'I gwt theft Baoks
for' Hie fal^»&ng of cc College in ihit Cotai^

0

'Y^ILH-^lMlIYIEI^Sflinf-

Gift of
MRS. EDWARD ALLEN WILSON
1929

BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES

SIR JONAH BARPINGTON., K.C

PEESONAL SKETCHES

or

HIS OWN TIMES

SIE JONAH BAEEINGTON S
Uj  -—  -
member of the irish pabliament,
judge op the high coubt op admiealtt im" ibeland, and author op
**the eise and pall of the irish nation."

THIRD EDITION
With a Mettioir of the Author j ati Essay on Irish Wit and Humour ;
and Notes and Corrections
By townsend YOUNG, LL.D.
AUTHOR OF " THE HISTORY OP IRELAND," ETC.

IN TWO VOLS.— VOL. L

LO'S-DO^ :
LYNCH CONWAY GENT.
1871

TO
JAMES MOLYNEUX CAULFIELD
EARL AND VISCOUNT CHAELEMONT
THIS THIRD EDITION
&ix 3(ona!j Barrington's tP^^sonal Sftetc^fS
IS EESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
AS A TEIBUTE TO HEEEDITABY WOETH
BY
THE EDIT.OE.

PEEFACE TO THE THIED EDITION.

The first edition of the Personal Sketches of his own
Times, by Sir Jonah Barrington, Member of the Irish
Parliament, and Judge of the High Court of Admiralty
in Ireland, was published in 1827;, a second edition
appeared in 1830, and a supplementary volume in 1832.
The third volume has become not only scarce but a
curiosity. The whole work is now presented to the
public complete, with such revision as circumstances
required. Its value will be easily conceived. It amply
presents the most striking features of a social state, such
as never existed in any part of the civilised world, save
in Ireland, in Barrington's time. The most wonderful
portions of these Sketches are such as owe least to the
author's invention or vivacity ; and they will also be the
most suggestive to the moralist and the legislator.
The additional matter has been limited to necessary
illustration. The memoirs of Mrs. Jordan and of Sir
Jonah have been drawn up with care, and from reliable
sources, with a rejection of trivial gossip. The article on
Irish Wit and Humour, it is hoped, will be acceptable as
a contribution to the general temper of the work. The
illustrations of this article are original, and have never
been published till now. This edition is confidently en
trusted to candid criticism.
An aUusion to the original arrangement in three
volumes has been, once or twice, fitly retained.

INTEODUCTION.

The compilation by me of a medley of this description
may appear rather singular. Indeed, I myself think it
so, and had got nearly half-way through it before I could
reasonably account for the thing ; — more especially as it
was by no means commenced for mercenary purposes.
The fact is, I had long since engaged my mind and time
on a work of real public importance ; and so far as that
work was circulated, my literary ambition was more than
gratified by the approbation it received. But it has so
happened, that my publishers, one after another, have
been wanting in the qualification of stability ; and hence,
my Historic Memoirs of Ireland have been lying fast
asleep, in their own sheets, on the shelves of three suc
cessive booksellers or their assignees ; and so ingeniously
were they scattered about, that I found it impossible for
some years to collect them. This was rather provoking,
as there were circumstances connected with the work,
which, be its merits what they may, would, in my opinion,
have ensured it an extensive circulation. However, I
have at length finished the Memoirs in question, which
I verily believe are now about to be published in reality,
and wUl probably excite sundry differences of opinion
and shades of praise or condemnation (both of the book
and the author) among his Majesty's liege subjects.

INTEODUCTION.

For the purpose of completing that work, I had lately
re-assumed my habit of writing ; and being tired of so
serious and responsible a concern as Memoirs of Ireland
and the Union, I began to consider what species of em
ployment might lightly wear away the long and tedious
winter evenings of a demi-invalid ; and recoUecting that
I could neither live for ever nor was sure of being the
"last man," I conceived the idea of looking over and
burning a horse-load or two of letters, papers, and frag
ments of all descriptions, which I had been carrying
about in old trunks (not choosing to leave them at any
body's mercy), and to which I had been perpetually
adding. The execution of this inflammatory project I im
mediately set about with vast assiduity and correspond
ing success ; and doubtless, with very great advantage
to the literary reputation of an immense number of my
former correspondents as well as my own. After having
made considerable progress, I found that some of the
fragments amused myself, and I therefore began to con
sider whether they might not also amuse other people.
I was advised to make selections from my store, particu
larly as I had for near half-a-century kept — not a diary
— but a sort of rambling chronicle, wherein I made notes
of matters which, from time to time, struck my fancy.
Some of these memoranda were illegible ; others just
sufficient to set my memory working; some were sad,
and some were cheerful ; some very old, others recent.
In fine, I began to select ; but I soon found that anything
like a regular series was out of the question ; so I took
a heap indiscriminately, picked out the subjects that
amused me most, wrote a list of their several headings,

INTEODUCTION. xi
which were very numerous ; and, as his Majesty pricks
for sheriffs, so did I for subjects, and thereby gathered
as many as I conceived would make two or three volumes.
My next process was to make up court-dresses for my
Sketches and Fragments, such as might facilitate their
introduction into respectable company, without observing
strict chronological sequence, to which I am aware light
readers have a rooted aversion.
This laudable occupation served to amuse me and to
fill up the blanks of the winter evenings ; and being
finished, the residue of the papers re-deposited, and the
trunks locked again, I requested the publisher of my
Historic Memoirs also to set my Personal Sketches
afloat. This he undertook to do : and they are now sent
out to the public — the world, as it is caUed; and the
reader {gentle reader is too hackneyed a term to be
employed by me) is fully at liberty to draw from them
whatever deductions he pleases. AU I have to say is,
that the several matters contained herein are neither
fictions nor essays, but relate to real matters of fact, and
personages composed of flesh and blood. I have aimed
at no display of either fancy or imagination ; nor have
I set down long dialogues, which could not possibly be
recorded except when heroes and heroines carried short
hand writers in their pockets, which must have been
peculiarly inconvenient. In speaking of fanciful matters,
by-the-by, I may as weU except my own opinions on
certain subjects here and there interspersed, which I
freely leave to the mercy of any one who is disposed to
esteem them visionary.
However, be it understood that I by no means
intend this disclaimer as an assault on, but on the

Xll INTEODUCTION.
contrary as a distinguished compliment to, writers and to
works of pure imagination — of improbability and im
possibility ! — inasmuch as such works prove an unlimited
range of intellect and talent, on the part of the authors,
for inventing matters of fact that never could have
occurred, and conversations that never could have taken
place — a talent which, when duly cultivated and prac
tised for the use of friends and private families, seldom
fails to bring an author's name into most extensive circu
lation ; and if perchance he should get himself into any
scrape by it, nothing is so likely as the exercise of the
same talent of invention to get him out of it again.
On the other hand, I must own, even against myself,
that the writing of mere commonplace truths requires
no talent whatsoever ; it is quite a humdrum straight
forward acquirement, which any person may attaui.
Besides, matter of fact is not at aU in vogue just now;
the disrepute under which truth in general at present
labours in all departments and branches of literature has
put it quite out of fashion even amongst the savans — so
that chemistry and mathematics are almost the only sub
jects on the certainty of which the " nobUity, gentry, and
the public at large," appear to place any very consider
able reliance.
Having thus, I hope, proved my candour at my own
cost, the deduction is self-evident — namely, that the un
fortunate authenticity of these sketches must debar them
from any competition with the tales and tattle of unso
phisticated invention ; when, for instance, scandal is true,
it is (as some ladies have assured me) considered by the
whole sex as scarcely worth listening to, and actually
requiring at least very considerable exaggeration to

INTEODUCTION. xlii
render it at all amusing ! I therefore greatly fear I may
not, in this instance, experience so much of their favour
as I am always anxious to obtain ; my only consolation
is, that when their desire to indulge an amiable appetite
for scandal is very ardent, they may find ample materials
in every bookseUer's shop and haut-ton society to gratify
the passion.I feel now necessitated to recur to another point, and
I do it at the risk of being accused of egotism. I hope,
however, I can advance a good reason for my proceeding —
namely, that on reading over some of the articles whereof
this melange is composed, I freely admit, that if I were
not very intimately acquainted with myself, I might be
led at least into a puzzle as to the writer's genuine senti
ments on many points of theology and politics. Now, I
wish, seriously speaking, to avoid on these subjects all
ambiguity ; and therefore, as responsible for the opinions
put forth in the following sketches, I beg to state that I
consider myself strictly orthodox both in politics and
theology — ^that is to say, I profess to be a sound Protes
tant without bigotry, and an hereditary royalist without
ultraism. Liberty I love — Democracy I hate — Fanati
cism I denounce ! These principles I have ever held and
avowed, and they are confirmed by time and observation.
I own that I have been what is generally called a loyalist,
and I have been also what is generally called a patriot ;
but I never was either unqualifiedly. I always thought,
and I think stUl, that they never should and never need
be (upon fair principles) opposed to each other. I can
also see no reason why there may not be patriot kings as
weU as patriot subjects — a patriot minister, indeed, may
be more problematical. In my public life I have met

INTEODUCTION.

with but one transaction that even threatened to make
my patriotism overbalance my loyalty — I allude to the
purchase and sale of the Irish Parliament, called a Union,
which I ever regarded as one of the most flagrant public
acts of corruption on the records of history, and certainly
the most mischievous to this empire — except our absurd
ities at Vienna. I believe very few men sleep the
sounder for having supported either the former or the
latter measures, though some, it is true, went to sleep a
good deal sooner than they expected when they carried
those measures into execution.
I must also observe that, as to the detail of politics,
I feel now very considerable apathy. My day for actual
duty is past, and I shaU only further aUude, as a simple
casuist, to the slang terms in which it has become the
fashion to dress up the most important subjects of British
statistics — subjects on which certain of these sketches
appear to have a remote bearing, and on which my ideas
may possibly be misunderstood.
I wish it therefore to be considered as my humble
opinion, that what in poUtical slang is termed Radical
Reform is in reality proximate revolution; Universal
Suffrage appears to me to be inextinguishable uproar;
Annual Parliaments nothing less thsm periodical Wood
shed. My doubts as a casuist, with these impressions
on my mind, must naturaUy be, how the orderly folks of
Great Britain would relish proximate revolution, inextin
guishable uproar, and periodical bloodshed ? I do not
extend the query to the natives of my own country,
because since his Majesty was there nobody has taken
much notice of them ; and besides the people in Ireland
having very little to eat and no amusement at all, the

INTRODUCTION. XV
aforesaid pastimes might divert them, or at least their
hunger, and of course be extremely acceptable to a great
body of the population.
As I also perceive some articles in these sketches
touching upon matters relative to Popes, Catholic coun
tries, etc., lest I may be misconstrued or misrepresented
on that head, I beg to observe, that I meddle not at all
in the controversy of Catholic Emancipation. The
Doctors employed differ so essentially in opinion that, as
it frequently falls out on many other consultations, they
may lose their patient whilst debating on the prescrip
tion; in truth, I don't see how the Doctors can ever
agree, as the prescribers must necessarily take the assay,
and one half of them verUy beUeve that they should be
poisoned thereby ! — " Amongst ye be it, blind harpers ! "
I apprehend I have now touched on most of the topics
which occurred to me as requiring a word of explanation.
I repeat that this book is only to be considered as a de
sultory meZan^e^the whim of a winter's evening — a
mere chance-selection. I shall therefore make no sort of
apology for inaccuracies as to unity of time, for defective
connection, or the like. It amused my leisure hours, and
if it fortunately amuses those of other people I shall re
ceive a great deal of satisfaction.
Jonah Barrington.
May 28, 1827.

CONTENTS OP
THE EIEST VOLUME.

PAGE
MEMOIR OE SIE JONAH BAEEINGTON . . xxix
MY FAMILY CONNECTIONS.
FamUy mansion described — Library — Garden — Anecdotes of
my family — State of landlord and tenant ia 1760 — The gout
— Ignorance of the peasantry ; extraordinary anomaly in the
loyalty and disloyalty of the Irish country gentlemen as to
James I., Charles I., Charles IL, James II., and William —
Ancient toasts — My great-grandfather. Colonel John Bar
rington, hanged on his o-vm gate ; but saved by Ed-ward
Doran, trooper of King James — Irish customs, anecdotes,
etc. ......... 1
ELIZABETH FITZGEEALD.
My great-aunt, Elizabeth — Besieged in her castle of Moret — My
uncle seized and hanged before the -walls — Attempted ab
duction of EUzabeth, -whose forces surprise the castle of
Eeuben — Severe battle . . . . . .12
IEISH GENTEY AND THEIE EETAINEES.
Instances of attachment formerly of the lo^wer orders of Irish to
the gentry — A field of corn of my father's reaped in one
night -without his knowledge-^My grandfather's servants
cut a man's ears off by misinterpretation — My grandfather
and grandmother tried for the fact — Acquitted — The colliers
of Donane — Their fidelity at my election at BaUynakUl,
1790  25
VOL. I. l

CONTENTS.

MY EDUCATION.

My godfathers — Lord Maryborough— Personal description and
extraordinary character of Mr. Michael Lodge— My early
education — At home — At school — My private tutor, Eev.
P. Crawley, described— Defects of the University course-
Lord Donoughmore's father — Anecdote of the Vice-Provost
— A country sportsman's education . . . .30
IEISH DISSIPATION IN 1778.
The Huntsman's cottage — Preparations for a seven days' carousal
— A cock-fight — Welsh main — Harmony — A cow and a
hogshead of wine consumed by the party — Comparison be
tween former dissipation and that of the present day — ^A
dandy at dinner in Bond Street — Captain Parsons Hoye and
his nephew — The nephew disinherited by his uncle for
dandyism . . 38
MY BEOTHEE'S HUNTING-LODGE.
Waking the piper — Curious scene at my brother's hunting-lodge
— Joe Kelly's and Peter Alley's heads fastened to the wall
— Operations practised in extricating them . . 44
CHOICE OF PEOFESSION.
The army — Irish volunteers described — Their military ardour —
The author inoculated there-with — He grows cooler — The
Church — The Faculty — The Law — Objections to each —
Colonel Barrington removes his establishment to the Irish
capital — A country gentleman taking up a city residence 48
MUEDER OF CAPTAIN O'FLAHEETY.
Murder of Captain O'Flaherty by Mr. Lanegan, his son's tutor,
and Mrs. O'Flaherty — The latter, after betraying her accom
plice, escapes — Trial of Lanegan — He is hanged and
quartered at Dublin — Terrific appearance of his supposed
ghost to hi-s pupil, David Lander, and the author, at the

CONTENTS. xix
Temple in London — Lander nearly dies of fright — Lanegan's ^^"^
extraordinary escape — Not even suspected in Ireland — He
gets off to France, and enters the monastery of La Trappe —
A churchyard anecdote — My own superstition nearly fatal
to me ...... .62

ADOPTION OF THE LAW.
Marriage of my eldest brother — The bride's-maid, Miss D. W.
— Female attractions not dependent on personal beauty —
Mutual attachment — Betrothal of the author, and his de
parture for London, to study for the Bar . . .60
A DUBLIN BOAEDING-HOUSE.
Sketch of the company and inmates — Lord Mountmorris — Lieu
tenant Gam Johnson, E.N. — Sir John and Lady O'Flaherty
— Mrs. Wheeler — Lady and Miss Barry — Memoir and cha
racter of Miss Barry, afterwards Mrs. Baldwin — Ruinous
effects of a dramatic eduoation exemplified — Lord Mount-
morris's duel with the Honourable Francis Hely Hutchinson
at Donnybrook — His Lordship wounded — Marquis of Ely,
his second . .... .64
IEISH BEAUTIES.
Strictures on change of manners — Moral influence of dress — The
three beauties — Curious trial respecting Lady M 
Termination favourable to her ladyship — Interesting and
affecting incidents of that lady's life — Sir E  M  ,
his character, and cruelty — Lady M. married against her
will — Quits her husband — Returns . ... 70
PATRICIANS AND PLEBEIANS.
The three classes of gentlemen in Ireland described — Irish
poets — Mr. Thomas Flinter and D. Henesey — The Bard —
Peculiarities of the peasants — Their ludicrous misinforma
tion as to distances accounted for — Civility of a waiter —
Their equivocation and misdirection of travellers to different
places ........ 1^

XX CONTENTS.

IRISH INNS.
PAGE
Their general character — Objections commonly made to them —
Answers thereto — Earl Farnham's hospitahty — MoU Harding
— Accident nearly of a fatal nature to the Author . . 85

FATAL DUEL OF MY BROTHER
Duel of my brother, William Barrington, with Mr. M'Kenzie
— He is killed by his antagonist's second, General Gillespie
— The General's character — Tried for murder — Judge Brad
street's charge — Extraordinary incidents of the trial — The
jury arranged — Gillespie goes to India — KOled there — ^The
High Sheriff (Mr. Lyons) challenged by mistake — His hair
cut off by Henry French Barrington — Exhibited in the
baU-room — The Curl Club formed ....

ENTEANCE INTO PAELIAMENT.
My first entrance into the Irish House of Commons — Dinner at
Sir John Parnell's — Commencement of my intimacy with
public men of celebrity — Maiden speech — I attack Grattan
and Curran — Suicide of Mr. Thoroton — Lord De Blacquiere
— His character . . . . . . .96

SINGULAR CUSTOMS IN THE IRISH PAELIAMENT.
Anecdote of Tottenham in his boots — Interesting trial of the
Earl of Kingston for murder . . . . .104

THE SEVEN BAEONETS.
Sir John Stuart Hamilton — Sir Eichard Musgrave — Sir Edward
Newenham — Sir Vesey Colclough — Sir Frederick Flood —
Sir John Blacquiere — Sir Boyle Roche — His curious bulls —
Their characters and personal description — Anecdotes and
bon-mots ¦¦...... 110

CONTENTS. xxi
ENTRANCE INTO OFFICE. PAGE
The author first placed in office by Lord Westmoreland — Made
King's Counsel by Lord Clare — Jealousy of the Bar — De
scription of Kilkenny Castle — Trial of the Earl of Ormonde
for outrage at Kilkenny — Liberal present from the Earl of
Ormonde to the author, and his subsequent letter . .119
DR. ACHMET BORUMBORAD.
Singular anecdotes of Dr. Achmet Borumborad— He proposes to
erect baths in Dublin, in the Turkish fashion — Obtains
grants from Parliament for that purpose — The Baths well
executed — The Doctor's banquet — Ludicrous anecdote of
nineteen Noblemen and Members of Parliament falling into
his grand salt-water bath — The accident nearly causes the
ruin of the Doctor and his establishment — He falls in love
with Miss Hartigan, and marries her — Sudden metamor
phosis of the Turk into Mr. Patrick Joyce . . . 1 25
ALDERMEN OF SKINNERS' ALLEY.
The institution of Orangemen — United Irishmen — Protestant
ascendency — Dr. Duigenan — Origin, progress, and customs
of the aldermen of Skinners' Alley described — Their revels
— Orange toast, never before published — The aldermen
throw Mr. M'Mahon, an apothecary, out of a window for
striking the bust of King WUliam — Anecdotes of Sir John
Bourke and Sir Francis Gould — The Pope's buU of absolu
tion to Sir Francis G  . . . . .133
PEOCESSION OF THE TEADES.
Dublin corporation anecdote — Splendid triennial procession of
the Dublin corporation, called Fringes (franchises), described 140
IEISH EEBELLION.
EebeUion in Ireland, in 1798 — Mr. Waddy's Castle— A priest
cut in two by the portcullis, and partly eaten by Waddy

XXU CONTENTS.
—Dinner-party at Lady Colclough's— Names and char- "™
acters of the company, including Mr. Bagenal Harvey,
Captain Keogh, etc. — Most of them executed soon after —
Tour through and state of County Wexford, after the battles
and storming of the town — Colonel Walpole killed and his
regiment defeated at Gorey . . . • .145

WOLF TONE.
Counsellor Theobald Wolf Tone — His resemblance to Mr.
Croker — He is ordered to be hanged by a miUtary court —
General Craig attached in Court of Common Pleas — Tone's
suicide — Cruel suggestion respecting bim . . .153

DUBLIN ELECTION.
My contest for Dublin city — Supported by Grattan, Ponsonby,
Plunkett, and Curran — Singularity of a canvass for Dublin
— The election — Grattan's philippic, never before published
— Memoirs of Mr. John Gififard, called the " dog in office"
— Horish the chimney-sweeper's bon-mot . . . 156

ELECTION FOR COUNTY WEXFORD.
Richard Brinsley Sheridan's contest for County Wexford,
omitted by all his pseudo-biographers — Duel of Mr. Alcock
and Mr. Colclough on a question respecting Mr. Sheridan's
poU — Colclough kiUed — Mr. Alcock's trial — His sister. Miss
Alcock, dies lunatic in consequence — Marquess of Ely tried
for an outrage at Wexford, and fined . . . .165

LOED TYEAWLEY.
Lord Clonmell, chief -justice of the Irish Court of King's Bench
— His character — Lady Tyrawley's false charge against him
— Consequent duel between him and Lord Tyrawley —
Eclaircissement — Lord Clonmell's hints "How to rule a
Wife"  171

CONTENTS. xxiii
DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND MAEQUESS OF
LONDONDEEEY.
PAGE
My first acquaintance with the Duke of WelUngton and the late
Marquess of Londonderry, at a dinner at my own houses-
Some memoirs and anecdotes of the former as a public man
— My close connection with government — Extraordinary
conference between Lord Castlereagh, Mr. Cooke, and mc, in
August 1798 — Singular communication — Offers made to me
for succession as soUcitor-general — I decline the terms pro
posed — Lord Castlereagh's letter to me — Character of Mr.
Pelham . . ..... 175
LOED NOEBUEY.
Quarrel between Lord Norbury and the author in the House of
Commons — Curran's bon-mot — Dinner at Lord Eedesdale's,
who attempts being agreeable, but is annoyed by Lord
Norbury (then Mr. Toler) — Counsellor O'Farrell — Lord Nor
bury and young Burke — His Lordship presides at Carlow
assizes in the character of Hawthorn . . . .184

HENEY GEATTAN.
Mr. Grattan in his sedan-chair — The point of honour — Mr.
Egan's gift of second sight — The guillotine and executioner
— Colonel Burr, Vice-President of the United States, and
Mr. Esindolph — Mr. Grattan in masquerade — Death of that
illustrious patriot, and strictures on his interment in West
minster Abbey — Letter from the author to his son, Henry
Grattan . . .... 190

HIGH LIFE IN NEWGATE.
Lord Aldborough quizzes the Lord ChanceUor — Voted a libeUer
by the House of Peers — His spirited conduct — Sentenced
to imprisonment in Newgate by the Court of King's Benoh^
Memoirs of Mr. Knaresborough — His extraordinary trial —

XXIV CONTENTS.
Sentenced to death, but transported— Escapes from Botany '""''
Bay, returns to England, and is committed to Newgate . 198
JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN.
Sketch of his character— Personal description — Lodgings at
Carlow — Mr. Curran and Mr. Godwin— Scene with Miss
Hughes — Mr. Curran's notion of his own prowess^-The dis
qualifications of a wig — Lord and Lady Carleton — Curran
in 1812 — An attorney turned cobbler — Curran's audience
of the Count d'Artois  205
THE LAW OF LIBEL.
Observations on the law of libel, particularly in Ireland —
"Hoy's Mercury" — Messrs. Van Trump and Epaphroditus
Dodridge — Former leniency regarding cases of Ubel contrasted
with recent severity — Lord ClonmeU and the Irish bar — Mr.
Magee, of the " DubUn Evening Post " — Festivities on "Fiat
HUl" — TheophUus Swift and his two sons — His duel with
the Duke of Richmond— The " Monster !"— Swift libels the
FeUows of Dublin University — His curious trial — Contrast
between the English and Irish bars — Mr. James Fitzgerald
— Swift is found guUty, and sentenced to Newgate — Dr.
Burrows, one of the FeUows, afterwards Ubels Mr. Swift, and
is convicted — Both confined in the same apartment at New
gate  219
PULPIT, BAR, AND PARLIAMENTARY ELOQUENCE.
Biographical and characteristic sketch of Dean Kirwan — His ex
traordinary eloquence — the pecuUar powers of Sheridan,
Curran, and Grattan contrasted — Observations on pulpit, bar,
and parUamentary oratory — Daniel O'Connell one ofthe best
orators of any age . . . .... 233
QUEEN CAROLINE.
Reception of the late Queen CaroUne (then Princess of Wales)
at the drawing-room held after the " DeUcate Investigation"

CONTENTS. xxv
— Her depression and subsequent levity — Queen Charlotte ^"^
and the Princess compared and contrasted — Reflections on
the incidents of that day and evening — The Thames on a
VauxhaU night ....... 242
LORD YELVERTON AND THE BAR.
Characteristic and personal sketches of three Irish barristers:
Mr. WUliam Fletcher (afterwards chief-justice of the Court
of Common Pleas), Mr. John Egan (afterwards judge of
DubUn County), and Mr. Bartholomew Hoare, King's Counsel
— Lord Yelverton's dinner-party .... 247
MR. NOECOT'S ATTEMPT AT SUICIDE.
The hoUowness of interested popularity Ulustrated in the ex
ample of Mr. Norcot — The dUemma of a gamester — The last
resource — The "faithful" valet — Mr. Norcot turns Mahometan 25 1

ANECDOTES OF IRISH JUDGES.
Baron Monckton — Judge Boyd — Judge Henn — Legal blunder of
a judge, and Curran's bon-mot thereon — Baron Power — His
suicide — Crosby Morgal's spirit of emulation — Judge WiUiam
Johnson — Curious anecdote of him and the author —
Judge KeUy — His character and bon-mots — Lord KUwarden
— His character — Murder of him and his nephew the Rev.
Mr. Wolfe — Mr. Emmet executed — Memoir of that person —
Judge Eobert Johnson — Arrested in Ireland, and tried in
London, for a Ubel written on Lord Redesdale in Ireland and
published by Cobbett — Doubts of the legaUty of his Lordship's
trial — He is found guilty ..... 255
THE FIEE-EATEES.
Passion for duelUng in Ireland — Ancient duel before the judges
and law authorities, etc. etc., at the Castle of DubUn — List
of official and judicial duellists in author's time — Family
weapons described — The Fire-eaters' Society — Their chiefs —
Elegant institution of the Knights of Tara — Description of

XXVl CONTENTS.
them— Their exhibitions and meetings— The rules of duelling '"""'
and points of honour estabUshed by the Fire-eaters, caUed the
Thirty-six Commandments— Singular duel between the author
and Mr. Eichard Daly, a remarkable duellist and fop — ^Daly
hit — Author's second, the celebrated BaUoon Crosby — His
singular appearance and character .... 270
DUELLING EXTEAORDINAEY.
Frequency of election-duels — Ludicrous affair between Frank
Skelton and an exciseman — Frank shoots the exciseman and
runs away — His curious reasons — Sir J. Bourke's quadrUle
duel, -with five hits — Mr. H. D. Grady's remarkable meeting
with CounseUor O'Maher — O'Maher hit — CivU proposition
of G  's second — G  's gallant letter to the author on his
election for Maryborough — Honourable Barry Yelverton chal
lenged by nine officers at once — His elucidation of the Fire-
eaters' Eesolutions — Lord Kilkenny's memorable duels and
lawsuits — His Lordship is shot by Mr. Ball, an attorney — The
heir to his title (the Hon. Somerset Butler) chaUenges Coun
seUor Burrowes — The latter hit, but his life saved by some gin
gerbread nuts — Lord Kilkenny's duel -with Counsellor Byrne
— The counsellor wounded — CounseUor Guinness escapes a
rencontre — Sketch of CounseUor M'Nally — His duel with the
author — His three friends, aU afterwards hanged — M'NaUy
wounded — Bon-mot of Mr. Harding — The affair highly bene
ficial to M'Nally — His character, marriage, and death — Ancient
mode of fighting duels — The Usts described — Duel of Colonel
Barrington with Squire GUbert on horseback — Both wounded
—GUbert's horse killed  285
GEOEGE HAETPOLE.
Curious fatality in the Hartpole family — Characteristic sketch of
the last of the name — Description of Shrewl Castle — The
chapel and cemetery — Strictures on epitaph-writing — Eccen
tricities of the Earl of Aldborough — His Lordship proposes
his sister, Lady Sarah Stratford, as returning officer for the
borough of Baltinglass — Consequent disturbances — The
North Briton put on his mettle, but out-manoeuvred — "Lend-

CONTENTS. xxvii
ing to the Lord " — Successful conspiracy to marry Hartpole "°''
to the daughter of a viUage innkeeper — He forms an attach
ment to Miss Maria Otway, whom he marries, under the plea
of his pre-vious connection being Ulegal — Unfortunate nature
of this union — Separation of the parties — Hartpole's voyage
to Portugal, his return and death — Sundry other anecdotes of
the Stratford family . . . . . .301
HAMILTON ROWAN AND THE BAR.
Sketch of the character of Mr. HamUton Rowan — His Quixotic
spirit of philanthropy — Case of Mary Neil taken up by Mr.
Eowan — Dinner-club among the briefless barristers of Dublin
— Apparition of Mr. HamUton Eowan and his dog — More
frightened than hurt — An unanswerable query — Mr. Eowan's
subsequent adventures — The Eev. Mr. Jackson — Brought
up to receive sentence for high-treason, and expires in
Court  327
SELF-DECAPITATION.
An amputated chapter . . . . . .335
FATHEE O'LEAEY.
Humorous story of Father O'Leary and a bear — Mistaken notions
respecting Ireland on the Continent — Lord Ventry and his
tenant : an anecdote characteristic of the Irish peasant . 336
DEATH OF LOED ROSSMOEE
The Countess Dowager of Mayo leaves Ireland — Her estate pur
chased by the author — Dunran — Lord Eossmoxe's apparition 340
MEMORANDA CRITICA.
Remarks on Lady Morgan's novel of " The WUd Irish Girl," etc.
— Prince O'SuUivan at KUlarney — Miss Edgeworth's "Castle
Eackrent " — Anecdote of Jonathan Clerk — " Florence Macar-
thy" — Comparison between Lady Morgan and Thomas

XXVUl CONTENTS.
Moore as writers — The author's knowledge of both — " Cap- ^"^^
tain Rock" condemned — ^The "Irish Melodies" by Moore
and Power — ^The harmonising of them by Sir John Steven
son — Anecdote of Mr. Thomas Moore and Mrs. KeUy . 347
MEMORANDA POETICA.
Poets and poetasters — Major Eoche's extraordinary poem on the
Battle of Waterloo — A man's age discovered by his poetry —
EvUs of a motto — Amorous feelings of youth — ^Love-verses
of a boy ; of a young man — " Loves of the Angels " — ^Dinner
verses of an Oxonian — " The Highlander,'' a poem . . 355
THEATEICAL RECOLLECTIONS.
The author's early visits to Crow Street Theatre — Interruptions
of the University men — College pranks — Old Mr. Sheridan
in " Cato " and in " Alexander the Great " — Curious scene
introduced by mistake in the latter tragedy — Mr. Digges in
the Ghost of Hamlet's father — Chorus of Cocks — The
author's preference of comedy to tragedy — Modern comedy
—The French stage  367

MEMOIR OF SIE JONAH BARRINGTON,
JUDGE OF THE HIGH COURT OF ADMIBALTY IN IRELAND.

Jonah Barrington, born 1760, was the fourth of sixteen
chUdren of John Barrington of Knapton, near Abbey-
, leix. Queen's County, Ireland. He is principaUy re
membered for his Rise and Fall of the Irish Nation,
Memoirs of Ireland, and Personal Sketches of his own
Times ; the last being at once an autobiography and an
assemblage of contemporaneous portraits.
These Personal Sketches were, at the period of their
publication, what would now be called a sensational
book. They referred to so many events and so many persons
of note that they were sought for by all polite society.
The author was at the time himself a notability, and too
much so for his own rest. He had held a high post ; had
been intimate with the foremost men of his period ; and,
strange to say, difficult and perUous as it was, he was
trusted by both sides. It has been supposed that he
acted a second Leonard M'Nally, but there is no proof
of this, except indeed what may be derived by a mis
interpretation of his position. In the literal sense it
was impossible ; for he was not engaged in the trials
at aU. His hostility to the proposed measure of the Union
was decided ; yet he became the channel of corruption to

xxx MEMOIR.

others who resisted government, and actually bought over
one at least. This he admits in his Rise and Fall of the
Irish Nation. To defend such laxity of principle is im
possible, for his conduct shows that he was a Mr. Secretary
Cooke ; a good tool for a tjrrant, as James I. said of Sir
Francis Bacon. It does not foUow, however, that he acted
M'Nally's part. The English reader requires to be told
something of this person. M'Nally was a smart barrister
in 1798, and was famous with the movement party by
the warmth of his zeal in public and private. When the
causes ceUhres came on he was selected by the un
fortunates as counsel for defence. As such, he became
possessed of secrets of the highest importance to the
accused. These he betrayed to the crown-prosecutors,
and thus dipped his hands in the blood of bosom friends
for £300 a-year. The blood curdles at such relations.
He was an able, vulgar, subtle man. Magan was
paid merely to set and hang his friend Lord Edward
Fitzgerald. M'NaUy was paid to defend those who
trusted in him most, was also paid by their political
foes to hang them, and earned his fee and reno\^Ti
both ways.
Sir Jonah Barrington bought a Mend for the minister,
but I cannot find any grounds of suspicion that he ever
sold one. On the contrary, he did a good deal to save
some, as we shall see in these Sketches, which in particu
lars of the kind are reliable.
Sir Jonah Barrington in these pages teUs his own
history very minutely and facetiously. There are a few
points on which he is reserved, as he had reason to be.
He had ten brothers, of whom he mentions but four.
The rest dwindled into obscurity by the decay of his

MEMOIE. XXxi
house,^- which was one of some condition in the Queen's
County, where they had obtained considerable settlements
in the time of Elizabeth. Of his impeachment for malver
sation in the High Court of Admiralty in Ireland I shaU
have to speak at the close. His relations are now of great
interest, for he recalls a period of vital importance, and
is a sincere painter of the manners of a people into whom
the statesmen of England are examining with laudable
curiosity and interest. His style is gossiping but piquant.
Many parts of the first editions would now be utterly
trivial, and some offensive ; these have been retrenched,
not only in deference to an improved feeUng, but to suit
the better judgment of the times. Besides, a mere reprint
would be forty years in arrear. What I have added has
been derived from personal acquaintance with the con
temporaries of some of the parties mentioned by the
author. The anecdotes are genuine, being simply selected
from my private memoranda.
The publishers have spared no trouble or expense in
placing at my command whatever was thought neces
sary to insure the interest and value of this edition, so
as to make it such a contribution to literature and political
history as may stand the test of a fair criticism.
The gaiety of Barrington's life plunged him into em
barrassment, from which he sought relief by many strata
gems, such as are recorded of Sheridan and his son, but
more dangerous. How he extricated his plate from
Stevenson, a pawnbroker, by asking him to dine with
the grandees, and mortgaged his official salary, sunk
¦* The estate of Cullenaghmore was sold to Sir John Parnell, and by him to
Lord Norbury. The mansion is now a ruin; and the "fighting" Harringtons
are no more heard of.

XXXU MEMOIE.
three times over, to one ColUns, a saddler, are famUiar
stories in DubUn, but of no public interest.
Notwithstanding his wide mixture with society, he
cultivated letters with much success if not dUigence. No
man of his time has left better evidence that, although
he was not a powerful orator, he was adroit in composi
tion of that peculiar kind which Johnson brought into
repute, and Burke and Grattan spoke — glittering indeed,
but in them with the light of genius. It has had many
imitators, but its value depends on the inteUect that
supplies the materials and adjusts the ornaments. To
iUustrate fair literary power, I shaU select from the Rise
and Fall of the Irish Nation a passage not of his very
florid kind, but of a sort more in keeping with genuine
good writing, making allowance for some inaccuracies of
phrase. It will show that the Sketches were thrown off
as such, by the hands of an ancient master.
" The public characters of the Bishop of Derry and his
more moderate rival were so extremely dissimilar, and
their composition so totally repugnant, that any amalga
mation of sentiment was utterly impossible. A cautious
attachment to regularity and order, a sincere love for the
people, a polished courtly respect for the aristocracy, with
a degree of popular ambition and a proportion of indi
vidual vanities, were the governing principles of Lord
Charlemont during the whole of his political conduct
But, unfortunately, these were accompanied by a strong
taint of that religious intolerance which has since been
proved the interruption of Irish tranquillity.
" No man in Ireland could do the honours of a review
better ; and though his personal courage was undoubted,'
no man in Ireland was likely to do the duties of a battle

MEMOIR. XXXIU
worse, than Lord Charlemont. He guessed the extent of
his own powers, and sedulously avoided any situation to
which they might prove inadequate. If the people had
not respected his virtues, they would not have submitted
to his weakness ; and if he had not loved the people, he
would not have sacrificed his tranquUUty to command
them. He was an excellent nurse, tender of the consti
tution, but dreading every effective remedy prescribed
for its disorders.
" Lord Charlemont saw clearly that the presidency of
the National Convention was of vital consequence to the
country, and the master-key of his own importance. He
had his Uttle as weU as his great feeUngs, and both were
set into action by this dilemma. He knew full weU that
if the bold and enterprising prelate were at the head of
the Convention, he would lose aU weight with the govern
ment and aU influence with the people. The measure
was altogether too strong for the character of Lord
Charlemont : he knew he would be incapable of governing
this body if it once got into any leading-strings but his
own ; and it was obvious that if his Lordship should get
one step beyond his depth, he never could regain his
position. His friends, therefore, anticipated every means
to ensure his nomination to the presidency. And the
Bishop of Derry, before he was aware that there would
be any effectual opposition to himself, found Lord Charle
mont actually placed in that situation, where he might
restrain, if not counteract, the -ultra energies of the re
forming party. This was the very step the government
desired; Earl Charlemont might be managed, but the
Bishop of Derry would have been intractable. Lord
Charlemont involuntarUy became the tool of Govern-
VOL. I. c

XXXIV MEMOIE.

ment, whUst he fancied he was labouring m the service
of the people. From this moment the neutraUsing
system, by which its president wished to conduct that
assembly, became obvious. Everybody might foresee
that, not only the Convention, but perhaps the Volunteer
Associations, were Ukely to drop.
" Many sensible men had apprehended that the bishop's
politics might be too strong ; the very act of his attach
ing himself to Ireland, proved at once their vigour and
eccentricity ; and hence the presidency of the Convention,
in every point of view, became a measure of extreme
importance. " A few of the members of the House of Commons had
declined their election to the Convention, but some of the
ablest and most respectable members performed their
duties alternately in both assemblies. The Lord-Lieu
tenant and his Privy Council at the same time held their
sittings at the Castle, exactly midway between the two
ParUaments. They received alternate reports from each,
and undecided whether the strong or the passive system
were least, or rather most, fraught with danger, they at
length wisely adopted their accustomed course, and
determined to take advantage of the chance of division,
and of the moderation, ductility, and pride of Lord
Charlemont. " It was artfully insinuated to Lord Charlemont,
by the friends of Government, that the peace of the
country was considered to be in his hands, and that
he had accepted a situation of the most responsible
nature, and that if he did not possess sufficient influence
to curb the Convention he ought at once to resign
the trust, and thereby give the Parliament a ground

MEMOIR. XXXV
of requiring the immediate dissolution of its unconstitu
tional rival.
"Lord Charlemont found himself in a situation of
great embarrassment. If he held the presidency, he was
responsible for having countenanced the organisation of
the assembly. The bishop would succeed him in his
chair, and he would still be considered the inceptive
promoter of whatever might be adopted by his successor.
Lord Charlemont's pride resisted his resignation. He
was too high to be commanded ; he was too feeble to
control ; and he found himself in a state of great
perplexity. After some deliberation, he adopted the
suggestions of the courtiers, and was led blindfold to
that deceptions course, which might answer his tranquil
objects for the moment, but was beneath his character,
and which must eventually have extinguished all the
popular influence of the Volunteers, and have destroyed
that of the country. In fact, he lost himself, he sacrificed
his country, and determined on a line of proceeding
entirely unworthy of his former conduct. If he could
not govern, he resolved to temporise, divide, neutralise,
and dissolve the assembly."
This, it must be observed, is not a candid estimate of
Charlemont. Grattan, who of all others knew him best,
has transmitted to us a deliberate, unqualified, and ardent
eulogium on " the good and gracious Earl."
The advantages of birth, a pleasing countenance, a
lively conversation, cultivated talents, and a pushing
activity, contributed largely to Barrington's rapid strides
in public Ufe. Called to the bar in 1787, he was made
K.C. in 1793, and Judge of the AdmUalty in 1798. He
was retumed to ParUament for the borough of Tuam in

MEMOIR.

1792. He lost this seat *in 1798 ; but sat for Banagher
in 1799, till he witnessed the extinction of the Irish
legislature ; against which he boldly recorded a vote that
deprived him of a lucrative sinecure, and put a stop to
his preferment. *
The most remarkable event of Sir Jonah's life was the
address of both Houses to the crown in 1830, praying for
his removal from office. The Commissioners of Inquiry
into the Courts of Justice in Ireland discovered that, in
1805-1806 and 1810, he had appropriated monies which
had come into his hands by his own adjudication in
certain derelict cases. The Nancy derelict was the first
of these cases, and evidence was given that two sums
amounting to £682 : 8 : 8 disappeared. In 1810, Janu
ary 12, it was proved that the marshal of his court re
ceived £200 in the case of another derelict, paid into
the registry of said court, and not accounted for, but in
this way. By order of the judge, the registrar paid
into Newcomen's bank the said sum to the account of Sir
Jonah. This was daring dealing with public funds.
The event immediately connected with his departure
from Ireland was this: — At foot of a petition of a
salvager, Mr. H. Pyne Masters, dated 29th May 1810,
he signed an order for payment of £40. MeanwhUe, he
wrote to Masters requesting that he would not press his
order for two months. Masters complied; SU Jonah,
under this and other pressure, fled, and was not able to
retrieve his disasters. The commissioners and the Govern
ment gave him several chances of clearing himself, but
all the evidence was against him ; for the registrar was
substantiated by the judge's own handwriting.
In this state of affairs a select committee was ap -

MEMOIR. XXXVli
pointed to review the report of the commissioners ; and
the House resolved that Sir Jonah Barrington has been
guilty of serious malversation in the discharge of his
office of Judge of the High Court of Admiralty, and
that it is unfit, and would be of bad example, that
he should continue to hold said office. He was heard
by counsel at the bar of the House. The defence was
able, but mostly technical. It was contended that the
attaching of a judge by committee exposed his inde
pendence to the minister. The answer was — If the
Commons have not the discretionary privilege of ex
amining into the conduct of a judge, the very inde
pendence of a judge may become a nuisance and a moral
infliction. Sir Robert Wilson's proposition, that Sir Jonah Bar
rington be caUed to the bar to state what was the nature
of the evidence he wished to produce in abatement, had
only the support of four members. Sir R., then Mr.
Secretary Peel, pushed the business forward, and the
address for removal was carried. The Lords agreed with
little reluctance, and Sir Jonah ended a gay, bright,
prodigal life in exUe in 1832. He raised a name to be
the butt of many a worse man. He has left sentences,
even pages, full of generous sentiments, never deficient
in humanity, often resplendent with virtue.
Nevertheless what deplorable inconsistency in his
conduct ! Rather than vote for the Union he resisted all
temptations, and sacrificed the lucrative office of Ship-
entries. Yet he did not disdain to act Government-broker
with Mr. J. Bingham, to whom he was deputed to ascer
tain his price. He never fails to extol good principles
and generous actions ; yet does not hesitate to supply

xxxvill MEMOIR.

necessities, created by imprudence, by discreditable, prac
tices. For his shortcomings he paid a bitter penalty in
exile, solitude, and self-reproach. He sought consolation
in his natural temperament, and in literary employment ;
and to this we are indebted for those curious Sketches,
and their abundant hUarity and facetiousness.

PEESONAL SKETCHES

SIR JONAH BARRINGTON'S
PERSONAL SKETCHES.

MY FAMILY CONNECTIONS.
I WAS bom at Knapton, near Abbeyleix, in the Queen's County,
at that time the seat of my father, but now of Sir George Pigott.
I am the third son and fourth child of John Barrington, who
had himself neither brother nor sister ; and at the period of my
birth, my immediate connections were thus circumstanced.
My family, by ancient patents, by marriages, and by inherit
ance from their ancestors, possessed very extensive landed estates
ia Queen's County, and had almost unlimited iafluence over its
population, returning two members to the Irish Parliament for
BaHynakni, then a close borough.
Cullenaghmore, the mansion where my ancestors had resided
from the reign of James the Pirst, was then occupied by my
grandfather. Colonel Jonah Barrington. He adopted me at my
birth, brought me to his mansion, and I resided with him until
his death.
The Great House, as CuUenaghmore was called, exhibited an
uncouth mass, at war with every rule of architecture. The ori
ginal castle had been demolished, and its materials converted to
worse purposes. The front of the edifice which succeeded was
particularly ungraceful : a Saracen's head, which was our crest,
in coloured brick-work, was its only ornament ; some of the
apartments were waiascotted with brown oak, others with red
deal, and some not at all. The walls of the large hall were
decked, as is customary, with fishing-rods, fire-arms, stags' horns,
foxes' brushes, powder-flasks, shot-pouches, nets, and dog-collars ;
VOL. I. B

2 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
here and there relieved by the extended skin of a kite or a king
fisher, nailed up in the vanity of their destroyers : that of a
monstrous eagle, which impressed itself indehbly on my mind,
surmounted the chimney-piece, accompanied by a card announc
ing the name of its slaughterer — "Alexander Barrington" —
who, not being a rich relation, was subsequently entertained ia
the Great House two years, as a comphment for his present. A
large parlour on each side of the haU, the only embeUishments
of which were some old portraits, and a multipHcity of hunting,
shooting, and racing prints, -with red tape naded round them by
way of frames, completed the reception-rooms. I was the only
child in the house, and an inquisitive brat I was.
I remained here tdl I was nine years old ; I had no play
fellows to take off my attention from whatever I observed or was
taught ; and so strongly do my early impressions remain, that
even at this long distance of time I fancy I can see the entire
place as it stood then, with its old inhabitants vi-vidly mo-ving
before me.
The library was a gloomy closet, and rather scantdy furnished
with everything but dust and cobwebs. There were neither
chairs nor tables. I recollect many of the principal books, be
cause I read such of them as I could comprehend or found
amusing ; and looked over all the prints in them a hundred
times. These prints, which I took delight in copying, made an
indehble impression upon me ; and hence I feel confident of the
utdity of embeUishments in books intended for the instruction
or amusement of children. I had many of the books long after
my grandfather's death, and have some of them stdl. From my
earhest days I felt an insatiable passion for reading, and it has
occupied the greater proportion of my later life. Gulhver's
Travels, Robinson Crusoe, Fairy Tales, and The History of the
Bible, were my favourite authors. I beheved every word except
the fairies, and was not entirely sceptical as to those good
people. I fancy there was then but little variety in the libraries of
most country gentlemen ; and I mention, as a curiosity, the

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 3
foUo'wing volumes, several of which, as aheady stated, I retained
many years after my grandfather and grandmother died : — The
Journals of the House of Commons ; Clarendon's History ; The
Spectator and- Guardian ; Killing no Murder ; The Patriot King ;
Bailey's Dictionary ; some of S-wift's Works ; George Falkner's
Newspapers ; Quintus Curtius in Enghsh ; Bishop Burnet ; A
Treatise on Tar-water, by some bishop ; * Robinson Crusoe ;
Hudibras ; History of the Bible, in foho ; Nelson's Fasts and
Feasts ; Fairy Tales ; The History of Peter Wilkins ; Glums and
Gouries ; somebody's Justice of Peace ; and a midtiplicity of
Farriery, Sporting, and Gardening Books, etc., which I lost
piecemeal, when making room for law-books — ^probably not half
so good, but much more experimental.
In those days very few mirrors adorned the houses of the
country gentlemen. At my grandfather's a couple or three
shaving-glasses for the gentlemen, and a couple of pretty large
dressing-glasses, in Mack frames, for the ladies' use, composed
nearly the entire stock of reflectors ; except tubs of spring
water, which answered for the maid-servants.
A large and productive, but not neatly dressed-up, garden
adjoined the house. The whitewashed stone images ; the broad
flights of steps up and do-wn ; the terraces, with the round fish
pond — ^gave an impressive variety to this garden which I shall
ever remember, as weU as many curious incidents which I wit
nessed therein.
At the Great House aU disputes amongst the tenants were
in those days settled — quarrels reconcded — old debts arbitrated :
a kind Irish landlord reigned despotic in the ardent affections of
the tenantry, whose pride and pleasure it was to obey and
support him.
But there existed a happy reciprocity of interests. The
landlord of that period protected the tenant by his influence ; a
wanton injury to the latter being considered as an insult to his
* The celebrated Dr. George Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, whose paradox of
the non-existence of matter still keeps his memory alive. His " Alciphron, or
the Minute Philosopher, " and other works, are fast falling into forgetfiilness.

4 barrington's personal SKETCHES
lord. If one of the landlord's sons were grown up, no tune was
lost by him in demanding satisfaction from any gentleman for
maltreating even his father's blacksmith.
No gentleman of this degree ever distrained a tenant for
rent :* indeed the parties appeared to be quite knit together.
The greatest abhorrence, however, prevaded as to tithe-proctors,
coupled with no great preddection for the clergy who employed
them. These latter certainly were, in principle and practice, the
real country tyrants of that day, and first caused the assembhng
of the White Boys.t
I have heard it often said that, at the time I speak of, every
estated gentleman in the Queen's County was 'hmumred by the
gout. I have since considered that its extraordinary prevalence
was not difficult to be accounted for, by the disproportionate
quantity of acid contained in theh seductive beverage caUed
rum-shrub — which was then universaUy drunk in quantities
nearly incredible, generaUy from supper-time tOl morning, by aU
country gentleman, as they said, to keep down their claretj
My grandfather could not refrain, and therefore suffered
much, — ^he piqued lumself on procuring, through the interest of
Batty Lodge, a Dublin fruiterer, the very first importation of
oranges and lemons to the Irish capital every season. Horseloads
of these, packed in boxes, were immediately sent to the Great
House of CuUenaghmore ; and no sooner did they arrive, than
the good news of fresh fruit was commuiucated to the Colonel's
neighbouring friends, accompanied by the usual in-vitation.
* strange as this sounds no-w, it is almost an absolute fact. I recollect a
¦wealthy middle-man, -who was a large holder under the father of the present Lord
Fermoy, threatening his tenant with distraint in Mr. Roache's presence. " Jack,"
said the latter, " if you set a bad example it will be worse for us all in the end ;
and you and I are two for ever."
f The true origin of Whiteboyism was the general agi-icultural depression
which prevailed eighty years ago. Tithes were a source of vexation and discon
tent. It does not appear that the Whiteboys had any special object but retaUa-
tion and revenge.
X Happy times ! Claret is now kept out by the combined influence of thrift
and temperance. Drinking habits have ceased to be the reproach of the Irish
gentry— a fact worthy of the highest praise, and deserving commemoration.

of his own times. 5
Night after night the revel afforded uninterrupted pleasure
to the joyous gentry : the festivity being subsequently renewed
at some other mansion, tUl the Gout thought proper to put the
whole party hors de combat; ha-ving the satisfaction of making
cripples for a few months such as he did not kill.
WhUst the con-vivials beUowed -with the agonies of only toe
or finger, it was a mere bagateUe ; but when Mr. Gout marched
up the country, and invaded the head or the stomach, it was
then no Joke; and Drogheda usquebaugh,"' the hottest-distUled
hquor ever invented, was apphed to for aid, and generaUy drove
the tormentor in a few minutes to Ins former quarters. It was
counted a specific ; and I aUude to it the more particularly, as
my poor grandfather was finished thereby.
It was his custom to sit under a very large branching bay-
tree, in his arm-chair, placed in a fine sunny aspect at the entrance
of the garden. I kept his cloak for twelve years after his death :
it was caUed a cartoticTbe cloak, from a famous French robber who
invented it for his gang for the purposes of evasion. It was
made of very fine broadcloth, of a bright blue colour on one
side, and a bright scarlet on the other ; so that by turning it the
pursuer was easdy bewUdered.
There my grandfather used to sit of a hot sunny day, receive
any rents that came the way, and settle any accounts which his
indifference permitted him to think of.
At one time he suspected a young rogue of having sUpped
some money off his table when paying rent ; and therefore, when
afterwards the tenants began to count out their money, he used
to throw the focus of his large reading-glass upon their hands : —
the smart, -without any -visible cause, astonished the ignorant
creatures ! — ^they shook their hands, and thought it must be the
devil who was scorching them. The priest was let into the
secret : he seriously told them aU it was the de-vU, who had mis
taken them for the feUow that had stolen the money from the
colonel ; but that if he (the priest) was properly considered, he
* This lic[uor was in repute till about thirty years ago. Its high price put an
end to its consumption, though not to its character.

6 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
would say as many masses as would bother fifty devUs, were it
necessary. The priest got his fee ; and another farthing never
was taken from my grandfather.*
He was rather a short man, with a large red nose — strong
made ;t and wore an immense white wig, such as the portraits
give to Dr. Johnson. He died at eighty-six years of age, of
shrub-gout and usquebaugh, beloved and respected. I cried
heartUy for him ; and then became the favourite of my grand
mother, the best woman in the world, who went to reside in
Dublin, and prepare me for coUege.
Colonel John Barrington, my great-grandfather, for some
time before his death, and after I was born, resided at BaUyroan.
My grandfather having married Margaret, the daughter of Sh
John Byrne, Bart., had taken to the estates and mansion, and
gave an annuity to my great-grandfather, who died, one hundred
and four years old, of a fever, having never sho-wn any of the
usual decrepitudes of age. He was reputed the most respectable
man of my family, and sat for more than seventy years in par
liament. Sir John Byrne, Bart., my maternal great-grandfather, hved
at his old castle, Timogee, almost adjoining my grandfather
Barrington : his domains, close to StradbaUy, were nearly the
most beautiful in the Queen's County. On his decease, his
widow. Lady Dorothea Byrne, an Enghshwoman, whose name
had been Warren, I believe a grand-aunt to the late Lady
Brdkley, resided there tiU her death ; ha-ving pre-viously seen her
son give one of the first and most deeply to be regretted instances
of what is caUed forming English connections. Sh John Byrne,
my grand-uncle, having gone to England, married the heiress of
the Leycester famUy: — ^the very name of Ireland was then
odious to the Enghsh gentry ; and previous terms were made
-with him that his chUdren should take the cognomen of Ley-
* It is not certain that Sir Jonah has wilfully drawn the long 'bow here, as he
sometimes does obviously enough. He may have believed inthe ridiculous story,
for the march of intellect did not much interfere with the march of a droll exag
geration at the close of last centm-y.
t The man, it Is to be presumed, not the nose.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 7
cester, and drop that of Bjrrne ; that he should quit Ireland, seU
all his paternal estates there, and become an EngUshman. He
assented ; and the last Lord Shelburne purchased, for less than
hah their value, aU his fine estates, of which the Marquis of
Lansdowne is now the proprietor.
After the father's death the son became, of course. Sir Peter
Leycester, the predecessor of the present Sir John Fleming
Leycester : thus the famUy of Byrne, descended from a long Une
of Irish princes and chieftains, condescended to become Uttle
amongst the rank of EngUsh commoners ; and so ended the con
nection between the Byrnes and Barringtons.
My mother was the daughter of Patrick French of PetersweU,
county of Galway, wherein he had large estates : his wife, my
-grandmother, was one of the last remaining to the first house of
the ancient O'Briens. Her brother, my great-uncle, Donatus, also
emigrated to England, and died fifteen or sixteen years since at
his mansion, Blatherwick, in Cheshhe, in a species of voluntary
obscurity, inconsistent with his bhth and large fortune. He left
great hereditary estates in both countries to the enjoyment of his
mistress, excluding his family from aU claims upon the manor or
demesnes of their ancestors. The law enabled him to do what
justice and pride should have interdicted.
The anomaly of political principles among the Irish country
gentlemen at that period was very extraordinary. They professed
what they caUed unshaken loyalty,* and yet they were unqualified
partisans of CromweU and WilUam, two decided iisurpers — one of
them ha-ving dethroned his father-in-law, and the other decapi
tated his king.
The 5th of November was celebrated in DubUn for the pre
servation of a Scottish king from gunpowder : then the 30th of
January was much approved of by a great number of Irish, as
the anniversary of making his son, Charles the First, shorter by
* A great deal of this loyalty was founded in the traditions of confiscation,
Puritanism, and hate of popery. However tainted the origin, the principles were
sound enough for all public or party purposes. The consistency of its supporters
was of small importance to the House of Hanover.

8 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
the head ; and then the very same Irish celebrated the restoration
of Charles the Second, who was twice as bad as his father ; and
whUst they rejoiced in putting a crown upon the head of the son
of the king who could not quietly keep his o-wn head on, they
never faded to drink bumpers to the memory of Old Noll* who
had cut that long's head off. To conclude, in order to commemo
rate the whole story, and make their chUdren remember it, they
dressed up a fat calf's head on every anniversary of King Charles's
throat being cut, and with a smoked ham placed by the side of it, aU
parties partook thereof most happUy, washing down the emblem
and its accompaniment with as much claret as they could hold.
Having thus proved theh loyalty to James the Fhst, and
their attachment to his son's murderer, and then their loyalty to
one of his grandsons, to another of whom they were disloyal, they
next proceeded to celebrate the bhthday of WUUam of Orange,
a Dutchman, who turned their king, his father-in-law, out of the
country, and who, in aU probabUity, would have given the Irish
another caK's head for their celebration, if his said father-in-law
had not got out of the way with the utmost expedition, and gone
to Uve upon charity in France, with the natural enemies of the
British nation.
One part of the Irish people then invented a toast, caUed
" The glorious, pious, and immortal memory of WiUiam, the
Dutchman ;" whUst another raised a counter-toast, caUed " The
memory of the chestnut-horse," that broke the neck of the same
King WiUiam.t But in my mind (if I am to judge of past times
* Oliver has few, if any, admu'ers now in Ireland. He had the misfortune of
having been neither democrat, nor king, nor reformer. He propounded no scheme
of government, nor exhibited any principles of policy capable of assuring or deceiv
ing any individual or party. He could face danger, but could not support eminence.
His abilities, like those of almost all partisan soldiers, commanded success in
certain directions, but respect in none. In his whole character there is httle
admirable, except his affection for his family, his resoluteness, and early good
fortune. In Ireland his memory is abhorred by the great majority.
t King William's neck was not broken ; but it was said that he got a fall from a
chestnut horse, which hurt him inwardly, and hastened his dissolution. — {Author's
note). William '.s character has beer greatly mistaken, especially by his most zealous

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 9
by the corporation of Dublin) it was only to coin an excuse for
getting loyaUy drunk as often as possible that they were so
enthusiasticaUy fond of raaking sentiments, as they caUed them.
As to the poUtics of my famUy, we had, no doubt, some very
substantial reasons for being both CromweUians and WUUamites ;
the one confirmed our grants, and the other preserved them for
us : my famUy, indeed, had certainly not only those, but other
very special reasons to be pleased with King WiUiam. Though
he gave them nothing, what they had might have been lost but
for his usurpation.
During the short reign of James the Second in Ireland, those
who were not for him were considered to be against him, and of
course were subjected to the severities and confiscations usual in
aU ci-vU wars. Amongst the rest, my great-gTandfather, Colonel
John Barrington, being a Protestant, and having no predilection
for King James, was ousted from his mansion and estates at
CuUenaghmore by one O'Fagan, a Jacobite wig-maker and violent
partisan, from BaUynakiU. He was, notwithstanding, rather
respectfuUy treated, and was allowed forty pounds a-year so long
as he behaved himself
However, he only behaved weU for a couple of months ; at
the end of which time, with a party of his faithful tenants, he
surprised the wig-maker, cast him out of possession in his turn,
and reinstated himself in his mansion and property.
The -wig-maker, having escaped to DubUn, laid his complaint
before the authorities ; and a party of soldiers were ordered to make
short work of it, if the colonel did not submit on the first summons.
The party demanded entrance, but were refused ; and a little
firing from the -windows of the mansion took place. Not being,
however, tenable, it was successfuUy stormed: the old game-
admirers. He was an insulting enemy of the English Chm-ch, and there is strong
evidence of his ha-ving been, in principle, a friend of toleration and civU and reli
gious liberty. He violated the treaty of Limerick reluctantly. He bestowed his
uncle's property in Ireland on the infamous Countess of Orkney ; who, however,
was compeUed by parliament to disgorge the gift in favour of the Irish EstabUshed
Church. See Miss Strickland's Queens of England, and Townsend Young's History
of Ireland, reign of WUliam III.

10 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
keeper, John NevUle, kUled, and my great-grandfather taken
prisoner, conveyed to the drum-head at Raheenduff, tried as a
rebel by a certain Comet M'Mahon, and_ in due form ordered to
be hanged in an hour.
At the appointed time, execution was pimctuaUyproceeded on ;
and so far as tying up the colonel to the cross-bar of his o-wn
gate, the sentence was actuaUy put in force. But at the moment
the first haul was given to elevate him, Ned Doran, a tenant of
the estate, who was a trooper in King James's army, rode up
to the gate — himself and horse in a state of complete exhaustion.
He saw with horror his landlord strung up, and exclaimed, —
" HoUoa ! hoUoa 1 blood and ouns, boys 1 cut do-wn the
colonel ! cut down the colonel ! or ye'U be aU hanged yeerselves,
ye -vUlains of the world, ye ! I am straight from the Boyne
Water, through thick and thin ; ough, by the hokys ! we're aU
cut up and kUt. Jemmy's scampered, bad luck to him, -without
a ' good bye to yees !' "
My grandfather's hangmen lost no time in getting off, leaving
the colonel slung fast by the neck to the gate-posts. But Doran
soon cut him do-wn, and feU on his knees to beg pardon of his land
lord, the holy Virgin, and King WUUam from the Boyne Water.
Doran was ever after a faithful adherent. He was the grand
father of Lieutenant-colonel Doran, of the Irish brigade, after
wards, if I recoUect rightly, of the 47th regiment — the of&cer
who cut a German colonel's head clean off in the mess-room at
Lisbon, after dinner, with one shoe of his sabre. He dined -with
me repeatedly at Paris about six years since, and was the most
disfigured warrior that could possibly be imagined. When he
left CuUenagh for the Continent, in 1783, he was as fine a clever-
looking young farmer as could be seen ; but he had heen blown
up once or twice in storming batteries, which, -with a few gashes
across his features, and the obvious aid of numerous pipes of
wine, or something not weaker, had so spoUed his beauty, that
he had become absolutely frightful.
This occurrence of my great-grandfather fixed the pohtical
creed of my family. On the 1st of July the orange hly was

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 11
sure to garnish every window in the mansion : the hereditary
petereroes scarcely ceased cracking aU the evening, to glorify
the victory of the Boyne Water, tUl one of them burst, and kUled
the gardener's wife, who was tying an orange ribbon round the
mouth of it, which she had stopped for fear of accidents.*
The tenantry, though to a man Papists, and at that time
nearly in a state of slavery, joined heart and hand in these re
joicings, and forgot the -victory of their enemy whUe com
memorating the rescue of their landlord. A hundred times
have I heard the story repeated by the " Cotchers " (cottiers), as
they sat crouching on their hams, Uke Indians, around the big
turf fire. Their only lament was for the death of old John
NevUle, the gamekeeper. His name I should weU remember ;
for it was his grandson's wife, Debby Clarke, who nursed me.
This class of stories and incidents was weU calculated to
make indeUble impressions on the mind of a chUd. The old
people of Ireland, Uke the Asiatics, took the greatest dehght in
repeating theh legendary tales to the chUdren. By constant re
petition their old stories became hereditary, and I dare say
neither gained nor lost a sentence in the recital for a couple of
hundred years. The massacres of Queen EUzabeth were quite
famiUar to them ; and by an ancient custom of everybody
thro-wing a stone on the spot where any celebrated murder had
been committed, upon a certain day every year, it is wonderful
what mounds were raised in numerous places, which no person,
but such as were famUiar -with the customs of the poor creatures,
would ever be able to account for.f
* It is evident that a useful operation may be performed here ; but if such
little extravagancies were amputated, the features of the text would be too much
interfered -with. The sjmunetry would be improved, but the quaintness, the
Irish reUsh, somewhat impaired.
+ The custom of adding a stone to the heap indicating the scene of a murder
has long since disappeared. It was specially exercised on the anniversary of the
deed, but the passers-by may have increased the heap at any time. There is no
reason to think that those little accumulations were the progeny of the gi-eat
Pagan cairns ; but were simple memorials of a sanguinary event, whose enormity
deserved to be perpetuated ; or, perhaps, intended as a sort of cenotaph, for I have
seen some surmounted by a small wooden cross.

12 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES

ELIZABETH FITZGERALD.
A GREAT-AUNT of mine, Elizabeth Fitzgerald, whose husband,
Stephen, possessed the castle of Moret, near BaUy-Brittis and
not very far fram CuUenagh, did not fare quite so weU as my
great-grandfather before mentioned.
She and her husband held their castle firmly during the
troubles. They had forty good warders ; their local enemies
had no cannon, and but few muskets. The warders, protected
by the battlements, pelted their adversaries -wdth large stones
when they ventured to approach the waUs ; and in front of each
of that description of castles there was a hole right over the
entrance, wherefrom every species of defensive material could
be dropped upon assaUants.
About the year 1690, when Ireland was in a state of great
disorder, and no laws were reaUy regarded, numerous factious
bodies were formed in every part of the country, to claim old
rights and seize upon estates under legal pretences.
My uncle and aunt, or rather my aimt and uncle, for she
was said to be far the most effective of the two, at one time
suffered the enemy (who were of the O'CahUs, and claimed my
uncle's property, out of which they said Queen Ehzabeth had
turned them) to approach the gate in the night time. As there
were neither outworks nor wet fosse, the assaUants brought fire
to consume the gate. My aunt, aware of then designs, drew her
warders to one spot, heaps of great stones being ready to their
hands at the top of the castle.
When the O'CahUs had got close to the gate, and were
directly under the loop-hole, on a sudden streams of boUing
water, heated in the castle coppers, came showering do-wn upon
their heads. This extinguished the fire and crueUy scalded
many of the besiegers.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 13
The multitude fled ; but whilst one part of the warders
hurled voUeys of weighty stones beyond the fugitives, to deter
them from retreating, another party dropped stones more
ponderous stiU on the heads of those who crouched close under
the castle-walls. The lady of the castle meantime, -with aU her
maids, assisted the chief body of the warders in pelting the
Jacobites with destructive missUes tUl aU seemed pretty stdl ;
but wherever a groan was heard a voUey quickly ended the
troubles of the sufferer.
The old traditionists often told me that at daybreak there
were lying above one hundred of the assailants under the castle-
walls — some scalded, some battered to pieces, and many badly
lamed. My good aunt kindly ordered them aU to be put out of
misery as fast as ropes and a long gallows could perform that
piece of humanity.
After the victory the warders had a feast on the castle-top,
whereat each of them recounted his own feats. Squire Fitz
gerald, a quiet easy man, who hated fighting, and who had told
my aimt at the beginning that they would surely kUl him, ha-ving
seated himself aU night under one of the parapets, was quite de-
hghted when the fray was over. He had walked into his garden
outside the waUs to take some tranquU ah, when an ambuscade
of the truculent enemy surrounded and carried him off. In vain
his warders saUied — the squire was gone past aU redemption !
It was supposed he had paid his debts to Nature — if any
he owed* — ^when, next day, a large body of the O'CahU faction
appeared near the castle. Theh force was too great to be
attacked by the warders, who durst not saUy ; and the former
assault had been too calamitous, to the O'CahUs to warrant
them in attempting another. Both were therefore standing at
bay, when, to the great joy of the garrison. Squire Fitzgerald
was produced, and one of the assaUants, with a white cloth on a
pike, advanced to parley.
The lady attended his proposals, which were very laconic.
" I'm a truce, lady ! — Look here (showing the terrified squire)
* If this be a joke, it is a dead dull one.

14 barrington's PERSONAL SKETCHES
we have your husband in hoidt — yee's have yeer castle sure
enough. Now we'U change, if you please ; we'U render the squhe
and you'U render the keep ; and if yee's won't do that same, the
squhe -wiU be throttled before your two eyes in half-an-hour."
"Flag of truce!" said the heroine, with due dignity and
without hesitation ; " mark the words of Elizabeth Fitzgerald of
Moret Castle : they may serve for your own wife upon some
future occasion. Flag of truce ! I worbt render my keep, and
I'U teU you why — EUzabeth Fitzgerald may get another
husband, but EUzabeth Fitzgerald may never get another
castle ; so I'U keep what I have, and if you can't get off faster
than your legs can readUy carry you, my warders wUl try which
is hardest, your skuU or a stouebuUet."
The O'CahUs kept theh word, and old Squire Stephen Fitz
gerald, in a short time, was seen dangling and performing various
evolutions in the ah, to the great amusement of the Jacobites,
the mortification of the warders, and chagrin, not, however,
-without a mixture of consolation, of my great-aunt EUzabeth.
This magnanimous lady, after Squire Stephen had been cut
down, waked, and deposited in a neighbouring garden, conceived
that she might enjoy her castle with tranquUUty : but, to guard
against mischances, she replenished her lapidary ; had a -wide
trench dug before the castle-gate ; and pit-faUs, covered -with
green sods, having sharp stakes driven -within, scattered round
it on every side — the passage through them being only kno-wn
to the faithful warders. She contrived, besides, a species of de
fence that I have not seen mentioned in the Peccata Hibemia,*
or any of the murderous annals of Ireland. It consisted of a
hea-vy beam of wood, weU loaded with iron at the bottom, and
suspended by a puUey and cord at the top of the castle. This
could be let down through the projecting hole over the entrance,
whereby the assaUants coidd be pounded, as with a pestle and
mortar, -without the power of resistance on theh part.
The castle-vaults were well victuaUed ; and as the enemy
* Is this a humorous blunder or a typographical error, for the Pacata
Hihernia, Ii-eland Appeased, etc., by Sir George Carew.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 15
had none of those despotic engines caUed cannon, my aunt's
garrison was in tolerable security. Indeed, fortunately for
EUzabeth, there was not a single piece of ordnance tn the
country, except the few mounted in the Fort of DunnaUy ; and,
moreover, there was not sufficient gunpowder among the people
to hold an hour's hard fighting.
With such defences, EUzabeth imagined herself weU armed
against aU marauders, and quietly awaited a change of times
and a period of general security.
Close to the castle there was, and I beUeve stUl remains, a
dribbling stream of water, tn which there is a large stone with a
deep indenture on the top. It was always fuU of limpid water,
and called St. Bridget's WeU, — that holy woman having been
accustomed daUy to kneel tn prayer on one knee, till she wore a
hole in the granite.
To this weU old Jug Ogie, the oldest piece of furniture in
Moret Castle, who was an hereditary cook, daUy went for the pur
pose of dra-wing the sacred crystal to boU her mistress's dinner.
On one of these saUies of old Jug, some feUows (who, as it
afterwards appeared, had -with a very deep design lain in ambush)
seized and were carrying her ofi^, when they were perceived by
one of the watchmen from the tower, who instantly gave an
alarm, and some warders saUied after them. Jug was rescued,
and the enemy fled through the swamps ; but not before one of
them had his head di-vided into two equal parts by the hatchet
of Keeran Karry, who was always at the head of the warders,
and the Ufe and sord of the whole garrison.
The dead man turned out to be a son of Andrew M'Mahon,
a faction-man of Reuben ; but nobody could then guess the
motive for endeavouring to carry off old Jug. However, that
matter soon became developed.
EUzabeth was accounted to be very rich, and had a large de
mesne into the bargata. Ha-ving acquired a taste for the sweets
of independence, she refused many matrimonial offers ; but the
country squires determined she should marry one of them, since
marry wiUingly she would not. Almost every one of them had

16 barrington's PERSONAL SKETCHES
previously put the question to her by flag of truce, as they aU
stood in too much awe of the lady to do it personaUy : and at
length, teased by their importunities, she gave notice of her in
tention to hang the next flag of truce who brought proposals.
Upon this information, they finaUy agreed to decide by lot
who should be the hero to sui-prise and carry off EUzabeth,
which was considered a matter of danger on account of the
warders, who would receive no other commandment.
Elizabeth got wind of their design and place of meeting,
which was to be in the old castle of Reuben, near Athy.
Eleven or twelve of the squires privately attended at the
appointed hour, and it was determined that whoever should be
the lucky winner was to receive the aid and assistance of the
others tn bearing away the prize, and gaining her hand. To this
effect, a league offensive and defensive was entered into between
them — one part of which went to destroy Elizabeth's warders
root and branch ; and, to forward theh object, it was deshable, if
possible, to procure some inmate of the castle who, by fan or
foul means, would inform them of the best mode of entry : this
caused the attempt to carry off old Jug Ogie.
However, they were not long in want of a spy : for Ehzabeth,
hearing of theh plan from the gassoon* of Reuben (a nephew of
Jug's), determined to take advantage of it. "My Lady," said
Jug Ogie, " pretend to turn me adrift in a dark night, and give
out that my gassoon here was found robbing you — they'd soon
get wind of it, and I'U be the very person the squhes want — and
then you'U hear aU."
The matter was agreed on, and old Jug Ogie and the gassoon
were turned out, as thieves, to the great surprise of the warders
and the country. But Jug was found and hhed, as she expected ;
and soon comfortably seated in the kitchen at Castle Reuben,
with the gassoon, whom she took in as kitchen-boy. She gave
her tongue its fuU fling, — told a hundred stories about her "devU
of a mistress," — and undertook to inform the squhes of the best
way to get to her apartment.
¦• Or gorsoon, a gi-own boy or lad ; the same as garfon in French.

of his own times. 17
Elizabeth was now sure to learn everything so soon as deter
mined on. The faction had arranged aU matters for the capture : —
the night of its execution approached : — the old cook prepared a
good supper for the quahty — the squires arrived, and the gassoon
had to run only three mUes to give the lady the inteUigence.
Twelve cavaUers attended, each accompanied by one of the ablest
of his faction, for they were aU afraid of each other whenever
the wine should rise upwards.
The lots, being formed of straws of different lengths, were
held by the host, who was disinterested, and the person of EUza
beth, her fortune, and Moret Castle, fell to the lot of Cromarty
O'Moore, one of the Cremorgan squhes. The rest aU swore to
assist him tUl death ; and one in the morning was the time ap
pointed for the surprise of EUzabeth and her castle. Meantime
they sat down to enjoy the good supper prepared by old Jug
Ogie. Castle Reuben had been one of the strongest places in the
county", situated in the midst of a swamp, which rendered it nearly
inaccessible. It had belonged to a natural son of one of the
Geraldines, who had his throat cut by a gamekeeper of his own.
Nobody choosing to interfere with the sportsman, he remained
peaceably in possession of the castle, and now accommodated the
squhes -with it for a rendezvous.
The heroic dame, on her part, was not inactive ; she informed
her warders of the scheme to force a new master on her and them ;
and many a round oath she swore that she would preserve her
castle and her chastity to the last extremity.
The warders took fire at the attempt of the squhes to subju
gate theh lady and themselves to an irresponsible tyranny and
odious bondage.
"Arrah ! lady," said Keeran Karry, " how many rogues 'ill
there be at Reuben, as you larn, to-night? — arrah!"
" I hear only four-and-twenty," said Elizabeth, " besides the
M'Mahons." -AU then began to speak together, and join most heartily in
discussing the meditated attack.
vol. I. C

18 barrington's personal sketches
" Arrah ! run for the priest," says Ned Regan ; "may be you'd
Uke a touch of his reverence's office first, for fear there might be
any sin tn it."
" I thought you'd Uke him -with your brandy, warders," said
Elizabeth -with dignity ; " I have him below : he's praying a httle,
and -wUl be up dhectly. The whole plan is ready for you, and
Jug Ogie has the signal Here, Keeran," giving him a green
ribbon with a daub of old Squhe Fitzgerald, who was hanged,
dangling to the ribbon, " if you and the warders do not bring me
theh captain's ear, you have neither the courage of a weasel, nor
— nor" (striking her breast hard with her able hand) "even the
revenge of a woman in you."
" Arrah, be asy, my lady!" said Keeran, " be asy ! by my sowl,
we'U bring you four-and-twenty pah, if your ladyship have any
longing for the ears of such -vUlains."
" Now, warders," said EUzabeth, who was too cautious to leave
her castle totaUy unguarded, " as we are going to be just, let us
be also generous ; there's only twenty-four of them, besides the
M'Mahons, "wUl be there. Now it would be an eternal disgrace
to Moret, if we went to overpower them by numbers : twenty-
four chosen warders. Father Murphy and the corporal, the gassoon
and the piper, are aU that shaU leave the castle to-night ; and if
Castle Reuben is let to stand tUl daybreak to-morrow, I hope none
of you -wiU come back to me again."
The priest now made his appearance, and aU was in a bustle.
The brandy chculated merrUy, and each warder had in his o-wn
mind made mince-meat of three or four of the Reuben faction,
whose ears they fancied already in theh pockets. Every man
took his skeen in his belt — had a thick club, with a strong spike
at the end of it, slung with a stout leather thong to his wrist ;
and under his coat, a sharp, broad hatchet with a black blade and
a crooked handle. And thus, in sUence, the twenty-five Moret
warders set out with their priest, the piper, and the gassoon -with
a copper pot slung over his shoulders, and a piece of a poker in
his hand, on their expedition to the castle of Reuben.
Before twelve o'clock, the warders, the priest, Keeran Karry,

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 19
and the castle piper, had arrived in the utmost sUence and secrecy.
In that sort of large inhabited castle, the principal entrance was
through the farm-yard, which was, indeed, generaUy the only
assailable quarter. In the present instance, the gate was half
open, and the house-Ughts appeared to have been coUected in the
rear, as was judged from their reflection in the water of the Bar
row, which ran close under the windows. A noise was heard,
but not of drunkenness ; — it was a sound as of preparation for
battle. The warders foresaw it woidd not be so easy a business
as they had contemplated, and regretted that they had not
brought a more numerous force.
It was concerted that ten men should creep upon theh hands
and feet to the front entrance, and await there untU, by some
accident, it might be sufficiently open for the ferocious rush which
was to surprise theh opponents.
But Keeran, always discreet, had some forethought that more
than usual caution would be requisite. He had counted on
dangers which the others had never dreamt of, and his prudence,
ia aU probabiUty, saved the Uves of many of the warders. He
preceded his men, crawling nearly on his breast ; he had sus
pected that a dog overheard them, and a bark soon confirmed the
truth of that suspicion. Keeran, however, was prepared for this
chcumstance ; he had fiUed his pockets with pieces of bacon im
pregnated -with nux vomica. The savoury morsels took immediate
effect on two great mastiffs and a wolf-dog who roamed about the
yard at nights.
Keeran advanced crawling to the door ; he found it fast, but
having Ustened, he soon had reason to conjecture that the in
mates were too weU armed and numerous to make the result of
the battle at aU certain. He crept back to the hedge, and hav
ing informed the- warders of the situation in which they were
placed, they one and aU swore that they would enter or die. The
priest had lain down under a hay-stack in the outer hay-yard,
and the piper had rethed nobody knew where.
Keeran now desired the warders to handle theh hatchets, and
be prepared for an attack so soon as they should see the front

20 barrington's personal sketches
door open and hear three strokes on the copper kettle. The
gassoon had left that machine on a spot which he had described
near the gate, and Keeran requested that, in case they should see
fire, they should not mind it tUl the kettle sounded. He then
crawled away, and they saw no more of him.
The moments were precious. At one o'clock a body armed
possibly better than themselves, and probably more numerous,
would surely issue from the castle on theh road to Moret, -weU
prepared for combat. The result in such a case might be very
precarious. The warders by no means felt pleased -with theh
situation ; and the absence of theh leader, priest, and piper, gave
no additional sensations of conquest or security. In this state of
things near half-an-hour had elapsed, when of a sudden they
perceived, on the side of the hay-yard towards theh o-wn position,
a smaU blaze of fire issue from a corn-stack — in a moment an
other, and another ! The conflagration was impetuous ; it ap
peared to be devouring everything, but as yet was not perceived
by the inmates at the rear of the house. At length volumes of
flame Uluminated by reflection the waters of the river under the
back windows. The warders, now expecting the saUy, grasped
tightly their hatchets, yet moved not ; but breathless, with a
ferocious anxiety, awaited the event tn almost maddening sus
pense. A loud noise now issued from the interior of the house ;
the fire was perceived by the garrison-^stiU it might be accidental
— the front door was thro-wn open, and near thirty of the inmates
poured out, some fuUy, others not fuUy armed.
At that moment the copper kettle was beaten rapidly and
with force : a responsive sound issued from the house ; the
garrison hesitated, but hesitation was quicldy banished. On the
first blow of the kettle, the warders, in a compact body, with
hideous yells, rushed on the astonished garrison, as yet ignorant
as to who their enemies could be. Every hatchet found its vic
tim ; — ^limbs, features, hands, were chopped off without mercy-
death or dismemberment foUowed nearly every blow of that
brutal weapon, whilst the broad sharp skeens soon searched the
bodies of the wounded. Almost half the garrison was annihUated

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 21
before the foe was known. The survivors, however, soon learned
the cause of their comrades' slaughter. The war-cry of "A
Gerald ! — a Gerald ! — a Gerald !" — which now accompanied every
crash of the murderous hatchet, or every plunge of the broad-
bladed skeen, informed them with whom they were fighting.
Fifteen or sixteen of the garrison stiU remained unwounded, but
theh case was desperate. Keeran Karry now headed his warders.
The gassoon rapidly and fiercely struck the copper, in unison
vrith the sound of the fatal weapons, whUst the old and decrepid
Jug Ogie, -within the castle, repeated the same sound, thereby
leading the garrison to beUeve that to retreat inside the walls
would only be to encounter a fresh enemy.
The affah, however, was far from being finished : the sur
vivors rapidly rethed, and got in a body to the position first
occupied by Keeran's warders. They were desperate. The
flames stdl raged with irresistible fury in the hay-yard. It was
Keeran who had set fire to the com and hay, which materials
produced an almost supernatural conflagration. The remains of
the garrison were at once fortified, and concealed from -view, by
a high hoUy hedge, and awaited theh turn to become assaUants :
— ^it soon arrived. From the midst of the burning ricks in the
hay-yard a shriU and piercing cry was heard to issue, of " Ough,
murther — ^murther ! Holy Virgin, save me ! if there is any marey,
save me !" The voice was at once recognised by the warriors of
Moret as that of their priest, who had faUen asleep under a hay
stack, and never awakened tUl the flames had seized upon his
cloak. He knew not how to escape, being met, wherever he ran,
by crackUng masses. He roared to the fuU extent of Ins voice ;
and gave himself up for lost. Fortunately, as the materials of
his habit were Uttle combustible, he was not dangerously burned,
although he suffered somewhat in his legs. No sooner did they
perceive his situation, than the warders, each man forgetting
himself, rushed to save his reverence, whose services might be so
necessary to themselves. They now imagined that the fight was
ended, and prepared to enjoy themselves by the plunder of Castle
Reuben.

22 barrington's personal sketches
This was the moment for the defeated garrison : — with a loud
yeU of " A Moore ! a Moore ! a Moore !" they feU tn theh turn
upon the entangled warders hi the hay-yard, five of whom had
been wounded and one kUled in the first fray, whUst many had
subsequently thro-wn down their hatchets to receive theh pastor,
and had only their spikes and skeens where-with to defend them
selves. The battle now became more serious, because more
doubtful, than at its commencement. Several of the warders
were wounded, and four more lay dead at the entrance to the
hay-yard ; their sphit was dashed, and theh adversaries laid on
¦with the fury of desperation. Keeran Karry had received two
sword-thrusts through Ms shoulder and could fight no more;
but he could do better — ^he could command. He called to the
warders to retreat and take possession of the castle, which was
now untenanted. This step saved them ; they rethed thither
with aU possible rapidity, pursued by the former garrison, who,
however, were not able to enter with them. Keeran dhected the
thick planks and flagstones to be torn up, thereby lea-ving the
haU open to the ceUar beneath, as had been done at Moret. The
enemy were at bay at the door, and could not advance. On
the other hand, many of the warders ha-ving, as just stated,
flung away theh hatchets, were UI armed. The moment was
critical : Keeran, however, was never at a loss for some expe
dient ; he counted his men ; five had been kUled in the hay-
yard, and one just outside the walls ; several others were
wounded, amongst whom was the piper, who had been asleep.
Keeran told the warders that he feared the sun might rise on
their destruction, if something were not immediately done.
" Are there," said he, " five among ye, who are willing to swap
your Uves for the -victory?" Every man cried out for himself;
and I ! — I ! — I ! — echoed through the hall. " WeU ! " said Keeran,
who without delay dhected five men^ and the gassoon with the
copper kettle, to steal out at the back of the castle, creep through
the hedges, and get round directly into the rear of the foe before
they attacked ; having succeeded in which, they were imme
diately to advance beating the vessel strongly. " They wiU sup-

of his own times. 23
pose," said the warlike Keeran, " that it is a reinforcement, and
we shall then return the sound from -within. If they beUeve it
to be a reinforcement, they wtU submit to mercy : if not, we'U
attack them front and rear — and as our numbers are pretty
equal, very few of us on either side -wiU teU the story to our
chUder ! but we'U have as good a chance as them -viUains."
This scheme was carried into immediate execution, and com
pletely succeeded. The enemy, who were now grouped outside
the door, hearing the kettle in the rear, supposed that they
should be at once attacked by saUy and from behind. Thinking
that they had now only to choose between death and submission,
the mercy, which was offered, they accepted ; — and peep o' day
being arrived, the vanquished agreed to throw theh arms into
the weU, — ^to swear before the priest that they never would dis
turb, or aid in disturbing. Lady Elizabeth or the castle of Moret,
— ^that no man on either side should be called upon by law for
his fighting that night ; and finaUy, that the person who had
succeeded in drawing the lot for Elizabeth, should deUver up
the lock of his hair that grew next his ear to testify his submis
sion : this latter clause, however, was stipidated needlessly, as
Cromarty O'Moore was discovered tn the farm-yard, -with nearly
aU his face cut off, and several skeen-wounds in his arms and
body. Early in the morning the dead were buried without
noise or disturbance, and both parties breakfasted together in
perfect cordiality and good-humour : those who feU were mostly
tenants of the squhes. The yard was cleared of blood and
havoc ; the warders and garrison parted in perfect friendship ;
and the former retumed to the castle, bringing back Jug Ogie to
her impatient mistress. Of the warders, thirteen retumed safe ;
six remained behtad badly wounded, and six were dead. Kee
ran's wounds were severe, but they soon healed ; and EUzabeth
afterwards resided at Moret to a very late period hi the reign of
George the Fhst. Reuben soon changed its occupant, M'Mahon,
who was hanged for the murder of his master ; and that part of
the coimtry has since become one of the most ci-\dUsed of the
whole province.

