o Bayard ,TUCKE R7A ATsr, Jr. TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 3 9090 013 420 357 Webster i-arroly Liu^div -j. ^-- ■'^^•j, . Cummiras School ot Vatennary svlediCius at Tufts University 200 Westboro Road t^orshGrariOi\yA0153S REAL LIFE IN IRELAND ','/ '*" JifU'fi, REAL LIFE IN IRELAND OR, THE DAY AND NIGHT SCENES, ROVINGS, RAMBLES, AND SPREES, BULLS, BLUNDERS, BODDERATION AND BLARNEY OF BRL\N BORU, ESQ., AND HIS ELEGANT FRIEND SIR SHAWN O'DOGHERTY ; EXHIBITING A REAL PICTURE OF CHAR- ACTERS, MANNERS, ETC., IN HIGH AND LOW LIFE IN DUBLIN AND VARIOUS PARTS OF IRELAND EMBELLISHED WITH HUMOROUS COLOURED ENGRAVINGS, FROM ORIGINAL DESIGNS BY THE MOST EMINENT ARTISTS BY A REAL PADDY METHUEN AND CO. LONDON 1904 NOTE 'T^HIS Issue is founded on the Fourth Edition published by W. Evans and Co. A WORD TO THE WISE If the Metropolis of England abounds with adventure, in that of the sister kingdom there must be an overflow. The spirits of an Irishman are always ten degrees above proof, like the whiskey he delights to extol. His outside is as rough as the skin of an unwashed potatoe, and his heart within is as warm as that vegetable w^hen well boiled ; he seldom considers, and he has not patience to think ; he never reflects, except on what mischief he can do ; he has neither prudence nor discretion, and he deems himself a being sent into this world expressly to make merry. Providence has planted him on a spot rich with all the blessings of nature and art, and industry has embelHshed it most lavishly with bounties; he cannot have a finer field to plan his tricks in by night or day than his dear native soil affords. Two roving Boys are represented in this Work, well known in all the gay scenes of life ; we shall follow them through thick and thin, good or ill fortune, and describe with fearless truth the follies and vagaries that characterize the Bucks and Bloods of Paddy's Land. ERIN GO BRAGH ! PAGE CONTENTS CHAPTER I Ireland as it is— Brian Boru, Esq., and Sir Shawn O'Dog- herty introduced to the reader— What course the author intends to pursue — Irish partiality for ancient names— Boru's estate— Smuggling and distilling — Sir Shawn O'Dogherty's qualifications — A start from Boru's Castle— Judy Macanulti— Intended presents- Peg O'Shambles mounted in the curricle — Her story — Brian Boru arrives in Belfast — Song, ' Mrs. O'Shambles, the pride of Belfast,' ....... CHAPTER II Boru's country exploits — A fox-chase through a Methodist Chapel — Account of Garry Owen — Personal qualifica- tions— Education — A poor scholar — His use in a family — Boru's pleasure-boat upset, and his Tutor drowned in the Shannon — Goes to a boarding-school at Limerick — Country life— Galway Gaol — Gallows anecdotes — Introduced to a Marquis — First peep into high life — Lord Sheepy's misfortunes and folly — A low battle in High-street — Patrick Mooney and his Master on their travels — View of Dublin — Arrival at Morrison's Hotel, Dawson-street — A sleepy conclusion, . . . lo vii viii LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER III PAGE Stanzas to my Country and King — Irish ceremony ; or no waiting breakfast when you have an echo in your stomach — Captain Grammachree's Family, and their characters— Bad puns — Brian Boru new rigged-out, and Grammachree's remarks thereon — The ' Living-God ' of Sir Shawn O'Dogherty — Excuses for swearing — Irish blessings conveyed in curses — A death-bed oath — Paddy pawns his breeches to drink with a friend — An Irish ditty in Merion Square, by Captain Gramma- chree, ......... 20 CHAPTER IV Trip to the Black Rock — Description — Comparison- Thunder and lightning — Picturesque view — Bourke Fitzsimon's cottage — Lord Donoughmore's poor rela- tions— The Bay of Dublin — Ireland's Eye — Lambay — Hill of Howth — Crowning the King of Dalkey — Drowning certain characters — Battle of the cats — Tabbies and Blues — A patent risk machine — A steam- boat— Lady Demiquaver introduced — Her influence in the world of Fashion — Bedershin — Wine and merri- ment— Song, 'Black Rock, or Wigs on the Green' — Cellar-boy's retort — Sir Shawn O'Dogherty and Gram- machree mount a Jingle — Pick up Poll Rattlewell — Confab — The Lord Lieutenant's dog-stealer— Descrip- tion of a Jingle — Bagot-street nuisances — A sleepy driver — A blind horse and an upset on a bridge — Perilous situation of Grammachree, Brian, and Poll — An exulting cheer from Sir Shawn — A soft fall — A happy release from Low Life in Dublin, ... 34 CHAPTER V A release from a tumble — Ups and downs of a girl of the town — Growlers in grain — Jingling wit — A carriage CONTENTS ix PAGE harnessed by the belts of a wooden leg — Scene at Sally M'Lean's, the Abbess of Stafford-street— List of beauties — Natural question by old maids — A grand row in Dame-street with watchmen, police, soldiers, chimney-sweepers, and Major Sirr — En- counter with a second-hand reading corporal — Safe at home — Brian Boru's Muse on fire again — Song, 'Dublin Nuisances, or Down with the Watchmen,' . 46 CHAPTER VI Morning — Sir Shawn roused by Grammachree singing * Paddy, now the King 's come ! ' — Sir Shawn's yacht — A fresh breeze in Pool Bag — A blunder between two bulls— A Danish broker broke down in the Bay of Dublin— Custom House yacht — Cork hooker — Land- ing on the Pier — Royal squad — Landing of the King — Glorious reception— Pat's welcome to King George, 59 CHAPTER VII Old King Cole — Low Life in a cellar — Irish remedy for a drunken wife — Supper in Dawson-street — Irish news- papers— The sun in a new head-dress — Window-tax — Typhus fever — Court of Enquiry — A steam-packet Ode to George the Fourth — True account of the royal disembarkation at Howth — Moving bogs — Dirty work for the k — g — Convents — Country beauties — Dick Martin — Middle men — Female tales — Irish knights — King lands — A pillar committee — A militiaman's zeal fundamentally exemplified — L — d K — g — n — Seeing in the dark, ........ 7" CHAPTER VIII A sight for star-gazers — Public entrance into Dublin — Jerusalem Cavalry — Triumphal Arch — Lord Mayor LIFE IN IRELAND PAGE presenting the keys of Newgate — Familiar noddings from Female friends — A royal Vulture and a stammer- ing Marshal — A lordly pun — The King to the ladies, and God send them a safe deliverance — Lifting the linen — Major Sirr and Major Swann, or how to kill a noble rebel — Sir Billy Biscuit overgorged and laying in state on Carlisle Bridge — His eloquence, good humour, and wit— His epitaph, written by himself — Consistency of an Irish corporation — A start for the Curragh of Kildare — Loyalty mud-larking — A royal whip for a horse jockey — A Duke, a Duchess, and a drive to Phcenix Park — A visit to the theatre — Brian Boru, Sir Shawn O'Dogherty, and Majesty delighted — Captain Grammachree ill of a wooden-leg rheumatism — Gets well and promoted to a Majority — Introduced to the King — Royal wit — King's embarkation and final adieu to Eiren go Bragh — A squeeze to Merion Square — Remarks upon ram skin — Morning scene — Letter from Priest Slinkem O'Slack O' Whack of' Grubble Town Ard, to Patrick Mooney — Compunctious visit- ings of Brian Boru on account of Judy Macanulty, . 90 CHAPTER LX Scene on the Naas Road — Shoving the Tumbler — Remarks on Irish Prison Discipline — Plan for selling British malefactors to the Dey of Algiers — Arrival at the Pig and Tinder Box — Beautiful Prospects — Good dinner — Tom Reed — How to make a bowl of real whiskey punch — ^Benediction upon wetting Grammachree's com- mission— Toasts — The Major's thanks — A set in for a wet night, and an escape — A lost letter found, from a Political Quack Doctor to the R— d — r of L — d — n, commonly called Black Jack — True anecdotes of Irish- men at the point of death — Nelson's pillar — Descrip- tion of the Rotunda Gardens — Lord Wiggins on the descriptive — Lord M. dissected — Sir Charles V. dis- CONTENTS xi PAGE played— Sir Stewart O'Stupid illuminated— Monopoly Peter puffed off— Lady Clary criticised— The Dublin Dentist, or Buck-tooth— Miss M'Murdoch, who always sits upon the family coat of arms ad libitum, CHAPTER X Entrance of Sally M' Lean— The Cutchachoo Club— Its rules and regulations— Catalani and 'God shave de Can '—Scene at Moran's Hotel and D'Arcy's in Earl- street— Miss Maydew, a clever managing girl— Tim Byrne— A shot at my grandmother's nose— Major Sham— A coal-porter's wedding— A wet at Pat Heney's in Mop-street, CHAPTER XI Continuation of a coal-porter's wedding— A pump and a ferry-boat— Scene at Poll Katalane's— Monkey's allow- ance served out— End of the wedding— A mistake in the bedding— Captain Grammachree in a car with a litfer of pigs— Brian Boru's strange bed -fellows— Pat Mooney's remarks upon Dublin Castle— A trip to the Phoenix Park— A cold collation of hot meats— Visit to the canal basin, and a boat-race for a cow— Brian Boru proclaimed the winner, 107 122 m CHAPTER XH A public audience, and introduction of Brian Boru at the Castle— Making a Knight— A batch of ditto— Hell by Twilight— A cellar scene, and Grammachree in high order— Scene in Dirty Lane— An Irish mummy pit— A visit to a holy well— The devil's drawing-room- Arrival at Balbriggan, ^3^ xii LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER XIII PAGE Scenery at Balbriggan— Meeting with Lady Demiquaver— Belle Vue— The word of a demirep— A view from Dirty Lane— The life of a lawyer— Dublin Four Courts — Seats of Justice— Lord Quiverwit— Culpable homi- cide by compulsion— A woman guilty of manslaughter —A bogtrotting beauty at the Bar— Good reasons for sheep-stealing — An absent council — Thady Muck- mutton and Bob Johnston— Comfort to those going to be hang'd, or let them do it— Monody in prose upon Drunken Bob — Compunctions of conscience, or Lady Muchaulty uppermost — Crim. Con. and Counsellor Philips— Hot beef-steaks at the Struggler— Pat Due- ginan and his new cooking apparatus — Virtues of bog-turf— Struggles to live, and a slumber in the arms of Murphy, .149 CHAPTER XIV A man's life prolonged for public good— A walk up the Canal— Out of town and still in it — Miseries of London— A King kicking alive— Brian Boru moraliz- ing—A planxty to the memory of Bob Johnston— A damned soul— A pretty girl, and religion turned keel upwards— Buck Whaley, and murder in Irish— Sally Jenkinson's history— Trip to sea— A song, and an upset in a squall— A water party, . . . ,159 CHAPTER XV Why an Irishman cannot be drowned— Why a dead man cannot speak — A particular mode of thanks for being alive when you thought you were dead— The death of Tom Evans— Rough and ready on board a man of war —Turning the turtle — An attack upon a bomb battery —A challenge— A Dutch sexton's hand-bills— Brian CONTENTS xiii PAGE shoots his mark — Songs on the occasion, by Brian Boru and Grammachrec — Sally Jenkinson's moral observa- tions, ......... 170 CHAPTER XVI On Carolin, the old Irish bard — Song, 'Evelina' — Shaking a Paddy out of his breeches — Character of an Irishman — Women — Sally's Song — How to disturb a woman's heart — A walking-stick companion, and a weather cock — Aldgate pump — Advancing into the centre of a subject — A living clock case — Brian keeps a mistress, turns horse-racer, etc. — His extravagance — Sells his stud, and retrenches, ....... 183 CHAPTER XVII Brian Boru arrested, and thrown into the Sheriff's Prison — Tap-room of ditto — The prisoners' welcome to the sheriff's tub — A visit — A touch at description — Dinner at the mess — A wet evening amongst dry fellows, . 192 CHAPTER XVIII A drunken piper prostrate — Meeting at a prison supper, Swan the exciseman, in character — Swigging — An Irish song to a Scotch air — Seeing the parson with another man's wife — The Exciseman's story— A board- ing-school edification — An informer — Duty of an ex- ciseman— Song, ' The Devil came o'er the Curragh of Kildare,' ......... 201 CHAPTER XIX More fun — Captain Blake's town and country house — Charles Fox, or the force of habit — A turn up and xiv LIFE IN IRELAND PAGE a turn in — Gaol birds, a description — Mr. T. the lawyer, and Sir John the swindler — Puns — The German tailor teaching Irish — The King and a good joke — An explanation in Germany, and a surprise — Captain Fleereton — How to break a man's neck at the Cape of Good Hope — Close shooting — Major B , a great brute — An atheistical old lady — An Irish scholar — Captain P , and his charity — -The Saint Domingo merchant — A tap-room ball — Honor- able Mr. D , and crhn. con.- — Damages and im- prisonment— The Bank robber, and his wardrobe — Tim Byrne, and Mr. Mack the gambler — Killing a man for a wager — The prison poet, Mr. O'Rafferty — A loyal song — Whiskey punch and corderoy breeches — A hat stealer and a battle — War hawk — Brian Boru discharged from prison — A farewell dinner — Anecdotes of Freddy Jones, the play manager — A stop at Hawkins Street, ...... 216 CHAPTER XX Dublin Theatricals — John Wilson Croker — Sir Plarcourt Lees — A Green-Room Scene — Noji est invertis — Free- dom in Love — A race for the breeches — Horace Twiss, and a Pot de Chambre — Impromptu of Lady Clare — Lady Demiquaver's lines on Lady Howe — A long letter, never a better — A trip to Dandrum, etc. — Scenes of love, and an Irish bull bait, . . . 235 CHAPTER XXI A comfortable party — Downshire Bet and the Lady — Gram come from Galway — A bastard and a bargain — New love and comfortable sleeping — A parish priest's letter — The rebel's fate — Poets, girls, and smuggled gin, 255 CONTENTS XV CHAPTER XXII PAGE A morning meeting — The dogs and a wooden leg for break- fast— K pig hunt at the Phoenix Park, and a broken limb— Entrance to the Lodge — A necessary one — The King's habits, and a cold collation, .... 266 CHAPTER XXIII A country excursion — The cream-coloured charger — A royal present — Darby Pheely's mansion — A horse laundry — Politeness — The house and company assembled — A cock fight, Bob Toiighrags and Bill Bleareye — A curse for a ^' iceroy — The bear bait — Brian Boru commences the milling system — Battle with a Kilkenny Boy — Comes oft" victorious — Loses his clothes — Mounts a dead man's rigging — Brian discovers a tight-rope dancer and a friend in Mrs. Pheely — A tender scene — A back view of a bedroom — Darby Pheely in a fit of jealousy — A woman's explanation — A cure for horns — The grey mare the better horse — A thrashing machine — The invitation — A start for Dublin^Character of a Lord Luff" — Highland soldier and the Viceroy — The tea Service, and saucy shopwomen under a mistake — Anecdote at the porter's lodge — The dinner party — Pipe water committee — A break up, .... 273 CHAPTER XXIV Foolish charity — Morning reflections — Presents for Lady Macanalty — A letter to a parish priest — A letter written with a wooden leg — An interpreter on half- pay — An invitation to a review — Irish Poetry — Dean Swift and his hatred of Ireland — A meeting — Remember to forget., a song — Virtues of a demirep — Reasons for being a militia colonel, and soldiers that wear their leggins about their hands, ....... 286 xvi LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER XXV PAGE Glory of Ireland — A grand review — Honour amongst rogues — Trip to Deneys — A man throwing his head in the fire — A militia dinner — Miss Ticklespree's workbag — Dabochlish, and the hair-trigger sword — A Song, * Hail, star of the morning' — A broken leg, and wit in profusion — The ladies, and an Irish jig, . . . 299 LIST OF THE PLATES Frontispiece Brian Boru's Entrance into Belfast Brian Boru upset in a Jingle coming from the Black Rock . . . v . . A Night Row with the Charleys in Dame Street His Majesty Landing on the Pier at Howth Captain Grammachree playing ' Paddy Whack ' A Pillar Committee .... Going to the Levee .... Procession and Te Deum Chaunt for Sir Billy Biscuit ...... Departure of the King Wetting an Irish Commission Adventures in a Whiskey Parlour Boat Race for a Cow .... Adventures in a Snoozing Cellar . A Squall ...... Squire Boru and Old Tarpaulin in a Duel The Tap in the Sheriff's Prison . The Sheriffs Prison — Swan the Exciseman A Row at a Theatre .... To face p. 6 44 50 64 65 89 92 96 102 no 129 136 142 169 178 193 202 238 xvu REAL LIFE 11^ IRELAND CHAPTER I Ireland as it is — Brian Boru, Esq., and Sir Shawn O'Dog- HERTY introduced to the reader — What course the Author intends to pursue — Irish partiality for ancient names — BoRU's estate — Smuggling and di-tilling — Sir Shawn O'Dogherty's qualifications — A start from BoRU's Castle — Judy Macanulty — Intended presents— Peg O'Shambles mounted in the curricle — Her story — Brian Boru arrives in Belfast — Song, ' Mrs. O'Shambles, the pride of Belfast.' F AM'D for potatoes, love, and whiskey, For men so brave, and girls so frisky, For ease, for elegance, and grace, With matchless impudence of face, An isle there lies, 'tis close at hand, Good humour calls it ' Paddy's Land,' But Ireland is the real name, That stamps it with immortal fame ; 'Tis number'd amongst worldly wonders. The fountain-head of bulls and blunders ; There Commerce holds her plenteous reign, And mirth that tingles every vein ; There arts and elegance arise To greet a nation's laughing-eyes ; There sorrow never found a place, And wit runs one eternal race, A 2 LIFE IN IRELAND And pleasure o'er the shamrock's dew Flings a bright wreath of glowing hue, A chaplet of unfading flowers To lull the sense with magic powers, And bind in love's enchanting train His votaries with a silken chain ; There warriors, statesmen, great and high In regular confusion lie, Like froth upon the water bubbling, They flutter up and down near Dublin ; There, too, in scenes of peace and strife. In search of Real Irish Life, My good friend Brian Boru rallies His spirits, and on tiptoe sallies To seek adventure every where, Amongst the ugly and the fair. Presto ! for mirth he starts away. And Dublin all around looks gay. Just stepp'd into a handsome property, Appears his friend Sir Shawn O'Dogherty ; 'To scatter blessings o'er the land,'" Grasps a shillelah in his hand. And reeling ripe for every joy. He moves a brave tight Irish boy. But, ere my Muse pursues a theme Which vulgar souls could never dream \ Before the Muse with seven-fold rage Brings forward on the public stage Her heroes, she must first describe From what wild wandering mountain-tribe These two eccentric mortals sprung, Whose fame in Ireland long hath rung. It is necessary here to inform my readers, that in search of Life, we do not mean to proceed by the cut and measured rule of rhyme, nor wander on jog- LIFE IN IRELAND 3 trot in the prosaic way. Real Life in Ireland is confined to no particular rule, rank, or station ; so in descanting upon it, we shall range at will the various changes of prose, poetry, or blank verse, just as it suits our purpose, and may (as we hope) please the ears of our readers. Regularity is not to be expected in following through life two of the most irregular and eccentric Beings that ever ' Prank'd the sod in frolic mood.' In truth, all the amusement which is to be hoped for must spring from their wheelings to the right or left ; a straightforward course would be as dull and mono- tonous as a journey up the banks of the River Dodder from Ringsend to Irish Town, after winding the mazes of the circular road, and enjoying the rich beauties of Beggar's Bush. In Ireland, gentle reader, parents are remarkably fond of giving to their children ancient names, rendered sacred by 'deeds of renown.' I knew several in- stances of this in the North. An old farmer, who distilled his grain upon the mountains of Morne, had his son christened Muckaweezen Thady O'Flanagan, merely because the priest told him he had read in history of a Thady Muckaweezen, who was a stable- boy to the great Earl of Tyrone, and had his weasand cut for rebellious practices. The love of ancestry is a commendable thing; it incites to heroic deeds ; and whether in search of death on the field of -battle, or in quest of Life in Dublin^ it adds a stimulus to the soul, and gives a zest to the appetite, to vulgar souls unknown. 4 LIFE IN IRELAND Brian Boru, it is well known, fell in battle against the Danes at Clontarf, near Dublin ; he was the greatest Irish King that ever made a blunder ; he unluckily fought when he should have prayed, and when he should have fought he knelt to the crucifix. His descendants have continued much like their illustrious ancestors; they have blundered and prayed through generations down to the present day, and the Brian Boru of this work is as much of a hero (though in a different way) as his great namesake. The estate which Brian Boru stepped into on the death of his father was encumbered, not with debts, but bogs, rocks, barrenness, and private stills for brewing whiskey. The famous Dick Martin of Galway (who said that the best wheaten bread in Connaught was made from a mixture of peas and barley) boasted that he had more landed property than any man in Ireland ; he might have added, and of the least value also. Such was the case with our hero; but then he had a line of coast from the Black Head to the Gallopers, where fifty buckers (smugglers) discharged their cargoes in a season, and gin and tea were as cheap in that country as impudence upon Dublin Quay. Brian Boru had a friend in Dublin who had just stepped from College into a tandem, with a clear three thousand per annum. Sir Shawn O'Dogherty was skilled in all the arts and accomplishments of Life in Dublin. He had danced at a Castle ball, been committed to Kilmainham Gaol, black-booked by Major Sirr, and held a commission in the Liberty Rangers ; in short, he was ' A boy of the holy ground.' LIFE IN IRELAND 5 He continually pestered his youthful friend to pay him a visit in Dublin, and Brian only put off compliance from day to day in hopes to get there about the time of the King's visitation, but as that continued to be put off, and appeared never likely to come on, he started one summer's morning from Born Castle in a curricle and pair, with his servant Patrick Mooney and a brace of greyhounds. The attachments Brian had formed in the country were not very strong; he loved Judy Macanulty, to be sure he did ; and why shouden't he, when Judy loved him ? He promised to send her down from Dublin a hog-trough bonnet, two poplin jockey-coats, an emerald green knocking-jacket, a pair of silken sliders to cover her ten ground smellers, and a buckle of Wicklow gold to keep her ' flesh bags ' tight and jonteel round her middle. It will be seen hereafter how well he fulfilled his promises ; in the mean time he dashed along the road in high style, anxious to gain the cover of Belfast before dark. ' God be wid your honour, if possible,' said an ould ragged woman toddling along the road with a basket on her head, ' God be wid your honour, and be after throwing your charity at me!' — 'Can you tell me a short cut to Belfast?' said Brian. ' Sure and I can do that same ; 'twill keep you three long miles to the good.' Mooney, by his master's orders, alighted and lifted the old lady into the cover of the curricle, that laid in folds behind, and on they drove through bye lanes and barren heaths, according to the old woman's directions. Brian enquired her story. 'Plase your honour,' said she, ' haven't you got a steel bar in de coach, to let us have 6 LIFE IN IRELAND a lick of by way of oiling my tongue before I begin ? ' Brian stared, he had never before heard of a steel bar being used for such purposes, and looked, as they say in Connaught, 'all a one hoo.' ' Och ! brother Blake, don't you rade me ? hand out the stalrinky ! ' Mooney immediately produced the whiskey bottle, out of which she had a hearty pull. Her tale was so long we sha'nt give it verbatim here ; suffice it, her name was Peg O'Shambles, known once as the first cockle picker at Ringsend, Dublin, but now 7'educed to sell water-grass in the streets of Belfast, through Phelim her drunken husband, who had not left her the value of a copper crawly to keep her out of the sleiigh (ditch) of despair. 'There's Belfast,' said Peg, as they rose over the summit of Hungry Hill, 'and there have I been moiling all day for the value of a hog and a penny (fourteen pence) that Phelim will swallow at one gulp.' Brian, who knew too little of life to be ashamed without cause, drove in broad daylight, with Peg at his back, up to the door of the Donegal Arms, from the window of which in the course of an hour he beheld Peg and her husband quarrelling for the ten-pennies he had given her. Brian was in his own country accounted a poet, and had gained many a pretty girl's heart by jinghng rhymes in her ear to some favourite tune. If he did not write as well as Tommy Moore, he pleased those he wrote for as well, and having nothing to amuse himself with, he invoked his Muse to assist him in the praise of Mr. and Mrs, O'Shambles. I I I LIFE IN IRELAND SONG MRS. 0' SHAMBLES, THE PRIDE OF BELFAST Tune — ' Come haste to the Wedding.' OCH, Phelim O'Shambles ! och, Phelim, my jewel 1 Says Mrs. O'Shambles, the pride of Belfast, How can you be every day taking your gruel ? Twelve naggins and more, fait ! it never can last ; I moil and I toil like a griffin from Connaught, Morn, evening, and night, does my tongue never stop. And \.\\t peivter hard earned, ye go drinking upon it, While Mrs. O'Shambles can't spring at a drop. To my kill me now, arrah do, wid your cold water now, Water 's a drink only fit for a whale, Boney got beat at the poor game of Water-loo, Whiskey had brought him off clean as a nail. It was fifteen good pounds, that I brought you by marriage, A cabin, a garden, and bonny moyl'd cow, Three beautiful children, forbye a miscarriage, My grandfather's boar, and my uncle Pat's sow ; And you, faith and truth, your own self 'twas I got, Without rag to your back, I 'd three gowns to my waist. Of the best second hand, and ye pawn'd them, ye sot ! And the money drank down, nor said, Peg, will you taste. To my kill me now, arrah do, wid your cold water now, Water 's a drink only fit for a whale, Boney got beat at the poor game of Water-loo, Whiskey had brought him off clean as a nail. There's the childer stark naked, all cover'd wid rags, Who eat no honest bit but the morsel they steal ; At home there is nothing but three empty bags, And the devil a scurrick to fill them with meal. 8 LIFE IN IRELAND Och, Phelim ! besides you 're in debt, and you know it, Ten hogs and a teaster to widow Magee, And she 'd soon nip you up, if I were to blow it, You haven't one shilling to pay it but three. To my kill me now, arrah do, wid your cold water now, Water's a drink only fit for a whale, Boney got beat 'at the poor game of Water-loo, Whiskey had brought him off clean as a nail. Is it me you disparge? said Phelim, you Devil ! A tight Dublin boy, and so handsomely cast. And you, fait and trot ! the curst spirit of evil ! Ould waddling Peg Shambles the sport of Belfnst ; A short leg and a shorter, a head with one eye in 't, A mouth with no teeth, that you better might bawl, A nose cocking up to behold your eye squint. And a hump on your back like the big Linen Hall. To my kill me now, arrah do, wid your cold water now Water 's a drink only fit for a whale, Boney got beat at the poor game of Water-loo, Whiskey had brought him off" clean as a nail. Och, Phelim ! the father of all my sweet childer, Hold still and I '11 see what the purse can afford ; Wid a naggin I '11 trate you, but only be milder, And abuse not the beautiful works of the Lord. Och, Musha ! my jewel, what I down wid a naggin? Said Phelim, and squeez'd her old bones to his heart, Och, isn't it for ever of Peggy I 'm bragging? Thy naggin I '11 drink tho' it hold but a quart. To my kill me now, arrah do, wid your cold water now, Water 's a drink only fit for a M'hale, Boney got beat at the poor game of Water-loo, Whiskey had brought him off clean as a nail. LIFE IN IRELAND My secrets in future to thee I '11 reveal 'em ! Peg smiling look'd up, and encircling his waist, If you go to the widow's and do drink, dear Phelim, If you do take a whet, ask your Peggy to taste. Away stagger'd Phelim, and Peggy beside him. Where Costigan's malt was chalk'd over the door, Crying, Bad luck to tipplers I misfortune betide 'em ! Come, one drop in comfort, and never drink more. To my kill me now, arrah do, wid your cold water now. Water's a drink only fit for a whale, Boney got beat at the poor game of Water-loo, Whiskey had brought him off clean as a nail. END OF CHAPTER I. lo LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER II BORU's country exploits — A fox-chase through a Methodist Chapel — Account of Garry Owen — Personal qualifications — Education — A poor scholar — His use in a family — BoRU's pleasure-boat upset, and his Tutor drowned in the Shannon — Goes to a boarding-school at Limerick — Country life — Galway Gaol — Gallows anecdotes — Introduced to a Marquis — First peep into high life— Lord Sheepy's misfortunes and folly — A low battle in High Street — Patrick Mooney and his master on their travels — View of Dublin — Arrival at Morrison's Hotel, Dawson Street — A sleepy conclusion. BRIAN BORU was now a pretty long distance from home, and, except a few visits to Limerick, he had never been in a city equal in size to Belfast, so justly termed the metropolis of the North. At Limerick he had beat up the quarters of the flax-dressers, and robbed the bleach-greens of many an animated pretty girl ; these may be called the sample commodity of that town, as great quantities are ex- ported from thence to America annually, where they fetch a good price. Brian was no saint; on the contrary the craw thiwipers and soap-hoard crazvlers denounced him as a miserable sinner. When these devotees were one day earnestly engaged in 'exhorting each other' to live godly, righteous, and sober lives, Brian, directing his LIFE IN IRELAND ii father's hounds, drove a fox into the chapel, or more properly speaking the barn; the hounds entered with him in full cry, and Brian with upwards of fifty horse- men fairly galloped in at one door and out at the other, trampling upon hypocrisy without remorse; nay more, the minister was seated in the body of an old jaunting car, which served for a pulpit ; Brian cleared it at one spring, carrying off with his horse's heels the wig and part of old thump the cushion^ s scalp, at the same time tipping a fine holla, that seemed a death-knell to every sinner of the gang. In truth, Brian being one of the first men of landed property in the country, did as he pleased ; it was a favourite saying of his when in his cups, ' Bad luck to Connaught, and who dare say so but myself?' and if any one dared to repeat the words, w^hack went to work the shillelah, and in the twinkling of a blind piper's eye there were 'wigs upon the green.' He also headed the ' Garry Owen boys ! ' These fellows inhabit a suburb of Limerick, much upon a par with the Liberty of Dublin, and if any one in debt flies there for protection, they grant it, and brave both the swaddles (soldiers) and the ra77iskins (bailiffs) often successfully. As the Mint in London was formerly, so was Garry Owen considered a privileged place for ivhacks and schedoms (pickpockets and rebels). The old song is still a great favourite- Wrong or right we'll take them in, To keep them out would be a sin, My father did so before me : Pay the reck'ning on the nail, No man for debt shall go to jail, Says Garry Owen to glory. 