THE IRISH ATTORNEY;
or,
GALWAY PRACTICE, IN 1770:
AN ORIGINAL FARCE,
In
BY BAYLE BERNARD, Esq.
(member of the dramatic authors' society.)
as performed at the
THEATRE ROYAL, HAY-MARKET.
correctly printed from the prompter's copy, wfth
the cast of characters, costume, scenic
arrangement, of entrance and exit,
and relative position of the
dramatis persons.
splendid! y iilustrated with an etching,
by pierce egan, the younger, from \ drawing lakhn
during the rkpkefctntailcn.
LONDON :
SHERWOOD, GILBERT, AND PIPER,
paternoster row.
" NASSAU STEAM PRESS,
W. s. JOHNSON, 6, KASSAU STREET, SOHO
DEDICATION.
TO THE MEMORY OF LUKE BERNARD,
ATTORNEY AT LAW, LIMERICK.
THIS REMINISCENCE OF
HIS LIFE AND VIRTUES,
IS VERY REVERENTLY INSCRIBED BY
HIS AFFECTIONATE DESCENDANT,
THE AUTHOR.
iramniaîë aw® ©isi^îtnîwe.
First performed, Wednesday^ May 6th, 1840.
PIERCE O'HARA. (Ut dress J
Scarlet gold-laced coat, cut in the
fashion of 1770, turned up with green,
buckskin breeches reaching to the calf,
with bunches of black ribbons, white
satin waistcoat, low top-boots, powdered
head and queu, conical hat, broad band,
and buckle. (2nd dress.) Black silk
breeches and stockings, shoes with red
heels, and buckles .
JACOB WYLIE. Black velvet
coat, black waistcoat and breeches,
riding boots, cocked hat, and curled wig _
► Mr. Power.
Mr.
Mr.
HAWK. Black coat, breeches, and \
stockings J
SAUNDERS,
poorer
Ditto, but much
StricklA-nd.
Gough.
OxBERRY.
Clark.
ÇHARLCOTE. Green riding-coat, '
laced and turned up with red, satin
waistcoat, breeches, and top boots,
conical hat
Mr. Worrell
M ALDO N. Purple laced coat, yellow "j
satin waistcoat, white breeches, and >Mr. Howe.
riding boots, cocked hat J
FIELDING. Brown laced coat,!
satin waistcoat, white breeches and >Mr. Caulfield.
riding boots, cocked hat J
FARMERS, <^c.
vi.
dramatis person-® and costume.
MISS CHARLCOTE. Powdered
head, black satin hat and white feather,
yellow satin cloak, muslin frock
»•Miss Travers.
SALLY,
mob cap .
Stuff gown looped
i up,1
• • • • • j
Miss Mattley,
Time of representation, one hour and thirty minutes.
explanation of the stage directions.
L. means first entrance, left, R. first entrance, right. S.E.L,
second entrance, left. S.E.R. second entrance, right. Ü.E.L.
upper entrance, left. U.E.R. upper entrance, right. C. centre.
L.C. left centre. R.C. right centre. T.E.L. third entrance,
left. T. E. R. third entrance, right. Observing you are sup¬
posed to face'the audience.
THE IRISH ATTORNEY;
or,
GALWAY PRACTICE, IN 1770.
ACT L
SCENE I.—Mr. Wylie's qßceSj divided into two apartments
by a glass partition at hack, with door in centre^ through
which is seen the outer office and desks of the Clerks, 8çc.-—
—The room in front being Mr. Wylie's, is fitted up with
shelves, loaded with law books and tin deed boxes, and
tables r. and l. covered with papers—A fire-place stands r.,
over which is suspended a map of the county, an almanac,
a sheriffs list, and a gun—Doors open r. and l. into inner
rooms.
Hawk is discovered at a table, writing—Saunders at a desk
in the outer office—and the two rooms are filled with clients
—Farmers and Tradesmen seated or standing, who are
waiting on business.
Hawk. (Giving papers to one.) There, Mr. Biggs, is your
lease, with the clause added to it, about repairs—and, Mr.
Jackson, there's you're mortgage—you've settled with Mr.
Wylie, I believe.
Big. E'es, zur, all be paid for.
Hawk. Very good—good morning.
Big. Good morning, sir. [They go out, another advances.
Hawk. Mr. Ruggles, we can't move in your cause 'till next
term, but we shall lose no time—^we shall file a declaration,
and retain counsel. You need have no fear, sir. You know
Mr. Wylie is too sound a lawyer to advise this action if he
wasn't sure you'd win it.
[Ruggles goes out—A group advance.
Good morning, gentlemen ; come to consult, I believe, about
the right of way over Barnsbury-heath. Mr. Wylie is engaged
8
the irish attorney,
just now, but if you can call when market's over, or in an
hour's time, he'll be glad'to see you.
Far. Thank'ye, zur, thank'ye. \.They aligo out*
Hawk. Phew ! confound these market days, specially about
Michaelmas. What a load of work they give us with their
leases and mortgages ; let's see, there's still that deed to finish,
and the indentures, besides the subpcenas to serve, the dis¬
tress on old Furrows, and the writ against Fielding. Î say,
Saunders
Saunders advances^ mending a fen.
Sau. Yes.
Hawk. The old man's getting on, isn't he ? it's only ten
years ago, he came into the county, and now he has about the
best business in the North Riding, and all owing to his steady-
going habits. Everybody trusts him—Old Wylie, they say,
never puts his hand out further than he can pull it back again.
Sau. Why, even Squire Maldon is come to him at last, and
he is one of the richest landlords in the county, all because
master is such a careful hand with tenants.
Hawk. Yes—it's wonderful what a good name does for a
man sometimes—do you know, Saunders, master's got a
visitor.
Sau. A visitor ?
Hawk. Yes—an Irish gentleman, who came last night.
Sau. And what's he come about ?
Hawk. I don't know, some agency I think, though—I heard
him talk about a cause he'd gained at Gal way.
Sau. Why, he isn't an Irish Attorney y is he ?
Hawk. A^ell, now you mention it, I shouldn't wonder.
Sau. What 1 one of those fellows who are always going to
horse-races and cock-fights ?
Hawk. Exactly so—he looks just the chap.
Sau. Then he's a pretty fellow for an agent—why, he's more
likely to break the law than keep it ; those Irish gentry are
such devils for fighting, they call them fire-eaters. Why, I've
been told. Hawk, that whenever they lose a cause, they swear
it is an insult, and challeng-e the whole jury !
Hawk. Ha, ha ! what fun.
Sau. You know what it means in Ireland when the court
retires to refresh itself.
Hawk. No.
Sau. Why, it's when the attorneys go behind the court¬
house, and have a crack at the opposite council.
Hawk Ha ! ha 1 ha !
JVyl. [Within.J Hawk, Hawk!
Huwk. Eh, there's master coming—he'll be wanting this
brief, and 1 haven't half done it.
[They return to their seats.
the irish attorney.
9
Enter Wylie through r. door, in great coat, top boots, ^c., for
travelling, followed by Sally, with breakfast tray.
Wyl. Place it here, Sally, and tell Mr. Pierce O'Hara I wish
to see him in the office.
Sal. E'es, zur. [She goes through door, r.
JVyl. Hawk ! here's a letter I received late last night from
my client, Mr. Newman—he is on the point of death, and has
made no will, so I must drive over to Ripon at full speed—
Saunders, run and order my gig.
Sau. Yes, sir. [He goes out at back.
Wyl. And Hawk, come here, I have something to tell you
which affects your future interests—you are aware that my
business has increased so much oí late, I have found it im¬
possible to get through it satisfactorily ; you'll not be surprised,
therefore, when I tell you that I have taken in Olpartner.
Hdwk. A partner, sir.