24 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
I have given the foregoing Uttle history ia full, inasmuch as
it is but little known, is strictly matter of fact, and exhibits a
curious picture of the state of Irish society and manners in or
about the year 1690.*
* The last paragraphs of this contest are one of the greatest curiosities of litera
ture, ancient or modern ; but on that very account totaUy unworthy of being re
printed. Of the possibiUty of the event at the period, there needs be no dispute.
The country was totally unsettled ; and, to decide possession, appeals to force
were not uncommon.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 25

IRISH GENTRY AND THEIR RETAINERS.
The numerous and remarkable instances which came within my
own observation, of mutual attachment between the Irish
peasantry and theh landlords in former times, would fiU volumes.
A few -wUl suffice, in addition to what has already been stated,
to show the nature of that reciprocal good-wUl which, on many
occasions, was singularly useful to both ; and tn selecting these
instances from such as occurred in my own famUy, I neither mean
to play the vain egotist, nor to determine generals by particulars ;
since good landlords and attached peasantry were then spread
over the enthe face of Ireland, and bore a great proportion to the
whole country.
A very extensive field of corn of my father's had once become
too ripe, inasmuch as aU the reapers in the country were em
ployed in getting in their own scanty crops. Some of the ser
vants had heard my father regret that he could not by possibihty
get in his reapers without taking them from these Uttle crops,
and that he would sooner lose his own.
This field was within fuU view of our windows. My father
had given up the idea of being able to cut his com in time. One
morning when he rose he looked — rubbed his eyes — caUed the
servants, and asked them if they saw anything odd in the field.
They certainly did. On our famUy retiring to rest the night
before, the whole body of the peasantry of the country, after their
hard labour during the day, had come upon the great field, and
had reaped and stacked it before dawn ! Similar instances of
affection repeatedly took place. No tenant on any of the estates
of my famUy was ever distrained, or even pressed, for rent. The
only individuals who annoyed them were the parsons, by their
proctors, and the tax-gatherers for hearth-money ; and though

26 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
hard cash was scant with both landlord and tenant, and no smaU
bank-notes had got into chculation, provisions were plentiful,
and but Uttle inconvenience was experienced by the peasantry
from want of a circulating medium. There was constant resi
dence and work, no banks and no machinery ; and though the
people might not be quite so refined, most undoubtedly they
were vastly happier.*
But a much more characteristic proof than the foregoing of
the extraordinary devotion of the lower to the higher orders ia
Ireland, in former times, occurred in my famUy, and is on
record. My grandfather, Mr. French of County Galway, was a remark
ably smaU, nice httle man, but of an extremely irritable temper
ament, an exceUent swordsman, and, Uke aU Galway gentlemen,
proud to excess.
Some reUcs of feudal arrogance frequently set the neighbours
and theh adherents together by the ears. My grandfather had
conceived a contempt for, and antipathy to, a sturdy 'hcdf-
mounted gentleman, one Mr. Dennis Bodkin, who entertained an
equal aversion to the arrogance of my grandfather, and took every
possible opportunity of irritating and opposing him.
My grandmother, an O'Brien, was high and proud, steady
and sensible, but disposed to be rather -violent at times in her
contempts and animosities, and enthely agreed with her husband
in his detestation of Mr. Denius Bodkin.
* These observations may be disputed. Barrington, however, may be true in the
main. The amount of money deposited to the credit of a few, even the general
appearance of better clothing, etc. , cannot be taken as decisive of increased private
happiness or pubUc prosperity. If steam and notes had had never an existence,
happiness would not be one whit the less within the attainment of industry and
simpler agencies. That part of bosom happiness which depends on morality has
certainly been diminished by machinery. Banks and machines contribute to the
augmentation of national wealth ; but we know very well that the greatest amount
of pauperism has for a long period co-existed with enormous riches. The whole
question must be stxrdied in two distinct branches — the tendency of machines to
increase employment on the one hand, and to diminish it on the other hand.
Two things are certain : we cannot stay mechanical inventions ; and the conquest
of civilisation will be achieved hy them.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 27
On some occasion or other Mr. Dennis had chagrined the
squhe and his lady most outrageously. A large company dined
at my grandfather's, and my grandmother concluded her abuse
of Dennis -with an energetic expression that could not have been
UteraUy meant, in these words, — " I -wish the feUow's ears were
cut off! that might quiet him."
This passed over as usual : the subject was changed, and all
went on comfortably tUl supper ; at which time, when everybody
was hi fuU glee, the old butler, Ned Regan, who had drank
enough, came tn — joy was hi his eye — and whispering something
to his mistress which she did not comprehend, he put a large
snuff-box into her hand. Fancying it was some whim of her old
domestic, she opened the box and shook out its contents ; when,
lo ! a considerable portion of a pah of bloody ears dropped on the
table! Nothing could surpass the horror and surprise of the
company. Old Ned exclaimed, — " Sure, my lady, you wished
that Dennis Bodkin's ears were cut off ; so I told old Gahagan
(the gamekeeper), and he took a few boys -with him, and brought
back Dennis Bodkin's ears — and there they are ; and I hope you
are plazed, my lady !"
The scene may be imaghied ; — but its results had like to have
been of a more serious nature. The sportsman and the boys
were ordered to get off as fast as they coidd ; but my grandfather
and grandmother were held to heavy baU, and were tried at the
ensuing assizes at Galway. The evidence of the enthe company,
however, united in proving that my grandmother never had an
idea of any such order, and that it was a mistake on the part of
the servants. They were, of course, acquitted. The sportsman
never reappeared in the county ttU after the death of Dennis
Bodkin, which took place three years subsequently.
This anecdote may give the reader an idea of the devotion of
servants in those days to their masters. The order of things is
now reversed, and the change of times cannot be better proved
than by the propensity servants now have to rob (and, if couvct
nient, murder*) the famUies from whom they derive their daUy
* Here Barrington seems as thoughtless and extravagant as his grandmother.

28 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
bread. Where the remote error Ues, I know not, but certainly
the ancient fidehty of domestics seems to be totaUy out of fashion
with those gentry at present.
A more recent instance of the devotion of the country people
to old settlers and famUies occurred to myself, which, as I am
upon the subject, I wUl now mention I stood a contested elec
tion, in the year 1790, for the borough of BaUynakiU, for which
my ancestors had retumed two members to Parhament durhig
nearly 200 years. It was usurped by the Marquis of Drogheda,
and I contested it.
On the day of the election, my eldest brother and myself
being candidates, and the business preparing to begin, a cry -was
heard that the whole coUiery was coming down from Donane,
about ten mUes off. The returning officer, Mr. French, lost no
time : six voters were poUed against me ; mine were refused
generaUy, in mass ; the books were repacked and the poU de
clared ; the election ended, and my opponents just rething from
the town, when seven or eight hundred coUiers entered it -with
colours flying and pipers playing ; theh faces were aU blackened,
and a more tremendous assemblage was scarce ever seen. After
the usual shoutings, etc., the chief captain came up to me —
"CounseUor, dear!" said he, "we're aU come from Donane to
help your honour against the -viUains that oppose you ; — we're
the boys that can tittivate!* — Barrington for ever! hurra !" Then
coming close to me, and lowering his tone, he added, — " Coun
seUor, jewel ! which of the viUains shaU we settle first ?"
To quiet him, I shook his black hand, told Inm nobody should
be hurt, and that the gentlemen had all left the town.
He could have witnessed nothing, heard of nothing, in the whole course of his life,
which could justify such a, saying. The general fidelity of servants, in all ages
and climes, is an honour to human nature. The existence of so much virtue in
humble life is a proud boast in those times, when domestics are exposed to so
many changes of masters, and their affections so little appreciated. Discoursing
on this subject with the late amiable Lord Massareene, he assured me that nothing
in the history of mankind struck him with more admiration than the fidelity of
domestics, in spite of all discouragement.
¦* Still used in genteel slang, in ths sense of adorning, decking out with nicety.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 29
" Why then, counseUor," said he, " we'll be after overtaking
them. Barrington for ever ! — Donane, boys !"
I feared that I had no control over the riotous humour of the
coUiers, and knew but one mode of keeping them quiet. I de-
shed BiUy Howard, the innkeeper, to bring out aU the ale he
had ; and having procured many barrels in addition, together
with aU the bread and cheese tn the place, I set them at it as
hard as might be. I told them I was sure of being elected in
Dublin, and " to stay asy" (their o-wn language) ; and in a httle
time I made them as tractable as lambs. They made a bonfire
in the evening, and about ten o'clock I left them as happy and
merry a set of coUiers as ever existed. Such as were able
stroUed back in the night, and the others next morning, and not
the shghtest injury was done to anybody or anything.
This was a totaUy unexpected and voluntary proof of the
disinterested and ardent a.ttachment of the Irish country people
to all who they thought would protect or procure them justice.

30 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES

MY EDUCATION.
My godfathers were Mr. Pool of Ballyfin and Captain Pigott of
Brocologh Park ; and I must have been a very pleasant infant,
for Mr. Pool, ha-ving no chUdren, deshed to take me home -with
him, in which case I should probably have cut out of feather a
very good person and a very kind friend — the present Lord
Maryborough, whom Mr. Pool afterwards adopted whUst a mid
shipman in the na-vy, and bequeathed him a noble demesne and
a splendid estate near my father's. My famUy have always sup
ported Lord Maryborough for Queen's County, and his lordship's
tenants supported me in my hard-contested election for Mary
borough in 1800.
No pubhc functionary could act more laudably than Mr. Pool
did whUst secretary in Ireland ; and it must be a high gratifica
tion to him to reflect that, in the year 1800, he did not abet the
degradation of his country.
Captain Pigott expressed the same deshe to patronise me as
Mr. Pool ; — received a shnUar refusal, and left his property, I
beUeve, to a parcel of hospitals : whilst I was submitted to the
guardianship of Colonel Jonah Barrington, and the instructions
of Mr. Michael Lodge, a person of very considerable consequence
in my early memohs, and to whose ideas and eccentricities I
ready beUeve I am indebted for a great proportion of my own,
and certainly not the worst of them.
Mr. George Lodge had married a love-daughter of old Stephen
Fitzgerald, Esq. of BaUy Thomas, who, by affinity, was a relative
of the house of CuUenaghmore, and from this union sprang Mr.
Michael Lodge.
I never shaU forget his figure ! — he was a taU man with thin
legs and great hands, and was generaUy biting one of his naUs

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 31
whUst employed in teaching me. The top of his head was half
bald ; his hah was clubbed with a rose-ribbon ; a tight stock,
with a large sdver buclde to it behind, appeared to be almost
choking him : his chin and jaws were very long ; and he used to
hang his under jaw, shut one eye, and look up to the ceding,
when he was thinking or trying to recoUect anything.
Mr. Michael Lodge had been what is caUed a matross in the
artUlery service. My grandfather had got him made a gauger ;
but he was turned adrift for letting a poor man do something
-wrong about distilling.* He then became a land-surveyor and
architect for the farmers ; he coidd farry, cure cows of the mur
rain, had numerous secrets about cattle and physic, and was
accounted the best bleedef and bone-setter in that county : aU
of which healing accompUshments he exercised gratis. He was
also a famous brewer and accountant. In fine, he was every
thing at CuUenagh : steward, agent, caterer, farmer, sportsman,
secretary, clerk to the colonel as a magistrate, and also clerk to
Mr. Barret as the parson ; but he would not sing a stave in
church, though he'd chant tndefatigably in the hall. He had the
greatest contempt for women, and used to beat the maid-servants;
whUst the men durst not vex him, as he was quite despotic !
He had a turning-lathe, a number of grindtng-stones, and a car
penter's bench, in his room. He used to tin the sauce-pans,
which act he caUed chymistry ; and I have seen him, like a
taUor, putting a new cape to his riding-coat ! He made aU sorts
of nets, and knit stockings ; but above aU he piqued himself on
the variety and depth of his learning.
Under the tuition of this Mr. Michael Lodge, who was sur
named the " -wise man of CuUenaghmore," I was placed at four
years of age, to learn as much of the foregoing as he could teach
me in the next five years : at the exphation of which period he
had no doubt of my knowing as much as himseK, and then, he
said, I should go to school " to teach the master!'
This idea of teaching the master was the greatest possible
* The simple principle of composition violated in this sentence by the need
less and awkward change of case seems to have been long neglected.

32 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
incitement to me ; and as there was no other chUd in the house,
I never was idle, but was as inquisitive and troublesome as can
be imagined. Everything was explained to me ; and I not only
got on surprisingly, but my memory was found to be so strong,
that Mr. Michael Lodge told my grandfather half learning would
answer me as well as vihole learning would another chUd. In
truth, before my sixth year, I was making a very great hole in
Mr. Lodge's stock of information, fortffication and gunnery ex
cepted ; and I verUy beUeve he only began to learn many things
himself when he commenced teaching them to me.
He took me a regular course by horn-book, primer, speUing-
book, reading-made-easy, .^sop's Fables, etc. ; but I soon aspired
to such of the old library books as had pictures in them. Avery
large History of the Bible, with cuts, was my constant study.
Hence I learned how every saint was murdered ; and Mr. Lodge
not only told me that each martyr had a painter to take his Idle
ness before death, but also explained to me how they had aU sat
for theh pictures, and assured me that most of them had been
murdered by the Papists.
Mr. Michael Lodge zealously used his heart, head, and hands,
to teach me most things that he did know, and many things he
did not know ; but -with a skUl which none of our schoolmasters
practise, he made me think he was oidy amusing instead of giv
ing me a task. The old man tried to make me inquisitive, and
incUned to ask about the thing which he wished to explain to
me ; and, consequently,* at eight years old I could read prose
and poetry, write text, draw a house, a horse, and a game-cock,t
tin a copper saucepan, and turn my own tops. I could do the
manual exercise with my grandfather's crutch ; and had learnt,
besides, how to make buUets, pens, and black baU ; to dance a
jig, sing a cronane, and play the Jew's harp. Michael also
showed me, out of Scripture, how the world stood stock stiU
* This consequently is intended, no doubt, as a shade for the effulgent egotism.
After all, Sir Jonah Barrington boasts of little.
t "And the long bow," cried Counsellor Oulton as I was reading this place to
him many years ago.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 33
whilst the sun was gaUoping round it ; so that it was no easy
matter at coUege to satisfy me as to the Copernican system.
This course of education I most sedulously foUowed untU it
pleased God to suspend my learning by the death of my grand
father, on whom I doated. He had taught me the broadsword
exercise -with his cane, how to snap a pistol, and shoot with the
bow and arrow ; and had bespoken a little quarter-staff to perfect
me in that favourite exercise of his youth, by which he had been
enabled to knock a gentleman's brains out for a wager, on the
ridge of Maryborough, in company with the grandfather of the
present Judge Arthur Moore,* of the Common Pleas of Ireland.
It is a whimsical gratification to me to think that I do not at
this moment forget much of the said instruction which I received
either from Michael Lodge the Matross, or from Colonel Jonah
Barrington — though after a lapse of nearly sixty years !
A new scene was now to be opened to me. I was carried to
Dublia, and put to the famous schoolmaster of that day. Dr. BaU,
of St. Michael-a-PoweU's, Ship Street ; and here my puzzling
commenced in good earnest. I "was required to learn the English
Grammar in the Latin tongue ; and to translate languages with
out understanding any of them. I was taught prosody without
verse, and rhetoric without composition ; and before I had ever
heard any oration except a sermon, I was flogged for not mind
ing my emphasis in recitation. To complete my satisfaction, —
for fear I should be idle during the course of the week, castiga-
tion was regularly administered every Monday morning, to give
me, by anticipation, a sample of what the repetition-day might
produce!. * One of the famous band who opposed the Union in the Irish parliament.
He was a man of talent ; and outshone Grattan himself in that antithetical elo
quence which was so prevalent in his time. I asked him once his opinion of
Bully Egan, of whom I had heard so much, but read nothing : " He was an honest
man," replied the old judge ; "he had but one eye, like Polyphemus, which saw
straight ahead, Uke the barrel of a pistol. In genius, he was a tar-barrel, which
readily took fire and then smelt abominably. He was a bit of a comedian, but no
more comic than Lysaght."
t I saw or suffered as much whimsical and cruel discipline as any youth of my
VOL. I. D

34 barrington's personal sketches
However, not-withstanding aU this, .1 worked my way, got
two premiums, and at length was reported fit to be placed under
the hands of a private tutor, by whom I was to be finished for
the University.
That tutor was weU known many years in Digges Street,
Dublin, and cut a stiU more extraordmary figure than the Mat
ross. He was the Rev. Patrick Crawly, Rector of KUlgobbin,
My tutor's person was, in my imagination, of the same genus as
that of Caliban. His feet covered a considerable space of any
room wherein he stood, and his thumbs were so large that he
could scarcely hold a book without hiding more than hah the
page of it : — though bulky himself, his clothes doubled the
dimensions proper to suit his body ; and an immense frowzy
wig, powdered once a-week, covered a head which, for size and
form, might vie -with a quarter-cask.
Yet this was as good-hearted a parson as ever Uved : — afiec-
tionate, friendly, and, so far as Greek, Latin, Prosody, andEuchd
went, exceUed by few ; and under him I acquired, in one year,
more classical knowledge than I had done durhig the former
six. The college course at that time, though a very leamed one,
was iU arranged, pedantic, and totaUy out of sequence. Students
were examined in " Locke on the Human Understanding," before
theh own had arrived at the first stage of muturity ; and Euchd
was pressed upon their reason before any one of them could com
prehend a single problem. We were set to work at the most
abstruse sciences before we had weU digested the simpler ones,
and posed ourselves at optics, natural phUosophy, ethics, astro
nomy, mathematics, metaphysics, etc. etc., without the least
rehef from beUes-lettres, modern history, geography, or poetry ;
in short, without regard to any of those acquhements — the
classics excepted, winch form essential parts of a gentleman's
education.*
time, but never knew a Rhadamanthus whose scourge forestaUed delinquency. I
am sure that recourse was sometimes had to a fasciculus of nettles !
¦* Mr. Hutchinson, a later provost, father of Lord Donoughmore, went into the

OF HIS OWN times. 35
Nevertheless, I jogged on with bene for the classics, satis for
the sciences, and mediocriter for mathematics. I had, however,
the mortification of seeing the stupidest feUows I ever met, at
school or coUege, beat me out of the field in some of the exami
nations, and very justly obtain premiums for sciences which I
could not bring -within the scope of my comprehension.
My consolation is that many men of superior talent to my-
seH came off no better ; and I had the satisfaction of knowing
that some of the most erudite, studious, and distinguished of my
contemporary coUegians, went raving — and others melancholy —
mad ; and I do beheve that there are at this moment five or six
of the most eminent of my academic rivals roaring in asylums
for lunatics.*
opposite extreme ; a most excellent classic scholar himself, he wished to introduce
every elegant branch of erudition : — to cultivate the modern languages, — in short,
to adapt the course to the education of men of rank as weU as men of science.
The plan was 'most laudable, but was voted not monastic enough — indeed, a
poUshed gentleman would have operated like a ghost amongst those pedantic
fellows. Mr. Hutchinson went too far in proposing a riding-house. The scheme drew
furth from Dr. Duigenan a pamphlet caUed " Pranceriana," which turned the
project and projector into most consummate, but very coarse and iU-natured
ridicule. Doctor Barrett, late vice-provost, dining at the table of the new provost, who
lived in a style of elegance attempted by none of his predecessors, helped himself
to what he thought a peach, but which happened to be a shape made of ice. On
taking it into his mouth, never having tasted ice before, he supposed, from the
pang given to his teeth, and the shock which his tongue and mouth instantly re
ceived, that the sensation was produced by heat. Stilting up, therefore, he cried
out, swore he was scalded, and roared for an apothecary. [Sir Jonah would be
surprised to hear that the books of mathematics which stunned him would now
be regarded as rubbish by boys of fifteen in the Dublin University. To the pre
sent curriculum little is wanted but the encouraged cultivation of English. Not
derivations, not the hunting of archaisms, not grammatical analysis, not rheto
rical themes, constitute the teaching of EngUsh. These are but the garments of
a charming art sadly neglected, and but dimly perceived.]
• The tone of this passage is shocking ; but that it is not serious is easily dis
coverable. If it were, there woiild have been no need to have put ' ' satisfaction "
in italics. Again, the next paragraph is a generous one. What I blame Barring
ton for is, that he has faUen into the vulgar idea that " wit and madness nearly
are allied." The history of Uterature shows but one example— Tasso— of mental

36 barrington's personal sketches
When I seek amusement by tracing the fate of such of my
school and coUege friends as I can get information about, I find
that many of the most promising and conspicuous have met un
timely ends ; and that most of those men whose great talents
distinguished them first in the university and afterwards at the
bar, had entered, as sizers, for pro-vision as weU as for learning.
Indigence and genius were thus jointly concerned in their merited
elevation ; and I am convinced that the finest abihties are fre
quently buried aUve in affluence and in luxury.
The death of my grandmother, which now took place, made
a very considerable change in my situation, and I had sense
enough, though stUl very young, to see the necessity of turning
my mind towards a preparation for some lucrative profession —
either law, physic, divinity, or war.
I debated on aU these, as I thought, "with great impartiality :
— the pedantry of coUege disgusted me with clericals ; wooden
legs put me out of conceit "with warfare ; the horror of death made
me shudder at medicine ; and whUst the law was but a lottery-
trade, too precarious for my taste, manufacture was too humihat-
ing for my pride. Nothing, on the other hand, could induce me
to remain a walking gentleman ; and so, every occupation that I
could think of having its peculiar disqualification, I remained a
considerable time in a state of great uncertainty and disquietude.
Meanwhile, although my choice had nothing to do -with the
matter, I got almost imperceptibly engaged in that species of
profession exercised by a young sportsman, whereby I was ini
tiated into a number of accomplishments ten times worse than
the negative ones of the walking gentleman — namely, riding,
drinking, dancing, carousing, hunting, shooting, fishing, fighting,
racing, cock-fighting, etc. etc.
After my grandmother's deatih, as my father's country-house
was my home, so my two elder brothers became my tutors — the
disorder amongst men of high inteUectual endowments. I have had fifty times
the amount of opportunity that Barrington had to speak on this matter with some
authority, yet I have not to record a single instance of youthful genius blighted
by disease.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 37
rustics my precedents — and a newspaper my Uterature. How
ever, the foundation for my propensities had been too weU laid
to be easdy rooted up ; and though for a whUe I indulged in the
habits of those around me, I did not neglect the pursuits I had
been previously accustomed to. I had a pretty good assortment
of books of my own, and seldom passed a day -without devoting
some part of it to reading or letter--writing. I certainly some
what mis-spent, but cannot accuse myself of ha-ving lost, the
period I passed at Bladsfort, since I obtained there a fuU insight
into the manners, habits, and dispositions of the different classes
of the Irish, in situations and under circumstances which per
mitted nature to exhibit her traits without restraint or caution.
It is quite impossible I can give a better idea of the dissipa
tion of that period, into which I was thus plunged, than by
describing an incident I shaU never forget, and which occurred
very soon after my first entree into the sporting sphere.

38 barrington's personal sketches

IRISH DISSIPATION IN 1778.
Close to the kennel of my father's hounds he had buUt a smaU
cottage, which was occupied solely by an old huntsman, his
older vsdfe, and his nephew, a whipper-in. The chase, the
bottle, and the piper, were the enjoyments of -winter ; and
nothing could recompense a suspension of these enjoyments.
My elder brother, justly apprehending that the frost and
snow of Christmas inight probably prevent theh usual occupa
tion of the chase, determined to provide against any hstlessness
during the shut-up period, by an uninteri-upted match of -what
was caUed " hard going," tiU the weather should break up.
A hogshead of superior claret was therefore sent to the
cottage of old Quin the huntsman ; and a fat cow, killed, and
plundered of her skin, was hung up by the heels. AU the
windows were closed to keep out the Ught. One room, fiUed
-with straw and numerous blankets, was destined for a bed
chamber in common ; and another was prepared as a kitchen for
the use of the servants. Claret, cold, muUed, or buttered, was
to be the beverage for the whole company ; and in addition to
the cow above mentioned, chickens, bacon, and bread, were the
only admitted viands. WaUace and Hosey, my father's and my
brother's pipers, and Doyle, a bUnd but a famous fiddler, were
employed to enUven the banquet, which it was determined
should continue tiU the cow became a skeleton, and the claret
should be on its stoop.
My two elder brothers ; twp gentlemen of the name of
Taylor, one of them afterwards became a writer in India ; a Mr.
Barrington Lodge, a rough songster ; Frank Skelton, a jester and
a butt ; Jemmy Moffat, the most knowing sportsman of the
neighbourhood ; and two other sporting gentlemen of the

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 39
country ; — these composed the permanent bacchanalians. A
few visitors were occasionaUy admitted.
As for myself, I was too unseasoned to go through more than
the first ordeal, which was on a frosty St. Stephen's day, when
the "hard goers" partook of theh opening banquet, and several
neighbours were invited, to honour the commencement of what
they called their " shut-up pilgrimage."
The old huntsman was the only male attendant ; and his
ancient spouse, once a kitchen-maid in the famUy, now some
what resembUng the amiable Leonarda in Gd Bias, was the
cook ; whilst the drudgery feU to the lot of the whipper-in. A
long knife was prepared to cut coUops from the cow ; a large
turf fhe seemed to court the gridhon ; the pot bubbled up as if
proud of its contents, whilst plump white chickens floated hi
crowds upon the surface of the water ; the simmering potatoes,
just bursting theh drab surtouts, exposed the deUcate whiteness
of theh mealy bosoms ; the claret was tapped, and the long
earthen -wide-mouthed pitchers stood gaping under the impatient
cock, to receive their portions.
I shaU never forget the attraction this novelty had for my
youthful mind. All thoughts but those of good cheer were for
the time totaUy obUterated. A few curses were, it is true,
requisite to spur on old Leonarda's skUl, but at length the
banquet entered : the luscious smoked bacon, bedded on its
cabbage mattress, and partly obscured by its o-wn savoury steam,
might have tempted the most fastidious of epicures ; whdst the
round trussed chickens, ranged by the half-dozen on hot pewter
dishes, turned up their white plump merry-thoughts exciting
equaUy the eye and appetite ; fat coUops of the hanging cow,
shced indiscriminately from her tenderest points, grUled over
the clear embers upon a shining gridhon, haK-dro-wned in theh
own luscious juices, and garnished with httle pyramids of con-
geiual shalots, smoked at the bottom of the weU-fumished board.
A prologue of cherry-bounce (brandy) preceded the entertain
ment, which was enUvened by hob-nobs and joyous toasts.
Numerous toasts, in fact, as was customary in those days.

40 barrington's personal sketches
intervened to prolong and give zest to the repast — every man
shouted forth his fah favourite, or convivial pledge ; and each
voluntarUy surrendered a portion of his o-wn reason, in bumpers
to the beauty of his neighbour's toast. The pipers jerked from
theh bags appropriate plauxties to every joUy sentiment ; the
fiddler sawed his merriest jigs ; the old huntsman sounded his
horn, and thrusting his forefinger into his ear (to aid the
quaver), gave the view holloa ! of nearly ten minutes' duration ;
to which melody Tally ho ! was responded by every stentorian
voice. A fox's brush stuck into a candlestick, in the centre of
the table, was worshipped as a di-vinity !
My reason graduaUy began to Ughten me of its burden, and
in its last efforts kindly suggested the straw-chamber as my
asylum. Just as I was closing my eyes to a twelve hours'
slumber, I distinguished the general roar of "Stole away!" -which
rose almost up to the very roof of old Quia's cottage.
At noon, next day, a scene of a different nature was exhibited.
I found, on waking, two associates by my side, in as perfect ia-
sensibUity as that from which I had just aroused. Our piper
seemed indubitably dead ! but the fiddler, who had the pri-vdege
of age and bUndness, had taken a hearty nap, and seemed as
much aUve as ever.
The room of banquet had been re-arranged by the old -woman:
spitchcocked chickens, fried rashers, and broiled marrow-bones,
appeared struggling for precedence. The clean cloth looked,
itself, fresh and exciting ; jugs of mtdled and buttered claret
foamed hot upon the refurnished table, and a better or heartier
breakfast I never in my Ihe enjoyed.
A few members of the jovial crew had remained aU night at
theh posts ; but I suppose alternately took some rest, as they
seemed not at all affected by their repletion. Soap and hot
water restored at once their sphits and their persons ; and it
was determined that the rooms should be ventUated and cleared
out for a cock-fight, to pass time tUl the approach of dinner.
In this battle-royal every man backed his o-wn bird ; twelve
of which courageous animals were set down together to fight it

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 41
out — the survivor to gain aU. In point of principle, the battle
of the Horatii and Curiath was re-acted ; and in about an hour
one cock crowed out his triumph over the mangled body of his
last opponent ; — ^being himself, strange to say, but Uttle wounded.
The other eleven lay dead ; and to the victor was unanimously
voted a -writ of ease, with sole monarchy over the hen-roost for
the remainder of his days ; and I remember him, for many
years, the proud commandant of his poultry-yard and seraglio.
Fresh visitors were introduced each successive day, and the
seventh morning had arisen before the feast broke up. As that
day advanced, the cow was proclaimed to have funnshed her fuU
quantum of good dishes ; the claret was upon its stoop, and the
last gaUon, muUed -with a pound of spices, was drunk in tum
blers to the next merry meeting! All now rethed to their
natural rest, untd the evening announced a different scene.
An early supper, to be partaken of by aU the young folks, of
both sexes, in the neighbourhood, was provided in the dwelling-
house, to terminate the festi-vities. A dance, as usual, wound
up the entertainment ; and what was then termed a " raking
pot of tea," put a fiidshing stroke, in jolUty and good-humour, to
such a revel as I never saw before, and, I am sure, shaU never
see again.
When I compare with the foregoing the habits of the present
day, and see the grandsons of those joyous and vigorous sports
men mincing their fish and tit-bits at their favourite box in
Bond Street, amalgamating their ounce of salad on a sdver
saucer, employing six sauces to coax one appetite, burning up
the palate to make its enjoyments the more exquisite, sipping
their acid claret, disguised by an oUve or neutraUsed by a chest
nut ; Usping out for the scented waiter, and paying him the
price of a feast for the modicum of a Lilliputian, and the pay of
a captain for the attendance of a blackguard — it amuses me
extremely, and makes me speculate on what their forefathers
would have done to those admirable Epicenes, if they had had
them at the " Pilgrimage " in the huntsman's cot.
To these extremes of former roughness and modern affec-

42 barrington's personal sketches
tation, it would require the pen of such a writer as Fielding to
do ample justice. It may, however, afi'ord our reader some
diversion to trace the degrees which led from the grossness of
the former down to the effeminacy of the latter ; and these may,
in a great measure, be coUected from the various incidents which
wUl be found scattered throughout these sketches of sixty
annual orbits.
Nothing, indeed, can better iUustrate the sensation which the
grandfathers, or even aged fathers, of these sUm lads of the Bond
Street estabhshments, must have felt upon finding theh offspring
in the occupation I have just mentioned, than a story relating
to Captain Parsons Hoye of County Wicklow, who several years
since met with an instance of the kind at Hudson's, in Covent
Garden. A nephew of his, an effeminate young feUow, who had re
turned from travelling, and who expected to be his heh, acci-
dentaUy came into the coffee-room. Neither uncle nor nephew
knew each other ; but old Parsons' disgust at the dandified
manners, language, and dress of the youth, gave rise to an oc
currence which drew from the bluff seaman epithets rather too
coarse to record ; the end of it was, that, when Parsons dis
covered the relationship of the stranger, he struck him out of a
wUl which he had made, and died very soon after, as if on
purpose to mortify the macaroni !
We wiU take this opportunity of subjoining an accurate
description of the person of Captain Parsons Hoye, thereby
enabling our reader to estimate the singularity of his coUision
with the dandy.
Commodore Trunnion was a civUised man, and a beauty,
compared to Parsons Hoye. He had a moderate hereditary pro
perty near Wicklow ; had been a captain in the royal na-vy ;
was a bad farmer, a worse sportsman, and a blustering justice of
peace ; but great at potation ! and what was caUed, " in the
main, a capital feUow." He was nearly as boisterous as his
adopted element : his voice was always as if on the quarter-deck;
and the whistle of an old boatswain, who had been decapitated

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 43
by his side, hung as a memento, by a thong of leather, to his
¦waistcoat button-hole. It was frequently had recourse to, and,
whenever he wanted a word, suppUed the deficiency.
In form the Captain was squat, broad, and coarse. A large
purple nose, with a broad crimson chin to match, were the only
features of any consequence in his countenance, except a couple
of good enough bloodshot eyes, screened by most exuberant grizzle
eyelashes. His powdered "wig had behind it a queue in the
form of a handspike, and a couple of roUed-up paste curls, Uke
a pah of carronades, adorned its broad-sides ; a Mue coat, with
slash cuffs and plenty of na'vy buttons, surmounted a scarlet
waistcoat ; a black Barcelona adorned his neck ; and an old
round hat bordered -with gold lace, and turned up on one side,
-with a huge cockade stuck into a buttonless loop, gave him a
swaggering ah. He bore a shUlelagh, the growth of his own
estate, in a fist which would cover more ground than the best
shoulder of wether mutton in a London market.* Yet the
Captain had a look of generosity, good nature, benevolence, and
hospitality, which his features did their very best to conceal, and
which none but a good physiognomist could possibly discover.
* To tone do"wn passages of this kind would be entirely without the editorial
pro-vince. They must be preserved for their very extravagance.

44 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES

MY BROTHER'S HUNTING-LODGE.
I MET with a ludicrous instance of the dissipation of even later
days a few months after my marriage. Lady B  and myself
took a tour through some of the southern parts of Ireland, and
among other places visited Castle Durrow, near which place my
brother, Henry French Barrington, had budt a hunting cottage,
wherein he happened to have given a house-warming the pre
vious day.
The company, as might be expected at such a place and on
such an occasion, was not the most select : — in fact, they were
" hard-going " sportsmen.
Amongst the rest, Mr. Joseph KeUy, of unfortunate fate,
brother to Mr. Michael KeUy (who by-the-by does not say a
word about him in his Reminiscences), had been in-vited, to add
to the merriment by Ids pleasantry and voice, and had come
down from Dublin for the purpose.
It may not be amiss to say something here of that remark
able person. I knew him from his early youth. His father was
a dancing-master in Mary Street, Dublin ; and I found in the
newspapers of that period a number of puffs, in. French and
Enghsh, of Mr. O'Kelly's abilities in that way. What could put
it into his son's head that his father had been Master of the cere
monies at Dublin Castle is rather perplexing ! He became a
wine-merchant latterly, dropped the 0, and was a weU-conducted
and respectable man.*
Joe was a slender young man, remarkably handsome ; but,
¦with regard to character, al-ways what in that part of the country
* But as he was a Roman Catholic, and as no Roman Catholic could then hold
any ofiice in the vice-regal establishment of DubUn Castle, Mr. M. Kelly must
bave been misinformed on that point as to his father, whom I have often seen. — (B.)

OF HIS O-WN TIMES. 45
they emphaticaUy styled " the devil .'" He sang the songs of
Young Meadows, in " Love in a VUlage," extremely weU, as like
wise those of Macheath and other parts ; but he could never give
the acting any effect. He was, strictly speaking, a bravura
singer ; — ^there was no pathos — nothing touchant in his cadences,
but in drinking-songs, etc., he was unrivalled. The last conver
sation I had with him was on the Boulevard ItaUen, in Paris.
I was walking with my son, then belonging to the 5th Dragoon
Guards. KeUy came up and spoke to us, but my son remained
sdent. KeUy seemed surprised, and said, " Don't you know me,
Barrington? why don't you speak to me?" — "'Tis because I do
know you that I do not speak to you," replied my son. KeUy
blushed, but turned it off with a laugh. I now know the sarcasm
well merited. Joe KeUy kiUed his man in a duel, for which he
was tried and narrowly escaped. According to his own account,
indeed, he kiUed plenty more men at the battle of Waterloo and
hi other actions. He was himself shot at Paris by a commissary
with whom he had quarreUed, and the humorists remarked there
upon that Joe had died a natural death.
Of this convivial assemblage at my brother's, he was, I
suppose, the very Ufe and soul. The dining-room had not been
finished when the day of the dinner-party arrived, and the lower
parts of the waUs having only that morning received their last
coat of plaster, were, of course, totaUy wet.
We had intended to surprise my brother ; but had not calcu
lated on the scene I was to -witness. It was about ten in the
morning ; the room was strewed -with empty bottles — some broken
— some interspersed -with glasses, plates, dishes, knives, spoons,
etc., aU in glorious confusion. Here and there were heaps of
bones, rehcs of the former day's entertainment, which the dogs,
seizing theh opportunity, had cleanly picked. Three or four of
the bacchanaUans lay fast asleep upon chahs ; one or two others
were on the floor, among whom a piper lay on his back, apparently
dead, with a table-cloth spread over him, and surrounded by four
or five candles, burnt to the sockets ; his chanter and bags were
laid scientificaUy across his body, his mouth was quite -open, and

46 barrington's personal sketches
his nose made ample amends for the silence of his di'one. Joe
KeUy and a Mr. Peter Alley were fast asleep in theh chahs,
close to the wall.
Had I never viewed such a scene before, it would have
almost terrified me ; but it was nothing more than the ordiaary
custom which we caUed waking the piper, when he had got too
drunk to make any more music.
,1 went out, and sent away my carriage and its inmate to
Castle Durrow, whence we had come, and afterwards proceeded
to seek my brother. No servant was to be seen, man or woman.
I went to the stables, wherein I found three or four more of the
goodly company, who had just been able to reach theh horses,
but were seized by Morpheus before they could mount them, and
so lay in the mangers awaiting a more favourable opportunity.
Returning hence to the cottage, I found my brother, also asleep,
on the only bed which it then afforded : he had no occasion to
put on his clothes, since he had never taken them off.
I next waked Dan Tyron, a wood-ranger of Lord Ashbrook,
who had acted as maltre d'hfitel in making the arrangements, and
pro-viding a horse-load of game to fiU up the banquet. I then
inspected the parlour, and insisted on breakfast. Dan Tyron set
to work : an old woman was caUed in from an adjoining cabin,
the windows were opened, the room cleared, the floor swept, the
relics removed, and the fire hghted in the kitchen. The piper
was taken away senseless, but my brother would not suffer either
Joe or Alley to be disturbed tiU breakfast was ready. After a
brief interval, we had before us eggs, mUk, brandy, sugar, nut
meg, a large loaf, fresh butter, a cold round of beef, red herrings,
a dish of potatoes roasted on the turf-ashes, ale, whisky, and
port. All being duly in order, we at length awakened Joe KeUy
and Peter -Alley, his neighbour : and my brother announced
breakfast with a view halloa ! *
¦* The author elongated this chapter with four tiresome pages, the pointless
absurdity of which I shaU condense, not so much to rewtu-d the reader's curiosity
as to give a lesson to the purveyors of Irish anecdotes. Joe and Peter, who had
fallen asleep in their chairs, are represented as having made a pUlow of the adja
cent wall, to which their heads were invited by a soft coat of mortar, laid on the

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 47
I ate a hearty breakfast, retumed to Durrow, and, having re
joined my companion, we pursued our journey to Waterford,- 
amusing ourselves the greater part of the way with the circum
stances of the carouse,* which, however, I do not record merely
as an abstract anecdote, but, as I observed in starting, to show
the manners and habits of Irish country society and sportsmen,
even so recently as thirty years ago ; and to iUustrate the changes
of those habits and manners, and the advances towards civilisa
tion, which, coupled with the extraordinary want of corresponding
prosperity, '\ present phenomena I am deshous of impressing upon
my reader's mind, throughout the whole of this misceUaneous
coUection of original anecdotes and observations.
same day. During the doze the noddles became imbedded in the cement, which
"set fast from the heat and lights of an eighteen hours' carousal." Hair being
the thing most calculated to amalgamate therewith, the entire of Joe's stoek,
together with his queue, and halfias head, was thoroughly imbedded in the greedy
cement. The effort to rise caused by the lusty summons to breakfast, drew forth
a roar of distress, which accompanied repeated struggles for extrication. The
assistance of a stone-cutter was proposed ; melted butter and new milk were tried
as solvents ; and, with equal want of success, Hannibal's recipe of hot vinegar.
At last Peter whetted two dinner-knives against each other, and "sawed away at
cross comers tiU he was liberated with the loss only of half of his hair and a piece
ofhis scalp." For Joe's relief Bob Casey, a-wig-maker, "just dropped in." How
fortunate ! " In less than an hour's clipping with his scissors and rooting out
¦with an oyster-knife," the skilful operator set Mr. KeUy at large, with "the ex
posure of a raw and bleeding occiput. "
Such were the -wild, incredible, and stupid stories which once passed for wit
or humour, and shocked no one's common sense. The taste for these things has
gra"vitated very much ; so that Herbert's Irish 'Varieties is no longer popular.
* As given in the last note.
t Ou this subject I think Sir Jonah's information must have heen imperfect,
and his views somewhat extreme. Forty years ago, when those " Sketches " first
appeared, the agricultural resources of the country were not nearly developed to
the extent shown by the last returns of the Registrar-General. But there then
existed a substantial and diffused prosperity, 'whose circumference has long been
narrowing round the absolute owners of the soil. This is an incontestable
fact, which admits of calm discussion, suggests charitable sentiments, and appeals
to the wisdom of aU honest statesmen. A desolate splendour, a wealth that
spreads no human bliss, dominion over paupers, empire without people — these are
melancholy and alarming contemplations ; let them be removed from our appre
hensions by a timely combination of goodwill, moderation, and inteUigence.

48 barrington's personal sketches

CHOICE OF PROFESSION.
My veering opinion as to a choice of profession was nearly
decided by that miUtary ardour which seized aU Ireland, when
the whole country had entered into resolutions to free itself for
ever from EngUsh domination. The enthe kingdom took up
arms — regiments were formed in every quarter — the highest,
the lowest, and the middle orders, aU entered the ranks of
freedom ; and every corporation, whether civU or military,
pledged Ufe and fortune to attain and estabhsh Irish inde
pendence. My father had raised and commanded two corps — a dragoon
regiment caUed the CuUenagh Rangers, and the BaUyroan Light
Infantry. My elder brother commanded the KUkenny Horse
and the. Durrow Light Dragoons. The general enthusiasm
caught me, and before I weU knew what I was about, I found
myself a mUitary martinet and a red-hot patriot. Ha'ving been
a university man, I was also considered to be of course a writer,
and was accordingly caUed on to draw up resolutions for
volunteer regiments aU over the country. This was the first
thade I ever attempted on a political subject; and it being quite
short enough and warm enough to be comprehended by aU the
parties, it was unanimously adopted — every man swearing, as
he kissed the blade of his sword, that he would adhere to these
resolutions to the last drop of his blood.
The national point was gained, but not -without much
difficulty and danger. The Irish parhament had refused to
grant supplies to the crovm for more than six months. The
people had entered into resolutions to prevent the importation
of British merchandise or manufactures. The entire kingdom
had disavowed all English authority or jurisdiction, external or

OF his own times. 49
internal ; judges and magistrates had declined to act under British
statutes ; the flame spread rapidly, and became hresistible.
The British Govemment saw that either temporising or an
appeal to force would occasion the flnal loss of Ireland — 150,000
independent soldiers, weU armed, weU clothed, and weU dis
ciplined, were not to be coped with ; and England yielded.
Thus the volunteers kept theh oaths, and did not lay down
their arms until the independence of Ireland had been pro
nounced from the throne.
Having carried our point with the English, and having'
proposed to prove our independence by going to war with
Portugal about our Unens, we completely set up for ourselves,
except that Ireland was bound, constitutionally and irrevocably,
never to have any king but the King of Great Britain.
We were now in a fighting mood ; and being in good
humour with England, determined to fight the French, who had
threatened to invade us. I recoUect a volunteer belonging to
one of my father's corps, a schoolmaster of the name of Beal,
proposing a resolution to the BaUyroan Infantry, which pur
ported "that they would never stop fighting the French tiU
they had flogged every man of them into mincemeat I" This
magnanimous resolution was adopted with cheers, and was, as
usual, sworn to, each hero kissing the muzzle of his musket.
I am not going further into a history of those times, to which
I have aUuded in order to mention what fixed my determination,
although but temporarUy, to adopt the mUitary profession.
On communicating this decision to my father, he procured
me, from a friend and neighbour. General Hunt Walsh, a
commission in that officer's own regiment, the 30th. The style
of the thing pleased me very weU ; but, upon being informed
that I should immediately join the regiment in America, my
heroic tendencies received a serious check. I had not contem
plated transatlantic emigration ; and, feeling that I could get
my head broken just as well in my own country, I perceived
my mihtary ardour grow cooler and cooler every hour, till it
was obviously defunct. I therefore wrote to the General a
VOL. I. E

60 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
thankful letter, at the same time " begging the favour of him to
present my commission in his regiment to some hardier soldier."
The General accepted my resignation, and presented my com
mission to a young friend of his, whose brains were blown out in
the very first engagement.
Having thus rejected the mUitary, I next turned my thoughts
to that very opposite profession — the clerical. But, though
preaching was certainly a much safer and more agreeable
employment than bush-fighting, yet a curacy and a wooden leg
being pretty much on a paraUel in point of remuneration, and
as I had the strongest objection to be haK-starved in the ser-vice
of either the king or the altar, I also decUned the cassock,
assuring my father that " I felt I was not steady enough to
make an ' exemplary parson.' "
Medicine, therefore, was the next in the Ust of professions
to which I had, abstractedly, some Uking. I had attended
several courses of anatomical lectures at Dublin, and, although
with some repugnant feelings, I had studied that most subUme
of aU sciences, human organisation, by a persevering attention
to the celebrated waxworks of that university. But my horror
and disgust of animal putridity in all its branches was so great,
inclusive even of ripe venison, that aU surgical practice by me
was necessarUy out of the question ; and medicine without
surgery presenting no better chance than a curacy, it shared an
equaUy bad fate with the sword and the pulpit.
Of the hberal aud leamed professions there now remained
but one— namely, the law. Now, as to this, I was told by
several old practitioners, who had rethed into the country from
having no business to do in to-wn, that h I was even as wise as
Alfred, or as leamed as Lycurgus, nobody would give me
sixpence for aU my law, if I had a hundredweight of it, untd I
had spent at least ten years in watching the manufacture.
However, they consoled me by saying that if I could put up
with Ught eating and water-drinking dmlng that period, I might
then have a reasonable chance of getting some briefs, particu
larly after ha-ving a gang of attorneys to dine with me. Here I

OF HIS OWrPT TIMES. 51
was damped again ! and though I should have broken my heart
if condemned to remain much longer a walking gentleman, I
determined to wait a whUe, and see if nature woidd open my
propensities a Uttle wider, and give me some more decisive
indication of what she thought me fittest for.
Whilst in this comfortless state of indecision, my father,
Uke other country gentlemen, to gratify his lady under the
shape of educating his chUdren, gave his consent to launch me
into the new scenes and pleasures of a city residence. He
accordingly purchased an exceUent house in Clare Street,
Merrion Square ; left a steward in the country to m-ismanage
his concerns there ; made up new wardrobes for the servants ;
got a fierce three-cocked hat for himself ; and removed his estab
lishment, the hounds excepted, to the metropoUs of Ireland.
Here my good and weU-bred mother (for such she was) had her
Galway pride revived and gratffied ; the green coach de cirimonie
was regdt and regarnished, aud four black horses, with two pos-
tOions and a sixteen-stone footman, completed her equipage.
I had my bit of blood iu the stable ; my elder brother, who
had been in the 1st Horse, had plenty of them. My father had
his old hunter, " Brown Jack ;" and we set out at what is
commonly caUed a great rate, but which great rates are generaUy,
like a fox-chase, more hot than durable. However, the thing
went on weU enough ; and durhig our city residence many
pleasurable and many whimsical incidents occurred to me and
other iadividuals of my famdy, one of which was most interest
ing to myself, and wiU form a leading feature in my subsequent
Memoirs. Before adverting to this, however, I ¦wiU mention a lament
able event which occurred, during our stay in Clare Street, to a
neighbour of ours. Captain O'Flaherty, brother to Sir John,
whom I shaU hereafter notice. The captain resided nearly
facing us ; and though the event I speak of, and the very extra
ordinary incident which succeeded it, are clearly digressions,
yet the whole story is so interesting, that I wdl, -without further
apology, introduce it.

52 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES

MURDER OF CAPTAIN O'FLAHERTY.
Captain O'Flaheety, a most respectable gentleman, resided in
Clare Street, DubUn, exactly opposite my father's house. He
had employed a person of the name of Lanegan, as tutor to the
late John Burke O'Flaherty and his brothers. But after some
Uttle time Lanegan became more attentive to Mrs. O'Flaherty,
the mother, than to her sons.
This woman had no charms either of appearance or address,
which might be thought calculated to captivate any one ; and
there was a something indescribably repulsive in her general
manners, in consequence whereof aU acquaintance between her
and our family soon terminated. Ha-ving encouraged Lanegan's
attentions, she determined on enjoying his society without re
straint. With this view she procured arsenic through her para
mour's agency.
The murderous scheme was carried into execution by Mrs.
O'Flaherty herself, and the captain was found dead in his bed !
Some misgivings, however, were generated from the appearance
of the body. A coroner's inquest was held, and the jury returned
a verdict oi poisoned by arsenic.
Mrs. O'Flaherty and Mr. Lanegan began now to suspect that
they were in rather a ticklish situation, and determined to take
a private journey into the country untd they shoidd discover
how things were Ukely to go. The adulterous wife, fuU of crime
and terror, conceived a suspicion that Lanegan, who had only
purchased the poison by her dhections, and had not administered
it, might turn king's evidence, get the reward, and save himself
by convicting her. Such a catastrophe she therefore determined
if possible to prevent.
On their journey she told him that, upon fuU consideration.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 53
she conceived there could be no possibUity of bringing conclusive
evidence against them, inasmuch as it would appear most pro
bable that the captain had, by accident, taken the poison himself
— and that she was determined to surrender and take her trial
as soon as possible, recommending Mr. Lanegan to do the same.
In pursuance of this decision, as they passed near the to-wn of
Gowrau, County Kilkenny, she said, " There is the gate of a
magistrate : do you go up first, put on a bold face, assure him of
your enthe innocence, and say that as infamous and false reports
have been spread, both of yourself and me, you came expressly to
surrender and take your trial ; — and that you could not live in
society under such vUe imputations ! Say, also, that you hear
Mrs. O'Flaherty intends likewise to surrender herself in the
evening, and request that he wiU be at home to receive her."
Lanegan, suspecting no fraud, foUowed these instructions
hteraUy ; — ^he was secured, though without roughness, and pre
parations were made for his being taken to Dublin next day in
custody. The magistrate waited for Mrs. O'Flaherty, but she
did not appear : he sent do-wn to his gate-house to know if any
lady had passed by : the porter informed him that a lady and
gentleman had been near the gate in a carriage, in the morning,
and that the gentleman got out and went up the avenue to the
house, after which the lady had driven away.
It now appearing that they had been actually together, and
that Lanegan had been teUing falsehoods respecting his com-
pauioa, strong suspicions arose in the mind of the magistrate.
His prisoner was confined more closely, sent under a strong
guard to Dubhn, indicted for murder, and tried at the ensuing
assizes. Positive evidence was given of Lanegan's criminal intercourse
¦with Mrs. O'Flaherty, coupled with the strongest circumstantial
proof against him. He had not the courage boldly to deny the
fact, and being found guUty was sentenced to be hanged and
quartered; the former part of which sentence having been carried
into execution, and his body cut on each Umb, it was delivered
up to his mother for burial Mrs. O'Flaherty escaped beyond

54 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
sea, and has, I beUeve, never since been heard of in the
country. Such is the history which forms a prelude to an occurrence
in which I was a party, several years after, and which may be
regarded as a cmious iUustration of stories of supposed ghosts.
A Templar and a friend of mine, Mr. Da-vid Lander, a soft,
fat, good-humoured superstitious young feUow, was sitting in his
lodgings, Devereux Court, London, one evening at twiUght. I
was -with him, and we were agreeably employed in eating straw
berries and drinking Madeira. WhUe thus chatting away in
cheerful mood, my back being towards the door, I perceived my
friend's colour suddenly change : his eyes seemed fixed and ready
to start out of his head ; his hps quivered con-vulsively ; his
teeth chattered ; large drops of perspiration flowed down his
forehead, and his hah stood nearly erect.
I naturaUy conceived my friend was seized with a fit, and
rose to assist him. He did not regard my movements in the
least, but seizing a knife which lay on the table, -with the gait
of a palsied man retreated backwards — his eyes stUl fixed — to
the distant part of the room, where he stood shivering, and at-
temptiag to pray ; but not at the moment recoUecting any
prayer, he began to repeat his catechism, thinking it the next
best thing he could do : a,s — " What is your name ? Da-vid
Lander ! Who gave you that name ? My godfathers and god
mothers in my baptism !"
I instantly concluded the man was mad ; and turning about
to go for some assistance, I was myseK not a Uttle startled at
sight of a taU, rough-looking personage, many days unshaved,
in a very shabby black dress, and altogether of the most uncouth
appearance. "Don't be frightened, Mr. Lander," said the figure; "sure
'tis me that's here."
When Davy Lander heard the voice, he feU on his knees,
and subsequently flat upon his face, in which position he lay
motionless. The spectre, as I now began to imagine it, stalked towards

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 55
the door, and I was in hopes he intended to make his exit
thereby ; instead of which, however, having deUberately shut and
bolted it, he sat himself down in the chah which I had pre-
-viously occupied, -with a countenance nearly as full of horror as
that of Davy Lander himself
I was now totaUy bewUdered ; and scarce knowing what to
do, was about to throw a jug of water over my friend, to revive
him if possible, when the stranger, in a harsh croaking voice,
cried —
"For the love of God, give me some of that — for I am
perishing !"
I accordingly did so, and he took the jug and drank immo
derately. My friend Da-vy now ventured to look up a Uttle, and per
ceiving that I was becoming so famUiar with the goblin, his
courage revived. He grew ashamed of his former terror, and
affected to be stout as a Uon ! though it was visible that he was
not yet at his ease. He now roared out, in the broad Kerry
dialect, — " Why then, blood and thunder ! is that you, Lane
gan?" " Ah, sh, speak easy," said the wretched being.
" How the devd," resumed Davy, " did you get your four
quarters stitched together again, after the hangman cut them off
of you at Stephen's Green !"
"Ah, gentlemen!" exclaimed the poor culprit, "speak low.
Have mercy on me. Master Davy : you know it was I taught
you your Latin. I'm star-ving to death !"
" You shaU not die in that way, you \dUanous schoolmaster !"
said Davy, pushing towards him a loaf of bread and a bottle of
wine that stood on the table.
The miserable creature having eaten the bread with avidity,
and drunk two or three glasses of wine, the lamp of life once
more seemed to brighten up. After a pause, he communicated
every chcumstance relating to his sudden appearance before us.
He confessed having bought the arsenic at the deshe of Mrs.
O'Flaherty, and was aware of her design. He then informed us,

56 barrington's personal sketches
that after being duly hanged, the sheriff had deUvered his body
to his mother, but not untU the executioner had given a cut on
each limb, to save the law ; which cuts bled profusely, and were
probably the means of preserving his life. His mother conceived
that the -vital spark was not extinct, and therefore had put him
into bed, dressed his wounded hmbs, and rubbed his neck -with
hot -vinegar. Having steadUy pursued this process, and accom
panied it by pouring warm brandy and water down his throat,
in the course of an hour he was quite sensible, but experienced
horrid pains for several weeks before his final recovery. His
mother fiUed the coffin he was brought home in with bricks, and
got some men to bury it the same night in KUmainham burial-
ground, as if ashamed to inter him in open day. For a long time
he was unable to depart, being every moment in dread of dis
covery. At length, however, he got off by night in a smuggling
boat, which landed him on the Isle of Man, and from thence he
contrived to reach London, bearing a letter from a priest at Kerry
to another priest who had hved in the Borough, the purport of
which was to get him admitted into a monastery in France. He
found the South wark priest was dead ; but recoUecting that Mr.
Lander, lus old scholar, lived somewhere in the Temple, he got
directed by a porter to the lodging.
My friend Da-vy suffered this poor devil to sit in the chamber
till the foUowing evening. He then procured him a place in the
night coach to Rye, from whence he got to St. VaUery, and was
received, as I afterwards learnt from a very grateful letter which
he sent to Lander, into the monastery of La Trappe, near Abbe-
vUle, where he lived in strict seclusion, and died some years
since. This incident is not related as a mere isolated anecdote,
unconnected -with any serious general considerations ; but rather
with a view to show how many deceptions a man's imagination
may hastUy subject him to ; and to impress the consideration,
that nothing should be regarded as supernatural which can by
possibility be the result of human interference.
In the present case, if Lanegan had withdrawn before Lander

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 57
had arisen and spoken to him, no reasoning upon earth could
ever have convinced the Templar of the materiality of the -vision.
As Lanegan's restoration to life after execution had not at that
time been spoken of, nor even suspected. Lander would have
wOUngly deposed, upon the Holy EvangeUsts, that he had seen
the actual ghost of the schoolmaster who had been hanged and
quartered in DubUn a considerable time before ; his identifica
tion of the man's person being rendered unequivocal from the
circumstance of his having been formerly Lanegan's pupd. And
I must confess, that I should myself have seen no reason to doubt
Lander's assertions, had the man withdrawn from the chamber
before he spoke to me — to do which, under the circumstances, it
was by no means improbable fear might have induced him.
Thus, one of the " best authenticated ghost stories ever
related" has been lost to the history of supernatural occurrences.
The chcumstance, however, did not cure Da-vy Lander in the
least of his dread of apparitions, which was excessive.
My relations, whilst I was a boy, took it into their heads
that I was a decided coward in this way. This I roundly denied,
but freely admitted my coyness with regard to trying supersti
tious experiments on AUhaUow-eve, or other mysterious days.
One AllhaUow-eve my father proposed to have a prayer-book,
with a £5 bank-note in it, left on a certain tombstone in an old
Cathohc burial-ground, two or three fields' distance from the
dweUing-house. The proposal was, that if I would go there at
twelve o'clock at night, and bring back the book and a dead man's
bone, many of which were scattered about the cemetery, the note
should be mine.
The matter was fuUy arranged. The night proved very dark ;
the path was intricate, but I was accustomed to it. There were
two or three stUes to be crossed ; and the Irish always conceive
that if a ghost is anywhere in the neighbourhood he invariably
chooses a stUe at which to waylay the passengers. At the
appointed hour I set out. Having groped for some time in the
dark, I found the book, but my hand at first refused to lift it.
By degrees I obtained a Uttle confidence, and I secured the book

58 barrington's personal sketches
snugly in my pocket, together with a dead man's thigh-bone,
which I tied up in a cloth brought with me for the purpose.
Having reached the house in triumph, and taken a large
tumbler of wine, I proceeded to exhibit my book, put the bank
note in my pocket, and, with an affectation of unconcern, untied
my cloth, and flung my huge bone upon the supper-table. I had
my fuU revenge. The women were crueUy shocked ; and aU,
una voce, set up a loud shriek. My courage now grew rampant ;
I said, if they pleased they might leave the bone on the top of
my bed tUl morning. We made merry tdl a late hour, when I
rethed joyously to bed ; and sleep very soon began to make stdl
further amends for my terrors.
Whde dreaming away most agTeeably, I was suddenly aroused
by a rustUng noise for which I could not account. I sat up, and,
upon Ustening, found it to proceed from the top of my bed,
whereon something was in rapid motion. The dead man's thigh
bone immediately started into my recoUection, and horrible ideas
flashed across my mind. A profuse persphation burst out at
once on my forehead, my hair rose, the cramp seized both my
legs, and just gathering power to caU out " Murder, murder !—
help, help !" I buried my head under the clothes. In this situ
ation, I could neither hear nor see, and was besides almost suffo
cated : after a whUe, I began to think I might have been dreamiag,
and with that idea, thrustiag my head fearfuUy out, the bone
(for that it certainly was) sprang with a tremendous crash from
the bed down beside me upon the floor, where it exhibited as
many signs of Ufe as when its owner was ia existence. I first
shook Uke a man ia an ague, and then dropped back, nearly
senseless, upon the pUlow.
How long I lay thus I know not ; I only remember that the
bone stUl continued its movements, and now and then striking
a chah or table, warned me of my probable fate from its justly
enraged proprietor. Had the scene contmued long, I actuaUy
beUeve I should scarce have survived h : but at last a loud laugh
at the door clearly announced that I had been weU played off
upon by the ladies, for my abrupt display of a dead man's bone

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 59
on a supper-table. The whole of the young folks entered my
room in a body, confessed the prank, and quickly restored my
senses and courage by a tumbler of buttered white wine.
The device was simple enough : a couple of cords had been
tied to the bone, and dra-wn under the door, which was at the
bed's foot ; and by pulUng these alternately, the conspirators
kept the bone in motion, until their good-humoured joke had
weU-nigh resulted in the loss of theh kinsman's reason."'
* This is an old story that may he heard over all Europe. It was familiar to
my childhood, long before its pubUcation here ; and I know it to be current in
Germany, France, Italy, and Greece.

60 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES

ADOPTION OF THE LAW.
My father stiU conceived that the miUtary profession was best
suited to my ardent and volatile sphit. I was myself, however,
of a different opinion ; and fortune shortly fixed my determina
tion. Au incident occurred, which, uniting passion, judgment,
and ambition, led me to decide that the Bar was the only road
to my happiness or celebrity ; and accordingly I ftnaUy resolved
that the law should be the future occupation of my Ufe and
studies. The recoUection of the incident to which I have aUuded ex
cites, even at this moment, aU the sensibdity and regret which
can sur-vive a grand cUmacteric, and four-and-forty years of -vicissi
tude. I shall not dUate upon it extensively ; and, in truth, were
it not that these personal fragments would be otherwise stdl
more incomplete, I should remain altogether sUent on a subject
which re-vives in my mind so many painful reflections.
My elder brother married the only daughter of Mr. Edwards,
of Old Court, County Wicklow. The indi-viduals of both famiUes
attended that marriage, which was indeed a pubhc one. The
bride-maid of Miss Edwards was the then admired Miss D. W.
This lady was about my own age : her father had been a senior
FeUow of DubUn University, and had rethed on large church
preferments. Her uncle, -wdth whom she was at that time re
siding, was a very eminent barrister in the Irish capital She
had but one sister, and I was soon brought to think she had no
equal whatever.
Those who read this -wiU perhaps anticipate a story of a
volatUe lad struck, in the midst of an inspiring ceremony, by the
beauty of a hvely and engaging female, and surrendering with
out resistance his boyish heart to the wild impiUse of the moment.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 61
This supposition is, I admit, a natural one ; but it is unfounded.
Neither beauty, nor giddy passion, nor the glare of studied at
tractions, ever enveloped me in their labyrinths. Nobody admired
female loveUness more than myself ; but beauty in tlu abstract
never excited -within me that delirium winch has so impartially
made fools of Idngs and beggars — of heroes and cowards ; and to
which the wisest professors of law, physic, and divinity, have
from time immemorial surrendered their hberty and their reason.
Regularity of feature is very distinct from expression of
countenance, which I never yet saw mere symmetry successfuUy
rival. I thank heaven that I never was either the captive or
the -victim of "perfect beauty ;" in fact, I never loved any hand
some woman save one, who stUl lives, and I hope wiU do so long :
those whom I admired most, when I was of an age to admire any,
had no great reason to be grateful for the munificence of creating
Nature. Were I to describe the person of D. W., I shoidd say that
she had no beauty ; but, on the contrary, seemed rather to have
been selected as a foil to set off the almost transparent deUcacy
of the bride whom she attended. Her figure was graceful, it is
true ; but, generaUy speaking, I incline to think that few ladies
would have envied her perfections. Her dark and rather deep-
sunk, yet penetrating and animated eye, could never have recon
cded theh looking-glasses to the sombre and swarthy complexion
which surrounded it ; nor the carmine of her pouting Up to the
disproportioned extent of feature which it tinted. In fine, as I
began, so wUl I conclude my personal description — she had no
beauty. But she seems this moment before me as in a vision. I
see her countenance, busied in tmceasing converse with her
heart ; — now Uluminated by brUUant wit,* now softened down
by sense and sensibiUty — the wUd spirit of the former changing
hke magic into the steadier movements of the latter ; — the serious
* A countenance illuminated by brilUant wit, is a truly romantic picture
which may well defy the powers of a Guide, but presents no difficulties to the
scientific and glowing vocabulary of the noveUst. Sir Jonah was an adept in this
copious dialect.

62 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
glance silently commanding restraint and caution, whdst the
counteracting smde even at the same moment set caution at de
fiance. But upon this subject I shaU desist, and only remark
further, that before I was aware of the commencement of its
passion, my whole heart was hers !
D. W. was at that time the fashion in society ; many ad
mired, but I know of none who loved her save myself, and it
must have been through some attractive congeniahty of mind
that our attachment became mutual.
It will doubtless appear unaccountable to many, whence the
speU arose by virtue of which I was thus bound to a female,
from whom every personal attribute seems to have been -with
held by Nature. But I am unable to solve the enigma. I once
ventured myself to ask D. W. if she could teU me why I loved
her ? She answered by returning the question ; and hence, neither
of us being able to give an expUcit reason, we mutuaUy agreed
that the query was imanswerable.
There are four short words in the French language which
have a power of expressing what in EngUsh is inexplicable —
" Je ne sais quoi." I shaU endeavour to characterise the " Je ne
sais qvMi," as meaning a species of indefiuable grace whieh gives
despotic power to a female. When we praise in detaU the
abstract beauties or merits of a woman, each of them may form
matter for argument, or subject for the exercise of various tastes ;
but of the " Je ne sais quoi " there is no specification, and upon
it there can be no reasoning. It is that fascinating enigma
which expresses all without expressing anything; that mys
terious source of attraction which we can neither discover nor
account for ; and which nor beauty, nor wit, nor education, nor
anything, in short, but nature, ever can create.
D. W. was the fashion ; but she depended solely, as to
fortune, on her father and her uncle. I was the third son of a
largely estated, but not prudent famUy, and was entitled to a
younger child's portion in addition to some exclusive property ;
but I had passed twenty-one, and had not even fixed on a pro
fession — therefore, the only probable result of our attachment

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 63
seemed to be misery and disappointment. Notwithstanding,
when in the same neighbourhood, we met — when separate, we
corresponded ; but her good sense at length perceived that some
end must be put to this state of clandestine intercourse, from
which, although equaUy condemning it, we had not been able to
abstain. Her father died, and she became entitled to a third of
his estate and effects ; but this accession was insufficient to
justify the accompUshment of our union. I saw, and with a
hah-broken heart acquiesced in, her view of its impossibUity
untd I should have acquired some productive profession. She
suggested that there was no other course but the Bar, which
might concUiate her uncle. The hint was sufficient, and we
then agreed to have a ceremony of betrothal performed, and to
separate the next moment, never to meet again untU fortune, if
ever so disposed, should smile upon us.
The ceremony was accordingly performed by a Mr. Tay, and
immediately afterwards I went on board a packet for England,
determiaed, if it were possible, to succeed in a profession which
held out a reward so essential to my happiness.
I did succeed at the Bar ; but alas ! she for whose sake my
toU was pleasure had ceased to exist. I never saw her more !
Her only sister stiU lives in Merrion Square, DubUn, and in her
has centered aU the property of both the father and uncle. She
is the wife of one of my warmest friends, a King's Counsel.
I hasten to quit a subject to me so distressing. Some very
peculiar chcumstances attended, as I learned, the death of that
most exceUent of women ; but a recital of these would only in
crease the impression which I fear I have already given grounds
for, that I am deeply superstitious. However, I have not con
cealed so important an incident of my Ufe hitherto not pubhshed,
and I have done.

64 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES

A DUBLIN BOARDING-HOUSE.
On my return to Dublin from London, before I could suit
myself with a residence to my satisfaction, I lodged at the house
of Mr. Kyle, in Frederick Street, uncle to the present provost of
Dublin University. Mrs. Kyle was a remarkably plain woman,
of the most curious figure, being round as a baU ; but she was
as good as she was ordinary. This worthy creature, who was a
gentlewoman by birth, had married Kyle, who, though of good
famUy, had been a trooper. She had Uved many years, as com
panion, with my grandmother, and in fact regarded me as h I
had been her o-wn chUd.
In her abode so many human curiosities were coUected, and so
many anecdotes occurred, that, even at this distance of time, the
recoUection of it amuses me. Those who lodged in the house
dined in company : the table was most plentifuUy served, and the
party generaUy comprised from eight to ten select persons. I
wiU endeavour to sketch the leading members of the society
there at the period of which I speak ; and first on the Ust I wdl
place the late Lord Mountmorris, of celebrated memory. He
was a very clever and weU-informed, but eccentric man ; one of
the most ostentatious and at the same time parsimonious beiags
in the world. He considered himself by far the greatest orator
and poUtician in Europe ; and it was he who sent a florid speech,
which he intended to have spoken in the Irish House of Lords,
to the press. The debate on which it was to be spoken did not
ensue ; but his lordship ha-ving neglected to coimtermand the
pubUcation, his studied harangue appeared next day in the
DubUn newspapers with aU the supposititious cheerings, etc., duly
interposed ! I believe a smnl&rfaux pas has been committed by
some English legislator.*
* Mr. Shiel was prevented delivering the speech with which he had furnished

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 65
His lordship, at the period in question, was patronising what
is commonly ycleped a Led Captain — one Lieutenant Ham or
Gam Johnson of the Royal Na-vy, brother to the two judges, and
the attorney, of whom I shaU speak hereafter. Without being
absolutely disgusting. Lieutenant Johnson was certainly the ughest
man in Christendom. It was said of him that he need never
fire a shot, since his countenance was sufficient to frighten the
bravest enemy. Yet the man was civd and mUd, and had
¦withal a much higher character as an officer than his captain in
the "Artois" frigate. Lord Charles Fitzgerald, who, it was at
that time thought, preferred a sound nap to a hard battle.
Next in the company came Sir John O'Flaherty, Bart., and
Lady O'Flaherty his sposa. He was a plain, agreeable country
gentleman. Her Ladyship was to the fuU as plain, but not
quite so agreeable. However, it was (as Mrs. Kyle said) respect
able, at a boarding-house, to hear — "Sir John O'Flaherty's
health !" — and "Lady O'Flaherty's health !" drunk or hobnobbed
across the table. They formed, indeed, exceUent make-weights
to cram in between Lord Mountmorris and the canaille.
Lady Barry, ¦widow of the late Sir Nathaniel Barry, Bart.,
and mother of Sh Edward, who was also an occasional guest,
foUows in my catalogue, and was as valuable a curiosity as any
of the set.
Mrs. Wheeler, the grandmother of Sh Richard Jonah Denny
Wheeler Cuffe, gave up her whole attention to lap-dogs. Lady
Barry's only daughter, afterwards the unfortunate Mrs. Baldwin,
was also of the party. Though this young female had not a
beautiful face, it was yet pecuUarly pleasing, and she certainly
possessed one of the finest figures — ^taU, slender ia its proportions,
and exquisitely graceful — I had ever seen. Her father. Sir
Nathaniel Barry, many years the principal physician of DubUn,
adored his daughter, and had spared no pains or expense on her
education. She profited by aU the instruction she received,
and was one of the most accomplished young women of her day.
the newspapers on the eve of his appearance at the great Kent meeting, and which
was duly published, much to his mortification.
VOL. I. F

66 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
But unfortunately he had introduced her to the practice of
one very objectionable accompUshment, — calculated rather to
give unbounded latitude to, than check, the Ught and dangerous
particles of a volatile and thoughtless disposition. He was him
self enthusiasticaUy fond of theatricals, and had fitted up a
theatre in the upper storey of his own house. There the youthful
mind of his daughter was initiated into aU the schemes and
deceptions of lovers and of hbertines ! At sixteen, -with aU the
warmth of a sensitive constitution, she was taught to personify
the vices, affect the passions, and assume the frivoUties, of her
giddy sex !
Thus, through the foUy or vanity of her father, she was led to
represent by turns the flii't, the jUt, the sdly -wife, the capricious
mistress, and the frad maiden, — ^before her understanding had
arrived at sufficient maturity, or his more serious instructions
had made sufficient impression, to enable her to resist e^vd
temptation. She saw the world's pleasures dancing gaUy before
her, aud pursued the vision — untd her mimicry, at length,
became nature, and her personification identity. After two or
three years, during which this mistaken course was pursued.
Sir Nathaniel died, leaving his daughter in possession of aU the
powers of attraction without the guard of prudence.
The misfortunes which ensued should therefore be attributed
rather to the folly of the parent than to the propensities of the
chdd. Her heart once sunk into the vortex of thoughtless
variety and foUy, her mother was unable to restrain its do-wn-
ward progress ; and as to her weak dissipated brother, Sir
Edward, I have myself seen him, late at night, require her to
come from her chamber to sing, or play, or spout, for the amuse
ment of his inebriated companions ; — conduct which the mother
had not sufficient sense or resolution to control. However,
good fortune stiU gave Miss Barry a fair chance of rescuing her
self, and securing complete comfort and high respectabUity.
She married weU, bemg united to Colonel Baldwin, a gentleman
of character and fortune ; but alas ! that deUcacy of mind which
is the best guardian of female conduct had been irrecoverably

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 67
lost by her pernicious education, and in a few years she , sank
beyond the possibiUty of regaining her station in society.
Long after the period of her unhappy faU, I saw Mrs. Bald
win at the house of a friend of mine, into which she had been
received, under an assumed name, as governess. This effort, on
her part, could not be blamed : on the contrary, it was most
commendable ; and it would have been both cruel and unjust,
by discovering her, to have thwarted it. Though many years
had elapsed, and her person had meanwhde undergone total
alteration, her size being doubled, and her features grown coarse
and common, I instantly recognised her as one whom I had
kno"wn long before, but whose name I could not recoUect. I had
tact enough to perceive that she courted concealment, and, in
consequence, I carefuUy abstained from any pointed observation.
The mother of the chddren subsequently told me that her gover
ness was an admirable musician, and took me to the door of her
room to hear her play. She was sitting alone, at the piano. I
listened with an anxiety I cannot describe, or hideed scarcely
account for. She sang not with superiority, but in plaintive
tones, which I was confident I had heard before, yet could not
remember where, when an air which, from a very peculiar cause,
had in early days impressed itself indelibly on my memory,
brought Miss Barry at once to my recoUection. Her image
swam into my mind as she appeared when youth, grace, inno
cence, and accompUshments, made her a just subject for general
admhation, and had particularly attracted a friend of mine, Mr.
Vicars, the brother of Mrs. Peter Latouche, who loved her to
distraction. Her secret I kept inviolably ; but some person, I beheve,
was afterwards less considerate, and she was discovered. Had I
supposed it possible she could have then enfeebled the morals
or injured the habits of my friend's chddren, I should myself
have privately given her a hint to change her situation ; — but I
never should have betrayed the poor creature. However, I con
ceived her at that time to be trustworthy in the execution of the
duties she had undertaken. She had suffered amply. Her own

68 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
daughter resided with her, and scarcely ever left her side. I then
beUeved, nor have I now any reason to question the solidity of
my judgment, that she was on the dhect road to prudence and
good conduct.
I have related these events, as I confess myself to be an
avowed enemy to a dramatic education. That sexual famiUarity
which is iadispensable upon the stage, undermines, and is, in my
opinion, utterly inconsistent -with, the deUcacy of sentiment, the
refinement of thought, and reserve of action, which constitute at
once the surest guards and the most precious ornaments of female
character. Strong minds and discriminating understandings
may occasionaUy escape ; but, what a vast majority of Thaha's
daughters faU -victims to the practices of theh o-wn caUing !*
But let us return to Kyle's boarding-house. The different
pursuits adopted by these curious members of the society assem
bled there were to me subjects of constant entertainment. I
stood weU with all parties.
One day, after dinner. Lord Mountmorris seemed rather less
communicative than usual, but not less cheerful. He took out
his watch ; made a speech, as customary ; drank his tipple, as
he denominated the brandy and water ; but seemed rather im
patient. At length a loud rap announced somebody of conse
quence, and the Marquis of Ely was named.
Lord Mountmorris rose with his usual ceremony, made a very
low bow to the company, looked again at his watch, repeated
his conge, and made his exit. He entered the coach where
Lord Ely was waiting, and away they drove. Kyle instantly
decided that a duel was in agitation, and turned pale at the
dread of losing so good a lodger. Lieutenant Gam Johnson was
of the same opinion, and equaUy distressed by the fear of losing
his Lordship's interest for a frigate. Each snatched up his beaver,
and, with the utmost expedition, pursued the coach. I was also
rather desirous to see the fun, as Gam, though -with a sigh,
caUed it ; and made the best of my way after the two mourners,
* There may be different opinions upon this subject, but I am not at liberty
to modify the virtuous sentiments of our author, much less to discuss them.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 69
not, however, hurrying myself so much : as, whUst they kept
the coach in view, I was contented with keeping them within
sight. Our pursuit exceeded a mde ; when, in the distance, I
perceived that the coach had stopped at Donnybrook-fah green,
where, on every eighth of June, many an eye seems to mourn
for the broken skuU that had protected it from expulsion. I
took my time, as I was now sure of my game, and had just
reached the field when I heard the firing. I then ran behind a
large tree, to observe farther.
Gam and Kyle had flo-wn towards the spot, and nearly
tumbled over my Lord, who had received a buUet from the Hon.
Francis Hely Hutchinson, late coUector for Dublin, on the right
side, directly under his Lordship's pistol-arm. The peer had
staggered and measured his length on the greensward, and I
certainly thought it was aU over with him. I stood snugly all
the whde behind my tree, not -wishing to have anything to do at
the coroner's inquest, which I considered ine-vitable. To my
astonishment, however, I saw my Lord arise ! and, after some
coUoquy, the combatants bowed to each other and separated ;
my Lord got back to his coach, with aid, and reached Frederick
Street, if not in quite as good health, certainly -with as high a
character for bravery, as when he had left it. In fact, never did
any person enjoy a woimd more sincerely ! He kept his cham
ber a month, and was inconceivably gratffied by the number of
inquhies daUy made respecting his health, boasting ever after of
the profusion of friends who thus proved theh sohcitude. His
answer from first to last was — No better. To speak truth, one-
half of the querists were sent in jest by those whom his singu
larity diverted.

70 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES

IRISH BEAUTIES.
It is singular enough, but at the same time true, that female
beauty has of late years kept pace in improvement -with modem
accomplishments. She who in the early part of my Ufe would
have been accounted a perfect beauty, — ^whose touch upon a
harpsichord or sphmet, accompanied by a simple air sung -with
what they then called "judgment" (in tune), would have con
stituted her at once a Venus and a Siren, — would now be passed
by merely as " a pretty girl, but such a confounded bore -with her
music !" In fact, women fifty years since, and even much later,
not being, generaUy speaking, thrust into society tdl they had
arrived at the age of maturity, were more respected, more be
loved, and more sedulously attended, than in these days, when
the men seem to have usurped the ladies' corsets, to affect theh
voices, practise theh gait, imitate theh small-talk, and, in sur
touts and trowsers, hustle ladies off the footpaths, to save, theh
own dog-skins from humidity.
This degradation of both sexes has arisen from various
causes. Beauty is apparently become less rare, accomplishments
more common, dress less distinguished, dignity worse preserved,
and decorum less attended to, than in former times. It is a great
mistake in women not to recoUect theh o-wn importance, and
keep up that just medium between reserve and famiUarity which
constitutes the best criterion whereby to appreciate the manners
of a gentlewoman. But women are too apt to run into extremes
in everything, aud overlook the fact, that neither personal
beauty nor dra-whig-room display is calculated to form per
manent attractions, even to the most adoring lover. The break
fast-table iu the morning, and fireside in the evening, must be
the ultimate touchstones of connubial comfort ; and this is a

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 71
maxim which any woman who intends to marry should never
lose sight of
To such lengths did respect for the sex extend, and so strong
was the impression that men were bound to protect it even from
accidental offence, that I remember, if any gentleman presumed
to pass between a lady and the waU in walking the streets of
Dubhn, he was considered as offering a personal affront to her
escort ; and h the parties wore swords (as was then customary),
it is probable the first salutation to the offender would be —
"Draw, sh!" However, such affairs usuaUy ended in an apology
to the lady for inadvertence.*
But if a man ventured to intrude into the boxes of the theatre
in his surtout, or boots, or with his hat on, it was regarded as a
general insult to every lady present, and he had httle chance of
escaping -without a shot or a thrust before the foUowing night.
Every, gentleman then wore, in the evening, a sword, a queue, and
a three-cocked hat — appointments rather too fierce-looking for the
modem dandy ! The morning dress consisted of what was then
caUed a French frock, a waistcoat bordered with lace, and a
couteau de chasse, with a short, curved, broad blade ; the handle
of green ivory, with a Uon's head in sdver or gdt, at the end ;
and a treble chain dangling loose from its mouth, terminating at
an ornamented cross or guard, which surmounted the scabbard.
Such was the Irish costume : but although either the male or
female atthe of that day might now appear rather grotesque, yet
people of fashion had then the exclusive dress and air of such,
and gentlewomen ran no risk of being copied in garb or manner
by theh pretty waiting-maids — now caUed "young persons !"f
The Irish court at that period was kept up with great state,
and hence the parties who frequented it were more select. 1
recoUect when the wives and daughters of the attorneys, who
now, I beUeve, are the general occupiers of the red benches, were
* Without any of this rhodomontade, gentlemen were never more attentive
and respectful to the fair sex than at present.
t There are some remarkable signs of progress in this direction. MUliuers,
advertising for "improving apprentices," caU them "young ladies," Have they
the heralds' sanction for this nomenclature ?

72 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
never admitted to the vice-regal drawing-rooms. How far the
present growing system of equaUty in appearance amongst dif
ferent ranks wUl eventuaUy benefit or injure society in general,
is for casuists, not for me, to determine. I must, however, take
occasion to own myself an admirer, and, whenever it is proper,
a zealous contender, for distinction of ranks ; and to state my
decided opinion that nothing but superior talents, learning,
miUtary reputation, or some other quahty which raises men by
general assent, should be permitted to amalgamate society.
It is an observation I have always made, although it may be
perhaps considered a frivolous one, that dress has a moral effect
upon the conduct of mankind. Let any gentleman find himself
with dhty boots, old surtout, soded neckcloth, and a general negU-
gence of dress, he wiU, in aU probabUity find a corresponding dispo
sition to negligence of address. He may, en deshabille, curse and
swear, and speak roughly and think roughly ; but put the same man
into fuU dress — powder him weU — clap a sword by his side,
give him an evening coat, breeches, and sUk stockings — and he
wdl feel himseK quite another person ! To use the language of
the blackguard would then be out of character : he wiU talk
smoothly, affect poUteness h he has it not, pique himself upon
his good manners, and respect the women ; nor vnU the speU
subside until, returning home, the old robe de chambre, or its sub
stitute surtout, with other slovenly appendages, makes him lose
again his brief consciousness of being a gentlemant
Some women mistake the very nature and purposes of dress :
glaring abroad, they are slatterns at home. The husband detests
in his sposa what he is too apt to practise himself ; he rates a
dirty wife,J she retorts upon a ruffianly husband, and each of
• I suppose he means, to fiU up the interstices between the globules "of
blood ; " or to mix freely among their betters. It is a good principle of aristocracy
to admit merit alone to its famiUarity, and it should labour hard to be worthy of
the new acquaintance.
t What would Brummell think of this ?
t A dirty wife would now be considered a curiosity, if not a treasure. After
aU, it is not the ladies who are extravagant, but the prices. The diick of a bonnet
i.'s indispcnsalilp ; its rost indisputable.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 73
them detests the other for neglect which neither wUl take the
trouble of avoiding.
Three ladies, about the period of my return from London,
became very conspicuous for their beauty, though extremely dif
ferent in aU points, both of appearance and manners. They still
Uve : — two of them I greatly admired, not for beauty alone, but
for an address the most captivating ; and one of them, especiaUy,
for the kindest heart and the soundest sense, when she gave it
fah play, that I have ever met with amongst females.
In admitting my great preference to this indi^vidual lady, I
may, perhaps, by those who know her, be accused of partiaUty,
less to herself than to a famdy ; — be it so ; she is the ¦wife of my
friend, and I esteem her for his sake ; but she is also an exceUent
woman, and I esteem her for her o^wn.
Another of the parties aUuded to. Lady M  , is a gentle
woman of high birth, and was then, though not quite a beauty,
in aU points attractive. She passed her spring in misfortune,
her summer in misery, her autumn without happiness ! I hope
the ¦winter of her days is spent amidst every comfort. Of the
thhd lady I have not yet spoken. Though far inferior to both
the former, she has succeeded better in Ufe than either ; and
beginning the world without any pretensions beyond mediocrity,
is Ukely to end her days in ease and more than ordinary respec
tabiUty.* My first knowledge of Lady M  arose from a circumstance
which was to me of singular professional advantage ; and, as it
forms a curious anecdote respecting myself, I wUl proceed to
relate it.
At the assizes of Wexford, whUst I was but young at the
bar, I received a brief in a cause of Sir R  M  , Bart.,
against a Mr. H  . On perusal, I found it was an action
brought by the baronet against the latter gentleman respecting
* The mediocrities, male and female, possess an assurance and activity that
surmount all obstacles. Mediocrity would be a merciful dispensation of Provi
dence, if it fostered a great deal of patient humility and amiable resignation. If
rewards were reserved to talent, there would be more daUy suicides than births.
Genius cannot envy the luck that obviates such calamities.

74 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
his lady, and that I was retained as advocate for the lady's
honour. It was my "first appearance" in that town. But, alas!
I had a senior ia the business, and therefore was -without oppor
tunity of displaying my abdities. The dl-fated Bagenal Harvey*
was that senior counsel, and he had prepared himself to make
some exhibition in a cause of so much and such universal excite
ment. I felt disphited, and would wUlingly have given up
twenty fees in order to possess his opportunity.
The cause proceeded before Judge KeUy ; the e-vidence was
finished, and the proper time for the defence had arrived — every
thing as to the lady was at stake. Bagenal Harvey had gone
out to take fresh air, and probably to read over some notes, or
con some florid sentences and quotations ¦with which he intended
to interlard his elocution. At the moment the evidence closed,
the Judge deshed me to proceed. I repUed that Mr. Harvey,
my senior, would return into court directly.
Judge KeUy, who was my friend, and clearly saw my wish,
said he would not delay pubhc business one minute for anybody.
I began to state her ladyship's case. I forgot poor Bagenal
Harvey, and was just getting into the marrow and pathos of my
case, when the crier shouted out, " Clear the way for CounseUor
Harvey!" I instantly stopped, and begged his pardon, adding,
that the Judge had said the pubUc time could wait for nobody !
Bagenal became irritated as much as he was susceptible of
being, and whispered me that he considered it as a personal
insult ; whUst old Judge KeUy gravely said, — " Go on, Mr. Bar
rington ; go on. We can have no speeches by di-vidends. Go
on, sh !" So on I went ; and I beUeve (because everybody told
me so) that my impromptu speech was enthely successful. I
discredited the ¦witnesses by ridicule, destroyed aU sympathy
with the husband, and interested everybody for the wife. In
* An unfortunate friend of mine, who was afterwards hanged and his head
stuck over the door of the same cow!t-house.—{AutJwr's note.) [He was condemned
for the part he took in the rebelUon of 1798. He commanded 20,000 men at the
battle of New Ross, He was a Protestant gentleman of good estate and family.—
M.]

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 75
short, I got the judge and jury into ' good humour, and obtained
a verdict. Some time afterwards a reconcUiation took place between the
parties, so far that her ladyship consented to Uve with him
again ; influenced much, I rather thhik, by having suffered great
inconvenience, if not distress, from want of regularity in the
receipt of her separate maintenance of £700 per annum. I had
the pleasure of meeting her frequently at the Lady Lieutenant's
parties. The conclusion of the renewed intercourse is too curious to
be omitted. Sh R  had taken a house in the city of DubUn,
and it was thought possible that he and his -wife might, at any-
rate, pass some time under the same roof, but fate decided other
wise. Sh R  was UteraUy insane on aU poUtical subjects, his
imagination being occupied night and day 'with nothing but
Papists, Jesuits, and rebels. Once, in the dead of the night, his
lady was awakened by a sense of positive suffocation, and, rousing
herself, found that Sh R  was in the very act of strangling her.
This crazy Orangeman had in his dream fancied that he was
contesting -with a rebel, whom he had better choke than suffer to
escape, and poor Lady M  was nearly sacrfficed to his excess
of loyalty. In her robe de chambre and sUppers she contrived to
get out of the house, and never more ventured to return.
¦Whdst Sh R  was High Sheriff for the county of Water
ford, an old man was sentenced to be whipped at the cart's tad
for some poUtical offence, when, the executioner not being in
readiness, the High Sheriff, a baronet and Member of ParUament,
took up the cat-o'-nine-taUs, ordered the cart to move on slowly,
and operated himself •with admirable expertness, but much
greater severity than the hangman would have used t
Lady M  was, in her o-wn right, entitled to a fortune of
* I fear this story is a venture.
¦f I have heard this account contradicted in Waterford by those who knew and
hated Musgrave well. But he was capable of worse deeds than flogging a political
foe.

