YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY Gift of
Mrs. Francis Wayland

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RICHARD LALOR SHLIL M P

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SKETCHES

THE IRISH BAR

BY THE RT. HON.

RICHARD LALOR SHEIL, M.P.
WITH MEMOIR AND NOTES
BY
R. SHELTON lAIACKENZIE, D.C.L.
in two volumes.
Vol. L

REDFIELD
no AND 112 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.
1854.

Entered, according to Act of CongieBi?, in the year 1854,
By j. S. REDFiEI.D,
In the Olerk'8 Office of the Distrir.t Court of the United States, in and for the Southern
District of Neiv Yoik.

STERKOTYPED BY C. C. SAVAGE,
13 Cliaiiiberti Struet, N. Y.

CONTENTS OF VOL. L

Memoik of Mr. Sheil  pagf. 5
Author's iNTRODncTioN  17
-AN IRISH CIRCUIT.
Going Circuit. — The South of Ireland. — Rules of Legal Travelling. —
An Approver^ Lord Avonmore. — An Irish Assize Town. — Larry Ci*o-
nan's Trial. — O'Connell's Success with Jui4es. — Trial of John Scanlan
for Murder. — Was he executed ?  19
HALL OF THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN.
O'Connell, Bushe, Lord Phinket, and H. D. Grady. — Cun-an. — Lord Clare.
. — Serving Writs in Connaught  58
DANIEL O'CONNELL.
In his Study, in the Four Courts, at a Popular Meeting, at a Public Din
ner. — His Personal Appearance. — Merits as a Nisi-Prius, and Crown
Lawyer. — Influence with Juries. — As Catholic Leader. — Duel with
D'Esterre. — On Circuit. — In Parliament  73
LORD PLUNKET.
His Origin. — Conviction of the Sheareses. — Trial of Robert Emmett. — Hii
Intellectual Supremacy. — Style of his Oratory. — Personal Appearance.
— In Parliament. — His Catholic Politics. — Grattan. — Raised to the
Bench. — Appointed Lord-Chancellor. — His Enforced Resignation. ... 98
CHIEF-JUSTICE BUSHE.
Descent. — The Historical Society. — An Anti-Unionist. — Solicitor-General.
— Catholic Board. — Aspect, Voice, and Gesture, as an. Orator. — His
Conversation, Wit, and Eloquence. — Is made Chief- Justice  121
ATTORNEY-GENERAL SAURIN.
Huguenot Descent. — Lord Clonmel. — Business Habits. — Opposes the
Union. — As Attorney-General. — Anti-Catholic PoUtics. — Loss of OfBce.
— Deportment and Aspect. — Skill as an Advocate. — Distaste for Letters. 150
CHIEF-BARON JOY.
His Tory Politics. — Sympathy with Saurin. — Bar Advancement. — Is made
Solicitor-General. — His Legal and Scientific Attainments. — Skill at
Cross-Bxamination. — Character as a Judge  170

