figure, too, was bent and depressed, as he
walked back to the Court of Chancery ; and before he passed
through the green cur.tains which divide it from the Hall, I
have seen him pause for an instant and throw a look at the
King's Bench. It was momentary, but too full of expression
to be casual, and seemed to unite in its despondency a deep
sense of the wrong which he had sustained from his friends,
and the more painful injury which he had inflicted upon him-
self.

If Rembrandt were living in our times, he should paint a
portrait of Saurin : his countenance and deportment would
afford an appropriate subject to the shadowy pencil of that
great artist. There should be no gradual melting of colors
into each other; there should be no softness of touch, and no
nice variety of hue ; there should be no sky — no flowers — no
drapery — no marble; but a grave and sober-minded man should
stand upon the canvass, with the greater proportion of his figure
in opacity and shadow, and with a strong line of light breaking
through a monastic window upon his corrugated brow. His
countenance is less serene than tranquil ; it has much deliber-
ate consideration, but little depth or wisdom ; its whole ex-
pression is peculiarly quiet and subdued. His eye is black
and wily, and glitters under the mass of a rugged and shaggy
eyebrow. There is a certain sweetness in its glance, some
what at variance with the general indications of character
which are conveyed in his look. His forehead is thoughtful,

HIS PUBLIC DEMEANOR. 165

but neither bold nor lofty. It is furrowed by long study and
recent care.

There is a want of intellectual elevation in his aspect, but
he has a cautious shrewdness and a discriminating perspica-
city. With much affability and good nature about the mouth,
in the play of its minuter expression, a sedate and permanent
vindictiveness may readily be found. His features are broad
and deeply founded, but they are not blunt; without being
destitute of proportion, they are not finished with delicacy or
point. His dress is like his manners, perfectly plain and re-
markable for its neat propriety. He is wholly free from vul-
garity, and quite denuded of accomplishment. He is of the',
middle size, and his frame, like his mind, is compact and well/
knit together. There is an intimation of slowness and suspi-
cion in his movements, and the spirit of caution seems to regu-
late his gait. He has nothing of the Catilinarian walk,* and
it might be readily conjectured that he was not destined for a
conspirator.

His whole demeanor bespeaks neither dignity nor meanness.
There is no fraud about him ; but there is a disguise of his
emotions which borders upon guile. His passions are violent,
and are rather covered than suppressed: they have little effect
upon his exterior — the iron stove scarcely glows Avith the in-
tensity of its internal fire. He looks altogether a worldly and
sagacious man — sly, cunning, and considerate — not ungener-
ous, but by no means exalted — with some sentiment, and no
sensibility : kind in his impulses, and warped by involuntary
prejudice: gifted with the power of dissembling his own feel-
ings, rather than of assuming the character of other men : more
acute than comprehensive, and subtle than refined : a man of
point and of detail : no adventurer either in conduct or specu-
lation : a lover of usage, and an enemy to innovation : per-
fectly simple and unaffected : one who can bear adversity well,
and prosperity still better: a little downcast in ill-fortune, and
not at all supercilious in success : something of a republican

* The passage in which Sallust describes the peculiar walk of the great Con-
spirator runs thus: " Igitur color exsanguis, fcedi oculi, citus modo, modo tar-
dus incessus." — M.

166 WILLIAM SAURItf.

by nature, but fashioned by circumstances into a tory : moral,
but not pious : decent, but not devout : honorable, but not
chivalrous : affectionate, but not tender : a man who could go
far to serve a friend, and a good way to hurt a foe : and, take
him for all in all, a useful and estimable member of society.

I have mentioned his Fiench origin, and it is legibly ex-
pressed in his lineaments and hue. In other countries, one
national physiognomy prevails through the mass of the peo-
ple. In every district and in every class we meet with a
single character of face. But in Ireland, the imperfect graft-
ing of colonization is easily perceived in the great variety of
countenance which is everywhere to be found : the notches
are easily discerned upon the original stock.

The Dane of Kildare is known by his erect form, his sand-
ed complexion, his blue and independent eye, and the fairness
of his rich and flowing hair. The Spaniard in the west, shows
among the dominions of Mr. Martin,* his swarthy features and
his black Andalusian eye. A Presbyterian church in the
north, exhibits a quadrangular breadth of jawbone, and a
shrewd sagacity of look in its calculating and moral congrega
tion, which tbe best Baillie in Glasgow would not disown.
Upon the southern mountain and in the morass, the wild and
haggard face of the aboriginal Irishman is thrust upon the
traveller, through the aperture in his habitation of mud which
pays the double debt of a chimney and a door. His red and
strongly-curled hair, his angry arid courageous eye, his short

* Richard Martin, described by Moore as one who

" rules

The houseless wilds of Connemara,"

was member of Parliament for many years, representing the county of Galway,
in which he possessed very large landed estates. He succeeded in passing an
act for the prevention and punishment of cruelty to animals, and was a humane
but eccentric man. His son, Thomas Martin, succeeded him as owner"of the
vast Connemara estate — a domain once larger than the territory of many a
reigning German Prince. On his death, his daughter, Mrs. Bell Martin, came
into possession, but the estates were sold to satisfy greedy money-lenders, and
as the amount realized was too small, she came to New York, to earn her liv-
ing by literature. Her novel of " Julia Howard," reprinted here, was very
clever. She had written other works in French. She died in New York, on
November 7, 1850, worthy of a better fate than exile and poverty. — M.

&1S SKtLL AS AN ADVOCATE.

and blunted features, thrown at hazard into his countenance
and that fantastic compound of intrepidity and cunning, of
daring and of treachery, of generosity and of falsehood, o{
fierceness and of humor, and of absurdity and genius, which i&
conveyed in. his expression, is not inappropriately discovered
in the midst of crags and bogs, and through the medium of
smoke. When he descends into the city, this barbarian of art
(for he has been made so by the landlord and the law — nature
never intended him to be so), presents a singular contrast to
the high forehead, the regular features, and pure complexion
of the English settler.

To revert to Mr. Saurin (from whom I ought not, perhaps,
to have deviated so far), there is still greater distinctness, as
should be the case, from their proximity to their source, in the
descendants from the French Protestants who obtained an asy-
lum in Ireland. The Huguenot is stamped upon them ;* I can
read in their faces, not only the relics of their country, but of
their religion. They are not only Frenchmen in color, but
Calvinists in expression. They are serious, grave, and almost
sombre, and have even a shade of fanaticism diffused over the
worldliness by which they are practically characterized. Mr.
Saurin is no fanatic ; on the contrary, I believe that his only
test of the true religion is the law o.f the land. He does not
belong to the " saint party," nor is he known by the sanctimo-
nious avidity by which that pious and rapacious body is dis-
tinguished at the Irish bar. Still there is a touch of John
Calvinf upon him, and he looks the fac-simile of an old Protest-
ant professor of logic whom I remember to have seen in one of
the colleges at Nismes.

I have enlarged upon the figure and aspect of this eminent
barrister, because they intimate much of his mind. In his ca-
pacity as an advocate in a court of equity, he deserves great

* The French Catholics gave the nick-name of Huguenots to their Protestant
brothers, but the derivation of the word is uncertain. It was not used until the
middle of the sixteenth century. — M.

t John Calvin was a Frenchman. Differing from Luther, on many points of
doctrine and discipline, he established a schism less tolerant and more severe
than simple Protestantism. Unable to convert Servetus, he calmly consigned
him to the flames — " for the love of God ! " — M,

168 WILLIAM

encomium. He is not a great case-lawyer. He is not like
Sergeant Lefroy,* an ambulatory index of discordant names ;
±16 is stored with knowledge : principle is not merely deposited
in his memory, but inlaid and tesselated in his mind : it enters
into his habitual thinking. No man is better versed in the art
of putting facts: he brings with a peculiar felicity and skill
the favorable parts of his client's case into prominence, and
shows still greater acuteness . in suppressing or glossing over
whatever may be prejudicial to his interests. He invests the
most hopeless, and I will even add, the most dishonest cause, with
a most deceitful plausibility; and the total absence of all effort,
and the ease and apparent sincerity of his manner, give him at
times a superiority even to Plunket himself, who, by the energy
into which he is hurried at moments by his more ardent and
eloquent temperament, creates a suspicion that it must be a
bad cause which requires so much display of power. In hear-
ing the latter, you are perpetually thinking of him and his
faculties; in hearing Saurin, you remember nothing but the
cause — he disappears in the facts.

Saurin also shows singular tact in the management of the
Court. Lord-Chancellor Manners is actually bewildered by
Plunket : it is from his Lordship's premises that he argues
against him : he entangles him in a net of sophistry wrought
out of his own suggestion. This is not very agreeable to hu-
man vanity, and Chancellors are men. Saurin, on the other
hand, accommodates himself to every view of the Court. He
gently and insensibly conducts his Lordship to a conclusion —
Plunket precipitates him into it at once. But Lord Manners
struggles hard upon the brink, and often escapes from his
grasp.

In this faculty of adaptation to the previous opinions and
character of the judge whom he addresses, I consider Saurin
as perhaps the most useful advocate in the Court of Chancery
— at the same time, in reach of thought, variety of attribute,
versatility of resource, and power of diction, he is far inferior
to his distinguished successor in office. But Plunket is a sena-

* The subject of a subsequent sketch, and now [1854] Chief-Jugtice of
Ireland. — M.

HIS DISTASTE ^FOR LETTERS. 169

tor and a statesman, and Saurin is a lawyer — not a mere one,
indeed ; but the legal faculty is greatly predominant in his
mind. His leisure has never been dedicated to the acquisition
of scientific knowledge, nor has he sought a relaxation from
his severer occupations in the softness of the politer arts. His
earliest tastes and predilections were always in coincidence
with his profession. Free from all literary addiction, he not
only did not listen to, but never heard, the solicitations of the
Muse. Men with the strongest passion for higher and more
elegant enjoyments have frequently repressed that tendency,
from a fear that it might lead them from the pursuit of more
substantial objects.

It was not necessary that Mr. Saurin should stop his ears
against the voice of the siren — he was born deaf to her en-
chantments. I believe that this was a sort of good fortune in
his nature. Literary accomplishments are often of prejudice,]
and very seldom of any utility, at the bar. The profession'
itself may occasionally afford a respite from its more rigid avo-
cations. and invite of its own accord to a temporary deviation
from .Hs more dreary pursuits. There are moments in which a
familiarity with the great models of eloquence and of high
thinking may be converted into use. But a lawyer like Mr^
Saurin will think, and wisely perhaps, that the acquisition of J
the embellishing faculties is seldom attended with a sufficiently
frequent opportunity for their display, to compensate for the
dangers of the deviation which they require from the straight-
forward road to professional eminence, and will pursue his
progress — like the American traveller, who, in journeying
through his vast prairies, passes without regard the fertile
landscapes which occasionally lie adjacent to his way, and
never turns from his track for the sake of the rich fruits and
the refreshing springs of those romantic recesses, which, how-
ever delicious they may appear, may bewilder him in a wil-
derness of sweets, and lead him for ever astray from the final
object of his destination.

VOL. I.— -8

HENRY JOY.

MR. JOY, the present Solicitor-Greneral for Ireland [1823],
and the anti-papistical associate in office of the chief-advocate
of the Roman Catholic claims, Mr. Plunket, is the son of a
literary man, who was the editor of a newspaper in Belfast.*
To the violent spirit which characterized the democratic lucu-
brations of the father, I am inclined to attribute a mistake into
which the public have fallen with respect to the juvenile pro-
pensities of the son. Mr. Joy is commonly considered to have
been addicted to liberal principles in his early life, and has
been reproached with having started a patriot. But whiggism
is not a family disorder, nor have I been able to discover any
grounds for thinking that Mr. Joy was at any time the profes-
sor of opinions at variance with his present political creed.

* Henry Joy, born in 1767, was called to the Irish bar in 1788. He was
a good lawyer, as well as an able advocate. He had a very good-humored,
insinuating way with witnesses as well as juries, and was happy at retort. In
1827, when Plunket was made Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, he was
succeeded as Attorney-General, by Joy. In 1831, on the retirement of Lord
Guillamore (Standish O'Grady), Mr. Joy became Chief Baron of the Ex-
chequer, and held that high office until his death, which took plac< , near Dublin,
on June 5, 1838-. — Chief Baron Joy was an impartial and humane administra-
tor of the law. He was repeatedly pressed to enter Parliament, but always
declined. — His name presented an obvious subject for Lord Norbury's wit.
An attorney, named Hope, prayed his Lordship to wait a few moments for hig
loading Counsel, Mr. Joy, who was unavoidably detained and would pres-
ently attend. His Lordship's very email stock of patience was soon exhausted
and he said, " We can wait no longer —

" ' Although Hope told a flattering tale,

And said the Joy would soon return,' n
itad directed the next case to be called on. — M.

1I1S POLITICAL CREED. 171

Since he was called to the Bar, which was in the year 1788, I
can not find a single deviation in his conduct from the path of
obvious prudence, which his instinctive tendencies would
naturally have led him to adopt, and to which his matured
experience must have instructed him to adhere. It required
little sagacity to perceive that by allying himself with the
religious and aristocratic passions of the prosperous faction, he
was much more likely to attain distinction, than by any chival
rous dedication of his abilities to a more noble, but unrequiting
cause.

Hacl he had the misfortune to inherit so sterile and unprofit-
able a patrimony as the love of Ireland, he might still, perhaps,
have risen to eminence and honor. But his success would
have been achieved in despite of his principles. By choosing
a different course he has succeeded through them. Instead of
the difficult and laborious path by which so few have won their
way, and which is filled not only with obstacles but thorns, he
selected the smoother road, the progress in which is as easy as
it is sure — which is thronged by crowds, who, instead of
impeding individual advancement, sustain and bear each other
on — and which not only leads with more directness to a
splendid elevation, but is bordered with many fertile and rich
retreats, in which those who are either unable or unwilling to
prosecute their journey to the more distant and shining objects
to which it conducts at last, are certain of finding an adjacent
place of secure and permanent repose. In this inviting path,
the weak and the incapable may sit down in ease and luxury,
even in the lowest gradations of ascent ; while the more vigor-
ous and aspiring receive an impulse from the very ground they
tread, and are hurried rapidly along. Mr. Joy could not fail
to see the advantages of this accelerating course, nor do I
impute much blame to him for having yielded to its allure-
ments. He has, perhaps, acted from that kind of artificial
conviction, into which the mind of an honorable man may at
last succeed in torturing itself. Conscience, like every other?/
judge, may be misled, and there is no advocate so eloquent asj
Bell-interest before that high, but not infallible tribunal.

Whatever were his motives in choosing this judicious though

172 HENRY JOT.

not very exalted course, Mr. Joy soon distinguished himself by
his zeal in his vocation, and became prominent among the
stanch Tories at the Bar. He displayed in its fullest force
that sort of sophisticated loyalty, of which vehement Protest-
ants are in the habit of making a boastful profession in Ireland,
and carried the supererogatory sentiment into practice, even at
the convivial meetings of the Bar. A lawyer, who has since
risen to considerable distinction, and whose youth was encom-
passed by calamities, which it required a rare combination of
talents and of fortitude to surmount, was selected by Mr. Joy
for an early manifestation of his devotedness to the cause,
which it required no very high spirit of prophecy to foresee
would be ultimately canonized by success. It was upon the
motion of Mr. Joy, that the barrister to whom I allude, was
expelled, for his republican tendencies, from the Bar-mess
of the Northeast Circuit. In recommending so very rigor-
ous a measure, he gave proof of his earnestness and of his
good taste. The expulsion of an associate, whom an almost
daily intercourse ought to have invested with at least the sem-
blances of friendship, afforded abundant evidence of the sin-
cerity of the emotion with which he was influenced, while his
discrimination was approved, by marking a man out for ruin,
whose endowments were sufficiently conspicuous to direct the
general attention, not only to the peculiar victim that suffered
in the sacrifice, but to the priest who presided at the immolation.
This unequivocal exhibition of enthusiastic loyalty was
followed by other instances of equally devoted and not more
disinterested attachment to the government, and Mr. Joy
gradually grew into the favor of those who are the distributors
of honor and of emolument at the Bar. He did not, however,
abuse the predilections of authority for any mean or inglorious
purpose. He is, I believe, unsullied by any sordid passion ;
and whatever may be his faults, avarice is not among them.
He has never been an occupant of any one of the paltry offices
at the Bar, to the invention of which the genius of Irish Secre-
taries is unremittingly applied. Aiming at loftier objects, he
preserved a character for independence, by abstaining from
solicitation.

HIS SYMPATHY WITH SAUEIN. 173

It would be tedious to trace liis progress through the various
stages of professional success which conduct to celebrity at
last. A lawyer advances by movements almost impercepti-
ble, from obscurity into note, and from note to fame; and
would find it difficult to ascribe with certainty the consumma-
tion of his success to any direct or immediate cause. It is by
a continued series of meritorious effort and of fortunate event,
that eminence is to be attained at the Bar. I pass by the
many years of labor in which Mr. Joy, in obedience to the
destinies of his profession, must have expended the flower of
his life, and lead him directly to the administration of Mr.
Saurin. That gentleman, the Coryphaeus of the Orange party,
formed for Mr. Joy a strong political partiality. He found in
Mr. Joy the cardinal virtue, which, in his opinion, is the hinge
of all integrity and. honor, and in the absence of which the
highest genius and the deepest knowledge are wholly without
avail. With Mr. Saurin, Orangeism in politics has all the
efficacy of charity in religion, and in the person of Mr. Joy,
he found many conspicuous qualities set-off by the full lustre of
Protestantism. This community of sentiment engendered a
virulent sympathy between them.

Mr. Joy was appointed one of the three Sergeants, who take
precedence after the Attorney and Solicitor General,* and

* In Ireland there are only three Sergeants-at-Law, who are appointed by
the Crown, and take precedence, after the Attorney and Solicitor General, over
the rest of the bar. In England, any barrister of a certain standing may " as-
enme the coif" — that is, wear a wig with a black patch on the crown — pro-
vided he pay the usual expenses, amounting to one hundred pounds sterling.
He is then called " Mr. Sergeant," sits within the bar, with the Queen's Coun-
sel, and takes precedence with them. There is this disadvantage : as a Ser-
geant-at-Law can not hold a brief under any one but a Queen's Counsel, or
another Sergeant of seniority to himself, he is precluded, in point of fact, from
being ether than a leader in each case he appears in ; and it sometimes happens
that a hamster in good practice, whose ambition leads him to take the coif,
so-jn finds himself briefless — as he can not act as junior, and the attorneys may
not think so well of him as to employ him as a leader. In England, every law-
yer, previous to taking his seat as a Judge, undergoes the formality and expense
of being made a Sergeant-at-Law. When a barrister is of sufficient standing,
it is usual to make him " one of Her Majesty's Counsel," which entitles him to
•it tvithjn the bar, gives him precedence over the rest of the profession, an«J

174 HENEY JOT.

enjoy a sort of customary right to promotion to the Bench.
Even before they are raised to the judicial station, they occa-
sionally act in lieu of any of the judges, who may happen to
be prevented by illness from going the circuit. The malady
of a judge, to such an extent of incapacity, is not, however, of
very frequent occurrence. A deduction from his salary, to the
amount of four hundred pounds, is inflicted as a sort of penalty,
in every instance in which he declines attending the assizes,
and the expedient has been found peculiarly sanative. It not
unfrequently happens that one of the twelve sages,* who has

entitles him to employment in all cases, civil and criminal, between tlie Crown
and the subject. Out of a bar consisting of about six hundred, in England,
between forty and fifty are Queen's Counsel ; so that the distinction, which is
seldom conferred except for merit, is an important one, as it virtually bestows
professional rank on the recipient. A Queen's Counsel may be employed
against the Crown, in the courts of law, on paying a fee of ten guineas, and
obtaining permission, which is rarely refused, from the Attorney-General. But
the Crown has a prior right to his services, if it require them. What is called
*' a patent of precedency" is sometimes given to Sergeants-at-Law, which places
them, according to its date, in possession of all the privileges enjoyed by
Queen's Counsel. Mr. Sergeant Wilkins, the ablest advocate now at the Eng-
lish bar, has such a patent. Mr. O'Connell, who was for many years at the
head of his profession in Ireland, never was made Counsel to the Crown, owing
to his politics being hostile to those of the Lord-Chancellor (Manners), who
had the disposal of such honors. Eventually, he received a patent of prece*
•iency. In the Ecclesiastical Courts, no hamsters are allowed to plead unless
they have taken the degree of Doctor of Civil Law, at one of the Universities.
In England, politics are seldom regarded now in the disposal of silk-gowns.
This may require explanation : a Queen's Counsel wears a silken and a/i ordi-
nary barrister a stuff gown. The former, on solemn occasions, hides his head
in a full-bottomed wig, made of horsehair, and whitened with flour or powdered
starch : the latter wears a plain peruke, of the same quality, with two small
tails behind. Hence the saying, " The wisdom 's in the wig !" There are nei-
ther Queen's Counsel, nor Sergeants-at-Law, nor patents of precedency, al the
Scottish bar; but they get on very well without them. — M.

* In Ireland, besides two equity Judges (Lord Chancellor and Master cf the
Rolls), there are twelve principal Judges, who dispose of criminal and nisi
pritis cases. In Scotland, there are thirteen Judges, of whom, seven are Lords
of the Justiciary or chief criminal Court. In England, there are seven equity,
and fifteen principal Judges for criminal cases. In England and Ireland, there
ti'R also Judges of the Prerogative and Ecclesiastical Courts. There also are
cnunty and other local Judges in every county of the United Kingdom, besides
Commissioners of Bankruptcy and Insolvency. The largest salaiy is the Lord

HIS STANDING AT THE BAR. 175

lain almost dead during the term, at the sound of the circuit-
trumpet, starts, as it were into a judicial resurrection, and, pre-
ceded by the gorgeous procession of bum-bailiffs, bears his
cadaverous attestation through the land, to the miraculous
agency of the King's commission.

However, it does upon occasion happen that this restorative,
powerful as it is, loses its preternatural operation, and one of
the Sergeants is called upon to take the place of any of the
ermined dignitaries of the Bench, who does not require the
certificate of a physician to satisfy the public of the reality
of his venerable ailments. This proximity to the Bench gives
a Sergeant considerable weight. In raising Mr. Joy to an
office which affords so many honorable anticipations, Mr.
Saurin must have been sensible that he added to his personal
influence, by the elevation of so unqualified an adherent to the
party of which he was the head. Mr. Joy had, besides, a high
individual rank. Before his promotion his business was con-
siderable, and it afterward rapidly increased. It was princi-

Chancellor's — ten thousand pounds sterling, a year, in England. The average
salaries of the other principal Judges are about five thousand pounds sterling
a year. The County Court Judges receive about one thousand pounds sterling
PIT annum in England and Ireland, and about eight hundred pounds sterling
in Scotland. All the appointments are for life. No Judge is removable by
the Crown (except the Lord Chancellor, who retires with the Ministry, of
whom he is one), but his removal can take place on an address from both
Houses of Parliament, after gross misconduct is proven before them. Every
Judge, on retiring, after fifteen years' service, or ill-health, has a life-pension
of two thirds of his salary, but the Lord Chancellor, however brief his tenure
of office, has a pension of five thousand pounds sterling a year, as, having once
quitted the Bar, for the Bench, he can not resume his practice in the Courts of
Law. But the ex-Chancellors, all of whom are peers, sit in the House of
Lords; every Session, hearing appeals from the different law-Courts throughout
the whole Empire (Colonies included) and thus render great service, fully the
value of their pensions, to the public. The House of Lords is the highest
court of judicature in the British Empire, and " the Law Lords," as they are
called, chiefly give the decisions — the lay-lords, who are not lawyers, seldom!
interfering. For the last eighteen years, Lord Brougham, in particular, 1m ^
devoted his time, energies, and vast knowledge, to the adjudication of Appeals
before the House of Lords. It may bo remarked, as a curious anomaly, that
the Lord Chancellor and any other Judge, whose decisions may be appealed
against (if a peer, such as Lord Chief-Justice Campbell, for instance), may
hear and vote on such appeals — literally on their own judgments ! — M.

176 HENRY JOY.

pally augmented in Chancery, where pre-audience is of tne
utmost moment. Lord Manners is disposed to allow too deep
a permanence to the earliest impression, and whoever first
addresses him has the odds in his favor. The enjoyment of
priority swelled the bag of Mr. Joy, which was soon distended
into an equality with that of Mr. Bushe.

That great advocate found in Mr. Joy a dangerous compet-
itor. The latter was generally supposed to be more pro-
foundly read, and the abstract principles of equity were traced
by sagacious solicitors in the folds and furrows of his brow.
The eloquence of Bushe was little appreciated by men who
thought, that because they had been delighted they ought
not to^have been convinced. Joy had a more logical aspect
in the eyes of those who conceive that genius affords prima
facie evidence against knowledge, and grew into a gradual
preference at the Chancery bar. It was no light recommen-
dation to him that he was \\\z protege of Saurin, who could not
bring himself to forgive the liberalism of his colleague, and
was not unwilling to assist the prosperous competition of his
more Protestant elcve. His strenuous protection gave strong
reasons to Bushe to tremble at Joy's pretensions to the highest
seat upon the Bench. Bushe had himself declined the office
of a puisne judge,* in the just expectation of attaining to
that, which he at present occupies in a manner so useful to
the country and so creditable to himself. But he was doomed
to the endurance of a long interval of suspense before his
present fortunate, and I may even call it accidental, elevation.
He had already been sufficiently annoyed by the perverse
longevity of Lord Norbury,f and the no less vexatious hesi-
tations of Lord Downes,| who tortured him for years with the

* In England and Ireland, the Chief Justices who preside over the Courts
of Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, and Exchequer, are familiarly called chiefs.
The judges under them are called puisne (pronounced puny) from a French
adjective signifying younger and inferior. — M.

t Lord Norbury (the subject of a subsequent sketch), who was Chief- Justice
of the Common Pleas in Ireland, was seventy-eight years old in 1825 when
this was written, and had then been twenty-three years on the Bench. — M.

t William Downes, called to the IrisrTbar in 1766, was made a Judge in 1792.
During Emmett's insurrection in 1803, Lord Kilwarden was murdered by uie

HIS EXPECTATION OF PROMOTION. 171

judicial coquetry of affected resignation. But the appearance
of another candidate for the object of his protracted aspira-
tions, had well nigh broken his spirit, and reduced him t»
despair.

It was at one time quite notorious, that if a vacancy ha<
occurred in the Chief-Justiceship of the King's Bench, Sauriu
would have exercised his influence in behalf of his favorite
and it was almost equally certain that his influence would hav«
prevailed. In the general notion, Joy was soon to preside in
the room of Downes, and his own demeanor tended not a little
to confirm it. The auspices of success were assembled in his
aspect, as conspicuously as the omens of disaster were collected
in the bearing of Mr. Bushe. The latter exhibited all the
most painful symptoms of the malady of procrastinated hope.
The natural buoyancy of his spirit sunk under the oppressive
and accumulated solicitude that weighed upon him. Conscious
of the power of our emotions, and of the readiness with which
they break into external results, he was ever on his guard
against them. He well knew how speedily misfortune is de- (
tected by the vulgar and heartless crowd we call the world,
and made every effort to rescue himself from their ignominious
commiseration. To escape from a sentiment which is so closely
connected with contempt, he wrought himself at moments into \
a wild and feverish hilarity ; but the care that consumes the
heart manifested itself, in spite of all his efforts to conceal it.
His bursts of high-wrought joyousness were speedily followed
by the depression which usually succeeds to an unnatural ine-

mob, who mistook him for Lord Carleton, the Judge who presided at the trial and
condemnation of Henry and John Sheares, in 1798. Downes was appointed
to succeed Lord Kilwarden, as Chief Justice of the King's Bench. He was
raised to the peerage, as Baron Downes (with remainder, on default of lawful
male issue, to his cousin, the gallant Sir Ulysses de Burgh, the present peer), on
his relinquishing the ermine in March, 1822. He died, at a very advanced age,
in March, 1825. Lord Downes was Vice-Chancellor of the University of Dublin.
He was a large, unwieldy man, and Curran described him as " a human quag-
mire,"— on the bench, he was tremulous as if he were composed of calves'-
feet jelly. He was at once solemn and ponderous. He had never been mar-
ried, and his rigid moral conduct caused him to be designated the "virgin
judge " Withal, he was patient, a good listener, a pains-taking man, and had
& competent share of legal knowledge. — M.

8*

178 HENRY JOT.

briation of the mind ; his eyes used to be fixed in a heavy
and abstracted glare; his face was suffused with a murky and
unwholesome red — melancholy seemed to " bake his blood."
He was vacant when disengaged, and impatient when occu-
pied, and every external circumstance about him attested the
workings of solicitude that were going on within. It was
truly distressing to see this eloquent, high-minded, and gen-
i'erous man, dying of the ague of expectation, and alternately
shivering with wretched disappointment, and inflamed with
! miserable hope.

Joy, on the other hand, displayed all the characteristics of
prosperity, and would have been set down by the most casual
observer as a peculiarly successful man. An air of good for-
tune was spread around him: it breathed from his face, and
was diffused over all that he said and did. His eyes twinkled
with the pride of authority. His brow assumed by anticipation
the solemnity of the judicial cast; he seemed to rehearse the
part of Chief Justice, and to be already half seated on the
highest place upon the Bench. But suddenly it was plucked
from beneath him. Lord Wellesley arrived* — Saurin was pre-
cipitated from his office. In a paroxysm of distempered magna-
nimity he disdained to accept the first judicial station ; and
Bushe, to his own astonishment, grasped in permanence and
security that object of half his life, which had appeared so
long to fly from his pursuit, and, just before the instant of its
attainment, seemed, like a phantasm, to have receded from his
reach for ever. Bushe is now Chief- Justice of the King's
Bench [1823] ; and that he may long continue to preside

* As Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. After the visit of George IV., when the
Catholics showed a superabundance of" loyalty," it was resolved to favor their,
with a more liberal ruler than the late Earl Talbot, who was a decided partisan
of " Protestant Ascendency in Church and State." The Marquis Wellesley
was sent over- — partly because he was liberal and friendly to the Catholic
claims, and partly because he was poor, and the twenty thousand pounds ster-
ling a year salary was an object to him. At the same time, Mr. Saurin, the
virtual and intolerant ruler of the country, was dismissed, to be succeeded by
Plunket, the eloquent advocate" of Emancipation. — Lord Wellesley in Ireland
forms the subject of a lively sketch, in this volume, entitled " The Dublin Tab-
foet Bull,"- M.

AS SOLICITOR GENERAL. 179

there, is the wish of every man by whom indiscriminate urban-
ity to the bar, unremitting attention to the duties of his office,
and a perfect competence to their discharge — the purest im-
partiality and a most noble intellect — are held in value.

Notwithstanding that the Bench was withdrawn from Mr.
Joy, while he was almost in the attitude of seating himself
upon it, he did not fall to the ground. Bushe's promotion left
a vacancy in the office of Solicitor-General, and it was ten-
dered to Mr. Joy. This was considered a little singular, as
his opinions were well known to be exactly opposite to those
of the new Attorney-General, Mr. Plunket. That circum-
stance, however, so far from being a ground of objection, was,
I am inclined to think, a principal motive for submitting the
vacant place to his acceptance. It had been resolved to
compound all parties together. The more repulsive the ingre-
dients, the better fitted they were for the somewhat empirical
process of conciliation, with which Lord Wellesley had under-
taken to mix them up together. The government being itself an
anomaly — a thing "of shreds and patches" — it was only
consistent that the legal department should be equally hete-
rogeneous. To this sagacious project, the conjunction of two
persons who differ so widely from each other as Mr. Plunket
and Mr. Joy, is to be attributed. The latter was blamed by
many of his friends for the promptitude with which he allied
himself to the new administration, for he did not affect the
coyness which is usually illustrated by a proverbial reference
to clerical ambition. He was well aware that if he indulged
in the mockery of a refusal, amid the rapid fluctuations of an
undecided government, he might endanger the ultimate pos-
session of BO valuable an office. He did not put on any
virgin reluctances, nor seem " fearful of his wishes," but em-
braced the fair opportunity with a genuine and unaffected
at dor.

Mr. Joy is justly accounted one of the ablest men at the Irish
Bar. In the sense in which eloquence, and especially in Ireland;
is generally understood, I do not think that it belongs to him
in a very remarkable degree. At times his manner is very
Strenuous, but energy is by no means the characteristic of hip

180 HENRY JOY.

speaking. I have seen him, upon occasion, appeal to juries
with considerable force, and manifest that honest indignation
in the reprobation of meanness and of depravity, which is
always sure to excite an exalted sentiment in the minds of
men. The sincere enforcement of good principle is among the
noblest sources of genuine oratory ; and he that awakens a
more generous love of virtue and lifts us beyond the ordinary
sphere of our moral sensibilities, produces the true results of
eloquence. This Mr. Joy has not unfrequently accomplished;
but his habitual cast of expression and of thought is too much
subdued and kept under the vigilant control of a timid and
suspicious taste, to be attended with any very signal and
shining effects. He deals little in that species of illustration
which indicates a daring and adventurous mind; that seeks
to deliver its strong, though not always matured, conceptions
in bold and lofty phrase. Its products may be frequently im-
perfect, but a single noble thought that springs full formed
from the imagination, compensates for all its abortive offspring.
Mr. Joy does not appear to think so, and studiously abstains
from the indulgence of that propensity to figurative decoration,
which in Ireland is carried to some excess. Nature, I suspect,
has been a little niggard in the endowment of his fancy ; and
if she has not given him wings for a sustained and lofty flight,
he is wise in not using any Avaxen pinions. I have never de-
tected any exaggeration in his speeches, either in notion or in
phrase. His language is precise and pure, but so simple as
scarcely to deviate from the plainness of ordinary discourse.

It was observed of Lysias that he seldom employed a word
which was not in the most common use, but that his language
was so measured as to render his style exceedingly melodious
and sweet. Mr. Joy very rarely has recourse to an expression
which is not perfectly familiar. But he combines the most
trivial forms of phrase with so much art together, as to give
them a peculiarly rhythmical construction. Upon occasion,
however, he throws into a speech some ornamental allusion to
his own favorite pursuits. He takes a flower or two from his
hwtus siccus, and flings it carelessly out. But his images are
derived from the museum and the cabinet, and not from tli?

HIS SCIENTIFIC PtlKStttTS. 181

mountain and the field. He is strongly addicted to the study
o£ the more graceful sciences, and versed in shrubs, and birds,
and butterflies.

In this respect he stands an honorable exception to most of
the eminent members of the Bar, with whom all scientific and
literary acquirement is held in a kind of disrepute. Mr. Joy
has not neglected those sources of permanent enjoyment, which
continue to administer their innocent gratifications, when al-
most every other is dried up. He has employed his solitary
leisure (for he is an old bachelor, and appears to be an invet-
erate Mr. Oldbuck) in the cultivation of elegant, although, in
some instances, fantastic tastes. He is devoted to the loves
of the plants, and spends in a well-assorted museum of curiosi-
ties many an hour of dalliance with an insect or a shell. It is
not unnatural that his mind should be impregnated with his
intellectual recreations ; and whenever he ventures upon a
metaphor, it may readily be traced to some association with
his scientific pursuits.

With this rare exception, Mr. Joy may be accounted an un-
adorned speaker. His chief merit consists in his talent for
elucidation and for sneering. He is, indeed, so sensible of his
genius for mockery, that he puts it into use wherever the least
opportunity is afforded for its display. When it is his object
to cover a man with disgrace, he lavishes encomium with a
tone and a look that render his envenomed praises more deadly
than the fiercest invective. He deals in incessant irony, and
sets off his virulent panegyric with a smile of such baleful de-
rision as to furnish a model to a painter for Goethe's Metemp-
syphiles.* In cross-examination he employs this formidable
faculty with singular effect.

Here he shows high excellence. He contemplates the wit-
ness with the suppressed delight of an inquisitor, who calmly ;
surveys his victim before he has him on the wheel. He does
not drag him to the torture with a ferocious precipitation, and
throw him at once into his torments, but with a slow and bland-
ishing suavity tempts and allures him on, and invites him to
the point at which he knows that the means of infliction lie

* Mephistophiles 1 — M.

JOY.

in wait. He offers him a soft and downy bed in winch the
rack is concealed, and when he is laid upon it, even then he
does not put out all his resources of agony at once. He affects
to caress the victim whom he torments, and it is only after he
has brought the whole machinery of torture into action, that
Lis purpose is perfectly revealed ; and even then, and when he is
in the fullest triumph of excruciation, he retains his seeming
and systematic gentleness; he affects to wonder at the pain
which he applies, and while yhe is pouring molten lead into
the wound, pretends to think it balm.

The habitual irony which Mr. Joy is accustomed to put into
such efficient practice, has given an expression to his face
which is peculiarly sardonic. Whatever mutations his coun-
tenance undergoes, are but varied modifications of a sneer.
It exhibits in every aspect a phasis of disdain. Plunket's
face sins a little in this regard, but its expression is less con-
temptuous than harsh. There is in it more of the acidity of
ill humor than of the bitterness of scorn. His pride appears
to result rather from the sense of his own endowments than
from any depreciating reference to those of other men. But
the mockery of Mr. Joy is connected with all the odium of
comparison : —

" Et les deux bras crois£s, du haul de son esprit,
II 6coute en piti<3 tout ce quo chacun dit."

The features upon which this perpetual derision is inlaid,
are of a peculiar cast; — they are rough-hewn and unclassical,
and dispersed over a square and rectangular visage, without
symmetry or arrangement. His mouth is cut broadly, and
directly from one jaw to the other, and has neither richness
nor curve. There are in his cheeks two deep cavities, which
in his younger days might have possibly passed for dimples,
hollowed out in the midst of yellow flesh. Here it is that
Ridicule seems to have chosen her perpetual residence, for T do
not remember to have seen her give way to any more kindly
or gentle sentiment. His nose is broad at the root ; its nostrils
are distended, and it terminates in an ascending point : but
it is too short for profile, and lies in a side view almost con-
_!n the folds of parchment by which it is encompassed,

HIS PHYSIOGNOMY. I S3

'The eyes are dark, bright, and- intellectual, but the lids are
shrivelled and pursed up in such a manner, and seemingly by
an act of will, as to leave but a small space between their
contracted rims for the gleams of vision that are permitted to
escape. They seem to insinuate that it is not worth their
while to be open, in order to survey the insignificant object on
which they may chance to light. The forehead is thoughtful
and high, but from the posture of the head, which is thrown
back and generally aside, it appropriately surmounts this
singular assemblage of features, and lends an important con-
tribution to the sardonic effect of the whole.

His deportment is in keeping with his physiognomy. If the
reader will suggest to his imagination the figure of a Mandarin,
receiving Lord Amherst* at the palace at Pekin, and with

* The British Government, always anxious to establish intimate commercial
and political relations with China, despatched Lord Macartney, at the head of
a special Embassy, in 1792. He and his suite reached China the following
year, were received there, with all courtesy as " tribute-bearers," and were
promised an audience of the Emperor, provided they would perform the usual
prostrations of the person made in the presence of his Majesty by his own sub-
jects. This was declined, but Lord Macartney finally offered to perform the
Kou-to (as it is called) if some high officer of state would previously do like
homage before a portrait of George III. Lord Macartney and Sir George
Staunton actually had the promised audience, each kneeling on one knee as
they presented the Emperor with a magnificent gold box, richly adorned with
jewels, which contained the King of England's letter, which, with other pres-
ents, was well received, and the return of the embassy requested. In 1816,
Lord Amherst headed a second embassy, and strongly declined making the
required nine prostrations to the Emperor,, declaring he would pay him the
same homage as he yielded to his own sovereign, and no more — unless a Tar-
tar mandarin of rank would perform the Ko-tou before the portrait of the Eng-
lish ruler. Finally, on the Emperor's declaration that Lord Macartney had
Ko-toued on ihe former occasion, Lord Amherst agreed to do the same — but
the Embassy was literally hurried out of the countiy, to their ships on the coast,
before this could be done. A reply to the Royal letter from England pompously
intimated that it would not again be necessary to send " a tribute-bearer"from
such a distance. The two embassies cost about three hundred and fifty thou-
sand pounds sterling. Napoleon (who was visited at St Helena by Lord Am-
herst, on his return from China), said he should have complied with the cus-
toms of the place, or not have been sent at all, for that what the chief men of
a nation practise toward their chief, could not degrade strangers to prac-
tise. — M.

184

contemptuous courtesy proposing to Ins lordship the ceremony
of the Ko-tou, he will form a pretty accurate notion of the
bearing, the manners, and the hue of Mr. Joy, his Majesty's
Solicitor-General for Ireland. He is extremely polite, but his
politeness is as Chinese as his look, and appears to be dic-
tated rather by a sense of what he owes to himself than by
any deference to the person who has the misfortune to be its
object.

And yet with all this assumption of dignity, Mr. Joy is not
precisely dignified. He is in a perpetual effort to sustain nis
consequence, and arms himself against the least invasion upon
his title to respect. Of its legitimacy, however, he does not
appear to be completely satisfied. He seems a spy upon his
own importance, and keeps Avatch over the sacred treasure
with a most earnest and unremitting vigilance. Accord-
ingly, he is for ever busy with himself. There is nothing ab-
stract and meditative in his aspect, nor does his mind ever
wander beyond the immediate localities that surround him.
There is "no speculation in his eye;" an intense conscious-
ness pervades all that he says and does. I never yet saw him
lost in revery.

When disengaged from his professional occupations, he
stands in the Hall with the same collected manner which he
bore in the discharge of his duties to his client, and with his
thoughts fastened to the spot. While others are pacing with
rapidity along the flags which have worn out so many hopes,
Joy remains in stationary stateliness, peering with a sidelong
look at the peristrephic panorama that revolves around him.
The whole, however, of what is going on is referred to his own
individuality ; self is the axis of the little world about him,
and while he appears scarcely conscious of the presence of a
single person in all the crowd by which he is encompassed, he
is in reality noting down the slightest glance that may be con-
nected with himself. .

There is something so artificial in the demeanor of Mr. Joy,
and especially in the authoritativeness which he assumes with
the official silk in which he attires his person, that his external
appearance gives but little indication of his character. His

AS A JtTfcGE. 185

dispositions are much more commendable than a. disciple of
Lavater would be inclined to surmise. I suspect that his liau-
teur is worn from a conviction that the vulgar are most inclined
to reverence the man by whom they are most strenuously de-
spised. Upon a view of Mr. Joy, it would be imagined that
he would not prove either a very humane or patient judge;*
but it is quite otherwise, and those who have had an opportu-
nity of observing him in a judicial capacity upon circuit, con-
cur in the desire that he should be permanently placed in a
situation for which he has already displayed in its transitory
occupation so many conspicuous qualities.

* Chief-Baron Joy was a good judge; — sound in his law, impartial in Mi
judgments, and courteous in his demeanor. — M.

CALAMITIES OF THE BAE.

NOT very long after I had been called to the bar, I one day
chanced to observe a person standing beside a pillar in the Hall
of the Four Courts, the peculiar wretchedness of whose aspect
attracted my notice. I was upon my way to the subterranean
chamber where the wigs and gowns of lawyers are kept, and
was revolving at the moment the dignity and importance of
the station to which I had been raised by my enrolment among
the members of the Irish bar. I was interrupted in this inter-
esting meditation by the miserable object upon which my eyes
had happened to rest; and, without being a dilettante in afflic-
tion, I could not help pausing to consider the remarkable spe-
cimen of wretchedness that stood before me.

Had the unfortunate man been utterly naked, his condition
would not have appeared so pitiable. His raiment served to
set his destitution off. A coat, which had once been black, but
which appeared to have been steeped in a compound of all rusty
hues, hung in rags about him. It was closely pinned at his
throat, to conceal the absence of a neckcloth. He was without
a vest. A shirt of tattered yellow, which from a time beyond
memory had adhered to his withered body, appeared through
numerous apertures in his upper garment, and jutted out round
that portion of his person where a garb without a name is usu-
ally attached. The latter part of his attire, which was con-
spicuous for a prismatic diversity of color, was fastened with a
piece of twine to the extreme button of his upper habiliment,
and very incompletely supplied the purpose for which the pro-
genitors of mankind, after their first initiation into knowledge,
employed a vegetable veil. Through the inferior regions of

Atf tJtfffORTtNATE LAWYER. 18?

tliis imperfect integument, there depended a shred or two of
that inner garment, which had been long sacred to nastiness,
and which the fingers of the laundress never had profaned.
His stockings were compounded of ragged worsted and accu-
mulated mire. They covered a pair of fleshless bones, but did
not extend to the feet, the squalid nakedness of which was
visible through the shoes that hung soaked with wet about
them.

He was dripping with rain, and shivering with cold. His
figure was shrunken and diminutive. A few gray locks were
wildly scattered upon jt small and irregularly-shaped head.
Despair and famine sat upon his face, which was of the strong
Celtic mould, with its features thrown in disorder, and desti-
tute of all symmetry or proportion, but deriving from the pas-
sions, by which they were distorted, an expression of ferocious
haggardness. His beard was like that which grows upon the
dead. The flesh was of a cadaverous complexion. His gray
eyes, although laden with rheum, caught a savageness from
the eyelids, which were bordered with a jagged rim of diseased
and bloody red. A hideous mouth was lined with a row of
shattered ebony, and from the instinct of long hunger had ac-
quired an habitual gape for food. The wretched man was
speaking vehemently and incoherently to himself. It was a
sort of insane jabbering — a mad soliloquy, in which "my
Lord" was frequently repeated.

I turned away with a mingled sentiment of disgust and hor-
ror, and, endeavoring to release my recollection from the pain-
ful image which so frightful an object had left behind, I pro-
ceeded to invest myself in my professional trappings : tied a
band with precision about my neck ; complained, as is the wont
with the junior bar, that my wig had not been duly besprinkled
with powder, and that its curls were not developed with suffi-
cient amplitude ; set it rectilinearly upon my head ; and, after
casting a look into the glass, and marking the judicial organ
in a certain prominence upon my brow, I readjusted the folds
of my gown, and reascended the Hall of the Four Courts in a
pleasurable state of unqualified contentedness with myself.
I directed my steps to the Court of Chancery, and, having

188 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.

no better occupation, I determined to follow the example of
certain sagacious aspirants to the office of Commissioner of
Bankrupts, and to dedicate the day to an experiment in nod-
ding, which I had seen put into practice with effect. There
are a set of juvenile gentlemen who have taken for their motU
the words of a Scotch ballad, which, upon a recent motion foi
an injunction, Lord Eldon* affected not to understand, bul
which, if he had looked' for a moment upon the benches of
youthful counsellors before him, while in the act of delivering
a judicial aphorism, he would have found interpreted in one
of the senses of which they are susceptible, and have discov-
ered a meaning in "We're all a-nodding," of obvious applica-
tion to the bar. Confident in the flexibility of my neck, and
a certain plastic facility of expression, I imagined that I was
not without some talent for assentation ; and accordingly seated
myself in such a place that the eye of my Lord Manners, in
seeking refuge from the inquisitorial physiognomy of Mr.
Plunket, would probably rest upon me.

The Court began to fill. The young aristocracy of the bar,
the sons of Judges, and fifth cousins of members of Parliament,
and the whole rising generation of the Kildare-street Club,
gradually dropped in. Next appeared, at the inner bar, the
more eminent practitioners tottering under their huge bags,
upon which many a briefless senior threw a mournful and re-
pining glance. First came Mr. Pennefather,t with his calm

* Lord-Chancellor Eldon, although born close to the Scottish border, affected
not to understand the Scotch dialect and pronunciation. He was once hearing
appeals, in the House of Lords, and Mr. Clerk, an eminent Edinburgh lawyer
(afterward a Judge, and. called Lord Eldin), having said, in his broadest ac-
cent, "In plain English, my Lords," was interrupted, half-seriously, by Lord
Eldon, with — "In plain Scotch, I suppose you mean?" — " Nae matter," re-
joined Clerk, "in plain common sense, my Lord — and that's the same io all
languages — ye '11 ken if you understand it." — M.

t There were two Irish barristers named Pennefather. Edward, the junior,
called to the bar in 1796, was inferior to none as a lawyer and an advocate.
He had immense practice ; and though compelled, by ill-health, occasionally to
retire fron labor, attorneys would flock to him with briefs the moment he re-
turned. 1 1 this respect he was as fortunate as the late Sir William Follett, of
the English bar, and both negatived the commonly-received belief that " when
a lawyer leaves his business, his business leaves him." Edward Pennefathei

THE PAUPER BARRISTER. 189

and unruffled forehead, his flushed cheek, and his subtilizing
and somewhat over-anxious eye. He was succeeded by Mr.
Sergeant Lefroy, who after casting a smile of pious recognition
upon a brace of neophytes behind, rolled out a ponderous brief,
and reluctantly betook himself to the occupations of this sub-
lunary world. Next came Mr. Blackburne,* with his smug fea-
tures, but beaming and wily eye ; Mr. Crampton,t with an air
of elaborated frankness ; Mr. Warren,! with an expression of
atrabilious honesty ; Mr. Saurin, looking as if he had never
been Attorney-General ; and Mr. Plunket, as if he never could
cease, to be so. Lastly appeared my Lord Manners, with that
strong affinity to the Stuart cast of face, and that fine urbanity
of manner, which, united with a sallow face and a meagre figure,
makes him seem like the phantom of Charles II.

The Court was crowded, the business of the day was called
on ; Mr. Prendergast,|| with that depth of registerial intonation
which belongs to him, had called on the first cause, when sud-
denly a cry, or rather an Irish howl, of "My Lord, my Lord,"
rose from the remote seats of the Court, and made the whole
assembly look back. A barrister in a wig and gown was seen
clambering from bench to bench, and upsetting all opposition,
rolling over some and knocking down others, and uttering in
a vehement and repeated ejaculation, " My Lord, my Lord,"
as he advanced, or rather tumbled over every impediment. At

was offered the office of Lord-Chancellor of Ireland in 1841, when Sug-den was
in doubt about accepting it, and became Solicitor-General only on a promise
that he should have the next Chief-Justiceship vacancy. That was of the
Queen's Bench, in which capacity he presided at the O'Connell State-Trials in
1843— '4. He was then seventy years of age, and did not long survive. — Rich-
ard Pennefather, called to the bar in 1795, is now (1854) one of the puime
Barons of the Exchequer in Ireland. — M.

* Late Lord-Chancellor of Ireland, in 1852, under the Derby-D'Israeli Min-
istry, and the subject of a later sketch. -"-M.

t Now (1854) one of the Judges of the Court of Queen's Bench in Ire-
land.—M.

t Mr. Wan-en, without any remarkable brilliancy or depth, has obtained high
credit and large pi-actice at the Irish bar. He was made a Sergeant-at-Law,
and pleaded for the Crown, at the State-Trials of 1843-'4. — M.

|| Registrar of the Irish Court of Chancery-under Lord Manners, He L;us
lojr>£ dince passed away. — M,

190 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.

length lie readied the lower bench, where he remained breath-
less for a moment, overcome by the exertion which he had
made to gain that prominent station in the court. The first
sensation was one of astonishment ; this was succeeded by reit-
erated laughter, which even the strictness of Chancery etiquette
could not restrain. I could not for a moment believe the assu-
rance of my senses, until, looking at him again and again, I
became satisfied that this strange barrister (for a barrister it
was) was no other than the miserable man whom I had ob-
served in the Hall, and of whom I have given a faint and im-
perfect picture.

After the roar of ridicule had subsided, the unfortunate gen-
tleman received an intimation from Lord Manners that he
should be heard — when he addressed the court in a speech,
of the style of delivery of which it is impossible to convey to
an English reader any adequate notion, but which ran to the
following effect: "It is now, may it please your honorable
Lordship, more than forty years, since, with a mournful step
and a heavy heart, I followed the remains of your Lordship's
illustrious relative, the Duke of Rutland,* to the grave." The

* Charles Manners, fourth Duke of Rutland, born in 1754, was appointed
Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in 1784, and died, while in office, in October, 1787,
at the early age of thirty-three. He was cousin (three removed) to Luid-Chan-
cellor Manners. He was a bon-vivant, and a man of pleasure. In the former
capacity he was entertained by the Mayor of Cork, and, happening to praise
some wine which was making the circuit of the board, was rather astounded
at the Mayor's cool reply : " Well, my Lord Duke, it is good claret, but nothing
to be compared with a better quality in my cellar!" This Viceroy it was who,
in a convivial moment, " when the wine was in," insisted on knighting the
landlord of the country inn at which he happened to be stopping. The next
morning, he endeavored to pass it off as a joke, and, giving the landlord a
handful of guineas, said, " Pat, you must not mind what passed last night;
t'-vas all a joke." Carefully pocketing the gold, the beknighted landlord made
his best bow, and said, "As to that, your Excellency, 'tis all one to me — but
what will Lady O'Shaugknessysay?" To his dying day, therefore, he contin-
ued to be called Sir Patrick O'Shaughnessy. The Duke of Rutland was in the
habit of visiting certain houses and persons of not quite the purest reputation.
In his time, there was a handsome profligate, named Peg Plunket, who was
presumed, and not untruly (as all accounts declare), to be very particularly in
his Grace's good graces — whatever these may have been. At the theatre, one
|»yening, this fair and frail one made her appearance, and the wagg called out.

A STKANGE OKATION 101

moment this sentence had been pronounced, and it was uttered
with a barbarous impressiveness, the Chancellor leaned for-
ward, and assumed an aspect of profound attention. The bar
immediately composed their features into sympathy with tho
judicial countenance, and a general expression of compassion
pervaded the court.

The extraordinary orator continued: "Yes, my Lord, trie
unfortunate man who stands before you, did, as a scholar of
Trinity College, attend the funeral-procession with which the
members of the University of Dublin followed the relics of
your noble relative to an untimely tomb. My eyes, my Lord,
are now filled by my own calamities, but they were then moist-
ened by that sorrow, which, in common with the whole of the
loyal part of the Irish nation (for, my Lord, I am a Protestant),
I felt for the loss of your noble and ever-to-be-lamented kins-
man." (The bar looked up to Lord Manners, and, perceiving
his Lordship's attention still more strongly riveted, preserved
their gravity.) " Oh, my Lord, I feel that I am addressing
myself to a man who carries a true nobleness of sentiment in
every drop of his honorable blood. God Almighty bless your
Lordship ! you belong, ay, every bit of you, to the noble house
of Rutland; and aren't you the uncle of a Duke, and the
brother of his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury ?"*
" But in what cause, Mr. M'Mahon, are you counsel ?"
" In my own, my Lord. It is a saying, my Lord, that he

"Ah, Peg ! who passed last night with you, Peg ?" At that moment the Duke
of Rutland, whose family name was Manners, entered the vice-regal hox, ac-
companied by his young and lovely wife. Peg, turning round to her querists,
with a sly look at the Duke, exclaimed, " Manners ! you blackguards !" The
whole audience burst into a shout of laughter, in which the Duke himself could
not help joining. History does not record what was the Duchess's opinion of
the reply, retort, and occasion ! — M.

* Lord Manners was not uncle of a Duke. His father, Lord (Jeorge Man •
ners, son of the third Duke of Rutland, on succeeding to the estates of his ma-
ternal grandfather, Lord Lexington, whose family name was Sutton, assumed
that surname. He was only cousin, at some distance, too,, from the Duke of
Rutland. His elder brother, Charles Manners Sutton, born in 1755, became
Archbishop of Canterbury, and died in July, 1828. The Archbishop's eldest
eon, Speaker of the House of Commons for seventeen years, was created Via-
count Canterbury, in 1835. — M.

192 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.

who is his own counsel, has a madman for his client. But, my
Lord, I have no money to fee my hrethren. I haven't the
quiddam honorarium, my Lord ; and, if I am mad, it is poverty,
and persecution, and the Jesuits, that have made me so. Ay,
my Lord, the Jesuits! For who is counsel against me — I
don't mean that Popish demagogue Daniel O'Oonnell, though
he was brought up at St. Omer, and had enough he is too, for
abusing your Lordship about the appeals; but I mean that
real son of Loyola, Tom , who was once a practising par-
son, and is now nothing but a Jesuit in disguise. But let him
beware ! Bagenal Harvey, who was one of my persecutors,
came to an untimely end."*

Such was the exordium of Counsellor M'Mahon,t the rest of
whose oration was in perfect conformity with the introductory
passages from which I have given an extract. But, in order
to form any estimate of his eloquence, you should have seen
the prodigy itself: the vehemence of his gesture corresponded
with the intensity of his emotions. His hands were violently
clinched, and furiously dashed against his forehead. His
mouth was spattered with discolored foam. His wig, of un-
powdered horsehair, was flung off, and, in the variety of frantic
attitude which he assumed, his gown was thrown open, and he
stood with scarcely any covering but his ragged shirt, in a
state of frightful emaciation, before the court.

When this ridiculous but painful scene had concluded, " So
much," I whispered to myself, " for the dignity of the Irish
bar !" I confess that I divested myself of my professional
trappings, after having witnessed this exhibition of degradation
and of misery, with very different feelings from those with

* Bagenal Harvey, of Bargray Castle, was an Irish barrister, of good fortune,
family standing, and talents. He was a United Irishman in 1798, and eventu-
ally became Generalissimo of the insurgents, in the outbreak of that year. He
fell into the hands of Lake, the royalist General, who immediately hanged him,
in company with several others, and placed their heads upon spikes over the
door of the Courthouse of Wexford, where they blackened in the sun for several
weeks. — M.

!t This unfortunate man, who had distinguished himself in the University of
Dublin, and in early life had married a woman of large fortune, was lately fountf
fjead in Sackville street [in X924, — M.].

PROFESSIONAL MISERY. 193

winch I had put them on ; and, as I walked from the Courts
with the impression of mingled shame and commiseration still
fresh upon me, I ventured to inquire of my own consciousness
whether there was anything so cabalistic in the title of Coun-
sellor, which I shared in common with the wretched man,
whom I afterward found to be in daily attendance upon the
Hall, and whether I had not a little exaggerated the impor-
tance to which I imagined that every barrister possessed an
indisputable claim. It occurred to me, of course, that the in-
stance of calamity which I had just witnessed was a peculiar
one, and carried with it more of the outward and visible signs
of distress than are ordinarily revealed. But is agony the less
poignant, because its groans are hushed 1 Is it because sorrow
is silent, that it does not "consume the heart"? or did the
Spartan feel less pain, because the fangs that tore him were
hidden beneath his robe?

There is at the Irish bar a much larger quantity of affliction
than is generally known. The necessity of concealing calam-
ity is in itself a great ill. The struggle between poverty and
gentility, which the ostentatious publicity of the profession in
Ireland has produced, has, I believe, broken many hearts. If
the Hall of the Four Courts were the Palace of Truth, and all
its inmates carried a transparency in their bosoms, we should
see a swarm of corroding passions at court in the breasts of
many whose countenances are now arrayed in an artificial
hilarity of look ; and, even as it is, how many a glimpse of
misery may be caught by the scrutinizing eye that pierces
through the faces into the souls of men ! The mask by which
it is sought to conceal the real features of the mind will often
drop off, and intimations of affliction will, upon a sudden, be
involuntarily given. This is the case even with those whom
the world is disposed to account among the prosperous ; but
there is a large class, who, to an attentive and practised ob-
server, appear habitually under the influence of painful emo-
tion. The author of " Vathek" (a man conversant in affliction)
has represented the condemned pacing through the Hall of
Eblis with the same slow and everlasting footfall ; and I con-
fess that the blank and dejected air, the forlorn and hopeless

VOL. I. — 9

194 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.

eye, the measured and heart-broken pace, of many a man,
whom I have observed in his revolution through the same eternal
round in the Hall of the Four Courts, have sometimes recalled
to me the recollection of Mr. Beckford's melancholy fancies.

If I were called upon to assign the principal cause of the
calamities of which so many examples occur at the Irish bar,
I should be disposed to say that their chief source lay in the
unnatural elevation to which the members of that body are
exalted by the provincial inferiority to which Ireland is re-
duced. The absence from the metropolis of the chief proprie-
tors, and indeed of almost all the leading gentry, has occa-
sioned the substitution of a kind of spurious aristocracy. An
Irish barrister is indebted for his importance to the insignifi-
cance of his country ; but this artificial station becomes event-
ually a misfortune to those who are dependent upon their daily
exertions for their support ; and who, instead of practising those
habits of provident frugality which are imposed by their com-
parative obscurity upon the cloistered tenants of the two Tem-
ples, become slaves to their transitory consequence; and, after
having wasted the hard earnings of their youth and manhood
in preposterous efforts at display, leave their families no better
inheritance than the ephemeral sympathy of that public whose
worthless respect they had purchased at so large a cost. Let
any man look back to the numerous instances in which appeals
have been made to the general commiseration upon the decease
of some eminent member of the bar, and he will not be disposed
to controvert the justice of this censure upon the ostentatious
tendencies of the profession.

Ireland is, I believe, the only country where there exists
among the bar this preposterous tendency to ostentatious ex-
pense. The French bar, for example, live in respectable
privacy, and are wholly free from extravagance. It is, I
fancy, a mistake to suppose that the profits of the more emi-
nent among them are too inconsiderable to permit of the
silliness of display. The fees paid to French counsel of rep<
utation, for their opinions, are large. Those opinions, indeed,
are elaborate essays upon the law, and are called "Consul-
tations," I had occasion, Avhen in Paris, to consult Trippier,

A FRENCH LAWYER. 195

who is accounted the lest lawyer in Paris. He lives in the
Rue Groix des Petis Champs, in apartments of a small size
and indifferently furnished ; and although he has amassed a
large fortune, and has only two daughters, lives with a pru-
dence which, if an Irishman were to publish a dictionary of
synonymes, would be inserted as another name for avarice. I
was not a little anxious to see this celebrated advocate, and
Avaited impatiently in his study for his arrival. A French
lawyer accompanied me, who observed that all his books
related exclusively to law. The speeches of Cochin and Patin
seemed, indeed, to be the only works connected with litera-
ture in his library. I was informed that Trippier valued
nothing but the profits of his trade, and that he was wholly
innocent of the sin of polite reading. At last the great legiste
appeared. I was instantaneously struck with his strong re-
semblance to Curraii. He is of precisely the same dimen-
sions, has a countenance cast in the same mould, the same
complexion, the same irregularity of feature, and the same
black, and brilliant eye. It also surprised me to find that there
was an affinity in the sound of the voice, and a similar ten-
dency to place the hand to the chin, and to throw up the head
and eye in the act of speaking. He received us with brief
courtesy, and seemed very anxious that we should proceed at
once to the point. He placed himself in a huge chair, and
assumed a most oracular aspect. I was a good deal amused
by the transition of his manner, in which there was not a little
of the conjuror. He drew one knee over the other, and ex-
tended his foot, which was covered with a tight green slipper.
He wrapped himself up in his black silk role dc cJtambre*
sustained his head with his left hand, fixed his fore finger on
his brow, and, placing his right hand to his mouth, protruded
his nether lip with an air of infallibility. After hearing an
oral statement, to which he gave" an occasional nod, he put his
fee into his pocket, and saying that the facts should be set
forth upon paper, and that he should then write his opinion,
bowed us out of the room. — Nota Bcne, A French lawyer
receives a double fee on a written statement, and fifteen Napo-
leons are not unusually paid to Trippier.

196 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.

The life of an eminent lawyer may be thus rapidly sketched :
— He is called without any other property than those talents
which have not in general a descendible quality. For some
years he remains unemployed : at last gets a brief, creeps into
the partialities of a solicitor, and sets up a bag and a wife
together. Irish morality does not permit the introduction into
the chambers of a barrister of those moveable objects of
unwedded endearment, which Lord Thurlow used to recom-
mend to the juvenile members of the profession ; and mar-
riage, that perpetual blister, is prescribed as the only effectual
sanative for the turbulent passions of the Irish bar.

In the spirit of imprudence, which is often mistaken for
romance, our young counsellor enters with some dowerless
beauty into an indissoluble copartnership of the heart. A
pretty pauper is almost sure to be a prodigal. " Live like
yourself," is soon my lady's word. " Shall Mrs. O'Brallaghan,
the wife of a mere attorney, provokingly display her amor-
phous ankle, as she ascends the crimson steps of her carriage,
with all the airs of fashionable impertinence ; and is the wife
of a counsellor in full practice, though she may have 'ridden
double' at her aunt Deborah's, to be unprovided with that
ordinary convenience of persons of condition ?" After a faint
show of resistance, the conjugal injunction is obeyed.

But is it in an obscure street that the coachman is to bring
his clattering horses to an instantaneous stand ? Is he to
draw up in an alley, and to wheel round in a cul de sac? And
then there is such a bargain to be had of a house in Merrion-
square. A house in Merrion-square is accordingly purchased,
and a bond, with warrant of attorney for confessing judgment
thereon, is passed for the fine. The lady discovers a taste
in furniture, and the profits of four circuits are made oblations
to virtu. The counsellor is raised to the dignity of King's
Consul, and his lady is initiated into the splendors of the
Vice-Regal court. She is now thrown into the eddies of fash-
ionable life ; and in order to afford evidence of her domestic
propensities, she issues cards to half the town, with an inti-
mation that she is ' at home."

She has all this while been prolific to the full extent of Hi-

THE PEATH-BED StTKVEY. 397

bernian fecundity. The counsellor's sons swagger it, with tlie
choicest spirits of Kild are street; and tlie young ladies are
accomplished in all the multifarious departments of musical
and literary affectation. Quadrilles and waltzes shako the
illuminated chambers with a perpetual concussion. The pas-
senger is arrested in his nocturnal progress by the crowd of
brilliant vehicles before the door, while the blaze of light
streaming from the windows, and the sound ( f the harp and
the taber, and the din of extravagance, intimate the joy aim ce
that is going on within. But where is the counsellor all this
while? He sits in a sequestered chamber, like a hermit in the
forest of Oomus, and pursues his midnight labors by the light
of a solitary taper, scarcely hearing the din of pleasure that
rolls above his head.

The wasteful splendor of the drawing-room, and the patient
drudgery of the library, go on for years. The counsellor is at
the top of the forensic, and his lady stands upon the 'summit
of the fashionable world. At length death knocks at the
door. He is seized by a sudden illness. The loud knock of
the judges peals upon his ear, but the double tap of the attor-
ney is heard no more. He makes an unavailing effort to
attend the Courts, but is hurried back to his house, and laid in
his bed. His eyes now begin to open to the realities of his
condition. In the loneliness and silence of the sick man's
chamber a train of reflections presents itself to his mind, which
his former state of professional occupancy had tended to ex-
clude. He takes a death-bed survey of his circumstances ;
looks upon the future; and by the light of that melancholy s
lamp that burns beside him, and throws its shadowy gleams i
upon his fortunes, he sees himself, at the close of a most pros-
perous life, without a groat. The sense of his own folly, and
the anticipated destitution of his family, settle at his heart.
He has not adopted even the simple and cheap expedient of
insuring his life, or by some miserable negligence has let the
insurance drop. What is to become of his wife and his chil-
dren ? From the sources of his best affections, and of his
purest pleasures, he drinks that potion — that aqua Tophana
of the mind, which renders all the expedients of nrt without

108 CALAMITIES OF THE BA&. *

avail. Despair sits ministering beside him with her poisoned
; chalice, and bids defiance to Colles and to Cheyne.* His

* Colles and Cheyne were at the head of the medical profession in Dublin
for many years. Abraham Colles, born in 1773, studied at Dublin University,
and was admitted a licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons in 1795. Im-
mediately after, he went to Edinburgh, then a great school of medicine, and
there received the degree of M. D. He thence went to London, where he
pursued further anatomical studies and much assisted in making the dissec-
tions from which were made the engi-avings in his friend Astley Qooper's work
on Hernia. Returning to Dublin, he was elected resident surgeon of Steven's
Hospital, which he continued from 1799 to 1833, and thence, as visiting sur-
geon, to 1842. He became a member of the Irish College of Surgeons, was
uiany years Censor and thrice President of that body. He published several
valuable woi-ks on Surgery, and one on the " Use of Mercury." He died in
December, 1843, aged 71 years. In 1804 he was made Professor of Anatomy
and Surgery, in the College of Surgeons, and continued in that chair until 1836.
The result of his lectures was this — that there were sixty medical and surgi-
cal students per annum, when he commenced, and the annual average latterly
was nearly a thousand. Dr. James W. Powell, now of New York (the eminent
oculist), who was one of Colles' pupils, informs me that his lectures were " un-
ambitious in language, clear in arrangement, full of facts, sound in theory
plain in delivery, and crowded with practical illustrations." In those essen
tials they resembled those of Abernethy, in London. Colles was an excellent
anatomist — but averse to show or display. He was the first surgeon in Ireland
who ever tied the subclavial artery : an operation previously performed onlv
twice in England. And, in this briefest notice, should be recorded that Colles
was the first surgeon in Europe who ever passed a ligature round the arteria
innominata, the first and largest branch derived from the great trunk of the
aorta. — Colles was somewhat of a humoi'ist. In his fee-book, which he care-
fully kept from the commencement of his practice, he had many curious entries,
such as " For giving ineffectual advice for deafness ; one guinea; — for attempt-
ing to draw out the stump of a tooth, one guinea ; — for telling him that he
was no more ill than I was, one guinea; — for nothing that 1 know, except that
he probably thought he did not pay me enough last time, one guinea." — Colles
was offered a baronetcy, which he declined, sensibly saying that the distribu-
tion he intended making of his landed property (worth two thousand pounds
sterling a year) would not leave his eldest son sufficient to support an heredi-
tary title. — D.r. John Cheyne, for many years at the head of the physicians
in Ireland, was a native of Scotland, and born in 1777. He served in the
Artillery as surgeon, was on duty in Ireland, during the revolt of 1798, and
on his return to Scotland, became acquainted with Mr. (afterward Sir Charles)
Bc.fl, with whom he studied pathology and anatomy. At the age of thirty-five,
Dr. Cheyne setded in Dublin. The leading men in the profession, who speedily
MW that he uvderstood acute diseases, as well as being acquainted with mor-
bid anatomy, Reeled him Physician to Meath Hospital, and, soon after, he waa

CtOSING SCENti. 10&

family gather about Lim. The last consolations of religion
are given, amid heart-broken sobs ; and as he raises himself,
and stretches forth his head to receive the final rite, he casts
his eyes upon the wretches who surround him, and shrinks
back at the sight.

It is in the midst of a scene like this, and when the hour of /
agony is at hand, that the loud and heartless voice of official >
insolence echoes from chamber to chamber; and, after a brief j
interval, the dreadful certainty, of which the unhappy man
had but too prescient a surmise, is announced. The sheriffs
officers have got in ; his majesty's writ of Jieri facias is in the
progress of execution ; the sanctuaries of death are violated "
by the peremptory ministers of the law, and the blanket and
the silk gown are seized together; and this is the conclusion \J-
of a life of opulence and of distinction, and, let me add, of folly
as well as fame. After having charmed his country by his
eloquence, and enlightened it by his erudition, he breathes his
last sigh amid the tears of his children, the reproaches of his
creditors, and a bailiff's jests.

made Professor of the practice of physic, to the College of Surgeons. This
being during the Peninsular war, when there was a great demand for army-sur-
geons, his lectures entered fully into military medicine, and were crowded du-
ring five courses. He was appointed Physician to the House of Industry in
1815, resigning his College Professorship and, in 1820, was appointed Phy-
sician-General to the Army, the highest medical rank in Ireland. His annual
income during the next ten years averaged five thousand pounds sterling, from
private practice alone. In 1831, he was compelled, by the formation of the cli
macteric disease, which finally killed him, to retire from practice, amid the regret
of all branches of the profession, and took up his abode at Sherington, a small
village in England, where (to use his own words) " thinking it better to wear
out than to rust out," he practised gratuitously among the poor, wrote some ar-
ticles for " The Cyclopaedia of Practical Medicine," and died on the last day
of January, 1836. His family published a posthumus work, written after his
retirement, called, " Essays on Partial Derangement of the Mind, in supposed
connection with Religion," in which his theory is that derangement of the mind/
invariably is connected with bodily disorder — that religious madness in the first ;
instance, is perversion of only one power of the mind — that clergymen err in \
placing Divine truth before those laboring under mental delusion until the bod-
ily disease with which it is connected is curejd or relieved — and that many of
the doubts and fenrs of some religious persons depend either upon ignorance
of the constitution and operations of the mind, or upon diseases of the body.— 34-

200 CALAMITIES OF Tttti BAT?,.

The calamities of which I have drawn this sombre picture,
are the result of weakness and ostentation. Their victims are,
upon that account, less deserving of commiseration than the
unhappy persons whose misfortunes have not been their fault.
This obvious reflection recalls the image of Henry MacDougall.
I hear his honest laugh, which it was good for a splenetic heart
to hear ; I see the triumph of sagacious humor in his eye ;
those feats of fine drollery, in which pleasantry and usefulness
were so felicitously combined, rise again to my recollection ;
the roar of merriment into which the bar, the jury, and the
bench used to be thrown by this inaster of forensic mirth, re-
turns upon my ear ; but, alas ! a disastrous token, with the
types of death upon it, mingles itself with these associations.
Poor MacDougall ! he was prized by the wise and beloved by
the good ; and, with a ready Avit and a cheerful and sonorous
laugh, he had a manly and independent spirit and a generous
and feeling heart.

Mr. MacDougall was at the head of the Leinster circuit, and
was, if not the best, among the very first class of cross-exami-
ners at the Bar. No man better knew how to assail an Irish
witness. There was, at first, nothing of the brow-beating or
dictatorial tone about this good-humored inquisitor, who en-
tered into an easy familiarity with his victim, and addressed
him in that spirit of fantastic gibe, which is among the charac-
teristics of the country. The witness thought himself on a
level with the counsellor, who invited him to a wrestling-
match in wit, and, holding it a great victory to trip a lawyer
up, promptly accepted the challenge. A hard struggle used
often to ensue, and many a time I have seen the counsellor get
a severe fall. However, he contrived to be always uppermost
at last. The whole of " the fancy," who are very numerous in
Dublin, used to assemble to witness these intellectual gym-
nastics. A kind of ring wag formed round the combatants, and
my Lord Norbury sat as arbiter of the contest, and insisted
upon fair play. The peals of laughter which were produced
by his achievements in pleasantry procured for MacDougall
the title of " MacDougall of the Roar."

I shall not readily forget his last display. An action fof

MACbOtJGALL THE BARRISTER. 201

slandei was brought by an apothecary against a rival pharma-
copolist. One of the apprentices of the plaintiff was his lead-
ing witness, and it fell to Mr. MacDougall to cross-examine
him. The wily lawyer induced the youthful Podalirius to
make a display of his acquirements in detailing the whole
process of his art. The farce of the " Mock Doctor" has never
produced more mirth. All the faculty attended, and the crowd
of doctors, surgeons, and man-midwives, reached the roof.
They were, however, reluctantly compelled to join in the
tumult of laughter created by this formidable jester at their
expense. The chorus of apothecaries in Moliere's " Bourgeois
Gentilhomme," in which the various mysteries of the profession
are detailed, does not disclose more matter for merriment than
was revealed in the course of this ludicrous investigation.

It is recorded of the " satirical knave," that he was assailei
by the illness of which he died during the personation of a
character intended as a ridicule upon the faculty. I sat close
to Mr. MacDougall, and while I participated in all its mirth,
my attention was attracted by a handkerchief which the
author of all this merriment was frequently applying to his
mouth, and which was clotted with blood. I thought, at first,
that it proceeded from some ordinary effusion, and turned
again toward the witness, when a loud laugh from the counsel
at the success of a question which he had administered to the
young apothecary, touching his performance of Romeo in the
private theatre in Fishamble-street [Dublin], directed my
notice a second time to Mr. MacDougall, and I perceived that,
while the whole auditory was shaken with mirth, he was taking
a favorable opportunity of thrusting the bloody handkerchief
into his bag, without attracting the general attention, and
immediately after applied another to his lips. Again he set
upon the Romeo of Fishamble street, and produced new bursts
of ridicule, of which he took advantage to steal his bloody
napkins away, and to supply himself, without notice, with the
means of concealing the malady which was hurrying him to
the grave.

A day or two after this trial his illness and his ruin were
announced. His high reputation in his profession, his private

CALAMITIES o# THE

worth, liis large family, and tlie opinion which had been enter-
tained of his great professional prosperity, fixed the public
attention upon him. It was at last discovered that all the
earnings of a laborious life had been laid out in speculations
upon lands belonging to the corporation of Waterford, to the
representation of which, it is supposed, he aspired. He ha<?
borrowed large sums of money, and had subjected himself tc
enormous rents. He was induced, in the hope of ultimately
retrieving his circumstances, to involve himself more deeply in
debt; and the rank of King's counsel, to which he was raised
by Mr. Plunket, in a manner equally honorable to both, offered
a new career to his talents, and led him to expect that all his
difficulties might be at last surmounted. But the hope was a
vain one. The pressure was too great for him to bear, and he
sunk at last beneath it.

For a long time he struggled hard to conceal the state of his
circumstances and of his mind, and assumed a forced hilarity
of manners. He was conspicuous for an obstreperous gayety
at the bar-mess on his circuit, and no man laughed so loudly
or so long as he did ; but when his apparently exuberant
spirits were spoken of, those who knew him well shook their
heads, and hinted that all was not right within. And so it
proved to be. His mind had for years been corroded with
anxieties. His constitution, although naturally vigorous, was
slowly shaken by the sapping of continual care. A mortal
disease at length declared itself, in the increasing gush of blood
from the gums, which he had employed the expedients that I
have mentioned to conceal. Yet even in the hours of advan-
cing dissolution, he could not be induced to absent himself
from court; and the scene which I have been describing was
one of those in which, if I may so say, Momus and Death were
brought into fellowship. He died a short time after the trial
in which I had noted this painful incident.

Tc the last, his love of ludicrous association did not desert
him, A little while before his departure, one of his oldest
friends was standing at his bed-side and bidding him farewell.
During this melancholy parting, a collapse of the jaws took
place, which rendered it necessary to tie a bandage under the

A SKETCH FROM LIFE. 203

chin; and in the performance of the operation, with the blood
still oozing from his mouth, and trickling down the sheets, he
turned his eyes languidly to his friends, and muttered, with a
faint smile, "I never thought to have died chapfallen." This
observation was not the result of insensibility ; quite the re-
verse. "You should have seen him when he spoke it," said
the gentleman who mentioned the circumstance ; " I felt like i
the companion of Yorick's death-bed, who perceived, by a jest, A
that the heart of his friend was broken." It is consolatory to
know, that since his death his property has been turned to
good account, and that his family are placed in independence.

Never to attain to station at the Bar ; to carry the conscious-
ness of high talent; to think that there is a portable treasure
in one's mind, which the attorneys do not condescend to ex-
plore ; to live for years in hope, and to feel the proverbial
sickness of the heart arising from its procrastination — these
are serious ills. But the loss of business, at an advanced /
period of life, is a far greater calamity than never to have/>
attained its possession. Yet a distinction is to be taken:
Those who have been deserted by their business are divisible
into two classes, who are essentially different : the prudent,
who, with the forecast which is so rare a virtue in Ireland, :
have taken advantage of the shining of their fortunes, and, by
a sagacious accumulation, are enabled to encounter the caprices
of public favor; and they who, after a life of profuseness, find
themselves at last abandoned by their clients, without having
preserved the means of respectable support.

The former class suggest a ludicrous, rather than a melan-
choly train of images. The contemplation of a rich man out
of employment affords more matter for merriment than for con-
dolence. To this body of opulent veterans my friend Pomposo
belongs. His success at the Bar was eminent. He possessed,
in a high degree, a facility of fluent and sonorous speech, and
had an imposing and well-rounded elocution, a deep and musi
cal voice, a fine and commanding figure, and a solemn and
didactic countenance. He flourished at a period when a
knowledge of the minute technicalities of the law was not
essential at the Irish Bar. There was a time when an Irish

204: CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.

counsellor was winged to heaven by a bill of exchange, and
drew tears from the jury in an ejectment for non-payment of
rent. In those days Pomposo was in the highest repute; and
such was the demand for him, that the attorneys upon opposite
sides galloped from the assize towns to meet him, and some-
times arriving at the same moment at the open windows of his
carriage, thrust in their brief, and with a shower of bank-notes,
and simultaneously exclaimed that the counsellor belonged to
them. Upon these occasions Pomposo used to throw himself
back in his post-chaise with an air of imperious non-c/ialancc,
and, pocketing the money of both parties, protest that it was
among the calamities of genius to be stopped in the king's
highway, and, drawing up the windows of his carriage, com-
manded the postillion to drive on. This half-yearly triumph
of eloquence through the Munster circuit lasted for a consider-
able time, and Pomposo found himself a rich man. When,
after the enactment of the Union, English habits began to
appear, and the iron age of demurrers and of nonsuits suc-
ceeded to the glorious days of apostrophes and harangues, it
was all over with Pomposo. Still he loved the Four Courts,
and haunted them.

Becoming at last weary of walking the Hall, he took refuge
in the Library attached to the Courts. It was pleasant to
hear him ask, with an air of earnestness, for the oldest and
most unintelligible repertories of black letter, in which he
affected to seek a pastime. Bracton seemed to be his manual,
and Fleta his vade-mecum. I have heard his deep and solemn
voice, which still retained its old rhetorical tones, breaking in
upon the laborious meditations of the young gentlemen who
had recently returned from Butler's or Sugden's* offices, brist-
ling with cases and with points, and who just raised up their
heads and invested their features with a Lincolu's-Inn expres-
sion at any intrusion of a lawyer of the old school into this
repository of erudition. Pomposo, having armed himself with
one of the year-books, took his station tranquilly by the fire,

* Charles Butler was a Catholic, and one of the best special pleaders in
England. — Sugden (now Lord St. Leonards) wrote his great work on Power*
when he was only a year at the bar. — M.

YELVEKTON LAWYERS 205

and after stirring it, and commenting' with liis habitual mag-
niloquence upon the weather, threw open the annals of justice
in the reign of the Edwards, and fell fast asleep. It has been
recorded of him that he has been heard, upon these occasions,
to speak in his slumbers; and while Queen Mab was galloping
on his fingers, he has alternately intermingled the prices of
stocks with adjuration to a Munster jury.

Pomposo still goes the circuit. No man is more punctual in
his attendance at the exact hour of dinner at the Bar-room.
The junior, who is generally fresh from a pleader's office, and
enamored of Nisi Prius upon his first tour, remains in court
until the business is concluded, and thus neglects the official
duty which requires his presence at the Bar-room at five
o'clock. Pomposo and an old friend or two enter together.
Pomposo draws forth his watch, and exclaims, " Ten minutes
past five o'clock, and the junior not yet come !" Having a
taste for music, he beguiles the time with humming some of
those airs for which he was famous in his youth, and goes
through the best portion of the " Beggar's Opera," when six
o'clock strikes. " I protest it is six o'clock, and the junior is
not yet come — 'When the heart of a man,' &c.;" and so
Pomposo continues until seven o'clock, alternately inveighing
against the remissness of modern juniors, and, as Wordsworth
has expressed it,

whistling many a snatch of meny tunes

That have no mirth in them."

The wealth which this very respectable gentleman has ac
cumulated raises him above the sympathy of the Bar. The
other class of barristers without employment falls more imme-
diately under the title with which I have headed this article.
There was a set of men at the Irish Bar who, I think, may be
designated as the " Yelverton school of lawyers." Lord Avon-
more, the Chief Baron of the Exchequer, whose name was
Barry Yelverton, originally belonged to that grade in society
which is within the reach of education, but below that of re-
finement. He never lost the indigenous roughness and asper-
ity of character, which it has been said to be the office of

206 CALAMITIES OF THK BAR.

literature to soften and subdue ; but lie had a noble intellect,
and in the deep rush of his eloquence the imperfections of his
manner were forgotten.

His familiarity with the models of antiquity was great, and
his mind had imbibed much of the spirit of the orators of
Greece and Rome, which he infused into his own powerful dis-
courses. So great was his solicitude to imbue himself with the
style of the eminent writers whom he admired, that he trans-
lated several of their works, without a view to publication.

His talents raised him to the highest place at the Bar, and
his political complaisance lifted him to the Bench. In private
life he possessed many excellent qualities, of which the most
conspicuous was his fidelity in friendship. In his ascent he
raised up the companions of his youth along with him. The
business of the Court of Exchequer was, under his auspices,
divided among a set of choice spirits who had been the boon
companions of his youth, and belonged, as well as himself, to
a jovial fraternity, who designated themselves by the very
characteristic title of " Monks of the Screw."*

* Curran, who like all wits, was an eminently social man, collected around
him, while struggling at the bar, an assemblage of choice spirits, chiefly of his
own profession. Among the members were Henry Flood, Grattan, Father
O'Leary, Lord Charlemont, Judge Day and others who were destined to wear
the ermine, Bowes Daly, Jerry Keller, Lord Avonmore, and others. They
formed a jovial society, meeting during term on every Saturday night (the law-
yer's holyday), under the presidency of Curran, who was Grand Prior of the
Order, and wrote the charter song, of which only the following stanzas have
come down to us : —

" When St. Patrick our Order created,

And called us the Monks of the Screw,
Good rules he revealed to our Abbot,

To guide us in what we should do.
But first he replenished his fountain,

With liquor the best in the sky,
And swore, by the word of his saintship,

That fountain should never run dry.

"My childret ! be chaste — till you're tempted*

While sol er, be wise and discreet,
And humble your bodies with fasting,
Whene'ef — you've got nothing to cot '

MONKS OF THE SCREW. 207

These merry gentlemen encountered a nonsuit with a joke,
and baffled authority with a repartee. A system of avowed /
and convivial favoritism prevailed in the court; and the, C^v^
"facundi calices" which had been quaffed with his lordship, .'•'
were not unnaturally presumed to administer to the inspiration' **' ',..<>
of counsel on the succeeding day. The matins performed in
court were but a prolongation of the vespers which had been
celebrated at the abbot's house; and as long as the head of
the order continued on the Bench, the "Monks of the Screw"
were in vogue; but when the Chief Baron died, their bags
were immediately assailed with atrophy. They lost their busi-
ness, and many of them died in extreme indigence. It may
be readily imagined that their habits were inconsistent with
the "spirit of saving. They were first pitied, then forgotten,
and soon after buried.

Most of these gentlemen flourished and withered before my
time. One of them, however, I do remember, who survived
his companions, and whose natural vitality of spirit, and Dio-
genes turn of philosophy, sustained his energy to the last.
This was Mr. Jeremiah Keller, who was universally known
Ay the more familiar appellation of Jerry Keller in the Courts.*

Then be not a glass in the convent,

Except on festival found ;
And, this rule to enforce, I ordain it —

A festival all the year round."

Some five or six years ago, I met an aged clergyman in London, whom \ rec-
ollect on three accounts: — at the age of 86, he remembered all the cards
played at whist, by whom played, and in what order; he had voted in 1780,
being then twenty-two years old, at the election for Bristol, when one of the
candidates, following Burke, who had made a long speech, briefly and effectively
exclaimed, " I say ditto to Mr. Burke ;" and he had been one of the " Monks of
the Screw." The club, for it was such, was established (he said) when Curran,
a poor man, could not afford the expense of entertaining his boon-companions.
It originally was a sort of pic nic, each man sending in what he pleased, to make
up the feast, the supply being usually so abundant as to supply Curran 's
domestic wants for the ensuing week. Eventually, the monks had rooms of
their own. — M.

* Jerry Keller, as he was always called, was an Irish barrister of immense
talent, whose life was a failure. He used no mean arts (and such were com-
mon in his day) to obtain briefs. He neither flattered seniors nor entertained
attorneys, nor flirted with their wives, nor coquetted with their daughters. He

208 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.

The attorneys could deprive him of his briefs, but could not
rob him of his wit. He was a man

" replete with mocks,

Full of comparisons and wounding flouts."

The loss of business served to whet his satire and give more
poignancy to his biting mirth. He used to attend the Hall
of the Courts with punctuality, and was generally surrounded
by a circle of laughers, whom the love of malicious pleasantry
attracted about him. His figure and demeanor were remark-
able. He never put on his wig and gown, as he scorned the
affectation of employment, but appeared in an old frieze great-
coat of rusty red, which reached to his heels, and enveloped
the whole of his gaunt and meagre person. A small and
pointed hat stood upon his head, with a narrow and short-
curled brim. His arms were generally thrust into the sleeves
of his coat, which gave him a peculiarity of attitude.

Looking at him from a distance, you would have taken him
for some malevolent litigant from the country, upon whose
passions a group of mockers were endeavoring to play ; but,
upon a more attentive perusal of his countenance, you per-
ceived a habit of thought, of a superior order, and the expres-

did not succeed at the bar, as a man so gifted should have succeeded. At last
he limited his ambition to shining at the social board, and there few eclipsed
him. A dull rival, named Mayne, was made a judge ; " There," he was heard
to mutter, like the under-growl of a tempest, " Mayne sits, risen by his grav-
ity, and Keller sunk by his levity: what would Newton say to that /" — He was
witty. He dined, in 1780, at the houge of one Garrett Moore, grocer and whis-
key-vender, in Aungier street, Dublin. When the mirth grew " fast and furi-
ous," an intimation was made that the lady of the house had just been confined.
"Let us adjourn," said his friend. " Certainly," replied Jerry, "pro re natd."
The young stranger, was Thomas Moore, the poet. — An attorney, with a pecu-
liar malformation of hands, explaining an act of parliament, sprawled his de-
formed members over the page. " Here it is," he cried, "here's the clause."
Jerry answered, "you are right, for once — they're more like claws than hands."
When, in 1800, Barry Yelverton was raised from the rank of Baron, to that of
Viscount Avonmore, because he had voted for the Union, he summoned a few
friends to read the draft of the patent. It was worded, " To all to whom
these letters -patent shall come, greeting; We of the United kingdom of Great
Britain and Ireland — " — "Stop!" said Keller, who was one of the party
"the considerQtiQn is set out too early in the deed.'' — M.

209

sion of no ordinary mind. His features were sharp, and
pointed to the finest edge. There was that acuteness of the
nose which denotes the lover of a gibe. His eyes were pier-
cing, clear, and brassy ; they were filled with a deadly irony,
which never left them. A flash of malignant exultation play-
ed over his features when he saw how deeply the shaft had
struck, and with what a tenacity it stuck to his victim. The
quiver of his lip, in giving utterance to some mortal sneer, was
peculiarly comical: he seemed as if he were chewing the
poison before he spat it forth. His teeth gave a short chatter
of ridicule ; you heard a dry laugh, a cachinnus which wrinkled
all his features, and after a sardonic chuckle, he darted forth
the fatal jest, amidst those plaudits for its bitterness which had
become his only consolation.

Jerry Keller, as the senior, presided at the mess of the Mun-
ster bar, and ruled in all the autocracy of unrivalled wit. It
was agreed upon all hands that Jerry should have a carte-
blanche with every man's character, and that none of his sar-
casms, however formidable, should provoke resentment. This
was a necessary stipulation ; for when he had been roused by
those potations, in which, according to a custom which he did
not consider as " honored by the breach," he liberally in-
dulged, there was a Malagrowther savageness in his sarcasm
which made even the most callous shrink. He who laughed
loudest at the thrust which his neighbor had received, was the
next to feel the weapons of this immitigable satirist. To enter
into a struggle with him, was a tempting of God's providence.
You were sure to be pierced in an instant by this accomplished
gladiator, who could never be taken off his guard. Jerry had
been a Catholic, and still retained a lurking reverence for a
herring upon Good Friday. A gentleman of no ordinary pre-
tension,* observing that Jerry abstained from meat on that
sacred day, ventured to observe, " I think, Jerry, you have
still a damned deal of the Pope in your belly." — " If I have,"
said Jerry, " you have a damned deal of the Pretender in your
head."

* Nicholas Purcell O'Gormnn, Secretary to the Catholics for many years, and
fcnpointccl County Jud^p bv T/orrI ^.n^lesey, when Viceroy. — M-

210 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.

I was one day (let not the reader allow himself to be startled
by too sudden a transition from Dublin to Constantinople) — I
was, I recollect, one day, repeating this sarcasm to a gentle-
man who had recently returned from the East, and mentioned

the name of the barrister, Mr. N , to whom it had been

applied ; and I was a good deal surprised, that, instead of
joining in a laugh at the bitterness of the retort, his face as-
sumed a melancholy expression. I asked him the cause of it,
when he told me, that the name which I had just uttered, had
recalled to him a very remarkable and very painful incident
which had happened to him at Constantinople. I begged him
to relate it. " I was one evening," he said, " walking in the
cemeteries of Constantinople. But I have, I believe, written
an account of this adventure in my journal, and had better
read it to you."

He accordingly took a huge book from a drawer, and read
as follows: — "It is not unusual for the inhabitants of the
Asiatic portion of the great capital of Islamism, to walk in the
evening amid the vast repositories of the dead, which are
adjacent to Scutari. Death is little dreaded in the East, while
the remains of the deceased are objects of tenderness and
respect among their surviving kindred. This pious sentiment
being unaccompanied by that dismay with which we are apt to
look upon the grave, attracts the Turks to the vast fields where
their friends and kindred are deposited.

" I proceeded upon a summer evening from Constantinople,
properly so called, to the Asiatic side, and entered the vast
groves of cypresses which mark the residence of the dead. The
evening was brilliant. There was not a breath of wind to
stir the leaves of those dismal trees, which spread on every
side as far as the sight can reach, and, being planted in long
and uniform lines, open vistas of death, and conduct the eye
through long sweeps of sepulchres to the horizon. The dwel-
lings of the dead were filled with the living. The ranges of
cypresses were crowded with Turks, who moved with that slow
and solemn gait which is peculiar to the country. The flowing
and splendid dresses of those majestic infidels, their lofty tur-
bans, of which the image is sculptured upon every monument.

A TURKISH CEMETEKr. 211

their noble demeanor, and their silence and collectedi.ess, by
the union of life and death together, gave an additional solem-
nity to this imposing spectacle. The setting of the sun threw
a mournful splendor upon the foliage of the trees, and lighted
up this forest of death with a funereal glory.

" I leaned against a cypress which grew over a grave en
which roses had been planted. From this spot, full of those
' flower-beds' of graves,' as Mr. Hope* has called them, and
which mothers or sisters had in all likelihood so adorned (it
is the usage in the East to apparel a tomb with these domestic
tokens of endearment), I looked around me. While I was
contemplating 'this patrimony of the heirs to decay,' my
attention was attracted by a man dressed in tattered white, and
with a ragged turban on his head, who stood at a small dis-
tance from me, and, although attired in the dress of the coun-
try, had something of the Frank in his aspect. There was
an air of extreme loneliness and desolation about him. He
leaned with his back to a marble sepulchre, which was raised
by the side of the public road that for miles traverses the
cemeteries. His arms were folded, his head was sunk on his
chest, and his eyes fixed upon the earth. The evening was
far advanced, and, as it grew dark, the crowds who had pre-
viously filled the cemeteries began to disperse.

"As the brightness of the evening passed away, I perceived
that dense and motionless cloud of stagnant vapors, which had
disappeared in the setting sun, but which, Mr. Hope tells us,
for ever hangs over these dreary realms, and is exhaled from
the swelling soil ready to burst with its festering contents. A
chilly sensation stole upon me, and I felt that I was ' set down
in the midst of the valley which was full of bones.' I was
about to depart from this dismal spot, when, looking tpward the
sepulchre where I had observed the solitary figure I have been
describing, I perceived that he was approaching. I was at
first a little startled, and, although my apprehensions passed
away when he addressed me in the English language, my
Burprise, when I looked at him, was not a little increased. He
said, that he conjectured from my Hppearance that I was an

* In "^nastafius,' a Turkish romance, by the late Thomas Hone. — M,

212 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.

Englishman ; aNnd was proceeding to implore, with the faltering
of shame, for the means of sustenance, when I could not avoid
exclaiming, 'Gracious God! can it be?' — 'Alas!' said the
unfortunate man, covering his face with his hands, 'it is too
true. I am Mr. N , of the Irish bar.'"*

The gentleman who read this singular incident from his
journal, was at the time employed in writing a Tour iu the
East, and may have tinged his description of the cemeteries
of Stainboul with some mental colors. But, of the fact of this
interview having taken place in the burial-ground of Constan-
tinople, I have no doubt. It would not be easy to imagine
adventures more disastrous than those of the unhappy Mr.

N . He moved in Dublin in the highest circles, and was

prized for the gracefulness of his manners and the gayety of
his conversation. He became a favorite at the castle, and was
admitted to the private parties at the vice-regal palace. The
late Duchess of Gordon visited Ireland, and was greatly
pleased with his genius for losing at piquet. No person was
preferred by that ingenious dowager to a votary of fortune,
who still continued to worship at a shrine where his prayers
had never been heard. It was rumored that he was every
day plunging himself more deeply into ruin ; still he preserved
his full and ruddy cheek, and his glittering and cheerful eye.
Upon a sudden, however, the crash came, and his embarrass-
ments compelled him to leave the country.

He had one friend, Mr. Croker, of the Admiralty, had known
him when he was himself at the Irish bar, and was diligently
employed in writing those admirable satires, with which I
shall endeavor, upon some future occasion, to make the En-
glish public better acquainted ; for Mr. Croker is not only the
author of " The Battle of Talavera," but likewise of the
"Familiar Epistles," and is thought to have assisted Mr.

* Mr. Norcott was the person here indicated. He was a great favorite with
the Duke of Richmond (who was Viceroy of Ireland from 1807 until 1813), and
sacrificed his bar prospects, which were good, and his talents, which were con-
siderable, to the poor vanity of being a court-favorite. His fortune passed
from him at the card-table — as it often does when the points at short whigf are
fifty guineas each, with " a pony" (or five-and-twenty pounds) on the odd trick.
He perished, a renegade, as described in the sketch. — M.

WILSON CROKER. 21 &

N in the composition of " The Metropolis."* These

very able pasquinades were but the preludes to high under-
takings.

* John Wilson Croker, well known as a politician and author, was born in
1780, educated at Dublin University, and called to the bar in 1802. Accident
threw him into Parliament — for, having been professionally engaged at Down-
patrick election, in 1807, he was returned as member for that borough. Thenco,
until the passing of the Reform Bill, in 1832, he continuously held a seat in
Parliament — five years of that period, for the University of Dublin. In 1809,
when Colonel Wardle brought his charges against the Duke of York (second
son of George III., and Commander-in-Chief of the army), of having permitted
Mary Ann Clarke, his mistress, lo dispose of military and 6ther appointments,
under his patronage, Croker so ably and zealously defended the Duke, as a vol-
unteer, that (though his convicted client had to resign the command of the
army) the post of Secretary of the Admiralty was given him, in gratitude for
the service, and he retained this lucrative office, then worth nearly three thou-
sand pounds sterling a year, until 1830, when he retired, on the break-up of the
Wellington Ministry, on a pension of fifteen hundred pounds a year. Two
years earlier he had been made a Privy Councillor. When the Grey Adminis-
tration brought in and carried their Reform Bill, they were met on every detail
by Croker, who showed a tact, readiness, and even eloquence, joined with
ready wit and sarcasm, for which few had previously given him credit. To use
the language in which Mr. Thackeray described the glorious conduct of the
great Washington, he "fought with a courage worthy of a better cause !" —
Here ended Croker' s political life, for he kept his vow that he would not sit in
a reformed House of Commons. His earlier literary productions, sarcastic and
shrewd, were on local subjects, and had thftir chief celebrity in Dublin, where
their allusions were understood and relished. His first prose work of perma-
nent interest was called " Stories from the History of England," which Scott
took as the model of his own familiar " Talcs of a Grandfather." He has
edited the Suffolk Papers, the Letters of Lady Hervey and her husband, and
Boswell's Life of Johnson. This last, which was crowded with errors amid a
great mass of new and illustrative annotation, drew down a severe critique, in
the " Edinburgh Review," from the pen of Macaulay ; a favor which Croker re-
turned, with interest, on Macaulay's " History of England." This critique
appeared in the " Quarterly Review" established, in 1809, through the combi-
nation of Scott, Canning, Croker, and their friends. Croker, who was admit-
ted to much familiarity with George IV., both as Regent and King, was in
habits of intimacy with the nobility as well as the leading men of letters and
artists on the Tory side. One of his latest criticisms was published in the Quar-
terly Review for July, 1853, on Lord John Russell a " Life, Journals, and .Let-
ters, of Thomas Moore," in which the noble edito~ and the peer-loving "poet
of all circles" were ruthlessly tormented, tomahawked, and scalped. It is an
old and time saying that " those who play at bowls must expect rubbers," and
Mr. Croker has been treated, in this retributive spirit, by Mr. D'Israeli, who

CALAMITIES OF THE

It does Mr. Croker great honor tha', in his emergencies, his
brother barrister and satirist was not forgotten. The honor-
able Secretary promised a lucrative situation for Mr. N • in

the island of Malta. His Irish friends looked forward to the
period when he should be enabled, after recruiting his cir-
cumstances, to return to Ireland, and to reanimate Kildare-
street club-house, with that vivacious pleasantry of which he
was a felicitous master ; when, to everybody's astonishment,
it was announced that Mr. N. had left the island,* had taken
up his residence at Constantinople, and renounced his religion
witli his hat.

He became a renegade, and invested his brows with a tur-
ban. The motives assigned for this proceeding it is not neces-
sary to mention. It is probable that he involved himself a
second time by play, and that he had no other resource than
the expedient of a conversion, through the painful process of
which he heroically went. Having carried some money with
him to Constantinople, he at first made a considerable figure.
He was dressed in the extreme of Turkish fashion, and was
considered to have ingratiated himself by his talents into the
favor of some leading members of the Divan. His prosperity
at Constantinople, however, was evanescent. His money was
soon spent, and he fell rtito distress. Letters of the most
heart rending kind were written to his friends in Dublin, in
which he represented himself as in want of the common means
of subsistence.

It was in this direful state of destitution that he addressed
himself, in the cemeteries of Constantinople, to a person whom
lie guessed to be a native of these countries, and whom he dis-
covered to be his fellow-citizen. His condition was lamentable

has drawn him, in his political novel of " Conyngsby," as the mean, toadying-, and
illiberal Digby. It is understood that, though now [1854] in his seventy-fourth
year, Mr. Croker is editing the works of Alexander Pope. In his editorial as
well as in his critical capacity, Croker avoids anything like a broad view of the
subject, but carefully creeps over it, applying himself to the examination of
minute details. He is never so happy as when he " breaks a butterfly up jn the
wheel." — M.

* Barrington says, " At Malta he soon disgraced himself in a manner which
for ever excluded him from society. — M."

THE RENEGADE'S FATE. 21 5

beyond tlie power of description. His dress was at once tlie
emblem of apostacy and of want. It bung in rags about a
person wbicb, from a robust magnitude of frame, bad shrunk
into miserable diminution. He carried starvation in his
cheeks ; ghastliness and misery overspread his features, and
despair stared in his glazed and sunken eye. He did not long
survive his calamities.

The conclusion of his story may be briefly told. For a
little while he continued to walk through the streets of Con-
stantinople in search of nourishment, and haunted its ceme-
teries like the dogs to which Christians are compared. He
had neither food, roof, nor raiment. At length he took the
desperate resolution of relapsing into Christianity; for he
indulged in the hope, that, if he could return to his former
faith, and effect his escape from Constantinople, although he
could not appear in these countries again, yet, on the conti-
nent, he might obtain at least the means of life from the
friends, who, although they could not forgive his errors, might
take compassion upon his distress. He accordingly endeav-
ored to fly from Constantinople, and induced some Englishmen
who happened to be there, to furnish money enough to effect
his escape. But the plot was discovered. He was pursued,
and taken at a small distance from Constantinople; his head
was struck off upon the beach of the Bosphorus, and his body
thrown into the sea.

THOMAS LEFROY.

THERE is something apparently irreconcilable between the
ambition and avidity which are almost inseparable from the
propensities of a successful lawyer, and any very genuine en-
thusiasm in religion. The intense worldliness of his profession
must produce upon his character and faculties equally tangi-
ble results,; and if it has the effect of communicating a minute
astuteness to the one, it is not very likely to impart a spirit of
lofty abstraction to the other. I can not readily conceive any-
thing more sublunary than the bar. Its occupations allow no
respite to the mind, and refuse it all leave to indulge in the
aspirations which a high tendency to religion not only gener-
erates, but requires. They will not even permit any native
disposition to enthusiasm to branch aloft, but fetter it to the
earth, and constrain it to grow down. How can the mind of a
lawyer, eddying as it is with such fluctuating interests, receive
upon its shifting and troubled surface those noble images which
can never be reflected except in the sequestered calm of deep
and unruffled thought ? He whose spirit carries on a continued
commerce with the skies, is not only ill adapted to the ordinary
business of society, but is scarcely conscious of it. He can
with difficulty perceive what is going on at such a distance
below him; and if he should ever divert his eyes from the
contemplation of the bright and eternal objects upon which
they are habitually fixed, it is but to compassionate those whom
he beholds engaged in the pursuit of the idle and fantastic
fires that mislead us in our passage through " this valley of
tears."

To such a man, the ordinary ends of human desire must ap-

fits SAINTLY CHAfcACTttft.

pear to be utterly preposterous and inane. The reputation which
Romilly has left behind must sound as idle in his ears as the
wind that shakes the thistle upon his grave. An ardent reli-
gionist must shrink from those offices which a lawyer would
designate as the duties, and which are among the necessary
incidents, of his profession. To play for a little of that worth-
less dross, which is but a modification of the same material
upon which he must at last lie low, all the multiform variety
, of personation which it is the business of a lawyer to assume —
to barter his anger and his tears — to put in mirth or sorrow,
as it suits the purpose of every man who can purchase the
mercenary joke or the stipendiary lamentation — these appear
to be offices for which an enthusiastic Christian is not eminently
qualified. Still less would he be disposed to misquote and to
misrecite — to warp the facts, and to throw dust into the eyes
of justice — to enter into an artificial sympathy with baseness
— to make prostitutes of his faculties, and surrender them in
such an uncompromising subserviency to the passions of his
client, as to make them the indiscriminate utensils of de-
pravity.

How fallacious is all speculation when unillustrated by ex-
ample, and how rapidly these misty conjectures disappear, ,
before the warm and conspicuous piety of the learned gentle-
man whose name is prefixed to this number of the " Sketches \
of the Irish Bar." This eminent practitioner, who has rivals >;
in capacity, but is without a competitor in religion, refutes all
this injurious surmise ; and in answer to mere inference and ;
theory, the sainted fraternity among whom he plays so remark-
able a part, and who with emulative admiration behold him
uniting in his person the good things of the Old Testament,
with the less earthly benedictions of the New, may triumph-
antly appeal to the virtues and to the opulence of Mr. Sergeant
LEFROY.

The person who has accomplished this exemplary reconcili-
ation between characters so opposite in appearance as a de-
voted follower of the gospel and a wily disputant at the bar,
stands in great prominence in the Four Courts, but is still
more noted among " the saints" in Dublin, and I think may be

VOL. I. — 10

THOMAS

accounted tlieir leader. These are an influential and rapidly-
increasing body, winch is not wholly separated from the church,
but is appended to it by a very loose and slender tie. They
maybe designated as the Jansenists of the establishment; for
in their doctrines of grace and of election they border very
closely upon the professors of the Port-Royal. For men who
hold in such indifference the pleasures of the world, they are
singularly surrounded with its fugacious enjoyments. Encom
passed with innocuous luxuries and innocent voluptuousness
they felicitously contrast their external wealth with that mor-
tification of the spirit of which they make so lavish a profes-
sion, and of which none but an irreclaimable skeptic could
entertain a doubt.

At the bar they are to be found in considerable strength,
and are distinguished among their brethren for their zeal in
the advancement of the interests of religion and their own.
They are, in general, sedulous and well-informed — competent
to the discharge of ordinary business, and free of all ambition
of display — a little uncandid in their practice, and careless of
the means by which success is to be attained — pursuivants of
authority and followers of the great — gentlemanlike in their
demeanor, but not without that touch of arrogance toward their
inferiors which is an almost uniform attendant upon an over-
anxious deference -to power — strong adherents to abstract
principles of propriety, and vehement inculcators of the eternal
rules of right, but at the same time not prodigally prone to any
Samaritan sensibilities — amiable in their homes, and some-
what selfish out of them- — fluent reciters of the Scriptures —
conspicuously decent in their manners, and entirely regardless
^f the apple-wenches in the Hall.

The great prototype of this meritorious fraternity is Mr. Ser-
geant Lefroy. It would do good to the heart of the learned
member for Galway to visit his stables on a Sunday. The
generous animals who inhabit these exemplary tenements, par-
ticipate in his relaxations, and fulfil with scriptural exactness
the sacred injunction of repose. Smooth as their benevolent
master, they stand in their stalls amid all the luxury of grain,
and, from their sobriety and sleekness, might readily be recog-

A GOD-FEARING LAWYEfc.

nisecl as the steeds of a prosperous and pious man. It is one
of the Sergeant's favorite canons that the lower orders of the
animal creation should join in the celebration of the seventh
day, and contribute the offering of their involuntary homage.
Loosened himself from the rich wain of his profession, he ex-
tends a similar indulgence to the gentle quadrupeds, who are
relieved on that day from the easy obligation of drawing one
of the handsomest equipages in Dublin, to which, in all proba-
bility, the chariots of the primitive Christians did not bear a
very exact resemblance.

If you should chance on Sunday to walk near the Asylum
(a chapel in Leeson street, which, from the number of sancti-
monious lawyers who inhabit it, is called " Swaddling bar"),
you will see the learned Sergeant proceeding to this favored
domicil of worship, near which he resides without any verifi-
cation of the proverb, with a huge bible bound in red morocco
under his arm. It is a truly edifying spectacle. A halo of
piety is diffused about him. His cheeks, so far from being
worn out by the vigils of his profession, or suffused with the
evaporations of the midnight lamp, are bright, shining, and
vermilioned. There is a gloss of sanctity upon them, which is
happily contrasted with the care-colored visages of the profane.
A serious contentedness is observable in his aspect, which in-
dicates a mind on the best footing with Heaven and with itself.

There is an evangelical neatness in his attire. His neck-
cloth is closely tied, and knotted with a simple precision. His
suit of sables, in the formality of its outline, bears attestation
to the stitches of some inspired tailor who alternately cuts out
a religion and a coat; his hose are of gray silk; his shoes are
burnished with a mysterious polish, black as the lustre of his
favorite Tertullian. As he passes to the house of worship, he
attracts the pious notice of the devouter fair who flock to the
windows to behold him ; but, heedless of their perilous admi-
ration, he advances without any indulgence of human vanity,
and joins the convocation of the elect. There his devotion ex-
hales itself in enraptured evaporations, which nothing but the
recognition of some eminent solicitor in the adjoining pew can
interrupt. The service being over, he proceeds to fill up the

220 THOMAS

residue of the clay with acts of religious merit, and, as I liav«
heard, with deeds of genuine humanity and worth.

With him, I really believe that upon a day which he sets
apart from worldly occupation, witli perhaps too much Puritan
exactness, " works of mercy are a part of rest." While I ven-
ture to indulge in a little ridicule of his Sabbatarian precision,
which is not wholly free from that sort of pedantry which is
observable in religion as well as in learning, I should regret to
withhold from him the encomium which he really deserves.
It has been whispered; it is true, that his compassion is, in a
great degree, instigated by his theological predilections, and
that it has as much of sectarianism as of philanthropy. But
humanity, however modified, is still humanity. If, in leaving
the chamber of suffering and of sorrow, he marks with a bank-
note the leaf of the Bible which he has been reading at the
bedside of some poorer saint, let there be given to his benevo-
lence, restricted as it may be by his peculiar propensities in
belief, a cordial praise. The sphere of charity must needs be
limited ; and of his own money, it is a clear truism to say, he
is entitled to dispose as he thinks proper. With respect to the
public money, the case is different; and upon the distribution
of a fund of which he and certain other gentlemen of his pro-
fession are the trustees (so at least they have made themselves),
there appears less right to exercise a summary discretion. I
allude to the Kildare-street Association, of which he is one of
the principal members.

The street from which this association has derived its name
has brought the extremes in morals into a close conjunction.
The Pharisees of Dublin have posted themselves in a most
Sadducean vicinage, for their meetings are held beside the
most fashionnble gaming-club* in Ireland. Loud indeed and
long are the oratorical ejaculations which issue from the as-
semblies held under the peculiar auspices of the illuminated
associates of the long robe. Here they hold out a useful exam-
ple of prudence as well as of zeal, and indulge their generous
propensities at little cost.

They receive, by parliamentary grant, an annual sum of six

* Daly's Club-House.— M

EDUCATION IN IEKLAND. 221

thousand pounds for the education of the poor;* and by a pro-
digious stretch of individual beneficence, a hundred guineas
are added through a private subscription among the elect. In
the allocation of this fund, they have established rules which
are entirely at variance with the ends for which the grant has
been made by Parliament. They require that the Bible should
be read in every school to which assistance is given. With
this condition the Roman Catholic clergy (and the chief among
the Protestant hierarch} concur in their opposition) have re-
fused to comply. The indiscriminate perusal of the Scriptures,
unaccompanied by any comment illustrative of the peculiar
sense in which they are explained by the Roman Catholic
church, seems to be inconsistent with the principles in which
that church is founded. The divines of Kildare street have,
however, undertaken the difficult task of demonstrating to this
obstinate and refractory priesthood that they understood the
tenets and spirit of their religion much better than any doctor
at Maynooth.f A consequent acrimony has arisen betAveen
the parties, and the result has been that the few channels of
education which exist in the country are denied all supply
from a source which has been thus arbitrarily shut up.

It is lamentable that, in the enforcement of these fanatical
enactments, so much petty vindictiveness and theological acer-
bity should be displayed. The assemblies held at Kildare
street, with the ostensible view of advancing the progress of
intelligence among the lower classes, exhibit many of the qual-
ities of sectarian virulence in their most ludicrous shape. A
few individuals who presume to dissent from the august authori-
ties who preside at these meetings, occasionally venture to
enter their public protest against both the right and the pro-
priety of imposing a virtually impracticable condition upon the
allocation of the parliamentary fund. Lord Cloncurry implores
them, with an honest frankness, to abandon their proselytizing

* This grant has been withdrawn for some years, and what is called the Na
tional has superseded the Kildare-street system of education. — M.

t The Roman Catholic College of Maynooth, endowed by Parliament, for the
education of young men destined for the Church. They previously had to go
(O France or Italy for thai purpose. — ]Vf,

222 THOMAS LKFEOY.

speculation. O'Connell, too, who " like a French falcon flies
at everything he sees," comes panting from the Four Courts,
and gives them a speech straight. The effects produced upon
the auditory, which is compounded of very different materials
from the meetings which the counsellor is in the habit of ad-
dressing with so much success, are not a little singular.

Of the ingredients of this assembly it may not be amiss to
gay a few words. Aware of his purpose, the Saints employ
themselves for some days before in congregating all those who
hold his politics and his creed in their most special abhorrence.
They accordingly collect a very motley convocation. In the
background are posted a strong phalanx of the ragged and
ferocious votaries of Mr. Cooper.* These persons belong to
the lower classes of Protestants, of whose religion it would not
be easy to give any more definite description than that they
regard the Plunket-street orator as on a very close footing with
the Divinity, and entertain shrewd doubts whether he be not
the prophet Enoch himself. Adjoining to this detachment,
which is posted as- a kind of corps de reserve, whose aid is to be
resorted to upon a case of special emergency, the Evangelicals
of York street are drawn up. Next come a chosen band of
Quakers and Quakeresses; and lastly are arrayed the Saints,
more properly so called, with the learned Sergeant and divers
oily-tongued barristers at their head. The latter are judi-
ciously dispersed among the pretty enthusiasts who occupy the
front benches, and whisper a compliment in the ear of some
soft-eyed votary, who bears the seal of grace upon her smooth
and ivory brow.

It may not be inappropriate to observe, that among the
softer sex the Saints have made very considerable way. The
cold worship of the establishment is readily abandoned for the
more impassioned adoration which corrects the lameness and
frigidity of the constituted creed. The latter is, indeed, a kind
of Catholicism cut down ; it is popery without enthusiasm ;
and to remedy its want of stimulus, an exciting system has
been devised, the practices and tenets of which are endowed

* An " unco pious" pillar of the Protestant ascendency party in Dublin i*
J828, when this paper was vritten. — M.

OCONNELL ON THE BIBLE.

with a peculiar pungency. The Kildare street meetings are
attended by some of the prettiest women in Dublin ; and I
should say, in justice to these tender devotees, that they ap-
pear there with a peculiar interest. There is a studied mod-
esty in their attire that only excites the imaginations which it
purposes to repress.

In this scene, thus strangely compounded, it is pleasant to
see the Popish agitator engaged in a wrestle with the passions
and antipathies of his hearers. The moment he rises, an ob-
scure murmur, or rather growl, is heard iii the more distant
parts of the room. This discourteous sound proceeds from the
Cooperites, who find it difficult to restrain themselves from any
stronger expression of abhorrence toward this poisoned scioik
of St. Omer's.* The politer portion of the audience interfere,
and the learned Sergeant entreats that he may be heard.

O'Oonnell proceeds, and professes as. strong and unaffected
a veneration for the Holy Writings as any of them can enter-
tain ; but at the same time begs to insinuate, that the Bible is
not only the repository of Divine truths, but the record of
human depravity, and that, as a narrative, it comprehends
examples of atrocity, with the detail of which it is, perhaps,
injudicious that youth and innocence should become familiar
Are crimes which rebel against nature, the fit theme of domes- ;
tic contemplation? and .are not facts set forth in the Old
Testament, from the very knowledge of which every father
should desire to secure his child ? If he were desperate enough
to open the Holy Writings in that very assembly, and to read
aloud the examples of guilt which they commemorate, the face
of every woman would turn to scarlet, and the hand of every
man would be lifted up in wrath : and are the pages which
reveal the darkest depths of depravity fitted for the specula-
tions of boyhood and the virgin's meditations? Will not the
question be asked, What does all this mean ? and is it right
that such a question should be put, to which such an answer
may be given 1 The field of conjecture ought not to be opened

* O'Connell, it should be borne in mind, was originally intended for the
oriesthood, and received his early educatfon at the college of St Omer, iij
France. — 3\J,

224 THOMAS LEFROT.

to those whose innocence and whose ignorance are so closely
allied. Sacred as the tree of knowledge may appear, and
although it grow beside that of life, its fruits are full of bitter-
ness and death.

Mr. O'Connell then insists that the Scriptures ought not to
be forced into circulation, and that a bounty should not be put
upon their dispersion among the shoeless, noseless, shirtless,
and houseless peasantry of Ireland. Give them work and food
instead of theology. Are they capable of comprehending the
dark and mysterious intimations of St. Paul, or St. John's
Revelation ? Would not the Apocalypse bother the learned
Sergeant himself? and have not his poor countrymen enough
to endure, and are they not sufficiently disposed to quarrel,
without the additional incentive of polemics? Is it in a ditch
school that his learned friend -conceives that the mysteries of
the Trinity, of the Incarnation, and not more embarrassing
Sacrament, are to be discussed 1

Kindling as he advances, the great demagogue throws him-
self into other topics, and charges his pious friends with a
violation of their duty to the public, in the arbitrary imposition
of conditions against which every Roman Catholic exclaims.
He disputes their right to exercise a compulsion founded on
their own fantasies in the execution of a solemn trust, and at
last roundly insinuates that proselytism must be their object.

At this a mighty uproar ensues. The holy rabble in the
distance send up a tremendous shout : their Bibles are brand-
ished— their eyes gleam with a more deadly fire — and their
faces become more formidably grim: — a thrill of indignation
runs through the whole assembly — the spirit of Obadiah himself
is moved within him, and even the ladies allow the fierce infec-
tion to make its way into their gentle and forbearing breasts.
A universal sibilation is heard — mouths that pout and mince
their orisons with Madonna sweetness are suddenly distorted
— a hiss issues from the lips of roses, and intimates the venom
that lurks beneath. O'Connell struggles hard and long, but he
is at length fairly shouted down,

In the midst of this stormy confusion, the learned Sergeant
appears, and the moment his tall and slender person is pre-

AT A KILDARE STREET MEETING. 225

Ben ted to tlieir notice, a deep and reverential silence pervades
the meeting. The previous tumult is followed by attention

" Still as night, or summer's noontide air" —

the ladies resume their suavity, and look angelical again ; and
the men chuckle at his anticipated triumphs over the far-famed
missionary of Antichrist.

To pursue their champion through his victorious reply would
swell my pages beyond tlieir fitting compass ; suffice it to say,
that he satisfactorily demonstrates the propriety of teaching the
alphabet from the Prophecies, and turning the Apocalypse into
a primer. He points out the manifold advantages of familiar-
izing the youthful mind with the history of the Jews. The
applauses of his auditors, and his own heated conviction (for
he is quite sincere), inflame him into emotions which bear a
resemblance to eloquence, and raise his language beyond its
ordinary tone. The feelings nearest to his heart ascend to his
mind, and communicate their effervescence. His phrase is
struck with the stamp of passion. His eye becomes ennobled
with better thought; he shuffles off for a moment the coil of
his forensic habitudes. The universal diffusion of Christian
truth fills him with enthusiasm. He beholds the downfall of
Popery in the opening dimness of time. Every chapel is
touched by that harlequin the fancy into a conventicle. The
mass bells are cracked, and the pots of lustral water are shat-
tered. A millennium of Methodism succeeds. A new Jerusa-
lem arises. The Jews are converted (a favorite project with
the Sergeant, who holds an annual meeting for the purpose) ;
all Monmouth street is illuminated ; its tattered robes are
turned into mantles of glory. The temple is rebuilt upon an
exact model of the Four-Courts. The Harlot of Babylon is
stripped stark-naked, and the cardinals are given over to Sir
Harcourt Lees. At length the vision becomes too radiant
for endurance. A third heaven opens upon him, and he sinks
exhausted by his enjoyments, and perspiring with ecstasy,
amid the transports of auditors to whom he imparts a rapture
almost equal to his own.

Let me conduct the reader from Kildare street to the Court
10*

226 THOMAS LEFKOY.

of Chancery. Here an utter transformation takes place in the
person of the learned Sergeant, which almost brings his iden-
tity into doubt. Instead of eyes alternately veiled in the
humility of their long and downcast lashes, or lifted up in
visionary devotion, you behold them fixed upon the Chan-
cellor, and watching with a subtle intensity all the sliiftings
of expression with which the judicial countenance intimates
its approval or dissent. The whole face of the vigilant and
wily pleader is overspread with craft. There is a lurking of
design in every feature of his sharp and elongated visage.
You will not perceive any nice play of the muscles, or shad-
owings of sentiment in his physiognomy ; it is fixed, hard,
and imperturbable. His deportment is in keeping with his
countenance. He scarcely ever stands perfectly erect, and
there is nothing upright or open in his bearing. His shoulders
are contracted, and drawn in ; and the body is bent, while the
neck is protruded. No rapidity of gesture, or suddenness of
movement, indicates the unanticipated startings-up of thought.
The arm is never braced in the strenuous confidence of vigor-
ous enforcement, with which Plunket hurls the truth at the
Bench ; but the long and taper fingers just tip the green table
on which they are laid with a peculiar lightness. In this atti-
tude, in which he looks a sophism personified, he applies his
talents and erudition to the sustainment of the most question-
able case, with as much alacrity as if weeping Innocence and
virtuous Misfortune clung to him for support.

The doubtful merits of his client seem to give a new stim-
ulus to his abilities; and if some obsolete form can be raised
from oblivion, if some preposterous precedent can be found in
the mass of antiquated decisions under which all reason and
justice are entombed ; or if some petty flaw can be found in
the pleadings of his adversary, which is sure to be detected
by his minute and microscopic eye, wo to the widow and the
orphan ! The Chancellor [Manners] is called upon to decide
in conformity with some old monastic doctrine. The pious
Sergeant presses him upon every side. He surrounds him
with a horde of barbarous authorities ; and giving no quarter
to common sense, and having beaten equity down, and laid

AS AN ADVOCATE. 227

simple honesty prostrate, lie sets up tlie factious demurrer and
the malicious plea in trophy upon their ruins. Every expe-
dient is called into aid : facts are perverted, precedents are
tortured, positions unheard hefore are laid down as sacred
canons ; and, in order to effect the utter wreck of the opposite
party, deceitful lights are held up as the great heacons of
legal truth. In short, one who had previously seen the
learned Sergeant for the first time in a Bible Society, would
hardly believe him to be the same, but would almost be in-
clined to suspect that it was the genius of Chicane, which had
invested itself with an angelic aspect, and, for the purpose of
more effectually accomplishing its pernicious ends, had as-
sumed the celestial guise of Mr. Sergeant Lefroy.

Let me not be considered as casting an imputation upon this
able, and, I believe, amiable man. In the exhibition of so
much professional dexterity and zeal, he does no more than
what every advocate will regard as his duty. I am only
indulging in some surprise at the promptness and facility of
his transition from the religious to the forensic mood ; and at
the success with which he divests himself of that moral squeam-
ishness, which one would suppose to be incidental to his intel-
lectual habits. Looking at him as an advocate, he deserves
great encomium. In industry he is not surpassed by any mem-
ber of his profession.

It was his good fortune that, soon after he had been called
to the bar, Lord Redesdale should have been Lord Chancellor.*

* Lord Redesdale, born in August, 1748, was an excellent Chancellor — dear
minded, straight- forward, learned, and patient. His name was John Freeman
Mitford, and he was English by birth. He was educated at Oxford, studied
the law, and became an eminent chancery pleader, after he was called to the
bar. Ho wrote a book on Chancery Pleadings, which went through several
editions. In 1790, he was made a Welsh judge (an office now abolished) and
was knighted in 1793, when he was appointed Solicitor-General. He had to
appear against Mr. Hardy, tried on a charge of high treason, and his opening
speech was distinguished by moderation, good taste, and acuteness. In 1799.
he succeeded Scott (Lord Eldon) as Attorney-General. He had been in Par-
liament since 1785, and, in 1801, was elected Speaker, the first and highest of-
fice a Commoner can hold in England. In^ 1802, on being Appointed Lord
Chancellor of Ireland, he was raised to the peerage, as Lord Redes lale. When
Grenville and Fox formed their Coalition Ministry, in 1806, he was compelled tv

228 THOMAS LEFROY.

That great lawyer introduced a reformation in Irish practice.
He substituted great learning, unwearied diligence, and a
spirit of scientific discussion, for the flippant apothegms and
irritable self-sufficiency of the late Lord Clare. He enter-
tained an honorable passion for the study, as well as for the
profits of his profession ; and, not satisfied with pronouncing
judgments which adjusted the rights of the immediate parties,
he disclosed the foundations of his decisions, and, opening the
deep ground-work of equity, revealed the principles upon which
the whole edifice is established.

The value of these essays delivered from the Bench was
well appreciated by Mr. Lefroy, who, in conjunction with Mr.
Schoales, engaged in the reports Avhich bear their names, and
which are justly held in so much esteem. Soon after their
publication, Mr. Lefroy rose into business, for which he was in
every way qualified. He was much favored by Lord Redes-
dale, and now enjoys the warm friendship of Lord Manners
[1823], for whom he acts as confidential counsel.* His great
familiarity with cases, and a spirit of peculiar deference to his
Lordship, combined with eminent capacity, have secured for
him a large portion of the judicial partialities. He is in
the fullest practice, and, taking his private and professional
income into account, may be well regarded as the wealthiest

resign, for, on taking leave of the bar, he said that " he had hoped to have ended
his days in Ireland, but was not permitted. His consent to depart from Eng-
land was yielded at the wish of some who now concurred in his removal • this
he owned, he did not expect." On his return to England, he strongly opp >"d
the ministry, particularly on Lord Grenville's motion for Catholic Emanc.pa-
tion. His future political course was anti-liberal. In Committees of Appeal,
in the Lords, his opinion had great weight. He originated the humane meas-
ure for the relief of insolvent debtors. His death took place, on the 16th Jan
uary, 1830. His only son, the present Lord Redesdale, is Chairman of Com-
mittees in the House of Lords, with a salary of four thousand pounds sterling
a year, and also Deputy-Speaker of that house. His previous qualifications
appear to have been — that he kept a pack of hounds ! — M.

* In England and Ireland it is not uncommon for a Judge to employ a bar-
rister in whom he has confidence, to assist him in looking up the law in diffi-
cult cases. The person employed is called the Judge's " Devil,.'* The "law
officers of the Crown have like assistance, and the barristers who work for then
reap a rich harvest, by being usually employed as junior counsel in the ca«e»
in "vhich their superiors receive retainers and bold briefs. — M.

AGRARIAN

man at tlie Irish bar. His great fortune, however, has not had
the effect of impairing in him the spirit of acquisition. He
exhibits, indeed, as acute a.perception of pecuniary excitement
as any of his less devout brethren of the coif.

Sergeant Lefroy will, in all likelihot i, be shortly raised to
the Bench.* He has already officiated upon one occasion as
a judge of assize, in consequence of the illness of some of the
regular judges, and gone the Munster circuit. His opinions
and demeanor in this capacity are not undeserving of men-
tion : they have attracted much attention in Ireland, and in
England have not escaped observation. Armed with the
king's commission, he arrived in Limerick in the midst of those
dreadful scenes, to which no country in Europe affords a
parallel.! All the mounds of civil institutions appeared to
have been carried away by the dark and overwhelming tide,
which was running with a tremendous current, and swelling
every day into a more portentous magnitude. Social order
seemed to be at an end. A wild and furious population, barba-
rized by a heartless and almost equally savage gentry, had
burst through the bonds by which its madness had been
hitherto restrained, and rushed into an insurrection, in which
the animosities of a civil were blended with the ferocity of a
servile war. Revenge and hunger employed their united
excitations in working up this formidable insanity. Reckless
of the loss of an existence which afforded them no enjoyment,
the infuriated victims of the landlord and the tithe-proctor
extended to the lives of others the same estimate which they
set upon their own ; and their appreciation of the value of
human breath was illustrated in the daily assassinations, which
were devised with the guile, and perpetrated with the fury, of
an Indian tribe. The whole country smoked with the traces
of devastation — blood was shed at noon upon the public way
— and crimes even more dreadful than murder made every
parent tremble.

* He is now [1854], Chief-Justice of the Queen's Bench, having been ap-
pointed in 1852, when Mr. Blackburne was made Chancellor. — M»

t The agrarian disturbances of 1821, chiefly arising out of the demands on
the Catholics for tithes, to support the rich Protestant Church — M,

THOMAS LEFROt.

Such was the situation of tlie county of Limerick, when the
learned Sergeant arrived to administer a remedy for these
frightful evils. The calendar presented almost all the possi-
ble varieties which guilt could assume, and might be desig-
nated as a hideous miscellany of crime. The court-house
exhibited an appalling spectacle. A deep and awful silence
hung heavily upon it, and the consciousness that lay upon
every man's heart, of the frightful crisis to which the county
seemed rapidly advancing, bound up the very breath of the
assembly in a fearful hush. The wretched men in the dock
stood before the judicial novice in a heedless certainty of their
fate. A desperate independence of their destiny seemed to
dilate their broad and expanded chests, and their powerful
faces gave a gloomy token of their sullen indifference to death.
Their confederates in guilt stood around them with much
stronger intimations of anxiety in their looks, and, as they
eyed their fellow-conspirators in the dock, seemed to mutter a
vow of vengeance for every hair that should be touched upon
their heads. The gentry of the county stood in the galleries
with a kind of confession in their aspect, that they had them-
selves been participant in the production of the crimes which
they were collected to punish, but which they knew that they
could not repress.

In this assembly, so silent that the unsheathing of a stiletto
might have been heard amidst its hush, the learned Sergeant
rose, and called for the piece of parchment in which an indict-
ment had been written. It was duly presented to him by the
clerk of the crown. Lifting up the legal scroll, he paused for
a moment, and said : " Behold ! in this parchment writing, the
causes of all the misery with which the Lord has afflicted this
unhappy island are expressed. Here is the whole mystery
of guilt manifestly revealed. All, all is intimated in the in-
dictment. Unhappy men, you have not the fear of God be-
fore your eyes, and you are moved by the instigations of the
Devil." This address went beyond all expectation — the
wretches in the dock gazed upon their sacred monitor with a
scowling stare — the Bar tipped each other the wink — the
parsons thought that this was a palpable interference with my

CAPTAIN ROCK.

lord the bishop — the O'Gradys thrust their tongues into their
cheeks, and O'Connell cried out, "Leather!"

I have no room to transcribe the rest of this remarkable
charge. It corresponded with the specimen already given,
and verified the reference to the fabulist. So, indeed, does
every charge delivered from the Irish Bench. Each man in-
dulges in his peculiar propensities. Shed blood enough, cries
old Renault.* Be just, be humane, be merciful, says Bushe.
While the learned Sergeant charges a confederacy between
Beelzebub and Captain Rock, imputes the atrocities of the
South to an immediate diabolical interposition, and lays at the
Devil's door all the calamities of Ireland.

* This mild-tempered gentleman may be remembered as one of tl e charac-
ter* in Otvay's very tragic tragedy of " Venice Preserved." — M.

THOMAS GOOLD.

THE French Revolution had scarcely burst upon the world,
and its portentous incidents were still the daily subject of
universal astonishment or dismay, when there arose in the
metropolis of Ireland a young gentleman, who, feeling jealous
or the unrivalled importance which the Continental phenome-
non was enjoying, resolved to s4art in his own person as an op-
position-wonder. He had some of the qualifications and all the
ambitious self-dependence befitting so arduous a project. Na-
ture and fortune had been extremely kind to him. He was
of a respectable and wealthy family. . His face was handsome ;
his person small, but symmetrical and elastic, and peculiarly
adapted to the performance of certain bodily feats which he
subsequently achieved.

As to his general endowments, he was, upon his own show-
ing, a fac-simile of the admirable Crichton. He announced
himself as an adept in every known department of human
learning, from the prophetic revelations of judicial astrology,
and the more obsolete mysteries of magic lore, up to the light-
est productions of the amatory muse of France. He professed
to speak every language (except the Irish) as fluently and
correctly as if he had been a native born. He played, sung,
danced, fenced, and rode, with more skill and spirit than the
masters of those respective arts who had presumed to teach
him. He had a deep sense of the value of so many combined
perfections, and acted under the persuasion that he was called
upon to amaze the world.

His friends, who had perceived that beneath his incompre-
hensible aspirations there lurked the elements of a clever man,

SOWING HIS WILD OAfS.

recommended the Bar as a profession in which, with indus-
try, and his c£10,000, for he inherited about as much, and a
rising religion, for he was a Protestant, he might fairly hope
to gratify their ambition, if not his own. He assented ; and
submitted to pass through the preliminary forms — rather,
however, under the idea, that at some future period it might
suit his views to accept the chancellorship of Ireland, than
with any immediate intention of squandering his youthful en-
ergies upon so inglorious a vocation. He felt that he Avas des-
tined for higher tilings, and proceeded to assert his claims.
He never appeared abroad but in a costly suit of the most per-
suasive cut, and glowing with bright and various tints. He
set up an imposing phaeton, in which with Kitty Cut- a dash,
of fascinating memory, and then the reigning illegitimate belle
of Dublin, by his side, he scoured through streets and squares
with the brilliancy and rapidity of an optical illusion. He en-
tertained his friends, the choicest spirits about town, with din-
ners, such as bachelor never gave before — dishes so satisfy-
ing and scientific, as to fill not only the stomach, but the mind
— claret, such as few even of the Irish bishops could procure,
and champaigne of vivacity exampled only by his own. He
furnished his stable with a stud of racers; and, if I am rightly
informed, he still, half-laughing, half-wondering at his former
self, recalls the times when mounted upon a favorite thorough-
bred, and flaming in a pink-satin jockey-dress, he distanced
every competitor, and bore away the Curragh cup.*

I have spoken of his dancing. Tradition asserts that it was
not confined to ball-rooms. I am told that at the private theatre
in Fishamble-street, a place in those days of much fashion-
able resort, he was known to slide in between the acts, in the
costume of a Savoy peasant, and throw off a pas seul in a style
of original dexterity and grace, which, to use an Irish descrip-
tive phrase, " elicited explosions of applause from the men, and
ecstatic ebullitions of admiration from the ladies." He was
equally remarkable for his excellence in the other manly ex-

* The principal races in Ireland take place upon the Curragh of Kildare
at onco an equivalent for Doncaster and Newmarket, Epsom and Ascot, with
Stoodwood and — the rest. — M.

234 -rHoMAS GOOLfc.

ercises. He thought nothing of vaulting over four horses
standing abreast. He was paramount at foot-ball; and aston
ished and won wagers from the Bishop of Deny himself (the
noted Lord Bristol),* who was supposed to be the keenest judge
in Ireland of what the toe of man could achieve.

Before assuming the forensic robe, our aspirant for renown
set out upon a Continental tour; and according to his subse-
quent report, although he travelled in strict incognito, gathered
fresh glory at every post-town through which he was whirled
along. After a considerable stay at Paris, where, however,
he arrived too late to stop the revolutionary torrent, he
passed on and visited several of the German courts — gave
" travelling opinions" upon the course of policy to be respec-
tively pursued by them at that critical juncture, and after-
ward satisfied himself that the most important events that
followed were mainly influenced by his timely interposition.
He left Germany with some precipitation. The rumor ran
that there were state-reasons for his departure. The subject
was too delicate to be revealed in all its circumstances, but
upon his return to Ireland his friends heard in broken senten-
ces of a certain Palatine princess — the dogged jealousy of

* The Earl of Bristol, who was also Bishop of Deny (the income of which '
was twenty thousand pounds sterling a year, at that time), was a very strange
character. He was born in 1730, and died in 1803 — having spent the last
years of his life in Italy, quite unmindful of his episcopal duties to his diocese
— but sacredly receiving its immense revenue. He bitterly opposed the
Union, and went down to the House of Lords, in a coach drawn by eight
horses, to vote against it. He was son of the Lord Hervey (Keeper of the
Privy Seal, in 1740), to whom, thinking highly of hfs intellect and learning,
Bishop Middleton dedicated his " History of the Life of Cicero," while on the
other hand, he comes down to us, as the Sporus of Pope's severe Satire, in
which his character is thus limned: —

" Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way ;
Whether in florid impotence he speaks,
And, as the Prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks,
Eve's tempter, thus the Rabbins have exprest —
A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest,
Beauty that shocks you, parts that none can trust,
Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust."
In June, 1826, the Earldom of Bristol was raised into a Marquisate. — M.

TO A CH^CK.

foyal husbands — the incorrigible babbling of maids of honor
—muttered threats of incarceration — and a confidential re-
monstrance on the part of a very sensible man, a member of
the Aulic council, respecting the confusion that might here-
after ensue, should it come to be suspected that the stream of
reputed legitimacy had been reinforced by a tributary rill of
Minister blood.

Upon his reappearance in Ireland, our prodigy, exulting in
the fame of his Continental exploits, was about to commence
a new course of wonders in his native land, when an unfore-
seen occurrence in the form a dishonored check upon his
banker came to

" repress his noble rage

And freeze the genial current of his soul."

He discovered that he was a ruined man. The patrimonial
ten thousand pounds which had given an eclat to all he did,
had vanished. The road to glory still lay before him, but he
was without a guinea in his pocket to pay the travelling ex-
penses.

In this emergency there were three courses open to him —
to cut his throat — to sell his soul to the Protestant ascendency
— or to be honest and industrious, and ply at his profession.
He chose the last — and (the most wondrous thing in his won-
derful career) it came to pass, that notwithstanding the many
apparent disqualifications under which he started, he rose, and
not slowly, to an eminence which no one but himself would
have ventured to predict. He is now " quantum mutatus ab
illo," a very able and distinguished person at the Irish Bar,
Mr. Sergeant Goold.

If I have ushered in my notice of this gentleman with an
allusion to the freaks of his youth, of which, after all, I may
have received an exaggerated account, it is because I consider
it to be infinitely to his praise that he should have so manfully
surmounted his early pretensions and disappointments, as the
progress of his professional history has evinced. The study
of "four-day rules," and "notices to quit," demands no extra-
ordinary reach of intellect ; but the transition from the airy

fitOMAS GOOLlX

speculations of a sanguine and ambitious disposition to these
unimaginative details is one the most abrupt and mortify-
ing that ever tried the elasticity and patience of the mental
powers.

Mr. Goold, notwithstanding the friskiness and levity of his
external deportment, had the inward energy to face and sur-
mount the repelling task. He plunged with a hardy and
exploring spirit into the wilderness of law — burst through its
perplexities, drank freely, and made no wry faces, from its
bitter springs ; and by a perseverance in patient and solitary
labor, entitled himself to more substantial returns than that
applause which he had once prized above every earthly com-
pensation.

Some time after Mr. Goold had formed this meritorious reso-
lution, an incident befell him, of which it is difficult to say
whether it was most calculated to quicken or to damp his new-
born ardor for laborious occupation. When Burke's celebrated
" Reflections on the French Revolution" appeared, the author
and the book, as all my readers know, were vigorously assailed.
Mr. Goold, considering the subject not unworthy of his pOAvers,
had thrown himself into the controversy. He was at the time
in a frame of mind befitting a sturdy partisan. He had re-
cently returned from Paris, where, during a residence of some
time, he had been an eyewitness of the disgusting clamor and
excesses of the period. He was also still smarting from the
recollection of certain rude accolades that had been forcibly
imposed upon himself by sundry haggard Naiads of the Halle
— a perversion of the authentic rights of men and of women,
against which, when he came to record the fact, he did not fail
to protest with genuine antigallic indignation. His pamphlet
was entitled, characteristically enough, a "Defence of Mr.
Burke's work « against all his opponents.'" The number that
had already declared themselves in print amounted to ten —
two anonymous ladies, and eight gentlemen — among whom
were Doctors Towers, Price, and Priestley.*

* Eminent dissenters, ultra-liberal in politics. Dr. John Towers, was a Unita-
rian preacher, and wrote several biographical and political works. He died
\n 1799, aged sixty-two. — Dr. Richard Price, celebrated for his ability ni arith

DEFENCE OF BURKE. 237

The defender of Burke took each of them in detail. The
gentlewomen he despatched with a good deal of gallant for-
bearance ; but for the doctors and their male auxiliaries he
had no mercy. He belabored them with unsparing logic and
more relentless rhetoric, until every sign of sense and argu-
ment was beaten out of them, and proclaimed his victory by a
final flourish of trumpets to the renown of Burke. " I never,
says he, saw Mr. Burke but once. I saw him from the gallery
of the House of Commons. I know no man that knows him.
I probably shall know no man 'that knows him. In a few
weeks I leave this country, perhaps never to return. I expect
but little from any man. I shall never ask any thing. In
whatever country I may live, in whatever situation I may be
placed, I shall look down on grandeur, I shall look up to
greatness. Nor wealth, nor rank, nor power, nor influence,
shall bend my stubborn neck. I am prostrate before talents ;
I am prostrate before worth ; my admiration of Mr Burke
amounts almost to enthusiasm," &c.

This was pretty strong incense, and there was more of the
same kind ; but I am quite certain that it was offered without
the remotest expectation of any return in either praise or
profit; and as to the writer's professions of independence,
though very hazardous in so young an Irishman, they have
been amply justified by his subsequent life. The pamphlet,

metical calculations, was consulted by William Pitt, as to the best mode of
paying off the national debt, and suggested the Sinking Fund, which Alison
thinks would have affected its purpose, if strictly adhered to and persevered
in. When the French revolution broke out, Dr. Price, who had charge of an
Arian congregation, near London, preached a sermon " On the Love of Coun-
try," in which he hailed the French revolution as the commencement of
a glorious era. Burke, in his celebrated Reflections on that event, severely
animadverted on Price and his opinions. Dr. Price died in 1791, aged sixty-
eight. — Dr. Joseph Priestley, a dissenting minister, well known as a political
writer and experimental philosopher, also was an ardent admirer of the French
revolution, and a mob at Birmingham, where he resided, burned his house,
library, manuscrij ts, and scientific apparatus and instruments, his life being in
imminent danger also. He retired to the United States in 1794, and died at
Northumberland, in Pennsylvania, in 1804, aged seventy-one. His published
extend to nearly eighty volumes. — M,

238 THOMAS GOOLD.

however, taken altogether, attracted the notice and excited
the gratitude of Burke.*

The fact is rather curious, as illustrating the predicament of

* By the common consent of competent Judges, of all shades of politics,
Burke was one of the greatest men at a period in British history, when emi-
nence was less frequent than at present. Dr. Johnson, who knew him well,
said, " Edmund Burke in discourse, calls forth all the powers of my mind ; were
I to argue with him on my present state, it would be the death of me." Some-
body asked him whether he did not think that Burke resembled Cicero, ana
Johnson answered, " No, sir : Cicero resembles Burke." At another lime he
said that no person of sense ever met Burke under a gateway to avoid a show-
er, who did not go away convinced that he was the first man in England. —
Fox, after their quarrel, publicly confessed that all he had ever read in books,
all that his fancy had imagined, all that his reasoning faculties had suggested,
or his experience had taught him, fell far short of the exalted knowledge which
he had acquired from Burke. — Grattan, when studying law in London, often
heard Burke speak (in 1772, ere he had reached middle life), and said he wag
ingenious, oratorical, undaunted ; boundless in knowledge, instantaneous in his
apprehensions, abundant in his language, speaking with profound attention
and acknowledged superiority. — Pitt characterized his remarks as the over-
flowing of a mind, the i-ichness of whose wit was unchecked for the time by
its wisdom. — Cazales declared that Burke possessed the sublimest talents, the
greatest and rarest virtues, that ever were enshrined in a single character.—
Gerard Hamilton, when at variance with him, protested that he understood
eveiything except gaming and music. — Windham said that it was not among
the least calamities of the times that the world had lost him. — Crabbe speaks
of the vastness of his attainments and the immensity of his varied powers. —
Lord Thurlow stated that Burke would be remembered with admiration when
Pitt and Fox would be comparatively forgotten. — Goldsmith, speaking of John
son, asked "Does he wind into a subject as Burke does?" — Learning, said
another admirer, waits upon him, like a handmaid, presenting to his choice all
that antiquity had called or invented. — As a public speakei*, he was bold and
forcible, his delivery easy and unembarrassed. He spoke with a strong Irish
accent, but his manner was inelegant. He was an orator, but not a debater.
He crowded his speeches with metaphors, ornaments, and classical allusions,
until the subject-matter was hidden beneath the illustrations. His eloquence
was too rich for the bulk of his auditors, consisting of plain country-gentlemen
— who sneered at what they did not understand. In a word, \e astonished
rather than convinced. His published must not be taken as his spoken speech-
es — for when they came to be printed he rewrote and corrected them so much
Jiat the compositors usually found it easier to distribute the type and reset the
v/hole matter than to attempt to alter it on the stone or in the galley! Lat-
terly, his parliamentary speeches did not at all strike his hearers — except for
their prolixity — they were spoken essays, and when he rose to deliver one of
them, two thirds of the members would retire to take refreshments at Bellamy'*.

EDMUND BURKF. 230

feeling in which that eminent person's new theories and new
connections had involved him. He had just quarrelled with
his old political associates for adhering to the spirit of the

Hence he was called The Dinner Bell. Goldsmith, who knew and loved
him, described him as one

" Who, bora for the universe, narrowed his mind,
And to party gave up what was meant for mankind:
Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,
And thought of convincing when they thought of dining."

General Fitzpatrick, speaking of Burke, said, "Ask any well-informed public
character, who is the best-informed man in Parliament, and the answer will
certainly be, Burke ; inquire who is the most eloquent or the most witty, p.nd
the reply will be, Burke ; then ask who is the most tiresome, and the response
still will be, Burke — most cei'tainly, Burke." Born in Ireland, on the first
day of 1730, Burke went to England, at the age of twenty-three, to study law.
His family chiefly supported him in London, but he also earned money by his
pen. His " Vindication of Natural Society," and his " Treatise on the Sub-
lime and Beautiful," published in 1756, introduced him into literary society.
Nine years after, he became private secretary to the Premier (the Marquis of
Rockingham), who brought him into Parliament. Then commenced that long
and brilliant career which is part of English history. His first effort, as a pol-
itician, was in favor of the American colonies, and, for several years, he op-
posed the obnoxious measures of the Government. He joined Fox in opposing
Lord North's administration, which they broke up — Burke taking office under
the new Ministry, retiring on the sudden death of Lord Rockingham. and il-
luming under the Coalition of Fox and North. At the age of five-and-twenty,
Pitt became Premier, and thenceforth Burke was exiled from office. This
was in 1783, and Burke continued a mere opposition-member until 1786, when
he became principal on the impeachment of Wan-en Hastings. During the
insanity of George III. in 1788, Burke joined Fox in asserting the claims of
the Prince of Wales to a regency without restrictions. In 1789, when the
French Revolution broke out, and his friends hailed it as the dawn of freedom
for the nations, Burke threw himself headlong into violent opposition, renounced
all connection with Fox, published his " Reflections on the French Revolution,"
which the European despots had translated into many languages, while George
III. presented copies of it to his particular friends, as " a book which every
gentleman ought to study." The work was so elaborated that no fewer than
ten or twelve proofs were destroyed before he could please his own fastidious
taste. He continued possessed with an anti-Gallican feeling during the remain-
ing few years of his life. In 1795, he obtained a State-pension of twelve hun-
dred pounds sterling a year, afterward raised to three thousand seven hundred
pounds sterling, with the remainder to his widow, who survived him very many
years. It is impossible to say whether an understanding that he was to be go
rewarded made Burke write down (as fur as he could) the principles of lib-
erty which he had avowed and defended for thirty years, but Sir Philip Francis

240 THOMAS GOOLD.

principles he himself had taught them. Still professing the
tenets of "an exalted freedom," he was pouring forth curses
and derision upon one of the most provoked and necessary acts
of freedom which the world had ever witnessed ; and such is
the sophistry with which a favorite passion can practise upon
the strongest intellect, he would fain persuade himself that he
was consistent to the last, and that doctrines which were hailed
with joy in every despotic coterie of Europe, were the only
genuine and unadulterated maxims of a British Whig.

But though bold even to overbearing in his public assertions
of his personal consistency, it is not unreasonable to surmise
that, in his private hours, his heart was ill at ease. He must
have felt that his fame, if not his conscience, was in want of
external support. Certain, however, it is, that he grasped at
the voluntary offer with something like the sign of a sinking
spirit. The tributes of ardent admiration and respect so pro-
fusely scattered through his young countryman's pamphlet
touched the veteran's feelings, and lived in his memory upon
the first occasion that offered of marking his sense of the obli-
gation.

The opportunity seemed to present itself upon the appoint-
ment of Lord Fitz william* in 1795 to the government of Ire-

(the reputed author of "The Letters of Junius") used to say that if the friends
of peace and liberty had subscribed thirty thousand pounds sterling to relieve
Burke's pecuniary embarrassments, there would have been no war against the
French Revolution. Burke's writings vindicated Pitt's policy of war with
France, to restore " legitimacy," and this war added six hundred million
pounds sterling to the National Debt of England ! Burke died on July 8,
1797, aged sixty-seven.— M.

* The Earl Fitzwilliam, nephew of the Marquis of Rockingham (who was
Prime Minister in 1765-'6, and again in 1782), entered the House of Commons
early, and steadily adhered to the principles of Fox, until the French revolu-
tion, when he seceded, as Burke did, and consequently pleased Pitt, who ad-
mitted him into the Cabinet in 1794, and sent him as Viceroy to Ireland, in
the following year. He was too liberal for the office and was soon recalled.
But he supported Pitt's war with France. In 1798-'9, he was appointed Lord
Lieutenant of the West Riding of Yorkshire, but was dismissed, in 1819, be
cause he had attended a public meeting held to petition for an inquiry into
the conduct of the Manchester magisti'ates at what is called " The Peterloo
Massacre." He had previously formed one of " All the Talents" ministry, io
1806. His death took place in 1833, in his seventy-fifth year.— M.

241

land. One evening Mr. Goold was sitting alone in his lodging,
and indulging (if it can be called an indulgence) in those
depressing reflections upon his future prospects with which the
stoutest-hearted junior barrister is occasionally visited, when
an English letter was put into his hand. It was from Edmund
Burke. It imported that " he had not forgotten Mr. G.'s ad-
mirable pamphlet, and that he was most desirous to advance,
as far as it in his power lay, the author's fortunes. An occa-
sion appeared to offer. The new viceroy of Ireland was com-
ing, preparatory to his departure for that country, to pass some
days at Beaconsfield; and if the demolisher of" the ten oppo-
nents could contrive, without loss of time, to cross the Channel,
and meet his lordship at Mr. Burke's, the happiest results
might be anticipated." None but those who know the brisk-
ness of Mr. Goold 'fi temperature, even at the present day, can
well conceive the delicious perturbation of spirit that must
have ensued. The lustre of the invitation itself — the ex-
pected glory of being present at conferences where the ap-
proaching redress of Irish wrongs was to be freely canvassed
— the elevating prospect of being himself officially selected to
contribute the aid of his attainments to the labors of a patriotic
administration — these and many other bright concomitants had
just arranged themselves into a picture almost too dazzling for
mortal eye, when one miserable reality intervened like an
angry cloud, and the gorgeous imagery faded away into mel-
ancholy dimness.

He was under a financial incapacity of complying with the
generous proposal of Mr. Burke. He was pondering over this
mortifying obstacle, when one of his friends, the late Sir
Charles Ormsby, entered the room.

" Was there ever such an unlucky fellow ?" said he, handing
the letter to Sir Charles. " See there, what an opportunity
of making my fortune presents itself ; and yet, for want of
about a hundred pounds to go over and make a proper appear
ance at Beaconsfield, I must let it slip."

Sir Charles was not in those days as rich as he subsequently
became, but his father was a wealthy and good-natured

242 THOMAS GOOLD.

"Go to my father," said he — "show him the letter, state
your situation, and I undertake to say that he'll accommodate
you."

The experiment succeeded. Mr. Gooldflew to Beaconsfield ;
was too late to catch the Viceroy, who had already set out for
Ireland; passed some days with Burke; reposted to Dublin,
the hearer of a powerful introduction to the favor of Lord Fitz-
william ; was graciously received, and would in all likelihood
have been included in the political arrangements then in prog-
ress : but the Beresfords were at work on the other side of the
water;* their fatal counsels prevailed; the patriotic Viceroy
was recalled ; the doom of Ireland was sealed, and the subject
of the present sketch reconsigned to the hard destiny of a legal
drudge. Fortunately, however, and honorably for himself, his
spirit was too buoyant to sink beneath the disappointment.
He betook himself with unabated ardor to his former pursuits.
His professional acquirements and efficiency became known ;
clients poured in upon him; in a few years he was invested
with a silk-gown ; and had not his political integrity interfered,
he would, if current report be true, have before this been seated
on the bench.

Sergeant G-oold's practice has been and still is principally
in the nisi-prius Courts. I have not much to say of his dis-
tinctive qualities as a lawyer. He is evidently quite at home
in all the points that come into daily question, and he puts
them forward boldly and promptly. Here, indeed, as else-
where, he affects a little too much of omniscience ; but un-
questionable it is that he knows a great deal. There is not, I
apprehend, a single member of his profession less liable to be
taken by surprise upon any unexpected point of evidence, or
practice, or pleading, the three great departments of our law
to which his attention has been chiefly directed. But there is
no want of originality in his appearance and manner. His
person is below the middle size, and, notwithstanding the wear

* The Beresfords, members of the Marquis of Waterford's family, took an
active and intolerant part in governing Ireland for forty years before the Union.
The cruelties of John Claudius Beresford, during the revolt of 1798, were no-
torious, enormous, and wanton — almost beyond credibility — 1VI.

HIS VANITY. 243

and tear of sixty years, continues compact, elastic, and airy.*
His face, though he sometimes gives a desponding hint that it
is not what it was, still attests the credibility of his German
adventures. The features are small and regular, and keen
without being angular. His manner is all his own. His quick
blue eye is in perpetual motion. It does not look upon an
object ; it pounces upon it. So of the other external signs of
character. His body, like his mind, moves at double-quick

* Charles Phillips describes Goold and Grady as the established and recog-
nised gladiators " of the Irish Court of Common Pleas, over which presided the
punning- Lord Norbury, with the glow of Bacchus and the cheeks of JEoW—
his Lordship, it should be noted, always puffed, like an asthmatic locomotive,
before uttering a joke. " Goold was a little man, well formed, and of consid-
erable accomplishments. Sensitive and fastidious, he acknowledged but one
earthly model of perfection, which, however, he viewed with Eastern idolatry,
and that was — himself! With the versatility of a Crichton and the politeness
of a Chesterfield, all airs and graces, master of everything, and neglecting noth-
ing, he was " himself alone" unapproached and inimitable, jitdice Tom. He
not only argued, declaimed and philosophized, better than any one else, but
he sang, he danced, he rode, he even brushed his hair so as to set rivalry at
defiance. Guileless and harmless vanity! counterpoised by a thousand sterling
qualities. He was an excellent Nisi-Prius fencer, and even rose at times to a
high order of eloquence. Had Goold been contented with the world's estimate
of him as he really was, all would have admitted him to be an eminent man.
But he sharpened censure and excited ridicule by aspiring to be what no man
ever was — in every art, trade, science, profession, accomplishment, and pursuit
under the sun, a ne plus ultra. The pitch to which he carried this foible was in-
credible. Expatiating one day on the risk he ran from a sudden rise of the
tide when riding on the North Strand, near Dublin, he assured his hearer, that
" had he not been the very best horseman in existence, he must have beeo
drowned ; in short never was human being in such danger." His friend re
plied, " My dear Tom, there was one undoubtedly in still greater, for a poor
man was drowned there this morning." " By heaven ! sir," bellowed Goold,
" I might have been drowned if I chose." There is a portrait of Goold in Bar
rington's Secret Memoii-s of the Union (taken about the year 1810), which
ghowg him with handsome and well-cut features, and a very intellectual ex
pres.sion. My own recollection of Goold dates as far back as 1827, when re
went the Munster Circuit. I saw him at the Cork assizes. He was then a
whitehaired man, small in person, neat in attire, with that certain elegance of
manner rarely acquired without familiar mingling in good society, a clear com-
plexion, and very kern oyes. His voice was feeble, and his energy appeared
extinct. He was then one of the King's Sergeants, which gave him prece-
dence ac the bar, and the lead in all the Crown cases. His income contimu'tl,
therefore, long after his actual ability to earn it had declined and faded. — M.

