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SKETCHES

THE IRISH BAR

BY THE RT. HON.
RICHARD LALOR SHEIL, M. P.
¦WITH MEMOIR AND NOTES
BY
K. SHELTON MACKENZIE, D.C.L.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
Vol. II.

REDFIELD
34 BEEKMAN STREET, NEW YORK
Fourth edition.] 18 5 8 ^

Kntered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854,
By J. S. REDFIELD,
in the Clerk'a jffl-je of tiie District Court of the United States, in and for the Southern
District of New York.

STEREOTYPED DY C. C. SAVAGE,
13 Clmmbers Street, N. Y.

CONTENTS OF VOL. IL

LORD NORBURY.
His Rise and Progress. — Fighting One's Way to Fortune. — Sir Boyle
Roche's Bulls. — Robert Emmett's Trial. — Norbury's Judicial Brutality.
— His Personal Appearance. — Scenes in his Court. — A Noble Jester. —
His Intolerant Politics. — The Saurin Letter. — His Enforced Resigna
tion  PAGE 5
CLONMEL ASSIZES.
Murder of Mr. Chadwick. — Trial and Execution of Patrick Grace. — The
Approver and Vengeance. — Murder of Daniel Mara. — Trial of the As
sassins. — Earl of Kingston.— The Melodrama of Grime— Capital
Conviction^ — Causes of Ii-ish Disaffection  41
THE CATHOLIC BAR.
Exclusion of Catholics. — Sir Theobald Butler's Pleading against the
Ponal Laws. — The Gallant Sarsfield. — British Violation of the Treaty of
Limerick. — Lord Chesterfield and Lady Palmer. — Mr. William Bellew.
— Catholic MaiTiages. — Money. — The Court of Chancery. — A Cath
olic Law^yer's Religious Manifestations  75
SIR MICHAEL O'LOGHLIN.
Hia Person, Deportment, and Descent. — Bar Costume. — Bumbo Green,
the Legal Falstaff. — British Judicial System. — Chief-Baron O'Grady. —
SirW. C. Smith. — O'Loghlin appointed Master of the Rolls. — Is made
a Baronet. — His Danish Ancestor  106
LORD-CHANCELLOR BLACKBURNE.
Chief Baron Wolfe. — Peter Henchey and Lord Manners. — Peter Bur-
rowes. — Ill-timed Ascendency Manifestation. — Curran's Eloquence and
Conversation. — Blackburne's Practice and Promotions. — Orange Char
ter Toast. — The Burning of the Sheas. — Sheil's Speech to the Peasant
ry  118
CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOR BARRISTER.
Training for the Bar. — Gale Jones. — Early Struggles. — An Aggregate
Meeting. — Results of an Oration. — The Lawyer in Love. — A Double
Confidant. — Eloqicence de Billet. — The Gain of Godliness. — Hope de
ferred. — Dancing into Practice  154

a- CONTENTS.
LORD-CHANCELLOR MANNERS.
His Biography. — Farewell to the L-ish Ear. — Mr. Joy's Valediction. —
Catholic Magistrates. — Dublin Corporation  PAGE 172
THE MANNERS TESTIMONt&.L.
Scenes in the Chancellor's Career. — The Jesuits. — Judicial Incompetency.
— Lord Rathdown in Character  184
THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
Catholic Politics in 1825. — Invasion of England. — O'Connell en route. —
Dr. Milner and Chai-les Butler. — Burdett, Plunket, Brougham, Weth-
erell. Peel, and Joseph Hume, the Dukes of Devonshire and Leinster,
Lords Durham and Abinger, Dukes of Sussex and Norfolk, Coke of Nor
folk. — Character of O'Connell's Eloquence. — Catholic Meeting in Lon
don. — A Dinner Batch of Nobles. — Charles James Fox and Lord Grey. 192
ARCHIBALD HAMILTON ROWAN.
An Ii-ish Patriot. — Remarkable Exterior. — Flight from Prison. — Jackson's
Chivalry. — Asylum in America  230
JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.
Louth Election in 1826. — The Roden and Oriel League. — Harry Mills,
the "Village Hampden." — Cost of making a Peer. — Leslie Foster in
Parliament. — Nobility among the Commons. — Marquis of Anglesey. —
Bot Smith. — The Customs' Job. — Foster in Ermine  235
THE CLARE ELECTION, IN 1828.
Vesey Fitzgerald opposed by the Catholic Association. — Candidate-Hunt
ing. — O'Connell in the Field. — Tom Steele, O'Gorman Mahon, and
"Honest Jack Lawless." — Father Tom Maguire. — The Priest of Cor-
ofin. — The Contest. — O'Connell's Victory, and its Results. — Shell's
Speech. — " The Duke'' and Catholic Emancipation  265
PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
Gathering of the "Men of Kent."— Cobbett and Hunt.— The Brunswick-
ers.— Lord Camden, a Model Sinecurist.— Shell's Unspoken Speech . . 315
LORD CHANCELLOR BROOGHAM, IN 1831.
HisEIevatiou. — Lord Lyndhurst. — The Chancellor's Levee. — Archbishops
of Canterbmy and York. — Wellington and Brougham. — Francis Jef
frey. — Scarlett. — Jocky Bell. — The Speaker. — Lord Demnan  340
STATE OF PARTIES IN DUBLIN.
Recent Changes.— Mr. Bellew "in Silk Attire.''— O'Loghlin.  Purcel
O'Goi-man.— Dublin Election.— The Candidates: Moore and Recorder
Shaw, Harty and Louis Perrin. — Sir Anthony Hart and the Master of
the Rolls.— Mr. Saurin.— Dutch Smugglers.— Popular Triumph  354
I""^^  367

SKETCHES OF THE IRISH BAR.

LORD NOEBURY.

Three remarkable incidents have lately taken place. Lord
NoRBURY, in testimony of his long and numerous services, has
been created an earl. Lord Plunket has sunk into his successor,
and Lord Manners took his leave amidst a strong odor of
onions, and the tears of the Irish Bar.* I had intended to
make these three events the groundwork of the present article;
for Lord Plunket's first appearance on the stage from which
Lord Norbury had just made his exit — his wan and dejected
aspect, which was, as much as his intellect, in contrast with that
of his predecessor — the melancholy smile which superseded
his habitually haughty and sardonic expression — the exulta
tion of his antagonists at seeing him descend from his recent
elevation, and the sympathy which the liberal portion of the
Bar felt in what was considered as liis fall, presented a scene
of deep and extraordinary interest.
It was also my purpose (inasmuch as no reasonable expecta
tion can be entertained that a new edition of Rose and Beattie
will afford an opportunity of attaching, by way of appendix
* This Sketch was published in November, 1827, but appears to have been
written before Canning's death, which took place in August, during the same
year. The retirement of Lord Manners from the Chancellorship, and the ap
pointment of Plunket as Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, took place, under
Oanning's Administration, in 1827. — M.

b LOED NOEBUET.
to those immortal records of judicial wisdom, a report of Lord
Manners's last judgment upon himself) to preserve some account
of his lordship's final adjudication upon his own merits, and to
commemorate the tear that fell upon that pathetic occasion
from the " Outalissi" of the Four Courts —
" The first, the last, the only tear
Tliat Peter Henchey shed:"
but I find that the first of the incidents to which I have re
ferred, togetlier with an account of the progress of Lord Nor-
bury through the various parts which he performed in the
political theatre, from his first entrance as " an Irish gentle
man" in the House of Commons, to his exit as a jester from
the bench, will occupy so much space, that I must confine
myself to the biography of his Lordship ; which, however little
it may be instructive, will not, I think, be found unamusing,
and falls within the scope of the articles on the Irish Bar.
In the account given by Sir Pertinax Macsycophant of his
rise and progress in the world, he states that his only patri
mony was a piece of parental advice, which stood him in lieu
of an estate. I have heard it said, that Lord Norbury, in
detailing the circumstances which attended his original ad
vancement in life, generally commenced the narrative of his
adventures with a death-bed scene of a peculiarly Irish char
acter. His father, a gentleman of a respectable Protestant
family in the county of Tipperary, called him in his last
moments to his side, and after stating that, in order to sustain
the ancient and venerable name of Toler in its dignity, he
had devised the estate derived from a sergeant (not at law) to
his eldest son, the old Cromwellian drew from under his pillow
a case of silver-mounted pistols, and, delivering this "donatio
mortis causa," charged him never to omit exhibiting the
promptitude of an Irish gentleman, in resorting to these foren
sic and parliamentary instruments of advancement.*
* Lord Norbury made frequent, if not good, use of his pistols — " bai-kers,"
as they were called in fighting pailance. He fought with several persons, ono
of whom was the ruffianly " Fighting Fitzgerald" who was finally hanged for
murder. In those days a duel was necessary to fix a man's chm-acter. When
a yotmg man entered society, the first word wap, " What family docs he come

CALLED TO THE BAE. 7
The family acres having gone to the eldest brother, our hero
proceeded with his specific legacy, well oiled and primed, to
Dublin, having no other fortune than the family pistols, and a
couple of hundred pounds, when he was called, in the year
1770, to the Bar. The period is so remote, that no account of
his earlier exploits, beyond that of his habitual substitution of
the canons of chivalry for those of law, has remained. With
one of his contemporaries, the late Sir Frederick Flood, I
was acquainted, and I have heard that eminent person, whom
the intellectual aristocracy of Wexford sent to supply the
place of Mr. Fuller in the British House of Commons,* occa-
from ?" the second, " Who has he Uazed with ?" When plain Mr. Toler, Lord
Norbury quarrelled with Sir Jonah Barrington. It was in the House of Com
mons, when Barrington having accused him of having " a hand for every man
and a heart for nobody" (which was true to the letter), Toler gave a sharp re
ply, and hurriedly retired. Ban'ington, who understood his look, followed.
The Speaker sent in pursuit of both gentlemen. Barrington was overtaken,
running down Nassau street, and, on his resistance, was bodily snatched up, in
presence of a shouting mob of grinning spectators, and literally carried into the
House, on a man's shoulders. Toler, caught by his coat-skirts being fastened
by a door, was seized, and pulled until the skirts were separated from the gar
ment. The Speaker called on both to give a promise that the affair should go
no farther, which Barrington did at once. Toler rose to speak, minus his skirts,
and the laughter caused by his appearance was increased when Cun-an gi-ave-
ly said that " it was offering an unparalleled insult to the House, for one hon
orable member to trivi another member's jacket, within the precincts of Par
liament, and almost in view of the Speaker himself." To the last, even when
judge, Norbury was anxious to display himself in the duello. There is no
doubt that his advancement was owing more to his readiness to challenge and
fight, than to any merit as a law'yer. He valued his life at nothing — a very
fair estimate. — M.
* Sir Frederick Flood was member for Wexford County in the Imperial Par
liament, where he was much laughed at for his blunders, his ostentation, and
his good temper. He used to adopt almost any suggestion, while making a
speech. Praising the Wexford magistracy for their zeal, he suggested, " They
ought to receive some signal mark of vice-regal favor.'' Egan (commonly
called Bully Egan, and judge of Dubliia County) jocularly whispered, " and be
whipped at the cart's tail." Flood, hearing the words, completed his speech
by adding — "and be whipped at the cart's tail I" He did not discover his
unconscious mistake, until awakened by a shout of laughter from his auditors.
Jack Fuller was an English M. P., who was the acknowledged Parliamentary
buffoon, after the brilliant wit of Sheridan ceased to enliven the Legislature.
Fuller was a mere joker : Sheridan a man of genius. — M.

» LORD NOEBUET.
sionally expatiate on the feats which he used to perform with
Lord Norbury, witli something of the spirit with which Justice
Shallow records his achievements at Clement's Inn. " Oh the
mad days that I have spent,'' Sir Frederick used to say, " and
to think that so many of my old acquaintances are dead !"
The details, however, of his narrations have escaped me. I
had calculated that, as he was a strict disciple of Abernethy
(except when he dined out), he would have equalled Comaro
in longevity; but being as abstemious in his dress as in his
diet, and having denied himself the luxury of an exterior
integument. Sir Frederick coughed himself, a couple of winters
since, unexpectedly away. I am, therefore, unable to resort
to any of Lord Norbury's original companions, for an authentic
account of the first development of his genius at the Irish
Bar. If that bar had been constituted as it is at present, at the
period when Lord Norbury was called, it is difficult to imagine
how he could have succeeded. Destitute of knowledge, with
a mind which, however shrewd and sagacious in the perception
of his own interests, was unused to consider, and was almost
incapable of comprehending any legal proposition, he could
never have risen to any sort of eminence, where perspicuity or
erudition was requisite for success. But the qualifications for
distinction, at the time wlien Lord Norbury was called, were
essentially different from what they are at present. Endowed
with the lungs of Stentor, and a vivacit}' of temperament
which sustained him in all the turbulence of Irish Nisi Prius,
and superadding to his physical attributes for noise and blus
ter, a dauntless determination, he obtained some employment
in those departments of his profession, in which merits of the
kind were at that time of value. His elder brother, Daniel,
was elected member for the county of Tipperary, which brought
him into connection with Government ; but, besides his broth
er's vote, he is reported to have intimated to the ministiy, that
upon all necessary occasions his life should be at their service.
The first exploit from which his claims upon the gratitude of
the local administration of the country were chiefly derived
was the " putting down," to use the technical phrase, of Mr.

CHALLKKGKS NAPPER TANDY. 9
"Napper Tandy* The latter was a distinguished member of
the Whig Club, and was a tribune of the people.
Tandy had set up great pretensions to intrepidity, but,
having come into collision with Lord Norbury, manifested so
little alacrity in accepting the ready tender which was made
to him by that intrepid loyalist, that the latter was considered
to have gained a decided superiority. ISTapper Tandy re
mained lingering on the threshold of the arena, while the
prize-fighter of the ministers rushed into it at once, and brand
ished his sword amidst the applauses of that party, of which
he was thenceforward the champion. The friends of Napper
Tandy accounted for his tardiness in calling on Lord Norbury
(who declared his willingness to meet him in half an hour), by
referring it to an apprehension that the House of Commons
would interfere ; but it seems probable that the patriot of the
hour set a higher estimate upon his existence than it merited,
* James Napper Tandy was an Irishman, of good family, high education,
and respectable fortune. He was a United Irishman, and retired to France,
to avoid arrest in Ireland. There he received a commission, as general of bri
gade, in one of the expeditions against Ireland, in 1798, which came to noth
ing. The year following, Napper Tandy %v as in Hamburgh, where the English
Government had spies, and the local authorities surrendered him, us a prisoner
claimed by England. Napoleon, who was then first consul, reclaimed Tandy, as
an officer in the army of France, and declared that if a hair of his head were
touched, an English officer of equal rank, taken prisoner in France, should be
hanged. The threat was a strong one, the man likely to execute it, and, in
stead of executing Tandy as ''a traitor," England exchanged him, as a pris
oner-of-war. He died in the French service. Napoleon levied a heavy fine-
on the city of Hamburgh for their breach of neutrality in surrendering a French
officer. It should be noted that Theobald Wolfe Tone, taken in arms in Le
Hoche, a French ship-of-war which took troops to Ireland in September, 1798,
had as much right to be reclaimed by France, in whose military office he was,
as Tandy. There was not time to do so, so rapidly did his trial and conviction
follow his capture. It is known that Tone cut his throat in prison, to avoid
death on the scaffold. But it is not generally known that it was seriously dis
cussed by the Irish executive, whether, "for the sake of the example,'' he
should not be conducted to the gallows, half-dead as he was, and executed
forthwith — though to do so, it would be necessary to insert the halter within
the wound, and thereby probably tear the victim's head from his body ! Human
ity or the fear of public execration prevailed, and Tone was suffered to die in
peace, after lingering for eight days in mortal pain. — M.
1*

10 I.OED NOEBUEY.
while Lord Norbury rated himself at his leal value, and did
not " set his life at a pin's fee."
After this afi-air, which mainly contributed to the making of
his fortunes, the minister determined to turn the principal
talent which he appeared to possess, and of which he had
given so conspicuous a proof, to farther account. In the Irish
House of Commons, the government party, when hard pressed,
converted the debate into a sort of sanguinary burletta, in
which Lord Norbury, then Sergeant Toler, and Sir Boyle
Roche,* of blundering memory, were their favorite performers.
* Sir Boyle Roche was an Irish Baronet, who had a seat in Parliament, and
was the droll of the House. He was famous for his bwlls — which, though the
expression might be incorrect, generally involved aphorisms of sound sense.
He was of respectable family — with a claim to the title of Viscount Fermoy, but
never urging it. Once, when it was stated, on a money-grant, that it was unjust
to saddle posterity with a debt incurred to benefit the present generation. Sir
Boyle rose up and said, " Why should we beggar ourselves to benefit posterity ?
What has posterity done for us ?" The laugh which followed rather surprised
him, as he was unconscious of his blunder. He explained : " Sir, by posterity
I do not mean our ancestors, but those who come immediately after them.'^
— Arguing in favor of a harsh Government measure, he urged that it would be
better to give up not only a part, but even the whale of the constitution, to pre
serve the remainder." — On another occasion, as a free translation of
" Tu no cede mails, sed contra audentior ito,''
he said " The best way to avoid danger, is to meet it plump." — Complaining of
the smallness of wine-bottles, he suggested that a bill should be passed enact
ing that every quart-bottle should hold a quart. — He man-ied Sir John Cave's eld
est daughter, and boasted that if he had an older one. Sir John would have given
her to him. — Fearing the progress of revolutionary opinions.he drew a frightful pic
ture of the future, remarking that the House of Commons might be invaded by
ruffians who, said he, " would cut us to mince-meat and throw our bleeding heads
on that table, to stare us in the face." — Arguing in favor of the Union of Ireland
with England, he said (rather wittily) that " there was no Le\'itical degrees be
tween nations, and, on this occasion, he saw neither sin nor shame in marrying owr
own sister.'' — He brought in a bill for the improvement of the Dublin police,
who were in the habit of sleeping on their post, at night, and introduced a
clause to the effect that " every watchman should be compelled to sleep in the
daytime." On this, another member arose and begged to be included in that
clause, by name, "as he was troubled with the gout and sometimes could not
sleep by night or day."— He assisted in preparing a bill to provide for the erec
tion of a new jail in Dublin, and stated that the new prison should be built on
the site and with the materials of the old one, and that the prisoners should

SIE BOYLE EOCHIC AND HIS BULLS. 11
When Grattan had ignited the House of Commons, and suc
ceeded in awakening some recollections of public virtue in that
corrupt and prostituted assemblj', or when Mr. Ponsonby, the
leader of the Whig aristocracy, had, by his clear and simple
exposition of the real interests of the country, brought a reluc
tant conviction of their duty to those who were most interested in
shutting it out, finding themselves unequal to cope in eloquence
with the one, or in argunjent with the other, the government
managers produced Sir Boyle Roche and Sergeant Toler upon
the scene.
On Grattan the experiment of bullying was not tried, for his
fii-mness was too well known. Sir Boyle was, therefore, ap
pointed to reply to him, as his absurdities were found to be
useful in restoring the House to that moral tone, from which
the elevating declamation of the greatest speaker of his time
bad for a moment raised them. Under the influence of Sir
Boyle's blunders, which were in part intended, the Irish legis
lators recovered their characteristic pleasantry, and " made
merry of a nation's woes ;'' while Sergeant Toler, who almost
equalled Sir Boyle in absurdity, and was more naturally, he-
continue to reside in the old prison until the new one was completed I — Bar
rington states that the postillion of Lord Lisle having been mulcted in damages
for crim. con. with Lady Lisle, and imprisoned in default of payment, and an
applicant for relief as an Insolvent Debtor, which the Legislatui-e resisted. Sir
Boyle Roche argued for him (and with much plausibility) that " Lady Lisle,
and not Dennis McCarthy, must have been the real seducer," and concluded
by asking " Mr. Speaker, what was this poor servant's crime? — Sure, it was
only doing his master's business by his mistress's order." — Curran used to say
that Sir Boyle Roche had a rival in an Irish Judge, who sagely contended, in
an argument on the construction of a will, that *'it appeared to him that the
testator meant to keep a life interest in the estate to himself." Curran an
swered, " True, my Lord ; testators do generally secure a life interest for them
selves, but in this case, I rather think you take the will for the deed." Sir Boyle
Roche's bulls illustrated what may be called arguing wrongly from right prem
ises. To illustrate this, let me add a bull by another. Two Irishmen met,
after a long separation, and to an inquiry after the health of a third person, the
reply was, " Oh, he's been ill. He's had the fever. It has worn him down, as
thin as a thread-paper. You are thin, and / am thin, but he is thinner than
both of us put together.'^ Here the idea is fully conveyed, but, in the hurry of
clothing the thought with language, the mode of expression is incorrect. And
Buch is that amusing thing — an Irish Bull. — M.

12 LOED NOEBUEY.
cause he was involuntarily extravagant, played his part, and
was let loose upon Mr. Ponsonby, whose nerves Avere of a deli
cate organization, with singular effect. That eminent states
man had made a speech, recommending Catholic Emancipa
tion, and other collateral measures, as the only means of rescu
ing Ireland from the ruin which impended over her. He was
always remarkable for the dignified urbanity of his manners,
and in the speech to which Sergeant Toler replied, scarcely
any man but Toler could have found materials for personal
vituperation. The English reader will be able to form some idea of the
system on which the debates of the Irish House of Commons
were carried on, and to estimate. Lord Norbury's powers of
minacious oratory, from the following extract from the parlia
mentary debates: "What was it come to, that in the Irish
House of Commons they should listen to one of their own
members degrading the character of an Irish gentleman by
language which was fitted but for hallooing a mob? Had he
heard a man uttering out of those doors such language as that
by which the honorable gentleman had violated the decorum
of Parliament, he would have seized the ruffian hy the throat,
and dragged him to the dust ! What were the House made
of, who could listen in patience to such abominable sentiments?
sentiments, thank God ! which were acknowledged by no
class of men in this country, except the execrable and infamous
nest of traitors, who were known by the name of United Irish
men, who sat brooding in Belfast over their discontents and
treasons, and from whose publications he could trace, word for
word, every expression the honorable gentleman had used." —
Irish Parlia7nentary Debates, Feb., 1797.
Of this fragment of vituperation Mr. Ponsonb}' took no no
tice; and the object of the orator « as attained, in securing
himself a new title to the gratitude of those who kept a band
of bravoes hired in their service, and could not have selected
a more appropriate instrument than Lord Norbury for the pur
poses of intimidation. To his personal courage, or rather
recklessness of the lives of others as well as his own, he is
chiefly indebted for his promotion. It was the leading trait

HIS I'KOIIOTION. 13
of his character, and, prevailing over his extravagance, invested
him with a sort of spurious respectability. In the manifesta
tions of that spirit, which had become habitual, he has perse
vered to the last; and even since he has been a Chief-Justice
has betrayed his original tendency to settle matters after the
old Irish fashion, at the distance of twelve paces. He has
more than once intimated to a counsel, who was pressing him
too closely with a Bill of Exceptions, that he would not seek
shelter behind the bench, or merge the gentleman in the Chief-
Justice ; and, when a celebrated senator charged him with
having fallen asleep on a trial for murder, he is reported to
have declared that he would resign, in order to demand satis
faction, as " that Scotch Broom (Brougham) wanted nothing so
much as an Irish stick.''
In the year 1798, Lord Norbury was his Majesty's Solicitor-
General. His services to Government had been hitherto con
fined to the display of ferocious rhetoric in the House of Com
mons, of which I have quoted a specimen. The civil disturb
ances of the country offered a new field to his genius, and
afforded him an opportunity of accumulating his claims upon
the gratitude of the Crown, which could not have found a more
zealous, and, I will even add, a more useful servant during the
rebellion. If the juries before whom the hordes who were
charged with high treason were put upon their trial, had been
either scrupulous or reluctant, if any questions of effectual
difSculty could have arisen, and the forms of the law could
have been used with any chance of success in the defence of
the prisoners, if Justice had not rushed with eagerness through
every impediment, and broken all ceremony down, such a
Solicitor-General as Lord Norbury would have been an inap
plicable and inefficient instrument ; but the evidence of in
formers was generally so direct and simple, and so strong ¦\vas
the impatience of juries to precipitate themselves to a convic
tion, all niceties and technicalities of the law were so utterly
disregarded, and it was so little requisite that the conductors
of Government prosecutions should possess either acuteness or
knowledge, that Lord Norburj''s faculties were quite equal to
the discharge of his official duty, while they were in happy

14 LOED NOEBUET.
adaptation to the moral character of the public tribunals, and
the exigency of the time.
To strike terror into the people was the great object to be
attained, and Lord Norbury had many qualifications for the
purpose. He stood in a court of justice, not only as the servant
of his sovereign, but as the representative, in some measure,
of the powerful Cromwellian aristocracy to which bis family
belonged, and in whose prejudices and passions he himself
vehemently participated. His whole bearing and aspect
breathed a turbulent spirit of domination. His voice was deep
and big ; and in despite of the ludicrous associations connected
with his character, when it rolled the denunciations of infuri
ated power through the court, derived from the terrible intima
tions which it conveyed, an awful and appalling character.
He did not, indeed, cease to utter absurdity, but his orations
were fraught with a kind of truculent bombast — a sort oft san
guinary "fee, fa, fum!" while the dilation of his nostrils, and
the fierceness of his look, expressed, if I may so say, the scent
of a traitor's blood.* In his moments of excitation (and he is
* It may seem uncharitable to pronounce such an opinion, but there appear
strong grounds for thinking that Lord Norbury, as a Judge, felt a sort of mor
bid pleasure in presiding at the trial, and (what under him was pretty sure to
follow) the conviction of persons prosecuted by the Government. Dtiring the
fatal and blood-stained year of 1798, he was Attorney-General, and had the
task — if task it were to him who could say of it, " The duty I delight in physics
pain" — of conducting the State Trials. In my youth, when I used to listen to
old men's tales of the legal tortures and butcheries of '98, the naiTators would
tell how " bloody Toler" (as he was called) strained every point against pris
oners, how he would insist on eveiy quirk and quibble to convict them, how he
would browbeat the witnesses, and all but threaten the juries, and how compla
cently, when the verdict was delivered, he would insist on the passing of a sen
tence of immediate — of almost instant death. Such was it, in the case of the
Sheareses, mentioned in the preceding volume, where on the paj-t of the Crown,
he sternly refused their counsel the slightest pause for rest and thought, after the
trial had already lasted sixteen consecutive hours ; when, the verdict being re
turned at eight in the morning, he had the doomed brothers brought up tliat
same afternoon, for judgment ; how he insisted on their execution taking place
the next morning ; and how the condemnation was literally forced, by him on
the evidence of a single and tainted witness, the law of England requiring two
to establish an overt-act of high treason. Then, too, while Lord Norbury's
name was uttered with " curses both loud and deep," I used to hoar of this

emmett's trial. 15
capable of ascending beyond the level of ordinary feeling and
discourse) his spirit was strongly roused, and his countenance,
swelled as it was with passion, and stained with a dark red,
became the image of his intellect and of his sensibility. His
eyes were inflamed with a ferocious loyalty, and the conscious
ness of unbounded power ; and while they glared on the
wretches who stood pale and trembling at the bar, or were
fixed in defiance on the counsel fur the prisoner, assisted, with
man's inhuman bearing toward Robert Emmett — the kindest, most chivalric,
and truest man that ever breathed ; who, like Lord Edward Fitzgerald, might
have escaped, but, like him, declined to find safety in flight, leaving other and
meaner partners in the revolt to face the peril and the death-doom. Emmett,
from the first, did not deny his conspiracy against the English misrule which
had reduced his country from independence to its opposite — from a kingdom to
a province. All through, he was chiefly anxious to show that he never contem
plated establishing French power in Ireland — of substituting one tyranny for
another. In the speech which he made, after conviction, when called upon to
say why judgment of death should not pass, he strongly urged this : — " Small,
indeed," said he, " would be our claim to patriotism and sense, and palpable our
affectation of the love of liberty, if we were to sell our country to a people who
are not only slaves themselves, but the unprincipled and abandoned instruments
of imposing slavery on others.'' In this vindication of his motives, Emmett
was repeatedly and roughly interrupted by Norburj'. Then came the .sharp
** You, my lord, are a judge. 1 am the supposed culprit. I am a man — you
are a man also. By a revolution of power we might change places, though
we never could change characters." And then the defiance: "There are men
concerned in this conspiracy who are not only superior to me, but even to your
own conceptions of yourself, my lord — men before the splendor of whose genius
and virtues I should bow with respectful deference, and who would not deign
to call you friend — who would not disgrace themselves by shaking your blood
stained hand." The Government of that day suspected that three noblemen were
in this conspiracy — one of whom, on what suspicion or proof is unknown, was
the late Lord Cloncurry, who was arrested. It was a bfilief in Ireland, fi-om the
time that Robert Emmett was executed, that Lord Norbury would meet a doom
as tragical. He lived on, however, like the Thane of Cawdor, " a prosperous
gentleman." Boundless wealth filled his coffers. Worldly honors crowded upon
him. At last he died. But the Insh remembered how the sins of the fathers
are visited on the song. Eight years after Lord Norbuiy's death, his succes
sor ivas shot on his own demesne of Durro^v Abbey, and, to this hour, there has
been no detection of the assassin. As if to make it more inexplicable, the
doomed man was a good landlord — as landlords are estimated in Ireland.
He was neither absentee, nor exacting, nor litigious. He was simply the
representative of the blood-stained judge, and the shaft of vengeance fell upon
him. — M.

16 LOED NOEBOEr.
their savage glare, the canons of extermination which the
orator was laying down. A certain trick of expanding his
cheeks, and swelling them with wind, which he puffed impor
tantly off, set off his tempestuous adjurations, and made him
look as if he were blowing all mercy and compunction away.
Thus he was every way well adapted to his terrible task.
Nor was he less qualified, when, in his capacity of Solicitor-
General, he was put on the commission, and went as a judge
of, assize. Much of the same demeanor and deportment was
preserved on the bench, where the red robes in which he was
arrayed heightened the impression which his face, voice, and
figure, were calculated to produce.* There was, however,
* Norbury's personal appearance was very remarkable. He was more than
eighty when I first saw him, and resembled a caricatured character in a panto
mime rather than a grave judicial personage. Charles PhiUips said of him
that " the chivalry of Quixote was incased in the paunch of Sancho Panza," but
Chivalry and Norbury were antipodes, not synonymes. He had a sort of animal
comrage, or insensibility to danger, but was innocent of the gallant delight
" Which warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel."
He was nearly as broad as he was long, with a large and rubicund face ; small
and twinkling eyes, and a curious expression of feiTet-like keenness, resulting,
in all likelihood, from his being perpetually on the watch for the opportunity
of a joke. His laugh was so hearty as to be infectious. Like Hamlet, he was
"fat and scant of breath," and, was pei"petually puffing — like an asthmatic lo
comotive. From this, though resembling the German civilian in nothing, he
had obtained the soubriquet of Puffendorf. On the bench, he would pant, and .
pun, and puff, chuckling with glee at the laughter be created, until, as the fun
came faster and faster, and the buifo grew hotter and hotter, he would let his
judicial robe fall from his shoulders, shift his judicial wig to obtain ventilation,
and return it to his head, with the tails, most probably, hanging before instead
of behind ! On one occasion. Lady Castlereagh gave a fancy-ball, at which
Lord Norbury appeared as Hawthorn, in " Love in a Village," and was extremely
amusing. His dress was a green tabinet, with mother-of-pearl buttons, striped
yellow and black vest, and black breeches. If showy, the attire, from its ma
terials, was light. When Norbui7 next wci"- the Circuit, as judge, this fancy-
dress found its way into one of his travelling trunks. The weather was warm
the sitting of the Court would last for seven or eight hours, the dress was thin
— Noibury donned it, and covered with his ample judicial robes, no one could
see it. By-and-by, the heat became almost intolerable. Norbui-y ga\e his wig
the xisual twitch to the side ; then he turned up the sleeves of his robe ; next,
he loosened the girdle which confined it round his waist ; and, lastly, when
the loosened envelope had gradually opened, there was the Chief Justice seen

INDIFFEEENCE FOR LIFE. 17
this difference, that his spirit of buffoonery became more con
spicuous upon the bench. It should not, however, be too has
tily concluded that his love of drollery in' any degree disquali
fied him for the exercise of the judicial functions. On the
contrary, his merits as a jester were among his most useful
and efficient attributes as a judge. He was fanciful or turgid,
just as the occasion required.
In his addresses to the jury, he was .is swollen with exag
gerated loyalty as the gravest supporter of Proles*ant Ascen
dency could have desired ; while during the rest of the trial,
he put on a demeanor of heedless hilarity, which indicated the
little value which he attached to the life of an insurgent, and
taught the populace at what rate human breath was estimated
in his court. The -effect of the tortures of Macbriar, in " Old
Idortality," is greatly heightened by the merriment by, which
tie Duke of Lauderdale exclaims, '' He will make an old prov
erb good, for he'll scarce ride to-day, though he has had his
boots on." I do not, however, believe that the indifference for
human life which was indicated by Lord Norbuiy's judicial
mirth, was at all studied or systematic, or the result of cruelty
of disposition. He is naturally of a gay and- pleasant cast of
in his Hawthorn dress, chuckling over the jokes with which he amused himself
and the Court in the intervals between the graver business of sentencing cul
prits to be hanged. — He was usually vci-y polite to prisoners. On one occasion,
when he had to sentence half a dozen, he had them all brought up, in a batch,
and, severally naming five of them, pronounced judgment of death. An officer
of the Court reminded his Lordship that he had missed one. The convict was
Bent for. " My good man," said Norbury, blowing like a grampus, " I've made
a mistake about you, and I really must beg your pardon [puff puff puff], I
should have sentenced you with the rest [puff] and quite omitted your narae
[puff] — pray excuse me. The sentence of the law is [puff] that you. Darby
Mahony [puff] — I really wonder how I came to pass you over — be taken hence
to prison, and from prison to the place of execution [puff] and there hanged
by the neck until you are dead [puff^ — I do hope you will excuse my mistake^
and may the Lord [puff] have mercy on your soul. That's all, my good man
[puff] — tui-nkey, remove Darby Mahony." The victim coolly turned round
as he was quitting the dock, exclaiming, " Faith, my Lord, I can't thank you
for your prayers, for I never heard of any one tliat throve after your making
them!" Norbury, who relished a retort, actually granted Darby a reprieve be
fore leaving the assize-town, and successfully recommended him for a commuta
tion of punishment on his return to Dublin. — M.

18 LOED NOEBUET.
mind ; and it is, I fancy, impossible for him to keep ludicrous
notions out. It is also but justice to him to add, that his jokes
were not, like the Duke of Lauderdale's, at the expense of the
prisoner, who stood aghast and dismayed before him ; and if
they showed that he did not entertain any very piofound sense
of the awfulness of the transition to another state of existence,
still, as they were not directed to the culprit at the bar, his
witticisms gave no indications of natural savageness of heart,
from which I believe him to be wholly free. His imagination
was hurried away by some whimsical idea, and the moment a
grotesque image presented itself, or a fantastical anecdote was
recalled to his recollection, he could not keep it in, but let it
involuntarily escape upon the court.
But these vagaries did not render the administration of jus
tice in his hands less terrific ; and while he himself gave way
to the merriment which he could not restrain, the countenances
of the crowds with which the public tribunals were filled, in their
fearful expression, as well as their ghastly color, exhibited an
awful contrast with his own. He could, indeed, with impunity
indulge in these judicial antics amid the assemblage of pallid
wretches by whom he was surrounded; when it might be justly
said, in reference to them and to the moral expression of his
visage and its complexion, " Cum tot palloribus siifficeret scevus
iste vultus, atque rubor, quo se contra pudorem mnniebat." In
his charges, too, he made ample compensation for the conun
drums with which he interrupted the examination of witnesses;
for he threw off in an instant the character of a jester, resum
ed the terrors of his deep and denunciating voice, and turning
to the prisoners, spoke of that eternity to which he was about
to despatch them, with an awfulness and solemnity which jus
tified Lord Glare, who objected to his being created a Chief-
Justice, in recommending that he should enter the church, and
be made a bishop.
The proposition that those brows, on which the black cap
had been so frequently and so conspicuously displayed, should
be invested with a mitre, did credit to Lord Clare, who, with
all his partiality for the church, was more solicitous for the
dignity of the judicial than the episcopal bench ; and had his

OHIEF-J0STICE CAELETON. 19
suggestion been adopted. Lord Norbury, attired in lawn, would
have proved an agreeable accession to the House of Lords, and
while he relieved the tedium of many a weary debate with his
pious jokes and his holy merriment, he would in all likelihood
have looked as appropriate a successor of the apostles as their
lordships of Ossory or Kilmore. If he had been created Arch
bishop of Dublin, what a spirit of good humor would have been
infused into our polemics ; how many a sacred jest would have
sparkled in his jovial and laughter-stirring homilies ! We
should have been spared a fierce and unprovoked aggression on
the religion of the people, and should never have seen a barb
ed and envenomed arrow shot from behind the altar, in shape
of a wanton and virulent antithesis. Lord Norbury officiating
as Archbishop of Dublin, presents a pleasant picture to the
mind, and of a character as truly Christian as the reality
affords. Unfortunately, however. Lord Clare was overruled ; and
Lord Norbury, having been created a peer, was raised to the
Chief-Justiceship of the Common Pleas, on the resignation of
Lord Carleton.* For some time the terrors w-hich had attend
ed him during the rebellion, continued to be associated with
his name ; but at length the recollections of the civil commotions
in which he had played so remarkable a part, began to subside
* Hugh Carleton, bom at Cork in 1739, was called to the Irish bar after
completing his education at Dublin University. He had little success for some
years, but rose to the office of Solicitor-General in 1779, which he retained
until the appointment of the Duke of Portland, as Viceroy. He was made
Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, in 1787 ; created Baron Carleton in 1789,
and raised to the rank of Viscount in 1797. After the Union, and when he had
quitted the judicial bench, Lord Carleton sat in the Imperial Parliament, as
one of the Irish Representative peers. He was very unpopular in Ireland —
chiefly owing to his harsh conduct toward the Sheareses, in 1798, when presi
ding at their trial, as previously related in page 99 of first volume. He allowed
them nothing like fair play in compelling their advocate, Mr. Curran, to enter
on their defence, at midnight, after the trial had already lasted sixteen hours.
In 1803, during Emmett's insurrection, when the populace met the can-iage of
Lord Kilwarden, Chief-Justice of the Queen's IJench, who was rather popular,
he was mistaken for Carleton, Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, and liter
ally killed by mistake. Lord Carleton had such a melancholy aspect and lu
gubrious manner that Curran declared him to be plaintiff (plaintive) in every
case that came before him. — M.

20 LOED NOEBUEY.
— his energy in the cause of government was forgotten —none
but the ridiculous points of his character stood out in any veiy
considerable prominence, and he lost even that species of re
spect which results from fear.
He was Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas from the year
1800, and diligently employed the whole of that period in
earning the reputation which he at length succeeded in estab
lishing through the empire. "Lord Norbury's last joke" has
long been the ordinary title to a pleasant paragraph in the
English newspapers :* but it is right to add, in his vindication,
* A vast number of puns, each paragraphed as " Lord Norbury's Last," ap
peared in the li-ish newspapers in his lifetime. Every editor who made a joke
sent it upon the worid as one of the Norbury family. His own jests were bet
ter than most of the imitations. A man of his rank was tried before him for
arson, and acquitted. The populace shrewdly gave the name of " Moscow" to
the ruins of his house. Norbury met him soon after, at a Castle lev^e. " Glad
to meet you here," said the judge. " This is my last bachelor's visit, my lord:
I am going to turn Benedict." Norbury looked him full in the face while he
responded, "Ay, St. Paul says better marry than bum." — When gi^'ing judg
ment on a writ of right, he declared that it was insufficient for a demandant
to say he " cl-aimed by descent. Such an answer," he continued, " would be
a shrewd one for a sweep, who had entered your house, by getting down the
chimney ; and it would be an easy, as well as a sweeping way, of getting in." —
A marine officer having canvassed for a directorship in the National Assm'ance
Company of Ireland (there really was such a body !) Lord Norbury stated that
he was very eligible, no doubt, from his experience in marine risks, his ha's'ing
received premiums for taking lives, and for ha-ving himself escaped all dam
ages from fire, though following a profession doubly hazardous ; " but," he
added, " inasmuch as the Captain does not hold the requisite number of shares
to qualify him, it is clear that his want of a sufficient stock of assurance is an
insurmountable bar to his election." — At Naas, on circuit, when a Counsel was
making a speech, an ass brayed very loudly outside, " One at tt time, gentle
men, if you please," said Norbuiy. Soon after, while his Lordship was ad
dressing the jury, the same long-cared quadruped again began to give tongue.
" What noise is that ?" The counsel retorted, " Only the echo of the Court, my
Lord !" — The Irish had great faith in Edmund Burke's patriotism, which had
supported what was called " The Independence of Ireland," \\z., when the
army of Volunteers, associated ,. in 1779, compelled tlie British Ministry to re
peal the Statute of the sixth of George I., declaring that Ireland was bound by
British acts of Parliament, if named therein, that the Irish House of Lords had
no jurisdiction in Irish cases of appeal ; and that the dernier ressort, in all cases,
must be to the peers of Great Bruain. Burkes son, Richard, was appointed
on a large nalaiy, to get up the petition to the Irish Parliament, from the Irish

HIS BUFFO PEEFOEIIEKS. 21
that much has been attributed to him which does not belong
to him ; and many a dealer in illegitimate wit, who was
ashamed of acknowledging his own productions, laid his spu
rious offspring at his lordship's door.
As he so essentially contributed to the amusement of the
public, he gradually grew into the general favor, and was
held in something like the reverence which is entertained by
the upper galleries for an eminent actor of farce. His per
formances at Nisi Prius were greatly preferable, in the decline
of the Dublin stage, to any theatrical exhibition ; and, as he
drew exceedingly full houses, Mr. Jones [patentee of Dublin
Theatre] began to look at him with some jealousy, and is said
to have been advised by Mr. Sergeant Goold, who had a share
of 663565 5.S. 6^d. in Crow-street Theatre, to file a bill for an
injunction against the Chief-Justice, for an infringement of his
patent. Lord Norbury was at the head of an excellent com
pany. The spirit of the judge extended itself naturally
enough to the counsel ; and men who were grave and consid-
Catholics. Ignoi-ant or regardless of the rules of the House of Commons, young
Burke determined to present the petition himself, and in the body not at the
bar of the House. He had reached the Treasury bench before he was per
ceived, and cries of " Privilege," and u " A stranger in the House" instantly
arose. The Speaker sonorously called on the sergeant-at-arms to do his duty.
Dreading arrest, Burke ran toward the bar, where he was faced by the sergeant
with a drawn sword ; returning, he was stopped, at the table, by the clerk. A
chase ensued, the members all keeping their seats, and, at last, Burke escaped
behind the Speaker's chair. In the debate which ensued, the sergeant-at-arms
was blamed for not having arrested Burke at the back-door. Sir Boyle Roche
asked, with much naivet^, " How could the officer stop him in the rear, while
he was catching him in the iront?" and emphatically declared that **no man
could be in two places at one time — ban-ing he was a bird!" When the
laughter at this had subsided, Norbury (then Mr. Toler) said "A few days
ago, I found an incident, like what has just now occurred, in the cross-read
ings of the columns of a newspaper. * Yesterday a petition was presented to
the House of Commons — it fortunately missed fire and the villain ran off.' "
This renewed th« mirth, and no further notice was taken df Burke's escapade.
I give the sally, to show how near to the confines of wit was the apt readiness
of Norbury's humor. — He had his joke to the very last. His neighbor. Lord
Erne, was far advanced in years and bedridden. When his own health failed,
he heard of his friend's increased illness. " James," said he to his servant,
" go next door, and tell Lord Erne, with my compliments, that it will be a
dead-heai between us." — M

22 LOED NOEBUET.
erate everywhere else, threw off all soberness and propriety,
and became infected with the habits of the venerable manager
of the court, the moment they entered the Common Pleas.
His principal performers were Messrs. Grady, Wallace, O'Con
nell, and (3^oold, who instituted a sort of rivalry in uproar, and
played against each other.
With such a judge, and such auxiliaries to co-operate with
him, some idea may be formed of the attractions which were
held out to that numerous class who have no fixed occupation,
and by whom, in the hope of laughing hunger away, the Four
Courts are frequented in Dublin. Long before Lord Norbury
took his seat, the galleries were densely filled with faces
strangely expressive of idleness, haggardness, and humor. At
about eleven his Lordship's registrar, Mr. Peter Jackson, used
to slide in with au official leer ; and a little after Lord Norbury
entered with a grotesque waddle, and, having bowed to the
Bar, cast his eyes round the court. Perceiving a full house, an
obvious expression of satisfaction pervaded his countenance ;
and if he saw any of his acquaintance of a noble family, such as
John Claudius Beresford, who had a good deal of time on his
hands, in the crowd, he ordered the tipstaff to make way for
him, and, in oa-der, I presume, to add to the dignity of the pro
ceedings, placed him beside himself on the bench.
While the jury were swearing, he either nodded familiarly
to most of them, occasionally observing, " A most respectable
man;'' or, if the above-mentioned celebrated member of the
house of Curraghmore* chanced to be next him, was engaged
in so pleasant a vein of whispering, that it was conjectured,
from the heartiness of his laugh, that he must have been talk
ing of the recreations of the Riding-house, and the amusements
of 1798.t The junior counsel having opened the pleadings.
Lord Norbury generally exclaimed, "A very promising young
man! Jackson, w^hat is that young gentleman's name?" —
" Mr.  , my Lord."—" What, of the county of Cork ?— I
* Curraghmore, in the County of Waterford. is the seat of the Marquis of
Waterford, head of the Beresford family. — M.
t The Riding-house was a place in Dublin, where Beresford used to have
suspected " rebels" flogged, with cruelty, to torture them into " loyalty." — M.

HFNEY DEANE GKADT. 23
knew it by his air. Sir, you are a gentleman of very high
pretensions, and I protest that I have never heard the many
counts stated in a more dignified manner in all my life : I
hope I shall find you, like the paper before me, a Daily Free
man in my court." Having despatched the junior, whom he
was sure to make the luckless, but sometimes not inappropriate
victim of his encomiums, he suffered the leading counsel to
proceed. As he was considered to have a strong bias toward the
plaintiff, experimental attorneys brought into the Common
Pleas the very worst and most discreditable adventures in
litigation. The statement of the case, therefore, generally
disclosed some paltry ground of action, which, however, did
not prevent his Lordship from exclaiming in the outset, "A
very important action indeed ! If you make out your facts in
evidence, Mr. Wallace, there will be serious matter for the
jury." The evidence was then produced ; and the witnesses
¦often consisted of wretches vomited out of stews and cellars,
whose emaciated and discolored countenances showed their
want and their depravity, while their watchful and working
eyes intimated that mixture of sagacity and humor by which
the lower order of Irish attestators is distinguished. They
generally appeared in coats and breeches, the external decency
of which, as they were hired for the occasion, was ludicrously
contrasted with the ragged and filthy shirt, which Mr. Henry
Deane Grady, who was well acquainted with " the inner man"
of an Irish witness, though not without repeated injunctions to
unbutton, at last compelled them to disclose.
The cross-examinations of this gentleman were admirable
pieces of the most serviceable and dexterous extravagance.
He was the Scarron of the Bar ; and few of the most practised
and skilful of the horde of perjurers whom he was employed
to encounter, could successfully withstand the exceedingly
droll and comical scrutiny through which he forced them to
pass. He had a sort of " Hail fellow, well met !" manner with
every varlet, which enabled him to get into his heart and core,
until he had completely turned him inside out, and excited
such a spirit of mirth, that the knave whom he was uncovering,

24 LOED NOEBUEY.
could not help joining in the merriment which the detection
of his villany had produced.
Lord Norbuiy, however, when he saw Mr. Grady pushing
the plaintiff to extremities, used to come to his aid, and rally
the broken recollections of the witness. This interposition
called the defendant's counsel into stronger action, and they
were as vigorously encountered by the counsel on the other
side. Interruption created remonstrance ; remonstrance called
forth retort ; retort generated sarcasm ; and at length voices
were raised so loud, and the blood of the forensic combatants
was so warmed, that a general scene of confusion, to which
Lord Norbuiy most amply contributed, took place.
Tlie uproar gradually increased till it became tremendous ;
and, to add to the tumult, a question of law, which threw
Lord Norbury's faculties into complete chaos, was thrown into
the conflict. Mr. Grady and Mr. O'Connell shouted upon one
side, Mr. Wallace and Mr. Goold upon the other, and at last,
Lord Norbury, the witnesses, the counsel, the parties, and the
audience, were involved in one universal riot, in which it was
difficult to determine whether the laughter of the audience, the
exclamations of the parties, the protestations of the witnesses,
the cries of the counsel, or the bellowing of Lord Norbury,
predominated. At length, however, his Lordship's superiority
of lungs prevailed ; and, like jEolus in his cavern (of whom,
with his puffed cheeks and inflamed visage, he would furnish
a painter with a model), he shouted his stormy subjects into
peace. These scenes repeatedly occurred during the trial,
until at last both parties had closed, and a new exhibition took
place. This was Lord Norbury's monologue, commonly called
a charge. He- usually began by pronouncing the loftiest encomiums
upon the party in the action, against whom he intended to
advise the jury to give their verdict. For this the audience
were well prepared ; and accordingly, after he had stated that
the defendant was one of the most honorable men alive, and
that he knew his father, and loved him, he suddenly came,
with a most singular emphasis, which he accompanied with a
strange shake of his wig, to the fatal " but," which made the

TOBY II'COEMICE. 25
audience, who were in expectation of it, burst into a fit of
laughter, while he proceeded to charge, as he almost uniformly
did, in the plaintiffs favor. He then entered more deeply, as
he said, into the case, and, flinging his judicial robe half aside,
and sometimes casting off his wig, started from his seat, and
threw off a wild harangue, in which neither law, method, nor
argument, could be discovered. It generally consisted of
narratives connected with the history of his early life, which
it was impossible to associate with the subject — of jests from
Joe Miller, mixed with jokes of his own manufacture, and of
sarcastic allusions to any of the counsel who had endeavored
to check him during the trial. He was exceedingly fond of
quotations from Milton and Shakspere, which, however out
of place, were very well delivered, and evinced an excellent
enunciation. At the conclusion of his charge, he made some
efforts to call the attention of the jury to any leading incident
which particularly struck him, but what he meant it was not
very easy to conjecture; and when he sat down, the whole
performance exhibited a mind which resembled a whirlpool of
mud, in which law, facts, arguments, and evidence, were lost
in unfathomable confusion.
Some years ago, I remember, at the close of his charges a
ludicrous incident, which was a kind of practical commentary,
sometimes took place. A poor maniac, well known about the
Hall, whose name was " Toby M'Cormick," had been a suitor
in the Common Pleas, and had lost his senses in consequence
of the loss of his cause. He regularly used to attend the court,
to which he was attracted by an odd fantasy : — Toby had got it
into his head that he was Lord Norbuiy himself, having merged
all consciousness of his own separate being in the strong image
of his Lordship which was constantly present to his mind,
while, upon the other hand, he took Lord Norbuiy for " Toby
M'Cormick;" believing that they had made a swap of their
personal identities, and exchanged their existence. This
strange madman, at the end of Lord Norbury's charges, used
to cry out, with some imitation of his manner, " Find for the
plaintiff!" and though not intended as a sarcasm upon his
habits, yet it was so just a satire that Lord Norbury was half
Vol. il— 2

26 LOED NOEBUEY.
di.spleased, and, turning to Peter Jackson, exclaimed, "Jack
son, turn Toby M'Cormick out of court !"
I feel that, in the portrait which I have endeavored to draw
of the late Chief-Justice of the Irish Common Pleas in presi
ding at the Nisi-Prius sittings, I have not at all come up to my
original. But to describe him in such a way as to match the
reality, would be, perhaps, impossible. To conceive what he
was, and his stupendous extravagances, it would have been
necessary to see the "eripwu avro," and have witnessed the prodigy
itself. It is no exaggeration to say, that as the wildest farce
upon the stage never raised more laughter than his exhibitions
from the bench, neither could any writer of dramatic drolleries,
who should undertake to draw him, embody the substantial
absurdity of his character in any fictitious representation. He
might have defied O'Keeffe himself; for although his law was
like Lingo's Latin, yet I do not think that even O'Keeffe's
genius for extravagance could have done Lord Norbury justice.
In his capacity of Judge, sitting in full court, with his three
coadjutors about him, he was almost as ludicrous as in his
more tumultuous office of jester at Nisi Prius.* I remember
* A few of Lord Norbury's jests, which are not in general currency, may be
worth mentioning here. — Sir Philip Crampton (father of the present British
Minister at Washington) was a remarkably fine-looking man, tall in stature,
erect in carriage, elegant in manner, graceful in movement. In 1824, when
George IV. visited " The emerald set in the ring of the sea,"
Sir Philip was Surgeon-General of Ireland, which high position he retains. Al
the King's Lev^e, he appeared in the rich military unifoi-m of Surgeon-General.
The monarch was immediately struck with his appearance, and, turning round
to Lord Norbury, who stood by his side, rubicund and burly, asked, " Who is
this very handsome officer?" With the merry twinkle of his eyes which
always accompanied Norbury's jokes, he answered, " May it please your Majes
ty, he is General of the Lancers." — Lord Norbury was in Tippe:ary taking
what he used to call his health ride. One of the countj- gentlemen, a Mr. Pep
per, joined him, but this deponent saith not whether he was mounted on " The
White Horse of the Peppers."- His steed, however, was handsome and spir^
ited, and Norbury (who was an excellent judge — of horse-flesh) paid him some
compliments on the animal. "Has plenty of life — eh?" Mr. Pepper an
swered, " So much, that he threw me over his head, the othei day." — " Named
him, yet?" Mr. Pepper said that ho had not. " Why, then," said the joker,
" considering who you are, and how he has served you, suppose you call him

.lUDGK MAYNK. 27
when the court presented, in his person, and in that of Judge
Mayne, a most amusing and laughable contrast. Never was
Eochefoucault's maxim, that " gravity is a mystery of the body
to hide the defects of the mind," more strongly exemplified
than in the solemn figure which sat for many years on Lord
Norbury's left hand, in his administration of the law. By the
profound stagnation of his calm and imperturbable visage.
which improved on Gratiano's description of a grave man, and
not more in stillness than in color resembled " a standing
pool;" by a certain shake of his head, which, moving with the
mechanical oscillation of a wooden mandarin, made him look
like the image of Confucius which is plastered on the dome of
the Four Courts ; by his long and measured sentences, which
issued in tones of oracular wisdom from his dry and ashy lips ;
Pepper-caster." — Going to a Lev^e at Dublin Castle, with another of the judg
es, they slipped when ascending the stairs. " Oh, my Lord," said Norbui-y,
as he rubbed the broadest part of his person, which had been barked by the
fall, '* you and I have tried many cases in our time, but the hardest case of all
is this staircase." — In 1816, when Prince Leopold, who was only a Serene
Highness (as only the son of a King can be addressed as Royal) was about
marrying the Princess Charlotte of Wales, he was complimented by her father,
then Prince Regent of England, with the title of " Royal Highness.'' This
was spoken of before Lord Norbuiy, who remarked that " Man-iage was the
true way of making a man lose his serenity." — A quaker named Nott opened a
large shop, exactly opposite that of Kinahan, the well-known Dublin grocer,
advertised his tea as cheaper and better than any in Ireland, and declared that
he would not vend any sugar, as it yielded no profit. The novelty of the con
cern and the excellence and low price of Nott's tea and coffee drew many cus
tomers to him and diminished the sales of Kinahan, his vis-a-vis neighbor.
Lord Norbury went to the Quaker's, bought fourteen pounds of tea (on which
the profit was large), and crossed over to Kinahan's, where he asked for a sup
ply of sugar, on which the profits are or were nominal. While Kinahan was
"having the sugar weighed, Nott's porter entered the shop with the large parcel
of tea for Lord Norbury. " Leave it there, on the counter," said my Lord.
Then, turning to Kinahan who was dismayed at seeing one of his oldest and
best customers a purchaser at his rival's, Norbury said, " I suppose, Mr. Kina
han, that 2/oii sell a great deal of sugar — by Nott selling tea." — Some thirty-
five years ago, a lusty negro wench, who was called "The Hottentot Venus,"
was publicly exhibited in Ireland, on account of the remarkable site of her
" Western Settlements." " I wonder," said Bushe, " whether she really was
a Queen in her own country — as she boasts." Norbury answered, " No doubt :
an ebony ruler, of course." — M.

28 ' LOED NOEBUEY.
by his slow and even gait, and his systematic and regulated
gesturi". Judge Mayne had contrived, when at the bar, to
impose liimself as a great lawyer on the public. When he
was made a judge, upon the day on which he for the first time
took his seat, Mr Keller, one of his contemporaries, and a
bitter wag, came into court, and seeing him enthroned in his
dignity, with his scarlet robes about him, leaned over the bar
bench, and, after musing fur some time, while he stretched out
his shrewd sardonic face, muttered to himself, " Well, Mayne,
there you are ! — there you have been raised by your gravity,
while my levity still sinks me here."
This pragmatical personage, who was considered deep,
while he was only dark and muddy, was fixed, as if for the
purposes of contrast, beside Lord Norbury, but so far from
diminishing the effect of his judicial drolleries, the vapid mel
ancholy of the one brought the vivacity of his companion into
stronger light. In truth, the solemnity of Judge Mayne was
nearly as comical as Lord Norbury's humor; and when, seeing
a man enter the court who had forgotten to uncover. Judge
Mayne rose and said, " I see you standing there like a wild
beast, with your hat on," — the pomp of utterance, and the
measured dignity with which this splendid figure in Irish
oratory was enunciated, excited nearly as much merriment as
the purposed jokes and the ostentatious merriment of the chief
of the court.
Nothing, not even Lord Norbury, could induce his brother
judge to smile. His features seemed to have some inherent
and natural incompatibility with laughter, which the Momus
of the bench could not remove. While peals rang upon peals
of merriment, and men were obliged to hold their sides, lest
they should burst with excess of ridicule. Judge Mayne stood
silent, starch, and composed, and never allowed his muscles of
rusty iron to give way in any unmeet and extra-judicial relax
ation. This union of the Allegro and Penseroso was invalua
ble to the seekers of fun in the Common Pleas, and it was
with regret that the merry public were informed that Judge
Mayne had been advised by his physicians to retire from the
bench and take up his residence in France. He went, I

JUDGE .TOHNSON. 29
nnderstand, to Paris, where he used occasionally to walk, in the
brilliant afternoons of that enchanting climate, in the garden
of the Tuileries, and, Scott's Quentin Durward being then in
vogue. Judge Mayne was taken for the spectre of Trois Echelles
The place of Judge Mayne was latterly supplied by a very
able man and an excellent lawyer, Mr. Justice Johnson ; and
then a scene of a different character, but still exceedingly amu
sing, was afforded. Lord Norbuiy was now most unhappily
situated, for he had Judge Fletcher upon one hand and Judge
Johnson upon the other. The former was a man of an uncom
monly vigorous and brawny mind, with a rude but powerful
grasp of thought, and with considerable acquirements, both in
literature and in his profession. He was destitute of all ele
gance, either mental or external, but made up for the deficiency
by the massive and robust character of his understanding. He
had been a devoted Whig at the bar, and hated Lord Norbury
for his politics, while he held his intellect in contempt. Dis
simulation was not among his attributes ; and, as his indifferent
health produced a great infirmity of temper (for he was the
converse of what a Frenchman defines as a happy man, and
had a bad stomach and a good heart), he was at no pains in
concealing his disrelish for his brother on the bench. Judge
Johnson, who occupied the seat on Lord Norbuiy's left hand,
completed his misfortunes in juxtaposition. There is nothing
whatever about Judge Johnson to be lauglie 1 at, although his
bursts of temperament may sometimes prevokc a smile ; but,
in adding to Lord Norbury's calamities, he augmented the di
versions of the court. He was less habitually atrabilious
than Judge Fletcher,* whose characteristic was moroseness
* In the rampant times of " Protestant Ascendency in Church and State,"
when the government policy was to report Ireland in a state of insurrectionary
feeling, and within a hair's-breadth of actual rebellions (so as to justify
coercive Acts of Parliament, with which to keep the people quiet). Judge
Fletcher gave immense offence to the ruling powers by his charges to Grand
Juries, on Circuit, in which he always stated, that if they were rightly governed
the Irish would be as well conducted as any people on earth. He used to tell
the country-gentlemen, too, that whenever a county, or a district, became dis
turbed, the great probability was that the landlords' oppressions (though middle
men) or neglect of duty caused the evil. — M.

so LOED NOEBUEY.
rather than irritability, but he had an honest vehemence and
impetuosity about him, which, whenever his sense of propriety
was violated, he could not restrain.
When the Chief-Justice, who was thus disastrously placed,
was giving judgment (if the olla-podrida which he served up
for the general entertainment can be so called), the spectacle
derived from the aspect of his brother-judges furnished a vast
accession of amusement. Judge Fletcher, indignant at all the
absurdity which was thrown up by Lord Norbury, and which
bespattered the bench, began expressing his disgust by the
character of bilious severity which spread over his countenance,
of which the main characteristic was a fierce sourness and a
scornful discontent. Judge Johnson, on the other hand, en
deavored to conceal his anger, and, placing his elbows on the
bench, and thrusting his clinched hands upon his mouth, tried
to stifle the indignation, with which, however, it was obvious
that he was beginning to tumefy. After a little while, a growl
was heard from Judge Fletcher, while Judge Johnson respond
ed with a groan. But, undeterred by any such gentle admo
nition, their incomparable brother, with a desperate intrepidity,
held on his way.
Judge Fletcher had a habit, when exceedingly displeased,
of rocking himself in his seat ; and, as he was of a considera
ble bulk, his swinging, which was known to be an intimation
of his augmenting anger, was familiar to the bar. As Lord
Norbury advanced, the oscillations, accompanied with a deeper
growling, described a greater segment of a circle, and shook
the whole bench ; while Judge Johnson, with his shaggy brows
bent and contracted over his face, and with his eyes flashing
with passion, used, with an occasional exclamation of mingled
indignation and disgust, to turn himself violently round. Still,
on Lord Norbury went ; until at length. Judge Fletcher, by
his pendulous vibrations, came into actual collision with him
upon one side, and Judge Johnson, by his averted shrug, hit
him on the shoulder upon the other; when, awakened by the
simultaneous shock, his Lordship gave a start, and, looking
round the bar, who were roaring with laughter at the whole
proceeding, discharged two or three puffs ; and, felicitating his

AS A POLITICIAN. 31
brothers on their urbanity and good manners, in revenge for
their contumelious estimate of his talents, generally called on
the tipstaff to bring him a judicial convenience, and, turning to
the wall of the court, retaliated from the bench for the asper
sions which they had cast upon him. From one of these two
formidable commentators he was latterly relieved, and although
Judge Johnson remained beside him, still, in the absence of
Judge Fletcher as an auxiliary, he became latterly somewhat
mitigated ; while Judge Moore, during the Chief-Justice's legal
expositions, did no more than intimate his feelings by a look of
good-natured commiseration ; and Judge Torrens* turned a
polite and fastidious smile, full of the gracefulness of the Horse-
Guards, upon his noble and learned brother.
Such was Lord Norbury as a Judge. It remains to say a
few words of him as a politician. It is almost unnecessary to
state that, with such intellectual endowments, he did not coin
cide with Grattan, and Curran, and Plunket, and Bushe, in the
views which were taken by those inferior persons of the inter
est of their country, but that he agreed in principle and in feel
ing with Doctor Duigenan, Mr. Dawson, and Sir George Hill,t
* James ToiTens, senior puisne judge of the Common Pleas in Ireland, is
brother to the late Sir Henry Torrens, who accompanied "The Duke" (then
Sir Arthm: Wellesley), to Portugal, acted as his Military Secretary, finally (in
1820) became an Adjutant-General of the British army, was the intimate con
fidant of the Duke of York, and died in 1828. — This relationship, backed by
his own reputation as a lawyer, obtained Mr. Torrens' advancement to the
bench. — M.
t Sir George Hill and Mr. George Robert Dawson were the Protestant
Ascendency members for the city of Londonderry. The name of the former
will be recollected, not for any merits of him who bore it, but in connection
with the arrest of Tone. In September, 1798, Tone, then holding a military
commission under the French Directory, went to make a descent upon Ireland,
with three thousand men, and a small naval force under Admiral Bompert.
The expedition was met by a British squadron under Admiral Warren. A bat
tle ensued, and, after a gallant combat of six hours' duration, the French were
defeated. Tone, who had commanded a battery on board the Admiral's ship, was
among the captured officers. He was not recognised — perhaps some who knew
him generously avoided doing so. It was suspected that he was of the party.
Sir George Hill, his fellow-student at Trinity college, volunteered to identify
him. While the prisoners were breakfasting with the Earl of Cavan, tliey
were disturbed by Hill and a party of police-officers. Stepping up to Tone, he

32 LOED NOEBUEY.
and the rest of the illustrious statesmen by whom the cause of
Ascendency has been so firmly and so appropriately supported.
Lord Norbuiy was an excellent and uniform Protestant. This
was always well known in Ireland, but, his buffoonery having
swollen up and concealed the other traits of his character, little
notice was taken of his personal predilections.
It was, indeed, his habit to deliver orations to the grand-
jury upon the church and state in the -home circuit; and in
reference to I. K. L.* he often poured out a tirade against
"Moll Doyle," one of the wild personifications of agi-arian in
surrection in the south of Ireland ; but, however indecorous
these allusions were deemed in a Chief-Justice, the people
were so much accustomed to laugh at his Lordship, that even
where there was good cause for remonstrance, they could not
be prevailed on to regard anything he did in a serious way.
As carte blanche is given to Grimaldi,t the public allowed Lord
Norbury an unlimited license ; and in law, politics, and religion,
never placed any restraint upon him. At length, however, an
said, " Mr. Tone, I am very happy to see you." With much composure Tone
replied that he was happy to see Sir George, and politely inquired after Lady
Hill. Tone was taken into another room, ironed, sent off to Dublin, tried by
com't-martial, and sentenced to death, which he anticipated by suicide. —
George Robert Dawson, man-ied to Sir Robert Peel's sister, held office under
the Duke of Wellington's Administration, and had long been a decided oppo
nent of the Catholic Claims, In 1828, at a Corporation dinner, in London
derry, he ventured to hint that it might be better to settle the Catholic ques
tion, by fair concession, than hazard civil war by continuing to oppose it. This,
at such a meeting, was received with, groans and hisses. The Orange press
denounced Dawson as a traitor— but more rational politicians felt that a Gov
ernment official would never have uttered such words, except with some knowl
edge of a coming change of measures, and this was confii-med by Dawson's
continuing in office. It was seen that something was in agitation, and that
Dawson's speech was a/eeZer. A few months after this, Catholic Emancip.ition
was granted. — Mr. Dawson, who is an excellent man of business, uniting talent
with industry, and conscientious principle with both, is now Deputy-Chairman
of the Commissioners of Customs, in England. — M.
* The late Dr. Doyle, Catholic Bishop of Kildare and Leighlin. — M.
t Joseph Grimaldi, bom in 1779, and deceased in 1837, was noted and pup-
pular, in London, for forty years, as an unrivalled pantomimic clown at the
theatres. His biographer speaks of a " rich and (paradoxical as the term may
seem) intellectual buffoonery, peculiarly his own — portraying to the life all that
is grotesque in manners, or droll in action." — M.

ME. SAUETn's LETl'EE. 33
event occurred which awakened the general notice; and, as
there was another and a very obnoxious individual concerned,
excited among the Uoman Catholics universal indignation.
Lord Norbury has been always remarkable for his frugality.
He was in the habit of stuffing papers into the old chairs. in his
study, in order to supply the deficiency of horse-hair which the
incumbency of eighty years had produced in their bottoms.
At last, however, they became, even with the aid of this occa
sional supplement, unfit for use, and were sent by his Lordship
to a shop in which old furniture was advertised to be bought
and sold. An individual of the name of Monaglian got one
of these chairs into his possession, and, finding it stuffed with
papers, drew them out. He had been a clerk in an attorney's
office, and knew Mr. Saurin's handwriting. He perceived, by
the superscription of a letter, that it was written by the Attor
ney-General, and on opening it he found the following words
addressed to a Chief-Justice, and a going Judge of assize, by
the principal law-officer of the Crown : — "Dublin Castle, August Q.
" I transcribe for you a very sensible part of Lord Ross's^ letter to me, ' As,
Lord Norbury goes our circuit, and as he is personally acquainted with the
* Lord Ross, who advises Mr, Saurin to adopt the course which he so faith
fully pursued, was once Sir Laurence Parsons, and was in the habit of speaking
in the Irish House of Commons in favor of emancipation. He was not only
an orator, but a poet. In the appendix to the first volume of " Wolfe Tone's
Memoirs," a poem is inserted, which would have entitled him to the place of
Laureate to the United Irishmen. The following are the opening lines : —
" How long, O Slaveiy ! shall thine iron mace
Wave o'er this isle, and crouch its abject race ?
Full many a dastard century we've bent ^
Beneath thy terrors, -wi-etched and content.
" What though with haughty aiTogance of pride
England shall o'er this long-duped country stride.
And lay on stripe on stripe, and shame on shame.
And brand to all eternity its name :
" 'Tis right, well done, bear all and more, I say.
Nay, ten times more, and then for more still pray !
Wliat state in something would not foremost be?
She strives for fame,ithou for servility."
[The present Earl of Rosse, born in 1800, confers a lustre on the title far
greater than what he derives from it. His successful devotion to the physical

34: LOED NOEBUEY.
gentlemen of our county, a hint to him may be of use. He is in the habit of
talking individually to them in his chamber at Phillipstown ; and if he were to
impress on them the consequence of the measure, -viz., that however they may
think othei-wise, the Catholics would, in spite of them, elect Catholic members
(if such were eligible), that the Catholic members would then have the nomi
nation of sheriffs, and in many instances, perhaps of the judges ; and the Protes
tants would be put in the back-ground, as the Protestants were formerly ; I
think he would bring the effect of the measure home to themselves, and satisfy
them that they could scarcely submit to live in the country if it were passed.*
So far Lord Ross. But what he suggests in another part of his letter, that ' if
Protestant gentlemen, who have votes and influence and interest, would give
these venal members to understand that if they will purchase Catholic votes by
betraying their country and its constitution, they shall infaUibly lose theirs; it
would alter their conduct, though it could neither make them honest or respect
able. If you will judiciously administer [,','] a little of this medicine to the
King's County, and other members of Pai-liament, that may fall in your way,
you will deserve well. Many thanks for your letter, and its good inteUigence
fi-ora Maryborough. Jebb is a most valuable fellow, and of the sort that is
most wanted.' " Affectionately and truly yours,
" William Saurin."
When this letter was first disclosed, it was vehemently as
serted by Mr. Saurin's friends, that a man of his fame and
constitutional principles could not have written it, and they
alleged that it was a mere fabrication ; but afterward, when
the handwriting was perceived to be indisputable, and the
author of the letter did not dare to deny its authenticity, Mr.
Peel, and the other advocates of Mr. Saurin, contented them
selves with exclaiming against the mere impropriety of its pro
duction. From this ground of imputation they were, however,
effectually driven by Mr. Brougham,! when he called to the
Minister's recollection, and especially to that of the Secretary
of the Home Department, whom it chiefly concerned, the foul
sciences, especiuUy to optics and astronomy, has given him high place among
the knowledge-seekers of the age. In 1849, Lord Rosse was elected President
ot the Royal Society of England, — M,
t Mr, Brougham laid a trap for Mr, Peel, The writer of this article was
told, upon good authority, that he introduced Mr, Saurin's letter into the de
bate, m order to allure Mr. Peel into a censure of the use which had been
made of it. The latter fell into the snare, and the moment he began to inveigh
agamst the production of the letter, Mr, Brougham, who had been intendy
and impatiently watching him, slapped his knee, and cried, " I have him <"

QUEEN CAEOHNE S TEIAL. 35
means adopted to get at evidence against the Queen.* Since
that time we have heard no more of the violation of all good
feeling in the Catholics, when they availed themselves of a
document in the handwriting of an Attorney-General, in order
to establish the fact which had been frequently insisted on,
that poison had been poured into the highest sources of jus
tice. The moral indignation of Protestants has subsided, but they
have not recovered from their astonishment, that a man so
cautious and deliberate as William Saurin, should have put
himself in the power of such a person as Lord Norbury, and
intrusted him with a communication, which has eventually
proved so fatal to himself. He must have known the habits
of the man, and it is difficult to conceive how he could look
upon the alliance of so singular an individual as of importance
to his party, or regard him as likely to produce any impression
upon the grand juries to which his loyal exhortations were to
be addressed.
The discovery of this letter has been of great prejudice to
Mr. Saurin, as it renders it impossible to promote him, with
any sort of decency, after such a proceeding ; but it was of
use to Lord Norbuiy. When his incompetence in his office
was mentioned in Parliament, the Orange faction considered
* The manner which the evidence against Queen Caroline, consort of George
IV., was got up by the British Government was illegal. The scale of pay
ment was in a manner regulated by the extent of the evidence given ! The
more damning the testimony, the greater the reward. — Thei-e always has been
a popular heUef in England (though the fact was denied, as if on authority, by
Fox, in Parliament), that George IV*. was married, pre-vious to his union with
Caroline of Brunswick, to Mrs. Fitzherbert — the lady described as " fat, fair,
and forty," when he first met her. It was on this marriage, and the subsequent
royal repudiation of the lady, that Moore wrote the Irish Melody, " When first
I met thee, warm and young,'' which Byron was fond of chanting, in his soli
tary hours at Venice, where (louse his own words) " like a hunted stag, he
had taken to the waters, and there stood at bay." — Qu^en Caroline had her
joke on the liaison or marriage (whichever it might be) with Mrs. Fitzherbert,
and said, in 1820, " I never was guilty of adultery but once — and that was with
Mrs. Fitzherbert's husband !" Another of her hits was her saying, when asked,
on her return to England, where she intended to stop in London, "I think I
shall take a chop at the King's Head." — M.

36 LOED NOEBUEY.
themselves bound by that principle of fidelity to each other,
by which, to do them justice, they are characterized to sup
port a very zealous, if not a very re-spectable partisan ; and
accordingly Mr. Goulburn, with the effrontery which distin
guishes him, pronounced a panegyric upon his judicial excel
lences, and stated (to the great and just indignation of the
other judges of the Common Pleas) that in a difficult and com
plicated case he had evinced more knowledge and astuteness
than any of them. To this encomium, Mr. Peel, with all his
manliness, and although he values himself on his reformation
of the abuses of justice, gave his sanction. Lord Norbury,
finding himself sustained by his party in the House of Com
mons, turned a deaf ear to all private solicitations, of which
his resignation was the object.*
At length Mr. O'Connell presented a petition for his removal,
setting forth, among other grounds, that he had fallen asleep
during the trial of a murder case, and was unable to give any
account of the evidence, when called on for his notes by the
Lord Lieutenant. Mr. Scarlett,t to whom the petition was
* When it was detei-mined to give Lord Norbui-y a hint that it was time to
retil-e, the task — which was one of delicacy, if not of peril — was confided
to William Gregory, then under-secretary for Ireland, Norbury got scent of
the object of his visit, and, the moment he appeared, locked the door, -with a
confidential and grave air, and said, " You are one of my best and oldest friends,
I was just -writing for you to come here, when I heard your voice. I am told
that I am to be insulted — that they mean to ask me to resign. The mock-
monarch in Phoenix Park is irresponsible, but the hack that he sends shall be
his proxy. I'll have his life, or he'll have mine — ay, if he were my brother.
My old friend Gregory, you will stand by me ? Here ai-e the hair-triggers."
Here he opened his pistol-case. " Here they are, as ready now as -when they
blazed at Fitzgerald, and almost frightened Napper Tandy out of his skin. Stay
and dine with me, and we'll talk it over," — Peaceable Mr, Gregory declined
the invitation, but did not perfoiTn his mission. That, however, was done by
letter from Peel, who was then Home Secretary. The rest of the story, as to
the forced resignation, is exactly as Mr. Shell tells it. Norbury made good
terms — two steps in'the peerage (he Avas raised from the dignity of Baron to
that of Viscount and Earl), and a pension of four thousand pounds a year. — M.
t James Scarlett, afterward Lord Abinger, was more distinguished as an ad
vocate than a judge. Bom in Jamaica, in 1769 (bis brother was Chief- Justice
of the island), Mr. Scarlett was called to the English Bax, in 1791, closely
and patiently studied the law (chiefly making himself acquainted with the mod-

HIS ENFOECIiD EKSIGNATION. 37
intrusted, did not move upon it, in consequence of a personal
assurance from Mr. Peel, that he would do everything in his
power to induce him, of his own accord, to retire. For although
Mr. Peel ostensibly defended him as a friend and partisan,
yet he was, in reality, ashamed of such an incubus upon the
bench. Lord Norbury at last went so far as to intimate that
Le would consult his friends on the subject, and required a
reasonable time to do so, which was accordingly granted.
After the lapse of a month, Mr. Goulburn called again to know
the result of his deliberations, when his lordship stated that
Lord Combermere was his most particular friend, and that he
had written to him at Calcutta. Mr. Goulburn, finding himself
thus evaded, and being conscious that he was as well qualified
at eighty-six as he had ever been (for no increased hallucina
tion is perceptible about him), was a good deal at a loss what
to do. But suddenly Mr. Canning became lord of the ascen
dant ; and Lord Norbury, who never wanted sagacity, feeling
that under the new system he could not expect the support of
ministers, wisely came into terms; and having stipulated for
an earldom, as a consideration, resigned in favor of Lord Plun-
em reports), chose the northern circuit, and became distinguished, almost from
starting, for his knowledge of law and his dexterous examination of witnesses.
In 1816, he was made King's Counsel, and entered Parliament, as a Whig, in
1818, He was not a good debater and did not shine as a senator. His votes
were on the liberal side, and he supported the attempts of Romilly and Macin
tosh to ameliorate the Draconian severity of the criminal code. Under Can
ning's administration, in 1827, Mr. Scarlett was made Solicitor-General and
knighted. He retained office under the Wellington Cabinet — changing his
political opinions, much to the damage of his popularity. When Catholic
Emancipation was granted, in 1829, he succeeded to the office of Attorney-
General, vacated by Sir Charles Wetherell, who was hostile to the measure,
and earned additional unpopularity by a crusade against the press. For this,
he was introduced into Bulwer's Paul Clifford, as " Scarlett Jem, good at »
press." When his old friends, the Whigs, came into office in 1830, they cash
iered their quondam ally. But, in 1834, under Peel's premiership. Sir James
Scarlett was made Chief-Baron of the Exchequer, and raised to the peerage.
Latterly, ill health made his temper irritable. He had to preside, in 1841, at
the trial of certain Chartists charged with sedition, and exhibited such an angry
partisan feeling against them as to cause much pubHc disapprobation, and s&.-ne
parliamentary censure. He died, in 1844, in his seventy-fifth year.— M.

38 LOED NOEBUEY.
ket, who, like an unskilful aeronaut, has made a bad descent
into the Common Pleas,*
Thus had this man, without talent, or knowledge, or any
thing to recommend him, beyond his personal and animal
spirit, to the favor of government, raised himself to a high
station on the bench, which he enjoyed for seven-and-twenty
years ; and now, laden with wealth, effects his retreat through a
loftier grade in the peerage. He has accumulated an immense
fortune, partly from the lucrative offices of which he was so
long in the enjoyment, and partly through his rigid economy.
I ought not, however, to omit that, parsimonious as his habits
are, still they do not prevent him from exercising the best kind
of charity, for he is an excellent landlord. In his dealings
with his inferiors, too (I gladly avail myself of the opportunity
of bestowing on him such praise as he deserves), he is kind
and considerate ; and toward his domestics is a gentle and
forbearing master. In his deportment to the Bar, too, he was
undeviatingly polite, and never forgot that he was himself a
member of the profession, on which the recollection of every
judge should forbid him to trample. In private society, he is
a most agreeable, although a very grotesque companion.
He is not wholly destitute of literature ; having a great
"¦ John Toler, who died Earl and Baron Norbui-y and Viscount Glandine
(having also obtained a distinct peerage for his wife), was bom in 1745, and
was the son of a country gentleman in Tipperary, He was called to the Irish
bar in 1770 ; entered Pariiament in 1776 ; obtained a silk go-wn in 1781 ; was
made Solicitor-General in 1789 ; succeeded Wolfe as Attorney-General, in 1798,
was made Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas in 1800, being created Baron
Norbury ; retired in 1827, bargaining for two steps in the peerage, and a pen
sion of four thousand pounds sterling a year ; and died in July, 1831, aged
eighty-six, Peihaps no one ever wore the ermine so wholly unqualified for its
dignity and responsibility, as Lord Norbuiy, So cruel, that he was called " the
hanging judge ;" so indecorous, that he would jest, even at the expense of the
wretch he was dooming to the gallows ; so callous, that pubUc reprobation never
galled him; so partial, that power, however unjust, might count upon his
assistance; so bad a lawyer, that the merest tyi-o in the profession had often to
set him right. Traly was it said, when he died, " Mercy droops not beside
his tomb; nor will justice, eloquence, or learning, stretch themselves within it."
In a word, among bad men, at a time when oppression and injustice prevailed,
one of tlie very worst was this wicked judge. Lord Norbury,— M.

HIS LTBEAEY. 39
memory, he is fond of repeating passages from the older poets,
which he recites with propriety and force. Of modern authors
lie is wholly ignorant, nor is a new book to be found in his
library. His study presents, indeed, a curious spectacle. In
the centre of the room lies a heap of old papers, covered with
dust, mingled with political pamphlets, written some forty
years ago, together with an odd volume of the " Irish Parlia
mentary Debates," recording the speeches of Mr. Sergeant
Toler. On the shelves, which are half empty, and exhibit a
most "beggarly account," there are some forty moth-eaten law
books ; and by their side appear odd volumes of " Peregrine
Pickle," and " Eoderick Random," with the "Newgate Calen
dar," complete. A couple of wornont saddles, with rusty stir
rups, hang from the top of one of the bookcases, which are
enveloped with cobwebs; and a long line of veteran boots
of mouldy leather are arrayed on the opposite side of the
room. King William's picture stands over the chimney-piece,
with prints of Eclipse and other celebrated racers, from which
his lordship's politics, and other predilections, may be col
lected. He was a remarkably good horseman, and even now always
appears well mounted in the streets. A servant, dressed in
an ancient livery, rides close beside him ; and by his very
proximity and care, assists a certain association with loneli
ness which has begun to attend him. He has, in truth, assumed
of late a very dreary and desolate aspect. When he rode
to court, as he did every day while a judge, he exhibited, for
his time of life, great alacrity and spirit ; and as he passed by
Mr. Joy, whom he looked upon as his probable successor, put
ting spurs to his horse, he cantered rapidly along. But now
Le is without occupation or pursuit, and looks alone in the
world. His gayety is gone, and when he stops an old ac
quaintance in the street to inquire how the world wags, his
voice and manner exhibit a certain wandering and oblivion,
while his face seems at once dull, melancholy, and abstracted.
Sometimes he rides beyond Dublin, and is to be met in
lonely and unfrequented roads, looking as if he was musing
over mournful recollections, or approaching to a suspension of

40 LOED NOEBUEY.
all thought. Not many days ago, on my return to town from
a short excursion in the country, as the evening drew on, I
saw him riding near a cemetery, while the chill breezes of
October were beginning to grow bitter, and the leaves were
falling rapidly from the old and withered trees in the adjoin
ing churchyard. The wind had an additional bleakness as it
blew over the residences of the dead ; and although it im
parted to his red and manly cheeks a stronger flush, still, as it
stirred his gray locks, it seemed with its wintry murmurs to
whisper to the old man a funeral admonition. He appeared,
as he urged on his horse and tried to hurry from so dismal a
scene, to shrink and huddle himself from the blast. In anti
cipation of an event, which can not be remote (while I forgot
all his political errors,.and only remembered how often he had
beguiled a tedious hour, and set the Four Courts in a roar), I
could not help muttering, as I passed him, with some feeling
of regret, " Alas, poor Yorick !"

CLONMEL ASSI-ZES.
The delineation of the leading members of the Irish bar is
not the only object of these sketches. It is my purpose to
describe the striking scenes, and to record the remarkable in
cidents, which fall within my own forensic observation. That
these incidents and scenes should take place in our courts of
justice, affords a sufficient justification for making the " Sketches
of the Irish Bar" the medium of their narration. I might also
suggest that the character of the bar itself is more or less influ
enced by the nature of the business in which it is engaged.
The mind of any man who habitually attends the assizes of
Clonmel carries deep, and not perhaps the most useful, impres
sions away from it. How often have I reproached myself with
having joined in the boisterous merriment which either the
jests of counsel or the droll perjuries of the witnesses have
produced during the trial of a capital offence ! How often
Lave I seen the bench, the jury, the bar, and the galleries, of
an Irish court of justice, in a roar of tumultuous laughter, while
I beheld in the dock the wild and haggard face of a wretch
who, placed on the verge of eternity, seemed to be surveying
the gulf on the brink of which he stood, and presented, in his
ghastly aspect and motionless demeanor, a reproof of the spirit
of hilarity with which he was to be sent before his God !
It is not that there is any kind of cruelty intermixed with
this tendency to mirth ; but that the perpetual recurrence of
incidents of the most awful character divests them of the power
of producing effect, and that they —
" Whose fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
As life were in 't" —

42 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
acquire such a familiarity with direness, that they become not
only insensible to the dreadful nature of the spectacles which
are presented, but scarcely conscious of them. But it is not
merely because the bar itself is under the operation of the inci
dents which furnish the materials of their professional occupa
tion that I have selected the last assizes at Clonmel as the
subject of this article. The extensive circulation of this peri
odical work affords the opportunity of putting the English pub
lic in possession of many illustrative facts ; and in nan-ating
the events which attended the murder of Daniel Mara, and the
trial of his assassins, I propose to myself the useful end of fix
ing the general attention upon a state of things which ought
to lead all wise and good men to the consideration of the only
effectual means by which the evils which result from the moral
condition of the country may be remedied.*
In the month of April, 1827, a gentleman of the name of
Chadwick was murdered in the open day, at a place called
Eath Cannon, in the immediate vicinity of the old Abbey of
Holycross. Mr. Chadwick was the member of an influential
family, and was employed as land-agent in collecting their
rents. The person who fills this office in England is called
" a steward ;" but in Ireland it is designated by the more hon
orable name of a land-agency. The discharge of the duties
of this situation must be always more or less obnoxious. In
times of public distress, the landlord, who is himself urged by
his own creditors, urges his agent on, and the latter inflicts
upon the tenants the necessities of his employer.
I have heard that Mr. Chadwick was not peculiarly rigorous
in the exaction of rent, but he was singularly injudicious in
his demeanor toward the lower orders. He believed that tke-y
detested him ; and, possessing personal courage, bade them
defiance. He was not a man of a bad heart ; but was despotic
and contumelious in his manners to those whose hatred he re
turned with contempt. It is said that lie used to stand among
a body of the peasantry, and, observing that his corpulency
was on the increase, was accustomed to exclaim, " I think I
am fattening upon your curses !" In answer to these taunts,
* This sketch was published in July, 1828. — M.