4 CONTEXTS.
CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.
An Unfortunate Lawyer. — Tragic Scene. — Lord Manners. — The French
Bar. — Tiippier, the Parisian avocat. — The Lawyer's Progress. — " Mac-
Dougall of the Roar." — Pomposo, a Sketch from Life. — Monks of the
Screw. — Jerry Keller. — Norcott, the Renegade, and his Fate  186
CHIEF-JUSTICE LEFROY.
A Saintly Lawyer. — O'ConneU on Catholic Education. — Lefroy in the
Chancery Court. — Captain Rock in Limerick. — Raised to the Bench. . 216
ME. SERGEANT GOOLD.
An Amirable Crichton. — Sows his Wild Oats. — Edmund Burke. — Goold's
Nisi-Prius Practice. — His Vanity. — Opposes the Union. — Sir Jonah
Barrington. — Goold's Election Evidence. — Is made Master in Chancery. 232
MB. NORTH, JUDGE OF THE ADMIRALTY COURT.
Brilliant University Career. — At the Bar. — Irish Eloquence. — Compara
tive Failure in Parliament. — Neutrality in Politics. — The Bottle Riot. . 252
MR. WALLACE.
Professional Progress. — High Repute in Jury Cases. — License of the Bar.
— Catholic Meeting. — Grattan's last Public Appearance  269
WEXFORD ASSIZES.
The Leinster Circuit. — Archbishop Magee. — Bishop Blrington's Anti-
Necromantic Movement. — Irish Peasant-Girls. — A Pic-Nic Excursion.
— Massacre on the Old Bridge of Wexford. — O'ConneU's Triumphal
Entiy. — Chief-Justice Bushe and Judge Johnson. — Trial of Father Car
roll : Monomania  287
CHIEF-JUSTICE DOHERTY.
As an Advocate, and Crown-Lawyer.— Judges Perrin and Crampton.—
Lord-ChanceUor Manners' Inefficiency.— George Canning's Career.—
Doherty versus O'ConneU.— Raised to the Bench.— Declines a Peerage. 311
THE DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
"The Liberty" of Dublin.— An American Mai-chioness.- Lord WeUesley
as Bridegroon and Viceroy.— Sir Harcom-t Lees.— " Ii-eland's only
Duke."— Lord Edward Fitzgerald.- Lady Morgan.— The Younger
Grattan.— Cm-ran.- " The Tenth."— An Irish Hebe  328
CATHOLIC LEADERS AND ASSOCIATIONS.
Confederates of 1642.— Enactment of the Penal Laws.- CathoUc Oom
mittees.- Wolfe Tone and John Keogh.- O'Connell's first Appearance
— Denis Scully, and ^neas M'Donnell.— Lords French, Fingal and Kil'
leen.— Doctor Drumgoole.— George IV. in Ireland.— Catholic Associ
ation founded.— Bishop Doyle and the Sorbonne Doctors.— Archbi h"
ops Troy, Curtis, and Murray. — Bishop Kellv '^
^  359

MEMOIR OF MR. SHEIL.

Eichard Lalor Sheil, author of " Sketches of the Irish
Bar," was born at Waterford, in Ireland, in the year 1793.
He died at Florence, where he was British Minister, on April
25, 1851, aged fifty-eight.
His father, who had been a merchant at Cadiz, retired on a
competence, which enabled him to purchase an estate in the
county of Waterford. Eeturning to mercantile pursuits, he
was unfortunate, and died, leaving his sons little more than
the means of perfecting a liberal education. One of these sous
was Colonel Justin Sheil, yet surviving, who, for several years,
was British Ambassador to Persia.
Like O'Connell, who was nearly twenty years his senior,
Sheil was originally intended for the Catholic Church. At an
early age, he was sent to a Jesuit school at Kensington, near
London. He was subsequently removed to Stonyhurst, in
Lancashire, whence he went to Trinity College, Dublin, with
a competent knowledge of the classics, some acquaintance with
Italian and Spanish, and the power of speaking and writing
French, as if it were his mother-tongue. His taste for litera
ture and his facility for rhetorical composition were early
developed. In the University he won several classical prizes,
and was acknowledged to surpass most of his fellow-students
in general acquirements. He was a constant and favorite
speaker in the celebiitted Historical Society (the cradle of
Irish eloquence at the time), where the brilliancy and force of
his rhetoric always commanded admiration and applause.