244 THOMAS GOOLD.

time. He darts into court to argue a question of costs with the
precipitation of a man rushing to save a beloved child from the
flames. This is not trick in him, for among the collateral arts

f of attracting notice at the Irish bar is that of scouring with

I breathless speed from court to court, upsetting attorneys' clerks,
making panting apologies, with similar manifestations of the

f counsel's inability to keep pace with the importunate calls of

1 his multitudinous clients.

Sergeant Gloold stands too high, and is, I am certain, too
proud to think of resorting to these locomotive devices. His
impetuosity is pure temperament. In the despatch of business,
more especially in the chorus-scenes, where half-a-dozen learned
throats are at once clamoring for precedence, he acquits him-
self with a physical energy that puts him almost upon a par
in this respect with that great " lord of misrule" O'Connell
himself.

He is to the full as restless, confident, and vociferative, but
he is not equally indomitable ; and I have some doubts whether
with all his bustle and vehemence, he ever ascends to the true
sublime of tumult which inspires his learned and unemanci-
pated friend. The latter, who is in himself an ambulatory
riot, dashes into a legal affray with the spirit of a bludgeoned
hero of a fair, determined to knock down every friend or foe
he meets, " for the honor of old Ireland." He has the secret
glory too of displaying his athletic capabilities before an audi-
ence, by many of whom he knows that he is feared and hated.
Sergeant Goold, who has not the same personal incentive, is
more measured and courtly in his uproar, and will often, long
before his lungs are spent, as if his dignity had taken a sudden
fright, declare off abruptly, and invoke the talismanic interces-
sion of the Bench.

Let not the unlearned reader imagine that I am affecting a
tone of idle levity. These forensic rants are of daily recur-
rence; and to have nerves to withstand them is a matter of no
little moment to barristers and clients. It is within the sanc-
tuaries of justice that much of the rough work of human con-
cerns is transacted ; and the subjects, to be handled well, must
tie rou^hlv handled. The knave must be vehemently ar

HIS FORENSIC O&ATOfclT. 245

raignecl ; the injured clamorously vindicated ; the factious and
dishonest witness tortured and stunned until his soul surrenders
the hidden truth. The man who can do this is of value in his
calling; but should his taste recoil from the rude collision, he
may still attain to legal distinction by other and less rngg-ed
paths — but as he values his interest and fame, let him resign
all hope of making a figure in a nisi-prius Court.

Sergeant Goold passes in the Irish Courts for an eloquent
advocate. In one sense of the word he is so; for though, far,
from being a pleasant speaker, and having manifold defects of j
delivery and action, he still contrives to make a very strong \
impression' upon a jury, where feeling is to be excited, or the
understanding forcibly impelled in a particular direction. His
faults of manner are angularity, abruptness, and violence. His
articulation is rapid and unmusical. His diction has no equa-
bility of flow — it bursts out in irregular spirts. But he has a
clear head, much experience of human character and passion,
and infinite reliance upon himself. His tones, however faulty,
are fervid and sincere. His sentiments, though often extrava-
gantly delivered, are bold and natural, and reach the heart.
I would describe his ordinary style of addressing a jury by
saying, not that it deeply moves them, for that wonld imply
a more regular and finished order of speaking, but that it " stirs
them up." In a word, he bustles through an appeal to the
intellect or passions with great ability. He commits many
Faults of taste, but no essential breach of skill.

The jury are often startled by his detonations, and often
join in the general smile that follows those little personal epi-
sodes into which the learned Sergeant occasionally diverges;
but, after all, they see that they have before them a man who
knows well what he is about. They listen to him with atten-
tion and respect ; never suspect that he has the slightest design
to puzzle them ; and, when they retire to cool their fancies in
the jury-room, feel extremely disposed to agree that the views
he had thrown up to them were founded in the justice and
good sense of the case.

Mr. Goold sat in the last session of the Irish Parliament.
The occasion of his presence there is much to his honor. I

GOOLt).

have not heard by what particular influence he was returned.
It is sufficient to state that lie had already earned a character
for talent and public integrity, which pointed him out as a fit
person to co-operate in defending the last pass of the Irish
Constitution against the meditated surrender by its perfidious
guardians.

The secret history of the Union has not yet transpired in
all its ignominious details. A work professing to perform such
an act of historical vengeance, and emanating from an eye-
witness, was undertaken about eighteen years ago. A kind of
prefatory volume, taking up the subject at an ominous distance,
was published as a specimen. The continuation, or, more
strictly speaking, the commencement, was anxiously expected.
I have no authority for asserting that there was any tampering
with the writer's indignation ; but it may be mentioned as a
curious coincidence, that the suspension of his design was co-
eval with his appointment to be Judge of the Court of Admi-
ralty in Dublin, over which, if there be any truth in the old
maxim, "Major e longinquo reverentia" he must be allowed to
have presided in a style of the most imposing dignity. He
has for many years been a resident of France; sometimes, no
doubt, sojourning in the Isle of Oleron, where our sea-laws were
originally compiled and promulgated by Richard I., and lat-
terly in the town of Boulogne-sur-Mer, where his marine medi-
tations must be greatly assisted by the visible aspect of " things
flotsam, jetsam, and ligan," to say nothing of the cheering
influence of an occasional wreck, in reminding him of the
convenience of judicial functions that can be performed by
deputy.*

* Mr. Shell appears to have literally stated this " without the book." The
publication to which he alludes, was in quarto form, with several fine portraits
well engraved, and as many as six parts or livrassons were published, making
three hundred and two pages in all. The first part appeared in June, 1809
(with a preface signed by the author, who dated from Merrion Square, Dublin),
and the sixth part was published in March, 1815. The actual title of the book
is as follows : " The Historic Memoirs of the Legislative Union between Great
Britain and Ireland; by Sir Jonah Harrington, one of his Majesty's Council at
Law, Judge of the High Court of Admiralty in Ireland, and Member of the
late Irish Parliament for the Cities of Tuam and Clogher." In point of fact

Sift .tptfAH fcARElNGTOff.

Had Sir Jonah Harrington persevered in his design, lie
would have had some strange things to tell of the honorable

he was made Judge two years before the appearance of the first number of his
book. There was an interval of seventeen years between Part VI. and the
conclusion. He stated that this delay was caused, not by himself, as the book
had long been completed, but by three several booksellers, who undertook to
publish it, having become bankrupt. As the republication, in New York, of
the clever and popular " Personal Sketches of his Own Times," has recently
drawn attention to Sir Jonah Harrington, I shall give his memoir, which is
not to be found in any Biographical Dictionary. The Gentleman's Magazine
(of London) when it announced his death, promised a biography, but never
gave one. — Sir Jonah Barrington, born in Ireland, in 1767, was called to the
Irish Bar in 1788, entered Parliament as member for Tuam, in 1790, and
directly opposed Grattan and Curran — a proceeding which, in riper years, he
described as " true arrogance." In 1793, as a reward for his subservience to
the Government, he was appointed to a sinecure in the Dublin Custom-House,
worth one thousand pounds sterling a year. He was also made King's Coun-
sel, though only five years at the bar. He says that, in 1799, Lord Castlereagh
promised to make him Solicitor-General, but afterward refused to do so, on
finding that he was resolved to oppose the Union. He stood candidate for
Dublin, in 1803, where he was popular because he had latterly opposed the
hated Lord Clare, and the first four persons who voted for him were Gcattan,
Curran, Ponsonby, and Plunket ; after a prolonged contest of fifteen days (the
time of polling is now limited to one) he lost his election. He was made Judge
of the High Court of Admiralty in Ireland, and knighted in 1807. He published
a portion of his " Historic Memoir of the Union," between 1809 and 1815, and
went to France in the latter year, being in Paris during Napoleon's " Hundred
Days." From that time, owing to pecuniary difficulties, he continued to re-
side in France, discharging the duties of his judgeship by deputy. In 1827,
he published the " Personal Sketches of his Own Times," which has had great
popularity wherever English books are read. In the House of Commons, in
1830, a serious charge of malversation (applying to his own use funds belong-
ing to private v parties, under the Admiralty laws), and it was reported to the
House by a committee of inquiry that the charge was proven. On this, both
Houses of Parliament joined in an address to the Crown to remove him from
hig high office — he had failed in an attempt to disprove the charge in person
before the House of Lords — and he was removed accordingly. Shortly aftei'
this, he published the remainder of his suspended Memoirs and Anecdotes of
the Union, and its details are the fullest and most exact yet made public. He
died at Versailles, April 8, 1834. Barrington was a witty, shrewd, and com-
panionable man. His personal sketches are full of lively incident. Of his
oral facetiae the following is a specimen : Once, amid the ruins of a cathedral,
somebody asked what the nave of the church was ? " The incumbent, to be
sure," said Barrington. When the clergyman heard of it he observed th»l
'* Sir Jonah had given a key (k) to the question." — M.

248 THOMAS GOOtt).

gentlemen who sold their country. There was much, however,
that could not be concealed. The measure, smoothed and var-
nished as it might be to meet the public eye, retained all the
coarse and disgusting outlines of an Irish job. It was proposed
in 1799, and rejected.

The following year, the proposition was renewed and car-
ried. In the interval, wonders had been done in the way of
an amicable arrangement. The predatory rights of an Irish
representative were duly considered and admitted. A vote
and its concomitant privileges were not now to be estimated at
the old market-price of seven years' purchase, but, being to be
bought up in perpetuity, a just and commensurate equivalent
was allowed to meet the increased cost of a majority, all kinds
of compensation in possession and reversion were forthcoming.*
Peerages were given down. The Bench was mortgaged. The
earnest of a pension was advanced to soothe the impatience of
the reversionary placeman. Boroughs were declared to be
private property, and so excellent and certain a provision for
the patron's younger children, that it would be a violation of
all justice to exact their gratuitous surrender. Their pecuniary
value was ascertained, and the public faith solemnly pledged
to treat a customary breach of the constitution (a title to prop-
erty of which Blackstone never dreamed) as one that by " the
courtesy of Ireland" gave the prescriptive offender an equita-
ble interest in its continuance.!

* Numerous anecdotes of the legislative higgling on this occasion are current
in Ireland — some of them sufficiently dramatic. One member, for example,
tendered his terms. They were accepted, and a verbal promise given that the
contract should be faithfully observed. He insisted upon a written guaranty.
This was refused, and the treaty broken off. The member went down to the
house, and vented a virtuous harangue against the proposed measure. As soon
as he sat down, the written security was handed to him. He put it in his
pocket, voted against his speech, and was in due season appointed to a lucra-
tive office which he still enjoys, defying the historian and laughing at the no-
tion of posthumous fame.

t By the Act of Union, eighty-four boroughs were disfranchised. Remuner-
ation, to the amount of fifteen thousand pounds steiiing each, was voted to the
patrons. In the debate on the latter point, one of Lord Castlereagh's argu-
ments was that the patrons could not have been brought to enter upon " a cool
examination," of the general question, had not their fears for their personal in

filS VOTE AGAINST THE UNiOtf. 249

These are but a few specimens of the means resorted to in
order to precipitate a measure that was announced in all the
pomp of prophetic assertion, as the sure and only means of
conferring prosperity and repose upon the Irish nation : and
were it not for certain counteracting circumstances, such as —
the nightly incursions of Captain Rock ; the periodical eclipses
of the Constitution by the intervention of the Insurrection Act ;
a pretty general insecurity of life and property ; the decay of
public spirit ; the growth of faction ; a weekly list of insolven-
cies, murders, conflagrations, and letters from Sir Harcourt
Lees, unprecedented in the annals of a happy country — but for
these, and similar visitations, all originating in the comprehen-
sive and inscrutable efforts of the prophets themselves to falsify
their prediction, the Union, notwithstanding the demerits of
its supporters, might long since have ceased to be a standing
topic of popular execration.

The disasters that, in point of fact, have followed, were
pretty accurately foreseen by the men who opposed this much-
vaunted measure. They failed, but they did their duty fearlessly
and well, and not one of them, it is but just to say, in a spirit
of more entire self-oblivion, and more earnest sensibility to his
public duties, than the person whose name is prefixed to the
present article. His manly and upright conduct, as usual in
Ireland, excited deep and lasting resentment. He was stig-
matized as an honest Irishman, and, disdaining to atone by
after-compliances for his original offence, had to encounter all
those impediments to professional advancement which syste-
matically followed so obnoxious a disqualification.

Here I had intended to close my observations upon Sergeant
Goold ; but it occurs to me that there remains one topic, not,
indeed, connected with his professional life, but of so much

terests been set at rest by a certainty of compensation. The injustice of anni-
hilating provisions in family settlements resting upon the security of boroughs
was also insisted on. I like better the stern logic of Mr. Saurin ; " There can
be no injustice in denying property to be acquired by acts which the law de-
clares to be a crime. As well might the highwayman, upon a public road being
stopt up, exclaim against the disturbance of his right to plunder the passengers."
[The actual sum paid away, as " compensation," to the patrons of Irish bor
ougliB, at the Union, was over one and a half million pounds sterling. — M.]

*

250 ttfoMAS GOttLfc.

notoriety, and to tins day so often canvassed, that a total
silence upon it miglit be misconstrued. I allude to the evidence
which he gave in the year 1818, at the bar of the House of
Commons, upon the inquiry into the conduct of Mr. Wyndham
Quin.* An imputation was cast upon his character at the
time; and though stifled, as far as it could be, by the vote of

i an immense majority of the House, it has not wanted external
support in that uncharitable spirit, which is ever ready to pro-

t nounce a summary verdict of conviction, upon no other founda-
tion than the fact of a charge having been made.

I have now before me the report of the debates, and the
minutes of the evidence in question. The latter are so
voluminous, that it would be altogether unjust to the party
concerned, to propose repelling the accusation by any analysis
and comments that could be condensed into my present limits.
I can merely state the general conclusion, to which I have
eome upon a minute examination and comparison of the sev-
eral parts of the evidence ; and that is my full and unhesi-
tating conviction, that Mr. G-oold was as incapable as the most
high-minded of his accusers, of intentionally withholding or
misrepresenting a single fact which he was called upon to dis-
close. He was, I admit, what is technically called " a bad
witness ;" barristers are proverbially so (instead of an answer
they give a speech). Mr. Goold, from his habits and temper-
ament, is peculiarly so. Upon every matter, great and small,
he is hot and hasty ; and announces his views with the tone
and temper of a partisan. It is a part of the constitution of
his mind, to have an undue confidence in the infallibility of his
faculties and the importance of his personal concerns. All
this broke out, as it does everywhere else, at the bar of the
House of Commons: he could no more repress it than he

* Goold, wheji examined as a witness in the Limerick Election case, an-
swered so vaguely, and confusedly, that his statement appeared fall of discrep-
ancies. The Election Committee reported him guilty of prevarication — a
serious charge against a man of his standing at the bar and in society. The
result was that he was thenceforth passed over in all law appointments. Pre-
viously, his elevation to the bench was considered certain. Goold eventually
became Master in Chancery (a sort of legal sinecure in his case), and died at
a very advanced age. — M.

ENDORSED BY GRATtAtf.

could the movement of his arteries; and the effect upon the
minds of strangers to his peculiarities may naturally enough
have been unfavorable : but when the question arisen is a
denial of a collateral and unessential matter of fact, a lapse of
memory, or a meditated suppression, surely every one, who
would not wantonly shake the stability of character, should
feel bound to put the tenor of a long and honorable life against
a most improbable supposition.

This was the -view taken by those Avho knew him best:
among the rest, by the late Mr. Grattan, whose friendship
alone formed high evidence of a spotless reputation. For
thirty years Mr. Grattan had been his intimate friend, and
had seen him pass through the ordeal of times which tried,
as far as any earthly process can try, the worth and honor of
a man: and what was his impassioned exclamation? "Mr.
Goold is thoroughly known to me. I would stake my exist-
ence upon his integrity, as I would upon my own. If he is
not to be trusted, I know not who is to be trusted !" To this
attestation, and its inference, I can not but cordially subscribe.

JOHN HENRY NORTH.

I LOOK upon MR. NORTH to be in several respects a very-
interesting person. He is immediately so by the great respec-
tability of his character and talents. He is at the same time
a subject that less directly invites the attention and speculation
of an observer, in consequence of certain predicaments of sit-
uation and feeling, upon which his lot 'has cast him, and in
discussing which the mind must, of necessity, ascend from the
qualities and the fortunes of the individual to considerations of
a higher and more lasting concern. If I were to treat of him
solely as a practising barrister, possessed of certain legal attri-
butes, and having reached a determined station, the task would
be short and simple. But this would be unjust. Mr. North's
mind and acquirements, and, it may be added, his personal
history, entitle him to a more extended notice, and, in some
points of view, to greater commendation, not unmingled, how-
ever, with occasional regrets, than his merely forensic career
would claim.

It is now about fifteen years since Mr. North was called to
the Irish bar.* He was called, not merely by the bench of

* John Henry North, born in 1789, went through Trinity College, Dublin,
with brilliant success, obtaining such distinctions there that no one for a century
had a higher collegiate reputation. In 1811, he was called to the bai, and
immediately established a name for eloquence and legal acumen. He waa
married in 1818, to the sister of John Leslie Foster, afterward a Judge, and a
near relative of Lord Oriel. Mr. North, whose character for oratory was very
high, was brought into Parliament, in 1824, for an English borough, by Can-
ning to whom he was known. He was returned for an Irish borough in 1831,
and by no means equalled the expectations of his political friends. In 1830,
On the removal of Sir Jonah Barrington, the office of Judge of the Admiralty

HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 253

legal elders performing the technical seremony of investment,
but by the unanimous voices of a host of admiring friends,
so numerous as to be in themselves a little public, who fondly
predicted that his career would form a new and brilliant era
in the annals of Irish oratory. This feeling was not an absurd
and groundless partiality. There was, in truth, no previous
instance of a young man making his entry into the Four
Courts, under circumstances so imposing and prophetic of a
high destination. He had already earned the fame of being
destined to be famous. In his college course he had outstripped
every competitor. He there obtained an optime — an attes-
tation of rare occurrence, and to be extorted only by merit of
the highest order in all of the several classical and scientific
departments, upon which the intellect of the student is made
to sustain a public scrutiny into the extent of its powers and
attainments.

The Historical Society was not yet suppressed.* Mr. North
was accounted its most shining ornament. It was an estab-
lished custom that each of its periodical sessions should be

Court in Ireland was conferred upon Mr. North, by the Duke of Wellington.
When the Reform Bill was brought forward by Earl Grey's administration, ita
details were opposed by Mr. North, who considered it a revolutionary meas-
ure; Canning whose politics he held, had always opposed Parliamentary Reform.
Mr. North died in September, 1831, at the early age of forty-two.

* The Historical Society, long connected with the University of Dublin, was
at once the nursery and the school of Irish Eloquence. There some of the great
men who have made history, learned the difficult task of public speaking, which
has been well defined to be the art of thinking on one's legs. In that arena,
Sheil himself was schooled in rhetoric. Among the later orators in this Soci-
ety were Charles Wolfe, author of the noble lyric, " Not a drum was heard,"
in which he described the burial of Sir John Moore, who fell, in January, 1809,
during the retreat at Corunna. The liberal principles professed and vindicated
in the Historical Society, induced the University authorities first to discounte-
nance it, next to restrict its license, then to drive it out of connection with the
College, and finally to suppress it. The Speculative Society of Edinburgh, of
which an account is given in Lockhart's "Life of Scott" — the place where
Jeffrey, Brougham, and their compeers, learned to be eloquent — appears to
have much resembled the Historical Society of Dublin. So, also, to this hour,
are the Debating Clubs (called " The Union"), at the Universities of Oxford
and Cambridge, where Heber and Gladstone, ns well as Macaulay and
first gained distinction among their fejjows. — M,

254: JOHN HENRY NOKTH.

closed by a parting address from the chair, reviewing and
commending the objects of the institution. The task, as a
mark of honor, was assigned to Mr. North. It was the last of
his academic efforts, and is still referred to by those who heard
him, as a rare and felicitous example of youthful enthusiasm
for eloquence and letters, soaring above the commonplaces of
panegyric, and dignifying its raptures by the most luminous
views, and by illustrations drawn from the resources of a pure
and lofty imagination. It was pronounced to be a masterpiece,
and the author urged to extend the circle of his admirers by
consenting to its publication. But he had the modesty or the
discretion to refuse ; and the public were deprived of a compo-
sition which, whatever might be its other merits, would at least
have told as a glowing satire upon the miserable, monastic
spirit, that soon after abolished the Historical Society as a
perilous innovation upon the primitive objects of the royal
foundress of Trinity College. It is e'difying to add, that John
Locke's Treatise on Government was also pronounced to in-
spire doctrines that would have met no countenance " in the
golden days of good Queen Bess ;" and as such, was expelled
from the college course.

Mr. North's talents for public speaking were further exer-
cised, and with increasing reputation, in the Academical So-
ciety of London. The impression that he made there attracted
numerous visiters. He had now to stand the brunt of an au-
dience little predisposed to be fascinated by provincial decla-
mation. But the severest judges of Irish oratory admitted
that his was copious, brilliant, and, best of all, correct. He
was pronounced by some to be fitted for the highest purposes
of the senate. It was even whispered that a ministerial mem-
ber (a fortunate emigrant from Ireland, who had lately proved
his capacity for less delicate commissions), had been secretly
deputed from Downing street* to "look in" at the academies,

* Downing street in London is a cul-de-sac in Parliament street, close to the
Horse-Guards, and in the vicinity of the Legislature. The principal offices of
the State Administration are in this street — or rather were, as they have lat-
terly been much increased, and their principal fafade (which has many archi-
tectural beauties, and was erected by Sir Charles Barry, the architect of the
Hpuse§ of Parliament) is in Whitehall. The Colonial and foreign Ofii-

GROWING CELEBRITY. 255

and report upon the expediency of tendering a borough and a
place to the youthful orator. But whether it was that the
honorable and learned missionary had no taste for a style of
eloquence abo.ve his own; or that he missed that native auda-
city which he could so well appreciate ; or that he had the
shrewdness to infer, from certain popular tendencies, in the
speaker's cast of thought, that he might turn out not to be a
marketable man — the experiment upon Mr. North's virgin
ambition, if ever meditated, was not exposed to the risk of
failure. The murmur, however, ran that such a proposal had
been in agitation. Mr. North's growing celebrity had all the
benefit of the rumor ; and when he shortly after appeared in
the Irish Hall, he was considered to have perched upon that
bleak and arid waste as upon a mere place of passage, whence,
at the expected season of transmigration, he was to wing his
flight to a brighter and more congenial clime. This latter
event, however, contrary to the calculations and wishes of all
who knew him, was for years delayed. It is only the other
day that Mr. North has at length been summoned to the
Senate,*

In the interval, his progress at the bar, however flattering it
might be to a person of ordinary pretensions, has not realized
the auspicious anticipations under which his coming was an-
nounced. Wherever he has been tried, he has proved his
legal competency. In some of the qualifications for profes-
sional eminence, and, among them, those in which a proud butt ^
unambitious man would most desire to excel — in a sound andl c^
comprehensive knowledge of general principles, and a facility/
of developing them in lucid and imposing language, he need
not shrink from a comparison with a single contemporary rival.

nei are in Downing street: the Home and Council Offices, with the Board of
Trade, the Commissioners of Education, Treasury, and Woods and Forests,
are in Whitehall, in connection with Downing street. The War Office and the
Admiralty are between the Treasury buildings and Charing-Cross. — M.

* Mr. North first was returned in 1825, for Milboume Port, a small borough
under the influence of the Marquis of Anglesey, who was then in friendly rela-
tions with Canning, under whom he held office two years later. Milboume
Port (which was disfranchised in 1832, by the Reform Bill) was represented,
j« 1830-'31, by Mr. Sheil.— Mf

256 JOHN HENKY NORTH.

Iii others, and especially in the rarer and higher art of kind-
ling and controlling the passions of an auditory, he has not
hitherto answered to the prophetic hopes by which he was
" set like a man divine above them all ;" while, in respect of
that extra-forensic and general importance which a person so
gifted might, it was imagined, so rapidly attain, he has been
altogether stationary. When he first appeared to public view,
he lighted upon a pedestal, and the pedestal and the statue
remain where they were. The question is often asked by
others (and I doubt not by himself), " How has this come to
pass ]" It is one involving matters of general interest to all
who embark in public life ; and I shall endeavor, as I proceed,
to offer a few such incidental hints, as, when collected, may
supply a satisfactory answer.

The early admirers of this accomplished young man were
fully warranted at the time in their praises and predictions.
His mind was one of rapid growth, and put forth in its first-
fruits the same qualities, in both kind and degree, which are
the subject of just admiration at the present day. His intellect
is singularly sound and clear. For the acquirement of knowl-
edge, it may be said to be nearly perfect. It is vigorous,
i cautious, and comprehensive. The power of attention, that
I master-key to science, is under his absolute control. Whatever
is capable of demonstration is within his grasp. Give him any
system to explore, and no matter how intricate the paths,
•wherever a discoverer has gone before, he will be sure to fol-
low in his track. His understanding, in a word, is eminently
docile ; at 1'east so I would infer from the early extent and
rapidity of his scientific attainments, and from the habits of
order and perspicacity with which he has mastered the less
manageable dogmas of our national jurisprudence.

In the power of imparting what he has thus acquired, Mr.
North has also much that is uncommon. One qualification of
a speaker he possesses in an extraordinary degree. For ex-
I temporaneous correctness and copiousness of phrase, I would
place him in the very highest rank. All that he utters,
wherever the occasion justifies the excitement of his faculties,
wight be safelv printed without revision, Period after period

O'CONNELL AS A SPEAKER. 257

rolls on, stately, measured, and complete. There is a paternal
solicitude — perhaps a slight tinge of aristocratic pride, in his
determination that the children of his fancy should appear
ahroad in no vulgar garb. He is not like O'Connell, who,
with the improvidence of his country, has no compunction in
flinging a brood of robust young thoughts upon the world
without a rag to cover them.* Mr. North's are all tastefully

* O'Connell had wonderful versatility as a speaker. He literally acted on
the advice of St. Paul, and was "all things to all men." In a Court of Law, he
occasionally joked with a jury, dragged them into his view of the case, by sub-
tile argument, strong declamation, and an irresistibly natural manner. At a
political meeting, where he spoke to the multitude, he alternately made them
smile or get enraged, as he jrsted or moved their feelings. In Parliament,
which he did not enter until he was fifty-four years old, he was calm, more
subdued, more careful, more solicitous in his choice of words, and his man-
ner of delivering them. He made some lucky hits, too, which amused the
members. Such was his allusion to Mr. Walter, of the Times newspaper, who
retained his seat on the Government side of the House, in 1835, after his Tory
friends had crossed back to the opposition benches. O'Connell turning to him,
apostrophized him as

" The last rose of Summer

Left blooming alone,
All its lovely companions

Are faded or gone !"

So, also, when sneering at the few adherents who sided with Lord Stanley (now
Earl of Derby), in 1834, when he seceded from the Grey Ministry, he quoted
two lines from Darwin —

" Thus down thy hill, romantic Asbourne, glides

The Derby dilly, carrying six insides."

And his parody on the three militia Colonels — Percival, Verner, and Sibthorpe.
who xvere respectively brazen, intolerant, and hirsute : —

" Three Colonels, in three distant counties born

Sligo, Armagh, and Lincoln, did adorn.

The first in matchless impudence surpassed,

The next in bigotry — in both, the last.

The force of Nature could no farther go —

To beard the third, she sheared the other two !"

As a parliamentary speaker, independent of his readiness and ability, O'Con-
nell had immense weight from his position as the " Member of all Ireland,"
actually carrying with him the votes of nearly one half the Irish members.
But Sheil, as an orator, was listened to with more attention and delight. The
moment his shrill voice was heard, all was fixed attention and eager expecta-
tion, fi.r every one knew that a great intellectual treat was at hand,-- M

258 JOHN HENRY NOKTH.

and comfortably clad. But this extraordinary care is unmark
cd by any laborious effort. In the article of stores of diction,
his mind is evidently in affluent circumstances, and betrays no
lurking apprehension that the demands upon it may exceed
his resources. There are no ostentatious bursts of unwonted
expenditure to keep up the reputation1 of his solvency. Sen-
tence after sentence is disbursed with the familiar air of un-
concern which marks the possessor of the amplest funds.

With qualifications such as these, unequivocally manifested
at a very early age, and aided by a graceful and imposing
manner and a personal character which stamped a credit upon
all he uttered, and these natural excellences stimulated by a
generous ambition to answer the general call that was made
upon him to be a foremost man in his day, it was naturally to
be anticipated that Mr. North would do great things; but his
endowments, however rare, have been greatly marred, as to
all the purposes of his fame, by a radical defect of tempera-
ment, to the chilling influence of which I can trace the failure
of the splendid hopes that attended his entrance upon public
life. Mr. North has abundant strength of intellect, but he has
not equal energy of will. His mind wants boldness and deter-
mination of character. It wants that hardihood of purpose
and contempt of consequences, without which nothing great in
thought or action can be accomplished. He is trammelled by
a fastidious taste, and by a disastrous deference to every petty
opinion that may be pronounced upon him. He sacrifices his
fame to his dignity. Fame, he should have remembered, is
like other fair ladies, and faint heart never won her. Like the
rest, she must be warmly arid importunately wooed. He
shrinks, however, from the notion of committing himself as her
suitor, except upon a classical occasion.

I have been often asked "if I considered Mr. North to be a
man of genius?" My answer has been, "He would be, if he
dared." If it were possible to transfuse into his system a few
quarts of that impetuous Irish blood which revels in O'Con-
n ell's veins — if he could be brought to bestir himself and
burst asunder the conventional fetters that enchain his spirit,
lie has many of the other qualities that would entitle him to

HIS FASTIDIOUS TASTES. 259

that envied .appellation. But as it is, his powers are enthralled
in a state of magnetic suspension between the conflicting in-
fluences of his ambition and his apprehensions. With all the
desire in the world to be an eminent man, and conscious that
the elements of greatness are within him, one of its most neces
sary attributes he still is without — a sentiment of masculine
self-reliance, and along with it a calm and settled disdain for
the approbation of little friends, and the censure of little ene-
mies, and the murmurs of the tea-table, and the mock-heroic
gravity with which mediocrity is ever sure to frown upon a
style of language or conduct above its comprehension. Hence
it is, that he has never yet redeemed the pledges of his youth.
In his public displays, which, from the same scrupulous taste,
have been far more unfrequcnt than they ought, he has been
copious, graceful, instructive, and, in general, almost faultless
to a fault. But the lofty spirit of heroic oratory was wanting
— " there was no pride nor passion there." He is so afraid
of " tearing a passion to tatters," he'll scarcely venture to touch
it. He distrusts even light from heaven for fear it should lead
astray.

I am far from attributing these deficiencies to any inherent
incapacity of lofty emotions in Mr. North ; I should rather say
that he has been in some sort the spoiled child of premature
renown. The applause that followed his first attempts taught
him too soon to propose himself as a model to himself, and to
shudder at the danger of degenerating from that ideal standard.
He speculated " too curiously" upon how much character he
might lose, without considering how much more might yet be
gained. In this respect he arrived too soon at his years of
discretion. His mind seems also .to have early imbibed an
undue predilection for the mere elegancies of life, and for
external circumstances as connected with them. In spite of
his better opinions on the subject of human ^rights, I 'am not
«ure that his heart would not beat as high and quick at the
pageantry of a Coronation, as at the demolition of a Bastille!
In matters of literature, too, I would almost venture to say
that what in secret delights him most, is not the bold, impas-
gioned, and agitating, but the gentle and diffuse : that he Jikefi

260 JOHN HENRY NORTH.

not the shock of those tempests of thought that purify the
mental atmosphere, chasing away the collected clouds, and
tearing up our sturdiest prejudices by the roots, hut rather
prefers to repose his spirit in the midst of those quiet reveries
where no favorite opinion is in danger of being shaken. In-
stead of ascending to the mountain-tops with the hardy specu-
lator, he would rather linger among the charms of the culti-
vated plain with the meek essayist — where, sauntering along
through scenes of security and repose, with all harsher objects
excluded from the view, and nothing around but sweet sights,
sweet smells, and pleasant noises, becalming every sense, the
pensive soul, forgetting, for the moment, the world and its
ways, is lulled to rest, and dreams that all is right.

Mr. North would have written the most beautiful letters in
the world from the Lake of Geneva, and riot the less so from
the inspiring influence of an elegant, residence on its banks.
His speeches savor of the particular tastes I have been descri-
bing. There is too much of the equanimity of literature about
them — too little of the ardor and impetuosity of passion
speaking viva voce. They rather resemble high- wrought aca-
demic effusions, stately, orderly, and chaste, and having also
the coldness of chastity, than the glowing eruptions of a mind
on fire, warming and illuminating whatever comes within its
range. To conclude, Mr. North is a proficient in the formal
parts of the higher order of oratory— in diction — arrange-
ment— the selection and command of topics — delivery — ac-
tion— but (to adopt some hackneyed illustrations) in the same
degree as moonlight differs from the splendor of the sun, pearl
from diamond, silver from gold, the scented and w ell-trimmed
shrubbery from the majestic forest, the placid waters of the
lake from the impetuous heavings of " old ocean," so may
he be said to fall short of first-rate excellence in the art of
speaking.

From my observations upon Mr. North's mind, neutralized
as he has permitted it to become, I should say that now his
chief strength lies in sarcasm, and in that species of humor
which consists of felicitous combinations of mock-heroic im-
agery and gorgeous diction, descriptive of the feelings and

IN PARLIAMENT.

situation of the object ridiculed; — and yet he has employed
his powers in this respect so sparingly, that I have some
doubts whether he be fully aware of their extent. I have not
heard that he gave any early indications of this talent ; and
though at first view it may appear to be at variance with the
leading propensities of his mind, I do not conceive it difficult
to account for its existence. On the contrary, it seems natural
enough that a person gifted with powers of language and ima-
gination, but of too timid a taste to risk them upon sincere and
serious trains of sentiment, should resort to ridicule, and to
that particular kind, to which I have just adverted. Such a
person feels what an awful thing it is to be accountable to a
sneering public, for the appropriateness of every generous
thought and glowing illustration into which a well-meaning
but too fervid enthusiasm may betray him. The incessant
recollection of the proximity of the ludicrous to the sublime,
appals and paralyzes him; but give him an adversary whose
motives and reasonings and language are to be travestied, and
the spell that bound his faculties is dissolved. Here, where
every exaggeration has a charm, he ventures to give full scope
to his fancy.. The very temper of mind that renders him sen-
sitive and wary when he speaks in his own person, suggests
the boldest images, and the more grotesque they are the bet-
ter, when by a rhetorical contrivance the whole responsibility
of them is, as it were, shifted upon the shoulders of another.
I would almost venture to predict, that it is this way Mr. North
will make himself most felt in the House of Commons.* He
has the classic authority of Mr. Canning, for proposing as a
subject the Duigenan redivivus of the House ; but I have my
fears that he will select a nobler mark than Master Ellis.f I

* The expectations of Mr. North's friends were by no means realized. He
did not cut a figure in Parliament, and is said to have severely and painfully
been aware of the fact. — M.

t A gentleman named Ellis, who held the office of Master in Chancery, and,
from his office, was called " Master Ellis," had been elected member for Dub-
lin, some short time previous to the publication of this sketch, and considerable
dissatisfaction was excited thereby, as it was considered next to impossible
that he could attend to his Parliamentary duties in London and his legal dutiea
in Dublin, at one and the same time. An act was subsequently pnssed extend-

262 Join*

therefore caution my Opposition friends, and especially Mr.
Hume, to be on tlieir guard.

Mr. North's exterior has nothing very striking ; his frame
is of the middle size and slender, his features small and pallid,
and unmarked by any prominent expression, save those ha-
bitual signs of exhaustion, from which so few of the occupied
members of his profession are exempt. If he were a stranger
to me, I should pass him by without observation, but, knowing
who he is, and feeling what he might be, I find his face to be
far from a blank. Upon examination, it presents an aspect
of still and steady thought fulness, with that peculiar curve
about the lips when he smiles (as he often does) which imports
a refined but too fastidious taste. When the countenance is
in repose, I fancy that I can also catch there a trace of lan-
guor, such as succeeds a course of struggles where high and
early hopes had been embarked, while a tinge of melancholy,
so slight as to be dispersed by the feeblest gleam, but still re-
turning and settling there, tells me that some and the most
cherished of them have been disappointed. I confess that I
respect Mr. North too much to regret those indications of a
secret dissatisfaction with his condition ; and more especially,
because in him they are entirely free from the ordinary fret-
fulness and acrimony of mortified ambition. He is too consid-
erate and just to wage a splenetic warfare with the world be-
cause all the bright visions of his youth have not been realized;
and he is still too young and too cautious of his capacity to be
irretrievably depressed when reminded by others or by himself,
that hitherto Fame has only spoken of him in whispers, and
that much must be done in both intellect and action, before
the glorious clang of her trumpet shall rejoice his ear.

These allusions to Mr. North's omissions as a public man,
are offered in no unfriendly spirit. If I looked upon him as an
ordinary person, I should say at once of him, that he has well

ing to Irish Masters in Chancery the prohibition of sitting in Parliament imposed
upon persons of like rank in England. Mr. Ellis was recommended to the
Church and State corporation of Dublin, solely by his illiberal opinions and in-
tolerant principles. He was a bigot in politics as well as in religion — .servitor
worthy of such masters as formed the Dublin Corporation thirty years ago. — M.

tfNPARDONABLE NEUTRALITY.

fulfilled the task assigned him. He has won his way to a re-
spectable station in a most precarious profession ; enjoys con-
siderable estimation for general talent, and is cordially honor-
ed by all who know him, for the undeviating dignity and purity
of his private life. But from those to whom much is given
much is exacted. My quarrel with Mr. North is, that living
under a system teeming with abuses, and loudly calling upon
a man of his character and abilities to interpose their influence
he should have consented to keep aloof a neutral and acquies-
cent spectator. For fifteen long years, a liberal and enlight-
ened Irishman, seeing with his own eyes what an English
barber could not read of without contempt for the nation thai
endured, and not to have left a single document of his indig-
nation ! — not a speech, not a pamphlet, not an article in a
periodical publication — not even that forlorn hope of a mal-
treated cause, a well-penned protesting resolution ! What
availed it to his country that he was known to be a friend of
toleration, if his co-operation was withheld upon every occa-
sion where his presence would have inspired confidence, and
his example have acted as a salutary incitement to others 1
What, that his theories upon the question of free discussion
were understood to be manly and just, if, after having witness-
ed the irruption of an armed soldiery into a legal meeting, and
being himself among the dispersed at the point of the bayonet,
he had the morbid patience to be silent under the affront to
the laws, paying such homage to the times as scarcely to

" Hint his abhorrence in a languid sneer."

His learning, too, his literary and philosophic stores, things so
much wanted in Ireland — where has he left a vestige of their
existence, so as to justify the most flattering of his friends in
saying to him, " You have not lived in vain, and should you
unfortunately be removed before your time, your country will
miss'you?"

This is what I complain of and deplore ; and these senti-
ments are strong in proportion to my estimate of his latent
value, and my genuine concern for the interests of his fame;
for, in the midst of rny reproaches, I see so much to admire and

JOHN HEtfRf KORTtt.

•

respect in him, lie is of so meek a carriage, and lias about him
so much of the gentleman and the scholar, that I can not divest
myself of a certain feeling of almost individual regard. Nor,
in putting the matter thus, am I aware that I make any unrea-
sonable exactions. At particular seasons, his profession, no
doubt, must demand his undivided care : but there are intervals
which, with a mind full as Mr. North's is, might have been, and
may still be, dedicated to honorable uses. There are not want-
ing contemporary precedents to show what the incidental la-
bors of a lawyer may accomplish, in science, in letters, in public
spirit. Let him look to Mr. Brougham, to the versatility of his
pursuits, and the varieties of his fame — the Courts, the House
of Commons, and the "Edinburgh Review;" to Denman, Wil-
liams, and many others of the English bar, eminent or on the
road to eminence in their profession, and patriotic and instruc-
tive in their leisure ;* or (a more pregnant instance still), let
him turn to the Scotch, those hardy and indefatigable workers
for their own and their country's renown. There is Jeffrey,
Cockburn, Cranstoun, Murray, Montcrief, great advocates ev-
ery man of them : the first the creator and responsible sustainer
of the noblest critical publication of the age ; the others ardent
and important helpmates, and all of them finding it practicable,
amid their regular and collateral pursuits, to take an active
lead in the popular assemblies of the north.t These men, whom
energy and ambition have made what they are, may be used
in other respects as a great example. Under circumstances
peculiarly adverse to all who disdained to stoop, they never
struck to the opinions of the day, but, confiding in themselves,
were as stern and uncompromising in their conduct as in their
maxims — yet are they all prosperous and respected, and for-

* The principal counsel in defence of Queen Caroline (wife of George IV.),
proceeded against by a Bill of Pains and Penalties in 1820, were Henry
Brougham, her Attorney-General ; Thomas Denman, her Solicitor-General ;
Stephen Lushington, and John Williams. The first became Lord Brougham,
and Lord Chancellor of England; the second, Lord Denman, Chief Justice of
the King's Bench ; the third, Judge of the Consistory and Admiralty Court!
(which he still is) ; and the last (now dead) one of the puisne Judges. — M.

t All of these eminent lawyers subsequently became Judges in Scotland — of
Lords of Session, as they are called. — M.

THE SAtRlN DYNASTY. 265

midable to all by whom a high-spirited man would desire to
be feared.

I see but one plausible excuse for the course of political qui-
etude to which Mr. North so perseveringly adhered, and in
fairness I should not suppress it. It was his fate to have com-
menced his career under the Saurin dynasty. Things are
something better now ; but, some twelve or fifteen years ago,
wo betided the patriotic wight of the dominant creed who
should venture to whisper to the public that all was not un-
questionable wisdom and justice in the ways of that potent and
inscrutable gentleman ! The opposition of a Catholic was far
less resented. The latter was a condemned spirit, shorn of all
effective strength, and was suffered to flounder away impotent
and unheeded in the penal abyss; but for a Protestant, and,
more than all, a Protestant barrister, to question the infinite
perfection of the Attorney-General's dispensations, was mon-
strous, blasphemous, and punishable — and punished the cul-
prit was. All the loyal powers of the land sprang with in-
stinctive co-operation to avenge the outrage upon their chief
and themselves. The loyal gates of the Castle were slapped
in his face. The loyal club to which he claimed admission,
buried his pretensions under a shower of black-beans. The
loyal attorney suspected his competency, and withheld his con-
fidence. The loyal discounter declined to respect his name
upon a bill. The loyal friend, as he passed him in the streets,
exchanged the old, familiar, cordial greeting, for a penal nod.
In every quarter, in every way, it was practically impressed
upon him that Irish virtue must be its own reward. Even the,
women, those soothers of the cares of life, whose approbation/
an eminent French philosopher has classed among the most*
powerful incentives to heroical exertion — even they, merging!
the charities of their sex in their higher duties to the state, vol-
unteered their services as avenging angels. The teapot trem-
bled in the hand of the loyal matron as she poured forth its
contents, and along with it her superfine abhorrence of th«
low-lived incendiary ; while the fair daughters of ascendency
groupec} around, admitted his delinquency with a responsive
shudder, and vowed in their pretty souls to make his cliarac-

VOL. I. — 12

JOUtt HENKY

ter, whenever it should come across them, feel the bitter conse-
quences of his political aberrations. All this was formidable
enough to common men. Mr. North was strong enough to have
faced and vanquished it. Instead of fearing to provoke the
persecuting spirit of the times, he might have securely wel-
comed it as the most unerring evidence of his importance.

Having said so much, I am bound to add that the foregoing
observations have not the remotest reference to Mr. North's
conduct at the bar. There he is entitled to the highest praise,
and I give it heartily, for his erect and honorable deportment
in the public and (an equal test of an elevated spirit) in the
private details of his profession. The most conspicuous occa-
sion upon which he has yet appeared was on the trial of the
political rioters at the Dublin theatre.* It was altogether a
singular scene — presenting a fantastic medley of combinations
and contradictions, such as nothing but the shuffling of Irish
events could bring together: a band of inveterate loyalists
brought to the bar of justice for a public outrage upon the per-
son of the King's representative ; an Attorney-General prose-
cuting on behalf of one part of the state, and the other exulting
with all their souls at the prospect of his failure ; a popular
Irish bench ; an acquitting Irish jury ; and, finally, the profes-
sional confidant of the Orange Lodges — the chosen defender
of their acts and doctrines, Mr. North. It would be difficult
to conceive a more perplexing office. He discharged it, how-
ever, with great talent and (what I apprehend was less ex-
pected) consummate boldness. As a production of eloquence,
his address to the jury contained no specimens of first-rate ex-

* When the Marquis Wellesley was made Viceroy of Ireland, in 1821, the
liberality of his opinions and his known desire that the Roman Catholic disa-
bilities should be removed rendered him obnoxious to the " Protestant Ascen-
dency" or Corporation and Orange party. Some ruffians belonging to thia
party threw a bottle at Lord Wellesley, in Dublin theatre, and bills of indict-
ment were preferred against certain persons apprehended on a charge of com-
pjj.city in this affair. The Grand Jury (also Orange) ignored the bills. The
Government lawyer then proceeded ez-officio — a course wholly independent
of grand juries — but got frightened, as the trial approached, and the charge
fell to th? ground, thereby giving a great triumph to the Corporation and their
Wtellites. — M.

ms CAPABILITIES. 267

cellence, but many that were not far below it ; wliile bis gen
eral line of argument, and bis manner of conducting it, gave
signs of a spirit and power from winch I would infer, that,
should State Trials unfortunately become frequent in Ireland
during his continuance at the bar, he is destined to make no
inconsiderable figure as a leading counsel for the defences.
The Williamites were grateful for the effort, and greeted their
successful advocate with enthusiastic cheers on his exit from
the Court. This was, I believe, the only public homage of the
kind that Mr. North had ever received ; and, however welcome
at the moment, could scarcely fail to be followed by a senti-
ment of sadness, when he reflected upon the untowardness of
the fate which doomed his name to be for the first time exalted
to the skies on the yell of a malignant faction that he must
have detested and despised.

The preceding views of Mr. North's intellectual characteris-
tics were formed, and in substance committed to paper, before
his recent appearance in the House of Commons.* Since that
event I have seen nothing calling on me to retract or qualify
my first impressions. If the effect which he produced then
was not all that had been expected, I attribute it far less to
any deficiency of general power, than to that want of energy
and directness of purpose, which is the besetting infirmity of
his mind. Let him but emancipate himself (and he has shown
that he can do so) from the petty drags that have heretofore
impeded his course, and he may yet become distinguished to
his heart's content, and, what is better, eminently useful to his
country. He has the means, and nothing can be more propi-
tious than the period. Irish questions press upon the Parlia-
ment; upon the most vital of them (the Catholic) he thinks
with the just, and will not fail to make a stand. Upon the oth-
ers he can be, what is most wanting in that House, a fearless
witness. Wherever he interposes, the purity of his personal
character — his position with the Government — even the neu-
trality of his former course, will give him weight and credit.
Nor (as far as his ambition is concerned) will services thus
rendered be unrewarded. So prostrate is the pride of Ireland.

* This sketch appeared in November, 1824. — M.

268 JOHN HENRY NORTH.

that she no longei exacts from her public men a haughty vin-
dication of her rights. In these times a temperate mediator is
hailed as a patriot. This Mr. North can be ; but to be so with
effect, he must distinguish better than he has yet done between
false complaisance and a manly moderation. He must give
way to no mistaken feelings of political charity toward a gen-
eration of sinners, whom flattery will never bring to repent-
ance. If he praise the country-gentlemen of Ireland again,
until they do something to deserve it, I shall be seriously
alarmed for his renown.

THOMAS WALLACE.

MR. WALLACE is in several respects a remarkable man. He
has for many years held an eminent station in Lis profession,
and is pre-eminently entitled to the self-gratulation of reflect-
ing, that his success has been of that honorable kind in which
neither accident nor patronage had any share. Of his early
life and original prospects I have heard little, beside the fact
that, in his youth, he found himself alone in the world, without
competence or connections, and with merely the rudiments <ff
general knowledge ; and that under these disheartening cir-
cumstances, instead of acquiescing in the obscurity to which
he was apparently doomed, he formed, and for years persevered
in a solitary plan of self-instruction, until, feeling his courage
and ambition increased by the result of the experiments he
had made upon himself, and measuring his strength with the
difficulties to be encountered, he rejected the temporary
allurements of any more ignoble calling ; and, with a boldness
and self-reliance which the event has justified, decided upon
the Bar as the most suited to his pretensions.

With this view, and with a patient determination of purpose
which is among the most trying exercises of practical philos-
ophy, he qualified himself for Trinity College, and entering
there, gave himself (what was probably his chief motive in
submitting to the delay) the reputation of having received a
regular and learned education. He was called to the Bar in
1798, where his talents soon bringing him into notice, he ad-
vanced at a gradual and steady pace to competence, then on to
affluence, and finally to the conspicuous place which he now
fills iu the Irish courts. He obtained a silk gown about

270 THOMAS WALLACE.

seven years ago* — a period beyond which it could not, with
out consummate injustice, have been withheld ; but he was
known to have connected himself, in his political sympathies,
with Mr. Grattan and the friends of Ireland ; t and this, ac-
cording to the maxims by which the country was then govern-
ed, was an unanswerable reason for procrastinating to the
latest moment his title to precedency.

Mr. Wallace's intellectual qualities are in many particulars
such as might be inferred from his history. In his character,
as developed by his early life, we find none of the peculiarities
of his country — no mercurial vivacity — no movements of an
impatient and irregular ambition — but rather the composed
and dogged ardor of a Scotchman, intent upon his distant ob-
ject of fame and profit, and submitting, without a murmur, to
the fatigues and delays through which it must be approached.
In the same way it may be said of his mind, that it has little

* In 1819 — this sketch appeared in July, 1826. — M.

** t Grattan was, par excellence, the most liberal man in Ireland — devoting
over forty years of his public life to the cause of national independence and the
advancement of civil and religious liberty. He was not always popular, though
Ireland gave him fifty thousand pounds sterling for his services in 1782. Flood
insinuated that he had betrayed his country for gold, and was " a mendicant
patriot who, for prompt payment, had sold himself to the Minister." Lord
Clare denounced him as " an infernal democrat." The Corporation of Cork
voted that the street, which had been named Grattan street, should in future ,
be called Duncan street. The Dublin Corporation, who had graced their hall
with his portrait, tore it down from the wall, and received a motion that he be
expelled from their body. Out of this an incident arose : There was a parlia-
mentary contest for Dublin, in 1803, and Sir Jonah Barrington was a popular
candidate. Grattan went up to vote for him, and was objected to as one who
bad been expelled the corporation. A violent Ascendency man, named John
Gifford (whose son, Doctor Gifford, is the able Editor of the London Standard),
made the objection. When silence was restored, Grattan thus denounced him:
" Mr. Sheriff, when I observe the quarter whence the objection comes, I am
not surprised at its being made. It proceeds from the hired traducer of his
country — the excommunicated of his fellow-citizens — the regal rebel — the
unpunished ruffian — the bigoted agitator! In the city, a firebrand — in the
court, a liar — in the streets, a bully — in the field, a coward! So obnoxious
is he to the very party he wishes to espouse, that he is only supportable by
doing those dirty acts the less vile refuse to execute." — This was a pretty
strong use of the vernacular. When the roll of voters was examined, it showed
that Grattan's name was never erased, so he voted far his friend. — M..

HIS PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 271

or nothing that is strictly national. The forms in which it
excels are purely abstract, and would come as appropriately
from a native of any other country. It is as an advocate (as
contradistinguished from a mere lawyer), that he has been
most successful ; and here the characteristic quality of his style
and manner, or rather, the compound result of all the qualities
that belong to him professionally and individually, is masculine
energy. He is emphatically "the strong man." There is,'
at all times, and on all occasions, an innate, constitutional, \,
imposing vigor, in his topics, language, tones, and gestures ;
all co-operating to a common end, and keeping for ever alive
in his auditory the conviction that they are listening to a
singularly able-minded man.

This impression is aided by his general aspect. His face,
without a particle of pedantic solemnity, is full of seriousness
and determination. Whatever of lofty or refined emotion
may belong to the individual, never settles upon his counte-
nance, and equally absent is every trace of sentimental dis-
content : but you find there a rigid, statue-like stability of
expression, importing consciousness of strength and immobility
of purpose, and suggesting to those who know his history and
character an early and deliberate preparation for the world's
frown, and a determination to retort it. His features, though
remarkably in unison with the intellectual and moral charac-
ters impressed upon them, have few physical peculiarities that
can be conveyed by description. They are of the hardy
Celtic outline, are evidently composed of the most durable
materials, and still retain all the compactness and rotundity
of early youth. His frame, though little above the middle
size, presents the same character of vigor and durability, and
contributes its due proportion toward completing that general
idea of strength, which I have selected as most descriptive of
the entire man. The more stern attributes, however, that I
have ascribed to him, refer exclusively to the individual, as 1
have seen him in the discharge of his public duties. In the
intercourse of private life he is, according to universal report,
of the most frank and familiar manners, an extremely attractive
companion, and, what is better still, a warm and constant friend,

272 THOMAS WALLACE.

Considering, as I do, Mr. Wallace's mind to be in its original
constitution what may be denominated one of all-work, I
should say of it, that among the multiform and dissimilar
departments of intellectual exercise involved in the profession
of the law, there was scarcely any for which he could not have
provided a corresponding aptitude of faculty. His powers
have, however, been very much confined to those classes of
cases in which facts, rather than legal doctrines, are the
subject-matter of investigation. This may have been partly
accidental ; for, at the Irish bar, it is not only a matter of
chance whether the individual is to succeed at all, but chance,
in the majority of instances, determines the particular facul-
ties that must be developed and permanently cultivated for
the purpose. There the aspirant for professional eminence
can not, as in England, select a particular department, and
make it the subject of his exclusive study.* One comes to
the scene of exertion, relying upon his stores of learned re-
. search and his capacity for the solitary labors of the desk—-
but the necessity of taking whatever business is offered, throws
him into a totally dissimilar line. He becomes a nisi-prius
or motion lawyer, upon compulsion ; strains his lungs in open
court, to a pitch that neither nature nor himself had ever de-
signed; and ascertaining by experience that this is to be his
way of " getting on," resigns his original studies as unpro-
ductive toil, and concludes a prosperous career, without having
ever given an opinion upon a title, or settled the draft of a deed
of assignment.

Another starts upon the strength of his oral qualifications.
Full of confidence and ardor, and fired with admiration of
preceding models, he is all for eloquence — and eloquence of the
highest order. He studies black-letter, and technicalities as a
painful effort, but his cordial meditations are over the defence
of Milo, and the immortal productions of the Athenian school.

* At the Irish as at the American bar, the lawyer takes all business that
comes to him — whether Nisi Prius, criminal, equity, mercantile, ecclesias-
tical, or civil, not declining special pleading and conveyancing. In England,
the lawyer usually limits himself to one line, on which he concentrates his
attention and abilities. The natural result is that one practice maUes good gen
eral and vhe other produces eminent special lawyers, — M.

JUDGE BURTON. 273

In his ambitious reveries, he sees before him a brilliant per-
spective of popular occasions, with the usual accompaniments
of crowded galleries, spell-bound juries, an admiring bench, an
applauding bar — but let him take heed. It is at all times in
the power of two or three friendly attorneys, who are in any
business, to get him into Chancery, and keep him there, and
with the best intentions imaginable (if he only prove compe-
tent to the tasks assigned, him) to blast his fame for eloquence
for ever.*

It does not, however, appear to me, that Mr. Wallace is one
of those to whom any cross-purposes of this kind have assigned
a final destination that can be reasonably lamented. The
cases in which he is in most request, are, perhaps, those in
which he was originally, and still continues more peculiarly
fitted to excel.

Judging of him from his professional attributes and his col-
lateral pursuits, I am led to infer that the early and strongest
propensity of his mind was for the discovery of truth ; or in other
words, that he was more of the philosopher than the sophist;
and it will, I apprehend, be generally found true, that such an
intellect, however competent to seize, is less prone to retain

* I could cite more than one example of persons, whose talents for public-
speaking have been thus suppressed. I know of only one exception ; or to speak
more stiictly, of an instance of very uncommon powers of oratory, breaking out
long after the enthusiasm of youth had passed away, and in despite of a long sub-
jection to habits of an opposite tendency. It was that of an Englishman, the
present Mr. Justice Burton. He had been disciplined in all the severity of his
native school, and forced his way at the Irish bar, entirely by his legal superi-
ority. It was only, when in the regular course of seniority he came to address
Junes, that it was first discovered by others, and probably by himself, that there
lay in the depths of his mind a mine of rich materials that had never been ex-
plored. To the last he had to dig for them. For the first half hour he was noth-
ing ; it took him that time to reconnoitre his subject, and get thoroughly heated :
after that he was — not an accomplished speaker — for he never affected the
externals of oratory — but in its great essentials — unity of purpose, and bold,
rapid, and impassioned reasoning, enforced by the vigorous practical tones and
gestures of real life — possessor of an energy, that at times, and often for a long
time together, was quite Demosthenic. [Charles Burton, late one of the puisne
Judges of the Queen's Bench in Ireland, was induced to leave the English for
the Irish bar by Curran, and merited all the praise here given him. l\&
died in December, 1847, aged 87, much lamented. — M.]

12*

274:

THOMAS WALLACE.

and manage, a large mass of the multiform propositions of
English law, where the terms in most familiar use are often
subtile deductions from distant principles that are no longer
visible to those who employ the terms with most effect; and
where, in fact, the process of argumentation may be likened
to the working of an algebraic equation, in which the final
result is ascertained by the juxtaposition of signs rather than
by a comparison of ideas. He has also indulged in too con-
stant a sympathy with the concerns of general humanity, to
have ever shrunk into a mere technical proficient. To form
the true " Leguteius, cautus atque acutus" a man must make up
his mind to remain for years and years profoundly indifferent
to all that passes beyond the precincts of his immediate calling.
He must take the course of legislation as he would the course
of the stars, as things above him ; and never venture, even in
his most private reflections, to pry into the policy of an Act of
Parliament, saving so far as the preamble may be pleased to
enlighten or perplex him on that point. If questions on the
Currency rage around him, he must take no part, except in
hoping that the decision will not diminish the exchangeable
value of the counsel's fee. If he chances to hear that a bog
has burst from its moorings, or that a blazing comet threatens
to pounce upon our planet, he must leave them to be treated
of by the curious in such matters, and go on with his medita-
tions over a special demurrer. He must bring himself, in
short, to take no interest, direct or indirect, in aught that does
not come home to his learned self. His bag must be to him
the true sign of the times; and as long as it continues in high
condition, he is to rest satisfied that human affairs must be
running a prosperous career.

Mr. Wallace has, however, found constant and profitable
occupation in a branch of his profession, where a proficiency
does not involve a corresponding waste of sensibility. He is
in high repute in jury cases, and still more in those cases
where issues of fact come under the investigation of the court,
upon the sworn statements of the parties and their witnesses.
It was said of the celebrated Malonej that to be judged of, ho
/ frould be heard addressing " a jury of twelve wise men ;" aiitJ

AS AN ADVOCATE. 275

certainly when I consider the eminent qualifications of Mr.
Wallace, distinguished as he is for a solid and comprehensive
judgment; for manly sagacity rather than captious subtilty in
argument ; for the talent (and here he peculiarly excels) of
educing an orderly, lucid, and consistent statement out of a
chaotic assemblage of intricate and conflicting facts; for his
knowledge of human nature, both practical and metaphysical,
and, along with these, for the sustained and authoritative force
of his language and delivery, which operate as a kind of per-
sonal warranty for the soundness of every topic he advances;
I should say that the most fitting place for the exhibition of
such powers would be before such a tribunal as the admirers
of Malone would have assigned him ; but a tribunal, so consti-
tuted, is not to be found. The most discriminating of Irish
sheriffs would be somewhat puzzled in his efforts to empannel
a round dozen of special sages in a jury-box; but though wis-
dom in such numerical force is not to be met with, there is a
tribunal in Ireland (a novelty perhaps) filled by persons, who
for knowledge, intellect, and impartiality, may, without exag-
geration, be denominated " four wise men," and who are most
frequently called upon to serve as jurors in that description of
cases in which Mr. Wallace's professional superiority is most
acknowledged.* Those cases (in technical parlance called
" heavy motions") are more numerous in the Court of King's
Bench, partly from its exclusive jurisdiction, as a court of
criminal law, and also in no small degree from its present
constitution, and the consequent influx of general business, by
which the public confidence in its adjudications is unequivo-
cally declared.

* Mr. Cumin, on one occasion, was trying a case before Lord Avonmore
and a stupid Dublin Jury, by whom his best flights of eloquence and wit were
wholly unappreciated. Addressing them, with a side glance at the Judge, he
(Jtated that Hesiod, a famous Greek historian, had exactly expressed his views,
and quoted two lines of Latin ! " Why, Mr. Cui-ran," said the Judge, " Hesiod V
was a poet not an historian, and the lines you quote are not Greek but Latin : \
they occur in Juvenal." Curran contended that they were Greek, and the dis- /
•nite grew warm. At last, Curran said, "Well, my lord, I see we must disa-
gree. If it were a matter of law, I should bow to your lordship's opinion, but \
it is one of fact, and rests with the Jury to decide. Let us send it up as collat-
fi-dl issue to the Jury, and I'll be bound that they will — jind it Greek,'" — ^,

276 THOMAS WALLACE.

It is accordingly in this court that Mr. Wallace, in his ordi-
nary every-day manner, as an advocate, may be heard to most
advantage. His skill in dissecting a knavish affidavit is ad-
mirable, and renders him the terror of all knavish deponents
upon whom he may have to operate. The exhibition is often
amusing enough to a disinterested spectator. The party whose
conscience is to undergo the ordeal of a public scrutiny, may
be seen seated by his attorney ; his countenance at first glow-
ing with a defensive smirk of self-complacent defiance, but
manifesting, as the investigation into his candor and veracity
proceeds, the most marvellous varieties of hue and expression.
An inconsistency or two are pointed out, and his smile of an-
ticipated triumph gradually degenerates into a sub-acid sneer.
A fraudulent suppression is next put up, and then he begins to
look at his attorney ; and, finding no refuge there, to look
very grave. The counsel proceeds, inexorably accurate in his
detections, and caustic in his comments. Our worthy deponent
begins now to tremble for his reputation, and not without
reason ; for down come upon it a succession of mortal blows,
every one of which the listening crowd, who desire no better
sport, pronounce, by a malignant buzz, to have been " a palpa-
ble hit." This quickly brings on the final stage. Our hero,
" according to the very best of his knowledge, information,
and belief," is mortified and wrathful in the extreme. He
starts and frowns and shifts his posture, and compresses his
lips, and clenches his fists : he would give worlds (so at least
says his eye ; and I would believe it as soon as his affidavit)
to have just one blow at the head of his merciless torturer, or
to tell him in open court that he is a calumniator and an assas-
sin. He is on the point of committing some extravagance,
when his attorney throws in a word or two of cool advice, to
prevent his rage from boiling over, arrd the paroxysm gradu-
ally works itself to rest in silent vows of indefinite vengeance,
or in sotto-voce murmurings of impotent vituperation.

In such cases as the preceding, the severity of Mr. Wallace's
animadversions is forgotten with the occasion; but when, in
the discharge of his duty, he has been impelled to be equally
Unceremonious in his comments upon litigants of a higher

LICENSE OF TflE BAR. 277

order, murmurs have arisen, and questions been started as to
what are or ought to be the privileges of a barrister, in arraign-
ing the conduct and motives of the parties to whom he is
opposed. The irritated suitor of course exclaims against a
license under which he has smarted, as an intolerable griev-
ance, and in general finds many sufficiently disposed to join
in his indignation; but no disinterested person, acquainted
with human nature as developed in the course of our legal
proceedings, and considering alone the ends of justice, can
easily bring himself to desire that the privileges complained
of should be in any way abridged. The law makes a counsel
personally responsible for any injurious observations upon the
characters of individuals not warranted by his instructions ;
and that those limits are seldom exceeded may be collected
from the fact, that actions for slander of this description are
unheard-of in practice. But if his instructions are manifestly
libellous, is he not under a paramount moral obligation to
suppress the obnoxious matter ? or is every just and honorable
feeling of the gentleman to be merged in the conventional
character of the barrister? The answer is : — A counsel can
not tell whether his instructions be true or false ; and though
they should lean heavily upon an individual of previously
unblemished reputation, he is not on that account to take it
for granted that they are calumnious.

It is a matter of daily experience, that litigation makes I
strange discoveries in the characters of men. Persons of un-y
suspected integrity no sooner become plaintiffs or defendants
in a cause, than, blinded by self-interest, or inflamed with the
silly desire of obtaining a victory, they are found resorting to
every knavish artifice to establish an unjust or resist an equi-
table demand. How, then, in any given case alleged to be of
this description, can the counsel assure himself beforehand
that the result will falsify his instructions ? Is he, in defiance
of them, to be incredulous and. forbearing ; and from his
conjectural doubts and misgivings, to put forward a statement,
so tame and wary as to deprive his client of the benefit of that
honest indignation in the court or jury, which the real facts
of the case might justify ?

4 '

THOMAS

The present Chief-Justice Best* once said, in conversation;
of a barrister : " That man is unfit to conduct a case at the
Quarter Sessions : he believes what his client tells him."
There is equal truth in the converse of the proposition. A
barrister, who should make it a rule to act upon the disbelief
of what his client tells him, would prove equally incompetent.
But still, it is constantly urged, the privilege thus contended
for produces much unwarrantable vituperation. To this it may
be replied, tlrat custom has given to language a peculiar, qual-
ified forensic sense, just as it has a Parliamentary one ; and
that, thus understood, the invectives of counsel are purely
hypothetical, and go for nothing, unless corroborated in proof
and sanctioned by a verdict. If cleverly thrown off, they may
for the moment gratify the bystanders, or ruffle the temper of
the party against whom they are directed — but they leave
no stain upon his reputation, if twelve men upon their oaths
pronounce him to be an honest man. The " daggers" that a
counsel "talks," are merely weapons handed up to the jury-
box : if any of them draw blood, the jury must strike the blow.
And it may be further observed, that this latitude of speech
is indirectly of no small service to the ends of justice, by the
terrors it holds out to persons who would have no compunction
in speculating upon the chances of fraudulent litigation, but
are sufficiently worldly and sensitive to shrink from a public
and unrestrained exposure of their iniquity.

In judging of an Irish barrister's capacity for the higher
orders of forensic eloquence, it is but just to remember, that
in that country great occasions are extremely rare ; and hence,

* William Draper Best was educated at Oxford, called to the bar in 1789,
rose into good practice, became Sergeant-at-Law in 1800, and soon after was
made Chief-Justice of Wales and Solicitor-General. In 1802, he entered Parlia-
ment, where he voted on the liberal side. In 1819, he was knighted and
placed on the bench as one of the Justices of the King's Bench, and in 1824,
was made Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, ^which he resigned in 1825,
when he was called to the House of Lords. He was a good advocate, a skil-
ful lawyer, an indifferent legislator, an inconsistent politician, and occasionally
BO partial on his summing-up as to be called the " Judge-Advocate." He waa
yery irritable while on lie bench, owing to bodily disease. — M.

RlOt.

ho doubt, a habit tliat prevails there of speculating upon the
effects that particular individuals would produce, were they
'only supplied with opportunities commensurate with their
powers. It was thus when the Queen's case was raging, that
the national pride of the Irish bar broke out in vain regrets that
one of their Crown officers, a man of surpassing qualification?
for the conduct of such a cause, should not have been afforded
such an opportunity of rising to the highest summit of what I
may call the conjectural fame that he enjoyed in his profession.
They pictured to themselves Charles Kendal Bushe, appearing
at the bar of the House of Peers, as the presiding counsel for
the Crown upon the trial of that imperial issue, and uniting
to every solid requisite for the discharge of such a duty, a
collection of peculiar attributes, that seemed as if expressly
designed for swaying the decision of such a tribunal on such
AH occasion. They saw him there with his matured profes-
sional skill and chastened eloquence — his fine imposing pres-
ence— his rich, sonorous voice — his masterly powers of coun-
tenance, whether he spoke or listened — his profound, unre-
mitting by-play, now refuting by an indignant start, now
enforcing by a moral shudder — his elevated courage, and nat-
ural grace of gesture, tone, sentiment, and diction, in not one
of which the most finished courtier of them all could have
detected a provincialism. Considering all these, and the sub-
ject, and the auditory, the admirers of this eminent and ac-
complished person completed (and perhaps not unjustifiably)
the ideal picture, by representing to themselves as the final
issue, the torrent of popular indignation successfully stemmed,
and the imperial diadem wrested from the brow of the royal
defendant.

A similar feeling prevailed among many with respect to Mr.
Wallace, upon the occasion of the only political case of any
moment that has in latter years occurred in Ireland — the
trial of the rioters at the Dublin theatre. It was one of the
singularities of that case, that the popular feeling was all on
the side of the prosecution, and that, with the exception of
the Attorney-General [Plunketj, none of the counsel for the
Crown were animated by a warmer sentiment than a determi-

280 THOMAS

nation to perform an unwelcome duty. Tliat duty the Solicitor
General [Joy], who spoke to the evidence, performed with
legal ability and unquestioned integrity. No one could accuse
him of the insidious suppression of any doctrine or argument
that bore upon the case ; but it was impossible for him to be
eloquent. All his passions and prejudices were against his
cause, and he had not the flexibility of temper to assume a
tone of indignant energy of which he was unconscious. It is,
therefore, easy to account for the general wish that such a man
as Mr. Wallace had supplied his place. He would not have
allowed himself to have been entrammelled by any personal
or official restraints, but, giving the fullest scope to all his
powers, and superadding his authoritative denunciations as
an individual to his invectives as an advocate, would have
the jury feel (and this was what was wanted) that they were
themselves upon their trial, and must be held by the public to
be accomplices in the factious proceeding against which they
should hesitate to pronounce a verdict of conviction.

The personal determination of character and practical effi-
ciency of talent for which Mr. Wallace is so distinguished,
have been confined almost exclusively to his professional exer-
tions; but the mention of those qualities brings to my recol-
lection one rather memorable occasion upon which they were
called into action, and with a suddenness of result that can
not be duly appreciated by any who were not actual witnesses
of the scene. In the beginning of the year 1819, the friends
of the Catholic cause, considering that the time had arrived
when the sense of the Protestant inhabitants of the Irish
metropolis might be safely taken upon their question, deter-
mined, after much anxious deliberation, that a public meeting
of that portion of the community should be convened for the
purpose of recording their sentiments in the form of a petition
to Parliament for Emancipation. Though pretty confident of
success, they foresaw that the Orange faction would rise en
masse, to interpose every kind of obstruction to so new and
obnoxious an experiment. To prevent this, or, at the worst,
to be prepared for it, preliminary measures were taken for
giving the proposed assemblage every possible degree of

CATttOLlO MEETING. £81

popular, and even of aristocratic eclat. The attendance of the
Duke of Leinster and several other peers was secured. The
name of Grattan stood at the head of a list of patriotic com-
moners. To these were added some leading men from the Bar,
and many persons of opulence and weight from the commercial
classes.

Such a mass of respectability, it was hoped, would protect
the meeting from any factions obstruction ; but among the
precautionary arrangements, there was one conspicuous nov-
elty that inevitably provoked it. The Lord-Mayor of Dublin
(Alderman M'Kenny*), with a courage that did him infinite
honor, consented to call the meeting, and take the chair. The
Rotunda was fixed upon as the most convenient place for
assembling; and it had the farther attraction of being, from
its associations with the memory of the old volunteers of Ire-
land, a kind of consecrated ground for civil purposes. But
the offence was commensurate. That a chief magistrate of the
city of Dublin, the corporation's "own anointed," should be
so lost to all sense of monopoly and intolerance, as to give
the sanction of his presence at such a pla«e, on such an occa-
sion, was an innovation of too perilous example to pass
unpunished. The aldermanic body quivered with indigna-
tion; the Common Council foamed with no common rage ; the
corporate sensibilities of the minor guilds burst forth in vows
and projects of active vengeance. Before the appointed day
arrived, it was matter of notoriety in Dublin, that a formidable
plan of counteraction had been matured, and was to be put
into execution.

On the morning of the meeting, some of the principal requi-
sitionists assembled at Charlemont house to make the necessary
arrangements for the business of the day. They continued
there until it was announced that the Lord-Mayor had arrived,
and was ready to take the chair, when they proceeded through
the adjoining gardens of Rutland square, toward one of the
back-entrances of the Rotunda. There was something pecu-
liarly dispiriting in their appearance, as they slowly and

* Thomas M'Kenny, born July, 1770 ; created a baronet, September, 1831 ;
Hod October, 1849. — M.

WALtACfe.

silently wound along the narrow walks, more like a funeral
procession than a body of men proceeding to bear a part in
a patriotic ceremony ; but every sentiment of popular ardor
was chilled by the apprehension that an effort, from which the
most beneficial results had been anticipated, might terminate
in a scene of disgraceful tumult.

Even the presence of Grattan, who was in the midst of them,
had lost its old inspiring influence. His name, his figure, his
venerable historic features, his very dress — a threadbare blue
surtout, of the old Whig-club uniform, buttoned closely up to
the chin, and giving him something of the air of a veteran
warrior : all these recalled the great national scenes with
which his genius and fame were identified. But the more
vivid the recollection, the more powerful the present contrast.
The despondency of age and of declining health had rested
upon his countenance. Instead of the rapid and impatient
movements with which, in the days of his pride and strength,
he had been wont to advance to the contest, launching de-
fiance from his eye, and unconsciously muttering to himself,
as he paced alon^f, some fragments of his impending har-
angue, all was now tardiness, and silence, and quietude, even
to collapse.

As they approached the building, the cheer ings of the multi-
tude within burst forth through the open windows. The well-
known sound for a moment roused the veteran orator ; but
the impression was evanescent. There was no want of excite-
ment in the spectacle within. Upon entering the grand room
of the Rotunda, they found about four thousand persons, the
majority of them red-hot Irish politicians, congregated within
its walls. The group I have described made, their way to the
raised platform, upon which the Lord-Mayor had just taken
the chair, and where a vacant space upon his right had been
reserved for them. The left was occupied by a detachment
from the Corporation, headed by a formidable Alderman.

The Lord-Mayor opened the business of the day by reading
the requisition, and explaining his reasons for having called
the meeting. " Murmurs on the left," in the midst of which
up rose the leader of the civic host to commence the precoa

A btSOftDERLY MEETING.

certed plan of operations. Without preface or apology, lie
called upon tlie chairman to dissolve the meeting. He cau-
tioned him, as the preserver of the public peace, not to perse-
vere in a proceeding so pregnant with dangers to the tranquil-
lity of the city. Let him only look at the assemblage before
him, which had been most unadvisedly brought together under
the sanction of his name, and reflect, before it was too late,
upon the frightful consequences that must ensue, when their
passions should come to be heated by the discussions of topics
of the most irritating nature. Was it for this that the loyal
citizens of Dublin had raised him to his present high trust? Was

it to preside over scenes of riot, perhaps of " Here the

worthy alderman was interrupted, according to his expecta-
tions, by tumultuous cries " to order." A friend from the left
rushed forward to sustain him ; a member of the opposite
party jumped upon the platform to call him to order, and was
in his turn called to order by a corporator.

Thus it continued until half a dozen questions of order were
at once before the chair, and as many persons simultaneously
bellowing forth their respective rights to an exclusive hearing.
To put an end to the confusion, the chairman consented to
take the sense of the meeting on a motion for an adjournment,
and having put the question, declared (as was the fact) that
an immense majority of voices was against it. This was de-
nied by the left side, who insisted that regular tellers should
be appointed. A proposition, at once so unnecessary and im-
practicable, revealed their real object, and was received with
bursts of indignation; but they persevered, and a scene of ter-
rific uproar ensued. It continued so loud and long, that those
who surrounded the chair became seriously alarmed for the
result. They saw before them four thousand persons, inflamed
by passion, and immured within a space from which a speedy
exit was impossible. In addition to the general excitation,
violent altercations between individuals were already commen-
cing in remoter quarters of the meeting, and if a single blow
should be struck, the day must inevitably terminate in blood-
shed.

At this moment, when the tumult was at its height, two fig

284- THOMAS -WALLACE.

ures particularly attracted attention; — the first from its in-
trinsic singularity — it was that of a noted city brawler (hia
name I now forget) who had contrived to perch himself aloft
upon a kind of elevated scaffolding that projected from the
loyal corner of the platform. He was a short, sturdy, half-
dwarfish, ominous-looking caitiff, with those peculiar propor-
tions, as to both person and features, which, without being
actually deformed, seem barely to have escaped deformity.
There was a certain extra-natural lumpish confirmation about
his neck and shoulders, which gave the idea that the materials
composing them must have been originally intended for a
hump; while his face was of that specific, yet non-descript
kind, which is vulgarly called a phiz — broad, flat, and sal-
low, with glaring eyes, pug nose, thickish lips, and around
them a circle of jet-black (marking the region of the beard)
which neither razor nor soap could efface.

The demeanor of this phenomenon, who brandished a crab-
stick as notorious in Dublin as himself, and wore his hat with
its narrow upturned brim inclined to one side (the Irish sym-
bol of being ready for a row) was so impudent and grotesque
as to procure for him at intervals the undivided notice of the
assembly. His corporation friends let fly a jest at him, and
were answered by a grin from ear to ear. This was sure to
be followed by a compact full-bodied hiss from another quar-
ter of the meeting, and instantaneous was the transition in his
countenance, from an expression of buffoonish archness to one
of almost maniacal ferocity. This " comical miscreant,"* con-
temptible as he would have been for any other purpose, proved
a most effective contributor to the scene of general .disturb-
ance. Apart, at the opposite extremity of the platform, in
view of this portent, and exposed to his grimaces and ribald
vociferations, sat Henry Grattan, a silent and dejected spec-
tator of the turmoil that raged around him. The contrast was
at once striking and afflicting, presenting, as it were, a visible

* This was a phrase taken from speeches and letters of O'Connell, in 1825,
-during a dispute with Cobbett, in which a great deal of abuse passed on both
sides. O'Connell had rather the best of the quarrel, his vocabulary of stinging
adjectives being very large indeed. — M.

BIS LITEKAEY PURSUITS. 28«.

type of the condition of liis country, in the triumph of vulgai
and fanatical clamor over all the efforts of a long life, exclu
sively devoted to her redemption.

But to resume: — The confusion continued, and the symp-
toms of impending riot were becoming momentarily mor<
alarming, when Mr. Wallace (to whom it is full time to return,
had the merit of averting such a crisis. In a short interval
of diminished uproar, one of the most prominent of the dis-
turbers was again on his legs, and recommencing, for the tenth
or twentieth time, a disorderly address to the chair, when Mr.
Wallace, who had not previously interfered, started up from
his seat beside the chairman, advanced toward the speaker,
and called Mm to order. The act itself was nothing — the
tone and manner everything. There was in the latter a stern,
determined, almost terrific energy, which commanded imme-
diate and universal silence. In a few brief sentences, he de-
nounced the palpable design that had been formed to obstruct
the proceedings, exposed the illegal and indecent artifices that
had been resorted to, and insisted that the parties who were
dissatisfied with the decision of the chair on the question of
adjournment, should forthwith conform to the established usage
in such cases, and leave the room. The voice of authority,
and something more, in which this was said, produced the de-
sired effect. The multitude shouted forth their approbation,
The civic chieftain, after performing astonishing feats of
aldermanship, judged it prudent to retire without a further
struggle. He was followed by his corps of discontents, about
fifty in number, and the business of the day, after a suspen-
sion of two hours, proceeded without interruption.

Mr. Wallace is one among the few of the present leading
men at the Irish Bar, who have dedicated much time to liter-
ary pursuits. His general reading is understood to be various
and extensive. In the year 1796, two years before he waa
called to the Bar, he composed an essay on the variations, iij
the prose style of the English language, from the period of tin
Revolution, which obtained the gold medal prize of the Roya
Irish Academy. It is written with much elegance, is entirely
free from juvenile or national finery, and bears evident

286 THOMAS WALLACE.

of those powers of discrimination which were afterward to pro-
cure for the possessor more substantial results than academic
honors. In the same year he published a treatise of consider-
able length upon the manufactures of Ireland. The latter I
have never seen, but I have heard an anecdote regarding it
which may be mentioned as illustrative of the purity with
which Irish academic justice was in those days administered.
It was originally composed, like the former, as a prize-essay.
The academy hesitated between it and the rival production
of one of their members, a Mr. Preston, and referred the decis-
ion to a committee. The committee deputed the task to a
sub-committee, and the latter to three persons, of whom Mr.
Preston was one. The prize was accordingly adjudged to
that gentleman's production, and Mr. Wallace revenged him-
self of the academy by publishing his work, and prefixing to
it a detailed account of the transaction.

In concluding my notice of this able person, I have only
to add, that if he should ever enter Parliament, it may
be safely predicted that his career there will be neither
"mute" nor " inglorious." His manliness, integrity, and de-
termination, as well as his general talents, would be soon found
out in that assembly, and insure him upon all occasions a re-
spectful hearing. The enlightened portion of the Irish admin-
istration would find in him a strenuous supporter of no ordinary
value; and the country at large (independently of the benefit
of his other exertions) would have a security that no hackney-
ed and scandalous misrepresentations of its condition, no matter
from whose lips they might come, would be allowed to pass
in his presence without peremptory contradiction and rebuke.

.-••

WEXFORD ASSIZES.

I AM an Irish Barrister, and go the Leinsler Circuit.* I
keep a diary of extra-professional occurrences in this half-
yearly round, a sort of sentimental note-book, which I preserve
apart from the nisi prius adjudications of the going judges of
assize. In reading over my journal of the last Circuit, I find
much matter which with more leisure I could reduce into bet-
ter shape. I shall content myself for the present with an
account of the Jast assizes, or rather of myself during the last
assizes of Wexford, presuming that I do little more than tran-
scribe the record of my own feelings and observations from a
diary, to which, as I have intimated, they were committed
without any intention that they should be submitted to the
public eye. This will account for the character of the inci-
dents, and the want of classification in their detail.

I set off from Dublin on the 17th of July, 1825, in the mail-
coach. In England, a barrister is not permitted to travel in a
public vehicle, lest he should be placed in too endearing a
juxtaposition to an attorney. But in Ireland no such prohibi-
tion exists ; and so little aristocracy prevails in our migrations
from town to town, that a sort of connivance has been ex-
tended to the cheap and rapid jaunting-cars, by which Signer
Bianconi (an ingenious Italian) has opened a communication
between almost all the towns in the south of Ireland.t Be it,

* Shell, who went the Leinster Circuit, wore no disguise in this sketch,
which he originally named, " Diary oCj£' Barrister during the last Wexford
Assizes."— M.

t Charles Bianconi established a system of cheap and rapid travelling in Ire- •
land, on what are called Outside Jaunting-cars, which he spread all over the
Country, from 1823 until the advent of Railwayism, which has necessarily con-

288 WEXFORD ASSIZES.

however, remembered, that it was not in an Irish vis-a-vis, that
I passed through the ancient city of Ferns. Doctor Elrington,
the present Bishop of Clogher, resides in its immediate vicin-
ity ; his palace is visible from the road.

A word or two about the doctor.* He had been Provost of
Trinity College, and was raised to this important office by Mr.
Perceval, to whom te recommended himself by some mystical
lucubrations upon the piety, poverty, and simplicity of the Irish
Church. They were distinguished by a laborious flimsiness, and
exhibited a perfect keeping between the understanding of the
writer and his heart : they smelt of a lamp which was fed with
rancid oil. The present Archbishop of Dublint had been the
competitor of Elrington for the first station of the University.
His eminent abilities gave him in his own opinion, and I
should add, in the judgment of the University, a paramount
claim. But at that time he had the plague-spot of liberality
in his character. The stain has been since effaced, but it was
still apparent when he presented himself to the Minister.

Doctor Magee used to give a somewhat amusing account
of his reception by the flippant personage who was then at the
head of the State. He threw out some broad hints as to the
principles in which the Protestant youth of Ireland ought to
be educated; and said that the office had been given away.

traded his operations. Public convenience and private economy were alike
served by Mr. Bianconi, who has made a large fortune, is now a Magistrate iu
Tipperary (where he has purchased estates), and has served the office of Mayor
of Clonmell.— M.

* Dr. Elrington was a great pamphleteer, who distinguished himself by illib-
erality as Provost of Trinity College, Dublin, and took in a double supply, when
he became Bishop. He was reputed to be a good classical scholar. — M.

t Dr. William Magee, born in 1765, was educated at Dublin University,
when he became Professor of Oriental languages. In 1806, he was a senior
fellow of the College, and, soon after Professor of Mathematics. After being
successively Dean of Cork and Bishop of Raphoe, he was made Archbishop
of Dublin in 1822. Hjs chief literary work, published in 1801, was on the
subject of The Atonement — on this, which obtained great popularity, he at-
tacked Unitarianism with Orthodox zeal, acuteness, and learning. He became
strongly anti-Catholic in politics after his last preferment, and disappointed
the hopes which arose out of his previous moderation. Archbishop Maget
lied in 1831, aged sixty-six. — M

SPENCER PERCEVAL. 289

"Let me see" (said Mr. Perceval, in the Doctor's description),
"let me see — yes, bis name is Doctor Elrington, I have his
pamphlets upon tithes; he has demonstrated their divine
origin. How much such men are wanted in these dangerous
times !"* The mistake made by the Minister in pronouncing
the name of his successful rival (which he hardly knew), pro-
duced an increased secretion of gall in the Doctor, to which
he used to give vent in many a virulent gibe. At this time he
was Mr. Plunket's friend, and his own enemy. But Perceval's
admonition was not lost upon him. He perceived that he had
tjtken a wrong course, and, selecting his competitor as his
example, speedily improved upon his model. But let him
pass. *

Doctor Elrington, while a fellow of the college, published
an edition of Euclid. A schoolboy might have given it to the
world. But such is the state of tlii Irish Protestant Univer-
sity, that by constituting an exception to the habits of inte
lectual sloth which prevail over that opulent and inglorious
corporation, even an edition of Euclid confers upon a fellow of
the university a comparative title to respect.

When Provost, he was a rigid disciplinarian. He attracted
public attention by two measures : he suppressed the Histori-

* Spencer Perceval, son of the Earl of Egmont, was born in 1762, practised
a Chancery barrister, and was brought into Parliament by Mr. Pitt. He
6ecame leading Counsel on the Midland Circuit. When Pitt was about fight-
ing a duel with Mr. Tierney, he told Lord Harrowby that, if he fell, Perceval
was the most competent person to succeed him as Prime Minister and opponent
to Fox — an opinion of his powers few else have held. In 1801, he became
Solicitor-General under Addington's Ministry, resigned office on Pitt's death,
and became Prime Minister on the death of the Duke of Portland in 1807,
which was on May 11, 1812, when he was shot through the heart, in the lobby
of the House of Commons, by a madman named Bellingham, who was tried,
condemned, and executed. On his death an annuity of two thousand pounds
sterling a year was voted to his wife and fifty thousand pounds sterling for her
twelve children ; the lady married again, with very little delay. Perceval,
with an admirable private character (which made Moore write on his doath
" We forgot in that hour how the statesman had erred,

And we wept for the father, the husband, the friend"),

was intolei'ant in politics and religion. Dying as he did, by the violent hand
of an assassin, even his opponents mourned for him — M.

VOL. I,— 13

290 WEXFORD ASSIZES.

cal Society, and issued a proclamation against witchcraft.
Special orders were given by the Doctor against the raising
of the Devil. The library of Trinity College is filled with
hooks of necromancy ; and, apprehending that the students
might he reduced into a commerce with the Fiend, the Doctor
gave peremptory directions, that the ponderous and worm-
eaten repertories of the Black art should not be unclasped. A
scholar of the house, who appears to have had a peculiar predi-
lection for the occult sciences, complained of the restraint which
the Doctor~had taken upon himself to put upon his intercourse
with the " Prince of the Air," and called the former to account
in a visitation, at which Lord Chief-Justice Downes (not very
appropriately) presided, as the representative of His Royal
Highness the Duke of Cumberland.* I do not recollect the
decision of his Lordship upon this important question, but, if I
may be allowed to conjecture from his intellectual habits, I
can not help suspecting .that any appeal to the statutes of
James I. must have been conclusive, in his mind, in favor of
the injunction against sorcery. Shortly after this exploit
against the Devil, the Doctor was raised to the see of Limerick,
and upon the detection of his sanctimonious and detestable
predecessor,f he was promoted to the bishopric of Clogher. He
resides in a noble palace, which arrests the attention of the
traveller in his way to Wexford, and affords an illustration of
that apostolic poverty, in which the teachers of the reformed
religion embody its holy precepts.

Wexford is a very ancient town. It was formerly sur-
rounded by Avails, a part of which continue standing. They
are mantled with ivy, and are rapidly mouldering away ;
but must once have been of considerable strength. The
remains of an old monastery are situate at the western gate.

* The Duke of Cumberland, lifth son of George ill., succeeded to the Crown
of Hanover, in 1837, on the death of William IV., and died in 1851. In Eng-
land he was extremely unpopular, but the Hanoverians liked and regretted him.
He was elected Chancellor of Trinity College, Dublin, in 1805, and for many
years Grand Master of the Orangemen of Great Britain and Ireland. — M.

t Percy Jocelyn, son of the Earl of Roden, was Bishop of Clogher, and was
deposed by his clergy, in 1824, for having been detected in the commission of
c»(i unnatural crime. — M.

THE OLD MONASTERY. 291

By a recent order of vestry (at which Catholics are not per-
mitted to vole), a tax was laid on the inhabitants for the
erection of a new church upon the site of the monastic ruin.
Upon entering "Wexford I missed a portion of the old build-
ing. I walked into its precincts, and found that some of
the venerable arches of the ancient edifice had been thrown
down, to make way for the modern structure. The work of
devastation had been going on among the residences of the
dead. A churchyard encompasses these remains of Christian
antiquity ; and I observed that many a grave had been torn
up, in order to make -a foundation for the new Protestant
church. The masons who had been at work the preceding
day, had left some of their implements behind them. To
behold the line and the trowel in the grave, would be at any
time a painful spectacle; but this violation of the departed
becomes exasperating to our passions, as well as offensive to
our religious sentiments, when it i»*occasioned by an invasion
of the ancient and proper demesne of the almost universal
faith of the people. Fragments of white bones had been
thrown up, and lay mingled with black mould upon the green
hillocks of the adjoining dead. " Why should not that be
the skull of an Abbot?" I exclaimed, as I observed the frag-
ments of a huge head which had been recently cast up : " little
did he think, that, in the very sanctuary of his monastic splen-
dor, he should ever be ' twitched about the sconce' by a rude
heretical knave, and that a Protestant shovel should deal such
profanation upon a head so deeply stored with the subtilties of
Scotus, and the mysteries of Aquinas !"

After passing some minutes in " chewing the cud of these
bitter fancies," I became weary of my meditations among the
dead, and strolled toward the Quay of Wexford, upon which
both church and chapel had poured out all their promiscuous
contents. Here was a large gathering of young damsels, who,
after having gone through their spiritual duties, came to per-
form the temporal exercises of an Irish Sabbath. There was
a great display of Wexfordiau finery. The women of Wexford
of the better class have, in general a passion for dress, to which
I have heard that they sacrifice many of their domestic com-

292 WEXFOKD ASSIZES.

forts. This little town is remarkable for a strange effort at
saving and display. It is not uncommon to see ladies, who
reside in small and indifferently furnished lodgings, issuing
from dark and contracted lanes in all the splendor which mil-
linery can supply. This tendency to extravagance in dress is
the less excusable, because Nature has done so much for their
faces and persons, as to render superfluous the efforts of Art.
The lower, as well as higher classes, are conspicuous for beauty.
. There are two baronies in this county, in one of which the
town is situate, the inhabitants of which are descended from a
colony planted by the first English settlers, who never having
intermingled their blood with the coarser material of the COUIH-
try, have retained a perfectly characteristic physiognomy, and
may be distinguished at a glance from the population of the
adjoining districts. The Irish face, although full of shrewd-
ness and vivacity, is deficient in proportion and grace. Before
you arrive in Wexford, in- traversing the craggy hills which
overhang it, you meet with countenances at every step, which
are marked by a rude energy and a barbarous strength.
Through the clouds of smoke that roll from the doors of a
hovel of mud, you may observe the face of many an Hibernian
damsel glowing with a ruddy and almost too vigorous health,
made up of features whose rudeness is redeemed by their flex-
ibility and animation, with eyes full of mockery and of will, and
lips that seem to provoke to an encounter in pleasantry, for
which they are always prepared. The dress of the genuine
Irish fair is just sufficient to conceal the more sacred of their
symmetries, but leaves the greater portion of their persons in a
state of brawny and formidable nudity. But when you de-
scend from the hills to the eastern coast, you are immediately
struck with a total dissimilarity of look, and can not fail to
notice a peculiarly English aspect.

I am disposed to think the young women of the lower class
in the baronies of Forth and Bargy, even more graceful and
feminine than the most lively of the English peasantry, whom
I have ever had occasion to notice. Their eyes are of deep
and tender blue, their foreheads are high and smooth, their
cheeks have a clear transparent color, and a sweetness of

THE WKXFORD PEASANTRY. 293

expression sits on tlieir full fresli lips, wliich is united with
perfect modesty, and renders them objects of pure and respect-
ful interest. They take a special care of their persons, and
exhibit that tidiness and neatness in their attire, for which
their English kindred are remarkable. I have often stopped
to observe a girl from the barony of Forth, in the market of
Wexford, with her basket of eggs or chickens for sale, and
wished that I we're an artist, in order that I might preserve
her face and figure. Her bonnet of bright and well-plaited
straw just permitted a few bright ringlets to escape upon hei
oval cheek: over her head was thrown a kerchief of muslin tc
protect her complexion from the sun. Her cloak of blue cloth,
trimmed with gray silk, hung gracefully from her shoulders.
Her boddice was tightly laced round a graceful and symmetri-
cal person. Her feet were compressed in smart and well-
polished shoes; and as she held out her basket to allure you
into a purchase of her commodities, her smile, with all its win-
ningness, was still so pure, that you did not dare to wish that
she should herself be thrown into the bargain.

It is clear that the peasantry of these districts are a superior
and better-ordered tribe. Industry and morality prevail among
them. Crime is almost unknown in the baronies of Forth and
Bargy. ' The English reader will probably imagine that they
must be Protestants. On the contrary, the Roman Catholic
religion is their only creed, and all efforts at proselytism have
wholly failed. It has often been considered as singular that
the Irish rebellion should have raged with such fierceness
among this moral and pacific peasantry. Some are disposed
to refer the intensity of their political feelings to their attach-
ment to the Catholic religion ; but I believe that the main
cause of the temporary ferocity into which they were excited,
and in the indulgence of which they for a while threw off all
their former habits, had its origin from the excesses of wliich a
licentious soldiery were guilty, and that the dishonor of their
wives and daughters impelled them to revenge and blood.

I have extended my description of the inhabitants of these
two Saxon districts (for they may be so called) beyond the
limits I had proposed. But I write in a desultory fashion, upon

294 WEXFOED ASSIZES.

matters which are in themselves somewhat unlinked together
While I was wandering up and down the quay of Wexford,
and, after having fed my eyes to satiety, was beginning to yield
to the spirit of oscitation which is apt to creep upon a lawyer
on the sabbath, a gentleman had the goodness to invite me to
accompany him up the river Slaney, to a fine wood upon the
banks of the stream, where he proposed that his party should
dine upon the refreshments with which his barge was copiously
stored. I gladly took advantage of this very polite invitation ;
the wind was favorable, and wafted us along the smooth and
glassy stream with a rapid and delightful motion. The banks
are remarkable for their beauty. On the right hand, as you
proceed up the river, the seat of the La Hunt family offers a
series of acclivities covered with thick and venerable wood.
The temperature of the air is so soft, and the aspect so much
open to the mid-day sun, that shrubs which are proper to south-
ern latitudes grow in abundance in these noble plantations.
At every turn of the stream, which winds in a sheet of silver
through a cultivated valley, landscapes worthy of the pencil
of Gainsborough or of Wilson are disclosed. Castles, old
Danish forts, the ruins of monasteries, and, I should add, the
falling halls of absentees, appear in a long succession upon both
sides of the stream.

I was a good deal struck with a little nook, in which a beau-
tiful cottage rose out of green trees, and asked who was the
proprietor. It had been built, it seems, by Sir H. Bate Dud:
ley, the former proprietor of the "Morning Herald," who re-
sided for some time upon a living given to him in this diocese.
I was informed that he was respected by all classes, and be-
loved by the pool-.* His departure was greatly regretted.
Not far from Sir H. Bate Dudley's cottage is the residence of
Mr. Devereux, of Carrick Nana. He is said to be descended

* Henry Bate Dudley (born 1745, died 1824) was a clergyman, who spent
most of his time in literary, political, and convivial society, and (despite his
"acred profession) fought several duels! He wrote some plays, and found-
ed two daily newspapers yet published in London — the Morning Post and the
Morning Herald, He was made a baronet and obtained valuable church pre-
ferment from the influence these Jourimls gave him. — M.

A l»ic-Ntc IN THE WOODS.

from a brother of William tlie Conqueror, and certainly belongs
to one of tlie most ancient families in Ireland. Tlie political
race of this gentleman is so honorably ardent, that he has gone
to the expense of collecting portraits of all the parliamentary
friends of Emancipation, and devoted a gallery to the purpose.

After passing his seat, we saw Mount Leinster, towering in
all its glory before us, with the sun descending upon its peak.
Having reached the point of our destination, we landed in a
deep and tangled wood, and sat down to dinner in a cave
which overhangs the stream. While we were sitting in this
spot, which I may justly call a romantic one, a sweet voice
rose from the banks beneath, in the music of a melancholy air.
It was what I once heard a poor harper call " a lonesome air."
I do not know whether certain potations compounded of a liquor
which, in our love of the figurative, we have called " mountain
clew," might not have added to the inspiration of the melody.
When it ceased, we proceeded to discover the fair vocalist who
had uttered such dulcet notes, and whom one of us compared
to the lady in " Coinus'." What was our disappointment, when,
upon approaching the spot from which the music had proceed-
ed, we found an assembly of Sabbatarian wassailers, who gave
vent to a loud and honest laugh as we arrived ! The echoes
took upr their boisterous merriment, which reverberated through
the woods and hills. The songstress who had so enchanted us
was little better than" a peasant-girl.

These good people, who were sitting in a circle round a huge
jug of punch, had resolyeclto participate in the beauty of Na-
ture, of which we are ^iffSnants in common, and, like ourselves,
had roved out from the town to dine in the wood. They en-
tered their boat at the same time that we pushed off from the
bank, and accompanied us. It was now evening. The broad
water was without a ripple. The sun had gone down behind
Mount Leinster, and a rich vermilion was spread over the vast
range of lofty and precipitous hills that bound the western
horizon. The night was advancing from the east, toward which
our boats were rapidly gliding. The woods which hang upon
the banks, had thrown their broad shadows across the stream.
We reached the narrow pass where the remains of a palace of

ASSIZES.

t

King John, which is still called " Shaun's Court," stand upon
the river, while the Tower of Fitzstephen rises upon the other
bank. This was the first hold raised by the English upon
their landing. It is built on a rock, and commands the gorge
in which the Slaney is at this point narrowly compressed.
While our barge was carried along the dark water, the fair
vocalist, who was in the other boat, was prevailed upon to sing
an Irish melody : our oars were suspended. Without any
knowledge of music, she possessed a fine voice, and was not
destitute of feeling. She selected an old Irish air, to which
Moore has appropriately allied the misfortunes of Ireland.
Wexford is the birthplace of the poet j* and as his beautiful
words passed over the waters, I could not avoid thinking that
in his boyhood he must often have lingered amidst the hills
which surrounded us, in which the liveliness of Nature is asso-
ciated with so many national recollections. It is not impossi-
ble that his mind may have taken its first tinge from these
scenes, which it is difficult for even an ordinary person to con-
template without a mournful emotion. The enchanting melan-
choly of the air, which is commonly called " The Coulin," and
which was sweetly and inartificially sung, went deeply into
our hearts.! The impression left by the poetry and the music,
which were so well assisted by a beautiful locality, did not
soon pass away.

While our spirits were still under the influence of the feel-
ings which had been called forth by these simple means, the
lights of the town of Wexford were descried. As we ap-
proached, I perceived the arches of the bridge, which stretches
its crazy length from the town to the opposite side of the river.
It was upon that bridge that the infuriated insurgents, upon
becoming masters of Wrexford, collected their prisoners, and
murdered them in what I was going to call cold blood : but the

* This is an error. Thomas Moore's " old gouty grandfather, Tom Codd"
(as mentioned in the poet's auto-biography) lived in the Corn Market, Wex-
ford, and Moore himself states that his birth occurred on the 28th May, 1779,
at No. 12 Aungier street, Dublin. He died at Sloperton Cottage, Wiltshire,
England, on Feb. 26, 1852.— M.

t The beautiful Melody alluded to, is that commencing " Though the last
glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see.'' — M.

THE BRIDGE OF WEXFORD.

phrase would be an inappropriate one. The passions of the
people, which had been heated to the utmost intensity in the
course of that frightful contest, had not lost their rage at the
time that they were guilty of that terrific slaughter.

A gentleman who sat by my side had attested most of the
events to which I am alluding. As we neared the memorial
of that horrible event (for the bridge of Wexford has almost
become impassable, and scarcely serves any other purpose than
that of preserving the recollection of the sanguinary misdeeds
enacted upon it), I inquired the details of the massacre. He
told me that some ninety persons, of both sexes, were placed
by the rebels upon the bridge; that their fate \vas intimated
to them ; and that they were desired to prepare for death.
The Catholic clergy interposed, without effect. The insurgents
were bent upon revenge for the wrongs which most of them had
individually sustained, and ferociously appealed to the blood
upon their own doors in vindication of what they had resolved
to perpetrate. Their unfortunate victims fell upon their knees,
and cried out for mercy. " You showed it not to our children,"
was the answer; and to such an answer no replication can be
given in a civil war. At the appointed moment, the gates of
the bridge were thrown open, and the work of death was al-
most instantaneously completed.

We had now approached sufficiently near the bridge to per-
ceive its mouldering timbers with distinctness, and to hear the
plash of the waters against its rotten planks. I am not guilty
of any affectation when I say that the sound was peculiarly
dismal. The continuous dash of the wave at all times (what-
ever be the cause, and I leave it to metaphysicians to assign
it) disposes the mind to a mournful mood. Perhaps it is that?
the rush of water, of which we are warned by its momentary
interruption, suggests the ideas of transitoriness, and presents
an image of the fleeting quality of our existence. But there
was something in the sound of the river, as it broke upon the
piles of decayed and bending timber that sustain the bridge
of Wexford, of a peculiarly melancholy and more than com-
monplace kind. I could not lielp thinking, as I surveyed that
decayed but still enduring fabric (why does not the tide

it into tlie sea?), tliat upon those shattered boards, and weed-
mantled planks, there had been many a wretch who clung with
a desperate tenacity for a little longer life, until a thrust of
the insurgent's pike loosened the grasp of agony, and the
corpse, after whirling for a moment in the eddies beneath, was
wafted into the ocean, and became the sea-bird's perch.

Such were the feelings with which I could not help looking
upon this memorial of the shame and disasters of my country.
A few days after, there occurred in this very spot a scene
which tended rather to rivet than to weaken the political inter-
est with which the bridge of Wexford ought to be surveyed.
Mr. O'Connell was brought as special counsel to Wexford :
the people determined to pay him all the honors which it was
in their power to bestow.

It was decided that an aquatic procession, if I may use the
phrase, should meet him at Fitzstephen's Tower, and that he
should be attended by the citizens from the ground where the
English had fixed the foundations of their dominion. The
Counsellor was accordingly met, at the pass which I have de-
scribed, by a fleet of boats, and was forced to step into a trium-
phal barge, manned by the choicest rowers that could be procured.
They were dressed in green jackets lined with gold. A large
flag of the same emblematical color, with a harp without a
crown, floated from the stern. An immense multitude were
assembled upon the banks, and a vast number of boats crowd-
ed the river. The Counsellor entered the patriotic barge with
a show of reluctance, and took his seat. Three cheers were
given.

" Corisidunt rastris ; intentaque brachia remis :
Intend expectant signum, exsultantiaque haurit
Corda pavor pulsans, laudumque onesta cupido,
Inde, ubi clara dedit sonitum tuba, finibus omnes
Haud mora, prosiluere suis : ferit aethera clamor
Nauticus : adductis spumant freta versa lacertis."

The spectacle exhibited in Wexford upon this occasion was
a striking one. The whole Catholic population poured forth
to greet Mr. O'Connell, and thousands gathered upon the cjuay
and bridge of Wexford to hail his arrival. The Protestants,

CtttEF-JtTSTtOE BUSttE.

who find in every incident of this kind an association with the
events of 1798, stood with an expression of deep and angry
gloom in the midst of all the turbulent exultation of their
Popish fellow-citizens. I observed groups of silent and scowl-
ing men, whose physiognomies did not permit me to doubt
their religion. They muttered a few words to each other, and
seemed to gripe their hands as if they felt the yeoman's sabre
already in their grasp. The Catholics were either heedless
of their anger, or derided its impotence. They were assem-
bled in vast numbers upon the bridge, which tottered beneath
their weight. At length the Counsellor's barge came in sight.
A cheer followed every stroke of the oar, and at length he
reached the point selected for his reception in the city, and
stepped from his barge upon the bridge, which, I suppose, in
the eyes of the Protestant portion of the spectators, grew red
beneath his footsteps. In their disturbed imaginations every
footprint was marked with blood.

The assizes opened upon Tuesday, the 19th July, 1825.
The judges were the Chief-Justice of the King's Bench, and
Mr. Justice Johnson, judge of the Court of Common Pleas. The
former regularly goes the Leinster circuit ; some of his imme-
diate friends and kindred are upon it. Charles is the name
of the Chief-Justice, and the constellated lights, by which he
is surrounded, have been called his " wain." It is natural
that a feeling of disrelish for this undeviating adherence to
Leinster should exist at the Bar, and it is equally natural that
Chief-Justice Bushe should disregard it. The ancient resi-
dence of his family (which settled in Ireland in the reign of
Charles the Second) is situate in the county of Kilkenny. It
is for many reasons most dear to him. His attachment to this
domestic spot does not arise from a mere idle pride of honora-
ble birth, but takes its origin in a most noble action. Although
not bound to do so, he sold his paternal property to pay his
father's debts, repurchased it with the profits of his industry
and his genius, and now holds the estate of his forefathers by
a better title than descent.

Lorrl Redesdale's nephew, Mr. Mitford, who was deposited
in Ireland by his able uncle, has a great talent for drawing.

SCO WEXFORt) ASSIZES.

One of his best pictures hangs over tlie cliimney of tlie prin-
cipal room at Kilmurry (tlie seat of tlie Chief-Justice) and
appropriately represents Sterne's story of " The Sword." The
subject was felicitously chosen.* It is impossible that the
Chief-Justice should not feel a strong attachment to a mansion
which affords an evidence at once of his genius and of his vir-
tues; and it would be strange if he did not exercise the priv-
ilege of selection which belongs to his judicial rank in favor
of a circuit upon which his own property is situate, in almost
immediate contiguity to every town in which it is his office to
preside. It is also to be observed, that in Kilkenny he is en-
compassed by his OAVII near associates and friends ; and it is
but a just indulgence in a sentiment of virtuous pride, that he
should desire to exercise his high functions among those who
experience an unaffected pleasure at witnessing the elevation
which he has attained.

With respect to the imputed charge of favoritism, the per-
sons who are most disposed to find fault with this eminent in-
dividual, can not point out any specific instance in which,
from a partiality to the advocate he has manifested the least
bias toward the client ; and if suitors, upon a calculation of the
general frailty of our nature, should indulge in the hope that
the leaning of the judge is to be secured by employing the
supposed object of his predilection, it were too much to expect
that he should offer a homage to suspicion, and, by giving
way to it, yield to a certain extent an acquiescence in its jus
tice. For my own part, I am not at all disposed to attach
blame to him for persevering in his uniform adoption of their
same circuit, as long as judges are permitted by the law to do
so. Why should a peculiar exception be made against him ?
Other judges are equally constant in their local likings, and
yet no complaints are made against them.

* In "The Sentimental Journey through France and Italy." It is a beauti-
ful episode, and few descriptions have as much simple pathos as this whi.-h
brings before us the Marquis, who had deposited his sword, with the States of
Rennes, in Brittany, returning after twenty years' pursuit of wealth, in com-
merce, to reclaim the weapon having rebuilt the broken fortunes of his ancietit
house. — M.

CHIEF-JUSTICE BUSHE. 301

In England, too, judges are in tlie habit of going tlie same
circuit without incurring the popular displeasure. While the
law stands as it does, no complaint can justly be made of any
individual for consulting his own convenience in these regards.
It might, however, be matter for consideration, whether the
statute which prevented judges from presiding in their own
counties, ought not to be re-enacted. That statute which was
repealed in Ireland, at the instance, it is said, of the ex-Judge
Day,* who was fond of the picturesque, and wishing to visit
the Lakes of Killarney twice a year, expressed a solicitude to
preside at the assizes of Kerry. Such a wish, when the Union
was in concoction, was not to be disregarded. How far it is
contrary to public policy to allow of this perpetual return of
the same judge to the same circuit, admits of doubt. It is
hard for a man of the purest mind to divest himself of precon-
ceptions, formed by intimate and reiterated observation. A
judge is apt to take local views where he contracts topical
connections, and may consider it necessary to administer jus-
tice with more rigor in districts with the habits of criminality
of which he may have acquired a peculiar intimacy. A
stronger anxiety for the suppression of atrocities in his own
immediate vicinage is almost inevitable. Offences committed
at our own door appear not only more formidable, but enor-
mous. The blood spattered at our very threshold, leaves be-»
hind it a deeper die.

It is, however, but just to add, that if there be any judge,
from whose constant attendance of the Leinster circuit, not
only no positive evil, but an actual benefit arises, it is Charles
Kendal Bushe. As far as my observation extends, he is per-
fectly impartial. The rank or the religion of parties has no
sort of weight with him ; and to every case, whatever may be
the circumstances attending it, he gives an equal and un-
biased hearing. His attention to the interests of the lower
orders, evinced by the extraordinary solicitude with which he
investigates their rights in the trial of civil bill appeals, is
above all praise. It was formerly usual to hear civil bills at
the close of the assizes of Clonmel ; and the persons interested,

* Judje Day, of liberal polit ;g, was a ve'y intimate friend of Grattan. — M

302 WEXFOED ASSIZES.

who are almost always of the humbler class, were kept in
anxious and expensive attendance for a whole week upon the
court. Poor creatures, whose very being was involved in the
result of their appeals, were assembled in a dismal gathering
in the town, and, before their causes were heard, had expended
nearly the whole amount of the sum decreed against them, in
awaiting the capricious pleasure of the judge to reverse the'
sentence of the inferior tribunal. When this branch of busi-
ness was called on, the judge was generally impatient to leave
the town, and hurried with a careless precipitation through
matters which, however insignificant in the mind of the weal-
thiest suitor, were of permanent moment to the wretched peas-
ants who flocked to the assizes for redress. The Chief-Justice
has reformed those crying abuses, and devotes as much consid-
eration to the trial of minor cases as to causes of the greatest
magnitude. He has, by introducing this practice, which
could not have been established by him without a continued
selection of the circuit, conferred signal advantages upon the
public.

With respect to the interests of the Bar, although some of
his more immediate friends are supposed to derive a benefit
from his countenance, it should be remembered, in the first
place, that they are persons of high merit ; and it should not
be forgotten, that to every member of the Bar the Chief-Justice
is so undeviatingly polite, that no individual can justly tax
him with having done him any immediate wrong. I am much
inclined to think, that there is great exaggeration in the esti
mate of those advantages supposed to arise from the favor of
any judge; and even if I were disposed to accord in the opin-
ion, that individuals can be indebted for any essential portion
of their success to the influence of the judicial smile, the ac-
complished manners, the liberal and enlightened spirit, the
great endowments, and the patient industry, of the Chief-
Justice, would outweigh, in my mind, every inferior and per-
sonal consideration.

Mr. Justice Johnson was joined with the Chief-Justice in
the commission. He is the brother of the ex-judge of that
, who wrote the celebrated letters of Juverna, and who

JUDGE JOHNSON. 303

is justly accounted one of the ablest men in Ireland.* The
two brothers are men of eminent talents, but wholly dissimilar
in character. The political writer is calm, ironical, biting, and
sarcastic, and uses shafts of the finest temper, steeped in
venom. The present judge is vehement, impetuous, frank,
and vigorous; and while the one shoots his finely-feathered
arrows, the other whirls about a massive and roughly-knotted
club. He is warm and excitable, and effervesces in an instant.
This suddenness has its origin in the goodness of his nature.
If he suspects collusion or fraud, or gets the least hint of
baseness in any transaction, he immediately take's fire. In
these moods of explosive honesty, there is something formida-
ble to a person who does not know that the ebullitions of integ-
rity subside as rapidly as they break out; and that, with all
these indications of angry temperament, he is in reality a kind
and tractable man. At the same time we must beware of wan-
tonly provoking him. " Noli irritare leonem," is a precept
which the contemplation of his countenance has sometimes
recalled to me. His deep voice that issues upon a hunter of
subtleties in a roar, his broad and massive face, a pair of pon-
derous brows that overhang his flashing eyes, a certain shaggi-
ness of look, and a start of the whole body with which he

* There -were two Johnsons, William and Robert, sons of an apothecary in
Dublin. Both became Judges. Robert, a puisne in the Common Pleas, wrote
a paper, published by Cobbett, against Lord Redesdale, on circumstances con
nected with Emmett's trial. This paper was considered a libel, and O'Grady,
then Attorney-General, proceeded against Johnson. After a world of argu-
ment, Judge Johnson was actually kidnapped, conveyed from Ireland to Eng-
land, tried for the libel, convicted, and proceedings stopped on condition of his
resigning his Judgeship, which he did — receiving twelve hundred pounds
sterling annual pension for life. Curran was his Counsel in Ireland, and in a
speech in this case he appealed to Lord Avonmore, who presided, in the name
of their early friendship, and the happy hours they had passed together. Quo-
ting from Cowley, he said —

' We spent them not in toys, or lust, or wine ;

But search of deep philosophy,

Wit, eloquence, and poesy —

Arts which I loved; for they, my friend! were thine."

There had been a coolness between them, but Avonmore sent for Curran, when
the Court rose, threw himself into his arms, while his eyes were yet wet with
tears, and they were friends again. — M

804 WEXFORD ASSIZES.

erects himself, suggest the image of that "fine animal" to my
mind. This learned and excitable person, with all this sudden-
ness of emotion, is extremely good and kind-hearted ; and,
although he may now and then say a rough thing, never aims
a deliberate blow at the feelings or reputation of any man.
As a criminal judge, he is truly merciful and compassionate;
and as. a civil one, is learned, sagacious, and acute. In the
Court of Common Pleas, he exhibits much more irritability
than upon circuits. He is exasperated by the witticisms of
Lord Norbury, who says that his brother is like a young horse,
and wishes to draw the entire coach himself. To adopt his
lordship's illustration, it must be owned that he kicks and
plunges when yoked with " that gallant gray /'but pulls single
exceedingly well.

No trial of any very considerable interest, except that of the
action of Nunn against Wyse, which has been detailed in the
English papers, occurred during the last assizes : but, in look-
ing over my diary, I find a sketch which I made at the time
of a very important case, which was tried by Judge Johnson
during a preceding circuit, and which it may gratify the curi-
osity of the English reader to have transcribed. I allude to
the prosecution of Father Carroll, the Wexford priest, who
killed a child in a fit of insanity, under circumstances which
greatly excited the public attention.

This unfortunate man, for he deserves no harsher appella-
tion, had from his childhood a strong predisposition to insanity.
It was with great difficulty that he succeeded in obtaining ordi-
nation. His aberrations from reason, before they amounted to
actual madness, were connected with the subject of exorcism ;
and although every person to whom he addressed his argu-
ments in favor of the expulsion of devils, smiled at his extrav-
agance, they still could not help acknowledging that he argued
with subtilty upon wrong premises, and confessed that his
applications of various passages in the holy writings were
ingenious, however mistaken. It was in vain that Father Car-
roll was told that the power of Satan to possess himself of
human bodies ceased with the revelation of Christian truth.
He appealed to the Acts of the Apostles, and tc incidents sub-

305

sequent to tlie death of our Savior, to establish his favorite
speculation. A medical man, with whom he was intimate,
perceived that the subject had laid such a hold upon his natu-
rally excitable imagination, that he resorted to sedative med-
icines, to avert the progress of an incipient malady to which
he had an organic predisposition. As long as he followed his
physician's advice, he abstained from any acts of a very ex-
travagant nature ; but unhappily, before the events took place
which formed the ground of a capital prosecution, he neg-
lected to take his usual preventives, and became utterly de-
ranged.

He suddenly fancied himself endowed with supernatural
authority. This fantastic notion seized upon him in the midst
of divine service ; after the wild performance of which, he
rushed into the public road that led from the chapel to his
house, in search of an object for the manifestation of his mira-
culous powers. He was informed that a laborer by the name
of Neill was confined by illness to his bed ; and being con-
vinced that he was possessed by an evil spirit, proceeded to
effect the removal of the enemy. His singular demeanor at-
tracted the attention of the passengers, who followed him to
Neill's cottage; which he had no sooner entered than he pre-
cipitated 'himself upon the sick man, and began his miraculous
operations with marvellous vigor. A severe pommelling was
the process of exorcism which he regarded as most effectual.
This he put into immediate and effectual practice. Neill did
not attempt to resist this athletic antagonist of the devil. The
unhappy gentleman had determined to take Beelzebub by
storm. After a long assault, he succeeded in this strange
achievement, and having informed the astonished bystanders
that he had taken the enemy prisoner, announced that he
should give him no quarter, but plunge him into the Red Sea.
The manner of this aquatic ceremony was described by one
of the witnesses, who endeavored to illustrate it by his gesture.
After uttering various cabalistic words, he whirled himself in
a rapid rotation, with his arms outstretched, and then, suddenly
pausing, and raising himself into an attitude of importance
befitting his new authority, advanced with one arm a-kimbo,

306 WEXFORD ASSIZES.

and with the other extended, looking, as the witness expressed
it, " as if he held the devil by the tail," and marched with a
measured pace and a mysterious aspect, to a bridge upon the
river Slaney, where he buried the captive demon in what he
took for the Red Sea.

Not contented with this exploit, he exclaimed that Neill had
seven more devils, which he was determined to expel from this
peculiar object of diabolical predilection. The operation was
accordingly repeated with such success, that Neill, after much
strenuous expostulation, leaped out of his bed, and exclaimed
that he was quite well. This circumstance produced a deep
impression upon the crowd, among whom there were some
Protestants ; and two of the latter, a Mrs. Winter and her
daughter, knelt down, and called upon the Lord to assist
Father Carroll in the perpetration of the next miracle, which,
encouraged by their pious sympathies, he almost immediately
proceeded to commit. A poor woman happened to pass along
the road, whom he had no sooner observed than he knocked
her down, and pursued a mode of exorcism similar to that
which I have described, with such effect, that one of the spec-
tators cried out for the people to make way, " as he saw the
devil coming out."

This achievement only served to excite the wretched maniac,
and impel him to another undertaking of the same kind. He
insisted " that the devil had taken possession of Sinot's child."
The circumstances which I have detailed, and by no means
endeavored to exaggerate, would be merely ridiculous if they
were not the result of a malady which humbles human nature ;
the incident by which they were succeeded, ought to make
Democritus shed tears. Sinot had a child wlio had been af-
fected by fits, and over whom the priest had been requested
by its mother to say prayers. This was not only a natural,
but, I will add, a reasonable application. It is not supposed
by Roman Catholics that the prayers of a clergyman are
endowed with any preternatural efficacy ; but it is considered
that praying over the sick is a pious and religious act. The
recollection of this fatal request passed across the distempered
inind of the mad ma*), who hurried with an insane alacrity to

FATHER CARROLL'S TRIAL. 307

Sinot's cabin. It was composed of two rooms upon the ground
floor, in the smaller of which lay the little victim. It was
indeed so contracted, that it could not contain more than two
or three persons. The crowd who followed the priest remained
outside, and were utterly unconscious of what he was about to
do. The father of the child was not in the house when Father
Carroll entered it, and was prevented by the pressure in the
exterior room from approaching him ; and for some time after
the death of the child was wholly unconscious of what had
taken place.

No efforts whatever were made to prevent his interference.
He was produced as a witness upon the trial, and swore that
it did not enter into his thoughts that Father Carroll intended
to do the child the least harm. He could not, he said, even
see the priest. It is not necessary to describe the manner of
the infant's death. It is enough to say that, after uttering a few
feeble cries, and calling upon its " mammy," every sound be-
came extinct. The madman had placed the child under a
tub, and life was extinguished. It may well be imagined that
the trial of this case excited a strong sensation in the county
where the rebellion had raged with its most dangerous fury,
and from which it will be long before its recollections will have
entirely passed away. The Protestant party, forgetting that
many of their own sect had taken a partial share in the pro-
ceedings, of which they had been, at all events, the passive
witnesses, exhibited a proud and disdainful exultation, and
affected a deep scorn for the intellectual debasement of which
they alleged this event to be a manifest proof; while the
Catholics disclosed a festered soreness upon an incident which,
they could not fail to feel, was likely to expose them to much
plausible imputation.

The Court-house was crowded to the roof by persons of all
classes and opinions, among whom the clergy of both churches
were conspicuous. It was filled with parsons and with priests.
Although there is a certain clerical affinity between ecclesias-
tics of all sorts, it was not .difficult, under a cloth of the same
jolor, to distinguish between the ministers of the two religions.
4>n expression of slv disdain, accompanied with a ^jovous |lit-

308 WEXFOKD ASSIZES.

ter of the eye, gleamed over the parsons' faces ; while the
countenances of the Catholic clergy betrayed, in the rude play
of their marked and impassioned features, the bitter conscious-
ness of unmerited humiliation.

The dress of the two clerical parties presented a singular
contrast. The priests were cased in huge top-boots of dubious
and murky yellow and of bespattered black: the parsons'
taper limbs were enclosed in tight and sable silk, which, by
compressing, disclosed their plump proportions." The nameless
integuments of the Popish ministers of the gospel were framed
of substantial thickset, and bore evidence to the high trot of
the rough-coated nags with which they had descended from
the mountains ; while the immaculate kerseymere of the par-
sons' inexpressibles indicated with what nicety they had
picked their steps through all the mire of the Catholic mul-
titude round the court. The priests' dingy waistcoats were
close fastened to their neckcloths, and looked like an armor
of economy ; while the parsons' exhibited the finest cambric,
wrought into minute and snow-white folds. A ponderous
mantle of smoking frieze hung from the shoulders of the
priest; while a well-shaped jerkin brought the parson's sym-
metries into relief. The parson held a pinch of Prince's Mix-
ture between his lilied fingers, while the priest impelled a
reiterated and ample mass of Lundifoot into his olfactory
organ.* The priest's cheek was ruddy with the keen air of
the mountain and the glen, while the faint blush upon the
parson's cheek left it a matter for conjecture, whether it pro-
ceeded from some remnant of nature, or was the result of the
delicate tincture of art. The former sat near the dock, and the
latter near the bench.

* Lundifoot was a tobacconist in Dublin who made a large fortune by a snuff
called "Irish Blackguard." The name thus originated: one of the workmen
left the snuff so long in the oven that it became " high-dried." Lundifoot, de-
tecting the neglect, scolded the man, and damned him for an Irish blackguard.
On taking out the snuff, he tried a pinch of it (more in despair than hope), dis-
covered that it had a new and peculiar flavor, and repeated the extra drying
on a large scale. The snuff took, and when the workman was desired to name
It, he called it "Irish Blackguard" — the appellation bestowed on himself. —
Prince's Mixture is a dark, moist, scented snuff, much affected by George JV^
\yben J*rince of Wales. — M

. . ,-«=£

CARROLL'S TRIAL. 309

Besides the clergy of the two religions, I observed another
class, whom, from their plain apparel and primitive aspect, I
took for the friars of Wexford, but upon looking more closely
I discovered my mistake. There was a grimness in their ex
pression, quite foreign from the natural and easy cheerfulness
of an Irish Franciscan ; and in their disastrous and Calvinistic
visages, their long, lank hair, and the gloomy leer of mingled
hatred and derision with which they surveyed the Catholics
around them, I beheld the ghostly "teachers of the Word."

A pause took place before the trial was called on, which
rendered expectation more intense : at length Mr. Justice
Johnson directed that the prisoner should be brought forward.
Every eye was turned to the dock, and the prisoner stood at
the bar. His figure was tall and dignified. A large black
cloak with a scarlet collar was fastened with a clasp round,
his neck, but not so closely as to conceal the ample chest,
across which his arms were loosely and resignedly folded.
His strong black hair was bound with a velvet band, to con-
ceal the recent incisions made by the Surgeon in his head.
His countenance was smooth and finely chiseled ; and it was
observed by many that his features, which, though small, were
marked, bore a miniature resemblance to Napoleon. His color
was dead and chalky, and it was impossible to perceive the
least play or variety of emotion about the mouth, which con-
tinued open, and of the color of ashes. On being called on to
plead, he remained silent.

The Court was about to direct an inquiry whether he was
"mute of malice," when it was seen by a glance of his eye,
that he was conscious of the purport of the .question ; and by
the directions of his counsel he pleaded not guilty. During
the trial, which was conducted with the most exemplary mod-
eration by the counsel for the crown, he retained his petrified
and statue-like demeanor; and although the heat was most
intense, the hue of his face and lips did not undergo the
slightest change. The jury found that he had committed the
direful act under the influence of insanity. Judge Johnson
addressed him in a very striking and pathetic manner. He
seemed to me to have blood in his eye for Prince Hohenloe,

310 WfiXFOftt)

whose miracles were then in vogue,* and were supposed, nonf-
ever erroneously, to have contributed to the prisoner's infatua-
tion. This was a mistake : he was organically insane, and
was in reality as innocent as the poor child who had perished
in his hands. The learned judge opened a masqued battery
upon Bamberg,t and some of the shots reached to Rome : but
he should not have forgotten that there is a form for exorcism
in the Protestant as well as in the Roman Catholic ritual.
The religion of England requires a further cleansing, and a
new Reformation might be a judicious project.

* Hohenloe was a German prince, who had taken holy orders in the Church
of Rome, and was a man of such singular piety that it was believed, in Ireland,
from 1822 to 1825, that his prayers, if offered specially in any particular case,
would immediately effect a cure — no matter how severe the bodily ailment of
the person prayed for. — M.

1 The place, in Germany, of Prince Hohenloe's residence. — M

JOHN DOHERTY.

MR. DOHERTY, whom his personal claims, assisted I presume
by his political connections, and backed by the opposition of
Lord Manners, have recommended as the new Solicitor-General
of Ireland [1S27J, is six feet two inches high, and " every inch" a
very estimable person. Tall as he is, there is nothing contempt-
uous or haughty in his carriage. He never proudly tosses up
his chin, as if to let briefer specimens of humanity pass under,
He delights not, like his learned and pious competitor for office,
in soaring among the skies for the inward satisfaction of look-
ing down upon other men ; neither can he pass with the dexter-
ous versatility of that holy Sergeant [Lefroy] from knotty ques-
tions of Chancery practice to the latest authorities for " nonsuit-
ing the devil."* He is, on the contrary, as terrestrial as can be
in his habits and intercourse. His manners are friendly and
forbearing, and his conversation enlivened by a temperate love
of frolic, which endears his society to all those hardened sin-
ners who have not yet been sainted into a due sense of the
awful responsibility of joining in a hearty laugh.

•As to more important points, he is admitted on all hands to
be an extremely clever man. He is, and has been for some

* An English waiter of the 17th century has sketched " the character of a
perfect lawyer," from which I extract the concluding sentence for the benefit
of the learned saints of Ireland. " In a word, while he lives, he is the delight
of the courts, the ornament of the bar, the glory of his profession, the patron
of innocency, the upholder of right, the scourge of oppression, the terror of
deceit, and the oracle of his country ; and when death calls him to the bar of
Heaven by a habeas corpus cum causis, he finds his judge his advocate, nonsuits
the devil, obtains a liberate from all his infirmities, and continues still one of
the long robe in glory."

JOHN

years, the leader upon Lis circuit; and since he became so, has
given unequivocal proofs that he possesses powers of no ordi-
nary kind in swaying the decisions of a jury, while he has
more recently, in the discussion of graver matters in the courts
of Dublin, established a character for legal efficiency, which
has been erroneously assumed to be incompatible with the more
popular attributes of wit and eloquence. Resting upon a con-
fidence'in his qualifications, and sustained by a just ambition,
Mr. Doherty long since announced by his conduct that he as-
pired to something more than the partial success which is
founded upon the mere emoluments of place. Five years ago
he resigned a lucrative office,* of which he found the duties
to interfere with his final objects, and, dedicating himself more
exclusively to his profession, has prepared himself for those
higher honors which he then predicted to lie within his reach.
As an advocate, his general style of treating serious topics
lias nothing so peculiarly his own as prominently to distinguish
him from others. In his addresses to juries he is prompt, or-
/ derly, correct, and fluent — rarely attempting to inflame the
passions to their highest pitch, but always warmly and forcibly
inculcating the principles of common sense ami practical good
feeling; but when a case requires (in technical parlance) "to
be laughed out of court" (and one half of the cases that enter
there deserve to be so dismissed), Mr. Doherty exhibits powers
of very striking and effective originality. I know of no one
that more eminently possesses the difficult talent of enlisting a
jury on his side by a continued strain of good-humored, gen-
tlemanlike irony — consisting of mock-heroic encomiums, sar-
castic deference, and appropriate parodies upon arguments and
illustrations, delivered (as long as gravity is possible) with a
most meritorious solemnity of countenance, and a certain artful
kindliness of tone, that heightens the absurdityvit exposes, by
affecting to commiserate it. He is also distinguished for his
ability in cross-examination — a quality which has rendered
him, in his capacity of crown-prosecutor upon his circuit, a for-
midable co-operator in the enforcement of the laws.

* Commissioner of Inquiry into Courts of Justice in Ireland — the salary
twelve hundred pounds sterling a year. — M.

MIOMOTTON. 313

Hecent events have brought this gentleman into prominent
view before the Irish public, and have arrayed in his interest
a degree of popular favor which is rarely tendered to a future
adviser of state-prosecutions. Upon the late vacancy of the
Solicitor-Generalship for Ireland (an office upon which its long
tenure by the present Lord Chief-Justice Bushe has conferred
a kind of classic dignity), a variety of concurring circumstances
— the respectability of his personal character — his professional
competency — the known liberality of his political opinions —
and his parliamentary and private relations with the prime
minister of England — pointed out Mr. Doherty as one of the
fittest persons to be raised to the situation.

I should be unjust to others if I were to assert that he was in
every possible respect the very fittest. I can not overlook, the
Irish public did not overlook, the claims of such a man as Mr.
Wallace, founded as they are upon eminent professional sta-
tion, tried public character, and (the penalty of the latter) a
long and systematic exclusion from office. Mr. Holmes is an-
other.* He was spoken of, and well deserved it. His profes-
sional life has been one continued manly appeal to the public ;
and the public, doing all they could for him, have placed him
at the head of his profession. In his political principles he has
been honest and immutable, careless of patronage, and prizing
above all things his self-respect. Another of the same school
and stamp is Mr. Pen-in, a younger man by many years — too
young, perhaps, to be raised to professional honors by merit
aloiie.t His name was not mentioned upon the occasion re-

* Robert Holmes, for many years Father of the Irish Bar, made his last pub-
lic appearance (of any consequence) in the State Trials arising out of the
O'Connell Monster meeting's of 1843, holding a brief for the Crown. He was
then seventy-three years old. He was a lawyer of much ability, a man of great
private worth. He was married to Emmett's sister-in-law, and, on suspicion
of holding the same political opinions, was arrested, in 1803, and imprisoned
for some months. • He repeatedly refused a silk gown, preferring his station as
a plain barrister to the rank of King's Counsel. — M.

t Louis Perrin, now second Judge of the Queen's Bench, is the son of a
teacher of languages in Dublin, who compiled an excellent French Dictionary-
His family came to Ireland, to avoid persecution in France, as Huguenots. The
son, born in 1783, and called to the bar in 1806, speedily became eminent for
his knowledge of criminal and revenue law. At Nisi Prius he was also distin-

VOL. L — 14

314: JOHN

ferred to, but where a fitness for tlie public service is in ques-
tion, I can not in fairness pass it by. He commenced his career
at a period (the most dismal in the annals of the Irish bar)
when public spirit led to martyrdom; but he was one of the
few that were too strong to be suppressed. He prospered in
despite of his inflexible adherence to the opinions of his youth,
and (a rare event in the life of a liberal Irishman) has lived to
see the day when such opinions are no longer to disqualify. I
could mention others. Mr. North, for example, was in every
way suited by character, acquirements, and enlightened views,
to bear a part in a reformed government of Ireland. So was
Mr. Crampton,* who, though more absorbed in his profession,

guished, and had a calm, earnest manner (the result of his somewhat satur-
nine temperament), which had much weight with juries. Strongly supported
on the liberal interest, by Lord Anglesey's Government,. Mr. Perrin contested
the representation of Dublin city, at the general election, in 1831, and was re-
turned with Mr. (afterward Sir Thomas) Harty. Both were soon unseated on
petition. At the election in 1832, following the passing of the Reform Bill,
Mr. Perrin successfully contested Monaghan County. The whigs made him
Solicitor-General, under Attorney-General O'Loghlin. In Parliament, he was
an industrious man who carefully attended to the contents and revision of Irish
Bills. The Whigs placed him on the Bench, and he has there given general
satisfaction. In the O'Connell trials of 1844, he was one of the Judges — the
others being Pennefather, Burton, and Crampton. During these State Trials,
he did not conceal nor cloak his opinion that many of the objections, as to the
legality of some of the proceedings, made by the defendants (O'Connell and
his friends) were well founded — but he was overruled by the majority. Judge
Perrin has always been a consistent liberal in politics. Between O'Connell
and himself there was a warm friendship of long standing. He is now [1854J
seventy years of age. — M.

* Charles Cecil Crampton, born in 1783, was called to the bar in 1810. After
a very distinguished University career, he first became Fellow of, and subse-
quently Law-Professor to, Trinity College. He entered Parliament for the
borough of Dungarvan, and became Solicitor-General to the Whig Government
,of 1830. He was raised to the Bench earlier than usual, owing to his being
disliked by Mr. O'Connell, who, on that account, could not work pleasantly
with him. The Whigs, who then ruled Ireland through O'Connell, made Mr.
Crampton a Judge, on the earliest "acancy — to get him cut' of the way. Judge
Crampton never was an eloquent man, but it is supposed that he had as much
Nisi-Prius practice as any Irish lawyer, in his time. Long before the Temper-
ance Movement had been commenced by Father Matthew, it was well known
that Judge Crampton was a water-drinker. When he became so, on principle,
he proved the sincerity of his profession, by starting the valuable content* of

LOUD MANNERS. 315

and more circumspect in his avowals, lias always had the spirit
to keep aloof from the base expedients that led to advance-
ment at the Irish bar.

I have introduced those names without any invidious design
toward the immediate subject of the present sketch. On the
contrary, I could not easily produce a more complimentary
test of his personal and professional estimation than the fact
that the postponement of such men to him was acquiesced in
without a murmur from the bar or the public. His individual
qualifications were fully admitted ; and it was further borne in
mind that the circumstance of his having a seat in the House of
Commons, where one at the least of the law-officers of the Crown
should be present to answer for their acts, afforded in his favor
an obvious and powerful ground of preference. The Lord-
Chancellor of Ireland, however, decided otherwise; and, with-
out presuming to usurp the jurisdiction of the House of Peers,
or to emulate its frequent severity toward his Lordship's judi-
cial errors, I may perhaps be permitted to investigate the rea-
sons and the value of his decision in the present instance.

Lord Manners is a nobleman of high English blood, and in
his individual capacity, and when left to himself, is marked
by all the thoroughbred attributes that belong to his race. As
a private man, and apart from politics, he is dignified, cour-
teous, just, and generous. His moral instincts are all aided
and enforced by the honorable pride of the peer and the gen-
tleman ; he recoils from what is base, not only because it is so,
but because to act otherwise would be unworthy of the blood
of the Rutland s. Though of a temperament rather irritable
than warm, he is fervid and steadfast in his friendships. In
his private intercourse there is an easy simplicity of manner,
and a condescending familiarity of tone, that not only fascinates
his immediate adherents, but even charms down the resentment
of the Catholic Squire, to whom he explains the political im-
possibility of granting him the commission of the peace. Many
of these qualities follow Lord Manners to the judgment-seat,
but in. company with others which greatly detract from their

his wine-cellar into the stream which flows through his villa-demesne in the
County Wicklow. Judge Crampton is now [1854] seventy years of age. — M

JOHN DOHEBTY.

influence. It is not so easy a malter to be a great judge as a
perfect gentleman. That he is the latter, his Lordship's ene-
mies must admit ; that he ever could be the former, even Ser-
geant Lefroy has scrupulously abstained from insinuating —
the contrary, and the cause of it, were too palpable.

In the decisions of Lord Manners, even in those now pros-
trate ones at which the Chancellor of England shook his sides
as samples of provincial equity, there were no symptoms of
impatient or perverted strength of intellect rushing vigorously
to a wrong conclusion. The judicial defects of Lord Manners
Lave another origin — a natural delicacy of mental constitution,
•which incapacitates him for the labors of legal dialectics. As
far as a mere passive operation of the mind is required for col-
lecting a series of naked facts, he shows no deficiency of per-
ception or retention. The settlements, marriages, deaths, and
incumbrances, that form the ordinary staple of a chancery suit,
l\£ can master with sufficient expertness ; and, probably, not
the less so from having his attention unmolested during the
process by any logical speculations upon their bearings on the
issue ; but whenever an active effort of thought is wanting for
the comprehending and elucidating a complicated question, the
organic failing of his mind breaks out. Submit two proposi-
tions to him, and, if they be in immediate juxtaposition, he can
perceive as quickly as another whether they correspond or dif-
fer; but if (as in the case of most legal problems) their relation
is discoverable only by a process of intermediate comparisons,
no sooner has the advocate advanced a step in the operation,
than he is left to proceed alone, the Chancellor remaining stock
still at the starting-point, and looking on with a polite, fastidi-
ous smile, as if he were rather determined not to be misled than
unable to follow. The consequence of this habitual inertness
of intellect is, that the fate of every case of difficulty that comes
before him must be more or less an affair of chance, depending
not so much upon its various aspects, as upon the precise point
of elevation to which his mind can be possibly uplifted for the
purpose of inspection.

Lord Manners's inaptitude for compound reasoning was well
known to Lord Plunket, who would often practise upon it with

LORD- CHANCELLOR HARDWICKE. 817

the unrelenting dexterity of a hardened logician. It was at
once interesting and amusing to see that consummate advocate,
when nothing else remained, resorting to a series of subtle
stratagems, of which none but himself could discern the object,
until the last movement being completed, presented the victim
of his craft pent up in an equitable defile from which there was
no escaping. If he attempted it on one side, there stood Vesey
Junior guarding the pass ; if on the other, his own Stackpoole
and Stackpoole (as just reversed in the Lords') stopped the
way; Hardwicke* and Camden overawed his rear; common
sense and the Attorney-General kept annoying his front, until
the keeper of the Irish seals, exhausted though unconvinced,
would frankly admit that he was " perplexed in the extreme,"
and, casting a wistful eye at Mr. Saurin, demand four-and-
twenty hours to clear his thoughts. It required, however, all
the authoritative ability of such a man as the late Attorney-
General to extract such an admission from his Lordship. To
others, whom there was less risk of provoking by impatience.

* Philip Yorke, born 1690, was the son of an attorney at Dover. Called to
the bar in 1714, he entered Parliament in 1718, and (though the youngest
counsel on the Western Circuit) was appointed Solicitor-General, in 1720, on
the recommendation of Lord Chancellor Macclesfield. In 1723, when he was
made Attorney-General, he refused to act on the impeachment of Lord Maccles-
field, his first patron, and defended him, in the House of Commons from the
attacks of Mr. Sergeant Pengelly. In 1733, was made Lord Chief-Justice of
England, and raised to the peerage, as Baron Hardwicke. He was appointed
Lord Chancellor in 1737, and during the twenty years he held that office, only
three of his judgments were even questioned, and these were confirmed, or.
appeal, by the House of Lords. In 1754 he was raised to an Earldom, and
resigned office in 1756. He died in 1764, leaving a reputation very high in-
deed. Hia knowledge of law and equity was great. So were his learning and
his ready application of it. Lord Mansfield, Burke, and the noted John Wilkes,
each characterized him in the same words — " When Hardwicke pronounced
his decrees, Wisdom herself might be supposed to speak." He trifled with
literature, which he liked. He wrote " The Legal Judicature in Chancery
stated," and, when only two-and-twenty,sent Addison a paper, on the disad-
vantage of young men going abroad too early : it has the signature Philip
Homebred, and forms No. 364 of The Spectator-* Sending a present of a hare,
he despatched the following epigram with it : —

" Mitto tibi leporem ; gratos mihi mitte lepores ;
§al mea commendat mum ra, vestra sales," — JVJ,

318 JOHN DOHEBTY.

he has always given it to be clearly understood that, when once
he had succeeded in forming an opinion, he did not expect to
be pressed by arguments against it. In doing this he did not
intend to be unjust ; he merely shrunk from the mental labor
of reinvestigating the grounds of a conclusion, at which, whether
right or wrong, he had found it no easy task to arrive : but the
consequence of his known irritability upon such occasions has
inevitably been to place a counsel in the embarrassing predica-
ment of either surrendering his case before it is thoroughly dis-
cussed, or of exposing himself by his perseverance to the im-
putation of being wanting in respect to the Court.

A Chancellor of Ireland is necessarily a politician, and I
confidently believe that Lord Manners had as anxious a wish
to be a beneficent statesman as to be a just judge, but it could
not be. He came to Ireland with the prejudices of the cradle
upon the questions that agitate her; and in a mind like his,
such prejudices are fondly cherished as easy of comprehension,
and saving the necessity of more laborious investigation. Tell
this amiable nobleman that the dread of Popery is no more
the foundation of British freedom than the fear of goblins is
the basis of religion, and he starts as if you proposed an im-
mediate dissolution of society. Insinuate that the only known
method of consolidating an empire is by communicating equal
rights and benefits to all its parts, and his prophetic eye be-
holds a picture inconceivably appalling — the Pope on the
throne of Ireland ; Doctor Doyle, Archbishop of Dublin ;* Mr.
O'Connell, Lord High-Chancellor ; Mr. Purcel O'Gorman, prin-
cipal Secretary for Papal affairs ; and, worse than all, Mr.
Sheil sworn in as Solicitor-General before he was actually more
than twenty years at the bar !

This chronic distemper of the mind has influenced almost

* Tlie Reverend James Doyle, D. D., Roman Catholic Bishop of Kildare
and Leighlin, was a very eminent writer on polemics and politics. His exam-
ination, in 1825, on the State of Ireland, taken before a Committee of the
House of Lords, was full of sound information, and excited general admiration.
His writings chiefly appeared with the signature J. K. L. — the initials of his
own Christian name and that of his diocese. Of Bishop Doyle a further nt*.
£ice will be found on page 382. — M.

LORD MANNERs's COMPANIONS. 319

all Lord Mann era's political acts : his government of the magis-
tracy, his recommendations to office, and (what in Ireland may
be called a political act) the selection of his personal favorites.
Even the speculators in a preposterous theology, which Lord
Manners never liked, found favor in his sight, in consideration
of their rapturous concurrence in his worldly misconceptions.
He was at all times willing to meet a senior or junior saint
anywhere but at the Bethesda, and to hear anything from their
lips except an extemporary exhortation. It was quite impossible
that a person so single-hearted and unsuspecting should fail
to be the frequent dupe of those intelligent devotees. It is
recorded of that ingenious personage, immortalized as Mr. Dex-
ter in the novel of " O'Donnell," that he was in the habit, for
his own shrewd purposes, of keeping close to the Irish Chan-
cellor (who is a keen sportsman, though an indifferent shot),
upon his shooting excursions through Lord Abercorn's grounds.
Every bird that rose was missed by the peer, and contempora-
neously brought down by his unerring companion, who, with
pretended mortification, and an effrontery of adulation known
only to Irish parasites, would bluster about the unfairness of
being anticipated in every shot ; and, after a clay thus turned
to good account, would bring back the illustrious sportsman
loaded with imaginary spoils, and exulting in his undiminished
accuracy of aim. It was not only in the fields of Barons Court
that his Lordship has been attended by men as dexterous as
Mr. Dexter. He was too obvious an instrument not to be sur-
rounded by practised political marksmen, who were ever ready,
for their own substantial objects, to give him all the use and
glory of their skill. Having no taste for general reading or
solitary meditation, he has dedicated his extra-judicial hours
to social ease, and naturally fell into a companionship with
those who were leas.t disposed to shake his faith in his preju-
dices. It was not in the Huguenot recollections of Mr. Sau-
rin, nor in the colloquial revelations of Mr. Sergeant Lefroy,
that a public functionary in Ireland could be expected to be
weaned of his political antipathies. The extent of those an-
tipathies, and their undeviating influence upon his Lordship's
acts, may be collected from a single fact. Amon^ tho

320 JOHN DOHERTY.

legal appointments in the gift of the Irish Chancellor, there are
about thirty commissionerships of bankrupts; and, during the
twenty years that Lord Manners has held the seals, not one
Catholic barrister has been named to a place.

An important branch of the Irish Chancellor's patronage,
and one that he has exercised with more profusion than any
of his predecessors, is the nomination of King's Counsel. The
subject demands a short notice of the nature and incidents of
this appointment. The legal fiction is (as the term imports),
that a certain number of barristers are selected to conduct the
necessary business of the Crown. In point of fact they are
utterly unnecessary, and, as such, unemployed for that pur-
pose. The business of the Crown can be, and is, fully dis-
charged by the Attorney and Solicitor General and the three
Sergeants upon important occasions; and, in ordinary matters,
by the several Crown-prosecutors, who are chosen indiscrimi-
nately from the bar. The Attorney-General is bound to pro-
vide for the proper conduct of Crown-prosecutions, and, as he
can not be present in his own person, he substitutes in his place
certain individuals, for whose efficiency he is responsible ; of
these a considerable portion, upon some of the circuits one half,
are at this moment stuff gowns. But however rarely the King
way in point of fact have occasion for the services of his nomi-
nal counsel, they are by a similar fiction of law presumed to be
at all times occupied with the business of the Crown, and there-
fore entitled to precedence in the Courts. This, to a barrister
of ordinary efficiency, is an important personal advantage. It
enables him to bring on his motions to a speedy decision, and
thus establishes, for those who enjoy the privilege, a profitable
monopoly of an extensive branch of general business. The
only exception is in the Rolls Court; where, by a regulation
of the present Master of the Rolls, the several motions for the
day are entered in a list according to the date of the notice,
and called on in regular rotation. There is, consequently, no
precedency among the counsel; and the result (which can
be scarcely accidental) is, that in that Court the great mass of
the very important business transacted there is distributed
among the membei%« of the outer bar. In all the other Courts

OBJECTIONS TO HIS PROMOTION. 321

a large portion of the general business is withdrawn from the
outer bar, and distributed among the privileged few. In com-
mon fairness, therefore, to the profession at large, and also to
the suitor, who ought to be left as uncontrolled as possible in
the selection of his counsel, personal privileges of this kind,
which thus work a detriment to others, should be very spar-
ingly conferred. In former times, a silk-gown was given as an
honorary distinction to an already eminent barrister, and not
as a recommendation to business. Thirty years ago there were
only sixteen King's Counsel, and since then the general busi-
ness of the bar has materially decreased. There are now
forty-three' — all, with a few exceptions, of Lord Manners's
creation. The number has, in fact, become so excessive, that
it has been found necessary to alter the old arrangement of the
Courts, in order to supply them all with seats. At the English
bar, where public opinion has some influence, there were, at the
commencement of the present year [1827], only twenty-eight
King's Counsel.

When Mr. Doherty was lately nominated to the vacant So-
licitor-Generalship for Ireland, Lord Manners interposed, and
for some weeks refused to swear him in. The measure was as
unprecedented as the reason assigned; namely, that the gen-
•tleman in question, who is of twenty years' standing, was too
youthful a barrister to be lifted over the heads of certain meri-
torious seniors. The principle sounded fairly enough in the
ears of the one or two who hoped to profit by it, but it had not
the slightest foundation in established usage. There has been
no such thing at the Irish bar as even a vague expectation that
promotion was to be regulated by length of standing, and least
of all, promotion to the office in question, which may be said
to partake more of a political than a legal character. It is only
necessary to refer to the appointments since the Union ; they
are as follows : —

Sir John Stewart, eighteen years at the bar.

Mr. O'Grady (now Chief Baron of the Exchequer), fifteen
years at the bar.

Mr. M'Cleland (now Baron of the Exchequer), thirteen years
at the bar.

H*

322 JOHN DOHERTY.

Mr. Plunket (now Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas), sev-
enteen years at the bar.

Mr. Bushe (now Chief-Justice of the King's Bench), thirteen
years at the bar.

The list closes with the present Attorney-General, Mr. Joy
[1827]. He had certainly obtained the maturity of standing,
which has at length been discovered to be so indispensable a
qualification; but who, that ever gave a thought to the reasons
for his appointment, does not know that he was made Solicitor-
General in 1822, not because he happened to be a Sergeant,
not because he was well stricken in legal years, but because there
was in his person a coincidence of professional and political
requisites which accorded with the project of a balanced Ad-
ministration. So far as the question of seniority is concerned,
he formed an exception to the general practice.

Overlooking, however, the objection that Mr. Doherty is not
old enough in his profession to be a " promising young man"
— a grave legal maxim, for which Lord Manners has the high
authority of Mr. Sergeant Flower — I would say that the po-
litical circumstances of Ireland afford some very serious reasons
for the selection of this gentleman, and the rejection of the
class of competitors that Lord Manners would have preferred.
The late purification of the British Cabinet* has opened new

* George Canning was appointed Governor-General of India in 1822, had
prepared for his departm-e, and publicly taken leave of his constituents at Liv-
erpool, when the Marquis of Londonderry (Castlereagb) committed suicide.
The foreign secretaryship thus became vacant. George IV. (who had not for-
given him for going to the Continent, and offering to resign his office of Presi-
dent of the Board of Control, rather than assist in the prosecution and persecu-
tion of Queen Caroline, whom he had spoken of in Parliament as "the
grace, life, and ornament of society") hesitated to appoint Canning. He did
so, however, and Canning thereby became the virtual head of the Administration,
the nominal head being Lord Liverpool, who was obliged to take large and
daily doses of ether to strengthen his nerves, and who confessed that, for years,
he had never received his letters in the morning without dreading to open
them, for fear that they should give him notice of an insurrection in some part
of the country. Croly (a Tory) says of him that his system was to glide on from
year to year, and think that his business was amply done, if the twelve months
passed without a rebellion, a war, or a national bankruptcy; to shrink from
every improvement in Tiis terror of change; and to tolerate every old abuse,
V^rough dread of giving the nation a habit of inquiry. Yet this man had ruled

323

prospects to the Catholics of Ireland, and (what a wise and
considerate government should never overlook) has inspired
their leaders with a sanguine and determined forbearance sel-

England, with a mind thus enfeebled, for fifteen years ! From 1822 until Feb-
ruary, 1827, when Lord Liverpool was attacked by paralysis, Canning may be
«aid to have ruled the country. Some weeks elapsed before Lord Liverpool's
place was filled up — in the interval (early in March }, Canning made a power-
ful speech in Parliament, in support of Catholic Emancipation, which was lost
by a majority of four only. At last, on April 12, 1827, it was announced that
Canning had been appointed Prime Minister. Suddenly and simultaneously,
Wellington, Peel, Eldon, and three others of Canning's colleagues in the Cab-
inet, resigned. He foraied a ministry consisting of liberals — but the Tories
formed a compact opposition, aided by " the old whigs," headed by Earl Grey.
This latter party, not very numerous then, consisted of those who thought that
certain noble families, on either side, had a sort of hereditary right to govern
the country. Perhaps, also, Lord Grey recollected that, in a keen satire on
" All the Talents," written by Canning, twenty years before, Temple's wit and
Sidmouth's firmness, had been slily contrasted with

" the temper of Grey,

And Treasurer Sheridan's promise to pay."

At all events, Lord Grey strongly and haughtily opposed Canning's ministry.
The Irish Catholics, who saw in the new Premier one of their most eloquent ad-
vocates, and who speedily felt the advantages accruing from the charges he
made personnalite of the Irish Government, naturally entertained the highest
hopes from the promotion of their friend. He had to contend, in ill health, with
a very strong and ruthless opposition in Parliament which " hounded him on to
death" (to use the words of Lord George Bentinck's accusation of Peel, at a
later day), and a Premier who would have carried out the most liberal meas-
ures, had he lived, died in the Duke of Devonshire's house, at Chiswick, near
London, on August 8, 1827, aged $7, in the very same room where, twenty-one
years' earlier, Charles James Fox had breathed his last — much about the same
age ; each being liberal in politics, each crowning the labors of a life of active
ambition, by finally obtaining the highest office — to hold it for a few months
and " die in harness." Canning was succeeded, as Premier, by Lord Gode-
rich, who had not talent or influence to govern. In January, 1828, the reins
of empire passed from his weak hands to those of Wellington — the avowed
opponent of the Catholic claims. Then, in despair and defiance, came the Clare
Election, which led, in the Duke's opinion, to one of two things — a civil war
or Catholic Emancipation. The soldier, sagacious by reason of his long expe-
rience in war, preferred to yield — on the plea of necessity. This he did in
1829. Next year, he was too proud to grant Parliamentary Reform, on the same
grounds, and was defeated. The Whigs came into power, headed by Lord
Grey, and after the severest Parliamentary struggle ever known — stretching
through two Parliaments and two years' excitement — was passed that reform

324 JOHN DOHEKTY.

dom manifested by the directors of a popular body. The skill
and prudence with which Mr. O'Connell and his colleagues, at
the risk of their popularity, have prevailed upon their ardent
countrymen to accommodate their temper to the exigencies of
the occasion, justly merited every practical acknowledgment
that could be tendered by the new Administration. Next to
the final consummation of their hopes, the Irish Catholics an-
nex the utmost importance to the official appointments of per-
sons in whom they can confide; and most of all in the case of
the legal advisers of the Crown, upon whose individual charac-
ters and political tenets they know by experience that the
decision of many questions affecting their interests depends.

But, however sensitive upon this point, they evinced no dis-
position, at the recent crisis, to embarrass the Government, by
exacting more than could be conveniently accorded. Though
well aware of Mr. Joy's hostility to their cause, they allowed
his personal claims to outweigh their wishes, and acquiesced,
as a matter of state necessity, in his elevation to the vacant
Attorney-Generalship ; but farther than this they could not be
expected to go. They saw that the Government was free to
choose his colleague, and very reasonably considered that their
feelings and interests should be consulted in the selection.
Had this expectation been baffled — had a political favorite of
Lord Manners been raised to a condition of suggesting subtle
reasons for disturbing the public tranquillity by the prosecution
of the Catholic leaders, the most disastrous results would have
ensued ; all confidence in the professions of the new Minister
would have been at an end. The Catholic Association would
have instantly exploded, and have been quickly involved in
angry collisions with the Government, fatal alike to their own
interests and to the stability of the Administration from which
they have so much to hope. These lamentable consequences
have, however, been prevented. The spirit of a better and
juster policy prevailed. Mr. Doherty was preferred ; and the
measure was no sooner announced, than its propriety was sanc-

in the parliamentary representation of the people, which now [1854] is to be
extended, on the ground of the incompleteness of the previous measure of
1832.— M.