Wyl. Yes, that gentleman who arrived last night—a man
of whose moral worth and high legal attainments I have
received the most flattering vouchers—now, I dare say you'll
be surprised to hear he's an Irishman, knowing what we've
heard of most Irish attorneys—fellows who do nothing but
diiel or fox-hunt—but this gentleman Í am assured is devoted
to business, in proof of which his uncle has not only paid me
liberally to admit him, but has agreed to my inserting in our
deed of partnership a clause providing that, if he should either
ride or race, or fight a duel without my consent, such acts
should dissolve our partnership, and forfeit his money.
Hawk. Indeed, sir.
Wyl. You perceive, therefore, I am perfectly secure in what
I've done, and
O'H. (Within.) In the office, my darling—very well.
Wyl. He's coming—I've something to say to him, so you
can leave us. [Hawk goes into the inner office.
Enter O'Hara from r. door.
O'H. Aha ! good morning to you, my friend, good morning.
Wyl. Good morrow, my dear sir—well, and how did you
sleep ? quite well, I hope.
O'H. Oh, mighty well—the fact is, when I sleep Í pay atten¬
tion to it.
Wyl. Your journey, then, has not fatigued you.
O'H. Oh, no—my fatigue mostly commences when I begin
to sit still.
Wyl. Well, here's your breakfast, and whilst you take it I
have something to communicate—I have told you what occa¬
sions my departure to Ripon, where it is probable I shall be de¬
tained all day. [O'Hara sits down to breakfast.
O'H. Oh, don't hurry yourself—make it ten days if you
a 3
10
the irish attorney.
Wyh Now, whilst the clerks can transact the business in the
office, there is one proceeding I would entrust entirely to your
care. Tve explained to you that one of my best clients in the
neighbourhood is a Mr. Maldon, a gentleman possessed of a
very large estate, and
O'ii. Very capital ham.
WyL Well, sir—Mr. Maldon, yOu must know, is On the point
of marriage with a Miss Charleóte, the sister of a neighbour,
which alliance would have been solemnized ere now, had he
not discovered he had a rival by the name of Fielding, a poor
younger son of a broken-down family, a man, in short, who is
regularly
O'H, (Emptying the tea-pot.) Drain'd out.
Wyl. Just so Î now, as our client feels this interference keenly,
he thinks himself justified in removing this person till his happi¬
ness is secured—he accordingly has got a bill of his transferred
to him for a hundred pounds, which is now overdue, and for
this bill he intends to arrest him.
O'H. Oho Î
Wyl. Accordingly, here is the writ which I have just re¬
ceived from London, duly stamped, and which you must for¬
ward to the sheriff for his warrant, sending also to the bailiff
to bid him execute it promptly.
Enter Saunders/row the hack.
Sau. The gig is at the door, sir.
Wyl. Very well—I have now explained this case to you, and
I entrust it to your hands; the clerks will lay before you
what*s going on in the office, so I leave all to your discretion ;
good morning, my dear sir—Fve no doubt when 1 return I
shall find your prudence and ability have not been overstated.
\He goes off at the back, followed by Saunders.
O'iT. So then, here am T, Mr. Pierce O'Hara, transplanted
from my native country, to the wilds of Yorkshire, to vegetate
like a fir-tree for the rest of my days—by my honour it's barba¬
rous—and to think it's the doing of my own mother's brother,
merely because I had spent all my money, and wanted a few
hundreds to set me up in business !—and that's not the worst :
not only does he exile me from Ireland, but he sells me to a
partner Who has rio more notion of what constitutes a gentle¬
man than one of his own door-scrapers—a miserable gutter-
creeping vermin, who thinks the whole business of life is to be
inking one's fingers for a handful of shillings ; he's had the im¬
pudence to tell me that hunting ana cocking are not pastimes
for a lawyer. There's a Jackeen for you—I've degraded the
O'Hara's by such a dirty alliance; but whaFs to be done, the
bargain's struck, and the money's paid—well then, isn't it my
the ibish attobney.
H
duty to convert the old villain, to show,him the merit of walk
ing like a man, instead of creeping like a reptile ? By my
honour I'll do it, I'll make him a gentleman in spite of his
blood^—I'll teach him the story of the stone and the
ambergris—if he rubs againstme, he shall get some good odour.
Hawk advances from the back with papers.
Hawk. Good morning, sir ; Mr. Wylie desired me to show
you what was doing in the office.
O'H. He's mighty good.
Hawk. Here's an action of trespass brought by one of our
clients against Squire Quicksett.
O'H. Oh, for trespass, is it ?
Hawk. Yes, sir—riding through his garden whilst hunting,
and smashing his hot^house.
O'H. What, sir?
Hawk. Riding through his garden, I say, whilst hunting,
and
O'H. And do you mean to say you'd prosecute a man for
hunting?
Hawk. Of course, sir, if he does damage.
O'H. And you call it damage to kick down a dirty hot¬
house ?
Hawk. Undoubtedly, sir.
O'H. It is, sir ; then hark'ye, young man, if you ever daré
insult me with such a case again, say your prayers before you
do it, for by the soul in my body, I'll
Hawk. Sir !
O'H. Give me that brief, sir—PU be brief with it—no—stop
■—put it in the fire.
Hawk. Put it in the fire, sir ?
O'H. Yes> sir—do you hear me ?
[Hawk walks round him in fronts and stands hesitating
near the fire-place.
Hawk. But—but, sir—^what wiU Mr. Wylie say?
O'H. You villain—if you don't instantly put that paper be¬
twixt the middle bars, I'll throw you on the top one.
[Hawk throws the brief into the grate.
There, sir—that's my record office for such cases—and now,
young man, let me give you a word of warning—I've bought
half your master's practice, and brought him all my cha¬
racter!—do you hear that, sir?—my character, that has
not been used to crawl along by dirty ways or round¬
about methods. I mean to establish this firm upon Galway
principles, upon the old high-blooded, four-bottled, five-barr'd
system, and if you or any man dare to oppose it, I'd advise you
to keep the door open for a start, that's all.
Hawk. I'm sure, sir, I didn't mean to offend-—^
12
ttíe i rish aïtornéy.
O'ií. Well, if you're sorry, that's enough—I forgive you, and
1 o prove your penitence, there's half a guinea for you—go to
the inn, get a bowl of punch,- and
Hawk. Punch, sir ?
0*H. Yes, sir—and if you come back sober, by my soul I'll
discharge you.
Hawk. But what will Mr. Wylie say, sir ?
O'jET. What's that to you, you villain; get along this instant,
and come back drunk—do you hear that—blind drunk—if
you're able to say you're sober, I'll break your bones for
disgracing me. [Hawk goes out.
By my honor, they want Law Reform in this office—I shall
have my work to do here, I see--1
Sau. fin the back offic^.J Mr. Charleóte, sir.
Enter Charlcote from back.
Cha. Mr. O'Hara, I believe.
O'H. The same, sir.
Cha. I have just met Mr. Wylie, who has informed me you
are his partner, and can act in lieu of him.
O'H. Command me, sir, I beg of you.
Cha. My name is Charlcote, and my sister, you may have
heard, is on the eve of marriage with one of your clients.
Well, sir, in the York paper of yesterday appeared a paragraph,
stating as a reason for this marriage, that I had embezzled her
fortune.
O'H. The libellous villain !
Cha. Here's the statement—read it, sir.
[Gives him a newspaper.
I think this is the doing of a Mr. Fielding ; however, I'm re¬
solved it shall be atoned for, so I desire you instantly to serve
the editor with a notice of action.
G'H. A what ?
Cha. A notice of action.
O'H. Poh, poh 1 that's not the thing !
Cha. No ?
O'H. No—haven't you been insulted ?
Cha. Certainly.
O'H. Well, then isn't your remedy in two shapes. If the
editor's a gentleman, you'll call him out, and if he's a black¬
guard, you'll cudgel him.
Cha. Cudgel him ?
O'H. What else?
Cha. But, m> good sir, that's against the law.
O'H. The law—devil take the law, what's the law to do wit
justice ?
Cha. Then you would actually recommend me either to beat
the fellow or challenge him?