12 LIFE IN IRELAND Brian Boru might be accounted a handsome man in more civilized places than the wilds of Connaught, although he had not '&• ' Brawny shoulders four feet square, Nor cheeks like thumping red potatoes, Nor legs to make a chairman stare — Yet he was lov'd by all the ladies.' Nearly six feet high, of an athletic form, and remark- ably well made, he was active, vigorous, and strong. His education had not been neglected. When a child, he was placed under the tuition of a ' poor scholar ' ; that is, a chap who, with a smattering of Latin and Greek, begs through the country, until he begs admit- tance into some respectable family, where he teaches \)i\Q gossoons to disobey their parents, assists the servant girls in peopling the kitchen, creates a quarrel betwixt the master and mistress, and for his pains after a time is rewarded with a hearth-money collector's place, or (if a drunken dog) that of an exciseman. Under a being of this description young Boru ran through the classics with some ^<:/^/ amongst his father's friends, and at the age of thirteen was sent to a boarding-school not far from Limerick. The evening previous to his bidding adieu to Boru Castle, he gave an entertainment in his pleasure-boat on the River Shannon. Even then, obstinate as Brian Rooney's pig, he scorned all advice, managed to upset his cargo in the Tidesway, and sent the ' poor scholar ' with two gallons of whiskey punch in his belly, and a ton weight of sin upon his head, to receive the reward of his labours in another world. LIFE IN IRELAND 13 Brian's acquirements at the boarding-school were numerous, he had money ad libitum^ so that the books were not much attended to, but merely looked at for form's sake, as a judge does at a jury. All the life that was to be seen in Limerick he saw ; country vices are so gross that they are disgusting ; town vices are 'thrown off' with such elegant refinement, that they appear like virtues. Brian fought the fishermen, and smoked the Orange Lodges, drank sweet pea (whiskey) with Poll Codec the wig-seller before daylight, and often finished the night by dancing at Mother Murphy's on the Coal Quay, till he could hardly reel to bed ; nay, more than once he stretched his carrio?i amongst the wolf-dogs in Galway Gaol. There he was in safety, even had he committed a felony. A criminal under the gibbet in Green Street, Dublin, was accosted by a real Con naught boy, his friend, with 'Arrah why my dear jewel, and what are you going to be hanged for?' — 'For the want of a Galway jury,' replied the fellow; for they would surely have acquitted him. With all his faults, Brian had a warm heart ; he was good-tempered, affable, and condescending; generous in the extreme ; and every son of sorrow he considered as a brother : a more hearty, honest, country squire never set out to see Life in Dublin. Thus far I have thought it necessary to premise of our country hero ; his character will unfold as we go along, and at the end of the Essay upon Life, the reader may form an opinion of it himself, or let it alone, just as he pleases. During the short stay Brian made at Belfast, he 14 LIFE IN IRELAND was noticed by all the rich, who did not fail to quiz him on his public entrance into the town with Peg O'Shambles for a pilot, w^ho, the Reverend Phelim O'Guffimo, with his usual wit and elegance, remarked, ' was a sweet nut for the Devil to crack.' Here Brian for the first time had a transient peep behind the scenes of High Life, by being introduced to the Most noble the Marquis of Done- 'em-all. This man in early life dissipated an immense sum of money, besides a handsome annual allowance from an indulgent father ; he was a fiat among sharps. They stagged him in every corner, stuck to him like fogle-himters^ eased him of the jingling Georgfs, and lodged him in the College of Insolvents. There he was boarded by a land-shark, a sort of May-d?iy lawyer, who contrived to compromise with his creditors, and cheat them in doing so, and also cheat him by whom he was employed. The young Lord paid the price of his person to gain his liberty, and made himself a slave for life — he married the lawyer's daughter. This method of doing business, so common in high and low life, was novel to Brian BoRU, who thought all debts were paid with ready money ; he had yet to learn how gentlemen and ladies paid their debts of honour in kind, and in a kindly manner, as his cabin tenants did their tithes. From Newmarket to the Curragh the fame of Lord Sheepy was known; he was down upon everything and up to nothing, till at last he was so completely do?ie up himself that he fled to Ireland to recruit his health and estates. Executions of what are called a civil nature (though the rudest things in law) pursued him, and he LIFE IN IRELAND 15 has often assisted by his presence to fill the play-house, whilst the grabs were emptying his own. He had a large family, and his lady, to do her justice, was an excellent wife and a mother, but she had no controul over her burly-brained husband ; he ran the rig in Ireland in his old way. If he had a grain of sense in his pericranium it were easier to bring murphys from KNOCK-lofty with a blind garran, than to bring it down to his tongue's end ; he was often on the verge of bankruptcy, but, to give the Devil his due, he was saved much oftener than he deserved. At the period when our hero was introduced to him, he was, in doating old age, sueing for a divorce from his wife, on the plea of having married under age. 'By Jasus ! ' said Brian, after having heard the tale, ' if he lives to be divorced, he'll be a dead man at the time, for he don't look now to have wind sufficient to keep his mill going till the arrival of the next packet.' Sickened and disgusted with this specimen oi High Life going doivn stairs^ Brian one evening bade adieu to his Lordship, determined to take the Dublin road next morning. The High Street in Belfast is as very a low-looking one as any gentleman would wish to see. Here Brian had an opportunity of witnessing a scratch, or rather a downright ' fling down,' betwixt two mobs of nearly a hundred people. There was Up with the Orange and down with the Green, Lather the dirty boys decent and clean. The battle lasted with great energy upwards of an hour, and the officers of justice did all that they could to make them continue the fun, but in vain ; the combatants i6 LIFE IN IRELAND were done up on both sides ; and Brian observing his old pilot Peg taking a share in the muggling, ordered her to his inn, and enquired the cause of such a riot. ' 'Tis nothing at all at all, your honour,' said Peg ; ' but only as old Gilly Muckihveene, scratchatary to the Orange Club (sweet bad luck to them any day the Lord pleases !) was leaning his head agane Molshy Drumshanda's day-darkener, he took off his wig to scratch with plasure and ease, when by comes Phil Shemingshaugh, and up with his twig and fetched him a crack on his Napper Tandy ; he could not resist the temptation, your honour. "How could you hit the man ! " says Orange Blarney, the She Bear keeper at Carrick. "How could I hit him!" says Phil, "How could I be after missing him when he laid so fair?" " Fair in your bone-box ! you foul galoosh ! " said Blarney, and dabbed his right flipper bones in his muns. Up came the Orange Boys, down came the Green Goers, and to it they went pelt for pelt like flails upon a barn board. Teddy the Cleboy, plase your honour, knocked myself down wid a quart of beer. Och musha ! I put up my hand, and thought I had it full of my brains, but on putting my tongue to that same, 'twas only the froth of de pot, that had settled on my knowledge box. I hope your honour will be after helping me to per- secute Theagain Il'Moconish the bull-baiter, he 's bate the liverpin out of Phelim, who your honour saw sprawling on the blue hard hearts, la^ne of an eye and blind oi 2. leg.^ Peg ended her story, and after curtseying for a handful of tenpennies made her exit. ' 'Tis true,' said Brian thoughtfully, ' one half of the battles which begin at Irish fairs, and frequently end in LIFE IN IRELAND 17 bloodshed and murder, arise from as trivial causes as this ; my unfortunate countrymen enter on a fray for sport, and never thitik of the consequences that may follow until they are all kilt on the spot. If this be Low Life in the country, I 'm for High Life in Dublin, where I suppose people may scratch their head without fear of having their ivig broke.' Patrick Mooney, who was as anxious to get to Dublin as his master, roused him long before day had set her watch-tower in the skies. 'Why, Mooney, you're better than a Break-of-day Boy.' ' Yes, your honour, I went to bed full dressed, so that I mightn't be long putting on my clothes in the morning.' Brian was satisfied, the greyhounds occupied the place of Peg O'Shambles, the bays were in high mettle ; Two precious souls, and both agog, They dash'd through thick and thin. Nothing particular occurred during the remainder of the journey; Brian was musing on the joys to come, and thinking how Shawn O'Dogherty would run mad to receive him, when Mooney exclaimed, ' Mother of a sinner, what a fine place ! ' and his master lifting his eyes beheld the city and bay of Dublin before him — Hail to thee, friendship's seat ! Eblana, hail ! Of power to make the cheek of Envy pale : In thy proud port see every flag unfurl'd, From every kingdom of the expanded world ; Towering o'er all the union waves its wing, Pride of three kingdoms, gloiy of their King, Thy Shamrock, which heaven's glittering dews emboss, Twines round the roses of St. George's cross ; United now at Freedom's sacred shrine, All England's glories, weal, and dangers thine. B i8 LIFE IN IRELAND If Brian did not exclaim with his servant Mooney, his heart beat a responsive note — he was astonished and enraptured. The numerous elegant structures by which the streets and squares of this superb city are formed, the unparalleled public buildings rising in majestic grandeur, the winding canals, the soft-flowing Liffey and her beautiful bridges, the wide bay and numerous shipping, the rough rocks of Howth's Hill, the sloping shores of Dalkey, Dunleary, and Black Rock, and Wicklow's wide-spreading lawns, upon which Giant mountains take their stand, Like sentinels through fairy land ; All, all combined, threw such an extacy into the spirits of Brian Boru, that he loudly exclaimed, as he flogged his bays into a full gallop, ' The sooner I 'm there the better, for surely the soul of Ireland lies before me; and if there's life in the world it must be in Dublin.' They soon ran down alongside of Nelson's Monument, shook the battlements of Carlisle Bridge, threw dust in the eyes of all the Bank clerks and shoeblacks beneath the pillars of the Parliament House, quartered the College pavement, and ran bang-up to the door of Morrison's Hotel in Dawson Street. After a hearty supper, Brian toasted, in company with an old half-pay captain in the Inniskillen Dragoons, whom he had invited to partake of his bottle, * Dublin for ever ! may it be Dublin wealth, DubHn peace, and Dublin pleasure to all who visit it to partake of Life in Ireland ! ' 'A bad pun is better than no pun at all,' says Captain Grammachree, 'so here's — May the fellow be doubly d d that doesn't drink your toast in a LIFE IN IRELAND 19 bumper.' Brian ventured to enquire if he had heard of Sir Shawn O'Dogherty. * Heard ! ' exclaimed the Captain, 'blood and turf! did I ever hear a cannon fire? or did I ever hear of the rebellion? or did I ever hear of being put on the half-pay list? Why, man, he 's as well known here as the Lord Lieutenant, and a devilish sight more respected, so he is ; from the Castle to the Light House, and from Clontarf to the Black Rock, he 's the life and soul of every man, child, horse, dog, and cat in the city.' Delighted to hear his friend so handsomely spoken of, and in the anticipation of unknown joys, Brian slept as sound and as long in the morning, as though he had never been destined to show off in his person the real state of LIFE IN IRELAND! END OF CHAPTER II, 20 LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER III Stanzas to my Country and King — Irish ceremony : or no waiting breakfast when you have an echo in your stomach — Capt. Grammachree's Family, and their characters — Bad puns — Brian Boru new rigged-out, and Grammachree's remarks thereon — The 'Living God' of Sir Shawn O'Dog- HERTY — Excuses for swearing — Irish blessings conveyed in curses — A death-bed oath — Paddy pawns his breeches to drink with a friend — An Irish ditty in Alerion Square, by Capt. Grammachree. HAIL to thee ! Friendship's land, Hibernia dear, Cloth'd in the blessings of a smiling year; O'er thy wild mountains and dark-bosom'd woods, Thy long-extended plains and rushing floods, In robes of green, with brows by shamrock twin'd, And scarf of purple waving in the wind. The heavenly harp, wild warbling in his hand. Strung by the saint who guards this blessed land, The bow and quiver o'er his shoulders flung. With face commanding, firm, serene, and young, Green sandals glistening with the morning dew. Stern Independence flashes on thy view : Freedom, his light- wing'd herald, flies before, (Who bliss convey'd to Afric's blood-stain'd shore) The form benign breathes peace to all below, And Rapture's tear-drops unresisted flow. Pride of the world, and glory of this isle, Pure Independence I millions woo thy smile ; LIFE IN IRELAND 21 Intrepidly they own'd thy sovereign power In persecution's dark and troubled hour, When fate forbade the peasant's arm to toil, And blood of freemen fatten'd Ireland's soil. But lo ! the scene is chang'd, sweet Peace appears ; The long, long penance of five hundred years, With foul Suspicion, now has past away, Hurl'd with the war-fiend from the face of day The foul Perdition's dark and unknown bourne, To tread the path that never can return. Bright o'er the country Brunswick's splendid star, Portending Peace, illumines from afar ; O'er a proud nation sheds its genial rays. Reviving millions with its fostering blaze, Lo ! Fame and Glory, with expanded wings. Announce th' approach of George, the best of Kings ! He comes, and breathes around a placid calm, To pour in Ireland's wounds a healing balm. To wipe from Sorrow's eye the starting tear. And every tie of duty make more dear ; His hand extends, that blessings oft hath given Profuse as manna dropt on earth from Heaven ! Hush'd at his presence be each rude alarm ; Throng, gen'rous hearts ! with loyal duty warm, Your Monarch comes in confidence to prove, The Croivii^s best safeguard is — the People s love ! No storms precede him, and no dark array Winters the morn of Ireland's happier day ; A day that joy extends to all forlorn, And dawns with bliss to millions yet unborn. Lo ! where industrious Commerce'' canvas wings The richest fruit of India's climate brings, Arabian spices and Peruvian gold. And all the treasures China ever told : 22 LIFE IN IRELAND Confin'd no more to fair Augusta's port, In Irish ships to IRISH shores resort ; Oppressive duties now are felt no more, A Free Trade adds to Ireland's plenteous store. Thanks to the generous King the boon that gave, Safe be his passage o'er the subject wave ! Then rear thy thousand hills, spread valleys wide. By nature drest in summer's richest pride ; Shine with resplendent lustre every scene, And sparkle, brilliant isle of emerald green ! Long hast thou sigh'd to see thy Sovereign's face, To thee the best of his illustrious race ; Then, God of life and love ! oh 1 hear my prayer, Still make this island thy peculiar care ; May no vile hearts mislead her sons again, May barbarous Discord sink in endless pain, May Peace and Plenty glad her sea-girt shore, Religious frenzy sleep to wake no more ! Notwithstanding Brian Boru's fatiguing journey, and the numerous visions of delight which his fancy had formed of what he should see, hear, mark, and learn in Ireland's Metropolis, he slept as sound as a Connaught haymaker after a broiHng day's work, and it was not until the meridian sun came in at his window, and Patrick Mooney at the door, that he unclosed his heavy ogles and recollected he had invited Captain Grammachree to breakfast two hours before. The Captain, well aware of what Brian had gone through and what he was to encounter, declined dis- turbing him, but made his breakfast ; drank his usual five bowds of tea, eat his three eggs and ten pikelets, took his steadier of raspberry whiskey, and pondered over the LIFE IN IRELAND 23 Free7nan' s Journal. He had gone through three columns of a short speech of Gifford's, in which he had swore that drinking green tea infused treason into the frame, and that orange was the colour with which our first parents dyed their fig leaves in Paradise, when Brian made his descent into the coffee-room, begging the Captain's pardon for making him wait. ' Wait is it ! ' said Grammachree ; ' by my soul and I 'm waiting for my lunch, and your breakfast is waiting for you, so help yourself, and you '11 have it to your liking. We don't stand upon ceremony here ; when I have an echo in my stomach, I like to put it out as soon as possible.' Capt. Grammachree, who will make some figure in this history, was the fourth son of an Irish Peer : his father was poor, proud, and thoughtless ; extravagant upon small means, and mean upon many occasions ; he was a tool in the hands of ministers, and in reward for his readiness to do dirty work without bidding, he was made colonel of a militia regiment, and a some- thing better in the Excise or Customs, I don't choose to remember which at present. In the memorable rebellion of 1798, he had the good fortune always to be sick when his services were wanted at the head of his regiment, and thus escaped without a scar. His lord- ship's escapes were like that of the Irish soldier, who said, ' By Jasus, and I had a narrow escape from being killed at the battle of Talavera, by being sent on a foraging party three days before it took place.' It is true his Lordship once and once only shewed fight in the rear of his regiment, when his complexion from the colour of a red cabbage changed to that of a parsnip, and gave rise to a song commencing — 24 LIFE IN IRELAND No reflections On complexions, Be they ever so pale ; His lovely bottle nose, Once as red as a rose, Is as white as the cheeks That quiver when he speaks — Oh ! God in pity help thee, poor Lord ******** ' He that fights and runs away, Is better off than those that stay,' was his lordship's favourite motto, and in the Custom House he proved a gallant commander; he could handle Spence's Hydrometer more easily than a sword, and was a better judge of the spirit of whiskey than the spirit of valour. His eldest son, with a high title and a low purse, wandered about the streets of Dublin like a discontented ghost on the banks of the Styx, walked through the castle yard to beg an audience of the Secretary's clerk, and then boasted he had been to see his frie fid the Lord Lieutenant; had a sh'rl for dinner at the cookshop in Mabbot Street, took an afternoon glass of plain punch at D'Arcy's in Earl Street, where he d d Catholic emancipation, Counsellor O'Connel, and Parson Hay; eulogized the glorious memory of King William, changed his tenpenny, and rambled into Sally Maclean's to talk (only) with the bantlings ; and if he had fortunately procured an order from Talbot by prais- ing the faded charms of Emily Binden, or from Freddy Jones by writing verses in praise of his hams stewed in Madeira, he shewed himself in the stage box at the theatre, where he hissed O'Neil and applauded Walstein, calUng so often for 'God Save the King!' that you would think the Devil had nearly got fast hold of His LIFE IN IRELAND 25 Majesty, and even making Major Sirr blush for him, a thing the Major was never guilty of doing for himself in his life. This is the daily picture of Life in Dublin^ enjoyed by many young noblemen. Too proud to be useful, and too indolent for enterprize, they dwindle on from day to day less and less, till they finally drop into contempt and oblivion. The second son, of course, became a parson, the third an excise collector, and the fourth an ensign in his father's regiment of Militia. He did not think as some have thought Whom honour never crown'd, The fame a father dearly bought Could make the son renown'd. And oft he thought that if that sire No gallant deeds had done, To wipe that stain became the fire That burnt within the son. Ensign Grammachree served the whole rebellion with eclat; he got wounded at Vinegar Hill, ^d?/ away from the barn of Scullabogue just before it was burnt, got off the Bridge of Wexford on his legs just before his friends were flung off it on their heads, and at the battle of Ross^^if into the good graces of General Johnson for the cool and able manner in which he defended the Three Bullet Gate against ten times his number; this procured him a lieutenancy in the line, and after serving five years on the continent, and serving out the enemy with gallantry in every engagement, a shell at Leipsic fractured his skull, and he left a leg behind him at Waterloo. The commander-in-chief, whose name is 26 LIFE IN IRELAND dear to every soldier (notwithstanding he kept an extravagant Clark who bamboozled him) rewarded him with a Captain's commission and a pension, which he had so dearly earned. Captain Grammachree's finances were thus in a pretty flourishing state. If he could not always afford to dine at Mooren's in Sackville Street, he could always com- mand a good beef steak at Pat Duignan's, the Stmggkr, and a naggin of good stalrinky punch. He kept his pad and a very pretty bedside-carpet ; lodged contiguous to Crow Street Theatre in winter, and in summer put up at Mrs. Coogan's of Ringsend, for the benefit of sea- bathing, and living upon crabs and cockles^ which are as plentiful and cheap in that place, as materials for making apples and goat's whey are at Dandrum. The Captain, by his moderate way of living in private, always appeared genteel in public ; he was admitted into the first societies ; his rank and character entitled him to respect ; and he received it, not as a compliment or favour bestowed, but as a tribute he knew to be justly due and which he had no cause to blush at receiving. His manners were unpolished, but he was always in a good humour with himself and all around him ; more- over he was an Irish wit, said many good things, at least his brogue and manner of delivery created a laugh, when there was really nothing in the story worth a smile. He often committed blunders, and as his memory was none of the best, he often spoiled a good thing by repetition ; take the following instance : — The Major of a northern city had an allowance for a table on a very handsome scale, which was suddenly / LIFE IN IRELAND 27 withdrawn ; shortly after, he requested a punning barrister to dine with him, observing, ' I shall only give you cold beef, they have deprived me of the usual allowance, and I don't know what I shall do.' — ' Do ! ' said the punster, ' why as many of our patriots do ; eat your beef without salary.'^ Captain Grammachree, in repeating this story, forgot the very pith of it, and sub- stituted for the conclusion, 'you must eat your beef without cabbage ' ; of course no one could perceive the joke, and not a smile appeared. ' I don't know why you don't laugh,' said the Captain, ' but, by Jasus ! every body laughed when I first heard it,' Barring these bulls, the Captain was a pleasant com- panion ; he knew every officer of note ; his rank, time of entering the service, etc. etc., by rote ; in fact he was called amongst his brother officers ' The Walking Army List'; but he had, what ought not to be for- gotten in this enumeration of his qualities, a good and a generous heart ; as the tear fell from his eye at the tale of affliction, his hand involuntarily entered his pocket to relieve the object. When merit own'd the sufferer's name, He shower'd his bounty then, And those who could not prove that claim, He succour'd still as men. Poor Grammachree ! I have whiled away many a happy hour in thy company ; may the laurels of thy youth never be plucked from thy forehead in age, when thou wilt most stand in need of their friendly shelter ! The important share the Captain has in Life in Ireland, must apologize for my being thus particular as to his character. 28 LIFE IN IRELAND Breakfast being dispatched, a confabulation took place betwixt the two new friends on the material subject of apparel. * Is it,' said Grammachree, 'in these tundering brown rags you 're going to visit Shawn O'Dogherty ? By the holy poker ! all Dublin will be after laughing at you ; the boys at the Pheusa- tecnecan would hoot us, and half the attorneys' clerks in Bagot Street would hunt us to Merion Square, as if we were thieves going to O'Grady, with a brief-account of sheep-staling. Your pockets would hould a cargo of smuggled tobacco, and the tails of your coat cover a bleach green ; as for your boots, the Wicklow girls would take 'em for hatid-churns if your brawney legs were put outside of them.' By the Captain's advice Murphy was sent for, and in four hours' time accommodated Brian with as taper a suit of the first cut as ever was shook in Dame Street ; to be sure they sat rather awkward upon Brian, and caused Grammachree to compare him to David in Saul's armour, ' or more properly speaking,' said he, ' like an Egyptian ox clad in silks for a sacrifice ; so come along, my boy, and I '11 stand executioner on the occasion. Och, by my soul ! ' he cried, as they entered Merion Square, eyeing Brian from top to toe, ' beef to the heels, like a Mullingar heifer! it's well seen you come from a country where there's more meat than modesty, and more pigs than Protestants any day in the year ! ' ' By the living G — d you 're welcome to your friend and to Dublin ! ' exclaimed Sir Shawn O'Dogherty, as he shook Brian heartily by the hand, who cordially returned the squeeze. Be not alarmed, good reader, LIFE IN IRELAND 29 that the most polished gentleman in Ireland, for whom love had twined her most delicate garlands, and fashion acknowledged as a supreme dictator ; be not astonished that he should be introduced to thee with an oath on his lips, and that a tremendous one, sufficient, as Shak- spear has it, to ' split the ears of the groundlings/ or give a methodist parson the glanders. Sir Shawn O'Doghertv was very seldom addicted to swearing, except at his dogs or himself when he was out of humour with either, which was rarely the case, for he was ' Laughter holding both his sides. But there are particular occasions when an Irishman cannot avoid swearing ; in speaking of an absent friend he will say, ' Now the Devil keep him away till he 's tir'd of staying, but I wish he was here, so I do.' Or ' Devil split him ! I wish he was in hell or Connaught, and then we'd know where to find him.' Thus, in meeting after a long absence, he exclaims with energy, and a friendly wag of the daddle, ' Bad luck to your soul ! and worse to the world if it doesn't use you well ; I hope you 're hearty and be d d to you ! ' Or this, 'Hunger and rags be your portion in this world and the next ! arn't you come to dinner, the Devil choke you?' There is something warm and friendly in thus first sending a man to perdition and then dragging him out of it with a blessing. I remember once standing on the Light-House Walk, Dublin, with a right good fellow as ever took the froth of a pot, or the bead of a naggin, speaking of an absentee's virtues — 'Do you love our so LIFE IN IRELAND friend Tom, Pat?' said L 'Don't I love him!' he quickly rejoined ; ' by the holy mother ! I wish he was drowning in that water that I might have the pleasure to jump in and save his life.' 'Can you swim, Pat?' 'Devil a stroke! all's one for that, I'd have a plunge after him if he were there.' It is the nature of an Irishman to let his tongue run away with his heart, and surely the oath that involun- tarily flows from a generous, kind, and benevolent motive, will not be placed amongst the 'idle words which man uttereth,' and has to be answerable for at the last day. An instance of this careless mode of expression occurred in mine own neighbourhood, no matter where, I have sound family reasons for keeping it a secret. A hearty young farmer, I knew him well ; he was never ashamed of his name, and why should friendship blush to write Tom Cahee? The typhus fever knocked him off, the doctor gave him up for a bad job, and the priest greased his joints to make him walk lissom up the narrow road to render up his accounts; his wife hung over him in all the tenderness of grief! 'Pray for my soul when I am gone, Hannah ! ' whispered the dying man. 'I will, my dear jewel,' she said, 'break the patience of half the Saints by doing that same by day and night, and many other times beside, and don't forget me when you 're in Heaven, Tom.' ' If I do, God damme ! ' faltered from his lips, and he shortly after expired ! The man meant no harm ; it was a pledge of affec- tion given to his wife ; he could not give it in stronger terms. I have not a doubt but he kept his word, and LIFE IN IRELAND 31 that God did not d n him either for the love he bore his wife, or making use of His name to show it. An Irishman can no more refrain from rapping out an oath when he is delighted, than an Englishman can help grumbling when he is well off. ' Curse your ugly mug ! ' said Terence O'Flanagan to English Bob, whom he met at the corner of Dirty Lane, ' but I 'm glad to see you look so well : 'tis long since we met, and I haven't a rap to jingle upon a tomb-stone ; sure we can't part without a drop, 'tis so d d unlucky.' Terry after a little consideration slapped his canister, crying, ' I 've got it here ! wait a minute and I '11 be wid you in a kick ! ' Bob had not long to stand before Terry with joy beaming from under his ragged red pole, returned and dragged him into a punch house ; here over ' sweet pea,' they talked old adventures o'er and o'er, till the two-and-nine penny piece was melted down their throttles. ' I suppose, Terry, you went to raise the wind when you left me standing sentry at the corner?' 'You may say that with your ugly mouth, for by Saint Patrick ! I pawn'd my breeches and shirt to raise the drop.' It was an absolute fact ; he threw back his reagan (great coat) and appeared a perfect sans culotte. Bob was shocked at this naked proof of real friendship, but Terence enjoyed it heartily, and at parting said, ' Bad luck to the fellow that wouldn't part with his hide if he could sarve an ould friend in need ; my reagan 's a fine cross buttocker, nobody knows what 's within ; three trips from the Coal Quay to the Bloody Bridge and then I '11 be rigged again ; in the mean time you go to hell till we meet again.' Some may think it strange that a man should strip 32 LIFE IN IRELAND himself naked to serve another, and after having done so to wish him with the black gentleman ; it is the w^ay of an Irishman, he always conveys his blessing in the form of a curse, and the harder it is the more he loves you. These digressions serve to shew that there was nothing singular in Sir Shawn O'Dogherty's mode of saluting his friend. I repeat it, an Irishman has ways and means of his own which -it is my business to paint from the life, and having done that, he will still be like 'the peace of God' — past all understanding. CAPTAIN GRAMMACHREE'S DITTY Tune — ' O Ireland ! dear country.' Along side of a hedge by the bridge of Drumcondra, Poor Murdoch O'Monoghan sat down to beg ; He brought from the wars, in reward of his bravery, A crack in his crown and the loss of a leg. \Vith shillelagh in hand and shillelagh on foot, From London to Dublin he had travelled o'er. Contented he was, aye, and happy to boot. For he still made a shift to get whiskey galore. The heart of old Murdoch was soft as a cabbage. Like a Galway potatoe, his skin was as tough ; No longer he slumber'd at ease with the baggage, But took up his quarters each night in the sheugh. ' Arrah ! spare an old soldier the price of a penny ! ' The devil a cross did he ever ask more, And the day never past but he pick'd up so many, That at night he made shift to get whiskey galore. I 've an eye, he would say, on the field of Vittoria, Looking out for the foe, if they come back to Spain ;; My leg is at Waterloo rotting in glory, 'Twill never conduct me to glory again ; LIFE IN IRELAND 33 A piece of my sconce was at Leipsic blown up, And went off with the bridge in a terrible roar, I was fairly knocked down but not fairly knock' d up. For still I exist to drink whiskey galore. 