OF HIS ftnBLic LIFE. 825

tioned by the public and unequivocal satisfaction of that body
which it was of such vital moment to conciliate.*

The mere legal duties of the office to which Mr. Doherty
has been called might be easily discharged by a person of pro-
fessional qualifications much inferior to his; but it embraces
other duties, demanding requisites of another and less common
kind. It is now notorious that the Catholic question (however
opinions may vary upon its relative importance) is the one
upon which the fate of administrations depends, and most pe-
culiarly the fate of the present administration. The Catholics
of Ireland, though not yet arrived at the maturity of strength
and influence in the empire which, when attained, must insure
an adjustment of their claims, have it at all times in their power
to resort to proceedings incompatible with the continuance of
their friends in office. Hence the relation of that body with
the Government of the country, at the present juncture, is one

* John Doherty, who was Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas in Ireland, for
twenty years, was called to the bar in 1808, made King's Counsel in 1823
Solicitor-General in 1827, and was Chief-Justice from 1830 until September,
1850, when he died. Doherty, related on the maternal side to Colonel Vemer,
M. P. for Armagh, and by his father's family to Canning, came into Parlia-
ment in 1826, as Member for Kilkenny. When Canning became Premier, he
raised Doherty to the position of Irish Solicitor. His knowledge of the science of
law was by no means extensive, but his sagacity was great, his industry exem
plary, and his sense of Justice pre-eminently powerful. It is said that of all
the opponents who measured weapons with O'Connell in Parliament, the most
successful, and certainly one of the most undaunted, was Mr. Doherty. Their
chief encounter took place in May, 1830, shortly before Doherty was made a
Judge, and O'Connell fiercely attacked him for his conduct as Crown lawyer,
in what was called The Doneraile Conspiracy. He was met and answered, at
all points, by Doherty, who (in the opinion of the Anti-0'Connellites, at least),
silenced, if he did not convince, his assailant. Peel had such a favorable rec-
ollection of this word-duel that, in 1834, when he formed his first ministry,
he solicited Doherty to resign his judicial office, and to return to the House of
Commons, as one of the Cabinet. This was declined, whereupon Peel repeat-
ed his entreaty, offering to raise him to the House of Lords. Chief-Justice
Doherty again declined, and Peel struggled on without his aid during the four
months of his bold experiment of governing against the popular will. In 1846,
before finally quitting office, it is said that Peel again offered a peerage to
Doherty, who was compelled to decline it, from want of means to provide for
the support of. the dignity, having entered largely into railway speculations,
during the preceding joint-sto ,k-bubble year, and thereby lost the bulk of his
fortune. — M.

DOHERTY.

of unexampled delicacy; and as such requires the nicest man-
agement in sustaining them under the fatigues of protracted
hope, and in preventing them from confounding inevitable de-
lays with an abandonment of their cause by their professed sup-
porters. It would be too much to expect that indications of
this latter feeling will not occasionally break out, and in forms
that may render it doubtful whether the due limits of popular
discussion have been observed. Upon such questions, when
they arise, the law-officers of the Crown will have to advise ;
and, to advise with discretion, they must have something more
than a knowledge of the law. There must be good temper,
good sense, good will toward the parties concerned, and a
strong public interest in preserving the state from the embar-
rassments that would follow a hasty prosecution. These im-
portant moral qualifications (if he be true to the tenor of his
past life) will be found in Mr. Doherty's official character; and
along with them a great practical skill in winning over the
tempers of others to a given object, which eminently fits him
for the task of mediating between the occasional effervescence
of his Catholic countrymen and the literal rigor of the law.
He will also — but I have pursued the subject far enough, and
in dwelling so long upon it I feel it to be only an act of com-
mon justice to an estimable individual to record the opinion of
the Irish public upon the cruel but unavailing attempt that has
been made to mar his prospects, and to bring discredit upon
the Government that thought him worthy of their trust.

The voice of the country in which Mr. Doherty is best known
has sustained him through this important crisis of his life. The
zeal with which his case was taken up by the Irish community,
though a merited, was a most essential service, and claims at
his hands every possible public return that he can make. He
may personally forgive the Irish Chancellor for the wrong in-
flicted on him ; but for the sake of others, if not for his own, he
must bear it keenly in his memory, and, stimulated by the rec-
ollection, make his future conduct a practical refutation of the
pretexts for crushing him, and thereby afford an unanswerable
justification of the Government that placed him where he is,
and of the public that so warmly approved of the choice.

Itf PARLIAMENT. 32

What is expected from him as an officer of the Crown I have
already intimated; but he will have other and more compre-
hensive opportunities of retorting upon Lord Manners his pub-
lic services. He will shortly resume his seat in the House of
Commons, under circumstances that will secure for him an
effective co-operation in every salutary measure that he pro-
poses; and he must not allow the indolence of success, or a
groundless diffidence, to restrain him from turning his facilities
to a useful account. Hitherto he has prudently abstained from
trusting his reputation to the precarious effect of sample-
speeches ; and his continued abstinence will be justly applaud-
ed, if he aspires to the better fame of making the statute-book
speak for him.

I have heard that he has for some time past been meditating
a simplification of the Irish bankrupt-law. This is a favorable
omen ; but his ambition, to be of service, must not be limited
to matters of subordinate moment. It would be neither easy
nor in place to enumerate here the various legislative wants of
Ireland ; but I can not avoid suggesting that there is one sub-
ject of the highest national interest as yet unappropriated by
any Irish member, and holding out an asssurance of the lasting
importance that follows public services to any competent indi-
vidual who shall make it his peculiar care : I allude to the
civilization of the Irish criminal code. Such a project would
be immediately within the scope of Mr. Doherty's studies and
experience ; much of the first and most deterring labor of the
task would be saved by the adoption of Mr. Peel's general
plan,* while enough would remain in the modifications required
by the particular state of Irish society, to give the undertaking
a higher character than that of a servile imitation.

* The late Sir Robert Peel was an eminently practical man of business: In
1817, when he was Irish Secretary, he introduced the excellent police system ,
now in operation in Ireland — from him the policemen are called Peelers. Thir- /\.
teen years later, he modified that system and adapted it to London, where it
continues to be very efficient. In 1826, he commenced his admirable attempts
to soften the rigor of our criminal code, and succeeded in mitigating the sever-
ity of laws, which, in consequence of their harshness, had become nearly inop-
erative. Nor, when he quitted office, in 1827 (on Canning's becoming Pre-
mier), did he relinquish this course of humanity and reason. — M.

THE DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

A LARGE district of Dublin, commonly called " The Lib-
erty," is occupied by the manufacturers of tabinet. This part
of the city exhibits at all times a disagreeable aspect. It is
a labyrinth of narrow lanes, composed of old and crazy
houses, and is choked with nastiness of every kind. Even
when its enormous population is in active employment, the
senses are shocked with much odious circumstance ; but when
labor is suspended, as is often the case, and the inhabitants are
thrown out of employment, a spectacle of wretchedness is pre-
sented in this quarter of the Irish metropolis, of Avhich it would
require the genius of Mr. Orabbe for the delineation of misery
to convey any adequate picture.

In the last month the manufacturing class have been with-
out occupation or food. I passed, not very many days ago,
through the district in which they chiefly reside, and do not
recollect to have ever witnessed a more distressing scene. The
streets may be said to have swarmed with want. With star-
vation and despair in their countenances, and with their arms
hanging in listlessness at their sides, hundreds of emaciated
men stood in groups at every corner. They gaped on every
person of the better class who chanced to pass them, with the
vacant earnestness of famine ; and when the equipage of some
pampered and vain-glorious citizen rolled by, it was painful
\ to observe in the expression of their faces the dumb compari-
son with their own condition, which was passing through their
minds.

The doors of the houses lay wide open, and, lighted up as
they were with the new arid brilliant sunshine of May, afforded

CASTLE PATRONAGE. 329

an insight into the recesses of internal wretchedness. Their
wives and children were seen huddled up together, with
scarcely a shred of raiment upon their discolored and ema-
ciated limbs.. Their beds and blankets had been transferred
to the pawnbrokers ; and of their furniture, nothing but the
mere fixtures remained. The ashes round the hearth seemed
to be of a week's standing; and it was easy to perceive that the
few potato-skins, scattered about the floor, were the relics of a
repast of no very recent date. Silence in general prevailed
through these receptacles of calamity, except that now and
then I heard the wailing of a child, who called with a feeble
cry for bread. Most of these houses of affliction were deserted
by the men, who stood in frightful gatherings in the public
way. But here and there I observed the wan but athletic
father of a family, sitting in the interior of his hovel, with his
hands locked upon his knee, surrounded by his children, of
whose presence he appeared to be scarcely conscious, and with
his wild and matted hair, his fixed and maddening eye, his
hard and stony lip, exhibiting a personification of despair;
and, if I may so say, looking like the Ugolino of "The
Liberty."

Whatever may be the faults of the Irish character, insensi-
bility to distress is not among them. Much substantial and
practical commiseration was exhibited among the higher
orders for the sufferings of the unfortunate manufacturers,
and various expedients were adopted for their relief. It
waa, among other devices of benevolence, suggested to the
Marchioness of Wellesley, that a public ball at the Rotunda
would be of use, and accordingly a " Tabinet Ball," under the
auspices of that fair and newly-ennobled lady, was announced.
The notice was given in order to afford the young ladies in
the country an opportunity of coming to town, and the llth
of May [1826] was fixed for the metropolitan fete. Peremptory
orders were issued at the Castle, that no person should appear
in any other than Irish manufacture. A great sensation was
produced by what in such a provincial town as Dublin may
be considered as an event. Crowds of families flocked from
all parts of the country ; and if any prudential grazier remou-

330 DttBLltt TABLET BALL.

strated against the expense of a journey to the metropolis, the
eyes of the young ladies having duly filled with tears, and
mamma having protested that Mr. O'Flaherty might as well
send the girls to a convent, and doom them to old-maidenhood
for life, the old carriage was ordered to the hall-door, and
came creaking into town, laden with the rural belles, who
were to make a conquest at the " Tabinet Ball." The arrival
of the important day was looked for with impatience, and
many a young heart was kept beating under its virgin zone
at the pleasurable anticipation. In the interval much good
was accomplished, and Terpsichore set the loom at work.
Every milliner's shop gave notes of profuse and prodigal prep-
aration.

At last the llth of May arrived, and at about ten o'clock
the city shook with the roll of carriages hurrying from all
quarters to the Rotunda. Not very long ago, Doctor Brinkley,
the astronomer,* took the noise of a newly-established manu-
factory for the indication of an approaching earthquake ; and
if he had not been removed since then from the contemplation
of the stars, he would, in all likelihood, have taken the con-
cussion of the Tabinet Ball night, for the earthquake itself,
The love of dancing is not among my addictions, and it is the
tendency of most persons of my profession to set up as a kind
of spurious Childe-Harolds upon occasions of this kind ; but
as the object of the ball was national, and I was solicitous to
take a close survey of Lord Wellesley and his Transatlantic
bride, I resolved to join the festive gathering, which charity
and its amiable patroness had assembled.

The Rotunda, where the ball was given, is a very beautiful
building, erected, I believe, by Sir William Ohambers,t and

* Dr. John Brinkley was an Englishman, born in 1760. He was educated
at Oxford, and was appointed, on the repute he had gained for his scientific
acquirements, to the Professorship of Astronomy in the University of Dublin.
He remained in this office until he was made Bishop of Cloyne. He died in
1835. He was the discoverer, in 1814, of the parallax of the fixed stars. — M.

t Sir William Chambers, architect, was a native of Scotland, and erected
Somerset House, in London, a palatial edifice of much beauty, appropriated to
offices for several of the Government departments. He wrote a valuable work
On "Civil Architecture," and died in 1796. He was knighted by the King of

THE IRISH LADIES. 331

it* one of those models of pure architecture with which Dublin
abounds. Upon entering it, how different was the scene from
that with which it was associated, and how strong a contrast
was presented between the gorgeous and glittering spectacle
before me, and that which I have endeavored to describe.
My mind still retained some of those mournful reflections
which the contemplation of misery had produced ; and when
I found myself surrounded with a blaze of intense and brilliant
illumination, and encompassed by a crowd glittering with
splendor, youth, and beauty, and moving in measure to exhil-
arating music, the naked and half- famish eel wretches, whom
I had seen so recently, rose like phantoms in my memory, and
my imagination went back to the abode of starvation, and to
" the house of wo." I did not, however, permit these melan-
choly reflections to lay any permanent hold upon me ; and in-
deed the recollection that pleasure was made in this instance to
minister to the relief of sorrow, should have reconciled a per-
son of a much more ascetic quality of mind than I am, to a
participation of the enjoyments of so brilliant a scene.

I question whether in London itself, however it may surpass
our metropolis in wealth and grandeur, more splendor in alli-
ance with good taste could readily be displayed. There was
an immense assemblage of young and beautiful women, dressed
in an attire which, instead of impairing, tended to set off the
loveliness of their aspects, and the symmetry of their fine
forms — that sweetness and innocency of expression which
characterizes an Irish lady, sat upon their faces; modesty,

Sweden. — Under the present regulations, no British subject can receive or as-
Rume any title conferred by a foreigner, nor wear the insignia of any foreign
Order, without special permission from his own sovereign. Foreign titles have
been conferred upon several British subjects. John Duke of Marlborough was
made a Prince of the Holy Roman Empire by the Emperor of Germany; Nel
son was created Duke of Bronte, in Sicily, with the grant of an estate, by the
King of Naples; Wellington, was made Duke of Ciudad Rodrigo, with an es-
tate, by the Junta of Spain, and Duke of Victoria by the Regent of Portugal,
as well as Prince of Waterl*, by the King of the Netherlands ; and Sir Charles
Napier, for his naval services in restoring Queen Donna Maria to the throne
of Portugal, was made Count Cape St. Vincent, by Don Pedro, having pre-
viously received a title from the King of the Two. Sicilies, for his gallant caj>
ttu'e of the Isle of Ponza. — M.

332 DUBLIN TABINET

kindness, and vivacity, played in their features ; and gracd
and joyousness swayed the movement of limbs which Chan-
trey would not disdain to select for a model.* While I was
looking upon this fine spectacle with some feeling of national
pride, it was announced that Lord Wellesley and the Mar-
chioness were about to enter the room. There was a sudden
cessation in the dancing, and the light airs to Avhich the crowd
had been moving were exchanged for the Royal Anthem. I
had never observed the Marquis so nearly as to form a very
accurate notion of him, and his beautiful American I had
never seen. I felt a strong curiosity about her. A Yankee,
and a Papist, turned into a Vice-Queen ! ! There was some-
thing strange in this caprice of fortune, and I was anxious to
see the person with whom the blind goddess had played so
fantastic a freak.f

* Francis Chantrey, one of the most celebrated of modern English sculp-
tors, and certainly without a superior as a bust-maker, was born in 1781, and
died in 1841, aged sixty. From childhood he had a taste for drawing and
modelling, and after serving his time to a carver and gilder at Sheffield, there
commenced painting portraits, which he soon gave up for making busts. One
of these, in the exhibition of the Royal Academy in London, brought him into
notice. He removed to London and speedily obtained numerous orders. His
busts were portraits in marble, full of character and individuality. In 1817, he
executed the monumental group of " The Sleeping Children" now in Lich-
field Cathedral, over whose simple beauty and touching repose many tears have
been shed. This poetic group was made, it is said, from a drawing by Stoth-
ard. Chantrey, who was elected a Royal Academician, and knighted, executed
the busts of nearly all the leading personages of his time, and several colossal
statues, in bronze, as public monuments. Of these, perhaps the most familiar,
which was also the last (and not erected until after he had died), was the Wel-
lington equestrian statue in front of the Royal Exchange, London. — M.

t The present Marchioness Wellesley, was Marianne, daughter of Richard
Caton, Esq., of Maryland, and widow of Robert Patterson. The marriage took
place in February, 1825, when Lord Wellesley was in his sixty-fifth, and the
bride in her thirty-first year. Her sister, Louisa Catherine Caton was mar-
ried in 1817, to Sir Felton Bathurst Harvey, became a widow in 1819, and
was married in 1828, to the present Duke of Leeds, then Marquis of Carmar-
then, The Marquis Wellesley's first wife, to whom he was married in 1794,
was Hyacinthe Gabriel, daughter of Mons. Roland. She died in 1816. She
had lived with the Marquis before marriage, and had two daughters then, but
no legitimate issue. One of these daughters, married in 1812 to Mr. Littleton
(now Lord Hatherton), was small in person, admirable in shape, charming in

AN AMERICAN VICE- QUEEN. 333

The Marchioness's name is Caton : she is the widow of
Mr. Patterson, find is thus allied, in some degree, with the
Bonaparte family. She came to Ireland, accompanied by her
sister, with no other object than to see the country. Having
been introduced to the most fashionable circles, she did not at
first disclose her religion, which might have been an obstacle
to the cordiality of her reception. Her addiction to Popery
was little suspected, as may be judged from her having been
selected by Mr. Saurin as his political confidante. It was at
a party at his house (so, at least, it is rumored in Dublin)
that she first revealed her leanings toward the Pope. The
learned gentleman, whose spleen to the religion of the coun-
try, considering his Huguenot descent and his fall from office,
ought to be forgiven, had indulged in violent tirades against
Lord Wellesley ; upon which the amiable widow did not .hint
a comment ; and he came to an attack upon Popery, although
some symptoms of uneasiness were displayed, yet for a long
time no remonstrance was made. Mr. Saurin was not inter-
rupted in his fleers at transubstantiation ; he was permitted to
indulge in some pleasantries at the expense of auricular con-
fession : certain interesting anecdotes touching the Borgia
family were allowed to pass ; but when he came to Prince
Hohenloe, and opened a battery upon Bamberg, the widow
could hold no longer; and, turning upon Mr. Ex- Attorney-
General, proclaimed herself a Papist. The dismay produced
by this intimation may be more readily conjectured than
described. Whether a slight flush came over the calm and
corrugated countenance of the host has not been stated in the
common report of this agreeable incident; but it is said that
the fair American volunteered her interposition with Prince
Hohenloe, on behalf of her friend, in order to procure his
restoration to office, having observed, by way of parenthesis,
that nothing less than a miracle could accomplish so appa-
rently improbable an event.

manner, intellectual in conversation, and so beautiful in face that the Emperor
Alexander, of Russia, who saw her (on his visit to England, in 1814, with the
test of the Allied Sovereigns), declared that she was the loveliest human being
eyes had ever looked at and been dazzled by. Lady Hatheiton died in Janu-
ary, 1849. — M.

334: DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

Not very long after this convivial incident, Mrs. Patterson
was introduced at court, and Lord Wellesley was almost
instantaneously struck with admiration of charms, of which
one hundred and fifty thousand pounds were said to constitute
a part.* Her wealth was, however, greatly exaggerated hy
vulgar report; and the Marquis is, I helieve, the very last
man who would be disposed to take it into a matrimonial cal-
culation. Though Hymen is sometimes addicted to the study
of arithmetic, yet Lord Wellesley would never set him this
inglorious task. He offered Mrs. Patterson his hand, and was
accepted. In such a town as Dublin, so provincial in every-
thing, and more especially in religion, the marriage of a lord-
lieutenant to a Roman Catholic lady excited no ordinary
sensation. The Catholics conceived that their creed would
receive a sanction from a pair of beautiful eyes at the Castle ;
the priests expected that she would drive in state to chapel ;
and Messrs. O'Connell and Sheil did not despair that her love
of legitimate rhetoric might induce her to go in disguise to the
gallery of the Catholic House of Commons. The hopes of
the Popish party were not a little confirmed by the nomina-
tion of her private chaplain, in the person of the good-humored
and cheerful-spirited Mr. Glynn. The Orange faction, and
especially the saints, looked on the approaching event with, a
sentiment of corresponding alarm. It was idle, they said, to
expect, on the part of Lord Wellesley, any very rigid adhe-
rence to the principles of the Protestant religion. How pow-
erful must be the influence of a young and a beautiful wife
upon a man of careless or vacillating opinions.

These apprehensions were not a little augmented by the
announcement that the Catholic archbishop was to celebrate

* There are many reasons for believing that the " lady" though rich in personal
charms, and moderately independent in circumstances, was by no means s<f
wealthy as was reported. Her present pecuniary resources are understood to
be inconsiderable. I am in doubt whether she does not receive a pension fiom
the British Government or the East India Company (both of whom Marquis
Wellesley had served faithfully and with distinction), but I know that Queen
Victoria has granted her a residence in Hampton Court Palace, a " refuge for
the destitute" among the aristocracy, in which many pauper zed people of rank
are "-cut-free, — M.

THE VICEROY AND HIS BRIDE. 335

the marriage. Lord Wellesley was anxious to indulge his
bride in this selection ; but Dr. Magee and his partisans pre-
vailed. It was settled that the Doctor should have prece-
dence ; and that, after he had " incorporated two in one," the
rival hierarch should be introduced by a postern gate, and
allay the Marchioness's religious scruples by a sacramental
confirmation of the nugatory formalities, which should have
been previously gone through by the Protestant divine. By
this arrangement, politics and theology were felicitously recon-
ciled. Dr. Magee went through the ceremony with his usual
briskness and alacrity; and so sweet and winning was the
smile with which the lady responded to the matrimonial pre-
cept— to love, honor, and obey — that the doctor is said to
have protested that Gospel truth shone through her eyes.
Such is the fascination of beauty, even upon a mind so highly
spiritualized as the doctor's, that, since this heterodox mar-
riage, a considerable and even suspicious mitigation of his
opinions has been observed. The influence of the Marchioness
is matter of universal comment ; and, upon a recent occasion,
it was remarked that the Right Reverend Father in God had
acted as cicisbeo to this " dangerous Papist," and had accom-
panied her to the principal mart for the sale of baby-linen in
Dublin.

These circumstances had surrounded the Marchioness with
much interest, and will account for the curiosity which I
felt to see her. I stood in no little suspense, when it wras
announced that the noble pair were making their triumphant
entry into the Rotunda. Followed by a gorgeous retinue of
richly-decorated attendants, the Viceroy and his consort ad-
vanced toward the immense assembly, who received them with
acclamation. She was leaning upon his arm. He seemed
justly proud of so fair a burden. The consciousness of so
noble a possession had the effect upon him which the inspira-
tions of Genius were said to have produced upon a celebrated
actor, and he looked " six feet high," compact and well knit
together, with great alertness in his movements, and with no
further stoop than sixty winters have left upon him, with a
searching and finely irradiated eye, and with cheeks which,

336 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

however furrowed, cany but few traces of the tropics. The
victor of Tippoo Saib, and the conqueror of Captain Hock,
entered the Rotunda.* I am not quite sure that there was not
a slight touch of melo-dramatic importance in his air and man-

* In 1821, when George IV. visited Ireland — the first sovereign who had
ever landed on her shore, in friendly mood — all parties united in giving him
an enthusiastic reception. This unanimity of " loyalty" (as the lip-service is
called, across the Atlantic), was in strong contrast ^with the hooting and hisses
with which, at that time, the " illustrious" Sybarite was greeted in London, on
account of his ill-conduct toward his wife. He was aa grateful for this kindness
(as unmerited as it was unexpected), and assented to the politic proposition
of his Ministers that Ireland should be treated more kindly than of yore. When
he left Dublin, he earnestly recommended the Irish (in a farewell epistle com-
municated through Lord Sidmouth, the Home Secretary), no longer to allow
their religious distinctions to be the c'ause of public animosity, or personal bit-
terness.— Soon after, the Tory Viceroy, Earl Talbot, was recalled, and Marquis
Wellesley, a distinguished Irishman, elder brother of the Duke of Wellington,
and a proved advocate of the Catholic claims, was sent to Dublin as his succes-
sor, in December, 1821. The Catholics rejoiced at his appointment as much
as the political-Protestants grieved. He endeavored to govern with impartial-
ity, but could not please all parties. In 1828, when the Duke of Wellington
became Premier, and was avowedly hostile to Catholic Emancipation, Lord Wei
lesley resigned his post, but resumed it, in 1833, under the liberal Government
of Earl Grey. He finally quitted Ireland, at the end of 1834, on the forma-
tion of Sir Robert Peel's first administration. The chief fault of Lord Welles-
ley, as Viceroy, was an overweening opinion of his own importance. What
the Bourbon said (Vetat Jest moi) was Lord Wellesley's entire conviction. He
was born in 1760 ; educated at Eton ; succeeded his father, as Earl of Morning-
ton, in 1781 ; sat in the Irish House of Lords, and in the English House of
Commons (first as member for Beeralston and then for New Windsor) ; was
made one of the Lords of the Treasury, and Privy Councillor in 1793, and cre-
ated an English peer in 1797, when he succeeded Earl Cornwallis in the Gov-
ernment of India; triumphed over Tippoo. Saib and conquered the kingdom of
Mysore, with the aid of his brother Colonel Wellesley (afterward The Duke) ;
was rewarded by an Irish Marquisate in 1799 ; was recalled, at his own request,
in 1805 ; was sent as Ambassador to the Supreme Junta of Spain in 1809 ;
became Foreign Secretary on the formation of the Perceval Ministry in tho
same year; retired early in 1812, chiefly because he differed from his colleagues
on the Catholic question ; and continued in opposition until his appointment to
Ireland in 1821. In 1835, he was Lord Chamberlain, under the Melbourne
Ministry, for a short time. He died in September, 1842, in his eighty-third
I year. His mother, who died in 1831, lived to see four of her sons attain seata
I in the House of Lords, solely by their merits, and as rewards of public ser-
1 vicei.— M

MOCKERY OF STATE. 337

ner ; and, with a good deal of genuine dignity, it occurred to
me that there was something artificial and theatrical in his
entrance upon a stage, in which ephemeral majesty was to be
performed. It was said by Voltaire of a real monarch, that
no man could so well perform the part of a king. " Le Role
de Roi," is a phrase which, amounting to a truism, loses its
force, perhaps, when applied to a lord-lieutenant.

Lord Wellesley seemed to me to personate his sovereign
with too elaborate a fidelity to the part, and to forget that he
was not in permanent possession of the character upon a stage
which was under the direction of such capricious managers,
and that he must speedily relinquish it to some other actor
upon our provincial boards. He is, unquestionably, a man of
very great abilities ; a speaker of the first order ; a statesman
with wide and philosophic views, who does not bound his pros
pects by any artificial horizon. He has great fame as a poli-
tician, and has the merit of having co-operated with Mr.
O'Connell in the pacification of Ireland.

With these intrinsic and substantial claims to renown, it is
strange that he should rely so much upon the gewgaw of a
spurious court for his importance, and be in love with the
raree-show of vice-regal honors. A throne surmounted with a
gorgeous canopy of gold and scarlet was placed at the extrem-
ity of the room for his reception ; and to this seat of mock
regality he advanced with his vice-queen, with a measured
and stately step. When he had reached this place of dignity,
his suite formed themselves into a hollow square, and excluded
from any too familiar approach the crowd of spectators that
thronged around. A sort of boundary was formed by the lines
of aid-de-camps, train-bearers, and pursuivants of all kinds. I
presumptuously advanced to the verge of this sacred limit,
when I was checked by an urchin page of about ten years of
age, who, dressed in flaming scarlet, and with his epaulets
dropping in woven gold to his heels, seemed to mock the con-
sequence of his noble master, and with an imperious squall he
enjoined me to keep back. I obeyed this Lilliputian despot,
and retired one or two paces, but stood at such a distance as
to enable me to survey the hero and heroine of the scene,

VOL, 1-15

DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

The Marquis was dressed in a rich uniform, with a profusion
of orders. He wore white pantaloons, with short boots lined
with gold, and with tassels of the same material. The Mar-
chioness was dressed in white tabinet, crossed with a garland
of flowers. She struck me at once not only as a very fine, but
dignified woman. Nobody would have suspected that she had
not originally belonged to that proud aristocracy to which she
has been recently annexed. She has nothing of la bourgeoise
parvenue. I was surprised at the gracefulness with which she
executed her first courtesy, and the ease with which, in recov-
ering from it, she brought herself back to the altitude of state-
liness which I presume had been prescribed to her for the
night. Her figure appeared to me to be peculiarly well pro-
portioned. Her arms and shoulders, though less suited to Hebe
than to Pomona, are finely moulded ; and of her waist I may
justly say that it is —

" Fine by degrees, and beautifully less."

Her features approach to the classical model : they have noth-
ing of that obtuseness which in Ireland is frequently observable
in countenances animated by the vivacity of youth, but which
lose their charm when the vividness of the eye becomes im-
paired, and the bloom of the cheek has begun to pass away.
The profile of Lady Wellesley is at once marked and delicate.
Her complexion has not that purity and milkiness of color
which belong to Irish beauty, but it is not, perhaps, the less
agreeable from having been touched by a warmer sun. Her
brows are softly and straightly pencilled ; her cheeks are well
chiselled, and an expression of permanent mildness sits upon
her lips, which I do not regard as artificial and made up. Yet
I think it too unvarying and fixed. Her smile is so sedate
and settled, that, although I had several occasions to observe
her, her countenance seemed for hours not to have undergone
the least change of expression. Some allowance ought to be
made for this immovable serenity, which it may be proper
upon a state occasion to assume ; but I am inclined to think
that this monotonous suavity is not the mere smile of elaborate
affability, but upon a face less beautiful would amount to m

VICE-BEQAL PARADE. 339

eternal simper. If I were called upon to point out, among the
portraitures of fictitious life, an illustration of the Marchioness
of Wellesley, I do not think that with reference to her air, her
manners, the polish and urbanity of her address, and the pla-
cidity of her expression, I could select any more appropriate
than the English heroine of Don Juan —

" The Lady Adeline Amundeville."

The Marquis and the copartner of his honors, and sole ten
ant of his heart, having made their obeisance to the company,
seated themselves upon the throne; and I can not help saying
that, when I saw them surrounded with all the superfluous cir-
cumstance of sovereignty, and going through the mock-regal
farce, as if the whole business were not an idle and most un-
substantial pageant, I felt pain at this voluntary exposure to
the ridicule of their political opponents, who seemed to gather
round for 110 other purpose than to pay their derisive and sar-
donic homage. Upon what pretence these airs of royalty were
assumed I could not even guess. The gentry of Dublin were
assembled, at the instance of Lady Wellesley, to contribute to
the promotion of Irish manufacture. This was assuredly no fit
occasion for the "unreal mockery" of evanescent pomp. I
question whether, under such circumstances, it would be proper
in a genuine king to indulge in regal parade. But it appears
to me to be out of all keeping, and to amount to no venial sin
against good taste on the part of the mere shadowy representa-
tive of a sovereign, to invest himself in monarchical state, and
all " the attributes to awe and majesty."

The deportment of his Excellency tended to enhance the
burlesque of the whole business. He affected all the noncha-
lance of a person accustomed to royalty. His attitude was stu-
diously careless, while that vivid physiognomy, of which, with
all his practice in courts, he is not the absolute master, betrayed
his anxiety for the production of effect. One of his legs was
thrown heedlessly over the other, to "indicate that he was per-
fectly at his ease; but, at the same time, his piercing and sa-
gacious eye seemed to search amidst the crowd for that rever-
ence both to his person and to his office, to which he surmised
perhaps, that he possessed a somewhat disputable claim,

340 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

I was not a little amused when his Excellency's eyes encoun-
tered those of that redoubtable champion of ascendency, the
Reverend Sir Harcourt Lees.* My English readers, who have
only known Sir Harcourt through the medium of his loyal
celebrity, and who have never seen the prodigy himself, may
be disposed to think Sir Harcourt a gaunt and dreary man,
with a fanatical and desolate look, and with that grim aspect
of devotion which characterized the warlike propagators of
Protestantism under the Oromwellian standard. But nothing
could be more remote from the plain realities of Sir Harcourt
than this " beau-ideal" of that distinguished personage. As
he was the next person in importance to Lord Wellesley at the

* Sir Harcourt Lees, who was born in 1776, and died in 1846, was the eldest
son of an Englishman who came to Ireland to officiate as private Secretary to
Marquis Townshend, when Viceroy, and was successively made Secretary-at-
War, and Secretary to the Irish Postoffice — with a patent, continuing the lat-
ter office in his family. Under this patent, Edward S. Lees, the second son,
succeeded, and held the office, in Dublin, for many years, until he was induced to
surrender the document, and was appointed to the postoffice in Edinburgh, where
he died, after forty-six years public service. The founder of the family, who
was thus solicitous to provide for his offspring, was further honored with a bar-
onetcy. His eldest son, Harcourt, succeeded to the title in 1811, on the death
of Sir John Lees, received valuable church-preferment, which, with his patri-
monial property, enabled him to live in good style, at Black Rock, near Dub-
lin. One of the mildest and most good-natured men in private, he was bold,
abusive, and truculent in public. He was an Orangeman, and violent, beyond
all precedent, in his abuse of " O'Connell, the Pope, and the Devil" — for he
always named the three in one breath. He started a weekly newspaper called
" The Antidote," in which he was wont to empty the vials of his wrath upon
the Catholics in general, and Mr. O'Connell in particular. He was accustomed
to predict, once every three months or so, that there would be a general rising
of the disaffected throughout Ireland, and he was perpetually sending petitions
to the King, the Lords, and the Commons, praying them to " put down
Popery" and, above all, to send O'Connell to the Tower. When "The Anti-
dote" went the way of many violent party journals — i e. " to the wall," — Sir
Harcourt transferred his lucubrations to " The Warder," another weak and
weekly organ of the Orange faction. His handwriting was the most illegible
scrawl — just as if an intoxicated spider had fallen into an inkstand, and then
crawled and scrawled over a sheet of paper. It is to Sir Harcourt' s credit that
in his charities, which were great, he made no distinction on account of reli-
gion ; to want was sufficient claim on the benevolence of this most eccentric
man. He was much liked by the Catholics whom he employed, and was on
&0rms almost friendly with O'Connell, against whom he was always writing. — JVJ

SIR HARCOtJRT LEES.

Cabinet Sail, it may not be inapposite to say a word or two
about him.

For many years he was unknown to the public, and among
his own immediate friends was regarded as a harmless and
somewhat simple man, who could discuss a bottle of claret
much better than a homily, a daring fox-hunter, and a good-
humored divine, who would have passed without any sort of
note, but for certain flashes of singularity which occasionally
broke out, and exhibited points of character at variance with
his general habits. What was the astonishment of all Dublin,
when it Avas announced that this plain and unobtrusive lover
of the field was the author of a pamphlet filled with the most
virulent and acrimonious matter against the religion of the
country, and which almost amounted to a call on the Protest-
ant population to rise up in arms and extirpate Popery from
the land ! The incongruous images, the grotesque associations,
and the mixture of drollery and absurdity, indicated some dis-
temper in the writer's mind ; but the political passions which
raged at the time prevented the Protestants from perceiving
the symptoms of delirium in what they took for inspiration.

Sir Harcourt became a public man. I had never seen him
before the publication of his book, and was a good deal sur-
prised to find that all this uproar had been produced by a little
lumpish man, who rather looked like a superannuated jockey
than a divine, with an equestrian slouch in his walk, and the
manger in his face, and with a mouth the graceful configuration
of which appeared to have been formed by the humming of
that stable-melody with which the application of the curry--
comb is generally accompanied.*

* Sir Harcourt Lees dressed very much unlike a, clergyman — or even a gen-
tleman. A rusty and broad-brimmed hat covered his head. He shaved some-
times, and the unfrequency did not improve his face. Round his neck was
twisted a sort of rope of cambric, .which probably had been white. On his back
was a shabby black coat, much too large for him, which appeared guiltless, sinco
it was built, of the slightest coquetiy with a clothes-brush. The rest of his body
was contained within a capacious pair of drab inexpressibles, his legs weie en«
rased in riding-boots wi'h light brown tops, and his hands were never ' pent
up" on any occasion, in ihe " Utica" of a pair of gloves. He always carried a
huge horsewhip, and, w1 Aether he walked or rode, perpetually whistled " The
Fox-hunter's Jig." — M.

DUBLIN TABtNict BAH.

After looking at this singular figure which the tutelary ge-
nius of the Church had chosen for its residence, I gave up all
my belief in physiognomy, and renounced Lavater for ever.
I have since heard that the doctrines of Gall are by no means
so much contradicted by the head of this celebrated person as
the theory of the Swiss philosopher is refuted by his face ; and
that divers protuberances are observable upon Sir Harcourt's
pericranium, in which vanity, ferocity, and ambition, together
with certain other of the polemical faculties, may be easily
discerned. It is even whispered that a disciple of Gall, who
recently came over from Edinburgh, discovered some bumps
upon the head of Doctor Magee, between which and the skull
of Sir Harcourt there was a remarkable affinity. In the for-
mer there was a much larger quantity of brain, but the theo-
logical passions of Sir Harcourt are not less prominently pro-
nounced. It has been added, but I can not take upon myself
to say with what truth, that a curious speculator in that fantas-
tic science has caused the skull of the last Sir Thomas Osborne
to be dug up, and that the resemblance between Sir Harcourt
and that eminent author is truly surprising.

But I feel that I am digressing. Enough to say that Sir
Harcourt's success in his first essay against Popery led to other
achievements in controversy, and that he was at length recog-
nised beyond all dispute as the most appropriate champion of
the Irish Church. His whole character may be summed up in
a single sentence of Swift : " He hath been poring so long upon
Fox's ' Book of Martyrs,' that he imagines himself living in the
reign of Queen Mary, and is resolved to set up as a knight-
errant against Popery."

The meeting between the Marquis Wellesley and this cele-
brated person at the Tabinet Ball excited all my attention. I
did not perceive the latter, until a certain expression of defi-
ance, which suddenly came into the Marquis's face, directed
my notice to the quarter toward which he was looking, when I
beheld, exactly opposite his Excellency, the chief though not
very majestic pillar of the Establishment. The worthy Baro-
net had thrown an expression of derision into his countenance,
and did not look very unlike a picture of Momus upon Mr. Lis-

THE HEIR OF THE GEEALtHNES. 343

ton's snuff-box.* The Marquis might readily have conjectured
that he was laughing at him, and that the recollection of his
Excellency's exploits was not a little amusing. Seated upon
the throne, with his clinched hand resting upon his thigh, and
his marked and diplomatic visage protruded in all the intensity
of expression for which it is remarkable, the most noble and
puissant Marquis shot his fine and indignant eyes into the soul
of his antagonist; while Sir Harcourt, with a half-waggish and
half-malevolent aspect, blending the grin of an ostler with the
acrimony of a divine, encountered the lofty look of the chief
governor of Ireland with a jocular disdain, and gave him to
understand that a man of his theological mettle was not to be
subjugated by a frown. This physiognomical encounter lasted
for a few minutes ; and but that Master Ellis, touching Sir Har-
court upon the shoulder, relieved the Marquis from his glance,
the result would in all probability have been, that, indignant
at the spirit of mockery that pervaded the features of the Bar-
onet, his Excellency would have yielded to his emotions, and,
starting up in a paroxysm of imaginary royalty, have exclaimed,
"Ay, every inch a king!"

The next person in importance to Sir Harcourt was his Grace
the Duke of Leinster.t With the highest rank, and a magnifi-

* John Listen, the best low comedian of his time, possessed much natural
humor, naturally illustrated by peculiar features which, whether in repose
or action, were remarkably mirth-exciting. The moment an audience saw his
face, they felt compelled to laugh. He had the merit, rare in actors, of not
playing to his audience : what he said and did was apparently irrespective of
any spectators. He was of a very melancholy temperament, though he caused
wit and mirth in others. He realized a large fortune, at the London theatres.
In 1831 te had one hundred pounds sterling a week from Madame Vestris,
at the Olympic (a small theatre, in an inconvenient by-street), and remained
on this engagement for the last six years of his professional life. Ten years
elapsed between his retirement and his death, which took place in 1846, in his
sixty-ninth year. — M.

t The Duke of Leinster — "Ireland's only Duke" and premier Marquis, is
head of the noble house of Fitzgerald, the founder of which came to England
with William the Conqueror, in 1066. Maurice Fitzgerald, who accompanied
Henry II., in 1172, and assisted in the subjugation of Ireland was rewarded
with a large grant of land in Leinster, and was appointed one of the Governors
of the conquered country. His son Gerald, was created Lord of Offaley, in 1216,
which title continues, held "by tenure" — which marks its antiquity. The

344 DUBLIN TABIKET BALL.

cent estate, and with a name to which so many national recol
lections are painfully but endearingly allied, it must be con
fessed that the first peer in Ireland, notwithstanding so many
claims upon the public respect, is less sensibly felt, and pro-
duces an impression less distinct and palpable, than the re-
nowned champion of the Church. The one is at the head of
the nobles and the other of the Protestants of Ireland ; and
however insane the alacrity of Sir Harcourt may appear, there
is something in enthusiasm, be it genuine or affected, which is
preferable to the inactive honesty and the inoperative integrity
of the Duke. The latter is descended from the first Norman set-
tlers in Ireland. The Fitzgeralds gradually became attached
to the country, and were designated as the ultra-Irish, from the
barbarous nationality, of which, in the course of that series of
rebellions dignified by the name of Irish history, they gave
repeated proof. They were of that class of insurgents who
earned the ignominious appellation of "Hibernis ipsis Hibernio-
res" I recollect to have seen their pedigree upon a piece of mould-
ering parchment, which was produced at a trial in Waterford,
connected with the royalties of Dromona, and had been brought
by a messenger from the Tower in London. It was a very
remarkable document. The words " attainted" or " beheaded"
were annexed to the names of more than half the members of
this illustrious house.

The love of Ireland appears to have been a family disease,

representative of this house was created Earl of Kildare, in 1316, and the hol-
der of this Earldom was made Viscount Leinster, in the English peerage, in
1745-'6. The Irish Marquisate of Kildare was conferred, in 1761, and the
Dukedom in 1766. The present Duke of Leinster, who lives mostly in England,
has always professed Whig principles, which are usually anti-Irish. Born in
1791, the Duke was only in his seventh year, when his gallant and unfortunate
•mcle, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, perished, in 1798. So much undistinguished
has the Duke's life been (the Irish significantly call him " a chip in porridge")
that the only noticeable thing connected with him, recorded on the tablets of
my memory, is the anecdote of his visiting Beau Brummell, at his retreat iu
Caen. The Duke, who was fresh from Paris, where he had availed himself of
the adorning aid of a French tailor, asked the Beau what he thought of his
coat? Brummell, taking hold of the collar of it delicately, between his finger
and thumb, smiled contemptuously and drawled out, " My dear fellow, do you
call this thing— a coat?" — M.

LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD. 345

and to have descended to the unfortunate Lord Edward as a
malady of the heart, although the sanguinary record of the
virtues of his house did not include his name; hut it was
impossible to look upon that memorial of the scaffold, without
recalling the memory of the celebrated person whose failure
constituted so large a portion of his crime.* It may he readily
imagined, that when the Duke of Leinster returned to Ireland
after having attained his full age, in order to take possession

* Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whose tragic fate has excited much sympathy,
was only thirty-five years old, in 1798, when the Irish insurrection broke out.
He served in America as aide-de-camp to Lord Rawdon, and on his return
home, in 1783, obtained a seat in the Irish House of Commons, which he did
not long retain, finding legislation insipid. He returned to America, where
he imbibed republican principles. William Cobbett, who was Serjeant-Major in
his regiment, was discharged through his influence, and described him as " a
most humane and excellent man, and the only real honest officer he ever knew
in the army." On Lord Edward's return, in 1790, he re-entered Parliament : vis-
ited Paris, during the Revolution, got acquainted with Paine ; desired his
mother to address him as " Le Citoyen Edward Fitzgerald," assisted at a pub-
lic dinner in celebration of the successes of the French armies ; publicly re-
nounced his title ; declared himself a republican ; and, in consequence, was
dismissed the British army. He married Pamela, supposed to be Madame de
Genlis' daughter by the Duke of Orleans (Egalite) ; returned to Dublin ; became
one of the United Irishmen, joined an armed association against which the
Viceroy issued a proclamation ; made a Parliamentary attack on the Viceroy %••',•„
and the majority of the House of Commons, as being " the worst subjects the ~/\
King had;" — apologized by saying, "I am sony for it;" went to Paris, to en-
gage the Directory to aid the contemplated revolt against British authority;
was suspected by the Government, who issued a warrant for his apprehension,
but gave him several opportunities of escape, which he declined, saying he was
too much involved with others to obtain safety without dishonor; had a thou-
sand pounds offered for his apprehension ; was discovered in a place of con-
cealment; killed one of his pursuers with a dagger; was himself wounded and
overpowered ; and died soon after, in June, 1798. He was attainted, as a traitor,
by the Crown, and one of Curran's best speeches was against the injustice of
their assuming the guilt of a man neither tried nor convicted, and of debarring
his children from their birth-right. The attainder was removed by George IV.,
which elicited a sonnet of thanks from Lord Byron. The widow of Lord Ed-
ward went to reside at Hamburgh, but married again within two years. There
appears to have been only one opinion, and that most favorable, of the frank
nature, the chivalrous bearing, the active benevolence, the high honor, the gal-
lant courage, and the unselfish patriotism of Lord Edward He was uncle to
the present Duke of Leinster. — M.

It*

DUBLIN CABINET BALL.

of his estates, he was an object of great national interest
The associations connected with his name had already secured
him the partialities of the country. His frank arid open air,
the unaffected urbanity of his manners, the kindness and cor-
diality which distinguished his address, and an expression of
dignified good nature in his physiognomy, brought back the
recollection of Lord Edward, and gave to his young kinsman
a share in the affectionate respect with which the guilty patri-
otism of that chivalrous nobleman is regarded in Ireland.
Few were sufficiently rash to desire that the Duke of Leinster
should engage in an enterprise so little likely to be successful,
as that which cost Lord Edward his life. Almost all men had
become sensible of the hopelessness of such an undertaking:
but it was expected that, while the chief of the house of
Fitzgerald would abstain from any criminally adventurous
speculation, he Avould, notwithstanding, 'place himself at the
head of the popular party; that he would rally round him
the friends of the country; that he would extend to good
principles the authority of his rank, and rescue the spirit of
Irish whiggism from the scoff with which it Lad been the
fashion in the higher circles to deride it.

A scope of political usefulness was unquestionably given to
the Duke. It would have been easy for him to raise up a
legitimate and salutary opposition to the abuses of the local
government, which were at that time excessive, and to have
awed. the viceregal despotism of the Duke of Richmond into
moderation. There was enough of public virtue left among
the aristocracy, to turn it to good practical account, if there
had been any man capable of giving it a direction ; and of all
others, the young Duke of Leinster, from his paramount rank
and hereditary station, seemed to be calculated to take the
honorable lead. What might not a Duke of Leinster, with
even ordinary abilities, and with an active, steadfast, and
energetic mind, accomplish in this country ? He might place
himself at once in the front of a vast and ardent population,
and become not only the protector of the Catholics, but the
director of the whole body of liberal Protestants in Ireland.
The distinctions of sect would, under his influence, be merged

tttE DUKE OF LETtfSTEfc.

in the community of country, and all religious animosities
way to a comprehensive and philosophical sentiment of nation- {
ality. He would be the point of contact, at which the con-
tending factions- might meet and cohere together. His rank
and property would attract the men who profess illiberal
opinions as much out of fashion as out of prejudice; while the
democratic parts would find in his name and blood a sufficient
guaranty for his fidelity to Ireland. Having been once asso-
ciated in a stricter intimacy, it is likely that the enthusiasts on
both sides would lay down a large portion of their antipathies,
and acquire a feeling of forbearance toward each other. Par-
tisanship would in a little time subside, and Catholics and
Orangemen w^ould enter into a pacific confederacy for the
public good.

Such a junction, formed under the auspices of a Duke of
Leinster, would secure to him the respect of a wise, and the
fears of a corrupt administration. His opinions among the
hereditary counsellors of the crown would carry a paramount
authority. His voice in the senate would be that of seven mil-
lions of his fellow-countrymen ; Ireland would speak through
him. The consciousness of the minister that, in times of
difficulty and of danger, the Irish people could readily find a
man -who would insist upon justice — who, sustained by a
united population, could insure whatever he required — would
instruct the most arbitrary statesman in the anticipating wis-
dom of concession. It is difficult to conceive a more lofty or a
more useful part, than that which it would be easy for a Duke
of Leinster to perform ; and the facility with which this ideal
picture would be realized, induces the more regret that a per-
son surrounded with such numerous opportunities of doing
good should have omitted the splendid occasions thrown by
birth and fortune in his way. He has voluntarily consigned
himself to oblivion.

It required, indeed, that he should make a sort of effort to
be forgotten. He has at last succeeded in sinking out of the
recollection of the public. He has, if I may so say, dived into
Lethe, from which he hardly ever lifts his head. The first
injudicious step which he adopted was the sale of his magniti

348 DtJBLlN TABItfET BALL.

cent mansion in Men-ion Square. It surpasses any private
residence in London, and rather resembles the palace of a
Venetian senator than the house of a British subject. That
vast structure, upon which enormous sums had been expended
by his father, was a perpetual intimation of the importance of
the Duke, as long as it was called Leinster House ; but after
he had sold it to the Dublin Society, and its original designa-
tion was laid aside, a memorial of the family was wanting,
which the Duke's political conduct was not calculated to sup-
ply. He was not contented with this disposal of his family
mansion, but took a small house in Dominick street, which he
dignified with the appellation of the Duke of Leinster's Office.
Many ascribed the sale of his palace (for such it might be
called) to a penurious tendency ; but, although the Duke is a
prudent man, he is not, I believe, addicted to that most ignoble
of all vices, and avarice forms no part of his character. The
truth is, that the Duke of Leinster is wholly insensible to
fame ; and such is his aversion to publicity, that I could never
bring myself to give any credit to the statement in Harriet
Wilson's Memoirs, that his Grace was in the habit of standing
behind her carriage.* He has such a horror of the general
eye, that I hold it to be impossible that he could ever have
achieved a piece of such open and undisguised gallantry as
the modern Aspasia has been pleased to ascribe to him.

After having sold his house, the Duke retired to the woods
and solitudes of Carton.f There he buried himself from the

* "The Memoirs of Harriet Wilson," which were published about 1824.
professed to be written by a noted London courtesan, one of whose sisters had
married Lord Berwick, a wealthy peer in Shropshire. This book, which was
written on " black-mail" principle, was crowded with details of Miss Wilson's
amours, and brought in the names of most of her very extensive acquaintance
with the fashionable and aristocratical men of her time. She made a consid-
erable oum by the sale of the work, and yet more by what she received for the
8'V,»pression of scandals, whether true or false. With this money, Harriet
Wilson retired to Paris, where a French Colonel married her. Twenty years
aftei, she returned to England, affected to have become an imminent Christian,
and died in 1846. — M.

t Carton, in the County of Kildare, is the family mansion and estate of the
Duke of Leinster. It was purchased, in January, 1738-'9, by Robeit, nine
teenth Earl of Kildare, from Thomas Ingoldsby, in Buckinghamshire, Eng-
land.—M.

A NOBLE WOODMAN. 849

inspection, and gradually dropped out of the notice, of the
country. Having a turn for mechanics, he provided himself
with a large assortment of carpenters' tools, and beguiled the
tedium of existence with occupations by which his arms were
put into requisition. There is not a better sawyer in the
county of Kildare. As you wander through the forests on his
demesne, you occasionally meet a vigorous young woodman,
with his shirt tucked up to his shoulders, while he lays the axe
to the trunk of some lofty tree that totters beneath his stroke.
On approaching, you perceive a handsome face, flushed with
exercise and health, and covered with perspiration. Should
you enter into conversation with him, he will throw off a few
jovial words between every descent of the axe; and, if he
should pause in his task for breath, will hail you in the tone
of good-humored fellowship. He sets to his work again ;
while you pursue your path through the woodlands, and hear
from the ranger of the forest that you have just seen no less
a person than his Grace himself.

In the midst of these innocent employments, the Duke of
Leinster passes away a life which ought to be devoted to
higher purposes. It is Avith the utmost difficulty that he is
occasionally dragged out of his retreat, and consents, some
once a-year, to fill the chair at a public meeting. But he
takes no part in the deliberations or the measures of popular
assemblies, for which he entertains an unaffected distaste, and
hurries back to his domestic occupations again. The result
has been, that he not only holds no place in the public estima-
tion beyond that which his private virtues confer upon him,
but he is without any influence at the Castle. Shortly after
Lord Wellesley came to Ireland, the Duke called to pay his
respects to his Excellency, who sent him an intimation that he
was at the moment too busily engaged to see him, but that, in
case he called again, he should be happy to receive his Grace.

At the Tabinet Ball (from which I have made a wide
digression, into somewhat too serious, if not extraneous mat-
ter), it was easy to observe that the Duke of Leinster, sur-
rounded as he was by all the provincial rank and wealth of
Publin, was not an object of much public conpern. 4§ Jjtf

£>50 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

mingled among the various circles in the saloon, some person,
who chanced to know him, just mentioned, "There is the Duko
of Leinster ;" while his Grace, neither attracting nor caring
for any further notice, passed on without heed to some other
part of the room. How different an impression would he have
produced, had he taken the more active and intrepid part,
to which his fortunes appeared to invite him ! The mock
regality of a lord-lieutenant would fade at once before him.
The representative of a nation would stand superior to the
delegate of the king. But, in drawing this contrast, it would
be an injustice not to add, that, after all, the Duke of Leinster
has a right to make a selection of happiness for himself. He
has no ambition. Nature has not mixed that mounting quality
in his blood which teaches men to aspire to greatness, and
makes them impatient of subordination. If he is deficient in
energy, and is without the temperament necessary for high
enterprise, he is adorned by many gentle and perhaps redeem-
ing virtues. His life is blameless in every domestic relation ;
and if he is not admired, he is prized, at least by all those
who are acquainted with him. He looks, and I am convinced
he is, an exceedingly happy man ; and has at all events one
of the chief means of felicity, in the amiable and accomplished
woman to whom he is united.

The Duchess of Leinster accompanied her husband to the
Tabinet Ball. This excellent lady is one of the daughters of
Lord Harrington.* She has been some years married to the
Duke, and has the reputation of being a most affectionate
mother and wife. Although an Englishwoman, she prefers
Ireland to her own country, and has never seduced her hus-
band into absenteeism. Lady Morgan should make a heroine

* The Duchess of Leinster, was aunt of the 4th Earl of Harrington, formed*
known in fashionable life as Lord Petersham, who married Maria Foote, the
lovely actress, in 1831, and died in 1851. His brother, known as Colonel Lei-
cester Stanhope, Byron's intimate and companion in Greece is the prese7it EarJ
and married the beautiful Miss Green, niece to Mr. Hall, now Chief Police
magistrate, at Bow street, London. This lady, some twenty years ago-, when
in the bloom of youth, was considered one of the most beautiful women iu xiio
woi'ld of London — JVJ,

THE DUCHESS OF LEINSTEE. 351

of her.* Few persons are more esteemed and loved than she
is. There is a charm in her kind and good-hearted manners,
which engages the partiality of those about her, and converts
that respect which is due to her station into regard. I have
never seen any lady of her distinction in society so wholly
free from assumption. There is the enchantment of sincerity
in her sweet demeanor, which, in the manners of the great, is
above every other charm. She is not beautiful ; but there is
about her —

" Something than beauty dearer,

That for a face not beautiful does more
Than beauty for the fairest face can do."

A look of benignity, united with a pleasant and vivacious
smile, makes you forget a certain want -of regularity in her
features. I do not quite like her deportment and gait. There
seems to be a weakness in her limbs, which prevents a steadi-
ness and measure of movement, necessary for a perfect grace-
fulness of head. But it is only after a minute observation,
made in the spirit which is " nothing if not critical," that any
such imperfections are discerned, and they are speedily forgot-
ten in the feeling of kindness which her noble gentleness can
not fail to produce.

It was amusing to observe the contrast between the unosten-
tatious affability of her Grace, and the factitious loftiness of
the other titled patronesses of the ball. Lady Wellesley had
nominated a certain number of vice-presidents of the dance,
who were directed to appear with a head-dress of ostrich-
feathers, by way of distinguishing them from the ladies to
whom that high function had not been confided. Accordingly,
about a dozen heads, stuck with a profusion of waving plu-
mage, lifting their nodding honors above the crowd. These

* Lady Morgan, whose maiden name was Sydney Owenson, was daughter
of an actor, who anglicized his patronimic Mac-Owen, and was a good r>ei>
foi-mer of Irish characters. Her novel, " The Wild Irish Girl," brought het
into notice, and her works, principally travels and fiction, have obtained hoi
much reputation. She wrote the well-known song of " Kate Kearney." She
married Sir Charles Morgan, a medical man in Dublin. The British Govern-
ment has given her a pension of three hundred pounds sterling a year. She
lives ,'n London, but her failing sight and the weight of nearly eighty yea/ $f
foV'P co.npeljed her to relinquish her literary pursuits.— Mf

352 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

reminded me of the Mexican princesses in prints of Monte-
zuma's court, which I have seen in the History of New Spain.
The absence of any superfluity of attire did not make the
resemblance less striking. It was pleasant to observe the
authoritative simper with which they discharged their high-
plumed office, and intimated the important part which they
were appointed to play in this fantastic scene. Upon the vul-
gar in the crowd, such as the wives of rich burghers, of opulent
attorneys, and of stuff-gown lawyers, they looked with ineffable
disdain; and even to the fat consorts of the aldermen, they
scarcely extended a smile of supercilious recognition.

Busily engaged among the latter, I observed Mr. Henry
Grattan, who was then a candidate, and is now a representa-
tive of the city of Dublin. This gentleman was not a little
strenuous at the Tabinet Ball, in his attentions to the ladies,
both young and elderly, of the Corporation. He had, upon a
former occasion, been defeated by Master Ellis, through the
influence of the civic authorities, and was determined to con-
ciliate the leading members of the powerful body by which he
had been successfully opposed. He is a singular example of
perseverance, and, I rejoice to add, of success, in the steadfast
pursuit of an honorable object. His name, the veneration in
which his 'father's memory is so justly held by every true lover
of his country, and the earnest which he has himself already
given of eminent abilities and of public virtue, gather much of
the popular solicitude about him, and render his career in par-
liament a matter of interesting speculation. Some mention of
this young senator, whose foot is yet upon the threshold of the
House, may not be inappropriate. "How widely," the reader
may say, " do you deviate from the Tabinet Ball !" Be it so.
I set down my thoughts as they Bow carelessly from my pen.

A word or two, then, of Mr. Henry Grattan.* He is the

* Mr. Henry Grattan continued to sit in Parliament for a long series of years
and was uniformly constant in his attendance, and liberal in his principles.
He usually voted with O'Connell. He is not a member of the present Parlia-
ment. Although pains-taking and industrious, as a business-man, his public
courae has not been very distinguished. He has published a very reliable and
interesting work, — his father's " Life and Times," which is indispensable t-
fhe pmdent pf Irish history. — M»

THE YOUNG EK GKATTAN. 353

second son of the great Irishman, of whom it may be so justly-
said : —

" Magnum et venerabile nomen,
Gentibus, et nostrse multum quod prodeat urbi."

His father took, from the earliest period, the most anxious care
of his mind, upon which he set a high value. I have been
assured by a gentleman, whose authority I could not for a
moment question, that the late Mr. Grattan, in presenting his
son to his tutor at Trinity College, expressed his conviction of
his superior qualifications, and said that he hoped to leave
"his Henry" as a noble bequest to his country. The great
patriot saw in the mind of his son what Doctor Johnson calls
" the latent possibilities of excellence ;" and he was anxious,
as well from a national as from a parental feeling, to bring
them forth. Mr. Henry Grattan, while in college, enjoyed the
double advantage of an excellent system of public education,
and of having a domestic pattern of the admirable in eloquence
and in patriotism perpetually before his eyes. His career in
the University was highly honorable ; and in the Historical
Society, which, if it were not a school of genuine oratory, was
at all events a useful nursery of declamation, obtained univer-
sal plaudits. Having'taken his degrees with credit, he entered
the Temple, and went through the usual masticating process,
by which the British youth are initiated into the mysteries of
the law. He became, while in London, a member of the
society called "The Academic," which holds debates upon all
the entities, and distinguished himself by a force and strenu-
ousness of elocution to which that debating assocation was little
accustomed. Upon his return to Dublin, after having gone
through his two years' novitiate, and eaten his way to the Bar,
he dedicated himself to political rather than to forensic pur-
suits. His illustrious father had been unkindly, and, in my
judgment, ungratefully treated by the- Irish Catholics. Mr.
Henry Grattan resented these injuries with more asperity than
it was, perhaps, judicious to have expressed, and involved
himself in some personal altercations, which are now happily
forgotten. Having a turn for composition, but not being suf-
ficiently versed in the arts of vituperative insinuation, he pub-

354 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

lislied one or two articles in the "Evening Post," of too undis-
guised a kind, against tlie Duke of Richmond, which produced
a prosecution.* He had a narrow escape from the fangs of
Mr. Saurin, and was, I believe, obliged to remunerate the pro-
prietor of the newspaper at no little cost. The great aggrava-
tion of his satire was its truth. His celebrated father was, it
is understood, a good deal annoyed by the results of these fiist
essays in invective, which obliged him to pay to the King a
portion of what he had received from the people.

Until his death, his son did not come directly forward upon
the political stage; but when that great man had been depos-
ited in Westminster Abbey (neither Grattan nor Curran jis
buried in Irish earth),1 his son offered himself as a candidate
for the representation of the city of Dublin. It ought to have
descended to him as an inheritance. He appeared on the
hustings with the incomparable services of his illustrious father
as his advocate. He combined with the legitimate claims
derived from so illustrious a name great personal merit. Yet
so high ran the prejudices of party, that Master Ellis, whose
only title arose from his hostility to the Catholics, was pre-
ferred to him, and the services of the best and most lofty-
minded Irishman that ever lived were shamefully forgotten.
Painful as such a defeat unquestionably was, he did not relin-
quish the object on which his heart was set; and having

* The Dublin Evening Post, one of the most respectable journals of Ireland,
was long an advocate of the Catholic party. After the passing of the Emanci-
pation Bill, in 1829, it became the organ of the Government. For the last
thirty years it was edited by a liberal and able Protestant, Frederick William
Conway ; who died in 1853. — M.

t The ashes of Curran now repose in the land which he loved so well, and
in which his genius and patriotism are reverenced as they deserve. He died
on the 14th of October, 1817, and was buried in Padclington Church, London.
In 1834, it was determined to remove his remains to Ireland, arid a Committee,
sitting in Dublin, managed the details. The coffin was received on its arrival
by Curran's son and another, was deposited temporarily in the mausoleum at
Lyons, the seat of Curran's friend, Lord Cloncurry, and was thence taken to
Glasnevin Cemetery, where it lies beneath a magnificent monument of granite,
on the model of the tomb of Scipio, on which is carved the one word CURRAN
which is sufficient for such a man. — Grattan was buried in Westminister Abbey,
where rests all that was mortal of many illustrious men. — M.

"THE TENTH." 355

Ascertained that a number of Roman Catholics had omitted to
register their freeholds, by his own personal exertions, and by
individual application, he created such a counteraction to the
suffrages of the freemen, that, at the last election, he was
returned for the city. He did not, at the same time, omit any
effort to disarm the corporators of their prejudices, and by
every species of legitimate assiduity endeavored to charm their
antipathies away. He accordingly paid t« the Orange poten-
tates of the Corporation a diligent and obsequious attention.

I observed him actively engaged in this part of his vocation
at the Tabinet Ball. No man laughed more loudly at certain

reminiscences from " Joe Miller," which Alderman was

pouring, as original anecdotes, into his ear. The new and
graceful pleasantry of the worthy corporator appeared to throw
Mr. Grattan into convulsions of merriment, though now and
then, in the intervals of laughter, I could perceive an expres-
sion of weariness coming over his face, and that effort over the
oscitating organs, with which an incipient yawn is smothered
and kept in.

My attention was suddenly diverted from this political
tete-atete, by an ejaculation of ennui, which was uttered by a
young English, officer,* who was lounging, with two of his

* In 1823-'24, a cavalry regiment called the Tenth Hussars, formed part of the
garrison of Dublin. Its officers were chiefly, if not wholly members of aristocrat-
ic families in England, and looked down with unconcealed contempt upon every
grade of society in the Irish Metropolis. They condescended, sometimes, merely
pour passer le temps — to partake of dinners and appear at balls given by the
"natives" in Dublin. Here they usually conducted themselves on the "Nil
admirari" principle, and showed what magnificent ideas of their own impor-
tance were entertained — by themselves. On one occasion, the lady of the
house at which there was a rout, good-naturedly asked one of these officers
whether she should introduce him to a charming partner for a quadrille ? The
reply, delivered with a pause between each word, was, " Thank you, but, the
Tenth don't daunce !" Another time, an Irish peeress told one of these carpet-
knights that a lovely young woman near him was heiress to an immense for-
tune, and asked if he would not like to make her acquaintance, and try to win
the prize ? " I'm not a marrying man, myself," was the reply, " but, I shall
mention her at mess !" — The excellent comedy (by Croly, the poet and divine),
culled, " Pride shall have a Fall," in which a party of puppy-officers are intro-
duced and ridiculed, owed some of its success to its presumed intention of
satirizing " The Tenth."— M.

356 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

military compatriots, through the room. This triumvirate of
coxcombs trailed themselves, with an affected listlessness,
along, and vented their depreciation of Ireland in elaborately
English intonations. They were apparently anxious to give
intimation of their superior country ; for they put more of
their national accent into their voices than well-bred English-
men are accustomed to do, arid seemed vain of the anti-Irish
drawl, in which the spirit of mingled tedium and of derision
was expressed.

One of them was a handsome and well-formed fellow, the
manliness of whose person made a singular contrast with the
artificial effeminacy with which his countenance was invested.
He lisped in a deep guttural voice, and played with his whiskers
as if they were the bow-strings of Cupid. I was not a little
amused by the languid complacency with which this athletic
Narcissus seemed to contemplate himself. His companion on
the right, was the exact reverse of the captain in manner and
in aspect; for, with a feeble and fragile form, and the cheek
of a woman, he put on an air of warlike defiance, and looked
as Madame Vestris would in the part of Pistol. The other
was a huge booby in gold and scarlet, with great meanless
eyes falling out of their sockets, and with features thrown in a
chaos together.

His business appeared to be to grin at the captain's wit, and
turn up a pair of dilated nostrils, through which he snorted his
disdain of Ireland. These gentlemen were joined by an old
officer, who was evidently a man of rank, before whom they
immediately assumed an aspect of deference : like themselves
he was an Englishman, but of a very different sort. He had
the marks of long service on his face, which was of a strongly
martial cast. There was no exhibition of haughty fierceness
in his air; but his fine intelligent eye had that calm intensity
of observation which denotes the " coup-d'ceil militaire" His
features were aquiline, his color was tinged by the Spanish
sun, and his physiognomy united great natural sweetness of
expression with the familiar habits of command. He said that
he had been greatly delighted with all that he had seen, and
had no notion that Dublin could produce such a display o^

MISS O'CONNELL. 357

elegance, opulence, and beauty. He rallied liis young friends
upon the loss of their hearts, and the likelihood of their carry-
ing back Irish wives to England. Against the possibilities of
such a misadventure in matrimony they vehemently protested,
and enlarged upon the huge feet and monstrosities of ankle
exhibited by the Irish fair.

A ponderous lady, the wife of an honest burgher, was
bouncing at the moment through the mazes of the third set,
and seemed to be in that interesting condition which a lady
of fashion, in "The Vicar of Wakefield," describes as being
" all over in a muck of sweat." To make the matter worse,
she took it into her head that the officers had selected her as
an object of admiration ; and throwing a look of greasy ama-
tiveness into her face, renewed her efforts at the graceful with
a desperate agility. I felt some mortification at the oppor-
tunity for ridicule, which was afforded to the young English-
men by this piece of animated corpulency; but I was relieved
,by the elder officer, who pointed to a young lady in an adjoin-
ing circle of dancers, whom it was only necessary to look at
for an instant, in order to feel the influence which perfect
beauty will create in the rudest mind. With all their disposi-
tion to find fault, the party of military critics at once admitted
that the taste of the old colonel could not be impeached, and
that such a face and figure would almost justify the violation
of the regimental rule, " not to marry in Ireland."

The impression produced by the girl whom the venerable
veteran had selected, diverted my attention from the com-
mentaries of the English officers. Though not tall, her figure
had the perfection of youthful symmetry. Her limbs were of
the finest mould, and with- the round plumpness of health,
united an aerial lightness and grace. The beautiful epithet
which Prospero applies to the sweet minister of his spells,
seemed to belong to this fascinating person, who looked as
" delicate" as Ariel. Her dress was simple : it consisted
merely of a pink tabinet, without decoration. A wreath of
flowers bound the black hair, the ringlets of which just shaded
the marble of her forehead, but fell in "ambrosial plenty"
behind. Her features, although somewhat minute, had the

353 mTBLttf TABINET BALL.

Siddonian character. Thought and sensibility were mingled
like tlie white and red roses in her cheek. Her eyes were of
the finest black; but, although they were both sweet and bril-
liant, there was an expression about them which I was at first
at some loss to define. I afterward perceived that it arose
merely from a shortness of sight. I could have remained, as
Oroonoko says, gazing " whole nights" upon her, when happily,
perhaps, for as much heart as yet abides within me, her chape-
ron warned her, at the conclusion of the dance, that it was
time to retire. The morning, indeed, had just begun to show
a face scarcely more beautiful, and, as if jealous of such a rival

as Miss O'C , admonished her to depart.* She drew her

shawl round her bosom, with a grace which Canova should
have turned to marble, and disappeared amidst the crowd who
were pouring out of the room. I remained for some moments
in that state of revery, which, in my younger days, I mistook
for romance, with the image of the lady before me. I was
roused from my dream, however, by the recollection that I was,
past thirty, -and that it was five o'clock. The company were
gone. I stood alone, where hundreds had recently met in a
joyous and brilliant concourse ; and I felt how justly, as well
as beautifully, Moore has compared the recollections of our
youth to the sensations of one

" Who treads alone

Some banquet-hall deserted,

Whose lights are fled,

Whose garlands dead,

And all but he departed; —

Thus in the stilly night, ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad memory brings the light of other days around me."

* I have reason to believe that the lady, whose portrait is thus beautifully
painted in words, was a daughter of Mr. O'Connell. At that time, she wag iu
the pride of youth and loveliness. All of O'Connell's children were well-look-
ing; his daughters were remarkable for their personal attractions — M

CATHOLIC LEADERS AND ASSOCIATIONS

I NOW propose to give some account of the various bodies
which have successively managed the concerns of the Catho-
lics, and of the individuals who have taken the most active
part in their affairs.*

Catholic Associations have been of very long existence. The
Confederates of 1642 were the precursors of the Association of
1828. The Catholics entered into a league for the assertion
of their civil rights. They opened their proceedings in the
city of Kilkenny, where the house is shown in which their as-
semblies were held. They established two different bodies to
represent the Catholic people — namely, a general assembly,
and a supreme council. The first included all the lords, pre-
lates, and gentry, of the Catholic body ; and the latter con-
sisted of a few select members, chosen by the general assembly
out of the different provinces, who acted as a kind of executive,
and were recognised as their supreme magistrates. These
were "the Confederates." Carte, in his "Life of Ormonde,"
calls them " an Association." He adds that the first result of
their union was an address to the King [Charles I.], in which
they demanded justice, and besought him "timely to assign a
place where they might with safety express their grievances."
On receiving this address, the King issued a commission under
the great seal, empowering the commissioners to treat with the

* This sketch, full of historical and personal interest, appeared in October,
1828, and was marked " To be continued'' — an unfulfilled promise, probably
caused by Mr. Shell's " invasion of Kent" (immediately after it was written),
us related in the next volume. — M.

360 CATHOLIC LEADERS.

Confederates, to receive in writing what they had to say ot
propound, and to transmit it to his Majesty.

This commission was dated the llth of January, 1642. Or-
monde says, in one of his letters, that " the Lords Justices
used every endeavor to prevent the success of the commission,
and to impede the pacification of the country." The supreme
council of "the Confederates" was sitting at Ross, and a de-
spatch was transmitted by the Lords Justices to them, in which
the phrase " odious rebellion" was applied to their proceedings.
At this insult they took fire — they had arms in their hands,
and returned an answer, in which they stated that " it would
be a meanness beyond expression in them who fought in the
condition of loyal subjects, to come in the repute of rebels to
set down their grievances. We take God to witness," added
they, " that there are no limits set to the scorn and infamy that
are cast upon us, and we will be in the esteem of loyal sub-
jects, or die to a man !" A terrible civil war ensued. On the
28th of July, 1646, Lord Digby published A proclamation of
peace with the Confederates. The Pope's Nuncio, Renuccini,
induced the former to reject the terms. The war raged on.
At length, in 1648, Ormonde concluded a treaty with them;
but, soon after, Cromwell landed in Ireland, and crushed the
Catholics to the earth.

Thus an early precedent of a Catholic Association is to be
found at the distance of upward of a hundred and eighty-six
years. I pass over the events of the Revolution. The penal
code was enacted. From the Revolution to the reign of George
II., the Catholics were so depressed and abject, that they did
not dare to petition, and their very silence was frequently the
subject of imputation, as affording evidence of a discontented
and dissatisfied spirit. Upon the accession of George II., in
1727, Lord Delvin, and the principal of the Roman Catholic
gentry, presented a servile address, to be laid by the Lords
Justices before the throne. They were in a condition so ut-
terly despicable and degraded, that not* even an answer was
returned. But Primate Boulter, who was a shrewd and saga-
cious master of all the arts of colonial tyranny, in a letter to
Lord Carteret, intimates his apprehension at this first act since

THE CATHOLIC COMMITTEE. 361

the Revolution, of the Catholics as a community ; and imme-
diately after they were deprived of the elective franchise by
the 1st George II., ch. 9, sec. 7. The next year came a bill
which was devised by Primate Boulter, to prevent Roman
Catholics from acting as solicitors.

Here we find, perhaps, the origin of the Catholic rent. Sev-
eral Catholics in Cork and Dublin raised a subscription to de-
fray the expense of opposing the bill, and an ap^patate-priest ~X*
gave information of this conspiracy (for so it was called) to
bring in the Pope and the Pretender. The transaction was
referred to a committee of the House of Commons, who actu-
ally reported that five pounds had been collected, and resolved
that " it appeared to them that, under pretence of opposing
heads of bills, sums of money had been collected, and a fund
established by the Popish inhabitants of this kingdom, highly
detrimental to the Protestant interest."

These were the first efforts of the Roman Catholics to obtain
relief, or rather to prevent the imposition of additional burdens.
They did not, however, act through the medium of a commit-
tee or association. It was in the year 1757, upon the appoint-
ment of the Duke of Bedford to the viceroyalty of Ireland,
that a Committee was for the first time formed, of which the
great model, perhaps, was to be discovered in " the Confeder-
ates" of 1642 ; and ever since that period the affairs of the
body have been more or less conducted through the medium
of assemblies of a similar character. The Committee of 1757
may be justly accounted the parent of the great Convention
which has since brought its enormous seven millions into ac-
tion. The members of the Committee formed in that year were
delegated and actually chosen by the people. They were a
Parliament invested with all the authority of representation.
Their first assembly was held in a tavern called " The Globe,"
in Essex street, Dublin. After some sittings, Mr. Wyse, of
Waterford, the ancestor of the .gentleman who has lately made
so conspicuous a figure in Catholic politics, proposed a plan of
more extended delegation, which was at once adopted. Li
1759, this body was brought into recognition by the state ; for,
upon the alarm of the invasion of Conflans, the Roman Catho-

VOL. I. — 16

362 CATHOLIC LEADERS.

lie Committee prepared a loyal address, which was presented
to John Ponsonby, the then Speaker, by Messrs. Crump and
M'Dermot, two delegates, to be transmitted by him to the
Lord-Lieutenant. A gracious answer to this address was re-
turned, and published in the " Gazette." The Speaker sum
moned the two delegates to the House of Commons, and the
address was then read. Mr. M'Dermot, in the name of his
body, thanked the Speaker for his condescension.

This was the first instance in which the political existence
of the Irish Catholics was acknowledged, through the medium
of their Committee. This recognition, however, was not fol-
lowed by any immediate relaxation of the penal code. Twelve
years elapsed before any legislative measure was introduced
which indicated a more favorable disposition toward the Cath-
olic community, if, indeed, the llth and 12th of George III.
can be considered as having conferred any boon upon that de-
graded people. The statute was entitled, " An act for the
reclaiming of unprofitable bogs ;" and it enabled Papists to
take fifty acres of unprofitable bog for sixty-one years, with
half an acre of arable land adjoining, provided that it should
not be within one mile of a town. The provisions of this act
of Parliament indicate to what a low condition the great mass
of the population had been reduced, and illustrate the justice
of Swift's remark, that the Papists had become mere hewers
of wood and drawers of water. However, the first step was
taken in the progress of concession ; and every day the might
of numbers, even destitute of all territorial possession, pressed
more and more upon the Government.

The Catholic Committee pursued its course, and in 1777 ex-
torted the first important relaxation; for they acquired the
right of taking leases for nine hundred and ninety -nine years,
and their landed property was made descendible and devisa-
ble, in the same manner as Protestant estates. In 1782, the
difficulties of the Government augmented, and the Catholic
Committee pressed the consideration of their claims upon the
Ministry. By the 21st and 22d of George III., Papists were
enabled to purchase and dispose of landed property, and were
placed, in that respect, upon 'an equality with Protestants.

THE CATHOLIC COMMITTEE.

Thus they were rashly left beyond the state, hut were furnished
with that point from which the engine of their power has been
since wielded against it.

From 1782 until 1793, no further concessions were made ; but
the Catholics increased in power, until, in 1792, their Com
mittee assumed a formidable aspect. Theobald Wolfe Ton?,,
in his Memoirs, gives the following account of what may be
called the Association of that period : " The General Commit-
tee of the Catholics, which, since the year 1792, has made a
distinguished figure in the politics of Ireland, was a body com-
posed of their bishops, their country gentlemen, and of a cer-
tain number of merchants and traders, all resident in Dublin,
but named by the Catholics in the different towns corporate to
represent them. The original object of this institution was to
obtain the repeal of a partial and oppressive tax called Quar-
terage, which was levied on the Catholics only ; and the
Government, which found the Committee at first a convenient
instrument on some occasions, connived at their existence. So
degraded was the Catholic mind at the period of the forma-
tion of their Committee, and long after, that they were happy
to be allowed to go up to the Castle with an abominable slavish
address to each successive Viceroy ; of which, moreover, until
the accession of the Duke of Portland in 1782, so little notice
was taken, that his Grace was the first who condescended to
give them an answer [N. B. this is a mistake] ; and, indeed,
for above twenty years, the sole business of the general Com-
mittee was to prepare and deliver in those records of their
depression. The effort which an honest indignation had called
forth at the time of the Volunteer Convention of 1783, seemed
to have exhausted their strength, and they sunk back into
their primitive nullity. Under this appearance of apathy, how-
ever a new spirit was gradually arising in the body, owing
principally to the exertions and the example of one man, John
Keogh, to whose services his country, and more especially the
Catholics, are singularly indebted. In fact, the downfall of
feadal tyranny was acted in little on the theatre of the General
Committee. The influence of their clergy and of their barons
gradually undermined; and the third estate, the com-

364 CATHOLIC LEADKttS.

mercial interest, rising in wealth and power, was preparing, by
degrees, to throw off the yoke, in the imposing, or at least
continuing of which, the leaders of the body, I mean the pre-
lates and the aristocracy, to their disgrace be it spoken, were
ready to concur. Already had those leaders, acting in obedi-
ence to the orders of the Government, which held them in
fetters, suffered one or two signal defeats in the Committee,
owing principally to the talents and address of John Keogh :
the parties began to be denned, and a sturdy democracy of
new men, with bolder views and stronger talents, soon super-
seded the timid counsels and slavish measures of the ancient
aristocracy."

Until John Keogh appeared among them, and asserted that
superiority in public assemblies which genius and enterprise
will always obtain over the sluggish pride of inert and apathe-
tic rank, the proceedings of the Committee had been, as Tone
here intimates, under the control of the Catholic aristocracy.
They were the sons of men who had lived in the period of
utter Catholic degradation ; and many of them remembered
the time when the privileges of a gentleman were denied to a
Catholic nobleman, and a Popish peer was not allowed to wear
a sword ! They had contrived to retain their properties by
expedients which were calculated to debase their political
spirit; and it is rfot very wonderful that even when the period
had arrived when they might hold themselves erect, they did
not immediately divest themselves of that stoop, which the
long habit of bearing burthens had of necessity given.

Accordingly, they opposed the measures of a bold and ad-
venturous character, which the plebeian members of the Com-
mittee had suggested ; arid at last adopted the preposterous
expedient of seceding from the body. Wolfe Tone, who was
secretary to the Committee, and whose evidence is of great
value, gives the following account of this incident: — "The
Catholics," he says, " were rapidly advancing in political spirit
and information. Every month, every day, as the Revolution
in France went prosperously forward, added to their courage
and their force, and the hour seemed at last arrived when, after
a dreary oppression of above one hundred years, they were

THE CATHOLIC ARISTOCRACY. 365

once more to appear in the political theatre of their country.
They saw the brilliant prospect of success, which events in
France open to their view, and they determined to avail them-
selves with promptitude of that opportunity which never
returns to those who omit it. For this; the active members of
the General Committee resolved to set on foot an immediate
application to Parliament, praying for a repeal of the penal
laws.

"The first difficulty they had to surmount arose in their own
body ; their peers, their gentry, as they affected to call them-
selves, and their prelates, either reduced or intimidated by
Government, gave the measure all possible opposition; and, at
length, after a long contest, in which both parties strained
every nerve, and produced the whole of their strength, the
question was decided on a division in the Committee, by a
majority of at least six to one, in favor of the intended appli-
cation. The triumph of the young democracy was complete ;
but, though the aristocracy was defeated, they were not yet
entirely broken down. By the instigation of Government,
they had the meanness to secede from the General Committee,
to disown their acts, and even to publish in the papers, that
they did not wish to embarrass the Government, by advancing
their claims of emancipation.

"It "w difficult to conceive such a degree of political degrada-
tion. But what will not the tyranny of an execrable system
produce in time? Sixty-eight gentlemen, individually of high
spirit, were found, who publicly, and in a body, deserted their
party, and their own just claims, and even sanctioned this
pitiful desertion by the authority of their signatures. Such an
effect had the operation of the penal laws on the Catholics of
Ireland, as proud a race as any in all Europe !"

The secession of the aristocracy did not materially enfeeble
the people. New exertions were made by the democracy. A
plan of more general and faithful representation was devised
by Mr. M'Keon, which converted the Committee into a com-
plete Catholic parliament. Members were elected for every
county in Ireland, and regularly came to Dublin to attend the
meetings of this extraordinary convention. At the head of

366 CATHOLIC LEADERS.

this assembly was the individual of whom Wolfe Tone makes
such honorable mention, John Keogh.

He was, in the years 1792 and 1793, the unrivalled leader
of the Catholic body. He belonged to the middle class of life,
and kept a silk-mercer's shop in Parliament street, where he
had accumulated considerable wealth. His education had
corresponded with his original rank, and he was without the
graces and refinements of literature; but he had a vigorous
and energetic rnind, a great command of pure diction, a striking
and simple earnestness of manner, great powers of elucidation,
singular dexterity, and an ardent, intrepid, and untameable
energy of character. His figure was rather upon a small scale;
but he had great force of countenance, an eye of peculiar bril-
liancy, and an expression in which vehement feelings and the
deliberative faculties were combined. He was without a com-
petitor in the arts of debate ; occasionally more eloquent
speeches were delivered in the Catholic convention, but John
Keogh was sure to carry the measure which he had proposed,
however encountered with apparently superior powers of decla-
mation.

Wolfe Tone has greatly praised him in several passages of
his work ; but there are occasional remarks in the diary which
was kept by that singular person, when secretary to the Catho-
lic Committee, in which statements unfavorable to John Kftogh
are expressed. This diary was never intended for publication,
and is written in a very easy and familiar style. He calls
John Keogh by the name of " Gog," and represents him as
exceedingly subtle, dexterous, and cunning, and anxious to
such an extent to do everything himself, as to oppose good
measures when they were suggested by others. He miglit
have had this fault, but as Wolfe Tone wrote down the
ephemeral impressions which were made upon him by occa-
sional incidents in his journal, it is* more reasonable to look at
the general result of the observations on this able man, which
are to be found in his autobiography, than to the remarks
which were committed every day to his tablets. As secretary
to the Catholics, he was himself liable to be sometimes thwarted
by Mr. Keogh ; and it is likely that, under the influence of

JOHN KEOGH. 367

some small annoyances, lie has set down in his journal some
strictures upon his friend.

Afterward, however, when Wolfe Tone was in France, he
reverts, in the diary subsequently kept by him, to John Keogh,
and, when far away, voluntarily writes a high encomium upon
the leader of the Irish Catholics. It is to be collected from
his work, that John Keogh had a deep hostility to England,
and that he was disposed to favor the enterprise of Wolfe
Tone. However, he did not, in Ireland, escape the usual
charges of corruption. In the year 1793, he negotiated with
the Minister the terms upon which the partial emancipation,
which was then granted to the Catholics, was to be conceded.

Whenever a leader of the people is brought into contact
with authority, he will incur injurious surmises, should thq
result not correspond with popular expectation. It was said,
that had John Keogh insisted upon complete emancipation,
everything would, in that moment of emergency, have been
obtained. It was insinuated, and for a long time believed,
that he received a large sum of money as a remuneration for
his complaisance; but there is no sort of proof that he sold his
country, and his opulence should, by generous men, who are
slow to believe in the degradation of human nature, be rather
referred to his honorable industry in his trade, than to any
barter of the liberties of Ireland. It is difficult to determine
whether, if the Catholics had been peremptory in their requi-
sition for equality, they could have forced the Minister to
yield. I am inclined to think that they would have encoun-
tered obstacles in the mind of the late King,* which could not

The Legislative Union of Ireland was the favorite measure of William Pitt.
To the Irish Catholics, he held out hopes, nearly as strong as promises, that tho
abolition of their political disabilities would follow. Geoi'ge III., who was cog-
nizant, all through, of this understanding with the Catholics, was decidedly
averse to concession, when the measure was named to him, whereupon Pitt
quitted office in disgust. Three years after, he returned to power, and died in
January, J806. *A11 The Talents," comprising Lord Grenville's Ministry, in
1807, vainly essayed to change the King's Anti-Catholic views (he thought thai
concession to the Catholics would be a breach of his coronation oath to defend
the Protestant Church) and very soon after they were cavalierly dismissed, ana
the Perceval Ministrv formed. — M.

368 CATHOLIC LEADERS.

have been overcome ; and it must be acknowledged, that for
what was obtained (and thai was much), his country is princi-
pally indebted to Mr. Keogh, and to the Committee of which
he was the head.

In 1793 the elective franchise was obtained. The seed was
then cast, of which we have seen the fruits in the elections of
Waterford, and Lonth, and Clare. Great joy prevailed through
the Catholic body, who felt that they had now gained, for the
first time, a footing in the state, and were armed with the
power, if not of bursting open, of at least knocking loudly
at the gates of the constitution. For some time the question
lay at rest. The rebellion then broke out — the Union suc-
ceecTed — and the Catholic cause was forgotten. It was not
even debated in the British House of Commons until the year
1805, when the measure was lost by an immense majority.

John Keogh, being advanced in life, had retired, in a great
degree, from public proceedings, and confined himself to his
residence at Mount Jerom, in the vicinity of Dublin. He had
been previously defeated in a public assembly by a young bar-
rister, who had begun to make a figure at the bar, to which he
was called in the year 1798, and who, the moment he took a
part in politics, made a commanding impression. This barris-
ter was Daniel O'Connell, who, in overthrowing the previous
leader of the body upon a question connected with the pro-
priety of persevering to petition the legislature, gave proof of
the extraordinary abilities which have been since so success-
fully developed. Mr. Keogh was mortified, but his infirmities,
without reference to any pain which he might have suffered,
were a sufficient inducement to retire from the stage where he
had long performed the principal character with such just
applause. Mr. O'Connell was, however, too deeply engaged
in his professional pursuits to dedicate as much of his atten-
tion and of his time as he has since bestowed to political con-
cerns; and, indeed, the writer of this article remembers the
time when his power of public speaking, and*of influencing
popular assemblies, was by no means so great as it has since
become. The fortune with which he came to the bar (for his
father and uncle were then alive) was not considerable, and i*

O'UONNELL'S ANTI-UNION EFFORTS. 369

was of more importance to him to accumulate legal knowledge
and pecuniary resources than to obtain a very shining political
name.* So much has heen already written with respect to
this eminent individual, and the public are so well acquainted
with the character of his mind and talents, that it is not
necessary to expatiate upon them.

Another person appeared after the secession of John Keogh,
of very great abilities, with whose name the English public
have been less familiar. Mr. Denis Scully, the eldest son of a
gentleman of large property in the County of Tipperary, and
who had been called to the bar, obtained, by his admirable
writings, an influence almost equal to that of Mr. O'Connell in
the Catholic Committee, which was revived in all its vigor,
and became the object of Mr. Saurin's prosecutions in 1811.
Mr. Scully had, upon his entrance into public life, written some
pamphlets in support of Government, and it was believed that
his marriage to a lady who was related to Lady Hardwicke
had given a determination to his opinions. When Lord Hard-

* O'Connell did not join the United Irishmen in ?798, when he was aged
twenty-three. He disapproved of their " argument of force," relying rather on I "ItyV?
the " force of argument." It is said that he even became member of a yeo- )
manry corps. Two principles he started with, and retained to the end: — that
he who committed an outrage supplied the enemy with a weapon to be used
against the country, and that Ireland could not be prosperous until the Legisla-
tive Union with England was repealed. The " Young Ireland" schism, which
so much annoyed him at the close of his career, was caused by his continued
resistance to the doctrine of " physical force" held by Meagher, Mitchel, and
others of the young and gallant patriots. As for the Union, O'Connell' J first
public effort was against it. His maiden speech, on January 13, 1800, was at
a Catholic meeting in Ireland, and in unequivocal condemnation of that meas-
ure. The resolutions of this meeting, drawn up by O'Connell, declared the
Union, then proposed, to be " in fact, an extinction, of the liberty of Ireland,
•which would be reduced to the abject condition of a province, surrendered to
the mercy of the Minister and Legislature of another country, to be bound by
their absolute will, and taxed attheir pleasure by laws, in the making of which
Ireland would have no efficient representation whatever.*1 All through the
struggle for Catholic Emancipation, and to the last, O'Cunnell was constant in
declaring that " the Repeal" must be tho t-rtd of till. In other words, from
1800 to 1847, O'Connell declared that there must be a Repeal of the Union, to
make Ireland

" Grout, glorious, and free —
First flower of the eur.h and first gem of the sea." — M,

JO*

370 CATHOLIC LEADEK8.

.vicke was in Ireland, Mr. Scully was a good deal sought for
at the Castle.*

His first writings, however, were merely juvenile effusions;
and he afterward felt that the only means of obtaining justice
for Ireland was by awakening a deep sense of their injuries
among the great mass of the people. Accordingly the char-
acter of his compositions was materially changed ; and from
iris study in Merrion-square there issued a succession of pow-
erful and inflammatory writings. A newspaper, of which Mr.
ZEneas Mac Donnel was named the editor, was established by
Mr. O'Connell and Mr. Scully; and both those gentlemen, but
especially the latter, contributed their money and their talents
to its support. The wrongs of the country were presented in
the most striking view; and while the Government looked
with alarm on these eloquent and virulent expositions of the
condition of the people, the people were excited to a point of
discontent, to which they had never before been raised.

MX. Scully gained great influence over the public mind by
these services. His work upon the penal code, which is an
admirable digest of the laws and of their results, set a crown
upon his reputation. No book RO able, so convincing, and
uniting so much philosophy with so much eloquence, had yet
appeared. It brought the whole extent of Catholic suffering
at once under view, and condensed and concentrated the evils
of the country This work created an unprecedented impres-
sion, and gave to its author an ascendency in the councils of
the Catholic Committee. He was greatly inferior to Mr.
O'Connell as a speaker, but was considered fully as able in
preliminary deliberation. The measures of the body were
generally believed to be of his suggestion, and it was said that
he had gained a paramount influence over Mr. O'Connell him
self. "The witchery resolutions," as they are generally des
ignated — for they related to the influence of an enchantress
of fifty over the Kingt — were supposed to be his composi-

* The third Earl of Hardwicke, born in 1757, was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland
from 1801 to 1806, and died in 1834.— M.

t It was fondly anticipated bv the Catholics that, whenever the Prince of
Wales should have anv actual power., he would do what he could to

THE FATAL WITCHERY. 371

tioii, and it was alleged that he omitted no efforts, in conjunc-
tion with the late Lord Donoughmore,* to cause them to be

Emancipation. In 1810, when George III. was again afflicted with insanity
(from which he never recovered), his eldest son was made Prince Regent, to
govern in his father's name, but, after the first twelve months, with all but the
name of King. He retained the illiberal mir.ist'y, headed by Mr. Perceval, and
at the year's end, declared that he would XvitaJn that. Minister, though he should
be glad if some of his early friends would ju:.n the government. Lord Grey
and Grenville, whom he named, declined. l-n;nediately after, when the Assas-
sination of Perceval rendered a new miniof/y necessary, Grey and Grenville were
again applied to, but insisted on being allowed, at starting, to change the en-
tire household of the Regent. Sheridan, who supported the Regent and was
much in his confidence then, had previously written in their name, as an " Ad-
dress to the Prince," the following imitation of Rochester's lines to Charles II. :
" In all humility we crave,

Our Regent may become our slave ;

And, being so, we trust that he

Will thank us for our loyalty.

Then, if he'll help us to pull down

His father's dignity and crown,

We'll make him, in some time to come,

The greatest prince in Chn'stendom."

Lord Liverpool, a strong anti-Catholic, was made Premier. The Irish lead-
ers then passed several resolutions, one of which denounced " the fatal witch-
ery" which had led the Regent to form a ministry hostile to Irish liberty of con-
science. This alluded to the then Marchioness of Hertford, a stout, middle-
aged woman (the Regent's first wife was " fat, fair, and forty"), and was a
strong Tory. It was believed that she was the Regent's mistress, while his
most constant male friends were her husband and son — the latter being then
nearly forty years of age ! These " witchery" resolutions so much annoyed
the Regent that, seventeen years elapsed before, under strong pressure, he
could be brought to consent to Catholic Emancipation. — M.

* Richard Hely Hutchinson, born 1756, was son of that Mr. Hutchinson
(provost of Trinity College, Dublin, in 1761, and Irish Secretary of State in
1777), whose thirst of acquisition was so great that the British Minister de-
scribed him as one who, if he obtained Ireland as an estate, would ask for the
adjacent Isle of Man, as a kitchen garden. The son was created Baron,
Viscount, and Earl, and was made a British Viscount in 1821. Dying in 1825,
he was succeeded by his brother, who had succeeded Abercrombie in military
command in Egypt, and had been created Lord Hutchinson, in 1801, with a
pension of two thousand pounds sterling. On his death, in 1832, his nephev
became Earl of Donoughmore, but had won a loftier fame, in 1815, by assisting
in the escape of Lavalette from the prison in Paris, where certain death awaited
him from the vengeance of the Bourbons. During the present century, all ^.ho
Hu' 'hiuson family have been friends of civil and religious liberty. — ^L

372 CATHOLIC LEADERS.

carried. The resolutions passed at the " Black Abbey" at
Kilkenny were also framed by Mr. Scully, who narrowly
escaped incarceration for his elucubrations.

Mr. John Magee, the proprietor of the Evening Post, and
Mr. Fitzpatrick, were impiisoned for his sins; but I have
always understood that Mr. Scully made them a compensation
for their sufferings on his aitconnt. He became an object of
great detestation with the PIT instant party, and of correspond-
irg partiality with his own. But, in. the height of his political
influence, the death of M-? father, and a domestic lawsuit,
which engrossed all his mind, induced him to retire in a great
measure from public life; and afterward the decay of health
prevented him from taking any part in the proceedings of his
body.

The Catholics have sustained a great loss in him. His
large property, his indefatigable industry, his profound sense
of the injustice which his country had suffered, and the elo-
quent simplicity with which he gave it expression, rendered
him adequate to the part which had devolved upon him. His
chief fault lay in the intemperate character of the measures
which he recommended. His manner and aspect were in sin-
gular contrast and opposition to his political tendencies. In
utterance he was remarkably slow and deliberate^ and wanted
energy and fire. His cadences were singularly monotonous,
every sentence ending with a sort of see-saw of the voice,
which was by no means natural or agreeable. His gesture
was plain and unaffected, and it was easier to discover his
emotions by the trembling of his fingers than by his counte-
nance ; for his hand would, under the influence of strong feel-
ing or passion, shake and quiver like an aspen-leaf, while his
countenance looked like marble. It was impossible to detect
his sensations in his features. A deep smile played over his
mouth, whether he was indulging in mirthful, in pleasurable,
or sarcastic observation. He had some resemblance to Bona-
parte in figure, when the latter grew round and corpulent, but
was more unwieldy. I have often thought, too, that in his
massive and meditative features I could trace an imperial
likeness,

LORDS FRENCH A^TD

It was about sixteen or seventeen years ago that, tins gen-
tleman made so distinguished a figure in the Catholic Com-
mittee. There were many others who at that time took an
active share in Catholic politics, and who are since either
dead, or have retreated from publicity. The late Lord French
was among the most remarkable. He was a very tall, brawny,
pallid, and ghastly-looking man, with a peculiarly revolution-
ary aspect, and realised the ideal notions which one forms of
the men who are most likely to become formidable and con-
spicuous in the midst of a political convulsion. He had a
long and oval visage, of which the eyebrows were thick and
shaggy, and whose aquiline nose stood out in peculiar prom-
inence, while a fierce smile sat upon cheeks as white as parch-
ment, and his eyes glared with the spirit that sat within them.
His manners were characterized by a sort of drawling urbanity,
which is observable among the ancient Catholic gentry of
Connaught; and he was studiously and sometimes painfully
polite. He was not a scholar, and must have received an
imperfect education. But his mind was originally a powerful
one, and his deep voice, which rolled out in a peculiarly mel-
ancholy modification of the Irish brogue, had a dismal and
appalling sound. He spoke with fluency a diction which be-
longed exclusively to him. It was pregnant with vigorous but
strange expression, which was illustrated by gesture as bold,
but as wild. He was an ostentatious duellist, and had fre-
quent recourse to gladiatorial intimations. Pride was his
leading trait of character, and he fell a victim to it. He had
connected himself with a bank in Dublin, and having become
bankrupt, rather than brook the examination of the commis-
sioners at the Exchange, he put himself, in a paroxysm of
insanity, to death. I thought him, with all his defects, a lover
of his country.

It would be difficult to imagine two persons more stiongly
opposite in character and in manner than Lord French and
the Premier Catholic nobleman the Earl of Fingal. He has
since left to his able and intelligent son the office which he so
long and so usefully filled, as head of the Catholic body ; but.
about the period of which I am speaking, he was the chief, in

374 CATHOLIC

point of rank, of the Irish Catholics, and presided at their
meetings. Lord Fingal is one of the most amiable and kind
men whom it has been my good fortune to have been ever ac-
quainted with. Without the least shadow of arrogance, ana
although incapable of hurting the feelings of any man, he still
preserves his patrician dignity unimpaired, and commands the
respect as well as the impartiality of every one who approaches
him. Although not equal to his son in intellectual power, he
has excellsnt sense and admirable discretion. He has made
few or no mistakes in public life, and very often, by his cool-
ness and discretion, has prevented the adoption of rash and
injudicious measures. His manners are disarming ; and I have
understood, upon good authority, that when in London, where
he used almost annually to go, as head of the Catholic bodjr,
he has mitigated, by the charm of his converse, the hostility
of some of his most rancorous political opponents. As a speaker,
he is without much ability ; but there is a gentleness and a
grace about him which supply the place of eloquence, and ren-
der his audience so favorable to him, that he has often suc-
ceeded in persuading, where others of greater faculty miglifc
have employed the resources of oratory in vain.

An individual, who is now dead, about this time made a
great sensation, not only in the Catholic Association, but
through the empire. . This was the once-famous Doctor Drum-
goole, whom Lord Kenyon seems determined not to allow to
remain in peace. He was the grand anti-vetoist, and was, I
believe, a most sincere and unaffected sentinel of religion. He
kept watch over the Catholic hierarchy, and took the whole
body of the clergy under his vigilant protection. It was, how-
ever, a speech which he delivered at the Shakspere Gallery,
in Exchequer street [Dublin], at a Catholic meeting, that tended
chiefly to give him notoriety. He assailed the tenets of the
established religion with a good deal of that sort of candor
which Protestants at that period regarded as the height of pre-
Bumption, but which is now surpassed every day by the ha-
rangues of the orators of the Catholic Association. The Doc-
tor's speech may be considered as a kind of epoch in Catholic
politics ; for ho was the first who ventured to employ against

DOCTOR BRUMGOOLE. 375

the opponents of Emancipation the weapons which are habitu-
ally used against the professors of the Roman Catholic religion.
Men who swear that the creed of the great majority of Chris-
tians is idolatrous and superstitious, should not be very sensi-
tive when their controversial virulence is turned upon them.

The moment Doctor Drumgoole's philippic on the Reforma-
tion appeared, a great outcry took place, and Roman Catholics
were not wanting to modify and explain away the Doctor's
scholastic vituperation. He himself, however, was fixed and
s'ubborn as the rock on which he believed that his doctrines
were built. No kind of apology could be extorted from him.
He was, indeed, a man of a peculiarly stubborn and inflexible
cast of mind. It must, however, be admitted that, for every
position which he advanced, he was able to adduce very strong
and cogent reasoning. He was a physician by profession, but
in practice and in predilection he was a theologian of the most
uncompromising sort. He had a small fortune, which rendered
him independent of patients, and he addicted himself, strenu-
ously and exclusively, to the study of the scholastic arts. He
was beyond doubt a very well-informed and a clever man. He
had a great command of speech, and yet was not a pleasing
speaker. He was slow, monotonous, and invariable. His
countenance was full of medical and theological solemnity,
and he was wont to carry a huge stick with a golden head, on
which he used to press both his hands in speaking; and in-
deed, from the manner in which he swayed his body, and
knocked his stick at the end of every period to the ground,
which he accompanied with a strange and guttural "hem!"
he seemed to me a kind of rhetorical pavior, who was busily
engaged in making the great road of Liberty, and paving the
way to Emancipation.

The Doctor was in private life a very good and gentle-na-
tured man. You could not stir the placidity of his temper un-
less you touched upon the Veto ; and upon that point he was
scarcely master of himself. I remember well, years after all
discussion upon the subject had subsided, when I was in Paris,
on a visit at the house of a friend of the Doctor's and my own,
he suddenly walked in, just after his arrival from Rome. I

CATHOLIC LEADERS.

had not seen him for a considerable time, but I had scarcely
asked him how he was, when he reverted to the Veto. A de-
bate (it was in the year 1819) was immediately opened on the
subject. Some Irish gentlemen dropped casually in ; they all
took their share in the argument. The eloquence of the dif-
ferent disputants became inflamed : the windows toward the
street had been left unhappily open ; a crowd of Frenchmen
collected outside, and the other inhabitants of the house gath-
ered at the doors to hear the discussion. It was only after th^
Doctor, who was still under the influence of Vetophobia, ha.l
taken his leave, that I perceived the absurdity of the incident.
A volume of " Gil Bias" was on the table where we happened
to have been assembled, and by accident I lighted on the pas-
sage in which he describes the Irish disputants at Salamanca :
" Je rcncontrois guclque fois dcs figures Hibernoiscs. 11 faJloif-
nous voir dispute?" &c. We are a strange people, and deserve
our designation at the foreign universities, where it was prover-
bially said of the Irish that they were " ratione furentes"

There were others besides the persons whom I have de-
scribed, who at this juncture took a part in the Catholic poli-
tics, and who are deserving of mention ; but as they have
recently made a figure even more conspicuous than at the
Catholic Committee, I reserve them for subsequent delineation.
The only other person whom I remember as worthy of much
note, and who has retired from Catholic assemblies, was Peter
Bodkin Hussey. Peter was a very droll, sarcastic, and amu-
sing debater. He dealt almost exclusively in irony, and em-
ployed a good deal of grotesque imagery in his action, which,
if it did not instruct, served at least the purposes of entertain-
ment. He had a very rubicund and caustic countenance, that
was surmounted with a profusion of red h.air ; and, from his
manner and aspect, he was not unhappily designated as " Red
Precipitate." I don't know from what motive he has retired
from political life ; but, though he is still young, he has not
recently appeared at any Roman Catholic assembly.

These were the individuals who, besides the performers who
still continue on the boards, chiefly figured at the Catholic
Committee, which, in the year 1811, was made the object of a

BROKEN HOPES. 37?

prosecution by Mr. Saurin. Mr. Kirwan and Doctor Sheridan
were indicted upon the Irish Convention Act, for having been
elected to sit in the Catholic Parliament. The Government
strained every nerve to procure a conviction. Mr. Saurin com-
menced his speech in the following words : " My Lords and
gentlemen of the jury, I can not but congratulate you and the
public that the day of justice has at length arrived ;" and the
then Solicitor-General, the present Chief-Justice Bushe, in
speaking of the Committee, constituted as it was, concluded his
oration thus : " Compare such a constitution with the estab
lished authorities of the land, all controlled, confined to their
respective spheres, balancing and gravitating to each other —
all symmetry, all order, all harmony. Behold, on the other
hand, this prodigy in the political hemisphere, with eccentric
course and portentous glare, bound by no attraction, disdain-
ing any orbit, disturbing the system, and affrighting the world."
Upon the first trial, the Catholic Committee were acquitted ;
but upon the second, the Attorney-General [Saurin] mended
his hand, and the jury having been packed, the comet was
put out.

The Catholic Committee, as a representative body elected
by the people, and consisting of a certain number of members
delegated from each town and county, ceased to exist. A
great blow had been struck at the cause, and a considerable
time elapsed before Ireland recovered from it. The Russian
war ensued, and Bonaparte fell. The hopes of the Catholics
fell with the peace. A long interval elapsed, in which nothing
very important or deserving of record took place. A political
lethargy spread itself over the great body of the people, and
the assemblies of the Catholics became more unfrequent, and
their language more despondent and hopeless than it had ever
before been. The unfortunate differences which had taken
place between the aristocracy and the great body of the people
respecting the Veto, had left many traces of discord behind,
and divided them from each other; they no longer exhibited
Any very formidable object to their antagonists.

Thus matters stood till the year 1821, when the King inti-
mated his intention to visit Ireland. The nation awoke at

CATHOLIC

this intelligence ; and it was believed by the Catholics, and
surmised by the Protestants, that their sovereign could scarcely
mean to visit this portion of his- dominions from any idle
curiosity, or from an anxiety to play the principal part in a
melodramatic procession through the Irish metropolis. It was
reasonably concluded that he must have intended to come as
the herald of national tranquillity, and as the great pacificator
of his people. Before his arrival, the two parties formed a
temporary amnesty ; and Mr. O'Connell, who had gained the
first eminence in his profession, and had become the undisputed
leader of the Catholic body, used his best endeavors to effect
a reconciliation between the Orangemen of thex Corporation
and the Irish Catholics.

Sir Benjamin Bloomfield* arrived in Dublin before his mas-
ter, and intimated the Royal anxieties that all differences and
animosities should be laid aside. Accordingly, it was agreed
that a public dinner should be held at Morrison's tavern,
where the leaders of both factions should pledge each other in
libations of everlasting amity. This national festivity took
place ; and from the vehement protestations on both sides, it
was believed by many that a lasting reconciliation had been
effected. Master Ellis and Mr. O'Connell almost embraced
each other. The King arrived ; the Catholics determined not
to intrude their grievances upon him. Accordingly our gra-
cious Sovereign passed rather an agreeable time in Dublin.
He was hailed with tumultuous hurrast wherever he passed ;

* Sir Benjamin Bloomfield, bora in 1762, was an Irish artillery officer when
he attracted the notice of the Prince of Wales, who made him a member of his
household in 1808, knighted him in 1815, and in 1817, on the resignation of
Sir John MacMuhon, appointed him Receiver-General of the Duchy of Cornwall,
private Secretary, and Keeper of the privy purse. All these were lucrative
offices, and Bloomfield " feathered his nest" very well. In 1824, his Royal
Master, then George IV. quarrelled with him about a lady (the late fat and fair
Marchioness of Conyngham), and Sir Benjamin was sent, in a sort of honorable
exile, as Ambassador to Sweden. In May, 1825, he was created Lord Bloom-
field, and he died in August, 1846. The secret history of- this court favorite's
rise and fall is full of interest, but too long to be related here. — M.

t No doubt, a great doul may be done, in the way of concession, to obtain
" peace and quietness." This is said to be the principle on which so much

OfelGltt OF .THE CATHOLIC ASSOCIATION. 370

and in return for the enthusiastic reception which he had found,
he directed Lord Sidmouth to write a letter, recommending it
to the people to be united. His Majesty shortly afterward
set sail, with tears in his eyes, from Kingstown. For a little
while the Catholics continued under the miserable deception
under which they had labored during the Royal sojourn, but
when they found that no intention existed to introduce a
change of system into Ireland — that the King's visit seemed
an artifice, and Lord Sidmouth's epistle meant nothing — and
that while men were changed, measures continued substantially
unaltered, they began to perceive that some course more effect-
ual than a loyal solicitude not to disturb the repose of Majesty,
should be adopted.

The present Catholic Association rose out of the disappoint-
ment of the people. Its foundations were laid by Mr. O'Con-
nell, in conjunction with Mr. Sheil. They both happened to
meet at the house of a common friend in the mountains of
Wicklow, and after exchanging their opinions on the deplor-
able state to which the Catholic mind had been reduced; and
the utter want of system and organization in the body, it was
agreed by those gentlemen that they should both sign an
address to the Irish Catholics, and enclose it to the principal
members of the body. This proceeding was considered pre-
sumptuous by many of the individuals to whom their manifesto
was directed ; and under other circumstances, perhaps, it might
be regarded as an instance of extreme self-reliance ; but it
was absolutely necessary that some endeavor should be made
tn rouse the national mind from the torpor into which it had
fdlen.

A very thin meeting, which did not consist of more than

power is permitted to the fair sex. — O'Connell yielded a great doul when
George the Fourth came to Ireland, in 1821, whereof Byron wrote,

" The Messiah of royalty comes,
Like a goodly Leviathan rolled from the waves."

O'Connell presented an immense shamrock to George IV., and even drank
"The pious, glorious, and immortal memory of William III.," with Dublin
Corporation — the offensive part of the toast was no doubt omitted. But as soon
as the King left the island, the old political feuds revived — the stronger for
the interregnum. — M.

380 CATHOLIC LEADERS.

about twenty individuals, was held at a tavern set up by a
man of the name of Dempsey, in Sackville street ; and it was
there determined that something should be done. The founda-
tions of the Association were then laid, and it rnust be owned
that its first meetings afforded few indications of the import-
ance and the magnitude to which it was destined to be raised.
The attendance was so thin, and the public appeared so insen-
sible to the proceedings which took place in those small con-
vocations, that it is almost surprising that the enterprise was
not relinquished in despair. The Association in its origin was
treated with contempt, not only by its open adversaries, but
Catholics themselves spoke of it with derision, and spurned at
the walls of mud, which their brethren had rapidly thrown up,
and which were afterward to become alta mania Rmn<z. At
length, however, the men who had formerly been active in
Catholic affairs were got together, and the great body of the
people were awakened from their insensibility. The powerful
appeals of Daniel O'Connell, who now began to develop eVen
greater abilities than he had before exhibited, and whose
ambition was excited by the progress which he had made in
his profession, stirred the mind of Ireland.

The aristocracy, who had been previously alienated, had
forgotten many affronts which had been put upon them, and
began to reunite themselves with the people. Lord Killeen,
the son of the Earl of Fingal, came forward as the representa-
tive of his father and of the Catholic nobility. He was free
from the habits of submission which the Catholic aristocracy
had contracted at the period of their extreme depression, and
was animated by an ardent consciousness of the rights which
were withheld from him. This young nobleman threw him-
self into a zealous co-operation with Mr. O'Connell, and by his
abilities aided the impression which his rank and station were
calculated to produce. His example was followed by other
noblemen ; and Lord Gormanstown, a Catholic peer of great-
fortune, and of very ancient descent, although hitherto unused
to public life, appeared at the Catholic Association. This
good man had labored for many years under the impression
that the Catholics were frustrating their own objects by the

DOCTOR DOYLE. 381

violence with which they were pursued, and had, in conse-
quence, absented himself from their assemblies ; but at length
the delusion passed away. His example was followed by the
Earl of Kenmare, who, though he did not actually attend the
Association (for he abhors popular exhibition), sent in the
authority of his name, and his pecuniary contribution.

Thus the aristocracy was consolidated with the Catholic
democracy, and Mr. O'Connell began to wield them both with
the power of which new manifestations were every day given.
In a little time a general movement was produced through the
country ; the national attention was fixed upon the delibera-
tions of the body which had thus started up from the ruins of
the old Catholic Committee ; its meetings became crowded to
excess. The newspapers teemed with vehement harangues;
and the public mind, heated and excited by these impassioned
and constantly-repeated appeals,* began to exhibit an entirely
different character.

The junction of the aristocracy and of the democracy was
a most important achievement. But this confederacy was
greatly strengthened by the alliance of another and still more
powerful body, the Catholic priesthood of Ireland. The sym-
pathy which the clergy have manifested in the efforts of the
Association, and the political part which they have lately
played, are to be referred, in a great measure, to the influence
of a very greatly gifted man. Doctor Doyle, the Catholic
Bishop of Kildare and Leighlin, is certainly among the most
remarkable men who have appeared in this strange state of
things, and has most essentially contributed to the moral and

* O'Connell's voice was deep, sonorous, and manageable. Its transitions
from the higher to the lower notes were wondrously effective. He rather af-
fected a full Irish pronunciation, on which was slightly grafted something of
the accent which, in his youth, he had involuntarily picked up in France. No
man had a clearer pronunciation — at times, it even went to the extent of almost
syllabicizing long words. He could speak for a longer time than most men,
without pausing to take breath. When making a speech, his mouth was very
expressive. In his eyes (of a cold, clear blue), there was little speculation,
but the true Irish expression of feeling, passion, and intellect, played about hi.«
lipa. Looking at him, as he spoke, an observer might note the sentiment about,
to issue from those lips, before the words had utterance — just as we see tjip
lightning-flash before we hear the thunder-peal, — IVJ,

382 CATHOLIC LEADERS.

political feeling which has grown up among the people.* He
was educated at a university in Portugal, where it was not
very likely that he would contract any very ardent attachment
to freedom, but his original love of his country overcame the
theology of Coimbra, and he returned to Ireland with a mind
deeply imbued with learning, fraught with eloquence, and
burning with patriotism.

He was for some time a professor in the Ecclesiastical
College at Carlow, and, before he was made a bishop, was
unknown as a politician. But the crosier had been scarcely

* The Reverend James Doyle, D. D., was an Irishman, who, being intended
for the Catholic priesthood, received his education at Coimbra, in Portugal,
whence he removed on being appointed Professor of Theology to the College
of Carlow. In 1819, and before he was forty years old, he was made Catholic
Bishop of Kildare and Leighlin — being the youngest man ever raised to the
prelacy in Ireland. His erudition was great and his controversial skill soou
became eminent. In 1823, Dr. Magoo, Protestant Archbishop of Dublin, pub-
lished a charge to his clergy, in which he warned them of the assaults on Prot-
estantism from Catholics and Dissenters — or, as he chose to express it, from
" a church without religion, and a religion without a church." This antithesis
provoked Dr. Doyle, who replied to Dr. Magee in a cutting and learned work,
showing that the Protestant Church was itself a usurpation, that its Bishops
were usurpers, and that the Apostolical Succession could not properly be traced
by or for them through the Catholic Church. Dr. Doyle signed this " J. K. L."
the initials of his prelatic signature, " James Kildare and Leighlin," and
his future publications, which were numerous, bore the same distinguishing
letters. — He was much in favor of Poor Laws for Ireland, and succeeded in con-
verting Mr. O'Connell to his opinion. When that gentleman returned to his
original opposition to Poor Laws, Dr. Doyle publicly declared that a man so
unstable in opinion was unsuited for a great popular leader. It was in noticing
this that O'Connell declared that " Consistency was a rascally doctrine." Dr.
Doyle was a firm believer in the miracles said to have been wrought by or
through the instrumentality of Prince Hohenloe. — Dr. Doyle's evidence, before
a Committee of the House of Lords, in 1825, on the state of Ireland, attracted
great attention then, and for years after, and tended much to extend his repu-
tation as a close observer and philosophical reasoner. He died, June 15, 1834
at Braganza House, near Carlow, a mansion which had been purchased as a
residence for the Catholic Bishops of the diocese. He had furnished this at
his own expense, and bequeathed the contents of this house, including his
library, to his successor. He had succeeded in building, in Carlow, one of the
finest Cathedrals in Ireland, obtaining the necessaiy funds by much self-priva-
tions, arid by unwearied solicitations of the wealthy, and his mortal remains Avere
interred >vithin the walls of this beautiful and hallowed, fane, — |&

DOCTORS OF SOKBONNB. 383

placed in his hands when he raised it in the cause of his coun-
try, He wrote, and his writings were so strikingly eloquent
in diction and powerful in reasoning, that they at once invited
the attention of the public. He fearlessly broached doctrines
which not only startled the Government, but gave alarm to
some of the hoary professors at Mayuooth. In the following
passage in his letter to Mr. Robertson, after speaking of the
likelihood of a rebellion and a French invasion, he says :
" The Minister of England can not look to the exertions of
the Catholic priesthood : they have been ill-treated, and they
may yield for a moment to the influence of nature, though it
be opposed to grace. This clergy, with a few exceptions, are
from the ranks of the people ; they inherit their feelings ; they
are not, as formerly, brought up under despotic governments ;
and they have imbibed the doctrines of Locke and Paley,
more deeply than those of Bellarmin, or even of Bossuet, on
the divine right of kings. They know much more of the prin-
ciples of the constitution than they do of passive obedience.
If a rebellion were raging from Carrickfergus to Cape Clear,
no sentence of excommunication would ever be fulminated by
a Catholic prelate."

This announcement of what is now obviously the truth cre-
ated a sort of consternation. Lord Wellesley, it is said, in
order to neutralize the effects of this fierce episcopal warning,
appealed to Maynooth ; and from Maynooth there issued a
document in which it is well understood that the students and
even the President, Dr. Crotty, did not agree, but to which
names of five of the theological professors were attached.
The persons who were mainly instrumental in getting up 8
declaration in favor of passive obedience (which is, however,
more mitigated than the famous proclamation of servility
which issued from the University of Oxford) were two old
French doctors of Sorbonne, who had found bread in the
Irish College, Monsieur de la Hogue and Monsieur Fransois
d'Anglade. These individuals belonged, when in their own
country, to the " ancien regime ;" and, with a good deal of
learning, imported into Ireland a very strong relish for submis
sion The following was their protest against Dr. Doyle ;— r-

384 CATHOLIC LEADEI13.

"Royal Catholic College of St. Patrick, MaynootJi. — In con-
sequence of recent public allusions to the domestic education
of the Catholic Clergy, we the undersigned, Professors of the
Koman Catholic College of Maynooth, deem it a duty whrch
we owe to Religion and to the country, solemnly and publicly
to state, that, in our respective situations, we have uniformly
inculcated allegiance to our gracious Sovereign, respect for the
constituted authorities, and obedience to the Laws.

"In discharging this solemn duty, we have been guided by
the unchangeable principles of the Catholic Religion, plainly
and forcibly contained in the following precepts of St. Peter
and St. Paul :

" ' Be ye subject, therefore, to every human creature for
God's sake ; whether it be to the King, as excelling, or to
governors sent by him, for the. punishment of evil-doers, and
for the praise of the good : for so is the will of God, that by
doing well you may put to silence the ignorance of foolish
men, as free and not as making liberty a cloak for malice, but
as the servants of God. Honor all men. Love the brother-
hood. Fear God. Honor the King For this is thanks-
worthy, if for conscience toward God a man endures sorrows,
suffering wrongfully. For what glory is it, if committing sin,
and being suffering for it, you endure ? But if doing well you
suffer patiently, this is thanks-worthy before God/ 1st Ep.
of St. Peter, c. ii.

" ' Let every soul be subject to higher powers : for there is
no power but from God ; and those that are, are ordained of
God. Therefore, he that resisteth the power, resisteth the
ordinance of God. And they that resist, purchase to them-
selves damnation. For Princes are not a terror to the good
work, but to the evil. Vvrilt thou, then, not be afraid of the
Power] Do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise for

the same. Wherefore be subject of necessity, not only for

wrath, but also for conscience sake.' Ep. to the Rom. c. xiii.

" Our commentaries on these texts can not be better con-
veyed than in the language of Tertullian : ' Christians are
aware who has conferred their power on the Emperors : they
it is God, after whom thev are first in rank, and second to

"j. K, &." 385

no other. From the sa ne Source which imparts life they also
derive their power. We Christians invoke on all the Emperors
the blessings of long life, a prosperous reign, domestic security,
a brave army, a devoted senate, and a moral people.' —
Apology, chap. 30.

" Into the sincerity of these professions we challenge the
most rigid inquiry; and we appeal with confidence to the
peaceable and loyal conduct of the Clergy educated in this
Establishment, and to their exertions to preserve the public
order, as evidence of the soundness of the principles inculcated
in this College. These principles are the same which have
been ever taught by the Catholic Church ; and if any change
has been wrought in the minds of the Clergy of Ireland, it is,
that religious obligation is here strengthened by motives of
gratitude, and confirmed by sworn allegiance, from which DO
power on earth can absolve."

Such was the Sorbonne manifesto, which, notwithstanding
the awful names of La Hogue and d'Anglade, was laughed at
by the Irish priesthood. The reputation of Doctor Doyle was
more widely extended by this effort of antiquated divinity to
suppress him ; and the Government found additional proofs in
the result of his publication of the unfortunate truths which ii
contained.

J. K. L., the name by which Dr. Doyle is generally known,
and which is composed of the initials of his titular designation,
threw into the Catholic Association all the influence of his
sacred authority; and, having openly joined that body, in-
creased the reverence with which the people had previously
considered its proceedings, and imparted to it something of a
religious character. The example which was given by Doctor
Doyle was followed by other dignitaries of the Church, of
whom the most remarkable are Doctor Murray, the Archbishop
of Dublin, and Doctor Kelly, the Bishop of Waterford.

Doctor Murray is the successor of "the late Doctor Troy.*

* The Right Reverend Thomas Troy, D. D., Roman Catholic Arc.ibJshop of
Dublin, was horn July 7, 1739, and died May 11, 1823. It is curioua nnd histor-
ically instructive, to compare this prelate's poverty with the wealth of some of
the Protestant hierarchy. The personal property left by each of the last toree

T. — 17

386 CATHOLIC LEADERS.

Thai excellent ecclesiastic had for many years presided over
the see of Dublin, rather with the prudence and caution which
had been acquired in times of political oppression, than with
the energy and determination which became the augmenting
power of the Catholic body. He had acquired his habits at
an epoch, if not of servility, of oppression, and had been ac-
customed to accomplish, by dexterous acquiescence, what would
now be insisted upon as a right. During the Irish rebellion
he is said to have shown great skill ; and, by his influence at
the Castle, prevented the Roman Catholic chapels from being
closed up. H^ was accounted ft good divine, but had neither
the faculty of composition nor of speech. He had received
his education at Rome, and was a member of the order of St.
Dominic. He had the look, too, of a holy bon-vivant, for he
was squat and corpulent, had a considerable abdominal pleni-
tude, and a ruddy countenance, with a strong determination
of blood to the nose. Yet his aspect belied him, for he was
conspicuous for the simplicity and abstemiousness of his life ;
and although Lord Norbury, observing Mr. ^Eneas M'Dormel
descending the steps of his house, exclaimed, " There is pious
.ZEneas coining from the sack of Troy," and by the celebrity
of the pun extended to the Doctor a renown for hospitality,
the latter had scarcely the means of supporting himself in a
manner consistent with his clerical station. He died in ex-
ceeding poverty, for one guinea only was found in his posses-
sion. This arose partly from the narrowness of his income,
and partly from his generous disposition. He had about eight
hundred pounds a-year, and expended it on the poor.

This good man was succeeded by the present Archbishop of
Dublin, Doctor Murray.* He was educated in the University

Archbishops of Armagh was over two hundred thousand pounds sterling. The
income of the Bishopric of Deny which is now only four thousand five hun-
dred pounds sterling a year! was formerly twenty thousand — more, in fact,
than that of the Archbishopric of Tuam. Therefore when the Earl of Bristol,
Bishop of Deny, had the offer of the arch-diocese of Tuarn, his significant replf
was " I prefer meum to tuitm." As a general rule, the Protestant bishops leave
much wealth behind them, and the Catholic prelates accumulate nothing. — M.
* The late Archbishop Murray was respected by nil classes and .creeds for
bis liberality of opinion and his practical common sense. He was well appre-

A.ECHBISHOPS CURTIS AND MCJKRAY. 387

of Salamanca, but his mind is untarnished by the smoke of the
scholastic lamp, and he has a spirit of liberty within him whbh
ehows how compatible the ardent citizen is with the enthusias-
tic priest. His manners are not at all Spanish, although he
passed many years in Spain under the tuition of Doctor Curtis,
the Catholic Primate, who was professor of theology in Sala-
manca, \ and is one of its peculiar " Bachelors." Doctor Curtis
is almost more Spanish than the Spanish themselves, for he
has a restlessness of gesture, and a flexibility of the physiog-
nomical muscles, which surpass the vivacity of Andalusia, and
with one finger laid upon his nose, with his eyes starting from
his head, and with the other hand quivering like that of a
Chinese juggler, he presents the most singular spectacle of
episcopal vividness, at the age of ninety-one, which I have
ever seen.

His pupil and brother-Archbishop of Dublin is meek, com-
posed, and placid, and has an expression of patience, of sweet-
ness, and benignity, united with strong intellectual intimations,
Avhich would fix the attention of any ordinary observer who
chanced to see him in the public way. He has great dignity
and simplicity of deportment, and has a bearing befitting his
rank without the least touch of arrogance. His voice is singu-
larly soft and harmonious ; and even in reproof itself he does

dated by successive Viceroys, since 1829 — even the nu>st intolerant of them
respecting a man who wielded immense power, but avoided all misdirection of
it. Like his predecessor, Dr. Troy, he died poor. — M.

* Dr. Curtis, Catholic primate of Ireland, had held a high official position
in Salamanca, when the Duke of Wellington was battling with the French, in
the Peninsulfi, and had rendered such essential services to his Grace, that,
after the war was over, they continued to correspond, as friends. In Decem-
ber, 1828, when O'Connell's election for Clare had brought on a crisis, he wrote
to the Duke, pressing Catholic Emancipation on him, as a necessity. The
Duke's reply was dubious — he did not see how the desiderated measure could
then be granted, and he recommended that the question " be buried in oblivion"
for a time, so that men might calmly consider it ! Dr. Curtis sent this letter
to the Marquis of Anglesua, who took it as involving a sort of promise to do
"justice to Ireland" an 1 wrote a reply, accordingly, urging that the question
be agitated, and not buried in oblivion. For "his expression of his opinions
he was recalled — but, in less than two months, Wellington came before the
countiy, with a proposal, on the part of the Government, to grant the Catholic
claims. — M.

388 CATHOLIC LEADERS.

iijt put his Christian gentleness aside. His preaching is of
the first order. It is difficult to hear his sermons upon charity
without tears; and there is, independently of the charms of
diction and the graces of elocution, of which he is a master, an
internal evidence of his own profound conviction of what he
utters, that makes its way to the heart. When he stands in
the pulpit, it is no exaggeration to say that he diffuses a kind
of piety about him ; he seems to belong to the holy edifice,
and it may be saidv>f him with perfect truth —

"At church, with mtu-k and unaffected graco,
His looks adorned the- venerable place."

It is obvious that such a man, attended by all the influence
which his office, his abilities, ,%rid his apostolic life, confer upon
him, must have added greifc veight to the proceedings of the
Association, when, with a zeal in patriotism corresponding with
his ardor in religion, he caused himself to be enrolled among
its members. " The contemplation of the wrongs of my coun-
try" (he exclaimed, at a public meeting held in the beautiful
and magnificent Catholic Cathedral in Marlborough street, Dub-
lin)— "the contemplation of the wrongs of my country makes
rny soul burn within me !" As he spoke thus, he pressed to his
heart the hand which the people were accustomed to see ex-
alted from the altar in raising the Host to heaven. His fine
countenance was inflamed with emotion, and his whole frame
trembled under the dominion of the vehement feeling by which
he was excited.

These are the men whom our Government, in its wisdom,
have placed in alienation from the state, and whose character
has been sketched in the passage which I have quoted from
the works of Doctor Doyle. The other eminent ecclesiastic
who contributed greatly to augment the power of the Associa-
tion, was Doctor Kelly, the terror of the Beresfords, and the
author of Mr. Villiers Stuart. This able man, the Becket of
Ireland, was imported to us from America.

END OF VOL. I.

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

LORD NORBURY.

His Rise and Progress. — Fighting One's Way to Fortune. — Sir Boyle
Roche's Bulls. — Robert Emmett's Trial. — Norbury's Judicial Brutality.
— His Personal Appearance. — Scenes in his Court. — A Noble Jester. —
His Intolerant Politics. — The Saurin Letter. — His Enforced Resigna-
tion PAGE 5

CLONMEL ASSIZES.

Murder of Mr. Chadwick. — Trial and Execution of Patrick Grace. — The
Approver and Vengeance. — Murder of Daniel Mara. — Trial of the As-
sassins.— Earl of Kingston. — The Melodrama of Crime Capital

Conviction. — Causes of Irish Disaffection 41

THE CATHOLIC BAR.

Exclusion of Catholics. — Sir Theobald Butler's Pleading against the
Penal Laws.— The Gallant Sarsfield. — British Violation of the Treaty of
Limerick. — Lord Chesterfield and Lady Palmer. — Mr. William Bellew.
— Catholic Marriages. — Money. — The Court of Chancery. — A Cath-
olic Lawyer's Religious Manifestations 75

SIR MICHAEL O'LOGHLIN.

His Person, Deportment, and Descent. — Bar Costume. — Bumbo Green,
the Legal Falstaff. — British Judicial System. — Chief-Baron O'Grady. —
Sir W. C. Smith. — O'Loghlin appointed Master of the Rolls. — Is made
a Baronet. — His Danish Ancestor 106

LORD-CHANCELLOR BLACKBURNE.

Chief Baron Wolfe. — Peter Henchey and Lord Manners. — Peter Bur-
rowes. — Ill-timed Ascendency Manifestation. — Curran's Eloquence and
Conversation. — Blackburne's Practice and Promotions. — Orange Char-
ter Toast. — The Burning of the Sheas. — Shell's Speech to the Peasant-
ry 118

CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOR BARRISTER.

Training for the Bar. — Gale Jones. — Early Struggles. — An Aggregate
Meeting. — Results of an Oration. — The Lawyer in Love. — A Double
Confidant. — Eloquence de Billet. — The Gain of Godliness. — Hope de-
ferred.— Dancing into Practice 15-}

4 CONTENTS.

LORD-CHANCELLOR MANNERS.
His Biography.— Farewell to the Irish Bar.— Mr. Joy's Valediction.—

Catholic Magistrates. — Dublin Corporation PAGE 172

THE MANNERS TESTIMONIAL.
Scenes in the Chancellor's Career.— The Jesuits.— Judicial Incompetency.

— Lord Rathdown in Character 184

THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

Catholic Politics in 1825.— Invasion of England.— O'Connell en route.—
Dr. Milner and Charles Butler. — Burdett, Plunket, Brougham, Weth-
erell, Peel, and Joseph Hume, the Dukes of Devonshire and Leinster,
Lords Durham and Abinger, Dukes of Sussex and Norfolk, Coke of Nor-
folk.—Character of O'Connell's Eloquence. — Catholic Meeting in Lon-
don.—A Dinner Batch of Nobles.— Charles James Fox and Lord Grey. 192

ARCHIBALD HAMILTON ROWAN.

An Irish Patriot.— Remarkable Exterior.— Flight from Prison.— Jackson's
Chivalry. — Asylum in America • • • • 230

JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.

Louth Election in 1826.— The Roden and Oriel League. — Harry Mills,
the "Village Hampden."— Cost of making a Peer. — Leslie Foster in
Parliament. — Nobility among the Commons. — Marquis of Anglesey. —
Bot Smith. — The Customs' Job. — Foster in Ermine 235

THE CLARE ELECTION, IN 1828.

Vesey Fitzgerald opposed by the Catholic Association. — Candidate-Hunt-
ing.— O'Connell in the. Field. — Tom Steele, O'Gorman Mahon, and
"Honest Jack Lawless."— Father Tom Maguire. — The Priest of Cor-
ofin. — The Contest. — O'Connell's Victory, and its Results. — Shell's
Speech. — " The Duke" and Catholic Emancipation 265

PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.

Gathering of the "Men of Kent." — Cobbett and Hunt. — The Brunswick-
ers. — Lord Camden, a Model Sinecurist. — Sheil's Unspoken Speech . . 315

LORD CHANCELLOR BROUGHAM, IN 1831.

HisElevation. — Lord Lyndhurst. — The Chancellor's Levee. — Archbishops
of Canterbury and York. — Wellington and Brougham. — Francis Jef-
frey.—Scarlett. — Jocky Bell. — The Speaker. — Lord Denman 340

STATE OF PARTIES IN DUBLIN.

Recent Changes. — Mr. Bellew "in Silk Attire." — O'Loghlin. — Purcel
O'Gorman. — Dublin Election. — The Candidates: Moore and Recorder
Shaw, Harty and Louis Pen-in. — Sir Anthony Hart and the Master of
the Rolls. — Mr. Saurin. — Dutch Smugglers. — Popular Triumph 354

INDEX . 367

SKETCHES OF THE IRISH BAR,

LORD NORBURY.

THREE remarkable incidents have lately taken place. LORD
NORBURY, in testimony of his long and numerous services, has
been created an earl, Lord Pkinket has sunk into his successor,
and Lord Manners took his leave amidst a strong odor of
onions, and the tears of the Irish Bar.* I had intended to
make these three events the groundwork of the present article;
for Lord Plunket's first appearance on the stage from which
Lord Norbury had just made his exit — his wan and dejected
aspect, which was, as much as his intellect, in contrast with that
of his predecessor — the melancholy smile which superseded
his habitually haughty and sardonic expression — the exulta-
tion of his antagonists at seeing him descend from his recent
elevation, and the sympathy which the liberal portion of the
Bar felt in what was considered as his fall, presented a scene
of deep and extraordinary interest.

It was also my purpose (inasmuch as no reasonable expecta-
tion can be entertained that a new edition of Rose and Beattie
will afford an opportunity of attaching, by way of appendix

* This Sketch was published in November, 1827, but appears to have been
written before Canning's death, which took place in August, during the same
year. The retirement of Lord Manners from the Chancellorship, and the ap-
pointment of Plunket as Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, took place, under
Canning's Administration, in 1827. — M.

# LORD

to those immortal records of judicial wisdom, a report of Lord
Manners's last judgment upon himself) to preserve some account
of his lordship's final adjudication upon his own merits, and to
commemorate the tear that fell upon that pathetic occasion
from the " Outalissi" of the Four Courts —

" The first, the last, the only tear
That Peter Henchey shed :"

but I find that the first of the incidents to which I have re-
ferred, together with an account of the progress of Lord Nor-
bury through the various parts which he performed in the
political theatre, from his first entrance as "an Irish gentle-
man" in the House of Commons, to his exit as a jester from
the bench, will occupy so much space, that I must confine
myself to the biography of his Lordship ; which, however little
it may be instructive, will not, I think, be found unamusing,
and falls within the scope of the articles on the Irish Bar.

In the account given by Sir Pertinax Macsycophant of his
rise and progress in the world, he states that his only patri-
mony was a piece of parental advice, which stood him in lieu
of an estate. I have heard it said, that Lord Norbury, in
detailing the circumstances which attended his original ad-
vancement in life, generally commenced the narrative of his
adventures with a death-bed scene of a peculiarly Irish char-
acter. His father, a gentleman of a respectable Protestant
family in the county of Tipperary, called him in his last
moments to his side, and after stating that, in order to sustain
the ancient and venerable name of Toler in its dignity, he
had devised the estate derived from a sergeant (not at law) to
his eldest son, the old Cromwellian drew from under his pillow
a case of silver-mounted pistols, and, delivering this " donatio
mortis causa," charged him never to omit exhibiting the
promptitude of an Irish gentleman, in resorting to these foren-
sic and parliamentary instruments of advancement.*

* Lord Norbury made frequent, if not good, use of his pistols — "barkers,"
as they were called in fighting parlance. He fought with several persons, one
of whom was the ruffianly " Fighting Fitzgerald" who was finally hanged for
murder. In those days a duel was necessary to fix a man's character. Wheu
a young man entered society, the first word wap, " What family does he como

CALLEt) TO THE fcAR. 7

The family acres Laving gone to tlie eldest brother, our hero
proceeded with his specific legacy, well oiled and primed, to
Dublin, having no other fortune than the family pistols, and a
couple of hundred pounds, when he was called, in the year
1770, to the Bar. The period is so remote, that no account of
his earlier exploits, beyond that of his habitual substitution of
the cations of chivalry for those of law, has remained. With
one of his contemporaries, the late Sir Frederick Flood, I
was acquainted, and I have heard that eminent person, whom
the intellectual aristocracy of Wexford sent to supply the
place of Mr. Fuller in the British House of Commons,* occa-

from ?" the second, " Who has he blazed with ?" When plain Mr. Toler, Lord
Norbury quarrelled with Sir Jonah Barrington. It was in the House of Com-
mons, when Barrington having accused him of having " a hand for every man
and a heart for nobody" (which was true to the letter), Toler gave a sharp re-
ply, and hurriedlv retired. Harrington, who understood his look, followed.
The Speaker sent in pursuit of both gentlemen. Barrington was overtaken,
running down Nassau street, and, on his resistance, was bodily snatched up, in
presence of a shouting mob of grinning spectators, and literally carried into the
House, on a man's shoulders. Toler, caught by his coat-skirts being fastened
by a door, was seized, and pulled until the skirts were separated from the gar-
ment. The Speaker called on both to give a promise that the affair should go
no further, which Barrington did at once. Toler rose to speak, minus his skirts,
and the laughter caused by his appearance was increased when Curran grave- \
ly said that " it was offering an unparalleled insult to the House, for one hon- V\/\
orable member to trim another member's jacket, within the precincts of Par- (*
liament, and almost in view of the Speaker himself." To the last, even when
judge, Norbury was anxious to display himself in the duello. There is no
doubt that his advancement was owing more to his readiness to challenge and
fight, than to any merit as a lawyer. He valued his life at nothing — a very
fair estimate. — M.

* Sir Frederick Flood was member for Wexford County in the Imperial Par-
liament, where he was much laughed at for his blunders, his ostentation, and
his good temper. He used to adopt almost any suggestion, while making a
speech. Praising the Wexford magistracy for their zeal, he suggested, " Tl ey
ought to receive some signal mark of vice-regal favor." Egan (commonly
called Bully Egan, and judge of Dublin County) jocularly whispered, "and be
whipped at the cart's tail." Flood, hearing the words, completed his speech
by adding — "arid be whipped at the cart's tail!" He did not discover his
unconscious mistake, until awakened by a shout of laughter from his auditors.
Jack Fuller was an English M. P., who was the acknowledged Parliamentary
buffoon, after the brilliant wit of Sheridan ceased to enliven the Legislature.
Fuller was a mere joker : Sheridan a man of genius. — M.

LORD

sionally expatiate on the feats which he used to perform with
Lord Norbury, with something of the spirit with which Justice
Shallow records his achievements at Clement's Inn. " Oh the
mad days that I have spent," Sir Frederick used to say, " and
to think that so many of -my old acquaintances are dead !"
The details, however, of his narrations have escaped me. I
had calculated that, as he was a strict disciple of Aljprnetliy
(except when he dined out), he would have equalled Cornaro
in longevity ; but being as abstemious in his dress as in his
diet, and having denied himself the luxury of an exterior
integument, Sir Frederick coughed himself, a couple of winters
since, unexpectedly away. I am, therefore, unable to resort
to any of Lord Norbury's original companions, for an authentic
account of the first development of his genius at the Irish
Bar.

If that bar had been constituted as it is at present, at the
period when Lord Norbury was called, it is difficult to imagine
how he could have succeeded. Destitute of knowledge, with
a mind which, however shrewd and sagacious in the perception
of his own interests, was unused to consider, and was almost
incapable of comprehending any legal proposition, he could
never have risen to any sort of eminence, where perspicuity or
erudition was requisite for success. But the qualifications for
distinction, at the time when Lord Norbury was called, were
essentially different from what they are at present. Endowed
with the lungs of Stentor, and a vivacity of temperament
which sustained him in all the turbulence of Irish Nisi Prius,
and superadding to his physical attributes for noise and blus-
ter, a dauntless determination, he obtained some employment
in those departments of his profession, in which merits of the
kind were at that time of value. His elder brother, Daniel,
was elected member for the county of Tipperary, which brought
him into connection with Government; but, besides his broth-
er's vote, he is reported to have intimated to the ministry, that
upon all necessary occasions his life should be at their service,
The first exploit from which his claims upon the gratitude of
the local administration of the country were chiefly derived,
was the " putting down," to use the technical phrase, of Mr.

CHALLENGES NAPPER TANDY. 9

apper Tandy.* The latter was a distinguished member of
the Whig Club, and was a tribune of the people.

Tandy had set up great pretensions to intrepidity, but,
having come into collision with Lord Norbury, manifested so
little alacrity in accepting the ready tender which was made
to him by that intrepid loyalist, that the latter was considered
to have gained a decided superiority. Napper Tandy re-
mained lingering on the threshold of the arena, while the
prize-fighter of the ministers rushed into it at once, and brand-
ished his sword amidst the applauses of that party, of which
he was thenceforward the champion. The friends of Napper
Tandy accounted for his tardiness in calling on Lord Norbury
(who declared his willingness to meet him in half an hour), by
referring it to an apprehension that the House of Commons
would interfere ; but it seems probable that the patriot of the
hour set a higher estimate upon his existence than it merited,

* James Napper Tandy was an Irishman, of good family, high education,
and respectable fortune. He was a United Irishman, and retired to France,
to avoid arrest in Ireland. There he received a commission, as general of bri
gade, in one of the expeditions against Ireland, in 1798, which came to noth-
ing. The year following, Napper Tandy was in Hamburgh, where the English
Government had spies, and the local authorities surrendered him, as a prisoner
claimed by England. Napoleon, who was then first consul, reclaimed Tandy, as\
an officer in the army of France, and declared that if a hair of his head were )
touched, an English officer of equal rank, taken prisoner in France, should he 1
hanged. The threat was a strong one, the man likely to execute it, and, in-T ^
stead of executing Tandy as " a traitor," England exchanged him, as a pris-/
oner-of-war. He died in the French service. Napoleon levied a heavy fine
on the city of Hamburgh for their breach of neutrality in surrendering a French
officer. It should be noted that Theobald Wolfe Tone, taken in arms in Le
Hoche, a French ship-of-war which took troops to Ireland in September, 1798,
had as much right to be reclaimed by France, in whose military office he was,
as Tandy. There was not time to do so, so rapidly did his trial and conviction
follow his capture. It is known that Tone cut his throat in prison, to avoid
death on the scaffold. But it is not generally known that it was seriously dis-
cussed by the Irish executive, whether, " for the sake of the example," he
should not be conducted to the gallows, half-dead as he was, and executed
forthwith — though to do so, it would be necessary to insert the halter within
the wound, and thereby probably tear the victim's head from his body ! Human-
ity or the fear of public execration prevailed, and Tone was suffered to die in
peace, after lingering for eight days : mortal pain, — M.

i*

10 LORD NORBtmY.

while Lord Norbury rated liimself at liis real value, and did
not " set his life at a pin's fee."

After this affair, which mainly contributed to the making of
his fortunes, the minister determined to turn the principal,
talent which he appeared to possess, and of which he had
given so conspicuous a proof to farther account. In the Irish
House of Commons, the government party, when hard pressed,
converted the debate into a sort of sanguinary burletta, in
which Lord Norbury, then Sergeant Toler, and Sir Boyle
Roche,* of blundering memory, were their favorite performers.

* Sir Boyle Roche was an Irish Baronet, who had a seat in Parliament, and
was the droll of the House. He was famous for his bulls — which, though the
expression might be incorrect, generally involved aphorisms of sound sense.
He was of respectable family — with a claim to the title of Viscount Fermoy, but
never urging it. Once, when it was stated, on a money-grant, that it was unjust
to saddle posterity with a debt incurred to benefit the present generation, Sir
Boyle rose up and said, " Why should we beggar ourselves to benefit posterity ?
What has posterity done for us?" The laugh which followed rather surprised
him, as he was unconscious of his blunder. He explained : " Sir, by posterity
I do not mean our ancestors, but those who come immediately after them.11
— Arguing in favor of a harsh Government measure, he urged that it would be
better to give up not only a part, but even the whole of the constitution, to pre-
serve the remainder.11 — On another occasion, as a free translation of

" Tu no cede malis, sed contra audentior ito,"

he said " The best way to avoid danger, is to meet it plump.11 — Complaining of
the smallness of wine-bottles, he suggested that a bill should be passed enact-
ing that every quart-bottle should hold a quart. — He married Sir John Cave's eld-
est daughter, and boasted that if he had an older one, Sir John would have given
her to him. — Fearing the progress of revolutionary opinions,he drew a frightful pic-
ture of the future, remarking that the House of Commons might be invaded by
ruffians who, said he, " would cut us to mince-meat and throw our bleeding heads
on that table, to stare us in the face." — Arguing in favor of the Union of Ireland
with England, he said (rather wittily) that " there was no Levitical degrees be-
twer n nations, and, on this occasion, he saw neither sin nor shame in marrying our
own sister.11 — He brought in a bill for the improvement of the Dublin police,
who were in the habit of sleeping on their post, at night, and introduced a
clause to the effect that " every watchman should be compelled to sleep in the
daytime." On this, another member arose and begged to be included in that
clause, by name, " as he was troubled with the gout and sometimes could not
sleep by night or day." — He assisted in preparing a bill to provide for the erec-
tion of a new jail in Dublin, and stated that the new prison should be built on
the site and with the n-iterials of the old one, and that the prisoners should

SIR BOYLE ROCHE AND HIS BULLS. 11

When Grattan had ignited the House of Commons, and suc-
ceeded in awakening some recollections of public virtue in that
corrupt and prostituted assembly, or when Mr. Ponsonby, the
leader of the Whig aristocracy, had, by his clear and simple
exposition of the real interests of the country, brought a reluc-
tant conviction of their duty to those who were most interested in
shutting it out, finding themselves unequal to cope in eloquence
with the one, or in argument with the other, the government
managers produced Sir Boyle Roche and Sergeant Toler upon
the scene.

On Grattan the experiment of bullying was not tried, for his
nVmness was too well known. Sir Boyle was, therefore, ap-
pointed to reply to him, as his absurdities were found to be
useful in restoring the House to that moral tone, from which
the elevating declamation of the greatest speaker of his time
had for a moment raised them. Under the influence of Sir
Boyle's blunders, which Avere in part intended, the Irish legis-
lators recovered their characteristic pleasantry, and " made
merry of a nation's woes;" while Sergeant Toler, who almost
equalled Sir Boyle in absurdity, and was more naturally, be-

continue to reside in the old prison until the new one was completed ! — Bar- ,
rington states that the postillion of Lord Lisle having been mulcted in damages \
for crim. con. with Lady Lisle, and imprisoned in default of payment, and an /
applicant for relief as an Insolvent Debtor, which the Legislature resisted, Sir
Boyle Roche argued for him (and with much plausibility) that " Lady Lisle,
and not Dennis M'Carthy, must have been the real seducer," and concluded
by asking " Mr. Speaker, what was this poor servant's crime? — Sure, it was
only doing his master's business by his mistress's order." — Curran used to say
that Sir Boyle Roche had a rival in an Irish Judge, who sagely contended, in
an argument on the construction of a will, that " it appeared to him that the v-
testator meant to keep a life interest in the estate to himself." Curran an-/
swered, " True, my Lord ; testators do generally secure a life interest for them-
selves, but in this case, I rather think you take the will for the deed." Sir Boyle
Roche's bulls illustrated what may be called arguing wrongly from rigjj^renj-
ISPS. To illustrate this, let me add a bull by another. Two Irishmen met,
after a long separation, arid to an inquiry after the health of a third person, the
reply was, " Oh, he's been ill. He's had the fever. It has worn him down, as
thin as a thread-paper. You are thin, and / am thin, but he is thinner than
both of us put together." Here the idea is fully conveyed, but, in the hurry of
clothing the thought with language, the mode of expression is incorrect. And
such is that amusing thing — an Irish Bull. — M.

12 LOKD NORBURY.

cause he was involuntarily extravagant, played his part, and
was let loose upon Mr. Ponsonby, whose nerves were of a deli-
cate organization, with singular effect. That eminent states-
man had made a speech, recommending Catholic Emancipa-
tion, and other collateral measures, as the only means of rescu-
ing Ireland from the ruin which impended over her. He was
always remarkable for the dignified urbanity of his manners,
and in the speech to which Sergeant Toler replied, scarcely
any man but Toler could have found materials for personal
vituperation.

The English reader will be able to form some idea of the
system on which the debates of the Irish House of Commons
were carried on, and to estimate Lord Norbury's powers of
minacious oratory, from the following extract from the parlia-
mentary debates: "What wras it come to, that in the Irish
House of Commons they should listen to one of their own
members degrading the character of an Irish gentleman by
language 'which was fitted but for hallooing a mob? Had he
heard a man uttering out of those doors such language as that
by which the honorable gentleman had violated the decorum
of Parliament, he would have seized the ruffian by the throat,
and dragged him to the dust ! What were the House made
of, who could listen in patience to such abominable sentiments?
sentiments, thank God ! which were acknowledged by no
class of men in this country, except the execrable and infamous
nest of traitors, who were known by the name of United Irish-
men, who sat brooding in Belfast over their discontents and
treasons, and from whose publications he could trace, word for
word, every expression the honorable gentleman had used." —
Irish Parliamentary Debates, Feb., 1797.

Of this fragment of vituperation Mr. Ponsonby took no no-
tice; and the object of the orator was attained, in securing
himself a new title to the gratitude of those who kept a band
of bravoes hired in their service, and could not have selected
a more appropriate instrument than Lord Norbury for the pur-
poses of intimidation. To his personal courage, or rather
recklessness of the lives of others as well as his own, he is
chiefly indebted for his promotion. It was the leading trait

HIS PROMOTION. 13

of liis character, and, prevailing over liis extravagance, invested
him with a sort of spurious respectability. In the manifesta-
tions of that spirit, which had become habitual, he has perse-
vered to the last ; and even since he has been a Chief-Justice
has betrayed his original tendency to settle matters after the
old Irish fashion, at the distance of twelve paces. He has
more than once intimated to a counsel, who was pressing him
too closely with a Bill of Exceptions, that he would not seek
shelter behind the bench, or merge the gentleman in the Chief-
Justice; and, when a celebrated senator charged him with
having fallen asleep on a trial for murder, he is reported to
have declared that he would resign, in order to demand satis-
faction, as " that Scotch Broom (Brougham) wanted nothing so
much as an Irish stick"

In the year 1798, Lord Norbury was his Majesty's Solicitor-
General. His services to Government had been hitherto con-
fined to the display of ferocious rhetoric in the House of Com-
mons, of which I have quoted a specimen. The civil disturb-
ances of the country offered a new field to his genius, and
afforded him an opportunity of accumulating his claims upon
the gratitude of the Crown, which could not have found a more
zealous, and, I will even add, a more useful servant during the
rebellion. If the juries before whom the hordes who were
charged with high treason were put upon their trial, had been
either scrupulous or reluctant, if any questions of effectual
difficulty could have arisen, and the forms of the law could
have been used with any chance of success in the defence of
the prisoners, if Justice had not rushed with eagerness through
every impediment, and broken all ceremony down, such a
Solicitor-General as Lord Norbury would have been an inap-
plicable and inefficient instrument; but the evidence of in-
formers was generally so direct and simple, and so strong was
the impatience of juries to precipitate themselves to a convic-
tion, all niceties and technicalities of the law were so utterly
disregarded, and it was so little requisite that the conductors
of Government prosecutions should possess either acuteness or
knowledge, that Lord Norbury's faculties were quite equal to
the discharge of his official duty, while they were in happy

14: LORD NORBURY.

adaptation to the moral character of the public tribunals, and
the exigency of the time.

To strike terror into the people was the great object to be
attained, and Lord Norbmy had many qualifications for the
purpose. He stood in a court of justice, not only as the servant
of his sovereign, but as the representative, in some measure,
of the powerful Cromwellian aristocracy to which his family
belonged, and in whose prejudi ;es and passions he himself
vehemently participated. His whole bearing and aspect
breathed a turbulent spirit of domination. His voice was deep
and big ; and in despite of the ludicrous associations connected
with his character, Avhen it rolled the denunciations of infuri-
ated power through the court, derived from the terrible intima-
tions which it conveyed, an awful and appalling character.
He did not, indeed, cease to utter absurdity, but his orations
were fraught with a kind of truculent bombast — a sort of san-
guinary "fee, fa, fum !" while the dilation of his nostrils, and
the fierceness of His look, expressed, if I may so say, the scent
of a traitor's blood.* In his moments of excitation (and he is

* It may seem uncharitable to pronounce such an opinion, but there appear
etrong grounds for thinking that Lord Norbury, as a Judge, felt a sort of mor-
bid pleasure in presiding at the trial, and (what under him was pretty sure to
follow) the conviction of persons prosecuted by the Government. During the
fatal and blood-stained year of 1798, he was Attorney-General, and had the
task — if task it were to him who could say of it, " The duty I delight in physics
pain" — of conducting the State Trials. In my youth, when I used to listen to
old men's tales of the legal tortures and butcheries of '98, the narrators would
tell how " bloody Toler" (as he was called) strained every point against pris-
oners, how he would insist on eveiy quirk and quibble to convict them, how he
would browbeat the witnesses, and all but threaten the juries, and how compla-
cently, when the verdict was delivered, he would"insist on the passing of a sen-
tence of immediate — of almost instant death. Such was it, in the case of the
Sheareses, mentioned in the preceding volume, where on the part of the Crown,
he sternly refused their counsel the slightest pause for rest and thought, after the
trial had already lasted sixteen consecutive hours ; when, the verdict being re-
turned at eight in the morning, he had the doomed brothers brought up that
same afternoon, for judgment ; how he insisted on their execution taking place
the next morning ; and 1 ow the condemnation was literally forced, by him, on
the evidence of a single and tainted witness, the law of England requiring two
to establish an overt-ac; of high treason. Then, too, while Lord Norbury's
name was uttered vr'th ' curscg both loud and deep," I used to hear of this

15

capable of ascending beyond the level of ordinary feeling and
discourse) his spirit was strongly roused, and his countenance,
swelled as it was with passion, and stained with a dark red,
became the image of his intellect and of his sensibility. His
eyes wers inflamed with a ferocious loyalty, and the conscious-
ness of unbounded power; and while they glared on the
wretches who stood pale and trembling at the bar, or were
fixed in defiance on the counsel for the prisoner, assisted, with

man's inhuman bearing toward Robert Emmett — the kindest, most chivalric,
and truest man that ever breathed ; who, like Lord Edward Fitzgerald, might
have escaped, but, like him, declined to find safety in flight, leaving other and
meaner partners in the revolt to face the peril and the death-doom. Emmett,
from the first, did not deny his conspiracy against the English misrule which
had reduced his country from independence to its opposite — from a kingdom to
a province. All through, he was chiefly anxious to show that he never contem-
plated establishing French power in Ireland — of substituting one tyranny for
another. In the speech which he made, after conviction, when called upon to
say why judgment of death should not pass, he strongly urged this: — " Small,
indeed," said he, " would be our claim to patriotism and sense, and palpable our
affectation of the love of liberty, if we were to sell our country to a people who
are not only slaves themselves, but the unprincipled and abandoned instruments
of imposing slavery on others." In this vindication of his motives, Emmett
was repeatedly and roughly interrupted by Norbury. Then came the sharp
" You, my lord, are a judge. I am the supposed culprit. I am a man — you
are a man also. By a revolution of power we might change places, though
we never could change characters." And then the defiance : " There are men
concerned in this conspiracy who are not only superior to me, but even to your
own conceptions of yourself, my lord — men before the splendor of whose genius
and virtues I should bow with respectful deference, and who would not deign
to call you friend — who would not disgrace themselves by shaking your blood-
stained hand." The Government of that day suspected that three noblemen were
in this conspiracy — one of whom, on what suspicion br proof is unknown, was
the late Lord Cloncurry, who was arrested. It was a belief in Ireland, from the
time that Robert Emmett was executed, that Lord Norbury would meet a doom
as tragical. He lived on, however, like the Thane of Cawdor, " a prosperous
gentleman." Boundless wealth filled his coffers. Worldly honors crowded upon
him. At last he died. But the Irish remembered how the sins of the fathers
are visited on the sons. Eight years after Lord Norbury's death, his succes-
sor was shot on his own demesne of Durrow Abbey, and, to this hour, there has
been no detection of the assassin. As if to make it more inexplicable, the
doomed man was a good landlord — as landlords are estimated in Ireland.
He was neither absentee, nor exacting, nor litigious. He was simply the
lepresentative of the blood-stained judge, and the shaft of vengeance fell upop

16 LORD NORBURY.

their savage glare, the canons of extermination which the
orator was laying down. A certain trick of expanding his
cheeks, and swelling them with wind, which he puffed impor-
tantly off, set off his tempestuous adjurations, and made him
look as if he were blowing all mercy and compunction away.
Thus he was every way well adapted to his terrible task.

Nor was he less qualified, when, in his capacity of Solicitor-
General, he was put on the commission, and went as a judge
of assize. Much of the same demeanor and deportment was
preserved on the bench, where the red robes in which he was
arrayed heightened the impression which his face, voice, and
figure, were calculated to produce.* There was, however,

* Norbury's personal appearance was very remarkable. He was more than
eighty when I first saw him, and resembled a caricatured character in a panto-
mime rather than a grave judicial personage. Charles Phillips said of him
that " the chivalry of Quixote was incased in the paunch of Sancho Panza," but
Chivalry and Norbury were antipodes, not synonymes. He had a sort of animal
courage, or insensibility to danger, but was innocent of the gallant delight

" Which warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel."