THE IRISH ATTORNEY.
13
O^H. Of course I do—and if you want a second, I'm your
man !
Cha. Well, really, this is the*strangèst person for a legal
adviser !
0*H. 1 give you my honor, sir, it's our system in Galway,
and there isn't a spot in the world where people are sooner
satisfied.
Cha. Then you come from that country?
O'ff. I do, sir—it's the great nest of the O'Hara's, where
they've all been hatched and taken wing, since the time of the
deluge. Ah, sir I I wish you could see our old family house,
with its brown oak wainscoats, hung with powder-fiasks and
dog collars, and its fine old furniture—none of your French
gimcracks, but all as old as the ark and as sound as the land—
we haven't a table that won't bear stamping on, nor a chair
you can't throw at a friend without fear of breaking it.
Cha. That's convenient, certainly—but what odd sort of
people you must be to
O'H. People! By my honor, sir, they're the best people
in the word—they're so fond of doing good, there isn't
one of 'em but would watch a whole week by the
bed of a sick friend, and take half his physic. Féllovvs,
sir, that would drink with you all night, and fight with you in
the morning—none of your " half-mounted" gentry, but all
gentlemen to the back bone.'' Blood—blood, sir—not one of
them but can drink his four bottles and leap his five bars !—and
thenthere's such variety—you may gotoaman's house one week,
and meet as snug a set of fellows ps ever ladled out punch,
and come there the week afterwards, you'll find them all dead
and buried, and a fresh set of divils invited in their room.
Cha. And amidst this society you were brought up to the
law.
O'H. Yes, sir—it was an easy-going life, and I had great
advantages in my father ; you may judge of his genius, sir,
when I tell you, that before I was sixteen, I could nick a tail,
prick a vein, or give a drench with any man in the country ; 1
could draw a house, a horse, and a game cock, tin a saucepan,
rim a wheel, play the fife, dance a jig, and crack a skull at
quarter staff. Having thus far completed my education^ I went
to London to be articled, and coming back to Galway, I de¬
voted five years to the practical study of my profession ; and if
drinking all night, sir, and riding all day, can make a man a
lawyer, then, by my honor, sir, though I say it, I ought to be
Lord Chancellor.
Cha. Ha, ha ! Well, I shall consider what you advise and
see you again, so for the present, good morning, Mr, O'Hara.
O'H. Sir, good morning to you.
[Charlcote goes out at back.
A very pleasant fellow that—I must know more about him—
14
the irish attornet.
I havç let him see the way I mean to do business herè~and,
murder and fire ! what will I do now>—a whole day to be coop'd
up here amongst red tape and wafers, without a horse, dog, or
gun, or a friend to crack a bottle with—I'll be dead before the
morning, that's certain j if there were a pair of fowls now in the
garden I could persuade into a fight, or a horse in the next
field I could tumble over the wall with ! (Sees' the gun over the
fire-place.) Eh! pililew ! a gun, by all that's glorious ; here's
deliverance at last^ (He takes it down) It's got a mouth like a
street-door, and a barrel crooked enough to fire up a staircase ;
but never mind, I've plenty of ammunition in my bed-room,
and as the window looks out upon the garden, by my honor
I'll go and commence an action against the old fellow's pigeons.
[He is going off through r. door—A loud crash is heard
out side i and a scream.
What the divil's that ?
Saunders runs in.
Sau. Oh, sir, sir !
0*H. Speak man alive—^what's the matter ?
Sau. A post-chaise has overturned at the door, with a lady
and a gentleman.
0*H. Well, sir—do they say they're killed, or only speechless?
Sau. The gentleman's got out, sir, but the lady's fainted.
O'H. Then, you murdering villain, why didn't you run
to her?
Sau. There's some one coming in, sir.
Enter Fielding, carrying in Miss Charlcote, senseless.
Fie, You will pardon.this intrusion, but you see my excuse—
a lady stunned—almost killed by this accident—may I trespass
on your kindness for a chair, for something to revive her ?
0*H. Of course, sir—anything you like—an angel, by all
that's beautiful!—will you have some brandy, sir, or a little
Drogheda Usquebaugh?—it's a specific with us, sir, in all cases
of weakness—if it doesn't cure a man in a week, it kills him in
six hours.
Fie. Anything you please.
O'H. Well then, Teddy, you divil, run to my bedroom, and
—stop, there's a sofa in the next room, will you take her in
there, sir, and I'll send for a doctor.
Fie. A thousand thanks—this is kindness indeed.
[He carries her into the room, r.
y
O'H. By my honor, she's a cherub, that's the truth—she's
got a face that would move a suit in any court in Christendom
thé irish attorney.
15
'—here, you villain, leave off scribbling and run for a doctor,
do you hear, or—stop, stop, I've got a fleam in my pocket—I'll
breathe a vein with any man in Yorkshire—I'll go to her my¬
self, and
I
Fielding returns.
Fie. t*m happy to say, sir, my young friend is not injured—•
she'll be able to proceed in a few minutes-—I've now only to see
the post-chaise put to rights, and
Saunders advances.
Sau. One of the horses is killed, sir.
Fie. Killed !
Sau. And the post-boy is so stunned, he can't sit up.
[He goes out again.
Fie. Merciful powers ! then I'm ruined.
O'H. Ruin'd!
Fie. And I not only^ but one who is dearer to me than my life
[He sinks into a chair. «
O'H. Sir, I'm delighted to hear your statement.
Fie. Delighted !
0'£r. Yes, sir—since it's clear you want a friend—and here's
myself that's got nothing to do in the wide world, and will
thank you for employment.
Fie. Is it possible !—may I then trust to you my secret ?
O'H. By my honor you may, for as a secret's a thing I can
never remember, no one, I think, can more faithfully keep it.
Fie. Then I'll have no reserve^—with that lady ii\ the next
room, sir, I have eloped,
O H. I thought so.
Fie, The tyranny of her brother drove me to this step, and
the machinations of a villain, who has gained his confldence—^
a man, sir, whom she loathes, but who, to possess her, cares
not what misery he inflicts.
O'H. And what's the name of this scoundrel?
Fie. Maldon, sir.
0*H. Maldon ?
Fie. Her brother's name is Charleóte.
O'H. And your's is Fielding?
Fie. It is, sir?
O'H. Then if I'm not mistaken, here's a bit of paper which
concerns you. (Shews him the writ.J
Fie. A writ ?
O'H. Only waiting for the sheriff's warrant to take you to
York Castle,
Fie. Merciful powers ! then you are——
O'iî. Mr. Maldon's attorney, sir.
16
the irish attorney.
Fie. Whose business it is to arrest me ?
O'H. Exactly so.
Fie. And you will do so—you, to whose roof necessity has
driven me.
0*H. Now, was ever a man so grossly insulted—I arrest
you ! by my soul, sir, if you say that again, I'll demand satis¬
faction.
Fie. What am I to think, then ?
Ö'H. What ! why that a man's being a lawyer doesn't make
him a blackguard ; there goes the paper into my pocket, the
best deed-box in the office, and
Fie. You exempt me from arrest 'till my happiness is
secured ?
O'iî. Of course, I do.
Fie. Ah, how ami to thank you?—but words are useless^—
some other time I'll prove my gratitude by deeds—no doubt at
the inn I can get another chaise, and
[Going to the back^ he stops.
What do I see ! j
0*H. What's the matter ?
Fie. As I live, 'tis Maldon himself dismounting at the inn—
my fears are confirmed then, he has pursued me.
O'H. He has ?
Fie. He, no doubt, and Charleóte—^how can I avoid them ?
O'H. How? why, whenever I want to avoid a danger, I
make it a point to meet it plump in the face.
Fie. What do you mean ?
O'H. This fellow is pursuing you, and you want to stop
him—well, nothing can be easier—hit him in the shoulder,
and lay him up for a month.
Fie. Fight him ?
O'H. Of course—do you write a challenge, and I'll carry it.
Fie. But I've no pistols.