MUEDKK OF ME. CHADWICK. 43
the peasants who surrounded liim, and who were well habitu
ated to the concealment of their fierce and terrible passions,
affected to laugh, and said that " his honor was mighty pleas
ant; and sure his honor, God bless him, was always fond of
Lis joke !" But while they indulged in the sycophancy under
which they are wont to smother their sanguinary detestations,
they were lying in wait for the occasion of revenge. Perhaps,
however, they would not have proceeded to the extremities to
which they had recourse, but for a determination evinced by
Mr. Chadwick to take effectual means for keeping them in awe.
He set about building a police-barrack at Eath Cannon. It
was resolved that Mr. Chadwick should die.
This decision was not the result of individual vengeance.
The wide confederacy into which the lower orders are organ
ized in Tipperary held council upon him, and the village are-
opagus pronounced his sentence. It remained to find an exe
cutioner. Patrick Grace, who was almost a boy, but was distinguished
by various feats of guilty courage, offered himself as a volun
teer in what was regarded by him as an honorable cause. He
had set up in the county as a sort of knight-errant against
landlords ; and, in the spirit of a barbarous chivalry, proffered
Lis gratuitous services wherever what he conceived to be a
wrong was to be redressed. He proceeded to Rath Cannon ;
and, without adopting any sort of precaution, and while the
public road was traversed by numerous passengers, in the broad
daylight, and just beside the barrack, in the construction of
which Mr. Chadwick was engaged, shot that unfortunate gen
tleman, who fell instantly dead.
This dreadful crime produced a great sensation, not only in
the county where it was perpetrated, but through the whole of
Ireland. When it was announced in Dublin, it created a sort
of dismay, as it evinced the spirit of atrocious intrepidity to
which the peasantry had been roused. It was justly accounted,
by those who looked upon this savage assassination with most
horror, as furnishing evidence of the moral condition of the
people, and as intimating the consequences which might be
anticipated from the ferocity of the peasantry, if ever they

44 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
should be let loose. Patrick Grace calculated on impunity ;
but his confidence in the power and terrors of the confederacy
with which he was associated was mistaken. A brave, and a
religious man, whose name was Philip Mara, was present at
the murder. He was standing beside his employer, Mr. Chad
wick, and saw Grace put him deliberately to death. Grace
was well aware that Mara had seen him, but did not believe
that he would dare to give evidence against him. It is proba
ble, too, that he conjectured that Mara coincided with him in
his ethics of assassination, and applauded the proceeding.
Mara, however, who was a moral and virtuous man, was horror-
struck by what he had beheld ; and, under the influence of
conscientious feelings, gave immediate information to a magis
trate. Patrick Grace was arrested, and tried at the summer
assizes of 1827.
I was not present at his trial, but have heard from good au
thority that he displayed a fearless demeanor; and that when
Le was convicted upon the evidence of Philip Mara, he de
clared that before a year should go by he should have ven
geance in the grave. He was ordered to be executed near the
spot where his misdeed had been perpetrated. This was a
signal mistake, and produced an effect exactly the reverse of
what was contemplated. The lower orders looked upon him
as a martyr ; and his deportment, personal beauty, and un
daunted courage, rendered him an object of deep interest and
sympathy upon the scaffold. He was attended by a body of
troops to the old Abbey of Holycross, where not less than
fifteen thousand people assembled to behold him.
The site of the execution rendered the spectacle a most stri
king one. The Abbey of Holycross is the finest and most ven
erable monastic ruin in Ireland. Most travellers turn from
their way to survey it, and leave it with a deep impression of
its solemnity and grandeur. A vast multitude was assembled
round the scaffold. The prisoner was brought forward in the
midst of the profound silence of the people. He ascended and
surveyed them ; and looked upon the ruins of the edifice which
had once been dedicated to the worship of his religion, and to
the sepulchres of the dead which were strewed among its aisles,

EXECUTION OF PATEICK GEACE. 45
and had been for ages as he was in a few minutes about to be.
It was not known whether he would call for vengeance from
Lis survivors, or for mercy from Heaven. His kindred, his
close friends, his early companions, all that he loved, and all
to whom he was dear, were around him, and nothing, except
a universal sob from his female relatives, disturbed the awful
taciturnity that prevailed. At the side of Patrick Grace stood
the priest — the mild admonitor of the heart, the soother of
affliction, and the preceptor of forgiveness — who attended him
in the last office of humanity, and who proved by the result
how well he had performed it.
To the disappointment of the people, Patrick Grace ex
pressed himself profoundly contrite ; and, although he evinced
no fear of death, at the instance of the Roman Catholic clergy
man who attended him, implored the people to take warning
by his example. In a few moments after, he left existence.
But the effect of his execution will be estimated by this re
markable incident. His gloves were handed by one of his
relations to an old man of the name of John Russel, as a keep
sake. Eussel drew them on, and declared at the same time
that he should wear them "till Paddy Grace was revenged;"
and revenged he soon afterward was, within the time which
he had himself prescribed for retribution, and in a manner
which is as much calculated to excite astonishment at the
strangeness, as detestation for the atrocity of the crime, of
which I proceed to narrate the details.
Philip Mara was removed by Government from the country.
It was perfectly obvious that, if he had continued to sojourn in
Tipperary, his life would have been taken speedily, and at all
hazards, away. It was decided that all his kindred should be
exterminated. He had three brothers ; and the bare consan
guinity with a traitor (fbr his crime was treason) was regarded
as a sufficient offence to justify their immolation. If they
could not procure his own blood for the purposes of sacrifice,
it was however something to make libation of that which
flowed from the same source. The crimes of the Irish are de
rived from the same origin as their virtues. They have pow
erful domestic attachments. Their love and devotion to their

46 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
kindred instruct them in the worst expedients of atrocity.
Knowing the affection which Mara had for his brothers, they
found the way to his heart in the kindest instincts of humani
ty ; and, from the consciousness of the pain which the murder
of " his mother's children" would inflict, determined that he
should endure it.
It must be owned that there is a dreadful policy in this sys
tem. The Government may withdraw their witnesses from the
country, and afford them protection ; but their wives, their off
spring, their parents, their brothers, sisters, nay their remotest
relatives, can not be secure, and the vengeance of the ferocious
peasantry, if defrauded of its more immediate and natural
object, will satiate itself with some other victim. It was in
conformity with these atrocious principles of revenge that the
murder of the brothers of Philip Mara was resolved upon.
Strange to tell, the whole body of the peasantry in the neigh
borhood of Eath Cannon, and far beyond it, entered into a
league, for the perpetration of this abominable crime ; and
while the individuals who were marked out for massacre were
unconscious of what was going forward, scarcely a man, woman,
or child, looked them in the face who did not know that they
were marked out for death.
They were masons by trade, and were employed in building
the barrack at Eath Cannon, on the spot where Chadwick had
been assassinated, and where the funeral of Patrick Grace (for
so his execution was called) had been performed. The peas
antry looked in all probability with an evil eye upon every
man who had put his hand to this obnoxious work; but their
main object was the extermination of Philip Mara's brothers.
They were three in number — Daniel, Laurence, and Timothy.
On the first of October they were at work, with an apprentice
in the mason trade, at the barrack at Rath Cannon. The name
of this apprentice was Hickey. In the evening, about five
o'clock, they left off their work, and were returning homeward,
when eight men with arms rushed upon them. They were
fired at ; but the firearms of the assassins were in such bad con
dition, that the discharge of their rude musketry had no effect.
Laurence, Timothy, and the apprentice, fled in different direc-

MUEDKE or DANIEL MAE A 47
tions, and escaped. Dapiel Mara lost his presence of mind,
and instead of taking the same route as the others, ran into the
Louse of a poor widow. He was pursued by the murderers,
one of whom got in by a small window, while the others burst
through the door, and with circumstances of great savageness
put him to death.
The intelligence of this event produced a still greater sen
sation than the murder of Chadwick; and was as much the
subject of comment as some great political incident, fraught
with national consequences, in the metropolis. The Govern
ment lost no time in issuing proclamations, offering a reward
of two thousand pounds sterling for information which should
bring the assassins to justice. The magnitude of the sum in
duced the hope that its temptation would be found irresistible
to poverty and destitution so great as that which prevails
among the class of ordinary malefactors. It was well known
that hundreds had cognizance of the offence ; and it was con
cluded that, among so numerous a body, the tender of so large
a reward could not fail to offer an effectual allurement. Weeks,
however, passed over without the communication of intelligence
of any kind. Several persons were arrested on suspicion, but
were afterward discharged, as no more than mere conjecture
could be adduced against them.
Mr. Doherty, the Solicitor-General, proceeded to the county
of Tipperary, in order to investigate the transaction ; but for a
considerable time all his scrutiny was without avail. At length,
however, an individual of the name of Thomas Fitzgerald was
committed to jail upon a charge of highway robbery, and, in
order to save his life, furnished evidence upon which the Gov
ernment was enabled to pierce into the mysteries of delin
quency. The moment Fitzgerald unsealed his lips, a numer
ous horde of malefactors were taken up, and further reveal-
ments were made under the influence which the love of life,
and not of money, exercised over their minds. The assizes
came on ; and on Monday, the 31st of March [1828J, Patrick
Lacy and John Walsh were placed at the bar, and to the in
dictment for the murder of Daniel Mara pleaded not guilty.
The Court presented a very imposing spectacle. The whole

48 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
body of the gentry of Tipperary wfcre assembled in order to
witness a trial on which the security of life and property was
to depend. The box which is devoted to the grand-jury was
thronged with the aristocracy of the county, who manifested
an anxiety far stronger than the trial of an ordinary culprit is
accustomed to produce. An immense crowd of the peasantry
was gathered round the dock. All appeared to feel a deep
interest in what was to take place, but it was easy to perceive
in the diversity of solicitude which was expressed upon their
faces, the degrees of sympathy which connected them with the
prisoners at the bar. The more immediate kindred of the mal
efactors were distinguishable, by their profound but still emo
tion, from those who were engaged in the same extensive or
ganization, and were actuated by a selfish sense that their per
sonal interests were at stake, without having their more tender
affections involved in the result.
But besides the relatives and confederates of the prisoners,
there was a third class among the spectators, in which another
shade of sympathy was observable. These were the mass of
the peasantry, who had no direct concern with the transaction,
but whose principles and habits made them well-wishers to the
men who had put their lives in peril for what was regarded as
the common cause. Through the crowd were dispersed a num
ber of policemen, whose green regimentals, high caps, and glit
tering bayonets, made them conspicuous, and brought them
into contrast with the peasants by whom they were surrounded.
On the table stood the governor of the jail, with his ponderous
keys, which designated his office, and presented to the mind
associations which aided the effect of the scene.
Mr. Justice Moore appeared in his red robes lined with black,
and intimated by his aspect that he anticipated the discharge
of a dreadful duty. Beside him was placed the Earl of Kings
ton,* who had come from the neighboring county of Cork to
* Mr. Shell's description of the late Earl of Kingston is veiy accurate, but
words can not paint the brutality of this man's appearance. When I was a
lad, I often saw him, as he was Chairman of the Magistrates at the Sessions,
in Fermoy, where I was educated — one schoolmate being Francis Hincks,
now of Canada, and the schoolmaster being Dr. Hincks, his father. The Earl

THE EARL OF KINGSTON. 49
witness the trial, and whsise great possessions gave him a pe
culiar concern in tracing to their sources the disturhances -which
had already a formidable character, and intimated still more
of Kingston was an immense man, bulky and burly, with his features almost
hidden in a mass of dark whiskers, and his deep-set eyes glaring beneath
shaggy, black eyebrows, and a forehead "villanous low.*' His voice, that
all might be en suite^ was at once deep and loud. I never saw a man who had
a more brutal appearance. He took large quantities of snuff, which he carried
loose in a waistcoat-pocket lined with tin, and his method was to take small
handfuls of it, throw part of it up iiito his immense nostrils, and fling awaythe
remainder over his left shoulder — the consequence of which was, that nobody
who knew him would sit upon that side. When he was a young man, he held
a commission in the North Cork Militia — a corps of Orangemen, who commit
ted fearful barbarities in the fatal 1798, and used to ainuso themselves, when
they did shoot or bayonet a suspected "rebel,*' with setting fire to his house,
filling a brown paper cone with hot pitch, thrusting it upon his shorn head, and
enjoying the " fun" of seeing him wiithe under the torture, and laughing at
him as the hot fluid ran down his face and breast. The " rebels" made a
prisoner of Lord Kingston, and his life was very much in danger — for he was
well known, and much hated. They employed him, however, to make terms
for them with the Royalists, and he was allowed to depart, on his solemn prom
ise to perform their wish. The moment he reached his friends, he made use
of the information as to the strength of the " rebels," which he had picked up,
while a captive, utterly betrayed the trust reposed in him, and broke his
plighted word of honor, by setting on his soldiers to massacre the trusting foe.
The populace, who recollected this, constantly predicted a violent death to this
man brute. They rejoiced when the news reached them, in October, 1839,
that the Earl of Kingston, after some years' dreadful sufferings, had miserably
died, in London, of morbus pediculosus — the dreadful disease by which King
Herod perished in his pride. He erected the Castle of Mitchelstown as a
residence ; and I recollect that the men, who quai'ried the limestone of which
it is built, were paid only eight cents a day for twelve hours' work. A very
different man was his eldest son, the Viscount Kingsborough, author of that
magnificent work, " The Antiquities of Mexico." Bom in 1795, he represent
ed his native county (Cork), in the Parliament of 1820-'26. Thenceforth, he
devoted himself to literary and antiquarian researches. In 1831, was published
his great work on Mexico, in six folio volumes, got up at a cost of many thou
sand pounds. The illustrations consisted of fac-simile engravings from draw
ings and MSS., in the royal libraries of Paris, Dresden, and Berlin ; the
imperial library of Vienr.a; the library of the Vatican ; the Borgean Museum;
the library of the Institute at Bologna; the collections of Laud and Selden in
the Bodleian, at Oxford. Four copies of this work — the largest ever pub
lished by an author, on his own account — were printed upon vellum ; of these
he presented one to the Bodleian library, and another to the British Museum.
The price of an ordinary copy was a hundred and eighty guiryeas. The work
Vol. il— 3

50 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
terrible results. His dark and massive countenance, with a
shaggy and wild profusion of hair, his bold, imperious lip, and
large and deeply-set eye, and his huge and vigorous frame,
rendered him a remarkable object, without reference to his
high rank and station, and to the political part which he had
played in circumstances of which it is not impossible that he
may witness, although he should desire to avert, the return.
The prisoners at the bar stood composed and firm. Lacy,
the youngest, was dressed with extreme care and neatness.
He was a tall, handsome young man, with a soft and healthful
color, and a bright and tranquil eye, I was struck by the un
usual whiteness of his hands, which were loosely attached to
each other. Walsh, his fellow-prisoner and his brother in
crime, was a stout, short, and square-built man, with a sturdy
look, in which there was more fierceness than in Lacy's coun
tenance ; yet the latter was a far more guilty malefactor, and
had been engaged in numerous achievements of the same kind,
whereas Walsh bore an excellent reputation, and obtained
from his landlord, Mr. Oreagh, the highest testimony to his
character. The Solicitor-General, Mr. Doherty, rose to state the case.
He appeared more deeply impressed than I have ever seen
any public oiEcer, with the responsibility which had devolved
upon him ; and, by his solemn and emphatic manner, rendered
a narration, which was pregnant with awful facts, so impres
sive, that, during a speech of several hours' continuance, he
kept attention upon the watch, and scarcely a noise was heard,
except when some piece of evidence was announced which sur
prised the prisoners, and made them give a slight start, in
which their astonishment and alarm at the extent of the infor
mation of the Government were expressed.*
can not be obtained now, it ia so scarce, but a copy is in the Astor Library, New
York. — Viscount Kingsborough was unfortunately induced to become security
for debts incuiTed by his father, and that worthy actually allowed him to be
come an inmate of the SherifPs Prison, in Dublin, where he died, of typhus
fever, on the 27th of February, 1837, aged forty-two. — M,
* The speech of Mr, Doherty was highly eloquent. He took occasion to
describe the general condition of the county in language equally simple, pow
erful, and true. To the causes of that condition he did not advt T, for it did

THE MUEDEE OE DANIEL MARA. 61
They preserved their composure while Mr. Doherty was do-
tailing the evidence of Fitzgerald, for they well knew that he
had become what is technically called " a stag," and turned
informer. Neither were they greatly moved at learning that
another traitor of the name of Ryan was to be produced, for
rumors had gone abroad that he was to corroborate Fitzgerald.
They were well aware that the jury would require more evi
dence than the coincidence of swearing between two accom
plices could supply. It is, indeed, held that one accomplice
can sustain another for the purposes of conviction, and that
their concurrence is sufficient to warrant a verdict of guilty ;
still juries are in the habit of demanding some better founda
tion for their findings, and, before they take life away, exact a
confirmation from some pure and unquestionable source.
The counsel for the prisoners participated with them in the
belief that the Crown would not be able to produce any wit
nesses except accomplices, and listened, therefore, to the de
tails of the murder of Daniel Mara, however minute, without
much apprehension for their clients, until Mr. Doherty, turning
toward the dock, and lifting up and shaking his hand, pro
nounced the name of " Kate Costello." It smote the prisoners
with dismay ! At the time, however, that Mr. Doherty made
not fall within his official province to do so ; but he has since, in the House of
Commons, pointed out what he conceived to be the real sources of these de
plorable evils, I regret that Mr. Doherty did not take the pains to publish his
speeches at Clonmel. Justice has not been done to the diction in the newspapers
in which they were reported. The publication of those speeches in an authentic
form would not only evince the talents of the able advocate by whom they were
delivered, but would also have the effect of showing, in a striking view, the
unfairness of not allowing the counsel for the prison"^ s to speak, while the
Crown enlists all the power of rhetoric against them. The fa.ilt is not with
Mr. Doherty, but in the system. " Aperi os tuum muto, et vindica inopem," is
written in golden letters in the Court. The law, instead of vindicating the
poor man, shuts his counsel's mouth. I have seen many cases where a pow
erful speech might have saved a prisoner's life. A good appeal to the Jury
would have preserved two of the men who were convicted of the miurder of
Barry, at Clonmel. It is said that Judges would not have time to go through
the trials, if counsel for the prisoners were allowed to speak. In other words,
they would be delayed from their vacation villas upon circuit. What an excuse !
[The law has been changed since this was written, and counsel are allowed to
all prisoners. — M. 1

52 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
this announcement, he was himself uncertain, I believe, whether
Kate Costello would consent to give the necessary evidence ;
and there was reason to calculate upon her reluctance to make
any disclosure by which the lives of " her people," as the lower
orders call their kindred, should be affected.
The statement of Mr. Doherty, which was afterward fully
made out in proof, showed that a wide conspiracy had been
framed in order to murder Philip Mara's brothers. Fitzgerald
and Lacy, who did not reside in the neighborhood of Rath
Cannon, were sent for by the relatives of Patrick Grace, as it
was well known that they were ready for the undertaking of
" the job." They received their instructions, and were joined
by other assassins. The band proceeded to Rath Cannon, in
order to execute their purpose, but an accident prevented their
victims from coming to the place where they were expected,
and the assassination was, in consequence, adjourned for an
other week. In the interval, however, they did not relent;
but, on the contrary, a new supply of murderers was collected,
and on Sunday, the 30th day of September [1828], the day pre
ceding the murder, they met again in the house of a farmer, of
the name of Jack Keogh, who lived beside the barrack where
the Maras were at work. Here they were attended by Kate
Costello, the fatal witness, by whom their destiny was to be
sealed. On the morning of Monday, the 1st of October, they pro
ceeded to an elevation called " The Grove," a hill covered
with trees, in which arms had been deposited. This hill over
looked the barrack where the Maras were at work. A party
of conspirators joined the chief assassins on this spot, and Kate
Costello, a servant and near relative of the Keoghs (who were
engaged in the murder), again attended them. She brought
them food and spirits. From this ambush they remained watch
ing their prey until five o'clock in the afternoon, when it was
announced that the Maras were coming down from the scaf
folding on which they were raising the barrack. It appeared
that some murderers did not know the persons whose lives
they were to take away, and that their dress was mentioned
as the means of recognition. They advanced to the number

THE MUEDEE OE DANIEL MAE A. 53
of eight, and, as I have already intimated, succeeded in slay
ing one only of the three brothers.
But the most illustrative incident in the whole transaction
was not what took place at the murder, but a circumstance
which immediately succeeded it. The assassins, with their
hands red with the gore of man, proceeded to the house of a
farmer in good circumstances, whose name was John Russel.
He was a man of a decent aspect and demeanor, above the
lower class of peasants in station and habits, was not destitute
of education, spoke and reasoned well, and was accounted very
orderly and well conducted. One would suppose that he
would have closed his doors against the wretches who were
still reeking with their crime. He gave them welcome, ten
dered them his hospitality, and provided them with food. In
the room where they were received by this hoary delinquent,
there were two individuals of a very different character and
aspect from each other. The one was a girl, Mary Russel, the
daughter of old Jack Russel, the proprietor of the house. She
was young, and of an exceedingly interesting appearance; her
manners were greatly superior to persons of her class, and she
was delicate and gentle in her habitual conduct and demeanor.
Near her there sat an old woman, in the most advanced stage
of life, who was a kind of Elspeth among them, and from her
age and relationship was an object of respect and regard. The
moment the assassins entered, Mary Russel rushed up to them,
and, with a vehement earnestness, exclaimed, " Did you do any
good 1" They stated in reply that one of the Maras was shot ;
when Peg Russel (the withered hag), who sat moping in the
revery of old age, till her attention was aroused by the sangui
nary intelligence, lifted her shrivelled hand, and cried out with
a shrill and vehement bitterness, '' You might as well not have
killed any, since you did not kill them all !"
Strange and dreadful condition of Ireland ! The witness to
a murder denounces it. He flies the country. His brothers,
for his crime, are doomed to die. The whole population con
federate in their death. For weeks the conspiracy is planned,
and no relenting spirit interposes in their slaughterous deliber
ations. The appointed day arrives, and the murder of an inno-

54: CLONMEL ASSIZES.
cent man is effected, while the light is still shining, and with
the eye of man, which is as little feared as that of God, upon
them. The murderers leave the spot where their fellow-crea
ture lies weltering ; and, instead of being regarded as objects
of execration and of horror, are chid by women for their re
missness in the work of death, and for the scantiness of the
blood which they had poured out ! Thus it is that in this
unfortunate country not only men are made barbarous, but
women are unsexed, and filled —
 " from the crown to the toe, top-full

Of direst cruelty !"
These were the facts which Mr. Doherty stated, and they
were established by the evidence. The first witness was Fitz
gerald. When he was called, he did not appear on the instant,
for he was kept in a room adjoining the Court, in order that
he might not avail himself of the statement, and fit his evidence
to it. His testimony was of such importance, and it was known
that so much depended upon it, that his arrival was waited for
with strong expectation ; and, in the interval before his appear
ance on the table, the mind -had leisure to form some conjec
tural picture of what he in all likelihood was. I imagined
that he must be some fierce-looking, savage wretch, with base
ness and perfidy, intermingled with atrocity, in his brow, and
whose meanness would bespeak the informer, as his ferocity
would proclaim the assassin. I was deceived.
His coming was announced — way was made for him — and
I saw leap upon the table, with an air of easy indifference and
manly familiarity, a tall, athletic young man, about two or
three and twenty, with a countenance as intelligent in expres
sion and symmetrical in feature, as his limbs were vigorous
and well-proportioned. His head was perfectly shaped, and
surmounted a neck of singular strength and breadth, which
lay open and rose out of a chest of unusual massiveness and
dilation. His eyes were of deep and brilliant black, full of
fire and energy, intermixed with an expression of slyness and
sagacity. They had a peculiarly-watchful look, and indicated
a vehemence of character, checked and tempered by a cautious

MUEDEE OF DANIEL MAEA. 55
and observant spirit. The nose was well formed and deeply
tooted, but rose at the end with some suddenness, which took
off from the dignity of the countenance, but displayed consid
erable breadth about the nostrils, which were made to breathe
fierceness and disdain. The mouth of the villain (for he was
one of the first magnitude) was composed of thick but well-
shaped lips, in which firmness and intrepidity were strongly
marked ; and, when opened, disclosed a range of teeth of the
finest form and color. His hair was short and thick, but his
cheek was so fresh and fair, that he scarcely seemed to have
ever had any beard.
The fellow's dress was calculated to set off his figure. It
left his breast almost bare, and, the knees of his breeches being
open, a great part of his muscular legs appeared without cov
ering, as his stockings did not reach to the knee. He was
placed upon the chair appropriated to witnesses, and turned
at once to the counsel for the Crown in order to narrate his own
doings as well as those of his associates in depravity. I have
never seen a cooler, more precise, methodical, and consistent
witness. He detailed every circumstance to the minutest point, which
had happened during a month's time, with a wonderful accu
racy. So far from manifesting any anxiety to conceal or to
excuse his own guilt, he on the contrary set it forth in the
blackest colors. He made himself a prominent actor in the
business of blood. The life which he led was as singular as it
was atrocious. He spent his time in committing outrages at
night, and during the day in exacting homage from the peas
antry, whom he had inspired with a deep dread of him. He
walked through the county in arms, and compelled every
peasant to give him bed and board wherever he appeared. In
the caprices of his tyranny, he would make persons who
chanced to pass him, kneel down and offer him reverence,
while he presented his musket at their heads. Yet he was a
favorite with the populace, who pardoned the outrages com
mitted ,on themselves, on account of his readiness to avenge
the affronts or the injuries which they suffered from others.
Villain as the fellow was, it was not the reward which tempted

56 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
him to betray his associates. Though* two thousand pounds
sterling had been offered by Government, he gave no informa
tion for several months ; and when he did give it, it was to
save his life, which he had forfeited by a highway robbery,
for which he had been arrested. He seemed exceedingly anx
ious to impress upon the crowd that, though he was " a stag,"
it was not for gold that he had sold the cause. Life itself was
the only bribe that could move his honor, and even the tempt
ation which the instinctive passion for existence held out to
him was for a long while resisted.
Mr. Hatchell cross-examined this formidable attestator with
extraordinary skill and dexterity, but he was still unable to
shake his evidence. It was perfectly consistent and compact,
smooth and round, without any point of discrepancy on which
the most dexterous practitioner could lay a strong hold. The
most unfavorable circumstance to his cross-examiner was his
openness and candor. He had an ingenuousness in his atro
city which defied all the ordinary expedients of counsel. Most
informers allege that they are influenced by the pure love of
justice to betray their accomplices. This statement goes to
shake their credit, because they are manifestly perjured in
the declaration. Fitzgerald, however, took a very different
course. He disclaimed all interest in the cause of justice, and
repeatedly stated that he would not have informed, except to
rescue himself from the halter which was fastened round his
neck. When he left the table, he impressed every man who
heard him with a conviction of, not only his great criminality,
but his extraordinary talents.
He was followed by another accomplice, of the name of
Ryan, who was less remarkable than Fitzgerald, but whose
statement was equally consistent, and its parts as adhesive to
each other, as the more important informers. They had been
left in separate jails, and had not had any communication, so
that it could not be suggested that their evidence was the result
of a comparison of notes, and of a conspiracy against the pris
oners. This Ryan also alleged that he had informed merely
to save his life.
These witnesses were succeeded by several, who deposed to

MUEDKE OF DANIEL MAEA. 57
minute incidents which went to corroborate the informers ; but
notwithstanding that a strong case had been made out by the
Crown, still the testimony of some untainted witness to the
leading fact was requisite, and the counsel for the prosecution
felt that on Kate Costello the conviction must still depend.
She had not taken any participation in the murder. She could
not be regarded as a member of the conspiracy ; she was a
servant in the house of old John Keogh, but not an agent in
the business ; and if she confirmed what the witnesses had de
posed to, it was obvious that a conviction would ensue ; while,
upon the other hand, if she was not brought forward, the want
of her testimony would produce a directly opposite result.
She was called, and a suspense far deeper than the expecta
tion which had preceded the evidence of Fitzgerald was appa
rent in every face. She did not come, and was again sum
moned into court. Still Kate Costello did not appear. Re
peated requisitions were sent by the Solicitor-General, but
without effect. At length, every one began to conjecture that
she would disappoint and foil the Crown, and the friends of the
prisoners murmured that " Kate Costello would not turn against
her people." An obvious feeling of satisfaction pervaded the
crowd, and the prisoners exhibited a proportionate solicitude,
in which hope seemed to predominate.
Suddenly, however, the chamber-door communicating with
the room where the witnesses were kept was opened, and one
of the most extraordinary figures that ever appeared in that
strange theatre, an Irish court of justice, was produced. A
withered, diminutive woman, who was unable to support her
self, and whose feet gave way at every step, into which she
was impelled by her attendants, was seen entering the court,
and tottering toward the table. Her face was covered, and it
was impossible, for some time after she had been placed on the
table, to trace her features ; but her hands, which were as white
and clammy as a corpse's, and seemed to have undergone the
first process of decomposition, shook and shuddered, and a thrill
ran through the whole of her miserable and wornout frame. A
few minutes elapsed before her veil was removed ; and, when
it was, the most ghastly face which I have ever observed was
3*-

68 CLONMEL ASSIZES. •
disclosed ! Her eyes were quite closed, and the eyelids
shrunken as if by the touch of death. The lips were like
ashes, and remained open and without movement. Her breath
ing was scarcely perceptible, and, as her head lay on her
shoulder, her long black hair fell dishevelled, and added to
the general character of disordered horror which was expressed
in her demeanor.
Now that she was produced, she seemed little calculated to
be of any use. Mr. Doherty repeatedly addressed himself to
her, and entreated her to answer. She seemed unconscious
even of the sound of his voice. At length, however, with the
aid of water, which was applied to her mouth, and thrown in
repeated aspersions over her face, she was in some degree re
stored, and was able to breathe a few words. An interval of
minutes elapsed between every question and answer. Her
voice was so low as to be scarcely audible, and was rather an
inarticulate whisper than the utterance of any connected sen
tence. She was, with a great deal to do, conducted by the ex
aminer through some of the preliminary incidents, and at last
was brought to the scene in the grove where the murderers
were assembled.
It remained that she should recognise the prisoners. Un
less this were done, nothing would have been accomplished.
The rod with which culprits are identified was put into her
hand, and she was desired to stand up, to turn to the dock, and
to declare whether she saw in court any of the men whom she
had seen in the grove on the day of the murder. For a con
siderable time she could not be got to rise from her seat ; and
when she did, and stood up after a great effort over herself,
before she had turned round, but while the rod was trembling
in her hand, another extraordinary incident took place.
Walsh, one of the prisoners at the bar, cried out with the
most vehement gesture — "0 God! you are going to mm-der
me! I'll not stand hereto be murdered, for I'm downright
murdered, God help me !" This cry, uttered by a man almost
frenzied with excitation, drew the attention of the whole court
to the prisoner ; and the Judge inquired of him of what ho
complained. Walsh then stated, with more composure, that it

MUEDEE OF DANIEL MAEA. 69
w*as unfair, while there was nobody in the dock but Lacy and
himself, to desire Kate Costello to look at him, for that he was
marked out to her where he stood. This was a very just ob
servation, and Judge Moore immediately ordered that other
prisoners should be brought from the jail into the dock, and
that Walsh should be shown to Kate Costello in the midst of
a crowd. The jail was at a considerable distance, and a good deal of
time was consumed in complying with the directions of the
Judge. Kate Costello sank down again upon her chair; and,
in the interval before the arrival of the other prisoners, we en
gaged in conjectures as to the likelihood of Walsh being iden
tified. She had never seen him, except at the grove, and it
was possible that she might not remember him. In that event
his life was safe. At last the other prisoners were introduced
into the dock. The sound of their fetters as they entered the
court, and the grounding of the soldiers' muskets on the pave
ment, struck me.
It was now four o'clock in the morning; the candles were
almost wasted to their sockets, and a dim and uncertain light
was diffused through the court. Haggardness sat upon the
spectators, and yet no weariness or exhaustion appeared. The
frightful interest of the scene preserved the mind from fatigue.
The dock was crowded with malefactors, and, brought as they
were in orderthat guilt of all kinds should be confused and blend
ed, they exhibited a most singular spectacle. This assemblage
of human beings laden with chains was, perhaps, more melan
choly from the contrast which they presented between their
condition and their aspect. Even the pale light Avhich glim
mered through the court did not prevent their cheeks from
looking ruddy and healthful. They had been awakened in
their lonely cells in order to be produced, and, as they were
not aware of the object of arraying them together, there was
some surprise mixed with fear in their looks. I could not help
whispering to myself as I sui-veyed them, " What a noble and
fine race of men are here, and how much have they to answer
for, who, by degrading, have demoralized such a people !"
The desire of Walsh having been complied with, the witness

60 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
was called upon a second time to place the rod upon his head.
She rose again, and turned round, holding the fatal index in
her hand. There was a deep silence through the court ; the
face of Walsh exhibited the most intense anxiety, as the eyes
of Kate Costello rested upon the place where he stood. She
appeared at first not to recognise him, and the rod hung loosely
in her hand. I thought, as I saw her eyes traversing the as
semblage of malefactors, that she either did not know him, or
would affect not to remember him. At last, however, she
raised the rod, and stretched it forth ; but, before it was laid
on the devoted head, a female voice exclaimed, " Oh, Kate !"
This cry, which issued from the crowd, and was probably the
exclamation of some relative of the Keoghs, whose destiny de
pended on that of Walsh, thrilled the witness to the core. She
felt the adjuration in the very recesses of her being.
After a shudder, she collected herself again, and advanced
again toward the dock. She raised the rod a second time, and,
having laid it on the head of Walsh, who gave himself up as
lost the moment it touched him, she sank back into her chair.
The feeling which had filled the heart of every spectator here
found a vent, and a deep murmur was heard through the whole
court, mingled with sounds of stifled execration from the mass
of the people in the background. Lacy also was identified ;
and here it may be said that the trial closed. Walsh, who,
while he entertained any hope, had been almost convulsed with
agitation, resumed his original composure. He took no further
interest in the proceeding, except when his landlord gave him
a high character for integrity and good conduct ; and this com
mendation he seemed rather to consider as a sort of bequest
which he should leave to his kindred, than as the means of sa
ving his life. It is almost unnecessary to add that the prisoners
were found guilty.
Kate Costello, whose evidence was of such importance to the
Crown, had acted as a species of menial in the house of old
John Keogh, but was a near relation of her master. It is not
uncommon among the lower orders to introduce some depen
dent relative into the family, who goes through offices of utility
which are quite free from degradation, and is at the same time

THE MUEDEE OF DANIEL MAEA. 61
treated, to a great extent, as an equal. Kate Costello sat
down with old Jack Keogh and his sons at their meals, and
was accounted one of themselves. The most implicit trust was
placed in her ; and on one of the assassins observing that " Kate
Costello could hang them all," another observed that " there
was no fear of Kate." Nor would Kate ever have betrayed
the men who had placed their confidence in her, from any mer
cenary motives. Fitzgerald had stated that she had been at
" the Grove" in the morning of the day on which the murder
was committed, and that she could confirm his testimony. She
was in consequence arrested, and was told that she should be
hanged unless she disclosed the truth. Terror extorted from
her the revealments which were turned to such account. When
examined as a witness on the trial of Lacy and Walsh, her
agitation did not arise from any regard for them, but from her
consciousness that if they were convicted her own relatives
and benefactors must share in their fate.
The trial of Patrick and John Keogh came on upon Satur
day, the 5th of April, some days after the conviction of Lacy
and of Walsh, who had been executed in the interval. The
trial of the Keoghs had been postponed at the instance of the
prisoners, but it was understood that the Crown liad'no objec
tion to the delay, as great difficulty was supposed to have
arisen in persuading Kate Costello to give completion to the
useful work in which she had been engaged. It was said that
the friends of the Keoghs had got access to her, and that she
had refused to come forward against " her people." It was
also rumored that she had entertained an attachment for John
Keogh, and although he had wronged her, and she had suffered
severe detriment from their criminal connection, that she loved
him still, and would not take his life away. There was, there
fore, enough of doubt incidental to the trial of the Keoghs to
give it the interest of uncertainty; and, however fatal the
omen which the conviction of their brother-conspirators held
out, still it was supposed that Kate Costello would recoil from
her terrible task.
The court was as much crowded as it had been on the first
trial, upon the morning on which the two Keoghs were put at

62 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
the bar. They were more immediate agents in the assassina
tion. It had been in a great measure planned, as well as exe-
cuted by them ; and there was a further circumstance of aggra
vation in their having been in habits of intimacy with the de
ceased. When placed at the bar, their appearance struck
every spectator as in strange anomaly with their misdeeds.
They both seemed to be farmers of the most respectable class.
Patrick, the younger, was perfectly well clad. He had a blue
coat and white waistcoat, of the best materials used by the
peasantry : a black silk-handkerchief was carefully knotted on
his neck. He was lower in stature and of less athletic propor
tions than his brother John, but had a more determined and
resolute physiognomy. He looked alert, quick, and active.
The other was of gigantic stature, and of immense width of
shoulder and strength of limb. He rose beyond every man in
court, and towered in the dock. His dress was not as neatly
arranged as his brother's, and his neck was without covering,
which served to exhibit the hugeness of his proportions. He
looked in the vigor of powerful manhood. His face was ruddy
and blooming, and was quite destitute of all darkness and ma
levolence of expression. There was perhaps too much fallness
about the lips, and some traces of savageness as well as of
voluptuousness might have been detected by a minute physi
ognomist in their exuberance ; but the bright blue of his mild
and intelligent eyes counterbalanced this evil indication.
The aspect of these two young men was greatly calculated
to excite interest ; but there was another object in court which
was even more deserving of attention. On the left hand of his
two sons, and just near the youngest of them, sat an old man,
whose head was covered with a profusion of gray hairs, and who,
although evidently greatly advanced in years, was of a hale and
healthful aspect. I did not notice him at first, but in the course
of the trial, the glare which his eye gradually acquired, and
the passing of all color from his cheek, as the fate of his sons
grew to certainty, drew my observation, and I learned on in
quiry, what I had readily conjectured, that he was the father
of the prisoners at the bar. He did not utter a word during
the fifteen or sixteen hours that he remained in attendance

THE MUEDEE OF DANIEL MAEA. 63
upon the dreadful scene which was going on before him. The
appearance of Kate Costello herself, whom he had fostered,
fed, and cherished, scarcely seemed to move him from his ter
rible tranquillity.
She was, as on the former occasion, the pivot of the whole
case. The anticipations that she would not give evidence
" against her own flesh and blood" were wholly groundless,
for on her second exhibition as a witness she enacted her part
with much more firmness and determination. She had before
kept her eyes almost "closed, but she now opened and fixed
them upon the counsel, and exhibited great quickness and
shrewdness in their expression, and watched the cross-exami
nation with great wariness and dexterity. I was greatly sur
prised at this change, and can only refer it to the spirit of de-
termiisation which her passage of the first difficulty on the for
mer trial had produced. The first step in blood had been
taken, and she trod more firmly in taking the second. What
ever may have been the cause, she certainly exhibited little
compunction in bringing her cousins to justice, and laid the
rod on the head of her relative and supposed paramour without
remorse. At an early hour on Sunday morning the verdict of guilty
was brought in. The prisoners at the bar received it without
surprise, but turned deadly pale. The change in John Keogh
was more manifest, as in the morning of Saturday he stood
blooming with health at the bar, and was now as white as a
shroud. The Judge told them that as it was the morning of
Easter Sunday (which is commemorative of the resurrection of
the dead), he should not then pronounce sentence upon them.
They cried out, " A long day, a long day, my Lord !" and at
the same time begged that their bodies might be given to their
father. This prayer was uttered with a sound resembling the
wail of an Irish funeral, and accompanied with a most pathetic
gesture. They both swung themselves with a sort of oscilla
tion up and down, with their heads thrown back, striking their
hands, with the fingers half closed, against their breasts, in the
manner which Roman Catholics use in saying " The Confiteor."
The reference which they made to their father drew my atten-

64 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
tion to the miserable old man. Two persons, friends of his,
had attended him in court; and when his sons, after having
been founi guilty, were about to be removed, he was lifted on
the table, on which he was with difficulty sustained, and was
brought near to the dock. He wanted to embrace John Keogh,
and stretched out his arms toward him. The latter, whose
manliness now forsook him, leaned over the iron spikes to his
full length, got the old man into his bosom, and, while his tears
ran down his face, pressed him long and closely to his heart.
They were at length separated, and the sons were removed to
the cells appointed for the condemned.
The Judge left the bench, and the court was gradually
cleared. Still the father of the prisoners remained between
his two attendants almost insensible. He was almost the last
to depart. I followed him out. It was a dark and stormy
night. The wind beat full against the miserable wretch, and
made him totter as he went along. His attendants were ad
dressing to him some words of consolation connected with reli
gion (for these people are, with all their crimes, not destitute
of religious impressions), but the old man only answered them
with his moans. He said nothing articulate, but during all
the way to the obscure cellar into which they led him, contin
ued moaning as he went. It was not, I trust, a mere love of
excitement, which arises from the contemplation of scenes in
which the passions are brought out, that made me watch this
scene of human misery. I may say, without affectation, that
I was (as who would not have been ?) profoundly moved by
what I saw; and when I beheld this forlorn and desolate man
descend into his wretched abode, which was lighted by a fee
ble candle, and saw him fall upon his knees in helplessness,
while his attendants gave way to sorrow, I could not restrain
my own tears.
The scenes of misery did not stop here. Old John Russel
pleaded guilty. He had t\yo sons, lads of fifteen or sixteen,
and, in the hope of saving them, acknowledged his crime at
the bar. " Let them," he said, in the jail where I saw him —
" let them put me on the trap if they like, but let them spare
the boys."

OEIGIN OF lEISH CEIME. 65
But I shall not proceed further in the detail of these dread
ful incidents. There were many other trials at the assizes, in
which terrible disclosures of barbarity took place. For three
weeks the two Judges were unremittingly employed in trying
cases of dreadful atrocity, and in almost every instance the per
petrators of crimes the most detestable were persons whose gen
eral moral conduct stood in a wonderful contrast with their
isolated acts of depravity. Almost every offence was con
nected with the great agrarian organization which prevails
through the country.
It must be acknowledged that, terrible as the misdeeds of
the Tipperary peasantry must upon all hands be admitted to
be, yet, in general, there was none of the meanness and turpi
tude observable in their enormities which characterize the
crimes that are disclosed at an English assize. There were
scarcely any examples of murder committed for mere gain. It
seemed to be a point of honor with the malefactors to take
blood, and to spurn at money. Almost every offence Avas com
mitted in carrying a system into effect, and the victims who
were sacrificed were considered by their immolators as offered
up upon a justifiable principle of necessary extermination.
These are assuredly important facts, and, after having contem
plated these moral phenomena, it becomes a duty to inquire
into the causes from which these marvellous atrocities derive
their origin.
But before I proceed to suggest what I conceive to be the
sources of a condition so disastrous, it is not inappropriate to
inquire how long the lower orders in Ireland have been habit
uated to these terrible practices, and to look back to the period
at which they may be considered to have had their origin. If
these crimes were of a novel character, and had a recent exist
ence, that circumstance would afford strong grounds for con
cluding that temporary expedients, and the vigorous adminis
tration of the law applied to the suppression of local and ephe
meral disturbances, would be of avail. But if we find that
it is not now, or within these few years, that these symptoms
of demoralization have appeared, it is then reasonable to con
clude that there must be some essential vice, some radical im-

QQ CLONMEL ASSIZES.
perfection in the general system by which the country is gov.
erned, and it is necessary to ascertain what the extent and
root of the evil is, before any effectual remedy can be discov
ered for its cure.
This is a subject of paramount interest, and its importance
will justify the writer of this article, after a detail of the ex:-
traordinary incidents which he has narrated, in taking a rapid
retrospect of antecedent events, of which recent transactions
may be reasonably accounted the perpetuation. In doing so,
some coincidence may be found with what the writer may have
observed elsewhere, but the fear of incurring the imputation
of either tediousness or self-citation shall not deter him from
references to what he conceives to be of great and momentous
materiality. The first and leading feature in the disturbances and atroci
ties of Tipperary is, that they are of an old date, and have
been for much more than half a century of uninterrupted con
tinuance. Arthur Young* travelled in Ireland in the years
1776, 1777, and 1778. His excellent book is entitled "A Tour
in Ireland, with General Observations on the Present State of
that Kingdom." Although the professed object of Arthur
Young in visiting Ireland was to ascertain the condition of its
agriculture, and a great portion of his work turns upon that
subject, yet he has also investigated its political condition, and
pointed out what he conceived to be the chief evils by which
the country was afflicted, and the mode of removing them. He
adverts particularly to the state of the peasantry in the south
* Arthur Young was one of the vei-y few men who studied Agriculture, as
a science, in the eighteenth centmy. That he might master it, he traversed the
British islands, and extended his observations over France, Italy, and Spain.
He was a great experimentalist. He published the Farmer's Calendar and the
Annals of Agriculture, both of which were very populai', tmd among his con
tributors was George III., who aspired to be considered a country gentleman,
by virtue of having a farm of his own, at Windsor. Wheii Sir John S^clair
got the Government to establish the Boai-d of Agriculture, he obtained the sec
retaryship for Mr. Young, who retained it until his death, in 1820. His Agri
cultural tours in England, Ireland, and Fi'ance, were full of information, care
fully collected and impartially communicated. His statements respecting the
fallen condition of Ireland, and the causes of her decadence, were startling-^
because, from the writer's character, their truth was undoubted. — M.

WHITEBOTISM. 67
of Ireland, and it is well worthy of remark that the outrages
which are now in daily commission were of exactly the same
character as the atrocities which were perpetrated by the White-
boys (as the insurgents were called) in 1760.
" The Whiteboys," says Arthur Young, in page 75 of the
quarto edition, " began in Tipperary. It was a common prac
tice with them to go in parties about the country, swearing
many to be true to them, and forcing them to join by menaces,
which they very often carried into execution. At last they
set up to be general redressers of grievances — punished all
obnoxious persons who advanced the value of lands, or held
farms over their head ; and, having taken the administration
of justice into their own hands, were not very exact in the
distribution of it. They forced masters to release apprentices ;
carried off the daughters of rich farmers — ravished them into
marriages ; they levied sums of money on the middling and
lower farmers, in order to support their cause, in defending
prosecutions against them ; and many of them subsisted with
out work, supported by these prosecutions. Sometimes they
committed considerable robberies, breaking into houses and
taking money under pretence of redressing grievances. In the
course of these outrages they burnt several houses, and de
stroyed the whole substance of those obnoxious to them. The
barbarities they committed were shocking. One of their usual
punishments, and by no means the most severe, was taking
people out of their beds, carrying them naked in winter on horse
back for some distance, and burying them up to their chin in
a hole, with briers, not forgetting to cut off one of their ears.''
Arthur Young goes on to say that the Government had not suc
ceeded in discovering any radical cure.
It will scarcely be disputed that the Whiteboyism of 1760
corresponds with that of 1828 ; and if, when Arthur Young
wrote his valuable book, the Government had not discovered
any " radical cure," it will scarcely be suggested that any
remedy has since that time been devised. From the period at
which these outrages commenced, the evil has continued in a
rapidly-progressive augmentation. Every expedient which
legislative ingenuity could invent has been tried. All that

68 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
the terrors of the law could accomplish has been put into ex
periment without avail. Special commissioners and special
delegations of counsel have been almost annually despatched
into the disturbed districts, and crime appears to have only
undergone a pruning, while its roots remained untouched.
Mr. Doherty is not the first Solicitor-General of gi-eat abili
ties who has been despatched by Government for the pui-pose
of awing the peasantry into their duty. The present Chief-
Justice of the King's Bench [BusheJ,upon filling Mr. Doherty's
office, was sent upon the same painful errand, and, after having
been equally successful in procuring the conviction of malefac
tors, and brandished the naked sword of justice with as puis
sant an arm, new atrocities have almost immediately afterward
broken forth, and furnished new occasions for the exercise of
his commanding eloquence.
It is reasonable to presume that the recent executions at
Clonmel will not be attended with any more permanently use
ful consequences ; and symptoms are already beginning to re
appear, which, independently of the admonitions of experience,
may well induce an apprehension that, before much time shall
go by, the law-officers of the Crown will have to go through
the same terrible routine of prosecution. It is said, indeed, hy
many sanguine speculators on the public peace, that now,indeed,
something effectual has been done, and that the jail and the
gibbet there have given a lesson that will not be speedily for
gotten. How often has the same thing been said when the
scaffold was strewed with the same heaps of the dead ! How
often have the prophets of tranquillity been falsified by the
event! If the crimes which, ever since the year 1760, have
been uninterruptedly committed, and have followed in such a
rapid and tumultuous succession, had been of only occasional
occurrence, it would be reasonable to conclude that the terrors
of the law could repress them.
But it is manifest that the system of atrocity doos not depend
upon causes merely ephemeral, and can not therefore be under
the operation of temporary checks. We have not merely wit
nessed sudden inundations which, after a rapid desolation, have
suddenly subsided : we behold a stream as deep as it is dark,

OPEEATION OF THE PENAL CODE. 69 •
which indicates, hj its continuous current, that it is derived
from an unfailing fountain, and which, however augmented by
the contribution of other springs of bitterness, must be indebted
for its main supply to some abundant and distant source.
Where, then, is the well-head to be found ? Where are we
to seek for the origin of evils, which are of such a character
that they carry with them the clearest evidence that their
causes must be as enduring as themselves 1 It may at first
view, and to any man who is not well acquainted with the
moral feelings and habits of the great body of the population
of Ireland, seem a paradoxical proposition that the laws which
affect the Roman Catholics furnish a clew by which, however
complicated the mazes may be which constitute the labyrinth
of calamity, it will not be difficult to trace our way.
It may be asked, with a great appearance of plausibility
(and indeed it is often inquired), what possible effect the ex
clusion of a few Roman Catholic gentlemen from Parliament,
and of still fewer Roman Catholic barristers from the bench,
can produce in deteriorating the moral habits of the people ?
This, however, is not the true view of the matter. The exclu
sion of Roman Catholics from office is one of the results of
the penal code, but it is a sophism to suggest that it is the sum
total of the law itself, and that the whole of it might be re
solved into that single proposition. The just mode of present
ing the question would be this : " What effect does the penal
code produce by separating the higher and the lower orders
from each other 1"
Before I suggest any reasons of my own, it may be judicious
to refer to the same writer, from whom I have extracted a de
scription of the state of the peasantry, with which its present
condition singularly corresponds. The authority of Arthur
Young is of great value, because his opinions were not in the
least degree influenced by those passions which are almost in
separable from every native of Ireland. He was an English
man — had no share in the factious animosities by which this
country is divided — he had a cool, deliberate, and scientific
mind — was a sober thinker, and a deep scrutinizer into the
frame and constitution of society, and was entirely free from

70 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
¦ all tendency to extravagance in speculation, either political or
religious. Arthur Young's book consists of two parts. In the
first he gives a minute account of what he saw in Ireland, and
in the second, under a series of chapters, one of which is ap
propriately entitled " Oppression," he states what he conceives
to be the causes of the lamentable condition of the people.
Having prefixed this title of " oppression" to the 29th page of
the second part of his book, he says : " The landlord of an
Irish estate inhabited by Roman Catholics, is a sort of despot,
who yields obedience in whatever concerns the poor to no law
but his own will. To discover what the liberty of a people is,
we must live among them, and not look for it in the statutes of
the realm : the language of written law may be that of liberty,
but the situation of the poor may speak no language but that
of slavery. There is too much of this contradiction in Ireland ;
a long series of oppression, aided by many very ill-judged laws,
has brought landlords into a habit of exerting a very lofty su
periority, and their vassals into that of a most unlimited sub
mission : speaking a language that is despised, professing a
religion that is abhorred, and being disarmed, the poor find
themselves, in many cases, slaves, even in the bosom of written
liberty ! . . . The abominable distinction of religion, united with
the oppressive conduct of the little country-gentlemen, or rather
vermin of the kingdom, who were never out of it, altogether
bear still very heavy on the poor people, and subject them to
situations more mortifying than we ever behold in England."
In the next page after these preliminary observations, this
able writer (who said in vain fifty years ago what since that
time so many eminent men have been in vain repeating)
points out more immediately the causes of the crimes commit
ted by the peasantry, which he distinctly refers to the distinc
tions of religion. "The proper distinction in all the discon
tents of the people is into Protestant and Catholic. The White-
boys, being laboring Catholics, met with all those oppressions
I have described, and would probably have continued in full
submission, had not very severe treatment blown up the flame
of resistance. The atrocious acts they were guilty of made
them the objects of general indignation : acts were passed for

JUSTICE TO lEELAND. 71
their punishment, which seemed calculated for the meridian of
Barbary. It is manifest that the gentlemen of Ireland never
thought of a radical cure, from overlooking the real cause of the
disease, which, in fact, lay in themselves, and not in the wretches
they doomed to the gallows. Let them change their own
conduct entirely, and the poor will not long riot. Treat them
like men, who ought to be free as yourselves ; put an end to
that system of religious persecution which for seventy years
has divided the kingdom against itself. In these two things
lies the cure of insurrection — perform them completely, and
you will have an affectionate poor, instead of oppressed and
discontented vassals ; a better treatment of the poor in Ireland
is a very material point to the welfare of the whole British
empire. Events may happen which may convince us fatally
of this truth. If not, oppression would have broken all the
spirit and resentment of men. By what policy the Govern
ment of England can, for so many years, have permitted such
an absurd system to be matured in Treland, is beyond the
power of plain sense to discover."
Arthur Young may be wrong in his inference (I do not think
that he is) ; but, be he right or wrong, I have succeeded in
establishing that he, whose evidence was most dispassionate
and impartial, referred the agrarian barbarities of the lower
orders to the oppression of the Roman Catholics. But the pas
sage which I have cited is not the strongest. The seventh
section of his work is entitled "Religion," After saying that
" the domineering aristocracy of five hundred thousand Protest
ants feel the sweets of having two millions of slaves" (the Ro
man Catholic body was then not one third of what the penal
code has since made it), he observes : " The disturbances of
the Whiteboys, which lasted ten years" (what would he now
say of their duration ?), " in spite of every exertion of legal
power, were, in many circumstances, very remarkable, and ia
none more so than in the surprising intelligence among the in
surgents, wherever found. It was universal, and almost in
stantaneous. The numerous bodies of them, at whatever dis
tance from each other, seemed animated by one zeal, and not
a single instance was known, in that long course of time, of a

72 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
single individual betraying the cause. The severest threats
and the most splendid promises of reward had no other effect
than to draw closer the bonds which cemented a multitude to
all appearance so desultory. It was then evident that the iron
hand of oppression had been far enough from securing the obe
dience or crushing the spirit of the people ; and all reflecting
men, who consider the value of religious liberty, will wish it
may never have that effect — will trust in the wisdom of Al
mighty God, for teaching man to respect even those prejudices
of his brethren that are imbibed as sacred rights, even from
earliest infancy ; that, by dear-bought experience of the futility
and ruin of the attempt, the persecuting spirit may cease, and
toleration establish that harmony and security which, five
score years' experience has told us, is not to be purchased at
the expense of humanity.''
This is strong language, and was used by a man who had
no connecting sympathy of interest, of religion, or of national
ity, with Ireland. So'unequivocal an opinion, expressed by a
person of such authority, and whose credit is not affected by
any imaginable circumstance, must be admitted to have great
weight, even if there was a difficulty in perceiving the grounds
on which that opinion rested. But there is little or none. The
law divides the Protestant proprietor from the Catholic tiller
of the soil, and generates a feeling of tyrannical domination
in the one, and of hatred and distrust in the other. The Irish
peasant is not divided from his landlord by the ordinary de-
markations of society. Another barrier is erected, and, as if
the poor and the rich were not alreadj' sufficiently separated,
religion is raised as an additional boundary between them.
The operation of the feelings, which are the consequence of
this division, is stronger in the county of Tipperary than else
where. It is a peculiarly Cromwellian district, or, in other
words, the holy warriors of the Protector chose it as their land
of peculiar promise, and selected it as a favorite object of con
fiscation. The lower orders have good memories. There is
scarcely a peasant who, as he passes the road, will not point to
the splendid mansions of the aristocracy, embowered in groves,
or rising upon fertile elevations, and tell you the name of the

PEOTESTANT ASCENDENCY. 73
pious corporal or the inspired sergeant from whom the present
proprietors derive a title, which, even at this day, appears to
be of a modern origin.
These reminiscences are of a most injurious tendency. But,
after all, it is the system of religious separation which nurtures
the passions of the peasantry with these pernicious recollec
tions. They are not permitted to forget that Protestantism is
stamped upon every institution in the country, and their own
sunderance from the privileged class is perpetually brought to
their minds. Judges, sheriffs, magistrates. Crown-counsel, law-
officers — all are Protestant.* The very sight of a court of
justice reminds them of the degradations attached to their re
ligion, by presenting them with the ocular proof of the advan
tages and honors which belong to the legal creed. It is not,
therefore, fronderful that they should feel themselves a branded
caste ; that they should have a consciousness that they belong
to a debased and inferior community; and, having no confi
dence in the upper classes, and no reliance in the sectarian
administration of the law, that they should establish a code of
barbarous legislation among themselves, and have recourse to
what Lord Bacon calls " the wild justice" of revenge. A
change of system would not perhaps produce immediate ef
fects upon the character of the people ; but I believe that
* Having repeatedly mentioned " Protestant Ascendency," in these notes, it
may not be improper to define what it was and what it meant. In an address
from the Corporation of Dublin to the Protestants of Ireland, praying them to
resist Catholic Emancipation, the following passage occurs : " Protestant As
cendency, which we have resolved with our lives and fortunes to maintain.
And that no doubt may remain of what we understand by the words ' Protestant
Ascendency, we have further resolved, that we consider the Protestant Ascen
dency to consist in — a Protestant King of Ireland — a Protestant Parliament
— a Protestant hierarchy — Protestant Electors and Government — the benches
of justice, the army, and the Revenue, through all their branches and details,
Protestant — and this system supported by a connection with the Protestant
Realm of Britain." Previous to this assertion of exclusive Protestant rights,
the Lord Chancellor of Ireland had declared from the judgment-seat (in 1759)
that " the laws did not presume a Papist to exist in the Kingdom, nor could
they breathe without the connivance of government." Yet the Catholics, whoso
' rights and very existence were legally ignored, were about seven times more
numerous than the Protestants of Ireland. — M.
Vol. II.— 4

74 CLONMEL ASSIZES.
its results would be much more speedy than is generally im
agined. At all events, the experiment of conciliation is worth the
trial. Every other expedient has been resorted to, and has
wholly failed. It remains that the legislature, after exhaust
ing all other means of tranquillizing Ireland, should, upon a
mere chance of success, adopt the remedy which has at least
the sanction of illustrious names for its recommendation. The
union of the two great classes of the people in Ireland — in
other words, the emancipation of the Roman Catholics — is in
this view not only recommended by motives of policy, but of
humanity ; for who that has witnessed the scenes which I have
(perhaps at too much length) detailed in these pages, can fail
to feel that, if the demoralization of the people arises from had
government, the men who from feelings of partisanship perse
vere in that system of misrule, will have to render a temble
account 1

THE CATHOLIC BAR.
" And ye shall walk in silk attire." — Old Ballad.
Upon the first day of last Michaelmas term [1826] eight
gentlemen were called to the Bar, of whom four were Roman
Catholics. This was a kind of event in the Hall of the Four
Courts, and in the lack of any other matter of interest, such
as the speech of a new Sergeant at a corporation dinner, which
had by this time ceased to excite the comments of the attor
neys, produced a species of excitation. There are two assort
ments of oaths for Catholics and Protestants upon their admis
sion to the Bar. The latter still enter their protestations, in
the face of Lord Manners and of Heaven, against the damna
ble idolatry of the Church of Rome. But when the more miti
gated oath provided for the Roman Catholics happens to be
rehearsed on the first day of term,* it is easy to perceive an
expression of disrelish in the countenance of the court ; and
although it is impossible for Lord Manners to divest himself of
that fine urbanity which belongs to his birth and rank, yet in
the bow with which he receives the aspiring Papist, there are
evident symptoms of constraint ; and it is by a kind of effort
even in his features that they are wrought into an elaborated
smile. It does not frequently happen that more than one or two
Roman Catholics are called in any single term ; and when'
* This sketch was published in February, 1827, when Lord Manners was
Chancellor. — Roman Catholics were not admitted to the Irish bar until 1798.
— Among the earliest who availed themselves of this privilege, was Mr. O'Con
nell.— M.

76 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
Lord Manners heard four several shocks given to the Consti
tution, and tlie Roman Catholic qualification-oath coming again
and again upon him, it is not wonderful that his composure
should have been disturbed, and that the loyal part of the Bar
should have caught the expression of dismay. Mr. Sergeant
Lefroy, alarmed at the repeated omissions of those pious de
nunciations of the Virgin Mary, by which the laws and lib
erty of these countries are sustained, in the very act of putting
a fee into his pocket, lifted up the whites of his eyes to
Heaven : Mr. Devonshire Jackson let fall his mask, and deter
mined on voting for Gerard Callaghan :* the Solicitor-General
was observed to whisper Mr. Saurin, until the arrival of Mr.
Plunket withdrew him from the ear of his former associate in
office : to Mr. Saurin it was proposed by Barclay Scriven to
petition Mr. Peel to appoint him Attorney-General in the
island of Barbadoes; and it is rumored that another letter to
my Lord Norbury has been discovered,! in which the writer
protests his belief, that the Bar will soon be reduced to its
condition in the reign of James the Second.
In the reign of James the Second, Roman Catholic barristers
were raised to office ; and, as the time appears to be at hand
when they will be rendered eligible by law to hold places of
distinction and of trust, it is worth our while to examine in
what way they conducted themselves when, in the short inter
val of their political prosperity, Roman Catholics were in
vested with authority. Doctor King says, that " no sooner
had the Papists got judges and juries that would believe
them, but they began a trade of swearing and ripping up
what they pretended their Protestant neighbors had said of
King James, whilst Duke of York ;" and proceeds to charge
them with gross corruption in the administration of justice.
* Mr. Devonshire Jackson, a clever lawyer, very attenuated in person and
.intolerant in political polemics, is now one of the Judges of the Common Pleas
in Ireland. — Mr. Gerard Callaghan, son of Daniel Callaghan, a rich victualler
and contractor in Cork, was ineligible, as a Catholic, to sit in Parliament, so
he changed his religion, and was elected for his native city. After Emancipa
tion his brother Daniel was elected, without relinquishing his religious faith.— Mi
t See the preceding sketch of Lord Noibuiy, in tliis volume. — M.

AECHBISHOP KING. 77
The Doctor was Archbishop of Dublin. He had originally
been a sizar in the University ; and having afterward obtained
a fellowship, gradually raised himself, by dint of sycophancy
and intrigue, to one of the richest sees in the richest establish
ment in the world.* Whether he exhibited all the arrogance
of a Pontifical parvenu ; whether he was at once a haughty "
priest and a consecrated jackanapes; whether he was a sophist
in his creed, an equivocator in his statements, and a cobweb-
weaver in his theology ; whether he had a vain head, a nig
gard hand, and a false and servile heart, and betrayed the
men who raised him, I have not been able to determine. He
appears to have been an apostate in his politics.! His represen
tation of the conduct of the Catholic judges in his time is not
without some episcopal characteristics, and justifies what Leslie
says of him : — " Though many things the archbishop says are
true, yet he has hardly spoken a true word without a warp."
The best and most incontrovertible evidence (that of Lord
Clarendon, the Lord-Lieutenant, and a firm Protestant), could
be adduced to show how widely the statements of Doctor King
vary from the fact.
Lord Clarendon tells us that " when the Popish judges went
to the assizes in the counties of Down and Londonderry, where
many considerable persons were to be tried for words formerly
spoken against King James, they took as much pains as it
* Dr. WiUiam King, bom in 1650, was an Irishman educated at Trinity Col
lege, and for many years Archbishop of Dublin. It is worth mention, as show
ing how church patronage went in those days, and (it may be) how little they
deserved promotion, that though, from 1609 to 1773, there were one hundred
and eight appointments or translations to Irish sees, only twenty-three fellows
of Trinity College (the only University in Ireland), were among the prize-hold
ers. One of these was the illustrious James Usher, appointed Bishop of Meath
in 1620 (a see now having Dr. Singer at its head), and Archbishop of Armagh
in 1624. A celebrated wit, by the way, used to say that " Bishops," who are
always removed merely to richer dioceses, " are the only things that do not
suffer by translation." — Archbishop King died in 1729. — M.
t Of these last sentences it might be said, addressing Dr. Magee, Archbishop
of Dublin when they were written — -'
" Mutato nomine, de te fabula narratur.''
Mr. Shell appears to have a rooted antipathy to this divine, who was a liberal
in his youth, but became intolerant in his later years. — M.

78 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
was possible to quiet the minds of the people wherever they
went ; and they took care to have all the juries mingled, half
English and half Irish."— (State Letters, vol. i., p. 326.) " Judge
Daly," he says, " one of the Popish judges, did, at the assizes
of the county of Meath, enlarge much upon the unconsciona-
bleness of indicting men for words spoken so many years be
fore ; and thereupon the jurors, the major part of whom were
Irish, acquitted them :" and he adds, that " Mr. Justice Nu
gent, another Popish judge, made the same declaration at
Drogheda, where several persons were tried for words." Lord
Clarendon further states, that he was in the habit of consult
ing Roman Catholics, who had been recently promoted, re
specting the appointment of mayors, sheriffs, and common-
council men. " I advise," he says, " with those who are best
acquainted in these towns, particularly with Justice Daly,
and others of the King's council of that persuasion ; and the
lists of names these men give me, are always equal, half Eng-
glish, half Irish, which, they say, is the best way to make
them unite and live friendly together." — (State Letters, vol.
ii., p. 319.)
In the first volume of the State Letters, p. 292, he says,
" At the council-board, there was a complaint proved against
a justice of the peace ; and it is remarkable that several of
our new Roman Catholic counsellors, though the justice was
an Englishman and a Protestant, were for putting off the busi
ness ; and particularly the three said Popish judges said, the
gentleman would be more careful for the future." He adds,
.that "when the Popish judges were made privy-counsellors,
they conducted themselves with singular modestj^" — a prece
dent which I have no doubt that Mr. Blake will follow, when
he shall be elevated to the vice-regal cabinet.*
* Many a chance arrow hits the white ; many a true word is spoken in jest ;
Mr. Shell was an involuntary prophet. Anthony Richard Blake, who was
Lord Wellesley's particular friend, was one of the earliest Catholic Privy Coun
cillors in Ireland, after Emancipation. Bom in 1786, he was called to the bar
in 1813 ; was Chief-Remembrancer of Ireland from 1823 to 1842, when he
resigned from ill-health ; in 1844, was made a commissioner of charitable do
nations and bequests for Ireland; and died, in January, 1849, aged sixty-
tb-ee. — M.

SIE THEOBALD ETJTLEE. 79
Of the Roman Catholics, who were promoted in the reign of
James the Second, Sir Theobald Butler was by far the most
distinguished. He was created Attorney-General, and dis
charged the duties of his office with perfect fairness and im
partiality. This very able, and, as far as renown can be ob
tained in Ireland, this celebrated man was not only without
an equal, but without a competitor in his profession. Althougb
the reputation of a lawyer is almost of necessity evanescent,
yet such was the impression produced by his extraordinary
abilities, that his name is to this day familiarly referred to.
This permanence in the national recollection is in a great
measure to be attributed to the very important part which he
took in politics, and especially in the negotiation of the treaty
of Limerick. His high, rank also, for he was a member of the
great house of Ormond, added to his influence.
As far as I have been able to form an estimate of his intellectual
qualities, from the speech which he delivered at the bar of the
Irish House of Commons, he was more remarkable for strength,
brevity, condensation, and great powers of argument, than for
any extraordinary faculty of elocution. The speech to which
I have adverted, has none of those embellishments of rhetoric,
and those splendid vices in oratory, to which the school of
Irish eloquence became subsequently addicted.* The whole
of this oration is cast in a syllogistic mould, and exhibits too
much logical apparatus. It was, I believe, the fashion of the
time : still the vehemence of passion breaks through the arti
ficial regularity of reasoning, and while he is proceeding with
a series of propositions, systematically divided, the indignant
emotions, which the injuries of his country could not fail to
produce, burst repeatedly and abundantly out : in the midst
of all the pedantic forms of scholastic disputation. Nature as
serts her dominion ; he gives a loose to anguish, and pours
forth his heart.
Sir Theobald Butler had not only been among the besieged
Catholics at Limerick, but was employed by his countrymen
* And of which Mr. Shell's own oratory was a brilliant example ; — so easy
is it to perceive faults, and yet possess them — to approve of the " meliora," and
yet have to add " sed inferiora sequor." — M.

80 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
to settle the articles of capitulation.* His name appears on
the face of the treaty as one of the parties with whom, on
behalf of the Irish, it was concluded. When in the year 1703,
only twelve years after the articles had been signed, a bill
(the first link of the penal code) was introduced into parlia
ment, the effect of which was utterly to abrogate those articles,
the eyes of the whole nation were turned upon the man who
had been instrumental in effecting that great national arrange
ment. Independently of his great abilities as an advocate, he
presented, in his own person, a more immediate and distinct
perception of that injustice which was about to be exercised
against the body, of which he was the ornament, and to which
his eloquence now afforded their only refuge.
In a book entitled " An Account of the Debates on the
Popery Laws," it is stated that the Papists of Ireland, obser
ving that the House of Commons was preparing the heads of a
bill to be transmitted to England to be drawn into an act to
prevent the growth of Popery, and having in vain endeavored
to put a stop to it there, at its remittance back to Ireland
presented to the House of Commons a petition praying to be
heard by their counsel against the bill, and to have a copy of
the bill, and to have a reasonable time to speak to it before it
passed, when it was ordered that they should be heard.
Upon Tuesday the 22d of February, 1703, Sir Theobald
Butler appeared at the bar, and with the treaty of Limerick
* The defender of Limerick, when besieged by the army of William III., at
the Revolution, was " the gallant Sarsfield" — so designated in the histories of
the time. He was created Earl of Lucan, by James II., but the title was not
legally recognised, for himself or his descendants, ia Great Britain or Ireland.
Limerick was surrendered to William, even while the Irish were within a few
hours of assistance from France, upon conditions, which, if carried out by the
English, would have secured equal civil rights and liberties to all of the Irish peo
ple, and bound Ireland to Great Britain by a sti'onger tie — that of justice ren
dered — than that of " allegiance." The treaty of Limerick, which terminated
the Dutchman's contest for a throne, was basely violated by England, when pe
nal laws against Catholics were enacted, instead of the promised justice. To
this day, the very stone on which that Ti'eaty was signed, is shown in Limerick,
and one of O'Connell's most stirring speeches, during the " Monster Meetings"
of 1843, was made within sight of this monument of Ireland's having trusted to
the honor of England — and having been deceived. — M.

THE TREATY OF LIMERICK. 81
in his hand, requested, on behalf of the Irish Roman Catholics,
to be heard. It must have been a very remarkable scene.
Whether we consider the assembly to which the remonstrance
was addressed, or the character and condition of the body on
whose behalf it was spoken, whose leading nobles, and they
were then numerous, stood beside their advocate at the bar of
the House, we can not but feel our minds impressed with a
vivid image of a most imposing, and in some particulars a very
moving spectacle.
The first advocate of his time, who was himself a principal
party in the cause which he came to plead, stood before a
Protestant House of Commons ; while below the bar were
assembled about their counsel the heads of the Roman Catholic
aristocracy. The latter constituted a much more extensive
and differently-constituted class of men from those by whom
they have been succeeded. They had been born to wealth and
honor : they had been induced, by a sentiment of chivalrous
devotion, to attach themselves to the fortunes of an unhappy
prince. The source of their calamities was in a lofty senti
ment. Almost all of them had been soldiers ; scarce a man of
them but had carried harness on his back. They were actu
ated by the high and gallant spirit which belongs to the pro
fession of arms. On the banks of the Boyne, on the hill of
Aughrim, and at the gates of Limerick, they had given evi
dences of valor, which, although unavailing, were not the less
heroic. They had been worsted, indeed ; but they had not
been subdued : they had been accustomed to consider their
privileges as secured by a great compact, and in substituting
the honor of England for the bastions of Limerick, they looked
upon their liberties as protected by still more impregnable
muniments. It is easy to imagine the dismay, the indignation, and the
anguish, with which these gentlemen must have seen a statute
in rapid progress through the legislature, which would not only
have the effect of violating the treaty of Limerick, and reduce
them to a state of utter servitude, but, by holding out the
estate of the father as a premium for the apostacy of the child,
would inculcate a revolt against the first instincts of nature,
4*

82 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
and the most sacred ordinances of God. Their advocate, at
least, saw the penal code in this light. " Is not this," he ex
claimed, " against the laws of God and man, against the rules
of reason and justice ; is not this the most effectual way in the
world to make children become undutiful, and to bring the
gray head of the parent to the grave with grief and tears ?"
In speaking thus, he did no more than give vent to the feelings
which, being himself a father, he must have deeply experi
enced ; and the heart of every parent whose cause he was
pleading, must have been riven by their utterance.
If there was something imposing in the sight of so many of
the old Catholic nobility of Ireland, of so many gallant sol
diers, gathered round their counsel in a group of venerable
figures (for most of those who had fought in the civil wars were
now old), the assembly to which they were come to offer then;
remonstrances must have also presented a very striking spec
tacle. The Irish House of Commons represented a victorious
and triumphant community. Pride, haughtiness, and disdain,
the arrogance of conquest, the appetite of unsatisfied revenge,
the consciousness of masterdom, and the determination to em
ploy it, must have given this fierce and despotic convention a
very marked character. Most of its members, as well as then:
Roman Catholic supplicants, had been soldiers ; and to the
gloom of Puritanism, to which they were still prone, they
united a martial and overbearing sternness, and exhibited the
flush of victory on their haughty and commanding aspect. To
this day, there are some traces of lugubrious peculiarity in the
descendants of the Cromwellian settlers in Ireland ; at the
period of which I speak, the children of the pious adventurers
must have exhibited still deeper gloom of visage, and a darker
severity of brow.
In addressing an assembly so constituted, and in surveying
which an ordinary man would have quailed. Sir Theobald
Butler had to perform a high and arduous duty. How must
he have felt, when, advancing to the bar of the House, he
threw his eyes around him, and beheld before him the lurid
looks and baleful countenances of the Protestant conquerors
of his country, and saw beside him the companions of his

SIR THEOBALD BTJTLEK. 83
youth, the associates of his early life, many of them his own
kindred, all of them his fellow-sufferers, clinging to him as to
their only stay, and substituting his talents for the arms which
he had persuaded them to lay down ! The men whom he had
seen working the cannon at the batteries of Limerick stood
now, with no other safeguard but his eloquence, at the mercy of
those whom they had fought in the breach and encountered in
the field. An orator of antiquity mentions that he never rose
to speak upon an important occasion without a tremor. When
the advocate of a whole people rose in the deep hush of expecta
tion, and in all that thrilling silence which awaits the first words
of a great public speaker, how must his heart have throbbed !
Sir Theobald Butler's speech (I dwell thus long upon the
subject, because the event which produced it has been attended
with such important consequences) comprehends almost every
reason which can be pressed against the enactment of the
penal code, as a violation of public faith. He did not, how
ever, confine himself to mere reasoning upon the subject, but
made an attempt to touch the feelings of his Protestant audi
tors. He has drawn a strong and simple picture of the domes
tic effects of the penal code in the families of Roman Catholics.
by transferring the estate of the father to his renegade son.
" That the law should invest any man with the power of
depriving his fellow-subject of his property would be a griev
ance. But my son — my child — the fruit of my body, whom
I have nursed in my bosom, and loved more dearly than my
life — to become my plunderer, to rob me of my estate, to take
away my bread, to cut my throat — it is enough to make the
most flinty heart bleed to think on it. For God's sake, gentle
men, make the case your own," &c.*
This adjuration exhibits no art of phrase, but it has nature,
which, as was observed by Dryden of Otway's plays, is, after
* Extracts from Sir Theobald Butler's speech were given about a year ago
in the Eioiie newspaper, which in a series of articles on Ireland contributed to
produce that calculation upon the feeling of the Roman Catholic body recently
evinced in the debates of the French parliament. [The extracts referred to
were supplied to L'Etoile by Mr. Sheil himself, with other articles (many of
them from his own pen), which were translated into English, and published
by the London press, as indicating French opinions on Irish subjects. — M.]

84 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
all, the greatest beauty. Those simple words, which contained
so much truth, can not be read without emotion; but how far
greater must have been their effect when uttered by a parent,
who was lifting up his voice to protect the sanctuaries of
nature against violation ! In what tone must a father have
exclaimed, " It would be hard from any man ; but from my
son, my child, the fruit of my body, whom I have nursed in
my bosom !" Surely, in the utterance of this appeal — not by
a mere mercenary artificer of passion, but by a man whom
everybody knew to be speaking the truth, and whose trembling
hands and quivering accents must have borne attestation to his
emotions — the sternest and most resolved of his judges must
have relented, and, like the evil spirit at the contemplation of
all the misery he was about to inflict —
" For a moment stood
Divested of his malice."
And if the hearts of the Protestant confiscators were touched.
did not the tears roll down the faces of the unfortunate Cath
olics who stood by — did they not turn to sob in the bosom of
their children, and, clasping them in their arras, inquire, in
the dumb eloquence of that parental embrace, " whether they
would ever strike the poniard, with which the law was about
to arm them, into their breasts V Their advocate did not,
however, merely appeal to the sensibilities of his auditors, but
swept his hand over strings by which a still deeper vibration
must have been produced.
He assumed a loftier and a bolder tone. He raised himself
up to the full height of his mind, and, appealing to the prin
ciples of eternal truth and justice, denounced the vengeance
of Heaven on those who should be so basely perfidious as to
violate a great and sacred compact ; and was sufficiently cour
ageous to remind a Protestant House of Commons that the
treaty of Limerick had been signed, " when the Catholics had
swords in their hands." This was a stirring sentence, and
sent many a heart-thrilling recollection into the hearts of those
to whom it was addressed. The prince of the conquerors must
have started, and the conquered must have looked upon hands in

THE TREATY OF LIMERICK. 85
which there were swords no more. It is recorded of an ancient
orator, that he exercised over the minds of his heroes an influ
ence so powerful, that his description of a battle was inter
rupted by the exclamation of a soldier who had been present
at the engagement, and whom the spell of eloquence had car
ried back to the field.
Even at this day, every reference to the siege of Limerick
produces an extraordinary excitation in Roman Catholic
assemblies ; and if the descendants of those whose rights were
secured by the treaty of Limerick, recur with indignation to
the incidents of that celebrated siege, to what a point of
excitation must the gallant cavaliers, by whom the advocate of
the Irish nation was surrounded, have been wrought, when he,
who was himself a party to that great national indenture, with
that deep and solemn tone and that lofty gravity of demeanor
for which he was remarkable, recalled the events in which
almost every man who heard him bore a conspicuous part. It
is in the remembrance of such scenes that memory may be
justly called, " The actor of our passions o'er again." I do not
think that I am guilty of any exaggeration, when I say that
in appealing to the time when the Roman Catholics had arms
in their hands, the advocate of their rights and the representa
tive of their emotions must have brought back many a martial,
recollection to the clients in whose front he stood, and whose
cause he was so emphatically pleading. The city, from which
William at its first siege, with an army of thirty thousand men,
had been driven back — the fortress, which art and nature had
conspired to make strong, and which valor and constancy
would have rendered impregnable — must have risen before
them. All the glorious circumstance incidental to their former
occupation must have returned. The shout of battle, the roar
of the cannon, the bloody foss, the assault and the repulse,
the devotion and abandonment, with which whole regiments
rushed through the gates, and precipitated themselves into
imaginary martyrdom — Sarsfield upon the battlements, the
green flag floating from the citadel, and the cry of " Help from
France!" — these must have been among the recollections
which were awakened by their advocate, while he appealed to

86 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
the time " when they had arms in their hands," and stood in
the fire of their batteries, and not at the threshold of the
House of Commons.
But, if the sentiment of martial pride was rekindled for
an instant, how quickly it must have gone out, and how soon
those emotions must have collapsed into despair. They must
have known, for the countenances of their victors must have
apprized them, that they had nothing to expect but servi
tude and all the shame that follows it ; and then, indeed,
they must have mourned over the day when, at the head of a
powerful armj', in a strong fortification, with several garrison-
towns still in their possession, with a great mass of the popu
lation ready to rush again to the field, and with a French fleet
freighted with arms and with troops in the Shannon, they had
been induced, upon the faith of a solemn compact, to lay down
their swords, and put their trust in the honor of the King and
the integrity of his people. They must have cursed the day,
when, instead of adding their bones to the remains of those
who lay slaughtered in the trenches of Limerick, they sm'vived
to behold the Protestants of Ireland taking advantage of that
fatal surrender, and in defiance of the most solemn compacts,
in violation of a clear and indisputable treaty, not only ex
cluding them from the honors and privileges of the state, hut
wresting their property from their hands, instituting a legalized
banditti of " discoverers," exciting their children into an insm--
rection against human nature, converting filial ingratitude into
a merit, and setting up parricide as a newly-invented virtue, in
the infernal ethics of the law.
As Sir Theobald Butler had anticipated (for he intimates it
in an involuntary expression of despondency), his arguments
were of little avail, and he lived long enough to see the penal
code carried to its atrocious perfection, and chain after chain
thrown upon his country. He even survived an act of parlia
ment by which Roman Catholics were excluded from the pro
fession in which he had earned fortune and renown. It is a
common notion that he changed his religion in order to avert
the evils which he so powerfully described ; but I was informed
by his grandson, Mr. Augustine Butler, that he died in the reli-

SIR THEOBALD BUTLEK. 87
gion in which he had liveij,* and that his great estates became
in consec[uence equally divisible among his children.! He
was interred in the chnrch-yard of St. James's church, in Dub
lin, where a huge but rather uncouth monument has been
raised to his memory. His epitaph differs from most obituary
panegyrics, by the adherence of encomium to truth. It is
inscribed under a rude and now mutilated bust, and runs as
follows : — Designatur hac effigie
Theobaldus e gente Butlera
Hibemus Jurisconsultus
Legum, Patrise, nominis decu3
Dignitate equestri donatus, non auctus
Causidicus
Argxitus, concinnus, integer
Barbaric forensi, et vemacula disertus
Non partium studio
Non favoris aucupio
Non verborum lenocinio
Sed rerum pondeie
Et ingenii vi insita
Et legum scientia penitiori
Pollens
Quern lingua solers, illibata fides
Comitate et sale multo condita gravitaa
Quem vitEe tenor sincerus
Et recti custos animus
Legum recondita depromere sagax
Ad famag fastigium evexere
Fortunte etiam, ni religio obstaret, facile evexissent.
Obiit Septuagenarius XI Martii, 1720.
Notwithstanding the exclusion of Eoman Catholics from
the Bar, the expedient which was adopted for the purpose
does not appear to have been found effectual. A certificate of
* Sir Theobold Butler died in March, 1720, aged seventy. — M.
t The anti-Catholic Penal code enacted, among many other things, that no
Catholic heir could profit by primogeniture, but that the real estate was equally
divisible among all the children, but that if he turned Protestant he would then
have the whole estate, even in his father's lifetime : if a Protestant went over
to the Church of Rome, or procured another to do so, it was high treason. A
Catholic wife was allowed an increase of jointure, on becoming a Protestant.
A priest who mamed a Catholic lo a Protestant, was liable to be hanged. — M.

88 THE CATHOLIC BAR.
conformity was all that was required, and this certificate was
so easily obtained, that the members of the obnoxious religion
were still able to creep and steal into the profession. The
letters of Primate Boulter,* who governed Ireland for a con
siderable time, and whose simple maxim it was to keep Ire
land divided in order that her dependency might be secured,
give us a very curious insight into the state of the Irish Bar in
the year 1727. In a letter dated the 7th of March, 1727, he
writes : " There is a bill gone over to regulate the admission
of barrister, attorneys, six clerks, solicitors, sub-sherifis, &c.,
which is of the last consequence to this kingdom. The prac
tice of the law, from the top to the bottom, is at present mostly
in the hands of new converts, who give no further security
on this account than producing a certificate of their having
received the sacrament in the Church of England or Ireland,
which several of them, who were Papists in London, obtain in
the road hither, and demand to be admitted barristers in vir
tue of it at their arrival, and several of them have Popish
wives, and have masses said in their houses. Everybody here
is sensible of the terrible effects of this growing evil, and both
Lords and Commons are most eagerly desirous of this bill."
(Boulter's Letters, vol. i., p. 179.)
The horror entertained by his Grace of Dublin for barris
ters, whose better halves were infected with Popery, a.;^ears
ludicrous at this day. Doctor King considered the division of
allegiance at the Bar, between the law and the fair sex, as
highly dangerous to the security of the Established Church,
and would have taken " au pie de la lettre" what Lord Ches
terfield said of the beautiful Lady Palmer,t that she was the
only " dangerous Papist" he had ever seen in Ireland.
* Hugh Boulter was Archbishop of Armagh, Primate of Ireland, and virtual
Governor of the country, during the earlier period of the Hanoverian dynasty,
and is chiefly remai'kable for having established schools for the instruction of
the Irish children ; which seminaries were eventually perverted, by the Ascen
dency party, to purposes of proselytism. — Primate Boulter died in 1742. — M.
t The writer of this article was acquainted with Lady Palmer, when she
was upward of one hundred years of ngc. Tho admiration which Lord Ches
terfield is known to have entertained for this lady induced me to seek an intro
duction to her. Although rich, she occupied a small lodging in Henry street,

LADY PALMEK. 89
I know not, however, whether the feeling by which Doctor
King was influenced, be wholly extinct. I do not mean to say
that Lord Wellesley would object to a barrister on account of
where she lived secluded and alone. Over the chimney-piece of the front
drawing-room was suspended the picture of her platonic idolater. It was a half-
length portrait, and had, I believe, been given to her by the man of whose
adoration she was virtuously vain. I was engaged in looking at this picture,
while I waited on the day of my first introduction for this pristine beauty of the
Irish court. While I gazed upon the picture of a man who united so many
accomplishments of manner and of mind, and observed the fine intellectual
smile, which the painter had succeeded in stealing upon animated canvass, I
fell into a somewhat imaginative strain of thought, and asked myself what sort
of woman " the dangerous Papist" must have been, in whom the master of the
graces had found such enchanting peril. " What a charm," I said, ** must she
have possessed, upon whose face and form those bright eyes reposed in il
luminated sweetness, — how soft and magical must have been the voice from
whose whispers those lips have hung so often, what gracefulness of mind, what
an easy dignity of depoi-tment, what elegance of movement, what sweet vivacity
of expression, how much polished gayety and bewitching sentiment must have
been united!" I had formed to myself an ideal image of the young, the soft,
the fresh, the beautiful, and tender girl, who had fascinated the magician of so
m;ajiy spells. The pictm-e was almost complete. The Castle in all its quondam
lustre rose before me, and I almost saw my Lord Chestei-field conducting Lady
Palmer through the movements of a minuet, when the door was slowly opened,
and in the midst of a volume of smoke, which, during my phantasmagoric ima
ginations, had not inappropriately filled the room, I beheld in her own proper
person the being, in whose ideal creation I had indulged in a sort of Pygmalian
dream. The opening of the door produced a rush of air, which caused the
smoke to spread out in huge wreaths about her, and a weird and withered form
stood in the midst of the dispersing vapor. She fixed upon me a wild and
sorceress eye, the expression of which was aided by her attitude, her black at
tire, her elongated neck, her marked and strongly-moulded, but emaciated fea
tures. She leaned with her long arm and her withered hand of discolored parch
ment upon au ivory-headed cane, while she stretched forth her interrogating
face, and with a smile, not free from ghastliness, inquired my name. I men
tioned it, and her expression, as she had been informed that I was to visit her,
immediately changed. After the ordinary formulas of civility, she placed her
self in a huge chair, and entered at once into politics. She was a most vehe
ment Catholic, and was just the sort of person that Sir Harcourt Lees would
have ducked for a rebel and a witch. Lord Chesterfield and the Catholic
question were the only subjects in which she seemed to take any interest.
Upon the wrongs done to her country, she spoke not only with energy, but with
eloquence, and with every pinch of snuff poured out a sentence of sedition,
"Steth, sir, it is not to be borne," she used to exclaim, as she lifted her figure
from the stoop of age, with her eyes flashing with fire, and struck her cane vio-

90 TIIK CATHOLIC BAR.
his " having a Popish wife, and mass said in his house ; but it
is observable that, of the three Catholic barristers who have
been promoted under his Lordship's administration, by a
strange matrimonial coincidence every one is married to a
Protestant. The bill sent over by Primate Boulter was carried, and
Catholics were effectually excluded from the Bar. From 1725
to 1793 lawyers earnestly and strenuously professed the doc
trines of the state; and although upon his death-bed many
an orator of renown supplicated in a Connaught accent for a
prieat, yet his lady, whose gentility of religion was brought
into some sort of question, and who would have considered it
as utterly derogatory to set up a widow's cap to the memory of
a relapsed papist, either drowned the agonies of conscience in
the vehemence of her sorrows, or slapped the door in the face
of the intrepid Jesuit, who had adventured upon the almost
hopeless enterprise of saving the soul of the expiring counsel
lor. The Bar gradually assumed a decidedly Protestant char
acter ; and although an occasional Catholic practised as a
conveyancer, yet none obtained any celebrity in the only
department of the law from which Roman Catholics were not
actually excluded. Indeed, they held so low a place, that it
appears to have been a kind of disrepute to have had anything
to do with them; and I remember to have read, in the cause
of Simpson against Lord Mountmorris, the deposition of a
witness, who stated as a ground for impeaching a deed, exe
cuted by the Earl of Anglesea, that it was drawn by a Papist.
Roman Catholics were, at this period, excluded from the
lently to the ground. Wishing to turn the conversation to more interesting
matter, I told her I was not surprised at Lord Chestei-field having called her a
** dangerous Papist." I had touched a chord, which, though slackened, was
not wholly unstrung. ' The patriot relapsed into the woman ; and passing at
once from her former look and attitude, she leaned back in her chair, and draw
ing her withered hands together, while her arms fell loosely and languidly be
fore her, she looked up at the picture of Lord Chesterfeld wdth a melancholy
Braile. " Ah !" she said  But I have extended this notice beyond all
reasonable compass. I think it right to add, after so much mention of Lady
Palmer, that although she was vain of tho admiration of Lord Chesterfield, she
took care never to lose his esteem, and that her reputation was without 0
blemish.

HALF CONCESSIONS. 91
English, as well as from the Irish Bar ; but Booth, the great
conveyancer, was a Roman Catholic, and, before the professors
of his religion were admissible to the rank of counsel, Mr.
Charles Butler, of Lincoln's Inn, had obtained great fame.
In the year 1793 the great act for the relief of the Roman
Catholics was passed. It was a piece of niggard and prepos
terous legislation : all, or nothing, should have been conceded.
The effect of a partial enfranchisement was to give the means
of acquiring wealth, influence, intelligence, and power, and yet
withhold the only legitimate means of employing them. The
Roman Catholics were not admitted into, but brought within
reach of the constitution. They were still placed beyond the
state, and were furnished with a lever to shake it. They
obtained that external point d'appui from which they have
been enabled to exercise a disturbing power. The extension
of the elective franchise to men, who were at the same time
declared to be ineligible to parliament, and the admission of
Catholics to the Bar while they were denied its honorable
reward, are conspicuous instances of impolicy.
The late Mr. George Ponsonby* was strongly impressed
with the imprudence of allowing Roman Catholics to enter the
race of intelligence, and yet shut up the goal. He felt that the
government were disciplining troops against themselves, and
insisted on the absurdity of exciting ambition, and at the same
time closing the avenues to its legitimate gratification. He
saw that, so far from conciliating the Roman Catholic body oj
so imperfect and lame a measure of relief, their indignation
would rather be provoked by what was refused, than their
gratitude be awakened by what was granted : desire would be
inflamed by an approach to its object, while it was denied its
natural and tranquillizing enjoyment. Mr. Ponsonby's antici
pations were well-founded, and are going through a rapid
process of verification.
The first Roman Catholics who took advantage of the en
nobling statute, were Mr. Donnellan, Mr. Mac Kenna, Mr.
Lynch, and Mr. Bellew. Every one of those gentlemen [quod
* Lord Chanceller of Ireland under " All the Talents" Ministry of 1806-'7.
A brief memoir of him occurs in the previous volume. — M.

92 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
nota, as Lord Coke says in his occasional intimations to Junior
Bar) was provided for by Government. Mr. Donnellan ob
tained a place in the revenue ; Mr. Mac Kenna wrote some
very clever political tracts, and was silenced with a pension ;
Mr. Lynch married a widow with a pension, which was
doubled after his marriage ; and Mr. Bellew is in the receipt
of six hundred pounds a year, paid to him quartetly at the
Treasury. The latter gentleman is deserving of notice.
Whether I consider him as an individual, as the representa
tive of the old Catholic aristocracy at the Bar, as a politician,
a religionist, or a pensioner, I look upon this able, upright,
starch, solemn, didactic, pragmatical, inflexible, uncompromi
sing, obstinate, pious, moral, good, benevolent, high-minded
and exceedingly wrong-headed person, as in every way en
titled to regard.
Mr. William Bellew is a member of one of the most distin
guished Roman Catholic families in Ireland. There was
formerly a peerage attached to his name, which was extin
guished in an attainder. A baronetcy was retained. His
father. Sir Patrick Bellew, was a man of a high spirit, distin
guished for his munificence, and that species of disastrous
hospitality, by which many a fine estate was so iugloriously
dismembered. He constituted a sort of exception among the
Catholic gentry ; for at the time when that body sank under
the weight of accumulated indignities. Sir Patrick Bellew ex
hibited a lofty sense of his personal importance, and was suf
ficiently bold to carry a sword. His property descended to
his eldest son. Sir Edward Bellew.* Mr. William Bellew, the
barrister, who was his second son, was sent to the Anglo-Saxon
university of Douay, whence he returned with all the alti
tude of demeanor for which his father was remarkable, but with
a profound veneration for all constituted authorities, of what
ever nature, kind, or degree, and with abstract tendencies to
political submission, which are by no means at variance with
a man's interests in Ireland.
* Sir Edward Bellew, who died in 1827, was M. P. for, and Lord Lieuten-
Djit of, the County of Loutli. He was succeeded by his son, the present Sir
Patrick Bellew. — M.

^ WILLIAM BELLEW. 93
He was one of the first Roman Catholics called to the Bar,
and I have understood from some of his contemporaries, that, as
he represented the Catholic gentry, and was considered to
take a decided lead in their proceedings, in his first appear
ance in the Four Courts he attracted much notice. His gen
eral bearing produced a sort of awe ; and it was obvious that,
as Owen Glendower says, " he was not in the roll of common
men." His lofty person, his stately walk, his perpendicular
attitude, the rectilineal position of his head, his solemnity of
gesture, the deep and meditative gravity of his expression, his
sustained and measured utterance, the deliberation of his tones,
his self-collectedness and concentration, and that condensed,
but by no means arrogant or overweening, look of superiority
by which he is characterized, fixed a universal gaze upon
him; and from the contrast between him, and the rapid, bus
tling, and airy manner of most of his brethren, excited a
general curiosity. Heedlfess of observation, and scarcely con
scious of it, the forensic aristocrat passed through the throng
of wondering spectators, and as Horatio says of the Royal
Dane, " with solemn march
Went slow and stately by them/'
There was, indeed, something spectral in his aspect. The
phantom of the old Catholic aristocracy seemed to have been
evoked in his person, while the genius of Protestant ascend
ency shrunk before its majestic apparition. All idea of check
ing " the growth of Popery" vanished in an instant at his
sight ; the only man who could compete with him in longitude
of dimensions being Mr. Mahaffy ; but that gentleman's stu
pendous length sat uneasily upon him, whereas the soul of the
lofty Papist seemed to inhabit every department of his frame,
and would have disdained to occupy anj' other than its sublime
and appropriate residence. High as his post and demeanor
were, they were wholly free from affectation. With a great
deal of pride, he manifested neither insolence nor conceit*
He looked far more dignified than authoritative ; and although
a strong expression of austerity was inscribed upon his counte
nance, it was by no means heartless or even severe. If I were

94 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
a painter and were employed to furnish illustrations of Ivan-
hoe, I do not think that I could find a more appropriate model
than Mr. Bellew for the picture of Lucas Beaumanoir. His
visage is inexorable without fierceness ; and many a time hath
he been observed fixing his immitigable eye upon a beauty in
the dock at the assizes of Dundalk, with that expression with
which the Grand Master is represented to have surveyed the
unfortunate Jewess. His friend Mr. Mac Kenna used to ob
serve, that " if William Bellew saw a man hanging from every
lamp-post down Capel street, in his morning walk from Great
Charles street to the Four Courts, the only question he would
ask, would be whether they were hanged according to lawl"
Mr. Bellew came with signal advantages to the Bar. He
was closely connected with the oldest and most opulent Roman
Catholic families, and was employed as their domestic counsel.
Their wills, their purchases, and marriage articles were drawn
under his inspection. It was, I have heard, not a little agree
able to behold Mr. Bellew going through a marriage settle
ment, where an ancient Catholic family was to be connected
with an inferior caste. In Ireland, as well as in the sister-
country, the pride of birth prevails among the Roman Catholic
gentry beyond almost any other passion. As in England we
find a universal diffusion of cousinship through the principal
Catholic houses, so the ancient blood of the Catholics of the
Pale has been, by a similar process of intermarriage, carried
through an almost uniform circulation.
This pride of birth among the Catholic gentry, when ex
cluded from political distinction, was perfectly natural. Hav
ing no field for the exercise of their talents, and without any
prospect of obtaining an ascent in society through their own
merits, they looked back to the achievements of their ances
tors, and consoled themselves with the brilliant retrospect.
While a young Irish Protestant threw himself into the field of
politics, an Irish Catholic was left without the least scope for
enterprise, and had scarce any resource, but to pace up and
down the damp apartments of his family mansion, and to com
mune with the high-plumed warriors of the Pale, who frowned
in mouldering paint before him. The young ladies too were

WILLIAM BELLEW. 95
instructed to look with emulation on the composed visages of
their grand aunts, and to reverence the huge circumference of
hoop in which their more sacred symmetries were encompassed
and concealed.
For a considerable time, it was possible to maintain the
dignity of the Roman Catholic families without any plebeian
intercourse ; but at last the pressure of mortgages and judg
ments became too great, and it was requisite to save the estate
at the expense of the purity of its owner's blood. After a
struggle and a sigh, the head of an old Catholic house resigned
himself to the urgency of circumstances, and yielded to the
necessity of intermingling the vulgar stream, which had crept
through the grocers and manufacturers of the Liberty, with a
current which, however pure, began to run low. A priest, a
friend of the family — who, as matrimony is one of the seven
sacraments, thinks himself in duty bound to promote so salu
brious a rite, is consulted. He gives a couple of taps to his
gold snuff-box, tenders a pinch to the old gentleman ; protests
that there are risks in celibacy — that it is needful to husband
the constitution and the estate ; and, observing that the young
squire, though a little pale, is a pretty fellow, puts his finger
to his nose, and hints at a young damsel in New-Row (a peni
tent of his reverence, and a mighty good kind of young woman,
not long come from the Cork convent), with ruddy cheeks and
vigorous arms, a robust waist and antigallican toes. The
parties are brought together. The effect of juxtaposition is
notorious — most of my readers know it by experience. The
young gentleman stutters a compliment ; the heart of the
young lady and her wooden fan are in a flutter ; the question
is popped. The old people put their heads together. Con
sideration of the marriage, high blood, and equity of redemp
tion, upon one side ; and rude health and twenty thousand
pounds on the other. The bargain is struck ; and, to insure
the hymeneal negotiation, nothing remains but that Counsellor
Bellew should look over the settlements.
Accordingly a Galway attorney prepares the draft marriage
settlement, with a skin for every thousand, and waits on
Mr. Bellew. Laying thirty guineas on the tables, and think-

96 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
ing that upon the credit of such a fee he may presume to offer
his opinion, he commences with an ejaculation on the fall of
the good old families, until Mr. Bellew, after counting the
money, casts a Cains Marius look upon him, and awes him
into respect. He unrolls the volume of parchment, and the
eye of the illustrious conveyancer glistens at the sight of the
ancient and venerable name that stands at the head of the
indenture. But, as he advances through the labyrinth of
limitations, he grows alarmed and disturbed ; and, on arriving
at the words " on the body of the said Judy Mac Gilligan to
be begotten," he drops his pen, and puts the settlement away,
with something of the look of a Frenchman when he intimates
his perception of an unusually bad smell. It is only after an
interval of reflection, and when he has recalled the fiscal phi
losophy of Vespasian, that he is persuaded to resume his
labors ; but does not completely recover his tranquillity of
mind until, turning the back of his brief, he marks that most
harmonious of all monosyllables, " paid," at the foot of the
consolatory stipend.
No man at the Bar is more exact, careful, technical, and
expert, in conveyancing, than Mr. Bellew. He at one time
monopolized the whole Catholic business.
Nor was it to the Roman Catholic body that his reputation
as a lawyer was confined. He deservedly obtained a very
high character with the whole public for the extent of his
erudition, his familiar knowledge of equity and of the common
law, the clearness of his statements, the ingenuity and astute
ness of his reasoning, and for that species of calm and delib
erative elocution which is of such importance in the Court of
Chancery.* I look upon Mr. Bellew as a man who has most
* In a book like this, chiefly devoted to legal subjects, it can not be out of
place to make a brief statement respecting the British Court of Chanceiy.
Next below tho House of Lords, before which come all final appeals — the Chan
cery Court has jurisdiction. Originally established to moderate the severity
and rectify the errors of the other Courts, its proceedings are essentially in
equity, though, at times, it can act in the capacity of a Court of common law,
though it can not summon a jury or try facts. Its power has been immense
since its establishment, the exact date of which is not known, thqjigh it is as
certained that this Court had a separate jurisdiction on the reign of Edward

THE COURT OF CHANCERY. 97
grievously suffered by his exclusion from the inner bar, from
which nothing but his religion could have kept him. It was
in the Court of Chancery that his business lay almost entirely;
m., and is believed to have been derived from the rule of the Saxon monarchs,
when a party who thought justice was not rendered to him could appeal to the
King in Council, for his revision of the case, most of which appeals, aa they
grew numerous, were transferred to a subject "learned in the law" — usually
an ecclesiastic, at that time. This Court (amid other means to defeat and pim-
ish fraud, oppression, breaches of trust, and every kind of injustice) can com
pel a defendant to discover facts which are against his own cause. But the
great evil, arising from increase and accumulation of business as well as from
the delays of judges, has been the dilatory nature, with the consequent expense
of the proceedings requisite to obtain a decision. Under Lord Eldon, who was
Lord Chancellor for five-and-twenty years, and who doubted upon the simplest
points, though his judgments were excellent when given, the Court of Chan
cery became a crying evil instead of a substantial good. Expenses and delays
ruined many wealthy persons who had come before this tribunal, and it caused
many a broken heart, and ruined hope. In Lord Eldon's time, owing to the
accumulation of business, the amount of property litigated in Chancery, was
eleven million pounds sterling or fifty-five million dollars. When Brougham
was in the House of Commons, he repeatedly and strongly contended for the
necessity of a Reform in the Court of Chancery. In 1830, Brougham became
Chancellor. "There is Brougham," said Sydney Smith, "sworn in as Chan
cellor at noon, and laying on the table of the Lords, at six o^clock the same
day, a BiU for Chancery Reform." A great deal was attempted in this respect
— but the Lord Chancellor, who is not only a judge, but also a political leader,
as one of the Cabinet, besides having to sit as Speaker of the House of Lords,
is unable to do everything, unless he had fifty hands and twice fifty heads. The
separation of the judicial from political labors of the Chancery has been sug
gested, and will probably take place. Lord Brougham, during the four years
he presided, disposed of nearly aH the arrears of his predecessors, Eldon and
Lyndhm-st, and cleared off, by prompt adjudication, the cases which originated
in his own time and were ripe for decision. His successors (Cottenham, Lynd
hurst, and Truro), did not follow in his steps ; ill-health, pre-occupation with
other matters, and disinclination to labor prevented them. In 1852, during
nine months of which Lord St. Leonards was Chancellor, he manifested a strong
inclination to reform the Chancery system ; his successor, Lord Cranworth,
appears disposed to let matters rest as they are. But there is a vast improve
ment on the system as it was in Lord Eldon's doubtfiil era. In his time, and
greatly against his consent, a Vice-Chancellor was appointed, to assist the
Chancellor — there now are three, besides two Lord Justices of Appeal, while
a great deal of equity business continues to be done by the Master of the Rolls,
The delaying course of referring cases to the Masters in Chancery, for inquiry,
is in course of change ; the number of Masters is lessened, and on the judges
themselves will principally rest the immediate inquiry into, and examination of
Vol. II.— 5

98 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
and in that Court, it is absolutely necessary to have a silk
gown, in order to be listened to with ordinary attention. The
reason is this : not that Lord Manners pays no respect to any
individual who is not in silk attire, but because the multitude
of King's Counsel, who precede a lawyer in a stuff gown, of
necessity exhaust the subject, and leave him the lees and
dregs of the case.*
Mr. Bellew has lived to see his inferiors in talent and in
knowledge raised above his head, and it is now his doom, at
the end of a cause, to send his arguments like spent shot, after
the real contest has been decided, and the hot fire is over. His
situation would be very different, indeed, if it were his office
to state cases and open important motions, for which no man
is more eminently qualified. The whole Bar feel that he
labors under a great hardship in this particular, for which a
pension of six hundred pounds sterling a-year affords a very
inadequate compensation. Mr. Bellew's pension of six hundred
pounds has effectually excluded him from all useful inter
ference in Roman Catholic affairs ; for, whenever he opposes
a popular measure, it is sufficient to refer to his salary at the
Castle, in order to excite the popular feeling again.st him. He
has, however, upon this subject, been a good deal misrepre
sented, and it is only an act of justice to him to state the facts.
The Catholic aristocracy supported the Union. They were
led astray by a promise from Lord Cornwallis, and by such an
intimation from Pitt as induced him to resign.f I do not
facts. With such " aids and appliances to boot," it is natural to expect that
in future, cases will not be before the Court for forty, thirty, or even twenty
years : one case was actually undecided after it had been over a centmy in the
Court. — M.
* At the Irish, as well as at the English bar, no counsel is allowed to go ovei
the same line of argument taken by another. Therefore, pre-audience being
the right of those who have patents of precedency, or wear the silk gown or the
coif, the junior in a stuff gown usually finds the subject exhausted, by previous
speakers, before he has an opportunity of speaking. Now and then, a junio:
makes a hit by coming out with points of law or quoting cases neglected by his
seniors — but this is rare. — M.
+ There is no doubt that Pitt, when he inti-igued to effect the Union, promised
that it should be followed by Catholic Emancipation. When he found thai
George III. would not allow him to fulfil this promise, Pitt at once re-

ME. BELLEW. 99
intend to discuss the merits of the question, but can readily
conceive that many a good man might have advocated the
measure, without earning for his motto," Vendidit hie auro
patnam."* I am fully convinced, from what I know of the
honorable cast of Mr. Bellew's mind, that he never did pro
mote the measure from any sordid views to his own interest.
Lord Castlereagh was well aware of the importance of securing
the support of the leading Eoman Catholic gentry, and the place
of assistant-barrister was promised to Mr. Bellew. Whether the
promise was made before or after the Union, I am not aware ;
nor is it of consequence excepting we adopt the scholastic
distinction of Father Foigard, in his argumentative assault
upon Cherry's virtue : " If it be before, it is a bribe ; if it be
after, it is only a gratification." At all events, I am con
vinced that Mr. Bellew did nothing at variance with honor
and conscience from any mercenary consideration.
The place of assistant-barrister became vacant : Lord Cas
tlereagh was reminded of his engagement, when, behold 1 a
petition, signed by the magistrates of the county to which Mr.
Bellew was about to be nominated, is presented to the Lord-
Lieutenant, praying that a Eoman Catholic should not be
appointed to any judicial oflSce, and intimating their determina-
signed — as it was made, with an impression on his mind, cunningly kept up
by the King, that there would be no obstacle, on the part of Royalty, to admit
ting the Catholics within the pale of the Constitution. — Lord Cornwallis, men
tioned in the text, was Lord Lieutenant of Leland during the insurrection of
1798, and went as plenipotentiary to France, in 1801, in which capacity he
signed the treaty of Amiens. His whole public course was distinguished. In
1770, he was one of the four young peers who joined Lord Camden in a prot
est against the taxation of America, which made Lord Mansfield sneeringly
say, " Poor Camden ! he could only get four boys to support him" — yet, as a
military man. Lord Cornwallis had ii command in the American war, where
he concluded his operations by being out-generalled by Washington, to whom
he surrendered himself and his army. In 1786, he went out to India, as Gov
ernor-General and commander-in-chief, where he distinguished himself against
Tippoo Saib. On his return, he was made a Marquis, in 1792. He was again
sent to India in 1804, where he died, in 1805, aged sixty-seven. He was pop
ular in Ireland, as well as in India, having certainly exerted himself to check
the inhumanity of the triumphant royalists. He had no genius, but a great
deal of common sense — which is more rare and valuable. — M.
* He sold his country for gold. — M.

100 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
tion not to act with him. The government were a good deal
embarrassed by this notification ; and in order at once to fulfil
the spirit of their contract, and not to give offence to the
Protestant magistrates, a pension equivalent to the salary of a
chairman was given to Mr. Bellew, and he was put in the
enjoyment of the fruits of the office, without the labor of
cultivation.* That it was reprehensible to tax the people with an addi
tional pension on the part of the Irish government, out of the
miserable dread of irritating a few Protestant gentlemen, can
not, I think, be questioned : and but few persons will he in
clined to attach any great blame to Mr. Bellew for having ac
cepted of this compensation. It would be very idle, however,
to enter into any explanation upon these subjects with the
Eoman Catholic body, among whom the very name of pen
sioner, connected as it is with all sorts of back door and post
ern services at the Castle, carries a deep stigma. No matter
how well Mr. Bellew may argue a point at a Catholic assem
bly ; no matter how cogent and convincing his arguments may
* The County judges in Ireland, who ^'irtually preside at Quarter Sessions,
while they are supposed only to advise the justices of the peace who sit (ignoranl
of law) upon the Bench, are called Assistant-Ban-isters, an appellation which
by no means indicates their position and duties. Richard Martin, formerly of
the Irish and now of the English bar — a man of great legal acumen, dear and
reasoning eloquence, ready wit, and vast personal weight — tells a good an
ecdote illustrative of this. Henry Deane Freeman, an eminent lawyer, was
" Assistant Barrister" in one of the Connaught counties, and went the Munster-
Circuit, as a practising lawyer. He was prosecuting a man accused of robbery,
who produced as witness to his chai'acter, another worthy, instantly recognised
by Mr. Freeman, as an old acquaintance. In cross-examination this man wm
asked, ** Have not you stood in the dock, as a ciiminal ?" — The witness sulkily
replied, " What's that to you 7" — Mr. Freeman ; " Youmust answer me. Were
not you tried in Galway for robbery?" Witness: "Well, if I was, I didn't
do it." — Mr. Freeman: " Of course not — the number of innocent culprits is
immense. Were not you convicted and sent to jail for six months?" — By
this time, the witness had recognised his examiner, who, as Assistant-Barrister
in Galway, had tried and sentenced him. Turning to the judge, with a side
long look of contempt at Mr. Freeman, he said, sotto voce, as if he were confi
dentially communicating valuable information, " My Lord ! you must not mind
what that fellow says. He's an impostor. He isn't a real baiTister. He'a
only an i4«-sistant Barrister, and not worth your notice." — M.