He was nearly as broad as he was long, with a large and rubicund face ; small
and twinkling eyes, and a curious expression of ferret-like keenness, resulting,
in all likelihood, from his being perpetually on the watch for the opportunity
of a joke. His laugh was so hearty as to be infectious. Like Hamlet, he was
" fat and scant of bi-eath," and, was perpetually puffing — like an asthmatic lo-
comotive. From this, though resembling the German civilian in nothing, he
had obtained the soubriquet of Puffendorf. On the bench, he would pant, and
pun, and puff, chuckling with glee at the laughter he created, until, as the fun
came faster and faster, and the buffo grew hotter and hotter, he would let his
judicial robe fall from his shoulders, shift his judicial wig to obtain ventilation,
and return it to his head, with the tails, most probably, hanging before instead
of behind ! On one occasion, Lady Castlereagh gave a fancy-ball, at which
Lord Norbury appeared as Hawthorn, in " Love in a Village," and was extremely
amusing. His dress was a green tabinet, with mother-of-pearl buttons, striped
yellow and black vest, and black breeches. If showy, the attire, from its ma-
terials, was light. When Nofbury next wept the Circuit, as judge, this fancy-
dress found its way into one of his travelling trunks. The weather was warm
the sitting of the Court would last for seven or eight hours, the dress was thin
— Norbury donned it, and covered with his ample judicial robes, no one could
see it. By-and-by, the heat became almost intolerable. Norbury gave his wig
the usual twitch to the side ; then he turned up the sleeves of his robe ;' next,
he loosened the girdle which confined it round his waist ; and, lastly, when
the loosened envelope had gradually opened, there was the Chief Justice- 8^n

INDIFFERENCE FOE LIFE. IT

tliis difference, that his spirit of buffoonery became more con-
spicuous upon the bench. It should not, however, be too has-
tily concluded that his love of drollery in any degree disquali-
fied him for the exercise of the judicial functions. On the
contrary, his merits as a jester were among his most useful
and efficient attributes as a judge. He was fanciful or turgid,
just as the occasion required.

In his addresses to the jury, he was as swollen with exag-
gerated loyalty as the gravest supporter of Protestant Ascen-
dency could have desired ; while during the rest of the trial,
he put on a demeanor of heedless hilarity, which indicated the
little value which he attached to the life of an insurgent, and
taught the populace at what rate human breath was estimated
in his court. The effect of the tortures of Macbriar, in " Old
Mortality," is greatly heightened by the merriment by which
the Duke of Lauderdale exclaims, "He will make an old prov-
erb good, for he'll scarce ride to-day, though he has had his
boots on." I do not, however, believe that the indifference for
human life which was indicated by Lord Norbury's judicial
mirth, was at all studied or systematic, or the result of cruelty
of disposition. He is naturally of a gay and pleasant cast of

in his Hawthorn dress, chuckling over the jokes with which he amused himself
and the Court in the intervals between the graver business of sentencing cul-
prits to be hanged. — He was usually very polite to prisoners. On one occasion,
when he had to sentence half a dozen, he had them all brought up, in a batch,
and, severally naming five of them, pronounced judgment of death. An officer
of the Court reminded his Lordship that he had missed one. The convict was
sent for. " My good man," said Norbury, blowing like a grampus, " I've made
a mistake about you, and I really must beg your pardon [puff puff puff], I
should have sentenced you with the rest [puff] and quite omitted your name
[puff] — pray excuse me. The sentence of the law is [puff] that you, Darby
Mahony [puff] — I really wonder how I came to pass you over — be taken hence
to prison, and from prison to the place of execution [puff] and there hanged
by the neck until you are dead [puff] — I do hope you will excuse my mistake —
and may the Lord [puff] have mercy on your soul. That's all, my good man
[puff] — turnkey, remove Darby Mahony." The victim coolly turned round
as he was quitting the dock, exclaiming, " Faith, my Lord, I can't thank you
for your prayers, for I never heard of any one that throve after your making
them!" Norbury, who relished a retort, actually granted Darby a reprieve be-
fore leaving the assize-town, and successfully recommended him for u commuta-
tion of punishment on his return to Dublin, — JVL

18 IOED NORBURY.

mind; and it is, I fancy, impossible for him to keep ludicrous
notions out, It is also but justice to him to add, tfrat his jokes
were not, like the Duke of Lauderdale's, at the expense of the
prisoner, who stood aghast and dismayed before him; and if
they showed that he did not entertain any very profound sense
of the awfulness of the transition to another state of existence,
still, as they were not directed to the culprit at the bar, his
witticisms gave no indications of natural savageness of heart,
from which I believe him to be wholly free. His imagination
was hurried away by some whimsical idea, and the moment a
grotesque image presented itself, or a fantastical anecdote was
recalled to his recollection, he could not keep it in, but let it
involuntarily escape upon the court.

But these vagaries did not render the administration of jus-
tice in his hands less terrific; and while he himself gave way
to the merriment which he could not restrain, the countenances
of the crowds with which the public tribunals were filled, in their
fearful expression, as well as their ghastly color, exhibited an
awful contrast with his own. He could, indeed, with impunity
indulge in these judicial antics amid the assemblage of pallid
wretches by whom he was surrounded ; when it might be justly
said, in reference to them and to the moral expression of his
visage and its complexion, " Cum tot pallor ibus sufficeret scevus
istc vultus, atque rubor, quo se contra pudorem muniebat" In
his charges, too, he made ample compensation for the conun-
drums with which he interrupted the examination of witnesses;
for he threw off in an instant the character of a jester, resum-
ed the terrors of his deep and denunciating voice, and turning
to the prisoners, spoke of that eternity to which he was about
to despatch them, with an awfulness and solemnity which jus-
tified Lord Clare, who objected to his being created a Chief-
Justice, in recommending that he should enter the church, and
be made a bishop.

The proposition that those brows, on which the black cap
had been so frequently and so conspicuously displayed, should
be invested with a mitre, did credit to Lord Clare, who, with
all his partiality for the church, was more solicitous for the
dignity of the judicial than the episcopal bench; and Ijacl hit*

OtttEF-ittTSTlCE CARLETON. 19

suggestion been adopted, Lord Norbury, attired in lawn, would
Lave proved an agreeable accession to the House of Lords, and
while he relieved the tedium of many a weary debate with his
pious jokes arid his holy merriment, he would in all likelihood
have looked as appropriate a successor of the apostles as their
lordships of Ossory or Kilmore. If he had been created Aich-
bishop of Dublin, what a spirit of good humor would have been
infused into our polemics ; how many a sacred jest would have
sparkled in his jovial and laughter-stirring homilies ! We
should have been spared a fierce and unprovoked aggression on
the religion of the people, and should never have seen a barb-
ed and envenomed arrow shot from behind the altar, in shape
of a wanton and virulent antithesis. Lord Norbury officiating
as Archbishop of Dublin, presents a pleasant picture to the
mind, and of a character as truly Christian as the reality
afford s.

Unfortunately, however, Lord Clare was overruled ; and
Lord Norbury, having been created a peer, was raised to the
Chief-Justiceship of the Common Pleas, on the resignation of
Lord Carleton.* For some time the terrors which had attend-
ed him during the rebellion, continued to be associated with
his name ; but at length the recollections of the civil commotions
in which he had played so remarkable a part, began to subside

* Hugh Carleton, born at Cork in 1739, was called to the Irish bar after
completing his education at Dublin University. He had little success for some
years, but rose to the office of Solicitor-General in 1779, which he retained
Until the appointment of the Duke of Portland, as Viceroy. He was made
Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, in 1787; created Baron Carleton in 1789,
and raised to the rank of Viscount in 1797. After the Union, and when he had
quitted the judicial bench, Lord Carleton sat in the Imperial Pai'liament, as
one of the Irish Representative peers. He was very unpopular in Ireland —
chiefly owing to his harsh conduct toward the Sheareses, in 1798, when presi-
ding at their trial, as previously related in page 99 of first volume. He allowed
them nothing like fair play in compelling their advocate, Mr. Curran, to enter
on their defence, at midnight, after the trial had already lasted sixteen hours.
In 1803, during Emmett's insurrection, when the populace met the carnage of
Lord Kilwarden, Chief-Justice of the Queen's Bench, who was rather popular,
he was mistaken for Carleton, Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, and liter-
ally killed by mistake. Lord Carleton had such a melancholy aspect and lu-
gubrious manner that Curran declared him to be plaintiff (plaintive) In every
cose that came before him. — M.

— liis ei.ergy in (lie cause of government was forgotten — nolle
but the ridiculous points of bis character stood out in any very-
considerable prominence, and he lost even that species of re-
spect which results from fear.

He was Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas from the year
1800, and diligently employed the whole of that period in
earning the reputation which he at length succeeded in estab-
lishing through the empire. "Lord Norbury's last joke" has
long been the ordinary title to a pleasant paragraph in the
English newspapers j* but it is right to add, in his vindication,

* A vast number of puns, each paragraphed as " Lord Norbury's Last," ap-
peared in the Irish newspapers in his lifetime. Every editor who made a joke
gent it upon the world as one of the Norbury family. His own jests were bet-
ter than most of the imitations. A man of his rank was tried before him for
arson, and acquitted. The populace shrewdly gave the name of " Moscow" to
the ruins of his house. Norbury met him soon after, at a Castle levee. " Glad
to meet you here," said the judge. " This is my last bachelor's visit, my lord :
I am going to turn Benedict." Norbury looked him full in the face while he
responded, "Ay, St. Paul says better marry than burn." — When giving judg-
ment on a writ of light, he declared that it was insufficient for a demandant
to say he " claimed by descent. Such an answer," he continued, " would be
a shrewd one for a sweep, who had entered your house, by getting down the
chimney ; and it would be an easy, as well as a sweeping way, of getting in." —
A marine officer having canvassed for a directorship in the National Assurance
Company of Ireland (there really was such* a body!) Lord Norbury stated that
he was very eligible, no doubt, from his experience in marine risks, his having
received premiums for taking lives, and for having himself escaped all dam-
ages from fire, though following a profession doubly hazardous ; " but," he
added, " inasmuch as the Captain does not hold the requisite number of shares
to qualify him, it is clear that his want of a sufficient stock of assurance is an
insurmountable bar to his election." — At Naas, on circuit, when a Counsel was
making a speech, an ass brayed very loudly outside, " One at a time, gentle-
men, if you please,'' said Norbury. Soon after, while his Lordship was ad-
dressing the jury, the same long-eared quadruped again began to give tongue.
" What noise is that ?" The counsel retorted, " Only the echo of the Court, my
Lord !" — The Irish had great faith in Edmund Burke's patriotism, which had
supported what was called " The Independence of Ireland," vi/., when the
army of Volunteers, associated in 1779, compelled the British Ministry to re-
peal the Statute of the sixth of George I., declaring that Ireland was bound by
British acts of Parliament, if named therein, that the Irish House of Lords had
no jurisdiction in Irish cases of appeal ; and that the dernier ressort, in all cases,
must be to the peers of Great Britain. Burke s son, Richard, was appointed
on a large salary, to get up the petition to the Irish Parliament, from the Irish

JllS BtTFFO PERFO&MEBS. 21

that much has been attributed to him which does not belong
to him; and many a dealer in illegitimate wit, who was
ashamed of acknowledging his own productions, laid his spu-
rious offspring at his lordship's door.

As he so essentially contributed to the amusement of the
public, he gradually grew into the general favor, and was
held in something like the reverence which is entertained by
the upper galleries for an eminent actor of farce. His per-
formances at Nisi Prius were greatly preferable, in the decline
of the Dublin stage, to any theatrical exhibition ; and, as he
drew exceedingly full houses, Mr. Jones [patentee of Dublin
Theatre] began to look at him with some jealousy, and is said
to have been advised by Mr. Sergeant Goold, who had a share
of c£3565 5,9. 6f d. in Crow-street Theatre, to file a bill for an
injunction against the Chief-Justice, for an infringement of his
patent. Lord Norbury was at the head of an excellent com-
pany. The spirit of the judge extended itself naturally
enough to the counsel ; and men who were grave and consid-

Catholics. Ignorant or regardless of the rules of the House of Commons, young
Burke determined to present the petition himself, and in the body not at the
bar of the House. He had reached the Treasury bench before he was per-
ceived, and cries of " Privilege," and a " A stranger in the House" instantly
arose. The Speaker sonorously called on the sergeant-at-arms to do his duty.
Dreading arrest, Burke ran toward the bar, where he was faced by the sergeant
with a drawn sword ; returning, he was stopped, at the table, by the clerk. A
chase ensued, the members all keeping their seats, and, at last, Burke escaped
behind the Speaker's chair. In the debate which ensued, the sergeant-at-arms
was blamed for not having arrested Burke at the back-door. Sir Boyle Roche
asked, with much naivete, " How could the officer stop him in the rear, while
he was catching him in the front?" and emphatically declared that "no man
could be in two places at one time — barring he was a bird!" When the
laughter at this had subsided, Norbury (then Mr. Toler) said "A few days
ago, I found an incident, like what has just now occurred, in the cross-read-
ings of the columns of a newspaper. ' Yesterday a petition was presented to
the House of Commons — it fortunately missed fire and the villain ran off.' "
This renewed the mirth, and no further notice was taken of Burke's escapade.
I give the sally, to show how near to the confines of wit was the apt readiness
of Norbury's humor. — He had his joke to the very last. His neighbor, Lord
Erne, was far advanced in years and bedridden. When his own health failed,
he heard of his friend's increased illness. " James," said he to his servant,
" go next door, and tell Lord Erne, with my compliments, that it will be a
dead-heat between us." — M

22 LORD

erate everywhere eUe, threw .off all soberness and propriety,
and became infected with the habits of the venerable manager
of the court, the moment they entered the Common Pleas.
His principal performers were Messrs. Grady, Wallace, O'Con-
nell, and Goold, who instituted a sort of rivalry in uproar, and
played against each other.

With such a judge, and such auxiliaries to co-operate with
him, some idea may be formed of the attractions which were
held out to that numerous class who have no fixed occupation,
and by whom, in the hope of laughing hunger away, the Four
Courts are frequented in Dublin. Long before Lord Norbury
took his seat, the galleries were densely filled with faces
strangely expressive of idleness, haggardness, and humor. At
about eleven his Lordship's registrar, Mr. Peter Jackson, used
to slide in with an official leer ; and a little after Lord Norbury
entered with a grotesque waddle, and, having bowed to the
Bar, cast his eyes round the court. Perceiving a full house, an
obvious expression of satisfaction pervaded his countenance ;
and if he saw any of his acquaintance of a noble family, such as
John Claudius Beresford, who had a good deal of time on his
hands, in the crowd, he ordered the tipstaff to make way for
him, and, in order, I presume, to add to the dignity of the pro-
ceedings, placed him beside himself on the bench.

While the jury were swearing, he either nodded familiarly
to most of them, occasionally observing, " A most respectable
man ;" or, if the above-mentioned celebrated member of tho
house of Curraghmore* chanced to be next him, was engaged
in so pleasant a vein of whispering, that it was conjectured,
from the heartiness of his laugh, that he must have been talk-
ing of the recreations of the Riding-house, and tli-e amusements
of 1798.t The junior counsel having opened the pleadings,
Lord Norbury generally exclaimed, " A very promising young
man! Jackson, what is that young gentleman's name?" —
"Mr. , my Lord."— " What, of the county of Cork ?— I

* Curraghmore, in the County of Waterford. is the seat of the Marquis of
Waterford, head of the Beresford family. — M.

t The Riding-house was a place in Dublin, where Beresford used to have
suspected " rehels ' flogged, with cruelty, to torture them into "loyalty." — M

DEANE GRADY. 23

knew it by his air. Sir, you are a gentleman of very Ligh
pretensions, and I protest that I have never heard the many
counts stated in a more dignified manner in all my life : I
hope I shall find you, like the paper before me, a Daily Free-
man in my court." Having despatched the junior, whom he
was sure to make the luckless, but sometimes not inappropriate
victim of his encomiums, he suffered the leading counsel to
proceed.

As he was considered to have a strong bias toward the
plaintiff, experimental attorneys brought into the Common
Pleas the very worst and most discreditable adventures in
litigation. The statement of the case, therefore, generally
disclosed some paltry ground of action, winch, however, did
not prevent his Lordship from exclaiming in the outset, "A
very important action indeed ! If you make out your facts in
evidence, Mr. Wallace, there will be serious matter for the
jury." The evidence was then produced ; and the witnesses
often consisted of wretches vomited out of stews and cellars,
whose emaciated and discolored countenances showed their
want and their depravity, Avhile their watchful and working
eyes intimated that mixture of sagacity and humor by which
the lower order of Irish attestators is distinguished. They
generally appeared in coats and breeches, the external decency
of which, as they were hired for the occasion, was ludicrously
contrasted with the ragged and filthy shirt, which Mr. Henry
Deane Grady, who was well acquainted with " the inner man"
of an Irish witness, though not without repeated injunctions to
unbutton, at last compelled them to disclose.

The cross-examinations of this gentleman were admirable
pieces of the most serviceable and dexterous extravagance.
He was the Scarron of the Bar; and few pf the most practised
and skilful of the horde of perjurers whom he was employed
to encounter, could successfully withstand the exceedingly
droll and comical scrutiny through .which he forced them to
pass. He had a sort of " Hail fellow, well met !" manner with
every varlet, which enabled him to get into his heart and core,
until he had completely turned him inside out, and excited
such a spirit of mirth, that the knave whom he was uncovering.

HORBURt.

could not help joining in the merriment 'which the detection
of his villany had produced.

Lord Norbury, however, when he saw Mr. Grady pushing
the plaintiff to extremities, used to come to his aid, anjil rally
the hroken recollections of the witness. This interposition
called the defendant's counsel into stronger action, and they
were as vigorously encountered by the counsel on the other
side. Interruption created remonstrance; remonstrance called
forth retort; retort generated sarcasm; and at length voices
were raised so loud, and the blood of the forensic combatants
was so warmed, that a general scene of confusion, to which
Lord Norbuiy most amply contributed, took place.

The uproar gradually increased till it became tremendous ;
and, to add to the tumult, a question of law, which threw
Lord Norbury's faculties into complete chaos, was thrown into
the conflict. Mr. Grady and Mr. O'Connell shouted upon one
side, Mr. Wallace and Mr. Goold upon the other, and at last,
Lord Norbury, the Avitnesses, the counsel, the parties, and the
audience, were involved in one universal riot, in which it was
difficult to determine whether the laughter of the audience, the
exclamations of the parties, the protestations of the witnesses,
the cries of the counsel, or the bellowing of Lord Norbury
predominated. At length, however, his Lordship's superiority
of lungs prevailed ; and, like jEolus in his cavern (of whom,
with his puffed cheeks and inflamed visage, he would furnish
a painter with a model), he shouted his stormy subjects into
peace. These scenes repeatedly occurred 'during the trial,
until at last both parties had closed, and a new exhibition took
place. This was Lord Norbury's monologue, commonly called
a charge.

He usually began by pronouncing the loftiest encomiums
upon the party in the action, against whom he intended to
advise the jury to give their verdict. For this the audience
were well prepared ; and accordingly, after he had stated that
the defendant was one of the most honorable men alive, and
that he knew his father, and loved him, he suddenly came,
with a most singular emphasis, which he accompanied with a
Btrange shake of his wig, to the fatal " but," which made the

TOBiT M'COEMICK. 25

audience, who were in expectation of it, burst into a fit of
laughter, while he proceeded to charge, as he almost uniformly
did, in the plaintiff's favor. He then entered more deeply, as
he said, into the case, and, flinging his judicial robe half aside,
and sometimes casting off his wig, started from his seat, and
threw off a wild harangue, in which neither law, method, noi
argument, could be discovered. It generally consisted of
narratives connected with the history of his early life, whicfc
it was impossible to associate with the subject — of jests from
-Joe Miller, mixed with jokes of his own manufacture, and of
sarcastic allusions to any of the counsel who had endeavored
to check him during the trial. He was exceedingly fond of
quotations from Milton and Shakspere, which, however out
of place, were very well delivered, an<T evinced an excellent
enunciation. At the conclusion of his charge, he made some
efforts to call the attention of the jury to any leading incident
which particularly struck him, but what he meant it was noi
very easy to conjecture; and when he sat down, the whole
performance exhibited a mind which resembled a whirlpool of
mud, in which law, facts, arguments, and evidence, were lost
in unfathomable confusion.

Some years ago, I remember, at the close of his charges a
ludicrous incident, which was a kind of practical commentary,
sometimes took place. A poor maniac, well known about the
Hall, whose name was " Toby M'Cormick," had been a suitoi
in the Common Pleas, and had lost his senses in consequence
of the loss of his cause. He regularly used to attend the court
to which he was attracted by an odd fantasy : — Toby had got it
into his head that he was Lord Norbury himself, having merged
all consciousness of his own separate being in the strong image
of his Lordship which was constantly present to his mind,
while, upon the other hand, he took Lord Norbury for " Toby
M'Cormick;" believing that they had made a swap of their
personal identities, and exchanged their existence. This
strange madman, at the end of Lord Norbury's charges, used
to cry out, with some imitation of his manner, " Find for the
plaintiff!" and though not intended as a sarcasm upon his
habits, yet it was so just a satire that Lord Norbury was half

VOL. II.— 2

2(5 LORD

displeased, and, turning to Peter Jackson, exclaimed, " Jack-
eon, turn Toby M'Cormick out of court !"

I feel that, in the portrait which I have endeavored to draw
of the late Chief-Justice of the Irish Common Pleas in presi-
ding at the Nisi-Prius sittings, I have not at all come up to my
original. But to describe him in such a way as to match the
reality, would be, perhaps, impossible. To conceive what he
was, and his stupendous extravagances, it would have been
necessary to see the "o^iov avro," and have witnessed the prodigy
itself. It is no exaggeration to say, that as the wildest farce'
upon the stage never raised more laughter than his exhibitions
from the bench, neither could any writer of dramatic drolleries,
who should undertake to draw him, embody the substantial
absurdity of his character in any fictitious representation. He
might have defied O'Keeffe himself; for although his law was
like Lingo's Latin, yet I do not think that even O'Keeffe's
genius for extravagance could have done Lord Norbury justice.

In his capacity of Judge, sitting in full court, with his three
coadjutors about him, he was almost as ludicrous as in his
more tumultuous office of jester at Nisi Prius.* I remember

* A few of Lord Norbury's jests, which are not in general currency, may be
worth mentioning here. — Sir Philip Crampton (father of the present British
Minister at Washington) was a remarkably fine-looking man, tall in stature,
erect in carriage, elegant in manner, graceful in movement. In 1824, when
George IV. visited

" The emerald set in the ring of the sea,"

Sir Philip was Surgeon-General of Ireland, which high position he retains. At
the King's Levee, he appeared in the rich military uniform of Surgeon-General.
The monarch was immediately struck with his appearance, and, turning round
to Lord Norbury, who stood by his side, rubicund and burly, asked, " Who ia
this very handsome officer?" With the merry twinkle of his eyes which
always accompanied Norbury's jokes, he answered, " May it please your Majes-
ty, he is General of the Lancers" — Lord Norbury was in Tippe.ary taking
what he used to call his health ride. One of the county gentlemen, a Mr. Pep-
per, joined him, but this deponent saith not whether he was mounted on " The
White Horse of the Peppers." His steed, however, was handsome and spir-
ited, and Norbury (who was an excellent judge — of horse-flesh) paid him some
compliments on the animal. "Has plenty of life — eh?" Mr. Pepper an-
swered, " So much, that he threw me over his head, the othei day." — " Named
him, yet ?" Mr. Pepper said that he had not. " Why, then," said the joker,
' considering who you are, and how he has served you, suppose you call him

JtTDGE MAYNE. 27

when tlie court presented, in his person, and in that of Judge
Mayne, a most amusing and laughable contrast. Never was
Rochefoucault's maxim, that " gravity is a mystery of the body
to hide the defects of the mind," more strongly exemplified
than in the solemn figure which sat for many years on Lord
Norbury's left hand, in his administration of the law. By the
profound stagnation of his calm and imperturbable visage,
which improved on Gratiano's description of a grave man, and
not more in stillness than in color resembled "a standing
pool;" by a certain shake of his head, which, moving with the
mechanical oscillation of a wooden mandarin, made him look
like the image of Confucius which is plastered on the dome of
the Four Courts ; by his long and measured sentences, which
issued in tones of oracular wisdom from his dry and ashy lips.;

Pepper-caster" — Going to a Lev6e at Dublin Caslle, with another of the judg
cs, they slipped when ascending the stairs. " Oh, my Lord," said Norbury
as he rubbed the broadest part of his person, which had been barked by the,
fall, " you and I have tried many cases in our time, but the hardest case of all
is this staircase." — In 1816, when Prince Leopold, who was only a Serene
Highness (as only the son of a King can be addressed as Royal) was about
marrying the Princess Charlotte of Wales, he was complimented by her father,
then Prince Regent of England, with the title of " Royal Highness." This
was 'spoken of before Lord Norbury, who remarked that "Marriage was the
true way of making a man lose his serenity." — A quaker named Nott opened a
large shop, exactly opposite that of Kinahan, the well-known Dublin grocer,
advertised his tea as cheaper and better than any in Ireland, and declared that
he would not vend any sugar, as it yielded no profit. The novelty of the con-
cern and the excellence and low price of Nott's tea and coffee drew many cus-
tomers to him and diminished the sales of Kinahan, his vis-a-vis neighbor.
Lord Norbury went to the Quaker's, bought fourteen pounds of tea (on which
the profit was large), and crossed over to Kinahan's, where he asked for a sup-
ply of sugar, on which the profits are or were nominal. While Kinahan wag
having the sugar weighed, Nott's porter entered the shop with the large parcel
of tea for Lord Norbury. " Leave it there, on the counter," said my Lord.
Then, turning to Kinahan who was dismayed at seeing one of his oldest and
best customers a purchaser at his rival's, .\orbury said, " I suppose, Mr. Kina-
han, that you sell a great deal of sugar — by Nott selling tea." — Some thirty-
five years ago, a lusty negro wench, who was called " The Hottentot Venus,"
was publicly exhibited in Ireland, on account of the remai-kable sije of he*
" Western Settlements." " 1 wonder," said Bushe, " whether she really was
a Queen in her own country — as she boasts." Norbury answered^ " No doubt ;
ruler, of course." — M.»

23 LORD NOKBURY.

by his slow and even gait, and his systematic and regulated
gesture, Judge Mayne had contrived, when at the bar, to
impose himself as a great lawyer on the public. When he
was made a judge, upon the day on which he for the first time
took his seat, Mr Keller, one of his contemporaries, and a
bitter wag, came into court, and seeing him enthroned in his
dignity, with his scarlet robes about him, leaned over the bar
bench, and, after musing for some time, while he stretched out
his shrewd sardonic face, muttered to himself, "Well, Mayne,
there you are !— there you have been raised by your gravity,
while my levity still sinks me here."

This pragmatical personage, who was considered deep,
while he was only dark and muddy, was fixed, as if for the
purposes of contrast, beside Lord Norbury, but so far from
diminishing the effect of his judicial drolleries, the vapid mel-
ancholy of the one brought the vivacity of his companion into
stronger light. In truth, the solemnity of Judge Mayne was :
nearly as comical as Lord Norbury's humor; and when, seeing
a man enter the court who had forgotten to uncover, Judge
Mayne rose and said, " I see you standing there like a wild
beast, with your hat on," — the pomp of utterance, and the
measured dignity with which this splendid figure in Irish
oratory was enunciated, excited nearly as much merriment as
the purposed jokes and the ostentatious merriment of the chief
of the court.

Nothing, not even Lord Norbury, could induce his brother
judge to smile. His features seemed to have some inherent
and natural incompatibility with laughter, which the Momus
of the bench could not remove. While peals rang upon peals
of merriment, and men were obliged to hold their sides, lest
they should burst with excess of ridicule, Judge Mayne stood
silent, starch, and composed, and never allowed his muscles of
rusty iron to give way in any unmeet and extra-judicial relax-
ation. This union of the Allegro and Penseroso was invalua-
ble to the seekers of fun in the Common Pleas, and it was
with regret that the merry public were informed that Judge
Mayne had been advised by his physicians to retire from the
bench and take up his residence in France, He went? I

JUDGE JOHNSON. 29

nuclei-stand, to Paris, where lie used occasionally to walk, in tlio
brilliant afternoons of that enchanting climate, in the garden
of the Tuileries, and, Scott's Quentin Durward being then in
vogue, Judge Mayne was taken for the spectre of Trois Echelles
The place of Judge Mayne was latterly supplied by a very
able man and an excellent lawyer, Mr. Justice Johnson ; and
then a scene of a different character, but still exceedingly amu-
sing, was afforded. Lord Norbury was now most unhappily
situated, for he had Judge Fletcher upon one hand and Judge
Johnson upon the other.- The former was a man of an uncom-
monly vigorous and brawny mind, with a rude but powerful
grasp of thought, and with considerable acquirements, both in
literature and in his profession. He was destitute of all ele-
gance, either mental or external, but made up for the deficiency
by the massive and robust character of his understanding. He
had been a devoted Whig at the bar, and hated Lord Norbury
for his politics, while he held his intellect in. contempt. Dis-
simulation was not among his attributes ; and, as his indifferent
health produced a great infirmity of temper (for he was the
converse of what a Frenchman defines as a happy man, and
had a bad stomach and a good heart), he was at no pains in
concealing his disrelish for his brother on the bench. Judge
Johnson, who occupied the seat on Lord Norbury 's left hand,
completed his misfortunes in juxtaposition. There is nothing
whatever about Judge Johnson to be laughel at, although his
bursts of temperament may sometimes p.revoke a smile ; but,
in adding to Lord Norbury's calamities, he augmented the di-
versions of the court. He was less habitually atrabilious
than Judge Fletcher,* whose characteristic was moroseuess

* In the rampant times of " Protestant Ascendency in Church and State,"
when the government policy was to report Ireland in a state of insurrectionary
feeling, and within a hair's-breadth of actual rebellions (so as to justify
coercive Acts of Parliament, with which to keep the people quiet), Judge
Fletcher gave immense offence to the ruling powers by his charges to Gnind
Juries, on Circuit, in which he always stated, that if they wer^ rightly governed
the Irish would be as well conducted as any people on earth. He used to tell
the country-gentlemen, too, that whenever a county, or a district, became, dis-
turbed, the great probability was that the landlords' oppressions (though middle-
men) or neglect of duty caused the evil. — M.

30 LOKD NOKBURY.

rather than irritability, but he had an honest vehemence and
impetuosity about him, which, whenever his sense of propriety
was violated, he could not restrain.

When the Chief-Justice, who was thus disastrously placed,
was giving judgment (if the olla-podrida which he served up
for the general entertainment can be so called), the spectacle
derived from the aspect of his brother-judges furnished a vast
accession of amusement. Judge Fletcher, indignant at all the
absurdity which was thrown up by Lord Norbury, and which
bespattered the bench, began expressing his disgust by the
character of bilious severity which spread over his countenance,
of which the main characteristic was a fierce sourness and a
scornful discontent. Judge Johnson, on the other hand, en-
deavored to conceal his anger, and, placing his elbows on the
bench, and thrusting his clinched hands upon his mouth, tried
to stifle the indignation, with which, however, it was obvious
that he was beginning. to tumefy. After a little while, a growl
was heard from Judge Fletcher, while Judge Johnson respond-
ed with a groan. But, undeterred by any such gentle admo-
nition, their incomparable brother, with a desperate intrepidity,
held on his way.

Judge Fletcher had a habit, when exceedingly displeased,
of rocking himself in his seat; and, as he was of a considera-
ble bulk, his swinging, which was known to be an intimation
of his augmenting anger, was familiar to the bar. As Lord
Norbury advanced, the oscillations, accompanied with a deeper
growling, described a greater segment of a circle, and shook
the whole bench ; while Judge Johnson, with his shaggy brows
bent and contracted over his face, and with his eyes flashing
with passion, used, with an occasional exclamation of mingled
indignation and disgust, to turn himself violently round. Still,
on Lord Norbury went; until at length, Judge Fletcher, by
his pendulous vibrations, came into actual collision with him
upon one side, and Judge Johnson, by his averted shrug, hit
him on the shoulder upon the other; when, awakened by the
simultaneous shock, his Lordship gave a start, and, looking
round the bar, who were roaring with laughter at the whole
proceeding, discharged two or three puffs ; and, felicitating his

AS A POLITICIAN. 31

brothers on their urbanity and good manners, in revenge for
their contumelious estimate of his talents, generally called on
the tipstaff to bring him a judicial convenience, and, turning to
the wall of the court, retaliated from the bench for the asper-
sions which they had cast upon him. From one of these two
formidable commentators he was latterly relieved, and although
Judge Johnson remained beside him, still, in the absence of
Judge Fletcher as an auxiliary, he became latterly somewhat
mitigated ; while Judge Moore, during the Chief-Justice's legal
expositions, did no more than intimate his feelings by a look of
good-natured commiseration ; and Judge Torrens* turned a
polite and fastidious smile, full of the gracefulness of the Horse-
Guards, upon his noble and learned brother.

Such was Lord Norbury as a Judge. It remains to say a
few words of him as a politician. It is almost unnecessary to
state that, with such intellectual endowments, he did not coin-
cide with Grattan, and Curran, and Plunket, and Bushe, in the
views which were taken by those inferior persons of the inter-
est of their country, but that he agreed in principle and in feel-
ing with Doctor Duigenan, Mr. Dawson, and Sir George Hill,t

* James Torrens, senior puisne judge of the Common Pleas in Ireland, is
brother to the late Sir Henry Torrens, who accompanied "The Duke" (then
Sir Arthur Wellesley), to Portugal, acted as his Military Secretary, finally (in
1820) became an Adjutant-General of the British army, was the intimate con-
fidant of the Duke of York, and died in 1828. — This relationship, backed by
his own reputation as a lawyer, obtained Mr. Torrens' advancement to the
bench.— M.

t Sir George Hill and Mr. George Robert Dawson were the Protestant
Ascendency members for the city of Londonderry. The name of the former
will be recollected, not for any merits of him who bore it, but in connection
with the arrest of Tone. In September, 1798, Tone, then holding a military
commission under the French Directory, went to make a descent upon Ireland,
with three thousand men, and a small naval force under Admired Bompert.
The expedition was met by a British squadron under Admiral Warren. A but-
tlo ensued, and, after a gallant combat of six hours' duration, the French were
defeated. Tone, who had commanded a battery -on board the Admiral's ship, was
among the captured officers. He was not recognised — perhaps some who knew
him generously avoided doing so. It was suspected that he was of the party.
Sir George Hill, his fellow-student at Trinity college, volunteered to identify
him. While the prisoners were breakfasting with the Earl of Cavan, they
were disturbed by Hill and a party of police-officers.. Stepping- up to Tone, he

32 LOED NOKBURY.

and the rest of the illustrious statesmen by whom the cause of
Ascendency has been so firmly and so appropriately supported.
Lord Norbury was an excellent and uniform Protestant, This
was always well known in Ireland, but, his buffoonery having
swollen up and concealed the other traits of his character, little
notice was taken of his personal predilections.

It was, indeed, his habit to deliver orations to the grand-
jury upon the church and state in the home circuit; and in
reference to I. K. L.* he often poured out a tirade against
"Moll Doyle," one of the wild personifications of agrarian in-
surrection in the south of Ireland; but, however indecorous
these allusions were deemed in a Chief-Justice, the people
were so much accustomed to laugh at his Lordship, that even
where there was good cause for remonstrance, they could not
be prevailed on to regard anything he did in a serious way.
As carte Uanclie is given to Grimaldi,t the public allowed Lord
Norbury an unlimited license ; and in law, politics, and religion,
never placed any restraint upon him. At length, however, an

said, " Mr. Tone, I am very happy to see you." With much composure Tone
replied that he was happy to see Sir George, and politely inquired after Lady
Hill. Tone was taken into another room, ironed, sent off to Dublin, tried by
court-martial, and sentenced to death, which he anticipated by suicide. —
George Robert Dawson, married to Sir Robert Peel's sister, held office under
the Duke of Wellington's Administration, and had long been a decided oppo-
nent of the Catholic Claims. In 1828, at a Corporation dinner, in London-
derry, he ventured to hint that it might be better to settle the Catholic ques-
tion, by fair concession, than hazard civil war by continuing to oppose it. This,
at such a meeting, was received with groans and hisses. The Orange press
denounced Dawson as a traitor— but more rational politicians felt that a Gov-
ernment official would never have uttered such words, except with some knowl-
edge of a coming change of measures, and this was confirmed by Daw son's
continuing in office. It was seen that something was in agitation, and that
Dawson's speech was a feeler. A few months after this, Catholic Emancipation
was granted. — Mr. Dawson, who is an excellent man of business, uniting talent
with industry, and conscientious principle with both, is now Deputy-Chairman
of the Commissioners of Customs, in England. — M.

* The late Dr. Doyle, Catholic Bishop of Kildare and Leighlin. — M.

t Joseph Grimaldi, born in 1779, and deceased in 1837, was noted and pop-
pular, in London, for forty years, as an unrivalled pantomimic clown at the
theatres. His biographer speaks of a " rich and (paradoxical as the term may
seem) intellectual buffoonery, peculiarly his own — portraying to the life all that
18 giotesque in manners, or droll in action." — M.

33

event occurred which awakened the general notice; and, as
there was another and a very obnoxious individual concerned,
excited among the Roman Catholics universal indignation.

Lord Norbury has been always remarkable for his frugality.
He was in the habit of stuffing papers into the old chairs in his
study, in order to supply the deficiency of horse-hair which the
incumbency of eighty years had produced in their bottoms.
At last, however, they became, even with the aid of this occa-
sional supplement, unfit for use, and were sent by his Lordship
to a shop in which old furniture was advertised to be bought
and sold. An individual of the name of Monaghan got one
of these chairs into his possession, and, finding it stuffed with
papers, drew them out. He had been a clerk in an attorney's
office, and knew Mr. Saurin's handwriting. He perceived, by
the superscription of a letter, that it was written by the Attor-
ney-General, and on opening it he found the following words
addressed to a Chief- Justice, and a going Judge of assize, by
the principal law-officer of the Crown : —

" DUBLIN CASTLE, August 9.

" I transcribe for you a very sensible part of Lord Ross's* letter to me. ' As,
Lord Norbury goes our circuit, and as he is personally acquainted with the

* Lord Ross, who advises Mr. Saurin to adopt the course which he so faith-
fully pursued, was once Sir Laurence Parsons, and was in the habit of speaking
in the Irish House of Commons in favor of emancipation. He was not only
an orator, but a poet. In the appendix to the first volume of " Wolfe Tone's
Memoirs," a poem is inserted, which would have entitled him to the place of
Laureate to the United Irishmen. The following are the opening lines : —
" How long, 0 Slavery ! shall thine iron mace
Wave o'er this isle, and crouch its abject race ?
Full many a dastard century we?ve bent
Beneath thy terrors, wretched and content.
" What though with haughty arrogance of pride
England shall o'er this long-duped country stride,
And lay on stripe on stripe, and shame on shame,
And brand to all eternity its name :
" 'Tis right, well done, bear all and'more, I say,
Nay, ten times more, and then for more still pray !
What state in something would not foremost be?
She strives for fame, thou for servility."

[The present Earl of Rosse, born in 1800, confers a lustre on the title far
greater than what he derives from it. His successful devotion to the physical

2*

34 LOED NOKBURY.

gentlemen of our county, a hint to him may be of use. He is in the habit of
talking individually to them in his chamber at Phillipstown ; and if he were to
impress on them the consequence of the measure, viz., that however they may
think otherwise, the Catholics would, in spite of them, elect Catholic member!
(if such were eligib.e), that the Catholic members would then have the nomi-
nation of sheriffs, and in many instan ->s, perhaps of the judges ; and the Protes-
tants would be put in the back-gr, and, as the Protestants were formerly ; I
think he would bring the effect of the measure home to themselves, and satisfy
them that they could scarcely submit to live in the country if it were passed.'
So far Lord Ross. But what he suggests in another part of his letter, that ' if
Protestant gentlemen, who have votes and influence and interest, would give,
these venal members to understand that if they will purchase Catholic votes by
betraying their country and its constitution, they shall infallibly lose theirs; it
would alter their conduct, though it could neither make them honest or respect-
able. If you will jud-tdously administer [.'/] a little of this medicine to the
King's County, and other members of Parliament, that may fall in your way,
you will deserve well. Many thanks for your letter, and its good intelligence
from Maryborough. Jebb is a moat valuable fellow, and of the sort that is
most wanted/ " Affectionately and truly yours,

"WILLIAM SAURIN."

When this letter was first disclosed, it was vehemently as
serted by Mr. Saurin's friends, that a man of his fame and
constitutional principles could not have written it, and they
alleged that it was a mere fabrication ; but afterward, when
the handwriting was perceived to be indisputable, and the
author of the letter did not dare to deny its authenticity, Mr.
Peel, and the other advocates of Mr. Saurin, contented them-
selves with exclaiming against the mere impropriety of its pro-
duction. From this ground of imputation they were, however,
effectually driven by Mr. Brougham,! when he called to the
Minister's recollection, and especially to that of the Secretary
of the Home Department, whom it chiefly concerned, the foul

sciences, especially to optics and astronomy, has given him high place among
the knowledge-seekers of the age. In 184.9, Lord Eosse was elected President
of the Royal Society of England. — M.

t Mr. Brougham laid a trap for Mr. Peel. The writer of this article was
M, upon good authority, that he introduced Mr. Saurin's letter into the de-
ate, in ordnr to allure Mr. Peel into a censure of the use which had been
made of it. The latter fell into the snare, and the moment he began to inveigh
against the production of the letter, Mr. Brougham, who had been intently
Ofld impatiently watching kim, slapped his knee, and cried, " J have him '"

85

mentis adopted to get at evidence against the Queen.* Since
that time we have heard no more of the violation of all good
feeling in the Catholics, when they availed themselves of a
document in the handwriting of an Attorney-General, in order
to establish the fact which had been frequently insisted on,
that poison had been poured into the highest sources of jus-
tice.

The moral indignation of Protestants has subsided, but they
have not recovered from their astonishment, that a man so
cautious and deliberate as William Saurin, should have put
himself in the power of such a person as Lord Norbury, and
intrusted him with a communication, which has eventually
proved so fatal to himself. He must have known the habits
of the man, and it is difficult to conceive how he could look
upon the alliance of so singular an individual as of importance
to his party, or regard him as likely to produce any impression
upon the grand juries to which his loyal exhortations were to
be addressed.

The discovery of this letter has been of great prejudice to
Mr. Saurin, as it renders it impossible to promote him, with
any sort of decency, after such a proceeding; but it was of
use to Lord Norbury. When his incompetence in his office
was mentioned in Parliament, the Orange faction considered

* The manner which the evidence against Queen Caroline, consort of George
IV., was got up by the British Government was illegal. The scale of pay-
ment was in a manner regulated by the extent of the evidence given ! The
more damning the testimony, the greater the reward. — There always has been
a popular belief in England (though the feet was denied, as if on authority, by
Fox, in Parliament), that George IV. was married, previous to his union with
Caroline of Brunswick, to Mrs. Fitzherbert — the lady described as " fat, fair,
and forty," when he first met her. It was on this marriage, and the subsequent
royal repudiation of the lady, that Moore wrote the Irish Melody, " When first
I Diet thee, warm and young," which Byron was fond of chanting, in his soli
tary hours at Venice, where (to use his own words) " like a hunted stag, he
had taken to the waters, and there stood at bay." — Queen Caroline had her
joke on the liaison or marriage (whichever it might be) with Mrs. Fitzherbert,
and said, in 1820, " I never was guilty of adultery but once — and that was with
Mrs. Fitzherbert' s husband !" Another of her hits was her saying, when asked,
on her return to England, where she intended to stop in London, " I think I
sna.I take a chop at the Kintfs Head." — M.

30 LORD NORBURY.

themselves bound by that principle of fidelity to each other,
by which, to do them justice, they are characterized to sup-
port a very zealous, if not a very respectable partisan ; and
accordingly Mr. Goulburn, with the effrontery which distin-
guishes him, pronounced a panegyric upon his judicial excel-
lences, and stated (to the great and just indignation of the
other judges of the Common Pleas) that in a difficult and com-
plicated case he had evinced more knowledge and astuteness
than any of them. To this encomium, Mr. Peel, with all his
manliness, and although he values himself on his reformation
of the abuses of justice, gave his sanction. Lord Norbury,
finding himself sustained by his party in the House of Com-
mons, turned a deaf ear to all private solicitations, of which
his resignation was the object.*

At length Mr. O'Connell presented a petition for his removal,
setting forth, among other grounds, that he had fallen asleep
during the trial of a murder case, and was unable to give any
account of the evidence, when called on for his notes by the
Lord Lieutenant. Mr. Scarlett,! to whom the petition was

* When it was determined to give Lord Norbury a hint that it was time to
retire, the task — which was one of delicacy, if not of peril — was confided
to William Gregory, then under-secretary for Ireland. Norbuiy got scent of
the object of his visit, and, the moment he appeared, locked the door, with a
confidential and grave air, and said, " You are one of my best and oldest friends.
I was just writing for you to come here, when I heard your voice. I am told
that I am to be insulted — that they mean to ask me to resign. The mock-
monarch in Phoenix Park is irresponsible, but the hack that he sends shall be
his proxy. I'll have his life, or he'll have mine — ay, if he were my brother
My old friend Gregory, you will stand by me ? Here are the hair-triggers."
Here he opened his pistol-case. " Here they are, as ready now as when they
blazed at Fitzgerald, and almost frightened Napper Tandy out of his skin. Stay
and dine with me, and we'll talk it over." — Peaceable Mr. Gregory declined
the invitation, but did not perform his mission. That, however, was done by
letter from Peel, who was then Home Secretary. The rest of the story, as to
the forced resignation, is exactly as Mr. Sheil tells it. Norbury made good
terms — two steps in the peerage (he was raised from the dignity of Baron to
that of Viscount and Earl), and a pension of four thousand pounds a year. — M.

t James Scarlett, afterward Lord Abinger, was more distinguished as an ad-
vocate than a judge. Born in Jamaica, in 1769 (his brother was Chief-Justice
of the island), Mr. Scarlett was called to the English Bar, in 1791, closely
and patiently studied the law (chiefly making himself acquainted with the mod-

rfis ENFORCED RESIGNATION. 3?

intrusted, did not move upon it, in consequence of a personal
assurance from Mr. Peel, that he would do everything in his
power to induce him, of his own accord, to retire. For although
Mr. Peel ostensibly defended him as a friend and partisan,
yet he was, in reality, ashamed of such an incubus upon the
bench. Lord Norbury at last went so far as to intimate that
he would consult his friends on the subject, and required a
reasonable time to do so, which was accordingly granted.
After the lapse of a month, Mr. Goulburn called again to know
the result of his deliberations, when his lordship stated that
Lord Oombermere was his most particular friend, and that he
had written to him at Calcutta. Mr. Goulburn, rinding himself
thus evaded, and being conscious that he was as well qualified
at eighty-six as he had ever been (for no increased hallucina-
tion is perceptible about him), was a good deal at a loss what
to do. But suddenly Mr. Canning became lord of the ascen-
dant ; and Lord Norbury, who never wanted sagacity, feeling
that jinder the new system he could not expect the support of
ministers, wisely came into terms ; and having stipulated for
an earldom, as a consideration, resigned in favor of Lord Plun-

ern reports), chose the northern circuit, and became distinguished, almost from
starting, for his knowledge of law and his dexterous examination of witnesses.
In 1816, he was made King's Counsel, and entered Parliament, as a Whig, in
1818. He was not a good debater and did not shine as a senator. His votes
were on the liberal side, and he supported the attempts of Romilly and Macin
tosh to ameliorate the Draconian severity of the criminal code. Under Can-
ning's administration, in 1827, Mr. Scarlett was made Solicitor-General and
knighted. He retained office under the Wellington Cabinet — changing his
political opinions, much to the damage of his popularity. When Catholic
Emancipation was granted, in 1829, he succeeded to the office of Attorney-
General, vacated by Sir Charles Wetherell, who was hostile to the measure,
and earned additional unpopularity by a crusade against the press. For !his,
he was introduced into Bulwer's Paul Clifford, as " Scarlett Jem, good at a
press." When his old friends, the Whigs, came into office in 1830, they cash-
iered their quondam ally. But, in 1834, under Peel's premiership, Sir James
Scarlett was made Chief-Baron of the Exchequer, and raised to the peerage.
Latterly, ill health made his temper irritable. He had to preside, in 1841, at
the trial of certain Chartists charged with sedition, and exhibited such an angry
partisan feeling against them as to cause much public disapprobation, and seme
parliamentary censure. He died, in 1844, in his seventy-fifth year. — M.

3S loBb

ket, who, like an unskilful aeronaut, has made a bad descent
into the Common Pleas.*

Thus had this man, without talent, or knowledge or any-
thing to recommend him, beyond his personal and animal
spirit, to the favor of government, raised himself to a high
station on the bench, which he enjoyed for seven-and-twenty
years ; and now, laden with wealth, effects his retreat through a
loftier grade in the peerage. He has accumulated an immense
fortune, partly from the lucrative offices of which he was so
long in the enjoyment, and partly through his rigid economy.
I ought not, however, to omit that, parsimonious as his habits
are, still they do not prevent him from exercising the best kind
of chanty, for he is an excellent landlord. In his dealings
with his inferiors, too (I gladly avail myself of the opportunity
of bestowing on him such praise as he deserves), he is kind
and 'considerate; and toward his domestics is a gentle and
forbearing master. In his deportment to the Bar, too, he was
undeviatingly polite, and never forgot that he was himself a
member of the profession, on which the recollection of every
judge should forbid him to trample. In private society, he is
a most agreeable, although a very grotesque companion.

He is not wholly destitute of literature; having a great

* John Toler, who died Earl and Baron Norbury and Viscount Glandine
(having also obtained a distinct peerage for his wife), was born in 1745, and
was the son of a country gentleman in Tipperary. He was called to the Irish
bar in 1770; entered Parliament in 1776 ; obtained a silk gown in 1781 ; was
made Solicitor-General in 1789 ; succeeded Wolfe as Attorney-General, in 1798,
was made Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas in 1800, being created Baron
Norbury; retired in 1827, bargaining for two steps in the peerage, and a pen-
sion of four thousand pounds sterling a year; and died in July, 1831, aged
eighty-six. Peihaps no one ever wore the ermine so wholly unqualified for its
dignity and responsibility, as Lord Norbury. So cruel, that he was called " the
hanging judge ;" so indecorous, that he would jest, even at the expense of the
wretch he was dooming to the gallows ; so callous, that public reprobation never
galled him; so partial, that power, however unjust, might count upon his
assistance ; so bad a lawyer, that the merest tyro in the profession had often to
set him right. Truly was it said, when he died, " Mercy droops not beside
his tomb ; nor will justice, eloquence, or learning, stretch themselves within it."
In a word, among bad men, at a time when oppression and injustice prevailed,
one of the very worst was tlm wicked judge, Lord Norbuiy. — M.

ms ir&HAHt. 39

memory, lie is fohcl of repeating passages from tlie older poets,
which he recites with propriety and force. Of modern authors
he is wholly ignorant, nor is a new book to be found in his
library. His study presents, indeed, a curious spectacle. In
the centre of the room lies a heap of old papers, covered with
dust, mingled with political pamphlets, written some forty
years ago, together with an odd volume of the "Irish Parlia-
mentary Debates," recording the speeches of Mr. Sergeant
Toler. On the shelves, which are half empty, and exhibit a
most "beggarly account," there are some forty moth-eaten law-
books ; and by their side appear odd volumes of "Peregrine
Pickle," and "Roderick Random," with the "Newgate Calen-
dar," complete. A couple of wornout saddles, with rusty stir-
rups, hang from the top of one of the bookcases, which are
enveloped with cobwebs ; and a long line of veteran boots
of mouldy leather are arrayed on the opposite side of the
room. King William's picture stands over the chimney-piece,
with prints of Eclipse and other celebrated racers, from which
his lordship's politics, and other predilections, may be col-
lected.

He was a remarkably good horseman, and even now always
appears well mounted in the streets. A servant, dressed in
an ancient livery, rides close beside him ; and by his very
proximity and care, assists a certain association with loneli-
ness which has begun to attend him. He has, in truth, assumed
of late a very dreary and desolate aspect. When he rod^
to court, as he did every day while a judge, he exhibited, for
his time of life, great alacrity and spirit; and as he passed by
Mr. Joy, whom he looked upon as his probable successor, put-
ting spurs to his horse, he cantered rapidly along. But IIOAV
he is without occupation or pursuit, and looks alone in the
world. His gayety is gone, and when he stops an old ac-
quaintance in the street to inquire how the world wags, his
voice and manner exhibit a certain wandering and oblivion,
while his face seems at once dull, melancholy, and abstracted.

Sometimes he rides beyond Dublin, and is to be met in
lonely and unfrequented roads, looking as if he was musing
over mournful recollections, or approaching to a suspension of

40 LORD NORBTJRt.

all thought. Not many days ago, on my return to town from
a short excursion in the country, as the evening drew on, I
saw him riding near a cemetery, while the chill breezes of
October were beginning to grow bitter, arid the leaves were
falling rapidly from the old and withered trees in the adjoin-
ing churchyard. The wind had an additional bleakness as it
blew over the residences of the dead ; and although it im-
parted to his red and manly cheeks a stronger flush, still, as it
stirred his gray locks, it seemed with its wintry murmurs to
whisper to the old man a funeral admonition. He appeared,
as he urged on his horse and tried to hurry from so dismal a
scene, to shrink and huddle himself from the blast. In anti-
cipation of an event, which can not be remote (while I forgot
all his political errors, and only remembered how often he had
beguiled a tedious hour, and set the Four Courts in a roar), I
could not help muttering, as I passed him, with some feeling
of regret, " Alas, poor Yorick !"

CLONMEL ASSIZES.

THE delineation of the leading members of the Irish bar is
not the only object of these sketches. It is my purpose to
describe the striking scenes, and to record the remarkable in-
cidents, which fall within my own forensic observation. That
these incidents and scenes should take place in our courts of
justice, affords a sufficient justification for making the " Sketches
of the Irish Bar" the medium of their narration. I might also
suggest that the character of the bar itself is more or less influ-
enced by the nature of the business in which it is engaged.
The mind of any man who habitually attends the assizes of
Clonmel carries deep, and not perhaps the most useful, impres-
sions away from it. How often have I reproached myself with
having joined in the boisterous merriment which either the
jests of counsel or the droll perjuries of the witnesses have
produced during the trial of a capital offence ! How often
have I seen the bench, the jury, the bar, and the galleries, of
an Irish court of justice, in a roar of tumultuous laughter, while
I beheld in the dock the wild and haggard face of a wretch
who, placed on the verge of eternity, seemed to be surveying
the gulf on the brink of which he stood, and presented, in his
ghastly aspect and motionless -demeanor, a reproof of the spirit
of hilarity with which he was to be sent before his God !

It is not that there is any kind of cruelty intermixed with
this tendency to mirth ; but that the perpetual recurrence of V
incidents of the most awful character divests them of the power (A
of producing effect, and that they —

" Whose fell of hair

Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
As life uere in't" —

42 CtONMEL ASSIZES.

acquire such a familiarity with direness, that they become not
only insensible to the dreadful nature of the spectacles which
are presented, but scarcely conscious of them. But it is not
merely because the bar itself is under the operation of the inci-
dents which furnish the materials of their professional occupa-
tion that I have selected the last assizes at Clonmel as the
subject of this article. The extensive circulation of this peri-
odical work affords the opportunity of putting the English pub-
lic in possession of many illustrative facts; and in narrating
the events which attended the murder of Daniel Mara, and the
trial of his assassins, I propose to myself the useful end of fix-
ing the general attention upon a state of things which ought
to lead all wise and good men to the consideration of the only
effectual means by which the evils which result from the moral
condition of the country may be remedied.*

In the month of April, 1827, a gentleman of the name of
Chadwick was murdered in the open day, at a place called
Rath Cannon, in the immediate vicinity of the old Abbey of
Holycross. Mr. Chadwick was the member of an influential
family, and was employed as land-agent in collecting their
rents. The person who fills this office in England is called
" a steward ;" but in Ireland it is designated by the more hon-
orable name of a land-agency. The discharge of the duties
of this situation must be always more or less obnoxious. In
times of public distress, the landlord, who is himself urged by
his own creditors, urges his agent on, and the latter inflicts
upon the tenants the necessities of his employer.

I have heard that Mr. Chadwick was not peculiarly rigorous
in the exaction of rent, but he was singularly injudicious in
his demeanor toward the lower orders. He believed that they
detested him ; and, possessing personal courage, bade them
defiance. He was not a man of a bad heart ; but was despotic
and contumelious in his manners to those whose hatred he re-
turned with contempt. It is said that he used to stand among
a body of the peasantry, and, observing that his corpulency
was on the increase, was accustomed to exclaim, " I think I
am fattening upon your curses !" In answer to these taunts
* This sb otch was published in July, 1828.— M.

MUEDEB OF MR. CHADWICK. 43

the peasants who surrounded him, and who were well habitu-
ated to the concealment of their fierce and terrible passions,
affected to laugh, and said that " his honor was mighty pleas-
ant; and sure his honor, God bless him, was always fond of
his joke!" But while they indulged in the sycophancy under
which they are wont to smother their sanguinary detestations,
they were lying in wait for the occasion of revenge. Perhaps,
however, they would not have proceeded to the extremities to
which they had recourse, but for a determination evinced by
Mr. Chadwick to take effectual means for keeping them in awe
He set about building a police-barrack at Rath Cannon. It
was resolved that Mr. Chadwick should die.

This decision was not the result of individual vengeance.
The wide confederacy into which the lower orders are organ
ized in Tipperary held council upon him, and the village are-
opagus pronounced his sentence. It remained to find an exe-
cutioner.

Patrick Grace, who was almost a boy, but was distinguished
by various feats of guilty courage, offered himself as a volun-
teer in what was regarded by him as an honorable cause. He
had set up in the county as a sort of knight-errant against
landlords ; and, in the spirit of a barbarous chivalry, proffered
his gratuitous services wherever what he conceived to be a
wrong was to be redressed. He proceeded to Rath Cannon ;
and, without adopting any sort of precaution, and while the
public road was traversed by numerous passengers, in the broad
daylight, and just beside the barrack, in the construction of
which Mr. Chadwick was engaged, shot that unfortunate gen-
tleman, who fell instantly dead.

This dreadful crime produced a great sensation, not only in
tho county where it was perpetrated, but through the whole of
Ireland: When it was announced in Dublin, it created a sort
of dismay, as it evinced the spirit of atrocious intrepidity to
which the peasantry had been roused. It was justly accounted,
by those who looked upon this saVage assassination with most
horror, as furnishing evidence of the moral condition of the
people, and as intimating the consequences which might be
anticipated from the ferocity of the peasantry, if ever they

44 CLONMEL ASSIZES.

should be let loose. Patrick Grace calculated *n impunity;
but his confidence in the power and terrors of the confederacy
with which he was associated was mistaken. A brave, and a
religious man, whose name was Philip Mara, was present at
the murder. He was standing beside his employer, Mr. Chad-
wick, and saw Grace put him deliberately to death. Grace
was well aware that Mara had seen him, but did not believe
that he would dare to give evidence against him. It is proba-
ble, too, that he conjectured that Mara coincided with him in
his ethics of assassination, and applauded the proceeding.
Mara, however, who was a moral and virtuous man, was horror-
struck by what he had beheld; and, under the influence of
conscientious feelings, gave immediate information to a magis-
trate. Patrick Grace was arrested, and tried at the summer
assizes of 1827.

I was not present at his trial, but have heard from good au-
thority that he displayed a fearless demeanor; and that when
he was convicted upon the evidence of Philip Mara, he de-
clared that before a year should go by he should have ven-
geance in the grave. He was ordered to be executed near the
spot where his misdeed had been perpetrated. This was a
signal mistake, and produced an effect exactly the reverse of
what was contemplated. The lower orders looked upon him
as a martyr; and his deportment, personal beauty, and un-
daunted courage, rendered him an object of deep interest and
sympathy upon the scaffold. He was attended by a body of
troops to the old Abbey of Holycross, where not less than
fifteen thousand people assembled to behold him.

The site of the execution rendered the spectacle a most stri-
king one. The Abbey of Holycross is the finest and most ven-
erable monastic ruin in Ireland. Most travellers turn from
their way to survey it, and leave it with a deep impression of
its solemnity and grandeur. A vast multitude was assembled
round the scaffold. The prisoner was brought forward in the
midst of the profound silence of the people. He ascended and
surveyed them ; and looked upon the ruins of the edifice which
had once been dedicated to the worship of his religion, and to
the sepulchres of the dead which were strewed among its aisles.

EXECUTION OF PATRICK GRACE. 45

and had been for ages as he was in a few minutes about to be.
It was not known whether he would call for vengeance from
his survivors, or for mercy from Heaven. His kindred, his
close friends, his early companions, all that he loved, and all
to whom -he was dear, were around him, and nothing, except
a universal sob from his female relatives, disturbed the awful
taciturnity that prevailed. At the side of Patrick Grace stood
the priest — the mild admonitor of the heart, the soother of
affliction, and the preceptor of forgiveness — who attended him
in the last office of humanity, and who proved by the result
how well he had performed it.

To the disappointment of the people, Patrick Grace ex-
pressed himself profoundly contrite; and, although he evinced
no fear of death, at the instance of the Roman Catholic clergy-
man who attended him, implored the people to take warning
by his example. In a few moments after, he left existence.
But the effect of his execution will be estimated by this re-
markable incident. His gloves were handed by one of his
relations to an old man of the name of John Russel, as a keep-
sake. Russel drew them on, and declared at the same time
that he should wear them " till Paddy Grace was revenged ;"
and revenged he soon afterward was, within the time which
he had himself prescribed for retribution, and in a manner
which is as much calculated to excite astonishment at the
strangeness, as detestation for the atrocity of the crime, of
which I proceed to narrate the details.

Philip Mara was removed by Government from the country.
It was perfectly obvious that, if he had continued to sojourn in
Tipperary, his life would have been taken speedily, and at all
hazards, away. It was decided that all his kindred should be
exterminated. He had three brothers ; and the bare consan-
guinity with a traitor (for his crime was treason) was regarded
as a sufficient offence to justify their immolation. If they
could not procure his own blood for the purposes of sacrifice,
it was however something to make libation of that which
flowed from the same source. The crimes of the Irish are d
rived from the same origin as their virtues. They have pow-
erful domestic attachments. Their love and devotion to tliei

46 OLONMEL ASSIZES.

kindred instinct them in the worst expedients of atrocity.
Knowing the affection which Mara had for his brothers, they
found the way to his heart in the kindest instincts of humani-
ty ; and, from the consciousness of the pain which the murder
of " his mother's children" would inflict, determined that he
should endure it.

It must be owned that there is a dreadful policy in this sys-
tem. The Government may withdraw their witnesses from the
country, and afford them protection ; but their wives, their off-
spring, their parents, their brothers, sisters, nay their remotest
relatives, can not be secure, and the vengeance of the ferocious
peasantry, if defrauded of its more immediate and natural
object, will satiate itself with some other victim. It was in
conformity with these atrocious principles of revenge that the
murder of the brothers of Philip Mara was resolved upon.
Strange to tell, the whole body of the peasantry in the neigh-
borhood of Rath Cannon, and far beyond it, entered into a
league, for the perpetration of this abominable crime; and
while the individuals who were marked out for massacre were
unconscious of what was going forward, scarcely a man, woman,
or child, looked them in the face who did not know that they
were marked out for death.

They were masons by trade, and were employed in building
the barrack at Rath Cannon, on the spot where Chadwick had
been assassinated, and where the funeral of Patrick Grace (for
so his execution was called) had been performed. The peas-
antry looked in all probability with an evil eye upon every
man who had put his hand to this obnoxious work ; but their
main object was the extermination of Philip Mara's brothers.
They were three in number — Daniel, Laurence, and Timothy.
On the first of October they were at work, with an apprentice
in the mason trade, at the barrack at Rath Cannon. The name
of this apprentice was Hickey. In the evening, about five
o'clock, they left off their work, and were returning homeward,
when eight men with arms rushed upon them. They were
fired at ; but the firearms of the assassins were in such bad con-
dition, that the discharge of their rude musketry had no effect.
Laurence, Timothy, and the apprentice, fled in different direc-

MUEDER OF DANIEL MAKA 47

tions, and escaped. Daniel Mara lost his presence of mind,
and instead of taking the same route as the others, ran into the
house of a poor widow. He was pursued by the murderers,
one of whom got in by a small window, while the others burst
through the door, and with circumstances of great savageness
put him to death.

The intelligence of this event produced a still greater sen-
eation than the murder of Chad wick ; and was as much the
subject of comment as some great political incident, fraught
with national consequences, in the metropolis. The Govern-
ment lost no time in issuing proclamations, offering a reward
of two thousand pounds sterling for information which should
bring the assassins to justice. The magnitude of the sum in-
duced the hope that its temptation would be found irresistible
to poverty and destitution so great as that which prevails
among the class of ordinary malefactors. It was well known
that hundreds had cognizance of the offence ; and it was con-
cluded that, among so numerous a body, the tender of so large
a reward could not fail to offer an effectual allurement. Weeks,
however, passed over without the communication of intelligence
of any kind. Several persons were arrested on suspicion, but
were afterward discharged, as no more than mere conjecture
could be adduced against them.

Mr. Doherty, the Solicitor-General, proceeded to the county
of Tipperary, in order to investigate the transaction; but for a
considerable time all his scrutiny was without avail. At length,
however, an individual of the name of Thomas Fitzgerald was
committed to jail upon a charge of highway robbery, and, in
order to save his life, furnished evidence upon which the Gov-
ernment was enabled to pierce into the mysteries of delin-
quency. The moment Fitzgerald unsealed his lips, a numer-
ous horde of malefactors were taken up, and further reveal-
ments were made under the influence which the love of life,
and not of money, exercised aver their minds. The assizes
came on; and on Monday, the 31st of March [1828J, Patrick
Lacy and John Walsh were placed at the bar, and to the in-
dictment for the murder of Daniel Mara pleaded not guilty.

The ^ourt presented a very imposing spectacle. The whole

vm*x \^ : *

48 CLONMEL ASSIZES.

body of the gentry of Tipperary were assembled in order to
witness a trial on which the security of life and property was
to depend. The box which is devoted to the grand-jury was
thronged with the aristocracy of the county, who manifested
an anxiety far stronger than the trial of an ordinary culprit is
accustomed to produce. An immense crowd of the peasantry
was gathered round the dock. All appeared to feel a deep
interest in what was to take place, but it was easy to perceive
in the diversity of solicitude which was expressed upon their
faces, the degrees of sympathy which connected them with the
prisoners at the bar. The more immediate kindred of the mal-
efactors were distinguishable, by their profound but still emo-
tion, from those who were engaged in the same extensive or-
ganization, and were actuated by a selfish sense that their per-
sonal interests were at stake, without having their more tender
affections involved in the result.

But besides the relatives and confederates of the prisoners,
there was a third class among the spectators, in which another
shade of sympathy was observable. These were the mass of
the peasantry, who had no direct concern with the transaction,
but whose principles and habits made them well-wishers to the
men who had put their lives in peril for what was regarded as
the common cause. Through the crowd were dispersed a num-
ber of policemen, whose green regimentals, high caps, and glit-
tering bayonets, made them conspicuous, and brought them
into contrast with the peasants by whom they were surrounded.
On the table stood the governor of the jail, with his ponderous
keys, which designated his office, and presented to the mind
associations which aided the effect of the scene.

Mr. Justice Moore appeared in his red robes lined with black,
and intimated by his aspect that he anticipated the discharge
of a dreadful duty. Beside him was placed the Earl of Kings-
ton,* who had come from the neighboring county of Cork to

* Mr. Shell's description of the late Earl of Kingston is veiy accurate, but
words can not paint the brutality of this man's appearance. When I was a
lad, I often saw him, as he was Chairman of the Magistrates at the Sessions,
in Fermoy, where I was educated — one schoolmate being Francis Hincks,
pow of Canada, and the schoolmaster being Pr. Hincks, his father. The {Jan

THE EARL OF KINGSTON. 49

witness the trial, ind whose great possessions gave him a pe-
culiar concern in tracing to their sources the disturbances which
had already a formidable character, and intimated still more

of Kingston was an immense man, bulky and burly, with his features almost
hidden in a mass of dark whiskers, and his deep-set eyes glaring beneath
shaggy, black eyebrows, and a forehead "villanous low." His voice, that
all might be en suite, was at once deep and loud. I never saw a man who had
a more brutal appearance. He took large quantities of snuff, which he carried
loose in a waistcoat-pocket lined with tin, and his method was to take small
haiulfuls of it, throw part of it up into his immense nostrils, and fling away the
remainder over his left shoulder — the consequence of which was, that nobody
who knew him would sit upon that side. When he was a young man, he hold
a commission in the North Cork Militia — a corps of Orangemen, who commit-
ted fearful barbarities in the fatal 1798, and used to amuse themselves, when
they did shoot or bayonet a suspected " rebel," with setting fire to his house,
filling a brown paper cone with hot pitch, thrusting it upon his shorn head, and
enjoying the " fun" of seeing him writhe under the torture, and laughing at
him as the hot fluid ran down his face and breast. The " rebels" made a
prisoner of Lord Kingston, and his life was very much in danger — for he was
well known, and much hated. They employed him, however, to make terms
for them with the Royalists, and he was allowed to depart, on his solemn prom-
ise to perform their wish. The moment he reached his friends, he made use
of the information as to the strength of the " rebels," which he had picked up,
while a captive, utterly betrayed the trust reposed in him, and broke his
plighted word of honor, by setting on his soldiers to massacre the trusting foe.
The populace, who recollected this, constantly predicted a violent death to this
man brute. They rejoiced when the news reached them, in October, 1839,
that the Earl of Kingston, after some years' dreadful sufferings, had miserably
died, in London, of morbus pediculosus — the dreadful disease by which King
Herod perished in his pride. He erected the Castle of Mitchelstown 'as a
residence ; and I recollect that the men, who quarried the limestone of which
it is built, were paid only eight cents a day for twelve hours' work. A very
different man was his eldest son, the Viscount Kingsborough, author of that
magnificent work, " The Antiquities of Mexico." Born in 1795, he represent-
ed his native county (Cork), in the Parliament of 1820-'26. Thenceforth, he
devoted himself to literary and antiquarian researches. In 1831, was published
his great work on Mexico, in six foXo volumes, got up at a cost of many thou-
sand pounds. The illustrations consisted of fac-simile engravings from draw-
ings and MSS., in the royal libraries of Paris, Dresden, and Berlin ; the
imperial library of Vienr.a; the library of the Vatican ; the Borgean Museum;
the library of the Institute at Bologna ; the collections of Laud and Selden in
the Bodleian, at Oxford. Four copies of this work — the largest ever pub-
lished by an author, on his own account — were printed upon vellum ; of these
he presented one to the Bodleian library, and another to the British Museum.
The price of an ordinary copy was a hundred and eighty guineas. The wprff

50 CLONMEL ASSIZES.

terrible results. His dark and massive countenance, with a
shaggy and wild profusion of hair, his bold, imperious lip, and
large and deeply-set eye, and his huge and vigorous frame,
rendered him a remarkable object, without reference to his
high rank and station, and to the political part which he had
played in circumstances of which it is not impossible that he
may witness, although he should desire to avert, the return.

The prisoners at the bar stood composed and firm. Lacy,
the youngest, was dressed with extreme care and neatness.
He was a tall, handsome young man, with a soft and healthful
color, and a bright and tranquil eye. I was struck by the un-
usual whiteness of his hands, which were loosely attached to
each other. Walsh, his fellow-prisoner and his brother in
crime, Avas a stout, short, and square-built man, with a sturdy
look, in which there was more fierceness than in Lacy's coun-
tenance ; yet the latter was a far more guilty malefactor, and
had been engaged in nurherous achievements of the same kind,
whereas Walsh bore an excellent reputation, and obtained
from his landlord, Mr. Creagh, the highest testimony to his
character.

The Solicitor-General, Mr. Doherty, rose to state the case.
He appeared more deeply impressed than I have ever seen
any public officer, with the responsibility which had devolved
upon him; and, by his solemn and emphatic manner, rendered
a narration, which was pregnant with awful facts, so impres-
sive, that, during a speech of several hours' continuance, he
kept attention upon the watch, and scarcely a noise was heard,
except when some piece of evidence was announced which sur-
prised the prisoners, and made them give a slight start, in
which their astonishment and alarm at the extent of the infor-
mation of the Government were expressed.*

can not be obtained now, it is so scarce, but a copy is in the Astor Library, New
York. — Viscount Kingsborough was unfortunately induced to become security
for debts incurred by his father, and that worthy actually allowed him to be-
come an inmate of the Sheriff's Prison, in Dublin, where he died, of typhus
fever, on the 27th of February, 1837, aged forty-two. — M.

* The speech of Mr. Doherty was highly eloquent. He took occasion to
describe the general condition of the county in language equally simple, pow-
prful and true. To the causes of that condition he did not adve r, for it did

TttE MIJKDER OF DANIEL MARA. 51

They preserved their composure while Mr. Doherty was de-
tailing the evidence of Fitzgerald, for they well knew that he
had become what is technically called "a stag," and turned
informer. Neither were they greatly moved at learning that
another traitor of the name of Ryan was to he produced, for
rumors had gone abroad that he was to corroborate Fitzgerald.
They were well aware that the jury would require more evi-
dence than the coincidence of swearing between two accom-
plices could supply. It is, indeed, held that one accomplice
can sustain another for the purposes of conviction, and that
their concurrence is sufficient to warrant a verdict of guilty;
still juries are in the habit of demanding some better founda-
tion for their findings, and, before they take life away, exact a
confirmation from some pure and unquestionable source.

The counsel for the prisoners participated with them in the
belief that the Crown would not be able to produce any wit-
nesses except accomplices, and listened, therefore, to the de-
tails of the murder of Daniel Mara, however minute, without
much apprehension for their clients, until Mr. Doherty, turning
toAvard the dock, and lifting up arid shaking his hand, pro-
nounced the name of " Kate Costello." It smote the prisoners
with dismay ! At the time, however, that Mr. Doherty made

not fall within his official province to do so ; but he has since, in the House of
Commons, pointed out what he conceived to be the real sources of these de-
plorable evils. I regret that Mr. Doherty did not take the pains to publish hig
speeches at Clonmel. Justice has not been done to the diction in the newspapers
in which they were reported. The publication of those speeches in an authentic
form would not only evince the talents of the able advocate by whom they were
delivered, but would also have the effect of showing, in a striking view, the
unfairness of not -allowing the counsel for the prison"- 8 to speak, while the
Crown enlists all the power of rhetoric against them. The fa.ilt is not with
Mr. Doherty, but in the system. " Aperi os tuum muto, et vindica inopem," is
written in golden letters in the Court. The law, instead of vindicating the
poor man, shuts his counsel's mouth. I have seen many cases where a pow-
erful speech might have saved a prisoner's life. A good appeal to the Juiy
would have preserved two of the men who were convicted of the murder of
Barry, at Clonmel. It is said that Judges would not have time to go through
the trials, if counsel for the prisoners were allowed to speak. In other wordsj
they would be delayed from their vacation villas upon circuit. What an excuse
[The law has been changed since this was written, and counsel are allowed to
all prisoners. — M."J

ASSIZES.

this announcement, he was himself uncertain, I believe, whether
Kate Oostello would consent to give the necessary evidence;
and there was reason to calculate upon her reluctance to make
any disclosure hy which the lives of " her people," as the lower
orders call their kindred, should be affected.

The statement of Mr. Doherty, which was afterward fully
made out in proof, showed that a wide conspiracy had been
framed in order to murder Philip Mara's brothers. Fitzgerald
and Lacy, who did not reside in the neighborhood of Rath
Cannon, were sent for by the relatives of Patrick Grace, as it
was well known that they were ready for the undertaking of
" the job." They received their instructions, and were joined
by other assassins. The band proceeded to Rath Cannon, in
order to execute their purpose, but an accident prevented their
victims from coming to the place where they were expected,
and the assassination was, in consequence, adjourned for an-
other week. In the interval, however, they did not relent;
but, on the contrary, a new supply of murderers was collected,
and on Sunday, the 30th day of September [1828], the day pre-
ceding the murder, they inet again in the house of a farmer, of
the name of Jack Keogh, who lived beside the barrack where
the Maras were at work. Here they were attended by Kate
Costello, the fatal witness, by whom their destiny was to be
sealed.

On the morning of Monday, the 1st of October, they pro-
ceeded to an elevation called " The Grove," a hill covered
with trees, in which arms had been deposited. This hill over-
looked the barrack where the Maras were at work. A party
of conspirators joined the chief assassins on this spot, and Kate
Costello, a servant and near relative of the Keoghs (who were
engaged in the murder), again attended them. She brought
them food and spirits. From this ambush they remained watch-
ing their prey until five o'clock in the afternoon, when it was
announced that the Maras were coming down from the scaf-
folding on which they were raising the barrack. It appeared
that some murderers did not know the persons whose lives
they were to take away, and that their dress was mentioned
as the means of recognition. They advanced to the number

MURDER ox DANIEL MARA. £3

of eight, and, as I have already intimated, succeeded in slay-
ing one only of the three brothers.

But the most illustrative, incident in the whole transaction
was not what took place at the murder, but a circumstance
which immediately succeeded it. The assassins, with thesr
hands red with the gore of man, proceeded to the house cf r
farmer in good circumstances, whose name was John Russel
He was a man of a decent aspect and demeanor, above the
lower class of peasants in station and habits, was not destitute
of education, spoke and reasoned well, and was accounted very
orderly and well conducted. One would suppose that he
would have closed his doors against the wretches who were
still reeking with their crime. He gave them welcome, ten-
dered them his hospitality, and provided them with food. In
the room where they were received by this hoary delinquent,
there were two individuals of a very different character and
aspect from each other. The one was a girl, Mary Russel, the
daughter of old Jack Russel, the proprietor of the house. She
was young, and of an exceedingly interesting appearance ; her
manners were greatly superior to persons of her class, and she
was delicate- and gentle in her habitual conduct and demeanor.
Near her there sat an old woman, in the most advanced stage
of life, who was a kind of Elspeth among them, and from her
age and relationship was an object of respect and regard. The
moment the assassins entered, Mary Russel rushed up to them,
and, with a vehement earnestness, exclaimed, " Did yon do any
good ?" They stated in reply that one of the Maras was shot ;
when Peg Russel (the withered hag), who sat moping in the
revery of old age, till her attention was aroused by the sangui-
nary intelligence, lifted her shrivelled hand, and cried out with
a shrill and vehement bitterness, " You might as well not have
killed any, since you did not kill them all!"

Strange and dreadful condition of Ireland ! The witness to
a murder denounces it. He flies the country. His brothers,
for his crime, are doomed to die. The \vhole population con-
federate in their death. For weeks the conspiracy is planned,
and no relenting spirit interposes in their slaughterous deliber-
ations. The appointed day arrives, and the murder of an inno-

54 CLONMEL ASSIZES.

cent man is effected, while the light is still shining, and witli
the eye of man, which is as little feared as that of God, upon
them. The murderers leave the spot where their fellow-crea
ture lies weltering; and, instead of being regarded as objects
of execration and of horror, are chid by women for their re-
missness in the work of death, and for the scantiness of the
blood which they had poured out! Thus it is that in this
unfortunate country not only men are made barbarous, but
women are unsexed, and filled —

" from the crown to the toe, top-full

Of direst cruelty !"

These were the facts which Mr. Doherty stated, and they
were established by the evidence. The first witness was Fitz-
gerald. When he was called, he did not appear on the instant,
for he was kept in a room adjoining the Court, in order that
de might not avail himself of the statement, and fit his evidence
to it. His testimony was of such importance, and it was known
that so much depended upon it, that his arrival was waited for
with strong expectation ; and, in the interval before his appear-
ance on the table, the mind had leisure to form some conjec-
tural picture of what he in all likelihood was. I imagined
that he must be some fierce-looking, savage wretch, with base-
ness and perfidy, intermingled with atrocity, in his brow, and
whose meanness would bespeak the informer, as his ferocity
would proclaim the assassin. I was deceived.

His coming was announced — way was made for him — and
I saw leap upon the table, with an air of easy indifference and
manly familiarity, a tall, athletic young man, about two or
three and twenty, with a countenance as intelligent in expres-
sion and symmetrical in feature, as his limbs were vigorous
and w ell-proportioned. His head was perfectly shaped, and
surmounted a neck of singular strength and breadth, which
lay open and rose out of a chest of unusual massiveness and
dilation. His eyes were of deep and brilliant black, full of
fire and energy, intermixed with an expression of slyness and
sagacity. They had a peculiarly-watchful look, and indicated
a vehemence of character, checked and tempered by a cautious

MttB±>EE OF DANIEL MAftA. 55

and observant spirit. The nose was well formed and deeply
rooted, but rose at the end with some suddenness, which took
off* from the dignity of the countenance, but displayed consid-
erable breadth about the nostrils, which were made to breathe
fierceness and disdain. The mouth of the villain (for he was
one of the first magnitude) was composed of thick but well-
shaped lips, in which firmness and intrepidity were strongly
marked ; and, Avhen opened, disclosed a range of teeth of the
finest form and color. His hair was short and thick, but his
cheek was so fresh and fair, that he scarcely seemed to have
ever had any beard.

The fellow's dress was calculated to set off his figure. It
left his breast almost bare, and, the knees of his breeches being
open, a great part of his muscular legs appeared without cov-
ering, as his stockings did not reach to the knee. He was
placed upon the chair appropriated to witnesses, and turned
at once to the counsel for the Crown in order to narrate his own
doings as well as those of his associates in depravity. I have
never seen a cooler, more precise, methodical, and consistent
witness.

He detailed every circumstance to the minutest point, which
had happened during a month's time, with a wonderful accu-
racy. So far from manifesting any anxiety to conceal or to
excuse his own guilt, he on the contrary set it forth in the
blackest colors. He made himself a prominent actor in the
business of blood. The life which he led was as singular as it
was atrocious. He spent his time in committing outrages at
night, and during the day in exacting homage from the peas-
antry, whom he had inspired with a deep dread of him. He
walked through the county in arms, and compelled every
peasant to give him bed and board wherever he appeared. In
the caprices of his tyranny, he would make persons who
chanced to pass him, kneel down and offer him reverence,
while he presented his musket at their heads. Yet he was a
favorite with the populace, who pardoned the outrages com-
mitted on themseJUes, on account of his readiness to avenge
the affronts or the injuries which they suffered from others.
Villain as the fellow was, it was not the reward which tempted

56 CLOttMEl ASSlZfiS.

him to betray his associates. Though two thousand pounds
sterling had been offered by Government, he gave no informa-
tion for several months ; and when he did give it, it was to
save his life, which he had forfeited by a highway robbery,
for which he had been arrested. He seemed exceedingly anx-
ious to impress upon the crowd that, though he was " a stag,"
it was not for gold that he had sold the cause. Life itself was
the only bribe that could move his honor, and even the tempt-
ation which the instinctive passion for existence held out to
him was for a long while resisted.

Mr. Hatchell cross-examined this formidable attestator with
extraordinary skill and dexterity, but he was still unable to
shake his evidence. It was perfectly consistent and compact,
smooth and round, without any point of discrepancy on which
the most dexterous practitioner could lay a strong hold. The
most unfavorable circumstance to his cross-examiner was his
openness and candor. He had an ingenuousness in his atro-
city which defied all the ordinary expedients of counsel. Most
informers allege that they are influenced by the pure love of
justice to betray their accomplices. This statement goes to
shake their credit, because they are manifestly perjured in
the declaration. Fitzgerald, however, took a very different
course. He disclaimed all interest in the cause of justice, and
repeatedly stated that he would not have informed, except to
rescue himself from the halter which was fastened round his
neck. When he left the table, he impressed every man who
heard him with a conviction of, not only his great criminality
but his extraordinary talents.

He was followed by another accomplice, of the name of
Ryan, who was less remarkable than Fitzgerald, but whose
statement was equally consistent, and its parts as adhesive to
each other, as the more important informers. They had been
left in separate jails, and had not had any communication, so
that it could not be suggested that their evidence was the result
of a comparison of notes, and of a conspiracy against the pris-
oners. This Ryan also alleged that he had. informed merely
to save his life.

These witnesses were succeeded by several, who deposed to

OF DANIEL MAfcA. 57

minute incidents which went to corroborate the informers ; but
notwithstanding that a strong case had been made out by the
Crown, still the testimony of some untainted witness to the
leading fact was requisite, and the counsel for the prosecution
felt that on Kate Oostello the conviction must still depend.
She had not taken any participation in the murder. She could
not be regarded as a member of the conspiracy ; she was a
servant in the house of old John Keogh, but not an agent in
the business; and if she confirmed what the witnesses had de-
posed to, it was obvious that a conviction would ensue; while,
upon the other hand, if she was not brought forward, the want
of her testimony would produce a directly opposite result.

She was called, and a suspense far deeper than the expecta-
tion which had preceded the evidence of Fitzgerald was appa-
rent in every face. She did not come, and was again sum-
moned into court. Still Kate Oostello did not appear. Re-
peated requisitions were sent by the Solicitor-General, but
without effect. At length, every one began to conjecture that
she would disappoint and foil the Crown, and the friends of the
prisoners murmured that " Kate Costello would not turn against
her people/' An obvious feeling of satisfaction pervaded the
crowd, and the prisoners exhibited a proportionate solicitude,
in which hope seemed to predominate.

Suddenly, however, the chamber-door communicating with
the room where the witnesses were kept was opened, and one
of the most extraordinary figures that ever appeared in that
strange theatre, an Irish court of justice, was produced. A
withered, diminutive woman, who was unable to support her-
self, and whose feet gave way at every step/ in to which she
was impelled by her attendants, was seen entering the court,
and tottering toward the table. Her face was covered, and it
was impossible, for some time after she had been placed on the
tajale, to trace her features ; but her hands, which were as white
and clammy as a corpse's, and seemed to have undergone the
first process of decomposition, shook and shuddered, and a thrill
ran through the whole of her miserable and wornout frame. A
few minutes elapsed before her veil was removed ; and, when
it^as, the most ghastly face which I have ever observed was

3*

58 CLOttMEL ASSIZES.

disclosed ! Her eyes were quite closed, and the eyelids
shrunken as if by the touch of death. The lips were like
ashes, and remained open and without movement. Her breath-
ing was scarcely perceptible, and, as her head lay on her
shoulder, her long black hair fell dishevelled, and added to
the general character of disordered horror, which was expressed
in her demeanor.

Now that she was produced, she seemed little calculated to
be of any use. Mr. Doherty repeatedly addressed himself to
her, and entreated her to answer. She seemed unconscious
even of the sound of his voice. At length, however, with the
aid of water, which was applied to her mouth, and thrown in
repeated aspersions over her face, she was in some degree re-
stored, and was able to breathe a few words. An interval of
minutes elapsed between every question and answer. Her
voice was so low as to be scarcely audible, and was rather an
inarticulate whisper than tlie utterance of any connected sen-
tence. She was, with a great deal to do, conducted by the ex-
aminer through some of the preliminary incidents, and at last
was brought to the scene in the grove where the murderers
were assembled.

It remained that she should recognise the prisoners. Un-
less this were done, nothing would have been accomplished.
The rod with which culprits are identified was put into her
hand, and she was desired to stand up, to turn to the dock, and
to declare Avhether she saw in court any of the men whom she
had seen in the grove on the day of the murder. For a con-
siderable time she could not be got to rise from her seat; and
when she did, and stood up after a great effort over herself,
before she had turned round, but while the rod was trembling
in her hand, another extraordinary incident took place.

Walsh, one of the prisoners at the bar, cried out with the
most vehement gesture — "0 God! you are going to murder
me! I'll not stand hereto be murdered, for I'm downright
murdered, God help me !" This cry, uttered by a man almost
frenzied with excitation, drew the attention of the whole court
to the prisoner; and the Judge inquired of him of what he
complained. Walsh then stated, with more composure, that it

MURDER OF DANIEL MARA. 59

was unfair, while there was nobody in the dock but Lacy and
himself, to desire Kate Costello to look at him, for that he was
marked out to her where he stood. This was a very just ob-
servation, and Judge Moore immediately ordered that other
prisoners should be brought from the jail into the dock, and
that Walsh should be shown to Kate Costello in the midst of
a crowd.

The jail was at a considerable distance, and a good deal of
time was consumed in complying with the directions of the
Judge. Kate Costello sank down again upon her chair; and,
in the interval before the arrival of the other prisoners, we en-
gaged in conjectures as to the likelihood of Walsh being iden-
tified. She had never seen him, except at the grove, and it
was possible that she might not remember him. In that event
his life was safe. At last the other prisoners were introduced
into the dock. The sound of their fetters as they entered the
court, and the grounding of the soldiers' muskets on the pave-
ment, struck me.

It was now four o'clock in the morning; the candles were
almost wasted to their sockets, and a dim and uncertain light
was diffused through the court. Haggardness sat upon the
spectators, and yet no weariness or exhaustion appeared. The
frightful interest of the scene preserved the mind from fatigue.
The dock was crowded with malefactors, and, brought as they
were in order that guilt of all kinds should be confused and blend-
ed, they exhibited a most singular spectacle. This assemblage
of human beings laden with chains was, perhaps, more melan-
choly from the contrast which they presented between their
condition and their aspect. Even the pale light which glim-
mered through the court did not prevent their cheeks from
looking ruddy and healthful. They had been awakened in
their lonely cells in order to be produced, and, as they were
not aware of the object of arraying them together, there was
some surprise mixed with fear in their looks. I could not help
whispering to myself as I surveyed them, " What a noble and
fine race of men are here, and how much have they to answer
for, who, by degrading, have demoralized such a people !"

The desire of Walsh having been complied with, the witnes$

(50 CLONMEL ASSIZES.

was called upon a second time to place the rod upon his head.
She rose again, and turned round, holding the fatal index in
her hand. There was a deep silence through the court; the
face of Walsh exhibited the most intense anxiety, as the eyes
of Kate Costello rested upon the place where he stood. She
appeared at first not to recognise him, and the rod hung loosely
in her hand. I thought, as I saw her eyes traversing the as-
semblage of malefactors, that she either did not know him, or
would affect not to remember him. At last, however, she
raised the rod, and stretched it forth ; but, before it was laid
on the devoted head, a female voice exclaimed, "Oh, Kate!"
This cry, which issued from the crowd, and was probably the
exclamation of some relative of the Keoghs, whose destiny de-
pended on that of Walsh, thrilled the witness to the core. She
felt the adjuration in the very recesses of her being.

After a shudder, she collected herself again, and advanced
again toward the dock. She raised the rod a second time, and,
having laid it on the head of Walsh, who gave himself up as
lost the moment it touched him, she sank back into her chair.
The feeling which had filled the heart of every spectator here
found a vent, and a deep murmur was heard through the whole
court, mingled with sounds of stifled execration from the mass
of the people in the background. Lacy also was identified ;
and hero it may be said that the trial closed. Walsh, who,
while he entertained any hope, had been almost convulsed with
agitation, resumed his original composure. He took no further
interest in the proceeding, except when his landlord gave him
a high character for integrity and good conduct; and this com-
mendation he seemed rather to consider as a sort of bequest
which he should leave to his kindred, than as the means of sa-
ving his life. It is almost unnecessary to add that the prisoners
were found guilty.

Kate Costello, whose evidence was of such importance to the
Crown, had acted as a species of menial in the house of old
John Keogh, but was a near relation of her master. It is not
uncommon among the lower orders to introduce some depen-
dent relative into the family, who goes through offices of utility
which are quite free from degradation, and is at the same time

THE MURDER OF DANIEL MARA. 61

treated, to a great extent, as an equal. Kate Costello sat
down with old Jack Keogh and his sons at their meals, and
was accounted one of themselves. The most implicit trust was
placed in her ; and on one of the assassins observing that " Kate
Costello could hang them all," another observed that " there
was no fear of Kate." Nor would Kate ever have betrayed
the men who had placed their confidence in her, from any mer-
cenary motives. Fitzgerald had stated that she had been at
" the Grove" in the morning of the day on which the murder
was committed, and that she could confirm his testimony. She
was in consequence arrested, and was told that she should be
hanged unless she disclosed the truth. Terror extorted froir.
her the revealments which were turned to such account. When
examined as a witness on the trial of Lacy and Walsh, her
agitation did not arise from any regard for them, but from her
consciousness that if they were convicted her own relatives
and benefactors must share in their fate.

The trial of Patrick and John Keogh came on upon Satur-
day, the 5th of April, some days after the conviction of Lacy
and of Walsh, who had been executed in the interval. The
trial of the Keoghs had been postponed at the instance of the
prisoners, but it was understood that the Crown had no objec-
tion to the delay, as great difficulty was supposed to have
arisen in persuading Kate Costello to give completion to the
useful work in which she had been engaged. It was said that
the friends of the Keoghs had got access to her, and that she
had refused to come forward against "her people." It was
also rumored that she had entertained an attachment for John
Keogh, and although he had wronged her, and she had suffered
severe detriment from their criminal connection, that she loved
him still, and would not take his life away. There was, there-
fore, enough of doubt incidental to the trial of the Keoghs to
give it the interest of uncertainty ; and, however fatal the
omen which the conviction of their brother-conspirators held
out, still it was supposed that Kate Costello would recoil from
her terrible task.

The court was as much crowded as it had been on the first
trial, upon the morning on which the two Keoghs were put at

(}2 OLONMEL ASSIZES.

the bar. They were more immediate agents in the assassina
tion. It had been in a great measure planned, as well as exe-
cuted by them ; and there was a further circumstance of aggra-
vation in their having been in habits of intimacy with the de-
ceased. When placed at the bar, their appearance struck
every spectator as in strange anomaly with their misdeeds.
They both seemed to be farmers of the most respectable class.
Patrick, the younger, was perfectly well clad. He had a blue
coat and white waistcoat, of the best materials used by the
peasantry : a black silk-handkerchief was carefully knotted on
his neck. He was lower in stature and of less athletic propor-
tions than his .brother John, but had a more determined and
resolute physiognomy. He looked alert, quick, and active.
The other was of gigantic stature, and of immense width of
shoulder and strength of limb. He rose beyond every man in
court, and towered in the dock. His dress was not as neatly
arranged as his brother's, and his neck was without covering,
which served to exhibit the hugeness of his proportions. He
looked in the vigor of powerful manhood. His face was ruddy
and blooming, and was quite destitute of all darkness and ma-
levolence of expression. There was perhaps too much fullness
about the lips, and some traces of savageness as well as of
voluptuousness might have been detected by a minute physi-
ognomist in their exuberance ; but the bright blue of his mild
and intelligent eyes counterbalanced this evil indication.

The aspect of these two young men was greatly calculated
to excite interest ; but there was another object in court which
was even more deserving of attention. On the left hand of his
two sons, and just near the youngest of them, sat an old man,
whose head was covered with a profusion of gray hairs, and who,
although evidently greatly advanced in years, was of a hale and
healthful aspect. I did not notice him at first, but in the course
of the trial, the glare which his eye gradually acquired, and
the passing of all color from his cheek, as the fate of his sons
grew to certainty, drew my observation, and I learned on in-
quiry, what I had readily conjectured, that he Avas the father
of the prisoners at the bar. He did not utter a word during
#19 fifteen or sixteen hours that he remained in attendance

THE MURDER OF DANIEL MARA. . 63

upon the dreadful scene which was going on before him. The
appearance of Kate Costello herself, M'hom he had fostered,
fed, and cherished, scarcely seemed to move him from his ter-
rible tranquillity.

She was, as on the former occasion, the pivot of the whole
case. The anticipations that she would not give evidence
" against her own flesh and blood" were wholly groundless,
for on her second exhibition as a witness she enacted her part
with much more firmness and determination. She had before
kept her eyes almost closed, but she now opened and fixed
them upon the counsel, and exhibited great quickness and
shrewdness in their expression, and watched the cross-exami-
nation with great wariness and dexterity. I was greatly sur-
prised at this change, and can only refer it to the spirit of de-
termination which her passage of the first difficulty on the for-
mer trial had produced. The first step in blood had been
taken, and she trod more firmly in taking the second. What-
ever may have been the cause, she certainly exhibited little
compunction in bringing her cousins to justice, and laid the
rod on the head of her relative and supposed paramour without
remorse.

At an early hour on Sunday morning the verdict of guilty
was brought in. The prisoners at the bar received it without
surprise, but turned deadly pale. The change in John Keogh
was more manifest, as in the morning of Saturday he stood
blooming with health at the bar, and was now as white as a
shroud. The Judge told them that as it was the morning of
Easter Sunday (which is commemorative of the resurrection of
the dead), he should not then pronounce sentence upon them.
They cried out, "A long day, a long day, my Lord !" and at
the same time begged that their bodies might be given to their
father. This prayer was uttered with a sound resembling the
wail of an Irish funeral, and accompanied with a most pathetic
gesture. They both swung themselves with a sort of oscilla-
tion up and down, with their heads thrown back, striking their
hands, with the fingers half closed, against their breasts, in the
manner which Roman Catholics use in saying " The Confaeor"
The reference which they made to their father drew my atten-

64 CLONMEL ASSIZES.

tion to the miserable old man. Two persons, friends of his,
had attended him in court; and when his sons, after having
been founi guilty, were about to be removed, he was lifted on
the table, on which he was with difficulty sustained, and was
brought near to the dock. He wanted to embrace John Keogh,
and stretched out his arms toward him. The latter, whose
manliness now forsook him, leaned over the iron spikes to his
full length, got the old man into his bosom, and, while his tears
ran down his face, pressed him long and closely to his heart.
They were at length separated, and the sons were removed to
the cells appointed for the condemned.

The Judge left the bench, and the court was gradually
cleared. Still the father of the prisoners remained between
his two attendants almost insensible. He was almost the last
to depart. I followed him out. It was a dark and stormy
night. The wind beat full against the miserable wretch, and
made him totter as he went along. His attendants were ad-
dressing to him some words of consolation connected with reli-
gion (for these people are, with all their crimes, not destitute
of religious impressions), but the old man only answered them
with his moans. He said nothing articulate, but during all
the way to the obscure cellar into which they led him, contin-
ued moaning as he went. It was not, I trust, a mere love of
excitement, which arises from the contemplation of scenes in
which the passions are brought out, that made me watch this
scene of human misery. I may say, without affectation, that
I was (as who would not have been ?) profoundly moved by
what I saw; and when I beheld this forlorn and desolate man
descend into his wretched abode, which was lighted by a fee-
ble candle, and saw him fall upon his knees in helplessness,
while his attendants gave way to sorrow, I could not restrain
my own tears.

The scenes of misery did not stop here. Old John Russel
pleaded guilty. He had two sons, lads of fifteen or sixteen,
and, in the hope of saving them, acknowledged his crime at
the bar. " Let them," he said, in'the jail where I saw him—,
" let them put me on the trap if they like, but let them snare
the boys."

ORIGIN OF IRISH CRIME. 65

But T shall not proceed further in the detail of these dread-
ful incidents. There were many other trials at the assizes, in
which terrible disclosures of barbarity took place. For three
weeks the two Judges were unremittingly employed in trying
cases of dreadful atrocity, and in almost every instance the per-
petrators of crimes the most detestable were persons whose gen-
eral moral conduct stood in a wonderful contrast with their
isolated acts of depravity. Almost every offence was con-
nected with the great agrarian organization which prevails
through the country.

It must be acknowledged that, terrible as the misdeeds of
the Tipperary peasantry must upon all hands be admitted to
be, yet, in general, there was none of the meanness and turpi-
tude observable in their enormities which characterize the
crimes that are disclosed at an English assize. There were
scarcely any examples of murder committed for mere gain. It
seemed to be a point of honor with the malefactors to take
blood, and to spurn at money. Almost every offence was com-
mitted in carrying a system into effect, and the victims who
were sacrificed were considered by their immolators as offered
up upon a justifiable principle of necessary extermination.
These are assuredly important facts, and, after having contem-
plated these moral phenomena, it becomes a duty to inquire
into the causes from which these marvellous atrocities derive
their origin.

But before I proceed to suggest what I conceive to be the
sources of a condition so disastrous, it is not inappropriate to
inquire how long the lower orders in Ireland have been habit-
uated to these terrible practices, and to look back to the period
at which they may be considered to have had their origin. If
these crimes were of a novel character, and had a recent exist-
ence, that circumstance would afford strong grounds for con-
cluding that temporary expedients, and the vigorous adminis-
tration of the law applied to the suppression of local and ephe-
meral disturbances, would be of avail. But if we find that
it is not now, or within these few years, that these symptoms
of demoralization have appeared, it is then reasonable to con-
clude that there must be some essential vice, some radical ira-

QQ CLONMEL ASSIZES.

perfection in the general system by which the country is gor
erned, and it is necessary to ascertain what the extent and
root of the evil is, before any effectual remedy can be discov-
ered for its cure.

This is a subject of paramount interest, and its importance
will justify the writer of this article, after a detail of the ex-
traordinary incidents which he has narrated, in taking a rapid
retrospect of antecedent events, of whicli recent transactions
may be reasonably accounted the perpetuation. In doing so,
some coincidence may be found with what the writer may have
observed elsewhere, but the fear of incurring the imputation
of either tediousness or self-citation shall not deter him from
references to what he conceives to be of great and momentous
materiality.

The first and leading feature in the disturbances and atroci-
ties of Tipperary is, that they are of an old date, and have
been for much more than half a century of uninterrupted con-
tinuance. Arthur Young* travelled in Ireland in the years
1776, 1777, and 1778. His excellent book is entitled "A Tour
in Ireland, with General Observations on the Present State of
that Kingdom." Although the professed object of Arthur
Young in visiting Ireland was to ascertain the condition of its
agriculture, and a great portion of his work turns upon that
subject, yet he has also investigated its political condition, and
pointed out what he conceived to be the chief evils by which
the country was afflicted, and the mode of removing them. He
adverts particularly to the state of the peasantry in the south

* Arthur Young was one of the very few men who studied Agriculture, as
a science, in the eighteenth century. That he might master it, he traversed the
British islands, and extended his observations over France, Italy, and Spain.
He was a great experimentalist. He published the Farmer's Calendar and the
Annals of Agriculture, both of which were very popular, and among his con-
tributors was George III., who aspired to be considered a country gentleman,
by virtue of having a farm of his own, at Windsor. When Sir John Sinclair
gjt the Government to establish the Board of Agriculture, he obtained the sec-
retaryship for Mr. Young, who retained it until his death, in 1820. His Agri-
cultural tours in England, Ireland, and France, were full of information, care-
fully collected and impartially communicated. His statements respecting the
fallen condition of Ireland, and the causes of her decadence, were startling—
because, from the write :'s character, their truth was undoubted.— M.

WH1TEBOYISM. 67

of Ireland, and it is well worthy of remark that the outrages
which are now in daily commission were of exactly the same
character as the atrocities which were perpetrated by the White-
boys (as the insurgents were called) in 1760.

" The Whiteboys," says Arthur Young, in page 75 of the
quarto edition, " began in Tipperary. It was a common prac-
tice with them to go in parties about the country, swearing
many to be true to them, and forcing them to join by menaces,
which they very often carried into execution. At last they
set up to be general redressers of grievances — punished all
obnoxious persons who advanced the value of lands, or held
farms over their head ; and, having taken the administration
of justice into their own hands, were not very exact in the
distribution of it. They forced masters to release apprentices ;
carried off the daughters of rich farmers — ravished them into
marriages; they levied sums of money on the middling and
lower farmers, in order to support their cause, in defending
prosecutions against them ; and many of them subsisted with-
out work, supported by these prosecutions. Sometimes they
committed considerable robberies, breaking into houses an,,
taking money under pretence of redressing grievances. In the
course of these outrages they burnt several houses, and de-
stroyed the whole substance of those obnoxious to them. The
barbarities they committed were shocking. One of their usual
punishments, and by no means the most severe, was taking
people out of their beds, carrying them naked in winter on horse-
back for some distance, and burying them up to their chin in
a hole with briers, not forgetting to cut off one of their ears."
Arthur Young goes on to say that the Government had not suc-
ceeded in discovering any radical cure.

It will scarcely be disputed that the Whiteboyism of 17GO
corresponds with that of 1828; and if, when Arthur Young
wrote his valuable book, the Government had not discovered
any " radical cure," it will scarcely be suggested that any
remedy has since that time been devised. From the period at
which these outrages commenced, the evil has continued in a
rapidly-progressive augmentation. Every expedient which
legislative ingenuity could invent has been tried. All that

$8 CLONMEL ASSIZES.

the terrors of tlie law could accomplish has been put into ex*
periment without avail. Special commissioners and special
delegations of counsel have been almost annually despatched
into the disturbed districts, and crime appears to have only
undergone a pruning, while its roots remained untouched.

Mr. Doherty is not the first Solicitor-General of great abili-
ties who has been despatched by Government for the purpose
of awing the peasantry into their duty. The present Chief-
Justice of the King's Bench [Bush ej, upon filling Mr. Doherty 's
office, was sent upon the same painful errand, and, after having
been equally successful in procuring the conviction of malefac-
tors, and brandished the naked sword of justice with as puis-
sant an arm, new atrocities have almost immediately afterward
broken forth, and furnished new occasions for the exercise of
his commanding eloquence.

It is reasonable to presume that the recent executions at
Clonmel will not be attended with any more permanently use-
ful consequences ; and symptoms are already beginning to re-
appear, which, independently of the admonitions of experience,
may well induce an apprehension that, before much time shall
go by, the law-officers of the Crown will have to go through
the same terrible routine of prosecution. It is said, indeed, by
many sanguine speculators on the public ]5eace, that now, indeed,
something effectual has been done, and that the jail and the
gibbet there have given a lesson that will not be speedily for-
gotten. How often has the same thing been said when the
scaffold was strewed with the same heaps of the dead ! How
often have the prophets of tranquillity been falsified by the
event ! If the crimes which, ever since the year 1760, have
been uninterruptedly committed, and have followed in such a
rapid and tumultuous succession, had been of only occasional
occurrence, it would be reasonable to conclude that the terrors
of the law could repress them.

But it is manifest that the system of atrocity doos not depend
upon causes merely ephemeral, and can not therefore be under
the operation of temporary checks. We have not merely wit-
nessed sudden inundations which, after a rapid desolation, have
suddenly subsided : we behold a stream as deep as it is dark,

OF THE PENAL CODE.

wliich indicates, by its continuous current, that it is derived
from an unfailing fountain, and which, however augmented by
the contribution of other springs of bitterness, must be indebted
for its main supply to some abundant and distant source.
Where, then, is the well-head to be found ? Where are we
to seek for the origin of evils, which are of such a character
that they carry with them the clearest evidence that their
causes must be as enduring as themselves? It may at first
view, and to any man who is not well acquainted with the
moral feelings and habits of the great body of the population
of Ireland, seem a paradoxical proposition that the laws which
affect the Roman Catholics furnish a clew by which, however
complicated the mazes may be which constitute the labyrinth
of calamity, it will not be difficult to trace our way.

It may be asked, with a great appearance of plausibility
(and indeed it is often inquired), what possible effect the ex-
clusion of a few Roman Catholic gentlemen from Parliament,
and of still fewer Roman Catholic barristers from the bench,
can produce in deteriorating the moral habits of the people?
This, however, is not the true view of the matter. The exclu-
sion of Roman Catholics from office is one of the results of
the penal code, but it is a sophism to suggest that it is the sum
total of the law itself, and that the whole of it might be re-
solved into that single proposition. The just mode of present-
ing the question would be this : " What effect does the penal
code produce by separating the higher and the lower orders
from each other?"

Before I suggest any reasons of my own, it may be judicious
to refer to the same writer, from whom I have extracted a de-
scription of the state of the peasantry, with which its present
condition singularly corresponds. The authority of Arthur
Young is of great value, because his opinions were not in the
least degree influenced by those passions which are almost in-
separable from every native of Ireland. He was an English-
man— had no share in the factious animosities by which this
country is divided — he had a cool, deliberate, and scientific
mind — was a sober thinker, and a deep scrutinizer into the
frame and constitution of society, and was entirely free from

70 CLONMEL AS8I2KS.

all tendency to extravagance in speculation, either political or
religious. Arthur Young's book consists of two parts. In the
first he gives a minute account of what he saw in Ireland, and
in the second,' under a series of chapters, one of which is ap-
propriately entitled " Oppression," he states what he conceives
to he the causes of the lamentahle condition of the people.
Having prefixed this title of " oppression" to the 29th page of
the second part of his book, he says: "The landlord of an
Irish estate inhabited by Roman Catholics, is a sort of despot,
who yields obedience in whatever concerns the poor to no law
but his own will. To discover what the liberty of a people is,
we must live among them, and not look for it in the statutes of
the realm : the language of written law may be that of liberty,
but the situation of the poor may speak no language but that
of slavery. There is too much of this contradiction in Ireland ;
a long series of oppression, aided by many very ill-judged laws,
has brought landlords into a habit of exerting a very lofty su-
periority, and their vassals into that of a most unlimited sub-
mission : speaking a language that is despised, professing a
religion that is abhorred, and being disarmed, the poor find
themselves, in many cases, slaves, even in the bosom of written
liberty ! . . . The abominable distinction of religion, united with
the oppressive conduct of the little country-gentlemen, or rather
vermin of the kingdom, who were never out of it, altogether
bear still very heavy on the poor people, and subject them to
situations more mortifying than we ever behold in England."
In the next page after these preliminary observations, this
able writer (who said in vain fifty years ago what since that
time so many eminent men have been in vain repeating)
points out more immediately the causes of the crimes commit-
ted by the peasantry, which he distinctly refers to the distinc-
tions of religion. "The proper distinction in all the discon-
tents of the people is into Protestant and Catholic. The White-
boys, being laboring Catholics, met with all those oppressions
I have described, and would probably have continued in full
submission, had not very severe treatment blown up the flame
of resistance. The atrocious acts they were guilty of made
them the objects of general indignation : acts were passed for

JtTSTlCE TO IfcELAtfO. 71

tlieir punishment, which seemed calculated for the meridian of
Barbaiy. It is manifest that the gentlemen of Ireland never
thought of a radical cure, from overlooking the real cause of the
disease, which, in fact, lay in themselves, and not in the wretches
they doomed to the gallows. Let them change their own
conduct entirely, and the poor will not long riot. Treat them
like men, who ought to be free as yourselves; put an end to
that system of religious persecution which for seventy years
has divided the kingdom against itself. In these two things
lies the cure of insurrection — perform them completely, and
you will have an affectionate poor, instead of oppressed and
discontented vassals; a better treatment of the poor in Ireland
is a very material point to the welfare of the whole BrrWsh
empire. Events may happen which may convince us fatally
of this truth. If not, oppression would have broken all the
spirit and resentment of men. By what policy the Govern-
ment of England can, for so many years, have permitted such
an absurd system to be matured in Ireland, is beyond the
power of plain sense to discover."

Arthur Young may be wrong in his inference (I do not think
that he is) ; but, be he right or wrong, I have succeeded in
establishing that he, whose evidence was most dispassionate
and impartial, referred the agrarian barbarities of the lower
orders to the oppression of the Roman Catholics. But the pas-
sage which I have cited is not the strongest. The seventh
section of his work is entitled " Religion." After saying that
" the domineering aristocracy of five hundred thousand Protest-
ants feel the sweets of having two millions of slaves" (the Ro-
man Catholic body was then not one third of what the penal
code has since made it), he observes : " The disturbances of
the Whiteboys, which lasted ten years" (what would he now
say of their duration ?), " in spite of every exertion of legal
power, were, in many circumstances, very remarkable, and in
none more so than in the surprising intelligence among the in-
surgents, wherever found. It was universal, and almost in-
stantaneous. The numerous bodies of them, at whatever dis-
tance from each other, seemed animated by one zeal, and not
a single instance was known, in that long course of time, of a

1% CLONMEL ASSlZfiS.

single individual betraying the cause. The severest threats
and the most splendid promises of reward had no other effect
than to draw closer the bonds which cemented a multitude to
all appearance so desultory. It was then evident that the iron
hand of oppression had been far enough from securing the obe-
dience or crushing the spirit of the people ; and all reflecting
men, who consider the value of religious liberty, will wish it
may never have that effect — will trust in the wisdom of Al-
mighty God, for teaching man to respect even those prejudices
of his brethren that are imbibed as sacred rights, even from
earliest infancy ; that, by dear-bought experience of the futility
and ruin of the attempt, the persecuting spirit may cease, and
tororation establish that harmony and security which, five-
score years' experience has told us, is not to be purchased at
the expense of humanity."

This is strong language, and was used by a man who had
no connecting sympathy of interest, of religion, or of national-
ity, with Ireland. So unequivocal an opinion, expressed by a
person of such authority, and whose credit is not affected by
any imaginable circumstance, must be admitted to have great
weight, even if there was a difficulty in perceiving the grounds
on which that opinion rested. But there is little or none. The
law divides the Protestant proprietor from the Catholic tiller
of the soil, and generates a feeling of tyrannical domination
in the one, and of hatred and distrust in the other. The Irish
peasant is not divided from his landlord by the ordinary de-
markations of society. Another barrier is erected, and, as if
the poor and the rich were not already sufficiently separated,
religion is raised as an additional boundary between them.

The operation of the feelings, which are the consequence of
this division, is stronger in the county of Tipperary than else-
where. It is a peculiarly Cromwellian district, or, in other
words, the holy warriors of the Protector chose it as their land
of peculiar promise, and selected it as a favorite object of con-
fiscation. The lower orders have good memories. There is
scarcely a peasant who, as he passes the road, will not point to
the splendid mansions of the aristocracy, embowered in groves,
or rising upon fertile elevations, and tell you the name of the

PROTESTANT ASCENDENCY. 73

pious corporal or the inspired sergeant from whom the present
proprietors derive a title, which, even at this day, appears to
be of a modern origin.

These reminiscences are of a most injurious tendency. But,/
after all, it is the system of religious separation which nurtures/ h ,4-
the passions of the peasantry with these pernicious recollec-j
tions. They are not permitted to forget that Protestantism is
stamped upon every institution in the country, and their own
.sunderance from the privileged class is perpetually brought to
their minds. Judges, sheriffs, magistrates, Crown-counsel, law-
officers — all are Protestant.* The very sight of a court of
justice reminds them of the degradations attached to their re-
ligion, by presenting them with the ocular proof of the advan-
tages and honors which belong to the legal creed. It is not,
therefore, wonderful that they should feel themselves a branded
caste; that they should have a consciousness that they belong
to a debased and inferior community ; and, having no confi-
dence in the upper classes, and no reliance in the sectarian
administration of the law, that they should establish a code of
barbarous legislation among themselves, and have recourse to
what Lord Bacon calls "the wild justice" of revenge. A
change of system would not perhaps produce immediate ef-
fects upon the character of the people : but I believe that

* Having repeatedly mentioned " Protestant Ascendency," in these notes, it :
may not be improper to define what it was and what it meant. In an address j
from the Corporation of Dublin to the Protestants of Ireland, praying them to
resist Catholic Emancipation, the following passage occurs : " Protestant As-
cendency, which we have resolved with our lives and fortunes to maintain.
And that no doubt may remain of what we understand by the words * Protestant
Ascendency, we have further resolved, that we consider the Protestant Ascen-
dency to consist in — a Protestant King of Ireland — a Protestant Parliament
— a Protestant hierarchy — Protestant Electors and Government — the benches
of justice, the army, and the Revenue, through all their branches and details,
Protestant — and this system supported by a connection with the Protestant'
Realm of Britain." Previous to this assertion of exclusive Protestant rights,
the Lord Chancellor of Ireland had declared from the judgment-seat (in 1759)
that " the laws did not presume a Papist to exist in the Kingdom, nor could
they breathe without the connivance of government." Yet the Catholics, whose /
rights and very existence were legally ignored, were about seven time* more
numerous than the Protestants of Ireland. — M.

VOL. II.— 4

?4: CLONMEL ASSIZES.

its results would be much more speedy than is generally im-
agined.

At all events, the experiment of conciliation is worth the
trial. Every other expedient has been resorted to, and has
wholly failed. It remains that the legislature, after exhaust-
ing all other means of tranquillizing Ireland, should, upon a
mere chance of success, adopt the remedy which has at least
the sanction of illustrious names for its recommendation. The
union of the two great classes of the people in Ireland — in
other words, the emancipation of the Roman Catholics — is in
this view not only recommended by motives of policy, but of
humanity ; for who that has witnessed the scenes which I have
(perhaps at too much length) detailed in these pages, can fail
to feel that, if the demoralization of the people arises from bad
government, the men who from feelings of partisanship perse-
vere in that system of misrule, will have to render a terrible
account 1

THE CATHOLIC BAR.

" And ye shall walk in silk attire."— Old Ballad.

UPON the first day of last Michaelmas term [1826] eight
gentlemen were called to the Bar, of whom four were Roman
Catholics. This was a kind of event in the Hall of the Four
Courts, and in the lack of any other matter of interest, such
as the speech of a new Sergeant at a corporation dinner, which
had by this time ceased to excite the comments of the attor-
neys, produced a species of excitation. There are two assort-
ments of oaths for Catholics and Protestants upon their admis-
sion to the Bar. The latter still enter their protestations, in
the face of Lord Manners and of Heaven, against the damna-
ble idolatry of the Church of Rome. But when the more miti-
gated oath provided for the Roman Catholics happens to be
rehearsed on the first day of term,* it is easy to perceive an
expression of disrelish in the countenance of the court; and
although it is impossible for Lord Manners to divest himself of
that fine urbanity which belongs to his birth and rank, yet in
the bow with which he receives the aspiring Papist, there are
evident symptoms of constraint ; and it is by a kind of effort
even in his features that they are wrought into an elaborated
smile.

It does not frequently happen that more than one or two
Roman Catholics are called in any single term ; and when

* This sketch was published in February, 1827, when Lord Manners was
Chancellor. — Roman Catholics were not admitted to the Irish bar until 1798.
— Among the earliest who availed themselves of this privilege, was Mr. 0'C<w»
nell.— M.

76 THE CATHOLIC BAK.

Lord Manners heard four several shocks given to the Consti-
tution, and the Roman Catholic qualification-oath coming again
and again upon him, it is not wonderful that his composure
should have been disturbed, and that the loyal part of the Bar
should have caught the expression of dismay. Mr. Sergeant
Lefroy, alarmed at the repeated omissions of those pious de-
nunciations of the Virgin Mary, by which the laws and lib-
erty of these countries are sustained, in the very act of putting
a fee into his pocket, lifted up the whites of his eyes to
Heaven : Mr. Devonshire Jackson let fall his mask, and deter-
mined on voting for Gerard Callaghan :* the Solicitor-General
was observed to whisper Mr. Saurin, until the arrival of Mr.
Plunket withdrew him from the ear of his former associate in
office : to Mr. Saurin it was proposed by Barclay Scriven to
petition Mr. Peel to appoint him Attorney-General in the
island of Barbadoes; and it is rumored that another letter to
my Lord Norbury has been discovered,t in which the writer
protests his belief, that the Bar will soon be reduced to its
condition in the reign of James the Second.

In the reign of James the Second, Roman Catholic barristers
were raised to office ; and, as the time appears to be at hand
when they will be rendered eligible by law to hold places of
distinction and of trust, it is worth our while to examine in
what way they conducted themselves when, in the short inter-
val of their political prosperity, Roman Catholics were in-
vested with authority. Doctor King says, that " no sooner
had the Papists got judges and juries that would believe
them, but they began a trade of swearing and ripping up
what they pretended their Protestant neighbors had said of
King James, whilst Duke of York ;" and proceeds to charge
them with gross corruption in the administration of justice.

* Mr. Devonshire Jackson, a. clever lawyer, very attenuated in person and
intolerant in political polemics, is now one of the Judges of the Common Pleas
in Ireland. — Mr. Gerard Callaghan, son of Daniel Callaghan, a rich victualler
and contractor in Cork, was ineligible, as a Catholic, to sit in Parliament, so
he changed his religion, and was elected for his native city. After Emancipa-
tion his brother Daniel was elected, without relinquishing his religious faith. — M.

t See the preceding sketch of Lord Notbury, in this volume. — M

ARCHBISHOP KING. 77

The Doctor was Arclibisliop of Dublin. He had originally
been a sizar in the University ; and having afterward obtained
a fellowship, gradually raised himself, by dint of sycophancy
and intrigue, to one of the richest sees in the richest establish-
ment in the world.* Whether he exhibited all the arrogance
of a Pontifical parvenu ; whether he was at once a haughty
priest and a consecrated jackanapes; whether he was a sophist
in his creed, an equivocator in his statements, arid a cobweb-
weaver in his theology ; whether he had a vain head, a nig-
gard hand, and a false and servile heart, and betrayed the
men who raised him, I have not been able to determine. He
appears to have been an apostate in his politics.! His represen-
tation of the conduct of the Catholic judges in his time is not
without some episcopal characteristics, and justifies what Leslie
says of him : — " Though many things the archbishop says are
true, yet he has hardly spoken a true word without a warp."
The best and most incontrovertible evidence (that of Lord
Clarendon, the Lord-Lieutenant, and a firm Protestant), could
be adduced to show how widely the statements of Doctor King
vary from the fact.

Lord Clarendon tells us that " when the Popish judges went
to the assizes in the counties of Down and Londonderry, where
many considerable persons were to be tried for words formerly
spoken against King James, they took as much pains as it

* Dr. William King-, born in 1650, was an Irishman educated at Trinity Col-
lege, and for many years Archbishop of Dublin. It is worth mention, as show-
ing how church patronage went in those days, and (it may be) how little they
deserved promotion, that though, from 1609 to 1773, there were one hundred
and eight appointments or translations to Irish sees, only twenty-three fellows
of Trinity College (the only University in Ireland), were among the prize-hold-
ers. One of these was the illustrious James Usher, appointed Bishop of Meath
in 1620 (a see now having Dr. Singer at its head), and Archbishop of Armagh
in 1624. A celebrated wit, by the way, used to say that " Bishops," who are<»
always removed merely to richer dioceses, "are the only things that do not IN
suffer by translation." — Archbishop King died in 1729.— M.

t Of these last sentences it might be said, addressing Dr. Magee, Archbishop
of Dublin when they were written —

" Mutato nomine, de te fabula narratur."

Mr. Sheil appears to have a rooted antipathy to this divine, who was a liberal
in his youth, but became intolerant in his later years. — M.

78 THE CATHOLIC BAB.

was possible to quiet the minds of the people wherever they
went; and they took care to have all the juries mingled, half
English and half Irish."— (State Letters, vol. i., p. 326.) " Judge
Daly," he says, " one of the Popish judges, did, at the assizes
of the county of Meath, enlarge much upon the unconsciona-
bleness of indicting men for words spoken so many years be^
fore; and thereupon the jurors, the major part of whom were
Irish, acquitted them :" and he adds, that " Mr. Justice' Nu-
gent, another Popish judge, made the same declaration at
Drogheda, where several persons were tried for words." Lord
Clarendon further states, that he was in the habit of consult-
ing Roman Catholics, who had been recently promoted, re-
specting the appointment of mayors, sheriffs, and common-
council men. " I advise," he says, " with those who are best
acquainted in these towns, particularly with Justice Daly,
and others of the King's council of that persuasion ; and the
lists of names these men give me, are always equal, half Eng-
glish, half Irish, which, they say, is the best way to make
them unite and live friendly together." — (State Letters, vol.
ii., p. 319.)

In the first volume of the State Letters, p. 292, he says,
" At the council-board, there was a complaint proved against
a justice of the peace ; and it is remarkable that several of
our new Roman Catholic counsellors, though the justice was
an Englishman and a Protestant, were for putting off the busi-
ness ; and particularly the three said Popish judges said, the
gentleman would be more careful for the future." He adds,
that " when the Popish judges were made privy-counsellors,
they conducted themselves with singular modesty," — a prece-
dent which I have no doubt that Mr. Blake will follow, when
he shall be elevated to the vice-regal cabinet.*

* Many a chance arrow hits the white ; many a true word is spoker in jest;
Mr. Sheil was an involuntary prophet. Anthony Richard Blake, who was
Lord Wellesley's particular friend, was one of the earliest Catholic Privy Coun-
cillors in Ireland, after Emancipation. Born in 1786, he was called to the bar
in 1813 ; was Chief-Remembrancer of Ireland from 1823 to 1842, when he
resigned from ill-health ; in 1844, was made a commissioner of charitable do-
nations and bequests for Ireland; and died, in January, 1849, aged sixty
three. — M.

SIR THEOBALD BUTLER. 79

Of the Roman Catholics, who were promoted in the reign of
James the Second, Sir Theobald Butler was by far the most
distinguished. He was created Attorney-General, and dis»
charged the duties of his office with perfect fairness and im-
partiality. This very able, and, as far as renown can be ob-
tained in Ireland, this celebrated man was not only without
an equal, but without a competitor in his profession. Although
the reputation of a lawyer is almost of necessity evanescent,
yet such was the impression produced by his extraordinary
abilities, that his name is to this day familiarly referred to.
This permanence in the national recollection is in a great
measure to be attributed to the very important part which he
took in politics, and especially in the negotiation of the treaty
of Limerick. His high rank also, for he was a member of the
great house of Ormond, added to his influence.

As far as I have been able to form an estimate of his intellectual
qualities, from the speech which he delivered at the bar of the
Irish House of Commons, he was more remarkable for strength,
brevity, condensation, and great powers of argument, than for
any extraordinary faculty of elocution. The speech to which
I have adverted, has none of those embellishments of rhetoric,
and those splendid vices in oratory, to which the school of
Irish eloquence became subsequently addicted.* The whole
of this oration is cast in a syllogistic mould, and exhibits too
much logical apparatus. It was, I believe, the fashion of the
time : still the vehemence of passion breaks through the arti-
ficial regularity of reasoning, and while he is proceeding with
a series of propositions, systematically divided, the indignant
emotions, which the injuries of his country could not fail to
produce, burst repeatedly and abundantly out : in the midst (
of all the pedantic forms of scholastic disputation, Nature as-
serts her dominion ; he gives a loose to anguish, and pours *
forth his heart.

Sir Theobald Butler had not only been among the besieged
Catholics at Limerick, but was employed by his countrymen

* And of which Mr. Shell's own oratory was a brilliant example ; — so easy *
is it to perceive faults, and yet possess them — to approve of the " meliora," an(J !
yet have to add " sed inferiora sequor," — M.

SO THE CATHOLIC BAR.

to settle the articles of capitulation.* His name appears on
the face of the treaty as one of the parties with whom, on
behalf of the Irish, it was concluded. When in the year 1703,
only twelve years after the articles had been signed, a bill
(the first link of the penal code) was introduced into parlia-
ment, the effect of which was utterly to abrogate those articles,
the eyes of the whole nation were turned upon the man who
had been instrumental in effecting that great national arrange-
ment. Independently of his great abilities as an advocate, he
presented, in his own person, a more immediate and distinct
perception of that injustice which was about to be exercised
against the body, of which he was the ornament, and to which
his eloquence now afforded their only refuge.

In a book entitled "An Account of the Debates on the
Popery Laws," it is stated that the Papists of Ireland, obser-
ving that the House of Commons was preparing the heads of a
bill to be transmitted to England to be drawn into an act to
prevent the growth of Popery, and having in vain endeavored
to put a stop to it there, at its remittance back to Ireland
presented to the House of Commons a petition praying to be
heard by their counsel against the bill, and to have a copy of
the bill, and to have a reasonable time to speak to it before it
passed, when it was ordered that they should be heard.

Upon Tuesday the 22d of February, 1703, Sir Theobald
Butler appeared at the bar, and with the treaty of Limerick

* The defender of Limerick, when besieged by the army of William III., at
the Revolution, was " the gallant Sarsfield" — so designated in the histories of
the time. He was created Earl of Lucan, by James II., but the title was not
legally recognised, for himself or his descendants, in Great Britain or Ireland.
Limerick was surrendered to William, even while the Irish were within a few
hours of assistance from France, upon conditions, which, if carried out by the
English, would have secured equal civil rights and liberties to all of the Irish peo«
pie, and bound Ireland to Great Britain by a stronger tie — that of justice ren-
dered— than that of " allegiance." The treaty of Limerick, which terminated
the Dutchman's contest for a throne, was basely violated by England, when pe-
nal laws against Catholics were enacted, instead of the promised justice. To
this day, the very stone on which that Treaty was signed, is shown in Limerick,
and one of O'Connell's most stirring speeches, during the "Monster Meetings"
of 1843, was made within sight of this 'monument of Ireland's having trusted to
the honor of England — and having been deceived. — M,,

THE TREATY OF LIMERICK. 81

in his hand, requested, on behalf of the Irish Homan Catholics,
to be heard. It must have been a very remarkable scene.
Whether we consider the assembly to which the remonstrance
was addressed, or the character and condition of the body on
whose behalf it was spoken, whose leading nobles, and they
were then numerous, stood beside their advocate at the bar of
the House, we can not but feel our minds impressed with a
vivid image of a most imposing, and in some particulars a very
moving spectacle.

The first advocate of his time, who was himself a principal
party in the cause which he came to plead, stood before a
Protestant House of Commons ; while below the bar were
assembled about their counsel the heads of the Roman Catholic
aristocracy. The latter constituted a much more extensive
and differently-constituted class of men from those by whom
they have been succeeded. They had been born to wealth and
honor: they had been induced, by a sentiment of chivalrous
devotion, to attach themselves to the fortunes of an unhappy
prince. The source of their calamities was in a lofty senti-
ment. Almost all of them had been soldiers; scarce a man of
them but had carried harness on his back. They were actu-
ated by the high and gallant spirit which belongs to the pro-
fession of arms. On the banks of the Boyne, on the hill of
Aughrim, and at the gates of Limerick, they had given evi-
dences of valor, which, although unavailing, were not the less
heroic. They had been worsted, indeed ; but they had not
been subdued : they had been accustomed to consider their
privileges as secured by a great compact, and in substituting
the honor of England for the bastions of Limerick, they looked
upon their liberties as protected by still more impregnable
muniments.

It is easy to imagine the dismay, the indignation, and the

anguish, with which these gentlemen must have seen a statute

\ in rapid progress through the legislature, which would not only

\ have the effect of violating the treaty of Limerick, and reduce

\ them to a state of utter servitude, but, by holding out the

[estate of the father as a premium for the apostacy of the child,

' would inculcate a revolt against the first instincts of naturt).

4*

82 THE CATHOLIC BAK.

and the most sacred ordinances of God. Their advocate, at
least, saw the penal code in this light. " Is not this," he ex-
claimed, " against the laws of God and man, against the rules
of reason and justice ; is not this the most effectual way in the
world to make children become imdutiful, and to bring the
gray head of the parent to the grave with grief and tears V
In speaking thus, he did no more than give vent to the feelings
which, being himself a father, he must have deeply experi-
enced ; and the heart of every parent whose cause he was
pleading, must have been riven by their utterance.

If there was something imposing in the sight of so many of
the old Catholic nobility of Ireland, of so many gallant sol-
diers, gathered round their counsel in a group of venerable
figures (for most of those who had fought in the civil wars were
now old), the assembly to which they were come to offer their
remonstrances must have also presented a very striking spec-
tacle. The Irish House of Commons represented a victorious
and triumphant community. Pride, haughtiness, and disdain,
the arrogance of conquest, the appetite of unsatisfied revenge,
the consciousness of masterdom, and the determination to em-
ploy it, must have given this fierce and despotic convention a
very marked character. Most of its members, as well as their
Roman Catholic supplicants, had been soldiers ; and to the
gloom of Puritanism, to which they were still prone, they
united a martial and overbearing sternness, and exhibited the
flush of victory on their haughty and commanding aspect. To
this day, there are some traces of lugubrious peculiarity in the
descendants of the Cromwellian settlers in Ireland ; at the
period of which I speak, the children of the pious adventurers
must have exhibited still deeper gloom of visage, and a darker
severity of brow.

In addressing an assembly so constituted, and in surveying
which an ordinary man would have quailed, Sir Theobald
Butler had to perform a high and arduous duty. How must
he have felt, when, advancing to the bar of the House, he
threw his eyes around him, and beheld before him the lurid
looks and baleful countenances of the Protestant conquerors
of bis country, and saw beside him the companions of Ins

Sift TlfEOfcALi) BtTTLEB. §3

youth, the associates of his early life, many of them his own (
kindred, all of them his fellow-sufferers, clinging to him as to
their only stay, and substituting his talents for the arms which
he had persuaded them to lay down ! The men whom he had
seen working the cannon at the batteries of Limerick stood
now, with no other safeguard but his eloquence, at the mercy of
those whom they had fought in the breach and encountered in
the field. An orator of antiquity mentions that he never rose
to speak upon an important occasion without a tremor. When
the advocate of a whole people rose in the deep hush -of expecta-
tion, and in all that thrilling silence which awaits the first words
of a great public speaker, how must his heart have throbbed !

Sir Theobald Butler's speech (I dwell thus long upon the
subject, because the event which produced it has been attended
with such important consequences) comprehends almost every
reason which can be pressed against the enactment of the
penal code, as a violation of public faith. He did not, how-
ever, confine himself to mere reasoning upon the subject, but
made an attempt to touch the feelings of his Protestant audi-
tors. He has drawn a strong and simple picture of the domes
tic effects of the penal code in the families of Roman Catholics.
by transferring the estate of the father to his renegade son.
" That the law should invest any man with the power of
depriving his fellow-subject of his property would be a griev-
ance. But my son — my child — the fruit of my body, whom
I have nursed in my bosom, and loved more dearly than my
life — to become my plunderer, to rob me of my estate, to take
away my bread, to cut my throat — it is enough to make the
most flinty heart bleed to think on it. For God's sake, gentle-
men, make the case your own," &c.*

This adjuration exhibits no art of phrase, but it has nature,
which, as was observed by Dryden of Otway's plays, is, after

* Extracts from Sir Theobald Butler's speech were given about a year ago
in the Elotte newspaper, which in a series of articles on Ireland contributed to
produce that calculation upon the feeling of the Roman Catholic body recently
evinced in the debates of the French parliament. [The extracts referred to
were supplied to VEtoile by Mr. Sh il himself, with other articles (many of
them from his own pen), which were translated into English, and published
by the London press, as indicating French opinions on Irish subjects. — M.]

£4 ftffl CATHOLIC

all, the greatest beauty. Those simple words, which contained
so much truth, can not be read without emotion ; but how far
greater must have been their effect when uttered by a parent,
who was lifting up his voice to protect the sanctuaries of
nature against violation ! In what tone must a father have
exclaimed, " It would be hard from any man ; but from my
son, my child, the fruit of my body, whom I have nursed in
my bosom !" Surely, in the utterance of this appeal — not by
a mere mercenary artificer of passion, but by a man whom
everybody knew to be speaking the truth, and whose trembling
hands and quivering accents must have borne attestation to his
emotions — the sternest and most resolved of his judges must
have relented, and, like the evil spirit at the contemplation of
all the misery he was about to inflict —

" For a moment stood
Divested of his malice."

And if the hearts of the Protestant confiscators were touched,
did not the tears roll down the faces of the unfortunate Cath-
olics who stood by — did they not turn to sob in the bosom of
their children, and, clasping them in their arms, inquire, in
the dumb eloquence of that parental embrace, " whether they
would ever strike the poniard, with which the law was about
to arm them, into their breasts ?" Their advocate did not,
however, merely appeal to the sensibilities of his auditors, but
swept his hand over strings by which a still deeper vibration
must have been produced.

He assumed a loftier and a bolder tone. He raised himself
up to the full height of his mind, and, appealing to the prin-
ciples of eternal truth and justice, denounced the vengeance
of Heaven on those who should be so basely perfidious as to
violate a great and sacred compact ; and was sufficiently cour-
ageous to remind a Protestant House of Commons that the
treaty of Limerick had been signed, " when the Catholics had
swords in their hands." This was a stirring sentence, and
sent many a heart-thrilling recollection into the hearts of those
to whom it was addressed. The prince, of the conquerors must
have started, and the conquered must have looked upon hands in

TftE TREATY OF LIMERICK. 85

which there were swords no more. It is recorded of an ancient
orator, that he exercised over the minds of his heroes an influ-
ence so powerful, that his description of a battle was inter-
rupted by the exclamation of a soldier who had been present
at the engagement, and whom the spell of eloquence had car-
ried back to the field.

Even at this day, every reference to the siege of Limerick
produces an extraordinary excitation in Roman Catholic
assemblies; and if tk? descendants of those whose rights were
secured by the treaty of Limerick, recur with indignation to
the incidents, of that celebrated siege, to what a point of
excitation must the gallant cavaliers, by whom the advocate of
the Irish nation was surrounded, have been wrought, when he,
who was himself a party to that great national indenture, with
that deep and solemn tone and that lofty gravity of demeanor
for which he was remarkable, recalled the events in which
almost every man who heard him bore a conspicuous part. It
is in the remembrance of such scenes that memory may be
justly called, " The actor of our passions o'er again." I do not
think that I am guilty of any exaggeration, when I say that
in appealing to the time when the Roman Catholics had arms
in their hands, the advocate of their rights and the representa-
tive of their emotions must have brought back many a martial
recollection to the clients in -whose front he stood, and whose
cause he was so emphatically pleading. The city, from which
William at its first siege, with an army of thirty thousand men,
had been driven back — the fortress, which art and nature had
conspired to make strong, and which valor and constancy
would have rendered impregnable — must have risen before
them. All the glorious circumstance incidental to their former
occupation must have returned. The shout of battle, the roar
of the cannon, the bloody fuss, the assault and the repulse,
the devotion and abandonment, with which whole regiments
rushed through the gates, and precipitated themselves into
imaginary martyrdom — Sarsfield -upon the battlements, the
green flag floating from the citadel, and the cry of " Help from
France!" — these must have been among the recollections
which were awakened by their advocate, while he appealed to

86 THE CATHOLIC

the time " when they had arms in their hands," and stood iil
the fire of their batteries, and not at the threshold of the
House of Commons.

But, if the sentiment of martial pride was rekindled for
an instant, how quickly it must have gone out, and how soon
those emotions must have collapsed into despair. They must
have known, for the countenances of their victors must have
apprized them, that they had nothing to expect but servi-
tude and all the shame that follows it; and then, indeed,
they must have mourned over the day when, at the head of a
powerful army, in a strong fortification, with several garrison-
towns still in their possession, with a great mass of the popu-
lation ready to rush again to the field, and with a French fleet
freighted with arms and with troops in the Shannon, they had
been induced, upon the faith of a solemn compact, to lay down
their swords, and put their trust in the honor of the King and
the integrity of his people. They must have cursed the day,
when, instead of adding their bones to the remains of those
who lay slaughtered in the trenches of Limerick, they survived
to behold the Protestants of Ireland taking advantage of that
fatal surrender, and in defiance of the most solemn compacts,
in violation of a clear and indisputable treaty, not only ex-
cluding them from the honors and privileges of the state, but
wresting their property from their hands, instituting a legalized
banditti of " discoverers," exciting their children into an insur-
rection against human nature, converting filial ingratitude into
a merit, and setting up parricide as a newly-invented virtue, in
the infernal ethics of the law.

As Sir Theobald Butler had anticipated (for he intimates it
in an involuntary expression of despondency), his arguments
were of little avail, and he lived long enough to see the penal
code carried to its atrocious perfection, and chain after chain
thrown upon his country. He even survived an act of parlia-
ment by which Roman Catholics were excluded from the pro-
fession in which he had earned fortune and renown. It is a
common notion that he changed his religion in order to avert
the evils which he so powerfully described ; but I was informed
by his grandson, Mr. Augustine Butler, that he died in the reli-

S1K ttiEOfcAll) BtTTLEie. 87

gion in which he had lived,* and that his great estates became
in consequence equally divisible among his children.! He
was interred in the church-yard of St. James's church, in Dub-
lin, where a huge but rather uncouth monument has been
raised to his memory. His epitaph differs from most obituary
panegyrics, by the adherence of encomium to truth. It is
inscribed under a rude and now mutilated bust, and runs as
follows: —

Designator hac effigie
Theobaldus e gente Butlera

Hibernus Jurisconsultus

Legum, Patriae, nominis decus

Dignitate equestri donatus, non auctus

Causidicus

Argutus, concinnus, integer

Barbarie forensi, et vernacula disertus

Non partium studio

Non favoris aucupio

Non verborum lenocinio

Sed rerum pondere

Et ingenii vi insitli

Et legum scientia penitiori

Pollens

Quern lingua solers, illibata fides

Comitate et sale multo condita gravitaa

Quern vitae tenor sincerus

Et recti custos animus
Legum recondita depromere sagax

Ad famse fastigium evexere

Fortunje etiam, ni religio obstaret, facile evexissenl.
Obiit Septuagenarius XI Martii, 1720.

Notwithstanding the exclusion of Roman Catholics from
the Bar, the expedient which was adopted for the purpose
does not appear to have been found effectual. A certificate of

* Sir Theobold Butler died in March, 1720, aged seventy. — M.

t The anti-Catholic Penal code enacted, among many other things, that no
Catholic heir could profit by primogeniture, but that the real estate was equally
divisible among all the children, but that if he-turned Protestant he would then
have the whole estate, even in his father's lifetime : if a Protestant went over
to the Church of Rome, or procured another to do so, it was high treason. A
Catholic wife was allowed an increase of jointure, on becoming a Protestant,
A priest who married a Catholic to a Protestant, was liable to be hanged. — M.

$8 THE CATHOLIC BAB.

conformity was all that was required, and this certificate was
so easily obtained, that the members of the obnoxious religion
were still able to creep and steal into the profession. The
letters of Primate Boulter,* who governed Ireland for a con-
siderable time, and whose simple maxim it was to keep Ire-
land divided in order that her dependency might be secured,
give us a very curious insight into the state of the Irish Bar in
the year 1727. In a letter dated the 7th of March, 1727, he
writes: " There is a bill gone over to regulate the admission
of barrister, attorneys, six clerks, solicitors, sub-sheriffs, &c.,
which is of the last consequence to this kingdom. The prac-
tice of the law, from the top to the bottom, is at present mostly
in the hands of new converts, who give no further security
on this account than producing a certificate of their having
received the sacrament in the Church of England or Ireland,
which several of them, who were Papists in London, obtain in
the road hither, and demand to be admitted barristers in vir-
tue of it at their arrival, and several of them have Popish,
wives, and have masses said in their houses. Everybody here
is sensible of the terrible effects of this growing evil, and both
Lords and Commons are most eagerly desirous of this bill."
(Boulter's Letters, vol. i., p. 179.)

The horror entertained by his Grace of Dublin for barris-
ters, whose better halves were infected with Popery, appears
ludicrous at this day. Doctor King considered the division of
allegiance at the Bar, between the law and the fair sex, as
highly dangerous to the security of the Established Church,
and would have taken " au pie de la lettre" what Lord Ches-
terfield said of the beautiful Lady Palmer.t that she was the
only " dangerous Papist" he had ever seen in Ireland.

* Hugh Boulter was Archbishop of Armagh, Primate of Ireland, and virtual
Governor of the country, during the earlier period of the Hanoverian dynasty,
and is chiefly remarkable for having established schools for the instruction of
the Irish children ; which seminaries were eventually perverted, by the Ascen-
dency party, to purposes of proselytism. — Primate Boulter died in 1742. — M.

t The writer of this article was acquainted with Lady Palmer, when she
was upward of one hundred years of age. The admiration which Lord Ches-
terfield is known to have entertained for this lady induced me to seek an intro-
duction to her. Although rich, she occupied a small lodging in Hemy street

LADY PALMEK. 8

1 know not, however, whether the feeling by which Doctor
King was influenced, be wholly extinct. I do not mean to say
that Lord Wellesley would object to a barrister on account of

where she lived secluded and alone. Over the chimney-piece of the front
drawing-room was suspended the picture of her platonic idolater. It was a half-
length portrait, and had, I believe, been given to her by the man of whose
adoration she was virtuously vain. I was engaged in looking at this picture,
while I waited on the day of my first introduction for this pristine beauty of the
Irish court. While I gazed upon the picture of a man who united so many
accomplishments of manner and of mind, and observed the fine intellectual
smile, which the painter had succeeded in stealing upon animated canvass, I
fell into a somewhat imaginative strain of thought, and asked myself what sort
of woman " the dangerous Papist" must have been, in whom the master of the
graces had found such enchanting peril. " What a charm," I said, "must she
have possessed, upon whose face and form those blight eyes reposed in il-
luminated sweetness, — how soft and magical must have been the voice from
whose whispers those lips have hung so often, what gracefulness of mind, what
an easy dignity of deportment, what elegance of movement, what sweet vivacity
of expression, how much polished gayety and bewitching sentiment must have
been united!" I had formed to myself an ideal image of the young, the soft,
the fresh, the beautiful, and tender girl, who had fascinated the magician of so
many spells. The picture was almost complete. The Castle in all its quondam
lustre rose before me, and I almost saw my Lord Chesterfield conducting Lady
Palmer through the movements of a minuet, when the door was slowly opened,
and in the midst of a volume of smoke, which, during my phantasmagoric ima-
ginations, had not inappropriately filled the room, I beheld in her own proper
person the being, in whose ideal creation I had indulged in a sort of Pygmalian
dream. The opening of the door produced a rush of air, which caused the
smoke to spread out in huge wreaths about her, and a weird and withered form
stood in the midst of the dispersing vapor. She fixed upon me a wild and
sorceress eye, the expression of which was aided by her attitude, her black at-
tire, her elongated neck, her marked and strongly-moulded, but emaciated fea-
tures. She leaned with her long arm and her withered hand of discolored parch-
ment upon an ivory-headed cane, while she stretched forth her interrogating
face, and with a smile, not free from ghastliness, inquired my name. I men-
tioned it, and her expression, as she had been informed that I was to visit her,
immediately changed. After the ordinary formulas of civility, she placed her-
self in a huge chair, and entered at once into politics. She was a most vehe-
ment Catholic, and was just the sort of person that Sir Harcoxirt Lees would
have ducked for a rebel and a witch. Lord Chesterfield and the Catholic
question were the only subjects in which she seemed to take any interest.
Upon the wrongs done to her country, she spoke not only with energy, but with
eloquence, and with every pinch of snuff poured out a sentence of sedition.
"Steth, sir, it is not to be borne," she used to exclaim, as she lifted her figure
from the stoop of age, with her eyes flashing with fire, and struck her cane vio-

00 THft dAfrfOLlC

his " having a Popish wife, and mass said in his house ; but it
is observable that, of the three Catholic barristers who have
been promoted under his Lordship's administration, by a
strange matrimonial coincidence every one is married to a
Protestant.

The bill sent over by Primate Boulter was carried, and
Catholics were effectually excluded from the Bar. From 1725
to 1793 lawyers earnestly and strenuously professed the doc-
trines of the state ; and although upon his death-bed many
an orator of renown supplicated in a Conn aught accent for a
priest, yet his lady, whose gentility of religion was brought
into some sort of question, and who would have considered it
as utterly derogatory to set up a widow's cap to the memory of
a relapsed papist, either drowned the agonies of conscience in
the vehemence of her sorrows, or slapped the door in the face
of the intrepid Jesuit, who had adventured upon the almost
hopeless enterprise of saving the soul of the expiring counsel-
lor. The Bar gradually assumed a decidedly Protestant char-
acter; and although an occasional Catholic practised as a
conveyancer, yet none obtained any celebrity in the only
department of the law from which Roman Catholics were not
actually excluded. Indeed, they held so low a place, that it
appears to have been a kind of disrepute to have had anything
to do with them; and I remember to have read, in the cause
of Simpson against Lord Mountmorris, the deposition of a
witness, who stated as a ground for impeaching a deed, exe-
cuted by the Earl of Anglesea, that it was drawn by a Papist.
Roman Catholics were, at this period, excluded from the

lently to the ground. Wishing to turn the conversation to more interesting
matter, I told her I was not surprised at Lord Chesterfield having called her a .
" dangerous Papist." I had touched a chord, which, though slackened, was
not wholly unstrung. The patriot relapsed into the \\oman; and passing at
once from her former look and attitude, she leaned back in her chair, and draw-
ing her withered hands together, while her arms fell loosely and languidly be-
fore her, she looked up at the picture of Lord Chesterfield with a melancholy

smile. " Ah !" she said But I have extended this notice beyond all

reasonable compass. I think it right to add, after ST much mention of Lady
Palmer, that although she was vain of the admiration of Lord Chesterfield, she
took care never to lose his esteem, and that her eputation was without a
iOemish.

HALF CONCESSIONS. 91

English, as well as from the Irish Bar; but Booth, the great
conveyancer, was a Roman Catholic, and, before the professors
of his religion were admissible to the rank of counsel, Mr.
Charles Butler, of Lincoln's Inn, had obtained great fame.

In the year 1793 the great act for the relief of the Roman
Catholics was passed. It was a piece of niggard and prepoa- \
terous legislation : all, or nothing, should have been conceded./
The effect of a partial enfranchisement was to give the means \
of acquiring wealth, influence, intelligence, and power, and yet \
withhold the only legitimate means of employing them. The l
Roman Catholics were not admitted into, but brought within
reach of the constitution. They were still placed beyond the
state, and were furnished with a lever to shake it. They\,
obtained that external point d'appui from which they have \
been enabled to exercise a disturbing power. The extension /
of the elective franchise to men, who were at the same timef
declared to be ineligible to parliament, and the admission of V
Catholics to the Bar while they were denied its honorable \
reward, are conspicuous instances of impolicy.

The late Mr. George Ponsonby* was strongly impressed
with the imprudence of allowing Roman Catholics to enter the
race of intelligence, and yet shut up the goal. He felt that the
government were disciplining troops against themselves, and
insisted on the absurdity of exciting ambition, and at the same
time closing the avenues to its legitimate gratification. He
saw that, so far from conciliating the Roman Catholic body by ;
so imperfect and lame a measure of relief, their indignation \
would rather be provoked by what was refused, than their
gratitude be awakened by what was granted : desire would be
inflamed by an approach to its object, while it was denied its
natural and tranquillizing enjoyment. Mr. Ponsonby's antici-
pations were well-founded, and are going through a rapid
process of verification.

The first Roman Catholics who took advantage of the en-
nobling statute, were Mr. Donnellah, Mr. Mac Kenna, Mr.
Lynch, and Mr. Bellew. Every one of those gentlemen (quod

• Lord Chanceller of Ireland under " All the Talents" Ministry of 1806-7.
A brief memoir of him occurs in the previous volume. — JV{.

92 THE CATHOLIC BAK.

»ota, as Lord Coke says in liis occasional intimations to Junior
Par) was provided for by Government. Mr. Dounellan ob-
tained a place in the revenue ; Mr. Mac Kenna wrote some
very clever political tracts, and was silenced with a pension ;
Mr. Lynch married a widow with a pension, which was
doubled after his marriage; and Mr. Bellew is in the receipt
of six hundred pounds a year, paid to him quarterly at the
Treasury. The latter gentleman is deserving of notice.
Whether I consider him as an individual, as the representa-
tive of the old Catholic aristocracy at the Bar, as a politician,
a religionist, or a pensioner, I look upon this able, upright,
starch, solemn, didactic, pragmatical, inflexible, uncompromi-
sing, obstinate, pious, moral, good, benevolent, high-minded
and exceedingly wrong-headed person, as in every way en-
titled to regard.

Mr. William Bellew is a member of one of the most distin-
guished Roman Catholic families in Ireland. There was
formerly a peerage attached to his name, which was extin-
guished in an attainder. A baronetcy was retained. His
father, Sir Patrick Bellew, was a man of a high spirit, distin-
guished for his munificence, and that species of disastrous
hospitality, by which many a fine estate was so ingloriously
dismembered. He constituted a sort of exception among the
Catholic gentry ; for at the time when that body sank under
the weight of accumulated indignities, Sir Patrick Bellew ex-
hibited a lofty sense of his personal importance, and was suf-
ficiently bold to carry a sword. His property descended to
his eldest son, Sir Edward Bellew.* Mr. William Bellew, the
barrister, who was his second son, was sent to the Anglo-Saxon
university of Douay, whence he returned with all the alti-
tude of demeanor for which his father was remarkable, but with
a profound veneration for all constituted authorities, of what-
ever nature, kind, or degree, and with abstract tendencies to
political submission, which are by no means at variance with
a man's interests in Ireland.

* Sir Edward Bellew, who died in 1827, was M. P. for, and Lord Lieuten-
ant of, the County of Louth. He was succeeded by his son; the present Sir
Patrick Bcllew,— M,

WILLIAM BLLLEW. 93

He was one of the first Roman Catholics called to the Bar,
and I have understood from some of his contemporaries, that, as
he represented the Catholic gentry, and was considered to
take a decided lead in their proceedings, in his first appear-
ance in the Four Courts he attra?ted much notice. His gen-
eral bearing produced a sort of awe ; and it was obvious that,
as Owen Glendower says, " he was not in the roll of common
men." His lofty person, his stately walk, his perpendicular
attitude, the rectilineal position of his head, his solemnity of
gesture, the deep and meditative gravity of his expression, his
sustained and measured utterance, the deliberation of his tones,
his self-collectedness and concentration, and that condensed,
but by no means arrogant or overweening, look of superiority
by which he is characterized, fixed a universal gaze upon
him ; and from the contrast between him, and the rapid, bus-
tling, and airy manner of most of his brethren, excited a
general curiosity. Heedless of observation, and scarcely con-
scious of it, the forensic aristocrat passed through the throng
of wondering spectators, and as Horatio says of the 'Royal
Dane,

" with solemn march
Went slow and stately by them/'

There was, indeed, something spectral in his aspect. The
phantom of the old Catholic aristocracy seemed to have been
evoked in his person, while the genius of Protestant ascend-
ency shrunk before its majestic apparition. All idea of check-
ing "the growth of Popery" vanished in an instant at his
sight ; the only man who could compete with him in longitude
of dimensions being Mr. Mali any ; but that gentleman's stu-
pendous length sat uneasily upon him, whereas the soul of the
lofty Papist seemed to inhabit every department of his frame,
and would have disdained to occupy any other than its sublime
and appropriate residence. High as his post and demeanor
were, they were wholly free from affectation. With a great
deal of pride, he manifested neither insolence nor conceit.
He looked far more dignified than authoritative ; and although
a strong expression of austerity was inscribed upon his counte-
it was bv no means heartless or even severe. If I wer?

94 THE CATHOLIC BAE.

a painter and were employed to furnish illustrations of Ivan-
hoe, I do not think that I could find a more appropriate model
than Mr. Bellew for the picture of Lucas Beaumanoir. His
visage is inexorable without fierceness ; and many a time hath
he heen observed fixing his immitigable eye upon a beauty in
the dock at the assizes of Dundalk, with that expression with
which the Grand Master is represented to have surveyed the
unfortunate Jewess. His friend Mr. Mac Kenna used to ob-
serve, that "if William Bellew saw a man hanging from every
lamp-post down Capel street, in his morning walk from Great
Charles street to the Four Courts, the only question he would
ask, would be whether they were hanged according to law ?"

Mr. Bellew came with signal advantages to the Bar. He
was closely connected with the oldest and most opulent Roman
Catholic families, and was employed as their domestic counsel.
Their wills, their purchases, and marriage articles were drawn
under his inspection. It was, I have heard, not a little agree-
able to behold Mr. Bellew going through a marriage settle-
ment, where an ancient Catholic family was to be connected
with an inferior caste. In Ireland, as well as in the sister-
country, the pride of birth prevails among the Roman Catholic
gentry beyond almost any other passion. As in England we
find a universal diffusion of cousinship through the principal
Catholic houses, so the ancient blood of the Catholics of the
Pale has been, by a similar process of intermarriage, carried
through an almost uniform circulation.

This pride of birth among the Catholic gentry, when ex-
cluded from political distinction, was perfectly natural. Hav-
ing no field for the exercise of their talents, and without any
prospect of obtaining an ascent in society through their own
merits, they looked back to the achievements of their ances-
tors, and consoled themselves with the brilliant retrospect.
While a young Irish Protestant threw himself into the field of
politics, an Irish Catholic was left without the least scope for
enterprise, and had scarce any resource, but to pace up and
down the damp apartments of his family mansion, and to com-
mune with the high-plumed warriors of the Pale, who frowned
ip mouldering paint before him, The young ladies too were

WILLIAM BELLEW. 95

instructed to look with emulation on the composed visages of
their grand aunts, and to reverence the Luge circumference of
hoop in which their more sacred symmetries were encompassed
and concealed.

For a considerable time, it was possible to maintain the
dignity of the lloman Catholic families without any plebeian
intercourse ; but at last the pressure of mortgages and judg-
ments became too great, and it was requisite to save the estate
at the expense of the purity of its owner's blood. After a
struggle and a sigh, the head of an old Catholic house resigned
himself to the urgency of circumstances, and yielded to the
necessity of intermingling the vulgar stream, which had crept
through the grocers and manufacturers of the Liberty, with a
current which, however pure, began to run low. A priest, a
friend of the family — who, as matrimony is one of the seven
sacraments, thinks himself in duty bound to promote so salu-
brious a rite, is consulted. He gives a couple of taps to his
gold snuff-box, tenders a pinch to the old gentleman; protests
that there are risks in celibacy — that it is needful to husband
the constitution and the estate ; and, observing that the young
squire, though a little pale, is a pretty fellow, puts his finger
to his nose, and hints at a young damsel in New-Row (a peni-
tent of his reverence, and a mighty good kind of young woman,
not. long come from the Cork convent), with ruddy cheeks and
vigorous arms, a robust waist and antigallican toes. The
parties are brought together. The effect of juxtaposition is
notorious — most of my readers know it by experience. The.
young gentleman stutters a compliment; the heart of the
young lady and her wooden fan are in a flutter ; the question
is popped. The old people put their heads together. Con-
sideration of the marriage, high blood, and equity of redemp-
tion, upon one side ; and rude health and twenty thousand
pounds on the other. The bargain is struck ; and, to insure
the hymeneal negotiation, nothing remains but that Counsellor
Bellew should look over the settlements.