6 Mini OIK OF Hit. snsiL.
Then, as ever after, his oratory con.sisted of more than flowing
sentences, for he generalized and applietl f.ict.s, with rare and
remarkable felicity. He graduated before he was twenty
years old, and his college comates prophesied that his career
would be distinguished.
At this time, aud for a few years preceding, he floated on
the surface of Dublin society. Small in stature, slight in
figure, and eminently vivacious in manner and deportment, he
came into society, almost a boy — as Moore had done, some
fifteen years earlier — and, like Moore, he gave rise to sanguine
anticipations. It was a doubt whether he would subside into
a poet or an orator, but every one saw and said that he was
marked for distinction. There were great men in Dublin at
that time : Plunket, with uneq^ualled powers of eloquence and
reasoning ; Bushe, silvery-tongued as Belial, but full of capti
vating amiability ; Goold, imbued with a charming airumr
propre, which made you like, while you smiled at the man;
O'Connell, in the full strength of youth and power, stoi-ming
his way to the head of his profession ; North, the college rival
and friend of Sheil, whose maturity did not fulfil the promise
of his youth ; Wolfe, afterward Chief-Baron, with the kindest
and truest heart throbbing in a gnarly case; and others, more
or less distinguished, then or since. At that time, too, Grattan
and Curran were the ornaments of intellectual life in Dublin;
full of reminiscences of the Volunteers in 1782, and the Eeign
of Terror in 1798.
It was natural that, amid such men, Sheil, young, ardent,
and highly-gifted, should set up a high standard of excellence,
to which to direct his own ambitious strivings ; and that " Ex
celsior" should be to him, as to all who worthily aspire, at
once a motto and a monitor.
He was barely twenty when, in 1813, he made his first
plunge into public and political life. There were divisions
among the Irish Catholics then. One section, aristocratic and
moderate — who, rather than the clanking should offend the.
" ears polite" of their rulers, would xJHingly have wrapped
their fetters in velvet— desired to give the British government
a Veto on the appointment of the Catholic Bishops, provided

MEMOIE OF ME. SHEIL. 7
that Emancipation were conceded. The other, democratic
and bold, denounced all compromise. Sheil attached himself
to the first, while O'Connell headed the latter. Both Tribunes
of the People were able and eloquent — but the man, O'Con
nell, prevailed over the boy, Sheil, and the latter quitted the
field, for a time.
In 1814, at the age of twenty-one, Sheil was called to the
Irish Bar. His youth was against him, of course. His predi
lections were in favor of literature, and, for several years, hig
contributions to the London magazines afforded him the
chief means of subsistence. He wrote for the stage, also —
excited by the brilliant genius of Miss O'Neil, the Irish trage
dienne — and his play of " Evadne" still retains a place in
the acted drama, by reason of its declamatory poetry and
effective situations.
On the Leinster Circuit, Mr. Sheil had to contend (strange as
it may appear), with his previous reputation as an orator — for
a good point at law is considered better, on account of its
weight with the judge, than a brilliant speech, intended to
win the verdict of a jury. At the bar, it must be confessed,
Mr. Sheil never attained the highest distinction. His legal
knowledge was limited, as respects depth and extent. In
criminal cases, his eloquence often prevailed with juries, and,
as he gradually reached seniority, he also obtained leading
briefs at Nisi-Prius. In the Four-Courts, where the metropol
itan practice takes place, Sheil eventually came to be consid
ered a passable general lawyer.
In 1823 (as related by himself in the article on Catholic
Leaders), he joined with O'Connell, in establishing the Catho
lic Association, which literally became a sort of imperium in
imperio in Ireland. In this body, both leaders spoke earnestly
and well. O'Connell's role was to insist on " Justice for Ire
land," Shell's to cast contempt and ridicule upon what was
called Protestant Ascendency.
In 1825, both leaders (" Magna comitante caterva"), went to
London, as part of a .deputation, at the time when, the sup
pression of the Catholic Association becoming a government
preliminary. Emancipation — clogged with "the wings," viz,