0 Ireland ! dear country ! congenial for begging, How gladly I look on thy green hills again ; My dear native mud I at ease stick my peg in, Nor painfully stump it through Gallia and Spain ; With a can of sweet butter-milk fresh in the morning, And at dinner sweet murphys boil'd up by the score, 1 live like a fighting cock, dunghill birds scorning. And at supper I revel in whiskey galore. Long life to the land where the malt is a making, Oh, blest be the turf a potatoe root yields ; May Heaven throw plenty, and not be mistaken, To flourish luxurious in Paddy's own fields ; May every old woman enjoy her dudine. As her fathers and mothers have all done before, And a hedge ne'er be wanting old Murdoch to screen. When he sits in the sheugh and drinks whiskey galore. So sang honest Murdoch, the gallant brave soldier, Whose spirit in beggary all must admire, More cheerful he grew as each day he grew older, Age lighted his taper at youth's blazing fire. * Success,' he would cry, ' to the bridge of Drumcondra, * Where sentry I '\\ stand till life's campaign is o'er,' Then raising his canteen towards his old rum jaw. He "d drink the King's health in good whiskey galore. With the preceding ditty Captain Grammachree amused himself, while Brian and his friend retired to arrange matters for his first dash into LIFE IN DUBLIN ! END OF CHAPTER III. 34 LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER IV Trip to the Black Rock — Description— Comparison— Thunder and lightning— Picturesque view— BOURKE FiTZSlMON's cottage — Lord Donoughmore's poor relations — The Bay of Dublin — Ireland's Eye— Lambay— Hill of Howth— Crowning the King of Dalkey— Drowning certain characters — Battle of the cats- Tabbies and Blues— A patent risk machine— A steam-boat — Lady Demiquaver introduced — Her influence in the world of Fashion — Bedershin — Wine and merriment — Song, ' Black Rock, or Wigs on the Green '—Cellar-boy's retort— Sir Shawn O'Dogherty and Grammachree mount a Jingle— Pick up Poll Rattlewell— Confab— The Lord Lieutenant's dog- stealer— Description of a Jingle— Bagot Street nuisances— A sleepy driver — A blind horse and an upset on a bridge — Perilous situation of Grammachree, Brian, and Poll— An exulting cheer from SiR Shawn— A soft fall— A happy release from Low I>ife in Dublin. THERE was something in this whiskey-drinking ditty that so much resembled Grammachree's own story, that he always resorted to it for consolation when in distress, and when in a happy vein he always trolled it with unspeakable vivacity. Brian and his friend Shawn (for the sake of brevity we shall call him so in future, having a precedent for doing so in Buck Waley's footman, who said, ' My raal name is Teague, your honour, but they call me Teague Rague for short- ness,') determined, the day being far spent and a LIFE IN IRELAND 35 Sunday too, that they would view the beauties of the Black Rock, and a beautiful place it is ; so say hundreds that have never seen it. Sir Shawn had the privilege of the entree at Dublin Castle, and moreover the friend- ship of the Viceroy, of which he was justly proud. Sir Shawn wisely considered that his friend required a good deal of breaking in before he would be tractable enough to run in the gilt harness of a Castle equipage ; he therefore determined to put him in training; accordingly commencing with the lowest fashionable scenes, and gradually ascending as his charge improved. The Black Rock ! Who does not know the Black Rock that has ever been in Dublin ? All the world goes there on a Sunday to see the other half of it. As the party set out on horseback. Captain Grammachree took a post-chaise, and appointed to meet them at Sea- point House, a celebrated place of entertainment. The scenery was new to Brian and it delighted him ; the numerous vehicles that crowded the road, and the happy pedestrians gave a lively interest to a scene not to be equalled in the environs of any other city in the three kingdoms. Frequently our adventurers were obliged to turn their nags over a five foot wall, or a quickset hedge, to get on without riding over the foot passengers. Brian on these occasions was noticed for the masterly way in which he managed his steed, but Sir Shawn bore off the palm of elegance. ' Arrah !' said a vender of saffron-cakes, 'they are a nate pair of jockeys; one sits as easy on his beast as a butterfly on a rose bush in a gale, and t'other sticks as tight to him as a pair of saddle bags.' Our heroes alighted at the door of 36 LIFE IN IRELAND Sea-point House, and after a hasty refreshment, joined by Captain Grammachree, took the field. ' You will now,' said Sir Shawn, 'see a little of Life in Dublin.' * Blood and turf ! ' exclaimed Grammachree, ' how can that be when we are three miles out of it ? ' ' No matter,' said Brian, 'a mile in my country is as far as you can see from the top of a hill, and as long as the city is in sight, I maintain we are in it.' On every side of the path now could be seen parties having their dejeiifies on the grass, buxom girls, rosy- cheeked children, all neatly clad, jolly looking fellows in emerald green coats, dashing belles dind petit ma'itres were mingled together en masse^ and perfectly sociable ; the smoke of pipes scented the air, and the smell of whiskey qualified its somnorific powers. The tavern doors were thronged with visitors, who en passant peeped into the arbours and paid a tribute to the excise in a roller of thunder attd lightning, alias shrub and w^hiskey, with a Sally Lun in it — {^Sally Luns are a peculiar cake, so called from the inventor, now defunct). The trees waved their green heads in the gale, the cowslip, primrose, and daisy embroidered the carpet of nature, every breeze wafted health, and every little valley breathed perfume. Our party sat down on a grassy eminence before the cottage of John Bourke Fitzsimon ; everybody that knows Lord Donoughmore knows him, — the proprietor of the Hibernian Journal, and once an exciseman. Apropos of John ; he was one of a thousand poor relations to his Lordship, who having got rich by jockeyship both on and off horse- back, he made a song called ' The last Rose of Summer' ; it bloomed, faded, and died ; so has John's political LIFE IN IRELAND 37 life, but he still finds stuff to keep the pot boiling, and potatoes to fill it with. I 've been to see such a one, What ! General Hutchinson ? Did you never see him before? Yes ; and Judy Maclarty, So stupid and dirty, And young gossoons, perhaps half a score. All helping their mother Without any bother To wash the potatoes behind the door. Being all poor relations of my Lord Donoughmore. This humble ditty is more valued in Ireland for its truth than its poetry. It shews the genius of the natives : if there 's a hole in your coat they are sure to find it out, so you had better whip in a stitch before you venture amongst them. The extensive prospect before our heroes was de- scribed by Grammachree with blundering eloquence and enthusiasm. ' The bog that you see, Master Brian, is Dublin Bay, the model which Nature took the Bay of Naples from ; that 's the Hill of Howth, belonging to a poor Lord, a relation to a rich one under Govern- ment : the rock you see standing like an egg in a bason of salt, is called Ireland's Eye^ because you see it has gone out from the shore to view what is going on abroad, and has turned the blind side to its mother- country. There's a new harbour in a hole of the hill; it is to have tiventy-five feet water in it at low water, but it has cost thrice twenty thousand pounds ; and now it is low water in the pocket, so it is in the sea, for the devil a drop comes into the Pier deep enough 38 LIFE IN IRELAND to float a Baldriggan wherry or a Cork hooker ; but it 's all for the good of trade. ' There 's Lambay, and the Devil's own bay it is ; the sweetest place that ever was seen for shooting puffings, and breaking your neck off the rocks by way of finishing a day's gayling. There's Dalkey too : Och ! and wasn't I there last installation day of the knights, and the coronation takes place in a month. The King of the Dublin beggars is always crowned King of Dalkey; 'tis an ould custom. A glorious procession on water takes place ; all the beggars, black- guards, and gentlemen in and out Dublin attend ; and to see the fun of dancing, boxing, tripping, and drown- ing of the mob, och ! it would do your heart good, and make you cry with laughing. No less than three brogue makers, two journeymen butchers, a stock-broker, a justice of the peace, and a watchman, were all swallowed up by the tide of Dalkey last coronation day. You shall go, Master Brian, and have a share in the rigdum when it begins. By the piper that plays before Moses, I had nearly forgot ! We had such a prime battle between two cats ! Your English bull-dogs are no more to be compared to your Irish cats than Gregor MacGregor to the Duke of Wellington ; the one was a tabby and the other a blue. Sim Ellis owned the blue — Sim that was hanged for making a mistake in his name on a piece of stamped paper; and Barney Steele owned the tabby ; everybody knows Barney, he killed himself by drinking whiskey hot from the still, but that was no one's business but his own ; this is a land of liberty, and any man has a right to live or die in any way he likes best. Well, to it the poppets went ; LIFE IN IRELAND 39 Birne was there, and Whaley, and Blake, and myself to be sure. First, the tabby had the blue down, then the blue had the tabby down, and at last the fight became so furious they were up and down one after another both at the same time. There was hundreds betted, but not a cross won or lost ; for by Jasus ! they left nothing on the ground but a bunch of hair and two tails ! ' ' What ! ' said Brian, ' then I suppose the cats ran away ? ' ' An Irish cat run away ! ' sneered Grammachree, ' no ; never ! by the powers of Moll Kelly ! they eat one another up ! ' 'That little ship,' said the Captain, 'is an Irish invention worthy of immortality ; 'twas meant, by the help of two big wheels, to clear the bar of the harbour ; and so it does, for what mud it lifts up on one side, it throws down on the other, so only half a ship can go into the Liffey at a time. And there's the Eiren go Bragh steam-boat, has only been five months in play, and blown up no more than twice; that's no wonder, for as she always is after the sailing packet, she gets all the drunken passengers left behind. Barring accidents from fire, water, and long delay, she's a mighty pleasant vessel to walk across Channel in.' Much more the Captain would have said, but his narrative was inter- rupted by a dashing belle. Lady Demiquaver ; she too Avas enjoying Life in Dublin, and rusticating for awhile at Black Rock. 'And is it you, my dear Sir Shawn ! and an't I mighty glad to see you any where and how \ and you, old Timber Toe ; and you, a friend I suppose — a shamrock newly plucked, hasn't lost the down of his leaf yet.' 'Brian Boru, Esq., from Con- naught, a man of five thousand per annum, and a good 40 LIFE IN IRELAND quality for every pound he possesses,' said Sir Shawn. Brian would have risen to make a bow, but Lady Demiquaver, with true Irish frankness, sat down betwixt them and commenced a rally in that style which only those who have seen Life in Ireland can do justice to ; Brian Blush'd and look'd and blush'd and look'd And look'd again. Lady Demiquaver had numbered forty-five, was fat, fair, lively, elegant, and expressive ; she had long led the van of female fashionables, and still continued to be a star of the first magnitude in a hemisphere where a constellation was visible every day and night. She introduced more beauty to the Castle than any one of her rank in Dublin ; she governed the judges out of the four courts, the barristers when out of their gowns and ^vigs, the collegians when out of alma mater ^ the com- missioners when out of commission, Generals when out of command, players when out of an engagement, and, in short, shook the poppy seed over the heads of all the fashionable world. Sir Shawn recommended Brian to her tutorage, and she undertook the task, remarking, that every grass widow loved to model to her taste a hay or straw batchelor. Her Ladyship patronised a concert at the Rotunda on the following evening, and our heroes promised to appear in her train. As our party had not yet taken the dew off their stomachs, Lady D. ordered a cold collation from her jaunting car, and a happier set never enjoyed a meal under the shade of Wicklow mountains. LIFE IN IRELAND 41 Her Ladyship bade adieu with vivacity, and curtsey- ing to Brian with an air none but herself could assume, said, ' Remember your engagement to-morrow evening, and I '11 make you remember me.' ' Bedershin ! ' {inay be so), said the abashed Brian. ' Why, Brian, you 're quite struck; a cock looking at chalk; it's all up with you — bottom up, like Lord Clare in the fish pond ! ' laughed Sir Shawn. ' Bedershin ! ' sighed Brian. ' By Jasus!' stammered Grammachree, 'he's withered like a potatoe top in a sunny day, and looks as green upon it as a dish of Calecannon made of frosty cabbage.' ' Bedershin ! ' returned Brian, leaning with his hands on his knees supporting his chin, and musing of ' Unutterable things.' 'We'll have some sport,' said Sir Shawn. 'With all my heart ! ' said Grammachree. ' Bedershin ! ' groaned Brian. The Captain beckoned a breechless spalpeen, who flew to Jones's and returned with a cooper of crusty ^ which soon restored Brian to his senses ; ' The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.' The joke, and even the song went round ; and as evening closed, every party struck up a simultaneous stanza, and Captain Grammachree exerted his lungs as follows : — SONG BLACK ROCK, or WIGS ON THE GREEN Who has e'er been at Dublin must sure know the place, The seat of all elegance, beauty, and grace ; Where drinking and dancing and friendship are seen To end in a battle, and wigs on the green. 42 LIFE IN IRELAND 'Tis at ihe Black Rock, where all parties combine To tipple the whiskey or generous wine Through the day, and as night settles dark on the scene, Mirth ends with shillelagh, and wigs on the green. The Judge and the jury together are met. And the Bench and the Box are Hail Paddy, well met ! Bereft of all state, Laiv's dictators are seen To join laivless sport without wigs on the green. Good Lord ! how delightful the racket and noise Kick'd up in a shindy by Liberty Boys, And the lads of the Coal Quay in contact are seen To knock liberty down, and lay wigs on the green. Here the buck of the Castle casts off all his frowns, And stops as he comes from the Glen of the Downs, Dispenses at once with his aspect serene, When obliged to be off — from his wig on the green. May the Sons of Hibernia, who hither resort, Find pleasure more pure than that in a court, And when age keeps their trotters behind the fire-screen, May they bless the Black Rock and its wigs on the green. ' I say, Mr. Shake-in-the-wind ! ' roared Grammachree to a running footman, ' this wine is no better than blackberry juice, or Spanish liquorice sweetened with mustard.' 'Arrah, your soul to the Devil!' retorted the spalpeen, vexed to hear the honour of his master's cellar impeached, ' you 've lost the palate of your jowl ; my master kapes the best materials for making port wine, than any manufacturer of black drop in Dublin.' This was a settler; it was no use contradicting one whom you could not convince, and as the black drop had penetrated the upper story of all the three, argu- ment was out of the question, and assertion neither of our heroes approved of. LIFE IN IRELAND 43 Night had now spread her ebon wings over dear Dublin, and a beautiful moon made every thing clear as day. It was settled not to leave the Captain to iravegeer alone, and the horses were ordered to go empty to Merion Square. ' Will you take my horse to Dublin?' asked Sir Shawn of a rap in the employ of the police. 'Will he take me to Dublin, your honour? for by reason I won't lead when I can drive, or walk when I can ride,' was the reply ; 'twas sufficient. Some deliberation took place whether a noddy or a jingle should be employed, which was soon settled by a lieurenant of the horse police, who ordered the party either to get into a jingle then in the way, or get out of the way themselves ; the latter they could not well do without passing under the wheels of a certain vehicle called * level ways,' an operation supposed to be un- pleasant as most people die under the experiment. ' Needs must when the Devil drives ! ' said Sir Shawn. ' Bedershin ! ' grumbled Brian. ' Mighty well ! ' echoed the Captain, and up the iron fender they blundered, and were soon fixed in the hog-tub. ' Won't you give me a drag^ Dogherty?' cried a fine girl in a riding habit ; ' Sally is off, and left me to pad on my ten sera f Cher s ! ' ' If I don't I '11 be d d ! ' was followed by a spring from the crazy vehicle, which Sir Shawn ascended with Poll Kettlewell in his arms. 'Shall I dal?^ your honour?' asked the driver, and laid a stick as long and as strong as half a flail over the flank of an old bay garren, a perfect Rosinante, and away he hobbled betwixt a trot and a walk, like Jemmy O'Brian going to the gallows. ' How did you come here, Poll ? ' was the natural 44 LIFE IN IRELAND enquiry of her friend. 'Sure I didn't come at all; I was brought by Sally to catch a Dublin Bay herring, a soft-roed fellow, but fat. It wouldn't fit; she grew sulky and quit whilst I was settling a small score with P^tzpatrick the dog-stealer to the Lord Lieutenant.' 'What do you mean, Poll?' 'Mean! why hasn't he got a commission to shoot all the dogs likely to go mad in Dublin? I wonder you've escaped so long.' Brian by this time began to feel a little uneasy ; he had never been in such a thundering machine before ; full ten feet from the ground, supported by iron bars instead of springs, hard boards to sit upon, and a bit of sharp Irish oak to lean your back against, and curry- comb you at every jolt. Bagot Street is so well paved, that it has been regularly indicted for a nuisance seventeen sessions following, but no good has been got by it; half the parish have indicted their wives as a nuisance, and solicited to have them removed as rubbish, but they continue to rub on with them, the law having pro- nounced them above their cognizance. Entering on the stoney part, Brian swore he'd alight before his entrails were turned topsy turvy. The whole party laughed, and Poll swore none but a griffin would have the bad manners to complain of a jingle from the Black Rock. So eager were the party in conversation they never perceived that the garren followed his nose, his eyes he could not, for he was stone blind every Monday morning he got up. In truth, Tim Slaney was enjoying a sound nap when whack went the jingle up against the middle man {post) of Low Ground Bridge ; over it went full tilt ; Poll caught Brian round 1 I I I I I I I i I LIFE IN IRELAND 45 the neck, and both went over the battlements head fore- most into the water ; Captain Grammachree's wooden leg got betwixt the wheel and the wall ; the wood was tough, so it only half cracked through, and left him suspended with his head downwards ; Tim was pre- cipitated upon the horse's neck, and Sir Shawn O'DoGHERTY, more nimble than the rest, jumped upon the broadside of the jingle, waving his hat and singing Hey down, ho down, derry, derry down, To fill up this farcical scene, O ! Tim, who was accustomed to these disasters, slid down from the horse's neck, and taking from under his reagan a lamppey {knife) proceeded to release the Captain by cutting his leg in tw^o and letting him tumble 'down, down, dow^n derry down ' ; luckily he fell upon a name- less part belonging to Poll Kettlewell, and so saved his neck. The moon shone full upon the sufferers, and sights were seen that shun the face of day. Sir Shawn having enjoyed his laugh descended to the ditch, and with affected politeness assisted in extri- cating the tumblers from their awkward quarters. Poll complained of her r p, and swore she would doctor the captain out of half of his half-pay, who execrated Tim for amputating his leg ; Brian only groaned, and Sir Shawn congratulated him upon the honour he would acquire by entering in such a headlong manner upon LOW LIFE IN DUBLIN ! END OF CHAPTER IV. 46 LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER V A release from a tumble— Ups and downs of a girl of the town —Growlers in grain— Jingling wit— A carriage harnessed by the belts of a wooden leg— Scene at Sally M' Lean's, the Abbess of Stafford Street— List of beauties— Natural question by old maids —A grand row in Dame Street with watchmen, police, soldiers, chimney-sweepers, and Major Sirr— Encounter with a second- hand reading corporal— Safe at home— Brian Boru's Muse on fire again— Song, ' Dublin Nuisances, or Down with the Watch- men. ' THE ups and downs in this life,' said Poll Kettle- well, ' which I am in the habit of experiencing, are so strange and numerous, that I really don't think I could manage to exist without them; to be sure I don't often go up as high as a jingle, or fall so low as the foundation of a bridge, with a wooden-legged blood-hound commencing an attack upon my postern so furiously ; but by the piper that played before Moses ! I '11 have an action of assault and battery against him if Macanally's in Dublin, ox slap bang to be bought in Stafford Street.' 'It would only be a just return, my dear,' replied Sir Shawn, 'for his entering an action in /a// without giving due notice.' By the help of Pat Slaney and Brl\n, who enjoyed the joke. Captain Grammachree was conveyed up the hill, and placed in the crazy vehicle, from which he had so rapidly descended, and Poll Kettlewell con- LIFE IN IRELAND 47 descended to face him again. The harness of a jingle is easily put out of order, and as quickly repaired ; leather and buckles being very scarce materials in its composition. Some pieces of old rope knotted to- gether, and often twisted haybands served to support the shafts by day, and be a supper for the animal at night ; the reins are sometimes of leather, when chance has thrown an old boot in Jehu's way, which cut into slips and stitched by the help of a fork and twine, end for end, makes a grand set out. Slaney in refitting found himself short of fastenings ; the knee-bands of his breeches, which were of no use, as he never tied them, having no stockings to encumber his legs, he converted into a back-band, but still in want of a string to splice his reins, he made a leg to Grammachree, and after scratching his head, muttered, ' Maybe your honour would give us the loan of your wooden-leg garter, as it can't be of any use hanging to your body.' In this Grammachree acquiesced, and unbuckling his stump handed the straps to Slaney, who soon set off again in grand style, amidst the laughter of an assembled crowd, who had witnessed the upset with infinite satisfaction. These things are so common, that they astonish no one ; a broken limb or a collection of bruises are looked for as essentials to complete a holiday party, and cause them to separate in good humour. Grammachree ordered Slaney to hasten on through Bagot Street ; he detested it because it was full of lawyers, by whom he was cheated out of the fortune that his father forgot to leave him. Determined to end the night as they had begun the 48 LIFE IN IRELAND day, in sociability, the whole party proceeded to Sally M'Lean's, the Lady Abbess of Stafford Street. Sir Shawn had two objects in view, his own whim to gratify, and the humane one of saving Miss Kettlewell from getting into a pretty kettle of fish with her em- ployer, who would be sure to send her supperless to roost if she went home without a gulpin and a dirty wardrobe to boot. A word or two of poor Sally and her establishment for the benefit of mankind ; she is now under the sod, but the good she did, is not, like Caesar's, ' Buried with his bones ' ; many a bloody and many a blowen remember her w^ith gratitude. Dublin could have spared a better woman ; Tom Byrne wrote an ode to her memory, w^hich every cherubim in Anglesea Street chaunted as a response to her departed soul. Sally never had less than a round dozen of beauties under her tuition ; in truth, if they were not first-rate beauties they would not do, for Sally dealt only with first-rate customers. Like her predecessor Peg Plunket, whom the Lord Lieutenant patronized for her many useful qualities, she never inveigled the innocent into her snares, and in many instances rescued the unwary from destruction, and sent them home to their friends, pure and unsullied. Sal was very liberal to her friends, and would make little of spending ten pounds on a supper to w^elcome an old cock back to the hen-roost. Sally had prepared a sound lecture for her lost mutton, but the sight of Sir Shawn O'Dogherty at once disarmed her rage ; she assumed a Jesuitical smile, LIFE IN IRELAND 49 and welcomed the Baronet and his friends with an air of modesty which the Devil can assume to suit his purposes. Sal could not help glancing a suspicious eye over Poll ; the wet and dirty state of her garments made her suspect she had been indulging \i^x penchant for low company, and trembled for her valuables ; however, she twigged the tatler in her bosom and was satisfied. Brian Boru did not like this visit to a house of ill-fame; some country scruples still hung about his conscience, and he had not yet forgot the lessons his mother gave. A few bumpers of sparkling champaigne drove all his modesty to the back door, and the entrance of Sal's aviary of game made his eyes sparkle with glee; they had just risen, hastily slipped on their knocking-jackets, tied round the waist with a blue ribbon, on which was inscribed in gold letters the family motto : ' To wake the soul by gentle strokes of art. ' Sir Shawn recognized some new faces, and Gramma- chree knew them all : there was Judy from Ballyshannon — Tiny from Ballinderry — Lezzy from Ballin O'Muck — Sukey from Ballindoyle — Peg Trimbush from Ball- ingahinch — Kate Karney from Ballyhock — Fanny Tumbleup from Ballyshag — and all the Ballys in Ireland had furnished a copy from human nature to oblige Sally M'Lean. Mirth and fun was the order of the night; Sir Shawn ' and Brian danced till they were tired, and Mucalroy the Irish piper swore he could play no longer, and his bags were dry, though they had been wetted every half tune. Grammachree beat time with his one leg, and D 50 LIFE IN IRELAND made as much noise as the best. It was not the inten- tion of our heroes to accept of bed and board, though another bottle would have pinned them to the tail of a duckling till morning. A ten pound note contented Sally, and a good supper pleased the wenches ; Sir Shawn O'Dogherty made Poll Kettlewell a handsome present, in order to appease Sal when he was gone. Sal offered her chariot with the bays and greys, but it was declined, and a chair having been provided for the Captain, out they sallied, singing Right leg, left leg, upper leg, under leg, Patrick's Day in the morning. A more good-humoured fellow in his cups did not exist than Sir Shawn, nor a more mischievous one. The Devil does not hate holy-water more than a Dublin boy does a watchman, and some obstruction our hero had met with from these disturbers of the peace, rankled in his mind, and always came uppermost when he was mellow. In making way down Dame Street with distended lungs, that made many an old maid pop her head out of the window, and enquire ' If the rebels were up, and ravishment going to begin,' an unfortunate Charley blundered out of Trinity Lane, and trod on the toes of Sir Shawn O'Dogherty. With one blow of his fist he levelled him on the pavement, and with one kick of his foot sent his lanthorn across the street into a pane of the Commercial Building's window on the first floor. The rattles sounded left and right, like a storm of play- house hail, and the gf-eat-coatcd boobies came pouring down to the charge like pigs in a gale of wind. Our ^^ ^ 4 1 ^ LIFE IN IRELAND 51 heroes scorned to fly. ' By Jasus ! ' said Sir Shawn, ' if ever I run from a watchman may I be piked with a pitchfork for a rebel!' — 'And if I do,' said Brian, 'may the Devil run a hunting with my soul! ' — To it they went ; ' Lather away wid your oak stick ! ' was the cry ; and in five minutes the guardians of Suffolk-street, Crow-street, and Parliament-street were thrown off their guard OTi the flass, with black eyes and broken heads. Lanthorns rung in the air like shells in an engagement ; and one, propelled by the sinewy hoof of Brian Boru, fell right upon the Lundy-taker of Serjeant Mulrany, who was hastening to the scene of action with a file of police ruffians. ' Och, by my soul ! ' cried the Serjeant, ' 'tis only the watchmen getting kilt by the College boys; sweet bad luck to them, and all that take their part, dead or alive ! ' when picking up the lanthorn, and rubbing his nose, he marched off, d ng ' the lazy leather-eared thieves, and those that appointed 'em.' The battle, though very unequal, was most manfully contested, w^hen a blow from the stick of a huge over- grown Castle-fed watchman laid Brian Boru on his all-fours. The chairman who carried Capt. Gramma- chree bawl'd out, ' Fair play, my honeys ! let him up.' — ' Let him up ! ' bellowed Guardy ; ' by Jasus, if you had as much trouble to get him dowai as I have, you woulden't be in a hurry to let him rise again.' — 'Och, and if that be the go,' said the chairman, 'here's at you ! it never shall be said we stood by to see a man foul used, and not to try to I'escuate him.' Out came the poles, and descended upon the Charleys, like Oscar with his iron flail thrashing the spirits of the clounds. They fell on every side j and Brian, once more upon 52 LIFE IN IRELAND his pins, paid the reckoning for his fall in noble style. Grammachree, unable to move for want of his timber toe, shoved off the chair top, and elevating his hat upon his cane, halloo'd ' Cut away for life and death in Dublin ! and hll the gutters for dogs, cats, and sausage-makers to-morrow morning.' At this moment who should arrive to witness the fray but old Ned Mulrony the chimney-sweep. Sir Shawn made a dash at his three-tier wig, and just as Thorn Shederrick ran at him with open jaws, bawling ' Pace ! in the King's name ! ' rammed it bang into his mouth, and down his throat for aught I know to the contrary, and at the same time he tipped him a left- handed clink on the mazza?'d, which put his pimple in chancery, making the whites of his blifikers turn up, like a fool in want of a friend's advice. This and the appearance of Town-Major Sirr with the Castle guard, put an end to the row. The Major took the honour of our heroes for their appearance next morning before the Lord Mayor, and Brian, who had lost the skirts of his coat, threw the Sweep's chimney- cloth over his shoulder, and both staggered off bare- headed, leaving Grammachree to find his way home with the chairmen, who trotted off with him the instant they beheld Major Sirr; 'for, bad luck to him!' said they, ' dident he shoot Fitzgerald that was a Lord, and won't he shoot us two-legged poneys in a pig's ivhisper vfidoni SiXiy remorse/illness}' Those who have been in Dublin when the nation was up, knew that after nine at night no one could tramp the streets without a pass, wanting which you stood a prime chance of having a soldier's h^yon^i passed through your potatoe bag. This LIFE IN IRELAND 53 had been a matter of consideration before our party left Sally M 'Lean's, and fortunately the Captain had been served with the copy of a writ, some days before, which he handed to Brian Boru, remarking, 'A soldier has no business to read or even open his mouth, except to answer his name and bite off the end of his cartridge, and a policeman don't know A from Z, or the Lord God from Tom Bell ; so shew 'em this and swear 'tis a pass from the Castle.' In Dawson-street our motley pair were hailed with 'Halt ! who comes there? you think I can't see you in the dark ! ' ' Friend to the guard, And liegeman to the Dane.' ' The Devil d n you ! ' said Corporal Kilkenny, 'but on my conscience you look like a pair of Dirty Lane croppies, ready to rob a whipping-post for the hide and tallow ! ' ' Devil whip your soul out ! ' said Brian ; ' save and except chafetng the revenue by brew- ing a drop of comfort, I 'm as loyal as yourself, and paid for the coat on my back, that's more than you did, wid your lobster back and verdigrease belly.' ' Bad fortune to him that would give a crawley for such a blackguard's coat ! ' retorted the corporal, eyeing the chimney-sweep's cloth which Brian had forgotten hung in tatters from his shoulders. Brian produced the writ as a Castle passport, which the Corporal tried vainly to read by the light of Inspector Lee's three gas lights before his little house wid only one parlour window. No wonder the Corporal could not make it out ; he was taught to read seco7id hand, like a husband's childer by the first wife, or a Lord of the Admiralty. 