Accordingly a Galway attorney prepares the draft marriage
settlement, with a skin for every thousand, and waits on
Mr. Bellew. Laying thirty guineas on the tables, and think-

96 THE CATHOLIC BAR.

ing that upon the credit of such a fee he may presume to offer
his opinion, he commences with an ejaculation on the fall of
the good old families, until Mr. Bellew, after counting the
money, casts a Cains Marius look upon him, and awes him
into respect. He unrolls the volume of parchment, and the
eye of the illustrious conveyancer glistens at the sight of the
ancient and venerable name that stands at the head of the
indenture. But, as he advances through the labyrinth of
limitations, he grows alarmed and disturbed ; and, on arriving
at the words " on the body of the said Judy Mac Gilligan to
be begotten," he drops his pen, and puts the settlement away,
with something of the look of a Frenchman when he intimates
his perception of an unusually bad smell. It is only after an
interval of reflection, and when he has recalled the fiscal phi-
losophy of Vespasian, that he is persuaded to resume his
labors ; but does not completely recover his tranquillity of
mind until, turning the back of his brief, he marks that most
harmonious of all monosyllables, " paid," at the foot of the
consolatory stipend.

No man at the Bar is more exact, careful, technical, and
expert, in conveyancing, than Mr. Bellew. He at one time
monopolized the whole Catholic business.

Nor was it to the Roman Catholic body that his reputation
as a lawyer was confined. He deservedly obtained a very
high character with the whole public for the extent of his
erudition, his familiar knowledge of equity and of the common
law, the clearness of his statements, the ingenuity and astute-
ness of his reasoning, and for that species of calm and delib-
erative elocution which is of such importance in the Court of
Chancery.* I look upon Mr. Bellew as a man who has most

* In a book like this, chiefly devoted to legal subjects, it can not be out of
place to make a brief statement respecting the British Court of Chanceiy.
Next below the House of Lords, before which come all final appeals — the Chan-
cery Court has jurisdiction. Originally established to moderate the severity
and rectify the errors of the other Courts, its proceedings are essentially in
equity, though, at times, it can act in the capacity of a Court of common law,
though it can not summon a jury or try facts. Its power has been immense
since its establishment, the exact date of which is not known, though it is as-
certained that this Court had a separate jurisdiction on the reign of Edward

THE COURT OF CHANCERY. 97

grievously suffered by his exclusion from the inner bar, from
which nothing but his religion could have kept him. It was
in the Court of Chancery that his business lay almost entirely;

III., and is believed to have been derived from the rule of the Saxon monarchs,
when a party who thought justice was not rendered to him could appeal to the
King in Council, for his revision of the case, most of which appeals, as they
grew numerous, were transferred to a subject "learned in the law" — usually
an ecclesiastic, at that time. This Court (amid other means to defeat and pun-
ish fraud, oppression, breaches of trust, and every kind of injustice) can com-
pel a defendant to discover facts which are against his own cause. But the
great evil, arising from increase and accumulation of business as well as from
the delays of judges, has been the dilatory nature, with the consequent expense
of the proceedings requisite to obtain a decision. Under Lord EUdon, who was
Lord Chancellor for five-and-twenty years, and who doubted upon the simplest
points, though his judgments were excellent when given, the Court of Chan-
cery became a crying evil instead of a substantial good. Expenses and delays
ruined many wealthy persons who had come before this tribunal, and it caused
many a broken heart, and ruined hope. In Lord Eldon's time, owing to the
accumulation of business, the amount of property litigated in Chancery, was
eleven million pounds sterling or fifty-five million dollars. When Brougham
was in the House of Commons, he repeatedly and strongly contended for the
necessity of a Reform in the Court of Chanceiy. In 1830, Brougham became
Chancellor. " There is Brougham," said Sydney Smith, " sworn in as Chan-
cellor at noon, and laying on the table of the Lords, at six o'clock the same
day, a Bill for Chancery Reform." A great deal was attempted in this respect
— but the Lord Chancellor, who is not only a judge, but also a political leader,
as one of the Cabinet, besides having to sit as Speaker of the House of Lords,
is unable to do everything, unless he had fifty hands and twice fifty heads. The
separation of the judicial from political labors of the Chancery has been sug-
gested, and will probably take place. Lord Brougham, during the four years
he presided, disposed of nearly all the arrears of his predecessors, Eldon and
Lyndhurst, and cleared oflT, by promp*t adjudication, the cases which originated
in his own time and were ripe for decision. His successors (Cottenham, Lynd-
hurst, and Truro), did not follow in his steps ; ill-health, pre-occupation with
other matters, and disinclination to labor prevented them. In 1852, during
nine months of which Lord St. Leonards was Chancellor, he manifested a strong
inclination to reform the Chancery system; his successor, Lord Cranworth,
appears disposed to let matters rest as they are. But there is a vast improve-
ment on the system as it was in Lord Eldon's doubtful era. In his time, and
greatly against his consent, a Vice-Chancellor was appointed, to assist the
Chancellor — there now are three, besides two Lord Justices of Appeal, while
a great deal of equity business continues to be done by the Master of the Rolls.
The delaying course of referring cases to the Masters in Chancery, for inquiry,
is in course of change ; the number of Masters is lessened, and on the judges
themselves will principally rest the immediate inquiry into, and examination of

VOL. II.— 5

93 THE CATHOLIC BAR.

and in that Court, it is absolutely necessary to have a silk
gown, in order to be listened to with ordinary attention. The
reason is this : not that Lord Manners pays no respect to any
individual who is not in silk attire, but because the multitude
of King's Counsel, who precede a lawyer in a stuff gown, of
necessity exhaust the subject, and leave him the lees and
dregs of the case.*

Mr. Bellew has lived to see his inferiors in talent and in
knowledge raised above his head, and it is now his doom, at
the end of a cause, to send his arguments like spent shot, after
the real contest has been decided, and the hot fire is over. His
situation would be very different, indeed, if it were his office
to state cases and open important motions, for which no man
is more eminently qualified. The whole Bar feel that he
labors under a great hardship in this particular, for which a
pension of six hundred pounds sterling a-year affords a very
inadequate compensation. Mr. Bellew's pension of six hundred
pounds has effectually excluded him from all useful inter-
ference in Roman Catholic affairs ; for, whenever he opposes
a popular measure, it is sufficient to refer to his salary at the
Castle, in order to excite the popular feeling against him. He
has, however, upon this subject, been a good deal misrepre-
sented, and it is only an act of justice to him to state the facts.

The Catholic aristocracy supported the Union. They were
led astray by a promise from Lord Cornwallis, and by such an
intimation from Pitt as induced him to resign.f I do not

facts. With such " aids and appliances to boot," it is natural to expect that
in future, cases will not be before the Court for forty, thirty, or even twenty
years : one case was actually undecided after it had been over a centuiy in the
Court. — M.

* At the Irish, as well as at the English bar, no counsel is allowed to go over
the same line of argument taken by another. Therefore, pre-audience being
the right of those who have patents of precedency, or wear the silk gown or the
coif, the junior in a stuff gown usually finds the subject exhausted, by previous
speakers, before he has an opportunity of speaking. Now and then, a junior
makes a hit by coming out with points of law or quoting cases neglected by hie
seniors — but this is rare. — M.

i There is no doubt that Pitt, when he intrigued to effect the Union, premised
that it should be followed by Catholic Emancipation. When he found that
George III. would not allow him to fulfil this promise, Pitt at once re-

Mfc. fcELLEW. 9

Intend to discuss tlie merits of tlie question, but can readily
conceive that many a good man might have advocated the
measure, without earning for his motto, " Vendidit Me aura
patnam"* I am fully convinced, from what I know of the
honorable cast of Mr. Bellew's mind, that he never did pro-
mote the measure from any sordid views to his own interest,
Lord Castlereagh was well aware of the importance of securing
the support of the leading Roman Catholic gentry, and the place
of assistant-barrister was promised to Mr. Bellew. Whether the
promise was made before or after the Union, I am not aware;
nor is it of consequence excepting we adopt the scholastic
distinction .of Father Foigard, in his argumentative assault
upon Cherry's virtue: "If it be before, it is a bribe; if it be
after, it is only a gratification." At all events, I am con-
vinced that Mr. Bellew did nothing at variance with honor
and conscience from any mercenary consideration.

The place of assistant-barrister became vacant: Lord Cas-
tlereagh was reminded of his engagement, when, behold ! a
petition, signed by the magistrates of the county to which Mr.
Bellew was about to be nominated, is presented to the Lord-
Lieutenant, praying that a Roman Catholic should not be
appointed to any judicial office, and intimating their determina-

signed — as it was made, with an impression on his mind, cunningly kept up
by the King, that there would be no obstacle, on the part of Royalty, to admit-
ting the Catholics within the pale of the Constitution. — Lord Comwallis, men-
tioned in the text, was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland during the insurrection of
1798, and went as plenipotentiary to France, in 1801, in which capacity he
signed the treaty of Amiens. His whole public course was distinguished. In
1770, he was one of the four young peers who joined Lord Camden in a prot-
est against the taxation of America, which made Lord Mansfield sneeringly
say, " Poor Camden ! he could only get four boys to support him" — yet, as a
military man, Lord Cornwallis had a command in the American war, where
he concluded his operations by being out-generalled by Washington, to whom
he surrendered himself and his army. In 1786, he went out to India, as Gov
ernor-General and commander-in-chief, where he distinguished himself against
Tippoo Saib. On his return, he was made a Marquis, in 1792. He was again
gent to India in 1804, where he died, in 1805, aged sixty-seven. He was pop-
ular in Ireland, as well as in India, having certainly exerted himself to check
the inhumanity of the triumphant royalists. He had no genius, but a great
deal of common sense — which is more rare and valuable. — M.
* He sold his country for gold. — M.

JOO THE CATHOLIC BAR.

tion not to act witli him. The government were a good deal
embarrassed by tins notification ; and in order at once to fulfil
the spirit of their contract, and not to give offence to the
Protestant magistrates, a pension equivalent to the salary of a
chairman was given to Mr. Bellew, and he was put in the
enjoyment of the fruits of the office, without the labor of
cultivation.*

That it was reprehensible to tax the people with an addi-
tional pension on the part of the Irish government, out of the
miserable dread of irritating a few Protestant gentlemen, can
not, I think, be questioned : and but few persons will be in-
clined to attach any great blame to Mr. Bellew for having ac-
cepted of this compensation. It would be very idle, however,
to enter into any explanation upon these subjects with the
Roman Catholic body, among whom the very name of pen-
sioner, connected as it is with all sorts of back door and post-
ern services at the Castle, carries a deep stigma. No matter
how well Mr. BelleM' may argue a point at a Catholic assem-
bly ; no matter how cogent and convincing his arguments may

* The County judges in Ireland, who virtually preside at Quarter Sessions,
while they are supposed only to advise the justices of the peace who sit (ignorant
of law) upon the Bench, are called Assistant-Barristers, an appellation which
by no means indicates their position and duties. Richard Martin, formerly of
the Irish and now of the English bar — a man of great legal acumen, clear and
reasoning eloquence, ready wit, and vast personal weight — tells a good an-
ecdote illustrative of this. Henry Deane Freeman, an eminent lawyer, was
"Assistant Barrister" in one of the Connaught counties, and went the Munster-
Circuit, as a practising lawyer. He was prosecuting a man accused of robbery,
who produced as witness to his character, another worthy, instantly recognised
by Mr. Freeman, as an old acquaintance. In cross-examination this man was
asked, " Have not you stood in the dock, as a criminal?" — The witness sulkily
replied, " What's that to you ?" — Mr. Freeman ; " Youmust answer me. Were
not you tried in Galway for robbery?" Witness: "Well, if I was, I didn't
do it." — Mr. Freeman: " Of course not — the number of innocent culprits is
immense. Were not you convicted and sent to jail for six months?" — By
this time, the witness had recognised his examiner, who, as Assistant-Barrister
in Galway, had tried and sentenced him. Turning to the judge, with a side-
long look of contempt at Mr. Freeman, he said, sotto voce, as if he were confi-
dentially communicating valuable information, " My Lord ! you must not mind
what that follow says. He's an imposter. He isn't a real banister. He's
only an ^w-sistant Barrister, and not worth your notice." — M,

ME. fcEltEW. 101

be in favor of a more calm and moderate tone of proceedings ;
the moment Mr. O'Connell lifts up his strong arm, and with
an ejaculation of integrity " thanks his God that he is not a
pensioner !" all the Douay syllogisms of Mr. Bellew vanish at
the exclamation, and yells and shouts assail the retainer of
government from every side. Had he the eloquence of De-
mosthenes, the clinking of the gold would be heard amid the
thunder.

Yet I entertain no doubt that Mr. Bellew has not, in his
political conduct, been actuated by any mean and dishonest
motive. I utterly dissent from him in his views, principles,
and opinions; but I believe that he is only acting in confor-
mity with impressions received at a very early period, which
his education and habits tended not a little to confirm. His
first opinions were formed at a period when the Roman Catho-
lic aristocracy was actuated by a spirit very different from
that which it has lately evinced. Much condemnation has
been attached to that body for their want of vigor in the con-
duct of Catholic affairs. But allowances ought to be made for
them. The penal code had, after a few years, ground the gen-
try almost to powder. They lived in a state of equal terror
and humiliation. From their infancy they were instructed to
look upon every Protestant with alarm ; for it was in the
power of the meanest member of that privileged class to file a
bill of discovery, and strip them of their estates. At their
ordinary meals, they must have regarded their own children
with awe, and felt that they were at their mercy.

Swift represents the whole body as little better than hewers
of wood and drawers of water. The complication of indignities
to which they were exposed must necessarily have generated'
bad moral influences ; and accordingly we find in their petitions
and remonstrances a tone of subserviency at which their de-
scendants would blush. Even after the penal code was re-
laxed, and they were restored to the rank of citizens, they
preserved the attitude of liumilify to which they had bee
accustomed ; and when the load which they had carried s
long was taken off, they retained a stoop. At length, how-
ever, they stand erect in their country ; and, with very few

1 02 THE OATflOLIO BAR.

exceptions, exhibit tlie same spirit as the great mass of the
people.

Lord Fingall, though prevented by his health from taking
an active part in public affairs, gives evidence of his assent
to the bold and vigorous course of measures adopted by the
body, of which he is the hereditary head, by the presence of
his son. The latter, Lord Killeen, manifests as much energy
and determination, as he does sound sense and admirable dis-
cretion.* Lord G-ormanstown has thrown himself with en-
thusiasm into the national cause, and feels the injuries of his
country with a deep and indignant sensibility ;t and even Lord
Kenmare, whose love of retirement excludes him from the
bustle of public meetings, lends to the Catholic Association
the authority of his name, and shows that the spirit of patriot-
ism has penetrated the deep woods of Killarney, in which his
lordship and his excellent lady (the sister of Mr. Wilmot Hor-
ton) are connubially embowered-! I should not omit to add,

* The late Earl of Fingall was the Catholic Peer who, at the Royal visit to
Ireland in 18^1, was made a Knight of St Patrick by George IV. In the poem
called " The Irish Avatara," in ridicule of the servility of all ranks and creeds on
this occasion, Byron asks

" Will thy yard of blue riband, poor Fingall, recall

The fetters from millions of Catholic limbs ?"

The barony of Killeen dates as early as 1181. The Earldom was created in
1628, and Lord Fingall was made a peer of the United Kingdom in 1831. He
died in July, 1826. His son, Lord Killeen, who is Lord Lieutenant of Meath,
represented that county in 1831, and took a prominent part in politics, before
the Catholic Relief Bill was passed, in 1829. He is a Privy Counsellor of Ire-
land.—M.

t An ancestor of Viscount Gormanstown sided with James II., in Ireland,
and after his death William's government passed an outlawry against him for
high treason. The title ceased to be legally recognised, but in August, 1800,
on proceedings taken in the Court of King's Bench, by consent of the Crown,
the outlawry was reversed, and Jenico Preston received a writ of summons as
a peer, and is the twelfth Viscount. He took part with O'Connell in the agi-
tation preceding Emancipation. — M.

\ The ancestor of the Earl of Kenmare received a peerage from James IL
which was not recognised, as it was conferred after that Monarch had lost the
thrme. In 1800, the Earldom was created anew. In 1841, Lord Kenmare
was made a British peer. After Emancipation, he took little part in politics,
but was a Catholic and a Whig. He died in the autumn of 1853. The Ken-

MR. BELLEW.

that Sir Edward Bellew and his son, who is a young man of
very considerable abilities, and likely to make a distinguished
figure, displayed during the late election for the county of
Louth great public spirit, energy, and determination.

But amid this almost universal change in the general tem-
perature of the country, amid this general ascent of the mer-
curial spirit of the people, Mr. William Bellew remains at
zero. Not the smallest influence is perceptible in the cold
rigidity of his opinions. True to the doctrine of non-resist-
ance, he brings up in its support the whole barbarous array
of syllogistic forms with which his recollections of Douay can
supply him. It is in vain that the rapid progress of the Cath-
olic cause is urged against him: you appeal in vain to the
firmness, union, and organization of the people, which have
been effected through the Catholic Association : the insurrection
of the peasantry against their landlords, and the consequent
sense of their own rights with which they have begun to be
impressed, are treated with utter scorn by this able dialecti-
cian, who meets you at every step with his major drawn from
religion, and his minor derived from passive obedience, and
disperses your harangue with his peremptory conclusion. Nor
is it to speculation that he confines his innate reverence
for the powers that be; for after the dissolution of the old
Roman Catholic Association by an act of Parliament, when
an effort was making to raise another body out of its ruins, of
his own accord Mr. Bellew gratuitously published a letter, in
the public journals, to demonstrate to the Attorney-General
that it would be legal to put it down. In this view Mr. Plun-
ket does not appear to have concurred.

mare estates include some of the finest parts of Killaruey scenery, and the Earl,
who was not an absentee, was an excellent landlord. — Sir Robert Wilmot Hor-
ton, who assumed the latter name on marriage with an heiress — a very lovely
woman, upon whom Lord Byron wrote the lines commencing
" She walks in beauty — like the light

Of cloudless climes and stormy skies,

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes ;"

was an earnest advocate for Emigration, went to Ceylon as Governor, an^
died in 1841.— M.

104: THE CATHOLIC

Notwithstanding the censure which I have intimated of Mr.
Bellew's political tendencies and opinions, I repeat, and that
sincerely and unaffectedly, that I entirely acquit him of all
deliberate corruption. His private life gives an earnest of in-
tegrity which I can not question. It is, in all his individual
relations in society, deserving of the most unqualified enco-
mium. It would be a deviation from delicacy, even for the pur-
poses of praise, to follow Mr. Bellew through the walks of
private life. Suffice it to say, that a more generous, amiable,
and tender-hearted man is not to be found in his profession,
and underneath a frozen and somewhat rugged surface, a
spring of deep and abundant goodness lives in his mind.

If in the hasty writing of the present sketch, I have allowed
grotesque images in connection with Mr. Bellew to pass across
my mind, I have " set down naught in malice ;" and if I have
ventured on a smile, that smile has not been sardonic. In
addition to the other qualities of Mr. Bellew for which he
merits high praise, I should not omit his sincere spirit of reli-
gion. He is one of those few who unite with the creed of the
Pharisee the sensibilities of the Samaritan. Mr. Bellew is a
devout and unostentatious Roman Catholic, deeply convinced
of the truth of his religion, and most rigorous in the practice
of its precepts. The only requisite which he wants to give
him a complete title to spiritual perfection, is one in which
some of his learned brethren are not deficient ; and it can not
be said that he " has given joy in heaven," upon the principle
on which so many barristers have the opportunity of adminis-
tering to the angelic transports. One of the results of his
having been always equally moral and abstemious as at pres-
ent is, that his dedication to religion attracts no notice. If
another barrister receives the sacrament, it is bruited through
town; and at all the Catholic parties, the ladies describe,
with a pious minuteness, the collected aspect, the combined
expression of penitence and humility, the clasped hands, and
the uplifted eyes of the counsellors; while the devout Mr.
Bellew, who goes through the same sacred exercise, passes
without a comment.

In truth, I should not myself know that Mr. Bellew was a

MR. BELLEW. 105

man of such strong religious addictions, but for an incident
which put me upon the inquiry. Upon Ash-Wednesday, it is
the practice among pious Catholics to approach the altar; and
while he repeats in a solemn tone, "Remember, man, that thou
art dust," with the ashes which he carries in a vase the priest
impresses the foreheads of those who kneel before him with
the sign of the cross.

Some two or three years ago, I recollect the court was kept
waiting for Mr. Bellew, and the Master of the Rolls began to
manifest some unusual symptoms of impatience, when at last
Mr. Bellew entered, having just come from his devotions; and
such was his haste from chapel, that he had omitted to efface
the "memento mori" from his brow. The countenance of this
gentleman is in itself sufficiently full of melancholy reminis-
cences; but when the Master of the Rolls, raising his eyes
from a notice which he was diligently perusing, looked him
full in the face, he gave an involuntary start. The intimation
of judicial astonishment directed the general attention to the
advocate ; and traced in broad sepulchral lines, formed of
ashes of ebony in the very centre of Mr. Bellew's forehead,
and surmounted by an ample and fully-powdered wig, the
black and appalling emblem. The burning cross upon the
forehead of the sorcerer, in " The Monk," could not have pro-
duced a more awful effect. The Six Clerks stood astonished ;
the Registrar was petrified ; the whiskers of Mr. Daniel
M'Kay, the Irish Vice-Chancellor, stood on end ; and while
Mr. Driscoll explained the matter to Mr. Sergeant Lefroy, Sir
William M'Mahon with some abruptness of tone declared that
he would not go beyond the motion.*

* Sir William M'Mahon, appointed Master of the Rolls in Ireland, through
the influence of his brother, Sir John, Private Secretary to George IV. when
Regent, was anything but a lawyer. Mr. Sheil's first wife was Miss O'Haharon,
ttiece to Sir William. — M.

MICHAEL O'LOGHLIN.

" COUNSELLOR O'LOGHLIN, my motion is on, in the Rolls !"
1 Oh, Counsellor, I'm ruined for the want of you in the Com-
i'ion Pleas!" "For God's sake, Counsellor, step up for a
moment to Master Townsend's office !" " Counsellor, what will
I do without you in the King's Bench !" " Counsellor O'Logh-
lin, Mr. O'Grady is carrying all before him in the Court of
Exchequer !" Such were the simultaneous exclamations, which,
upon entering the Hall of the Four Courts, at the beginning
of last term, I heard from a crowd of attorneys, who sur-
rounded a little gentleman, attired in a wig and gown, and
were clamorously contending for his professional services,
which they had respectively retained, and to which, from the
strenuousness of their adjurations, they seemed to attach the
utmost value.

Mr. O'Loghlin stood in some suspense in the midst of this
riotous competition. "While he was deliberating ty which of
the earnest applicants for his attendance he should addict
himself, I had an opportunity to take notes of him. He had
at first view a very juvenile aspect. His figure was light —
his stature low, but his form compact, and symmetrically put
together. His complexion was fresh and healthy, and inti-
mated a wise acquaintance with the morning sun, more than a
familiarity with the less salubrious glimmerings of the midnight,
lamp. His hair was of sanded hue, like that of his Danish
forefathers, from whom his name, which in Gaelic signifies
Denmark, as well as his physiognomy, intimates his descent.
Although at first he appeared to have just passed the boun-
daries of boyhood, yet upon a closer inspection all symptoms

BAR ASSIZE COSTUME. 107

of puerility disappeared. His head is large, and, from the
breadth and altitude of the forehead, denotes a more than
ordinary quantity of that valuable pulp, with the abundance
of which the intellectual power is said to be in measure. His
large eyes of deep blue, although not enlightend by the flash-
ings of constitutional vivacity, carry a more professional ex-
pression, and bespeak caution, sagacity, and slyness, while his
mouth exhibits a steadfast kindliness of nature, and a tran-
quillity of temper, mixed with some love of ridicule, and,
although perfectly free from malevolence, a lurking tendency
to derision.* An enormous bag, pregnant with brefs, was
thrown over his shoulder. To this prodigious wallet of litiga-
tion on his back, his person presented a curious contrast.

At the moment I surveyed him, he was surrounded by an
aggregate meeting of attorneys, each of whom claimed a title
paramount to " the Counsellor," and vehemently enforced their
respective rights to his exclusive appropriation. He seemed
to be at a loss to determine to which of these amiable expos-
tulators his predilections ought to be given. I thought that
he chiefly hesitated between Mr. Richard Scott, the protector

* Mr. O'Loghlin's appearance was very distinguished. He had clear blue
eyes, which almost seemed to smile, if I may so express it. His light hair
curled closely and crisply on a head which was beautifully set upon his should-
ers. His figure was compact and light, and, as much as any one whom I rec-
ollect on the Munster Circuit, his neatness of attire evidenced that he cultivated
the graces. In those days, barristers wore neither wigs nor gowns in the
Assize Courts, on circuit, and thus every one could notice their " human face
divine," without the professional accompaniments which so much change its
expression. Mr. O'Conneil very frequently wore a green sporting jacket, in
the Assize Court — but his usual attire was the "customary suit of solemn
black." He was careful, and rather felicitous, in the tie of his white cravat,
but, when he warmed in a speech, he used to seize this article of his dress and
pull it on one side or the other, occasionally varying the action, by twitching
his black wig from right to left, and back again, as if to adjust it properly on
his head. — Mr. Wolfe, who subsequently became Chief Baron of the Excheq-
uer, presented a marked contrast to O'Loghlin and O'Conneil. He was care-
less in his attire, wore his garments as if he never had consulted a mirror, and
had a habit of thrusting his long hands through his dark hair. He was tall in
stature, awkward and angular in his movements, and swarthy in complexion
His voice, like that of most Irish barristers, was clear and strong ; his utterance
pood; and his occasional emphacising very effective with juries. — M.

108 MICHAEL O'LOGHLIN.

of the subject in Ennis, and Mr. Edward Hickman, the patron
of the crown, upon the Connaught circuit. Ned, a loyalist of
the brightest water, had hold of him by one shoulder, while
Dick, a patriot of the first magnitude, laid his grasp upon the
other. Between their rival attractions, Mr. O'Loghlin stood
Avith a look, which, so far from intimating that either of " the
two charmers" should be away, expressed regret at his inabil-
ity to apportion himself between these fascinating disputants
for his favors. Mr. Scott, whose countenance was inflamed
with anxiety for the numerous clients, exhibited great vehe-
mence and emotion. His meteoric hair stood up, his quick
and eager eye was on fire, the indentations upon his forehead
were filled with perspiration, and the whole of his strongly
Celtic visage was moved by that honorable earnestness, which
arises from a solicitude for the interest of those who intrust
their fortunes to his care. Ned Hickman, whose countenance
never relinquishes the expression of mixed finesse and drol-
lery for which it is remarkable, excepting when it is laid down
for an air of profound reverence for the Attorney-General, was
amusingly opposed to Mr. Scott ; for Ned holds all emotion to
be vulgar,, and, on account of its gentility, hath addicted him-
self to self-control.

Mr. O'Loghlin, as I have intimated, seemed for some time
to waver between them, but at length Mr. Hickman, by virtue
of a whisper, accompanied by a look of official sagacity (for
he is one of the crown solicitors), prevailed, and was carrying
Mr. O'Loghlin off in triumph, when a deep and rumbling sound
was heard to issue from the Court of Exchequer, and shortly
after, there was seen descending its steps, a form of prodigious
altitude and dimensions, in whose masses of corpulency, which
were piled up to an amazing height, I recognised no less emi-
nent a person than Bumbo Green.* He came like an ambula-

* The individual known as " Bumbo" Green, was well known, in the Irish
law-Courts, some five-and-twenty years ago. I saw him once — and to see was
to remember. He was an attorney in good practice ; hailing, I believe, from
the west of Ireland. He knew the private affairs of three fourths of the estated
gentlemen in the counties of Galway and Clare, and no lawsuit of any impor-
tance was entered into, in that part of the world, without Mr. Gieen being em-

BUMBO GREEN. 109

tory hill. This enormous heap of animation approached to
put in his claim to Mr. O'Loghlin. Bumbo had an action,
which was to be tried before Chief Baron O'Grady against
the proprietor of the mail-coach to Ennis, for not having
provided a vehicle large enough to contain him. Mr. O'Logh-
lin was to state his case. Bumbo had espied the capture
which Ned Hickman had made of his favorite counsel. It
was easy to perceive, from the expression of resolute sever-
ity which sat upon his vast and angry visage, that he was de-
termined not to acquiesce in this unwarrantable proceeding.
As he advanced, Ned Hickman stood appalled, and, conscious
of the futility of remonstrance, let loose the hold which he
had upon the Counsellor, while the latter, with that involun-
tary and somewhat reluctant, but inevitable submission, which
is instinctively paid to great by little men, obeyed the nod
of his enormous employer, and, with the homage which the
Attorney-General for Lilliput might be supposed to entertain
for a solicitor from Brobdignag, passively yielded to the do-
ployed, on one side or the other. He was " a noticeable man" (to use Cole-
ridge's phrase) — but chiefly on account of his immense size. The great Dan-
iel Lambert died before my time, so that I can not personally compare him with
Bumbo Green ; — I suspect that in corporeal extent there could not have been
much difference. Mr. Green was the biggest man I ever saw. He was tall,
but, from his obesity, appeared below the ordinary stature. He had a smiling,
winning manner, and was liked, for his good temper and fun, by every one. To
see him attempt to sit down on the attorney's narrow bench was ludicrous in
the extreme. What is called " the small of the back" he was not possessor of,
and therefore to rest upon a narrow seat was as hopeless a task for him, as it
would have been for a cherub — but from quite a different cause, "Bumbo"
Green having a redundancy of what cherubs are so deficient in, that it is evident
they never can sit for their portraits ! Bumbo Green flourished in the ante-
railway era, and, on a journey, had to occupy and pay for two seats in the
stage-coach. On one occasion, he ordered his servant to take two seats foi
him in the mail-coach from Ennis to Dublin. The man executed the command,
but, being a rather green hand, only a few days in Green's employment, com*
mitted a trifling mistake. When Bumbo Green went to the coach-office, he
found all the inside seats occupied, except one. His servant not knowing his
habit, had taken the seats — one outside, and the other within! — Bumbo
Green, like nearly all very stout men whom I have ever known, was fond of
dancing, and danced lightly too. He had a great many good qualities, and
the perpetual sunshine of good temper gleamed brightly over them all.— M.

HO MICHAEL O'LOGHLIN.

minion, and followed into the Exchequer the gigantic waddlo
of Bumbo Green.

But a truce to merriment. The merits of Mr. O'Loghlin,
with whom I open this continuation of the Sketches of the
Catholic Bar, are of a character which demand a serious and
most respectful consideration. He is not of considerable
standing, and yet is in the receipt of an immense income,
which the most jealous of his competitors will not venture to
insinuate that he does not deserve. He is in the utmost
demand in the Hall of the Four Courts, and is among the very
best of the commodities which are to be had in that staple of
the mind. He is admitted, upon all hands, to be an excellent
lawyer, and a master of the practice of the courts, which is of
far greater importance than the black and recondite erudition,
to which so many barristers exclusively devote so many years
of unavailing labor. The questions to which deep learning is
\ applicable are of frequent occurrence, while points connected
with the course and forms of legal proceedings arise every
Jay, and afford to a barrister, who has made them his study,
an opportunity of rendering himself greatly serviceable to his
clients. It is not by displays of research upon isolated occa-
sions, that a valuable and money-making reputation is to be
established. " Practice," as it is technically called, is the
alchemy of the Bar. When it is once ascertained that a law-
yer is master of it, he becomes the main resource of attorneys,
who depend upon him for their guidance through the mazes
of every intricate and complicated case. Mr. O'Loghlin has
Tidd at his fingers' ends, and is, besides, minutely acquainted
with that unwritten and traditional practice which governs
Irish justice ; and which, not having been committed to books,
is acquired by an unremitting attention to what is going on in
court.*

* Mention has been made, in a previous note, of the rates of payment to the
judges, varying from eight hundred to one thousand pounds sterling a year
(the salaries of Irish Assistant-Barristers, Scottish Sheriffs, and English County
Court Judges), to ten thousand pounds sterling per annum, the amount fixed,
by Act of Parliament, as the Lord-Chancellor's official income. Those who
ore. accustomed to the present very small remuneration allowed to the occu-
pants of judicial seats in the United States may consider the British payment

BRITISH SYSTEM OF JUDICATURE. ill

It is not to be considered, from the praise bestowed upon
Mr. O'Loghlin in this most useful department of his profession,
that he does not possess other and very superior qualifications.

as extravagant — especially, as the offices (with the exception of the Chancel-
lorship, which is political as well as legal) are held for life, or during good be-
havior, which is the same. Added to this is the system of granting pensions
or retiring allowances to the judges — amounting to nearly two thirds of their
annual salaries — after fifteen years' service or in the event of earlier retire-
ment from ill health. The British plan is based upon a very broad principle —
namely, that of tempting the very best lawyers to become judges, by making it
worth their while to surrender the great incomes which they can earn at tho
bar. In Great Britain and Ireland, a lawyer in full practice may earn from
three thousand to twelve thousand pounds sterling per annum — some have ob-
tained more. To tempt any of these men, in the prime of life and the fullness
of profitable labor, to assume the ermine of the judge instead of the gown of
the banister, there are three or four conjunct inducements. There is a perma-
nent station of honorable rank secured to him who becomes a judge. There is
a certain income, which, though far lower than he may have previously earned,
is obtained in comparative ease and repose. There is the removal of all doubt
as to the future — for a failure of health may assail the most active lawyer, and
speedily incapacitate him from future exertion, whereas, when a judge, he may
retire after a ceitain length of public service, provided for, during the residue
of life, by the bountiful gratitude of the public, which also provides for his fu-
ture, in case of his health breaking up. On the bench, it is true, a lawyer does
not wholly enjoy " otium cum dignitate," — for the judge, if he do his duty,
has no sinecure. But he is removed from the cares, the bustle, the struggles,
which are inseparable from the active life of a busy lawyer, and which form
the wear and tear of his mind, and he assumes a position of dignified and hon-
orable labor, in the discharge of duties more important than those of an advo-
cate, while they are of a different and less mind-oppressing order. A seat
upon the judicial bench, therefore, is the object of a British lawyer's honorable
ambition, for which he strives and competes — not by linking himself with any
political party, not by descending to canvassing or solicitation, but by knowl-
edge of the laws, by industry, and by unimpeachable conduct. These judicial
appointments are virtually held for life, because the becoming entitled to a
pension after fifteen years' service, does not necessarily cause a judge to retire
at the expiration of that period. For the most part, we find the judges con-
tinuing in office to the end. Of late years there have been only two retirements —
Erskine (son of the Chancellor) from ill health, and, more recently, Patteson,
from deafness. It is to the credit of George III. (who had the good sense,
amid much obtuseness, sometimes to take adviee) to commence his reign, in 1760,
by recommending Parliament to enact that the judges should not be removable, as
before, by the demise of the Sovereign cancelling their Commissions. It had
been the custom to issue new Commissions, in such cases, and then a judge
lyho had rendered himself obnoxious by independence, might be displaced, a"

112 MICHAEL O'LOGHLIN.

He is familiar with every branch of the law, and has his
knowledge always at command. There are many whose
learning lies in their minds, like treasure in rusty coffers which
it is a toil to open, or masses of bullion in the vaults of the
Bank of Ireland, unfit for the purposes of exchange, and diffi-
cult to be put into circulation. Mr. O'Loghlin bears his wealth
about him — he can immediately apply it — and carries his
faculties like coined money, " in numerate lialct" He is not
a maker of sentences, and does not impress his phrases on the
memory of his hearers; but he has what is far better than
what is vulgarly designated as eloquence. He is perfectly
fluent, easy, and natural. His thoughts run in a smooth and
clear current, and his diction is their appropriate channel/
His perceptions are exceedingly quick, and his utterance is,
therefore, occasionally rapid ; but, although he speaks at times
with velocity, he never does so with precipitation. He is
extremely brief, and indulges in no useless amplification.

matter of routine, on the accession of a new sovereign. The result has been
that, since this independence has thus been established, we have had some re-
markable instances where a judge has acted directly in opposition to the desires
and interests of the Government. For example, Lord Camden (when Chief
Justice of the Common Pleas, in 1763) decided that the Secretary of State had
acted illegally, in arresting John Wilkes, on a general warrant — which ought
not to be issued except in the urgent case of high treason. So, a few years ago,
Lord Chief Justice Denman's denial, as a constitutional lawyer (in re Stock
dale v. Howard) that either House of Parliament had a right to publish libels,
as part of their proceedings, and to authorize their public sale. In England, there
are few instances of a judge soiling his ermine by truckling to Power. I rec-
ollect only two instances in my own time. Once, on the trial of "William Hone
for publishing parodies on parts of the Bible (his real offence being that he
had ridiculed the Prince Regent) when Lord Ellenborough actually desired the
jury to bring in a verdict of guilty, which they declined doing. The other,
during the trial of the Chartist rioters, when Lord Abinger, who tried the case,
acted more like the prosecuting counsel than the judge, and roundly abused
the prisoners on account of their politics. But in Ireland, where there are
comipt sheriffs and packed juries, partisan judges have not been so r-~\re.
That class did not cease with Lord Norbury: it still exists. In questions be-
tween man and man, the bulk of the Irish judges have shown praiseworthy im-
partiality. When it was the Government against the subject, the case some-
times became different. The State Trials of 1844 and 1848, were conducted
in a manner which reminded us of 1798, and which would have almost driver
England into insurrection, had it occurred there. — M«

BTANDISH O'GRADY. 113

There is not the smallest trace of affectation in anything
which he either does or says; and it is surprising with what
little appearance of exertion he brings all the powers of his
mind into play. His points are put with so much brevity, sim-
plicity, and clearness, that he has, of necessity, become a great
favorite with the Judges, who give him a willing audience,
because he is sure to be pertinent and short ; and having said
all that is fitting to be said, and no more, has immediately
done. He is listened to the more readily, because he is appa-
rently frank and artless ; but he merely puts on a show of
candor, for few possess more suppleness and craft.

No man adapts himself with more felicity to the humors and
the predispositions of the judges whom he addresses. Take,
for example, the Exchequer, where, both on the law and equity
sides of the court, he is in immense business. He appeals to
the .powerful understanding, and sheer common-sense, of
Standish O'Grady,* in whom Rhadamanthus and Sancho

* Of Standish O'Grady, Chief-Baron of the Irish Exchequer, from 1803 to
1831, a notice has already been given (vol i., p. 135), but an anecdote can
scarcely be out of place here. He had a caustic wit, which was the more
keen because ever unobtrusive. The quiet manner in which the Chief-Baron
would insult a man, barbed the shaft. For example, a certain Mr. Burke
Bethell was at the Irish bar. He had ability, learning-, eloquence, and indus-
try, but was one of the men who appeared as if born under an evil star, and
never could get on. It was stated, and believed, that he took business at any
rate — that is, he would initial a brief marked two, five, or ten guineas, as if
he had received that amount (for without such proof of payment the taxing-
master would strike the item out of the attorney's bill of costs), and accept a
fourth of the nominal sum. This had reached the ears of O'Grady, who had
never known the want of money, and had a lofty idea of what is called " the
dignity of the profession." On one occasion, Burke Bethell had the luck, by
some accident, to receive a brief in some small case in which the Crown was
seeking penalties, under the Excise laws, from some fiscal delinquent. The
Court of Exchequer was the tribunal before which the case was to be tried,
Bethell, determined to cut a figure, had somewhat Adonized his attire, and
presented himself before the Chief-Baron, who, affecting not to recognise him
(wearing the unusual disguise of a clean shirt), surveyed him through his eye-
glass, and, stooping down, asked who the gentleman was — with an air like that
which Brummell must have worn when he asked his companion, who stopped
to speak to George IV., " Who is your fat friend ?" — Bethel, with an air of
great importance, thus commenced; " My Lord, on this occasion, I have the
honor to appear for the Crown." The Chief-Baron, interrupting him, in hip

MICHAEL

Panza seem combined. He hits the metaphysical propensi-
ties of Baron Smith,* with a distinction, in which it would

blandest manner, and with his sweetest smile, interjected, " And, sometimes,
I believe, Mr. Bethell,/or the half-crown!" — On the subject of taking less
than the regulation fee or honorarium, I recollect an illustration or two. Fitz-
gibbon, father of Lord-Chancellor Clare, was a lawyer in good practice, and
very fond of money. A client once brought him a brief and fee, that he might
personally apologize for the smallness of the latter. Fitzgibbon, muttering that
) they should have intermediately reached h m through the hands of an attorney,

j took both — but looked most gloomily on the very limited amount of the fee. The
I client sorrowfully admitted the cause for discontent, but added, that it was " all
• he had in the world." — "Well, then," said Fitzgibbon, "as that's the case,
[ and you have no more, why, I must — take it" Which he did, no doubt. — To
match this,1 there is an anecdote of a certain Mr. Sergeant Cockle, of the Eng-
lish bar, who was accused of the grave offence of having taken a half fee, and
even of having accepted part of the money in the copper coin of the realm.
The charge duly came before the bar-mess for adjudication, and was fully sus-
tained by evidence. In defence, Cockle briefly said : " It is quite true that I
took half a guinea, where the fee should have been a guinea, and that it was
made up of a crown-piece, four shillings, two sixpences, and sixpence in cop-
per." There was a great sensation on this confession of the charge. But
Cockle went on : " But, gentlemen, before I took the money, I ascertained it
1\ \ was the last farthing the poor devil had, and I appeal to the honorable profes-
sion, whether, under such circumstances, taking his last penny from him, I was
I not quite justified, and have maintained the character of the bar?" It was
unanimously agreed that he had done all that a lawyer could do, in such a
case, and, honorably acquitting Cockle, the bar-mess inflicted the fine of a
basket of claret upon his accuser — the grand rule at all mess-trials being that
somebody must be mulcted in the generous juice of the grape ! — How different
is this merely professional acquisitiveness from the generous feeling of the
sailor at Gibraltar, during the early and warlike years of the present century.
Landing at "the Rock," with his comrades, all agreed, having plenty of
money, that it would be suitable and creditable for each to purchase a gold-
laced cocked-hat. On reassembling at night, one man had a silver-laced hat
and was immediately denounced (with a promise of early colling, when they
were on board) as a shabby fellow. His protest had all the energy of truth.
" Messmates," said he, " I scorn the charge. When I went to the man who
sells the gold-lacers, I found that he had not one left. So, I took this silver-
lacer, but paid him for it all as one as if "'twere gold" Of course, Jack was
honorably acquitted. — M.

* Sir William Cusack Smith, one of the Barons of the Exchequer in Ireland,
was a remarkable man. He was born in January, 1766, and died in August,
1836, in his seventy-fh-st year. His father, Sir Michael Smith, was a great
lawyer, and finally became Master of the Rolls. The younger Smith studied
at Oxford, xnd there obtained the friendship of Edmund Burke? at wh(,>gt;

gra W. c. SMITH. 115

have puzzled St. Thomas Aquinas, without the aid of inspira-
tion, to detect a difference : when every other argument has
failed with Baron M'Cleland, he tips him the wink, and point-

cjuntry-house, in a neighboring county, he passed all his leisure. In 1788, he
was called to the Irish bar, and soon after became Doctor of Civil Law, to
qualify him for practice in the Ecclesiastical Courts. In 1795, Mr. William
Smith was made king's counsel, and entered Pai'liament in the same year. He
strenuously supported the Union, not only by his votes and speeches, but as a
pamphleteer. In 1800, he was made Solicitor-General, and in 1802, when his
father, who then was a puisne Baron of the Exchequer, was raised to the higher
dignity of Master of the Rolls (the second equity Judge in Ireland, and not
removable as the Chancellor is, on a change of ministry), the younger Smith
succeeded him. In 1808, by his father's death, he succeeded to the baronetcy.
Sir William Smith, who had studied in the school of Burke, was what is called
" an old whig," and strongly advocated the justice and policy of Catholic
Emancipation. When this was granted, and the Repeal agitation followed,
Sir William Smith denounced it as impolitic, ungrateful, and* illegal. Up to
that time, he had been in high favor with the Catholic leaders. But, in Feb-
ruary, 1834, Mr. O'Connell moved that the House of Commons should appoint
a Committee to inquire into Sir William Smith's judicial conduct — mainly
complaining that, in his charges to grand-Junes at the Assizes, he largely in-
troduced political subjects, and that his habits were singularly at variance with
what ought to be the habits of a judge. It was stated by Mr. O'CoTinell (and
not denied) that Baron Smith commonly came into the Court about half-past
twelve at noon — that he thus delayed the despatch of business — that, at Ar-
magh, he had tried fourteen prisoners between six o'clock in the evening and
six in the morning — that one of these trials had actually commenced long
after midnight, and that his whole course was irregular. This prima-facie case
against Baron Smith was so strong, that (the whig ministry siding with Mr.
O'Connell) the motion for inquiry was carried by a majority of 167 to 74. A
week after, however, Mr. Peel and his party reopened the question, defended
Baron Smith, accused O'Connell of personal and vindictive motives, and pro-
posed that the vote for inquiry be rescinded — which was done, by a majority
of 165 to 159. There is no doubt that Baron Smith's habits had latterly be-
come very eccentric. As a judge he was impartial, and was humane even to
a fault. He had a horror of sentencing a culprit to death, and " leant to mer-
cy's side" on the trial of all capital offences. He was attached to letters, and
published several pamphlets, chiefly on politics, which are forgotten. He also
was author of an examination of the Hohenloe miracles. The only work by
which he is likely to be remembered as an author, is a singular productioi
called " Metaphysical Rambles." — His second son, Thomas Berry Cusack
Smith, Attorney-General under the Peel administiation, conducted the O'Con-
nell State Trials in 1844. He is now (1854) Master of the Rolls, as his grand-
father was, and completes the singular instance of three out of one family having
Successively worn the ermine. — M.

116 MICHAEL O^LOGHLltf.

ing with his thumb to the opposite attorney, suggests the
merits of the client, by a pantomimic reference to those of his.
representative; and with the same spirit of exquisite adapta-
tion, plunges into the darkest abysses of black-letter erudition
with Baron Pennefather, and provokes his Lordship into a
citation from the Year-books (which excruciates the ears of Mr.
Furlong) in Tipperary French.

Mr. O'Loghlin is a native of Clare.* I had at firsthand
before I had made more minute inquiries, conjectured, from
the omega in his name, that he must be lineally descended
from some of the ancient monarchs of Ireland, or be at least
collaterally connected with one of the Phenician dynasties.
Upon investigation, however, I discovered that "the big 0,"
the celebrated object of royal antipathy, was but a modern an-
nexation ; and that, as I have already intimated, Mr. O'Loghlin

* The late Sir Michael O'Loghlin, it is scarcely too much to say, was one of
the best judges that Ireland ever possessed. Able, acute, clear-headed, and
thoroughly just, he towered above his fellows. He was born in October, 1789,
and though he had immense practice at the bar, was excluded by his religion
(he was a Catholic) from obtaining professional prefeiment as early as he de-
served it. When the liberals came into power, after the granting of Emanci-
pation, his talents obtained due recognition. He was made third Sergeant in
1831; second Sergeant in 1832; Solicitor-General in 1834; Attorney-Gen-
eral in 1835 ; and was made one of the Barons of the Exchequer in 1836 —
being, I think, the first Catholic judge for one hundred and fifty years. On
the Bench he maintained and, if possible, increased the reputation he had won
at the bar. All parties and all creeds honored and respected the upright judge,
and the urbane and accomplished gentleman. There was a general feeling of
gratification, at the bar, and among the public, when, in 1837, he was raised to
the dignity of Master of the Rolls. In this capacity, he showed the- great grasp
of his mind, for, though his bar-practice had chiefly been at common law, his
decisions in equity were irrefragable. In 1838, he was created a Baronet. Sir
Michael O'Loghlin died, September, 1842, aged fifty-three. The legal profes-
sion of Ireland, who knew his value, raised a large sum for the purpose of erect-
ing a monument to perpetuate their sense of his worth. It has been erected,
and consists of his statue, by M'Dowall (an Irish artist), which is appropriately
pla.ced in the Hall of the Four Courts, Dublin — the only other statue in that
suitable situation being one of Justice, toward which it looks. — Sir Coleman
O'Loghlin, educated at London University, and called to the Irish bar in 1840,
is eldest son of the late Master of the Rolls, and has already obtained a high
reputation. He was employed for the defence, in the State Trials of 1844 and
1848, and acquitted himseF with great distinction. — M.

ittS DANISH ANCESTOR. lit

is of a Danish origin. It lias often been observed that the
face of some remote progenitor reappears, after the lapse of
centuries, in his progeny ; and in walking through the halls
of ancient families, it is surprising sometimes to see, in the
little boy who whips his top beside you, a transcript of some
old warrior who frowns in armor on the mouldering canvass
above your head. There is preserved among the O'Loghlins
a picture of their ancestor. He was a captain in the Danish
navy. The likeness of this able cruiser off the Irish coast to
the Counsellor is wonderful. He was a small, square, com-
pact, and active little fellow, with great shrewdness and intel-
ligence of expression. Domestic tradition has preserved some
traits of his character, which show that the mind, as well as
the face, can be preserved during ages of unimpaired trans-
mission to the last. He was remarkable for his skill as a
navigator. Not a pilot in all Denmark worked a ship better.
He sent his light and quick-sailing galley through the most
intricate quicksands. His coolness and self-possession never
deserted him, and in the worst weather he was sure to get into
port. He generally kept close to the shore, and seldom sailed
upon desperate adventures. Remarkable for his talent in sur-
prising the enemy, and stealing into their creeks and harbors,
he would unexpectedly assail them, and carry some rich prize
away. The descendant of this eminent cruiser works a cause
upon the same principles as his ancestor commanded a ship.
He holds the helm with a steady and skilful hand, and shifts
his sails with the nicest adaptation to every veering circum-
stance that occurs in his course. Sometimes, indeed, he goes
very close to the wind, but never misses stays. I scarcely
ever saw him aground. He hits his adversary between wind
and water, and, when he lies most secure, sails into his anchor-
age, boards, and cuts him out. It is not, therefore, to be won-
dered at, that he is in as great practice in the Hall as his fore-
father was upon the ocean, of whom it is recorded that he —

" Pursued o'er the high seas," his watery journey,
And merely practised as a sea-attorney."

FRANCIS BLACKBURNE.

I AM one of those whose political information is derived
from a perusal of "The Weekly Register,"* through the ample
columns of which I disport myself upon Saturday evening,
and refresh myself with news much older than the beverage
with which I raise my spirit to the proper pitch of patriotism,
in order to wash down the eloquence of the Catholic Associa-
tion. While others busy themselves in political anticipations,
and leave Time panting and toiling after them, I follow him
at a distance, and am contented if, upon the eve of the Sab-
bath, I can collect enough of news to join in the discussions
of divers Popish counsellors, who assemble at half past one
o'clock to offer their devotions to " our Lady of Carmel," under
the auspices of Mr. L'Estrange, in the avenues of Clarendon-
street Chapel. In this sacred spot, just after benediction, one
may observe a certain convocation of politic lawyers with
huge prayer-books, bound in green morocco, under their arms.
After years of hebdomadal employment, the golden pages of
these holy volumes look as bright and fresh as when they
issued from the burnishing hands of the bookseller to May-
nooth College, and bear evidence of the care which the pious

* A newspaper of great influence in those days (1827) and for twenty yeais
after. It sided with Mr. O'Connell through the great struggle for Emancipa-
tion, and the various efforts to obtain Repeal, by means of a Parliamentary
enactment. When Mr. Duffy, in The Nation, and Mr. John Mitchel, in The
United Irishman, advocated the bolder policy of force (argament having whol-
ly failed) the Weekly Register, which was opposed to physical force, fell to the
ground. — M.

STEPHEN WOLFE AND WOLFE TONE). 119

Votaries of Themis have taken not to profane them with too
frequent an application of their forensic fingers.

But this is parenthetically observed — I was gofng on to
say, that I merely prepared myself upon Saturday evening to
talk over the memory of Lord Wellesley with Mr. Farrel ; the
lamentable increase of crime upon the Minister circuit with
Mr. Wolfe;* sacerdotal riots at Birr, and the validity of ex-
communication with Mr. Cruise ; and the recollections of Wolfe
Tonet with Mr. Shell. Such being my indifference to political
events, it not un frequently happens that a great incident takes
place of which I do not hear until after its more immediate
effects upon the public mind have subsided — until after Mr.
O'Connell has ordered a gown of Irish silk in the Liberty ;
Mr. Sergeant Lefroy has sought the consolations of religion

* Stephen Wolfe, a good lawyer and a liberal man, obtained neither notice
nor preferment from the anti-liberal Governments preceding the grant of Eman-
cipation. In 1834, he was made third Sergeant : Solicitor-General in 1836,
Attorney-General in 1837, and Chief Baron of the Exchequer in 1838, on the
death of Joy. Mr. Wolfe earnestly pressed the Government to appoint Mr.
Pennefather, as fittest for this post, and that he (Wolfe) should merely take
the puisne judgeship to be vacated by the promotion of Pennefather. But the
Government, whose politics differed very much from those of Mr. Pennefather,
declared that, under no circumstances, would they consider his claims; where-^
upon Mr. Wolfe was appointed Chief Baron. He died, June, 1840. — M.

t Theobold Wolfe Tone, actual founder of the " Society of United Irishmen,"
was born in 1763 ; called to the bar in due course ; published a pamphlet
against British mis-government in 1790; and founded the above society in 1793.
From that time,

*' Per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum,"

Tone devoted himself to negotiations with the French Government to send men
and arms to win back " Ireland for the Irish." One such expedition, under
General Hoche, actually sailed, but a hurricane dispersed the fleet (consisting
of 17 sail of the line, 13 frigates, &c., with 14,000 soldiers, and 40,000 stand
of anus, besides artillery) before it could reach Bantry Bay, in the south of
Ireland, and the French Government declined sending another large expedi-
tion. A petty armament was despatched, but beaten in a contest, with an over-
powering British fleet. Tone, who had fought bravely, was captured, tried by
a Court Martial, and. sentenced to be hanged, which he evaded by suicide.
On the publication of Tone's autobiography, seven-and-twenty years after his
death, Sheil attempted " to point a [political] moral" from it, in one of his
Catholic Association Speeches, and was prosecuted for it by Mr. Plunket
then Attorney-General, but never brought to trial. — M.

120 FRANCIS BLACKBUENE.

in the College chapel, and Mr. Sergeant Blackburne, the sub-
ject of the present article, has bitten his nails to the roots for
having, in a moment of weakness, yielded to the solicitations
of Master Ellis, and allowed himself to be debauched so far
from his characteristic prudence as to sign the anti-Catholic
petition.

I have mentioned this habit of mine in order to account
for my surprise at the strange appearance which was exhibited
not very long ago by the Hall of the Four Courts, when I was
struck by the sudden change of aspect and of manner which
several individuals had, in the course of a few hours, under-
gone. Had I been acquainted with the news which had that
morning arrived in Dublin, I should not have wondered at the
transformation of the loyal portion of the bar; but I should
have been prepared for something extraordinary, for, in my
way to the Hall, I observed Mr. Secretary O'Gorman coming
down Mass-lane, and just as he turned the corner, Mr. Peter
Fitzgibbon Henchey (although Mr. Saurin and the Chancellor
happened at the moment to be passing !) gave a look of un-
qualified recognition to the great plenipotentiary, which was
returned with an air of official affability which became so
eminent a functionary as Mr. O'Gorman.

The appearance of the latter gentleman, indeed, was. suffi-
cient to intimate that some momentous incident had taken
place. Upon occasions of great importance, Mr. O'Gorman puts
on a pair of white silk stockings, striped with black, such as
he observed to be worn by Lord Grey, when the Secretary
attended the Catholic Deputation.* The hosiery of the ultra-
patriot Earl struck the fancy of Mr. O'Gorman, and ever since,
upon great occasions, I have observed a fac-simile of his
Lordship's stockings distended upon the herculean symme-
tries of the Irish orator; and it must be owned that, being a
little spattered, and not much the better for the wear, they
are not a little emblematic of some part of Lord Grey's recent

* The descent upon England, of O'Connell, Shell, and others forming " The
Catholic Deputation," in the spring of 1825, is the subject of one of the follow-
ing Sketches — certainly inferior to none in personal, as well as in political
interest. O'Gomian was sccretaiy to the Irish Catholics. — M.

HE^OHEY. 121

parliamentary conduct.* The conjecture which I had formed
from the Catholic Secretary's inferior habiliments was con-
firmed by the cognizance which was taken of him by Mr.
Hen-chey, who, although his ancestors were deprived of their
estates in the county of Clare for their creed, is now a devout
adherent to the Chancellor's religion.

Mr. Henchey has three manners of recognition. If he walk
to court, and meet a junior counsel, who has held a brief with
him in the matter of Lord French a bankrupt, this gentleman,
who has inherited his prenomen from Lord Clare, gives a nod
of rather equivocal intimacy, in which the consciousness of his
own consequence is not altogether merged. If Mr. Henchey
has started on horseback from his splendid residence in Mer-
rion-square (which was once the town mansion of Lord Wick-
low), with a servant riding in gorgeous livery on a prancing
palfrey behind him, he throws a casual look upon his pedes-
trian brethren, and following those canons of conduct, which
Malvolio lays down for himself upon his .anticipated elevation,
" quenches his familiar smile with an austere regard of control."
But when Peter Fitzgibbon Henchey, one of his Majesty's
counsel at law, seats himself in his carriage, and rolls in all
the pomp of legal state along the rattling pavement of Nassau
street, he would be a bold man indeed, unless placed in imme-
diate vicinage to the bench, who, by any intrusive salutation,
should attempt to disturb Peter's meditations on his own dig-
nity, and seek to attract an eye, that, bordered with deeply-
pursed and half-closed lids, seems to be abstracted from all
external objects, and to have fixed itself in an inward con-
templation of the importance of the eminent person in whose
solemn and mysterious visage it is awfully and profoundly set.
Recollecting the habits of Mr. Henchey, when I observed a
person hitherto so conspicuous for his loyalty, according to the
sense attached by Lord Manners to the word, even in the
presence of the Chancellor, leaning from the window of his
carriage, and suddenly recovering his natural faculty of tele-
scopic vision, waving his hand to the Secretary of all the Cath-

* The late Lord Grey's determined and personal opposition to Canning, the
liberal Premier, in 1827 .-— M.

VOL. II.— 6

BLACltBUKNE.

olics of Ireland (Mr. Henchey's nearest relatives inclusive), I
concluded that something marvellous must have happened.

I entered the Hall of the Four Courts, and found in the
looks of Barclay Scriven, who was sitting on the basement of
one of the pillars, a farther ground for surmise. A few days
before he was in the height of hilarity, when Master Ellis was
putting the anti-Catholic Petition into circulation, with the
assistance of a young gentleman, whose aunt ex-parte paterna
is the abbess of a convent. But now Barclay Scriven Avould
have furnished Cruikshank with a model for a burlesque of
Ugolino. He formed a strong contrast with Sergeant Goold,
whom I observed tripping it on a toe (which, although no longer
light, is still fantastic), with a renovation of his former alacrity,
around the Hall. He has been lately looking a little autum-
nal, and has fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf. He is no
longer what he was, when he danced a pas-seul in the vagaries
of his youth at Fishamble street; for although he retains his
gracefulness of attitude, he has sustained some diminution of
agility, and is no longer so well qualified to dispute the palm
with the " god of dance" upon the stage. But now his vivacity
seemed to be in a great measure restored. He looked as if he
had been newly boiled in Medea's caldron, or had received
from Mr. Godwin a recipe for everlasting youth, and had
started back some twenty years to life again.* I was de-

* William Godwin's sinking romance of " St. Leon" (the interest of which
turns on the hero having obtained the elixir vitce, which was to give perpetual
youth, and become master of the art of transmuting the meaner metals into gold),
will be recollected, by posterity, when his " Political Justice" is forgotten.
That work, the boldest piece of republicanism ever published in England, made
Godwin a marked man during the greater part of his life — long after he had
laid politics aside. He published " St. Leon," in 1799, and wrote several other
works of fiction. He died in April, 1836, aged eighty, and for the last five
years of his life, had a competency from a small sinecure place to which Lord
Grey's Reform Administration had appointed him. — Mary Wolstoncroft who
wrote the once famous " Vindication of the Rights of Women,'' was his wife
(she had previously lived with him, " on principle," as his mistress), and died
in giving birth to a daughter, who is known in the world of letters, as the wife
of Percy Bysshe Shelley, the poet (who was drowned, July, 1822), and was
herself a distinguished writer, as her " Frankenstein" shows : — she was born
in 1797, and died in 1851.— M.

CHANGED ASPECTS. 123

lighted at the favorable appearance in this able and honest
man, who has been uniformly faithful to his country, and nevet
sacrificed his principles to his interests by the abandonment of
a cause in which he enlisted in the enthusiasm of his youth,
and has since adhered to with a constancy which no temptation
could ever disturb.

The next individual of note whom I observed was Mr. Ser-
geant Lefroy. His eyes were fixed on the ground. This was
not unnatural, nor inconsistent with the angelic nature, for we
are told by Milton, that there was a spirit

" Whose looks and thoughts were always downward bent ;"

and who was occupied in admiring

" The riches of Heaven's pavement, trodden gold."

The way to Heaven, if we may form a conjecture from the
lives of the devout, would appear to be composed of the same
materials as its pavement. I at first thought the Sergeant was
engaged in his usual celestial occupation ; but looking more
attentively, I observed that the gloom of worldly solicitude
was mixed with the consciousness of his being in the enjoy-
ment of those rewards of piety which are promised, in the Old
Testament, to the servants of the Lord. I thought the pious
jurisconsult looked deeply melancholy ; perhaps I was mis-
taken, and he was only revolving a point of casuistry for the
approaching college election, and .preparing to demonstrate the
proposition which he afterward broached, that " no man at an
election is bound by a promise to a candidate, where the safety
of religion is at stake."

I had scarcely passed this eminent theologian, when I saw
Judge Moore* entering the Court of Common Pleas, and, ob-
serving in that truly liberal and patriotic judge (who has
approved himself on the bench the foe to faction, consistent
with the principles which rendered him, in the worst times, the
dauntless friend of Ireland and of Henry Grattan), a joyous
and unaccustomed spirit, I concluded that something fortunate
for his country had taken place.

This impression was strengthened when I noticed Petei

* This is not the present Justice Richard Moore, of the Queen'g pencil — J$

124 FRANCIS BLACKBURNE.

Burrowes, as he came in an opposite direction into tlie Hall,
with that aspect of heart-contentedness which he is sure to mani-
fest whenever the interests of Ireland are likely to be promoted
Availing myself of some acquaintance with this veteran in the
cause of Whiggism, I advanced toward him, and inquired
whether some extraordinary news had not arrived. Mr. Bur-
rowes is a remarkably absent man, and not having heard my
question, stood in re very beside me, muttering an occasional
word or two, when I repeated my interrogatory.* He was

* Peter Burrowes was born in 1753 and died in 1843, having reached the age
of ninety, retaining his mental faculti- s to the close. In 1774, he entered
college, and won a scholarship, hy sound and varied learning, in 1777. He
was a frequent speaker in the Historical Society, where his good sense and
sound information were highly estimated. He was of a sluggish temperament,
a heavy manner, and an ungainly person — but independence was to be achieved,
and he was assiduous and persevering. In 1785, he was called to the Irish bar,
and obtained his first honors in 1791, as counsel for Sir Lawrence Parsons
(afterward Earl of Rosse and father of the astronomer and present President of
the Royal Society of London), who had been a candidate for the representation
of the University and had been defeated, it was averred, by Provost Hutchinson
unduly using his influence for his own son. Continuing to win reputation at the
bar, Bun-owes did not receive a silk gown, owing to an impression on the part
of Government that he was friendly to the United Irishmen — an impression
which was not hastily removed. He finally obtained the honor and was one
of fourteen King's Counsel who signed a public protest, in December, 1799,
against the proposed Union. He sat in the last session of the Irish Parliament.
In 1806, he received the lucrative appointment of Counsel to the Commission-
ers of Customs, but had to resign it, when " All the Talents" quitted office.
His future course was one of hard labor, for his strong liberal opinions excluded
him from preferment at the hands of a Toiy Ministry. In 1822, when Plunket
was made Attorney-General, he had Burrowes made Commissioner of the Insol-
vent Debtors' Court, the large salary of which set him at ease for the rest of his
life. He eventually retired on a pension of sixteen hundred pounds sterling a
year. He was convivial and witty in private : earnest rather than eloquent at
the bar. Yet, some of his touches were good. In one case, where a man, who
had been flogged nearly to death in 1798, brought an action against the High
Sheriff who ordered the torture to be inflicted, when the jury laughed at a jest
aiising out of the cruel details, Burrowes indignantly exclaimed, "Ay, gentle-
men, you may laugh, but my client was writhing." — In the case of a young
lady who had suffered the worst wrong, in 1798, from a troop of brutal yeo-
manry, Burrowes thus described the victim's entry into Waterford : " The
shades of evening fell, as this young creature, foot sore, and alone, entered witb
a palpitating heart, that greatest of wildernesses — a great city." This is simple
and pathetic, as well as subljme in its simplicity. — His absence of mind has

PETER BURROWES. 125

awakened to a perception of the objects around him — a finely-
illuminated smile succeeded the broad gaze of vacancy with
which his eyes were at first fixed upon me, and he exclaimed,
•' Why is not Grattan alive to-day !"

I was about to ask for some more explicit information, when,
fortunately, my friend Eccles Cuthbert came up, and having
an equal talent and propensity for narration, put me, with
great clearness and volubility, in possession of the news, and
informed me of the revolution in the Cabinet. "In short,"
said Mr. Cuthbert (a phrase of which this excellent Whig is
somewhat inappropriately fond). ..But before Mr. Cuthbert
had concluded a sentence which commenced with this intima-
tion of brevity, Mr. Sergeant Blackburne walked by. The
moment I saw him, I interrupted Mr. Cuthbert, and assured
him that, " if I had entertained any skepticism with respect to
his intelligence, the aspect of the Sergeant would set all my
doubts at rest.

" Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,
Foretells the nature .of a tragic volume.''

The Sergeant was changed indeed. A little while before,
when the party under whose banners he had enlisted himself,
confidently anticipated the expulsion of Mr. Canning from the
Cabinet, Mr. Sergeant Blackburne exhibited as much alertness
as his grave and sedate nature permitted him to wear. His

been mentioned in a previous note. On a trial for murder, it was important
to the prisoner that the bullet found in the wound should be produced. It was
handed to Burrowes, who was occasionally taking a lozenge for a hoarseness.
In the middle of his speech he paused, and suddenly exclaimed, "O Lord, I
have swallowed the bullet by mistake." — He was found shaving opposite a wall
on which there was no mirror. " Sir," said the servant, who was asked where
it was, "my mistress had it removed six weeks ago!" — Plunket, once at a
festive entei-tainment, said, " Although I am about proposing the health of Peter
Burrowes, I am not inclined to conceal his faults, much less to describe him as
faultless. I will not dwell upon his minor peccadilloes, but shall only allude
to those by which he is continually offending. I know no man who has more
to answer for. He has spent his life in doing acts of kindness to every hutr^an
being but himself. He has been prodigal of his time, of his trouble, of his
talents, of his money, to every human being who had or had not a claim, an-1
this to the serious neglect of his own interests. In short," added Plunket, " T
can only account for such an anomaly as this, by supposing him utterly destitute
of tfye instinct of selfishness, ' — M,

126 FRANCIS BLACKBURNE.

habitual composure, and tlie sort of " wilful stillness" which tie
successfully entertains, had given way to an unaccustomed
spirit, and it was manifest that all his thoughts had been put
into an agreeable and pleasurable movement. He never wanted
brilliancy of eye ; but he had been used to subdue its expres-
sion with a certain solemnity of aspect, which made him look
as if he were rehearsing the part of a judge, long before it
should come to his turn to perform the part. Thus he had
contrived to invest features, which, with the exception of his
eyes, are rather of an ordinary cast, with an important sober-
ness and an aspect of not undignified meditation. His figure,
although below the common height, and of broad and qua-
drangular dimensions, was stiffened into a kind of stunted
stateliness that gave him an imposing and somewhat authori-
tative deportment. His walk and gesture were always in
measure with the march of his steady and uniform mind, which
was never betrayed into any unseemly precipitation. Such
was the ordinary man ; but he was now entirely altered. The
fire of his eye had gone out ; his walk was loose, slouched, and
irregular; restlessness and inquietude were apparent in the
whole frame and body of the man, and dejection, mingled with
the fretfulness of disappointment, spread over his countenance.
He seemed to have been reduced an inch in elevation, and to
have shrunk back from his artificial altitude into himself.
How changed from him who not long before, amidst the orgies of
the corporation, with his cup overflowing with claret, announced
himself, amidst the acclamations of inebriated aldermen, to
be the champion of the church and state ! Peter Burrowes,
who is full of the milk of human kindness, though it occasion-
ally turns a little sour, fixed upon him his vast blue eyes,
which would fitly provide a brace of Cyclops with the orbs of
vision, and exclaimed, in his usual tone of rough and hoarse
benevolence, " I pity Blackburne !"

The Sergeant's mistake in signing the anti-Catholic Petition
might have excited the commiseration of Mr. Burrowes; but it
produced in the public, on account of its imprudence, more
surprise than sympathy. For my own part, I was not at all
at the last step taken bv Mr. Blapkburne, because

JOHN PHILPOT C URBAN. 127

it was in perfect consistency with the first which he adopted
when he crossed the threshold of his profession.

He was called to the bar about the time that the celebrated
John Philpot Gurran was made Master of the Rolls.* A

* When the Whigs came into office, in 1806, on the death of Pitt, they ap-
pointed John Philpot Curran to the bench, as Master of the Rolls, which office
he held until 1814, when he resigned, on a pension of three thousand pounds
sterling, and resided from that time chiefly in London, where he died, in 1817,
aged sixty-seven. He was by no means a good equity judge, and considered
himself unfairly used by not being made Attorney-General, for which his famil-
iarity with common law qualified him, and from which office (had his party
remained in power, which was not the case), the natural transition would have
been to the Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, or Exchequer, as Chief Judge.
Curran, born in 1750, of poor parents in the County of Cork, was educated by
a benevolent clergyman, named Boyce (ever let us record the names of good-
doers) who strained his own limited means to send him to college and get him
to the bar. Fortuneless, and nearly friendless, Curran's early struggle, ere he
obtained law-practice, was bitter and painful. But his talents brought him on.
He entered Parliament, and won repute there. He was the advocate of nearly
all the persons charged with political offences, during the last eight years pre-
ceding the Union (which he opposed), and his forensic eloquence, on these
occasions, excited general admiration. His fearlessness as an advocate injured
him at the bar, for Lord-Chancellor Clare let it be seen that Mr. Curran and
his arguments had no favor with him, but gave him immense popularity. His
appeals to juries were powerful, beyond any conception which can be formed
from his published, but unconnected Speeches. In one case, where a clergy-
man named Massey sued the Marquis of Headford (an Irish peer, nearly, but
not quite as wicked as his almost namesake, the English Marquis of Hertford)
for seduction of his wife, Curran — who had himself sustained a similar wrong
— pleaded so powerfully that the jury returned a verdict of Ten Thousand
Pounds sterling against the " noble" Adulterer. Curran's conversational were
equal to his oratorical powers. His bon mots are widely known. Byron, who
only knew him in his later years, when the wine of life was on the lees, chron-
icled his impressions in his private journal : " His imagination is beyond human,
and his humor (it is difficult to define what is wit) perfect. He has fifty faces,
and twice as many voices, when he mimics. I never met his equal." Again :
— " Curran, Curran's the man who struck me most. Such imagination ! There
never was anything like it." And, further on : "I have heard that man speak
more poetry than I have ever seen written, though I saw him seldom, and but
occasionally." — Curran was small in statue, swarthy in complexion, and with
an Irish face, in which brilliant eyes redeemed everything. Phillips thug
sketches him, in 1805, as he appeared in the Hall of the Four Courts: "Mark
Well that slight, short figure, with restless gait, and swaying motion, and speak*
iug gesture -^ he with the uplifted face, protruded upper-lip, and eyes like lir

128 FEA.NCIS BLACKBURNE.

meeting of the bar was held for tlie purpose of presenting to
Mr. Cm-ran a congratulatory address. When this assembly
had been convened, and after some of the most eminent persons
in the profession had delivered their opinions, a young gentle-
man drew upon himself the general attention by coming delib-
erately forward and opposing the motion to offer a tribute of
respect to a man whose genius had reflected so much honor
upon his country, and in whose speeches passages are to be
found which rival the masterpieces of eloquence in ancient lan-
guage. It would not hart) been extraordinary if some hoary
pleader, actuated by political prejudices operating upon a
naturally narrow mind, which had undergone still greater con-
traction in the inferior departments of the profession, had
opposed the tribute which it was intended to offer to the most
renowned advocate at the bar : but it excited no little surprise,
that a man who was not old enough to have personally min-
gled in the ferocious contests of the civil war (during which
Mr. Curran had displayed an intrepidity which excited the
animosities of the successful party), and whose mind ought to
have been susceptible of the impressions which the eloquence
of Mr. Curran was so well calculated to produce upon the
young and sensitive, should have tendered himself as a volun-
teer to the faction of which that great speaker was the antag-
onist, and had earned his best honors in their hate.

The boldness of this proceeding was quite sufficient to at-
tract notice. Every eye was fixed upon this juvenile and un-
known dissentient from the great body of the bar. They saw
a formal and considerate-looking person, with a gravity far
beyond his years, advance with perfect coolness and self-pos-
session; and while they condemn the feelings by which he

ing diamonds." — Curran was fortunate in his biographers. The volume, by
Mr. O'Regan, published soon after his death, is chiefly anecdotal. His son,
William Henry Curran, wrote an excellent Memoir, in two volumes, long out
of print, and Charles Phillips' "Recollections of Curran" (re-cast and much
extended, in 1850), supplies a vast quantity of information about the man, his
times, and his contemporaries.— The address from the bar, on his appointment
as Master of the Rolls, mentioned by Mr. Sheil as opposed by Mr. Blackburne,
was very brief, and while it congratulated him on his promotion, complimente-l
him on the public grounds of his ability, independence, and integrity. — M.

STARTS INTO PUBLIC LIFE. 129

was instigated, they could not Lut perceive that lie liad quali-
fications which were calculated to raise him to great eminence
in his profession. His enunciation was perfect ; every tone
was mellow and musical, and the cadences marking his flowing
and unelaborated sentences, manifested the finest sense of
harmony, and a peculiarly rhythmical elocution. To those
external qualities was added an easy, round, graceful, and
unstudied gesture. Although he took the side upon which
many angry and vindictive passions were marshalled, yet he
betrayed none of the violence of political detestation. He was
throughout calm,, sober, and subdued, and displayed that clear-
ness in statement, and that faculty for methodical exposition,
which have since so much contributed to his great success in
his profession. It was painful to see Mr. Blackburne, exhibit-
ing at the same time so much ability, and so little sense of the
transcendent merits of the celebrated person whose laurels he
endeavored to blight. This step was the subject, I have heard,
of general comment. It was considered a decided intimation
of the course in politics which the young gentleman intended
to take, and his promotion under a Tory ministry was generally
anticipated. This precocious disposition to sustain the "as-
cendency," might, to use Rosalind's illustration, be compared
to a medlar; and it might have been not unhappily said to
Mr. Blackburne, by any lover of quotations, " you will be the
earliest fruit in the country : for you'll be rotten, ere you be
half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar."

Mr. Blackburne, however, did not fulfil the anticipations
which had been formed in his regard, notwithstanding this
unequivocal intimation of his political predilections. He got
rapidly into business, and wisely dedicated himself exclusively
to it. In a short time his first exploit was forgotten; and as
the Irish Catholics are disposed to consider all those who are
not ostensibly against them, as with them, a notion crept
gradually abroad that Mr. Blackburne had leanings to the
liberal side. However, as he did not interfere, little was said
with respect to his political opinions, and his efficiency in his
profession caused both Catholic and Protestant solicitors to
make large contributions to his bag. To his admirable manner

6*

130 FRANCIS BLACKBURNE.

fie owes much of his reputation. He lias a finer voice than
Any man at the bar, and lias an ear so accurate, that the nicest
analyzer of tones could not detect the least deviation from har-
mony in his utterance, which is so perfect, that Doctor Spray,
of Christ church Cathedral [Dublin], who was master of the
science, used to declare that he could set his intonations to
music. The Sergeant himself is an excellent singer, and
passionately fond of that accomplishment in others. It creates
no little surprise among persons who are not aware of his
being possessed of this talent, when, hearing on a sudden a
peculiarly rich and sweet voice breathing in delightful tones
one of Moore's enchanting melodies, they turn round, and find
in the musician no other than the grave and solemn person,
whom they may have seen in the morning engaged in a con-
troversy respecting the form of4 a notice with his Honor the
Master of the Rolls.

But it is not to manner that the merits of Mr. Blackburne
are confined. Although I do not consider him as by any
means so ingenious and astute as Mr. Pennefather, who unites
almost every qualification which can be desired in an advocate,
yet Mr. Blackburne is surpassed by no man at the bar in per-
spicuity ; and while he renders subjects the most difficult and
entangled, perfectly simple and clear, he, at the same time,
avoids a defect sometimes incidental to the talent for exposi-
tion, and is by no means lengthy and prolix. It would be
wonderful, if, with these faculties, he had not succeeded; and
accordingly in a few years we find him in the foremost rank of
the Chancery Bar. I have mentioned that he observed a
systematic abstinence from all political discussion, in the in-
terval which was employed in scaling the heights of his pro-
fession ; but shortly after the arrival of Lord Wellesley as
Lord-Lieutenant, the extension of the Insurrection Act over
several of the southern counties, and the provision contained
in that statute, that a barrister, holding the rank of King's
counsel, should preside over the deliberations of the magis-
trates, brought Mr. Blackburne again upon the political
stage. A most favorable opportunity of recommending him-
o Government was presented by the refusal of Mr. Penne-

IN FAVOR WITS LOUD WELLESLEY. 131

father to undertake the ungracious office of putting this curfew
law into execution ; and Mr. Blackburne verified tlie maxim,
that men are often more advantaged by the omissions of others,
than by any desert of their own. Mr. Pennefather was pressed
by Government to proceed to one of the disturbed districts,
invested with Proconsular authority; but that gentleman, not
liking the occupation, and being besides in bad health at the
time, declined the honor intended to be conferred upon him.
This refusal gave, I believe, some offence, and afforded an
excuse for not promoting Mr. Pennefather to the place assigned
to him by the unanimous suffrages of the profession.

An application was made to Mr. Blackburne to undertake
the duties which had been declined by Mr. Pennefather, and
the proposition was immediately acceded to. It were unjust
not to state that, in this new employment Mr. Blackburne
acquitted himself in such a way as to give satisfaction to the
Government and to the public; for while he manifested a
proper zeal in quelling insubordination, he restrained the fero-
cious passions of the exasperated gentry, and prevented this
iron implement of oligarchical dominion from being converted
into the means of gratifying individual animosities, and pro-
moting the sordid or tyrannical views of every needy or vin-
dictive justice of the peace.

It is said that Mr. Blackburne, not only by his conduct, but
by his despatches to Lord Wellesley, raised himself not a lit-
tle in the estimation of the Marquis, and the subsequent inter-
course between them improved the impression which had been
previously made. Lord Wellesley is fond of the echo of his
own voice, which comes back to him in an important reverber-
ation from the halls of the viceregal palace; and Mr. Black-
burne, who, although a good speaker, has upon proper occa-
sions a great talent for silence, and has a fine listening eye, in
the audiences which he gave Lord Wellesley, afforded that
distinguished nobleman the best proofs of attachment to his
sovereign, as evinced by his admiration of his representative.
Accordingly, when the office of Sergeant became vacant, while
the Bar pointed to Mr. Pennefather as best entitled to promo-
tion, the Government, at, it is believed, the instance of Lord

132 FfcANClS BLACKBtlKNE.

Wellesley, selected Mr. Blackburne. Although many regretted
that Mr. Pennefather, whose manners render him as popular
as his talents make him conspicuous, had been passed by, yet
the appointment of Mr. Blackburne gave satisfaction, as he is
indisputably a person of great merit, and has not yet com-
pletely enrolled himself under the banners of a faction. Mr.
O'Connell, who carries about him the credulity of good-nature,
believed that the new Sergeant was favorable to Emancipation,
and announced his promotion as an auspicious circumstance ;
but those who remembered his first entrance upon the political
theatre, did not permit themselves to be so readily led astray.
An event soon after occurred, which showed pretty clearly
the bearings of Mr. Blackburne's inclinations. At'a civic din-
ner, he delivered a speech, in which lie intimated his strong
Protestant predilections.* I do not, however, attribute this
display of unanticipated loyalty to any ebullition of feeling
upon the Sergeant's part. There can be no doubt that, previ-
ous to the recent resignation of MivPeel and the Protestant
portion of the Cabinet, it was rumored, among the circles of
their supporters in Ireland, that Mr. Canning would be ejected
from power. This opinion gained ground every day, and grew

* The mild, temperate, and humane disposition of the Orange body may be
surmised from the charter-toast of the association, drunk with great solemnity
and joy, at civic feasts and on the first day of July (anniversary of the Battle
of the Boyne) every man kneeling as he repeated the words — said to have
been put together in 1689. The toast ran thus: "The glorious, pious, and
immortal memory of the great and good King William, who saved us from
pope and popery, brass money and wooden shoes. He that won't drink thia
toast, may the north wind blow him to the south, and a west wind blow him to
the east; may he have a dark night, a lee shore, a rank storm, and a leaky ves-
sel to carry him over the ferry to hell ; may the devil jump down his throat
with a red hot harrow, that every pin may tear out his inside ; may he be jam-
med, rammed, and dammed into the great gun of Athlone, and fired off into the
kitchen of hell, where the pope is roasting on a spit and the devil pelting him
with cardinals !" The Catholics, and liberal Protestants who refused to drink
this toast, which was a standing dish, late in the evening, after the dinners of
Dublin and other Corporations, were incontinently declared, from such recu-
sancy, to be " bad subjects." Not only ignorant yeomanry and country gentle-
men, but nobles, prelates, and princes (for the Duke of Cumberland was Grand
Master of the Orangemen !) used to drink this toast, and swear to stand by the
order — when they were too far gone with drink to stand by anything else. — M.

MS AM-CATliOLIC DISPLAY.

into a, sort of certainty, when the anti-Catholic Petition was
presented for their signatures to the bar. The crisis of Ser-
geant Blackburne's fat£ had arrived. There is generally in
the life of every man some one incident which is the hinge o
his destiny, and the Sergeant had touched that cardinal pom
By joining the Protestant party, he would have given him-
self, in the event of their success in the bold experiment which
was then in contemplation, a strong title to their patronage,
and might ultimately have attained the highest honors which
it is in the power of Government to confer. He did not resist
the allurements which were held out to him; and, giving way
to those original propensities which he had manifested in the
early period of his life, and acting partly upon calculation, in
an unluckly hour he attached his name to Master Ellis's pe-
tition.

But for this injudicious step, it is likely that Sergeant Black-
burne would be Solicitor, and in a short time Attorney-Gen-
eral, for Ireland. Upon the former office having become va-
cant, his friends strongly insisted upon his pretensions; but it
was urged, and with great truth, that to promote a decided and
avowed enemy to Emancipation, would be at variance with the
principles on which Mr. Canning's administration was built,
and would excite the indignation of the Catholic body, whose
passions it was so much the interest of the new Ministry to as-
suage. The consequence was, that Mr. Sergeant Blackburne
was put aside, and Mr. Doherty, who, besides being the friend
and relative of the Prime Minister, is member for the city of
Kilkenny, was named by the Cabinet as successor to Mr. Joy.

Sergeant Blackburne is an eminent lawyer ;* and for calm

* The reputation of Mr. Sergeant Blackburne (and his strong political bias),
caused him to be made Chief Justice of the Queen's Bench, in which capacity
he presided over the trial of Mr. Smith O'Brien, for high treason, at Clonmel,
in ]848. In 1852, when the Earl of Derby formed an administration, he raised
Bluckburne to the Chancellorship of Ireland, for which his former practice in
Equity, with the inclination of his mind and the particular range of his legal
acquirements, had well qualified him. As he was only nine months in that
office, he had little opportunity of " making his mark" upon tne public mind,
but the clearness of his intellect, the extent of his knowledge, together with
bis patience and good temper (requirements so essential in a judge), impressed

J34:

discussion of questions of equity, exhibits in mind and manner
a most happy aptitude • but he never enjoyed any very con-
siderable reputation as a public speaker, and, in addressing a
jury upon any topic of importance, as well as in the cross-
examination of witnesses, being very inferior to Mr. Doberty,
is by no means as well qualified as that gentleman to render the
Crown efficient service. If any state-prosecutions should be in-
stituted, the accused would find in Mr. Doherty a far more dan-
gerous assistant of the Attorney-General than the learned Ser-
geant. Of the fitness of the latter of those two gentlemen for
this important office, I had a recent occasion to form an accu-
rate estimate.

The last assizes of Clonmel [1828] presented a dreadful mis-
cellany of the most barbarous crimes, most of which were of an
insurrectionary character, and required the exercise of the
strongest powers of the law. There were not less than three
hundred and eighty prisoners upon the calendar, from which
Judge Burton seemed to recoil in dismay. The Government
felt that it was necessary to do their utmost in order to repress
so alarming a growth of crime ; and with a view to the produc-
tion of effect, and in order to give the administration of justice
more impressiveness, deemed it advisable to send Mr. Sergeant
Blackburne as special counsel for the Crown. He accordingly
arrived in Clonmel at the commencement of the Assizes ; and,
as he enjoyed no ordinary reputation, his mission had the de-
sired effect, by drawing the general attention to the cases which
he conducted.

I felt a good deal of interest in some of the most important
of the prosecutions, and had a particular opportunity of observ-
ing Mr. Blackburne. Upon the first day of his appearance he
availed himself of the right of the Crown to address the jury
(although that privilege is denied to the prisoner against whom
a speech is directed !), in order to present a picture of the

the legal profession, who naturally can form the truest opinion on such a
point, with respect and admiration. Mr. Blackburne was offered a peerage,
on his appointment, but declined it. When the Derby Ministry broke up, Mr.
Blackburne resigned office — taking the usual retiring pension of four thousand
pounds sterling a year. He was succeeded, in December, 1852, by Mi
Maziere Brad} , whom he had displaced nine months previously. — M.

THE BURNING OF THE SHEAS.

general condition of tlie county. Tliis was a noble opportu-
nity for genuine eloquence. The best materials that can be
well conceived for a powerful harangue were gathered together.
The county was almost in a state of insurrection. Armed bands
of peasants traversed the country in the open day, and put to
death in the face oF the sun whoever presumed to violate the
code of regulations which they had arbitrarily imposed, under
the authority of their invisible chieftain, Captain Rock. Du-
ring the assizes themselves, two murders were committed, and
Mr. Lanigan, the land-agent of Lord Landaff, was fired at by
a party of forty men. The evils by which the county was ac-
tually afflicted were in themselves sufficiently alarming, with-
out looking into ulterior results ; but it was impossible not to
reflect upon the consequences which might ensue from the po-
litical and moral state of a famished and ferocious population,
provided with arms, regularly organized, and acting upon sys-
tematic principles of insubordination.

Independently of the general aspect of the county, which
opened such a wide field to a powerful speaker, the individual
case in which he addressed the jury was one of the most appal-
ling that can be imagined, and attended with circumstances of
strangeness as well as of atrocity, which furnished an occasion
for the noblest oratory. Eighteen individuals had been burnt
alive in one of the dark and lonely glens of the mountain of
Slievenamaun, and the chief perpetrator of that terrible deed
stood in all the ghastliness of guilt at the bar. The courthouse
was filled to suffocation, by persons of all classes ; and the vast
assembly, together with the leading aristocracy of that opulent
county, included in all likelihood some of the brother-incendia-
ries of the villain who was brought at last to a tardy justice.
The deepest silence prevailed. The Judge himself, however,
from his judicial experience disastrously familiar with scenes
of this kind, seemed to be awe-struck by the consciousness of
the important consequences of the trial, and weighed down by
the magnitude of the crimes over the investigation of which
he was condemned to preside. While the oath was .adminis-
tered to each of the jury, every eye was riveted upon the indi-
vidual who held the sacred volume in his hand. While h«

136 FRANCIS fcLACKfc tlRNEi.

pressed the word of God to his lips, his countenance was closely
Avatched, and it was easy to perceive upon the faces of the
twelve men, upon whose concurrent voices the life of their
fellow-creature was to depend, a strong solicitude, amounting
almost to an expression of fear, at the hazard which they were
about to incur by a conviction.

It was under these circumstances, and in the midst of a sol-
emn hush, that Mr. Sergeant Blackburne rose to address the
court; and I do him no wrong in stating that he did not raise
himself to the height of the great argument, nor did he even
make an approach to its elevation. He stated a case "fraught
with incidents which were enough to make " the hair stir as
life were in 't," with a coolness and sang-froid which would
have hecome the argument of a demurrer in the Rolls. He
brought to a court of criminal justice the language, the gesture,
and the intonations, to which he had been familiar in a court
of equity; and, in my opinion, his having failed to produce a
deep impression arose from the very qualities which render
him an accomplished advocate in another branch of his pro-
fession.

It may perhaps he thought that, feeling the injustice done
to the. prisoner in cases of felony, by permitting the counsel for
the Crown to inflame the passions of the jury, while the right
of speech is denied to the defendant's advocate, Mr. Sergeant
Blackburne benevolently abstained from eloquence, and from
motives of commiseration hid his brilliant faculties under a
merciful mediocrity and charitable commonplace. I am far
from thinking him capable of using any undue efforts to pro-
cure the conviction of any individual of whose guilt he could
entertain the slightest doubt : he is a man of unimpeached
probity and honor ; but, while I acquit him of any such san-
guinary intent, it is due to frankness to add that he entered
into a general view of the state of the county, and, by exciting
the alarm of the jury, enforced the necessity of making an ex-
ample, and of striking terror into the mind of the populace.
Perhaps this course was unavoidable ; for it is obvious that the
exercise of this privilege by the counsel for the Crown must
have the effect of heating the minds of the jurors, and of pre-

AS CROWN-PROSECUTOK. 137

paring them for the reception of the evidence, with that inevi-
table bias against the prisoner, arising from the predisposition
to convict, which an appeal to their passions and an inculcation
of the necessity of repressing insurrection can not fail to create.
The humane and truly constitutional Judge [Burton] who pre-
sided in the criminal court at the last assizes of Clonmel, and
who brought with him from England those habits of justice by
which he is distinguished, was sensible of the disadvantage
under which the prisoners labored, from the causes to which I
have referred, and appeared to me to allude to Mr. Blackburne's
speech, when he told the jury to discharge their minds of all
considerations excepting the evidence immediately applicable
to the specific case before them. I do not think that Mr. Ser-
geant Blackburne was much more successful in cross-examina-
tion, to which he is not accustomed, than in his oratorical dis-
plays; and it was the general impression of the bar that the
Crown was indebted for the convictions which took place to
the superior skill of Mr. Doherty, in breaking down, as it is
technically called, the witnesses produced for the defendants.

In the course of the speeches delivered by Mr. Sergeant
Blackburne, in the discharge of his functions as counsel for the
Crown, after a general delineation of the character and habits
of the county of Tipperary, he proceeded to state what he con-
ceived to be the causes of the miserable condition of that pop-
ulous and fertile district, and to point out a remedy for the
evils by which it is oppressed. He stated that the frightful
crimes which had been committed had their origin in the spirit
of organization to which the peasantry were inveterately prone ;
and suggesting that the rigorous administration of justice was
adequate to the cure of every evil, called upon the jury to ap-
ply, what his professional predilections, in conformity with the
proverb, naturally induced him to consider of sovereign efficacy
in removing all political distempers. There can be no doubt
that the tendency of the people to enter into illegal combina-
tions is among the ingredients of national calamity, but it is
far more a consequence of remote influences than it is an essen-
tial and leading cause. Mr. Sergeant Blackburne, in endeav-
oring to discover the sources of that deep stream of bitterness,

FRANCIS BLACKBURNfe.

the wide and almost periodical inundation of whose waters has
produced so rank a fertility of crime, must have made but little
progress toward the fountain-head, and mistaken one of the
branches of the river for its source

The most remarkable of the many important cases in which
Mr. Sergeant Blackburne acted as leading counsel for the
Crown, was the trial of William Gorman, to which I have
already referred, for "the burning of the Sheas." It is by
that title that the terrible crime in which so many immolators
and so many victims were involved, is habitually designated ;
and whenever a man expatiates upon the atrocities which dis-
grace the country, and upon the conflagrations by which its
character is blackened, he refers, as to a leading illustration,
to "the burning of the Sheas."

I shall not readily forget the impression which was produced
upon me, on my first passing near the spot in which that dread-
ful incident took place, when some of its details were narrated
by one of my fellow-travellers, in descending the narrow defile
of Gleribower. The remains of the habitation in which eigh-
teen human beings were committed together to the flames, are
not visible from the road that winds at the foot of the mount-
ain on which it was situated ; but the dark and gloomy glen
in which the deed was done, can be pierced by the eye, when
the mists that hang upon the lofty ridge do not envelop it;
and it is always with awe, which is not a little assisted by the
loneliness and dreariness of the scene, that the traveller turns
his eyes toward that dismal valley, to \vhich his attention is
directed by the habitual exclamation which I had never failed
to hear: "There is the place where the Sheas were burnt!"
I had an opportunity, in consequence of having attended two
trials connected with that frightful event, of learning the cir-
cumstances by which it was attended ; and as in these sketches
I have not only endeavored to draw the portraits of individual
barristers, but also to describe the character of their occupa-
tions as influenced by the nature of the cases in which they
are engaged, an occasional account of the most important and
striking of those cases falls within the scope of these essays,
and at all events may not be unattended with interest to the

THE BURNING OF THE SHEAS. 139

reader. Passing, therefore, from the advocate to the prosecu-
tions in which he was engaged, it will not be inappropriate that
I should proceed to detail the incidents which attended " the
burning of the Sheas."

Upon the morning of the 20th of November, 1821, the re-
mains of the house of Patrick Shea, a respectable farmer, who
held a considerable quantity of land at the foot of the mount-
ain of Slievenamaun, exhibited an appalling spectacle. It had
been consumed by fire on the preceding night; and a large
concourse of people (the intelligence of the conflagration hav-
ing been rapidly diffused through the neighboring glens) as-
sembled to look upon the ruins. Of the thatched roof which
had first received the fire, a few smoking rafters were all that
remained. The walls had given way, and stood gaping in
rents, through which, on approaching them, the eye caught a
glimpse of the dreadful effects of the devouring element. The
door was burnt to its hinges; and, on arriving at the threshold,
as awful a scene offered itself to the spectator as is recorded in
t'ie annals of terror. The bodies of sixteen human beings of
both sexes lay together in a mass of corpses. The door having
been closed when the flames broke out, the inhabitants precipi-
tated themselves toward it, and in all likelihood mutually
counteracted their efforts to burst into the open air. The house
being a small one, every individual in it had an opportunity
of rushing toward the entrance, where they were gathered by
hope, and perished in despair. Here they lay piled upon each
other. Those who were uppermost were burnt to the bones,
while the wretches who were stretched beneath them were
partially consumed. One of the spectators, the uncle of a
young woman, Catherine Mullaly, who perished in the flames,
described the scene with a terrible particularity. With an
expression of horror which six years had not effaced, he said,
when examined as a witness, that the melted flesh ran from
the heap of carcasses in black streams along the floor.

But terrible as this sight must ha~ve been, there was another
still more appalling. The young woman, whom I have already
mentioned, Catherine Mullaly, resided in the house, and had
been not very long before married. She had advanced a con*

140 FKANCIS BLACKBURNE.

siderable period in pregnancy, and her child, which was bom
in the flames in a premature labor, made the eighteenth victim.
I shall never forget the answer given by her uncle at the trial,
when he was asked how many had perished, he answered that
there were seventeen ; but that if the child that was dropped
(that was his phrase) in the fire was counted, the whole would
make eighteen. His unfortunate niece was delivered of her
offspring in the midst of the flames. She was not found among
the mass of carcasses at the door. There were sixteen wretches
assembled there, but, on advancing farther into the house, in a
corner of the room, lay the body of this unhappy young creature,
and the condition in which her child was discovered accounted
for her separation from the group of the dead. A tub of water
lay on the ground beside her. In it she had placed the infant of
which she had been just delivered while the fires were raging
about her, in the hope of preserving it; and in preserving its
limbs she had succeeded, for the body was perfect with the
exception of the head, which was held above the water, and
which was burned away. Near this tub she was found, with
the skeleton of the arm with which she had held her child
hanging over it ! It will be supposed that the whole of this
spectacle excited a feeling of dismay among the spectators;
but they were actuated by a variety of sentiments. Most of
them had learned caution and silence, which are among the
characteristics of the Irish peasantry, and, whatever were their
feelings, deemed it advisable to gaze on without a comment ;
and there were not wanting individuals who, folding their arms,
and looking on the awful retribution, whispered sternly to each
other that " William Gorman was at last revenged !"

When information of this dreadful event reached Dublin, it
produced, as it was natural to expect, a very great sensation.
It was at first believed that "the burning of the Sheas" was
the result of that confederacy by which the peasantry had reg-
ulated the taking of lands; and that as the previous tenant,
one William Gorman, had been ejected by the Sheas, against
the will of the people, the house had been set on fire. But it
was asked, " What object could there be in destroying so many
individuals who were innocent of all crime, and were mere

THE BURNING OF THE SHEAS. 141

laborers and servants in the employment of the occupying
farmer?" This reflection, and a wish to rescue the national
character from the disgrace of so wanton an atrocity, gradually
induced a surmise that the fire had been accidental ; and this
conjecture was confirmed by the fact that, notwithstanding a
large reward had been offered for the discovery of the incen-
diaries, no information was given to the Government. At
length, however, the fatal truth was disclosed, and it was ascer-
tained that the conflagration was the result of a plot executed
by a considerable band of men, and that the whole population
in the neighborhood were well aware both of the project and
of its execution. The first clew to this abominable transaction
was given by a woman of the name of Mary Kelly.

This female had been a person of dissolute life, and had mar-
ried a servant, who, having relinquished his employment, some
time after his marriage, established, with the assistance of his
wife, what is commenly called a shebeen-house, in the vicinity
of the Sheas, at the foot of Slievenamaun. It was a kind of
mountain-brothel, or rather combined the exercise of a variety
of trades, which, in the subdivision of labor that takes place in
towns, are generally practised apart. Her husband stated that
he sold spirits without license ; provided board and lodging to
any passengers who thought it expedient to take up their
abode with him ; and that if a young man and woman had any
wish to be left alone in his hospitable and accommodating
mansion at a late hour at night, he and his wife did not think
it genteel to meddle with their discourse. It will be thought
singular that, in so wild and desolate a district, in the midst
of solitary glens and moors, such conveniences should exist;
but they are not unfrequent; and one often meets these traces (\ J^4
of civilization in parts of the country which carry no other
evidence of refinement !

Mary Kelly appears to have superintended and conducted
this establishment ; her husband merely giving it the sanction
of wedlock, and joining in the licentious conviviality which
took place under his auspices. But although his wife had, upon
her own admission, been of profligate habits, until time had
transmuted her, by the ordinary process, from a harlot to a

14-2 FRANCIS BLACKBUKNE.

procuress, yet she does not appear to have been utterly devoid
of all virtuous sentiment; and, indeed, the scene which she
had witnessed was of such a nature as to awaken any remnant
of conscience, which often, in the midst of depravity, is found
to linger behind.

A peasant of the name of William Gorman, at whose trial
Sergeant Blackburne conducted the prosecution, had originally
held the house where the Sheas resided. He was their under-
tenant, and held the lowest place in those numerous gradations
of tenure into which almost every field is divided and subdi-
vided ; for the Sheas were not middle-men in the strict sense
of the word, but stood themselves at a great distance from the
head-proprietor of the estate, although they were the immedi-
ate landlords of Gorman. The more remote the head-landlord,
the heavier the weight with which oppression falls on the oc-
cupier of the soil. The owner of the fee presses his lessee;
the latter comes down upon the tenant, who derives from him,
who, in his turn, crushes his own immediate serf; and if, which
often happens in this long concatenation of vassalage, there
are many other interventions of estate, the occupier of the soil
is in proportion made to suffer; and is, to use the expression
of Lord Clare, " ground to powder," in this complicated system
of exaction ! William Gorman was dealt with most severely.
He was distrained, sued in the superior courts, processed by
civil bill — in short, the whole machinery of the law was put
into action against him. Driven from his home, deprived of
his few fields, without covert or shelter, he made an appeal to
the league of peasants with whom he was associated ; and, as
the Sheas had infringed upon their statutes, it was determined
that they should die, and that an exemplary and appalling
vengeance should be taken of them.

I saw William Gorman at the bar of the court in which he
was condemned. He heard the whole detail of the atrocities
of which he had been the primary agent. He was evidently
most solicitous for the preservation of life ; yet the expression
of anxiety which disturbed his ghastly features occasionally
gave way to the exulting consciousness of his revenge; and,
as he heard the narration of his own delinquencies, so far fro™

THE BURNING OF THE SHEAS. 113

intimating contrition or remorse, a savage joy flashed over his
face ; his eyes were lighted up with a fire as lurid as that which
he had kindled in the habitation of his enemies ; his hand,
jwhich had previously quivered, and manifested, in the irregu-
lar movement of his fingers, the workings of deep anxiety, be-
came, for a moment, clinched ; and when the groans of liiv
victims were described, his white teeth, which were unusually
prominent, were bared to the gums; and, though he had
drained the cup of vengeance to the dregs, still he seemed to
smack his lips, and to lick the blood with which his injuries
had been redressed !

This man had the vindictive feelings of a savage ; but, while
his barbarities admit of no sort of extenuation, they still were
not without a motive. His co-partners in villany, however,
who arranged and conducted the enterprise, had no instigation
of personal vengeance, toward the oppressors of William Gor-
man. At their head was a bold and sagacious ruffian, whose
name was Maher. It was determined that their plot should
be carried into execution on Monday, the 20th of November.
On the preceding Saturday, Maher went to Mary Kelly's
house, and retired to a recess in it, where he employed himself
in melting lead, and fusing it into balls. He was supposed to
be a paramour of Mary Kelly (though she strenuously denied
it), and she was certainly familiar with him. She had heard
(indeed, it was known through the whole of that wild vicinage)
that it was intended to inflict summary justice upon the Sheas;
and being well aware that Maher was likely to dip his hands
in any bloody business which was to go on, and observing his
occupation, which he did not seek to hide from her, she taxed
him with his " slaughterous thoughts," and having some good
instincts left, begged him not to take life away. Maher an-
swered with equivocation.

During this colloquy, Catherine Mullaly, a cousin of Mary
Kelly, came into the house. Maher was well acquainted with
her, and had the rude gallantry which is common among ho
Irish peasantry. She resided as a servant with the Sheas.
Maher believed that there were arms in the Sheas' possession,
find knew that there were a number of persons living in the

144 FRANCIS BLACKBURNE.

house, with a view to their defence. The extent, however, of
their means of self-protection the murderers had not ascer-
tained, and it was important to learn the fact, in order that
they might adapt to circumstances their mode of attack. It|
is probable, that, if there had been no weapons in the house,
the conspirators would have burst open the door, dragged the
Sheas out, and put them to death, and would have spared the
more unoffending victims : but having discovered that there
were firearms in abundance, the}7 considered the burning of
the house as a measure of self-defence, independently of the
impression which a massacre upon a large scale would be likely
to produce. Maher, therefore, sought to ascertain the state of
defence from Catherine Mullaly, and entered into conversation
with her in the tone of mixed joke and gibe, of which the
lower orders, who delight in repartee, are exceedingly fond.
The young woman was pleased with his attentions, and in the
innocence of her heart, not having any suspicion of his intent,
gradually disclosed to him that there was a quantity of arms
in the house. Maher, o^fcer departure, put on her cloak, and
bade her farewell in the tone of friendship. Mary Kelly, who
knew him well, and guessed at his object, the moment Cathe-
rine Mullaly Avas gone (for she did not dare to speak in her
presence) implored Maher, whatever he might intend, not to
harm Catherine Mullaly.

She extorted a promise from him to that effect, on which
she relied for the moment, and they separated ; Maher with
his balls, and Mary Kelly with the undertaking for the life of
Catherine Mullaly, in which she placed so mistaken a confi-
dence. After some reflection, however, her alarm for the
safety of her relative, to whom she was much attached, revived,
and during the next day her suspicions were increased by the
notes of preparation which she observed between Maher and
his confederates. However, she did not venture to speak ; for,
to use her own phrase, " a word would have been as much as
her life was worth ;" still a terrible inquietude preyed upon
her, and, as if actuated by some mysterious impulse, upon
Monday night, when her husband, to whom she never com-
municated her apprehensions, was asleep, she silently rose

THE BURNING OF THE SHEAS. 145

from bed, and having huddled on his coat, left her cabin,
though it was near midnight, and advanced cautiously and
slowly along the hedges, until she made her way to near
Maher's house. She stopped, and heard the voices of men
engaged in discussion, which lasted some time ; at length the
door opened — she hid herself behind some brambles, and
bending down, in order to avoid detection, which would have
been death, she marked the murderers as they came forth.
They issued from Maher's house in arms, and walked in a sort
of array, advancing in file. Eight of them she knew; and, as
she alleged, distinctly recognised them by their voices and
looks. One of them carried two pieces of turf, lighted at the
extremities, and kept the fire alive with his breath.

They passed her without observation, and proceeded upon
their dreadful destination. Trembling and terror-struck, but
still impelled to pursue them, she followed on from hedge to
hedge, until they got beyond her; and perceiving that they
proceeded toward the house of the Sheas, she stopped at a
spot from which the house was visible, and by which the
murderers, after executing their diabolical purpose, afterward
returned. Here she remained in terrible anticipation, and her
conjecture was speedily verified. A fire suddenly appeared
in the roof of Shea's house ; the wind high, it rose rapidly into
a flame, and the whole was speedily in a blaze. It cast round
the rocky glen a frightful splendor, and furnished, in its exten-
sive diffusion of light, the means of beholding all that took
place close to the burning cottage, in which shrieks and cries
for mercy began to be heard. The murderers had secured the
door ; and having prevented all possibility of escape, stood in
groups about the house, and gazed on the progress of the con-
flagration. So far from being moved to pity, they answered
the invocations of their victims with yells of ferocious laughter.
They set up a war-whoop of exultation, and, in token of tri-
umph, discharged their guns and blunderbusses to celebrate
their achievement. There was an occasional pause in their
shouts : nothing then was heard but the crackling of the
flames, that shed far and wide their desolate illumination; and
the spectatress of this dreadful scene, though at some

146 FRANCIS BLACKBURNE.

from it, declared that, in the temporary abatement of the wind,
and the cessation of its gusts, she could at intervals hear the
deep groans of the dying, and the gulps of agony with which
their tortures were concluding.

But the fiends by whom these infernal fires were kindled,
soon reiterated their cries of exultation, and discharged their
guns again. The report of their firearms, which was taken
up by the echoes of the mountain, produced a result which
they had not anticipated. On the opposite side of a hill which
adjoined the house, there resided a man of the name of Philip
Dillon, who was a friend of the Sheas. Hearing the discharge
of guns, and suspecting what had taken place, he summoned
as many as he could gather together, and proceeded at their
head across the hill, in order, if possible, to save the Sheas.
They advanced toward the house, but arrived too late : neither
had they courage to attack the murderers, who at once drew
up before the flames to meet them. Philip Dillon, indeed,
defied them to come on, but they declined his challenge, and
waited his attack, which, as his numbers were inferior, he
thought it prudent not to make. Both parties stood looking
at each other, and in the meamvhile the house continued to
blaze. The groans were heard for a little time, until they
grew fainter and fainter; and at length all was silent.

Although the arrival of Philip Dillon did not contribute to
save any of the sufferers, still it was the means of convicting
William Gorman, by affording a corroboration to the testimony
of Mary Kelly. John Butler, a boy, who was in the employ-
ment of Philip Dillon, and accompanied him to the burning
house, was the brother of one of the servants of the Sheas.
Notwithstanding he could not give any assistance to his
brother, yet his anxiety to discover the murderers induced him
to approach nearer than his companions to the flames, when,
by the fire which they had kindled, Butler had an opportunity
of identifying William Gorman, against whom he gave his
testimony, and thus sustained the evidence of Mary Kelly.

All was now over — the roof had fallen in, and the ruins of
(he cottage were become a sepulchre. Gorman and Malier,
with their associates, left the scene of their atrocities, anq}

TfiE BURNING OF THE Sfl&AS. 14?

returned by tlie same path by which they had arrived. An-
other eye, however, besides that of God, was upon them.
They passed a second time near the place where Mary Kelly
lay concealed ;. again she cowered at their approach; and, as
they went by, had a second opportunity of identifying them.
Here a circumstance took place which is, perhaps, more utterly
detestable than any other which I have yet recorded. The
conversation of the murderers turned upon the doings of the
night, and William Gorman amused the party by mimicking
the groans of the dying, and mocking the agonies which ho
had inflicted.

The morning now began to break, and Mary Kelly, haggard,
affrighted, and laden with the dreadful knowledge of what
had taken place, returned to her home. Well aware, however,
of the consequences of any disclosure, she did not utter a syl-
lable to her husband, or to her son, upon the subject ; and
although examined next day before a magistrate, who con-
jectured, from the ill-fame of her house, that she must have
had some cognizance of what had taken place, she declared
herself to be innocent of all knowledge. John Butler, too,
who had witnessed the death of his brother, immediately pro-
ceeded to the house of his mother, Alicia Butler, an old woman,
who was produced as a witness for the crown; he awoke her
from sleep, and told her that her son had been burned alive.
Her maternal feelings burst into an exclamation of horror
upon first hearing this dreadful intelligence ; but, instead of
immediately proceeding to a magistrate, she enjoined her son
not to speak on the subject, lest she herself, and all her family,
should suffer the same fate.

For sixteen months, no information whatever was communi-
cated to Government. Mary Kelly was still silent, and did not
dare to reproach Maher with the murder of Catherine Mullaly,
for whose life she had made a stipulation. She did not even
venture to look in the face of the murderer, although, when he
visited at her house, which he continued to do, she could not
help shuddering at his presence. Still the deeds which she
had seen were inlaid and burned in dreadful colors in her
mind. The recollection of the frightful spectacle never left

148

her. She Lecame almost incapable of sleep ; and, haunted by
images of horror, used in the dead of night to rise from her
bed, and wander over the lonely glen in which she had seen
such sights; and although one would have supposed that she
would have instinctively fled from the spot, she felt herself
drawn by a kind of attraction to the ruins of Shea's habitation,
where she was accustomed to remain till the morning broke,
and then return wild and wan to her home. She stated, when
examined in private previous to the trial in which she gave
her evidence, that she was pursued by the spectre of her unfor-
tunate kinswoman, and that whenever she lay down in her
bed, she thought of the " burning," and felt as if Catherine
Mullaly was lying beside her, holding her child, " as black, as
a coal, in her arms." At length her conscience got the better
of her apprehensions, and in confession she revealed her secret
to a priest, who prevailed upon her to give information, which,
after a struggle, she communicated to Captain Despard, a jus-
tice of the peace for the county of Tipperary.

Such were the incidents which accompanied the perpetration
of a crime, than which it is difficult to imagine one more enor-
mous. To do the people justice, immediately after the con-
viction and execution of William Gorman, they appeared to
feel the greatest horror at his guilt; and of that sentiment a
Roman Catholic assembly, held during the assizes, afforded a
strong proof. The assizes had gathered an immense con-
course of the lower orders from all parts of the country, and
Mr. Sheil, conceiving that a favorable opportunity had pre-
sented itself for giving a salutary admonition to the people,
and believing that his advice would be fully as likely to pro-
duce an impression as the Protestant declamation of Mr. Ser-
geant Blackburne, used his influence in procuring a public
meeting to be summoned. A vast multitude thronged to the
place of assembly ; and I am bestowing no sort of encomium
upon Mr. Sheil, when I say that his speech produced a great
deal of effect upon the peasantry, for the bare statement of the
facts which appeared in evidence in the course of the assizes,
would have been sufficient to awaken deep emotions wherever
the instincts of humanity were not utterly extinguished. As

BtmKIlSrG OF TttE SHEAS. 149

Mr. Slieil's address contained a summary of the principal cases
in which Sergeant Blackburne was engaged, and he dwelt
especially upon that of Matthew Hogan, which was attended
by many afflicting circumstances, I shall close this article by a
citation from the concluding passages of that gentleman's
speech. " The recollection," he continued, " of what I have
seen and heard during the present assizes, is enough to freeze
the blood. Well might Judge Burton, who is a good and
tender-hearted man — well might he say, with tears in his
eyes, that he had not in the course of his judicial experience
beheld so frightful a mass of enormities as the calendar pre-
sented. How deep a stain have those misdeeds left upon the
character of your county, and what efforts should not be made
by every man of ordinary humanity, to arrest the progress of
villany, which is rolling in a torrent of blood, and bearing
down all the restraints of law, morality, and religion, before it.
Look, for example, at the murder of the Sheas, and tell me if
there be anything in the records of horror by which that
accursed deed has been excelled j The unborn child, the little
innocent who had never lifted its innocent hands, or breathed
the air of heaven — the little child in its mother's womb ... I
do not wonder that the tears which flow down the cheeks of
many a rude face about me should bear attestation to your
horror of that detestable atrocity. But I am wrong in saying
that the child who perished in the flames was not born. Its
mother was delivered in the midst of the flames. Merciful
God 1 Born in fire ! Sent into the world in the midst of a
furnace ! transferred from the womb to the flames that raged
round the agonies of an expiring mother ! There are other
mothers who hear me. This vast assembly contains women,
doomed by the primeval malediction to the groans of child-
birth, which can not be suppressed on the bed of down, into
which the rack of maternal agony still finds its way. But say,
you who know it best, you who are of the same sex as Cathe-
rine Mullaly, what must have been the throes with which she
brought forth her unfortunate offspring, and felt her infant
consumed by the fires with which she was surrounded ! We
can hut lift up our hands to the God of justice, and ask him

150 FRANCIS

why lias lie invested ns with tlie same forms as the demons
who perpetrated that unexampled murder! And why did they
commit it? — by virtue of a horrible league by which they
were associated together, not only against their enemy, but
against human nature and the God who made it! — for they
were bound together — they were sworn in the name of their
Creator, and they invoked Heaven to sanctify a deed which
they were confederated to perpetrate by a sacrament of Hell.
Although accompanied by circumstances of inferior terror, the
recent assassination of Barry belongs to the same class of guilt.
A body of men at the close of day enter a peaceful habitation,
on the Sabbath, and regardless of the cry of a frantic woman,
who, grasping one of the murderers, desired him 'to think of
God, and of the blessed night, and to spare the father of her
eight children!' dragged him forth, and when he, 'offered to
give up the ground tilled and untilled if they gave him his
life,' answered him with a yell of ferocious irony, and telling
him 'he should have ground enough,' plunged their bayonets
into his heart ! An awful spectacle was presented on the
trial of the wretched men who were convicted of the assassina-
tion. At one extremity of the bar there stood a boy, with a
blooming face and with down on his cheek, and at the other
an old man in the close of life, with a wild haggard look, a
deeply-furrowed countenance, and a heact covered with hoary
and dishevelled hair. In describing the frightful scene it is
consoling to find that you share with me in the unqualified
detestation which I have expressed ; and, indeed, I am con-
vinced that it is unnecessary to address to you any observation
on the subject.

" But, my good friends, I must call your attention to another
trial, I mean that of the Hogans, which affords a melancholy
lesson. That trial was connected with the insane practice
which exists among you, of avenging the accidental affronts
offered to individuals, by enlisting whole clans in the quarrel
and waging an actual war, which is carried on by sanguinary
battles. I am very far from saying that the deaths which
occur in these barbarous feuds are to be compared with the
guilt of preconcerted assassination, but that they are accom

SHEILAS SPEECH TO THE PEOPLE. 151

panied with deep criminality there can be no question : the
system, too, which produces them, is as much marked with
absurdity as it is deserving of condemnation. In this county,
if a man chances to receive a blow, instead of going to a magis-
trate to swear informations, he lodges a complaint with his
clan, which enters into a compact to avenge the insult — a
reaction is produced, and an equally extensive confederacy is
formed on the other side. All this results from an indisposition
to resort to the law for protection ; for among you it is a point
of honor to avoid magistrates, and to reject all the legitimate
means provided for your redress. The battle fought between
the Hickeys and the Hogans, in which not less than five hun-
dred men were engaged, presents in a strong light the conse-
quences of this most strange and preposterous system. Some
of the Hickey party were slain in the field, and four of the
Hogans were tried for their murder: — they were found guilty
of manslaughter — three of them are married and have families,
and from their wives and children are condemned to separate
for ever. In my mind, these unhappy men have been doomed
to a fate still more disastrous than those who have perished on
the scaffold. In the calamity which has befallen Matthew
Hogan every man in court felt a sympathy. With the excep-
tion of his having made himself a party in the cause of his
clan, he has always conducted himself with propriety. His
landlord felt for him not only an interest, but a strong regard,
and exerted himself to the utmost in his behalf. He never
took a part in deeds of nocturnal villany. He does not bear
the dagger and the torch ; honest, industrious, and of a mild
and kindly nature, he enjoyed the good will of every man who
was acquainted with him. His circumstances in the world
were not only comparatively good, but, when taken in refer-
ence to his condition in society, were almost opulent; and he
rather resembled an English yeoman than an Irish peasant.
Ilis appearance at the bar was in a high degree moving and
impressive — tall, athletic, and even noble in his stature, with
a face finely formed, and wholly free from any ferocity of
expression, he attracted every eye, and excited, even among
his prosecutors, a feeling of commiseration. He formed a

BLACKBIJ&tfE.

remarkable contrast with the ordinary class of culprits who are
arraigned in our public tribunals. So far from having guilt
and depravity stamped with want upon him, the prevailing
character of his countenance was indication of gentleness and
humanity. This man was convicted of manslaughter; and
when he heard the sentence of transportation for life, all color
fled from his cheek, his lips became dry and ashy, his hand
shook, and his eyes were the more painful to look at from their
being incapable of tears. Most of you consider transportation
a light evil, and so it is, to those who have no ties to fasten
them to their country. I can well imagine that a deportation
from this island, which, for most of its inhabitants is a misera-
ble one, is to many a change greatly for the better. Although
it is to a certain extent, painful to be torn from the place with
which our first recollections are associated, and the Irish
people have strong local attachments, and are fond of the place
of their birth, and of their fathers' graves — yet the fine sky,
the genial climate, and the deep and abundant soil of New
Holland, afford many compensations. But there can be none
for Matthew Hogan : — He is in the prime of life, was a pros-
perous farmer: — he has a young and amiable wife, who has
borne him children ; but, alas !

"' Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold,
Nor friends, nor sacred home.'

He must leave his country for ever — he must part from all
that he loves, and from all by whom he is beloved, and his
heart will burst in the separation. On Monday next he Avill
see his family for the last? time. What a victim do you behold,
in that unfortunate man, of the spirit of turbulence which rages
among you! Matthew Hogan will feel his misfortune with
more deep intensity, because he is naturally a sensitive and
susceptible man. He was proved to have saved the life of one
of his antagonists in the very hottest fury of the combat, from
motives of generous commiseration. One of his own kindred,
in speaking to me of his fate, said, 'he would feel it the more,
because' (to use the poor man's vernacular pronunciation) 'he
was so tinder' This unhappy sensibility will produce a more
painful laceration of the heart than others would experience.

M&. SHEIL'S SPEECE.

wlien he bids his infants and their mother farewell for ever.
The prison of this town will present on Monday next a very
afflicting spectacle. Before he ascends the vehicle which is to
convey him for transportation, to Cork, he will be allowed to
take leave of his family. His wife will cling with a breaking
heart to his bosom ; and while her arms are folded round hie
neck, while she sobs in the agony of a virtuous anguish on his
breast, his children, who used to climb his knees in playful emu-
lation for his caresses, his little orphans, for they are doomed

to orphanage in their father's lifetime I will not go on

with this distressing picture: your own emotions (for there are
many fathers and husbands here) will complete it. But the
sufferings of poor Hogan will not end at the threshold of his
prison : — He will be conveyed in a vessel, freighted with
affliction, across the ocean, and will be set on the lonely and
distant land, from which he will return no more. Others, who
will have accompanied him, will soon forget their country, and
devote themselves to those useful and active pursuits for which
the colony affords a field, and which will render them happier,
by making them better men. But the thoughts of home will
still press upon the mind of Matthew Hogan, and adhere with
a deadly tenacity to his heart. He will mope about, in the
vacant heedlessness of deep and settled sorrow; he will have
no incentive to exertion, for he will have bidden farewell to
hope. The instruments of labor will hang idly in his hands;
he will go through his task without a consciousness of what he
is doing: or if he thinks at all while he turns up the earth,
he will think of the. little garden beside his native cottage,
which it was more a delight than a toil to till. Thus his
day will go by, and at its close his only consolation will be
to stand on the seashore, and fixing his eyes in that direction
in which he will have been taught that his country lies — if
not in the language, he will at least exclaim in the sentiments
which have been so simply and so pathetically expressed in
the Song of Exile : —

" ' Erin, my country ! though sad and forsaken,

In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ;
But, alas ! in a far foreign land I awaken,

And sigh for the friends that can meet me no more.'"

7*

CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOR BARRISTER.*

My father was agent to an extensive absentee property in
the south of Ireland. He was a Protestant, and respectably
connected. It was even understood in the country that a kind
of Irish relationship existed between him and the distant pro-
prietor whose rents he collected. Of this, however, I have
some doubts; for, generally speaking, our aristocracy are
extremely averse to trusting their money in the hands of a
poor relation. Besides this, I was more than once invited to
dine with a leading member of the family when I was at the
Temple, which would hardly have been the case, had he sus-
pected on my part any dormant claim of kindred. Being an
eldest son, I was destined from my birth for the Bar. This,
about thirty years ago, was almost a matter of course with our
secondary gentry. Among such persons it was, at that time,
an object of great ambition to have " a young counsellor" in
the family. In itself it was a respectable thing — for, who
could tell what the "young counsellor" might not one day be?
Then it kept off vexatious claims, and produced a general

* This amusing sketch, of which it may be said, " Se non % vero, & ben tro-
valo," was prefaced with the following notice : — " MR. EDITOR : The author
of the Irish Bar Sketches seems of late to have suspended his labors : and
should he resume them, I question whether it forms any part of his plan to take
up the subject upon which I now propose to trouble the public. I trust, there-
fore, that he will not consider it an act of undue interference with his exclusive
tight*, if. pending his present silence, I solicit the attention of your readers to
the following sketch of myself. It may be vanity on my part, but it does strike
my humble judgment that the details I am about to submit, and I shall be can-
did even against myself, have an interest of their own, which will excuse their
publication." — The suspension spoken of here was imaginary, as one of the
Sketch 3g had appeared in May, t.nd this was published in July, 1825. — M.

THE DREAMS OF YOUTH. 155

interested civility in the neighborhood, under the expectation
that* whenever any little point of law might arise, the young
counsellor's opinion might be had for nothing. Times have
somewhat changed in this respect. Yet, to this day, the young
counsellor who passes the law-vacations among his country
friends finds (at least I have found it so) that the old feeling
of reverence for the name is not yet extinct, and that his dicta
upon the law of trespass and distress for rent are generally
deferred to in his own county, unless when it happens to he
the assizes'-time.

I passed through my school and college studies with great
eclat. At the latter place, particularly toward the close of the
course, I dedicated myself to all sorts of composition. I was
also a constant speaker in the Historical Society, where I dis-
covered, with no slight satisfaction, that popular eloquence
was decidedly my forte. In the cultivation of this noble art,
I adhered to no settled plan. Sometimes, in imitation of the
ancients, I composed my address with great care, and deliv-
ered it from memory : at others, I trusted for words (for I am
naturally fluent) to the occasion; but, whether rny speech was
extemporaneous or prepared, I always spoke on the side of
freedom. At this period, and for the two or three years that
followed, my mind was filled with almost inconceivable enthu-
siasm for my future profession. I was about to enter it (I can
call my own conscience to witness) from no sordid motives
As to money matters, I was independent ; for my father, who
was now no more, had left me a profit-rent of three hundred
pounds a-year.

No; but I had formed to my youthful fancy an idea of the
honors and duties of an advocate's career, founded upon the
purest models of ancient and modern times. I pictured to
myself the glorious occasions it would present of redressing
private wrongs, of exposing and confounding the artful machi-
nations of injustice ; and should the political condition of my
country require it, as in all probabilitTy it would, of emulating
the illustrious men whose eloquence and courage had so often
shielded the intended victim against the unconstitutional ag-
gressions of the state. It was with these views, and not from

156 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOR BARRISTER.

a love of " paltry gold," that I was ambitious to assume the
robe. With the confidence of youth, and of a temperament
not prone to despair, I felt an instinctive conviction that I was
not assuming a task above my strength ; but, notwithstanding
my reliance upon my natural powers, I was indefatigable in
aiding them, by exercise and study, against the occasions that
were to render me famous in my generation. Deferring for
the present (I was now at the Temple)* a regular course of
legal reading, I applied myself with great ardor to the acquire-
ment of general knowledge. To enlarge my views, I went
through the standard works on the theory of government and
legislation. To familiarize my understanding with subtle dis-
quisitions, I plunged into metaphysics ; for, as Ben Jonson
" somewhere says, " he that can not contract the sight of his
J mind, as well as dilate and disperse it, wanteth a great fac-
1 ulty;" and, lest an exclusive adherence to such pursuits should
have the effect of damping rny popular sympathies, I duly
relieved them by the most celebrated productions of imagina-
tion in prose and verse. Oratory was, of course, not neglected.
I plied at Cicero and Demosthenes. I devoured every trea-
tise on the art of rhetoric that fell in my way. When alone
in my lodgings, I declaimed to myself so often and so loudly,
that my landlady and her daughters, who sometimes listened
through the keyhole, suspected, as I afterward discovered, that
I had lost my wits ; but, as I paid my bills regularly and
appeared tolerably rational in other matters, they thought it
most prudent to connive at my extravagances. During the
last winter of my stay at the Temple, I took an active part, as
Gale Jones,f to his cost, sometimes found, in the debates of

* Irish barristers are compelled to " study" at the Temple, or some other Inn
of Court, in London, besides eating half their term dinners at the Queen's
Inn, Dublin. If an Irish banister wish to practise at the English bar, he must
first pass two years at a London Inn of Court, and pay the heavy stamp-duties
and other charges — though he had already paid them in Dublin. — M.

t John Gale Jones was a notoriety — in his way. He was born in 1771, and
before he had reached the years of manhood, had declared himself enamored
of French republican principles. Thence, until his death, in 1838, he was one
of the boldest, ablest, and most constant speakers at political meetings in Lon-
tjon, In 1810, he had arraigned the House of Commons at the bar of public

GALE JONES. 157

the British Forum, which had just been opened for the final
settlement of all disputed points in politics and morals.

Such were the views and qualifications with which I came
to the Irish Bar. It may appear somewhat singular, but so it
was, that previous to the day of my call, I was never inside
an Irish Court of Justice. When at the Temple, I had occa-
sionally attended the proceedings at Westminster Hall, where
a common topic of remark among my fellow-students was the
vast superiority of our Bar in grace of manner and classical
propriety of diction. I had, therefore, no sooner received the
congratulations of my friends on my admission, than I turned
into one of the Courts to enjoy a first specimen of the forensic
oratory of which I had heard so much. A young barrister of
about twelve years' standing was on his legs, and vehemently
appealing to the court in the following words : " Your Lord-
ships perceive that we stand here as our grandmother's admin-
istratrix de bom's non; and really, my Lords, it does humbly
strike me that it would be a monstrous thing to say that a
party can now come in, in the very teeth of an Act of Parlia-
ment, and actually turn us round under color of hanging us up
on the foot of a contract made behind our backs." The Court

opinion, and the Commons, instigated by the Government, committed him to
Newgate, where he remained until the prorogation of Parliament, when he was
liberated as a matter of course — neither branch of the Legislature having the
power of awarding imprisonment beyond its own Session. He was tried, at
Warwick, for sedition, and acquitted through the efforts of his counsel, Sir
Samuel Romilly. I heard him speak in 1830, when he was sixty years' old, and
even then, though his health was rather broken, he displayed much of the bold-
ness, fluency, and eloquence, which had distinguished him in his prime. At the
time I heard him, and until his death, his chief means of subsistence were what
he obtained by speaking for payment in the political and other discussions
which took place at the Rotunda in Blackfi-iars Road, the Cicernian Coffee
House, and other debating societies in London. I remember that on one occa»
sion, when I had ventured to present some matters of fact and figures of arith-
metic against his beautiful flowers of rhetoric, Gale Jones condescended to ad-
mit tha* he had been mistaken, and to invite me from the body of the Rotunda,
where I sat, as a spectator, to the platform where he and the other oratori
were placed. On my declining the invitation (thinking that the " post of
honor is the private station," in such cases), he requested that I would drink
his health, and s< nt round his own particular "pewter pot," out of which he
begged that I wp :]d make the friendly libation ,' — M

158 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOR BAKRISTEB.

admitted that the force of the observation was unanswerable,
and granted his motion with costs. On inquiry, I found that
the counsel was among the most rising men of the Junior Bar.

For the first three or four years, little worth recording
occurred. I continued my former studies, read, but without
much care, a few elementary law-books, picked up a stray
scrap of technical learning in the courts and the hall, and was
now and then employed by the young attorneys from my own
county as conducting counsel in a motion of course. At the
outset I was rather mortified at the scantiness of my business,
for I had calculated upon starting into immediate notice; but
being easy in my circumstances, and finding so many others
equally unemployed, I ceased to be impatient. With regard
to my fame, however, it was otherwise. I had brought a fair
stock of general reputation for ability and acquirement to the
bar; but, having done nothing to increase it, I perceived, or
fancied I perceived, that the estimation I had been held in
was rapidly subsiding. This I could not endure; and as no
widows or orphans seemed disposed to claim my protection, I
determined upon giving the public a first proof of my powers
as the advocate of a still nobler cause. An aggregate meeting
of the Catholics of Ireland was announced, and I prepared a
speech to be delivered on their behalf. I communicated my
design to no one, not even to O'Connell, who had often urged
me to declare myself; but, on the appointed day, I attended
at the place of meeting, Clarendon-street Chapel.

The spectacle was imposing. Upon a platform erected
before the altar, stood O'Connell and his staff. The chair
which they surrounded had just been taken by the venerable
Lord Fingal, whose presence alone would have conferred dig-
nity upon any assembly. The galleries were thronged with
Catholic beauties, looking so softly patriotic, that even Lord
Liverpool would have forgiven in them the sin of a divided
allegiance. The floor of the chapel was filled almost to suffo-
cation with a miscellaneous populace, breathing from their
looks a deep sense of rights withheld, and standing on tiptoe
and with ears erect to catch the sounds of comfort or hope
their leaders had to administer. Finding it imp-act!-

AN AGGREGATE MEETING. 159

cable to force my way toward tlie chair, I was obliged to
ascend and occupy a place in the gallery. I must confess
that I was not sorry for the disappointment ; for, in the first
feeling of awe which the scene inspired, I found that my
oratorical courage, which, like natural courage, " comes and
goes," was rapidly "oozing out;" — but, as the business and
the passions of the day proceeded — as the fire of national
emotion lighted every eye, and exploded in sknultaneous
volleys of applause — all my apprehensions for myself were
forgotten. Every fresh round of huzzas that rent the roof
rekindled my ambition. I became impatient to be fanned, for
my own sake, by the beautiful white handkerchiefs that waved
around me, and stirred my blood like the visionary flags of
the fabled Houris inviting the Mohammedan warrior to danger
and to glory.

O'Connell, who was speaking, spied me in the gallery. He
perceived at once that I had a weight of oratory pressing upon
my mind, and good-naturedly resolved to quicken the delivery.
Without naming me, he made an appeal to me under the char-
acter of " a liberal and enlightened young Protestant," which
I well understood. This was conclusive, and he had no sooner
sat down than I was on my legs. The sensation my unex-
pected appearance created was immense. I had scarcely said
" My Lord, I rise," when I was stopped short by cheers that
lasted for some minutes. It was really delicious music, and
was repeated at the close of almost every sentence of my
speech. I shall not dwell upon the speech itself, as most of
my readers must remember it, for it appeared the next day in
the Dublin Journals (the best report was in the Freeman),
and was copied into all the London opposition papers except
the Times. It is enough to say that the effect was, on the
whole, tremendous.

As soon as I had concluded, a special messenger was de-
spatched to conduct me to the platform. On my arrival there,
I was covered with praises and congratulations. O'Connell
was the warmest in the expression of his admiration : yet I
thought I could read in his eyes that there predominated over
that feeling the secret triumph of the partisan, at having con-

160 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOR BARRISTER.

tributed. to bring over a young deserter from the enemy's
camp. However, he took care that I should not go without
my reward. He moved a special resolution of thanks " to his
illustrious young friend," whom he described as " one of those
rare and felicitous combinations of human excellence, in which
the spirit of a Washington is embodied with the genius of a
Grattan." These were his very words, but my modesty was
in no way pained at them, for I believed every syllable to be
literally true.

I went home in a glorious intoxication of spirits. My suc-
cess had surpassed my most sanguine expectations. I had
now established a character for public speaking, which, inde-
pendently of the general fame that would ensue, must inevi-
tably lead to my retainer in every important case where the
passions were to be moved, and, whenever the Whigs should
come in, to a seat in the British Senate.
*###***#

After a restless night — in which however, when I did sleep,
I contrived to dream, at one time that I was at the head of my
profession, at another that I was on the opposition-side of the
House of Commons redressing Irish grievances — I sallied
forth to the Courts to enjoy the impression which my display
of the day before must have made there. On my way, my
ears were regaled by the cries of the news-hawkers, announ-
cing that the morning papers contained "Young Counsellor

's grand and elegant speech." — "This," thought I, " is

genuine fame," and I pushed on with a quickened pace toward
the Hall.

On my entrance, the first person that caught my eye was
my friend and fellow-student, Dick . We had been inti-
mate at College, and inseparable at the Temple. Our tastes
and tempers had been alike, and our political opinions the
same, except that he sometimes went far beyond me in his
abstract, enthusiasm for the rights of man. I was surprised —
for our eyes met — that he did not rush to tender me his greet-
ings. However, I went up to him, and held out my hand in
the usual cordial way. He took it, but in a very unusual w;»y,
The friendly pressure was no longer there. His countenance.

•RESULTS OF AN ORATION, 161

which heretofore had glowed with warmth at my approach,
was still and chilling. He made no allusion to my speech,
but looking round as if fearful of being observed, and mutter-
ing something about its being " Equity-day in the Exchequer,"
moved away. This was a modification of " genuine fame" for
which I was quite unprepared. In my present elevation of
spirits, however, I was rather perplexed than offended at the
occurrence. I was willing to suspect that my friend must
have found himself suddenly indisposed, or that, in spite of his
better feelings, an access of involuntary envy might have
overpowered him ; or perhaps, poor fellow, some painful sub-
ject of a private nature might be pressing upon his mind, so
as to cause this strange revolution in his manner. At the
time I never adverted to the rumor that there was shortly to
be a vacancy for a commissionership of bankrupts, nor had I
been aware that his name as a candidate stood first on the
Chancellor's list. He was appointed to the place a few days
after, and the mystery of his coldness was explained.

Yet, I must do him the justice to say that he had no sooner
attained his object than he showed symptoms of remorse for
having shaken me off. He praised my speech, in a confiden-
tial way, to a mutual friend, and I forgave him — for one gets
tired of being indignant — and to this day we converse with
our old familiarity upon all subjects except the abstract rights
of man. In the course of the morning I received many sim-
ilar manifestations of homage to my genius from others of iny
Protestant colleagues. The young, who up to that time had
sought my society, now brushed by me as if there was infec-
tion in my touch. The seniors, some of whom had occasion-
ally condescended to take my arm in the Hall, and treat me
if) prosing details of their adventures at the Temple, held
themselves suddenly aloof, and, if our glances encountered,
petrified me with looks of established order. In whatever
direction I cast my eyes, I met signs of anger or estrange-
ment, or, what was still less welcome, of pure commiseration.

Such were the first fruits of my " grand and elegant speech,"

which had combined (O'Connell, may Heaven forgive you !)

" the spirit of a Washington with the genius of a G rattan."

162 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOR BARRISTER.

I must, however, in fairness state that I was not utterly " left
alone in my glory." The Catholics certainly crowded round
me and extolled me to the skies. One eulogized my simile of
the eagle; anotlfer swore that the Corporation would never
recover from the last hit I gave them ; a third that my fortune
at the Bar was made. I was invited to all their dinner-par-
ties, and as far as " lots" of white soup and Spanish flummery
went, had unquestionably no cause to complain. The attor-
neys, in both public and private, were loudest in their admira-
tion of my rare qualifications for success in my profession ;
but, though they took every occasion, for weeks and months
after, to recur to the splendor of my eloquence, it still some-
how happened that not one of them sent me a guinea.

I was beginning to charge the whole body with ingratitude,
when I was agreeably induced to change my opinion, at least
for a while. One of the most rising among them was an old
schoolfellow of mine, named Shanahan. He might have been
of infinite service to me, but he had never employed me, even
in the most trivial matter. We were still, however, on terms
of, to me rather unpleasant familiarity ; for he affected in his
language and manners a certain waggish slang, from which my
classical sensibilities revolted. One day, as I was going my
usual rounds in the Hall, Shanahan, who held a bundle of
briefs under his arm, came up and drew me aside toward one
of the recesses. "Ned, my boy," said he, for that was his
customary style of addressing me, " I just want to tell you that
I have a sporting record now at issue, and which I'm to bring

down to for trial at the next assizes. It's an action

against a magistrate, and a Bible-distributer into the bargain,
for the seduction of a farmer's daughter. You are to be in
it — I have taken care of that — and I just want to know if
you'd like to state the case, for, if you do, it can be managed."
My heart palpitated with gratitude, but it would have been
unprofessional to give it utterance ; so I simply expressed my
leadiness^ to undertake the office. " Consider yourself, then,
retained as stating counsel," said he, but without handing me
any fee. " All you want is an opportunity of showing what
you can do with a jury, and never was there a finer one than

THE LAWYER IN LOVE. 163

this. It was just sncli another that first brought that lad there
into notice," pointing to one of the sergeants that rustled by
s. "You shall have your instructions in full time to be pre-
pared. Only hit the Bible-boy in the way I know you can,
and your name will be up on the circuit."

The next day Shan ah an called me aside again. In tho
interval, I had composed a striking exordium and peroration,
with several powerful passages of general application, to be
interspersed according as the facts should turn out, through
the body of the statement. "Ned," said the attorney to me,
as soon as we had reached a part of the Hall where there
was no risk of being overheard, "I now want to consult you
upon" — here he rather hesitated — " in fact, upon a little case
of my own." After a short pause he proceeded : "You know
a young lady from your county, Miss Dickson ?" — "Harriet
Dickson "?" — "The very one." — " Intimately well ; she's now
in town with her cousins in Harcourt street : I see her almost
every day." — " She has a very pretty property too, they
say, under her father's will — a lease for lives renewable for
ever." — " So I have always understood." — "In fact, ISTed," he
continued, looking somewhat foolish, and in a tone half slang,
half sentiment, " I am rather inclined to think — as at present
advised — that she has partly gained my affections. Come,
come, my boy, no laughing; upon my faith and soul, I'm
serious — and what's more, I have reason to think that she'll
have no objection to my telling her so : but, with those devils
of cousins at her elbow, there's no getting her into a corner
with one's self for an instant; so, what I want you to do for
me, Ned, is this — just to throw your eye over a wide-line copy
of a little notice to that effect I have been thinking of serving
her with." Here he extracted from a mass of law-documents

a paper endorsed, "Draft letter to Miss D ," and folded

up and tied with red tape like the rest. The matter corre-
sponded with the exterior. I contrived, but not without an
effort, to preserve my countenance as I perused this singular
production, in which sighs and vows were embodied in tho
language of an affidavit to hold to bail. Amid the manifold
vagaries of Cupid, it was the first time I had seen him

CONFESSIONS O& A JUNIOR BARRISTER.

exchanging his ordinary dart for an Attorney's office-pen.
When I came to the end, he asked if I thought it might be
improved. I candidly answered that it would, in my opinion^
admit of change and correction. " Then," said he, "I shall be
eternally obliged if you'll just do the needful with it. You
perceive that I have not been too explicit, for, between our-
selves, I have one or two points to ascertain about the state
of the property before I think it prudent to commit myself on
paper. It would never do, you know, to be brought into court
for a breach of promise of marriage; so you'll keep this in
vie\v, and before you begin, just cast a glance over the Statute
of Frauds." Before I could answer, he was called away to
attend a motion.

The office thus flung upon me was not of the most dignified
kind, but the seduction-case was too valuable to be risked ; so
pitting my ambition against my pride, I found the latter soon
give way ; and on the following day I presented the lover
with a declaratory effusion at once so glowing and so cautious,
so impassioned as to matters of sentiment, but withal so
guarded in point of law, that he did not hesitate to pronounce
it a masterpiece of literary composition and forensic skill. He
overwhelmed me with thanks, and went home to copy and
despatch it. I now come to the most whimsical part of the
transaction. With Miss Dickson, as I had stated to her ad-
mirer, I was extremely intimate. We had known each other
from childhood, and conversed with the familiarity rather of
cousins than mere acquaintances. When she was in town, I
saw her almost daily, talked to her of myself and my pros-
pects, lectured her on her love of dress, and in return was
always at her command for any small service of gallantry or
friendship that she might require. The next time I called, I
could perceive that I was unusually welcome. Her cousins
were with her, but they quickly retired and left us together.
As soon as we were alone, Harriet announced to me "that
she had a favor — a very great one indeed — to ask of me."
She proceeded, and with infinite command of countenance.
"There was a friend of hers — one for whom she was deeply
interested — in fact it was — but no — she must not betray a

LAW AND LOVE.

Secret — and this friend Lad the day before received a letter
containing something like, but still not exactly a proposition
of — in short, of a most interesting nature; and her friend was
terribly perplexed how to reply to it, for she was very young
and inexperienced, and all that; and she had tried two or
three times and had failed ; and then she had consulted her
.(Harriet), and she (Harriet) had also been puzzled, for the
letter in question was in fact, as far as it was intelligible, so
uncommonly well written, both in style and in sentiment, that
her friend was, of course, particularly anxious to send a suit-
able reply — and this was Harriet's own feeling, and she had
therefore taken a copy of it (omitting names) for the purpose
of showing it to me, and getting me — I was so qualified, and
so clever at my pen, and all that sort of thing — just to under-
take, if I only would, to throw upon paper just the kind of
sketch of the kind of answer that ought to be returned."

The preface over, she opened her reticule and handed me a
copy of my own composition. I would have declined the
task, but every excuse I suggested was overruled. The prin-
cipal objection — my previous retainer on the other side — I
could not in honor reveal; and I was accordingly installed in
the rather ludicrous office of conducting counsel to both par-
ties in the suit. I shall not weary the reader with a technical
detail of the pleadings, all of which I drew. They proceeded,
if I remember right, as far as a sur -rebutter — rather an unusual
thing in modern practice. Each of the parties throughout the
correspondence was charmed with the elegance and correct-
ness of the other's style. Shanahan frequently observed to
me, " What a singular thing it was that Miss Dickson was so
much cleverer at her pen than her tongue;" and once upon
banding me a letter, of which the eloquence was perhaps a
little too masculine, he protested " that he was almost afraid
to go farther in the business, for he suspected that a girl who
could express herself so powerfully on paper would, one day
or other, prove too much for him Avhen she became his wife."
But, to conclude, Shanahan obtained the lady, and the lease
for lives renewable for ever. The seduction case (as I after-
ward discovered) had been compromised the day before he

166 COJSTFESSJONS OF A JUNIOR BARRISTER.

offered me the statement; and from that day to this, though
his business increased with his marriage, he never sent me a
single brief.*

Finding that nothing was to be got by making public
speeches, or writing love-letters for attorneys, and having now
idled away some valuable years, I began to think of attending
sedulously to my profession ; and, with a view to the regula-
tion of my exertions, lost no opportunity of inquiring into the
nature of the particular qualifications by which the men whom
I saw eminent or rising around me had originally outstripped
their competitors. In the course of these inquiries, I discov-
ered that there was a newly-invented. method of getting rap-
idly into business, of which I had never heard before. The
secret was communicated to me by a friend, a king's counsel,
who is no longer at the Irish Bar. When I asked him for his
opinion as to the course of study and conduct most advisable
to be pursued, and at the same time sketched the general
plan which had presented itself to me, "Has it never struck
you," said he, " since you have walked this Hall, that there is
a shorter and a far more certain road to professional success?"
I professed my ignorance of the particular method to which he
alluded. "It requires," he continued, "some peculiar qualifi-
cations : have you an ear for music ?" — Surprised at the ques-
tion, I answered that I had. "And a good voice?" — "A
tolerable one." — "Then, my advice to you is, to take a few
lessons in psalm-singing ; attend the Bethesda regularly ; take
a part in the anthem, and the louder the better; turn up as
much of the white of your eyes as possible — and in less than
six months you'll find business pouring in upon you. You
smile, I see, at this advice; but I have never known the plan
to fail, except where the party has sung incurably out of tune.
Don't you perceive that we are once more becoming an Island
of Saints, and that half the business of these Courts passes
through their hands? When I came to the bar, a man's suc-

* This attorney's non-committal caution reminds me of another of the craft,
who challenged a man to fight a duel with him, and fixed the meeting " in the
Phoenix Park, adjacent unto the city of Dublin, and in that part of it entitled
'The Fifteen Acres' — be the same more or less." — M.

WATER IN A SlEVE. 16?

cess depended upon his exertions during tlie six working-days
of the week; but now, lie that has the dexterity to turn the
Sabbath to account is the surest to prosper : and

" ' Why should not piety be made,
As well as equity, a trade,
And men get money by devotion ')
As well as making of a motion ?' "j

These hints, though thrown out with an air of jest, made
some impression on me ; but after reflecting for some time
upon the subject, and taking an impartial view of my powers
in that way, I despaired of having hypocrisy enough for the
speculation, so I gave it up. Nothing therefore remaining,
but a more direct and laborious scheme, I now planned a
course of study in which I made a solemn vow to myself to
persevere. Besides attending the courts and taking notes of
the proceedings, I studied at home, at an average of eight
hours a-day. I never looked into any but a law-book. Even
a newspaper I seldom took up. Every thing that could touch
my feelings or my imagination I excluded from my thoughts,
as inimical to the habits of mind I now was anxious to acquire.
My circle of private acquaintances was extensive, but I man-
fully resisted every invitation to their houses. I had assigned
myself a daily task to perform, and to perform it I was deter-
mined. I persevered for two years with exemplary courage. ,
Neither the constant, unvarying, unrewarded labors of the (
day, nor the cheerless solitude of the evenings, could induce
me to relax my efforts.

I was not, however, insensible to the disheartening change,
both physical and moral, that was going on within me. All
the generous emotions of my youth, my sympathies with the
rights and interests of the human race, my taste for letters,
even my social sensibilities, were perceptibly wasting away
from want of exercise, and from the hostile influence of an \
exclusive and chilling occupation. It fared still worse with
my health : I lost my appetite a'nd rest, and of course my
strength ; a deadly pallor overcast my features ; black circles
formed round my eyes; my cheeks sank in; the tones of my
voice became feeble and melancholy ; the slightest exercise

168 CONFESSIONS OF A J0NIOE

exhausted me almost to fainting; at night I was tortured by
headaches, palpitations, and frightful dreams; my waking
reflections were equally harassing. I now deplored the sinis-
ter ambition that had propelled me into a scene for which, in
spite of all rny self-love, I began to suspect that I was utterly
unfitted. I recalled the bright prospects under which I had
entered life, and passed in review the various modes in which
I might have turned my resources to honorable and profit-
able account. The contrast was fraught with anguish and
mortification.

As I daily returned from the Courts, scarcely able to drag
my wearied limbs along, but still attempting to look as alert
and cheerful as if my success Avas certain, I frequently came
across some of my college contemporaries. Such meetings
always gave me pain. Some of them were rising in the army,
others in the church ; others, by a well-timed exercise of their
talents, were acquiring a fair portion of pecuniary competence
and literary fame. They all seemed happy and thriving, con-
tented with themselves and with all around them ; while here
was I, wearing myself down to a phantom in a dreary and
profitless pursuit, the best years of my youth already gone,
absolutely gone for nothing, and the prospect overshadowed
by a deeper gloom with every step that I advanced. The
friends whom I thus met inquired with good-nature after my
concerns ; but I had no longer the heart to talk of myself. I
broke abruptly from them, and hurried home to picture to my
now morbid imagination the forlorn condition of the evening
of life to a briefless barrister. How often, at this period, I
regretted that I had not chosen the English Bar, as I had
more than once been advised. There, if I had not prospered,
my want of success would have been comparatively unob-
served. In London I should, at the worst, have enjoyed the
immunities of obscurity ; but here my failure would be exposed
to the most humiliating publicity. Here I was to be doomed,
day after day and year after year, to exhibit myself in places
of public resort, and advertise, in my own person, the disap-
pointment of all my hopes.

These gloomy reflections Avere occasionally relieved by

HOPELESSNESS.

others of a more soothing and philosophic cast. The catas-
trophe, at the prospect of which I shuddered, it was still in
my own power to avert. The sufferings that I endured were,
after all, the factitious growth of an unwise amhition. I was
still young and independent, and might, by one manly effort,
sever myself for ever from the spell that bound me ; I might
transport myself to some distant scene, and find in tranquillity
and letters an asylum from the feverish cares that now bore me
down. The thought was full of comfort, and I loved to return
to it. I reviewed the different countries in which such a rest-
ing-place might best be found, and was not long in making a
selection. Switzerland, with her lakes and hills, and moral
and poetic associations, rose before me : there inhabiting a
delightful cottage on the margin of one of her lakes, and
emancipated from the conventional inquietudes that now
oppressed me, I should find my health and my healthy
sympathies revive.

In my present frame of mind, the charms of such a philo-
sophic retreat were irresistible. I determined to bid an eter-
nal adieu to demurrers and special contracts, and had already
fixed upon the time for executing my project, when an unex-
pected obstacle interposed. My sole means of support was
the profit-rent, of which I have already spoken. The land,
out of which it arose, lay in one of the insurrectionary dis-
tricts; and a letter from my agent in the country announced
that not a shilling of it could be collected. In the state of
nervous exhaustion to which the "blue books" and the blue
devils had reduced me, I had no strength to meet this unex- !
pected blow. To the pangs of disappointed ambition were
now added the horrors of sudden and hopeless poverty. I
sank almost without a struggle, and becoming seriously indis-
posed, was confined to my bed for a week, and for more than
a month to the house.

When I was able to crawl out, I moved mechanically toward
the Courts. On entering the Hall, I met my friend, the king's
counsel, who had formerly advised the Bethesda : he was
struck by my altered appearance, inquired with much concern
into the particulars of my recent illness, of which he had not

VOL. II.— 8

170 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOR BARRISTER.

heard before, and, urging the importance of change of air,
insisted that I should accompany him to pass a short vacation
then at hand at his country-house in the vicinity of Dublin.
The day after my arrival there, I received a second letter
from my agent, containing a remittance, aud holding out more
encouraging prospects for the future. After this I recovered
wonderfully, both in health and in spirits. My mind, so agi-
tated of late, was now, all at once, in a state of the most per-
fect tranquillity : from which I learned, for the first time, that
there is nothing like the excitement of a good practical blow
(provided you recover from it) for putting to flight a host of
imaginary cares. I could moralize at some length on this
subject, but I must hasten to a conclusion.

The day before our return to town, my friend had a party
of Dublin acquaintances at his house : among the guests was

the late Mr. D , an old attorney in considerable business,

and his daughter. In the evening, though it was summer-
time, we had a dance. I led out Miss D : I did so, I

seriously declare, without the slightest view to the important
consequences that ensued. After the dance, which (I remem-
ber it well) was to the favorite and far-famed " Leg-of-Mutton
jig," I took my partner aside, in the usual way, to entertain
her. I began by asking if " she was not fond of poetry ?"
She demanded "why I asked the question?" I said, "Be-
cause I thought I could perceive it in the expression of her
eyes." She blushed, " protested I must be flattering her, but
admitted that she was." I then asked " if she did not think
the Corsair a charming poem ?" She answered, " Oh, yes !" — >
"And would not she like to be living in one of the Grecian
islands'?" — "Oh, indeed she would." — "Looking upon the
blue waters of the Archipelago and the setting sun, associated
as they were with the rest." — " How delightful it would be !"
exclaimed she. "And so refreshing /" said I. I thus con-
tinued till we were summoned to another set. She separated
from me with reluctance, for I could see that she considered
iny conversation to be the sublirnest thing that could be.

The effect of the impression I had made soon appeared.
Two days after, I received a brief in rather an important case

REALITY V. ROMANCE. 171

from her father's office. I acquitted myself so much to his
satisfaction, that he sent me another, and another, and finally-
installed me as one of his standing* counsel for the junior busi-
ness of his office. The opportunities thus afforded me brought
me by degrees into notice. In the course of time, general
business began to drop in upon me, and has latterly been
increasing into such a steady stream, that I am now inclined
to look upon my final success as secure.

I have only to add,- that the twelve years I have passed at
the Irish Bar have worked a remarkable change in some of
my early tastes and opinions. I no longer, for instance. ,
trouble my head about immortal fame; and, such is the forcei
of habit, have brought myself to look upon a neatly -fohledV
brief, with a few crisp Bank-of-Ireland notes on the back of it, I
as, beyond all controversy, the most picturesque object upon |
which the human eye can alight.

LORD MANNERS.

ON the 31st day of July, in the year of our Lord 1827, Lord
Manners, the late Keeper of his Majesty's Irish Conscience,
bade the Irish bar farewell.* The scene which took place
upon that melancholy occasion deserves to be recorded. It
being understood that an address of professional condolence
on behalf of the more loyal portion of the bar was to be pro-
nounced by that tender enunciator of pathetic sentiment, the
Attorney-General, the Court of Chancery was crowded at an
early hour. The members of the Beef-Steak Club, with coun-
tenances in which it was difficult to determine whether their
grief at the anticipated " export" from Ireland, or the traces

* Lord Manners, was son of Lord George Manners, of the Ducal house of
Rutland. He was born in 1756, was educated at Cambridge, where he obtained
the honor of being fifth wrangler, and, having been called to the bar, in due
time became Solicitor-General to the Prince of Wales, and one of his parlia-
mentary adherents. In 1802, when made Solicitor-General to the king, he was
knighted. In 1803 he was one of the official prosecutors of Colonel Despard,
tried and executed for high treason. He was made one of the Barons of the
Exchequer in 1805, and in 1807 was raised to the peerage, on being appointed
Lord-Chancellor of Ireland, as successor to Mr. Ponsonby. On demanding the
Seals, with all wonted formality, he discovered that he had accidentally left
behind him the authority for assuming the new dignity ! Lord Manners held
the Irish Chancellorship for twenty years — until July, 1827, when he was re-
called, and succeeded by Sir Anthony Hart. As an equity judge, he wanted
capacity, and was further deficient, by being a decided political partisan. Many
of his judgments were reversed by the House of Lords, and nothing but the
fact that he was ultra-Protestant in his principles could have retained him, so
long, in a position where the general opinion of the profession as to his con-
duct and qualifications was contemptuous in the extreme. He died in May,
1842, iged eighty-six. — M.

HIS FRIENDSHIP FOE MR. SAURIN. 173

of tlieir multitudinous convivialities, enjoyed a predominance,
filled the galleries on either side. The junior aristocracy of
the bar, for whom the circuits have few attractions, occupied
the body of the court; while the multitude of King's counsel,
in whom his Majesty scarcely finds a verification of the divine
saying of Solomon, were arrayed along the benches, where it
is their prerogative to sit, in the enjoyment of that leisure
which the public so un frequently disturb. The assembly
looked exceedingly dejected and blank. A competition in
sorrow appeared to have been got up between the rival admi-
rers of his Lordship, the Pharisees of Leeson and the Saddu-
cees of the Beef-Steak Club. " The Saints," however, from
their habitual longitude of visage, and the natural alliance be-
tween their lugubrious devotion and despair, had a decided
advantage over the statesmen of revelry and the legislators
of song; and it was admitted on all hands that Mr. M'Kaskey
should yield the palm of condolence to a certain pious Ser-
geant, into whom the whole spirit of the prophet Jeremy ap-
peared to have been infused.