76 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
£15,000, to be paid on her marriage. Her father, a gentleman
of rank and estate, had by some mismanagement become ex
tremely embarrassed. Sir R  M  , a man of famdy, but
whose fortune was not large, cast his eye on her beauty — not
totaUy overlooking her property. I have had the affecting
narrative of her ladyship's -wrongs and misfortunes related to me
by herself in broken fragments and at several times.
" I was not aware (said she) what caused my dear father's
obvious unhappiness, and often was I surprised at the pertinacity
with which he pressed the Baronet upon my consideration. I
rejected him over and over again ; stdl his suit was renewed,
stdl my father appeared more anxious on his behalf, whUst my
mother seconded their wishes. My aversion increased ; yet Sh
R  M  's assiduities were redoubled -with his repulses ;
and at length I contemplated the lea-ving my father's house, if
I were longer persecuted by these addresses.
" But I discovered the whole of my father's more than press
ing embarrassments ; and understood that Sh R  M 
had agreed to give up to him a considerable portion of my
fortune if our marriage was effected. This shock to such a dis
position as mine was cruel ; and the dUemma was distracting,
since it involved my father's ruin — or my o-wn !
" Often, as we sat at our family repasts, have I perceived
that dear parent lay do"wn the fork he was conveying to his Ups,
and turn away to conceal the agitation of mind which might
have betrayed to us his distresses.
" Gradually, I found that fiUal affection was taking the
strongest hold of me. I thought I could endure unhappiness
myself, but I could not bear to see my father miserable. I
weighed the consequences, and reasoned so far as I possessed the
faculty of reasoning. I saw his ruin or my o^wn was inevitable !
" The struggle was, indeed, sharp — it was long — it was very
painful : but at length filial piety prevailed over self ; and I de
termined upon my own sacrffice. I communicated to my father
my decision to admit the addresses of Sir R  M  ; but, at
the same moment, I felt an indescribable change of character com-

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 77
mence, which, from that sad period, has more or less affected
every action of my Ufe. I felt a sort of harsh sensation arise
withia my mind, and operate upon my temper, to which they
had pre^viously been strangers. My spirits flagged, my pursuits
grew insipid, and I perceived that the ice of indifference was
chUUng aU the sensibiUty of my nature.
"From the moment of my assent, my father's disposition
seemed to have undergone almost as radical a change as my own.
He became once more cheerful, and I had at least the gratifica
tion of refiecting that, if I were myself lost, I had saved a
parent ! But I must remark that it was not so as to my mother
— who, indeed, had never been kind to me.
" In due time the settlements were prepared, and my fortune,
I learn, secretly divided. The ceremony was about to be per
formed, and Sh R  M  at that very hour appeared to me
to be the most disagreeable of mankind. There was a sort of un
couth ci^vihty — an abrupt, fiery, coarse expression, even in his
most concUiating manners, which seemed to set aU feelings of
respect or cordiaUty at defiance. As to love, he was not suscep
tible of the passion, whdst I was created to enjoy its tenderest
blessings. He was haK-mad by nature ; — I had become so from
misei-y ! and in this state of mind we met to be united at the
altar ! I was determined, however, that he should learn by an
ticipation what he had to expect from me as a wife. ' Sh R 
M  (said I to him), I am resolved to give you the last proof
you wdl ever receive of my candour. I accept you, not only as
a husband whom I never can love, and never wiU obey, but
whom I absolutely detest! — now marry me at your perd and
take the consequences ! He laughed convulsively, took me by
the hand, and having led me into the next room, that ceremony
was performed to which I should have thought a sentence of
death preferable. The moment we were united, I retired to
my chamber, where tears flowing in torrents cooled my heated
feelings. My purpose in marrying was effected ; I therefore de-
tennined that, if possible, I never would live an hour in his society.
" Our residence together, of course, was short, and at twenty-

78 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
one I was thrown upon the world to avoid my husband's society.
Being possessed of sufficient means, I traveUed ; and thus for
the fourteen years maintained our separation. On a late
occasion you were my counsel, and from you nothing has been
concealed. You did me more than justice — you have defeated
him, and preserved me ! "

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 79

PATRICIANS AND PLEBEIANS.
I WILL now proceed to lay before the reader a brief but more
general sketch of the state of Irish society at the period of my
youth, reminding him of the principle which I have before as
sumed — namely, that of considering anecdotes, bon-mots, and
such-like, valuable only as they tend to exemplify interesting
facts relative to history or manners : many such I have inserted
in these fragments ; and as I have been careful throughout to
avoid mere inventions, my reader need not, by any means,
reserve theh perusal for the study of his travelling-carriage.
Miss Edgeworth, in her admirable sketch of Castle Backrent,
gives a faithful picture of the Irish character under the chcum
stances which she has selected ; and the account that I am about
to give may serve as a kind of supplement to that Uttle work, as
weU as an elucidation of the habits and manners of Irish
country society about the period Miss Edgeworth aUudes to, and
somewhat later.
In those days, then, the common people ideaUy separated the
gentry of the country into three classes, and treated each class
accordhig to the relative degree of respect to which they con
sidered it was entitled.
They generaUy di-vided them thus : —
1. Kalf-moxhnted gentlemen.
2. Gentlemen every inch of them.
3. Gentlemen to the bacTcbone.
The first-named class formed the only species of independent
yeomanry then existing in Ireland. They were the descendants
of the smaU grantees of Queen Elizabeth, CromweU, and King
WiUiam ; possessed about 200 acres of laud each, in fee-farm,
from the Crown ; and were occasionaUy admitted into the society

80 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
of gentlemen — particularly hunters — Uving at other times
amongst each other, ¦with an intermixture of theh o^wn servants,
¦with whom they were always on terms of intimacy. They gene
raUy had good clever horses, which could leap over anything, but
had never felt the trimming-scissors or currycomb. The riders
commonly wore buckskin breeches, and boots weU greased
(blacking was never used in the country), and carried large thong
whips hea-vUy loaded with lead at the butt-end, so that they were
always prepared either to horsewhip a man or knock his brains out,
as chcumstances might dictate. These half-mounted gentlemen
exercised the hereditary authority of keeping the ground clear
at horse-races, hurUngs, and aU pubUc meetings (as the soldiers
keep the Unes at a re^view). Their business was to ride round the
inside of the ground, which they generaUy did ¦with becoming
spirit, trampling over some, knocking do^wn others, and slashing
everybody who encroached on the proper limits. Bones being
but very seldom broken, and skulls stiU seldomer fractured, every
body approved of theh exertions, because all the bystanders
gained therefrom a full "view of the sport which was going
forward. The second class, or gentlemen every in/ih of them, were of
exceUent old famiUes, whose finances were not in so good order
as they might have been, but who were popular amongst aU
ranks. They were far above the first degree, somewhat inferior
to the third ; but had great influence, were much beloved, and
carried more sway at popular elections and general county meet
ings than the other two classes put together.
The thhd class, or gentlemen to the bacTcbone, were of the
oldest famUies and settlers, universaUy respected, and idolised by
the peasantoy, although they also were generally a Uttle out at
elbows. Theh word was law ; theh nod would have immediately
coUected an army of cottagers, or coUiers, or whatever the popu
lation was composed of. Men, women, and chddren, were always
ready and wUUng to execute anything " the squire " requhed,
without the sUghtest consideration as to either its danger or
propriety.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 81
A curious chcumstance perhaps rendered my famUy peculiarly
popular. The common people had conceived the notion that the
Lord of CuUenaghmore had a right to save a man's Ufe every
summer assizes at Maryborough ; and it did frequently so happen,
within my recoUection, that my father's intercession in favour of
some poor deluded creatures, when the White Boy system was
in acti-vity, was kindly attended to by the Government; and,
certainly, besides this number, many others of his tenants owed
their hves to similar interference.*
I recoUect of Mr. Tom FUnter of Timahoe, one of the first-
class gentlemen, who had speculated in cows and sheep, and
everything he could buy up, tdl his estabUshment was reduced
to one blunt faithful feUow, Dick Henesey, who stuck to him
thi'oughout aU his vicissitudes. Flinter had once on a time got
a trifle of money, which was burning in his greasy pocket, and
he wanted to expend it at a neighbouring fah ! where his whole
history, as weU as the history of every man of his half-mounted
contemporaries, was told in a few verses,"!" by a feUow caUed Ned
*.,It should be remembered that at this time several minor breaches of honesty
were punishable -with death.
f They were considered as a standing joke for many years in that part of the
country, and ran as follows : —
Dialogue between Tom Flinter and his man..
Tom Fmntek. Dick ! said he ;
DiOK Henesey. What ? said he ;
Tom Flintek. Fetch me my hat : says he ;
For I wUl go, says he ;
To Timahoe, says he ;
To buy the fair, says he ;
And all that's there, says he.
Dick Heneset. Arrah ! fay w'hat you owe I said he ;
And tlien you may go, says he ;
To Timahoe, says he ;
To buy the fair, says he ;
And all that's there, says he.
Tom Flinter. WeU ! by this and by that ! said he ;
Dick ! hang up my 'hatl says he. — {Author' s note.)
(Not a bad lyric, as things go ! — Ed. )
VOL. I. G

82 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
the dog-stealer, but who was also a great foet, and resided in the
neighbourhood. In traveUing through Ireland, a stranger is very frequently
puzzled by the singular ways, and especiaUy by the idiomatic
equivocation, characteristic of every Irish peasant. Some years
back, more particularly, these men were certainly originals—
quite unldie any other people whatever. Many an hour of curi
ous entertainment has been afforded me by theh eccentricities ;
yet, though always fond of prying into the remote sources of
these national pecuUarities, I must frankly confess that, with aU
my pains, I never was able to develop half of them, except by
one sweeping observation — namely, that the brains and tongues
of the Irish are somehow differently formed or furnished from
those of other people.*
One general hint which I beg to impress upon aU traveUers
in Hihernia, is the foUowing : — that if they show a disposition
towards kindness, together with a moderate familiarity, and affect
to be inquisitive, whether so or not, the Irish peasant wiU outdo
them tenfold in every one of these dispositions. But h a man
is haughty and overbearing, he had better take care of himseff.
I have often heard it remarked and complained of by traveUers
and strangers, that they never could get a true answer from any
Irish peasant as to distances, when on a journey. For many
years I myself thought it most unaccountable. If you meet a
peasant on your journey, and ask him how far, for instance, to
BaUinrobe ? he wiU probably say it is, " three short mUes." You
travel on, and are informed by the next peasant you meet, " that
it is five long mdes." On you go, and the next wdl teU " your
honour" it is "four miles, or about that same." The fourth wdl
swear "if your honour stops at three mdes, you'U never get
there !" But, on pointing to a town just before you, and inquh-
ing what place that is, he rephes,
¦* This, to my knowledge, and I have had as good means of knowing as Sir
Jonah had, is a vague and erroneous representation of the inteUectual features of
the Irish peasantry. Inquisitiveness, shi-ewdness, promptitude, and wonderful
perspicacity, have long been their most prominent characteristics. But I believe
the author liad but few opportunities of studying the pure Celt.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 83
" Oh ! plaze your honour, that's BaUinrobe, sure enough !"
" Why, you said it was more than three miles off."
" Oh yes ! to be sure and sartaia, that's from my oivn cabin,
plaze your honour. We're no scholards in this country. Arrah !
how can we teU any distance, plaze your honour, but from our
o-wn little cabins? Nobody but the schoolmaster knows that,
plaze your honour."*
Thus is the mystery unravelled. When you ask any peasant
the distance of the place you require, he never computes it from
where you then are, but from his own cabin ; so that, if you asked
twenty, in aU probabUity you would have as many different
answers, and not one of them correct. But it is to be observed,
that frequently you can get no reply at aU, unless you under
stand Irish.
In parts of Kerry and Mayo, however, I have met -with pea
sants who speak Latin not badly ."f" On the election of Sh John
Brown for the County of Mayo, CounseUor Thomas Moore and
I went down as his counsel. The weather was desperately
severe. At a sohtary inn, where we were obUged to stop for
horses, we requested diimer ; upon which the waiter laid a cloth
that certainly exhibited every species of dirt ever invented. We
called, and remonstrating with him, ordered a clean cloth. He
was a low fat feUow, with a countenance perfectly immovable,
and seeming to have scarcely a single muscle in it. He nodded,
and on our return to the room, which we had quitted during the
interval, we found, instead of a clean cloth, that he had only
folded up the filthy one into the thickness of a cushion. We
now scolded away in good earnest. He looked at us with the
greatest sang-froid, and said sententiously, " Nemo me impune
lacessit." He kept his word. When we had proceeded about four
* Many a caricature of the Celts, under the name of an Irish Tale, has been
dra-wn on this outrageous model ; and many a drunken dolt has been thought a
genius for gathering together the slang of Dublin, Cork, and Belfast, and stuffing
it into the vocal cavity of Paddy.
t When a youngster I often feU in with peasants who were famUiar with
Greek and Roman classics. But such curious incidents -will surprise no moi'e.

84 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
mdes in deep snow, and through a desperate night, on a bleak
road one of the wheels came off the carriage, and down we
went! We were at least two miles from any house. The
driver cursed, in Irish, Michael the waiter, who, he said, had
put a new wheel upon the carriage, which had turned out to be
an old one, and had broken to pieces.
We had to march through the snow to a wretched cottage, and
sit up aU night to get a genuine new wheel ready for the morning.
The Irish peasant, also, never answers any question dhectly.
In some districts, if you ask hhn where such a gentleman's
house is, he wiU point and reply, " Does your honour see that
large house there, aU amongst the trees, with a green field before
it ?" You answer " Yes." " WeU," says he, " plaze your honour,
that's not it. But do you see the big brick house, -with the cow
houses by the side of that same, and a pond of water ?"
" Yes."
" Well, plaze your honour, that's not it. But, if you plaze,
look quite to the right of that same house, and you'U see the
top of a castle amongst the trees there, ¦with a road going do^wn
to it betune the bushes."
" Yes."
" WeU, plaze your honour, thafs not it neither ; but if your
honour wdl come do"wn this bit of a road a couple of miles, I'U
show it you sure enough ; and if your honour's in a hurry, I can
run on hot foot, and teU the squhe yoru* honour's galloping after
me. Ah! who shaU I teU the squfre, plaze your honour, is
coming to see him ? He's my o-wn landlord, God save his honour
day and night !" * _
* There is some truth in this ; but our philosophers have not explained the
phenomena. The fact is, the peasant suspends his information that he may
gain time to speculate on your character, business, or profession, etc. While
withholding the information you want, he is endeavouring to pick out the
information he wants. All the whUe he is fencing against a direct answer he is
stri-nng to open a communication with your private affairs by forming an
opportunity for a sly question of his own. He usually succeeds, and begins
pumping you with such quaint grace that you never get angry -with him.
There is a light for the tale-mongers, if we are to be exposed to any more of their
philandering.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 85

IRISH INNS.
An Irish inn has been an eternal subject of ridicule to every
-writer upon the habits and appearances of my native country.
It is true that, in the early period of my Ufe, most of the inns
in Ireland were nearly of the same quahty — a composition of
slovenUness, bad meat, worse cooking, and few vegetables save
the royal Irish potato ; but plenty of fine eggs, smoked bacon,
often exceUent chickens, and occasionally the hen, as soon as
she had done hatching them — if you could chew her. Thej'
generaUy had capital claret, and plenty of civiUty in aU its
ranufications. The poor people did their best to entertain their guests, but
did not understand their trade ; and, even had it been other
wise, they had neither furniture, nor money, nor credit, nor
cattle, nor customers enough to keep things going weU together.
There were then no post-horses nor carriages, consequently very
Uttle travelling in Ireland ; and if there had been much, the
ruts and holes would have rendered thirty miles a-day a good
journey. Yet I verily believe, on the whole, that the people in
general were happier, at least they appeared vastly more con
tented, than at present. I certainly never met with so bad a
thing in Ireland as the "Red Cow" in John Bull ; for, whatever
might have been the quality, there was plenty of something
or other always to be had at the inns to assuage hunger and
thhst. One anecdote respecting an Irish inn may, with modifica
tions, give some idea of others at that period. A Mrs. Moll
Harding kept the natest inn at BaUyroan, close to my father's
house. I recollect to have heard a passenger (they are very
scarce there) telUng her " that his sheets had not been aired."

86 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
With great civUity MoU Harding begged his honour's pardon,
and said, " they certainly were and must have been well ahed,
for there was not a gentleman came to the house the last fort
night that had not slept in them !"
Another incident which occurred in an Irish inn is, for very
good reasons, much more firmly impressed on my recoUection,
and may give a hint worth having to some curious traveUers ia
theh peregrinations to Kerry, KUlarney, etc.
The late Earl Farnham had a most beautiful demesne at a
viUage caUed Ne-wtown Barry, County Wexford. It is a choice
spot, and his lordship resided in a very smaU house in the
-vUlage. He was always so obhging as to make me dine with
him on my circuit journey, and I slept at the httle inn — in
those days a very poor one indeed.
The day of my arrival was on one occasion wet, and a very
large assemblage of barristers were necessitated to put up with
any accommodation they could get. I was sure of a good
dinner ; but every bed was engaged. I dined with Lord F.,
took my wine merrUy, and adjourned to the inn, determined to
sit up aU night at the kitchen fire. I found every one of my
brethren in bed ; the maid-servant full of good Uquor, and the
man and woman of the house quite as joyously provided for.
The lady declared she could not think of permitting my honour
to sit up ; and if I would accept of theh Uttle snug cupboard-
bed by the fireside, I should be warm and comfortable. This
arrangement I thought a most agreeable one ; the bed was let
do-wn from the niche into which it had been folded up, and in a
few minutes I was in a comfortable slumber.
My first sensation ia the morniag was, however, one which
it is not in my power to describe. I found myself in a state of
suffocation, with my head down aud my feet upwards ! A con-
¦vulsive effort probably saved me from a most inglorious death.
On a sudden I felt my position change ; and ¦with a crash, sound
ing to me hke thunder, do-wn the bed and I came upon the floor.
I cried out "Murder!" as vehemently as I could. The man,
woman, and maid, by this time aU sober, came running into

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 87
the room together. I soon leamed the cause of my perilous
situation. The maid, ha-ving been drunk when I went to bed, had totaUy
forgotten me. In the morning, to clear the kitchen, she hoisted
up the bed into its proper niche, and turned the button at the
top that kept it in its place ; in consequence of which, down
went my head and up went my heels ! and as ah is an article
indispensably necessary to existence, death would very soon
have ended the argument, had not my -violent struggles caused
the button to give way, and so brought me once more out of
the position of the Antipodes. The poor woman was as much
alarmed as I was !

88 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES

FATAL DUEL OF MY BROTHER.
As the circumstances attending the death of my younger
brother, WiUiam Barrington, by the hand of the celebrated
General Gdlespie, whom Government has honoured ¦with a monu
ment ia Westminster Abbey, have been variously detaUed, I
think it right to take this opportunity of stating the facts of that
most melancholy transaction. I wiU do so as concisely as may
be, and as dispassionately as the slaughter of a beloved brother
wUl admit of
WiUiam Barrington had passed his twentieth year, and had
intended, -without delay, to embrace the military profession.
He was active, Uvely, fuU of spirit and of animal courage ; — his
predominant traits were excessive good-nature and a most zeal
ous attachment to the honour and individuals of his famdy.
GiUespie, then captain in a cavahy regiment, had shortly
before the period in question married a Miss Taylor, an intimate
friend of ours, and was quartered in Athy, where my mother
resided. A very close and dady intercourse sprung up between the
famiUes. After dinner, one day, at GiUespie's house, when every
gentleman had taken more -wine than was prudent, a dispute
arose between my brother and a Mr. M'Kenzie, Ueutenant in an
infantry regiment, quartered at the same place. This dispute
never should have been suffered to arise ; — and, as it was totaUy
private, should, at least, never have proceeded further. But no
attempt was made either to reconcde or check it on the part
of Captain GiUespie, although the thing occurred at his own
table. Gillespie was a very handsome person ; but it was not that
species of soldier-like and manly beauty which bespeaks the

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 89
union of courage and generosity. He had a fah and smooth
countenance, wherein impetuosity appeared to be the prevading
feature. His, however, was not the rapid flow of transitory
anger, which, rushing ingenuously from the heart, is instantly
suppressed by reason and repentance. I admire that temper ;
it never inhabits the same mind with treachery or maUce. On
the contrary, a Uvid paleness overspread the countenance of
GiUespie upon the sUghtest ruffle of his humour. The "vulgar
caU such " white-livered persons :" they are no favourites with
the world in general ; and I have never, throughout the course
of a long life, observed one man so constituted possessing a Ust
of -virtues. I never could bear Gdlespie ! I had an instinctive dislike to
him, which I strove, in vain, to conquer. I always considered
him to be a dangerous man — an impetuous, unsafe companion —
capable of anything in his anger. I know I ought not to speak
-with prejudice ; yet, alas ! if I do, who can blame me ?
A cenotaph, voted by the British ParUament, has raised his
fame ; but it is the fame of a sabreur — erected on pdes of
slaughter, and cemented by the blood of Indians. No tale of
social virtues appears to enrich the cornice of his monu
ment. I wish there had ! it would at any rate have indicated
repentance. To return to my story. — Midway between Athy and Carlow
was agreed on for a meeting. I resided in Dubhn, and was
ignorant of the transaction tdl too late ! A crowd, as usual,
attended the combat ; several gentlemen, and some relatives of
mine, were, I regret to say, present. In a smaU verdant field,
on the bank of the Barrow, my brother and M'Kenzie were
placed GiUespie, who had been considered as the friend and
Ultimate of my famdy, volunteered as second to M'Kenzie (a
comparative stranger), who was in no way adverse to an amicable
arrangement. Gdlespie, however, would hear of none ; the
honour of a mditary man, he said, must be satisfied, and nothing
but blood, or at least every effort to draw it, could form that
satisfaction.

90 barrington's PERSONAL SKETCHES
The combatants fired and missed ; they fired again ; no mis
chief was the consequence. A reconcUiation was now proposed,
but objected to by GUlespie ; and -wUl it be beUeved that, in a
civUised country, when both combatants were satisfied, one of
the principals should be instantly slain by a second ? Yet such
was the case : my brother stood two fires from his opponent, and
whUst professing his readiness to be reconcded, was shot dead
by the hand of his opponent's second.
GiUespie himseK is now departed : he died by the same
death that he had indicted. But he was more favoured by Pro-
-vidence ; he died the death of a soldier ; feU by the hand of the
enemy, not by the weapon of an intimate.
WiUiam was my very beloved brother ! The news soon
reached me in Dublin. I could not, or rather I durst not, give
utterance to the nature and excess of my feelings on the com
munication. But sorrow had the least share in those thoughts
which predominated. A passion not naturaUy mine absorbed
every other ; I immediately set out post ; but my brother had
been interred prior to my arrival ; and GiUespie, the sole object
of my vengeance, had fled, nor was his retoeat to be discovered.
I lost no time in procuring a warrant for murder against hhn
from Mr. Ryan, a magistrate. I sought him in every place ; day
and night my pursuit was continued, but, as it pleased God, in
vain. I was not, indeed, in a fit state for such a rencontre ; for
had we met, he or 1 would surely have perished.
I returned to Dubhn, and, as my mind grew cooler, thanked
heaven that I had not personaUy found him. I, however, pub
lished advertisements -widely, offering a reward for his appre
hension ; and at length he surrendered into the prison of Mary
borough. The assizes approached : and I cannot give the sequel of
this melancholy story better than by a short recital of GiUespie's
extraordinary trial, and the stiU more extraordinary incidents
which terminated the transaction.
The judges arrived at the assize to^wn — it was during the
summer assizes of 1788 — accompanied in the usual way by the

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 91
High Sheriff, Mr Lyons of Watercastle, and escorted by numer
ous baUiffs and a grand cavalcade. Mr. Lyons was a gentleman
of taste and elegance, who had traveUed much ; he possessed
a smaU fortune, and a beautiful cottage ornie on the banks of
the Nore, near Lord De Vesci's. Mr. Thomas Kemmis, after
wards crown sohcitor of Ireland, was the attorney very judi
ciously selected by Captain GiUespie to conduct his defence.
The mode of choosing juries in criminal cases is weU known
to every lawyer, and its description would be uninteresting to an
ordinary reader. Suffice it to say, that by the methods then
used of selecting, arranging, and summoning the panel, a sheriff'
or sub-sheriff, in good understanding with a prisoner, might
afford him very considerable if not decisive aid. And when it is
considered that juries must be unanimous, even one dissentient
or obstiaate juror being capable of effectuaUy preventing any
conviction ; and further, that the charge we are aUuding to was
that of murder or homicide, occurring in consequence of a duel,
on the same ground and at the same time ; it might fairly be
expected that the culprit would stand a good chance of acquittal
from mihtary men.
To select, by management, a mditary jury, was therefore the
natural object of the prisoner and his friends ; and in fact, the
hst appeared with a number of half-pay officers at the head of it,
who, as gentlemen, were naturaUy pained by seeing a brother-
officer and a man of most prepossessing appearance, in the dock
for murder. The two prisoners chaUenged forty-eight ; the list
was expended, and the prosecutor was driven back to show cause
why he objected to the first thirteen. No legal ground for such
objection could be supported, and thus, out of twelve jurors, no
less than ten were miUtary offlcers. The present Lord Downes,
and the late Judge Fletcher, were the prisoner's counsel.
On this, perhaps, the most interesting trial ever known in
that county, numerous witnesses ha-ving been examined, the
principal facts proved for the prosecution were : — that after
M'Kenzie and my brother had fired four shots without effect, the
latter said he hoped enough had been done for both theh honours.

92 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
at the same time holding out his hand to M'Kenzie, whose
second. Captain GiUespie, exclaimed, that his friend should not
be satisfied, and that the affair should proceed The spectators
combmed in considering it concluded, and a smaU chcle having
been formed, my brother, who persisted in uttering his pacific
wishes, interposed some harsh expressions towards GiUespie, who
thereupon losing aU control over his temper suddenly threw a
handkerchief to WUham Barrington, asking if he dared to take
a comer of that. The unfortunate boy, fuU of spirit and intre
pidity, snatched at the handkerchief, and at the same moment
received a bad from GiUespie through his body. So close
were they together, that his coat appeared scorched by the
powder. He feU, and was carried to a cabin hard by, where he ex-
phed in great agony the same evening. As he was in the act of
fading, his pistol went off. GiUespie immediately fled, and was
foUowed by three of his own dragoons, whom he had brought
with hhn, and who were present at the transaction, but whom he
decUned examining on the trial The spectators were very
numerous, aud scarcely a dry eye left the field.
Capt. Gdlespie's defence rested upon an assertion on his part
of hritatiag expressions having been used by my brother, adding
that the cock of his own pistol was knocked off by my brother's
fire. But that very fact proved everythiag against him ; be
cause his shot must have been fired and have taken effect in my
brother's body previously ; for if the cock had been broken in
the first place, Gdlespie's pistol could not have gone off.
Judge Bradstreet, who tried the ' prisoners, held it to be
clearly murder by law. A verdict of even manslaughter must,
he contended, be returned by a forced or rather false construc
tion ; — ^but acquit GiUespie generaUy, the jury could not.
The prosecution was not foUowed up against M'Kenzie,
whose conduct throughout had been that of an offlcer and a
gentleman, and who had Ukewise desired reconcUiation. Of
course he was acquitted.
The jury had much difficulty in making up their verdict.

OP HIS OWN TIMES. 93
Some of them, being men of considerable reputation, hesitated
long. They could not acquit ; they luould not convict — and
hence a course was taken which corresponded neither with the
law nor the evidence. — A verdict of "justifiable Jwmicide" was
returned, in consequence of which Captain GiUespie was dis
charged on his recognisance to appear in the court of King's
Bench the ensuing term, and plead his Majesty's pardon.
Thus was compromised the justice of the country. Thus
commenced the brUUant career of that general whom the muni
ficence of the British nation has immortalised by a monument
amongst her heroes ! Thus did the blood of one of the finest
youths of Ireland first whet GiUespie's appetite for that course
of glorious butchery to which he owed his subsequent elevation.
But conscience is retributive, and Heaven is just. I hear that
he was never happy after ; intrepid to excess, he often tempted
fate ; and his restless and remorseful existence was at length
terminated by a Gentoo under the waUs of Bangalore.*
Scarcely was the melancholy trial referred to over, when the
case was succeeded by another almost ia the opposite extreme ;
altogether too ludicrous to form the termination of so serious a
busiaess, but at the same time too extraordinary to be omitted.
It was, in its way, as unparaUeled an affah as that which gave
rise to it.
On the evening of the trial, my second brother, Henry French
Barrington, a gentleman of considerable estate, of good temper but
irresistible impetuosity, came to me. He was a complete country
gentleman, utterly ignorant of the law, its terms and proceed
ings ; and as I was the first of my name who had ever followed
any profession, the army excepted, my opinion, so soon as I
became a counseUor, was considered by him as oracular.
Having caUed me aside out of the bar-room, my brother
seemed greatly agitated, and informed me that a friend of ours,
who had seen the jury-Ust, declared that it had been decidedly
packed ! He asked me what he ought to do ? I told him, we
* The shallowness, incoherency, and bad taste of those ejaculations need no
comment. Gillespie was kUled in rashly storming a Ghoorka fort in Bengal.

94 BARRINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
should have "chaUenged the array." "That was my own
opinion, Jonah," said he, " and I wdl do it now ! "
He said no more, but departed instantly, and I did not think
again upon the subject. An hour after, however, my brother
sent in a second request to see me. I found him, to aU appear
ance, quite cool and tranqud. "I have done it," cried he, ex
ultingly ; " 'twas better late than never ! " and with that he
produced from his coat-pocket a long queue and a handful of
powdered hah and curls. " See here ! " continued he, " the
cowardly rascal ! "
" Heavens ! " cried I, " French, are you mad ? "
" Mad ! " replied he, " no, no ! I foUowed your o^wn advice
exactly. I went dhectly after I left you to the grand jury-room
to ' challenge the array', and there I chaUenged the head of the
array, that cowardly Lyons ! He peremptordy refused to fight
me, so I knocked him down before the grand jury and cut off
his curls and tad ; see, here they are, the rascal ! and my brother
Jack is gone to fiog the Sub-sheriff."
I was thunder-struck, and almost thought my brother was
crazy, since he was obviously not in Uquor at aU. But after
some inquhy, I found that, like many other country gentlemen,
he took words in their commonest acceptation. He had seen
the High Sheriff coming in with a great " array',' and had thus
conceived my suggestion as to chaUenging the array was Uteral ;
and accordingly, repahing to the grand jury dining-room, had
called the High Sheriff aside, told him he had omitted chal
lenging him before the trial, as he ought to have done according
to advice of counsel, but that it was better late than never, and
that he must immediately come out and fight him. Mr. Lyons,
conceiving my brother to be intoxicated, drew back, and refused the
invitation in a most peremptory manner. French then coUared
him, tripped up his heels, and putting his foot on his breast, cut
off his side-curls and queue with a carving-knife which an old
waiter named Spedding, who had been my father's butler, and
liked the thing, had readUy brought him from the dinner-table.
Mr. Flood, one of the grand jury, afterwards informed me.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 95
that no human gravity could possibly withstand the astonish
ment and ludicrous figure of the mutdated High Sheriff ; the
laugh, consequently, was both loud and long. Nobody chose to
interfere in the concern ; and as Mr. Lyons had sustained no
bodily injury, he received very little condolement amongst the
country gentlemen
My situation in this curious denouement was truly to be
commiserated, since I should be considered as the ad^viser of my
brother ; and I therefore determined to consult Mr. Downes,
GiUespie's counsel, as what was best to be done in the matter.
Mr. (afterwards Lord) Downes, always proud, icy, and de
corous, seemed to think my brother's case irremediable, and
advised French to fly and make terms, if possible. " Fly ! "
said French Barrington, when I informed him of the suggestion ;
" no, no ! teU CounseUor Thingumbob to go to the baU to-night,
and he'U see more of the matter." In fact, my brother went to
the baU-room ; tied the Sheriff's curls and queue to a lamp
which hung in the centre of the room, got upon a form, and
made a loud proclamation of the whole transaction. The re
monstrances of mothers, and other discreet efforts, were totaUy
vain ; the ghls Uked the fun, and a succession of different sets did
honour in turn to Mr. Lyons' late queue and curls. A club was
consequently proposed, to be caUed the Curl Club, and to be held
every summer assize ; and this was for several years kept up.
The ensuing morning my brother dressed up the bridle of
his hunter with the curls and queue, newly powdered ; and
having paraded the streets for a considerable time, rode home,
and was never caUed to account or molested on the subject in
any way whatsoever.*
Here the matter ended. No appUcation was made to the
King's Bench. It could not have been done -without invol-ving
the question as to the way in which the jury was constituted ;
and since that matter would not bear sifting, the circumstances
were suffered to remain without further investigation.
* The late Count d' Alton assured me of the truth of aU those extraordinary
particulars, which I had strongly doubted.

96 barrington's peesona:l sketches

ENTRANCE INTO PARLIAMENT.
The day on which I first took my seat in the Irish ParUament
for the City of Tuam, I stUl reflect on as one of the most grati-
fyiag of my Ufe. The circumstance, abstractedly, was but of
secondary consideration ; but its occurrence brought back to my
mind the events of past ages and the high respectabiUty of the
race from which I sprang. I almost fancied, as I entered the
House, that I could see my forefathers, ranged upon those seats
which they had so long and so honourably occupied in the senate
of theh country, welcoming theh descendant to that post which
had not for a few years past been filled by any member of the
famdy. In fact, the purer part of my ambition was hereby
gratified. I felt myself an entirely independent representative
of an equally independent nation — as a man assuming his proper
station in society, not acquiring a new one.*
I confess I always had, and stdl continue to have, and to
nourish, the pride which arises from ha^ving been born a gentle-
man.f I am aware that wealth, and commerce, and perhaps
talent, have, in modern times, occasioned famdy pride to be
classed in the rank of foUies, but I feel it nevertheless. If it be
even a crime, I am culpable ; if a foUy, I submit to be regarded
as imbecUe. The sensations I experienced were indeed alto
gether deUghtful upon findiag myself seated under that grand
and solemn dome. I looked around me, and saw the most dig
nified men of that day — the ablest orators — many of the best-
bred courtiers, and some of the most unsophisticated patriots,*
in the emphe !
* This paragraph outherods Pepys !
t An advantage of which any man may be modestly proud ; and no man
meanly jealous.
t An unsophisticated patriot ! Verily ours is a rich vernacular.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 97
I was very greatly moved and excited : it was not excite
ment of an ephemeral or feverish character irrepressible in a
young barrister of two years' standing. On the contrary, my
emotions had theh source in a tranqud, deep-seated, perhaps
proud, satisfaction, impossible to be clearly described, and al
most impossible to be felt by any but such as might be placed
in circumstances precisely simdar.
There were members present, I have aheady said, with
whom I was personally acquainted. My friend, Sh John
PameU, partly, I am sure, on my account, and partly, no doubt,
¦with a view to the ser"vice of government, lost no time in intro
ducing me to many of his own particular friends.
I dined ¦with him on that day : he was then ChanceUor of
the Exchequer. The entire party I do not recollect ; but I
remember perfectly those indi^viduals of it ¦with whom I subse
quently cultivated acquaintance. Amongst them were Major
Hobart (since Lord Buckinghamshire), Isaac Corry,* Sir John
(shice Lord) de Blacquiere, Robert Thoroton, White, Marcus
Beresford, Lord Clare's nephew, the present Lord Oriel, then
Speaker,! Thomas Burgh of Bert, Sir Hercules Langreish,J and
James Cuffe (since Lord Tyrawley). The scene was new to me :
— hitherto, my society in Dublin had naturaUy faUen amongst
the members of my own profession ; we were all barristers, and
I felt myself but a barrister ; and though certahdy we formed at
that time the second-best society in Ireland, it was inferior to
that of which I had now become a member. I found myself, in
fact, associated as an equal in a circle of legislators whose good-
breeding, wit, and con-viviahty were mingled with poUtical aud
general information. The first steps of the ladder were mounted ;
and as meanwhde Sir John's champagne was exceUent, and
quickly passed round, my sphits rose to a pitch far higher than
* Afterwards ChanceUor of the Exchequer on the dismissal of PameU.
t John Foster, last Speaker of the Irish Commons, a resolute anti-unionist.
The present Viscount Massareene is his great-grandson, by a daughter of H.
Dean Grady, whose opposition was bought up.
t Sir Hercules was secured hy a Commissionership of the Revenue, and
£15,000, for his patronage of Knoctopher. ITow spelled Langrishe.
VOL. I. H

98 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
in the morning, and any talent for conversation or anecdote
which I might possess involuntarily commg out, Sh John ParneU,
shakmg his fat sides with laughter, said to me, " Barrmgton,
you'U do !" upon which Sir Hercules Langreish, who had very
much the tone of a Methodist preacher, yet was one of the
wittiest men m Ireland, hnmediately said,—" No ; we must
have another trial ;" and a day was fixed to dine with him.
My acquaintance soon augmented to a degree almost incon
venient. I was not only the frequent guest of many of the dis
tinguished characters of Ireland, but was considered as an early
and favoured candidate for any professional promotion which the
shortness of my standing at the Bar would admit of
Reflecting, soon after I had taken my seat, on the novel
nature of my situation, I felt that it was beset by considerable
difficulties. I aUude to the decision necessary for me to come to
with respect to the line of politics I meant to pursue. Political
parties at that time ran high, though but Uttle individual
hostUity existed. Grattan, the two Ponsonbys, Curran, Bro-wn-
low, Forbes, Bowes, Daly, ConnoUy, Arthur Brown, and numer
ous other most respectable personages, were then linked together
in a phalanx of opposition, which, under the name of whiggery,
not only assaded the government upon every feasible occasion,
but was always proposing measures which, under the then
existing system, were utterly inadmissible. The opposition had
the advantage in point of abdity, and therefore nothing but
supreme talent had any chance, amongst them, of rendering its
possessor useful or valued.
The supporters of the Irish Government, as I have said, were
certainly inferior, except in patronage and power, to the opposi
tion by which they were assaded. But they Uved sociaUy:
there was a sort of convivial union amongst them, which,
whether in high or low hfe, is, of aU other ties, for a whde most
binding upon my countrymen. It was therefore rather incon
sistent in Lord Clare to give offence, as he did, to many of the
most respectable gentlemen of Ireland by caUing the Whigs an
" eating and drinking club," since the sarcasm might, at least

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 99
with equal justice, have been retorted on the supporters of His
Majesty's Government. All the great constitutional questions
were, in 1790, supposed to have been arranged. Stdl the oppo
sition sought a more radical reform, to which the government
would not accede. They wrangled about every trifle — and that
. at a time when the local concerns of the country were advanchig
to the highest pitch of prosperity. To neither party, however,
attached any dishonourable stigma, which should prevent an
honest man from joining their ranks ; and meanwhde I sought
celebrity and advancement. The coast was clear before me. I
was my own master, and free to choose my own course. In case
of my connecting myself -with the Whigs, I saw that I must play
but a very inferior part in theh game. I felt that amidst such
an assemblage of talent,* I had but Uttle right to expect emi
nence, and stiU less probabiUty of acquhing professional ad
vancement, even if my friends should become victorious. But,
above aU, I reflected that what at first, -view had appeared to me
a blaze of constitutional patriotism, d^windled, on a closer inspec
tion, into what is generaUy caUed party.f
The country had prospered beyond aU possible anticipation,
and was stdl further advancing in prosperity, under the then
existing system of administration. I did not perceive that any
immediate change of men or of measures was at aU in prospect,
nor that it was at that moment necessary, or even desirable. My
immediate personal connections were on the side of the govem
ment. I had always doubted the sincerity of the Whigs : my
doubts were now reaUsed, and, on the whole consideration, I de
termined to attach myself to the administration. I had pre
viously voted with them on the choice of a Speaker ; but that I
did not consider as constituting any pledge as to my future
conduct. I voted for Mr. Foster, as the friend of Sh John
* Whatever chance of distinction there may be for moderate abUity among
men of talent, there is much less for it when acting against them. The ambition
to shine ia the dark, like rotten wood, is of a miserable kind ; yet we see it every
day. t A mere party-spirit could never have kept the anti-unionists together ;
higher motives must necessarily have existed.

100 barrington's PEESONAL SKETCHES
ParneU, and because I considered hhn more fitting for the station
than his opponent Mr. WilUam Ponsonby.
Thus, my mind being at length made up, I determined to
render myself of some importance to the side I had adopted.
The common course of desultory debate would have led to no
distinction. I decided either to rise or faU ; and with this ¦view,
resolved to fly at once at the highest game, in which attempt
even if I should not succeed, the trial itself would be honourable.
My earhest effort was therefore directed against the two most
celebrated speakers of that period, Grattan and Curran ; and on
the first day I rose, I exhibited a specimen of what I may now
caU true arrogance. The novelty of such unexpected effrontery
surprised the House, and afterwards surprised myself. I launched
into a strong phdippic on the conduct of the most able and re
spectable opposition that Ireland had ever possessed. I foUowed
and traced the Whigs, as I thought, through aU theh meanderings
and designs. In a word, I surpassed the boundaries, not only of
what I had myself resolved, but of what common prudence and
propriety should have dictated. The government party, at the
same time, was evidently not gratified. Its members, no doubt,
considered me as a lost partisan, who had courted and caUed for
my own suppression ; and with some portion of the same feehng
myself, I sat do^wn almost ashamed of my forwardness, and
awaiting a severe chastisement. How then must I have
been surprised by the mUd and gentlemanly retorts which I
received from Grattan! whdst Curran's good temper never
showed itself more conspicuously than in his treating me merely
with wit and facetiousness. I was abashed and mortified on
contrasting the forbearance of those great men with my o^wn
intemperance. Had I perceived anything Uke contempt in that
forbearance, I reaUy beUeve I should have found it difficult to
resume my spirhs in the House ; but no such feeUng appeared
towards me, and it is most singular to say, that some incidents
which sprang from that very night's debate gave rise both to the
friendship of Mr. Grattan, with which I was afterwards honoured.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 101
and to the close intimacy between me and Mr. Curran, which was
never after interrupted.*
I had the good fortune, on that occasion, to make one fair
hit as to Grattan, which he afterwards told me he was much
pleased by. It came across me at the moment ; in fact, most of
the speeches I made have been impo-omptu. I never studied
a set speech in my life, except on law cases ; and perhaps
to this chcumstance I may honestly attribute an incorrectness
of language that frequently attended my best efforts.
Grattan had repeatedly assaded our side of the house, as " a
side from which aU pubUc vhtues had long been banished." I
observed, " that the right honourable gentleman had proved un
equivocaUy the falsehood of his o-wn assertion, that pubhc ¦virtue
was confined to on£, side of the house — for I had had the honour
of seeing the right honourable gentleman himself on both." I
aUuded to his ha-ving supported government against Mr. Flood,
after the vote of £50,000t by parhament. This joke was loudly
cheered, and perhaps somewhat contributed to save me from
discomfiture. From that day I attached myseK zealously and sincerely to
the administoation of Lord Westmoreland. I became more or
less intimate with almost every member of my party in parlia
ment. I formed close and lasting friendships with Edward
Cooke, the unfortunate and lamented Robert Thoroton, Isaac
Corry, and Sh John de Blacquiere ; and it was not very long
before the opposition also opened their con-vivial ranks to receive
me. Curran and Arthur Bro-wn were the earUest of my intimates
on that side the house ; and before 1792 had exphed I felt
myself as happy on aU points, and as much befriended, as any
man of my standing who had preceded me.
Before I went into parhament, I had become acquainted -with
" This scene is happUy described ; and the style is worthy of the pen that
wrote The Rise and Fall of the Irish Nation, where pages crowd with examples
of vigorous and polished composition. In these ' ' Sketches "the author indulged
in pri-nleges of ease which he thought belonged to them.
t To reward Grattan's services to the country in asserting the independence of
parliament, and obtaining a free trade.

102 BARRINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
Mr. R. Thoroton, who had come over to Ireland with the Duke
of Rutland. He had the manner of a coxcomb, but the heart of
a friend and the sentiments of a gentleman. He was clerk of the
House of Commons ; and, being by no means a common man,
formed a necessary part of aU our societies. He and I Uved much
together ; and I found the intercourse very advantageous, siace
my friend knew everything that was going forward, and, under
the rose, set me right on many occasions. At the same time, 1
was aware that chcumstances existed which were the cause, to
him, of great anxiety ; and finaUy, the death of Mr. Thoroton by
his own hand deprived me of one of the sincerest and most use
ful friends I ever possessed.
But amongst the foremost of aU those persons who, from first
to last, endeavoured to do me service, was a man universaUy
esteemed for his gentlemanly manners, and as universaUj^ abused
for public jobbing. As to the latter, it concerned not me ; whdst
his friendship was of the greatest advantage.
Sir John (afterwards Lord) de Blacquiere, who was I beUeve
of Swiss descent, had been colonel of a regiment of hea-vy cavahy
in Ireland ; had acted as secretary of legation in France with
Lord Harcourt, and, having succeeded him there for a short time
as minister, came to Ireland with his lordship as principal secre
tary. He became a permanent resident, attached himself to that
side of politics whence only he could derive the great object of
his exertions, a revenue sufficiently ample to enable him to en
tertain his friends as weU as any other person I had pre-viously
met. Nobody ever understood eating and drinking better than Sh
John de Blacquiere ; and no man ever was better seconded in
the foiTuer respect than he was by his cook Mrs. Smith, whom
he brought from Paris, after he had been minister there. Sir
John was one of the old school ; and with aU the playful good-
breeding by which it was distinguished, he had nothing of that
starch pride which, in more recent times, has supplanted con-vi-
viality without making men either ¦wiser, better, or happier.
Sh John certainly was a pluralist, enjoying, at one time, the
first, the middle, and the last pension on the Irish civd Ust. He

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 103
was director of the pubhc works in Dublin ; and to his jobbing
is that capital indebted for its wide streets, pa^ving, lighting, and
convenient fountains. He made as much as he could of these
works, it is true ; but every farthing he acquhed in Ireland he
expended in it. If his money came from the pubUc purse, it was
distributed to the pubUc benefit : if he received pensions from
the crown, butchers, bakers, and other tradesmen pocketed every
shilling of it. He knew employment to be the best species of
charity. In short, Sh John de Blacquiere was as much abused,
and as much regarded, as any pubUc character of any period.*
* Blacquiere had an utter disregard of money except in its acquisition ; and a
heart and hand ready to reUeve distress. Many of his greatest friends were of the
opposition. He was amiable, frank, convivial, Uberal ; of no mean capacity in
debate or council ; and of clear, energetic administrative abiUty.

104 barrington's personal SKETCHES

SINGULAR CUSTOMS IN THE IRISH
PARLIAMENT.
A VERY singular custom prevailed in the Irish House of Com
mons which never was adopted in England, nor have I ever seen
it mentioned in print. The description of it may be amusing.
On the day whereon the routine business of the budget was
to be opened, for the purpose of voting suppUes, the Speaker in
vited the whole of the members to dinner ia the House, ia his
own and the adjoining chambers. Several peers were accustomed
to mix in the company ; and I beUeve an equaUy happy, joyous,
and convivial assemblage of legislators never was seen together.
All distinctions as to government or opposition parties were
totaUy laid aside ; harmony, -wit, wine, and good humour reigoing
triumphant. The speaker, clerk, chanceUor of the exchequer,
and a very few veteran financiers, remained in the House tdl the
necessary routine was gone through, and then joined their happy
comrades, the party seldom breaking up tiU midnight.
On the ensuing day the same festivities were repeated ; but
on the third day, when the report was to be brought in, and the
business discussed in detail, the scene totaUy changed. The
con-viviaUsts were now metamorphosed into downright pubhc
declamatory enemies, and, ranged on opposite sides of the House,
assaded each other -without mercy. Every questionable item was
debated — every proposition deliberately discussed — and more
zealous or assiduous senators could nowhere be found than in the
very members who, during two days, had appeared to commit the
whole funds of the nation to the management of half-a-dozen
arithmeticians. But all this was consonant to the national character of the
individuals. Set them at table, and no men enjoyed themselves

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 105
hah so much ; set them to business, no men ever worked with
more earnestness and effect. A steady Irishman wdl do more in
an hour, when fairly engaged upon a matter which he under
stands, than any other countryman, so far at least as my ob
servation has gone, in two. The persons of whom I am speak
ing were extraordinarily quick and sharp ! I am, however,
ready to admit that the lower orders of officials, such as mere
clerks in the pubhc offices, exhibited no claim to a participation
in the praise I have given their superiors : they were, on the
other hand, frequently confused and incorrect ; and amongst that
description of persons I beUeve there were then fewer competent
men than in most countries.
Another custom in the House gave rise to a very curious anec
dote which I shaU here mention. The members formerly attended
the House of Commons in fuU dress — an arrangement first broken
through by the following circumstance : —
A very important constitutional question was debating be
tween government and the opposition ; a question, by-the-by,' at
which my EngUsh reader wiU probably feel surprised— namely,
" as to the appUcation of a sum of £60,000, then lying unappro
priated in the Irish Treasury, being a balance after paying all
debts and demands upon the country or its establishments." The
numbers seemed to be nearly poised, although it had been sup
posed that the majority would incline to give it to the king,
whilst the opposition would recommend laying it out upon the
country ; when the serjeant-at-arms reported that a member
wanted to force into the House undressed, in dirty boots, and
splashed up to his shoulders.
The Speaker could not oppose custom to privdege, and was
necessitated to admit hhn. It proved to be Mr. Tottenham of
BaUycamy, County Wexford, covered with mud, and wearing a
pah of huge jack-boots ! Having heard that the question was
Ukely to come on sooner than he expected, he had mounted his
horse at BaUycarny, set off in the night, ridden nearly sixty mdes
up to the ParUament House direct, and rushed in, without wash
ing or cleaning himself, to vote for the coumtry. He arrived just

106 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
at the critical moment ! and critical it was, for the numbers were
in truth equal, and his casting vote gave a majority of one to " the
country " party.
This anecdote could not die whde the Irish Parliament Uved ;
and I recoUect " Tottenham in his boots " remaining, down to a
very late period, a standing toast at certain patriotic Irish tables.
Being on the topic, to me stdl an interesting one, I must remark
a singular practical distinction in the rules of the Irish and EngUsh
Houses of Commons. In England the House is cleared of
strangers for every division, and no person is supposed to see or
know in what way the representatives of the people exercise theh
trust. In Ireland, on the contrary, the di-visions were pubhc, and
red and black Usts were immediately published of the voters on
every important occasion. The origin of this distinction I can
not explain, but it must be o-wned that the Irish was the more
constitutional practice.
An interesting scene at which I was present merits especial
description. In my time no other instance of the kind has oc
curred in the British Empire. As it forms an important record
with relation to the independent poUtical state of Ireland at the
period, and has not yet been made the subject of historical ob
servation, it cannot fail to be interesting. I aUude to the trial of
a peer of the realm of Ireland for murder, by the House of Lords
in DubUn, after the acknowledgment of Irish independence.
The grand and awful solemnity of that trial made a deep im
pression on my memory ; and, coupled with the recoUection that
it proclaimed indisputably the sovereignty of the Irish nation, its
effect on a contemplative mind was of a penetrating nature.
Robert, Earl of Kingston, stood charged with the murder of
Colonel Fitzgerald, by shooting him in his bed-chamber. The
relation of the chcumstances of that event would only serve to
recaU painful recoUections long since sunk into obU-vion. I
therefore abstain from any further aUusion to them. Justice re
quired the trial of the accused party at the bar of his peers : —
but as no simdar case had occurred in Ireland within the memory
of man, it was requisite to consult precedents upon the subject,

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 107
in order to render his Lordship's trial conformable to the Lex Par-
liamentaria common to both countries. These precedents were
accordingly sought by the proper officers ; and as his Lordship
was very popular, and his provocation maddenhig, and as all
were ignorant of the evidence which was to be brought forward,
the whole affah was of a most exciting nature to every man,
more especiaUy to those individuals who possessed the noble
Lord's acquaintance.*
Owing to the great number of attendants, the fuU muster of peers,
and the extensive preparations of every kind necessary, the House
of Lords was supposed to be insufficiently large for the occasion.
The Irish House of Peers was considered one of the most
beauthid and commodious chambers possible. It combined
every appearance of dignity and comfort : the wads were covered
¦with tapestry representing the battle of the Boyne, and the entire
coup-d'mil was grand and interesting ; but being, as I have said,
considered too smaU for aU the purposes of the trial in question,
the House of Commons was made ready in preference.
Whoever had seen the interior of the Irish House of Com
mons must have admired it as one of the most chaste and classic
models of architecture. A perfect rotunda, with Ionic pdasters,
enclosed a corridor which ran round the interior. The cupola, of
immense height, bestowed a magnificence which could rarely be
surpassed ; whdst a gaUery, supported by columns divided into
compartments, and accommodating 700 spectators, commanded
an uninterrupted -view of the chamber. "}¦
This gaUery on every important debate was fided, not by
reporters, but by the superior orders of society — the first rows
being generaUy occupied by ladies of fashion and rank, who
diffused a brilUance over and excited a gaUant decorum in that
assembly, which the British House certainly does not appear
very sedulously to cultivate.
* The search for precedents, the popularity, the provocation, the excitement,
are curiously concatenated. But to discerning readers these Uttle things are
happily invisible.
t " What is Dublin to Nenagh !" exclaimed a Tipperary man, after five years'
residence in the former.

108 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
This fine chamber was now fitted up in such a way as to give
it the most solemn aspect. One compartment of seats in the
body of the House was covered -with scarlet cloth, and appropri
ated to the peeresses and their daughters, who ranged themselves
according to the table of precedence. The Commons, their fami
Ues and friends, Uned the gaUeries. The whole house was
superbly carpeted, and the Speaker's chair newly adorned for the
Lord ChanceUor. On the whole, it was by far the most impres
sive and majestic spectacle ever exhibited within those walls.
At length the Peers entered, according to theh rank, ia fuU
dress, and richly robed Each man took his seat in profound
silence ; and even the ladies (which was rather extraordinary)
were hkewise stdl The ChanceUor, bearing a white wand,
having taken his chah, the most interesting moment of aU was
at hand, and its approach reaUy made me shudder.
Sh Chichester Fortescue, king-at-arms, hi his party-coloured
robe, entered first, carrying the armorial bearings of the accused
nobleman emblazoned on his shield ; he placed himself on the
left of the bar. Next entered Lord Edngston himself, in deep
mourning, moving with a slow and melancholy step. His eyes
were fixed on the ground, and, walking up to the bar, he was
placed next to the king-at-arms, who then held his armorial
shield on a level with his shoulder.
The supposed executioner then approached, bearing a large
hatchet with an immense broad blade. It was painted black
except within about two inches of the edge, which was of bright
poUshed steel. Placing himseK at the bar on the right of the
prisoner, he raised the hatchet about as high as his Lordship's
neck, but with the shining edge averted ; and thus he remained
duriag the whole of the trial. The forms, I understood, pre
scribed that the shining edge should be averted untd the pro
nouncing of judgment, when, if it were unfavourable, the blade
was instantly to be turned by the executioner toivarUs the prisoner,
indicating at once his sentence and his fate.
I could not reconcde my mind to the thought of such a con
summation. I knew the late Lord Kingston, and had a high

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 109
regard for him ; and hence I felt a very uneasy sensation, inas
much as I -was profoundly ignorant of what would be the termi
nation of the awful scene.
The usual legal ceremonies were now entered on. The charge
was read ; the prisoner pleaded not gudty ; and the trial pro
ceeded. A proclamation was made, first generaUy, then name by
name, for the witnesses for the prosecution to come forward. It is
not easy to describe the anxiety and suspense excited as each name
was caUed over. The eyes of everybody were directed to the bar
where the witnesses must enter, and every httle movement of the
persons who thronged it was held to be intended to make room
for some accuser. None however appeared. Thrice they were
caUed, but in vain ; and it was then announced, that " no
witnesses appearing to substantiate the charge of murder against
Eobert, Earl of Elngston, the trial should terminate in the accus
tomed manner." The ChanceUor proceeded to put the question ;
and every Peer, according to his rank, arose, and dehberately
walking by the chair in which the ChanceUor was seated, placed
his hand, as he passed, solemnly on his heart, and repeated,
" Not gudty, upon my honour ! " (The bishops were, very pro
perly, precluded from voting in these criminal cases.) After aU
had passed, the ceremony having occupied an hour, the ChanceUor
rose and declared the opinion of the Peers of Ireland — " That
Eobert, Earl of Kingston, was not gudty of the charge against
him." His Lordship then broke his wand, descended from his
chah, and thus ended the trial ; most interesting, because it had
at once a strong poUtical and constitutional bearing, and affected
a nobleman universaUy beloved. The result was highly satisfac
tory to every one who had learned the chcumstances which led
to the fatal event for which the Earl of Kingston was arraigned,
whose conduct, though strictly justffiable neither in law nor
morahty, inight have been adopted by the best of men under
simdar provocation.*
* The faUing tlu-ough of the trial wUl be a great disappointment to many ; but
many wUl read the description of the preparations with almost as much deUght
as if half the Peers of the kingdom had been brought to the block hy it.

110 barrington's personal SKETCHES

THE SEVEN BARONETS.
Amongst those parUamentary gentlemen frequently to be found
in the coffee-room of the House, were certain baronets of very
singular character, who, untd some di-vision caUed them to vote,
passed the iatermediate time in high con-vi-viaUty. Sh John
Stuart HamUton, a man of smaU fortune and large stature, pos
sessing a most Uberal appetite both for sohds and fluids — much
wit, more humour, and indefatigable cheerfulness — might be
regarded as theh leader.
Sir Richard Musgrave, who, except on the abstoact topics of
poUtics, reUgion, martial law, his -wife, the Pope, the Pretender,
the Jesuits, Napper Tandy, and the whipping-post, was generaUy
in his senses, formed, duriag those intervals, a very entertaining
addition to the company.
Sh Edward Newenham, member for Dublin County, afforded
a whimsical variety by the affectation of early and exclusive
transatlantic inteUigence. By repeatedly writing letters of con
gratulation, he had at length extorted a reply from General
Washington, which he exhibited upon every occasion, gi^ving it
to be understood, by significant nods, that he knew vastly more
than he thought proper to communicate.
Sh Vesey Colclough, member for County Wexford, who
understood books and ¦wine better than any of the party, had aU
his days treated money so extremely iU, that it would continue
no longer in his service ! and the dross, as he termed it, ha"ving
enthely forsaken him, he bequeathed an immense landed property,
during his Ufe, to the uses of custodiums, elegits, and judgments,
which never fad to place a gentleman's acres under the especial
guardianship of the attorneys. He was father to that exceUent
man, John Colclough, who was kUled at Wexford, and to the

OF HIS OWN TIMES. Ill
present Cesar Colclough, whose faU might probably have afforded
rather less cause of regret.
Sh Vesey added much to the pleasantry of the party by
occasionaUy forcing on them deep subjects of Uterature, of which
few of his companions could make either head or tad ; but to
avoid the imputation of ignorance, they offei gave the most
ludicrous proofs of it on literary subjects, geography, and astro
nomy, with which he etemaUy bored them.
Sh Frederick Flood, also member for County Wexford, whose
exhibitions in the Imperial Parliament have made him tolerably
weU known in England, was very different in his habits from the
last-mentioned baronet : his love of money and spirit of ostenta
tion never losing theh hold throughout every action of his Ufe.
He was but a second-rate blunderer in Ireland. The buUs of
Sh Boyle Roche, of whom we shaU speak hereafter, generaUy
involved aphorisms of sound sense, whilst Sh Frederick's pos
sessed the quaUfication of being pure nonsense.
He was a pretty, dapper man, very good-tempered ; and had
a droU habit, of which he could never effectuaUy break himself,
at least in Ireland : — whenever a person at his back whispered
or suggested anything to him whdst he was speaking in public,
¦without a moment's reflection he almost always involuntarUy
repeated the suggestion literatim.
Sir Frederick was once making a long speech in the Irish
Parhament, lauding the transcendent merits of the Wexford
magistracy, on a motion for extendiag the criminal jurisdiction in
that county, to keep down the disaffected. As he was closing a
most turgid oration, by declaring "that the said magistracy
ought to receive some signal mark of the Lord Lieutenant's
favour," — John Egan, who was rather meUow, aud sitting behind
him, jocularly whispered, "And be whipped at the cart's tad;" —
" And be whipped at the cart's tail !" repeated Sir Frederick un
consciously, amidst peals of the most uncontroUable laughter.
Sh John Blacquiere flew at higher game than the other
baronets, though he occasionaUy feU into the trammels of Sh
John HamUton. Sh John Blacquiere was a little deaf of one ear.

112 barrington's personal SKETCHES
for which circumstance he gave a very singular reason ; his seat,
when secretary, was the outside one on the treasury bench, next to
a gangway ; and he said that so many members used to come per-
petuaUy to whisper him, and the buzz of importunity was so
heavy and continuous, that before one claimant's words had got
out of his ear, the demand of another forced its way in, tdl the ear
drum, being overcharged, absolutely burst ! This, he said, turned
out conveniently enough, as he was then obUged to stuff the organ
tight, and teU every gentleman that his physician had dh-eeted
hhn not to use that ear at aU, and the other as Uttle as possible !
SU John Stuart HamUton played hhn one day, in the cor
ridor of the House of Commons, a trick which was a source of
great entertainment to aU parties. Joseph Hughes, a country
farmer and neighbour of Sir John Stuart HamUton, who knew
nothing of great men, and had very seldom been in Dublin, was
hard pressed to raise some money to pay the fine on a renewal
of a bishop's lease — his only property. He came directly to Sh
John, who, I beUeve, had himseK drunk the farmer's spring
pretty dry, whdst he could get anything out of it. As they were
standing together in one of the corridors of the Parhament House,
Sh John Blacquiere stopped to say something to his brother
baronet : his star, which he frequently wore on rather shabby
coats, struck the farmer's eye, who had never seen such a thing
before ; and, coupling it -with the very black -visage of the wearer,
and his peculiar appearance altogether, our rustic was iaduced
humbly to ask Sh John Hamilton " who that man was -with the
sdver sign on his coat ?"
"Don't you know him?" cried Sir John ; "why, that is a
famous Jew money-broker."
" May be, please your honour, he could do my Uttle busiaess
for me," responded the honest farmer.
" Trial's aU !" said Sir John.
" rU pay weU," observed Joseph.
" That's precisely what he Ukes," replied the baronet.
" Pray, Sh John," contiaued the farmer, "what's those words
on his sign?" aUuding to the motto on the star.

of his own times. 113
" Oh," answered the other, " they are Latin, ' Tria juncta in
uno.' "
" And may I crave the English thereof ?" asked the unsuspect
ing countryman.
" Three in a bond," said Sh John.
" Then I can match him," exclaimed Hughes. — " You'll be
hard set," cried the maUcious baronet ; " however, you may try."
Hughes then approaching Blacquiere, who had removed but
a very smaU space, told him, -with great civdity and a significant
nod, that he had a Uttle matter to mention, which he trusted
would be agi'eeable to both parties. Blacquiere drew him aside
and desired him to proceed. " To come to the point then, at
once," said Hughes, " the money is not to say a great deal, and I
can give you three in a bond— myseK, and two good men as any
in Cavan, along -with me. I hope that wdl answer you. Three
in a bond ! safe good men."
Sh John, who wanted a supply himself, had the day before
sent to a person who had advertised the lending of money ; and,
on hearing the above harangue, taking for granted that it resulted
from his o-wn appUcation, he civUly assured Hughes that a bond
would be of no use to hiTn ! good bUls might be negotiated, or
securities turned into cash, though at a loss, but bonds would not
answer at aU.
" I think I can get another man, and that's one more than
your sign requires," said Hughes.
" I teU you," repeated Sh John, " bonds wiU not answer at aU,
sh!— bUls, bUls!"
" Then it's fitter," retorted the incensed farmer, " for you to be
after putting your sign there in your pocket, than wearing it to
deceive the Christians, you damn'd usurer ! you Jew, you !"
Nobody could be more amused by this denouement than Blac
quiere himseK, who told everybody he knew, of " Hamdton's
trick upon the countryman."
Sh Richard Musgrave, although he understood drawing the
long bow as weU as most people,* never patronised it in any other
* ' ' Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us ! " etc.
VOL. L I

114 barrington's PEESONAL SKETCHES
individual. Sh John Hamdton did not spare the exercise of tKis
accompUshment in teUing a story, one day, in the presence of
Sh Richard, who declared his increduUty rather abruptly, as in
deed was his constant manner. Sir John was much nettled at
the mode in which the other dissented, more particularly as there
were some strangers present. He asseverated the truth on his
word: Sh Richard, however, repeating his disbeUef, Sh John
HamUton furiously exclaimed — " You say you don't beUeve my
word!" " I can't beUeve it," repUed Sir Richard.
" WeU, then," said Sh John, " if you won't beUeve my word,
by G — I'U give it you under my 'hand," clenching at the same
moment his great fist.
The -witticism raised a general laugh, in which the parties
themselves joined, and in a moment aU was good humour. But
the company condemned both the offenders — Sh John for telling
a Ue, and Sh Richard for not believing it — to the payment of two
bottles of hock each.
Whomever the foUowing story may be fathered on, Sh John
Hamdton was certainly its parent. The Duke of Rutland, at
one of his levees, being at a loss, as probably most kings, princes,
and viceroys occasionaUy are, for something to say to every
person, remarked to Sir John Hamdton that there was "a
prospect of an exceUent crop : the timely raia," observed the
Duke, " ¦wdl brhig everything above ground"
" God forbid, your ExceUency !" exclaimed the courtier.
His ExceUency stared, whUst Sh John continued, sighing
heavUy as he spoke — " Yes, God forbid ! for I have got three
wives under it."
At one of those large convivial parties which distinguished
the table of Major Hobart, when he was Secretary in Ireland.
amongst the usual loyal toasts, " The wooden waUs of England"
was given. Sir John HamUton, in his turn, gave " The wooden
waUs of Ireland !" This toast being quite new to us aU, he was
asked for an explanation, upon which, filling a bumper, he very
gravely stood up, and, bowing to the Marquess of Waterford

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 115
and several country gentlemen who commanded county regiments,
he said — " My lords and gentlemen, I have the pleasure of gi^ving
you 'The wooden walls of Ireland '^^Ae colonels of militia !"
So broad but so good-humoured a jeu dJ esprit excited great
merriment ; the truth was forgotten in the jocularity, but the
epithet did not perish. I saw only one grave countenance in
the room, and that belonged to the late Marquess of "Waterford,
who was the proudest egotist I ever met with. He had a
tremendous squint, nor was there anything prepossessing in the
residue of his features to atone for that deformity. Nothing
can better exemphfy his lordship's opinion of himseK and others
than an observation I heard him make at Lord Portarlington's
table. Having occasion for a superlative degree of comparison
between two persons, he was at a loss for a cUmax. At length,
however, he luckUy hit on one. " That man was," said the
Marquess, "he was as superior as — as — as — I am to Lord
Eanelagh !"
I ¦wdl now advert to Sir Boyle Roche, who was, ¦without
exception, the most celebrated and entertaining anti-grammarian
in the Irish Parhament. I knew him intimately. He was of a
very respectable Irish famdy, and, in point of appearance, a
fine, bluff, soldier-like old gentleman. He had numerous good
quahties, and, ha-ving been long in the army, his ideas were full
of honour and etiquette, of discipline and bravery. He had a
claim to the title of Fermoy, which, however, he never pursued ;
and was brother to the famous Tiger Roche, who fought some
desperate duel abroad, and was near being hanged for it. Sh
Boyle was perfectly weU bred in aU his habits ; had been
appointed gentleman-usher at the Irish Court, and executed the
duties of that office to the day of his death -with the utmost
satisfaction to himseK as weU as to every one tn connection
with him. He was married to the eldest daughter of Sir
John Cave, Bart. ; and his lady, who was a " bas bleu," prema
turely injured Sh Boyle's capacity, it was said, by forcing him
to read Gibbon's Bise and Fall of the BortMn Empire,* whereat
* A matchless piece of humour.

116 barrington's PEESONAL SKETCHES
he was so crueUy puzzled, without being in the least amused,
that, in his cups, he often stigmatised the great historian as a
low feUow, who ought to have been kicked out of company
wherever he was, for turning people's thoughts away from their
prayers and their politics to what the devU himseK could make
neither head nor tail of !
His perpetuaUy bragging that Sir John Cave had given him
his eldest daughter afforded Curran an opportunity of repljdng —
" Ay, Sir Boyle, and depend on it, K he had had an older one
stdl he would have given her to you." Sh Boyle thought it
best to receive the repartee as a compUment, lest it should come
to her ladyship's ears, who, for several years back, had prohibited
Sir Boyle from all allusions to chronology.
This baronet had certainly one great advantage over aU
other buU and blunder makers — ^he seldom launched a blunder
from which some fine aphorism or maxim might not be easdy
extracted. When a debate arose in the Irish House of Commons
on the vote of a grant which was recommended by Sh John
PameU, ChanceUor of the Exchequer, as one not likely to be felt
burthensome for many years to come, it was observed, in reply,
that the House had no just right to load posterity with a
weighty debt for what could in no degree operate to theh
advantage. Sir Boyle, eager to defend the measures of govem
ment, immediately rose, and, in a few words, put forward the
most unanswerable argument which human ingenuity could
possibly devise. "What, Mr. Speaker!" said he, "and so we
are to beggar ourselves for fear of vexing posterity! Now, I
would ask the honourable gentleman, and this still more
honourable House, why we should put ourselves out of our way
to do anything for posterity — for what has posterity done for
us .?"* Sir Boyle, hearing the roar of laughter which of course
foUowed this sensible blunder, but not being conscious that he
had said anything out of the way, was rather puzzled, and
conceived that the House had misunderstood him. He therefore
* Si non h vero, ben trovato.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 117
begged leave to explain, as he apprehended that gentlemen had
enthely mistaken his words. He assured the House " that by
posterity he did not at aU mean our ancestors, but those who were
to come immediately after them." Upon hearing this explana
tion, it was impossible to do any serious business for half-an-
hour. Sh Boyle Roche was induced by government to fight as
hard as possible for the Union. So he did ; and I ready
beUeve fancied, by degrees, that he was right. On one occasion,
a general titter arose at his florid picture of the happiaess which
must proceed from this event. " Gentlemen," said Sir Boyle,
" may titther, and titther, and titther, and may think it a bad
measure ; but theh heads at present are hot, and wiU so remain
tdl they grow cool again, and so they can't decide right now ;
but when the day of judgment comes, then honourable gentle
men -wiU be satisfled at this most exceUent Union. Sir, there
is no Levitical degrees between nations, and on this occasion I
can see neither sin nor shame in marrying our own sister."
He was a determined enemy to the French Revolution, and
seldom rose in the house for several years -without volunteering
some abuse of it. " Mr. Speaker," said he, in a mood of this
kind, "if we once permitted the -viUanous French masons to
meddle -with the buttresses and walls of our ancient constitution,
they would never stop nor stay, sir, tdl they brought the foun
dation-stones tumbling do-wn about the ears of the nation !
There," continued Sh Boyle, placing his hand earnestly on his
heart, his powdered head shaking in unison with his loyal zeal,
whilst he described the probable consequences of an invasion of
Ireland by the French repubUcans ; " There, Mr. Speaker ! if
those GaUican viUains should invade us, sh, 'tis on ihat very
table, maybe, these honourable members inight see theh o-wn
destinies lying in heaps a-top of one another ! Here, perhaps,
sh, the murderous marshal-law-men (Marsedlois) would break in,
cut us to mince-meat, and throw our bleeding heads upon that
table, to stare us in the face !"
Sh Boyle, on another occasion, was arguing for the Habeas

118 barrington's PEESONAL SKETCHES
Corpus Suspension Bdl in Ireland : — " It would surely be better,
Mr. Speaker," said he, " to give up not only a part, but, if neces
sary, even the whole, of our constitution, to preserve the re-
mainder!" This baronet ha-ving been one of the Irish ParUamentary
curiosities before the Union, I have only exempUfied his mode of
blundering, as many ridiculous sayings have been attributed to
him. He blundered certainly more than any pubhc speaker in
Ireland ; but his buUs were rather logical perversions, and had
some strong point in most of them.
The English people consider a buU as nothing more than a
-vulgar nonsensical expression : but Irish blimders are frequently
humorous hyperboles or oxymorons, and present very often the
most energetic mode of expressing the speaker's meaning.
On the motion to expel Lord Edward Fitzgerald from the
House of Commons, for hasty disrespectful expressions regarding
the House aud the Lord Lieutenant, it was observable that the
motion was ¦violently supported by the younger men then in Par
Uament ; including the late Marquess of Ormonde, etc. The Mar
quess was, indeed, one of the strongest supporters of a measure,
the object of which was to disgrace a young nobleman, his o^wn
equal : and it was Uke-wise worthy of remark that the motion
was resisted by the steadiest and oldest members of the House.
Sir Boyle Roche laboured hard and successfuUy for Lord
Edward, who was eventuaUy requhed to make an apology : it
was not, however, considered sufficientiy ample or repentant.
Sh Boyle was at his ¦wits' end, and at length produced a natural
syUogism, which, by putting the House in good humour, did
more than a host of reasoners could have achieved. "Mr.
Speaker," said the baronet, " I think the noble young man has
no business to make any apology. He is a gentleman, and none
such should be asked to make an apology, because no gentleman
could mean to give offence."
Never was there a more sensible blunder than the foUo-wing.
We recommend it as a motto to gentlemen in the army. " The
best way," said Sh Boyle, "to avoid danger, is to meet it plump."

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 119

ENTRANCE INTO OFFICE.
In December 1793, the Secretary, Lord Buckinghamshhe, wrote
to say that he wished to see me at the Castle. I immediately
attended, when he said, " Barrington, I am about to depart from
Ireland ; and," continued he, after my sincere expressions of
regret, "as you have heretofore had nothing from us but con^vi-
vial intercourse, it is just you should now have fare somewhat
more substantial ; ¦with the approbation of the Lord Lieutenant,
therefore, I have managed to secure for you a very handsome
office — the ships' Entries of the port of Dubhn."
At the name and nature of this office I rather demurred ;
whereupon Lord Buckinghamshhe smded and said, " You have
no objection to a good sinecure, I suppose, the emoluments pay
able every Simday morning by the deputy : the place was lately
held by Mr. George Ponsonby, and is at this moment enjoyed by
Serjeant Coppinger ; but I have negotiated to give him, his son,
and his wKe, an annuity of £800 a-year to resign it to you."
This, so far, was agreeable : but stdl professional advance-
meat being the object next my heart, I neither felt nor looked
totaUy satisfied.
Lord B. then said, " You are a grumbling feUow ; but I antici
pated your grumbUng, and the Lord ChanceUor (Lord Clare) has
consented to your being at the same time appoiated one of the
king's counsel, thus at once gi'ving you a step over the heads of
aU your chcuit seniors, except Sir Frederick Flood, who is not,
I fancy, very formidable."
This arrangement altogether met my wishes. I hastened to
Lords Westmoreland and Clare, to thank them most cordiaUy ;
and the fifth year after becoming a barrister, I found myseK at
the head of my chcuit, and high up hi the official rank of my

120 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
profession. Practice generaUy foUows the fortunate : I was
immediately considered as on the high-road of preferment ; the
attorneys pursued me hke a flock of rooks ! and my business was
quadrupled. I purchased a fine house in Merrion Square, from Mr. Robert
Johnson, then counsel to the revenue, afterwards judge, who at
that period felt himseK going down hdl ; and here I launched
into an absolute press of business ; perhaps justly acquiriag
thereby the jealousy of many of my seniors. This jealousy,
however, gave rise to one of the most gratifying incidents of
my Ufe.
John, Earl of Ormonde, resided, Uke a true Irish nobleman,
in the utmost splendour and hospitahty, in his fine ancient castle
at Kilkenny. He scarcely ever went even to the Irish metropohs
— his entire fortune being expended in his o^wn city ; whereby
every shopkeeper and trader experienced the advantages of his
lordship's residence. His estabUshment was ample — his table
profuse — his friendship warm and unbounded. The very appear
ance of his castle, though only a portion of the old Duke's, was
stdl such as to remind the spectator of its former magnificence.
Proudly towering over the river Nore, from which it was sepa
rated only by the pubhc walk, a high and grand rampart on that
side conveyed the idea at once of a palace and a fortress ; whilst
towards the city an old princely portal, flanked by round towers,
opened into a spacious court, within which were preserved two
sides of the original edifice, and a thhd was, at the period I
aUude to, rebuUding, in a style, however, far too modem and
ordinary. The exterior mouldings of the castle exhibited the
remains of the gUding which had formerly been laid on with a
lavish hand.
The interior of this noble edffice, with the exception of one
saloon and the picture-gaUery, was not calculated to satisfy ex
pectation ; but both those were unique — the one -with respect to
its form, the other to its prospects. The grand saloon was not
shaped like any other, I beUeve, existing — oval in its figure, and
not large ; but the waU, twelve feet thick, admitted of recesses

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 121
on the sides, which had the appearance of smaU rooms, each
behig terminated by a large -window, and the sides covered -with
mirrors, which reflected the beautKul and varied prospects of
city, country, wood, river, and pubUc promenade. When I was
at the castle, in fact, everything appeared to me deUghtful.
Walter, the late Marquess of Ormonde, though my junior in
years, had been my intimate friend and companion ; as was also
his cousin, Bryan Cavanagh. Lady Ormonde, mother of Walter,
was the only chdd of Earl Wandesford, and, as lady of the castle,
was careful to keep up at least her due importance. It is not
impossible for women, or men either, to mistake pomposity for
dignity. True pride is accompanied by an amiable condescen
sion ; cold, unbending ceremony is the result of false pride, and
not of dignity. I thought, perhaps erroneously, that her ladyship
made this mistake.
The Earl John, my friend's father, was rather in the oppo
site extreme. He was weU-read and friendly, a hard-goer* as it
was caUed, and an incessant talker. His Lordship occasionaUy
adjourned to a kind of tavern in the city, of which a certain widow
Madden was the hostess, and where one Mr. Evans, surnamed
" HeU-cat," together with the best boozers and other gentlemen
of KUkenny, assembled to amuse his Lordship by their jests and
warm punch, and to emulate each other in the devouring of
oysters and lobsters — the best which could possibly be procured
Hither, in fact, the company from the castle were habituated
often to repair.
These boozing-matches sometimes proceeded rather too far ;
and one night Mr. Duffy, a sharp, smart, independent-minded
apothecary of Kilkenny, who had offended the Ormonde famdy
on some very sensitive point, being alluded to, a member of the
party, ¦with more zeal than prudence, proposed as a toast, " a
round of rascals!" taking care to designate Doctor Duffy as
belonghig to that honourable fraternity. On departing from the
tavern, far more fuU of liquor than wit, some wUd young man
in company suggested the demohtion of the doctor's windows.
* Bon--vivant.

122 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
No sooner said than done. The piper played, the stones flew, and
Duffy's shivered panes bore ample testimony to the strength of
the ¦widow's beverage. No personal injury, however, ensued, and
the affair appeared to have terminated.
A glazier was sent early next morning by command of my
Lord to repah the windows, but this the doctor refused to allow,
and in due form appUed for and obtained a criminal information
in the King's Bench for the outrage, against Lord Ormonde, his
son Walter, James the present Marquess, Lord Thurles, and
others. The information was, in due legal form, sent down to be
tried at the Spring Assizes very soon after I had been appointed
king's counsel.
None felt more jealousy at my promotion than Mr. WiUiam
Fletcher, since Judge of the Common Pleas, many years my
senior at the bar and on chcuit. Lord Ormonde directed briefs
to be sent to me and to Fletcher, ¦with fees of fifteen guineas
each. 1 never loved money much in my life, and therefore
thought it qidte enough ; or rather, I did not think about it.
The defendant's case feU of course to me as leading counseL
At this chcumstance Fletcher felt sore and ran sulky ; and the
sulkier he got the more zealous became I. We had but a bad
case of it. The cross-examination of the hritated apothecary, who
grew after awhde quite ferocious, feU to my lot. I performed
my duty, and it then devolved on Fletcher to speak to the
e^vidence. This, however, he declined I pressed him, but he
peremptordy refused. I exclaimed, " Nay, Fletcher, you took a
fee; why not speak?" ''Yes," answered the angry barrister,
"just enough to make me hold my tongue !" " Do speak," per
sisted I. " I won't," repUed he. " Then I must do it for you,"
was my rejoinder. My zeal was enkindled, my mind was on fire,
and I felt myself in earnest and interested. I persevered tiU I
saw the jury smile, for which purpose they only wanted a good
pretence. I held on my course tiU I saw them pleased ; and the
result was an acquittal of Lord Ormonde, and a conviction of aU
the others.
On the ensuing Summer Assizes Lord Ormonde in^vited the

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 123
Judges, Barristers, several of the Grand Jury, and the principal
gentlemen of the county, to a magnificent dinner at the Castle.
It was a long table, and everything in the grandest style. A
judge sat on each side of Lady Ormonde, at the head, and Fletcher
and myseK were thefr next neighbours. After the cloth had been
removed, and Lady Ormonde was retired, his Lordship stood up,
and in a loud voice said, — " I have waited with impatience for
this public opportunity of expressing to Mr. Barrington the high
sense I entertain of his important and disinterested services to
me at the last assizes : I now beg his acceptance of a smaU
testimonial of my gratitude and friendship ;" and he immediately
sUd along the table a magnfficent gold snuff-box, with his arms,
&c., and the foUowing inscription : —
A Token of Friendship and Gratitude from the Earl of Oi-monde and Ossory to
Jonah Barrington, Esq., one of His Majesty's Counsel-at-law. August, 1794."
I was utterly astonished by this distinguished and most
unexpected favour, conferred in so pubhc and honourable a
maimer ; and involuntarily, without a moment's thought, but
certainly -with the appearance of Ul-nature, I triumphantly
handed round the box for the inspection of my brother barris
ters. Fletcher, confused, as might be supposed, slightly shoved
it back to me. His conduct on the trial having been kno^wn, a
sensation became ¦visible amongst the company, which I would
almost have given up the box to have avoided exciting. His
countenance, however, though not usuaUy subject to be much
impressed by kind feeUngs, clearly acquitted me of any inten
tional insult. In truth, I ready felt as much as he did when I
perceived my error, and wished to pocket the prize without its
creating further notice. But this was impossible ; I was obUged
to return thanks, which ceremony I went through very badly.
Next morning I found a bdlet from the Earl, enveloping a
bank-note for £100, with these words : —
" Dear Sir — My attoi'uey did not do you justice ; you wdl
permit me to be my own attorney on this occasion. — Your friend
and bumble servant, Ormonde and Ossoey."

124 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
From that time to the day of his Lordship's death I experi
enced from him, on every occasion ¦within his reach, the utmost
extent of kindness, ci^viUty, and friendship. His successor, with
whom I had been so long and so very intimately acquainted, was
whirled at an early age into the vortex of fashionable Ufe and
profligacy. Having lost his best guide and truest friend, his
cousin Bryan Cavanagh, many of his naturaUy flue quaUties were
either blunted by dissipation or absorbed in the Ucentious in
fluence of a fashionable connection.
I have mentioned Walter, Marquess of Ormonde, the more
particularly because, extraordinary as it may appear, it certainly
was to a fatal connection of his that I owe several of the most
painful and injurious events of my IKe.
His Lordship married his own god-daughter, but too late to
give a chance for reformation ; and never have I remarked,
through the course of a long observing Ufe, any progress more
complete, from the natural le-vities of youth to the confirmed
habits of dissipation ; from the first order of early talent to the
humblest state of premature imbeciUty, than that of the late
Marquess of Ormonde, who had, at one period of our intimacy, as
engaging a person, as many manly qualities, and to the fuU as
much intellectual promise, as any young man of his country.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 125

DR. ACHMET BORUMBORAD.
Until England dragged the sister kingdom with herseK into the
ruinous expenses of the American war, Ireland owed no pubhc
debt. There were no taxes, save local ones : the Parliament,
being composed of resident gentlemen, interested in the prosperity
and weKare of their country, was profuse in promoting aU useful
schemes ; and no projector, who could show any reasonable
grounds for seeking assistance, had difficulty in finding a patron.
On these points, indeed, the gentlemen who possessed infiuence,
were often unguarded, and sometimes extravagant.
Amongst other projectors, whose ingenuity was excited by
this hberal conduct, was one of a very singular description — a
Turk who had come over, or (as the on-dit went) had fied from
Constantinople. He proposed to establish, what was greatly
wanted at that time in the Irish metropoUs, " Hot and Cold Sea-
water Baths ;" and by way of advancing his pretensions to pubhc
encouragement, offered to open free baths for the poor, on an
extensive plan — giving them, as a doctor, attendance and advice
gratis, every day in the year. He spoke English very intelligibly ;
his person was extremely remarkable ; and the more so, as he
was the first Turk who had ever walked the streets of Dublin in
his native costume. He was in height considerably above six
feet, rather pompous in his gait, and apparently powerful ; an
immense black beard covering his chin and upper Up. There
was, at the same time, something cheerful and cordial in the
man's address ; and, altogether, he cut a very imposing figure.
Everybody Uked Doctor Achmet Borumborad : his Turkish dress,
being extremely handsome without any approach to the tawdry,
and cro^wned ¦with an immense turban, drew the eyes of every

126 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
passer by ; and I must say that I have never myseK seen a more
stately-looking Turk since that period.
The eccentricity of the Doctor's appearance was, indeed, as
wUl readily be imagined, the occasion of much idle observation
and conjecture. At first, whenever he went abroad, a crowd of
people, chiefly boys, was sure to attend him — but at a respectful
distance ; and if he turned to look behind him, the gaping boobies
fled, as if they conceived even his looks to be mortal These
fears, however, gradually wore away, and were entirely shaken
off, on the fact being made pubUc, that he meant to attend the
poor, and, in the usual sphit of exaggeration, cure all disorders
whatever !
My fair readers wiU perhaps smUe when I assure them that
the persons who seemed to have the least apprehension of Doc
tor Borumborad, or rather to think him "a very nice Turk!"
were the ladies of the metropolis. Many a smart, snug httle
husband, who had been heretofore considered " quite the thing/'
— despotic in his O'wn house, and peremptory commandant of
his own famdy, was now regarded as a ¦wretched, contemptible,
close-shaven pigmy, in comparison with the immensity of the
Doctor's figure and whiskers ; and, what is more extraordinary,
his good humour and engaging manners gained him many friends
even among the husbands themselves ! he thus becoming, in a
shorter period than could be imagined, a particular favourite
with the entire city, male and female.
Doctor Achmet Borumborad, ha^ving obtained footing thus
far, next succeeded surprisingly in making his way amongst the
members of ParUament. He was fuU of conversation, yet knew
his proper distance ; pregnant with anecdote, but discreet in its
expenditure ; and he had the peculiar talent of being humble
without the appearance of humility. A submissive Turk would
have been out of character, and a haughty one excluded from
society : the Doctor was aware of this, and regulated his de
meanour with remarkable skdl upon every occasion, whereon, as
a lion, he was invited to the tables of the great. By this Une of
conduct, he managed to warm those who patronised him into

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 127
becoming ¦violent partisans ; and accordingly Uttle or no diffi
culty was experienced in getting a grant from Parhament for a
sufficient fund to commence his great metropoUtan undertaking.
Baths were now planned after Turkish models. The money
voted was most faithfuUy appropriated ; and a more ingenious
or useful estabUshment could not be formed in any metropoUs.
But the cash, it was soon discovered, ran too short to enable the
Doctor to complete his scheme ; and, on the ensuing session, a
further vote became necessary, which was by no means opposed,
as the institution was good, fairly executed, and charitably ap
pUed. The worthy Doctor kept his ground : session after session
he petitioned for fresh assistance, and never met with refusal :
his profits were good, and he Uved weU ; whilst the baths proved
of the utmost benefit, and the poor received attention and service
from his establishment ¦without cost. An immense cold bath
was constructed, to communicate "vsdth the river : it was large
and deep, and entirely renewed every tide. The neatest lodging
rooms, for those patients who chose to remain during a course
of bathing, were added to the estabUshment, and always occupied.
In short, the whole affah became so popular, and Dr. Achmet
acquhed so many friends, that the annual grants of ParUament
were considered nearly as matters of course.
But alas ! fortune is treacherous, and prosperity unstable.
Whdst the ingenious Borumborad was thus rapidly flourishing,
an unlucky though most ludicrous incident threw the poor feUow
completely aback; and, without any fault on his part, nearly
ruined both himself and his institution.
Preparatory to every session, it was the Doctor's invariable
custom to give a grand dinner, at the baths, to a large number
of his patrons, members of ParUament, who were in the habit of
proposing and supporting his grants. He always on these occa
sions procured some professional singers, as weU as the finest
¦wines in Ireland ; endeavouring to render the parties as joyous
and con-vi-vial as possible. Some nobleman, or commoner of note,
always acted for him as chairman, the Doctor himseK being quite
unassuming.