ME. BELLEW. 101
be in favor of a more calm and moderate tone of proceedings ;
the moment Mr. O'Connell lifts up his strong arm, and with
an ejaculation of integrity " thanks his God that he is not a
pensioner !" all the Douay syllogisms of Mr. Bellew vanish at
the exclamation, and yells and shouts assail the retainer of
government from every side. Had he the eloquence of De
mosthenes, the clinking of the gold would be heard amid the
thunder. Tet I entertain no doubt that Mr. Bellew has not, in his
political conduct, been actuated by any mean and dishonest
motive. I utterly dissent from him in his views, principles,
and opinions; but I believe that he is only acting in confor
mity with impressions received at a very early period, which
his education and habits tended not a little to confirm. His
first opinions were formed at a period when the Eoman Catho
lic aristocracy was actuated by a spirit very different from
that which it has lately evinced. Much condemnation has
been attached to that body for their want of vigor in the con
duct of Catholic affairs. But allowances ought to be made for
them. The penal code had, after a few years, ground the gen
try almost to powder. They lived in a state of equal terror
and humiliation. From their infancy they were instructed to
look upon every Protestant with alarm ; for it was in the
power of the meanest member of that privileged class to file a
bill of discovery, and strip them of their estates. At their
ordinary meals, they must have regarded their own children
with awe, and felt that they were at their mercy.
Swift represents the whole body as little better than hewers
of wood and drawers of water. The complication of indignities
to which they were exposed must necessarily have generated
bad moral influences ; and accordingly we find in their petitions
and remonstrances a tone of subserviency at which their de
scendants would blush. Even after the penal code was re
laxed, and they were restored to the rank of citizens, they
preserved the attitude of humility to which they had been
accustomed ; and when the load which they had carried so
long was taken off, they retained a stoop. At length, how
ever, they stand erect in their country ; and, with very few

102 THE CATHOLIC BAE.
exceptions, exhibit the same spirit as the great mass of the
people. Lord Fingall, though prevented by his health from taking
an active part in public affairs, gives evidence of his assent
to the bold and vigorous course of measures adopted by the
body, of which he is the hereditary head, by the presence of
his son. The latter. Lord Killeen, manifests as much energy
and determination, as he does sound sense and admirable dis
cretion.* Lord Gormanstown has thrown himself with en
thusiasm into the national cause, and feels the injuries of hia
country with a deep and indignant sensibility ;t and even Lord
Kenmare, whose love of retirement excludes him from the
bustle of public meetings, lends to the Catholic Association
the authority of his name, and shows that the spirit of patriot
ism has penetrated the deep woods of Killarney, in which his
lordship and his excellent lady (the sister of Mr. Wilmot Hor
ton) are connubially embowered.f I should not omit to add,
* The late Earl of Fingall was the Catholic Peer who, at the Royal visit to
Ireland in 1821, was made a Knight of St Patrick by George IV. In the poem
called " The Irish Avatara," in ridicule of the servility of all ranks and creeds on
this occasion, Byron asks
** Will thy yard of blue riband, poor Fingall, recall
The fetters from millions of Catholic limbs?"
The barony of Killeen dates as early as 1181. The Earldom was created in
1628, and Lord Fingall was made a peer of the United Kingdom in 1831. He
died in July, 1826. His son. Lord Killeen, who is Lord Lieutenant of Meath,
represented that county in 1831, and took a prominent part in politics, before
the Catholic Relief Bill was passed, in 1829. He is a Privy Counsellor of Ire
land. — M.
t An ancestor of Viscount Gormanstown sided with James II., in Ireland,
and after his death William's government passed an outlawry against him for
high treason. The title ceased to be legally recognised, but in August, 1800,
on proceedings taken in the Court of King's Bench, by consent of the Crown,
the outlawry was reversed, and Jenico Preston received a writ of summons as
a peer, and is the twelfth Viscount. He took part with O'Connell in the agi
tation preceding Emancipation. — M.
t The ancestor of the Earl of Kenmai'e received a peerage fi'om James II.
which was not recognised, as it was conferred after that Monarch had lost the
throne. In 1800, the Earldom was created anew. In 1841, Lord Kenmare
was made a British peer. After Emancipation, he took little part in politics,
but was a Catholic and a Whig. He died in the autumn of 1853. The Ken-

ME. BELLEW. 103
that Sir Edward Bellew and his son, who is a young man of
very considerable abilities, and likely to make a distinguished
figure, displayed during the late election for the county of
Louth great public spirit, energy, and determination.
But amid this almost universal change in the general tem
perature of the country, amid this general ascent of the mer
curial spirit of the people, Mr. William Bellew remains at
zero. Not the smallest influence is perceptible in the cold
rigidity of his opinions. True to the doctrine of non-resist
ance, he brings up in its support the whole barbarous array
of syllogistic forms with which his recollections of Douay can
supply him. It is in vain that the rapid progress of the Cath
olic cause is urged against him : you appeal in vain to the
firmness, union, and organization of the people, which have
been effected through the Catholic Association : the insurrection
of the peasantry against their landlords, and the consequent
sense of their own rights with which they have begun to be
impressed, are treated with utter scorn by this able dialecti
cian, who meets you at every step with his major drawn from
religion, and his minor derived from passive obedience, and
disperses your harangue with his peremptory conclusion. Nor
is it to speculation that he confines his innate reverence
for the powers that be; for after the dissolution of the' old
Eoman Catholic Association by an act of Parliament, when
an effort was making to raise another body out of its ruins, of
his own accord Mr. Bellew gratuitously published a letter, in
the public journals, to demonstrate to the Attorney-General
that it would be legal to put it down. In this view Mr. Plun
ket does not appear to have concurred.
mare estates include some of the finest parts of Killame}' scenery, and the Earl,
who was not an absentee, was an excellent landlord. — Sir Robert Wilmot Hor
ton, who assumed the latter name on marriage with an heiress — a very lovely
woman, upon whom Lord Byron wrote the lines commencing ^
" She walks in beauty — like the light
Of cloudless climes and stormy skies.
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes ;"
was an earnest advocate for Emigratioi;!, went to Ceylon as Governor, and
died in 1841.— JVI.

104: THE CATHOLIC BAE.
Notwithstanding the censure which I have intimated of Mr.
Bellew's political tendencies and opinions, I repeat, and that
sincerely and unaffectedly, that I entirely acquit him of all
deliberate corruption. His private life gives an earnest of in
tegrity which I can not question. It is, in all his individual
relations in society, deserving of the most unqualified enco
mium. It would be a deviation from delicacy, even for the pur
poses of praise, to follow Mr. Bellew through the walks of
private life. Suffice it to say, that a more generous, amiable,
and tender-hearted man is not to be found in his profession,
and underneath a frozen and somewhat rugged surface, a
spring of deep and abundant goodness lives in his mind.
If in the hasty writing of the present sketch, I have allowed
grotesque images in connection with Mr. Bellew to pass across
my mind, I have " set down naught in malice ;" and if I have
ventured on a smile, that smile has not been sardonic. In
addition to the other qualities of Mr. Bellew for which he
merits high praise, I should not omit his sincere spirit of reli
gion. He is one of those few who unite with the creed of the
Pharisee the sensibilities of the Samaritan. Mr. Bellew is a
devout and unostentatious Eoman Catholic, deeply convinced
of the truth of his religion, and most rigorous in the practice
of its precepts. The only requisite which he wants to give
him a complete title to spiritual perfection, is one in which
some of his learned brethren are not deficient ; and it can not
be said that he " has given joy in heaven," upon the principle
on which so many barristers have the opportunity of adminis
tering to the angelic transports. One of the results of his
having been always equally moral and abstemious as at pres
ent is, that his dedication to religion attracts no notice. If
another barrister receives the sacrament, it is bruited through
town; and at all the Catholic parties, the ladies describe,
with a pious minuteness, the collected aspect, the combined
expression of penitence and humility, the clasped hands, and
the uplifted eyes of the counsellors ; while the devout Mr.
Bellew, who goes through the same sacred exercise, passes
without a comment.
In truth, I should not myself know that Mr. Bellew was a

ME. BELLEW. 105
man of such strong religious addictions, but for an incident
which put me upon the inquiry. Upon Ash-Wednesday, it is
the practice among pious Catholics to approach the altar ; and
while he repeats in a solemn tone, "Eemember, man, that thou
art dust," with the ashes which he carries in a vase the priest
impresses the foreheads of those who kneel before him with
the sign of the cross.
Some two or three years ago, I recollect the court was kept
waiting for Mr. Bellew, and the Master of the EoUs began to
manifest some unusual symptoms of impatience, when at last
Mr. Bellew entered, having just come from his devotions ; and
such was his haste from chapel, that he had omitted to efface
the " memento mori" from his brow. The countenance of this
gentleman is in itself sufficiently full of melancholy reminis
cences ; but when the Master of the Eolls, raising his eyes
from a notice which he was diligently perusing, looked him
full in the face, he gave an involuntary start. The intimation
of judicial astonishment directed the general attention to the
advocate ; and traced in broad sepulchral lines, formed of
ashes of ebony in the very centre of Mr. Bellew's forehead,
and surmounted by an ample and fully-powdered wig, the
black and appalling emblem. The burning cross upon the
forehead of the sorcerer, in " The Monk," could not have pro
duced a more awful effect. The Six Clerks stood astonished ;
the Eegistrar was petrified ; the whiskers of Mr. Daniel
M'Kay, the Irish Vice-Chancellor, stood on end ; and while
Mr. Driscoll explained the matter to Mr. Sergeant Lefroy, Sir
William M'Mahon with some abruptness of tone declared that
he would not go beyond the motion.*
* Sir William M'Mahon, appointed Master of the EoUs in Ireland, through
the influence of his brother. Sir John, Private Secretary to George IV. when
Regent, was anything but a lawyer. Mr. Shell's first wife was Miss O'HalZaron,
niece to Sir William. — M. 9*

MICHAEL O'LOGHLIN.
"Counsellor O'Loghlin, my motion is on, in the Eolls!"
" Oh, Counsellor, I'm ruined for the want of you in the Com
mon Pleas!" "For God's sake. Counsellor, step up for a
moment to Master Townsend's office !" " Counsellor, what will
I do without you in the King's Bench !" " Counsellor O'Logh
lin, Mr. O'Grady is carrying all before him in the Court of
Exchequer !" Such were the simultaneous exclamations, which,
upon entering the Hall of the Four Courts, at the beginning
of last term, I heard from a crowd of attorneys, who sur
rounded a little gentleman, attired in a wig and gown, and
were clamorously contending for his professional services,
which they had respectively retained, and to which, from the
strenuousness of their adjurations, they seemed to attach the
utmost value.
Mr. O'Loghlin stood in some suspense in the midst of this
riotous competition. While he was deliberating to which of
the earnest applicants for his attendance he should addict
himself, I had an opportunity to take notes of him. He had
at first view a very juvenile aspect. His figure was light —
his stature low, but his form compact, and symmetrically put
together. His complexion was fresh and healthy, and inti
mated a wise acquaintance with the morning sun, more than a
familiarity with the less salubrious glimmerings of the midnight
lamp. His hair was of sanded hue, like that of his Danish
forefathers, from whom his name, which in Gaelic signifies
Denmark, as well as his physiognomy, intimates his descent.
Although at first he appeared to have just passed the boun
daries of boyhood, yet upon a closer inspection all symptoms

BAE ASSIZE COSTUME. 107
of puerility disappeared. His head is large, and, from the
breadth and altitude of the forehead, denotes a more than
ordinary quantity of that valuable pulp, with the abundance
of which the intellectual power is said to be in measure. His
large eyes of deep blue, although not enlightend by the flash
ings of constitutional vivacity, carry a more professional ex
pression, and bespeak caution, sagacity, and slyness, while his
mouth exhibits a steadfast kindliness of nature, and a tran
quillity of temper, mixed with some love of ridicule, and,
although perfectly free from malevolence, a lurking tendency
to derision.* An enormous bag, pregnant with briefs, was
thrown over his shoulder. To this prodigious wallet of litiga
tion on his back, his person presented a curious contrast.
At the moment I surveyed him, he was surrounded by an
aggregate meeting of attorneys, each of whom claimed a title
paramount to " the Counsellor," and vehemently enforced their
respective rights to his exclusive appropriation. He seemed
to be at a loss to determine to which of these amiable expos-
tulators his predilections ought to be given. I thought that
he chiefly hesitated between Mr. Eichard Scott, the protector
* Mr. O'Loghlin's appearance was very distinguished. He had clear blue
eyes, which almost seemed to smile, if I may so express it. His light hair
curled closely and crisply on a head which was beautifully set upon his should
ers. His figure was compact and light, and, as much as any one whom I rec
ollect on the Munster Circuit, his neatness of attire evidenced that he cultivated
the graces. In those days, barristers wore neither wigs nor gowns in the
Assize Courts, on circuit, and thus every one could notice their '* human face
divine," without the professional accompaniments which so much change its
expression. Mr. O'Connell very frequently wore a green sporting jacket, in
the Assize Court — but his usual attire was the "customary suit of solemn
black." He was careful, and rather felicitous, in the tie of his white cravat,
but, when he warmed in a speech, he used to seize this article of his dress and
pull it on one side or the other, occasionally varying the action, by twitching
his black wig from right to left, and back again, as if to adjust it properly on
his head. — Mr. Wolfe, who subsequently became Chief Baron of the Excheq
uer, presented a marked contrast to O'Loghlin and O'Connell. He was care
less in his attire, wore his garments as if he never had consulted a mirror, and
had a habit of thrusting his long hands through his dark hair. He was tall in
stature, awkward and angular in his movements, and swarthy in complexion.
His voice, like that of most L*ish barristers, was clear and strong ; his utterance
good; and his occasional emphacising very effective with juries. — M.

108 MICHAEL o'lOGHLDT.
of the subject in Ennis, and Mr. Edward Hickman, the patron
of the crown, upon the Connaught circuit. Ned, a loyalist of
the brightest water, had hold of him by one shoulder, while
Dick, a patriot of the first magnitude, laid his grasp upon the
other. Between their rival attractions, Mr. O'Loghlin stood
with a look, which, so far from intimating that either of "the
two charmers" should be away, expressed regret at his inabil
ity io apportion himself between these fascinating disputants
for his favors. Mr. Scott, whose countenance was inflamed
with anxiety for the numerous clients, exhibited great vehe
mence and emotion. His meteoric hair stood up, his quiclt
and eager eye was on fire, the indentations upon his forehead
were filled with perspiration, and the whole of his strongly
Celtic visage was moved by that honorable earnestness, which
arises from a solicitude for the interest of those who intrust
their fortunes to his care. Ned Hickman, whose countenance
never relinquishes the expression of mixed finesse and drol
lery for which it is remarkable, excepting when it is laid down
for an air of profound reverence for the Attorney-General, was
amusingly opposed to Mr. Scott ; for Ned holds all emotion to
be vulgar, and, on account of its gentility, hath addicted him
self to self-control.
Mr. O'Loghlin, as I have intimated, seemed for some time
to waver between them, but at length Mr. Hickman, hy virtue
of a whisper, accompanied by a look of official sagacity (for
he is one of the crown solicitors), prevailed, and was carrying
Mr. O'Loghlin off in triumph, when a deep and rumbling sound
was heard to issue from the Court of Exchequer, and shortly
after, there was seen descending its steps, a form of prodigious
altitude and dimensions, in whose masses of corpulency, which
were piled up to an amazing height, I recognised no less emi
nent a person than Bumbo Green.* He came like an ambula-
* The individual knovm as " Bumbo'' Green, was well known, in the Irish
law-Courts, some five-and-twenty years ago. I saw him once — and to see was
to rememher. He was an attorney in good practice ; hailing, I believe, from
the west of Ireland. He knew the private affairs of three fourths of the estated
gentlemen in the counties of Galway and Clai-e, and no lawsuit of any impor
tance was entered ^nto, in that parf of the world, without Mr. Gieen being em-

BUMBO GEEEN. 109
tory hill. This enormous heap of animation approached to
put in his claim to Mr. O'Loghlin. Bumbo had an action,
which was to be tried before Chief Baron O'Grady against
the proprietor of the mail-coach to Ennis, for not having
provided a vehicle large enough to contain him. Mr. O'Logh
lin was to state his case. Bumbo had espied the capture
which Ned Hickman had made of his favorite counsel. It
was easy to perceive, from the expression of resolute sever
ity which sat upon his vast and angry visage, that he was de
termined not to acquiesce in this unwarrantable proceeding.
As he advanced, Ned Hickman stood appalled, and, conscious
of the futility of remonstrance, let loose the hold which he
had upon the Counsellor, while the latter, with that involun
tary and somewhat reluctant, but inevitable submission, which
is instinctively paid to great by little men, obeyed the nod
of his enormous employer, and, with the homage which the
Attorney-General for Lilliput might be supposed to entertain
for a solicitor from Brobdignag, passively yielded to the do-
ployed, on one side or the other. He was " a noticeable man" (to use Cole
ridge's phrase) — but chiefly on account of his immense size. The great Dan
iel Lambert died before my time, so that I can not personally compare him with
Bumbo Green ; — I suspect that in corporeal extent there could not have been
much difference. Mr. Green was the biggest man I ever saw. He was tall,
but, from his obesity, appeared below the ordinary stature. He had a smiling,
winning manner, and was liked, for his good temper and fun, by every one. To
see him attempt to sit down on the attorney's narrow bench was ludicrous in
the extreme. What is called " the small of the back" he was not possessor of,
and therefore to rest upon a narrow seat was as hopeless a task for him, aa it
would have been for a cherub — but from quite a different cause, "Bumbo"
Green having a redundancy of what cherubs are so deficient in, that it is evident
they never can sit for their portraits ! Bumbo Green floiftished in the ante-
railwoy era, and, on a journey, had to occupy and pay for two seats in the
stage-coach. On one occasion, he ordered his servant to take two seats for
him in the mail-coach from Ennis to Dublin. The man executed the command,
but. being a rather green hand, only a few days in Green's employment, com
mitted a trifling mistake. When Bumbo Green went to the coach-ofiice, he
found all the inside seats occupied, except one. His servant not knowing his
habit, had taken the seats — one outside, and the other within! — Bumbo
Green, like nearly all very stout men whom I have ever known, was fond of
dancing, and danced lightly too. He had a great many good qualities, and
the perpetual sunshine of good temper gleamed brightly over them all. — M.

110 MICHAEL o'lOQHLIN.
minion, and followed into the Exchequer the gigantic waddle
of Bumbo Green.
But a truce to merriment. The merits of Mr. O'Loghhn,
with whom I open this continuation of the Sketches of the
Catholic Bar, are of a character which demand a serious and
most respectful consideration. He is not of considerable
standing, and yet is in the receipt of an immense income,
which the most jealous of his competitors will not venture to
insinuate that he does not deserve. He is in the utmost
demand in the Hall of the Pour Courts, and is among the very
best of the commodities which are to be had in that staple of
the mind. He is admitted, upon all hands, to be an excellent
lawyer, and a master of the practice of the courts, which is of
far greater importance than the black and recondite erudition,
to which so many barristers exclusively devote so many years
of unavailing labor. The questions to which deep learning is
applicable are of frequent occurrence, while points connected
with the course and forms of legal proceedings arise every
day, and afford to a barrister, who has made them his study,
an opportunity of rendering himself greatly serviceable to his
clients. It is not by displays of research upon isolated occa
sions, that a valuable and money-making reputation is to be
established. " Practice," as it is technically called, is the
alchemy of the Bar. When it is once ascertained that a law
yer is master of it, he becomes the main resource of attorneys,
who depend upon him for their guidance through the mazes
of every intricate and complicated case. Mr. O'Loglilin has
Tidd at his fingers' ends, and is, besides, minutely acquainted
with that unwritten and traditional practice which governs
Irish justice ; and which, not having been committed to booliS,
is acquired by an unremitting attention to what is going on in
court.* * Mention has been made, in a previous note, of the rates of payment to the
judges, varying from eight hundred to one thousand pounds sterling a year
(the salaries of Irish Assistant-Barristers, Scottish Sheriffs, and English County
Court Judges), to ten thousand pounds sterling per annum, the amount fixed,
by Act of Parliament, as the Lord-Chancellor's oflicial income. Those who
axe accustomed to the present very small remuneration allowed to the occu
pants of judicial seats in the United States may consider the British payment

BRITISH SYSTEM OF JUDICATUEE, 111
It is not to be considered, from the praise bestowed upon
Mr. O'Loghlin in this most useful department of his profession,
that he does not possess other and very superior qualifications.
as exti'avagant — especially, as the offices (with the exception of the Chancel
lorship, which is political as well as legal) are held for life, or during good be
havior, which is the same. Added to this is the system of granting pensions
or retiring allowances to the judges — amounting to nearly two thirds of their
annual salaries — after fifteen years' service or in the event of earlier retire
ment from ill health. The British plan is based upon a very broad principle —
namely, that of tempting the very best lawyers to become judges, by malting it
worth their while to smTender the great incomes which they can earn at the
bar. In Great Britain and Ireland, a lawyer in full practice may earn from
three thousand to twelve thousand pounds sterling per annum — some have ob
tained more. To tempt any of these men, in the prime of life and the fullness
of profitable labor, to assume the ermine of the judge instead of the gown of
the barrister, there are three or four conjunct inducements. There is a peima-
nent station of honoi-able rank secured to him who becomes a judge. There is
a certain income, which, though far lower than he may have previously earned,
is obtained in comparative ease and repose. There is the removal of all doubt
as to the future — for a failure of health may assail the most active lawyer, and
speedily incapacitate him from future exertion, whereas, when a judge, he may
retire after a certain length of public service, provided for, during the residue
of hfe, by the bountiful gratitude of the public, which also provides for his fu
ture, in case of his health breaking up. On the bench, it is true, a lawyer does
not wholly enjoy ** otium cum dignitate," — for the judge, if he do his duty,
has no sinecure. But he is removed from the cares, the bustle, the struggles,
which are inseparable from the active life of a busy lawyer, and which form
the wear and tear of his mind, and he assumes a position of dignified and hon
orable labor, in the discharge of duties more important than those of an advo
cate, while they are of a different and less mind-oppressing order. A seat
upon the judicial bench, therefore, is the object of a British lawyer's honorable
ambition, for which he strives and competes — not by linking himself with any
political party, not by descending to canvassing or solicitation, but by knowl
edge of the laws, by industry, and by unimpeachable conduct. These judicial
appointments are virtually held for life, because the becoming entitled to a
pension after fifteen years' service, does not necessarily cause a judge to retire
at the expiration of that period. For the most part, we find the judges con
tinuing in office to the end. Of late years there have been only two retirements —
Erskine (son of the Chancellor) from ill health, and, more recently, Patteson,
from deafness. It is to the credit of George III. (who had the good sense,
amid much obtuseness, sometimes to take adWce) to commence his reign, in 1760^
by recommending Parliament to enact that the judges should not be removable, as
before, by the demise of the Sovereign cancelling their Commissions. It had
been the custom to issue new Commissions, in such cases, and then a judge
who had rendered himself obnoxious by independence, might be displaced, as

112 MICHAEL o'lOGHLLN-.
He is familiar with every branch of the law, and has hia
knowledge always at command. There are many whose
learning lies in their minds, like treasure in rusty coffers which
it is a toil to open, or masses of bullion in the vaults of the
Bank of Ireland, unfit for the purposes of exchange, and diffi
cult to be put into circulation. Mr. O'Loghlin bears his wealth
about him — he can immediately apply it — and carries Ms
faculties like coined money, " in rtumerato habet." He is not
a maker of sentences, and does not impress his phrases on the
memory of his hearers ; but he has what is far better than
what is vulgarly designated as eloquence. He is perfectly-
fluent, easy, and natural. His thoughts run in a smooth and
clear current, and his diction is their appropriate channel.
His perceptions are exceedingly quick, and his utterance is,
therefore, occasionally rapid ; but, although he speaks at times
with velocity, he never does so with precipitation. He is
extremely brief, and indulges in no useless amplification,
matter of routine, on the accession of a new sovereign. The result has been
that, since this independence has thus been established, we have had some re
markable instances where a judge has acted directly in opposition to the desires
and interests of the Government. For example. Lord Camden (when Chief
Justice of the Common Pleas, in 1763) decided that the Secretary of State hai
acted illegally, in arresting John Wilkes, on a general warrant — which ought
not to be issued except in the urgent case of high treason. So, a few years ago.
Lord Chief Justice Denman's denial, as a constitutional la"wyer {in re Stock-
dale V. Howard) that either House of Parliament had a right to publish libels,
as part of their proceedings, and to authorize their public sale. Li England, there
are few instances of a judge soiling his eiTnine by truckling to Power. I rec
ollect only two instances in my own time. Once, on the trial of Wilham Hone
for publishing parodies on parts of the Bible (his real offence being that he
had ridiculed the l^rince Regent) when Lord EUenborough actually desired the
jury to bring in a verdict of guilty, which they declined doing. The other,
during the trial of the Chartist rioters, when Lord Abinger, who tiied the case,
acted more like the prosecuting counsel than the judge, and roundly abused -
the prisoners on account of their politics. But in Leland, where there are
corrupt sherijBTs and packed juries, partisan judges have not been so rare.
That class did not cease with Lord Norbury : it still exists. In questions be
tween man and man, the bulk of the Irish judges have shown praiseworthy im
partiality. When it was the Government against the subject, the case some
times became different. The State Trials of 1844 and 1848, were conducted
in a manner which reminded us of 1798, and which would have almost driven
England into insurrection, had it occun-ed there. — M.

STANDISH o'GEADT. 113
There is not the smallest trace of affectation in anything
which he either does or says ; and it is surprising with what
little appearance of exertion het brings all the powers of hia
mind into play. His points are put with so much brevity, sim
plicity, and clearness, that he has, of necessity, become a great
favorite with the Judges, who give him a willing audience,
because he is sure to be pertinent and short ; and having said
all that is fitting to be said, and no more, has immediately
done. He is listened to the more readily, because he is appa
rently frank and artless ; but he merely puts on a show of
candor, for few possess more suppleness and craft.
No man adapts himself with more felicity to the humors and
the predispositions of the judges whom he addresses. Take,
for example, the Exchequer, where, both on the law and equity
sides of the court, he is in immense business. He appeals to
the powerful understanding, and sheer common-sense, of
Standish O'Grady,* in whom Rhadamanthus and Sancho
* Of Standish O'Grady, Chief-Baron of the Irish Exchequer, from 1803 to
1831, a notice has already been given (vol i., p. 135), but an anecdote can
scarcely be out of place here. He had a caustic wit, which was the more
keen because ever unobtrusive. The quiet manner in which the Chief-Baron
would insult a man, barbed the shaft. For example, a certain Mr. Burke
Bethell was at the Irish bar. He had ability, learning, eloquence, and indus
try, but was one of the men who appeared as if bom under an evil star, and
never could get on. It was stated, and believed, that he took business at any
rate — that ia, he would initial a brief marked two, five, or ten guineas, as if
he had received that amount (for without such proof of payment the taxing-
master would strike the item out of the attorney's bill of costs), and accept a
fourth of the nominal sum. This had reached the ears of O'Grady, who had
never known the want of money, and had a lofty idea of what is called " the
dignity of the profession." On one occasion, Burke Bethell had the luck, by
some accident, to receive a brief in some small case in which the Crown was
seeking penalties, under the Excise laws, from some fiscal delinquent. The
Court of Exchequer was the tribunal before which the case was to be tried,
Bethell, determined to cut a figure, had somewhat Adonized his attire, and
presented himself before the Chief-Baron, who, affecting not to recognise him
(wearing the unusual disguise of a clean shirt), surveyed him through his eye
glass, and, stooping down, asked who the gentleman was — with an air like that
which Brummell must have worn when he asked his companion, who stopped
to speak to George IV., "Who is your fat friend?" — Bethel, with an air of
great importance, thus commenced: " My Lord, on this occasion, I have the
honor to appear for the Crown.'' The Chief-Baron, intemipting him, in his

114 MICHAEL o'lOGHLIN.
Panza seem comhined. He hits the metaphysical propensi
ties of Baron Smith,* with a distinction, in which it would
blandest manner, and with his sweetest smile, interjected, " And, sometimes,
I believe, Mr. 'Bethell, for tke half-crown !" — On the subject of taking less
than the regulation fee or honorarium, I recollect an illustration or two. Fitz-
gibbon, father of Lord-Chancellor Clare, was a. lawyer in good practice, and
very fond of money. A client once brought him a brief and fee, that he might
personally apologize for the smallness of the latter. Fitzgibbon, muttering that
they sh.ould have intermediately reached him through the hands of an attorney,
took both — but looked most gloomily on the very limited amount of the fee. The
client sorrowfully admitted the cause for discontent, but added, that it was " all
he had in the world." — " Well, then," said Fitzgibbon, " as that's the case,
and you have no more, why, I must — take it." Which he did, no doubt. — To
match this, there is an anecdote of a certain Mr. Sergeant Cockle, of the Eng
lish bar, who was s.ccused of the grave offence of having taken a half fee, and
even of having accepted part of the money in the copper coin of the realm.
The charge duly came before the bar-mess for adjudication, and was fully sus
tained by evidence. In defence. Cockle briefly said : " It is- quite true that I
took half a guinea, where the fee should have been a guinea, and that it was
made up of a crown-piece, four shillings, two sixpences, and sixpence in cop
per." There was a great sensation on this confession of the charge. But
Cockle went on : " But, gentlemen, before I took the money, I ascertained it
was the last farthing the poor de^dl had, and I appeal to the honorable profes
sion, whether, under such circumstances, taking his last penny from him, I was
not quite justified, and have maintained the character of the bar?" It was
unanimously agreed that he had done all that a lawyer could do, in such a
case, and, honorably acquitting Cockle, the bar-mess inflicted the fine of a
basket of claret upon his accuser — the grand rule at all mess-trials being that
somebody must be mulcted in the generous juice of the grape! — How different
is this merely professional acquisitiveness from the generous feeling of the
sailor at Gibraltar, during the early and warlike years of the present centuiy.
Landing at "the Rock," with his comrades, all agreed, having plenty of
money, that it would be suitable and creditable for each to purchase a gold-
lacted cocked-hat. On reassembling at night, one man had a silver-laced hat
and was immediately denounced (with a promise of eaj-ly cobbing, when they
were on board) as a shabby fellow. His protest had all the energy of truth.
" Messmates," said he, " I scorn the charge. When I went to the man who
sells the gold-lacers, I found that he had not one left. So, I took this silver-
lacer, but paid him for it all as one as if Hwere gold." Of course, Jack was
honorably acquitted. — M.
* Sir William Cusack Smith, one of the Barons of the Exchequer in Ireland,
was a remarkable man. He was born in January, 1766, and died in August,
1836, in his seventy-first year. His father, Sir Michael Smith, was a great
lawyer, and finally became Master of the Rolls. The younger Smith studied
at Oxford, and there obtained the friendship of Edmuud Burke, at whose

SIE W. C. SMITH.

115

have puzzled St. Thomas Aquinas, without the aid of inspira
tion, to detect a difference : when every other argument has
failed with Baron M'Oleland, he tips him the wink, and point-
country-house, in a neighboring county, he passed all his leisure. In 1788, he
was called to the L-ish bar, and soon after became Doctor of Civil Law, to
qualify him for practice in the Ecclesiastical Courts. In 1795, Mr. William
Smith was made king's counsel, and entered Parliament in the same year. He
strenuously supported the Union, not only by his votes and speeches, but as a
pamphleteer. In 1800, he was made Solicitor-General, and in 1802, when his
father, who then was a puime Baron of the Exchequer, was raised to the higher
dignity of Master of the Eolls (the second equity Judge in Ireland, and not
removable as the Chancellor is, on a change of ministry), the younger Smith
succeeded him. In 1808, by his father's deajh,he succeeded to the baronetcy.
Sir William Smith, who had studied in the school of Burke, was what is called
" an old whig," and strongly advocated the justice and policy of Catholic
Emancipation. When this was granted, and the Repeal agitation followed.
Sir William Smith denounced it as impolitic, ungrateful, and illegal. Up to
that time, he had been in high favor with the Catholic leaders. But, in Feb-
i-uary, 1834, Mr. O'Connell moved that the House of Commons should appoint
a Committee to inquire into Sir William Smith's judicial conduct — mainly
complaining that, in his charges to grand-juries at the Assizes, he largely in
troduced political subjects, and that his habits were singularly at variance with
what ought to be the habits of a judge. It was stated by Mr. O'Connell (and
not denied) that Baron Smith commonly came into the Court about half-past
twelve at noon — that he-thus delayed the despatch of business — that, at Ar
magh, he had tried fourteen prisoners between six o'clock in the evening and
six in the morning — that one of these trials had actually commenced long
after midnight, and that his whole course was irregular. This prima-facie case
against Baron Smith was so strong, that (the whig ministry siding with Mr.
O'Connell) the motion for inquiry was earned by a majority of 167 to 74. A
week after, however, Mr. Peel and his party reopened the question, defended
Baron Smith, accused O'Connell of personal and vindictive motives, and pro
posed that the vote for inquiry he rescinded — which was done, by a majority
of 165 to 159. There is no doubt that Bai'on Smith's habits had latterly be
come very eccentric. As a judge he was impartial, and was humane even to
a fault. He had a horror of sentencing a culprit to death, and '* leant to mer
cy's side" on the trial of all capital offences. He was attached to letters, and
published several pamphlets, chiefly on politics, which are forgotten. He also
was author of an examination of the Hohenloe miracles. The only work by
which he is likely to be remembered as an author, is a singular production
called " Metaphysical Rambles." — His second son, Thomas Beny Cusack
Smith, Attorney-General under the Peel administration, conducted the O'Con
nell State Trials in 1844. He is now (1854) Master of the Eolls, as his grand
father was, and completes the singular instance of three out of one family having
auccessively worn the ermine. — M.

116 MICHAEL o'lOGHLIN.
ing with his thumb to the opposite attorney, suggests the
merits of the client, by a pantomimic reference to those of his
representative ; and with the same spirit of exquisite adapta
tion, plunges into the darkest abysses of black-letter erudition
with Baron Pennefather, and provokes his Lordship into a
citation from the Year-books (which excraciates the ears of Mr.
Furlong) in Tipperary French.
Mr. O'Loghlin is a native of Clare.* I had at first, and
before I had made more minute inquiries, conjectured, from
the omega in his name, that he must be lineally descended
from some of the ancient monarchs of Ireland, or be at least
collaterally connected with one of the Phenician dynasties.
Upon investigation, however, I discovered that " the big 0,"
the celebrated object of royal antipathy, was but a modern an
nexation ; and that, as I have already intimated, Mr. O'Loghlin
* The late Sir Michael O'Loghlin, it is scarcely too much to say, was one, of
the best judges that Ireland ever possessed. Able, acute, clear-headed, and
thoroughly just, he towered above his fellows. He was bom in October, 1789,
and though he had immense practice at the bar, was excluded by his religion
(he was a Catholic) from obtaining professional prefeiment as early as he de
served it. When the liberals came into power, after the granting of Emanci
pation, his talents obtained due recognition. He was made third Sergeant in
1831; second Sergeant in 1832; Sohcitor-General in 1834; Attorney-Gen
eral in 1835 ; and was made one of the Barons of the Exchequer in 1836^
being, I think, the first Catholic judge for one hundred and fifty years. On
the Bench he maintained and, if possible, increased the reputation he had won
at the bar. All parties and all creeds honored and respected the upright judge,
and the urbane and accomplished gentleman. There was a general feeling of
gratification, at the bar, and among the public, when, in 1837, he was raised to
the dignity of Master of the Rolls. In this capacity, he showed the great grasp
of his mind, for, though his bar-practice had chiefly been at common law, his
decisions in equitywere iiTefragable. In 1838, he was created a Baronet. Sir
Michael O'Loghlin died, September, 1842, aged fifty-three. The legal profes
sion of Ireland, who knew his value, raised a large sum for the pm-pose of erect
ing a monument to perpetuate their sense of his worth. It has been erected,
and consists of his statue, by M'Dowall (an Irish artist), which is appropriately
placed in the Hall of the Four Courts, Dublin — tlie only other statue in that
suitable situation being one of Justice, toward which it looks. — Sir Coleman
O'Loghlin, educated at London University, and called to the Lish bar in 1840,
is eldest son of the late Master of th« Eolls, and has already obtained a high
reputation. He was employed for the defence, in the State Trials of 1844 and
1848, and acquitted himself with great distinction. — M.

HIS DAIIISH ANCESTOE. 117
is of a Danish origin. It has often been observed that the
face of some remote progenitor reappears, after the lapse of
centuries, in his progeny ; and in walking through the halls
of ancient families, it is surprising sometimes to see, in the
little boy who whips his top beside you, a transcript of some
old warrior who frowns in armor on the mouldering canvass
above your head. There is preserved among the O'Lpghlins
a picture of their ancestor. He was a captain in the Danish
navy. The likeness of this able cruiser off the Irish coast to
the Counsellor is wonderful. He was a small, square, com
pact, and active little fellow, with great shrewdness and intel
ligence of expression. Domestic tradition has preserved some
traits of his character, which show that the mind, as well as
the face, can be preserved during ages of unimpaired trans
mission to the last. He was remarkable for his skill as a
navigator. Not a pilot in all Denmark worked a ship better.
He sent his light and quick-sailing galley through the most
intricate quicksands. His coolness and self-possession never
deserted him, and in the worst weather he was sure to get into
port. He generally kept close to the shore, and seldom sailed
upon desperate adventures. Remarkable for his talent in sur
prising the enemy, and stealing into their creeks and harbors,
he would unexpectedly assail them, and carry some rich prize
away. The descendant of this eminent cruiser works a cause
upon the same principles as his ancestor commanded a ship.
He holds the helm with a steady and skilful hand, and shifts
his sails with the nicest adaptation to every veering circum
stance that occurs in his course. Sometimes, indeed, he goes
very close to the wind, but never misses stays. I scarcely
ever saw him aground. He hits his adversary between wind
and water, and, when he lies most secure, sails into his anchor
age, boards, and cuts him out. It is not, therefore, to be won
dered at, that he is in as great practice in the Hall as his fore
father was upon the ocean, of whom it is recorded that he —
"Pursued o'er the high seas, his watery journey,
And merely practised as a sea-attorney."

FRANCIS BLACKBUENE.
I AM one of those whose political information is derived
from a perusal of " The "Weekly Register,"* through the ample
columns of which I disport myself upon Saturday evening,
and refresh myself with news much older than the beverage
with which I raise my spirit to the proper pitch of patriotism,
in order to wash down the eloquence of the Catholic Associa
tion. While others busy themselves in political anticipations,
and leave Time panting and toiling after them, I follow him
at a distance, and am contented if, upon the eve of the Sab
bath, I can collect enough of news to join in the discussions
of divers Popish counsellors, who assemble at half past one
o'clock to offer their devotions to " our Lady of Carmel," under
the auspices of Mr. L'Estrange, in the avenues of Clarendon-
street Chapel. In this sacred spot, just after benediction, one
may observe a certain convocation of politic lawyers with
huge prayer-books, bound in green morocco, under their arms.
After years of hebdomadal employment, the golden pages of
these holy volumes look as bright and fresh as when they
issued from the burnishing hands of the bookseller to May-
nooth College, and bear evidence of the care which the pious
* A newspaper of great influence in those days (1827) and for twenty years
after. It sided with Mr. O'Connell through the great struggle for Emancipa
tion, and the various efforts to obtain Eepeal, by means of a Parliamentary
enactment. When Mr. Duffy, in Tlie Nation, and Mr. John Mitchel, in The
United Irishman, advocated the bolder policy of force (argument having whol
ly failed) the Weekly Register, which was opposed to physical force, fell to the
ground. — M.

STEPHEN WOLFE AND WOLFE TONE. 119
votaries of Themis have taken not to profane them with too
frequent an application of their forensic fingers.
But this is parenthetically observed — I was going on to
say, that I merely prepared myself upon Saturday evening to
talk over the memory of Lord Wellesley with Mr. Farrel ; the
lamentable increase of crime upon the Munster circuit with
Mr. Wolfe ;* sacerdotal riots at Birr, and the validity of ex
communication with Mr. Cruise ; and the recollections of Wolfe
Tonet with Mr. Sheil. Such being my indifference to political
events, it not unfrequently happens that a great incident takes
place of which I do not hear until after its more immediate
effects upon the public mind have subsided — until after Mr.
O'Connell .has ordered a gown of Irish silk in the Liberty ;
Mr. Sergeant Lefroy has sought the consolations of religion
* Stephen Wolfe, a good lawyer and a liberal man, obtained neither notice
nor preferment from the anti-liberal Governments preceding the grant of Eman
cipation. In 1834, he was made third Sergeant : Solicitor-General in 1836,
Attorney-General in 1837, and Chief Baron of the Exchequer in 1838, on tho
death of Joy. Mr. Wolfe earnestly pressed the Government to appoint Mr.
Pennefather, as fittest for this post, and that he (Wolfe) should merely take
the puisne judgeship to be vacated by the promotion of Pennefather. But the
Government, whose politics differed very much from those of Mr. Pennefather,
declared that, under no circumstances, would they consider his claims ; where
upon Mr. Wolfe was appointed Chief Baron. He died, June, 1840. — M.
t Theobold Wolfe Tone, actual founder of the " Society of United Irishmen,".
was born in 1763 ; called to the bar in due course ; published a pamphlet
against British mis-government in 1790 ; and founded the above society in 1793.
From that time, " Per varies casus, per tot discrimina renim,"
Tone devoted himself to negotiations with the French Goverament to send men
ajid arms to win back " Ireland for the Irish." One such expedition, under
General Hoche, actually sailed, but a hurricane dispersed the fleet (consisting
of 17 sail of the line, 13 frigates, &c., with 14,000 soldiers, and 40,000 stand
of anus, besides artillery) before it could reach Bantry Bay, in the south of
Ireland, and the French Government declined sending another large expedi
tion. A petty armament was despatched, but beaten in a contest with an over
powering British fleet. Tone, who had fought bravely, was captured, tried by
a Court Martial, and sentenced to be hanged, which he evaded by suicide.
On the publication of Tone's autobiography, seven-and-twenty years after his
death, Sheil attempted " to point a [political] moral" from it, in one of his
Catholic Association Speeches, and was prosecuted for it by Mr. Plunket
then Attorney-General, hut never brought to trial. — M.

120 FRANCIS BLACKBITENB.
in the College chapel, and Mr. Sergeant Blackburne, the sub
ject of the present article, has bitten his nails to the roots for
having, in a moment of weakness, yielded to the solicitations
of Master Ellis, and allowed himself to be debauched so far
from his characteristic prudence as to sign the anti-Catholic
petition. I have mentioned this habit of mine in order to account
for my surprise at the strange appearance which was exhibited
not very long ago by the Hall of the Four Courts, when I was
struck by the sudden change of aspect and of manner which
several individuals had, in the course of a few hours, under
gone. Had I been acquainted with the news which had that
morning arrived in Dublin, I should not have wondered at the
transformation of the loyal portion of the bar; but I should
have been prepared for something extraordinary, for, in my
way to the Hall, I observed Mr. Secretary O'Crorman coming
down Mass-lane, and just as he turned the corner, Mr. Peter
Fitzgibbon Henchey (although Mr. Saurin and the Chancellor
happened at the moment to be passing !) gave a look of un
qualified recognition to the great plenipotentiary, which was
returned with an air of official affability which became so
eminent a functionary as Mr. O'Gorman.
The appearance of the latter gentleman, indeed, was suffi
cient to intimate that some momentous incident had taken
place. Upon occasions of great importance, Mr. O'Gorman puts
on a pair of white silk stockings, striped with black, such as
he observed to be worn by Lord Grey, when the Secretary
attended the Catholic Deputation.* The hosiery of the ultra-
patriot Earl struck the fancy of Mr. O'Gorman, and ever since,
upon great occasions, I have observed a fac-simile of his
Lordship's stockings distended upon the herculean symme
tries of the Irish orator ; and it must be owned that, being a
little spattered, and not much the better for the wear, they
are not a little emblematic of some part of Lord Grey's recent
* The descent upon England, of O'Connell, Sheil, and others foi-ming " The
Catholic Deputation,'' in the spring of 1825, is the subject of one of the follow
ing Sketches — certainly inferior to none in personal, as well as in political
interest. O'Gorman was secretajy to the Irish Catholics. — M.

PETER HENCHEY. 121
parliamentary conduct.* The conjecture which I had formed
from the Catholic Secretary's inferior habiliments was con
firmed by the cognizance which was taken of him by Mr.
Henchey, who, although his ancestors were deprived of their
estates in the county of Clare for their creed, is now a devout
adherent to the Chancellor's religion.
Mr. Henchey has three manners of recognition. If he walk
to com-t, and meet a junior counsel, who has held a brief with
him in the matter of Lord French a bankrupt, this gentleman,
who has inherited his prenomen from Lord Clare, gives a nod
of rather equivocal intimacy, in which the consciousness of his
own consequence is not altogether merged. If Mr. Henchey
has started on horseback from his splendid residence in Mer-
rion-square (which was once the town mansion of Lord Wick-
low), with a servant riding in gorgeous livery on a prancing
palfrey behind him, he throws a casual look upon his pedes
trian brethren, and following those canons of conduct, which
Malvolio lays down for himself upon his anticipated elevation,
" quenches his familiar smile with an austere regard of control."
But when Peter Fitzgibbon Henchey, one of his Majesty's
counsel at law, seats himself in his carriage, and rolls in all
the pomp of legal state along the rattling pavement of Nassau
street, he would he a bold man indeed, unless placed in imme
diate vicinage to the bench, who, by any intrusive salutation,
should attempt to disturb Peter's meditations on his own dig
nity, and seek to attract an eye, that, bordered with deeply-
pursed and half-closed lids, seems to be abstracted from all
external objects, and to have fixed itself in an inward con
templation of the importance of the eminent person in whose
solemn and mysterious visage it is awfully and profoundly set.
Recollecting the habits of Mr. Henchey, when I observed a
person hitherto so conspicuous for his loyalty, according to the
sense attached by Lord Manners to the word, even in the
presence of the Chancellor, leaning from the window of his
carriage, and suddenly recovering his natural faculty of tele
scopic vision, waving his hand to the Secretary of all the Cath-
* The late Lord Grey's determined and perssnal opposition to Canning, the
liberal Premier, in 1827. — M.
Vol. IL— 6

122 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
olics of Ireland (Mr. Henchey's nearest relatives inclusive), I
concluded that something marvellous must have happened.
I entered the Hall of the Four Courts, and found in the
looks of Barclay Scriven, who was sitting on the basement of
one of the pillars, a farther ground for surmise. A few days
before he was in the height of hilarity, when Master Ellis was
putting the anti-Catholic Petition into circulation, with the
assistance of a young gentleman, whose aunt ex-parte paterna
is the abbess of a convent. But now Barclay Scriven would
have furnished Cruikshank with a model for a burlesque of
Ugolino. He formed a strong contrast with Sergeant Goold,
whom I observed tripping it on a toe (which, although no longer
light, is still fantastic), with a renovation of his former alacrity,
around the Hall. He has been lately looking a little autum
nal, and has fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf. He is no
longer what he was, when he danced a pas-seul in the vagaries
of his youth at Fishamble street ; for although he retains his
gracefulness of attitude, he has sustained some diminution of
agility, and is no longer so well qualified to dispute the palm
with the " god of dance" upon the stage. But now his vivacity
seemed to be in a great measure restored. He looked as if Le
had been newly boiled in Medea's caldron, or had received
from Mr. Godwin a recipe for everlasting youth, and had
started back some twenty years to life again.* I was de-
* William Godwin's striking romance of " St. Leon*' (the interest of which
turns on the hero having obtained the elixir vita, which was to give perpetual
youth, and become master of the art of transmuting the meaner metals into gold),
will be recollected, by posterity, when his " Political Justice" is forgotten.
That work, the boldest piece of republicanism ever published in England, made
Godwin a marked man during the greater part of his life — long after he had
laid politics aside. He published " St. Leon," in 1799, and wrote several other
works of fiction. He died in April, 1836, aged eighty, and for the last five
years of his life, had a competency from a small sinecure place to which Lord
Grey's Eeform Administration had appointed him. — Maiy Wolstoncroft who
wrote the once famous " Vindication of the Rights of Women," was his wife
(she had previously lived with him, " on principle," as his mistress), and died
in giving birth to a daughter, who is known in the world of letters, as the wife
of Percy Bysshe Shelley, the poet (who was drowned, July, 1822), and was
herself a distinguished writer, as her " Fitmkenstein" shows: — she was bom
in 1797, and died in 1851.— M.

CHANGED ASPECTS. 123
lighted at the favorable appearance in this able and honest
man, who has been uniformly faithful to his country, and never
sacrificed his principles to his interests by the abandonment of
a cause in which he enlisted in the enthusiasm of his youth,
and has since adhered to with a constancy which no temptation
could ever disturb.
The next individual of note whom I observed was Mr. Ser
geant Lefroy. His eyes were fixed on the ground. This was
not unnatural, nor inconsistent with the angelic nature, for we
are told by Milton, that there was a spirit
" Whose looks and thoughts were always downward bent ;"
and who was occupied in admiring
*' The riches of Heaven's pavement, trodden gold."
The way to Heaven, if we may form a conjecture from the
lives of the devout, would appear to be composed of the same
materials as its pavement. I at first thought the Sergeant was
engaged in his usual celestial occupation ; but looking more
attentively, I observed that the gloom of worldly solicitude
was mixed with the consciousness of his being in the enjoy
ment of those rewards of piety which are promised, in the Old
Testament, to the servants of the Lord. I thought the pious
jurisconsult looked deeply melancholy ; perhaps I was mis
taken, and he was only revolving a point of casuistry for the
approaching college election, and preparing to demonstrate the
proposition which he afterward broached, that " no man at an
election is bound by a promise to a candidate, where the safety
of religion is at stake."
I had scarcely passed this eminent theologian, when I saw
Judge Moore* entering the Court of Common Pleas, and, ob
serving in that truly liberal and patriotic judge (who has
approved himself on the bench the foe to faction, consistent
with the principles which rendered him, in the worst times, the
dauntless friend of Ireland and of Henry Grattan), a joyous
and unaccustomed spirit, I concluded that something fortunate
for his country had taken place.
This impression was strengthened when I noticed Peter
" This is not the present Justice Eichard Moore, of the Queen's Bench.  M.

124 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
Burrowes, as he came in an opposite direction into the Hall,
with that aspect of heart-contenteduess which he is sure to mani
fest whenever the interests of Ireland are likely to be promoted.
Availing myself of some acquaintance with this veteran in the
cause of Whiggism, I advanced toward him, and inquired
whether some extraordinary news had not arrived. Mr. Bur
rowes is a remarkably absen* man, and not having heard my
question, stood in revery beside me, muttering an occasional
word or two, when I repeated my interrogatory.* He was
* Peter Bun-owes was bom in 1753 and died in 1843, having reached the age
of ninety, retaining his mental faculties to the close. In 1774, he entered
college, and won a scholarship, by sound and varied learning, in 1777. He
was a frequent speaker in the Historical Society, where his good sense and
sound information were highly estimated. He was of a sluggish temperament,
a heavy manner, and an ungainly person — but independence was to be achieved,
and he was assiduous and persevering. In 1785, he was called to the Irish bar,
and obtained his first honors in 1791, as counsel for Sir Lawrence Parsons
(afterward Earl of Eosse and father of the asti-onomer and present President of
the Eoyal Society of London), who had been a candidate for the representation
of the University and had been defeated, it was aven-ed, by Provost Hutchinson
unduly using his influence for his own son. Continuing to win reputation at the
bar, Burrowes did not receive a silk gown, owing to an impression on the part
of Govei-nment that he was friendly to the United Irishmen — an impression
which was not hastily removed. He finally obtained the honor and was one
of fourteen King's Counsel who signed a public protest, in December, 1799,
against the proposed Union. He sat in the last session of the Irish Parliament
In 1806, he received the lucrative appointment of Counsel to the Commission
ers of Customs, but had to resign it, when " All the Talents" quitted office.
His future course was one of hard labor, for his strong liberal opinions excluded
him from preferment at the hands of a Tory Ministry. In 1822, when Plunket
was made Attorney-General, he had Burrowes made Commissioner of the Insol
vent Debtors' Court, the large salary of which set him at ease for the rest of his
life. He eventually retired on a pension of sixteen hundred pounds sterling a
year. He was convivial and witty in private : earnest rather than eloquent at
the bar. Yet, some of his touches were good. In one case, where a man, who
had been flogged nearly to death in 1798, brought an action against the High
Sheriff who ordered the torture to be inflicted, when the juiy laughed at ajest
arising out of the cruel details, Burrowes indignandy exclaimed, " Ay, gentle
men, yOM may laugh, but my client was zorithing." — In the case of a young
lady who had suffered the worst wrong, in 1798, from a troop of brutal yeo
manry, Burrowes thus described the victim's entry into Waterford : " The
shades of evening fell, as this young creature, foot sore, and alone, entered with
a palpitating heart, that greatest of wildernesses — a great city.'' This is simple
and pathetic, as well as sublime in its simplicity-. — His absence of mind has

PETEE BUEEOWES. 125
awakened to a perception of the objects around him — a finely-
illuminated smile succeeded the broad gaze of vacancy with
which his eyes were at first fixed upon me, and he exclaimed,
"Why is not Grattan alive to-day!"
I was about to ask for some more explicit information, when,
fortunately, my friend Eccles Cuthbert came up, and having
an equal talent and propensity for narration, put me, with
great clearness and volubility, in possession of the news, and
informed me of the revolution in the Cabinet. " In short,''
said Mr. Cuthbert (a phrase of which this excellent Whig is
somewhat inappropriately fond). . . But before Mr. Cuthbert
had concluded a sentence which commenced with this intima
tion of brevity, Mr. Sergeant Blackburne walked by. The
moment I saw him, I interrupted Mr. Cuthbert, and assured
him that, " if I had entertained any skepticism with respect to
his intelligence, the aspect of the Sergeant would set all my
doubts at rest. " Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf.
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume."
The Sergeant was changed indeed. A little while before,
when the party under whose banners he had enlisted himself,
confidently anticipated the expulsion of Mr. Canning from the
Cabinet, Mr. Sergeant Blackburne exhibited as much alertness
as his grave and sedate nature permitted him to wear. His
been mentioned in a previous note. On a trial for murder, it was important
to the prisoner that the bullet found in the wound should be produced. It was
handed to Burrowes, who was occasionally taking a lozenge for a hoarseness.
.In the middle of his speech he paused, and suddenly exclaimed, "0 Lord, I
have swallowed the bullet by mistake.'' — He was found shaving opposite a wall
on which there was no mirror. "Sir," said the servant, who v-^as asked where
it was, ''my mistress had it removed six weeks ago!" — Plunket, once at a
festive entertainment, said, " Although I am about proposing the health of Peter
Burrowes, I am not inclined to conceal his faults, much less to describe him as
faultless. I will not dwell upon his minor peccadilloes, but shall only allude
to those by which he is continually offending. I know no man who has more
to answer for. He has spent his life in doing acts of kindness to evei-y human
being but himself. He has been prodigal of his time, of his trouble, of his
talents, of his money, to every human being who had or had not a claim, and
this to the serious neglect of his own interests. In short," added Plunket, " T
can only account for such an anomaly as this, by supposing him utterly destitute
of the instinct of selfishness." — M.

126 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
habitual composure, and the sort of " wilful stillness" which he
successfully entertains, had given way to an unaccustomed
spirit, and it was manifest that all his thoughts had been put
into an agreeable and pleasurable movement. He never wanted
bi'illiancy of eye ; but he had been used to subdue its expres
sion with a certain solemnity of aspect, which made him look
as if he were rehearsing the part of a judge, long before it
should come to his turn to perform the part. Thus he had
contrived to invest features, which, with the exception of his
eyes, are rather of an ordinary cast, with an important sober
ness and an aspect of not undignified meditation. His figure,
although below the common height, and of broad and qua
drangular dimensions, was stiffened into a kind of stunted
stateliness that gave him an imposing and somewhat authori
tative deportment. His walk and gesture were always in
measure with the march of his steady and uniform mind, which
was never betrayed into any unseemly precipitation. Such
was the ordinary man ; but he was now entirely altered. The
fire of his eye had gone out ; his walk was loose, slouched, and
irregular; restlessness and inquietude were apparent in the
whole frame and body of the man, and dejection, mingled with
the fretfulness of disappointment, spread over his countenance.
He seemed to have been reduced an inch in elevation, and to
have shrunk back from his artificial altitude into himself.
How changed from him who not long before, amidst the orgies of
the corporation, with his cup overflowing with claret, announced
himself, amidst the acclamations of inebriated aldermen, to
be the champion of the church and state ! Peter Burrowes,
who is full of the milk of human kindness, though it occasion
ally turns a little sour, fixed upon him his vast blue eyes,
which would fitly provide a brace of Cyclops with the orbs of
vision, and exclaimed, in his usual tone of rough and hoarse
benevolence, " I pity Blackburne !"
The Sergeant's mistake in signing the anti-Catholic Petition
might have excited the commiseration of Mr. Burrowes; but it
produced in the public, on account of its imprudence, more
surprise than sympathy. For my own part, I was not at all
astonished at the last step taken by Mr. Blackburne, because

JOHN PHILPOT CUREAN. 127
it was in perfect consistency with the first which he adopted
when he crossed the threshold of his profession.
He was called to the bar about the time that the celebrated
John Philpot Curran was made Master of the Rolls.* A
* When the Whigs came into oiHce, in 1806, on the death of Pitt, they ap
pointed John Philpot Curran to the bench, as Master of the EoUs, which ofiico
he held until 1814, when he resigned, on a pension of three thousand pounds
sterling, and resided from that time chiefly in London, where he died, in 1817,
aged sixty-seven. He was by no means a good equity judge, and considered
himself unfairly used by not being made Attorney-General, for which his famil
iarity with common law qualified him, and from which oifice (had his party
remained in power, which was not the case), the natural transition would have
been to the Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, or Exchequer, as Chief Judge.
Curran, bom in 1750, of poor parents in the County of Cork, was educated by
a benevolent clergyman, named Boyce (ever let us record the names of good-
doers) who strained his own limited means to send him to college and get him
to the bar. Fortuneless, and neai-ly friendless, Cun-an's early struggle, ere he
obtained law-practice, was bitter and painful. But his talents brought him on.
He entered Parliament, and won repute there. He was the advocate of nearly
all the persons charged with political offences, during the last eight years pre
ceding the Union (which he opposed), and his forensic eloquence, on these
occasions, excifed general admiration. His fearlessness as an advocate injured
him at the bar, for Lord-Chancellor Clare let it be seen that Mr. Curran and
his arguments had no favor with him, but gave him immense popularity. His
appeals to juries were powerful, beyond any conception which can be formed
from his published, but uncoiTected Speeches. In one case, where a clergy
man named Massey sued the Marquis of Headford (an Irish peer, nearly, but
not quite as wicked as his almost namesake, the English Marquis of Hertford)
for seduction of his wife, Curran — who had himself sustained a similar wrong
— pleaded so powerfully that the jury returned a verdict of Ten Thousand
Pounds sterling against the " noble" Adulterer. Curran's conversational wero
equal to his oratorical powers. His ban mots are widely known. Byron, who
only knew him in his later years, when the wine of hfe was on the lees, chron
icled his impressions in his private journal : " His imagination is beyond human,
and his humor (it is difficult to define what is wit) perfect. He has fifty faces,
and twice as many voices, when he mimics. I never met his equal." Again :
— "Curran,Cun-an's the manwhosti-uck memost. Such imagination ! There
never was anything like it." And, further on : "I have heard that man speak
more poetry than I have ever seen WTitten, though I saw him seldom, and but
occasionally." — Curran was small in statue, swarthy in complexion, and with
an Irish face, in which brilliant eyes redeemed everything. Phillips thus
sketches him, in 1805, as he appeared in the Hall of the Four Courts: "Mark
well that slight, short figure, with restiess gait, and swaying morion, and speak
ing gesture — he with the uplifted face, protnided upper-lip, and eyes like liv-

128 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
meeting of the bar was held for the purpose of presenting to
Mr. Curran a congratulatory address. When this assembly
had been convened, and after some of the most eminent persons
in the profession had delivered their opinions, a young gentle
man drew upon himself the general attention by coming delib
erately forward and opposing the motion to offer a tribute of
respect to a man whose genius had reflected so much honor
upon his country, and in whose speeches passages are to he
found which rival the masterpieces of eloquence in ancient lan
guage. It would not have been extraordinary if some hoary
pleader, actuated by political prejudices operating upon a
naturally narrow mind, which had undergone still greater con
traction in the inferior departments of the profession, had
opposed the tribute which it was intended to offer to the most
renowned advocate at the bar : but it excited no little surprise,
that a man who was not old enough to have personally min
gled in the ferocious contests of the civil war (during which
Mr. Curran had displayed an intrepidity which excited the
animosities of the successful party), and whose mind ought to
have been susceptible of the impressions which the eloquence
of Mr. Curran was so well calculated to produce upon the
young and sensitive, should have tendered himself as a volun
teer to the faction of which that great speaker was the antag
onist, and had earned his best honors in their hate.
The boldness of this proceeding was quite sufficient to at
tract notice. Every eye was fixed upon this juvenile and un
known dissentient from the great body of the bar. They saw
a formal and considerate-looking person, with a gravity far
beyond his years, advance with perfect coolness and self-pos
session ; and while they condemn the feelings by which he
ing diamonds." — Cun'an was fortunate in his biographers. The volume, by
Mr. O'Regan, published soon after his death, is chiefly anecdotal. His son,
William Henry Curran, wrote an excellent Memoir, in two volumes, long out
of print, and Charles Phillips' "Recollections of Curran" (re-cast and much
extended, in 1850), supplies a vast quantity of information about the man, his
times, and his contemporaries. — The address from the bar, on his appointment
as Master of the Bolls, mentioned by Mr. Sheil as opposed by Mr. Blackburne,
was very brief, and while it congratulated him on his promotion, complimented
him on the public grounds of his ability, independence, and integrity. — M.

STAETS INTO PUBLIC LIFE. 129
was instigated, they could not but perceive that he had quali
fications which were calculated to raise him to great eminence
in his profession. His enunciation was perfect ; every tone
was mellow and musical, and the cadences marking hisflowing
and unelaborated sentences, manifested the finest sense of
harmony, and a peculiarly rhythmical elocution. To those
external qualities was added an easy, round, graceful, and
unstudied gesture. Although he took the side upon which
many angry and vindictive passions were marshalled, yet he
betrayed none of the violence of political detestation. He was
throughout calm, sober, and subdued, and displayed that clear
ness in statement, and that faculty for methodical exposition,
which have since so much contributed to his great success in
his profession. It was painful to see Mr. Blackburne, exhibit;
ing at the same time so much ability, and so little sense of the
transcendent merits of the celebrated person whose laurels he
endeavored to blight. This step was the subject, I have heard,
of general comment. It was considered a decided intimation
of the course in politics which the young gentleman intended
to take, and his promotion under a Tory ministry was generally
anticipated. This precocious disposition to sustain the "as
cendency," might, to use Rosalind's illustration, be compared
to a medlar ; and it might have been not unhappily said to
Mr. Blackburne, by any lover of quotations, " you will be the
earliest fruit in the country : for you'll be rotten, ere you be
half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar."
Mr. Blackburne, however, did not fulfil the anticipations
which had been formed in his regard, notwithstanding this
unequivocal intimation of his political predilections. He got
rapidly into business, and wisely dedicated himself exclusively
to it. In a short time his first. exploit was forgotten; and as
the Irish Catholics are disposed to consider all those who are
not ostensibly against them, as with them, a notion crept
gradually abroad that Mr. Blackburne had leanings to the
liberal side. However, as he did not interfere, little was said
with respect to his political opinions, and his efficiency in his
profession caused both Catholic and Protestant solicitors to
make large contributions to his bag. To hiS admirable manner
C*

130 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
he owes much of his reputation. He has a finer voice than
any man at the bar, and has an ear so accurate, that thejiicest
analyzer of tones could not detect the least deviation from har
mony in his utterance, which is so perfect, that Doctor Spray,
of Christ church Cathedral [Dublin], who was master of the
science, used to declare that he could set his intonations to
music. The Sergeant himself is an excellent singer, and
passionately fond of that accomplishment in others. It creates
no little surprise among persons who are not aware of his
being possessed of this talent, when, hearing on a sudden a
peculiarly rich and sweet voice breathing in delightful tones
one of Moore's enchanting melodies, they turn round, and find
in the musician no other than the grave and solemn person,
whom they may have seen in the morning engaged in a con
troversy respecting the form of a notice with his Honor the
Master of the Rolls.
But it is not to manner that the merits of Mr. Blackbm-ne
are confined. Although I do not consider him as hy any
means so ingenious and astute as Mr. Pennefather, who unites
almost every qualification which can be desired in an advocate,
yet Mr. Blackburne is surpassed by no man at the bar in per
spicuity ; and while he renders subjects the most difficult and
entangled, perfectly simple and clear, he, at the same time,
avoids a defect sometimes incidental to the talent for exposi
tion, and is by no means lengthy and prolix. It would be
wonderful, if, with these faculties, he had not succeeded ; and
accordingly in a few years we find him in the foremost rank of
the Chancery Bar. I have mentioned that he observed a
systematic abstinence from all political discussion, in the in
terval which was employed in scaling the heights of his pro
fession ; but shortly after the arrival of Lord Wellesley as
Lord-Lieutenant, the extension of the Insurrection Act over
several of the southern counties, and the provision contained
in that statute, that a barrister, holding the rank of King's
counsel, should preside over the deliberations of the magis
trates, brought Mr. Blackburne again upon the political
stage. A most favorable opportunity of recommending him-
Belf to Government was presented by the refusal of Mr. Penne-

IN FAVOE WITH LOED WELLESLEY. 131
father to undertake the ungracious office of putting this curfew
law into execution ; and Mr. Blackburne verified the maxim,
that men are often more advantaged by the omissions of others,
than by any desert of their own. Mr. Pennefather was pressed
by Government, to proceed to one of the disturbed districts,
invested with Proconsular authority ; but that gentleman, not
liking the occupation, and being besides in bad health at the
time, declined the honor intended to be conferred upon him.
This refusal gave, I believe, some offence, and afforded an
excuse for not promoting Mr. Pennefather to the place assigned
to him by the unanimous suffrages of the profession.
All application was made to Mr. Blackburne to undertake
the duties which had been declined by Mr. Pennefather, and
the proposition was immediately acceded to. It were unjust
not to state that, in this new employment Mr. Blackburne
acquitted himself in such a way as to give satisfaction to the
Government and to the public ; for while he manifested a
proper zeal in quelling insubordination, he restrained the fero
cious passions of the exasperated gentry, and prevented this
iron implement of oligarchical dominion from being converted
into the m^ns of gratifying individual animosities, and pro
moting the sordid or tyrannical views of every needy or vin
dictive justice of the peace.
It is said that Mr. Blackburne, not only by his conduct, but
by^iis despatches to Lord Wellesley, raised himself not a lit
tle in the estimation of the Marquis, and the subsequent inter
course between them improved the impression which had been
previously made. Lord Wellesley is fond of the echo of his
own voice, which comes back to him in an important reverber
ation from the halls of the viceregal palace; and Mr. Black
burne, who, although a good speaker, has upon proper occa
sions a great talent for silence, and has a fine listening eye, in
the audiences which he gave Lord Wellesley, afforded that
distinguished nobleman the best proofs of attachment to his
sovereign, as evinced by his admiration of his representative.
Accordingly, when the office of Sergeant became vacant, while
the Bar pointed to Mr. Pennefather as best entitled to promo
tion, the Government, at, it is believed, the instance of Lord

132 FEAITCIS BLACKBITENB.
Wellesley, selected Mr. Blackburne. Although many regretted
that Mr. Pennefather, whose manners render him as popular
as his talents make him conspicuous, had been passed by, yet
the appointment of Mr. Blackburne gave satisfaction, as he is
indisputably a person of great merit, and li^s not yet com
pletely enrolled himself under the banners of a faction. Mr,
O'Connell, who carries about him the credulity of good-nature,
believed that the new Sergeant was favorable to Emancipation,
and announced his promotion as an auspicious circumstance ;
but those who remembered his first entrance upon the political
theatre, did not permit themselves to be so readily led astray.
An event soon after occurred, which showed pretty clearly
the bearings of Mr. Blackburne's inclinations. At a civic din
ner, he delivered a speech, in which he intimated his strong
Protestant predilections.* I do not, however, attribute this
display of unanticipated loyaltj' to any ebullition of feeling
upon the Sergeant's part. There can be no doubt that, previ
ous to the recent resignation of Mr. Peel and the Protestant
portion of the Cabinet, it was rumored, among the circles of
their supporters in Ireland, that Mr. Canning would be ejected
from power. This opinion gained ground every d^y, and grew
* The mild, temperate, and humane disposition of the Orange body may be
surmised from the charter-toast of the association, drunk with great solemnity
and joy, at civic feasts and on the first day of July (anniversary of the Battle
of the Boyne) every man kneeling as he repeated the words — said toJiave
been put together in 1689. The toast ran thus : " The glorious, pious, and
immortal memory of the great and good King William, who saved us from
pope and popery, hfass money and wooden shoes. He that won't drink this
toast, may the north wind blow him to the south, and a west wind blow him to
the east; may he have a dark night, a lee shore, a rank storm, and a leaky ves
sel to can-y him over the feriy to hell ; may the devil jump down his throat
with a red hot haiTOW, that every pin may tear out his inside ; may he be jam
med, rammed, and dammed into the great gun of Athlone, and fired off into the
kitchen of hell, where the pope is roasting on a spit and the devil pelting him
with cardinals !" The Catholics, and liberal Protestants who refused to drink
this toast, which was a standing dish, late in the evening, after the dinners of
Dublin and other Coi-porations, were incontinently declai-ed, from such recu
sancy, to be " bad subjects." Not only ignorant yeomani-y and country gentle
men, but nobles, prelates, and princes (for the Duke of Cumberland was Grand
Master of the Orangemen !) used to drink tliis toast, and swear to stand by tho
order — when they were too fax gone with drink to stand by anything else. — M.

HIS AN'n-CATHOLIO DISPLAY. 133
into a sort of certainty, when the anti-Catholic Petition was
presented for their signatures to the bar. The crisis of Ser
geant Blackburne's fate had arrived. There is generally in
the life of every man some one incident which is the hinge of
his destiny, and the Sergeant had touched that cardinal point.
By joining the Protestant party, he would have given him
self, in the event of their success in the bold experiment which
was then in contemplation, a strong title to their patronage,
and might ultimately have attained the highest honors which
it is in the power of Government to confer. He did not resist
the allurements which were held out to him ; and, giving way
to those original propensities which he had manifested in the
early period of his life, and acting partly upon calculation, in
an unluckly hour he attached his name to Master Ellis's pe
tition. But for this injudicious step, it is likely that Sergeant Black
burne would be Solicitor, and in a short time Attorney-Gen
eral, for Ireland. Upon the former office having become va
cant, his friends strongly insisted upon his pretensions ; but it
was urged, and with great truth, that to promote a decided and
avowed enemy to Emancipation, would be at variance with the
principles on which Mr. Canning's administration was built,
and would excite the indignation of the Catholic body, whose
passions it was so much the interest of the new Ministry to as
suage. The consequence was, that Mr. Sergeant Blackburne
was put aside, and Mr. Doherty, who, besides being the friend
and relative of the Prime Minister, is member for the city of
Kilkenny, was named by the Cabinet as successor to Mr. Joy.
Sergeant Blackburne is an eminent lawyer ;* and for calm
* The reputation of Mr. Sergeant Blackburne (and his strong political bias),
caused him to be made Chief Justice of the Queen's Bench, in which capacity
he presided over the trial of Mr. Smith O'Brien, for high treason, at Clonmel,
in 1848. In 1852, when the Eai'l of Derby formed an administration, he raised
Blackburne to tiie Chancellorship of Ireland, for which his former practice in
Equity, with the inclination of his mind and the particular range of his legal
acquirements, had well qualified him. As he was only nine months in that
office, he had little opportunity of " making his mark" upon the pubHc mind,
but the clearness of his intellect, the extent of his knowledge, together with
bis patience and good temper (requirements so essential in a judge), impressed

134: FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
discussion of questions of equity, exhibits in mind and manner
a most happy aptitude : but he never enjoyed any very con
siderable reputation as a public speaker, and, in addressing a
jury upon any topic of importance, as well as in the cross-
examination of witnesses, being very inferior to Mr. Doherty,
is by no means as well qualified as that gentleman to render the
Crown efficient service. If any state-prosecutions should he in
stituted, the accused would find in Mr. Doherty a far more dan
gerous assistant of the Attorney-General than the learned Ser
geant. Of the fitness of the latter of those two gentlemen for
this important office, I had a recent occasion to form an accu
rate estimate.
The last assizes of Clonmel [1828] presented a dreadful mis
cellany of the most barbarous crimes, most of which were of an
insurrectionary character, and required the exercise of the
strongest powers of the law. There were not less than three
hundred and eighty prisoners upon the calendar, from which
Judge Burton seemed to recoil in dismay. The Government
felt that it was necessary to do their utmost in order to repress
so alarming a growth of crime ; and with a view to the produc
tion of effect, and in order to give the administration of justice
more impressiveness, deemed it advisable to send Mr. Sergeant
Blackburne as special counsel for the Crown. He accordingly
arrived in Clonmel at the commencement of the Assizes ; and,
as he enjoyed no ordinary reputation, his mission had the de
sired effect, by drawing the general attention to the cases which
he conducted.
I felt a good deal of interest in some of the most important
of the prosecutions, and had a particular opportunity of observ
ing Mr. Blackburne. Upon the first day of his appearance he
availed himself of the right of the Crown to address the jury
(although that privilege is denied to the prisoner against whom
a speech is directed!), in order to present a picture of the
the legal profession, who naturally can form the truest opinion on such a
point, with respect and admiration. Mr. Blackburne was offered a peerage,
on his appointment, but declined it. When the Derby Ministry broke up, Mr.
Blackburne resigned office — taking the usual retiring pension of four thousand
pounds sterling a year. He was succeeded, in Deeember, 1852, by IVIr.
Moziere Bradj, whom he had displaced nine months previously. — M;

THE BUENING OF THE SHEAS. 135
general condition of the county. This was a noble opportu
nity for genuine eloquence. The best materials that can be
well conceived for a powerful harangue were gathered together.
The county was almost in a state of insurrection. Armed bands
of peasants traversed the country in the open day, and put to
death in the face of the sun whoever presumed to violate the
code of regulations which they had arbitrarily imposed, under
the authority of their invisible chieftain. Captain Rock. Du
ring the assizes themselves, two murders were committed, and
Mr. Lanigan, the land-agent of Lord Landaff, was fired at by
a party of forty men. The evils by which the county was ac
tually afflicted were in themselves sufficiently alarming, with
out looking into ulterior results ; but it was impossible not to
reflect upon the consequences which might ensue from the po
litical and moral state of a famished and ferocious population,
provided with anns, regularly organized, and acting upon sys
tematic principles of insubordination.
Independently of the general aspect of the county, which
opened such a wide field to a powerful speaker, the individual
case in which he addressed the jury was one of the most appal
ling that can be imagined, and attended with circumstances of
strangeness as well as of atrocity, which furnished an occasion
for the noblest oratory. Eighteen individuals had been burnt
alive in one of the dark and lonely glens of the mountain of
Slievenamaun, and the chief perpetrator of. that terrible deed
stood in all the ghastliness of guilt at the bar. The courthouse
was filled to suffocation, by persons of all classes ; and the vast
assembly, together with the leading aristocracy of that opulent
county, included in all likelihood some of the brother-incendia
ries of the villain who was brought at last to a tardy justice.
The deepest silence prevailed. The Judge himself, however,
from his judicial experience disastrously familiar with scenes
of this kind, seemed to be awe-struck by the consciousness of
the important consequences of the trial, and weighed down by
the magnitude of the crimes over the investigation of which
he was condemned to preside. While the oath was adminis
tered to each of the jury, every eye was riveted upon the indi
vidual who held the sacred volume in his hand. While he

136 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
pressed the word of God to his lips, his countenance was closely
watched, and it was easy to perceive upon the faces of the
twelve men, upon whose concurrent voices the life of their
fellow-creature was to depend, a strong solicitude,, amounting
almost to an expression of fear, at the hazard TYbich they were
about to incur by a conviction.
It was under these circumstances, and in the midst of a sol
emn hush, that Mr. Sergeant Blackburne rose to address the
court ; and I do him no wrong in stating that he did not raise
himself to the height of the great argument, nor did he even
make an approach to its elevation. He stated a case fraught
with incidents which were enough to make " the hair stir as
life were in't," with a coolness and sang-froid which would
have become the argument of a demurrer in the Rolls. He
brought to a court of criminal justice the language, the gesture,
and the intonations, to which he had been familiar in a court
of equity ; and, in my opinion, his having failed to produce a
deep impression arose from the very qualities which render
him an accomplished advocate in another branch of his pro
fession. It may perhaps be thought that, feeling the injustice done
to the prisoner in cases of felony, by permitting the counsel for
the Crown to inflame the passions of the jury, while the right
of speech is denied to the defendant's advocate, Mr. Sergeant
Blackburne benevolently abstained from eloquence, and from
motives of commiseration hid his brilliant faculties under a
merciful mediocrity and charitable commonplace. I am far
from thinking him capable of using any undue efforts to pro
cure the conviction of any individual of whose guilt he could
entertain the slightest doubt : he is a man of uuimpeached
probity and honor ; but, while I acquit him of any such san
guinary intent, it is due to frankness to add that he entered
into a general view of the state of the county, and, by exciting
the alarm of the jury, enforced the necessity of making an ex
ample, and of striking terror into the mind of the populace.
Perhaps this course was unavoidable ; for it is obvious that the
exercise of this privilege by the counsel for the Crown must
have the effect of heating the minds of the jurors, and of pre-

AS CEOWN-PEOSECUTOE. 137
paring them for the reception of the evidence, with that inevi
table bias against the prisoner, arisihg from the predisposition
to convict, which an appeal to their passions and an inculcation
of the necessity of repressing insurrection can not fail to create.
The humane and truly constitutional Judge [Burton] who pre
sided in the criminal court at the last assizes of Clonmel, and
who brought with him from England those habits of justice by
which he is distinguished, was sensible of the disadvantage
under which the prisoners labored, from the causes to which I
have referred, and appeared to me to allude to Mr. Blackburne's
speech, when he told the jury to discbarge their minds of all
considerations excepting the evidence immediately applicable
to the specific case before them. I do not think that Mr. Ser
geant Blackburne was much more successful in cross-examina
tion, to which he is not accustomed, than in his oratorical dis
plays ; and it was the general impression of the bar that the
Crown was indebted for the convictions which took place to
the superior skill of Mr, Doherty, in breaking down, as it is
technically called, the witnesses produced for the defendants.
In the course of the speeches delivered by Mr. Sergeant
Blackburne, in the discharge of his functions as counsel for the
Crown, after a general delineation of the character and habits
of the county of Tipperary, he proceeded to state what he con
ceived to be the causes of the miserable condition of that pop
ulous and fertile district, and to point out a remedy for the
evils by which it is oppressed. He stated that the frightful
crimes which had been committed had their origin in the spirit
of organization to which the peasantry were inveterately prone ;
and suggesting that the rigorous administration of justice was
adequate to the cure of every evil, called upon the jury to ap
ply, what his professional predilections, in conformity with the
proverb, naturally induced him to consider of sovereign efficacy
in removing all political distempers. There can be no doubt
that the tendency of the people to enter into illegal combina
tions is among the ingredients of national calamity, but it is
far more a consequence of remote influences than it is an essen
tial and leading cause. Mr. Sergeant Blackburne, in endeav
oring to discover the sources of that deep stream of bitterness,

138 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
the wide and almost periodical inundation of whose waters has
produced so rank a fertility of crime, must have made hut little
progress toward the fountain-head, and mistaken one of the
branches of the river for its source.
The most remarkable of the many important cases in which
Mr. Sergeant Blackburne acted as leading counsel for the
Crown, was the trial of William Gorman, to which I have
already referred, for " the burning of the Sheas." It is hy
that title that the terrible crime in which so many immolators
and so many victims were involved, is habitually designated;
and whenever a man expatiates upon the atrocities which dis
grace the country, and upon the conflagrations by which its
character is blackened, he refers, as to a leading illustration,
to " the burning of the Sheas."
I shall not readily forget the impression which was produced
upon me, on my first passing near the spot in which that dread
ful incident took place, when some of its details were narrated
by one of my fellow-travellers, in descending the narrow defile
of Glenbower. The remains of the habitation in which eigh
teen human beings were committed together to the flames, are
not visible from the road that winds at the foot of the mount
ain on which it was situated ; but the dark and gloomy glen
in which the deed was done, can be pierced by the eye, when
the mists that hang upon the lofty ridge do not envelop it;
and it is always with awe, which is not a little assisted hy the
loneliness and dreariness of the scene, that the traveller turns
his eyes toward that dismal valley, to which his attention is
directed by the habitual exclamation which I had never failed
to hear: "There is the place where the Sheas were burnt!"
I had an opportunity, in consequence of having attended two
trials connected with that frightful event, of learning the cir
cumstances by which it was attended ; and as in these sketches
I have not only endeavored to draw the portraits of individual
barristers, but also to describe the character of their occupa
tions as influenced by the nature of the cases in which they
are engaged, an occasional account of the most important and
striking of those cases falls within the scope of these essays,
and at all events may not be unattended with interest to the

THE BUENESTQ OF THE SHEAS. 139
reader. Passing, therefore, from the advocate to the prosecu
tions in which he was engaged, it will not be inappropriate that
I should proceed to detail the incidents which attended " the
burning of the Sheas.''
Upon the morning of the 20th of November, 1821, the re
mains of the house of Patrick Shea, a respectable farmer, who
held a considerable quantity of land at the foot of the mount
ain of Slievenamaun, exhibited an appalling spectacle. It had
been consumed by fire on the preceding night ; and a large
concourse of people (the intelligence of the conflagration hav
ing been rapidly diffused through the neighboring glens) as
sembled to look upon the ruins. Of the thatched roof which
had first received the fire, a few smoking rafters were all that
remained. The walls had given way, and stood gaping in
rents, through which, on approaching them, the eye caught a
glimpse of the dreadful effects of the devouring element. The
door was burnt to its hinges ; and, on arriving at the threshold,
as awful a scene offered itself to the spectator as is recorded in
the annals of terror. The bodies of sixteen human beings of
both sexes lay together in a mass of corpses. The door having
been closed when the flames broke out, the inhabitants precipi
tated themselves toward it, and in all likelihood mutually
counteracted their efforts to burst into the open air. The house
being a small one, every individual in it had an opportunity
of rushing toward the entrance, where they were gathered by
hope, and perished in despair. Here they lay piled upon each
other. Those who were uppermost were burnt to the bones,
while the wretches who were stretched beneath them were
partially consumed. One of the spectators, the uncle of a
young woman, Catherine Mullaly, who perished in the flames,
described the scene with a terrible particularity. With an
expression of horror which six years had not effaced, he said,
when examined as a witness, that the melted flesh ran from
the heap of carcasses in black streams along the floor.
But terrible as this sight must have been, there was another
still more appalling. The young woman, whom I have already
mentioned, Catherine Mullaly, resided in the house, and had
been not very long before married. She had advanced a con-

140 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
siderable period in pregnancy, and her child, which was born
in the flames in a premature labor, made the eighteenth victim.
I shall never forget the answer given by her uncle at the trial,
when he was asked how many had perished, he answered that
there were seventeen ; but that if the child that was dropped
(that was his phrase) in the fire was counted, the whole would
make eighteen. His unfortunate niece was delivered of her
offspring in the midst of the flames. She was not found among
the mass of carcasses at the door. There were sixteen wretches
assembled there, but, on advancing farther into the house, in a
corner of the room, lay the body of this unhappy young creature,
and the condition in which her child was discovered accounted
for her separation from the group of the dead. A tub of water
lay on the ground beside her. In it she had placed the infant of
which she had been just delivered while the fires were raging
about her, in the hope of preserving it ; and in preserving its
limbs she had succeeded, for the body was perfect with the
exception of the head, which was held above the water, and
which was burned away. Near this tub she was found, with
the skeleton of the arm with which she had held her child
hanging over it 1 It will be supposed that the whole of this
spectacle excited a feeling of dismay among the spectators;
but they were actuated by a variety of sentiments. Most of
them had learned caution and silence, which are among the
characteristics of the Irish peasantry, and, whatever were their
feelings, deemed it advisable to gaze on without a comment;
and there were not wanting individuals who, folding their arms,
and looking on the awful retribution, whispered sternly to each
other that " William Gorman was at last revenged !"
When information of this dreadful event reached Dublin, it
produced, as it was natural to expect, a very great sensation.
It was at first believed that " the burning of the Sheas" was
the result of that confederacy by which the peasantry had reg
ulated the taking of lands ; and that as the previous tenant,
one William Gorman, had been ejected by the Sheas, against
the will of the people, the bouse had been set on fire. But it
was asked, " What object could there be in destroying so many
individuals who were innocent of all crime, and were mere

THE BUENING OF THE SHEAS. 141
laborers and servants in the employment of the occupying
farmer?" This reflection, and a wish to rescue the national
character from the disgrace of so wanton an atrocity, gradually
induced a surmise that the fire had been accidental ; and this
conjecture was confirmed by the fact that, notwithstanding a
large reward had been offered for the discovery of the incen
diaries, no information was given to the Government. At
length, however, the fatal truth was disclosed, and it was ascer
tained that the conflagration was the result of a plot executed
by a considerable band of men, and that the whole population
in the neighborhood were well aware both of the project and
of its execution. The first clew to this abominable transaction
was given by a woman of the name of Mary Kelly.
This female had been a person of dissolute life, a,nd had mar
ried a servant, who, having relinquished his employment, some
time after his marriage, established, with the assistance of his
wife, what is commenly called a shebeen-house, in the vicinity
of the Sheas, at the foot of Slievenamaun. It was a kind of
mountain-brothel, or rather combined the exercise of a variety
of trades, which, in the subdivision of labor that takes place in
towns, are generally practised apart. Her husband stated that
he sold spirits without license ; provided board and lodging to
any passengers who thought it expedient to take up their
abode with him ; and that if a young man and woman had any
wish to be left alone In his hospitable and accommodating
mansion at a late hour at night, he and his wife did not think.
it genteel to meddle with their discourse. It will be thought
singular that, in so wild and desolate a district, in the midst
of solitary glens and moors, such conveniences should exist ;
but they are not unfrequent ; and one often meets these traces
of civilization in parts of the country which carry no other
evidence of refinement !
Mary Kelly appears to have superintended and conducted
this establishment; her husband merely giving it the sanction
of wedlock, and joining in the licentious conviviality which
took place under his auspices. But although his wife had, upon
her own admission, been of profligate habits, until time had
transmuted her, by the ordinary process, from a harlot to a

142 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
procuress, yet she does not appear to have been utterly devoid
of all virtuous sentiment ; and. Indeed, the scene which she
had witnessed was of such a nature as to awaken any remnant
of conscience, which often, in the midst of depravity, is found
to linger behind.
A peasant of the name of William Gorman, at whose trial
Sergeant Blackburne conducted the prosecution, had originally
held the house where the Sheas resided. He was their under
tenant, and held the lowest place in those numerous gradations
of tenure into which almost every field is divided and subdi
vided ; /for the Sheas were not middle-men in the strict sense
of the word, but stood themselves at a great distance from the
head-proprietor of the estate, although they were the immedi
ate landlords of Gorman. The more remote the head-landlord,
the heavier the weight with which oppression falls on the oc
cupier of the soil. The owner of the fee presses his lessee ;
the latter comes down upon the tenant, who derives from him,
who, in his turn, crushes his own immediate serf; and if, which
often happens In this long concatenation of vassalage, there
are many other interventions of estate, the occupier of the soil
is In proportion made to suffer ; and Is, to use the expression
of Lord Clare, " ground to powder," in this complicated system
of exaction ! William Gorman was dealt with most severely.
He was distrained, sued in the superior courts, processed hy
civil bill — In short, the whole machinery of the law was put
into action against him. Driven from his home, deprived of
his few fields, without covert or shelter, he made an appeal to
the league of peasants with whom he was associated; and, as
the Sheas had infringed upon their statutes, it was determined
that they should die, and that an exemplary and appalling
vengeance should be taken of them.
I saw William Gorman at the bar of the court in which he
was condemned. He heard the whole detail of the atrocities
of which he had been the primary agent. He was evidently
most solicitous for the preservation of life ; yet the expression
pf anxiety which disturbed his ghastly features occasionally
gave way to the exulting consciousness of his revenge ; and,
as he heard the narration of his own delinquencies, so far from

THE BUENING OF THE SHUAS. 143
intimating contrition olf remorse, a savage joy flashed over his
face j his eyes were lighted up with a fire as lurid as that which
he had kindled in the habitation of his enemies ; his hand,
which had previously quivered, and manifested, in the irregu
lar movement of his fingers, the workings of deep anxiety, be
came, for a moment, clinched ; and when the groans of his
victims were described-, his white teeth, which were unusually
prominent, were bared to the gums ; and* though he had
drained the cup of vengeance to the dregs, still he seemed to
smack his lips, and to lick the blood with which his injuries
had been redressed I
This man had the vindictive feelings of a savage ; but, while
his barbarities admit of no sort of extenuation, they still were
not without a motive. His co-partners In villany, however,
'who arranged and conducted the enterprise, had no instigation
of personal vengeance, toward the oppressors of William Gor
man. At their head was a bold and sagacious i-uffianj whose
name was Maher. It was determined that their plot should
be carried into execution on Monday, the 20th of November.
On the preceding Saturday, Maher went to Mary Kelly's
house, and retired to a recess in It, where he employed himself
in melting lead, and fusing it into balls. He was supposed to
be a paramour of Mary Kelly (though she strenuously denied
it), and she was certainly familiar with him. She had heard
(Indeed, it was known through the whole of that wild vicinage)
that it was intended to inflict summary justice upon the Sheas;
and being well aware that Maher was likely to dip his hands
in any bloody business which was to go on, and observing his
occupation, which he did not seek to hide from her, she taxed
him with his " slaughterous thoughts," and having some good
instincts left, begged him not to take life away. Maher an
swered with equivocation.
During this colloquy, Catherine Mullaly, a cousin of Mary
Kelly, came into the house. Maher was well acquainted with
her, and had the rude gallantry which Is common among the
Irish peasantry. She resided as a servant with the Sheas.
Maher believed that there Avere arms in the Sheas' possession,
and knew that there were a number of persons living in the

144 FEAIfCIS BLACKBUENE.
house, with a view to their defence. The extent, however, of
their means of self-protection the murderers had not ascer
tained, and it was important to learn the Tact, in order that
they might adapt to circumstances their mode of attack. It
is probable, that, if there had been no weapons in the house,
the conspirators would have burst open the door, dragged the
Sheas out, and put them to death, and would have spared the
more unoffending victims : but having discovered that there
were firearms in abundance, they considered the burning of
the house as a measure of self-defence. Independently of the
impression which a massacre upon a large scale would he likely
to produce. Maher, therefore, sought to ascertain the state of
defence from Catherine Mullaly, and entered into conversation
with her in the tone of mixed joke and gibe, of which the
lower orders, who delight In repartee, are exceedingly fond.
The young woman was pleased with his attentions, and In the
innocence of her heart, not having any suspicion of his intent,
gradually disclosed to him that there was a quantity of arms
in the house. Maher, on her departure, put on her cloak, and
bade her farewell in the tone of friendship. Mary Kelly, who
knew him well, and guessed at his object, the moment Cathe
rine Mullaly was gone (for she did not dare to speak in her
presence) implored Maher, whatever he might intend, not to
harm Catherine Mullaly.
She extorted a promise from him to that effect, on which
she relied for the moment, and they separated ; Maher with
his balls, and Mary Kelly with the undertaking for the life of
Catherine Mullaly, in which she placed so mistaken a confi
dence. After some reflection, however, her alarm for the
safety of her relative, to whom she was much attached, revived,
and during the next day her suspicions were increased hy the
notes of prepaj:ation which she observed between Maher and
his confederates. However, she did not venture to speak ; for,
to use her own phrase, " a word would have been as much as
her life was worth ;" still a terrible inquietude preyed upon
her, and, as If actuated by some mysterious impulse, upon
Monday night, when her husband, to whom she never com
municated her apprehensions, was asleep, she silently rose

THE BUENING OF THE SHEAS. 145
from bed, and having huddled on his coat, left her, cabin,
though it was near midnight, and advanced cautiously and
slowly along the hedges, until she made her way to near
Maher's house. She stopped, and heard the voices of men
engaged in discussion, which lasted some time ; at length the
door opened — she hid herself behind some brambles, and
bending down, in order to avoid detection, which would hav^
been death, she marked the murderers as they came forth.
They issued from Maher's house in arms, and walked in a sort
of array, advancing in file. Eight of them she knew ; and, as
she alleged, distinctly recognised them by their voices and
looks. One of them carried two pieces of turf, lighted at the
extremities, and kept the fire alive with his breath.
They passed her without observation, and proceeded upon
their dreadful destination. Trembling and terror-struck, but
still impelled to pursue them, she followed on from hedge to
hedge, until they got beyond her; and perceiving that they
proceeded toward the house of the Sheas, she stopped at a
spot from which the house was visible, and by which the
murderers, after executing their diabolical purpose, afterward
returned. Here she remained in terrible anticipation, and her
conjecture was speedily verified. A fire suddenly appeai-ed
in the roof of Shea's house ; the wind high. It rose rapidly into
a flame, and the whole was speedily in a blaze. It cast round
the rocky glen a frightful splendor, and furnished, in its exten
sive diffusion of light, the means of beholding all that took
place close to the burning cottage, in which shrieks and cries
for mercy began to be heard. The murderers had secured the
door ; and having prevented all possibility of escape, stood In
groups about the house, and gazed on the progress of the con
flagration. So far from being moved to pity, they answered
the invocations of their victims with yells of ferocious laughter.
They set up a war-whoop of exultation, and, in token of tri
umph, discharged their guns and blunderbusses to celebrate
their achievement. There was an occasional pause in their
shouts : nothing then was heard but the crackling of the
flames, that shed far and wide their desolate illumination ; and
the spectatress of this dreadful scene, though at some distance
Vol. il— 7

146 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
from It, declared that, in the temporary abatement of the wind,
and the cessation of Its gusts, she could at Intervals hear the
deep groans of the dying, and the gulps of agony with which
their tortures were concluding.
But the fiends by whom these infernal fires were kindled,
soon reiterated their cries of exultation, and discharged their
guns again. The report of their firearms, which was taken
up by the echoes of the mountain, produced a result which
they had not anticipated. On the opposite side of a bill which
adjoined the house, there resided a man of the name of Philip
Dillon, who was a friend of the Sheas. Hearing the discharge
of guns, and suspecting what had taken place, he summoned
as many as he could gather together, and proceeded at their
head across the hill, in order, If possible, to save the Sheas.
They advanced toward the house, but arrived too late : neither
had they courage to attack the murderers, who at once drew
up before the flames to meet them. Philip Dillon, indeed,
defied them to come on, but they declined his challenge, and
waited his attack, which, as his numbers were inferior, he
thought it prudent not to make. Both parties stood looking
at each other, and In the meanwhile the house continued to
blaze. The groans were heard for a little time, until they
grew fainter and fainter; and at length all was silent.
Although the ai'rival of Philip Dillon did not contribute to
save any of the sufferers, still it was the means of convicting
William Gorman, by affording a corroboration to the testimony
of Mary Kelly. John Butler, a boy, who was in the employ
ment of Philip Dillon, and accompanied him to the burning
house, was the brother of one of the servants of the Sheas.
Notwithstanding he could not give any assistance to his
brother, yet his anxiety to discover the murderers Induced him
to approach nearer than his companions to the flames, when,
by the fire which they had kindled, Butler had an opportunity
of identifying William Gorman, against whom he gave his
testimony, and thus sustained the evidence of Mary Kelly.
All was now over — the roof had fallen In, and the ruins of
the cottage were become a sepulchre. Gorman and Maher,
with their associates, left the scene of their atrocities, and

THE BUENING OF THE SHEAS. 147
returned by the same path by which they had arrived. An
other eye, however, besides that of God, was upon them.
They passed a second time near the place where Mary Kelly
lay concealed ; again she cowered at their approach ; and, as
they went by, had a second opportunity of identifying them.
Here a circumstance took place which is, perhaps, more utterly
detestable than any other which I have yet recorded. The
conversation of the murderers turned upon the doings of the
night, and William Gorman amused the party by mimicking
the groans of the dying, and mocking the agonies which he
had inflicted.
The morning now began to break, and Mary Kelly, haggard,
affrighted, and laden with the dreadful knowledge of what
had taken place, returned to her home. Well aware, however,
of the consequences of any disclosure, she did not utter a syl
lable to her husband, or to her son, upon the subject; and
although examined next day before a magistrate, who con
jectured, from the ill-fame of her house, that she must have
had some cognizance of what had taken place, she declared
herself to be innocent of all knowledge. John Butler, too,
who had witnessed the death of his brother, immediately pro
ceeded to the house of his mother, Alicia Butler, an old woman,
who was produced as a witness for the crown ; he awoke her
from sleep, and told her that her son had been burned alive.
Her maternal feelings burst into an exclamation of horror
upon first hearing this dreadful Intelligence ; but, instead of
immediately proceeding to a magistrate, she enjoined her son
not to speak on the subject, lest she herself, and all her family,
should suffer the same fate.
For sixteen months, no information whatever was communi
cated to Government. Mary Kelly was still silent, and did not
dare to reproach Maher with the murder of Catherine Mullaly,
for whose life she had made a stipulation. She did not even
venture to look in the face of the murderer, although, when he
visited at her house, which he continued to do, she could not
help shuddering at his presence. Still the deeds which she
had seen were inlaid and burned in dreadful colors In her
mind. The recollection of the frightful spectacle never left

148 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
her. She became almost incapable of sleep ; and, haunted hy
images of horror, used in the dead of night to rise from her
bed, and wander over the lonely glen in which she had seen
such sights ; and although one would have supposed that she
would have instinctively fled from the spot, she felt herself
drawn by a kind of attraction to the ruins of Shea's habitation,
where she was accustomed to remain till the morning broke,
and then return wild and wan to her home. She stated, when
examined in private previous to the trial in which she gave
her evidence, that she was pursued by the spectre of her unfor
tunate kinswoman, and that whenever she lay down in her
bed, she thought of the " burning," and felt as if Catherine
Mullaly was lying beside her, holding her child, " as black, as
a coal, in her arms." At length her conscience got the better
of her apprehensions, and in confession she revealed her secret
to a priest, who prevailed upon her to give information, which,
after a struggle, she communicated to Captain Despard, a jus
tice of the peace for the county of Tipperary.
'Such were the incidents which accompanied the perpetration
of a crime, than which it is difficult to imagine one more enor
mous. To do the people justice, immediately after the con
viction and execution of William Gorman, they appeared to
feel the greatest horror at his guilt ; and of that sentiment a
Roman Catholic assembly, held during the assizes, afforded a
strong proof. The assizes had gathered an immense con
course of the lower orders from all parts of the country, and
Mr. Sheil, conceiving that a favorable opportunity had pre
sented itself for giving a salutary admonition to the people,
and believing that his advice would be fully as likely to pro
duce an impression as the Protestant declamation of Mr. Ser
geant Blackburne, used liis influence In procuring a public
meeting to be summoned. A vast multitude thronged to the
place of assembly ; and I am bestowing no sort of encomium
upon Mr. Shell, when I say that his speech produced a great
deal of effect upon the peasantiy, for the bare statement of the
facts which appeared in evidence In the course of the assizes,
would have been sufficient to awaken deep emotions wherever
the instincts of humanity were not utterly extinguished. As

THE BUENING OF THE SHEAS. 149
Mr. Sheil's address contained a summary of the principal cases
in which Sergeant Blackburne was engaged, and he dwelt
especially upon that of Matthew Hogan, which was attended
by many afflicting circumstances, I shall close this article by a
citation from the concluding passages of that gentleman's
speech. " The recollection," he continued, " of what I have
seen and heard during the present assizes, is enough to freeze
the blood. Well might Judge Burton, who is a good and
tender-hearted man — well might he say, with tears in his
eyes, that he had not in the course of his judicial experience
beheld so frig.htful a mass of enormities as the calendar pre
sented. How deep a stain have those misdeeds left upon the
character of your county, and what efforts should not be made
by every man of ordinary humanity, to arrest the progress of
villany, which is rolling in a torrent of blood, and bearing
down all the restraints of law, morality, and religion, before it.
Look, for example, at the murder of the Sheas, and tell me If
there be anything in the records of horror by which that
accursed deed has been excelled ! The unborn child, the little
innocent who had never lifted its innocent hands, or breathed
the air of heaven — the little child in Its mother's womb ... I
do not wonder that the tears which flow down the cheeks of
many a rude face about me should bear attestation to your
horror of that detestable atrocity. But I am wrong In saying
that the child who perished In the flames was not born. Its
mother was delivered in the midst of the flames. Merciful
God 1 Born in fire ! Sent into the world in the midst of a
furnace! transferred from the womb to. the flames that raged
round the agonies of an expiring mother ! There are other
mothers who hear me. This vast assembly contains women,
doomed by the primeval malediction to the groans of child
birth, which can not be suppressed on the bed of down, into
which the rack of maternal agony still finds its way. But say,
you who know it best, you who are of the same sex as Cathe
rine Mullaly, what must have been the throes with which she
brought forth her unfortunate offspring, and felt her infant
consumed by the fires with which she was surrounded I We
can but lift up our hands to the God of justice, and ask him

150 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
why has he invested ns with the same forms as the demons
who perpetrated that unexampled murder ! And why did they
commit it? — by virtue of a horrible league by which they
were associated together, not only against their enemy, but
against human nature and the God who made it ! — for they
were bound together — thej- were sworn in the name of their
Creator, and they invoked Heaven to sanctify a deed which
they were confederated to perpetrate by a sacrament of Hell.
Although accompanied by circumstances of inferior terror, the
recent assassination of Barry belongs to the same class of guilt.
A body of men at the close of day enter a peaceful habitation,
on the Sabbath, and regardless of the cry of a frantic woman,
who, grasping one of the murderers, desired him ' to think of
God, and of the blessed night, and to spare the father of her
eight children!' dragged him forth, and when he, 'offered to
give up the ground tilled and untilled if they gave him his
life,' answered him with a yell of ferocious irony, and telling
him ' he should have ground enough,' plunged their bayonets
into his heart ! An awful spectacle was presented on the
trial of the wretched men who were convicted of the assassina
tion. At one extremity of the bar there stood a boy, with a
blooming face and with down on his cheek, and at the other
an old man in the close of life, with a wild haggard look, a
deeply-furrowed countenance, and a head covered with hoary
and dishevelled hair. In describing the frightful scene it is
consoling to find that you share with me in the unqualified
detestation which I have expressed ; and, indeed, I am con
vinced that It is unnecessary to address to you any observation
on the subject.
" But, my good friends, I must call your attention to another
trial, I mean that of the Hogans, which affords a melancholy
lesson. That trial was connected with the Insane practice
which exists among you, of avenging the accidental affronts
offered to individuals, by enlisting whole clans In tire quarrel
and waging an actual war, which is carried on by sanguinary
battles. I am very far from saying that the deaths which
occur In these barbarous feuds are to be compared with the
guilt of preconcerted assassination, but that they are accom

ME. SHEIL'S SPEECH TO THE PEOPLE.