But the person most deserving of attention was Mr. Saurin.
Lord Manners had been his intimate associate for twenty years.
He had, upon his Lordship's first arrival in Ireland, pre-occu-
pied his mind ; he took advantage of his opportunities of access,
and, having crept like an earwig into his audience, he at last
effected a complete lodgment in his mind. Mr. Saurin estab
lished a masterdorn over his faculties, and gave to all his pas
sions the direction of his own. A very close intimacy grew
up between them, which years of intercourse cemented into
regard. They were seen every day walking together to the
court, with that easy lounge which indicated the carelessness
and equality of their friendship. In one instance only had
Lord Manners been wanting in fidelity to his companion. He
had been commissioned to inform him (at least he was himself
six months before apprized of the intended movement) that
Mr. Plunket would, in return for hrs services to the Adminis-
tration, be raised to the office of Attorney-General for Ireland.
Had Mr. Saurin been informed of this determination, lie might
have acted more wisely than he did, when, in a fit of what his

174: LORD MANNERS.

advocates have been pleased to call magnanimity, but which
was nothing else than a paroxysm of offended arrogance, he
declined the Chief-Justiceship of the King's Bench ! Lord
Wellesley took him at his word, and gave him no opportunity
to retrace his steps. He would not, at all events, have been
taken unawares. Mr. Saurin is not conspicuous for his tenden-
cies to forgiveness, but he pardoned the person in whose favor,
of all others, a barrister should make an exception from his
vindictive habits. Their intercourse was renewed ; and what-
ever might have been the state of their hearts, their arms con-
tinued to be linked together. This intimacy was noted by the
solicitors, and, although deprived of his official power, Mr.
Smirin retained his business, and the importance which at-
tends it.

The resignation, therefore, of Lord Manners,* to whose court
his occupations were confined, was accounted a personal mis-
fortune to himself. From the peculiar circumstances in which
he was placed, he drew the general notice in the scene of sep-
aration, and was an object of interest to those who, without
any political sympathy or aversion, are observers of feeling,
and students of the human heart. In justice to him it should
be stated that his bearing did not greatly deviate from his ordi-
nary demeanor, and that he still looked the character which
he had been for some time playing, if -not with profit, yet not
without applause, as the stoic of Orangeism, and the Cato of
" a falling state." Not that he appeared altogether insensible,
but, in his sympathies, his own calamities did not seem to have
any very ostensible share : any expression of a melancholy

* He was succeeded by Sir Anthony Hart, born in 1759 at St Kitt's, in the
West Indies. He was once a Unitarian preacher at Norwich ; went to the En-
glish bar ; practised in equity for many years, and with such success that he
was then made Master of the Rolls, succeeded Sir John Leach as Vice-Chan-
cellor of England, in April, 1827, and was then knighted. In Ireland he gave
much satisfaction, by reason of the soundness and impartiality of his judgments.
He literally had no politics, and prided himself on being a lawyer and nothing
elge — in strong contrast to his predecessor, who was apolitical partisan and
not much of a lawyer. He retired from office, at the close of 1830, when the
Grey Ministry appointed Plunket to succeed him, and died December, 1831,
aged seventy-two. — M.

MR. JOY. 175

kind, that was perceivable through his dark and Huguenot
complexion, seemed to arise more immediately from the pains
of friendship than from any sentiment in more direct connec-
tion with himself.

I can not avoid thinking, however, that his mind must have
been full of scorpion recollections : there was, at least, one in-
cident which must have deeply stung him. Had the address
to Lord Manners been pronounced by Mr. Plunket, Mr. Saurin
might have been reconciled to the representation of the bar, in
the person of a man who had long approved himself his supe-
rior. But to see his own proselyte holding the place to which
he "had acquired a sort of prescriptive right, and to witness in
Henry Joy the Attorney-General to a Whig Administration,
while he was himself without distinction or office, was, I am
sure, a source of corrosive feelings, and must have pained him
to the core.

It would, however, have been a misfortune for the lovers of
ridicule, if any man except Mr. Joy had pronounced the ad-
dress which was delivered to the departing Chancellor. He is
a great master of mockery, and looks a realization of Goethe's
Mephistophiles. So strong is his addiction to that species of
satire which is contained in exaggerated praise, that he scarcely
ever resorts to any other species of vituperation. Nature has
been singularly favorable to him. His short and upturned nose
is admirably calculated to toss his sarcasms off; his piercing
and peering eyes gleam and flash in the voluptuousness of
malice, and exhibit the keen delight with which he revels in
ridicule and luxuriates in derision. His chin is protruded, like
that of the Cynic listening to St. Paul, in Raphael's Cartoon.
His muscles are full of flexibility, and are capable of adapting
themselves to every modification of irony. They have the
advantage, too, of being covered with a skin that dimples into
sneers with a plastic facility, and looks like a manuscript of
Juvenal found in the ashy libraries of Herculaneum. In this
eminent advocate, such an assemblage of physiognomical
qualifications for irony are united, as I scarcely think the
countenance of any orator in the ancient city of Sardos could
have presented. His face was an admirable commentary

176 LOKD MANNERS.

on the enormity of the encomium which he was deputed to
offer.

The "Evening Mail,"* indeed, the official organ of the Or-
ange faction in Ireland, gives a somewhat different account of
this amusing exhibition. " Every sound," says that graphic
journalist, " was hushed, while the Attorney-General, with a
tremulous voice, but with a feeling and emphasis which showed
that the sentiments expressed came directly from his heart,"
and so forth. Then follows the address. I forbear from set-
ting forth the whole of it, but select a single sentence : "We,"
said Mr. Joy, " can not but admire that distinguished ability,
that strict impartiality, and that unremitting assiduity, with
which you have discharged the various duties of your office."
The delivery of this sentence was a masterpiece of sarcastic
recitation ; and, to any person who desired to become a profi-
cient in the art of sneering, of which Mr. Joy is so renowned a
professor, afforded an invaluable model.

Cicero, in his oratorical treatise, has given an analysis of
the manner in which certain fine fragments of eloquence have
been delivered ; and for the benefit of the students of irony, it
may not be improper to enter with some minuteness into a
detail of the varieties of excellence with which Mr. Joy pro-
nounced this flagitious piece of panegyric. With this view, I
shall take each limb of the sentence apart. — " We can not but
admire:" — In uttering these words, he gave his head that
slight shake, with which he generally announces that he is
about to let loose some formidable sarcasm. He paused at the

* The Dublin Evening Mail, long the leading ultra-Tory and ultra-Protestant
newspaper in Ireland, was commenced in the heat of the agitation on the
Catholic question, and obtained immediate notoriety and influence, by means
of the talent and vigor with which it was conducted, and its boldness in per-
sonality. Curiously enough, the proprietors (brothers, named Sheehan), had
been Catholics, and the violence of their Protestantism was greater (on that
account? — for who so violent as a renegade ?) than if they had been born to
it. During the Session of Parliament, Remmy Sheehan resided in London,
very much in the confidence of the leaders of the Tory party, and his corre-
spondence in the Evening Mail often anticipated even the leading London pa-
pers in political information. The Mail still flourishes — but Remmy Sheehan
is no more. It was said that he returned to the Catholic faith, before he
died.— M,

8ARCASM IN DISGUISE. 177

same time, as if lie felt a qualm of conscience at what lie was
about to speak and experienced a momentary commiseration
for the victim of his cruel commendations. This feeling, of
compassion, however, only lasted for an instant, and he as-
sumed the aspect that became the utterance of the vituperative
adulation which he had undertaken to inflict. " We can not
but admire the distinguished ability :" — At the word "ability"
it was easy to perceive that he could w-ith difficulty restrain his
sense of extravagance from breaking into laughter. However,
he did succeed in keeping down the spirit of ridicule within
the just boundaries of derision. At the same time he convey-
ed to his auditors (the Chancellor excepted) the whole train
of thought that was passing in his mind ; and by the magic
of his countenance recalled a series of amusing recollections.
It was impossible to look at him without remembering the ex-
hibitions which for twenty years had made the administration
of justice in the Irish Court of Chancery the subject of Lord
Redesdale's laughter, and of John Lord Eldon's tears. He
spoke it with such a force of mockery, that he at once brought to
the mind of the spectators that spirit of ignorant self-sufficiency,
and presumptuous precipitation, with which Lord Manners dis-
charged the business of his court. A hundred cases seemed
to rise in his face. Stackpoole and Stackpoole appeared in
the curl of his lip ; Blake and Foster quivered in the move-
ment of his nostrils ; Brossley against the Corporation of Dub-
lin appeared in his twinkling eyes; and "reversal" seemed
to be written in large characters between his brows.*

The next sarcasm which this unmerciful adulator proceeded
to apply, turned on his lordship's selection of magistrates. At

* All these were important cases, which Lord Manners decided one way,
while the House of Lords, assisted by the judges of England, on appeal, deci-
ded that he was wholly and almost flagrantly in error. — It would have been dif-
ficult, I suspect, to have found a worse equity judge than Lord Manners. Some
time after his death, while I was going over these Sketches with Mr. Shell, I
asked his opinion of Lord Manners. His reply was emphatic enough : — " Go
out into the street — pick up the first man in a decent coat, who is able to give
correct replies to any three culinary questions you may put to him — put that
man on the Lord-Chancellor's scat, in Dublin, and he must make a better judge
ihftu Lord Manners was." — M.

8*

178 LOED MANNERS.

the utterance of "strict impartiality," the smile of Mr. Joy
gleamed with a still yellower lustre over his features, and
he threw his countenance into so expressive a grimace, that
the whole loyal, but pauper magistracy of Ireland was brought
at once to my view. I beheld a long array of insolvent jus-
tices with their arms out at the elbows, who had been honored,
by virtue of their Protestantism, with his Majesty's commission
of the peace.*

I did not think it possible for the powers of irony to go be-
yond this last achievement of the Attorney-General, until ho
came to talk of his lordship's unremitting assiduity. It was
well known to every man at the Bar, that Lord Manners ab-
horred his occupations. He trembled at an enthymem, lie
sunk under a sorites, and was gored by the horns of a dilem-

* It may be scarcely worth mention — but I may as well state that, when I
lived in Ireland (five-and-twenty years ago : eheufiigaces anni .') I had frequent
occasion to notice that the Catholics preferred going before a Protestant magis-
trate, even though a justice of their own persuasion might be nearer their vicin-
ity. When I was a boy, I passed much of my time at the house of my uncle,
the late John Shclton, of Rossmore, in my native county of Limerick, and I
noticed that the peasantry always brought their complaints before him in prefer-
ence to a Catholic Justice of the Peace who lived on the other side of the
mountain, and nearer to their homes. Their complaint was that their own
magistrate " was too severe, entirely, upon them." So, a few years after, when
I was at school, at Fermoy, «i the county of Cork, there was an excellent man,
and a Catholic (Thomas Dennehy, of Belleview), who was a magistrate. He
lived near Carrigaline, and between Glandalane and Fermoy, but the peasantry
and the small farmers always passed him by, and went before George Walker,
a Protestant magistrate. I ascertained the cause — the Catholic Justices who
were " few and far between," were so much exposed to, arid afraid of, censure,
that they usually inclined a trifle toward a Protestant complainant or defendant
— for fear that they should be suspected of partiality toward persons or their
own creed. — Perhaps I should apologize for thus bringing my own expediences
into this note ; but, when I resided, as a child, with my uncle, the magistrate,
in the county of Limerick, I was usually thrust into the library, on we: days,
being accused (very unjustly, of course) of being " a troublesome lad.' This
library consisted exclusively of a complete set of Walker's Hibernian Maguzine,
recording Irish history during the time of the Union, as well as many years
preceding and following it, and the repeated perusal of these magazines made
me so familiar with Irish matters that I recollect nearly all they told me — vhich
may account for the particular Hiid distinctive details which I have put into
tjjese note?.— ftl,

AS A SPORTSMAN.

ma. fiis irritability in court was the subject of universal com-
plaint. He seemed to labor under an incapacity of fixing his
attention for any continuity of time to any given matter of
meditation ; and by his wriggling in his seat during the ad-
mirable arguments of Mr. Pennefather, and his averted eye,
and the puffing of his cheeks, exhibited his strong distaste for
reasoning, and the horror which he entertained for all indue?
tive thought. It was in frosty weather that his excitability
and fret fulness of temperament were particularly conspicuous.
He was fond of shooting, and if he was detained by a long
argument beyond the usual period which he allowed to the
hearing of causes, about Christmas, he broke out into fits and
starts of ludicrous irritation. Mr. Plunket used to say that
whenever Lord Manners heard the name of Mr. Hitchcock (a
gentleman of the Irish Bar of considerable talents) his lordship
used to start, as if it were " Hish ! Cock!" that had struck
his ear. The memory of the Attorney-General, in compliment-
ing him on his "unremitting assiduity," was, I am sure, car-
ried back to those scenes of judicial impatience, in which,
when the mercury stood at the freezing point, his lordship's
intolerance of all argument was exemplified. The look with
which Mr. Joy executed the recitation of this portion of his
address, was, if possible, a higher feat. It was the chef-d'oeuvre
of mockery, and masterpiece of derision. His eyes, his brows,
his nose and chin. — But I will not undertake to describe him
•—enough to say, that such was the potency of his sarcasm,
that I was transported in fancy to the Duke of Leinster's de-
mesne at Carton, where his lordship used to shoot, and I be-
held him amid those brambles of which he was much fonder
than the thorny quicksets of the law, with his chancellor hat,
a green jacket, a scarlet waistcoat, silk breeches, and long
black gaiters, which constituted his usual sporting attire.

I was, however, recalled from this excursion of the imagin
ation, by the farewell address of his lordship to the Bar. The
Attorney-General had concluded, and Lord Manners rose to bid
it a long adieu. It did him great credit that he did not fol-
low the example of Lord Redesdale, who wept and whimpered
upon his taking leave of Irelalid and ten thousand a year.

I8() LORD MANNERS.

Lord Manners Lad the materials of consolation in his pocket,
having received about two hundred thousand pounds of the
public money, for " the distinguished ability, the strict impar-
tiality, and unremitting assiduity," of which Mr. Joy had per-
formed the panegyric. So far from indulging in any lachry-
matory mood, his lordship proved himself a partisan to the
last, by giving vent to his factious antipathies against the
Solicitor-General. He had strenuously resisted the nomina-
tion of Mr. Doherty to the office, for which his talents as a
speaker, both in Parliament and at the Bar, had eminently
qualified him. There was not an individual of the profession,
who did not feel convinced that Lord Manners was actuated
by an hostility arising from political motives, founded upon
Mr. Doherty's support of Catholic Emancipation.

Nearly the last sentence in his address is copied from the
Evening Mail. " If," said his lordship, " I have disap-
pointed or delayed the expectations of any gentleman of the
Bar, I lament it. I can assure you, gentlemen, I have not
been actuated by a personal motive, or hostile feeling against
him, but by a sense of duty imposed on me, in the situation in
which I am placed to protect the fair claims of the Bar, by
resisting, to the utmost of my power, the interference of par-
liamentary or political interest in the advancements in the
law." It is obvious that under the veil of affected regret
which Lord Manners states himself to have felt at having,
with a view to the promotion of Sergeant Lefroy, opposed the
wishes of Mr. Canning and the directions of the Cabinet, there
lurks in the intimation that his lordship had opposed the inter-
ference of parliamentary and political interest, a reflection
upon Mr. Doherty, of which good feeling, as well as a sense
of justice, should have forbidden the expression. This Par-
thian arrow should not have been discharged at such a mo-
ment. It was not a time for the indulgence of acrimonious
feelings.

But, independently of the factious rancor which is conveyed

in this reference to Mr. Doherty, it is surprising that such a

want of ordinary discretion should have been manifested by

an individual who was himself so obnoxious to the unkind

,••- ' -"«—•• '-*

MiS INCOMPETENCE. IB!

observation with which, at parting, he wantonly aspersed the
advancement of a member of the bar. Lord Manners had
objected to Mr. Doherty upon the ground of his juniority.
He was not, himself, of as long standing at the English Bar
when he was created Solicitor-General. Mr. Doherty was at
the head of his circuit, where he had evinced as high qualifi-
cations as a speaker as any gentleman in the whole profession.
Lord Manners was unemployed at the bar, except when he got
a brief from his brother-in-law, a solicitor of Lincoln's Inn.
Lord Manners' objection to the exercise of parliamentary or
political interest seems to be equally strange. What but the
power of the house of Rutland could ever have raised a man
of his feeble understanding and slight acquirements to the
office of Lord Chancellor of Ireland, to the discharge of whose
duties he was so utterly incompetent, that his able and eru-
dite successor can scarcely refrain from expressing astonish-
ment at the spirit of blunder in which almost every one of
Lord Manners's orders, which came before him for revision, is
conceived ?

After Lord Manners had delivered his valedictory commem-
oration of his own deserts, he proceeded to his house in Ste-
phen's Green,* for the purpose of receiving a deputation from
the Corporation of Dublin, between whom and his Lordship
twenty years of devoted adherence to the cause of loyal mo-
nopoly had established a profound sympathy. The Corpora-

* Stephen's Green is a square in Dublin, an Irish mile in circumference, if
you walk round it by the houses : an English mile, if you measure by the cir-
cumference of the area within surrounded by iron railings. I should mention
that Irish longitudinal exceed English miles, in the proportion of 11 of the
former, to 14 of the latter. — Miss Edgeworth told a story of a traveller who
complained to a Paddy, of the narrowness of the roads. " True enough," said
]'at, " but what you lose in the breadth, you gain in the length." In my time
the roads were excellent and not deficient in width. The system of Macad.
amization, as it is barbarously called, was practised on the Irish turnpike road*
a hundred years before a " canny Scot" filched it, from Ireland, and made a for-
tune out of, and won a title from, John Bull, by passing it off as his own dis-
covery. In 1847, under the Labor Expenditure system, some of the finest
roads in Ireland were torn up, under the idea of improving them, and, the funds
failing, before the " improvements" commenced, the poor roads were left in
the mined condition to which they had been reduced! — M.

J82 LORD MANNERS.

tion of Dublin, it must be on all hands admitted, were under
extraordinary obligations to Lord Manners : a deficiency in
their accounts to the amount of upward of forty thousand
pounds had been the subject of a bill in Chancery, at the suit
of Mr. Bros^ley, who, at the instance of the Chamber of Com-
merce, had taken proceedings in order to compel them to
disgorge the produce of their systematic extortion from the
citizens of Dublin. To the astonishment of the whole Bar,
Lord Manners refused all relief. I well remember the indig-
nation of Mr. Plunket, when the Chancellor pronounced his
decree. He shook his hand in mingled scorn for his intel-
lect, and anger at the everlasting effrontery of the decision.
The decree has been since opprobriously reversed in the
House of Lords.

But the Corporation were grateful for the manifestations of
his Lordship's good-will ; and accordingly on the day of his
departure, and after he had taken his farewell of the bar,
the Lord-Mayor, the sheriffs, and Sir Abraham Bradley King,
together with a train of civic baronets and knights, with whom
his Majesty has repaired the exhausted aristocracy of Ireland,
waited upon Lord Manners. The following is an extract from
their address, taken from the faithful record, from which a
relation has been already made : " We are not insensible that
by your undeviating loyalty to your Sovereign, and attach-
ment to the true and genuine principles of an unrivalled Con-
stitution in Church a.ud State, you have been exposed to the
malignant attacks of base and dastardly 'demagogues, upheld
by the vile vituperations of a licentious piess."

The Evening Mail proceeds to state, that after the Town-
Clerk had concluded (for it seems that a Lord-Mayor does not
enjoy the advantages of Dogberry, and that reading and
writing do not come to him by nature), his Lordship placed his
hand upon his heart, and read the following answer : " After
a residence of upward of twenty years in your capital, where
my conduct in public and private life must be well known to
you, this mark of approbation from the highly-respectable and
loyal Corporation of the City of Dublin can not fail to be
extremely gratifying tome: I receive it with pleasure, and

HIS SElF-t>£LtfSlOtt.

(Shall remember it with gratitude. If I have any claim to Le
distinguished by you, it must arise front my having anxiously
confined myself to the judicial duties of my office, and care-
fully abstained, as far as was consistent with the trust reposed
in me, from interfering in party or political topics. This line
of conduct has justified me in the consideration of your consti-
tutional body, and may, in some degree, have entitled me to
those expressions of kindness and good opinion which accom-
pany your address, and for which I return you my warmest
acknowledgments. I do assure you, my Lord-Mayor and gen-
tlemen, I shall always feel a strong interest in the prosperity
of your Corporation, and a grateful sense of the obligations I
owe to Ireland."

The Evening Mail mentions that the Chancellor then
handed the address to the Lord-Mayor; but it omits to record
that the worthy functionary stood before the Chancellor in a
state of cataleptic astonishment. The whole of his attendants,
from the High-Sheriffs down to the Rev. Tighe Gregory, and
Mr. David M'Cleary, the oratorical tailor, who cut out Sir
Abraham Bradley's surtout, participated in the feeling of the
Lord-Mayor, and stood with their eyes fixed upon the Chancel-
lor, like the statues of amazement in all its different forms.*

The assurance given by his Lordship that he had never
interfered in politics, struck them into stupefaction. Lord
Manners was at a loss to account for this phenomenon, and
vainly endeavored to rouse the Lord-Mayor from the influ-
ences of wonder to a consciousness of external objects. He
placed the address in his hand, but it dropped out of it. He

* Sir A. B. King, Dr. Gregory, and Davy M'Cleary, were members of the Corpo-
ration of Dublin, in those days, and (as such) violent partisans and politicians.
King was Stationer to the Crown, and the Grey Ministry broke his patent,
thereby annulling the lucrative appointment. King, nearly ruined, and half
heart-broken, went to O'Connell, against whom he had been making speeches
for twenty years, and placed himself and his case in the hands of his old oppo-
nent. O'Connell devoted himself to the matter, obtained a pension of twelve
hundred pounds sterling, for King, as compensation, and the Orangeman's
death-bed words were of gratitude to O'Connell. M'Cleary is also dead.
Gregory got a rich living in Ireland, and expecting no more gain by politics, is
now a rational man. — M.

184. LOUD MAKNEK3.

adopted various other expedients, but in vain. At length, how~-
ever, he bethought himself of an artifice, which was attended
with instantaneous success; and, as the Evening Mail has it,
" invited the Lord Mayor and Corporation to partake of a
collation prepared for them." The doors of an adjoining room
were thrown open, and the moment the enchanting spectacle
which was presented by a splendid banquet was disclosed, at
the sight of " cold meats, fowls, turkeys" (they are thus enu-
merated in the gazette of loyalty), the effect was sudden and
complete; they recovered at once from the petrifying power
of astonishment, and precipitated themselves upon the viands
which were prepared for them, with a voracity which well
became "the ancient, loyal," hungry, and bankrupt Corpora-
tion of Dublin.*

* It was for calling it " a beggarly Corporation," in 1815, that Mr D'Esterre
challenged Mr. O'Connell — which ended in his own death. — M.

THE MANNERS TESTIMONIAL

CERTAIN of the bar, consisting, to a great extent, of ihe et<5J-
nal perambulators of the Hall, have recently subscribed for &
piece of plate, which is to be called " The Manners Testimo-
nial, or Forensic Souvenir." It was originally intended to
throw the contributions of the profession into a silver cup, where-
with his Lordship might deeply drink to the memory of King
William and to the oblivion of himself; but it was discovered
that this ingenious idea had been forestalled by the Corpora-
tion, and it was determined, after mature consultation, to pre-
sent the late Chancellor with a massive salver, upon which the
principal incidents of his life should be represented. For the
purpose of completing the commemorative donation, it became
necessary to impose a new rate upon the loyalty of the bar.
To this proposition the Commissioners of Bankrupts, notwith-
standing their obligations to his Lordship, were at first strenu-
ously opposed, not a single docket having been lately struck :
but upon the change of Ministry, a rumor having gone abroad
that Lord Manners was to return to administer justice, as he
always did, indifferently in Ireland, Che prudential objections
of the judicial dignitaries of the Royal Exchange were laid
aside. A sufficient fund has been collected, after a good deal
of application to the political virtue and individual gratitude
of the friends and admirers of Lord Manners, and a very fine
piece of plate has been produced. It is not as yet quite fin-
ished ; but, through the interest of Sergeant Lefroy with the
pious silversmith to whom it has been intrusted, I have suc-
ceeded in obtaining an inspection. The salver contains, in
exquisite relief, a record of the chief adventures of his Lord-

TtiE MANNERS TESTIMONIAL.

ship's judicial and political life, together with an exemplifica-
tion of the most characteristic traits of his character. If a
contemporaneous commentary were not published, the figures
which are introduced into this memorial of legal sensibility
might hereafter afford as much matter for skeptical speculation
as the celebrated shield in " Martinus Scriblerus" With a
view, therefore, to assist the curiosity of future antiquarians
some account of " The Manners Testimonial, or Forensic Sou-
venir," will be briefly given.

Upon the border, the busts of the most celebrated members
of the bar, who have been most conspicuous in " getting the
thing up," are admirably embossed. Mr. Whyte occupies, of
necessity, a very considerable space in this part of the testi-
monial. A good deal of dead silver has been employed in
doing him justice. Exactly opposite to Mr. Whyte, Mr. Petei
Fitzgibbon Henchey appears with that look of egregious dig-
nity which is peculiar to him. I am, however, inclined to think
that the artist did not seize him at the most felicitous moment,
for there is a touch of sadness in his importance. Perhaps the
funds had sustained some sudden declination at the time ; and
the battle of Navarino has left its traces on his brow : or, per-
adventure (and that were the more amiable hypothesis), Mr.
Henchey has discovered in Sir Anthony Hart a lamentable
inferiority to his discriminating predecessor, and an unconsti-
tutional disposition to lend an equal attention to the Catholics
of the outer and to the Protestants of the inner bar. The rest
of the heads that form a border to the testimonial are very ex-
actly copied from most of the King's counsel, whom Lord Man-
ners left as an appropriate deposite behind him. I do not
know why Mr. Perrin and Mr. Richard Moore have been
omitted.

But it is upon the reliefs in the body of the salver that the
greatest skill has been displayed both in execution and in de-
sign. A series of beautiful biographical illustrations has been
introduced, in the first of which Lord Manners appears, at the
English bar, with an empty bag. In the background, the Min-
ister is perceived eying him from a distance ; while the Duke
of Portland, who seems to be engaged in earnest discourse

LORD MAIN NEKS AND THE JESUITS. 187

with the official detector of latent desert, points with one hand
to the House of Commons, and with the other to the Bench.

In the next scene his Lordship is represented, in the enact-
ment of the part of Baron Manners at the Assizes of Lancaster,
trying the case of Weld v. Hornby (reported in 7 East 195),
ivhen his Lordship delivered an illegal but constitutional charge
against the Jesuits of Stonyhurst. The case involved the right
of the Jesuits to fish in the river Ribble, and it is surprising
what an early zeal in the cause of Protestantism was displayed
by the puisne Baron, who was afterward intrusted with the
selection of impartial magistrates in Ireland. In the execution
of this relief, great ingenuity has been evinced. I can not,
however, say that the workmanship has surpassed the mate-
rials. The courthouse is filled Avith Jesuits. They are with-
out their caps and gowns, which at Stonyhurst they did not
presume to wear, although at Clongowes Wood, under Mr,
O'Connell's advice, and the Solicitor-General's opinion, the
body-guard of the Pope appear in full regimentals. Notwith-
standing the w$nt of the insignia of Loyolism, it is easy, from
the expression of their faces, to detect the disciples of Ignatius.
I recognise the deeply -furrowed face of Mr. Plowden,* in which
time never could succeed in impairing the powerful St. Omer's
physiognomy, for which he was remarkable. The likeness is
so faithful, that I am disposed to think that Mr. Cruize, who
sprang out of the hot-bed of orthodoxy, must have supplied the
artist with a sketch of his old confessor. The very able chair-
man of the county of Clare, together with Mr. Nicholas Ball,
who is rising so rapidly to the first eminence at the bar, are
represented among a group of boys in the gallery of the court-
house. I think that I can also discover, in an acrimonious-
looking urchin, who is taking down a note of Baron Manners'
charge, the face of Mr. Sheil. The Judge is in the act of addres-
sing the jury, with strong indications of loyal excitement, over

* The late Francis Plowden was an Irish barrister, author of a History of
Ireland, popular in his day. He wrote two or three other books, chiefly on le-
gal subjects. He was sued for a libel in his History, and cast in five thousand
pounds sterling damages, rather than pay which, he retired to France, where
he died, in 1829, at an advanced age. — Mf

188 THE MANNERS TESTIMONIAL.

the bench in which he presides. The artist has engraven the
significant motto, " Qualis ab inccpto" In the perspective there
is a representation of the English Court of King's Bench, with
Lord Ellenborongh laughing grimly at the misdirections of the
learned Judge, whose verdict he is in the act of ignominiously
setting aside. Some of Lord Manners's friends objected to the
record of this early incident in his judicial story ; but it was
answered that the illegality of his opinions was more than
counterbalanced by his zeal for the constitution, and that the
evidence of his inveterate Protestantism should be preserved
at the expense of his legal reputation. It was besides observed,
and with reason, that however his judgment might be obscured
by his emotions, yet the purity of his intentions could not be
brought into question.

After this specimen of his feats upon the English Bench, the
records of his Irish Chancellorship appear. He is represented,
on his arrival in Ireland, with Mr. Saurin bidding him wel-
come. An earwig is seen creeping into his ear. This is fol
lowed by Lord Manners presiding in court: Mr. O'Connell is
addressing him, while his Lordship's eye is averted, and his
cheeks are filled with the materials of a puff, which the learned
Lord is preparing to discharge. The crier of the court is seen
lighting the fire in the gallery, and throwing Vesey Junior and
the Statutes into the flames. Various views of impatient adju-
dication occupy this part of the testimonial. The spirit of ju-
dicial hurry, for which his Lordship was remarkable, may at
first view appear to be objectionable. But it must be remem-
bered that, however the suitors may suffer, the counsel are
gainers by the precipitation of a Judge. At present, for ex-
ample, Sir Anthony Hart insists that due consideration shall
be given to ev-ery cause of a difficult nature. The consequence
is, that where twelve were heard, but not listened to, in a sin-
gle day by Lord Manners, the present Chancellor bestows an
equal time to a single cause. It is true that the parties are
satisfied by his decision, and the occupation of Lord Redes-
dale in the House of Lords seems likely to be gone ; but the
counsel's fees are in proportion diminished j the crisp paper of
the $an]$: °f Inland is no longer seen in such rapid circulation

JUDICIAL MISDOINGS. 189

through the inner bar ; and Sergeant Lefroy having stated his
case in the morning, lias leisure during the rest of the day to
devote himself to less sublunary pursuits, and may exclaim
with Hamlet, " For my own poor part, I will go pray."

I do not think it necessary to go through the whole of the
reliefs which are intended to illustrate Lord Manners's judicial
excellences. Dow's parliamentary cases contain an ample
commentary on his faculties. One scene, however, in the tes-
timonial, relating to this portion of his Lordship's character, is
deserving of mention. I allude to the case of "Pirns, minors."
Lord Manners decided, without principle or precedent, that
the infant daughters of a Catholic mother should be removed
from her society on account of her profession of the illegal reli-
gion. The artist has chosen the separation of Mrs. Pirn and
of her family for the manifestation of his pathetic powers.
Lord Manners surveys the spectacle of domestic anguish with
a calm philosophy, in the expression of which it was no doubt
intended to intimate that his high sense of public duty subdued
in his Lordship's mind those infirmities to which, wherever the
interests of Protestantism were concerned, he was never known,
although in many respects a kind and amiable man, to give
way.

He is next represented in his capacity of Superintendent of
the Magistracy of Ireland, and in the act of refusing the com-
mission of the peace to Sir Patrick Bellew, a Roman Catholic
baronet of ancient family, and of considerable fortune ; while
the description of individuals whom he considered entitled to
that important trust is illustrated by a group of pauper justices
in the county of Waterford, who are seen in the background.
One would at first take them to be a corps of the Mendicity
Association ; but the commission of the peace, which is seen
sticking out of the rents of their ragged pockets, indicates their
office ; while the lilies that hang from their tattered shirts are
beautifully emblematic of their constitutional qualifications.

His Lordship next appears as a member of the House of
Lords. He is seen addressing his brother-peers on the trial of
the Queen, when he called the consort of a King, and the child-
less mother of a buried Princess, " this woman J" The feeling

190 THE MANNERS TESTIMONIAL.

of astonishment and disgust which pervades the House is well
rendered. Even Lord Lauderdale himself looks surprised.

Some traits of his Lordship's domestic history succeed. He
is represented as reading Fox's Martyrs to the Honorable Miss
Butler, and reclaiming her from the errors of Popery — a tem-
ple of Hymen is seen in the distance.

His Lordship is afterward introduced at dinner. The object
of this relief is to intimate his familiar cast of religious opin-
ions. He was known to have as great a horror of a thirteenth
at table as the Cbief-Baron has of a thirteenth juror. The
artist represents his Lordship surrounded by the ominous num-
ber, in a state of pious dismay.

This dinner-scene is followed in natural succession by a ser-
mon at the Asylum in Leeson street. But there is nothing
very remarkable in it, except the looks of profound reverence
with which " the Saints" alternately direct their attention to
the pulpit, which is occupied by Mr. Daly, and the pew in
which the Chancellor is engaged in his devotions. I should
not, however, omit to mention that the face of a Magdalen,
peeping through the bars of the adjoining receptacle of repent-
ant loveliness, at Mr. James Smith Scott, is beautifully finished,
and that the mingled expression of reproach and of tenderness
with which she regards him is admirably rendered.

But I find that I am dwelling with too minute an accuracy
upon details ; and while I am endeavoring to obviate by antici-
pation any doubts which may occur hereafter to the learned,
who shall survey " The Manners Testimonial," I forget that I
run the risk of wearying my readers of the present generation.
I must, therefore, pass by many of the features of this beauti-
ful piece of art, and leave them to puzzle posterity.

There is, however, one scene of splendid conviviality, on
which I can not refrain from sa}7ing a word or two. I allude
to the magnificent relief in the centre, which represents a meet-
ing, at Morisson's Tavern, of the Beefsteak Club. Lord Rath-
down, better known as Lord Monk, presides over the Baccha-
nalian confraternity. This is a wonderful likeness. The
exact look has been preserved, which enabled him to play to
Admiration in the private theatricals at Kilkenny, at which his

IN CHARACTER. 191

Lordship's name appeared among the dramatis persona in the
following felicitous announcement: "Doodle, a foolish lord,
Lord Monk." The noble Earl is represented in that felicitous
moment when he gave as a toast, " The Pope in the pillory,"
with certain additional aspirations, which it is not necessary
to record. The whole assembly of sympathizing compotators
stand with uplifted glasses, replenished to the brim. The Irish
Chancellor is seen at the right hand of the noble and intellect-
ual chairman, in the usual " hip, hip, huzza" attitude. A ring,
given him by the King during his visit in Ireland, sparkles
on his finger, and he tramples the King's parting letter* under
his feet.

* In this missive, written by Lord Sidmouth, as Home Secretary, in rt.e
name of George IV., it was strongly recommended that party squabbles ghoul 1
cease and liberality of thought and action be exercised in future. — M.

THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

THE Roman Catholic Association having resolved to petition
the House of Commons against the Bill winch was in progress
for their suppression [in 1S25], requested Mr. O'Connell and
Mr. Slieil to attend at the bar of the house, and prayed that
those gentlemen should be heard as counsel on behalf of the
body in whose proceedings they had taken so active a partici-
pation.* They appeared to undertake the office with reluc-

* It may be necessary to preface this sketch with a rapid view of the posi-
tion and prospects of the Catholic question at this time. In 1823, the Catho-
lic Association was formed, and was in active operation during 1824. One
result was that it literally put down the spirit of insurrection which had crowded
the prison with inmates, and the gallows and the hulks with victims. It raised
large sums, by means of small but numerous contributions to a fund called
" The Catholic Rent." The Government, angry and jealous that the Associa-
tion had restored that comparative tranquillity in Ireland which its own harsh
rule had been unable to do, resolved that " it must be put down :" — and more
particularly, as the general proceedings of this body were made very closely to
resemble those of the Parliament in London. Accordingly, when the Session
commenced, on February 3, 1825, the Ministerial document called " The
speech from the Throne," suggested the suppression of the Association ; and
Mr. Gbulburn, who was Irish Secretary, obtained leave to bring in a Bill for
that purpose, on that day week. When intelligence of this reached Dublin,
the Catholic Association resolved that a Deputation should be sent to London
to watch over and take care of the interests of the Catholics. Messrs. O'Con-
nell and Shell were specially intrusted with this duty — all the Catholic Peers
were declared members of the Deputation, which farther included as many
members of the Association as chose to swell the cavalcade. Mr. Goulburn's
bill was introduced. On Februaiy 17, 1825, Mr. Brougham presented a peti
tion from the Catholics of Ireland, against a measure which so vitally threatened
their interests, arid moved that they be heard at the bar of the house, by them-
selves or their counsel, in opposition to the Act. This motion was keenly de-
bated (as is described by Mr. Slieil in tho text) and rejected by 222 tq 139

HOW CONSTITUTED. 193

tance. It involved a great personal sacrifice upon tlie part of
Mr. O'Connell ; and, independently of any immediate loss in
his profession, Mr. Shiel could not fail to perceive that it must
prejudice him in some degree as a barrister, to turn aside
from the beaten track of his profession, in the pursuit of a
brilliant but somewhat illusory object. It was, however, next
to impossible to disobey the injunction of a whole people —
they accepted of this honorable trust. At the same time that
counsel were appointed, it was determined that other gentle-
men should attend the debates of the House of Commons in
the character of deputies, and should constitute a sort of
embassy to the English people.

The plan of its constitution was a little fantastic. Any per-
son who deemed it either pleasurable or expedient to attach
himself to this delegation was declared to be a member, and,
in consequence, a number of individuals enrolled themselves
as volunteers in the national service. I united myself to these
political missionaries, not from any hope that I should succeed
in detaching Lord Eldon from the church, or in banishing the
fear of Oxford from the eyes of Mr. Peel,* but from a natural
curiosity to observe the scenes of interest and novelty, into
which, from my representative character, I thought it not
improbable that I should be introduced. I set out in quest of

r ^tes. The Association-suppression bill passed rapidly through the Commons :
reached the Lords, on the first, and received the Royal Assent on the ninth of
March, 1825. Almost as a matter of course, and as if to fulfil O'Connell's boast
odt he " could drive a coach-and-four through any Act of Parliament," a new
Catholic Association immediately sprung up out of the ashes of the old. — M.

* Peel was educated at Harrow, where Byron was his schoolmate. Thence
he went to Oxford University, where he graduated with the highest honors,
rarely conferred upon one person, though his successor Mr. Gladstone also won
tncm. He took what is called " double-first" honors — i. e. in classics and
l^ience. When Abbott, the Speaker, was raised to the peerage in 1817, Pee*
v.-« elected to succeed him as member for his Alma Mater, and retained this
ir*tinction (which, on account of his support of Catholic Emancipation, Can
ning had vainly sighed for, as he confessed, at the close), until 1829, when,
ceasing to be Peel the intolerant, he rendered justice to the Catholics, and
•was defeated, on a contest for the seat for the University, by Sir. R. H. Inglis,
a man of small ability but extensive illiberality. In 1825, as an Anti-Catholic,
Peel was popular at Oxford. — M.

VOL. II.— 9

1

194: THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

political adventure, and determined to commit to a sort of
journal whatever should strike me to be deserving of note.
Upon my return to Ireland, I sent to certain of my friends
some extracts from the diary which I had kept, in conformity
with this resolution. They told me that I had heard and seen
much of what was not destitute of interest, and, at their sug-
gestion, I have wrought the observations, which were loosely
thrown together, into a more regular shape; although they
will, I fear, carry with them an evidence of the haste and
heedlessness with which they were originally set down.

The party of deputies to which I had annexed myself trav-
elled in a barouche belonging to Mr. O'Oonnell, of which he
was kind enough to offer us the use. I fancy that we made
rather a singular appearance, for the eyes of every passenger
were fixed upon us as we passed ; and at Coventry (a spot
sacred to curiosity), the mistress of the inn where we stopped
to change horses, asked me, with a mixture of inquisitiveness
and wonder, and after many apologies for the* liberty she took
in putting the interrogatory, " who the gentlemen were ?" I
contented myself with telling her that we were Irish. ".Par-
liament folk, I suppose ?" to which, with a little mental reser-
vation, I nodded assent.

Mr. O'Oonnell, as usual, attracted the larger portion of the
public gaze. He was seated on the box of the barouche, with
a huge cloak folded about him, which seemed to be a revival
of the famous Irish mantle ; though far be it from me to insin-
uate that it was ever dedicated to some of the purposes to
which it is suggested, by Spenser, that the national garment
was devoted. His tall and ample figure enveloped in the
trappings that fell widely round him, and his open and manly
physiognomy, rendered him a very conspicuous object, from tho
elevated station which he occupied. Wherever we stopped, he
called with an earnest and sonorous tone for a newspaper,
being naturally solicitous to learn whether he should be heard
at the bar of the house; and, in invoking "mine host," for the
parliamentary debates, he employed a cadence and gesture
which carried along with them the unequivocal intimations cf
his country.

BISHOP MILKER. l9o

Nothing deserving of mention occurred until we Lad readied
Wolverhampton. We arrived at that town about eight o'clock
in the morning, with keener appetites than befitted the sea-
son of abstinence [Lent], during which Ave were condemned to
travel. The table was strewed with a tantalizing profusion
of the choicest fare. Every eye was fixed upon an unhallowed
round of beef, which seemed to have been deposited in the
centre of the breakfast-room with a view to " lead us into
temptation," when Mr. O'Connell exclaimed, " Recollect that
you are within sacred precincts. The conqueror of Sturges,
and the terror of the Vetoists, has made Wolverhampton
holy." This admonition saved us on the verge of the preci-
pice— we thought that we beheld the pastoral staff of the
famous Doctor raised up between us and the forbidden feast,
and turned slowly and reluctantly from its unavailing contem-
plation to the lenten mediocrity of dry toast and creamless
tea. We had finished our repast, when it was suggested that
we ought to pay Doctor Milner* a visit before we proceeded
upon our journey. This proposition was adopted with alacrity,
and we went forth in a body in quest of that energetic divine.
We experienced some little difficulty in discovering his abode,
and received most evangelical looks and ambiguous answers
to our inquiries. A damsel of thirty, with a physiognomy
which was at once comely and demure, replied to us at first
with a mixture of affected ignorance and ostentatious disdain ;

* At this time (1825), Dr. John Milner, the eminent Catholic controversial-
ist, was seventy-three years old ; he died in 1826. — Born in 1752, he completed
his education at Douay, in France, was ordained a priest in 1777, and was* sta-
tioned, two years after, at Winchester, where there were several French pris-
oners who were Catholics. In 1782, he published a funeral discourse on the
death of Bishop Challoner, and became a voluminous writer. His learning,
research, and skill, as an Antiquarian, were displayed in his History of the
Antiquities of Winchester, and other works of merit. In his limited History
he offended the prejudices of Dr. Sturges, a prebendary of the Cathedral, who
assailed him in a History of Popery, to which the reply was Milner's well-
known Letters to a Prebendary, in which he boldly and ably defended the
Papal Church. He had a somewhat angry discussion, also, with Charles But-
ler, the Catholic barrister, on ecclesiastical points. In 1803, Dr. Milner was
appointed Vicar-Apostolic in the Midland District of England, and remove")
to Wolverhnmpton — he was now Bishop of Castahala, in partibus. In 1818

196 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

until Sir Thomas Esmonde,* wlio is " a marvellous proper"
man in every sense of the word, whether it be taken in its
physical or moral meaning, addressed the fair votary of Wes-
ley with a sort of clmck-under-the-chin manner (as Leigh Hunt
would call it), and, bringing a more benign and feminine smile
upon a face which had been over-spiritualized by some potent
teacher of the word, induced the mitigated methodist to reply,
"If you had asked me for the Popish priest, instead of the
Catholic bishop, I should have told you that he lived yonder,"
pointing to a large but desolate-looking mansion before us.

We proceeded, according to her directions, to Dr. Milner's
residence. It had an ample but dreary front. The windows
were dingy and covered with cobwebs, and the grass before
the door seemed to illustrate the Irish imprecation. It is sep-
arated from the street by a high railing of rusty metal, at
which we rang several times without receiving any response.
It was suggested to us, that if we tried the kitchen-door, we
should probably get in. We accordingly turned into a lane,
leading to the postern-gate, which was opened by an old and
feeble, but very venerable gentleman, in whom I slowly recog-
nised the active and vigorous prelate whom I had seen some
years ago in the hottest onset of the Veto warfare in Ireland.
His figure had nothing of the Becket port which formerly be-
longed to it. A gentle languor sat upon a face which I had
seen full of fire and expression; his eye was almost hid under
the relaxed and dropping eyelid, and his voice was querulous,
undecided, and weak. He did not recollect Mr. O'Connell,
and appeared at a loss to conjecture our purpose. " We have
come to pay you a visit, my lord," said Mr. O'Connell. The
interpellation was pregnant with our religion; "my lord,"
uttered with a vernacular richness of intonation, gave him an

he published his " End of Religious Controversy," one of the ablest defences
of the points in the Catholic faith, to which Protestants most commonly object.
Bishop Milner was an amiable and pious man, and much beloved in the dis-
trict over which he had ecclesiastical rule. — M.

* Sir Thomas Esmonde was an Irish Catholic baronet, who took a lively
interest and an active part in Catholic politics, before the passing of the Relief
Bill, in 1829.— M.

CHARLES BUTLER. 197

assurance that we were from " the Island of Saints," and on
the right road to heaven.*

He asked us, with easy urbanity, to walk in. We found
that he had heen sitting at his kitchen-fire, with a small cup
of chocolate, and a little bread, which made up his simple and
apostolic breakfast. There was an English neatness and
brightness in everything about us, which was not out of keep-
ing with the cold but polished civility of our reception.

The Doctor was, for a little while, somewhat hallucinated,
and still seemed to wonder at our coming. There was an
awkward pause. At length Mr. O'Connell put him "aufait"
He told him who he was, and that he and his colleagues were
going to London to plead the cause of their holy religion.
The name of the counsellor did not give the Doctor as electric
a shock as I had expected : he merely said that we did him
very great honor, and wished us every success. He requested
us to walk up stairs, and welcomed us with much courtesy, but
little warmth. Time had been busy with him. His faculties
were not much impaired, but his emotions were gone. His
ideas ran clearly enough, but his blood had ceased to flow.
We sat down in his library. The conversation hung fire. The
inflammable materials of which his mind was originally com-
posed, were damped by age. O'Connell primed him two or
three times, and yet he did not for a long while fairly go off.

I resolved to try an expedient by way of experiment upon
episcopal nature, and, being well aware of his feuds with Mr.
Charles Butlert (the great lawyer and profound theologian of

* Li the mediaeval ages, when the rest of Europe was much obscured by ig-
norance, learning was largely cultivated in Ireland, which, from the large num-
ber of eminent and pious ecclesiastics which she then produced, was called
"The Island of Saints."— M.

t Charles Butler, born in 1750, did not die until 1832. He was a Catholi«
who had closely studied the law, and, as a conveyancer, was held in high repute
He was an accomplished scholar. His " Notes to Coke upon Littleton" are
prized by black-letter lawyers, and his " Reminiscences" are full of political,
literary, and personal information. The rest of his works, which were numer-
ous, were chiefly ecclesiastical, with, now and -then, a political pamphlet. His
Lives of the Saints, Historical Account of the Lavrs against the Roman Oath*
olics, and his Book of the Catholic Church, excited great interest when the?
appeared, and still rank as standard works. — M.

[98 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

Lincoln's Inn), asked him, with much innocence of manner,
though I confess with some malice of intent, " whether he had
lately heard from his old friend Charles Butler?" The name
was talismanic — the resurrection of the Doctor's passions was
instantaneous and complete. His face became bright, his form
quickened and alert, and his eye was lighted up with true scho-
lastic ecstasy. He seemed ready to enter once more into the
rugged field of controversy, in which he had won so many lau-.
rels, and to be prepared to "fight his battles o'er again." To
do him justice, he said nothing of his ancient antagonist in po-
lemics which a bishop and a divine ought not to say : he, on
the contrary, mentioned that a reconciliation had taken place.
I could, however, perceive that the junction of their minds was
j not perfectly smooth, and saw the marks of the cement which
had " soldered up the rift." The odium tlitologicum has been
neutralized by an infusion of Christianity, but some traces of
its original acidity could not fail to remain. He spoke of Mr.
Butler as a man of great learning and talents; and I should
mention parenthetically that I afterward heard the latter ex-
press himself of Doctor .Milner as a person of vast erudition,
and who reflected honor, by the purity of his life, and the ex-
tent of his endowments, upon the body to which he belonged.
The impulse given to his mind by the mention of his achieve-
ments in controversy, extended itself to other topics. Cobbett
had done, said Doctor Milner, service to Ireland, and to its
religion, by addressing himself to the common sense of the
English people, and trying to purge them of their misconcep-
tions respecting the belief of a great majority of the Christian
world.*

The Doctor spoke with a good deal of energy of the contests

* Cobbett's " History of the Protestant Reformation," had an immense sale
in Great Britain and Ireland, was repeatedly and largely reprinted in Amer-
ica, and was translated into several European languages. It is full of interest
—partly arising from the number and variety of its episodes on the popular top-
ics of the day, and partly from the manner in which the writer showed up and
condemned the spoliation of the Anglican Church, by Henry VIII., when he
thought that " Gospel truth first beamed from Bullen's eyes." It was a singu-
lar book, at all events, for a Protestant (which Cobbett professed to be) to have
written. — M.

NATIONAL CONTRASTS. 190

wliich Lad been carried on between the clergy and the itiner-
ant missionaries of the Bible Society in Ireland, and congratu-
lated Mr. O'Connell and Mr. Slieil on their exertions in Cork,
from which the systematic counteraction of the new Apostles had
originated.* Mr. O'Connell expressed his obligations upon
this occasion to Doctor Milner's celebrated, and, let me add,
admirable work, which has been so felicitously entitled "'The
End of Religious Controversy." — " Oh !" said the Doctor, "I
am growing old, or I should write a supplement to that book."
After some further desultory conversation, we took our leave.
Doctor Milner, who had been aroused into his former energy,
thanked us with simple and unaffected cordiality for our visit.
He conducted us to the gate before his mansion (in which I
should observe that neither luxury nor want appear), with his
white head uncovered, and, with the venerable grace of age
and piety, bade us farewell.

We proceeded upon our journey. No incident occurred de-
serving of mention, unless a change in our feelings deserves
the name. The moment we entered England, I perceived that
the sense of our own national importance had sustained some
diminution, and that, however slowly and reluctantly we ac-
knowledged it to ourselves, the contemplation of the opulence
which surrounded us, and in which we saw the results and evi-
dences of British power and greatness, impressed upon every
one of us the consciousness of our provincial inferiority, and
the conviction that it is only from an intimate alliance with
Great Britain, or rather a complete amalgamation with her im-
mense dominion, that any permanent prosperity can be reason-
ably expected to be derived. In the sudden transition from
the scenes of misery and sorrow to which we are habituated

* In 1824, when the Protestant Reformation Society held a public meeting
at Cork, a great deal of good and earnest abuse was poured out, by the clerical
speakers, against the Catholics and the Pope. O'Connell, Sheil, and other
Catholics, interrupted the proceedings, demanding to be heard, on the principle
of fair play- in defence of their religion. This having been conceded, they
delivered some very admirable polemical harangues, which the Reformation
party did not even attempt to answer. It was considered, therefore, that the
Catholic party, \vL*o remained masters of the field, had triumphed in the con
test. — M.

200 TtfE CATHOLIC

in Ireland to the splendid spectacle of English wealth and civ-
ilization, the humiliating contrast between the two islands
presses itself upon every ordinary observer. It is at all times
remarkable. Compared to her proud and pampered sister,
clothed as she is in purple and in gold, Ireland, with all her
natural endowments, at best appears but a squalid and emaci-
ated beauty. I have never failed to be struck and pained by
this unfortunate disparity ; but upon the present occasion the
objects of our mission, and the peculiarly national capacity in
which we were placed in relation to England, naturally drew
our meditation to the surpassing glory of the people of whom we
had come to solicit redress.

An occasional visit to England has a very salutary effect.
It operates as a complete sedative to the ardor of the political
passions. It should be prescribed as a part of the antiphlogistic
regimen. The persons who take an active part in the impas-
sioned deliberations of the Irish people are apt to be carried
away by the strength of the popular feelings which they con-
tribute to create. Having heated the public mind into an ar-
dent mass of emotion, they are themselves under the influence
of its intensity. This result is natural and just : but among
the consequences (most 'of which are beneficial) which have
arisen from the habitual excitation, and to which the Catho-
lics have reasonably attributed much of their inchoate success,
they have forgotten the effect upon themselves, and have omit-
ted to observe in their own minds a disposition to exaggerate
the magnitude of the means by which their ends are to be ac-
complished. In declaiming upon the immense population of
Ireland, they insensibly put out of account the power of that
nation from whom relief is demanded, and who are grown old
in the habit of domination, which of all habits, it is most diffi-
cult to resign.

A man like Mr. O'Connell who, by the force of his natural
eloquence produces a great emotion in the midst of an enthusi-
astic assembly of ardent and high-blooded men — who is hailed
by the community, of which he is the leading member, as their
chief and champion — who is greeted with popular benedictions
as he passes — whose name resounds in every alley, and " stands

EVIDENCES OF ENGLISH WEALTH. 201

rubric" on every wall — can with difficulty resist tlie intoxica-
ting influence of so many exciting causes, and becomes a sort
of political opium-eater, who must be torn from these seductive
indulgences, in order to reduce him into perfect soundness and
soberness of thought. His deputation to England produced an
almost immediate effect upon him. As we advanced, the din
of popular assemblies became more faint : the voice of the
multitude was scarcely heard in the distance, and at last died
away. He seemed half English at Shrewsbury, and was
nearly Saxonized when we entered the murky magnificence
of Warwickshire. As we surveyed the volcanic region of
manufactures and saw a thousand Etnas vomiting their eternal
fires, the recollections of Erin passed away from his mind, and
the smoky glories of Skifton* and Wolverhampton took pos-
session of his soul. The feeling which attended our progress
through England was not a little increased by our approach
to its huge metropolis. The waste of wealth around us, the
procession of ponderous vehicles that choked the public roads,
the rapid and continuous sweep of carriages, the succession of
luxurious and brilliant towns, the crowd of splendid villas,
which Cowper has assimilated to the beads upon the neck of
an Asiatic Queen, and the vast and dusky mass of bituminous

* Shifnal is the name of the place. It is situated between the busy little town
of Wellington, in Shropshire, and the important borough of Wolverhampton, in
Staffordshire. Shifnal is only important as being the centre of a great iron
and coal district. Travellers to and from Ireland, via Holyhead, in the old
time of mail-coaches, used to be startled, on a dark night, in rapidly passing
over miles upon miles of a road, through a country, where, all around far as the
eye could take in at one view, immense furnaces flung a lurid light through the
gloom — which seemed all the gloomier by contrast — and hundreds of men
flitted to and fi*o, feeding these furnaces with coal or throwing in heaps of
the limestone used to flux the liquid iron as it was separated from the ore by
heat. The sulphurous smell, from the immense quantity of coal thus consumed,
is so unpleasant and unwholesome, that, rather than inhale it,

"The boldest held their breath,
For a time."

The railway from Wolverhampton to Shrewsbury passes through the Shifnal dis-
trict— but travelling at forty miles an hour allows not much more than a few
minutes' glance at the fiery furnaces I speak of. This is the scene of one of
the most touching a Iventures of Dickens' Little Nelly. — M.
q*

202 THE CATHOLIC

vapor which crowns the great city witli an everlasting cloud,
intimated our approach to the modern Babylon.

Upon any ordinary occasion I should not, I believe, have
experienced any strong sensation on entering London. What
is commonly called " coming up to town," is not a very sublime
or moving incident. I honestly confess that I have upon a
fine summer morning stood on Westminster Bridge, upon my
return from the brilliant inanities of Vauxhall, and looked
upon London with a very drowsy sympathy in the meditative
enthusiasm which breathes through Wordsworth's admirable
sonnet. But upon the occasion which I am describing, it
needed little of the spirit of political romance to receive a
deep and stirring impulse, as we advanced to the great me-
tropolis of the British empire, and heard the rolling of the
great tide — the murmurs, if I may so say, of the vast sea of
wealth before us. The power of England was at this moment
presented to us in a more distinct and definite shape, and we
were more immediately led, as we entered London, to bring
the two countries into comparison. This, we exclaimed, is Lon-
don, and the recollection of our own Eblana* was manifest in
the sigh with which the truism was spoken : yet the reflection
upon our inferiority was not unaccompanied by the consolatory
anticipation that the time was not distant, when we should be
permitted to participate in all the advantages of a real and
consummated junction of the two countries, when the impedi-
ments to our national prosperity should be removed, and Ire-
land should receive the ample overflowings of that deep cur-
rent of opulence which we saw almost bursting through its
golden channels in the streets of the immense metropolis.

Immediately after our arrival, we were informed by the
agent of the Roman Catholic Association in London, Mr.
^neas M'Donnelf (and who, in the discharge of the duties

Eblana is the Latin name of Dublin, and that by which that city was des-
ignated in early law documents. — M.

t jEneas M'Donnel, who had been editor of the Cork Mercantile Chronicle,
was a good speaker and clever writer, who soon transferred himself to Dublin.
Taking an active part in Catholic politics, he was appointed salaried agent for
the Irish Catholics, and sent to London. He performed his duty, with ability
and zeal, until 1829, when Emancipation was granted. From that time, his

SIB FKANCIS BUBDETT. 203

confided to him, lias evinced great talents, judgment, and
discretion), that Sir Francis Burdett* was desirous to see us as
soon as possible. We accordingly proceeded to his house in St.
James's Place, where we found the Member for Westminster
living in all the blaze of aristocracy. I had often heard Sir
Francis Burdett in popular assemblies, and had been greatly
struck with his simple, easy, and unsophisticated eloquence : — 1
was extremely anxious to gain a nearer access to a person of
so much celebrity, and to have an opportunity of observing the
character and intellectual habits of a man who had given so

course was altered by his applying liimself, in the London Standard and other
ultra-Tory Journals, to constant abuse of Mr. O'Connell, on the plea that Irish
agitation ought to have ceased when Emancipation was obtained. Mr. M'Don-
nell is still living, and resides in London. — Lord Norbury, who never could re-
sist a joke, on seeing M'Donncll coming out of the house of Dr. Troy, the Cath-
olic Archbishop of Dublin, exclaimed, " There is the pious ^Enetis returning,
from the sack of Troy !" — It is well that a pun need not involve a fact, as Dr.
Troy, who was the reverse of Falstaff, eschewed sack and other wines — his
limited resources being distributed among the needy. When he died, the sum of
a guinea was all that was found in the purse of this primitive Archbishop. — M.

* Sir Francis Burdett, whoso rank and great fortune entitled him to a place
among the British Aristocracy, was a most violent democrat, from his starting
into public, until the last seven years of his life. He derived his political bias
from Home Tooke, author of The Diversions of Purley. Born in 1770, he en-
tered Parliament in 1796, and immediately opposed Pitt's Government. With
little intermission, he had a seat in the House of Commons until his death in 1844.
Constantly opposing every Tory Ministry, in 1810, Burdett having published a
letter to his constituents, in which (in no very measured terms) he said, that
the House of Commons had illegally exercised their power in committing Gales
Jones to prison, the speaker issued his warrant to apprehend him and convey him
to the Tower, for " gross breach of privilege." Burdett barricaded his house
in London, prepared to resist, and would have been backed by the populace,
who loved him."' He was taken to the Tower, however, and confined there
until the prorogation of Parliament. He constantly supported liberal measures,
which made him a sort of Pariah among the noble and the wealthy, and sub-
j< cled him to imprisonment and fine. He advocated Parliamentary Reform,
and Catholic Emancipation — but, in 1837, "England's piide and Westmin
ster'i Glory," as he was fondly styled, picking a quarrel with O'Connell, went
over to the Tory party, and continued with them ever after. — He married
one of the daughters of Thomas Coutts, the rich London banker, and their
daughter, Angela Burdett, was left all the Coutts' fortune, by the banker's sec-
ond wife (Harriet Mellon, an actress), whose second husband was the Dukp
of St. Albuns. — M.

204 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

much of its movement to the public mind. He was sitting in
his study when we were introduced by Mr. M'Donnel. He
received us without any of that Jiauteur which I have heard
attributed to him, and for which his constitutional quiescence
of manner is sometimes mistaken. We, who have the hot
Celtic blood in our veins, and deal in hyperbole upon occasions
which are not calculated to -call up much emotion, are naturally
surprised at what we conceive to be a want of ardor upon
themes and incidents in which our own feelings are deeply
and fervently engaged.

During my short residence in London, I constantly felt
among the persons of high political influence to whom we
approached, a calmness, which I should have taken for the
stateliness of authority in individuals, but that I found it was
much more national than personal, and was, in a great degree,
a universal property of the political world. There was a
great deal of simple dignity, which was entirely free from af-
fectation in the address of Sir Francis Burdett. Having re-
quested us to sit, which we did in a large circle (his first
remark indeed was, that we were more numerous than he had
expected), he came with an instantaneous directness to the
point, and after a few words of course upon the honor conferred
upon him by being intrusted with the Catholic question, en-
treated us with some strenuousness to substitute Mr. Plunket
in his place ; he protested his readiness to take any part in the
debate which should be assigned him ; but stated, that there
was no man so capable, and certainly none more anxious than
the Attorney-General for the promotion of our cause. But for
the plain and honest manner in which this exhortation was
given, I should have suspected that he was merely performing
a part — but I have no doubt of the sincerity with which the
recommendation was given.

He dwelt at length upon the great qualifications of Mr.
Plunket as a parliamentary speaker, and pressed us to waive
all sort of form with respect to himself, and put him at once
aside for an abler advocate. We told him that it was out of
our power to rescind the decision of an aggregate meeting.
This he seemed to feel, and said that he should endeavor to

SIR FRANCIS BURDETT. 205

discharge the trust as efficiently as he was able. His heart,
lie said, was in the question — he knew that there could not
be peace in Ireland until it was adjusted ; and for the country
he professed great attachment. He loved the people of Ire-
land, and it was truly melancholy to see so noble a race de-
prived of the power of turning their great natural endowments
to any useful account. These observations, which an Irishman
would have delivered with great emphasis, were made by Sir
Francis Burdett almost without a change of tone or look. He
made no effort at strong expression. Everything was said
with great gentleness, perspicuity, and candor. I thought,
however, that he strangely hesitated for common words. His
language was as plain as his dress,* which was extremely sim-
ple, and indicated the favorite pursuit of a man who is " mad
at a foxchase, wise at a debate."

I watched his face while he spoke. His eyes are small and
bright, but have no flash or splendor. They are illuminated
by a serene and tranquil spirit : his forehead is high and finely
arched, but narrow and contracted, and, although his face is
lengthy, its features are minute and delicately chiselled off.
His mouth is extremely small, and carries much suavity about
it. I should have guessed him at once to be a man of rank,
but should not have suspected his spirit to be a transmigration
of Caius Gracchus. I should never have guessed that he was
the man whose breath had raised so many waves upon the
public mind, and aroused a storm which made the vessel creak.
I saw no shadow of the " tower of Julius" in his pure and
ruddy color, and should never have conjectured that he had
inhaled the evaporations of its stagnant moat.t At the same
time I should observe that, if there were no evidences of a
daring or adventurous spirit about this champion of the peo-
ple, there are in his demeanor and bearing many indications
of calm resolve and imperturbable determination.

* Summer or winter, Burdett appeared in the House of Commons in one
invariable costume — broad-brimmed hat, blue, brass-buttoned coat, drab
breeches, and top-boots; the regular dress, in fact, of a country-gentleman fond
of field-sports. — M.

t At present, the moat which surrounds the Tower of London, is a moat
minus water. — M.

206 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION".

I was a good deal more occupied in watching tliis celebrated
person than in observing my companions. Yet I at once per-
ceived that we were too numerous and gregarious a body for a
council of state, and was glad to find Mr. O'Connell take a de-
cided, and what was considered by some to be, a dictatorial
tone among us. I saw that unless some one individual assumed
the authority of speaking and acting for the rest, we should, in
all likelihood, be involved in those petty squabbles and miser-
able contentions of which Bonaparte speaks as characteristic
of the Irish deputies who were sent to Paris to negotiate a rev-
olution.* I was much pleased to find that Mr. O'Connell gave,
even in this early communication, strong proof of that wise,
temperate and conciliatory spirit, by which his conduct in
London was distinguished, and by the manifestation of which
he conferred incalculable service on his country.

After this interview with Sir Francis Burdett, the chief ob-
ject of which, upon his part, was to sound our disposition to
confide the conduct of our cause to the Irish Attorney-General
[PlunketJ, Ave proceeded to the House of Commons, for the
purpose of attending the debate upon the petition to be heard
by counsel at the bar. We had already been informed by Sir
Francis Burdett that it was very unlikely that the House would
accede to the petition, and that Ministers had collected their
forces to oppose it.f For the result we were therefore pre-

* Napoleon's opinion, as reported by O'Meara, is unequivocal : " If the Irish
had sent over honest men to me, I would certainly have made an attempt upon
Ireland. But I had no confidence in either the integrity or the talents of the
Irish leaders that were in France. They could offer no plan, were divided in
opinion, and continually quarrelling with each other." — M.

t Lord Liverpool was at the head of that Ministry; Eldon was Chancellor:
Peel, Home Secretary, and Mr. Canning the only member of the Cabinet who
supported Catholic Emancipation. The petition from the Catholics of Ireland
was intrusted, not to Plunket, who had constantly and ably advocated theii
claims (and was now a little out of favor because, as Irish Attorney-General,
he had supported the measure for putting down the Association), but to Burdett,
who presented it, March 1, 1825, and then moved for a committee of Catholic
inquiry. He was supported, among others, by Plunket, Canning-, and Brougham,
and strongly opposed by Peel : — but the motion was carried by 247 to 234 and
the Bill eventually passed the Commons. But between the first and second
teadi igs, the Duke of York, next heir to the ThvPUe, mad.e a gpeech, on April

THE DUKE OF YORK. 207

pared ; but we were extremely anxious to hear a discussion,
in which Mr. Brougham was expected to display his great pow-
ers, and in which the general demerits of the association would
in all probability be brought by Ministers under review. The
Speaker* had the goodness to direct that the Catholic deputies
should be allowed to sit under the gallery during the discus-
sions which appertained immediately to the object of their
mission; and we were, in consequence, accommodated with
places upon this vantage-ground, from which I had an oppor-
tunity of observing the orators of the night. We found a con-
siderable array in the House, and attracted universal obser-
vation.

In the front of our body was Mr. O'Connell, upon whom
every eye was fixed. He affected a perfect carelessness of
manner; *but it was easy to perceive that he was full of rest-
lessness and inquietude under an icy surface. I saw the cur-
rent eddying beneath. Next him was Mr. O'Gorman, who
carried a most official look as secretary to the Catholics of all
Ireland, and seemed to realize the beau-ideal of Irish self-pos-
session. (I should observe, by-the-way, that Mr. O'Gorman

25, 1825, in which, after declaring his hostility to the Catholic claims, he pub-
licly vowed never to abate it, and affirmed this declaration, as if on oath, by
the concluding words — " So help me God." This manifesto led to the loss of
the measure in the Lords. In Moore's emphatic poem, " The Irish Slave,"
written, in 1827, on the death of the Duke of York, he thus alluded to thii
vow: —

" He had pledged a hate unto me and mine,

He had left to the future nor hope nor choice,
But sealed that hate with a Name Divine,

And now he was dead, and — I couldn't rejoice."

The Duke's speech was delivered, it has always been believed, at the instiga-
tion of Lord Eldon. — M.

* The Speaker was Charles Manners Sutton, who held that office, by repeat-
ed re-elections, from 1817 until 1835, when, he was opposed by Mr. Jameg •
Abercrombie, a Whig lawyer (and steward, or sort of upper-servant to the
Duke of Devonshire), and rejected by a majority of ten. The ground for this
opposiiion and rejection was a surmise that Manners Sutton had taken an active
part in forming the Peel Ministry, in December, 1834. He was finally created
Viscount Canterbury. As Speaker, his urbanity of manners and impartiality of
conduct were remembered, when too late, in contrast with his successor Aber-
crombie, who was bearish and partial. — M.

208 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

was of great use in London in controlling that spirit of dispu
tation among the deputies to which Irishmen are habitually
prone, and which it required the perfect good-humor and ex-
cellent disposition of the learned functionary to assuage.)

The House began to fill about eight o'clock. The aspect
of the members was not in general very imposing. Few were
in full dress, and there was little, in the general demeanor of
the representatives of the people, which was calculated to raise
them in my reverence. This absence, or rather studious neg-
lect, of ceremony, is perhaps befitting an assembly of the " citi-
zens and burgesses in Parliament assembled." I remarked
that some^fcf the members were distinguished for their spirit
of locomotion. The description of " the Falmouth — the heavy
Falmouth coach," given by a jocular Secretary of State,* had
prepared me to expect in a noble Lord a more sedentary habit
of body ; but he displayed a perfect incapacity to stay still, and
was perpetually traversing the House, as if he wished, by the
levity of his trip and the jauntiness of his movements, to fur-
nish a practical reputation of ministerial merriment.

After some matters of form had been disposed of, Mr.
Brougham rose to move, on behalf of the Association, that
counsel should be heard at the bar of the House.f I had seen

* One of Canning's elaborated and therefore rather dull jokes at Lord
Nugent, who was stout in person, having gone over to assist the Spanish lib-
erals, in 1822. Lord N., it seems, put himself into the Falmouth mail. — M.

t To do anything like justice to the cyclopaediac knowledge, Stirling elo-
quence, scientific discoveries, literary productions, philosophic researches, and
public services of Henry Brougham, the great law-reformer, would require the
compass of a volume rather than the narrow limit of a note. In another and
future publication, perhaps, I may be tempted to trace his course, and sketch
his character. — Born in Edinburgh (No, 19 St. Andrew's Square), on Septenv
hex1 19, 1779, he was called to the Scottish bar at an early age, and practised
the~e until 1807, his friends and companions being Jeffrey, Cockburn, and oth
ers wuo have attained eminence. Appearing before the House of Lords, in
the Roxburgh peerage case, he so much distinguished himself, that he was
strongly urged to leave the Scotch for the English bar, which he did. Hence-
forth, his course was one of increasing distinction. In 1810. he entered Par-
liament, on the liberal side, and distinguished himself by speaking against the
Orders in Council, which caused the last war between England and America.
In 1820, as Attorney -Gen eral to ^ueen Caroline, he successfully defended he*

HENRY BROUGHAM. 209

Mr. Brougham several years before, and immediately observed a
great improvement in liis accomplishments as a public speaker.
Nature has not, perhaps, been very favorable to this very emi-
nent man in his merely physical configuration. His person is
tall, but not compact or well put together. There is a loose-
ness of limb about him, which takes away from that stability
of attitude which indicates the fixedness of the mind. His,
chest is narrow — he wants that bulk which gives Plunket an u
Atlantean massiveness of form, mentioned by Milton as the \
property of a great statesman. The countenance of Mr.
Brougham wants symmetry and refinement. His features are
strong, but rather wide. He has a Caledonian prominence of
bone. His complexion indicates his intellectual habits, and is
" sicklied o'er by the pale cast of thought." It seems smoked
by the midnight lamp. His eyes are deeply sunk, but full at
once of intensity and meditation. His voice is good — it is
clear, articulate, and has sufficient melody and depth. He has
the power of raising it to a very high key, without harshness
or discord, and when he becomes impassioned he is neither
hoarse nor shrill.

Such is the outward man ; and if he has defects, they are
not so numerous or so glaring as those over which the greatest
orator of antiquity obtained a victory. In his ideal picture of
a public speaker, Homer represents the most accomplished
artificer of words as a person with few if any personal attrac-
tions. The characteristics of Brougham's oratory are vigor"
and passion. He alternates with great felicity. He possesses
in a high degree the art of easy transition from impetuosity to

in her trial before the House of Lords. In 1827, he liberally supported the
Government of Canning, with whom he had a personal quarrel some years
before. In 1830, he was made Lord-Chancelloi1, on Lord Grey coming into
power, and created Baron Brougham and Vatix. He had strongly supported
Catholic Emancipation, and he now battled, with immense force, against the
Aristocracy, and won Parliamentary Reform for the People. He left office in
November, 1834, when (at the instance of Queen Adelaide ?) the Melbourne
Ministry were suddenly dismissed by William IV. — He has not since taken
office, but has carried out Law Reform, has been active in varied literary and
political composition, has made important researches in science, and has devo-
ted himself, in the Lords, to the hearing of appeals from the courts of law. He
is now £1854"] in his seventy-fifth year, hale in health and strong in mind. — M

THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

demonstration. His blood does not become so over-heated as
to render it a matter of difficulty for him to return to the- tone
and language of familiar discourse — the prevalent tone and
language of the House of Commons. A man who can not rise
beyond it will never make a great figure ; but whoever can
not habitually employ it will be accounted a declaimer, and
will fall out of parliamentary favor. Mr. Brougham's gesture
is at once senatorial and forensic. He uses his arms- like an
orator, and his hands like a lawyer. He employs great sweep
of action, and describes segments of circles in his impassioned
movements : here he forgets his forensic habitudes : but when
he is either sneering or sophisticating, he closes his hands
together with a somewhat pragmatical air, or uniting the
points of his forefingers, and, lifting them to a level with his
chair, embodies in his attitude the minute spirit of nisi prius.
If he did this and nothing else, he would hold no higher place
than the eternal Mr. Wetherell in the House.* But what,
taken apart, may appear an imperfection, brings out the nobler
attributes of his mind, and, by the contrast which it presents,
raises his better faculties into relief.

Of the variety, nay, vastness of his acquirements, it is unne-
cessary to say anything: he is a kind of ambulatory encyclo-
pedia, and brings his learning to bear upon every topic on
which he speaks. His diction is highly enriched, or, if I may
so say, embossed with figures executed after the pure clas-

* Sir Charles Wetherell was made Solicitor-General in 1821. Bom in 1770
he was called to the bar in 1794, and practised for some time at the common
law bar, but settled down, finally, into immense practice in chancery. He en-
tered Parliament in 1818, and his careless dress, eccentric manner, and extra-
ordinary way of speaking- made him more noted than eminent. In 1827, when
Copley (now Lord Lyndhurst) was made Master of the Rolls, he was succeeded
as Attorney-General by Wetherell, who resigned, in 1829, on the Catholic Re
lief Bill being brought in without consulting him, the, first law officer of the
Crown. He opposed Catholic Emancipation and Parliamentary Reform, and
quitted Parliament when the latter measure was passed. In the autumn of
1831, when he was unpopular, as an anti-Reformer, he appeared at Bristol to
hold the Sessions, as Recorder of that city. He was mobbed, narrowly escaping
with his life, and Bristol was the scene of dreadful riots, burning, and other
devastations for the following day and night. He was one of the best equity
lawyers of his time. He died immensely rich, in 1846, aged seventy-six. — JVf

PEEL AttD iJAMlLTON ROWAN. 21 11

sical model ; yet there are not, perhaps, any isolated passages
which are calculated to keep a permanent residence in the
recollection of his hearers. He does not venture, like Plunket,
into the loftiest regions of eloquence ; he does not wing his
flight among those towering elevations which are, perhaps, as
barren as they are high ; but he holds on with steady conti-
nuity in a very exalted course, and never goes out of sight.
His bursts of honest vehemence, and indignant moral reproba-
tion, are very fine. He furnished, upon the night on which I
heard him, an admirable exemplification of this commanding
power. I allude to his reply to Mr. Peel upon the charges
made against Hamilton Rowan.*

The Secretary for the Home Department is said to have
delivered, upon this occasion, one of the best speeches which
he ever pronounced in parliament. I own that he greatly sur-
passed my expectations. I was prepared, from the perusal of
his speeches, and the character which I had heard of him, for
a display of frigid ingenuity, delivered with a dapper neatness
and an ironical conceit. I heard the late Mr. Ourran say that
" Peel was a mere official Jack-an-apes," and had built my
conceptions of him upon a phrase which, valueless as it may
appear, remained in my memory. But I was disabused of this
erroneous impression by his philippic against the Association.

* Peel was hurried, by the ardor of debate, when denouncing the Catholic
Association, to accuse that body of having presented an address to Archi
bald Hamilton Rowan, " an attainted traitor." Mr. Rowan had been Secretary
to the United Irishmen. In 1794, he was tried for libel, defended by Curra.n
(in one of the most eloquent speeches ever made, even by him), convicted, fined,
and imprisoned. While suffering this sentence, he ascertained that his com-
plicity in the intended " i-ebellion" had been disclosed to the Executive, and
then, as is subsequently told, he escaped to France, and thence to America,
where he maintained himself by the labor of his head and hands. Lord Chan-
cellor Clare secured his pardon, but did not live to see Rowan's return. In
1805, he came back to Ireland, was formally arraigned at the bar of justice, be-
fore Lord Clonmcl, and pleaded the King's pardon, briefly but eloquently ex-
pressing his gratitude for the boon. He retired into the bosom of domestic
.life, living on his lai'ge fortune. When Peel went out of his way to assail him,
Mr. Rowan, though then seventy-five years old, immediately went from Ireland
to London, to call him to account, but Peel frankly withdrew the expressions,
and they parted, with a mutual sense of " satisfaction," other than that sought
by the veteran. — M.

TfiE CATHOLIC DEPTTTATlOtt.

I do not mean to say tha^ Mr. Peel lias not a good deal of
elaborate self-sufficiency. He is perpetually indulging in en-
comiums upon his own manliness and candor — and certainly
there is much frankness in his voice and bearing — but any
man who observes the expedients with which he endeavors to
effect his escape from the grasp of some powerful opponent,
will be convinced that there is a good deal of lubricity about
him. He constantly advances arguments of the fallacy of
which he can not fail to be conscious, and which would be a
burlesque upon reasoning if they Avere not uttered from the
Treasury Bench.

As a speaker, he should not be placed near Brougham, or
Canning, or Plunket, although he rises far beyond that medi-
ocrity to which in Ireland we are in the habit of condemning
him. His language is not powerful, but it is perfectly clear,
and uniformly correct. I observed, indeed, that his sentences
were much more compact and unbroken, and their several
parts better linked together, than those of Mr. Brougham ; but
the one evolves his thoughts in a lengthened and winding
chain, while the other (having a due fear of the parenthetical
before his eyes) presents an obvious idea in a brief and simple
form, and never ventures to frame any massive or extended
series of phrase. His gesture is, generally speaking, exceed-
ingly appropriate, and if I found any fault with it, I should
censure it for its 'minute adherence to grace. His hands are
remarkably white and well formed, and are exhibited with an
ostentatious care. He stands erect, and, to use a technical
expression employed by French dancers, " a-plomb" Tin**
firmness of attitude gives him that appearance of determina
tion, which is wanting perhaps in Mr. Brougham. .

I do not like his physiognomy as an orator. He has a
handsome face, but it is suffused with a smile of sleek self-
complacency, which it is impossible to witness without dis
taste. He has also a trick of closing his eyes, which may
arise from their weakness, but which has something mental in
its expression ; and, however innocent he may be of all offen
sive purpose, is indicative of superciliousness and contempt
J doubt not he found it of use in Ireland among the menial*

£EEL AND O^OONNELL. 213

of authority, and acquired this habit at the Castle. In one,
the best passage in his speech, and I believe the best he ever
uttered, he divested himself of those defects.

Upon the moral propriety of his attack upon Hamilton^
Rowan it is unnecessary to say anything. The misfortunes
of that excellent gentleman ought not to have been pressed
into the service. After every political convulsion, a Lethe
should be permitted to flow upon the public mind, and a sin
of thirty years' standing ought not only to be pardoned, but
forgotten. Mr. Peel, however, could not resist the temptation
of dragging upon the stage a man whose white hair should
hide every imperfection upon his head. Laying aside all
consideration of the generosity evinced by Mr. Peel in the
selection of the topic, it must be acknowledged that he pro-
nounced his invective with great and very successful force.
He became heated with victory, and, cheered as he was
repeatedly by his multitudinous partisans, turned suddenly
toward the part of the house where the deputies were seated,
and looking triumphantly at Mr. O'Oonnell, with whom he for-
got for a moment that he had been once involved in a personal
quarrel,* shook his hand with scornful exultation, and asked

* In 1815, the late Sir Robert Peel, then Secretary for Ireland, consid-
ered himself insulted by some expressions in a speech made by Mr. O'Connell,
and challenged him. It was agreed that the duel should take place in France,
whither Peel went, but, as O'Connell was in London, en route to the assigned
battle-ground, the object of his journey transpired, the police interfered, he
was bound over to keep the peace, and the duel was thus prevented. (The
late Dr. England, Catholic Bishop of Charleston, S. C., who then resided at
Coi'k, pointed out the conjunct sin and folly of duelling, when he next met
O'Connell, and induced him to give a solemn promise that, under no circum-
stances would he again appeal to arms.) It was whispered, at the time, that
O'Connell might have passed over to France, undetected, if he had not delayed
in London, to receive new* of the health of his wife, whom he had left very ill
in Dublin. Another public character had declined a challenge at the same
time, on the plea of his daughter's illness, and the two-fold occurrence elicited
the following impromptu from Charles Kendal Bushe : —

"Two heroes of Erin, abhorrent of slaughter,

Improved on the Hebrew command —
One honored his wife and the other his daughter,

That ' their days might be long in the land.' "
In Willis's " Pencillings by the Way" (one of the most delightful books of trav

THE CATHOLIC

whether the House required any better evidence than the
address of the Association to "an attainted traitor." The
phrase was well uttered, and the effect as a piece of oratory
was great and powerful. But for the want of moral dignity, I
should say that it was very finely executed.*

We hung down our heads for a moment and quailed, under
the consciousness of defeat. But it was only temporary. Mr.
Brougham was supplied with various facts of great importance
on the instant, and inflicted upon Mr. Peel a terrible retribu-
tion. His reply to the minister was, I understand, as effective
as his celebrated retort upon the Queen's letters. He showed
that the Government had extended to Mr. Rowan conspicuous
marks of favor, and reproached Mr. Peel with his want of
nobleness in opening a wound which had been so long closed,
and in turning the disasters of an honorable man into a rhetor-
ical resource. He got hold of the good feeling of the House.
Their virtuous emotions, and those high instincts which even
the spirit of party can not entirely suppress, were at once mar-
shalled upon his side. Conscious of his advantage, he rushed
upon his antagonist and hurled him to the ground. He dis-
played upon this occasion the noblest qualities of his elo-
quence— fierce sarcasm, indignant remonstrance, exalted sen-
timent, and glowing elocution. He brought his erudition to

elled observation and personal gossip) a different version of this epigram is
given, as related by Moore, not so neatly turned as the above. The O'Connell
family were very angry with Moore for having repeated the lines ; and Mrs.
Fitxsimon, one of O'Connell's daughters, recorded her indignation in some
powerful stanzas, written in the album of Samuel Lover, the Irish lyrist. — Bushe,
the real delinquent, had a knack in this way. Once upon a time, the members
of the Leinster bar were prevented, by a violent storm, from crossing a ferry at
Ballinlaw. Mr. Caesar Colclough, heedless of danger, flung his saddle-bags into
the boat, and desired the man to row him over. Bushe thus caught him in an
impromptu —

" While meaner souls the tempest keeps in awe,
Intrepid Caesar, crossing Ballinlaw,
Shouts to the boatman, shivering in his rags
1 You carry Csesar and his — saddle-bags!' " — M.

* I had intended to introduce a sketch of Mr. Rowan's character into this ar
tide, but found that I could not compress it within its appropriate limits. The
reader will find it appended in a separate article.

MEMORIALS OF PEEL.

liis aid, and illustrated his defence by a quotation from Cicero,
in which the Roman extenuates the faults of those who were
engaged on Pompey's side. The passage was exceedingly
apposite, but was delivered, perhaps, with too dolorous and
lacrymatory a tone. A man should scarcely weep over a
quotation. But altogether the reply was magnificent, and
made the minister bite the dust.* With this comfortable
reflection we left the house.

* The late Sir Robert Peel, bom in 1788, was the son of a man who had be-
come a millionaire, as an enterprising cotton-manufacturer. Educated f(J
political life, young Peel entered Parliament in 1809 (having previously had
the unusual distinction of winning a " double-first class" degree at Oxford),
and soon was noticed as a well-informed and judicious speaker and worker.
In 1810, he was made Colonial under-secretary, Percival being Premier. From
1812 to 1818, he was Chief-Secretary for Ireland. In 1822, he succeeded
Addington (Lord Sidmouth) as Home Secretary, and, in that capacity, com-
menced the mitigation and consolidation of the criminal law. When Canning
became Premier, in 1827, Peel and five other Cabinet ministers resigned. In
1828, when Wellington formed his ministry, Peel was his Home Secretary, and,
as such, introduced and carried the Catholic Relief Bill in 1829, thereby incur-
ring the enmity of the great Toi*y exclusionist party. From 1830 to 1834, Peel
headed the opposition to Lord Grey's Reform Ministiy, and was summoned
from Italy, at the close of the latter year, to form a ministry which was broken
up in April, 1835. The Whigs resumed office, and retained it until the sum-
mer of 1841, when Lord Melbourne had to relinquish his position as Premier,
and Peel succeeded him, amid general hope, from \ ublic confidence in his ad-
ministrative faculties, that he would extricate the coui try from the financial and
other difficulties in which the Melbourne Cabinet had involved it. He imposed
ail Income and Property tax (the best, if fairly assessed), and in 1842, com-
menced his system of Free Trade, by sweeping away hundreds of imposts —
most of them small, but all vexatious. In 1845, he announced Free Trade in
Corn, to the joy of millions, who were led to expect more from it than they
have yet received, and to the dismay and anger of the landlords and farmers,
who had looked on Peel as their great bulwark. The Corn Laws were abol-
ished in June, 1846, and, immediately after, the Whigs and the Protectionists
uniting to oppose Peel, beat him on the Irish Coercion Bill, and forced him to
retire. On June 29, 1846, he announced the dissolution of his ministry, in
one of the ablest speeches he had ever delivered, and quitted office, the peo-
ple's favorite. For the following four years, his influence in public affairs was
immense. He was understood not to desire a return to office — but he wielded
immense moral power. On June 29, 1850, he was thrown off his horse, while
riding up Constitution Hill (London) and died from the effects of the fall on
July 2, 1850, mourned by the nation. All felt his loss — from the sovereign to
;he peasant. From the time that he threw off the trammels of party, Peel wad

216 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

It is not, of course, my intention to detail every circum-
stance of an interesting kind which occurred in the course of
this political excursion. From a crowd of materials, I select
what is most deserving of mention. I should not omit the
mention of a dinner given to the deputies by Mr. Brougham.
He invited us to his house upon the Saturday after our arrival,
and gave the Irish embassy a veiy splendid entertainment.
Some of the first men in England were of the party. There
were four Dukes at table. I had never witnessed an assem-
blage of so much rank, and surveyed with intense curiosity
the distinguished host and his illustrious guests. It is unne-
eessary to observe that Mr. Brougham went through the rou-
tine of convivial form with dignified facility and grace. It
was to his mind that I directed my chief attention, with a
view to compare him, in his hours of relaxation, with the men
of eminence with whom I had conversed in my own country.

The first circumstance that struck me was the entire absence
of effort, and the indifference about display. I perceived that
he stretched his faculties out, after the exhaustion of profes-
sional and parliamentary labor, in a careless listlessness;
and, if I may so say, threw his mind upon a couch. Curran,
Grattan, and Bushe, were the best talkers I had ever wit-
nessed. The first (and I heard a person make the same
remark in London) was certainly the most eloquent man
whose conversation I ever had an opportunity of enjoying.
But his serious reflections bore the character of harangue, and
his wit, with all its brilliancy, verged a little upon farce. He
was so fond, indeed, of introducing dialogue into his stories,
that at times his conversation assumed the aspect of a dra-
matic exhibition. There was, perhaps, too much tension of
the intellect in those masterpieces of mirth and pathos, in
which he appeared to be under the alternate influence of
Momus and of Apollo. The conversation of Mr. Grattan was
not of an after-dinner cast. You should have walked with
him among the woods of Tinnahinch, and listened to his recol-

emplmtically, the great English statesman of his time. Amid the al sorbing
cares of public life, he was the patron and fnend of art, literature, and science
and those who devote their minds to these ennobling pursuits. — M.

EROtJGJTAM's DINNER-PARTY.

lections of a better day by the sound of the lulling and roman-
tic waters of those enchanting groves, in which, it is said, he
studied the arts of elocution in his youth, and through which
he delighted to wander in the illuminated sunset of his glo-
rious age. It was necessary that his faculties should be
thrown into a swing before they should come into full play.
He poured out fine sentiments in glittering epigrams. His
mind became antithetical from continued habit, but it was
necessary that it should be thrown into excitement to bring it
into action. It was in sketches of character that he excelled ;
but you should give him time and leisure for the completion

of his miniatures. Bushe But I am deviating from

my theme.

To return to Mr. Brougham, he is, perhaps, more negligent
and heedless of what he says than any of these eminent per-
sons to whom I have alluded, and flings his opinions into
phrase without caring into what shape they may be moulded.
I remember to have read an article in the Edinburgh Review,
upon Cumin's life, that eminent men in Hngland never make
any effort to shine in conversation ; and I saw an illustration
of the remark at Mr. Brougham's table. He did not tell a
single story — except, indeed, that he mentioned a practical
joke which had been played upon Joseph Hume,* who
takes things " au pic de la lettre" by passing some strange,
uncouth person upon him as Mr. O'Connell. The latter sat
between the Dukes of Devonshiret and Leinster. It was the

* Joseph Hume, bom in Scotland in 1777, obtained a large fortune by con-
tracts in India, during the Mahratta war. He returned in 1808, and entered
Parliament in 1812. With slight intermission, he has been in the Commoiis
ever since, and, from his superior length of service as a member, is now enti-
tled to the Nestorian title of " Father of the House." Mr. Hume's great merit
is that he applied himself, session • after session, to correct the extravagant
expenditure of successive Governments. At first, he was a Tory, but, for the
last five-and-thirty years, has been a Liberal — so much so, indeed, that, on one
occasion, he stated in Parliament that " he would vote that black was white,
if it would serve his party!'' As a speaker, Mr. Hume is much below par; as
a man of business, industrious and good tempere'd, he has no superior. — M.

t The Duke of Devonshire, one of the wealthiest peers in England, has very
large estates in the South of Ireland, which are let at low rents, and well ad-
ministered. He is » ow in his sixty-fourth year, and has retired from public

VOL. II.— 10

TitE CATHOLIC

place of honor, and the learned gentleman filled it without
airs or affectation. In all his intercourse with the great in
London, I remarked that he comported himself in a manner
perfectly becoming his character and station in his own coun-
try. I was glad to find that, unlike Sir Pertinax, " he could
stand straight in the presence of a great man." The atten-
tion of the company was very much fixed upon him. But he
spoke little. I remember Mr. Moore telling me an anecdote
of Mrs. Siddons, which is not unillustrative of the scene. A
large party were invited to meet her. She remained silent, as
is her wont, and disappointed the expectations of the whole
company, who watched for every syllable that should escape
her lips. At length, however, being asked if she would have
some Burton ale, she replied, with a sepulchral intonation, that
" she liked ale vastly."* To this interesting remark the dis-
play of her intellectual powers was confined. I do not think
that Mr. O'Oonnell, upon this occasion, gave utterance to any
more profound or sagacious observation.

Nearly opposite to him sat Sir Francis Burdett and Mr.
Lambton.f The latter seemed to me to watch Mr. O'QonneU

life — which he never cared for. He was spoken of, repeatedly, as being about
to accept the office of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, but the only public situation
in which he appeared, was that of Ambassador to Russia, in 1826, at the cor-
onation of the Emperor Nicholas. He is a well-known patron of the fine arts
and his collection of sculpture, paintings, and books, at one of his seats (Chats-
worth, in Derbyshire), is world-famed. He strongly advocated Catholic Eman-
cipation.— M.

* I remember mentioning this anecdote to the late Mr. Maturin, who said
" The voice of Mrs. Siddons, like St. Paul's bell, should never toll except for
the death of kings." [Lockhart's Life of Scott records an instance of this, at
the table of the Ariosto of the North, where Mrs. Siddons, in an eminently
tragic voice, thus addressed a servant: "I asked for water, boy — you've
brought me beer." — M.]

t John George Lambton, born April, 1792, entered Parliament early, and
always opposed the Tory party. Lord Grey was his father-in-law, but Lamb-
ton did not follow that haughty aristocrat's example as regards Canning, whose
Ministry he supported. In 1828, he was created Baron Durham. In 1830,
he became a member of Lord Grey's Ministry, and was understood to have
proposed a much larger measure of Parliamentary Reform than Lord Grey
would sanction. Lord Durham became leader of the movement party, and his
assumption of the office of Premier was considered at hand. But Lord Grey

DUKE OF SUSSEX. 219

with a very unremitting vigilance. He hardly spoke himself.
His air is foreign ; he is full of intelligence, and looks like a
picture, by Murillo, of a young Spanish Jesuit who has just
completed his novitiate. At the other end of the table sat the
celebrated Mr. Scarlett,* who is at English nisi-prius facile
princeps. I thought I could perceive the wile of a lawyer in
his watchful and searching eye —

" He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the thoughts of men."

His smile, too, was perhaps a little like that of Cassius. He
said little — altogether, there was not as much alertness in the
dialogue as in the champagne.

The Duke of Sussex seemed to me the only person who
exhibited much hilarity of spirit. There is a good deal of
buoyancy in the temperament of his lloyal Highness. He
speaks with great correctness and fluency ; is perfectly kind
and affable ; and laughs with all his heart at his friend's jokes
as well as at his own. If the Duke of Sussex were our Lord
Lieutenant (as I hope he yet may be), he would put us into good
humor with each other in a month.t I would substitute Ober-

quitted office in 1834, and, in the year after (to get him out of the way?) Lord
Durham was sent to Russia as Ambassador, where he remained for two years.
In 1838, he was sent to Canada, as Governor-General, with almost dictatorial
powers, in the use of which he was not supported by the Melbourne Ministiy
in England, whereupon he returned home, the same year. He died, July,
1840. In debate he was a good speaker, but an air of hauteur dulled the
effects of his most impassioned language. — M.

* Sir James Scarlett, then a whig, but afterward Attorney-General under
the Wellington Administration. He eventually became Lord Abinger, and
Chief Baron of the Exchequer. — M.

t Augustus Frederick, Duke of Sussex, was sixth son of George III., and
much offended his father by contracting marriage, when a minor, with Lady
Augusta Murray, daughter of a Scottish Earl. (One of the newspapers of the
day stated, that " Lady Augusta soon became pregnant, and returned to
land; the Duke of Sussex did the same"} This union, which took place
Italy, was confirmed, on their return to England, and two children were " the
consekence of that manoover," to use the classic words of the elder Mr. Wcller.
One of these was the late Sir Augustus d'Este, who unsuccessfully sought the
Dukedom on his father's death, the other (who, when I first saw her, in 1828,
was one of the finest women in England) was Mademoiselle d'Este, who, in
age, married Sir Thomas Wilde, created Lord Truro and Chanculjor qf

f the
Bng- V
cr. in
"t>,* \

THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

oil's whistle for Alecto's horn.* I should like to hear the hon-
est and cordial laugh of the Duke of Sussex at an aggregate
levee of Catholics and Protestants at the Castle. I should
like to hear the echoes of St. Patrick's Hall,t taking up the
royal mirth in a long and loud reverberation. What might,
perad venture, be an excess of vivacity in a gentleman, would
be condescending pleasantry in a prince.

I understood, at Mr. Brougham's, that it was intended to
give a public dinner to the Catholic deputies, at which the
leading advocates of Emancipation were to be present. Much
preparation was made for this festival of liberality, but it was
afterward conceived that it would be more judicious upon the
part of the friends of religious liberty not to provoke their an-
tagonists into a reaction, which it was thought likely might be
produced. The idea was abandoned ; but, in order to give the
deputies an opportunity of expressing their sentiments in pub-
lic, the British Catholics held a general meeting at the Free-
masons' Hall.

The Duke of Norfolk was in the chair.f The assembly was

England in 1850. — The Prince's marriage was dissolved by the Prerogative
Court, and the union accordingly ended in separation. At the age of
twenty-eight, Prince Augustus was created Duke of Sussex, with an allowance
of twelve thousand pounds sterling a year, afterward raised to twenty thousand
pounds sterling a year — which he always complained was too small ! He sided
with the Whig party — as much as a Prince could. He laid himself out for pop-
ularity, and, at public dinners and charitable meetings, was Mineral in giving —
his speeches. He had a fine library, and had accumulated a magnificent col-
lection of Bibles, in various languages and of various editions. Some time
before his death, he wedded the rich widow of a city knight, bearing the illus-
trious name of — Buggins ! She has since been created Duchess of Inverness.
Born January, 1773, the Duke of Sussex died April, 1843, aged seventy. Hia
pompous manner would have disgusted the Irish in a week, if he had been
sent to Dublin as their Viceroy. — M.

* In Wieland's Oberon, at the sound of a magic whistle, laughter is instanta-
neously produced; a merriment takes the place of strife.

t A spacious apartment in Dublin Castle, in which Royalty (personally or by
proxy) holds levees and drawing-rooms, and where the Installation of Knights
of St. Patrick generally takes place. — M.

| The Duke of Norfolk, in 1825, was a stout, red-faced gentleman, looking
very like a London Alderman, accustomed to civic banquets. He was as plain
\n hip manners as in his appearance. Indeed, it was reported that he had been

221

not as numerous as I Lad expected — it was in a great measure
composed of Irish. Many persons were deterred from attend-
ing by the title of the meeting, which seemed to confine it to
Roman Catholics. In consequence of the impression that Prot-
estants were not invited to assist in these proceedings, few of
the Parliamentary supporters of Emancipation attended. Mr.
Coke, of Norfolk, who sat next to the chairman, was almost the
only English Protestant of distinction whom I observed at the
meeting.* I believe, however, that an anxiety to hear Mr.
O'Connell, induced a great number of the literary men attached
to the periodical and daily press to attend.

Mr. O'Connell appeared to me extremely solicitous about the
impression which he should produce, and prepared and arranged
his topics with unusual care. In public meetings in Ireland,
he is so confident in his powers, that he gives himself little
trouble in the selection of his materials, and generally trusts
to his emotions for his harangues.t He is, on that account, oc-

known as " Mr. Howard," a wine-merchant, in one of the streets off the Strand,
in London, before the death of " the dirty Duke," without legitimate male
issue, drove " all the blood of all the Howards" up to fever-heat, in expectation
of turning out next of kin. The Duke, with the uncleanly soubriquet, had
turned Protestant, in order to sit in Parliament. The present Duke has also
abjured the faith of his ancestors. The " dirty Duke" never underwent volun-
tary ablution, but, once or twice a week, when dead-drunk, was stripped, laid
upon a table, soaped, scrubbed, and towelled, into a state of comparative clean-
liness.— The Dukedom, conferred in 1483, is the oldest in England, and its
owner is therefore Premier Duke. He is also Hereditary Earl-Marshal, and,
as such, has the regulation of the coronation ceremonies, and attests the signa-
ture of the Sovereign to the documents wherein Peers, Peeresses, Privy Coun-
cillors, and others, are invited to participate in the pageant. — M.

* Thomas William Coke, of Holkham, in the county of Norfolk, was a de-
scendant of Sir Edward Coke, the great lawyer, and will be chiefly remembered
for the extent and success of his improvements in English agriculture, by which
he raised the value of his estates from two thousand to twenty thousand pounds
sterling a year. He was of the extreme liberal party, from whom he presented
BO many remonstrant addresses to George III., that his Majesty jocosely said,
" Coke, if you bring me another of these, I'll certainly knight you" — a severe
threat to a man who prided himself on his old family, had declined a baronetcy
as too low, and claimed a dormant earldom. His friends the Whigs, with
whom he had always voted, created him Earl of Leicester in 1837, when lie
was eighty-five years old. He died in June, 1842, aged ninety. — M.

| The character of O'Connell's eloquence has never been clearly indicated.

222 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

casionally desultory and irregular. But there is no man more
capable of lucid exposition, when he previously deliberates
upon the order in which he should array the topics upon which
he intends to dwell. He undertook, on this occasion, the very
laborious task of tracing the progress of the penal code, and
epitomized in some measure the history of his country. For
the first hour he was, perhaps, a little encumbered with small de-
tails; but when he advanced into the general consideration of
the grievances under which the great body of the people are
doomed to labor — when he painted the insolence of the domi-
nant faction — when he showed the effects of the penal code
brought to his own door — he seized with an absolute dominion
upon the sympathies of his acclaiming auditors, and poured the
full tide of his own emotions into their hearts. I did not greatly
heed the results of Mr. O'ConnelPs oratory upon the great bulk
of his audience. Many a big drop, compounded of heat and
patriotism, of tears and of perspiration, stood upon the rude and
honest faces that were cast in true Hibernian mould, and were
raised toward the glory of Ireland with a mixed expression of
wonder and of love. I was far more anxious to detect the feel-
ing produced upon the literary and English portion of the au-
dience. It was most favorable.

Mr. Charles Butler, near whom I happened to sit, and whom

Its leading feature was intense earnestness. Whatever his style, and it would
vary a dozen times in the same speech, he always had a purpose. He was not
a man to string words together into pretty sentences, as women string beads of
coral, but he spoke with a will and with an aim. His Irish auditors expected
to be amused as well as roused, and O'Connell entertained as well as excited
them. He had dropped his plummet into the Irish heart, and sounded its re-
motest depths. He has been compared, at various times, to the great orators
whom Ireland has produced ; but he resembled none of them singly. He had
less imagination than Cumin, less philosophy than Burke, less wit than Can-
ning, less rhetoric than Sheil, less classicality than Bushe, less eloquence than
Plunker, less pathos than Grattan ; but he had more power than any of them.
His la: guage was forcible, even when he was most playful. And, when ad-
dregfing an Irish audience, he applied himself to charm them, there was such
an alienation of style — now soaring to the loftiest, and now subsiding to the
most familiar — that he carried all hearts with him, until the listeners seemed
ondtii i he spell of an enchanter, moved to anger or to mirth even as he might
degjre This was to be indeed a g-vit orator, and this was O'Connell. — JVJ.

MB. SHEIL'S SPEECH. 223

I should be disposed to account a severe but excellent critic,
was greatly struck. He several times expressed his admira-
tion of the powers of the speaker. The applause of such a man
is worth that of a " whole theatre of others." Mr. Coke, also,
whose judgment is, I understand, held in very great estima-
tion, and who has witnessed the noblest displays of Parliament-
ary eloquence, intimated an equally high opinion. Immedi-
ately under Mr. O'Connell there was an array, and a very for-
midable one, of the delegates from the press. They appeared
to me to survey Mr. O'Connell with a good deal of supercilious
distaste at the opening of his speech ; and, although some
among them persevered to the last in their intimations of na-
tional disrelish, and shrugged their shoulders at "Irish elo-
quence," the majority surrendered their prejudices to their
good feelings, and ultimately concurred in the loud plaudits
with which Mr. O'Connell concluded his oration. It occupied
nearly three hours and a half.

Mr. O'Hanlon succeeded Mr. O'Connell. He spoke well,
but the auditory were exhausted, and began to break up. Less
attention was paid to Mr. O'Hanlon than he would have re-
ceived at a more opportune moment. The excitation produced
by Mr. O'Connell, the lateness of the hour, and the recollec-
tions of dinner, were potent impediments to rhetorical effect.

Mr. Sheil rose under similar disadvantages. He casl that
sort of look about him which I have witnessed in an actor when
he surveys an empty house. The echo produced by the dimi-
nution of the crowd drowned his voice, which, being naturally
of a harsh quality, requires great management, and, in order to
produce any oratorical impression, must be kept under the control
of art. Mr. Sheil became disheartened, and lost his command
over his throat. He grew loud and indistinct. He also fell into
the mistake of laying aside his habitual cast of expression and
of thought, and, in place of endeavoring to excite the feelings
of his auditory, wearied them with a laborious detail of unin-
teresting facts. He failed to produce any considerable impres-
sion excepting at the close of his speech, in which, after dwel-
ling upon the great actions which were achieved by the Catho-
lic ancestors of some of the eminent men around him, he intro-

224: THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

duced Jean of Arc prophesying to Talbot the observation of
his illustrious name, and the exclusion of his posterity from the
councils of his country.*

I should not omit to mention the speech delivered by Lord
Stourton at this meeting. It was easy to collect from his man-
ner that he was not in the habit of addressing a large assem-
bly, but the sentiments to which he gave utterance were high
and manly, and becoming a British nobleman who had been
spoliated of his rights. His language was not only elegant
and refined, but adorned with imagery of an original cast, de-
rived from those sciences with which his Lordship is said to
be familiar.t Some of the deputies dined with him after the
meeting. They were sumptuously entertained.

I had now become more habituated to the display of patri-
cian magnificence in England, and saw the exhibition of its
splendor without surprise. Yet I confess that at Norfolk- house,
where the Duke did Mr. O'Connell, Lord Killeen, and others
of our deputation, the honor to invite them, and, in compliment
to our cause, brought together an assemblage of men of the
highest rank and genius in England, I was dazzled with the
splendor and gorgeousness of an entertainment to which I had
seen no parallel. Norfolk-house is one of the finest in London.
The interior, \vhich is in the style prevalent about eighty years
ago ki England, realizes the notions which one forms of a pal-
ace. It was indeed occupied at one time by some members of
the royal family ; and the Duke told us that the late King
[George III.] was born in the room in which we dined. We
passed through a series of magnificent apartments, rich with
crimson and fretted with gold. There was no glare of exces-
sive light in this vast and seemingly endless mansion ; and the
massive lamps which were suspended from the embossed and
gilded ceilings, diffused a shadowed illumination, and left the

* Mi-. Sheil, whose speech at this meeting was a failure — the patience of
his audience having been exhausted before he rose — adroitly attempts here to
explain away the fact. From some cause or other, his voice, naturally shrill,
almost wholly failed him, and his auditors were greatly disappointed. — M.

i The Lord Stourton here mentioned was the seventeenth Baron of that name,
the peerage bearing date 1448. The family is Catholic. — M.

THE DUKE OF NORFOLK. 225

distance in the dusk. The transition to the great chamber
where the company were assembled, and which was glowing
with light, presented a brilliant and imposing contrast. Here
we found the Duke of Norfolk, surrounded by persons of high
distinction. Among the company were the Dukes of Sussex,
Devonshire, and Leinster, Lord Grey, Lord Fitzwilliam, Lord
Shrewsbury, Lord Donoughmore, Lord Stourton, Lord Clifford,
Lori Nugent, Lord Arundel, Sir Francis Burdett, Mr. Butler,
Mr. Abercrombie, Mr. Blunt, Mr. Denman, and other persons of
eminence and fame.*

The Duke of Norfolk came forward to meet us, and gave us
a cordial and cheerful welcome. This amiable nobleman is
distinguished by the kindness and goodness of his manners,
which bespeak an excellent and unassuming spirit, and through
all the political intercourse which we had with him the great
question, in which he feels so deep an interest, manifested a
shrewd sound sense, and a high and intense anxiety for the
success of the great cause of religious liberty, from which very
beneficial results have already ensued. He has been very
instrumental in effecting a junction between the English and
Irish Roman Catholics, and has thus conferred a great service
upon both. We were received by him with the most gracious
and unaffected urbanity.

I was struck with the perfect freedom from authoritativeness
which characterized most of the eminent men who were placed
about me. There is among the petty aristocracy of Ireland

* Of these, Lords Grey, Shrewsbuiy, Donoughmore, Clifford, Arundel, Mr.
Butler, and Mr. Blunt, have departed this life. Mr. Abercrombie, then a very
obscure man (who worked himself up, from being the Duke of Devonshire's
steward), used his employer's interest to get him made Chief Baron of the Ex-
chequer in Scotland, at four thousand pounds sterling a year. It was so much
a sinecure, that, in the thirty months he held it, he only tried four cases, thus
receiving ten thousand pounds for doing nothing. The sinecure was abolished,
and Abercrombie was compensated by a pension of two thousand pounds, which
was suspended when he was made Speaker of the House of Commons in 1837
(salary six thousand pounds a year, and one thousand pounds more for a house),
and, after two years' service, retired on a pension of four thousand pounds for
his own life and that of his son, and a peerage as Baron Dumferline. What
renders this more strange is, that this man had boorish manners, no learning, no
eloquence, nothing but the Duke of Devonshire's patronage to push him on, - M.

10*

226 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.

•*••

infinitely more arrogance of port and look than I observed
among the first men of the British empire. Certain of oui
colonial aristocracy are far more bloated and full-blown with a
notion of their own importance. The reason is obvious. The
former rest in security upon their unquestionable title to re-
spect. Their dignity fits them like an accustomed garment.
But men who are raised but to a small elevation, on which
they hold a dubious ground, feel it necessary to impress their
consequence upon others by an assumption of superiority which
is always offensive, and generally absurd. Lord Fitzwilliam
was the person with whom I was disposed to be most pleased.
This venerable nobleman carries, with a gray head, a young
and fresh heart. He may be called the old Adam of the
political world ; and England might well exclaim to her faith-
ful servant, in the language of Orlando —

" Oh, good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world !
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
When none will sweat but for promotion."

It is impossible to look upon this amiable and dignified
patrician of the olden stamp, without a feeling of affectionate
admiration for his pure and distinguished patriotism and the
warm love of his country, which lives (if I may so say) under
the ashes of age, and requires but to be stirred to emit the
flashes of its former fire. The natural apathy incidental to his
time of life, appears habitually to prevail over him ; but speak
to him of the great interests of the empire — speak to him of
that measure which at an earlier period he was delegated
by his sovereign to complete — speak to him of Ireland, and
through the dimness that loads his eye, a sudden illumination
will break forth. For Ireland he entertains a kind of pa-
ternal tenderness. He reverted with a Nestorian pride to
the period of his own government; and mentioned that he
had preserved the addresses which he had received from
the Roman Catholic body as among the best memorials of
his political life. That he should live long enough to see
the emancipation of the Irish people, seemed to be the wish
nearest to his heart. It does one good —it is useful in a mora»

LORD GREY. 22 7

point of view, to approach such a person -as Lord Fitzwilliam,
and to feel that there is in public men such a thing as a pure
and disinterested anxiety for the benefit of mankind, and that
the vows of all politicians are not, whatever we may be disposed
to think, " as false as dicers' oaths."

In describing the impression produced upon me by Lord
Fitzwilliam, I have mentioned the result of my observation at
Mr. Ponsonby's, where the deputies afterward met him, as well
as at Norfolk house. Lord Grey also dined at Mr. Ponsonby's,
where I had a better opportunity of noting him.* He is some-

* Charles, Earl Grey, born in 1764, was M. P. for his native county of
Northumberland, almost as soon as he attained his majority. He soon display-
ed ability, as a debater on the liberal side, and was associated with Burke,
Sheridan, and others, as one of the managers of the impeachment of Warren
Hastings. He went beyond Fox in his democratical opinions. On Pitt's death,
in 1806, when " All the Talents" formed a Cabinet, of which Fox was the ac-
tual, while the Duke of Portland was the nominal head, Mr. Grey (who now
bore the honorary title of Viscount Howick, his father having been made Earl
Grey in 1802) took office as Fii-st Lord of the Admiralty. In October, 1806,
Lord Howick succeeded Fox as Foreign Secretary, but the Ministry soon
broke up, and, on the death of his father in 1807, he went to the Upper House,
as Earl Grey, and warmly defended Queen Caroline in 1820. He remained
out of office until November 1830, but on two or three occasions, when a Coa-
lition ministry was talked of, there wei-e negotiations (always ending in failure)
to bring in Lord Grey. His personal pride intervened — as he wanted first
place, or none. This, no doubt, made him strongly oppose Canning's Ministry,
•in 1827 — it was "most tolerable and not to be endured" that a mere common-
er should be Prim3 Minister, while Earl Grey was ready and anxious for the
office ! At last, in 1830, he obtained the prize — because Parliamentary Reform
was needed, and, as Mr. Grey, he had suggested a plan some five-and-thirty
years before. After a great struggle, Reform was granted — more than Grey
actually thought prudent to bestow (having such a horror of democratic in-
roads that he once publicly declared that " he would stand by his order") but
less than his son-in-law, Lord Durham, thought was wise and just. In July,
1834, he resigned office, and took no further part in politics. He died, July,
1845, aged eighty-one. As Minister of the Crown, he had one overpowering
fault, which Peel was eminently free from — that of nepotism. It really appeared
as if the object of his taking office was to provide for his family, his connections,
for every one named Grey. For this he was constantly baited by Cobbett, who
published what he called " The Grey List," stating the various offices to which
Grey had been appointed, giving the name of each official, and showing that
they were the recipients of about one hundred and seventy thousand pounds
pterling a year — all, but twenty thousand pounds sterling, being derived from

TftK CATHOLIC

wliat silent and reserved. It is the fasliion among Tories to
account liim contemptuous and haughty ; but I can not coincide,
with them. He has, indeed, a lofty bearing, but it is not at
all artificial. It is the aristocracy of virtue as well as rank.
There is something uncompromising, and perhaps stern as
well as inflexible in his aspect. Tall, erect, and collected in
himself, he carries the evidences of moral and intellectual
ascendency impressed iipon him, and looks as if he knew him-
self to be, in the proudest sense which the poet has attached
to the character, not only a great but an honest man. And
why should he not look exactly what he is? Why should he
not wrap himself in the consciousness of his political integrity,
and seem to say, "meet virtute involve" while so many others,
who were once the companions of his journey, and who turned
aside into a more luxuriant road, in taking a retrospect, as the
close of life is drawing near, of the mazy course which they
have trod, behold it winding through a rich and champagne
country, and occasionally deviating into low but not unpro-
ductive declivities? This eminent man, in looking back from
the point of moral elevation on which he stands, will trace his
path in one direct and unbroken line — through a lofty region
which has been barren of all but fame, and from which no
allurement of ease, or of profusion, could ever induce him to
depart.

Lord Grey has a touch of sadness upon him, which would
look dissatisfaction to a placeman's eye ; but there is nothing
really morose or atrabilious in his expression. He has found
that sorrow can unbar the palaces of the great, as well as
unlatch the cottages of the lowly. His dear friend and near
ally is gone — his party is almost broken.* He has survived

life appointments ! The truth of these accusations was undeniable, and helped,
no doubt, to account for Lord Grey's unpopularity after the Reform struggle
was ended. He was an eloquent speaker — seldom warmed into passion 01
even into excitement, but fluent, correct, and sometimes rather forcible. — M.

* The allusion here appears to be to Fox, who, however, had died nearly
nineteen years before. Charles James Fox, born in 1749, was the second son
of the first Lord Holland, by whom he was educated for political life. At the
age of nineteen, two years before the legal age, he was elected member of par
Uament. From 1770 to 1774, he was an advocate of the Ministry, and was

JAMES FOX.

tlie death, and, let me add, tlie virtue of many illustrious men,
and looks like tlie lonely column of the fabric which he sus-
tained so nobly, and which has fallen at last around him. It
is not wonderful that he should seem to stand in solitary lofti-
ness, and that melancholy should have given a solemn tinge to
his mind. He spoke of the measures intended to be made
collateral to emancipation, and said,t

successively Lord of the Admiralty and of the Treasury. At the age of 24,
the Ministry dismissed him — thereby converting a warm friend into a bitter
opponent. He resisted the American war, and on Lord North's removal, ob-
tained a seat in the Cabinet, as Secretary of State. The Rockingham Adminis-
tration breaking up, on the death of its head, Lord Shelburne became Premier,
and after some time, Fox coalesced with Lord North (his old antagonist) : a
measure which nearly ruined the popularity of both. Their India Bill led to
their downfall, and the nomination of William Pitt, in his 25th year, as Pre-
mier. Fox espoused the leading principles of the French Revolution, which
Pitt contended against, and this also led to a total rupture with Burke, long
his friend, and to the erasure of his name, by the hand of th« King himself,
from the Rol) of the Privy Council. When Pitt died, in 1806, Lord Grenville
drew Fox from opposition, and made him Foreign Secretary. He did not long
hold office, for which he had so long contended, but died in September, 1806.
The eloquence of Fox was vehement rather than polished, but it was forcible
and effective. In private life he was convivial, witty, and genial. He was
somewhat of an historian, too, but spoke better than he wrote. He was addict-
ed to gaming, and was a man of uncalculating and almost boundless extrava-
gance. He was buried in Westminister Abbey, close to his great rival Pitt.
Scott says

" Drop upon Fox's tomb a tear

'Twill trickle to his rival's bier."

Fox was the intimate friend of the Prince of Wales, afterward George IV.,
for many years, but the intimacy broke off after the marriage of the Prince.- — M.
t This article, published May, 1825, broke off thus abruptly, with " ( The
Conclusion in our next Number) " holding out promise of some more of the
personal and political gossip which attracted much attention at the time. The
" conclusion" never appeared. Mr. Sheil told me that, though written, it was
suppressed, at the strong desire of the late Lord Grey, one of the haughtiest
aristocrats in England, at the time, who was alarmed at the idea of any of his
table-talk being reported! 1 believe that, until now, the exact reason of this
suppression, though suspected at the time, has not been stated on authority. — M

ARCHIBALD HAMILTON ROWAN.

OF all the remarkable men I have met, Hamilton Rowan, I
think, is the one whose external appearance most completely
answers to the character of his mind, and the events of his
life. The moment your eye has taken in the whole of his fine
athletic configuration, you see at once that nature designed
him to be a great massive engine of a popular cause. When
he entered life, he might easily have taken his place as a
leading member of the aristocracy of his country. He had
high connections, a noble fortune, manners and accomplish-
ments that would have graced a court — but his high and
adventurous spirit could not have brooked the sedentary forms,
and still less the despotic maxims, of an Irish state-career.
He never could have endured to sit at a council-board, with
his herculean limbs gathered under him, to deliberate upon the
most expedient modes of trampling upon public rights. As a
mere matter of animal propensity, his more natural vocation
was to take the side of enterprise and danger — to mingle in
the tumult of popular commotion, and leading on his band of
citizen-soldiers " to the portals of the Castle, to call aloud in
their name for the minister to come forth and resist at his peril
the national cry for * Universal Emancipation.'"* This was
his election, and his conscience coincided with his impulses.
He became, as might be expected, the idol of the populace,
and, from the qualities which made him so, too formidable to
the state to be tolerated. He was prosecuted and convicted,
by a tribunal of very doubtful purity ,t of feeling too ardently
for the political degradation of Ireland.

* See his trial in Howell's State Trials, for 1794.

t See the motion for a new trial, and the documents thera used.-— Howell's
State Trials.

31S PE&SOffAl APPEARANCE. 231

Tims far Hamilton Rowan had acted upon tlie principles of
an Irish reformer, and if lie avowed them indiscreetly, or
pushed them too far, he suffered for it. In his imprisonment,
which he at least considered as oppression, he was provoked to
listen to more dangerous doctrines. He committed himself in
conferences with a spy who procured a ready access to his
presence; and to avoid the consequences, effected his escape
to a foreign land.

After several years passed in wandering, and exile, the
merits of his personal character prevailed against the remem-
brance of his political aberrations, and an act of royal clemency,
generously conceded without any humiliating conditions, re-
stored him once more to his country. There he has since
resided, in the bosom of domestic quiet, and in the habitual
exercise of every virtue that can ennoble private life. He has
the satisfaction, too, in his old age, of finding that, in a public
point of view, his debt of gratitude to the Crown has not been
wholly unpaid. In his eldest son (Captain Hamilton, of the
Cambrian frigate) he has given to the British navy one of its
most gallant and distinguished commanders, and for whose
sake alone every man of a generous spirit should abstain from
gratuitous and cruel railings at the obsolete politics of the
father.*

Hamilton Rowan's exterior is full of interest. Whether you
meet him abroad or in a drawing-room, you are struck at once
with his physical pre-eminence. Years have now rendered
his frame less erect, but all the proportions of a noble model
remain. In his youth he was remarkable for feats of strength
and activity. The latter quality was put to no ordinary test,
in a principal incident of his life, to which I shall presently
refer. His face, both in feature and expression, is in strict
accordance with the rest of his person. It has nothing deno-
ting extraordinary comprehension, or subtlety of intellect ; but
in its masculine outline, which the workings of time have
brought out into more prominent relief — in the high and bushy

* This son, who died before his venerable father, eminently distinguished him-
self in the contest for the independence of Greece, and his father never recov-
ered his loss. — y.

232 ARCItlBALt) HAMILTON

brow — the unblenching eye — tlie compressed lips, and in the
composed yet somewhat stern stability of expression that marks
the whole, you find the symbols of high moral determination —
of fidelity to principle — of self-reliance and* self-oblivion, and
above all of an uncompromising personal courage, that could
front every form of danger face to face.*

The austerity of his countenance vanishes the moment he
addresses you. His manners have all the fascination of the
old school. Every tone of his voice is softened by an innate
and undeviating courtesy that makes no distinctions of rank
or sex. In the trivial details of common life, Hamilton Rowan
is as gentle and complimentary to men as other men are in
their intercourse with females. This suavity of demeanor is
not the velvet of art; it is only one of the signs of a compre-
hensive philanthropy, which as habitually breaks out in acts
of genuine sympathy and munificent relief, wherever a case o^
human suffering occurs within its range.

The circumstances of Hamilton Rowan's escape from im-
prisonment, as I once heard them minutely detailed, possessed
all the interest of a romantic narrative. The following are
such of the leading particulars as I can recall, to my recollec-
tion. Having discovered (on the 28th of April, 1794) the
extent of the danger in which he was involved, he arranged a

* Archibald Hamilton Rowan, who must have been a giant in his prime,
.was one of the most remarkable men I ever saw. One might almost think he
had been made for one purpose — digito monstrari ! He was long past seventy
when I saw him. In stature he was even as one of the sons of Anak. His
strongly-marked features indicated firmness and benevolence. His eyes, dark
and flashing, beneath shaggy brows. His port, lofty. His stride, large; His
manners, of the old school of gentlest courtesy — but his frown, when offended
or excited, positively frightening ! Crowds used to watch for a sight of this
fine "old Irish gentleman," as he came out of the club-house in Kildare street,
bearing in his hand a mighty blackthorn (which might have served Hercules
for a club), and escorted, on either side, by two immense Irish wolf-dogs, re-
ported to be the very last of their race. Looking at him, and surveying the gen-
eration among whom he towered, like a forest-oak over a crowd of plantation
siirubs, a contemplative man might sigh, and utter, " There were Men — in the
days when he began to live." Mr. Rowan died in November, 1834, aged
eighty-four. In his latter years he was much afflicted with deafness, and grief
for his gallant son, Captain Hamilton, who died before him, had affected hh
Strong and truly masculine mind. — M

His ESCAPE. 233

plan of flight to be put into execution on the night of the 1st
of May. He had the address to prevail on the jailer of New-
gate, who knew nothing farther of his prisoner than that he
was under sentence of confinement for a political lihel, to
accompany him at night to Mr. Rowan's own house.* They
were received by Mrs. R., who had a supper prepared in the
front room of the second floor. The supper over, the prisoner
requested the jailer's permission to say a word or two in private
to his wife in the adjoining room. The latter consented, on
the condition of the door between the two rooms remaining
open. He had so little suspicion of what was meditated, that
instead of examining the state of this other room, he contented
himself with shifting his chair at the supper-table so as to give
him a view of the open doorway. In a few seconds his pris-
oner was beyond his reach, having descended by a single rope,
which had been slung from the window of the back chamber.

In his stable he found a horse ready saddled, and a peas-
ant's outside coat to disguise liim.f With these he posted to
the house of his attorney, Matthew Cowling, who was in the
secret of his design, and had promised to contribute to its
success by his counsel and assistance. Dowling was at home,
but unfortunately his house was full of company. He came
out to the street to Mr. Rowan, who personated the character
of a country client, and hastily pointing out the great risk to
be incurred from any attempt to give him refuge in his own
house, directed him to proceed to the Rotunda (a public build-
ing in Sackville street, with an open space in front) and re-
main there until 'Dowling could despatch his guests, and come
to him. Irish guests were in those days rather slow to separ-
ate from the bottle. For one hour and a half the fugitive had
to wait, leading his horse up and down before the Rotunda,
and tortured between fear and hope at the appearance of every
person that approached. He has often represented this as the
most trying moment of his life.

* In order, he pretended, to make out a deed, as fear had been expressed
that such an instrument signed in prison would be invalid. — M.

t Rowan states, in his autobiography, by which I correct Mr. Shell's narrative,
that, when he wn* in his wife's room, he changed his dre*« '<f"a hovdsman. — M

234: ARCHIBALD HAMILfON

Dowling at length arrived, and after a snort and anxious
conference, advised him to mount his horse, and make for the
country-house of their friend Mr. Sweetman, which was situate
about four miles off, on the northern side of the bay of Dublin,
This place he reached in safety, and found there the refuge
and aid which he sought.* After a delay of two or three days
Mr. Sweetman engaged three boatmen of the neighborhood to
man his own pleasure-boat, and convey Hamilton Rowan to
the coast of France. They put to sea at night; but a gale of
wind coming on, they were compelled to put back, and take
shelter under the lee of the Hill of Howth. While at anchor
there on the following morning a small revenue-cruiser sailing
by threw into the boat copies of the proclamations that had
been issued, offering two thousand pounds sterling for the ap-
prehension of Hamilton Rowan. The weather having moder-
ated, the boat pushed out to sea again. They had reached the
mid-channel, when a situation occurred almost equalling in
dramatic interest the celebrated Ccesarem vchis of antiquity.
It -would certainly make a fine subject for a picture. As the
boat careered along before a favorable wind, the exiled Irish-
man perceived the boatmen grouped apart, perusing one of the
proclamations, and by their significant looks and gestures,
discovering that they had recognised the identity of their
passenger, with the printed description. "Your conjectures
are right, my lads," said Rowan, "my life is in your hands —
but you are Irishmen." They flung the proclamation over-
board, and the boat continued her course.t On the third morn-

* The moment his escape from prison was known, parties of soldiers were sent
in pursuit of him, in all directions, and in his place of concealment he could
hear their measured tread. — M.

t It is now several years since the particulars of Mr. Rowan's escape were
related to me by a friend, as they had been communicated to him by the prin-
cipal actor himself; and my present recollection is that the above incident was
not included. I have often heard it, as I have given it, from other sources.
[What little money Rowan had with him, he divided equally among these
noble men, to whose generosity and quick sense of honor he owed his life —
for had he been recaptured, he would assuredly have been tried, and, if tried,
convicted, as his co-conspirator Jackson was. — There is an anecdote connected
with Jackson's not escaping which interests me much more than Rowan's es-
cape. Jackson was an Irish clergyman sent over from France, in 1794, to a*-

JACKSON'S CHIVALRY. 235

ing, a little after break of day, they arrived within view of
St. Paul de Leon, a fortified town, on the coast of Bretagne.
As the sun rose, it dispersed a dense fog that had prevailed
overnight, and discovered a couple of miles behind them, mov-
ing along under easy sail, the British Channel fleet, through
the thick of which their little boat had just shot unperceived.

The party, having landed, were arrested as spies, and cast
into prison, but in a few days an order from the French govern-
ment procured their liberation. Hamilton Rowan proceeded
to Paris, from which, in a political convulsion that shortly en-
sued, it was his fate once more to seek for safety in flight. He
escaped this time unaccompanied, in a wherry, which he rowed
himself down the Seine. The banks were lined with military ;
but he answered their challenges with so much address, that lie
was allowed to pass on unmolested. Having reached a French
port, he embarked for the United States of America, where, at
length, he found a secure asylum.

Hamilton Rowan, though of Irish blood, was born and edu-
cated in England. In his youth he acquired a large property
under the will of his maternal grandfather, Mr. Rowan, a bar-
rister and lay -fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, who, in a kind
of prophetic spirit, made it a condition of the bequest, "that
his grandson should not come to Ireland until after he should
be twenty-five years old."

certain whether if the Directory invaded Ireland, the mass of the people would
receive the French. He communicated his business to an attorney in London,
who sold him to Pitt, and was employed to follow Jackson to Ireland and watch
him. After a time, the informer " gave tongue," and Jackson was arrested —
he was subsequently tried (the first case of high treason in Ireland for more
than a century), convicted, and brought up for judgment, but he evaded it, by
taking poison, and died in the dock, his last words, which were addressed to
Curran, being those of Pierre, " We have deceived the senate." When in
prison, Jackson was visited by a friend who remained until late at night. Jack-
son went with him to the door where the jailer generally waited. They found
the man asleep and the prison-keys by his side, on the ground. Jackson
took them up, opened the prison-door, and was urged by his friend to escape.
He hesitated for a moment — " No," said fie, " I could do it, but what would
the consequences be to this poor fellow, who has been so kind to me ? Let
me remain and meet my fate." He closed the door, turning from his friend
and liberty, locked himself in, and resumed his place in the dungeon, — M.J

JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.

THE iirst opportunity I had of closely observing the eminent
statesman and celebrated legislator whose name is prefixed to
this article, was afforded by the Louth election [1826J. Mr. Fos-
ter is so intimately connected with that remarkable event, that
some account of the details which accompanied it will not
be inappropriate. The standard of the Association had been
raised in Waterford, and Villiers Stuart proclaimed himself the
'antagonist of the House of Curraghmore. All eyes were directed
to the field in which the great contest was to be waged. , Both
the combatants brought hereditary rank and vast opulence as
their allies, besides the auxiliary passions of the powerful par-
ties to which they were respectively attached. There was,
however, nothing surprising in the enterprise of Mr. Stuart.
During his minority, the savings of his estate had accumulated
to a very large sum, and he was possessed of the means of
engaging in a bold political adventure, without running any
risk of permanently injuring his fortune. It would have been
far stranger if, with his large property and his enlightened
opinions, he had allowed the Beresfords to maintain an undis-
puted masterdom in his county.

While the national attention was fixed upon the events
which were taking place in Waterford, news arrived in Dublin
which excited a far greater sensation than the contest between
the two rival patricians of Dromona and Curraghmore; and it
was announced that Mr. Alexander Dawson, a retired barrister
with a small fortune, had started for Louth. In that county
the Protestant gentry were regarded as omnipotent. For
upward of half a century, the Jocelyns and the Fosters had

LOTJTH ELEOTKN. 237

returned two members to Parliament, and divided the county,
like a family borough, between them. A strong and appa-
rently indissoluble coalition had been effected between Lord
Roden* and Lord Oriel; and it was supposed to be impossible
to make any effectual opposition to the union of Orangeism
and of Evangelism, which the wily veteran of Ascendency, and
the frantic champion of the New Reformation, had effected.

To this combination of power Mr. Dawson had neither
wealth nor connections to oppose. He had even intimated
that he would not bear any portion of the expenses, and
must be returned by popular contribution. The ordinary
preparations had not been made, and it was only three days
before the election commenced that his intention was de-
clared. Leslie Foster affected to treat his pretensions with
derision. He was to be seen among groups of sympathizing
king's counsel, and assentating assistant-barristers, with his
forefinger and thumb brought into syllogistic conjunction,
demonstrating the utter absurdity of Alexander Dawson in
attempting a contest. A profound seriousness habitually per-
vades the countenance of Mr. Foster, who, accustomed to the
most abstruse meditations upon political economy, and con-
versant with the deepest mysteries of legislation, has seldom

* The Earl of Roden (who sits in the House of Lords as Baron Clanbrassill,
in the peerage of the United Kingdom), is now, in 1854, in his sixty-sixth year.
He was long notorious for his connection with the Orange faction, and has
taken great interest in all attempts at changing Irish Catholics (when food is
scarce) into nominal converts. When the potato crop turns out favorahly, the
" reformed" lapse into their ancient faith. It was believed that Lord Roden's
great test of a " renewed spirit" was the partaking of meat, on a Friday — hence
they were called " leg-of-mutton converts." However misplaced his political
and polemical zeal, Lord Roden is a good landlord. He has a pension of
twenty-seven hundred 'pounds sterling, for the aboMshed office of Auditor-Gener-
al in Ireland. — His eldest son, Viscount Jocelyn, bom in 1816, was military sec-
retary to the Chinese Expedition, and is author of " Six Months in China."
He afterward held office under Sir Robert Peel (from February, 1845, to July,
1846), as one of the Secretaries of the India Board. He is a moderate conser-
vative, and a well-informed, unpresuming man. His wife, one of the hand-
somest women in the Court of Victoi'ia (she is daughter of Lady Palmerston,
by her first marriage) is a Lady of the Bedchamber to the Queen. — Viscount
Jocelyn has a seat in the House of Commons, as member for Lynn Regis, in
the county of Norfolk, for which borough he was first elected in 1842. — M.

238 JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.

been known to use the risible organs for the purposes for
which they were originally intended. The notion of a contest
in Louth, however, seemed to strike him as so exceedingly
ludicrous and extravagant, that upon this occasion he broke
through all the rules of solemnity by which his physiognomy
is usually controlled. Still, he had left off laughing for such
a length of time, that his smile sat uneasily and unnaturally
upon him, and the muscles of merriment had become so rusty
and so destitute of pliability, that they accommodated them
selves slowly and ponderously to their functions; and many
of his friends, observing these novel phenomena of mirth, ex
claimed, " What can be the matter with Leslie Foster !" He,
however, made ample compensation for this sudden and un-
meet deviation from his habitual gravity, by the seriousness
of his aspect, upon his appearance at the hustings of Dundalk.
I proceeded there before the arrival of Mr. Foster.

From the brow of a hill which surmounts the town, when
I was at a short distance from it, I saw a vast multitude
descending with banners of green unfurled to the wind, and
shouting as they moved along. I could not at first discern
with distinctness the gentleman who was the immediate object
of this wild ovation; but, on approaching and mixing with the
dense mass of enthusiastic patriots myself, I saw, seated in an
old gig, Mr. Alexander Dawson, the aspiring candidate who
had presumed to enter the lists with the hereditary representa-
tives of the County of Louth. He wore an old frock-coat cov
ered with dust, and a broad-brimmed, weather-beaten hat,
which surmounted a head that streamed with profuse perspira-
tion ; his face was ruddy with heat, but, notwithstanding the
excitement of the scene, preserved its habitual character of
sagacious quietism and tranquil intelligence. He did not seem
to be (though placed in a most extraordinary and trying situa-
tion) at all conscious of the boldness of the enterprise in which
he was embarked, and was perhaps the least moved of the
multitude that were rushing rapidly on ; while the people
were hurraing about him, throwing their hats into the air, and
catching them with a wild shriek and prance (a common de-
notement of joy among the lower Irish), he sat composedly in

IXttJTH ELECTION. 239

his old vehicle, and was busy in preserving order and regu-
larity in the procession. There were some three or four rag-
ged fiddlers before him, who played with all their might, and
in notes of the harshest discord, a tune which they intended for
the popular air of " Nancy Dawson," and which they selected
for no other reason than that it was connected with his name.
It was only at intervals that the hard and vigorous scraping
of these village violins was distinctly audible; for the cries
of "Down with Foster!" and "Dawson for ever!" resounded
from every side in yells of vehement uproar, and monopolized
the hearing faculties. A wonderful enthusiasm prevailed
through this vast gathering; and in the faces of the fierce and
athletic peasants who drew their favorite on, as they occasion-
ally turned their heads back to look on him, and shouted in
the retrospect, the strongest passions of mingled joy, ferocity,
and determination, were expressed.

In a few minutes Mr. Dawson and his gig were drawn into
the main street of Dundalk, and stopped at Magrath's hotel,
which was the rendezvous of patriotism during the election.
There the committee, which had been hastily gotten up, was
collected, and welcomed Mr. Dawson on his arrival. He de-
scended amid loud acclamations, and soon after appeared at a
window in the tavern, whence he addressed the people. Sev-
eral thousands were assembled, and in an instant deep silence
was obtained. In a plain, brief, perfectly simple, and intelli-
gible speech, Mr. Dawson told them that for their sake, and
not to gratify his personal ambition, he was determined to
oppose Mr. Foster and Mr. Fortescue, and to break the Oriel
and the Roden yoke. His speech was received with the most
rapturous plaudits, and it was manifest that, whatever might
be the issue, a spirit had arisen among the people which por-
tended far more than could have been originally calculated.
While Mr. Dawson and others of the same party were addres-
sing the people, the carriages of the leading gentry, drawn
by four horses, were seen entering the town, but, in order to
avoid th$ multitude, wheeled round through a street parallel
to that in the opening of which the people were gathered.
Astonishment and apprehension were visible in their faces.

240 JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.

They perceived already that a dreadful struggle was about to
take place.

The wonted harangues having been delivered to the people,
Mr. Dawson and his committee proceeded to the Court-house,
which occupies one side of a square in the centre of the town.
This building presents in its exterior a very beautiful object.
It was erected under the immediate superintendence of Mr.
Foster, who furnished the design, which he took from the
Temple of Theseus ; for Mr. Foster values himself upon a uni-
versality of acquisition, and is a sort of walking encyclopedia,
or peripatetic repertory of all the arts and sciences, and is as
profoundly skilled in architecture as he is. in any of the crafts
of the Custom-House or the mysteries of the Excise. Opening
Stuart's Athens, he lighted on the Temple of Theseus, and
selected it as a model for a Court-house at Dundalk; and,
accordingly, the most beautiful and inconvenient temple in
which the rites of justice have ever been performed has been
produced under his architectural auspices.

In that part of this incongruous edifice which is allocated to
the County business, the High-Sheriff assembled the free-
holders to read the writ. On his left hand stood Mr. Leslie
Foster. How changed from him who had, a few hours before,
derided as impotent the efforts of the Roman Catholic body to
push him from his stool in the legislature ! His complexion is
naturally pale, but it now became deadly-white. He surveyed
the dense mass of the people with awe, and seemed to recoil
from the groans and {footings with which he was clamorously
assailed. When proposed as a candidate, he delivered a
speech, in which he clumsily sought to reconcile his auditors
to his resistance of their claims, and appeared to be aware of
the wretchedness of the task which he had imposed upon him-
self. The only relief which he received was derived from the
execration which the mention of Lord Roden and his party
produced in the assembly; for, obnoxious as that nobleman is
through the rest of Ireland, his fanaticism and narrow-heart^
ness have secured for him a more condensed and concentrated
odium in the town of Dundalk. Mr. Dawson spoke with equal
brevity and perspicuity, and made it his boast that he bp-

LOUTH ELECTION. 241

longed to the middle classes, and was best calculated to repre-
sent their feelings and to do justice to their interests.

On the succeeding day the polling commenced with activity,
Mr. Fortescue being sustained by the Roden influence and a
large portion of the Protestant aristocracy; the rest of that
body were the supporters of Mr. Foster; while Mr. Dawson
relied upon a few Roman Catholics of fortune, and on the spirit
of agrarian insurrection, which had broken out among the
forty-shilling freeholders. For the first few days, Mr. Foster
and Mr. Fortescue acted in conjunction, because they calcu-
lated that they should be able to throw Mr. Dawson out; but,
after some demonstration of the power of the people, the agent
for Mr. Fortescue (Mr. Johnson) broke off the coalition, and
the three candidates rested upon their individual resources.

In this state of things, Mr. Sheil, who was counsel for Mr.
Dawson, applied to Mr. Johnson, as agent for Mr. Fortescue,
and offered to give him a certain number of votes, upon con-
dition that Mr. Fortescue should co-operate with the popular
party in throwing Mr. Foster out; but Mr. Johnson, confident
at the time that Lord Roden's interest was paramount, declined
to accede to a proposition which it is probable his employer
would have regarded as unworthy of him. Mr. Fortescue was,
however, outwitted by Leslie Fpster; for the coalition of the
first days threw so many additional votes into the scale, as
enabled him, ultimately, though only by a very small major-
ity, to defeat his incautious and unskilful auxiliary.

Some time elapsed before any decided demonstrations of
superiority took place ; and the exertions of all parties were
prodigious. Emissaries were despatched night and day
through every part of the county, and no means of persuasion
were spared by the Catholic, or of terror by the Protestant
faction, to bring the freeholders in. Priests and attorneys
were seen scouring the country in all directions, and landlords
and drivers, armed with warrants of distress, knocked at the
door of every hovel. The spirit of exertion which animated
the contending parties extended itself to the counsel, and Mr.
North (the brother-in-law of Mr. Foster), Mr. Murray, who
was employed by Mr. Fortescue, and Mr. Sheil, who acted for

v..., II—

2-JL2 JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.

Mr. Dawson, hi the High Sheriff's booth, exhibited a zeal and
alacrity which a mere professional sympathy with their clients
could scarcely have supplied.

The Sheriff's booth was in a smalfrroom adjoining the Coun-
ty-court, and offered, through the iron bars of its single win-
dow on the ground-floor, a dismal spectacle. A wall, at the
distance of about four feet from this window, rises to a consid-
erable height, and forms a small quadrangular space, covered
with rank grass and broken stones, in which the murderers at
Wildgoose Lodge are buried. In intervals of leisure, the eyes
of the persons, whose business it was to remain in this room,
would involuntarily rest upon this spot, and the conversation
turned from the subject of the election to the terrible atrocity
of which that dreary piece of ground was the memorial. The
meditations which it supplied were, however, of brief duration,
for a question connected with a vote would arise to dissolve
them.

As the election proceeded, the anxieties of Mr. Foster aug-
mented. He seemed to lose all command and self-possession.
He would rush into the Sheriff's booth with a precipitate
vehemence, which was'the more remarkable from the contrast
which it formed with his usual systematic and well-ordered be-
havior. " Soldiers !" he would cry, " soldiers, Mr. High-Sher-
iff! I call upon you to bring out troops, to protect me and
my supporters. My life is in peril — my brother has just been
assailed — we shall be massacred, if you persevere in exclu-
ding troops from the town !" Such were the exclamations he
would utter, under the influence of mingled anger and alarm ;
for I believe that his fears, though utterly unfounded, were
sincere. To these appeals the friends of Mr. Dawson would
oppose equally vehement adjurations. " What ! call out troops !
bayonet the people ! No, Mr. Foster; the scenes of 1798 are
not returned ; the Sheriff \yill not be deluded by the phantoms
which issue from your over-excited imagination, or accede to
your sanguinary invocations."

The High-Sheriff was placed in a very embarrassing condi-
tion in the midst of this uproar of remonstrance. It was said
that his leanings were personally favorable to Mr. Foster j but

LOtJTk ELECTION.

he is a brewer of the famous Castlebellingham ale, and the in-
terests of his brewery being at variance with his political pre-
dilections (if he have any), he was kept in a state of painful
hesitation, until Mr. Chaigneau, who acted with the utmost
impartiality as Assessor, resolved his difficulties, by very prop-
erly stating, that when evidence of danger should be laid be-
fore the Sheriff upon oath, he would act upon it. The town
remained perfectly peaceable. There were, indeed, loud cries .
and vehement shoutings, but no personal molestation was of-
fered to anybody. A perpetual procession of fiddlers and fife-
players moved through the streets, who played no other air
than "Nancy Dawson" from morning until twelve at night.

At the head of this body of everlasting minstrels were two
singular persons, who carried large banners of green silk, with
national emblems and mottoes figured upon them. One of these
strange individuals was a doctor — a large, bloated, plethoric
mass of a man, dressed in old rusty black, covered with snuff,
with a protuberant belly, and a short, waddling gait, which a/{ j
quantity of matutinal potations had rendered exceedingly un-\V/^-
steady ; while his countenance, composed of large blotches
of orbicular red. with a pair of large glazed eyes, surmounted
by white shaggy eyebrows, confirmed the conjectures which
the irregularity of his movements suggested. The doctor car-
ried the Dawson standard, having two or three stout fellows
to co-operate in his sustairiment. When he arrived at the
end of the street, in turning round to direct the procession, of
which he was the chief leader, the doctor would utter a loud
but inarticulate shout, and return toward the courthouse; and
when he had arrived there, he would again wheel about at
the head of the multitude with a similar hurrah. Thus, he
traversed, from morning till sunset, the principal street of the
town, taking a glass of Irish restorative at brief intervals in
these strange perambulations.

Next in command to the doctor was old Harry Mills, whose
fame has since travelled across the- Atlantic, and who has not
only had his health drunk in America, but has received a sub-
scription of twenty pounds from the New World. This peas-
ant was among the most conspicuous figures at the Louth elec*

244 JOHN LESLIK

tion. He had about four acres of land, for which he paid a
high rent to his landlord; and although he completely depend-
ed on him, this "village Hampden," as he was called, with-
stood the petty despotism of Mr. Woulfe M'Neil, and voted in
despite of him for Mr. Dawson. Harry Mills had gone through
many a wild adventure. He had been concerned in the affair
of 1798, and was obliged to fly the country ; but, as he said
himself, he had the consolation of seeing an Orangeman's
house on fire upon the shore, as he was sailing in a fishing-
boat from the port of Dundalk. " Please your honor," Harry
used to say, " as I was leaving ould Ireland, I saw the flames
blazing out of the Cromwellian's house ; and many a time,
when I was keeping watch on the coast of Guinea, I used to
think of that same fire." Harry was obliged to turn seaman,
and became a sailor in a slave-ship. He was taken by a
French privateer j and I do not recollect exactly how he con-
trived, after years had passed, to get back to Ireland. His
spirit slumbered within him until the Louth election, and then
it broke forth, like the flame from the Orangeman's house,
which had ministered with its flashes to his retrospective con-
solations. With that ocean-look and attitude which belong to
all seafaring people, Harry blended the sly cunning and observ-
ant sagacity which characterize the Irish peasant, and offered,
to a lover of the moral picturesque, one of the most striking
objects at the Louth election. He marched, in company with
the doctor, as second standard-bearer to Mr. Dawson, and was
as unwearied as his brother patriot in this his new, and, if we
could judge from his shouts and exclamations, his delightful
vocation.

But in drawing the figures and detailing the incidents by
which Mr. Foster was surrounded, I allow him, perhaps, to
leave the foreground of the picture. As the election advanced,
his fears augmented, and he presented new phenomena of ter-
ror. His opponents felt a malevolent pleasure in watching the
torture which he was undergoing, and in observing the writhings
of the mind, which were apparent in his demeanor and coun-
tenance. But Alexander Dawson had in a few days ceased
to be the immediate object of his competition; for the latter

LOtTTfl: ELECTION.

having obtained a vast majority, liis return was no longer mat- ,
ter of speculation, and the fiercest contest was carried on be- vL
tween the Roden and the Oriel candidates, who had originally
entered in alliance into the field. Though they agreed in all
political opinions, they afforded proof of the promptitude with
which ah_sf.ra.f.i: ^np.pti^sjire___lost^in individual interests. The
Catholics had carried Mr. Dawson's election, and Mr. Foster
and his friends used all their efforts to induce them to remain
neutral ; observing that Mr. Foster (which was a, just remark)
was not personally obnoxious, that he was a good landlord, and
that Lord Roden's candidate was not only politically but fa-
natically opposed to them.

These arguments had their weight with the liberal party
although the more sagacious saw that it would be a consum-
mation of their' victory, if they could eject from the House of
Commons an individual who had contributed some talent and
a great deal of research and industry to the maintenance of his
party. Still, the antipathy to Lord Roden prevailed : and the
detestation in which his wild, lugubrious doctrines were held ;
the recollection of his having refused a small piece of ground
to erect a more commodious house of Catholic worship ; his
penurious piety ; his omission, with all his ostentatious Chris-
tianity, to subscribe to a single charitable institution at Dun-
dalk; and other circumstances of a similar character — made
the majority of the people rather inclined toward Leslie Foster
than to the candidate by which the Roden interest was rep-
resented. Mr. Fortescue had now abundant reason to regret
the fastidious spirit with which a tender of Catholic support
had been originally rejected.

Almost all the county had been polled out, and then, but
when it was too late, it was communicated to the Catholics,
but not through the ostensible agent of Mr. Fortescue, that
their assistance was necessary to throw Mr. Foster out. Had
this application been made the day before, the Catholics, who
were three hundred ahead of the Protestant candidates, might
have interfered with effect. Their committee refused to act;
but individuals took upon themselves to gather as many strag-
gling freeholders as could be collected. It is a rule that, after

LESLIE

a certain number of days, if twenty persons do not poll before
six o'clock, the booth where this deficiency takes place shall
close. Every booth, excepting one, was shut about four o'clock ;
and if the Roden party could contrive to poll twenty beforo
six, they would have been entitled to hold the booth open.
They calculated that on the next day they could bring in
enough of voters to obtain a majority, with the aid of such of
the Catholics as did not hate Lord Roden less, but dreaded
Leslie Foster more, and on that principle were doing their ut-
most to throw him out of Parliament. About four o'clock,
Leslie Foster had a majority of nine or ten, and I believe all
his votes were exhausted. Some twelve or thirteen persons
had polled in the booth in question ; and if Mr. Fortescue could
procure so many persons merely to poll, as would, with the
votes already given, make up twenty, his object would have
been secured. The issue of the contest, therefore, depended
upon minutes.

The booth presented a most singular scene. It was crowded
to excess, from the condensation of the public interests within
its narrow limits. Scarcely space enough was left for the ad-
mission of the voters; and, indeed, it was the object of the
Foster faction to retard and obstruct their arrival by every
possible expedient. In order to consume time, fellows .were
put up on Mr. Foster's tallies who had no votes ; and their re-
jection, and the clamor and confusion which it produced, served
to consume the hour, of which every instant was of value. Mr.
Fortescue's party still contrived to poll a few freeholders, who
were supplied by the Catholics ; and it was matter of great
doubt whether the important and decisive number " twenty"
could be produced. After five o'clock, the suspense of all par-
ties became increased, and every eye was alternately turned
to the spot where the freeholders were polled, and to the
watches which were held in the hands of the spectators, and
which indicated the progress of time to that point on which the
issue was to hang. I never saw a' deeper expression of solici-
tude. Mr. Fortescue himself was not there, as he was confined
by the gout; but his partisans showed an anxiety as great aa
if personally engaged by individual interest in the event.

ELECTION. f. .

The friends of Mr. Foster, who were gathered round the
Sheriff, manifested, if possible, a still greater intentness of ex-
pectation. George Pen tl and, who had been long solicitor to
the customhouse, of which Mr. Foster was, since 1818, the
counsel, acted as his agent, with an alacrity which inveterate
habits of professional sympathy had naturally produced. Many
reciprocal obligations had endeared the counsel and the attor-
ney to each other; and it would be difficult, perhaps, to adjust
the balance of gratitude, and to determine on which side the
golden scale ought to incline. Certain it is that Mr. Pentland
exhibited upon this occasion, for a gentleman who was alter-
nately his patron and his protege, the most ardent sympathy.
During the earlier period of the election, George had preserved
that spirit of coaxing good-humor, and of humbug urbanity,
which belongs to the good old school of Irish pensioners and
placemen. " Oh, my good friend," George used to say (laying
his customhouse gripe upon your shoulder, and refusing you a
permit to pass), "you little know Leslie Foster. Mind what I
say, and I have an eye in my head, Leslie will be found voting
for you yet — mind" — (and then he would let loose your shoul-
der, while he placed his forefinger on the tip of his nose, and
winked sagaciously at you) — "mind what I say — but I say
nothing — mum's the word !" But George laid aside all his
intimations, whether verbal, physiognomical, ocular, or nasal,
as the fatal hour of six drew on ; and with eyes glaring with
expectation, and his brows raised in Saxon arches on his fore-
head, he sat waiting the eventful instant. Near him stood Mr.
North, whose naturally sweet and placid countenance, without
exhibiting the fierceness of faction, assumed for a moment an
aspect of «icerbity, while his lips, that were as white as ashes,
trembled and quivered in the expression of the few words to
which he occasionally gave utterance.

But where was Leslie Foster all this time ? This question,
which the reader will probably ask, I put to myself; and, on
turning my eyes round, I was at first at a loss to discover him.
At length I observed a person sitting in a remote corner of the
room, upon a chair which was thrown back in such a way that
it was balanced on two legs, while the head of the somewhat

JOflN LESLIE FOSTEft.

round and squat gentleman by whom it was occupied leaned
against the wall. His hat was drawn over his brows, and his
eyes were closed. His cheeks, which seemed to have been
originally full and plentiful, appeared to have suffered a cadav-
erous collapse. Thick drops of perspiration trickled down his
visage, which he occasionally wiped away with an Orange
handkerchief held in his right hand ; while a watch, on which,
however, he did not look, was in the other. I did not at first
recognise this extraordinary figure; but upon a sudden it
started up, and on the opening of the eyes, and the full dis-
closure of the countenance, I thought I could perceive some
faint resemblance to Leslie Foster. He seemed, at first, to
stand in an attitude of cataleptic horror ; and when he recov-
ered himself, he clasped his hands, and, unable to sustain his
agony, rushed with a frantic speed out of the room. He had
given everything up for lost; but he was mistaken. The
twenty votes had not been made up. The clock struck six,
and John Leslie Foster was saved from being buried by torch-
light [as a suicide], under the new act of Parliament, in the
churchyard of Dundalk.

Mr. Dawson and Mr. Foster were returned as duly elected.
The latter did not attend at the hustings when the event of
the election was proclaimed. He set off for Cullen, the seat
of Lord Oriel, in that heaving and agitation of mind which the
stormy passions leave behind, after the immediate occasion of
their excitement has ceased to act. His flight was considered
as most inglorious, and it was boasted by the Catholic orators
that he did not dare to meet them. This was a great disap-
pointment to Mr. Sheil and other dealers in harangue, who ex-
pected to show off at his expense. He very wisely elected his
retreat to his uncle's (the late Lord Oriel's) residence, whose
octogenarian philosophy did not prevent him from feeling a
deep and corroding interest in the event. Had Mr. Foster
remained sequestered in the beautiful woods which the Speaker
of the Irish House of Commons lived to see rise about him,
he would have acted wisely.* But, after a short interval, the

* When the Union was passed, John Foster was Speaker of the House of
Commons. He was Mr. Leslie Foster's uncle, and was raised to the peeragor

COS* 0# CREATING A ££E&. £49

public were astonished by a resentful lucubration from liis fen,
in which he vilified the proceedings of the Catholics, and in-
veighed with great virulence against the priests. If ever he
stands for the county of Louth again, which is very improbable,
this document will be brought in judgment against him.

He was guilty of another indiscretion, or rather a piece of
bad taste, as it was far more deserving of laughter than of
condemnation. Having fled from Dundalk, where Mr. Daw-
son was chaired, he caused himself to be put through a similar

by the title of Lord Oriel. — I have so repeatedly had occasion to refer to the
creation of peers, that it may not be out of place to say something about the cost
(" surget amari aliquid"), which is considerable and is defrayed by the person
who receives the elevation, except when the dignity is conferred for public
services, when the amount is paid out of the sum granted by Parliament for
Civil Contingencies. In 1853, on the motion of Mr. Hume, who always de-
sires to know how the public money is expended, a Parliamentary return was
printed, of the persons to whom, and for what services, the sum of four hun-
dred and twenty pounds sterling, charged in the Civil Contingencies for 1852,
was paid, and the names of the several persons receiving the same for the pat-
ent creating General Lord Fitzroy' Somerset a baron of the United Kingdom.
He had been Military Secretary, for a long period, to the Duke of Wellington
when Commander-in-chief, and, on the Duke's death, in September, 1852, was
appointed Master-General of the Ordnance, and called to the Upper House as
Baron Raglan. It appears, by the official return, that, in the expenses of his
patent of nobility, the crown-office chai-ges amounted to £390, 15s. 4d. ; and
the authority for the same is stated " ancient usages." Of that sum, £150, 2s.
went to the Stamp-office; £104, 6s. IQd. to the royal household. Some of the
items are curious. The payment to the Lord Chancellor, Great Seal fee, is £2,
6s. 8d. ; the clerk of the Hanaper, has £24, 13s. 4d. ; the deputy, £l, Is. ; the
Lord-Chancellor's purse-bearer, has £5, 5s. ; the porter to the Great Seal,
£1, Is,: gentlemen to ditto, £6; sealer, £l, 2s. 6d. ; deputy ditto, 10s. 6d.
Chaffwax, £1, 2s. 2d. ; deputy ditto, 10s. 6d. ; principal Usher of Scotland,
£6, 13s. 6d.; Scotch heralds, £16; English ditto, £36 ; Earl-Marshal, £5 ;
Garter-King-at-Arms, £20 ; and the gold-emblazoned skin and boxes to hold
the patent and seal, cost £9. The Patent-office charges amounted to £29,
18s. Gd. By the Attorney-General, £20, for approving, settling, and signing
the Queen's warrant for Her Majesty's signature, according to " ancient usage."
By the clerk of the Patents, to the Attorney-General, £7, 7s. 6d., by ancient
usage, and £1, 10s. stamp duty on warrant.. By the engrossing clerk, £l,
It., for engrossing the warrant and for parchment. In this manner £420
was expended in the creation of a bai'on of the United Kingdom. The higher
the rank conferred, the heavier the charge?. It is understood that the cost of a
Puke's patent is nearly four thousand pounds sterling. — M.

11*

250 JOEttt LESLIE

honor in his uncle's demesne. All the vassals and retainer*
of Lord Oriel, who could be procured, were collected together,
and Mr. Foster having been placed upon the shoulders of four
stout Protestant tenants, was conveyed through the village of
Cullen, amid the plaudits of the yeomanry, the hurrahs of the
schoolmaster, the sexton, and the parish-clerk, and the accla-
mations of the police.

I have hitherto considered Mr. Foster as a candidate, and I
should give an equally minute account of him as a member of
Parliament, but that I have not had the same fortunate oppor-
tunities of observation. I do, indeed, remember an incident,
which may be considered, to a certain extent, illustrative of
his influence as a legislative speaker; and, in the lack of any
other means of describing him, it may not be inappropriate to
set it down.