128 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
At the last commencement of a session, whereupon he anti
cipated this patronage, it was intended to increase his grant, in
order to meet the expenses of certain new works, etc., which he
had executed on the strength of the ensuing supply ; and the
Doctor had invited nearly thirty of the leading members to a
grand dinner in his spacious saloon. The singers were of the
first order ; the claret and champagne exceUent ; and never was
the Turk's hospitality shown off to better advantage, or the ap
petites of his guests administered to with greater success. The
effects of the wine, as usual on aU such meetings in Ireland, be
gan to grow obvious. The elder and more discreet members
were for adjourning ; whUst the juveniles declared they would
stay for another dozen! and Doctor Borumborad accordingly
went down himseK to his ceUar, to select and send up a choice
dozen by way of bonns bouche for finishing the refractory members
of Parliament. In his absence, Sh John S. Hamdton, though a very dry
member, took it into his head that he had taken enough, and
rose to go away, as is customary in these days of freedom when
people are so chcumstanced ; but at that period men were not
always their own masters on such occasions, and a general cry
arose of — " Stop, Sh John ! — stop him ! — the bonne bouche ! —
the bonne bouche !" The carousers were on the alert instantly :
Sir John opened the door and rushed out ; the antechamber was
not lighted ; some one or two-and-twenty staunch members stuck
to his skhts ; when splash at once comes Sir John, not into the
street, but into the great cold bath, the door of which he had re
treated by, in mistake ! The other parUament-men were too
close upon the baronet to stop short : in they went by fours and
fives ; and one or two, who, on hearing the splashing of the water,
cunningly threw themselves down on the brink to avoid popping
in, operated directly as stumbling-blocks to those behind, who
thus obtained their fidl share of a bonne bouche none of the par
ties had bargained for.
When Doctor Borumborad re-entered, ushering a couple of
servants laden with a dozen of his best wine, and missed *U his

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 129
company, he thought some devd had carried them off ; but per
ceiving the door of his noble, deep, cold salt-water bath open, he
-with dismay rushed thither, and espied eighteen or nineteen
Irish parhament-men either floathig Uke so many corks upon the
surface, or scrambling to get out Uke mice who had faUen into
a bason !
It was unlucky, also, that, as the Doctor was a Turk, he had
no Christian wardrobe to substitute for the weU-soaked garments
of the Honourable Members. Such dresses, however, as he had,
were speedUy put into requisition ; the bathing attendants fur
nished theh quota of dry apparel ; and aU was speeddy distri
buted amongst the s-wimmers, some of whom exhibited in Turkish
costume, others in bathing shKts ; and when the clothes faded,
blankets were pinned around the rest. Large fires were made
in every room ; brandy and muUed wine hberaUy resorted to ;
and as fast as sedan-chahs could be procured, the Irish Com
moners were sent home, cursing all Turks and infidels, and de
nouncing a crusade against anything coming from the same
quarter of the globe as Constantinople.
Poor Doctor Achmet Borumborad was distracted and quite
inconsolable ! Next day he duly visited every suffering member,
and though well received, was acute enough to see that the
ridicule -with which they had covered themselves was Ukely
to work out eventuaUy his ruin. His anticipations were weU
founded : though the members sought to hush up the ridiculous
parts of the story, they became, from that very attempt, stdl
more celebrated. In fact, it was too good a joke to escape the
embeUishments of Irish humour ; and the statement universaUy
chculated was — that " Doctor Borumborad had nearly drowned
nineteen members of parhament, because they would not promise
to vote for bim ! "
The poor Doctor was now assaded in every way. Among
other things, it was asserted that he was the Turk who had
strangled the Christians in the Seven Towers at Constantiaople !
Though everybody laughed at their own inventions, they be
heved tihose of other people ; and the conclusion was, that no
VOL. I. K

130 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
more grants could be proposed, since not a single member was
stout enough to mention the name of Borumborad! the laugh,
hideed, would have overwhelmed the best speech ever dehvered
in the Irish parliament.
Stdl, the new works must be paid for, although no conve
nient vote came to make the necessary pro-vision : the poor
Doctor was therefore cramped a Uttle ; but notwithstanding his
embarrassment, he kept his ground weU, and lost no private
friends except such as the wearing-off of novelty estianged. He
continued to get on ; and at length a new circumstance inter
vened to restore his happiness, in a way as Uttle to be antici
pated by the reader as was his previous discomfiture.
Love had actually seized upon the Turk above two years
before the accident we have been recording. A respectable sur
geon of Dublin, of the name of Hartigan, had what might be
termed a very " neat " sister ; and this lady had made a lasting
impression on the heart of Borumborad, who had no reason to
complain of his suit being treated -with disdain, or even iadiffer-
ence. On the contrary. Miss H. liked the Doctor vastly ! and
praised the Turks in general, both for theh dashing spirit and
theh beautiful whiskers. It was not, however, consistent either
with her o-wn or her brother's Christianity, to submit to the
Doctor's tremendous beard, or think of matrimony, tdl "he had
shaved the chin at least, and got a parson to turn him into a
Christian, or something of that kind." Upon those terins only
would she surrender her charms and her money — for some she
had — to Doctor Achmet Borumborad, however amiable.
The Doctor's courtship with the members of parliament hav
ing now terminated, so far at anyrate as further grants were con
cerned, and a grant of a much more tender nature being now
within his reach, he began seriously to consider if he should not
at once capitulate to Miss H., and exchange his beard and his
Alcoran for a razor and the New Testament. After weighing
matters deUberately, love prevaded, and he intimated by letter,
in the proper vehemence of Asiatic passion, his determination to
turn Christian, discard his beard, and, throwing himself at the

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 131
feet of his beloved, vow eternal fidehty to her in the holy bands
of matrimony. He concluded by requesting an interview in the
presence of the young lady's confidant, a Miss Owen, who resided
next door. His request was granted, and he repeated his pro
posal, which was duly accepted. Miss Hartigan stipulating that
he should never see her again untd the double promise in his
letter was fully redeemed ; upon which he might mention his
own day for the ceremony. The Doctor, having engaged to com
ply, took leave.
On the evening of the same day a gentleman was announced
to the bride-elect with a message from Doctor Achmet Borum
borad. Her confidential neighbour was immediately summoned,
the gentleman waiting meantime in a coach at the door. At
length Miss Hartigan and her friend being ready to receive him,
ia walked a Christian gaUant, in a suit of fuU-dress black, and a
very taU fine-looking Christian he was. Miss H. was surprised ;
she did not recognise her lover, particularly as she thought it
impossible he could have been made a Christian before the ensu-
iag Sunday ! He immediately, however, fed on his knees, seized
and kissed her lUy hand, and, on her beghming to expostulate,
cried out at once, — " Don't be angry, my dear creature. To teU
the honest truth, I am as good a Christian as the archbishop !
I'm your own countryman, sure enough — Mr. Patrick Joyce
from Kilkenny county. The devd a Turk any more than yom--
seK, my sweet angel!" The ladies were astonished; but as
tonishment did not prevent Miss Hartigan from keepiag her
word, and Mr. and Mrs. Joyce became a very loving and happy
couple. The doctor's great skdl, however, was supposed to lie in his
beard and faith, consequently, on this denouement, the baths
declined. But the honest feUow had never done any discredit
able act ; none indeed was ever laid to his charge. He fuUy
performed every engagement with the Parliament whUst he
retained the power to do so.
His beauty and portly appearance were considerably dimi
nished by his change of garb. The long beard and picturesque

132 barrington's personal sketches
dress had been half the battle ; and he was, after his transfor
mation, but a plain, rather coarse, but stdl brave-looking feUow.
This little story shows the facUity with which pubUc money
was formerly voted, and at the same time the comparatively for
tunate financial state of Ireland at that period, when the public
purse could afford a multipUcity of such suppUes without any
tax or imposition whatsoever being laid upon the people to pro
vide for them !* How very different were the measures of that
Parliament even ten years afterwards !
¦* How money could be voted without raising taxes, is a riddle. I suppose
the meaning to be that the subsidies given to the Turkish Baths were taken from
an ordinary surplus. This early effort at introducing those baths is curious, and
the disinterested testimony of Barrington in favour of them not a Uttle remark
able. Dr. Barter of Cork, then, has not the merit of originaUty in introducing
those Eastern appliances. It is likely, however, that he had never heard of his
predecessor Borum Joyce, when he promulgated his enterprise in 1846. Without
examining the hydropathic system, or any theory of ablutions ; since a panacea is
a chimera of lunacy, and the best remedies require prudent administration ; it is
but just to own that Anne's Hill, near the Groves of Blarney, is a delightful
Sanatoriv/m.

OF HIS OWN times. 133

ALDERMEN OF SKINNERS' ALLEY.
Orange societies, as they are termed, were first formed by the
Protestants to oppose and counteract the turbulent demonstra
tions of the Catholics, who formed the population of the south
of Ireland. But at their commencement the Orangemen cer
tainly adopted a principle of interference which was not confined
to rehgious points alone, but went to put down all popular
insurrections which inight arise on any point. The term Pro
testant ascendency was coined by Mr. John Giffard, of whom
more hereafter, and became a phrase very fatal to the peace of
Ireland. Many associations indeed were, from time to time,
originated, some for reform, others to oppose it ; some for tolera
tion, others for intolerance. There were good men and loyal
subjects among the members of each.
I foUowed up the principles my famdy had invariably pur
sued from their first settlement in Ireland ; namely, an attach
ment di-vided between the crown and the people. In the year
1795, I saw that the people were Ukely to grow too strong for
the crown ; and therefore became at once — not indeed an ultra,
but one in whom loyalty absorbed almost every other consider
ation. I wUlingly united in every effort to check the rising
spirit of popular disaffection ; the dreadful results of which were
manifested in the atrocities acting throughout France, and in the
tottering state of the crowns of Europe.
I had been previously initiated by my friend. Doctor Dui
genan,* judge of the Prerogative Court, into a very curious but
* Patrick Duigenan was son of a parish-clerk of St. Werburgh's Church,
Dubhn. He took a scholar.ship in Trinity College, of which he became a fellow.
His quarrelsome disposition embroiled him with the provost, Dr. Hutchinson.
In consequence of this quarrel he left the university, retaining, however, the pro
fessorship of law. Following up this profession, he obtained a silk gown, and the

134 barrington's personal sketches
most loyal society, whereof he was grand-master at the time of ¦
my election ; and as this club differed essentiaUy from any other
in the emphe, it may be amusing to describe it ; a labour which
perhaps nobody has hitherto undertaken.
This curious assemblage was caUed " The Aldermen of Skin
ners' Alley." It was the first Orange association ever formed ;
and having, at the period I allude to, existed a fuU century in
pristine vigour, it had acquhed considerable local influence and
importance. Its origin was as foUows : — After WUliam the Third
had mounted the EngUsh throne, and King James had assumed
the reigns of govemment in Ireland, the latter monarch annuUed
the then existing charter of the Dublin Corporation, dismissed
aU the aldermen who had espoused the revolutionary cause, and
replaced them by others attached to himseK. In doing this he
was certainly justffiable. The deposed aldermen, however, had
secreted some httle articles of their paraphernaha, and privately
assembled in an alehouse in Skhmers' AUey, a very obscure part
of the capital. Here they continued to hold Anti-Jacobite
meetings ; elected their o-wn lord mayor and officers ; and got a
marble bust of King WiUiam, which they regarded as a sort of
deity ! These meetings were carried on till the battle of the
appointments of Judge of the Prerogative Court and King's Advocate in the Court
of Admiralty. He and Barrington used consequently to plead in each other's
court, a circumstance which, combined with many good quaUties on both sides,
maintained a constant and friendly intercourse between them He had a strong,
active, combative mind, well furnished but roughly cultivated. His brain was
ever on fire, and seized on every species of fuel ; but that which supported its
most violent flames was Popery, or perhaps his affected hate of it. If he did
hate it, it was for the sake of profit, excitement, dogmatism, and notoriety, for
he had a kindly heart ; and there is reason to believe that he largely indulged in
private benevolence, since his emoluments were large, his habits frugal, and his
accumulations trifling. His pamphlets and speeches were remarkable for the
weight of the materials and the fury of the management ; abounding in resources
and ending in vapour. I am sorry to have to say of this able, amusing, and
social firebrand, that he served under the government as a bribery-broker.
Whatever may be thought of Burke, especially from his JSssay mi the Sublime
a7id Beautiful, which he never surpassed, there is nothing to be foimd in him of
greater vivacity and finish than Barrington's character of Duigenan. Tliis the
reader will find in the fifteenth chapter of The Rise and Fall, etc.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 135
Boyne put WiUiam in possession of Dublin, when King James's
aldermen were immediately cashiered, and tlie Aldermen of Slcin^
ners' Alley reinvested -with theh mace and aldermanic glories.
To honour the memory of their restorer, therefore, a perma
nent association was formed, and invested -with all the memorials
of theh former disgrace and latter reinstatement. This organi
sation, constituted near a century before, remained, I fancy,
quite unaltered at the time I became a member. To make the
general influence of this association the greater, the number of
members was unlimited, and the mode of admission solely by the
proposal and seconding of tried aldermen. For the same reason,
no class, however humble, was excluded — equaUty reigning in
its most perfect state at the assembUes. Generals and wig-
makers, king's counsel and hackney clerks, etc., aU mingled with
out distinction as brother-aldermen : a lord mayor was annually
appointed ; and regularity and decorum always prevaded — ^until,
' at least, towards the conclusion of the meetings, when the alder
men became more than usuaUy noisy and exhilarated ; King
WilUam's bust being placed in the centre of the supper-table, to
overlook their extreme loyalty. The times of meeting were
monthly ; and every member paid sixpence per month, which
sum, allowing for the absentees, afforded plenty of eatables,
porter and punch, for the supping aldermen.
Theh charter-dish was slieeps' trotters, in aUusion to King
James's running away from DubUn : — rum-punch in blue jugs,
whisky-punch in white ones, and porter in its pewter, were
scattered plentifuUy over the table ; and aU regular formaUties
ha-ving been gone through, and the eating part of the ceremony
ended, the real business began by a general chorus of " God save
the King!" Whereupon the grand engine, which, as a loyal
and facetious shoemaker observed, would bind every sole of them
together, and commemorate them all tdl the end of time, was
set at work by order of the lord mayor. This engine was the
charter-toast, always given with nine times nine ! and duly suc
ceeded by vocKerous acclamations.
The 1st of July, the anniversary of the battle of the Boyne,

136 barrington's personal sketches
was the favourite night of assembly : then every man unbuttoned
the knees of his breeches, and drank the toast on his bare joints
— it being pronounced by his lordship in the foUo-wing words,
composed expressly for the purpose in the year 1689 ; after
wards adopted by the Orange societies generally; and stdl, I
beUeve, considered as the charter-toast of them all.
This most ancient and unparaUeled sentiment runs thus : —
OEANGE TOAST.
" The glorious, pious, and immortal memory of the great and
good King WilUam : not forgetting OUver CromweU, who as
sisted in redeeming us from popery, slavery, arbitrary power,
brass money, and wooden shoes. May we never want a Wd-
hamite to kick a Jacobite ! — or a rope for the Bishop of Cork !
And he that won't drink this, whether he be priest, bishop,
deacon, beUows-blower, or grave-digger ; may a north wind blow
him to the south, and a west wind blow him to the east ! May
Cerberus make a meal of him, and Pluto a snuff-box of his skuU.
Amen !"*
The extraordinary zeal wherewith this toast was diunk could
only be equaUed by the enthusiasm with which the blue and
white jugs and pewter pots were resorted to, to ascertain the
quality of the potation within. They then rebuttoned the knees
of their breeches (trousers had not come into fashion), and sat
down to work again in downright earnest. Mr. PoweU, a joUy
apothecary, led, in my time, the vocal band ; and after a dozen
* The more offensive parts of this sentiment have been suppressed. We might
have stopped at the wooden shoes ; for the heel-tapping is by no means artistic ;
but it is our duty to preserve all we can.
This oath, much of which may be justly viewed as superadded garnish aud
bacchanal levity, does not seem to have any great influence on neighbom-ly rela
tions, except, perhaps, in times of public excitement, such as the recurrence of
political anniversaries. Even in bad times, the rancour of party is not strong
enough to poison human charity. One of the proclaimed men of 1848 found refuge
and safety in the house of the grand -master of an Orange lodge. This was the
learned and promising Thomas D. O'Reilly, Esq. , who made his escape -to America,
and there died at an early age.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 137
speeches, accompanied by numerous replenishments of the jugs,
etc., everybody who had anything to do in the morning generaUy
¦withdrew, leaving the rest of the loyaUsts to finish the last drop.
The idea of "Orange Societies" arose, in my opinion, from
this association.* I beUeve it exists stdl ; but has, I understand,
degenerated into a sort of half-mounted club ; not exclusive
enough for gentlemen, and too fine for wig-makers : it has sunk
into a paltry and unimportant corporate utensd.
I recoUect an amusing chcumstance which many years back
occurred in this lodge. Untd poUtics grew too hot, Napper Tandy
and several other of the patriots were aldermen : but finding that
ultra-loyalty was making way too fast for theh notions, they
sought some fah opportunity of seceding from the club, stealing
the mace, and regenerating the whole board and estabhshment
of Skinners' AUey. The opportunity was not long wanting.
An apothecary, of the name of M'Mahon, had become an
alderman solely to avoid being considered a friend of the Pope :
this, in point of reaUty, he was ; but since, at that period, his
creed was not the popular one, he conceived that he might
thrive better in his business by appearing a stanch Protestant.
But M'Mahon was, Uke many an honest feUow, vastly more
candid when he got " the sup in " than he had ever intended to
be. Thus, one unfortunate night, " Dr. M'Mahon, the apothe
cary," ha-ving made too free with the blue jug, forgot his com
pany, and began to speak rather unkindly of King WiUiam.
His worthy associates took fire at this sacrilege offered to theh
patoon saint ; and one word brought on another. The Doctor
grew outoageous ; and, in his paroxysm, actuaUy damned King
WiUiam ! In the enthusiasm of his popery, and most thought
lessly for himself and for the unhappy king's bust then stariag
before him, he struck it -with his huge fist plump in the face !
The bust immediately showed evident symptoms of maltreat
ment ; its white marble appearing to be actuaUy stahied with
* Their origin has been otherwise given ; but the matter is uninteresting. It
is said they were at first called "Wreckers;" but, perhaps, only by their oppo
nents.

138 barrington's personal sketches
blood ! One of the aldermen roared out— "That vUlain, M'Mahon,
has broken the king's nose!" — "The king's nose?" ran throughout
the room : the cry of " Throw him out of the window!" was un
animously adopted ; the window was opened ; and the Doctor,
after exerting all his muscular powers, forced out remorselessly.
Again, the " Glorious Memory " was drunk, the king's nose
washed clean from the blood formerly belonging to the Doctor's
knuckles, and aU restored to peace and tranqudhty. Fortunately
for M'Mahon, a lamp and lamp-iron stood immediately under the
window. His route downwards was impeded by a crash against
the lamp ; the glass and other materials yielded to the precious
weight, and probably prevented the pavement from ha-ving the
honour of braining him. He held a moment by the hon, and
then dropped quite gently into the arms of a couple of guardians
of the night, who, attracted by the uproar in the room above, and
seeing the Doctor getting out feet foremost, conceived that it was
only a drunken frolic, and so placed themselves underneath " to
keep the gentleman out of the gutter."
The Doctor scarcely waited to thank his preservers, set out
pretty weU sobered to his home, and the next day, summoning
aU the humane and patriotic aldermen, to whom he told his nwn
story, they determined to secede and set up a new corps at the
King's Arms in Fownes's Street. The old aldermen defended
theh conduct as loyal subjects ; the others stigmatised it as the
act of a set of manslaughterers : these old and young guards of
the British Constitution from that day set about advertising each
other, and making proselytes on either side ; and the Orange and
United Irishmen parties gained as many recruiting-serjeants by
the fracas, as there were permauents or seceders amongst those
iUustrious aldermen.
As nothing is so much calculated to gratify the aldermen of
Skinners' Alley as anecdotes respecting his Holiness the Pope,
or their eminences the cardinals, I am happy in being enabled
to afford them one, of which I was an eye-witness.
A few years since, the present Sir John Bourke of Glinsk, Bart.,
traveUed with his new-married lady and establisliment to Rome —

OF HIS OWN times. 139
not solely for his pleasure, but, as an Irish Catholic, to pay his re
spects to the Pope, kiss his Holiness' toe, and purchase antiquities.
The late Sir Francis Gould, then at Paris, requested Sh John
(before me) that, as he fancied he felt himself in a decUning state
of health, and unable to travel so far as Eome, he (Sir John) would
take the proper steps, through Cardinal Gonsalvi, to procure him
from his Holiness a bull of plenary absolution, and, if possible,
an indulgence also ; addiag that Sir John might hint to the
Cardiaal that he intended to bequeath a good deal of his property
amongst the clergy.
Sh John undertook the matter, — proceeded to Rome, — saw
the Cardinal, and, as far as the absolution went, succeeded. He
was himseK at the same time created " Marchese de Bourke of
the Holy Roman Emphe ;" and a bud was duly made out for Sh
Francis Gould, at very considerable expense. Sir John received
also a couple of blessed candles, six feet long, to bum whdst the
bud was being read. Its express terms and conditions, however,
were : — " Provided the penitent. Sir Francis Gould, should not
again voluntardy commit the same sins now forgiven;" a list
which mcluded nearly aU the sias the Cardinal could think of !
Sh John ha^ving brought home the bull, magnificently enclosed,
and sewed up in a silk bag sealed officially by the Cardinal, in
formed Sh Francis, as we were aU dining together at Bourke's
Hotel, that he had that day unpacked his luggage, had the Pope's
bud perfectly safe, and would hand it to htm instantly.
Sir Francis asked him its exact purport. Sir John informed
him so far as his Latin went. Sir Francis calmly said, " My dear
Bourke, don't give me the bud yet awhile: its operation, I find, is
only retrospective, and does not affect sins committed after its de-
hvery. Send it to me in about ten days or a fortnight — not sooner:
it -vidd answer then pretty wed, as I am about taking away my
landlady's daughter, next week, and I should have that to answer
for K you gave me the buU before I had her out of Paris."
He kept his word, took off the girl, and in a very short time
was afforded, by death, an opportunity of trying the efficacy of
the indulgence.

140 barrington's personal SKETCHES

PROCESSION OF THE TRADES.
Nothing can better show the high opinion entertained by the
Irish of their owu importance, and particularly by that cele
brated body caUed the corporation of DubUn, than the foUo-wing
incident. Mr. Wdlis, a leather-breechesmaker in Dame Street,
and a famous orator at the corporation meetings, holding forth
one day about the parochial watch (a subject which he con
sidered as of the utmost general importance), discoursed as
foUows: — "This, my friends, is a subject neither trifling nor
obscure : the character of our corporation is at stake on your
decision! — recoUect," continued he, "recoUect, brother freemen,
that the eyes of all Europe are upon us !"*
One of the customs of Dublin which prevaUed in my early
days made such a strong impression upon my mind that it
never could be obhterated. The most magnificent and showy
procession, I really beUeve, except those of Rome, then took
place in the Irish metropoUs every thhd year, and attracted a
number of English quite surprising, if we take into account the
great difficulty existing at that time with regard to traveUing
from London to DubUn.
The corporation of the latter city were by the terms of theh
charter bound, once in three years, to perambulate the limits of
the lord mayor's jurisdiction, to make stands or stations at
various points, and to skirt the Earl of IMeath's hberties — a
' ¦* I was present at this little dialogue between two worthy baronets : — Alder
man Harty — ^"Long as I know the corporation, how comes it that there were
never five of us together who could speak five words of good English inten-
tionaUy?" Alderman Shaw — "If there were, we would not be a corporation,
but — a college ! I think, Harty, you may have safely added — or unintentionally;
'twould bring the eyes of Europe on us ! " Councillor M'Cleary — " If thetn lazy
asses would read as much as me, they wouldn't have the reporters a laughing.''

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 141
part of the city at that era in great prosperity, but forming a
local jurisdiction of its own (in the nature of a manor), totaUy
distinct from that of Dublin.
This procession being in fact partly intended to mark and to
designate the extreme boundaries of his lordship's jurisdiction,
at those points where they touch the Earl of Meath's Uberty,
the lord mayor thrust his sword through the wall of a certain
house ; and then concluded the ceremony by approaching the
sea at low-water, and hurling a javehn as far upon the sands
as his strength admitted, which was understood to form the
boundary between him and Neptune.
The trade of Dublin is comprised of twenty-five corporations,
or gudds,* each independent of the other, and represented, as in
London by a common conned. Every one of these comprised
its masters, journeymen, and apprentices ; and each gudd had a
patron saint, or protector, whose image or emblem was on aU
great occasions dressed up in appropriate habiliments.
For this procession every member of the twenty-five corpora
tions prepared as for a jubdee. SmaU funds only were coUected,
and each indi-vidual gladly bore his extra charges ; the masters
and journeymen being desirous of outvying one another, and
conceiving that the gayer they appeared on that great day, the
more consideration would they be entitled to throughout the
ensuing three years ! Of course, therefore, such as could afford
it spared no expense : they borrowed the finest horses and
trappings which could be procured ; the masters rode, the
journeymen walked, and were succeeded by the apprentices.
Every corporation had an immense carriage, with a great
platform and high canopy; the whole radiant with gilding,
ribbons, and draperies, and dra-wn by six or eight horses equaUy
¦* By the reformed Municipal Act, those guUds were aboUshed, and the city
was divided into fifteen wards returning by their respective burgesses, who also
exercise parUamentary suffrage, fifteen aldermen and forty-five town-councillors to
represent them, and constitute the ci-vic administration. To inaugurate the new
lord-mayor there is an annual procession through some of the principal streets ;
but the riding the franchises, as the old triennial pomp was called, is not at all
carried out as described in the text.

142 barrington's personal sketches
decked and caparisoned. On these platforms, which were fitted
up as workshops, were the implements of the respective trades,
and expert hands were actuaUy at work during the enthe per
ambulation, which generaUy lasted eight or nine hours. The
procession indeed took two hours to pass. The narrow-weavers
wove ribbons which they threw to the spectators ; the others
tossed into the ah smaU patterns of the fabric they worked
upon ; the printers were employed in striking off innumerable
handbiUs, with songs and odes to the lord mayor.
But the smiths' part of the spectacle was the most gaudy :
they had theh forge in full work, and were attended by a very
high phaeton adorned in every way they could think of — the
horses covered with flowers and coloured stoeamers. In this
phaeton sat the most beautKul ghl they could possibly procure,
in the character of wife to theh patron, Vulcan. It is unneces
sary to describe her dress ; suffice it to say, it approached that
of a Venus as nearly as decency would permit : a blue scarf,
covered with sdver doves, was used at her discretion, and four
or five httle Cupids, attired hke pages, aiming -with bows and
arrows at the ladies in the windows, played at her feet. On one
side rode, on the largest horse which could be pro-vided, a huge
feUow, representing Vulcan, dressed cap-a-pie in coal-black
armour, and flourishing an immense smith's sledge-hammer!
On the other side pranced his rival. Mars, on a tawdry-capari
soned charger, in shining armour, -with an immensity of feathers
and horse-hah, and brandishing a two-edged gUttering sword sis
or eight feet long. Venus meantime seemed to pay much more
attention to her gaUant than to her husband. Behind the phaeton
rode Argus, -with an immense peacock's tad ; whilst numerous
other gods and goddesses, saints, de-vds, satyrs, etc., were distri
buted in the procession.
The skinners and tanners seemed to undergo no sUght
penance ; a considerable number of these artisans being dressed
up close in sheep and goat skins of different colours. The
representatives of the butchers were enveloped in hides, -with
long towering horns, and rode along brandishing knives and

OF HIS 0-W-N TIMES. 143
cleavers — a most formidable-looking corporation ! The apothe
caries made up and distributed piUs and boluses on their plat
form, which was furnished with numerous pestles and mortars
so contrived as to sound, in the grinding, Uke beUs, and pounding
out some popular air. Each corporation had its appropriate
band and colours ; perfect order was maintained ; and so proud
was the Dubhn mob of what they caUed their fringes, that on
these peculiar occasions they managed to behave with great
decorum and propriety.
I never could guess the reason why, but the crowd seemed
ever in the most anxious expectation to see the tailors, who were
certainly the favourites. The master tailors usuaUy borrowed
the best horses from their customers ; and as they were not ac
customed to horseback, the scene was highly ludicrous. A tador
on a sphited horse has always been esteemed a curiosity ; but a
troop of a hundred and fifty tadors, aU decked with ribbons and
lace and every species of finery, on horses equaUy smart, pre
sented a spectacle outvying description ! The journeymen and
apprentices walked — except that number of workmen on the
platform. St. Crispin with his last, St. Andrew with his cross,
and St. Luke with his gridiron, were aU included in the show ;
as were the city officers in their full robes and paraphernaha.
The gudd of merchants being under the especial patronage of
the Holy Trinity, could not, with aU their ingenuity, find out
any unprofane emblem, except a shamrock of huge dimensions !
the three distinct leaves whereof are on one stalk. This, by the
way, offered St. Patrick means of explaining the Trinity, and
thereby of converting the Irish to Christianity ; and, hence, the
shamrock became the national emblem of Ireland. The mer
chants had also a large ship on wheels, drawn and manned by
sadors. This singular procession I twice -witnessed : it has shice been
abohshed, after having worked wed, and done no harm, from the
days of the very first lord mayor of DubUn. The city authorities,
however, began at length to think venison and claret would be
better things for the same expense ; and so it was decided that

144 barrington's personal sketches
the money should remain in the purse of the corporation, and a
wretched substitute for the old ceremony was arranged. The
lord mayor and sheriffs, with some dozen of dhty constables,
now perambulate these bounds in privacy and sUeuce ; thus de
feating, in my mind, the very intention of their charter, and
taking away a triennial prospective object of great attraction
and pride to the inhabitants of the metropolis of Ireland, for the
sole purpose of gratifying the sensual appetites of a city aristo
cracy, who court satiety and indigestion at the expense of their
humbler brethren.*
* This overflow of indignation can scald no one now. The du-ty constables
have passed away, and left not a wreck behind.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 145

IRISH REBELLION.
Many incidents which, I really think, could not have occurred
in any country except Ireland, took place there in the year 1798.
There is something so very different from other people in every
deed or word of the unsophisticated Irish, that in fact one has
no right to be surprised, whatever scenes may by them be acted.
One of these curious occurrences remains even to this day a
subject of surmise and mystery. During the rebeUion in County
Wexford in 1798, Mr. Waddy, a violent loyaUst, but surrounded
by a neighbourhood of inveterate insurgents, fled to a castle at a
considerable distance from the town of Wexford. Though not
in repah, it was not unfit for habitation ; and might secure its
tenant from any coup de main of undiscipUned insurgents. He
dreaded discovery so much, that he would entrust his place of
refuge to no person whatsoever ; and, as he conceived, took
sufficient food to last until he might escape out of the country.
There was but one entrance to the castle, and that was furnished
with an old ponderous portcuUis, which drew up and let down
as in ancient fortresses.
Here Mr. Waddy concealed himself ; and everybody was for
a long time utterly ignorant as to his fate : some said he was
dro^wned ; some, burned aUve ; others, murdered and buried in
ploughed ground ! but whUst each was wiUing to give an
opinion as to the mode of his destruction, no one supposed him
to be stUl alive. At length, it occurred to certain of his friends
to seek him through the country ; with which view they set out,
attended by an armed body. Theh search was in vain, untU
approaching by chance the old castle, they became aware of a
stench, which the seekers conjectured to proceed from the putrid
corpse of murdered Waddy. On getting nearer, this opinion was
VOL. I. l

146 barrington's personal sketches
confirmed ; for a dead body lay half within and liaK -without
the castle, which the descent of the portcudis had cut nearly into
equal portions. Poor Mr. Waddy was deeply lamented ; and,
though with great disgust, they proceeded to remove that half of
the carcase which lay outside the entrance, when, to their infinite
astonishment, they perceived that it was not Waddy, but a
neighbouring priest, who had been so expertly cut in two ; how
the accident had happened, nobody could surmise. They how
rapped and shouted, but no reply ; Waddy, in good truth, lay
close within, supposing them to be rebels. At length, on ven
turing to peep out, he discovered his friends, whom he joyfoUy
requested to raise, if possible, the portcuUis, and let him out, as
he was almost starved to death.
This, with difficulty, was effected, and the other haK of the
priest was discovered immediately within the entrance, but by
no means in equaUy good condition -with that outside ; inasmuch
as it appeared that numerous coUops and beef-steaks had been
cut off the reverend gentleman's hind quarters by Waddy, who,
early one morning, had found the priest thus di-vided ; and being
ahke unable to raise the portcuUis or get out to look for food
(certain indeed, in the latter case, of being piked by any of the
rebels who knew him), he thought it better to feed on the priest,
and remain in the castle tUl fortune smUed, than run a risk of
breaking all his bones by dropping from the battlements — his
only alternative.
To the day of Waddy's death, he could give no coUected
or rational account of this incident ; indeed, so confused had
his head become in consequence of his critical circumstances,
that the whole appeared to him ever after as a dream or vision
quite beyond his comprehension.
The foregoing, though among the most curious, is but one
of the extraordinary occurrences of that dreadful rnsurrection
— some of which tend to strengthen my superstitious feehng,
which is, I confess, very deep-rooted, as also is my conviction,
that " whatever is, is right." Scarcely any except the fortunate
wdl, I suppose, be ready to join me m the latter notion, though

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 147
ia the former I am aware I have many associates, particularly
amongst old women and hypochondriacs. I am, it is true, per
petually laughed at for both, by clever ladies and strong-minded
gentlemen, but stiU think proper to retain my own impressions.
I wdl detad the foUowing circumstance ia iUustration of
these principles. It took place immediately previous to the
breakiag out of the rebeUion.
I dined at the house of Lady Colclough (a near relative of
Lady Barrington), in the tcwn of Wexford, in Aprd 1798. The
company, so far as I recoUect, consisted of about seventeen
persons, amongst whom were several other of Lady B.'s relatives,
then members of the grand jury — Mr. Cornelius Grogan of
Johnstown, a gentleman of very large fortune who had repre
sented the county ; his two brothers, both wealthy men ; Cap
tain Keogh, afterwards rebel governor of Wexford, the husband
of Lady B.'s aunt ; the unfortunate John Colclough of Tintern,
and the stdl more unfortunate Mr. Colclough ; Counsellor John
Beauman ; CounseUor Bagenal Harvey, afterwards the rebel
generaUssimo ; Mr. WUliam Hatton, and some others. The
conversation after dinner, turning on the distracted state of the
country, became rather too free, and I begged some of the
party to be more moderate, as our ways of thinking were so
different, and my public situation did not permit me, especiaUy
at that particular period, to- hear such strong language ; the
loyahsts amongst us did not exceed four or five.
The tone of the conversation was soon lowered, but not
before I had made up my mind as to the probable fate of several
ia company, though I certainly had no idea that, in little more
than a month, a sanguinary rebeUion would desolate my native
land, and violent deaths, within three months, befall a great pro
portion of that joyous assemblage. I had seen enough, however,
to convince me that aU was not right ; and that, by plunging
one step further, most of my relatives and friends would be ia
imminent danger. The party, however, broke up ; and next
morning Mr. Beauman and myself, happening to meet on the
bridge, talked over the occurrences of the previous day, uniting

148 barrington's personal sketches
in opinion as to the inauspicious aspect of things, and actuaUy
proceeding to make out a list of those amongst the dinner-party
whom we considered Ukely to faU victims. It so turned out
that every one of our predictions was verffied. It was superficial
observation alone that led me to think as I did at that moment,
but a decided presentiment of what eventuaUy happened soon
after took possession of me ; and, indeed, so fuU was I of fore
bodings, that I have more than once been roused out of my
sleep by the horrid ideas then floating through my mind.
Bagenal Harvey, already mentioned, who had been my
school-feUow and constant circuit-companion for many years,
laughed, at Lady Colclough's, at my poUtical prudery ; assured
me I was totaUy -wrong in suspecting him ; and insisted on my
going to Bargay Castle, his residence, to meet some old Temple
friends of ours on the ensuing Monday.
I accordingly went there to diimer, but that evening proved
to me one of great uneasiness, and made a very disagreeable im
pression on my mind and spirits. The company I met included
my relation. Captain Keogh ; the two unfortunate CounseUors
Sheares, who were both hanged shortly afterwards ; Mr. Col
clough, who was hanged on the bridge ; Mr. Hay, who was also
executed ; Mr. WUUam Hatton, one of the rebel dhectory of
Wexford, who unaccountably escaped ; and a gentleman of the
bar whose name I shaU not mention, as he stiU Uves.
The entertainment was good, and the party cheerful. Temple
freaks were talked over ; the bottle circulated ; but, at length,
Irish pohtics became the topic, and proceeded to an extent of
disclosure which utterly surprised me. With the Messrs.
Sheares, particularly Henry, I had always been on terms of the
greatest intimacy. Not long before, I had extricated both of
them from considerable difficulty, through the kindness of Lord
KUwarden ; and I had no idea that matters wherein they were
concerned had proceeded to the lengths developed on that night
The probabUity of a speedy revolt was freely discussed, though
in the most artfid manner. They talked it over as a result
wbich might be expected from the complexion of the times and

of his own times. 149
the hritation excited in consequence of the severities exercised
by the government. The chances of success, in the event of a
rismg, were openly debated, as were also the circumstances likely
to spring fr'om that success, and the examples which the insur
gents would in such a case probably make. AU this was at the
same time talked over, without one word being uttered in favour
of rebeUion; a system of caution which, I afterwards learned,
was much practised for the purpose of graduaUy making prose
lytes -without alarming them. I saw through it clearly, and here
my presentiments came strong upon me. I found myseK in the
midst of absolute though unavowed consphators. I perceived
that the explosion was much nearer than the government ex
pected ; and I was startled at the decided maimer in which my
host and his friends spoke.
Under these chcumstances, my alternative e-vidently was to
quit the house or give a turn to the conversation. I therefore
began to laugh at the subject, and ridicule it as quite ¦visionary,
observing jestingly to Keogh — "Now, my dear Keogh, it is
quite clear that you and I, in this famous rebelUon, shaU be on
different sides of the question ; and of course one or the other of
us must necessarUy be hanged at or before its termination — I
upon a lamp-hon in Dublin, or you on the bridge of Wexford.
Now, we'U make a bargain ! — K we beat you, upon my honour
I'U do aU I can to save your neck ; and if your folks beat us,
you'U save me from the honour of the lamp-hon!"
We shook hands on the bargain, which created much merri
ment, and gave the whole after-talk a cheerful character ; and I
retumed to Wexford at twelve at night, ¦with a most decided
impression of the danger of the country, and a complete pre
sentiment that either myseK or Captain Keogh would never see
the conclusion of that summer.
I hnmediately wrote to Mr. Secretary Cooke, ¦without men
tioning names, place, or any particular source of knowledge ;
but simply to assure bim that there was not a doubt that an in
surrection would break out at a much earlier period than the
govemment expected. I deshed him to ask me no questions,

150 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
but said that he might depend upon the fact ; adding that a
commanding force ought instantly to be sent down to garrison
the town of Wexford. " If the government," said I in conclu
sion, " does not attend to my warning, it must take the conse
quences." My warning was not attended to ; but his Majestjr's
government soon found I was right. They lost Wexford, and
might have lost Ireland, by that culpable inattention.
The result needs scarcely be mentioned ; every member of
that jovial dinner-party, with the exception of myself, the bar
rister before aUuded to, and Mr. Hatton, was executed ¦within
three months ! On my next ¦visit to Wexford I saw the heads
of Captain Keogh, Mr. Harvey, and Mr. Colclough, on spikes
over the court-house door.
Previously to the final catastrophe, however, when the insur
gents had been beaten, Wexford retaken by our troops, and
Keogh made prisoner, I did not forget my promise to him at
Bargay Castle. Many certificates had reached DubUn of his
humanity to the royalists whUst the to^wn of Wexford was under
his government, and of attempts made upon his Ufe by Dixon, a
chief of his own party, for his endeavouring to resist the rebel
butcheries. I had intended to go with these dhectly to Lord
Camden, the Lord-Lieutenant ; but I first saw Mr. Secretary
Cooke, to whom I related the entire story and showed him
several favourable documents. He told me I might save myself
the trouble of going to Lord Camden ; and at the same time
handed me a dispatch received that morning from General Lake,
who stated that he had thought it necessary, on recapturiag
Wexford, to lose no time in " making examples " of the rebel
chiefs ; and that accordingly, Mr. Grogan of Johnsto^wn, Mr.
Bagenal Harvey of Bargay Castle, Captain Keogh, Mr. Col
clough, and some other gentlemen, had been hanged on the
bridge and beheaded the previous morning.
I felt shocked beyond measure at this inteUigence, particu
larly as I knew Mr. CorneUus Grogan — an exceUent gentleman,
seventy years of age, of very large fortune and estabUshments—
to be no more a rebel than myseK.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 151
I was at all times ready to risk my life to put down that
sphit of mad democracy which sought to subvert ad legal insti
tutions, and to support every true principle of the constitution
which protected us ; but, at the same time, I must in truth and
candour say, and I say it with reluctance, that, during those
most sanguinary scenes, the brutal conduct of certain frantic
royalists was at least on a parallel with that of the frantic rebels.
A short time after the recapture of Wexford, I traversed that
county, to see the ruins which had been occasioned by warfare.
Enniscorthy had been twice stormed, and was dUapidated and
nearly burned. New Ross showed most melancholy reUcs of tho
obstiaate and bloody battle of full ten hours' duration, which had
been fought in every street of it. The numerous pits crammed
-with dead bodies, on Vinegar Hdl, seemed on some spots ac
tuaUy elastic as we stood upon them ; whilst the waUs of an old
windmill on its summit appeared stained and splashed with the
blood and brains of the many victims who had been piked or
shot against it by the rebels. The court-house of Enniscorthy,
wherem our troops had burned alive above eighty of the wounded
rebels ; and the barn of ScuUabogue, where the rebels had re-
taUated by burning aUve above 120 Protestants, were terrffic
ruins ! The town of Gorey was utterly destroyed, not a house
beiag left perfect ; and the bodies of the kiUed were lying haK-
covered in sundry ditches in its -vicinity. It was here that
Colonel Walpole had been defeated and kUled a few days
before.* * Colonel Walpole was a pecuUarly handsome man, au aide-de-camp to Lord
Camden. As he had not seen actual service, he begged to be entrusted with some
command that might give him an opportunity of fighting for a few weeks in the
County Wexford, and of "writing some elegant despatches to his exceUency, the
Lord Lieutenant. The Lord Lieutenant indulged him with a body of troops, and
sent him to fight in the County Wexford, as he requested ; but on passing the
town of Gorey, not being accustomed to advanced guards or flankers, he over
looked such trifles altogether ; and ha-ying got into a defile -with some cannon and
the Anti-irn regiment, in a few minutes the Colonel was shot through the head —
the cannon changed masters — and most of the Antrim heroes had each a pike, ten
or twelve feet long, sticking in his carcase. Sic transit gloria mundi ! — {Author's
note.)

152 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
An unaccountable chcumstance was witnessed by me on that
tour immediately after the retaking of Wexford. General Lake,
as I have before mentioned, had ordered the heads of Mr. Grogan,
Captain Keogh, Mr. Bagenal Harvey, and Mr. Colclough, to be
placed on very low spikes, over the court-house door of Wexford
A faithful servant of Mr. Grogan had taken away his head ; but
the other three remained there when I -visited the town. The
mutUated countenances of friends and relatives, in such a situa
tion, would, it may be imagined, give any man most horrKying
sensations ! The heads of Mr. Colclough and Harvey appeared
black lumps, the features bemg utterly undistinguishable ; that
of Keogh was uppermost, but the ah had made no impression on
it whatever ! His comely and respect-insphing face, except the
Uvid hue, was the same as in Ufe : his eyes were not closed — his
hah not much ruffied : in fact, it appeared to me rather as a head
of chiseUed marble than the remains of a human creature. I
prevaUed on General Hunter, who then commanded in Wexford,
to suffer the three heads to be taken do'wn and buried.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 153

WOLF TONE.
Theobald Wolf Tone was one of the most remarkable of the
persons who lost theh Uves in consequence of that wUd demo
cratic mania, which, at the period treated of in the former sketch,
had seized upon the reason of so many otherwise sensible indi-
-viduals. His catastrophe cannot fad to be interesting.
This gentleman's enthusiastic mind was etemaUy surrounded
by the mist of visionary speculation : it was a fine sader, but
wanted baUast. He had distinguished himseK somewhat in the
University as a desultory declaimer ; but, in my judgment, that
was the fuU extent of his powers. He was neither high-born nor
wealthy ; I fear even a steady competency was not at his com
mand ; and hence his sphit, naturaUy restless, was additionaUy
goaded and inflamed.
It is a curious chcumstance that Mr. Tone, a decided revolu
tionist and rebel, married, improvidently enough, one sister,
whdst Mr. Thomas Reynolds, who betrayed the friends of Tone
and of himseK, espoused another.
Tone was caUed to the Irish bar ; but had been previously
over-rated, and did not succeed. I thought it a pity, as he was
reaUy a good-hearted person, that he should not be fahly tried,
and, if possible, pushed forward ; and being myseK high on the
chcuit, I took him round in my carriage three times, and then
thought wed of him ; but he was too Ught and visionary ; and,
as for law, was quite incapable of imbibing that species of
science.* His person was unfavourable ; his countenance thin
and saUow ; and he had in his speech a harsh guttural pronun
ciation of the letter B — a defect shared by him in common with
* Which does this reflect on ; the comprehension of Tone or the incomprehen
sibility of legal science t Let the la-wyers themselves decide.

154 barrington's personal sketches
Mr Croker, of the Admhalty, who indeed resembled him in per
sonal appearance greatly, but was somewhat Tone's inferior ia
elocution. It is my beUef that Tone could not have succeeded in any
steady civd profession. He was not worldly enough, nor had he
sufficient common sense for his guidance. His biography has
been repeatedly pubUshed, and I only intend here to aUude to
the extraordinary chcumstances of his death ; an event upon
which I confess I had many painful feeUngs, and not the less so
from its being connected with my o-wn judicial functions.
He had been taken in arms by Sh John Borlase Warren, at
sea, in a French frigate, proceeding to land troops in Ireland.
He wore the unKorm of a French officer ; but being recognised,
brought prisoner to Dublin, and deUvered over for trial to the
provost-marshal and miUtary authorities, he was of course con
demned to be hanged. I did not see him under these distressiag
chcumstances, nor in ti'uth was it my wish to do so ; for although
there existed between us no actual friendship, stdl I had a strong
feehng for a gentleman with whom I had been so well acquaiated
It occurred to his counsel that the jurisdiction of martial law
could not extend to him, as it only operated on land, and he had
been taken at sea. An appUcation was therefore made to the
Common Pleas, to have him brought up by Habeas Corpus, ia
order (the point being ascertained) to be regularly tried before
the competent tribunal, the court of Admiralty. The Habeas
Corpus being granted, was served on General Craig, who then
commanded in Dublin, but who refused to obey it, and was
attached for his disobedience ; an order being consequently made
for the general and some of his staff to be taken into custody by
the officers of the court.
To me, as Judge of the Admiralty, this appeal was most dis
tressing. Had Tone the least chance of escape in any court, or
upon any trial, it might have been other-wise ; but he could not
be defended ; and to have him brought before me only to -witness
his conviction, and to pronounce his sentence, shocked me ex
tremely. His friends thought this course might prolong his fate

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 155
a considerable time, and it was supposed that something might
iatermediately occur calculated to effect a commutation of the
capital punishment. I knew better ! I was convinced that his
execution was determined on : it was unavoidable, and I felt
great uneasiness.
The court ha-ving ordered General Craig, and Major Sandys,
provost-marshal, to be arrested for disobedience, both these gen
tlemen submitted, and the pursuivant was then directed to bring
up the body of Theobald WoK Tone, on the -writ of Habeas
Corpus. The judges sat patiently awaiting the officer's return ;
and the decision being of great importance, the court was crowded
to suffocation. A considerable time elapsed, and stdl the pursuivant returned
not. A length he appeared, -with horror in his looks, and scarcely
able to speak. He informed the court that Mr. Tone, feeling
certain of execution by order of the miUtary, and being ignorant
of the motion which his friends thought might give hhn some
chance for his Ufe, had cut his throat from ear to ear, and,
he beUeved, was dying ! A surgeon now attended, who re
ported that the prisoner had certainly cut his throat, but that
recovery was possible : the incision was long and deep, but had
missed the artery, and he stdl Uved. Of course, the trial was
postponed ; every friend he had (and I think he had many
amongst the bar) rejoicing that poor Tone had escaped a pubhc
execution. He lingered awlide ; and wiU it be beUeved, that
when the wound had been connected, and whdst Ufe stiU seemed
to be precarious, owing to the extreme inflammation ; I say wUl it
be beUeved that there existed cruelty sufficient in the breast of
any human creature to ad-vise his execution, although it would
have been impossible to put the sentence in force -without insert
ing the rope within the wound, and nearly tearing away the
unfortunate gentleman's head from his body ? Yet such advice
was given, for " the sake of example ; " but rejected, I am happy
to say, with horror ! I wiU spare the man who gave it the igno
miny which would thence attach to his name were it mentioned.

156 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES

DUBLIN ELECTION.
In 1803 I had become particularly popular in Dubhn. I was
not at enmity -with any sect or any party. The losses and depri
vations which the citizens of Dublin were suffering in conse
quence of the Union brought to theh recoUection the fact of my
having been one of its most zealous opponents. They knew that
I had entertained professional ambition ; and they also knew
that, in order to oppose that measure, and support the inde
pendence of the nation as wed as my own, I had -with open eyes
sacrfficed aU the objects of my ambition ; that I had refused the
most gratKying proposals ; and, in maintenance of principle, had
set my face decidedly against the measures of that government
which I had on other occasions supported, and which alone
possessed the power to advance me. They knew that I had braved
the animosity of ChanceUor Clare, whom few had ever ventured
to oppose so decidedly as myself; and that I had utterly re
nounced Lord Castlereagh, by whom aU means were employed
to attach me. In fact, the citizens of DubUn recoUected that I
had abandoned every prospect in Ufe to uphold theh interest ;
and consequently many persons on both sides of poUtics had
proposed to me to become a candidate for the representation of
the metropolis in parliament. Some enthe corporations voted me
theh freedom and support ; and a great number of the freeholders
tendered me their aid. Having, in addition, an extensive personal
interest of my own, I at length determined to stand the contest.
Persons of the first weight and rank came forward in my
favour ; and amongst these I am proud to enumerate his Grace
the Duke of Leinster, Mr. Grattan, Mr. George Ponsonby, Mr.
Curran, and Mr Plunket ; several of the most respectable mem
bers of my own i.irofession, and many private gentlemen. Indeed,

OJ HIS OWN TIMES. 157
the mode wherein I was brought forward, and the parties by
whom I was encouraged, could not but gratify me highly.
The city, however, immediately divided into two inveterate
factions, one of which declared for Mr. Beresford, the banker, and
Mr. Ogle, the Orange chieftain ; whdst the other supported Mr.
Latouche and myseK. A fifth gentleman, Sh John Jervoise
White Jervoise, Bart., also announced himself a candidate, on
the strength of his own personal connections and individual pro
perty in the city, backed by any second votes he could pick up
amongst the rest.
DubUn differs from London in this respect — inasmuch as,
there must be an individual canvass requiring hard labour of at
least two months or ten weeks, by day and by night, to get
through it cleverly. One custom alone takes up an immensity
of time, which, though I beUeve it never existed anywhere else,
has good sense to recommend it. The grand corporation of
Dublm comprises twenty-five minor corporations or trades, each
independent of the other ; and aU (knowing their o^wn importance
previous to an election, and theh insignfficance after it is over)
affect the state and authority of a Venetian senate, and say
shrewdly enough — " How can we, ignorant men ! ' teU who is
fittest to represent Dublin tdl we have an opportunity of know
ing theh abilities?" For the purpose of acquiring this know
ledge, each corporation appoints a day to receive the candidates
in due foi-maUty in its haU ; and each candidate is then caUed
on to make an oration, in order to give the electors power of
judging as to his capabiUty to speak in parUament. So that, in the
progress of his canvass, every candidate must make twenty-four
or twenty-six speeches in his best style ! Nothing can be more
amusing than the gra'vity and decorum, where-with the journey
men barbers, hosiers, skinners, cooks, etc. etc., receive the can
didates, Usten to their fine florid harangues, and then begin to
debate amongst themselves as to their comparative merits ; and,
in truth, assume as much importance as the diplomatists at
Vienna, with intentions to the fuU as good !
However, I got through my canvass of nearly three months.

158 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
and remained tolerably in my senses at the conclusion of it ;
though, most undoubtedly, I drank as much porter and whisky
with the electors themselves, and as much tea and cherry-brandy
with their wives, as would have ended my days on any other
occasion. But I loved the people of Dublin ; I had hved more
than thirty years amongst them ; was upon good terms with all
parties and societies ; and, K elected, I should have been a very
faithful, and I trust, an effective representative.
The humours of an Irish canvass can only be known to those
who have witnessed them ; and, I believe, no election, even in
Ireland, ever gave rise to more of what is termed real/w?i. Most
of the incidents are too tri-vial and too local for detad ; but there
were some so ludicrous, that, even at this moment, I can scarce
refrain from laughing at theh recoUection
Never was a business of the kind conducted with more
spirit ; and, at the same time, a degree of good temper pre
vaded, not to have been expected in a contest which caUed mto
play the most fiery and rancorous party feehngs ; and the
genuine stream of humour, that steadUy flowed on, had a great
effect in washing away any marks of UI blood. It is with pride
I relate that the four voters who formed my first taUy were— Mr.
George Ponsonby (afterwards Lord ChanceUor), Mr. Henry
Grattan, Mr. WUUam Plunket (the present Attorney-General),*
and Mr. John Pbilpott Curran ; and that the two former accom
panied their votes by far more than merited eulogies.
I lost the election ; but I poded to the end bf the fifteen
days, aud had the gratffication of thinking that I broke the knot
of a ¦virulent ascendency, was the means of Mr. Latouche's suc
cess, and like^wise of Mr. Grattan's subsequent return.
In the course of that election many curious incidents oc
curred ; and as everything which relates to Mr. Grattan, and
tends to elucidate the character and pecuUarities of that most
* Afterwards Lord Plunket and Lord Chancellor : a man equal in strength
and energy to Brougham ; more fertUe in imagination ; and of nicer skiU in
the details of composition. As polished as an antique marble, he had all its sym
metry, development, and dignity.

OF HIS O-WN TIMES. 159
pure and eminent of my countrymen, must necessarUy be inte
resting, I feel myself justffied in detailing a few anecdotes,
though in themselves of no particular importance.
In the days of unsophisticated patiiotism, when the very
name of Grattan operated as a speU to rouse the energies and
sphit of his country ; when the schisms of party bigotry had
yielded to the common weal, and pubhc men obtained that
pubUc gratitude which they merited ; the corporation of Dubhn
m some lucid interval of the sottish malady which has ever
distinguished that inconsiderate and intemperate body, obtained
a fuU-length portrait of Henry Grattan, then termed their great
deUverer. His name graced their corporate rods as a heredi
tary freeman,* when the jealous maUce of that rancorous and
persevering enemy of every man opposed to him, the Earl of
Clare, in a secret committee of the House of Lords, introduced
into their report some Unes of a deposition by one Hughes, a
rebel who had been made a -witness, and was induced to coin
evidence to save his o-wn Ufe, detaUing a conversation which he
aUeged himseK to have had with Mr. Grattan, wherein the latter
had o-wned that he was a United Irishman. Everybody knew
the total falsity of this. Indeed, Mr. Grattan was a man whose
principles had been on certain occasions considered too aristo
cratic ; and yet he was now denounced, in the slang of the Lord
ChanceUor, " an infernal democrat" The corporation of Dublin
caught the sound, and, -without inquiry, tore down from their
walls the portrait which had done them so much honour, and
expeUed Grattan from the corporation -without trial or notice.
On the election in question, I was proposed by Mr. George
Ponsonby, and upon Mr. Grattan rising next to vote upon my
taUy, he was immediately objected to as having been expeUed on
the report of Lord Clare's committee. A burst of indignation on
the one side, and of boisterous declamation on the other, forth
with succeeded. It was of an alarmtag nature : Grattan mean
whde standing sUent, and regarding, -with a smUe of the most
* Mr. Grattan's father had been recorder of Dublin, and representative in par
Uament for that cit^.— (Author's note.)

160 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
ineffable contempt ever expressed, his shameless accusers. The
objection was made by Mr John Giffard, of whom hereafter.
On the first intermission of the tumult, with a cahn and digni
fied ah, but in that energetic style and tone so peeuhar to him
seK, Mr. Grattan deUvered the following memorable words—
memorable, because conveying in a few short sentences the most
overwhelming philippic — the most irresistible assemblage of
terms imputing pubhc depravity, that the Enghsh, or, I beheve,
any other language, is capable of affording : —
" Mr. Sheriff, when I observe the quarter from whence the
objection comes, I am not surprised at its being made ! It pro
ceeds from the hhed traducer of his country — the excommuni
cated of his feUow-citizens — the regal rebel — ^the unpunished
ruffian — the bigoted agitator ! In the city a firebrand — in the
court a Uar — in the streets a buUy — in the field a coward!
And so obnoxious is he to the very party he -wishes to espouse,
that he is only supportable by doing those dirty acts the less vde
refuse to execute."*
Giffard, thunderstruck, lost his usual assurance, and repUed,
in one single sentence, " I would spit upon him in a desert !" —
which vapid and unmeaning exclamation was his sole retort !
I caUed for the roU, and, on inspection, Mr. Grattan's name
appeared never to have been erased. Of course, the objection
was overruled : my friend voted, and his triumph was complete.
The erasure of his name from the roU was never afterwards
attempted ; and, on the dissolution of that parUament, he was
requested by the very same body to stand forward as theh
" most iUustrious countryman," and elected by acclamation in
that very same court-house, as the representative of the city and
corporation which had so recently endeavoured to debase and
destroy him. His chairing was attended with enthusiasm by
those who some time before would with equal zeal have attended
* I confess that a tempest of this quality sings in my ear very unapprovedly.
1 do not wonder at a regal rebel, nor am I terrified by an unpunished ruffian ; a
court liar is no monster of a curiosity ; and a street bully is but a "juvenile
offender.'' The ears of the groundlings, however, must be split ; and Grattan
was a gi-eat thunderbolt. This must not be taken in a disparaging sense.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 161
his execution. Never was there exhibited a more complete proof
of causeless popular versatdity ;* which, indeed, was repeatedly
practised on that real patriot.
Mr. John Giffard, the subject of the foregoing phdippic, was
a very remarkable person. He had a great deal of vulgar talent ;
a daring impetuosity ; and was wholly indifferent to opinion.
From first to last he fought his way through the world ; and
finaUy worked himseK up to be the most sturdy partisan I ever
recollect in the train of government. His detestation of the
Pope and his adoration of King WilUam he carried to an excess
quite ridiculous ; in fact, on both subjects he seemed occasionaUy
deUrious. I did not agree with Mr. Grattan as to aU the epithets
wherewith he honoured the captain. "A coward" he most cer
tainly was not. With aU his faults, or crimes if they should be
caUed so, he had several quaUties which in social intercourse are
highly valuable. He was as warm-hearted and friendly a person
as 1 ever met with ; and, on the other hand, a bitterer enemy
never existed : I don't think he ever was mine.
Giffard was originaUy an apothecary. When I was at the
Dublin University the students were wUd and lawless ; any
offence to one was considered as an offence to aU ; and as the
elder sons of most men of rank and fortune in Ireland were then
educated in Dublin CoUege, it was dangerous to meddle with so
powerful a set of students, who consequently did precisely what
they chose outside the college-gates. If they conceived offence
against any body, the coUegians made no scruple of bringing the
offender mto the court, and pumping him weU ; and their una
nimity and numbers were so great, that it was quite impossible
any youth could be selected for punishment. In my time, we
used to break open what houses we pleased . — regularly beating
the watch every night, except in one parish, which we always
kept in pay, to lend us theh poles wherewith to fight the others.
In short, our conduct was outrageous ; and the first check we
* It was a sad trial for one of the greatest and best of men that ever adorned
a nation's annals.
VOL. I. M

162 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
ever received was from Giffard, who was a director of the watch,
and kept a shop close to the ParUament House.
Ha-ving in some way annoyed the coUegians, he was con
demned to the pump ; but he intrenched himself in his house,
which we assaded, breaking aU the -windows. He gave us re
peated warnings to no purpose ; and on a new assault being
commenced, fired a pistol. A collegian was wounded in the
-wrist, whereupon the besiegers hnmediately rethed from the
fortress. It was a lucky shot for Giffard, who immediately obtained
some parochial office for his firmness ; made himseK of import
ance on every trifling subject, and harangued constantly in the
vestry. Of his subsequent progi'ess I know nothing tdl about
the year 1790, when I became a pubhc character, and found
Giffard an attacM to the Castle in divers capacities. He was
afterwards placed in the revenue department, became a common-
councdman, and at length high-sheriff; at which epoch he
acquired the title which forsook him not, of " The Dog in Office"
though wherefore I could never rightly make out. His acts
from that period became part of the general statistical history of
Irish politics. One of his sons was butchered in cool blood by
the rebels at Kddare, which naturady increased his ferocity.
His eldest son, Harding Giffard, and Mr. Croker of the Ad
miralty, married two sisters in Waterford. JMr. Croker's
good luck enabled him to aid his relative, who, ha-ving tried
the Irish Bar in vain for several years, became Chief-Justice of
Ceylon. Durhig the election we are speaking of, one Horish, a master
chimney-sweeper, appeared on the hustings. This man, being
known to have several votes at command besides his o-wn, had
been strongly canvassed, but would promise neither of the can
didates, nor give the least hint how he intended to vote.
During the rebeUion of 1798 Mr. John Beresford, one of the
candidates, had budt a riding-house for his yeomanry troop,
which had been also much used as a place for whipping sus
pected persons hi, to make them discover what in aU proba-

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 163
biUty they never knew — a practice equally just and humane,
and UberaUy resorted to by miUtary officers pending that troub
lous era.
In Mr Beresford's ridhig-house this infernal system was car
ried on to a greater extent than in any of the similar slaughter
houses then tolerated in the metropolis. To such au extent,
iadeed, that some Irish wags had one night the words, " Mangling
done here by J. Beresford and Co." painted upon a sign-board,
and fixed over the entrance.
It happened that this same Horish had been amongst those
who had paid to their long and country a fuU share of skin for
the crime of beiag suspected. He had not forgotten the couple
of hundred lashes on his bare carcass which he had received in
Mr Beresford's riding-house : but the circumstance was, as a
thing of an ordinary natiire, totaUy forgotten by the candidate.
Horish, a coarse, rough-lookhig, strong-built, independent,
and at the moment weU-dressed brute of a feUow, remained quite
coquettish as to his votes.* " Let me see !" said he, feeUng his
importance, and unwdhng to part -with it (which would be the
case the moment he had poUed), and looking earnestly at aU the
candidates, — " Let me see ! who shaU I vote for ? — I'm very
hard to please, gentlemen, I assure you !" He hesitated ; we aU
pressed : — " Fair and easy, gentlemen," said Horish, looking at
each of us again, " don't hurry a man !"
" Barrington," cried impatient Beresford, " I know that honest
feUow Horish -wiU vote for me !" Horish stared, but said nothing.
"Indeed, he -wiU not," replied I, "eh, Horish?" Horish
looked, but remained sdent.
" I'U lay you a rump and dozen," exclaimed Beresford, " on
the matter."
Horish now started into a sort of animation, but coolly repUed,
— " You'U lose that same rump and dozen, Mr. Beresford ; 'twas
many a dozen you gave me already in the riding-house, and to
the de\dl I bob that kind of entertainment ; but if ever I have the
honour of meeting you up a chimney, depend on it, Mr. Beresford,
* Sir Jonah uses a heavy brush, but in general very good colours.

164 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
I'U treat you with aU the civility imaginable ! Come, boys, we'U
poll away for the counseUor !" and I was supported, I beUeve, by
every chimney-sweeper in the city of Dublin, and they were
many, who had votes.*
* Sam. Lover said that Barrington did not give the sweep's name right : —
" 'Twas Borish, or should be!" »

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 165

ELECTION FOR COUNTY WEXFORD.
It is to be lamented that the biographers and eulogists of
Eichard Brinsley Sheridan should have suppressed some of the
most creditable incidents of his variegated Ufe, whdst his memory
is disgraced by pretended friends and Uterary admirers.*
These writers have raked up from his ashes, and exposed to
pubhc indignation,t every faiUng of that great and gifted man ;
so that, K theh own productions were by any chance to become
permanent, they would send him down to posterity as a witty,
but low and dissipated sharper ; or, in their very best colouring,
as the most talented t of mean and worthless mendicants.
Amongst the incidents that have been overlooked is one both
extraordinary and melancholy, and forming an honourable com
ment on Mr. Sheridan's public character.
In speaking thus, I deeply regret that one of his cruel bio
graphers should be a man whom I esteem ; and I regret it the
more, since he has used poor Sheridan as a chopping-block,
whereon to hack the character of the most iUustrious person of
the British Empire, who has been accused oi pecuniary illiberality.
A chcumstance accidentaUy came to my knowledge to disprove
the charge.
On the general election of 1808, Mr. John Colclough of
Tintern Abbey, County Wexford, a near relative of mine, and
locum tenens of his elder brother, Mr. Csesar Colclough, who had
been long resident on the Continent, declared himself for the
* It is stiU more to be lamented that the records of his wit are so meagre.
What Mick Kelly has gathered, who had been his daily intimate for thirty years,
would scarcely fiU thirty pages, and not fill them well.
t Thanks to Future Justice, the best of all divinities, his virtues survive, and
his failings are forgiven.
X This -viUauous word is not yet English.

166 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
second time candidate for Wexford County, which he had repre
sented in the previous parUament. The Colclough estates were
large, the freeholders thereon numerous, and devoted to the in
terest of theh patriotic leader, whose uncle, Mr. John Grogan, of
Johnstown Castle, also a relative of mine, possessed of a very
large fortune and extensive tenantry, had united wdth his nephew
and other most respectable and independent gentlemen of that
county, to Uberate its representation from the trammels of certain
noblemen who had for many years usurped its domination. Mr
Colclough was determined to put the pride, spirit, and patriotism
of the county to proof, and therefore proposed Mr. Eichard Brin
sley Sheridan as joint-candidate with himself, declarmg that he
was authorised by the independent freeholders of the country to
say that they should feel the greatest gratffication ia being
represented by so distinguished an ornament to the name of
Irishman. Mr. Colclough and Mr. Sheridan were therefore nominated
on the one hand ; and Mr. Alcock, supported by the interest of
the influenced electors, on the other
Never yet was any poU conducted by more resolute, active,
and zealous partisans, but it is lamentable to add that they were
equaUy intemperate as zealous. The flame of patriotism had
caught the mass of the population ; tenants no longer obeyed the
dictates of theh absent landlords nor the menaces of tyrannic
agents : no man could count on the votes of his former vassals.
The hustings was thronged with crowds of tenantry, constitu
tionaUy breaking away from their shackles, and voting according
to their principles of free agency for Sheridan, a man known to
them only by the celebrity of his talents. The poU proceeded :
the independent party was advancing fast to success ; and had
the election continued, there is no doubt but that Mr. Sheridan
would have been a representative for Wexford County. At this
crisis occurred one of the most unfortunate and melancholy
events on Irish record, and by which the contest was terminated,
as if the untoward destiny of Sheridan withered everytlung that
came in contact with it.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 167
Several tenants of a person who had given his interest to
Mr Alcock absolutely refused to vote for that gentleman, de
clarmg that at every risk they would support Colclough and
" the great Sheridan." Mr. Alcock's partisans perverted the free
agency of these men into seduction on the part of Mr Colclough :
hence a feeling decidedly hostile was excited ; the fierce zeal
and frenzy of election partisanship burst into a flame ; and Mr.
Colclough was requhed to decUne such votes, or to receive them
at his perd.
Of course he disregarded this outrageous threat, and open
war ensued. One party lost sight of reason ; both, of humanity ;
and it was determined, that before the opening of next morning's
pod, the candidates should decide, by single combat, the con
tested question. With what indignation and horror must such
a resolution, at once assaiUng law, good morals, and decency, be
now regarded ! and how wdl the feeUng of surprise increase from
its being passed over with impunity !*
Early on the eventful morning many hundred people as
sembled to witness the affair ; and it wiU scarcely be beUeved
that no less than eleven or twelve county justices stood by, pas
sive spectators of the bloody scene which foUowed, without an
effort, or apparently a wish, to stop the proceeding.
Both combatants were remarkably near-sighted ; and Mr.
Alcock determined on wearing glasses, which was resisted by the
friends of Mr. Colclough, who would wear none. The partisans
of the former, however, persevered, and he did wear them. The
ground at length was marked ; the anxious crowd separated on
either side, as theh party feelings led them ; but aU seemed to
feel a common sense of horror and repugnance. The unfeeUng
seconds handed to each principal a couple of pistols ; and placing
them about eight or nine steps asunder, withdrew, leaving two
gentlemen of fortune and character — brother-candidates for the
'* The style of this narration is uncommonly tall, and never shrinks from first
to last. The whole would have been better told in ten lines ; but, as Newton
said, a good squeeze would put the world into a nutshell : which would he a seri
ous hurt to the landed interests.

168 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
county — and former friends, nay, intimate companions — standing
in the centre of a field, without any personal offence given or re
ceived, encouraged by false friends, and permitted by unworthy
magistrates, to butcher each other as quickly and as effectuaUy
as their position and weapons would admit.
The sight was awful ! — a dead sdence and pause ensued ; the
great crowd stood in motionless suspense ; the combatants pre
sented ; men scarcely breathed ; the word was given : Mr Al
cock fired first, and his friend — his companion — one of the best
men of Ireland, instantly feU forward, shot through the heart ! he
spoke not — but turning on one side, his heart's blood gushed
forth — his limbs quivered — he groaned and expired. His pistol
exploded after he was struck — of course without effect.
The bystanders looked almost petrified. The profound stdl-
ness continued for a moment, horror having seized the multitude,
when, on the sudden, a loud and universal yeU, the ancient
practice of the Irish peasantry on the death of a chieftam, sim
ultaneously burst out like a peal of thunder from every quarter
of the field ; a yeU so savage and continuous — so like the tone
of revenge — that it would have appaUed any stranger to the
customs of the country. Alcock and his partisans immediately
retreated ; those of Colclough coUected round his body ; and
their candidate (a few moments before in health, sphits, and
vigour !) was mournfuUy borne back upon a plank to the town
of his nativity, and carried Ufeless through those very streets
which had that morning been prepared to signalise his triumph.
The election-poU, of course, proceeded -without further oppo
sition. The joint friends of Colclough and Sheridan, deprived
of their support, and thunderstruck at the event, thought of no
thing but lamentation ; and in one hour Mr. Alcock was declared
duly elected for Wexford County, solely through the death of
his brother-candidate, whom he had himseK that morning un
justly immolated.
A more wanton duel, a more unnecessa.ry, cruel, and in aU
points illegal transaction, never occurred in the United Emphe ;
yet, strange to say, of those eleven or twelve magistrates who

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 169
actuaUy stood by, as amateurs or partisans, in defiance of the
law and of theh duty, — not one was displaced or punished ! — a
precedent of impunity most discreditable to the high authorities
of that day, dangerous to the peace of the country, and subver
sive of the first principles of free election. Judge of Sheridan's
feelmgs on receiving this inteUigence ! and judge of the correct
ness of his biogi'aphers, who have suppressed the incident.*
Nor was poor Colclough's death the last act of the tragedy.
His friends thought themselves called on to prosecute Mr Alcock,
who fled, but subsequently retumed and surrendered for trial.
I attended, as special counsel for the prosecution ; Baron Smith
tried the cause. The evidence was stronger than I have deemed
it necessary to recite. The baron stated his opinion on the legal
distinctions as applicable to dueUing, and on that opinion the
bar differed. It was not the wish of the prosecutors to do more
than mark the transaction by a conviction for manslaughter,
which the law, under the chcumstances, seemed to render im
perative. However, the then poUtics of Wexford juries differed
not unfrequently both from the laws of God and the statute-
book ; and the verdict returned in this instance was, to the sur
prise of everyone, a general acquittal.
But, alas ! the acquitted dueUist suffered more in mind than
his victim had done in body. The horror of the scene, and the
solemnity of the trial, combined to make a fatal inroad on his
reason ! he became melancholy ; his understanding graduaUy
decUned ; a dark gloom enveloped his entire inteUect ; and an
excedent young mau and perfect gentleman at length sank into
irrecoverable imbecdity. Goaded by the vicious frenzy of elec
tion partisans, he had slam his friend ; and, haunted by reflec
tion and sorrow, he ended his own days in personal restraint and
mental ruin.
To this fatal duel there was yet another sad sequel. Miss
Alcock, sister of the member, had been most deeply affected by
the mournful catastrophe. She had known Colclough long and
* How the incident affects Sheridan or his biographers is not discoverable.
The tale is very illustrative of the times, but rather inconveniently long.

170 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
intimately ; and being an amiable and sensitive young woman,
her brother's absence, his trial, and his subsequent depression,
kept the gloomy transaction alive in her mind. She also gradu
ally wasted ; and the death of her brother sinking deeper and
deeper into a heart, aU whose sources of tranquUhty had been
dried up, her reason wandered, and the dreadful fate of her
friend and of her brother brought her to a premature grave.
A trivial anecdote wdl suffice to exhibit the general state of
Wexford County, and of the aristocracy and magistracy, many of
whom were a disgrace to their office, and completely filled up
Mr. Grattan's definition of a " regal rebel," by theh arrogance,
tyranny, oppression, and disaffection. By these men the peasan
try were goaded into a behef that justice was banished, and so
driven into the arms of the avowed rebels, who used every lure
to enforce their previous delusion.
A handsome young woman, maid-servant to a Mrs. Lett, who
was considered as a great patriot in Wexford, happened one
summer's evening to sit at her mistress's window singmg songs,
but to certain ahs that were not considered orthodox by the
aristocracy. The Marquess of Ely, with the high-sheriff and other gentle
men of the county, were retiring after theh wine from the grand
jury, and heard this unfortunate young shen warblmg at the
window ; but as the song sounded to theh loyal ears of a rebel
lious tendency, it was thought advisable to demoUsh the fragde
parts of Mrs. Lett's house- front without delay ; and, accordingly,
my lord, the high-sheriff, and theh friends forth'with commenced
theh laudable undertaking ; and stones being the weapons near
est at hand, the windows and the warbhng maid received a loyal
broadside. For this freak the Marquess, whose counsel I was,
was tried, convicted, and fined.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 171

LORD TYRAWLEY.
The first chief judge who favoured me with his intimacy was
Lord Clonmed, chief justice of the King's Bench. I was intro
duced to his Lordship's notice through Sir John Tydd, and
received from him many instances of kind attention ; and he
gave me, early in Ufe, some of the very best practical maxims.
As he was one of the celebrated official " fire-eaters," whom I
shaU hereafter mention, and fought several duels, it may be
amusmg to copy here, from my Historical Memoirs of Ireland, a
few distinguishing traits of his Lordship. "Mr. Scott never
omitted one favourable opportunity of serving himseK. His
skdl was unrivaUed, and his success proverbial. He was full of
anecdotes, though not the most refined ; these, in private society,
he not only told but acted ; and, when he perceived that he had
made a very good exhibition, he immediately withdrew, that he
might leave the most lively impression of his pleasantry behhid
him. His boldness was his first ihtroduction — his pohcy, his
ultimate preferment. Courageous, -vulgar, humorous, artificial,
he knew the world weU, and he profited by that knowledge.
He cultivated the powerful ; he bulUed the timid ; he fought
the brave ; he flattered the vain ; he duped the credulous ; and
he amused the convivial. HaK-hked, haK-reprobated, he was too
high to be despised, and too low to be respected. His language
was coarse, and his principles arbitrary ; but his passions were
his slaves, and his cunning was his instrument. In public and
in private he was the same character ; and, though a most fortu
nate man and a successful courtier, he had scarcely a sincere
friend or a disinterested adherent."
His duel with Lord Tyrawley was caused and attended by
circumstances which form a curious narrative. Lady Tyrawley

172 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
had an utter dislike for her husband, then the Honourable James
Cuffe. They had no chUdren, and she made various efforts to
induce him to consent to a distinct and total separation. There
being no substantial cause for such a measure, Mr. Cuffe looked
upon it as ridiculous, and would not consent. At length the
lady hit upon an excellent mode for carrying her wishes into
effect, and ensuring a separate maintenance.
One day, sobbing and crying, Mrs. Cuffe threw herseK before
her lord, on her knees — went through the usual evolutions of a
repentant female — and, at length, told her husband that she was
unworthy of his future protection. She was instantly put mto
a sedan-chair and ordered out of the house to private lodgings,
untd it was the wiU of her injured lord to send a deed of annuity
for her support.
Mr. Cuffe next summoned a friend, and informed him how the
viUain Scott had injured him, as Mrs. Cuffe confessed. A message
was sent, with an invitation to mortal combat, to the attorney-
general, urging the lady's confession, and the usual reproaches.
Mr. Scott, knowing that a declaration of innocence would, by
the world, be considered either as honourable perjury on his part,
to save Mrs. Cuffe's reputation, or as a mode of screening himself
from her husband's vengeance, and in no case be beheved even
by the good-natured part of society, made up his mind for the
worst. The husband and supposed gaUant accordingly met, and ex
changed shots : and each party having heard the bullets humanely
whiz past his ears, Mr. Scott assured his antagonist that he had
never -wronged him, and thought the lady must have lost her
reason. There was no cause for denying credence to this ; whilst, on
the other hand, h was but too likely that Mr. Cuffe had been
tricked by his wife. She was sure of a separation, for he had
turned her out : and, if he had faUen on the field of honour, she
had a noble jointure ; so that she was in utrumque parata—
secure under every chance.
On his return, he sent her a most severe reprhnand ; and

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 173
announced but a moderate annuity, which she instantly and
haughtily refused, positively declaring that she never had made
any confession of guUt ; that the whole was a scheme of his own
vicious jealousy, to get rid of her ; and that she had only said
he might just as weU suspect the attorney-general, who had never
said a civU thing to her, as anybody else. She dared him to
prove the least impropriety on her part ; and yet he had cruelly
turned her out of his house, and proclaimed his innocent wife to
be a guilty woman.
Mr Cuffe saw she had been too many for him, every way! he
durst not give more pubhcity to the affair ; and therefore agreed
to allow her a very handsome annuity, whereon she lived a happy
Ufe, and died but a few years since.
Immediately after I was married, I resided next door to Lord
ClonmeU, in Harcourt Street. He caUed on me most kindly,
and took me to walk over his fine gardens and lawn ; and was so
humorous and entertaining, that his condescension quite delighted
me ; but I afterwards found out, that he made a point of dis
covering every young man Ukely to succeed in public life, and
took the earUest moment possible of being so civd as to ensure a
friend, K not a partisan, and no man wanted the latter more than
his Lordship. " Barrington," said he to me, " you are married !"
" No doubt," said 1, laughingly, " as tight as any person on
the face of the earth."
" AU women in the world," repUed his Lordship, " are fond
of having theh own way."
" I am firmly of your opinion, my Lord," said I.
" Now," pursued he, " the manner in which aU wives are
spoded, is by gi'ving them their own way at first ; for whatever
you accustom them to at the beginning, they wiU expect ever
after : so, mind me ! I'U tell you the secret of ruhng a wife, if
kno"wn m time : ' Never do anything for peace-sake ;' — K you do,
you'U never have one hour's tranquUUty but by concession, —
mmd that !"
" I firmly beUeve it," exclaimed I.

174 barrington's personal sketches
" WeU," said he, "practise it !"
Some time after, I met his Lordship at Lamberton, Queen's
County, the seat of Sh John Tydd. He related the above story,
and asked me if I had taken his ad^vice. — " No," said I.
"Why?" inquired his Lordship.
" Because," repUed I, " a philosopher has an easier hfe of it
than a soldier."
I had the laugh against him, and the more particidarly as his
Lordship had married a second wKe, and I beheve no husband
in Ireland adliered less to his own maxim than did Lord ClonmeU
after that union.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 175

DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND MAEQUESS OF
LONDONDERRY.
My personal acquaintance -with the Duke of WeUington origi
nated accidentaUy, soon after I commenced public Ufe ; and so
clearly shows the versatiUty of men, the faUibility of judgment,
and the total uncertainty of aU human prediction, that I cannot
avoid mentiomng it.
In 1793, when I was in high repute, most prosperous at the
bar, h-ving in the first ranks of society, a distinguished favourite
at the viceregal court, and designated as a candidate for the first
offices of my profession, I occasionaUy gave large splendid din
ners, according to the habit invariably adopted in those times
by persons chcumstanced like myseK. At one of those enter
tainments. Major Hobart (Lord Buckinghamshire) ; Sir John
ParneU ; Isaac Corry ; I think. Lord Limerick ; Sh John (after
wards Lord) de Blacquiere ; and Lords Llandaff, DiUon, Yelver
ton ; the Speaker ; — in aU, upwards of twenty noblemen and
commoners, did me the honour of partaking my fare. Lord
ClonmeU sent me his two grand cooks, and a most cheerful party
was predicted. The House had sat late that day, and etiquette
never permitted us to go to dinner, where the Speaker was a guest,
untd his arrival, unless he had especiaUy deshed us to do so.
The Speaker did not join us tdl nine o'clock, when Sir John
PameU brought -with him, and introduced to me. Captain WeUes
ley and Mr. Stewart, two young members, who ha-ving remained
in the House, he had insisted on theh coming with him to my
dinner, where he told them good cheer and a hearty welcome
would be found ; and in this he was not mistaken.
Captain Arthur WeUesley had, in 1790, been retumed to
parUament for Trim, County Meath, a borough under the patron-

176 barrington's personal sketches
age of his brother, the Earl of Mornington. He was then ruddy-
faced and juvenile in appearance, aud popular enough among
the young men of his age and station. His address was un
polished ; he occasionally spoke in Parliament, but not success
fuUy, and never on important subjects ; and evinced no promise
of that unparaUeled celebrity and splendour which he has since
reached, and whereto intrepidity and decision, good luck and
gTcat military science, have justly combined to elevate him.
Lord Castlereagh was the son of Mr. Stewart, a country
gentleman, generaUy accounted to be a very clever man, in the
north of Ireland. He was a professed and not very moderate
patriot, and at one time carried his ideas of opposition exceed
ingly far, having become a leading member of the Reform and
Liberal societies.
Lord Castlereagh began his career in the Irish ParUament,
by a motion for a committee to inquire into the representation
of the people, -with the ulterior object of a reform in ParUament.
He made a good speech and had a majority in the House, which
he certainly did not expect, and I am sure did not wish for. He
was unequal and unwiUing to push that point to further trial ;
the matter cooled in a few days ; and after the next division,
was deserted entirely. Mr. Stewart, however, after that speech,
was considered as a very clever young man, and m ad points
weU taught and tutored by his father, whose marriage -with the
Marquess of Camden's sister was the remote cause of aU his
future successes — how sadly terminated !
At the period to which I aUude, I feel confident, nobody
could have predicted that one of those young gentlemen would
become the most celebrated English general of his era, and the
other, one of the most mischievous statesmen and unfortunate
ministers that ever appeared in modern Europe. However, it is
observable, that to the personal intimacy and reciprocal friend
ship of those two individuals, they mutuaUy owed the extent of
theh respective elevation and celebrity : Sh Arthur WeUesley
never would have had the chief command in Spain but for the
ministerial manoeu^vring and aid of Lord Castlereagh ; and Lord

of his own times. 177
Castlereagh never could have stood his ground as a ministei, but
for Lord WeUington's successes.
At my house, the evening passed amidst that glow of weU-
bred, ¦witty, and cordial vinous con^viviaUty, which was, I believe,
pecuUar to high society in Ireland.
From that night I became rather intimate with Captain
WeUesley and Mr. Stewart ; and perceived certain amiable quaU
ties in both, which a change of times, or the intoxication of pros
perity, certainly in some degree tended to diminish. Indeed, K
Lord WelUngton had continued untd now the same frank, open-
hearted man, he certainly must have been better proof against
those causes which usuaUy excite a metamorphosis of human
character than any one who had ever preceded him. Stdl, if
possible, he would have been a greater man ; at least he would
have better dra^wn the distinction between a warrior and a hero
— terms not altogether synonymous. Many years subsequently
to the dinner-party I have mentioned, I one day met Lord
Castlereagh in the Strand, and a gentleman ¦vsdth him. His
Lordship stopped me, whereat I was rather surprised, as we had
not met for some time ; he spoke very kindly, smded, and asked
if I had forgotten my old friend, Sir Arthur WeUesley ? — whom
I discovered in his companion ; but looking so saUow and wan,
and "with every mark of what is caUed a worn-out man, that I
was truly concerned at his appearance. He soon recovered his
health and looks, and went as the Duke of Richmond's secretary
to Ireland ; where he was in aU material traits stUl Sh Arthur
WeUesley ; but it was Sh Arthur WeUesley judiciously im
proved. He had not forgotten his friends, nor did he forget
himseK. He said that he had accepted the office of secretary
only on the terms that it should not impede or interfere with his
mihtary pursuits ; and what he said proved true, for he was
soon sent, as second in command, "with Lord Cathcart to Copen
hagen, to break through the law of nations, and execute the most
distinguished piece of treachery that history records.*
* This matter is not within the scope of my observations ; let the readers of
history or of Grotius settle for themselves.
vol. I. N

178 barrington's personal sketches
On Sir Arthur's return he recommenced his duty of secretary;
and during his residence in Ireland, in that capacity, I did not
hear one complaint agamst any part of his conduct either as a
pubhc or private man. He was afterwards appointed to com
mand in Spain ; an appotatment soUcited, and I beUeve expected,
by Sh John Doyle. It inight be entertaining to speculate on
the probable state of Europe at present, K Sh John had been
then appointed generahsshno. I do not mean to infer any dis
paragement to the talents of Sh John, but he might have
pursued a different course, not calculated, as in Sh Arthur's
mstance, to have decided, for the time bemg, the fate of Europe.
A few days before Sh Arthur's departure for Spain, I re
quested him to spend a day -with me, which he did The com
pany was not very large, but some of Sir Arthur's military friends
were among the party ; the late Sir Charles Asgdl, the present
General Meyrick, etc. etc. I never saw him more cheerful or
happy. The bombardment of Copenhagen bemg by chance
started as a topic of remark, I did not join in its praise ; but, on
the other hand, muttered that I never did nor should approve
of it. " Damn it, Barrington," said Sh Arthur, " why ? what do
you mean to say?" "I say, Sh Arthur," rephed I, "that it
was the very best devised, the very best executed, and the most
just and necessary 'robbery and murder' now on record!" He
laughed, and adjourned to the drawing-room, where Lady B. had
a bad and supper as a finish for the departing hero.
In 1815, having been shut up in Paris during the siege, I
went out to NeuUly to pay a ¦visit to the Duke before our troops
got into the city. I had not seen him since the last day he
dined at my o^wn house ; but he had intermediately much
changed. I knew his Grace when Captain WeUesley — Sh- Arthur Wel
lesley — Secretary WeUesley — Ambassador WeUesley — and Duke
of WeUington. In the first stage of this career, I was his equal ;
in the last, nobody is. However, it is a fine reflection for the
contemporaries of great people, that it wUl be " aU the same a

OF HIS OWN TIMES. l79
hundred years hence ! " and heroes, diplomatists,* etc., must
either become very good-tempered fedows when they meet in
the Elysian fields, or — there must be a very strong pohce to
keep them hi order.
I was present in one of the French chambers when the
question of capitulation was discussed ; and most undoubtedly
Marshal Ney supported that measure upon the basis of a
general amnesty. On any other, it never would have been
hstened to ; the battle woidd have taken place early next morn-
hig ; and the Duke of Wellington would have had to contest
the most sanguinary and desperate engagement of his day with
a numerous and weU-appointed army, frantic with zeal to re
venge theh disgrace at Waterloo. This I know ; for I was
(truly agamst the grain) kept more than twelve hours in the
midst of it at Vdette, two days before the capitulation. Of this,
more ¦wiU be seen in the last volume. I cannot but remark,
that K Ney had been pardoned, and the horses not sent to
Venice, the sphit of the capitulation would have been more
strictly adhered to.
I must be rightly understood respecting Lord Londonderry,
to whom, individuaUy, I never had the slightest objection. As
a private gentleman, I always found him friendly, though cold ;
* The foUowing unpublished lines, by one of the most talented young ladies
I ever met, depict the frivolity and short-lived nature of human vanities more
forcibly than a hundred sermons : —
" The kingdoms of the world have pass'd away.
And its strong empu-es moulder'd into dust.
Swift as the changes of a poet's dream :
And kings and heroes, and the mighty minds
Whose hopes circled eternity, and seized
The stars as their inheritance, and grew
Too big for mortal frames — until they sank
Into the narrow bounds of nature : —
These are the things which, even nameless now,
Are on the earth forgot — or, if retain'd.
Of power, of life, and motion all herefti"— {Author's note.)
As the admirers of poetry wiU discover enough sublimity in this to condone
for the misplaced accent, I cannot reject it.

180 barrington's personal sketches
and fair, though ambiguous.'" I never knew him break his
word, and beheve him to have been perfectly honourable upon
every subject of private interest. But here my eulogy must
close ; for, with regard to pubUc character, his Lordship must, I
fear, be pronounced corrupt. When determined on a point,
nothing could stop him. In Ireland, his career was distmguished
by public bribery and palpable misrepresentations ; of which
assertion, had I not indisputable and ample proof, I would not
hazard it.
Mr. Pelham, now Earl of Chichester, was secretary to Lord
Camden when Lord Lieutenant. I had the good fortune and
pleasure to be on very friendly terms ¦with this amiable and en
gaging gentleman, and have seldom met any pubhc personage I
Uked so weU. I found him moderate, honourable, sufficiently
firm and sufficiently spirited ; and had a real gratffication ia
attaching myseK not only to his measures, but to his society.
In aU our intercom-se, which ceased ¦with his departure, I found
him candid and just, aud experienced at his hands several pubhc
acts of kindness.
Mr. Pelham's parUamentary talents were not of a splendid
order. The people of Ireland never required stars for ministers ;
but a fair and candid secretary was a great treat to them, and
Mr. Pelham was making fuU way in public estimation. The
last day I ever saw him in Ireland, he and his brother-m-law.
Lord Sheffield, did me the favour of dining ¦with me in Merrion
Square. I perceived he was uncommonly duU, and regretted
the chcumstance much ; he ob^viously grew worse, at length laid
his head upon the table, and when he departed was extremely
UI. Next day he was in a -violent fever, his Ufe was long
despahed of, he recovered with difficulty, and, on his recovery,
returned to England. Mr. Stewart, by marriage the Lord Lieu
tenant's nephew, was named as locum tenens during Mr. Pelham's
absence ; or, should he not return, untU the appoiatment of
another secretary. But he was soon discovered by his employers
to be fit for any business ; and as it had been long in the secret
* This slips through my meshes.