151

panied with deep criminality there can be no question : the
system, too, which produces them, is as much marked with
absurdity as it is deserving of condemnation. In this county,
if a man chances to receive a blow, instead of going to a magis
trate to swear informations, he lodges a complaint with his
clan, which enters into a compact to avenge the insult — a
reaction is produced, and an equally extensive confederacy is
formed on the other side. All this results from an Indisposition
to resort to the law for protection ; for among you it Is a point
of honor to avoid magistrates, and to reject all the legitimate
means provided for your redress. The battle fought between
the Hickeys and the Hogans, In which not less than five hun
dred men were engaged, presents in a strong light the conse
quences of this most strange and preposterous system. Some
of the Hickey party were slain in the field, and four of the
Hogans were tried for their murder : — they were found guilty
of manslaughter — three of them are married and have families,
and from their wives and children are condemned to separate
for ever. In my mind, these unhappy men have been doomed
to a fate still more disastrous than those who have perished on
the scaffold. In the calamity which has befallen Matthew
Hogan every man In court felt a sympathy. With the excep
tion of his having made himself a party in the cause of his
clan, he has always conducted himself with propriety. His
landlord felt for him not only an interest, but a strong regard,
and exerted himself to the utmost In his behalf. He never
took a part In deeds of nocturnal villany. He does not bear
the dagger and the torch ; honest, industrious, and of a mild
and kindly nature, he enjoyed the good will of every man who
was acquainted with him. His circumstances in the world
were not only comparatively good, but, when taken in refer
ence to his condition In society, were almost opulent ; and he
rather resembled an English yeoman than an Irish peasant.
His appearance at the bar was in a high degree moving and
impressive — tall, athletic, and even noble In his stature, with
a face finely formed, and wholly free from any ferocit}'- of
expression, he attracted every eye, and excited, even among
his prosecutors, a feeling of commiseration. He formed a

152 FEANCIS BLACKBUENE.
remarkable contrast with the ordinary class of culprits who are
arraigned in our public tribunals. So far from having guilt
and depravity stamped with want upon him, the prevailing
character of bis countenance was indication of gentleness and
humanity. This man was convicted of manslaughter; and
when he heard the sentence of transportation for life, all color
fled from bis cheek, his lips became dry and ashy, his hand
shook, and his eyes were the more painful to look at from their
being incapable of tears. Most of you consider transportation
a light evil, and so It Is, to those whs have no ties to fasten
them to their country. I can well imagine that a deportation
from this island, which, for most of its inhabitants is a misera
ble one, is to many a change greatly for the better. Although
it is to a certain extent, painful to be torn from the place with
which our first recollections are associated, and the Irish
people have strong local attachments, and are fond of the place
of their birth, and of their fathers' graves — yet the fine sky,
the genial climate, and the deep and abundant soil of New
Holland, afford many compensations. But there can be none
for Matthew Hogan : — He is in the prime of life, was a pros
perous farmer: — he has a young and amiable wife, who has
borne him children ; but, alas !
" ' Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold.
Nor friends, nor sacred home.'
He must leave his country for ever — he must part from all
that he loves, and from all by whom he is beloved, and his
heart will burst in the separation. On Monday next he will
see his family for the last time. What a victim do you behold,
in that unfortunate man, of the spirit of turbulence which rages
among you ! Matthew Hogan will feel his misfortune with
more deep intensity, because he is naturally a sensitive and
susceptible man. He was proved to have saved the life of one
of his antagonists In the very hottest fury of the combat, from
motives of generous commiseration. One of his own kindred,
in speaking to me of his fate, said, 'he would feel it the more,
because' (to use the poor man's vernacular pronunciation) 'he
was so tinder' This unhappy sensibility will produce a more^
painful laceration of the heart than others would experience,

ME. SHEIL'S SPEECH. 153
when he' bids his infants and their mother farewell for ever.
The prison of this town will present on Monday next a very
afflicting spectacle. Before he ascends the vehicle which is to
convey him for transportation, to Cork, he will be allowed to
take leave of his family. His wife will cling with a breaking
heart to his bosom ; and while her arms are folded round his
neck, while she sobs In the agony of a virtuous anguish on his
breast, his children, who used to climb his knees in playful emu
lation for his caresses, his little orphans, for they are doomed
to orphanage in their father's lifetime  I will not go on
with this distressing picture : your own emotions (for there are
many fathers and husbands here) will complete it. But the
sufferings of poor Hogan will not end at the threshold of bis
prison : — He will be conveyed in a vessel, freighted with
affliction, across the ocean, and will be set on the lonely and
distant land, from which he will return no more. Others, who
will have accompanied him, will soon forget their country, and
devote themselves to those useful and active pursuits for which
the colony affords a field, and which will render them happier,
by making them better men. But the thoughts of home will
still press upon the mind of Matthew Hogan, and adhere with
a deadly tenacity to his heart. He will mope about. In the
vacant heedlessness of deep and settled sorrow ; he will have
no incentive to exertion, for he will have -bidden farewell to
hope. The instruments of labor will hang idly in his hands ;
he will go through his task without a consciousness of what he
is doing : or If he thinks at all while he turns up the earth,
he will think of the little garden beside his native cottage,
which it was more a delight than a toil to till. Thus his
day will go by, and at its close his only consolation will be
to stand on the seashore, and fixing his eyes in that direction
in which he will have been taught that his country lies — if
not in the language, he will at least exclaim in the sentiments
which have been so simply and so pathetically expressed in
the Song of Exile : —
" ' Erin, my country ! though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ;
But, aJas ! in a far foreign land I awaken.
And sigh for the friends that can meet me no more.'"

CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOR BARRISTER.*
My father was agent to an extensive absentee property in
the south of Ireland. He was a Protestant, and respectably
connected. It was even understood in the country that a kind
of Irish relationship existed between him and the distant pro
prietor whose rents he collected. Of this, however, I have
some doubts ; for, generally speaking, our aristocracy are
extremely averse to trusting their money in the hands of a
poor relation. Besides this, I was more than once Invited to
dine with a leading member of the family when I was at the
Temple, which would hardly have been the case, had he sus
pected on my part any dormant claim of kindred. Being an
eldest son, I was destined from my birth for the Bar. This,
about thirty years ago, was almost a matter of course with our
secondary gentry. Among such persons it was, at that time,
an object of great ambition to have " a young counsellor" in
the family. In itself It was a respectable thing — for, who
could tell what the " young counsellor" might not one day be?
Then it kept off vexatious claims, and produced a general
* This amusing sketch, of which it may be said, " Se non i vera, h ben tro-
vato,'' was prefaced with the following notice : — " Mr. Editor : The author
of the Irish Bar Sketches seems of late to have suspended his labors: and
should he resume them, I question whether it forms any part of his plan to take
up the subject upon which I now propose to trouble the public. I trust, there
fore, that he will not consider it an act of undue interference with his exclusive
rights, if, pending his present silence, I solicit the attention of your readers to
the following sketch of myself. It may be vanity on my part, but it does strike
my humble judgment that the details I am about to submit, and I shall be can
did even against myself, have an interest of their own, which will excuse their
publication." — The suspension spoken of here was imaginary, as one of the
Sketches had appeared in May, and this vras published in July, 1825. — M.

THE DEEAMS OF VOUTH. 165
interested civility in the neighborhood, under the expectation
that, whenever any little point of law might arise, the young
counsellor's opinion might be had for nothing. Times have
somewhat changed in this respect. Yet, to this day, the young
counsellor who passes the law-vacations among his country
friends finds (at least I have found it so) that the old feeling
of reverence for the name is not yet extinct, and that his dicta
upon the law of trespass and distress for rent are generally
deferred to in his own county, unless when It happens to be
the assizes'-time.
I passed through my school and college studies with great
eclat. At the latter place, particularly toward the close of the
course, I dedicated myself to all sorts of composition. I was
also a constant speaker in the Historical Society, where I dis
covered, with no slight satisfaction, that popular eloquence
was decidedly my forte. In the cultivation of this noble art,
I adhered to no settled plan. Sometimes, in imitation of the
ancients, I composed my address with great care, and deliv
ered It from memory : at others, I trusted for words (for I am
naturally fluent) to the occasion ; but, whether my speech was
extemporaneous or prepared, I always spoke on the side of
freedom. At this period, and for the two or three years that
followed, my mind was filled with almost Inconceivable enthu
siasm for my future profession. I was about to enter It (I can
call my own conscience to witness) from no sordid motives.
As to money matters, I was independent ; for my father, who
was now no more, had left me a profit-rent of three hundred
pounds a-year.
No ; but I had formed to my youthful fancy an Idea of the
honors and duties of an advocate's career, founded upon the
purest models of ancient and modern times. I pictured to
myself the glorious occasions it would present of redressing
private wrongs, of exposing and confounding the artful machi
nations of injustice ; and should the political condition of my
country require it, ¦&.% in all probability it would, of emulating
the illustrious men whose eloquence and courage had so often
shielded the Intended victim against the unconstitutional ag
gressions of the state. It was with these views, and not from

156 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOE BAEEISTEE.
a love of " paltry gold," that I was ambitious to assume the
robe. With the confidence of youth, and of a temperament
not prone to despair, I felt an instinctive conviction that I was
not assuming a task above my strength; but, notwithstanding
my reliance upon my natural powers, I was indefatigable in
aiding them, by exercise and study, against the occasions that
were to render me famous in my generation. Deferring for
the present (I was now at the Temple)* a regular course of
legal reading, I applied myself with great ardor to the acquire
ment of general knowledge. To enlarge my views, I went
through the standard works on the theory of government and
legislation. To familiarize my understanding with subtle dis
quisitions, I plunged into metaphj'sics ; for, as Ben Jonson
somewhere says, " he that can not contract the sight of his
mind, as well as dilate and disperse It, wanteth a great fac
ulty;" and, lest an exclusive adherence to such pursuits should
have the effect of damping my popular sympathies, I duly
relieved them by the most celebrated productions of Imagina
tion in prose and verse. Oratory was, of course, not neglected.
I plied at Cicero and Demosthenes. I devoured every trea
tise on the art of rhetoric that fell In my way. When alone
in my lodgings, I declaimed to myself so often and so loudly,
that my landlady and her daughters, who sometimes listened
through the keyhole, suspected, as I afterward discovered, that
I had lost my wits ; but, as I paid my bills regularly and
appeared tolerably rational in other matters, they thought it
most prudent to connive at my extravagances. During the
last winter of my stay at the Temple, I took an active part, as
Gale Jones,t to his cost, sometimes found, in the debates of
* Irish barristers are compelled to " study'' at the Temple, or some other Inn
of Court, in London, besides eating half their term dinners at the Queen's
Inn, Dublin. If an Irish banister wish to practise at the English bar, he must
first pass two years at a London Inn of Court, and pay the hea%'y stamp-duties
and other charges — though he had already paid them in Dublin. — M.
t John Gale Jones was a notoriety — in his way. He was bom in 1771, and
before he had reached the years of manhood, had declared himself enamored
of French republican principles. Thence, until his death, in 1838, he was one
of the boldest, ablest, and most constant speakers at political meetings in Lon
don. In 1810, he had arraigned tho House of Commons at the bar of public

GALE JONES,

157

the British Forum, which had just been opened for the final
settlement of all disputed points in politics and morals.
Such were the views and qualifications with which I came
to the Irish Bar. It may appear somewhat singular, but so It
was, that previous to the day of my call, I was never Inside
an Irish Court of Justice. When at the Temple, I had occa
sionally attended the proceedings at Westminster Hall, where
a common topic of remark among my fellow-students was tho
vast superiority of our Bar In grace of manner and classical
propriety of diction. I had, therefore, no sooner received the
congratulations of my friends on my admission, than I turned
into one of the Courts to enjoy a first specimen of the forensic
oratory of which I had heard so much. A young barrister of
about twelve years' standing was on his legs, and vehemently
appealing to the court in the following words : "Your Lord
ships perceive that we stand here as our grandmother's admin
istratrix de bonis non; and really, my Lords, it does humbly
strike me that it would be a monstrous thing to say that a
party can now come in, in the very teeth of an Act of Parlia
ment, and actually turn us round under color of hanging us up
on the foot of a contract made behind our backs." The Court
opinion, and the Commons, instigated by the Government, committed him to
Newgate, where he remained until the prorogation of Parliament, when he was
liberated as a matter of course — neither branch of the Legislature having the
power of awarding imprisonment beyond its own Session. He was tried, at
Warwick, for sedition, and acquitted through the efforts of his counsel. Sir
Samuel Romilly. I heard him speak in 1830, when he was sixty years' old, and
even then, though his health was rather broken, he displayed much of the bold
ness, fluency, and eloquence, which had distinguished him in his prime. At the
time I heard him, and until his death, his chief means of subsistence were what
he obtained by speaking for payment in the political and other discussions
which took place at the Rotunda in Blackfriars Road, the Cicemian Coffee
House, and other debating societies in London. I remember that on one occa
sion, when I had ventured to present some matters of fact and figures of arith
metic against his beautiful flowers of rhetoric. Gale Jones condescended to ad
mit that he had been mistaken, and to invite me from the body of the Rotunda,
where I sat, as a spectator, to the platform where he and the other orators
were placed. On my declining the invitation (thinking that the " post of
honor is the private station," in such cases), he requested that I would drink
his health, and sent round his own particular " pewter pot," out of which he
begged that I would make the friendly libation ! — M

158 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOE BAEEISTEE.
admitted that the force of the observation was unanswerable,
and granted his motion with costs. On inquiry, I found that
the counsel was among the most rising men of the Junior Bar.
For the first three or four years, lit(;le worth recording
occurred. I continued my former studies, read, but without
much care, a few elementary law-books, picked up a stray ,
scrap of technical learning in the courts and the hall, and was
now and then employed by the young attorneys from my own
county as conducting counsel in a motion of course. At the
outset I was rather mortified at the scantiness of my business,
for I had calculated upon starting into immediate notice; hut
being easy in my circumstances, and finding so many others
equally unemployed, I ceased to be Impatient. With regard
to my fame, however. It was otherwise. I had brought a fair
stock of general reputation for ability and acquirement to the
bar ; but, having done nothing to increase it, I perceived, or
fancied I perceived, that the estimation I had been held In
was rapidly subsiding. This I could not endure ; and as no
widows or orphans seemed disposed to claim my protection, I
determined upon giving the public a first proof of my powers
as the advocate of a still nobler cause. An aggregate meeting
of the Catholics of Ireland was announced, and I prepared a
speech to be delivered on their behalf. I communicated my
design to no one, not even to O'Connell, who bad often urged
me to declare myself; but, on the appointed day, I attended
at the place of meeting. Clarendon-street Chapel.
The spectacle was Imposing. Upon a platform erected
before the altar, stood O'Connell and his staff. The chair
which they surrounded had just been taken by the venerable
Lord Fingal, whose presence alone would have conferred dig
nity upon any assembly. The galleries were thronged with
Catholic beauties, looking so softly patriotic, that even Lord
Liverpool would have forgiven in them the- sin of a divided
allegiance. The floor of the chapel was filled almost to suffo
cation with a miscellaneous jjopulace, breathing from their
looks a deep sense of rights withheld, and standing on tiptoe
and with ears erect to catch the sounds of comfort or hope
which their leaders had to administer. Finding it impracti-

AN AGGEEGATE MEETING.

159

cable to force my way toward the chair, I was obliged to
ascend and occupy a place in the gallery. I must confess
that I was not sorry for the disappointment ; for, in the first
feeling of awe which the scene inspired, I found that my
oratorical courage, which, like natural courage, " comes and
goes," was rapidly " oozing out;"— but, as the business and
the passions of the day proceeded — as the fire of national
emotion lighted every eye, and exploded in simultaneous
volleys of applause — all my apprehensions for myself were
forgotten. Every fresh round of huzzas that rent the roof
rekindled my ambition. I became Impatient to be fanned, for
my own sake, by the beautiful white handkerchiefs that waved
around me, and stirred my blood like the visionary flags of
the fabled Houris inviting the Mohammedan warrior to danger
and to glory.
O'Connell, who was speaking, spied me In the gallery. He
perceived at once that I bad a weight of oratory pressing upon
my mind, and good-naturedly resolved to quicken the delivery.
Without naming me, he made an appeal to me under the char
acter of " a liberal and enlightened young Protestant," which
I well understood. This was conclusive, and he had no sooner
sat down than I was on wj legs. The sensation my unex
pected appearance created was immense. I had scarcely said
" My Lord, I rise," when I was stopped short by cheers that
lasted for some minutes. It was really delicious music, and
was repeated at the close of almost every sentence of my
speech. I shall not dwell upon the speech itself, as most of
my readers must remember it, for it appeared the next day in
the Dublin Journals (the best report was in the Freeman),
and was copied into all the London opposition papers except
the Times. It is enough to say that the effect was, on the
whole, tremendous.
As soon as I had concluded, a special messenger was de
spatched to conduct me to the platform. On my arrival there,
I was covered with praises and congratulations. O'Connell
was the warmest in the expression of his admiration : yet I
thought I could read In his eyes that there predominated over
that feeling the secret triumph of the partisan, at having con-

160 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOE BAEEISTEE.
tributed to bring over a young deserter from the enemy's
camp. However, he took care that I should not go without
my reward. He moved a special resolution of thanks "to his
illustrious young friend," whom be described as " one of those
rare and felicitous combinations of human excellence, in which
the spirit of a Washington is embodied with the genius of a
Grattan." These were his very words, but my modesty was
in no way pained at them, for I believed every syllable to he
literally true.
I went home in a glorious intoxication of spirits. My suc
cess had surpassed my most sanguine expectations. I had
now established a character for public speaking, which, inde
pendently of the general fame that would ensue, must inevi
tably lead to my retainer in every important case where the
passions were to be moved, and, whenever the Whigs should
come in, to a seat in the British Senate.
After a restless night — in which however, when I did sleep,
I contrived to dream, at one time that I was at the head of my
profession, at another that I was on the opposition-side of the
House of Commons redressing Irish grievances — I sallied
forth to the Courts to enjoy the impression which my display
of the day before must have made there. On my way, my
ears were regaled by the cries of the news-hawkers, announ
cing that the morning papers contained " Young Counsellor
 's grand and elegant speech." — "This," thought I, "is
genuine fame," and I pushed on with a quickened pace toward
the Hall.
On my entrance, the first person that caught my eye was
my friend and fellow-student, Dick  . We had been inti
mate at College, and inseparable at the Temple. Our tastes
and tempers had been alike, and our political opinions the
same, except that he sometimes went far beyond mo in his
abstract enthusiasm for the rights of man. I was surprised —
for our eyes met — that he did not rush to tender me his greet
ings. However, I went up to him, and held out ray hand in
the usual cordial way. He took it, but in a very unusual way.
The friendly pressure was no longer there. His countenance,

EESULTS OF AN OEATION.

161

which heretofore had glowed with warmth at my approach,
was still and chilling. He made no allusion to my speech,
but looking round as if fearful of being observed, and mutter
ing something about Its being " Equity-day in the Exchequer,"
moved away. This was a modification of " genuine fame" for
which I was quite unprepared. In my present elevation of
spirits, however, I was rather perplexed than offended at the
occurrence. I was willing to suspect that my friend must
have found himself suddenly indisposed, or that. In spite of his
better feelings, an access of Involuntary envy might have
overpowered him ; or perhaps, poor fellow, some painful sub
ject of a private nature might be pressing upon bis mind, so
as to cause this strange revolution in his manner. At the
time I never adverted to the rumor that there was shortly to
be a vacancy for a commissionersblp of bankrupts, nor had I
been aware that bis name as a candidate stood first on the
Chancellor's list. He was appointed to the place a few days
after, and the mystery of his coldness was explained.
Yet, I must do him the justice to say that he had no sooner
attained his object than he showed symptoms of remorse for
having shaken me off. He praised my speech, in a confiden
tial way, to a mutual friend, and I forgave him — for one gets
tired of being indignant — and to this day we converse with
our old familiarity upon all subjects except the abstract rights
of man. In the course of the morning I received many sim
ilar manifestations of homage to my genius from others of my
Protestant colleagues. The young, who up to that time had
sought my society, now brushed by me as If there was infec
tion in my touch. The seniors, some of whom had occasion
ally condescended to take my arm in the Hall, and treat me
to prosing details of their adventures at the Temple, held
themselves suddenly aloof, and, if our glances encountered,
petrified me with looks of established order. In whatever
direction I cast my eyes, I met signs of anger or estrange
ment, or, what was still less welcome, of pure commiseration.
Such were the first fruits of my " grand and elegant speech,"
which had combined (O'Connell, may Heaven forgive you!^
" the spirit of a Washington with the genius of a Grattan."

162 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOE BAEEISTEE.
I must, however, in fairness state that I was not utterly "left
alone In my glory." The Catholics certainly crowded round
me and extolled me to the skies. One eulogized my simile of
the eagle ; another swore that the Corporation would never
recover from the last hit I gave them ; a third that my fortune
at the Bar was made. I was invited to all their dinner-par
ties, and as far as " lots" of white soup and Spanish flummery
went, had unquestionably no cause to complain. The attor
neys. In both public and private, were loudest in their admira
tion of my rare qualifications for success In my profession;
but, though they took every occasion, for weeks and months
after, to recur to the splendor of my eloquence, it still some
how happened that not one of them sent me a guinea.
I was beginning to charge the whole body with ingratitude,
when I was agreeably Induced to change my opinion, at least
for a while. One of the most rising among them was an old
schoolfellow of mine, named Shanahan. He might have been
of Infinite service to me, but he had never employed me, even
in the most trivial matter. We were still, however, on terms
of, to me rather unpleasant familiarity ; for he affected in his
language and manners a certain waggish slang, from which my
classical sensibilities revolted. One day, as I was going my
usual rounds in the Hall, Shanahan, who held a bundle of
briefs under his arm, came up and drew me aside toward one
of the recesses. "Ned, my boy," said he, for that was his
customary style of addressing me, " I just want to tell you that
I have a sporting record now at Issue, and which I'm to bring
down to  for trial at the next assizes. It's an action
against a magistrate, and a Bible-distributer into the bargain,
for the seduction of a farmer's daughter. You are to be in
it — I have taken care of that — and I just want to know if
you'd like to state the case, for, if you do, it can be managed."
My heart palpitated with gratitude, but it would have been
unprofessional to give It utterance; so I simply expressed my
readiness to undertake the office. " Consider yourself, then,
retained as stating counsel," said he, but without handing me
any fee. " All you want is an opportunity of showing what
you can do with a jury, and never was there a finer one than

THE LAWYEE IN LOVE. 163
this. It was just such another that first brought that lad there
into notice," pointing to one of the sergeants that rustled by
us. " You shall have your instructions in full time to be pre
pared. Only hit the Bible-boy in the way I know you can,
and your name will be up on the circuit.''
The next day Shanahan called me aside again. In the
interval, I had composed a striking exordium and peroration,
with several powerful passages of general application, to be
Interspersed according as the facts should turn out, through
the body of the statement. "Ned," said the attorney to me,
as soon as we had reached a part of the Hall where there
was no risk of being overheard, " I now want to consult you
upon" — here he rather hesitated — " in fact, upon a little case
of my own." After a short pause he proceeded : " You know
a young lady from your county. Miss Dickson?" — "Harriet
Dickson 1" — " The very one." — " Intimately well ; she 's now
in town with her cousins in Harcourt street : I see her almost
every day.'' — " She has a very pretty property too, they
say, under her father's ^Vill — a lease for lives renewable for
ever." — " So I have always understood." — " In fact, Ned," he
continued, looking somewhat foolish, and In a tone half slang,
half sentiment, " I am rather inclined to think — as at present
advised — that she has partly gained my affections. Come,
come, my boy, no laughing; upon my faith and soul, I'm
serious — and what's more, I have reason to think that she'll
have no objection to my telling her so : but, with those devils
of cousins at her elbow, there's no getting her into a corner
with one's self for an instant ; so, what I want you to do for
me, Ned, is this — just to throw your eye over a wide-line copy
of a little notice to that effect I have been thinking of serving
her with." Here he extracted from a mass of law-documents
a paper endorsed, "Draft letter to Miss D  ," and folded
up and tied with red tape like the rest. The matter corre
sponded with the exterior. I contrived, but not without an
effort, to preserve my countenance as I perused this singular
production, in which sighs and vows were embodied In the
language of an affidavit to hold to bail. Amid the manifold
vagaries of Cupid, it was the first time I had seen him

164 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOE BAEEISTEE.
exchanging his ordinary dart for an Attorney's office-pen.
When I came to the end, he asked if I thought it might be
improved. I candidly answered that it would, in my opinion,
admit of change and correction. " Then," said he, "I shall be
eternally obliged if you'll just do the needful with it. You
perceive that I have not been too explicit, for, between our
selves, I have one or two points to ascertain about the state
of the property before I think it prudent to commit myself on
paper. It would never do, you know, to be brought into court
for a breach of promise of marriage; so you'll keep this in
view, and before you begin, just cast a glance over the Statute
of Frauds." Before I could answer, he was called away to
attend a motion.
The office thus flung upon me was not of the most dignified
kind, but the seduction-case was too valuable to be risked ; so
pitting my ambition against my pride, I found the latter soon
give way ; and on the following day I presented the lover
with a declaratory effusion at once so glowing and so cautions,
so impassioned as to matters of sentiment, but withal so
guarded in point of law, that he did not hesitate to pronounce
it a masterpiece of literary composition and forensic skill. He
overwhelmed me with thanks, and went home to copy and
despatch it. I now come to the most whimsical part of the
transaction. With Miss Dickson, as I had stated to her ad
mirer, I was extremely intimate. We had known each other
from childhood, and conversed with the familiarity rather of
cousins than mere acquaintances. When she was In town, I
saw her almost daily, talked to her of myself and my pros
pects, lectured her on her love of dress, and in return was
always at her command for any small service of gallantry or
friendship that she might require. The next time I called, I
could perceive that I was unusually welcome. Her cousins
were with her, but they quickly retired and left us together.
As soon as we were alone, Harriet announced to me "that
she bad a favor — a very great one indeed — to ask of me."
She proceeded, and with infinite command of countenance.
"There was a friend of hers — one for whom she was deeply
interested — in fact it was — but no — she must not betray a

LAW AND LOTE. 165
secret — and this friend had the day before received a letter
containing something like, but still not exactly a proposition
of — in short, of a most interesting nature ; and her friend was
ten-ibly perplexed how to reply to it, for she was very young
and inexperienced, and all that; and she had tried two or
three times and had failed ; and then she had consulted her
(Harriet), and she (Harriet) had also been puzzled, for the
letter in question was in fact, as far as it was intelligible, so
uncommonly well written, both in style and in sentiment, that
her friend was, of course, particularly anxious to send a suit
able reply — and this was Harriet's own feeling, and she had
therefore taken a copy of it (omitting names) for the purpose
of showing it to me, and getting me — I was so qualified, and
so clever at my pen, and all that sort of thing — just to under
take, if I only would, to throw upon paper just the kind of
sketch of the kind of answer that ought to be returned."
The preface over, she opened her reticule and handed me a
copy of my own composition. I would have declined the
task, but every excuse I suggested was overruled. The prin
cipal objection — my previous retainer on the other side — I
could not in honor reveal ; and I was accordingly Installed in
the rather ludicrous office of conducting counsel to both par
ties in the suit. I shall not weary the reader with a technical
detail of the pleadings, all of which I drew. They proceeded,
if I remember right, as far as a sur-rebutter — rather an unusual
thing in modern practice. Each of the parties throughout the
correspondence was charmed with the elegance and correct
ness of the other's style. Shanahan frequently observed to
me, " What a singular thing it was that Miss Dickson was so
much cleverer at her pen than her tongue ;" and once upon
handing me a letter, of which the eloquence was perhaps a
little too masculine, he protested " that he was almost afraid
to go farther In the business, for he suspected that a girl who
could express herself so powerfully on paper would, one day
or other, prove too much for him when she became his wife."
But, to conclude, Shanahan obtained the lady, and the lease
for lives renewable for ever. The seduction case (as I after
ward discovered) had been compromised the day before he

166 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOE BAEEISTEE.
offered me the statement ; and from that day to this, though
his business increased with his marriage, he never sent me a
single brief.*
Finding that nothing was to be got by making public
speeches, or writing love-letters for attorneys, and having now
idled away some valuable years, I began to think of attending
sedulously to my profession ; and, with a view to the regula
tion of my exertions, lost no opportunity of inquiring into the
nature of the particular qualifications by which the men whom
I saw eminent or rising around me bad originally outstripped
their competitors. In the course of these inquiries, I discov
ered that there was a newly-invented method of getting rap
idly into business, of which I had never heard before. The
secret was communicated to me by a friend, a king's counsel,
who Is no longer at the Irish Bar. When I asked him for Lis
opinion as to the course of study and conduct most advisable
to be pursued, and at the same time sketched the general
plan which had presented itself to me, "Has it never struck
you," said he, " since you have walked this Hall, that there is
a shorter and a far more certain road to professional success?"
I professed my ignorance of the particular method to which he
alluded. " It requires," he continued, " some peculiar qualifi
cations : have you an ear for music 1" — Surprised at the ques
tion, I answered that I had. "And a good voice?" — "A
tolerable one." — "Then, my advice to you Is, to take a few
lessons in psalm-singing ; attend the Bethesda regularly ; take
a part in the anthem, and the louder the better; turnup as
much of the white of your eyes as possible — and in less than
six months you'll find business pouring in upon you. You
smile, I see, at this advice ; but I have never known the plan
to fail, except where the party has sung Incurably out of tune.
Don't you perceive that we are once more becoming an Island
of Saints, and that half the business of these Courts passes
through their hands 1 When I came to the bar, a man's suc-
* This attorney's non-committal caution reminds me of another of the craft,
who challenged a man to fight a duel with him, and fixed the meeting, " in the
Phoenix Park, adjacent unto the city of Dublin, and in that part of it entitled
'The Fifteen Acres' — be the same more or less." — M.

DEAWING WATEE IN A SIEVE.

167

cess depended upon his exertions during the six working-days
of the week ; but now, he that has the dexterity to turn the
Sabbath to account is the surest to prosper : and
" ' Why should not piety be made.
As well as equity, a trade.
And men get money by devotion
As well as making of a motion 7' "
These hints, though thrown out with an air of jest, made
some Impression on me; but after reflecting for some time
upon the subject, and taking an impartial view of my powers
in that way, I despaired of having hypocrisy enough for the
speculation, so I gave It up. Nothing therefore remaining,
but a more direct and laborious scheme, I now planned a
course of study In which I made a solemn vow to myself to
persevere. Besides attending the courts and taking notes of
the proceedings, I studied at home, at an average of eight
hours a-day. I never looked into any but a law-book. Even
a newspaper I seldom took up. Every thing that could touch
my feelings or my imagination I excluded from my thoughts,
as inimical to the habits of mind I now was anxious to acquire.
My circle of private acquaintances was extensive, but I man
fully resisted every invitation to their houses. I had assigned
myself a daily task to perform, and to perform it I was deter
mined. I persevered for two years with exemplary courage.
Neither the constant, unvarying, unrewarded labors of the
day, nor the cheerless solitude of the evenings, could induce
me to relax my efforts.
I was not, however, insensible to the disheartening change,
both physical and moral, that was going on within me. All
the generous emotions of my youth, my sympathies with the
rights and interests of the human race, my taste for letters,
even my social sensibilities, were perceptibly wasting away
from want of exercise, and from the hostile influence of an
exclusive and chilling occupation. It fared still worse with
my health : I lost my appetite and rest, and of course my
strength ; a deadly pallor overcast my features ; black circles
formed round my eyes ; my cheeks sank in ; the tones of my
voice became feeble and melancholy ; the slightest exercise

168 ¦ CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOE BAEEISTEE.
exhausted me almost to fainting ; at night I was tortured hy
headaches, palpitations, and frightful dreams ; my waking
reflections were equally harassing. I now deplored the sinis
ter ambition that had propelled me into a scene for which. In
spite of all my self-love, I began to suspect that I was utterly
unfitted. I recalled the bright prospects under which I had
entered life, and passed in review the various modes in which
I might have turned my resources to honorable and profit
able account. The contrast was fraught with anguish and
mortification. As I daily returned from the Courts, scarcely able to drag
my wearied limbs along, but still attempting to look as alert
and cheerful as if my success was certain, I frequently came
across some of my college contemporaries. Such meetings
always gave me pain. Some of them were rising in the army,
others in the church ; others, by a well-timed exercise of their
talents, were acquiring a fair portion of pecuniary competence
and literary fame. They all seemed happy and thriving, con
tented with themselves and with all around them ; while here
was I, wearing myself down to a phantom In a dreary and
profitless pursuit, the best years of my j'outh already gone,
absolutely gone for nothing, and the prospect overshadowed
by a deeper gloom with every step that I advanced. The
friends whom I thus met inquired with good-nature after my
concerns ; but I had no longer the heart to talk of myself I
broke abruptly from them, and hurried home to picture to my
now morbid Imagination the forlorn condition of the evening
of life to a briefless barrister. How often, at this period, I
regretted that I had not chosen the English Bar, as I had
more than once been advised. There, if I had not prospered,
my want of success would have been comparatively unob
served. In London I should, at the worst, have enjoyed the
immunities of obscurity ; but here my failure would be exposed
to the most humiliating publicity. Here I was to be doomed,
day after day and year after year, to exhibit myself In places
of public resort, and advertise. In my own person, the disap
pointment of all my hopes.
These gloomy reflections were occasionally relieved by

HOPELESSNESS. 169
others of a more soothing and philosophic cast. The catas
trophe, at the prospect of which I shuddered, it was still in
my own power to avert. The sufferings that I endured were,
after all, the factitious growth of an unwise ambition. I was
still young and independent, and might, by one manly effort,
sever myself for ever from the spell that bound me ; I might
transport myself to some distant scene, and find in tranquillity
and letters an asylum from the feverish cares that now bore me
down. The thought was full of comfort, and I loved to return
to it. I reviewed the different countries in which such a rest
ing-place might best be found, and was not long in making a
selection. Switzerland, with her lakes and hills, and moral
and poetic associations, rose before me : there inhabiting a
delightful cottage on the margin of one of her lakes, and
emancipated from the conventional Inquietudes that now
oppressed me, I should find my health and my healthy
sympathies revive.
In my present frame of mind, the charms of such a philo
sophic retreat were irresistible. I determined to bid an eter
nal adieu to demurrers and special contracts, and had already
fixed upon the time for executing my project, when an unex
pected obstacle interposed. My sole means of support was
the profit-rent, of which I have already spoken. The land,
out of which It arose, lay in one of the insurrectionary dis
tricts ; and a letter from my agent in the country announced
that not a shilling of it could be collected. In the state of
nervous exhaustion to which the " blue books" and the blue
devils had reduced me, I had no strength to meet this unex
pected blow. To the pangs of disappointed ambition were
now added the horrors of sudden and hopeless poverty. I
sank almost without a struggle, and becoming seriously indis
posed, was confined to my bed for a week, and for more tharv
a month to the house.
When I was able to crawl out, I moved mechanically toward
the Courts. On entering the Hall, I met my friend, the king's
counsel, who had formerly advised the Bethesda : he was
struck by my altered appearance, inquired with much concern
into the particulars of my recent Illness, of which he had not
Vol. IL— 8

170 CONFESSIONS OF A JUNIOE BAEEISTEE.
heard before, and, urging the Importance of change of air,
insisted that I should accompany him to pass a short vacation
then at hand at his country-house in the vicinity of Dublin.
The day after my arrival there, I received a second letter
from my agent, containing a remittance, and holding out more
encouraging prospects for the future. After this I recovered
wonderfully, both In health and in spirits. My mind, so agi
tated of late, was now, all at once. In a state of the most per
fect tranquillity : from which I learned, for the first time, that
there Is nothing like the excitement of a good practical blow
(provided you recover from it) for putting to flight a host of
imaginary cares. I could moralize at some length on this
subject, but I must hasten to a conclusion.
The day before our return to town, my friend had a party
of Dublin acquaintances at his house : among the guests was
the late Mr. D  , an old attorney in considerable business,
and his daughter. In the evening, though it was summer
time, we had a dance. I led out Miss D  : I did so, I
seriously declare, without the slightest view to the important
consequences that ensued. After the dance, which (I remem
ber it well) was to the favorite and far-famed " Leg-of-Mutton
jig," I took my partner aside, in the usual way, to entertain
her. I began by asking if "she was not fond of poetry?"
She demanded " why I asked the question?" I said, "Be
cause I thought I could perceive it In the expression of her
eyes." She blushed, " protested I must be flattering her, but
admitted that she was." I then asked " if she did not think
the Corsair a charming poem ?" She answered, " Oh, yes !" —
" And would not she like to be living in one of the Grecian
islands?" — "Oh, indeed she would." — "Looking upon the
blue waters of the Archipelago and the setting sun, associated
as they were with the rest." — " How delightful It would be !"
exclaimed she. "And so refreshing!" said I. I thus con
tinued till we were summoned to another set. She separated
from me with reluctance, for I could see that she considered
my conversation to be the sublimest thing that could be.
The effect of the impression I had made soon appeared.
Two days after, I received a brief in rather an important case

EEALITT V. EOMANCE. 171
from her father's office. I acquitted myself so much to his
satisfaction, that he sent me another, and another, and finally
installed me as one of his standing counsel for the junior busi
ness of his office. The opportunities thus afforded me brought
me by degrees into notice. In the course of time, general
business began to drop In upon me, and has latterly been
increasing into such a steady stream, that I am now inclined
to look upon my final success as secure.
I have only to add, that the twelve years I have passed at
the Irish Bar have worked a remarkable change in some of
my early tastes and opinions. I no longer, for instance,
trouble my head about immortal fame ; and, such is the force
of habit, have brought myself to look upon a neatly-folded
brief, with a few crisp Bank-of-Ireland notes on the back of it,
as, beyond all controversy, the most picturesque object upon
which the human eye can alight.

LOED MANNERS.
On the 31st day of July, in the year of our Lord 1827, Lord
Manners, the late Keeper of his Majesty's Irish Conscience,
bade the Irish bar farewell.* The scene which took place
upon that melancholy occasion deserves to be recorded. It
being understood that an address of professional condolence
on behalf of the more loyal portion of the bar was to be pro
nounced by that tender enunciator of pathetic sentiment, the
Attorney-General, the Court of Chancery was crowded at an
early hour. The members of the Beef-Steak Club, with coun
tenances in which it was difficult to determine whether their
grief at the anticipated " export" from Ireland, or the traces
* Lord Manners, was son of Lord George Manners, of the Ducal house of
Rutland. He was bom in 1756, was educated at Cambridge, where he obtained
the honor of being fifth wrangler, and, having been called to the bar, in due
time became Solicitor-General to the Prince of Wales, and one of his parha-
mentary adherents. In 1802, when made Solicitor-General to the king, he was
knighted. In 1803 he was one of the official prosecutors of Colonel Despai'd,
tried and executed for high treason. He was made one of the Barons of the
Exchequer in 1805, and in 1807 was raised to the peerage, on being appointed
Lord-Chancellor of Ireland, as successor to Mr. Ponsonby. On demanding the
Seals, with alj wonted formality, he discovered that he had accidentally left
behind him the authority for assuming the new dignity ! Lord Manners lield
the Irish Chancellorship for twenty years — until July, 1827, when he was re
called, and succeeded by Sir Anthony Hart. As an equity judge, he wanted
capacity, and was further deficient, by being a decided political partisan. Many
of his judgments were reversed by the House of Lords, and nothing but the
fact that he was ultra-Protestant in his principles could have retained him, so
long, in a position where the general opinion of the profession as to his con
duct and qualifications was contemptuous in the extreme. He died in May,
1842, aged eighty-six. — M.

HIS FEIENDSHIP FOE ME. SAUEIN. 173
of their multitudinous convivialities, enjoyed a predominance,
filled the galleries on either side. The junior aristocracy of
the bar, for whom the circuits have few attractions, occupied
the body of the court ; while the multitude of King's counsel,
in whom his Majesty scarcely finds a verification of the divine
saying of Solomon, were arrayed along tbe benches, where it
is their prerogative to sit, in the enjoyment of that leisure
which the public so unfrequently disturb. The assembly
looked exceedingly dejected and blank. A competition in
sorrow appeared to have been got up between the rival admi
rers of his Lordship, the Pharisees of Leeson and the Saddu-
cees of the Beef-Steak Club. " The Saints," however, from
their habitual longitude of visage, and the natural alliance be
tween their lugubrious devotion and despair, had a decided
advantage over the statesmen of revelry and the legislators
of song ; and it was admitted on all hands that Mr. M'Kaskey
should yield the palm of condolence to a certain pious Ser
geant, into whom the whole spirit of the prophet Jeremy ap
peared to have been infused.
But the person most deserving of attention was Mr. Saurin.
Lord Manners had been his intimate associate for twenty years.
He had, upon his Lordship's first arrival in Ireland,' pre-occu-
pied his mind ; he took advantage of his opportunities of access,
and, having crept like an earwig into his audience, he at last
effected a complete lodgment in his mind. Mr. Saurin estab
lished a masterdom over his faculties, and gave to all his pas
sions the direction of his own. A very close intimacy grew
up between them, which years of Intercourse cemented into
regard. They were seen every day walking together to the
court, with that easy lounge which indicated the carelessness
and equality of their friendship. In one instance only had
Lord Manners been wanting in fidelity to his companion. He
had been commissioned to inform him (at least he was himself
six months before apprized of the intended movement) that
Mr. Plunket would, in return for his services to the Adminis
tration, be raised to the office of Attorney-General for Ireland.
Had Mr. Saurin been informed of this determination, he might
have acted more wisely than he did, when, in a fit of what his

174 LOED MANNEES.
advocates have been pleased to call magnanimity, but which
was nothing else than a paroxj'sm of offended anogance, he
declined the Chief-Justiceship of the King's Bench ! Lord
Wellesley took him at his word, and gave him no opportunity
to retrace his steps. He would not, at all events, have been
taken unawares. Mr. Saurin is not conspicuous for his tenden
cies to forgiveness, l5ut he pardoned the person in whose favor,
of all others, a barrister should make an exception from his
vindictive habits. Their intercourse was renewed ; and what
ever might have been the state of their hearts, their arms con
tinued to be linked together. This intimacy was noted by the
solicitors, and, although deprived of his official power, Mr.
Saurin retained his business, and the importance which at
tends it.
The resignation, therefore, of Lord Manners,* to whose court
his occupations were confined, was accounted a personal mis
fortune to himself. From the peculiar circumstances in which
he was placed, he drew the general notice in the scene of sep
aration, and was an object of interest to those who, without
any political sympathy or aversion, are observers of feeling,
and students of the human heart. In justice to him It should
be stated that his bearing did not greatly deviate from his ordi
nary demeanor, and that he still looked the character which
he had been for some time playing, If not with profit, yet not
without applause, as the stoic of Orangeism, and the Cato of
" a falling state." Not that he appeared altogether insensible,
but. In his sympathies, his own calamities did not seem to have
any very ostensible share : any expression of a melancholy
* He was succeeded by Sir Anthony Hart, bom in 1759 at St Kitt's, in the
West Indies. He was once a Unitarian preacher at Norwich ; went to the En
glish bar ; practised in equity for many years, and with such success that he
was then made Master of the Rolls, succeeded Sir John Leach as Vice-Chan
cellor of England, in April, 1827, and was then knighted. In Ireland he gave
much satisfaction, by reason of the soundness and impartiality of his judgments.
He literally had no politics, and prided himself on being a lawyer and nothin|^
else — in strong contrast to his predecessor, who was a political partisan and
not much of a lawyer. He retired from office, at the close of 1830, when the
Grey Ministry appointed Plunket to succeed him, and died December, 1831,
aged seventy-two. — M.

JILK, JUL

176

kind, that was perceivable through his dark and Huguenot
complexion, seemed to arise more Immediately from the pains
of friendship than from any sentiment in more direct connec
tion with himself.
I can not avoid thinking, however, that his mind must have
been full of scorpion recollections : there was, at least, one in
cident which must have deeply stung him. Had the address
to Lord Manners been pronounced by Mr. Plunket, Mr. Saurin
might have been reconciled to the representation of the bar, in
the person of a man who had long approved himself his supe
rior. But to see his own proselyte holding the place to which
he had acquired a sort of prescriptive right, and to witness in
Henry Joy the Attorney-General to a Whig Administration,
while he was himself Avithout distinction or office, was, I am
sufe, a source of corrosive feelings, and must have paine'd him
to the core.
It would, however, have been a misfortune for the lovers of
ridicule, if any man except Mr. Joy had pronounced the ad
dress which was delivered to the departing Chancellor. He is
a great master of mockery, and looks a realization of Goethe's
Mephlstophlles. So strong is his addiction to that species of
satire which is contained In exaggerated praise, that he scarcely
ever resorts to any other species of vituperation. Nature has
been singularly favorable to him. His short and upturned nose
is admirably calculated to toss his sarcasms off; his piercing
and peering eyes gleam and flash in the voluptuousness of
malice, and exhibit the keen delight with which he revels iij
ridicule and luxuriates In derision. His chin is protruded, like
that of the Cynic listening to St. Paul, in Eaphael's Cartoon.
His muscles are full of flexibility, and are capable of adapting
themselves to every modification of irony. They have the
advantage, too, of being covered with a skin that dimples into
sneers with a plastic facility, and looks like a manuscript of
Juvenal found in the ashy libraries of Herculaneum. In this
eminent advocate, such an assemblage of physiognomical
qualifications for irony are united, as I scarcely think the
countenance of any orator in the ancient city of Sardos could
have presented. His face was an admirable commentary

176 LOED MANNEES.
on the enormity of the encomium which he was deputed to
offer. The " Evening Mail,"* indeed, the official organ of the Or
ange faction In Ireland, gives a somewhat different account of
this amusing exhibition. "Every sound," says that graphic
journalist, "was bushed, while the Attorney-General, with a
tremulous voice, but with a feeling and empha.sis which showed
that the sentiments expressed came directly from his heart,"
and so forth. Then follows the address. I forbear frora set
ting forth the whole of it, but select a single sentence : "We,"
said Mr. Joy, " can not but admire that distinguished ability,
that strict impartiality, and that unremitting assiduity, with
which you have discharged the various duties of your office."
The delivery of this sentence was a masterpiece of sarcastic
recitation ; and, to any person who desired to become a profi
cient in the art of sneering, of which Mr. Joy is so renowned a
professor, afforded an invaluable model.
Cicero, In his oratorical treatise, has given an analysis of
the manner in which certain fine fragments of eloquence have
been delivered; and for the benefit of the students of Irony, it
may not be improper to enter with some minuteness into a
detail of the varieties of excellence with which Mr. Joy pro
nounced this flagitious piece of panegyric. With this view, I
shall take each limb of the sentence apart. — " We can not but
admire :" — In uttering these words, he gave his head that
slight shake, with which he generally announces that he Is
about to let loose some formidable sarcasm. He paused at the
* The Dublin Evening Mail, long the leading ultra-Tory and ulti'a- Protestant
newspaper in Ireland, was commenced in the heat of the agitation on the
Catholic question, and obtained immediate notoriety and influence, by means
of the talent and vigor with which it was conducted, and its boldness in per
sonality. Curiously enough, the proprietors (brothers, named Sheeban), had
been Catholics, and the violence of their Protestantism was greater (on that
account? — for who so violent as a renegade ?) than if they had been bom to
it. Dturing the Session of Parliament, Remmy Sheehan i-esided in London,
very much in the confidence of the leaders of the Toi-y party, and his corre
spondence in the Evening Mail often anticipated even the leading London pa
pers in political information. The Mail still flourishes — but Kemmy Sheehan
is no more. It was said that he returned to the Catholic faith, before he
died.— M.

8AE0ASM IN DISGUISE. 177
same time, as if he felt a qualm of conscience at what he was
about to speak, and experienced a momentary commiseration
for the victim of his cruel commendations. This feeling of
compassion, however, only lasted for an instant, and he as
sumed the aspect that became the utterance of the vituperative
adulation which he had undertaken to inflict. " We can not
but admire the distinguished ability :" — At the word "ability"
it was easy to perceive that he could with difficulty restrain his
sense of extravagance from breaki«ig into laughter. However,
he did succeed in keeping down the spirit of ridicule within
the just boundaries of derision. At the same time he convey
ed to his auditors (the Chancellor excepted) the whole train
of thought that was passing in his mind ; and by the magic
of his countenance recalled a series of amusing recollections.
It was impossible to look at him without remembering the ex
hibitions which for twenty years had made the administration
of justice in the Irish Court of Chancery the subject of Lord
Eedesdale's laughter, and of John Lord Eldon's* tears. He
spoke It with such a force of mockery, that he at once brought to
the mind of the spectators that spirit of Ignorant self-sufficiency,
and presumptuous precipitation, with which Lord Manners dis
charged the business of his court. A hundred cases seemed
to rise in his face. Stackpoole and Stackpoole appeared in
the curl of his lip ; Blake and Foster quivered in the move
ment of his nostrils; Brossley against the Corporation of Dub
lin appeared In his twinkling eyes; and "reversal" seemed
to be written in large characters between his brows.*
The next sarcasm which this unmerciful adulator proceeded
to apply, turned on his lordship's selection of magistrates. At
* All these were important cases, which Lord Manners decided one way,
while the House of Lords, assisted by the judges of England, on appeal, deci
ded that he was wholly and almost flagrantly in error. — It would have been dif
ficult, I suspect,, to have found a worse equity judge than Lord Manners. Some
time after his death, while I was going over these Sketches with Mr. Sheil, I
asked his opinion of Lord Manners. His reply w^as emphatic enough : — " Go
out into the street — pick up the first man in a decent coat, who is able to give
correct replies to any three ordinary questions you may put to him — put that
man on the Lord-Chancellor's seat, in Dublin, and he must make a better judge
than Lord Manners was." — M. 8»

178 LOED MANNEES.
the utterance of " strict Impartiality," the smile of Mr. Joy
gleamed with a still yellower lustre over his features, and
he threw his countenance Into so expressive a grimace, that
the whole loyal, but pauper magistracy of Ireland was brought
at once to my view. I beheld a long array of insolvent jus
tices with their arms out at the elbows, who had been honored,
by virtue of theii- Protestantism, with his Majesty's commission
of the peace.*
I did not think it possible .for the powers of irony to go be
yond this last achievement of the Attorney-General, until he
came to talk of his lordship's unremitting assiduity. It was
well known to every man at the Bar, that Lord Manners ab
horred his occupations. He trembled at an enthymem, he
sunk under a sorites, and was gored by the horns of a dilem-
* It may be scarcely worth mention — but I may as well state that, when I
lived in Ireland (five-and-twenty years ago : eheufugaces anni !) 1 had frequent
occasion to notice that the Catholics preferred going before a Protestant magis
trate, even though a justice of their own persuasion might be nearer their vicin
ity. When I was a boy, I passed much of my time at the house of my uncle,
the late John Shelton, of Rossmore, in my native county of Limerick, and I
noticed that the peasantry always brought their complaints before him in prefer
ence to a Catholic Justice of the Peace who lived on the other side of the
mountain, and nearer to their homes. Their complaint was that their own
magistrate " was too severe, entirely, upon them." So, a few years after, when
I was at school, at Fermoy, in the county of Cork, there was an excellent man,
and a Catholic (Thomas Dennehy, of Belleview), who w^as a magistrate. He
lived near Carrigaline, and between Glandalane and Fermoy, but the peasantry
and the small farmers always passed him by, and went before George Walker,
a Protestant magistrate. I ascertained the cause — the Catholic Justices, who
were " few and far between,'' were so much exposed to, and afraid of, censure,
that they usually inclined a trifle toward a Protestant complainant or defendant
— for fear that they should be suspected of partiality toward persons of their
own creed. — Perhaps I should apologize for thus bringing my own expeT.ences
into this note ; but, when I resided, as a child, with my uncle, the magistrate,
in the county of Limerick, I was usually thrust into the library, on wet days,
being accused (very unjustly, of course) of being " a troublesome lad.' This
library consisted exclusively of a complete set of Walker's Hibernian Magazine,
recording Irish history during the time of the Union, as well as many years
preceding and following it, and the repeated perusal of these magazines made
me so familiar with Irish matters that I recollect nearly all they told me — which
may account for the particular and distinctive details which I have put into
these notes. — M.

AS A SPOETSMAN. 179
ma. His irritability In court was the subject of universal com
plaint. He seemed to labor under an incapacity of fixing his
attention for any continuity of time to any given matter of
meditation ; and by his wriggling in his seat during the ad
mirable arguments of Mr. Pennefather, and his averted eye,
and the puffing of his cheeks, exhibited his strong distaste for
reasoning, and the horror which he entertained for all induc
tive thought. It was in frosty weather that his excitability
and fretfulness of temperament were particularly conspicuous.
He was fond of shooting, and if he was detained by a long
argument beyond the usual period which he allowed to the
hearing of causes, about Christmas, he broke out Into fits and
starts of ludicrous irritation. Mr. Plunket used to say that
whenever Lord Manners heard the name of Mr. Hitchcock (a
gentleman of the Irish Bar of considerable talents) his lordship
used to start, as if it were " Hish ! Cock!" that had struck
his ear. The memory of the Attorney-General, in compliment
ing him on Lis "unremitting assiduity,'' was, I am sure, car
ried back to those scenes of judicial Impatience, in which,
when the mercury stood at the freezing point, his lordship's
intolerance of all argument was exemplified. The look with
which Mr. Joy executed the recitation of this portion of his
address, was, if possible, a higher feat. It was the chef-d'oeuvre
of mockery, and masterpiece of derision. His eyes, his brows,
his nose and chin. — But I will not undertake to describe him
— enough to say, that such was the potency of his sarcasm,
that I was transported in fancy to the Duke of Leinster's de
mesne at Carton, where bis lordship used to shoot, and I be
held him amid those brambles of which he was much fonder
than the thorny quicksets of the law, with his chancellor bat,
a green jacket, a scarlet waistcoat, silk breeches, and long
black gaiters, which constituted his usual sporting attire.
I was, however, recalled from this excursion of the imagin
ation, by the farewell address of his lordship to the Bar. The
Attorney-General had concluded, and Lord Manners rose to bid
it a long adieu. It did him great credit that he did not fol
low the example of Lord Redesdale, who wept and whimpered
upon his taking leave of Ireland and ten thousand a year.

180 LOED MANNEES.
Lord Manners had the materials of consolation in his pocket,
having received about two hundred thousand pounds of the
public money, for " the distinguished ability, the strict impar
tiality, and unremitting assiduity," of which Mr. Joy had per
formed the panegyric. So far from indulging in any lachry
matory mood, his lordship proved himself a partisan to the
last, by giving vent to his factious antipathies against the
Solicitor-General. He had strenuously resisted the nomina
tion of Mr. Doherty to the office, for which his talents as a
speaker, both in Parliament and at the Bar, had eminently
qualified him. There was not an individual of the profession,
who did not feel convinced that Lord Manners was actuated
by an hostility arising from political motives, founded upon
Mr. Doherty's support of Catholic Emancipation.
Nearly the last sentence in his address is copied from the
Evening Mail. " If," said his lordship, " I have disap
pointed or delayed the expectations of any gentleman of the
Bar, I lament it. I can assure you, gentlemen, I have not
been actuated by a personal motive, or hostile feeling against
him, but by a sense of duty imposed on me, in the situation in
which I am placed to protect the fair claims of the Bar, by
resisting, to the utmost of my power, the interference of par
liamentary or political interest in the advancements in the
law." It is obvious that under the veil of affected regret
which Lord Manners states himself to have felt at having,
with a view to the promotion of Sergeant Lefroy, opposed the
wishes of Mr. Canning and the directions of the Cabinet, there
lurks In the intimation that his lordship had opposed the Inter
ference of parliamentary and political interest, a reflection
upon Mr. Doherty, of which good feeling, as well as a sense
of justice, should have forbidden the expression. This Par
thian arrow should not have been discharged at such a mo
ment. It was not a time for the indulgence of acrimonious
feelings. But, independently of the factious rancor which is conveyed
in this reference to Mr. Doherty, it is surprising that such a
want of ordinary discretion should have been manifested by
an individual wbp was himself so pbnoxiows to the unkind

HIS INCOMPETENOT. 181
observation with which, at parting, he wantonly aspersed the
advancement of a member of the bar. Lord Manners had
objected to Mr. Doherty upon the ground of his juniority.
He was not, himself, of as long standing at the English Bar
when he was created Solicitor-General. Mr. Doherty was at
the head of his circuit, where he had evinced as high qualifi
cations as a speaker as any gentleman In the whole profession.
Lord Manners was unemployed at the bar, except when he got
a brief from his brother-in-law, a solicitor of Lincoln's Inn.
Lord Manners' objection to the exercise of parliamentary or
political interest seems to be equally strange. What but the
power of the house of Rutland could ever have raised a man
of his feeble understanding and slight acquirements to the
office of Lord Chancellor of Ireland, to the discharge of whose
duties he was so utterly incompetent, that his able and eru
dite successor can scarcely refrain from expressing astonish
ment at the spirit of blunder in which almost every one of
Lord Manners's orders, which came before him for revision. Is
conceived ?
After Lord Manners had delivered his valedictory commem
oration of his own deserts, he proceeded to his house in Ste
phen's Green,* for the purpose of receiving a deputation from
the Corporation of Dublin, between whom and his Lordship
twenty years of devoted adherence to the cause of loyal mo
nopoly had established a profound sympathy. The Corpora-
* Stephen's Green is a square in Dublin, an Irish mile in circumference, if
you walk round it by the houses : an English mile, if you measure by the cir
cumference of the area within surrounded by iron railings. I should mention
that Irish longitudinal exceed English miles, in the proportion of 11 of the
former, to 14 of the latter. — Miss Edgeworth told a story of a traveller who
complained to a Paddy, of the narrowness of the roads. " True enough," said
Pat, " but what you lose in the breadth, you gain in the length." In my time
the roads were excellent and not deficient in width. The system of Macad-
amization, as it is barbarously called, was practised on the Irish turnpike roads
a hundred years before a " canny Scot" filched it, from Ireland, and made a for-
ttme out of, and won a title from, John Bull, by passing it off as his own dis
covery. In 1847, under the Labor Expenditure system, some of the finest
roads in Ireland were torn up, under the idea of improving them, and, the funds
failing, before the " improvements"" commenced, the poor roads were left in
the ruined condition to which they had been reduced ! — M.

182 LOED MANNEES.
tion of Dublin, it must be on all hands admitted, were under
extraordinary obligations to Lord Manners: a deficiency in
their accounts to the amount of upward of forty thousand
pounds had been the subject of a bill in Chancery, at the suit
of Mr. Brossley, who, at the instance of the Chamber of Com
merce, had taken proceedings in order to compel them to
disgorge the produce of their systematic extortion from the
citizens of Dublin. To the astonishment of the whole Bar,
Lord Manners refused all relief. I well remember the Indig
nation of Mr. Plunket, when the Chancellor pronounced his
decree. He shook his hand In mingled scorn for his intel
lect, and anger at the everlasting effrontery of the decision.
The decree has been since opprobriously reversed In the
House of Lords.
But the Corporation were grateful for the manifestations of
his Lordship's good-will ; and accordingly on the day of his
departure, and after he had taken his farewell of the bar,
the Lord-Mayor, the sheriffs, and Sir Abraham Bradley King,
together with a train of civic baronets and knights, with whom
his Majesty has repaired the exhausted aristocracy of Ireland,
waited upon Lord Manners. The following is an extract from
their address, taken from the faithful record, from which a
relation has been already made : " We are not insensible that
by your undeviating loyalty to your Sovereign, and attach
ment to the true and genuine principles of an unrivalled Con
stitution In Church and State, you have been exposed to the
malignant attacks of base and dastardly demagogues, upheld
by the vile vituperations of a licentious press."
The Evening Mail proceeds to state, that after the Town-
Clerk had concluded (for it seems that a Lord-Mayor does not
enjoy the advantages of Dogberry, and that reading and
writing do not come to him by nature), his Lordship placed his
hand upon his heart, and read the following answer : " After
a residence of upward of twenty years in your capital, where
my conduct In public and private life must be well known to
you, this mark of approbation from the highly-respectable and
loyal Corporation of the City of Dublin can not fail to be
extremely gratifying to me : I receive it with pleasure, and

HIS SELF-DELUSION. 183
shall remember It with gratitude. If I have any claim to be
distinguished by you, it must arise from my having anxiously
confined myself to the judicial duties of my office, and care
fully abstained, as far as was consistent with the trust-reposed
in me, from interfering in party or political topics. This line
of conduct has justified me in the consideration of your consti
tutional body, and may. In some degree, have entitled me to
those expressions of kindness and good opinion which accom
pany your address, and for which I return you my warmest
acknowledgments. I do assure you, my Lord-Mayor and gen
tlemen, I shall always feel a strong interest in the prosperity
of your Corporation, and a grateful sense of the obligations I
owe to Ireland."
The Evening Mail mentions that the Chancellor then
handed the address to the Lord-Mayor ; but It omits to record
that the worthy functionary stood before the Chancellor in a
state of cataleptic astonishment. The whole of his attendants,
from the High-Sheriffs down to the Rev. TIghe Gregory, and
Mr. David M'Cleary, the oratorical tailor, who cut out Sir
Abraham Bradley's surtout, participated In the feeling of the
Lord-Mayor, and stood with their eyes fixed upon the Chancel
lor, like the statues of amazement in all Its different forms.*
The assurance given by his Lordship that he had never
interfered in politics, struck them Into stupefaction. Lord
Manners was at a loss to account for this phenomenon, and
vainly endeavored to rouse the Lord-Mayor from the influ
ences of wonder to a consciousness of external objects. He
placed the address in his hand, but It dropped out of it. He
* Sir A. B.King, Dr. Grregoi7,andDavyM'Cleary,weremembers of the Corpo
ration of Dublin, in those days, and (as such) violent partisans and politicians.
King was Stationer to the Crown, and the Grey Ministry broke his patent,
thereby annulling the lucrative appointment. King, nearly ruined, and half
heart-broken, went to O'Connell, against whom he had been making speeches
for twenty years, and placed himself and his case in the hands of his old oppo
nent. O'Connell devoted himself to the matter, obtained a pension of twelve
hundred pounds sterling, for King, as compensation, and the Orangeman's
death-bed words were of gratitude to O'Connell. M'Cleary is also dead.
Gregory got 'a rich living in Ireland, and expecting no more gain by politics, is
now a rational man. — M.

184 LOED MANNEES.
adopted various other expedients, but in vain. At length, how
ever, he bethought himself of an artifice, which was attended
with instantaneous success ; and, as the Evening Mail has it,
" invited the Lord Mayor and Corporation to partake of a
collation prepared for them." The doors of an adjoining room
were thrown open, and the moment the enchanting spectacle
which was presented by a splendid banquet was disclosed, at
the sight of " cold meats, fowls, turkeys" (they are thus enu
merated In the gazette of loyalty), the effect was sudden and
complete ; they recovered at once from the petrifying power
of astonishment, and precipitated themselves upon the viands
which were prepared for them, with a voracity which well
became " the ancient, loyal," hungry, and bankrupt Corpora
tion of Dublin.*
* It was for calling it " a beggarly Corporation," in 1815, that Mr D'Esterre
challenged Mr. O'Connell — which ended in his ovm death. — M.

THE MANNERS TESTIMONIAL.
Certain of the bar, consisting, to a great extent, of the eter
nal perambulators of the Hall, have recently subscribed for a
piece of plate, which is to be called " The Manners Testimo
nial, or Forensic Souvenir." It was originally intended to
throw the contributions of the profession into a silver cup, where
with his Lordship might deeply drink to the memory of King
William and to the oblivion of himself; but it was discovered
that this ingenious idea had been forestalled by the Corpora
tion, and it was determined, after mature consultation, to pre
sent the late Chancellor with a massive salver, upon which the
principal incidents of his life should be represented. For the
purpose of completing the commemorative donation, it became
necessary to impose a new rate upon the loyalty of the bar.
To this proposition the Commissioners of Bankrupts, notwith
standing their obligations to his Lordship, were at first strenu
ously opposed, not a single docket having been lately struck :
but upon the change of Ministry, a rumor having gone abroad
that Lord Manners was to return to administer justice, as he
always did, indifferently in Ireland, the prudential objections
of the judicial dignitaries of the Royal Exchange were laid
aside. A sufficient fund has been collected, after a good deal
of application to the political virtue and individual gratitude
of the friends and admirers of Lord Manners, and a very fine
piece of plate has been produced. It is not as yet quite fin
ished ; but, through the interest of Sergeant Lefroy with the
pious silversmith to whom it has been intrusted, I have suc
ceeded in obtaining an inspection. The salver contains, in
exquisite relief, a record of the chief adventures of his Lord-

186 THE MANNEES TESTIMONIAL.
ship's judicial and politicjal life, together with an exemplifica
tion of the most characteristic traits of his character. If a
contemporaneous commentary were not published, the figures
which are introduced into this memorial of legal sensibility
might hereafter afford as much matter for skeptical speculation
as the celebrated shield in " Martinus Scriblerus." With a
view, therefore, to assist the curiosity of future antiquarians,
some account of " The Manners Testimonial, or Forensic Sou
venir," will be briefly given.
Upon the border, the busts of the most celebrated members
of the bar, who have been most conspicuous in "getting the
thing up," are admirably embossed. Mr. Whytc occupies, of
necessity, a very considerable space In this part of the testi
monial. A good deal of dead silver has been employed in
doing him justice. Exactly opposite to Mr. Whyte, Mr. Peter
Fitzgibbon Henchey appears with that look of egregious dig
nity which is peculiar to him. I am, however, inclined to think
that the artist did not seize him at the most felicitous moment,
for there Is a touch of sadness In his importance. Perhaps the
funds had sustained some sudden declination at the time; and
the battle of Navarino has left its traces on his brow : or, per-
adventure (and that were the more amiable hypothesis), Mr.
Henchey has discovered In Sir Anthony Hart a lamentable
inferiority to his discriminating predecessor, and an unconsti
tutional disposition to lend an equal attention to the Catholics
of the outer and to the Protestants of the inner bar. The rest
of the heads that form a border to the testimonial are very ex
actly copied from most of the King's counsel, whom Lord Man
ners left as an appropriate deposite behind him. I do not
know why Mr. Perrin and Mr. Richard Moore have been
omitted. But it is upon the reliefs in the body of the salver that the
greatest skill has been displayed both In execution and In de
sign. A series of beautiful biographical illustrations has been
introduced, in the first of which Lord Manners appears, at the
English bar, with an empty bag. In the background, the Min
ister is perceived eying him from a distance; while the .Duke
of Portland, who seems to be engaged in earnest discourse

LOED MANNEES AND THE JESUITS. 187
with the official detector of latent desert, points with one hand
to the House of Commons, and with the other to the Bench.
In the next scene his Lordship is represented, in the enact
ment of the part of Baron Manners at the Assizes of Lancaster,
trying the case of Weld v. Hornby (reported in 7 East 195),
when his Lordship delivered an illegal but constitutional charge
against the Jesuits of Stonyhurst. The case involved the right
of the Jesuits to fish In the river Ribble, and It Is surprising
what an early zeal in the cause of Protestantism was displayed
by the puisne Baron, who was afterward intrusted with the
selection of Impartial magistrates in Ireland. In the execution
of this relief, great ingenuity has been evinced. I can not,
however, say that the workmanship has surpassed the mate
rials. The courthouse is filled with Jesuits. They are with
out their caps and gowns, which at Stonyhurst they did not
presume to wear, although at Clongowes Wood, under Mr.
O'Connell's advice, and the Solicitor-General's opinion, the
body-guard of the Pope appear in full regimentals. Notwith
standing the want of the insignia of Loyolism, it is easy, from
the expression of their faces, to detect the disciples of Ignatius.
I recognise the deeply -furrowed face of Mr. Plowden,* in which
time never could succeed in impairing the powerful St. Omer's
physiognomy, for which he was remarkable. The likeness is
so faithful, that I am disposed to think that Mr. Cruize, who
sprang out of the hot-bed of orthodoxy, must have supplied tho
artist with a sketch of his old confessor. The very able chair
man of the county of Clare, together with Mr. Nicholas Ball,
who is rising so rapidly to the first eminence at the bar, are
represented among a group of boys in the gallery of the court
house. I think that I can also discover, in an acrimonious-
looking urchin, who is taking down a note of Baron Manners'
charge, the face of Mr. Sheil. The Judge Is in the act of addres
sing the jury, with strong indications of loyal excitement, over
* The late Francis Plowden was an Irish barrister, author of a History of
Ireland, popular in his day. He wrote two or three other books, chiefly on le
gal subjects. He was sued for a libel in his History, and cast in five thousand
pounds sterling damages, rather than pay which, he retired to France, where
he died, in 1829, at an advanced age. — M.

188 THE "MANNEES TESTIMONIAL.
the bench in which he presides. The artist has engraven the
significant motto, " Qualis ab incepto." In the perspective there
is a representation of the English Court of King's Bench, with
Lord EUenborough laughing grimly at the misdirections of tho
learned Judge, whose verdict he is in the act of Ignominlously
setting aside. Some of Lord Manners's friends objected to the
record of this early incident in his judicial story ; but it was
answered that the illegality of his opinions was more than
counterbalanced by his zeal for the constitution, and that the
evidence of his Inveterate Protestantism should be preserved
at the expense of his legal reputation. It was besides observed,
and with reason, that however his judgment might be obscured
by his emotions, yet the purity of his intentions could not be
brought into question.
After this specimen of his feats upon the English Bench, the
records of his Irish Chancellorship appear. He is represented,
on his arrival in Ireland, with Mr. Saurin bidding him wel
come. An earwig Is seen creeping Into his ear. This Is fol
lowed by Lord Manners presiding in court : Mr. O'Connell Is
addressing him, while his Lordship's eye is averted, and his
cheeks are filled with the materials of a puff, which the learned
Lord Is preparing to discharge. The crier of the court is seen
lighting the fire in the gallery, and throwing Vesey Junior and
the Statutes Into the flames. Various views of impatient adju
dication occupy this part of the testimonial. The spirit of ju
dicial hurry, for which his Lordship was remarkable, may at
first view appear to be objectionable. But it must be remem
bered that, however the suitors may suffer, the counsel are
gainers by the precipitation of a Judge. At present, for ex
ample, Sir Anthony Hart insists that due consideration shall
be given to every cause of a difficult nature. The consequence
is, that where twelve were beard, but not listened to, in a sin
gle day by Lord Manners, the present Chancellor bestows an
equal time to a single cause. It is true that the parties are
satisfied by his decision, and the occupation of Lord Redes
dale in the House of Lords seems likely to be gone ; but the
counsel's fees are in proportion diminished ; the crisp paper of
the Bank of Ireland is no longer seen in such rapid circulation

JUDICIAL MISDOINGS. 189
through the inner bar ; and Sergeant Lefroy having stated his
case in the morning, has leisure during the rest of the day to
devote himself to less sublunary pursuits, and may exclaim
with Hamlet, " For my own poor part, I will go pray."
I do not think it necessary to go through the whole of the
reliefs which are intended to illustrate Lord Manners's judicial
excellences. Dow's parliameirtary cases contain an ample
commentary on his faculties. One scene, however, in the tes
timonial, relating to this portion of his Lordship's character, is
deserving of mention. I allude to the case of " Pims, minors."
Lord Manners decided, without principle or precedent, that
the infant daughters of a Catholio. mother should be removed
from her society on account of her profession of the illegal reli
gion. The artist has chosen the separation of Mrs. Pim and
of her family for the manifestation of his pathetic powers.
Lord Manners surveys the spectacle of domestic anguish with
a calm philosophy. In the expression of which it was no doubt
intended to intimate that his high sense of public duty subdued
in his Lordship's mind those infirmities to which, wherever the
interests of Protestantism were concerned, he was never known,
although in many respects a kind and amiable man, to give
way. He is next represented In his capacity of Superintendent of
the Magistracy of Ireland, and in the act of refusing the com
mission of the peace to Sir Patrick Bellew, a Roman Catholic
baronet of ancient family, and of considerable fortune ; while
the description of individuals whom he considered entitled to
that important trust is illustrated by a group of pauper justices
in the county of Waterford, who are seen in the background.
Ono would at first take them to be a corps of the Mendicity
Association ; but the commission of the peace, which is seen
sticking out of the rents of their ragged pockets, indicates their
office ; while the lilies that hang from their tattered shirts are
beautifully emblematic of their constitutional qualifications.
His Lordship next appears as a member of the House of
Lords. He is seen addressing his brother-peers on the trial of
the Queen, when be called the consort of a King, and the child
less mother of a buried Princess, " this woman !" The feeling

190 THE MANNEES TESTIMONIAL.
of astonishment and disgust which pervades the House is well
rendered. Even Lord Lauderdale himself looks surprised.
Some traits of his Lordship's domestic history succeed. He
is represented as reading Fox's Martyrs to the Honorable Miss
Butler, and reclaiming her from the errors of Popery — a tem
ple of Hymen is seen In the distance.
His Lordship Is afterward introduced at dinner. The object
of this relief is to intimate his familiar cast of religious opin
ions. He was known to have as great a horror of a thirteenth
at table as the Chief-Baron has of a thirteenth juror. The
artist represents his Lordship surrounded by the ominous num
ber, in a state of pious dismay.
This dinner-scene is followed in natural succession by a ser
mon at the Asylum in Leeson street. But there is nothing
very remarkable In it, except the looks of profound reverence
with which " the Saints" alternately direct their attention to
the pulpit, which is occupied by Mr. Daly, and the pew in
which the Chancellor Is engaged in his devotions. I should
not, however, omit to mention that the face of a Magdalen,
peeping through the bars of the adjoining receptacle of repent
ant loveliness, at Mr. James Smith Scott, Is beautifully finished,
and that the mingled expression of reproach and of tenderness
with which she regards him is admirably rendered.
But I find that I am dwelling with too minute an accuracy
upon details ; and while I am endeavoring to obviate by antici
pation any doubts which may occur hereafter to the learned,
who shall survey " The Manners Testimonial,'-' I forget that I
run the risk of wearying my readers of the present generation.
I must, therefore, pass by many of the features of this beauti
ful piece of art, and leave them to puzzle posterity.
There is, however, one scene of splendid conviviality, on
which I can not refrain from saying a word or two. I allude
to the magnificent relief in the centre, which represents a meet
ing, at Morlsson's Tavern, of the Beefsteak Club. Lord Rath-
down, better known as Lord Monk, presides over the Baccha
nalian confraternity. This is a wonderful likeness. The
exact look has been preserved, which enabled him to play to
admiration in the private theatricals at Kilkenny, at which his

LOED MONK, IN OHAEACTEE. 191
Lordship's name appeared among the dramatis persona in the
following felicitous announcement : " Doodle, a foolish lord,
Lord Monk." The noble Earl is represented in that felicitous
moment when he gave as a toast, " The Pope in the pillory,"
with certain additional aspirations, which It is not necessary
to record. The whole assembly of sympathizing compotators
stand with uplifted glasses, replenished to the brim. The Irish
Chancellor is seen at the right hand of the noble and intellect
ual chairman. In the usual " hip, hip, huzza" attitude. A ring,
given him by the King during his visit in Ireland, sparkles
on his finger, and he tramples the King's parting letter* under
his feet.
* In this missive, written by Lord Sidmouth, as Home Secretary, in the
name of George IV., it was strongly recommended that party squabbles should
cease and liberality of thought and action be exercised in fiiture. — M.

THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
The Roman Catholic Association having resolved to petition
the House of Commons against the Bill which was in progress
for their suppression [in 1825J, requested Mr. O'Connell and
Mr. Sheil to attend at the bar of the house, and prayed that
those gentlemen should be heard as counsel on behalf of the
body in whose proceedings they bad taken so active a partici
pation.* They appeared to undertake the office with reluc-
* It may be necessary to preface this sketch with a rapid view of the posi
tion and prospects of the Catholic question at this time. In 1823, the Catho
lic Association was formed, and was in active operation during 1824. One
result was that it literally put down the spirit of insurrection which had crowded
tbe prison with inmates, and the gallows and the hulks with victims. It raised
large sums, by means of small but numerous contributions to a fiand called
" The Catholic Rent." The Government, angry and jealous that the Associa
tion had restored that comparative tiunquillity in Ireland which its own harsh
rule had been unable to do, resolved that " it must be put down :" — and more
particularly, as the general proceedings of this body were made veiy closely to
resemble those of the Parliament in London. Accordingly, when the Session
commenced, on February 3, 1825, the Ministerial document called "The
speech from the Throne," suggested the suppression of the Association ; and
Mr. Goulburn, who was Irish Secretary, obtained leave to bring in a Bill for
that purpose, on that day week. When intelligence of this reached Dublin,
the Catholic Association resolved that a Deputation should be sent to London
to watch over and take care of the interests of the Catholics. Messrs. O'Con
nell and Sheil were specially intrusted with this duty — aU the Catholic Peers
were declared members of the DeputBtion, which farther included as many
members of the Association as chose to swell the cavalcade. Mr. Goulburn's
bill was introduced. On February 17, 182.5, Mr. Brougham presented a peti
tion from the Catholics of Ireland, against a measure which so vitally threatened
their interests, and moved that they be heard at the bar of the house, by them
selves or their counsel, in opposition to tho Act. This motion was keenly de
bated (as is described by Mr. Sheil in tho text) and rejected by 222 to 189

HOW CONSTITUTED. 193
tance. It involved a great personal sacrifice upon, the part of
Mr. O'Connell; and, independently of any immediate loss in
his profession, Mr. Shiel could not fail to perceive that it must
prejudice him In some degree as a barrister, to turn aside
from the beaten track of his profession, in the pursuit of a
brilliant but somewhat Illusory object. It was, however, next
to impossible to disobey tbe injunction of a whole people —
they accepted of this honorable trust. At the same time that
counsel were appointed, It was determined that other gentle
men should attend the debates of the House of Commons iu
the character of deputies, and should constitute a sort of
embassy to the English people.
The plan of its constitution was a little fantastic. Any per
son who deemed it either pleasurable or expedient to attach
himself to this delegation was declared to be a member, and,
in consequence, a number of individuals enrolled themselves
as volunteers in tbe national service. I united myself to these
political missionaries, not from any hope that I should succeed
in detaching Lord Eldon from the church, or in banishing the
fear of Oxford from tbe eyes of Mr. Peel,* but from a natural
curiosity to observe the scenes of Interest and novelty, into
which, from my representative character, I thought it not
improbable that I should be introduced. I set out in quest of
votes. The Association-suppression bill passed rapidly through the Commons :
reached the Lords, on the first, and received the Royal Assent on the ninth of
March, 1825. Almost as a matter of course, and as if to fulfil O'Connell's boast
that he " could drive a coach-and-four through any Act of Parliament," a new
Catholic Association immediately sprung up out of the ashes of the old. — M.
* Peel was educated at Harrow, where Byi-on was his schoolmate. Thence
he went to Oxford University, where he graduated with the highest honors,
rarely conferred upon one person, though his successor Mr. Gladstone also won
them. He took what is called " double-first" honors — i. c. in classics and
science. When Abbott, the Speaker, was raised to the peerage in 1817, Peel
was elected to succeed him as member for his Alma Mater, and retained this
distinction (which, on account of his support of Catholic Emancipation, Can
ning had vainly sighed for, as he confessed, at the close), until 1829, when,
ceasing to be Peel the intolerant, he rendered justice' to the Catholics, and
was defeated, on a contest for the seat for the University, by Sir. R. H. Inglis,
a man of small ability but extensive illiberality. In 1825, as an Anti-Catholic,
Peel was popular at Oxford, — M.
Vol. IL— 9

194 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
political adventure, and determined to commit to a sort of
journal whatever should strike me to be deserving of note.
Upon my return to Ireland, I sent to certain of my friends
some extracts from the diary which I had kept, in conformity
with this resolution. They told me that I had heard and seen
much of what was not destitute of Interest, and, at their sug
gestion, I have wrought the observations, which were loosely
thrown together, into a more regular shape; although they
will, I fear, carry with them an evidence of the haste and
heedlessness with which they were originally set down.
The party of deputies to which I had annexed myself trav
elled in a barouche belonging to Mr. O'Connell, of which he
was kind enough to offer us the use. I fancy that we made
rather a singular appearance, for the eyes of every passenger
were fixed upon us as we passed ; and at Coventry (a spot
sacred to curiosity), tbe mistress of the inn where we stopped
to change horses, asked me, with a mixture of inqnisitiveness
and wonder, and after many apologies for the liberty she took
In putting the interrogatory, " who the gentlemen were 1" I
contented myself with telling her that we were Irish. "Par
liament folk, I suppose?" to which, with a little mental reser
vation, I nodded assent.
Mr. O'Connell, as usual, attracted the larger portion of the
public gaze. He was seated on the box of the barouche, with
a huge cloak folded about him, which seemed to be a revival
of tbe famous Irish mantle ; tbougli far be it from me to insin
uate that it was ever dedicated to some of the purposes to
which it is suggested, by Spenser, that the national garment
was devoted. His tall and ample figure enveloped in the
trappings that fell widely round him, and bis open and manly
physiognomy, rendered him a veiy conspicuous object, from the
elevated station which he occupied. Wherever we stopped, he
called with an earnest and sonorous tone for a newspaper,
being naturally solicitous to learn whether he should be heard
at the bar of the bouse ; and, in Invoking " mine host," for the
parliamentary debates, he employed a cadence and gesture
which carried along with them the unequivocal Intimations of
his country.

BISHOP MILNEE.

195

Nothing deserving of mention occurred until we had reached
Wolverhampton. We arrived at that town about eight o'clock
in the morning, with keener appetites than befitted the sea
son of abstinence [Lent], during which we were condemned to
travel. The table was strewed with a tantalizing profusion
of the choicest fare. Every eye was fixed upon an unhallowed
round of beef, which seemed to have been deposited in the
centre of the breakfast-room with a view to "lead us Into
temptation," when Mr. O'Connell exclaimed, " Recollect that
you are within sacred precincts. The conqueror of Sturges,
and the terror of the Vetoists, has made Wolverhampton
holy." This admonition saved us on the verge of the preci
pice — we thought that we beheld the pastoral staff of the
famous Doctor raised up between us and tbe forbidden feast,
and turned slowly and reluctantly from its unavailing contem
plation to tbe lenten mediocrity of dry toast and creamless
tea. We had finished our repast, when it was suggested that
we ought to pay Doctor Milner* a visit before we proceeded
upon our journey. This proposition was adopted with alacrity,
and we went forth in a body in quest of that energetic divine.
We experienced some little difficulty in discovering his abode,
and received most evangelical looks and ambiguous answers
to our inquiries. A damsel of thirty, with a physiognomy
which was at once comely and demure, replied to us at first
with a mixture of affected ignorance and ostentatious disdain ;
*¦ At this time (1825), Dr. John Milner, the eminent Catholic controversial-.
ist, was seventy-three years old ; he died in 1826. — Bom in 1752, he completed
his education at Douay, in France, was ordained a priest in 1777, and was sta
tioned, two years after, at Winchester, where there were several French pris
oners who were Catholics. In 1782, he published a funeral discourse on the
death of Bishop Challoner, and became ^ voluminous writer. His learning,
research, and skill, ns an Antiquarian, were displayed in his History of the
Antiquities of Winchester, and other works of merit. In his limited History
he offended the prejudices of Dr. Sturges, a prebendary of the Cathedral, who
assailed him in a History of Popery, to which the reply was Milner's well-
known Letters to a Prebendar)', in which he boldly and ably defended the
Papal Church. He had a somewhat angry discussion, also, with Charles But
ler, the Catholic barrister, on ecclesiastical points. In 1803, Dr. Milner was
appointed Vicar-Apostolic in the Midland District of England, and removed
to Wolverhampton — he was now Bishop of Castabala, in pariiius. In 1818,

196 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
until Sir Thomas Esmonde,* who is " a marvellous proper''
man in every sense of the word, whether it be taken in its
physical or moral meaning, addressed the fair votary of Wes
ley with a sort of cbuck-under-the-chin manner (as Leigh Hunt
would call it), and, bringing a more benign and feminine smile
upon a face which bad been over-spiritualized by some potent
teacher of tbe word, induced the mitigated methodist to reply,
" If you had asked me for the Popish priest. Instead of the
Catholic bishop, I should have told you that he lived yonder,"
pointing to a large but desolate-looking mansion before us.
We proceeded, according to her directions, to Dr. Milner's
residence. It had an ample but dreary front. The windows
were dingy and covered with cobwebs, and the grass before
the door seemed to illustrate the Irish imprecation. It is sep
arated from the street by a high railing of rusty metal, at
which we rang several times without receiving any response.
It was suggested to us, that if we tried the kitchen-door, we
should probably get in. We accordingly turned Into a lane,
leading to the postern-gate, which was opened by an old and
feeble, but very venerable gentleman, in whom I slowly recog
nised the active and vigorous prelate whom I had seen some
years ago in the hottest onset of the Veto warfare in Ireland.
His figure had nothing of the Becket port which formerly he-
longed to it. A gentle languor sat upon a face which I had
seen full of fire and expression; bis eye was almost hid under
the relaxed and dropping eyelid, and his voice was querulous,
undecided, and weak. He did not recollect Mr. O'Connell,
and appeared at a loss to conjecture our purpose. " We have
come to pay you a visit, my lord," said Mr. O'Connell. The
interpellation was pregnant with our religion ; " my lord,"
uttered with a vernacular richness of intonation, gave him an
he published his " End of Religious Controversy,'' one of the ablest defences
of the points in the Catholic faith, to which Protestants most commonly object.
Bishop Milner was an amiable and pious man, and much beloved in the dis
trict over which he had ecclesiastical rule. — M.
* Sir Thomas Esmonde was an Irish Catholic baronet, who took a lively
interest and an active part in Catholic politics, before the passing of the Relief
Bill, in 1829.— M.

CHAELES BUTLEE.

197

assurance that we were from " the Island of Saints," and on
the right road to heaven.*
He asked us, with easy urbanity, to walk in. We found
that be had been sitting at his kitchen-fire, with a small cup
of chocolate, and a little bread, which made up his simple and
apostolic breakfast. There was an English neatness and
brightness in everything about us, which was not out of keep
ing with the cold but polished civility of our reception.
The Doctor was, for a little while, somewhat hallucinated,
and still seemed to wonder at our coming. There was an
awkward pause. At length Mr. O'Connell put him " au fait."
He told him who he was, and that he and his colleagues were
going to London to plead the cause of their holy religion.
The name of the counsellor did not give tbe Doctor as electric
a shock as I had expected : he merely said that we did him
very great honor, and wished us every success. He requested
us to walk up stairs, and welcomed us with much courtesy, but
little warmth. Time had been busy with him. His faculties
were not much impaired, but bis emotions were gone. His
ideas ran clearly enough, but his blood bad ceased to flow.
We sat down In his library. The conversation hung fire. The
inflammable materials of which his mind was originally com
posed, were damped by age. O'Connell primed him two or
three times, and yet he did not for a long while fairly go off.
I resolved to try an expedient by way of experiment upon
episcopal nature, and, being well aware of his feuds with Mr.
Charles Butlerf (the great lawyer and profound theologian of
* Ll the medieval ages, when the rest of purope was much obscured by ig
norance, learning was largely cultivated in Ireland, which, from the large num
ber of eminent and pious ecclesiastics which she then produced, was called
"The Island of Saints."— M.
t Charles Butler, bom in 1750, did not die until 1832. He was a Catholic
who had closely studied the law, and, as a conveyancer, was held in high repute.
He was an accomplished scholar. His " Notes to Coke upon Littleton" are
prized by black-letter lawyers, and his " Reminiscences" are full of political,
literary, and personal information. The rest of his works, which were numer
ous, were chiefly ecclesiastical, with, now and then, a political pamphlet. His
Lives of the Saints, Historical Account of the Laws against the Roman Cath
olics, and his Book of the Catholic Church, excited great interest when they
appeared, and still rank as standard works. — M.

198 THE CATHOLIO DEPUTATION.
Lincoln's Inn), asked him, with much innocence of manner, ,
though I confess with some malice of Intent, " whether he had
lately heard from his old friend Charles Butler?" The name
was tallsmanic — the resurrection of the Doctor's passions was
instantaneous and complete. His face became bright, his form
quickened and alert, and his eye was lighted up with true scho
lastic ecstasy. He seemed ready to enter once more Into the
rugged field of controversy, in which he had won so many lau
rels, and to be prepared to " fight bis battles o'er again." To
do him justice, be said nothing of bis ancient antagonist in po
lemics which a bishop and a divine ought not to say : he, on
the contrary, mentioned that a reconciliation had taken place.
I could, however, perceive that tbe junction of their minds was
not perfectly smooth, and saw the marks of the cement which
had " soldered up the rift." The odium theologicum has been
neutralized by an infusion of Christianity, but some traces of
its original acidity could not fail to remain. He spoke of Mr.
Butler as a man of great learning and talents ; and I should
mention parenthetically that I afterward beard the latter ex
press himself of Doctor Milner as a person of vast erudition,
and who reflected honor, by the purity of bis life, and the ex
tent of his endowments, upon tbe body to which he belonged.
The impulse given to bis mind by the mention of his achieve
ments in controversy, extended itself to other topics. Cobbett
had done, said Doctor Milner, service to Ireland, and to its
religion, by addressing himself to the common sense of the
English people, and trying to purge them of their misconcep
tions respecting the belief of a great majority of the Christian
world.* The Doctor spoke with a good deal of energy of the contests
* Cobbett's " History of the Protestant Reformation," had an immense sale
in Great Britain and Ireland, was repeatedly and largely reprinted in Amer
ica, and was translated into several European languages. It is full of interest
— partly arising from the number and variety of its episodes on the popular top
ics of the day, and partly from the manner in which the writer showed up and
condemned the spoliation of the Anglican Church, by Heniy VIIL, when he
thought that " Gospel tmth first beamed from BuUen's eyes." It was a singu
lar book, at all events, for a Protestant (which Cobbett professed to be) to have
written. — M.

NATIONAL CONTEASTS. 199
which had been carried on between the clergy and the itiner
ant missionaries of the Bible Society in Ireland, and congratu
lated Mr. O'Connell and Mr. Sheil on their exertions in Cork,
from which the systematic counteraction of the new apostles had
originated.* Mr. O'Connell expressed his obligations upon
this occasion to Doctor Milner's celebrated, and, let me add,
admirable work," which has been so felicitously entitled "The
End of Religious Controversy." — " Ob I" said the Doctor, " I
am growing old, or I should write a supplement to that book."
After some further desultory conversation, we took our leave.
Doctor Milner, who had been aroused Into his former energy,
thanked us with simple and unaffected cordiality for our visit.
He conducted us to the gate before his mansion (in which I
should observe that neither luxury nor want appear), with his
white head uncovered, and, with the venerable grace of age
and piety, bade us farewell.
We proceeded upon our journey. No Incident occurred de
serving of mention, unless a change in our feelings deserves
the name. The moment we entered England, I perceived that
the sense of our own national importance bad sustained some
diminution, and that, however slowly and reluctantly we ac
knowledged It to ourselves, the contemplation of the opulence
which surrounded us, and in which we saw the results and evi
dences of British power and greatness, impressed upon every
one of us the consciousness of our provincial inferiority, and
the conviction that It is only from an intimate alliance with
Great Britain, or rather a complete amalgamation with her im
mense dominion, that any permanent prosperity can be reason
ably expected to be derived. In the sudden transition from
the scenes of misery and sorrow to which we are habituated
* In 1824, when the Protestant Reformation Society held a public meeting
at Cork, a great deal of good and earnest abuse was poured out, by the clerical
speakers, against the Catholics and the Pope. O'Connell, Sheil, and other
Catholics, interrupted the proceedings, demanding to be heard, on the principle
of fair play, in defence of their religion. This having been conceded, they
delivered some very admirable polemical harangues, which the Reformation
party did not even attempt to answer. It was considered, therefore, that the
Catholic party, who remained masters of the field, had triumphed in the con
test. — M.

200 THE CATHOLIO DEPUTATION.
in Ireland to the splendid spectacle of English wealth and civ
ilization, the humiliating contrast between the two islands
presses itself upon every ordinary observer. It is at all times
remarkable. Compared to ber proud and pampered sister,
clothed as she is in purple and In gold, Ireland, with all her
natural endowments, at best appears but a squalid and emaci
ated beauty. I have never failed to be struck and pained by
this unfortunate disparity ; but upon the present occasion the
objects of our mission, and the peculiarly national capacity in
which we were placed in relation to England, naturally drew
our meditation to the surpassing glory of the people of whom we
had come to solicit redress.
An occasional visit to England has a very salutary effect.
It operates as a complete sedative to the ardor of the political
passions. It should be prescribed as a part of the antiphlogistic
regimen. The persons who take an active part in the impas
sioned deliberations of the Irish people are apt to be carried
away by the strength of the popular feelings which they con
tribute to create. Having heated the public mind Into an ar
dent mass of emotion, they are themselves under the influence
of its intensity. This result is natural and just : but among
the consequences (most of which are beneficial) which have
arisen from the habitual excitation, and to which the Catho
lics have reasonably attributed much of their inchoate success,
they have forgotten the effect upon themselves, and have omit
ted to observe in their own minds a disposition to exaggerate
tbe magnitude of the means by which their ends are to be ac
complished. In declaiming upon tbe Immense population of
Ireland, they insensibly put out of account tbe power of that
nation from whom relief is demanded, and who are grown old
in tbe habit of domination, which of all habits it is most diffi
cult to resign.
A man like Mr. O'Connell who, by the force of his natural
eloquence produces a great emotion In tbe midst of an enthusl-
astio assembly of ardent and bigb-blooded men — who is hailed
by tbe community, of which he is the leading member, as their
chief and champion — who is greeted with popular benedictions
as be passes — whose name resounds In every alley, and "stands

EVIDENCES OF ENGLISH WEALTH. 201
rubric" on every wall — can with difficulty resist the intoxica
ting influence of so many exciting causes, and becomes a sort
of political opium-eater, who must be torn from these seductive
indulgences, In order to reduce him Into perfect soundness and
soberness of thought. His deputation to England produced an
almost immediate effect upon him. As we advanced, the din
of popular assemblies became more faint : the voice of the
multitude was scarcely heard in the distance, and at last died
away. He seemed half English at Shrewsbury, and was
nearly Saxonized when we entered the murky magnificence
of Warwickshire. As we surveyed the volcanic region of
manufactures and saw a thousand Etnas vomiting their eternal
fires, the recollections of Erin passed away from his mind, and
the smoky glories of Skifton* and Wolverhampton took pos
session of his soul. The feeling which attended our progress
througb England was not a little increased by our approach
to its huge metropolis. The waste of wealth around us, the
procession of ponderous vehicles that choked the public roads,
the rapid and continuous sweep of carriages, the succession of
luxurious and brilliant towns, the crowd of splendid villas,
which Cowper has assimilated to the beads upon the neck of
an Asiatic Queen, and the vast and dusky mass of bituminous
* Shifnal is the name of the place. It is situated between the busy little town
of Wellington, in Shropshire, and the important borough of Wolverhampton, in
Staffordshire. Shifnal is only important as being the centre of a great iron
and coal district. Travellers to and from Ireland, via Holyhead, in the old
time of mail-coaches, used to be startled, on a dark night, in rapidly passing
over miles upon miles of a road, through a country, where, all around far as the
eye could take in at one view, immense furnaces flung a lurid light through the
gloom — which seemed all the gloomier by contrast — and hundreds of men
flitted to and fro, feeding these furnaces with coal or throwing, in heaps of
the limestone used to flux the liquid iron as it was separated from tlie ore by
heat. The sulphurous smell, from the immense quantity of coal thus consumed,
is so unpleasant and unwholesome, that, rather than inhale it,
" The boldest held their breath.
For a time."
The railway from Wolverhampton to Shrewsbuiy passes through the Shifnal dis
trict — but travelling at forty miles an hour aflows not much more than a few
minutes' glance at the fieiy furnaces I speak of. This is the scene of one of
the most touching adventures of Dickens' Little Nelly. — M.
9*

202 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
vapor which crowns the great city with an everlasting cloud,
intimated our approach to the modern Babylon.
Upon any ordinary occasion I should not, I believe, have
experienced any strong sensation on entering London. What
is commonly caHed " coming up to town," is not a very sublime
or moving incident. I honestly confess that I have upon a
fine summer morning stood on Westminster Bridge, upon my
return from the brilliant inanities of Vauxhall, and looked
upon London with a very drowsy .sympathy in the meditative
enthusiasm which breathes through Wordsworth's admirable
sonnet. But upon the occasion which I am describing. It
needed little of the spirit of political romance to receive a
deep and stirring impulse, as we advanced to the great me
tropolis of the British empire, and beard the rolling of the
great tide — tbe murmurs, if I may so say, of the vast sea of
wealth before us. The power of England was at this moment
presented to us in a more distinct and definite shape, and we
were more Immediately led, as we entered London, to bring
the two countries Into comparison. This, we exclaimed, is Lon
don, and the recollection of our own Eblana* was manifest in
the sigh with which the truism was spoken : yet the reflection
upon our inferiority was not unaccompanied by the consolatory
anticipation that the time was not distant, when we should be
permitted to participate in all tbe advantages of a real and
consummated junction of the two countries, when the impedi
ments to our national, prosperity should be removed, and Ire
land should receive the ample overflowings of that deep cur
rent of opulence which we saw almost bursting through its
golden channels in the streets of the immense metropolis.
Immediately after our arrival, we were Informed by the
agent of the Roman Catholic Association In London, Mr.
.^ilneas M'Donnelt (and who, in tbe discharge of the duties
* Eblana is the Latin name of Dublin, and that by which that city was des
ignated in early law documents. — M.
t .ffineas M'Donnel, who had been editor of the Cork Mercantile Chronicle,
was a good speaker and clever writer, who soon transferred himself to Dublin.
Taking an active part in Calholic politics, he was appointed salai'ied agent for
the Irish Catholics, and sent to London. He performed his duty, with ability
and zeal, until 1829, when Emancipation was granted. From tliat time, his

SIE FKAjSTCIS buedett. 203
confided to liim, Las evinced great talents, judgment, and
discretion), that Sir Francis Burdett* was desirous to see us as
soon as possible. We accordingly proceeded to his house in St.
James's Place, where we found the Member for Westminster
living in all the blaze of aristocracy. I had often heard Sir
Francis Burdett in popular assemblies, and had been greatly
struck with his simple, easy, and unsophisticated eloquence : — I
was extremely anxious to gain a nearer access to a person of
so much celebrity, and to have an opportunity of observing the
character and intellectual habits of a man who had given so
course was altex'ed by his applying himself, in the London Standard and other
ultra-Toiy Journals, to constant abuse of Mr. O'Connell, on the plea that Irish
agitation ought to have ceased when Emancipation was obtained. Mr. M'Don-
nell is StiU living, and resides in London, — Loi'd Norbury, who never could re
sist a joke, on seeing M*Donnell coming out of the house of Dr. Troy, the Cath
olic Archbishop of Dublin, exclaimed, "There is the pious jEneas returning
fi'om the sack of Troy !" — It is well that a pun need not involve a fact., as Dr.
Troy, who was the reverse of Falstaff, eschewed sack and other wines — his
limited resourcesbeing distributed among the needy. When he died, the sum of
a guinea was all that was found in the purse of this primitive Archbishop. — M.
* Sir Francis Burdett, whose rank and great fortune entitled him to a place
among the British Aristocracy, was a most violent democrat, from his starting
into public, until the last seven years of his Hfe. He derived his political bias
from Home Tooke, author of The Diversions of Purley. Born in 1770, he en
tered Parliament in 1796, and immediately opposed Pitt's Government. With
little intermission, he had a seat in the House of Commons until his death in 1844,
Constantly opposing every Tory Ministry, in 1810, Burdett having published a
letter to his constituents, in which (in no very measured terms) he said, that
the House of Commons had illegally exercised their power in committing Gales
Jones to prison, the speaker issued his wairant to apprehend him and convey him
to the Tower, for " gross breach of privilege." Burdett barricaded his house
in London, prepared to resist, and would have been backed by the populace,
who loved him. He was taken to the Tower, however, and confined there
until the prorogation of Parliament. He constantly supported liberal measures,
which made him a sort of Pariah among the noble and the wealthy, and sub
jected him to imprisonment and fine. He advocated Parliamentary Reform,
and Catholic Emancipation — but, in 1837, "England's pride and Westmin
ster's Gloi-y," as he was fondly styled, picking a quairel with O'Connell, went
over to the Tory party, and continued with them ever after. — He married
one of the daughters of Thomas Coutts, the rich London banker, and their
daughter, Angela Burdett, was left all the Coutts' fortune, by the banker's sec
ond wife (Harriet Mellon, an actress), whose second husband was the Duke
of St. Albans. — M.