O'H. But I have—no attorney in Ireland travels without
them ; a corkscrew and pistols are my law authorities.
Fie. Still, sir, I
O'H. Oh, don't fear their missing—mine are hair triggers,
and in capital order—by my honor, if they could speak, they'd
thank you for airing them.
Fie. But wont it seem strange for you to carry a message—
you, who are his own lawyer ?
O'H. Not at all—that saves the trouble of an introduction—sit
down and write it, man, sit down, 1 say—if not for your own
sake, do it for mine—think what a luxury 'tis to a man of my
profession—I haven't snapped a trigger for upwards of a
month, and, by my honor, I'm half dead for want of the enjoy¬
ment. [Fielding éts at the table and writes.
Fie. Well, if it must be so
O'H. Aha ! that's right—now we shall settle the scoundrel
presently—pililew! My senses begin to revive—I smell
the' irish attorney.
17
powder—if I eould but get up a fight here once a fortnight, T
might be able to endure the country.
Fie. There, that will do, I think.
O'if, Do!—Crow Ryan or Amby Fitzgerald could not have
written it better—now go and comfort your darling ; tell her
you're going for a chaise—not a word about the villain, leave
him to me, and if I don't settle him, never trust your honor
again to one of the O'Hara's. [He runs out at hack.
Fie. This seems to me like a dream—that accident should
take me to the house of my enemy's attorney, and that I should
find in him a friend to pity and defend me—I'll carry this good
news to Ellen, and then go to Ripon for a fresh conveyance.
[He enters door r.
Hawk returns from the back, half tipsy.
Hawk. Why, I can't believe my senses—Mr. Fielding in the
house, and Mr. O'Hara, instead of sending off the writ, to put
it in his pocket. What will old master say when he
comes back ?—what will the Irishman say ? My ambition
through life has been scrupulously to obey my instructions ;
and here am 1, not half so drunk as 1 ought to be—well, it's
not my fault, I wanted time—I never began a brief with more
attention than I did—that pint of punch, and if I had only had
time, I could have ewgrmed a gallon.
Mai. (Heard without.) Mr. Wylie within ?
Hawk. Eh! why, as I live, here comes Mr. Maldon; what am
I to say to him ? I mustn't tell him what has happened.
Enter Maldon from the back.
Mai. Mr. Wylie's gone to Ripon, it seems
Hawk. Yes, sir—he was called away quite suddenly to pre¬
pare a will, but he left this letter for you, sir.
[Maldon takes and opens it.
Which—which I was going to bring to you
Mai. Very good—-he says here, the wiit was issued this
morning.
HawK Y—es, sir.
Mal. And that before night, Fielding will be taken.
Hawk. No doubt of it, sir.
Mai. Then my fears are all at rest—the sum's so heavy, he
can scarcely find means to pay it ; 'twill remove him for at
least a month, and in that time Ellen must be mine.
Hawk. (Aside.) Now, if Mr. Fielding should open that door.
Mai. By the bye, I wish to write a note to my friend Charl¬
eóte ; he has a horse to run a race to-day close by, so J know
he's H the neighbourhood.
[He sits at the table and takes paper.
18
the irish attorney.
iy H. (Heard outside.) > No luck, by my honor.
Hawk. (At the back.) Ehl why I declare here's Mr. O'Hara
coming back. Well, as his superior standing has made all this
confusion, I leave it to his superior genius to^ get out of it.
[He goes through r. door.
Re-enter O'Hara, breathless.
O'H. Phew I was ever anything so cruel !—I've missed the
fellow at the inn, and divil knöws where I am to find him—
by my honor, it's heart-breaking—here's as pretty a challenge
now as ever was penn'd, and no one to give it to !
Mai. (Finishing his note-.) " Yours faithfully, James
Maldon."
O'H. Maldon—Maldon is it? I beg pardon, sir, is that
your name ?
Mai. It is, sir.
O'H. Then here's a little note, sir, you'll oblige me by look¬
ing over.
Mah A challenge! and from Fielding ?
O'H. You've a discerning mind, sir.
Mai. Sir, this is impossible—this gentleman by this time
must be in York Castle.
O'H. He might have been, sir;
Mai. I say he sir—a, writ was issued against him to-day
by my lawyer.
O^H. Which writ, sir, I took the liberty of stopping
Mai. You?
O'H. I
Mai. And upon what authority ?
O'H. Upon that of your lawyer's partner, sir, who, having
bought half his business, takes all the responsibility.
Mai. Betray'd—and by my own servants I Infamous—'tis
beneath me to exchange a word with you, but 1 hold you re¬
sponsible for the debt he owes me, and shall choose another
time, sir, to call you to account. [He goes off at back.
O'H. Murder and fire !—^then there's no fight after all. What
have I done to provoke this cruel destiny—by my honor, I
shall stagnate, I feel my blood begin to curdle—^^^ùll no one
take pity on an expatriated Irishman, and help him to sustain
the heavy burthen of existence !
Enter CHARLCOTE/rom the back.
Cha. Good day, sir, again—I thought Mr. Maldon was here.
O'H. (Aside.J Eh ! here's her brother come—I wonder now
if he'd oblige me.
Cha. And yet, what use is there seeking him, he can't ride
the mare, she'd throw him to a certainty.
O'H. (Aside.) He's come after his sister, that's plain
enough.
THE IRISH ATTORNEY.
19
Cha. (Aside.) And to lose the race in this way, with the
stake so heavy !
O'iî. Well, I may as well let him know my mind at once»
Sir, I presume the object of your visit here is now no secret*
Cha. None whatever—Pve backed my mare to-day for a
thousand guineas, and within half an hour of its coming oíF,
inyJockey has been taken ill.
O'i/. Your jockey?
Cha. Yes—the only man in Yorkshire who can ride her.
O^H. I beg your pardgn, sir, I don't like to commit myself
by precipitate assertions, but I beg to say that if your horse
was a hurricane^ there's another man can ride her, and that's
myself.
Cha. You?
0^H. I—I thank heaven my education has been so well
attended to on that point, I can ride anything that possesses a
back, and if it happens to have but three legs, I can help it to a
fourth.
Cha. But—but, of course you couldn't oblige me on this
occasion.
O'H. I couldn't?
Cha. It—it would compromise you as a lawyer.
O^H. As a lawyer ! why, man alive, no man in Ireland can be
call'd to the bar till he has gone over twenty ; the necessary
steps to his entering the profession, are two fights and a
steeple-chase.
Cha. Then do you mean to say you'll ride my mare ?
O'JY. As sure as sunrise—^when is it to come off?
Cha. In twenty minutes.
O^H. And what's the weight ?
Cha. Twelve stone.
O^H. Mine to an ounce—I'll get my cap and whip and
be with you in a jiffy.
Cha. And afterwards you'll dine with me.
0'H. To be sure I will—and drink with you till you're under
the table.
Cha. Very well—then I shall expect you on the field in
twenty minutes. [He goes out at back.
0*H, By my honor, this is a windfall—I've got some work
upon my hands at last—something to do in the way of my
profession. Ah ! if that old thief knew how I was working
for him, if he knew how I was slaving for the good of the firm
—Mr. Charlcote's blopd mare, rode by Mr. Pierce O'Hara, for
a thousand guineas aside !—if that doesn't demonstrate my
claims as a lawyer, I want to know what will ?
Enter Hawk from the back.
Hawk. If you please, sir, here's the deputation from Barns-»
bury come to consult with you.
20
the irish attorney.
O'H. Very good—then just to assist the consultation, you'll
be kind enough to tell Sally to bring my jockey cap and
jacket
Hawk. Your jockey cap and jacket ?
O'H. Yes, sir—did you hear me?
Hawk. But—but, wont you speak to the clients, sir.
O'H. No, sir—I'll not be dirtying my fingers with any of
your rascally proceedings—if they are to be cheated, do it in
secret, sir.