54 LIFE IN IRELAND 'Arrah, man!' said Brian, 'can't you see the name of Hardwicke and Wickham there in the corner ? ' ' Bad manners to your impudence ! do you think I can't read because I loves to take time upon my duty ? sure and I 've seen the name of Vice-boy Hardwig and Secretary Wigham as often as . Here, a file of you see these J()?tfkmefi safe home, and if they be after giving you a few ten pennies I '11 have you tried for taking bribes if you don't bring them to Corporal Kilkenny for his opinion on the same ; you always have that for nothing, which is all the share of any thing you '11 ever get from me.' Brian soon found himself in Morrison's Hotel, and Sir Shawn, after a strict ablution, bundled into bed in Merion Square. Whilst he slept dreaming of the follies of a day, Brian, who possessed a harder head, called for a bowl of punch, pen, ink, and paper, and invoked his Connaught Muse to inspire him with LIFE IN DUBLIN! SONG DUBLIN NUISANCES, or DOWN WITH THE WA TCHMEN Tune—' Our Polly is a sad slut.' Sure Sally is a sad slut, What would the jade be a'ter ? So well she knows the game of put, You 'd think the Devil taught her ; So tight and trim she keeps the girls, So nice and so enticing, That he who looks, or he who sleeps, Sees something — aye, surprising. LIFE IN IRELAND 55 Like Stafford Street there is no place For pleasure in dear Dublin, 'Tis there amongst the babes of grace (Your conscience never troubling) You '11 surely find an empty purse, Likewise an aching head, Sir, And surely you the day will curse You went at night to bed, Sir. The trouble too of creeping home, As if you were an ass. Sir, With hawker's licence meant to roam, Or beggar with a pass. Sir ; By police rogues — by soldiers stopt. Demanding who you are, Sir, Gaz'd at as though a rebel cropt, A lion, or a bear, Sir. Ensnar'd in many awkward toils By those who strive to catch men, When napping and engag'd in broils With thundering lazy watchmen ; Bad luck to all the vill'nous set, They keep the street in riot. But we '11 be down upon 'em yet. And bang them till they 're quiet. They wake you forty times a night With hoarse and hideous squalling. They wake even children in a fright. Like cats a caterwauling. Now in the street, now in the yard, A man can't to a girl go. Without the Watchman's fond regard He 's always on the sly go. If any one 's the watchman's friend, He is the Devil's too, Sir ; I wish the world were at an end. For him to get his due. Sir ; 56 LIFE IN IRELAND As he who stops the honest folks In pleasure's pathway toiling, Deserves to be in iron yokes On hell's gridiron broiling. From Brian Boru counsel take, Altho' he comes from Galway, His med'cine cures the stomach ache, And love pains in a small way ; For if you crack a watchman's scran (And sport it would afford here), The judge would make the brute a man And hang you for his MURDER ! On every side rise, Irishmen ! For one and all you hate them, Like turf spat, count them off by ten, And never over-rate them. * Down, down with watchmen I ' be the cry, Those enemies to joy, Sir, At night then Irish girls may fly To meet their Irish boys, Sir. Brian and his friend both rose with aching heads in the morning, and hastened, as bound in honour, to appear before the Lord Mayor of Dubhn, and answer the charges to be made against them by the Dame- street heroes. It is waste of time to describe the Mayor, or his hall of audience. Which amongst us has not seen an ould spatter-dashed bog-t7'otter counting his pigs on a Saturday night in the gable-end room of his cabin, wid a hole in the top to let in the air and let out the smoke ? I say no more ; comparisons are odious ; I mustn't meedle with big folks ; be it so. None of the watchmen appeared ; tirtee^i were ashamed to say LIFE IN IRELAND 57 they had been beat by two, and Major Sirr's honour forbade him to expose the strength of his loyal gang. Ned Mulraney, the real DubHn chimney-sweep, who cleaned all the dirty holes ten miles round, Ned alone came forward in company with a watchman as an un- willing witness. ' What have you to say, Ned ? ' asked the Lord Mayor. 'Plase your honoured Worship and glory, I accuses that there hungry watchman with ateing my wig, and that iheiQ Jontie?nan wid feeding him upon it.' ' How 's this ? ' echoed old Turtle Soup. ' I thought you watchmen were not quite such hungry dogs as to love dirty pudding ? ' 'By my best Brush,' said Blackee, ' my wig was cleaner than your Lordship's, for it was wanting flour and sweat, but as I won't afford to pay a tax, I won't be let to keep my head in a stink ; I only say that I saw my good wig go down that bad man's ugly mouth, along with that jontUmajis hand, and the devil a string of the good goat's hair did I ever see more; so, plase your honour, the giver or receiver should certainly pay me for my wig and the could I have got, and the rheumatism, and the neck twingers, and the sea voyage I have had across the Custom House ferry to come here, for what 's neither here nor there, I mean Justice.' The watchman acknowledged swallowing his own front teeth, but swore he had disgorged the wig as good as new in the gutter. Sir Shawn settled the matter by a few pounds ; the watchman wished he had a set of bones to dispose of every night at the same price, and Blackee said he could buy twenty such wigs for the price of a glass of whiskey and a promise any day at the door of the Four Courts, Marshalsea. 58 LIFE IN IRELAND Sir Shawn O'Dogherty and Brian Boru, Esq., then retired, heartily laughing at last night's frolic; not determined to be more circumspect in future, but resolved upon the next attack to be better prepared both with weapons and with friends; 'for,' said Sir Shawn, *I had nothing in my hand but my stick, which was under my arm.' 'And I,' said Brian Boru, 'had nothing in my hand but my fist, which was the only thing that encumbered my movements.' END OF CHAPTER V. LIFE IN IRELAND 59 CHAPTER VI Morning — Sir Shawn roused by Grammachree singing ' Paddy, now the King's come ! ' — Sir Shawn's yacht — A fresh breeze in Pool Bag — A blunder between two bulls — A Danish broker broke down in the Bay of Dublin — Custom House yacht — Cork hooker — Landing on the Pier — Royal squad — Landing of the King — Glorious reception — Pat's welcome to King George. '^r^HE morning sun rose in unusual splendour over X the mountains of Wicklow ; it shone upon Counsellor Colback's airy cottage, and made it appear as white as a mushroom upon a large dunghill. The Hill of Howth was skirted by his rays in the same manner that Jupiter threw his garment over Leda, and appeared at a distance like a half-burnt cinder, from which ascended smoke in profusion. The valleys and slopes fencing the barriers of Dun- drum, and old Gifford's country seat, were clad in emerald green, and the rays of the sun squinting upon them, made the whole look as spangles upon a Spanish cloak, or dewdrops upon a thistle or a soiled shamrock. The Harbour of Howth was as open as the Bay of Dublin, and as empty as a member mug wiien it is half full of slops. Why should it not? Every boat, barge, and w^herry had been disgorged from it at full tide to make room for — who ? Why, who the Devil do you 6o LIFE IN IRELAND think ? It wasn't for you, nor me, for the Viceroy or Kilmainham gaoler, or Major Sirr, or the finisher of the law in Green Street, or any other great man in Dublin ; but it was for the King ! Aye, blood and turf! for the King himself! the King of Ireland! ' Long looked for come at last ! ' bellowed Captain Grammachree, as he rushed into Sir Shawn O'Dog- herty's bedroom, and continued dancing up and down like the fellow in London Streets, who walks a hornpipe in a wooden platter upon his timber toe. 'What is the meaning of this intrusion so early?' exclaimed Sir Shawn, as he rubbed his eyes and scratched his nightcap. ' Paddy, now the King 's come ! Paddy, now the King 's come ! Every one shall dance and sing, Paddy, now the King's come ! ' This was the only intelligible answer to be extracted from Grammachree for some minutes, when he pro- ceeded to state that the royal yachts were in the Bay of Dublin, and every preparation made for the King to land at Dunleary. ' By the holy poker, which never stirred an infidel fire ! ' said the Captain, ' 'tis true. I boarded Major Sirr about an hour ago, going on horse- back in a curricle and pair to clear the way, and make a fair road upon the zvater for His Majesty's landing. All Dublin has gone off to the Black Rock, and there is not a living soul in the town but a parcel of dead pigs run over by the jingles and jaunting cars thunder- ing down Bagot Street. Every thing that will swim has left the Liffey bang-up full of company to see the LIFE IN IRELAND 6i sight. May I never blink upon a scrag of mutton, dead or alive, if I did not see a cleboy in a butcher's tray, with two beef bones for sculls, rowing down to the Lighthouse, and a poulterer's bantum-cock in a wicker basket, with a goose wing spread for a sail, steering after him. By my conscience, if you don't rise and get your yacht under way, the way will be stopped entirely ; for the vessels are stuck together so thick and so close in the Bay, there aren't room for a fellow to fall over and be drowned comfortably like a gentleman.' Up sprung the Baronet ; he was, it is true, a raal Irishman, but loyal to the backbone ; he had the mis- fortune, like many others, to have some of his relations hung up amidst wind and weather during the rebellion, but that is so common a thing, that it is never reflected upon ; true it is that in genteel Dublin company, no one will be so rude as to mention a halter; the cap would fit so many, that they would be sure to quarrel for it. Sir Shawn was truly loyal, and he looked upon the dissensions amongst his countrymen as arising more from religious animosities, than any defect in the government or antipathy to the ruling powers; he made proper allowances for the whiskeyfied temper of honest Pat, and was willing to believe that all his errors were those of the head and not of the heart ; and as he was a good subject himself, he inclined to believe all around him were the same ; he had nothing to hope for or wish from Government ; his fortune was immense, and he would not have exchanged the title of Sir Shawn O'DoGHERTY for Lord of Ireland. ' Gram,' said Sir Shawn, ' stump and call up Brian BoRU — and then be down upon the Quay — order my 62 LIFE IN IRELAND yacht into Pool Bag— tell Connolly to send on board a cold dinner and wines — bring up the boat to Jacob's Hotel — buy me a sky-blue scarf and white ribbons — tell Lady Demiquaver to meet me in one hour — run up to Smithfield, and tell Wilson to send my horses down to Howth, with a man upon each of them to help in adding splendour to the King's landing — then go to Mountjoy Square and say I can't see his Lordship until we meet, as I shall be all day engaged — call into Lundy's for a cannister as you come over Carlisle Bridge — hasten here, by that time I shall be dressed, and then I '11 tell you what else you can do to oblige me.' ' By the powers of Moll Kelly ! ' smiled Gram, ' if I begin at the end I shall be soonest done ; for, by Jasus ! your orders are as long as a messman's bill to a poor Ensign who has run tick for a military quarter of a year ; but here goes to rouse Brian Boru, and you clap your rigging over head as quick as possible.' Brian Boru slept as sound as Oscar of old, who never awoke until he had three or four limestones thrown at his head ; and it was not until Grammachree had hauled him out of bed by the shirt collar, and placed his nether end upon the marble, that he opened his peepers, and growled, 'What the Devil do you want with me, in God's name?' 'To see the King,' said Gram, ' he 's in the bay ; 'tis now nine o'clock, all Dublin has left the City, and so must you, to meet him.' Brian rang his bell for Patrick Mooney, who deliberately staggered upstairs drunk, ' Well, Sir,' said his master, 'who made you a beast?' 'The King, your honour ! the King 's to blame, and poison work thy LIFE IN IRELAND 63 will. All day last night, I 've been drinking his health and success to Paddy's land ; sure if he hadn't come, I hadn't got drunk ; but belave me I 'm sober enough to have cleaned your boots, brushed your coat, black- balled your breeches, and scraped your downhall to the nines.' Brian was never long vexed; he smiled at Mooney, ordered him to bring up a freshener for Gram, and huddled on his clothes with the expedition of a mail- coach guard who has slept ten minutes beyond his time. ' Here,' said Gram, as he lifted the raspberry to his lips, 'is the King's health, and may the God of Ireland bless Ireland's King': 'Amen!' said Brian BoRU, as he pulled on his \^ix.-ha?ided boot. ' You 're selfish in that toast, my friend Gram, you are mighty selfish ; there will be a brevet promotion, and you expect to be raised to the rank of Major — Major Domina over the Devil and his twelve special jurymen that tried Tom Paine ; of whom it might be said — Here lies in earth a root o' hell, Set by the Deil's ain dibble : The worthless body damn'd himsel', To save the Lord the trouble.' To save my reader's patience, a boat was procured at the Coal Quay, and Sir Shawn with his party got upon Howth Pier just at the instant the Lightning Packet ran alongside. ' The immense crowds that are off to Dunleary,' said Sir Shawn, 'are on a wrong scent. I have private information the King is on board Skinner's packet ; and there he comes ! in his blue coat and hairy cap.' ^4 LIFE IN IRELAND The crowds assembled heard this, and rent the air with cheers as His Majesty stepped on shore. Sir Shawn seized one of his extended hands, and Brian the other, and amidst the heartfelt applause of multi- tudes he stepped into his coach and drove away. ' By my soul!' said Brian Boru, 'and I am after pitying all Dublin that is waiting on the Dunleary road for a sight of the King; and how condescending for him to land amongst us, and the devil a soldier to attend him.' 'No,' said Sir Shawn, 'he trusts in the well-known loyalty of Irishmen's hearts. We are the King's friends, and if we do quarrel amongst ourselves, it is not the King's fault, who frequently says of old Ireland, that she is truly noble, "for all her sons are brave, and all her daughters virtuous.'" 'You'll soon be a Major, Gram,' said Brian, 'and drink the King's health in a brevet bumper.' ' Major be crucified, for what I care ! I want no pro- motion ; I have my pension, my half-pay, and my wooden leg to live upon. All the active sQxv'ice I can do my King must be wid my tongue, and by this drop of whiskey that goes over it I swear, it shall wag in his praise till the sense of .fw^///>/a- has quitted my mouth for ever.' 'Well said, my hearty!' returned Brian Boru ; 'I was only in jest. I am well assured you want' no stimulus to make you loyal, nor do you want any pro- motion ; and I '11 tell thee, friend Gram, whilst there is a bit of timber on my estates in Galway, thou shalt never want a wooden leg to support thee upright, or an Irishman's hand with a purse in it to supply thy necessities.' § I 1 ^^ I il4 i • LIFE IN IRELAND 65 'The devil necessitate you! Here he is himself! Och, and by my soul, in the raal rig. Twig the sky- blue scar, see the knot of white ribbon pinned to it by O'Connel, and pledged by Sir Edmund Stanley, as a proof of the union of souls, met to receive Old Ireland's King. Sir Shaw^n, you 're mighty welcome as you 're come, but your absence wou'dn't have offended us. What do you want ? ' ' Want ! you rogues ; your de- lectable company. My yacht is in the Bay, my barge waiting for us at Ringsend, and I am waiting for your company.' Away they ran but soon stopped; 'Call a coach,' said Sir Shawn. ' Coach ! coach ! ' bellowed Gram in true military tone. 'Here's a coach, your honour's worship and glory,' said a ; by the holy Jasus ! I didn't know what to call him, he hadn't a rag on his back, but he was a rag-bunch altogether; he hadn't a foot to his shoe, or a head to his hat. ' Here 's a coach, your Mightiness ! ' ' Why,' said Sir Shawn, ' 'tis only a car.' 'Never mind, your honour, if it is a car, there is no other coach upon the stand ; so needs must when the Devil drives ! ' ' Oh, if you are the Devil, for once I will place myself under your black protection.' In jumped the Baronet, Brian followed and lolled upon the hay like an over-fed beast in a haggart ; Gramma- chree hitched over the side rail, and unscrewing his leg began the tune of ' Paddy Whack ' in fine style. The truth was. Gram loved music, and he had a fife wooden- leg. I am told Lord Fife, of discarded memory, invented the instrument, but no matter; he 'could play any ting on de fife,' and he did it in the present instance. E 66 LIFE IN IRELAND ' Are you all in ? ' said the ugly thief-looking driver, 'are you all in?' 'All here, my hearty, drive along.' ' That I will ; but sure your honour won't hinder a body from arning a tenpenny ; here 's a gemman wants to send his pig to meet the king's arrival; 'tis a talking pig, a walking pig, and a very loyal pig, for he never grunts except he is ordered ; it will sleep between your knees as cool and as quiet as Mrs. W when she ran to the Marquis of A .' 'Admit the pig,' said Sir Shawn, ' drive on ! ' Away they went; Bloody Bridge was soon passed over. Hungry Hill not noticed, the car drove up to Mother Coogan's door at Ringsend, and Miss Pebby appeared at the door to welcome the party. Here old Evans shewed his well painted face, and demanded to stand pilot for Sir Shawn O'Dogherty. 'Didn't I,' says he, ' pilot your great grandfather out of Dublin Bay forty years ago? and was he not drowned by my direc- tion, inasmuch as you see I didn't see the rock that sunk the vessel, and never again seed him till he was dead as a herring.' 'You shall be my pilot,' said the Baronet, 'and now we are off, for I want to be at Howth in the twinkling of an eye ; my yacht 's in the Bay.' 'Come along,' said Murphy; 'All's w^ell; I'll bring you to the Pier before you can say Murphy, will you drink ! May be you mane to ask me now, and keep me from telling a lie.' ' Good ! ' said Sir Shawn ; ' tip him a whistler, and let us be moving.' Away ran the car, and in twenty minutes they stepped on board the Baronet's yacht, and steered away free for Dunleary. Those w^ho have not been in the Bay of Dublin can form but a very inadequate idea of its beauties ; I can- LIFE IN IRELAND 67 didly confess myself unequal to the description upon this occasion ; perhaps it shone with additional lustre. The lofty Wicklow Mountains, alternately shaded with the liveliest emerald green and russet brown, rising in stupendous grandeur towards a sky unruffled by a single cloud, the numerous magnificent seats and neat country boxes sprinkled from their exalted summits to the margin of a sea as smooth as glass and clear as crystal, on which rode in naval pomp and national pride, the royal squadron, and thousands of vessels of every description, from the dashing yacht of Sir Shawn O'DoGHERTY to the humble fishing-cobble of the industrious nightly toiler upon the main, all filled from the keel to the mast-head with holiday groups, eager to give their King a loyal welcome to Paddy's Land. The Hill of Howth, covered with innumerable spectators in their gayest attire, and flags and streamers waving from every house and every steeple in country and town, formed a coup de (xil never surpassed, and worth all the coronation ceremonies ever witnessed in London, where tinsel, foil, spangles, velvet, silk, sweat, and dust are overpowering the hired and lazy adulators who mingle in the homage due to a King, only because it w^as an ancient custom to do so, and in which the immediate sentiments of the heart have no share. Here was a scene ; ' The feast of Reason, and the flow of soul ' ; here was a sight which angels might exult to view, a liberal and just King crowned by the approbation of a grateful, loyal, and noble nation. Compared to this, how poor every cut-and-dried ceremony, whether in the 68 LIFE IN IRELAND gloomy aisles of cloistered and monastic superstition, or in the chivalric hall of ancient days, where beardless knights in pasteboard and buckram armour make a mockery of the days gone by, and ' Wig-crown'd priests display with pomp and art, Religion's every feeling — but the heart.' However, I am partial to keeping up old customs rendered sacred by their antiquity ; it makes us better acquainted with the characters of our brave forefathers ; renders us more emulous of their virtues, their courage, and national enthusiasm. The blazing of the royal yacht, glittering with more than Eastern splendour, and the Pier of Dunleary crowded with the well-marshalled procession and superbly dressed elegant females, such as Ireland only can boast, were objects that attracted the attention of Brian Boru as they pressed on through the numerous groups of vessels that surrounded them. The silken streamers and flags displayed by Sir Shawn were much admired, and every now and then a royal salute from his brass cannon drew the eyes of every one towards him. Brian, who let nothing pass his observation, exclaimed, ' By the powers ! but the royal yacht reminds me of a classic description I have read about Cleopatra's galley sailing down the Cydnus to meet Marc Anthony, when the oars kept time to the music' Lady Demiquaver very shrewdly remarked, ' The comparison won't hold good ; Cleopatra's galley had oars but no sails, the Royal Yacht has sails but no oars ; besides, Brian, where is your Cleopatra, the female commander? you don't mean to compare the LIFE IN IRELAND 69 King to a woman ? Had you said Marc Anthony's galley, 'twould have been nearer the mark.' ' No, pardon me, my Lady,' interrupted Brian, 'Anthony was a blackguard, and King George is known to be a ^'<2 The Richmond steamboat too has burst. Her boiler's running o'er : In short, like me no quack so curst Exists on Ireland's shore. I might the ills of England cure By aid of hemp and steel, But here my practice none endure — I 've lost the right to feel The pulses of those quondam dames Who fann'd the fire of age, And now consum'd in envious flames. At their old sweethearts rage. I 've danced with every Irish lass, And drank with Irish boys, Till reeling drunk, and like an ass, I stoop'd to brutish joys. H 114 LIFE IN IRELAND The peace I made with Buonaparte Ne'er cost me half the trouble, As that made here, by Irish art — Through whiskey I see double. There is no luck about the house ^^'hen I am far away ; E'en the new drop is out of use, And Jack Ketch out of pay. Thy velvet cap 's moth-eaten grown ; The noble Bridge- street Gang No hungry pedlars now beat down, Nor shop-boys strive to hang. But, thanks to G — GE, my time is short ; Once more with joy I '11 hail ye, With helpless victims fill your court And bar at the Old Bailey. Tell B — WN to brush the darbys clean, The Doctor 's coming o'er ; The cells well peopled shall be seen With friends from Ireland's shore. I 've got some hundreds on my list. All libellers so strong, The half of which transport at least. No matter right or wrong. The soldiers all shall hew and hack ; Success I '11 drink, with glee, To Newgate's drop — to friend Black Jack — To G — GE the F — th, and me. S — D TH. 'The thing is political,' said Brian, 'and may be good for something, so I '11 e'en have it published, in order that the right owner may recover his property.' Sir Shawn now arrived, and taking his friend by the LIFE IN IRELAND 115 arm, they sallied out for the rotunda. As they passed on, Sir Shawn assured Brian he would show him plenty of Life in Dublin. 'Now you are broke in you can jog on merrily without a leader. I shall always have the whip-hand to drive you into the circle of fashion, if I find you partial to a more vulgar road.' ' By the faith of my mother ! ' ejaculated Brian, ' I love fun, but your Life in Dublin is so nearly bordering on DEATH, that I fare a Connaught man can't long survive it.' ' A real Irishman,' said Sir Shawn, ' should despise life under any circumstances ; he is lavish of it either in the field of Mars or Venus ; amid the applause of surrounding nations, or a multitude assembled to witness his exit on the wooden suspe?ider, he is still the same thoughtless and indifferent being, whom neither disgrace or death can change; nay, not even the pro- spect of doing penance for a thousand years in purgatory can make him a coward at his dissolution ; I will relate an instance or two within my own knowledge of this hardihood of conscience, or honourable feeling, which- ever you choose to call it : — 'An Englishman and Irishman were brought to the fatal tree to expiate their sins by a stretch and a kick; the Englishman lamented his fate pathetically, the Irishman in dignified roguery looked on it with in- difference, and reproached his friend for his pusilla- nimity. " Don't you see," he cried, "that I don't care a d n about being hanged, and why should you ? " " Ah ! " said John Bull, looking up with a piteous sigh, "it is a dreadful thing to me, but you're used to it, Mr. Pat, you 're used to it ! " ' A captain of a man-of-war and a cook were to be ii6 LIFE IN IRELAND tried by a court-martial for murder ; they were both Paddies, and the cook seemed depressed in spirits. " Keep your heart up, my honey," said the Captain, "you perceive I'm not afraid of being hanged." "No more should I," said the other, "were twelve cooks going to try me." Twelve Captains always form a court martial.' 'Some die,' said he, 'bold in simplicity of heart; I knew two Connaught lads who were out in the ruction {rebellion) of ninety-eight, and having shot some soldiers in a boat on the Shannon, were ordered to be hanged on the river ; a gallows was fixed in two boats, and one fellow being turned off, the rope broke, he fell into the water and escaped to the shore by swimming j the other appeared much distressed, and as the noose was fixing round his throttle, exclaimed, " Do for the Lord's sake tie me up tight, Mr. Ketch ; if the rope breaks I '11 be sure to be drowned, for I can't swim a stroke ! " ' Another fact and we have done : — Two brothers were hanged at Knockmanafaddy ; the one being turned off, the other addressed the crowd ; "Behold," said he, " my brother, and take warning ! see what a melancholy spectacle he appears ; in a few minutes I will get the swing, and you '11 see no more, for then there will be a pair of spectacles I " 'AH this is very good' (said Brian), 'but as neither of us intend to be hanged, we need not fortify our minds by bad examples ; for my part. Life in Ireland appears preferable to death in the most glorious manner, and as we have an appointment, it is fit we keep it with punctuality.' LIFE IN IRELAND 117 As they walked up Sackville Street, Sir Shawn admonished Brian, as this was the first essay to him of High Life, to observe much and say Uttle. As they passed by Nelson's Pillar, Brian observed that it was mortal ugly, and the ship on the top looked like a dog-vane on a maypole. ' Why,' said Sir Shawn, 'as Nelson's actions were unlike any other man's, the Irish architect determined to make this recording monument unlike anything in heaven above or on earth beneath; and, by Jasus ! hke Nelson's actions, which may be imitated but never surpassed, this pile of stones may be imitated, but I defy the Devil's own architect to come up to the ugly original.' The Rotunda Gardens were very brilliantly illumi- nated; horn lanthorns were hung in the trees, and the smell of lamp oil perfumed the air; bands of music played Irish airs with French accompaniments, and kettle drums shook the dust off the trees in clouds sufficient to smother any but an Irish company. Our heroes surveyed the motley groups with satisfaction ; titled beaux and belles, merchants and tradesmen, shop- keepers, innkeepers, excisemen, tax-gatherers, soldiers, pickpockets, parsons, grass-widows, men and women milliners, demirups, and accommodation beauties mingled together, and threaded the mazes of this superlative garden over and over again. ' By the cross,' said Brian, 'it is a pain to walk in this pleasure garden : 'tis a fisherman's promenade — three steps and overboard; instead of Dublin Vauxhall, it should be christened Vex-all, for none can go pleased from such a poor, proud, pitiful, pimping place.' Sir Shawn smiled at Brian's alliterative apostrophe, and remarked, ii8 LIFE IN IRELAND 'All don't see with your eyes, for all seem to be cheerful and good-humoured.' ' By Jasus ! and that's no proof of its pleasantness, for you proved to me awhile ago that an Irishman can be happy under the gallows.' A rush now from all parts announced that the Rotunda doors were thrown open and the concert about to begin. Our heroes made two of the hundreds who entered after having their ribs squeezed to death, their coats torn, and their pockets picked. It was in vain to attempt getting near Lady Demiquaver, who, as patroness of the evening's amusement, was hid by groups of fashion from vulgar eyes; a fiirt of the fan and a nod of the head was all poor Brian had to console him for the trouble he had undergone. A w^ord from Sir Shaw^n would have opened the ranks of fashion, but he wanted to see, and not be seen. Lord Wiggins tript up to the party and introduced himself to Brian with his usual effrontery, or no}i chalance if you please. His Lordship was a wit, and undertook to explain what appeared incomprehensible to him ; Sir ShaWxV bowed thanks, and in half an hour the reputations of half the rooms were torn in pieces by this able butcher of character. 'Behold Lord M ,' said he, 'that youth with no buttons to his coat, and no brains in his head ; he gained a fortune by his father's death and lost a con- stitution before he was twenty-one; he married an old widow to doctorise him, who died on the continent ; he brought her home in pickle himself, sat astride on the coffin, and waked her all the way to Dublin. He now wants another to put buttons on his coat and mend it LIFE IN IRELAND 119 too, for he is most damnably out at the elbotvs, and both his fortune and nose stand in need of a thorough repair. ' There goes Sir Charles, a finical fop ; he holds office at the Castle, and the ladies affect to admire him because he gives them tickets of introduction to the presence. Like his royal master, he is fond of young flesh, and does not care who it belongs to provided he can help himself to a slice; his fortune is great; his patron died from the bite of a mad dog, and 'tis thought Sir Charles at times exhibits symptoms of hydrophobia. 'That man walking like a sheep with the staggers is another Castle Baronet, a Downshire Cat ; he is troubled with fits of epilepsy which always attack him when a tradesman sends in his bill, but leaves him on an invitation to dinner. He has a wife rambling about London, her address can be known at any of the Police Offices, as she generally resides in one of His Majesty's strong houses, vulgarly 'yclept a gaol. ' Here comes Monopoly Peter; he has refused a title because he hadn't spirit to pay the fees of office ; he has built a town, brewed beer and baked biscuits for the Army, contracted for pike-heads to supply the rebels, and afterwards informed Government thereof; he has as much honour as Jemmy Barlow, and honesty sufficient to keep him from a halter in Green Street. Notwithstanding his large fortune, his brother is butler to a Lord that can't afford to keep a wine-cellar, and his mother would starve did not her name stand on the concordatum list for forty pounds per annum : but he is one of the To?i, keeps 2. fiU}\ and ' 'He be I20 LIFE IN IRELAND d d!' said Brian. 'What dashing belle is that making love to a young officer? She bears the marks of fashion engraven by the pencil of Father Time.' ' That was once Ireland's greatest beauty ; her Lord was celebrated for being the ugliest man in Dublin, and one of the highest ; she dispensed her favours liberally as her caprice dictated, was famous on the turf as a judge of blood, but having lost a race at Kilkenny for a pair of breeches, she retired in disgust for some years ; she again came out a clean widow, and now makes love to those who formerly courted her. The youth on her arm is an Englishman ; he commands a regiment here, is half a fool, and very rich ; at present she commands both his purse and person. 'That tall strapping fellow admiring his limbs is a dentist, and accounted to have the best leg in Ireland ; he is a fading buck, and has recently been christened by Lady Clearall, in allusion to his profession. Buck- tooth; he meddles with every one's business, but has very little of his own. ' That belle with the blue eyes, brown complexion, and thick ancles, is entitled to ;£5o,ooo when she comes of age ; no one has been bold enough to put the question to her as yet, for she has got an ugly method of knocking her lovers down when they come near the point.' — 'Bad luck to her mutton fist!' murmured Brian.