8 MEMOIK OF MK. SHEIL.
disfranchisement of the forty shilling freeholders, and state-
payment of the Catholic clergy — would have been granted,
but for a speech from the Duke of York, heir-presumptive to
the throne, in which he made a solemn vow to Heaven, that he
would never accede to the concession.
At the general election of 1826, when Lord George Beres
ford's almost hereditary claims to represent Waterford county
in Parliament, were unexpectedly contested by Mr. Villiers
Stuart,-a retainer to act as counsel for Lord George, was ac
cepted by Mr. Sheil. There was some dissatisfaction, at the
time, among the Catholics, at one of their ablest and most
trusted leaders acting for a candidate of opposite politics ; but
O'Connell frankly and publicly did him the justice of saying,
that, as a lawyer, Mr. Sheil was, in a manner, bound to act for
whoever employed him. As there never was a question of the
ability with which he performed his duty on that occasion, so
was there never a belief that, in such performance, Mr. Sheil
compromised his own principles, or those of his party. The
election — thanks to the very forty-shilling freeholders, to
whose disfranchisement (as part of the price of Emancipation),
O'Connell would have consented, in 1825 — ended in the
defeat of Mr. Shell's noble and anti-Catholic client.
The death of the Duke of York, the sworn opponent of the
Catholics, took place in 1827, and Mr. Sheil took occasion,
duripg and after his illness, to make some speeches, by no
means in good taste, upon the Eoyal sufferer. About that
time, too, he was prosecuted for too much freedom of speech
on Wolfe Tone's autobiography, on the Catholic Association
(which had risen, more powerful than ever, on the ruins of
that which was suppressed in 1825), but never tried.
In the following year (1828), the Catholic Association, in
possession of ample funds from •• the Eent" which O'Connell
had established, determined to resist the re-election of Mr.
Vesey Fitzgerald, member for the County of Clare, because!
though he had always voted for Emancipation, he had taken
office in the Duke of Wellington's Anti-Catholic Government.
O'Connell was the opposing candidate, and, after a fierce and
exciting contest, he was elected by an overpowering majority.

MEMOIE OF MR. SHEIL. 9
Mr. Sheil warmly and efficiently assisted in this contest (of
which his own narrative appears in the second volume) ; and
his speech at its close, eminently practical as well as eloquent,
is entitled to rank among his happiest efforts.
In the October following, being in London, it was suggested
that Mr. Sheil should speak in advocacy of the Catholic claims,
at £1 great Anti-Catholic meeting of the freeholders of Kent.
He was unable, from the opposition presented to himself and
other liberals, to utter more than a single sentence. Having
taken the precaution, however, to give a copy of his (intended)
harangue to the editor of " the Sun" newspaper, it was pub
lished, the same day, as part of the proceedings, and made a
gi-eat impression on the public mind. Mr. Shell's own account
of the Penenden Heath Meeting, as it was called from the
locality where it was held, appears in the second volume.
The Eoman Catholic Eelief Bill, passed in 1829, was the
natural consequence of the Clare Election. It opened a new
and enlarged sphere of action to Mr. Sheil, who was now eli
gible to sit in Parliament. At this time he was only thirty- six
years old, with a high reputation, great powers, and immense
popularity. Through the influence of Lord Anglesey, he
was elected for the borough of Milbourne Port, but he had
previously been an unsuccessful candidate for the County of
Louth in 1830, for which he was elected in 1831. He was
returned for the County of Tipperary in 1832 and in 1835,
without a contest, and, against a strong opposition, in 1837.
Accepting office in 1838, he was again unsuccessfully opposed.
Prom 1841 to 1850, he represented the small Irish borough of
Dungarvan. In Parliament, the position occupied by Mr. Sheil was im
mediate, unquestioned, and exalted. In fact, he took rank,
at once, as one of the best orators in the House of Commons.
He was far from being a ready debater — though some of his
extempore replies were quick, reasoning, and acute — but his
prepared speeches enchained attention, and won the applause
even of his antagonists. He had the disadvantage of a small
person, negligent attire, shrill voice, and vehement gesticula
tion ; but these were all forgotten when he spoke, and his sin-
1*