204 THE CATHOLIC DISPUTATION.
much of its movement to the public mind. He was sitting in
his study when we were Introduced by Mr. M'Doiniel. He
received us without any of that hauteur which I have heard
attributed to him, and for which his constitutional quiescence
of manner Is sometimes mistaken. We, who have the hot
Celtic blood in our veins, and deal In hyperbole upon occasions
which are not calculated to call up much emotion, are naturally
surprised at what we conceive to be a want of ardor upon
themes and Incidents In which our own feelings are deeply
and fervently engaged.
During my short residence in London, I constantly felt
among the persons of high political influence to whom we
approached, a calmness, which I should have taken for the
stateliness of authority in individuals, but that I found it was
much more national than personal, and was, in a great degree,
a universal property of the political world. There was a
great deal of simple dignity, which was entirely free from af
fectation In the address flf Sir Francis Burdett. Having re
quested us to sit, which we did in a large circle (his first
remark Indeed was, that we were more numerous than he had
expected), he came with an Instantaneous directness to the
point, and after a few words of course upon the honor conferred
upon him by being Intrusted with the Catholic question, en
treated us with some strenuousness to substitute Mr. Plunket
in his place ; be protested his readiness to take any part In tbe
debate which should be assigned him ; but stated, that there
was no man so capable, and certainly none more anxious than
the Attorney-General for tbe promotion of our cause. But for
the plain and honest manner in which this exhortation was
given, I should have suspected that he was merely performing
a part — but I have no doubt of the sincerity with which the
recommendation was given.
He dwelt at length upon tho great qualifications of Mr.
Plunket as a parliamentary speaker, and pressed us to waive
'all sort of form with respect to himself, and -put him at once
aside for an abler advocate. Wo told him that it was out of
our power to rescind tho decision of an aggregate meeting.
This he spemed f;o feel, and said that he should endeavor to

SIE FKAWCIS BUKDErr. 205
discharge the trust as efficiently as he was able. His heart,
he said, was in the question — he knew that there could not
he peace in Ireland until it was adjusted; and for the country
he professed gre^t attachment. He loved tbe people of Ire
land, and It was truly melancholy to see so noble a race de
prived of tbe power of turning their great natural endowments
to. any useful account. These observations, which an Irishman
would have delivered with great emphasis, were made by Sir
Francis Burdett almost without a change of tone or look. He
made no effort at strong expression. Everything was said
with great gentleness, perspicuity, and candor. I thought,
however, that he strangely hesitated for common words. His
language was as plain as his dress,* which was extremely sim
ple, and indicated the favorite pursuit of a man who is " mad
at a foxchase, wise at g, debate."
I watched bis face while he spoke. His eyes are small and
bright, but have no flash or splendor. They are illuminated
by a serene and tranquil spirit : his forehead is high and finely
arched, but narrow and contracted, and, although his face is
lengthy, its features are minute and delicately chiselled off.
His mouth is extremely small, and carries much suavity about
It. I should have guessed him at once to be a man of rank,
but should not have suspected his spirit to be a transmigration
of Caius Gracchus. I should never have guessed that he was
the man whose breath had raised so many waves upon the
public mind, and aroused a storm which made the vessel creak.
I saw no shadow of the " tower of Julius" in bis pure and
ruddy color, and should never have conjectured that he had
inhaled the evaporations of Its stagnant moat.t At the same
time I should observe that, if there were no evidences of a
daring or adventurous spirit about this champion of tbe peo
ple, there are in his demeanor and bearing many indications
of calm resolve and Imperturbable determination.
* Summer or winter, Burdett appeared in the House of Commons in one
invariable costume — broad-brimmed hat, blue, brass-buttoned coat, drab
breeches, and top-boots ; the regular dress, in fact, of a country-gentleman fond
of field-sports. — M.
t At present, the moat which surrounds the Tower of London, ie a moat
mivdts water. — M.

206 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
I was a good deal more occupied in watching this celebrated
person than In observing my companions. Yet I at once per
ceived that we were too numerous and gregarious a body for a
council of state, and was glad to find Mr. O'Connell take a de
cided, and what was considered by some to be, a dictatorial
tone among ns. I saw that unless some one Individual assumed
tbe authority of speaking and acting for the rest, we should, in
all likelihood, be involved in those petty squabbles and miser
able contentions of which Bonaparte speaks as characteristic
of the Irish deputies who were sent to Paris to negotiate a rev
olution.* I was much pleased to find that Mr. O'Connell gave,
even in this early communication, strong proof of that wise,
temperate and conciliatory spirit, by which his conduct In
London wa.s distinguished, and by the manifestation of which
he conferred incalculable service on his country.
After this interview with Sir Francis Burdett, the chief ob
ject of which, upon his part, was to sound our disposition to
confide the conduct of our cause to the Irish Attorney-General
[Plunket], we proceeded to the House of Commons, for the
purpose of attending the debate upon tbe petition to be heard
by counsel at tbe bar. We had already been Informed by Sir
Francis Burdett that it was very unlikely that the House would
accede to the petition, and that Ministers had collected their
forces to oppose It.t For the result we were therefore pre-
* Napoleon's opinion, as reported by O'Meara, is unequivocal : " If the Irish
had sent over honest men to me, I would certainly have made an attempt upon
Ireland. But I had no confidence in either the integrity or the talents of the
Irish leaders that were in France. They could offer no plan, were divided in
opinion, and continually quarrelling with each other." — i\I.
t Lord Livei'pool was at the head of that Ministry; Eldon was Chancellor:
Peel, Home Secretary, and Mr. Canning the only member of the Cabinet who
supported Catholic Emancipation. The petition from the Catholics of Ireland
was intrusted, not to Plunket, who had constantly and ably advocated their
claims (and was now a little out of favor because, as Irish Attorney-Genei-al,
he had supported the measure for putting down the Association), but to Burdett,
who presented it, March 1, 1825, and then moved for a committee of Catholic
inquiiy. He was supported, among others, by Plunket, Canning, and Brougham,
and strongly opposed by Peel: — but the motion was carried by 247 to 234 and
the Bill eventually passed the Commons. But between the first and second
readings, the Duke of York, next heir to the Throne, made a speech, on April

THE DUKE OF YOEK. 207
pared ; but we were extremely anxious to hear a discussion,
in which Mr. Brougham was expected to display his great pow
ers, and in which tbe general demerits of the association would
in all probability be brought by Ministers under review. The
Speaker* had tbe goodness to direct that the Catholic deputies
should be allowed to sit under the gallery during the discus
sions which appertained immediately to tbe object of their
mission; and we were, in consequence, accommodated with
places upon this vantage-ground, from which I had an oppor
tunity of observing the orators of the night. We found a con
siderable aiTay in the House, and attracted universal obser
vation. In the front of our body was Mr. O'Connell, upon whom
every eye was fixed. He affected a perfect carelessness of
manner ; but It was easy to perceive that he was full of rest
lessness and Inquietude under an Icy surface. I saw the cur
rent eddying beneath. Next him was Mr. O'Gorman, who
carried a most ofiiclal look as secretary to tbe Catholics of all
Ireland, and seemed to realize tbe beau-ideal of Irish self-pos
session. (I should observe, by-tlie-way, that Mr. O'Gorman
25, 1825, in which, after declaring his hostility to the Catholic claims, he pub
licly vowed never to abate it, and affii-med this declaration, as if on oath, by
the concluding words — " So help me God." This manifesto led to the loss of
the measure in the Lords. In Moore's emphatic poem, " The Irish Slave,"
written, in 1827, on the death of the Duke of York, he thus alluded to this
vow: — " He had pledged a hate unto me and mine,
He had left to the future nor hope nor choice.
But sealed that hate with a Name Divine,
And now he was dead, and — I couldn't rejoice."
The Duke's speech was delivered, it has always been believed, at the instiga
tion of Lord Eldon. — M.
* The Speaker was Charles Manners Sutton, who held that office, by repeat
ed re-elections, from 1817 until 1835, when he was opposed by Mr. James
Abercrombie, a Whig lawyer (and steward, or sort of upper-servant to the
Duke of Devonshire), and rejected by a majority of ten. The ground for this
opposiiion and rejection was a surmise that Manners Sutton had taken an active
part in forming the Peel Ministry, in December, 1834. He was finally created
Viscount Canterbury. As Speaker, his urbanity of manners and impartiality of
conduct were remembered, when too late, in contrast with his successor Aber
crombie, who was bearish and partial. — M.

208 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
was of great use in London in controlling that spirit of dispu
tation among the deputies to which Irishmen are habitually
prone, and which it required tbe perfect good-humor and ex
cellent disposition of the learned functionary to assuage.)
The House began to fill about eight o'clock. The aspect
of the members was not in general very imposing. Few were
in full dress, and there was little, in the general demeanor of
the representatives of the people, which was calculated to raise
them in my reverence. This absence, or rather studious neg
lect, of ceremony, is perhaps befitting an assembly of the " citi
zens and burgesses in Parliament assembled." I remarked
that some of the members were distinguished for their spirit
of locomotion. The description of " the Falmouth — the heavy
Falmouth coach," given by a jocular Secretary of State,* had
prepared me to expect in a noble Lord a more sedentary habit
of body ; but be displayed a perfect Incapacity to stay still, and
was perpetually traversing the House, as if he wished, by the
levity of his trip and the jauntiness of his movements, to fur
nish a practical reputation of ministerial merriment.
After some matters of form had been disposed of, Mr.
Brougham rose to move, on behalf of the Association, that
counsel should be heard at the bar of the House.t I had seen
* One of Canning's elaborated and therefore rather dull jokes at Lord
Nugent, who was stout in person, having gone over to assist the Spanish lib
erals, in 1822. Lord N., it seems, put himself into the Falmouth mail. — M.
t To do anything like justice to the cyclopsediac knowledge, stin-ing elo
quence, scientific discoveries, literary productions, philosophic researches, and
public services of Henry Brougham, the great law-reformer, would require the
compass of a volume rather than the narrow limit of a note. In another and
future publication, perhaps, I may be tempted to trace his course, and sketch
his character. — Born in Edinburgh (No, 19 St. Andrew's Square), on Septem
ber 19, 1779, he was called to the Scottish bar at an early age, and practised
there until 1807, his friends and companions being Jeffrey, Cockburn, and oth
ers who have attained eminence. Appearing before the House of Lords, in
the Roxbm-gh peerage case, he so much distinguished himself, that he was
strongly urged to leave the Scotch for the English bar, which he did. Hence
forth, his course was one of increasing distinction. In 1810, he entered Par
liament, on the liberal side, and distinguished himself by speaking against the
Orders in Council, which caused the last war between England and America.
In 1820, as Attorney-General to Queen Caroline, he successfully defended her

HENET BEOUGHAM. 209
Mr. Brougham several years before, and immediately observed a
great improvement In his accomplishments as a public speaker.
Nature has not, perhaps, been very favorable to this very emi
nent man In his merely physical configuration. His person is
tall, but not compact or well put together. There Is a loose
ness of limb about him, which takes away from that stability
of attitude which indicates the fixedness of the mind. His
chest Is narrow — he wants that bulk which gives Plunket an
Atlantean massiveness of form, mentioned by Milton as the
property of a great statesman. The countenance of Mr.
Brougham wants symmetry and refinement. His features are
strong, but rather wide. He has a Caledonian prominence of
bone. His complexion Indicates his intellectual habits, and is
" sicklied o'er by tbe pale cast of thought." It seems smoked
by the midnight lamp. His eyes are deeply sunk, but full at
once of intensity and meditation. His voice Is good — It Is
clear, articulate, aud has sufficient melody and depth. He has
the power of raising it to a very high key, without harshness
or discord, and when he becomes impassioned he is neither
hoarse nor slirill.
Such is the outward man; and If he has defects, they are
not so numerous or so glaring as those over which the greatest
orator of antiquity obtained a victory. In his ideal picture of
a public speaker. Homer represents tbe most accomplished
artificer of words as a person with few if any personal attrac
tions. The characteristics of Brougham's oratory are vigor
and passion. He alternates with great felicity. He possesses
In a high degree the art of easy transition from impetuosity to
in her trial before the House of Lords. In 1827, he liberally supported the
Government of Canning, with whom he had a personal quarrel some years
before. In 1830, he was made Lord-Chancellor, on Lord Grey coming into
power, and created Baron Brougham and Vaux. He had strongly supported
Catholic Emancipation, and he now battled, with immense force, against the
Aristocracy, and won Parliamentary Reform for the People. He left office in
November, 1834, when (at the instance of Queen Adelaide?) the Melbourne
Ministry were suddenly dismissed by William IV. — He has not since taken
office, but has carried out Law Reform, has been active in varied literary and
political composition, has made important researches in science, and has devo
ted himself, in the Lords, to the hearing of appeals from the courts of law. He
IS now [1854] in his seventy-fifth year, hale in health and strong in mind. — M.

210 THE CATHOLIO DEPUTATION.
demonstration. His blood does not become so over-heated as
to render It a matter of difficulty for him to return to the tone
and language of familiar discourse — the prevalent tone and
language of the House of Commons. A man who can not rise
beyond it will never make a great figure; but whoever can
not habitually employ it will be accounted a declaimer, and
will fall out of parliamentary favor. Mr. Brougham's gesture
Is at once senatorial and forensic. He uses his arms like an
orator, and his hands like a lawyer. He employs great sweep
of action, and describes segments of circles In his impassioned
movements : here he forgets his forensic habitudes : but when
he is either sneering or sophisticating, he closes his hands
together with a somewhat pragmatical air, or uniting the
points of his forefingers, and, lifting them to a level with his
chair, embodies in his attitude the minute spirit of nisi prius.
If he did this and nothing else, he would bold no higher place
than the eternal Mr. Wetherell in the House.* But what,
taken apart, may appear an imperfection, brings out the nobler
attributes of his mind, and, by the contrast which it presents,
raises his better faculties into relief.
Of the variety, nay, vastness of bis acquirements, it is unne
cessary to say anything : he is a kind of ambulatory encyclo
pedia, and brings bis learning to bear upon every topic on
which he speaks. His diction is highly enriched, or, if I may
so say, embossed with figures executed after the pure clas-
* Sir Charles Wetherell was made Solicitor-General in 1821. Bom in 1770,
he was called to the bar in 1794, and practised for some time at the common
law bar, but settled down, finally, into immense practice in chanceiy. He en
tered Parliament in 1818, and his careless dress, eccenti'ic manner, and extra
ordinary way of speaking made him more noted than eminent. In 1827, when
Copley (now Lord Lyndhurst) was made Master of the Rolls, he was succeeded
as Attorney-General by Wetherell, who resigned, in 1829, on the Catholic Re
lief Bill being brought in without consulting him, the first law officer of the
Crown. He opposed Catholic Emancipation and Parliamentary Reform, and
quitted Parliament when the latter measure w^as passed. In the autumn of
1831, when he was unpopular, as an anti-Reformer, he appeared at Bristol to
hold the Sessions, as Recorder of that city. He was mobbed, narrowly escaping
with his life, and Bristol was the scene of dreadful riots, burning, and other
devastations for the following day and night. He was one of the best equity
lawyers of his time. He died immensely rich, in 1846, aged seventy-six. — M

PEEL AND HAMILTON EOWAN. 211
sical model ; yet there are not, perhaps, any isolated passages
which are calculated to keep a permanent residence in the
recollection of his hearers. He does not venture, like Plunket,
into the loftiest regions of eloquence ; be does not wing his
flight among those towering elevations which are, perhaps, as
baiTen as they are high ; but he holds on with steady conti
nuity in a very exalted course, and never goes out of sight.
His bursts of honest vehemence, and indignant moral reproba
tion, are very fine. He furnished, upon the night on which I
heard him, an admirable exemplification of this commanding
power. I allude to his reply to Mr. Peel upon the charges
made against Hamilton Eowan.*
The Secretary for the Home Department is said to have
delivered, upon this occasion, one of the best speeches which
he ever pronounced In parliament. I own that he greatly sur
passed my expectations. I was prepared, from the perusal of
his speeches, and tbe character which I had heard of him, for
a display of frigid ingenuity, delivered with a dapper neatness
and an ironical conceit. I heard tbe late Mr. Curran say that
"Peel was a mere official Jack-an-apes," and had built my
conceptions of him upon a phrase which, valueless as it may
appear, remained in my memory. But I was disabused of this
erroneous impression by his philippic against the Association.
* Peel was hurried, by the ardor of debate, when denouncing the Cath61ic
Association, to accuse that body of having presented an address to Archi
bald Hamilton Rowan, " an attainted traitor." Mr. Rowan had been Secretary
to the United Irishmen. In 1794, he was tried for libel, defended by Curran
(in one of the most eloquent speeches ever made, even by him), convicted, fined,
and imprisoned. While suffering this sentence, he ascertained that his com
plicity in the intended " rebellion" had been disclosed to the Executive, and
then, as is subsequently told, he escaped to France, and thence to America,
where he maintained himself by the labor of his head and hands. Lord Chan
cellor Clare secured his pardon, but did not live to see Rowan's return. In
1805, he came back to Ireland, was formally arraigned at the bar of justice, be
fore Lord Clonmel, and pleaded the King's pardon, briefly but eloquently ex
pressing his gratitude for the boon. He retired into the bosom of domestic
life, living on his large fortune. When Peel went out of his way to assail him,
Mr. Rowan, though then seventy-five years old, immediately went from Ireland
to London, to call him to account, but Peel fi-ankly withdrew the expressions,
and they parted, with a mutual sense of " satisfaction," other than that sought
by the veteran. — M.

212 THE CATHOLIO DEPUTATION.
I do not mean to say that Mr. Peel has not a good deal of
elaborate self-sufiiciency. He is perpetually Indulging in en
comiums upon his own manliness and candor — and certainly
there is much frankness in his voice and bearing — but any
man who observes the expedients with which he endeavors to
effect his escape from the grasp of some powerful opponent,
will be convinced that there is a good deal of lubricity about
him. He constantly advances arguments of the fallacy of
which he can not fail to be -conscious, and which would be a-
burlesque upon reasoning if they were not uttered from the
Treasury Bench.
As a speaker, be should not be placed near Brougham, or
Canning, or Plunket, although be rises far beyond that medi
ocrity to which In Ireland we are In tbe habit of condemning
him. His language is not powerful, but it is perfectly clear,
and uniformly correct. I observed, indeed, that his sentences
were much more compact and unbroken, and their several
parts better linked together, than those of Mr. Brougham ; but
the- one evolves his thoughts in a lengthened and winding
chain, while the other (having a due fear of the parenthetical
before his eyes) presents an obvious idea in a brief and simple
form, and never ventures to frame any massive or extended
series of phrase. His gesture is, generally speaking, exceed
ingly appropriate, and If I found any fault with it, I should
censure it for its minute adherence to grace. His hands are
remarkably white and well formed, and are exhibited with an
ostentatious care. He stands erect, and, to use a technical
expression employed by French dancers, " a-plomb." Thic
firmness of attitude gives him that appearance of determina
tion, which is wanting perhaps in Mr. Brougham.
-I do not like his physiognomy as an orator. He has a
handsome face, but it is suffused with a smile of sleek self
complacency, which It Is impossible to witness without dis
taste. He has also a trick of closing his eyes, which may
arise from their weakness, but which has something mental In
its expression ; aud, however innocent he may be of all offen
sive purpose, is Indicative of superciliousness and contempt.
I doubt not he found it of use iu Ireland among the menials

PEEL AND O'CONNELL. 213
of authority, and acquired this habit at the Castle. In one,
the best passage In his speech, and I believe the best he ever
uttered, he divested himself of those defects.
Upon the moral propriety of his attack upon Hamilton
Rowan it is unnecessary to say anything. The misfortunes
of that excellent gentleman ought not to have been pressed
into the service. After every political convulsion, a Lethe
should be permitted to flow upon the public mind, and a sin
of thirty years' standing ought not only to be pardoned, but
forgotten. Mr. Peel, however, could not resist the temptation
of dragging upon the stage a man whose white hair should
hide every imperfection upon his head. Laying aside all
consideration of the generosity evinced by Mr. Peel in the
selection of the topic. It must be acknowledged that be pro
nounced his Invective with great and very successful force.
He became heated with victory, and, cheered as he was
repeatedly by his multitudinous partisans, turned suddenlj'
toward the part of the house where the deputies were seated,
and looking triumphantly at Mr. O'Connell, with whom he for
got for a "moment that he had been once involved in a personal
quarrel,* shook his hand with scornful exultation, and asked
* In 1815, the late Sir Robert Peel, then Secretary for Ireland, consid
ered himself insulted by some expressions in a speech made by Mr. O'Connell,
and challenged him. It was agreed thS-t the duel should take place in Fi'ance,
whither Peel went, but, as O'Connell was in London, en route to the assigned
battle-ground, the object of his journey transpired, the police interfered, he
was bound over to keep the peace, and the duel was thus prevented. (The
late Dr. England, Catholic Bishop of Charleston, S. C, who then resided at
Cork, pointed out the conjunct sin and folly of duelling, when he next met
O'Connell, and induced him to give a solemn promise that, under no circum
stances would he again appeal to arms.) It was whispered, at the time, that
O'Connell might have passed over to France, undetected, if he had not delayed
in London, to receive news of the health of his wife, whom he had left very ill
in Dublin. Another public character had declined a challenge at the same
time, on the plea of his daughter's illness, and the two-fold occurrence elicited
the following impromptu fi-om Charles Kendal Bushe : —
"Two heroes of Erin, abhorrent of slaughter.
Improved on the Hebrew command —
One honored his wife and the other his daughter.
That ' their days might be long in the land.' "
In Willis's " Pencillings by the Way" (one of the most delightful books of trav-

214 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
whether the House required any better evidence than the
address of the Association to " an attainted traitor." The
phrase was well uttered, and the effect as a piece of oratory
was great and powerful. But for the want of moral dignity, I
should say that it was very finely executed.*
We hung down our heads for a moment and quailed, under
the consciousness of defeat. But It was only temporary. Mr.
Brougham was supplied with various facts of great importance
on tbe instant, and Inflicted upon Mr. Peel a terrible retrlhu-
tion. His reply to the minister was, I understand, as efi'ective
as his celebrated retort upon the Queen's letters. He showed
that the Government had extended to Mr. Rowan conspicuous
marks of favor, and reproached Mr. Peel with bis want of
nobleness in opening a wound which had been so long closed,
and In turning the disasters of an honorable man Into a rhetor
ical resource. He got hold of the good feeling of the House.
Their virtuous emotions, and those high instincts which even
the spirit of party can not entirely suppress, were at once mar
shalled upon bis side. Conscious of his advantage, he rushed
upon his antagonist and burled him to the ground. He dis
played upon this occasion the noblest qualities of his elo
quence — fierce sarcasm, indignant remonstrance, exalted sen
timent, and glowing elocution. He brought his erudition to
elled observation and personal gossip) a different version of this epigram is
given, as related by Moore, not so neatly turned as the above. The O'Connell
family were very angry with Moore for having repeated the lines ; and Mrs.
Fitzsimon, one of O'Connell's daughters, recorded her indignation in some
powerful stanzas, written in the album of Samuel Lover, the Irish lyrist. — Bushe,
the real delinquent, had a knack in this way. Once upon a time, the members
of the Leinster bar were prevented, by a -^-iolent storm, from crossing a feny at
Ballinlaw. Mr. Cassar Colclough, heedless of danger, flung his saddle-bags into
the boat, and desired the man to row him over. Bushe thus caught him in an
impromj)tu — " While meaner souls the tempest keeps in awe.
Intrepid Csesar, crossing Ballinlaw,
Shouts to the boatman, shivering in his rags,
'You carry Ciesar and his — saddle-bags !' " — M.
* I had intended to introduce a sketch of Mr. Rowan's character into this ar
tide, but found that I could not compress it within its appropriate limits. The
reader will find it appended in a separate article.

MEMORIALS OF PEEL. 215
his aid, and illustrated his defence by a quotation from Cicero,
in wbicli the Eotnan estenitates the faults of those who were
engaged on Pompey's side. The passage was exceedingly
apposite, but was delivered, pei'haps, with too dolorous and
lacrymatory a tone. A man should scarcely weep over a
quotation. But altogether the reply was magnificent, and
made the minister bite the ,dust.* With this comfortable
reflection we left the house.
* The late Sir Robert Peel, bom in 1788, was the son of a man who had be
come a millionaire, as an enterprising- cotton-manufacturer. Educated for
political life, young Peel entered Parliament in 1809 (having previously had
the unusual distinction of winning -¦ " double-first class" degree at Oxford),
and soon was noticed as a well-informed and judicious speaker and worker.
In 1810, he was made Colonial undei"-secretary, Percival being Premier. From
1812 to 1818, he was Chief-Secretary for Ireland. In 1822, he succeeded
Addington (Lord Sidmouth) as Home Secretaiy, and, in that capacity, com
menced the mitigation and consolidation of the criminal law. When Canning
became Premier, in 1827, Peel and five other Cabinet ministers resigned. In
1828, when Wellington formed his ministry, Peel was his Home Secretai-y, and,
as such, introduced and carried the Catholic Relief Bill in 1829, thereby incur
ring the enmity of the great Tory cxclusionist party. From 1830 to 1834, Peel
headed the opposition to Lord Grey's Reform Ministry, and was summoned
fi-om Italy, at the close of the latter year, to form a ministry which was broken
up in April, 1835. The Whigs i-esumed office, and retained it until the sum
mer of 1841, when Lord Melbourne had to relinquish his position aa Premier,
and Peel succeeded him, amid general hope, from public confidence in his ad
ministrative faculties, that he would extricate the counti-y from the financial and
other difficulties in which the Melbourne Cabinet had involved it. He imposed
an Income and Property tax (the best, if fairly assessed), and in 1842, com
menced his system of Free Trade, by sweeping away hundreds of imposts —
most of them small, but all vexatious. In 1845, he announced Free Trade in
Com, to the joy of millions, who were led to expect more from it than they
have yet received, and to the dismay and anger of the landlords and farmers,
who had looked on Peel as their great bulwark. The Com Laws were abol
ished in Jime, 1846, and, immediately after, the Whigs and the Protectionists
uniting to oppose Peel, beat him on the Irish Coercion Bill, and forced him to
retire. On June 29, 1846, he announced the dissolution of his ministry, in
one of the ablest speeches he had ever delivered, and quitted office, the peo
ple's favorite. For the following four years, his influence in public affairs was
immense. He was understood not to desire a return to office — but he wielded
immense moral power. On June 29, 1850, he was thrown off his horse, while
riding up Constitution Hill (London) and died from the effects of the fall on
July 2, 1850, mourned by the nation. All felt his loss — from the sovereign to
the peasant. From the time that he threw off the trammels of party, Peel waa

216 THE CATHOLIC DErUTATIOIT.
It is not, of course, my intention to detail every circum
stance of an interesting kind which occurred in the course of
this political excursion.' From a crowd of materials, I select
what is most deserving of mention. I should not omit the
mention of a dinner given to the deputies by Mr. Brougham.
He invited us to his house upon the Saturday after our arrival,
and gave the Irish embassy a very splendid entertainment.
Some of the first men in England were of the party. There
were four Dukes at table. I had never witnessed an assem
blage of so much rank, and surveyed with intense curiosity
the distinguished host and his illustrious guests. It is unne
cessary to observe that Mr. Brougham went through the rou
tine of convivial form with dignified facility and grace. It
was to his mind that I directed my chief attention, with a
view to compare him, in his hours of relaxation, with the men
of eminence with whom I had conversed in my own country.
The first circumstance that struck me was the entire absence
of effort, and the indifference about display. I perceived that
he stretched his faculties out, after the exhaustion of profes
sional and parliamentary labor, in a careless listlessness;
and, if I may so say, threw his mind upon a couch. Curran,
G-rattan, and Bushe, were the best talkers I had ever wit
nessed. The first (and I heard a person make the same
remark in London) was certainly the most eloq^uent man
whose conversation I ever had an opportunity of enjoying.
But his serious reflections bore the character of harangue, and
bis wit, with all its brilliancy, verged a little upon farce. He
was so fond, indeed, of introducing dialogue into his stories,
that at times his conversation assumed the aspect of a dra
matic exhibition. There was, perhaps, too much tension of
the intellect in those masterpieces of mirth and pathos, in
which he appeared to be under tbe alternate influence of
Momus and of Apollo. The conversation of Mr. Grattan was
not of an after-dinner cast. You should have walked with
him among the woods of Tinnahinch, and listened to his recol-
emphatically, the great English statesman of his time. Amid the absorbing
cares of public life, he was the pati'on and friend of art, literature, and science
and those who devote their minds to these ennobling pursuits. — M.

BEOITGHAm's DmNEE-PAETT. 217
lections of a better day by the sound of the lulling and roman
tic waters of those enchanting groves, in ivhich, it is said, he
studied the arts of elocution in his youth, and through which
he delighted to wander in the illuminated sunset of his glo
rious age. It was necessary that his faculties should be
thrown into a swing before they should come into full play.
He poured out fine sentiments in glittering epigrams. His
mind became antithetical from continued habit, but it was
necessary that it should be thrown into excitement to bring it
into action. It was in sketches of character that he excelled ;
but you should give him time and leisure for the completion
of his miniatures. Bushe  But I am deviating from
my theme.
To return to Mr. Brougham, he is, perhaps, more negligent
and heedless of what be says than any of these eminent per
sons to whom I have alluded, and flings his opinions into
phrase without caring into what shape they may be moulded.
I remember to have read an article in the Edinburgh Eeview,
upon Curran's life, that eminent men in England never make
any effort to shine in conversation ; and I saw an illustration
of the remark at Mr. Brougham's table. He did not tell a
single story — except, indeed, that he mentioned a practical
joke which had been played upon Joseph Hume,* who
takes things " au pic de la lettre," by passing some strange,
uncouth person upon him as Mr. O'Connell. The latter sat
between the Dukes of Devonshiret and Leinster. It was the
* Joseph Hume, bom in Scotland in 1777, obtained a large fortune by con
tracts in India, during the Mahratta war. He returned in 1808, and entered
Parliament in 1812. With slight intermission, he has been in the Commons
ever since, and, from his superior length of service as a member, is now enti
tled to the Nestorian title of" Father of the House." Mr. Hume's great merit
is that he applied himself, session after session, to correct the extravagant
expenditure of successive Governments. At first, he was a Tory, but, for th^
last five-and-thirty years, has been a Liberal — so much so, indeed, that, on one
occasion, he stated in Parliament that " he would vote that black was white,
if it would serve his party!'' As a speaker, Mr. Hume is much below par; as
a man of business, industrious and good tempered, he has no superior. — M.
t The Duke of Devonshire, one of the wealthiest peers in England, has very
large estates in the South of Ireland, which are let at low rents, and well ad
ministered. He is J ow in his sixty-fourth year, and has retired from public
Vol,. IL— 10

218 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
place of honor, and the learned gentleman filled it without
airs or affectation. In all his intercourse with the great in
London, I remarked that he comported himself in a manner
perfectly becoming his character and station in his own coun
try. I was glad to find that, unlike Sir Pertinax, " he could
stand straight in the presence of a great man." The atten
tion of the company was very much fixed upon him. But he
spoke little. I remember Mr. Moore telling me an anecdote
of Mrs. Siddons, which is not unillustrative of the scene. A
large party were invited to meet her. She remained silent, as
is her wont, and disappointed the expectations of the whole
company, who watched for every syllable that should escape
her lips. At length, however, being asked if she would have
some Burton ale, she replied, with a sepulchral intonation, that
" she liked ale vastly."* To this interesting remark the dis
play of her intellectual powers was confined. I do not think
that Mr. O'Connell, upon this occasion, gave utterance to any
more profound or sagacious observation.
Nearly opposite to him sat Sir Francis Burdett and Mr.
Lambton.t The latter seemed to me to watch Mr. O'Connell
life — which he never cared for. He was spoken of, repeatedly, as being about
to accept the office of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, but the only public situation,
in which he appeared, was that of Ambassador to Russia, in 1826, at the cor
onation of the Emperor Nicholas. He is a well-known patron of the fine arts,
and his collection of sculpture, paintings, and books, at one of his seats (Chats-
worth, in Derbyshire), is world-famed. He strongly advocated Catholic Eman
cipation, — M.
¦* I remember mentioning this anecdote to the late Mr. Maturin, who said
" The voice of Mrs. Siddons, like St. Paul's bell, should never toll except for
tho death of kings." [Lockhart's Life of Scott records an instance of this, at
the table of the Ariosto of the North, where Mrs. Siddons, in an eminently
tragic voice, thus addressed a servant: "I asked for water, boy^ — you've
brought me beer." — M.]
, t John George Lamb'ton, bom April, 1792, entered Parliament early, and
always opposed the Tory party. Lord Grey was his father-in-law, but Lamb-
ton did not follow that haughty aristoci"at's example as regards Canning, whose
Ministry he supported. In 1828, he was created Baron Durham. In 1830,
he became a member of Lord Grey's Ministiy, and was understood to have
proposed a much larger measure of Parliamentary Reform than Lord Grey
woidd sanction. Lord Durham became leader of the movement party, and his
assumption of the office of Premier was considered at hand. But Lord Grey

DUKE OF SUSSEX. 219
with a very unremitting vigilance. He hardly spoke himself.
His air is foreign ; he is full of intelligence, and looks like a
picture, by Murillo, of a young Spanish Jesuit who has just
completed his novitiate. At the other end of the table sat the
celebrated Mr. Scarlett,* who is at English nisi-prius facile
princeps. I thought I could perceive the wile of a lawyer in
his watchful and searching eye —
" He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the thoughts of men."
His smile, too, was perhaps a little like that of Cassius. He
said little — altogether, there was not as much alertness in the
dialogue as in the champagne.
Th'B Duke of Sussex seemed to me the only person who
exhibited much hilarity of spirit. There is a good deal of
buoyancy in the temperament of his Royal Highness. He
speaks with great correctness and fluency ; is perfectly kind
and affable ; and laughs with all his heart at his friend's jokes
as well as at his own. If the Duke of Sussex were our Lord
Lieutenant (as I hope he yet may be), he would put us into good
humor with each other in a month.t I Avould substitute Ober-
quitted office in 1834, and, in the year after (to get him out of the way?) Lord
Durham was sent to Russia as Ambassador, where he remained for two years.
In 1838, he was sent to Canada, as Governor-General, with almost dictatorial
powers, in the use of which he was not supported by the Melbourne Ministry
in England, whereupon he returned home, the same year. He died, July,
1840. In debate he was a good speaker, but an air of hauteur duUed the
effects of his most impassioned language. — M.
* Sir James Scarlett, then a whig, but afterward Attorney-General under
the Wellington Administration. He eventually became Lord Abinger, and
Chief Baron of the Exchequer. — M.
t Augustus Frederick, Duke of Sussex, was sixth son of George III., and
much ofjfended his father by contracting marriage, when a minor, with Lady
Augusta Murray, daughter of a Scottish Earl. (One of the newspapers of the
day stated, that " Lady Augusta soon became pregnant, and returned to Eng
land ; the Duke of Sussex did tlie same.") This union, which took place in
Italy, was confirmed, on their return to England, and two children were " the
consekence of that manoover," to use the classic words of the elder Mr. Weller.
One of these was the late Sir Augustus d'Este, who unsuccessfully sought the
Dukedom on his father's death, the other (who, when I first saw her, in 1828,
was one of the finest women in England) was Mademoiselle d'Este, who, in
middle age, married Sir Thomas Wilde, created Lord Truro and Chancellor of

220 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
on's whistle for Alecto's horn.* I should like to hear the hon
est and cordial laugh of the Duke of Sussex at an aggregate
levee of O-atholics and Protestants at the Castle. I should
like to hear the echoes of St. Patrick's Hall,t taking up the
royal mirth in a long and loud reverberation. What might,
peradventure, be an excess of vivacity in a gentleman, would
be condescending pleasantry in a prince.
I understood, at Mr. Brougham's, that it was intended to
give a public dinner to the Catholic deputies, at which the
leading advocates of Emancipation were to be present. Much
preparation was made for this festival of liberality, but it was
afterward conceived that it would be more judicious- upon the
part of the friends of religious liberty not to provoke th^ir an
tagonists into a reaction, which it was thought likely might be
produced. The idea was abandoned ; but, in order to give the
deputies an opportunity of expressing their sentiments in pub
lic, the British Catholics held a general meeting at the Free
masons' Hall. ,
The Duke of Norfolk was in the chair.f The assembly was
England in 1850. — The Prince's marriage was dissolved by the Prerogative
Court, and the union accordingly ended in separation. At the age of
twenty-eight. Prince Augustus was created Duke of Sussex, with an Edlowance
of twelve thousand pounds sterling a year, afterward raised to twenty thousand
pounds sterling a year — which he always complained was too small I He sided
with the Whig party — as much as a Prince could. He laid himself out for pop
ularity, and, at public dinners and charitable meetings, was liberal in giving —
his speeches. He had a fine library, and had accumulated a magnificent col
lection of Bibles, in various languages and of various editions. Some tim'e
before his death, he wedded the rich widow of a city knight, bearing the illus
trious name of — Buggins ! She has since been created Duchess of Inverness.
Bom January, 1773, the Duke of Sussex died April, 1843, aged seventy. His
pompous manner would have disgusted the Irish in a week, if he had been
sent to Dublin as their Viceroy. — M.
* In Wieland's Oberon, at the sound of a magic whistle, laughter is instanta
neously produced; a merriment takes the place of strife.
t A spacious apartment in Dublin Castle, in which Royalty (personally or by
proxy) holds levees and drawing-rooms, and where the Installation of Knights
of St. Patrick generally takes place. — M. ¦*
t The Duke of Norfolk, in 1825, was a stout, red-faced gentleman, looking
very like a London Aldennan, accustomed to civic banquets. He was as plain
in his manners as in his appearance. Indeed, it was reported that he had been

221
not as numerous as I had expected — it was in a great measure
composed of Irish. Many persons were deterred from attend
ing hy the title of the meeting, which seemed to confine it to
Roman Catholics. In consequence of the impression that Prot
estants were not invited to assist in these proceedings, few of
the Parliamentary supporters of Emancipation attended. Mr.
Coke, of Norfolk, who sat next to the chairman, was almost the
only English Protestant of distinction whom I observed at the
meeting.* I believe, however, that an anxiety to hear Mr.
O'Connell, induced a great number of the literary men attached
to the periodical and daily press to attend.
Mr. O'Connell appeared to me extremely solicitous about the
impression which he should produce, and prepared aud arranged
his topics with unusual care. In public meetings in Ireland,
he is so confident in his powers, that he gives himself little
trouble in the selection of his materials, and generally trusts
to his emotions for his harangues.t He is, on that account, oc-
known as " Mr. Howard," a wine-merchant, in one of the streets off the Strand,
in London, before the death of "the dirty Duke,'' without legitimate male
issue, drove " all the blood of all the Howards" up to fever-heat, in expectation
of turning out next of kin. The Duke, with the uncleanly soubriquet, had
turned Protestant, in order to sit in Parliament. The present Duke has also
abjured the faith of his ancestors. The " dirty Duke" never underwent volun
tary ablution, but, once or twice a week, when dead-drunk, was stripped, laid
upon a table, soaped, scrubbed, and towelled, into a state of comparative clean
liness. — The Dukedom, conferred in 1483, is the oldest in England, and its
owner is therefore Premier Duke. He is also Hereditary Earl-Marshal, and,
as such, has the regtdation of the coronation ceremonies, and attests the signa
ture of the Sovereign to the documents wherein Peers, Peeresses, Privy Coun
cillors, and others, are invited to participate in the pageant. — M.
* Thomas William Coke, of Holkham, in the county of Norfolk, was a de
scendant of Sir Edward Coke, the great lawyer, and will be chiefly remembered
for the extent and success of his improvements in English agriculture, by which
he raised the value of his estates from two thousand to twenty thousand pounds
sterhng a year. He was of the extreme liberal party, from whom he presented
so many remonstrant addresses to George III., that his Majesty jocosely said,
" Coke, if you bring me another of these, I'll certainly knight you" — a severe
threat to a man who prided himself on his old family, had declined a baronetcy
as too low, and claimed a dormant earldom. His friends the Whigs, with
whom he had always voted, created him Earl of Leicester in 1837, when he
was eighty-five years old. He died in June, 1842, aged ninety.^ — M.
t The character of O'Connell's eloquence has never been clearly indicated.

222 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
casionally desultory and irregular. But there is no man more
capable of lucid exposition, when he previously deliberates
upon the order in which he should array the topics upon which
he intends to dwell. He undertook, on this occasion, the very
laborious task of tracing the progress of the penal code, and
epitomized in some measure the history of his country. For
the first hour he was, perhaps, a little encumbered with small de
tails; but when he advanced into the general consideration of
the grievances under which the great body of the people are
doomed to labor — when he painted the insolence of the domi
nant faction — when he showed the effects of tbe penal code
brought to his own "door — he seized with an absolute dominion
upon the sympathies of his acclaiming auditors, and poured the
full tide of his own emotions into their hearts. I did not greatly
heed the results of Mr. O'Connell's oratory upon the gi'eat bulk
of his audience. Many a big drop, compounded of heat and
patriotism, of tears and of perspiration, stood upon the rude and
honest faces that were cast in true Hibernian mould, and were
raised toward the glory of Ireland with a mixed expression of
wonder and of love. I was far more anxious to detect the feel
ing produced upon the literary and English portion of the au-
diehce. It was most favorable.
Mr. Charles Butler, near whom I happened to sit, and whom
Its leading feature was intense earnestness. Whatever his style, and it would
vary a dozen times in the same speech, he always had a pui-pose. He was not
a man to string words together into pretty sentences, as women string beads of
coral, but he spoke with a will and with an aim. His Irish auditors expected
to be amused as well as roused, and O'Connell entertained as well as excited
them. He had dropped his plummet into the Irish heart, and sounded its re
motest depths. ' He has been compared, at various times, to the great orators
whom Ireland has produced ; but he resembled none of them singly. He had
less imagination than Curran, less philosophy than Burke, less wit than Can
ning, less rhetoric than Sheil, less classicahty than Bushe, less eloquence than
Plunket, less pathos than Gi-attan ; but he had more power than any of them.
His language was forcible, even when he was most playful. And, when ad
dressing an Irish audience, he applied himself to charm them, there was such
an alternation of style — now soaring to the loftiest, and now subsiding to the
most familiar — that he carried all hearts with him, until the listeners seemed
under the spell of an enchanter, moved to anger or to mirth even as he might
desire. This was to be indeed a great orator, and this was O'Connell. — M.

ME. sheil's speech. 223
I should be disposed to account a severe but excellent critic,
was greatly struck. He several times expressed his admira
tion of the powers of the speaker. The applause of such a man
is worth that of a " whole theatre of others." Mr. Coke, also,
whose judgment is, I understand, held in verj^ great estima
tion, and who has witnessed the noblest displays of Parliament
ary eloquence, intimated an equally high opinion. Immedi
ately under Mr. O'Connell there was an array, and a very for
midable one, of the delegates from the press. They appeared
to me to survey Mr. O'Connell with a good deal of supercilious
distaste at the opening of his speech ; and, although some
among them persevered to the last in their intimations of na
tional disrelish, and shrugged their shoulders at "Irish elo
quence,'' the majority surrendered their prejudices to their
good feelings, and ultimately concurred iu the loud plaudits
with which Mr. O'Connell concluded his oratio^. It occupied
nearly three hours and a half.
Mr. O'Hanlon succeeded Mr. O'Connell. He spoke well,
but the auditory were exhausted, and began to break up. Less
attention was paid to Mr. O'Hanlon than he would have re
ceived at a more opportune moment. The excitation produced
by Mr. O'Connell, the lateness of the hour, and the recollec
tions of dinner, were potent impediments to rhetorical effect.
Mr. Sheil rose under similar disadvantages. He cast that
sort of look about him which I have witnessed in an actor when
he surveys an empty house. The echo produced by the dimi
nution of the crowd drowned his voice, which, being naturally
of a harsh quality, requires great management, and, in order to
produce any oratorical impression, must be kept under the control
of art. Mr. Sheil became disheartened, and lost his command
over his throat. He grew loud and indistinct. He also fell into
the mistake of laying aside his habitual cast of expression and
of thought, and, in place of endeavoring to excite the feelings
of his auditory, wearied them with a laborious detail of unin
teresting facts. He failed to produce any considerable impres
sion excepting at the close of his speech, in which, after dwel
ling upon the great actions which were achieved by the Catho
lic ancestors of some of the eminent men around him, he intro-

224 the CATHOLtO DEPUTATION.
dnced Jean of Arc prophesying to Talbot the observation of
his illustrious name, and the exclusion of his posterity from the
councils of his country.*
I should not omit to mention the speech delivered by Lord
Stourton at this meeting. It was easy to collect from his man
ner that he was not in the habit of addressing a large assem
bly, but the sentiments to which he gave utterance were high
and manly, and becoming a British nobleman who had been
spoliated of his rights. His language was not only elegant
and refined, but adorned with imagery of an original cast, de
rived from those sciences with which his Lordship is said to
be familiar.t Some of the deputies dined with him after the
meeting. They were sumptuously entertained.
I had now become more habituated to the display of patri
cian magnificence in England, and saw the exhibition of its
splendor without surprise. Tet I confess that at Norfolk- house,
where the Duke did Mx. O'Connell, Lord Killeen, and others
of our deputation, the honor to invite them, and, in compliment
to our cause, brought together an assemblage of men of the
highest rank and genius in England, I was dazzled with the
splendor and gorgeousness of an entertainment to which I had
seej) no parallel. Norfolk-house is one of the finest in London.
The interior, which is in the style prevalent about eighty years
ago in England, realizes the notions which one forms of a pal
ace. It was indeed occupied at one time by some members of
the royal family ; and the Duke told us that the late King
[George III.] was born in the room in which we dined. We
passed through a series of magnificent apartments, rich with
crimson and fretted with gold. There was no glare of exces
sive light in this vast and seemingly endless mansion; and the
massive lamps which were suspended from the embossed and
gilded ceilings, diffused a shadowed illumination, and left the
* Mr. Sheil, whose speech at this meeting was a failure — the patience of
his audience having been exhausted before he rose — adi-oitly attempts here to
explain away the fact. From some cause or other, his voice, naturally shrill,
almost wholly failed him, and his auditors were greatly disappointed. — M.
+ The Lord Stourton here mentioned was the seventeenth Baron of that name,
the peerage bearing date 1448. The family is Catholic. — M.

the duke of noefolk. 225
distance in the dusk. The transition to the great chamber
where the company were assembled, and which was glowing
with light, presented a brilliant and imposing contrast. Here
we found the Duke of Norfolk, surrounded by persons of high
distinction. Among the company were the Dukes of Sussex,
Devonshire, and Leinster, Lord Grey, Lord Fitzwilliam, Lord
Shrewsbury, Lord Donoughmore, Lord Stourton, Lord Clifford,
Lord Nugent, Lord Arundel, Sir Francis Burdett, Mr. Butler,
Mr. Abercrombie, Mr. Blunt, Mr. Denman, and other persons of
eminence and fame.*
The Duke of Norfolk came forward to meet us, and gave us
a cordial and cheerful welcome. This amiable nobleman is
distinguished by the kindness and goodness of his manners,
which bespeak an excellent and unassuming spirit, and through
all the political intercourse which we had with him the great
question, in which he feels so deep an interest, manifested a
shrewd sound sense, and a high and intense anxiety for the
success of the great cause of religious liberty, from which very
beneficial results have already ensued. He has been very
instrumental in effecting a junction between the English and
Irish Roman Catholics, and has thus conferred a great service
upon both. We were received by him with the most gracious
and unaffected urbanity.
I was struck with the perfect freedom from authoritativeness
which characterized most of the eminent men who were placed
about me. There is among the petty aristocracy of Ireland
* Of these. Lords Grey, Shrewsbury, Donoughmore, Clifford, Arundel, Mr.
Butler, and Mr. Blunt, have departed this life. Mr. Abercrombie, then a very
obscure man (who worked himself up, from being the Duke of Devonshire's
steward), used his employer's interest to get him made Chief Baron of the Ex
chequer in Scotland, at four thousand pounds sterling a yeai-. It was so much
a sinecure, that, in the thirty months he held it, he only tried four cases, thus
receiving ten thousand pounds for doing nothing. The sinecure was abolished,
and Abercrombie was compensated by a pension of two thousand pounds, which
was suspended when he was made Speaker of the House of Commons in 1837
(salary six thousand pounds a year, and one thousand pounds more for a house),
and, after two years' service, retired on a pension of four thousand pounds for
his own life and that of his son, and a peerage as Baron Dumferline. What
renders this more strange is, that this man had boorish manners, no learning, no
eloquence, nothing but the Duke of Devonshire's patronage to push him on.- M.
10*

226 THE catholic deputation.
infinitely more arrogance of port and look than I observed
among the first men of the British empire. Certain of our
colonial aristocracy are far more bloated and full-blown with a
notion of their own importance. The reason is obvious. The
former rest in security upon their unquestionable title to re
spect. Their dignity fits them like an accustomed garment.
But men who are raised but to a small elevation, on which
they hold a dubious ground, feel it necessary to impress their
consequence upon others by an assumption of superiority which
is always offensive, and generally absurd. Lord Fitzwilliam
was the person with whom I was disposed to be most pleased.
This venerable nobleman carries, with a gray head, a young
and fresh heart. He may be called the old Adam of the
political world ; and England might well exclaim to her faith
ful servant, in the language of Orlando —
" Oh, good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times.
When none will sweat but for promotion."
It is impossible to look upon this amiable and dignified
patrician of the olden stamp, without a feeling of affectionate
admiration for his pure and distinguished patriotism and the
warm love of his country, which lives (if I may so say) under
the ashes of age, and requires but to be stirred to emit the
flashes of its former fire. The natural apathy incidental to his
time of life, appears habitually to prevail over him ; but speak
to him of the great interests of the empire — speak to him of
that measure which at an earlier period he was delegated
by his sovereign to complete — speak to him of Ireland, and
through the dimness that loads his eye, a sudden illumination
will break forth. For Ireland he entertains a kind of pa
ternal tenderness. He reverted with a Nestorian pride to
the period of his own government ; and mentioned that he
had preserved the addresses which he had received from
the Eoman Catholic body as among the best memorials of
his political life. That he should live long enough to see
the emancipation of the Irish people, seemed to be the wish
nearest to his heart. It does one good — it is useful in a moral

LOED GREY. 227
point of view, to approacli such a person as Lord Fitzwilliam,
and to feel that there is in public men such a thing as a pure
and disinterested anxiety for the benefit of mankind, and that
the vows of all politicians are not, whatever we may be disposed
to think, " as false as dicers' oaths."
In describing the impression produced upon me by Lord
Fitzwilliam, I have mentioned the result of my observation at
Mr. Ponsonby's, where the deputies afterward met him, as well
as at Norfolk house. Lord Grey also dined at Mr. Ponsonby's,
where I had a better opportunity of noting him.* He is some-
* Charles, Earl Grey, born in 1764, was M. F. for his native county of
Northumberland, almost as soon as he attained his majority. He soon display
ed ability, as a debater on the liberal side, and was associated with Burke,
Sheridan, and others, as one of the managers of the impeachment of Warren
Hastings. He went beyond Fox in his democratical opinions. On Pitt's death,
in 1806, when " All the Talents" formed a Cabinet, of which Fox was the ac
tual, while the Duke of Portland was the nominal head, Mr. Grey (who now
bore the honorary title of Viscount Howick, his father having been made Earl
Grey in 1802) took office as First Lord of the Admiralty. In October, 1806,
Lord Howick succeeded Fox as Foreign Secretary, but the Ministiy soon
broke up, aud, on the death of his father in 1807, he went to the Upper House,
as Earl Grey, and waimly defended Queen Caroline in 1820. He remained
out of office until November 1830, but on two or three occasions, when a Coa
lition ministry was talked of, there were negotiations (always ending in failure)
to bring in Lord Grey. Hia personal pride intervened — as he wanted first
place, or none. This, no doubt, made him strongly oppose Canning's Ministry,
in 1827 — it was "most tolerable and not to be endured" that a mere common
er should be Prime Minister, while Earl Grey was ready and anxious for the
office ! At last, in 1830, he obtained the prize — because Parliamentary Reform
was needed, and, as Mr. Grey, he had suggested a plan some five-and-thirty
years before. After a great struggle. Reform was granted — more than Grey
actually thought prudent to bestow (having such u. horror of democratic in-
•roads that he once publicly declared that " he would stand by his order") but
less than his son-in-law, Lord Durham, thought was wise and just. In July,
1834, he resigned office, and took no further part in politics. He died, July,
1845, aged eighty-one. As Minister of the Crown, he had one overpowering
fault, which Peel was eminently free from — that of nepotism. It really appeared
as if the object of his taking office was to provide for his family, his connections,
for every one named Grey. For this he was constantly baited by Cobbett, who
published what he called " The Grey List," stating the various offices to which
Grey had been appointed, giving the name of each official, and showing that
they were the recipients of about one hundred and seventy thousand poimds
sterling a year — all, but twenty thousand pounds sterling, being derived &oin

228 THE CATHOLIC DEPUTATION.
what silent and reserved. It is the fashion among Tories to
account him contemptuous and haughty ; but I can not coincide
with them. He has, indeed, a lofty bearing, but it is not at
all artificial. It is the aristocracy of virtue as well as rank.
There is something uncompromising, and perhaps stern as
well as inflexible in his aspect. Tall, erect, and collected in
himself, he carries the evidences of moral and intellectual
ascendency impressed upon him, and looks as if he knew him
self to be, in the proudest sense which the poet has attached
to the character, not only a great but an honest man. And
why should he not look exactly what he is 1 Why should he
not wrap himself in the consciousness of his political integrity,
and seem to say, " mea virtute involvo," while so many others,
who were once the companions of his journey, and who turned
aside into a more luxuriant road, in taking a retrospect, as the
close of life is drawing near, of the mazy course which they
have trod, behold it winding through a rich and champagne
country, and occasionally deviating into low but not unpro
ductive declivities? This eminent man, in looking back from
the point of moral elevation on which he stands, will trace his
path in one direct and unbroken line — through a lofty region
which has been barren of all but fame, and from which no
allurement of ease, or of profusion, could ever induce him to
depart. Lord Grey has a touch of sadness upon him, which would
look dissatisfaction to a placeman's eye ; but there is nothing
really morose or atrabilious in his expression. He has found
that sorrow can unbar the palaces of the great, as well as
unlatch the cottages of the lowly. His dear friend and near
ally is gone — his party is almost broken.* He has survived
life appointments ! The truth of these accusations was undeniable, and helped.
no doubt, to account for Lord Grey's unpopularity after the Reform struggle
was ended. He was an eloquent speaker — seldom warmed into passion oi
even into excitement, but fluent, coiTect, and sometimes rather forcible. — M.
* The allusion liere_ appears to be to Fox, who, however, had died nearl)
nineteen years before. Charles James Fox, born in 1749, was the second son
of the first Lord Holland, by whom he waa educated for political life. At the
age of nineteen, two years before the legal age, he was elected member of par
liament. From 1770 to 1774, he was an advocate of the Ministry, and was

CHARLES JAMES FOX. 229
the death, and, let me add, the virtue of many illustrious men,
and looks like the lonely column of the fabric which he sus
tained so nobly, and which has fallen at last around him. It
is not wonderful that he should seem to stand in solitary lofti
ness, and that melancholy should have given a solemn tinge to
his mind. He spoke of the measures intended to be made
collateral to emancipation, and said,t # * * #
successively Lord of the Admiralty and of the Treasui^. At the age of 24,
the Ministry dismissed him — thereby converting a warm friend into a bitter
opponent. He resisted the American war, and on Lord North's removal, ob
tained a seat in the Cabinet, as Secretary of State. .The Rockingham Adminis
tration breaking up, on the death of its head, Lord Shelbume became Premier,
and after some time, Fox coalesced with Lord North (his old antagonist) ; a
measure which nearly ruined the popularity of both. Their India Bill led to
their downfall, and the nomination of William Pitt, in his 25th year, as Pre
mier. Fox espoused the leading principles of the French Revolution, which
Pitt contended against, and this also led to a total rupture with Burke, long
his fiiend, and to the erasure of his name, by the hand of the King himself^
from the Roll of the Privy Council. When Pitt died, in 1806, Lord Grenville
drew Fox from opposition, and made him Foreign Secretary. He did not long
hold office, for which he had so long contended, but died in September, 1806.
The eloquence of Fox was vehement rather than polished, but it was forcible
and effective. In private life he was convivial, witty, and genial. He was
somewhat of an historian, too, but spoke better than he wrote. He was addict
ed to gaming, and was a man of uncalculating and almost boundless extrava
gance. He was buried in Westminister Abbey, close to his great rival Pitt.
Scott says ** Drop upon Fox's tomb a tear
'Twill trickle to his rival's bier.''
Fox was the intimate friend of the Prince of Wales, afterward George IV,,
for many years, but the intimacy broke off after the marriage of the Prince. — M.
+ This article, published May, 1825, broke off thus abruptly, with "(The
Conclusion in our next Number)," holding out promise of some more of the
personal and political gossip which attracted much attention at the time. The
" conclusion" never appeared. Mr. Sheil told me that, though written, it was
suppressed, at the strong desire of the late Lord Grey, one of the haughtiest
aristocrats in England, at the time, who was alarmed at the idea of any of his
table-talk being reported! I believe that, until now, the exact reason of this
suppression, though suspected at the time, has not been stated on authority. — M.

AEOHIBALD HAMILTON ROWAN.
Op all the remarkable men I have met, Hamilton Rowan, I
think, is the one whose external appearance most completely
answers to the character of his mind, and the events of his
life. The moment your eye has taken in the whole of his fine
athletic configuration, you seeiat once that nature designed
him to be a great massive engine of a popular cause. When
he entered life, he might easily have taken his place as a
leading member of the aristocracy of his country. He had
high connections, a noble fortune, manners and accomplish
ments that would have graced a court — but his high and
adventurous spirit could not have brooked the sedentary forms,
'and still less the despotic maxims, of an Irish state-career.
He never could have endured to sit at a council-board, with
his herculean limbs gathered under him, to deliberate upon the
most expedient modes of trampling upon public rights. As a
mere matter of animal propensity, his more natural vocation
was to take the side of enterprise and danger — to mingle in
the tumult of popular commotion, and leading on his band of
citizen-soldiers "to the portals of the Castle, to call aloud in
their name for the minister to come forth and resist at his peril
the national cry for 'Universal Emancipation.'"* This was
his election, and his conscience coincided with his impulses.
He became, as might be expected, the idol of the populace,
and, from the c[ualities which made him so, too formidable to
the state to be tolerated. He was prosecuted and convicted,
by a tribunal of very doubtful purity ,t of feeling too ardently
for the political degradation of Ireland.
* See his trial in Howell's State Trials, for 1794.
t See the motion for a new trial, and the documents there used. — Howell's
State Trials. ?

HIS PERSONAL APPEAEANOE. ¦ 231
Thus far Hamilton Rowan had acted upon the principles of
an Irish reformer, and if he avowed them indiscreetly, or
pushed them too far, he suffered for it. In his imprisonment,
which he at least considered as oppression, he was provoked to
listen to more dangerous doctrines. He committed himself in
conferences with a spy who procured a ready access to his
presence ; and to avoid the consequences, effected his escape
to a foreign land.
After several years passed in wandering and exile, the
merits of his personal character prevailed against the remem
brance of his political aberrations, and an act of i-oyal clemency,
generously conceded without any humiliating conditions, re
stored him once more to his country. There he has since
resided, in the bosom of domestic quiet, and in the habitual
exercise of every virtue that can ennoble private life. He has
the satisfaction, too, in his old age, of finding that, in a public
point of view, his debt of gratitude to the Crown has not been
wholly unpaid. In his eldest son (Captain Hamilton, of the
Cambrian frigate) he has given to the British navy one of its
most gallant and distinguished commanders, and for whose
sake alone every man of a generous spirit should abstain from
gratuitous and cruel railings at the obsolete politics of the
father.* Hamilton Rowan's exterior is full of interest. Whether you
meet him abroad or in a drawing-room, you are struck at once
with his physical pre-eminence. Years have now rendered
his frame less erect, but all the proportions of a noble model
remain. In his youth he was remarkable for feats of strength
and activity. The latter quality was put to no ordinary test,
in a principal incident of his life, to which I shall presently
refer. His face, both in feature and expression, is in strict
accordance with the rest of his person. It has nothing deno
ting extraordinary comprehension, or subtlety of intellect ; but
in its masculine outline, which the workings of time have
brought out into more prominent relief — in the high and bushy
* This son, who died before his venerable father, eminently distinguished him
self in the contest for the independence of Greece, and his father never recov
ered hia loss. — M.

232 AEOHIBALD HAMILTON EOWAN.
trow — the unblenching eye — the compressed lips, and in the
composed yet somewhat stern stability of expression that marks
the whole, you find the symbols of high moral determination —
of fidelity to principle — of self-reliance and self-oblivion, and
¦above all of an uncompromising personal courage, that could
front every form of danger face to face.*
The austerity of his countenance vanishes the moment he
addresses you. His manners have all the fascination of the
old school. Every tone of his voice is softened by an innate
and undeviating courtesy that makes no distinctions of rank
or sex. In the trivial details of common life, Hamilton Rowan
is as gentle and complimentary to men as other men are in
their intercourse with females. This suavity of demeanor is
not the velvet of art ; it is only one of the signs of a compre
hensive philanthropy, which as habitually breaks out in acts
of genuine sympathy and munificent relief, wherever a case of
human suffering occurs within its range.
The circumstances of Hamilton Rowan's escape from im
prisonment, as I once heard them minutely detailed, possessed
all the interest of a romantic narrative. The following are
such of the leading particulars as I can recall, to my recollec
tion. Having discovered (on the 28th of April, 1794) the
extent of the danger in which he was involved, he arranged a
* Archibald Hamilton Rowan, who must have been a giant in his prime,
was one of the most remarkable men I ever saw. One might almost think ho-
had been made for one purpose — digito monstrari i He was long past seventy
when I saw him. In stature he was even as one of the sons of Anak. His
strongly-marked features indicated iirmness and benevolence. His eyes, dark
and flashing, beneath shaggy brows. His port, lofty. His stride, large. His
manners, of the old school of gentlest courtesy — but his frown, when offended
or excited, positively frightening ! Crowds used to watch for a sight of this
fine *' old Irish gentleman," as he came out of the club-house in Kildare street,
bearing in his hand a mighty blackthorn (which might have served Hercules
for a club), and escorted, on either side, by two immense Irish wolf-dogs, re
ported to be the vei7 last of their race. Looking at him, and surveying the gen
eration among whom he towered, like a forest-oak over a crowd of plantation
shrubs, a contemplative man might sigh, and utter, "There were Men — in the
days when he began to live'." Mr. Rowan died in November, 1834, aged
eighty-four. In his latter years he was much afflicted with deafness, and grief
for his gallant son. Captain Hamilton, who died before him, had affected hi9
etrong and ti-uly masculine mind. — M

HIS ESCAPE. 233
plan of flight to be put into execution on the night of the 1st
of May. He had the address to prevail on the jailer of New
gate, who knew nothing farther of his prisoner than that he
was under sentence of confinement for a political libel, to
accompany him at night to Mr. Rowan's own house.* They
were received by Mrs. R., who had a supper prepared in the
fi'ont room of the second floor. The supper over, the prisoner
requested the jailer's permission to say a word or two in private
to his wife in the adjoining room. The latter consented, on
the condition of the door between the two rooms remaining
open. He had so little suspicion of what was meditated, that
instead of examining the state of this other room, he contented
himself with shifting his chair at the supper-table so as to give
him a view of the open doorway. In a few seconds his pris
oner was beyond his reach, having descended by a single rope,
which had been slung from the window of the back chamber.
In his stable he found a horse ready saddled, and a peas
ant's outside coat to disguise liim.t With these he posted to
the house of his attorney, Matthew Howling, who was in the
secret of his design, and had promised to contribute to its
success by his counsel and assistance. Howling was at home,
but unfortunately his house was full of company. He came
out to the street to Mr. Rowan, who personated the character
of a country client, and hastily pointing out the great risk to
be incurred from any attempt to give him refuge in his own
house, directed him to proceed to the Rotunda (a public build
ing in Sackville street, with an open space in front) and re
main there until Bowling could despatch his guests, and come
to him. Irish guests were in those days rather slow to separ
ate from the bottle. For one hour and a half the fugitive had
to wait, leading his horse up and down before the Rotunda,
and tortured between fear and hope at the appearance of every
person that approached. He has often represented this as the
most trying moment of his life.
* In order, he pretended, to make out a deed, as fear had been expressed
that such an instrument signed in prison would be invalid. — M.
t Eowan states, in his autobiography, by which I correct Mr. Sheil's narrative,
that, when he was in his wife's room, he changed his dress of a herdsman. — M.

234 AECHIBALP HAMILTON EOWAN.
Howling at length arrived, and after a short aud anxious
conference, advised him to mount his horse, and make for the
country-house of their friend Mr. Sweetman, which was situate
about four miles off, on the northern side of the bay of Dublin.
This place he reached in safety, and found there the refuge
and aid which he sought.* After a delay of two or three days
Mr. Sweetman engaged three boatmen of the neighborhood to
man his own pleasure-boat, and convey Hamilton Rowan to
the coast of France. They put to sea at night ; but a gale of
wind coming on, they were compelled to put back, and take
shelter under the lee of the Hill of Howth. While at anchor
there on the following morning a small revenue-cruiser sailing
by threw into the boat copies of the proclamations that had
been issued, offering two thousand pounds sterling for the ap
prehension of Hamilton Rowan. The weather having moder
ated, the boat pushed out to sea again. They had reached the
mid-channel, when a situation occurred almost equalling in
dramatic interest the celebrated Casarem vehis of antic[iiity.
It would certainly make a fine subject for a picture. As the
boat careered along before a favorable wind, the exiled Irish
man perceived the boatmen grouped apart, perusing one of the
proclamations, and by their significant looks and gestures,
discovering that they had recognised the identity of theit
passenger, with the printed description. " Your conjectures
are right, my lads," said Rowan, "my life is in your hands —
but you are Irishmen." They flung the proclamation over
board, and the boat continued her course.f On the third morn-
* The moment his escape from prison was known, parties of soldiers were sent
in pursuit of him, in all directions, and in his place of concealment he could
hear their measured tread. — M.
t It is now several years since the particulars of Mr. Row^an's escape were
related to me by a friend, as they had been communicated to him by the prin
cipal actor himself; and my present recollection is that the above incident was
not included. I have often heard it, as I have given it, from other sources.
[What little money Rowan had with him, he divided equally among these
noble men, to whose generosity and quick sense of honor he owed his life —
for had he been recaptured, he would assuredly have been tried, and, if tried,
convicted, as his co-conspirator Jackson was. — There is an anecdote connected
with Jackson's not escaping which interests me much more than Rowan's es
cape. Jackson was an Irish clergyman sent over from France, in 1794, to as-

Jackson's chivaley. 235
ing, a little after break of day, they arrived within view of
St. Paul de Leon, a fortified town, on the coast of Bretagne.
As the sun rose, it dispersed a dense fog that had prevailed
overnight, and discovered a couple of miles behind them, mov
ing along under easy sail, the British Channel fleet, through
the thick of which their little boat had just shot unperceived.
The party, having landed, were arrested as spies, and cast
into prison, but in a few days an order from the French govern
ment procured their liberation. Hamilton Rowan proceeded
to Paris, from which, in a political convulsion that shortly en
sued, it was his fate once more to seek for safety in flight. He
escaped this time unaccompanied, in a wherry, which he rowed
himself down the Seine. The banks were lined with military;
hut he answered their challenges with so much address, that he
was allowed to pass on unmolested. Having reached a French
port, he embarked for the United States of America, where, at
length, he found a secure asylum.
Hamilton Rowan, though of Irish blood, was born and edu
cated in England. In his youth he acquired a large property
under the will of his maternal grandfather, Mr. Rowan, a bar
rister and lay-fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, who, in a kind
of prophetic spirit, made it a condition of the bequest, " that
his grandson should not come to Ireland until after he should
be twenty-five years old."
certain whether if the Directory invaded Ii'eland, the mass of the people would
receive the French. He communicated his business to an attorney in London,
wlio sold him to Pitt, and was employed to follow Jackson to Ireland and watch
him. After a time, the informer " gave tongue,'' and Jackson was arrested —
he was subsequently tried (the first case of high treason in Ireland for more
than a century), convicted, and brought up for judgment, but he evaded it, by
taking poison, and died in the dock, his last words, which were addressed to
Curran, being those of Pierre, " We have deceived the senate." When in
prison, Jackson was visited by a friend who remained until late at night. Jack
son went with him to the door where the jailer generally waited. They found
the man asleep and the prison-keys by his side, on the ground. Jackson
took them up, opened the prison-door, and was urged by his friend to escape.
He hesitated for a moment — " No," said he, " I could do it, but what would
the consequences be to this poor fellow, who has been so kind to me ? Let
me remain and meet my fate." He closed the door, turning from his friend
and liberty, locked himself in, and resumed his place in the dimgeon. — M.]

JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.
The first opportunity I had of closely observing the eminent
statesman and celebrated legislator whose name is prefixed to
this article, was afforded by the Louth election [1826J. Mr. Fos
ter is so intimately connected with that remarkable event, that
some account of the details which accompanied it will not
be inappropriate. The standard of the Association had been
raised in Waterford, and Villiers Stuart proclaimed himself the
antagonist of the House of Curraghmore. All eyes were directed
to the field in which the great contest was to be waged. Both
the combatants brought hereditary rank and vast opulence as
their allies, besides the auxiliary passions of the powerful par
ties to which they were respectively attached. There was,
however, nothing surprising in the enterprise of Mr. Stuart.
During his minority, the savings of his estate had accumulated
to a very large sum, and he was possessed of the means of
engaging in a bold political adventure, without running any
risk of permanently injuring his fortune. It would have been
far stranger if, with his large property and his enlightened
opinions, he had allowed the Beresfords to maintain an undis
puted masterdom in his county.
While the national attention was fixed upon the events
which were taking place in Waterford, news arrived in Dublin
which excited a far greater sensation than the contest between
the two rival patricians of Dromona and Curraghmore ; and it
was announced that Mr. Alexander Dawson, a retired barrister
with a small fortune, had started for Louth. In that county
the Protestant gentry were regarded as omnipotent. For
upward of half a century, the Jocelyns and the Fosters had

LOUTH ELECTION. 23T
returned two members to Parliament, and divided the county,
like a family borough, between them. A strong and appa
rently indissoluble coalition had been effected between Lord
Eoden* and Lord Oriel ; and it was supposed to be impossible
to make any effectual opposition to the union of Orangeism
and of Evangelism, which the wily veteran of Ascendency, and
the frantic champion of the New Reformation, had effected.
To this combination of power Mr. Dawson had neither
wealth nor connections to oppose. He had even intimated
that he would not bear any portion of the expenses, and
must be returned by popular contribution. The ordinary
preparations had not been made, and it was only three days
before the election commenced that his intention was de
clared. Leslie Foster affected to treat his pretensions with
.derision. He was to be seen among groups of sympathizing
king's counsel, and assentating assistant-barristers, with his
forefinger and thumb brought into syllogistic conjunction,
demonstrating the utter absurdity of Alexander Dawson in
attempting a contest. A profound seriousness habitually per
vades the countenance of Mr. Foster, who, accustomed to the
most abstruse meditations upon political economy, and con
versant with the deepest mysteries of legislation, has seldom
* The Earl of Roden (who sits in the House of Lords as Baron Clanbrassill,
in the peerage of the United Kingdom), is now, in 1854, in his sixty-sixth year.
He was long notorious for his connection with the Orange faction, and has
taken great interest in all attempts at changing Irish Catholics (when food ia
scarce) into nominal converts. When the potato crop turns out favorably, the
** reformed" lapse into their ancient faith. It was believed that Lord Roden's
great test of a " renewed spirit" was the partaking of meat, on a Friday — hence
they were called " leg-of-mutton converts." However misplaced his political
and polemical zeal. Lord Roden is a good landlord. He has a pension of
twenty-seven hundred pounds sterling, for the abolished office of Auditor-Gener
al in Ireland. — His eldest son. Viscount Jocelyn, bom in 1816, was military sec
retary to the Chinese Expedition, and is author of " Six Months in China."
He afterward held office under Sir Robert Peel (from Febraary, 1845, to July,
1846), as one of the Secretaries of the India Board. He is a moderate consei>
vative, and a well-infoimed, impresuming man. His wife, one of the hand
somest women in the Court of Victoria (she is daughter of Lady Palmerston,
by her first marriage) is a Lady of the Bedchamber to the Queen. — Viscount
Jocelyn has a seat in the House of Commons, as member for Lynn Regis, in
the county of Norfolk, for which borough he was first elected in 1842. — M.

238 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
been known to use the risible organs for the purposes for
which they were originally intended. The notion of a contest
in Louth, however, seemed to strike him as so exceedingly
ludicrous and extravagant, that upon this occasion he broke
through all the rules of solemnity by which his physiognomy
is usually controlled. Still, he had left off laughing fol- such
a length of time, that his smile sat uneasily and unnaturally
upon him, and the muscles of merriment had become so rusty
and so destitute of pliability, that they accommodated them
selves slowly and ponderously to their functions ; and many
of his friends, observing these novel phenomena of mirth, ex
claimed, " What can be the matter with Leslie Foster !" He,
however, made ample compensation for this sudden and un
meet deviation from his habitual gravity, by tlie seriousness
of his aspect, upon his appearance at the hustings of Dundalk:'
I proceeded there before the arrival of Mr. Foster.
From the brow of a hill which surmounts the town, when
I was at a short distance from it, I saw a vast multitude
descending with banners of green unfurled to the wind, aud
shouting as they moved along. I could not at first discern
with distinctness the gentleman who was the immediate object
of this wild ovation ; but, on approaching and mixing with the
dense mass of enthusiastic patriots mj'self, I saw, seated in an
old gig, Mr. Alexander Dawson, the aspiring candidate who
had presumed to enter the lists with the hereditary representa
tives of the County of Louth. He wore an old frock-coat COV'
ered with dust, and a broad-brimmed, weather-beaten hat,
which surmounted a head that streamed with profuse perspira
tion ; his face was ruddy with heat, but, notwithstanding the
excitement of the scene, preserved its habitual character of
sagacious quietism and tranquil intelligence. He did not seem
to be (though placed in a most extraordinary and trying situa
tion) at all conscious of the boldness of the enterprise in which
he was embarked, and was perhaps the least moved of the
multitude that were rushing rapidly on ; while the people
were hurraing about him, throwing their hats into the air, and
catching them with a wild shriek and prance (a common de
notement of joy among the lower Irish), he sat composedly in

LOUTH ELECTION. 239
his old vehicle, and was busy in preserving order and regu
larity in the procession. There were some three or four rag
ged fiddlers before him, who played with all their might, and
in notes of the harshest discord, a tune which they intended for
the popular air of " Nancy Dawson," and which they selected
for no other reason than that it was connected with his name.
It was only at intervals that the hard and vigorous scraping
of these village violins was distinctly audible; for the cries
of "Down with Foster!" and "Dawson for ever!" resounded
from every side in yells of vehement uproar, and monopolized
the hearing faculties. A wonderful enthusiasm prevailed
through this vast gathering,; and in the faces of the fierce and
athletic peasants who drew their favorite on, as they occasion
ally turned their heads back to look on him, and shouted in
the retrospect, the strongest passions of mingled joy, ferocity,
and determination, were expressed.
In a few minutes Mr. Dawson and his gig were drawn into
the main street of Dundalk, and stopped at Magrath's hotel,
which was the rendezvous of patriotism during the election.
There the committee, which had been hastily gotten up, was
collected, and welcomed Mr. Dawson on his arrival. He de
scended amid loud acclamations, and soon after appeared at a
window in the tavern, whence he addressed the people. Sev
eral thousands were assembled, and in an instant deep silence
was obtained. In a plain, brief, perfectly simple, and intelli
gible speech, Mr. Dawson told them that for their sake, and
not to gratify his personal ambition, he was determined to
oppose Mr. Foster and Mr. Fortescue, and to break the Oriel
and the Roden yoke. His speech was received with the most
rapturous plaudits, and it was manifest that, whatever might
he the issue, a spirit had arisen among the people which por
tended far more than could have been originally calculated.
While Mr. Dawson aiid others of tbe same party were addres
sing the people, the carriages of the leading gentry, drawn
by four horses, were seen entering the town, but, in order to
avoid the multitude, wheeled round through a street parallel
to that in the opening of which the people were gathered.
Astonishment and apprehension were visible in their faces.

24:0 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
They perceived already that a dreadful struggle was about to
take place.
The wonted harangues having been delivered to the people,
Mr. Dawson and his committee proceeded to the Court-house,
which occupies one side of a square in the centre of the town.
This building presents in its exterior a very beautiful object.
It was erected under the immediate superintendence of Mr.
Foster, who furnished the design, which he took from the
Temple of Theseus ; for Mr. Foster values himself upon a uni
versality of acquisition, and is a sort of walking encyclopedia,
or peripatetic repertory of all the arts and sciences, and is as
profoundly skilled in architecture as he is in any of the crafts
of the Custom-House or the mysteries of the Excise. Opening
Stuart's Athens, he lighted on the Temple of Theseus, and
selected it as a model for a Court-house at Dundalk; and,
accordingly, the most beautiful and inconvenient temple in
which the rites of justice have ever been performed has been
produced under his architectural auspices.
In that part of this incongruous edifice which is allocated to
the County business, the High-Sheriff assembled the free
holders to read the writ. On his left hand stood Mr. Leslie
Foster. How changed from him who had, a few hours before,
derided as impotent the efforts of the Roman Catholic body to
push him from his stool in the legislature ! His complexion is
naturally pale, but it now became deadly-white. He surveyed
the dense mass of the people with awe, and seemed to recoil
from the groans and hootings with which he was clamorously
assailed. When proposed as a candidate, he delivered a
speech, in which he clumsily sought to reconcile his auditors
to his resistance of their claims, and appeared to be aware of
the wretchedness of the task which he had imposed upon him
self. The only relief which he received was derived from the
execration which the mention of Lord Roden and his party
produced in the assembly ; for, obnoxious as that nobleman is
through the rest of Ireland, his fanaticism and narrow-hearted-
ness have secured for him a more condensed and concentrated
odium in the town of Dundalk. Mr. Dawson spoke with equal
brevity and perspicuity, and made it his boast that he be-

LOUTH ELECTION. 241
longed to the middle classes, and was best calculated to repre
sent their feelings and to do justice to their interests.
On the succeeding day the polling commenced with activity,
Mr. Fortescue being sustained by the Roden influence and a
large portion of the Protestant aristocracy ; the rest of that
body were the supporters of Mr. Foster; while Mr. Dawson
relied upon a few Roman Catholics of fortune, and on the spirit
of agrarian insurrection, which had broken out among the
forty-shilling freeholders. For the first few days, Mr. Foster
and Mr. Fortescue acted in conjunction, because they calcu
lated that they should be able to throw Mr. Dawson out; but,
after some demonstration of the power of the people, the agent
for Mr. Fortescue (Mr. Johnson) broke off the coalition, and
the three candidates rested upon their individual resources.
In this state of things, Mr. Sheil, who was counsel for Mr.
Dawson, applied to Mr. Johnson, as agent for Mr. Fortescue,
and offered to give him a certain number of votes, upon con
dition that Mr. Fortescue should co-operate with the popular
party in throwing Mr. Foster out ; but Mr. Johnson, confident
at the time that Lord Roden's interest was paramount, declined
to accede to a proposition which it is probable his employer
would have regarded as unworthy of him. Mr. Fortescue was,
however, outwitted by Leslie Foster ; for the coalition of the
first days threw so many additional votes iuto the scale, as
enabled him, ultimately, though only by a very small major
ity, to defeat his incautious and unskilful auxiliary.
Some time elapsed before any decided demonstrations of
superiority took place ; and the exertions of all parties were
prodigious. Emissaries were despatched night and day
through every part of the county, and no means of persuasion
were spared by the Catholic, or of terror by the Protestant
faction, to bring the freeholders in. Priests and attorneys
were seen scouring the country in all directions, and landlords
and drivers, armed with nvarrants of distress, knocked at the
door of every hovel. The spirit of exertion which animated
the contending parties extended itself to the counsel, and Mr.
North (the brother-in-law of Mr. Foster), Mr. Murray, who
was employed by Mr. Fortescue, and Mr. Sheil, who acted for
Vol. IL— 11

242 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
Mr. Dawson, in the High Sheriff's booth, exhibited a zeal and
alacrity which a mere professional sympathy with their clients
could scarcely have supplied.
The Sheriff's booth was in a small room adjoining the Coun
ty-court, and offered, through the iron bars of its single win
dow on the ground-floor, a dismal spectacle. A wall, at the
distance of about four feet from this window, rises to a consid
erable height, and forms a small quadrangular space, covered
with rank grass and broken stones, in which the murderers at
Wildgoose Lodge are buried. In intervals of leisure, the eyes
of the persons, whose business it was to remain in this room,
would involuntarily rest upon this spot, and the conversation
turned from the subject of the election to the terrible atrocity
of which that dreary piece of ground was the memorial. The
meditations which it supplied were, however, of brief duration,
for a question connected with a vote would arise to dissolve
them. As the election proceeded, the anxieties of Mr. Foster aug
mented. He seemed to lose all command and self-possession.
He would rush into the Sheriff's booth with a precipitate
vehemence, which was the more remarkable from the contrast
which it formed with his usual systematic and well-ordered be
havior. " Soldiers I" he would cry, " soldiers, Mr. I&igh-Sher-
iff! I call upon you to bring out troops, to protect me and
my supporters. My life is in peril — my brother has just been
assailed — we shall be massacred, if you persevere in exclu
ding troops from the town !" Such were the exclamations he
would utter, under the influence of mingled anger and alarm;
for I believe that his fears, though utterly unfounded, were
sincere. To these appeals the friends of Mr. Dawson would
oppose equally vehement adjurations. " What ! call out troops!
bayonet the people ! No, Mr. Foster ; the scenes of 1798 are
not returned ; the Sheriff will not be deluded by the phantoms
which issue from your over-excited Imagination, or accede to
your sanguinary invocations."
The High-Sheriff was placed in a very embarrassing condi
tion in the midst of this uproar of remonstrance. It was said
that his leanings were personally favorable to Mr. Foster; but

LOUTH ELECTION. 243
he is a brewer of the famous Castlebellingham ale, and the in
terests of his brewery being at variance with his political pre
dilections (if he have any), he was kept in a state of painful
hesitation, until Mr. Chaigneau, who acted with the utmost
impartiality as Assessor, resolved his difficulties, by very prop
erly stating, that when evidence of danger should be laid be
fore the Sheriff upon oath, he would act upon it* The town
remained perfectly peaceable. There were, indeed, loud cries
and vehement shoutings, but no personal molestation was of
fered to anybody. A perpetual procession of fiddlers and fife-
players moved through the streets, who played no other air
than " Nancy Dawson" from morning until twelve at night.
At the head of this body of everlasting minstrels were two
singular persons, who carried largo banners Of green silk, with
national emblems and mottoes figured upon them. One of these
strange individuals was a doctor — a large, bloated, plethoric
mass of a man, dressed in old rusty black, covered with snuff,
with a protuberant belly, and a short, waddling gait, which a
quantity of matutinal potations had rendered exceedingly un
steady ; while his countenance, composed of large blotches
of orbicular red, with a pair of large glazed eyes, surmounted
by white shaggy eyebrows, confirmed the conjectures which
the irregularity of his movements suggested. The doctor car
ried the Dawson standard, having two or three stout fellows
to co-operate in his sustainment. When he arrived at the
end of the street, in turning round to direct the procession, of
which he was the chief leader, the doctor would utter a loud
but inarticulate shout, and return toward the courthouse ; and
when he had arrived there, he would again wheel about at
the head of the multitude with a similar hurrah. Thus, he
traversed, from morning till sunset, the principal street of the
town, taking a glass of Irish restorative at brief intervals in
these strange perambulations.
Next in command to the doctor was old Harry Mills, whose
fame has since travelled across the Atlantic, and who has not
only had his health drunk in America, but has received a sub
scription of twenty pounds from the New World. This peas
ant was among the most conspicuous figures at the Louth elec-

244 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
tion. He had about four acres of land, for which he paid a
high rent to his landlord ; and although he completely depend
ed on him, this " village Hampden," as he was called, with
stood the petty despotism of Mr. Woulfe M'Neil, and voted in
despite of him for Mr. Dawson. Harry Mills had gone through
many a wild adventure. He had been concerned in the affair
of 1798, anfl was obliged to fly the country ; but, as he said
himself, he had the consolation of seeing an Orangeman's
house on fire upon the shore, as he was sailing in a fishing-
boat from the port of Dundalk. " Please your honor," Harry
used to say, " as I was leaving ould Ireland, I saw the flames
blazing out of the Cromwellian's house ; and many a time,
when I was keeping watch on the coast of Guinea, I used to
think of that same fire." Harry was obliged to turn seaman,
and became a sailor in a slave-ship. He was taken by a
French privateer ; and I do not recollect exactly how he con
trived, after years had passed, to get back to Ireland. His
spirit slumbered within him until the Louth election, and then
it broke forth, like the flame from the Orangeman's house,
which had ministered with its flashes to his retrospective con
solations. With that ocean-look and attitude which belong to
all seafaring people, Harry blended the sly cunning and observ
ant sagacity which characterize the Irish peasant, and offered,
to a lover of the moral picturesque, one of the most striking
objects at the Loutli election. He marched, in company with
the doctor, as second standard-bearer to Mr. Dawson, and was
as unwearied as his brother patriot in this his new, and, if we
could judge from his shouts and exclamations, his delightful
vocation. But in drawing the figures and detailing the incidents hy
which Mr. Foster was surrounded, I allow him, perhaps, to
leave the foreground of the picture. As the election advanced,
his fears augmented, and he presented new phenomena of ter
ror. His opponents felt a malevolent pleasure in watching the
torture which he was undergoing, and in observing the writhings
of the mind, which were apparent in his demeanor and coun
tenance. But Alexander Dawson had in a few days ceased
to be the immediate object of his competition; for the latter

LOUTH ELECTION. 245
having obtained a vast majority, his return was no longer mat
ter of speculation, and the fiercest contest was carried on be
tween the Roden and the Oriel candidates, who had originally
entered in alliance into the field. Though they agreed in all
political opinions, they affoi'ded proof of the promptitude with
which abstract questions are lost in individual interests. The
Catholics had carried Mr. Dawson's election, and Mr. Foster
and his friends used all their efforts to induce them to remain
neutral ; observing that Mr. Foster (which was a just remark)
was not personally obnoxious, that he was a good landlord, and
that Lord Roden's candidate was not only politically but fa
natically opposed to them.
These arguments had their weight with the liberal party ;
although the more sagacious saw that it would be a consum
mation of their victory, if they could eject from the House of
Commons an individual who had contributed some talent and
a great deal of research and industry to the maintenance of his
party. Still, the antipathy to Lord Roden prevailed : and the
detestation in which his wild, lugubrious doctrines were held ;
the recollection of his having refused a small piece of ground
to erect a more commodious house of Catholic worship ; his
penurious piety ; his omission, with all his ostentatious Chris
tianity, to subscribe to a single charitable institution at Dun
dalk; and other circumstances of a similar character — made
the majority of the people rather inclined toward Leslie Poster
than to the candidate by which the Roden interest was rep
resented. Mr. Fortescue had now abundant reason to regret
the fastidious spirit with which a tender of Catholic support
had been originally rejected.
Almost all the county had been polled out, and then, but
when it was too late, it was communicated to the Catholics,
but not through the ostensible agent of Mr. Fortescue, that
their assistance was necessary to throw Mr. Foster out. Had
this application been made the day before, the Catholics, who
were three hundred ahead of tbe Protestant candidates, might
have interfered with effect. Their committee refused to act ;
but individuals took upon themselves to gather as many strag
gling freeholders as could be collected. It is a rule that, after

246 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
a certain number of days, if twenty persons do not poll before
six o'clock, the booth where this deficiency takes place shall
close. Every booth, excepting one, was shut about four o'clock ;
and if the Roden party could contrive to poll twenty before
six, they would have been entitled to hold the booth open.
They calculated that on the next day they could bring in
enough of voters to obtain a majority, with the aid of such of
the Catholics as did not hate Lord Roden less, but dreaded
Leslie Foster more, and on that principle were doing their ut
most to throw him out of Parliament. About four o'clock,
Leslie Foster had a majority of nine or ten, and I believe all
his votes were exhausted. Some twelve or thirteen persons
had polled in the booth in question ; and if Mr. Fortescue could
procure so many persons merely to poll, as would, with the
votes already given, make up twenty, his object would have
been secured. The issue of the contest, therefore, depended
upon minutes.
The booth presented a most singular scene. It was crowded
to excess, from the condensation of the public interests within
its narrow limits. Scarcely space enough was left for the ad
mission of the voters ; and, indeed, it was the object of the
Foster faction to retard and obstruct their arrival by every
possible expedient. In order to consume time, fellows were
put up on Mr. Foster's tallies who had no votes ; and their re
jection, and the clamor and confusion which it produced, served
to consume the hour, of which every instant was of value. Mr.
Fortescue's party still contrived to poll a few freeholders, who
were supplied by the Catholics ; and it was matter of great
doubt whether the important and decisive number " twenty"
could be produced. After five o'clock, the suspense of all par
ties became increased, and every eye was alternately turned
to the spot where the freeholders were polled, and to the
watches which were held in the hands of the spectators, and
which indicated the progress of time to that point on which the
issue was to hang. I never saw a deeper expression of solici
tude. Mr. Fortescue himself was not there, as he was confined
by the gout ; but his partisans showed an anxiety as great as
if personally engaged by individual interest in the event.

LOUTH ELECTION. - 247
The friends of Mr. Foster, who were gathered round the
Sheriff, manifested, if possible, a still greater intentness of ex
pectation. George Pentland, who had been long solicitor to
the customhouse, of which Mr. Foster was, since 1818, the
counsel, acted as his agent, with an alacrity which inveterate
habits of professional sympathy had naturally produced. Many
reciprocal obligations had endeared the counsel and the attor
ney to each other ; and it would be difficult, perhaps, to adjust
the balance of gratitude, and to determine on which side the
golden seale ought to incline. Certain it is that Mr. Pentland
exhibited upon this occasion, for a gentleman who was alter
nately his patron and his protege, the most ardent sympathy.
During the earlier period of the election, George had preserved
that spirit of coaxing good-humor, and of humbug urbanity,
which belongs to the good old school of Irish pensioners and
placemen. " Oh, my good friend," George used to say (laying
his customhouse gripe upon your shoulder, and refusing you a
permit to pass), " you little know Leslie Foster. Mind what I
say, and I have an eye in my head, Leslie will be found voting
for you yet — mind" — (and then he would let loose your shoul
der, while he placed his forefinger on the tip of his nose, and
winked sagaciously at you) — "mind what I say — but I say
nothing — mum's the word!" But George laid aside all his
intimations, whether verbal, physiognomical, ocular, or nasal,
as the fatal hour of six drew on ; and with eyes glaring with
expectation, and his brows raised in Saxon arches on his fore
head, he sat waiting the eventful instant. Near him stood Mr.
North, whose naturally sweet and placid countenance, without
exhibiting the fierceness of faction, assumed for a moment au
aspect of acerbity, while his lips, that were as white as ashes,
trembled and quivered in the expression of the few words to
which he occasionally gave utterance.
But where was Leslie Foster a^l this time 1 This question,
which the reader will probably ask, I put to myself; and, on
turning my eyes round, I was at first at a loss to discover him.
At length I observed a person sitting in a remote corner of the
room, upon a chair which was thrown back in such a way that
it was balanced on two legs, while the head of the somewhat

248 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
round and squat gentleman by whom it was occupied leaned
against the wall. His hat was drawn over his brows, and his
eyes were closed. His cheeks, which seemed to have been
originally full and plentiful, appeared to have suffered a cadav
erous collapse. Thick drops of perspiration trickled down his
visage, which he occasionally wiped away with an Orange
handkerchief held in his right hand ; while a watch, on which,
however, he did not look, was in the other. I did not at first
recognise this extraordinary figure ; but upon a sudden it
started up, and on the opening of the eyes, and the full dis
closure of the countenance, I thought I could perceive some
faint resemblance to Leslie Foster. He seemed, at first, to
stand in an attitude of cataleptic horror ; and when he recov
ered himself, he clasped his hands, and, unable to sustain his
agony, rushed with a frantic speed out of the room. He had
given everything up for lost ; but he was mistaken. The
twenty votes had not been made up. The clock struck six,
and John Leslie Foster was saved from being buried by torch
light [as a suicide], under the new act of Parliament, in the
churchyard of Dundalk.
Mr. Dawson and Mr. Foster were returned as duly elected.
The latter did not attend at the hustings when the event of
the election was proclaimed. He set off for CuUen, the seat
of Lord Oriel, in that heaving and agitation of mind which the
stormy passions leave behind, after the immediate occasion of
their excitement has ceased to act. His flight was considered
as most inglorious, and it was boasted by the Catholic orators
that he did not dare to meet them. This was a great disap
pointment to Mr. Sheil and other dealers in harangue, who ex
pected to show off at his expense. He very wisely effected his
retreat to his uncle's (the late Lord Oriel s) residence, whose
octogenarian philosophy did not prevent him from feeling a
deep and corroding interesj. in the event. Had Mr. Foster
remained sequestered in the beautiful woods which the Speaker
of the Irish House of Commons lived to see rise about him,
he would have acted wisely.* But, after a 'short interval, the
* When the Union was passed, John Foster was Speaker of the House of
Commons. He was Mr. Leslie Foster's uncle, and was raised to the peerage,

COST OF CEEATING A PEEE. 24:9
public were astonished by a resentful lucubration from bis pen,
in wbich he vilified tbe proceedings of the Catholics, and in
veighed with great virulence against the priests. If ever he
stands for tbe county of Louth again, which is very improbable,
this document will be bi'ought in judgment against him.
He was guilty of another indiscretion, or rather a piece of
bad taste, as it was far more deserving of laughter than of
condemnation. Having fled from Dundalk, where Mr. Daw
son was chaired, he caused himself to be put through a similar
by the title of Lord Oriel. — I have so repeatedly had occasion to refer to the
creation of peers, that it may not be out of place to say something- about the cost
(" surget amari aliquid"), which is considerable and is defrayed by the person
who receives the elevation, except when the dignity is conferred for public
services, when the amount is paid out of the sum granted by Parliament for
Civil Contingencies. In 1853, on the motion of Mr. Hume, who always de-
fiires to know how the public money is expended, a Parliamentary return was
printed, of the persons to whom, and for what services, the sum of four hun
dred and twenty pounds sterling, charged in the Civil Contingencies for 1852,
was paid, and the names of the several persona receiving the same for the pat
ent creating General Lord Fitzroy Somerset a baron of the United Kingdom.
He had been Military Secretary, for a long period, to the Duke of Wellington
when Commander-in-chief, and, on the Duke's death, in September, 1852, was
appointed Master-General of the Ordnance, and called to the Upper House as
Baron Raglan. It appears, by the official return, that, in the expenses of his
patent of nobility, the crown-office charges amounted to £390, 15^. 4:d. ; and
the authority for the same is stated " ancient usages." Of that sum, £150, 2s.
went to the Stamp-ofGce; £104,65. lOd. to the royal household. Some of the
items are curious. The pajonent to the Lord Chancellor, Great Seal fee, is £2,
6s. Sd. ; the clerk of the Hanaper, has £24, 13s. Ad. ; the deputy, £1, Is. ; the
Lord-Chancellor's purse-bearer, has £5, 5s.; the porter to the Great Seal,
£l, Is.: gentlemen to ditto, £6; sealer, £1, 2s. 6d.', deputy ditto, 10s. 6d.
Chaffwax, £,l,2s. 2d.; deputy ditto, 10s. 6d.; principal Usher of Scotland,
£6, 13s. 6^.; Scotch heralds, £16 ; English ditto, £36 ; Earl-Marshal, £5 ;
Garter-King-at-Arms, £20; and the gold-emblazoned skin and boxes to hold
the patent and seal, cost £9. The Patent-office charges amounted to £29,
18s. 6d. By the Attorney-General, £20, for approving, settling, and signing
the Queen's warrant for Her Majesty's signature, according to " ancient usage."
By the clerk of the Patents, to the Attorney-General, £7, 7s. 6d., by ancient
usage, and £1, 10s. stamp duty on wan-ant. By the engrossing clerk, £1,
1«., for engrossing the warrant and for parchment. In this manner £-420
was expended in the creation of a baron of the United Kingdom. The higher
the rank conferredj the heavier the charge?. It is understood that the cost of a
Duke's patent is nearly four thousand pounds sterling. — M.
11*

250 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
honor in his uncle's demesne. All the vassals and retainers
of Lord Oriel, who could be procured, were collected together,
and Mr. Foster having been placed upon the shoulders of four
stout Protestant tenants, was conveyed through the village of
Cullen, amid the plaudits of the yeomanry, the hurrahs of the
schoolmaster, the sexton, and the parish-clerk, and the accla
mations of the police.
I have hitherto considered Mr. Foster as a candidate, and I
should give an equally minute account of him as a member of
Parliament, but that I have not had the same fortunate oppor
tunities of observation. I do, indeed, remember an incident,
which may be considered, to a certain extent, illustrative of
his influence as a legislative speaker; and, in the lack of any
other means of describing him, it may not be inappropriate to
set it down.
I was under the gallery of the House of Commons during
the debate on the Catholic question, in the year 1825. The
House was exceedingly full. Mr. Foster rose to speak, and
the effect of his appearance on his legs was truly wonderful.
In an instant the House was cleared. The rush to the door
leading to the tavern up stairs, where the members find a refuge
from the soporific powers of their brother-legislators, was tre
mendous. I was myself swept away by the torrent, and car
ried from my place by the crowd, that fled from the solemn
adjuration with which Mr. Foster commenced his oration. The
single phrase " Mr. Speaker" was indeed uttered with such a
tone as indicated the extent of the impending evil ; and find
ing already the influence of drowsiness upon me, I followed
the example which was given by the representatives of the
people, who, whatever differences may have existed among
them upon the mode of settling Ireland, appeared to coincide
in their estimate of Mr. Foster's elocution. From the Treasury
benches, the opposition and the neutral quarters of the House,
a simultaneous concourse hurried up to Bellamy's, and left Mr.
Foster in full possession of that solitude which he had thus
instantaneously and miraculously produced.
I proceeded up stairs with some hundreds of honorable gen
tlemen. The scene which Bellamy's presents to a stranger is

KOBILITY IN "the COMMONS." 251
striking enough. Two smart girls, "wliose briskness and neat
attire made up for their want of beauty, and for the invasions
of tirae, of which their cheeks showed the traces, helped out
tea in a room in the corridor. It was pleasant to observe the
sons of Dukes and Marq[uises,* and the possessors of twenties
and thix'ties of thousands a year, gathered round these dam
sels, and soliciting a cup of that beverage which it was their
office to administer. These Bellamy bar-maids seemed so fa
miliarized with their occupation, that they went through it with
* The sons of the nobility are eligible to sit in the House of Commons,
though it is an anomaly for persons belonging to the Aristocracy, by feeling-
and interest, as well as by birth, to be nominal representatives of the People.
Irish peers may also be members of the House of Commons — but not for an
Irish county or borough. Thus Earl Annesley represents Great Grimsby, in
Lincolnshire, and Viscount Palmerston is member for Tiverton, in Devonshire.
The eldest sons of Dukes, Marquises, and Earls, bear, by courtesy, the second
titles of their fathers. Thus the Duke of Leinster's eldest son is called Mar
quis of Kildare : the Marquis of Westminster's is Earl of Grosvenor : the Earl
of Lichfield's is Viscount Anson. In some few cases, the holder of a peerage
has not also received the rank immediately below his own. Thus, the Duke
of Manchester's second title is only Viscount Mandeville. The issue of junior
children of Dukes, Marquises, and Earls, have respectively the title of " Lord"
or "Lady" prefixed to their narae — so we have Lord John Russell, Lady
Blanche Gower. The eldest son of a Viscount or a Baron is plainly ** The
Honorable" — thus, Viscount Strangford's eldest son is " The Honorable George
Smythe," and his brothers and sisters would be entitled to the same prefix,
which is confined only to the nobility — not even a Baronet being entitled to it.
A member of Parliament, spoken of in Parliament as " the honorable member
for so-and-so," has no distinctive appellation out of it. Therefore we have
plain Mr. Cobden ; but when aman is a Pri\'y Councillor, he has a permanent
title — such as '* The Right Honorable Benjamin Disraeli." Every peer is
"right honorable.'' Courtesy titles are not recognised by law. Thus, if the
late Duke of Wellington's eldest son, or the Duke of Bedford's brother were to
be named in the London Gazette, as having obtained any appointment, the
description would be ** the honorable Arthur Wellesley, commonly called Mar
quis of Douro," or "the honorable John Russell, commonly called Lord John
Eussell." — The House of Commons consists of 658 members, and I find, on
carefully going over the list, that 228 of these belong to the nobility by birth or
marriage. That is, more than one third of the representatives of the Commons
of the United Kingdom actually are members of the Aristocracy, the natural op
ponents of popular privileges and rights. The eventual remedy will he, to
effect a reform by which peers' sons shall be disqualified from sitting in the
ConnTnons House of Parliament. — M.