- — ' Her family are famous for the Imv manner in which they came by their armorial bearings : — A certain Queen of Munster, called Gracey O'Slanagraugh, in making a tour of her kingdom, lodged at the Castle of M'Murdoch, and was hospitably entertained; when about to depart she remarked there was no arms over LIFE IN IRELAND 121 the Castle gate. " We have none, plase your Majesty," was the reply to an inquiry she made ; she instantly plucked up her robes of state, and squatting upon the snow, cried, " There's my mark, take it for your coat of arms, and the Devil a one shall have another copy of it." She forgot the motto ; what the figure is called in heraldry I know not, but to this day the M'Murdochs bear it ; and every pat of butter on the estate is marked with its impression. Miss M'Murdoch can do what no other lady in Dublin would find comfortable — sit upon her anns whenever she pleases, and yet be in an elegant position. END OF CHAPTER IX. 122 LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER X Entrance of Sally M'Lean— The Cutchachoo Club— Its rules and regulations — Catalani and ' God shave de Can ' — Scene at Moran's Hotel and D'Arcy's in Earl Street — Miss Maydew, a clever managing girl — Tim Byrne — A shot at my grandmother's nose — Major Sham — A coal-porter's wedding — A wet at Pat Heney's in Mop Street. H OW long this modest gentleman's description of his friends and acquaintances would have lasted it is impossible to guess ; happily a nymph, 'yclept Sally M'Lean, tapped him on the shoulder; ' What, my worthy, lying as usual ; I want you to lie with me.' ' Glad to assist you 'pon honour,' said the Baronet, as he cut his company with a three square bow, and mingled in the croaking cutchachoo club, who had entered the Rotunda preceded by Sally. The Cutchachoo Club are very respectable ; con- sisting of the first characters in Ireland ; in the list will be found Lord Reads-a-deal, Lord Talks-a-deal, Lord Stare-at-em, Lord Squint, and Colonel Black-a-blue-eye, Ladies Never-deny, Clearall, Care-for-nothing, and Poll Poppingjay. They had once a Croakijig secretary, who is now secretary to a sort of a Marine Club over the water in London somewhere, or Westminster, as I understand both cities stand separately together. LIFE IN IRELAND 123 Ladies and gentlemen at this Club meet, drink, dance, and sing altogether. Harmony, harmony; oh! it is exquisite! I have heard ' Eiren go Bragh,' 'The Battle of the Boyne,' 'The Grinder,' 'Paddy Wack,' and 'The Sprig of Shillelagh,' all chaunted by different voices, and accompanied by //z-different fiddles, each man playing his own favourite tune. At the conclusion the gas burns dim ; and have you not seen the boys and girls at a county Charter-school standing up to read the Bible lesson ? if you haven't, I have ; they gobble over the leaves like hawks, and run to prank it upon the green sod, like a parcel of Lord Ely's grey- hounds ; just so ends the Cutchachoo ; all dance and sing to the tune of ' Bumpers, bumpers ! ' This song, set to music by Tommy Moore and written by a Croaking frog^ is excellent in its kind; you shall have it when I have nothing more important to give you ; at present Madame Catalan! is squalling in most delectable style ' God shave de Can,' meaning in English ' God save the King.' The thing was good, and good-humoured ; Paddy applauded her mightily. ' By my soul ! ' said a coffee-house Napkin, ' how clear she has got her throat since eight o'clock this morning, when I saw her swallow twelve cups of coffee, three beef steaks, and an arm chair. ^ This observation attracted Brian's attention: 'By my soul,' said he to Sir Shawn, ' I wonder if the chair was stuffed with hair and gilt with brass nails ? she must have had the Devil's own swallow.' 'Och!' said Sir Shawn, 'a bolus of horse-hair, Brian, or a buttered hedge-hog is a remedy for clearing hoarseness, sold by Terence 124 LIFE IN IRELAND Mullingar in Dirty Lane; 'twas never known to fail, for no one was ever heard to complain after having swallowed it. An arm chair in Ireland is merely a London spatch-cock^ fixed with the wings so as to form arms, and the legs so as to appear really legs, and a sausage or a potatoe is placed on the seat mounted in the form of a judge, and powdered with salt.' The crowd at the Rotunda was now so great that Brian compared it to a pack of hounds hearking into cover, and with some difficulty he and Sir Shawn broke cover and gained Sackville Street in good order. Quietness reigned around ; not a breath was heard but that of the watchman roaring half-past tray o'clock, the Downshire militia were padrowling the streets and knocking down every one that came in their way : and shouts of ' Death and glory ! ' from Earl Street, where, as usual, the Kilkenny boys were dusting their jackets and having a brush before morning. Our heroes steered steadily along until they came to Moran's Hotel, into which they darted ; there they found old Daly, Major Sham, and Tim Byrne, engaged at billiards. Sir Shawn was no billiard player; he never gambled, but would take a hand at cards or a hand at a ball, in a friendly way, as readily as any gentleman ought to do. Brian did not know a game superior to Irish Cribbage, Prick at the Candle, and Five and Ten ; however, he took delight in viewing the anxiety of these celebrated players to gain a stroke. ' One of these gentlemen,' said Sir Shawn, 'is an adept in the art of gambling ! he once was a patentee of a public place of amusement, and resigned it in another's favour upon a pension of seven hundred a year; since that he eats, LIFE IN IRELAND ii drinks, and runs the range of every gambling-house in Dubhn. At D'Arcy's in Earl Street he was one night engaged to play for a serious sum, and conceiving that the Marker had tipfd him the fling, he hurled one of the balls at his head. Every ball has its billet, says the soldier ; 'twas so in this case, the ball struck the Marker's temple and killed him on the spot.' 'And why dident they hang the villain ? ' said Brian. ' Because they dident try him,' said Sir Shawn. ' By the foot of Pharaoh,' said Brian, 'I'm off; the man that wantonly destroys a fellow creature is no company for me, and deserves to be whipped through Connaught stark naked at the heel of a car, or thrown from the Giant's Causeway into the Brine. Come along, come along ! ' Out they both sallied, having first had a roller of raspberry whiskey from the fair hand of Miss Maydew ; everybody knows her : her father was hanged for being in the way of the police officers, and having hanged several croppies on false evidence, the truth of which nobody ever doubted : she then got a good name, set up an umbrella-shop in Trinity Lane, broke down, got up into a garret near Smithfield, made bonnets, at length made some money, and made a purchase of the bar in Sackville Street. She is pretty and polite, manages to get custom, and manages her customers in more ways than one, but she never loses by her management. 'Tim Byrne, my friend Brian, is a character you may come in contact with hereafter, 'tis proper you should know him ; he was an eminent wine merchant, and failed to make his fortune ; he is worth half a plump , stands high upon Curragh, is booked at every 126 LIFE IN IRELAND gaming-house, stands good at the Dawson Street Run, belongs to the Kildare Club ; in short, is a prime bit of blood. He has a great deal of spare honour in his composition, for to my knowledge he has been swearing it away these ten years, and still has some left ; he is very quarrelsome, will snuff a candle with a pistol, or propel a ball into the mouth of a quart bottle at the distance of twenty paces. He once laid a wager that he would shoot off the tip of his grandmother's nose through a quick-set hedge as she sat reading the Bible in her garden-chair. For once he missed his mark ; as she happened to turn her head at the moment he touched the hair-trigger, the ball carried off a curl of her wig and the best part of her ear; thus he lost his wager, and much more, for the old lady left to a distant relation twenty thousand pounds which would have been his ; in truth, it did become his, for on the day of the funeral he managed to pick a quarrel with the lucky heir, and having shot him through the head, received the blimt as next heir. He is admitted into all societies, is a pleasant fellow, and an agreeable companion ; the only way to treat him is, with distant civility, and if he should quarrel with you, tell him you never stand fire, but will knock him down whenever he pleases to give you cause ; he is afraid of club laiv^ and will then knock under. 'Major Sham is a good fellow; he is termed a five bottle man, and has done "The State some service." ' During the rebellion of 1798 he assisted in causing the death of its principal leader, for which he got a gold chain and a medal — he always wears it ; and whether in proving the strength of a barrel of whiskey, LIFE IN IRELAND 12 or the strength of a rebel, he is always correct in his undertakings. There are many worse fellows in his occupation and very few better.' By this time our heroes had reached Merion Square, and retired to roost, satisfied with the Life in Dublin they had so pleasantly enjoyed. Brian dreamt of all he had seen, and, in fact, could not sleep for dreaming. ' Dreams are but interludes which fancy makes, When Monarch Reason sleeps, the mimic wakes, Compounds a medley of disjointed things, A mob of Coblers and a court of Kings.' Dreams often prove true ; at breakfast next morning Captain Grammachree stumped in with his smile and salutation of ' Here I am, hearty and fat like a widow's pig. How are you all, rank and file ? ' His presence was always the forerunner of joy, but this day he seemed more elated than usual. ' Going to the Castle this evening?' said Sir Shawn. 'The Levee be bothered!' replied Grammachree; 'there is no life in the Castle; all still puppets, moving automatons, dancing sharps and flats, enough to make a fellow eat his knuckles from ennui. Come with me, I '11 intro- duce you to a scene that don't happen seven times in a twelvemonth ; all will be life and jollity ; it an't worth while to tell you what you '11 see, for when you see it you will know. Master Brian never saw such a scene in Limerick. We must go to the Liberty and get some new suits of old clothes ; let me alone for finding out a rag-man. Come, bear away, and I '11 show you the fun of A COAL PORTER'S WEDDING.' 'i28 LIFE IN IRELAND 'I like the idea,' said Sir Shawn, 'it is one worthy of Gram ; but how will we mingle and not be known ? ' 'Leave that to me; Teague Slaughter was born on my father's estate, his mother was pig-keeper to our middle man from the hour I was born, so Teague is a kind of foster-brother to myself; he is the happy man ; and Peg Levelway was running footman in the place of a twopenny post-horse to the whole town of Newry ; many a teaster have I given her for a shilling's worth of work, so you see I have the interest necessary.' ' Bravo, Gram !' said Sir Shawn, 'we can't go upon a forlorn hope where you lead the way!' 'Hope,' said Gram, 'by St. Patrick! all will be life, hope, and rapture; ten cars were engaged this morning to bring the daises from the Royal Canal, every one clean smock and block; the Black Rock jingles are now jingling down Townsend Street with hundreds of black-faced clogs in white shirts and worsted hat-bands tied round their right arms, stuffed with gilt paper shamrocks and wedding favours. Come along, boys, or we shall be too late. ' The game is up, the sport 's begun, By Jasus ! 'twill be glorious fun.' The procession on this memorable day was more than commonly grand : if all Dublin was not there, the best part of it was. Townsend Chapel spliced the lovely pair; that is, the minister of it, — 'tis all the same. In Ireland we have a snug little thing in a corner called 'the priest's bottle,' and after undergoing the mighty fatiguing ceremony of a marriage, a drop of it sets the nerves straight, and bothers the senses ^ fc) ?1 IS) ^ ^ 4 1 LIFE IN IRELAND 129 beyond all comparisJwient. Teague Slaughter loved a mouthful^ Peg Levelway loved a small toothful^ and so did the priest ; a drop was melted down into the leaden cup, and all round took a stifler. Had you seen the bride-maids with their bastard childer on their backs, you would have turned an honest man for joy, and got married without a whew ! — Well, 'tis all over. A consummation devoutly to be wished had taken place — och ! the Devil knows when, for Peg was seven months gone before she went to chapel ; — that was nothing to nobody but God Almighty and themselves. Out they came in prime order jostling La Louette's riding school. (If you have not been there you should make one ; Counsellor Philips goes there to make speeches upon the animal creation ; Sally M'Lean goes there ; so does all the three Mr. Wiggins, and the Earl of Coat Laps.) Well, they doubled the corner, bilked the market, shyed the college wall, and steered down Moss-street. ' Here,' said Sir Shawn, ' we '11 take our standing to see what passes ; Pat Heney is a good-natured fellow as ever kept a porter and punch- house, and from his parlour we can blink upon the crowd and be unseen.' ' How do, Pat?' said Sir Shawn, as they entered the gangway ; ' The better for seeing your Honour well ; I see you 're rigged for fun.' '■ Bedershin,' said the Baronet, and put \\\sflippe7' to his nose, 'show us into your parlour.' 'The Devil a foot till you've taken a drop for luck's sake,' 'It must be so,' said the baronet, ' Pat will have his own way, so Brian, handle the noggin, and do justice to Pat Heney and his stories.' Brian quaffed, and so did they all. The procession now advanced two and I I30 LIFE IN IRELAND two ; every carman rode on double horses, behind them sat their dames and gridirons (pubUc-house sweethearts) ; pipes of tobacco sent their fragrance up into the air ; the juice of old quids squirted on the ground formed a sort of moving bog beneath their feet. But then, in a jiffey. It plung'd in the Liffey Pigs, children, and fowls in its way. It carried along, Tremendously strong, And landed them all in the Bay. END OF CHAPTER X. LIFE IN IRELAND 131 CHAPTER XI Continuation of a coal-porter's wedding — A pump and a ferry- boat — Scene at Poll Katalane's — Monkey's allowance served out — End of the wedding — A mistake in the bedding — Captain Gkammachrke in a car with a litter of pigs— Brian BoRu's strange bed-fellows — Pat Mooney's remarks upon Dublin Castle — A trip to the Phoenix Park — A cold collation of hot meats— Visit to the canal basin, and a boat-race for a cow — Brian Boru proclaimed the winner. ON the top of the pump — (you must have seen the pump if you were ever at the custom-house, because, when you step out of the ferry-boat you run your head right against it) — on the top of the pump a young gossoon sat straddle legs, holding a pole with a coal-sack depending from its end, in which were enclosed a fraternity of cats, who had just space sufficient to pop out their heads and catterwaul most gloriously. The bride and bridegroom rode cheek by jowl, and received the drops of stalrinky handed to them on every side most gracelessly. In the uniform of the coal-porters, two heroes rode on each side of the married pair, like supporters to the King's coat of arms ; one suspended a huge pair of horns upon a wooden sceptre ; the other bore a pair of worn-out leather breeches, with silken strings to the waistband. 132 LIFE IN IRELAND Before all, as herald, or avaunt courier, a break-of-day boy rode on a piebald poney, blowing a bullock's horn with all his might and main ; peacock's feathers hung over his brows, and a multitude of party coloured rags covered his figure. The band consisted of an Irish harp, three fiddles, a pair of bag-pipes, and a base drum. Every one that had a voice joined the music, and drowned it in chorus. It would have done your heart good to see the noise and hear the song as they doubled Jacob's Hotel, and steered down to Poll Katalane's. Tune—' Hearts of Oak.' Come, cheer up, brave boys, 'tis to glory we steer, This marriage to toast in a butt of strong beer ; We are all Irish boys, we are sound at the core, And the coal-porter's wedding shall make Dublin roar. Lads of steel are our wives. They never complain. We '11 protect them with our lives. Fearless and steady. We always are ready To drink and get sober again and again. The door at Poll Katalane's was not very wide, nevertheless the whole party found admittance by hook or by crook, and amongst them Sir Shawn and Brian Boru shoved in their noses. The scene did not answer expectation — they were all too far gone. Waltzing began very early, and boxing began very soon after ; coal-dust flew about like thickened smoke, and in the affray our visitors got more thumps than one Monkey's allowance was LIFE IN IRELAND 133 shewn off liberally ; some talked of Major Sirr, others of Major Swann, and at last a retreat was sounded by the landlord. Teague Slau2;hter went to bed with Poll Katalane's grandmother, and Peg Levelway tumbled into the sack with Philibert Flash, an old wooden-legged pensioner — the rest of the family disposed themselves any where, and any how, for the whiskey had rendered it altogether a matter of no importance, either in its present or future consequences. Gram, who during the Hymeneal Procession had lost his way, now made his appearance in a pig car, and was the only biped among the numerous travelling party, except the owner. The pigs, who during the ride appeared to have formed an attachment to Gram, and were unwilling too soon to separate, had escaped out of the tail of the cart as their friend descended, and on opening the door, the room was soon filled with them, the tables were capsized, and all was uproar, till ai length the Stye made a fixture in the fireplace. Brian combed down his locks, and seemed in a state of stupefaction. Sir Shawn laughed, and the Captain grinned. ' What the devil means this ? ' said Brian. 'Means,' cried Grammachree, 'why I could not do more in gratitude, than buy the poor fellow's pigs, Ayho stood my friend, and brought me here safe on his car, and having no where to put them, I thought I might make free with your bed-room.' ' I say, Brian,' said Sir Shawn, ' this is Life in Ireland, how do you relish it ? ' — ' Devilish well, but now homeward, and to bed, for we are for the Phoenix Park by nine, so we must have a somniferous dose.' 134 LIFE IN IRELAND Cross heads three, Said Captain Grammachree, 'Tis useless to be melancholy ; In the morning we '11 rise, When the Sun lights the skies, And away to the park to be jolly. The sun rose in splendour over every part of Ireland, except that which it did not shine upon. The moun- tains of MouRNE kept his rays from Downshire, the CuNAMARA hills precluded him from Galway, and the smoke of Dublin doubled his efforts to illumine the County of Wicklow. Nevertheless Patrick Mooney roused his master before eight, dressed his hair, and put on his steel-hilted sword, all ready for the castle. Sir Shawn met him in the breakfast parlour. As a Baronet, he was splendidly attired, and his star appeared conspicuous ; Brian had none, but he had the phiz of an honest country squire, and as they walked to the carriage arm in arm, Mooney exclaimed, — 'There goes Ireland Polished, and Unpolished, both pure diamonds.' Mooney pressed up behind, and tipt Coachee. 'To the Castle.' ' Arrah blood and turf,' said Mooney, as he let down the step at the Castle gate, 'is this the Castle? by the piper that pleased Moll Casey, it is more like a stable, my master's is a castle indeed, but ' — ' Silence,' said Brian, 'and attend me.' The old Birmingham Tower caught Mooney's eye, and he naturally con- cluded it was a prison. ' For the love of Judy,' said he, 'that you left in Connaught, don't go near that place, all the Irish apostles were crucifixion'd in it, body and bones, and by the powers of Moll Kelly ' — LIFE IN IRELAND 135 'D — n you and Moll Kelly,' said Sir Shawn, 'not a word more out of your Galway mouth, or I '11 have you lock'd up in a crack.' — Mooney was dished. On our heroes went. They were regularly introduced to the Viceroy's chair ; he was a good fellow, and totally forgot that Thursday was Levee day. ' What 's to be done now,' said Sir Shawn to Sir Charles Vernon, 'I must, and will make my bow.' 'Then off to the Phcenix Park, he's there.' 'Aye, and so will I be soon.' — Away they ran, jumped into the carriage, and before they had driven half iv ay down the liberty^ they were halfwdiy to the Park. The Phoenix stood upon the top of his perch, like a Billy Duck on a Mopstick, and the trees on every side waved their green heads in the gale just like rotten cabbages turning blue for want of boiling. The Lord Luff received our heroes politely, and kindly j he apologized for his absence from the Castle, by saying he was not there ; this was k7iown before, but as a compliment, was supposed to be unknown. Brian was gratified by a shake of the hand, and an invitation to partake of a cold collation followed. This cold collation (as it is usual in Ireland) consisted of all the hot meats which could be cook'd in Dublin, and no sooner was it over, than away went his Grace, the Secretary, Brian, Sir Shawn, Sir Charles Vernon, Lady Arabella, to enjoy the pleasures of a Boat Race on Horseback. Reader, I don't apprehend you ever were at Chapelegoe, to eat straw- berries ; if you had, it might give you some idea of a Boat Race on the Royal Canal, for strawberries and water are very closely connected ; I hate all comparisons, so make it yourself. 136 LIFE IN IRELAND The canal basin is near a mile in circumference, more or less. Here the boats all started, four in number. Tl^e men were clad in sky blue scarlet^ and the rowmen in drab coloured red \ they had to row seven times round the SEVEN MILE-STONE, fixed in the middle of the pool, and upon it stood a cow, a real Irish cow, from Liss- munshanagan; this was the prize for the winner. Brian was a good boatsman (you recollect his drowning his tutor in the Shannon), he seized a pair of skulls, and swore to contend for the prize. Sir Shawn had so often row'd from Dublin to Howth and Lamboe, that he was accounted ' prime at the stick,' on the quay — he also stept into a wherry, and the Vice-Regal King gave his assent. 'Twas rum work to see the Baronet and Brian in court dresses, tugging at the oar, and all the assembled quality round in high glee. Away they row'd ; the Pats in their places where they had long practised, held a good tug. Sir Shawn was admired for the elegant manner in which he feather'd his oar, but the strength of Brian carried all before him, and he fairly won the cow. SONG OF TRIUMPH Come down, Mistress Cow, Unto Brian Boru, Come down, Mrs. Cow, you 'r his prize : Unto Liss-mun-shanagan You ne'er can go home again, For you '11 stay here, if you 'r wise. Brian received the cow in his boat, and, as is customary, mounted her back, crowned with Sham- rock, Sir Shawn supported the tail, the minstrels %". ^ ^ vi. \ 4 LIFE IN IRELAND 137 followed in boats, waving flags, and the ceremony ended by Brian bowing to the Lord Luff, and presenting his cow, adorned with ribbons, to a poor widow. If you have been in Dublin, you have seen this ; if you have not, the sooner you go the better, for you never can be better pleased. END OF CHAPTER XI. 138 LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER XII A Public Audience, and Introduction of Brian Boru at the Castle— Making a Knight— A Batch of Ditto— Hell by Twilight— A Cellar Scene, and Grammachree in high order — Scene in Dirty Lane — An Irish Mummy Pit — A Visit to a Holy Well— The Devil's Drawing Room— Arrival at Bal- briggan. HERE this strange eventful scene closed, and Brian Boru, with Sir Shawn O'Dogherty, prepared to meet the elements. Before departing, an interview was requisite with the Lord Lieutenant, that is, a public one. Reader, if thou hast never been present at an audience, held by a Viceroy of a neighbouring kingdom, you may be amused with a description of its ceremonies. There are a set of people about the Castle of Dublin, as necessary to jog on the wheels of state, as a waggoner's nag is to carry his driver. These are called Masters of Ceremony, Lords Chamberlain, Equerries of State, Door Goers, and TresoUing Barbers. As a leading article to these immense concerns, Joe Ward holds a very immortal place ; it is his duty to gallop on an old lean horse, from the Castle to the Lodge in the Phoenix Park, and announce that the Lord Luff is coming : this is not very easily done, but when it is done, it is done quickly. Joe LIFE IN IRELAND 139 Ward was first introduced into Ireland by a man named Hamilton ; he first appeared as Prime Minister to the Laundry Maid in Mrs. Coertown's Lodge, where men and women are collected like barnacles upon a whale's back. Sir Shawn was first introduced, and made his bow before the great Lord Nor — y, and seven more Lords of a portlier size. He made his obeisances, and introduced his friend Brian Boru, who was graciously received. The Audience Chamber is not very long, about a ten yards or so ; here are fixed in silent state the great viceroy, his greater vice-gerents and all the rabble from Dirty Lane, and Three Thirty Sixes, in Cumberland Street. Upon this place stands the Lord Lieutenant and all his courtiers, and before them appeared, to make their bow, Sir Shawn O'Dogherty and Brian Boru. With them there were some others, but of no consequence. The chair of state is one very ancient ; it was made in the time of Edward the Fourth, and has upon its back the emblazoned arms of Great Britain, but these are very different from what they are now; the Rose and the Thistle are closely combined, and some additional illustrations give a most prepon- derous appearance to the Royal Theatre. ' Sir, I am glad to see you and your friend,' said the Lord Luff; 'You are welcome, Bedershen,' said Brian Boru. 'Thank you,' said Sir Shawn O'Dogherty, and after one minute's bowing and scraping, the Lord Luff called upon the Lord Chamberlain to give him his sword. 'I mean to knight you, Mr. Boru.' 'Thanks,' said the humble suppliant, and in a moment he rose a better knight than Sir Shawn, or any other in his country. Irish knights are very peculiar. In England any very 140 LIFE IN IRELAND strange fellow may achieve the honour, provided he can pay the fees; but here it is widely different; the Lord Luff must have been cured of a Pox take you, I forget the disease, or his wife's ckildre?i must have been inoculated for the S??iall Fox, and it is one and the same thing — only one is young, and the other — of age. I will tell a story of Knights : A Captain of a Custom-house Cruizer was knighted, merely because he had the power to drink one bottle more than the Duke of Rutland. Twelve bottles were ranged upon the board, the Duke sank at the eleventh, and his friends triii77iphed into K?iighthood ; it was the custom of this ' Odd Fellow ' to bestow the honour of a 'Knighthood' to all who had the luck to please him. At the village of Dram-a-damgo, an excellent dinner and wines were provided for the Viceroy \ he eat, he drank, he got in good humour, and eventually knighted the landlord ; 'tis fair to say that this man served the office oi High Sheriff, and was a respectable useful member of society. For this no thanks to the drunken V y. But still some dis- crimination should be us'd, and at the discrimination of a Lord Luff, comes from England ; he has no opinion of his own, he is only an echo, to make the responses of government ; but he is often a true one, and the man who could say that Earl Talbot is- any other than a friend to his King and Country, must be a villain. Sir Shawn returned thanks with that grace which ever embellished his name. Brian Boru made his congratulations free from affectation, and in the real style of a true British La?idholder, who never op- LIFE IN IRELAND 141 pressed his tenants, or had a middle man on his estate. I wish it were in my power to add to the Hst many more such men as Brian Boru ; but it cannot be, he's an exemption from many, and nearly stands alone ; 'tis no matter, he can stand by himself, he needs no support, and defies all opposition. Sir Brian Boru did as all other gallant subjects would do ; he had the grace to say, that he was proud and grateful for the honour he had received, and would ever shew his remembrance of it in loyal attachment to the throne. When this was done, he very submissively retired, and with Sir Shawn O'Dogherty passed into their carriage, and drove off full speed to Merrion- square. Coachmen will make mistakes, and why should not Sir Shawn's ; he blundered over Carlisle-bridge, and found himself on Sir John Rogerson's quay, before he knew where he was, and the reason he knew where he was, was this, he saw the river before him, and pulled up, because he didn't like a ducking. The scene at the time was very grand, every house bore the appearance oi Hell in Twilight', turn out, said Sir Shawn O'Dogherty, and I will shew you Life by Moonlight \ go home, Mooney, and take care of the coach. Away went Mooney and the wicklow rollers, and down the quay went Sir Shawn O'Dogherty. Life in Ireland is of so strange a nature, that it is nearly impossible to describe it ; the world there goes upside down, quite on the contrary to what it does in London ; sometimes we Dublin boys meet and quarrel, get broken heads at night, and meet again as friends next morning. There is a sort of friendship which is 142 LIFE IN IRELAND perhaps never known over the fish-pond-, it is that strange partiality, that an Irishman has to his countrymen ; he will lend to him in all difficulties, he will attend him in all his troubles, he will never abandon him in all his distresses, until he finds that the man has been dishonourable, and then he will immediately discard him. It is true that much loiv life may be seen in Dublin, and it is also true, that we are not much acquainted wnth it ; these scenes are not habitual as they are in London, and we have no objection to state what we have seen. The flags on the Liffey were gloriously flowing, and all the lads from the cotton manufactory reloosed their heels ; their heads were not seen, except in a sort of Camera Obsciira ; it was just the same, for no brilliance could be expected from such block- heads. Sir Shawn O'Dogherty and Brian Boru mingled in the scene, and turn'd into a cellar near Dirty-lane ; 'twas an odd look-out ; here were spread more than thirty beds, all in neat trim. The inmates laid heel and poi7it^ quite at home. In passing the Middk-roiv, Sir Shawn stumbled upon a wooden leg and fell. ^ Bother atio7i^^ said Brian Boru, 'what makes you fall?' 'Because I can't stand up,' said his friend; behold when the scenes were explor'd, nothing came in contact but Captain Gram- machree's leg ; this was an obstacle easy removed, and henceforth we will travel on unaccompanied by his timber toe. 'What the devil brings you here, in God's name?' said the Baronet. ' What brought you here ? ' replied 1 5! :^ LIFE IN IRELAND 143 old Gram. 'Why, my legs and my inclination, and be d d to you ' ; 'tis those that carry a man any way against his will. To attest the truth of what he said, he threw off the horse rug, and showed a Christian-like face, which Sir Shawn had known upon the town for some half dozen years ; it was no other than Jean Shanghaessey from the liberty, who finding Gramma- chree half seas over, had taken the liberty of bringing him to an anchor in Blanket Bay, amidst two score of fireships, all commodiously moor'd head and stern ; here might be seen, by the help of a candle stuck in a lump of clay, the fat and frowsy alderman, Dear Lie, by the side of a lady not large enough to form one of his spare-ribs \ nearly in contact with him the very delicate and delicious Tom Slender, Esq., roosted under the arm of Moll Donovan, the female Lambert of Dublin ; from every nursery peep'd out some singular Polls, one mark'd with blue devils under and over his eyes ; another covered with soot, and a third covered with mud, all in a professional way, all labouring in their peculiar vocation ; upon the hearth a few sods of turf were glimmering, scarcely throwing out heat sufficient to warm an old tabby cat, and a sow with a litter of young ones, that occupied the parson's corner, and snor'd by hereditary right at a sovereign rate. The walls were marked with letters, or rather names, oddly spelt, and the once white-washed roof was ran over with senitncQs pefined from the blaze of a candle ; what is in London gaols termed a dunniken^ was fixed behind the door, emitting a smell so fragrant, as to compel our pair of adventurous travellers to sneeze, and albeit, often put their noses in a parenthesis. 144 LIFE IN IRELAND As a sample of Low Life in Dublin, a better could not be produced ; and the Baronet took some pains to explain its beauties to his friend Brian Boru. — In truth, Sir Shawn was no stranger to those receptacles for the living dead — for dead he must be to all the gentle feelings of natural life, who could voluntarily embed himself in such a charnel-house. Nevertheless here was Major Gram, and so well satisfied with his condition, that he swore he would not budge an inch to save his * * ^ ^. — The old Beldame, or the letter-out of this hell for Christians, was very clamorous, insisting that as ' \\\Q.jo7itle men did not purpose having a snooze, or a chop of mutton, they should come down for a drop of stitriiikey.