Hawk. Cheated, sir ? their case is a public one—they're a
body of patriotic yeomen, who are resolved to defend a right
of way over Barnsbury-heath against the Lord of the Manor.
O'H. They are ! then honor go with them, and good luck to
boot—that's another matter ; you go and fetch my things, I'll
attend the deputation. By my faith, I thought it had been
some eel-skinning business, only fit for my partner—but a
body of enlightened patriots, sons of a free soil, defending the
rights bequeathed them by their fathers—by my honour, that's
a good subject for a speech. Shew them in, Saunders.
Enter Saunders with Farmers.
Sau. This way, gentlemen, this way.
O'H. Gentlemen, good morning to you, I'm delighted to see
you. Saunders, Where's the case?
Sau. Here, sir.
\Hegives O'Hara papers—The Farmers range them¬
selves before him.
O'H. Very good—Gentlemen, I am importantly engaged this
morning upon county business, but I have {looking at his watch)
eighteen minutes to spare, and shall be happy to give them to you.
Gentlemen,—having glanced over your case, I would begin by
observing, that law, as you all know, is neither as rapid as a
race-horse nor as cheap as oysters ; 'tis an evil which we must
all do occasionally, that good may come-^we must do it, gen¬
tlemen, it not for our own sakes, for our posterity; though, to
be sure, you may say what has posterity ever done for us ?
That's true, gentlemen, 1 admit the force of that, though, at
the same time. I would draw this distinction, that, by the term
posterity, I don't mean our ancestors, but that honourable class
of men which comes immediately after them. Having thus,
gentlemen, laid down the principles of law in general, let me
proceed to apply them to the case at issue. This is a question
of a right of way ; now, of a right of way, you are aware there
may be three kinds. There may be a way through a gate in
the manner of a man, or over a gate in the manner of a horse,
or under a gate in the manner of a weazle. Again, gentlemen,
there may be high-ways and by-ways, straight-ways and
the irish attorney.
21
crooked-ways, and, as in the case of your landlord,
d—d dirty-ways. But, gentlemen, which ever way it is, if
you think it is your right, I presume you will in no way re¬
sign it—I'll not insult yoii with the suspicion : gentlemen, this
is a subject in which T can't restrain myself to ordinary words.
I feel inspired by the ai'dour of the Roman Cicero, when ap¬
pealing to the Senate, in that great oration against Cataline,
which you must all so well remember—he sprung to the Forum
and exclaimed. (Jumping on a chair, puts one foot on the table.)
He sprung to the Forum, I say, and cried, (looks at his watch),
Saunders, you villain ! ^^ere's my coat ? You Conscript
Fathers, August Senators ot Rome, to you I pour forth those
burning phrases, "-Eg'o sum Romanus Civisalso am an
Irishman ; our land is invaded, shall we not defend it? our
rights are threatened, shall we not preserve them ? on you I call
to rise up from your curule chairs, and with one voice
cry out
Charlcote runs in from the hack.
Cha. Time's up, are you ready?
O'H. Yoicks! yoicks! I'm your man—Galway for ever Î (He
tumps from the table, throwing off his coat.)
[Sally at the same moment runs in with his jockey
jacket, and Hawk with his whip and cap—he slips
them on.
Now, Conscript Fathers, Senators of Barnsbury, I m going to
ride a race, will you come and see it ?
[The Farmers send up a shout—The trumpet sounds
outside, to weigh—O'Hara runs out with Charl¬
cote, waving his whip, the Farmers after him.
end of act i.
22
the irish attorney.
ACT IL
SCENE I.—The offices as before^ but in a great state of confu¬
sion, chairs upset, papers, books, and boxes strewed about the
floor—Time, night,
hawkerwrf Saunders discovered seated.
Hawk. I say, Saunders, what's o'clock ?
Sau. Ten—it's just striking.
Hawk. Ten o'clock, and the governor has not come back
yet—^well, when he does come, what are we to say to him ?
here has this Irishman ruined the day's work, destroy'd a
brief, dismiss'd a deputation, and let the firm in for Mr.
Fielding's debt—I wouldn't care if he bore the blame himself,
but old Wylie is so suspicious, he'll swear I had some hand in
it. I wonder whether he'll be back to-night—-if he shouldn't
till to-morrow, his partner will be home by that time, and they
could fight it out between them—-half-past tén, it's not very
likely—no, I think it's all right—all safe—all
Wyl (Outside.) Hawk! Saunders!
Hawk. Mercy on us, there he is.
Sau. Yes, here he is, at last, and looking precious sour-—
what yvill he say, when you tell him all that's happened ?
Hawk. And what will he do ? he'll murder both of us !
Sau. Do you think so ? then I wouldn't tell him-—I'd go to
bed, and let him find it out.
Hawk. A good thought—so we will, Saunders ; and, I
say——
Sau. Mum, here he comes.
Enter Wylie, from the back, in his travelling dress as before,
Wyl. Why, Hawk—Saunders, how's this, is your work over
so soon ?
Hawk. Ye—s, sir—it's been all over with us for some time.
Wyl. Well, I'm glad to hear it, that shews you've not been
idle ; and Mr. O'Hara
Hawk. Oh, he's not been idle either, has he Saunders ?
the irish attorney.
23
Sau. No, fir—^he's done a great deal to-day.
Wyl. Well, I'm happy to hear that—^he's at home, of
course ?
Hawk. At—at home, sir ?
Wyl. Yes, at home.
Hawk. No, sir—I think he has stopp*d out.
Wyl. To see a client ?
Hawk. Yes, sir—Ï think it was about some proceeding
(aside) on horse'hack.
Wyl. A case lying in the country ?
Hawk. Yes, sir, (and half way across it).
Wyl. Well, I dare say he's got over the ground rapidly.
Hawki No doubt of it, sir (he won the race in seven
minutes).
Wyl. Well, Hawk, as it's so late, and I'm very tired, I wont
detain you any longer.
Hawk. (Aside.} Thank heaven !
Wyl. So you can get your supper ; and, Saunders, you can
close the office.
Sau. Thank'ye, sir.
Hawk. (Aside.) Saved my bones, by Jupiter.
[Saunders goes out at backt ctnd closes miadle door—
Hawk through door, r.
Wyl. Come, my partner's steadiness to-day is gratifying—I
confess I'd some misgivings on leaving him this morning,
knowing the school he was brought up in ; I was afraid, despite
his uncle's statement, he might still retain some leaven of his
country, but this news removes all fears, so I'll go and have
my supper, and by that time I dare say he'll be in—stop, I
think I may as well first look over my memorandums. (Going
to the table, r., with papers, he draws a chair.) It's very cool
to-night—is there any fire here ? (He looks into the grate) Eh!
why the grate is choked up with paper. What have they been
burning here ? (He takes up the remnant of the brief.) What's
this? here's a remnant of a hundred folios—^this must be
something valuable—here. Hawk, Saunders !
Enter Hawk, r.
I
Hawk. Did you call, sir ?
Wyl. Yes, sir—bring here that candle. What's this.'
(Reads.) "Ruggles versus Quickset," why, it can't be the
brief.
Hawk. The—the what, sir?
Wyl. The brief, sir—thrown into that grate and burnt to a
iinder.
24
THE IRISH ATTORNEY.
Hawk. Is—is it, sir?
Wyl. Is it, sir—yes, sir, what does this mean ?
Hawk. I'm sure, sir, I don't know—I—(aside)—I'm a dead
man !
Wyl. Who threw it there ?
Hawk. W^ho, sir?
Wyl. Speak, you rascal, or I'll strangle you !
Hawk. Mr. O'Hara, sir.
Wyl. Mr. O'Hara ?
Hawk. Yes, sir.
Wyl. And for what reason ?
Hawk. Because he said it disgraced us.
Wyl. Disgraced us ?
Hawk. I went down on my knees to stop him, sir—but
Wyl' But the writ—he sent that of course ?
Hawk. No, sir, he didn't.
Wyl. No !
Hawk. He said that disgraced us also.