252 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
perfect nonchalance, and would occasionally turn with petu
lance, in which they asserted the superiority of their sex to
rank and opulence, from the noble or wealthy suitors for a
draught of tea, by whom they were surrounded. The unfortu
nate Irish members were treated with a peculiar disdain, and
were reminded of their provinciality by the look of these Par
liamentary Hebes, who treated them as mere colonial deputies
should be received in the purlieus of the state.
I passed from these ante-chambers to the tavern, where I
found a number of members assembled at dinner. Half an
hour had passed away, toothpicks and claret were now begin
ning to appear, and the business of mastication being con
cluded, that of digestion had commenced, and many an honor
able gentleman, I observed, who seemed to prove that he was
born only to digest. At the end of a long corridor, which
opened from the room where the diners were assembled, there
stood a waiter whose ofSce it was to inform any interrogator
what gentleman was speaking below stairs. Nearly opposite
the door sat two English county members. They had disposed
of a bottle each, and, just as the last glass was emptied, one of
them called out to the annunciator at the end of the passage
for intelligence. "Mr. Foster on his legs!" was the formida
ble answer. " Waiter, bring another bottle!" was the imme
diate effect of this information, which was followed by a simi
lar injunction from every table in the room. I perceived that
Mr. Bellamy owed great obligations to Mr. Foster. But the
latter did not limit himself to a second bottle ; again and again
the same question was asked., and again the same announce
ment returned — "Mr. Foster upon his legs!" The answer
seemed to fasten men in inseparable adhesiveness to their seats.
Thus two hours went by — when, at length, "Mr. Plunket on
his legs," w^s heard from the end of the passage, and the whole
convocation of compotators rose together and returned to the
House. Soipe estimfite of the eloquence of Mr. Foster may be formed
from this evidence of its effects. I am unable myself to supply,
from personal observation, any better detail of it. But it is
not necessary : Mr. Plunket, in a single phrase, has described

HIS OPIATE OEATOEY. 253
his legislative faculties, and on the night of which I have been
speaking remarked that " he had turned history into an old
almanac." I should not omit to mention, in justice to Mr. Fos
ter, that in converting the annals of mankind to this valuable
purpose, he exhibits a wonderful diligence. His speeches are
the result of great industry, and he takes care not to deliver
himself of any cmde, abortive notions, such as are thrown off
in extempore debate ; but, after allowing his meditations to
mature in a due process of conception in his mind, brings them
forth with a laborious effort, and presents his intellectual off
spring to the House in the " swaddling" phraseology in which
they are always carefully wrapped up.
It was, indeed, at one time believed and studiously propa
gated by his friends, that he did not prepare his orations, and
that he poured out his useless erudition, and his mystical dog
mas, without premeditation or research. That erroneous con
jecture has been recently corrected ; for, upon a late occasion,
when the Chaplain of the House of Commons was reading
prayers, at four o'clock, Mr. Foster, who appeared to those at
a distance to be kneeling in a posture of profound Parliament
ary piety, with his hands raised, as is the fashion with the
devout, to his lips, was heard to mutter through his fingers :
" Had it been my good fortune, Mr. Speaker, to have caught
yom' eye at an earlier period of the debate, I should have gone
more at length, than I now, at this late hour of the night, in
tend to do, into the details of a question, upon which the integ
rity of the constitution, the sacred privileges of the Protestants
of Ireland, and the purity of the reformed religion, entirely
depend." Mr. Eichard Martin, the then member for Oonna-
mara, who happened to hear Mr. Foster, communicated this
important discovery; and it is now well ascertained that
Mr. Foster takes exceedingly great if not very meritorious
pains at his oratorical laboratory, and passes many a mid
night vigil in compounding those opiates with which, at the
expense of his own slumbers, he lulls the House of Commons
to repose.
Mr. Foster may be considered in the various phases of bar
rister, scholar, commissioner of education, and counsel to the

254: JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
commissioners of customs and escise.* As a member of the
bar, he is not very remarkable. He is not in considerable
business, which I am inclined to attribute to his dedication of
himself to political pursuits ; for he came to the profession un
der great advantages, having industry, a tenacious memory,
and the patronage of the late Chief-Justice Downes. I think
that he would have succeeded in the Court of Chancery, had
he attended exclusively to the bar ; for certainly he is not des
titute of the powers of clear reasoning and perspicuous exposi
tion. " His great fault is, that he diffuses an air of importance
over all that he says, looks, and does, which is not unfrequently
in ludicrous contrast with the matter before him. Instead of
speaking trippingly upon the tongue, he loads his utterance
* John Leslie Foster was grandson of Chief Baron Foster, son of Dr. Foster,
Bishop of Clogher (who died in 1787), q,nd nephew to John Foster, Speaker
of the Irish House of Commons, who was raised to the peerage as Lord Oriel.
Without doubt, Mr. Leslie Foster took double pains to become a lawyer, for
though called to the Irish bar in 1803, he had previously been admitted, by
the Society of Lincoln's Inn, in London, to the English bar also. In 1804, he
published a book *' On the Principles of Commercial Exchanges." He was
^industrious, besides being connected with the nobility by relationship and mar
riage, and got on in his profession. He was successively appointed Commia-
aioner of Education (salary twelve hundred pounds sterling a year) and counsel
to the Commissioners of Customs and Excise — the average annual income of
which, from 1818, when he entered into the office, until 1828 (when he re
ceived as "compensation," two thousand pounds sterling for life) was three
thousand seven hundred and thirty pounds sterling. Therefore these two ap
pointments, the duties of which were neither onerous njDr troublesome, gave
him about five thousand pounds sterling a year, besides the collateral business
coming to him, from the position he had thus obtained ; whatever other phe
nomenon marked his birth, Leslie Foster did not come into the world with a
wooden spoon in his mouth. His politics were intensely Toiy, and recommen
ded him to Trinity College, Dublin, as a *' marvellous proper man" to represent
its intolerance in Parliament. His maiden speech was delivered in April, 1812,
in opposition to Grattan's motion against the Penal Laws, and he published it in
a pamphlet. In Parliament, from first to last, he was consistent — in resisting
liberal measures, no matter by whom introduced. In July, 1830, the Duke of
Wellington made him one of the Barons of the Court of Exchequer in Ireland.
He was a laborious judge, and little more can bo said of him in that capacity.
In 1842, he was transfeiTed to the Court of Common Pleas. He went the
sumnier Assize, in 1842, and dined, apparently in good health, with the Sheriff
and Magistrates at Oavan, but was suddenly taken ill, had time to execute a
codicil to his will, and expired, July 10, 1842. He died immensely rich. — M.

MARQUIS OF ANGLESEY. 255
with an immense weight of intonation, and is not more ponder
ous and oracular in Parliament than at the bar. That gravity,
which Eochefoucauld has so Tvell called " a mystery of the
body," pervades his gesture, and sits in eternal repose upon his
countenance. He advances to his seat, at the inner bar, like
a priest walking in a procession ; he lays down his bag upon
the green table as if he were depositing a treasure ; he bows
to the court like a mandarin before the Emperor of China ;
quotes Tidd's Practice as a Eabbi would read the Talmud ;
-and opens the " Eules and Orders" as a sorcerer would unclasp
a book of incantation.
The solemnity which distinguishes him in Court, attends
him out of it. He traverses the Hall with a gait and aspect
of mystical meditation ; and when he has divested himself of
his forensic habiliments, still takes care to retain his walk of
egregious dignity upon his return to Merrion-square. Mr. Fos
ter has ascertained, with exact precision, the distance from his
house to the HaU of the Four Courts ; and has counted the
number of paces which it is requisite that he should perform,
whether he should go through College Green or by any of the
lanes at the back of Dublin Castle. Both these ways have
their attractions. In the centre of College Green stands the
statue of King William, on which Mr. Poster sometimes pauses
to cast a look, in which, of late, some melancholy has been
observed. The purlieus of the Castle are, however, his more
favorite, and perhaps appropriate walks, especially since the
order for Lord Anglesey's removal has arrived.* But, which-
* The Marquis of Anglesey, who was bom in 1768, was eldest son of the
late Earl of Uxbridge, and, after studying at Oxford, was appointed, in 1793,
when Lord Paget, to the command of a regiment he had raised among his
father's tenantiy. He served with this corps, under the Duke of York, in
Flanders, and again in the expedition to Holland, in 1799. He had risen to
the rank of Major-General when he joined Sir John Moore's army in the Penin
sula, and assisted in the reti-eat of Corunna, and the battle there, January 16,
1809, where Moore was killed. He was married, in 1795, to a daughter of
the Earl of Jersey, by whom he had eight children, but, soon after his return
from Portugal figured as defendant in a crim. con. suit, in which the plaintiff
was Mr. Henry Wellesley (brother to " Tho Duke," and created Lord Cowley,
in 1828), who obtained twenty thousand pounds sterling, damages. The re
sult was a double divorce : Lady Paget from him (she afterward married the

256 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
ever route he adopts, lie never deviates from that evenness
and regularity of gait "vvith "which he originally enumerated
the number of paces from his residence to the Hall.
I was a good deal at a loss to account for this peculiar demea
nor, until I had heard that Mr. Foster had spent some time
at Constantinople. He was introduced, upon one occasion,
to the Grand Seignior (a scene which he describes with great
particularity), and haig ever since retained an expression of
dignity, which it is supposed he copied from the lleis Effendi,
late Duke of Argyll), and Mr. Wellesley from his guilty wife, nee Lady Char
lotte Cadogan. Lord Paget maixied the frail fair, in 1810, and they had a
large family; two of their sons are members of the British House of Commons
now [1854]. — The trial and its revelations, gave much unenviable notoriety to
Lord Paget. He was alluded to by Byron, in the line,
*' And, worse of all, a Paget for your wife.
and Moore (albeit Little of a moralist), thus had his fling in a didactic poem,
called " The Skeptic, a philosophical satire :" —
*' Paget, who sees, upon his pillow laid,
A face for which ten thousand pounds were paid.
Can tell how quick, before a jury, flies
The spell that mocked the warm seducer's eyes."
Many years subsequently, when he had become viceroy, the Irish ladies
declined visiting his wife, and having caused the arrest of O'Connell, on a
charge of seditious language, the orator, in another speech, said, " He has
caused my wife to weep. Does he know the value of a ver/mms woman's tear?"
— In 1812, Lord Paget succeeded his father, as Eaii of Uxbridge. He had a
cavalry command at Waterloo, and having there lost a leg, was created Marquis
of Anglesey. In 1820, he voted for the bill of pains and penalties against Queen
Caroline. In February, 1828, " The Duke,"' who had just became Premier, sent
him to Ireland, as Vicero}', and his conduct there was generally impartial. But
in December, 1828, having received a letter from Dr. Curtis (the Catholic Pri
mate), which the Duke of Wellington had written to him, suggesting that tho
Catholic claims be " buried in oblivion'' for a time, Lord Anglesey wrote back
an epistle, which was published, recommending the continued agitation of the
question. This gave great offence to Georgo IV., who had become tired of
eternal discussions on Catholic wrongs, and the writer was recalled. Two
months after, the final settlement of the question was recommended in
the King's Speech, at the commencement of the Parliamentaiy Session. Soon
after, he was again made Viceroy of Ireland, and so continued until September,
1833. But his latter reign was not popular. He has held other high offices,
connected with the anny, and is the senior Field Marshal in the British army.
He is now (Januaij, 1854) in his eighty-sixth year. — M.

HIS PECCTLIAE EBTJDITION. 257
if not from the Sultan himself. Hitherto the negotiations with
the Porte have heen unsuccessful. If Mr. Foster were seat
out as our minister, such a sympathetic solemnity would take
place hetween him and the Grand Vizier, that many difficul
ties would, it is likely, be got rid of; and he would, by his
Asiatic diplomacy of countenance and his Oriental gravity of
look, accomplish far more than Lord Strangford* was able
to effect.
As a scholar, Mr. Leslie Foster is, beyond all doubt, a per
son of very various and minute ei'udition. In every drawing-
room and at every dinner-table at which he appears, amaze
ment is produced by the vastness of his knowledge ; and under
graduates from the College, and young ladies whose stockings
are hut darned with blue silk, wonder that even a head of
such great diameter should be capable of containing such
enormous masses of the most recondite and diversified lore.t
The President of the Eoyal Academy of Laputa, or the father
of Martinus Scriblerus, could not have surpassed him in the
character, the extent, and the ajTplication of his knowledge.
No matter what topics may be presented in the trivialities of
discourse, he avails himself of every opportunity to evacuate
his erudition. He buries every petty subject under the enor
mity of his learning, and piles a mountain on every pigmy
theme. If he finds a boy whipping a top, he stops to explain
the principles upon which it is put into motion, He is versed
in all points of science connected with the playing of marbles.
Should a pair of bellows fall in his way, he enters into a dis-
* Viscount Strangford, in the Irish, and Baron Penshurst, in the British peer
age, distinguished himself nearly half a century ago, as the translator of Camoens,
the Portuguese poet. For this, he "was duly niched and pedestaled by Byron,
in " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers." He was bom in 1780, and is yet
alive [1854] ; he has been Ambassador to Turkey, Russia, &c.— :-His son, Mr.
Smythe, formerly M. P. for Canterbury, has written some pretty verses, is a
good speaker, and, when in Parliament, was a leader of the Young England
party. — M.
t If the quantity of brains be estimated by the size of the skull, Mr. Leslie
Foster ought to have been a very clever man. His head was large, out of all
proportion, and had a curious oscillating motion, more peculiar than graceful
—something like the vibration of a Chinese Mandarin's image in a gjrocer's
window. — M.

258 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEPu.
sertation upon the structure of the htiman lungs ; and applies
to those domestic conveniences of which there is such a want
in the modern Athens, his learning in hydraulics.* In short,
* Such another "Admirable Crichton" as this, was to be found, a few years
ago, in the person of the late Egerton Smith, for many years editor of The
Liverpool Mercury, in England. He commenced life as a spectacle-maker, but
had small skill in that craft, and took to the press. He sprinkled his articles
with Gre«k and Latin sentences, rarely applicable to the subject, and apparently
taken, at hap-hazard from some Dictionaiy of Quotations. In a previous work
of mine, his character is sketched in full, and I take leave to reproduce it here.
— " He bore the rather uncommon patronymic of Smith. In his newspaper
he was chiefly distinguished by reason of the number of hobbies which he rode.
His original occupation of optician gave him a certain mechanical facility in
making toys — puzzles for the curious and the idle. Asserting that he was one
of the best swimmers in the world, his delight was to exhibit himself in the
Mersey, floundering like u. porpoise, and confident that the feats of Leander
and Byron were trifling in comparison with his o\^ti. Avowing the most phil
anthropic motives, he invented cork-jackets to prevent death by drowning, and
— sold them at a large profit. He contended that the boomerang of New South
Wales was a weapon worthy of being universally adopted in European warfare,
aud spent a whole summer in throwing this projectile into the air, to ascertain
its force, and perfect his own skill. But the triumph of his experiments and
discoveries in science, and that on which he chiefly prided himself, was to
show that a top (such as children of a lesser growth are accustomed to whip,
in play), might be kept spinning for half an hour upon a china plate. During
a series of years, he kept this subject before the public, in his newspaper, de
voting columns to its elucidations, imd adorning them with diagrams and wood
cuts, showing the course of the spinning top, with portraits of that new instru
ment of science. In his newspaper, also, were given views of the cork-jackets,
and sketches of the boomerang. There, too, were occasionally exhibited sketch
es of himself in the Mersey — floating, swimming, or trying to perform some
such notable aquatic feat. For a loilg series of years — certainly exceeding
thirty — half a column a week was dedicated, by this illustrious obscure, to
himself, his notions, and his hobbies. So strongly did he exhibit the spirit of
egotism in these articles, that it was frequently remarked, that his biography
might easily be compiled from the personal references to himself and his move
ments in the "Notices to Correspondents." On one occasion he announced,
that having charitably lent an old umbrella to a sti-ange lady, in a shower of
rain, she actually had the dishonesty not to return it, and during many succes
sive weeks, he poured out lamentations on his loss, describing the aspect of
the article, the attire of the non-returning borrower, and amusing the public
with his griefs over the missing umbrella,
" * Like the lost Pleiad, seen no more below.'
Nor were his personal confidences limited to his newspaper. Thence they
vere transferred to a cheap literaiy weakling which he also published, and

BOT SMITH. 259
he is omniscient ; and if I were a believer in the transmigra
tion of souls, I should be disposed to think that the spirit of
the professor at Bruges, who challenged all mankind to dis
pute with him ** de omni scibili et de quoltbet enie,^* had reap
peared in his person ; though I hope that he would be less
puzzled in solving the question of law proposed by Sir Thomas
More to that celebrated scholar respecting a replevin.*
finally found a resting-place in a monthly octavo composed of the picked mat
ter of his newspaper and periodical. Meddling with Cobbett, in an attempt
at political discussion, he incurred the anger of that nervous writer, who forth
with registered him as ' Bot Smith,' by which appellation, constantly repeated
by him of the Gridiron, he eventually became so well known, in and out of
Liverpool, that it was taken to be his true name, and letters were frequently so
addressed to him. In a word, his case affords a striking example of the very
small degree of intelligence sufficient to establish a local reputation as a *triton
of the minnows.' In a metropolis such a person would have speedily found
his level, beneath the feet of real merit. When he died, about the year 1841,
his townsmen gave him the honor of a public funeral, and I have heard that
they placed his statue in their Mechanics' Institute ! As the palette of Wilkie
was let into the pedestal of his statue in the National Gallery, in London, a
spinning-top and china-plate should have been introduced into the Smith statue
at Liverpool. When the Pickwick Papers introduced the clever and striking full-
length of Mr. Pott, Editor of the Eatanswill Gazette, many persons in Liver
pool fancied that independent of the name being suggestive of the soubriquet
bestowed on him by Cobbett, the original could have been no other than their
own philosopher of the spinning-top. The appearance — 'a tall, thin man,
with a sandy-colored head inclined to baldness, and a face in which solemn
importance was blended, with a look of unfathomable profundity;' the invari
able attire — 'a long brown surtout, with a black cloth waistcoat, and drab
trousers;' the constant reference in conversation, to articles which he had
written in his newspaper on local politics, the interest of which, trifling at any
time, had long since passed away; the ruling idea, that throughout the coun
try in general, and in London in particular, there was an intense excitement
caused by whatever he wrote ; the constant and uncourteous abuse of all oppo
sing journalists; and, to crown all, the triumphant boast that his critic had
^vritten on Chinese Metaphysics by reading in the Encyclopedia under C for
China, and under M for Metaphysics, and *had combined his information,' —
if all these coincidences were accidental, then, at hap-hazard, did Mr. Dickens
unconsciously exhibit a person and an idiosyncracy remarkably like those of
Mr. Bot Smith."— M.
* Mr. Foster is deeply versed in Irish antiquities. He alleges that he dis
covered in the county of Kerry, a very singular building, which is called Staigne '
Fort, General Vallancey thought that it was a Phoenician theatre. I am not
awaie what conjecture Mr. Foster formed respecting it; probably he takes it

260 JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
I pass, by a natural transition, from the vast acquirements
of Mr. Foster, to that office which, from its connection with
learning, it would appear at first view that he was admirably
qualified to fill. He was, for a considerable period, a Commis
sioner of Education, with an enormous salary; and thus, with
the sums which he has received as a Commissioner of Inquiry
into the Courts of Justice, and his vast emoluments as counsel
to the Commissioners of Customs and Excise, Mr. Poster has
poured an immense quantity of the public money into his cof
fers. But, however the love of learning, and its unquestion
able possession, might appear to render Mr. Foster an eligible
person to investigate the progress of education, yet his predi
lections, both political and religious, were so strong,' that the
Roman Catholics considered the appointment of a person so
legally orthodox, to report upon the state of their schools, as
an injustice.
In order to give some aspect of fairness to this proceeding,
and to create a counterpoise to his prejudices, the Government
united with Mr. Foster, a gentleman in every way well adapted
to encounter him, the Remembrancer of the Court of Exche
quer, Mr. Blake. I believe that it was not anticipated that
that gentleman would have approved himself so stout and
for an old conventicle, employed by the Irish Christians before Popery was
in use. Mr. Bland, the writer of an essay in the Trajisactions of the Royal
Irish Academy, makes the following observations upon Mr. Foster's claims to
the discovery of this building : " About nine years back, Mr. Leslie Foster
visited this country, and passed Staigne by unnoticed ; but being prevailed on
by me, he was reluctantly induced to return and see it. He afterward published,
in some periodical work or newspaper, an account of it ; and being ignorant,
I suppose, of what I have stated, respecting Mi*. Pelham's correspondence with
General Vallancey, he considered himself the first discoverer of this ancient
structure.'' — Vol. XIV. p. 22. [General Vallancey, who was bom in 1721, and
wrote much upon the Antiquities of Ireland, was not " a son of the sod.*' In
his youth, when quartered in Ireland as an officer of engineers, he closely stLd-
ied the language, antiquities, and topography of the island. He closely &nd
scientifically surveyed it (for which Government gave him one thousand pounds
sterling), and besides conti'ibuting to various periodicals, wrote a Grammar and
Dictionary of the Irish language, " Collectanea de Rebus Hibemicis," &c.
Finally, ho attained the rank of General. The object of most of his Irish
works was to show, I believe, that Ireland was peopled by the Phoenicians.
When Vallancey died (in 1812), he was more than ninety years old. — M.]

BLAKE AND FOSTEE. 261
uncompromising an asserter of the interests of his country^and
the honor of his religion. Mr. Foster had originally, from his
previous habits of mystical research, and from his familiarity
with the mysterious, great advantages over Mr. Blake, in
examining the Catholic priesthood upon questions of dogmatic
theology; but Mr. Blake, who has extraordinary powers of
acquiring knowledge, and of fitting his mind to every intellec
tual occupation, resolved to make himself a match for this
Aquinas of Protestantism, and threw himself off from the ¦
heights of the law into the deepest lore into which Mr. Poster
had ever plunged. He rose from the dark bottoms of divinity
as black and as begrimed with mysteries as his brother Com
missioner; and, thus prepared, they set off upon their tour
through the Catholic colleges of Ireland.
The object of Leslie Foster was to bring out whatever was
unfavorable to the Irish priesthood ; while Mr. Blake (himself
a Roman Catholic) justly endeavored to rectify the miscon
structions of his brother inquirer, and to present the doctrines
of his religion, and the character of its ministers, in the least
exceptionable form. When Mr. Foster got hold of a country
priest, and put him to his shifts by some interrogatory touching
the decrees of the earlier Councils, Mr. Blake would intervene,
and rescue his fellow-Catholic from his embarrassments by
suggesting a solution of the difSculty ; and, without getting
into it, helped him out of the deep quagmire of theology into
which his examiner had led him. If Mr. Poster attempted to
quote a passage from some moth-eaten folio with any deviation
from a just fidelity of citation, Mr. Blake would ijnmediately
detect him. Mr. Poster would rely upon the disputable ethics
of some ancient Catholic schoolman ; and Mr. Blake would
straight produce a Protestant divine who inculcated the same
doctrine. Sometimes Mr. Blake, not contented with acting on
the defensive, would invade the enemy's territory ; and if an
ex-priest were tendered by Mr. Foster for cross-examination,
the Popish Remembrancer of the Exchequer exhibited all his
acumen and dexterity in exposing the renegade. A person of
the name of Dickson, who had been a Catholic priest, was
produced in order to vilify Maynooth, where he had received

262 JOHN LESLIE FOSTER.
his eleemosynary education. Mr. Blake took hold of him, and,
by a series of admirable interrogatories, eminently distin
guished by astuteness and power of combination, laid this
deserter of his altars bare, and tore off his apostate surplice.
But this was not the most remarkable instance in which Mr.
Poster was foiled in his efforts to convert his office into the
means of promoting his religious and political opinions. He
had the misfortune to fall into the hands of the Provincial of
the Jesuits in Ireland, the Rev. Mr. Kenny. A desire was, if
I rightly recollect, expressed by Sir T. Lethbridge,* that a
Jesuit should be produced at the bar of the House of Commons,
in order that some sort of judgment .should be formed of the
peculiar nature of the ecclesiastical animal. Mx-. Kenny is the
most perfect specimen of this class of Catholic phenomena that
could be produced. He wants, it must be confessed, some of
the external attributes which should enter into the composition
of the beau ideal of Jesuitism. He is by no means gracefully
constructed; for there is a want of level about his shoulders,
and. his countenance, when uninvested with his spiritual expres
sion, is rather of a forbidding and lurjd cast. The eyes are
of deep and fiery jet, and so disposed, that while one is hent
in humility to the earth, the other is raised in inspiration to
Heaven; — brows of thick and bushy black spread in straight
lines above them. His rectilinear forehead is strongly in
dented with passion — satire sits upon his thin lips, and a livid
hue is spread over a quadrangular face, the sunken cheeks of
which exhibit the united effects of monastic abstinence and
profound njeditation. The countenance is Irish in its configur
ation ; but Mr. Kenny was educated at Palermo, and a Sicilian
suavity of manner is thrown, like a fine silken veil, over his
strong Hibernian features. The beaming rays of his eye are
seldom allowed to break out, for they are generally hent to the
ground, and habitually concealed by lids, fringed with long
dark lashes, which drop studiously over them.
Such is the outward Jesuit : — his talents and acquirements
* A county member of Parliament, bull-headed and intolerant, who, from the
material of one of his garments, was usually called " Sir Thomas Leather-
breeches." — M.

A JESUIT. 263
are of the first order, and in argumentative eloquence he has
no superior in Ireland. Leslie Foster, in the spirit of theologi
cal chivalry, and having set up as a knight-errant against
popery, happened to meet with this disciple of Loyala, and
resolved to break a syllogism with him. Mr. Kenny was duly
summoned to attend the Commissioners of Education, and
upon this occasion the interposition of Mr. Blake was quite
unnecessary. With a blended expression of affected humility
and bitter mockery, the follower of Ignatius answered all Mr.
Foster's questions, correcting the virulence of sarcasms by the
softness of his mellifluous cadences, and hj' the religious clasp
ing of his hands, which were raised in such a way as to touch
the extremities of his chin, while he lamented, with a dolorous
, voice, thS lamentable ignorance and delusion of the gentleman
who could, in the nineteenth century, put him such prepos
terous interrogatories.
Leslie Poster was baffled by every response, and amid the
jeers of his brother Commissioners, with Mr. Blake compas
sionating him on one side, and Mr. Glascot* nudging him at
the other, while Prankland Lewis trod upon his toes, was at
length persuaded to give up his desperate undertaking. Some
of the questions put to the Jesuit were rather of an offensive
character; and one of the Commissioners, when the examirm- '
tion had concluded, begged that he would make allowance for
the imperious sense of duty which had induced Mr. I'oster to
commit an apparent violation of the canons of good breeding.
"Holy Ignatius !" exclaimed the son of Loyola, holding his
arms meekly upon his breast, " I am not offended — I never
saw a more simple-minded gentleman in all my life !"
Mr. Foster, so far as the receipt of the public money is con
cerned, does not bear out the Jesuit's ejaculation. He has not
proved himself exceedingly simple, by uniformly adopting that
course of political conduct which was calculated to advance
his personal interests and to better his fortune. I have already
mentioned that he received large annual stipends from Govern-
* Toby Glascot was a sharp Dublin attorney, who sided with the then dom
inant Ascendency party. In 1829, he made a show of starting as a candidate,
against O'Connell, after the Catholic Relief BiU was passed. — M.

264: JOHN LESLIE FOSTEE.
ment as commissioner of education and of justice. His chief
source of emolument, the fountain from which his Pactolus
flows, is in the revenue of Ireland ; and, I conceive that, in his
instance, a very unqualified job has recently been eifected,
notwithstanding all the boasted cleansing of that Cloaca
Maxima, the Customhouse. I put all levity aside, because, in
™y judgment, the expedient by which an annual sum of two
thousand pounds sterling has been given to him calls for decided
condemnation ; and furthermore, I am of opinion, that he is
bound to resign his seat in Parliament under the Irish statute
passed in the thirty-third year of the late King.
Mr. Foster was appointed counsel to the Commissioners of
Customs and Excise in April, 1818. He succeeded Sir Charles
Ormsby, with a salary of one hundred pounds sterling a yeari
payable by the Board of Customs, with certain fees on each
brief. The Irish Board of Customs was annihilated by the
Consolidation Act, which abolished the employments held
under their authority. The office held by Mr. Foster was
abolished as never having been necessary or useful, and the
Lords of the Treasury recognise that abolition. If Mr. Foster
has lost his original appointment, and in lieu thereof the Grown
retain him (is not every information in the name- of the
Crown, and is he not its counsel 1) " to act as counsel to the
Board, with a salary of 662000 a year," to be payable without
any reference to the extent or even the existence of business,
this is a new office under the Crown ; and if it be, he must
resign his seat, under the 33d of George III., cap. 41, in which
it is enacted, by section, 4, that, " if any member of the House
of Commons shall accept any office of profit from the Crown,
during such time as he shall continue a member, his seat shall
thereupon become vacant, and a writ shall issue fpr a new
election." The 41st of George III. virtually re-enacts these
clauses. In that event, Harry Mills and the Doctor will again
parade the streets of Dundalk ; Leslie Poster will again wipe
the cold exsudation from his forehead with an orange kerchief,
but he will not again be carried in triumph through the woods
of Cullen, amidst the applauses of the yeomanry, the hurras
of the parson, the sexton, and the parish clerk, and the accla
mations of the police.

THE CLARE ELECTION, IN 1828.
The Catholics had passed a resolution, at one of their aggre
gate meetings, to oppose the election of every candidate who
should not pledge himself against the Duke of Wellington's
Administration. This measure lay for some time a mere dead
letter in the registry of the Association, and was gradually
passing into oblivion, when an incident occurred which gave it
an importance far greater than had originally belonged to it.
Lord John Russell, flushed with the victory which had been
achieved in the repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts,* and
grateful to the Duke of Wellington for the part which he had
taken, wrote a letter to Mr. O'Connell, in which he suggested
that the conduct of his Grace had been so fair and manly tow
ard the Dissenters as to entitle him to their gratitude ; and
that they would consider the reversal of the resolution which
had been passed against his government as evidence of the in
terest which was felt in Ireland, not only in the great question
peculiarly applicable to that country, but in the assertion of
religious freedom through the empire. The authority of Lord
John Russell is considerable, and Mr. O'Connell, under the
influence of his advice, proposed that the anti-Wellington res-
* In February, 1828, Lord John Russell introduced a bill for the abohtion
of the Test and Corporation Acts (which subjected Dissenters to civil disabili
ties on account of their religious faith), and it passed into a law that session,
chiefly in consequence of the feeble opposition offered to it by Peel, then Min
isterial leader in the Commons. In truth, Peel was just then in a transition
state, having seen that the old Tory system of intolerance could not continue,
and scarcely knowing how to change it. Observant politicians judged, when
relief was afforded to the Dissenters, that justice to the Catholics must follow i
it did, in 1829. — M.
Vol, II.— 12

266 CLAHE ELECTION.
olution should be withdrawn. This motion was violently op
posed, and Mr. O'Connell perceived that the antipathy to the
Great Captain was more deeply rooted than he had originally
imagined. After a long and tempestuous debate, he suggested
an amendment, in which the principle of his original motion
was given up, and the Catholics remained pledged to their
hostility to the Duke of Wellington's Administration. Mr.
O'Connell has reason to rejoice at his failure in carrying this
proposition; for, if he had succeeded, no ground for opposing
the return of Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald would have existed.
The promotion of that gentleman to a seat in the Cabinet
created a vacancy in the representation of the county of Clare;
and an opportunity was afforded to the Roman Catholic body
of proving that the resolution which had been passed against
the Duke of Wellington's Government was not an idle vaunt,
but that it could be carried in a striking instance into effect.
It was determined that all the power of the people should bo
put forth.* The Association looked round for a candidate, and,
* Clare Election, the unexpected result of which certainly compelled Wel
lington and Peel to grant Catholic Emancipation in 1829, look place under the
following circumstances. The Catholic Association had resolved to oppose the
election or re-election of any member of a Government hostile to the Catholic
claims. On June 13, 1828 (the Duke of Wellington being Premier), Mr. Vesey
Fitzgerald, who had always voted for the Catholics, was gazetted President of
the Board of Trade, the holder of which office is always a Cabinet Minister.
On the 16th of June, he was also appointed Treasurer to the Navy. It is a
constitutional rule, in England, that no office, having emolument attached, can
be conferred by the Crown on a member of the House of Commons, without
his thereby vacating his seat : which explains how, on a change of Ministry,
Parliamentary business is usually suspended until the new officials have gone
back to their different constituencies, for re-election or rejection. Mr. Fitz
gerald, who was M. P. for Clare county, therefore, had to present himself to
the electors; and did so, without any anticipation of rejection. Mr. O'Connell,
on becoming a candidate, pledged his professional reputation (than which none
was higher) on his assertion that, if elected, he could take his seat in the
House of Commons without taking the then usual oath that the Catholic reli
gion was idolatrous. Mr. Charles Butler, tbe eminent Catholic bai'rister of
London, well known as an erudite constitutional lawyer, unexpectedly backed
this aosertion by an elaborate argument wbich went to show that Mr. O'Con
nell's view was right. The election commenced on June 30, 1828, and pro
ceeded as graphically relate'd by Mr. Sheil. The entire constituency of the

MAJOE MACNAMAEA. 267
without having previously consulted him, re-elected Major
M'Namara, a Protestant in religion, a Catholic in politics, and
a Milesian in descent. Although he is equally well known in
Dublin and in Clare, his provincial is distinct from his metro
politan reputation. In Dublin he may be seen at half-past four
o'clock, strolling, with a lounge of easy importance, toward
Kildare-street Club-house, and dressed in exact imitation of
the King [George IV.] ; to whose royal whiskers the Major's
are considered to bear a profusely-powdered and highly -frizzled
affinity. Not contented with this single point of resemblance,
he has, by the entertainment of " a score or two of tailors," and
the profound study of the regal fashions, achieved a complete
look of Majesty ; and, by the turn of his coat, the dilation of
his chest, and an aspect of egregious dignity, succeeded in pro
ducing in his person a very fine effigy of his sovereign.
With respect to his moral qualities, he belongs to the good
old school of Irish gentlemen; and, from the facility of his
manners, and his graceful mode of arbitrating a difference, has
acquired a very eminent character as " a friend." No man is
better versed in the strategies of Irish honor. He chooses the
county of Clare was eight thousand, of whom two hundred were twenty and
fifty pound freeholders and rent-chargers, while the rest were forty-shilling free
holders — the class who had beaten the Beresfords, at Waterford election, in
1826, and would have been disfranchised, by one of the "wings," had the
Catholic Relief Bill been passed the year before. The polling terminated on
Saturday, July 5, 1828. and the result showed — for O'Connell, 2,057 ; for Fitz
gerald, 982: majority for O'Connell, 1,075. When the state of the poll was
announced, the friends of Mr. Fitzgerald presented a protest to the High-
Sheriff, who was the returning-officer, claiming that Mr. F. be declared duly
elected, because Mr. O'Connell was a Catholic, and had publicly declared that
he would not take the usual oaths to sit in Parliament. The case was fully
argued before the Sheriff and his assessor (a lawyer of eminence), and the result
was that Mr. O'Connell must be returned as duly elected by a majority of votes ;
that the law did not disqualify a Catholic from being so elected ; and that
whether O'Connell would or would not refuse to take the oaths, to which he
objected, could not be ascertained until his appearance in the House of Com
mons. So, he was declared member, and his first frank was on a letter com
municating the intelligence to his wife. He exercised the privilege of frank
ing (abolished by the penny-postage act in 1840) from the day of his election
until the time after the Catholic Relief Bill was passed, when he was not allowed
to take Ids seat without taking the old oaths, which he refused to do. — M.

268 CLAEE ELECTION.
ground with an O'Trigger eye, and by a glance over " the fif
teen acres," is able to select, with an instantaneous accuracy,
the finest position for the settlement of a quarrel.* In his cal
culation of distances, he displays a peculiarly scientific genius;
and, whether it be expedient to bring down your antagonist
at a long shot, or at a more embarrassed interval of feet, you
may be sure of the Major's loading to a grain. In the county
of Clare he does not merely enact the part of a sovereign. He
is the chief of the clan of the M'Namaras, and after rehearsing
the royal character at Kildare street, the moment he arrives
on the coast of Clare, and visits the oyster-beds at Poldoody,t
becomes " every inch a king." He possesses great influence
with the people, which is founded upon far better grounds than
their hereditary reverence for the Milesian nobility of Ireland.
He is a most excellent magistrate. If a gentleman should en
deavor to crush a poor peasant. Major M'Namara is ready to
protect him, not only with the powers of his office, but at the
risk of his life. This creditable solicitude for the rights and
the interests of the lower orders had rendered him most de
servedly popular ; and, in naming him as their representative,
the Association could not have made a more judicious choice.|
He was publicly called upon to stand.
Some days elapsed, and no answer was returned by the Ma
jor. The public mind was thrown into suspense, and various
conjectures went abroad as to the cause of this singular omis
sion. Some alleged that he was gone to an island off the coast
of Clare, where the proceedings of the Association had not
reached him ; while others suggested that he was only waiting
until the clergy of the county should declare themselves more
* In Phoenix Park, the suburban residence of the Lord-Lieutenant, a par
ticular part, called "The Fifteen Acres," was noted as the place wheie the
Dublin duellists generally had their little " affairs of honor." Duelling is nearly
extinct in Ireland now. — M.
t The Poldoody and Carlingford oysters were as popular in Ireland as the
Colchester and Milton in London, or the Shrewsbury and Bast River in New
York. — M.
X Major M'Namara, who was O'Connell's second in the duel with D'Bsten'e,
in 1815, was returned to Parliament, by his Clai-e neighbors, after Catholic
Emancipation was obtained, and usually voted with O'Connell. He died much
respected by all parties, but was a very commonplace man. — M.

THE EIVAL PEIESTHOOD. 269
unequivocally favorable to him. The latter, it was said, had
evinced much apathy ; and it was rumored that Dean O'Shaugh-
nessy, who is a distant relative of Mr. Fitzgerald, had inti
mated a determination not to support any anti-ministerial can
didate. The Major's silence, and the doubts which were enter
tained with regard to the allegiance of the priests, created a
sort of panic at the Association. A meeting was called, and
various opinions were delivered as to the propriety of engaging
in a contest, the issue of which was considered exceedingly
doubtful, and in which failure would be attended with such
disastrous consequences. Mr. O'Connell himself did not ap
pear exceedingly sanguine; and Mr. Purcell O'Gorman, a na
tive of Clare, and who had a minute knowledge of the feelings
of the people, expressed apprehensions.
There were, however, two gentlemen (Mr. O'Gorman Mahon
and Mr. Steele), who strongly insisted that the people might
be roused, and that the priests were not as lukewarm as was
imagined. Upon the zeal of Dean O'Shaughnessy, however,
a good deal of question was thrown. By a singular coinci
dence, just as his name was uttered, a gentleman entered, who,
but for the peculiar locality, might have been readily mistaken
for a clergyman of the Established Church. Between the
priesthood of the two religions there are, in aspect and de
meanor, as well as in creed and discipline, several points of
affinity, and the abstract sacerdotal ch,aracter is readily per
ceptible in both. The parson, however, in his attitude and
attire, presents the evidences of superiority, and carries the
mannerism of ascendency upon him. A broad-brimmed hat,
composed of the smoothest and blackest material, and drawn
by two silken threads into a fire-shovel configuration, a felici
tous adaptation of his jerkin to the symmetries of his chest and
shoulder, stockings of glossy silk, which displayed the happy
proportions of a finely-swelling leg, a ruddy cheek, and a bright,
authoritative eye, suggested, at first view, that the gentleman
who had entered the room while the merits of Dean O'Shaugh
nessy were under discussion, must be a minister of the prosper
ous Christianity of the Established Church. It was, however,
no other than Dean O'Shaughnessy himself.

270 CLAEE ELECTION.
He was received with a burst of applause, which indicated
that, whatever surmises with respect to his fidelity had previ
ously gone out, his appearance before that tribunal (for it is
one) was considered by the assembly as a proof of his devotion
to the public interest. The Dean, however, made a very scho
lastic sort of oration, the gist of which it was by no means easy
to arrive at. He denied that he had enlisted himself under
Mr. Fitzgerald's banners, but at the same time studiously
avoided giving any sort of pledge. He did not state distinctly
what his opinion was with respect to the co-operation of the
priests with the Association ; and, when he was pressed, begged
to be allowed to withhold his sentiments on the subject. The
Association were not, however, dismayed ; and it having been
conjectured that the chief reason for Major M'Namara having
omitted to return an answer was connected with pecuniary con
siderations, it was decided that so large a sum as five thousand
pounds of the Catholic rent should be allocated to the expenses
of his election.
Mr. O'Gorman Mahon and Mr. Steele were directed to pro
ceed at once to Clare, in order that they might have a personal
interview with him ; and they immediately set off. After an
absence of two days, Mr. O'Gorman Mahon returned, having
left his colleague behind in order to arouse the people ; and he
at length conveyed certain intelligence with respect to the
Major's determination. The obligations under which his fam
ily lay to Mr. Fitzgerald were such, that he was bound in
honor not to oppose him. This information produced a feeling
of deep disappointment among the Catholic body, while the
Protestant party exulted in his apparent desertion of the cause,
and boasted that no gentleman of the county would stoop so
low as to accept of the patronage of the Association. In this
emergency, and when it was universally regarded as an utterly
hopeless attempt to oppose the Cabinet Minister, the public
were astonished by an address from Mr. O'Connell to the free
holders of Clare, in which he offered himself as a candidate,
and solicited their support.
Nothing but his subsequent success could exceed the sensa
tion which was produced by this address, and all eyes were

VESKY FITZGEEALD. 271
turned toward the field in which so remarkable a contest was
to he waged. The two candidates entered the lists with sig
nal advantages upon both sides. Mr. O'Connell had an un
paralleled popularity, which the services of thirty years had
secured to him. Upon the other hand, Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald
presented a combination of favorable circumstances, which
rendered the issue exceedingly difficult to calculate.* His
father had held the office of Prime Sergeant at the Irish Bar;
and, although indebted to the Government for his promotion,
had the virtuous intrepidity to vote against the Union. This
example of independence had rendered him a great favorite
with the people. From the moment that his son had obtained
access to power, he had employed his extensive influence in
doing acts of kindness to the gentry of the County of Clare.
He had inundated it with the overflowings of ministerial
bounty. The eldest sons of the poorer gentlemen, and the
younger branches of the aristocracy, had been provided for
through his means; and in the army, the navy, the treasury,
the Four Courts, and the Customhouse, the proofs of his politi
cal friendship were everywhere to be found.
* WiRiam Vesey Fitzgerald was the son of James Fitzgerald, once Prime
Sergeant of Ireland, and Catherine Vesey, a rich co-heiress. James Fitzgerald
who had held several high offices in Ireland, opposed the contemplated Legis
lative Union with Great Britain, and threw up his rank of Prime Sergeant,
which placed him at the head of the legal profession in Ireland, whence his
transition to the judicial ermine was certain. His giving up place, for the sake
of his country, made him extremely popular. His eldest son entered Parlia
ment, and successively became Privy Councillor, Chancellor of the Irish Ex
chequer, Paymaster of the Forces, and President of the Board of Trade. He
invariably supported Catholic Emancipation, and not the less warmly because
the Catholic leader defeated him at Clare. His mother was created Baroness
Fitzgerald and Vesci, in 1827. On her death, in 1832, Vesey Fitzgerald suc
ceeded to this title, as her eldest son. In January, 1835, his father went to his
long and last resting-place, aged 93. In the same year, his son received an
English, in addition to his Irish barony, and became a Peer of the United King
dom. When he died in 1843 (as Lord Fitzgerald and Vesci) he was Lord
Lieutenant of Clare. He was, in all respects, an accomplished gentleman, an
elegant if not eloquent speaker, a tried friend of the Catholics, aad an excel
lent man of business. At the Clare Election, in 1828, his good temper, true
courtesy, and undoubted amiability, won him " heaps of friends" even among
the very men who voted against him. Mr. Sheil, in writing of him, involunta
rily shows how greatly, while he opposed, he estimated him. — M.

272 CLAJiE ELECTION.
Independently of any act of his which could be referred to
his personal interest, and his anxiety to keep up his influence
in the county, Mr. Fitzgerald, who is a man of very amiable
disposition, had conferred many services upon his Clare ac
quaintances. Nor was it to Protestants that these manifesta
tions of favor were confined. He had laid not only the Cath
olic proprietors, but the Catholio priesthood, under obligation.
The Bishop of the diocese himself (a respectable old gentle
man who drives about in a gig with a mitre upon it) is sup
posed not to have escaped from his bounties ; and it is more
than insinuated that some droppings of ministerial manna had
fallen upon him. The consequence of this systematized and
uniform plan of benefaction is obvious. The sense of obliga
tion was heightened by the manners of this extensive distrib
uter of the favors of the Crown, and converted the ordinary
feeling of thankfulness into one of personal regard. To this
array of very favorable circumstances, Mr. Fitzgerald brought
the additional influence which arose from his recent promotion
to the Cabinet; which, to those who had former benefits to
return, afforded an opportunity for the exercise of that kind of
prospective gratitude which ha"s been described to consist of a
lively sense of services to come. These were the comparative
advantages with which the ministerial and the popular candi
date engaged iu this celebrated contest ; and Ireland stood by
to witness the encounter.
Mr. O'Connell did not immediately set off from Dublin ; but,
before his departure, several gentlemen were despatclied from
the Association in order to excite the minds of the people, and
to prepare the way for him. The most active and useful of
the persons who were employed upon this occasion were the
two gentlemen to whom I have already referred, Mr. Steele
and Mr. O'Gorman. They are both deserving of special com
mendation. The former is a Protestant of a respectable for
tune in the County of Clare,* and who has all his life been
The late " Tom Steele,'' as he was familiarly called, is supposed not to
have had an enemy in the world. He was born November 3, 1788, and was a
member of a Protestant family in Clare, where he succeeded to considerable
landed property. He was a graduate of the Universities of Dublin and Cam-

THOMAS STEELE. 2Y3
devoted to the assertion of liberal principles. In Trinity Col
lege, he was among the foremost of the advocates of emanci
pation, and at that early period became the intimate associate
of many Eoman Catholic gentlemen who have since distin-
bridge and distinguished himself at both; a member of the London Institution
of Civil Engineers (admitted for his improvements in diving machinery anc"
sub-marine illumination) ; one of the defenders of Cadiz, in 1823, under the
command of Sir Robert Wilson ; seconded O'Connell's nomination at Clare
election in 1828; was an original member of Birmingham Political Union
from its formation in 1830, and thus an instrument of the Grey Ministry in car
rying the Refonn Bill ; threw himself, with intense earnestness, into the Eman
cipation anti-tithe, and Repeal movements; was O'Connell's Head Pacificator
and Repeal Warden-in-Chief for all Ireland ; took part in the Monster Meet
ings of 1843 ; was tried and convicted, with O'Connell and the other repealers, in
1844; suffered the like imprisonment with them, which was subsequently declared
by the House of Lords to be illegal ; and died in June, 1848, at Peele's Coffee-
House, in London, in such extreme want, that he would have starved but for
the humanity of the landlord, who kindly allowed him to want for nothing.
Bitter necessity had broken his heart, and driven him to despair. His last
moments were soothed by the sympathy, bounty, and personal kindness of Lord
Brougham and Colonel Perceval (the Orangeman) with both of whom, as pub
lic men, he had waged political strife. How his fortune went it is hard to say.
His personal expenditure was small. He disbursed a good deal in scientific
investigations, and also in attempting to improve the navigation of the Shan
non at his own expense — his plan has since been successfully earned out by a
Parliamentary grant. In the State Trials of 1844, when he was very restless
and talkative, interrupting the proceedings, Mr. Smith, then Attorney-General,
turned round and said, " Steele, if you do not keep quiet, I shall certainly strike
your name out of the indictment." This threat of depriving him of the honors
of political persecution and martyrdom, immediately silenced Tom Steele ! He
was a tall, muscular, well-built man, who arrayed himself in a military blue frock,
with the Repeal button. His face was full of amiability and honesty. He
spoke more earnestly than eloquently. He was one of the most sincere and
least selfish of public men. He had not room in his heart for one ungenerous
or unmanly feeling. He loved O'Connell with a love almost passing that of
woman. Ireland ought not to have allowed Tom Steele to die, almost a
pauper, in a foreign land. His departure from life should have been in the
country he would have died to serve, amid "troops of friends," and not to be
" By strangers honored, and by strangers mourned."
I remember when his death (and its manner) was communicated to tbe Lon
doners, how men whom I had always considered apathetic, met me in the
Street, pressed my hand, which had often been grasped in his, and said, in bro
ken accents, and with moistened eyes, " Poor Tom Steele." The chivalry oi
his character and conduct had smitten the rock, and the fountain of feeling
guflhed forth, when his gallant life had passed away. — M.
12**

274 CLAJIE ELECTIOIT.
fished themselves in the proceedings of their body. Being a
man of independent circumstances, Mr. Steele did not devote
liimself to any profession, and having a zealous and active
mind, he looked round for occupation. The Spanish war
afforded him a field for the display of that generous enthusiasm
by which he is distinguished. He joined the patriot army,
and fought with a desperate valor upon the batteries of the
Trocadero. It was only when Cadiz had surrendered, and
the cause of Spain became utterly hopeless, that Mr. Steele
relinquished this noble undertaking. He returned to England,
surrounded by exiles from the unfortunate country for the
liberation of which he had repeatedly exposed his life. It
was impossible for a man of so much energy of character to
remain in torpor ; and on his arrival in Ireland, faithful to the
principles by which he had been uniformly swayed, he joined
the Catholic Association. There he delivered several power
ful and enthusiastic declamations in favor of religious liberty.
Such a man, however, was fitted for action as well as for
harangue ; and the moment the contest in Clare began, he
threw himself into the combat with the same alacrity with
which he had rushed upon the French bayonets at Cadiz.
He was serviceable in various ways. He opened the political
campaign by intimating his readiness to fight any landlord who
should conceive himself to be aggrieved by an interference
with his tenants. This was a very impressive exordium. He
then proceeded to canvass for votes; and, assisted by his
intimate friend Mr. O'Gorman Mahon, travelled through the
country, and, by both day and night, addressed the people
from the altars round which they were assembled to hear him.
It is no exaggeration to say, that to him, and to his intrepid
and indefatigable confederate, the success of Mr. O'Connell
is greatly to be ascribed.
Mr. O'Gorman Mahon is introduced into this article as one
among many figures. He would deserve to stand apart in a
portrait.* Nature has been peculiarly favorable to him. He
* James O'Goi-man Mahon subsequently entered Parliament, and made some
good speeches on popular subjects. He was declared unseated for want of
property qualification (three hundi'ed pounds sterling for a borough, and five

ME. o'gorman mahon. 275
has a very striking physiognomy, of the Corsair character,
which the Protestant Gulnares, and the Catholic Medoras, find
it equally difScult to resist. His figure is tall, and he is pecu
liarly free and degage in all his attitudes and movements. In
any other his attire would appear singularly fantastical. His
manners are exceedingly frank and natural, and have a char
acter of kindliness as well as of self-reliance imprinted upon
them. He is wholly free from embarrassment and mauvaise
honte, and carries a well-founded consciousness of his personal
merit ; which is, however, so well united with urbanity, that
it is not in the slightest degree offensive. His talents as a
popular speaker are considerable. He derives from external
qualifications an influence over the multitude, which men of
diminutive stature are somewhat slow of obtaining. A little
man is at first view regarded by the great body of spectators
with disrelish ; and it is only by force of phrase, and by the
charm of speech, that he can at length succeed in inducing
his auditors to overlook any infelicity of configuration ; but
when O'Gorman Mahon throws himself out before the people,
and, touching his whiskers with one hand, brandishes the
other, an enthusiasm is at once produced, to which the fair
portion of the spectators lend their tender contribution. Such
a man was exactly adapted to the excitement of the people of
Clare ; and it must be admitted, that by his indefatigable
exertions, his unremitting activity, and his devoted zeal, he
most materially assisted in the election of Mr. O'Connell.
While Mr. Steele and Mr. O'Gorman Mahon harangued the
people in one district, Mr. Lawless, who was also despatched
upon a similar mission, applied his faculties of excitation in
another. This gentleman has obtained deserved celebrity by
his being almost the only individual among the Irish deputies
who remonstrated against the sacrifice of the rights of the
forty-shilling freeholders. Ever since that period he has been
eminently popular ; and although he may occasionally, by
hundred pounds a year for a county member) and abandoned public life for a
considerable time. He again entered Parliament, in 1847, but was not re
elected in 1852 He was a remarkably handsome man, in 1828 ; and dressed
in a ihowy manner. — M.

276 CLAEE ELECTION.
ebullitions of ill-regulated but generous enthusiasm, create a
little merriment among those whose minds ax-e not as suscep
tible of patriotic and disinterested emotion as his own, yet the
conviction which is entertained of his honesty of purpose, con-
fei'S upon him a considerable influence. " Honest Jack Law
less" is the designation by which he has been known since the
" wings" were in discussion.* He has many distinguished
'* To have been called " Honest Jack Lawless," and to have merited the
name, must be considered a great distinction. John Lawless originally studied
for the Iiish bar, but his friendship for, and presumed connection with Robert
Emmett, in 180.3, caused Lord Clare to reject his application for admission.
Lawless, who was full of energy, bore this with great philosophy, and, relin
quishing law and precedents for malt and hops, next became partner in a brew
ery at Dublin. After this, he yielded to his political and litei-ary tastes, and be
came editor of a newspaper in Newiy, where he obtained so high a reputation
for the touch-and-go talent which makes alike a light comedian and a " gentleman
of the press,*' that he was invited to Belfast, where he established and conducted
an excellent journal called " The Irishman." When the Catholic Associa
tion was founded, John Lawless became an early and eager member. In 1825,
he opposed O'Connell on '* The Wings.'' O'Connell's chief notice (though
the opposition annoyed him) was a complaint of " the under-growl of Jack
Lawless.'' After this, they soon were reconciled — a hollow tnice, for, in 1832,
when Lawless was defeated in a contest for the Parliamentary representation
of Meath County, he was charged by O'Connell with having, " for a con-si-de-
ra-ti-on" (as old Trapbois says), sold his chances of being elected. Judging
from every one of Lawless's poliliral and personal antecedents, this charge
was unfounded. Mr. Lawless died in August, 1837. — It may be necessaiy to
state that " The Wings" (to which Mr. Lawless and several other patriotic
Irishmen were so much opposed, as then to endanger the popularity of Mr.
O'Connell, who certainly did not resist them), were drawbacks with which
Catholic Emancipation was to have been clogged, if the Bill bi-ought in, by Sir
Francis Burdett, in 1825, had passed into a law. They were embod
ied in a separate Bill, which passed through several stages, but was necessarily
abandoned, when, mainly influenced by the Duke of York's " So help me God"
speech, the House of Lords rejected Burdctt's bill, and thus deferred Emanci
pation until 1829. By one "wing" the forty shilling freehold qualification, to
vote at Parliamentary elections, would have been abolished, and no one allowed
to vote, in counties, on less than a freehold often pounds sterling annual value.
By the other " wing," the entire Catholic clergy of Ireland, then estimated at
two thousand, w-ho were paid by tho people, were to be paid by the Govern
ment, at a cost of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling a year, out
of the public money. The matter for wonder is that any Catholic, who com
plained of being called upon to pay, in tithes, for the maintenance of clergy
men of another faith, could not have perceived the anomaly of allowing his

ME. LAWLESS. 277
qualifications as a public speaker. His voice is deep, round,
and mellow, and is diversified by a great variety of rich and
harmonious intonation. His action is exceedingly graceful and
appropriate -. he has a good figure, which, by a purposed swell
and dilation of the shoulders, and an elaborate erectness, he
turns to good account ; and by dint of an easy fluency of good
diction, a solemn visage, an aquiline nose of no vulgar dimen
sion, eyes glaring xtnderneath a shaggy brow with a certain
fierceness of emotion, a quizzing-glass, which is gracefully
dangled in any pauses of thought or suspensions of utterance,
and, above all, by a certain attitude of dignity, which he
assumes in the crisis of eloquence, accompanied with a flinging
hack of his coat, which sets his periods beautifully off, " Hon
est Jack" has become one of the most popular and efiicient
speakers at the Association.
Shortly after Mr. Lawless had been despatched, a great rein
forcement to the oratorical corps was sent down in the person
of the celebrated Father Maguire, or, as he is habitually
designated, "Father Tom." This gentleman had been for
some time a parish priest in the county of Leitrim. He lived
in a remote parish, where his talents were unappreciated.
Some accident brought Mr. Pope, the itinerant controversialist,
into contact with him. A challenge to defend the doctrines of
his religion was tendered by the wandering disputant to the
priest, and the latter at once accepted it. Maguire had given
no previous proof of his abilities, and the Catholic body re
gretted the encounter. The parties met in this strange duel
of theology. The interest created by their encounter was
prodigious. "Not only the room where their debates were
carried on was crowded, but the whole of Sackville street,
where it was situated, was thronged with population. Pope
brought to the combat great fluency, and a powerful declama
tion. Maguire was a master of scholastic logic. After several
days of controversy, Pope was overthrown, and " Father Tom,"
own clergy to be paid by taxes, levied on all other creeds. For the promised
two hundred and fifty thousand pounds was a small sum compared with the
millions wrung out of the Catholics by the Protestant hierarchy and inferior
clergy, — M.

278 CLARE ELKCTION.
as the champion of orthodoxy, became the object of popular
adoration, A base coiispiracy "was got up to destroy his moral
character, and by its faiUire raised him in the affection of the
multitude. He had been under great obligations to Mr. O'Con
nell, for his exertions upon his trial ; and from a just sentiment
of gratitude, he tendered his services in Clare. His name
alone was of great value ; and when his coming was an
nounced, the people everywhere rushed forward to hail the
great vindicator of the national religion.* He threw fresh
ingredients into the caldron, and contributed to impart to the
contest that strong religious character which it is not the fault
of the Association, but of the Government, that every contest
of the kind must assume.
* The Reverend Thomas Maguire was an Irish Catholic priest, a dialectician
of great power and ingenuity, who, shortly before the election-struggle in Clare,
had greatly distinguished himself, in a public and prolonged discussion with
the Reverend Mr. Pope, a Protestant clergyman. Mr. Maguire, who accepted
his challenge, was scarcely known even among his own persuasion, and many
apprehended defeat, not from any weakness of his cause, but from a belief that
its champion, unknown and untried, was unequally opposed to a practised
polemic. The discussion, which took place in Dublin, excited much interest
in the religious world. Each controversialist had to defend three articles of
his own and to assail as many of his adversaiy's faith. To the surprise of all,
Mr. Maguire proved equal, at least, to his more practised opponent. As usual,
both parties claimed the honor of the victory — at all events, Mr. Maguire waa
admitted to have most distinguished himself. Jt is pleasant to add, that a warm
and mutual regard between Mr. Maguire and Mr. Pope sprang out of this con
troversy. The Orange party in Ireland, shortly after this discussion, did not
discourage, if they did not assist, u. conspiracy which was got up to destroy
Mr. Maguire's private and clerical character. An action at law was brought
by a person named M'Gerratty, to recover damages for the seduction of his
daughter Ann, by the Reverend Thomas Maguire. The young woman was
examined on the trial, and swore, among other things, that Mr. Maguire had
seduced her under a promise of marriage, to be fulfilled on his becoming a Prot
estant clergyman ! The jury, coupling this improbability with serious discrep
ancies in her evidence as to the subject-matter of the suit, with her demeanor
in the witness-box, and with strong testimony of her previous bad character,
acquitted Mr. Maguire, without hesitation. For the remaining twenty years of
his life, he was undisturbed by slander. He was a popular preacher, and was
often called upon to plead in aid of the sacred cause of charity. He died
suddenly, and it was suspected that he was poisoned by two of his own servants,
who desired to appropriate to themselves whatever portable property he was
possessed of. — M.

FATHEE TOM MAGUIEB. 279
"Father Tom" was employed upon a remarkable exploit.
Mr. Augustine Butler, the lineal descendant of the famous Sir
Toby Butler, is a proprietor in Clare : he is a liberal Protest
ant, but supported Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald. "Father Tom"
proceeded from the town of Ennis to the county chapel where
Mr. Butler's freeholders were assembled, in order to address
them ; and Mr. Butler, with an intrepidity which did him
credit, went forward to meet him. It was a singular encounter
in the house of God. The Protestant landlord called upon his
freeholders not to desert him. " Father Tom" rose to address
them in behalf of Mr. O'Connell. He is not greatly gifted
with a command of decorated phraseology ; but he is master
of vigorous language, and has a power of strong and simple
reasoning, which is equally intelligible to all classes. He
employs the syllogism of the schools as his chief weapon in
argument; but uses it with such dexterity, that his auditors of
the humblest class can follow him without being aware of the
technical expedient of logic by which he masters the under
standing. His manner is peculiar : it is not flowery, nor de
clamatory, but is short, somewhat abrupt, and, to use the
French phrase, is tranchant. His countenance is adapted to
his mind, and is expressive of the reasoning and controversial
faculties. A quick blue eye, a nose slightly turned up, and
formed for the tossing off of an argument, a strong brow, a
complexion of mountain ruddiness, and thick lips, which are
better formed for rude disdain than for polished sarcasm, are
his characteristics. He assailed Mr. Butler with all his powers,
and overthrew him. The topic to which he addressed himself,
was one which was not only calculated to move the tenants of
Mr. Butler, but to stir Mr. Butler himself. He appealed to the
memory of his celebrated Catholic ancestor, of which Mr.
Butler is justly proud. He stated, that what Sir Toby Butler
had been, Mr. O'Connell was ; and he abjured him not to stand
up in opposition to an individual, whom he was bound to sus
tain by a sort of hereditary obligation. His appeal carried the
freeholders awajs and one hundred and fifty votes were se
cured to Mr. O'Connell. Mr. Maguire was seconded in this
achievement by Mr. Dominick Ronayne, a barrister of the

280 CLAEE ELECTIOK.
Association, of considerable talents, and who not only speaks
the English language with eloquence, but is master of the Irish
tongue;* and, throwing an educated mind into the powerful
idiom of the country, wrought with uncommon power upon the
passions of the people.
Mr. Sheil was employed as counsel for Mr. O'Connell before
the assessor ; but proceeded to the county of Clare the day
before the election commenced. On his arrival, he understood
that an exertion was required in the parish of Corofin, which
is situate upon the estate of Sir Edward O'Brien, who had
given all his interest to Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald. Sir Edward
is the most opulent resident landlord in the countrj'.t In the
parish of Corofin he had no less than three hundred votes ; and
it was supposed that his freeholders would go with him. Mr.
Sheil determined to assail him in the citadel of his strength,
and proceeded, ujjon the Sunday before the poll commenced,
to the chapel of Corofin. Sir Edward O'Brien having learned
that this agitator intended this trespass upon his authority,
resolved to anticipate him, and set off in his splendid equipage,
drawn by four horses, to the mountains in which Corofin is
situated. The whole population came down from their resi
dences in the rocks, which are in the vicinity of the town of
* The Irish are fond of a joke, and O'Connell often indulged them. In
1843, when the Monster Meetings were proceeding, the Peel Ministry sent
short-hand writers to report the speeches of O'Connell and his co-agitators.
On one occasion, seeing " the gentlemen of the press" assembled on the plat
form, ready to record every word he uttered, O'Connell called out to know
whether they had every facility and accommodation necessary. They answered,
ti-uly, that eveiything had been done for their ease and comfort. It was in
one of the Southern counties, where the Irish language is spoken as often as the
English, and O'Connell, glancing waggishly around, commenced a speech in
Irish, to the surprise and. dismay of the " Saxon'' reporters. The multitude
instantly entered into the humor of the joke, and shouts of laughter mingled
with the usual applause. It was a great triumph thus to have baffled the Gov-
eniment through its reporters, and was one of the amusing episodes of a period
of great personal and political excitement. — M.
t Sir E. O'Brien, of Drumnland, County of Clare, was born in 1773 and
died in 1837. He was succeeded in his title hy his eldest son, now Sir Lucius
O'Brien. His second son, William Smith O'Brien, late M. P. for Ennis, is
now (January, 1854) in New South Wales, as a transport for life, unier his
conviction, on a charge of high treason, in 1848. — M.

FATHER MXrEPHT. 281
Ennis, and advanced in large bands, waving green boughs,
and preceded by fifes and pipers, upon the road. Their land
lord was met by them on his way. They passed him by in
silence, while they hailed the demagogue with shouts, and
attended him in triumph to the chapel. Sir Edward O'Brien
lost his resolution at this spectacle ; and feeling that he could
have no influence in such a state of excitation, instead of going
to the house of Catholic worship, proceeded to the church of
Corofin. He left his carriage exactly oppo.site the doors of the
chapel, which is immediately contiguous, and thus reminded
the people of his Protestantism, by a circumstance of which,
of course, advantage was instantaneously taken.
Mr. Sheil arrived with a vast multitude of attendants at the
chapel, which was crowded with people, who had flocked from
all quarters ; there a singular scene took place. Father
Murphy, the parish priest, came to the entrance of the chapel
dressed in his surplice. As he came forth, the multitude fell
back at his command-, and arranged themselves on either side,
so as to form a lane for the reception of the agitator. Deep
silence was imposed upon the people by the priest, who had a
voice like subterraneous thunder, and appeared to hold them
in absolute dominion. When Mr. Sheil had reached the thresh
old of the chapel, Father Murphy stretched forth his hand,
and welcomed him to the performance of the good work.
The figure and attitude of the priest were remai-kable. My
English reader draws his ordinary notion of a Catholic clergy
man from the caricatures which are contained in novels, or
represented in farces upon the stage ; but the Irish priest, who
has lately become a politician and a scholar, has not a touch
of foigardism about him ; and an artist would have found in
Father Murphy rather a study for the enthvtsiastic Macbriar,
who is so powerfully delineated in " Old Mortality," than a
realization of the familiar notions of a clergyman of the Church
of Rome. As he stood surrounded by a dense multitude, whom
he had hushed into profound silence, he presented a most im
posing object. His form is tall, slender, and emaciated ; but
was enveloped in his long robes, that gave him a peculiarly
sacerdotal aspect. The hand which he stretched forth was

282 CLAEE ELECTION.
ample, but worn to a skinny meagritude and pallor. His face
was long, sunken, and cadaverous, but was illuminated by
eyes blazing with all the fire of genius, the enthusiasm of reli
gion, and the devotedness of patriotism. His lank black hair
fell down his temples, and eyebrows of the same color stretched
in thick straight lines along a lofty forehead, and threw over
the whole countenance a deep shadow. The sun was shining
with brilliancy, and rendered his figure, attired as it was in
white garments, more conspicuous. The scenery about him
was in harmony; it was wild and desolate, and crags, with
scarce a blade of verdure shooting through their crevices, rose
everywhere around him. The interior of the chapel, at the
entrance of which he stood, was visible. It was a large pile
of building, consisting of bare walls, rudely thrown up, with a
floor of clay, and at the extremity stood an altar made of a few
boards clumsily put together.
It was on the threshold of this mountain-temple that the
envoy of the Association was hailed with a solemn greeting.
The priest proceeded to the altar, and commanded the people
to abstain, during the divine ceremony, from all political think
ing or occupation. He recited the mass with great fervency
and simplicity of manner, and with all the evidences of unaf
fected piety. However familiar, from dailj^ repetition, with
the ritual, he pronounced it with a just emphasis, and went
through the various forms which are incidental to it with
singular propriety and grace. The people were deeply atten
tive, and it was observable that most of them could read ; for
they had prayer-books in their hands, which they read with a
quiet devotion. Mass being finished, Father Murphy threw
his vestments off, and, without laying down the priest, assumed
the politician. He addressed the people in Irish, and called
upon them to vote for O'Connell in the name of their country
and of their religion.
It was a most extraordinary and powerful display of the
externals of eloquence ; and, as far as a person unacquainted
with the language could form an estimate of the matter by the
effects produced upon the auditory, it must have been pregnant
with genuine oratory. It will be supposed that this singular

FATHEE MUEPHT's IEISH SPEECH. 283
priest addressed his parishioners in tones and gestures as rude
as the wild dialect to which he was giving utterance. His
action and attitudes were as graceful as an accomplished actor
could use in delivering the speech of Antonj', and his intona
tions were soft, pathetic, and denunciatory, and conjuring,
accordingly as his theme varied, and as he had recourse to dif
ferent expedients to influence the people. The general char
acter of this strange harangue was impassioned and solemn;
but he occasionally had recourse to ridicule, and his counte
nance at once adapted itself with a happy readiness to derision.
The finest spirit of sarcasm gleamed over his features, and
shouts of laughter attended his description of a miserable
Catholic who should prove recreant to the great cause, by
making a sacrifice of his country to his landlord. The close
cf his speech was peculiarly efi'ective. He became inflamed
hy the power of his emotions ; and while he raised himself
into the loftiest attitude to which he could ascend, he laid one
hand on the altar, and shook the other in the spirit of almost
prophetic admonition, and as his eyes blazed and seemed to
start from his forehead, thick drops fell down his face, and his
voice rolled through lips livid with passion and covered with
foam. It is, almost unnecessary to say that such an appeal
was irresistible. The multitude burst into shouts of acclama
tion, and would have been ready to mount a battery roaring
with cannon at his command. Two days after the results
were felt at the hustings ; and Avhile Sir Edward O'Brien stood
aghast. Father Murphy marched into Ennis at the head of his
tenantry, and polled them to a man in favor of Daniel O'Con
nell. But I am anticipating.
The notion which had gone abroad in Dublin, that the
priests were lukewarm, was utterly unfounded. With the
exception of Dean O'Shaughnessy, who is a relative of Mr.
Fitzgerald (and for whom there is perhaps much excuse), and
a Father Coffey, who has since been deserted by his congrega
tion, and is paid his dues in bad halfpence, there was scarcely
a clergyman in the county who did not use his utmost influence
over the peasantry. On the day on which Mr. O'Connell
arrived, you met a priest in every street, who assured you that

284 CLAEE ELECTION.
the battle should be won, and pledged himself that " theman
of the people" should be returned. " The man of the people"
arrived in the midst of the loudest acclamations. Near thirty
thousand people were crowded into the streets of Ennis, and
were unceasing in their shouts. Banners were suspended from
every window, and women of great beauty were everywhere
seen waving handherchiefs with the figure of the patriot
stamped upon them. Processions of freeholders, with their
parish priests at their head, were marching like troops to dif
ferent quarters of the city ; and it was remarkable that not a
single individual was intoxicated. The most perfect order
and regularity prevailed ; and the large bodies of police which
had been collected in the town stood without occupation.
These were evidences of organization, from which it was easy
to form a conjecture as to the result.
The election opened, and the courthouse in which the
Sheriff read the writ presented a very new and striking
scene. On the left-hand of the Sheriff stood a Cabinet-minis
ter, attended by the whole body of the aristocracy of the
Countj^ of Clare. Their appearance indicated at once their
superior rank and their profound mortification. An expression
of bitterness and of wounded pride was stamped in various
modifications of resentment upon their countenances ; while
others, who were in the interest of Mr. Fitzgerald, and who
were the small Protestant proprietors, affected to look big and
important, and swelled themselves into gentry upon the credit
of voting for the minister. On the right-hand of the Sheriff
stood Mr. O'Connell, with scarcely a single gentleman by his
side; for most even of the Catholic proprietors had abandoned
him, and joined the ministerial candidate. But the body of
the Court presented the power of Mr. O'Connell in a mass of
determined peasants, among whom black coats aud sacerdotal
visages were seen felicitously intermixed, outside the balus
trade of the gallery on the left-hand of the Sheriff.
Before the business began, a gentleman was observed on
whom every eye was turned. He had indeed chosen a most
singular position ; for, instead of sitting like the other auditors
on the seats in the gallery, he leaped over it, and, suspending

THE HIGH-SHEEIFF. 285
himself above the crowd, afforded what was an object of won
der to the great body of the spectators, and of indignation to
the High-Sheriff. The attire of the individual who was thus
perched in this dangerous position was suflSciently strange.
He had a coat of Irish tabinet, with glossy trousers of the
same national material; he wore no waistcoat; a blue shirt,
lined with streaks of white, was open at his neck, in which the
strength of Hercules and the symmetry of Antinous were com
hined ; a broad green sash, with a medal of " the order of
Liberators" at the end of it, hung conspicuously over his
breast ; and a profusion of black curls, curiously festooned
about his temples, shadowed a very handsome and expressive
countenance, a great part of which was occupied by whiskers
of a busy amplitude. " Who, sir, are you V exclaimed the
High-Sheriff, in a tone of imperious melancholy, which he had
acquired at Canton, where he had long resided in the service
of the East India Company.
But I must pause here, and even at the hazard of breaking
the regular thread of the narration — I can not resist the
temptation of describing the High-Sheriff. When he stood up
with his wand of ofSce in his hand, the contrast between him
and the aerial gentleman whom he was addressing was to the
highest degree ludicrous. Of the latter some conception has
already been given. He looked a chivalrous dandy, who,
under the most fantastical apparel, carried the spirit and inti-e-
pidity of an exceedingly fine fellow. Mr. High-Sheriff had,
at an early period of his life, left his native county of Clare,
and had migrated to China, where, if I may judge from his
manners and demeanor, he must have been in immediate com
munication with a Mandarin of the first class, and made a
Chinese functionary his favorite model. I should conjecture
that he must long have presided over the packing of Bohea,
and that some tincture of that agreeable vegetable had been
. infused into his complexion. An oriental sedateness and
gravity are spread over a countenance upon which a smile
seldom presumes to trespass. He gives utterance to intona
tions which were originally contracted in the East, but have
been since melodized by his religious habits into a puritanical

286 CLAEE ELECTION.
chant in Ireland. The Chinese language is monosyllabic, and
Mr. Molony has extended its character to the English tongue;
for he breaks all his words into separate and elaborate divisions,
to each of which he bestows a due quantity of deliberate into
nation. Upon arriving in Ireland, he addicted himself to
godliness, having previously made great gains in China, and
he has so contrived as to impart the cadences of Wesley to the
pronunciation of Confucius.
Such was the aspect of the great public functionary, who,
rising with a peculiar magisteriality of altitude, and stretching
forth the emblem of his power, inquired of tho gentleman who
was suspended from the gallery who he was. "My name
is O'Gorman Mahon,'' was the reply, delivered with a firmness
which clearly showed that the person who had conveyed this
piece of intelligence thought very little of a High-Sheriff and
a great deal of O'Gorman Mahon. The SJieriflf had been
offended by the general appearance of Mr. Mahon, who had
distracted the public attention from his own contemplation;
but he was particularly irritated by observing the insurgent
symbol of " the Order of Liberators" dangling at his breast*
'* I tell that gentleman," said Mr. Molony, "to take off that
badge." There was a moment's pause, and then the following
answer was slowly and articulately pronounced : " This gen
tleman" (laying his hand on his breast) " tells that gentleman"
(pointing with the other to the Sheriff) " that if that gentleman
presumes to touch this gentleman, this gentleman will defend
himself against that gentleman, or any other gentleman, while
he has got the arm of a gentleman to protect him." This ex-
* The Order of Liberators arose out of the contested election for the county
of Waterford, in 18U6, when Mr. Villiers Stuart (subsequently raised to the
peerage) defeated Lord George Beresford, brother to the Marquis of Waterford.
The forty-shilling freeholders having thus beaten down what was called "the
Beresford tyranny," O'Connell instituted the Order of Liberators, of which he
was Grand-Master, to commemorate the patriotic deed. Whoever, being of
good character, had rendered a service to Ireland, was entitled to wear the
medal, attached to a broad green riband. After Clare Election, it was resolved,
at a Chapter of the Order, over which Mr. Lawless presided, that four thou-
Band medals should be struck, for the pm'pose of distribution among the liberal
electors of Clare. — M.

SMITH o'beien. 287
traordinary sentence was followed by a loud burst of applause
from all parts of the courthouse. The High-Sheriff looked
aghast. The expression of self-satisfaction and magisterial
complacency passed off of his visage, and he looked utterly
blank and dejected. After an interval of irresolution, down
he sat. " The soul" of O'Gorman Mahon (to use Curran's ex
pression) " walked forth iu its own majesty ;" he looked " re
deemed, regenerated, and disenthralled." The medal of " the
Order of Liberators" was pressed to his heart. O'Connell sur
veyed him with gratitude and admiration ; and the first blow
was struck, which sent dismay iuto the heart of the party of
which the Sheriff was considered to be an adherent.
This was the opening incident of this novel drama. When
the sensation which it had created had in some degree sub
sided, the business of the day went on. Sir Edward O'Brien
proposed Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald as a proper person to serve in
Parliament. Sir Edward had upon a former occasion been the
vehement antagonist of Mr. Fitzgerald, and in one instance a
regular battle had been fought between the tenantry of both
parties. It was supposed that this feud had loft some acrimo
nious feelings which were not quite extinct behind, and many
conjectured that the zeal of Sir Edward in favor of his competi
tor was a little feigned. This notion was confirmed by the
circumstance that Sir Edward O'Brien's son (the member for
Ennis) had subscribed to the Catholic rent, was a member of
the Association, and had recently made a vigorous speech in
Parliament in defence of that body.* It is, however, probable
* William Smith O'Brien, of Cahei-moyle, Clare county, second son of the
late Sir Edward O'Brien, was bom on October 17, 1803. He entered Parlia
ment early, and soon attached himself to the popular cause. His ablest speech
in Parliament was when moving for an inquiry into the state of Ireland. It
was a clear and forcible statement of Irish grievances, and caused a prolonged
and exciting discussion. The Repeal agitation of 1843-'4 made him a con
vert, and he took his seat in Conciliation Hull amid much applause, as his
adhesion, delayed till then, was evidently caused by conviction. While O'Con
nell was in duresse, under illegal verdict and judgment, in 1844 his place in
Conciliation Hall was supplied by Smith O'Brien, who announced that, having
abandoned all hope of "justice to Ireland" from the British Parliament, he
withdrew from regular attendance in the House of Commons, and would now

288 CLAEE ELECTION.
that the feudal pride of Sir Edward O'Brien, which was deeply
mortified by the defection of his vassals, absorbed, every other
feeling, and that, however indifferent he might have been on
Mr. Fitzgerald's account, yet that he was exceedingly irritated
upon his own. He appeared at least to be profoundly moved,
aud had not spoken above a few minutes when tears fell from
his eyes. He has a strong Irish character impressed upon him.
It is said that he is lineally descended from the Irish emperor,
Brian-Borue ; and indeed he has some resemblance to the sign
post at a tavern near Clontarf, in which the image of that cel
ebrated monarch is represented. He is squat, bluff, and impas
sioned. An expression of good-nature, rather than of good-
humor, is mixed up with a certain rough consciousness of his
own dignity, which in his most familiar moments he never
lays aside, for the Milesian predominates in his demeanor, and
his royal recollections wait perpetually upon him. He is a
great favorite with the people, who are attached to the descend
ants of the ancient indigenous families of the county, and who
see in Sir Edward O'Brien a good landlord, as well as the rep
resentative of Brian Borne.
I was not a little astonished at seeing him weep upon the
hustings. It was, however, observed to me that he is given to
the " melting mood," although his tears do not fall like the
gum of " the Arabian tree." In the House of Commons he
once produced a great effect, by bursting into tears, while he
described the misery of the people of Clare, although, at the
apply his energies to the attainment of a domestic legislature for Ireland. In
1846, still declining to attend, he refused to serve on a railway committee, and
was committed to confinement by the House of Commons for " contempt."
After a time he was liberated, but without any concession on his part. In
1848, having ardently adopted "physical force" principles, he unsuccessfully
attempted to liberate Ireland from legislative connection with Great Britain ;
was appieheuded, committed, and tried for high-treason ; convicted, sentenced
to death (for which transportation for life was substituted), and hurriedly de
ported to Van Dieman's Land, the very worst of the penal settlements, and
commonly called " Hell-upon-earth," and is now (January, 1854) a " convict"
there. Marked ability and the purest motives have always distinguished this
man, who loved Ireland "not wisely" (vmder acts of Parliament), "but too
well." — M.

TESET FITZGEEALD. 289
same time, his granaries were full. It was said that his hust
ings pathos was of the same quality, and arose from the pecu
liar susceptibility of the lacrymatory nerves, and not from any
very nice fibres about the heart : still I am convinced that his
emotion was genuine, and that he was profoundly touched.
He complained that he had been deserted by his tenants, al
though he had deserved well at their hands ; and exclaimed that
the country was not one fit for a gentleman to reside in, when
property lost all its influence, and things were brought to such
a pass. The motion was seconded by Sir A. Fitzgerald in a
few words.* Mr. Gore, a gentleman of very large estate, took
occasion to deliver his opinions in favor of Mr. Fitzgerald ; and
Mr. O'Gorman Mahon and Mr. Steele proposed Mr. O'Connell.
It then fell to the rival candidates to speak; and Mr. Vesey
Fitzgerald, having been first put in nomination, first addressed
the freeholders. He seemed to me to be about five-and-forty
years of age, his hair being slightly marked with a little edg
ing of scarcely-perceptible silver, but the care with which it
was distributed and arranged showed that the Cabinet Minis
ter had not yet entirely dismissed his Lothario recollections. I
had heard, before I had even seen Mr. Fitzgerald, that he was
in great favor with the Calistas at Almack's; and' I was not
surprised' at it, on a minute inspection of his aspect and deport
ment. It is not that ho is a handsome man (though he is far
from being the reverse), but that there is an air of blended
sweetness and assurance, of easy intrepidity and gentle grace
fulness about him, which are considered to be eminently win
ning. His countenance, though too fully circular, and a little
tinctured with vermilion, is agreeable. The eyes are of bright
hazel, and have an expression of ever-earnest frankness, which
an acute observer might suspect, while his mouth is full of a
strenuous solicitude to please. The moment he rose, I per
ceived thajt he was an accomplished gentleman ; and, when I
had heard him utter a few sentences, I was satisfied that he
was a most accomplished speaker.
* Sir Augustus Fitzgerald, of Newmarket-on-Fergus, county of Clare, a
Lieutenant-General in the army, was created Baronet in 1821, and died in
1834. — M.
Vol. IL— 13

290 CLAEE ELECTION.
He delivered one of the most effective and dexterous speeches
which it has ever been my good fortune to hear. There were
evident marks of deep pain and of fear to be traced in his fea
tures, which were not free from the haggardness of many an
anxious vigil ; but though he was manifestly mortified in the
extreme, he studiously refrained from all exasperating senti
ment or expression. He spoke at first with a graceful melan
choly, rather than a tone of impassioned adjuration. He inti
mated that it was rather a measure of rigorous, if not unjustifi
able policy, to display the power of the Association in throwing
an individual out of Parliament whp had been the warm and
uniform advocate of the Catholic cause during his whole politi
cal life. He enumerated the instances in which he had ex
erted himself in behalf of that body which were now dealing
with him with such severity, and referred to his services with
regard to the College of Maynooth.
The part of his speech which was most powerful related to
his father. The latter had opposed the Union, and had many
claims upon the national gratitude. The topic was one which
required to be most delicately touched, and no orator could
treat it with a more exquisite nicety than Mr. Fitzgerald. He
became, as he advanced, and the recollection of his father
pressed itself more immediately upon his mind, more impas
sioned. At the moment he was speaking, his father, to whom
he is most tenderly attached, and by whom he is most beloved,
was lying upon a bed whence it was believed that he would
never rise ; and efforts had been made to conceal from the old
man the contest in which his son was involved.* It is impos
sible to mistake genuine grief; and when Mr. Fitzgerald paused
for an instant, and, turning away, M'iped off the tears that came
streaming from his eyes, he won the sympathies of every one
about him. There were few who did not give the same evi
dence of emotion; and when he sat down, although the great
majority of the audience were strongly opposed to him, and
were enthusiasts in favor of the rival candidate, a loud and
unanimous burst of acclamation shook the courthouse.
* The Right Honorable .Tames Fitzgerald, who sacrificed place and its emol-
umenta for his country, diied in 1835, ii-ed ninety-three. — M.

291
Mr. O'Connell rose to address the people in reply.* It was
manifest that he considered a great exertion to be requisite in
order to do away the impression which his antagonist had
produced. It was clear that he was collecting all his might,
to those who were acquainted with the workings of his physi
ognomy. Mr. O'Connell bore Mr. Fitzgerald no sort of per
sonal aversion, but he determined, in this exigency, to have
little mercy on his feelings, and to employ all the power of
vituperation of which he was possessed, against him. This
was absolutely necessary ; for if mere dexterous fencing had
heen resorted to by Mr. O'Connell, many might have gone
away with, the opinion that, after all, Mr. Fitzgerald had been
thanklessly treated by the Catholic body. It was therefore
disagreeably requisite to render him, for the moment, odious.
Mr. O'Connell began by awakening the passions of the multi
tude in an attack on Mr. Fitzgerald's allies. Mr. Gore had
lauded him highly. This Mr. Gore is of Cromwellian descent,
and the people detest the memory of the Protector to this day.
There is a tradition (I know not whether it has the least
foundation) that the ancestor of this gentleman's family was a
nailer by trade in the Puritan army. Mr. O'Connell, without
any direct reference to the fact, used a set of metaphors, such
as "striking the nail on the head" — "putting a nail into a
coflSn," which at once recalled the associations which were
attached to the name of Mr. Gore ; and roars of laughter as
sailed that gentleman on every side. Mr. Gore has the char
acter of being not only very opulent, but of bearing a re-
* O'Connell's personal appearance was gi'eatly in his favor. He had that
massiveness of mould which the populace like to witness in one who aspires to
lead them. He had what singers call a chest-voice; deep, clear, musical, and
audible even in a whisper. At the Clare Election, in 1828, he was in his fifty-
third year. Prince Puckler Muscau, who visited Ireland about this time, thus
described the Man of the People, in his Tour of a German Prince : " Daniel
O'Connell, is indeed, no common man, though the man of the commonalty.
His exterior is attractive, and the expression of intelligent good nature, united
with determination and prudence, which marks his countenance, is extremely
winning. It is impossible not to follow his powerful arguments with interest:
and such is the martial dignity of his carriage, that he looks more like a gen
era] of Napoleon's than a Dublin advocate." — M.

292 CLAEE ELECTION.
gard to his possessions proportioned to their extent. Nothing
is so unpopular as prudence in Ireland; and Mr. O'Connell
rallied Mr. Gore to such a point upon this head, and that of
his supposed origin, that the latter completely sunk under the
attack. He next proceeded to Mr. Fitzgerald, and, having
drawn a picture of the late Mr. Perceval, he turned round and
asked of the rival candidate, with what face he could call
himself their friend, when the first act of his political life was
to enlist himself under the banners of " the bloody Perceval."
This epithet (whether it be well or ill deserved is not the ques
tion) was sent into tho hearts of the people with a force of
expression, and a furious vehemence of voice, that created a
great sensation among the crowd, and turned the tide against
Mr. Fitzgerald. "This too," said Mr. O'Connell, "is the
friend of Peel — the bloody Perceval, and the candid and
manly Mr. Peel — and he is our friend ! and he is everybody's
friend ! The friend of the Catholic was the friend of the
bloody Perceval, and is the friend of the candid and manly
Mr. Peel!"
It is unnecessary to go through Mr. O'Connell's speech. It
was stamped with all his powerful characteristics,* and galled
Mr. Fitzgerald to the core. That gentleman frequently mut
tered an interrogatory, "Is this fair?" when Mr. O'Connell
was using some legitimate sophistication against him. He
seemed particularly offended when his adversary said, "I
never shed tears in public," which was intended as a mockery
of Mr. Fitzgerald's references to his father. It will be thought
by some sensitive persons that Mr. O'Connell was not quite
warranted in this harsh dealing, but he had no alternative.
Mr. Fitzgerald had made a very powerful speech, and the
effect was to be got i-id of. In such a warfare a man must not
* When O'Connell said that he " was the best-abused man in the world,"
he might have added that he was the best-abusing. However, he had ample
precedents, one of which now occurs to me. Sir Aixhibald Macdonald (who
was Chief-Baron of the English Court of Exchequer, from 1793 to 1813) once
told Sir Fletcher Norton, afterward Speaker of the House of Commons, that lie
was " a lazy, indolent, evasive, shuffling, plausible, artful, mean, confideat,
cowardly, poor, pitiflil. sneaking, and abject creature." Tliis was in Parlia
ment, where tho decencies of speech are supposed to be observed I — M.

SWEARING TO GAIN TIMH. 293
pause in the selection of his weapons, and Mr. O'Connell is
not the man to hesitate in the use of the rhetorical sabre.
Nothing of any peculiar interest occurred after Mr. O'Con
nell's speech upon the first day. On the second the polling
commenced ; and on that day, in consequence of an expedient
adopted by Mr. Fitzgerald's committee, the parties were nearly
equal. A Catholic freeholder can not, in strictness, vote at an
election without making a certain declaration, upon oath, re
specting his religious opinions, and obtaining a certificate of
his having done so from a magistrate. It is usual for candi
dates to agree to dispense with the necessity of taking this
oath. It was, however, of importance to Mr. Fitzgerald to
delay the election; and with that view his committee required
that the declaration should be taken.* Mi"- O'Connell's com
mittee were unprepared for this form, and it was with the
utmost difficulty that magistrates could be procured to attend
to receive the oath. It was, therefore, impossible, on the first
day, for Mr. O'Connell to bring his forces in the field, and thus
the parties appeared nearly equal. To those who did not
know the real cause of this circumstance, it appeared ominous,
and the O'Counellites looked sufficiently blank ; but the next
day everything was remedied. The freeholders were sworn
en masse. They were brought into a yard enclosed within four
walls. Twenty-five were placed against each wall, and they
simultaneously repeated the oath. When one batch of swear
ers had been disposed of, the person who administered the
declaration, turned to the adjoining division, and despatched
them. Thus he went through the quadrangle, and in the
course of a few minutes was able to discharge one hundred
patriots upon Mr. Fitzgerald.
It may be said that an oath ought to be more solemnly
administered. In reply it is only necessary to observe, that
* Formerly, a County Election might occupy 15 days, in the mere polling of
tile voters. The Reform Bill has changed that, and County Elections can not
now last more than two days (if there be a contest), exclusive of the day on
which the candidates are publicly nominated, and that on which the Returning
officer declares the result of the electoral strife. If there be no opposition to
the candidate, the nomination, candidate's address, and declaration of the elec
tion, need not occupy an hour. Ihaveseen it hurried through in less time. — M.

294 CLAEE ELECTION.
the declaration in question related principally to " the Pre
tender," and when " the legislature persevere in compelling
the name of God to be thus taken in vain," the ritual becomes
appropriately farcical, and the manner of the thing is only
adapted to the ludicrous matter ujion which it is legally
requisite that Heaven should be attested ! The oath which is
imposed upon a Roman Catholic is a violation of the first pre
cept of the decalogue ! This species of machinery having
been thus applied to the art of swearing, the effects upon the
poll soon became manifest, and Mr. O'Connell ascended to a
triumphant majority. It became clear that the landlords had
lost all their power, and that their struggles were utterly
hopeless. Still they persevered in dragging the few serfs
whom they had under their control to the hustings, and in
protracting the election. It was Mr. Fitzgerald's own wish,
I believe, to abandon the contest, when its ultimate issue was
already certain; but his friends insisted that the last man
whom they could command should be polled out. Thus the
election was procrastinated.
In ordinary cases, the interval between the first and the last
day of polling is monotonous and dull; but during the Clare
election so many ludicrous and extraordinary incidents were
every moment occurring, as to relieve any attentive observer
from every influence of ennui. The writer of this article was
under the necessity of remaining during the day in the SherifPs
booth, where questions of law were chiefly discussed, hut even
here there was much matter for entertainment. The sheriff
afforded a perpetual fund of amusement. He sat with his
wand of ofSce leaning against his shoulder, and always ready
for his grasp. When there was no actual business going for
ward, he still preserved a magisterial dignity of deportment,
and with half-closed eyelids, and throwing back his head, and
forming with his chin an obtuse angle with the horizon, re
proved any indulgence in illicit mirth which might chance to
pass among the bar. The gentleman who were professionally
engaged having discovered the chief foible of the Sheriff,
which consisted in the most fantastical notions of himself, vied
with each other in playing upon this weakness. " I feel that

THE FIEST MAN IN TIIE COUNTY. 295
I address myself to the first man of the county," was the usual
exordium with which legal argument was opened.* The
Sheriff, instead of perceiving the sneer which involuntarily
played round the lips of the mocking s}'Cophant, smiled with
an air of Malvolio condescension, and bowed his head. Then
came some noise from the adjoining booths, upon which the
Sheriff used to start up and exclaim, " I declare I do not think
that I am treated with proper respect — verilj', I'll go forth
and quell this tumult — I'll show them I am the first man in
the county, and I'll commit somebody." With that " the first
man in the county," with a step slightly accelerated by his
resentment at a supposed indignity to himself, used to proceed
in quest of a riot, but generally returned with a good-humored
* The Sheriff's powers exceeded those of the Magistracy. In those days, nearly
every out-at-elbows Protestant, who, like .Justice Shallow, could write himself
"in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, armigero," was made a magis
trate, provided he had the requisite amount of Ascendency intolerance. The
vademecum of such justices, under which they dispensed law indifferently {very
indifferently, indeed), was MacNally's " Justice of the Peace in Ii'eland,"
which, with adaptations to the present state of the law, is yet in vogue and has
long been to magistrates in Ireland, what " Burn's Justice" is to those of Eng
land. As originally published, it was full of errors, and those who acted on it,
eften found themselves drawn into lawsuits, as defendants. " What could make
you act so?" MacNally would ask. " Faith, sir, I acted on the advice of your
own book !" Not much taken aback, for such scenes were frequent, MacNally
would say, "As a human work, the book has errors, no doubt — but I shall cor
rect them all when it comes to a second edition!" — Leonard MacNally was
veiy short and nearly as broad as long : his legs were of unequal length, and
he had a face which no washing could clean, and he wanted one thumb. He
had good eyes and an expressive countenance. He was lame, also, which
made Curran say, when he eijtered the lawyer's corps, in 1798, that he ro,n a
chance of being shot for disobedience of orders, for that when the adjutant
would cry "march," MacNally would certainly "halt!" When he walked
rapidly, he would take two thumping steps with the short leg, to bi-ing up the
space made by the long one, and from this the bar nicknamed him " One pound
two." He was expelled by the bar-mess, on account of the dirtiness of his
person. Once when he went to France for a month, CuiTan said, " He has
taken a shirt and a guinea, and he'll change neither until he comes back.'' The
well-known song, " The lass of Richmond Hill" was written by MacNally upon
his sweetheart, a Miss Janson, who sympathized with him in sci-ibbling verseg
and not washing her hands. They were married, lived happily, and,'to the last,
weie economic in the use of soap! — M.