^ To this they had no objection, and Brian pulling out three two-and-ninepennys, set all the room in an uproar; every table then stood upon its own bottom ; all bolted up from the straw roller, and smacked their lips, and scratched their heads, with evident anticipation of joys to come. Such a scene was never before painted or written. Belzoni might have been at an Egyptian feast a little similar, where the mummies of three thousand years' pickling are placed at the festive board, by way of compliment ; nothing could be more ghastly. Peg Wither and Grin toddled out, and soon returned with a black jack full of the real native, part of which she very gracelessly handed to our heroes in a wooden dram glass; this they condescended to taste, and the nappy went round in full chorus ; even Grammachree roused himself, and took a tip over tongue to the tune of ' better luck still.' The scene now became boisterous in the extreme, and the expressions of gratitude which flew from all LIFE IN IRELAND 145 around, were of that coarse texture which we cannot here unravel. Suffice it, that our heroes had a plentiful view of all that can charm the heart, or disgust the eye, and retired perfectly satisfied with what they had seen. Reader, be not startled at this scene in very Low Life ; it is not wanting parallel in the world, even in London. We can daily and nightly dive into such concerns ; Chancery-lane has its ducking stools^ so hath Mofwwuth-streef, and Broad Sai?it Giles s, where the knives and forks are chained to the table, and for twopence you can have a plate of hot ox-cheek, a tumbler of small beer, and a platter of Bazilican salve {alias peas pudding). The shades at Westminster- bridge are not a farthing better, though they are a shilling dearer, and frequented by High Lifd Black- Legs^ instead of Low Lifd scamps. Those who would wish to run doivn Dublin, need not hope to find materials herein for doing so ; they had better look at home, in whatever part of the globe they are situated, and they will either directly condemn themselves, or with the stupid lawyer exclaim — ' Much may be said on both sides.' As all means to remove Grammachree were ineffectual, our heroes consoled themselves with the idea that he was better in bad company, than to make bad company with them. Sir Shawn was now on the wing for some novelty wherewith to amuse his friend Brian Boru — a plan he had long in agitation was forthwith put in execution. A Visit to a Holy Well. There are many of these in Ireland, rendered sacred K 146 LIFE IN IRELAND from antiquity, and the reverence which superstition bears to anything of notoriety. Thus there are Saint Mary's, Saint Catherine's, Saint Dennisses, Saint Jen- nings, and Saint Murdoch's, which are holy wells ; at all of these people congregate in thousands, for the purpose of washing away their sins. I am not aware why these wells have been termed holy, unless it may arise from their issuing from a hole in the ground; 'tis no matter, a dip is accounted by Pat sufficient licence for him to commit with impunity, for the ensuing year, any crimes he chuses. The morning was fairly a wet day, when our heroes set off on a hired jaunting-car for Balbriggan, accompanied by Pat Mooney. The drive down by the Skerries is fine, and the fishing smacks on the ocean appear superb objects to those who are so far off as to be unable to distinguish colours. Behind the charming little village of Balbriggan lay a long valley, called from its beauty and heaven-like appearance, ' The Devil's Drawing- room ' ; and strange as it may appear, here the Virgin Mary has established a bath. The time is very doubt- ful when this streamlet was decreed to issue from the turf bog; but the Psalter of Cashel attributes its exist- ence to the very identical day and hour when Joseph of Arimathea planted the Glastonbury thorn. Such authority cannot be doubted— it is as true as the Rights of Ma?t, or Hotie^s Gospel. Surrounded by an elegant circle of Irish trees, and bramble bushes, is discovered this little halloived wash- hand basin ; on one side of it runs in eccentric meander, a fine heavy gutter, well stocked with frogs, pigs, and ducks; right in its front a sibean house hangs in terrific LIFE IN IRELAND 147 array on the edge of a rock, from whence the devotees, well primed with costiguous malt, descend with hideous yells to have a sup from the iron ladle. Sir Shawn and Brian Boru, clad in russet brown, alighted at Tim Connor's just in time to see a mid-day dipping. Little notice was taken of our heroes ; they had their glass at the mash-tub, and paid their two sixpences for the Priests, who, although seldom present, had pronounced a benediction over the grave or well of the Virgin, which imbibed all the virtues of Cornelius O'Callagan, who, as every woman in the province of Ulster can testify, is a powerful man on his knees at his favourite devotions. Would you be after taking a noggin, said Tim, to drink the Virgin's good health in her watery grave, at the same time handing to Sir Shawn a tin pot marked with a crucifix, for which he had to down with his tenpenny, and away they trudged to the well in so mingled a crowd, that the Da7ice of Death was never equal to it ; probably four thousand individuals formed this grotesque scene, some on their knees, some turning head over heels, others with hands raised to the sky, all bawling out ' Shave us, shave us all, holy mother.' — 'By my soul,' said Mooney, 'and if she does come down to shave you all, she'll have a dirty job, and there is not water enough in the holy- well to make a lather for you all.' At the well such a scramble took place, as Brian had never before seen ; he and Sir Shawn went neck and heels into the gutter, and poor Mooney followed very quickly, and, in defiance of decorum, he came slap upon his master's inexpressibles ; not a soul stayed to pick up the fallen heroes, all trod and plodded on to fill their cans at the 148 LIFE IN IRELAND sacred spring. With much ado our party extricated themselves, and proceeded on to the place, where, to their surprise and laughter, they beheld friend Gram- MACHREE, sitting bare-headed, and bathing his wooden leg in the crystal stream. ' Welcome, welcome, my boys,' he bellowed ; ' here am I, just after taking a dip to cure me of the rheumatism, and you may also take a dip into this side pocket of mine, where is a drop of the best whiskey that ever was brewed on the banks of the Liffey, to comfort a fellow after a cold collation.' Sir Shawn and Brian took a small taste of the cruet, and carrying the Major under their arms, steered away to the jaunting-car ; the scene was then highly imposing, twilight began to spread its shades around, and cries of love, despair, and devotion shook the air. In the midst of this hallaballoo, the trio dashed up the valley, and made for Balbriggan. Mooney, who undertook to drive, had the genius to capsize the vehicle three times in a mile. Nevertheless they sustained no injury; an outside jaunted car is made for no other purpose than to be tumbled off in the most easy manner; you sit on it back to back, in the most unsociable manner, and have to talk over the shoulder to any one you wish to hear you. As to looking a person in the face, it can't be done ; the thing is impossible, unless you wish to break your neck. This did not hurt our friends, for they safely alighted at Bet Thorey's, where is written over the door, ' The moon doth shine both bright and clear, Come in, my lads, and drink some beer,' END OF CHAPTER XII. LIFE IN IRELAND 149 CHAPTER XIII Scenery at Balbriggan — Meeting with Lady Demiquaver — Belle Vue — The word of a Demirep — A view from Dirty Lane— The Life of a Lawyer — Dublin Four Courts — Seats of Justice — Lord Quiverwit — Culpable Homicide by compulsion — A Woman guilty of Manslaughter — A Bogtrotting Beauty at the Bar— Good reasons for Sheep-stealing — An absent Council — Thady Muck- MUTTOX and Bob Johnston— Comfort to those going to be hang'd, or let them do it— Monody in prose upon Drunken Bob — Compunctions of Conscience, or Lady Muchaulty upper- most— Crim. Con. and Counsellor Philips — Hot Beef-steaks at the Struggler — Pat Dueginan and his new- cooking apparatus — — Virtues of Bog-turf — Struggles to live, and a slumber in the Arms of Murphy. THOSE who have not been at Balbriggan can have nothing to say to its beauties or its imperfec- tions. The waves on every side were in motion, and so was the elbow of Brian Boru, who had uncorked a glass of as pure port as was ever made in the Province of Ulster. I hate to describe any scene with the pen which a man can see with the eye, for the trouble of looking thirteen miles from Dublin before the head of his horses. But there is a somewhat in the air of Balbriggan that renders a man lively. Aye and a w^oman also, though at many and often times a fellow does not want a woman to be in a state of jollification. There are a fine swell of mountains rising from I50 LIFE IN IRELAND Squirt; Savage's back-side premises, and in the run down to the hedge hole of brother Strongside much may be seen to charm the eye and catch the ear. The Pier of Balbriggan is a beautiful view, and I would do great injustice to Ireland if I did not attempt to say something in its favour. The hills of Wicklow are in great beauty spread before the left handed view of an Irishman, in more than decent pride. On the right the mountains of Mourne spread their shade all round, and the far-spreading shades shed a melancholy grandeur over the sombre scene. Nature laughs on every side ; the falling rill, and the murmuring stream, shot up sprays that cool'd the air. Every valley breathed health, every valley wafted perfume, and few ever visited Balbriggan that did not part from it with regret, and return to it with pleasure. Sir Shawn and Brian Boru had a generous meal, and sallied out to see the pigs of Balbriggan ; it was not to be wondered at that our heroes were taxed most unconscionably by every spalpeen that came in their way ; it was down at the coal-quay corner that Sir Shawn met, to his great astonishment, the great and good Lady Demiquaver ; she had come down from Dublin, and Sir Shawn knew her as well as one pig would another, if they met in a slough or in a brown George. 'How are you, my dear jewel?' said the Baronet ; ' I 'm right glad to see you so happy, so comfortable and snug at Balbriggan; and what did bring you here? Except a little sprig of intranquillity.' — 'The deuce of anything but the sake of rambling, and the hopes to see you and friend Brian.' ' Not a word of him ; he has just been dipp'd in the holy well, LIFE IN IRELAND 15T and is no more fitted for a joke than I am for a tight rope dancer at the new drop.' — 'That,' says Lady Demiquaver, ' is a truth. None ever thought you had the smallest title to be an adept in dancing, but as you seem to have an ambition for the situation of a dangler in air, remember I am your foster mother^ and answer for your sins.' 'Agreed,' said Brian Boru, and in the hand of Lady Demiquaver, down he went to Belle Vue. It is not likely that any one used to looking upon the sea would admire Belle Vue, but still it had its beauties, sweetly reclined in the shade. I have not one word to say of the mother. She might, and she may be, good, bad, or indifferent, for what I care. What the devil has a common occupatioiier to do with such things ? The lodge of her Ladyship was peculiarly decent, and it could not be otherwise when her Lady- ship attended to it, but the devil of it was that she seldom attended to her word. This you may say, gentle reader, is a mere trifle ; it is true it is so, but in Life in Ireland it is a matter of much more than general importance. I cannot say one word against Lady Demiquaver. She imported to our heroes a crown of joy, and partook of it. I will not say whether she partook of it in a crown bowl of punch, or in a Highland reel, it was much the same, and when the party mounted the jaunting-car from Balbriggan to proceed to Dublin, even Major Grammachree blessed the footsteps of Lady Demiquaver. It is much to be wished that men of sense and service like the heroes herein described, should go forth to the world as they really are. But d e it can't be done; they skulk behind the hot 152 LIFE IN IRELAND beds of jealousy, fostered by the canker-worm of dis- cretion, and are never seen until forcibly dragged to the light, by the power of omnipotent law. ' Have you ever,' said Sir Shawn, as him and Brian BoRU disengaged from the arms of Lady Demiquaver, ' have you ever been in the Four Courts ? ' ' No,' replied his friend, 'and only know from report what it means.' 'There,' said Sir Shawn, 'stands the build- ing, celebrated as the emporium of Law and Logic. Probably it has not its parallel in the habitable globe. It is no disparagement to it that it faces Dirty Lane, for that is a crossing we must all go through before we reach the castle end of the city. This dark and dreary place is now, by the order of government, called Bridge-foot Street, but it will never lose its original appellation. ' Here were perpetrated the foul murders during what is called EfumeWs rebellion, and a brave colonel fell, rather than confess himself a traitor.' The bridge has very fortunately been swept away by the torrents of the Liffey, and a new one constructed, which makes a fine and irregular opening to the Courts of Justice. 'It is now,' said Sir Shawn, 'a full day at the bar, so if you choose to see a sprinkle of the Life of a Lawyer, you can't do better than shake your heels and head for a few minutes amongst the big ivigs.^ ' With all my heart,' said Brian ; ' we have kept it up very decently, now let us go down and see what is to be seen.' The hall of the four courts is really elegant, but the exterior by no means corresponds. The dome is the most vulgar thing that ever was dignified by the title LIFE IN IRELAND 153 of a piece of architecture; it has not unaptly been stiled by Pat, in his eccentric way, ' a large turnip, or top of a haystack,' and the courts appropriated to hear the causes of justice in, are so narrow and confined, that a stranger would think they were cells of confine- ment for all the lawyers and liars in dear Dublin. In truth, it has always reminded me of my Lord Mans- field's handsome farm-yard, near London, which opens by gothic entrances into a dozen hogsties, and verily the w^ell designated swinish multitude are always found in abundance, in and near those pavilions of public reprobation. A cause had just come on, before my Lord Dawer- wiT, of som.e notoriety if not of great interest. Sir Shawn and his friend were accommodated with seats within the bar, and listened with gentlemenly atten- tion to all the blackguard arguments and assertions of the black tribe. A gentleman was arraigned, for that he shot his friend, for love, in a duel. The fact was admitted, and the prisoner pleaded in extenuation of the offence, that he could not help hitting his antagonist, by reason they fought at a short arms length. The plea was good, and a verdict given, 'culpable suicide by compulsion,' to the satisfaction of an indifferent court. 'It reminds me,' observed Brian, 'of a trial in my own sweet country, where the jury, under the judge's direction, brought a woman in guilty of 7nanslaughter for stealing a pair of breeches ' ; they were all determined to save her from a halter, and it was just as well to do it in this manner as any other more common way.' At this moment a man was barr'd, who did not 154 LIFE IN IRELAND bear even a trace of the human form in his composi- tion, his face was so disfigured with dirt, that potatoes could have been planted either by drill or broadcast on his cheeks ; and his * Brawny shoulders four feet square ' were covered with the remnants of a ' horse^ or rather a donkey rug,' all in remnants; his breeches, like Joseph's coat, were of many colours, but defied even a colour merchant's eye to say which was which ; and he had no stockings upon his legs, but those he came into the world with, and a fine blue and buff pair they appeared to be. Upon his feet were a handsome pair of Kilkenny straw sandals, bound with hemp and rope yarns. His daddies were not unlike haunches of venison in a state of decay, I mean in that state of civic putridity, which would have well pleased the nostrils of Sir Watkin Leives, and the appetite of Billy Curtis. Added to all these elegant accomplish- ments, he had a head, on which the hairs stood firm and pointed, ' Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. ' He stood at the brass slider a monument of God's judgment against vanity, and with all the assurance of the devil, exclaimed, ' not guilty,' to the usual charge. Did you not steal the sheep, said Macttally, the celebrated counsel. ' I don't, by Jasus, know a sheep from a ship, so how could I steal them ? but I have a counsellor coming, who has had a hand in the job, and will lift me out of it.' 'Aye, and up out of it,' LIFE IN IRELAND 155 whispered Brian, ' for by my honour but you have a devilish hanging look.' The prisoner's counsel did not attend so regular as he expected, and the bench and jury were quite tired out, and seemed to be of opinion he had no one re- tained in his service ; the Judge was upon the point of pronouncing sentence, when Sir Shawn O'Dogherty humanely offered to go in search of his friend. This was agreed to, and Thady Muckmutton declared his name to be Bob /oh?iston. ' I know him,' said the baronet, ' but am doubtful of knowing where to prick for his nob ; however, I '11 try to unkennel him some way or other.' Away he went, and after traversing half the dirty public houses in the vicinity, returned in despair. The fellow's guilt was quite apparent to all, and he was, from a recollection of his numberless offences, sentenced to be hanged. Immediately after the performance of this awful duty, who should make his appearance in tag-rag and bob-tail, but Bob Johnston, reeling ripe with the barley juice. 'Och hogh,' said Thady, fixing his bleared eyes upon him, 'and so now you are after coming to serve me for giving you the five taps as a suspicious retainer.' ' No matter,' said Bob, ' time enough,' as he received his wig and gown from the ground porter's sky spraivlers^ ' time enough for me,' said Bob, ' so it must be in good time for you.' ' Arrah, big blood and 'ounds,' thundered poor Thady, as Bob took his station by his side, ' don't you know I 'm cast for death, and must be hang'd to-morrow ? ' ' Never mind,' said Bob, ' don't fret, what must be must be, let them hang you, let them hang you, and by Jasus, 156 LIFE IN IRELAND I'll make it a dear hanging to them.' This was no laughing matter, but certis the whole court could not refrain from displaying a risibility of features at such a remark. The poor wretch was removed, execrating sheep- stealing, and drunken counsellors as worse pests than excisemen and constables. Poor Bob, now thou art under the sod, let me scatter a wreath over thy grave ; thou wert a friend to the excise, and a fool to thyself. Methinks I see thee steadying thy body at the punch-house door, and aiming thy one eye at the door of the four courts, then precipitate thyself across the pavement, and make a dart into the hall. Methinks I hear thy reasoning ; even in a state of intoxication, it was always eloquent and sound; thou hadst the power to plead in mitiga- tion of every one's faults except thy own, and we could have much better spared a better man. And though thy earthly wanderings were many and sinful, let us hope that thou art not struck off the roll in heaven^ for faults which thou could not extenuate nor avoid. Scarcely had this strange and eventful scene con- cluded, before a new one came upon the carpet ; it was a seducing one for an Irishman to give ear to, and as it went on, Brian could not help heaving a few profound sighs, to the almost forgotten Lady Macanatty. It had often given him pain when he reflected upon the connection he had formed with this young Limerick sparrow, and he latterly began to wish her at the devil, or any more comfortable fireside, at a distance from this world. For it is a truth, that lady had many more LIFE IN IRELAND 157 lovers than Brian Boru, and entertained an equal regard for them all. The present case gave ample scope for the display of Mr. Philips's extraordinary eloquence — he shone with brilliance, and gained a verdict for his fair client, carrying with it excessive damages. ' We have had enough,' said Brian Boru. ' If your single women are such expensive articles in Dublin, 1 '11 try to be wanting them until I can pluck a dilly near old Galway.' By this time our two friends had heard quite enough of Dublin jurisprudence, to convince them that the thing most prudent for them to do, was to get peaceably home. Here they were quite satisfied, so much so, that out they walked, and into the struggler after a hot beef steak. This once famed place is gone to the dogs, since the death of Patrick Duije?ian^ who in him- self was a host, and always able to procure customers, either by slang or gentility, for he could accommodate on either side as4t suited his interest, whim, or caprice. The manner of cooking is rather novel, the steaks being placed betwixt two plates of Queen's metal, which, when the steak was supposed sufficiently done on one side was capsized to the other, as a fork was never made use of, and one hundred dabs have been on the iron sideboard at one time ; this immense plate was heated from flues underneath, where turf was kept perpetually burning. Brian was no epicure, but he knew a bad from a good thing, as well as Sir Billy Curtis. When the cloth was removing, he observed that he had never eat a finer beef steak, and which was owing to its being cooked upon turf, which penetrated the 158 LIFE IN IRELAND pores of the iron and gave it a most delicious flavour. Whether or not it is the case I am no competent judge, never having dined at the Struggler, and am sure that I never shall. My struggles through life have been very severe; I have struggled very hard for a dinner, and been disappointed after all ; I have also more than three nights out of four supped with Duke Hu77ip}irey ^ a thing by no means agreeable to one who prefers low company and a full stomach to high life and hunger. Nevertheless, these heartrending things have qualified me to attempt this account of Life in Ireland, which, if I die I am certain I shall never live to finish, and the reader will have no cause to regret the circumstance. Nothing of moment occurred to our adventurers ; they down'd with the tenpennies, and hastily taking a rummer of whiskey punch, shaped their course for Bedfordshire most plaguily tired, and at the same time pleased with their excursion. Major Gfammachfee had also found his way home, and in the arms of Murphy {alias Morpheus), even Life in Ireland, noisy as it may be, was hushed into tranquil repose for a few hours. END OF chapter XIII. LIFE IN IRELAND 159 CHAPTER XIV A Man's life prolonged for public good — A walk up the Canal — Out of town and still in it — Miseries of London — A King kicking alive — Brian Boru moralizing — A planxty to the memory of Bob Johnston — A damned soul— A pretty girl, and religion turned keel upwards — Buck Whaley, and murder in Irish — Sally Jenkin- son's history — Trip to sea — A song, and an upset in a squall — A water party. IT is manifestly impossible to follow our favourite friends through all their peregrinations in High and Low Life in Dublin ; our limits will not permit us to indulge in the inclination to ramble : we have very unfortunately pledged ourselves to the public, that This Life shall be included in twelve parts or numbers ; our friend old William Shakespeare says — ' Man's life is seven ages ' ; so that we exceed him in our limits as far as he excels us in description ; and if we can judge from the present state of public opinion, we may hazard an attempt to make Sir Shawn O Dogherty a modern Hezekiah^ and add a term of years to his span — we do not mean that he in propria personas has 'turned his face to the wall,' and prayed for this extension, he is not quite so godly, although he does belong to the Sainted Island) but as he is an amiable fellow, with a multi- i6o LIFE IN IRELAND tude of failings, we are not going to part with him before he has made us laugh a little longer, and grow better in his company. We are on the same good terms with Brian Boru : he improves under his tutor's hands, and before he quits Dublin, shall be both an accomplished and a true good humoured gentleman. The last-named hero rose at his usual hour of seven o'clock, and having no pressing appointment, he took a morning's walk up the Banks of the Canal ; this is pleasing employment for an idle person ; he can sit when he pleases on the grass, bathe, or walk at his leisure, whilst every hundred yards he advances he will be certain to find a pretty girl, and a drop of whiskey punch to comfort the cockles of his heart. This is not the case in London, where, should you happen to live in Boiv Lane, Love Lane, or Petticoat Lane, you are compelled to start for the country before daylight, and are quite exhausted with fatigue before you get out of town ; and when you are out of town, as it is called, you are sure to be in some other : for instance, at the East End^ you have not turned your back upon Whitechapel Chui'ch and the London Hospital, before you are in Mile End, Bow, and Romford. Go from Hyde Park Corner, the J Fes tern extreme of London, you tumble through Saint George's Hospital into Tattersal's auction room for brute beasts, and if you escape kicking to death, you must squeeze through the Lock Hospital for prosti- tutes and pickpockets : when you recover your road, you have horse and foot guard barracks to pass, where you stand a very good chance of being Francisficated or Honeyfied — in short, or rather in long, you must LIFE IN IRELAND i6i never stop till you get to Turnham Green, a distance of seven miles from Holborn-bridge, and then you may say you are out of fo7v?i at last, and in the centre of a dunghill, where you breathe pestilence, and tread in pollution. London, taken from the City boundaries in a circular way, is full ten miles out of its ancient limits ; but by water the good citizens have a privilege, celebrated every year by an aquatic excursion, of seeing the school-boys at Harrow and Eton lead up the ' Montem, and eat gingerbread to the King's health ' — God rest his soul — oh ! by my troth, I humbly beg his dody's pardon, I had forgot that he is still 'alive and kicking' in Germany. Besides, they have no want of a burial-place gratis, as Gravesend is in the limits of the City ; but my busi- ness here is not to describe Lo?idon, and all its defects, but Dublin, and all its beauties. I care about as much for London, as the Archbishop of Canterbury does for the Popes toe, or the Greek Patriarch's gallows. So said Brian Boru, as he trod in a beautiful country only one mile from a beautiful city, and cast his eye upon the wude of ocean, that sweep in majestic silence its world of w^aters along the winding shores of Dublin Bay : he could no more at that moment refrain from offering up a prayer for his native land, than an Irish- man could refrain from eating potatoes and drinking whiskey on his death-bed : — ' My soul relies On that all healing and all forming power, Who on the radiant day when time was born, Cast his broad eye upon the face of ocean, And calmed it with a glance — i62 LIFE IN IRELAND Then plunging deep his mighty arm, Pluck'd from its dark domain this throne of freedom, Drench'd it in whiskey punch, and Caird it — Ireland — he did and will preserve it.' Mason was always a favourite poet with Brian, and as such he altered the last stanza of this grand apostrophe, if not for the better, to better please his own wayward fancy. Brian now being in a humour- some mood, sat down near the second drawbridge, and pulling forth his tablets, invoked his muse to the following effect : — A PLANXTY TO the memory of BOB JOHNSTON, THE DRUNKEN COUNSELLOR OF DAME STREET. ' Go along, Bob.' Of all that ever graced the Bar, Or at the Drop were seen, Bob Johnston beats both near and far. Ready to fight, to fend, or spar, As things would intervene. He was a good attorney's guide, But could not guide himself ; In swearing he took monstrous pride. His hands in blood were often dy'd, Though seldom stain'd by pelf. His pen was ready as his speech. Which was both bold and strong, Full well he could good doctrine teach, But then to practise what you preach, Said Bob, is always wrong. LIFE IN IRELAND 163 The WEAK unto the strong must yield, Said Bob, for that 's my way ; The Law is but a Coward's shield, And none to Justice e'er appeal'd, That could from Justice stray. Bob had an energetic power He often call'd to use, He glitter'd in the darken'd hour, And could both be7ich and boxes scower, By dint of sheer abuse. With Newgate's dens familiar. Bob Had unto manhood grown ; With thieves was seen to hob and nob, And taught the rogues to doubly rob Whom he could rob alone. ' I hate, said Bob, a villain's tread, His presence I fight shy ; To gain an honest crust of bread, These rogues in spirit are deeply read, A rogue in grain am I. They live upon the Public purse As if it was their own ; But Lord, it matters not a curse, To spur to death the willing horse Is practis'd by the throne. For gallows birds, are mortal men That flutter in life's day ; Like me they prey on brother men, Like me in foul corruption's den, In stench they will decay. Thus oft he spoke in merry glee, When Whiskey rais'd his feeling, For Bob when drunk oft double saw, And both in liquor and his law. He dealt in double dealing. i64 LIFE IN IRELAND Full many a dog from hempen string Hath Bob by cunning sav'd ; For money he would curse the King, For money make the Four Courts ring, And bless the law he brav'd. For cash he 'd stem the torrent's course, And run the risk of shame ; For that, go on from bad to worse, And sink o'erwhelm'd by many a curse, Damn'd to inglorious fame. So long as Irish Law is fam'd For infamous delay, Bob Johnston will in Court be nam'd. As one who never could be sham'd, Who bore infernal sway. Who peopled Newgate's dens with thieves, And hang'd them when he chose ; He who of life another bereaves, For whom a wife and children grieves, Must be the worst of foes. Gifted with talents at command, And form'd in Courts to shine. Sunk in the refuse of the land. He rose, to light sedition's brand, And spring rebellion's mine. The storm has fled, death's meteor gleam'd, Life's visions past away ; A ray of vengeance o'er him stream'd, The soul that here so darkly beam'd, Has lost the light of day. And plung'd to deep and silent gloom, Perhaps no more to rise ; For sad must be the mortal's doom. When pure Religion on his tomb, Writes— here a villain lies. LIFE IN IRELAND 165 This, said Brian, will do — I cannot for my soul bear the memory of a man who, blessed with uncommon talents, has prostituted them to the vilest purposes, and lived upon the destruction of his fellow-creatures. It is customary in Ireland to laud the memory of Bob Johnston for his talents, his eccentricities, and his addiction to Whiskey Punch. These are sins that might be forgiven, but eccentricities become very serious evils, when use has made them necessary to a person's daily support ; and the only person whom Bob John- ston ever served in Ireland, was Jack Ketch. I would rather perish by the extremest starvation, than live on the blood of my fellow-creatures. The world is already bad enough, and if the superior orders have really no virtue in their bosoms, in charity they should assume the appearance of it, in order that those below them in rank, fortune, and education, might derive a benefit from what they hold in contempt. If Religion be a fallacy, said Brian, 'tis one of such a very com- fortable nature, that I would not be deprived of its beautiful theory for all that the world can give or take away. Dammee, said he, rising from his grassy seat, I am in future determined to enjoy the world in a virtuous way. For Heaven in pity says repent, And bids thee go, and sin no more. With this resolution on his lips, he turned up Stewart's Glade^ where there are often more suckles than honeysuckles to be found. The light breeze that swept over Mill Dale, and bent the heads of the prim- rose, cowslip, and hallowed shamrock, lifted also the i66 LIFE IN IRELAND bonnet off as pretty a little tulip as ever walked upon two faultless limbs to the grave. Brian was caught, his fine-spun ideas vanished like transient thoughts, that leave no firm impression upon the brain, except the one, — thai such things ivere, and you are glad they are gone. He involuntarily paused and pondered, and finally followed her footsteps. I saw thy pulses maddening play, Wild soar'd the pleasure's devious way, Misled by fancy's meteor ray, By passion driven ; But yet the light that led astray, Was light from heaven. This might well be applied to Brian Boru, who had soon taken the frigate in tow, and thought no more of Bob Johnston's cures, Religion and Virtue^ than he did of committing a murder. Sally Jenkinson was a Liverpool fair, but no relation of the great Earl who rules the roast in the King's kitchen, though she had ruled the roast in more kitchens than one. At the age of sixteen she was seduced from home by the famous Buck Whaley, oi Stephen's Green : her sister also was seduced by the same man; and, strange as it is true, they both lived with him under the same roof — 'tis but charitable to say, that one had no knowledge of the other's intimacy for some time with the depraved ^ Buck of Ireland.