Wyl. Fielding not arrested ?
Hawk. No, sir—and what's more, the deputation from
Barnsbury
Wyl. Well?
Hawk. He dismissed them without a hearing—and they're
gone to another lawyer.
Wyl. (Dropping into a chair.) Why, I'm ruined 1
Hawk. I was afraid, sir, to tell you when you came in,
but —
Wyl. Oh! fool, fool—and for the poor bait of a few hun¬
dred pounds, I've tied myself to this im^iostor—^where is he
now, sir ?
Hawk. He's dining with the hunt, sir.
Wy¿. With the hunt?
Hawk. Yes, sir—he rode a race to-day, and having
won it
Wyl. Rode a race—^why I'm disgraced eternally. This is a
blow no dozen firms could stand under—the impudent villain
—but, Mr. Maldon, has he been here ?
Hawk. Yes, sir; and left this note for you.
Wyl. My brain whirls. (He tears the note open.)
Hawk. (Aside.) That's lucky, if his bîain whirls, his stick
can't.
Wyl. He says here, the only condition on which he will
forgive his treatment, is that Í instantly dismiss my partner
Hawk. Dismiss him. sir ?
Wyl. Yes—how shall 1 act-r—Maldon must be pacified—must
be obey'd—^there is but one way—I'll go to this Irishman, de ¬
mand an interview, charge him with his baseness, and^——
[A loud knocking is heard at the back.
the irtsh attorney.
25
What's that.^
O'Hara in the outer oßce.
T"T
O'H. Hallo! you villains ! shew a light here.
Hawk. It's Mr. O'Hara, sir, comeback.
WyL That's fortunate—I'll meet him, then—meet him in
the office, whose good name he has traduced, and brand
him '
O'Hara sings at the lack.
Ho Ro, it's the sup of good drink.
Ho Ro, it's the sup of good drink.
If I had a shilling wrapp'd up in a clout.
It's the sup of good drink that would wheedle it out.
Hawk. I'm afraid he's rather tipsy, sir.
Wyl. Tipsy 1 he's roaring drunk—after outraging my clients,
he's come home perhaps to murder me—I'll not meet him ; yet
this note must be answered first, so I'll write it in the next
room ; you, Hawk, shall carry it—and then to settle this
Irishman,
[//i? goes through door, r., followed by Hawk.
O'Hara staggers in from the hack, whip in hand, singing.
O'H. Whoop, ho ro! why, you villains, where are you all?
lights out, office empty—is this the way you attend to business ?
are these the habits of order and propriety required by our pro¬
fession—you dissolute vagabonds, I'll take my oath you're getting
drunk and disgracing the firm. Hexe, whilst I've beenslavingfor
the good of the house, have you been spending my money and,
ruining my character. Ah ! it's lucky for that old thief, my
partner, there's some one in the firm to stick to business—
whoop! tally-ho ! (fJe cracks his whip and imagines himself on
horse-back.J Asy, asy, now, my beauty—don't strain yourself
at a dirty gutter, only ten foot across—isn't there a wall before
us, seven feet high—do you see it—now? don't jump till you're
under it—no w, down with your nose, up with your legs, and—
whoop ! by rny honour, she's cleared it—seven hedges, five
ditches, two pig-styes, and a cow-house, and all upon one little
bucket of water. By my conscience, I think if she'd a tum¬
bler full of punch, she'd go over a church—whoop ! who's afraid
-—chair, chair, chair—order, order. (He leans against the ta' le
and bows.) Mr; Chairman, and gentlemen, for the honor you
have done me in drinking my health—I return rou my
acknowledgments—I shall remember it, gentlemen, to the latest
hour of my life, and, give me leave to add, much later—and I
beg to say, gentlemen, on resuming my seat (He stum¬
bles back, and falls on the ground.) Ha^ ha î'Tve been knock'd
B
26
the irish attorney.
down for a song—how very odd—I was not aware till to-day
that the county of York was subject to earthquakes—a very
great calamity, but such is the fact, for, as I came along here,
strange to say, the ground rose up every now and then and hit
me in the face—a very singular phenomenon, very singular.
Well, here I am at home, though not in bed—^never mind, if I
can't go to my room, my room will come to me—I'll prove that
philosophically—according to Newton the earth is round, and
is constantly turning, consequently I've only got to lie quiet
and hold up my key, and as the earth is always turning, it will
bring my door to me.
Sally comes from door^ r.
Sal. Deary me, zur, you beant hurt, be ye ?
O'H. I an't what ?
Sal. You beant ill.
O'H. Ill—to be sure I am, and I laid on my back !
Sal. And what be the matter wi' ye, zur ?
O'H. Oh, it's a dropsical complaint—I've got water on my
chest—the blackguards where I've been dining have diluted the
punch.
Sal. Nau, did they, zur ?
O'H. They did, the villains—though I'd tossed off no more
than four bottles of claret.
Sal, Why, la, zur, you han't drunk four whole bottles, have
you?
O'H, Why, not entirely; I had some assistance, 1 had a bottle
of Port to help me.
Sal. But, sha'n't I help ye up, zur ?
O'H. Help me up—by my faith, I must be Chamber Coun¬
cil" here—I must have a suit with Sally, so I'll open the
pleadings—you divil, do you know I couldn't sleep last night
for dreaming of you ?
Sal. La, zur.
O'H. It's a fact, you villain, you're killing me by inches—
but see how good I am—I devote myself to your service ; you
shall be my client, Sally, for the future, and I'll be your
solicitor.
Sal. Deary me, zur, will'ee ?
O'H. Will I ? won't I hark you, my cherub—did you
ever hear of Epicurus' doctrine of the agitation of atoms ?
Sal. Of what, zur ?
O'H. Of atoms. Epicurus asserted that the world was made
up of a great heap of atoms, which came jostling together like
heads and sticks on the last day of Donnybrook ; now, it's
very clear to me, that the first atoms that met were the tips of
our lips in the garden of Eden—so, by way of instructing you
in the old sceptical philosophy, just allow me to give you
[Making an attempt to seize her—JSwier Wylie, from r.
door—She screams and runs off at the back.
THE IRÍSH ATTORNEY.
27
Wyh So, sir
ß'H. Aha ! my old six-and-eightpence, is that you ?
WyL Yes, sir—it is I ; the man^you've so insulted.
(y H. Then Pm mighty glad to see you,
Wyl. Dare you look me in the face ?
O'iî. Do what ?
Wyl. Look me in the face, sir !
O'H. Why, considering it's a Gorgm's, I certainly wonder at
my courage.
Wyl. Have you not exposed me ?
Ô'H. That's very possible.
Wyl. Disgraced me!
O'H. That's impossible.
Wyl. Destroy'd my best brief, dismissed my best suit,
alienated my best client—sir, you deserve hanging.
O'H* Well, sir—and what's hanging ? the lawmaking advan¬
tage of a gentleman's misfortunes !
Wyl. And not content with all this, you bring a woman into
the house, for what I know, your mistress.
O'H. My what ?
Wyl. Your mistress 1
[O'Hara attempts to rise and hit him with the whip,
but falls back.
O'H. You old thief of the world, if you don't instantly beg
pardon of the cherub you've slandered, F11—ah, it's lucky for
you that they watered the punch.
Wyl Well, sir, PU have no more words with you—Pm
cooi now, sir, quite cool and collected—and now, sir, let
me thank you for one outrage you've committed, for riding
that race to-day, by which you have violated our deed of
partnership—do you hear that, sir? Pm happy to tell you,
you're no longer my partner.
íTií.'What's that?
Wyl. No longer my partner, sir.
O'H. Come, come, old pouncet-box, you're joking.
Wyl. Joking, am I—then Pll give you the proof. (Goes to
the deed box on the table, and extracts a paper.) Here is the
deed containing this especial clause. (Reads) " And be it fur¬
ther provided, that if the said Pierce O'Hara should ever be
guilty of riding a race, or joining in any other unbecoming
amusement, that such conduct shall vitiate this deed." Do you
hear that ?