296 CLAEE ELECTION.
expression of face, observing : " It was only Mr. O'Connell,
and I must say when I remonstrated with him, he paid me
every sort of proper respect. He is quite a different person
from what I had heard. But let nobody imagine that I was
afraid of him. I'd commit him, or Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald, if I
was not treated with proper respect ; for by virtue of my oifice
I am the first man in the county." This phrase of the Sheriff
became so familiar, that a set of wags, who in the intervals of ¦
leisure, had set about practising mimicry, emulated each other
in repeating it, and succeeded in producing various pleasant
imitations of the " first man in the county."
A young gentleman (Mr. Nicholas Whyte) turned this talent
to a very pleasant and useful account. He acted as agent to
Mr. O'Connell, in a booth of which the chief officer, or Sheriff's
Deputy, as he is called, was believed to be a partisan of Mr.
Fitzgerald, and used to delay Mr. O'Connell's tallies. A tu
mult would then ensue, and the deputy would raise his voice
in a menacing tone against the friends of Mr. O'Connell. The
High-Sheriff himself had been accustomed to go to the entrance
of the different booths and to command silence with his long-
drawn and dismal ejaculations. When the deputy was bearing
it with a high hand, Mr. Whyte would sometimes leave the
booth, and standing at the outward edge of the crowd, just at
the moment that the deputy was about to commit some parti
san of Mr. O'Connell, the mimic would exclaim, in a death-hell
voice, " Silence, Mr. Deputy, you are exceedingly disorderly
— silence !" The deputy being enveloped by the multitude,
could not see the individual who thus addressed him, and be
lieving it to be the Sheriff, sat down confounded at the admo
nition, while Mr. O'Connell's tally went rapidly on, and the
disputed vote was allowed.
These vagaries enlivened occupations which in their nature
v/ere sutficiently dull. But the Sheriff's booth afforded matter
more deserving of note than his singularities. Charges of un
due influence were occasionally brought forward, which exhib
ited the character of the election iu its strongest colors.
One incident I particularly remember. An attorney em
ployed by Mr. Fitzgerald rushed in aud exclaimed that a priest

• FATHEE MUEPHY OF COEOFIN. 29T
was terrifying the voters. This accusation produced a power
ful effect. The counsel for Mr. O'Connell defied the attorney
to make out his charge. The assessor very properly required
that the priest should attend ; and behold Father Murphy of
Corofin ! His solemn and spectral aspect struck everybody.
He advanced with fearlessness to the bar, behind which the
Sheriff was seated, and inquired what the charge was which
had been preferred against him, with a smile of ghastly deris
ion. " You were looking at my voters," cries the attorney.
"But I said nothing," replied the priest, "and I suppose that
I am to be permitted to look at my parishioners." — " Not with
such a face as that !" cried Mr. Dogherty, one of Mr. Fitzger
ald's counsel. This produced a loud laugh; for, certainly, the
countenance of Father Murphy was fraught with no ordinary
terrors. "And this, then," exclaimed Mr. O'Connell's counsel,
"is the charge you bring against the priests! Let us see if
there be an act of Parliament which prescribes that a Jesuit
shall wear a mask." At this instant, one of the agents of Mi\
O'Connell precipitated himself into the room, and cried out,
"Mr. Sheriff, we have no fair play — Mr. Singleton is frighten
ing his tenants — he caught hold of one of them just now, and
threatened vengeance against him." This accusation came
admirably apropos. "What!" exclaimed the advocate of Mr.
O'Connell, " is this to be endured ? Do we live in a free coun
try, and under a constitution ? Is a landlord to commit a bat
tery with impunity, and is a priest to be indicted for his phj'si-
ognomy, and to be found guilty of a look?" Thus a valuable
set-off against Father Murphy's eyebrows was obtained. After
a long debate, the assessor decided that, if either a priest or a
landlord actually interrupted the poll, they should be indis
criminately committed ; but thought the present a case only
for admonition. Father Murphy was accordingly restored to
his physiognomical functions.
The matter had been scarcely disposed of, when a loud shout
was heard from, the multitude outside the courthouse, which
had gathered in thousands, and yet generally preserved a pro
found tranquillity. The large window in the Sheriff's booth
gave an opportunity of observing whatever took place in the
13*

298 CLAEE ELECTION.
square below ; and, attracted by the tremendous uproar, every
body ran to see what was going on among the crowd. The
tumult was produced by the arrival of some hundred freehold
ers from Kilrush, with their landlord, Mr. Vandeleur, at their
head.. He stood behind a carriage, and, with his hat off, was
seen vehemently addressing the tenants who followed him.
It was impossible to hear a word which he uttered, but his
gesture was sufficiently significant: he stamped, and waved
his hat, and shook his clinched hand. While he thus adjured
them, the crowd through which they were passing assailed
them with cries : " Vote for your country, boys ! vote for the
old religion ! — Three cheers for liberty ! — Down with Vesey,
and hurra for O'Connell !" These were the exclamations which
rent the air as they proceeded. They followed their landlord
until they had reached, a part of the square where Mr. O'Con
nell lodged, and before which a large platform had been erect
ed, which communicated with the window of his apartment,
and to which he could advance whenever it was necessary to
address the people. When Mr. Vandeleur's freeholders had
attained this spot, Mr. O'Connell rushed forward on the plat
form, and lifted up his arm. A tremendous shout succeeded,
and in an instant Mr. Vandeleur was deserted by his tenants.
This platform exhibited some of the most remarkable scenes
which were enacted in this strange drama of " The Clare Elec
tion." It was sustained by pillars of wood, and stretched out
several feet from the wall to which it was attached. Some
twenty or thirty persons could stand upon it at the same time.
A large quantity of green boughs were turned about it, and,
from the sort of bower which tiiey formed, occasional orators
addressed the people during the day. ' Mr. M'Dermot,-a young
gentleman from the countj' of Galway, of considerable fortune,
and a great deal of talent as a speaker, used to harangue the
multitude with great effect. Father Sheehan, a clergyman
from Waterford, who had been maiiilj' instrumental in the
overthrow of the Beresfords, also displayed from this spot his
eminent popular abilities. A Dr. Kenny, a Waterford surgeon,
thinking that " the times were out of joint," came " to set them
right." Father Maguire, Mr. Lawless, indeed the whole com-

A SOLEMN SCENE. 299
pany of orators, performed on this theatre with indefatigable
energy. Mirth and declamation, and anecdote and grotesque deline
ation, and mimicry, were all blended together for the public
entertainment. One of the most amusing and attractive topics
was drawn from the adherence of Father Coffey to Mr. Fitz
gerald. His manners, his habits, his dress, were all selected
as materials for ridicule and invective ; and puns, not the less
effective because they were obvious, were heaped upon his
name. The scorn and detestation with which he was treated
by the mob clearly proved that a priest has no influence over
them when he attempts to run counter to their political pas
sions. He can hurry them on in the career into which their
own feelings impel them, but he can not turn them into another
course. Many incidents occurred about this rostrum, which,
if matter did not crowd too fast upon me, I should stop to
detail. I have not room for a minute narration of all that
was interesting at this election, which would occupy a vol
ume, and must limit myself to one, but that a very striking
cu'cumstance. The generality of the orators were heard with loud and
clamorous approbation ; but, at a late hour one evening, and
when it was growing rapidly dark, a priest came forward on
the platform, who addressed the multitude in Irish. There
was not a word uttered by the people. Ten thousand peasants
were assembled before the speaker, and a profound stillness
hung over the living but almost breathless mass. For minutes
they continued thus deeply attentive, and seemed to be struck
with awe as he proceeded. Suddenly I saw the whole multi
tude kneel down, in one concurrent genuflection. They were
engaged in silent prayer, and when the priest arose (for he too
had knelt down on the platform), they also stood up together
from their orison. The movement was performed with the
facility of a regimental evolution. I asked (being unacquainted
with the language) what it was that had occasioned this ex
traordinary spectacle ; and was informed that the orator had
stated to the people that one of his own parishioners, who had
voted for Mr. Fitzgerald, had just died ; and he called upon

300 CLAEE ELECTION.
the multitude to pray to God for the repose of his soul,.and the
forgiveness of the offence which he had committed in taking
the bribery oath. Money, it seems, had been his inducement
to give his suffrage against Mr. O'Connell. Individuals, in
reading this, will exclaim, perhaps, against these expedients
for the production of effect upon the popular passions. Let me
observe in parenthesis, that the fault of all this (if it is to be
condemned) does not lie with the Association, with the priest
hood, or with the people, but with the law, which has, by its
system of anomalies and alienations, rendered the national
mind susceptible of such impressions.
Thus it was the day passed, and it was not until nearly nine
o'clock that those who were actively engaged in the election
went to dinner. There a new scene was opened. In a small
room in a mean tavern, kept by a Mrs. Carmody, the whole
body of leading patriots, counsellors, attorneys, and agents,
with divers interloping partakers of election hospitality, were
crammed and piled upon one another, while Mr. O'Connell sat
at the head of the feast, almost overcome with fatigue, but yet
sustained by that vitality which success produces. Enormous
masses of beef, pork, mutton, turkeys, tongues, and fowl, were
strewed upon the deal-boards, at which the hungry masticators
proceeded to their operations. For some time nothing was
heard but the clatter of the utensils of eating, interrupted hy
an occasional hobnobbing of " the counsellor," who, with his
usual abstinence, confined himself to watei'.
The cravings of the stomach having been satisfied, the more
intellectual season of potations succeeded. A hundred tum
blers of punch, with circular slices of lemon, diffused the essence
of John Barleycorn in profuse and fragrant steams. Loud cries
for hot water, spoons, and materials, were everywhere heard,
and huge jugs were rapidly emptied and replenished by waiters,
who would have required ubiquity to satisfy all the demands
upon their attention. Toasts were then proposed and speeches
pronounced, and the usual "hip, hip, hurra!" with unusual ac
companiments of exultation, followed. The feats of the day,
were then narrated : the blank looks of Ned Hickman, whose
face had lost all its natural hilarity, and looked at the election

A MODKEN TANTALUS. 301
like a full moon in a storm ; the shroud-colored physiognomy
of Mr. Sampson ; and the tears of Sir Edward O'Brien, were
alternately the subjects of merriment. Mr. Whyte was then
called upon for an imitation of the Sheriff, when he used to
ride upon an elephant at Calcutta. But in the midst of this
conviviality, which was heightened by the consciousness that
there was no bill to be paid by gentlemen who were the guests
of their country, and long before any inebriating effect was
observable, a solemn and spectral figure used to stride in, like
the ghost of Hamlet, and the same deep, churchyard voice
which had previously startled my ears, raised its awful peal,
while it exclaimed: "Tho wolf, the wolf is on the walk!
Shepherds of the people, what do you here? Is it meet that
you should sit carousing and in joyance, while the freeholders
remain unprovided, and temptation, in the shape of famine, is
among them? Arise, I say, arise from 3'our cups — the wolf,
the wolf is on the walk !"
Such was the disturbing and heart-appalling adjuration of
Father Murphy of Corofin, whose enthusiastic sense of duty
never deserted him, and who, when the feast was unfinished,
entered like the figure of Death which the Egyptians employed
at their banquets. He walked round the room with a meas
ured pace, like the envoy of another world, chasing the revel
lers before him, and repeating the same dismal warning —
"The wolf, the wolf is on the walk!" Nothing was com
parable to the aspect of Father Murphy upon these occasions,
except the physiognomy of Mr. Lawless.
This gentleman, who had been usefully exerting himself
during the whole day, somewhat reasonably expected that he
should be permitted to enjoy the just rewards of patriotism for
a few hours without any nocturnal molestation. It was about
the time that he had just commenced his second tumbler, and
when the exhilarating influence of his eloquent chalices was
beginning to display itself, that the dismal cry was wont to
come upon him. The look of piteous despair with which he
surveyed this unrelenting foe to conviviality, was almost as
ghastly at that of his merciless disturber ; and as, like another
Tantalus, he saw the draughts of pleasantness hurled away, a

302 CLARE ELECTION.
schoolmaster, who sat by him, and who " was abroad" during
the election, used to exclaim : —
 " A labris feitiens fugientia captat
Flumina." 
It was in vain to remonstrate against Father Murphy, who
insisted that the whole company should go forth to meet "the
wolf upon the walk."
Upon going down stairs, the lower apartments were found
thronged with freeholders and priests. To the latter had been
assigned the office of providing food for such of the peasants
as lived at too great a distance from the town to return imme
diately home; and each clergyman was empowered to give
an order to the victuallers and tavern-keepers to furnish the
bearer with a certain quantity of meat and beer. The use of
whiskey was forbidden.
There were two remarkable features observable in the dis
charge of this office. The peasant, who had not tasted food
perhaps for twenty-four hours, remained in perfect patience
and tranquillity until his turn arrived to speak " to his rever
ence ;" and the Catholic clergy continued with unwearied
assiduity and the most amiable solicitude, though themselves
quite exhausted with fatigue, in the performance of this neces
sary labor. There they stayed until a late hour in the morn
ing, and until every claimant had been contented. It is not
wonderful that such men, animated by such zeal, and operating
upon so grateful and so energetic a peasantry, should have
effected what they succeeded in accomplishing.
The poll at length closed ; and, after an excellent argument
delivered by the assessor, Mr. Richard Keatinge, he instructed
the Sheriff to return Mr. O'Connell as duly elected.*
* The result of this election, was that the Duke of Wellington (who a few
months previously had declared that " he could not comprehend the possibihty
of placing Roman Catholics in a Protestant legislature with any kind of safety,
and whose personal knowledge told him, that no King, however Catholic,
could govern his Catholic subjects without the aid of the Pope") became con
vinced that the choice lay between Catholic Emancipation and Civil war. He
preferred the former, for which the repeal of the Test Act, in the previous yeai",
had prepared the English mind. On tho 5lh February, 1829, the King's speech,
at the op ming of the Session recommended the suppression of the Catholic

ITS EESTTLT?. 303
The Courthouse was again crowded, as upon the "first day,
and Mr. Fitzgerald appeared at the head of the defeated aris
tocracy. They looked profoundly melancholy. Mr. Fitzgerald
himself did not affect to diyguise the deep pain which he felt,
but preserved that gracefulness and perfect good temper which
had characterized him during the contest, and which, at its
close, disarmed hostility of all its rancor. Mr. O'Connell made
a speech distinguished by just feeling and good taste, and
Association, and the subsequent consideration of Catholic disabilities, with a
view to their adjustment and removal. At the instance of Mr. Sheil, supported
by the Catholic Bishops, the Association dissolved itself. Mr. O'Connell, who
had arrived in London, to take his seat for Clare, as a Catholic — which he
contended he could do even under the old law — did not make th5 attempt, fearful
lest it should emban"ass a Goverament determined, however tardily and by
compulsion, to do justice to Ireland. The Emancipation- Bill became the law
of the land, after much angry and personal discussion. O'Connell expected,
as did the public at large, that he might take his seat under the new law. He
presented himself at the bar of the House to be sworn, but declining to take
the old oath (which declared the Catholic faith to be idolatrous), was directed
by the Speaker to withdraw. A motion that he should take the new oaths,
which were framed for the relief of Catholics, was negatived — on the ground
that Mr. O'Connell was elected under the old system. He was then heard at
the bar of the House, where he claimed his light to sit and vote, under the Act
of Union as well as under the new Relief Bill. When the form of oath was
again handed to him, he again refused to take it, saying that it contained one
asseition which he knew to be not true, and another which he believed to be
false. It was decided that he should not sit without taking the objectionable oath
— thus making the Emancipation Act have an ex post facto operation. A new
writ was issued for Clare. O'Connell again presented himself, and was again
elected — though a certain Mr. Toby Glascock started from Dublin to oppose
him, but did not reach Ennis until the election was over. On this re-election
O'Connell took his seat, under the new act, and it was felt, even by the bulk
of their partisans, that Ministers had done wrong to him, insult to_his constitu
ents, and injury lo themselves, by refusing to extend the privileges of their own
statute to Mr. O'Connpll. It was a strange way to conciliate him, and they
soon felt his power. Such a man, then virtually representing five millions of
Irish Catholics, and endowed with rare talents, as an orator and a lawyer,
speedily found his level in Parliament — and that was with the ablest and the
most influential. Smaiting under the sense of wrong, in this instance of asking
him to swear an oath which the Legislature had just abrogated, it was only
natural, when the oppnrtunily came, that O'Connell should be found vehement
and strong against Wellington and Peel. They had sowed the wind and hn
made them reap the whirlwind. — M.

30i CLAEE ELECTION.
begged that Mr. Fitzgerald would forgive him, if he had upon
the first day given him any sort of offence. Mr. Fitzgerald
came forward and unaffectedly assured him that Avhalever was
said should be forgotten. He was again hailed with universal
acclamation, and delivered a speech which could not surpass,
in good judgment and persuasiveness, that M'ith which he had
opened the contest, but was not inferior to it. He left an
impression, which hereafter will, in all probability, render his
return for the County of Clare a matter of certainty ; and,
upon the other hand, I feel convinced that he has himself car
ried away from the scene of that contention — in which he sus
tained a defeat, but lost no honor — a conviction that not only
the interests of Ireland, but the safety of the empire, require
that the claims of seven millions of his fellow-citizens should
be conceded. Mr. Fitzgerald, during the progress of the elec
tion, could not refrain from repeatedly intimating his astonish
ment at what he saw, and from indulging in melancholy fore
bodings of the events, of which these incidents are perhaps
but the heralds. To do him justice, he appeared at moments
utterly to forget himself, and to be absorbed in the melancholy
presages which pressed themselves upon him. " Where is all
this to end 1" was a question frequently put in his presence,
and from which he seemed to shrink.
At the close of the poll, Mr. Sheil delivered a speech, in
which the views of the writer of this article were expressed;
and as no faithful account of what he said upon that occasion
appeared in the London papers, an extract from his observa
tions will be justified, not by any merit in the composition as
a piece of oratory, but by the sentiments of the speaker, which
appear to me to be just, and were suggested by the scenes in
which he had taken a part. The importance of the subject
may give a claim to attention, which in other instances the
speaker may not be entitled to command. He spoke in the
following terms : —
"I own that I am anxious to avail mj'self of this opportu
nity to make reparation to Mr. Fitzgerald. Before I had the
honor of hearing that gentleman, and of witnessing the mild
and conciliatory demeanor by which he is distinguished, I had

305
in another place expressed myself with regard to his political
conduct, in language to which I believe that Mr. Fitzgerald
referred upon the first day of the election, and which was, per
haps, too deeply tinctured with that virulence which is almost
inseparable from the passions by which this country is so
unhappily divided. It is but an act of justice to Mr. Fitzgerald
to say, that, however we may be under the necessity of op
posing him as a Member of an Administration hostile to our
body, it is impossible to entertain toward him a sentiment of
individual animosity ; and I confess that, after having observed
the admirable temper with which he encountered his antag
onists, I can not -but regret that, before I had the means of
forming a just eslimate of his personal character, I should have
indulged in remarks in which too much acidity may have
been infused.
"The situation in which Mr Fitzgerald was placed was
peculiarly trying to his feelings. He had been long in pos
session of this County. Though we considered him as an
ineflScient friend, we were not entitled to account him as an
opponent. Under these circumstances, it may have appeared
harsh, and perhaps unkind, that we should have selected him
as the first object for the manifestation of our power ; another
would have found it difficult not to give way to the language
of resentment and of reproach ; but, so far from doing so, his
defence of himself was as strongly marked by forbearance aa
it was by ability. I thought it, however, not altogether impos
sible that, before the fate of this election was decided, Mr.
Fitzgerald might have been merely practising an expedient
of wily conciliation, and that, when he appeared so meek and
self-controlled in the midst of a contest which would have pro
voked the passions of any ordinary man, he was only stifling
his resentment, in the hope that he might succeed in appeasing
the violence of the opposition with which he had to contend.
But Mr. Fitzgerald, in the demeanor which he has preserved
to-day, after the election has concluded with his defeat, has
given proof that his gentleness of deportment was not affected
and artificial ; and, now that he has no object to gain, we can
not but give him as ample credit for his sincerity, as we must

306 CLAEE ELECTION.
give him for that persuasive gracefulness by which his man
ners are distinguished. Justly has he said that he has not
lost a friend in this country; and he might have added, that,
so far from having incurred any diminution of regard among
those who were attached to him, he has appeased, to a great
extent, the vehemence of that political enmity in which the
associate of Mr. Peel was not very unnaturally held.
" But, Sir, while I have thus made the acknowledgment
which was due to Mr. Fitzgerald, let me not disguise my own
feelings of legitimate, but not, I hope, offensive exultation, at
the result of this great contest, that has attracted the attention
of the English people beyond all example. I am not mean
enough to indulge in any contumelious vaunting over one who
has .sustained his defeat with so honorable a magnanimity.
The victory which has been achieved has been obtained, not
BO much over Mr. Fitzgerald, as over the faction with which I
excuse him, to a great extent, for having been allied. A great
display of power has been made by the Catholic Association,
and that manifestation of its influence over the national mind
I regard as not only a very remarkable, but a very momentous
incident. Let us consider what has taken place, in order that
we may see this singular political phenomenon in its just light.
It is right that we attentively survey the extraordinary facts
before us, in order that we may derive from them the moral
admonitions which they are calculated to supply. What then
has happened ? Mr. Fitzgerald was promoted to a place in
the Duke of Wellington's councils, and the representation of
this great County became vacant. The Catholic Association
determined to oppose him, and at first view the undertaking
seemed to be desperate. Not a single Protestant gentleman
could be procured to enter the lists, and, in the want of any
other candidate, Mr. O'Connell stood forward on behalf of the
people. Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald came into the field encom
passed with the most signal advantages. His father is a gen
tleman of large estate, and had been long and deservedly
popular in Ireland. Mr. Fitzgerald himself, inheriting a por
tion of the popular favor with a favorite name, had for twenty
years been placed in such immediate contiguity with power,

sheil's speech. 807
that he was enabled to circulate a large portion of the influ
ence of Government through this fortunate district. There is
scarcely a single family of any significance among you which
does not labor under Mr. Fitzgerald's obligations. At this
moment it is only necessary to look at him, with the array of
aristocracy beside him, in order to perceive upon what a high
position for victory he was placed. He stands encompassed
hy the whole gentry of the County of Clare, who, as they
stood by him in the hour of battle, come here to cover his
retreat. Almost every gentleman of rank and fortune appears
as his auxiliary ; and the gentry, by their aspect at this instant,
as well as by their devotedness during the election, furnish evi
dence that in his person their own cause was to be asserted.
"To this combination of favorable circumstances — to the
promising friend, to the accomplished gentleman, to the elo
quent advocate, at the head of all the patrician opulence of
the county, what did we oppose ? We opposed the power of
the Catholic Association, and with that tremendous engine we
have beaten the Cabinet Minister, and the phalanx of aris
tocracy by which he is surrounded, to the ground. Why do I
mention these things ? Is it for the purpose (God forbid that'
it should) of wounding the feelings or exasperating the passions
of any man 1 No ! but in order to exhibit the almost marvel
lous incidents which have taken place, in the light in which
they ought to be regarded, and to present them in all their
appalling magnitude. Protestants who hear me, gentlemen
of the county Clare, you whom I address with boldness, pei'-
haps, but certainly not with any purpose to give you offence,
let me entreat your attention. A baronet of rank and fortune,
Sir Edward O'Brien, has asked whether this was a condition
of things to be endured ; he has expatiated upon the extraor
dinary influence which has been exercised in order to effect
these signal results ; and, after dwelling upon many other
grounds of complaint, he has with great force inveighed against
the severance which we have created between the landlord and
tenant. "Let it not be imagined that I mean to deny that we have
Lad recourse to the expedients attributed to us ; on the con-

308 CLAKE ELECTION.
trary, I avow it. We have put a great engine into action,
and applied the entire force of that powerful machinery which
the law has placed under our control. We are masters of the
passions of the people, and we have employed our dominion
with a terrible effect. But, sir, do you, or any man here, im
agine that we could have acquired this dreadful ability to sun
der the strongest ties by which the different classes of society
are fastened, unless we found the materials of excitement in
the state of society itself? Do you think that Mr. Daniel
O'Connell has himself, and by the single powers of his own
mind, unaided by any external co-operation, brought the coun
try to this great crisis of agitation ? Mr. O'Connell, with all his
talents for excitation, would have been utterly powerless and
incapable, unless he had been allied with a great conspirator
against the public peace ; and I will tell you who that con
federate is — it is the law of the land itself that has been Mr.
O'Connell's main associate, and that ought to be denounced
as the mighty agitator of Ireland. The rod of oppression is
the wand of this potent enchanter of the passions, and the
book of his spells is the Penal Code.* Break the wand of this
* It would swell these notes out of all proportion to attempt the biographies
of such men as the Duke of Wellington. He was in the Irish Parliament in 1790,
and voted for the extension of civil rights to the Catholics. The year after
his return from India (in 1806), he was appointed Irish Secretary (his eldest
son, the present Duke, was bom, in Dublin, in 1807), and did not resign that
office until 1809, when his active service in the Peninsula sufficiently occupied
all his attention. When the war was ended, and the great soldier had to lay
aside his sword, he adopted the Anti-Catholic views of the civilians with whom
he was associated in the Government of the countiy. The result of Clare Elec
tion in 1828, showed him that concession or civil war must ensue, and he
wisely adopted the former. Thomas Moore, -who knew that
" Peace hath her victories, no less than W^ar,"
introduced into one of his Irish Melodies, an address to Wellington, as pro
phetic as poetical : —
" And still the last crown of thy toils is remaining,
The grandest, the purest, even thou hast yet known ;
Though proud was thy task, other nations unchaining.
Far prouder to heal the deep wounds of thy own.
At the foot of that throne, for whose weal thou hast stood.
Go, plead for the land that first cradled thy fame."
Although he granted what they desired, the Irish Catholics had little regard

MR. SlIKIL S SPEECH. 309
political Prospero, and take from him the volume of his magic,
and he will evoke the spirits which are now under his control
no longer. But why should I have recourse to illustration
which may be accounted fantastical, in order to elucidate what
is in itself so plain and obvious ?
" Protestant gentlemen, who do me the honor to listen to me,
look, I pray you, a little dispassionately at the real causes of
the events which have taken place among you. I beg of you to
put aside your angry feelings for an instant, and believe me
that I am far from thinking that you have no good ground for
resentment. It must be most painful to the proprietors of this
county to be stripped in an instant of all their influence ; to
he left destitute of all sort of sway over their dependents, and
to see a few demagogues and priests usurping their natural
authority. This feeling of resentment must be aggravated by
the consciousness that they have not deserved such a return
from their tenants ; and as I know Sir Edward O'Brien to be
a truly benevolent landlord, I can well conceive that the ap
parent ingratitude with which he was treated, has added to
the pain which every landlord must experience ; and I own
that I was not surprised to see tears bursting at his eyes, while
his face was inflamed with the emotions to which it was not in
human nature that he should not give way. But let Sir Ed
ward O'Brien and his fellow-proprietors, who are gathered
about him, recollect that the facility and promptitude with
which the peasantry have thrown off their allegiance, are ow
ing not so much to any want of just moral feeling on the part
of the people, as to the operation of causes for which the peo-
for "The Duke." They had got an idea that he had denied that he was an
Irishman, and this was strengthened, in I82I, by his not accompanying George
IV. on his visit to Ireland. The Duke of Wellington died, September 14, 1852,
aged eighty-three. — It may he worth mentioning that shortly before his death,
when the comparative merits of modem generals were discussed, the Duke
said, " The greatest man of the lot, is Zachary Taylor, the American. In sight
of the Mexicans, who had a vast superiority of men and artillery, he held a
council of war, and the general opinion was that he should not risk a contest.
'Gentlemen,' said Taylor, 'I adjourn this council, until tomorrow — after the
battle.' He won the battle against immense odds, and had great courage to
run the risk, against advice. That was a true commander." — M.

310 CLAKE ELECTION.
pie are not to blame. In no other country, except in this,
would such a revolution have been effected. Wherefore? —
Because in no other coimtry are the people divided by the law
from their superiors, and cast into the hands of a set of men,
who are supplied with the means of national excitement by
the system of government under which we live.
" Surely no man can believe that such an anomalous body as
the Catholic Association could exist, excepting in a commu
nity which had been alienated from the state by the state itself.
The discontent and the resentment of seven millions of the
population have generated that domestic government, which
sways through the force of public opinion, and uses the na
tional passions as the instruments for the execution of its wilL
From that body there has now been issuing, for many years,
a continuous supplj^ of exciting matter, which has overflowed
the nation's mind. The lava has covered and inundated the
whole countiy, and is still flowing, and will continue to flow,
from its volcanic source. But, if I may so say, the Associa
tion is but the crater in which the fiery matter finds a vent,
while its fountain is in the depth of the law itself It would
be utterly impossible, if all men were placed upon an equality
of citizenship, and there was no exasperating distinctions
among us, to create any artificial causes of discontent. Let
men declaim for a century with far higher powers than any
Catholic agitator is endowed with, and if they have no real
ground of public grievance to rest upon, their harangues will
be empty sound and idle air. But when what they tell the
people is true — when they are sustained b}' substantial facts,
then effects are produced, of whicli what has taken place at
this election is only an example. The whole body of the peo
ple being previously inflamed and rendered susceptible, the
moment any incident, such as this election, occurs, all tho
popular passions start simultaneously' up, and bear down every
obstacle before them. Do not, therefore, be surprised that the
peasantry should thus at once throw off their allegi.ince to you,
when they are under tlie oper.ition of emotions which it would
be wonderful if they could resist. The feeling by which they
are now actuated, would make them not only vote against

ME. sheil's speech. 311
their landlords, but would make them rush into tlie field, scale
the batteries of a fortress, and mount the breach; and, gentle
men, give me leave now to ask you, whether, after a due re
flection upon the motives by which your vassals (for so they
are accounted) are governed, you will be disposed to exercise
any measure of severity in their regard ?
" I hear it said, that before many days go by, there will be
many tears shed , in the hovels of your slaves, and that you
will take a terrible vengeance of their treason. I trust in God
that you will not, when your own passions have subsided, and
your blood has had to cool, persevere in such a cruel, and, let
me add, such an unjustifiable determination. Consider, gen
tlemen, whether a great allowance should not be made for the
offence which they have committed. If they are, as you say
they are, under the influence of fanaticism, I would say to
you, that such an influence affords many circumstances of ex
tenuation, and that you should forgive them, 'for they know
not what they do.' They have followed their priests to the
hustings, and they would follow them to the scaffold. But
you will ask, wherefore should they prefer their priests to
their landlords, and have purer reverence for the altars of their
religion, than for the counter in which you calculate your
rents? Ah, gentlemen, consider a little tlie relation in which
the priest stands toward the peasant. Let us put the priest
into one scale, and the landlord into the other, and let us see
which should preponderate?
"I will take an excellent landlord and an excellent priest.
The landlord shall be Sir Edward O'Brien, and the priest
shall be Mr. Murphy of Corofin. Who is Sir Edward O'Brien?
A gentleman who has a great fortune, who lives in a splendid
mansion, and who, from the windows of a palace, looks upon
possessions almost as wide as those which his ancestors beheld
from the summit of their feudal towers. His tenants pay him
their rent twice a-year, and they have their land at a moder
ate rate. So much for the landlord. I now come to Father
Murphy of Corofin. Wliere does he reside? In an humble
abode, situated at the foot of a mountain, and in the midst of
dreariness and waste. He dwells in the midst of his parish-

312 CLAEE ELECTION.
ioners, and is their benefactor, their friend, their father. It is
not only in the actual ministry of the sacraments of religion
that he stands as an object of affectionate reverence among
them. I saw him, indeed, at his altar, surrounded by thou
sands, and felt myself the influence of his contagious and en
thusiastic devotion. He addressed the people in the midst
of a rude edifice, and in a language which I did not understand ;
but I could perceive what a command he has over the minds
of his devoted followers. But it is not merely as the celebra-
tor of the rites of Divine worship that he is dear to his flock;
he is their companion, the mitigator of their calamities, the
soother of their afflictions, the trustee of their hearts, the re
pository of their secrets, the guardian of their interests, and
the sentinel of their death-beds. A peasant is dying: in the
midst of the winter's night, a knock is heard at the door of the
priest, and he is told that his parishioner requires his spiritual
assistance : the wind is howling, the snow descends upon the
hills, and the rain and storm beat against his face ; yet he
goes forth, hurries to the hovel of the expiring wi-etc'h, and,
taking his station beside the mass of pestilence of which the
bed of straw is composed, bends to receive the last whisper
which unloads the heart of its guilt, though the lips of the sin
ner should be tainted with disease, and he should exhale mor
tality in his breath.
" Gentlemen, this is not the language of artificial declama
tion— this is not the mere extravagance of rhetorical phrase.
This, every word of this, is the truth — the notorious, palpable,
and unquestionable truth. You know it, every one of you
know it to be true ; and now let me ask you can you wonder
for a moment that the people should be attached to their clergy,
and should follow their ordinances as if they were the injunc
tions of God 1 Gentlemen, forgive me, if I venture to suppli
cate, on behalf of your poor tenants, for mercy to them. Par
don them, in the name of that God who will forgive you your
offences in the same measure of compassion which you will
show to the trespasses of others. Do not, in the name of that
Heaven before whom every one of us, whether landlord, priest,
or tenant, must at last appear — do not prosecute these poor

ME. SHEIL'S speech. 313
people : don't throw their children out upon the public road —
don't send them forth to starve, to shiver, and to die !
"For God's sake, Mr. Fitzgerald, and for your own sake,
and as you are a gentleman and a man of honor, interpose
your influence with your friends, and redeem your pledge. I
address myself personally to you. On the first day of the elec
tion you declared that you would deprecate all persecution by
the landlords, and that you were the last to wish that harsh
and vindictive measures should be employed. I believe you ;
and now I call upon you to redeem that pledge of mercy, to
fulfil that noble engagement, to perform that great moral prom
ise. You will cover yourself with honor by so doing, in the
same way that you will share in the ignominy that will attend
upon any expedients of rigor. Before you leave this country
to assume your high functions, employ yourself diligently in
this work of benevolence, and enjoin your friends, with that
eloquence of which you are the master, to refrain from cruelty,
and not to oppress their tenants. Tell them, sir, that instead
of busying themselves in the worthless occupation of revenge,
it is much fitter that they should take the political condition
of their country into their deep consideration. Tell them that
they should address themselves to the Legislature, and implore
a remedy for these frightful evils. Tell them to call upon the
men, in whose hands the destiny of this great empire is placed,
to adopt a system of conciliation and of peace, and to apply
to Ireland the great canon of political morality which has
been so powerfully expressed by the poet — 'Pads imponere
morem.' Our manners, our habits, our laws, must be changed.
The evil is to be plucked out at the root. The cancer must
be cut out of the breast of the country. Let it not be imagined
that any measure of disfranchisement, that any additional
penalty, will afford a remedy. Things have been permitted to
advance to a height from which they can not be driven back.
"Protestants, awake to a sense of your condition. Look
round you. What have you seen during this election ? Enough
to make you feel that this is not mere local excitation, but that
seven millions of Irish people are completely arrayed and or
ganized. That which you behold in Glare, you would behold,
Vol. IL— 14

314 CLAEE ELECTION.
under similar circumstances, in every county in the kingdom.
Did you mark our discipline, our subordination, our good order,
and that prophetic tranquillity which is far more terrible than
any ordinary storm ? You have seen sixty thousand men un
der our command, and not a hand was raised, and not a forbid-
,den word was uttered, in that amazing multitude. You have
beheld an example of our power in the almost miraculous so
briety of the people. Their lips have not touched that infu
riating beverage to which they are so much attached, and their
habitual propensity vanished at our command. What think
you of all this ? Is it meet and wise to leave us armed with
such a dominion ? Trust us not with it ; strip us of this appal
ling despotism ; annihilate us by concession ; extinguish us
with peace ; disarray us by equality ; instead of angry slaves,
make us contented citizens : if you do not, tremble for the
result!"

THE PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
Anxious to witness the great assembly of " the men of Kent,''
of which the High-Sheriff had called a meeting (having ap
pointed twelve o'clock upon Friday the 24th for the immense
gathering), I proceeded from Rochester to Maidstone at an
early hour.* Upon my way, I saw the evidences of prodigious
* The Repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts, early in 1828, with little
more than a shadow of resistance from the Wellington Ministry, was a sort of
pohtical " writing on the wall," to the Protestant Ascendency people throughout
the United Kingdom. To check any further concessions, particularly as the
Catholics had more and juster claims than the Dissenters, it was resolved to
estabhsh Brunswick Clubs, which were practically much the same, minus the
secret oaths and obligations, as the Orange Lodges, put down by a prohibitory
and penal statute in 1825. The Duke of Cumberland (brother of the reigning
sovereign) was the patron of these associations, and Lords Winchilsea, Ken
yon, and other persons of rank and property, were openly members. Glare
Election, ending July 5, 1828, on the victory of O'Connell, a Catholic, excited
the anger and apprehension of these ultra-Protestant agitators, who detennined
to hold public meetings, in defence of Protestant Ascendency in all the English
counties. The first of these came off in Kent, on the 24th of October, 1828,
on Penenden Heath, and from twenty thousand to thirty thousand persons were
present. Mr. Sheil, whose graphic description brings the scene before us, hap
pened in London when the meeting was about taking place, and several friends
of civil and religious libeity strongly pressed him to attend, as a speaker, con
fident that he might thereby advance the cause which they had at heart. He
consented, prepared a long and elaborate speech, obtained the small landed
qualification requisite to allow him to address the meeting as a freeholder, and
proceeded to Penenden Heath, where the clamor was so great that he could
utter only a few sentences, though what he intended to say was printed, and
distributed far and wide. The Penenden Heath Meeting, however, did not
encourage similar attempts elsewhere, and Protestant Ascendency made no fur
ther pubUc display until February, 1829, when CathoKc Emancipation was pro
posed as a Government measure. — The newspapers of the day amused them-

316 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
exertion to call the yeomanry together, and from the summit
of a hill that surmounts a beautiful valley near Maidstone, I
beheld a long array of wagons moving slowly toward the spot
which had been fixed by the High-Sheriff for the meeting.
The morning was peculiarly fine and bright, and had a rem
nant of " summer's lingering bloom ;" and the ej'e, through the
pure air, and from the elevated spot on which I paused to sur
vey the landscape, traversed an immense and glorious pros
pect. The fertile county of Kent, covered with all the profu
sion of English luxury, and exhibiting a noble spectacle of
agricultural opulence, was before me ; under any circumstances
the scene would have attracted my attention, but, upon the
occasion on which I now beheld it, it was accompanied by cir
cumstances which greatly added to its influence, and lent to
the beauty of nature a sort of moral picturesque. The whole
population of an immense district seemed to have swarmed
from their towns and cottages, and filled the roads and ave
nues which led to the great place of political rendezvous. In
the distance lay Penenden Heath ; and I could perceive that,
long before the hour appointed by the Sheriff for the meeting,
large' masses had assembled upon the field, where the struggle
between the two contending parties was to be carried on.
After looking upon this extraordinary spectacle, I proceeded
on my journey. I passed many of " the men of Kent," who
were going on foot to the meeting ;* but the great majority
were conveyed in those ponderous teams which are used for
the purposes of conveying agricultural produce : and, indeed,
" the men of Kent," who; were packed up in those vehicles,
seemed almost as unconscious as the ordinary burdens with
which their heavy vehicles are laden. The wagons went on
in their dull and monotonous rotation, filled with human beings,
selves with ridiculing Mr. Sheil's printed but unspoken oration ; the public,
however, penised it eagerly, and multitudes of copies were circulated all over
the Kingdom. This is included in the volume of Sheil's published speeches,
and is in every way worthy of his great reputation for political rhetoric. — M.
* There is a difference between Men of Kent and Kentish men. The former
are locally accounted superior to the latter. A Kentish man, is a native of
Kent county, bom north of the river Medway; a " Man of Kent" comes from
the district south of that river, which includes two thirds of that county. — M.

THE GATHEEING. 317
whose faces presented a vacant blank, in which it was impos
sible to trace the smallest interest or emotion. They did not
exchange a word with each other, but sat in their wagons,
with a half-sturdy and half-fatuitous look of apathy, listening
to the sound of the bells which were attached to the horses by
which they were drawn, and as careless as those animals of
the events in which they were going to take a part. It was
easy, however, to perceive to which faction they belonged ;
for poles were placed in each of these wagons, with placards
attached to them, on which directions were given to the loads
of freeholders to vote for their respective proprietors. I ex
pected to have seen injunctions to vote for Emancipation, or
for the Constitution, or against Popery and Slavery. These
ordinances would, in all likelihood, have been above the com
prehension of "the men of Kent;" and, accordingly, the more
intelligible words, " Vote for Lord Winchilsea," or " Vote for
Lord Darnley,"* were inscribed upon the placards.
I proceeded to my place of destination, and reached Penen
den Heath. It is a gently-sloping amphitheatrical declivity,
surrounded with gradually-ascending elevations of highly-cul
tivated ground, and presenting in the centre a wide space,
exceedingly well calculated for the holding of a great popular
assembly. On arriving, I found a great multitude assembled
at about an hour before the meeting. A large circle was
formed, with a number of wagons placed in close junction to
each other, and forming an area capable of containing several
thousand persons. There was an opening in the spot immedi
ately opposite the Sheriff for the reception of the people, who
were pouring into the enclosure, and had already formed a
dense mass. The wagons were laden with the better class of
yeomen, with the gentry at their head. A sort of hustings was
* John Stuart Bligh, fourth Earl of Damley, was born in 1767, and died in
1831. In 1829, he claimed the Scottish Dukedom of Lennox, as next heir, in
default of 'male issue for the last of the Stuarts. Cardinal York, who died in
1807 and was the next-of-kin (legitimate) of King Charies II., had been
duly served heir to the peerage. The House of Lords have not come to a de
cision on this claim. The Darnley property in Kent, is Chobham HaU, near
Gravesend. The Earldom is Ii-ish, hut its holder sits in the Lords, for his
English harony of Clifton. — M.

318 PENENDKN HEATH MEETING.
raised for the Sheriff and his friends, with chairs in the front,
and from this point the wagons branched oS in two wings —
that on the left of the Sheriff being allotted to the Protestant,
and the right having been appropriated to the Catholic party.
The wagons bore the names of the several persons to whom
they belonged, and were designated as '' Lord Winchilsea's,"
or "Lord Darnley's," or as "The Committee's," and ensigns
were displayed from them which indicated the opinions of their
respective occupiers.
The moment I ascended one of the wagons, where all per
sons were indiscriminately admitted, I saw that the Protest
ants, as they called themselves, had had the advantage in
preparation, and that they were well arrayed and disciplined.
Of this the effects produced by Lord Winchilsea's amval
afforded strong proof; for the moment he entered, there was a
simultaneous waving of hats by his party, and the cheering
was so well ordered and regulated, that it was manifest that
every movement of the faction was preconcerted and arranged.
The appearance of Lord Darnley, of Lord Eadnor,* and the
other leaders of the Catholic party, was not hailed with the
same concurrence of applause from their supporters ; not that
the latter were not warmly zealous, but that they had not been
disciplined with the same care.
I anxiously watched for the coming of Cobbett and of Hunt.
I not only desired to see two persons of whom I had heard so
much, but to ascertain the extent of their influence upon the
public mind. Cobbett, I understood, had, before the meeting
took place, succeeded in throwing discord into the ranks of the
liberal party. He had intimated that he would move a peti
tion against tithes. To this Lord Darnley vehemently ob
jected, and asked very reasonably how he could, as a peer of
* William Pleydell Bouverie, third Earl of Radnor, was bora in 1779, and
sat in the House of Commons, from an eaily age until IS28. He was kiiown.
as a Commoner, by his courtesy title of Viscount Folkstone, during his fiithor's
life. He took a leading part, in 1809, in the investigation of the chai-ges
against the late Duke of York, of havihg allowed Maiy Anne Clarke, his mistress,
to dispose of commissions in the ai-my, by her influence. Whither in the Upper
or Lower House, the speeches and votes of Lord Radnor have generally been
in aid of the hberal cause. — M.

WILLIAM COBBETT. 319
the realm, co-operate in such a proposal. Several others, how
ever,, although they greatly disapproved of Cobbett's proposi
tion in the abstract, were disposed to support any expedient
which would have the effect of extinguishing the Brunswick
faction. It had therefore been decided first, to try whether
the Brunswick measure could not be got rid of without having
recourse to any substitute, and, in the event of failing in that
course, to sustain Cobbett's amendment. Cobbett had dined
the preceding day at Maidstone, with about a hundred farmers,
and had been very well received. He there gave intimations
of his intended proposition against the Church. His friends
said that he had devoted great care to his petition, and that he
plumed himself upon it. I thought it exceedingly probable
that he would succeed in carrying his measure, especial!;^ as
he had obtained a signal triumph at a meeting connected with
the Corn-Laws, and borne down the gentry before him. These
anticipations had greatly raised my curiosity about this singu
lar person, and I watched the effect which his coming should
produce with some solicitude.
He at length anrived. Upon his entering the enclosure, I
heard a cry of "Cobbett, Cobbett!" and turning my eyes to
the spot from which the exclamation came, I perceived less
sensation than I had expected to find.* Some twenty of the
* William Cobbett, son of a small farmer in Sussex, was born in 1762, and
enlisted as a private soldier, when he was about two-and-twenty years old. He
was sent with his regiment to British North America ; diligently educated him
self as an English scholar; was raised by his good conduct to the rank of ser
geant-major; obtained his discharge (with good-service certificate) after seven
years' service ; returned to England, and went to France to perfect himself in
French ; thence came to the United States, where, writing under the soubriquet
of "Peter Porcupine," he got into hot water; he again returned home, and
supported the Goverament in a daily paper called the Porcupine ; changed tliat
publication into Cobbett's Weekly Register, in which he assailed the Ministry,
with much continuity and force ; was prosecuted, and fined repeatedly, hut
moat heavily for comments on the illegal flogging of some militia-men at Ely,
for which he had to undergo two years' imprisonment, with a fine of one thou
sand pounds sterling ; continued his Register, however, during his confinement,
and until what were called the " Six Acts" were passed to check him ; came
back to America, whence his Register, still published in London, was duly
supplied with " copy," until his final return to England in 1819, bringing with

320 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
lowest class of freeliolders made some demonstration of pleas
ure at liis appearance, and followed him as lie made his way
toward a Avagon on the right of the Sheriff. He was dressed
in a gray frieze coat, Avith a red handkerchief, which gave him
a very extraordinary aspect, and presented him in contrast
with the hody of those who occupied the wagons, who, on ac
count of the public mourning, were dressed in black. He
seemed in excellent health and spirits, for his cheeks were
almost as ruddy as his neckcloth, and set off his white hair,
while his eyes sparkled at the anticipation of the victory which
he was confident that he should obtain. He seemed to me to
him the bones of Thomas Paine ; successfully contested the representation of
Coventry, in 1820, and of Preston, in 1826; warmly supported the French
Revolution of July, 1830; was tried, in .July, 1831, for the publication of "a
libel, with intent to raise discontent in the minds of the laborers in husbandry,
and to excite them to acts of violence, and to destroy comstacks, machiueiy,
nnd other property ;" defended himself so ably and boldly, that the jury declined
agreeing on a verdict of conviction ; and thus allowed him a victory over Lord
Grey's Ministry, who had prosecuted him. From that hour, his attacks on the
Grey Ministry were untiring. Ho ti-avelled all over the counti-y, lecturing
against them, and alwftys with success. He continued his weekly attacks on
them, in his Register, and his exposure of ministerial nepotism and gi-asping
selfishness, as evidenced by " The Grey List," or schedule of places and sinecures
distributed among members and connections of the family of Earl Grey, had
a mighty influence in throwing that nobleman into the cold shade of unpopu
larity, after the Keform Bill excitement had subsided. In December, 1832,
Cobbett was elected M. P. for Oldham, in Lnncashire, under the Keform Bill.
He was constant in his attendance, and a good man of business, but did not
succeed in Parliament — a motion of his for the impeachment of Sir Robeit
Peel was a signal failure. The late hours and unwholesome atmosphere of the
House told against one who used to boast of rising at four and going to bed at
nine. In May, 1835, he was suddenly attacked \\\\h a disease of the throat,
which eventuated in his death, on June 17, 1835, aged seven t}'-three. In July,
1852, his second son, John Morgan Cobbett, was elected member for Oldham,
which he had unsuccessfully contested in July, 1835, on his father's death, as well
as in July, 1847, — William Cobbett was an inconsistent politician, very much
swayed by impulse and personal feeling, but, self-taught as he was, no English
writer of his time was master of a purer style of writing. Southey, the poet,
told me, in 1836, that since the time of Jeremy Taylor, no man had written
such pure, homely, and expressive English as William Cobbett. He had a
great love of the country, and seme of his descriptions are landscapes in words.
A curious vein of egotism ran through all nis writings, and, strangely enough,
formed one of their leading atti'actions. — M.

WILLIAM COBBETT. 321
mistake the following and acclamation of a few of the rabble for
the applauses of the whole meeting. When, however, he as
cended the wagon, and stood before the assembly, he ought to
have discovered that he did not stand very high in the general
favor ; for while the circle about him cheered him with rather
faint plaudits, the moment his tall but somewhat fantastical
figure was exhibited to the meeting, he was assailed by the
Brunswickers with the grossest insults, which, instead of exci
ting the anger, produced a burst of merriment among the Cath
olic party. "Down with the old bone-grubber!" — "Oh, Cob
bett, have you brought Burdett along with you?" — "Where's
your gridiron ?" — " Will you pay Burdett out of the next crop
of Indian corn V These, and other contumelies, were lavished
upon him by a set of fellows who were obviously posted in the
meeting, in order to assail their antagonists and beat them
down. Cobbett was so flushed with the certainty of success,
and so self-deluded by his egregious notions of his own impor
tance, that his temper was not at first disturbed, but, looking
down triumphantly to those immediately about him, and draw
ing forth a long petition, told them that he had brought them
something that should content them all. I surveyed him at
tentively at this moment.
Cobbett is generally represented as a man of rather a clown
ish-looking demeanor ; and I have read, in some descriptions
of him, that he could not, at first view, suggest any notion of
his peculiar intellectual powers. I do not at all agree in the
opinion. He has certainly a rude and rough bearing, and
affects a heedlessness of form, amounting to coarseness and
rusticity. But it is only requisite to look at him, in order to
see in the expression of his countenance the vigorous mind
with which he is endowed. The higher portion of his face is
not unlike Sir Walter Scott's, to whom he bears, especially
about the brow, a resemblance.* His eyes are more vivid
* There were several points of personal resemhlance between Scott and Cob
bett — so much so that when I first saw Cobbett, in 1830, I mistook him for Sii
Walter, whose acquaintance I had made, some time before, on his visit to Ire
land. Scott was taller and more erect ; Cobbett looked like a plain, well-to-do
farmer. The expression of Scott's face indicated shrewdness and sagacity ; that
14*

322 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
than the great author's, while the lower part of his countenance
is expressive of fierce and vehement emotions. His attire and
aspect certainly suggest, at first view, his early occupations,
and the predilections of his later life (for he is more attached
to agriculture than to politics) ; but whoever looks at him nar
rowly will see the impress of intellectual superiority upon his
countenance, and perceive, under his rude bearing, the pre
dominance of mind. When he first addressed the people, he
was in exceedingly good humor ; and as he snapped his fingers,
and cried out, " Emancipation is all roguery !" the laugh which
the recollection of his own devotedness to the Catholic cause
created, was echoed by his own merriment, and he seemed to
enjoy his political inconsistency as an exceeding good joke.
He told the people that he was well aware that the Sheriff in
tended to adjourn the meeting, but that he would stay there,
and hold a meeting himself. ^
Next to Cobbett stood the great leader of the radicals, Mr.
Hunt.* A reconciliation has been recently effected between
of Cobbett's denoted more of cunning — the look of a man detennined not to
he taken in. Both wore very plain attire, and I never saw gloves with either.
Cobbett dressed like a Surrey farmer: Scott like a Border laird. — M.
* Heni-y Hunt, for a long time the leader of the Radical Reform movement
in England (hence the title of " Radicals"), was originally a fanner in Wilt
shire. In his youth, he was such a strong loyalist, that, in 1801, when Napoleon
threatened to invade England, which threat did " fright the isle out of its pro
priety," he offered the whole of his stock, valued at twenty thousand pounds
sterling, for the use of the Government, if needed, and engaged to enter, with
three of his servants all well mounted and equipped at his own cost, as volun
teers into any regiment of horse that might make the first charge upon the
enemy. He joined the Mailborough troop of cavalry yeomaniy, but a dispute
with Lord Bruce, its commander, caused him to challenge that officer, for
which he was tried, fined one hundred pounds, and imprisoned for six weeks.
From this time he joined the party who demanded radical reform of all abuses
in' Church and State. In August 16, 1819, he presided at a reform meeting
in St. Peter's fields, Manchester, where the Magistrates internipted the pro
ceedings by sending mounted yeomanry among the unarmed multitude, shooting
and sabring them in a brutal manner. This has long been called " The Mas
sacre of Peterloo." The murdering niagisti-ates escaped with impunity, but
Hunt was indicted as the ringleader of an unlawful assembly of the people, tried,
convicted, and sentenced to three years' imprisonment in Ilchester jail. He
oubsequently attempted to drive « trade hy selling ground roasted com, as a

HENEY HUNT. 323
them, and they stood together in the front of the same wagon
-before the people. I was surprised to find in Mr. Hunt, a man
of an exceedingly mild and gefttle aspect, with a smooth and
almost youthful cheek, a bright and pleasant eye, a sweet and
urbane smile, and altogether a most gentlemanlike and dis
arming demeanor. His voice too is exceedingly melodious,
and as soft as his manners. This Griacchus of Manchester is
utterly unlike the picture which the imagination is apt to form
of a tribune of the people ; and, indeed, I do not consider him
to possess the external qualifications of a great demagogue,
though he is certainly endowed with that plain and simple
eloquence which is so peculiarly effective with an English
multitude. Near Hunt and Cobbett, the Pylades and Orestes
of radicalism, stood Counsellor French,* an Irish Catholic
barrister, who is now a proselyte among the reformers, but
seems to have many of the qualities necessary to constitute an
apostle in the cause, and is likely one day to set up for himself.
In the wagon next that in which Cobbett, Darrel, and Hunt,
substitute for coffee, hut the Excise interfered. Finally, he settled down into
a large manufacturer of " Hunt's Matchless Blacking." He made several at
tempts to obtain a seat in Parliament, but was unsuccessful at Bristol, Westmin
ster, and Somersetshire. At last, in the borough of Preston, in Lancashire, the
potwallopers (every man who boiled a. pot within its limits) elected him in
1830 and again in 1831 — the first time rejecting their previous member, Mr.
Stanley (Earl of Derby, in 1854) whose family had long all but nominated the
members. Mr. Hunt, a popular open air speaker, by no means made his mark
in the legislature, hut was quiet, and subdued, though consistent in the liberality
of his votes. He was nearly sixty years old when he entered Parliament, and
was too old to accommodate himself to its routine and requirements. In the
election of 1832, following the enactment of the Reform Bill, tbe electors of
"proud Preston," as the smoky place is called, did not re-elect Mr. Hunt.
He died in February, 1835, aged sixty-two. In person he was tall and mus
cular. His oratory was singularly devoid of ornament, but he had a plain way
of putting facts, argument, and assertions, before his auditory, which had im
mense force. He published his own Memoirs, while in prison, but their liter-
ary merit was small. At one time, he was the most popular man in England,
and his summons would have collected a hundred thousand men, in the suburbs
of London alone. — M.
* Counsellor French, who was a strong Catholic, held a pubhc discussion at
Hammersmith, London, on points of religious faith and practice, with a Minis
ter of the Scotch Church, naijied Cumming. This was many years after Eman
cipation was granted. Both claimed the victory — of course. — M.

324 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
were placed, sat Mr. Sheil, the Irish demagogue. This gentle
man was said, by some people, to have been sent over by the
Association ; while others asserted, that he had of his own
accord embarked in the perilous enterprise of addressing " the
Men of Kent." There was a feeling of curiosity, mingled with
disrelish, produced by his appearance there. The English
Catholics had endeavored to dissuade him from the under
taking ; and Mr. Darrel, a gentleman of property in the
county, was particularly anxious that he should not attempt
to speak. Lord Darnley was also very adverse to this adven
turous step, and so far from having given Mr. Sheil a freehold,
had intimated, I heard, that the death-bed of the Duke of
York was not yet so much forgotten, that Mr. Sheil should
venture into such an assembly.* That gentleman sat in one
of the wagons, apparently careless of the impression which he
should produce ; but his pale and bilious face, in which dis
content aud solicitude, mingled with a spirit of sardonic viru
lence, are expressed, and his restless and unquiet eye, gave
indications that he was annoyed at the opprobrious epithets
which were showered upon him, and that he was anxious about
the event, as it should personally affect himself. There is
certainly in Mr. Shell's face and person little to bespeak the
favor of a public assembly ; and if he produces oratorical
effects, he rtiust be indebted to a power of phrase, and an art
in delivery, of which, in the uproar in which he spoke, it was
impossible in that meeting to form any estimate. Next to Mr.
Sheil was the wagon appropriated to the Committee, where
there were some English Catholics ; and Lord Darnley's and
Lord Radnor's wagons succeeded.
The opposite wing was, as I have mentioned, occupied by
* When the Duke of York was dying, two years after he had sworn, " So
help me God," that he never would consent to any measure of Catholic Eman
cipation, Mr. Sheil endeavored "to point a moral" from the approaching
funeral of him who had raised his hand to heaven against the speaker's coun
try, and concluded by saying that, the solemn pageant ended, " the business,
and pursuits, and all the frivoUties of life will bo resumed ; and the heir to
three kingdoms will he in a week forgotten ; we, too, shall pardon and forget
him." There was a great outciy against this speech, at this time, and the
Brunswick Clubs fanned the angiy flame, as best they could. — M.

EAIJL OF WINCHILSEA. 325
the Brunswickers, of whom by far the most conspicuous was
Lord Winchilsea. He is a tall, strong-built, vigorous-looking
man, destitute of all dignity or grace, but with a bluff, I'ude,
and direct nautical bearing, which reminds one of the quartei--
detk, and would lead you to suppose that he was the mate of a
ship (a conjecture which a black silk handkerchief tied tightly
about his neck, tends to assist) rather than an hereditary Coun
sellor of the Crown. Whatever feelings of partiality his late
conduct may have generated toward him with his own faction,
he is certainly not popular in the county; for he is the terror
of poachers, and is most arbitrary in the enfoi'cement of the
game laws. It is but justice to him to say, that he has, upon
one or two occasions, when he has detected poachei's upon his
estate, given them the alternative of going to prison or fighting
with him; for to his political he superadds no inconsiderable
pugilistic qualifications. He seems very well qualified to lead
an English mob, and possesses, in a far greater perfection than
Hunt or Cobbett, the demagogic qualities of voice, which gave
him, at Penenden Heath, a great advantage over his oppo
nents.* Before the chair was taken, he was actively engaged
in marshalling his troops, and cheering them on to battle, and
it was manifest that he felt all the excitement of a leader
engaged in a cause, upon the issue of which his own political
importance was depending. I did not remark any persons of
rank about him, and, indeed, the Protestant was conspicuously
inferior in this particular to the Catholic wing. There wex'O,
however, on the left side, a number of persons, iu whom it was
easy to recognise the sacerdotal physiognomy, of far more
influence than noblemen could have been ; the whole body of
the Kent Clergy were marshalled for the occasion ; and not
only the priests of the established religion, but many of the
* George Finch Hatton, tenth Earl of Winchilsea and Nottingham, was bom
in 1791, and succeeded to the title in 1826. His place in Kent, is Eastwell
Park. He has always been much opposed, polemically and pohtically, to the
Catholics. In 1829, having published a letter in which he imputed to the
Duke of Wellington a desire to introduce popery into every department of the
state, the Duke called on him to retract and apologize, and, on refusal to do so,
was challenged by his Grace, and a duel ensued, in which neither combatant was
hit. — In youth, from his loud voice, the Earl was called " Roaring Hatton." — M.

326 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
dissenting preachers of the Methodist school, were arrayed
under the Winchilsea banners. It was easy to recognise them
even amid the crowd of men habited in black, by their lugu
brious and dismal expression. The clergy at the meeting were
so numerous, that the Protestant side had much more a clerical
than an agricultural aspect. '
The different parties being thus distributed, and every
wagon having been occupied, and the whole of the area within
the enclosure having been filled by the dense crowd, the
Sheriff, Sir T. Mary on' Wilson,* appeared exactly at twelve
o'clock, and took the chair. He seemed to me, from the dis
tance at which I saw him, a young man, quite untutored in the
business of public meetings ; but he had beside him his sub-
sheriff, Mr. Scudamore, who appeared to have all the zeal by
which his employer was actuated in the cause of Protestantism,
and to be perfectly well-versed in the stratagems by which an
advantage may be given to one party, without affording to the
other the opportunity of complaining of any very gross breach
of decorum. This gentleman had a coarse, red-whiskered,
and blunt face, of the Dogberry character, in which a vulgar
authoritativeness was combined with those habits of submission
to his superior, which are generally found in subordinate func
tionaries. The High-Sheriff having taken his station, delivered a brief
speech, in which he stated the object of the meeting to be the
adoption of such measures as should be deemed most advisable
for the support of 4he church establishment ; and he concluded
by enjoining the assembly to hear all parties, a precept which
he certainly exhibited no very great solicitude to embody in
his own conduct. A letter from the brother of Mr. Honey wood
was then read, in which an excuse was made for that gentle
man upon the ground of indisposition (it was well known that
* Sir Thomas Maryon Wilson, who, as High Sheriff of Kent, was " first man
in the county" in 1828, was born in 1800 ; owns a property in Kent, called
Charlton House ; and has been chiefly noted, of late years, by his constant ef
forts to obtain the enactment of a Parliamentaiy statute allowing him to enclose,
for his own use and profit, a great part of Hampstead Heath, near Highgate,
which is now tho common property of the London public, and is used by them
for purposes of healthful recreation. — M.

THE DUCHESS AND THE COALHEAVEK. 327
he was adverse to the objects of the meeting), and then Mr.
Gipps rose to move the petition. I found it difficult to ascer
tain exactly who he was ; but thus far I learned, that he is
not a man of influence or weight from property in the county,
and, indeed, I could see no motive for putting him in the fore
ground, excepting that he has a clear and distinct voice, which,
in a less clamorous assembly, would have been probably heard
hy a considerable part of the meeting. He dwelt upon a vari
ety of the common topics which are pressed into the service
of Anti-catholicism, but gave no novelty by any unusual dis
play of diction to the old arguments against Popery. He
seemed himself to chuckle at what he concesved to be a pecu
liarly jocular and picturesque representation of Mr. O'Connell,
at the Clare election, bowing down to receive the benediction
of a Bishop, forgetting that it was hardly stranger on the part
of Mr. O'Connell to go through, what is, after all, I believe, a
common form with pious Koman Catholics, than for a Duchess
to print her beautiful lips on the black and bearded mouth of
a coal-heater, in order to obtain a vote for Mr. Fox.* I am
surprised that this parallel was not adduced in Mr. O'Connell's
defence. After Mr. Gipps had expended himself in a monoto
nous and wearisome diatribe against the Catholic religion, he
proceeded to read a petition, which the liberal party had antici
pated would have prayed distinctly against all concessions to
the Eoman Catholics. To their surprise, it was couched in the
following words : —
* Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, whose [reputed?] son is the present
Duke, was a very clever, charming, and (though her hair was of the color be
tween golden and red) beautiful woman. She was a leader of the fashionable
world of London, for many years. She was married at the early age of seven
teen, and her house became a sort of political meeting-place for the old Whig
leaders. She wrote poetry — and Coleridge eulogized the "heroic measure"
of her " Passage of Mont St. Gothard." She composed music also, and pa
tronized painters and sculptors. During the great Westminster Election, in
which Fox, " the Man of the People," was a candidate, she personally can
vassed for him. The story alluded to by Mr. Sheil was that having asked a
coal-heaver to vote for Fox, he said, " Yes, if you will kiss me," and that, put
ting a guinea between her hps, she allowed him to take kiss and coin at tho
same time-, on which he voted for Fox! — The Duchess, albeit much talked
about, is heheved to have been a virtuous wife. She died in 1806, aged forty-
nine. — M.

328' PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
" Your Petitioners beg leave to express to your Honor
able House, their sense of the blessings they enjoy under
the Protestant Constitution of these Kingdoms, as settled
at the Revolution, viewing with the deepest regret the
proceedings which have for a long time been carrying on
,in Ireland.
" Your Petitioners feel themselves imperatively called
upon to declare their strong and inviolable attachment to
those Protestant principles, which have proved to he the
best security for the civil and religious liberty of these
Kingdoms. " They therefore approach your Honorable House, hum
bly but earnestly praying that the Protestant Constitution
of the United Kingdom may be preserved entire and in.-
violable."
The phraseology of this petition, from its moderate charac
ter, excited some surprise; and it was justly said that no
Protestant could object to the matter for which it ostensibly
purported to pray. The compatibility of concession to the
Catholics with the entirety and inviolability of the Protestant
Church, has been alwa3's maintained, by not only the Prot
estant, but Catholic advocates of their claims. This subdued
tone of the petition gave distinct proof that the Clubbists cal
culated upon a strong opposition to any more forcible inter
ference with the legislature. The object, however, of the
Clubbists was obvious, aud the petition was resisted, not so
much upon the ground of its containing anything in itself very
objectionable, as that the intent of the petitioners themselves
was avov/ed.
A Mr. Plumtre* seconded Mr. Gipps. It was said that he
was a Calvinist, and he certainly had the aspect which we
might suppose to have been worn by the founder of his religion
In 1828, Mr. Plumtre was one of the parliamentary representatives of Kent,
and ultra-illiberal in his politics and religion. He properly belonged to a small
but compact body in the House of Commons, called " The Saints." He was
a well-meaning, foolish-acting, absurd-speaking man — a sort of parliamentaiy
Malvolio. — M.

MAEQUIS CAMDEN. ' 329
when he ordered Sfirvetus to be consumed by a slow fire. He
said nothing at all worth note.
When Mr. Plumtre sat down, Lord Camden addressed the
Sheriff.* He occupied a peculiar station. Instead, as was
observed in one of the morning papers, of taking his place
upon the right side, and bringing up his tenants in a body, he
came unattended, and selected a place upon the hustings near
the Sheriff. He deprecated all kinds of partisanship in the
course which he took in the proceedings ; and certainly his
deportment and look indicated that it was with no other feel
ing than one of duty, and without any kind of struggle for
superiority, that he had mingled in the contest. I do not
know whether it was his office as Lord Lieutenant of the
County that procured him a patient hearing from both sides,
or whether, before their passions were strongly excited, they
forbore from offering an indignity to a person who from his age
and rank derived a title to universal re.spect. He was the
only person who was heard with scarcely any interruption.
His speech was exceedingly well delivered, in a surprisingly
clear, sonorous, and audible intonation. He condemned the
conduct of the Catholics in the language of vehement vitupe
ration, but at the same time pointed out the extreme violence
with which their demands were resisted. The only circum
stance in his speech worth recording is, that he mentioned his
belief that some measure of concession was intended by Gov
ernment. This attracted great attention ; and it is difficult to
* The Marquis Camden deserves a passing notice, were it only to commem
orate his praiseworthy conduct, as a sinecurist. He was son of the great Earl
Camden, Lord Chancellor of England, 1766-'70. He was born in 1759, edu
cated at Cambridge, entered the House of Commons in 1780 ; and, in the same
year, was appointed one of the Tellers of the Exchequer, a lucrative sinecure.
He succeeded his father in the Earldom in 1794 ; and soon after went, as Lord-
Lieutenant of Ireland. In 1804, he became a Cabinet Minister, and quitting
office on the death of Pitt, resumed it on the downfall of the Grenville admin
istration. He was rewarded with a Marquisate in 1812, and, when an outcry
was raised against sinecures, resigned for the public gbod about thirty thousand
pounds sterling a year, out of the proceeds of his tellership. The whole amount
80 surrendered amounted to about two hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
He was Lord-Lieutenant, custos-rotulorum, and vice-admiral of Kent, and died
in 1840, aged eighty-one. — M.

330 PENENDEN HEA.TH MEETING.
conceive how a person, so prudent and so calm as Lord Cam
den manifestly is, would have intimated any belief of his upon
the subject, unless there were som^ foundation on which some
thing more substantial than a mere conjecture could be raised.
Toward the end of his speech the Clubbists became exceed
ingly impatient, and one of them called him " an old Radical;"
a tex-m of which he protested that he was at a loss to discover
the applicability, as he had never done anything to please the
Radicals. This Mr. Hunt afterward controverted, and insisted
that he had done much to gratify the Radicals by giving up
his sinecure — a panegyric which was well merited, and was
most happily pronounced.
Lord Darnley followed Lord Camden, but was received with
loud and vehement hooting. This nobleman is considered to
be very proud, without being arrogant, and to have as full con
sciousness of the dignity and rights of his order, as Lord Grey
could charge any Whig disciple to entertain. He must have
been deeply galled when he perceived that his rank and wealth
were only turned into scoff, and when in the outset of his speech
a common boor cried out, " That there fellow is an Hirishman.
Tim, put a potato down his throat, and choke his d  d
Hirisli jaw.'' He was not deterred from going on by the
bowlings which surrounded him, and with far more intrepidity
than I should have been disposed to give him credit for, he
proceeded with his speech. He soon, however, received a
blow, which wounded him much more than the potato propo
sition ; for the moment he began to talk of his estate in
Ireland (where he has a very large property), several people
cried out, " Why don't you live on your estate, and be d  d
to you, and to every other d  d absentee P' This was a
thrust which it was impossible to parry. Lord Darnley en
deavored to proceed ; but the uproar became so terrible, that
not a word which he uttered could be heard in the tumult.
Whatever faults the Clubbists may have committed, any exces
sive deference to raflk and wealth was not, on this occasion at
least, among their defects; and indeed, with the exception of
Cobbett and Sheil, no man was listened to with more angry
impatience than the noble Earl. After speaking for about

KIVAL OEATOEB. 331
twentyminutes, hesat down with evident marks of disappoint
ment and personal mortification.
On his resuming his place, with a determination, I should
presume, never to expose himself to such an affront again,
Lord Winchilsea and Mr. Sheil rose together. The compe
tition for precedence into which the Irish demagogue was so
audacious as to enter with the chief and captain of the Bruns
wickers, excited the fuiy of the latter. Mr. Sheil insisted
that, as Lord Camden had — as was, I believe, the case —
alluded to him, he had a right to vindicate himself; and there
were many who surmised that his motive for presenting him
self at this early stage of the proceedings was, that he had
sent his speech to London to be printed ; and he was heard to
say that he did not care whether the Brunswickers listened to
him, provided his arguments were read.* Whatever was his
object, it was certainly not a little presumptuous in a stranger
thus to enter the lists with an Earl, and to demand a prior
audience. "I am an Irishman," said Mr. Sheil. "I'll be
sworn you are," cried Cobbett ; " j'ou are such a d  d impu
dent fellow." The party on the right endeavored to support
Mr. Sheil, and for a long time both Lord Winchilsea and that
gentleman continued to speak together, amid a confusion in
which neither could be heard.
At length the Sherift' interposed, and declared that Lord
Winchilsea had first obtained his eye. That nobleman pro
ceeded to deliver himself of a quantity of commonplace
against the Catholic religion, amid the vehement plaudits of
his own faction, intermingled with strong marks of disapproba
tion from the right. "Mushroom Lord — upstart — go mind
your rabbits, and the Papists are not poachers !" were the
cries of the liberal party; while the Brunswickers exclaimed,
* Mr. Sheil had prepared a long and brilliant oration, to be delivered at the
Penenden Heath Meeting, and Murdo Y'oung, of " The Sun" new.spaper had
it published that evening as if it had been spoken. Only a few sentences
were actually spoken, but the speech, to the extent of several columns, was
sent all over the United Kingdom, on the wings of the press, and produced a
strong impression wherever read. I recollect that, on returning from Penenden
Heath, on the evening of the meeting, Mr. Sheil supped at the "Sun" ofiice,
and I had the gratification of being one of the party. — M.

332 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
"Bravo, Winchilsea!" and waved their hats, as with the
lungs of Stentor, with the gesture of a pugilist, and the frenzy
of a fanatic, he proceeded. Altliough utterly destitute of idea,
and though scarcely one distinct notion, perhaps, could be
detected in his speech, yet Lord Winchilsea, by the energy
of his action, and the impetuosity of his manner, and the strong
evidences of rude sincerity about him, made an impression
upon his auditors far greater than the cold didactic manner of
Lord Camden or Lord Darnley was calculated to produce.
There can be no greater mistake than the supposition that
the English people are not fond of ardent speaking, and of a
vehement rhetorical enunciation. Lord Winchilsea is perfectly
denuded of knowledge, reflection, or command of phrase ; yet
by dint of strong feeling he contrives to awaken a sympathy
which a colder speaker, with all the graces of eloquence, could
never attain. He seems to be in downright earnest ; and al
though his personal vanity may be an ingredient in his sincer
ity, it is certain, whatever be the cause, that his ardor and
vehemence are far more powerful auxiliaries to his cause, than
the contemplative philosophy of the Whigs, who, contented
with their cold integrity of purpose, adopted no efficient means
to bring their tenants to the field, and encounter their oppo
nents with the weapons which were so powerfully wielded
against them.
After having whirled himself round, and having beaten his
breast and bellowed for about half an hour. Lord Winchilsea
sat down in the midst of the constitutional acclamations of the
Brunswickers ; and Mr. Sheil, aud Mr. Shea, an English Cath
olic gentleman, both presented themselves to the Sheriff. The
Sheriff gave a preference to Mr. Shea, who made a bold and
manly speech, but was interrupted by the continued hootings
of the Protestant party. The only fault committed by Mr.
Shea was, that he dAvelt too long on the pure blood of the
English Catholics — a topic of which they are naturally but a
little tediously fond : it were to be desired that this old blood
of theirs did not stagnate so much in their veins, and beat a
little more rapidly in its circulation. With their immense for
tunes, and a little more exertion, what might they not accom-

sheil's unspoken OEATION. 333
plish in influencing the public mind 1 Excellent men in pri
vate life, they are not sufficiently ardent for politicians, and
should remember that their liberty may be almost bought, and
that two or three thousand pounds well applied might have
turned the Kent meeting.
Mr. Shea having concluded. Lord Teynham rose; and Mr.
Sheil, at the Sheriff's request, gave way to him. Lord Teyn
ham had been a Roman Catholic* His name is Roper, and,
I believe, he is descended from Mrs. Roper, the daughter of
Sir Thomas More. He was assailed with reproaches for his
apostasy by the Protestants ; and, though he made a very good
speech, it was neutralized in its effect by his desertion of his
former creed. So universal (however unjust, perhaps) is the
antipathy to a renegade, that among the Brunswickers them
selves, his having ceased to be a Catholic rendered him an
object of scorn. " That fellow 's a-going to shift his religion
again!" — "Oh, my Lord, there's a man here as says that
v/hat your Lordship's saying is all a d  d Popish lie !" and
other ejaculations of the same character warned my Lord
Teynham that his change of creeds had not rendered him
more acceptable to his audience.
Lord Teynham having sat do'^n amid the Brunswick groans,
Mr. Sheil rose among them. He was vehemently applauded
on the right, and as furiously howled at from the left. " Down
with him, the traitor!" — "Down with the rebel!" — "Apolo
gize for what you said of the Duke of York !" — " Send him
and O'Connell to the Tower!" — "He got his freehold last
night in Maidstone !" — "Down with him !" — " Off, Sheil, off!"
— "We're not the Clare freeholders !" — " See how the viper
spits!" — " How the little hanimal foams at the mouth ! take
care of him, he'll bite you!" — "Off, Sheil, off!" were the
greetings with which this gentleman was hailed by the Bruns
wickers, while his own party cried out, " Fair play !" — "Oh,
you cowards, you are afraid to hear him !"
Of what Mr. Sheil actually said, it was impossible to give
any account ; and the miraculous power by which " The Sun"
* Henry Francis Roper, fourteenth Lord Teynham, bom 1760, died 1842.
His estate in Kent was called Linstcd Lodge. — M.

334 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
newspaper of that night contrived to publish his oration in
three columns, must be referred to some Hohenloe's interposi
tion in favor of that journal. I heard but one sentence, which
I afterward recognised in print, as having been spoken : " See
to what conclusion you must arrive, when you denounce the'
advocates of Emancipation as the enemies of their country.
How far will your anathema reach 1 It will take in one half
of Westminster Abbey ; and is not the very dust, into which
the tongues and hearts of Pitt, and Burke, and Fox, have
mouldered, better than the living hearts and tongues of those
who have survived them 1 If you were to try the question by
the authorities of the illustrious dead, and by those voices
which may be said to issue from the grave, liow" would you
determine ? If, instead of counting votes in St. Stephen's
Chapel, you were to count monuments in the mausoleum beside
it, how would the division of the great departed stand 1 Enter
the aisles which contain the ashes of your greatest legislators,
and ask yourselves as you pass how they felt and spoke, when
they had utterance and emotion, in that senate where they are
heard no more : write ' Emancipatior' upon the tomb of every
advocate, and its counter-epitaph on that of every opponent
of the peace of Ireland, and shall we not have a majority of
sepulchres in our favor?" With this exception, I do not think
that the Irish demagogue uttered one word of what appeared
in the shjipe of an elaborate essay in the newspapers."
After having stamped, and fretted, and entreated, and men
aced the Brunswickers for half an hour, during which he sus
tained a continued volley of execrations, Mr. Sheil thought it
prudent to retreat, and was succeeded by Mr. Larkin, an auc
tioneer from Rochester, who delivered a very clever speech in
favor of radicalism, but had the prudence to keep clear of
Emancipation. His occupation afforded a fine scope for Bruns
wick wit. "Knock him down — going, going, gone !" and sim
ilar reminiscences, exhibited the aristocracy of the mob. Mr.
Larkin was not at all disturbed, but, with an almost unparal
leled sang-froid, drew a flask from his pocket, and refreshed
himself for the next sentence, when the uproar was at its
height.

KNATCHBULL and COBBETT. 335
When he had finished. Sir Edward KnatchbuU, the member
for the county, and Cobbett, who had been railing for hours at
the long speeches, got up together. The Sheriff preferred Sir
Edward, upon which Cobbett got into a fit of vehement indig
nation. He accused the Sheriff of gross partiality, and, while
Sir Edward KnatchbuU was going on, shook his hand repeat
edly at him, and exhibited the utmost savageness of de
meanor and of aspect. His face became inflamed with rage,
and his mouth was contorted into a ferocious grin. He grasped
a large pole, with a placard at the head of it in favor of Lib
erty, and, standing with this apparatus of popularity, which
assisted him in supporting himself at the verge of the wagon,
he hurled out his denunciations against the Sheriff. The Bruns
wickers roared at him, and showered contumely of all kinds
upon his head, but with an undaunted spirit he persevered.
Sir Edward KnatchbuU was but indistinctly heard in the tu
mult which his own party had got up to put Cobbett down.
He seems a proud, obstinate, dogged sort of Squire, with an in
finite notion of his own importance as an English county mem
ber, and a corresponding contempt for seven millions of his
fellow-citizens. He has in his face and bearing many of the
disagreeable qualities of John Bullism, without any of its
frankness and plain dealing. He is rude without being honest,
and offensive without being sincere.* Cobbett was almost
justified in complaining that such a man should be preferred
to him.
When he had terminated a speech, in which it was evident
that he was thinking of the next election, at which the Deer-
ings intended to dispute the county with him, Cobbett was
allowed by the Sheriff to proceed. His hilarity was restored
for a little while, and holding out his petition against tithes,
he set about abusing both parties. In a letter published in
the Morning Herald, he takes care, in his account of the meet-
* Sii Edward KnatchbuU, of Mersham Hatch, Kent (which his family have
owned since the time of Henry IL), was bom in 1781, and succeeded lo the
title in I8I9. He eventually abandoned much of his intolerance, was Paymas
ter of the Forces, in Peel's last Ministry, and continued comparatively liberal
until his death. — M.

336 PENENDEN HEATH MEETESTG.
ing, to record the opprobrious language applied by the multi
tude to others ; but he omits all mention of what was said of
himself. " Down with the old Bone-grubber !" — "Roast him
on his gridiron;" — "D — n him and his Indian corn;" were
shouted from all quarters. He was not, however, much dis
composed at first, for he was confident of carrying his petition,
and retorted with a good deal of force and some good humor
on those who were inveighing against him. "You cry out too
weakly, my bucks !" said he, snapping his fingers at thera.
"You cry like women in the family-way. There's a rascal
there, that is squeaking at me, like a parson's tithe-pig."
These sallies amused everybody ; but still the roar against
him continued, and I was astonished to see what little influ
ence he had with even the lower orders by whom he was sur
rounded. The Catholic party looked upon him as an enemy,
who came to divide them, and the Brunswickers treated him
with mingled execrations and scorn. At length he perceived
that the day was going against him, and his eyes opened to
his own want of .power over the people. Though he after
ward vaunted that the great majority were with him, he ap
peared not to have above a dozen or two to support his propo
sition, and when he sat down, evident symptoms of mortification
and of rage against all parties appeared in his countenance.
Altogether, he acquitted himself as badly as can be well
imagined ; and it seems to me as clear that he is a most
inefficient and powerless speaker, as that he is a great and
vigorous writer.
Hunt got up to second him, and was received almost as
badly as his predecessor, though his conduct and manner were
quite opposite, and he did everything he could, by gentleness
and persuasiveness, to allay the fury of the Brunswick party.
But, after he had begun. Sir Edward KnatchbuU interrupted
him in a most improper and offensive manner, which induced
Lord Radnor to stand up and reprobate Sir Edward's conduct
as a most gross violation of decorum. Mr. Hunt went on ; but,
whatever may be his sway with public assemblies on other
occasions, he certainly showed few evidences of omnipotence
upon this. He seemed to be crest-fallen, and to have quailed

UEUNSWICKEES' TEIUMPH. 337
under the force which was brought to bear against him. One
story he told well, of Sir Edward KnatchbuU having refused
to pay him for four gallons of beer, when he was a brewer at
Bristol, because he had sold him a less quantity than that pre
scribed by the law : altogether, his speech, if it might be so
called, when he was not allowed to utter a connected sentence,
was a complete failure ; but I am convinced that no estimate
of his ability can be formed from this specimen of him, as his
voice was stifled by the faction to which he was opposed.
Indeed both parties seemed to repudiate Cobbett and Hunt,
as their common enemies.
Before Hunt had finished, there was a tremendous and
seemingly a preconcerted cry of " question" from the Bruns
wickers; Hunt went on speaking, and immense confusion took
place. Mr. Calcraft interfered in vain. Mr. Hodges and Lord
Radnor then moved an amendment, declaring that the measure
should be left to the discretion of the legislature ; and amid a
tumult, to which I never witnessed anything at all comparable,
the Sheriff put the question. It has been stated in the news
papers that the Brunswickers had a great majority ; the im
pression of a vast number of persons was quite the reverse.
They were indeed so well disciplined, that their show of hats
was simultaneous, while the liberal party hardly knew what
what was going forward. The Sheriff omitted to put Cobbett's
amendment, which seemed to be forgotten by every one but
himself; and having announced that there was a large major
ity for the petition moved by Mr. Gipps, retired from the chair.
The acclamations of the Brunswickers were reiterated ; the
whole body waved their hats, and lifted up their voices ; the
parsons shook hands with each other : the Methodists smiled
with a look of ghastly satisfaction ; and Lord Winchilsea,
losing all decency and self-restraint, was thrown into convul
sions of joy, and leaped, shouted, and roared, in a state of
almost insane exultation. The whole party then joined in
singing " God save the King," in one howl of appropriate dis
cord, and the assembly broke up.
Thus terminated the gi-eat Kent meeting ; to which, how
ever, I conceive that more importance, as it affects the Cath-
VoL. IL — 15

338 PENENDEN HEATH MEETING.
olic question, is attached than it deserves. I have irot room
left for many comments, but a few brief observations on this
striking incident are necessary. The triumph of Protestantism
is not complete. The whole body of the clergy, who are in
Kent exceedingly numerous, were not only present, but used
all their influence to procure an attendance, and the utmost
exertions were employed to bring the tenantry of the anti-
Catholic proprietors to the field. No exertion was made upon
the other side. Lord Camden boasted that he had not inter
fered with a single individual; yet it is admitted that at least
one third of the assembly were favorable to the Catholics.
The spirit of Lord George Gordon ma}^ by the metempsycho
sis of faction, have migrated into Lord Winchilsea; but, while
he is as well qualified in intellect and in passion to conduct a
multitude of fanatics, his troops are of a very different charac
ter. Will the legislature shrink before him 1 Or will it not
rather exclaim, " Contempsi Caiilince gladios, non partimcscam
tuosV Will the Government permit such precedents of pop
ular excitation to be held up?" and does it never occur to
the Tory party that the time may not be far distant when
republicanism may choose Protestantism for its model, and,hy
rallying the people, act upon the same principle of intimida
tion? If the Catholics are to be put down by these means,
may not the aristocracy be one day put down by similar expe
dients? Will the House of Lords stand by and allow all the
opulence and the rank of a large county to be trampled upon
by the multitude ? for it must occur to everybody, that Lord
Winchilsea was the only nobleman on the side of the petition
ers, while the rest of the Peerage were marshalled on the
other. Do the patricians of England desire to see a renewal
of scenes in which the nobles of the land were treated with
utter scorn, and the feet of peasants trod upon their heads ?
Let statesmen reflect upon these very obvious subjects of
grave meditation, and determine whether Ireland is to be
infuriated by oppression, and England is to be maddened with
fanaticism; whether they are not preparing the way for the
speedy convulsion of one country, and the ultimate revolution
of the other.

LORD-CHANCELLOR BROUGHAM'S LEVEE.
Unfeigned respect for, aud a slight personal acquaintance
with, the noble person who now holds the Seals, led me to at
tend his last levee.* This could not be done without some
inconvenience ; and not the least of it was the necessity of be
ing equipped in full court-apparel. I do not object to this
dress — indeed, I much approve of it in those who mingle in
the gorgeousness of courts ; but plainer attire would have more
befitted the taste of an humble incognito. I mention this fact,
lest it might be supposed that I was guilty of the not improb
able gothicism of appearing in a garb fit for the funeral, but
not the levee of a Lord-Chancellor. The practice of receiving
the respects of the public on one or two stated occasions is suf
ficiently ancient, but I have understood was discontinued, or
not much obseiwed, in the latter days of Lord Eldon. It was
revived with somewhat greater splendor by Lord Lyndhurst,
but still it attracted little public notice. His Lordship never
secured any very considerable share of general favor. As a
lawyer, he was not at the head, though among the chief of his
profession. For my own part, I do not regai'd his secondary
eminence in the law as detracting much from his eminence as
a public character, when it is recollected that Brougham him-
* This sketch was published in No. I of the Metropolitan Magazine (May,
1831), which was started by Thomas Campbell, the poet, after he had retired
fi'om the Editorship of the New Monthly Magazine, which he had held for a
period of ten years. Lord Brougham's first levee would probably have been in
Hilary Term, I83I, and the second, described by Mr. Sheil, at the commence
ment of the following Easter Term, or in April, 1831. — M.

340 LOED brougham's levee.
self ranked much below Gurney,* Pollock, Campbell, and sev
eral others, whose distinction is derived from law alone — the
lowest basis on which the fame of a public man can rest. In
politics his career had not been such as to command respect.
He was uniformly the supporter of the most profitable opinion.t
* The late Sir John Gumoy, long known as one of the best cross-examiners
at the bar, was made a puisne judge, and in that capacity, no one could say of
him, " Even his failings leaned to mercy's side,"
for he was most severe in his judgments. Sir Frederick Pollock and Lord
Campbell are yet alive — the first, is Chief Baron of the Exchequer; the other,
is Lord Chief Justice of England, and obtained a peerage in June, 1841, by
the scandalous job (ah'cady refeiTcd to in my notes on the sketch of Plunket)
of being made Irish Chancellor, for a few days, to obtain the retiring pension
of four thousand pounds sterling, when the Melbounie Ministry, whose first
law-ofiicer he was, had no other means of quartering him on the public. — M.
t Lord Lyndhurst, who has been Lord Chancellor of England under five Ad
ministrations, is American by birth, having been bom at Boston, May 21, 1772.
His grandfather, Richard Copley, was an Irishman who emigrated to America;
John Singleton Copley, this man's son, born in Boston in 1738, showed great
natural taste for painting, which he adopted as a profession. He went to Eng
land, where his fine historical painting, the death of Lord Chatham, gave him
high reputation. He painted several other subject-pictures, which caused him
to be elected a Royal Academician. He died in 1815, having lived to see the
dawning success of his son. The future Chancellor having eminently distin
guished himself at Cambridge University, was called to the English bar in 1804,
and, at first was remarkable for his ultra-liberal politics. He soon became
leader of his circuit, entered Parliament, adopted Tory views, and was rewarded
by the Government, with the Chief Justice of Chester in 1818. He was made
Solicitor-General, and knighted, in 1819, became Attorn ey-Genei-al in 1824;
was made Master of the Rolls in 1826 ; and was raised to the rank of Lord
Chancellor, with a peerage, as Lord Lyndhurst, when Lord Eldon and five of
his colleagues simultaneously resigned, with a view to embarrass Canning, the
new Premier, in 1827. Lord Lyndhurst was continued in the office of Chancellor
under the brief administration of Lord Goderich, and was retained, fiom 1827
to November, 1828, by the Duke of Wellington, under whom, in 1829, the
pliant lawyer advocated Catholic Emancipation, as strongly as he had assailed
it before. In November, 1830, when the Duke's Cabinet broke up, Lyndhurst
had to resign, and was succeeded by Brougham. In 1831, Lord Lyndhurst
was made Chief Baron of the Exchequer, which ho resigned, in December,
1834, again to become Lord Chancellor. But Peel's Ministry, of which he
was one, was compelled to resign in April, 1835. From this time, until the
autumn of 1841, Lord Lyndhurst held no official station, but received his retire
ing pension of five thousand pounds sterling. He made a speech, for several

LOED LTNDHUEST. 8-41
lu early life a flagrant Whig, as opening up the best field for
talent; in a more advanced stage, the hitter enemy of the
Catholics, so long as the star of Lord Eldon, the great dis
penser of legal favor, was in the ascendant ; and finally, when
office had secured him, the advocate of the Catholics on what
was called the constitutional ground, when all favor was in the
giving of the Duke of Wellington.*
It is not remarkable that the levees of Lord Lyndhurst
should have passed off in quietness. I do not remember to
have heard that the ceremonial was observed hy his Lordship,
although, from the known display of this fashionable lawyer,
there is no doubt that it was not neglected. If, however, his
levees had been attended by the magnificent, it is equally cer
tain that the fact must have attracted public notoriety. I in
cline to think that it was reserved for Brougham to illustrate
the ancient custom, by the splendor of those who chose to be
dutiful to the Lord-Ohancellor. The fashion of going to court
subsequent years, at the close of each Parliamentary Session, in which he ably
and unmercifully exposed the " sayings and doings" of the Melbourne Ministry.
When Peel again became Premier, in 1841, Lord Lyndhurst, for the fifth time,
was made Lord Chancellor, and continued in office, until June, 1846, when
the Peel Ministry was broken up. It is said that he was offered the Great
Seal, for the sixth time, in 1852, by Lord Derby, but declined on the plea of
advanced year's — having then reached the age of seventy. As a politician,
Lord Lyndhurst has been inconsistent and flexible ; as a parliamentary speaker,
severe and sarcastic ; as an advocate, powerful and effective ; as a judge, acute
and shrewd. In common law, he has had few superiors ; and though his bar-
practice was not in the Chancery courts, sagacity and great common sense
marked his decisions in'equity. He still attends to his parliamentary duties
[January, 1854], but seldom speaks. — M.
** War, to which Wellington owed his celebrity, rank; and fortune, has usually-
been an expensive luxury to John Bull. In the last four years of the contest
with France, the cost to the British nation was — 1812, £103,421,538; 1813,
£120,952,657; 1814, £116,843,889 ; 1815, £116,491,051. The expenditure
during the war, from 1803 to 1815 inclusive, was £1,159,729,256. It was
stated after the hattie of Waterloo, that young men in the United Kingdom
(such as usually enlist) were so generally killed off that it would have been
impossible to raise another army. I have heard Doctor Buckland, the
geologist, state (in a course of lectures which I attended when at Oxford), that
the present French soldiery owe their stunted appearance to the conscription
in the time of Napoleon, which drew away the manhood of the country, leaving
the population to spring from immature youths or exhausted vieillards.—M.

342 LOED beougiiam's levee.
is such, that it infers little personal respect to the individual
monarch ; but the practice of attending the levee of an inferior
personage is to be ascribed to the respect which individual emi
nence commands.
When Lord Brougham announced his levees,- it could not be
known whether he should receive the homage of the aristoc
racy, to whom it was not supposed that his Lordship's politics
were very amicable. It was, moreover, thought that the re
publican, or, to speak more guardedly, the Whig Lord-Ohan
cellor, would care little for a custom in which there was no
manifest utility. He had declared that the gewgaws of office
delighted him not ; and I dare say he would fain bring his
mind to believe that all ceremonial was idle, perhaps con
temptible. But it is the greatest mistake to suppose that Lord
Brougham is inattentive to the ceremonies with which his high
place is surrounded. A careful observer will see clearly that
imposing forms are perfectly agreeable to his mind ; nobody
could ridicule form better, so long as he held no situation which
required the observance of customary rules : but, elevated to
his present distinction, it is plain that he enjoys all the little
peculiarities of his office. Somebody said that he presided in
the House of Lords in a bar-wig, and instanced the fact as a
proof of his reforming temper ; but it was not true. Accident
may have obliged him to take his seat in this ungainly form,
but he had no purpose of deviating from the ancient full-bot
tom, and he is now to be seen in all the amplitude of the olden
fleece. In like manner he observes the strict regime, so fantas
tical to a stranger, of causing counsel to he shouted for from
without, although they are actually present, and he adds to
the oddness of this custom by receiving them with a most im
posing mien, and putting on his chapeau as they advance.
This is a form for which the model is not to be found in the
practice of his immediate predecessors. It is possible, how
ever, that his extensive and minute reading may have made
him aware that Wolsey, peradventure, or some great Chancel
lor of old, had the fancy to be covered when the suppliants
approached. Let any one observe vvith what studied dignity
he performs the duty of announcing the royal assent to acts

HISTOEY OF HIS PEOMOTION. 343
of Parliament; he assumes a solemnity of tone for which his
voice is not ill fitted, but which is unusual with him. These
small circumstances, and many such which might be mentioned,
.show that state is not uncongenial to his mind. Why should it 1
His weakness consists in the unreal contempt for what is not
really contemptible.
With his high notions of office, I should have been surprised
if he had foregone the levee ; and assuredly he has not reck
oned without reason ; for a more splendid or flattering pageant
could not be witnessed than that which his rooms exhibited.
Unquestionably the most remarkable man in the empire at
this moment, it is his fortune to attract the honorable regards
of all who are distinguished as his compeers. It is not my in
tention to offer any estimate of what I conceive to be his gen
uine worth, as he. may be appreciated in a more dispassionate
time; I speak of him only as a great man filling a very large
space in the consideration of the empire. Judging from the
throng of all classes upon this occasion, whose favor is desira
ble, no man is more popular.*
* To us, looking back upon public events, it may now appear singular that
there could have been any doubt, on the part of the Whigs, on taking office,
in November, 1830, of Brougham's claim to pai-ticipate in " the spoils." For
nearly twenty years, he had been one of the leaders of the liberal party in the
House of Commons. Iu that capacity none had more ably or consistently ad
vocated education, and parliamentary, and law reform. On Queen Caroline's
trial, he distinguished himself above all others, and his advocacy of her cause,
while it precluded him from Court favor, greatly endeared him to the public.
In 1827, he strongly supported Canning's Ministi-y, but declined, it is said, the
office of Master of the Rolls, vacant by Lord Lyndhurst's elevation to the Wool
sack. At the general election in 1830, on the accession of William IV., the
gi'eat County of York returned him, without his competitor's nsking a contest,
as one of its representatives. He pledged himself to inti'oduce a measure of
Parliamentary Reform, and the day being fixed for its introduction, the Wel
lington Cabinet was beaten into resignation, whereupon Lord Grey was em
powered to construct a liberal Government. The post of Attorney-General
(which is not held by one of the Executive) was offered to Brougham and de
clined. It was an inferior post, for Lord Grey actually was afraid of the great
genius of the man who had emphatically become " the observed of all obser
vers." Afraid that Brougham's plan of Parliamentaiy Reform would be bolder
and better than that promised hy the Whigs, the highest office was offered him
and accepted. On November 22, 1834, he took his seat in the House of LordSi

344 LOED beougham's levee.
His levee is held on a Saturday evening, at the unsuitable
hour of ten o'clock. It was rather late before I could come
up, and I found the whole square in the vicinity of his resi
dence crowded with carriages. Threading one's way amid
many obstructions, I reached the house, and which (to observe
on a matter so small) I should remark is not very suitable for
the residence of either its former (Earl Grey) or present occu
pant. It is expected that a noble aristocrat should be found
in ample halls, surrounded by suitable magnificence, hut this
is not the house iii which the lordly capital of the peers should
be lodged. The principal rooms are of moderate dimensions,
and the suite consists only of two. It was not surely in this
house that Lord Byron found the family of Lord Grey, when
he formed the very exalted opinion of their patrician accom
plishments to which he gives expression in one of his letters.
The preparations for announcement were those which are
usually observed. The Chancellor took his place at a corner
of the I'oom, backed by his chaplain, and was soon encircled
by the visitants; his dress remarkably plain, being a simple
suit of velvet in the court cut. The names were announced
from the bottom of the stairs, and each person as he entered
walked up to the Chancellor and offered his respects. The num
bers were so great, that it was impossible to devote any marked
attention to each ; as soon, therefore, as the visiter had made
his bow, he retired into the throng, or took his departure through
the adjoining room. I was not present at the first of the levees
which were held, and at which the attendance was very dis
tinguished ; but a friend who was, spoke very highly of the
maimer in which the Chancellor performed his noviciate.
The Archbishop of Canterbury came early, and was very
kindly received. He was followed by the Archbishop of York
and several other bishops, whose attendance gave proof that,
differ as they might from Lord Brougham, they surely did not
as Baron Brougham and Vaux, and Lord High-Chancellor of England. He
held this office for four years, namely, until November, 1834. While Lord
Erskine's Chancery Judgments are laughed at as " the Apocryphal Volume,"
those of Lord Brougham, collected and edited by Charles Purton Cooper, the
eminent Chancery bari'ister, are constantly referred to, as authority.— M.

"the moN DtiicE." 345
consider him an enemy to the Church.* There is something
uncommonly bland in the appearance and expression of the Pri
mate ; he is the very reverse of the full-blown dignitary who
is commonly seen in high places. One's notions of a bishop
are apt to be those which we entertain of a high-feeding drone
— with little duty that is of much real consequence, but with a
most exalted notion of such duty as he is called on to dis
charge. Not so the present Archbishop of Canterbury : I mis
take his character extremely if he is not a meek as well as a
highly-accomplished servant of his Master. I know not
how he ascended to the primacy, but I am sure that it is
not dishonored in his hands. Brougham evidently likes his
Grace. The most remarkable visiter of that evening was the Duke
of Wellington. The crowd was astonished, and I dare say
the Chancellor himself was surprised, when his name was sent
up. I doubt if they had ever met in the same room before.
Their political lives, with the exception of the Catholic ques
tion, were one unvarying course of opposition, if not enmity.
I suspect that for a time the Duke despised the talk of the
lawyer; and, on the other hand. Brougham had often declared
that the respect which he entertained for military glory was
not very lofty. Some of his bitterest tirades were levelled at
the Duke personally. No one will deny that it was high-
minded in the Duke to lay aside resentment of every sort, and
offer this mark of respect as well to the man as the office. The
Chancellor was flattered by the attention, and shook the Duke
by the hand very cordially. There is not much heartiness of
manner about the Duke, whatever may be the reality ; and
his dry features, thinned by the great labors in which his life
has been passed, do not easily or readily relax into a smile ;
hut on this occasion it was remarked that his countenance was
more expressive of good-will than usual.t He engaged in con-
* Dr. Howley, Archbishop of Canterbury, died in 1848. — Dr. Harcourt,
Archbishop of York, died in 1847.— M.
+ Brougham and Wellington subsequently became intimate friends. On one
occasion. Brougham publicly described Wellington as " the most magnanimous
of men." — M. 15»

346 LOED beougham's levee.
versation for a minute or two with the Chancellor, and then
gave place to the subsequent visiters who pressed for audience.
His Grace immediately joined some military friends who had
previously been received.
Not the least remarkable personage in the room was the
Lord-Advocate of Scotland.* Brougham and he are very old
friends, and have been much engaged in the same species of
literature. Lord Brougham was his predecessor iu the editor
ship of the " Edinburgh Review" — a fact which is not gener
ally known, but which is certain. Brougham was not the first
editor, having filled that office fbr a short time after Sydney
Smith withdrew from the situation. Jeffrey appeared ex
tremely ^e/zY in his court-dress, and did not seem very much
at home ; he was acquainted with but few of his fellow-visiters,
and had too much good taste to occupy much of the Chancel
lor's attention. They did not seem to hold any conversation
beyond the usual commonplace inquiries.
Ascending the stairs, I was met by a hobbling old Lord —
Carnarvon by name. There is nothing very courtly or digni
fied in the appearance of this nobleman.f He has- been a
Whig the greater part of his life, but affects to be greatly dis
mayed at the Eeform Bill ; and has more than once run a tilt
against the Ministers, but with no very marked success. Arm-
in-arm with Lord Carnarvon came the gay and the good-look-
" Francis Jeffrey, was bom in 1773, and was one of Sir Walter Scott's con
temporaries and early associates. Called to the bar in 1794, he soon obtained
a high reputation for eloquence, and gradually got into practice, but was chiefly
eminent, during nearly thirty years, for his connection with the Edinburgh Re
view, as contributor and editor. The first number appeared October 25, 1802,
and three editions were exhausted in as many weeks. It soon became, what
it has ceased to be, the able and recognised organ of the liberal party in Great
Britain. In 1829, when the profession chose him Dean of the Faculty (of law),
Jeffrey retired from the Review. In 1830, he was appointed Lord-Advocate of
Scotland, under the Grey Ministry, and entered Parliament, where he by no
means distinguished himself. In 1834, he was promoted to the Scottish bench,
where, applying all the great powers of his mind to the task, he became one
of the best Judges that ever adorned that high station. He died in 1850. — M.
t Henry George Herbert, second Earl of Carnarvon, bom in 1772. died in
1833, aged sixty-one. His son and successor, then Lord Porchester, had iis-
tioguished himself as tho author of " The Moor," and other poems. — M.