10 MEMOIE OF ME. SHEIL.
gularly peculiar manner gave the appearance of impulse even
to his most elaborated compositions. Words can not briefly
describe the character of Shell's rhetoric : it was aptly said, in
the style of his own metaphors, "he thinks lightning."
Mr. Sheil was personally much liked by all parties in the
Legislature. In 1834, when he was charged with having
secretly and treacherously urged the Minister to carry an
Irish Coercion Bill, which the liberal members were publicly
opposing, it is doubtful whether his own party, or his oppo
nents, were most rejoiced at his full acquittal.
After his entrance into parliamentary life, his bar-practice
in Ireland was almost wholly neglected. In 1844, however,
although he had himself avoided participation in the Eepeal
excitement, he reappeared in the Four Courts, at Dublin, at the
State Trials, as advocate for John O'Connell, and delivered
a most eloquent speech in his defence, the delivery of which
occupied six hours. This closed his professional career.
From his entrance into Parliament, he rather sided with t^e
Whig than the Irish party. In time he had his reward —
having been successively a Commissioner of Greenwich Hospi
tal, Vice-President of the Board of Trade, Judge-Advocate
General, aud Master of the Mint, besides being a Queen's
Counsel and Privy Counsellor. Of late years, his voice was
seldom heard in the House. He seemed to think that his
work was ended with Emancipation and the abolition of
Tithes. He had declined into a mere placeman — realizing
Moore's sarcasm : —
" As bees on flowers aUghting, cease their hum.
So, settling upon places, Whigs grow dumb."
Curiously enough, Mr. Shell's appointment under the Whigs,
in 1846, to the office of Master of the Mint, broke up the Irish
party which O'Connell long had led. On acceptance of office,
it was requisite that he should go back to his constituents
of Dungarvan, as a candidate for re-election. A strong and
rising section of the Eepealers urged that, as in 1828 with
Vesey Fitzgerald, Mr. Sheil should be opposed, as member of
a Government who would not grant "justice to Ireland," save
ou the strongest pressure from without. O'Connell would

MilMuIE OF ME. SHEIL. 11
not consent thus to oppose Sheil, having better hopes of the
Whigs than his more youthful and eager associates. O'Con
nell allowed Sheil to be re-elected, without opposition, on the
ground of his own reluctance to embarrass the Government.
Certain resolutions, affirming this temporizing policy, were
proposed by John O'Connell, and carried by a large majority
in the Eepeal Association. But the minority — more power
ful in virtues, boldness, and talent, than in numbers — seceded
from the Association, and formed what was called the " Young
Ireland" party, resolved to achieve the independence of their
country, even if it were to be battled for with arms as well
as words. Most distinguished in this party were O'Brien,
Mitchel, Meagher, and Martin, who soon after founded " The
Irish Confederation," one principle of which was opposition
to office-seeking on the part of persons professing nationality.
Soon after, O'Connell died. The Eevolutions of 1848 came
next, and that which was attempted in Ireland, with an unsur
passed purity and intensity of purpose, failed like all the rest.
In November, 1850, when Lord John Eussell was attacking
the Catholic religion, as consisting of " the mummeries of
superstition," and was preparing to bring in his Ecclesiastical
Titles Bill, the Embassy to Florence was offered to, and ac
cepted by, Mr. Sheil, whose health was declining, and whose
religious feelings must have been opposed, had he remained in
England, to Lord John Russell's anti-Catholic measures.
To Florence, therefore, he proceeded, full of hope that the
fine climate would renew his failing health, and looking on his
appointment as a dignified close to his public career. The
suicide of Mr. Power, son of Mr. Shell's second wife (his first
had been Miss O'Hallaran, niece of Sir William M'Mahon,
Master of the Eolls in Ireland), gave him such a shock as to
induce an attack of gout in the stomach, of which he died.
His remains were conveyed to Ireland in a British sliip-of-
war, and were interred at Long Orchard, four miles from
Templemore, in the County of Tipperary.
Fain would I here have done more than thus briefly and rap
idly record the leading events in Mr. Shell's public life, but my
space is necessarily limited. Perhaps I may have the oppor-