I was under the gallery of the House of Commons during
the debate on the Catholic question, in the year 1825. The
House was exceedingly full. Mr. Foster rose to speak, and
the effect of his appearance on his legs was truly wonderful.
In an instant the House was cleared. The rush to the door
leading to the tavern up stairs, where the members find a refuge
from the soporific powers of their brother-legislators, was tre-
mendous. I was myself swept away by the torrent, and car-
ried from my place by the crowd, that fled from the solemn
adjuration with which Mr. Foster commenced his oration. The
single phrase "Mr. Speaker" was indeed uttered with such a
tone as indicated the extent of the impending evil; and find-
ing already the influence of drowsiness upon me, I followed
the example which was given by the representatives of the
people, who, whatever differences may have existed among
them upon the mode of settling Ireland, appeared to coincide
in their estimate of Mr. Foster's elocution. From the Treasury
benches, the opposition and the neutral quarters of the House,
a simultaneous concourse hurried up to Bellamy's, and left Mr.
Foster in full possession of that solitude which he had -thus
instantaneously and miraculously produced.

I proceeded up stairs with some hundreds of honorable gen-
tlemen. The scene which Bellamy's presents to a stranger is

MOBILITY IN "THE COMMONS." 25i

striking enough. Two smart girls, whose briskness and neat
attire made up for their want of beauty, and for the invasions
of time, of which their cheeks showed the traces, helped out
tea in a room in the corridor. It was pleasant to observe the
sons of Dukes and Marquises,* and the possessors of twenties
and thirties of thousands a year, gathered round these dam-
sels, and soliciting a cup of that beverage which it was their
office to administer. These Bellamy bar-maids seemed so fa-
miliarized with their occupation, that they went through it with

* The sons of the nobility are eligible to sit in the House of Commons,
though it is an anomaly for persons belonging to the Aristocracy, by feeling
and interest, as well as by birth, to be nominal representatives of the People.
Irish peers may also be members of the House of Commons — but not for an
Irish county or borough. Thus Earl Annesley represents Great Grimsby, in
Lincolnshire, and Viscount Palmerston is member for Tivcrton, in Devonshire.
The eldest sons of Dukes, Marquises, and Earls, bear, by courtesy, the second
titles of their fathers. Thus the Duke of Leinster's eldest son is called Mar
quis of Kildare : the Marquis of Westminster's is Earl of Grosveuor: the Earl
of Lir.hfield's is Viscount Anson. In some few cases, the holder of a peerage
has not also i-eceived the rank immediately below his own. Thus, the Duke
of Manchester's second title is only Viscount Mandeville. The issue of ji tiior
children of Dukes, Marquises, and Earls, have respectively the title of " Lord"
or "Lady" prefixed to their name — so we have Lord John Russell, Lady
Blanche Gower. The eldest son of a Viscount or a Baron is plainly " The
Honorable" — thus, Viscount Strangford's eldest son is " The Honorable George
Smythe," and his brothers and sisters would be entitled to the same prefix,
which is confined only to the nobility — not even a Baronet being entitled to it.
A member of Parliament, spoken of in Parliament as " the honorable membci
for so-and-so," has no distinctive appellation out of it. Therefore we h>ive
plain Mr. Cobden ; but when a man is a Privy Councillor, he has a permanent "
title — such as "The Right Honorable Benjamin Disraeli." Every peer is
"right honorable." Courtesy titles are not recognised by law. Thus, if the
lato Duke of Wellington's eldest son, or the Duke of Bedford's brother were to
be named in the London Gazette, as having obtained any appointment, the
description would be "the honorable Arthur Wellesley, commonly called Mar-
quis of Douro," or " the honorable John Russell, commonly called Lord John
Russell." — The House of Commons consists of 658 members, and I find, on
carefully going over the list, that 228 of these belong to the nobility by birth or
marriage. That is, more than one third of the, representatives of the Commons
of the United Kingdom actually are members of the Aristocracy, the natural op-
ponents of popular privileges and rights. The eventual remedy will be, to
effect a reform by which peers' sons shall be disqualified from sitting in 'J)fl
Qpir-inons House of Parliament. — ^J,

252 JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.

perfect nonchalance, and would occasionally turn with petu-
lance, in which they asserted the superiority of their sex to
rank and opulence, from the noble or wealthy suitors for a
draught of tea, by whom they were surrounded. The unfortu-
nate Irish members were treated with a peculiar disdain, and
were reminded of their provinciality by the look of these Par-
liamentary Hebes, who treated them as mere colonial deputies
should be received in the purlieus of the state.

I passed from these ante-chambers to the tavern, where I
found a number of members assembled at dinner. Half an
hour had passed away,, toothpicks and claret were now begin-
ning to appear, and the business of mastication being con-
cluded, that of digestion had commenced, and many an honor-
able gentleman, I observed, who seemed to prove that he was
born only to digest. At the end of a long corridor, which
opened from the room where the diners were assembled, there
stood a waiter whose office it was to inform any interrogator
what gentleman was speaking below stairs. Nearly opposite
the door sat two English county members. They had disposed
of a bottle each, and, just as the last glass was emptied, one of
them called out to the annunciator at the end of the passage
for intelligence. " Mr. Foster on his legs !" was the formida-
ble answer. " Waiter, bring another bottle !" was the imme-
diate effect of this information, which was followed by a simi-
lar injunction from every table in the room. I perceived that
Mr. Bellamy owed great obligations to Mr. Foster. But the
latter did not limit himself to a second bottle; again and again
the same question was asked, and again the same announce-
ment returned — "Mr. Foster upon his legs!" The answer
seemed to fasten men in inseparable adhesiveness to their seats
Thus two hours wTent by — when, at length, "Mr. Plunket on
his legs," was heard from the end of the passage, and the whole
convocation of compotators rose together and returned to the
House.

Some estimate of the eloquence of Mr. Foster may be formed
from this evidence of its effects. I am unable myself to supply,
from personal observation, any better detail of it. But it is
£pf necessary : Mr. Plunket, in a single phrase, has described

HIS OPIATE ORATOET. 253

liis legislative faculties, and on the night of which I have been
speaking remarked that "he had turned history into an old
almanac." I should not omit to mention, in justice to Mr. Fos-
ter, that in converting the annals of mankind to this valuable
purpose, he exhibits a wonderful diligence. His speeches are
the result of great industry, and he takes care not to deliver
himself of any crude, abortive notions, such as are thrown off
in extempore debate; but, after allowing his meditations to
mature in a due process of conception in his mind, brings them
forth with a laborious effort, and presents his intellectual off-
spring to the House in the " swaddling" phraseology in which
they are always carefully wrapped up.

It was, indeed, at one time believed and studiously propa-
gated by his friends, that he did not prepare his orations, and
that he poured out his useless erudition, and his mystical dog-
mas, without premeditation or research. That erroneous con-
jecture has been recently corrected ; for, upon a late occasion,
when the Chaplain of the House of Commons was reading
prayers, at four o'clock, Mr. Foster, who appeared to those at
a distance to be kneeling in a posture of profound Parliament-
ary piety, with his hands raised, as is the fashion with the
devout, to his lips, was heard to mutter through his fingers :
"Had it been my good fortune, Mr. Speaker, to have caught
your eye at an earlier period of the debate, I should have gone
more at length, than I now, at this late hour of the night, in-
tend to do, into the details of a question, upon which the integ-
rity of the constitution, the sacred privileges of the Protestants
of Ireland, and the purity of the reformed religion, entirely
depend." Mr. Richard Martin, the then member for Conna-
mara, who happened to hear Mr. Foster, communicated this
important discovery; and it is now well ascertained that
Mr. Foster takes exceedingly great if not very meritorious
pains at his oratorical laboratory, and passes many a mid
night vigil in compounding those opiates with which, at the
expense of his own slumbers, he lulls- the House of Commons
to repose.

Mr. Foster may be considered in the various phases of bar-
rister, scholar, commissioner of education, and counsel to t%

254: JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.

commissioners of customs and excise.* As a member of the
bar, lie is not very remarkable. He is not in considerable
business, which I am inclined to attribute to bis dedication of
himself to political pursuits ; for he came to the profession un-
der great advantages, having industry, a tenacious memory,
and the patronage of the late Chief-Justice Downes. I think
that he would have succeeded in the Court of Chancery, had
he attended exclusively to the bar; for certainly he is not des-
titute of the powers of clear reasoning and perspicuous exposi-
tion. His great fault is, that he diffuses an air of importance
over all that he says, looks, and does, which is not unfrequently
in ludicrous contrast with the matter before him. Instead of
speaking trippingly upon the tongue, he loads his utterance

* John Leslie Foster was grandson of Chfef Baron Foster, son of Dr. Foster,
Bishop of Clogher (who died in 1787), and nephew to John Foster, Speaker
of the Irish House of Commons, who was raised to the peerage as Lord Oriel.
Without doubt, Mr. Leslie Foster took double pains to become a lawyer, for
though called to the Irish bar in 1803, he had previously been admitted, by
the Society of Lincoln's Inn, in London, to the English bar also. In 1804, he
published a hook " On the Principles of Commercial Exchanges." He waa
industrious, besides being connected with the nobility by relationship and mar-
riage, and got on in his profession. He was successively appointed Commis-
sioner of Education (salary twelve hundred pounds sterling a year) and counsel
to the Commissioners of Customs and Excise — the average annual income of
which, from 1818, when he entered into the office, until 1828 (when he re-
ceived as " compensation," two thousand pounds sterling for life) was three
thousand seven hundred and thirty pounds sterling. Therefore these two ap-
pointments, the duties of which were neither onerous nor troublesome, gave
him about five thousand pounds sterling a year, besides the collateral business
coming to him, from the position he had thus obtained ; whatever other phe-
nomenon marked his birth, Leslie Foster did not come into the world with a
wooden spoon in his mouth. His politics were intensely Tory, and recommen-
ded him to Trinity College, Dublin, as a" marvellous proper man" to represent
its intolerance in Parliament. His maiden speech was delivered in April, 1812,
in opposition to Grattan's motion against the Penal Laws, and he published it in
a pamphlet. In Parliament, from first to last, he was consistent — in resisting
liberal measures, no matter by whom introduced. In July, 1830, the Duke of
Wellington made him one of the Barons of the Court of Exchequer in Ireland.
He was a laborious judge, and little more can be said of him in that capacity.
In 1842, he was transferred to the Court of Common P'leas. He went the
summer Assize, in 1842, and dined, apparently in good health, with the Sheriff
and Magistrates at Cavan, but was suddenly taken ill, had time to execute a
to his will, and expired, July 10, 1842. H" lied immensely rich. — M

MARQUIS OF ANGLESEY. 255

with an immense weight of intonation, and is not more ponder-
ous and oracular in Parliament than at the bar. That gravity,
which Rochefoucauld has so well called " a mystery of the
body, "pervades his gesture, and sits. in eternal repose upon his
countenance. He advances to his seat, at the inner bar, like
a priest walking in a procession ; he lays down his bag upon
the green table as if he were depositing a treasure; he bows
to the court like a mandarin before the Emperor of China ;
quotes Tidd's Practice as a Rabbi would read the Talmud ;
and opens the " Rules and Orders" as a sorcerer would unclasp
a book of incantation.

The solemnity which distinguishes him in Court, attends
him out of it. He traverses the Hall with a gait and aspect
of mystical meditation; and when he has divested himself of
his forensic habiliments, still takes care to retain his walk of
egregious dignity upon his return to Merrion-square. Mr. Fos-
ter has ascertained, with exact precision, the distance from his
house to the Hall of the Four Courts ; and has counted the
number of paces which it is requisite that he should perform,
whether he should go through College Green or by any of the
lanes at the back of Dublin Castle. Both these ways^have
their attractions. In the centre of College Green stands the
statue of King William, on which Mr. Foster sometimes pauses
to cast a look, in which, of late, some melancholy has been
observed. The purlieus of the Castle are, however, his more
favorite, and perhaps appropriate walks, especially since the
order for Lord Anglesey's removal has arrived.* But, which-

* The Marquis of Anglesey, who was born in 1768, was eldest son of the
late Earl of Uxbridge, and, after studying at Oxford, was appointed, in 1793,
when Lord Paget, to the command of a regiment he had raised among his
father's tenantry. He served with this corps, under the Duke of York, in
Flanders, and again in the expedition to Holland, in 1799. He had risen to
the rank of Major-General when he joined Sir John Moore's army in the Penin-
sula, and assisted in the retreat of Corunna, and the battle there, January 16,
1809, where Moore was killed. He was married, in 1795, to a daughter of
the Earl of Jersey, by whom he had eight children, but, soon after -his return
from Portugal figured as defendant in a crim. con. suit, in which the plaintiff
was Mr. Henry Wellesley (brother to " The Duke," and created Lord Cowley,
in 3828), who obtained twenty thousand pounds sterling, damages. The re-
sult was a double divorce ; Lady Pagct from him (she afterward married th«

256 JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.

ever route lie adopts, he never deviates from that evenness
and regularity of gait with which he originally enumerated
the number of paces from his residence to the Hall.

I was a good deal at a loss to account for this peculiar demea-
nor, until I had heard that Mr. Foster had spent some time
at Constantinople. He was introduced, upon one occasion,
to the Grand Seignior (a scene which he describes with great
particularity), and has ever since retained an expression of
dignity, which it is supposed he copied from the lleis Effendi,

late Duke of Argyll), and Mr. Wellesley from his guilty wife, nee Lady Char-
lotte Cadogan. Lord Paget married the frail fair, in 1810, and they had a
large family ; two of their sons are members of the British House of Commong
now [1854]. — The trial and its revelations, gave much unenviable notoriety to
Lord Paget. He was alluded to by Byron, in the line,

" And, worse of all, a Paget for your wife.

and Moore (albeit Little of a moralist), thus had his fling in a didactic poem.

called " The Skeptic, a philosophical satire :'' —

" Paget, who sees, upon his pillow laid,
A face for which ten thousand pounds were paid,
Can tell how quick, before a jury, flies
The spell that mocked the warm seducer's eyes."

Many years subsequently, when he had become viceroy, the Irish ladies
declined visiting his wife, and having caused the arrest of O'Connell, on a
charge of seditious language, the orator, in another speech, said, " He has
caused my wife to weep. Does he know the value of a virtuous woman's tear?"
— In 1812, Lord Paget succeeded his father, as Earl of Uxbridge. He had a
cavalry command at Waterloo, and having there lost a leg, was created Marquis
of Anglesey. In 1820, he voted for the bill of pains and penalties against Queen
Caroline. In February, 1828, " The Duke,"' who had just became Premier, sent
him to Ireland, as Viceroy, and his conduct there was generally impartial. But
in December, 1828, having received a letter from Dr. Curtis (the Catholic Pri-
mate), which the Duke of Wellington had written to him, suggesting that the
Catholic claims be " buried in oblivion" for a time, Lord Anglesey wrote back
an epistle, which was published, recommending the continued agitation of the
question. This gave great offence to George IV., who had become tired of
eteinal discussions on Catholic wrongs, and the writer was recalled. Two
months after, the final settlement of the question was recommended in
the King's Speech, at the commencement of the Parliamentary Session. Soon
after, he was again made Viceroy of Ireland, and so continued until September,
1833. But his latter reign was not popular. He has held other high offices,
connected with the army, and is the senior Field Marshal in the British army.
8'e is now (January, 1854) in his eighty-sixth year. — M.

HIS PECULIAR ERUDITION. ' 257

if not from the Sultan himself. Hitherto the negotiations with
the Porte have been unsuccessful. If Mr. Foster were sent
out as our minister, such a sympathetic solemnity would take
place between him and the Grand Vizier, that many difficul-
ties would, it is likely, be got rid of ; and he would, by his
Asiatic diplomacy of countenance and his Oriental gravity of
look, accomplish far more than .Lord Strangford* was able
to effect.

As a scholar, Mr. Leslie Foster is, beyond all doubt, a per-
son of very various and minute erudition. In every drawing-
room and at every dinner-table at which he appears, amaze-
ment is produced by the vastness of his knowledge ; and under-
graduates from the College, and young ladies whose stockings
are but darned with blue silk, wonder that even a head of
such great diameter should be capable of containing such
enormous masses of the most recondite and diversified lore.t
The President of the Royal Academy of Laputa, or the father
of Martinus Scriblerus, could not have, surpassed him in the
character, the extent, and the application of his knowledge.
No matter what topics may be presented in the trivialities of
discourse, he avails himself of every opportunity to evacuate
his erudition. He buries every petty subject under the enor-
mity of his learning, and piles a mountain on every- pigmy
theme. If he finds a boy whipping a top, he stops to explain
the principles upon which it is put into motion. He is versed
in all points of science connected with the playing of marbles.
Should a pair of bellows fall in his way, he enters into a dis-

* Vigcount Strangford, in the Irish, and Baron Penshurst, in the British peer-
age, distinguished himself nearly half a century ago, as the translator of Camoens,
the Portuguese poet. For this, he was duly niched and pedestaled by Byron,
in " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers." He was born in 1780, and is yet
alive [1854]: he has been Ambassador to Turkey, Russia, &c. — His son, Mr.
Smythe, formerly M. P. for Canterbury, has written some pretty verses, is a
good speaker, and, when in Parliament, was a leader of the Young England
party. — M.

t If the quantity of brains be estimated by the size of the skull, Mr. Leslie
Foster ought to have been a very clever man. His head was large, out of all
proportion, and had a curious oscillating motion, more peculiar than graceful
— something like the vibration of a Chinese Mandarin's image in a grocer's
window. — M.

258 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEB.

sertation upon the structure of the human lungs; and applies
to those domestic conveniences of which there is such a want
in the modern Athens, his learning in hydraulics.* In short,

* Such another "Admirable Crichton" as this, was to be found, a few years
ago, in the person of the late Egerton Smith, for many years editor of The
Liverpool Mercury, in England. He commenced life a* a spectacle-maker, but
had small skill in that craft, and took to the press. He sprinkled his articles
with Greek and Latin sentences, rarely applicable to the subject, and apparently
taken, at hap-hazard from some Dictionary of Quotations. In a previous work
of mine, his character is sketched in full, and I take leave to reproduce it here.
— " He bore the rather uncommon patronymic of SMITH. In his newspaper
he was chiefly distinguished by reason of the number of hobbies which he rode.
His original occupation of optician gave him a certain mechanical facility in
making toys — puzzles for the curious and the idle. Asserting that he was one
of the best swimmers in the world, his delight was to exhibit himself in the
Mersey, floundering like a porpoise, and confident that the feats of Leander
and Byron were trifling in comparison with his own. Avowing the most phil-
anthropic motives, he invented cork -jackets to prevent death by drowning, and
— sold them at a large profit. He contended that the boomerang of New South
Wales was a weapon worthy of being universally adopted in European warfare,
aud spent a whole summer in throwing this projectile into the air, to ascertain
its force, and perfect his own skill. But the triumph of his experiments and
discoveries in science, and that on which he chiefly prided himself, was to
show that a top (such as children of a lesser growth are accustomed to whip,
in play), might be kept spinning for half an hour upon a china plate. During
a series of years, he kept this subject before the public, in his newspaper, de-
voting columns to its elucidations, and adorning them with diagrams and wood
cuts, showing the course of the spinning top, with portraits of that new instru-
ment of science. In his newspaper, also, were given views of the cork-jackets,
and sketches of the boomerang. There, too, were occasionally exhibited sketch-
es of himself in the Mersey — floating, swimming, or trying to perform some
such notable aquatic feat. For a long series of years — certainly exceeding
thirty — half a column a week was dedicated, by this illustrious obscure, to
himself, his notions, and his hobbies. So stimigly did he exhibit the spirit of
egotism in these articles, that it was frequently remarked, that his biography
might easily be compiled from the personal references to himself and his move-
ments in the " Notices to Correspondents." On one occasion he announced,
that having charitably lent an old umbrella to a strange lady, in a shower ol
rain, she actually had the dishonesty not to return it, and during many succes-
sive weeks, he poured out lamentations on his loss, describing the aspect of
the article, the attire of the non-returning borrower, and amusing the public
with his griefs over the missing umbrella,

" ' Like the lost Pleiad, seen no more below.'

Nor wore his personal confidences limited to his newspaper. Thence they
were transferred to a cheap litei'ary weakling which he also published, and

BOT SMITH. 259

lie Is omniscient; and if I were a believer in the transmigra-
tion of souls, I should be disposed to think that the spirit of
the. professor at Bruges, who challenged all mankind to dis-
pute with him " de omni scibili et de quolibet ente," had reap-
peared in his person ; though I hope that he would be lees
puzzled in solving the question of la\v proposed by Sir Thomas
More to that celebrated scholar respecting a replevin.*

finally found a resting- place in a monthly octavo composed of the picked mat
tor of his newspaper and periodical. Meddling with Cobbett, in an attempt
at political discussion, he incurred the anger of that nervous writer, who forth-
with registered him as ' Bot Smith,' by which appellation, constantly repeated
hy him of the Gridiron, he eventually became so well known, in and out of
Liverpool, that it was taken to be his true name, and letters were frequently so
addressed to him. In a word, his case affords a striking example of the veiy
small degree of intelligence sufficient to establish a local reputation as a ' triton
of the minnows.' In a metropolis such a person would have speedily found
his level, beneath the feet of real merit. When he died, about the year 1841,
his townsmen gave him the honor of a public funeral, and I have heard that
they placed his statue in their Mechanics' Institute! As the palette of Wilkie
was let into the pedestal of his statue in the National Gallery, in London, a
spinning-top and china-plate should have been introduced into the Smith statue
at Liverpool. When the Pickwick Papers introduced the clever and striking full-
length of Mr. Pott, Editor of the Eatanswill Gazette, many persons in Liver-
pool fancied that independent of the name being suggestive of the soubriquet
bestowed on him by Cobbett, the original could have been no other than their
own philosopher of the spinning-top. The appearance — 'a tall, thin man,
with a sandy-colored head inclined to baldness, and a face in which solemn
importance was blended, with a look of unfathomable profundity;' the invari-
able attire — 'a long brown surtout, with a black cloth waistcoat, and drab
trousers;' the constant reference in conversation, to articles which he had
written in his newspaper on local politics, the interest of which, trifling at any
time, had long since passed away; the ruling idea, that throughout the coun-
try in general, and in London in particular, there was an intense excitement
caused by whatever he wrote ; the constant and uncourteous abuse of all oppo-
sing journalists ; and, to crown all, the triumphant boast that his critic had
written on Chinese Metaphysics by reading in the Encyclopedia under C foi
China, and under M for Metaphysics, and 'had combined his information,' —
if all these coincidences were accidental, then, at hap-hazard, did Mr. Dickenf
unconsciously exhibit a person and an idiosyncracy remarkably like those ol
Mr. Bot Smith." — M.

* Mr. Foster is deeply versed in Irish antiquities. He alleges that he dis
covered in the county of Kerry, a very singular building, which is called Stnigm
Fort. General Vallancey thought that it was a Phoenician theatre. I arn no*
what conjecture Mr. Foster formed respecting it; probably he takes it

260 JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.

I pass, by a natural transition, from the vast acquirements
of Mr. Foster, to that office which, from its connection with
learning, it would appear at first view that he was admirably
qualified to fill. He was, for a considerable period, a Commis-
sioner of Education, with an enormous salary; and thus, with
the sums which he has received as a Commissioner of Inquiry
into the Courts of Justice, and his vast emoluments as counsel-
to the Commissioners of Customs and Excise, Mr. Foster has
poured an immense quantity of the public money into his cof-
fers. But, however the love of learning, and its unquestion-
able possession, might appear to render Mr. Foster an eligible
person to investigate the progress of education, yet his predi-
lections, both political and religious, were so strong, that the
Roman Catholics considered the appointment of a person so
legally orthodox, to report upon the state of their schools, as
an injustice.

In order to give some aspect of fairness to this proceeding,
and to create a counterpoise to his prejudices, the Government
united with Mr. Foster, a gentleman in every way well adapted
to encounter him, the Remembrancer of the Court of Exche-
quer, Mr. Blake. I believe that it was not anticipated that
that gentleman would have approved himself so stout and

for an old conventicle, employed by the Irish Christians before Popery was
in use. Mr. Bland, the writer of an essay in the Transactions of the Royal
Irish Academy, makes the following observations upon Mr. Foster's claims to
the discovery of this building: "About nine years back, Mr. Leslie Foster
visited this country, and passed Staigne by unnoticed ; but being pi-evailed on
by me, he was reluctantly induced to return and see it. He afterward published,
in some periodical work or newspaper, an account of it ; and being ignorant,
I suppose, of what I have stated, respecting Mr. Pelham's correspondence with
General Vallancey, he considered himself the first discoverer of this ancient
structure." — Vol. XIV. p. 22. [General Vallancey, who was born in 1721, and
wrote much upon the Antiquities of Ireland, was not " a son of the sod."' In
his youth, when quartered in Ireland as an officer of engineers, he closely stud-
ied the language, antiquities, and topography of the island. He closely tnd
scientifically surveyed it (for which Government gave him one thousand po'inds
sterling), and besides contributing to various periodicals, wrote a Grammar and
Dictionary of the Irish language, " Collectanea de Rebus Hibernicis," &c.
Finally, he attained the rank of General. The object of most of his Irish
works was to show, I believe, that Ireland was peopled by the Phoenicians
When Vallancey died (in 1812), he was more than ninety years old. — I^.~)

AfrD FOSTER. 21

uncompromising an asserter of the interests of his country and
the honor of his religion. Mr. Foster had originally, from his
previous habits of mystical research, and from his familiarity
with the mysterious, great advantages over Mr. Blake, in
examining the Catholic priesthood upon questions of dogmatic
theology; but Mr. Blake, who has extraordinary powers of
acquiring knowledge, and of fitting his mind to every intellec
t'ual occupation, resolved to make himself a match for this
Aquinas of Protestantism, and threw himself off from the
heights of the law into the deepest lore into which Mr. Foster
had ever plunged. He rose from the dark bottoms of divinity
as black and as begrimed with mysteries as his brother Com
missioner; and, thus prepared, they set off upon their tour
through the Catholic colleges of Ireland.

The object of Leslie Foster was to bring out whatever was
unfavorable to the Irish priesthood ; while Mr. Blake (himself
a Roman Catholic) justly endeavored to rectify the miscon-
structions of his brother inquirer, and to jfresent the doctrines
of his religion, and the character of its ministers, in the least
exceptionable form. Wlten Mr. Faster got hold of a country
priest, and put him to his shifts by some interrogatory touching
the decrees of the earlier Councils, Mr. Blake would intervene,
and rescue his fellow-Catholic from his embarrassments by
suggesting a solution of the difficulty ; and, without getting
into it, helped him out of the deep quagmire of theology into
which his examiner had led him. If Mr. Foster attempted to
quote a passage from some moth-eaten folio with any deviation
from a just fidelity of citation, Mr. Blake would immediately
detect him. Mr. Foster would rely upon the disputable ethics
of some ancient Catholic schoolman ; and Mr. Blake would
straight produce a, Protestant divine who inculcated the same
doctrine. Sometimes Mr. Blake, not contented with acting on
the defensive, would invade the enemy's territory ; and if an
ex-priest were tendered by Mr. Foster for cross-examination,
the Popish Remembrancer of the Exchequer exhibited all his
acumen and dexterity in exposing the renegade. A person of
the name of Dickson, who had been a Catholic priest, was
produced in order to vilify Maynooth, where he had received

JOHN LESLtti JOSfEtt.

his eleemosynary education. Mr. Blake took hold of him, and,
by a series of admirable interrogatories, eminently distin-
guished by astuteness and power of combination, laid this
deserter of his altars bare, and tore off his apostate surplice.

But this was not the most remarkable instance in which Mr.
Foster was foiled in his efforts to convert his office into the
means of promoting his religious and political opinions. He
had the misfortune to fall into the hands of the Provincial of
the Jesuits in Ireland, the Rev. Mr. Kenny. A desire was, if
I rightly recollect, expressed by' Sir T. Lethbridge,* that a
Jesuit should be produced at the bar of the House of Commons,
in order that some sort of judgment should be formed of the
peculiar nature of the ecclesiastical animal. Mr. Kenny is the
most perfect specimen of this class of Catholic phenomena that
could be produced. He wants, it must be confessed, some of
the external attributes which should enter into the composition
of the beau ideal of Jesuitism. He is by no means gracefully
constructed ; for there is a want of level about his shoulders,
and his countenance, when uninvested with his spiritual expres-
sion, is rather of a forbidding and lurid cast. The eyes are
of deep and fiery jet, and so disposed, that while one is bent
in humility to the earth, the other is raised in inspiration to
Heaven ; — brows of thick and bushy black spread in straight
lines above them. His rectilinear forehead is strongly in-
dented with passion — satire sits upon his thin lips, and a livid
hue is spread over a quadrangular face, the sunken cheeks of
which exhibit the united effects of monastic abstinence and
profound meditation. The countenance is Irish in its configur-
ation ; but Mr. Kenny was educated at Palermo, and a Sicilian
suavity of manner is thrown, like a fine silken veil, over his
strong Hibernian features. The beaming rays of his eye are
seldom allowed to break out, for they are generally bent to the
ground, and habitually concealed by lids, fringed with long
dark lashes, which drop studiously over them.

Such is the outward Jesuit: — his talents and acquii ementa

* A county member of Parliament, bull-headed and intolerant, who, from the
material of one of his garments, was usually called " Sir Thomas
breeches."— M.

A JESUIT. 263

are of tlie first order, and in argumentative eloquence lie lias
no superior in Ireland. Leslie Foster, in the spirit of theologi-
cal chivalry, and having set up as a knight-errant against
popery, happened to meet with this disciple of Loyala, and
resolved to break a syllogism with him. Mr. Kenny was duty
summoned to attend the Commissioners of Education, and
upon this occasion the interposition of Mr. Blake was quite
unnecessary. With a blended expression of affected humility
and bitter mockery, the follower of Ignatius answered all Mr.
Foster's questions, correcting the virulence of sarcasms by the
softness of his mellifluous cadences, and by the religious clasp-
ing of his hands, which were raised in such a way as to touch
the extremities of his chin, while he lamented, with a dolorous
voice, the lamentable ignorance and delusion of the gentleman
who could, in the nineteenth century, put him such prepos-
terous interrogatories.

Leslie Foster was baffled by every response, and amid the
jeers of his brother Commissioners, with Mr. Blake compas-
sionating him on one side, and Mr. Grlascot* nudging him at
the other, while Frankland Lewis trod upon his toes, was at
length persuaded to give up his desperate undertaking. Some
of the questions put to the Jesuit were rather of an offensive
character; and one of the Commissioners, when the examina-
tion had concluded* begged that he would make allowance for
the imperious sense of duty Avhich had induced Mr. Foster to
commit an apparent violation of the canons of good breeding.
" Holy Ignatius !" exclaimed the son of Loyola, holding his
arms meekly upon his breast, "I am not offended — I never
saw a more simple-minded gentleman in all my life !'*

Mr. Foster, so far as the receipt of the public money is con
cerned, does not bear out the Jesuit's ejaculation. He has not
proved himself exceedingly simple, by uniformly adopting that
course of political conduct which was calculated to advance
his personal interests and to better his fortune. I have already
mentioned that he received large annual stipends from Govern'

* Toby Glascot was a sharp Dublin attorney, who sided with the then dom-
inant Ascendency party. In 1829, he made a show of starting as a candidate,
against O'Connell, after the Catholic Relief Bill was passed. — M.

JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.

ment as commissioner of education and of justice. His chief
source of emolument, the fountain from winch his Pactolug
flows, is in the revenue of Ireland ; and, I conceive that, in his
instance, a very unqualified job has recently been effected,
notwithstanding all the boasted- cleansing of that Cloaca
Maxima, the Customhouse. I put all levity aside, because, in
my judgment, the expedient by which an annual sum of two
thousand pounds sterling has been given to him calls for decided
condemnation ; and furthermore, I am of opinion, that he is
bound to resign his seat in Parliament under the Irish statute
passed in the thirty-third year of the late King.

Mr. Foster was appointed counsel to the Commissioners of
Customs and Excise in April, 1818. He succeeded Sir Charles
Ormsby, with a salary of one hundred pounds sterling a year,
payable by the Board of Customs, with certain fees on each
brief. The Irish Board of Customs was annihilated by the
Consolidation Act, which abolished the* employments held
under their authority. The office held by Mr. Foster was
abolished as never having been necessary or useful, and the
Lords of the Treasury recognise that abolition. If Mr. Foster
has lost his original appointment, and in lieu thereof the Crown
retain him (is not every information in the name of the
Crown, and is he not its counsel?) "to act as counsel to the
Board, with a salary of <£2000 a year," to be payable without
any reference to the extent or even the existence of business,
this is a new office under the Crown; and if it be, he must
resign his seat, under the 33d of George III., cap. 41, in which
it is enacted, by section 4, that, " if any member of the House
of Commons shall accept any office of profit from the Crown,
during such time as he shall continue a member, his seat shall
thereupon become vacant, and a writ shall issue for a new
election." The 41st of George III. virtually re-enacts these
clauses. In that event, Harry Mills and the Doctor will again
parade the streets of Dundalk; Leslie Foster will again wipe
the cold exsudation from his forehead with an orange kerchief,
but he will not again be carried in triumph through the woods
of Cullen, amidst the applauses of the yeomanry, the hurras
of the parson, the sexton, and the parish clerk, and the accla-
mations of the police.

THE CLARE ELECTION, IN 1828.

THE Catholics liad passed a resolution, at one of their aggre-
gate meetings, to oppose the election of every candidate who
should not pledge himself against the Duke of Wellington's
Administration. This measure lay for some time a mere dead
letter in the registry of the Association, and was gradually
passing into oblivion, when an incident occurred which gave it
an importance far greater than had originally belonged to it.
Lord John Russell, flushed with the victory which had been
achieved in the repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts,* and
grateful to the Duke of Wellington for the part which he had
taken, wrote a letter to Mr. O'Connell, in which he suggested
that the conduct of his Grace had been so fair and manly tow-
ard the Dissenters as to entitle him to their gratitude; and
that they would consider the reversal of the resolution which
had been passed against his government as evidence of the in-
terest which was felt in Ireland, not only in the great question
peculiarly applicable to that country, but in the assertion of
religious freedom through the empire. The authority of Lord
John Russell is considerable, and Mr. O'Connell, under the
influence of his advice, proposed that the anti-Wellington res-

* In Februaiy, 1828, Lord John Russell introduced a bill for the abolition
of the Test and Corporation Acts. (which subjected Dissenters to civil disabili
ties on account of their religious faith), and it passed into a law that session,
chiefly in consequence of the feeble opposition offered to it by Peel, then Min-
isterial leader in the Commons. In truth, Peel was just then in a transition
state, having seen that the old Tory system of intolerance could not continue,
and scarcely knowing how to change it. Observant politicians judged, when
relief was afforded to the Dissenters, that justice to the Catholics must follow
it did, in 1829. — M.

VOL. II.— 12

CLAUE

olution should be witl. drawn. Tins motion was violently op-
posed, and Mr. O'Connell perceived that the antipathy to the
Great Captain was more deeply rooted than he had originally
imagined. After a long and tempestuous debate, he suggested
an amendment, in which the principle of his original motion
wns given tip, and the Catholics remained pledged to their
hostility to the Duke of Wellington's Administration. Mr.
O'Connell has reason to rejoice at his failure in carrying this
proposition ; for, if he had succeeded, no ground for opposing
the return of Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald would have existed.

The promotion of that gentleman to a seat in the Cabinet
created a vacancy in the representation of the county of Clare ;
and an opportunity was afforded to the Roman Catholic body
of proving that the resolution which had been passed against
the Duke of Wellington's Government was not an idle vaunt,
but that it could be carried in a striking instance into effect.
It was determined that all the power of the people should bo
put forth.* The. Association looked round for a candidate, and,

* Clare Election, the unexpected result of which certainly compelled Wel-
lington and Peel to grant Catholic Emancipation in 1829. took place under the
following circumstances. The Catholic Association had 1'esolved to oppose the
election or re-election of any member of a Government hostile to the Catholic
claims. On June 13, 1828 (the Duke of Wellington being Premier), Mr. Vesey
Fit/.gerald, who had always voted for the Catholics, was gazetted President of
the Board of Trade, the holder of which office is always a Cabinet Minister.
On the 16th of June, he was also appointed Treasurer to the Navy. It is a
constitutional rule, in England, that no office, having emolument attached, c»n
be conferred by the Crown on a member of the House of Commons, without
his thei'eby vacating his seat: which explains how, on a change of Ministry,
Parliamentary business is usually suspended until the new officials have gone
back to their different constituencies, for re-election or rejection. Mr. Fitz-
gerald, who was M. P. for Clare county, therefore, had to present himself to
the electors; and did so, without any anticipation of rejection. Mr. O'Connell,
on becoming a candidate, pledged h s professional reputation (than which none
was higher) on his assertion that, f elected, he could take his seat in tho
House of Commons without taking the then usual oath that the Catholic reli-
gion was idolatrous. Mr. Charles Butler, the eminent Catholic hamster of
London, well known as an erudite constitutional lawyer, unexpectedly backed
this {insertion by an elaborate argument which went to show that Mr. O'Con-
nell's view was right. The election commenced on June 30, 1828, and pro-
ceeded as graphically related by Mr. Sheil. The entire constituency of the

MAJOK MACNAMAR.i. 267

without Laving previously consulted him, re-elected Major
M'Namara, a Protestant in religion, a Catholic in politics, and
a Milesian in descent. Although he is equally well known in
Dublin and in Clare, his provincial is distinct from his metro-
politan reputation. In Dublin he may he seen at half-past four
o'clock, strolling, with a lounge of easy importance, toward
Kild are-street Club-house, and dressed in exact imitation of
the King [George IV. J ; to whose royal whiskers the Major's
are considered to bear a profusely-powdered and highly-frizzled
affinity. Not contented with this single point of resemblance,
he has, by the entertainment of " a score or two of tailors," and
the profound study of the regal fashions, achieved a complete
look of Majesty ; and, by the turn of his coat, the dilation of
his chest, and an aspect of egregious dignity, succeeded in pro
ducing in his person a very fine effigy of his sovereign.

With respect to his moral qualities, he belongs to the good
old school of Irish gentlemen ; and, from the facility of his
manners, and his graceful mode of arbitrating a difference, has
acquired a very eminent character as "a friend." No man is
better versed in the strategies of Irish honor. He chooses the

county of Clare was eight thousand, of whom two hundred were twenty and
fifty pound freeholders and rent-chargers, while the rest were forty-shilling free-
holders— the class who had beaten the Beresfords, at Waterford election, in
1826, and would have been disfranchised, by one of the "wings," had the
Catholic Relief Bill been passed the year before. The polling terminated on
Saturday, July 5, 1828. and the result showed — for O'Connell, 2,057 ; for Fit/-
gerald, 982 : majority for O'Connell, 1,075. When the state of the poll was
announced, the friends of Mr. Fitzgerald presented a protest to the High-
Sheriff, who was the returning-officer, claiming that Mr. F. be declared duly
elected, because Mr. O'Connell was a Catholic, and had publicly declared that
hn would not take the usual oaths to sit in Parliament. The case was fully
argued before the Sheriff and his assessor (a lawyer of eminence), and the result
WAS that Mr. O'Connell must be returned as duly elected by a majority of votes ;
that the law did not disqualify a Catholic from being so elected; and that
whether O'Connell would or would not refuse to take the oaths, to which he
objected, could not be ascertained until his appearance in the House of Com-
mons. So, he was declared member, and hjs first frank was on a letter com-
municating the intelligence to his wife. He exercised the privilege of frank-
ing (abolished by the penny-postage act in 1840) from the day of his election
until the time after the. Catholic Relief Bill was passed, when he was not allowed
to take his seat without taking the old oaths, which he i-efused to do. — M.

268 CLARE ELECTION.

ground with an O'Trigger eye, and by a glance over " the fif-
teen acres," is able to select, with an instantaneous accuracy,
the finest position for the settlement of a quarrel.* In his cal-
culation of distances, he displays a peculiarly scientific genius;
and, whether it be expedient to bring down your antagonist
at a long shot, or at a more embarrassed interval of feet, you
may be sure of the Major's loading to a grain. In the county
of Clare he does not merely enact the part of a sovereign. He
is the chief of the clan of the M'Namaras, and after rehearsing
the royal character at Kildare street, the moment he arrives
on the coast of Clare, and visits the oyster-beds at Poldoody,t
becomes " every inch a king." He possesses great influence
with the people, which is founded upon far better grounds than
their hereditary reverence for the Milesian nobility of Ireland.
He is a most excellent magistrate. If a gentleman should en-
deavor to crush a poor peasant, Major M'Namara is ready to
protect him, not only with the powers of his office, but at the
risk of his life. This creditable solicitude for the rights and
the interests of the lower orders had rendered him most de-
servedly popular; and, in naming him as their representative,
the Association could not have made a more judicious choice.J
He was publicly called upon to stand.

Some days elapsed, and no answer was returned by the Ma-
jor. The public mind was thrown into suspense, and various
conjectures went abroad as to the cause of this singular omis-
sion. Some alleged that he was gone to an island off the coast
of Clare, where the proceedings of the Association had not
reached him ; while others suggested that he was only waiting
until the clergy of the county should declare themselves more

* In Phoenix Park, the suburban residence of the Lord-Lieutenant, a par-
ticular part, called "The Fifteen Acres," was noted as the place where the
Dublin duellists generally had their little " affairs of honor." Duelling is nearly
extinct in Ireland now. — M.

t The Poldoody and Carlingford oysters were as popular in Ireland as the
Colchester and Milton in London, or the Shrewsbury and East River in New
York. — M.

t Major M'Namara, who was O'Connell's second in the duel with D'Esterre,
in 1815, was returned to Parliament, by his Clare neighbors, after Catholic
Emancipation was obtained, and usually voted with O'Connell. He died much
respected by all parties, but was a very commonplace man. — M.

THE RIVAL PRIESTHOOD. 260

unequivocally favorable to him. The latter, it was said, had
evinced much apathy ; and it was rumored that Dean O'Shaugh-
nessy, who is a distant relative of Mr. Fitzgerald, had inti-
mated a determination not to support any anti-ministerial can-
didate. The Major's silence, and the doubts which were enter-
tained with regard to the allegiance of the priests, created a
sort of panic at the Association. A meeting was called, and
various opinions were delivered as to the propriety of engaging
in a contest, the issue of which was considered exceedingly
doubtful, and in which failure would be attended with such
disastrous consequences. Mr. O'Connell himself did not "ap-
pear exceedingly sanguine ; and Mr. Purcell O'Gorman, a na-
tive of Clare, and who had a minute knowledge of the feelings
of the people, expressed apprehensions.

There Avere, however, two gentlemen (Mr. O'Gorman Mahon
and Mr. Steele), who strongly insisted that the people might
be roused, and that the priests were not as lukewarm as was
imagined. Upon the zeal of Dean O'Shaughnessy, however,
a good deal of question was thrown. By a singular coinci-
dence, just as his name was uttered, a gentleman entered, who,
but for the peculiar locality, might have been readily mistaken
for a clergyman of the Established Church. Between the
priesthood of the two religions there are, in aspect and de-
meanor, as well as in creed and discipline, several points of
affinity, and the abstract sacerdotal character is readily per-
ceptible in both. The parson, however, in his attitude and
attire, presents the evidences of superiority, and carries the
mannerism of ascendency upon him. A broad-brimmed hat,
composed of the smoothest and blackest material, and drawn
by two silken threads into a fire-shovel configuration, a felici-
tous adaptation of his jerkin to the symmetries of his chest and
shoulder, stockings of glossy silk, which displayed the happy
proportions of a finely-swelling leg, a ruddy cheek, and a bright,
authoritative eye, suggested, at first view, that the gentleman
who had entered the room while the -merits of Dean O'Shaugh-
nessy were under discussion, must be a minister of the prosper-
ous Christianity of the Established Church. It was, however,
uo other than Dean O'Shanghnessy himself.

f.

270 CLARE ELECTION.

He was received with a burst of applause, which indicated
that, whatever surmises with respect to his fidelity had previ-
ously gone out, his appearauce before that tribunal (for it is
one) was considered by the assembly as a proof of his devotion
to the public interest. The Dean, however, made a very scho-
lastic sort of oration, the gist of which it was by no means easy
to arrive at. He denied that he had enlisted himself under
Mr. Fitzgerald's banners, but at the same time studiously
avoided giving any sort of pledge. He did not state distinctly
what his opinion was with respect to the co-operation of the
priests with the Association ; and, when he was pressed, begged
to be allowed to withhold his sentiments on the subject. The
Association were not, however, dismayed ; and it having been
conjectured that the chief reason for Major M'Namara having
omitted to return an answer was connected with pecuniary con-
siderations, it was decided that so large a sum as five thousand
pounds of the Catholic rent should be allocated to the expenses
of his election.

Mr. O'Gorman Mali on and Mr. Steele were directed to pro-
ceed at once to Clare, in order that, they might have a personal
interview with him; and they immediately set off. After an
absence of two days, Mr. O'Gorman Malion returned, having
left his colleague behind in order to arouse the people ; and he
at length conveyed certain intelligence with respect to the
Major's, determination. The obligations under which his fam-
ily lay to Mr. Fitzgerald were such, that he was bound in
honor not to oppose him. This information produced a feeling
of deep disappointment among the Catholic body, while the
Protestant party exulted in his apparent desertion of the cause,
and boasted that no gentleman of the county would stoop so
low as to accept of the patronage of the Association. In this
emergency, and when it was universally regarded as an utterly
hopeless attempt to oppose the Cabinet Minister, the public
were astonished by an address from Mr. O'Connell to the free-
bidders of Clare, in which he offered himself as a candidate,
and solicited their support.

Nothing but his subsequent success could exceed the sensa-
tion which was produced by this address, and all eyes wero

VESEY FITZGERALD. 271

turned toward the field in which so remarkable a contest was
to be waged. The two candidates entered the lists with sig-
nal advantages upon both sides. Mr. O'Connell had an un-
paralleled popularity, which the services of thirty years had
secured to him. Upon the other hand, Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald
presented a combination of favorable circumstances, which
rendered the issue exceedingly difficult to calculate.* His
father had held the office of Prime Sergeant at the Irish Bar;
and, although indebted to the Government for his promotion,
had the virtuous intrepidity to vote against the Union. This
example of independence had rendered him a great favorite
with the people. From the moment that his son had obtained
access to power, he had employed his extensive influence in
doing acts of kindness to the gentry of the County of Clare.
He had inundated it with the overflowings of ministerial
bounty. The eldest sons of the poorer gentlemen, and the
younger branches of the aristocracy, had been provided for
through his means; and in the army, the navy, the treasury,
the Four Courts, and the Customhouse, the proofs of his politi-
cal friendship were everywhere to be found.

William Vesey Fitzgerald was the son of James Fitzgerald, once Prime
Sergeant of Ireland, and Catherine Vesey, a rich co-heiress. James Fitzgerald
who had held several high offices in Ireland, opposed the contemplated Legis-
lative Union with Great Britain, and threw up his rank of Prime Sergeant,
which placed him at the head of the legal profession in Ireland, whence his
transition to the judicial ermine was certain. His giving up place, for the sake
of his country, made him extremely popular. His eldest son entered Parlia-
ment, and successively became Privy Councillor, Chancellor of the Irish Ex-
chequer, Paymaster of the Forces, and President of the Board of Trade. He
invariably supported Catholic Emancipation, and not the less warmly because
the Catholic leader defeated him at Clare. His mother was created Baroness
Fitzgerald and Vesci, in 1827. On her death, in 1832, Vesey Fitzgerald svic-
cceded to this title, as her eldest son. In January, 1835, his father went to his
long and last resting-place, aged 93. In the same year, his son received an
English, in addition to his Irish barony, and became a Peer of the United King-
dom. When he died in 1843 (as Lord Fitzgerald and Vesci) he was Lord
Lieutenant of Clare. He was, in all respects,, an accomplished gentleman, an
elegant if not eloquent speaker, a tried friend of the Catholics, aad an excel-
lent man of business. At the Clare Election, in 1828, his good temper, true
courtesy, and undoubted amiability, won him " heaps of friends" even among
the very men who voted against him. Mr. Sheil, in writing of him, involunta-
rily shows how greatly, while he opposed, he estimated him. — C$r

272 CLAHE ELECTION.

Independently of any act of his winch could be referred to
his personal interest, and his anxiety to keep up his influence
in the county, Mr. Fitzgerald, who is a man of very amiable
disposition, had conferred many services upon his Clare ac-
quaintances. Nor was it to Protestants that these manifesta-
tions of favor were confined. He had laid not only the Oath-
olic proprietors, but the Catholic priesthood, tinder obligation.
The Bishop of the diocese himself (a respectable old gentle-
man who drives about in a gig with a mitre upon it) is sup-
posed not to have escaped from his bounties ; and it is more
than insinuated that some droppings of ministerial manna had
fallen upon him. The consequence of this systematized and
uniform plan of benefaction is obvious. The sense of obliga-
tion was heightened by the manners of this extensive distrib-
uter of the favors of the Crown, and converted the ordinary
feeling of thankfulness into one of personal regard. To this
array of very favorable circumstances, Mr. Fitzgerald brought
the additional influence which arose from his recent promotion
to the Cabinet; which, to those who had former benefits to
return, afforded an opportunity for the exercise of that kind of
prospective gratitude which has been described to consist of a
lively sense of services to come. These were the comparative
advantages with which the ministerial and the popular candi-
date engaged in this celebrated contest; and Ireland stood by
to witness the encounter.

Mr. O'Connell did not immediately set off from Dublin ; but,
before his departure, several gentlemen were despatched from
the Association in order to excite the minds of the people, and
to prepare the way for him. The most active and useful of
the persons who were employed upon this occasion were the
two gentlemen to whom I have already referred, Mr. Steele
and Mr. O'Grorman. They are both deserving of special com-
mendation. The former is "a Protestant of a respectable for-
tune in the County of Clare,* and who has all his life beer

* The late "Tom Steele," as he was familiarly called, is supposed not to
have had an enemy in the world. He was born November 3, 1788, and was a
member of a Protestant family in Clare, where he succeeded to considerable
landed property. He was a graduate of the Universities of Dublin and

THOMAS 8TEELE. 273

ilevoted to the assertion of liberal principles. In Trinity Col-
lege, lie was among the foremost of the advocates of emanci-
pation, and at that early period became the intimate associate
of many Roman Catholic gentlemen who have since distin-

bridge and distinguished himself at both ; a member of the London Institution
of Civil Engineers (admitted for his improvements in diving machinery an J
sub-marine illumination) ; one of the defenders of Cadiz, in 1823, under the
command of Sir Robert Wilson ; seconded O'Connell's nomination at Clare
election in 1828 ; was an original member of Birmingham Political Union
from its formation in 1830, and thus an instrument of the Grey Ministry in car-
rying the Reform Bill ; threw himself, with intense earnestness, into the Eman
cipation anti-tithe, and Repeal movements; was O'Connell's Head Pacificato.
and Repeal Warden-in-Chief for all Ireland ; took part in the Monster Meet-
ings of 1843 ; was tried and convicted, with O'Connell and the other repealers, in
1844 ; suffei'ed the like imprisonment with them, which was subsequently declared
by the House of Lords to be illegal ; and died in June, 1848,. at Peele's Coflfee-
House, in London, in such extreme want, that he would have starved but for
the humanity of the landlord, who kindly allowed him to want for nothing
Bitter necessity had broken his heart, and driven him to despair. His las
moments were soothed by the sympathy, bounty, and personal kindness of Lor..
Brougham and Colonel Perceval (the Orangeman) with both of whom, as pub-
lic men, he had waged political strife. How his fortune went it is hard to say.
His personal expenditure was small. He disbursed a good deal in scientific
investigations, and also in attempting to improve the navigation of the Shan-
non at his own expense — his plan has since been successfully carried out by a
Parliamentary grant. In the State Trials of 1844, when he was very restless
and talkative, interrupting the proceedings, Mr. Smith, then Attorney-General,
turned round and said, " Steele, if you do not keep quiet, I shall certainly strike
your name out of the indictment." This threat of depriving him of the honors
of political persecution and martyrdom, immediately silenced Tom Steele ! He
was a tall, muscular, well-built man, who arrayed himself in a military blue frock,
with the Repeal button. His face was full of amiability and honesty. He
spoke more earnestly than eloquently. He was one of the most sincere and
least selfish of public men. He had not room in his heart for one ungenerous
or unmanly feeling. He loved O'Connell with a love almost passing that of
woman. Ireland ought not to have allowed Tom Steele to die, almost a
pauper, in a foreign land. His departure from life should have been in the
country he would have died to serve, amid " troops of friends," and not to be

" By strangers honored, and by strangers mourned."

I remember when his death (and its manner) was communicated to the Lon-
doners, how men whom I had always considered apathetic, met me in the
street, pressed my hand, which had often been grasped in his, and said, in bro-
ken accents, and with moistened eyes, " Poor Tom Steele." The chivalry ot
his character and conduct had smitten the rock, and the fountain of feeling
gushed forth, when his gallant life had passed away. — M.

274: CLARE ELECTION.

guislied themselves in the proceedings of tlieir body. Being a
man of independent circumstances, Mr. Steele did not devote
himself to any profession, and having a zealous and active
mind, he looked round for occupation. The Spanish war
afforded him a field for the display of that generous enthusiasm
by which he is distinguished. He joined the patriot army,
and fought with a desperate valor upon the batteries of the
Trocadero. It was only when Cadiz had surrendered, and
the cause of Spain beeame utterly hopeless, that Mr., Steele
relinquished this noble undertaking. He returned to England,
surrounded by exiles from the unfortunate country for the
liberation of which he had repeatedly exposed his life. It
was impossible for a man of so much energy of character to
remain in torpor; and on his arrival in Ireland, faithful to the
principles by which he had been uniformly swayed, he joined
the Catholic Association — -There he delivered several power-
ful and enthusiastic declamations in favor of religious liberty.
Such a man, however, was fitted for action as well as for
harangue; and the moment the contest" in Clare began, he
threw himself into the combat with the same alacrity with
which he had rushed upon the French bayonets at Cadiz.
He was serviceable in various ways. He opened the political
campaign by intimating his readiness to fight any landlord who
should conceive himself to be aggrieved by an interference
with his tenants. This was a very impressive exordium. He
then proceeded to canvass for votes; and, assisted by his
intimate friend Mr. O'Gorman Mahon, travelled through the
country, and, by both day and night, addressed the people
from the altars round which they were assembled to hear him.
It is no exaggeration to say, that to him, and to his intrepid
and indefatigable confederate, the success of Mr. O'Connell
is greatly to be ascribed.

Mr. O'Gorman Mahon is introduced into this article as one
among many figures. He would deserve to stand apart in a
portrait.* Nature has been peculiarly favorable to him. He

* James O'Gorman Mahon subsequently entered Parliament, and made some
e-ood speeches on popular subjects. He was declared unseated for want of
ctoperty qualification (three hui dred pounds sterling for a borough, and ftvp

MR. O'GORMAN MASON.

lias a very striking physiognomy, of the Corsair character,
which the Protestant Guliiares, and the Catholic Medoras, find
it equally difficult to resist. His figure is tall, and he is pecu-
liarly free and degage in all his attitudes and movements. In
any other his attire would appear singular!}' fantastical. His
manners are exceedingly frank and natural, and have a char-
acter of kindliness as well as of self-reliance imprinted upon
them. He is wholly free from embarrassment and mauvaise
honte, and carries a well-founded consciousness of his personal
merit; which is, however, so well united Avith urbanity, that
it is not in the slightest degree offensive. His talents as a
popular speaker are considerable. He derives from external
qualifications an influence over the multitude, which men of
diminutive stature are somewhat slow of obtaining. A little
man is at first view regarded by the great body of spectators
with disrelish ; and it is only by force of phrase, and by the
charm of speech, that he can at length succeed in inducing
his auditors to overlook any infelicity of configuration ; but
when O'Gorman Mahon throws himself out before the people,
and, touching his whiskers with one hand, brandishes the
other, an enthusiasm is at once produced, to which the fail-
portion of the spectators lend thetr tender contribution. Such
a man was exactly adapted to the excitement of the people of
Clare; and it must be admitted, that by his indefatigable
exertions, his unremitting activity, and his devoted zeal, he
most materially assisted in the election of Mr. O'Connell.

While Mr. Steele and Mr. O'Gorman Mahon harangued the
people in one district, Mr. Lawless, who was also despatched
upon a similar mission, applied his faculties of excitation in
another. This gentleman has obtained deserved celebrity by
Ms being almost the only individual among the Irish deputies
who remonstrated against the sacrifice of the .rights of the
forty -shilling freeholders. Ever since that period he has been
eminently popular; and although he may occasionally, by

hundred pounds a year for a county member) and abandoned public life for a
considerable time. He again entered Parliament, in 1847, but was not re-
elected in 1852 He was a remarkably handsome man, in 1828; and dressed
in a sbowv manner. — M.

CLARE ELECTION.

ebullitions of ill-regulated but generous enthusiasm, create ft
little merriment among those whose minds are not as suscep-
tible of patriotic and disinterested emotion as his own, yet the
conviction which is entertained of his honesty of purpose, con-
fers upon him a considerable influence. "Honest Jack Law-
less" is the designation by which he has been known since the
" wings" were in discussion.* He has many distinguished

* To have been called " Honest Jack Lawless," arid to have merited the
name, must be considered a great distinction. John Lawless originally studied
for the Irish bar, but his friendship for, and presumed connection with Robert
Emmett, in 1803, caused Lord Clare to reject his application for admission.
Lawless, who was full of energy, bore this with great philosophy, and, relin-
quishing law and precedents for malt and hops, next became partner in a brew
ery at Dublin. After this, he yielded to his political and literary tastes, and be
came editor of a newspaper in Newry, where he obtained so high a reputation
for the touch-and-go talent which makes alike a light comedian and a " gentleman
of the press," that he was invited to Belfast, where he established and conducted
an excellent journal called " The Irishman." When the Catholic Associa-
tion was founded, John Lawless became an early and eager member. In 1825,
he opposed O'Connell on " The Wings." O'Connell's chief notice (though
the opposition annoyed him) was a complaint of " the under-growl of Jack
Lawless." After this, they soon were reconciled — a hollow truce, for, in 1832,
when Lawless was defeated in a contest for the Parliamentaiy representation
of Meath County, he was charged by O'Connell with having, " for a con-si-de-
ra-ti-on" (as old Trapbois says), sold his chances of being elected. Judging
from every one of Lawless's political and personal antecedents, this charge
was unfounded. Mr. Lawless died in August, 1837. — It may be necessary to
statfe that " The Wings" (to which Mr. Lawless and several other patriotic
Irishmen were so much opposed, as then to endanger the popularity of Mr.
O'Connell, who certainly did not resist them), were drawbacks with which
Catholic Emancipation was to have been clogged, if the Bill brought in, by Sir
Francis Burdett, in 1825, had passed into a law. They were embod-
ied in a separate Bill, which passed through several stages, but was necessarily
abandoned, when, mainly influenced by the Duke of York's " So help me God"
speech, the House of Lords rejected Burdett's bill, and thus deferred Emanci-
pation until 1829. By one "wing" the forty shilling freehold qualification, to
vote at Parliamectary elections, would have been abolished, and no one allowed
to vote, in counties, on less than a freehold often pounds sterling annual value.
By the other " wing," the entire Catholic clergy of Ireland, then estimated at
two thousand, -who were paid by the people, were to be paid by the Govern-
ment, at a cost of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling a year, out
of the public money. The matter for wonder is that any Catholic, who com-
plained of being called upon to pay, in tithes, for the maintenance of clergy-
men of another faith, could not have perceived the anomaly of allowing his

ME. LAWLESS. 27?

qualifications as a public* speaker. His voice is deep, round,
and mellow, and is diversified by a great variety of ricli and
harmonious intonation. His action is exceedingly graceful and
appropriate : he has a good figure, which, by a purposed swell
and dilation of the shoulders, and an elaborate erectness, he
turns to good account ; and by dint of an easy fluency of good
diction, a solemn visage, an aquiline nose of no vulgar dimen-
sion, eyes glaring underneath a shaggy brow with a certain
fierceness of emotion, a quizzing-glass, which is gracefully
dangled in any pauses of thought or suspensions of utterance,
and, above all, by a certain attitude of dignity, which he
assumes in the crisis of eloquence, accompanied with a flinging
back of his coat, which sets his periods beautifully off, " Hon-
est Jack" has become one of the most popular and efficient
speakers at the Association.

Shortly after Mr. Lawless had been despatched, a great rein-
forcement to the oratorical corps was sent down in the person
of the celebrated Father Maguire, or, as he is habitually
designated, " Father Tom." This gentleman had been for
some time a parish priest in the county of Leitrim. He lived
in a remote parish, where his talents were unappreciated.
Some accident brought Mr. Pope, the itinerant controversialist,
into contact with him. A challenge to defend the doctrines of
his religion was tendered by the wandering disputant to the
priest, and the latter at once accepted it. Maguire had given
no previous proof of his abilities, and the Catholic body re-
gretted the encounter. The parties met in this strange duel
of theology. The interest created by their encounter was
prodigious. Not only the room where their debates were
carried on was crowded, but the whole of Sackville street,
where it was situated, was thronged with population. Pope
brought to the combat great fluency, and a powerful declama-
tion. Maguire was a master of scholastic logic. After several
days of controversy, Pope was overthrown, and "Father Tom,"

own clergy to be paid by taxes, levied on all other creeds. For the promise \
two hundred and fifty thousand pounds was a small sum compared with tho
millions wrung out of the Catholics by the Protestant hierarchy and inferior
clergy. ~M.

278 CLABE

as the champion of orthodoxy, became the object of popular
adoration. A base conspiracy was got up to destroy his moral
character, and by its failure raised him in the affection of the
multitude. He had been under great obligations to Mr. O'Con-
nell, for his exertions upon his trial ; and from a just sentiment
of gratitude, he tendered his services in Clare. His name
alone was of great value; and when his coming was an-
nounced, the people everywhere rushed forward to hail the
great vindicator of the national religion.* He threw fresh
ingredients into the caldron, and contributed to impart to the
contest that strong religious character which it is not the fault
of the Association, but of the Government, that every contest
of the kind must assume.

* The Reverend Thomas Maguire was an Irish Catholic priest, a dialectician
of great power and ingenuity, who, shortly before the election-struggle in Clare,
had greatly distinguished himself, in a public and prolonged discussion with
the Reverend Mr. Pope, a Protestant clergyman. Mr. Maguire, who accepted
his challenge, was scarcely known even among his own persuasion, and many
apprehended defeat, not from any weakness of his cause, but from a belief that
:ls champion, unknown and untried, was unequally opposed to a practised
polemic. The discussion, which took place in Dublin, excited much interest
in the religious world. Each controversialist had to defend three articles of
his own and to assail as many of his adversary's faith. To the surprise of all,
Mr. Maguire proved equal, at least, to his more practised opponent. As usual,
both parties claimed the honor of the victory — at all events, Mr. Maguire was
admitted to have most distinguished himself. It is pleasant to add, that a warm
and mutual regard between Mr. Maguire and Mr. Pope sprang out of this con
troversy. The Orange party in Ireland, shortly after this discussion, did not
discourage, if they did not assist, a conspiracy which was got up to destroy
Mr. Maguire's private and clerical character. An action at law was brought
by a person named M'Gerratty, to recover damages for the seduction of his
daughter Ann, by the Reverend Thomas Maguire. The young woman was
examined on the trial, and swore, among other things, that Mr. Maguire had
seduced her under a promise of marriage, to be fulfilled on his becoming a Prot-
estant clergyman ! The jury, coupling this improbability with serious discrep-
ancies in her evidence as to the subject-matter of the suit, with her demeanor
in the witness-box, and with strong testimony of her previous bad character,
acquitted Mr. Maguire, without hesitation. For.the remaining twenty years of
his life, he was undisturbed by slander. He was a popular preacher, and was
often called upon to plead in aid of the sacred cause of charity. He died
suddenly, and it was suspected that he was poisoned by two of his own servants,
who desired to appropriate t themselves whatever portable property he was
possessed of.— M.

FATHER TOM MAGtTlRfi.

"Father Tom" was employed upon a remarkable exploit.
Mr. Augustine Butler, the lineal descendant of the famous Sir
Toby Butler, is a proprietor in Clare : he is a liberal Protest-
ant, but supported Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald. "Father Tom"
proceeded from the town of Ennis to the county chapel where
Mr Butler's freeholders were assembled, in order to address
them; and Mr. Butler, with an intrepidity which did him
credit, Avent forward to meet him. It was a singular encounter
in the house of God. The Protestant landlord called upon his
freeholders not to desert him. "Father Tom" rose to address
them in behalf of Mr. O'Connell. He is not greatly gifted
with a command of decorated phraseology ; but he is master
of vigorous language, and has a power of strong and simple
reasoning, which is equally intelligible to all classes. He
employs the syllogism of the schools as his chief weapon in
argument; but uses it with such dexterity, that his auditors of
the humblest class can follow him without being aware of the
technical expedient of logic by which he masters the under-
standing. His manner is peculiar: it is not flowery, nor de-
clamatory, but is short, somewhat abrupt, and, to use the
French phrase, is tranchant. His countenance is adapted to
his mind, and is expressive of the reasoning and controversial
faculties. A quick blue eye, a nose slightly turned up, and
formed for the tossing off of an argument, a strong brow, a
complexion of mountain ruddiness, and thick lips, which are
better formed for rude disdain than for polished sarcasm, are
his characteristics. He assailed Mr. Bntler with all his powers,
and overthrew him. The topic to which he addressed himself,
was one which was not only calculated to move the tenants of
Mr. Butler, but to stir Mr. Butler himself. He appealed to the
memory of his celebrated Catholic ancestor, of which Mr.
Butler is justly proud. He stated, that what Sir Toby Butler
had been, Mr. O'Conjiell was ; and he abjured him not to stand
up in opposition to an individual, whom he was bound to sus-
tain by a sort of hereditary obligation. His appeal carried the
freeholders away, and one hundred and fifty votes were se-
cured to Mr. O'Connell. Mr. Maguire was seconded in this
achievement by Mr. Dominick Ronayne, a barrister of tho

CLARE ELECTiOtf.

Association, of considerable talents, and who not only speaks
the English language with eloquence, hut is master of the Irish
tongue;* and, throwing an educated mind into the powerful
idiorn of the country, wrought with uncommon power upon the
passions of the people.

Mr. Sheil was employed as counsel for Mr. O'Connell before
the assessor; but proceeded to the county of Clare the day
before the election commenced. On his arrival, he understood
that an exertion was required in the parish of Oorofin, which
is situate upon the estate of Sir Edward O'Brien, who had
given all his interest to Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald. Sir Edward
is the most opulent resident landlord in the country .t In the
parish of Oorofin he had no less than three hundred votes ; and
it was supposed that his freeholders would go with him. Mr.
Sheil determined to assail him in the citadel of his strength,
and proceeded, upon the Sunday before the poll commenced,
to the chapel of Oorofin. Sir Edward O'Brien having learned
that this agitator intended this trespass upon his authority,
resolved to anticipate him, and set off in his splendid equipage,
drawn by four horses, to the mountains in which Corofin ia
situated. The whole population came down from their resi-
dences in the rocks, which are in the vicinity of the town of

* The Irish are fond of a joke, and O'Connell often indulged them. In
1843, when the Monster Meetings were proceeding, the Peel Ministry sent
short-hand writers to report the speeches of O'Connell and his co-agitators.
On one occasion, seeing " the gentlemen of the press" assembled on the plat-
form, ready to record every word he uttered, O'Connell called out to know
whether they had every facility and accommodation necessary. They answered,
truly, that everything had been done for their ease and comfort. It was in
one of the Southern counties, where the Irish language is spoken as often as the
English, and O'Connell, glancing waggishly around, commenced a speech in
Irish, to the surprise and dismay of the " Saxon" reporters. The nmltitudo
instantly entered into the humor of the joke, and shouts of laughter mingled
with the usual applause. It was a great triumph thus to have baffled the Gov-
ernment through its reporters, and was one of the amusing episodes of a period
of great personal and political excitement. — M.

I" Sir E. O'Brien, of Drumoland, County of Clare, was born in 1773 and
died in 1837. He was succeeded in his title by his eldest son, now Sir Lucius
O'Brien. His second son, William Smith O'Brien, late M. P. for Ennis, is
now (January, 1854) in New South Wales, as a transport for life, un ier his
conviction, on u charge of high treason, in 1848. — M.

FATttER MURPHY. 2Sl

Ennis, and advanced in large bands, waving green boughs,
and preceded by fifes and pipers, upon the road. Their land-
lord was met by them on his way. They passed him by in
silence, while they hailed the demagogue with shouts, and
attended him in triumph to the chapel. Sir Edward O'Brien
lost his resolution at this spectacle ; and feeling that he could
have no influence in such a state of excitation, instead of going
to the house of Catholic worship, proceeded to the church of
Corofin. He left his carriage exactly opposite the doors of the
chapel, which is immediately contiguous, and thus reminded
the people of his Protestantism, by a circumstance of which,
of course, advantage was instantaneously taken.

Mr. Sheil arrived with a vast multitude of attendants at the
chapel, which was crowded with people, who had flocked from
all quarters ; there a singular scene took place. Father
Murphy, the parish priest, came to the entrance of the chapel
dressed in his surplice. As he came forth, the multitude fell
back at his command, and arranged themselves on either side,
so as to form a lane for the reception of the agitator. Deep
silence was imposed upon the people by the priest, who had a
voice like subterraneous thunder, and appeared to hold them
in absolute dominion. When Mr. Sheil had reached the thresh-
old of the chapel, Father Murphy stretched forth his hand,
and welcomed him to the performance of the good work.

The figure and attitude of the priest were remarkable. My
English reader draws his ordinary notion of a Catholic clergy-
man from the caricatures which are contained in novels, or
represented in farces upon the stage ; but the Irish priest, Avho
has lately become a politician and a scholar, has not a touch
of foigardism about him ; and an artist would have found in
Father Murphy rather a study for the enthusiastic Macbriar,
who is so powerfully delineated in " Old Mortality," than a
realization of the familiar notions of a clergyman of the Church
of Rome. As he stood surrounded by a dense multitude, whom
he had hushed into profound silence, he presented a most im-
posing object. His form is tall, slender, and emaciated ; but
was enveloped in his long robes, that gave him a peculiarly
sacerdotal aspect. The hand which he stretched forth was

282 CLARE ELECTlOtf.

ample, but worn to a skinny meagritude and pallor. His face
was long, sunken, and cadaverous, but was illuminated by
eyes blazing with all the fire of genius, the enthusiasm of reli-
gion, and the devotedness of patriotism. His lank black hair
fell down his temples, and eyebrows of the same color stretched
in thick straight lines along a lofty forehead, and threw over
the whole countenance a deep shadow. The sun was shining
with brilliancy, and rendered his figure, attired as it was in
white garments, more conspicuous. The scenery about him
was in harmony; it was wild and desolate, and crags, with
scarce a blade of verdure shooting through their crevices, rose
everywhere around him. The interior of the chapel, at the
entrance of which he stood, was visible. It was a large pile
of building, consisting of bare walls, rudely thrown up, with a
floor of clay, and at the extremity stood an altar made of a few
boards clumsily put together.

It was on the threshold of this mountain-temple that the
envoy of the Association was hailed with a solemn greeting.
The priest proceeded to the altar, and commanded the people
to abstain, during the divine ceremony, from all political think-
ing or occupation. He recited the mass with great fervency
and simplicity of manner, and with all the evidences of unaf-
fected piety. However familiar, from daily repetition, with
the ritual, he pronounced it with a just emphasis, and went
through the various forms which are incidental to it with
singular propriety and grace. The people were deeply atten-
tive, and it was observable that most of them could read ; for
they had prayer-books in their hands, which they read with a
quiet devotion. Mass being finished, Father Murphy threw
his vestments off, and, without laying down the priest, assumed
the politician. He addressed the people in Irish, and called
upon them to vote for O'Connell in the name of their country
and of their religion.

It was a most extraordinary and powerful display of the
externals of eloquence; and, as far as a person unacquainted
with the language could form an estimate of the matter by the
effects produced upon the auditory, it must have been pregnant
With genuine oratory. It will be supposed that this singular

283

priest addressed liis parishioners in tones and gestures as rude
as the wild dialect to which he was giving utterance. His
action and attitudes were as graceful as an accomplished actor
could use in delivering the speech of Antony, and his intona-
tions were soft, pathetic, and denunciatory, and conjuring,
accordingly as his theme varied, and as he had recourse to dif-
ferent expedients to influence the people. The general char-
acter of this strange harangue was' impassioned and solemn ;
but he occasionally had recourse to ridicule, and his counte-
nance at once adapted itself with a happy readiness to derision.
The finest spirit of sarcasm gleamed over his features, and
shouts of laughter attended his description of a miserable
Catholic who should prove recreant to the great cause, by
making a sacrifice of his country to his landlord. The close
of his speech was peculiarly effective. He became inflamed
by the power of his emotions ; and while he raised himself
into the loftiest attitude to which he could ascend, he laid one
hand on the altar, and shook the other in the spirit of almost
prophetic admonition, and as his eyes blazed and seemed to
start from his forehead, thick drops fell down his face, and his
voice rolled through lips livid with passion and covered with
foam. It is almost unnecessary to say that such an appeal
was irresistible. The multitude burst into shouts of acclama-
tion, and would have been ready to mount a battery roaring
with cannon at his command. Two days after the results
were felt at the hustings ; and while Sir Edward O'Brien stood
aghast, Father Murphy marched into Ennis at the head of his
tenantry, and polled them to a man in favor of Daniel O'Con-
iiell. But I am anticipating.

The notion which had gone abroad in Dublin, that the
priests were lukewarm, was utterly unfounded. With the
exception of Dean O'Shaughnessy, who is a relative of Mr.
Fitzgerald (and for whom there is perhaps much excuse), and
a Father Ooffey, who has since been deserted by his congrega-
tion, and is paid his dues in bad halfpence, there was scarcely
a clergyman in the county who did not use his utmost influence
over the peasantry. On the day on which Mr. O'Connell
arrived, you met a priest in every street, who assured vou that

284: CLARE ELECTION.

the battle should be won, and pledged himself that " the man
of the people" should be returned. "The man of the people"
arrived in the midst of the loudest acclamations. Near thirty
thousand people were crowded into the streets of Ennis, and
were unceasing in their shouts. Banners were suspended from
every window, and women of great beauty were everywhere
seen waving handherchiefs with the figure of the patriot
stamped upon them. Processions of freeholders, with their
parish priests at their head, were marching like troops td dif-
ferent quarters of the city ; and it was remarkable that not a
single individual was intoxicated. The most perfect order
and regularity prevailed ; and the large bodies of police which
had been collected in tlie town stood without occupation.
These were evidences of organization, from which it was easy
to form a conjecture as to the result.

The election opened, and the courthouse in which the
Sheriff read the writ presented a very new and striking
scene. On the left-hand of the Sheriff stood a Cabinet-minis-
ter, attended by the whole body of the aristocracy of the
County of Clare. Their appearance indicated at once their
superior rank and their profound mortification. An expression
of bitterness and of wounded pride was stamped in various
modifications of resentment upon their countenances; while
others, who were in the interest of Mr. Fitzgerald, and who
were the small Protestant proprietors, affected to look big and
important, and swelled themselves into gentry upon the credit
of voting for the minister. On the right-hand of the Sheriff
stood Mr. O'Connell, with scarcely a single gentleman by his
side; for most even of the Catholic proprietors had abandoned
him, and joined the ministerial candidate. But the body of
the Court presented the power of Mr. O'Connell in a mass of
determined peasants, among whom black coats and sacerdotal
visages were seen felicitously intermixed, outside the balus-
trade of the gallery on the left-hand of the Sheriff.

Before the business began, a gentleman was observed on
whom every eye was turned. He had indeed chosen a most
singular position ; for, instead of sitting like the other auditors
Qn the seats in the gallery, he leaped over it, and, suspending

THE HIGH-SHEEIFF. 285

himself above the crowd, afforded wliat was an object of won-
der to the great body of the spectators, and of indignation to
the High-Sheriff. The attire of the individual who was thus
perched in this dangerous position was sufficiently strange.
He had a coat of Irish tabinet, with glossy trousers of the
same national material; he wore no waistcoat; a blue shirt,
lined with streaks of white, was open at his neck, in which the
strength of Hercules and the symmetry of Antinous were com-
bined ; a broad green sash, with a medal of " the order of
Liberators" at the end of it, hung conspicuously over his
breast ; and a profusion of black curls, curiously festooned
about his temples, shadowed a very handsome and expressive
countenance, a great part of which was occupied by whiskers
of a busy amplitude. " Who, sir, are you?"- exclaimed the
High-Sheriff, in a tone of imperious melancholy, which he had
acquired at Canton, Avhere he had long resided in the service
of the East India Company.

But I must pause here, and even at the hazard of breaking
the regular thread of the narration — I can not resist the
temptation of describing the High-Sheriff. When he stood up
with his wand of office in his hand, the contrast between him
and the aerial gentleman whom he was addressing was to the
highest degree ludicrous. Of the latter some conception has
already been given. He looked a chivalrous dandy, who,
under the most fantastical apparel, carried the spirit and intre-
pidity of an exceedingly fine fellow. Mr. High-Sheriff had,
at an early period of his life, left his native county of Clare,
and had migrated to China, where, if I may judge from his
manners and demeanor, he must have been in immediate com-
munication with a Mandarin of the first class, and made a
Chinese functionary his favorite model. I should conjecture
that he must long have presided over the packing of Bohea,
and that some tincture of that agreeable vegetable had been
infused into his complexion. An oriental sedateness and
gravity are spread over a countenance upon which a smile
seldom presumes to trespass. He gives utterance to intona-
tions which were originally contracted in the East, out have
keen since melodized bv his religious habits into a puritanical

286 CLARE ELECTION.

cliant in Ireland. The Chinese language i» monosyllabic, and
Mr Molony has extended its character to the English tongue ;
for he breaks all his words into separate and elaborate divisions,
to each of which he bestows a due quantity of deliberate into-
nation. Upon arriving in Ireland, he addicted himself to
godliness, having previously made great gains in China, and
he has so contrived as to impart the cadences of Wesley to the
pronunciation of Confucius.

Such was the aspect of the great public functionary, who,
rising with a peculiar magisteriality of altitude, and stretching
forth the emblem of his power, inquired of the gentleman who
was suspended from the gallery who he was. " My name
is O'Gorman Mahon," was the reply, delivered with a firmness
which clearly sjiowed that the person who had conveyed this
piece of intelligence thought very little of a High-Sheriff and
a great deal of O'Gorman Mahon. The Sheriff had been
offended by the general appearance of Mr. Mahon, who had
distracted the public attention from his own contemplation ;
but he was particularly irritated by observing the insurgent
symbol of " the Order of Liberators" dangling at his breast.*
"I tell that gentleman," said Mr. Molony, " to take off that
badge." There was a moment's pause, and then the following
answer was slowly and articulately pronounced: "This gen-
tleman" (laying his hand on his breast) " tells that gentleman"
(pointing with the other to the Sheriff) " that if that gentleman
presumes to touch this gentleman, this gentleman will defend
himself against that gentleman, or any other gentleman, while
he has got the arm of a gentleman to protect him." This ex-

* The Order of Liberators arose out of the contested election for the county
of Waterford, in 1826, when Mr. Villiers Stuart (subsequently raised to the
peerage) defeated Lord George Beresford, brother to the Marquis of Waterford.
The forty-shilling freeholders having thus beaten down what was called " the
Beresford tyranny," O'Connell instituted the Order of Liberators, of which he
was Grand-Master, to commemorate the patriotic deed. Whoever, being of
good character, had rendered a service to Ireland, was entitled to wear tho
medal, attached to a broad green riband. After Clare Election, it was resolved,
at a Chapter of the Order, over which Mr. Lawless presided, that four thou-
sand medals should be struck, for the purpose of distribution among the liberal
ojectors of Clare. — M.

SMITH O'BBIEN. 287

traordinary sentence was followed by a loud burst of applause
from all parts of the courthouse. The High-Sheriff looked
aghast. The expression of self-satisfaction and magisterial
complacency passed off of his visage, and he looked utterly
olank and dejected. After an interval of irresolution, down
he sat. " The soul" of O'Gorman Mahon (to use Curran's ex-
pression) " walked forth in its own majesty ;" he looked " re-
deemed, regenerated, and disenthralled." The medal of " the
Order of Liberators" was pressed to his heart. O'Connell sur-
veyed him with gratitude and admiration ; and the first blow
was struck, which sent dismay into the heart of the party of
which the Sheriff was considered to be an adherent.

This was the opening incident of this novel drama. When
the sensation which it had created had in some degree sub
sided, the business of the day went on. Sir Edward O'Brien
proposed' Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald as a proper person to serve in
Parliament. Sir Edward had upon a former occasion been the
vehement antagonist of Mr. Fitzgerald, and in one instance a
regular battle had been fought between the tenantry of both
parties. It was supposed that this feud had left some acrimo-
nious feelings which were not quite extinct behind, and many
conjectured that the zeal of Sir Edw^ard in favor of his competi-
tor was a little feigned. This notion was confirmed by the
circumstance that Sir Edward O'Brien's son (the member for
Ennis) had subscribed to the Catholic rent, was a member of
the Association, and had recently made a vigorous speech in
Parliament in defence of that body.* It is, however, probable

* William Smith O'Brien, of Cahermoyle, Clare county, second son of the
late Sir Edward O'Brien, was born on October 17, 1803. He entered Parlia-
ment early, and soon attached himself to the popular cause. His ablest speech
in Parliament was when moving for an inquiry into the state of Ireland. It
was a clear and forcible statement of Iiush grievances, and caused a prolonged
and exciting discussion. The Repeal agitation of 1843-'4 made him a con-
vert, and he took his seat in Conciliation Hall amid much applause, as his
adhesion, delayed till then, was evidently caused by conviction. While O'Con-
nell was in duresse, under illegal verdict and judgment, in 1844 his place in
Conciliation Hall was supplied by Smith O'Brien, who announced that, having
abandoned all hope of "justice to Ireland" fi-om the British Parliament, ho
withdrew from regular attendance in the House of Commons, and would now

288 CLARE ELECTION.

that the feudal pride of Sir Edward O'Brien, which was deeply
mortified by the defection of his vassals, absorbed every other
feeling, and that, however indifferent he might have been on
Mr. Fitzgerald's account, yet that he was exceedingly irritated
upon his own. He appeared at least to be profoundly moved,
and had not spoken above a few minutes when tears fell from
his eyes. He has a strong Irish character impressed upon him.
It is said that he is lineally descended from the Irish emperor,
Brian-Borne ; and indeed he has some resemblance to the sign-
post at a tavern near Clontarf, in which the image of that cel-
ebrated monarch is represented. He is squat, bluff, and impas-
sioned. An .expression of good-nature, rather than of good-
humor, is mixed up with a certain rough consciousness of his
own dignity, which in his most familiar moments he never
lays aside, for the Milesian predominates in his demeanor, and
his royal recollections wait perpetually upon him. ' He is a
,great favorite with the people, who are attached to the descend-
ants of the ancient indigenous families of the county, and who
see in Sir Edward O'Brien a good landlord, as well as the rep-
resentative of Brian Borne.

I was not a little astonished at seeing him weep upon the
hustings. It was, however, observed to me that he is given to
the " melting mood," although his tears do not fall like the
gum of " the Arabian tree." In the House of Commons he
once produced a great effect, by bursting into tears, while he
described the misery of the people of Clare, although, at the

apply his enci'gies to the attainment of a domestic legislature, for Ireland. In
18-16, still declining to attend, he refused to serve on a railway committee, and
was committed to confinement by the House of Commons for "contempt."
After a time he was liberated, but without any concession on his part. In
1848, having ardently adopted "physical force" principles, he unsuccessfully
attempted to liberate Ireland from legislative connection with Great Britain :
was appiehended, committed, and tried for high-treason; convicted, sentenced
to death (for which transportation for life was substituted), and hurriedly de-
ported to Van Dieman's Land, the very worst of the penal settlements, and
commonly called " Hell-upon-earth," and is now (January, 1854) a " convict"
there. Marked ability and the purest motives have always distinguished this
man, who loved Ireland " not wisely" (under acts of Parliament), " but tPQ
well"— M.

VESEY FITZGERALD. 289

game time, Ins granaries were full. It was said that liis Lust-
ings pathos was of the same quality, and arose from the pecu-
liar susceptibility of the lacrymatory nerves, and not from any
very nice fibres about the heart : still I am convinced that his
emotion was genuine, and that he .was profoundly touched,
He complained that he had been deserted by his tenants, al-
though he had deserved well at their hands ; and exclaimed that
the country was not one fit for a gentleman to reside in, when
property lost all its influence, and things were brought to such
a pass. The motion was seconded by Sir A. Fitzgerald in a
few words.* Mr. Gore, a gentleman of very large estate, took
occasion to deliver his opinions in favor of Mr. Fitzgerald ; and
Mr. O'Gorman Mahon and Mr. Steele proposed Mr. O'Connell.
It then fell to the rival candidates to speak; and Mr. Vesey
Fitzgerald, having been first put in nomination, first addressed
the freeholders. He seemed to me to be about five-and-forty
years of age, his hair being slightly marked with a little edg-
ing of scarcely-perceptible silver, but the care with which it
was distributed and arranged showed that the Cabinet Minis-
ter had not yet entirely dismissed his Lothario recollections. I
had heard, before I had even seen Mr. Fitzgerald, that he was
in great favor with the Calistas at Almack's; and I was not
surprised at it, on a minute inspection of his aspect and deport-
ment. It is not that he is a handsome man (though he is far
from being the reverse), but that there is an air of blended
sweetness and assurance, of easy intrepidity and gentle grace-
fulness about him, which are considered to be eminently win-
ning. His countenance, though too fully circular, and a little
tinctured Avith vermilion, is agreeable. The eyes are of bright
hazel, and have an expression of ever-earnest frankness, which
an acute observer might suspect, while his mouth is full of a
strenuous solicitude to please. The moment he rose, I per-
ceived that he was an accomplished gentleman ; and, when I
had heard him utter a few sentences, I was satisfied that he
was a most accomplished speaker.

* Sir Augustus Fitzgerald, of Newmarket-on-Fergus, county of Clare, a
Lieutenant-Gen eral in the army, was created Baronet in 1821, and died in
1834. — M.

VOL. II.— 13

290 CLAEE ELECTION.

He delivered one of the most effective and dexterous speeches
which it has ever been my good fortune to hear. There were
evident marks of deep pain and of feaf to be traced in his fea-
tures, which were not free from the haggardness of many an
anxious vigil ; but though he was manifestly mortified in the
extreme, he studiously refrained from all exasperating senti-
ment or expression. He spoke at first with a graceful melan-
choly, rather than a tone of impassioned adjuration. He inti-
mated that it was rather a measure of rigorous, if not unjustifi-
able policy, to display the power of the Association in throwing
an individual out of Parliament who had been the warm and
uniform advocate of the Catholic cause during his whole politi-
cal life. He enumerated the instances in which he had ex-
erted himself in behalf of that body which were now dealing
with him with such severity, and referred to his services with
regard to the College of Maynooth.

The part of his speech which was most powerful related to
his father. The latter had opposed the Union, and had many
claims upon the national gratitude. The topic was one which
required to be most delicately touched, and no orator could
treat it with a more exquisite nicety than Mr. Fitzgerald. He
became, as he "advanced, and the recollection of his father
pressed itself more immediately upon his mind, more impas-
sioned. At the moment he was speaking, his father, to whom
he is most tenderly attached, and by whom he is most beloved,
was lying upon a bed whence it was believed that he would
never rise ; and efforts had been made to conceal from the old
man the contest in which his son was involved.* It is impos-
sible to mistake genuine grief; and when Mr. Fitzgerald paused
for an instant, and, turning away, wiped off the tears that came
streaming from his eyes, he won the sympathies of every one
about him. There were few who did not give the same evi-
dence of emotion; and when he sat down, although the great
majority of the audience were strongly opposed to him, and
were enthusiasts in favor of the rival candidate, a loud and
unanimous burst of acclamation shook the courthouse.

The Right Honorable James Fitzgerald, who sacrificed place and its emol-
uments for his country, died in 1835, aged ninety-three. — M.

SPEECH.

291

Mr. O'CJonneil rose to address the people in reply.* It was
manifest tliat lie considered a great exertion to be requisite in
order to do away the impression which his antagonist had
produced. It was clear that he was collecting all his might,
to those who were acquainted with the workings of his physi-
ognomy. Mr. O'Connell bore Mr. Fitzgerald no sort of per-
sonal aversion, but he determined, in this exigency, to have
little mercy on his feelings, and to employ all the power of
vituperation of which he was possessed, against him. This
was absolutely necessary ; for if mere dexterous fencing had
been resorted to by Mr. O'Connell, many might have gone
away with the opinion that, after all, Mr. Fitzgerald had been
thanklessly treated by the Catholic body. It was therefore
disagreeably requisite to render him, for the moment, odious.
Mr. O'Connell began by awakening the passions of the multi-
tude in an attack on Mr. Fitzgerald's allies. Mr. Gore had
lauded him highly. This Mr. Gore is of Cromwellian descent,
and the people detest the memory of the Protector to this day.
There is a tradition (I know not whether it has the least
foundation) that the ancestor of this gentleman's family was a
nailer by trade in the Puritan army. Mr. O'Connell, without
any direct reference to the fact, used a set of metaphors, such
as "striking the nail on the head" — "putting a nail into a
coffin,'* which at once recalled the associations which were
attached to the name of Mr. Gore ; and roars of laughter as-
sailed that gentleman on every side. Mr. Gore has the char-
acter of being not only very opulent, but of bearing a re-

* O'Conn ell's personal appearance was greatly in his favor. He had that
massiveness of mould which the populace like to witness in one who aspires to
lead them. He had what singers call a chest-voice; deep, clear, musical, and
audible even in a whisper. At the Clare Election, in 1828, he was in his fifty
third year. Prince Puckler Muscau, who visited Ireland about this time, thus
described the Man of the People, in his Tour of a German Prince: " Daniel
O'Connell, is indeed, no common man, though the man of the commonalty.
His exterior is attractive, and the expression of intelligent good nature, united
with determination and prudence, which marks his countenance, is extremely
winning. It is impossible not to follow his powerful arguments with interest:
and such is the imutial dignity of his carriage, that he looks more like a gen
wral of Napoleon's than a Dublin advocate." — M.

292 CLARE ELECTION.

gard to his possessions proportioned to their extent. Nothing
I is so unpopular as prudence in Ireland ; and Mr. O'Connell
1 rallied" Mr. Gore to such a point upon this head, and that of
his supposed origin, that the latter completely sunk under the
attack. He next proceeded to Mr. Fitzgerald, and, having
drawn a picture of the late Mr. Perceval, he turned round and
asked of the rival candidate, with what face he could call
himself their friend, when the first act of his political life was
to enlist himself under the banners of "the bloody Perceval."
This epithet (whether it be well or ill deserved is not the ques-
tion) was sent into the hearts of the people with a force of
expression, and a furious vehemence of voice, that created a
great sensation among the crowd, and turned the tide against
Mr. Fitzgerald. " This too," said. Mr. O'Connell, " is the
friend of Peel — the bloody Perceval, and the candid and
manly Mr. Peel — and he is our friend ! and he is everybody's
friend ! The friend of the Catholic was the friend of the
bloody Perceval, and is the friend of the candid and manly
Mr. Peel!"

It is unnecessary to go through Mr. O'Connell's speech. It
was stamped with all his powerful characteristics,* and galled
Mr. Fitzgerald to the core. That gentleman frequently mut-
tered an interrogatory, " Is this fair?" when Mr. O'Connell
was using some legitimate sophistication against him. He
seemed particularly offended when his adversary said, " I
never shed tears in public," which was intended as a mockery
of Mr. Fitzgerald's references to his father. It will be thought
by some sensitive persons that Mr. O'Connell was not quite
warranted in this harsh dealing, but he had no alternative.
Mr. Fitzgerald had made a very powerful speech, and the
effect was to be got rid of. In such a warfare a man must not

* When O'Connell said that he *' was the best-abused man in the world,"
he might have added that he was the best-abusing. However, he had ample
precedents, one of which now occurs to me. Sir Archibald Macdonald (who
was Chief-Baron of the English Court of Exchequer, from 1793 to 1813) once
told Sir Fletcher Norton, afterward Speaker of the House of Commons, that he
was " a lazy, indolent, evasive, shuffling, plausible, artful, mean, confident,
cowardly, poor, pitiful, sneaking, and abject creature." This was in Parlia-
ment, where the decencies of speech are supposed to be observed ! — M.

SWEARING TO GAIN TIME.

pause in the selection of Lis weapons, and Mr. O'Connell is
not the man to hesitate in the use of the rhetorical sabre.

Nothing of any peculiar interest occurred after Mr. O'Con-
n ell's speech upon the first day. On the second the polling
commenced ; and on that day, in consequence of an expedient
adopted by Mr. Fitzgerald's committee, the parties were nearly
equal. A Catholic freeholder can not, in strictness, vote at an
election without making a certain declaration, upon oath, re-
specting his religious opinions, and obtaining a certificate of
his having done so from a magistrate. It is usual for candi-
dates to agree to dispense with the necessity of taking this
oath. It was, however, of importance to Mr. Fitzgerald to
delay the election; and with that view his committee required
that the declaration should be taken.* Mr. O'Connell's com-
mittee were unprepared for this form, and it was with the
utmost difficulty that magistrates could be procured to attend
to receive the oath. It was, therefore, impossible, on the first
day, for Mr. O'Connell to bring his forces in the field, and thus
the parties appeared nearly equal. To those who did not
know the real cause of this circumstance, it appeared ominous,
and the O'Connellites looked sufficiently blank; but the next
day everything was remedied. The freeholders were sworn
enmasse. They were brought into a yard enclosed within four
walls. Twenty-five were placed against each wall, and they
simultaneously repeated the oath. When one batch of swear-
ers had been disposed of, the person who administered the
declaration, turned to the adjoining division, and despatched
them. Thus he went through the quadrangle, and in the
course of a few minutes was able to discharge 0116 hundred
patriots upon Mr. Fitzgerald.

It may be said that an oath ought to be more solemnly
administered. In reply it is only necessary to observe, that

* Formerly, a County Election might occupy 15 days, in the mere polling of
the voters. The Reform Bill has changed that, and County Elections can not
now last more than two days (if there be a" contest), exclusive of the day on
which the candidates are publicly nominated, and that on which the Returning
officer declares the result of the electoral strife. If there be no opposition to
the candidate, the nomination, candidate's address, and declaration of the elec-
tion, need not occupy an hour. I have seen it hurried through in less time. — M.

294. CLAfcE fc

the declaration in question related principally to " the Pre-
tender," and when " the legislature persevere in compelling
the name of God to be thus taken in vain," the ritual becomes
appropriately farcical, and the manner of the thing is only
adapted to the ludicrous matter upon which it is legally
requisite that Heaven should be attested ! The oath which is
imposed upon a Roman Catholic is a violation of the first pre-
cept of the decalogue ! This species of machinery having
been thus applied to the art of swearing, the effects upon the
poll soon became manifest, and Mr. O'Connell ascended to a
triumphant majority. It became clear that the landlords had
lost all their power, and that their struggles were utterly
hopeless. Still they persevered in dragging the few serfs
whom they had under their control to the hustings, and in
protracting the election. It was Mr. Fitzgerald's own wish,
I believe, to abandon the contest, when its ultimate issue was
already certain • but his friends insisted that the last man
whom they could command should be polled out. Thus the
election was procrastinated.

In ordinary cases, the interval between the first and the last
day of polling is monotonous and dull ; but during the Clare
election so many ludicrous and extraordinary incidents were
every moment occurring, as to relieve any attentive observer
from every influence of ennui. The writer of this article was
under the necessity of remaining during the day in the Sheriff's
booth, where questions of law were chiefly discussed, but even
here there was much matter for entertainment. The sheriff
afforded a perpetual fund of amusement. He sat with his
wand of office leaning against his shoulder, and always ready
for his grasp. When there was no actual business going for-
ward, he still preserved a magisterial dignity of deportment,
and with half-closed eyelids, and throwing back his head, and
forming with his chin an obtuse angle with the horizon, re-
proved any indulgence in illicit mirth which might chance to
pass among the bar. The gentleman who were professionally
engaged having discovered the chief foible of the Sheriff,
which consisted in the most fantastical notions of himself, vied
with each other in playing upon this weakness. " I feel that

THE FIRST MAN IN TlIE COUNTY. 295

I address myself to the first man of tlie county," was tlie usual
exordium with which legal argument was opened.* The
Sheriff, instead of perceiving the sneer which involuntarily
played round the lips of the mocking sycophant, smiled with
an air of Malvolio condescension, and bowed his head. Then
came some noise from the adjoining booths, upon which the
Sheriff used to start up and exclaim, " I declare I do not think
that I am treated with proper respect — verily, I'll go forth
and quell this tumult — I'll show them I am the first man in
the county, and I'll commit somebody." With that " the first
man in the county," with a step slightly accelerated by his
resentment at a supposed indignity to himself, used to proceed
in quest of a riot, but generally returned with a good-humored

* The Sheriff's powers exceeded those of the Magistracy. In those days, nearly
every out-at-elbows Protestant, who, like Justice Shallow, could write himself
"in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, armigero" was made a magis-
trate, provided he had the requisite amount of Ascendency intolerance. The
vademecum of such justices, under which they dispensed law indifferently (very
indifferently, indeed), was MacNally's "Justice of the Peace in Ireland,"
which, with adaptations to the present state of the law, is yet in vogue and has
long been to magistrates in Ireland, what " Burn's Justice'' is to those of Eng-
land. As originally published, it was full of errors, and those who acted on it,
often found themselves drawn into lawsuits, as defendants. " What could make
you act so?" MacNally would ask. " Faith, sir, I acted on the advice of your
own book !" Not much taken aback, for such scenes were frequent, MacNally
would say, "As a human work, the book has errors, no doubt — but I shall cor-
rect them all when it comes to a second edition!" — Leonard MacNally was
very short and nearly as broad as long : his legs were of unequal length, and
he had a face which no washing could clean, and he wanted one thumb. He
had good eyes and an expressive countenance. He was lame, also, which
made Curran say, when he entered the lawyer's corps, in 1798, that he rnn a
chance of being shot for disobedience of orders, for that when the adjutant
would cry "march," MacNally would certainly " halt /" When he walked
rnpHly, he would take two thumping steps with the short leg, to bring up the
space made by the long one, and from this the bar nicknamed him " One pound
two." He was expelled by the bar-mess, on account of the dirtiness of his
person. Once when he went to France for a month, Curran said, " He has
faken a shirt and a guinea, arid he'll change neither until he comes back." The
well-known song, " The lass of Richmond Hill" was written by MacNally upon
his sweetheart, a Miss Janson, who sympathized with him in scribbling verses
and not washing her hands. They were married, lived happily, and, to the last,
weie economic in the use of soap! — M.

296

expression of face, observing : " It was only Mr. O'Connell.
and I must say when I remonstrated with him, he paid me
every sort of proper respect. He is quite a different person
from what I had heard. But let nobody imagine that I was
afraid of him. I'd commit him, or Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald, if I
was not treated with proper respect ; for by virtue of my office
I am the first man in the county." This phrase of the Sheriff
became so familiar, that a set of wags, who in the intervals of
leisure, had set about practising mimicry, emulated each othei
in repeating it, and succeeded in producing various pleasant
imitations of the " first man in the county."

A young gentleman (Mr. Nicholas Whyte) turned this talent
to a very pleasant and useful account. He acted as agent to
Mr. O'Connell, in a booth of which the chief officer, or Sheriff's
Deputy, as he is called, was believed to be a partisan of Mr.
Fitzgerald, and used to delay Mr. O'Connell's tallies. A tu-
mult would then ensue, and the deputy would raise his voice
in a menacing tone against tl^e friends of Mr. O'Connell. The
High-Sheriff himself had been accustomed to go to the entrance
of the different booths and to command silence with his long-
drawn and dismal ejaculations. When the deputy was bearing
it with a high hand, Mr. Whyte would sometimes leave the
booth, and standing at the outward edge of the crowd, just at
the moment that the deputy was about to commit some parti
san of Mr. O'Connell, the mimic would exclaim, in a death-bell
voice, " Silence, Mr. Deputy, you are exceedingly disorderly
— silence!" The deputy being enveloped by the multitude,
could not see the individual who thus addressed him, and be-
lieving it to be the Sheriff, sat down confounded at the admo-
nition, while Mr. O'Connell's tally went rapidly on, and the
disputed vote was allowed.

These vagaries enlivened occupations which in their nature
were sufficiently dull. But the Sheriff's booth afforded matter
more deserving of note than his singularities. Charges of un-
due influence were occasionally brought forward, which exhib-
ited the character of the election in its strongest colors.

One incident I particularly remember. An attorney em-
ployed by Mr. Fitzgerald rushed in and exclaimed that a priest

FATHER MtJBPHY OF COROFIK. 297

was terrifying the voters. This accusation produced a power-
ful effect. The counsel for Mr. O'Connell defied the attorney
to make out his charge. The assessor very properly required
that the priest should attend ; and behold Father Murphy of
Corofin ! His solemn and spectral aspect struck everybody.
He advanced with fearlessness to the bar, behind which the
Sheriff was seated, and inquired what the charge was which
had been preferred against him, with a smile of ghastly deris-
ion. "You were looking at my voters," cries the attorney.
"But I said nothing," replied the priest, " and I suppose that
I am to be permitted to look at my parishioners." — " Not with
such a face as that !" cried Mr. Dogherty, one of Mr. Fitzger-
ald's counsel. This produced a* loud laugh ; for, certainly, the
countenance of Father Murphy was fraught with no ordinary
terrors. "And this, then," exclaimed Mr. O'ConnelPs counsel,
" is the charge you bring against the priests! Let us see if
there be an act .of Parliament which prescribes that a Jesuit
shall wear a mask." At this instant, one of the agents of Mr.
O'Connell precipitated himself into the room, and cried out,
"Mr. Sheriff, we have no fair play — Mr. Singleton is frighten-
ing his tenants — he caught hold of one of them just now, and
threatened vengeance against him." This accusation came
admirably apropos. "What!" exclaimed the advocate of Mr.
O'Connell, " is this to be endured ? Do we live in a free coun-
try, and under a constitution "? Is a landlord to commit a bat-
tery with impunity, and is a priest to be indicted for his physi
ognomy, and to be found guilty of a look?" Thus a valuable
set-off against Father Murphy's eyebrows was obtained. After
a long debate, the assessor decided that, if either a priest or a
landlord actually interrupted the poll, they should be indis-
criminately committed ; but thought the present a case only
for admonition. Father Murphy was accordingly restored to
his physiognomical functions.

The matter had been scarcely disposed of, when a loud shout
was heard from the multitude outside the courthouse, which
had gathered in thousands, and yet generally preserved a pro-
found tranquillity. The large window in the Sheriff's booth
gave an opportunity of observing whatever took place in the

CLARE ELECTION.

square below ; and, attracted by the tremendous uproar, every-
body ran to see what was going on among the crowd. The
tumult was produced by the arrival of some hundred freehold-
ers from Kilrush, with their landlord, Mr. Vandeleur, at their
head. He stood behind a carriage, and, with his hat off, was
seen vehemently addressing the tenants who followed him.
It was impossible to hear a word which he uttered, but his
gesture was sufficiently significant : he stamped, and waved
his hat, and shook his clinched hand. While -he thus adjured
them, the crowd through which they were passing assailed
them with cries: "Vote for your country, boys! vote for the
old religion ! — Three cheers for liberty ! — Down with Vesey,
and hurra for O'Connell !" These were the exclamations which
rent the air as they proceeded. They followed their landlord
until they had reached a part of the square where Mr. O'Con
nell lodged, and before which a large platform had been erect-
ed, which communicated with the window of his apartment,
and to which he could advance whenever it was necessary to
address the people. When Mr. Vandeleur's freeholders had
attained this spot, Mr. O'Connell rushed forward on the plat-
form, and lifted up his arm. A tremendous shout succeeded,
and in an instant Mr. Vandeleur was deserted by his tenants.

This platform exhibited some of the most remarkable scenes
which were enacted in this strange drama of " The Clare Elec-
tion." It was sustained by pillars of wood, and stretched out
several feet from the wall to which it was attached. Some
twenty or thirty persons could stand upon it at the same time.
A large quantity of green boughs were turned about it, and,
from the sort of bower which they formed, occasional orators
•addressed the people during the day. Mr. M'Dermot, a young
gentleman from the county of Galway, of considerable fortune,
and a great deal of talent as a speaker, used to harangue the
multitude with great effect. Father Sheehan, a clergyman
iTom Waterford, who had been mainly instrumental in the
overthrow of the Beresfords, also displayed from this spot his
eminent popular abilities. A Dr. Kenny, a Waterford surgeon,
thinking that " the times Avere out of joint," came " to set them
right ' Father Maguire., Mr, Lawless, indeed the whole com-

A SOLEMN SCKNE. 29$

pany of orators, performed on tliis theatre witli indefatigable
energy.

Mirth and declamation, and anecdote and grotesque deline-
ation, and mimicry, were all blended together for the public
entertainment. One of the most amusing and attractive topics
was drawn from the adherence of Father Coffey to Mr. Fitz-
gerald. His manners, his habits, his dress, were all selected
as materials for ridicule and invective ; and puns, not the less
effective because they were obvious, were heaped upon his
name. The scorn and detestation with which he was treated M YL
by the mob clearly proved that a priest has no influence over / \A J
them when he attempts to run counter to their political pns- v '
sions. He can hurry them on in the career into which their
own feelings impel thern,.but he can not turn them into another
course. Many incidents occurred about this rostrum, which,
if matter did not crowd too fast upon me, I should stop to
detail. • I have not room for a minute narration of all that
was interesting at this election, which would occupy a vol-
ume, and must limit myself to one, but that a very striking
"circumstance.

The generality of the orators were heard with loud and
clamorous approbation ; but, at a late hour one evening, and
when it was growing rapidly dark, a priest came forward on
the platform, who addressed the multitude in Irish. There
was not a word uttered by the people. Ten thousand peasants
were assembled before the speaker, and a profound stillness
hung over the living but almost breathless mass. For minutes
they continued thus deeply attentive, and seemed to be struck
with awe as he proceeded. Suddenly I saw the whole multi-
tude kneel down, in one concurrent genuflection. They were
engaged in silent prayer, and when the priest arose (for he too
had knelt- down on the platform), they also stood up together
from their orison. The movement was performed with the
facility of a regimental evolution. I asked (being unacquainted
with the language) what it was tlrat had occasioned this ex-
traordinary spectacle; and Avas informed that the orator had
stated to the people that one of his own parishioners, who had
voted for Mr. Fitzgerald, had just died ; and he called upon

300 GLARE ELECTION.

the multitude to pray to God for the repose of his soul, and the
forgiveness of the offence which he had committed in taking
the bribery oath. Money, it seems, had been his inducement
to give his suffrage against Mr. O'Oonnell. Individuals, in
reading this, will exclaim, perhaps, against these expedients
for the production of effect upon the popular passions. Let mo
observe in parenthesis, that the fault of all this (if it is to.be
condemned) does not lie with the Association, with the priest-
hood, or with the people, but with the law, which has, by its
system of anomalies and alienations, rendered the national
mind susceptible of such impressions.

Thus it was the day passed, and it was not until nearly nine
o'clock that those who were actively engaged in the election
went to dinner. There a new scene was opened. In a small
room in a mean tavern, kept by a Mrs. Carmody, the whole
body of leading patriots, counsellors, attorneys, and agents,
with divers interloping partakers of election hospitality, were
crammed and piled upon one another, while Mr. O'Connell sat
at the head of the feast, almost overcome with fatigue, but yet
sustained by that vitality which success produces. Enormous
masses of beef, pork, mutton, turkeys, tongues, and fowl, were
strewed upon the deal-boards, at which the hungry masticators
proceeded to their operations. For some time nothing was
heard but the clatter of the utensils of eating, interrupted by
an occasional hobnobbing of " the counsellor," who, with his
usual abstinence, confined himself to water.

The cravings of the stomach having been satisfied, the more
intellectual season of potations succeeded. A hundred tum-
blers of punch, with circular slices of lemon, diffused the essence
of John Karleycorn in profuse and fragrant steams. Loud cries
for hot water, spoons, and materials, were everywhere heard,
and huge jugs were rapidly emptied and replenished by waiters,
who would have required ubiquity to satisfy all the demands
upon their attention. Toasts were then proposed and speeches
pronounced, and the usual " hip, hip, hurra !" with unusual ac-
companiments of exultation, followed. The feats of the day
were then narrated : the blank looks of Ned Hickman, whose
face had lost all its natural hilaritv, and looked at the election

A MODERN TANTALUS. 30J

like a full moon in a storm ; tLe shroud -colored physiognomy
of Mr. Sampson; and the tears of Sir Edward O'Brien, were
alternately the subjects of merriment. Mr. Whyte was then
called upon for an imitation of the Sheriff, when he used to
ride upon an elephant at Calcutta. But in the midst of this
conviviality, which was heightened by the consciousness that
il.ere was no bill to be paid by gentlemen who were the guests
of their country, and long before any inebriating effect was
observable, a solemn and spectral figure used to stride in, like
the ghost of Hamlet, and the same deep, churchyard voice
which had previously startled my ears, raised its awful peal,
while it exclaimed : " The wolf, the wolf is on the walk !
Shepherds of the people, what do you here? Is it meet that
you should sit carousing and in joyance, while the freeholders
remain unprovided, and temptation, in the shape of famine, is
among them1? Arise, I say, arise from your cups — the wolf,
the wolf is on the walk !"

Such was the disturbing and heart-appalling adjuration of
Father Murphy of Corofin, whose enthusiastic sense of duty
never deserted him, and who, when the' feast was unfinished,
entered like the figure of Death which the Egyptians employed
at their banquets. He walked round the room with a meas-
ured pace, like the envoy of another world, chasing the revel-
lers before him, and repeating the same dismal warning —
"The wolf, the wolf is on the walk!" Nothing was com-
parable to the aspect of Father Murphy upon these occasions,
except the physiognomy of Mr. Lawless.

This gentleman, who had been usefully exerting himself
during the whole day, somewhat reasonably expected that he
should be permitted to enjoy the just rewards of patriotism for
a few hours without any nocturnal molestation. It was about
the time that he had just commenced his second tumbler, and
when the exhilarating influence of his eloquent chalices was
beginning to display itself, that the dismal cry was wont to
come upon him. The look of piteous despair with which he
surveyed this unrelenting foe to conviviality, was almost as
ghastly at that of his merciless disturber; and as, like another
Tantalus, he saw the draughts of pleasantness hurled away, a

302 CLARE ELECTION.

schoolmaster, who sat by him, and who " was abroad" during
the election, used to exclaim : —

" A labris sitiens fugientia captat

Flumina."

It was in vain to remonstrate against Father Murphy, who
insisted that the whole company should go forth to meet " the
wolf upon the walk."

Upon going down stairs, the lower apartments were found
thronged with freeholders and priests. To the latter had been
assigned the office of providing food for such of the peasants
as lived at too great a distance from the town to return imme-
diately home ; and each clergyman was empowered to give
an order to the victuallers and tavern-keepers to furnish the
bearer with a certain quantity of meat and beei The use of
whiskey was forbidden.

There were two remarkable features observable in the dis-
charge of this office. The peasant, who had not tasted food
perhaps for twenty -four hours, remained in perfect patience
and tranquillity until his turn arrived to speak " to his rever-
ence;" and the Catholic clergy continued with unwearied
assiduity and the most, amiable solicitude, though themselves
quite exhausted with fatigue, in the performance of this neces-
sary labor. There they stayed until a late hour in the morn-
ing, arid until every claimant had been contented. It is not
wonderful that such men, animated by such zeal, and operating
upon so grateful and so energetic a peasantry, should have
effected what they succeeded in accomplishing.

The poll at length closed ; and, after an excellent argument
delivered by the assessor, Mr. Richard Keatinge, he instructed
the Sheriff to return Mr. O'Oonnell as duly elected.*

* The result of this election, was that the Duke of Wellington (who a few
months previously had declared that " he could not comprehend the possibility
of placing Roman Catholics in a Protestant legislature with any kind of safety,
and whose personal knowledge told him, that no King, however Catholic,
could govern his Catholic subjects without the aid of the Pope") became con-
vinced that the choice lay between Catholic Emancipation and Civil war. He
preferred the former, for which the repeal of the Test Act, in the previous year,
had prepared the English mind. On the 5th February, 1829, the King's speech,
at the op Miing of the Session recommended the suppression of the Catholic

ITS RESULTS. 303

The Courthouse was again crowded, as upon the first day,
and Mr. Fitzgerald appeared at the head of the defeated aris-
tocracy. They looked profoundly melancholy. Mr. Fitzgerald
himself did not affect to disguise the deep pain which he felt, -
but preserved that gracefulness and perfect good temper which
had characterized him during the contest, and which, at its
close, disarmed hostility of all its rancor. Mr. O'Oonnell made
a speech distinguished by just feeling and good taste, and

Association, and the subsequent consideration of Catholic disabilities, with a
view to their adjustment and removal. At the instance of Mr. Sheil, supported
by the Catholic Bishops, the Association dissolved itself. Mr. O'Connell, who
had arrived in London, to take his seat for Clare, as a Catholic — which he
contended he could do even under the old law — did not make the attempt, fearful
lest it should embarrass a Government determined, however tardily and by
compulsion, to do justice to Ireland. The Emancipation Bill became the law
of the land, after much angry and personal discussion. O'Connell expected,
as did the public at large, that he might take his seat under the new law. He
presented himself at the bar of the House to be sworn, but declining to take
the old oath (which declared the Catholic faith to be idolatrous), was directed
by the Speaker to withdraw. A motion that he should take the new oaths,
which were framed for the relief of Catholics, was negatived — on the ground
that Mr. O'Connell was elected under the old system. He was then heard at
the bar of the House, where he claimed his right to sit and vote, under the Act
of Union as well as under the new Relief Bill. When the form of oath was
again handed to him, he again refused to take it, saying that it contained one
assertion which he knew to be not true, and another which he believed to be
false. It was decided that he should not sit without taking the objectionable oath
— thus making the Emancipation Act have an ex post facto operation. A new
writ was issued for Clare. O'Connell again presented himself, and was again
elected — though a certain Mr. Toby Glascoek started from Dublin to oppose
him, but did not reach Ennis until the election was over. On this re-election
O'Connell took his seat, under the new act, and it was felt, even by the bulk
of their partisans, that Ministers had done wrong to him, insult to his constitu-
ents, and injury to ihemselves, by refusing to extend the privileges of their own
statute to Mr. O'Connell. It was a strange way to conciliate him, and thev
soon felt his power. Such a man, then virtually representing five millions of
Irish Catholics, and endowed with rare talents, as an orator and a lawyer,
speedily found his level in Parliament — and that was with the ablest and the
most influential. Smarting under the sense of wrong, in this instance of asking
him to swear an oath which the Legislature had just abrogated, it was only
natural, when the opportunity came, that O'Connell should be found vehement
and strong against Wellington and Peel. They had sowed the wind and ho
marie them reap the whirlwind. — M.

304 CLARE ELECTION.

begged that Mr. Fitzgerald would forgive him, if he had upon
the first day given him any sort of offence. Mr. Fitzgerald
came forward and unaffectedly assured him that whatever was
said should be forgotten. He was again hailed with universal
acclamation, and delivered a speech which could not surpass,
in good judgment and persuasiveness, that with which he had
opened the contest, but was not inferior to it. He left an
impression, which hereafter will, in all probability, render his
return for the County of Clare a matter of certainty ; and,
upon the other hand, I feel convinced that he has himself car-
ried away from the scene of that contention — in Avhich he sus-
tained a defeat, but lost no honor — a conviction that not only
the interests of Ireland, but the safety of the empire, require
that the claims of seven millions of his fellow-citizens should
be conceded. Mr. Fitzgerald, during the progress of the elec-
tion, could not refrain from repeatedly intimating his astonish-
ment at what he saw, and from indulging in melancholy fore-
bodings of the events, of which t'aese incidents are perhaps
but the heralds. To do him justice, he appeared at moments
utterly to forget himself, and to b« absorbed in the melancholy
presages which pressed themselves upon him. " Where is all
this to end ?" was a question frequently put in his presence,
and from which he seemed to shrink.

At the close of the poll, Mr. Sheil delivered a speech, in
which the- views of the writer of this article were expressed ;
and as no faithful account of what he said upon that occasion
appeared in the London papers, an extract from his observa-
tions will be justified, not by any merit in the composition as
a piece of oratory, but by the sentiments of the speaker, which
appear to me to be just, and were suggested by the scenes in
which he had taken a part. "The importance of the subject
may give a claim to attention, which in other instances the
speaker may not be entitled to command. He spoke in the
following terms : —

"I own that I am anxious to avail myself of this opportu-
nity to make reparation to Mr. Fitzgerald. Before I had the
honor of hearing that gentleman, and of witnessing the mild
find conciliatory demeanor by which he is distinguished, I ha$

SHEIL'S SPEECH. 305

in another place expressed myself with regard to his political
conduct, in language to which I believe that Mr. Fitzgerald
referred upon the first day of the election, and which was, per-
haps, too deeply tinctured with that virulence which is almost
inseparable from the passions by which this country is so
unhappily divided. It is but an act of justice to Mr. Fitzgerald
to say, that, however we may be under the necessity of op-
posing him as a Member of an Administration hostile to our
body, it is impossible to entertain toward him a sentiment of
individual animosity ; and I confess that, after having observed
the admirable temper with which he encountered his antag-
onists, I can not but regret that, before I had the means of
forming a just estimate of his personal character, I should have
indulged in remarks in which too much acidity may have
been infused.

4< The situation in which Mr Fitzgerald was placed was
peculiarly trying to his feelings. He had been long in pos-
session of this County. Though we considered him as an
inefficient friend, we were not entitled to account him as an
opponent. Under these circumstances, it may have appeared
harsh, and perhaps unkind, that we should have selected him
as the first object for the manifestation of our power; another
would have found it difficult not to give way to the language
of resentment and of reproach ; but, so far from doing so, his
defence of himself was as strongly marked by forbearance as
it was by ability. I thought it, however, not altogether impos
sible that, before the fate of this election was decided, Mi
Fitzgerald might have been merely practising an expedient
of wily conciliation, and that, when he appeared so meek and
self-controlled in the midst of a contest which would have pro-
voked the passions of any ordinary man, he was only stifling
his resentment, in the hope that he might succeed in appeasing
the violence of the opposition with which he had to contend.
But Mr. Fitzgerald, in the demeanor which he has preserved
to-day, after the election has concluded with his defeat, has
given proof that his gentleness of deportment was not affected
and artificial ; and, now that he has no object to gain, we can
jipt but give him as amule credit for his sincerity, as we

306 CLARE ELECTION.

give him for that persuasive gracefulness by which his man-
ners are distinguished. Justly has he said that he has not
lost a friend in this country; and he might have added, that,
so far from having incurred any diminution of regard among
those who were attached to him, he has appeased, to a great
extent, the vehemence of that political enmity in which the
associate of Mr. Peel was not very unnaturally held.

" But, Sir, while I have thus made the acknowledgment
which was due to Mr. Fitzgerald, let me not disguise my own
feelings of legitimate, but not, I hope, offensive exultation, at
the result of this great contest, that has attracted the attention
of the English people beyond all example. I am not mean
enough to indulge in any contumelious vaunting over one who
has sustained his defeat with so honorable a magnanimity.
The victory which has been achieved has been obtained, not
so much over Mr. Fitzgerald, as over the faction with which I
excuse him, to a great extent, for having been allied. A great
display of power has been made by the Catholic Association,
and that manifestation of its influence over the national mind
I regard as not only a very remarkable, but a very momentous
incident. Let us consider what has taken place, in order that
we may see this singular political phenomenon in its just light.
It is right that we attentively survey the extraordinary facts
'before iis, in order that we may derive from them the moral
admonitions which they are calculated to supply. What then
has happened 1 Mr. Fitzgerald was promoted to a place in
the Duke of Wellington's councils, and the representation of
this great County became vacant. The Catholic Association
determined to oppose him, and at first view the undertaking
seemed to be desperate. Not a single Protestant gentleman
could be procured to enter the lists, and, in the want of any
other candidate, Mr. O'Connell stood forward on behalf of the
people. Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald came into the field encom-
passed with the most signal advantages. His father is a gen-
tleman of large estate, and had been long and deservedly
popular in Ireland. Mr. Fitzgerald himself, inheriting a por-
tion of the popular favor with a favorite name, had for twenty
years been placed in such immediate contiguity with power,

SHEIL'S SPEECH. 30?

tliat lie was enabled to circulate a large portion of the influ-
ence of Government through this fortunate district. There is
scarcely a single family of any significance among you which
does not labor under Mr. Fitzgerald's obligations. At this
moment it is only necessary to look at him, with the array of
aristocracy beside him, in order to perceive upon what a high
position for victory he was placed. He stands encompassed
by the whole gentry of the County of Clare, who, as they
stood by him in the hour of battle, come here to cover his
retreat. Almost every gentleman of rank and fortune appears
as his auxiliary ; and the gentry, by their aspect at this instant,
as well as by their devotedness during the election, furnish evi-
dence that in his person their own cause was to be asserted.

"To this combination of favorable circumstances — to the
promising friend, to the accomplished gentleman, to the elo-
quent advocate, at the head of all the patrician opulence of
the county, what did we oppose ? We opposed the power of
the Catholic Association, and with that tremendous engine we
have beaten the Cabinet Minister, and the phalanx of aris-
tocracy by which he is surrounded, to the ground. Why do I
mention these things'? Is it for the purpose (God forbid that
it should) of wounding the feelings or exasperating the passions
of any man ? No ! but in order to exhibit the almost marvel-
lous incidents which have taken place, in the light in which
they ought to be regarded, and to present them in all their
appalling magnitude. Protestants who hear me, gentlemen
of the county Clare, you whom I address with boldness, per-
haps, but certainly not with any purpose to give you offence,
let me entreat your attention. A baronet of rank and fortune,
Sir Edward O'Brien, has asked whether this was a condition
of things to be endured ; he has expatiated upon the extraor-
dinary influence which has been exercised in order to effect
these signal results ; and, after dwelling upon many other
grounds of complaint, he has with great force inveighed against
the severance which we have created between the landlord and
tenant.

"Let it not be imagined that I mean to deny that we have
had recourse to the expedients attributed to us; on the con-

308 CLAfcE

trary, I avow it. We Lave put a great engine into action",
and applied the entire force of that powerful machinery which
the law has placed under our control. We are masters of the
passions of the people, and we have employed our dominion
with a terrible effect. But, sir, do you, or any man here, im-
agine that we could have acquired this dreadful ability to sun-
der the strongest ties by which the different classes of society
are fastened, unless we found the materials of excitement in
the state of society itself? Do you think that Mr. Daniel
O'Oonnell has himself, and by the single powers of his own
mind, unaided by any external co-operation, brought the coun-
try to this great crisis of agitation ? Mr. O'Connell, with all his
talents for excitation, would have been utterly powerless and
incapable, unless he had been allied with a great conspirator
against the public peace ; and I will tell you who that con-
federate is — it is the law of the land itself that has been Mr.
O'Connell's main associate, and that ought to be denounced
as the mighty agitator of Ireland. The rod of oppression is
the wand of this potent enchanter of the passions, and the
book of his spells is the Penal Code.* Break the wand of this

* It would swell these notes out of all proportion to attempt the biographies
of such men as the Duke of Wellington. He was in the Irish Parliament in 1790,
and voted for the extension of civil rights to the Catholics. The year after
his return from India (in 1806), he was appointed Irish Secretary (his eldest
son, the present Duke, was born, in Dublin, in 1807), and did not resign that
office until 1809, when his active service in the Peninsula sufficiently occupied
all his attention. When the war was ended, and the great soldier had to lay
aside his sword, he adopted the Anti-Catholic views of the civilians with whom
he was associated in the Government of the country. The result of Clare Elec-
tion in 1828, showed him that concession or civil war must ensue, and he
wisely adopted the former. Thomas Moore, who knew that

" Peace hath her victories, no less than War,"

introduced into one of his Irish Melodies, an address to Wellington, as pro
phetic as poetical : —

" And still the last crown of thy toils is remaining,
The grandest, the purest, even tfiou hast yet known ;
Though proud was thy task, other nations unchaining,
Far prouder to heal the deep wounds of thy own.
At the foot of that throne, for whose weal thou hast stood,
Go, plead for the land that first cradled thy fame."
Although he granted what they desired, the Irish Catholics had little regard

ME. SHEILAS SPEECH.

political Prospero, and take from him the volume of his magic,
and he will evoke the spirits which are now under his control
no longer. But why should I have recourse to illustration
which may be accounted fantastical, in order to elucidate what
is in itself so plain and obvious 1

" Protestant gentlemen, who do me the honor to listen to me,
look, I pray you, a little dispassionately at the real causes of
the events which have taken place among you. I beg of you to
put aside your angry feelings for an instant, and believe me
that I am far from thinking that you have no good ground for
resentment. It must be most painful to the proprietors of this
county to be stripped in an instant of all their influence ; to
be left destitute of all sort of sway over their dependents, and
to see a few demagogues and priests usurping their natural
authority. This feeling of resentment must be aggravated by
the consciousness that they have not deserved such a return
from their tenants ; and as I know Sir Edward O'Brien to be
a truly benevolent landlord, I can well conceive that the ap-
parent ingratitude with which he was treated, has added to
the pain which every landlord must experience ; and I own
that I was not surprised to see tears bursting at his eyes, while
his face was inflamed with the emotions to which it was not in
human nature that he should not give way. But let Sir Ed-
ward O'Brien and his fellow-proprietors, who are gathered
about him, recollect that the facility and promptitude with
which the peasantry have thrown off their allegiance, are ow-
ing not so much to any want of just moral feeling on the part
of the people, as to the operation of causes for which the peo-

for " The Duke." They had got an idea that he had denied that he was an
Irishman, and this was strengthened, in 1821, by his not accompanying George
[V. on his visit to Ireland. The Duke of Wellington died, September 14, 1852,
aged eighty-three. — It may be worth mentioning that shortly before his death,
when the comparative merits of modern generals were discussed, the Duke
said, '* The greatest man of the lot, is Zachary Taylor, the American. In sight
of the Mexicans, who had a vast 8T periority of men and artillery, he held a
council of war, and the general ophi, >n was that he should not risk a contest.
'Gentlemen,' said Taylor, 'I adjourn this council, until tomorrow — after the
buttle.1 He won the battle agniust immense odds, and had great courage to
run the risk, against advice. Thai was a true commander." — M.

310 CLARE ELECTION.

pie are not to blame. In no other country, except in this,
would such a revolution have been effected. Wherefore?—*
Because in no other country are the people divided by the law"
from their superiors, and cast into the hands of a set of men,
who are supplied with the means of national excitement by
the system of government under which we live.

" Surely no man can believe that such an anomalous body as
the Catholic Association could exist, excepting in a commu-
nity which had been alienated from the state by the state itself.
The discontent and the resentment of seven millions of the
population have generated that domestic government, which
sways through the force of public opinion, and uses the na-
tional passions as the instruments for the execution of its will.
From that body there has now been issuing, for many years,
a continuous supply of exciting matter, which has overflowed
the nation's mind. The lava has covered and inundated the
whole country, and is still flowing, and will continue to flow,
from its volcanic source. But, if I may so say, the Associa-
tion is but the crater in which the fiery matter finds a vent,
while its fountain is in the depth of the law itself. It would
be utterly impossible, if all men were placed upon an equality
of citizenship, and there was no exasperating distinctions
among us, to create any artificial causes of discontent. Let
men declaim for a century with far higher powers than any
Catholic agitator is endowed with, and if they have no real
ground of public grievance to rest upon, their harangues will
be empty sound and idle air. But when what they tell the
people is true — when they are sustained by substantial facts,
then effects are produced, of which what has taken place at
this election is only an example. The whole body of the peo-
ple being previously inflamed and rendered susceptible, the
moment any incident, such as this election, occurs, all the
popular passions start simultaneously up, and bear down every
obstacle before them. Do not, therefore, be surprised that the
peasantry should thus at once throw off their allegiance to you,
when they are under the operation of emotions which it would
be wonderful if they could resist. The feeling by which they
are now actuated, would make them not only vote against

Mfe. SHEILA SPEECti.

Ineir landlords, but would make them rush into the field, scale
the batteries of a fortress, and mount the breach ; and, gentle-
men, give me leave now to ask you, whether, after a due re-
flection upon the motives by which your vassals (for so they
are accounted) are governed, you will be disposed to exercise
any measure of severity in their regard 1

"I hear it said, that before many days go by, there will be
many tears shed in the hovels of your slaves, and that you
will take a terrible vengeance of their treason. I trust in God
that you will not, when your own passions have subsided, and
your blood has had to cool, persevere in such a cruel, and, let
me add, such an unjustifiable determination. Consider, gen-
tlemen, whether a great allowance should not be made for the
offence which they have committed. If they are, as you say
they are, under the influence of fanaticism, I would say to
you, that such an influence affords many circumstances of ex-
tenuation, and that you should forgive them, 'for they know
not what they do.' They have followed their priests to tl>e
hustings, and they would follow them to the scaffold. But
you will ask, wherefore should they prefer their priests to
their landlords, and have purer reverence for the altars of their
religion, than for the counter in which you calculate your
rents? Ah, gentlemen, consider a little the relation in which
the priest stands toward the peasant. Let us put the priest
into one scale, and the landlord into the other, and let us see
which should preponderate?

44 1 will take an excellent landlord and an excellent priest.
The landlord shall be Sir Edward O'Brien, and the priest
shall be Mr. Murphy of Corofin. Who is Sir Edward O'Brien ?
A gentleman who has a great fortune, who lives in a splendid
mansion, and who, from the windows of a palace, looks upon
possessions almost as wide as those which his ancestors beheld
from the summit of their feudal towers. His tenants pay him
their rent twice a-year, and they have their land at a moder-
ate rate. So much for the landlord. I now come to Father
Murphy of Corofin. Where does he reside? In an humble
abode, situated at the foot of a mountain, and in the midst of
dreariness and waste. He dwells in the midst of his parish-

CLAfcE ELECTlOtf.

loners, and is their benefactor, their friend, their father. It ia
not only in the actual ministry of the sacraments of religion
that he stands as an object of affectionate reverence among
them. I saw him, indeed, at his altar, surrounded by thou-
sands, and felt myself the influence of his contagious ard en-
thusiastic devotion. He addressed the people in the midst
of a rude edifice, and in a language which I did not understand ;
but I could perceive what a command he has over the minds
of his devoted followers. But it is not merely as the celebra-
tor of the rites of Divine worship that he is dear to his flock;
he is their companion, the mitigator of their calamities, the
soother of their afflictions, the trustee of their hearts, the re-
pository of their secrets, the guardian of their interests, and
the sentinel of their death-beds. A peasant is dying : in the
midst of the winter's night, a knock is heard at the door of the
priest, and he is told that his parishioner requires his spiritual
assistance : the wind is howling, the snow descends upon the
hills, and the rain and stofm beat against his face ; yet he
goes forth, hurries to the hovel of the expiring wretch, and,
taking his station beside the mass of pestilence of which the
bed of straw is composed, bends to receive the last whisper
which unloads the heart of its guilt, though the lips of tha sin-
ner should be tainted with disease, and he should exhale mor-
tality in his breath.

" Gentlemen, this is not the language of artificial declama-
tion— this is not the mere extravagance of rhetorical phrase.
This, every word of this, is the truth — the notorious, palpable,
and unquestionable truth. You know it, every one of you
know it to be true ; and now let me ask you can you wonder
for a moment that the people should be attached to their clergy,
and should follow their ordinances as if they were the injunc-
tions of God 1 Gentlemen, forgive me, if I venture to suppli-
cate, on behalf of your poor tenants, for mercy to them. Par-
don them, in the name of that God who will forgive you your
offences in the same measure of compassion which you will
show to the trespasses of others. Do not, in the name of that
Heaven before whom every one of us, whether landlord, priest,
or tenant, must at last appear — do not prosecute these poor

M& SHEILAS SPEECtt. 313

people : doii't throw their children out upon the public road —
don't send them forth to starve, to shiver, and to die !

" For God's sake, Mr. Fitzgerald and for your own sake,
and as you are a gentleman and a man of honor, interpose
your influence with your friends, and redeem your pledge. 1
address myself personally to you. On the first day of the elec-
tion you declared that you would deprecate all persecution by
the landlords, and that you were the last to wish that harsh
and vindictive measures should be employed. I believe you;
and now I call upon you to redeem that pledge of mercy, to
fulfil that noble engagement, to perform that great moral prom-
ise. You will cover yourself with honor' by so doing, in the
same way that you will share in the ignominy that will attend
upon any expedients of rigor. Before you leave this country
to assume your high functions, employ yourself diligently in
this work of benevolence, and enjoin your friends, with that
eloquence of which you are the master, to refrain from cruelty,
and not to oppress their tenants. Tell them, sir, that instead
of busying themselves in the worthless occupation of revenge,
it is much fitter that they should take the political condition
of their country into their deep consideration. Tell them that
they should address themselves to the Legislature, and implore
a remedy for these frightful evils. Tell them to call upon the
men, in whose hands the destiny of this great empire is placed,
to adopt a system of conciliation and of peace, and to apply
to Ireland the great canon of political morality which has
been so powerfully expressed by the poet — 'Pads imponere
morem.' Our manners, our habits, our laws, must be changed.
The evil is to be plucked out at the root. The cancer must
be cut out of the breast of the country. Let it not be imagined
that any measure of disfranchisement, that any additional
penalty, will afford a remedy. Things have been permitted to
advance to a height from which they can not be driven back.

" Protestants, awake to a sense .of your condition. Look
round you. What have you seen during this election ? Enough
to make you feel that this is not mere local excitation, but that
seven millions of Irish people are completely arrayed and or-
ganized. That which you behold in Clare, you would behold,

VOL. II.— 14

314 CLARE ELECTION.

under similar circumstances, in every county in tlie kingdoms
Did you mark our discipline, our subordination, our good order>
and that prophetic tranquillity which is far more terrible than
any ordinary storm ? You have seen sixty thousand men un-
der our command, and not a hand was raised, and not a forbid-
den word Avas uttered, in that amazing multitude. You have
beheld an example of our power in the almost miraculous so-
briety of the people. Their lips have not touched -that infu-
riating beverage to which they are so much attached, and their
habitual propensity vanished at our command. What think
you of all this 1 Is it meet and wise to leave us armed with
such a dominion ? Trust us not with it ; strip us of this appal-
ling despotism ; annihilate us by concession ; extinguish us
with peace; disarray us by equality ; instead of angry slaves,
make us contented citizens : if you do not, tremble for the
result !"

THE PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.

ANXIOUS to witness the great assembly of " the men of Kent,"
of which the High-Sheriff had called a meeting (having ap-
pointed twelve o'clock upon Friday the 24th for the immense
gathering), I proceeded from Rochester to Maidstone at an
early hour.* Upon my way, I saw the evidences of prodigious

* The Repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts, early in 1828, with little
more than a shadow of resistance from the Wellington Ministry, was a sort of
political " writing on the wall," to the Protestant Ascendency people throughout
the United Kingdom. To check any further concessions, particularly as the
Catholics had more and juster claims than the Dissenters, it was resolved to
establish Brunswick Clubs, which were practically much the same, minus the *)
secret oaths and obligations, as the Orange Lodges, put down by a prohibitory •
and penal statute in 1825. The Duke of Cumberland (brother of the reigning '
sovereign) was the patron of these associations, and Lords Winchilsea, Ken-
yon, and other persons of rank and property, were openly members. Clare
Election, ending July 5, 1828, on the victory of Q'Connell, a Catholic, excited
the anger and apprehension of these ultra-Protestant agitators, who determined
to hold public meetings, in defence of Protestant Ascendency in all the English
counties. The first of these came off in Kent, on the 24th of October, 1828,
on Penenden Heath, and from twenty thousand to thirty thousand persons were
present. Mr. Sheil, whose graphic description brings the scene before us, hap-
pened in London when the meeting was about taking place, and several friends
of civil and religious liberty strongly pressed him to attend, as a speaker, con-
fident that he might thereby advance the cause which they had at heart. He
consented, prepared a long and elaborate speech, obtained the small landed
qualification requisite to allow him to address the meeting as a freeholder, and
proceeded to Penenden Heath, where the clamor was so great that he could
utter only a few sentences, though what he intended to say was printed, and
distributed far and wide. The Penenden Heath Meeting, however, did not
encourage similar attempts elsewhere, and Protestant Ascendency made no fur-
ther public display until February, 1829, when Catholic Emancipation was pro-
posud as a Government measure. — The newspapers of the day amused thorn-

316 PENENDEJST HEATH MEETING.

exertion to call tlie yeomanry together, and from tlie summit
of a hill that surmounts a beautiful valley near Maidstone, I
beheld a long array of wagons moving slowly toward the spot
which had been fixed by the High-Sheriff for the meeting.
The morning was peculiarly fine and bright, and had a rem-
nant of " summer's lingering bloom";" and the eye, through the
pure air, and from the elevated spot on which I paused to sur-
vey the landscape, traversed an immense and glorrous pros-
pect. The fertile county of Kent, covered with all the profu-
sion of English luxury, and exhibiting a noble spectacle of
agricultural opulence, was before me ; under any circumstances
the scene would have attracted my attention, but, upon the
occasion on which I now beheld it, it was accompanied by cir-
cumstances which greatly added to its influence, and lent to
the beauty of nature a sort of moral picturesque. The whole
population of an immense district seemed to have swarmed
from their towns and cottages, and filled the roads and ave-
nues which led to the great place of political rendezvous. In
the distance lay Penenden Heath ; and I could perceive that,
long before the hour appointed by the Sheriff for the meeting,
large masses had -assembled upon the field, where the struggle
between the two contending parties was to be carried on.

After looking upon this extraordinary spectacle, I proceeded
on my journey. I passed many of " the men of Kent," who
were going on foot to the meeting;* but the great majority
were conveyed in those ponderous teams which are used for
the purposes of conveying agricultural produce : and, indeed,
" the men of Kent," who were packed up in those vehicles,
seemed almost as unconscious as the ordinary burdens with
which their heavy vehicles are laden. The wagons went on
in their dull and monotonous rotation, filled with human beings,

selves with ridiculing Mr. Sheil's printed but unspoken oration ; the public,
however, perused it eagerly, and multitudes of copies were circulated all over
tlie Kingdom. This is included in the volume of Sheil's published speeches,
and is in every way worthy of his great reputation for political rhetor 'c. — M.

* There is a difference between Men of Kent and Kentish men. The formei
are locally accounted superior to the latter. A Kentish man, is a native of
Kent county, born north of the river Medway ; a " Man of Kent" comes from
||)(! 4i?trict south of that riverf which includes two thirds of that county. — ]VJ

THE GATHERING. 317

whose faces presented a vacant blank, in winch it was impos-
sible to trace the smallest interest or emotion. They did not
exchange a word with each other, but sat in their wagons,
with a half-sturdy and half fatuitous look of apathy, listening
to the sound of the bells which were attached to the horses by
which they were drawn, and as careless as those animals of
the events in which they were going to take a part. It was
easy, however, to perceive to which faction they belonged;
for poles were placed in each of these wagons, with placards
attached to them, on which directions were given to the loads
of freeholders to vote for their respective proprietors. I ex-
pected to have seen injunctions to vote for Emancipation, or
for the Constitution, or against Popery and Slavery. These
ordinances would, in all likelihood, have been above the com-
prehension of " the men of Kent ;" and, accordingly, the more
intelligible words, " Vote for Lord Winchilsea," or " Vote for
Lord Darnley,"* were inscribed upon the placards.

I proceeded to my place of destination, and reached Penen-
den Heath. It is a gently-sloping amphitheatrical declivity,
surrounded with gradually-ascending elevations of highly-cul-
tivated ground, and presenting in the centre a wide space,
exceedingly well calculated for the holding of a great popular
assembly. On arriving, I found a great multitude assembled
at about an hour before the meeting. A large circle was
formed, with a number of M7agons placed in close junction to
each other, and forming an area capable of containing several
thousand persons. There was an opening in the spot immedi-
ately opposite the Sheriff for the reception of the people, who
were pouring into the enclosure, and had already formed a
dense mass. The wagons were laden with the better class of
yeomen, with the gentry at their head. A sort of hustings was

* John Stuart Bligh, fourth Earl of Darnley, was born in 1767, and died in
1831. In 1829, he claimed the Scottish Dukedom of Lennox, as next heir, in
default of male issue for the last of the Stuarts. Cardinal York, who died in
1807 and was the next-of-kin (legitimate) of King Charles II., had been
duly served heir to the peerage. The House of Lords have not come to a de
cision on this claim. The Darnley property in Kent, is Chobham Hall, near
Gravesend. The Earldom is Irish, but its holder sits in the Lords, for his
English barony of Clifton, — Af .

318 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.

raised for the Sheriff and his friends, with chairs in the front,
and from this point the wagons branched off in two wings —
that on the left of the Sheriff being allotted to the Protestant,
and the right having been appropriated to the Catholic party.
The wagons bore the names of the several persons to whom
they belonged, and were designated as " Lord Winchilsea V
or "Lord Darnley's," or as "The Committee's," and ensigns
were displayed from them which indicated the opinions of their-
respective occupiers.

The moment I ascended one of the wagons, where all per-
sons were indiscriminately admitted, I saw that the Protest-
ants, as they called themselves, had had the advantage in
preparation, and that they were well arrayed and disciplined.
Of this the effects produced by Lord Winchilsea's arrival
afforded strong propf ; for the moment he entered, there was a
simultaneous waving of hats by his party, and the cheering
was so well ordered and regulated, that it was manifest that
every movement of the faction was preconcerted and arranged.
The appearance of Lord Darnley, of Lord Radnor,* and the
other leaders of the Catholic party, was not hailed with the
same concurrence of applause from their supporters; not that
the latter were not warmly zealous, but that they had not been
disciplined with the same care.

I anxiously watched for the coming of Cobbett and of Hunt
I not only desired to see two persons of whom I had heard so
much, but to ascertain the extent of their influence upon the
public mind. Cobbett, I understood, had, before the meeting
took place, succeeded in throwing discord into the ranks of the
liberal party. He had intimated that he would move a peti-
tion against tithes. To this Lord Darnley vehemently ob-
jected, and asked very reasonably how he could, as a peer of

* William Pleydell Bouverie, third Earl of Radnor, was born in 1779, and
sat in the House of Commons, from an early age until 1828. He was known,
as a Commoner, by his courtesy title of Viscount Folkstone, during his father's
life. He took a leading part, in 1809, in the investigation of the charges
against the late Duke of York, of having allowed Mary Anne Clarke, his mistress,
to dispose of commissions in the army, by her influence. Whither in the Upper
or Lower House, the speeches and votes of Lord Radnor havo generally been
in aid of the liberal cause.— M.

WILLIAM coBBF/rr. 319

the realm, co-operate in such a proposal. Several others, how
ever, although they greatly disapproved of Cobbett's proposi-
tion in the abstract, were disposed to support any expedient
which would have the effect of extinguishing the Brunswick
faction. It had therefore been decided first, to try whether
the Brunswick measure could not be got rid of without having
recourse to any substitute, and, in the event of failing in that
course, to sustain Cobbett's amendment. Cobbett had dined
the preceding day at Maid stone, with about a hundred farmers,
and had been very well received. He there gave intimations
of his intended proposition against the Church. His friends
said that he had devoted great care to his petition, and that he
plumed himself upon it. I thought it exceedingly probable
that he would succeed in carrying his measure, especially as
he had obtained a signal triumph at a meeting connected with
the Corn-Laws, and borne down the gentry before him. These
anticipations had greatly raised my curiosity about this singu-
lar person, and I watched the effect which his coming should
produce with some solicitude.

He at length arrived. Upon his entering the enclosure, I
heard a cry of " Cobbett, Cobbett !" and turning my eyes to
the spot from which the exclamation came, I perceived less
sensation than. I had expected to find.* Some twenty of the

* William Cobbett, son of a small farmer in Sussex, was born in 1762, and
enlisted as a private soldier, when he was about two-and -twenty years old. He
was sent with his regiment to British North America ; diligently educated him-
self as an English scholar; was raised by his good conduct to the rank of ser-
geant-major; obtained his discharge (with good-service certificate) sifter seven
years' service ; returned to England, and went to France to perfect himself in
French ; thence came to the United States, where, writing under the soubriquet
of "Peter Porcupine," he got into hot water; he again returned home, and
supported the Government in a daily paper called the Porcupine; changed thai
publication into Cobbetfs Weekly Register, in which he assailed the Ministry,
with much continuity and force; was prosecuted, and fined repeatedly, but
most heavily for comments on the illegal flogging of some militia-men at Ely,
for which he had to undergo two vears' imprisonment, with a fine of one thou-
sand pounds sterling; continued his Register, however, during his confinement,
and until what were called the " S' <. Acts" were passed to check him ; camo
back to America, whence his Register, still published in London, was duly
supplied with " copy," until his final return to England in 1819, bringing with

320 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.'

lowest class of freeholders made some demonstration of pleas-
ure at his appearance, and followed him as he made his way
toward a wagon on the right of the Sheriff. He was dressed
in a gray frieze coat, with a red handkerchief, which gave him
a very extraordinary aspect, and presented him in contrast
with the body of those who occupied the wagons, who, on ac-
count of the public mourning, were dressed in black. He
seemed in excellent health and spirits, for his cheeks were
almost as ruddy as his neckcloth, and set off his white hair,
while his eyes sparkled at the anticipation of the victory which
he was confident that he should obtain. He seemed to me to

him the bones of Thomas Paine ; successfully contested the representation of
Coventry, in 1820, and of Preston, in 1826 ; warmly supported the French
Revolution of July, 1830 ; was tried, in July, 1831, for the publication of " a
libel, with intent to raise discontent in the minds of the laborers in husbandry,
and to excite them to acts of violence, and to destroy cornstacks, machinery,
and other property;" defended himself so ably and boldly, that the jury declined
agreeing on a verdict of conviction ; and thus allowed him a victory over Lord
Grey's Ministry, who had prosecuted him. From that hour, his attacks on the
Grey Ministry were untiling. He travelled all over the country, lecturing
against them, and always with success. He continued his weekly attacks on
them, in his Register, and his exposure of ministerial nepotism and grasping
selfishness, as evidenced by " The Grey List," or schedule of places and sinecures
distributed among members and connections of the family of Earl Grey, had
a mighty influence in throwing that nobleman into the cold shade of unpopu-
larity, after the Reform Bill excitement had subsided. In December, 1832,
Cobbett was elected M. P. for Oldliam, in Lancashire, under the Reform Bill.
He was constant in his attendance, and a good man of business, but did not
succeed in Pai'liament — a motion of his for the impeachment of Sir Robert
Peel was a signal failure. The late hours and unwholesome atmosphere of the
House told against one who used to boast of rising at four and going to bed at
nine. In May, 1835, he was suddenly attacked with a disease of the throat,
which eventuated in his death, on June 17, 1835, aged seventy-three. In July,
1852, his second son, John Morgan Cobbett, was elected member for Oldham,
which he had unsuccessfully contested in July, 1835, on his father's death, as well
as in July, 1847. — William Cobbett was an inconsistent politician, very much
swayed by impulse and personal feeling, but, self-taught as he was, no English
writer of his time was master of a purer style of writing. Southey, the poet,
told me, in 1836, that since the time of Jeremy Taylor, no man had written
such pure, homely, and expressive English as William Cobbett. He had a
great love of the country, and some of his descriptions are landscapes in words.
A curious vein of egotism ran through all nis writings, and, strangely enough,
formed one of their leading attractions. — M.

WILLIAM COBBETT. 321

mistake the following* and acclamation of a few of the rabble for
the applauses of the whole meeting. When, however, he as-
cended the wagon, and stood before the assembly, he ought to
have discovered that he did not stand very high in the general
favor; for while the circle about him cheered him with rather
faint plaudits, the moment his tall but somewhat fantastical
figure was exhibited to the meeting, he was assailed by the
Brunswickers with the grossest insults, which, instead of exci-
ting the anger, produced a burst of merriment among the Cath-
olic party. "Down with the old bone grubber !" — "Oh, Oob-
bett, have you brought Burdett along with you?" — "Where's
your gridiron ?" — " Will you pay Burdett out of the next crop
of Indian corn ?" These, and other contumelies, were lavished
upon him by a set of fellows who were obviously posted in the
meeting, in order to assail their antagonists and beat them
down. Cobbett was so flushed with the certainty of success,
and so self-deluded by his egregious notions of his own impor-
tance, that his temper was not at first disturbed, but. looking
down triumphantly to those immediately about him, and draw-
ing forth a long petition, told them that he had brought them
something that should content them all. I surveyed him at-
tentively at this moment.

(Jobbett is generally represented as a man of rather a clown-
ish-looking demeanor; and I have read, in some descriptions
of him, that he could not, at first view, suggest any notion of
his peculiar intellectual powers. I do not at all agree in the
opinion. He has certainly a rude and rough bearing, and
afiects a heedlessness of form, amounting to coarseness and
rusticity. But it is only requisite to look at him, in order to
sec in the expression of his countenance the vigorous mind
with which he is endowed. The higher portion of his face is
not unlike Sir Walter Scott's, to whom he bears, especially
about the brow, a resemblance.* His eyes are more vivid

* There were several points of personal resemblance between Scott and Cob-
bett— so much so that when I first saw Cobbett, in 1830, I mistook him for Sii
Walter, whose acquaintance I had made, some time before, on his visit to Ire-
land. Scott was taller and more erect ; Cobbett looked like a plain, well-to-df
farmer. The expression of Scott's face indicated shrewdness and sagacity ; that

J.4*

PENENDTCN HEATH MEETING.

than the great author's, while the lower part of his countenance
is expressive of fierce and vehement emotions. His attire and
aspect certainly suggest, at 'first view, his early occupations,
and the predilections of his later life (for he is more attached
to agriculture than to politics) ; hut whoever looks at him nar-
rowly will see the impress of intellectual superiority upon his
countenance, and perceive, under his rude bearing, the pre-
dominance of mind. When he first addressed the people, he
was in exceedingly good humor ; and as he snapped his fingers,
and cried out, " Emancipation is all roguer}7 !" the laugh which
the recollection of his own devotedness to the Catholic cause
created, was echoed by his own merriment, and he seemed to
enjoy his political inconsistency as an exceeding good joke.
He told the people that he was well aware that the Sheriff in-
tended to adjourn the meeting, but that he would stay there,
and hold a meeting himself.

Next to Cobbett stood the great leader of the radicals, Mr.
Hunt.* A reconciliation has been recently effected between

of Cobbctt's denoted move of cunning — the look of a man determined not to
be taken in. Both wore very plain attire, and I never saw gloves with either.
Cobbett dressed like a Surrey farmer: Scott like a Border laird. — M.

* Henry Hunt, for a long time the leader of the Radical Reform movement
in England (hence the title of " Radicals"), was originally a fanner in Wilt-
shire. In his youth, he was such a strong loyalist, that, in 1801, when Napoleon
threatened to invade England, which threat did " fright the isle out of its pro-
priety," he offered the whole of his stock, valued at twenty thousand pounds
sterling, for the use of the Government, if needed, and engaged to enter, with
three of his servants all well mounted and equipped at his own cost, as volun-
teers into any regiment of horse that might make the first charge upon the
enemy. He joined the Mailborottgh troop of cavalry yeomanry, but a dispute
with Lord Bruce, its commander, caused him to challenge that officer, for
which he was tried, fined one hundred pounds, and impi-isoned for six weeks.
From this time he joined the party who demanded radical reform of all abuses
in Church and State. In August 16, 1819, he presided at a reform meeting
in St. Peter's fields, Manchester, where the Magistrates interrupted the pro-
ceedings by sending mounted yeomanry among the unarmed multitude, shooting
and sabring them in a brutal manner. This has long been called " The Mas-
sacre of Peterloo." The murdering magistrates escaped with impunity, but
Hunt was indicted as the ringleader of an unlawful assembly of the people, tried,
convicted, and sentenced to three years' imprisonment in Ilchester jail. Ho
3'ibsequently attempted to drive a trade by selling ground roasted corn, as a

323

tli em, and they stood togetlier in the front of the same wagon
before the people. I was surprised to find in Mr. Hunt, a man
of an exceedingly mild and gentle aspect, with a smooth and
almost youthful cheek, a bright and pleasant eye, a sweet and
urbane smile, and altogether a most gentlemanlike and dis-
arming demeanor. His voice too is exceedingly melodious,
and as soft as his manners. This Gracchus of Manchester is
utterly unlike the picture which the imagination is apt to form
of a tribune of the people ; and, indeed, I do not consider him
to possess the external qualifications of a great demagogue,
though he is certainly endowed with that plain and simple
eloquence which is so peculiarly effective Avith an English
multitude. Near Hunt and Cobbett, the Py lades and Orestes
of radicalism, stood Counsellor French,* an Irish Catholic
barrister, who is now a proselyte among the reformers, but
seems to have many of the qualities necessary to constitute an
apostle in the cause, and is likely one day to set up for himself.
In the wagon next that in which Cobbett, Parrel, and Hunt,

substitute for coffee, but the Excise interfered. Finally, he settled down into
a large manufacturer of " Hunt's Matchless Blacking." He made several at-
tempts to obtain a scat in Parliament, but was unsuccessful at Bristol, Westmin
ster, and Somersetshire. At last, in the borough of Preston, in Lancashire, the
potwallopers (every man who boiled a pot within its limits) elected him in
1830 and again in 1831 — the first time rejecting their previous member, Mr.
Stanley (Earl of Derby, in 1854) whose family had long all but nominated tho
members. Mr. Hunt, a popular open air speaker, by no means made his mark
in the legislature, but was quiet, and subdued, though consistent in the liberality
of his votes. He was nearly sixty years old when he entered Parliament, and
was too old to accommodate himself to its routine and requirements. In the
election of 1832, following the enactment of the Reform Bill, the electors of
" proud Preston," as the smoky place is called, did not re-elect Mr. Hunt
He died in February, 1835, aged sixty-two. In person he was tall and mus
cular. His oratory was singularly devoid of ornament, but he had a plain way
of putting facts, argument, and assertions, before his auditory, which had im-
mense force. He published his own Memoirs, while in prison, but their liter-
ary merit was small. At one time, he was the most popular man in .England',
and his summons would have collected a hundred thousand men, in the suburr>3
of London alone. — M.

* Counsellor French, who was a strong Catholic, held a public discussion at
Hammersmith, London, on points of religious faith and practice, with a Minis
ter of the Scotch Church, named Gumming. This was many years after Emm)
cipation was granted. Both claimed the victory — of course. — M.

324: PENENDKW HEATH

were placed, sat Mr. Slieil, the Irisli demagogue. Tins gentle-
man Avas said, by some people, to Lave been sent over by the
Association ; while others asserted, that he had of his own
accord embarked in the perilous enterprise of addressing "the
Men of Kent." There was a feeling of curiosity, mingled with
disrelish, produced by his appearance there. The English
Catholics had endeavored to dissuade him from the under-
taking; and Mr. Barrel, a gentleman of property in the
county, was particularly anxious that he should not attempt
to speak. Lord Darnley was also very adverse to this adven-
turous step, and so far from having given Mr. Sheil a freehold,
had intimated, I heard, that the death bed of the Duke of
York was not yet so much forgotten, that Mr. Sheil should
venture into such an assembly.* That gentleman sat in one
of the wagons, apparently careless of the impression which he
should produce ; but his pale and bilious face, in which dis-
content and solicitude, mingled with a spirit of sardonic viru-
lence, are expressed, and his restless and unquiet eye, gave
indications that he was annoyed at the opprobrious epithets
which were showered upon him, and that he was anxious about
the event, as it should personally affect himself. There is
certainly in Mr. Shell's face and person little to bespeak the
favor of a public assembly ; and if he produces oratorical
effects, he must be indebted to a power of phrase, and an art
in delivery, of which, in the uproar in which he spoke, it was
impossible in that meeting to form any estimate. Next to Mr.
Sheil was the wagon appropriated to the Committee, where
there were some English Catholics ; and Lord Darnley's and
Lord Radnor's wagons succeeded.

The opposite wing was, as I have mentioned, occupied by

* When the Duke of York was dying, two years after he had sworn, '* So
help me God," that he never would consent to any measure of Catholic Eman-
cipation, Mr. Sheil endeavored ."to point a moral" from the approaching
funeral of him who had raised his hand to heaven against the speaker's coun-
try, and concluded by saying that, the solemn pageant ended, "the business,
and pursuits, and all the frivolities of life will be resumed; and the heir to
rhree kingdoms will be in a week forgotten ; we, too, shall pardon and forgot
nim." There was a great outcry against this speech, at this time, and the
Brunswick CluKg fanned the angry flame, as best they could. — JV?