OF his own times. 181
contemplation of the British ministry to extinguish the Irish
ParUament, either by fraud or force ; and Lord Camden being
considered too inactive, perhaps too conscientious and honour
able, to resort to either of those weapons, it was determined to
send over an old servant-of-aU-work. This person. Lord Corn
wallis, with the assistance of his young secretary, would stop at
nothing necessary to effect the purpose, and they could, between
them, carry a measure which few other persons, at that period,
durst have attempted.
These fragments are not intended as poUtical episodes. The
result of that coaUtion everybody knows. I shaU only state so
much of the transaction as relates to my own individual con
cerns. I had an inter-view with Lord Castlereagh, some time
after he came into office, at Mr. Cooke's chambers. He told me
he understood I expected to be the next solicitor-general, and
had appUed for the office. I answered, that I not only expected
as much, but considered myself, under aU circumstances, entitled
to that preferment. He and Mr. Cooke both said, " Yes ;" and
recommended me to make " my party good -with Lord Clare,"
who had expressed "no indisposition" to the appointment.
Had I not been supposed to be of some use to the government,
I do not doubt but Lord Clare would have preferred many other
more subservient gentry of my profession. But he knew that
although Lord Westmorland, on lea-ving Ireland, had made no
express stipulation, he had subsequently gone as far as he could
¦with Lord Camden, for my promotion. Lord Clare played me
off cleverly untd, in the month of August 1799, I was sent for
in private by the secretary, Edward Cooke, who had been a
particular confidential friend of mine for several years. Having
first enjoined secrecy as to our conference, he told me that a
measure of great import had been under consideration in the
Enghsh Cabinet, and might possibly be acted on ; and then
proceeding to acquaint me that Lord Clare had made no ob
jection to my promotion, he asked in so many words if I would
support the " question of ' a union,' K it should be brought
forward ?" I was struck as if by a shot ! I had no idea of such

182 barrington's personal sketches
a thing being now seriously contemplated, although I had often
heard of it as a measure suggested in 1763. My mind had
never any doubts upon the degradtag subject, aU thoughts
whereof had been considered as banished for ever by the volun
teers of 1782. I therefore repUed at once, "No, never!" —
"You'U think better of it, Barrington!" said he. "Never,
by — I " rejoined I ; " never ! " and the discussion was dropped,
nor did I confide it to any save one indi-vidual, who differed
with me very much, at least as to the mode of refusal.
I was determined, however, to know how the matter reaUy
stood ; and -without touchmg on the late conversation, desired to
be apprised whether they preserved the intention of appointing
me soUcitor-generaL I received no other answer than the foUow
ing letter from Lord Castlereagh, without any explanation ; but
it was enveloped in a very long one from Mr. Cooke, headed,
" strictly private ;" and therefore of course stdl remaining so.
September 7, 1799.
"My dear Sir — I am dhected by his exceUency the Lord
Lieutenant to assure you, that he would be glad to avaU himself
of any proper opportunity of complying -with your wishes ; and
that he regrets much he is at present so particularly chcum
stanced, "with respect to the office of soUcitor-general, that he
feels it impossible to gratify your desire as to that appomtment
I should, myself, have been very happy had I been able to com
municate to you a more favourable result. — Dear sh, yours very
sincerely. Castlereagh."
I never had anything more to do -with the successive govern
ments of Ireland, and have used aU forbearance m gi'ving my
opinion of Irish Lord ChanceUors, except Mr. Ponsonby, whom
nobody ever heard me praise as a very great lawyer, but whom
everybody has heard me term a just judge, and an honest friendly
man. Of Lord Camden, I believe, there was no second opinion in
¦"¦ Lord Castlereagh's letter to me put, in fact, a civil end to my dreams of
promotion. — {Author's note.)

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 183
the circle wherein I moved. A better man could not be ; but
instead of governing he was governed ; and mtimately acquaiated
as I was with every procedure and measure durmg his adminis
toation in Ireland, I do most fuUy acquit him, indi-viduaUy, of
the outoageous, impoUtic, and Ul-judged measures which distin
guished his rule. As to Lord Clare, he was despotic, and the
greatest enemy Ireland ever had. His father had been a Roman
CathoUc, and intended for a priest, but changed his tenets,
became a barrister of great and just celebrity, and left many
chUdren. Lord Clare was latterly my most inveterate enemy. The
cause shaU be no secret. It arose from a -vicious Uttleness of
mind scarcely credible ; and proves to me that implacabiUty of
temper never exists -without its attendant faults ; and although
it maybe deprecated by cringing, is seldom influenced by feelings
of generosity.* * Dr. Hill of Harcourt Street, who was Regius Professor of Medicine, T.O.D. ,
for more than half-a-century, said of Clare, — "I watched Fitzgibbon's conduct
for years, in court and out of it, to friends and foes, to sycophants and expectants,
and came to a clear conclusion, that he hated, and strove to hurt, any man who
had any preteiLsions to honesty or ability."

184 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES

LORD NORBURY.
Lord Norbury, then Mr. Toler, went chcuit as judge the first
circuit I went as barrister. He continued my friend as warmly
as he possibly could be the friend of any one, and I thought he
was in earnest. One evening, however, coming hot from Lord
Clare's, at that time my proclaimed enemy, he attacked me -with
an after-dinner volubdity which hurt and roused me very much.
I kept indifferent bounds myseK ; but he was generaUy so very
good-tempered, that I ready felt a repugnance to indulgmg hhn
¦with as tart a reply as a stranger would have received, and
simply observed, that " I should only just give him that character
which developed itseK by his versatiUty — ^namely, that he had a
hand for every man, and a heart for nobody .'" — and I beheve the
sarcasm has stuck to him from that day to this. He returned a
very warm answer, gave me a wink, and made his exit. Of
course I foUowed. The serjeant-at-arms was instantly sent by
the Speaker to pursue us with his attendants, and to brmg both
refractory members back to the House. Toler was caught by
the skirts of his coat fastening in a door ; and they laid hold of
him just as the skhts were torn completely off. I was overtaken
in Nassau Street ; and, as I resisted, was brought, like a sack,
on a man's shoulders, to the admhation of the mob, and thrown
down* in the body of the House. The Speaker told us we must
give our honours forthwith that the matter should proceed no
further. Toler got up to defend himself ; but as he then had no
skirts to his coat, made a most ludicrous figure ; and Curran put
a finishing-stroke to the comicality of the scene, by gravely
saying, that " it was the most unparaUeled insult ever offered to
* Here is a morceau, racy of the soil, that must be palatable to the most fasti
dious Englishman.

OF HIS O^WN TIMES. 185
the House ; as it appeared that one honourable member had
trimmed another honourable member's jacket within these wads,
and nearly within ¦view of the Speaker!" A general roar of
laughter ensued. I gave my honour as requhed — I think with
more good-wdl than Toler ; and would wUlingly have forgotten
the affair altogether, which he apparently never did.
Lord Norbury had more readiness of repartee than any man
I ever knew who possessed neither classical ¦wit nor genuine
sentiment to make it valuable. But he had a fling at everything ;
and, faiUng in one attempt, made another — sure of carrying his
pomt before he relinquished his efforts. His extreme good
temper was a great advantage. The present Lord Redesdale was
much, though unintentionaUy, annoyed by Mr. Toler, at one of
the first dinners he gave, as Lord ChanceUor of Ireland, to the
judges and King's Counsel. Ha^ving heard that the members of
the Irish Bar, of whom he was then quite ignorant, were con
sidered extremely witty, and being desirous, K possible, to adapt
himseK to theh habits, his Lordship had obviously got together
some of his best Bar-remarks, for of wit he was totaUy gudtless
if not mapprehensive, to repeat to his company as occasion
inight offer, and K he could not be humorous, determined at least
to be entertaining.
The first of his Lordship's observations after dinner was the
teUing us that he had been a Welsh judge, and had found great
difficulty in pronouncing the double consonants which occur in
the Welsh proper names. " After much trial," continued his
Lordship, " I found that the difficulty was mastered by moving
the tongue alternately from one dog-tooth to the other."
Toler seemed quite deUghted with this discovery ; and re
quested to know his lordship's dentist, as he had lost one of his
dog-teeth, and would immediately get another in place of it.
/This went off flatly enough — no laugh being gained on either
side. Lord Redesdale's next remark was, that when he was a lad,
cock-fighting was the fashion ; and that both ladies and gentle
men went fuU-dressed to the cock-pit, the ladies being in hoops.

186 barrington's personal sketches
" I see now, my Lord," said Toler, " it was then that the
term cock-a-hoop was invented."
A general laugh now burst forth, which rather discomposed
the learned ChanceUor. He sat for awhUe sdent ; untd skating
became a subject of conversation, when his Lordship raUied —
and with an ah of triumph said, that in his boyhood aU danger
was avoided ; for, before they began to skate they always put
blo^wn bladders under theh arms ; and so, K the ice happened to
break, they were buoyant and saved.
"Ay, my Lord !" said Toler, " that's what we caU blatheram-
skate in Ireland."*
Having faded ¦with Toler, the ChanceUor now addressed
himseK to Mr. Garrat O'Farred, a jody Irish barrister, who al
ways carried a parcel of coarse national humour about ¦with him ;
a broad, squat, ruddy-faced feUow, ¦with a great aquiUne nose
and a humorous eye. Independent in mind and property, he
generaUy said whatever came uppermost. " Mr. Garrat O'Far
red," said the ChanceUor solemnly, " I beUeve your name and
famdy were very respectable and numerous in County Wicklow.
I thiak I was introduced to several of them during my late tour
there." "Yes, my Lord!" said O'Farred, "we xvere very numerous;
but so many of us have been lately hanged for sheep-steaUng,
that the name is getting rather scarce in that county."
His Lordship said no more ; and, so far as respect for a new
chancedor adndtted, we got into our O'wn hue of conversation,
without his assistance. His Lordship, by degrees, began to
understand some jokes a few minutes after they were uttered.
An occasional smde discovered his enUghtenment ; and, at the
breaking up, I really think his impression was, that we were a
pleasant, though not very comprehensible race.f
I never saw Lord Redesdale more puzzled than at one of
¦• Nonsense; the word is used, or was, in Scotland. It is not Ukely that those
dull jokes were fired off at the Chancellor's table. Toler, indeed, perpetrated
many things as stupid, and so did Whatelcy ; and such things pass for wit, but
the train here seems to have been laid by our author.
t No wonder, if all this be true.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 187
Plunket's best jeux d'esprits. A cause was argued in Chancery,
wherein the plaintiff prayed that the defendant should be re
strained fe'om suing him on certain bdls of exchange, as they
were nothing but kites. — "Kites?" exclaimed Lord Redesdale :
" Kites, Mr. Plunket ? Kites never could amount to the value
of those securities ! I don't understand this statement at ad,
Mr. Plunket."
"It is not to be expected that you should, my Lord?"
answered Plunket : " In England and in Ireland kites are quite
different things. In England the wind raises the kites, but in
Ireland the kites raise the wind."
" I do not feel any way better informed yet, Mr. Plunket,"
said the matter-of-fact chanceUor.
" WeU, my Lord, I'll explain the thing without mentioning
those bhds of prey :" and there^with he elucidated the difficulty.
Lord Redesdale never could pronounce the name of Mr. Col
clough,* a suitor in the Chancery court. It was extremely
amusing to hear how he laboured to get it off his tongue, but
quite in vain ! CaUcloff was his nearest effort. I often ¦wished
I could recommend him to try his dog-teeth.
On the discussion of the CathoUc bUl, in 1792, Lord West
morland, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, did not approve of
the precipitate measures wished for by his secretary. Major
Hobart, afterwards Earl of Buckinghamshhe. I had the honour
of distinctly kno-wing the sentiments of both, and clearly saw
the shades of difference which existed between them, but which,
of course, I did not presume to notice. I felt con-vinced that
both were my friends, and was deshous, K possible, to run
counter to neither.
I never had disputed the political right of the Cathohcs
theoretically ; but I had been bred up amongst WUUamites, and
had imbibed, without very weU understanding theh bearmg,
strong Protestant principles ; and hence I deemed it wisest
neither to speak nor vote upon the subject at that period.
The Irish Catholics had conceived a wonderfuUy high opinion
• Pronounced Cokeley.

188 BARRINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
of Mr. Edmund Burke's assistance and abdities. Because he
was a clever man himseK, they conceived his son must needs be
so too ; and a deputation was sent over to induce young Mr.
Burke to come to Ireland, for the purpose of superintending the
progress of their bdls of Emancipation in the Irish ParUament ;
and, to bear his expenses, a sum of £2000 was voted.* Mr.
Keogh of DubUn, a very sensible man, who had retired from
trade, was extremely active upon this occasion.
The bdls were introduced aud resisted : a petition had been
prepared by Burke ; and, bemg considered neither weU-timed
nor weU-worded, certain even of the warmest supporters of the
Catholics decUned to present it.
Young Burke, either totaUy ignorant of parUamentary rules,
or supposing that in a disturbed country like Ireland they
would be dispensed with, especiaUy in favour of a son of the
great Burke, determined he would present the petition himseK ;
— not at the bar, but in the body of the House ! Accordmgly,
he descended from the gaUery, walked into the House -with a
long rod of parchment under his arm, and had arrived near the
Treasury-bench when a general cry of " Pri-vdege — ^A stranger in
the House !" arose from aU quarters, and checked the progress
of the intruder ; but when the Speaker, in his loud and dignffied
tone, caUed out "Serjeants-at-arms, do your duty!" it seemed to
echo Uke thunder in Burke's ears ; he felt the awkwardness of
his situation, and ran towards the bar. Here he was met by the
serjeant-at-arms with a drawn sword. Retracing his steps, he
was stopped by the clerk ; and the serjeant gaining on hhn, -with
a feeUng of trepidation he commenced actual fiight. The door
keepers at the corridor now joined in pursuit ; but at length,
after an excellent chase, he forced through the enemy behmd
the Speaker's chair and escaped ! Strong measures were imme
diately proposed : messengers despatched in aU quarters to
arrest him : very few knew who he was ; when Lord Norbury
(with that -vivacious promptness which he always possessed), on
its being observed that no such transaction had ever occurred
• By an association of Catholic and Liberal gentlemen.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 189
before, exclaimed, "I found the very same incident some few
days back in the cross-readings of the columns of a newspaper.
' Yesterday a petition was presented to the House of Commons
— it fortunately missed fire, and the vdlain ran off.' " This
saUy put the House in a moment mto good humour ; and Burke
was aUowed to return to England unmolested.
I read some time back, in the English newspapers, an anec
dote of Lord Norbury^s having appeared on the bench in a
masquerade dress. As I was myseK present at that occurrence,
it is only just to his Lordship to state the facts, whence it wdl
appear that it was totaUy a mistake — so much so, mdeed, that
his Lordship did not seem to be conscious of his habiliments
even whilst every person in court was staring with astonish
ment. Some time previously Lady Castlereagh had given a very
splendid masquerade, at which I saw the chief justice in the
dress and character of Hawthorn, in " Love in a Vdlage," and
wed did he enact that part. The dress was a green tabinet, with
mother-of-pearl buttons, striped yeUow-and-black waistcoat, and
buff breeches ; and was altogether cool and Ught.
On going the next chcuit, the weather being excessively
sultoy, and his Lordship having a great press of sentences to
pass on rebels, etc., at Carlow, he put on, under his robes, Haw
thorn's costume, as the Ughtest vestments in his Lordship's
wardrobe. The warmth of the day, however, might be expected to take
away a certain quantity of any man's precaution ; and Norbury,
feeUng the heat insufferable, iavoluntarUy first tumed up the
sleeves of his robe, then loosened the zone round his waist : the
robe, beiag now free from aU restraint, thought it had a right to
steal away from the green jacket ; and thus the unconscious
chief justice " stood confessed" to the auditory m the court
house as the representative of a very different character from
that of a judge !

190 barrington's PEESONAL SKETCHES

HENRY GRATTAN.
Many anecdotes occur to me of my late respected friend, Mr.
Grattan. There are but few, however, which can throw fresh
Ught upon a character so long and so generaUy known, and
which exhibited unvarying exceUence.
I never met any man who possessed the genuine elements of
courage in a higher degree than Mr. Grattan ; in whom dwelt
a sphit of mdd, yet impetuous bravery, which totaUy banished
aU apprehensions of danger.
I have aheady given some account of my contest for Dublin
City, and of the chcumstances connecting my dlustrious friend
there-with. On the evening of the first day of poding, whilst I
sat at dinner, a servant announced that a gentleman in a sedan-
chah was at the door and wished to speak to me. I imme
diately went out, and findmg it was Grattan, begged him to
enter the house ; upon which he deshed his chah to be taken
into the had. His manner was so agitated and mysterious, that
I felt quite alarmed, and feared something untoward had hap
pened to him. We went into a parlour, where, -without any
introductory observation, he exclaimed : " Barrington, I must
have a shot at that rascal !"
" Heavens !" said I, " what rascal !"
" There is but one such in the world ! " cried he : " that
Giffard!" " My dear Grattan," I replied, " you cannot be serious :
there is no ground for a challenge on your part ; your language
to him was such as never before was used to human creature ;
and if he survives your words, no bidlet would have effect upon
him." "Ah, that won't do, Barrington!" exclaimed Grattan : "he

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 191
objected to my vothig for you, because, he said, I was a ' dis
carded corporator.'"
" That was not intended as personal," said I ; " and even had
he gained his point, would it not be an honour for you to be re
moved from such a corporation?"
"Barrmgton," rejoined he, "it's of no use! I must have a
shot at the feUow : I can't sleep unless you go to bim for me."
This I peremptordy refused, arguing and reasoning -with him
agam and agahi. He stdl conthiued obstiaate, and I begged bim
to go and ask the ad-vice of Mr. George Ponsonby.
" Oh no," repUed he ; " Ponsonby is a vrise man, ¦wiser than
either of us ; in fact, he is sometimes too wise and too peaceable.
You must go to Giffard ; perhaps it may not be wise, but I know
you prefer your friend's honour to your friend's safety. Come
now, get your hat, Barrington !"
Upwards of an hour elapsed before I could even haK convince
him that he was ¦wrong ; but at length, by the only argument
that could make any impression on him, I extoacted a promise
that he would let the affah drop. " Grattan," said I, " recoUect
matters, and have consideration for me." He started : — " Yes,''
continued I, " you know it was solely on my account that you
exposed yourseK to any insult ; and do you think I could remain
an idle spectator, in a conflict whereof I was the cause ? If you
do not promise me that you ¦wdl go ' no further in this business,'
I shaU instantly make the thing personal ¦with Giffard myseK."
For a moment he was sdent, then smiling — " Coriolanus,"
said he, " repUed to his noble parent — ' Mother ! you have con
quered !' — I will go no further."
" I humbly thank you," said I, " for making an old woman
of me." He then went away, as I conceived, satisfied. He had
come thus privately (for the curtains were drawn round his
chah), to avoid suspicion being excited of his intentions, and the
authorities consequently interfering to prevent the combat. My
surprise may be imagmed, when, at sis o'clock the next mornmg,
I was roused by the same announcement of a gentleman in a chair.
I knew it must be Grattan, and directed him to be brought in.

192 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
I had now the same game to play over agam. He said he
had not slept a wink ad night, from thinking about "that
rascal ;" and that he " must have a shot at hhn." Another
course now suggested itself to me, and I told him I had, on con
sideration, determined, whether ¦wright or -wrong, that, K he per
severed, I would wait upon the sheriff and get him bound over to
keep the peace. He was not pleased at this, but had no option;
and ultimately we both agreed not to re-vive the subject during
the election.
Mr. Egan, one of the roughest-looking persons possible, being
at one time a supporter of government, made virulent phihppics,
in the Irish House of Commons, against the French Revolution.
His figure was coarse and bloated, and his dress not over-elegant
withal ; in fact, he had by no means the look of a member of
parUament. One evenmg this man feU foul of a speech of Grattan's ; and
amongst other absurdities, said in his paroxysm, that the right
honourable gentleman's speech had a tendency to introduce the
gudlotine into the very body of the House : indeed, he almost
thought he could already perceive it before him. " Hear him !
Hear him " ! shouted Sir Boyle Eoche. Grattan good-humouredly
repUed, that the honourable member must have a vastly sharper
sight than he had. He certamly could see no such thing : "but
though," added Grattan, looking with his glass toward Egan, " I
may not see the guiUotine, yet methinks I can perceive the
executioner." *
Colonel Burr, who had been vice-president of America, and
probably would have been the next president, but for his unfor
tunate duel with General Hamilton, came over to England, and
was made known to me by Mr. Randolph of South Carohna
(with whom I was very intimate). He requested I would mtro-
duce him to Mr. Grattan, whom he was excessively anxious to
see. Colonel Burr was not a man of a very prepossessing ap
pearance, — rough-featured and neither dressy nor poUshed ; but
* Lady Morgan's version is better : " I don't see the knife, but I do the
butcher."

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 193
a weU-informed, sensible man ; and though not a particularly
agreeable, yet an instructive companion.
People in general form extravagant anticipations regarding
emment persons. The idea of a great orator and Irish chief car
ried ¦with it, naturaUy enough, corresponding notions of physical
elegance, ¦vigour, and dignity. Such was Colonel Burr's mistake
as to Mr. Grattan, and I took care not to undeceive him.
We went to my friend's house, who was to leave London
next day. I announced that Colonel Burr from America, Mr.
Randolph, and myself wished to pay our respects. The servant
informed us that his master would receive us in a short time, but
was at the moment occupied on business of consequence. Burr's
expectations were aU on the alert ! Eandolph also was anxious
to be presented to the great Grattan, and both impatient for the
entrance of this Demosthenes. At length the door opened, and
in hopped a smaU bent figure, meagre, yeUow, and ordinary ; one
sUpper and one shoe ; his breeches' knees loose ; his cravat
hangmg do^wn ; his shht and coat-sleeves tucked up high, and
an old hat upon his head.
This apparition saluted the strangers very courteously : asked,
without any introduction, how long they had been in England,
and immediately proceeded to make inquiries about the late
General Washington and the revolutionary war. My companions
looked at each other ; their replies were costive, and they seemed
quite impatient to see Mr. Grattan. I could scarcely contain
myseK ; but determined to let my eccentric countryman take his
course. Eandolph was far the taUest, and most dignified-looking
man of the two,* grey-hahed and weU-dressed : Grattan therefore,
of course, took him for the vice-president, and addressed him
accordmgly. Eandolph at length begged to know K they could
shortly have the honour of seeing Mr. Grattan ; upon which,
our host, not doubting but they knew him, conceived it must be
his son James for whom they inquhed, and said, he beUeved he
had that moment wandered out somewhere, to amuse hhnseK.
* Against this on the margin. Captain Dalkeith Holmes, a friend of Sir Jonah's,
pencUled " Comparisons are odious !" Short and sweet.
VOL. I. 0

194 BARRINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
This completely disconcerted the Americans, and they were
about to make theh bow and theh exit, when I thought it high
tim p. to explain ; and, taking Colonel Burr and Mr. Eandolph
respectively by the hand, introduced them to the Eight Honour
able Henry Grattan.
I never saw people stare so, or so much embarrassed ! Grattan
himself, now perceiving the cause, heartdy joined in my merri
ment ; he pulled down his shirt-sleeves, puded up his stockings ;
and, in his own irresistible way, apologised for the outre figure
he cut, assuring them he had totaUy overlooked it iu his anxiety
not to keep them waiting ; that he was returning to Ireland next
morning, and had been busily packing up his books and papers
in a closet fuU of dust and cobwebs ! This incident rendered the
interview more interestmg : the Americans were charmed -with
theh reception ; and, after a protracted visit, rethed highly gra
tffied, whdst Grattan retuimed agam to his books and cobwebs.
Nobody lamented more than myseK the loss of this distta-
guished man and true patriot, who, as every one knows, breathed
his last in the British metropoUs after a long and painful Ulness ;
and the public papers soon after announced, to my astonishment
and chagrm, the fact of preparations bemg on foot for his inter
ment in Westminster Abbey ! I say, to my astonishment and
chagria ; because it was sufficiently plain that this affected mark
of respect was only meant to restrain the honest enthusiasm which
might have attended his funeral obsequies in his o-wn country.
The subtle minister then ruling the councils of Britain kaew
fuU weU that vanity is the falsest guide of human judgment, and
therefore held out that Westminster Abbey (of ministers, and
admhals, and poets), was the most honourable restiag-place for
the remahis of an Irish patriot, and a humble gravestone most
congenial to Grattan's unassuming nature. This lure was suc
cessful ; aud, accordingly, he who had made British ministers -
tremble in the cabinet — whose forbearance they had propitiated
by a tender of the king's best palace in Ireland- — whose fame
they had, nevertheless, endeavoured to destroy, and whose prin
ciples they had calumniated, — was escorted to the grave by the

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 195
most decided of his enemies, and mhumed amongst the inveterate
foes of Ireland and of Grattan ! It is mean to say that Lord
Castlereagh had latterly changed his opinion, and become civil to
his iUustrious opponent : so much the worse ! he thereby con
fessed that, in 1797, and the two foUowing years, he had laboured
to destroy an innocent man and to disgrace an Irish patriot, who,
during a great portion of that period, lay on the bed of sick
ness. The Duke of Leinster, doubtless with the best pos
sible motives, but with a view of the subject differmg from my
own, suggested that Ireland should do honour to her patriot son
by erecting a cenotaph to his memory. This, I must confess,
appears to me to be nothing more than cold-blooded mockery — a
compliment- diminutive and empty. Towards such a monument
I would not subscribe one farthing ; but if the revered ashes of
my friend could be restored to his country, and enshrined beneath
the sky of gi'een Erin, there is no Irishman who, in proportion
to his means, should go beyond myseK in contributing to uplift
a monumental column which should outvie the pdlars dedicated
in Dublin to the glorious butcheries of Trafalgar and Waterloo :
whilst these are proudly commemorated, no national pde records
the more touly glorious triumphs of 1782 — nor the formation of
that irresistible army of volunteers which (in a right cause)
defied ad the power of England ! But my voice shad not be
sdent ; and deeply do I regret the untoward fate by which this
just toibute to national and mdividual vhtues has devolved upon
the feeble powers of an almost superannuated writer.
Ireland gave me bhth and bread ; and though I am disgusted
¦with its present state, I love the country stiU. I have endea
voured to give (in a more important work) some sketches of its
modem history at the most prosperous epochas, together with
many gloomy anecdotes of its fad, and annihUation as an inde
pendent kingdom ; and if God grants me a Uttle longer space, I
shaU leave behind my honest ideas of its existing condition, and
of the ruin to which the British Empfre wdl not long remam
bUnd, if she continue to pursue the same system in that mis
governed country.

196 barrington's personal sketches
Extract of a letter from Sh Jonah Barrington to the present
Henry Grattan, Esq., M.P. : —
" My dear Grattan — I regret your not receiving my letter,
-written immediately after the lamented departure of my honoured
friend. In that letter I proposed forthwith to publish the sequel
of my character of Mr. Grattan, accompanied with his portrait
and some additional observations. I had composed the sequel,
much to my own satisfaction, as the contmuation of his character
promised in the number of my historical work where I say ' his
career is not yet finished'
" Having received no reply to that letter, I threw the manu
script into the fire, keeping no copy ; it was scarcely consumed,
however, before I repented of having done so.
" And now permit an old and sensitive friend to expostulate
a Uttle with you, in the simple garb of queries : —
" Why, and for what good reason, — with what pohcy, or on
what feeUng, are the bones of the most iUustrious of Irishmen
suffered to moulder in the same ground with his country's
enemies ?
" Why suffer him to be escorted to the grave by the mock
pageantry of those whose vices and corruptions ravished from
Ireland everything which his talent and integrity had obtained
for her ?
" Why send his countrymen on a foreign pdgrimage, to wor
ship the shrine of their canonised benefactor? Were not the
cathedrals of Ireland worthy to be honoured by his urn, — or
the youths of Erin to be animated by knowing that they pos
sessed his ashes ? Can it be gratKying to the feeUngs of his
countrymen to pay the sexton of a British abbey a mercenary
shdling for permission even to see the gravestone of your
parent ?*
" You were deceived by the blandishments of our mortal
¦* I was myself once refused even admittance into Westminster Abbey, wherein
his ashes rest ! — the sexton affirming that the proper hour was past ! — {Aufhor's
note. )

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 197
enemy : he knew that poUtical idolatry has great power, and
excites great influence in nations. The shrine of a patriot has
often proved to be the standard of Uberty ; and it was therefore
good poUcy in a British statesman to suppress our excitements : —
the bust of Eousseau is immortalised on the Continent — the tra
dition of Grattan only wiU remain to his compatriots.
"He Uved the Ufe — he died the death — but he does not
sleep in the tomb, of an Irish patriot ! England has taken away
our constitution, and even the rehcs of its founder are retained
through the dupUcity of his enemy.
" You have now my sentiments on the matter, and by frankly
expressmg them I have done my duty to you, to myseK, and
my country.* " Your ever affectionate and sincere friend,
" Jonah Barrington. "
* Henry Grattan was bom in Dublin on July 3, 1746 ; studied in Trinity Col
lege ; was called to the Irish bar in 1772 ; entered parUament in 1775 ; died in
London in 1820, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. For his great public
services in procuring from the English crown and government the recognition of
the absolute independence of the king, lords, and commons of Ireland, Mr.
Bagenal Harvey proposed a national reward. The sum first named was £100,000,
but Mr. Grattan would accept only of the moiety. In thc Royal Exchange,
Dublin, there is a fine statue of this illustrious statesman, with the neat inscrip
tion, "FUio Optimo Carissimo Patria Non Ingrata.'' A long-smouldering -wish
for a suitable public monument has been invigorated with the breath of life by
Mr. A. M. SuUivan, of the Nation newspaper, who, with the approbation of all
parties, devoted a gift of £700, made him by his admirers, to initiate a subscrip
tion for a memorial worthy of Grattan's genius, virtues, and deeds.
Marlay was his mother's name. She was daughter of the Bishop of Waterford,
whose father was Tliomas Marlay, chief-justice of Ireland. Grattan's father was
a lawyer, recorder of Dublin, and a member of the Irish commons. His great
grandfather, Patrick Grattan, was a senior fellow of T. C. D.
Five years after the act of union he entered the Imperial parUament as repre
sentative of the borough of Malton, but was returned for Dublin in 1806. The
son to whom the above was addressed is some years dead. In his politics and in
corruptible principles he followed in the footsteps of his iUustrious father.

198 barrington's personal sketches

HIGH LIFE IN NEWGATE.
Lord Aldborough was an arrogant and ostentatious man ; but
these faiUngs were nearly redeemed by his firmness and gadantry
in his memorable coUision with Lord ChanceUor Clare.
Lord Aldborough, who had budt a most tasteful and hand
some house* immediately at the northem extoemity of Dubhn,
had an equity suit -with Mr. Beresford, a nephew of Lord Clare,
as to certain lots of ground close to his Lordship's new mansion,
which, among other conveniences, had a chapel on one -wing and
a theatre on the other, stretching away from the centre in a
chaste style of ornamental architecture
The cause was in Chancery, and was not protracted very
long. Lord Aldborough was defeated with fuU costs : his pride,
his purse, and his mansion, must aU suffer, and meddling -with
either of these was sufficient to rouse his Lordship's spleen He
appealed, therefore, to the House of Peers, where, m due season,
the cause came on for hearing, and where the ChanceUor hiniseh
presided. The lay lords did not much care to mterfere in the
matter ; and, "without loss of time. Lord Clare of the House of
Peers confirmed the decree of Lord Clare of the Court of Chan
cery, -with fuU costs against the appeUant.
Lord Aldborough had now no redress but to -write at the
Lord ChanceUor ; and without delay he fed to composing a book
against Lord Clare and the system of appeUant jurisdiction,
stating that it was totaUy an abuse of justice to be obUged to
appeal to a prejudiced man against his own prejudices, and par
ticularly so in the present instance. Lord Clare being notorious
as an unforgivmg ChanceUor to those who vexed him, and no
¦* Now known as Aldborough Barracks, and pre-viously as the FeinagUan Insti
tution — a proprietary school for the education of young gentiemen.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 199
Lords attending to hear the cause, or if they did, not being much
¦wiser for the hearing — it being the province of a counsel to
puzzle not to inform noblemen.
Lord Aldborough, in his book, humorously enough stated an
occurrence that had happened to himself when travelUng in
HoUand. His Lordship was going to Amsterdam on one of the
canals in a trekschuit — the captain or skipper of which, being a
great rogue, extorted from his Lordship, for his passage, much
more than he had a lawful right to claim. My Lord expostu
lated with the skipper in vain : the fedow grew rude ; his
Lordship persisted ; the skipper got more abusive. At length
Lord Aldborough told him he would, on landing, immediately
go to the proper tribunals and get redress from the judge. The
skipper cursed him as an impudent milord, and desired him to
do his worst, snapping his tarry fingers in his Lordship's face.
Lord Aldborough paid the demand, and, on landing, went to the
legal officer to know when the court of justice would sit. Pie
was answered, at nine next morning. Having no doubt of ample
redress, he did not choose to put the skipper on his guard by
mentioning his intentions. Next morning he went to court and
began to teU his story to the judge, who sat with his broad-
brimmed hat on, in great state, to hear causes of that nature.
His Lordship fancied he had seen the man before, nor was
he long in doubt ! for ere he had half finished, the judge, m a
voice hke thunder, but which his Lordship immediately recog
nised, for it was that of the identical skipper ! decided against
him with full costs, and ordered him out of court. His Lordship,
however, said he would appeal, and away he went to an advocate
for that purpose. He did accordingly appeal, and the next day
his appeal cause came regularly on. But aU his Lordship's
stoicism forsook him, when he agahi found that the very same
skipper and judge was to decide the appeal who had decided the
cause ; so that the leamed skipper first cheated and then laughed
at him. The noble writer having, in his book, made a very improper
and derogatory apphcation of his Dutch precedent to Lord Chan-

200 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
ceUor Clare and the Irish appeUant jurisdiction, was justly con
sidered by his brother peers as ha-ving committed a gross breach
of theh privUeges, and was thereupon ordered to attend in his
place and defend himself from the charge made against him by
the Lord Chancellor and the peers of Ireland. Of course, the
House of Lords was thronged to excess to hear his Lordship's
vindication I went an hour before it met, to secure a place
behind the throne, where the Commoners were adowed to crowd
up as wed as they could.
The ChanceUor, holding the vicious book hi his hand, asked
Lord Aldborough if he admitted that it was of his -writing and
pubhcation ? to which his Lordship rephed, that he could admit
nothing as written or published by him, tdl every word of it
should be first truly read to their Lordships aloud in the House.
Lord Clare, wishing to curtad some parts, began to read it him
self, but not being quite near enough to the Ught, his opponent
took a pair of enormous candlesticks from the table, walked
deliberately up to the throne, and requested the ChanceUor's
permission to hold the candles for him whilst he was reading
the book ! This novel sort of effrontery put the ChanceUor com
pletely off his guard : he was outdone, and permitted Lord
Aldborough to hold the hghts, whilst he perused the hbel com
paring him to a Dutch skipper : nor did the obsequious author
omit to set him right here and there when he omitted a word or
proper emphasis. It was ludicrous beyond example, and grati
fying to the secret dl-wishers of Lord Clare, who bore no smaU
proportion to the aggregate numbers of the House. The Ubel
being duly read through. Lord Aldborough at once sphitedly and
adroitly said that he avowed every word of it to theh Lordships ;
but that it was not intended as any libel either against the
House, or the jurisdiction ; but as a constitutional and just
rebuke to their Lordships for not performing their bounden duty
in attendmg the hearing of the appeal ; he being quite certain
that if any sensible men had been present, the Lord ChanceUor
would only have had two lords and two bishops (his own crea
tures) on his side of the question.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 201
This was considered as an aggravation of the contempt,
though some thought it was not very far from the matter-of-
fact. The result was, that after a bold speech, delivered with
great earnestness, his Lordship was voted guUty of a high breach
of privdege, and a Ubel on the Lord ChanceUor, as chairman of
the House. He was afterwards ordered to Newgate for sis
months by the Court of King's Bench, which sentence, his
Lordship told them, he considered, under the chcumstances, as
a high compUment and honour. In fact, he never was so pleased
as when speaking of the incident, and declaring that he expected
to have his book recorded on the Journals of the Lords ; the
ChanceUor himself, by applying his anecdote of the Dutch
skipper, having construed it into a regular episode on their pro-
ceedmgs. Lord Aldborough underwent his fuU sentence in Newgate ;
and his residence there gave rise to a fresh incident in the
memohs of a very remarkable person, who, at that time, was an
inmate of the same waUs, originaUy likewise through the favour
of ChanceUor Clare, and lodged on the same staircase : and as I
had been professionaUy interested in this man's affairs, I subjoin
the foUo-wing statement as curious, and in every circumstance,
to my personal knowledge, matter-of-fact.
James Fitzpatrick Knaresborough was a young man of toler
able private fortune in the county of Kilkenny. UnUke the
common run of young men at that day, he was sober, money-
making, and even avaricious, though moderately hospitable ; his
prmcipal -virtue consistmg hi making no exhibition of his vices.
He was of good figure ; and -without having the presence of a
gentleman, was what is caUed rather a handsome young feUow.
Mr. Knaresborough had been accused of a capital crime by a
Miss Barton, natural daughter of WdUam Barton, Esq., a magis
trate of the county of Kilkenny, who stated that she had gone
away -with bim for the pui-pose, and hi the strict confidence of
being married the same day at LeighUn Bridge. Her father was
a gentleman of consideration in the county, and a warrant was
granted agahist Knaresborough for the felony ; but he contrived

202 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
to get liberated on bail The grand jury, however, on the young
woman's testimony, found true bdls against him for the capital
offence, and he came to Carlow to take his trial at the assizes.
He immediately caUed on me with a brief ; said it was a mere
bagatelle and totaUy unfounded ; and that his acquittal would be
a matter of course. I had been retained against him, but intro
duced him to the present Judge Moore, to whom he handed his
brief He made so light of the busmess that he told me to get
up a famous speech against him, as no doubt I was instructed to
do. That indeed I could not say too much, as the whole would
appear, on her own confession, to be a consphacy ! Nay, so con
fident was he of procuring his acquittal, that he asked Mr. Moore
and myself to dine with him on our road to Kilkenny, which we
promised. On reading my brief I found that truly the case was not
over-strong against him even there, where, in all probabffity,
circumstances would be exaggerated ; and that it rested almost
exclusively on the lady's o-wn evidence.
I was then rather young at the bar, and determined, for my
o-wn sake, to make an interesting and affecting speech for my
client ; and having no doubt of Knaresborough's acquittal, I cer
tainly overcharged my statement, and added some facts solely
from invention. My surprise, then, may be estimated, when I
heard Miss Barton swear positively to every syUable of my
emblazonment. I should now have found myself most painfuUy
circumstanced, but that 1 had no doubt she must be altogether
discredited. In fact, she was quite shaken by the cross-exami
nation of the prisoner's counsel. He smded at her and at us ;
and said " the woman's credit was so clearly overthrown, that
there could be no doubt of his cUent's innocence of the charge of
violence ; and he would not trouble the court or jury by any
protracted defence on so clear a subject."
I considered aU was over, and left the court as the jury
retired. In about an hour, however, I received an account that
Knaresborough had been found guilty, and sent back to gaol
under sentence of death ! I was thunderstruck, and -without

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 203
delay -wrote to the chief secretary in Dublin, begging him in
stantly to represent to the Lord Lieutenant the real facts. Exe
cution was in consequence respited. So soon as I could return
to town, I waited on Major Hobart and the Lord Lieutenant,
stated precisely the particulars I have here given, and my satis
faction, even from my own brief, that the girl was perjured.
They referred me to Lord ChanceUor Clare, whose answer I
¦wrote down and never shaU forget : — " That may be aU very
tme, Barrington ; but he is a rascal, and if he does not deserve
to be hanged for this, he does for a former affair right well !" I
told him it was quite necessary for me to pubUsh the whole con
cern in my own justffication. He then took from his bureau a
smaU parcel of papers, and requested me to read them. They
proved to be copies of affidavits and evidence on a former accu
sation, from which Knaresborough had escaped by lenity, for
snapping a pistol at the father of a girl he had betrayed.
Lord Clare, however, recommended his sentence to be changed
to perpetual transportation ; but this was to the convict worse
than death, and he inclosed to me a petition which he had sent
to govemment, decUning the proposed commutation, and insist
ing on being forthwith executed, pursuant to his first sentence.
Not^withstanding, he was, in fine, actuaUy transported. He had
contrived to secure, in different ways, £10,000, and took a large
sum with him to Botany Bay. I had heard no more of him for
several years, when I was astonished one day by being accosted
in the streets of Dublin by this identical man, altered only by
time and in the colour of his hair, which had turned quite gray.
He was weU dressed, had a large cockade in his hat, and did not
at aU court secrecy. He told me that government had allowed
him to come away privately ; that he had gone through many
entertainiag and some dismal adventures in Africa and in
-America, whence he last came ; and he added, that as govem
ment were then busy raising troops, he had sent in a memorial
proposing to raise a regiment for a distant service solely at his
own expense. " I have," said he, " saved sufficient money for
this purpose, though my brother has, by breach of trast, got pos-

204 barrington's personal sketches
session of a great part of my fortune ;" which was true. In fact
he pestered the government, who were surprised at his temerity,
yet uu'wdling to meddle with him, untd at length they had him
arrested, and required to show his authority from the govemor
of New South Wales for returning from transportation. Being
unable to do so, he was committed to Newgate to await the
governor's reply.
Here his firmness and eccentricity never forsook him ; he
sent in repeated petitions to the ministry, requesting to be
hanged, and told me he would give any gentleman £500 who had
sufficient interest to get him put to death ¦without delay. An
unsatisfactory answer arrived from New South Wales ; but the
government could not, under the chcumstances, execute him for
his return ; and Uberate him Lord Clare would not. His confine
ment therefore was, of course, indefinitely continued. During
its course he purchased a lottery-ticket, which tumed out a prize
of £2000 ; and, soon after, a second brought him £500.
At this juncture the Earl of Aldborough became his next-
door neighbour. Ultimately the whole business terminated
pretty fortunately. My Lord had his fuU revenge on Lord
Clare, and got great credit for his firmness and gaUantry ; and
Knaresborough was at length turned out of Newgate when the
government were tired of keeping bim in.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 205

JOHN PHILPOT CUEEAN.
Theee have been few pubUc men whose characters have afforded
a more ample field for comment than that of Mr. Curran, and
there are very few who have been more miserably handled by
their biographers. Young men, who fancied they knew him
because they were latterly in his society, in fact knew bim not
at alL , None but the intimates of his earher and brighter days,
and, even among such, those only who had mixed with bim in
general as weU as professional society, could possibly estimate
the inconsistent quaUties of that celebrated orator. There was
such a ndngUng of greatness and Uttleness, of sublimity and
meanness, in his thoughts and language, that cursory observers,
confused amidst his versatiUty and brilUance, quitted Curran's
society without understanding anything relating to him beyond
his buoyant spirits and playful wit. But towards the close of
his day, this splendour dissipated, and dark and gloomy tints
appeared too conspicuously, poor fedow! for his posthumous
reputation. He felt his decline pressing quick upon him, and
graduaUy sank into Ustless apathy.
Even so early as 1798 his talents and popularity seemed to
me to have commenced a slow but obvious declension. By
seceding from parUament in the preceding year, he had evacuated
the field of battle and that commanding eminence from whence
he had so proudly repulsed aU his enemies. His talents, it is
true, for a whde, survived ; but his habits of Ufe became con
tracted ; his energies were paralysed ; his mind rambled ; he
began to prose ; and, after his appointment to the EoUs, the
world seemed to be closing fast upon him.
My intimacy with Curran was long and close. I knew
every turn of his mind and every point of his capacity. He was

206 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
not fitted to pursue the niceties of detad ; but his imagination
was infinite, his fancy boundless, his wit indefatigable. There
was scarce any species of talent to which he did not possess
some pretension. He was gifted by Nature with the faculties of
an advocate and a dramatist ; and the inferior but ingenious
accomphshment of personification, without mimicry, was equaUy
famUiar to him. In the circles of society, where he appeared
everybody's superior, nobody ever seemed jealous of the supe
riority. Curran's person was mean and decrepit ; very sUght, very
shapeless — with nothing of the gentleman about it ; on the con
trary, displaying spindle limbs, a shambling gait, one hand im
perfect, and a face yeUow, furrowed, rather fiat, and thoroughly
ordinary.* Yet his features were the very reverse of disagree
able ; there was something so indescribably dramatic m his eye
and the play of his eyebrow, that his visage seemed the index
of his mind, and his humour the slave of his will I never was
so happy in the company of any man as in Curran's for many
years. His very foibles were amusing. He had no vem for
poetry ; yet, fancying himseK a bard, he contrived to throw
off pretty verses : he certainly was no musician ; but con
ceiving himseK to be one, played very pleasingly : Nature
had denied him a voice ; but he thought he could smg ; and in
the rich mould of his capabdities, the deshe here also bred, in
some degree, the capacity.
It is a curious, but a just remark, that every slow, crawling
reptde is in the highest degree disgusting ; whdst an insect, ten
times uglier, if it be sprightly and seems bent upon enjoyment,!
excites no shuddering. It is so with the human race : had Cur
ran been a dud, slothful, inanimate being, his talents would not
have redeemed his personal defects. But his rapid movements,
t Ordinary, not ugly; thoroughly ordinary, thoroughly ugly. — M. Scriblerus;
see Lexic. in voce.
* "Like a corkscrew,'' interpolated Oulton, without betraying a sign. I
laughed heartily, and had it down to Jonah's account for a long time after. As
for Barrington's observation, though not happily put, it is near the truth, at all
events in our isle ; but in Borneo the exceptions are numerous.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 207
his fire, his sparkling eye, the fine and varied intonations of his
voice, — these conspired to give life and energy to every company
he mixed with ; and I have known ladies who, after an hour's
conversation, actuaUy considered Curran a beauty, and preferred
his society to that of the finest fedows present. There is, how
ever, it must be admitted, a good deal in the circumstance of a
man bemg celebrated, as regards the patronage of women.*
Curran had a perfect horror of fleas : nor was this very
extraordinary, since those vermin seemed to show him pecuUar
hostiUty. If they infested a house, my friend said that " they
always flocked to his bed-chamber when they heard he was to
sleep there !" I recollect his being dreadfully annoyed in this
way at Carlow ; and, on making his complaint in the morning to
the woman of the house, " By heavens ! Madam," cried he, " they
were in such numbers, and seized upon my carcass with so much
ferocity, that K they had been unanimous, and ad puUed one
way, they must have dragged me out of bed entirely ! "
I never saw Curran's opinion of himseK so much disconcerted
as by Mr. Godwin, whom he had brought, at the Carlow assizes,
to diue with Mr. Byrne, a friend of ours, in whose cause he and
I had been speciaUy employed as counsel. Curran, undoubtedly,
was not happy in his speech on this occasion — but he thought
he was. Nevertheless, we succeeded ; and Curran, in great
spirits, was very anxious to receive a pubhc compliment from
Mr. God-win, as an eminent Uterary man, teasing him, haK-
jokingly, for his opinion of his speech. Godwin fought shy for
a considerable time ; at length Curran put the question home to
him, and it could no longer be shifted.
" Since you will have my opinion," said Godwia, folding his
arms, and leaniag back in his chair with much sang froid, " I
ready never did hear anything so bad as your prose — except your
poetry, my dear Curran !"")"
* Men sometimes patronise the obscure merely to acquire the privUege of
insulting them.
t The maiden speech of a young barrister, who had stolen all his grand fiour-
ishes from Curran, was made in defence of a prisoner who was convicted of a
capital crime, and sentenced to be hanged. ' ' -What did you think of my speech ? "

208 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
Curran and I were in the habit, for several years, of meeting
by appointment in London, during the long vacation, and spend
ing a month there together, in the enjoyment of the pubhc
amusements ; but we were neither extravagant nor dissipated.
We had both some propensities in common, and a never-fading
amusement was derived from drawing out and remarkmg upon ec
centric characters. Curran played on such people as he would on
an instrument, and produced whatever tone he thought proper from
them. Thus, he always had a good fiddle m London, which he
occasionaUy brought to our dining-house for the general enter
tainment. We were in the habit of frequenting the Cannon coffee-house,
Chariag Cross, kept by the uncle of Mr. Eoberts, proprietor of
the Eoyai Hotel, Calais, where we had a box every day at the
end of the room ; and as, when Curran was free from professional
cares, his universal language was that of wit, my high sphits
never faded to prompt my performance of Jackall to the Lion.
Two young gentlemen of the Irish bar were frequently of our
party m 1796, and contributed to keep up the flow of wit, which,
on Curran's part, was weU-nigh miraculous. GraduaUy the ear
and attention of the company were caught. Nobody knew us,
and, as K carelessly, the guests flocked round our box to listen.
We perceived them, and increased our ffights accordmgly. In-
voluntardy, they joined in the laugh, and the more so when they
saw it gave no offence. Day after day the number of our satel-
Utes increased, untU the room, at five o'clock, was thronged to
hear the Irishmen. One or two days we went elsewhere ; and,
on returning to the Cannon, our host begged to speak a word
with me at the bar. " Sh," said he, " I never had such a set of
pleasant gentlemen in my house, and I hope you have received
no offence." I repUed, "Quite the contrary!" — "Why, sh,"
he asked Curran, with a provoking frisk. "I think of it!" replied the wit:
" 'twas a capital speech ! a gallows speech ! " The first flush of exultation paled ;
for gallows, as an attributive, signifies abominable in the Doric dialect. "At aU
events, it was my own, Mr. Curran," cried the crest-fallen. "Depend on it, I'U
never dispute that," said the wag, with a friendly smUe, " — under the circum
stances. "

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 209
rejomed he, " as you did not come the last few days, the com
pany feU off. Now, sh, I hope you and the other gentlemen wdl
excuse me K I remark that you wiU find an exceUent dish of
fish, and a roast turkey or joint, with any wine you please, hot
on your table, every day at five o'clock, whdst you stay in town;
and, I must beg to add, no charge, gentlemen."*
I reported to Curran, and we agreed to see it out. The land
lord was as good as his word : the room was fided ; we corned
stories to ted each other, the lookers-on laughed almost to con
vulsions, and for some thne we UteraUy feasted. Having had
our humour out, I desired a bdl, which the landlord positively
refused : however, we computed for ourselves, and sent bim a
£10 note enclosed in a letter, desiring him to give the balance to
his waiters.
An anecdote of a very different nature terminated one of our
trips to London. Curran asked me one day K I would accom
pany him to sup with Miss H. ; and I consented.
We were received with the greatest cordiality and politeness
by Miss H. : another young lady and two chddren were in the
room. Curran was most humorous and enUvening, and every-
thmg foreboded a cheerful petit soupe when the lady told Curran
she ¦wished to speak a word to him iu the next room. They
accordmgly withdrew. I was in conversation with the governess
and chddren, when I heard a noise hke the report of a smaU
* Some years since there was an odd fish swimming about Dublin, known by
the soubriquet of "the doctor,'' who got his grog in two or three leading taverns
under similar conditions. His great attraction was his unceasing and outrageous
lying. What grSatly increased the delight of his admirers was, he luxuriated in
the delusion that everyone believed him. His genuine complacency was a source
of iufinite amusement. Even when what he told provoked a burst of laughter, he
had not the least misgivings of the faith of his audience. If they laughed, it was
a compUment to his humour, not an explosion produced by his extraordinary
mendacity. One of his foUowers, a bon-vivant who used copiously to prime his
fancy, said of him : — "In the whole course of his life, the doctor had but one truth
to maintain his position in society ; and it served him well. Whenever asked,
was he dry? he honestly acknowledged he was ; and never lost by his candour :
but never tried it on any other occasion. In the Doric dialect ' ' Are you dry ? "
is a euphemism for " Will you have a glass?"
VOL. I. P

210 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
pistol, and Curran immediately rushed into the apartment ; Miss
H. marching majesticady after him. He took no notice of me,
but snatchmg up his hat, darted down stahs and into the street
with the utmost expedition. I ready conceived that she had fired
at him ; and feeling dubious as to my own fate, pounced upon
my chapeau, and made after my friend. I could not, however,
open the street-door, and gave myseK up for a murdered man,
particularly on the bed ringing violently ; but the revulsion of
my feelings was quite heavenly when I heard Miss H.'s voice
over the banisters caUing to her maid to " open the street-door
for the gentleman.'' I lost no time in makmg good my retreat,
but did not see Curran agam tiU next morning.
I had the greatest curiosity to know the cause of his sudden
fiight ; upon which he told me, but without any symptom of wit
or humour, that she was the most violent-tempered woman ex-
istiag ; that on their going into the boudoir together, she informed
him that she was then considerably distressed for a sum of money
for two or three months ; and that as she had never been under
any pecuniary obhgation to him, she would now ask one — ^namely
the loan of the sum she wanted. On her o'wn note. Curran, who
was particularly close, dreading the amount, anticipated her de
mand by hoping she did not suppose he could be so mean as to
require her note for any little advance he might have it in his
power to make ; and was happy in handing her half the sum at
his command in London — taking as he spoke a £10 note out of
his pocket-book. "By Heavens ! Barrington," said Curran, "her
look petrified me : she gazed for a moment at the note — tore it
to atoms, muttering the word ' rascal !' and when I was prepar
ing to make an apology, hit me plump on the side of the head,
with a fist at least as strong as any porter's ! I thought my
brains were knocked out ! — did you not hear the crack ?" inquhed
he. " To be sure I did," said I. " Did she say anything," con
tinued he, " after I was gone away ?" " She only said," rephed 1,
"that you were the greatest rascal existing," hereat Curran
trembled hugely, " and that she would next day find you out
wherever you were, and expose you aU over London as a -vdlain !"

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 211
Curran turned pale as ashes, made some excuse for leaving
the room, and about dinner-time I found I had carried my joke
too far ; for I received a note stating that he was necessitated to
start for Ireland directly on particular busmess, and would be
off in the mad.
Curran took no part in our fierce mditary associations, and
he was quite right. He was perfectly unadapted either to com
mand or to obey ; and as he must have done the one or the
other, he managed much better by keeping out of the brod al
together ; — as he himseK said to me—" If I were mounted on
ever so good a charger, it is probable I should not stick ten
minutes on his back in any kind of battle : and if my sword was
ever so sharp, I should not be able to cut a rebel's head off, un
less he promised to ' stand easy ' and in a good position for me."
Curran had ordered a new bar- wig, and not Uking the cut of
it, he jestingly said to the peruke-maker, " Mri Gahan, this wig
wdl not answer me at aU !"
"How so, sh?" said Gahan ; "it seems to fit."
" Ay," rephed Curran, " but it is the very worst speaking -wig
Lever had. I can scarce utter one word of common law in it ;
and as for equity, it is totaUy out of the question."
"WeU, sh," said Mr. Gahauj the wig-maker, with a serious
face, " I hope it may be no loss to me. I dare say ifwdl answer
CounseUor Trench."
But CounseUor Trench would not take the wig. He said he
could not hear a word in it. At length it was sent by Gahan to
Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald, who purchased it from Mr. Gahan, who
sold it a bargain on account of its bad character. Curran after
wards said " that the wig had been grossly calumniated ; for the
very same head which Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald then put it on was
afterwards stationed at the front of the Irish exchequer, where
every one of the kmg's debtors and farmers were obUged to pay
the wig-wearer some very substantial compliment, Mr. Fitzgerald
not being necessitated either to hear or speak one word upon the
occasion!" Chief-Justice Carleton was a very lugubrious personage. He

212 barrington's personal sketches
never ceased complammg of his bad state of health, and fre
quently introduced Lady Carleton into his " Book of Lamenta
tions :" thence it was remarked by Curran that the chief-justice
appeared as plaintiff {plaintive) in every cause that happened to
come before him !
One Nisi Prius day. Lord Carleton came into court, looking
unusuady gloomy. He apologised to the bar for bemg necessi
tated to adjourn the court. " The fact is," proceeded his Lord
ship in a low tone, " I have met -with a domestic misfortune.
Poor Lady Carleton has most unfortunately miscarried, and" 
"Oh, then, my Lord!" exclaimed Curran, "there was no
necessity for your Lordship to make any apology, smce it now
appears that your Lordship has no issus to try."
In 1812 Curran dined at my house m Brook Street, London.
He was very dejected : I did my utmost to rouse bim — in vain.
He leaned his face on his hand, and was long sdent. He looked
yellow, -wrinkled, and Uvid : the dramatic fire had left his eye,
the spirit of his wit had fled, his person was shrunken, and his
whole demeanour miserable and distressiag.
After a long pause, a dubious tear standing in his eye, he on
a sudden exclaimed, with a sort of desperate composure, "Bar
rington, I am perishing ! day by day I'm perishmg ! I feel it :
you knew me when I lived — and you witnessed my anmldla-
tion." He was agam silent.
I felt deeply for him. I saw that he spoke truth : reasonnig
would only have mcreased the malady, and I therefore tried
another course — bagatelle. I jested with him, and reminded
him of old anecdotes. He Ustened — graduaUy his attention
was caught, and at length I excited a smde ; a laugh soon fol
lowed, a few glasses of -wine brought him to his natural tempera
ment, and Curran was himseK for a great part of the evening.
I saw, however, that he would soon relapse, and so it tumed
out ; he began to talk to me about his family, and that very
wildly. He had conceived some strange prejudices on this
head, which I disputed with him untU I wearied of the subject
We supped together, and he sat cheerful enough tdl I turned

of his own times. 213
him into a coach, at one o'clock in the morning. I never saw
him after in London.
Mr. Curran had a younger brother, who was an attorney —
very like him, but taUer and better-looking. This man had a
good deal of his brother's humour, a Uttle wit, and much satire ;
but his slang was infinite, and his conduct very dissolute. He
was, in fact, what may be termed the best blackguard of his pro
fession (and that was saying a great deal for him). My friend
had justly excluded him from his house, but occasionaUy re
Ueved his finances, until these cads became so importunate, that
at length further compUance was refused.
" Sh," said the attorney to me, one day, " K you wid speak
to my brother, I am sure he'U give me something handsome
before the week is out !" I assured him he was mistaken,
whereupon he burst into a loud laugh !
There was a smaU space of dead wad at that time directly
facmg Curran's house, in Ely Place, against which the attorney
procured a -written permission to build a little wooden box. He
accordingly got a carpenter, one of his comrades, to erect a cob
bler's staU there for bim ; and having assumed the dress of a
Jobson, he wrote over his staU, " Curran, Cobbler — ^ Shoes soled,
or heeled. When the staU is shut, inquire over the way."
Curran, on returning fr'om court, perceived this worthy hard
at work, with a parcel of chairmen lounging round him. The
attorney just nodded to his brother, cried "How do you do.
Jack?" and went on with his employment.
Curran immediately dispatched a servant for the spendthrKt,
to whom having given some money, the showboard was taken
down, the staU removed, and the attorney vowed that he would
never set up again as a cobbler.
I never knew Curran express more unpleasant feeUngs than
at a chcumstance which ready was too trivial to excite any
such ; but this was his humour : he generaUy thought more of
trifles than of matters of importance, and worked himself up
mto most painful sensations upon subjects which should only
have excited his laughter.

214 barrington's personal sketches
At the commencement of the peace he came to Paris, deter
mined to get into French society, and thus be enabled to form a
better idea of theh habits and manners, — a species of knowledge
for which he quite languished. His parasites had told hhn that
his fame had already preceded him even to the closet of Louis
le Desire : he accordingly procured letters of introduction from
persons of high rank in England, who had foolishly la-vished
favours and fortunes on the Bourbons and theh gang of emi
grants, in general the most ungrateful (as time has demonstrated)
of the human species, although it was then universaUy beheved
that they could not quite forget the series of kmdnesses which
had preserved them from starvation or massacre.
Amongst other letters, he had the honour of bearing one,
couched in strong terms, from his Eoyai Highness the Duke of
Sussex to the Count d'Artois, now Kmg of France, reinstated on
the throne of his forefathers by the blood, the treasure, and the
foUy of England.
" Now I am in the right line," said Curran, " mtroduced by
a branch of one royal famdy to that of another ; now I shad have
fuU opportunity of forming my o'wn opinion as to the sentiments
of the old and new nobdity of France, whereon I have been
etemady, though rather bUndly, argumg."
I was rather sceptical, and said, " I am disposed to think
that you wid argue more than ever when you get home
again." Away he went to the Tudleries, to enter his name and see
Monsieur. Having left his card and letters of introduction, he
waited ten days for an audience : Monsieur was occupied. A
second entry was now made by Curran at the palace, and, after
ten days more, a thhd ; but Monsieur was stiU busy. A fresh
entry and card of J. P. C. had no better success. In my Ihe I
never saw Curran so chagrined. He had devised excuses for the
arrogant Prince two or three times ; but this last instance of
neglect quite overcame him, and in a few days he deternuned to
return to Ireland -without seeing the Count d'Artois or ascertain
ing the sentiments of the French nobdity. He told his story to

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 215
Mr. L., a mutual friend of ours in Paris, who said it must be
some omission of the S-wiss porter.
" Certainly," said Curran, catching at this straw, " it must,
no doubt !" and his opinion was speedily reaUsed by the receipt
of a note from Monsieur's aide-de-camp, stating, that His Eoyai
Highness would be glad to receive Mr. Curran at eight o'clock
the foUowing morning.
About nine o'clock he returned to the hotel,. and ad I could
get from him, in his -wrath, was "D  n!" In fact, he
looked absolutely miserable. " To think," said he at length, " of
this fedow ! he told me he always dined -with his brother, and
kept no establishment of his o-wn ; then bowed me out, by  ,
as K I was an importunate dancing-master !"
" Wait tiU the next revolution, Curran," said I, " and then we'd
be even -with him !"
At this moment Mr. L. came in, and, with a most cheerful
countenance, said, " WeU, Curran, I carried your point !"
" What point ?" asked Curran.
'' I knew it would take," pursued L. smhking : " I told
Monsieur's aide-de-camp that you felt quite hurt and miser
able on account of Monsieur's having taken no notice of your
letters or yourseK, though you had paid him four visits ; and
that 
" What do you say ? " shouted Curran.
Upon L. repeating his words with infinite glee, our disap-
pomted friend burst out into a regular frenzy, slapped his face
repeatedly, and walked about exclaiming, " I'm disgraced ! I'm
humbled in the eyes of that fedow ! I'm miserable !"
I apprehend he had experienced but Uttle more ci-vdity
from any of the restored gentry of the French emigrants, to several
of whom he brought letters, and I am sure, had he received any
in-vitation from them, I must have heard of it. I fancy that a
glass of eau sucrd was the very extent of the practical hospi
tahty he experienced from Messieurs les emigres, who, if I
might judge by their jaws and cravats of the quantity and
quahty of theh food and of their credit -with washerwomen, were

216 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
by no means in as flourising a state as when they Uved on our
benevolence.* There is much of the Ufe of this celebrated manf omitted by
those who have attempted to write it. Even his son could have
known but little of him, as he was not bom at the time his
father's glories had attained theh zenith. Before he became the
¦* This is extravagantly tart. Barrington thought he had as good a right to be
as conspicuous in the French court as in the Irish. He conceived that he had
brought with him the stage and scenery of 1782 — Free Trade, ParUamentary
Independence, the Volunteers, and the fall of 1800. He fancied himself neglected
at a time when nobody could possibly think of him ; and avenged his vanity in
the above ungenerous sneer.
+ Curran was born, 1750, at Ne-wmarket, a smaU town in the County Cork. In
1770 he became a sizar of Trinity CoUege, and five years after, a member of the
Irish bar. In 1779 he was admitted "a monk of the Screw," a convi"no-pohtical
society of the most eminent men of his day. In 1783 he obtained a silk gown and
a seat in parUament. He was one of the readiest "wits that ever lived, and of an
inexhaustible fancy. His speeches were warm, gUttering, and animated ; indif
ferent in style; abounding in wUd and broken metaphor ; and of Uttle weight.-
He had a fine turn for poesy ; and has left behind him an ode without any equal ;
not even in Horace or Beranger, and one needs not say more. It is a song in two
stanzas, beginning — "If sadly thinking."
His great career as a popular advocate began in 1794, with the defence of
Archibald Hamilton Rowan for libel ; and this effort of forensic eloquence he
scarcely ever surpassed ; but his client was sentenced and imprisoned. He became
Master of the EoUs in 1806, and continued in office tiU 1814, when he resigned
broken in health and spirits. He withdrew to Brompton in 1815, and took up
his residence near Moore. Here he Uved in great seclusion, and escaped from his
despondency and cares in October 1817. Hc was interred in the vaults of Pad-
dington Church ; from which, twenty -three years after, his remains were removed, at
the instance and expense of a noble enthusiast. Lord Cloncurry, to the fine ceme
tery, Glasnevin. Over them has been placed a simple but graceful monument
raised by a public fund.
Of Curran's genius we have the best testimony from Byron, who met him in
1813, "Curran !" exclaimed the poet ; "I have heard that man speak more
poetry than I have ever seen -written." The best commentary ou Curran's style
of rhetoric is the speeches of his imitator, Charles Phillips, who so exaggerates all
the worst faults of his type that they cannot fail to be discovered, and may be
avoided. In truth Curran stopped at nothing ; a faculty most pleasing to mis
cellaneous audiences. A theatre so broad, as it was indeed in his time, tempted to
many an extraordinary hound ; and an atmosphere so free and congenial favoured
and fed innumerable corruscations. Nothing is so abhorrent to the lust of popular
admu-atiou as the chaste cheek of taste, the unsoliciting lips of purity.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 217
biographer of his celebrated parent, Mr. Curran would have done
wed to inquire who had been that parent's decided friends, and
who his in-vidious enemies ; who supported hhn when his fame
was tottering, and who assaded him when he was incapable of
resistance : if he had used this laudable discretion, he would pro
bably have learned how to eulogise, and how to censure, with
more justice and discrimination.
No gentleman of our day knew Mr Curran more intimately
than myseK, although our natural propensities were in many pomts
quite uncongenial. His vanity too frequently misled his judg
ment, and he" thought himseK surrounded by a crowd of friends,
when he was encompassed by a set of -vulgar flatterers : he looked
quite carelessly at the distinctions of society, and m consequence
ours was not generaUy of the same class, and our intercourse
more frequently at my house than at his. But he could adapt
himseK to ad ranks, and was equaUy at home at Merrion Square
or at the Priory.
The celebrity of Curran's Ufe, and the obscurity of his death ;
the height of his eminence, and the depth of his depression ; the
extent of his talents, and the humiliation of his imbecdity — ex
hibited the greatest and most singular contrasts I ever knew
among the host of pubhc characters -with whom I so long asso
ciated. At the bar I never saw an orator so capable of producing
those irresistible transitions of effect which form the true criterion
of forensic eloquence. But latterly no man became more capable,
m private society, of exciting drowsiness by prosing, or disgust
by grossness : such are the inconsistent materials of humanity.*
I should not aUude here to a painful subject as respects the
late Mr Currnn, had it not been so commonly spoken of, and so
prominent an agent in his ulterior misfortunes : I mean that un-
* Humanity is not to be blamed. Had Curran, whUe in the -vigour of his in
tellect, cultivated >¦¦ purer taste, and paid his respects to a higher morality, we
would have been spared the pain of this record of his decay. It is probable that most
of his private chagrin, as weU as the admitted blemishes of his Ufe, proceeded from
a neglect of timely introspection. But what multitudes fail herein ; and how
sparingly we should censure.

218 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
lucky suit of his against the Eev. Mr Sandes. I endeavoured
as much as possible to dissuade him from commencing that
action, having reason to feel convinced that it must terminate in
his discomfitm-e ; but he was obdurate, and had bitter cause to
lament his obduracy. I did my utmost also to dissuade him from
his unfortunate difference with Mr. Ponsonby. I told him, as I
firmly beUeved, that he was -wrong, or at ad events imprudent,
and that his reputation could bear no trffiing with : but he did
not credit me, and that blow feUed him to the earth.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 219

THE LAW OF LIBEL. '
In the early part of my Ufe the Irish press, though supposed to
be under due restraint, was in fact quite uucontroUed. From the
thne of Dean S-wKt, and Draper's Letters, its freedom had in
creased at intervals not only as to pubhc but private subjects.
This was attributable to several curious causes, which combined
to render the law of hbel, although stronger m theory, vastly
feebler m practice than at the present day ; and whoever takes
the trouble of looking into the Irish newspapers about the com
mencement of the American revolution, and in 1782, vidU find
therein some of the boldest writing and ablest libels in the
EngUsh language. Junius was the pivot on which the hberty of
the press at one moment vibrated. Liberty was triumphant ; but
K that precedent were to prevaU to the same extent, I am not
sure it did not achieve too much.
The law of Ubel in England, however raded at, appears to me
upon the freest footing that private or pubhc security can pos
sibly admit. The press is not encumbered by any previous
restraints. Any man may -write, print, and pubUsh, whatever he
pleases ; and none but his o-wn peers and equals, in two distmct
capacities, can declare his culpabdity, or enable the law to punish
him, as a crindnal, for a breach of it. I cannot conceive what
greater Uberty or protection the press can require, or ought to
enjoy. If a man voluntarily commits an offence agamst the law
of Ubel with his eyes open, it is only fah that he should abide by
the statute that punishes him for domg so. Despotic govern
ments employ a pre-vious censorship, m order to cloak their
crimes and estabhsh theh tyranny. England, on the other hand,
appoints independent judges and sworn jurors to defend her
hberties ; and hence is confirmed to the press a wholesome lati-

220 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
tude of fud and fair discussion on every public man and
measure. The law of Ubel in Ireland was formerly very loose and
badly understood, aud the courts there had no particular propen
sity for multiplying legal difficulties on ticklish subjects.
The judges were then dependent; a chcumstance which
might have partiaUy accounted for such causes bemg less frequent
than in later times ; but another reason, more extensively ope
rating, was, that in those days men who were UbeUed generaUy
took the law into theh o-wn hands, and eased the Kmg's Bench
of great trouble by the substitution of a smaU-sword for a decla
ration, or a case of pistols for a judgment; and these same articles
certainly formed a greater check upon the propagation of hbels
than the twelve judges and thhty-six jurors, aU together, at the
present day ; and gave rise to a code of laws very different from
those we caU municipal. A third consideration is, that scolding-
matches and disputes among soldiers were then never made
matters of legal inquiry. Mditary officers are now, by statute,
held unfit to remam such if they fight one another, whilst for
merly they were thought unfit to remain in the army K they did
not. Formerly they were bound to fight in person, now they
can fight by proxy, and in Ireland may lure champions to contest
the matter for them every day in the week (Sunday excepted),
and so decide theh quarrels without the least danger or one drop
of bloodshed. A few able lawyers, armed -with paper and parch
ment, wiU fight for them aU day long, and if necessary, ad night
Ukewise, and that probably for only as much recompense as may
be sufficient to pro-vide a handsome entertainment to some of the
spectators and to their pioneer attorney, who is generaUy bottle-
holder on these occasions.
Another curious anomaly is become ob-vious. If lawyers now
refuse to pistol each other, they may be scouted out of society,
though dueUing is against the law ! but if mUitary officers take
a shot at each other, they may be dismissed from the army,
though fighting is the essence and object of their profession !
so that a civdian, by the new lights of society, changes places

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 221
•with the soldier. The soldier is bound to be peaceable, and the
ci-viUan is forced to be pugnacious — cedent arma togce ! It is
curious to conjecture what our next metamorphosis may be.
The first pubUcation which gave rise, so far as I can remember,
to decided measui-es for restraining the Irish press, was a news
paper caded " Hoy's Mercury," pubUshed nearly fifty years ago
by Mr Peter Hoy, a printer in Parhament Street, whom I saw
some time since in his shop on Ormond Quay, in good health,
and who voted for me on the Dubhn election of 1803.
In this newspaper Mr. Hoy brought forward two fictitious
characters — one caUed Van Trump, the other Epaphroditus Dod
ridge. These he represented as standing together m one of the
most pubhc promenades of the Irish capital ; and the one, on
describing the appearance, features, and dress of each passer-by,
and asking his companion, " Who that was ?" received, in reply,
a fuU accoimt of the indi-vidual, to such a degree of accuracy as
to leave no doubt respecting identity, particularly in a place so
contracted as, comparatively speaking, DubUn then was. In this
way as much UbeUous matter was disseminated as would now
send a pubUsher to jaU for half his Ufe ; and the affah was so
warmly and generady taken up, that the lawyers were set to
work, Peter Hoy sadly terrffied, and Van Trump and Epaphro
ditus Dodridge banished from that worthy person's newspaper
But the most remarkable observation is, that so soon as the
Irish judges were, in 1782, made by statute independent of the
crown, the law of Ubel became more strictly construed, and the
UbeUers more severely punished. This can only be accounted
for by supposing, that whde dependent, the judges felt that any
pecuUar rigour might be attributed, in certain mstances, less to
theh justice than to their pohcy ; and being thus sensitive, espe
ciaUy in regard to crown cases, they were chary of pushing the
enactments to their fuU scope. After the provision which ren
dered them independent of the ruling powers, this deUcacy
became needless ; but, nevertheless, a candid judge wUl always
bear in mmd that austerity is no necessary attribute of justice,
which is always more efficient in its operation when tempered

222 barrington's personal sketches
-with mercy. The unsalutary harshness of our penal code has
become notorious. True, it is not acted up to ; and this is only
another modification of the e-vd, since it tempts almost every
culprit to anticipate his o-wn escape. On the Continent it is
different. There the punishment which the law provides is cer
tainly inflicted ; and the consequence is, that in France there is
not above one capital con-viction to any twenty m England.
The late Lord ClonmeU' s heart was nearly broken by vexa
tions connected -with his pubUc functions. He had been in the
habit of holding parties to excessive baU m Ubel cases on his
own fiat, which method of proceeding was at length regularly
chadenged and brought forward ; and, the matter bemg discussed
¦with asperity in parliament, his Lordship was, to his great
mortffication, restrained from pursuing such a course for the
future. He had, in the court of King's Bench, used rough language
towards Mr. Hackett, a gentleman of the bar, the members of
which profession considered themselves as aU assaded in the
person of a brother barrister. A general meeting was therefore
caded by the father of the bar ; a severe condemnation of his
Lordship's conduct voted, with only one dissentient voice ; and
an unprecedented resolution entered mto, that " untd his Lord
ship publicly apologised, no barrister would either take a brief,
appear in the King's Bench, or sign any pleadmgs for that court."
This experiment was actuady tried. The judges sat, but no
counsel appeared ; no cause was prepared, the attorneys aU van
ished, and their Lordships had the court to themselves. There
was no alternative ; and next day Lord ClonmeU published a
very ample apology, by advertisement in the newspapers, and,
with exceUent address, made it appear as K written on the even
ing of the offence, and therefore voluntary.*
* An occurrence somewhat of the same nature took place, at no very great
distance of time, at Mai-yborough assizes, between Mr. Daly, a judge of the Irish
Court of King's Bench, and Mr. W. Johnson, now judge of the Common Pleas, in
that country.
Mr. Daly spoke of committing Mr. Johnson for being rude to hifti, but, un
fortunately, he committed himself ! A meeting was caUed, at which I was

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 223
This nobleman had buUt a beautKul house near Dubhn, and
waUed-in a deer-park to operate medicinally, by inducing bim to
use more ridmg exercise than he other^wise would take. Mr.
Magee, printer of the DubUn Evening Post, who was what they
caU a Uttle cracked, but very acute, one of the men whom his
Lordship had held to excessive bad, had never forgiven it, and
purchased a plot of ground under my Lord's "windows, which he
caded "Fiat-hdl :" there he entertained the populace of Dubhn,
once a-week, -with various droU exhibitions and sports ; such, for
instance, as asses dressed up with wigs and scarlet robes ; danc
ing dogs, in go'wns and wigs as barristers ; soaped pigs, etc.
These assembUes, although productive of the greatest annoyance
to his Lordship, were not sufficiently riotous to be termed a
pubUc nuisance, being solely confined to Magee's own field, which
his Lordship had unfortunately omitted to purchase when he
budt his house.
The Earl, however, expected at length to be clear of his tor
mentors' feats, at least for a whde ; as Magee was found gudty
on a charge of Ubel, and Lord ClonmeU would have no qualms
of conscience m giving justice fuU scope by keeping him under
the eye of the marshal, and consequently an absentee from
" Fiat-hdl," for a good space of thne.
Magee was brought up for judgment, and pleaded himseK,
in mitigation, that he was ignorant of the pubUcation, not having
been in DubUn when the Ubel appeared ; which fact, he added.
Lord Clonmell wed knew. He had been, indeed, entertaining
the citizens under the Earl's windows, and saw his Lordship
peepmg out from the side of one of them the whole of that day ;
and the next morning he had overtaken his Lordship riding into
to'wn. " And by the same token," continued Magee, " your Lord
ship was riding cheek by jowl -with your own brother, Matthias
requested to attend, but I declihed, and was afterwards informed that my refusal
had, very unjustly, given offence to both pari;ies. The fact is, that, entertaining
no very high opinion of the placabiUty of either, I did not choose to interfere, and
so unluckily repUed that "they might fight dog, fight bear, I would give no
opiniou about the mdXtev."— {Author's note.)

224 barrington's personal sketches
Scott, the taUow-chandler,* from Waterford, and audibly discus
sing the price of fat at the very moment I passed you."
There was no standing this : — a general laugh was inevitable;
and Ms Lordship, with that address for which he was so remark
able, affecting to commune a moment with his brother judges, said,
— "it was obvious, from the poor man's manner, that he was not just
then in a state to receive definitive judgment ; that the paroxysm
should be permitted to subside before any sentence could be pro
perly pronounced. For the present, therefore, he should only be
given into the care of the marshal, tdl it was ascertamed how far
the state of his intedect should regulate the court in pronounciag
its judgment." The marshal saw the crisis, and hurried away
Magee before he had further opportunity of incensing the chief-
justice. TheophUus S^wift, who, though an Irishman, practised at the
EngUsh bar, gave rise to one of the most curious Ubel cases that
ever occurred in Ireland, and winch involved a point of very
great interest and importance.
Theophdus had two sons. In point of figure, temper, dis
position, and propensities, no two brothers in the whole kingdom
were so dissimdar. Dean SwKt, the eldest, was tad, thm, and
gentlemanly, but withal an unquaUfied reformer and revolutionist :
the second, Edmond, was broad, squat, rough, and as fanatical
an ultra-royahst as the king's dominions afforded. Both were
clever men in theh way.
The father was a free-thinker in every respect ; fond of _ his
sons, although materiady different from either, but agreemg ¦with
the younger in being a professed and extravagant loyalist. He
was bald-headed, pale, slender, and active — ^with grey eyes, and
a considerable squint : an exceUent classic scholar, and versed
Ukewise hi modern Uterature and beUes lettres. In short,
TheophUus S-wift laid claim to the title of a smcere, kind-hearted
¦* Lord ClonmeU and Matthias Scott vied with each other which had the largest
and most hanging pair of cheeks — ¦vulgarly called jowls. His Lordship's chin was
a treble One, whUst Matthias's was but doubled ; but then it was broader and
hung deeper than his brother's. — {Author's note.)

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 225
man ; but was, at the same thne, the most visionary of created
beings. He saw everything whimsicaUy — many things erro
neously — and nothing Uke another person. Eternally in motion,
either talking, ¦writing, fighting, or whatever occupation came
uppermost, he never remained idle one second whdst awake,
and I ready believe was busily employed even in his slumbers.
His sons, of course, adopted entirely different pursuits ; and,
though affectionate brothers, agreed in nothing save a love for
each other and attachment to their father. They were both
writers, and good ones ; both speakers, and bad ones.
Mditary etiquette was formerly very conspicuous on some
occasions. I weU recollect when a man bearing the king's com
mission was considered as bound to fight anybody and everybody
that gave him the invitation. When the Duke of York was
pleased to exchange shots with Colonel Lennox, afterwards Duke
of Eichmond, it was considered by our friend Theophilus as a
personal offence to every gentleman in England, civil or mditary ;
and he held that every man who loved the reigning family should
chaUenge Colonel Lennox, untd somebody turned up who was
good marksman enough to penetrate the Colonel, and thus punish
his presumption. FoUowing up his speculative notions, Mr. Swift actually
chaUenged Colonel Lennox for having had the arrogance to fire
at the king's son. The Colonel had never seen or even heard of
this antagonist ; but learning that he was a barrister and a
gentleman, he considered that, as a miUtary man, he was bound
to fight him as long as he thought proper The result, therefore,
was a meeting ; and Colonel Lennox shot my friend Theophdus
clean through the carcass, so that, as Sir CaUaghan O'BraUaghan
says, "he made his body shine through the sun!" Swift, ac
cording to ad precedents on such occasions, first staggered, then
fed— was carried home, and given over — made his wdl, aud be
queathed the Duke of York a gold snuff-box ! However, he
recovered so completely, that when the Duke of Eichmond went
to Ireland as Lord Lieutenant, I saw SwKt at his Grace's first
levee, most anxious for the tatroduction. His turn came ; and
VOL. I. Q

226 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
without ceremony he said to the Duke, by way of a pun, that
" the last time he had the honour of waiting on his Grace, as
Colonel Lennox, he received better entertainment — for that his
Grace had given him a baU ! "
" True," said the Duke, smiling ; " and now that I am Lord
Lieutenant, the least I can do is to give you a brace of them ! "
and in due time he sent SwKt two special invitations to the
bads, to make these terms consistent with his Excedency's com
pliments. Swift, as wiU hence be inferred, was a romantic personage.
In fact, he showed the most decisive determination not to die in
obscurity, by whatever means his celebrity might be acquired.
A savage, justly termed the monster, had, during Swift's
career at the bar, practised the most horrid and mysterious crime
we have yet heard of — namely, that of stabbing women mdis-
criminately in the street, dehberately and without cause. He
was at length taken and ordered for trial : but so .odious and de
testable was his crime, that not a gentleman of the bar would
act as his advocate. This was enough to induce Swift to accept
the office. He argued truly, that every man must be presumed
innocent tid by legal proof he appears to be guilty, and that
there was no reason why the monster should be excepted from
the general rule, or that actual guilt should be presumed on the
charge against him more than any other charge against any other
person : that prejudice was a prima facie injustice, and that the
crime of stabbing a lady with a weapon which was only calcu
lated to wound, could not be greater than that of stabbing her
to the heart, and destroying her on the instant : that if the charge
had been cutting the lady's throat, he would have had his choice
of advocates. He spoke and published his defence of the
monster, who, however, was found gudty, and not half punished
for his atrocity.
Theophdus had a competent private fortune ; but as such
men as he must somehow be always dabbling in what is caded
in Ireland " a bit of a law-suit," a large percentage of his rents
never failed to get into the pockets of the attorneys and counsel-

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 227
lors ; and after he had recovered from the Duke of Eichmond's
perforation, and the monster had been incarcerated, he deter
mined to change his site, settle in his native country, and place
his second son in the university of DubUn.
Suffice it to say, that he soon commenced a fracas with all
the FeUows of the university, on account of their "not doing
justice somehow," as he said, " to the cleverest lad in Ireland ! "
and, according to his usual habit, he determined at once to
punish several of the offenders by penmanship, and regenerate
the great university of Ireland by a powerful, pointed, per
sonal, and undisguised Ubel against its Fedows.
Theophdus was not without some plausible grounds to work
upon ; but he never considered that a printed hbel did not admit
of any legal justffication. He at once put half-a-dozen of the
Fedows hors de society, by proclaiming them to be perjurers, pro
fligates, impostors, etc. etc. ; printed, pubUshed, aud circulated
this his eulogium with aU the activity and zeal which belonged
to his nature ; and the main tenor of his charge was a most
serious imputation and a very home one.
By the statutes of the Irish university, strict celibacy is re
quired ; and Mr. Swift stated "that the Fedows of that university,
being also clergymen, had sworn on the Holy Evangelists that
they would strictly obey and keep sacred these statutes of the
university, in manner, form, letter, and spirit, as enjoined by
their charter from the virgin queen. But that, notwithstanding
such their solemn oath, several of these FeUows and clergymen,
flying in the face of the Holy EvangeUsts and of Queen EUzabeth ;
and forgetful of morahty, religion, common decency, and good
example, had actuady taken to themselves each a woman, who
went by the name of Miss Svdira-one, but who had undergone,
or was supposed to have undergone, the ceremony and consum
mation of marriage with such and such a perjured Fedow and
parson of Dublin university," etc. etc. ; and " that he was obhged
to take away his son for fear of contamination," etc. etc.
It is easy to conceive that this publication, from the pen of
a very gentlemanly, weU-educated barrister, naturally made no

228 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
smaU bustle and fuss amongst a portion of the university men.
Those who had kept out of the scrape were not reported to be in
any state of deep mourning on the subject, as their piety was
the more conspicuous ; and it could not hurt the feehngs of any
of them to reflect that he might possibly get a step in his pro
motion, on account of the defection of those seniors whose
hearts might be broken, or removal made necessary, by the
never-ending perseverance of this tremendous barrister, who had
christened his son Dean SwKt, that he might appear a relative of
that famous churchman, the patron and idol of the Irish people.
The gentlemen of the long robe were, of course, dehghted
with the occurrence : they had not for a long time met -with so
fud and fair an opportunity of expending every sentence of their
-wit, eloquence, law, and logic, as in taking part in this cele
brated controversy. I was greatly rejoiced at findmg on my
table a retainer against the FeUows and parsons of Trinity Col
lege, whom I had always considered as a narrow-mmded and
untalented body of men, getting from £1000 to £1500 a-year
each for teaching several hundred students how to remam igno
rant of most of those acquhements that a weU-educated gentle
man ought to be master of : it is true, the students had a fair
chance of becoming good Latin scholars, of gaining a Uttle Greek
and Hebrew, and of understanding several books of EucUd "with
three or four chapters of Locke on the Human Understanding,
and a sixpenny treatise on logic -written by a very good di-vine,
one of the body, to prove clearly that sophistry is superior to
reason.* This being my opinion of them, I felt no quahns of
conscience in undertaking the defence of Theophdus S-wht, Esq.,
* Nothing can so completely stamp the character of the university of Dublin,
as their suppression of the only school of eloquence in Ireland — "The Historical
Society ; " — a school from which arose some of the most distinguished, able, and
estimable characters that ever appeared in the forum, or in the parUament of Ire
land : this step was what the blundering Irish would caU— " advancing back
wards." — {Author's note.)
This famous society has been for some time rehabilitated, and is daily advanc
ing in reputation. Since its revival, in 1843, several of its members have greatly
distinguished themselves in public.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 229
though most undoubtedly a hbeUer. It is only necessary to say,
that Lord ClonmeU, who had been, I believe, a sizer himseK in
that university, and in truth, aU the judges (and with good
reason) felt indignant at Theophdus Swift's so violently assading
and disgracing, in the face of the emphe, the only university in
Ireland — thus attacking the clergy though he defended a monster
An information was in due form granted against Theophdus,
and as he could neither deny the fact nor plead a justffication to
the hbel, of comse we had but a bad case of it. But the worse
the case, the harder an Irish barrister always worked to make it
appear a good one. I beg here to observe, that the Irish bar
were never so decorous and mdd at that time, as to give up
their briefs in desperate cases, as I have seen done in England —
pohtely to save, as asserted, pubhc time, and concdiate theh Lord
ships : thus sending their chents out of court, because they
thought they were not defensible. On the contrary, as I have
said, the worse the case entrusted to an Irish barrister, the more
zealously did he labour and fight for his cUent. If he thought
it indefensible, why take a fee ? but his motto was, " whUe there
is Ufe there is' hope."* In short, they always stuck to theh
cause to the very last gasp I — and it may appear fabulous to a
steady regular Enghsh expounder of the law, that I have re
peatedly seen a cause which the bar, the bench, and the jury,
seemed to think was irrevocably lost,— after a few hours' rub-
bmg and puffing, Uke the exertions of the Humane Society,
brought into a state of restored animation ; and, after another
hour or two of cross-examination and perseverance, the judges
and jury have changed theh impressions, and sent home the
cause quite ahve in the pockets of the o-wner and lawful sohcitor.
In making these observations, I cannot but mention a gen
tleman then at the very head of the bar, as Prime Serjeant of
Ireland, Mr. James Fitzgerald. I knew him long in gxeat prac
tice, and never saw hhn -give up one case whdst it had a single
point to rest upon, or he a puff of breath left to defend it ; and
* Here I have suppressed a dozen lines of a coarse and unmannerly thade
against Irish barristers. Without wit or truth, they merely fouled the page.