13 MEMOIE OF ME. SHEIL.
tunity of doing him fuller justice in a future volume, iu which
I may attempt to give pen-portraits of politicians and authors,
artists and polemics, lawyers and orators, whom I have known
in Europe.
The publication of " Sketches of the Irish Bar" was com
menced iu 1822, in The New MmUhly Magazine, a London
periodical then conducted by Thomas Campbell, the poet.
The idea originated with William Henry Curran, son and
biographer of the great Irish orator and patriot, but the
execution was Shell's.
The first sketch, which appeared in August, 1822 (and per
haps one of the ablest, being analytic as well as rhetorical),
was that of Plunket. The far-famed paper on O'Connell,
which is the best known of the series (having been repeatedly
reprinted in Europe and America, and translated into French,
German, Italian, and Spanish), did not appear until July, 1823.
It immediately attracted attention and applause; and, from
that time, the " Sketches of the Irish Bar" were eagerly
looked for in The New Monthly, the reputation of which they
mainly contributed to sustain. The last sketch was that of
Leslie Foster, published in February and March, 1829.
A schoolboy, when the " Sketches" were commenced, (and,
albeit a Protestant, entertaining a strong general impression
that my countrymen, the Irish Catholics, were very harshly
treated,) I eagerly perused such of them as were copied into
an excellent journal, now no more, called The Corli Mercantile
Chronicle. As I grew older, I could better appreciate their
keen satire, their sharp antithesis, their close observation, their
personal gossip, their liberal spirit, and their generous senti
ment. At last, it was my own hap to become a member of the
press, at an age when (I now feel) I should rather have been
improving my own mind, thap presumptuously attempting to
instruct others.
In 1826, an enterprising bookseller in Cork resolved to
make the experiment of trying whether Ireland, which eagerly
received her literature from London and Edinburgh, could"
support a periodical of her own. He engaged the services of

MEMOIE OF ME, SHEIL. 13
some distinguished literati in the South of Ireland, and had no
lack of younger contributors willing to write for " the honor
and glory" of being in print. Among these were several who
have since been distinguished. There was Callanan, author
of the exquisite lyric called " Gougane Barra," whose rhythm
flows along like the melodious rippling of a gently-murmuring
rivulet ; there was O'Meagher, author of a poem called " Zed-
echias," and now the efficient and able Paris correspondent of
the London Times; there was O'Leary, who wrote the chansmi
a haire " W hiskey, drink divine !" so redolent of Innishowen ;
there was John Windele, now a zealous and rational antiqua
rian ; there was the late John Augustus Shea, already distin
guished among his fellows for poetic genius, flashing wit,
classic eloquence, and social companionship; and, lingering
far behind, as became youngest born and humblest, the writer
ofthis notice completed the array of volunteer contributors.
It struck all of ufi that the periodical would at once achieve
success, if Mr. Sheil could be induced to become a contributor.
Mr. Bolster, the publisher, obtained an interview, and asked
whether Mr. Sheil could write for him, and was gratified with
an affirmative reply. As the conversation went on, Mr. Sheil
mentioned several subjects on which he was willing to write.
The publisher was charmed with the interest which the future
contributor appeared to take in the periodical. At last came
the business question : " How much per sheet do you mean to
pay V The somewhat hesitating reply was, that no payment
was contemplated at first, but that, whenever any profits ac-
craed, he might depend on being remunerated. Mr. Sheil
shook his head and said, " I am afraid your terms will not suit
me. However, as you have done me the compliment of wish
ing me to write for you, I must give you something. Instead
of calling your periodical ' Bolster's Magazine of Ireland,'
accept a more appropriate name for it, from me. Considering
the place whence it is to issue, and the terms which you offer,
let me suggest that you call it ' The Cork-screw.' "
My own personal acquaintance with Mr. Sheil was made in
October, 1828, in -London, on the evening of the Penenden
Heath Meeting. His conversation — full of wit and humor,