O'H. Well, sir.
Wyl. Well, sir—since Pve satisfied you, there, sir. (Tears the
deed up and throws it at him.) There, Sir—and now Pm fr^e of
you—you're a stranger to me—you've no longer any right or
title here, and I demand that you leave my house forthwith.
O'H. But not tO'-night.
28
the irish attorney.
PVyl. To-night—not another hour shall you pass under this
roof.
O'H. Pililew !
Wyl, I was to-day your victim, Fm now your judge, sir—Fll
hear no reply—F m determined j so, farewell.
[He goes off through door r.—O'Hara sits up half-
sobered.
O'H. My judge!—by my honor, it's true—and by the temper
you're in, you're a justice in eyre ! So then, Mr. Pierce
O'Hara, the upshot of all your jollity is, that you're turned out
of the house at eleven o'clock at night, without a shed on a
common to go to roost under. "Why, murder and fire, what
will become of me ? how am I to live—Fve a thorough know¬
ledge of my profession, it's true—but then Fve got no money,
till I catch a client—money, not a rap of money ; I may say,
Fve a plentiful scarcity.
Saunders comes from r. door, with trunks, a bundle of
stiçks, 8^c.
Sau. Here are your things, sir—Mr. Wylie told me to take
them to the door, and then step to the inn and tell the boots
to fetch them.
[He goes out at the back—O'Hara staggers to his feet.
0*H. Oh ! iFs true enough—out Fm going like a house dog,
in the middle of the night, and the old villain wont even give
shelter to my boxes ; and this is the beginning of " my legal
career in England—by my honor, it's cheering—ifT begin by
being turned out of a house, Í suppose I shall end with breaking
into one.
Enter Miss Charlcote,/rom r. door.
Miss C. You are here, sir—you'll pardon my anxiety, but Mr,
Fielding is not returned, and were my brother to discover
me
O'jy. Well, my darling, and if he should ?
Miss C. Are you not aware he would compel me to marry a
man I hate ? But do not think I blame him ; I know in all he
has done he has been a victim like myself.
O'H, A victim?
Miss C. Yes, sir ; his reason for compelling me to marry
Mr. Maldon is, that he owes him a debt of several thousand
pounds, which he lost to him at cards.
O'H. The devil's own doings.
Miss C. His estate being encumbered, he had no immediate
means to pay it, and was obliged to beg for time ; it was
granted, but only on condition that he consented, as my guar¬
dian, to his creditor's desires : his ruin was the alternative if he
refused, and, therefore,
the irish attorney-
29
O'H. To save his stud he sacrificed his sistei' /
Miss C. Ah, sir, you must not be too harsh with him, Ï know
he would not willingly have wronged me ; but he is young-^»
he's proud—and threatened, as I tell you, for a sum—
0'H. Which it's very likely he was robbed of.
Miss C, I'm sure he was.
O'H. it's very clear he oughtn't to pay, then—as that's
the case, just tell me, my angel, where I may find this accom¬
modating creditor.
Mai. (Without.) Tell Mr. Wylie, sir, I am here.
Miss C. Ah ! that is his voice.
O'H. It is—then oblige me by leaving us, and trust your
case to me. Consider me your councillor on this occasion,
and never fear, when I begin my argument, but I'll non-suit
your suitor.
Miss C, Ah, sir, if you succeed, accept the best thanks-^-the
prayers of her you have defended.
[She goes off through door, s.
O'H, By my honor, I'd rather have you than your prayers s
however, no matter for that, she's a saint, and I'll take care no
one plunders her shrine. So, now it's all out—my fox-hunting
friend has been done at play by this Maldon, and having no
money, like other country gentlemen, he has paid him in kind«
Now, let me consider my course in this affair—tho' in most
personal actions my favorite code has been canon law, yet there
are cases where the conduct having been criminal, the process
need not be civil, and the argument may be varied from metal
to wood—clearly so. There are cases where the ground of ac¬
tion warranting, the form may be altered from pistols to sticks,
(Takes up a pair of cudgels from the top of porímanteau.) Now,
here's a pair of councillors I invariably travel with ; not one of
'em but is an orator that has gained me a cause, though, with
singular liberality, he has given damages to my opponent, I
remember, when neither judge nor jury could see their way in
a claim I set up for a poor widow at Mallow, I dismissed Coun»
cillor Hartigan, and employed Councillor Blackthorn, and, by
my honor, I got a verdict in less than ten minutes. Now, I'll
consider Mr. Maldon as a judge in this business, who has
decided unfairly, so I'll put to him a point which he'll find
rather knotty, and I shouldn't at all wonder if it altered his
verdict.
Enter Maldon from the oacÄ —O'Hara throivs down the
cudgeU,
Mal. You here, sir?
O'H. Yes, sir 5 i dare say you're surprised to see me.
Mai, I am, after the note I've just received.
OMi, The note ?
30
the irish atíorney.
Mal. From Mr. Wylie ; acquainting me, that, as some atone-
ment for my treatment, he had dismissed you from his house.
O'fí". Oho ! then it's to you I'm indebted for being turned
out of doors at eleven o'clock at night. Sir, I'm obliged to
you.
Mai. Obliged to me !
O'H. Yes, sir, for adopting this method of doing me justice.
You declined fighting me this morning because I was a third
party, and you felt bound before the day was over to make me
amends. Many thanks to you, sir, we'll have it off directly.
Mai. "What, sir, in the middle of the night ?
0*H. Why not j where could you find a snugger room than
this ? we've only got to lock the doors, and blaze away till
daylight.
Mai. But, sir, I didn't come here to be shot at
0*H. You didn't ? Well, now, only to see some men's good
fortune ; you didn't hope for such a pleasure, and here you've
tumbled into it.
Mai. But, sir, I'm wholly unprepared—I've neither friends
nor pistols.
O'H. Oh, make yourself easy, I'll be your friend, and I've as
pretty a pair of reporters in that trunk as you'd wish to stand
before.
[He opens the trunk and takes out a pistol case.
Mai. Once for all, sir, I refuse your proposal. If you'll wait
till daybreak
O H. Daybreak 1 poh, poh—I see your taste wants refining.
You're fond of a big field and a broad staring sky, where every
one can look at you. That's not our mode in Galway,- we
prefer the snug seclusion of a saw-pit, or the elegant retire¬
ment of a drawing room, where there's just light enough to
see we don't hurt the furniture.
Mai. Sir, I decline this meeting—I demand that you let
me go-
O'H. Go 1 oh, of course ; get this at your ribs and you'll go
fast enough. Now, look at them—aint they a pair of darlings ?
I've a sort of love for these pistols that stands me in lieu of
paternal attachments—one I call Sweetlips, and the other the
Coaxer. There, sir, they're ready loaded, and I've primed them
—now take your choice, and if you like a short shot, catch hold
of the end of this neckcloth.
[He forces a pistol mío Maldon's äand, and untwists his
cravat.
Mai. (Aside.) What am I to do? He'll hit me to a certainty.
O'H. Stop, stop—to make all sure, I'll lock the door and
hang up the key ; and then, you know, when it's all over the
wrvivor can let himself out.
[He goes to door at back and closes it.
THE IRfSH ATTORNEY.
31
MaL It's my only chance—I must disable him to save my
life. Well, sir, since you're resolved to murder me, I stand
on self-defence—there !
[He snaps the pistol at O'Hara—O'Hara turns.
O'H. Missed, by St Peter.
Mai. D—n—I—I'm pfraid, sir, I levelled too soon—but——
O'H. Well, never mind, you'll not find I'll be in too great a
hurry, fAiming at him.)
Mai. Hold, hold, Mr. O'Hara j you cannot think of levèlling
at an unarmed man—you see I'm powerless.
O'H. And whose fault is that, my darling; haven't you had
your snap at me, though it was behind my back ?