230 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
I can venture to say, that if the Eight Honourable James Fitz
gerald, had been sent ambassador to Stockholm m the place of
the Eight Honourable Vesey Fitzgerald, his clier gargon, he would
have worked Bernadotte to the stumps, merely by treatiag him
just as if he were a motion in the Court of Exchequer. There
was no treaty which the Government of England might have
ordered him to insist upon, that he would not have carried, at
all events in a degree.
And now, reader ! I have in my preface stated my objections
to the epithet gentle ; we wiU go back to Theophdus Swift, and
the coUege, and the King's Bench. The trial at length came on,
and there were decidedly more parsons present than I believe
ever appeared in any court of justice of the same dimensions.
The court set out full gaUop against us ; nevertheless, we worked
on — t-wice twelve judges could not have stopped us ! I examined
the most learned man of the whole university, Dr Barret, a
little, greasy, shabby, croaking, round-faced vice-provost : he
knew of nothing on earth, save books and guineas — never went
out, held but Uttle intercourse with mankind. I worked at hhn
unsuccessfuUy for more than an hour ; not one decisive sentence
could I get him to pronounce : at length, he grew quite thed of
me, and I thought to concihate him by teding him that lus
father had christened me. "Indeed!" exclaimed he: "Oh! 1
did not know you were a Christian !" At this unexpected repar
tee the laugh was so strong against me that I found myself
muzzled. My coUeagues worked as hard as I : but a seventy-
horse power could not have moved the court. It was, however,
universally admitted that there was but one httle pomt against
us out of a hundred which the other side had urged : that point
too had only three letters in it : yet it upset ad our arguments :
that tahsmanic word " law" was more powerful than two
speeches of five hours each ; and, by the unanimous concurrence
of the court and jmy, Theophdus Swift was found guilty of writ
ing, pubhshing, and undoubtedly proving, that certain parsons,
FelloAvs of Dublin University, had been Uving (conjugaUy) with
certain persons of an entirely different sex : and, in consequence.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 231
he was sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment in his Majesty's
gaol of Newgate, where he took up his residence with nearly two
hundred and forty felons and handy pickpockets.
My poor visionary friend was in a sad state of depression ;
but heaven had a banquet in store for him which more than
counterbalanced aU his discomfitures : an incident that I ready
think even the oracle of Delphos never would have thought of
predictmg. The Eev. Doctor Burrows was, of all, the most inveterate enemy
and active prosecutor of my friend Theophdus : he was one of
those who, in despite of God and Queen Ehzabeth, had faUen in
love, and united his fortunes and person with the object of it,
and thereby got -within the chcle of SwKt's anti-morahsts. This
reverend person determined to make the pubhc hate Theophilus
as much as he did hhnseK ; and forgetting the doctrine of hbel,
and the precedent which he had himseK just helped to establish,
set about to slay the slayer, and -write a quietus for Theophdus
SwKt durmg the rest of his days ! Thus, hugging himseK in aU
the luxury of complete revenge on a faUen foe. Dr. Burrows pro
duced a Ubel at least as unjustffiable against the prisoner as the
prisoner had promulged against him : and havmg printed, pub
hshed, and chculated the same, his Eeverence and Madame con
ceived they had executed full justice on the enemy of marriage
and the clergy. But, alas ! they reckoned without theh host :
no sooner had I received a copy of this redoubtable pamphlet,
than I hastened to my friend TheophUus, whom, from a state of
despondency and unhappiness, I had the pleasure, in haK-an-hour,
of seeing at least as happy and more pleased than any Idng in
Europe. It is unnecessary to say more than that I recommended
an immediate prosecution of the Eev. Doctor Burrows, for a false,
gross, and mahcious hbel against Theophdus SwKt, Esq. Never
was any prosecution better founded, or more clearly and effec
tuaUy supported; and it took complete effect. The reverend
prosecutor, now culprit in his turn, was sentenced to one-haK of
S^wKt's term of imprisonment, and sent off to the same gaol.*
* What would the world be without Ireland ! without its social and profes
sional annals ! But the sequel obscures all inventions, fables, and fancies.

232 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
The learned FeUows were astounded ; the university so far
disgraced ; and TheophUus SwKt immediately pubUshed both
trials, with observations, notes critical and historical, etc.
But, alas ! the mortification of the reverend FeUow did not
end here. On arriving at Newgate, as the governor iaformed
me, the Doctor desired a room as high up as could be had, that
he might not be disturbed whilst remaining in that mansion.
The govemor informed him, with great regret, that he had not
even a pigeon-hole in the gaol unoccupied at the time, there
being two hundred and forty prisoners, chiefly pickpockets, many
of whom were waiting to be transported ; and that, tdl these
were got rid of, he had no private room that would answer his
reverence ; but there was a very neat and good chamber m which
were only two beds — one occupied by a respectable and pohte
gentleman ; and K the Doctor could manage in this way mean
whde, he might depend on a preference the moment there shoidd
be a vacancy. Necessity has no law ; and the Doctor, forced to
acquiesce, deshed to be sho-wn to the chamber. On entering, the
gentleman and he exchanged bows, but in a moment both started
involuntardy at sight of each other. On one was to be seen the
suppressed smde of mental triumph, and on the other the grin of
mortification. But SwKt, naturaUy the pink of poUteness, gave
no reason for an increase of the Doctor's chagrm. As the sun
beams put out a fire, so did a sense of his foUy flash so strong
upon the Doctor's reason, that it extiaguished the blaze of his
anger ; and the governor ha-ving left them, in a short time an
eclaircissement took place between these two feUow-lodgers hi a
room fourteen feet by twelve ! I afterwards learned that they
jogged on very weU together tiU the expiration of theh sentences,
and I never heard of any Ubel published by either the Doctor or
Swift afterwards.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 233

PULPIT, BAE, AND PAELIAMENTAEY ELOQUENCE.
A COMPARATIVE scale of the talents of the celebrated men of my
day I have frequently attempted, but never -with success. Though
I knew most of them both in private and pubhc, my mind
could never settle itseK to any permanent opinion on so comph-
cated a subject. Nevertheless, I quite agree with the maxim of
Pope — "that the noblest study of manldnd is man !" and, conse
quently, the analysis of human character has ever formed one of
my greatest amusements, though aU endeavours to reduce my
observations to a system have proved decidedly idle. Hence, I
have at times grewn out of humour with the science altogether,
and made up my mind that there never was a more unprofitable
occupation than that of determining a public character whdst
the mdividual stdl Uved. It is only after the grave has closed on
men — when they can change no more, and theh mortal acts are
for ever terminated — that theh respective natures become truly
developed. This is a reflection that must surely force itseK upon
the mind and heart of every observant man.
The depressions of adversity generaUy leave the ostensible
character pretty much as it appeared origmady, save that it
occasionaUy throws out either abjectness or fortitude, and that
talent is sometimes eUcited in a greater proportion than the
sufferer was imagined to possess. But I have always seen high
prosperity the true and almost mfalhble touchstone : and since
I have had leisure to observe the world, its effects upon my feUow-
countrymen have proved more remarkable than upon the people
of any other country — and indeed, in many instances, thoroughly
ridiculous. Eloquence, a first-rate quality in my scale, is that for which
the Irish were eminently celebrated. But the exercise of this

234 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
gKt depends on so many accidental chcumstances, and is withal
so much regulated by fashion, that its decline is scarcely sm-pris-
ing. So few possess it, indeed, that it has become the interest
of the bar, the only body in Ireland accustomed to extempore
public speaking, to undervalue and throw it into the background,
which they have effectuaUy succeeded in doing. A duU fedow
can cry "Come to the point!" as wed as the most eloquent
declaimer. Pulpit eloquence is, in my opinion, by far the most import
ant of any : the interest tn which it is enhsted is, or ought to be,
tremendously absorbing ; and m consequence, it is deserving of
the highest and most persevering cultivation. Yet, what is the
fact ? — Unless we resort to the temples of sectarianism, and run
a risk of being annoyed by ¦vulgarity and fanaticism, we have
Uttle or no chance of meeting "with a preacher who seems in
earnest Polemical controversy may be carried on between
priests without the least tincture of hearty zeal, and bishops
may think it quite sufficient to leave the social duties and car
dinal vhtues to work theh way by force of theh o'wn mtrinsic
merits ; yet these are the points whereon a reaUy eloquent and
zealous minister might rouse the attention of his hearers to effec
tual purpose, and succeed in detaching them from methodistical
cant and rant, which, at present, merely in consequence of appa
rent heartiness and a semblance of insphation, draw away both
old and young — both sensible and ilUterate — from the tribe of
cold metaphysical expositors who affect to dlustrate the Christian
tenets in our parochial congregations.
Nothing can better exemplKy the latter observations than a
circumstance connected ¦with the island of Guernsey. There are
seven Protestant churches in that island, where the usual service
is gone through in the usual manner. A parcel of Methodists,
however, professed themselves discontented ¦with our Litany,
estabhshed a different form of worship, and set up a meeting
house of theh own, giving out that they could save two souls for
every one that a common Protestant parson could manage. In
due time they inveigled a set of fanatic persons to form a singing-

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 235
choh, which employed itself in chanting from morning tid night ;
every ghl who wanted to put her voice in tune being brought by
her mother to sing psalms -with the Methodists. This vocal bait,
mdeed, took admhably ; and, in a short time, the congregations
of the seven churches might have been well accommodated in
one. On the other hand, although the meeting-house was en
larged, its portals even were thronged on every occasion, multi
tudes, both inside and out, aU squaUing away to the very stretch
of their voices.
The dean and clergy, perceivmg clearly that singing had
beaten praying out of the field, made a due representation to the
bishop of Winchester, and requested the instructions of that right
reverend dignitary how to bring back the wayward flock to theh
natural folds and shepherds. The bishop repUed, that as the
desertion appeared to be in consequence of the charms of melody,
the remedy was plam — namely, to get better singers than the
Methodists, and to sing better tunes ; in wbich case the Protest
ant churches would, no doubt, soon recover every one of their
parishioners. Not ha'ving for many years heard a sermon m Ireland, I am
not aware of the precise state of its pulpit oratory at present.
But of this I am quite sure, that poUtics and controversy are not
the true attributes of Christian worship ; and that, whenever
they are made the topic of sphitual discourse, the whole congre
gation would be justffied in dozing.
I have heard many parsons attempt eloquence, but very few
of them, in my idea, succeeded. The present Archbishop of
Dublin* worked hard for the prize, and a good number of the
* Dr. Magee, author ofa text-book on the ""Atonement," used in the Dublin
University. Dr. Whately succeeded him, a man of profoundly heavy parts, but
who aflfected "wit. He -wrote an excellent book on " Ehetoric," was very volumi
nous on trifles ; but whatever English he had was thoroughly consumed by the
"Rhetoric.'' He was as kind a man as ever breathed ; and his good name will
long survive his miserable puns and more stupid pamphlets. These remarks can,
by no means, lessen the value of his volumes to the library of a country clergy
man, who wUl find in them much common sense, and many maxims of moderation
and Christian benevolence.
If the archbishop was not witty himself, he was often, without his suspecting

230 barrington's personal sketches
Fellows of Dublin CoUege tried their tongues to httle purpose :
in truth, the preaching of one minister rendered me extremely
fastidious respecting eloquence from the pulpit.
This individual was Dean Kirwan, now no more, who pro
nounced the most impressive orations I ever heard from the
members of any profession, at any era. It is true, he spoke for
effect, and therefore dhected his flow of eloquence according to
its apparent influence. I have listened to this man actuaUy
with astonishment ! He was a gentleman by bh-th, had been
educated as a Eoman Cathohc priest, and officiated some time in
Ireland in that capacity ; but afterwards conformed to the Pro
testant church, and was received ad eundem. His extraordinary
powers soon brought him into notice ; and he was promoted by
Lord Westmorland to a hving ; afterwards became a dean ; and
would, most probably, have been a bishop ; — ^but he had an hi-
tractable turn of mind, enthely repugnant to the usual means of
acquiring high preferment. It was much to be lamented, that
the independence of principle and action which he certainly pos
sessed was not accompanied by any reputation for phUanthropic
quaUties. His justly high opinion of himseK seemed to over
whelm every other consideration.
Dr. Kirwan' s figure, and particularly his countenance, were
not prepossessing ; there was an ah of discontent in his looks,
and a sharpness in his features, which, in the aggregate, amounted
to something not distant from repulsiveness. His manner of
preaching was of the French school : He was vehement for
a whde, and then, becoming, or affecting to become, exhausted,
he held his handkerchief to his face : a dead sdence ensued ; he
had skid to perceive the precise moment to recommence ; and
another blaze of declamation burst upon the congregation, and
another fit of exhaustion was succeeded by another pause. The
it, the cause of wit in others. Some one was extolUng the matchless firmness of
the British squares in sustaining the furious charges of the French Guards at
Waterloo. " -What was their coolness to ours ?" exclaimed Dr. X. " Had they to
stand the shock of Whately's charge, as we did the other day, they'd soon dis
perse, I promise you."

OF HIS OWN times. 237
men began to wonder at his eloquence, the women grew nervous
at his denunciations. His tact rivaded his talent ; and, at the
conclusion of one of his finest sentences, a "celestial exhaustion,"
as I heard a lady caU it, often terminated his discourse abruptly.
If the subject was charity, every purse was laid largely under
contribution. In the church of St. Peter's, where he preached
an annual charity sermon, the usual coUection, which had been
under £200, was raised by the Dean to £1100. I knew a gentle
man myself, who threw both his purse and watch into the
plate! Yet the oratory of this celebrated preacher would have
answered m no other profession than his own, and served to
complete my idea of the true distinction between pulpit, bar,
and parliamentary eloquence. Khwan in the pulpit, Curran at
the bar,* and Sheridan in the senate, were the three most
effective orators I ever recodect, in theh respective departments.
Kirwan's talents seemed to me to be Umited entirely to
elocution. I had much intercourse with him at the house of
Mr Hely, of Tooke's Court. Whdst residing in Dublin I met
him at a variety of places ; and my over-wrought expectations,
ia fact, were a good deal disappointed. His style of address
had nothiag engaging in it ; nothiag either dignffied or graceful.
In his conversation there was neither sameness nor variety —
ignorance nor iaformation ; and yet, somehow or other, he
avoided insipidity. His amour propre was the most prominent
of his superficial quaUties ; and a bold, manly iadependence of
mind and feeUng, the most obvious of his deeper ones. I beUeve
he was a good man,f K he could not be termed a very amiable
* Of those two, this is wonderful praise ; and coming from Barrington, the
greatest master of skiUed composition of all his. contemporaries, must be accepted
almost unreservedly. But the effect is one thing ; the critical quality another ;
and the property in the thought another. Most of Kirw-an's ideas were born in
France ; Curran's were all the progeny of the soil.
t Is not this a contradiction ? Pie has been flatly represented before as defi
cient in philanthropic quaUties ; how can he be a good man who wants the chief
characteristics of goodness ? Kirwan was as unfeeling and selfish a fellow as ever
lived.

238 barrington's personal sketches
one ; and learned, although niggardly in communicating what
he knew. I have remarked thus at large upon Dean Kirwan, because
he was by far the most eloquent and effective pulpit orator I
ever heard, and because I never met any man whose character I
felt myself more at a loss accurately to pronounce upon. It has
been said that his sermons were adroitly extracted from passages
in the celebrated discourses of Saurin, the Huguenot, who
preached at the Hague, grandfather to the late attorney-general
of Ireland. It may be so ; and in that case aU I can say is, that
Kirwan was a most judicious selector, and that I doubt if the
eloquent -writer made a hundredth part of the impression of his
eloquent plagiarist.
I should myself be the plagiarist of a hundred -writers, K 1
attempted to descant upon the parUamentary eloquence of
Sheridan.* It only seems necessary to refer to his speech on
Mr. Hasting' s trial ;t at least, that is sufficient to decide me as
to his immense superiority over all his rivals m splendid decla
mation. Most great men have theh individual points of supe
riority, and I am sure that Sheridan could not have preached,
nor Khwan have pleaded. Curran could have done both ; Grat
tan neither ; but, in language calculated to rouse a nation,
Grattan, whdst young, far exceeded either of them.
I have often met Sheridan, but never knew him mtimately.
He was my senior and my superior. Whdst he was in high
* Most felicitously said. The opinion concluding this paragraph is very dis
criminative and just. One thing is wanting. In Sheridan's fire the nation would
miss Grattan's sincerity. Soul never glo-sved more ardently than in Grattan ; and
his tongue was true to it.
t I had an opportunity of knowing that Mr. Sheridan was offered £1000 for
that speech by a bookseller, the day after it was spoken, pro-vided hc would -write
it out correctly from the notes taken, before the interest had subsided ; and yet,
although he certainly had occasion for money at the time, and assented to the
proposal, he did not take the trouble of -writing a line of it ! The pubUsher was
of course displeased, and insisted on his performing his promise : upon whieh
Sheridan laughingly replied in the vein of Falstaff : — " No, Hal! — were I at the
strappado, I would do nothing by compulsion!" He did it at length — but too
late ! — and, as I heard, was (reasonablj"" enough !) not paid, — {Author's note.)

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 239
repute, I was at laborious duties : whilst he was eclipsing every
body in fame in one country, I was labouring hard to gain any
in another. He professed whiggism : I did not understand it,
and I have met very few patriots who appear to have acted even
on theh own definition thereof*
* The foUo-wing extract so comprehensively and closely embraces some of the
finest characteristics of popular oratory and orators, that I readily append it here,
in compUance with the wish and recommendation of an eloquent lawyer who is
also a sound critic.
"Without being in the least influenced by popular opinion, I do not hesitate
to assign to O'Connell an honourable place amongst the best orators of any
age. He cannot, indeed, be compared in detail to any particular one who is worthy
of him. In many features, however, and these the most noble, he resembles
Demosthenes and Brougham.
" In strength and clearness he is equal to either. Of all three the gra,nd charac
teristic is energy ; but the energy of the Celt, though more active, is less intense
than that of the Greek, and more intense than that of the Scot, though not so
durable or expansive. Of method, which, although less an endowment than an
acquisition, is yet albeit a property of great wit, they had an equal share, but from
different sources, and displaying a different organism. In his arrangement,
Demosthenes observes the rhetorical rules without being buithened or naiTowed
by them. Brougham, early fashioned by mathematical discipline, is almost
as systematic as a geometer. He keeps the subject always in view, but this
severity 'does not impoverish or straiten him, for the stores of his learning are
so vast and so various that his materials would embarrass, were it not for his skill
in disposing them. O'Connell is generaUy, even iu his set speeches, negligent
of method. He was,'not-withstanding, capable of laying down a judicious plan,
but he seems to have been impatient of the trouble. When he gave sufficient con
sideration to a subject, he put his materials into order with rapidity and success.
In general, he sought no more than a good beginning, and left the sequel to
chance ; for he depended on his adroitness in selecting, combining, and com
pounding, according to the demands of the occasion. But even on state occasions,
when he came forward, prepared and trimmed, he could ill conceal thc toga of
the pleader. Some of his ablest efforts are constructed on the scheme of a law
argument ; but it must be remembered that some law arguments are fine speci
mens of composition. "Whatever be the subject of disquisition, leai-ning will
always afford materials to give scope to method. In this respect Brougham had
the advantage over almost all the public men of his time, while the springs of
knowledge suppUed O'ConneU with but few streams to be skilfully conducted
into a common channel ; so that if, in the point under consideration, he appears
inferior to his iUustrious contemporary, it is rather from lack of means than of
ability. "In argument the Athenian convinces more by the loftiness of his manner

240 barrington's personal sketches
than the strictness of his logic ; and while he is not greater than the Briton in
force, he is less in phUosophical dignity. In dialectic power, the Hibernian is on
a level with either, but above both in acuteness and subtlety. Whilst in the
matter of the argument there may be much parity, in the conduct of it there is
little. Demosthenes is vehement, vituperative, insolent ; Brougham, impassioned,
haughty, or derisive ; O'ConneU, impetuous, abusive, or insinuating. The first is
never gay or embeUished ; the second, never indolent or frivolous ; the third is
always robust and busy — generaUy in a genial humour — and with a nosegay,
whether fresh or faded.
"VersatiUty renders O'Connell the most agreeable and entertaining. The
gain, however, which results from it, does not always compensate for the trifles
employed to support it. Many feel Demosthenes dry for want of those jets of
vivacity with which O'Connell sprinkles his parterre and refreshes his flowers ;
but, on the other hand, the former imparts an enthusiasm which renders one insen
sible of fatigue, and compels him to persevere to the end. O'Connell imderstood,
but perhaps undervalued, connection and continuity. He frequently breaks ofi'
to present you with pleasant scenery ; gives you time to contemplate the laud-
scape ; and then calls you back to resume the journey with regaled senses and
revived energy. Brougham does not draw you aside so often, or so capriciously ;
and when he does, it is not to lighten your burden, or to beguile your way, hut
to amplify the understanding — to iUustrate his proofs — to triple the Ught, and
to beautify the phUosophy. Demosthenes never deviates in search of fascinating
prospects and cheerful repose ; he is stern, unaccommodating, unmerciful. He
needs no rest himself, and gives you none. You are whirled to the destined
goal — out of breath, but exulting in the triumphant career. Listen for a moment
to any of the three, and your wiU is shorn of her -wings ; she is no longer at liberty,
yields to the imperious authority of the Greek, the powerful sorcery of the Scot,
or the soft seduction of the Irishman.
' ' In imagination, that most rare and fructifying gift of the mind ; which
creates, animates, and illumines ; which engenders tender sentiments, quickens
noble passions, and sheds celestial odour over the soul — in imagination. Brougham
holds the flrst place, and Demosthenes the second ; though both must give way
to Burke, and even he to Sheridan. But in fancy, exuberant in aU delights,
which is often hard to he distinguished frora imagination, to O'CoimeU rightfuUy
belongs the not undisputed sceptre.
"Demosthenes, O'ConneU, and Brougham, are equally remarkable for the
solidity of their inteUect ; but in the quality of comprehensiveness the last has
the largest share. O'Connell shows his knowledge of the human heart more fre
quently than either of the others. If he did not understand mankind better, he
accommodated himself to them more ; and was better fitted to do so by the
pliancy of his passions and the bent of his opinions. Consequently, he used men,
and especially the ignorant, more successfully. In his sway over the affections,
he is approached by neither ; and taking into consideration the different audience,
and different circumstances, whatever we may have to deduct from his oratory
must be recompensed by our praise of him as an orator. In one respect he stands

OF Ills OWN TIMES. 241
conspicuous — he is almost the only man that ever flattered democracy, and -visibly
improved it.
"Each attains to the same height, but not with the same facility or gi-andeur.
Demosthenes leaves the earth most naturally, mounts most swiftly, moves with
the ease of instinct ; but at every cleaving of his wings the poles thunder. When
his rivals soar, they gain the empyrean by a succession of mighty efforts, and with
the resounding as of mighty waters ; Brougham keeping his nndazzled eye fixed
on the orb of day ; and O'Connell surveying the smiling fields of air.
" Between the merits of the two modern masters, whoever ventures to decide,
let him not forget, that whUe the genius of Brougham was aided by consummate
art, O'ConneU's fame rests upon his genius alone. What the one produced was
the mature progeny of patient gestation ; that of the other, a sudden birth. The
one brought his works to perfection by repeated touches of skill ; the other, to
wonderful exceUence by a single felicitous stroke. In Brougham we admire the
majestic proportions and classical symmetry ; in O'Connell, the cluster of youth
ful charms, adorning manly strength, and glowing with life and joy." — Townsend
Young's History of Ireland.

VOL. I.

242 barrington's personal sketches

QUEEN CAEOLINE.
I HAVE often mused on the unfortunate history and fate of the
late Queen Caroline. It is not for me to discuss the merits or
demerits of her case, or to give any opinion on the conduct of
the ruhng powers in the business. I shaU only observe, that
though it was not possible to foresee such events as subsequently
took place, I had, from the time of my being presented to that
Princess by Lord Stowed, felt an unaccountable presentiment
that her destiny would not be a happy one.
Upon the close of the " deUcate investigation," a dra-wing-
room of the most briUiant description was held at St. James's,
to -witness the Princess's* reception by her Majesty, Queen
Charlotte. I doubt if a more numerous and sparkUng assemblage
had ever been coUected in that ancient palace ; curiosity had no
smaU share in dra-wing it together.
The sun was that day m one of his most glaring humours ;
he shone -with unusual ardour into the windows of the antique
baU-room ; seeming as K he wished at the same moment to gdd
and melt down that mass of beauty and of diamonds which was
exposed to all his fervour. I was necessitated to attend in my
official dress : the frizzled peruke, loaded -with powder and
pomatum, covering at least haK the body of the sufferer, was
wedged in amongst the gaudy nobles. The dress of every person
who was so fortunate as to come in contact with the wigs, hke
the cameleon, instantly imbibed the colour of the thing it came
in coUision with ; and after a short intimacy, many a fuU-dress
* A genitive very awkward to gentlemen. The vulgar laudably accommodate
the organs of speech by putting the accent on the second syllable. I hope, for
their own sakes, this hint will be taken.

of his own TIMES. 243
black received a large portion of my silvery hue, and many a
splendid manteau participated in the materials which render
powder adhesive.
Of all the distressed beings in that heated assembly, I was
most amused by Sh Vicary Gibbs, then attorney-general. Hard-
featured and impatient — his wig a-wry — his solids yielding out
aU theh essence — he appeared as if he had just arisen, though
not hke Venus, from the sea. Every muscle of his angular
features seemed busdy employed in forming hieroglyphic impre
cations ! Though amused, I never pitied any person more —
except myseK. Wedged far too tight to permit even a heaving
sigh at my o-wn imprisonment, I could oidy be consoled by a
perspective view of the gracious Charlotte, who stood stoutly
before the throne like the stump of a baronial castle to which
age gives greater dignity. I had, however, in due rotation, the
honour of being presented, and of kissing the back of her
Majesty's hand.
I am, of course, profoundly ignorant of her Majesty's manner
in her family, but certainly her pubhc receptions were the most
gracious m the world : there could not be a more engaging, kind,
and condescendmg address than that of the Queen of England.
It is surprising how different a Queen appears in a drawing-room
and in a newspaper.
At length the number of presentations had dimiaished the
pressure, and a general sth m the crowd announced something
uncommon about to take place. It was the approach of the
Princess of Wales.
Whoever considered the painfully delicate situation in which-
this lady was then placed, could not help feehng a sympathy for
her apparent sufferings. Her father, the Duke of Brunswick,
had not long before expired of his wounds received at Jena ;
and after her own late trials it was, I thought, most inauspicious
that deep mourning should be her attire on her reception — as K
announcmg at once the Ul-fate of herseK and of her parent : her
dress was decked with a multiphcity of black bugles. She

244 barrington's personal sketches
entered the drawing-room leaning on the arm of the Duke of
Cumberland, and seemed to require the support. To her it
must, m truth, have been a most awful moment. The subject of
the investigation, the loss of her natural protector, and the
doubts she must have felt as to the precise nature of her recep
tion by the Queen, altogether made a deep impression on every
one present. She tottered to the throne : the spectacle grew
interesting in the highest degree. I was not close ; but a low
buzz ran round the room that she had been received most
kindly, and a few moments sufficed to show that this was her
o^wn impression.
After she had passed the ordeal, a circle was formed for her
beyond the throne. I wished for an introduction, and Lord
Stowed, then Sh WiUiam Scott, did me that honour. I had felt,
in common with everybody, for the depression of spirits with
which the princess had approached her Majesty. I, for my part,
considered her in consequence as fud of sensibdity at her o^wn
situation ; but, so far as her subsequent maimer showed, I was
totady deceived. The trial was at an end, the Queen had been
kind, and a paroxysm of spirits seemed to succeed and mark a
strange contrast to the manner of her entry. I thought it was
too sudden and too decisive : she spoke much, and loud, and
rather bold : it seemed to me as if ad recoUection of what had
passed was rapidly vanishmg. So far it pleased me to see re
turning happmess ; but stiU the kind of thing made no favour
able impression on my mind. Her chcle was crowded ; the
presentations numerous ; but, on the whole, she lost ground in
my estimation.
This incident proved to me the palpable distinction between
feeling and sensibihty ; words which people misconstrue and
mingle without discrimination. I then compared the two ladies.
The bearing of Queen Charlotte certainly was not that of a
heroine in romance, but she was the best-bred and most graceful
lady of her age and figure I ever saw ; so kind and concdiatiag
that one could scarcely beUeve her capable of anything but

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 245
benevolence. She appeared plain, old, and of dark complexion ;
but she was unaffected, and commanded that respect which
private vhtues ever wid obtain for pubhc character. I Uked her
vastly better than her daughter-in-law. Indeed I never could
reconcde myseK, in any instance, to extra-natural complexions.
I returned from the drawing-room with a hundred new
thoughts, excited by circumstances which had never occurred to
me on any former occasion, and by the time I arrived at the
Adelphi had grown from a courtier into a phdosopher ! Even
there, however, my lucubrations were doomed to interruption.
From my chamber at the Caledonian, the beauty of the animated
Thames quite diverted my mind from the suffocating splendour
under the pressure of which I had passed three hours. The broad
unruffled tide, reflecting the rich azure of the firmament, awakened
in my mind ideas of subhmity which would have raised it
towards heaven, had not dinner and a new train of observation
unfortimately recaUed me to worldly considerations, winch I
faacied I had for one evening completely laid aside. Another
scene of equal brUliance in its own way soon riveted my atten
tion. It was a VauxhaU evening, and thousands of pamted and
gdded skiffs darted along under my windows, crowded -with flashy
ghls and tawdry cits, aU enveloped in their hohday glories, and
appearing to vie in gaudiness with the scuUers of which they
were the cargo. Here elegance and vulgarity, rank and mean
ness, -vice and beauty, mingUng and moving over the waters, led
me to the mortKying reflection, that this apparently gay and
happy company probably comprised a portion of the most miser
able and base materials of the British population.
I soon became fatigued by the briUiant sameness of the
scene ; and a sort of spurious phdosophy again led me back to
the Queen's drawing-room, and set me reflecting on numerous
subjects in which I had not the remotest interest ; but as soU
tary reasoning is one of the very greatest incentives to drowsi
ness, that sensation soon overcame aU others, the sensorial powers
graduaUy yielded to its influence ; and in a short time the

246 barrington's personal sketches
Queen and the Princess of Wales, the drawing-room and the
gdded boats, the happy-lookiag girls and assiduous gaUants, aU
huddled together in most hreverent coiKusion, sheered off (as a
seaman would say) ; and left a sound and refreshing slumber in
place of aU that was great and gay, dazzUng and splendid, m the
first metropoUs of the European hemisphere.

OF HIS OWN TIMES, 247

LOED YELVEETON AND THE BAE.
Mr William Fletcher, since chief-justice of tbe Common
Pleas ; Mr. James Egan,* afterwards judge of KUmainham ; and
Mr Bartholomew Hoare, one of the King's Counsel, were cer
tahdy the three most intractable men of their profession, though
of characters very dissimdar,
Mr Fletcher, a clever man and exceUent la-wyer, had a surly
temper, combined -with a kind heart and an honest free-spirited
principle, which never forsook him either in private hfe or as a
pubhc functionary. He was hard-featured, and although morose
in court, disposed to jocularity in society. His appetites seemed
to inchne towards gourmandise, and, in fact, toward voluptuous
ness, generaUy speaking. As a judge, he was upright, uninflu
enced, and humane.
* This should be Mr. John Egan, who thus distinguished himself in the memor
able debate of 1799. I quote from Sir Jonah's Rise and Fall of the Irish
Nation : —
' ' Mr, Egan, chairman of the County Dublin, a coarse, large, bluff, red-faced
Irishman, was the last who entered. His exultation knew no bounds. As
No, 110 was announced, he stopped a moment at the bar, flourished a great stick
over his head, and cried out, ' I'm a, hundred and eleven ! ' He then quietly sat
down, and burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter — aU heart. Never was
there a finer picture of genuine patriotism. He was very far from being rich, and
had an offer to be made a Baron of the Exchequer -with £3600 a-year if he would
support the Union, which he indignantly refused to do. On any other subject
he would have supported the government."
I knew " BuUy" Egan's family well. They were left poor, and some indigent.
He was offered a fat Uving for his brother, the Eev. Carbery Egan ; but this worthy
poor curate suffered for his relative's honesty. His -widow and children became
inmates of the Widows' Asylum, once near Mercer's Hospital. On my representa
tion, supported as it was by Mr. Arthur Hume of the Treasury, the late George
Putland, who has not left his like behind, would have permanently provided
for them ; but the misconduct of the son, and the insanity of the daughters,
baffled his benevolent purpose.

248 barrington's personal sketches
Mr Egan, a huge, coarse-looking, red-faced, boisterous fedow,
to as tender a heart as ever was enclosed in so rough an outside
added a number of other good quahties which it would be too
much to expect should exist without some adoy. His maimers
were naturaUy gross rather than refined ; and it was very curious
to see him, in fuU dress, endeavour to affect good-breeding. He
had immense business at the bar at the time Lord Yelverton
presided in the Court of Exchequer ; and he executed that busi
ness zealously and successfuUy, with, however, as occasion
served, a sprinkUng of what we term balderdash. In fact, he
both gave and received hits and cuts with infinite sphit, and in
more ways than one ; for he had fought a good number of duels,
aud had the good fortune to escape -with an unpierced skin.
Natural death was his final enemy.
Bartholomew Hoare was the inferior of both. He -wrote
weU, but spoke most disagreeably ; — ^his harangues bemg senten
tious and diffuse, though not destitute of point. He was dl-
tempered, arrogant, and rude, -with a harsh expression of counte
nance ; but withal what was termed " an able man." In point
of inteUect, indeed, he perhaps exceeded Egan ; but in heart I
must rank him inferior. Egan was popular -with the most
talented men of his profession, Hoare could uever attain popu
larity in any shape.
These are merely fugitive sketches of three men of the Irish
Bar who, I knew not why, were generaUy named together, but
whose respective careers termmated very differently. Bartho
lomew Hoare died in great distress.
The chief baron. Lord Yelverton, got, one day after dinner,
at his house at Fair-view, into an argument with Egan, which
in truth he always courted, to enhance the merriment of the
company. Hoare never heard an argument iu his hfe between
auy two persons, or upon any subject, wherein he did not long
to obtrude ; and Fletcher, if he thought he had conceived a good
hit, was never easy tdl he was deUvered of it. On the evening
in question, the trio had united in contesting with their host all
manner of subjects, which he had himseK designedly started, to

of his own times. 249
excite them. He was in high glee, and played them off in a
style of the most superior -wit and cleverness, assisted by much
classic quotation. By successive assaults he upset the three, who
were as less than one in the hands of Yelverton, when he chose
to exert himseK. The evening certainly turned out among the
pleasantest I ever passed in society.
Lord Yelverton's -wit and humour had a sort of weight and
sohdity m it, which emitted a fervid as wed as a blazing light.
I opened not my lips ; had I mingled in their disputation, I
should not only have got my fuU portion of the tattooing, as they
termed it, but should also have lost, in becoming an actor, the
gratffication of -witnessmg the scene. At length Lord Yelverton
-wi'ote under the table with a pencd the fodowing words, and
sent the scrap by a servant to me : — " Barrington, these feUows
wdl never stop ! Pray -write somethmg about them, and send
it to me." I left the room, and having ¦written the following-
parody in a hand to resemble printing, sent it m to his Lordship
sealed as a letter : —
Three pleaders, in one vulgar era born,
Mount Melic, Cork, and Blarney did adorn ;
In solemn surliness the first surpass'd,
The next in 'balderdash — iu both the last :
The force of Nature could no further go ;
To make a third, she joined the former two !
Lord Yelverton, not expecting the lampoon to come in form
of a letter, was greatly diverted ; it was read over and over again,
amidst roars of laughter Everybody entertained his o-wn con
jecture respectmg the writer, and each barrister appropriated to
himseK one of the three characteristics. I was not at aU sus
pected that night, since I had in nowise mterfered, and my brief
absence had not been noticed : but next day in court, it somehow
came out. Nobody but Hoare was vexed, and hhn I sdenced by
threatenmg that I would -write another epigram on him solus K
he provoked me.
Egan, however, professed annoyance at me from some cause
or other in the course of that day. He was never remarkable

250 barrington's personal sketches
for the correctness of his Enghsh. In speakmg to some motion
that was pending, he used the word obdurate frequently. I
happened to laugh ; Egan turned round, and then addressing
himseK to the chief baron, " I suppose, my Lord," said he honi-
cady, " the gentleman laughs at my happening to pronounce the
word obdurate wrong."
" No, my Lord," rephed I, " I only laughed because he hap
pened to pronounce it right."
I never heard him utter the word obdurate afterwards.

of his own times. 251

ME. NOECOT'S ATTEMPT AT SUICIDE.
Me. Noecot was an eccentric Irish barrister, the uncertaiaty of
whose fate has given rise to a vast number of surmises : the last
authentic account described him as a Turk seUiag rhubarb and
opium m the streets of Smyrna ! When the Duke of Eichmond
was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland he was a great favourite at the
Castle revels. He could drink as stoutly as the Duke himseK,
touch the piano as well as a lady, or gamble as deeply as any of
the gentlemen : he could jest even better than Sir Charles Ver
non, and drove, in his entertainments, aU other bachelors out of
the field. Hence, his reception was so flattermg, that he dis
carded aU reflection, and at length found his purse empty, his
resources dry, his profession unproductive, his estate melted
do-wn, and his reputation not improved. The noble Duke gave
him no place but at his dinner-table, while smdes and lemonade
were the favours of the Duchess : the courtiers turned their faces
towards him whdst he was rich, and their backs when he had
gro-wn poor : his best puns began to pass without notice, his
mimicry excited no laughter, and his most high-flown comph-
ments scarcely received a curtsy.
A fat, hearty, con-vivial fedow does not perceive what is termed
the half-cut near so soon as your lank, sensitive, thorough-paced
goer : and Norcot was not completely undeceived as to his o'wn
decUnmg influence until, one evening, having lost much more
money than he could pay, he began to consider how to make up
the deficiency. He had very httle cash left anywhere, and was
not versed in the borrowing system : so he thought he would
wait a few days to see what Providence would be pleased to do
for him ; and as he had never thought it worth his while to rely
upon her before, he did not know exactly in what way to court

252 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
her assistance. Irish gentlemen so chcumstanced are very apt
to suppose that they may find Providence, or in other words good
luck, at the bottom of two or three bottles of -wine, and accord
ingly never omit the apphcation thereunto. Norcot pursued the
usual course, and certainly made away -with that number at least
next night "with the Duke. But alas ! this kind of exorcism was
unsuccessful in his instance, and he was necessitated to return
home, at three o'clock in the morning, sobered by the very lassi
tude of excess, and maddened by reflection On arri-ving, he
threw himseK mto his arm-chah, his mind became confused, his
reason wandered : he thought of resources — there were none ! —
but the extent of his poverty and debts bemg as yet not pubUcly
kno-wn, he thought of borrowing. The plan, however, seemed a
doubtful one ; and, besides, he was deterred from trying it by his
pride. He next thought of prison ; this inflamed his brain stdl
farther, and drove him upon the fearful alternative of suicide !
Here a door of retreat seemed open, although whither it led he
knew not : but he had neither heart to bear up agamst misfortune,
nor rehgion to assuage it ; he had no steady friend to advise
Avith, and no hberal one to reheve him.
He sank for a moment into an enviable state of msensibdity.
His servant Thomas, a broad, faithful Irishman, but who never
had known the meaning of any kind of feelings, except corporeal
ones, stood by surprised at the change m his master's manner
" Thomas !" exclaimed the desponding Norcot, " Thomas, are my
pistols charged?"
" Eight wed, plase your honour," repUed Thomas.
"The flints, Thomas?"
" I'm sure they'd strike fire enough to burn a barrel of gun
powder, K your honour wanted to blow it up !"
"Bring them hither !" said Norcot.
Thomas did not approve of this order, and answered, " Sure
your honour can't want them tdl dayhght, anyhow !" But, upon
Norcot's authoritatively wa-ving his hand, he brought the pistols,
wondering what his master wanted -with them.

OF HIS OWN TIMES, 253
" Thomas," said the desperate man, " you were always faith
ful!" "And why should not I?" said Thomas.
"WeU, then, Thomas, I can Uve no longer !"
" Thunder and oons. Master ! why not ?"
" 'Tis enough to say, Thomas," pursued the hapless barrister,
takhig up one of the pistols, " that I am determined to die."
Thomas never ha-ving seen such a catastrophe, was quite
alarmed, but ad his eloquence was in vain : ha-ving wept and
argued to no purpose, he ran towards the -wmdow to shout mur
der, but it was fast. Norcot, who was an unbeUever, shuddering
meanwhUe less at the idea of the crime he contemplated than at
that of eternal anidhUation, which his tenets induced him to an
ticipate, said, " Thomas, take one of these pistols and put it to
my head ; apply the other here, to my heart ; fire both together,
and put me out of my pain — for die I wiU !"
Thomas mused and bethought himseK, and then answered,
" I am -wiUing to do the best I can for so good a master, but
truly I can't shoot, and may be I'd miss your honour ! hadn't I
better go to some gentleman of your acqaintauce that I heard
you say never missed anybody — and who would do it cleverly ?"
" None but you," returned the unyielding desperado, " shall
shoot me, Thomas !"
"I never shot anybody!" cried the servant: "but," taking
up the pistols, " your honour says, one at your head : may I
crave what part of it ?"
"There," said Norcot, pointing to his temple; "the other
through my heart !"
"And which side is your honour's heart to-night?" hiquhed
the ddatory valet.
"Here !" repUed Norcot : "now cock and fire !"
Thomas, who had been planning ad this time how to get rid
of the busmess, now seemed on the sudden to recodect himself
"But, master dear!" said he, "when you were going to fight a
duel -with that Captain O'Brien, at the Cove of Cork, your
honour took out Surgeon Egan -with you, sajdng that no gentle-

254 barrington's personal sketches
man should risk his Ufe without a doctor : so, K you plase, I'U
just step over first and foremost, and fetch Surgeon Macklin here
for fear of accidents !" Without waitiag any reply, he iastantly
stepped out of the room as fast as he could, taking the pistols
with hhn, and leavmg Norcot in astonishment : he actuaUy went
to the doctor, told him the story, and brought him over to reason
-with his master, who remained in a state of perfect distraction.
However, the fit somewhat subsided ; and the incidents being
thus placed in a novel and ridiculous point of view had the most
extraordinary effect on Norcot's mind. He recovered the use of
his reason, and calm reflection succeeded the burning frenzy.
He could scarcely avoid smding at Thomas ; and relating the
adventure himself, pretended it was only a trick of his own to
terrKy his servant. But when he was left to himseK he con
sidered what was best to be done, and adopted it. He made up
ad the means he could, and got into a place of secrecy, where he
awaited the result of the " Chapter of Accidents," and the efforts
of his great friends to procure him some employment for subsist
ence ; nor was he long unprovided for. He was appointed to
an office, I thiak at Malta, but where he soon disgraced himself
in a manner which for ever excluded him from society. Being
now lost past aU redemption, he fled to the Morea, and from
thence to Constantinople, where he renounced the cross and
became a Mussulman. But even there he was not fortunate :
he has for some time been lost sight of, and exhibits a most
edifying lesson to the dissipated and unbehevmg. After com
mencing the world with as plausible prospects of success and
respectabihty as most men of his day, Norcot, if dead, has died
a disgraced and blasphemous renegade ; thus confirming an
observation of mine, throughout life, that a ivee-thinker is ever
disposed to be also a iiee-actor, and is restrained from the
gratification of aU his vices only by those laws which pro-vide a
punishment for theh commission.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 255

ANECDOTES OF IEISH JUDGES.
Before and for some thne after I was caUed to the bar, the
bench was in some instances very curiously manned as to judges.*
The unKorm custom had previously been to send over these
dignitaries from England ; — partly with a view to protect the
property of absentees, and partly from political considerations :
and the mdi^^dduals thus sent appeared as K generaUy selected
because they were good for nothing else. In truth, tUl the
judges of Ireland were made independent of the cro"wn in 1784,
no EngUsh barrister who could earn his bread at home would
accept a precarious office in a strange country, and on a paltry
salary. Such Irishmen, also, as were in those days constituted
puisne judges, were of the inferior class of practising barristers,
on account of the last-mentioned chcumstance.
A ¦vulgar idea, most ridiculous in its nature, formerly pre
vaded m Ireland, of the infalUbiUty of judges. It existed at an
early period of my observations, and went so far even as to con
ceive t that an ignorant barrister, whose opinion nobody probably
would ask, once placed on the judicial bench, immediately
changed his character, appropriated the lore of ad the books in
his hbrary, by vhtue of his office. The great seal and the
king's patent were heldt to saturate his brain in haK-an-hour
* This is a -violent descent; "manned as to judges !" It is an obvious at
tempt at what is caUed a popular style ; but the people who are pleased with such
attempts are also debased by them. The author was at one time fastidious as to
phrase, and accordingly the tone of The Rise and Fall is dignified throughout.
That book Moore greatly admired for its Uterary merits. There is indeed much
mannerism in it. When I observed that the structm-e ran up Uke the rounds of
aladder, Moore replied — "Ay, but, like Jacob's, that ladder runs up to heaven ! "
t " An idea went to conceive " is neither Irish nor English,
t Technical, i.e. shop.

256 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
with aU that wisdom and learning which he had in vain been
trying to get even a peep at during the former portion of
his Ufe. Law had long been a system of precedents, without any
question among the judges whether such precedents were right
or wrong. To show the great improvement of the Irish bench, and the
rapid advance m the administration of justice in the law courts,
I wdl subjoin a few dlustrative anecdotes.
Baron Monckton, of the Exchequer, an importation from
England, was said to understand black letter and red ¦wine better
than any who had preceded him in that situation. At aU events,
being often vino deditus, he on those occasions described the
segment of a chcle in making his way to the seat of justice !
This learned baron was longer on the bench than any other in
my recoUection. I have also in later days enjoyed the intimacy
of a very clever weU-informed man, and a sound lawyer, who
(Uke the baron) rather indecorously indulged in the juice of the
grape, and whom Lord Clare had made a judge for some services
rendered to himseK. The newspapers eulogised this gentleman
very much for his singular tender-heartedness, saying — So great
was the humanity of Judge Boyd, that when he was passing
sentence of death upon any unfortunate criminal, it was ob
servable that his Lordship seldom faded to have "a drop in
his eye."*
I remember a barrister bemg raised to the Irish bench, who
had been previously well kno-wn by the ingenious surname of
* Baron Green observed upon this — "Why, Crampton can't sentence a mau
to be hanged without 'a drop in his eye.' Crampton was .nn earnest teetotaller.
When Dr, -Whately heard of Ci'ampton's conversion to Mathewism, he said —
" Well, water is a good thing to wash down law, but a very bad thing to wash it
up." This puts me in mind of a reaUy droU thing of the archbishop ; a lady having
asked the meaning of ariston men to hudor, he replied — ' ' Water is the best thing for
fish, sea-fights, and steam-eugines ! " The lady stared, asking, " Does it mean all
that, your gi-ace ?" " Oh ! " he cried with the complacency of a cherub, "there's
no getting meaning out of Greek without a paraphrase. You understand, ma'am."

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 257
CounseUor Necessity, — because "necessitas non legem habet;"
and certainly, to do him no more than justice, he consistently
merited the cognomen after his elevation as weU as before.
Old Judge Henn, a very exceUent private character, was
dreadfuUy puzzled on chcuit, about 1789, by two pertinacious
young barristers, who flatly contradicted one another as to the
"law of the case." At last they unanimously requested his
Lordship to decide the point.
"How, gentlemen," said Judge Henn, "can I settle it be
tween you ? — ^You, sh, positively say the law is one way, and
you, turning to the opposite party, as unequivocally affirm that
it is the other way. I -wish to God, Bdly Harris (to his registrar
who sat underneath), I knew what the law really was !"
" My Lord," repUed Bdly Harris most sententiously, " if I
possessed that knowledge, I would ted your Lordship with a
great deal of pleasure !"
"Then we'U save the point, Bdly Harris," exclaimed the
judge. A more modem justice of the Irish King's Bench, in giving
his dictum on a certain wdl case, absolutely said, " he thought it
very clear that the testator mtended to keep a life interest in the
estate to himself." The bar did not laugh outright ; but Curran
soon rendered that consequence mevitable. "Very true, my
Lord," said he, " very true ! testators generady do secure Ufe
interests to themselves. But, in this case, I rather think your
Lordship takes the will for the deed."*
The chief-justices were, however, generady accomphshed
men, and of first-rate talent as la-wyers ; and the chancedors,
with few exceptions, both able and dignffied — qualities which
Lord Lifford was the last to unite in an eminent degree.
On the subject of judges, I cannot omit a few anecdotes of a
very different description from the foregoing, which occurred in
my own time.
Baron Power was considered an exceUent la-wyer, and was
altogether one of the most curious characters I have met m
* Dv/rissimwm I
VOL. I. S

258 barrington's personal sketches
the profession. He was a morose, fat fedow, affecting to be
genteel : he was very learned, very rich, and very ostentatious.
Unfortunately for himseK, Baron Power held the office of usher
of the Com-t of Chancery, which was prmcipady remunerated by
fees ou monies lodged in that court. Lord Clare, then chancel
lor, hated and teased him, because Power was arrogant himself,
and never would succumb to the arrogance of Fitzgibbon The
chanceUor had a certaia control over the usher ; at least he had
a sort of Ucense for abusing bim by innuendo, as an officer of the
court, and most unremittmgly did he exercise that hcense.
Baron Power had a large private fortune, and always acted in
office strictly according to the custom of his predecessors ; but
was attacked so -virulently and pertmaciously by Lord Clare,
that having no redress, it made a deep impression, first on his
pride, then on his mind, and at length on his intedect. Lord
Clare fodowed up his blow, as was conimon with bim ; he made
incessant attacks on the baron, who chose rather to break than
bend, and who, unable longer to stand this persecution, deter
mined on a prank of aU others the most agreeable to his adver
sary ! The baron -walked quietly down early one fine momiog
to the south wad, which runs into the sea about two mdes from
Dubhn ; there he very deUberately fiUed his coat-pockets -with
pebbles, and walked into the ocean, which, however, did not
retain him long, for his body was thrown ashore -with great con
tempt by the tide.*
Had the matter ended here it might not have been so very
remarkable ; but the precedent was too respectable and mviting
not to be fodowed by persons who had any particular reasons
for deshing strangulation, as a judge drowning himseK gave the
thing a sort of dignified legal Mat! It so happened that a Mi".
Morgal, then an attorney residing in Dublin, of large dimensions,
and with shm-bones curved like the segment of a rainbow, had,
for good and sufficient reasons, long appeared rather dissatisfied
-with himseK and other people. But as attorneys were considered
much more hkely to induce theh neighbours to cut theh throats
* The sequel discloses that the judge committed siucide.

of his own times. 259
than to execute that office upon themselves, nobody ever sus
pected Morgal of any intention to shorten his days m a volun
tary manner.
However, it appeared that the signal success of Baron Power
had excited in the attorney a great ambition to get rid of his
sensibdities by a similar exploit. In Comphance with such his
impression, he adopted the "very same preliminaries as the baron
had done, walked off by the very same road to the very same
spot, and, ha-vmg had the advantage of kno-wing, from the coro
ner's inquest, that the baron had put pebbles into his pocket
with good effect, adopted likewise this judicial precedent, and
committed himseK in due form, and with equal success, into the
hands of Father Neptune.
As a sequel to this httle anecdote of Crosby Morgal, it is
worth observmg that, though I do not recodect any of the
attorneys immediately foUo'wing his example, four or five of his
clients very shortly after started from this world of theh o-wn
accord, to try, as people then said, if they could any way over
take Crosby, who had left them no conveniences for staymg long
behmd him.*
Mr. Wdham Johnson, the present judge,'f was the only one
of my brother barristers whose smiles were not agreeable to me
when we went chcuits together. I Uked his fro-wns extremely,
because they were generaUy -very sincere, extremely picturesque,
' Some years ago, a suitor in the Court of Exchequer complained in person to
the Chief Baron, that he was qiute ruinated, and could go on no further !
" Then,'' said Lord Yelverton, " you had better leave the matter to be decided by
reference." — " To be sure I will, my Lord," said the plaintiff : " I've been now at
law thirteen years, and can't get on at aU ! I'm wiUing, please your Lordship, to
leave it aU either to one honest man or two attorneys, whichever your Lordship
pleases.'' " You had better toss up for fhat," said Lord Yelverton, laughing. Two
attorneys were, however, appointed, and, in less than a year, reported that " they
could not agree :" both parties then declared they would leave the matter to a
very honest farmer — a neighbour of theirs. They did so, and, in about a week,
came haud-in-hand to the court, thanked his Lordship, and told him their neigh
bour had settled the whole affair square and straight to {heir entire satisfaction.
Lord Yelverton used to teU the anecdote -with great glee.— {Author's note.)
t Long dead.

260 barrington's personal sketches
and never niggardly bestowed. But his paroxysms of good hu
mour were occasionady so awkward, I frequently begged of him to
cheer up our society by gettiag into a Uttle passion ; and some
times took the Uberty of puttmg him mto one myseK, to make
him more agreeable.
Be it remembered, however, that this was before Mr. Wdham
Johnson became a judge ; and I cannot say what effect an inocu
lation by Lord Norbury's temperament may have had upon his
constitution. But I frequently told him that either physic or
-wranghng was indispensably necessary, to keep his bde from
stagnation. Though divers anecdotes occur to me of my said friend. Judge
Wdham Johnson, I do not conceive that many of them can be
very interesting out of court, particularly after he becomes de
funct, which nature has certainly set do-wn as a "motion of
course." One or two, however, which connect themselves with
my egotistical feehngs, shad not be omitted. At the same time,
I assure hhn, that I by no means approve of our late brother
Daly's method of reasoning, who, on his speaking rather inde
corously of Mr. WiUiam Johnson, in his absence, at the Bar-mess
on circuit, was tartly and very properly asked by the present
Mr Justice Jebb, " Why he would say such thmgs of Mr.
Johnson behind his back?" "Because," rephed Mr. Daly, "I
would not hurt his feelings by saying them to his face"
I often reflect on a most singular chcumstance which occurred
between Johnson and me, as pro-ving the incalculabUity of what
is caUed m the world " fortune," which, in my mmd, cannot have
a better definition than " The state lottery of nature.'' My friend
is the son of a respectable apothecary, in Fishamble Street, Dubhn,
and was caUed to the bar some few years before me ; but the
world being bUnd as to our respective merits, I got hnmediately
mto considerable business, and he, though a much wiser man and
a much cleverer la-wyer, got none at aU. Prosperity, in short,
deluged me as it were ; when suddenly I feU iU of a -violent
fever on chcuit, which nearly ended my career. Under these
circumstances, Johnson acted by me in a most Idnd and friendly

of his own times. 261
manner, and insisted on remaining -with me, to the neglect of his
own concerns. This I would not aUow ; but I never forgot the
proffered kindness, and determined, K ever it came within my
power, to repay his ci-vihty.
The next year I was restored to health, and my career of good
fortune started afresh, whdst poor Johnson had stdl no better
luck. He remamed assiduous, friendly, aud good-natured to me ;
but at the same time he drooped, and told me at Wexford, in a
state of despondency, that he was determined to quit the bar and
go into orders. I endeavoured to dissuade bim from this, because
I had a presentiment that he would eventuaUy succeed ; and I
fahly owned to him that I doubted much K he were mild
enough for a parson
In about two years after I was appointed Kmg's Counsel.
My stuff go-wn had been, so far, the most fortunate one of our'
profession, and Johnson's the least so. I ad^vised him to get a
new go^wn ; and shortly after, in the whim of the moment, fancy
ing there inight be some seeds of good luck stickmg to the folds
of my old stuff after I had quitted it for a silken robe, I dis
patched a humorous note to Johnson, together ¦with the stuff
gown, as a mark of my gratitude for his attentions, begging he
would accept it from a friend and weU-wisher, and try K wearing
it would be of equal service to bim as to me.
He received my jocose gift very pleasantly, and in good part ;
and, laughing at my conceit, put on the go^wn. But, whatever
may become of prepossessions, certain it is that from that period
Johnson prospered ; his busmess graduaUy grew larger ; and, in
proportion as it increased, he became, what they caU in Ireland,
high enoiigh to everybody but the attorneys ; and thus my friend
WilUam Johnson trudged on through thick and thin to the
Parhament House, mto which Lord Castlereagh stuffed him, as
he said hhnseK, " to put an end to it." However, he kept a clear
look-out, and now sits m the place his elder brother Judge Eobert
had occupied, who was rather smgularly 'wwjudged for ha-ving
Gobbettised Lord Eedesdale, as -wdl hereafter appear.
Old Mr. Johnson, the father of these two gentlemen, when

262 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
upwards of sixty, procured a diploma as physician — to make the
family genteeler. He was a decent, orderly, good kind of apothe
cary, and a very respectable, though somewhat ostentatious
doctor ; and, above aU, a good, orthodox, hard-praying Protest
ant. I was much amused one day after dmner at Mr Hobson's,
at Bushy, near Dublin, where the doctor, Curran, myseK, and
many others were in company. The doctor deUghted in teUing
of the successes of his sons. Bob, BiU, Gam, and Tom the attorney,
as he termed them : he was fond of attributing Bob's advance
ment rather to the goodness of Pro-vidence than that of the
Marquess of Downshhe ; and observed, most parentaUy, that he
had brought up his boys, from theh very chUdhood, -with " the
fear of God always before their eyes." " Ah ! 'twas a fortunate
circumstance indeed, doctor," said Curran, "very fortunate in
deed — that you frightmsd them so early."
One of the most honourable and humane judges I ever saw
upon the Irish Bench was the late Justice KeUy of the Common
Pleas. He -R^as no common man. Numerous anecdotes have
been told of him : many singular ones I myseK witnessed;* but
none which did not do credit to some just or gentlemanly feeling.
He had practised several years in the West Indies ; and studying
at the Temple on his return, was in due season admitted to the
Irish bar, to the head of which he rose -with universal approbation.
At the time the Irish insisted on a declaration of theh inde
pendence. Judge Kedy had attained the high dignity of Prime
-Serjeant, a law-office not kno-wn in England : in Ireland the
Prime Serjeant had rank and precedence of the attorney and
solicitor-general. On the government of Ireland first opposing
that declaration of independence, Kedy, from his place in Parha
ment, declared " he should consider it rather a disgrace than an
honour to wear the Prime Serjeant's go-wn under a ministry
which resisted the rights of his country!" and immediately sent
in his resignation, and retired to the rank of a private barrister.
Among such a people, and in consequence of such conduct,
"" An eye-witness of an anecdote is a rare fellow. Those simple memorials of
Kelly are very consoling after the Johnsonian disappointment.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 263
it is useless to attempt describing his popularity. His business
rose to an extent beyond his powers. Nobody was satisfied who
had not Tom Kedy for his advocate in the courts ; no suitor was
content who had not Tom Kedy's opinion as to title ; ad pur
chasers of property must have Tom Kedy's sanction for theh
speculations. This en-viable old man lived splendidly, yet saved a
large fortune. At length it was found so unpopular to leave him
at the bar, that he was first appointed Sohcitor-General and then
mounted on the bench of the Common Pleas, where, having sat
many years, he rethed to his beautiful country residence near
Stiadbady, Queen's County, and Uved, as a country gentleman,
in hospitable magnfficence.
After Judge KeUy had assumed the bench, the pubhc began
to find out that his legal knowledge had been overrated. His
opinions were overruled and his deductions esteemed dlogical ;
in short, he lost altogether the character of an infalUble lawyer,
but had the happiness of thinking he had confirmed his reputa
tion for honour, justice, and integrity. He used to say, laugh
ingly, " So they find out now that I am not a very stanch
la-wyer. I am heartdy glad they did not find it out thirty years
ago." He loved the world, and this was only gratitude, for the
world loved bim ; and nobody ever yet enjoyed his existence
with more cheerfulness and composure. " Egad ! " he used to
say, " this world is wheeling round and round quite too fast to
please me. For my part, I'd rather be a young shoe-boy than an
old judge." (Who would not? says the author.) He always
most candidly admitted his legal mistakes. I recodect my friend
WUham Johnson once pressing him very fiercely to a decision in
his favour, and stating as an argument (in his usual peremptory
tone to judges he was not afraid of), that there could be no
doubt on the point, — ^precedent was imperative in the matter —
as his Lordship had decided the same points the same way twice
before. " So, Mr. Johnson," said the judge — looking archly, shKting
his seat somewhat, and shrugging up his right shoulder ; " so.

264 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
because I decided wrong t-wice, Mr. Johnson, you'd have me do
so a third time ? No, no, Mr. Johnson, you must excuse me.
I'll decide the other way this bout !" And so he did.
The anecdotes of his quaint humour are in fact innumerable,
and some of his charges quite extraordinary. His profile was
very Uke Edmund Burke's. He had that sharp kind of nose
which gives a singular cast to the general contour ; but there was
always an appearance of droUery lurkmg in his countenance.
No man could more justly boast of carrying about him proofs of
nationahty, as few ever had the Irish dialect stronger. It was
in every word and every motion ! Curran used to say he had
the brogue in his shoulders. If Judge KeUy conceived he had
no grounds to be ashamed of his country, she had stdl less to be
ashamed of him. He was calculated to do credit to any land.*
I also had the pleasure of being acquainted with Mr. Arthur
WoKet intimately, afterwards Baron Kdwarden and Chief-Justice
of Ireland. This gentleman had, previously to his advancement,
acquhed very high eminence as an equity lawyer. He was
much my senior at the bar.
WoKe had no natural genius, and but scanty general informa
tion. His talents were originaUy too feeble to raise him by theh
unassisted efforts into any pohtical importance. Though patron
ised by the Earl of Tyrone, and supported by the Beresford
aristocracy, his rise was slow and gradual, and his promotion to
the office of Sohcitor-General had been long predicted, not from
his abiUty, but in consequence of his reputation as a good-hearted
man and a sound la^wyer.
On the elevation of Mr. John Fitzgibbon to the seals, Mr.
Wolfe succeeded him as Attorney-General, the parhamentary
duties of which office were, however, far beyond the reach of his
oratory, and altogether too important for his proportion of intel
lect ; and hence he had to encounter difficulties which he was
¦* This unaffected tribute to unaffected goodness is beyond aU praise.
f Of a very respectable family, whose property is in the County Kildare,
near SaUins. They were related to Theobald Wolfe Tone. The author of
" The Burial of Sir John Moore" was a nephew of the judge. Captain Theobald
Wolfe is the present representative.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 265
unable successfuUy to surmount. The most gKted members of
his O'wn profession were, in fact, then linked with the first-rate
pohtical talents of the Irish nation, to bear down those measures
which it had become Mr. WoKe's imperative official duty to
originate or support.
In the smgular character of Mr. WoKe there were strange
diversities of manner and of disposition. On first acquaintance,
he seldom faded to make an unfavourable impression ; but his
arrogance was only apparent, his pride innoxious, his haughtiness
theoretical. In society, he so whimsicady mixed and nungled
solemn ostentation ¦with playful frivohty, that the man and the
boy, the judge and the jester, were generady alternate.
Stdl, Kdwarden's heart was right and his judgment sufficmg.
In feehng he was quick, in apprehension slow. The union of
these quahties engendered a sort of spurious sensibihty, which
constantly led him to apprehend offence where none was ever
intended. He had a constant dread of being thought petulant,
and the excitement produced by this dread became itseK the
author of that techy irritation which he so much deprecated.*
Lord Kdwarden, not perceiving the true distinction between
pride and dignity, thought he was supportmg the appearance of
the one, when m fact he was only practismg the formahty of the
other ; and, after a long mtercourse -with the world, he every day
evinced that he knew any one's else character better than his
o-wn. As Attorney-General during a most trying era, his moder
ation, justice, and discretion, were not less evident than was his
strict adherence to official duties.
In the celebrated cause of the Kmg agamst Hea-vy, in the
King's Bench, Mr. Curran and I were Heavy's counsel, and
afterwards moved to set aside the verdict on grounds which we
considered to form a most important point, upon legal prin
ciples. Curran had concluded his speech, and I was stating what I
considered to be the law of the case, when Lord Kdwarden,
* This word, so incorrectly used here, is, I think, always employed correctly
in The Rise and Fall.

266 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
impatient and fidgetty, interrupted me : " God forbid, Mr Bar
rington," said he, " that should be the law !"
" God forbid, my Lord," answered I, " that it should not be
the law."
" You are rough, sh," exclaimed he.
" More than one of us have the same infirmity, my Lord."
" I was right, sh," said he.
" So was I, my Lord," returned I, unbendingly.
He fidgetted again and looked haughty and sour. I thought
he would break out, but he only said, " Go on, sh — go on, sh!"
I proceeded : and, whdst I was speaking, he -wrote a note,
which was handed me by the officer : I kept it, as affording a
curious trait of human character. It ran thus : — •
" Barrmgton — ^You are the most impudent fedow I ever met.
Come and dme -with me this day at six. You wdl meet some
strangers, so I hope you -wiU behave yourseK, though I have no
reason to expect it ! K."
To conclude this sketch : Lord Kdwarden was, m grain, one
of the best men I ever knew ; but, to be liked, it was necessary
he should be kno-wn. He had not an error, to counterbalance
which some merit did not exhibit itseK. He had no -wit, though
he thought he said good things : as a specimen of his punning,
he used to cad Curran " 6-ooseberry."*
The instabdity of human affahs was lamentably exemphfied
in his Lordship's catastrophe : — his life was prosperous, and
deservedly so ; his death cruel and unmerited. There scarcely
exists in record a murder more mhuman or more wanton than
that of the chief justice.t
* He could say better. He asked a brother barrister why he led him such a
way, and received for answer, "For a short cut ; circuitus evitandus." "Avery
unsuitable motto for a la-wyer, " cried Wolfe. A parson, who was entering on some
vindictive proceedings against one of his o'wn parishioners, ha-ving met Wolfe in
the hall of the courts intently looking into a brief, inquired jocularly, " -What is
¦written in the law ? How readest thou ?" " Thou shalt love thy neighbour as
thyself," was the prompt and solemn reply. The proceedings were stopped.
t It was not, however, preconcerted, as will be seen.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 267
In 1803, on the evening when the partial but sanguinary
insurrection broke out in Dublm, organised by Mr. Emmet,
Kdwarden had retired to his country-house near the metropoUs,
and was tranquiUy enjoying the society of his family, when he
received an order from government to repair to town on particu
lar business : in fact, the police, the secretaries, and all attached
to executive, had continued incredulous and supine, and never
believed the probabdity of a rising untd it was at the very point
of commencing.* Kdwarden immediately ordered his carriage, and, attended
only by his nephew, a clergyman, and one of his daughters, pro
ceeded to Dublin without the least suspicion of violence or in
terruption. His road, however, lay through a wide and long
street, wherein the rebels had first assembled ; and, previously
to Kdwarden's arrival, had commenced operations. Before his
Lordship could conceive or had time to ask the cause of this
assemblage, he was in the midst of their ranks ; hemmed in on
every side by masses of armed ruffians, there was no possibihty
of retreat ; and without being conscious of a crime, he heard the'
yeUs of murder and revenge on every side around him, and per
ceived that he was lost beyond the power of redemption.
A general shout ran amongst the insurgents of " The Chief-
Justice ! The Chief- Justice !" Their crime would have been the
* This is not strictly true. Mr. Walter Locke, a respectable paper-stainer, an
honest man, but a savage bigot, although he had a superstitious esteem for popish
women, from whom he selected two admirable wives, was cautioned on the morn
ing of the Saturday of the outbreak against going to Thomas Street that evening
by one of his workmen, who was finishing a house for him there, and left off work
in order to prepare for action. Mr, Locke had an immediate communication with
the proper functionary in the Castle, and succeeded in keeping his man back from
the riot. Locke had his only son piked to death in 1798 ; and was the last sur
vivor of Emmet's jurors. He was a remarkable example of the pernicious influence
of party or religious hate. He was not only honest but moral, and was one of the
few whose sense of honour shrinks from a convenient lie. He was frank ; a little
stern ; very firm to his friends, among whom were several Catholics. Yet that
man more than once assured me that if any papist were tried before him on a
charge of high treason, he would find him guUty on the indictment merely, except
'he knew him. Mr. Locke's information was the cause of the order.

268 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
same in either case, but it was aUeged that they were mistaken
as to the person, concei^ving it to be Lord Carleton, who, as justice
of the Common Pleas, had some years before rendered himself
beyond description obnoxious to the disaffected of Dublia, ia
consequence of havmg been the judge who tried and condemned
the two CounseUors Sheares, who were executed for treason, and
to whom that nobleman had been testamentary guardian, by the
wUl of their father. The mob thought only of him ; and Lord
Kdwarden fed a victim to theh revenge against Lord Carleton.
The moment the cry went forth, the carriage was stopped,
and the door torn open. The clergyman and Miss WoKe got out
and ran : the latter was suffered to escape ; but the pikemen
pursued, and ha^ving come up with Mr. Wolfe, mangled and
murdered, m a horrid manner, as fine and moffensive a young
gentleman as I ever knew.
Hundreds of the murderers now surrounded the carriage,
ambitious only who should first spdl the blood of a chief-justice ;
a multitude of pikemen at once assaded him, but his woimds
proved that he had made many efforts to evade them. His hands
were lacerated aU over, in the act of resistance ; but, after a long
interval of torture, near thhty stabs in various parts of his body
mcapacitated him from struggling further with his destmy. They
dragged hhn into the street ; yet, when conveyed mto a house,
he was stdl sensible, and able to speak a few words, but soon
after expired.
Certain events which arose out of that cruel murder are sin
gular enough. Mr. Emmet, a young gentleman of great abdities
but of nearly frantic enthusiasm, who had been the organ and
leader of that partial rnsurrection, was son to the state physician
of Ireland, Doctor Emmet. Some time after the unfortunate
event, he was discovered, arrested, tried, and executed On his
trial, Mr. Plunket was employed to act for the crown, ¦with which
he had not before been connected, but was soon after appomted
Solicitor-General The circumstances of that trial were printed
and are no novelty ; but the result of it was a paper which ap
peared in Cobbett against Lord Eedesdale, and which was con-

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 269
sidered a UbeL* It was traced to Judge Eobert Johnson, of the
Common Pleas, who was in consequence pursued by the then
Attorney-General, Mr. O'Grady, as was generaUy thought by the
bar, and as I stdl thmk, in a manner contrary to aU estabUshed
principles both of law and justice. The three law-courts had the
case argued before them ; the judges differed on every point :
however, the result was that Judge Johnson, bemg kidnapped,
was taken over to England, and tried before the King's Bench at
Westminster, for a Ubel undoubtedly -written in Ireland, although
pubhshed by Cobbett in both countries. He was found gudty ;
but, on the terms of his resigning office, judgment was never
caUed for. As, however. Judge Joimson was one of those mem
bers of parhament who had voted for a union, the government
could not abandon hhn altogether. They gave him twelve hun
dred pounds a-year for Ufe ; and Eobert has lived many years
not a bit the worse for Westminster ; whilst his next brother, to
whom I have aheady paid my respects, was made Judge of the
Common Pleas. This is the Mr. Eobert Johnson who, from his
ha-ving been mducted into two offices, Curran used to style, on
adudmg to hhn m the House of Commons, " the learned barrack-
master." He was a wed-read entertainmg man, extremely acute,
an exceUent -writer, and a trustworthy, agreeable companion.
But there was something tart ia his look and address, and he was
neither good-natured m his manner nor gentlemanly in his ap
pearance, which chcumstances, altogether, combined with his
pubhc habits to render bim extremely unpopular. He did not
affect to be a great pleader, but he would have made a first-rate
attorney : he was very superior to his brother WiUiam in every
thing except law and arrogance, in which accomplishments
WUUam, when a barrister, certainly was entitled to a pre-eminence
which none of his contemporaries refused to concede him.
* It wiU he found in Cobbett's Annual Register for 1803. It is so carefully
worded as to bear evidence of the writer's knowledge of the law. It is not very
biting nor very eloquent ; and how any twelve men could be brought to consider
it u. libel can be accounted for only by the temper of the times, which tainted
judges and juries. Verily, our intelligence has humanised us a bit.

270 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES

THE FIEE-EATEES.
It may be objected that anecdotes of dueUing have more than
their due proportion of space in these sketches, and that no
-writer should pubUsh feats of that nature (K feats they can be
caUed), especiaUy when performed by persons holdmg grave
offices, or by public functionaries. The time, however, has
happily passed over when such detads might have proved very
reprehensible incentives to bad principles and bad passions.
There is no other species of detad or anecdote which so clearly
brings in iUustration before a reader's eye the character, genius,
and manners of a country, as that which exemphfies the dis
tinguishing propensities of its population for successive ages.
Much knowledge wdl necessarUy be gamed by possessmg such
a series of anecdotes, and by then gomg on to trace the decUne
of such propensities to the progress of civilisation in that class
of society where they had been prevalent. The number of grave
personages who appear to have adopted the national taste,
though m most instances it was undoubtedly before theh ele
vation to the bench that they signahsed themselves m smgle
combat, removes from me aU imputation of pitchiag upon and
exposiag any unusual fraUty ; and I think I may chaUenge any
country in Europe to show such an assemblage of gaUant judicial
and official antagonists at fire and sword as is exhibited even ia
the foUowmg Ust.*
* Single combat was formerly a very prevalent and favourite mode of adminis
tering justice in Ireland, was authorised by law, aud frequently conducted before
the high authorities and their ladies. The last exhibition of that nature which I
have read of was between two Irish gentlemen — Connor Mac Cormac O'Connor
and Teige Mac KUpatrick O'Connor. They fought with broadswords and skeens
(large knives), in the Castle of DubUn, in the presence of the archbishop and all
the chief authorities and ladies of rank. They had hewed each other for a full

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 27l
The lord chanceUor of Ireland, Earl Clare, fought the master
of the EoUs, Curran.
The chief-justice K.B., Lord ClonmeU, fought Lord Tyraw
ley (a pri-vy counseUor), Lord Llandaff, and two others.
The judge of the county of Dublin, Egan, fought the master
of the EoUs, Eoger Barrett, and three others.
The chanceUor of the exchequer, the right honourable Isaac
Corry, fought the right honourable Henry Grattan, a privy
counseUor, and another.
Medge, baron of the exchequer, fought his brother-m-law,
and two others.
The chief-justice C. P., Lord Norbury, fought Fire-eater
Fitzgerald, and two other gentlemen, and frightened Napper
Tandy, and several besides ; only one hit.
The judge of the prerogative court. Doctor Duigenan, fought
one barrister and frightened another on the ground.
The chief counsel to the revenue, Henry Deane Grady, fought
counseUor O'Mahon, counseUor CampbeU, and others : ad hits.
The master of the Eods fought Lord Buckmghamshhe, the
chief secretary, etc.
The provost of the university of Dubhn, the right honourable
Hely Hutchinson, fought Mr. Doyle, master in chancery (they
went to the plains of Minden to fight), and some others.
The chief-justice C. P., Patterson, fought three country gen
tlemen, one of them with swords, another with guns, and
wounded ad of them.
The right honourable George Ogle, a pri-vy councdlor, fought
Barney Coyle, a distdler, because he was a papist. They fired
eight shots and no hit ; but the second of one party broke his
own arm.

hour, when Mr. Mac Kilpatrick O'Connor, hai)pening to miss his footing, Mr.
Mac Cormac O'Connor began to cut his head off very expertly ¦^^dth his knife,
which, after a good deal of cutting, struggling, and hacking, he was at length so
fortunate as to effect ; and, having got the head clear off the shoulders, he handed
,it to the lords-justices (who were present), and by whom the head and neck was
most graciously received. — {Author's note.)

272 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
Thomas WaUace, K. C, fought Mr. O'Gorman, the CathoUc
secretary. CounseUor O'ConneU fought the champion of the Corpo
ration, Captain d'Est^rre : fatal to the champion of Protestant
ascendency.-* The coUector of the customs of DubUn, the honourable
Francis Hutchinson, fought the right honourable Lord Mount
morris. The reader of this abridged Ust f wUl surely see no great m-
decorum in an admiralty judge ha-ving now and then exchanged
broadsides, more especiaUy as they did not militate against the
law of nations.
However, it must be o^wned that there were occasionaUy very
peaceable and forgi-ving instances amongst the barristers. I saw
a very brave Idng's counsel, Mr Curran, horse-whipped most
severely in the public street, by a very savage nobleman. Lord
Clanmorris ; and another barrister was said to have had his eye
saluted by a moist messenger from Mr. May's Ups, in the body
of the House of Commons, t Yet, both those mciviUties were
arranged amicably, -without the aid of any deadly weapon what
soever. But the people of Dublin used to observe, that a judg
ment came upon Counsedor O'CaUaghan for havmg kept Mr.
Curran quiet m the horse-whipping affah, masmuch as his own
brams were UteraUy scattered about the gi'ound by an attorney
very soon after he had turned pacfficator.§
It is incredible what a smgular passion the Irish gentlemen,
though in general exceUent-tempered feUows, formerly had for
* Mr. O'Connell made no offer of a pension to the captain's -widow. He was
in no condition to do so at the time ; and, had he done so, he could easOy have
foreseen how insolently the offer would have been rejected as an ostentatious
pretence. I am fuUy informed on this matter.
t Two hundred and twenty-seven memorable and official duels have actuaUy
been fought during my grand climacteric— (..^irf/ioj-'s note.)
t Cuigue sua voluptas. Better to have -written, " Mr. May spat in a barrister's
face," etc.
§ Such is the elan of Sir Jonah's genius. Occasionally.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 273
fighting each other and immediately making friends again. A
duel was considered a necessary piece of a young man's edu
cation, but by no means a ground for future animosity -with his
opponent. One of the most humane men existing, an intimate friend of
mine, and at present a prominent pubhc character, but who had
frequently played both " hUt to hdt " and " muzzle to muzzle,"
was heard endeavouring to keep a httle son of his quiet : —
" Come, be a good boy ! Come," said my friend, " don't cry, and
I'd give you a case of nice Uttle pistols to-morrow. Don't cry,
and we'U shoot them all in the morning." I have heard the late
Sh Charles Ormsby strengthen the credibihty of this story by
an equady dlustrative one about a butcher in Nenagh who effec
tually stopped his son's tears by saying, — " Come, now, be a good
boy! don't cry, and you shad kill a lamb to-morrow!" — "Oh
yes, yes," said the chdd sobbing ; " Father, is the lamb ready ?"
Within my recoUection, this national propensity for fightmg
and slaughtering was nearly universal, originating m the sphit
and habits of former times. When men had a glo-wing ambition
to excel m aU manner of feats and exercises, they naturady con
ceived that manslaughter in an honest way (that is, not knowing
• which would be slaughtered) was the most chivahous and gentle
manly of aU theh accomphshments ; and this idea gave rise to an
assiduous cultivation of the arts of combat, and dictated the wisest
laws for carrying them into execution with regularity and honour.
About the year 1777 the Fire-eaters were in great repute m
Ireland. No young fedow could finish his education tdl he had
exchanged shots -with some of his acquaintances. The first two
questions always asked as to a young man's respectabihty and
quaUfications, particularly when he proposed for a lady, were, —
" What famdy is he of?"—" Did he ever blaze ?"*
* I have often heard "the blazing" inquired after one way or another. In
the southern Arcadia, Cork, the success of Orlando depended on the answers that
were given to — "Can he keep a table ? Is he a good judge of wine ?"
Mr. Henry White, who is stUl remembered in Cork as a -wit and a wag, was
once slUy interrogated by the bloomer most concerned, and whose purpose he had
reason to suspect — "Is he a fire-eater, Mr. White?" "A fire-eater, Glaucopis ?
VOL. L T

274 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
Tipperary and Galway were the ablest schools of the dueUiag
science. Galway was most scientific at the sword ; Tipperary
most practical and prized at the pistol : Mayo not amiss at
either ; Eoscommon and Shgo had many professors and a high
reputation in the leaden branch of the pastime.
When I was at the university. Jemmy Keogh, Buck Enghsh,
Cosey Harrison, Crowe Eyan, Eeddy Long, Amby- Bodkin,
Squhe Falton, Squhe Blake, Amby Fitzgerald, and a few others,
were supposed to understand the pomts of honour better than
any men in Ireland, and were constantly referred to.
In the North, the FaUows and the Fentons were the first
hands at it, and most counties could have then boasted their
regular point-of-honour men. The present chief-justice of the
Common Pleas was supposed to have understood the thmg as
wed as any gentleman m Ireland.
In truth, these oracles were in general gentlemen of good
connections* and most respectable families, other-wise nobody
would fight or consult them.
Every family then had a case of hereditary pistols, which
descended as an heir-loom, together with a long sdver-lulted
sword, for the use of theh posterity. Our famUy pistols, deno-
-Why, he'd cat as much fire as fifty sweeps ; but he can't get a second man from
this to Londonderry to join him." Glaucopis gave an inquisitive and amazed
look. ' ' You see he always contrives to reserve his distance according to the
Galway Rules (see 17th). He allows no blackguard to be beforehand with him, and
so wisely gives the first insult. This secures him the choice of distance. He settles
thus : tTi'o chairs four yards apart ; a brace of empty pistols ; a bason of fine drj'
powder, and another of bright buUets. " "Dreadful! what's the signal ? " "Both
seconds count five as fast or as slow as they please ; the moment ' five ' is heard,
the blazing begins, if ever."
¦* There was an association in the year 1782, a volunteer corps, which was
called the "Independent Light Horse." They were not confined to one district,
and none could be admitted but the younger brothers of the most respectable
famUies, They were all both "hilt and muzzle boys;" — and, that no member
should set hunseU up as greater than another, every mdividual of the corps was
obliged, on reception, to give his honour " that he could cover his fortune with
the crown of his hat,"
Eoscommon and Sligo then furnished some of the finest young fellows, fire-
eaters, I ever saw ; their spirit and decorimi were equally admirable, and their
honour and liberality conspicuous on all occasions, — {Author's note.)

OF HIS OWN TIMES, 275
mhiated pclters,* were brass (I beUeve my second brother has
them stiU) : the barrels were very long and point-blankers. They
were mcluded in the armoury of our ancient castle of BaUynakiU
iu' the reign of Elizabeth (the stocks, locks, and hah-triggers
were, however, modern), and had descended from father to son
from that period : one of them was named " sweet hps," the
other " the darling." The famdy rapier was called " sldver the
pullet" by my grand-uncle, Captam Wheeler Barrington, who
had fought wdth it repeatedly, and run through different parts of
their persons several Scots officers, who had chaUenged him ad
at once for some national reflection. It was a very long, narrow-
bladed, straight cut-and-thrust, as sharp as a razor, with a sdver
hdt, and a guard of buff leather iaside it. I kept this rapier as
a curiosity for some time ; but it was stolen durmg my absence
at Temple. I knew Jemmy Keogh extremely wed. He was considered
ia the maia a peacemaker, for he did not like to see anybody
fight but himseK ; and it was universady admitted that he never
kdled any man who did not wed deserve it. He was a plausible,
although black-looking fedow, with remarkably thick, long eye
brows closmg with a tuft over his nose. He unfortunately kdled
a cripple m the Phcenix Park, which accident did him great
mischief He was land-agent to Bourke of Ghnsk, to whom he
always officiated as second.
At length so many quarrels arose without sufficient provo
cation, and so many things were considered as quarrels of course,
which were not quarrels at aU, — that the principal fire-eaters of
the South saw clearly disrepute was likely to be thrown on
the science, and thought it fud time to arrange matters upon a
proper and rational footing ; and to regulate the time, place, and
other chcumstances of duelUng, so as to govern all Ireland on
one principle.
A branch society had been formed in DubUn termed the
"Knights of Tara," which met once a month at the theatre,
Capel Street, gave premiums for fencmg, and proceeded in the
'' Other names are bull-dogs, and barking-irons.

276 barrington's personal sketches
most laudably systematic manner. The amount of the admis
sion-money was laid out on sdver cups, and given to the
best fencers, as prizes, at quarterly exhibitions of pupds and
amateurs. Fencing -with the small-sword is certainly a most beautiful
and noble exercise : its acquhement confers a fine bold manly
carriage, a dignffied mien, a firm step, and graceful motion. But,
alas ! its practisers are now supplanted by contemptible groups
of smirkmg quadrdlers with unweaponed belts, stuffed breasts,
and strangled loms ! — a set of squeakmg dandies, whose sex
may be readily mistaken, or, I should rather say, is of no con
sequence.* The theatre of the Knights of Tara, on these occasions, was
always overflo'wing : — the combatants were dressed m close cam
bric jackets, garnished 'with ribbons, each wearing the favourite
colour of his fair one : bunches of ribbons also dangled at theh
knees, and roses adorned theh morocco sUppers, which had buff
soles, to prevent noise in their lounges. No masks or -visors were
used, as in these more timorous times ; on the contrary, every
feature was uncovered, and its inflections ad -visible. The ladies
appeared in full morning dresses, each handing his foU to her
champion for the day, and their presence animating the singular
exhibition. From the stage-boxes the prizes likewise were
handed to the conquerors by the fair ones, accompanied each
-with a -wreath of laurel, and a smde then more valued than a
hundred victories ! The tips of the fods were blackened, and
therefore instantly betrayed the hits on the cambric jacket, and
proclaimed without doubt the successful combatant. All was
decorum, gaUantry, sphit, and good temper.
The Knights of Tara also had a select committee to decide
on ad actual questions of honour referred to them ; — to reconcde
differences, if possible ; if not, to adjust the terms and continu
ance of single combat. Doubtful points were solved generaUy
* Their dancing days are over. Young gentlemen now take their places in
society in one or other of those distinguished classes — the muffs, the suiells, or
the snobs

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 277
on the peaceable side, provided women were not msulted or de
famed ; but when that was the case the knights were obdurate,
and blood must be seen. They were constituted by baUot,
somethmg in the manner of the Jockey Club, but without the
possibihty of bemg dishonourable, or the opportunity of cheating
each other.
This most agreeable and useful association did not last above
two or three years. I cannot teU why it broke up : I rather
thmk, however, the original fire-eaters thought it frivolous, or
did not hke their own ascendency to be rivaUed. It was said
that they threatened direct hostdities against the knights ; and
I am the more disposed to beheve this, because, soon after, a
comprehensive code of the laws and points of honour was issued
from the Southern fire-eaters, with directions that it should be
strictly observed by ad gentlemen throughout the kingdom, and
kept m their pistol-cases, that ignorance might never be pleaded.
This code was not chculated m print, but very numerous written
copies were sent to the different county clubs, etc. My father got
one for his sons ; and I transcribed most (I beUeve not aU) of it
into some blank leaves. These rules brought the whole busmess
of dueUmg into a focus, and have been much acted upon down
to the present day. They called them in Galway " the thirty-
sis-commandments." As far as my copy went, they appear to have run as
foUows : — EuLEs OF Duelling.
The practice of duelling and points of honour settled at Clonmell sum
mer assizes, 1777, by the gentlemen delegates of Tipperary, Galway, Mayo,
Sligo, and Roscommon, and prescribed for general adoption throughout
Ireland. Kdlb I. — The first offence requires the first apology, though the retort
may have heen more offensive than the insult : example ; — A tells B he is
impertinent, etc., B retorts, that he lies : yet A must make the first
apology, because he gave the first offence, and then (after one fire) B may
explain a-way the retort by subsequent apology.
Rule 2. — But if the parties would rather fight on, then, after two shots
each (but in no case before), B may explain first, and A apologise afterwards.