11: MEMOIE OF ilE. SHEIL.
with graver alternations of serious talk — was the charm of
that gaj' and delightful night.
In 1844, I applied to Mr. Sheil for permission to republish
some of the " Sketches," and his prompt reply (of which a fac
simile is given in the second volume) gave the promise of as
sisting me in making the selection. I was then at Oxford, and
was unable to call upon him in London until the next year. He
had forgotten m-y name, in the lapse between 1828 and 1845,
but instantly recollected my person and my voice. Entering
heartily into my views, he gave me whatever permission was
iu his power, as writer, to republish the " Sketches," wholly or
in part, but doubted whether the copyright did not belong to
Mr. Colburn, the proprietor of The Neic Monthly Magazine,
for which he had written them. He gave me a list of the
whole series, and further drew my attention to two other
" Sketches," which had appeared in the first volume of Camp
bell's Metropolitan Magazine in 1831. These (on Lord-Chan
cellor Brougham and the State of Parties in Dublin), conclude
the second volume, and, in their personal details, are not in
ferior in interest to any which precede them.
Encouraged by the frank kindness with which I was met, I
suggested the republication of all the " Sketches," and stated
my idea of the manner in which they should be edited. Mr.
Sheil stated his inability — from pressure of other occupations,
and a distaste of the literarj' labor it would impose — to anno
tate, or even to revise the articles; but strongly nr^ed me to
act as Editor — a duty for which, he was pleased to say, I
was qualified by my knowledge of politics aud parties in Ire
land, and my acquaintance with most of the persons of whom
he had made mention. Thus encouraged, I accepted ^he
charge, and had repeated conferences on the subject, during the
following twelve months ; but, in the summer of 1846, Mr. Sheil
resumed office as Master of the Mint, which greatly engrossed
his time, and my own was so much occupied, to the exclusion
of literary labor, that I was unable then to proceed with my
task, which I did not resume until recently.
A generation has passed away since the first of these
" Sketches" appeared, and, had I edited this work in England,

MEMOIE OF ME. SHEIL. 15
I must have freely annotated it, to make its allusions to per
sons and things perfectly intelligible to the present race of
readers. Doing it in America, I felt that this principle must
be carried out yet more fully. Therefore, in the copious notes
and illustrations which I have written (so copious, indeed, that
my own portion in these volumes is more than two fifths of the
whole),* I have endeavored to make the reader as well ac
quainted with every part of the subject, as I am myself. That
I have been lab^jrious I know, that I am accurate in state
ments and dates I believe. My own political opinions being
liberal, their tone has breathed itself, no doubt, into what I
have written, but I trust that its general impartiality will be
acknowledged. Wherever my own personal knowledge could
avail, I have freely used it. All of the subjects of the
" Sketches'' I have seen and heard in public; with many of
them I was more or less acquainted.
The " Sketches" are of a three-fold character. Some are
individual, as relating to public men. Some show the practice
of the Irish Bar, as exhibited in reports of interesting criminal
cases. The third class consists of narratives of public events
connected with the cause of civil and religious liberty iu
Ireland. Thus, there are graphic descriptions of O'Connell,
Plunket, and their contemporaries. There are the thrilling
narratives of Scanlan's trial at Limerick (on which Gerald
Griffin founded his tragic story of " The Collegians") and the
trials of Father Carrol, at Wexford ; of the murderers of Dan
iel Mara, at Clonmel ; and of Gorman, for " the burning of the
Sheas." There are also Mr. Shell's own recollections of the
formation of the Catholic Association in 1823 ; of the visit of
the Catholic Deputation to London in 1825 ; of the great Clare
Election, and the Penenden Heath Meeting in 1828 ; and of
Lord Brougham's reception, as Chancellor, in 1831. Nor,
amid much that is historical, grave, and sometimes, even tragic,
are lighter scenes deficient, such as the account of the Tabinet
Ball, the Confessions of a Junior Barrister, the description of
* Mr. Shells own notes to these " Sketches" are few — about six or eight in
the two volumes. AU the rest of the annotations are my own and initialed
thus : — M.