Mai. Still, sir, have some mercy—consider
O'H. Oho ! then I suppose you'd rather have it referred to
arbitration ?
Mai. Why, certainly, I should prefer that course. Let us
part now, and in the morning I'll appoint a friend—and
O'H. Oh, don't trouble yourself, I've got a couple of friends
here who'll decide it directly.
Mai. And who may they be ?
O'H. (Producing the sticks) Councillors Blackthorn and
Ground Ash !
Mai. What, sir ?
(yn. Yes, sir; these sticks I consider my Court of Equity—
a tribunal of appeal, when the Common Law is unable to arrive
at just notions.
Mai. But, sir, you can't suppose I can contend in this way.
O'H. By my honor, Mr. Mai don, I begin to think you can
contend in no way that's worthy of a gentleman. Now, hear
what T have to say, sir ; you fired at me at a 'vantage, and at e
now at my mercy ; 1 offer you this defence, and you refuse to
take it. Now, there's only one thing you can do to save your
name from being posted, and your bones turned into a jelly :
you've won a sum of money from my friend Charleóte, on
which you compelled him to promise you his sister's hand—
Now, sir, enter that room and write me a release from that
promise.
Mai. A release ?
O'H. Yes, sir; and, if you'd make the transaction perfect,
you'll add to it a discharge of the play debt between you.
Mal. But—but—Mr. O'Hara, I am wealthy, and can be
grateful. Is there no other course ?
O'H. For an answer to that, sir, I must refer you to my
arbitrator. Councillor Blackthorn. {Grasping his stick)
Mai. Ten thousand devils !—baffled after all.
[He enters the room^ l.
O'H. Success to arbitration ! Having now established the
32
the irish attorney.
Councillor's character as an eminent pleader, I'll take him into
that room as an incorruptible witness.
[He follows him with a candle»
Enter Wylie and Hawk from- h. d., with a candle.
Wyl. What's this ? Quickset has satisfied Ruggles.
Hawk. Yes, sir; and all owing to Mr. O'Hara. The Squire
dined with him to-day, and has agreed both to compensate our
client, and to employ us for the future.
Wyl. The deuce he has ! Why then the Irishman has not
lost me a client, but gained me one ?
Hawk. Exactly so, sir.
Wyl. Come, then, his conduct is not so bad after all ; but,
then, his treatment of the deputation—his dismissing that
fiock of farmers, by whom I must have gained hundreds—that
displayed a recklessness I never can forgive.
Hawk, Here they are, sir.
Enter the Deputation, followed by Fielding.
Wyl. Really, gentlemen, I am very sorry my partner should
have treated you in so shameful a manner.
Far. Shameful, zur ; la bless ye, he be the finest lawyer that
ever comed into these parts. Why, at the dinner to-day, he
got the Lord of the Manor to give us up the right of way over
Barnsbury Heath.
Wyl. He did ?
Fie. Which landlord, sir, is my uncle, from whom I have been
estranged for many years, and to whose favor I was restored
to-day, through the kindness of your partner, who, by not
arresting me, but suifering me to proceed to Ripon, where I
met my relative, has helped me back to affluence. As a small
earnest of my gratitude, allow me to offer you the management
of the coal mines on my uncle's property.
Wyl. The coal mines—-why that's a thousand a-year at the
least shilling.
Enter Charlcote, from the hack.
Cha. Mr. Fielding !
Fie, Mr. Charlcote, this meeting is fortunate. This morning,
rendered desperate by your refusal, I stole your sister from
your roof ; I now beg to restore her to you, and to tell you I
possess a property which enables me to ask.her from you as
becomes a gentleman.
Cha. Sir, I have already told you my sister's hand is pledged
to Mr. Maldon : my word is given to him, and he only can
release me from it.
O'Hara and Maldon come from l. d.
O'H. Then, that release, sir, I have the honor to present to
you. (Giving paper.)
THE IRISH A.TTORNEY.
33
Cha, What do I see !
O'JfJ. A permission to your sister to follow her own wishes,
regularly drawn up by me, as Mr, Maldon's solicitor.
Fie. Ts this possible ?
Mai. To which. Charleóte, let me add a full discharge of the
play debt between us ; which I never should have pressed,
could I have hoped to win your sister otherwise.
Fie. Mr. Maldon, accept my friendship. But to your skill
and kindness, Mr. O'Hara, what do I not owe ?
Cha. (To O'Hara.) You have saved me from the brink of
ruin, command me for the future as you please. Mr. Fielding
—^Maldon—we are now no longer enemies; let my sister be
the witness of our reconciliation.
[They go out through r. d.
Wyl. Why, I can't believe my senses—obtained a discharge
of Charleóte's debt!
(TH. Every farthing of it,
Wyl. And with his own free consent ?
(TH. Of course—how else ^
Wyl. Sir, this seems impossible.
CH. Oh, no doubt—^to ordinary minds—^to your poor mise¬
rable every-day practitioners, but to lawyers who found their
practice on the immutable principles of reason and equity,
nothing can be easier.
Wyl. (Aside.) Why this man is a miracle ; every outrage
he has committed against legal propriety has turned into a
benefit.
[O'Hara, during this, having buttoned up his coat to go
now takes his hat.
O'H. And now, Mr. Wylie, having re-established your interests
and placed your practice upon higher principles than I found
it, I beg to comply with your wishes, and go out of your
house.
Wyl. Go out of my house I My dear sir, you're jesting.
O'H. Why, havn't you discharged me ?
Wyl. Oh, nonsense, I know I saidsomethinghasty just now,
but
O'H. Hasty, sir; didn't you say I disgraced you?
Wyl. My dear sir, how can you disgrace me when you act
with such cleverness ?
O'H. Didn't you say I had ruined you ?
Wyl. How can you ruin me, when you earn me a thousand
a-year ^
CH. Well, sir, I might pardon that—I might set it down to
passion, or mistake ; but there was one taunt of yours I never
can forgive—you said I was no lawyer.
Wyl. But—but — my dear sir, that was a forgetfulness
which
O'H. No, no, sir—no apologies can atone for that—your
34
THE ÎRISH ATTORNEY.
caluínny has struck into my heart, sir—so farewell, Mr. Wylie,
~-and-~—
[O'Haba struggling to get out—Cha recote. Fielding,
and MâSs Cuarlcote come from r.d.
Cha. Hey-day—what's this—partners quarrelling ?
Wyl. Speak to him, Mr. Charleóte ; he's mad enough to
think I wish to part with him.
Oha. Come, come—I hope not—he must stay with you for
our sakes. Eh, sister?
Miss C. Pray, Mr. O'Hara, do remain to witness and partake
the happiness you've created,
Wyl. Come, come now, as an Irishman, you'll not refuse a
lady.
O'H. Sir, it's not Gal way practice to refuse a lady anything ;
but if I do consent, one word with you fiist : It seems to me,
my friend, that yon and I go upon opposite systems ; you,
setting all men down for rascals, think no one's worth serving
but yourself ; whilst I am of opinion, that there's no better
way to mind oui own interests than now and then to remem¬
ber other people's. It's pretty plain then, that if our firm is
to stand, you and I must make a small exchange of qualities ;
you must have.a grain ó two of f^y helief, and I, a spice of
your caution Do you agree to that ?
Wyl Perfectly.
O'H. "Well, then, there's my handj we'll draw up a new
deed, and to-morrow we'll start afresh. And, now, as all our
friends sj-e content about us^ I trust there are a few here who
Will not withhold their support ftoin the futiue caieer of an
Irish Attorney.
the end.
Dispoùiion of Characiers.
R. L"
O'Hara.
V
r'
"W. Ö. joHKSoK, Namaii Öteam ties»» t- ISiassau-street,
This book is a preservation facsimile
produced for the Northwestern University Library.
It is made in compliance with copyright law
and produced on acid-free archival
60# book weight paper
which meets the requirements of
ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper)
Preservation facsimile printing and binding
by
Acme Bookbinding
Charlestown, Massachusetts
2011