278 barrington's personal sketches
N.B.—T'he above rules apply to all cases of offences in retort not of a
stronger class than the example.
Rule 3. — If a doubt exist who gave the first offence, the decision rests
with the seconds : if they won't decide or can't agree, the matter must pro
ceed to t-wo shots, or to a hit, if the challenger require it.
Rule 4. — When the Ue direct is the first offence, the aggressor must
either beg pardon in express terms, exchange two shots previous to apology,
or three shots followed up by explanation ; or fire on till a severe hit be
received by one party or the other.
Rule 5. — As a blow is strictly prohibited under any circumstances
amongst gentlemen, no verbal apology can be received for such an insult ;
the alternatives therefore are — the oftender handing a cane to the injured
party, to be used on his own back, at the same time begging pardon ;
firing on until one or both is disabled ; or exchanging three shots, and
then asking pardon, without the proffer of the cane.
If swords are used, the parties engage till one is well blooded, disabled,
or disarmed ; or until, after receiving a wound, and blood being drawn, the
aggressor begs pardon.
N.B. — A disarm is considered the same as a disable : the disarmer may
(strictly) break his adversary's sword ; but if it be the challenger who is
disarmed, it is considered as ungenerous to do so.
In case the chaUenged be disarmed and refuses to ask pardon or atone,
he must not be hilled, as formerly ; but the challenger may lay his own
sword on the aggressor's shoulder, then break the aggressor's sword, and
say, " I spare your Ufe ! " The challenged can never re-vive that quarrel —
the challenger may.
Rule 6. — If A gives B the lie, and B retorts by a blow (being the two
greatest offences), no reconciliation can take place till after two discharges
each, or a severe hit ; after which, B may beg A's pardon humbly for the
blow, and then A may explain .simply for the Ue ; because a blow is never
allowable, and the offence of the Ue therefore merges in it. (See preceding
rule.) N.B. — Challenges for undivulged causes may be reconciled on the
ground after one shot. An explanation or the sUghtest hit should be suffi
cient in such cases, because no personal offence transpired.
Rule 7. — But no apology can be received, in any case, after the parties
have actually taken their ground, without exchange of fires.
Rule 8. — In the above case, no cbaUenger is obUged to divulge his
cause of chaUenge (if private), unless required by the chaUenged so to do
before their meeting.
Rule 9. — AU imputations of cheating at play, races, etc., to be con
sidered equivalent to a blow ; but may be reooncUed after one shot, on
admitting their falsehood, and begging pardon publicly.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 279
Rule 1 0. — Any insult to a lady under a gentleman's care or protec
tion to be considered as, by one degree, a greater offence than if given to
the gentleman personally, and to be regulated accordingly.
Rule 11. — Offences originating or accruing from the support of ladies'
reputation to be considered as less unjustifiable than any others of the
same class, and as admitting of slighter apologies by the- aggressor : this to
be determined by the circumstances of the case, but always favourably to
the lady. Rule 1 2. — In simple unpremeditated rencontres with the small sword,
or couteau-de-cliasse, tbe rule is — first draw, first sheath ; unless blood be
drawn ; then both sheath and proceed to investigation.
Rule 13. — No dumb-shootkig or firing in the air admissible in any
case. The challenger ought not to have challenged without receiving
offence ; and the challenged ought, if he gave offence, to have made an
apology before he came on tbe ground : therefore, children's play must be
dishonourable on one side or the other, and is accordingly prohibited.
Rule 14. — Seconds to be of equal rank in society with the principals
they attend, inasmuch as a second may either choose or chance to become
a principal, and equality is indispensable.
Rule 15. — Challenges are never to be delivered at night, unless the
party to be chaUenged intend leaving the place of offence before morning ;
for it is desirable to avoid all hot-headed proceedings.
Rule 16. — The chaUenged has the right to choose his o'wn weapon,
unless the challenger gives his honour he is no swordsman ; after which,
however, he camiot decline any second species of weapon proposed by the
challenged. Rule 17. — The challenged chooses his ground : the challenger chooses
his distance : the seconds fix the time and terms of firing.
Rule 18. — The seconds load in presence of each other, unless they
give their mutual honours they have charged smooth and single, wbich
should be held sufficient.
Rule 19. — Firing may be regulated — first, by signal ; secondly, by
word of command ; or, thirdly, at pleasure — as may be agreeable to tbe
parties. In the latter case, the parties may fire at their reasonable leisure,
but second presents and rests are strictly prohibited.
Rule 20. — In aU cases, a rniss-fire is equivalent to a shot, and a snap
or a non-cock is to be considered as a miss-fire.
Rule 21. — Seconds are bound to attempt a reconcUiation before the
meeting takes place, or after sufficient firing or hits, as specified.
Rule 22. — Any wound sufficient to agitate the nerves and necessarUy
make the hand shake, must end the business for that day.
Rule 23. — If the cause of meeting be of such a nature that no
apology or explanation can or wUl be received, the challenged takes his

280 barrington's personal sketches
ground, and caUs on the challenger to proceed as he chooses i in such cases,
firing at pleasure is the usual practice, but may be varied by agreement.
Rule 24. — In slight cases, the second hands his principal but one
pistol ; but in gross cases two, holding another case ready-charged in
reserve. Rule .25. — Where seconds disagree, and resolve to exchange shots
themselves, it must be at the same time and at right angles with their
principals, thus :— S

If with swords, side by side, witb five paces interval.
N.B.- — All matters and doubts not herein mentioned wUl be explained
and cleared up by application to the committee, who meet alternately at
Clonmell and Galway, at the quarter-sessions, for that purpose.
Ceow Rtan, President.
James Keogh, ) „ . ¦
' > aecretanes.
Amby Bodkin, )
Additional Galwat Articles.
Rule 1. — No party can be allowed to bend his knee or cover his side
with his left hand ; but may present at any level from the hip to the eye.
Rule 2. — None can either advance or retreat, if the ground be
measured; if no ground be measured, either party may advance at his plea
sure, even to touch muzzle ; but neither can advance on his adversary after
the fire, unless the adversary steps forward on him.
M.B. — The seconds on both sides stand responsible for this last rule
being strictly observed ; bad cases having accrued from neglecting of it.*
* A wisp of a witling, kno-wn as Annadale Hamilton, concocted two mortal
volumes on "DueUing," one of which was entituled "The Code of Honour."
They were pubUshed in Dublin about thirty years ago, at the expense of his
brother philanthropists, whom he ruined by incessant levies. The Uterary merits
of his books and pamphlets, combined with his importunities, rapidly dis
heartened fighting philanthropy and literary subscriptions. It is said he almost
annihilated the metropolitan contributions to the Bible Society. If the amount
of unemployed genius in Dublin were spiritedly patronised, it is thought it would
bring a million a-year into circulation, and relieve the banks of their stagnant
repletion. I'd recommend a reprint of "The Code of Honour" for the benefit
of book-makers.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 281
These rules and resolutions of the "Fire-eaters" and " Knights
of Tara " were the more deeply impressed on my mind, from my
ha-vmg run a great chance of losmg my Ufe, when a member of
the university, m consequence of the strict observance of one of
them. A young gentleman of Galway, Mr Eichard Daly, then
a Templar, had the greatest predUection for smgle combat of any
person I ever recoUect. He had fought sixteen duels m the
space of two years : three with swords and thhteen with pistols ;
yet, with so httle skill, or so much good fortune, that not a
wound worth mentioning occurred m the course of the whole.
This gentleman afterwards figured for many years as patentee of
the Theatre Eoyai, DubUn, and had the credit of first introducmg
that superior woman and actress, Mrs. Jordan, when Miss Francis,
on the Dubhn boards.
I was surprised one winter's evenmg at coUege by receivmg
a -written chaUenge m the nature of an invitation, from Mr.
Daly, to fight bim early the ensuing morning. I never had
spoken a word to him in my life, and scarcely of him, and no
possible cause of quarrel that I could guess existed between us.
However, it being then a decided opinion that a first overture of
that nature could never be declined, I accepted the mvitation
-without any mquiry ; -writing, m reply, that as to place I chose
the field of Donnybrook fah as the fittest spot for aU sorts of
encounters. I had then to look out for a second, and resorted to
a person -with whom I was very intimate, and who, as he was a
curious character, may be worth noticing. He was brother to the
unfortunate Sh Edward Crosby, Bart., who was murdered by a
court-martial at Carlow, May 1798.* My friend was afterwards
caded " BaUoon Crosby," being the first aeronaut who constructed
a Hibernian badoon, and ventured to take a journey into the
sky from Irelandf
* About the same time as Mr. CorneUus Grogan of Johnston Castle, Wexford,
whom the insurgents forced into their ser-vice. Though an opposition member,
aud perhaps a sympathiser with the movement, it is thought that his appearance
among the armed bands was not a voluntary act. He was a feeble old man,
beyond seventy.
t And a most unfortunate journey it was for the spectators. The ascent was

282 barrington's personal sketches
Crosby was of immense stature, being above she feet three
inches high. He had a comely-looking, fat, ruddy face, and was,
beyond ad comparison, the most ingenious mechanic I ever knew.
He had a smattering of aU sciences, and there was scarcely an
art or a trade of which he had not some practical knowledge.
His chambers at codege were Uke a general workship for aU kinds
of artizans. He was very good tempered, exceedingly strong, and
as brave as a hon ; but as dogged as a mule. Nothmg could
change a resolution of his, when once made ; and nothmg could
check or resist his perseverance to carry it mto execution. He
highly approved of my promptness in acceptmg Daly's invitation,
but I told him that I unluckdy had no pistols, and did not know
where to procure any agamst the next morning. This puzzled
him ; but on recollection, he said he had no complete pistols
either ; but he had some old lodes, barrels, and stocks, which, as
they did not originaUy belong to each other, he should find it
very difficult to make anything of Nevertheless, he would fall
to work dhectly. He kept me up tdl late at night m his cham
bers to help him in filing the old locks and barrels, and endea
vouring to patch up two or three of them so as to go off and
answer that individual job. Various trials were made. Much
tihng, driUing, and scanning were necessary. However, by two
o'clock in the morning, we had completed three enthe pistols,
which, though certainly of various lengths and of the most
ludicrous workmanship, struck theh fire right weU, and that was
ad we wanted of them — symmetry, as he remarked, bemg of no
great value upon these occasions.
It was before seven o'clock on the twentieth of March, with
a cold wmd and a sleety atmosphere, that we set out on foot for
the field of Donnybrook fah, after having taken some good cho
colate and a plentdul draught of cherry brandy, to keep the cold
wind out. On arri-ving, we saw my antagonist and his friend
from the Duke of Leinster's lawn, Mei-rion Square. The crowds outside were
immense, and so many squeezed together and leaned against a thick parapet wall
fronting the street, that it gave way, and the spectators and wall came tumbling
down together. Several were killed, and many disabled. — {Author's note.)

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 283
Jack Patterson, nephew to the chief-justice, already on the ground.
I shad never forget Daly's figm-e. He was a very fine-lookmg
young fedow, but with such a squint that it was totaUy im
possible to say what he looked at, except his nose, of which he
never lost sight. His dress made me ashamed of my own : he
wore a pea-green coat ; a large tucker with a diamond brooch
stuck m it ; a three-cocked hat with a gold button-loop and tas
sels ; aud sdk stockings ; and a couteau^de-ehasse hung gracefuUy
dangUng from his thigh. In fact, he looked as if already stand
mg m a state of triumph, after ha-vmg vanquished and trampled
on his antagonist. I did not half like his steady position, showy
surface, and mysterious squint ; and I certainly would rather have
exchanged two shots with his slovenly friend. Jack Patterson,
than one with so magnificent and overbearmg an adversary.
My friend Crosby, without any sort of salutation or prologue,
immediately cried out, " Ground, gentlemen ! ground, ground !
damn measurement !" and placing me on his selected spot,
whispered mto my ear, " Medio tutissimus ibis : never look at the
head or the heels : hip the maccaroni ! the hip for ever, my boy !
hip, hip ! " — when my antagonist's second, advancmg and accost
ing nune, said, Mr. Daly could not think of going any further
with the busmess ; that he found it was totaUy a mistake on his
part, originatmg through misrepresentation, and that he begged
to say he was extremely sorry for having given Mr. Barrington
and his friend the trouble of conung out, hoping they would ex
cuse it and shake hands with him. To this arrangement I cer
tamly had no sort of objection ; but Crosby, without hesitation,
said, " We cannot do that yet, sh : I'U show you we can't (tak
ing a httle manuscript book out of his breeches' pocket) : there's
the rule ! — ^look at that, sir," conthiued he, " see No. 7 ; — no
apology can be received after the parties meet, witlwut a fire.
You see, there's the rule," pursued Crosby, with infinite self-
satisfaction ; " and a young man on his first blood cannot break
rule, particularly with a gentleman so used to the sport as Mr.
Daly. Come, gentlemen, proceed ! proceed!"
Daly appeared much displeased, but took his ground, with-

284 barrington's personal sketches
out speaking a word, about nine paces from me. He presented
his pistol mstantly, but gave me most gallantly a fuU front.
It being, as Crosby said, my first blood, I lost no time, but
let fly without a smgle second of delay, and without takmg aim :
Daly staggered back two or three steps, put his hand to his
breast, cried, "I'm hit, sir!" and did not fire. Crosby gave me
a slap on the back which staggered me, and a squeeze of the
hand which nearly crushed my fingers. We got round him : his
waistcoat was opened, and a black spot, about the size of a crovm-
piece, with a Uttle blood, appeared directly on his breast-bone.
I was greatly shocked : fortunately, however, the bad had not
penetrated ; but his brooch had been broken, and a piece of the
settmg was sticking fast m the bone. Crosby stamped, cui'sed
the damp powder or under-loading, and cahnly puUed out the
brooch : Daly said not a word ; put his cambric handkerchief
doubled to his breast, and bowed. I returned the salute, ex
tremely glad to get out of the scrape, and so we parted -without
conversation or ceremony ; save that when I expressed my -wish
to know the cause of his challenging me, Daly repUed that he
would now give no such explanation, and his friend then pro
duced his book of rules, quoting No. 8 : — " If a party chaUenged
accepts the chaUenge -without asking the reason of it, the chal
lenger is never bound to di-vulge it afterwards."
My friend Crosby, as I have mentioned, afterwards attempted
to go off from Dublm to England m a baUoon of his o'wn making,
and dropped between Dubhn and Holyhead into the sea, but was
saved. The poor fedow, however, died far too early m life for the
arts and sciences, and for friendship, which he was endnently
capable of excitmg. I never saw two persons in face and figure
more ahke than Crosby and my friend Daniel O'Conned : but
Crosby was the taUer by two inches, and it was not so easy to
discover that he was an Irishman.

of his own times. 285

DUELLING EXTEAOEDINAEY.
Cue elections were more proUfic in duels than any other pubUc
meetings : they very seldom originated at a horse-race, cock-fight,
hunt, or at any place of amusement : folks then had pleasure in
view, and "something else to do" than to quarrel; but at ad
elections, or at assizes, or, in fact, at any place of business, almost
every man, -without any very particular reason, immediately be
came a -violent partisan, and frequently a furious enemy to some
body else ; and gentlemen often got themselves shot before they
could ted what they were fightmg about.
At an election for Queen's County, between General Walsh
and Mr. Warburton of Garryhinch, about the year 1783, took
place the most curious duel of any which have occurred within
my recodection. A Mr. Frank Skelton, one of the half-mounted
gentlemen described in the early part of this volume — a boister
ous, jokmg, fat young fedow — ^was prevaded on, much against
his grain, to chaUenge the exciseman of the town for runnmg
the butt-end of a horse-whip do-wn his throat the night before,
whdst he lay drunk and sleeping with his mouth open. The
exciseman msisted that snoring at a dinner-table was a personal
offence to every gentleman m company, and would therefore make
no apology. Frank, though he had been nearly choked, was very reluctant
to fight ; he said " he was sure to die if he did, as the exciseman
could snuff a candle with his pistol-bad ; and as he himself was
as big as a hundred dozen of candles, what chance could he
have?" We told hhn jocosely to give the exciseman no time to
take aim at bim, by which means, he might perhaps hit his ad
versary first, and thus survive the contest. He seemed some-

286 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
what encouraged and consoled by the hint, and most strictly did
he adhere to it.
Hundreds of the towns-people went to see the fight on the green
of Maryborough. The ground was regularly measured ; and the
friends of each party phched a ragged tent on the green, where
whisky and salt-beef were consumed in abundance. Skelton
having taken his ground, and at the same time two heavy drams
from a bottle his foster-brother had brought, appeared quite stout
tdl he saw the balls entermg the mouths of the exciseman's
pistols, which shone as bright as sdver, and were nearly as long
as fusils. This vision made a palpable alteration m Skelton's
sentiments : he changed colour, and looked about him as h he
wanted some assistance. However, theh seconds, who were of
the same rank and description, handed to each party his case of
pistols, and hah beUowed to them — " Blaze away, boys ! "
Skelton now recodected his mstructions, and lost no time:
he cocked both his pistols at once ; and as the exciseman was
deUberately and most scientfficaUy commg to his " dead level,"
as he caded it, Skelton let fly.
"Hadoa!" said the exciseman, dropping his level, "I'm bat
tered by  ! "
" The devd's cure to you ! " said Skelton, mstantly firmg Ins
second pistol.
One of the exciseman's legs then gave way, and do-nm he
came on his knee, exclaiming " HoUoa ! hoUoa ! you bloodthirsty
viUain ! do you want to take my Ufe ? "
" Why, to be sure I do ! " said Skelton. " Ha ! ha ! have I
stiffened you, my lad?" Wisely judging, however, that if he
stayed tdl the exciseman recovered Ms legs, he might have a couple
of shots to stand, he wheeled about, took to his heels, and got
away as fast as possible. The crowd shouted ; but Skelton, hke
a hare when started, ran the faster for the shouting.
Jemmy Moffit, his own second, foUowed, overtook, tripped
up his heels, and cursmg him for a disgraceful rascal, asked
" why he ran away from the exciseman ? "
" Ough, thunther ! " said Skelton, with his chastest brogue.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 287
"how many holes did the vUlam want to have drUled into his
carcass ? Would you have me stop to make a riddle of him,
Jenuny?" The second insisted that Skelton should return to the field,
to be shot at. He resisted, affirnung that he had done all that
honour requhed. The second caded him " a coward ! "
"By my sowl," returned he, "my dear Jemmy Moffit, may
be so ! you may cad me a coward d you plase ; but I did it all
for the best."
" The best, you blackguard ? "
" Yes," said Frank ; " sure it's better to be a coward than a
corpse ! and I must have been either one or toother of them."
However, he was dragged up to the ground by his second,
after agreemg to fight agam, h he had another pistol given him.
But, luckdy for Frank, the last buUet had stuck so fast between
the bones of the exciseman's leg that he could not stand. The
Mends of the latter then proposed to strap him to a tree, that he
might be able to shoot Skelton ; but tlds being positively ob
jected to by Frank, the exciseman was carried home : his first
wound was on the side of his thigh, and the second m his right
leg ; but neither proved at aU dangerous.
The exciseman, determined on haling Frank, as he caded it,
on his recovery chaUenged Skelton in his turn. Skelton accepted
the chaUenge, and chose fists as the weapons. These implements
the exciseman dechned, and the affah dropped.
The only modem mstance I recoUect to have heard of as
appUcable to No. 25 (refer to the regulations detaded m last
sketch), was that of old John Bourke of GUhsk, and Mr. Amby
Bodkm. They fought near Glinsk, and the old famdy steward
and other servants brought out the present Sh John, then a
chdd, and held him upon a man's shoulder to see papa fight.
On that occasion, both principals and seconds engaged : they
stood at right angles, ten paces distant, and aU began firing to
gether on the signal of a pistol discharged by an umphe. At
the first voUey the two prmcipals were touched, though very
sUghtly. The second voUey told better ; — both the seconds, and

288 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
Amby Bodkin, Esq., staggered out of theh places : they were weU
hit, but no hves lost. It was, accordmg to custom, an election
squabble. The Galway rule No. 2 was weU exempUfied in a duel be
tween a friend of mine, the present first counsel to the Commis
sioners of Ireland, and a counseUor O'Maher. O'Maher was the
chaUenger : no ground was measured ; they fired ad libitum.
G — y, never at a loss upon such occasions, took his ground at
once, and kept it steaddy : O'Maher began his career at a hundred
paces' distance, advancmg obhquely and graduaUy contractmg
his chcle round his opponent, who contmued changmg his front
by corresponding movements ; both parties now and then aimmg
as femts, then taking down theh pistols. This pas de deux
lasted more than half-an-hour, as I have been informed; at
length, when the assadant had contracted his chcle to firing dis
tance, G — y cried out, suddenly and loudly: O'Maher obeyed
the signal, and instantly fired : G — ^y returned the shot, and the
ehadenger reeled back hors de combat.
On the same occasion, Mr. O'Maher's second said to G — 's,
the famous counseUor Ned Lysight, " Mr. Lysight, take care ;
your pistol is cocked ! " — "WeU then," said Lysight, " cock yours,
and let me take a slap at you, as we are idle ! " However, this
proposition was not acceded to.
There could not be a greater game-cock than G — y. He was
not only spirited himself, but the cause of infusing sphit mto
others. It -wdl appear, from the fodowing friendly letter which
I received from him durmg my contested election for Mary
borough, that Lord Castlecoote, the returning officer, had a
tolerable chance of becoming acquainted with my friend's re
porters (the pet name for hair-triggers), which he was so good as
to send me for the occasion. His Lordship, however, decUned
the mtroduction. " DubUn, Jan. 29th, 1800.
" My dear Jonah,
" I have this moment sent to the mad coach-office two
buUet-moulds, not being certain which of them belongs to the

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 289
reporters : suspecting, however, that you may not have time to
melt the lead, I also send half-a-dozen budets, merely to keep
you going whde others are preparing.
" I lament much that my situation and political feehng pre
vent me from seeing you exhibit at Maryborough.
" Be bold, -wicked, steady, and fear nought !
" Give a hue to yours truly, ¦
" H. D. G.
" Jonah Barrington, Esq."
My friend G — y did not get off so wed in a little affah
which he had in Hyde Park in the night, on which occasion I
was his guardian ; a counseUor CampbeU happened to be a better
shot than my friend, and the moon had the unpleasant view of his
discomfiture : he got what they caU a crack ; however it did not
matter much, and in a few days G — y was on his legs again.
There could not be a better elucidation of Eule No. 5 of the
code of honour than an anecdote of Barry Yelverton, second son
of Lord Avonmore, baron of the exchequer. Barry was rather too
odd a fedow to have been accounted at ad times perfectly compos
mentis. He was a barrister. In a baU-room on circuit, where
the officers of a newly-arrived regiment had come to amuse them
selves and set the Munster lasses agog, Barry, having made too
many hbations, let out his natural dislike to the mditary, and
most grossly msulted several of the officers ; abusing one, tread
ing on the toes of another, jostlmg a third, and so forth, tiU he
had got through the whole regiment. Eespect for the women,
and reluctance to commit themselves with the black gowns on
the first day of their arrival, induced the insulted parties to con
tent themselves with only requhing Barry's address, and his hour
of visibihty next morning. Barry, with great satisfaction, gave
each of them his card, but informed them that sendmg to hhn
was unnecessary ; — that he was his own second, and would meet
every man of them at eight o'clock next mornmg, in the bad-
room ; concluding by desiring them to bring their swords, as that
was always his weapon. Though this was rather a curious ren-
VOL. I. u

290 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
dezvous, yet, the chaUenged having the right to choose his weapon,
and the place being a propos, the officers aU attended next day
punctually, with the surgeon of the regiment and a due propor
tion of smaU-swords, fuUy expectmg that some of his brother
gownsmen would join in the rencontre. On their arrival, Barry
requested to know how many gentlemen had done him the
honour of giving bim the invitation, and was told theh names,
amounting to nine. "Very well, gentlemen," said Yelverton ; "I
am wed aware I abused some of you, and gave others an offence
equivalent to a blow, which latter being the greatest msult, we'll
dispose of those cases first, and I shall return in a few minutes
fuUy prepared."
They conceived he had gone for his sword and friends. But
Barry soon after returned alone, and resumed thus : — "Now,
gentlemen, those to each of whom I gave an equivalent to a
blow, wid please step forward :"¦ — four of them accordmgly did
so, when Barry took from under his coat a bundle of switches,
and addressed them as follows : " Gentlemen, permit me to have
the honour of handing each of you a switch (according to the
Eule No. 5 of the Tipperary Eesolutions), wherewith to retum
the blow, h you feel any particular deshe to put that extremity
into practice : I fancy, gentlemen, that settles four of you ; and
as to the rest, here" — handing one ofhis cards to each, -with / beg
your pardon wvitten above his name — "that's agreeable to No. 1"
(reading the rule). " Now I fancy all your cases are disposed
of ; and having done my duty according to the Tipperary Eesolu
tions, which I wdl never swerve from, — if, gentlemen, you are
not satisfied, I shall be on the bridge to-morrow mornmg, with a
case of barking-irons." The officers stared, first at him, then at
each other : the honest, jody countenance and droUery of Barry
were quite hresistible ; first a smde of surprise, and then a
general laugh, took place, and the catastrophe was their askmg
Barry to dine -with them at the mess, where his eccentricity and
good humour delighted the whole regiment. The 'poor feUow
grew quite deranged at last, and died, I beUeve, in rather unplea
sant circumstances.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 291
The late Lord Mount Garret, afterwards Earl of Kdkenny,
had for several years a great number of lawsuits at once on his
hands, particularly with some tasolvent tenants, whose causes
had been gratuitously taken up by Mr. Bad, an attorney, Mr.
WilUam Johnson, the barrister, and seven or eight others of the
chcuit. His Lordship was dreadfuUy tormented. He was natu
raUy a very clever man, and devised a new mode of carrying on
his lawsuits. He engaged a cUentless attorney, named Egan,
as his working sohcitor, at a very Uberal yearly stipend, upon
the express terms of his undertakmg no other busiaess, and hold
ing his office solely in his Lordship's own house and under his
own eye and dhection. His Lordship appUed to Mr. Fletcher,
afterwards judge, and myself, requesting an interview ; upon
which he informed us of his situation ; that there were generaUy
ten counsel pitted against him, but that he would have much
more rehance on the advice and punctual attendance of two
steady than of ten straggling gentlemen ; and that, under the
fuU conviction that one of us would always attend the courts
when his causes were caUed on, and not leave hhn in the lurch
as he had been left, he had dhected his attorneys to mark on
our two briefs ten times the amount of fees paid to each on the
other side : " Because," said his Lordship, " if you won't surely
attend, I must engage ten counsel, as wed as my opponents, and
perhaps not be attended to after aU " The singularity of the
proposal set us laughing, in which his Lordship joined.
Fletcher and I accepted the offer, and did most punctuady
attend his numerous trials — ^were most UberaUy fee'd — but most
unsuccessful in our efforts ; for we were never able to gain a
single cause or verdict for our client.
The principle of strict justice certainly was with his Lordship,
but certain formaUties of the law were decidedly against him :
thus, perceivmg himself likely to be foiled, he determined to take
another course, quite out of our Une, and a course whereby no
suit is decided in modem days — namely to fight it out, muzzle
to muzzle, with the attorney and all the counsel on the other
side.

292 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
The first procedure on this determination was a direct chal
lenge from his Lordship to the attorney, Mr. BaU : it was accepted,
and a duel immediately followed, in which his Lordship got the
worst of it. He was wounded by the attorney at each shot, the
first having taken place m his Lordship's right arm, which pro
bably saved the solicitor, as his Lordship was a most accurate
marksman. The noble chaUenger received the second buUet in
his side, but the wound was not dangerous.
My Lord and the attorney having been thus disposed of, the
honourable Somerset Butler, his Lordship's son, now took the
field, and proceeded,- according to due form, by a chadenge to
Mr. Peter Burrowes, the first of the adversaries' counsel, now
judge-commissioner of insolvents. The iavitation not bemg
refused, the combat took place, one cold frosty morning, near
Kdkenny. Somerset knew his busmess well ; but Peter had had
no practice whatever in that Une of Utigation.
Few persons feel too warm on such occasions. An old woman
who sold spiced gingerbread-nuts in the street he passed through
accosted him, extolling her nuts to the very skies. Peter bought
a pennyworth on the advice of his second, Dick Waddy, an attor
ney, and duly receiving the change of a sixpenny-piece, put the
coppers and nuts into his waistcoat pocket, and inarched off to the
scene of action.
Prehmmaries being soon arranged, the pistols given, ten
steps measured, the flints hammered, and the feather-springs
set, Somerset, a fine dashing young feUow, full of spirit, acti-vity,
and animation, gave elderly Peter but little time to take his
fighting position ; in fact, he had scarcely raised his pistol to a
wabblmg level, before Somerset's bad came crack dash against
Peter's body. The halfpence rattled in his pocket. Peter dropped
flat. Somerset fled. Dick Waddy roared " Minder!" and called
out to Surgeon Pack. Peter's clothes were ripped up, and Pack,
secundum artem, examined the wound. A black hole designated
the spot where the lead had penetrated Peter's abdomen. The
doctor shook his head, and pronounced but one short word —
" mortal !" It was, however, more expressive than a long speech.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 293
Peter groaned, and tried to recoUect some prayer, d possible, or
a scrap of his catechism. His friend Waddy began to think
about the coroner ; his brother barristers sighed heavdy ; and
Peter was supposed to be fast departing this world, when Surgeon
Pack, after another exclamation, taking leave of Peter, and lean
ing his hand on the grass to assist him in rising, felt something
hard, took it up, and looked at it curiously. The spectators
closed m the circle to see Peter die. The patient tumed his
exphmg eyes towards Surgeon Pack, as much as to ask, " Is
there no hope ?" — when lo ! the doctor held up to the astonished
assembly the identical bullet, which had flattened its own body
on the surface of a copper, and left his Majesty's bust distinctly
imprmted, in black and blue shading, on his subject's carcass !
Peter's heart beat high ; he lost as httle time as possible in
rising from the sod on which he had lain extended ; a bandage
was apphed round his body, and in a short time Peter was able
to begm the combat anew.
His Lordship ha-vmg now, on his part, recovered from the
attorney's wound, considered it high time to recommence hostdi
ties according to his original plan of the campaign ; and the
engagement immediately succeeding was between 1dm and the
present counseUor John Byrne, king's counsel, and next in rota
tion of his learned adversaries.
His Lordship was much pleased with the spot upon which
his son had chosen to hit counseUor Peter, and resolved to select
the same for a hit on counseUor John. The decision appeared
to be judicious ; and, as if the pistol itseK could not be ignorant
of its dhection, and had been gratffied at its cwn previous accu
racy and success, for it was the same, it sent a bullet in the
identical level, and counseUor John Byrne's carcass received a
precisely simUar compliment with counseUor Peter Burrowes's,
with this difference, that the former had bought no gingerbread
nuts, and the matter consequently appeared more serious. I
asked him during his dluess how he felt when he received the
crack. He answered, just as if he had been punched by the
mainmast of a man of war ! Certainly a grand simile ; but how

294 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
far my friend Byrne was enabled to form the comparison he
never divulged to me.
My Lord having got through two of them, and his son a
thhd, it became the duty of Captain Pierce Butler, brother to
Somerset, to take his turn in the hsts. The barristers now began
not much to reUsh this species of argument ; and a gentleman
who foUowed next but one on the Ust owned fahly to me that
he would rather be on our side of the question. But it was
determined by our noble cUent, so soon as the first series of
combats should be finished, to begin a new one, tiU he and the lads
had tried the mettle, or " touched the inside, " of the remaining
barristers. Mr. Dicky Gumness, a little, dapper, popular, hsp-
ing, jesting pleader, was the next on the Ust ; and the honour
able Pierce Butler, his intended slaughterer, was ad-vised, for
variety's sake, to put what is called the onus on that Uttle gentle
man, and thereby force him to become the chaUenger.
Dick's friends kindly and candidly mformed him that he
could have but httle chance, the honourable Pierce bemg one of
the most resolute of a courageous famdy, and quite an unde-vi-
ating marksman ; that he had, besides, a hot, persevermg, thhsty
spirit, which a Uttle fighting would never satisfy ; and as Dicky
was secretly informed that he would to a certamty be forced to
battle, it being his tura, and as his speedy dissolution was neariy
as certain, he was recommended to settle ad his worldly concerns
without delay.
But it was otherwise decided. Providence took Dick's part.
The honourable Pierce injudiciously put his onus, rather a wicked
one, on Dick in open court before the judge ; an uproar ensued,
and the honourable Pierce hid himself under the table. How
ever, the Sheriff lugged him out, and prevented that encounter
effectuady. Pierce with great difficulty escapmg from mcarcera-
tion on giving his honour not to meddle 'with Dicky. At
length his Lordship, finding that neither the laws of the land
nor those of battle were hkely to adjust affahs to his satisfac
tion, suffered them to be terminated by the three duels and as
many wounds.

OF HIS O'WN TIMES. 295
Leonard M'NaUy,'''" weU known both at the EngUsh and Irish
bars, and in the dramatic chcles, as the author of that popular
little piece, " Eobin Hood," etc., was one of the strangest feUows
m the world. His figure was ludicrous ; he was very short, and
nearly as broad as long. His legs were of unequal length, and
he had a face which no washing could clean. He wanted one
thumb, the absence of which gave rise to numerous expedients on
his part ; and he took great care to have no nads, as he regularly
ate every morning the gTOwth of the preceding day. He never
wore a glove, lest he should appear to be gudty of affectation m
conceahng his deformity. When iu a hurry, he generady took
two thumping steps -with the short leg to briag up the space made
by the long one ; and the bar, who never missed a favourable
opportunity of nicknaming, caded him accordingly, " One pound
two." He possessed, however, a fine eye, and by no means an
ugly countenance ; a great deal of middling inteUect ; a shriU,
fuU, good bar voice ; great quickness at cross-examination, with
sufficient adroitness at defence ; and in Ireland was the very staff
and standmg-dish of the crimmal jurisdictions. In a word,
M'Nady was a good-natured, hospitable, talented, dhty fellow ;
and had by the latter quahfication so disgusted the chcuit bar,
that they refused to receive him at their mess^a cruelty I set
my face agamst, and every summer chcuit endeavoured to vote
him mto the mess, but always meffectuaUy ; his neglect of his
person, the shrillness of his voice, and his frequenting low com
pany, being assigned as reasons which never could be set aside.
M'NaUy had done something in the great cause of Napper
and Dutton, which brought him into stdl further disrepute with
the bar. Anxious to regam his station by some act equaUsing
* This gentleman was one of the popular barristers employed in defending the
unfortunate prisoners of 1798. He was in the pay of government, and performed
good service in return, by disclosing beforehand the Une of defence he intended to
pursue, and betraying its weak points. Sir Jonah did not Uve to see the expo
sure of this feUow's baseness. He says M'NaUy possessed a middUng intellect —
a respectable endowment when accompanied with a frank, generous heart. This
he had not in the least. But oh, the luck of rogues ! ho survived his treachery
many years, and died before its full discovery.

296 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
him -with his brethren, he deternuned to offend or challenge some
of the most respectable members of the profession, who, however,
showed no incUnation to obUge him in that way. He first tried
his hand with counseUor Henry Deane Grady, a veteran, but
who upon this occasion refused the combat. M'NaUy, who was
as intrepid as possible, by no means despaired ; he was so
obhging as to honour me -with the next chance, and in further
ance thereof, on very httle provocation, gave me the retort, not
courteous, in the court of Kmg's Bench.
I was wed aware of his object ; and, not feehng very com
fortable under the insult, told him, taking out my watch,
" M'NaUy, you shaU meet me in the Park in an hour"
The Uttle feUow's eyes sparkled -ndth pleasure at the invita
tion, and he instantly repUed, " In half-an-hour, if you please,"
comparmg, at the same moment his watch -vrith mine : — " I hope
you won't disappoint me," contmued he, " as that  Grady
did." " Never fear, Mac," answered I ; " there's not a gentleman at
the bar but wiU fight you to-morrow, provided you Uve so long,
which I can't promise."
We had no time to spare, so parted to get ready. The first
man I met was Mr. Henry Harding, a huge, wicked, fightmg
Kmg's County attorney. I asked him to come out with me :
to him it was fine sport. I also summoned Eice Gibbon, a
surgeon, who, being the most ostentatious feUow imaginable,
brought au immense bag of surgical instruments, etc., from
Mercer's Hospital. In forty-five mmutes we were regularly
posted in the middle of the review-ground in the Phcenix Park ;
and the whole scene, to any person not so seriously imphcated,
must have been irresistibly ludicrous. The sun shone brightly ;
and Surgeon Gibbon, to lose no time in case of a hit, spread out
ad his polished instruments on the grass, gUttering in the light
on one side of me. My second ha-ving stepped nine paces,
then stood at the other side, and handed me a case of pistols.
M'NaUy stood before me, very like a beer-barrel on its stdling,
and by his side were ranged three unfortunate barristers, who

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 297
were aU soon afterwards hanged and beheaded for high-
treason — namely, John Sheares (who was his second, and had
given him his point-blanks), with Henry Sheares and Bagenal
Harvey,* who came as amateurs. Both of the latter, I beheve,
were amicably disposed ; but a negotiation could not be
admitted, and to it we went. M'NaUy presented so cooUy, that
I could plainly see I had but httle chance of being missed, so I
thought it best to lose no thne on my part. The poor feUow
staggered, and cried out, "I am hit!" and I found some twitch
myseK at the moment which I could not at the time account
for. Never did I experience so miserable a feeling. He had
received my bad dhectly in the curtain of his side. It appeared
to have hit the buckle of his gaUows, yclept suspenders, by
which it had been partiaUy impeded, and had turned round,
mstead of entering his body. ^Vhdst I was stdl in dread as to
the result, my second, after seeing that he had been so far
protected by the suspenders, inhumanly exclaimed, " Mac !
you are the only rogue I ever knew that was saved by the
gallows !"
On returning home, I found the skirt of my coat perforated
on both sides, and a scratch of the skin on both my thighs.
This accounts for the twitch I have spoken of
My opponent soon recovered, and after the precedent of
being wounded by a King's Counsel, he could not afterwards be
decently refused satisfaction by any barrister. He was, there
fore, no longer insulted, and the poor feUow has often told me
since that my shot was his salvation.
Leonard was a great poetaster ; and having faden m love
with a Miss Janson, daughter to a very rich attorney, of
Bedford Eow, London, he wrote on her the celebrated song of
" The Lass of Eichmond Hdl." There her father had a lodge.
She could not withstand the song, and returned his flame.
This young lady was absolutely beautKul, but quite a slattern
in her person. She likewise had a turn for versKying, and was
therefore altogether wed adapted to her lame lover, particularly
* Of Bargay Castle, County Wexford ; the same who was hanged in '98,

298 barrington's personal sketches
as she never could spare time from her poetry to wash her
hands — a circumstance in which M'Nally was sympathetic.
The father, however, notwithstanding aU this, refused his
consent; and consequently M'Nady took advantage of his
dramatic knowledge, by adopting the precedent of Barnaby
Brittle, and bribed a barber to lather old Janson's eyes as wed
as his chin, and with somethmg rather sharper too than Windsor
soap. Slipping out of the room whilst her father was getting
rid of the lather and the smart, this Sappho, with her Umpmg
Phaon, escaped, and were united m the holy bands of matri
mony the same evening ; and she continued making, and
M'NaUy correcting, verses, tiU it pleased God to caU them
away. This curious couple conducted themselves, both gene
raUy and towards each other, extremely weU after theh union.
Old Janson partly forgave them, and made some settlement
upon theh chddren.
The ancient mode of duelling m Ireland was generally on
horseback. The combatants were to gaUop past each other at
a distance marked out by posts which prevented a nearer
approach. They were at liberty to fire at any time from the
commencement to the end of their course ; but it must be at a
hand-gadop. Theh pistols were pre-viously charged alike -with a
certain number of bads, slugs, or whatever was most convenient,
as agreed upon.
There had been, from time immemorial, a spot marked out
on level ground near the Down of Clapook, Queen's County, on
the estate of my granduncle, Sh John Byrne, which I have often
visited as classic ground. It was beautKudy situated near
Stradbady, and here, according to tradition and legendary tales,
the old captams and chieftains used to meet and decide their
differences. Often did I walk it over, measuring its dimensions
step by step. The bounds of it are stdl palpable, about sixty
or seventy steps long, and about thhty or forty wide. Large
stones remain on the spot where, I suppose, the posts originally
stood to divide the combatants, which posts were about eight or
nine yards asunder — the shortest distance from which they

OF HIS OWN times. 299
were to fire. The time of firing was voluntary, so as it occurred
during theh course, and, as before stated, in a hand-gaUop. If
the quarrel was not terminated in one course, the combatants
proceeded to a second ; and K it was decided to go on after
theh pistols had been discharged, they then either finished with
short broad-swords on horseback or with small-swords on foot ;
but the tradition ran, that when they fought with smaU-swords
they always adjourned to the rock of Donamese, the ancient
fortress of the O'Moores and the Princes of Offaly. This is the
most beautKul of the inland ruins I have seen m Ireland.
My gi'andfather. Colonel Jonah Barrington, of Cudenagh-
more, had a great passion for telling stories as to duels and
battles fought in his own neighbourhood. I remember many of
his recitals, and, best of aU, one of my grandfather's engage
ments, which came off about the year 1759. He and a Mr.
Gdbert had an irreconcdable grudge, I beheve for a very sidy
cause. The relatives of both parties found it must inevitably
end m a combat, which, were it postponed tdl the sons of each
grew up, might be enlarged perhaps from an individual into a
regular famdy engagement. It was therefore thought better
that the business should be ended at once ; and it was decided
that they should fight on horseback on the green of Mary
borough ; that the ground should be one hundred yards of race
and eight of distance ; the weapons of each, two holster pistols,
a broad-bladed but not very long sword with basket-handle ; and
a skeen or long broad-bladed dagger — the pistols to be charged
with one bad and swan-drops.
All due preliminaries being arranged, the country coUected
and placed as at a horse-race, and the ground kept free by the
gamekeepers and huntsmen mounted, the combatants started,
and gadoped towards each other. Both fired before they reached
the nearest spot, and missed. The second course was not so
lucky. My grandfather received many of Gdbert's shot fud in
his face ; the swan-drops penetrated no deeper than his temple
and cheek-bones •; the large bullet fortunately passed him. The
wounds not being dangerous, a fierce battle, hand to hand.

300 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
ensued. My grandfather got three cuts, which he used to ex
hibit with great glee ; one on the thick of the right arm, a
second on his bridle-arm, and the third on the inside of the left
hand. His hat, which he kept to the day of his death, was also
sUced in several places ; but both had iron skud-caps under
their hats, which probably saved theh brams from remaining
upon the green of Maryborough.
Gilbert had received two pokes from my grandfather on his
thigh and his side, but neither dangerous. I fancy he had the
best of the battle, being as strong as, and less irritable than, my
grandfather, who, I suspect, grew towards the last a httle ticklish
on the subject ; for he rushed headlong at Gdbert, and instead of
striking at his person, thrust his broad-sword mto the horse's
body, until the beast dropped -with his rider underneath him.
My grandfather then leaped off his horse, threw away his sword,
and putting his skeen, or broad dagger, to the throat of Gdbert,
told him to ask his life or die, as he must do either one or the
other in half-a-minute. Gilbert said he would ask his hfe only
upon the terms that they should shake hands heartdy and be
for ever friends. These terms breathed intrepidity and a good
heart. Both parties acquiesced in them ; and from that time
they were the most attached and joyous companions of the
county they resided in.
My grandfather afterwards fought at Clapook a Mr. Fitz
gerald, who was badly shot. On this occasion, old Gdbert was
my grandfather's second. I wed remember having seen him ; as
I do also the late chief-justice, then serjeant, Pattison, who had
come down to Cudenaghmore to visit my grandfather, and, as I
afterwards discovered, to cheat him. Gdbert brought me a great
many sweet things ; and I heard that evening so many stories
of fights at Clapook, and on the ridge of Maryborough, that I
never forgot them. My memory seldom fads me in anything,
and least of ad in recitals such as the foregoing

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 301

GEOEGE HAETPOLE.
In the year 1791, George Hartpole of Shrewl Castle, Queen's
County, Ireland, had just come of age. He was the last sur
viving male of that name, which belonged to a popular family,
highly respectable and long established in the county. Few
private gentlemen commenced life with better promise, and none
better merited esteem and happiness. He was my relative by
blood ; and though considerably younger, the most intimate and
dearest friend I had.
His father, Eobert, had married a sister of the late and
present Earls of Aldborough, who became thereby the mother of
George ; and m this connection originated my intercourse with
that eccentric nobleman and his famdy.
A singular fatality had attended the Hartpole famdy from
time immemorial. The fathers seldom survived the attainment
of the age of twenty-three years by theh elder sons, which cir
cumstance gave rise to numerous traditionary tales of sprites
and wammgs.*
Eobert, as usual with the gentlemen of his day, was the
dupe of agents, and the victim of indolence and the sphit of
hospitahty. He had deposited his consort in the tomb of her
fathers, and had continued merrdy enjoymg the conviviahties of
the world (prmcipady in the night-time) tUl his son George had
passed his twenty-second year ; and then punctually made way
for the succession, leaving George inheritor of a large territory,
-* The Hartpoles were the hardest livers in the county. This may not fuUy
account for the phenomenon ; but the tendency of whisky and wine to accu
mulate its poison iu successive generations has been fully recognised by medical
men. The representatives of three or four generations of topers will never be
found a sturdy race.

302 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
a moderate mcome, a tattered mansion, an embarrassed rent-rod,
and a profound ignorance (without the consciousness of it) of
business in ad departments.
George, though not at aU handsome, had completely the
mien and manners of a gentleman. He was mUd, brave, gene
rous, and sincere ; yet on some occasions he was obstinate and
peevish ; m his friendships, George Hartpole was immutable.
He was of the middle height, and exhibited neither personal
strength nor constitutional vigour ; his slender form and languid
look mdicated excitation without energy ; yet his sphits were
moderately good, and the most careless observer might feel con-
-vinced that he had sprung from no ordinary parentage.
Shrewl Castle, the hereditary residence of the Hartpoles,
picturesquely seated on a verdant bank of the smooth and
beautiful Barrow, had, during the revolutions of time, enthely
lost the character of a fortress ; patched and pieced after aU
the numberless orders of -vUlage architecture, it had long re
signed the dignity of a castle without acquhing the comforts of
a mansion ; yet its gradual descent, from the stronghold of
powerful chieftams to the rude dwedmg of an embarrassed
gentleman, could be traced even by a superficial observer Its
half-leveUed battlements, its soUtary and decrepit tower, and its
rough and dingy wads, gi'ving it the appearance of a sort of
habitable buttress, combmed to portray the do'wnfaU of an
ancient famdy.
Close boundmg the site of this ambiguous heritage was
situate the ancient burial-place of the Hartpole famdy and its
foUowers for ages. Scattered graves, some green — some russet
— denoted the recency or remoteness of the different interments ;
and a few broad flag-stones indented with defaced or dlegible
inscriptions, and covering the remams of the early masters of the
domain, just uplifted theh moulderhig sides from amongst weeds
and briars, and thus haK disclosed the only objects which could
render that cemetery interesting.
One melancholy yew-tree, spreading wide its stragghng
branches over the tombs of its former lords and the nave of an

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 803
ancient chapel, seemed* to await, in awful augury, the honour of
exphing with the last scion of its hereditary chieftains.
To me the -view of this melancholy tree always communicated
a low feverish sensation which I could not well account for. It
is true, I ever disUked to contemplate the residence of the dead if
but that of the Hartpole race, bounding their had of revehy,
seemed to me a check upon all hdarity ; and I never could raise
my spirits in any room, or sleep soundly in any chamber, which
overlooked that sanctuary.
The incidents which marked the hfe of the last owner of
Shrewl Castle were singular and affectmg, and on many points
may tend to exhibit an instructive example. Nothing, in fact,
is better calculated to influence the conduct of society, than the
biography of those whose career has been conspicuously marked
either by eminent virtues or pecuUar events. The instance of
George Hartpole may serve to prove, were proof wanting, that
matrimony, as it is the most hrevocable, so is it the most precari
ous step m the IKe of mortals ; and that sensations of presentiment
and foreboding (as I have already more than once maintained)
are not always visionary.
I was the most valued friend of this iU-fated young man. To
me his whole heart was laid open ; nor was there one important
chcumstance of his hfe — one feeling of his mmd — concealed from
me. It is now many years since he paid his debt to nature ;
and, by her course, I shad not much longer tarry to regret his
departure ; but, whUst my pilgrimage continues, that regret cannot
be extinguished. George had received but a moderate education, quite inade
quate to his rank and expectations ; and the country Ufe of his
careless father had afforded him too few conveniences for culti-
* A word of most extensive use in subjective poetry. By means of its force
and flexibility we can impart to the very stocks and stones inteUigence, reflection,
sympathy ; draw sweet discourse from speechless things ; and people imsocial
vacuity -with gentle spirits.
+ In a note of fourteen lines the author declares that for the last forty years,
except once, he has not attended the funeral even of a friend, in consequence of
the disagreeable sensations inspired by a graveyard.

304 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
vating his capacity. His near aUiance, however, and intercourse
with the Aldborough family, gave him considerable opportunities
to counteract, in a better class of society, that tendency to rustic
dissipation to which his situation had exposed him, and which,
at first seductive, soon becomes habitual, and ruinous in every
way to youthful morals.
Whatever were the other eccentricities or failings of Eobert,
Earl of Aldborough, the uncle of Hartpole, the hyperbohcal ideas
of importance and dignity which he had imbibed furnished him
with a certain address and ah of fashion which excluded rusticity
from his society, and, combined wdth a little classic learning and
modern beUes-lettres, never faded to give him an ascendency
over his ruder neighbours.
The most remarkable act of his Lordship's hfe was an experi
ment regarding his sister. Lady Hannah Stratford. The borough
of Baltinglass was in thc patronage of the Stratford famdy ; and
on that subject his brothers, John and Benjamin, never gave him
a peaceable moment : they always opposed him, and generady
succeeded. He was determined, however, to make a new kmd
of burgomaster or returning-officer, whose adherence he might
rehgiously depend on. He therefore took his sister Lady Hannah
down to the corporation, and recommended her as a fit and pro
per returning-officer for the borough of Baltinglass ! Many
highly approved of her I^adyship, by way of a change, and a
double return ensued — a man acting for the brothers, and the
lady for the nobleman. This created a great battle. The honour
able ladies aU got into the thick of it : some of them were weU
trounced — others gave as good as they received : the affair made
a great uproar in Dublin, and iaformations were moved for and
granted agaiust some of the ladies. However, the brothers, as
was just, kept the borough, and his Lordship never could make
any farther hand of it.
The high-ways of Lord Aldborough, and the 6y-ways with
which he intersected them, are well exhibited by an incident
that occurred to him when the country was rather disturbed in
1797. He proceeded in great state, with his carriage, outriders,

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 305
etc., to visit the commanding officer of a regiment of cavalry
which had just arrived in that part of the country. On entering
the room, he immediately began by informing the officer that he
was the Earl of Aldborough, of Belan Castle ; that he had the
finest park and fish-ponds in that neighbourhood, and frequently
did the mditary gentlemen the honour of inviting them to his
dinners ; addmg, with what he thought a dignified pohteness, " I
have come from my castle of Belan, where I have all the con
veniences and luxuries of IKe, for the especial purpose of saying.
Major, that I am glad to see the mihtary in my county, and have
made up my mind to give you. Major, my countenance and pro
tection." The Major, who happened to be rather a rough soldier
and of a country not famed for the softness of its manners, could
scarcely repress his indignation at his Lordship's arrogant pohte
ness ; but when the last sentence was pronounced, he could re
strain himseK no longer : — " Countenance and protection !" re
peated he contemptuously, two or three times ; " as for your
protection. Mister my Lord, Major M'Pherson is always able to
protect himseK ; and as for your countenance, by George I would
not tak it for your earldom!"
His Lordship withdrew, and the Major related the incident
as a smgular piece of assurance. My Lord, however, knew the
world too well to let the soldier's answer stick against himself :
next day he mvited every officer of the regiment to diimer, and
so ci'viUy, that the Major lost aU credit with his brother officers
for his surly reply to so hospitable a nobleman ! Nay, it was
even whispered amongst them at mess, that the Major had
actuady mvented the story, to show off his own wit and inde
pendence ; and thus Lord Aldborough obtained complete revenge.
On another occasion his Lordship got off better stdl : — ^being
churchwarden of Baltinglass parish, he did not please the rector.
Bob Carter, as to his mode of accounting for the money in the
poor-boxes. The peer treated Bob, who was as hard-going, good-
hearted, devd-may-care a parson as any in Ireland, with the
greatest contempt. The parson, who felt no sort of personal
respect for my Lord, renewed his msinuations of his Lordship's
VOL. L X

306 barrington's personal sketches
false arithmetic, untd the latter, highly mdignant, grew -wroth,
and would give Bob no further satisfaction on the matter : upon
which the rector took the only revenge then in his power, by
givmg out a second charity sermon, inasmuch as the proceeds
of the first had not been duly forthcoming. The hmt went
abroad, the church was crowded, and to the mfinite amusement
of the congregation. Bob put forth as his text — " Whosoever
giveth to the poor, lendeth to the Lord." The apphcation was so
clear, that the laugh was irresistible. Bob foUowed up his blow
aU through the sermon, and "the Lord" was considered to be
completely blown ; but, skUfuUy enough, he contrived to give
the matter a turn that disconcerted even Bob himseK. After
the sermon was concluded, his Lordship stood up, publicly
thanked Bob for his most excedent text and charity sermon, and
declared that he had no doubt the Lord Lieutenant or the bishop
would very soon promote him, according to his extraordinary
merits, which he was ready to vouch in common -with the rest
of the parishioners ; and finady begged of him to have the
sermon prmted !
Hartpole's fortune on the death of his father was not large ;
but its increase would be great and certain. He purchased a
commission in the army, and commenced his entr^ mto a military
life and general society -with ad the advantages of birth, pro
perty, and character.
A cursory observation of the world must con-vmce us of one
painful and mexphcable truth — that there are some men, and
frequently the best, who, even from theh earUest youth, appear
born to be the -victims of undeviatmg misfortune. Ever dis
appointed in his most ardent hopes — his best attentions over-
thro-wn — his purest motives calumniated and abused ; no rank or
station suffices to shelter such an unfortunate. Ennui creeps upon
his hopeless mmd, communicates a hstless languor to a sinking
constitution, and at length he almost joyfuUy surrenders an exist
ence which he finds burdensome even perhaps at its outset*
* Here, in a note. Sir Jonah suspended a young lady's poem "to Ulustrate the
state of a person so chased by misery. '' The reader ¦will be fully satisfied trith a

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 307
Such nearly was the lot of the last of the Hartpoles. He
had scarcely commenced a flattering entrance into public Ufe,
when one false and fatal step, to which he was led in the flrst
place by a dreadful accident, and subsequently by his own
benevolent disposition, worked on by the chicanery of others,
laid the foundation of aU his future miseries.
WhUst quartered with his regiment at Galway in Ireland,
his gun, on a shooting party, burst in his hand, which' was so
shattered that it was long before his surgeon could decide that
amputation might be dispensed with.
During the protracted period of his mdisposition, he was
confined to his chamber at a smaU inn, such as Ireland then
exhibited, and stdl exhibits, in provmcial tcwns. The host,
whose name was Sleven, had two daughters, both of whom
assisted hi the busmess. The elder. Honor, had long been cele
brated as a -vulgar humourist, and the cleverest of aU her con
temporaries ; and the bar, on circuits, frequented her father's
house purposely to be amused by her witticisms. Her morals
had aU the advantages of coarse repulsive defences. She occa
sionady amused the judges also ; and Lord Yelverton, the chief
baron, was Honor's greatest partisan.
Mary, the younger sister, was of a different appearance and
character, rather weU-looking, but not captivatmg. She was
lambent touch of this sweet ; for the purpose of enjoying which the second stanza
is presented : — II.
Oft have I mark'd the heav'nly moon
Wandering her pathless way
Along the midnight's purple noon.
More fair —more loved than day :
But soon she flmig her shado-wy -wreath
O'er dark eternity,
As a faint smUe on the cheek of death
'Twixt hope and agony.
"What is fairer than the heavenly moon ? What more affecting than her
wandering without a path ? Now muse on the tender hour of midnight's purple
noon, as refreshing as a bunch of lady's-fingers. Then behold Miss Moon flinging
her shadowy wreath o'er dark eternity, and say is not this note worth a sovereign !

308 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
mdd and unassuming. Though destitute of any kind of talent,
she yet appeared as if better born than Honor.
Throughout George's pamful and harassmg confitnement, the
more than assiduous care of Mary Sleven could not escape the
observation of the too sensitive convalescent. Hartpole has
often described to me the rise and progress of the giddy, romantic
feehng which then seized upon him ; how he used to catch her
moistened eye watching his interrupted slumbers, or the progress
of his recovery ; and when she was conscious of bemg perceived,
how the mantlmg blush would betray a degree of mterest far
beyond that of an ordinary attendant.
He could not but perceive, indeed, that the ghl actuaUy loved
him, and his vanity of course was aUve to the disclosure. Her
partiaUty flattered him m his seclusion, and led his thoughts
graduady and imperceptibly into a channel inconsistent -with
the weKare of himself, the honour of his famdy, and the becom
ing pride of a gentleman. It was, after ad, a sort of nondescript
passion ; it certainly was not love.
Meanwhde, the keen masculine understanding of Honor soon
perceived the game which it would be wise m her to play, and
conceived a project whereby to wind up Hartpole's feehng to the
pitch she wanted, and insensibly to lead his gratitude to love,
and his love to matrimony. This was Honor's aim, but she over
rated her own penetration, and deceived herseK as to Hartpole's
character : she overacted her part, and consequently weakened
its effect. At length, awakened from his -vision of romantic gratitude,
and beginning to open his eyes to the -views of the two women, my
friend determmed, by going over to England, to avoid aU theh
machinations ; and he also determiaed that his departure should
be abrupt. Honor, however, soon discovered the secret of his thoughts ;
and guessing the extent of his resolution, impressed upon hhn
the entire attachment of her pining sister, but at the same time
communicated Mary's resolution to be seen by him no more —
since it would be useless further to distract her devoted heart by

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 309
cultivating society from which she must so soon be separated
for ever.
After a day and night of cahn reflection, George conquered
the dangers of his high-flown gratitude, and departed at daybreak
from the mn -without even desiring to see the love-lorn and se
cluded Mary.
The sisters were thus totaUy disappointed. He had paid
munificently for the trouble he had given them, written a letter
of grateful thanks to Mary, left her a present, and set off to
Dubhn to take immediate shipping for England.
In Dubhn he stopped at the Marine Hotel, whence the packet
was to sad at midnight, and the time of embarkation had nearly
arrived when a loud shriek issued from an adjoining chamber to
his, at the hotel. Ever ahve to any adventm'e, Hartpole rushed
mto the room, and beheld — Mary Sleven ! She was, or affected
to be, famting, and was supported by the artful Honor, who hung
over her, apparently regardless of ad other objects, and bemoan-
mg, in low accents, the miserable fate of her only sister.
Bewddered both by the nature and suddenness of this ren-
contie, Hartpole told me that for a moment he nearly lost his
sight— nay, almost his reason ; but he soon saw through the
scheme, and mustered up sufficient courage to withdraw without
explanation. He had, in fact, advanced to the door, and was on
the outside step, the boat being ready to receive him, when a
second and more -violent shriek was heard from the room he had
just quitted, accompanied by exclamations of " She's gone ! she's
gone!" Hartpole's presence of mmd enthely forsook bim ; he
retraced his steps, and found Mary lying, as it should seem, quite
senseless, in the arms of Honor : his heart relented ; his evil
gemus profited by the advantage ; and he assisted to restore her.
Graduady Mary's eyes opened ; she regarded George wddly but
intently, and havmg caught his eye, closed hers again — a languid,
and, as it were, an involuntary pressure of his hand, conveymg
to him her sensations. He spoke kmdly to her ; she started at
the sound, and renewed the pressure with increased force. As
she slowly and gradually revived, the scene became more inter-

310 barrington's personal SKETCHES
estmg. A medical man, planted to be at hand, ordered her
Madeira. She sipped, looked tenderly at Hartpole, who sipped
and looked tenderly too. Exchange of this kind is no robbery.
AU that is given and received vastly fructffies on both sides.
The doctor took his glass, and spurred on the occasion. Honor
had her drain, and brightened up. Galen pledged George, and
George cheerfully reciprocated. In short, it became a moist
party. Thus did an hour flit away, and, meanwhile, the packet had
saded. Another person affected also to have lost his passage
whdst occupied about the patient, and this turned out to be a
Cathohc couple-beggar in shmy black ; some methodism m the
cut of his hah, curhng with festivity, but grizzling with years ;
his eyes beaming with a quiet grey Ught ; and a decayed sanctity
lingermg in the furrows of his ruddy cheek. Some refreshment
was ordered : the doctor and the priest were pressed to stay :
the stuff was replenished, and the rapid hour unnoticed fled!
But the morning's sun rose to show the yoke of matiimony on
the neck of George and his happy -wife, Mrs. Mary Hartpole.
Too soon the moments of reflection retmmed, when Hartpole's
sensitive mind became the field of tumultuous emotions. He
had lost himseK ! he therefore yielded to his fate, abandoned ad
idea of further resistance, and was led back in chams by the tri
umphant sisters.
His family and connections, however, never would receive
his wKe ; and George, for a whde sunk and disgraced, without
losing ad his attachment for the girl, had lost ad his tranqudhty.
After two years' struggle between his feeUngs for her and his
asphations after a more honourable station in society, the con
spiracy which had effected his ruin appeared m the most hideous
colours. The conflict now became stdl more keen withm his breast :
but, at length, his pride and resolution prevaded over his sensi
bdity, and he deternuned (after providing amply for her) to take
advantage of that statute which declares nud and void all mar
riages solemnised by a popish priest. He made this determina-

of his own TIMES. 311
tion, but Unfortunately he Ungered as to its execution. Her
influence meanwhile was not extinguished ; and she succeeded
in inducmg him to procrastmate from time to time the fatal re
solve. She could not, it is true, deny that he had been inveigled,
and had made up her own mind, should he stand firm, to accept
a hberal pro-vision, and submit to a legal sentence, which indeed
could not be resisted.
The suit for a decree of nudity was commenced, but no
effective proceedings were ever taken, nor any sentence in the
cause pronounced, o-wmg to events stdl more unfortunate to poor
Hartpole. Prior to this fatal act of George's, I had never observed an
attachment on his part towards any female, save a very tem
porary one to a young lady in bis neighbourhood, the second
daughter of Mr. Yates of Moon.-*
On his retum from Scotland he immediately repahed to
Chfton. Here fate threw in the way of this dl-fated youth
another lure for his destruction, but such a one as might have
entrapped even the most cautious and prudent. Love, in its
gemdne and rational shape, now assaded tbe breast of the ever-
sensitive Hartpole,— and an attachment grew up fatal to his
happmess, and, I think I may add, eventuaUy to his hfe.
At Chfton, my friend made the acquamtance of a family, in
one of whose members were combined ad the attractive qualities
of youth, loveUness, and amiabdity, whdst theh possessor at the
same time moved m a sphere calculated to gratify the requisi
tions of a decent pride. Those who saw and knew the object of
George's present attachment could feel no surprise at the
existence of his passion. The unfortunate young man, however,
sorely felt that his situation under these new chcumstances was
* As this lady acts the part of a mere dummy, I must cut my author down to
save the reader. The digression had no application whatever ; and the paragraph
above has been retained to prove my readiness to spare every readable sentence.
I now give the sum of the whole passage. An old gentleman lived at Moon ;
Miss Yates was his handsome daughter. Hartpole was her neighbour, and ad
mirer, but not her lover. Romance, like bad poetry, is easily boiled down to a bad
jelly.

312 barrington's personal sketches
even more dreadful than m the former connection. He -wrote to
me, expressmg the fud extent of his feehngs — that is, as fudy as
pen could convey them. But imperfect indeed must be aU
words which attempt to describe mtensity of feeUng. It was
from blots and scratches, and here and there the dried-up staiu
of a tear, rather than from words, that I gathered the excess of
his mental agony. He required me to advise him — a task to
the execution of which I was utterly mcompetent. AU I could
properly advise him to, was what I knew he would not comply
with — ^namely, to come over to Ireland, and endeavour to con
quer the influence of his passion, or at least to take no decisive
step in divulgmg it tiU the law had pronounced its sentence on
his existing connection. Such decree was not mdeed necessary ;
but to have it upon record was judged ad-visable. Though the
incipient proceedings had been taken by his proctor, they were
not completed, and Mary Sloven's marriage never was formady
declared a nudity by the sentence of the Ecclesiastical Court,
nor was she ever technicaUy separated from the deluded Hart
pole. Under aU these circumstances I was bewUdered as to what
ought to be my friend's futm-e conduct, when I was one morning
greatly surprised by the sudden appearance of Hartpole at my
breakfast-table, obviously in better health ; his eye sparkled,
and there was an air of satisfaction diffused over his features
which convinced me that some decisive step had been taken by
him. He lost no time in telling me that he had proposed for
Miss Otway to her father and mother ; that she herseK had con
sented ; that Mr. aud Mrs. Otway had come over to have his
fortune investigated, and wished to see me with as Uttle delay
as convenient. I could not but start on hearing ad this, and decUned enter
ing at ad into the business with Mr. Otway tdl George had
given me a written Ucense to communicate with hhn as I
pleased. He acceded to aU I deshed, and the next mormng I
waited on that gentleman.
I never felt more embarrassed in my life than at this mter-

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 313
-view. I had m the interim made myseK master of Mr. Otway's
character, and the knowledge by no means contributed to ease
my scruples or diminish my embarrassment. However, to my
astonishment, a very short time disposed of both, and in a way
which I had conceived impossible.
I found Colonel Cooke Otway a strong-minded, steady,
peremptory, gentlemanly man, obviously with more head than
heart, and with sufficient good sense to appear good-natured.
He mtroduced me to Mrs. Otway, whose character requhed no
research. It was ordinary, but amiable. She had evidently
great kindness of heart, and her conduct was unKorndy re
ported to be such as left nothing to amend either as wife or
mother* Miss Maria Otway united in her appearance, her manners,
and her obvious disposition, most of those amiable and engaging
traits which the age of eighteen so frequently developes in a
female. Her figure, in height rather below the middle stature,
had just arrived at that proportionate fulness which forms the
just medium between the round and slender, and without the
defects of either gives the advantages of both. Her limbs, cast
in the mould of perfect symmetry, were moved with that ease
and moderate activity which constitute the natural grace of
female action. Her features smaU, and not strictly justifying
the epithet beautKul, yet formed in theh assemblage a blooming
and expressive index of the young heart that ruled them ; and
the disadvantage of a less prominent profile than should be was
almost disregarded on account of the brdhant dehcacy of her
complexion. Her blue eyes were untutored ; but her smde was
intoxicatmg, and my friend was bound in the trammels of female
witchery, f
Over such a man as Hartpole the victory of Miss Otway's
beauty was complete, and the result of that unfortunate passion
convinces me that a man, unless his judgment be superior to his
sensibdity, cannot commit an act of greater fody than to encou-
* How this was so quickly discovered does not appear,
t Ban-ington had a keen eye "in a fine frenzy roUing.''

314 barrington's personal SKETCHES
rage an attachment to any woman whom he thinks everybody
else must admhe as wed as himseK. *
Mr. Otway at ouce opened the business, and told me Hart
pole had referred him to me for a statement of his estates and
financial situation. On this point I had come fully prepared.
Hartpole's chcumstances exceeded rather than fed below Mr
Otway's expectation.
" I am quite satisfied, my dear sir," said he to me, with a
signfficant nod ; " you know that in Ireland we always make a
smaU aUowance for a Stratford connection."
I now found my embarrassment recommence, but determined
at every risk to free myself from aU future responsibiUty or
reproach. I therefore informed Colonel Otway exphcitly of Hart
pole's marriage, and that no sentence had as yet been pro
nounced to declare that marriage a nuUity, though m point of
law it was so.
Having heard me throughout -with the greatest complacency,
he took me by the hand. " My dear sh," said he, with a smde
which at first surprised me, " I am happy to teU you that I was
fuUy apprised before I came to Ireland of all the chcumstances
you have related to me, and do not consider them any impedi
ment to the present negotiation."
The negotiation went on. Miss Sleven was no more re
garded ; and after a deal of discussion, but no difference of
opmion, ad the terms were agreed upon, and the settlements
prepared for a marriage, in all its results as unfortunate for the
young people, and as culpable in tlie old, as any that ever came
within my recoUection.
A circumstance of singular and not very auspicious nature
occurred on the first step towards the completion of that dl-
starred aUiance. It was necessary to procure a hcense from the
Prerogative Court for the solemnisation of the marriage in the
* Discoursing on the subject alluded to here, but not at aU thinking of Sir
Jonah, the late Purceli O'Gorman, judge of the County KUkenny, observed to me,
" It is a false and cowardly maxim ; and if it prevaUed, would be of iufinite injury
to the sex. They are all beautiful, you know — beautiful to distraction ! "

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 315
city of Dublin, and Hartpole's uncle, the honourable Benjamin
O'Ned Stratford, now Earl of Aldborough, attended with George
upon Doctor Duigenan, then judge of the prerogative, for that
purpose. The doctor, who when hritated was the most outrageous
judge that ever presided in a civd law court, was on the bench
officiatmg upon their arrival Benjamin conceived that his rank
and intimacy with the Doctor would have procured him at least
common ci-viUty, but in this he was egregiously mistaken.
Benjamin O'Ned Stratford, who attended his nephew on that
dangerous expedition, was endowed with several good-natured
quaUties ; but, as folks said, rather inclined to the pleasures of
litigation. In every famdy which is not very popular there is
always one of whom people in general say, " Oh! he is the best of
them;" and this was Benjamin's reputation in the Stratford
famdy.* * The noble Earl had then also the appeUation of " Blind Ben,'' which had
been conferred on him by the witty Lady Aldborough, and which ought not to
have been by any means considered derogatory, inasmuch as his name is cer
tainly Benjamin, and one of his eyes was actually out ; and as the abrupt mode
of its quitting his Lordship's head was rather humorous, it may be amusing to
mention it.
He had once, as he thought, the honour of kiUing a crane. Benjamin's evil
genius, however, maliciously scattered the shot, and the crane had only been what
they caU in Ireland kilt ; but feeling pretty sure that her death was determined
on, she resolved to die heroically, and not unrevenged. She fell, and lying
motionless, seduced her assassin to come and -wring her head off, according to the
usual rules and practices of humanity. The honourable sportsman approached
triumphantly, and stooping to seize the spolia opima, Madam Crane, having as
good eyes of her own as the one that took aim at her, iu return of his compliment,
darted her long biU plump into the head of the Honourable Benjamin O'Neil
Stratford, entering through the very same window which he had closed the
shutters of to take his aim. She, in fact, tumed the honourable gentleman's eye
clean out of its natural residence ; and being thus fully gratified by extinguishing
the Ught in one of her enemy's lanterns, she resigned her body to be plucked,
stuffed, and roasted, in the usual manner, as was performed accordingly. Thus,
though her slayer was writhing in agony, his family was fuUy revenged by feast
ing on his tormentor. Daily consultations were held to ascertain whether her long
rapier had not actuaUy penetrated the brain of the honourable Benjamin. One of
the tenants being heard to say, iu a most untenant-like manner, that it might in

316 barrington's personal sketches
On theh arrival in the presence of the doctor, who pretended
never to know anybody m court, he asked " Who those people
were?" and on being informed, proceeded to mquhe what
business brought them there.
The honourable Benjamin answered, " that he wanted a mar
riage-license for his nephew, George Hartpole of Shrewl Castle,
Esq., and Miss Maria Otway, County Tipperary."
He had scarcely pronounced the words when the doctor,
rismg with the utmost vehemence, roared out, "George Hart
pole ! George Hartpole ! is that the rascal who has another wKe
Uving ?"
George, struck motionless, shrank within himself ; but Ben
jamin, not bemg so easdy frightened, said somethmg equaUy
warm, whereupon the doctor, without further ceremony, rushed
at him, seized him by the codar, and cried, " Do you want me to
countenance bigamy, you viUains?" at the same time roaring to
his crier and servants to "turn the feUows out!" which order
was vhtuaUy performed.
The fact was, the suit of nuUity had been actuaUy com
menced in the Court, but not having been proceeded on, the
judge only knew Hartpole as a married man upon record, and it
certainly could not appear very correct of the honourable Benja-
mm to apply to the same judge who was to try the vahdity of
the first marriage to grant his hcense for the solemnisation of a
second whdst the first remained undecided. On Hartpole's mmd
the circumstance made an indelible impression, and he never after
wards took any further proceedmgs in the cause then mstituted.
What was now to be done, since no hcense could be .obtamed
such case be all for the best, was asked his reason for so undutiful an expression ;
and replied, that if she had just pricked his honour's brain, may be it might have
let out the humours therein, which would have done no harm either to his honour
or to Baltinglass. — {Author's n/jte.)
This is a thundering note, and richly deserves to be retained, if only for the
sake of a remark it drew from Captain Holmes — "Jonah's residence in Paris
greatly improved him ; he grew more Irish every day, and was Uked the better for
it. Count de la Vigne once called him, with enthusiasm, " the ApoUo Belvedere
of Hibernians,''

of his O'WN TIMES. 317
in Dubhn ? A general consultation was held ; Mr Otway (stiU
singularly to me) appeared to regard the circumstance as a mere
bagatelle. I thought far otherwise ; and it was so deeply en
graven on Hartpole's mind, that he mentioned it to me not three
days previously to his dissolution, as having foreboded ad his
subsequent misfortunes.
It was at length agreed upon that he should be married in
the diocese of Kddare, by a Ucense from the bishop's surrogate
there. This was in effect accomplished. I was not present at
the ceremony ; after which the parties pursued their journey to
Castle Otway, where, in the midst of everything that was desirable
on earth, Hartpole commenced the trial of his new connection.
Spite of these apparent advantages, however, my friend soon
began either to find or conjure up new and dangerous sources of
uneasmess. He continued some months at Castle Otway, Ustless
and devoured by ennui ; he pmed for a change of scene, and
longed to return to his hereditary domain. His health, too,
steaddy, although slowly, decUned ; yet he took no medical
ad'vice : the remote symptoms of consumption began to exhibit
themselves. But, amidst all this, he fancied for a whde that he
possessed everything he could wish for ; his wife dady improved
in her person, her manners were dehghtful, her conduct unex
ceptionable. Maria was adored by her parents. The thought of separatmg
from them was to her almost unbearable. Her reluctance could
not be concealed from the sharp eye of her uneasy husband.
Every mark of affection la-vished by her on her parents, he con
sidered as if filched from him. He thought her heart should have
no room for any attachments but to himself, whereas it had been
whody pre-occupied by fiUal tenderness. In a word, she had
never loved Hartpole, for whom she felt no other than a neutral
species of attachment.*
* This excessive, siUy, apron-string love has often caused misery midst all the
elements of domestic bliss. How frequently has the current of conjugal love been
disturbed aud thwarted by a bUlet from home I If this little note have one suc
cessful embassy, let the Missus pray for Barrington.

318 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
At length it was agreed that they should come, on a visit, to
my house in Dubhn for some time, and that her mother should
afterwards stay -with her at Shrewl Castle, tdl Maria was gradu
aUy reconcded to the dreaded change, and to final residence
with a man who I beheve she early discovered was not exactly
calculated to make her happy. The story of Mary Sleven, I
beheve, she bad not heard ; K she had, I am pretty sure she
never would have left the protection of her father.
When Hartpole arrived at my house, I soon perceived that
my gloomy auguries had been too wed grounded. I found his
mind bewddered ; he received no enjoyment from readmg ; bis
health did not permit strong exercise ; he took no pleasure m
new and strange society, but, on the contrary, pmed for his o-wn
home, his free associates, his steward, his tenants, his coUiers,
and above aU, for a passive, fond companion, who should have no
wish but her husband's.
Now, none of these things were to Maria's taste, and she
yielded to the inroads of discontent, as I think, unreasonably :
stdl, this feeling never showed itself with offensive prominence.
She gave way to every desire expressed by her husband, but her
acquiescence seemed to me Uke that of a -victim. I have often
noticed that, even whilst she intimated her obedience, her averted
eye betrayed a rebel tear, and she only awaited the moment when
it might gush out with safety, and reUeve her.
I perceived that, unless some step was taken to occupy
George's miad, a residence at Shrewl Castle would surely pro
claim to the world both his folly and his ruin. I therefore
applied to Mr. Pelham, then secretary in Ireland, to procure
Hartpole promotion to the office of high-sherhf for Queen's
County for the ensuing year, 1794. My application was im
mediately conceded. I also took out for hhn a commission of
the peace. Meanwhile his old castle was in part newly furnished,
and I was happy to see that he felt a sort of gratffication m the
appomtment of sheriff; and though in a state of health badly
calculated to execute the duties of such an office, the occupation
of his mmd would, I hoped, make ample amends for his neces-

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 319
sary personal exertions. If that year had passed favourably, it
was my intention to have recommended a tour to some foreign
country, where change of cUmate and of scene inight tend to
restore my friend's health, to amuse his mind, and perhaps to
make a deshable alteration in the feehngs both of himself and
his -wife ; but Heaven decreed otherwise.
Whdst on theh -visit at my house, I perceived in Hartpole's
disposition, among other traits which so close a communion
could scarcely fad to develop, one which I had never before
suspected in him — -jealousy, the most terrible of human passions.
His jealousy had no fixed object on which to fasten itself, but
wandered from person to person. Indeed, it could have no rest
ing-place ; for Maria was blameless. But in the eye of my friend
she had gudt — the gudt of being attractive ; and he conceived
that everybody must love her as he did himseK.
This melancholy and morbid state of mind appeared to me
Ukely to mcrease from residence in a metropohs, and I hastened
his departure for Shrewl Castle, to take upon himseK the office
of high sheriff. I did not go with them, for my mind misgave
me : her mother met them there, and mnocently completed the
rum of her chddren by a step, the consequences whereof should
ever be a warrdng to -wives, to parents, and to husbands !
At Shrewl Mrs. Otway perceived George's ideal malady ;
she was a sdly woman who fancied she was -wise, and thought
she never could, do -wrong because she always intended to do
right. She proposed to Maria a most desperate remedy to cure
her husband of his jealousy, though she did not reflect that it
might probably be at the expense of his existence, and certainly
of her daughter's duty. They consphed together, and -wrote two
or three letters directed to Mrs. Hartpole, without signature, but
professing love and designatmg meetings. These they took
measures to drop so as Hartpole inight accidentaUy find some of
them, and thus they thought in the end to convince him of his
foUy, and laugh him out of his suspicions.
The result may be easdy anticipated by those who have
read 'vrith attention the character of the husband He became

320 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
outrageous ; the development did not pacify him ; and his par
oxysm was nearly fatal. Maria was in consequence but Uttle
better, and the unexpected result of her own injudicious conduct
nearly distracted the unhappy mother. But it was too late to
retrieve theh error : the die was thrown ; Hartpole was inflexible ;
and the first I heard of it was Maria's departure to her father's,
and a final separation : — and thus, after a marriage of Uttle more
than eighteen months, that iU-starred young man, completely
the sport of fortune, became once more soUtary! Labouring
under the false idea that he could soon conquer his attachment,
he made Maria an ample separate mamtenance, and determined
to go to Lisbon, where he thought a change of scene might,
perhaps, restore his peace, and the cUmate his shattered con
stitution. Before he saUed, I endeavoured in vain to reconcUe them.
She did not love him weU enough to risk a further residence at
Shrewl, in the absence of her connections ; and his mmd was
case-hardened against the whole family from which she sprang.
His reasons to me for parting from her finaUy were at least
plausible. "I acquit her at once," said he, "of ever ha-vmg sho-wn a
symptom of impropriety, nay even of giddiness : there I was
-wrong, and I o-wn it ; but she has proved herseK perfectly capable
of, and expert at, deception; and the woman that has practised
deception for my sake would be equaUy capable of practising it
for her own. So far from curing my error, she has confirmed me
in it ; and when confidence ceases separation ought to ensue."
Hartpole shortly after embarked for Portugal, and only
returned to termmate his short career by a Imgermg and painful
death. On his arrival at Lisbon without any amendment either m
mind or body, I felt, and I am sure he did hhnseK, that the
world was fast receding from him. The mffianly manners of the
person whom he had chosen as a led captain were httle congenial
to his own characteristic mddness. He had, however, a most
faithful valet ; and after a few posts, I conceived, from his letters.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 321
that his spirits had very much improved, when a circumstance
occurred which, had he been in health, would have been merely
ludicrous ; but which the shattered state of his nerves rendered
bim almost incapable of bearing up against.
On his marriage he had given the commission he then held
to Mr. Otway, his brother-in-law ; on his separation, however,
he determmed to resume the profession, and accordingly pur
chased a commission in a regiment of the hne then raising by
his uncle the late Lord Aldborough ; and he had been gazetted
previously to his departure.
After he had been a short time at Lisbon, some mischievous
person, for some mischievous object, informed his uncle that he
had been dead a fortnight ! and, without further inquiry, that
nobleman resold George's commission, and an announcement
appeared in the newspapers, that Hartpole had faUen a victim
at Lisbon to consumption, adding the name of the party who
had succeeded him in his regiment.
His valet described to me coarsely the instantaneous effect
of this chcumstance on his master's mind. It seemed to pro
claim his fate by anticipation : — his commission was disposed of,
under the idea that he was actuady dead ; every melancholy
reflection crowded upon him ; he totady relapsed ; and 1 firmly
beheve that paragraph was his death-blow. After hngering
several months longer, he returned to England, and I received a
letter requesting me to meet him without delay at Bristol, and
stating that he had made his wiU. I immediately undertook
the journey, and took him over a horse which I conceived
adapted to him at that time. His sister was with hiin. His
figure was emaciated to the last degree, and he was sinking
rapidly into the grave.
The patient had, however, declined but Uttle in appetite,
when the disorder suddenly fixed itself in his throat, and he
ceased to have the power of eating ; he now enthely gave
Mmself up as a person who must die of hunger. This melan
choly scene almost distracted me, and produced a most unpleasant
affection of the head. The doctor gave us Uttle consolation ;
VOL. I. Y

322 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
and Hartpole himseK, though reduced to such a state, was ready
the most cheerful of the party, evincing a degree of resignation
at once heroic and touching. His wdl had been prepared by
Mr Lemans of Bristol, and executed whdst I was in Ireland ; he
informed us aU that I was joint executor with two of his uncles.
On the morning of Hartpole's death he sent for me to rise
and come to him. I found hhn in an agony of hunger — per
spiration in large drops rolUng down his face. He said, neither
food nor Uquid could descend mto his stomach ; that his ribs
had contracted inwards, as K con-vulsively dra-wn together ; and
that he was in great pain. I cannot describe my emotion ! He
walked about his room and spoke to me earnestly on many
subjects, on some of which I have been, and ever shad be, totaUy
sUent. At length he caUed me to the -window : — " Barrmgton,"
said he, "you see at a distance a very green field?" "Yes," I
rephed. "WeU," continued George, "it is my dymg request
that I may be buried there to-morrow evening!'
He spoke so calmly and strongly, that I felt much surprised.
He observed this, and said, " It is true : / am in the agonies of
death." I now caded in the doctor and Hartpole's servant.
The mvalid sat do^wn upon the bed ; and when he took me by
the hand, I shuddered, for it was burning hot, whilst every nerve
and sinew seemed to be in spasmodic action. I never had been
in coUision with a dying person before ; he pressed my hand
with great fervour, and murmured, " My friend !" — these were the
last words I heard him utter. I looked in his face ; his eyes
were glazed, his hps quivered, he laid his head on the pdlow,
and expired.
I disobeyed Hartpole's injunctions respectmg his funeral ;
for I had his body enclosed in a leaden coffin, and sent to be
mterred at Shrewl Castle, m the cemetery of his ancestors.
On the reading of the -wdl, his first bequest appeared to be
to — " his friend Barrington, six thousand pounds," together with
the reversion of his landed estates and colUeries, on the death of
his sisters without children. One had been some time married
and had none, the other was unmarried, but soon after made a

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 323
match with a gentleman of considerable property, but whom I
should thmk few young ladies of fortune would have fancied.
The uncles would not act as executors, considered me as an
interloper, and commenced a suit to annul the wdl, as prepared
under undue infiuence. Fortunately for my reputation, I had
never known the persons who prepared it, was in another king
dom at the time, and had not seen Hartpole for many months
before its execution. His sister was with him, not I.
I got a decree -without delay. The famdy of Stratford, who
preferred law to all other species of pastime, appealed. My
decree was confirmed, and they were burdened -with the whole
costs ; and, m effect, paid me six thousand pounds on an amicable
arrangement My reversion yielded me nothing ; for I fancy the
sisters have smce had nearly twenty chddren between them to
inherit it.
Thus ended Hartpole's hfe, and thus a most respectable famdy
became extmct. I neither looked to nor expected any legacy
from my friend, beyond a mourning-ring. He left numerous
other bequests, includmg a eonsiderable one to Mary Sleven,
whose fate I never heard.
The sequel of Maria Otway's history was not much less
melancholy than that of her unliappy partner, as she died pre
maturely, by the most affecting of aU deaths — in chddbhth. I
saw her after the separation, but never after George's decease.
Maria, I think, never had been attached to Hartpole, and,
within two years after his decease, she made another and a most
unexceptionable match — namely, with Mr. Prittie, the present
member for Tipperary. But Pro-vidence seemed to pursue fatady
even the rehct of my friend, and, at the age of twenty-three,
death cut off the survivor of that union which an unconcerned
spectator would have deemed so auspicious.
I have been diffuse on the memoirs of Hartpole, who was
sponsor to my only son. I felt myseK interested in almost every
material event of his career. To overlook our friendship, mdeed,
and his hberaUty, would have been ungrateful m any memoh of
myseK.

324 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
Before I quit these " fond records," and the associations which
they excite, I am tempted once more to revert to the pecuharities
of the Stratford famdy, which indeed present an ample field for
anecdote. More curious or dissimdar characters never surely
bore the same name !
Earl Eobert, one of those who declared war against me on
Hartpole's death, was surnamed " The Peer of a Hundred Wdls ;"
and it is matter of fact, that upon a trial at law m County
Wicklow, since his Lordship's death, fifty different wdls were
produced, together with a great number of affidavits, etc., also
signed by the Earl. Several of these documents are of the most
smgular description, highly dlustrative of the Earl's character,
and, I should think, amongst the most extraordinary papers exist
ing in the Prerogative Court.
It was a general rule with this peer to make a -wiU or codicU
in favour of any person with whom he was desirous of carrying
a point, taking especial care that the party should be made
acquainted with his proceeding. No sooner, however, was his
end accomplished, and other game started, than a fresh mstru-
ment annuUed aU the provisions of the precedmg one. Thus,
if deshous of obtainmg a lady's regards, he made a will in her
favour, and let her find it by accident ! He at length got £50,000
with a granddaughter of the Duke of Chandos.
In the cause before mentioned I was retained by the late
Earl John to argue that his brother was mad, and Mr. Plunket
was employed as my opponent. In support of our position it
was that the fifty wiUs were produced ; and I hesitate not to
say that either of them, had it emanated from any other mdi
vidual than his lordship, would have been deemed conclusive.
But the jury had known the party whose vagaries they were
summoned to decide upon ; and therefore foimd, as usual, in
favour of his lordship's last wid. I subsequently asked one of
those gentlemen the grounds of theh verdict ; and his answer
was^" We aU knew weU that the testator was more *****
than fool. Did you ever hear of anybody taking him in?"
And the truth is, the jury were right ; for I never met with a

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 325
man who had more worldly sense and tact than Eobert, Earl of
Aldborough, and, owing to my close connection with his nephew,
Hartpole, I had abundant opportunities of judging.
The present Countess Dowager of Aldborough was m the
habit of uttering jeux d' esprit with more spirit and grace than
any woman in the world. She often cut deeply ; but so keen
and pohshed was the edge of her wit, that the patient was never
mangled. The cause of her nammg the Honourable and Eeverend
Paul Stratford, her brother-in-law, " Holy Paul," was droU
enough. Mount Ned, a remarkably fine old country house,
furnished in the ancient style, was that ecclesiastic's family
mansion, wherein he resided many years, but of which it was
thought he at last grew thed. One wmdy night this house,
some time after it had been insured to a large amount, most
peiversely and mhaculously took fire. No water was to be had ;
the flames raged ; the tenants bustled, jostled, and tumbled over
each other m a general uproar and zeal to save his reverence's
great house — his reverence alone, meek and resigned, beheld
the voracious element devour his hereditary property, piously
attributmg the evil solely to the just -wiU of Pro-vidence as a
punishment for his having vexed his mother some years before
her death! Under this impression, the Hon. and Eev. Paul
adopted the only rational and pious means of extinguishing the
conflagration : he fed on his knees in front of the blazing man
sion, and, -with clasped and uphfted hands, besought the Lord
to show him mercy and extinguish the flames. The people
around exerted themselves, whdst practicable, to bring out the
furniture piecemeal, and range it on the grass-plat. Paul no
sooner perceived the result of theh exertions than, stdl on his
knees, he cried out — " Stop, stop ! throw ad my valuables back
into the flames ! never fly, my friends, in the face of heaven !
when the Almighty resolved to burn my house He most . cer
tainly mtended to destroy the furniture. I feel resigned. The
Lord's wiU be done !"
The tenants reluctantly obeyed his orders ; but unfortu-

326 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
nately for " Holy Paul," the msurauce company, when appUed
to for payment of his losses, differed altogether from his
reverence as to the dispensation of Pro-vidence, and absolutely
refused to pay any part of the damage incurred.
So much disrepute did the Hon. and Eev. Paul get into
by this occurrence, that people were not prone to employ him
on clerical functions, and his nephew himseK peremptordy
dechned bemg married by him. In fact, the stam of Holy
Paul's character was mordinate love of money. He had very
good property, but was totady averse to paymg away anythiag.
He was put into prison by his niece's husband, where he long
remamed rather than render a due account ; and when at length
he did so, he refused to pay a few pounds fees, and contmued
voluntardy in confinement until his death.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 327

HAMILTON EOWAN AND THE BAE.
There were few persons whose history was connected with that
of Ireland during my time, who excited my mterest in a greater
degree than Mr. Hamilton Eowan. The dark points of tlds
gentleman's character have been assiduously exhibited by persons
who knew httle or nothmg of his hfe, and that too, long after he
had ceased to be an obnoxious character. I -will endeavour to
show the obverse of the medal ; and I claim the meed of perfect
disinterestedness, which wdl, I think, be awarded, when I state
that I never had the least social intercourse with Mr. Eowan,
whose hne of pohtics was always decidedly opposed to my
own. Archibald Hamilton Eowan (I believe he stdl Uves) is a
gentleman of most respectable famUy and of ample fortune : con
sidered merely as a private character, I fancy there are few who
wdl not give him fud credit for every quahty which does honour
to that station m society. As a phdanthropist, he certahdy
carried his ideas even beyond reason, and to a degree of excess
which I ready thmk laid in his mind the foundation of aU his
enthusiastic proceedmgs, both m common hfe and m pohtics.
The first interview I had wdth this gentleman did not occupy
more ' than a few minutes ; but it was of a most impressive
nature, and though now eight-and-thirty years back, appears as
fresh to my eye as K it took place yesterday — in truth, I beUeve
it must be equaUy present to every mdi-vidual of the company
who sur-vives, and is not too old to remember anythmg.
There is generaUy m every metropoUs some temporary mci-
dent which serves as a common subject of conversation ; some
thing which nominally excites interest, but which in fact nobody
cares a sous about, though for the day it sells aU the newspapers.