^ When things were brought to light, jealousy ensued, and in a rage the elder sister stabbed W^haley in the side : he lingered long, and finally died of the wound — no trial ever took place, and little Sally came from the Isle of Man to seek her fortune in Dublin : she had met with old Sir LIFE IN IRELAND 167 John M JF, who for a time kept her in splendour \ but his concerns failing, he bolted to ^ the Islafid,^ and abandoned her, for a good reason — he could not afford to keep himself. Captain Skillett, of the Commissary department, now became her friend ; she had good lodgings in (or near) the gaol of Kilmanham, and a fresh horse to ride upon every day : this was a thing of real true necessity, as she generally came home on foot, for she never failed to sell the animal on which she FLEW OFF in the morning. Old Mr. Skillett bore this till he could bear it no longer ; he had nineteen bad HORSES to pay for, which, with the Forage she con- sumed, has booked hi?n so deep at headquarters^ that he had to retire and vegetate upon his half-pay : vegetation is of a very slow description, and Sally Jenkinson did not wish to be planted in a country garden as a sickly shrub — no ; she thought herself a healthy and flourishing exotic, and of course in great demand for home consumption. She was no fool, and when Brian BoRU met her, she was taking the air upon ^2^40 per annum, which she had whistled out of her three ad- mirers. What they did in Stewart's Glade, is as w^ell known to Lord Stewart in Vienna, as to me in Dublin. Much chat passed betwixt them as they threaded down to Todhunter's Coffee-House, w^here they partook of a splendid breakfast, and turned up a tumbler of champaigne more than once, Sally Jenkin- son drinking with enthusiasm — ' Real Pain to our sham friends^ and Shampaine to our Real Friends.' — Here, said Brian, is a toast which I feel assured ray landlord will pledge me in. By my soul, said Todhunter, and I will do that same — right or left — wrong or right. i68 LIFE IN IRELAND Well, then, said he, ' May those who do 7iot relish the Potatoe in their mouthy have a taste of the stalk i^pon their back' — In this manner time ran, till the sun had passed his meridian. The day was fine — All was peaceful, all was still, Save the gentle whispering breeze That softly sighed o'er Howth's proud hill. Brian proposed a water excursion, and in a pig's whisper they were comfortably situated in the Ringsend Barge, and steered by Tom Evans to the Island of Lambay, where they all landed, to ramble over as sweet a little spot as ever mother nature gemmed the ocean with ; wild celery, endiff, and goss lettuce, are in plenty; water cresses fill every little stream, and samphire hides the rocky sides of the island from a scorching sun. The Norman house claimed some attention — it is only a small castellated mansion, with loop-holes for the use of bows and arrows, and arched below to prevent its being set on fire : an amazing quantity of sea-fowl haunt its shores, and form excellent amuse- ment for the sportsmen. You have a fine view of Dublin and its environs from any eminence on the place ; and you can have excellent curds and cream from the fishermen's wives who inhabit it. Still o'er these scenes my memory treads, With more than all a miser's care ; And every soul-string trembling bleeds, For love can no more meet me there. The evening began to settle upon her throne — the Mou?itains of JFicklozv, over which she had thinly spread her mantle of grey when our party left the ii:r'mmf^w rrr-m ^ M < LIFE IN IRELAND 169 Island and made for Dublin Harbour : the malt had gone briskly round, for Brian Boru took good care to have the boat's locker well stuffed with ' belly timber ' and moisture of various kinds, from humble Port down to exalted Whiskey. In passing near the bows of a British ship of war, one of the abandoned Royal Squadron, Sally Jenktnson, warbled on the air the following song ; and she had as good a voice — aye, as good as Miss Wilson, who was supported at Drury Lane because she had none, and Miss Stephens had. Fresh and strong the breeze is blowing, As yon ship at anchor rides ; Sullen waves incessant flowing, Rudely dash against her sides. So my heart its course impeded, Beats within my perturb'd breast ; Doubts like waves by waves succeeded. Rise — and still deny it rest. Cease, fond heart, thy anxious beating, Rest and think thy lover true ; Yes, he wept, when hence retreating, Sad, he sigh'd a long adieu. Ocean, cease thy troubled roaring, Billow sink to rise no more ; Waft him here whose loss deploring, Ever thus I tread the shore. At this moment a squall took the boat, and fairly turned her and all the party bottom up, where I must leave them struggling for some hours. Reader, if thou hast acquired a deep interest in their fate, and art willing to rescue them from a watery grave, then assist me in my endeavours, by following me to — lyo LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER XV Why an Irishman cannot be drowned — Why a dead man cannot speak — A particular mode of thanks for being aHve when )'Ou thought you were dead — -The Death of Tom Evans — Rough and ready on board a man of war — Turning the Turtle — An attack upon a bomb battery — A challenge — A Dutch sexton's hand-bills — Brian shoots his mark — Songs on the occasion, by Brian Boru and Grammachree— Sally Jenkinson's moral observations. A WET jacket is thought no more of in Dublin Bay than a wet throttle in a coffee-house. Irishmen do not wear cork jackets, but their hearts are so very light they ahvays swim, and never deig?i to sink', save, and except when they can't keep their heads above water, and they go because they can't stay. Now, whether the upsetting of this boat and party was the fault of the wind, or the sails, or the passengers, cannot be very readily determined ; to bring an action against ^fCoLUS would be of no avail, the passengers regulated all their actions by rule of thumbs, and scorn even Ladge's Thumbo; Law over Tom Evans the Muse, or the narrator has no power. Tom might be a bad helmsman from his upper works being overloaded. It would be vain to call him to an account, for he got droivjied at last in right earnest, LIFE IN IRELAND 171 and lies as snug as a bug in a rug hi Clojitarf church- yard. All the other freight were saved by a boat from the king's ship. Sally Jenkinson could not swim, but grasping with her good right hand the waistbatui of BrL'VN Boru's leather breeches^ she managed to float until Providence, in the shape and dress of a Midship- man, hauled her into a boat, and towed her alongside. ' Ah,' said Brian, ' thanks to my two good arms and the God above, I am safe.' 'And thanks,' said Jenkinson, ' to the waistband of your breeches, I am here and safe also. Och ! ho, ho, who ever thought that breeches^ which were my destruction once, should prove the means of my salvation in a watery extremity!'' Much merriment was excited on board of the ship, at the strange appearance of our hero and his Chere Amie^ but sailors are in the habit of picking up odd fish., and make very light of a droivned rat. They were very soon brought down to the gun-room fire, and thoroughly rigged fore and aft. Brian w^hipt on a jacket and trowsers, and Miss Jenkinson received a fine Purser's frock from the hands of the second Lieutenant, who was distressed beyond measure at her disaster, and swore that she looked so very handsome in ordinary, it was a pity she should ever be ail atanto again. After a jovial supper, in which all the blue and white lads shared ; toasts and sentifnents commenced, for in a man of war genuifie se7iti?ne?it always prevails. Thus, in the first toast, a compliment was paid to the fair Mermaid. — Here 's to the Mermaids that swim, By a man of war's glim. 172 LIFE IN IRELAND The surgeon, who is always a prime fellow on all gallant occasions, gave, Delicate pleasures to susceptible minds. Thus every one drank what he best liked, so when it came to the Midshipman's turn, who (being only invited) is always the last, with a thundering voice he uttered, 'A bloody war and a sickly season,' a toast which was bumpered with avidity, by all abaft the capster7i. The true meaning of the toast may not be known to a Ia7id hibber, and as one of our heroes is now a salt cod, we are bound to explain all that con- cerns him. A Midship7na7i looks for a Lieutenant's death, with as much anxiety and pleasure, as ever Buonaparte anticipated the disgrace of Moreau, — he expects to succeed to the vacancy. A bloody war may carry off the luff; a sickly season, gorged with the Spanish pestilence, or yellow fever, may, perchance, serve him the same sauce, and the middy never thinks that he also may make one in death's journal, for he deems himself unworthy of death's notice, because he does not hold a commission, and would not be noticed by name in the court dead list (gazette) if he dies. Brian and Sally were accommodated with a snug cot in the after gun-room ; to be sure it was rather of grave di?nensions (five feet by two), or like a workhouse coffin, always made of the same length, and if a dead fellow is not ft-able, his head and feet are chopped off and placed upon his armpits. You must lay, said the LIFE IN IRELAND 173 jolly first luff, bread and butter fashion, or as we sailors have it, dab says DariieL We never apologise on board a man of war ; our means of accommodating a friend are always rough and ready, though they may be small, so make the best of your birth. Sally was lifted into the cot by two of the accommodating officers, and Brian untogged, made a spring, he forgot the bed-posts were hung from the ceiling, and conse- quently 110 fixtures \ the event was, that he turned the turtle, and bottom up brought his chere amie, he himself reeling head foremost into the master's cabin ; his heels stuck into the gun-room where Sally laid, bung up and bilge free, amidst the laughter of all the wicked crew. This was not the worst ; in Brian's fall he came in contact with the master's wife's sturnpost, she being of large dimensions, they were obliged to prick for the softest pla?ik upon the deck. Blood and blue blazes, swore old Mrs. Tarpaulin, I '11 send the fellow to hell that dares attack me at my moorings in blanket bay. Brian apologised, but Mrs. Tarpaulin said, that in extricating himself from his perilous situation (by the bye, he was near lobspound, and might have been suddenly ingulped), he laid hold of her front, and tore off those locks, which for years had secured the affec- tion of her husband; she bought them at Foreinan's in Pall Mall, not more than forty years ago, and of course they were to her husband as good as new. Things were soon arranged in the after gun-room, and Brian, with his new found love, rested contentedly till morning was announced by the crowing of the sea cock. T74 LIFE IN IRELAND The boatswain piping all hands ahoy, up sprung Brian, and as the galley fire had been Hghted all night, cloathes were all dry, and Brian Boru with his fair enamorata were again ready to take the field in quest of adventures. At breakfast the doctor in- sisted upon Sally standing bitch in his place, and making tea, to which she agreed, and did the honours of the table handsomely. Good humour prevailed until old Tarpaulin came out, and accounted for his wife's non-appearance, by saying she had lost her front, and a finer one was never seen in Dame-street ; in the course of his complaints, he told our hero that he was no gentlejjian to board a ship in the hotvs, when another was \2Xdi yard-arm and yard-ar?n along side of her. Brian was not up to sea slang, but he understood it sufficiently to ascertain that these words conveyed an insult. This he very properly resented, and a decided challenge took place, to meet at the sheds of Clonta7f. The harmony of the day was not disturbed by this event so common in Ireland, and on board a king's ship of war. At twelve o'clock our party went on shore. Brian having first, by the first Lieutenant's permission, given the seamen a double allowance of grog and ten guineas to hire a fiddler and a French horn. At six o'clock Brian had to meet the old Tarpaulin, and prepared accordingly. First he lodged Sally safely under the care of old Darcy, in Earl Street. And secondly, he bore up for Merrion Square, w^here he found Sir Shawn O'Dogherty anxiously waiting his appearance. He had heard of the upset, and that Tom Evans was drowned, but knew no further; he LIFE IN IRELAND 175 had sat up the best part of the night, and was now in such a humour, that when Brian told his tale, he remarked wath sa7tgfroid, ' I have an excellent pair of hair triggers at your service, and I hope Life in Dublin will not lead to the arms of death.' ' Bedershin,' says Brian, ' we have no time to spare,' so into a hackney coach they bundled, drove to Forrest's in Parliament Street, who putting on his spectacles and trying the locks, gave his opinion that they were in good order, and no gentleman cotild kill with d^ finer pair of pistols. This was sufficient, and upon the dark, gloomy Shades of Clontarf, our bloodthirsty pair alighted, and went to the usual spot under the birch tree, where the bones of hvo hu?idred and fifty Irishvie?i rest in peace, after being killed in quietness for being trouble- some. It is very customary in England to bury bodies under the gallows ; in Paddy's land deaths are so very frequent, and undertakers so scarce, that a regular duel sexton and grave digger is appointed to carry on private business. So accordingly w^hen arrived nearly upon the ground, a decent, well looking, huge boned, grave looking fellow presented his card, w^iich, on inspection, was found to be from TEAGUE SPICK and SPADE, Sexton and Grave Digger, To the Duelling Society of Dublin. Graves dug upon the shortest notice, and gentlemen accommodated w^ith excellent sleeping ground, upon 176 LIFE IN IRELAND moderate terms. Those who are particular as to their body's disposal, had better pay before hand, as most of the good places are occupied, and the dog days coming on, there will be little room to spare. N.B. Fees — A ge?ttlema?i, two shillings, and his CLOTHES, PURSE, WATCH, and pistols included. A Blackguard, five shillings, and his friends may take all that belongs to him. GOD SAVE THE KING. 'This will do,' said Sir Shawn, as he put the card in his pocket, and tipt the old fellow a few tenpennies. 'There's a very snug corner, just beside the gutter, where a dead body can have all its sins washed aivay in the twinkling of an eye,' said Teague, 'and I wait for your honour's orders to be observed in life and death.' Here he exhibited from a kind of caravan, a jumbling mess of blunderbusses, pistols, shot and powder for sale, at various prices, the same as a NEWGATE TURNKEY disposes of the LIGHT and heavy darbys. Brian having no idea of being shot, declined becoming a purchaser, but promised in this world or the next to recommend him to customers. 'I thank your honour,' said Teague, 'for I am in much distress, having been bond for my poor brother, who became coffin maker to the honourable society, and the devil a coffin could he sell, the price between hell and TIMBER being not worth the wag of a tongue, for no gentleman dueller cares much, whether he be damned in a bit of real good Irish oak, or in an old LIFE IN IRELAND 177 hop sack.' At this time our party reached the marked GROUND, and to their great astonishment, Gramma- CHREE caught them by the hands. ' By the piper that played before Moses, and here you are, I heard all about it from Sally Je?iki?ison, and am come to see fair play as I am used to the job.' Gram and Sir Shawn stept on one side, Brian, not being well tised to these honourable affairs, thought them ' Better honoured in the breach than the observances^ not that he was afraid, very far from it, only he wished that he had practised, by a shot or two at his country neighbours in Galway before he came to town ; ' for SAID HE TO HIMSELF SAID HE, I might have brought my hand in, and done some service to my country at the same time ; for instance, I might with ease have shot the , or the , or the , and devil a one would have said, ill you have done Brian Boru : now I am going, unpractised, to fight an old practitioner.' — ' And you'll tip him the lead in style,' said Gram, as he interrupted his musings, by a tap on the shoulder, and announced his antagonist's approach. Compliments as usual passed on both sides, of which the less that is said the better, and as none of them are sincere, why should we report them in a work, where only sincerity has, or can have a perma- nent place. The naval officer came into the field in a determined ?nanner, the gunner's boy attending with a basket full of pistol cartridges, and a horn of priming powder, — M 178 LIFE IN IRELAND Tarpauli?i, in reply to Sir Shawn's intercession, bluntly said, ' he came to fight, and he 'd be damned if he did not ' ; ' and I '11 be damned if I care,'' said Brian, as he took his ground; and pistols were delivered by the seconds. The handkerchief was dropped, and Tarpaulin fell. 'By Jasus he has got his mittimus,' said Gram. 'I hope not,' said Sir Shawn, as he assisted in raising him from the ground. ' Hold me up for another shot,' said Tarpaulin ; these were the last words he uttered. 'His dead lights are up, and skyiigiits dos\i,^ said his second, — ' all up with Tarpaulin, haul him along ; and, gentlemen, I shall be happy to meet you at his funeral, which will take place to-morrow, before seven bells are half struck.' Brian expressed his sorrow. 'For what,' said Lieu- tenant Grog, ' damn me you shot him like a gentle- man, and there's an end on't; what the devil do you wish to kill him again ! ' Sir Shawn, Brian, and friends left the ground as they came, and in haste to give security before the Lord Mayor, in case of a charge being made : but it is a rare thing in Irish Life, when charges are made after the death of a bad shot, and there was now little danger, as Tarpaulin's body was handed on board, stitched up in a hammock, and pitched over- board to feed the Dublin Bay cod, to which Dublin Ladies are so partial. Suffice it, our whole party went to Sally Jenkinson, and having unkenneled her, steered for Morrison's. A fine dinner was ordered, Brian was zvell primed, as predetermined upon, whiskey drives away sorrow, and I ^ ^ s s i' ^ LIFE IN IRELAND 179 the death of the brave was forgotten in the joys of a flowing bowl. Songs, glees, and catches were sported about in high style, and Sir Shawn cut no small figure as a vocalist ; few of the songs are worth being re- peated, as the Irish in general sing extempore, but to gratify curiosity, we shall give a short specimen. SALL JENKINSON'S SONG. TUKE — 'Shakespeare's Hamlet.' Oh, he 's gone, Tarpaulin "s gone, At his head a twelve pound shot, At his heels there V 7?one. This little parody upon a g?'eat author was loudly applauded, and Sally had for her short exertions, a kiss from all the company, and a bumper to her future fortunes. By the bye, Brian seemed not very well pleased at the liberties taken with Sally, he did not know that Game in Dublin was free for any one to shoot at, and Xhsit gulls in white, are as common on the Liffey as blackbirds on the Thames. A smile from Sir Shaw^n told him not to be jealous, and he was at once satisfied, for he looked up to him as an oracle of fashion and information. GRAMMACHREE'S SONG. TuXE— ' Did you not hear of it.' Och, he handled the/' 280 LIFE IN IRELAND entered the subject, and got into the spirit of the thing wasn't it vexing to be lnt7'aptedhy such a useless balder- dash as him, who has no more occasion for a wife than a cow has for a side pocket.' Darby, who had been ail his life used to ' honour and obey,' held his head down upon this occasion, and muttered, he didn't mean any offence, and would take care to do so no more. Here, here, said Brian, giving him a bank note, here is a plaister for your nose, and no more about it. That's for me, said Mrs. Pheely, snatching it from him, and putting it into her bosom ; I '11 buy you a plaister, you crowl of the devil, that shall heal all your ugliness, before you can say strike me lucky. Be off, you Muggletonian, and mix a jug of egg wine for the jontlemen here; and mind do it well, or I'll comb your head w^d the legs of this chair. Darby did as he was directed, and the company laughed most heartily : it was something new to see an Irishman under petticoat government, and one so thoroughly under it as Darby, had never met any of their observations before. How do you manage, said Sir Shawn, to keep him in tune so charmingly ? Och, and I have a very charm- ing broomstick in the bar, wid which I tickle up his phiz. Wid a twiggle and a friz I have used him to it since ever we were first spliced ; and I '11 take especial good care he shall not forget it in a hurry. Darby here came in with the egg, and handed it round with very good grace. Drink, said Brian to Darby, drink, my hearty, and give me your hand ; here 's an end to all animosity, and your wife's good LIFE IN IRELAND 281 health into the bargain. Amen, reiterated Darby; and long life to your Honour, and may you always come off victorious in all your engagements, except when you meet with my wife. What 's that you say about wife, said Mrs. Pheely, with her arms a-kimbo^ and a signifi- cant nod of the head. I just pledged your good health, my jewel, said the affrighted husband, with Boru, and asked him to come down and see us often before he goes to Galway. Faith and I hope the gentleman now he knows our house will often and often come, as I like him better now than I did when he was a baby. And so don't I, said Darby, in a tone of voice which could not be heard. The Lord Lieutenant began to get tired of his com- pany, and invited Sir Shawn, with Brian Boru, to a Castle dinner, which they gladly accepted ; so bidding adieu to Mr. and Mrs. Pheely, they set the jaunting car in motion for Dublin. The Lord Luff, of whom I am now speaking, was a gentleman, and possessed of great good humour: he only indulged in these freaks from whim and frolic : for the same reason he would go into the racket court in the Marshalsea, and have a flyer with any prisoner for a few pots of porter, hit or miss. He was always attentive to his duty, and could, when occasion required, be dignified, and in every respect a Viceroy ; but he did not always like to wear shackles, and in the company of such men as our heroes, he often spent a happy and a careless hour. There have been many worse Lord Luffs, but none better than him ever reigned over Dublin, and gave pleasure to all. His Grace, with his accustomed politeness, invited the 282 LIFE IN IRELAND party to dinner at the Castle, at which they all promised to attend. The jaunting car was abandoned near Carlisle Bridge, by all but Grammachree, who rode on to his lodgings. His Grace bent his way up Dame-street, and our heroes to the Square to dress. It is worthy of remark, the plain and unassuming manner in which the Viceroy mingled with his subjects in the street, in a plain brown suit and top-boots. In the same manner he frequently attends the theatre, and is not to be distinguished from a private gentleman. The writer of this saw him once standing in the Lower Castle Yard, where a Highland Regiment was then standing at ease. A Scotchman observed him taking snuff, and desired a pinch, and he presented his box with the greatest good humour ; another asked him what o'clock it was, which he instantly told him : it is needless to say that the person of his Grace was unknown to the soldiers. Several curious jokes are related of occurrences which have happened to him ; one I have often heard repeated : he walked one summer morning into the China warehouse in Essex-street, and looked at several tea-sets, finally fixing upon one at the price of ten guineas. The woman who attended observed it was the ugliest set in the room, and she thought he had a very bad taste. Pray are you married ? said she. I am, and have a large family. Then my life for it the mistress will blow you up sky high, for sending home such riffraff; I suppose you're a bit of a Tom Molly, and think you do these things better than the women. I shouldn't wonder if you carry the key of the tea-chest in your pocket. Not exactly, replied his Grace ; I have LIFE IN IRELAND 283 other keys to take care of; but send those things home as soon as possible. I want your name and address, said the woman, or how the devil do I know where to send them to ? His Grace took the pen and ink, and wrote on a piece of paper, ' The Lord Lieutenant, Castle.' Imagine the woman's wonder, when at the same instant Colonel Gore entered, and addressed him by his title. A hearty laugh at the woman's confusion took place, and they left her, petrified with astonishment, and cursing herself for a fool. At another time he was riding alone, with a servant at a distance : when he came to the Ladies' Gate at the Phoenix Park, the porter paid no attention to him, not knowing his person. He tried to open the gate, but could not succeed, so ordered the porter to do it, which he did rather unwillingly, and asked him for something to drink his health with. His Grace threw him a dollar. When the servant came up, the porter showed his money, and said, that farmer-looking chap gave me this, and by Jasus I didn't think he was worth the ghost of a halfpenny, in his dirty overhauls. That farmer-looking fellow is my master, and your Lord Lieutenant. The porter expected surely to lose his place ; but he escaped with a reprimand to be more civil in future to all who entered the Park. With such a man there is little form : the dinner party consisted of a dozen heads, the Countess, and her two beautiful daughters. The dinner was sub- stantially good and elegant, such as might have been given by Sir Sha\vn in his own mansion. The ladies retired at an early hour, to the regret of our heroes, who were much taken with their affable and courteous 284 LIFE IN IRELAND manner: indeed Sir Shawn felt a strong impression in favour of the youngest, who for her part did not suffer his elegant person to pass unnoticed. All party was excluded, and the usual toasts bumpered in excel- lent prime old port and claret. Though by the bye, the cellar of the Baronet could have produced better in their kinds, as none in Dublin excelled his taste in such things, though neither a drunkard nor an epicure. Grammachree enjoyed his bottle and friend with true Irish humour, and swore that next to the King his Excellency was the completest gentleman he had ever the honour to be acquainted with. At this time there was a great scarcity of water in every house in Dublin ; the Pipe Water Committee having withheld the customary supply, on account of wishing an advanced price; so that towards evening, when a motion was made for whiskey punch, the Lord Lieutenant remarked, that he was just as ill used as any humble individual, as whiskey was more plentiful in the Castle than ivater. By Jasus, said Grammachree, if I was your Grace, I 'd order them to set every cock running, or else whip them all into Kilmainham gaol upon bread and water for a month. Your ideas are all martial, said his Grace; and it won't do for me to legislate by the gun and bayonet, whilst the law can do it much more quietly and efficiently, without the least trouble. At any rate, the job is one that must be put an end to, as the cruelty of keeping people without water is horrible in the extreme; but, like all public companies in Ireland, they are never content, and their patents are of such a sweeping nature, that they are indefinable. LIFE IN IRELAND 285 Water sufficient was found to mix a few jugs of punch, and mirth was the order of the evening. This was Liberty Hall, and every one was welcome to go when he chose ; so that at an early hour the carriage of the Baronet was at the gate, and the party took leave highly gratified with the day's amusement and the evening's entertainment. Grammachree went home to his lodging, he was too top heavy to be long out of bed, and had just sense sufficient to know what was best for him. Sir Shawn insisted upon Brian remaining at Merrion Square ; he was afraid to trust him alone, lest he slipped into one of his musing moods upon his past failings, for which he frequently said he never would forgive himself. END OF chapter XXIII. 286 LIFE IN IRELAND CHAPTER XXIV Foolish Charity — Morning reflections — Presents for Lady Maca- nalty — A letter to a parish priest— A letter written with a wooden leg — An interpreter on half- pay — An invitation to a review — Irish Poetry — Dean Swift and his hatred of Ireland — A meeting— Remember to forget, a song — Virtues of a demirep —Reasons for being a militia colonel, and soldiers that w^ear their leggins about th^'ir hands. SINCE the misfortune of Brian Boru in being led astray by Sally Stephenson, his friend did not like much to leave him to himself: he possessed strong natura.1 good sense, and but for his attachment to the female sex, would have been a very moral man ; he would not injure any human being, and if he had a fault, it was of being too generous ; in truth, he had no discrimination, and gave alike to the hardy and persevering mendicant, and the modest retiring suppli- cant, who never repeated a request a second time, but retired, dejected and broken hearted. When Brian rose in the morning, he sat down to breakfast, and ordered Mooney to bring him pen, ink, and paper : as he took his coffee, he wrote to his tenants separately, and told them he would renew all their leases at the same rent they now held them, for one and twenty years to come : out of gratitude for their goodness in his recent misfortunes he could do LIFE IN IRELAND 287 no less, — and liad he done more he would not have been blamable, although his prudence did receive a trifling shock from his generosity. He also sent Mooney out to purchase several articles of female dress, which we enumerated in a former part of this work, and which he had promised to send Lady Macanalty, for he still had a kind recollection of the happy hours he had spent with her in the hayfields of Gal way. To be sure his sentiments were much altered, — more refined, if not less chaste; and in the society of such elegant females as Lady Demiquaver, a revolution had taken place in his feelings for the better, as a man cannot too soon get rid of low ideas. Mooney re- turned, and his master was satisfied with his marketing, which was carefully packed up, and directed to the care of the parish priest, and dispatched by the Limerick coach. Some trifles were added from Mooney to his sweetheart, and Brian felt himself relieved from a painful debt of gratitude : it was only neglect that had occasioned it, and now the evil was repaired manifold. The following was Brian Boru's letter to the parish priest : — To Mr. John Swyllywhish, P. P. at Borne Town. To be left at Boru Castle. 'Sir, — I enclose you some drapery for Lady Maca- nalty, as by this time her adorning must be very tra?ispare7if, and you may read all her perfections with- out the help of glasses, which are great dimness of the vision. ' I also send you some small trifles for Patrick 288 LIFE IN IRELAND Mooney's flame, and a silver snuff-box for yourself to say mass in, and put on the communion-table right over the mass-book. ' Pray give Lady Absolutio7i as often and as largely as possible, and offer up a prayer for your grateful ' humble servant, ' and sincere friend, ' BRIAN BORU. 'Dublin City: By the time breakfast was concluded, Mooney entered with an epistle brought by the servant of Major Grammachree, who waited for an answer. Has any accident happened your master? said Brian to the boy in regimentals. No, your Honour, he's mighty well, and just after taking his egg flip for the day, as he has much to go through. Brian opened his letter. By my faith, said he, Grammachree has written the superscription with the stump of his wooden leg dipped in soot. It was not well done, said the half -pay corporal^ who was Grammachree's footman ; and for that raisin my master ordered me to come and explain, that the direction was written by him, and meant for you. A mighty considerate fellow, and I marvel if he wTites to his agent in the same intelligent way. Yes, your Honour, said the corporal, all 's one, for who he writes to the hand is just the same, and I always have a march to explain the contents and their meaning. A very good office, indeed. Oh yes, your Honour, very good beyond expression ; I have nothing else to do but interpret for Major Grammachree these seven LIFE IN IRELAND 289 years that he has been on half -pay. When he was on full pay, I fought by his side, and once saved his life, and he twice saved mine ; and although the Kilmain- ham Lads call me in ridicule ' The interpreter to a wooden leg on half-pay,' I don't care for that ; I would go to the devil to serve my master. I honour you for the sentiment, said Brian, although it is wrapped up in homely language ; and here is something to drink your master's health when occasion offers. May you never be without a Sovereign as long as you live, said the corporal, as he felt the yellow in his palm. Aye, and that Sovereign George the Fourth, replied Brian ; for if he is not a great warrior, he is the greatest gentleman that ever sat on the throne, and a peace- maker, which, corporal, I value more than a war-maker; no disparagement to your trade, which at times and seasons is the staple commodity of this country, and often her salvation. But the letter, your Honour — I suppose you can't read it — No, by my faith, so take it, Mr. Interpreter, and let me know its meaning. You shall have it, said the corporal, ve?