A BATCH OF NOBLES. 347
ing Earl of Errol,* blooming with the most healthful roseate;
and immediately behind followed Sir Robert Wilson. Time
and hard service have made little impression on a set of not
very extraordinary features. There is a buoyancy about this
historic soldier which bespeaks a good heart.! He seems to
have lost much of his fancy for senatorial display; and, truth
to tell, Parliament is not the place of all others in which he
has been destined to shine. He is one of the few whose hard
fortune in less auspicious times has stood him in good part in
later days.
On entering the room, I was struck by the superior brilliancy
of the military costumes, always the most prominent at such
times. Military rank is both common and honorable, and its
apparel seems to be in favor with all classes. Hence it is that
many, such as the lieutenants of counties, whose duty is exclu
sively of a civil nature, adopt the fashions of the army. There
were half a dozen Lords-Lieutenant in the room, among whom
I particularly observed the Duke of Argyle.f I am told that
his Grace is a man of talent ; and his fine featui'cs, the remains
of what rendered the Marquis of Lorn one of the most eminent
ly handsome men of his time, are now thoughtful and melan
choly. The present Administration has given the Great Seal
of Scotland to the Duke of Argyle ; and in duty he is found
* The late Lord EitoI (whose Earldom was created in 1453), was Heredi
tary Lord High Constable of Scotland, which is the highest hereditary distinc
tion in the United Kingdom, after those of the Royal Family. He mamed one
of the illegitimate daughters of William IV. and Mrs. Jordan, the actress, and
died in 1846, aged forty-five. — M.
t Sir Robert Wilson, who much disringuished himself by his military services
fi'om 1793 to 1815, aided in the escape of Lavalette, frora Paris, in the latter
year. In 1821, for taking the popular side, at the funeral of Queen Caroline,
he was dismissed from the British army. A public subscription indemnified
him from the pecuniary loss, and he was reinstated some years after. From
1818 to 1831 he represented Southwark in Parliament. In 1841, he was raised
to the rank of full General. In 1842, he was appointed Governor of Gibraltar,
and had just returned from that post, after seven years' of command, when he
died suddenly. May, 1849, aged seventy-two. — M.
t The sixth Duke of Argyle, bora in 1768, maii-ied Lady Caroline Villiers
(who had previously been the wife of, and had obtained a divorce from, the
Marquis of Anglesey), and died in October, 1839. — M.

348 LOED beougham's levee.
at the levee of its Chancellor. Along with his Grace were
several other peers of ducal rank, but whose fortunes were no
way interesting to me.
After I had paid my respects to the Chancellor, there came
tripping up the Marquis of Bristol* with a springy step, which
he must surely have acquired at the old court of Erance ; for I
am sure that no such movement could be attained on English
ground. The elasticity of this noble Lord was such that, when
once put in motion, he continued to spring up and down in the
manner of the Chinese figures which are hawked by the Ital
ian toy-venders. Had I been told that the head of the house
of Newry was a dancing-rnaster, who had not yet learned the
present modes, I should certainly have believed the story with
out scruple if I had met him anywhere else.
He had no sooner left the Chancellor, than he was laid hold
of by a fidgetty solicitor,! who was the only member of his
class in the room, and who, I understand, is a sort of favorite
of the Chancellor. The obsequious grin and the affected ease
of this worthy do not convey any very favorable impression
on his behalf He was solicitor for the Queen, and in this
capacity had formed an intimacy with her chief counsel, which
an ill-natured person would perhaps think makes him now for
get in some measure the great disparity between their present
condition. The Chancellor gave no discouragement to his fa
miliarity. A certain Sir Something Noel came up immediately after
ward, of whom nothing more remarkable could be told than
that he was the relative of Lady Byron ; and is, I suppose, the
same person of whom Byron expresses himself favorably when
a temporary illness of his lady shortly after their marriage
* Nephew of the celebrated Earl of Bristol, Bishop of Deiry, of whom men
tion has already been made. In June, 1826, he was created Mai'quis. He is
yet alive (January, 1854), and is aged eighty-four. — M.
t This " fidgetty Solicitor'' was William Vizard, subsequently made Secretajy
of Bankrupts by Lord Brougham, in 1832, a post worth twelve hundred pounds
sterling a year, which he occupied for twenty years (until 1852), and then
contrived to get appointed, on its abolition, to an office equally valuable, which
he retains. His connection with the Queen's trial made William Vizard's for«
tune, and ha is now a large landed proprietor in Gloucestershire. — M.

SIE JAMES SOAEr.ETT. 349
looked rather gestatory.* A variety of lords, squires, generals,
ossa mnominata, followed, for whom the Chancellor cared per
haps about as much as I did.
At length Sir James Scarlett was announced, and the Chan
cellor left his place to meet him. His welcome was very
hearty. Brougham was doubtless gratified by this token of
respect from, a man who was indisputably his leader in the
courts,! and for whose forensic abilities it is known that he
entertains, and has often expressed, the highest admiration.
The position of the two men was singular, and to the ex-attor
ney not very enviable. Scarlett was in high practice before
Brougham was even called to the bar. He kept ahead of him
in their profession throughout; and twice he had filled the
first places at the bar, when the respective attainments of these
eminent persons were such, that if Brougham had been placed
before him, Scarlett would have had just ground of complaint,
aud the bar would have unanimously decried the appointment.
Now, however, by one of those cross-accidents which will occur
in the most fortunate lives, Scarlett was, with strict justice and
universal acquiescence, placed below his former competitor,
and in direct opposition to all the early friends with whom he
* Sir Ralph Milbanke's wife was sister of Viscount Wentworth, and she suc
ceeded to the estates, on condition that her name should be changed to Noel.
Her daughter was married to Lord Byron, who prefixed the name of Noel to
his own, on his mother-in-law's death. Sir Ralph Noel died in 1825, and Mr.
Sheil alludes to his relative and successor. Sir John Peneston Milbanke, who
dropped the name of Noel altogether. — M.
+ Perhaps this is the place where I should state the cost of the administration
of justice, which forms an important item in the national expenditure of Great
Britain. In 1852, as appears by Parliamentary retui-ns, the whole amount was
£2,104,196, of which £645,243 was for Courts of Justice (including salaries
of Judges and other officials), £891,542 for police and criminal prosecution,
and £567,411 for correction. In October, 1853, the Reverend Mr. Clay, chap
lain of the House of Correction in Preston (Eng]'.ind) in his annual report to the
magistrates, estimates the loss caused to the public by fifteen pickpockets, whose
career he has traced, including the value of the property stolen, expenses of
prosecution, and maintenance in jail, at £20,500. That is to say, England
was at an expense of £1,766 for each of these worthies — a sum, one tithe
of which, if judiciously applied at the proper time, would probably have suf
ficed to make them useful members of society. — M.

350 LOED BEOUGHAMS LKVEE.
commenced his political career.* It was matter of necessity
and of course that he should go out when his employers were
obliged to surrender office ; and no man could complain that
Brougham should then be elevated to a distinction, which in
other circumstances Scarlett might have thought his own by
indisputable right. The Chancellor remained longer in con
versation with Sir James than any of the other distinguished
persons who appeared. Indeed, his anxiety to show this at
tention produced rather awkward effects. While they were
closely together, Jocky Bell, as he is commonly called, the
very eminent Chancery barrister, came in sight; but he was
suffered to waddle about for some time before he caught the
eye of the Chancellor.! Before the conversation with Sir
James was finished, there were a good many others in the
same unreceived plight, and the Chancellor was obliged to give
them a hasty discharge.
The Speaker of the House of Commons was then announced.
Brougham and he met as warm friends, though certainly men
having little in kindred. In point of talent there is no ground
of comparison ; yet it may be doubted whether they are not
nearly as great in their own w.ay. I have no notion of the
place which the Speaker held in Parliament before he was
elected to the chair, and I know few situations -which require
* It was said that Scarlett, afterward Lord Abinger, " ratted" at the wrong
time. He had been liberal in politics up to 1828 (and had been Canning's
Attorney-General in 1827), but took office with the Duke of Wellington, then
an avowed Tory, and was as intolei-ant as renegades, whether political or reli
gious, usually are. In 1830, when the \^'higs came into power, Scarlett had
to resign office. But, in December, 1834, when the post of Chief-Baron of
the Exchequer became vacant by Lord Lyndhurst's taking the Great Seal,
Scarlett was appointed, receiving a peerage shortly after, and continued Judge
until his death in 1844. — Had he remained with the Whig party, le would
probably have been appointed their Lord-Chancellor in 1830. — M.
t *' Jock Bell," as he was called, was a friend and contemporary of Lord
Eldon's. He was notorious for writing so badly that it w-as said he wrote
three hands ; one, which nobody but himself could read ; a second (that in
which he gave his opinion on cases) which none but his clerk could decipher,
and a third which neither himself nor clerk could make out. It is a fact,
and the foundation of a passage in " Pickwick," that Jock Bell's clerk real
ized a large income by making readable copies of his employer's opinionSj
which were greatly in request, on account of their ability.— M.

THE SPEAKKE. 351
more tact and management. In tliese qualifications the pres
ent Speaker is signally gifted.* He brings a degree of good
nature to the office which no event, however untoward, can
ruffle: his calmness never forsakes him; he is the same easy,
dignified chairman at all times. The Commons are a truly
turbulent body, but they are not impatient of his sway. In
all emergencies he is vigorously supported : in his hands, the
authority of his office, though rarely exercised, has lost none
of its force. Brougham himself was one of the most fiery
spirits in this hot region ; but a word from the Speaker would
calm him in an instant. Among other qualifications for com
mand, he is possessed of a fine, mellow, deep-toned voice,
which, while it powerfully enunciates " Order," frees the
command from all harshness or severity. As the first com
moner in the land, and a truly estimable gentleman, he was
entitled to be well received. But I doubt, if deprived of his
chair, whether he could insure much regard on the score of his
talents. Let me not, however, shade the picture which I have
already drawn ; it is manifest that Mr. Sutton is a general fa
vorite. Every one was eager to pass a minute or two with
him. I was much pleased to witness a frank greeting between
him and old William Smith, who is not now in the House of
Commons ; but who, before he left it, enjoyed the patriarchal
rank of being the father of the body.! The Speaker told him
that they had not much mended since he left. Longer speeches
— more of them — later hours, and fewer divisions — were the
characteristics of the session, compared with its predecessors.
Lord Farnham,f a bluff, weather-beaten old Irish Lord —
the unflinching enemy of the Catholics, and the equally-deter-
" Charles Manners Sutton, speaker of the House of Commons from 1817 to
1834; created Viscount Canterbui-y in 1835; and died July, 1845. He was
very popular as speaker, and allowed himself to be re-elected (after the Reform
Bill was passed in 1332) at the especial request of the Grey Ministry. — M.
t This William Smith, who had a seat in Parliament for forty-six years, was
latterly Member for Norwich. He attacked Southey, in Parliament, as a " ran
corous renegade," and was replied to by the p(jet in nervous and indignant
prose. William Smith was ultra-liberal in politics. He died in 1835, aged
«eventy-nine. — M.
t John Barry Maxwell, fifth Lord Farnham, bcm in 1767, died in 1838. — M.

352
mined enemy of Reform — got hold of the Speaker; and, in
the course of a brief conversation, the latter informed him that
for eight entire days and nights he had never been from under
the roof of the House of Commons. The House had been sit
ting from three o'clock in the afternoon till three and four
o'clock in the morning; and then the business of the commit
tees, commenced at ten o'clock, to which he was obliged to
give a good deal of attention. He spoke of the labor as being
greater than any physical strength could endure. When this
fact is known, it ceases to be wonderful that he should he
anxious, as has been long reported, to exchange the conspicu
ous and most honorable situation which he now holds, for that
of the youngest peerage, and become second to such insignifi-
cancies as Bexley and Sidmouth.* Leaving Farnham, the
Speaker was engaged for a short time with Lord Nugent and
the Marquis of Clanricarde.! Both of these noble Lords ap
peared in the splendid costume which I believe is characteris
tic of the diplomatic corps. Nugent is evidently a person of
the most accomplished manners. The perpetual play of good-
humor on his agreeable features shows that the severity of his
politics does not arise from any harshness of disposition. It
will be recollected that he was the subject of one of Canning's
pleasantries in regard to the Portuguese expedition ; which,
however, had little point, unless his Lordship had been a very
stout man — but this is not the fact. A much larger person
than Lord Nugent would have occasioned no inconvenience to
* The late Nicholas Vansittart, Chancellor of the Exchequer, from 1812 to
1823, was created Baron Bexley. Henry Addington, successively Speaker,
Premier, and Home Secretary, was created Viscount Sidmouth in 1805, and
died in 1844.— M.
t Lord Nugent, born in 1789, sat in Parliament over twenty yeai-s ; was
Lord-Commissioner of the Ionian Islands from 1832 to 1835 ; and died in
November, 1850. His politics were liberal, and he had considerable literary
taste. — The Marquis of Clanricarde, Canning's son-in-law, was born in 1802,
represents the De Burgh or Burke family, and claims to be descended from
Charlemagne. He has heen Ambassador to Russia, and Postmaster-General.
Before 1831, there was a good deal of town-talk about a young man of prop
erty having been " pigeoned" at cards, at Richmond, near London, and it was
said that Lord Clanricarde was one of the party ; but the scandal blew over,
and no proof was given of the imputations on " 'he noble Marquis." — M.

LOED DENMAN. 353
the heavy Falmouth van. Lord Clanricarde is only remarka
ble for his connection with Canning. His countenance is any
thing but pleasing : his fondness for play is well known, and
had at one time placed him in a disagreeable dilemma.
The last person of note who arrived, before I departed, was
Sir Thomas Denman.* The Chancellor was engaged with
some one at the moment, and nothing passed between them
but an exchange of bows. It was nearly ten years since I had
seen Brougham and Denman together: the Queen's trial was
then the all-engrossing topic of public consideration. Who
could then have foretold that these men would have in so short
a space won the confidence of a sovereign, whom they attacked
with a degree of virulence which, even in those days of party
violence, was generally condemned ? The change in feeling
is creditable alike to all.
* Thomas Denman, bom in February, 1779, and created Baron Denman, of
Dovedale, in the County Derby, in March, 1834, was son of a physician in Lon
don. He was called to the bar in 1806 ; went the Midland circuit, entered
Parliament in 1818; became Solicitor-General to Queen Caroline in 1820 ; was
elected Common Sergeant of London, in 1822 ; was made King's Counsel,
with a patent of precedency, in 1826 ; was made Attorney-General, under the
Grey Ministry in 1830 ; was made Chief Justice of England in 1832; raised
to the peerage in 1834 ; and compelled, under Lord John Russell's Ministiy, in
1850, to resign, on the plea of advanced years, to make room for Lord Camp
bell (only two years his junior), for whom a job of the same character had been
perpetrated, iu 1841, when Lord Plunket was literally tui-ned out of the Irish
Chancellorship, in order to give Lord Campbell a legal claim to a life-pension
of four thousand pounds sterling. As an advocate, Denman w-as bold and elo
quent; his denunciation, on the Queen's trial, of the Duke of Clarence (after
ward William IV.) as a " royal slanderer," was decided and fearless — ten years
afterward, this prince, as Sovereign, accepted Denman as his first law officer.
As a judge, he was just and constitutional. Li politics, he has always been
liberal. In Pariiament, he was a ready debater. During the Eeform Bill dis
cussions. Sir C. Wetherell compared Old Sarum (for which three men elected
two members) to Macedon. " Yes," replied Denman, " Macedon was ruled
hy an Alexander:" — an East India Director, named Alexander, being one of
the (so-called) representatives of this nominal borough, with one house, three
voters, and two Members, while Manchester, population four hundred thou-
«and, was w-holly unrepresented  M.

STATE OF PARTIES IN DUBLIN, IN 1831.
On the 5th of this month of May [1831], my business led me
into the Four Courts, Dublin ; and on the way, by a train of
associations too obvious to require to be analyzed, my mind
involuntarily reverted to the past, and took note of the vicis
situdes produced since I last wrote. But it was only when
I found myself in that emporium of law, and politics, and gos
sip — the Hall of the Four Courts — that I felt in all their
force the variety and extent of those mutations. The scene
and the majority of the actors were still the same, and the
general resemblance, at the first view, appeared unimpaired ;
but, upon a nearer scrutiny, how striking and singular had
been the changes !
Of these actors, for instance, one of the first that attracted
my attention was Mr. William Bellew, a Roman Catholic bar
rister of great personal respectability, and of just repute in cer
tain departments of his profession. In his general aspect there
was little perceptible alteration. Time, as if from a kindly
feeling toward an old acquaintance, seemed to have spared
him more than younger men. I found the same spire-like alti
tude of frame ; the same solemn, spectral stride ; the same grave
and somewhat querulous, but not undignified cast of feature.
'' III his own proper person," in face and form, Mr. Bellew was
such as I had seen him in his penal days ; but what a transfig
uration had been accomplished in his gown ! How omnipo
tent must have been that act of Parliament which had substi
tuted his present rustling silk attire for the dingy, tattered
fustian, in which I had so often seen him haunting the pre
cincts of the Court of Chancery, and which he had vowed to

NICHOLAS PUECEL o'gOEMAN. 355
wear while a rag of it remained, as an ensign of reproach to
the presiding bigot of the court ! But Lord Manners and his
tenets had passed away, and Mr. Bellew's epitaph may state
that he too, in his generation, was one of his Majesty's counsel-
at-law. \
My eye, turning from Mr. Bellew, soon rested upon several
other barristers of his creed, who, like him, had been taking
the benefit of the statute. Among them, and apparently the
youngest of the group, was Mr. O'Loghlin, upon whom Emanci
pation had fortunately come just at a period of his career
when promotion, being possible, was inevitable. He is already
one of the three sergeants, and, if the orisons of the public can
confer length of days, the highest judicial office is his certain
destination. But the most singular of those metamorphoses, which, when
I last addressed you, it would have been maniacal to have pre
dicted, was exhibited in the personal identity and present offi
cial attributes of the worthy ex-Secretary of the ex-Catholic
Association, Mr. Nicholas Purcel O'Gorman. This excellent
and best-tempered of organized beings, who, during a life de
voted to the angry politics of Ireland, has made as many friends
as another would have created enemies — who was ever frank
and fearless in the expression of his opinions, even though one
of those opinions was and is that " St. Paul was a decided
Orangeman'' — now stood before me, transformed into nothing
less than a public functionary, by title Cursitor, of that very
court in which Mr. Saurin had pleaded and Lord Manners had
presided. The selection, I am bound to add, has been pro
nounced by the public, from whose discernment in such mat
ters there is no appeal, to have been worthy of the exalted
person to whom, fortunately for Ireland, higher functions than
the extension of mere acts of considerateness toward meritori
ous individuals have been again committed.
I approached the group, to whom Mr. O'Gorman, who had
been recently sworn in, was detailing with humorous exagger
ation the weighty responsibilities that had descended upon his
rather Atlantean shoulders. The Oursitor's office, I collected
from him, was one of the great fountain-heads of justice, whence

356 STATE OF PAETIES IN DUBLIN.
litigation flowed in streams or torrents through the land. It
was emphatically the officina brevium, the inner temple of ori
ginal writs, and the Cursitor the high-priest, without whose
signature, now written with majestic brevity, "O'Gorman,"
those sacred documents would want their legal potency. I
was gratified, however, to hear Mr. O'Gorman add, which he
did with a glance of no doubtful meaning at one of his audi
tors, who had been an unsuccessful expectant under the old
regime, that his hierarchal cares were in some measure soothed
by sundry daily and not unwelcome offerings from the devo
tees at the shrine over which he had been appointed to pre
side. It was an office of trust coupled with emolument, a co
incidence which Mr. O'Gorman, though a stanch reformer, very
justly pronounced to be not incongruous.
These are single instances of the changes which the surface
presented, but I could multiply them without number ; wher
ever I looked around, I found abundant evidences, had I other
wise been unaware of the fact, that the genius of Mr. Gregory,*
no longer presided in the government of Ireland. Religious
peace, and never was a peace more just and necessary, had
been proclaimed ; and, after it, had followed in due course the
gradual decline of as hateful a faction as had ever desolated
and insulted a devoted country. There was, however, no want
of excitement. It had changed its character, btit was as active
in its way as in those dreary times when Mr. Lefroy's theology
and Master Ellis's statesmanship found favor at the Castle.
The groups of animated bustlers in the Hall were no longer
discussing the divided allegiance of the Catholics, or holding
a drum-head inquiry over Mr. Sheil's last speech at the Asso
ciation, hut much was said of schedule A — of its multiform
abominations by the smaller and more hopeless politicians —
of its wisdom and necessity by others, and among them not a
few who conceived it to be both wise and necessary to declare
their opinions in favor of reform. But I soon discovered that
* Of William Gregoi-y (who was Privy Councillor and under-Secretajy for
Ireland) mention has already been made in one of the notes on Lord Norbuiy,
pnge 36, in this volume. Mr. Gregory was a " Protestant Ascendency'' man.
His son represented Dublin, in Parliament, for a time. — M.

THE OANDrOATES. 357
the buzz around me turned upon a matter of a still more imme
diate interest; an active canvass was going forward. The
Dublin election was fixed for the following day ; and the pop
ular party, in perfect accordance upon this occasion with the
wishes of the Government, had determined upon attempting a
decisive blow. Committees had been sitting ; subscription-lists
opened ; Mr. William Murphy sent for ; an earnest but amica
ble conflict of opinion had ensued : Mr. Murphy, with the cau
tion of long experience, was strenuous in his advice that they
should run no risks, but, by concentrating their forces, secure
the return of one member. " Delenda est Carthago" was the
cry of Sergeant O'Loghlin and Mr. Blake, and the bolder
counsel had prevailed : two reform candidates had been started
against the corporation of Dublin.
The competitors upon this stirring occasion were the late
members, Messrs. Moore and Shaw, who rested their preten
sions on their love of corporations, and their hatred of reform ;
Mr. (now Sir Robert) Harty,* the Lord-Mayor of Dublin, and
Mr. Louis Perrin, an eminent member of the Irish bar. The
two latter announced themselves as sturdy reformers.
Of Mr. George Moore I can not tell you much, for I only
know of him what the public knows.! . He is, I should sup
pose, hetween fifty and sixty years of age. There is nothing
remarkable in his face or person. He is a man of mild man
ners and violent opinions ; can make a long speech on most
subjects, either in or out of Parliament ; is the proprietor of an
ample sinecure in one of our courts ; and much regarded by
his personal acquaintances. The only singular events in the
history of his life that I have heard recorded were, his first
return for the city of Dublin, and an incident connected with
it. The day preceding that fixed for the election had closed,
and the corporation, still in search of a fit and proper nominee,
* Sir Robert Harty, who was made a Baronet in September, 1831, was a
liliera)' :n politics. He was an Alderman of the old Dublin Corporation, and
was Lord-Mayor in 1830-'I. Though he and Mr. Perrin were elected, as sta
ted by Mr. Sheil, their triumph was short-lived, for they were unseated on pe
tition. — M.
t Mr. George Ogle Moore, who was M. P. for Dublin, for a short time, wag
one of the most undistinguished men in Parliament. — M.

358 STATE OF PAllTIES IN DUBLIN.
continued their deliberations through the night. Mr. Moore,
as yet unthought of, retired at his accustomed hour to repose.
At midnight, as the story goes, he was suddenly awakened,
and saw at his bedside the portly form of Master Ellis, deputed
from the still-sitting committee, to know if he would consent to
be returned to Parliament from his native city. Mr. Moore
rubbed his eyes, pressed the Master's hand more closely, to as
certain that it was a hand of flesh and blood ; saw visions of Par
liamentary renown start up before him, and thinking that nvw
he surely could not be dreaming, gave his assent. The next
day he was the member for Dublin: the "Min'or of Parlia
ment" tells the rest.
Mr. Frederick Shaw is a much younger man than Mr. Moore.
He was called to the bar in the year 1822, and for the first
five years gave no signs of his subsequent prosperity.* He
was assiduous, but in no way distinguished. The first occa
sion upon which the courts became familiar with his name was
in 1827, ujion the arrival of Sir Anthony Hart as the Lord
Chancellor of Ireland. Sir William M'Mahon, the Master of
the Rolls, conceived that in him was vested the power of ap
pointing a particular officer of his own court. Former Chan
cellors, however, had claimed and exercised the right of ap
pointment, and Sir Anthony Hart announced that he would
follow their example. The Master of the Rolls, desirous that
the question should undergo a solemn discussion and adjudica
tion, nominated his relative, Mr. Shaw, to the office in dispute.
Mr. Shaw presented a petition to the Lord-Chancellor, praying
to be admitted to the performance of the duties, and the per
ception of the profits, and Mr. Saurin appeared as the leading
counsel in support of the claim.
The matter, in itself, was one of no sort of public interest:
it was a mere question of patronage between two judicial dig-
* Frederick Shaw, whose early appointment to the Recordership of Dublin
excited much discussion at the time, probably owed his preferment to the fact
that his aunt was wife of the late Sir William M'Mahon, then Master of tho
Eolls in Ireland. Mr. Shaw, where politics did not bias him, gave satisfaction
as a judge. He was a Privy Councillor and represented the University of Dub
lin in several Parliaments. — M.

CHANCELLOE U.iET. 359
nitaries ; yet wondrous was the interest, or at least the curios
ity, with which the proceedings were watched, and the result
conjectured. It had the novelty of being the first case in any
way peculiar, and that one relating to himself individuallj',
upon which the newly-imported Chancellor was to be called
upon to decide. It was expected by sundry shrewd solicitors
that litigation, even between two such high contending parties,
would produce the usual feelings of personal estrangement, and,
as a profitable result, that appeals from the Rolls to the Chan
cellor would not fail to be multiplied ; while others, who had
heen often made to smart uoder Sir William's inexorable rules
and orders, were delighted to find that his Honor for once had
a prospect of feeling in his own purse what it was to have the
prayer of a petition refused with costs.
These were the effusions of the mere idle gossip of the Hall,
and excited nothing but amusement; but pending the discus
sion, an incident occurred which sent a profounder feeling
through the courts and the country. In the course of his ar
gument, Mr. Saurin, for the moment oblivious of the recent
change of Chancellors, implored of the Court to recollect
the seditious spirit that was abroad, and the factious disposi
tion daily manifested to bring even the highest public func
tionaries into contempt — a disposition which " the continuance
of the present litigation would not fail to foster and gratify."
This was a topic to which Lord Manners would have listened
¦with all the nervous attention of a weak mind overawed by
the horrors of a phantom-story. The healthier intellect of Sir
Anthony saw in it nothing but its inappropriateness. He in
terposed, saying : " If there be any spirit abroad which would
lead persons to degrade the higher authorities of the country,
my opinion is, that that spirit can only be met and counteract
ed by those who hold such high situations having their motives
and their actions exposed to the fullest public scrutiny. When
these motives and that conduct are properly placed before the
world, they may be satisfied that both will be rightly appreci
ated by the public : and so much, Mr. Saurin, for that topic."
The effect of these few simple words in the Irish Court of Chan
cery was electrical. Mr. Saurin was disconcerted ; his Bruns-

300 STATE OF PAETIES IN DUBLIN.
wick friends beside him panic-struck ; Sergeant Lefroy looked
first up to heaven, and then full in the face of his valued friend
Mr. Henchy ; Mr. Henchy responded with a look at once his
torical and prophetic; a buzz of perturbation passed along the
benches of the outer bar ; while Mr. Eccles Cuthbert (almost
the sole surviving Whig of the olden time) rushed forth from
the Court toward the Hall, and, standing at the top of the
Chancery-steps, proclaimed to a group that he beckoned round
him the joyful tidings that "if he'' (Mr. Cuthbert) "could in
terpret the signs of the times — and he thought he could — the
influence of Saurin and his party was gone for ever."
But, to return to Mr. Shaw — the decision of the Chancellor
was against him, but he was quickly consoled for the disap
pointment. The Recordership of Dublin becoming vacant, he
had the good fortune to be elected to the office. The public
were at first dissatisfied with the selection — chiefly, however,
because it had fallen upon so juvenile a person ; hut it is only
justice to Mr. Shaw to state that he has proved himself per
fectly competent to the discharge of the judicial functions that
were thus rather prematurely cast upon him. As the Recorder
of Dublin, he is an assiduous and excellent public officer. I
would further say that this is the very office for which he is
peculiarly adapted. He performs the substantial duties effi
ciently, and wants not the leading ornamental requisites for
those matters of municipal ceremony in which he is called
upon, virtute ojicii, to bear a prominent part. His aspect may
still be over-youthful ; in fact, when he appears at a civic fes
tival attired in his legal costume, his smooth and pallid face
and rather feminine features present a strong similitude to
Portia in the scene where she holds a brief against Shylock;
but ample compensation for this deficiency (if it he one) is
made in the proportions of his frame, which possess all the
necessary corporate massiveness and rotundity for<the scenic
business of a Lord-Mayor's day. I have seen him perform on
such occasions with much effect, and with the bearing of an
actor that liked his part. As the Recorder of an ancient and
loyal corporation, Mr. Frederick Shaw is just where he ought
to be. He has no unseemly contempt for pageantry ; and, for

LOUIS PEREIN. 361
city purposes, is a most discreet and emphatic orator. He can
descant, with suitable amplitude of phrase, upon the sanctity
of chartered rights, and can deliver the prescriptive lecture to an
iircomiug Lord-Mayor, upon his civic re.sponsibilities, in terms
of the most stately and appropriate commonplace. To such
duties he is equal, and not above them. — I pass on to the other
candidates. Sir Robert Harty is a citizen of Dublin, who has risen by
his industry to considerable affluence. In the corporation, of
which he has long been one of the most influential members,
he has been noted for his attachment to liberal principles. He
is the brother-in-law of Alderman M'Kenuy, who in his year
of mayoralty (1819) had the courage to convene a general
meeting of the Protestants of Dublin, to petition in favor of
Catholic Emancipation. Sir Robert Harty's civic career has
been marked by an official act — less conspicuous, it is true,
but of similar boldness. When the Roman Catholic delegates
were prosecuted by the Government in 1812, he was one of the
Sheriffs of Dublin, and empanelled an impartial jury for their
trial. This gave great offence, and both in and out of the cor
poration the honest Sheriff had much to endure for having
done his duty ; but he has fortunately lived to find that sen
tence of condemnation in those times now forms one o^his most
valid titles to public confidence. So great was the imagined
strength of the corporation of Dublin, that for some days Sir
Robert Harty was the solitary candidate upon reform princi
ples. More than one of the commercial body of Dublin, though
strongly urged by the popular party to become his colleague,
had declined. The bar was then resorted to. A union of the
most important qualifications was found in Mr. Perrin, who,
after repeated solicitations, consented to give the public the
use of his name and character for the advancement of the great
imperial measure.
Mr. Perrin was called to the bar in 1806. Tlipre was noth
ing sudden or brilliant in his ascent to professional distinction.
He was patient and persevering; and in his deportment,
whether in or out of court, simple and unobtrusive. Even af
ter the extension of his character for learning and ability had
Vol. II.— 16

362 STATE OF PAETIES IN DUBLIN.
brought him into full practice, there was so little forensic dis
play in his manner — what he said upon each occasion wao
always so much to the purpose, and consequently so short and
direct — that a stranger to his professional repute would have
principally inferred, from the frequency of his appearances iu
court, that he was already high among the most eminent coun
sel of his day.*
Mr. Perrin is, I believe, universally admitted to be the best
common-law lawyer of the Irish bar. It is probably to be at
tributed in some degree to early accidents that his studies and
practice should have been exclusively confined to this depart
ment ; but I apprehend that an original peculiarity of his mind
had also much to do in keeping him out of the courts of equity.
I have heard it related of him that, from the commeneenient
of his legal studies, he felt a deep and unconquerable distaste
to equity -pleading — to that system under which, as a matter
of ordinary routine, fifty false charges may be made against a
miserable defendant on the chance of eliciting a single truth,
and under which the same defendant, if knavishly disposed,
and aided by a dexterous pleader, may resort to as many de
vices to evade a direct and intelligible reply. I can easily
conceive that a mind like Mr. Perrin's, always seeking accu
racy of thought and brevity of expression, should have turned
with disgust from the farrago of long-winded fictions, and end
less repetitions, and wordy superfluities, which form the staple
of Chancery pleadings ; but whatever the motive, he has,
almost from the outset of his career, confined himself to the
common-law courts; among them the King's Bench has heen
the principal theatre of his exertions. Assiduous application
and long experience have rendered him familiar with all the
great branches of the law that are brought into discussion he-
fore that tribunal ; and, to an intimate knowledge of his subject,
he unites logical powers of the highest order. His diction,
though clear and vigorous, is not always fluent; hut the occa-
* Louis Perrin, one of the most able and honest of the Irish bar, was promo
ted, in due course, when the Liberal party were in power, and is now (Januaiy,
1854) third judge of the Court of Queen's Bench, Ireland. In Parliament ho
was a useful and laborious, rather than an oratorical member. — M.

LOUIS PEKEIN. 363
sional tardiness of phrase to which I allude, and which detracts
little from the force or effect of his reasonings, appears to be
very much the result of acquired habits of mastery over the
most important operations of his mind. If he sometimes pauses
for a moment, it is not that he is in want of matter or of words,
but that he is determined and able to retain and exercise a
control over both ; it is that, even while his mind is hurrying
along a rapid chain of reasoning, he still preserves the power
of arresting a thought in its progress from conception to expres
sion, and of ascertaining its fitness for his purpose before he
allows it irrevocably to pass his lips ; and the result of the en
forcement of this inward discipline is, that, though his language
may be rendered less continuous, his argument is sure of being
better for the delay. If Mr. Perrin could consent to be a less
cautious and accurate reasoner, he would, I am satisfied, be
come at once a more fluent speaker ; but he reasons everything,
abhorring all flashy declamation, and guided by a special in
stinct against the use of words for talking-sake.
Having thus shortly referred to Mr. Perrin's professional
qualifications, I need hardly add that he has for many years
commanded the leading business of the Court of King's Bench.
Among the cases constantly occurring on the criminal side of
that court, there is one class in which he appears to have estab
lished a sort of personal property (for he is never omitted) : I
allude to appeals from convictions by magistrates under penal
statutes, particularly those relating to the customs and excise.
In such cases the offending party has usually a twofold chance
of escape — iu the blunders of the legislator, and in those of
the convicting magistrates. The leaning of the court is always
to uphold such convictions ; but Mr. Perrin, with his sagacity,
and pertinacious logic, and adroit application of authorities
that bear, or appear to bear, upon the point, seldom fails to
demonstrate to the full satisfaction of every mind in court (ex
cept perhaps his own) that something, in substance or in form,
has heen wanting to legalize the proceedings from which his
clients have appealed.
The subject-matter of such discussions is in general devoid
of popular interest ; but they sometimes acquire from incidental

364 STATE OE PAETIES IN DUBLIN.
circumstances no small degree of scenic effect. I rememher,
for instance, to have seen some years since one of the side-
galleries of the Court of King's Bench occupied by an entire
ship's crew of Dutch smugglers, brought up, under writs of
habeas corpus, from one of the prisons on the southern coast of
Ireland ; and while Mr. Perrin, as their counsel, was moving
that they should be discharged from illegal custody, and pres
sing the court with arguments and cases, it was curious to ob
serve his weather-beaten clients, with their bluff figures and
contraband visages, how intently they looked on as their fate
was debated in (to them) an unknown tongue, and with what
a singular promptness they appeared to discover, from mere
external signs — from the looks and gestures of the Judges or
the auditors — that their counsel was making way ivith the
court. Their deliverance, I recollect, was effected ; and if they
and the hundreds of others of their trade and country, whom
Mr. Perrin has similarly rescued from an Irish prison, have any
gratitude, his must be a well-known and popular name in the
Dutch ports.
Mr. Perrin's professional eminence was not his sole grouni
of claim to the honor of representing the city of Dublin in Par
liament : he had a further and stronger recommendation to
the public confidence in the vigor and integrity of his personal
character. The political principles which he avows have now,
in the circle of events, become the reigning doctrine of the day,
and the merit may be small of professing such principles at the
present moment. Mr. Perrin's praise is, that what he now is,
he has always been ; that under circumstances the most ad
verse to professional advancement, he entered into no compro
mise between his interests and opinions, but in every stage of
his progress asserted himself and the dignity of his profession
by an erect and independent bearing; he did so in a temper
and spirit the most remote from faction, but he met with little
mercy. He had incurred the virtue of public spirit, and was
marked for discouragement — even the poor distinction of a
silk-gown was delayed until Lord Manners's last general levee
of King's counsel ; and even then it was understood that Mr.
Perrin would have been designedly omitted, had not the Lord

POPULAR TKIUMPH. 365
Chief-Justice, to whose better spirit what is just and manly
is always familiax*, peremptorily interposed his authority, as the
head of the common-law bar, against an act of such unworthy
partisanship. I fear that I am trespassing on the ground of the " Sketches
of the Irish Bar ;" but, as I have gone so far,* let me say a
word of Mr. Perrin's personal appearance. It is not so re
markable as to attract examination j but when you examine it,
you find its unostentatious simplicity to be strikingly accord
ant with his mind and character. His figure is about the mid
dle size, and slightly approaching to corpulence. He has black
hair, a dark complexion, and regular Eoman features. Though
no one has a quicker perception of mirth, or enjoys it more
heartily, the habitual expression of his countenance is grave-
ness, even perhaps to a touch of sadness ; the latter, however,
* Mr. Pen-in was worthy of a distinct place in these " Sketches," for few
lawyers harl so much to contend with, on account of particular family circum
stances (of no interest to the public), w^hich, for a time clouded his prospects.
The touch of sadness upon his countenance was caused, I doubt not, by the mis
conduct of a near relative, which met with exemplary punishment from the law.
The Irish attorneys, among- w^hom this person had once been enrolled, considered
it hard that an innocent man should suffer, from a sort of reflected cloud, and
generpusly showed their sympathy, by throwing- as much business into Mr.
Perrin's hands as they safely could. In a short time, proving equal to the labor,
his great ability obtained, as a right, that practice which, at first had been con
ceded as a favor. In customs and excise cases, he was unapproached, almost from
the first. — As I am on a legal question, and have arrived at the close of thia
work, let me add, in reference to the conviction of .John Scanlan, at Limerick,
in 1820, for murder on the Shannon (as detailed in the sketch called " An Irish
Circuit," in the first volume), that Mr. Sheil treating of the facts, and Gerald
Gi-iffin, working them up into romantic fiction, strangely omitted two strong
points. The first, as to motive. Sullivan confessed to Scanlan's desire to
get rid, by mucder, of the poor young creature whom he had seduced (by mock
marriage), " because she kept calling him her husband." The second, show
ing the malice prepense, was that the crime was delayed until Scanlan had pur
chased a boat, in which the victim was to be carried out of sight of land, and
there " done to death," and until a blacksmith had made a chain and collar to
tie round her neck, attached to a heavy stone, to sink the body. I have read
the report of the trial, since I annotated Mr. Sheil's detail of facts, but only in
time to put the statement into this place. — At this last moment, too, I perceive
that the Marchioness Wellesley (the heroine of the Dublin Tabinet Ball, Vol. I.)
died at Hampton Court Palace, near London, on December 17, 1853. — M.

366 STATE OF PAETIES IN DUBLIN.
I apprehend to be nothing more than the mere trace of the
laborious occupations in which his life has been passed. On
the whole, I would say of his exterior, including face, and
form, and apparel, that it was individualized by a certain re
publican homeliness, intimating a natural, careless manliness
of taste, and not without its peculiar dignity.
I intended, when I sat down, to have entered upon some of
the details of the Dublin election and its sequel ; but the sub
ject, I find, would carry me too far: let me therefore for the
present merely say that, after an obstinate struggle, the corpo
ration, that cumbrous excrescence upon our institutions, was
fairly prostrated, and the popular candidates returned. The
triumph was celebrated with all due rites and solemnities. I
witnessed the chairing from a window in Grafton street. The
sun shone brightly on the procession as it passed — but not
more brightly than the countenance of our venerable and pa
triotic veteran, Mr. Peter Burrowes, who had taken his station
at an opposite balcony, and looked down (as his friend Louis
Perrin was wafted along) with a smile of joyous and ineffable
thanksgiving, that he had been spared to see that day.

INDEX.

ABDUCTION, Trials for, i., 42
j^bercrombie, James, Speaker of the
Commons, ii., 207 ; Sinecurist, Peer,
and Pensioner, 225
Abinger, Lord (See Sir James Scar
lett).
Acres, The Fifteen, ii., 166
Adelaide, Queen, and the Melboui-ne
Ministrj', ii., 209
Affidavit, Oratory of the, i., 72
Agrarian Disturbances, Causes of, ii.,
71
"All Ireland, Member for," i., 257
"All the Talents," in Office, i., 240;
can not cany Catholic Emancipation,
367
American compared with English and
Irish Bar, i., 272
American Marchioness (Wellesley), i.,
333; ii., 365
Amherst, Lord, his Embassy to China,
i., 183; ii., 385
Anglesey, Marquis of, encourages Irish
Agitation, i., 387 ; Memoir of,ii.,255
Antidote, The, Sir Harcourt Lees' Jour
nal, i., 349
Anti-Tithe Emeute in Limerick, i.,229
Appeals, heard by the Peers, i., 175
Approvers, Irish, i., 23 ; ii., 54
Argyle, Duke of, ii., 347
Aristocracy, Irish Catholic, i., 365 ;
join Catholic Association, 380
iasistant-Burristers, Duties of, i., 67 ;
as County Judges, ii., 100
Assizes, at Limerick, i., 151 ; at Wex
ford, i., 287 ; at Clonmel, ii., 14
Associations, Catholic, their History,
i., .359
Attorney and Barrister, different Status
of, i., 28
Attorneys, how admitted to the Bar,
i.. 29

Author's Introduction, i., 17
Avocat, a French, i., 195
Avonmore, Lord (Barry Yelverton), No
tice of, i., 25 ; Friendship for Curran,
303
Ball, the Dublin Tabinet. i., 328
Bar, Calamities of the, i., 186
 Costume in Ireland, ii., 107
 Catholics excluded fiom the, ii.,90
 License of the, i., 277
 American compared with the Eng
lish and Irish, i., 272
 Catholic, ii., 75
 French, i., 194
 Irish, i., 62 ; Qualifications for
65; Discipline for, 66; Independence
of, 68
 Precedence at the, ii., 98; Train
ing for the, 156
Bar-Mess, Mock Trials before, i., 27
Bar Travelling, Etiquette of, i., 21
Barrington, Sir Jonah, Notice of, i.
247 ; at Dublin Election, 270 ; Scene
with Lord Norbury, ii., 7
Barrister and Attorney, different Status
of, i., 28
Ban-ister,Confessionsofa.Tunior, ii.,154
Barristers, Irish, Term Dinners iu Lon
don, ii., 156
Barry, Sir Charles, Architect, i., 254
Beaconsiield, Goold's Visit to, i., 242
Beauty, Irish, at Tabinet Ball, i., 331
Bedford, Duke of, Irish Viceroy, i., 159
Bell, Jocky, Notice of, ii., 350
Bellamy's, i,, 158; Scene at, ii., 251
Bellew, Sir Edward, ii., 92
Bellew, William, Catholic Barrister, ii.,
92 ; Admission, 93 ; Demeanor, 94 ;
extensive Practice, 96 ; Pension, 98 ;
Religious Profession and Practice,
104 ; Scene in the Eolls Court with.
105 ; Promotion, 354

368

INDEX.

Beresfords, the, i,, 242
Best, Chief-Justice (Lord Wynford),
i., 278
Bethel, Counsellor ' of the Half-Crown,'
ii., 113
Bexlpy, Lord, Notice of, ii., 3-52
Bianconi, Charles, his Mode of Travel
ling, i., 287
Bible-Teaching, O'Connell on, i., 223
Blackburne, Lord-Chancellor, an Anti-
Catholic, ii., 120; his Demeanor,
126 ; his early Anti-Curran Manifes
tation, 128 ; Progress at the Bar, 129 ;
Sits as Judge under the InsuiTection
Act, 130 ; his Promotions, 133
Blake, Anthony Richard, i., 79 ; a Cath
olio Privy Councillor, ii., 78; Edu
cation Commissioner, 260
Blarney- Stone, the, i., 63
Bloomfield, Lord, Notice of, i., 388
Bolster*s Magazine of Ireland, i., 12
Bottle-Riot, the, i., 266 ; Trial for, 279
Boulter, Primate, i., 360 ; ii., 88
Brady, Maziere, Lord-Ghoncellor of
Ireland, ii., 134
Bridge of Wexford, Massacre on the,
i., 297
3rinkley, Bishop, the Astronomer, i.,
330
Bristol, Earl of (Bishop of Derry), No
tice of, i., 234 ; Anecdote of, 386
Bristol, Marquis of, ii., 348
Bristol, Refonn Riots in, ii., 210
Brougham, Heniy, entraps Peel, ii., 34;
his Chancery Reform, 97 ; Memoii
of, 208; his Person, 209; his Elo
quence, 210; Reply to Peel, 214;
Dinner to Catholic Deputation, 216;
his Conversation, 217; his Levee as
Lord-Chancellor, 339 ; his Promo
tion, 343; Residence, Costume, and
Visitors, 344 ^
Brummell, and the Duke of Leinster,
i., 344
Brunswick Clubs, ii., 315
Buckland, Dr., Oxford Professor, ii.,
341
Buggins, Lady Cecilia (Duchess of In
verness), ii., 219
Bulls, Irish {vide Sir Boyle Roche),
ii., 10; Rationale of, 11
Bulwer, Sir E. Lytton, Satire on Sir
J. Scariett, ii., 37
Burdett, Sir Francis, Notice of, ii., 203 ;
his Attire, 205
Burke, Edmund, Memoir of, i, 238

BuiTOwes, Peter — his Absence of Mind,
i., 127 ; as an Advocate, 127 ; Notice
of, ii., 124 ; Plunket's Character of,
125
Burton, Judge, Notice of, i., 273; at
Clonmel Assizes, ii., 137
Bushe, Chief-Justice, Sketch op,
i., 121; Descent, 122; Early Elo
quence, 123; nn Anti- Union ist, 128;
Promotion, 132; as an Orator, 133;
Conversation and Eloquence, 135;
Brougham's high Opinion of, 143;
his Wit, 144
 Memoir of, i., 146; Elevation to
the Bench, 149; redeems his Fam
ily Estate, 299 ; at Wexford Assizes,
299; reforms Abuses on Circuit, 302;
pleads against Catholic Committee,
377; Epigi-amsby, ii.,213
Butler, Charles, ii., 91 ; Memoii of, 197
Butler, Mr- Augustine, at Clare Elec
tion, ii., 279
¦Butler, Sir Theobald, ii., 79; Capitu
lation and Treaty of Limerick, 80;
pleads in Parliament against its Vio
lation, 82 ; Argument against the Pe
nal Code, 83 ; Death, Character, and
Epitaph, 87
Byron, Lady, ii., 348
Byron, Lord, Opinion of Sheridan, i.,
138 ; Monody on Sheridan, 139; on
Reversal of Lord B. Fitzgerald's At
tainder, 345 ; on Royal Visit, 379 ; on
Mrs. Wilmot Horton, ii., 103 ; Opin
ion of Cun'an, 127; on Lord Angle
sey, 256
Calamities OF the Bar, i.,186 : Scene
in Chancei-y, 190 ; Life of an Emi
nent Lawyer, 196 ; Henry MacDou-
gall, 200 ; Pomposo, 203 ; Lord Avon-
more and the Monks of the Screw,
200 ; Norcott, the Renegade, Story
of, 210
Callaghan, Daniel and Gerald, ii., 76
Callanan, Jeremiah, Irish Poet, i., 13
Calvin, John, burns Servetus, i., 167
Camden, Lord-Chancellor, Notice of,
i., 104 ; his Independence, ii., 112
Camden, Marquis, a Model Sinecmist,
ii., 329
Campbell, Lord, Plunket's bon-mot up
on, i., 117 ; his Irish Chancellorship,
119 ; as Chief-Justice, ii., 340
Campbell, Thomas, the Poet, i., 12
Canning, George, his Career, i., 322
Canterbury, Archbishop of, ii., 344

INDEX.

369

Canterbui'y, Viscount (see Manners Sut
ton)
Carding in Tipperai'y, i., 71
Carleton, Lord Chief-Justice, ii., 19
Oai'nai'von, Earl of, ii., 346
Caroline, Queen, her Counsel, i., 264 ;
Bribed Witnesses at her Trial, ii., 35
Carroll, Father, of Wexford, Trial of,
i., 304
Castle, the, i., 160
'Castlereagh, Lord (Marquis of London
derry), Notice of, i., 131 ; how he
carried the Union, 248
Catherine, Queen, Trial of, i., 91
CathoHc Aristocracy, their Support of
the Union, ii., 98
 Association founded, i., 379
 Bar, ii., 76 ; Sir Theobald Butler
and the Treaty of Limerick, 79; Cath
olics excluded from the Bar, 90 ; ad
mitted, 91; Bellew, 93; Union ob
tained on False Pretences, 98 ; Scene
in Court, 105
 Board, the, i., 133
 Deputation, ii., 192 ; Visit to Dr.
Milner, 195 ; arrive in London, 202 ;
attend Debate in House of Commons.
207; Dinner at Brougham's, 216;
Public Meeting in London, 220; Din
ner at Norfolk House, 224
 Emancipation, opposed by George
m., and supported by his Ministers,
i., 367 ; carried by Wellington, ii., 266
 Leaders and Associations, i.,
359;Penal Laws, 361; Keogh'sLead-
ership, 363 ; Denis Scully, 370; O'
Connell, 372 ; Royal Visit, 377 ; Cath
olic Association founded, 379 ; sup
ported by the Catholic Priesthood
and Aristocracy, 381
 Irish, Existence of acknowledged,
i., 362
¦  Magistrates, ii., 178
 Meetings, i., 281, and ii., 220
 Politics in 1825,' ii., 192
 Belief Bill, ii., 302
Cazales, Opinion of Burke, i., 238
Chadwick, Mr., Murder of, ii., 42
Chambers, Sir William, i., 330
Chancery, Court of, ii., 96 ; Delays in,
97 ; Refo™ of 97
Chantrey, Sir Francis, Sculptor, i., 332 ;
Charlemont, Earl of, bi-ings Plunket
into Irish Parliament, i., 99
Chesterfield,Earl of.Irish Viceroy, ii.,88
Oheyne, Dr. John, Notice of, i., 198

Chiefs, on the Bench, i., 176
China, Embassies to, i., 183
Circuit Abuses, Reform of, i., 302
Circuit, the. North Wales, i., 26 ; Mun
ster, 35 ; Leinster, 287
Circuit, Mock-Trials on, i., 27
Circuits, the Law, i., 19
Clanricarde, Marquis of, ii., 352
Clare Election, ii., 265 ; Vesey Fitz.
gerald opposed, 266 ; O'Connell takes
the Field, 270; Nominarion, 287 ;
Candidates' Speeches, -£89 ; Inci
dents in the Election, 295; O'Con
nell elected, 302
Clare, Lord-Chancellor, Notice of, i.,
67 ; his Flippancy, 228
Clerk, Lord Eldin, Anecdote of, i., 188
Clergy, Catholic and Protestant, i., 308
Clive, Lord, Royal Gift to, i., 153
Clogher, deposed Bishop of, i., 290
Cloncun'y, Lord, Notice of, i., 147 ;
suspected of Disaffection, ii., 15
Clonmel. Lord, Notice of, i., 151
Clonmel Assizes, ii., 41 : Murder of
Mr. Chadwick, 42 ; Murder of Dan
iel Mara, 47 ; Earl of Kingston, 48 ;
an Approver, 54; the Keoghs, 61;
Crime in Tipperary, 66 ; Arthur
Young on Whiteboyism, 67 ; the Pe
nal Code, 69 ; Policy of Concilia
tion, 74
Cobbett, John Morgan, ii., 319
Cobbett, William, sued and cast by
Plunket, i., 102; his History of the
Protestant Reformation, ii., 198 ; his
Career, 319 ; at Penenden Heath,
320; Resemblance to Sir Walter
Scott, 321
Cockle, Mr. Sergeant, his Half-Fee,
ii., 114
Coif, Dignity of the, i., 174
Coke, T. W., of Norfolk (Earl of Lei
cester), ii., 221
Colclough, Caasar, Epigram on, ii., 214
" Collegians, The," Origin of, i., 42
CoUes, Surgeon, Notice of, i., 198
Colonels, the Three, O'Connell's Epi
gram on, i., 257
Combermere, Lord, consulted by Lord
Norbury, ii., 37
Comical Miscreant,"Cobbett so called
by O'Connell, i., 284
Commons, Irish House of, i., 130
Commons, Nobility in the, ii., 251
Compensarion to Irish Boroughmon-
gers, i., 249

16*

370

INDEX.

Confederation, the Irish, i., 11
Confessions of a Junior Baiiristeb,
ii., 155 : Training for the Bar, 156 ;
Speech at Aggregate Meeting, 158 ;
a Lawyer in Love, 162 ; a Double
Confidant, 165 ; the Gain of Godli
ness, 166 ; hope deferred, 167 ; dan
cing into Practice, 170
, Connaught, serving Writs in, i., 70
Conyngham, Marchioness of, a Royal
Favorite, i., 378
Cooper, C. P., of Chanceiy Bar, edits
Brougham's Judgments, ii., 345
Copley, Sir John (see Lord Lyndhurst)
County Judges, Irish, ii., 100
" Cork Mercantile Chronicle," i., 12
Cork-screw, Sheil and the, i., 13
Cornwallis, Lord, ii., 98
Corporation of Dublin and Lord Man
ners, ii., 181
Coulin, Singing of the, i., 296
Counsel for Prisoners, ii., 51
Counsellor, Title of, i., 29
Court, Inns of, i., 28
Coutts, Thomas, his Wealth, ii., 203
Crampton, Judge, Notice of, i., 314
Crampton, Sir Philip, ii., 26
Cranworth, Lord-Chancellor, an Anti-
Law-Reformer, ii., 97
Cove of Cork, Name changed, i., 22
C owley, Curran's happy Quotation from ,
i., 303
Croker, John Wilson, i., 213
Croly, satirizes " The Tenth" in a Com
edy, i., 355
Crotty, Dr., Pres. of Maynooth, i., 383
Cronan, Larry, Trial of, i., 33
Cumberland, Duke of (King of Hano
ver), Grand-Master of the Orange
men, i., 290 ; heads the Brunswick
ers, ii., 315
Curran, John Philpot, Anecdotes of, i.,
63 ; Varied Powers 67 ; Defence of
the Sheareses, 99; his Opinion of
Charles PhiUips, 124 ; Description
of Lord Downes, 177 ; with Monks
of the Screw, 207 ; with Lord Avo.n-
moi'e and a Dublin Jui'y, 275 ; Rec
onciliation with Loi'd Avonmore, 303;
his Irish Grave, 354 ; bon-mot on Lord
Norbury, ii., 7 ; his Career, 127 ; de
scribed by Byron and Phillips, 128 ;
Description of Peel, 211; his Con
versation, 216
Curran, William Henry, writes his Fa
ther's Life, ii., 12?

Curtis, Archbisliop, Notice of, ii., 386 ,
Correspondence with the Duke of
Wellington, 388
Cutting and Maiming, Ellenborough's
Act against, i. 34
Darnley, Earl of, ii., 317
Dawson, Alexander, at Louth Election,
ii., 235
Dawson, George Robert, ii., 32
Day, Judge, at Killarney, i., 301
Denman, Lord Chief-Justice, his Inde
pendence, ii., 112; his Career, 253
Derangement of the Mind, Dr. Cheyne
on, i., 199
Derry, Bishop of (Earl of Bristol), i.,
234
D'Esterre, Duel with O'Connell, i., 76
D'Este, Sir Augustus, ii., 219
D'Este, Mademoiselle, now Lady Tru
ro, ii.,219
" Devil," the Judge's, i., 228
Devonshire, Duke of, ii., 217
Devonshire, Georgiana, Duchess of,
ii., 327
Dickens, Charles, Original of his Ed
itor Pott, ii., 258
Dinner-Bell, the soubriquet of Edmund
Burke, i., 239
Disraeli, Benjamin, his Character of
J. W. Croker, i., 214
Dock, Irish Criminal, i., 31
Doctors of Civil Law, Practice of, i.,
174
DoHERTT, Chief-Justice, the late, i., 311;
Promotion, 313 ; Parliamentary Con
test with O'Connell, 325 ; made Chief
Justice, 325 ; Official Qualifications,
326 ; prosecutes the Murderers of
Daniel Mara, ii., 47 ; his Promotion
resisted by Lord Manners, 181
Doneraile Conspiracy, i., 325
Donoughmore, Earls of, i., 371
Donnybrook Fair, Decline and Fall of,
i., 23
Downes, Lord, i., 176 ; described by
Curran, 177 ; Vice-Chancellor of
Trinity College, 290
Downing Street, London — locale of
Government Offices, i., 254
Doyle, Doctor, Bishop of Kildare and
Leighlin, i., 318 ; joins Catholic As
sociation, 381 ; Memoir of, 382
Doyle, Sir John, Anecdotes of, i., 123
Drumgoole, Doctor, a Catholic Leader,
i., 374
Dublin Oastle, i., 160

INDEX.

371

Dublin Election, in 1803, i., 270 ; in
1831, ii., 357
" Dublin Evening Mail," ii., 176
" Dublin Evening Post," i. 354 ; pros
ecuted by Government, 372
Dublin, Four Courts in i,, 58
Dublin, State of Parties in, ii., 354
Dublin Tabine't Ball, i., 328; Ori
gin of, 329 ; Beauty at, 331 ; Lord
and Lady Wellesley at, 335 ; Sir Har
court Lees at, 340 ; Duke and Duch
ess of Leinster at, 350 ; the Younger
Grattan at, 352 ; Officers of " The
Tenth" at, 355 ; Miss O'Connell at,
357
Dubhn Theatre, " Bottle Riot," i., 266,
279
^' Dublin University Magazine' ' on Plun
ket and Emmett, i., 103
"Dublin Warder," i., 340
"Dubhn Weekly Register," ii., 118
Dudley, Sir Henry Bate, i., 294
Duelling in Dublin, i., 69 ; at the Bar,
153 ; Lord Norbury's, ii., 6 ; Extinc
tion of, 268
Duffy, Mr., Editor of "The Nation,"
ii., 118
Duigenan, Dr., Notice of, i., 78
Dumferline, Lord (see Abercrombie).
Dunleary, Name changed to Kingston,
i., 80
Durham, Earl of, ii., 218
Dying Declarations of Criminals, i., 55
Edgeworth, Miss, the Irish Novelist,
i., 91
"Edinburgh Review," Macaulay a Con
tributor to, i., 213 ; how founded,
ii., 346
Education in Ireland, i., 221 ; too pros
elyting, 223
Eldin, Lord, Anecdote of, i., 188
Eldon, Lord, his Career, i., 104 ; An
ecdote of, 188 ; his Chancery De
lays, ii., 97
Elections, Duration of, ii., 293
Elective Franchise granted to the Cath
olics, i., 368
EUenborough, Lord, his Act, i,, 34;
Partisanship on Hone's Trial, ii., 112
Ellis, Master in Chancery, M. P. for
Dublin, i., 261 : how elected, 352
Eloquence, Character of O'Connell's,
i., 221
Elrington, Bishop, i., 287 ; suppresses
the Historical Society, and denoun
ces Books of Necromancy, 290

Embassies to China, Cost of, i., 183
Emmett, Robert, Trial and Defence of,
i., 100 ; Plunket's Speech against,
101 ; Reproof to Lord Norbury, ii., 15
Emmett, Temple, his brief Career, i.,
100
Emmett, Thomas Addis, Notice of, i.,
100
England and Ireland compared, ii., 200
England, Bishop, ii., 213
English Judicature, i., 174
BngUsh Law in Ireland, i., 58
Equity Judges, ii., 97
Errol, Eari of, ii., 347
Erskine, Lord-Chancellor, i., 139
Esmonde, Sir Thomas, ii., 196
Ex-Chancellors, hear Appeals as Law-
Lords, 1., 175
Executions in Ireland, i,, 53
Falstaff, a Legal (Bumbo Green), ii.,
109
Farnham, Lord, ii., 351
Fauntleroy, Heni-y, Doubts of his Exe
cution, i., 57
Fees, Lawyers', i., 19; Anecdotes of,
ii., 114
Fermoy, Magistrates at, ii., 178
" Fighting Fitzgerald," ii., 6
Fingal, Eari of, i., 373 ; Notice of, ii.,
102 ; Chairman of Aggregate Meet
ing, 158
Fitzgerald, the Approver, ii., 54
Fitzgerald, Lord Edward, i., 344 ; Me
moir of, 345
Fitzgerald, Sir Augustus, ii., 289
Fitzgerald, Prime Sergeant, his Nation
ality and Death, ii., 290
Fitzgerald, W. Vesey (Lord Fitzgerald
and Vesci), opposed at Clare Elec
tion, ii., 266 ; Notice of, 271 ; Hust
ings Speech at Clare, 290 ; Defeat,
302
Fitzgibbon (Earl of Clare), Notice of,
i., 67
Fitzgibbon, Mr., and the SmaU Fee,
ii., 114
Fitzherbert, Mrs., and George IV., ii.,
35
Fitzpatrick, General, on Burke, i., 239
Fitzwilliam, Earl, Notice of, i., 240 ; at
Norfolk House, ii., 226
Fletcher, Mr. Justice, ii., 29 ; his angry
Vibrations, 30
Flood, Sir Frederick, ii., 7
Flood, Henry, in the British Parlia
ment, i., 113

372

INDEX.

Follet, Sir WiUiam, on Lawyers' Prac
tice, i., 188
Foote, Maria, Marriage with the Earl
of Harrington, i., 350
Foreign Titles held by British Subjects,
i., 331
Fortescue, Mr., Defeat of, at Louth,
248
Foster, John Leslie, at Louth Elec
tion, ii., 236 ; the Nomination, 241 ;
in Parliament, 250 ; Incidents of his
Life, 254 ; his Appointments, 260 ;
On Education Inquiry, 260 ; Counsel
, to Customs and Excise, a Job, 264
Four Courts, Dublin, i., 18, and 58
Fox, Chai'les James, Death of, i., 323 ;
his Career, ii., 228
Francis, Sir Philip, on Burke's Pen
sion, i., 239
Freeman, Henry Deane, Assistant Bar
rister, ii., 100
Freemasons' Hall, Catholic Meeting in,
ii., 220
Free Trade, Peel's System of, ii., 215
French Bar, the, i., 194
French, Counsellor, ii., 323
French, Lord, Desci-iption of, i., 373
Fuller, Jack, a Parliamentary Joker,
ii., 7
Gallantly, Criminal, i., 40
George lIL, his Present to Lord Clive,
i., 153 ; opposes Catholic Emancipa
tion, i., 367
George IV., Visit to Ireland, i., 18 ;
retains Anti-Catholic Ministers, 371 ;
Reception in Ireland, 377 ; Byron's
Satire upon, 379
Geraldines, Heir of the, i., 343
German Prince, Tour of a, ii., 291
Gifford, John, denounced by Grattan,
i., 270
Gladstone, William Ewart, at Oxford,
ii., 193
Glascot, Toby, an Election Candidate,
ii., 263
" Glorious, pious, and immortal Mem-
oiy," ii., 132
Godwin, William, Notice of, ii., 122
Goldsmith, Oliver, his Description of
Burke, i., 239
Goold, Mr. Sergeant, Sketch of, an
Admirable Crichton, i., 232 ; his Ex
travagance, 233 ; goes to the Bar, 235;
his Advancement, 242 ; Nisi-Prius
Practice, 242 ; his inordinate Vanity,
243 ; Influence with Juries, 244 ;

charged with Prevarication before
Limerick Election Committee, 250;
defended by Grattan, 251
Gordon, Duchess of, i., 212
Gore, Mr., the CromweUian, ii, 291
Goulburn, Henry, Notice of, i., 95 ; de
fends Saurin's Letter, ii., 36
Gorman, William, and "The Burning
of the Sheas," ii., 138
Gormanstown, Lord, joins the Catholic
Association, i., 380 ; Notice of, ii,,
102
Grace, Patrick, Trial of, ii., 44
Grady, Hai-ry Deane, i., 26 ; his Jury-
Eye, 141 ; his Cross-Examination,
ii., 22
Grattan, Henry, Notice of, i., 114;
Moore's Lines on, 115 ; his Opinion
of Burkcj 238 ; of Goold's Integrity,
251; his later Unpopularity, 270;
last Public Appearance, 282 ; Burial-
place, 354 ; his Conversarion,ii.,216
Grattan, Henry junior, i., 352 ; at Tab
inet BaU, 355
Green, Bumbo, ii., 108
Gregory, Dr. Tighe, ii., 183
Gregory, Under Secretary, ii., 36 ; out
of Office, 356
Grenville, Lord, and Catholic Emanci
pation, i., 367
Grey, Eari, INlemoir of, ii., 227; his
Aristocratic Pride, 229
Grey, List, the, ii., 227
Griffin, Gerald, Irish Novelist, Origin
of his " Collegians," i., 42; his Omis
sions, ii., 365
Grimaldi, Joseph, the Pantoraimist, ii.,
32
Guillamore, Viscount (see CGrady).
Gurney, Sir John, " the Hanging-
.ludge," ii., 340
Hamilton, Gerard, Opinion of Burke
i., 238 .
Hanlon, EUen, Murder of, i., 42
" Hannibals, the Father of the," i., 102
Hai'dwicke, Lord-Chancellor, i., 104;
Notice of, 317
Hardwicke, Earl of, his Viceroyalty,
i., 370
Harlowe, G. H., the Painter, Notice
of, i., 91
Harrington, Dowager-Countess of (Ma^
ria Foote, the Actress), i., 350
Harrington, Earls of, i., 350
Hart, Sir Anthony, Chancellor of Ire
land, ii., 174 ; on the Bench, 359

INDEX.

373

Harty, Sir Robert, Lord-Mayor of Dub
lin, ii., 357
Hatherton, Lady, Beauty of, i., 332
Harvey, Bagenal, Execution of, i., 192
Henchy, Peter Fitzgibbon, ii., 131
Hertford, Lady, her " Fatal Witchery"
of George IV., i., 371
Hervey, Lord, Pope's Satire on, i., 234
Hessians, the, in Ireland, i., 155
HiU, Sir George, and Wolfe Tone, ii.,
31
Hincks, Francis, his Education, ii., 48
Historical Society, Dublin, i., 123 ;
Bushe's Speech in, 124 ; School of
Oratory, 253 ; suppressed by Provost
Elrington-, 290
Hogan, Matthew, Mr. Sheil's Speech
on, ii., 150
Hohenloe, Prince, reputed Miracles by,
i., 310
Holmes, Robert, Father of the Irish
Bar, i., 313
Holycross, Abbey of, ii., 44
Honors, English, held by Irish Peers,
i., 159
Hope, Mr., and Lord Norbury, i., 170
Hope, Thomas, Author of " Anasta-
tius," i., 211
Horton, Sir Robert, Wilmot, ii., 104
Huguenots in Ireland, i., 167
Hume, .loseph. Notice of, ii., 217
Hunt, Henry, Notice of, ii., 322
Hussey, Peter Bodkin, a Catholic Lead
er, i., 376
Hutchinson, Provost, and his Family,
i., 371
Informers, Curran on, i., 24
Inglis, Sir Robert Harry, his Intoler
ance, ii., 193
Innoshowen, why so called, i., 70
Inns of Court, i., 28
Ireland, Education in, i., 221
 South of, i., 20
 Travelling in, i., 21
•¦  Young," i., 369
Irish Bar, Independence of, i., 68 ; Fa
ther of the, 313
"Irish Blackguard," Origin of, i., 308
Irish Circuit, an, i., 19
 Confederation formed, i., 11
 Deputies, Napoleon on, ii., 206
 Judges, Character of, ii., 112
 Judicature, i., 174
 Peers, in the British Parliament,
i., 159
— — Roads, ii., 181

Irish Sabbath, i., 290
 Volunteers, i., 363
.1. K. L., Signature of Dr. Doyle, i., 318
Jackson, Devonshire, an Irish Judge,
ii., 76
Jackson, Rev. William, his Death, ana
Refusal to escape, ii., 235
Jail-Delivery, i., 33
Jeffrey, Lord, Notice of, ii., 346
Jesuits and Lord Manners, ii., 187
Jocelyn, Percy, Deposed Bishop of
Clogher, i., 290
Jocelyn, Viscount, ii., 237
Johnson, Dr., Opinion of Burke, i., 238
Johnston (" Bitter Bob") and Plunket,
i., 113
Johnson, Judge Robert, convicted of
Libel, i., 303
Johnson, Mr. Justice William, at Wex-'
ford Assizes, i., 299 ; Antipathy to
Lord Norbury, ii., 30
Jones, John Gale, Notice of, ii., 156
Joy, Chief-Baron, i., 170 : his Tory
Politics, 173 ; Promotion as Solicitor-
General, 179; Legal Ability, 180;
Scientific Pursuits, 181; as. Chief-
Baron, 185
 Memoir of, i., 170
 Valedictory to Lord Manners, ii.
157
Judges, Equity, Number of, ii., £7
Judges' Salaries, Pensions, and Life-
Appointments, i., 175, and ii.. Ill
Partisanship in Ireland, 112
Judge's " Devil," i., 228
Judicature in Great Britain and Ii'e
land. i., 174; System of, ii.. Ill
Jury, Curran and a Dublin, i., 274
" Juverna," Letters of, by Judge R.
Johnson ; prosecuted as libellous, 303
KeUer, Jeny, i., 207 ; Bonrmots, 208
Kenmare, .Lord, i., 380 ; Notice of,
ii., 102
Kenny, Rev. Mr., Provincial of the Jes
uits, ii., 262
Kent, Chancellor, and Thomas Addis
Emmett, i-., 100
Kent County Meeting, ii., 315
Kentish Men, ii., 316
" Kent, Men of," ii., 316
Keogh, John, a Catholic Leader, i.,
363 ; his Career, 366 ; opposed by
O'Connell, 368
Keoghs, Trial of the, ii., 61
Kildare Street Association, i., 220;
Meetings, 223

374

INDBX.

KiUarney, Lakes of, i., 301
Killeen, Lord, a Catholic Leader, i.,
380 ; Notice of, ii., 102
Kilmurry, the Seat of Charles Kendal
Bushe, i., 300
Kilwarden, Lord, killed by Mistake for
Lord Carleton, ii., 19
King, Sir Abraham Bradley, ii., 183
King, Dr. William, Archbishop of Dub
lin, ii., 77
King's Counsel, Privileges of, i., 320 ;
Partisanship in appointing, i., 321
Kingsborough, Viscount, his *' Antiqui
ties of Mexico," ii., 49
Kingston, Earl of, ii., 48
Kirwan, Mr., Prosecution of, i, 377
KnatchbuU, Sir Edward, ii., 335
Ko-tou, Chinese Ceremony of, i., 183
Lacy, Patrick, Trial of, ii., 47
Ladies in Court, i., 40
Latouche, J. D., Bankerin Dublin, i., 94
Law-Lords in Pariiament, i., 175
Law Reforms, by Peel, i., 327 ; by
Brough'dm, ii., 97
Lawless, " Honest Jack," ii., 276
Laws, Penal, extended, i., 361 ; re
laxed, 362
Lawyer, Life of an Eminent, i,, 196;
a Saintly, 217 ; a Perfect, 311 ; in
Love, ii., 162
Lawyers, the Yelverton, i., 205
Leaders, Catholic, Sketch of, i., 359
Lees, Sir Harcourt, Memoir of, i., 340 ;
his Person and Attire, 341 ; at the
Tabinet Ball, 342
Lefroy, Chief-Justice, i., 216: a
Saintly Lawyer, 217 ; Kildare-Street
Meetings, 223 ; in Court of Chance
ry, 226 ; Merit as an Advocate, 227 ;
his Promotion, 229
Legal Cavalcade, i., 27
Leicester. Earl of (Thomas W. Coke),
ii., 211
Leinster Circuit, i., 287 ; Bushe's At-
* tachment to, 301
Leinster, Duchess of, i., 350
Leinster, Duke of. Notice of, i., 343 ;
Want of Nationality, 347 ; his Pur
suits, 349
Ijcinster, Mount, in ^Vexford, i,, 295
Leopold, Prince, a Serene Highness,
ii., 27
Lethbridge, Sir Thomas, ii., 262
" L'Etoile," a Parisian Journal, Mr.
Sheil's Contributions to, ii., 83
Liberators, Order of, ii., 286

License of the Bar, i., 277
Life-Appointment of Judges, i., 175
Liffey, a Dip in the, i., 63
Limerick Assizes, i., 51 ; Special Com
mission, 229
Limerick, Treaty of, ii., 80 ; British
Violation of, 81
Listen, John, the Comedian, i., 343
Liverpool, Earl of, an Incompetent
Prime Minister, i., 322; opposes
Emancipation, ii., 206
Locke, John, his Treatise on Govern
ment excluded from Dublin Univer
sity Course, i., 254
Londonderry,Marquis of (Castlereagh),
i., 131
Long Orchard, the Burial-place of Mr.
Sheil, i., 11
Lord-Chancellor's Salary and Pension,
i., 175
Lords, House of, highest Court of Ju
dicature, i., 175
Louth Election in 1826, ii., 236
Lundifoot, the Dublin Tobacconist, i,,
308
Lyndhurst, Lord-Chancellor, ii., 340
Macartney, Lord, his Embassy to China,
i., 183
M'Cleary, David, ii., 183
M'Cleland, Judge, Forbearance on Em
mett's Trial, i., 103
M'Coi'mick, Toby, and Lord Norbury,
ii., 25
MacDonnell, ^neas, conducts a Cath
olic Journal, i., 370 ; Account of,
ii., 202
MacDonald, Sir A., Use of Epithets in
Pailiament, ii., 292
" MacDougaU of the Roar," i., 200
M'Dowall's Statue of Sir M. O'Logh
lin, ii., 116
M'Kenny, Sir Thomas, presides at the
Dublin Catholic Meeting, i., 281
Mackenzie, Dr. Shelton, Memoir of
Sheil by, i., 5 ; Notes by, passim.
Mackintosh, Sir James, on Plunket,
i.. Ill
M'Mahon, Mr., a Pauper Barrister,
i., 91
MacMahon, Sir WiUiam, Master of the
Rolls, ii., 105 ; Dispute with Sir An
thony Hart, ii,, 358
M'Nam;ua, Major, ii., 267 ; his Char
acter, 268
MacNally, Leonai'd, and his Book, ii.,
295

INDEX.

375

Magee, John, Editor of the " Dublin
Evening Post," i., 372
Magee, Dr. William, Archbishop of
Dublin, i., 288; oiliciates at Lord
Wellesley's Marriage, 335; compared
with Archbishop King, ii., 77
Magrath, Counsellor, great LeJigth of,
i., 155 ; Moore's Question to, 156
Maguire, Rev. Thomas, ii., 277 ; Me
moir of, 278 ; at Clare Election,
279
Mahon, O'Gorman, ii,, 269 ; Notice of,
274; wears the Order of Liberators'
Sash and Medal, 285 ; proposes O'
Connell at Clare, 289
Mahony, Darby, and Lord Norburj',
ii., 17
Manners, Lord, his Family Connec
tions, i., 191 ; Judicial Inefficiency,
315 ; Partisanship, 320 ; retires from
Office, ii. 5
 Sketch of, ii., 172
 Takes Leave of Insh Bar, 172
 Joy's Valedictoi-y to, 175
 Sheil's Opinion of, 177
Manners Testimonial, ii., 185
Mam Family, the Conspiracy against,
ii., 46
Mara, Daniel, Trial of his Murderers,
ii., 47
Mara, Philip, Witness on a Murder-
Trial ii., 44
Marriage out of the Dock, i., 41
Man-iages, Catholic, ii., 95
Martin, of Connemara, i., 166 ; his Suc
cessors, 166
Martin, Mrs. Bell, her Death in New
York, i., 166
Martin, Richard, of the English and
Irish Bar, ii., 100
Maturin, his Opinion of Mrs. Siddons,
ii., 218
Mayne, Judge, and Jerry Keller, i. , 208 ;
his imposing Gravity, ii., 27
Maynooth, College of, i., 221
Meagher, Thomas Francis, i., 369
Mellon, Harriet, her Husbands and
Wealth, ii., 203
" Member for all Ireland," i., 257
Messiah of Royalty, Byron's, i., 379
Metropolitan Magazine, i., 14; Sketch
es from, ii., 340 and 354
Milbanke, Sir John Peneston, ii., 348
Milboume-Port, Borough of, represent
ed by Mr. North and Mr. Sheil, i.,
255

Mills, Harry, at Louth Election, ii., 243
Milner, Bishop, Visit to, ii., 195
Mind, Dr. Cheyno on Derangement of
the, i., 199
•Mitchel, John, Irish Patriot, i., 369;
Editor of " The United Lishman,"
ii., 118
Monks of the Screw, their Charter-
Song, i., 206
Monomania, Father Carroll's, i., 305 ;
fatal Effects of, 307
Monster Meetings, ii., 280
Moore, George Ogle, a Candidate at
Dublin, ii., 357
Moore, Judge, ii., 31 ; at Clonmel As
sizes, 48 ; his Character, 123
Moore, Thomas, on Captain Rock, i.,
39; on Sheridan, 138; on Richard
Martin, 166 ; his Birth, 208 ; on Spen
cer Perceval, 289 ; where born, 296 ;
on Duke of York, ii., 207 ; on Lord
Anglesey, 250 ; on Wellington, 308
Mopgan, Lady, i., 351
" Morning Chronicle,"' London News
paper, i., 39
Mornington, Countess of. Mother of
four Peers, i., 336
Mornington, Earl of, i., 95
Mountain-Dew, i., 70
Mountain-Peasantry in Court, i., 30
Murder on the Shannon, i., 42
Munster Circuit, i., 35
Murphv, Father, of Corofin, ii., 281 ; his
Speech in Irish, 282 ; his Vigilance,
302
Murray, Dr., Aixhbishop of Dublin,
i., 387
Murray, Lady Augusta, ii., 219
Muskau, Prince Puckler, on O'Con
nell, ii., 291
Napoleon on Chinese Embassy, i., 183 ;
retains Napper Tandy, ii., 9 ; Opin
ion of Irish Deputies, 206
" Nation, The," Dublin Repeal Jour
nal, ii., 118
National Debt, how increased, i., 240
National Education in Ireland, i., 221
" New Monthly Magazine," i., 12
Nisi-Prius Practice, i., 29
Nobility in House of Commons, ii., 251
Norbury, Lord, Sketch of, ii., 5 : —
called to the Bar, 7 ; fights his Way
on, 9 ; as Solicitor-Genera], 13 ; Cni-
eltyin the Sheareses Case, 14; Harsh
ness to Robert Emmett, 15 ; Judicial
Brutality, 17 ; Buffo Scenes in his

376

INDEX.

Court, 21; his Jests, 26; violent As
cendency Politics ; the Saurin Letter,
33 ; Negotiations for Resignation,
36 ; Consulting a Friend in India,
37 ; his Library, 39
Norcott, the Barrister, turns Moham
medan, i., 214 ; his Fate, 215
Norfolk, Duke of, ii., 220
Norfolk House, Dinner at, ii.,224
North, John H., Admiralty Judge,
Sketch of, i., 252 : his Career, 252 ;
Bar Progress, 256 ; comparative Fail
ure as a Senator, 261-; his Exterior,
262 ; Political Neutrality, 263 ; Dub
lin Theatre " Bottle Riot," 266 ; at
Louth Election, ii., 241
Norton, Sir Fletcher, Abuse of, ii., 292
Nugent, Lord, satirized by Canning, ii.,
208 ; Notice of, 352
O'Brien, Sir Edward, at Glare Elec
tion, ii., 280
O'Brien, William Smith, Memoir of,
ii., 287 ; his Penal Exile, 288
O'Connell, Daniel, his Success with
Juries, i., 35 ; Sketch of, i., 73 ; his
Versatihty, 74 ; Memoir of, 75 ; his
Property, 77; Merits as a Lawyer,
78; a "Tribune of the Pjsojile, 81;
Demeanor in Court, 82 ; Defence
of Criminals, 86 ; Duel with D'Es
terre, 89 ; after Clare Election, 90 ;
On Circuit, and as a Public Speaker,
93 ; in Pariiament, 94 — and before
the Privy Council, 95
 Patent of Precedency to, i., 174
 At Kildare-Street Meeting, 223
 Versatility as a Speaker, 257 ;
Entrance into Wexford, 297 ; Par
liamentary Contest, Mr. Doherty,
325 ; Entrance into Public Life, 368 ;
his Struggles, " within the Law,",
for Emancipation and Repeal, 369 ;
on the King's Visit, drinks the Or
ange Charter Toast, 378 ; founds the
Catholic Association, 379 ; his Man
ner of Speaking in Public, 381 ; his
Costume al the Assizes, ii., 107
 At Aggregate Meeting, ii., 159
 En Route to London, ii., 194
 Visits Dr. Milner, ii., 196 ; visit?
the House of Commons, ii., 207
 Challenged by Peel, ii., 213
 Bushe's Epigram on, ii., 213
 Character of his Eloquence, ii.,
221; Speech in Freemasons' Hall,
221; baSlos the Reporters by a Speech

in Ii'ish, 280 ; a Man of the People,
291; Elected for Clare, 302; and
Re-Election, 303
O'Connell, Maurice, Death of, i., 77
O'ConneU, Miss, at the Tabinet Ball,
i., 357
O'Gorman, Nicholas Purcel, KeUer's
Retort to, i., 209; his Habiliments,
ii., 120 : Visit to London, 207 ; ap
pointed Cursitor, 355
O'Grady, Chief-Baron (Lord Guilla
more), i., 135 ; Anecdotes of, ii., 113
O'Hanlon, Mr., Speech by, ii., 223
O'Leary, Joseph, Irish Lyrist, i., 13
O'Loghlin, Sir Coleman, Irish Bams-
ter, ii., 116
O'Loghlin, Sir Michael (Master of
the Rolls), Sketch of: Person, De
portment, and Descent, ii., 106 ; Cir
cuit Costume, 107 ; his Mastery of
"Practice," 111; Memoir of, 116;
his Promotions, 116 ; his Danish An
cestor, 117 ; Statue of, in the Four
Courts, ii., 116
O'Meagher, J. B., Paris CoiTespondent
of " The Times," i., 13
Orange Toast, ii., 132
Oratory, Specimen of Forensic, ii., 157
O'Regan, Counsellor, his Life of J. P.
Curran, ii., 128
Oriel, Lord, Notice of, ii., 248
Ormsby, Sir Charles, and Mr. Sergeant
Goold, i., 241
Oxford University, Representation, ii.,
193
Palmer, Lady, Interview with, ii., 88
Parliamentary Billingsgate, ii., 292
Parliamentai'y Reform, when camod,
ii., 227
Patent of Precedency, i., 174
Peel, Sir Robert : his Business Habits
and Law Reforms, i., 327 ; defends
the Saurin Letter, ii., 34 ; defends
Lord Norbui'y, 37 ; his Early Dis
tinctions, 193 ; described by Cur
ran, 241 ; Attack on Hamilton Row
an, 211 ; his Oratory and Appear
ance, 212 ; his Challenge to O'Con
nell, 213 ; Memoir of, 215
Peer, Cost of making a, ii., 249
Peerage of "Ireland, degraded by tho
Union, i., 159
Penal Laws, Extension of, i., 361 ; Op
eration of, ii., 69 ; first Link of, 80 ;
denounced by Sir T. Butler, 83;
Enactments of, 87

INDEX.

377

Penenden Heath Meeting, ii., 315:
The Gathering, 316 ; the Peers and
the People, 318; W^illiam Cobbett,
319; Henry Hunt, 322; Lord Win
chilsea and tho Brunswickers, 325 ;
Sheil's Unspoken Speech, 334
Pennefather, Edward, Chief-Justice, i.,
188
Pennefather, Richard, Baron of Ex
chequer, i., 188
Perceval, Spencer, Notice of, ii., 289
Perjiuy, instant Punishment of, i., 33
Perrin, Judge, Notice of, i., 313 ; Char
acter as a Lawyer, ii., 362 ; Private
History, 364 ; in Parliament, 365
Peterloo Massacre, denounced by Loj-d
FitzwiUiam, i., 240
Phillips, Chai-les, Irish Orator, Memoir
of, i., 124
Phosnix Park, Dublin, ii., 166
physiology of Race in Ireland, i., 166
Pic-nic in the Woods of Wexford, i.,
295
Pitt, William, and Catholic Emancipa
tion, i., 367
Plowden, Francis, the Irish Historian,
ii., 187
Plunket, Lord-Chancellor, Sketch
of, i., 98; defends the Sheareses, i.,
99 ; opposes the Union, 99 ; accused
of unnecessary Harshness to Robert
Emmett, 101; Defence by PhiUips,
102 ; great Chancery Practice, 103 ;
Rationale of his Pleading, 105; not
a Case-Lawyer, 106 ; his Rhetoric,
107 ; Description by Phillips, 109 ;
his Style, 110; Bi'ougham's Opinion
of, 113; Success in Parliament, 113;
Advocacy of Catholic Emancipation,
114; Anti-Union Orations, 116; his
bon-mots, 117 ; Memoir of, 119
Plimket, Margaret, and the Duke of
Rutland, i., 190
Pollock, Sir Frederick, ii., 340
Pomposo, Counsellor, i., 203
Ponsonby, George, Lord-Chancellor of
Ireland, i., 129 ; Lord Norbury's At
tacks on, ii., 12 ; on Admission of
Catholic Barristers, 91
Pope, Alexander, Satire on Lord Her
vey, i., 234
Potheen, why so called, i., 70
Pre-Audience at the Bar, ii., 98
Precedency, Patent of, i., 174
Prendergast, Mr., Registrar in Chan
ceiy, i., 189

Price, Dr., Notice of, i., 236
Priests, Exertions of the, at Clai'e Elec
tion, ii., 284
Priestley, Dr., Notice of, i., 237
"Prince's Mixture," i., 308
Prisoners, Counsel for, ii., 51
Prisoners' Gratitude, Anecdotes of, i.
37
Process-Scrvers, how treated, i., 71
Protestant Ascendency, Cause of Crime,
ii., 71 ; what it means, 76
Protestant Reformation, Cobbett's His
tory of, ii., 198
Protestant Refoi-mation Society, ii., 199
Puisne Judges, i., 176
Qualification of Members, ii., 274
Quarterly Review," by whom estab
lished, i., 213
Queen's Counsel (see King's Counsel),
how appointed — Precedency — Num
bers — Advantages — and Silk-Gowns,
i., 174
Quotations, Apt, i., 257
Races, Characteristics of, in Ireland",
i., 166
Radcliffe, Dr., fees Himself, i., 136
Radnor, Earl of, ii., 318
Raglan, Lord, Cost of his Patent of
Peerage ii., 249
Rathdown, Lord, in Character, ii., 191
RebeHion of 1798, i., 154
Redesdale, Lord-Chancellor, i., 227 ;
his Successor, 228
Reflectitms on the French Revolution,
by Burke, Royal Appreciation of,
i., 239
Refonn, Parliamentary, when carried,
ii., 227
Regency, Burke's Advocacy of, i., 239
Renegade, Fate of Norcott, the,i., 215
Rent, the Catholic, ii., 292
Repeal of the Union, O'Connell's Agi
tation for, i., 369
Results of Clare Election, ii., 266
Retiring Pensions of the Judges, i., 175
Revolution in Ireland, Attempt at, i., 11
Riding-House in Dublin, Tortures in
flicted in, ii., 22
Roche, Sir Boyle, his Bulls, ii., 10
Rock, Captain, Lines on by Moore,
i., 39
Rockingham, Marquis of brings Burke
inta Parliament, i., 239
Roden, Earl of, ii., 237
Romilly, Sir Samuel, Notice of, i., 103
Rosse, Earls of, ii., 33

378

INDEX.

Rotiinda in Dublin, Public Meeting in,-
i., 281 ; Tabinet Ball in, i., 330
Rowan, Akchibald Hamilton, at
tacked by Peel, ii., 211 ; desciibed,
230; his Exile, and Pardon, 231;
his Manly Appearance, 232 ; Escape
from Prison, 233 ; Asylum in Amer
ica, 235
Royal Visits to Ireland : by Queen Vic
toria, i., 22; by George IV., i., 377
Russell, Lord John, and Relief of Dis
senters' Civil Disabilities, ii., 265
Rutland, Duke of. Viceroy of Ireland,
i., 190
Saints, the Dublin, i., 322
Saints, Ireland the Island of, ii., 197
Saints, the, in Parliament, ii., 359
St. Leonards, Lord-Ohancellor ( Sug-
den), i., 204
St. Omer, O'Connell educated at, i.,
223
St Patrick's Hall, in Dublin Castle,
ii., 220
Salaman ca, Irish Disputants at, de^
scribed in " Gil Bias," i., 376
Salaries of tlie Judges, i., 175
Sarsfield, " the Gallant" Defender of
Limerick, ii., 80
Saturday Night, the Lawyer's Holyday,
i., 206
Saurin, Attorney-General, i., 150 :
Huguenot Descent, 150 ; Business-
Habits, 153 ; opposes the Union, 157 ;
made Attorney-General, 160; Influ
ence with Lord-Chancellor Manners,
160 ; opposes the Catholic Claims,
161 ; refuses the Chief-Justiceship,
is taken at his.Word, and loses Of
fice, 163 ; Deportment and Aspect,
164 ; Skill as an Advocate, 168 ; Dis
taste for Literature, 169
 ¦' Injudicious Letter to Lord Nor
bury, ii., 33 — a Bar to his Promotion,
35 ; Lord Manners' Friendship for,
173 ; rebuff'ed by Sir A. Hart, 238
Scanlan, John, Trial of for Murder, i.,
51; Conviction and Execution, 54;
Popular Belief of his Escape, 57 ;
Motive and Malice prepense of his
Crime ii., 365
Scarlett, Sir James (Lord Abinger), No
tice o^^ ii., 36 ; at Brougham's Din
ner, 219 ; at Brougham's Levee, 348
Scott, Sir Walter, describes Castlereagh
at the Cox'onation, ii., 118; his own
Resemblance to Cobbett, 321

Scottish Judicatuj-e, i , 174
Screw, Monks of the, i., 206
Scriven, Barclay, Description of, ii., 122
Sergeants-at-Law, in England — their
Standing and Precedence, 'i., 173
Sergeants-at-Law, in Ireland, appoint
ed by the Crown, and their Prece
dence, i., 173
Shannon, Murder on the, i., 42; Mo
tive of, ii., 365
Shaw, Frederick, ii., 358; appointed
Recorder, 360
Shea, John Augustus, Irish poet, i., 13
Sheareses, John and Henry, Trial of,
i., 98; legal Murder of, 99
Sheas, Burning of the, ii., 138; His
tory of, 139 ; Trial for, 142 ; Sheil's
Speech on, 149
Sheehans, Editors of Dublin "Even-
ning Mail," ii., 176
Sheil, Richard Lalor, Memoir of, i., 5
Shelley, Mrs., Notice of, ii., 122
Sheridan, Dr., Prosecution of, i., 377
Sheridan, Richard Brinslcy, Notice of,
i., 138 ; Byron's and Moore's Opinion
of, i., 138; his Address to the Prince,
i., 371
Shifnal, Description of, ii., 201
Siddons, Mrs., Anecdotes of, ii., 218
Sidmouth, Viscount, Letter from, in the
King's Name, i., 379 ; his Peerage,
ii., 352
Silk-Gowns, by whom worn, i,, 174;
Partisan Disposal of, ii., 320
Singer, Dr. J. H., Bishop of Meath,
ii., 77
Slaney, Sceneiy on the River, i,, 214
Smith, Egerton (usually called *' Bot
Smith"), i„ 258
Smith, S. Caterson, Irish Artist, Por
trait of Sheil by, to face — i., 1
Smith, T. B. C, Master of the Rolls,
ii., 114
Smith, Sir W. Cusack, Notice of, ii.,
114
Smith, William, of Norwich, ii., 351
Smythe, Hon. Mr., a "Young Eng
land" Leader, ii., 257
Sorbonne Doctors, Attack on Bishop
Doyle by, i., 383
Southey, Robert, his Opinion of Cob
bett's pure English, ii., 319
Speculative Society of Edinburgh, i.,
253
Stanhope, Colonel Leicester (Earl of
Harrington), i., 350

INDEX.

379

State, Lord Wellesley's Viceregal, i.,
337
State of Parties in Dublin : Mr.
Bellew in " Silk Attire," ii., 354 ;
O'Loghlin and O'Gorman promoted,
355; Dublin Election: Moore and
Recorder Shaw versus Harty an d
Perrin, 357 ; Lord-Chancellor Hart,
Mr. Saurin, and the Master of the
Rolls, 359 ; Victory of the Liberals,
366
Staunton, Sir George, in the Errioassy
to China, i., 183
Steele, Thomas, ii., 269 ; sont to Clare,
270 ; Memoir of, 272 ; seconds Mr.
O'Connell's Nomination, 289
Stephen's Green, Dublin, ii., 181
Sterne, Stojy of the Sword, i., 300
Stothard,Thos.,andChantrey's" Sleep
ing Children," i., 332
Stourton, Lord, a Catholic Peer, ii., 223
Strangford, Lord, ii., 257
Stuart, Villiers, defeats Lord George
Beresford at Waterford, ii., 235
Stuff-Gown, worn by Utter or Outer Bar
risters, i., 174
Sullivan, Stephen, tried and convicted
of Murder, i., 56 ; his Confession, 56
" Sun, The," London Newspaper, i., 9,
and ii., 331
Sussex, Duke of. Memoir of, ii., 219
Sutton,Charles Manners (Viscount Can
terbury), Speaker of the Plouse of
Commons, ii., 207; at Brougham's
Levee, 350
Tabinet Ball, the Dublin, i, 328
Tandy, Napper, a United Irishman,
ii., 9
Taylor, General Zachary, Wellington's
Opinion of, ii., 309
"Tenth, The," Anecdotes of, i., 355
Terror, Irish Reign of, ii., 14
Test and Corporation Acts repealed,
ii., 315
Teynham, Lord, ii., 333
Thurlow, Lord-Chancellor, i., 104; his
Opinion of Burke, 238
"Times" Newspaper, Influence of,i., 39
Tinnahinch, Grattan's Seat, i., 115
Tipperary, Crime in, ii., 65 ; Antiquity
and Causes of, 66
Toler, John (Eari of Norbuiy), ii., 5
Tone, Theobald Wolfe, i., 363; Secre-
t&,ry of the Catholics, 366 ; his Sui
cide, ii., 9 ; Scene with Sir George
Hill, 31 ; his Eventful Career, 119

Torrens, Judge, ii., 31
Tower of London, ii., 205
Towers, Dr., Notice of, i., 236
Travelling in Ireland, i., 287
Trinity College, Dublin, i., 288
Trippier, the Parisian Avocat, i., 195
Troy, Dr., Archbishop of Dublin, i., 385 ,
his Poverty, 386
Truro, Lord-Chancellor (Sir Thomas
Wilde), large Fee to,i., 19; originally
an Attorney, 29
Union Debating-Clubs at Oxford and
Cambridge, i., 253
Union, the, opposed by CuiTan, Plun
ket, Ponsonby, Saurin, Burrowes,
Bushe, and the Irish Bar generally,
i., 129 ; Barrington's Historic Me
moirs of, 246 ; how the Measure was
cai-ried, 248 ; opposed by O'Connell,
369 ; obtained on broken Promises,
ii., 98
" United Irishman, the," edited by
John Mitchel, ii., 118
Vallancey, General, the Antiquarian,
ii., 260
" Vathek," Author of, i., 193
Verdicts, Strange, i., 26
Vestris, Madame, i., 343
Vice-Queen, an American, i., 332
Victoria, Queen, visits Ireland, i., 22
Viziird, William, Attorney to Queen
Caroline, ii., 348
Voltaire, Notice of, i., 79
Volunteers, the Irish, i., 363
Walker's "Hibernian Magazine," ii.,
178
Wallace, Thomas, i., 269; Promotion,
270; Liberal Opinions, 270 ; Intel
lectual Powers, and Appearance, 27 1;
on Jury-Cases, 274; Fearlessness at
the Bar, 276 ; Literaiy Taste, 285 ;
in Parliament, 286 •
Walsh, John, tried at Clonmel Assizes,
ii., 47
War, Four Years' Expenses of, ii., 341
Warren, Mr. Sergeant, i., 189
Waterford Election, ii., 235
Wellesley, Marquis, why made Irish
Viceroy, i., 178 ; Bottle-Riot against,
266 ; his Man-iage, 334 ; at Tabinet
B|l11, 335 ; Memoir of, 336 ; Assump
tion of Regal State by, 337
Wellesley, Marchioness, suggests the
TabinetBall,i.,329; Memoirof,332;
her reputed Wealth, 334 ; her Per
son described, 338 ; Death of, ii., 365

380

IHDEX.

Wellington, Duke of. Epigram on, i., 23;
Letter to Archbishop Curtis, i., 387 ;
his Career, ii., 308; imputed Want
of Nationality, 309 ; at Lord Brough
am's Levee, 345
Wetherell, Sir Charies, ii., 210
Wexfoi-d Assizes, Sketch of, i., 287 ;
Trial of Father Carroll, 304
Wexford, old Monastery of, i., 290
 Peasantry of, i., 292
 Massacre on the Bridge of, i., 297
 O'Connell's Entrance into, i.,298
Whiteboys, why so called, i., 39
Whiteboyism, how caused, ii., Q7
Whitehall, London, Government Offices
in, i., 254
Wigs, Lawyers', Differences in, i., 174
Wilde, ^ir Thomas (Lord Truro), large
Fee to, i., 19
Wilkins, Mr. Sergeant, Leader of the
Northern Circuit in England, i., 174
William III., a Dutch Adventurer, i. 88
WilHs, N. P., his "Pencillings by the
Way," ii., 213
IVilson. HaiTiet, Notice of, i., 348

Wilson, Sir Robert, ii., 347
Wilson, SirT. M., High-Sheriff of Kent,
ii., 326
W^inchilsea, Earl of, ii., 325; his Kent
ish Speech, 331
Windele, John, Irish Antiquarian, i., 13
Windham, Opinion of Burke, i., 238
Wings, the, of Emancipation Bill, i.,
7 ; what they were, ii., 276
Wolfe, Rev. Charles, an Orator in the
Historical Society, i., 253
Wolfe, Chief-Baron, Carelessness of
Atrire, ii., 107 ; his Career, 119
Wolstoncroft, Mary, Author of " The
Rights of Woman," ii., 122
Yelverton, Bany, his Career, i., 25:
Friendship for Curran, 303
Yelverton, Lawyers, the, i,, 205
York, Archbishop of, ii., 345
York, Duke of, Anti-Catholic Speech
by, ii., 207
Young, Arthur, on Irish Crime, ii., 66
Young, Murdo, of " The Sun" News
paper, ii., 331
" Young Ireland" Party formed, i., 369

THE END

YALE UNIVERSITY L

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