328 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
and gives employment to every tongue till some new occurrence
happens to work up curiosity and change the topic.
In 1788 a very young girl, of the name of Mary Ned, had
been dl-treated by a person unkno-wn, aided by a woman. The
late Lord Carhampton was supposed to be the transgressor, but
without any proof whatsoever of his Lordship's culpabdity.
The humour of Hamilton Eowan, which had a sort of Quixotic
tendency to resist all oppression and to redress every species of
-wrong, led him to take up the cause of Mary NeU 'with a zeal
and enthusiastic perseverance which nobody but the knight of
La Mancha could have exceeded. Day and night the iU-treat-
ment of this girl was the subject of his thoughts, his actions, his
dreams : he even went about preaching a kind of crusade m her
favour, and succeeded m gammg a great many partisans among
the citizens ; and in short, he eventuaUy obtained a con-viction
of the woman as accessary to a crime, the perpetrator whereof
remained undiscovered, and she accordingly received sentence of
death. Stdl Mary Ned was not bettered by this con-viction : she
was utterly unpro-vided for, had suffered much, and seemed quite
-wretched. Yet there were not wanting persons who doubted
her truth, decried her former character, and represented her
story as that of an impostor : this not only hurt the feeUngs and
phdanthropy, but the pride of HamUton Eowan ;. and he vowed
personal vengeance agamst aU her calumniators, high and low.
At this time about twenty young barristers, includmg myseK,
had formed a dinner club in Dublia : we had taken large apart
ments for the purpose ; and as we were not yet troubled -with too
much business, were m the habit of fariag luxuriously every day,
and taking a bottle of the best claret which could be obtaiaed.*
There never existed a more cheerful, nor haK so cheap, a
dinner club. One day, whdst dining with our usual hdarity, the
servant informed us that a gentleman below stahs desired to be
* One of us, CounseUor Townley Fitgate, afterwards chairman of Wicklow
County, ha-ving a pleasure cutter of his owu iu the harbour of DubUn, used to
send her to smuggle claret for us from the Isle of Man ; he made a friend of one
of the tide-waiters, and we consequently had the very best wines on the cheapest
possible terms. — {Author's note.)

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 329
admitted for a moment. We considered it to be some brother-
barrister who requested permission to join our party, and desired
him to be shown up. What was our surprise, however, on per-
cei'vmg the figure that presented itseK ! — a man, who might have
served as model for a Hercules, his gigantic limbs conveying the
idea of almost supernatural strength : his shoulders, arms, and
broad chest, were the very emblems of muscular energy ; and his
flat, rough countenance, overshadowed by enormous dark eye
brows, and deeply furrowed by strong hues of 'vigour and
fortitude, completed one of the finest, yet most formidable figures
I had ever beheld. He was very wed dressed : close by his side
stalked m a shaggy Newfoundland dog of correspondmg magni
tude, -with hah a foot long, and who, K he should be voraciously
inchned, seemed wed able to devour a barrister or two without
overchargmg his stomach ; as he entered, indeed, he alternately
looked at us and then up at his master, as if only awaiting the
orders of the latter to commence the onslaught. His master held
in his hand a large, yeUow, knotted club, slung by a leathern
thong round his great -wrist : he had also a long smaU-sword by
his side.This apparition walked deUberately up to the table ; and
ha-ving made his obeisance with seendng courtesy, a short pause
ensued, during which he looked round on ad the company with
an aspect, K not stern, yet dl calculated to set our ininds at ease
either as to his or his dog's ulterior intentions.
" Gentlemen ! " at length he said, in a tone and "with an air
at once so mdd and courteous, nay so pohshed, as fairly to give
the Ue, as it were, to his gigantic and threatening figure : " Gen
tlemen ! I have heard with very great regret that some members
of this club have been so mdiscreet as to calumniate the charac
ter of Mary Ned, which, from the part I have taken, I feel
identffied -with my o-wn : K any present hath done so, I doubt
not he -wid now have the candour and courage to avow it.— TVho
avows it ? " The dog looked up at him again ; he returned the
glance ; but contented himself, for the present, with patting the
animal's head, and was silent : so were we.

330 barrington's personal sketches
The extreme surprise mdeed with which our party was seized,
bordermg almost on consternation, rendered aU consultation as to
a reply out of the question ; and never did I see the old axiom
that "what is everybody's busmess is nobody's busmess" more
thoroughly exempUfied. A few of the company whispered each
his neighbour, and I perceived one or two steal a fruit-kuKe under
the table-cloth, m case of extremities ; but no one made any
reply. We were eighteen m number ; and as neither would or
could answer for the others, it would require eighteen rephes to
satisfy the giant's single query ; and I fancy some of us could not
have rephed to his satisfaction, and stuck to the truth into the
bargain. He repeated his demand, elevatmg his tone each time, thrice :
"Does any gentleman avow it?" A faint buzz now chculated
round the room, but there was no answer whatsover. Communi
cation was cut off, and there was a dead sdence : at length our
visitor said, with a loud voice, that he must suppose, K any gen
tleman had made any observations or assertions against Mary
Neil's character he would have had the courage and sphit to avow
it ; " therefore," continued he, " I shad take it for granted that
my information was erroneous ; and, m that pomt of -view, I
regret having alarmed your society." And, without another
word he bowed three times very low, and rethed backwards to
ward the door, his dog also backing out -with equal pohteness,
where, with a salaam doubly ceremonious, Mr. Eowan ended this
extraordinary interview. On the first of his departing bows, by
a simultaneous impulse, we ad rose and returned his salute, al
most touching the table with our noses, but stdl in profound
sdence ; which booing on both sides was repeated, as I have
said, tid he was fahly out of the room. Three or four of the
company then ran hastdy to the window to be sure that he
and the dog were clear off into the street ; and no sooner had
this satisfactory denouement been ascertained, than a general
roar of laughter ensued, and we talked it over in a hundred
different ways : the whole of our arguments, however, tumed
upon the question " which had behaved the politest upon the

of his own times. 133

occasion?" but not one word was uttered as to which had be
haved the stoutest.*
This sphit of false chivalry, which took such enthe possession
of Hamilton Eowaii's understandmg, was soon diverted into the
channels of political theory ; and from the discussion of general
poUtics he advanced to the contemplation of sedition. His
career in this respect was short : — he was tried and convicted of
chculatmg a factious paper, and sentenced to a hea-vy fine and a
long imprisonment, durmg which pohtical charges of a much
more serious nature were arrayed against him. He fortunately
escaped from prison to the house of Mr. Evans of Portrane, near
Dublin, and got off in a fishing-boat to France, where, after
numerous dangers, he at length arrived safely. Eowan subse
quently resided some years in America, in which country he had
leisure for reflection, and saw plainly the fody and mischief of
his former conduct. The government found that his contrition
was smcere ; he eventuaUy received His Majesty's free pardon ;
and I have smce seen him and his famdy at the Castle dra-wing-
rooms in dresses singularly splendid, where they were wed re
ceived by the Viceroy and by many of the nobility and gentry :
and people should consider that His Majesty's free pardon for
poUtical offences is always meant to wipe away every mjurious
feehng from his subjects' recoUection. "f"
* The style of this description is almost faultless throughout. Here and there
it is a Uttle racy ; but upon the whole I cannot deny it the applause of true wit ;
a commodity as hard of discernment as a cock egg.
t Archibald HamUton, who assumed his mother's name, Rowan, was bom in
1751. He died in 1834, and was placed in the vaults of St. Mary's Church,
DubUn. He was educated at Westminster school and at Cambridge. His youth
was remarkable for an insatiable love of pranks, adventure, daring, and notoriety;
the last a passion of irrepressible exuberance in every vUlage and every caUing
in Ireland. He was born to a good fortune, and mixed weU at his starting.
Having become acquainted with Lord C. Montague, governor of South CaroUna,
he went with him as his private secretary, aud retm^ued to Cambridge after an
absence of three months. His expensive habits brought him into difBculties, from
which his mother extricated him. When he occupied a house on Houuslow
' Heath, his coachman was the famous " sixteen - string Jack," who it is said,
clandestinely used his master's hunters in the charitable work of lightennlg the
nocturnal travellers of their burthens on the dreary heath. In France he became

332 barrington's personal sketches
The mention of Mr Eowan reminds me of an anecdote of a
singular nature, extremely affecting, and which at the time was
the subject of much conversation ; and as a connection was
aUeged to exist between him and the unfortunate gentleman to
whom it relates, which connection had nearly proved fatal to
Mr. Eowan, I consider this not an mappropriate place to aUude
to the circumstance.
acquainted with the unfortunate George Robert Fitzgerald, to whom he acted second
in the ferocious duel with Mr. Boggs. In his thirtieth year he married Miss Dawson
of Carrickmacross, a young lady that does not appear to have imposed much re
straint upon his Quixotic temperament. After the purchase of Eathcoffey, in the
County Kildare, in 1784, he removed to Dublin, where the business of Mary Neil
soon blew him into publicity. Not long after he joined his father's company of
volunteers at Killyleagh, and was elected delegate for the County Down. For an
infiammatory paper, attributed to him and Tandy, and circulated iu 1794 among
the volunteers, he was visited with au ex-officio by the attorney-general. After
much delay he was brought to trial, aud defended by Curran in an exceedingly
fine, glowing, but rather flaring speech, well calculated to produce an impression
on the most exquisitely plastic material in the world, an Irish brain. But not
withstanding all the vehement and tumultuous eloquence, a verdict of guUty was
brought in. Rowan was sentenced to £500 fine ; two years' imprisonment ; and
heavy bail for seven years' good beha"vlour. While in confinement Tone gave
him a copy of his " Statement of the Situation of Ireland, " of which Rowan made
two transcripts. One of these he gave to the Rev. Mr. Jackson to be forwarded
to France — a business which he intrusted to his false companion, Cockayne. This
feUow was in Pitt's pay ; directed the parcel to Hamburg, from whence it found
its way to the minister, and, as a matter of course, brought Jackson into his fatal
trouble, Cockayne was brought before the privy councU ; Jackson thrown into
Newgate ; and Rowan so reasonably alarmed for his Ufe, that he instantly took
measures to secure his escape from prison. As soon as he got into locomotion he
went to Mr. Sweetman's house at Baldoyle. This gentleman put him into a fish
ing wherry with two boatmen named Sheridan, aud wished him a safe voyage to
France, Connected with his flight some little romances are told, of no interest
but to the tedium of a honeymoon or the boulimia of a novel-reader.
To the daring credit of Glare and Castlereagh, who were thwarted by the Eng
Ush Chancellor, they seconded the efforts of his noble wife to obtain a free pardon
for Mr. Rowan. In answer to a manly petition to the king, written in July 1802,
Eowan obtained permission to return to England ; aud subsequently, through
Castlereagh's interest, he was restored to his country, his family, and fortune.
No man ever better deserved the royal clemency, his domestic feUcity, or his
country's confidence and esteem. He outlived his loving wife and brave sons.
The eldest. Captain Gawin Rowan HamUton, was a naval oflicer who had greatly
distinguished himself

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 333
Mr Jackson, an English clergyman, who had come over to
assist m organising a revolution in Ireland, had been arrested m
that country, tried, and found gudty of high treason in corre
spondmg with the enemy in France. I was in court when Mr.
Jackson was brought up to receive sentence of death ; and I
beheve whoever was present must recodect it as one of the most
touchmg and uncommon scenes which appeared during that
eventful period.
He was conducted into the usual place where prisoners stand
to receive sentence. He was obviously much affected as he en
tered ; his limbs seemed to totter, and large drops of perspiration
roded down his face. He was supposed to fear death, and to be
in great terror. The judge began the usual admonition before he
pronounced sentence : the prisoner seemed to regard it but Uttle,
appearmg abstracted by mternal agony. This was stUl attributed
to apprehension : he covered his face, and seemed smking : the
judge paused — the crowd evinced surprise — and the sheriff, on
examination, declared the prisoner was too ill to hear his sentence.
Meanwhde, the -wretched culprit continued to droop : and at
length, his limbs gi'ving way, he feU ! A visitation so unexampled
created a great sensation in the court : a physician was immedi
ately summoned, but too late ; Jackson had eluded his denouncers,
and was no more.
It was discovered that, previous to his coming into Court, he
had taken a large quantity of arsenic and aquafortis mixed in
tea. No judgment, of course, was pronounced agahist him. He
had a splendid funeral : and, to the astonishment of Dublin,
it was attended by several members of parliament and barristers !
a Mr Tigh, and counseUor Eichard Guinness, were amongst
them. It is worthy of observation, that I was always on friendly,
nay iatimate terms, -with many leading persons of the two most
hostde and mtolerant pohtical bodies that could possibly exist
together in one country ; and hi the midst of the most tumultu
ous and bloody scenes, I did not find that I had one enemy.
It is singular, but true, that my attachment to the government.

334 barrington's personal sketches
and my activity in support of it, yet placed me in no danger
from its mveterate enemies; and in several mstances I was
sought as mediator between the rebel and Lord Kdwarden, then
attorney-general;* of whom, now he is no more, it is but justice
to say, that of ad the law officers and official servants of the
crown I ever had communication with, the most kind-hearted,
clement, and honourable, was one whose manners and whose
name conveyed a very different reputation. I know that he
had been sohcited to take some harsh measures as to the barris
ters who attended Jackson's funeral ; and though he might have
been justffied hi doing so, he said, " that both the honour of his
profession and the feelings of his own mind prevented him from
giving publicity to, or stamping as a crime, what he was sure
in its nature could only be inadvertency."
* He was at that time Mr. Wolfe. An information ex officio had been filed
agaiust a printer in Cork for a seditious newspaper : it turned out that the two
CounseUors Sheares were the real editors. They begged of me to mediate with the
attorney-general. He had always a strong feeUng for the honour and character
of his profession, and forgave all parties ou conditions which I all hut vouched for,
but to which they certainly did not adhere. — {Author's note.)
[Barrington is wrong ; no obligation was entered into, but a condition which
never occurred ; and which I can't yet mention. This information I had from
Cloncurry — somewhere about the suppression of the Blacquiere Papers. The late
Captain Le-wis of Prospect, Waterford, an old hero of Maida, whose son is now in
the 65th, was quite aware that no bargain was entered into. It is very important
that I should speak. Captain Coote of the Commissariat bore the message to Sir
Jonah ; and I think no honourable mau will blame me for defending Sheares.]

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 335

SELF-DECAPITATION.
Amongst my memorandums of singular incidents, I find one
which even now affords me as much amusement as such a cir
cumstance can possibly admit of ; and as it is, at the same time,
highly characteristic of the people amongst whom it occurred, in
that -view I relate it. A man decapitating himself by mistake is
iadeed a blunder of true Hibernian character.
[It shames me to have to ted that this serious preface is
Ulustrated by an outrageous caricature of Paddy. Here it is.
A peasant going to mow, with his scythe over his shoulder, has
his attention arrested by a salmon which fancies that his tad is
unseen because Ms head is stuck in the mud. "Ned, dear!"
cries his companion, "is it not a pity we haven't a spear?"
Whereupon Ned seizes the handle of his scythe, and, in a sudden
attempt at using it as a spear, cuts off his own head and his
companion's ear. So much for Buckmgham ! This, so Uke the
adventurous experiments of Carleton, is foUowed by cottager's
phUosophic reflection, that it is mighty odd he is not hindered
from eating oats, but kdt, shot, battered, and burnt, if he attempts
to drink them. Wdl he not be a cruel rogue who -wUl restore
this chapter ?]

336 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES

FATHEE O'LEAEY.
I FREQUENTLY had au opportunity of meeting at my father-m-
law's, Mr. Grogan' s, where he often dined, a most worthy priest.
Father O'Leary,* and have hstened frequently with great zest to
anecdotes which he used to ted with a quamt yet sphited humour
quite unique. His manner, his air, his countenance, ad bespoke
wit, talent, and a good heart. I Uked his company excessively,
and have often regretted I did not cultivate his acquaintance
more, or recollect his witticisms better. It was singular, but it
was fact, that even before Father O'Leary opened his hps, a
stranger would say, " That is an Irishman," and at the same time
guess hhn to be a priest.
One anecdote in particular I remember. Conung from St.
Omer, he told us, he stopped a few days to -visit a brother priest
in the town of Boulogne Sur Mer. Here he heard of a great
curiosity which ad the people were running to see — a cmious
bear that some fishermen had taken at sea out of a -wreck ; it had
sense, and attempted to utter a sort of lingo which they caded
patois, but which nobody understood.
O'Leary gave his six sous to see the wonder, which was shown
at the port by candle-hght, and was a very odd kind of animal,
no doubt. The bear had been taught a hundred tricks, aU to be
performed at the keeper's word of command. It was late in the
evening when O'Leary saw him, and the bear seemed sulky ; the
* Born near Dunmanway, County Cork, in 1729 ; died in 1802 ; and buried in
the churchyard of Old St. Pancras, London. He was educated at the College of
St. Maloe's, and resided there for fom'-and-twenty years. He became a pensioner
of Government ; but his pen does uot appear to have been basely used. His Ufe
left no stain on his habit, while his genius was a credit to his profession. I have
added this under the instruction of Mr. Fitzpatrick, iu whose praise we cannot
speak too much. He is the author of the Sham Squire.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 337
keeper, however, with a short spike at the end of a pole, made
him move about briskly. He marked on sand what o'clock it
was, -with his paw, and distinguished the men and women in a
very conucal way ; in fact, our priest was quite diverted. The
beast at length grew thed ; the keeper hit him with the pole ;
he sthred a httle, but continued quite suden : his master coaxed
him — no ! he would not work ! At length the brute of a keeper
gave him two or three sharp pricks with the goad, when he roared
out most tremendously, and rising on his hind legs, swore at his
tormentor m very good native Irish. O'Leary waited no longer,
but went immediately to the mayor, whom he informed that the
blackguards of fishermen had sewed up a poor Irishman in a
bearskin, and were sho-wing hhn for six sous ! This civic digni
tary, who had himself seen the bear, would not beheve our friend :
at last O'Leary prevailed on him to accompany him to the room.
On theh arrival the bear was stdl upon duty ; and O'Leary,
stepping up to him, says, " Gand e tha hawn, Pat ?" (How do you
do, Pat?) — " Slanger a manugouth" (Pretty well, tbank'ee), says
the bear The people were surprised to hear how plainly he
spoke ; but the mayor dhectly ordered him to be ripped up ; and,
after some opposition and a good deal of difficulty, Pat stepped
forth, stark naked, out of the bearskin wherein he had been four
teen or fifteen days most cleverly stitched. The women made
off, the men stood astonished, and the mayor ordered the
keepers to be put in gaol unless they satisfied him ; but that was
presently done. The bear afterwards told O'Leary that he was
very wed fed, and did not care much about the clothing, only
they worked him too hard. The fishermen had found him at sea
on a hencoop, which had saved him from going to the bottom
¦with a ship wherem he had a httle venture of dried cod from
Dungarvon, and which was bound from Waterford to BUboa.
He could not speak a word of any language but Irish, and had
never been at sea before. The fishermen had brought him in,
fed him wed, and endeavoured to repay themselves by showing
him as a curiosity.
O'Leary's mode of teUing this story was quite admirable. I
VOL. I. z

338 barrington's personal sketches
never heard any anecdote (and I beheve this one to have been
true)* related -with so much genuine droUery, which was en
hanced by his not changmg a muscle himseK whde every one of
his hearers was m a paroxysm of laughter
Another anecdote he used to teU with incomparable dramatic
humour. By-the-by, aU his stories were hi some way national ;
and this gives me occasion to remark, that I thmk Ireland is at
this moment nearly as Uttle kno-wn on many parts of the Conti
nent as it seems to have been then. I have myseK heard it more
than once spoken of as an English tovm.
At Nancy, where Father O'Leary was traveUing, his native
country happened to be mentioned, when one of the soeiete, a
quiet French farmer of Burgundy, asked in an unassuming tone,
" If Ireland stood enxore ?" " Encore !" said an astonished John
BuU, a courier coming from Germany, " encore I to be sure she
does : we have her yet, I assure you. Monsieur." " Though
neither very safe nor very sound," mterposed an officer of the
Irish brigade, who happened to be present, looking over signffi-
cantly at O'Leary, and not very complacently at the courier. —
" And pray. Monsieur," rejoined the John BuU to the Frenchman,
"why encore?" — "Pardon, Monsieur," rephed the Frenchman,
" I heard it had been worn out (fatigui) long ago by the great
number of people that were h-ving in it !"
The fact is, the Frenchman had been told, and ready under
stood, that Ireland was a large house where the Enghsh were
wont to send their idle vagabonds, and from whence they were
* Sir Jonah affects excessive faciUty of beUef, and often credits his readers -with
a little too much of that attribute. O'Leary was capable of such stories as the
above ; he saw an appetite for them, aud fed it somewhat freely. His remains,
by no means scanty, are droU and pleasant enough, but rarely 'witty in a strict
sense. An exceUent memoir of 0'Le.^ry and his vigorous writings, political and
polemical, has been lately published by the Rev. Mr, Buckley of Cork,
As to the specimen of wit that follows in the text, " the less that's said about
that the better !" as Father Prout replied to Dick Eon.iyne, when asked how the
subscription for "the peal of beUs for his cathtdral " was getting on. The cathe
dral was the little pai-ish chapel of far-famed Watergrasshill. The reference to this
edifice piqued his reverence more than the sick-list, as he used to caU it, of the
subscribers to the parish beU.

of his own TIMES. 339
drawn out again as they were wanted to fill the ranks of the
army : — and (I speak from my own personal knowledge) ia
some mterior parts of the Continent the existence of Ireland
as a nation is totaUy unknown, or it is at best considered as
about a match for Jersey, etc. On the sea-coasts they are better
informed. This need not surprise us, when we have heard of a
native of St. Helena, who never had been out of the island, who
seriously asked an EngUsh officer " If there were many landing-
places m England ?"*
* In an agreeable conversation -with an English gentleman, whom I met whUe
stopping at the Bath Hotel, I made the remark that it was the misfortune of Old
Ireland to be stiU as little known as New Ireland by her big sister. "For ex
ample," said I triumphantly, "the editor of one of your newspapers, the other
day, diverted the Shannon from Limerick and made it flow through Belfast."
"That was great diversion for you aU," he answered ; "you ought to thank
him." This section was concluded by the author with a sage pensSe of Paddy on the
tenacity of Lord Ventry's -vital thread. — " I'm sure," cried the plebeian patrician,
who devoutly -wished for the solution of continuity, "I'm sure if God hadn't
quite forgot his lordship, he would have taken him to himself many a day ago."
This has heen otherwise expressed: "If the devU wanted a real rogue, he'd
have had Dick BaUey long since." And again — " 'Tis high time for Mick Walsh
to go home ; they're heaping up for him these forty years." In my youth I heard
a dozen different developments of the idea, nearly all by demoniac agency.

340 barrington's personal sketches

DEATH OF LOED EOSSMOEE.
I SHALL proceed to the httle narrative thus copiously pre
faced.* The circumstances will, I think, be admitted as of an ex
traordinary nature : they were not connected with the workmgs
of imagination ; depended not on the fancy of a single individual :
the occurrence was, altogether, both in its character and in its
possible application, far beyond the speculations of man. But
let me endeavour to soften and prepare my mind for the strange
recital by some more pleasing recoUections connected -with the
principal subject of it.
; * The preface aUuded to is suppressed both for the author's sake and the
reader's ; but some few passages are retained, both to justify the editor's discretion
and to put a stumbUng-block in the way of any dishonest attempt at a faithful
reprint. It consists of vapid reflections on Dr. Jolmson's style, BosweU's life, and
the beUef in ghosts. The foUowing gems are fair specimens : —
1. I feel my own fallibility poignantly when I avow that I condemn parts of
his Lexicon. 2. The EngUsli language has been advancing in its o'wn jog-trot
way from the days of Bayley to those of Johnson. Words were then very
intelligible, and women foimd no difiiculty in pronouncing them. 3. The great
lexicographer soou convinced the British people that they had been reading, -writ
ing, and spouting in a starved, contracted tongue. 4. There are so many able
and idle gentlemen with pens stuck behind their ears ready for action, etc. 5. I
am certain that when I became a doctor of laws I did not feel my morals iu the
least improved by the diploma. 6. Faith, grounded on the phenomena of nature,
is the true foundation of morality and reUgion (what a comical theology !). 7. No
human demonstration can cope with that presented by the face of nature.
As to the Ohost Theory, a few words may be profitably employed. The belief
in ghosts is not superstitious, since it is Scriptm-al, as we know from the Old aud
the New Testament. It is not uuphilosophical, since the existence of neither matter
nor spirit is necessary to seeing, for seeing takes place in dreams and in disease ;
and so does hearing too. Although the possibUity of ghosts, real existing ghosts,
may be shown from Scripture, this is not the question I am considering now ; but
the reasonableness of believing in them which depends on seeing them— a matter
quite independent of their actual existence. The popular belief is based on the
.credit given to those who declared they had seen them. A question now arises—

of HIS OWN TIMES. 341
Immediately after the rebeUion of 1798, the Countess Dowa
ger of Mayo discovered a man concealed under her bed, and was
so terrifled that she instantly fled from her country residence in
the most beautiful part of County Wicklow : she departed for
DubUn, whence she immediately saUed for England, and never
after returned. Her Ladyship directed her agent, Mr. Davis,
immediately to dispose of her residence, demesne, and every-
thmg -within the house and on the grounds, for whatever they
might bring. All property in the disturbed districts being then
of smaU comparative value, and there having been a battle fought
at Mount Kennedy, near her house, a short time previous, I pur
chased the whole estate, as it stood, at a very moderate price, and
on the ensuing day was put into possession of my new mansion.
I found a house not large, but very neat and in good order, with
a considerable quantity of furniture, some excellent wines, etc.,
and the lands in fuU produce. The demesne was not extensive,
can a real ghost be actually seen ? "Wliy, if it were not a real ghost it could not
be seen. The error of the wiseacres is, they confound a ghost— or what is as good
as a ghost for aU useful purposes — the capacity of seeing one ; the wiseacres, with
the "view of putting an end to what they call a superstition, confound the popular
ghost -with spirit, which, they say, cannot be seen with corporal eyes. The Di-vine
Spirit, indeed, cannot, at least without a special manifestation, or under some veil.
Of other spirits we caunot speak with any precision. We have no means of arriv
ing at any knowledge of it except by poking at whatever may be readUy conjec
tured to resemble it in some way. For instance, there is light. So subtle is it
that it flows unimpeded through that pane of hard glass, cased by two surfaces of
great density, and almost as hard as diamond. In a jiffy the penetrating subtlety
can be baffled by smearing on a thin fihn of black paint. With all their velocity
you can catch those rays ; and with aU their intactibUity you can bend them, by
interposing your maguifying-glass, which wiU concentrate them all at a point into
an invisible flame. Again, you can, with a bit of glass, and in spite of the nimble-
ness and imponderableness of those rays, separate them into their constituent
elements, and project them in definite files within the prismatic spectrum. Could
not some one look after a lens or a prism to operate on spirit and reduce it to can
onical obedience ? Then there is electricity, which casts into the shade light itself,
aud all the powers of the air. There is a post-angel that flies through a thousand
miles of metal in Jack Robinson's time. Here is a thing to which no form, colour,
or conception has yet been given. There is nothing unreasonable or impious in
supposing spirit has some relationship with those entities. Again, a fluid has been
discovered, without the mediation of which the light of the sun would be utterly

342 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
but delightfully situated in a district which, I beUeve, for the
union of rural beauties and mild uniformity of cUmate, few spots
can excel.
I have already disclaimed all pretensions, as a writer, to the
power of scenic description or imaginary landscape — though no
person existing is more gratffied than myself with the contem
plation of splendid scenery : in saying this, however, I do not
mean that savage sublimity of landscape — that majestic assem
blage of stupendous mountain and roaring cataract — of colossal
rocks and innumerable precipices — where nature appears to
designate to the bear and the eagle, to the boar or chamois,
those tracts which she originally created for their peculiar accom
modation : to the enthusiastic sketcher and the high-wrought
tourist I yield an exclusive right to those interesting regions,
which are far too sublime for my ordinary pencd. I own that I
prefer that luxurious scenery where the art and industry of man
inoperative. If this be not another step towards coming to an understanding -with
spirits and ghosts, why, it should make us always prepared to receive them -with
courage and composure.
But I must resist the lures of dissertation, and shortly declare what we may
fancy as possible, without being absurd or superstitious. An actual ghost must
have an actual form ; therefore those born blind cannot see ghosts, so they need
not be afraid. But others may, that is by ideal -vision, or by the genuine appari
tion of spirit under the conditions of form. There is no absurdity in supposing
that two or three spectra of the same indi-vidual, whether dead or aUve, may be
-visible to persons in different places at the very same moment. This point seems
to involve the question of ubiquity. I do not think it does ; for it does not, by
any means amount to saying that the same thing, in a corporal sense, can be in
two places at the same time. Finally, the possibility of a spiritual apparition is
one thing ; the belief in the fact is quite another. The former is not inconsistent
with our intelligence, nor rendered improbable by any wise saws or expostulation
as to its folly and futdUty : the latter must ever depend on the circumstances con
nected with the fact, or what is related as such. There are on record a few nar
ratives of those so-called supernatural appearances, which it is not easy to disbelieve.
This Uttle disoussioa on the Ohost yAeon/ may make amends forthe suppressed
portions. The reader -will not be displeased ut finding it so sUghtly connected
with the sequel ; the phenomenon in which I neither pretend to explain, nor to
believe, I have known a thing to be vouched for by fifty people, which I knew
not to have taken place, and which, physically or metaphysically, could not have
taken place.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 343
go hand in hand with the embellishments of Nature, and where
Providence, smUing, combines her blessings with her beauties.
Were I asked to exemplify my ideas of rural, animated,
cheering landscape, I should say — " My friend, travel ! — visit
that narrow region which we call the golden belt of Jreland ;
explore every league from the metropolis to the Meeting of the
Waters : journey which way you please, you will flnd the native
myrtle and indigenous arbutus, glowing throughout the severest
wmter, and forming the ordmary cottage-fence."
The scenery of Wicklow is doubtless on a very minor scale,
quite unable to compete with the grandeur and immensity of
continental landscape ; even to our own KiUarney it is not
comparable ; but it possesses a genial glowing luxury, whereof
more elevated scenery is often destitute. It is, besides, in the
world. Its beauties seem alive. It blooms — it blossoms — the
medow climate extracts from every shrub a tribute of fragrance
wherewith the atmosphere is saturated, and through such a
medium does the refreshing rain descend to brighten the hues of
the evergreens !
The site of my sylvan residence, Dunran, was nearly in the
centre of the golden belt, about fifteen mdes from the capital ;
but owing to the varied nature of the country, it appeared far
more distant. Bounded by the beautiful glen of the Downs, at
the foot of the magnificent BeUevue, and the more distant Sugar-
loaf mountain caded the Dargle, together with Tinnehinch, less
celebrated for its unrivaUed scenery than as the residence of
Ireland's first patriot,* the dark deep glen, the black lake, and
mystic vale of Lugelaw, contrasted quite magicaUy with the
highly-cultivated beauties of Dunran. In fine, I found myself
enveloped by the hundred beauties of that enchanting district,
which, though of one family, were rendered yet more attractive
by the variety of their features ; and had I not been tied to_
laborious duties, I should infallibly have sought refuge there
altogether from the cares of the world.
* Henry Grattan. It must be owned that Jonah's landscape peneU was not a
very flowing one.

344 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
One of the greatest pleasures I enjoyed whdst resident at
Dunran, was the near abode of the late Lord Eossmore, at that
time commander-in-chief in Ireland. His Lordship knew my
father, and, from my commencement in pubhc Ufe, had been my
friend, and a smcere one. He was a Scotsman born, but had
come to Ireland when very young, as page to the Lord-Lieu
tenant. He had married an heiress ; bad purchased the estate
of Mount Kennedy ; budt a noble mansion ; laid out some of
the finest gardens in Ireland ; and, in fact, improved the
demesne as far as taste, skiU, and money could accomplish.
He was what may be caUed a remarkably fine old man, quite
the gentleman, and when at Mount Kennedy quite the country
gentleman. He Uved in a style few people can attain to. His
table, suppUed by his own farms, was fit for the Viceroy himself,
yet was ever spread for his neighbours. In a word, no man ever
kept a more even hand in society than Lord Eossmore, and no
man was ever better repaid by universal esteem. Had his con
nections possessed his understanding, and practised his habits,
they would probably have found more friends when they wanted
them. This intimacy at Mount Kennedy gave rise to an occurrence
the most extraordinary and inexplicable of my whole existence —
an occurrence which for many years occupied my thoughts and
wrought on my imagination. Lord Eossmore was advanced m
years, but I never heard of his having had a single day's mdis
position. He bore, in his green old age, the appearance of
robust health. During the viceroyalty of Earl Hardwick, Lady
Barrington, at a drawing-room at Dublin Castle, met Lord Eoss
more. He had been making up one of his weekly parties for
Mount Kennedy, to commence the next day, and had sent down
orders for every preparation to be made. The Lord-Lieutenant
was to be of the company.
" My little farmer," said he to Lady Barrington, addressing
her by a pet name, " when you go home, tell Sir Jonah that no
busiaess is to prevent him from briuging you down to dine with
me to-morrow. I will have no ifs iu the matter — so teU him

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 345
that come he must!" She promised positively, and on her
return informed me of her engagement, to which I at once
agreed We retired to our chamber about twelve ; and towards
two in the morning I was awakened by a sound of a very
extraordinary nature. I hstened. It occurred first at short
intervals ; it resembled neither a voice nor an instrument ; it
was softer than any voice and wilder than any music, and
seemed to float in the air I don't know wherefore, but my heart
beat forcibly. Tbe sound became stiU more plamtive, till it
almost died away in the air; when a sudden change, as K
excited by a pang, altered its tone. It seemed descending. I
felt every nerve tremble. It was not a natural sound, nor could
I make out the point from whence it came.
At length I awakened Lady Barrington, who heard it as well
as myseK. She suggested that it might be an EoUan harp, but
to that instrument it bore no shnUitude. It was altogether a
different character of sound. My wKe at first appeared less
affected than I ; but subsequently she was more so.
We now went to a large wmdow in our bed-room, which
looked dhectly upon a smaU garden underneath. , The sound
seemed then obviously to ascend from a grass-plot immediately
below our window. It continued. Lady Barrington requested
that I would cad up her maid, which I did, and she was evidently
more affected than either of us. The sounds lasted for more than
haK-an-hour. At last a deep, hea-vy, throbbing sigh seemed to
issue from the spot, aud was shortly succeeded by a sharp but
low cry, and by the distinct exclamation, thrice repeated, of
" Eossmore — Eossmore — Eossmore ! " I will not attempt to
describe my own feelings ; indeed I cannot. The maid fled in
terror from the window, and it was with difficulty I prevaded on
Lady Barrington to return to bed. In about a minute after the
sound died gradually away, untd all was sdent.
Lady Barrington, who is not so superstitious as I, attributed
this circumstance to a hundred different causes, and made me
promise that I would not mention it next day at Mount Ken
nedy, since we should be thereby rendered laughing-stocks.

346 BAEEINGTON'S PERSONAL SKETCHES
At length, wearied with speculations, we fell into a sound
slumber. About seven the next morning a strong rap at my chamber-
door awakened me. The recoUection of the past night's adven
ture rushed instantly upon my mind, and rendered me very
unfit to be taken suddenly on any subject. It was Ught. I went
to the door, when my faithful servant, Lawler, exclaimed, on the
other side, " 0 Lord, sir ! " " What is the matter ? " said I
hurriedly. " Oh, sir ! " ejaculated he, " Lord Eossmore's foot
man was running past the door in great haste, and told me in
passing that my Lord, after coming from the Castle, had gone to
bed in perfect health, but that about haK after two this morning,
his own man, hearing a noise in his master's bed (he slept m the
same room), went to him, and found him in the agonies of
death ; and before he could alarm the other servants, aU was
over ! "
I conjecture nothing, I only relate the incident as un
equivocally matter of fact. Lord Eossmore was absolutely dymg
at the moment I heard his name pronounced Let sceptics draw
their own conclusions; perhaps natural causes may "be assigned;
but J am totally unequal to the task.
Atheism may ridicule me ; orthodoxy may despise me ;
bigotry may lecture me ; fanaticism might burn me ; yet in my
very faith I would seek consolation. It is, in my mind, better
to beUeve too much than too little ; and that is the only
theological crime of which I can be fairly accused.

OF HIS OVTSr TIMES. 347

MEMOEANDA CEITICA.
It is remarkable that the state of the Irish people, m its
various gradations of habit and society, has been best iUustrated
by two female authors — the one of more imaginative, the other
of purer narrative, powers; but each in her respective hne
possessmg very considerable merit.
Though a fiction, not free from numerous inaccuracies,
inappropriate dialogue, and forced incident, it is impossible to
peruse the "Wdd Irish Girl" of Lady Morgan without deep
interest, or to dispute its claims as a production of true national
feeUng as well as literary talent
That tale was the first and is perhaps the best of all her
¦writings. Compared with her " Ida of Athens," it strikingly
exhibits the author's fading off from the unsophisticated dictates
of nature to the less refined conceptions induced by what she
herself styles fashionable society.
To persons unacquainted with Ireland, the "Wild Irish
Girl" may appear an ordinary tale of romance and fancy ; but
to such as understand the ancient history of that people, it may
be considered as a delightful legend. The authoress might
perhaps have had somewhat in -view the last descendant of the
Irish princes, who did not altogether forget the station of his
forefathers. 0' Sullivan, lineally descended from the princes of Beare,
not many years since vegetated on a retired spot of his
hereditary dominions ; and though overwhelmed by poverty
and deprivation, kept up in his mind a visionary dignity.
Surveying from his wretched cottage that enchanting terri
tory over which his ancestors had reigned for centuries, I
have been told he never ceased to recodect his royal descent.

348 barrington's personal sketches
He was a man of gigantic stature and strength ; of uncouth, yet
authoritative mien — not shaming his pretensions by his pre
sence. He was frequently visited by those who went to view
Glengariff, and I have conversed with many who have seen
him ; but at a period when famihar intercourse has been
introduced between actual princes and their subjects, tendmg
undoubtedly to diminish in the latter the sense of "that
divinity which doth hedge a king," the poor descendant of the
renowned O'SuUivan had Uttle reason to expect much commi
seration from modem sensibihty.
The frequent and strange revolutions of the world within
the last forty years — the radical alterations m ad the material
habits of society — announced the commencement of a new era ;
and the ascendency of commerce over rank, and of avarice over
everything, completed the regeneration. But, above ad, the
loosening of those ties which bound kindred and famiUes m one
common interest to uphold their race and name ; the extmction
of that spirit of chivalry which sustained those ties, and the
common prostitution of the heraldic honours of antiquity,
have steeled the human mind against the lofty and noble
pretensions of birth and rank ; and whdst we superficiaUy decry
the principles of equality, we are traveUing towards them by the
shortest and most dangerous road that degeneracy and meanness
can point out.
I confess myself to be a determined enemy at once to
poUtical and social equaUty* — in the exercise of justice alone
should the principle exist ; in any other sense it never did and
never can for any length of time.
Miss Edgeworth's " Castle Eackrent" and " Fashionable
Tales" are incomparable in depicting truly several traits of the
rather modern Irish character. They are perhaps on one pomt
¦* This seems to be a strongly-expressed sentiment ; but the meaning is —
nothing. Social equality never existed, aud I believe was never looked for but
once by those fraternal eitoyem who saw it only in the operations of the
guillotine. Political equality has not yet been very clearly defined ; but in a
moderate sense it has been advocated by very decided Conservatives. I am
persuaded that Barrington's mind is not exactly portrayed in this place.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 349
somewhat overcharged ; but, for the most part, may be said to
exceed Lady Morgan's Irish novels. The fiction is less per
ceptible in them. They have a greater air of reaUty — of what
I have myself often and often observed and noted in full
progress and actual execution throughout my native country.
The landlord, the agent, and the attorney of " Castle Eackrent"
are neither fictitious nor even uncommon characters. And the
changes of landed property in the county where I was born,
owed, in nine cases out of ten, their origin, progress, and cata
strophe to mcidents in nowise differing from those so accurately
painted in Miss Edgeworth's narrative.
Though moderate fortunes have frequently and fairly been
reaUsed by agents ; yet, to be on the sure side of comfort and
security, a country gentleman who wishes to send down his
estate in tolerably good order to his family shoidd always be
his o-wn receiver, and compromise any claim rather than employ
an attorney to arrange it.
I recollect to have seen in Queen's County a Mr. Clerk, who
had been a working carpenter, and when making a bench for
the session justices at the court-house, was laughed at for taking
peculiar pains in planing and smoothing the seat of it. He
smdmgly observed that he did so to make it easy for himseK,
as he was resolved he would never die tid he had a right to sit
thereupon And he kept his word. He was an industrious
man, and became an agent. Honest, respectable, and kind-
hearted, he succeeded in all his efforts to accumulate an mde-
pendence. He did accumulate it, and uprightly. His character
kept pace with the increase of his property, and he Uved to sit
as a magistrate on that very bench that he sawed and planed
I wid not quit the subject without saying a word about
another of Lady Morgan's works — " Florence Macarthy," which,
"errors excepted," possesses an immensity of talent in the
delineation of the genuine Irish character The different judges
no one can mistake ; but the Crawleys are superlative, and
suffice to bring before my vision, in their full colouring, and
almost without a variation, persons and incidents whom and

350 barrington's personal sketches
which I have many a time encountered. Nothing is exaggerated
as to them ; and Crawley himseK is the perfect and plam model
of the combined agent, attorney, and magistrate. No people
under heaven could be so easdy tranquiUised and governed as
the Irish ; but that desirable end is alone attainable by the per
sonal endeavours of a liberal, humane, and resident aristocracy.
A third -writer on Ireland I allude to with more pride on
some points, and with less pleasure on others ; because, though
dubbed, par excellence, " The bard of Ireland," I have not yet
seen many Uterary productions of his, especiaUy on national sub
jects, that have afforded me au unalloyed feeling of gratffication.
He must not be displeased with the observations of perhaps
a truer friend than those who have led him to forget himseK.
His " Captain Eock," coming at the time it did and under the
sanction of his name, is the most exceptionable pubhcation," in
all its bearings as to Ireland, that I have yet seen. Doctor
Beattie says, in his Apology for Beligion, " K it does no good, it
can do no harm :" but, on the contrary, K " Captain Eock" does
no harm, it certainly does no good.
Had it been addressed to, or calculated for, the better orders,
the book would have been less noxious : but it is not calculated
to instruct those whose influence, example, or residence could
either amend or reform the abuses which the author certainly
exaggerates. It is not calculated to remedy the great and true
cause of Irish ruin — the absenteeism of the great landed pro
prietors : so much the reverse, it is directly adapted to increase
and confirm the real grievance, by scaring every landlord who
retains a sense of personal danger from returning to a country
where " Captain Eock " is proclaimed by the " Bard of Ireland"
to be an immortal Sovereign^
* It is a fine mixture of gaiety and good sense, an exceUent model of pure
EngUsh, and of easy, yet nervous, style. Sir Jonah was au indifferent critic in prose
and verse. Of the latter more ridiculous specimens could not easily be given than
those which incommoded the previous editions of his Personal Sketches, and which,
consequently have been unhesitatingly excluded from this.
+ I much doubt whether Captain Rock was understood by our author, or read
by him at all, except, perhaps, partiaUy. The letters of Rock first appeared in a

of HIS OWN TIMES. 351
Perhaps I write warmly myself ; I write not, however, for
distracted cottagers, but for proprietors and legislators ; and I
have endeavoured honestly to express my unalterable conviction
that it is by encouraging, conciUating, re-attaching, and recalling
the higher, and not by confusing and inflaming the lower orders
of society, that Ireland can be renovated.
Most undoubtedly Mr. Thomas Moore and Lady Morgan are
among the most distinguished modern writers of our country :
indeed, I know of none, except Miss Edgeworth, who has a
right to compete with either, in his or her respective depart
ment. But I can never repeat too often that I am not a critic,
although I choose to speak my mind strongly and freely. I
hope neither my friend Moore nor her Ladyship will be dis
pleased at my stating thus candidly my opinion of their public
characters : they would perhaps scout me as an adulator were I
to tell them what I thought of their private ones.
In concluding my ramblmg estimate * of the merits of these
two justly celebrated authors, let me bear in mind that they are
of different sexes, and recodect the pecuUar attributes of either.
Both of them are alike unsparing in their use of the bold
language of Uberty ; but Lady Morgan has improved her ideas
of freedom by contrasts on the European continent ; whilst
Thomas Moore has not improved his by the exemplification of
freedom in America. Lady Morgan has succeeded in adulterat
ing her refinement ; Thomas Moore has unsuccessfully en
deavoured to refine his grossness : she has abundant talent ; he
twopenny serial, pubUshed in London in 1826, as weU as I can remember. It had
a -wide circulation in Munster, and its influence was emoUient instead of irritating.
The "Eockites " or " "Whiteboys " were set agoing by that inextinguishable fire-
brand.'who robbed the Galway mail in 1812 — Roger O'Connor, who baptized his
tools from the initials of his name E. 0. C. The serious reference to the Immortal
Sovereign is stupidly founded on a bit of Moore's harmless jocularity. It is hard
to account for Jonah's splenetic disposition towards the author of the Melodies.
Fagu.s, the ill-starred chartist, was son of Eoger.
* I rely on the reader's good sense and taste for my meed of approbation in
having curbed Sir Jonah's useless rambles, with a -view of enhancing his interest
ing ones.

352 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
has abundant genius; and whatsoever distinction those terms
admit of indicates, in my mind, their relative merit.*
¦* This contrast of the merits of Lady Morgan and Moore is a perfect freak of
nature. Between them there was nothing in common, except that they were both
authors. We may as weU compare the bow of a fiddle and the beau of a drawing-
room. To retrace the paragraph, Moore made no attempt to refine his grossness ; he
relinquished it altogether. I am utterly ignorant of what is meant by the adultera
tion of Lady Morgan's refinement, or what her refinement consisted of or in. A
thick fog envelopes "the improvement of the ideas of freedom ;" but we can
make a guess at it. Much in the same way we come to xmderstand the exemplifi
cation of freedom in America, and how little Moore was improved by it. If Sir
Jonah alludes to the "Epistle to Lord Viscount Forbes from Washington," he is
quite inteUigible, and should have accompanied the allusion with a tone of satis
faction. That Moore's earliest political impressions bore strong traces of a repubUcan or
democratic stamp is undeniable, but how far those impressions were modified by
his visit to America is not fully discernible in that exceUent poem. He complains
only of the practical errors observed by him in the govemment of America ; of
such errors, too, as are the general attendants and most conspicuous plagues of
monarchy ; and, consequently, instead of concluding that his ideas of freedom
were not improved, we should rather think that his opinions underwent some -wise
modifications. Perhaps it was in America he found out for the first time that
democracy and aristocracy, as pure abstract principles, are both essentiaUy -wrong.
Or perhaps his notions may have only ripened in America ; ripened into the con-
"viction — let the people govern themselves, and there -wiU soon be an end of Uberty ;
let the aristocracy govern others, and there wiU be a speedy end of justice.
I shall here present the passage ou which those observations rest ; and the
reader will gladly accept them in lieu of the jingling trash I have withdrawn. I
may add that the Epistle to Forbes belongs to a more dignified and difficult class
of composition than almost any other in Moore. There are but two or three
examples of the kind in his works ; but they afford sufficient evidence that he
possessed a genius equal to much loftier themes than he was wont to apply himself to.
Fkom Moore's Epistle to Lokd Fokbes.
Already in this free, this virtuous state,
Which Frenchmen tell us was ordained by fate
To show the world what high perfection springs
From rabble senators and merchant kings —
Even here already patriots learn to steal
Their private perquisites from public weal,
And, guardians of the country's sacred fire.
Like Afric's priests, they let the flame for hire !
Those vaunted demagogues, who nobly rose

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 353
I knew them both before they had acquired any celebrity and
after they had attained to much. I esteemed them then, and
have no reason to disesteem them now : it is on their own
account that I wish some of the compositions of both had never
appeared ; and I really believe, upon due consideration, they will
themselves be of my way of thinkmg.
I recoUect Moore being one night at my house in Merrion
Square, during the spring of his celebrity, touching the piano
forte, in his own unique way, to " Eosa," his favourite amatory
sonnet : his head leant back ; now throwing up his ecstatic eyes
to heaven, as if to invoke refinement ; then casting them softly
sideways, and breathing out his chromatics to elevate, as the
ladies said, theh souls above the world, but at the same moment
convincmg them that they were completely mortaL
A Mrs. KeUy, a lady then d'dge mdr, movmg in the best
society of Ireland, sat on a chair behind Moore. I watched her
profile. Her hps quavered in unison with the piano, a sort of
amiable convulsion now and then raising the upper from the
under Up, composed a smde less pleasing than expressive ; her
eye softened, glazed ; and, half melting, she whispered to herself
the following words, which I, standing at the back of her chair,
From England's debtors to be England's foes ;
Who could their monarch in their purse forget.
And break allegiance but to cancel debt.
Have proved at length the mineral's tempting hue^
"Which makes a patriot, can unmake him too.
0 Freedom, Freedom ! how I hate thy cant :
Not Eastern bombast, not the savage rant
Of purpled madmen, were they numbered aU
From Roman Nero down to Russian Paul,
Could grate upon my ear so mean, so base.
As the dark jargon of that factious race.
Who, poor of heart and prodigal of words.
Born to be slaves and struggling to be lords.
But pant for Ucense, whUe they spurn control
And shout for rights, with rapine in their soul !
Lest those sentiments should be misinterpreted, I refer the reader to a very
exphcit commentary on them in Moore's equally vigorous poem Corruption.
VOL. I. 2 A

354 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
could not avoid hearing: — "Dear, dear!" lisped Mrs. KeUy,
" Moore, this is not /or the good of my soul I"*
I greatly admire the national, indeed patriotic, idea of col
lecting and publishing the Irish Melodies ; and it were to be
wished that some of them had less the appearance of havmg been
written per annum, f
Sir John Stevenson, that celebrated warbler, has melodised
a good many of these ; but he certainly has also melo-dramatised
a considerable portion of them. I think our rants and plauxties
would have answered just as well without either symphonies or
chromatics, and that the plaintive national music of Ireland does
not reach the heart a moment the sooner for passing through a mob
of scientific variations. Tawdry and modern upholstery would not
be very appropriate to the ancient tower of an Irish chieftain ; and
some of Sir John's proceedings, in melodising simpUcity, remind
me of the Eev. Mark Hare, who whitewashed the great rock of
Cashel, to give it a genteel appearance against the visitation.
As I do not attempt (I suppose I ought to sa,j presume) to be
a literary, so am I far less a musical critic, but I know what
pleases myself, and in that species of criticism + I cannot be
expected to yield to anybody.
As to my own authorship, I had business more important
than writing books in my early life ; but now, in my old days, it
is my greatest amusement, and nothing would give me more
satisfaction than hearing the free remarks of the critics on my
productions. -* This rich sally was buried alive in a codicU of seven lines, which were
retained in the second edition, revised aiid improved, according to the title-page !
+ This is a jocular allusion to the arrangement between Power, the publisher
of the Melodies, and their author. In Barrington's estimation, Moore's annuity,
arising from the published parts, had an injm-ious influence on his poetical efforts.
I have no doubt it had quite a different tendency. In the second edition the text
is here altered, but the original note absurdly retained.
t What pleases one's-self, pleases, in ninety-nine cases out of a liundi-ed, one
utterly unqualified to give an opinion, except for the benefit of individuals as
happUy situated as himself. Few pretend to be connoisseurs in painting, but
every one decides boldly on poetry and music. Ears, however, are generaUy better
screwed on than the heads that wear them.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 355

MEMOEANDA POETICA.
Theee cannot be a juster aphorism than " Poeta nascitur, non
fit ;" the paucity of those literary productions which deserve the
epithet of poetry, compared with the thousand volumes of what
rhyming authors call poems, forms a conclusive illustration.
A true poet lives for ever, a poetaster just tdl another reUeves
him in the chculatmg Ubraries, or on the todets of young ladies
— used to keep them awake at night, and send them to sleep in
the morning.
There may possibly be three degrees of excellence in true
poetry, but certahdy no more. A fourth-rate poet must be, in
my idea, a mere forger of rhymes, a manufacturer of versifica
tion. But, if he minds his prosody, and writes in a style either
vastly interesting, immensely tender, or delightfuUy luxurious,
he -wiU probably find readers amongst the fair sex from fifteen to
forty-five. Major Eoche, an Irishman, who in 1815 printed and pubUshed
at Paris a full and true hexameter account* of the .great battle
of Waterloo, with his own portrait emblazoned in the front and
the Duke of Wellington's in the rear, must certainly be held to
exceed in ingenuity all the poets and poetasters, great and small,
of the present generation.
The alphabetical printed Ust of subscribers to his work set
forth the name of every emperor, king, prmce, nobleman, general,
minister, and diplomatist — Eussian, Prussian, Austrian, German,
Dutch, EngUsh, Irish, Don Cossack, etc. etc. Such an imperial,
* Sir Jonah, had he Uved, would have been surprised to see that hexameterised
prose has become quite popular. This is taking hexameter in the classic sense ;
but further on it wUl be seen that the term is used, to designate our iambic penta
meter, or what is commonly known as the EngUsh heroic verse.

356 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
royal, and everyway magnificent list, was never before, nor ever
will be again, appended to any poem, ci-vd, political, mUitary,
religious, or scientific ; and as the major thought very truly
that a book so patronised and garnished must be worth at least
fifty times as much as any other poem of the same dimensions,
he stated that "a few copies might still be procured at two
guineas each." He succeeded admirably, and I believe got more
money at Paris than any one of the army did at Waterloo.
His introduction of the Duke of WelUngton was weU worth
the money. He described his Grace as Mars on horseback!
riding helter-skelter, and charging fiercely over everything in his
headlong course ; — friends and foes, men, women, and children,
ha-ving no chance of remaining perpendicular if they crossed his
way ; — his horse's hoofs striking flames of fire even out of the
regimental buttons of the dead bodies which he gadoped over !
whilst swords, muskets, spears, and cuirasses, pounded down by
trampling steed, formed as it were a turnpike-road whereupon
he seemed to fly in his endeavours to catch Buonaparte.
I really think Major Eoche^s idea of making Lord Wellington
Mars was a much better one than that of making him Achdles,
as they have done at Hyde Park Corner. Paris found out the
weak point of Achdles and finished him, but Mars is immortal ;
and though Diomed knocked him down, neither his carcass nor
character is a jot the worse.
The state of the feelings and propensities of men is regulated
by the amount of their years ; ladies, in general, stick to their
text longest. In early youth poetry flows from natural sensa
tions ; and at this period verses in general have much modesty,
much feeling, and a visible struggle to keep in with refine-
ment.-if In the next degree of age, which runs quite close upon the
former, the scene nevertheless sadly alters. We then see plain
* The transition, iu this paragraph, does uot owe its abruptness to the omis
sion of a few which preceded it in previous editions, and which were equally
drowsy and injudicious. In such " Sketches" as these, transitions of the kind are
to be expected.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 357
amatory sonnets tuming poor refinement out of company, and
showmg that it was not so very pure as we had reason to sup
pose. Next comes that stage wherein sensualists, wits, ballad-
singers, gourmands, and most kinds of poetasters, male and
female, give their varieties. This is rather a lasting stage, and
gently ghdes into and combines with the final one, fiUed by
satirists, psalmists, epigrammatists, and other specimens of an
tiquity and dl-nature. But I fancy this latter must be a very
unproductive hne of versification for the writer, as few ladies
ever read such things till after they begin to wear spectacles.
Few persons like to see themselves caricatured ; and the moment
a lady is con-vinced that she ceases to be an object of love, she
fancies that, as matter of course, she at once becomes an object
of ridicule ; so that she takes care to run no chance of reading
to her own mortffication, tdl she feels that it is time to com
mence devotee.
Oh ! that deUcious dream of life, when age is too far distant
to be seen, and chddhood fast receding from our vision — when
Nature pauses briefly between refinement and sensuality— first
imparting to our wondering senses what we are and what we
shad be, before she consigns us to the dangerous guardianship
of chance and of our passions !
That is the crisis when lasting traits of character begin to
bud and expatiate, and every effort should then be made to crop
and prune, and train the young shoots, whdst yet they retain
their ductde quahties.
During that period the youth is far too chary to avow a
passion which he does not fully comprehend, satisfied with
making kno-wn his feeUngs by deUcate aUusions, and thus con
triving to disclose the principle without mentioning .its existence.
AU sorts of pretty sentimentalities are employed to this end ;
shepherds and shepherdesses are pressed into the service, as are
likewise tropes of Arcadian happiness and simplicity, with
abundance of metaphorical roses with thorns to them— perfumes
and flowers.
A particular friend of mine, who, when a young man, had a

358 barrington's personal sketches
great propensity to faU in love and make verses, often told me his
whole progress in both. He entertained me one morning by show
ing me certain of his own effusions which tickled my curiosity.
Before he left school he wrote the foUowing lines on a Miss
Lyddy St John, who was herself a poetess of fourteen : —
I.
What sylph that fUts athwart the air.
Or hovers round its favourite fair,
Can paint such charms to fancy's eye,
Or feebly trace
The unconscious grace
Of ber for whom I sigh ?
II.
As silver flakes of faUing snow,
Tell the pure sphere from whence they flow.
So the chaste beauties of ber eye
Faintly impart
•The chaster heart
Of her for whom I sigh.*
Lyddy, however, objected to the last line of each stanza, as
she did not understand what he meant by sighing for her ; and
he not being able to solve the question, she seemed to entertam
rather a contempt for his intedects, and palpably gave the pre
ference to one of his schoolfellows — a bolder boy.
In the next stage towards maturity the poet and lover began
to know better what he was about; and determined to pay a
visit to the fah one, and try if any lucky circumstance might
give him a delicate opportunity of disclosing his sentiments and
sufferings. He unfortunately found that the innocent cause of his
torment had gone on a tour, and that his inter-view must be
adjourned sine die ; however, he explored the garden, sat down
in ad the arbours, walked pensively over the flower-plats ;
peeped into her chamber-window, which was on the ground-
floor, and embroidered with honeysuckles and jessamine ; his
very soul swelled with thoughts of love and rural retirement ;
* Retained for the instruction and encom-agement of the " young idea."

of his own times. 359
and thus his heart, as it were, burst open, and let out a gush of
poetry, which he immediately committed to writing in the garb
of a lamentation for the fair one's absence, and forced under the
window-frame of her bed-chamber ; after which he disconsolately
departed, though somewhat relieved by this effort of his Muse.
The words ran thus : —
Lamentation of Croneroe roK the Absence or its
Sylvan Nymph.
I.
Ah ! where has she wander'd ? ah, where has she stray'd ?
What clime now possesses our lost sylvan maid ? —
No myrtle now blossoms ; no tuUp wUl blow ;
And tbe Uvely arbutus now fades at Croneroe.
II.
No glo-wing carnation now waves round her seat ;
Nor crocus, nor cowsUp, weaves turf for her feet ;
And the woodbine's soft tendrils, once train'd by her hand.
Now wUd round her arbour distractedly stand.
III.
Her golden-clothed fishes now deaden their hue ;
The birds cease to warble — the wood-dove to coo ;
The cypress spreads wide, and the willow droops low.
And the noon's brightest ray can't enUven Croneroe.
IV.
In the low-winding glen, aU embosom'd in green.
Where the thrush courts ber muse, and the blackbird is seen.
The riU as it flows, Umpid, sUent, and slow.
Trickles do-wn the grey rock as the tears of Croneroe.
V.
Then return, sylvan maid, and the flowers wUl aU spring,
And the wood-dove wUl coo, and the linnet wUl sing ;
The gold-fish -wUl sparkle, the sUver streams flow,
And tbe noon-ray shine bright tbro' the glen of Croneroe.-*
Nothing very interesting occurred for above two months to
* 'What could Croly and Wordsworth say to this ? Is it not a description ot
nature— unaffected and unrestrained, and as true as the needle to the pole ? But
the disciples of the subjective school would finish the faithful picture by iuvest-
mg every leaf, tendrU, and tint with an encyclopedia of sentiment and phUosophy
as appropriate as the Meditations to the Broomstick.

360 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
our amorous lyrist, when he began to the of waiting for the
nymph of Croneroe, and grew fond of one of his own cousins,
without being able to give any very particular reason for it,
further than that he was becoming more and more enlightened
in the ways of the world. But this famdy flame soon burnt
itself out ; and he next fell into a sort of furious passion for a
fine, strong, ruddy, country girl, the parson's daughter ; she was
a capital housekeeper, and the parson himself a jody hunting
fedow. At his house there was a good table, and a hearty style
of joking ; which advantages, together with a walk in the shrub
bery, a sillabub under the cow, and a romp in the hay-making
field, soon sent poor refinement about its business. The poet
became absolutely mortal, and began to write common hexame
ters.* However, before he was confirmed in his mortahty, he
happened one day to mention a sylph to his new sweetheart ;
she merely replied that she never saw one, and asked her mamma
privately what it was, who desired her never to mention such a
word again.
But by the time he set out for Oxford he had got tolerably
well quit of aU his ethereal visions, celestials, and snowdrops ;
and to convince his love what an admiration he had for sensible,
substantial beauty, like hers, he wrote the following lines on a
blank leaf of her prayer-book, which she had left in his way, as
if suspecting his intention : — I.
Refinement 's a very nice thing in its way,
And so is platonic regard ;
Melting sympathy too — as the highfliers say —
Is the only true theme for a bard.
Then give them love's phantoms and flights for their pains ;
But grant me, ye gods ! flesh and blood and blue veins.
And dear Dolly — dear Dolly Haynes.
II.
I like that full fire and expression of eyes,
Where love's true material presides ;

Pentameters of a short and a long syllable in each foot.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 361
Witb a glance now and then to the jeUies and pies.
To ensure us good li-ving besides.
Ye refiners, take angels and sylphs for your pains ;
But grant me, ye gods ! flesh and blood and blue veins.
And dear DoUy — dear DoUy Haynes.
I should not omit mentioning here an incident which at the
time extremely amused me. A friend of mine, a barrister, whose
extravagant ideas of refinement have frequently proved a source
of great entertainment to me, was also a most enthusiastic ad-
mher of Mr. Thomas Moore's writings, prose and verse. I had
read over to him the foregoing rather " of the earth, earthy "
composition, to which he hstened with a shrug of the shoulders
and a contraction of the upper lip ; and 1 was desirous of
drawing out his opinion thereon by adverting to his own
favourite bard.
" Here," said I, " we have a fine iUustration of the natural
progress from refinement to sensuality — the amalgamation of
which principles is so beautifuUy depicted by Mr Thomas
Moore in his ' Loves of the Angels.' "
" Your observation is just," repUed my friend ; " I cannot
conceive why those elegant amours have been so much carped
at — since their only object is to prove that flesh and blood is in
very high estimation even -with the sphituals."
" What a triumph to mortality ! " repUed I.*
The poet and lover was soon flxed at the university, where
he shortly made fast acquaintance with a couple of hot young
Irishmen, who lost no time in easing him of the dregs of his
sentimentahty, and convinced him clearly that no rational man*
should ever be in love except when he is drunk, in which case
it signifies Uttle whom he falls in love with. Thus our youth
soon forgot the parsonage, and grew enamoured of the bottle ;
but having some lees of poetry stdl remaining within him, the
classics and the wine soon set them a fermenting ; and he now
wrote drinking-songs, hunting-songs, boating-songs, satires on
¦* The balance of this dialogue was duUer still ; quite a sufficient reason for
its suppression, without any reference to the bad taste of it. What immediately
succeeds is barely tolerable.

362 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
the shopkeepers' daughters, and lampoons on the fellows of
Jesus and Brazennose Colleges ; answered letters in verse, and,
in a word, turned out what the lads called a genius.
The reverend private tutor of these young Irishmen wrote
one day a letter to our poet in verse, inviting him to " meet at
dinner a few fellow-countrymen just arrived." The tutor was a
hard-going old parson, fond of wine and versification, who had
been sent over from Ireland by the father of the two young men
above aUuded to, with direction to " take care that the lads did
not fall into EngUsh morals, which would disquahfy them ever
after from living in their own proper country and natural society."
These instructions the tutor faithfuUy acted up to ; and the
young poet very much amused the whole party by his humour
and turn for rhyming ; and was compelled to swear that he
would pay them a visit, for a couple of years, at Belturbet in
Ireland, where they would show him what living was. Their
father was himself dotingly fond of poetry and the bagpipes,
and was induced to send them to Oxford only to please their
mother's brother, who was, most unfortunately, an EngUshman.
My friend's reply to the parson's invitation was also in verse,
and ran as follows : — it was not amiss for a young tipster, and
smacked, in some degree, both of Oxford and " Belturbet."
When parsons and poets their functions unite.
And court the old Muses to sing " an invite,"
The profane and the sacred connected -we find.
And are sure of a banquet to every man's mind.
Though on Pegasus mounted, to Bacchus we fly.
Yet we'll quaff just like Christians ; — our priest teUs us why :
" 'Tis moist hospitaUty banishes sin,
'Tis the wine-open'd heart lets benevolence in."
There — no longer — canting grace cools our spicy ragout,
WhUst the impatient champagne bristles up aU mousseu ;
Our eyes darting toward heaven, we cry — " Come, goblets give !
This old pagan cream teaches Christians to Uve ! "
Thus the pastor and flock wiU soon empty the bowl.
And its spirit divide 'twixt tbe head and tbe soul.
Though the Jove of our banquet no eagle can boast,
We'll have plenty of " kites" flying all round our host :

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 363
Midst loud peals of humour, undaunted we'll sit.
And for flashes of Ughtning have flashes of -wit :
Should bis Eeverence perceive that our spirits are laid
Then hot-pepper'd devUs he'U oaU to his aid.
And, aU Christians surpassing, old Tantalus see !
The more liquor he quaffs, stiU the drier be'U be !
But two modes of death sinful mortals should know,
Break their necks from Parnassus, or dro-wn in Bordeaux ;
And to which of those deaths I am doom'd from on high
I'm sure of a parson, who'U teach me to die.
Then who can refuse to accept of a dinner.
Where the bost is from Erin — a priest — saint — and sinner ?'*
In fact, this same friend of mine, of whose poetry, or rather
versification, I have thus given samples to the reader, is a very
pecuUar personage : bred to a profession which he never fol
lowed, with ample means and no occupation, he has arrived at a
ripe age without much increasing his stock of wisdom, or at ad
diminishing that of his peculiarity. He told me he found
his standard rehef against ennui was invoking the Muses,
which, by ransacking his ideas and puzzling his genius, operated
as a stimulus to his brain, and prevented that stagnation of the
fluids which our ablest nosologists say is so often the inducement
to suicide. My friend argues that the inexhaustible variety of
passions, propensities, sentiments, and so forth, inherent to the
human frame, and which poets, like noblemen's fools in days of
yore, have a license for daubing with any colours they think
proper, affords to the language of poetry a vast superiority over
that of prose ; which latter being in its nature but a hum-drum
concern, is generaUy expected to be reasonably correct, tolerably
iatedigible, and moderately decent; astringent qualifications
which our modern poets appear to have consphed to disregard.
My friend, however, observed that he himself was not
enabled to take other than a limited advantage of this Ucense —
inasmuch as he had been frequently jilted by the Muses, who
never would do more than flirt with him ; and hence, for want
of a sufficient modicum of inspiration, he was necessitated to put
¦* A formidable effusion.

364 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
up with the ordinary subjects of verse — such as epigrams, sathes,
odes on natal days, epitaphs on lap-dogs and little children,*
translations of Greek songs that he never saw, and of Italian
poetry that had never existed, etc. It was true, he went on to
inform me, he had occasionally flown at higher game in the
regions of poesy ; but, somehow or other, no bookseUer would
publish his effusions : one said they were too flat ; another that
they were too elevated ; a third characterised them as too wdd for
the critics ; and a fourth pronounced them too tame for the ladies.
At length, however, the true state of the matter was candidly
developed by a very intelUgent Presbyterian bookseUer in the
city, who told my friend that he was quite too late as to poetry,
with which the shops were crammed and the public nauseated.
My friend was proceeding to detail further the admonitory
conversation of this honest bibliopole, when I interrupted him
by asking, naturaUy enough, how he could continue to derive
any pleasure from a pursuit in which he admitted himseK to
have been so very unsuccessful ? to which he adroitly rephed,
" On the very same principle that a bad shot may have just as
much amusement as a capital sportsman ; perhaps more, — one
good hit being as gratifying to him as twenty to an undeviating
slaughterer" I coincided in my friend's remark, adding, that
the same sort of observation would apply to random jokers as
wed as rhymesters ; and that I have more than once absolutely
envied the inordinate happiness of a universal punster when he
chanced to say anything that had a symptom of wit in it.
My friend then, gravely opening his portfoUo, selected two of
his productions, which he gave me permission to pubUsh, par
ticularly as one of them had been most abruptly rejected by an
eminent newspaper, and the other by a magazine of considerable
reputation. The intended Magazine article ran as foUows: 
The Highlander.
A sans culotte from Caledonia's wUds,
Easp'd into form by Nature's roughest files.

OF HIS O'WN TIMES. 365
Hearing of savoury meats — of monies made —
Of unsmoked women — and of gaining trade ;
Kesolved, from sooty cot, to seek a town.
And to the lowlands boldly stump it do-wn.
But then, alas ! his garb would never do ; —
Tbe greasy kilt, bare loins, and tatter'd shoe :
Yet urged to better food and better fame,
He borrow'd breeches and assumed a name ;
Then truck'd his kUt, garter'd his motley hose.
New naU'd his heels, and oaped tbe peeping toes.
His freckled fist a swineherd's bludgeon -wields, —
His tried companion through the sties and fields,
(Pull many a jeering clo-wn had felt its sway)
Now to a cane promoted, helps its master's way.
PuU fifty bawbees Sandy bad in store.
And piteous tales had raised him fifty more :
His knife, his pipe, and eke his baubee bank,
In BasU pouch hung dangling from his flank :
No empty waUet on his shoulder floats :
Hard eggs, soft cheese, tobacco, salt, and oats,
Cramm'd in one end, wagg'd o'er his brawny chest.
And what was once a blanket poised the rest ;
Thus wealthy, viotuall'd, proud, content, and gay,
Down Grampian's sterUe steeps young Sandy wound his way.
Hail food ! hail raiment ! bail that happy lot
Which lured such genius from tbe smoky cot,
To mingle in the ranks of breecbes'd men.
And coin a name and famUy again !¦*
Where famed St. Andretv's turrets tower on high ;
Where learned doctors lecture, doze, and die ;
Where Knowledge sleeps, and Science seeks repose,
And mouldering haUs more moiddering heads disclose, —
Where Eoman VicgU pipes in Celtic verse.
And Grecian Homer sings to gods in Erse ; —
'Twas there that Sandy form'd his worldly creed,
Brush'd gowns, swept book-shelves, learn'd to shave and read :
Prom craft to craft his -wUling genius rose ;
When cash was scarce he wisely -wrought for clothes.
And thread-bare trophies, once the kirkmen's pride,
Mickle by mickle sweU'd bis waUet's side.

* So far those verses, though not very polished, are animated and picturesque.

366 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
WeU turn'd, weU wash'd, the rags denied tberr age.
Whilst Sandy's granite visage aped tbe sage.
Here, great Lavater ! bere thy science stands
Confess'd, and proved by more than mortal hands.
Though o'er bis features Nature's art we see.
Her deepest secrets are disclosed through thee.
The green-tinged eye, curl'd lip, and lowering brows.
Which malice harrows, and which treachery ploughs,
In deep-sunk furrows on his front we find,
TUling the crops that thrive in Sandy's mind.
No soft sensations can that face impart ;
No gratitude springs glo-wing from the heart ;
As deadly nigbt-sbade creeping on the ground,
He tries to poison what he cannot wound.
Yet Sandy bas a most consistent mind.
Too low to rise, too coarse to be refined,
Too rough to polish, and too loose to bind :
The other trifle is a mere jeu d'esprit, and cannot be dis
agreeable to anybody, unless it may be taken amiss by some
West Indian proprietor, whose probable touchiness at the intro
duction of the word slavery I do not feel called on to compas
sionate.
EPIGRAM.
Sir Sidney Smith and Miss Rumbold.
Says Sidney — " I'U put aU white slavery do-wn ;
All Europe I'U summon to arms ;"
But fair Eumbold repUed — " I'U reverse the renown ;
Por all men shall be slaves to my charms."
If thus, lovely champion, that tongue and those eyes
Can set aU mankind by tbe ears ;
Go — fire off your glances, explode a few sighs.
And make captive the Dey of Algiers !
Thus you'U rival Sir Sidney in glory and gains ;
He may conquer the tyrant — you'll lead him in chains.-*
* The extract from the poem of Boadicea, which appeared in the pre'vious
editions, does not, as the newspapers say, suit our columns. Requiescat in pace.
Amen. ,

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 367

THEATEICAL EECOLLECTIONS.
From my youth I was attached to theatrical representations, and
have stdl a clear recollection of many of the eminent performers
of my early days. My grandmother, with whom I resided for
many years, had sdver tickets of admission to Crow Street
Theatre, whither I was A'ery frequently sent.
The playhouses in DubUn were then lighted with tallow
candles, stuck into tin circles hanging from the middle of the
stage, . which were every now and then snuffed by some per
former ; and two soldiers, with fixed bayonets, always stood like
statues on each side the stage, close to the boxes, to keep the
audience in order. The galleries were very noisy and very droll.
The ladies and gentlemen in the boxes always went dressed out
nearly as for court ; the strictest etiquette and decorum were
preserved in that circle ; whilst the pit, as being fuU of critics
and wise men, was particularly respected, except when the young
gentlemen of the University occasionally forced themselves in to
revenge some insult, real or imagined, to a member of their
body ; on which occasions aU the ladies, well-dressed men, and
peaceable people generaUy, decamped forthwith ; and the young
gentlemen as generady proceeded to beat or turn out the residue
of the audience, and to break everything that came within their
reach. These exploits were by no means uncommon ; and the
number and rank of the young culprits were so great, that the
college would have been nearly depopulated, and many of the
great famiUes in Ireland enraged beyond measure, had the
students been expeUed or even rusticated.
I had the honour of being frequently present, and giving a
helping hand to our encounters both in the playhouses and
streets. We were in the habit of going about the latter on dark

368 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
nights, in coaches, flinging out halfpence, and breaking the
windows of ad the houses we rapidly drove by, to the astonish
ment and terror of the proprietors. At other times we used to
convey gunpowder squibs into aU the lamps in several streets at
once, and by longer or shorter fusees contrive to have them all
burst about the same time, breaking every lamp to shivers and
leaving whole streets in utter darkness. Occasionally we threw
large crackers into the chiua and glass-shops, and deUghted to
see the terrified shopkeepers trampling on their own porcelain
and cut-glass, for fear of an explosion. By way of a treat we
used sometimes to pay the watchmen to lend us their cloaks and
rattles, by virtue whereof we broke into the low prohibited
gambling-houses, knocked out the lights, drove the gamblers
down stairs, and then gave all theh stakes to the watchmen.
The whole body of watchmen belonging to one parish (that of
the Eound Church) were our sworn friends, and would take our
part against any other watchmen in Dublin. We made a perma
nent subscription, and paid each of these regularly seven shd-
lings a-week for his patronage. I mention these trifles out of a
thousand odd pranks as a part of my plan, to show, from a com
parison of the past with the present state of society in the Irish
metropolis, the extraordinary improvement which has taken
place, in point of decorum, withia the last half-century. The
young gentlemen of the University then were in a state of great
insubordination, not as to their learning, but their wUd habits.
Indeed, the singular feats of some of them would be scarcely
credible now ; and they were so linked together, that an offence
to one was an offence to all. There were several noblemen's
sons with their gold-laced, and elder sons of baronets with their
sdver-laced gowns, who used to accompany us, with their gowns
turned inside out ; yet our freaks arose merely from the fhe and
natural vivacity of uncontrolled youth ; no calm deliberate vices,
no low meannesses, were ever committed ; that class of young
men now termed dandies, we then caded macaronies, and we
made it a standing rule to thrash them whenever we got a fair
opportunity. Such also as had been long tied to their " mother's

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 369
apron-strings" we made no small sport with when we got them
clear inside the college. We caUed them mUk-sops, and if they
declined drinking as much wine as ordered, we always dosed
them, as in duty bound, with tumblers of salt and water, tid they
came to their feeding, as we called it. Thus generally com
menced a young man of fashion's novitiate about fifty years ago.
However, our wddness, instead of increasing as we advanced in
our college courses, certainly diminished, and often left behind
it the elements of much talent and virtue. Indeed, I beheve
there were, to the fuU, as good scholars, and certainly to the full
as high gentlemen, educated in the Dublin University then, as
in this wiser and more cold-blooded era.
I remember, even before that period, seeing old Mr. Sheridan
perform the part of Cato at one of the Dublin theatres. I do not
recoUect which ; but I weU recoUect his dress, which consisted
of bright armour under a fine laced scarlet cloak, and surmounted
by a huge, white, bushy, weU-powdered wig, over which was
stuck his helmet. I wondered much how he could kill himself
without stripping off the armour before he performed that
operation ! I also recodect him particularly playing Alexander
the Great, and throwing the javehn at Clytus, whom happening
to miss, he hit the cup-bearer, then played by one of the hack
performers, a Mr Jemmy EottereL Jemmy very naturally sup
posed that he was hit designedly, and that it was some new Ught
of the great Mr Sheridan to slay the cup-bearer in preference to
his friend Clytus, and that therefore he ought to tumble down
and make a painful end, according to dramatic custom. Imme
diately, therefore, on being struck, he reeled, and feU very
naturaUy, considering it was his first death ; but being deter
mined on this unexpected opportunity to make an impression
upon the audience, he began to roll about, kick, and flap the
stage with his hands; falUng next into strong convulsions,
exhibitmg every symptom of torture, and at length expiring
with a groan so loud and so long that it paralysed even the
people m the gaUeries, whUst the ladies, beUeving he was really
kUled, cried aloud.
VOL. I. 2 B

370 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
Though then very young, I was myself so terrified in the pit
that I never shaU forget it. However, Jemmy Potterel was, in
the end, more applauded than auy Clytus had ever been, and
even the murderer himself could not help laughing heartily at
the incident.
The actresses both of tragedy and genteel comedy formerly
wore large hoops, and whenever they made a speech walked
across the stage and changed sides with the performer who was
to speak next, thus veering backwards and forwards, hke a
shuttlecock, during the entire performance. This custom par
tially prevailed in the continental theatres tUl very lately.
I recollect Mr. Barry, who was really a remarkably hand
some man, and his lady (formerly Mrs. Dancer) ; also Mr. Digges,
who used to play the Ghost in " Hamlet." One night in doubhng
that part with Polonius, Digges forgot, on appearing as the
Ghost, previously to rub off the bright red paint with which his
face had been daubed for the other character. A spirit with a
large red nose and vermiUoned cheeks was extremely novel and
much applauded. There was also a famous actor who used to
play the Cock* that crew to call off the Ghost when Hamlet had
done with him. This performer did his part so wed that every
body used to say he was the best Cock that ever had been heard
at Smock-alley, and six or eight other gentry of the dunghdl
species were generally brought behind the scenes, who, on
hearing him, mistook him for a brother cock, and set up their
pipes all together. And thus, by the infinity of crowing at the
same moment, the hour was the better marked, and the Ghost
glided back to the other world iu the midst of a perfect chorus
of cocks, to the no small admiration of the audience.
Of the distinguishing merits of the old actors, or indeed of
many of the more modern ones, I profess myself but a very
* In Dublin there is great value set ou this character. Such is the national
hilarity, a reaUy good Cock is heard -with as much enthusiasm as would Garrick.
A bad Cock meets no mercy. From one side of the gallery a critic cried out —
"That's a d— — d bad Cock ! " "No he isn't," was answered from the opposite,
" she's a hen !"

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 371
moderate judge. One thing, however, I am sure of, that, man or
boy, I never admired tragedy, however well personated. Lofty
feelings and strong passions may be admirably mimicked therein ;
but the ranting, whining, obviously premeditated starting, dis
ciplined gesticulation, etc. — the committing of suicide in melli
fluous blank verse, and rhyming when in the agonies of death —
stretch away so far from nature, as to destroy all that illusion
whereon the effect of dramatic exhibition in my mind entirely
depends. Unless occasionally to witness some very celebrated
new actor, I have not attended a tragedy these forty years ; nor
have I ever yet seen any tragedian on the British stage who
made so decided an impression on my feeUngs as Mr. Kean, in
some of his characters, has done. When I have seen other
celebrated men enact the same parts, I have remained quite
tranquil, however my judgment may have been satisfied. But
he has made me shudder, and that, in my estimation, is the
grand triumph of the actor's art. I have seldom sat out the last
murder scene of any play except " Tom Thumb," or " Chronon-
hotonthologos," which certainly are no burlesques on some of our
standard tragedies.
Kean's Shylock, and Sir Giles Overreach seemed to me neither
more nor less than actual identification of those portraitures ; so
much so, in fact, that I told him myself, after seeing him per
form the first-mentioned part, that I could have found in my
heart to knock his brains out the moment he had finished his
performance. Two errors, however, that great actor has in a remarkable
degree : some of his pauses are so long that he appears to have
forgotten himself ; and he pats his breast so often that it really
reminds one of .a nurse patting her infant to keep it from squaU
ing : it is a pity he is not aware of these imperfections !
If, however, I have been always inclined to undervalue
tragedy, on the other hand, aU the comic performers of my time
in Ireland I perfectly recollect.* I allude to the days of Eyder,
O'Keefe, Wilks, Wdder, Vandermere, etc. etc. etc.
¦* As racy of the soil as any sentence in the volume. I can't find it in my
heart to touch it but reverently.

372 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
The effect produced by even one actor, or one trivial mcident,
is sometimes surprising. The dramatic trifle caded "Paul Pry"
has had a greater run,* I beUeve, than any piece of the kmd
ever exhibhed in London. I went to see it, and was greatly
amused — not altogether by the piece, but by the ultra oddity of
one performer Put any handsome, or even humandooking
person in Listen's place, and take away his umbrella, and Paul
Pry would scarcely bring another audience. His countenance
certainly presents the drollest set of stationary features I ever
saw, and has the uncommon merit of being exquisitely comic
per se, without the slightest distortion : no artificial grimace, in
deed, could improve his natural. I remember O'Keefe, justly
the deUght of Dublin ; and Eyder, the best Sir John Brute,
Banger, Marplot, etc., in the world : the prologue of " Bucks, have
at ye All !" was repeated by him four hundred and twenty-four
times, t O'Keefe's Tony Lumpkin, Vandermere's Skirmish,
Wilder's Colonel Oldboy, etc. etc., came as near nature as acting
and mimicry could possibly approach. There was also a first
edition of Listen as to drodery, on the Dublin stage, usually
caded " Old Sparkes." He was very tall, and of a very large
size, with hea-vy-hanging jaws, gouty ankles, big paunch, and
sluggish motion ; but his comic face and natural drollery were
irresistible. He was a most excellent actor in everything he
could personate : his grotesq\ie figure, however, rendered these
parts but few. Peachum, in the "Beggar's Opera," Caliban
(with his own additions), in " The Tempest," and ad bulky, droll,
low characters, he did to the greatest perfection. At one time,
when the audiences of Smock-adey wefe beginning to flag, OM
Sparkes told Eyder if he would bring out the after-piece of
" The Padlock," and permit him to manage it, he would ensure
him a succession of good nights. Eyder gave him his way, and
the bdls announced a first appearance in the part of Leonora :
the debutante was reported to be a Spanish lady. The public
curiosity was excited, and youth, beauty, and tremulous modesty
* How often performed is a peg for new editoriship.
+ Which brings his real merit justly into question.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 373
were all anticipated ; the house overflowed ; impatience was un
bounded ; the play ended in confusion, and the overture of " The
Padlock" was received with rapture. Leonora at length ap
peared ; the clapping was like thunder, to give courage to the
debutante, who had a handsome face, and was very beautifuUy
dressed as a Spanish Donna, which it was supposed she really
was. Her gigantic size, it is trae, rather astonished the audience.
However, they wdUngly took for granted that the Spaniards
were an immense people, and it was observed that England must
have had a great escape of the Spanish Armada, if the men were
proportionably gigantic to the ladies. Her voice too was rather
of the hoarsest, but that was accounted for by the sudden change
of cUmate : at last Leonora began her song of " Sweet Eobin" —
Say, Uttle foolish fluttering thing,
Whither, ah ! whither would you -n'iug ?
and at the same moment Leonora's mask fading off, Old Sparkes
stood confessed, with an immense gander which he brought from
under his cloak, and which he had trained to stand on his hand
and screech to his voice, and in chorus with himseK. The whim
took : the roar of laughter was quite inconceivable : he had also
got Mungo played by a real black : and the whole was so extrava
gantly ludicrous, and so entirely to the taste of the Irish
gaUeries at that time, that his "Sweet Eobin" was encored, and
the frequent repetition of the piece replenished poor Eyder's
treasury for the residue of the season.
I think about that time Mr. John Johnstone was a dragoon.
His mother was a very good sort of woman, whom I remember
extremely well Between fifty and sixty years ago she gave me
a Uttle book, entitled " The History of the Seven Champions of
Christendom," which I have to this day. She used to call at my
grandmother's, to sed run muslins, etc., which she carried about
her hips in great waUets, passing them off for a hoop. She was
caUed by the old women, in pleasantry, " Mud and Jacconot ;"
sold great bargains, and was a universal favourite with the ladies.
Young Johnstone was a remarkably genteel weU-looking lad ; he

374 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES
used to bring presents of trout to my grandmother, which he
caught in the great Canal then going on close to Dublin. He
soon went into the army : but having a weakness in his legs, he
procured a speedy discharge, and acquired eminence on the Irish
stage. I never happened to encounter Mr Johnstone in private
society till we met at dinner at Lord Barrymore's, in 1812, where
Colonel Bloomfield, my friend Mr. Eichard Martin, now justly
called Hum,anity Martin, and others, were assembled. I was
glad to meet the distinguished comedian, and mentioned some
circumstances to him which proved the extent of my memory.
He sang that night as sweetly as ever I heard him on the stage,
and that is saying much.
Mr. Johnstone was a truly excellent performer of the more
refined species of Irish characters ;* but Nature had not given
him enough of that original shoulder-twist, and what they cad
the " potheen-twang," which so strongly characterise the genuine
national vis comica of the lower orders of Irish. In this respect,
perhaps, Owenson was superior to him, of whom the reader wdl
find a more detailed account in a future page.
No modern comedy, in my mind, equals those of the old
writers. The former are altogether devoid of that high-bred,
witty playfulness of dialogue so conspicuous in the works of the
latter. Gaudy spectacle, common-place claptraps, and bad puns,
together with forced or mongrel sentiment, have been substituted
to " make the unskilful laugh," and to the manifest sorrow of
the "judicious." Perhaps so much the better: — as, although
there are now most exceUent scene-painters and fire-workers,
the London stage appears to be almost destitute of competent
performers in the parts of genuine comedy, and the present
London audiences seem to prefer gunpowder, resin, brimstone,
musketry, burning castles, and dancing ponies, to any human or
Christian entertainments, evidently despising all those high-
finished comic characters, which satisfy the understanding and
owe nothing to the scenery.
¦* Many exquisite specimens of which have been painted by the patriotic Carleton.

OF HIS OWN TIMES. 375
There is another species of theatrical representation extant
in Prance — namely, scriptural pieces ; half burlesque, half melo-
drame. These are undoubtedly among the drollest things ima
ginable ; mixing up in one unconnected mass, tragedy, comedy,
and farce, painting, music, scenery, dress and undress, decency
and indecency ! *
I have seen many admirable comedians on the Continent.
Nothing can possibly exceed Mademoiselle Mars, for instance,
in many characters ; but the French are all actors and actresses
from their cradles ; and a great number of performers, even at
the minor theatres, seem to me to forget that they are playing, and
at thnes nearly make the audience forget it too ! Their spectacle
is admhably good ; their dancing exceUent, and their dresses
beautiful. Their orchestras are well filled, in every sense of the
word, and the level of musical composition not so low as some of
Mr. Bishop's effusions. Their singing, however, is execrable ;
their tragedy rant ; but their prose comedy very nature itself !
In short, the French beyond doubt exceed ad other people in
the world with regard to theatrical matters ; and as every man,
woman, and child in Paris is equaUy attached to spectacle, every
house is fuU, every company encouraged, aU tastes find some
gratification. An Englishman can scarcely quit a Parisian
theatre, without having seen himself or some of his family capi
tally represented : the Anglais supply certainly an inexhaustible
source of French mimicry ; and as we cannot help it, do what
we wid, our countrymen now begin to practise the good sense of
¦* " Samson puUing down the haU of the PhUistines " is the very finest piece of
spectacle that can be conceived ! — ' ' Susannah and the Elders " is rather too naked
a concern for the English ladies to look at, unless through their fans : transparent
ones have lately been invented, to save the expense of blushes at the theatres, etc.
But the most whimsical of their scriptural dramas is the exhibition of Noah as a
shipbuUder, preparatory to the deluge. He is assisted by large gangs of angels
working as his journeymen, whose great solicitude is to keep their wings clear out
of the way of their hatchets, etc. At length the whole of them strike and turn out
for wages, till the arrival of a body of gens d'armes immediately brings them to
order, by whom they are threatened to be sent back to heaven if they do not
behave themselves ! — {Author's note.)

376 BAEEINGTON'S PEESONAL SKETCHES OF HIS OWN TIMES.
laughing at it themselves ! John Bull thinks that roast beef is
the finest dish in the whole world, and that the finest feUow in
Europe is the man that eats it : on both points the Frenchman
begs leave, tout d, fait, to differ with John ; and nothing can be
sidier than to oppose opinions with a positive people, in theh
own country, and who never yet, right or wrong, gave up an
argument.

END OF VOL. I.

Printed hy R. Clark, Edinburgh.

3 9002 08954 1222

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