-brate him add liter hate him., as the Latin says in Irish translations. ' Morning — Breakfast-time. ' To Brian Boru, Esquire. — My dear fellow, — There is a grand review in the Park to-day ; all the reguhrs in Dublin have a regular turn out, and all the yeomanry are to be suspected by the commander-in-chief at large : there will be some fun, much good science, and a splendid shew : all the fashion will be there. Lady T 290 LIFE IN IRELAND D. is sure to take a whip. I shall be at Sir Shawn's, where meet us, and we will march together, ' your's in the spirit, 'GRAMMACHREE, Major.' Brian took up his pen and wrote — Dear Gram, — I don't care a d — n, If your letter is only a soldier's FLAMJ And the Review turn out only a sham ; But before you have swallowed your usual dram, I will attend you in Merrion Square, Ready on horseback to take the air, In quest of somebody fat and fair. If not in the Park, perhaps I know where. Excuse this hasty doggerel rhyme, It always marches at double quick time ; And if in your ears it does not chyme, You haven't a taste for Irish sublime. I am, dear Gram, with friendship true, Your friend and comrade, Brian Boru, Still ready to give the devil his due ; As a proof of which I write to you : But I 've written enough in a style quite new, So bid you in haste — a short adieu. B. B. To that jolly old Stager, The 7uooden-legg''d Major. The corporal bolted with his orderly ticket, and Sir Brian Boru prepared for his expedition, under the hands of Patrick Mooney. The rhyme that Brian Boru chose to make use of on this funny occasion, was very well suited to the capacity of Major Grammachree; it is a favourite burden of the Irish, from its beinsr ridiculous. I have LIFE IN IRELAND 291 known an Irish Dow7ishire ballad run through forty stanzas, and all ending in rhymes of the same sound, with little meaning, beyond what could be found in the first two lines, or the prose title of the piece. Brian had a little talent at verse, but he often descended to nonsense, merely for the sake of a joke, as in the present instance. He bad the precedent of the great Dean Swift to go by : no man ever wrote more stuff than he did, but then he knew what stuff he ridiculed, or meant to amuse, and cared nothing for it after it had gone from his hands. Apropos, a word of Dean Swift : no man is more talked of by all ranks of Irish-;//*?;/ and women too, yet no man had a more contemptible opinion of his countrymen ; he satirized them unmercifully upon all opportunities, and held them up to the scorn of the world as barbarians and savages. His letters teem with complaints against Ireland, and he calls his resi- dence amongst the Irish 'his banishment' : for my part I should gladly be banished to such a favoured land, in point of climate more mild than Great Britain, in hospitality and friendship superior ; and with men who, in all the nobler virtues of the heart, as much exceed the E7iglish, as the Irish General Wellington does the English General Chatham ; the sleepy descen- dant of a man who was ever awake to the glories and interests of his king and country. Dean Swift had no mercy upon the ladies : he broke the heart of the beautiful and amiable Mrs. Johnson, who had no fault but that of loving a heartless and self-opinionated brute ; and he did the same by Mrs. Vand : his 'Closet of Celia' never was equalled, even 292 LIFE IN IRELAND by the infamous Rochester or Buckingham, for low vulgarity and mfamous falsities : he had no respect for women, and above all he held Irish womeii in a sort of ABHORRENCE and Contempt : yet this man is reverenced by Irishme?t as if he were a demi god : not that Brian BORU took him for a model, except in his rhymes, and these the worst the Dean ever 7nade. Brian soon made off to Sir Shawn O'Dogherty, and ordered Mooney to bring his two bays ; he had saved them from the wreck of his stud, or rather the Baronet saved them, and returned to his friend. The Major had arrived in the Baronet's house, and in full regimentals : he had no horse, but the Baronet had one at his service, and a buckle stirrup of Morocco leather attached to the saddle, to receive his timber toe : he also had a well mounted holster on each side, with a handsome pistol always at his service. A handsome collation was sent up, and Gramma- chree, who had alway his appetite and good spirits at command, ' cut up ' and ' washed down ' with great satisfaction. In addition, said Sir Shawn, to the regulars and yeomanry, I am told the horse police and militia are to be out also ; and, as I am a Colonel, I must be on duty, so all I can do is to introduce you to the field, and return to you after the inspection. Sir Shaw^n was dressed in the full uniform of a Colonel, with his star conspicuous on his bosom ; he looked uncommonly well, and as Lady Demiquaver entered the room, she exclaimed, By my modesty, a handsomer Colonel of Militia will not be on the turf this blessed day of our Lord, than my friend Sir LIFE IN IRELAND 293 Shawn O'Dogherty, Knight, Baronet, and 'arbiter elegantarium ' to all the ton in Dublin. I say, said Brian, tapping her very gently on the ARM, do you forget me ? Forget you, my dear Brian ; yes, I wish I could remember to forget all that has passed betwixt you and me — but I can't. REMEMBER TO FORGET A MORNING PRAYER IN DUBLIN. Think'st thou that I can e'er forget The scene near Dublin Bay ; When first in happiness we met, So pleasant and so gay. Dark o'er us WiCKLOW's mountains threw Their deep and sombre shade ; Before us, drest in ocean's dew, With sunbeam tints array'd, The Hills of Howth, and Lambay's Isle, Appear'd in emerald green ; And Brian Boru's happiest smile Gave lustre to the scene. 'Twas then I gazed upon thee first, And memory lingers yet, With love, although it be aspers'd, I wish not to forget. I boast not sentiment refin'd, To hide my thoughts with skill ; The genuine feelings of my mind I tell with true goodwill. And thou hast blest my candid words — Forget thee — Never — never ; For all the joys this life affords, In ihee are center'd ever. 294 LIFE IN IRELAND ' Bedershin ! ' said Brian Boru ; and the company loudly applauded this effusion of her Ladyship's muse ; she had some playful ideas in her sconce, and she never kept them in very long : she was an ' out and outer,' and in point of fortune and fame had no more occasion to belie her conscience, than the victim going to the gallows without hope of reprieve. Lady Demiquaver had a very happy knack at im- promptu ; and could we forget her little trifling foibles, we might have thought her as virtuous as she was pleasant \ but, in sober seriousness, she took no more pains to hide her propensities than Sally Maclean ; and as to her virtues, as far as charity is concerned, she did not blazon them to the world, but hid them with a miser's care. She was no boaster, and did good in secret, though she made love in p2iblic : of the latter she was not ashamed, of the former she was ; and used to say, that she cared not what the world said of her levities, but as to her charities, she would take care they never should be found out. Here she acted upon a false opinion, for they were sure to come to light, and be eulogised just in the same proportion that her levities were stigmatised. Man- ki?id in Ireland are not so bad but they can forgive a great levity, when it has d, general good ioi its absolution. In London we are not more severe, but more fastidious : there is not a lady who sees Life in London, but would be a dead weight upon Life in Ireland. Hypocrisy is the canker-worm that torments the demireps of London ; it is not known in Ireland, or if known, is at once trampled under foot, and crushed without remorse. LIFE IN IRELAND 295 Let us return where all are in waiting for the review, and ready to start ; hip halloo, and away they go, altogether, one after another, neck and heels, tail up for the Phoenix Park. Sir Shawn started without any ceremony ; he knew the time when to use it : the old jolly Major ran after him on a fine charger, and in high spirits ; and Brian BoRU, as usual, linked and led by the petticoat strings, sent Mooney home with his horses, and suffered Lady Demiquaver to drive him to the scene of action in her curricle. Of long practice, she could take the whip hand of any man, either on the road or out of it; and she had a method of making you believe she never quartered or shared the board with any one, but always drove bang up to the mark her fancy had fixed upon : in truth, she handled the reins with skill, and managed ' Brian Boru at will.' Under her control, Brian had no danger to fear ; she was not the mercenary devil who had bedevilled him out of his fame and fortune; she loved him for himself, and cared for no other for the tijiie : och, mind you, for the time, for she was as skittish as a young filly, and as uncertain as the Venus de Medicis, were she animated, and had her hand at liberty. Brian and her Ladyship rapidly followed the two friends, the military heroes. It must be confessed that Grammachree held Sir Shawn's military talents in the most sovereign con- tempt. How the devil, would Gram exclaim {in his cups), can a militia's officer know anything of storming a battery, besieging a town, or marshalling a whole 296 LIFE IN IRELAND company^ to turn a flank, or make a charge on a battle day, such as Vittoria or Waterloo? Here no doubt Grammachree acted upon the prejudice of an old soldier, who holds in contempt all that are not of the line. For the Irish militia were the saviours of the country during the Rebellion ; and the battle of Ross never had been gained if the Dublin Militia had not bore the brunt of the engagement. To this General Johnson bore testimony ; and he declared, in general orders, that M'Cormach, the man with the helmet, was one of the main causes in saving his army from destruction. This man with the hehnet has never been rewarded by government ; he kept a small shop, and he keeps it still, seemingly content with having done his duty; but have the nation done their duty to him ? No. Sir Shawn O'Dogherty was not ambitious of any reputation beyond that of his private character; he would not, as Sir Tom N and others did, affect to be heroes on the parade, and in the battle field cut and run. He had as much courage as any Baronet in the three kingdoms, but he had no more military talent than Sir John Fielding, the thief-taking magistrate of Queen-square, who said he knew a woman to have been a soldier's wife, because she had a mark in her left arm, which must have arisen from bearing the camp kettle. He loved to see his men in good order, and he gave them plenty of encouragement in the shape of whiskey and potatoes ; but for himself, he never was or could be a soldier, but always was a soldier's friend. But the fact was, Sir Shawn did not affect any military LIFE IN IRELAND 297 talent, he merely commanded the regiment, because he was the first man of consequence and property in the county to which the regiment belonged, and he knew that his example strengthened the ranks, and did good to the national government. He had never been tried in battle, but his courage was undisputed ; and had a chance occurred, he would have led his regiment to the contest with valour, if not with DISCRETION ; and though ' The better part of valour is discretion,' it is not in Ireland that it is so : if the officer is brave, the men will follow wherever he leads. And as a Paddy once said, upon a forlorn hope, to the men who were under his orders as a serjeant — Our officer is going to be blown up, and we must in duty be blown up with him, and so good luck to us all ; the men repeated the Serjeant's words — they marched, and all were blown up together. Sir Shawn's example peopled the regiment with fine fellows; he wanted no emolument, and his men received the benefit of all he received from the govern- ment. A finer set of men could not be seen ; and as Brian drew up at the west of the line, and with Lady Demi- quaver under his arm, marched in front, he declared — 'That Sir Shawn O'Dogherty's Regiment was almost equal to the Gahvay Militia' I never understood, said his fair companion, that the Gahvay Militia was famous for anything but being under the orders of Dick Martin, and going round the country to catch the smugglers. 298 LIFE IN IRELAND Oh, by my faith, said Brian, but they are infamous for that, and have my beneciiction in the form of a curse for all they did to my poor father — many a still of his did they steal and break up, and spill the hot malt. And many a bucky did they intercept, and pull up the cargo on land, which had escaped the perils of the sea. Many 's the bright pound it has been out of my way — but no matter for that, the Gahvay Boys were a fine Troop ; and except some of them wearing their leggins on their hands in place of being on their legs, they are and were as well disciplined regiment as any in existence. We'll believe you, Brian, said Lady Demiquaver, with a little deduction ; for trust me, no Galway Boy ever spoke impartially of his county. END OF CHAPTER XXIV. LIFE IN IRELAND 299 CHAPTER XXV Glory of Ireland — A grand review — Honour amongst rogues — Trip to Deneys — A man throwing his head in the fire — A militia dinner — Miss Ticklespree's workbag — Dabochlish, and the hair- trigger sword — A Song, ' Hail, star of the morning' — A broken leg, and wit in profusion — The ladies, and an Irish jig. Breathes there the man with soul so dread, Who never to himself haih said, This is my own, my native land : Hath not his heart within him burn'd, As homeward he his steps hath turn'd. From wandering on a foreign strand. THESE were repeated by Grammachree as he joined the festive party, and proceeded to point out the beauties of the review. I am not jealous, said the Major, of the sister country's military reputation ; we go hand and glove together in the career of glory, and no enmity can exist between us ; and in love we also go hand in hand — or rather knees and elbows — for we always out- strip the Efiglishmen on that point. Bedershin, said Brian Boru, but I have my doubts of it. — (It may be necessary to remind my readers that ' bedershin,' in English, is ' may be so.') Lady Demiquaver had seen as much service in 300 LIFE IN IRELAND England as ever she had in her native land, and in many instances had English favourites, whom she once loved as sincere as she did her present friend Brian BORU. The lines were now quite formed, and General Barplon came forward and saluted our party. To him the heroine of the company was well known, but not the male hero — to the general nevertheless he was very polite, and kindly introduced them within the flanks. By my soul, said Brian, but we are indebted to this flank or frank introduction to my dear friend, who seems to be as well acquainted with these things as the devil with the merits of holy water. At this time the parade begun, and certainly the scene was very imposing — the numerous quantity of regulars — the militia — and the splendid body of yeomanry, gave a light to the scene that surpasses all description. I would not wantonly praise one corps at the expense of another, but the Black Rock shone in a very brilliant light ; their silver mounted helmets and dazzling equipage never could be eclipsed — whilst it was known that * In peril's darkest day ' they had shone foremost as the ' Bravest of the brave,' and added a wreath to Ireland's glory. The regiment of Sir Shawn O'Dogherty was very good, and gave all his friends satisfaction : what sort of satisfaction was given to the Commander-in-chief he expressed in his general orders. LIFE IN IRELAND 301 The Lord Lieutenant rode along the line, and halt- ing at each extremity, praised the troops. He then returned, took his middle station, and all passed in review and single files before him. He seemed to be much delighted, and as our friend the Baronet passed, he nodded to him with familiarity. The whole parade — for a parade is no more than a review — passed off with applause, and the regiments having been dismissed, all went off to their particular quarters — we trust content and happy. The common parade of a review is nothing ; but when it comes before such people as we have men- tioned, it is something, and ought to be remembered ; not for its military consequences, as the consequences which may hereafter ensue, and the havoc it may make amongst the titled sort of mankind. At the close of the review the Lord Luff gave general thanks to all who had figured upon the occasion ; to this no one had the least objection — and the fine new suit of Sir Shawn O'Dogherty only received the simple thanks of a common soldier. Sir Shawn, as a gentleman and no soldier, was well pleased, as before stated ; he had no ambition, and cared not for military glory ; but he liked peace, quiet- ness, and all the harmonies of human life. The regiments marched from off the field in high style ; but some of the privates, addicted to very privately stealifig, brought the whole regiment into disgrace. Had they been in mine, said Brian Boru, I would have punished them. But a truce with such nonsense; the corps were disbanded, and our party each formed severally, and steered home, Brian Boru 302 LIFE IN IRELAND leading the way in Lady Demiquaver's curricle and pair. The party reached Dublin in fine style, and Brian exclaimed, the best of friends will fall out, and are sure to fall in whenever they please; so what wonder the Ross militia and the volunteers should quarrel about a bit of roguery? I am no advocate for anything dishonest in any man, but more particularly in a soldier, who is deputed and paid by his country to be an honourable man, and is emphatically called a ^ gentlemafi soldier'') that such gentlemen should make free with a ladies shawl or her ridicule, is not much to be wondered at, when we con- sider the ?'idiculoiis way in which some ladies conduct themselves. I remember an acquaintance of mine, worth twelve hundred a year ; she fell in love with a Serjeant, whom she saw on parade from her house in Sackville-street, and admired his fine form, tight leathers, and shining helmet. ' Ah, she lov'd this bold dragoon, For his long sword, saddle, bridle ' ; and something besides, of which I am not at liberty to speak. The event was, the fellow became a gentleman, bought himself a commission wuth her money, kept a mistress, and managed to break her heart in a twelve- month after the honeymoon. Thus spoke Lady Demiquaver, as they drove up to Darey's Hotel in Earl-street, where Sir Shawn had engaged them all to dinner with the mess of the regi- ment. Everybody that has been in Dublin, and heard of Catholic Emancipation, must have seen old Darey : LIFE IN IRELAND 3.0^ he is a tight old ' Milesian,' has twice failed to maV^^ his fortune, and failed in the attempt ; for he is ..■ poor as a church mouse, or a chapel one, for Darey would as leave go to Hell as into a Protestant Church, and worships Counsellor O'Gorman, O'Connell, O'Blady, O'Trench, O'Shaehly , and other demagogues, as devoutly as he does the image of the Virgin Mary, made by Cox^ i?i Westmoreland-street^ and consecrated by old Thomson, the titular Bishop of Sca?ide?iavta, and Parish Priest of Bejiflogtiaphey. Darey at the door bowed his head as usual, just as if he was flinging it in your face, only his neck kept it fast to his ould shoulders, and ushered the party up stairs. By the bye, I must here relate an anecdote of a relation to this man : he was a very gallant fellow, and more fond of the ladies and his bottle, than the mess and his prayer-book. Time, which conquers all things, conquered his constitution, and at the age of thirty he was an old man, with a constitution of seventy. Doctor Rumble had him in charge for some months ; he had glandular swellings, and his neck was much worse than ever the -^ •5«- * * -^^ was when he was Prince of * * "^ "^ "^ and under the care of Harleqtdn Daniels. At length the breaches were outwardly healed, and he had his mittimus given to go abroad, when Doctor Rumble thus addressed him : — ' You are now in a very tolerable state, and may live long, if you only desist from the practice of blowing your nose ; never by any means blow your nose, except into a ''''muck rag'''' ; be- ware of the use of fingers, because the consequences may be such that you will regret them all your life ever 304 LIFE IN IRELAND after, if you have any life left in you for reflection.' — The buck heard all this, but it went in at one ear and out at the other, as a medical man's advice usually does, when given to one who conceives himself in perfect health, and in no want of it at all. A few days after the same gentleman was sitting in company, enjoying a glass of punch over a sparkling turf fire : when his olfactory nerves became tickled, and he felt in his pocket for his ' miickinger' which was unfortu- nately not there, so he squeezed the conduits of his head betwixt his fingers and thumb, and throwing, as he conceived, the oozings of his brain into the fire, to the utter surprise and horror of his friends, he chucked his nose upon the coals, which was heard to murmur. But for the doctor's prohibition, I ne'er had been in this condition. Such things are very common in the hotbeds of DubHn, and ought to be a lesson to all young men who are apt to throw their members in the fire, not knowing the consequences until too late. So the long room were assembled, the gallant Colonel and all his awkward squad, for the devil an awkward set was ever seen equal to the officers of an Irish militia regiment ; here and there you may pick out a well-bred man of broken-down fortune, like a violet upon a dunghill, exposing by its brilliance and scent more particularly the compound of villainous smells by which it is surrounded. There were many ladies of the party, for scarce a lad but had his wife and her six relations in her train, and they all sat down to a sumptuous dinner. Darey knew LIFE IN IRELAND 305 well he had Sir Shawn O'Dogherty for a/^j7;mj-/^^ as well as Colonel, or he wouldn't have sported more than the beggar's dish (in English, Irish stew, in Spcmish, alia podridez), made up from the week's dish, scrapings, and a tough old barn-door beauty. But now all was in apple-pie order, and all were well satisfied. Sir Shawn exerted himself to the utmost, and he had an excellent second in Lady Demiquaver ! nor was Brian Boru idle ; he kept the middle of the long run (Darey's Committee Table) in good spirits ; and Major Grammachree dealt out the spirits most plentifully amongst the spirited lads and lasses at the lower end of the board. The ladies removed into the inner apartment, and the Baronet, who loved close sitting, made a move to the fireside, where a right jovial circle was formed, and the claret vanished like a fountain running into the sea — ' Awful and deep, A blank abyss of drink. ' The chaplain said grace over many a bumper, and the doctor took in the stuff as if it were anything but physic. The younglings were well broken in, and did ample justice to their host's liberality. A toast, said Sir Shawn^,— here is 'what the ladies took out with them,' three times three. What do you mean ? said a little impudent Kilkenny girl, just in her teens, and panting to be out of them ; she had been listening at the door, and opened it with her 'What do you mean ? sure and no one took nothing out but me, u .o6 LIFE IN IRELAND and that was this workbag I hold in my hand before me.' Bravo, cried the Baronet, and made a run to catch the lady, but she showed a pair of Irish, heavy to sight, but quick in rumiiiig, and bolted into the other room to her companions. Many a jest was bandied about on this memorable event, and the Chairman gave, with four times four, Miss TicklesPree's workbag. This IS a standing toast at every genteel table m Dublin, and will be a toast when Miss Ticklespree has laid all her ticklishness with her body in the grave. The Beggars Banison claimed a full bumper, and had it from the heart and soul of all assembled.— Reader, if you want an explanation of this toast, you are not an Irishman ; but apply to the first one you meet, even if he has a hod upon his shoulder, and he will tell you its meaning. 'Lifting of the linen,' and 'the double potatoe bag at a small price and well filled,' were enthusiastically drank; and many other national squibs, which per- adventure the historian chooseth not to relate, lest he should bring himself in contact with a Society for the Expression of Vice. Grammachree insisted upon drinking The Kmg ; and although all party toasts were excluded, it was o-ranted, because he had been a friend to Ireland. Not so much of a friend, said a young Lub, for by Tasus he has set such an example of concihation and forgiveness of injuries, that I fear we shall have no occasion for the militia to kape i\iQ pase any longer. I wish, said the Baronet, your joke may prove a reality but I verv much doubt it, although O'Connell LIFE IN IRELAND 307 is travelling the circuit with a hairy cap given him by the King; our unity depends upon * The ninth part of a hair ' ; and that will be 'cavilled upon/ and suspend a sword of Damocles over our head, which any miscreant can let fall when he pleases. By Jasus, replied Grammachree, and if any Daboek- lish lets fall his sword in this company, he shall take it up again, and measure the length of it wid mine before he goes, and be d d to him. All who understood, enjoyed this blundering mis- take, which was not a little improved, when the Major earnestly requested to know where Daboeklish, the man with the hair-trigger sword, lived, that he might have the honour to call upon him, and call him out for presuming to disturb the company. Seldom do an Irish party meet and separate without a song; so one of the subalterns, at his Colonel's com- mand, tuned his Irish pipes, and struck up '.' SONG HAIL, STAR OF THE MORNING Tune — ' What you please.' Hail, Star of the Morning, That shone on our Island, Dispersing the shadows of night ; From the sheds of Clontarf, To the bogs of Rathfryland, Propelling the stream of delight. 3o8 LIFE IN IRELAND Hail, Star of the Morning, Whose radiant lustre Has thrown a new light on our Isle ; Be thou still our hope, Our stay and our trust here, And though distant, benignantly smile. We saw thee ascend From the dark rolling main, To shine in an Irish sky ; Our tears of regret We could not restrain, That so soon thou wert lost to the eye. Thou hast gone to shed peace On a happier shore, And peace be wherever thou goes ; And if we behold Thy loved presence no more. We'll remember thou heal'd all our woes. May glory attend thee, Great King of the Isles, To support thee shall be our endeavour ; Secure in thy favour, Affection, and smiles, Here 's the King, and God bless him for ever. A bumper, roared all hands, to the ' King, and God bless him for ever ' ; four times four : nine times nine, by the holy poker, said Grammachree, stamping his wooden leg upon the floor with a strength and vehemence that snapt it in tw^ain : this only added to the mirth, when Gram took the splinter in his hand, and beat time on the table, as nine times nine made the welkin roar. LIFE IN IRELAND 309 Now, by my credit, says Gram, as you have it in the song,— ' I must see, for you see I can't stand ' ; and here 's my President's hammer, to knock any one of you down for a song or a toast, or a good story, whenever I choose. Ring the bell, you Tim Shagpole, and be d d to you. 'Tis done. Major. Oh, Jerry, is it you ? Be after taking these materials, said the Major, unbuckling his straps ; be after taking these materials to Stone, the timber inerchaut^ in Dame-street, and tell him to send me, in a pig's whisper, an ebony stumps of the same make, but better stuff, and tell him to put it down to me cheap, for I am a good customer, for every time I get malty, I have a new leg to buy; and by the powers of a militia colonel, it was one of the luckiest things ever happened to me, having my leg shot off; for what an expense in doctor's stuff would it have been, if I had broken a leg of fleshy bloody and bofie^ every time I had the whiskey fever. Away wid you, you green-eyed spalpeen ; pull foot, and make no delay, except you call at Mother Norman's, at the corner of the bridge, and tell her to give you half a pint of the best, and chalk it up to me behind the window shutter. Away went the waiter ; and the Major, now in a talkative mood, continued — I always rendezvous at Mother Norman's ; her husband is an iimbrella maker ; and she has a snug little parlour within the bar, made by three tilbury umbrellas, that just come 'head high,' 3IO LIFE IN IRELAND and keep you from the gaze of the ' standing drop boySj' who pay and go like a ship when moored in Dublin Bay : once upon a time her and I quarrelled ; but that we often do, for the pleasure of being friends again ; and I desired her to send in my bill, as I never would be sheltered under her umbrellas any more. Och, by all the credit that 's due to Saint Patrick^ my boy, an half-pay corporal tould me in the morning a ma7t or two was in waiting below wid a bill from Mrs. Norman. Show him up, says I — show him up; and if it 's all right, I '11 pay it in a shindy ; I keep no account against her ; but the measure of my stomach will enable me to take jiist 7neasiire of her bill. To be sure, the noise on the stairs was like storming a fort of timber stockades in America, and in marched two huge over- gown chairmen, and deposited four folding window SHUTTERS on my Kellybegs carpet. Here, said the speaker, is my mistress's bill ; 'tis all in fair chalk, just as you had it ; and she wishes you to look over it, and settle the amount, for she wants to put the shutters up again, as the parlour looks ugly without them. Bad luck to his ugly mug, there was 2<. poiiyid of good chalk expended upon a bill for one pound's worth of punch ; and I settled the hash, merely to get rid of the bill; 'twas so d d large I couldn't file it, except by employing a file of soldiers to carry it to my cellar, and chop it up for firewood. Bravo, bravo, said the whole company — encore, encore. — If I do I'll be d d, said the Major, enough is as good as a feast. — Och, you 're welcome, LIFE IN IRELAND 311 said he, as he seized the wooden leg and commenced buckhng it on. — 'Tis a mighty line fit, and not above half a foot too long, which is a trifle in leg measuremefit. — Your Honour, says Tim, the kg man says you are so good a friend of his, that he will make you up a score in a wicker basket, at half price, which your servant can carry on his back as aisy as a knapsack. I '11 never say no to a good offer, and I take him at his word ; for as I intend to have a dance to-night with the ladies, possibly I may fracture two or three before I have done. The Major was now once more on his leg, and everything resumed its wonted way. Sir Shawn O'Dogherty proposed to adjourn to the ladies ; Brian Boru seconded the motion ; but the general opinion was, that the ladies had better adjourn to them, which was carried in the affirmative. Brian Boru volunteered to stand Mercury on the occasion, and soon returned, leading in Lady Demi- quaver, followed by a phalanx of subaltern beauty; and last and least, though prettiest. Miss Ticklespree advanced, with her workbag before her; no, it was not to be seen, she had left it behind — no matter : before the merry dance commenced, the health of her work- bag was drank ; and she tasted the claret, in unison with the rest of the company. The tables were now removed, Tom Scott and his three harpers called in, and the merry dance began with true Irish spirit. The dance finished, and so did our friends' frohcs and adventures — 'by the powers,' cried Gram, who had just received intelligence of the famine, 'the Dance of 312 LIFE IN IRELAND Death has commenced — we must away, add our mite to the contributions raising in the sister kingdom, and our exertions to those of the noble fellows, who bury all distinctions, whether national, political or religious, when Life in Ireland is at stake.' Printed by T. and A. Constablk, Printers to His Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press // Webster Family Librar/ of Vstsrinary Medicine CumminG "-^^:y H^edicine at Tufts U"-'' 2G0 Wssii3Qi 0 Fioad North Grafton, PM 01536