OF WlNCfilLSEA. 325

the Brunswickers, of whom by far the most conspicuous was
Lord Winchilsea. He is a tall, strong built, vigorous-looking
man, destitute of all dignity or grace, but with a bluff, rude,
and direct nautical bearing, which reminds one of the quarter-
deck, and would lead you to suppose that he was the mate of a
ship (a conjecture which a black silk handkerchief tied tightly
about his neck, tends to assist) rather than an hereditary Coun-
sellor of the Crown. Whatever feelings of partiality his late
conduct may have generated toward him with his own faction,
he is certainly not popular in the county; for he is the terror
of poachers, and is most arbitrary in the enforcement of the
game laws. It is but justice to him to say, that he has, upon
one or two occasions, when he has detected poachers upon his
estate, given them the alternative of going to prison or fighting
with him ; for to his political he super adds no inconsiderable
pugilistic qualifications. He seems very well qualified to lead
an English mob, and possesses, in a far greater perfection than
Hunt or Cobbett, the demagogic qualities of voice, which gave
him, at Penenden Heath, a great advantage over his oppo-
nents.* Before the chair was taken, he was actively engaged
iu marshalling his troops, and cheering them on to battle, and
it was manifest that he felt all the excitement of a leader
engaged in a cause, upon the issue of which his own political
importance was depending. I did not remark any persons of
rank about him, and, indeed, the Protestant was conspicuously
inferior in this particular to the Catholic wing. There were,
however, on the left side, a number of persons, in whom it was
easy to recognise the sacerdotal physiognomy, of far more
influence than noblemen could have been ; the whole body of
the Kent Clergy were marshalled for the occasion ; and not
only the priests of the established religion, but many of the

* George Finch Hatton, tenth Earl of Winchilsea and Nottingham, was born
in 1791, and succeeded to the title in 1826. His place in Kent, is Eastwell
Park. He has always been much opposed, polemically and politically, to the
Catholics. In 1829, having published a "letter in which he imputed to the
Duke of Wellington a do sire to introduce popery into every department of tho
state, the Duke called on him to retract and apologize, and, on refusal to do so,
was challenged by his Grace, and a duel ensued, in which neither combatant was
tlit, — In youth, from his loud voice, the Earl was called " Roaring Hatton." — M.

326 PEKEtfDEtf TIE ATS

dissenting preachers of the Methodist school, were arrayed
under tlie Winchilsea banners. It was easy to recognise them
even amid the crowd of men habited in black, by their lugu-
brious and dismal expression. The clergy at the meeting were
so numerous, that the Protestant side had much more a clerical
than an agricultural aspect.

The different parties being thus distributed, and every
wagon having been occupied, and the whole of the area within
the enclosure having been filled by the dense crowd, the
Sheriff, Sir T. Mary on Wilson,* appeared exactly at twelve
o'clock, and took the chair. He seemed to me, from the dis-
tance at which I saw him, a young man, quite untutored in the
business of public meetings; but he had beside him his sub-
sheriff, Mr. Scudamore, who appeared to have all the zeal by
which his employer was actuated in the cause of Protestantism,
and to be perfectly well-versed in the stratagems by which an
advantage may be given to one party, without affording to the
other the opportunity of complaining of any very gross breach
of decorum. This gentleman had a coarse, red-whiskered,
and blunt face, of the Dogberry character, in which a vulgar
authoritativeness was combined with those habits of submission
to his superior, which are generally found in subordinate func-
tionaries.

The High-Sheriff having taken his station, delivered a brief
speech, in which he stated the object of the meeting to be the
adoption of such measures as should be deemed most advisable
for the support of the church establishment ; and he concluded
by enjoining the assembly to hear all parties, a precept which
he certainly exhibited no very great solicitude to embody in
his own conduct. A letter from the brother of Mr. Honey wood
was then read, in which an excuse was made for that gentle-
man upon the ground of indisposition (it was well known that

* Sir Thomas Mary on Wilson, who, as High Sheriff of Kent, was " first man
in the county" in 1828, was born in 1800; owns a property in Kent, called
Charlton House ; and has been chiefly noted, of late years, by his constant ef-
forts to obtain the enactment of a Parliamentary statute allowing him to enclose,
for his own use and profit, a great part of Hampstead Heath, near Highgate,
which is now the common property of the London public, and is used by them
for purposes of healthful recreation. — M.

THE tmcflESS AttD TtiE COALH^AYER. 327

lie was adverse to the objects of the meeting), and then Mr.
Gipps rose to move the petition. I found it difficult to ascer-
tain exactly who he was; but thus far I learned, that he is
not a man of influence or weight from property in the county,
and, indeed, I could see no motive for putting him in the fore-
ground, excepting that he has a clear and distinct voice, which,
in a less clamorous assembly, would have been probably heard
by a considerable part of the meeting. He dwelt upon a vari-
ety of the common topics which are pressed into the service
of Anti-catholicism, but gave no novelty by any unusual dis-
play of diction to the old arguments against Popery. He
seemed himself to chuckle at what he conceived to be a pecu-
liarly jocular and picturesque representation of Mr. O'Connell,
at the Clare election, bowing down to receive the benediction
of a Bishop, forgetting that it was hardly stranger on the part
of Mr. O'Connell to go through, what is, after all, I believe, a
common form with pious Roman Catholics, than for a Duchess
to print her beautiful lips on the black and bearded mouth of
a coal-heaver, in order to obtain a vote for Mr. Fox.* I am
surprised that this parallel was not adduced in Mr. O'ConnelPs
defence. After Mr. Gipps had expended himself in a monoto-
nous and Avearisome diatribe against the Catholic religion, he
proceeded to read a petition, which the liberal party had antici-
pated would have prayed distinctly against all concessions to
the Roman Catholics. To their surprise, it was couched in the
following words : —

* Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, whose [reputed?] son is the present
Duke, was a very clever, charming-, and (though her hair was of the color be-
tween golden and red) beautiful woman. She was a leader of the fashionable
world of London, for many years. She was married at the early age of seven-
teen, and her house became a sort of political meeting-place for the old Whig
leaders. She wrote poetry — and Coleridge eulogized the "heroic measure"
of her " Passage of Mont St. Gothard." She composed music also, and pa-
tronized painters and sculptors. During the great Westminster Election, in
which Fox, " the Man of the People," was a candidate, she personally can-
vassed for him. The story alluded to by Mr,. Sheil was that having asked a
coal-heaver to vote for Fox, he said, "Yes, if you will kiss me," and that, put-
ting a guinea between her lips, she allowed him to take kiss and coin at the
same time-* on which he voted for Fox! — The Duchess, albeit much talked
about, is believed to have been a virtuous wife. She died in 1806, aged foity
uiue.— M.

328 PENENDEN HEATH

"Your Petitioners beg leave to express to your Honor-
able House, their sense of the blessings they enjoy under
the Protestant Constitution of these Kingdoms, as settled
at the Revolution, viewing with the deepest regret the
proceedings which have for a long time been carrying on
in Ireland.

" Your Petitioners feel themselves imperatively called
upon to declare their strong and inviolable attachment to
those Protestant principles, which have proved to be the
best security for the civil and religious liberty of these
Kingdoms.

"They therefore approach your Honorable House, hum-
bly but earnestly praying that the Protestant Constitution
of the United Kingdom may be preserved entire and in-
violable."

The phraseology of this petition, from its moderate charac-
ter, excited some surprise ; and it was justly said that no
Protestant could object to the matter for which it ostensibly
purported to pray. The compatibility of concession to the
Catholics with the entirety and inviolability of the Protestant
Church, has been always maintained, by not only the Prot-
estant, but Catholic advocates of their claims. This subdued
tone of the petition gave distinct proof that the Clubbists cal-
culated upon a strong opposition to any more forcible inter-
ference with the legislature. The object, however, of the
Clubbists was obvious, and the petition was resisted, not so
much upon the ground of its containing anything in itself very
objectionable, as that the intent of the petitioners themselves
was avowed.

A Mr. Plumtre* seconded Mr. Gipps. It was said that he
was a Calvinist, and he certainly had the aspect which we
might suppose to have been worn by the founder of his religion

* In 1828, Mr. Plumtre was one of the parliamentary representatives of Kent,
and ultra-illiberal in his politics and religion. He piopevly belonged to a small
but compact body in the House of Commons, called " The Saints." He was
a well-meaning, foolish-acting, absurd-speaking man — a sort of parliamentary
Malvolio.— M

MARQUIS CAMDEtf,

when lie ordered Servetus to be consumed by a slow fire. He
said nothing at all worth note.

When Mr. Plumtre sat down, Lord Camden addressed the
Sheriff.* He occupied a peculiar station. Instead, as was
observed in one of the morning papers, of taking his place
upon the right side, and bringing up his tenants in a body, he
came unattended, and selected a place upon the hustings near
the Sheriff. He deprecated all kinds of partisanship in the
course which he took in the proceedings; and certainly his
deportment and look indicated that it was with no other feel-
ing than one of duty, and without any kind of struggle for
superiority, that he had mingled in the contest. I do not
know whether it was his office as Lord Lieutenant of the
County that procured him a patient hearing from both sides,
or whether, before their passions were strongly excited, they
forbore from offering an indignity to a person who from his age
and rank derived a title to universal respect. He was the
only person who was heard with scarcely any interruption.

His speech was exceedingly well delivered, in a surprisingly
clear, sonorous, and audible intonation. He condemned the
conduct of the Catholics in the language of vehement vitupe-
ration, but at the same time pointed out the extreme violence
with which their demands were resisted. The only circum-
stance in his speech worth recording is, that he mentioned his
belief that some measure of concession was intended by Gov-
ernment. This attracted great attention ; and it is difficult to

* The Marquis Camden deserves a passing notice, were it only to commem-
orate his praisewoithy conduct, as a sinecurist. He was son of the great Earl
Camden, Lord Chancellor of England, 1766-70. He was born in 1759, edu-
cated at Cambridge, entered the House of Commons in 1780 ; and, in the same
year, was appointed one of the Tellers of the Exchequer, a lucrative sinecure.
He succeeded his father in the Earldom in 1794 ; and soon after went, as Lord-
Lieutenant of Ireland. In 1804, he became a Cabinet Minister, and quitting
office on the death of Pitt, resumed it on the downfall of the Grenville admin-
istration. He was rewarded with a Marquisate in 1812, and, when an outcry
was raised against sinecures, resigned for the public good about thirty thousand
pounds sterling a year, out of the proceeds of his tellership. The whole amount
BO surrendered amounted to about two hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
He was Lord-Lieutenant, custos-rotulorum, and vice-admiral of Kent and dztd
in 1840, aged eighty-one. — M.

3oO PENENDEN HEATH

conceive Low a person, so prudent and so calm as Lord Cam-
den manifestly is, would have intimated any belief of his upon
the subject, unless there were some foundation on which some-
thing more substantial than a mere conjecture could be raised.
Toward the end of his speech the Clubbists became exceed-
ingly impatient, and one of them called him " an old Radical ;"
a term of which he protested that he was at a loss to discover
the applicability, as he had never done anything to please the
Radicals. This Mr. Hunt afterward controverted, and insisted
that he had done much to gratify the Radicals by giving up
his sinecure — a panegyric which was well merited, and was
most happily pronounced.

Lord Darnley followed Lord Camden, but was received with
loud and vehement hooting. This nobleman is considered to
be very proud, without being arrogant, and to have as full con-
sciousness of the dignity and rights of his order, as Lord Grey
could charge any Whig disciple to entertain. He must have
been deeply galled when he perceived that his rank and wealth
were only turned into scoff, and when in the outset of his speech
a common boor cried out, " That there fellow is an Hirishman.

Tim, put a potato down his throat, and choke his d d

Hirish jaw." He was not deterred from going on by the
howlings which surrounded him, and with far more intrepidity
than I should have been disposed to give him credit for, he
proceeded with his speech. He soon, however, received a
blow, which wounded him much more than the potato propo-
sition ; for the moment he began to talk of his estate in
Ireland (where he has a very large property), several people

cried out, " Why don't you live on your estate, and be d d

to you, and to every other d d absentee P' This was a

thrust which it was impossible to parry. Lord Darnley en-
deavored to proceed ; but the uproar became so terrible, that
not a word which he uttered could be heard in the tumult.
Whatever faults the Clubbists may have committed, any exces-
sive deference to rank and wealth was not, on this occasion at
least, among their defects; and indeed, with the exception of
Cobbett and Sheil, no man was listened to with more angry
impatience than the noble Earl. After speaking for about

JRIVAL OK A TORS. 331

twenty minutes, lie sat clown with evident marks of disappoint-
ment and personal mortification.

On his resuming his place, with a determination, I should
presume, never to expose himself to such an affront again,
Lord Winchilsea and Mr. Sheil rose together. The compe-
tition for precedence into which the Irish demagogue was so
audacious as to enter with the chief and captain of the Bruns-
wickers, excited the fury of the latter. Mr. Sheil insisted
that, as Lord Camden had — as was, I helieve, the case —
alluded to him, he had a right to vindicate himself; and there
were many who surmised that his motive for presenting him-
self at this early stage of the proceedings was, that he had
sent his speech to London to he printed ; and he was heard to
say that he did not care whether the Brunswickers listened to
him, provided his arguments were read.* Whatever was his
object, it was certainly not a little presumptuous in a stranger
thus to enter the lists with an Earl, and to demand a prior
audience. "I am an Irishman," said Mr. Sheil. "I'll be
sworn you are," cried Cobbett; "you are such a d d impu-
dent fellow." The party on the right endeavored to support
Mr. Sheil, and for a long time both Lord Winchilsea and that
gentleman continued to speak together, amid a confusion in
which neither could be heard.

At length the Sheriff interposed, and declared that Lord
Winchilsea had first obtained his eye. That nobleman pro-
ceeded to deliver himself of a quantity of commonplace
against the Catholic religion, amid the vehement plaudits of
his own faction, intermingled with strong marks of disapproba-
tion from the right. "Mushroom Lord — upstart — go mind
your rabbits, and the Papists are not poachers!" were the
cries of the liberal party ; while the Brunswickers exclaimed,

* Mr. Sheil had prepared a long and brilliant oration, to be delivered at the
Penenden Heath Meeting, and Murdo Young, of " The Sun" newspaper had
it published that evening as if it had been spoken. Only a few sentences
were actually spoken, but the speech, to the extent of several columns, was
sent all over the United Kingdom, on the wings of the press, and produced a
strong impression wherever read. I recollect that, on returning from Penenden
Heath, on the evening of the meeting, Mr. Sheil supped at the " Sun" office?
and I had the gratification of being one of the party. — M.

332 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.

"Bravo, Winchilsea!" and waved their hats, as with the
lungs of Stentor, with the gesture of a pugilist, and the frenzy
of a fanatic, he proceeded. Although utterly destitute of idea,
and though scarcely one distinct notion, perhaps, could be
detected in his speech, yet Lord Wincliilsea, by the energy
of his action, and the impetuosity of his manner, and the strong
evidences of rude sincerity about him, made an impression
upon his auditors far greater than the cold didactic manner of
Lord Camden or Lord Darnley was calculated to produce.

There can be no greater mistake than the supposition that
the English people are not fond of ardent speaking, and of a
vehement rhetorical enunciation. Lord Winchilsea is perfectly
denuded of knowledge, reflection, or command of phrase ; yet
by dint of strong feeling he contrives to awaken a sympathy
which a colder speaker, with all the graces of eloquence, could
never attain. He seems to be in downright earnest; and al-
though his personal vanity may be an ingredient in his sincer-
ity, it is certain, whatever be the cause, that his ardor and
vehemence are far more powerful auxiliaries to his cause, than
the contemplative philosophy of the Whigs, who, contented
with their cold integrity of purpose, adopted no efficient means
to bring their tenants to the field, and encounter their oppo-
nents with the weapons which were so powerfully wielded
against them.

After having whirled himself round, and having beaten his
breast and bellowed for about half an hour, Lord Winchilsea
sat down in the midst of the constitutional acclamations of the
Brunswickers ; and Mr. Shell, and Mr. Shea, an English Cath-
olic gentleman, both presented themselves to the Sheriff. The
Sheriff gave a preference to Mr. Shea, who made a bold and
manly speech, but was interrupted by the continued hootings
of the Protestant party. The only fault committed by Mr.
Shea was, that he dwelt too long on the pure blood of the
English Catholics — a topic of which they are naturally but a
little tediously fond : it were to be desired that this old blood
of theirs did not stagnate so much in their veins, and beat a
little more rapidly in its circulation. With their immense for-
tunes, and a little more exertion, what might they not accom-

BHEIL'S UNSPOKEN ORATION. 333

plish iii influencing the public mind ? Excellent men in pri-
vate life, they are not sufficiently ardent for politicians, and
should remember that their liberty may be almost bought, and
that two or three thousand pounds well applied might have
turned the Kent meeting.

Mr. Shea having concluded, Lord Teynham rose; and Mr.
Shell, at the Sheriff's request, gave way to him. Lord Teyn-
ham had been a Roman Catholic.* His name is Roper, and,
I believe, he is descended from Mrs. Roper, the daughter of
Sir Thomas More. He was assailed with reproaches for his
apostasy by the Protestants; and, though he made a very good
speech, it was neutralized in its effect by his desertion of his
former creed. So universal (however unjust, perhaps) is the
antipathy to a renegade, that among the Brunswickers them-
selves, his having ceased to be a Catholic rendered him an
object of scorn. " That fellow's a-going to shift his religion
again!" — "Oh, my Lord, there's a man here as says that

v/hat your Lordship's saying is all a d d Popish lie!" and

other ejaculations of the same character warned my Lord
Teynham that his change of creeds had not rendered him
more acceptable to his audience.

Lord Teynham having sat down amid the Brunswick groans,
Mr. Sheil rose among them. He was vehemently applauded
on the right, and as furiously howled at from the left. " Down
with him, the traitor!" — "Down with the rebel!" — " Apolo
gize for what you said of the Duke of York!" — "Send him
and O'Connell to the Tower!" — "He got his freehold last
night in Maidstone !" — "Down with him !" — " Off', Sheil, off!"
— "We're not the Clare freeholders!" — "See how the viper
epits!" — " How the little hanirnal foams at the mouth ! take
care of him, he'll bite you!" — "Off, Sheil, off!" were the
greetings with which this gentleman was hailed by the Bruns-
wickers, while his own party cried out, "Fair play !" — "Oh,
you cowards, you are afraid to hear him !"

Of what Mr. Sheil actually said", it was impossible to give
any account; and the miraculous power by which "The Sun"

* Henry Francis Roper, fourteenth Lord Teynham, born 1760, died 184?
His estate in Kent was (jailed Linsted Lodge, — M.

334 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.

newspaper of that night contrived to publish his oration in
three columns, must be referred to some Hoheriloe's interposi-
tion in favor of that journal. I heard but one sentence, which
I afterward recognised in print, as having been spoken : " See
to what conclusion you must arrive, when you denounce the
advocates of Emancipation as the enemies of their country.
How far will your anathema reach ] It will take in one half
of Westminster Abbey ; and is not the very dust, into which
the tongues and hearts of Pitt, and Burke, and Fox, have
mouldered, better than the living hearts and tongues of those
who have survived them ? If you were to try the question by
the authorities of the illustrious dead, and by those voices
which may be said to issue from the grave, how would you
determine ? If, instead of counting votes in St. Stephen's
Chapel, you were to count monuments in the mausoleum beside
it, how would the division of the great departed stand 1 Enter
the aisles which contain the ashes of your greatest legislators,
and ask yourselves as you pass how they felt and spoke, when
they had utterance and emotion, in that senate where they are
heard no more: write ' Emancipatior1 upon the tomb of every
advocate, and its counter-epitaph on that of every opponent
of the peace of Ireland, and shall we not have a majority of
sepulchres in our favor?" With this exception, I do not think
that the Irish demagogue uttered one word of what appeared
in the shape of an elaborate essay in the newspapers."

After having stamped, and fretted, and entreated, and men-
aced the Brunswickers for half an hour, during which he sus-
tained a continued volley of execrations, Mr. Sheil thought it
prudent to retreat, and was succeeded by Mr. Larkin, an auc-
tioneer from Rochester, who delivered a very clever speech in
favor of radicalism, but had the prudence to keep clear of
Emancipation. His occupation afforded a fine scope for Bruns-
wick wit. "Knock him down — going, going, gone !" and sim-
ilar reminiscences, exhibited the aristocracy of the mob. Mr.
Larkin was not at all disturbed, but, with an almost unparal-
leled sang-froid, drew a flask from his pocket, and refreshed
himself for the next sentence, when the uproar was at its
height.

KNATCHBDLL AND COBBETT. 335

When he had finished, Sir Edward Knatchbull, the member
for the county, and Cobbett, who had been railing for hours at
the long speeches, got up together. The Sheriff preferred Sir
Edward, upon which Cobbett got into a fit of vehement indig-
nation. He accused the Sheriff of gross partiality, and, while
Sir Edward Knatchbull was going on, shook his hand repeat-
edly at him, and exhibited the utmost savageness of de-
meanor and of aspect. His face became inflamed with rage,
and his mouth was contorted into a ferocious grin. He grasped'
a large pole, with a placard at the head of it in favor of Lib-
erty, and, standing with this apparatus of popularity, which
assisted him in supporting himself at the verge of the wagon,
he hurled out his denunciations against the Sheriff. The Bruns-
wickers roared at him, and showered contumely of all kinds
upon his head, but with an undaunted spirit he persevered.
Sir Edward Knatchbull was but indistinctly heard in the tu-
mult which his own party had got up to put Cobbett down.
He seems a proud, obstinate, dogged sort of Squire, with an in-
finite notion of his own importance as an English county mem-
ber, and a corresponding contempt for seven millions of his
fellow-citizens. He has in his face and bearing many of the
disagreeable qualities of John Bullism, without any of its
frankness and plain dealing. He is rude without being honest,
and offensive without being sincere.* Cobbett was almost
justified in complaining that such a man should be preferred
to him.

When he had terminated a speech, in which it was evident
that he was thinking of the next election, at which the Deer-
ings intended to dispute the county with him, Cobbett was
allowed by the Sheriff to proceed. His hilarity was restored
for a little while, and holding out his petition against tithes,
he set about abusing both parties. In a letter published in
the Morning Herald, he takes care, in his account of the meet-

* Sh Edward Knatchbull, of Mersham Hatch, Kent (wh'-oh his family have
owned since the time of Henry II.), was bom in 1781, and succeeded 10 the
title in 1819. He eventually abandoned much of his intolerance, was Paymas
ter of the Forces, in Peel's last Ministry, and continued comparatively liberal
death.— M.

336 PENENDEN HEATH MKETING.

ing, to record the opprobrious language applied by the multi-
tude to others; but he omits all mention of what was said of
himself. " Down with the old Bone -grabber !" — "Roast him
on his gridiron;" — "D — 11 him and his Indian corn;" were
shouted from all quarters. He was not, however, much dis-
composed at first, for he was confident of carrying his petition,
and retorted with a good deal of force and some good humor
on those who were inveighing against him. "You cry out too
weakly, my bucks !" said he, snapping his fingers at them.
"You cry like women in the family-way. There's a rascal
there, that is squeaking at me, like a parson's tithe-pig."

These sallies amused everybody ; but still the roar against
him continued, and I was astonished to see what little influ-
ence he had with even the lower orders by whom he was sur-
rounded. The Catholic party looked upon him as an enemy,
who came to divide them, and the Brunswickers treated him
with mingled execrations and scorn. At length he perceived
that the day was going rfgainst him, and his eyes opened to
his own want of power over the people. Though he after-
ward vaunted that the great majority were with him, he ap-
peared not to have above a dozen or two to support his propo-
sition, and when he sat down, evident symptoms of mortification
and of rage against all parties appeared in his countenance.
Altogether, he acquitted himself as badly as can be well
imagined ; and it seems to me as clear that he is a most
inefficient and powerless speaker, as that he is a great and
vigorous writer.

Hunt got up to second him, and was received almost as
badly as his predecessor, though his conduct and manner were
quite opposite, and he did everything he could, by gentleness
and persuasiveness, to allay the fury of the Brunswick party,
But, after he had begun, Sir Edward Knatchbull interrupted
him in a most improper and offensive manner, which induced
Lord Iladnor to stand up and reprobate Sir Edward's conduct
as a most gross violation of decorum. Mr. Hunt went on ; but,
whatever may be his sway with public assemblies on other
occasions, he certainly showed few evidences of omnipotence
upon this. He seemed to be crest-fallen, and to have cjuailec)

337

under the force which was brought to bear against him. One
story he told well, of Sir Edward Knatchbull having refused
to pay him for four gallons of beer, when he was a brewer at
Bristol, because he had sold him a less quantity than that pre-
scribed by the law : altogether, his speech, if it might be so
called, when he was not allowed to utter a connected sentence,
was a complete failure ; but I am convinced that no estimate
of his ability can be formed from this specimen of him, as his
voice was stifled by the faction to which he was opposed.
Indeed both parties seemed to repudiate Cobbett and Hunt,
as their common enemies.

Before Hunt had finished, there was a tremendous and
seemingly a preconcerted cry of " question" from the Bruns-
wickers ; Hunt went on speaking, and immense confusion took
place. Mr. Calcraft interfered in vain. Mr. Hodges and Lord
Radnor then moved an amendment, declaring that the measure
should be left to the discretion of the legislature ; and amid a
tumult, to which I never witnessed anything at all comparable,
the Sheriff put the question. It has been stated in the news-
papers that the Brunswickers had a great majority ; the im-
pression of a vast number of persons was quite the reverse.
They were indeed so well disciplined, that their show of hats
was simultaneous, while the liberal party hardly knew what
what was going forward. The Sheriff omitted to put Cobbett's
amendment, which seemed to be forgotten by every one but
himself; and having announced that there was a large major-
ity for the petition moved by Mr. Gipps, retired from the chair.
The acclamations of the Brunswickers were reiterated ; the
whole body waved their hats, and lifted up their voices; the
parsons shook hands with each other : the Methodists smiled
with a look of ghastly satisfaction ; and Lord Winchilsea,
losing all decency and self-restraint, was thrown into convul-
sions of joy, and leaped, shouted, and roared, in a state of
almost insane exultation. The whole party then joined in
singing " God save the King," in one howl of appropriate dis-
cord, and the assembly broke up. *

Iliufc terminated toe great Kent meeting; to wtotett, mow*
ever, I conceive that more important*. 00 it «&eato tfce

338 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.

olic question, is attached tlian it deserves. I have not room
left for many comments, but a few brief observations on this
striking- incident are necessary. The triumph of Protestantism
is not complete. The whole body of the clergy, who are in
Kent exceedingly numerous, were not only present, but used
all their influence to procure an attendance, and the utmost
exertions were employed to bring the tenantry of the anti-
Catholic proprietors to the field. No exertion was made upon
the other side. Lord Camden boasted that he had not inter-
fered with a single individual ; yet it is admitted that at least
one third of the assembly were favorable to the Catholics.
The spirit of Lord George Gordon may, by the metempsycho-
sis of faction, have migrated into Lord Winchilsea ; but, while
he is as well qualified in intellect and in passion to conduct a
multitude of fanatics, his troops are of a very different charac-
ter. Will the legislature shrink before him ? Or will it not
rather exclaim, " Contempsi Catilince gladios, non partimescam
tuos ?" Will the Government permit such precedents of pop-
ular excitation to be held up ?" and does it never occur to
the Tory party that the time may not be far distant when
republicanism may choose Protestantism for its model, and, by
rallying the people, act upon the same principle of intimida-
tion? If the Catholics are to be put down by these means,
may not the aristocracy be one day put down by similar expe-
dients 1 Will the House of Lords stand by and allow all the
opulence and the rank of a large county to be trampled upon
by the multitude 1 for it must occur to everybody, that Lord
Winchilsea was the only nobleman on the side of the petition-
ers, while the rest of the Peerage were marshalled on the
other. Do the patricians of England desire to see a renewal
of scenes in which the nobles of the land were treated with
utter scorn, and the feet of peasants trod upon their heads?
Let statesmen reflect upon these very obvious subjects of
grave meditation, and determine whether Ireland is to be
infuriated by oppression, and England is to be maddened with
fanaticism; whether they are" not preparing the way for the
speedy convulsion of one country, and the ultimate revolution
of tlie other.

LORD-CHANCELLOR BROUGHAM'S LEVEE.

UNFEIGNED respect for, and a slight personal acquaintance
with, the noble person who now holds the Seals, led me to at-
tend his last levee.* This could not be done without some
inconvenience; and not the least of it was the necessity of be-
ing equipped in full court-apparel. I do not object to this
dress — indeed, I much approve of it in those who mingle in
the gorgeousness of courts ; but plainer attire would have more
befitted the taste of an humble incognito. I mention this fact,
lest it might be supposed that I was guilty of the not improb-
able gothicism of appearing in a garb fit for the funeral, but
not the levee of a Lord-Chancellor. The practice of receiving
the respects of the public on one or two stated occasions is suf-
ficiently ancient, but I have understood was discontinued, or
not much observed, in the latter days of Lord Eldon. It was
revived with somewhat greater splendor by Lord Lyndhurst,
but still it attracted little public notice. His Lordship never
secured any very considerable share of general favor. As a
lawyer, he was not at the head, though among the chief of his
profession. For my own part, I do not regard his secondary
eminence in the law as detracting much from his eminence as
a public character, when it is recollected that Brougham him-

* This sketch was published «n No. 1 of the Metropolitan Magazine (May,
1831), which was started by Thomas Campbell, the poet, after he had retired
from the Editorship of the Ar«:o Monthly Magazine, which he had held for a
period of ten years. Lord Brougham's first levee would probably have been in
Hilary Term, 1831, and the second, described by Mr. Sheil, at the commence-
ment of the following Easter Term, or in April, 1831.— M.

340 Lofcr>

/self ranked much below Gurney,* Pollock, Campbell, and sev-
eral others, whose distinction is derived from law alone — the
lowest basis on which the fame of a public man can rest. In
politics his career had not been such as to command respect.
He was uniformly the supporter of the most profitable opinion.1?

* The late Sir John Gumey, long known as one of the best cross-examiner*
at the bar, was made a puisne judge, and in that capacity, no one could «ay of
him,

" Even his failings leaned to mercy's side,"

for he was most severe in his judgments. Sir Frederick Pollock and Loid
Campbell are yet alive — the first, is Chief Baron of the Exchequer; the other,
is Lord Ghiet Justice of England, and obtained a peerage in June, 1841, by
the scandalous job (already referred to in my note3 on the sketch of Plunket)
of being made Irish Chancellor, for a few days, to obtain the retiring pension
of four thousand pounds sterling, when the Melbourne Ministry, whose first
law-officer he was, had no other means of quartering him on the public. — M.

t Lord Lyndhurst, who has been Lord Chancellor of England under five Ad-
ministrations, is American by birth, having been born at Boston, May 21, 1772.
His grandfather, Richard Copley, was an Irishman who emigrated to America :
John Singleton Copley, this man's son, bom in Boston in I'/ 38, showed great
natural taste for painting, which he adopted as a profcssi-m. He went to Eng-
land, where his fine historical painting, the death of Lonl Chathnm, gave him
high reputation. He painted several other subject-pictures, which caused him
to be elected a Royal Academician. He died in 1815, having lived to see the
dawning- success of his son. The future Chancellor having eminently distin-
guished himself at Cambridge University, was called to the English bar in 1804.
and, at first was remarkable for his ultra-liberal politics. He soon became
leader of his circuit, entered Parliament, adopted Tory views, and was rewarded
by the Government, with the Chief Justice of Chester in 1818. He was made
Solicitor-General, and knighted, in 1819, became Attorney -Genera! in 1824;
was made Master of the Rolls in 1826; and was raised to the rank of Lord
Chancellor, with a peerage, as Lord Lyndhurst, when Lord Eldon and five of
his colleagues simultaneously resigned, with a view to embarrass Janning, the
new Premier, in 1827. Lord Lyndhurst was continued in the office of Chancellor
under the brief administration of Lord Goderich, and was retained, from 1827
to November, 1828, by the Duke of Wellington, under whom, in 1829, the
pliant lawyer advocated Catholic Emancipation, as strongly as he had assailed
it before. In November, 1830, when the Duke's Cabinet broke up, Lyndhtust
had to resign, and was succeeded by Brougham. In 1831, Lord Lyndhurst
was made Chief Baron of the Exchequer, which he resigned, in December,
1834, again to become Lord Chancellor. But Peel's Ministry, of which he
was one, was compelled to resign in April, 1835. From this time, until the
autumn of 1841, Lord Lyndhurst held no official station, but received his retir-
ing pension of five thousand pounds sterling. He made a speech, for several

LOUD LYNJ) HURST. 3-±l

In early life a flagrant Wing, as opening np tlie Lest field for
talent; in a more advanced stage, the bitter enemy of the
Catholics, so long as tlie star of Lord Eldon, the great dis-
penser of legal favor, was in the ascendant; and finally, ^ hen
office had secured him, the advocate of the Catholics on what
was called the constitutional ground, when all favor was in the
giving of the Duke of Wellington.*

It is not remarkable that the levees of Lord Lyndhurst
should have passed off in quietness. I do not remember to
have heard that the ceremonial was observed by his Lordship,
although, from the known display of this fashionable lawyer,
there is no doubt that it was not neglected. If, however, his
levees had been attended by the magnificent, it is equally cer-
tain that the fact must have attracted public notoriety. I in-
cline to think that it was reserved for Brougham to illustrate
the ancient custom, by the splendor of those who chose to be
dutiful to the Lord-Chancellor. The fashion of going to court

subsequent years, at the close of each Parliamentaiy Session, in which he ably
and unmercifully exposed the " sayings and doings" of the Melbourne Ministry.
When Peel again became Premier, in 1841, Lord Lyndhurst, for the fifth time,
was made Lord Chancellor, and continued in office, until June, 1846, when
the Peel Ministry was broken up. It is said that he was offered the Great
Seal, for the sixth time, in 1852, by Lord Derby, but declined on the plea of
advanced years — having then reached the age of seventy. As a politician,
Lord Lyndhurst has been inconsistent and flexible; as a parliamentary speaker,
severe and sarcastic ; as an advocate, powerful and effective ; as a judge, acute
and shrewd. In common law, he has had few superiors; and though his bar
practice was not in the Chanceiy courts, sagacity and great common sense
marked his decisions in equity. He still attends to his parliamentary duties
[January, 1854], but seldom speaks. — M.

* War, to which Wellington owed his celebrity, rank, and fortune, has usually
been an expensive luxury to John Bull. In the last four years of the contest
with France, the cost to the British nation was — 1812, £103,421,538; 1813,
£120,952,657; 1814, £116,843,889 ; 1815, £116,491,051. The expenditure
during the war. from 1803 to 1815 inclusive, was £1,159,729,256. It was
stated after the battle of Waterloo, that young men in the United Kingdom
(such as usually enlist) were so generally killed off that it would have been
impossible to raise another army. I have heard Doctor Buckland, the
geologist, state (in a course of lectures which I attended when at Oxford), that
the present French soldiery owe their stunted appearance to the conscription
in the time of Napoleon, which drew away the manhood of the countrv, leaving
the population to spring from immature youths or exhausted vieillards.—M..

BROUGHAM'S

is such, tliat it infers little personal respect to tlie individual
monarch ; but the practice of attending the levee of an inferior
personage is to be ascribed to the respect which individual emi-
nence commands.

When Lord Brougham announced his levees, it could not be
known whether he should receive the homage of the aristoc-
racy, to whom it was not supposed that his Lordship's politics
were very amicable. It was, moreover, thought that the re-
publican, or, to speak more guardedly, the Whig Lord-Chan-
cellor, would care little for a custom in which there was no
manifest utility. 4Ie had declared that the gewgaws of office
delighted him not; and I dare say he would fain bring his
mind to believe that all ceremonial was idle, perhaps con-
temptible. But it is the greatest mistake to suppose that Lord
Brougham is inattentive to the ceremonies with which his high
place is surrounded. A careful observer will see clearly that
imposing forms are perfectly agreeable to his mind ; nobody
could ridicule form better, so long as he held no situation which
required the observance of customary rules : but, elevated to
his present distinction, it is plain that he enjoys all the little
peculiarities of his office. Somebody said that he presided in
the House of Lords in a bar-wig, and instanced the fact as a
proof of his reforming temper; but it was not true. Accident
may have obliged him to take his seat in this ungainly form,
but he had no purpose of deviating from the ancient fall-bot-
tom, and he is now to be seen in all the amplitude of the olden
fleece. In like manner he observes the strict regime, so fantas-
tical to a stranger, of causing counsel to be shouted for from
without, although they are actually present, and he adds to
the oddness of thic custom by receiving them with a most im-
posing mien, and putting on his chapeau as they advance.
This is a form for which the model is not to be found in the
practice of his immediate predecessors. It is possible, how-
ever, that his extensive and minute reading may have made
him aware that Wolsey, perad venture, or some great Chancel-
lor of old, had the fancy to be covered when the suppliants
approached. Let any one observe with what studied dignity
he performs the duty of announcing the royal assent to actg

bf tits PROMOTION.

of Parliament; lie assumes A solemnity of tone for wliicli Ins
voice is not ill fitted, but wliicli is unusual with him. These
small circumstances, and many such which might be mentioned,
show that state is not uncongenial to his mind. Why should it \
His weakness consists in the unreal contempt for what is not
really contemptible.

With his high notions of office, I should have been surprised
if he had foregone the levee; and assuredly he has not reck-
oned without reason ; for a more splendid or flattering pageant
could not be witnessed than that which his rooms exhibited.
Unquestionably the most remarkable man in the empire at
this moment, it is his fortune to attract the honorable regards
of all who are distinguished as his compeers. It is not my in-
tention to offer any estimate of what I conceive to be his gen-
uine worth, as he may be appreciated in a more dispassionate
time ; I speak of him only as a great man filling a very large
space in the consideration of the empire. Judging from the
throng of all classes upon this occasion, whose favor is desira*
ble, no man is more popular.*

* To us, looking back upon public events, it may now appear singular thai
there could have been any doubt, on the part of the Whigs, on taking office,
in November, 1830, of Brougham's claim to participate in " the spoils." For
nearly twenty years, he had been one of the leaders of the liberal party in the
House of Commons. In that capacity none had more ably or consistently ad-
vocated education, and parliamentary, and law i-eform. On Queen Caroline's
trial, he distinguished himself above all others, and his advocacy of her cause,
while it precluded him from Court favor, greatly endeared him to the public.
In 1827, he strongly supported Canning's Ministry, but declined, it is said, the
office of Master of the Rolls, vacant by Lord Lyndhurst's elevation to the Wool-
sack. At the general election in 1830, on the accession of William IV., the
great County of York returned him, without his competitor's risking a contest,
as one of its representatives. He pledged himself to introduce a measure of
Parliamentary Reform, and the day being fixed for its introduction, the Wel-
lington Cabinet was beaten into resignation, whereupon Lord Grey was em-
powered to construct a liberal Government. The post of Attorn ev-General
(which is not held by one of the Executive) was offered to Brougham and de-
clined. It was an inferior post, for Lord Grey actually was afraid of the great
genius of the man who had emphatically become " the observed of all obser- I
vers." Afraid that Brougham's plan of Parliamentary Reform would be bolder
and better than that promised by the Whigs, the highest office was offered him
and accepted. Or November 22, 1834. he took his seat in the House of Lords

844 LOKi) BROUGHAMS LEVEE.

His levee is held on a Saturday evening, at tlie unsuitable
hour of ten o'clock. It was rather late before I could come
up, and I found the whole square in the vicinity of his resi-
dence crowded with carriages. Threading one's way amid
many obstructions, I reached the house, and which (to observe
on a matter so small) I should remark is not very suitable for
the residence of either its former (Earl Grey) or present occu-
pant. It is expected that a noble aristocrat should be found
in ample halls, surrounded by suitable magnificence, but this
is not the house in which the lordly capital of the peers should
be lodged. The principal rooms are of moderate dimensions,
and the suite consists only of two. It was not surely in this
house that Lord Byron found the family of Lord Grey, when
he formed the very exalted opinion of their patrician accom-
plishments to which he gives expression in one of his letters.

The preparations for announcement were those which are
usually observed. The Chancellor took his place at a corner
of the room, backed by his chaplain, and was soon encircled
by the visitants; hio dress remarkably plain, being a simple
suit of velvet in the court cut. The names were announced
from the bottom of the stairs, and each person as he entered
walked up to the Chancellor and offered his respects. The num-
bers were so great, that it was impossible to devote any marked
attention to each ; as soon, therefore, as the visiter had made
his bow, he retired into the throng, or took his departure through
the adjoining room. I was not present at the first of the levees
which were held, and at which the attendance was very dis-
tinguished ; but a friend who wr.i*, spoke very highly of the
manner in which the Chancellor performed his noviciate.

The Archbishop of Canterbury came early, and was very
kindly received. He was followed by the Archbishop of York
and several other bishops, whose attendance gave proof that.
differ as they might from Lord Brougham, they surely did not

na Baron Brougham and Vaux, and Lord High-Chancellor of England. He
held this office for four years, namely, until November, 1834. While Lord
Erskine's Chancery Judgments are laughed at as " the Apocryphal Volume.'*
those of Lord Brougham, collected and edited by Charles Purton Cooper, the
eminent Chancery barrister, are constantly referred to, as authority. — pM.

"THE IKON DUKE."

Consider him an enemy to the Church.* There is something
uncommonly bland in the appearance and expression of the Pri-
mate ; he is the very reverse of the full-blown dignitary who
is commonly seen in high places. One's notions of a bishop
are apt to be those which we entertain of a high-feeding drone
— with little duty that is of much real consequence, but with a
most exalted notion of such duty as he is called on to dis-
charge. Not so the present Archbishop of Canterbury : I mis-
take his character extremely if he is not a meek as well as a
highly-accomplished servant of his Master. I know riot
how he ascended to the primacy, but I am sure that it is
not dishonored in his hands. Brougham evidently likes his
Grace.

The most remarkable visiter of that evening was the Duke
of Wellington. The crowd was astonished, and I dare say
the Chancellor himself was surprised, when his name was sent
up. I doubt if they had ever met in the same room before.
Their political lives, with the exception of the Catholic ques-
tion, were one unvarying ccurse of opposition, if not enmity.
I suspect that for a time the Duke despised the talk of the
lawyer; and, on the other hand, Brougham had often declared
that the respect winch he entertained for military glory was
not very lofty. Some of his bitterest tirades were levelled at
the Duke personally. No one will deny that it was high-
minded in the Duke to lay aside resentment of -every sort, and
offer this mark of respect as well to the man as the office. The
Chancellor was flattered by the attention, and shook the Duke
by the hand very cordially. There is not much heartiness of
manner about the Duke, whatever may be the reality ; and
his dry features, thinned by the great labors in which his life
has been passed, do not easily or readily relax into a smile ;
but on this occasion it was remarked that his countenance was
more expressive of good-will than usual.t He engaged in con-

* Dr. Howley, Archbishop of Canterbury, Hied in 1848. — Dr. Hareourt.
Archbishop of York, died in 1847. — M.

t Brougham and Wellington subsequently became intimate friends. On one
occasion, Brougham publicly described Wellington as " the most magnanimous
of men.'" — M

5*

LOKD BROUGHAM'S

versation for a minute or two with the Chancellor, and then
gave place to the subsequent visitors who pressed for audience.
His Grace immediately joined some military friends who had
previously been received.

Not the least remarkable personage in the room was the
Lord- Advocate of Scotland.* Brougham and he are very old
friends, and have been much engaged in the same species of
literature. Lord Brougham was his praclecessor in the editor-
ship of the "Edinburgh Review" — a fact which is not gener-
ally known, but which is certain. Brougham was not the first
editor, having filled that office for a short time after Sydney
Smith withdrew from the situation. Jeffrey appeared ex-
tremely petit in his court-dress, and did not seem very much
at home ; he was acquainted with but few of his fellow-visiters,
and had too much good taste to occupy much of the Chancel-
lor's attention. They did not seem to hold any conversation
beyond the usual commonplace inquiries.

Ascending the stairs, I was met by a hobbling old Lord —
Carnarvon by name. There is nothing very courtly or digni-
fied in the appearance of this nobleman.f He has been a
Whig the greater part of his life, but affects to be greatly dis-
mayed at the Reform Bill; and has more than once run a tilt
against the Ministers, but with no very marked success. Arm-
in-arm with Lord Carnarvon came the gay and the good-look-

* Francis Jeffrey, was born in 1773, and was one of Sir Walter Sco'tt's con-
temporaries and early associates. Called to the bar in 1794, he soon obtained
a high reputation for eloquence, and gradually got into practice, but was chiefly
eminent, during nearly thirty years, for his connection with the Edinburgh Rc-
vieiGt as contributor and editor. The first number appeared October 25, 1802.
and three editions were exhausted in as many weeks. It soon became, what
it has ceased to be, the able &nd recognised orj,-f».n of the liberal party in Great
Britain. In 1829, when the profession chose him Dean of the Faculty (of Jaw),
Jeffrey retired from the Review. In 1830, he was appointed Lord-Advocate of
Scotland, under the Grey Ministry, and entered Parlia/.u'.it, where he by no
means distinguished himself. In 1834, he was promoted to the Scottish bench,
where, applying all the great powers of his mind to the task, he became cue
of the best Judges that ever adorned that high station. He died in 1850. — M.

t Henry George Herbert, second Earl of Carnarvon, bom in 1772. died in
1833, aged sixty-one. His son and successor, then Lord Porchester, h;ui His-
dnguisr-?! himself as the author of "The Moor," and other poems. — M,

A BATCH OF NOBLES. 347

ing Earl of Errol,* blooming with the most healthful roseate;
and immediately behind followed Sir Robert Wilson. Time
and hard service have made little impression on a set of not
very extraordinary features. There is a buoyancy about this
historic soldier which bespeaks a good Leart.t He seems to
have lost much of his fancy for senatorial display; and, truth
to tell, Parliament is not the place of all others in which he
has been destined to shine. He is one of the few whose hard
fortune in less auspicious times has stood him in good part in
later days.

On entering the room, I was struck by the superior brilliancy
of the military costumes, always the most prominent at such
times. Military rank is both common and honorable, and its
apparel seems to be in favor with all classes. Hence it is that
many, such as the lieutenants of counties, whose duty is exclu-
sively of a civil nature, adopt the fashions of the army. There
were half a dozen Lords-Lieutenant in the room, among whom
I particularly observed the Duke of Argyle.f I am told that
his Grace is a man of talent ; and his fine features, the remains
of what rendered the Marquis of Lorn one of the most eminent-
ly handsome men of his time, are now thoughtful and melan-
choly. The present Administration has given the Great Seal
of Scotland to the Duke of Argyle ; and in duty he is found

* The late Lord Errol (whose Earldom was created in 1453), was Heredi-
tary Lord High Constable of Scotland, which is the highest hereditary distinc \
tion in the United Kingdom, after those of the Royal Family. He married onej^
of the illegitimate daughters of William IV. and Mrs. Jordan, the actress, and
died in 184G, aged forty-five. — M.

t Sir Robert Wilson, who much distinguished himself by his military services
from 1793 to 1815, aided in the escape of Lavalette, from Paris, in the lattei
year. In 1821, for taking the popular side, at the funeral of Queen Caroline,
he was dismissed from the British army. A public subscription indemnified
him from the pecuniary loss, and he was reinstated some years after. From
1818 to 1831 he represented Southwark in Parliament. In 1841, he was raised
to the rank of full General. In 1842, he was appointed Governor of Gibraltar,
and had just returned from that post, after seven years' of command, when he
died suddenly, May, 1849, aged seventy-two. — M.

t The sixth Duke of Argyle, born in 1768, married Lady Caroline Villiers
(who had previously been the wife of, and had obtained a divorce from, tfyp
Marquis of Anglesey), and died jn October, l«3f>.— M,

348 LORD BKOUGHAMS LEVEE.

at the levee of its Chancellor. Along with his Grace were
several other peers of ducal rank, but whose fortunes were no
way interesting to me.

After I had paid my respects to the Chancellor, there came
tripping up the Marquis of Bristol* with a springy step, which
he must surely have .acquired at the old court of France ; for I
am sure that no such movement could be attained on English
ground. The elasticity of this noble Lord was such that, when
once put in motion, he continued to spring up and down in the
manner of the Chinese figures which are hawked by the Ital-
ian toy-venders. Had I been told that the head of the house
of Newry was a dancing-master, who had not yet learned the
present modes, I should certainly have believed the story with-
out scruple if I had met him anywhere else.

He had no sooner left the Chancellor, than he was laid hold
of by a fidgetty solicitor,! who was the only member of his
class in the room, and who, I understand, is a sort of favorite
of the Chancellor. The obsequious grin and the affected ease
of this worthy do not convey any very favorable impression
on his behalf. He was solicitor for the Queen, and in this
capacity had formed an intimacy with her chief counsel, which
an ill-natured person would perhaps think makes him now for-
get in some measure the great disparity between their present
condition. The Chancellor gave no discouragement to his fa-
miliarity.

A certain Sir Something Noel came up immediately after-
ward, of whom nothing more remarkable could be told than
that he was the relative of Lady Byron ; and is, I suppose, the
same person of whom Byron expresses himself favorably when
a temporary illness of his lady shortly after their marriage

* Nephew of the celebrated Earl of Bristol, Bishop of Derry, of whom men-
tion has already been made. In June. 1826. he was created Marquis. He is
yet alive (January, 1854), and is aged eighty-four. — M.

t This " fidgetty Solicitor" was William Vizard, subsequently made Secretarv
of Bankrupts by Lord Brougham, in 1832, a post worth, twelve hundred pounds
sterling a year, which he occupied for twenty years (until 1852), and then
contrived to get appointed, on its abolition, to an office equally valuable, which
he retains. His connection with the Queen's trial made Willlar- Vizard'a for-
ttjne. and lie is now a large landed proprietor in Gloucestershire.— -^

SIR JAMES SCARLETT. 349

looked rather gestatory.* A variety pf lords, squires, generals,
ossa 'innominata, followed, for whom the Chancellor cared per-
haps about as much as I did.

At length Sir James Scarlett was announced, and the Chan-
cellor left his place to meet him. His welcome was very
hearty. Brougham was doubtless gratified by this token of
respect from a man who was indisputably his leader in the
courts,! and for whose forensic abilities it is known that he
entertains, and has often expressed, the highest admiration.
The position of the two men was singular, and to the ex-attor-
ney not very enviable. Scarlett was in high practice before
Brougham was even called to the bar. He kept ahead of him
in their profession throughout; and twice he had filled the
first places at the bar, when the respective attainments of these
eminent persons were such, that if Brougham had been placed
before him, Scarlett would have had just ground of complaint,
and the bar would have unanimously decried the appointment.
Now. hov/ever, by one of those cross-accidents which will occur
in the most fortunate lives, Scarlett was, with strict justice and
universal acquiescence, placed below his former competitor,
and in direct opposition to all the early friends with whom he

* Sir Ralph Milbanke's wife was sister of Viscount Wentworth, and she suc-
ceeded to the estates, on condition that her name should be changed to Noel.
Her aaujrhter was married to Lord Byron, who prefixed the name of Noel to
his own. on his mother-in-law's death. Sir Ralph Noel died in 1825, and Mr.
Sheil alludes to his relative and successor, Sir John Peneston Milbanke, who
dropped the name of Noel altogether. — M.

t Perhaps this is the place where I should state the cost of the administration
of justice, which forms an important item in the national expenditure of Great
Britain. In 1852, as appears by Parliamentary returns, the whole amount was
£2,104,196, of which £645,243 was for Courts of Justice (including salaries
of Judges aiul other officials), £891,542 for police and criminal prosecution,
and £567,41] for coi'rection. In October, 1853, the Reverend Mr. Clay, chap-
lain of the House of Correction in Preston (England) in his annual report to the
magistrates, estimates the loss caused to the public by fifteen pickpockets, whose
career he has traced, including the value of the property stolen, expenses o:
prosecution, and maintenance in jail, at £26,500. That is to say, Englanc
was at an expense of £1,766 for each of these worthies— a sum, one tithe
of which, if judiciously applied at the proper time, would probably have suf-
ficed to make them useful members of society. — M.

350 LORD BROUGHAM'S LEVEE.

commenced his political career.* It was matter of necessity
and of course that he should go out when his employers were
obliged to surrender office ; and no man could complain that
Brougham should then be elevated to a distinction, which in
other circumstances Scarlett might have thought his own by
indisputable right. The Chancellor remained longer in con-
versation with Sir James than any of the other distinguished
persons who appeared. Indeed, his anxiety to show this at-
tention produced rather awkward effects. While they were
closely together, Jocky Bell, as he is commonly called, the
very eminent Chancery barrister, came in sight; but he was
suffered to waddle about for some time before he caught the
eye of the Chancellor.! Before the conversation with Sir
James was finished, there were a good many others in the
same unreceived plight, and the Chancellor was obliged to give
them a hasty discharge.

The Speaker of the House of Commons was then announced.
Brougham and he met as warm friends, though certainly men
having little in kindred. In point of talent there is no ground
of comparison ; yet it may be doubted whether they are not
nearly as great in their own way. I havo no notion of the
place which the Speaker held in Parliament before he was
elected to the chair, and I know few situations which require

* It was said thai Scaiiett, aftei-ward Lord .Abinger, " ratted" at the wrong
time. He had been liberal in politics up to 18528 (and had been Canning's
Attorney-General in 1827). but took office with the Duke of Wellington, then
an avowed Tory, and was as intolerant as renegades, whether politic*-.! or reli-
gious, usually are. In 1830. when the Whigs came into power, Scarlett had
to resign office. But, in December, 1834, when the post of Chief-Haron of
the Exchequer became vacant by Lord Lyndhurst's taking the Great Seal.
Scailett was appointed, receiving a peerage shortly after, and continued Judge
until his death in 1844. — Had he remained with the Whig party, 1 e would
probably have been appointed their Lord Chancellor in 1830. — M.

t " Jock Bel!,:> as he was called, was a friend and contemporary of Lord
Eldon's. He was notorious for writing so badly that it was said he wrote
three hands ; one, which nobody but himself could read ; a second (that in
which he gave his opinion on cases) which none but his clerk could decipher,
and a third which neither himself nor clerk could make out. It is a fact,
and the foundation of a passage in " Pickwick," that Jock Bell's clerk real-
ized a large income by making readable copies of his employer's opinions,
Which wei 3 greatly in request, on account of their ability, — JVJ,

THK SPKAKKR. 351

more tact and management. In these qualifications the pres-
ent Speaker is signally gifted.* He brings a degree of good-
nature to the office which no event, however untoward, can
ruffle : his calmness never forsakes him ; he is the same easy,
dignified chairman at all times. The Commons are a truly
turbulent body, but they are not impatient of his sway. In
all emergencies he is vigorously supported : in his hands, the
authority of his office, though rarely exercised, has lost none
of its force. Brougham himself was one of the most fiery
spirits in this hot region ; but a word from the Speaker would
calm him in an instant. Among other qualifications for com-
mand, he is possessed of a fine, mellow, deep-toned voice,
which, while it powerfully enunciates " Order," frees the
command from all harshness or severity. As the first com-
moner in the land, and a truly estimable gentleman, he was
entitled to be well received. But I doubt, if deprived of his
chair, whether he could insure much regard on the score of his
talents. Let me not, however, shade the picture which I have
already drawn ; it is manifest that Mr. Stittoli is a general fa-
vorite. Every one was eager to pass a minute or two with
him. I was much pleased to witness a frank greeting between
him and old William Smith, who is not now in the House of
Commons ; but who, before he left it, enjoyed the patriarchal
rank of being the father of the body.t The Speaker told him
that they had not much mended since he left. Longer speeches
— more of them — later hours, and fewer divisions — were the
characteristics of the session, compared with its predecessors.

Lord Far nh am, | a bluff, weather-beaten old Irish Lord —
the unflinching enemy of the Catholics, and the equally-deter-

* Charles Manners Sutton, speaker of the House of Commons from 1817 to
1834:- created Viscount Canterbury in 1835; and died July, 1845. He was
very popular as speaker, and allowed himself to be re-elected (after the Reform
Bill was passed in 1832) at the especial request of the Grey Ministry. — M

t This William Smith, who had a seat in Parliament for forty-six years, win
latterly Member for Norwich. He attacked Southey. in Parliament, as a " ran-
corous renegade," and was replied to by the poet in nervous and indignant
prose. William Smith wag ultra-liberal in politics. He died in 1835, aged
seventy-nine. — M.

t John Barry Maxwell, fifth Lord Fawhtim, born in 1767, died in 1838. — M.

352 LORD BROUGHAM'S LEVEE.

mined enemy of Reform — got hold of the Speaker; and, in
the course of a brief conversation, the latter informed him that
for eight entire days and nights he had never been from under
the roof of the House of Commons. The House had been sit-
ting from three o'clock in the afternoon till three and four
o'clock in the morning; and then the business of the commit-
tees commenced at ten o'clock, to which he was obliged to
give a good deal of attention. He spoke of the labor as being
greater than any physical strength could endure. When this
fact is known, it ceases to be wonderful that he should be
anxious, as has been long reported, to exchange the conspicu-
ous and most honorable situation which he now holds, for that
of the youngest peerage, and become second to such insignifi-
cancies as Bexley and Sidmouth.* Leaving Farnham, the
Speaker was engaged for a short time with Lord Nugent and
the Marquis of Clanricarde.+ Both of these noble Lords ap-
peared in the splendid costJime which I believe is characterin-
tic of the diplomatic corps. Nugent is evidently :i person of
the most accomplished manners. The perpetual play of good-
humor on his agreeable features shows that the severity of his
politics does not arise from any harshness of disposition. It
will be recollected that he was the subject of one of Canning's
pleasantries in regard to the Portuguese expedition ; which,
however, had little point, unless his Lordship had been a very
stout man — but this is not the fact. A much larger person
than Lord Nugent would have occasioned no inconvenience to

* The late Nicholas Vansittart, Chancellor of the Exchequer, from IS 12 tc
1823, was created Baron Bexley. Henry Addington, successively Speaker.
Premier, and Home Secretary, was created Viscount Sidmouth in 1805, and
died in 1844.— M.

t Lord Nugent, born in 1789. sat in Parliament over twenty years; was
Lord-Commissioner of the Ionian Islands fiom 1832 to 1835; and died in
November, 1850. His politics were liberal, and he had considerable literary
taste. — The Marquis of Clanricarde, Canning's son-in-law, was born in 1802,
represents the De Burgh or Burke family, and claims to be descended from
Charlemagne. He has been Ambassador to Russia, and Postmaster-General.
Before 1831, there was a good deal of town-talk about a young man of prop-
erty having been " piffeoned1' at cards, at Richmond, near London, and it was
said that Lord Clanricarde was one of the party ; but the scandal blew ovej
»nd no proof was given of the imputations en " the noble Marquis." — M.

LORD DENMAN. 353

tlie lieavy Falmouth van. Lord Clanricarde is only remarka-
ble for his connection with Canning. His countenance is any-
thing but pleasing: his fondness for play is well known, and
had at one time placed him in a disagreeable dilemma.

The last person of note who arrived, before I departed, was
Sir Thomas Denman.* The Chancellor was engaged with
some one at the moment, and nothing passed between them
but an exchange of bows. It was nearly ten years since I had
seen Brougham and Denman together : the Queen's trial was
then the all-engrossing topic of public consideration. Who
could then have foretold that these men would have in so short
a space won the confidence of a sovereign, whom they attacked
with a degree of virulence which, even in those days of party
violence, was generally condemned 1 The change in feeling
is creditable alike to all.

* Thomas Denman, bom in February, 1779, and created Baron Denman, of
Dovedale, in the County Derby, in March, 1834, was son of a physician in Lon-
don. He was called to the bar in 1806 ; went the Midland circuit, entered
Parliament in 1818: became Solicitor-General to Queen Caroline in 1820 ; was
elected Common Sergeant of London, in 1822 ; was made King's Counsel,
with a patent of precedency, in 1826 ; was made Attorney-General, under the
Grey Ministry in 1830; was made Chief Justice of England in 1832; raised
to the peerage in 1834 : and compelled, under Lord John Russell's Ministry, ic
1850. to resign, on the plea of advanced years, to make room for Lord Camp-
bell (only two years his junior), for whom a job of the same character had beer
perpetrated, in 1841. when Lord Plunket was literally turned out of the Irish
Chancellorship, in order to give Lord Campbell a legal claim to a life-pension
of four thousand pounds sterling. As an advocate, Denman was bold and elo-
quent: his denunciation, on the Queen's trial, of the Duke of Clarence (after-
ward William IV.) as a " royal slanderer,'* was decided and fearless — ten year*
afterward, this prince, as Sovereign, accepted Denman as his first law officer.
As a judge, "he was just and constitutional. In politics, he has always beer,
liberal. In Parliament, he was a ready debater. During the Reform Bill dis-
cussions. Sir C. Wetherell compared Old Sarum (for which three men elected
two members) to Macedon. " Yes," replied Denman, " Macedon was ruled
bv an Alexander:'' — an East India Director, named Alexander, being one of
the (so-called) representatives of this nominal borough, with one house, three
voters, and two Members, while Manchester, population four hundred thou-
sand, was wholly unrepresented — M.

J

STATE OF PARTIES IN DUBLIN, IN issi.

ON the 5th of this month of May [1831], my business led me
into the Four Courts, Dublin ; and on the way, by a train of
associations too obvious to require to be analyzed, my mind
involuntarily reverted to the past, and took note of the vicis-
situdes produced since I last wrote. But it war> only ^rhen
I found my?e.lf in that emporium of law, and politics, and gos-
sip— the Hall of the Four Courts — that I felt in all their
force the variety and extent of those mutations. The scene
and the majority of the ictors were still the same, and the
general resemblance, at the first view, appeared unimpaired ;
but, upon a nearer scrutiny, how striking and singular had
been the changes !

Of these actors, for instance, one of the first that attracted
my attention was Mr. William Bellew, a Roman Catholic bar-
rister of great personal respectability, and of just repute in cer-
tain departments of his profession. In his general aspect there
was little perceptible aeration. Time, as if from a kindly
feeling toward an old acquaintance, seemed to have spared
him more than younger men. I found the same spire-like alti-
tude of frame ; the same solemn, spectral stride ; the same grave
and somewhat querulous, but not undignified cast of feature
" In his own proper person," in face and form, Mr. Bellew was
such as I had seen him in his penal days ; but what a transfig-
uration had been accomplished in his gown ! How omnipo-
tent must have been that act of Parliament which had substi-
tuted his present rustling silk attire for the dingy, tattered
fustian, in which I had so often seen him haunting the pre-
cincts of the Court of Chancery, and which he had vowed to

NICHOLAS PUBCEL o'GOKMAtf. 355

Wear while a rag of it remained, as an eneign of reproach to
the presiding bigot of the court ! But Lord Manners and his
tenets had passed away, and Mr. Bellew's epitaph may state
that he too, in his generation, w.as one of his Majesty's counsel-
at-la\v.

My eye, turning from Mr. Bellew, soon rested upon several
other barristers of his creed, who, like him, had been taking
the benefit of the statute. Among them, and apparently the
youngest of the group, was Mr. O'Loghlin, upon whom Emanci-
pation had fortunately come just at a period of his crveer
when promotion, being possible, was inevitable. He is already
one of the three sergeants, and, if the orisons of the public can
confer length of days, the highest judicial office is his certain
destination.

But the most singular of those metamorphoses, which, \*-'ien
I last addressed you, it would have been maniacal to have pre-
dicted, was exhibited in the personal identity and present offi-
cial attributes of the worthy ex-Secretary of the ex-Catholic
Association, Mr. Nicholas Purcel O'Gorman. This excellent
and best-tempered of organized beings, who, during a i.'le de-
voted to the angry politics of Ireland, has made as many fronds
as another would have created enemies — who was eA sr frank
and fearless in the expression of his opinions, even though one
of those opinions was and is that " St. Paulrwas a decided
Orangeman" — now stood before me, transformed into nothing
less than a public functionary, by title Cursitor, of that very
court in which Mr. Saurin had pleaded and Lord Manners had
presided. The selection, I am bound to add, has been pro-
nounced by the public, from whose discernment in such mat-
ters there is no appeal, to have been worthy of the exalted
person to whom, fortunately for Ireland, higher functions thai
the extension of mere acts of considerateness toward meritori
ous individuals have been again committed.

I approached the group, to whom Mr. O'Gorman, who ha J
been recently sworn in, was detailing with humorous exagger-
ation the weighty responsibilities that had descended upon his
rather Atlantean shoulders. The Cursitor's office, I collected
/row hint, was one of the great fountain-heads of justice, whence

356

STATE OF PARTIES IN

litigation flowed in streams or torrents through the land. It
was emphatically l\\& officina brevium, the inner temple of ori-
ginal writs, and the Cursitor the high-priest, without whose
signature, now written with majestic brevity, "O'Gorman,"
those sacred documents would, want their legal potency. I
w*ts gratified, however, to hear Mr. O'Gorman add, which he
{lid with a glance of no doubtful meaning at one of his audi-
tors, who had been an unsuccessful expectant under the old
regime, that his hierarchal cares were in some measure soothed
by sundry daily and not unwelcome offerings from the devo-
tees at the shrine over which he had been appointed to pre-
side. It was an office of trust coupled with emolument, a co-
incidence which Mr. O'Gorman, though a stanch reformer, very
justly pronounced to be not incongruous.

These are single i!K<tances of the changes which the surface
presenred, but I could multiply them without number; wher-
ever I looked around, I found abundant evidences, had I other-
wise been unaware of the fact, that the genius of Mr. Gregory,*
no longer presided in the government of Ireland. Religious
peace, and never was a peace more just and necessary, had
been picclaimed ; and, after it, had followed in due course the
gradual decline of as hateful a faction as had ever desolated
and insulted a devoted country. There was, however, no want
of excitement. It had changed its character, but was as active
in its way as in those dreary times when Mr. Lefroy's theology
and Master Ellis's statesmanship found favor at the Castle.
The groups of animated bustlers in the Hall were no longer
discussing the divided allegiance of the Catholics, or holding
a drum head inquiry over Mr. Shell's last speech at the Asso-
ciation, but much was said of schedule A — of its multiform
abominations by the smaller and more hopeless politicians —
of its wisdom and necessity by others, and among them not a
few who conceived it to be both wise and necessary to declare
their opinions in favor of reform. But I soon discovered that

* Of William Gregory (who was Privy Councillor and under-Secretary fo»
Ireland) mention has air; ady been made in one of the notes on I/o-il Norbnn,
page 36, in this volume. Mr. Gregory was a " Protestant Ascendency" ii «*
His son represented Dublin, in Parliament, for a time. — M,

TMfc CANDIDATES.

tlie buzz around me turned upon a matter of a still more imme-
diate interest; an active canvass was going forward. Tlie
Dublin election waa fixed for the follDwing day ; and tlie pop-
ular party, in perfect accordance upon this occasion with the
wishes of the Government, had determined upon attempting a
decisive blow. Committees had been sitting ; subscription-lists
opened ; Mr. William Murphy sent for; an earnest but amica-
ble conflict of opinion had ensued : Mr. Murphy, with the cau-
tior of long experience, was strenuous in his advice that they
should run no risks, but, by concentrating their forces, secure
the return of one member. " Delenda est Carthago" was the
cry of Sergeant O'Loghlin and Mr. Blake, and the bolder
counsel had prevailed : two reform candidates had been started
agninst the corporation of Dublin.

The competitors upon this stirring occasion were the late
members, Messrs. Moore and Shaw, who rested their preten-
sions on their love of corporations, and their hatred of reform;
Mr. (now Sir Robert) Harty,* the Lord-Mayor of Dublin, and
Mr. Louis Perriii, an eminent member of the Irish bar. The
two latter announced themselves as sturdy reformers.

Of Mr. George Moore I can not tell you much, for I only
know of him what the public knows.t He is, I should sup-
pose, between fifty and sixty years of age. There is nothing
remarkable in his face or person. He is a man of mild man-
ners and violent opinions; can make a long speech on most
subjects, either in or out of Parliament ; is the proprietor of an
ample sinecure in one of our courts; and much regarded by
his personal acquaintances. The only singular events in the
history of his life that I have heard recorded were, his first
return for the city of Dublin, and an incident connected with
it. The day preceding that fixed for the election had closedr
and the corporation, still in search of a fit and proper nominee,

* Sir Robert Harty, who was made a Baronet in September, 1331, was r.
libera,' :n politics. He was an Alderman of the old Dublin Corporation, and
was Lord-Mayor in 1830-' J. Though he and Mr. Perrin were elected, as sta-
ted ny Mr. Shell, their triumph was short-lived, for they were unseated on pe-
tition.— M.

t Mr. Geoi^e (>;.'> Moore, who was M. P. for Dublin, for a short time, was
cr.e o.r *he most undistinguished men in Parliament. — M.

StATti 01- 1'ARTIKB IN DUBLIN.

continued their deliberations through the nu>;ht Mr. Moore,
as yet unthought of, retired at his accustomed hour to repose.
At midnight, as the story goes, he was suddenly awakened,
and saw at his hedside the portly form of Master Ellis, deputed
from the still-sitting committee, to know if he would consent to
be returned to Parliament from his native city. Mr. Moore
rubbed his eyes, pressed tLe Master's hand more closely, to as-
certain that it was a hand of flesh and blood ; saw visions of Par-
liamentary renown start up before him, and thinking that n<no
he surely could not be dreaming, gave his assent. The next
day he was the member for Dublin: the "Mirror of Parlia-
ment" tells the rest.

Mr. Frederick Shaw is a much younger man than Mr. Moore.
He was called to the bar in the year 1822, and for the first
five years gave no signs of his subsequent prosperity.* He
was assiduous, but in no way distinguished. The first occa-
sion upon which the courts became familiar with his name was
in 1827, upon the arrival of Sir Anthony Hart as the Lord
Chancellor of Ireland. Sir William M'Mahon, the Master of
the Rolls, conceived that in him was vested the power of ap-
pointing a particular officer of his own court. Former Chan-
sellors, however, had claimed and exercised the right of ap-
pointment, and Sir Anthony Hart announced that he would
follow their example. The Master of the Rolls, desirous that
the question should undergo a solemn discussion and adjudica-
tion, nominated his relative, Mr. Shaw, to the office in dispute.
Mr. Shaw presented a petition to the lord-Chancellor, praying
to be admitted to the performance of ihe duties, and the per-
ception of the profits, and Mr. Saurin appeared as the leading
counsel in support of the claim.

The matter, in itself, was one of no sort of public interest:
it was a irere question of patronage between two judicial dig-

* Frederick Shaw, whose early appointment to the Recordership of Dublir
excited much discussion at the time, probahly owed his preferment to the fad
that his aunt was wife of the late Sir William M'Mahon, then Master of the
Rolls in Ireland. Mr. Shaw, where politics did not bias him, gave satisfaction
as a judge. He was a Privy Councillor and repres? Ved •he University of Dub-
lin in several Parliaments. — M.

CHANCELLOR HART. 359

nitarles ; yet wondrous was the interest, or at least the curios-
ity, with which the proceedings were watched, and the result
conjectured. Tt had the novelty of being the first case in any
way peculiar, and that one relating to himself individually,
upon which the newly-imported Chancellor was to be called
upon to decide. It was expected by sundry shrewd solicitors
that litigation, even between two such high contending parties
would produce the usual feelings of personal estrangement, and.
as a profitable result, that appeals from the Rolls to the Chan-
cellor would not fail to be multiplied ; while others, who had
been often made to" smart under Sir William's inexorable rules
and orders, were delighted to find that his Honor for once had
a prospect of feeling in his own purse what it was to have the
prayer of a petition refused with costs.

These were the effusions of the mere idle gossip of the Hall,
and excited nothing but amusement; but pending the discus-
sion, an incident occurred which sent a profounder feeling
through the courts and the country. In the course of his ar-
gument, Mr. Saurin, for the moment oblivious of the recent
change of Chancellors, implored of the Court to recollect
the seditious spirit that was abroad, arid the factious disposi-
tion daily manifested to bring even the highest public func-
tionaries into contempt — a disposition which " the continuance
of the present litigation would not fail to foster and gratify.'*
This was a topic to which Lord Manners would have listened
with all the nervous attention of a weak mind overawed by
the horrors of a phantom-story. The healthier intellect of Sir
Anthony saw in it nothing but its inappropriateness. He in-
terposed, saying: "If th«».te be any spirit abroad which would
lead persons to degrade the higher authorities of the country,
my opinion is, that that spirit can only be met and counteract-
ed by those who hold such high situations having their motives
and their actions exposed to the fullest public scrutiny. When
these motives and that conduct are properly placed before the
world, they may be satisfied that both will be rightly appreci-
ated by the public : and so much, Mr. Saurin, for that topic."
The effect of these few simple words in the Irish Court of Chan-
try was electrical. Mr. Saurin was disconcerted ; his Bruua-

STATE OF PARTIES IN

wick friends beside him panic-struck ; Sergeant Lefroy looked
first up to heaven, and then full in the face of his valued friend
Mr. Henchy ; Mr. Henchy responded with a look at once his-
torical and prophetic; a buzz of perturbation passed along the
benches of the outer bar; while Mr. Eccles Cuthbert (almost
the sole surviving Whig of the olden time) rushed forth from
the Court toward the Hall, and, standing at the top of tlifl
Chancery-steps, proclaimed to a group that he beckoned round
him the joyful tidings that "if he" (Mr. Cuthbert) "could in-
terpret the signs of the times — and he thought he could — the
influence of Saurin and his party was gone for ever."

But, to return to Mr. Shaw — the decision of the Chancellor
was against him, but he was quickly consoled for the disap-
pointment. The Recorderslrp of Dublin becoming vacant, he
had the good fortune to be ele -*-ed to the office. The public
were at first dissatisfied with the selection — chiefly, however,
because it had fallen upon so juvenile a person ; but it is only
justice to Mr. Shaw to state that l\e has proved himself per-
fectly competent to the discharge of the judicial functions that
were thus rather prematurely cast upon him. As the Recorder
of Dublin, he is an assiduous and excellent public officer. I
would further say that this is the very office for which he is
peculiarly adapted. Es performs the substantial duties effi-
ciently, and wants not the leading ornamental requisites for
those matters of municipal ceremony in 'which he is called
upon, virtute officii, to bear a prominent part. His aspect may
still be over-youthful ; in fact, when he appears at a civic fes-
tival attired in his legal costume, his smooth and pallid face
arid rather feminine features present a strong similitude to
Portia in the scene where she holds a brief against Shylock ;
but ample compensation for this deficiency (if it be one) is
made in the proportions of his frame, which possess all the
necessary corporate rnassiveness and rotundity for the scenic
business of a Lord Mayor's day. I have seen him perform on
such occasions with much effect, and with the bearing of ar
actor that liked his part. As the Ilecorder of an ancient and
loyal corporation, Mr. Frederick Shaw is just where he ougl.s
to be. He has no unseemly contempt for pageantry ; and, fo?

LOUIS I»ER£1N. 36 i

city purposes, is a most discreet and emphatic orator. He can
descant, with siiitaLlb amplitude of phrase, upon the sanctity
of chartered rights, and can deliver the prescriptive lecture to an
incoming Lord-Mayor, upon his civic responsibilities, in terms
of the most stately and appropriate commonplace. To such
duties he is equal, and not above them. — I pass on to the other
candidates.

Sir Robert Harty is a citizen of Dublin, who has risen by
his industry to considerable affluence. In the corporation, of
which he has long been one of the most influential members,
he has been noted for his attachment to liberal principles. He
is the brother-in-law of Alderman M'Kenny, who in his year
of mayoralty (1819) had the courage to convene a general
meeting of the Protestants of Dublin, to petition in favor of
Catholic Emancipation. Sir Robert Harty 's civic career has
been marked by an official act— less conspicuous, it is true,
but of similar boldness. When the Roman Catholic delegates
were prosecuted by the Government in 1812, he was one of the
Sheriffs of Dublin, and empanelled an impartial jury for their
trial. This gave great offence, and both in and out of the cor-
poration the honest Sheriff had much to endure for having
done his duty ; but he has fortunately lived to find that sen-
tence of condemnation in those times now forms one of his most
valid titles to public confidence. So g'-eat was the imagined
strength of the corporation of Dublin, that for some days Sir
Robert Harty was the solitary candidate upon reform princi-
ples. More than one of the commercial body of Dublin, though.
strongly urged by the popular party to become his colleague
had declined. The bar was then resorted to. A union of the
most important qualifications was found in Mr. Pen-in, who,
after repeated solicitations, consented to give the public the
use of his name and character for the advancement of the great
imperial measure.

Mr. Perriri was called to the bar in 1806. There was noth-
ing sudden or brilliant in his ascent to professional distinction.
He was patient and persevering; and in his deportment,
whether in or out of court, simple and unobtrusive. Even af-
ter the extension of his character for learning and ability had

VOL. II.— 16

362 STATE OF PAItTlES IN DUBLIN.

brought him into full practice, there was so little forensic dig
play in his manner — >what he said upon each occasion was
always so much to the purpose, and consequently so short and
direct— that a stranger to his professional repute would have
principally inferred, from the frequency of his appearances in
court, that he was already high among the most eminent conn
lei of his day.*

Mr. Perrin is, I believe, universally admitted to be the best
common-law lawyer of the Irish bar. It is probably to be at-
tributed in some degree to early accidents that his studies and
practice should have been exclusively confined to this depart-
ment; but I apprehend that an original peculiarity of his mind
had also much to do in keeping him out of the courts of equity.
I have heard it related of him that, from the commencement
of his legal studies, he felt a deep and unconquerable distaste
to equity -pleading — to that system under which, as a matter
of ordinary routine, fifty false charges may be made against a
miserable defendant on the chance of eliciting a single truth,
and under which the same defendant, if knavishly disposed,
and aided by a dexterous pleader, may resort to as many de-
vices to evade a direct and intelligible reply. I can easily
conceive that a mind like Mr. Perrin's, always seeking accu-
racy of thought and brevity of expression, should have turned
with disgust from the farrago of long-winded fictions, and end-
less repetitions, and wordy superfluities, which form the staple
of Chancery pleadings ; but whatever the motive, he has,
almost from the outset of his career, confined himself to the
common-law courts ; among them the King's Bench has been
the principal theatre of his exertions. Assiduous application
and long experience have rendered him familiar with all the
great branches of the law that are brought into discussion be-
fore that tribunal ; and, to an intimate knowledge of his subject,
he unites logical powers of the highest order. His diction,
though clear and vigorous, is not always fluent; but the occa-

* Louis Perrin, one of the most able and honest of the Irish bar, was nromo
ted, in due course, when the Liberal party were in power, and is now (January,
1854) third judge of the Court of Queen's Bench, Ii-eland. In Parliament ne
was a useful and laborious, rather than an oratorical member. — M.

LOUIS PEKKTN. 363

fiional tardiness of phrase to wliicli I allude, and which detracts
little from the force or effect of his reasonings, appears to be
very much the result of acquired habits of mastery over the
most important operations of his mind. If he sometimes pauses
for a moment, it is not that he is in want of matter or of words,
but that he is determined and able to retain and exercise a
control over both ; ifc is that, even while his mind is hurrying
along a rapid chain of reasoning, he still preserves the power
of arresting a thought in its progress from conception to expres-
sion, and of ascertaining its fitness for his purpose before he
allows it irrevocably to pass his lips ; and the result of the en-
forcement of this inward discipline is, that, though his language
may be rendered less continuous, liis argument is sure of being
better for the delay. If Mr. Pen-in could consent to be a less
cautious and accurate reasoner, he would, I am satisfied, be-
come at once a more fluent speaker ; but he reasons everything,
abhorring all flashy declamation, and guided by a special in-
stinct against the use of words for talking-sake.

Having thus shortly referred to Mr. Perrin's professional
qualifications, I need hardly add that he has for many years
commanded the leading business of the Court of King's Bench.
Among the cases constantly occurring on the criminal side of
that court, thare is one el£,£S in which he appears to have estab-
lished a sort of personal property (for he is never omitted) : I
allude to appeals from convictions by magistrates under penal
statutes, particularly those relating to the customs and excise.
In such cases the offending party has usually a twofold chance
of escape — in the blunders of the legislator, and in those of
the convicting magistrates. The leaning of the court is always
to uphold such convictions ; but Mr. Pen-in, with his sagacity,
and pertinacious logic, and adroit application of authorities
that bear, or appear to bear, upon the point, seldom fails to
demonstrate to the full satisfaction of every mind in court (ex
cept perhaps his own) that something, in substance or in form,
has been wanting to legalize the proceedings from which his
clients have appealed.

The subject-matter of such discussions is in general devoid
of popular interest ; but they sometimes acquire from incidental

364 STATE OF PARTIES IN DUBLIN

circumstances no small degree of scenic effect. I remember,
for instance, to have seen some years since one of the side-
galleries of the Court of King's Bench occupied by an entire
jhip's crew of Dutch smugglers, brought up, under writs of
\abeas corpus, from one of the prisons on the southern coast of
Ireland ; and while Mr. Perrin, as their counsel, was moving
;hat they should be discharged from illegal custody, and pres-
sing the court with arguments and cases, it was curious to ob-
serve his weather-beaten clients, with their bluff figures and
contraband visages, how intently they looked on as their fate
was debated in (to them) an unknown tongue, and with what
a singular promptness they appeared to discover, from mere
external signs — from the looks and gestures of the Judges or
the auditors — that their counsel was making way with the
court. Their deliverance, I recollect, was effected ; and if they
and the hundreds of others of their trade and country, whom
Mr. Perrin has similarly rescued from an Irish prison, have any
gratitude, his must be a well-known and popular name in the
Dutch ports.

Mr. Perrin's professional eminence was not his sole ground
of claim to the honor of representing the city of Dublin in Par-
liament : he had a further and stronger recommendation to
the public confidence in the vigor and integrity of his personal
character. The political principles which he avows have now,
in the circle of events, become the reigning doctrine of the day,
and the merit may be small of professing such principles at the
present moment. Mr. Perrin's praise is, that what he now is,
he has always been ; that under circumstances the most ad-
verse to professional advancement, he entered into no compro-
mise between his interests and opinions, but in every stage of
-his progress asserted himself and the dignity of his profession
by an erect and independent bearing; he did so in a temper
and spirit the most remote from faction, but he met with little
mercy. He had incurred the virtue of public spirit, and was
marked for discouragement — even the poor distinction of a
silk-gown was delayed until Lord Manners's last general levee
of King's counsel j and even then it was understood that Mr.
Verriu would have been designedly omitted, had not the Lord

POPULAE TRIUMPH. 365

Chief-Justice, to whose better spirit what is just and manly
is -always familiar, peremptorily interposed his authority, as the
head of the common-law bar, against an act of such unworthy
partisanship.

I fear that I am trespassing on the ground of the " Sketches
of the Irish Bar ;" but, as I have gone so far,* let me say a
word of Mr. Perrin's personal appearance. It is not so re-
markable as to attract examination; but when you examine it,
you find its unostentatious simplicity to be strikingly accord-
ant with his mind and character. His figure is about the nrd-
dle size, and slightly approaching to corpulence. He has black
hair, a dark complexion, and regular Roman features. Though
no one has a quicker perception of mirth, or enjoys it more
heartily, the habitual expression of his countenance is grave-
ness, even perhaps to a touch of sadness; the latter, however,

* Mr. Perrin was worthy of a distinct place in those " Sketches," for few
lawyers haH so much to contend with, on account of particular family circum-
stances (of no interest to the public), which, for a time clouded his prospects.
The touch of sadness upon his countenance was caused, I doubt not, by the mis-
conduct of a near relative, which met with exemplary punishment from the law.
The Irish attorneys, among whom this person had once been enrolled, considered
it hard that an innocent man should suffer, from a sort of reflected cloud, and
generously showed their sympathy, by throwing as much business into Mr.
Perrin's hands as they safely could. In a short time, proving equal to the labor,
his great ability obtained, as a right, that practice which, at first had been con-
ceded as a favor. In customs and excise cases, he was unapproached, almost from
the first. — As I am on a legal question, and have arrived at the close of this
work, let me add, in reference to the conviction of John Scanlan, at Limerick,
in 1820, for murder on the Shannon (as detailed in the sketch called " An Irish
Circuit," in the first volume), that Mr. Sheil treating of the facts, and Gerald
Griffin, working them up into romantic fiction, strangely omitted two strong
points. The first, as to motive. Sullivan confessed to Scanlan's desire to
get rid, by murder, of the poor young creature whom he had seduced (by mock
marriage), " because she kept calling him her husband." The second, show-
ing the malice prepense, was that the crime was delayed until Scanlan had pur-
cl^ised a boat, in which the victim was to be earned out of sight of land, and
there " done to death," and until a blacksmith had made a chain and collar to
tie round her neck, attached to a heavy stone, to sink the body. I have read
the report of the trial, since I annotated Mr. Sheil's detail of facts, but only in
time to put the statement into this place. — At this last moment, too, I perceive
that the Marchioness Wellesley (the heroine of the Dublin Tabinet Ball, Vol. I.)
died at Hampton Court Palace, near London, on December 17, 1853,— M.

366 STATE OF PARTIES IN DUBLIN.

I apprehend to be nothing more than the mere trace of the
laborious occupations in which his life has been passed. On
the whole, I would say of his exterior, including face, and
form, and apparel, that it was individualized by a certain re-
publican homeliness, intimating a natural, careless manliness
of taste, and not without its peculiar dignity.

I intended, when I sat down, to have entered upon some of
the details of the Dublin election and its sequel ; but the sub-
ject, I find, would carry me too far: let me therefore for the
present merely say that, after an obstinate struggle, the corpo-
ration, that cumbrous excrescence upon our institutions, was
fairly prostrated, and the popular candidates returned. The
triumph was celebrated with all due rites and solemnities. I
witnessed the chairing from a window in Graf ton street. The
sun shone brightly on the procession as it passed — but not
more brightly than the countenance of our venerable and pa-
triotic veteran, Mr. Peter Burrowes, who had taken his station
at an opposite balcony, and looked down (as his friend Louis
Perrin was wafted along) with a smile of joyous and ineffable
thanksgiving, that he had been spared to see that day.

INDEX.

ABDUCTION, Ti-ials for, i., 42
Abercrombie, James, Speaker of the

Commons, ii., 207 ; Sinccurist, Peer,

and Ten si oner, 225

Abinger, Lord (See Sir James Scar-
lett).

Acres, Tbe Fifteen, ii., 166
Adelaide, Queen, and the Melbourne

Ministry, ii., 209
Affidavit, Oratory of the, i., 72
Agrarian Disturbances, Causes of, ii.,

71

" All Ireland, Member for," i., 257
" All the Talents," in Office, i., 240 ;

can not carry Catholic Emancipation,

367
American compared with English and

Irish Bar, i., 272
American Mnivhioness (Wellesley), }.,

333; ii., 365
Amherst, Lord, his Embassy to Chinn,

i., 183; ii., 385
Anglesey, Marquis of, encourages Irish

Agitation, i., 387 ; Memoir of, ii., 255
Antidote, The, Sir Harcourt Lees' Jour-
nal, i., 349

Anti-Tithe Emeule in Limerick, i.,229
Appeals, heard by the Peers, i., 175
Approvers, Irish, i., 23 ; ii., 54
Argyle, Duke of, ii., 347
Aristocracy, Irish Catholic, i., 365 ;

join Catholic Association, 380
Assistant-Barristers, Duties of, i., 67 ;

as County Judges, ii., 100
Assizes, at Limerick, i., 151 ; at Wex-

ford, i., 287 ; at Clonmel, ii., 14
Associations, Catholic, their History,

i., 359
Attorney and Barrister, different Status

of, i., 28
Attorneys, how admitted to the Bar,

AUTHOR'S INTKOIXJCTIO.V, i., 1?
Avocal, a French, i., 195
Avonmore, Lord ( Barry Yflvertor;), No-
tice of, i., 25 ; Friendship for Curran,
303

Ball, the Dublin Tabinet. i., 328
BAR, Calamities of the, i., 186

Costume in Ireland, ii., 1 "**

Catholics excluded ftom t".. 3 i. ,90

License of the, i., 277

American compared with the Eng-
lish and Irish, i., 272

Catholic, ii., 75

French, i., 194

Irish, i., 62 ; Qualifications for

65 ; Discipline for, 66 ; Inaei.cnderce
of, 68

Precedence at the, ii., 98 ; Train

ing for the, 156

Bar-Mess, Mock Trials before, i., 27
Bar Travelling, Etiquette of, i., 21
Barrington, Sir Jonah, Notice of, i.
247 ; at Dublin Election, 270 ; Scene
with Lord Norbury, ii., 7
Barrister and Attorney, different Status

of, i., 28

Barrister,Confessionsofa.Tunior, ii.,154
Barristers, Irish, Term Dinners in Lon-
don, ii., 156

Barry, Sir Charles, Architect, i., 254
Beaconsfield, Goold's Visit to, i., 242
Beauty, Irish, at Tabinet Ball, i., 331
Bedford, Duke of, Irish Viceroy, i., 159
Bell, Jocky, Notice of, ii., 350
Bellamy's, i., 158; Scene at, ii., 251
Bellew, Sir Edward, ii., 92
Bellew, William, Catholic Barrister, ii.,
92; Admission, 93; Demeanor, 94;
extensive Practice, 96 ; Pension. 98 ;
Religious Profession and Practice,
104 ; Scene in the Rolls Court wicb,
105 ; Promo tion? 354

INDEX.

Berosfords, the, i-, 242

Best, Cliief-JuBtico (Lord Wynford),

i., 278

Bethel, Counsellor ' of the Half-Crown,'
Si., 113

BcxK-y, Lord, Notice of, ii., 352

Biiincoiii, Charles, his Mode of Travel-
ling i., 287
Bible-Teaching, O'Connell on, i., 2*23

Blackbumc, Lord-Chancellor, an Auti-
CythoHc, ii . 120; his Demeanor,
126; his earlv Anti-Ci:rran Manifes-
tation, 128 ; Fiofii -ess at the Bar, 12£ ,
Sits as Judge under the Insurrection
Act, 130; his Promotions, 133

Blake, Anthony Richard, i.,79 ; a Cath-
olic Privy Councillor, ii., 78 ; Edu-
cation Commissioner, 260

Blarney-Stone, the, i., 63

B oomhYld, Lord, Notice of, i., 388

Bolster's Magazine of Ireland, i., 12

Motile-Riot, the, i.,266 ; Trial for, 279

•ioulter, Primate, i., 360; ii., 88

Brady, Maxiere, Lord-Chancellor of
Ireland, ii., 134

Bridge of Wexford, Massacre on the,
i., 297

3rinkley, Bishop, the Astronomer, i.,
330

Bristol, Earl of (Bishop of Deny), No-
tice of, i., 234; Anecdote of/386

Bristol, Marquis of, ii., 348

Bristol, Reform Riots in, ii., 210

Brougham, Henry, entraps Peel, ii., 34 ;
his Chancery Reform, 97 ; Memoh
of, 208; his Person, 209; his Elo-
quence, 210; Reply to Peel, 214;
Dinner to Catholic Deputation, 216;
his Conversation, 217; his Levee as
Lord-Chancellor, 339 ; his Promo-
tion, 343 ; Residence, Costume, and
Visitors, 344

Brummell, and the Duke of Leinster,
i., 344

Brunswick Clubs, ii., 315

Ruckland, Dr., Oxford Professor, ii.,
341

Buggins, Lavly Cecilia (Duchess of In-
verness), ii., 219

Bulls, Irish (vide Sir Boyle Roche),
ii., 10; Rationale of, 11

Bulwer, Sir E. Lytton, Satire on Sir
J. Scarlett, ii., 37

Barest, Sir Francis, Notice of, ii., 233 ;
his Attire, 205

Burke, Edmund, Memoir of, i, 238

Burrowes, Peter — his Absence of Mind,
i., 127 ; as an Advocate, 127 ; Notice
of, ii., 124 ; Plunket's Character of,
125

Burton, Judge, Notice of, i., 273 ; at
Clonmel Assizes, ii., 137

BUSHE, CHIEF-JUSTICE, SKETCH OF,
i., 121; Descent, 122; Early Elo-
quence, 123; an Anti-Unionist, 128;
Promotion, 132; as an Orator, 133;
Conversation and Eloquence, 135 ;
Brougham's high Opinion of, 143;
his \Vit, 144

Memoir of, i., 146; Elevation to

the Bench, 149; redeems his Fam-
ily Estate, 299 ; at Wexford Assizes,
299 ; reforms Abuses on Circuit, 302 ;
pleads against Catholic Committee,
377 ; Epigrams by, ii., 213

Butler, Charles, ii., 91 ; Memoii of, 197

Butler, Mr. Augustine, at Clare Elec-
tion, ii., 279

Butler, Sir Theobald, ii., 79; Capitu-
lation and Treaty of Limerick, 80;
pleads in Parliament against its Vio-
lation, 82 ; Argument against the Pe-
nal Code, 83 ; Death, Character, and
Epitaph, 87

Byron, Lady, ii., 3-18

Byron, Lord, Opinion of Sheridan, i.,
138; Monody on Sheridan, 139; on
Reversal of Lord E. Fitzgerald's At-
tainder, 345 ; on Royal Visit, 379 ; on
Mrs. Wilmot Horton, ii., 103 ; Opin-
ion ofCurran, 127; oa Lord Angle-
sey, 256

CALAMITIES OF THE BAR, i.,186 : Scene
in Chancery, 190 ; Life of an Emi-
nent Lawyer, 196 ; Henry MacDou-
gall, 200 ; Pomposo, 203 ; Lord Avon-
more and the Monks of the Screw,
206; Norcott, the Renegade, Story
of, 210

Callaghan, Daniel and Gerald, ii., 76

Callanan, Jeremiah, Irish Poet, i., 13

Calvin, John, burns Servetus, i., 167

Camden, Lord-Chancellor, Notice of,
i., 104; his Independence, ii., 112

Camden, Marquis, a Model Sinecurist,
ii., 329

Campbell, Lord, Plunket's bon-mol up-
on, i., 117 ; his Irish Chancellorship,
119; as Chief-Justice, ii., 340

Campbell, Thomas, the Poet, i., 12

Canning, George, his Career, i., 322

Canterbury, Archbishop of, ii., 344

INDEX.

369

Canterbury, Viscount (see Manners Sul- Chiefs, on the Bench, i., 176

ton)

Carding in Tipperary, i., 71

Carleton, Lord Chief-Justice, ii., 19

Carnarvon, Earl of, ii., 346

Caroline, Queen, her Counsel, i., 264
Bribed Witnesses at her Trial, ii., 35

Carroll, Father, of Wexford, Trial of
i., 304

Castle, the, i., 160

Castlereagh, Lord (Marquis of London
deny), Notice of, i., 131 ; how h
carried the Union, 248

Catherine, Queen, Trial of, i., 91

Catholic Aristocracy, their Support of
the Union, ii., 98

Association founded, i., 379

BAR, ii., 76 ; Sir Theobald Butler

and the Treaty of Limerick, 79 ; Cath
olics excluded from the Bar, 90 ; ad-
mitted, 91; Bellow, 93; Union ob-
tained on False Pretences, 98 ; Scene
in Court, 105

Board, the, i., 133

Deputation, ii., 192 ; Visit to Dr.

Milncr, 195 ; arrive in London, 202 ;
attend Debate in House of Commons,
207; Dinner at Brougham's, 216;
Public Meeting in London, 220 ; Din
ner at Norfolk House, 224

• Emancipation, opposed by George

III., and supported by his Ministers,
i., 367 ; carried by Wellington, ii., 266

LEADERS AND ASSOCIATIONS, i.

359; Penal Laws, 36 1 ; Keogh's Lead-
ership, 363; Denis Scully, 370; 0'
Connell,372; Royal Visit, 377; Cath
olic Association founded, 379 ; sup-
ported by the Catholic Priesthood
and Aristocracy, 381

Irish, Existence of acknowledged,

i., 362
— — Magistrates, ii., 178

Meetings, i., 281, and ii., 220

Politics in 1825,' ii., 192

Relief Bill, ii., 302

Cazales, Opinion of Burke, i., 238
Chadwick, Mr., Murder of, ii., 42
Chambers, Sir William, i., 330
Chancery, Court of, ii., 96; Delays in,

97 ; Reform of, 97

Chantrey, Sir Francis, Sculptor, i., 332 ;
Charlemont, Earl of, brings Plunket

into Irish Parliament, i., 99
Chesterfield,Earl ofjrish Viceroy, ii.,88
£heyne, Dr. John, Notice of, i., 198

16*

Cliin% Embassies to, i., 183
Circuit Abuses, Reform of, i.. 302
Circuit, the, North Wales, i., 26 ; Mun

ster, 35 ; Leinster, 287
Circuit, Mock-TriaJs on, i., 27
Circuits, the Law, i., 19
Clanricarde, Marquis of, ii., 352
Clare Election, ii., 265 ; Vesey Fitz
gerald opposed, 266 ; O'Connell take?
the Field, 270; Nomination, 287;
Candidates' Speeches, 289 ; Inci
dents in the Election, 295 ' O'Con-
nell elected, 302
Clare, Lord-Chancellor, Notice of, i.,

67 ; his Flippancy, 228
Clerk, Lord Eldin, Anecdote of, i., 183
Clergy, Catholic and Protestant, i., 308
Clive,' Lord, Royal Gift to, i., 153
Clogher, deposed Bishop of, i., 290
Cloncurry, Lord, Notice of, i., 147 ;

suspected of Disaffection, ii., 15
Clonmel, Lord, Notice of, i., 151
CLONMEL ASSIZES, ii., 41 : Murder of
Mr. Chidwick, 42 ; Murder of Dan-
iel Mara, 47 ; Earl of Kingston, 48 ;
an Approver, 54 ; the Keoghs, 61 ;
Crime in Tipperary, 66 ; Arthur
Young on Whiteboyism, 67 ; the Pe-
nal Code, 69; Policy of Concilia-
tion, 74

obbett, John Morgan, ii., 319
obbctt, WiJHam, sued and rast by
Plunket, i., 102 ; his History of the
Protestant Reformation, ii., 198; his
Career, 3!9; at Penend^n Heath,
320; Resemblance to Sir Walter
Scott, 321

ockle, Mr. Serjeant, his Half-Fee,
ii,, 114
Coif, Dignity of the, i., 174

oke, T. W., of Norfolk (Earl of Lei-
cester), ii., 221

Dolclough, Caesar, Epigram on, ii.,214
1 Collegians, The," Origin of, i., 42
holies, Surgeon, Notice of, i., 198
Colonels, the Three, O'CoimeH's Epi-
gram on, i., 257
3ombermere, Lord, consisted by Lord

Norbury, ii., 37
'Comical Miscreant," Cobbett so called

by O'Conjiell, i., 284
Commons, Irish House of, i., 130
Commons, Nobility in the, ii., 251
Compensation to Irish Boroughmop
gers, i., 249

370

INDKX.

Confederation, she Irish, i., 11
CONFESSIONS OF A. JUNIOR BARRISTER,
ii., 155 : Training for the Bar, 150;
Speech at Aggregate Meeting, 158;
a Lawyer in Love, 162 ; a Double
Confidant, 165 ; the Gain of Godli-
ness, 166 ; hope deferred, 167 ; dan-
cing into Practice, 170
Connaught, serving Writs in, i., 70
Conyrigham, Marchioness of, a Royal

Favorite, i., 378
Cooper, C. P., of Chancery Bar, edits

Brougham's Judgments, ii., 345
Copley, Sir John (see Lord Lyndhurst)
County Judges, Irish, ii., 100
" Cork Mercantile Chronicle," i., 12
Cork-screw. Sho.il an i the, i., 13
Cornwallis, Lord, ii . 98
Corporation of Dublin and Lord Mari-
ners, ii., 181

Coulin, Singing of the, i., 296
Counsel for Prisoners, ii., 51
Counselor, Title of, i., 29
Court, Inns of, i., 28
Coutts, Thomas, his Wealth, ii., 203
Crarnpton, Judge, Notice or, i., 314
Crampton, Sir Philip, n,v DfJ
Cranworth, Lord-Chancel Jor, an Anti-
Law-Reformer, ii,, 97
Cove of Cork, Name changed, i., 22
Co wley, GUI ran's happy Quotation from,

i., 303

Croker, John Wilson, i., 213
Croly, satirizes " The Ten'.h" in a Com-
edy, i., 355

Grotty, Dr., Pres. ..f Majnooth, i., 383
Cronau, Larry, Trih-l of, i., 33
Cumberland, L)u':,', of (King of Hano-
ver), Grand- Master of the Orange-
men, i., 290 ; heads the Brunswick-
era, ii., 315

Cut rah, John Philpot, Anecdotes of, i.,
63; VH Hod Powers 67 ; Defence of
the Sheareses, 99; his Opinion of
Charles Phillips, 124; Description
of Lord Downes, 177; with Monks
of the Screw, 207 ; with Lord Avon-
moie and a Dublin Jury, 275; Rec-
onciliation with Lord Avonmore, 303 ;
his Irish Grave, 354 ; bon-mot, on Lord
Norbury, ii., 7 ; his Career, 127 ; de-
scribed by /iyron and Phillips, 128;
Description of Peel, 211 ; his Con-
versation, 2 1C

f Tan, William Henry, writes his Fa-
Uer'* Life, ii., 128

f Cisrtis, Archbishop, Notice of, ii., 386 ,
Correspondence with the Duke of
Wellington, 388

Cutting and Maiming, Ellenborough'a
Act against, i. 34

Darnley, Eari of, ii., 317

Dawson, Alexander, at Louth Election,
ii., 235

Dawson, George Robert, ii., 32

Day, Judge, at Killarney, i., 301

Denman, Lord Chief-Justice, his
pendence, ii., 112; his Career, 253

Derangement of the Mind, Dr. Cheyne
on, i., 199

Derry, Bishop of (Earl of Bristol), i.,
234

D'Esterre, Duel with O'Connell, i., 76

D'Este, Sir Augustus, ii., 219

D'E.ste, Mademoiselle, now Lady Tru-
ro, ii., 219

" Devil," the Judge's, i., 228

Devonshire, Duke of, ii., 217

Devonshire, Georgiana, Duchess of,
ii., 327

Dickens, Chnrles, Original of his Ed-
itor Pott, ii., 258

Dirmer-Bell. the soubriquet of Edmund
Burke, i., 239

Disraeli, Benjamin, his Character of
J. W. Croker, i., 214

Dock, Irish Criminal, i., 31

Doctors of Civil Law, Practice of, i..
174

DoHKRTY,Chief-Justice,thelate,i.,311;
Promotion, 313 ; Parliamentary Con-
tost with O'Connell, 325 ; made Chief
Justice, 325; Official Qualifications,
326 ; prosecutes the Murderers of
Daniel Mara, ii., 47 ; his Promotion
resisted by Lord Manners, 181

Doneraile Conspiracy, i., 325

Donoughmore, Earls of, i., 371

Donnybrook Fair, Decline and Fall of,
i., 23

Downes, Lord, i., 176 ; described by
Cm-ran, 177 ; Vice-Chancellor of
Trinity College, 290

Downing Street, London — locale of
Government Offices, i., 254

Doyle, Doctor, Bishop of Kildare and
Leighlin, i., 318 ; joins Catholic As-
sociation, 381 ; Memoir of, 382

Doyle, Sir John, Anecdotes of, i., 123

Drumgoole, Doctor, a Catholic Leader,
i., 374

Dublin Castle, i., 160

Sfl

Dublin Election, in 1803, i., 270; in

1831, ii., 357

" Dublin Evening Mail," ii., 176
" Dublin Evening- Post," i. 354 ; pros-
ecuted by Government, 372
Dublin, Four Courts in i., 58
Dublin, Stnte of Parties in, ii., 354
DUBLIN TABINET BALL, i., 328; Ori-
gin of, 329 : Beauty at, 331 ; Lord
and Ln.'y VVelluslcy at, 335 ; Sir Htir-
coiirt Lei-:? at, 340 ; Duke and Duch-
ess of Leia?t«>r at, 350 ; the Younger
Giattan at, 352; Officers of "The
Tenth" at, 355; Miss O'Connell at,
357
Dulvin Theatre, " Bottle Riot," i., 266,

2/9
" Dublin University Magazine" on Plun-

ket and Emmett, i., 103
"Dublin Warder," i., 340
"Dublin Weekly Register," ii., 118
Dudley, Sir Henry Bate, i., 294
Duelling in Dublin, i., 69 ; at the Bar,
153 ; Lord Norbury's, ii., 6 ; Extinc-
tion of, 268
Duffy, Mr., Editor of " The Nation,"

ii., 118

Duigenan, Dr., Notice of, i., 78
Durnferline, Lord (see Abercrombie).
Dunleary, Name changed to Kingston,

i., 80

Durham, Earl of, ii., 218
Dying Declarations of Criminals, i., 55
Edgeworth, Miss, the Irish Novelist,

i., 91

" Edinburgh Review," Macaulay a Con-
tributor to, i., 213 ; how founded,
ii.t 346

Education in Ireland, i.,221 ; too pros-
elyting, 223

Eldin, Lord, Anecdote of, i., 188
Eldon, Lord, his Career, i., 104 ; An-
ecdote of, 188 ; his Chancery De-
lays, ii., 97

Elections, Duration of, ii., 293
Elective Franchise granted to the Cath-
olics, i., 368

Ellenborough, Lord, his Act, i., 34;

Partisanship on Hone's Trial, ii., 112

Ellis, Master in Chancery, M. P. for

Dublin, i., 261 ; how elected, 352
Eloquence, Character of O'ConnelPs,

i., 221

Elrington, Bishop, i., 287 ; suppresses
the Historical Society, and denoun-
ces Books of Necromancy, 290

Embassies to China, Cost of, i., 183

Emmett, Robert, Trial and Defence of,
i., 100; Plunket's Speech against,
101 ; Reproof to Lord Norbury, ii., 15

Emmett, Temple, his brief Career, i.,
100

Emmett, Thomas Addis, Notice of, i.,
100

England and Ireland compared, ii., 200

England, Bishop, ii., 213

English Judicature, i., 174

English Law ia Ireland, i., 58

Equity Judges, ii., 97

Errol, Earl of, ii., 347

Erskine, Lord-Chancellor, i., 139

Esmonde, Sir Thomas, ii., 196

Ex-Chancellors, hear Appeals as Law-
Lords, i., 175

Executions in Ireland, i., 53

Falstaff, a Legal (Bumbo Green), ii.,
109

Farnham, Lord, ii., 351

Fauntleroy, Henry, Doubts of his Exe-
cution, i., 57

Fees, Lawyers', i., 19 ; Anecdotes of,
ii., 114

Fermoy, Magistrates at, ii., 178

" Fighting Fitzgerald," ii., 6

Fingal, Had of, i., 373; Notice of, ii.,
102 ; Chairman of Aggregate Meet
ing, 158

Fitzgerald, the Approver, ii., 54

Fitzgerald, Lord Edward, i., 344 ; Me-
moir of, 345

Fitzgerald, Sir Augustus, ii., 289

Fitzgerald, Prime Sergeant, his Nation-
ality and Death, ii., 290

Fitzgerald, W. Vesey (Lord Fitzgerald
and Vesci), opposed at Clare Elec-
tion, ii., 266 ; Notice of, 271 ; Hust-
ings Speech at Clare, 290 ; Defea!,,
302

Fitzgibbon (Earl of Clare), Notice of,
i., 67

Fitzgibbon, Mr., and the Small Fee.
ii., 114

Fitzhtrbert, Mrs., and George IV., ii.,
35

Fit'/.patrick, General, on Burke, i.,239

Fitzwilliam, Earl, Notice of, i., 240 ; at
Norfolk House, ii., 226

Fletcher, Mr. Justice, ii., 29 ; his angry
Vibrations, 30

Flood, Sir Frederick, ii., 7

Flood, Henry, in the British Parl;n
ment, i., 113

Follet, Sir William, on Lawyers' Prac-
tice, i., 188

Foote, Maria, Marriage with the Earl
of Harrington, i., 350

Foreign Titles held by British Subjects,
i., 331

Forrescue, Mr., Defeat of, at Louth,
248

FOSTER, JOHN LESLIE, at Louth Elec-
tion, ii., 236 ; the Nomination, 241 ;
in Parliament, 250 ; Incidents of his
Life, 254 ; his Appointments, 260 ;
On Education Inquiiy, 260 ; Counsel
to Customs and Excise, a Job, 264

Four Courts, Dublin, i., 18, and 58

Fox, Charles James, De.tth of, i., 323 ;
his Career, ii., 228

Francis, Sir Philip, on Burke's Pen-
sion, i., 239

Freeman, Henry Dcane, Assistant Bar-
rister, ii., 100

Freemasons' Hall, Catholic Meeting in,
ii., 220

Free Trade, Peel's System of, ii., 215

French Bar, the, i., 194

French, Counsellor, n., 323

French, Lord, Description of, i., 373

Fuller, Jack, a Parliamentary Joker,
ii., 7

Gallantry, Criminal, i., 40

George III., his Present to Lord Clive,
i., 153 ; opposes Catho'.ic Emancipa-
tion, i., 367

George IV., Visit to Ireland, i., 18 ;
retains Anti-Catholic Ministers, 371 ;
Reception in Ireland, 377 ; Byron's
Satire upon, 379

Geraldines, Heir of the, i.. 343

German Prince, Tour of a, ii., 291

Gifford, John, denounced by Grattan,
i., 270

Gladstone, William Ewart, at Oxford,
ii., 193

Glascot, Toby, an Election Candidate,
ii., 263

" Glorious, pious, and immortal Mem-
ory," ii., 132

Godwin, William, Notice of, ii., 122

Goldsmith, Oliver, his Description of
Burke, i., 239

GOOLD, MR. SERGEANT, Sketch of, an
Admirable Crichton, i., 232 ; his Ex-
travagfu".-e, 233 ; goes to the Bar, 235;
his Advancement, 242 ; Nisi-Prius
Practice, 242 ; his inordinate Vanity,
243; Influence with Juries, 244;

charged with Prevarication befbru
Limerick Election Committee. 250 J
defended by Grattan, 251

Gordon, Duchess of, i., 212

Gore, Mr., the Cromwellian, ii, 291

Goulburn, Henry, Notice of, i., 95 ; de-
fends Saurin's Letter, ii., 36

Gorman, William, and " The Burning
of the Sheas," ii., 138

Gormanstown, Lord, joins the Catholic
Association, i., 380 ; Notice of ii.,
102

Grace, Patrick, Trial of, ii., 44

Grady, Harry Doane, i., 26 ; his Jury-
Eye, 141 ; his Cross-Examination,
ii., 22

Grattan, Henry, Notice of, i., 114;
Moore's Lines on, 115; his Opinion
of Buike, 238 ; of Goold's Integrity,
251 ; his later Unpopularity, 270 ;
last Public Appearance, 282 ; Burial-
place, 354 ; his Conversation, ii., 216

Grattan, Henry junior, i., 352 ; at Tab-
inet Ball, 355

Green, Bumbo, ii., 108

Gregory, Dr. Tighe, ii., 183

Gregory, Under Secretary, ii., 36 ; out
of Office, 356

Grenville, Lord, and Catholic Emanci-
pation, i., 367

Grey, Earl, Memoir of, ii., 227; his
Aristocratic Pride, 229

Grey, List, the, ii., 227

Griffin, Gerald, Irish Novelist, Origin
of his " Collegians," i., 42 ; his Omis-
sions, ii., 365

Grimaldi, Joseph, the Pantomimist, ii.,
32

Guillamore, Viscount (see O'Grady).

Gurney, Sir John, " the Hanging.
Judge," ii., 340

Hamilton, Gerard, Opinion of Burke
i., 238

Hanlon, Ellen, Murder of, i., 42

" Hannibals, the Father of the," i., 102

Hardwicke, Lord-Chancellor, i., 104;
Notice of, 317

Hurdwiiike, Earl of, his Viceroyalty,
i., 370

Harlowe, G. H., the Painter, Notice
of, i., 91

Harrington, Dowager-Countess of ( Ma-
ria Foote, the Actress), i., 350

Harrington, Earls of, i., 350

Hart, Sir Anthony, Chancellor of Ire-
land, ii., 174; on the Bench, 359

tNtlKX.

Harty Sir r?. ! ort, Lord-Mayor cf Dub-
lin", ii., 357

Hatherton, Lady, Beauty of, i., 332
Harvfc', Bagenal, Execution of, i., 192
Henchy, Petor Fitzgibbon, ii., 121
Hertford, Lady, her " Fatal Witchery"

of George IV., i., 371
Horvoy, Lord, Pope's Satire on, i., 234
Hessians, the, in Ireland, i., 155
Hill, Sir George, and Wolfe Tone, ii.,

31

Hincks, Francis, his Education, ii., 48

.Historical Society, Dublin, i., 123 ;

Bushe's Speech in, 124 ; School of

Oratory, 253 ; suppressed by Provost

Elrington, 290

Hogan, Matthew, Mr. Shell's Speech

on, ii., 150
Hohenloe, Prince, reputed Miracles by,

i., 310
Holmes, Robert, Father of the Irish

Bar, i., 313

HoJycross, Abbey of, ii., 44
Honors, English, held by Irish Peers,

i., 159

Hope, Mr., and Lord Norbury, i., 170
Hope, Thomas, Author of " Anasta-

tius," i., 211

Horton, Sir Robert, Wilmot, ii., 104
Huguenots in Ireland, i., 167
Hume, Joseph, Notice of, ii., 217
Hunt, Henry, Notice of, ii., 322
Husscy, Peter Bodkin, a Catholic Lead-
er, i., 376
Hutchinson, Provost, and his Family,

i., 371

Informers, Cumin on, i., 24
Inglis, Sir Robert Harry, his Intoler-
ance, ii., 193

Innoshowen, why so called, i., 70
Inns of Court, i., 28
Ireland, Education in, i., 221

South of, i., 20

• Travelling in, i., 21

" Young," i., 369

Irish Bar, Independence of, i., 68 ; Fa-
ther of the, 313
" Irish Blackguard," Origin of, i., 308
Irish Circuit, an, i., 19

Confederation formed, i., 11

Deputies, Napoleon on, ii., 206

Judges, Character of, ii., 112

Judicature, i., 174

Peers, in the British Parliament

. i., 159
— Roads, ii., 181

Irish Sabbath, i., 290

Volunteers, i., 363

J. K. L., Signature of Dr. Doyle, i, 318

Jackson, Devonshire, an Irish J idge,
ii., 76

Jackson, Rev. William, his Death, ana
Refusal to escape, ii., 235

Tail-Deliver}', i., 33

Jeffrey, Lord, Notice of, ii., 346

Jesuits and Lord Manners, ii., 187

Toct'lvn, Percy, Deposed Bishop of
Clobber, i., 290

Jocelyn, Viscount, ii., 237

Fohnsoi), Dr., Opinion of Burke, i., 238

Johnston (" Bitter Bob") and Pluuket,
i., 113

Tohnson, Judge Robert, convicted of
Libel, i., 303

Johnson, Mr. Justice William, at Wex-
ford Assizes, i., 299 ; Antipachy to
Lord Norhury, ii., 30

Jones, John Gale, Notice of, ii., 156

Joy, CHIKF-BAUON, i., 170: his Tory
Politics, 173 ; Promotion as Solicitor-
General, 179; Legal Ability, 180;
Scientific Pursuits, 181 ; as Chief-
Baron, 185
— Memoir of, i., 170

Valedictory to Lord Manners, ii.,

157

Judges, Equity, Number of, ii., !*/

Judges' Salaries, Pensions, and Life-
Appointments, i., 175, and it., 111
Partisanship in Ireland, 112

Judge's " Devil," i., 228

Judicature in Great Britain and Ire-
land, i., 174; System of, ii., Ill

Jury, Curran and a Dublin, i., 274

" Juverna," Letters of, by Judge R.
Johnson ; prosecuted as libellous, 303

Keller, Jerry, i., 207 ; Bon-Ktols, 208

Kenmare, Lord, i., L»80 ; Notice of,
ii., 102

Kenny, Rev. Mr., Provincial of the Je«
uits, ii., 262

Kent, Chancellor, and Thomas Ai -.'&
Emmett, i , 100

Kent County Meeting, ii., 315

Kentish Men, ii., 316

" Kent, Men of," ii., 316

Keogh, John, a Catholic Leaden, i.,
363 ; his Career, 366 ; opposed by
O'Connell, 368

Keoghs, Trial of the, ii., 61

Kildare Street Association, i., 220?
Meetings, 223

Killarnry, Lakes of, i., 301

Killeen, Lord, a Catholic Leader, i.,
380 ; Notice of, ii., 102

Xilmurry, tho Seat of diaries Kd/.dal
Bushr, i., 300

Kilwarden, Lord, killed by Mistake for
Lord Carleton, ii., 19

King, Sir Abraham Bradley, ii., 183

King, Dr. William, Archbishop of Dub-
lin, ii., 77

King's Counsel, Privileges of, i., 320;
Partisanship in appointing, i., 321

Kingsborough, Viscount, his *' Antiqui-
ties of Mexico," ii., 49

Kingston, Earl of, ii., 48

Kirwan, Mr., Prosecution of, i, 377

Knatchbull, Sir Edward, ii., 335

Ko-tou, Chinese Ceremony of, i., 183

Lacy, Patrick, Trial of, ii", 47

Ladies in Court, i., 40

Latouche, J. D., Banker in Dublin,!. ,94

Law-Lords in Parliament, i., 175

Law Reforms, by Peel, i., 327; by
Brougham, ii., 97

Lawless, " Honest Jack," ii., 276

Laws, Penal, extended, i., 361 ; re-
laxed, 362

Lawyer, Life of an Eminent, i., 196 ;
a Saintly, 217; a Perfect, 311; in
Love, ii., 162

Lawyers, the Yelverton, i., 205

LEADERS, CATHOLIC, Sketch of, i., 359

Lees, Sir Harcourt, Memoir of, i., 340 ;
his Person and Attire, 341 ; at the
Tabinet Ball, 342

LKF;IOY, CHIEF-JUSTICE, i., 216: a
Saintly Lawyer, 217; Kil dare-Street
Meeti:;i;3, 223 ; in Court of Chanee-
iv, 226 ; Merit as an Advocate, 227 ;
his Promotion, 229

Legal Cavalcade, i , 27

Leicester. Earl of (Thomas W. Coke),
ii., 211

LeiiKster Circuit, i., 287 ; Bushe's At-
tachment to, 301

T.«Mim»r, Duchess of, i., 350
Luinster, Duke of, Notice of, i., 343 ;
Want of Nationality, 347 ; his Pur-
suits, 349

Leinster, Mount, in Wexford, i,, 295
Leopold, Prince, a Serene Highness,

ii., 27

Lethbridge, Sir Thomas, ii., 262
" L'Etoile," a Parisian Journal, Mr

Sheil's Contributions to, ii., 83
Liberators, Order of, i:.., 286

License of the Car, ; , ^77

Life- Appointment ot judges, i., 175

Liffey, a Dip in the, i., 63

Limerick Assizes, i., 51 ; Special Com
mission, 229

Limerick, Treaty of, ii., 80 ; British
Violation of, 81

Liston, John, the Comedian, i., 3-13

Liverpool, Earl of, an Incompetent
Prime Minister, i., 322 ; oppose
Emancipation, ii., 206

Locke, John, his Treatise on Govern-
ment excluded from Dublin Univer-
sity Course, i., 254

Londonderiy,Marquisof(Castlereagh),
i., 131

ong Orchard, the Burial-place of Mr.
Sheil, i., 11

ord-Chancellor's Salary and Pension,
i., 175

ords, House of, highest Court of Ju-
dicature, i., 175

Louth Election in 1826, ii., 236

Lundifoot, the Dublin Tobacconist, i.,
308

Lyndhurst, Lord-Chancellor, ii., 340

Macartney, Lord, his Embassy to China,
i., 183

Vl'Cleary, David, ii., 183

Vl'Cleland, Judge, Forbearance on Em-
mett's Trial, i., 103

M'Cormick, Toby, and Lord Norbury,
ii., 25

MacDonnell, ^Eneas, conducts a Cath
olic Journal, i., 370 ; Account of,
ii., 202

MacDonald, Sir A., Use of Epithets in
Parliament, ii., 292

' MacDougall of the Roar," i., 200

M'Dowall's Statue of Sir M. O'Logh-
lin,ii., 116

M'Kenny, Sir Thomas, presides at tho
Dublin Catholic Meeting, i., 281

Mackenzie, Dr. Shelton, Memoir of
Sheil by, i., 5 ; Notes by. passim.

Mackintosh, Sir James, on Plunket,
i., Ill

M'Mahon, Mr., a Pauper Barrister,
i., 91

MacMahon, Sir William, Master of the
Rolls, ii., 105 ; Dispute with Sir An-
thony Hart, ii., 358

M'Namara, Major, ii., 267 ; his Char-
acter, 268

MacNaliy, Leonard, and his Book, ii.
295 '

1NDICX.

Magee, John, Editor' of the "Dublin
Evening Post," i., 372

Magee, Dr. "William, Archbishop of
Dublin, i., 288; officiates at Lord
Wellesley's Marriage, 335; compared
with Archbishop King, ii., 77

Magrath, Counsellor, great Length of,
i., 155 ; Moore's Question to, 156

Muguire, Rev. Thomas, ii., 277 ; Me-
moir of, 278; at Clare Election,
279

Mahon, O'Gorman, ii., 269 ; Notice of,
274; wears the Order of Liberators'
Sash and Medal, 285 ; proposes O'-
Connell at Clare, 289

Mohony, Darby, and Lord Norbury,
ii., 17

MANNERS, LORD, his Family Connec-
tions, i., 191 ; Jiu.K"ial Inefficiency,
315; Partisanship, 320 ; Z'etires from
Office, ii. 5

Sketch of, ii., 172

Takes Leave of Irish Bar, 172

Joy's Valedictory to, 175

Sheil's Opinion o,', 177

MANNERS TESTIMONIAL, ii., 185

Mtira Family, the Conspiracy against,
ii., 46

Mara, Daniel, Trial of his Murderers,
ii., 47

Mnra, Philip, Witness on a Murder-
Trial ii., 44

Marriage out of the Dock, i., 41

Marriages, Catholic, ii., 95

Martin, of Conneiimra, i., 166 ; his Suc-
cessors, 166

Martin, Mrs. Bell, her Death in New
York, i., 166

Martin. Richard, of the English and
Irish Bar, ii., 100

Matuiin, his Opitliui! of Mrs. Siddons,
ii., 218

Muym •,. Judge, and Jerry Keller, i., 208;
hi«s imposing Gravity, ii., 27

Mnynooth, College of, i., 221

Mengher, Thomas Francis, i., 369

Mellon, Harriet, her Husbands and
Wealth, ii., 203

" Mem!) M for all* Ireland," i., 257

Messiah i»f Royalty, Byron's, i., 379

Metrdi>»al.:in Magazine, i., 14; Sketch-
es furs-, 'i., 340 and 354

MHbanke, Sir John Peneston, ii., 348

Milbouriie-Port, Borough of, represent-
ed by Mr. North and Mr. Sheil, i.,
255

Mills, Harry, at Lout'i Election, ii., *2-.t&

Milner, Bishop, Visit to, ii., 195

Mind, Dr. Cheyne on Derangement of
the, i., 199

Mitchel, John, Irish Patriot, i., 369:
Editor of " The United Irishman,'*
ii., 118

Monks of the Screw, their Charter-
Song, i., 206

Monomania, Father Carroll's, i., 305 ;
fatal Effects of, 307

Monster Meetings, ii., 280

Moore, George Ogle, a Candidate at
Dublin, ii., 357

Moore, Judge, ii., 31 ; at Clonmei As-
sixes, 48 ; his Character, 123

Moore, Thomas, on Captain Rock, i.,
39; on Sheridan, 138; on Rich arc
Martin, 166 ; his Birth, 208 ; on Spen-
ce- Perceval, 289 ; where born, 296 ;
on Duke of York, ii., 207 ; on Lord.
Anglesey, 250 ; on Wellington, 308

Morgan, Lady, i., 351

"Morning Chronicle,*' London News-
paper, i., 39

Mornington, Countess of, Mother of
four Peers, i., 336

Mornington, Earl of, i., 95

Mountain-Dew, i., 70

Mountain-Peasantry in Court, i., 30

Murder on the Shannon, i., 42

Mun sler Circuit, i., 35

Miirphv, Father, of Corofin, ii., 281 ; his
Speech in Irish, 282 ; his Vigilance,
302

Murray, Dr., Archbishop of Dublin,
i., 387

Murray, Lady Augusta, ii., 219

Murfit.au, Prince Puckler, on O'Con-
ueli, ii., 291

Napoleon on Chinese Embassy, i., 183 ;
retains Napper Tandy, ii., 9 ; Opin-
ion of Irish Deputies, 206

" Nation, The," Dublin Repeal Jour-
nal, ii., 118

National Debt, how increased, i., 240

National Education in Ireland, i., 221

"New Monthly Magazine," i., 12 .,

Nisi-Prius Practice, i., 29

Nobility in House of Commons, ii., 2*>1

NORBURY, LORD, Snetch of, ii., 5: —
called to the Bar, 7 ; righto his \\tuf
on, 9 ; as Solicitor-General, 13 ; CVu-
elty in the Sheareses Case, 1 4 ; Harsh-
ness to Robert Emmett, 15 ; Judicial
Brutality, 17 ; Bufl'o Scenes iu uia

376

INDEX.

Court, 21 ; his Jests, 26 ; violent As-
cendency Politics ; the Saurin Letter,
33; Negotiations for Resignation,
36; Consulting' a Friend in India,
3'/ ; his Library, 39
Norcott, the Barrister, turns Moham-
medan, i., 214; his Fate, 215
Norfolk, Duke of, ii., 220
Norfolk House, Dinner at, ii., 224
NORTH, JOHN H., Admiralty Judge,
Sketch of, i., 252 : his Career, 252 ;
Bar Progress, 256 ; comparative Fail-
ure as a Senator, 261 ; his Exterior,
262 ; Political Neutrality, 263 ; Dub-
lin Theatre " Bottle Riot," 266 ; at
Louth Election, ii., 241
Norton, Sir Fletcher, Abuse of, ii., 292
Nugent, Lord, satirized by Canning, ii.,

208 ; Notice of, 352
O'Brien, Sir Edwaid, at Clare Elec-
tion, ii., 280
O'Brien, William Smith, Memoir of,

ii., 28? ; his Penal Exile, 288
O'CONNELL, DANIEL, his Success with
Juries, i., 35 ; Sketch of, i., 73 ; his
Versatility, 74 ; Memoir of, 75 ; his
Property, 77 ; Merits as a Lawyer,
78; a Tribune of the People, 81;
Demeanor in Court, 82 ; Defence
of Criminals, 86 ; Duel with D'Es-
terre, 89 ; after Clare Election, 90 ;
On Circuit, and as a Public Speaker,
93 ; in Parliament, 94 — and before
the Privy Council, 95

Patent of Precedency to, i., 174

At Kildare-Street Meeting, 223

Versatility as a Speaker, 257 ;

Entrance into Wexford, 297 ; Par-
liamentary Contest, Mr. Doherty,
325 ; Entrance into Public Life, 368 ;
his Struggles, " within the Law,"
for Emancipation and Repeal, 369 ;
on the King's Visit, drinks the Or-
ange Charter Toast, 378 ; founds the
Catholic Association, 379 ; his Man-
ner of Speaking in Public, 381 ; his
Costume at the Assizes, ii., 107

At Aggregate Meeting, ii., 159

En Route to London, ii., 194

Visits Dr. Milner, ii., 196 ; visit?.

die House of Commons, ii., 207

Challenged by Peel, ii., 213

— Bushe'a Epigram on, ii., 213

Character of his Eloquent, ii.,

221; Speech in Freemasons' Hall,
221; baffles the Reporters by a Speech

in Irish, 280 ; a Man of the Pt-opld
291; Elected for Clare, 302; anrl
Re-Election, 303

O'Connell, Maurice, Death of, i., 77
O'Connell, Miss, at the Tabinet Ball,

i., 357

O'Gorman, Nicholas Purcel, Keller's
Retort to, i., 209 : his Habiliments,
ii., 120: Visit to London, 207 ; aj-
pointed Cursitor, 355
O'Grady, Chief-Baron (Lord Guilla-
more), i., 13") ; Anecdotes of, ii.. 1 13
O'Hanlon, Mr., Speech by, ii., 223
O'Leary, Joseph, Jmh Lyrist, i., 13
O'Loghlin, Sir Oolernan, Irish Barris-
ter, ii., 116

O'LOGHLIN, SIR MICHAEL (Master of
the Rolls), Sketch of: Person, De-
portment, and Descent, ii., 106 ; Cir-
cuit Costume, 107 ; his Mastery of
"Practice,". Ill; Memoir of, 116;
his Promotions, 116 ; his Danish An-
cestor, 117; Statue of, in the Four
Courts, ii., 116
O'Meagher, J. B., Paris Correspondent

of " The Times," i., 13
Orange Toast, ii., 132
Oratory, Specimen of Forensic, ii., 15?
O'Regan, Counsellor, his Life of J. P.

Curran, ii., 128
Oriel, Lord, Notice of, ii., 248
Ormsby, Sir Charles, and Mr. Sergeant

Goold, i., 241
Oxford University, Representation, ii.,

193

Palmer, Lady, Interview with, ii., 88
Parliamentary Billingsgate, ii., 292
Parliamentary Reform, when carried,

ii., 227

Patent of Precedency, i., 174
Peel, Sir Robert: his Business Habits
and Law Reforms, i., 327 ; defends
the Saurin Letter, ii., 34 ; defends
Lord Norbury, 37 ; his Early Dis-
tinctions, 193 ; described by Cur-
ran, 241 ; Attack on Hamilton Row-
an, 211 ; his Oratory and Appli-
ance, 212 ; his Challenge to O'Coa.
nell, 213 ; Memoir of, 215
Peer, Cost of making a, ii., 249
Peerage of Ireland, degraded by the

Union, i., 159

Penal Laws, Extension of, i., 361 ; Op->
eration of, ii., 69 ; first Link of, 8'} ;
denounced by Sir T. Butler, 33
Enactments ef, 87

HEATH MEETING, ii., 315:

The Gathering, 316 ; the Peers and
the People, 318; William Cobbett,
319; Henry Hunt, 322; Lord Win-
chilsea and the Brunswickers, 325 ;
Shell's Unspoken Speech, 334

Pennefather, Edward, Chief-Justice, i.,
188

Pennefather, Richard, Baron of Ex-
chequer, i., 188

Perceval, Spencer, Notice of, ii., 289

Perjury, instant Punishment of, i., 33

Perrin, Judge, Notice of, i., 313 ; Char-
acter as a Lawyer, ii., 362 ; Private
History, 364 ; in Parliament, 365

Peterloo Massacre, denounced by Lord
Fitzwilliam, i., 240

Phillips, Charles, Irish Orator, Memoir
of, i., 124

Phcenix Park, Dublin, ii., 166

Physiology of Race in Ireland, i., 166

Pic-nic in the Woods of Wexford, i.,
295

Pitt, William, and Catholic Emancipa-
tion, i., 367

Plowden, Francis, the Irish Historian,
ii., 187

PLUNKET, LORD-CHANCELLOR, Sketch
of, i., 98 ; defends the Sheareses, i.,
99 ; opposes the Union, 99 ; accused
of unnecessary Harshness to Robert
Emmett, 101 ; Defence by Phillips,
102 ; great Chancery Practice, 103 ;
Rationale of his Pleading, 105; not
a Case -Lawyer, 106; his Rhetoric,
107; Description by Phillips, 109;
his Style, 110; Brougham's Opinion
of, 113; Success in Parliament, 113;
Advocacy of Catholic Emancipation,
114; Anti-Union Orations, 116; his
bon-mots, 117 ; Memoir of, 119

Plunket, Margaret, and the Duke of
Rutland, i., 190

Pollock, Sir Frederick, ii., 340

Pomposo, Counsellor, i., 203

Pjnsonby, George, Lord-Chancellor of
Ireland, i., 129 ; Lord Norbury's At-
tacks on, ii., 12 ; on Admission of
Catholic Barristers, 91

Pope, Alexander, Satire on Lord Her-
vey, i., 234

Potheen, why so called, i., 70

Pre-Audience at the Bar, ii., 98

Precedency, Patent of, i., 174

Prendergast, Mr., Registrar in Chan-
cery, i., 189 L

Price, Dr., Notice of i., 236

Priests, Exertions of idle, at Clare Bleo
tion, ii., 284

Priestley, Dr., Notice of, i., 237

"Prince's Mixture," i., 308

Prisoners, Counsel for, ii., 51

Prisoners11 Gratitude, Anecdo'.es of i.
37

Process-Servers, how treated, i., 71

Protestant Ascendency, Cause of Orime
ii., 71 ; what it means, 76

Protestant Reformation, Cobbett's His-
tory of, ii.. 198

Protestant Reformation Society, ii., 199

Puisne Judges, i., 176

Qualification of Members, ii., 274

" Quarterly Review,^' by whom estab-
lished, i., 213

Queen's Counsel (see King's Counsel),
how appointed — Precedency — Num-
bers— Advantages — and Silk-Gowns,
i., 174

Quotations, Apt, i., 257

Races, Characteristics of, in Ireland,
i., 166

Radcliffe, Dr., fees Himself, i., 136

Radnor, Earl of, ii., 318

Raglan, Lord, Cost of his Patent of
Peerage ii., 249

Rathdown, Lord, in Character, ii., 191

Rebellion of 1798, i., 154

Redesdale, Lord-Chancellor, i., 227 ;
his Successor, 228

Reflections on the French Revolution,
by Burke, Royal Appreciation of,
i., 239

Reform, Parliamentary, when carried,
ii'., 227

Regency, Burke's Advocacy of, i.,239

Renegade, Fate of Norcott, the, i., 215

Rent, the Catholic, ii., 292

Repeal of the Union, O'Connell's Agi-
tation for, i., 369

Results of Clare Election, ii., 266

Retiring Pensions of the Judges, i.; 175

Revolution in Ireland, Attempt at, i.f 11

Riding-House in Dublin, Tortures in-
flicted in, ii., 22

Roche, Sir Boy le, his Bulls, ii., 10

Rock, Captain Lines on by Moore,
i., 39

Rockingham, Marquis of brings Burke
inta Parliament, i., 231;

Roden, Earl of, ii., 237

Romilly, Sir Sanmel, Notice of", i., 103

Rosse, Earls of, ii., 3l»

379

Rotunda in Dublin, Public Meeting in,

:., 281 ; Tabinet Bail in, i.. 330
ROWAN, ARCHIBALD Hj.Mii.roN, at-
tacked by Peel, ii., 211 ; described,
230; hb Exile, and Pardon, 231;
his Manly Appearance, 23:2 ; Escape
from Prison, 233 ; Asylum in Amer-
ica, 235

Royal Visits to Ireland : by Queen Vic-
toria, i., 22 ; by George IV., i., 377
Russell, Lord John, and Relief of Dis-
senters' Civil Disabilities, ii., 2G5
Rutland, Duke of, Vicerov of Ireland,

i., 190

Saints, the Dublin, i., 322
Saints, Ireland the Island of, ii., 197
Saints, the, in Parliament, ii., 359
St. Leonards, Lord-Chancellor (Sug-

den), i., 204
St. Omcr, O'Connell educated at, i.,

223
St. Patrick's Hull, in Dublin Castle,

ii., 220

.Salamanca, Irish Disputants at, de-
scribed in " Gil Bias,:' i., 376
Salaries of t.be Judges, i., 175
Sarsfiold, "the Gallant" Defender of

Limerick, ii., 80
Saturday Night, the Lawyer's Holyday

i., 206

SAURIN, ATTORNEY-GENERAL, i., 150 :
Huguenot Descent, 150 ; Business
Habits, 153 ; opposes the Union, 157 :
made Attorney-General, 160; Influ-
ence with Lord-Chancellor Manners
160; opposes the Catholic Claims
161 ; refuses the Chief-Justiceship,
is taken at his Word, and loses Of-
fice, 163 ; Deportment and Aspect
164 ; Skill as an Advocate, 168 ; Dis
taste for Literature, 169

Injudicious Letter to Lord Nor

bury, ii., 33 — a Bar to his Promotion
35 ; Lord Manners' Friendship for
173 ; rebuffed by Sir A. Hart, 238
Scanlan, John, Trial of for Murder, i.
51 ; Conviction and Execution, 54
Popular Belief of his Escape, 57
Motivo and Malice prepense of hi:
1 Crime ii., 365

Scarlett, Sir James (Lord Abinger), No
• rice .of, ii., 36; at Brougham's Din-
ner, 219 ; at B.-ougham's Levee, 348
Scott, Sir We Her, describes Castlereagl
at tho Coronation, ii., 118; his owi
Resemblance to Cobbett, 321

Scottish Judicature, i , 174

Screw, Monks of the. i., 206

driven, Barclay, Description of,ii., 122

•Jergeants-at-Law, in England — their
Standing and Precedence, i., 173

Sergeants-at-Law, in Ireland, appoint-
ed by the Crown, and their Prece-
dence, i., 173

Shannon, Murder on the, i., 42 ; Mo-
tive of, ii., 365

3haw, Frederick, ii., 358; appointed
Recorder, 360

Shea, John Augustus, Irish poet, i., 13

Sheareses, John and Henry, Trial of,
i., 98; legal Murder of, 99

Sheas, Burning of the, ii., 1 08; His-
tory of, 139 ; Trial for, 142 ; Shell's
Speech on, 149

Sheehans, Editors of Dublin " Even-
ning Mail," ii., 176

Sheil, Richard Lalor, Memoir of, i., 5

Shelley, Mrs., Notice of, ii., 122

Sheridan, Dr., Prosecution of, i., 377

Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, Notice of,
i., 138 ; Byron's and Moore's Opinion
of, i., 138 ; his Address to the Prince,
i., 371

Shifnal, Description of, ii., 201

Siddons, Mrs., Anecdotes of, ii., 218

Sidmouth, Viscount, Letter from, in the
King's Name, i., 379 ; his Peerage,
ii., 352

Silk-Gowns, by whom worn, i., 174 ;
Partisan Disposal of, ii., 320

Singer, Dr. J. H., Bishop of Meath.
ii., 77

Slaney, Scenery on the River, i., 214

Smith, Egerton (usually called " Bot
Smith"), i,, 258

Smith, S. Caterscu Irish Artist, Por-
trait of Sheil by :? face — i., 1

Smith, T. B. C., Master of the Rolls,
ii., 114

Smith, Sir W. Cusack, Notice of. ii.
114

Smith, William, of Norwich, ii., 351

Smythe, Hon. Mr., a " Young Eng-
land" Leader, ii., 257

Sorbonne Doctors, Attack on Bishop
Doyle by, i., 383

South ey, Robert, his Opinion of Cob
belt's pure English, ii., 319

Speculative Society of Edinburgh, i.

„ 253

Stanhope, Colonel Leicester (Earl of
Harrington), i., 350

INDEX.

379

Stale, Lord Wellesley's Viceregal, i.,

337
STATE OF PARTIES IN DUBLIN: Mr.

Bell.

Silk Attire," ii., 354 ;

O'Loghlin and O'Gorman promoted,
355 ; Dublin Election : Moore and
Recouler Shaw versus Harty and
Perrin, 357 ; Lord-Chancellor Hart,
Mr. Saurin, and the Master of the
Rolls, 359 ; Victory of the Liberals,
36ft

Staunton, Sir George, in the Emoassy
to China, i., 183

Steele, Thomas, ii., 269 ; sent to Clare,
270 ; Memoir of, 272 ; seconds Mr.
O'Connell's Nomination, 289

Stephen's Green, Dublin, ii., 181

Sterne, Story of the Sword, i., 300

Stothard,Thos., and Chan trey's " Sleep-
ing Children," i., 332

Stourton, Lord, a Catholic Peer, ii., 223

Strangford, Lord, ii., 257

Stuart, Villiers, defeats Lord George
Beresford at Waterford, ii., 235

Stuff-Gown, worn bv Utter or Outer Bar-
risters, i., 174

Ton-ens, Judge, ii., 31
Tower of London, ii., 205
Towers, Dr., Notice of, i., 236
Travelling in Ireland, i., 287
Trinity College, Dublin, i., 288
Trippier, the Parisian Avocat, i., 195
Troy, Dr., Archbishop of Dublin, i., 385 ,

his Poverty, 386

Traro, Lord-Chancellor (Sir Thomaa
Wilde), large Fee to, i., 19 ; originally
an Attorney, 29
Union Debating-Clubs at Oxford and

Cambridge, i., 253

Union, the, opposed by Curran. Plun
ket, Fonsonby, Suunn, Burrowes,
Bushe, and the Irish Par genera'ly,
i., 129 ; Barrington's Kistoric Me-
moirs of, 246 ; how the Measure \vaa
carried, 248 ; oppost d by O'Connell,
369 ; obtained on broken Promises,
ii., 98
" United Irishman, the," edited by

John Mitchel, ii., 118
Vallancev, General, the Antiquarian,
ii., 260
Vathek," Author of, i., 193

IJDM71D) Icy J-* ^ : T u-ni^ixy J.AH int'i. vyij B*|

Sullivan, Stephen, tried and convicted Verdicts, Strange, i., 26

of Murder, i., 56 ; his Confession, 56
" Sun, The," London Newspaper, i., 9,

and ii., 331

Sussex, Duke of, Memoir of, ii., 219
Sutton, Charles Manners (Viscount Can-
terbury), Speaker of the House of
Commons, ii., 207 ; at Brougham's
Levee, 350

Tabinet Ball, the Dublin, i, 328
Tandy, Napper, a United Irishman,

ii.,9
Taylor, General Zachary, Wellington's

Opinion of, ii., 309
" Tenth, The," Anecdotes of, i., 355
Terror, Irish Reign of, ii., 14
Test and Corporation Acts repeals^,

ii., 315

Teynham, Lord, ii., 333
Thurlow, Lord-Chancellor, i., 104; his

Opinion of Burke, 238
" Times" Newspaper, Influence of, i., 39
Tinnahinch, Grattan's Seat, i., 115
Tipperary, Crime in, ii., 65 ; Antiquity

and Causes of, 66

Toler, John (Earl of Norbury), ii., 5
Tone, Theobald Wolfe, i., 363; Secre-
tary of the Catholics, 366 ; his Sui-
nde, ii., 9; Scene with Sir George
Hill, 31 ; his Eventful Career, 119

Vestris, Madame, i., 343

Vice-Queen, an American, i., 332

Victoria, Queen, visits Ireland, i., 22

Vizard, William, Attorney to Queen
Caroline, ii., 348

Voltaire, Notice of, i., 79

Volunteers, the Irish, i., 363

Walker's " Hibernian Magazine," ii.,
178

WALLACE, THOMAS,]'. ,269; Promotion,
270 ; Liberal Opinions, 270 ; Intel-
lectual Powers, and Appearance, 27 1;
on Jury-Cases, 274 ; Fearlessness at
the Bar, 276 ; Literary Taste, 285 ;
in Parliament, 286

Wih John, tried at Clonmel Assizes,
ii., 47

War, Four Years' Expenses of, ii., 341

Warren, Mr. Sergeant, i., 189

Waterford Election, ii., 235

Welle aley, Marquis, why made Irish
Viceroy, i., 178 ; Bottle-Riot against,
266 ; his Marriage, 334 ; at Tabinet
Ball, 335 ; Memoir of, 336 ; Assump-
tion of Regal State by, 337

Wellesley, Marchioness, suggests the
Tabinet Ball, i., 329 ; Memoir of, 332 ;
her reputed Wealth, 334 ; her Per-
son described, 338 ; Death of, ii., 3(J£

330

INDEX.

Wellington, Duke of, Epigram on, i., 23;
Letter to Archbishop Curtis, i., 387 ;
his Career, ii., 308 ; imputed Want
of Nationality, 309 ; at Lord Brough-
am's Levee, 345
Wetherell, Sir Charles, ii., 210
Wexford Assizes, Sketch of, i., 287 ;

Trial of Father Carroll, 304
Wexford, old Monastery of, i., 290

Peasantry of, i., 292

Massacre on the Bridge of, i., 297

O'Connell's Entrance into, i.,298

Whiteboys, why so called, i., 39
Whiteboyism, how caused, ii., 67
Whitehall, London, Government Offices

in, i., 254

Wigs, Lawyers', Differences in, i., 174
Wilde, Sir Thomas (Lord Truro), large

Fee to, i., 19

Wilkins, Mr. Sergeant, Leader of the

Northern Circuit, in England, i., 174

Williion III., a Dutch Adventurer, i. 88

Willis, N. P., his " Pencillings by the

Way," ii., 213
Wilson, Harriet, Notice of i. 348

Wilson, Sir Robert, ii., 347

Wilson, Sir T. M., High-Sheriff of Kent,
ii., 326

Winchilsea, Earl of, ii., 325; his Kent-
ish Speech, 331

Windele, John, Irish Antiquarian, i., 13

Windham, Opinion of Burke, i., 238

Wings, the, of Emancipation Bill, i.,
7 ; what they were, ii., 276

Wolfe, Rev. Charles, an Orator in the
Historical Society, i., 253

Wolfe, Chief-Baron, Carelessness of
Attire, ii., 307 ; his Career, 119

Wolstoncroft, Mary, Author of " The
Rights of Woman," ii., 122

Yelverton, Barry, his Career, i., 25 :
Friendship for Curran, 303

Yelverton, Lawyers, the, i., 205

York, Archbishop of, ii., 345

York, Duke of, Anti-Catholic Speech
by, ii., 207

Young, Arthur, on Irish Crime, ii., 66

Young, Murdo, of " The Sun" News-
paper, ii., 331

" Young Ireland" Party foimed, i., $69

THE BHT>

The Cheapest Catholic Booh Store in the U. S.

IRISH NATIONAL BOOKS,

PUBLISHED AND FOR SA[.E BY

IF. CT. IKIEItTIEID-Z-,

Excelsior Catholic Publishing House,

5 BARCLAY STREET, - NEW YORK.

Booksellers, Agents, Missions, Libraries and Premiums Supplied.

Apparitions at Knock Chapel $ 25

Adventures of Michael Dwyer 1 00

Adelmar, the Templar, A Tale of the Crusades 40

Harrington's Sketches of His Own Times 1 50

Battle of Ventry Harbor 20

Bits of Blarney. By Mackenzie 150

Blanche, or The Great Evils of Pride . . 40

Blind Agnese. By Caddell (New Edition) 60

Brooksiana. Hughes and Brooks Controversy 75

Butler's Feasts and Fasts of the Church 1 25

Canon Sehmid's Exquisite Tales. 6 vols 300

Cannon's Practical Spelling Book 25

Carpenter's Speller's Practical Assistant. . . '. 25

Carroll 0'Donot,*hue. A Tale of 1866 1 00

Catholic Home Library. 8 vols 4 00

Catholic Presentation Library. 8 vols 4 80

Catholic Juvenile Library. 6 vols 2 50

Catholic Keepsake Library. 6 vols 4 50

Catholic Piety (Prayer Book) 50cto 450

Catechism, Boston (Bishop Fenwick) 05

Catechism. Butler's Large. Revised 08

Catechism. Butler's with Mass Prayers 30'

Catechism. Butler's Small 03

Catechism. General — ^National Council 05

Catechism. General, with Mass Prayers 15

Catechism. General, with Epistles and Gospels 25

Catechism. General, Abridged 03

Catechism. (New York) or Short Abridgement 03

Catechism. Spanish— Astete 15

Catechism. Spanish-Caton Cristiano 15

Catechism, Spanish — Ripalda. 12

Challoner's Bible History 50

If you want any books in this list send me the retail price in a registered
letter, or by Post Office order, and you will receive them free by return
mail. I Avill take 3 cent postage stamps for change. Live Agents wanted in
every town in the United States to sell Catholic Prayer Books, American
and Irish Story Books, etc., etc., comprising all Catholi'c Books published in
the United States. Very liberal inducements offered. Send immediately
for terms and territory, as preference will be given to first applicants.

P. J. KENBDY, EXCELSIOR CATHOLIC PUBLISHING HOUSE,
5 Barclay St., New York.

Publications of P. J. Kenedy, 5 Barclay St., N. T.

Chateau Lescure. A Story of Brittany 50

Christian's Rule of Life. By Ligouii 30

Christian Virtues. By Ligouri 100

Christmas Mint's Entertainments 60

Clifton Tracts. Library of Controversy '3 00

Conversion of Marie Aljihonse Katisbonne 50

Crown of Jesus. (Prayer Book) $1.00 to 10 00

Daily Companion. (Prayer Book) 25c to 2 50

Daily Piety. (Prayer Book) cCc to 1 00

Dalaradia. A New Irish Story 75

Das Paradies Gartlein Ooc to 1 25

Davis' Poems and Essays. Complete 1 50

Devout Manual. 32mo and 18mo 35c to 4 00

DickMassey. A Story of Irish Evictions 100

Douay Bible. Approved Editions $2.50 25 00

Dove of the Tabernacle. By Kinane 75

El Diamante Del Catolica 75c to 4 00

Elevation of the Soul to God 75

Erin Go Bragh Songster. (Sentimental) 25

Eucharistica. By Archbishop Walsh 1 50

Excelsior Catholic Library. 6 vcls T 4 50

Exercises of the Way of the Cross 05

Faith and Fancy. (Poems) by John Savage 75

Fashion. By Hendrik Conscience 50

Father Burke's Lectures. In America 2 00

Father Bnrke's Lectures. Second Series 2 00

Father Burke's Lectures. In Ireland 2 50

Father Burke's Reply to Froude 1 00

Faugh A Ballagh Songster. (Comic) 25

Fifty Reasons. Roman Catholic Religion 25

Flowers of Piety. (Prayer Book) 35c to 1 25

Following of Christ. By A'Kempis 40

Franciscan Way. ( Prayer Book) 75c to 1 75

Furniss' Tracts. For Spiritual Reading 1 00

Gems of Prayer. ( Prayer Book) 20c to 2.00

Glories of Mary. By St. Ligruri 1 25

Goffine's Instructions. Epistles and Gospels 2 00

Golden Book of the Confraternities .".... 50

Good Reading for Young Girls. (New) 75

Grace's Outlines of History 50

Grounds of Catholic Doctrine 25

Hay on Miracles. Their Nature, etc 1 00

Historical and Biographical Stories : 1 00

Hours Before the Altar. Meditations 50

Hours With the Sacred Heart of Jesus 50

How to Make the Mission 10

Ireland's Present Agitation. Sister Clare 1 50

Irish Fireside Stories, Tales and Legends 1 25

Irish Race, Past and Present. Th -baud 250

Irish National Songster. (Patriotic) 1 00

Keating's History of Ireland. O'Mahony 4 00

Keenan's Doctrinal Catechism, Approved Edition 50

Keeper of the Lazaretto, By Souvestre 40

Key of Heaven. All Sizes 50c to 40 00

King's Daughter. A Beautiful Allegory 75

Kirwan Unmasked. Archbishop Hughes 12

L'Anpe Conducteur 75c to 4 00

Legends and Fairy Tales of Ireland 2 00

Leutcn Manual. By Archbishop Walsh 50

If you want any books in this list send me the retail price in a registered
letter, or by. Post Office order, and you will receive them free by return
mail. I will take 3 cent postage stamps for change. Live Agents wanted in
every town in the United States to sell Catholic Prayer Books, published in
the United States. Very liberal inducements offered. Send immediately
for terms and territory, as preference will be given to first applicants.

P. J. KENEDY, EXCELSIOR CATHOLIC PUBLISHING HOUSE,
5 Barclay St., New York.

Publications of P. J. Kenedy^ 5 Barclay Street, N . T. 3

Life-of Christ. St. Bona venture. Illustrated 125

Life of Christ. By Louis Veuillot 2 50

Life of Hugh O'Neill, Earl of Tyrone 1 00

Life of John Philpot Curran. 1 50

Life of Pius IX. By Rev. B. J. O'Kieily 2 50

Life of Kobert Emmett. By Madden 1 50

Life of St. Alphonsus Ligouri 75

Life of St. Bridget— Virgin and Abbess 10

Life of St. Ignatius, Founder of Society of Jesus 3 00

Life of St. Louis, King of France 40

Life of St. Mary of Egypt and St. Cecilia 60

Life of St. Patrick, Apostle of Ireland 1 00

Life of St. Winefride amUSt. Catharine 60

Life Stories of Dying Penitents. By Price 75

Lily of Is rael, By L'Abbe Gerbet 75

Little Flowers of Piety $1.50 2 00

Little Frank, or the Painter's Progress 50

Little Lives of the Great Saints. Murray 1 00

Little Manual of the Blessed Trinity 75c to 5 50

Lizzie Maitland. By Mrs. Clarke 75

Louisa K i rk bride. A. New Catholic Story 2 50

Love of Jesus Christ. By Ligouri 50

Manual of the Blessed Trinity $1.00 to 10 00

Manual of Catholic Prayers 37c to 2 50

Manual of the Children of Mary. For Sodalities 50

Manual of the Crucifixion 63c to 500

Manual of the Sacred Heart of Jesus 60

Mater Admirabilis. By Rev. Alfred Monnin. 150

May Brooke. By MLS. Anna H. Dorsey 1 00

Meditations on the Incarnation. By Ligouri 75

Milner's End of Religious Controversy 75

Mirror of True Womanhood. By Fr O'Reilly 2 50

Mirror, and True Men as We Xeeti Them 3 50

MissionBook. 24mo and 18mo 50c to 400

Mission and Duties of Young Women 60

Month of Mary or the Love of Mary 50

Moore's History of Ireland. Complete . 500

Moore's Life of Sheridan 1 50

My Trip to France. By Donelan . 1 00.

New Ireland. By A. M. Sullivan, M. P 1 25

New Testament. Approved Edition 50

New Testament. In the Spanish Language 1 50

Ninety-Eight and Forty- Eight. By John Savage 1 50

Oramaika. A Beautiful Indian Story 75

Orsini's Life of the Blessed Virgin Mary 75

The Same, Large Edition, Steel Plates 3 75

Pocket Catholic Manual. (Prayer Book) 25c to 2 00

Pocket Key of Heaven. (Prayer Book).. 25c to 1 25

Poems. By Wm. Collins 75

Poems. By John Savage 2 00

Poor Man's Catechism. (Large Print) 75

Prayer Books. All Styles .20c to 40 00

Prayer, the Means of Salvation. By Ligouri 50

Preparation for Death. . By Ligouri 75

Prose and Poetry of Ireland. J. O'K. Murray. 3 00

Purgatory Opened to the Piety of the Faithful 40

Religion and Science, Their Union Considered 1 00

Rodriguez's Christian and Religious Perfection 4 00

If you want any books in this list send me the retail price in a registered
letter, or by Post office order, and you will receive them free by return
mail. I will take 3 cent postage stamps for change. Live Agents wanted in
every town in the United States to sell Catholic Prayer Books,. American
and Irish Story Books, etc., etc., comprising all Catholic Books published in
the United States. Very liberal inducements ottered. Send immediately
1'or terms and territory, us preference will be given to first applicants.

P. J. KENEDY, EXCELSIOR CATHOLIC PUBLISHING HOUSE,
5 Barclay St., New York.

4 Publications of P. J. Kenedy, 5 Barclay Street, N. T.

Rome, the Capital of the Christian World 1 00

Kory the Rapparee. By Wm. Collins v 75

Rosary of the Blessed Virgin Mary ; 10

Saintly Characters, Presented for Canonization 75

Scapular Book. Brown, Red, Blue, etc • 10

Seraphic Manual. (Prayer Book) 75c to 3 50

Seraphic Staff. Card of St. Francis 25

Shea's History of Catholic Church in United States 2 00

Shea's Catholic Missions Among Indian Tribes 2 50

Shea's History of Modern Europe ; 1 25

Shea's School History of the United States 50

Shiel's Sketches of the Irish Bar 1 50

Silvia. By a Sister of Charity. 1 50

Sixteen Names of Ancient Ireland 50

Speeches from the Dock. Emmett, Meagher, etc 1 25

Spirit of St. Ligouri, and Visits 75

Spiritual Maxims of St. Vincent de Paul 40

Stations of the Way of the Cross 10

St. John's Manual. (Complete Prayer Book) $1.50 to 40 00

Sunday School Teacher's Class Book. Per doz 1 50

Sure Way to Find Out the True Religion. 25

Sybil. A Tragedy. By John Savage 75

Talks About Ireland. By James Redpath 30

The Catholic Offering. By Archbishop Walsh 150

The Church and Gentile World. By Thcbaud 6 00

The Hamiltons, or Sunshine in Storm 50

The Maltese Cross, and Other Tales 40

The Papist Misrepresented and Represented 25

The Shipwreck or the Desert Island 75

The Three Eleanors. By Cora Berkley 75

The Two Cottages. By Lady Fullerton. . . . 50

The Young Captives. An Historical Tale 50

The Young Crusader. A Story of the Holy War 50

The Youth's Director, or Familiar Instruction 50

Think Well O'nt. By Bishop Challoner 40

Thornberry Abbey, or Struggles of a Convert 50

Three Kings of Cologne. By Fr. Joslin : 30

True Men as We Need Them, By O'Reilly, 2 50

Tuborville (or Douay) Catechism 25

Ursuline Manual. (Prayer Book) 75c to 20 00

Vision of Old Andrew the Weaver 50

Visits to the Blessed Sacrament. By Ligouri 50

Western Missions and Missionaries. De Smet 200

Wild Irish Girl. By Lady Morgan . . 1 00

Willy Reilly and His Dear Colle en Bawn 1 00

Zozimus Papers. Comic and Sentimental 75

/// /V«w, will be ready soon :
Life of Archbishop Mac Hale. By Canon J. Ulick Bourke.

SPORTS.

Moore's Poetical Works. 8vo. Illustrated 300

Shakespeare's Works. 8vo. Complete 350

Burns' Poetical Works. 8vo. Illustrated ..- 375

Byron's Poetical Works. 8vo. Illustrated 375

RED LINE EDITIONS. Moore, Burns, Shakespeare, Tennyson, Words-
worth, Proctor, Ossian, Pope, Dryden, and twenty-five other Great

Poets, beautifully bound in gilt edges, each 1 25

The same plain 1 00

If you want any books in this list send me the retail price in a registered
letter, or by Post Office order, and you will receive them free by return
mail. I will take 3 cent postage stamps for change. Live Agents wanted in
every town in the United States to sell Catholic Prayer Books, American
and Irish Story Books, etc., etc., comprising all Catholic Books published in
the United States. Very liberal .inducements offered. Send immediately
for terms and territory, as preference will be given to first applicants.

P. J. KENEDY, EXCELSIOR CATHOLIC PUBLISHING HOUSE,
5 Barclay St., New York.

K 31 .85 1882 SMC
Shell, Richard Lalor,
Sketches of the Irish bar
47229877