16 MEMOIE OF ME. SHEIL.
an imaginary Testimonial to Lord Manners, and the Sketch
of the judicial mime. Lord Norbury. In reality, this w-ork,
with its strong contrasts of light and shade, is a sort of personal
history of Irish politics and politicians (for the Bar did not
affect neutrality), during the half century following the parch
ment Union between Ireland and Great Britain.
The portrait of Mr. Sheil in this volume, is a fac-simile
of an original sketch in my possession, made in London, in
1825, by Mr. S. Catterson Smith, then a young Irish artist of
considerable promise, and now of such leading eminence that
he was selected to paint the portrait of Lord Clarendon, late
Viceroy of Ireland, to be placed in Dublin Castle. The like
ness of Mr. Sheil, it must be noted, represents him as he was
at the age of thirty-two.
Here, dismissing these volumes from my hand, I conclude
my labors. Here are rescued from the perishable periodicals in
which they mouldered, the admirable productions of a man,
who, while our language lasts, will be spoken of as one of the
most brilliant orators that Ireland, affluent in eloquence, ever
had cause to be proud of — productions emanating from the
freshness of his -purpurea jwventus, before his patriotism had
been rendered cold or doubtful, by his acceptance of place.
They stand — "A deathless part of him who. died too soon.''
My own part, humble as it is, claims to be honest in pur
pose, and laboriously faithful in execution. I believe that the
" Sketches of the Irish Bar," now first collected, will be found
to possess abiding interest, because they emanate from a mas
ter-mind, and are written with fidelity and spirit. I have
arranged them in an order different from that in which they
originally appeared (on Mr. Shell's own suggestion, that there
should be contrast in the grouping), but I present them, with
out mutilation or change, as they were first given to the public.
R. Shelton Mackenzie.
New York, January 12, 1854.

AUTHOR'S INTEODTJOTION.

WfiEN I first visited Dublin (it was about three years ago),
I was a frequent attendant at the Courts of Justice, or, as they
are more familiarly styled, the " Four Courts." The printed
speeches of Curran had just fallen into my hands ; and, not
withstanding their numerous and manifest defects, whether of
the reporter or the speaker, the general effect of the perusal
was to impress me with a very favorable opinion of Irish foren
sic eloquence. Although, as an Englishman,* I might not
participate in the political fervor which forms one of their chief
recommendations to his admirers in Ireland, or, in my severer
judgment, approve of a general style that differed so essen
tially from the models of British taste, still there was a fresh
ness and vitality pervading the whole — glowing imagery —
abounding phraseology — trains of argument and illustration
at once vigorous and original — and incessant home pushes at
the human heart, of which the attractions were entirely inde
pendent of local or party associations.
Under these impressions, and the opportunity being now
afforded me, I made it a kind of literary object to ascertain
how far the peculiarities that struck me belonged to the man
* Mr. Sheil commenced these Sketches in 1822, with the idea of their being
taken as the production of an impartial Englishman, and he continued to wear
tho mask long after common report had assigned his writings to their true pa^
temity. In his account of the Clare Election, which took place in 1828, and
rendered Catholic Emancipation inevitable, Mr. Sheil frankly admitted the au
thorship. — M.

18 AtTTHOE's raTEODXrCTION.
or the country. With this view, I resorted almost daily for
the space of two terms to the Four Courts, where I studied
with some industry the manner and intellectual character of
some of the most eminent pleaders. The result was, a little
collection of forensic sketches, accurate enough, it struck me,
as far as they went ; but on the whole so incomplete, that I
had no design of offering them to the public : they remained
almost forgotten in my commonplace-book, until his Majesty's
late visit to Ireland,* when I was persuaded by a friend to
follow in the royal train. All that I saw and thought upon
that occasion is beside my present purpQ|e.
I return to my sketches : My friend and I remained in Ire
land till the month of December. We made an excursion to
the lakes of Killarney and to the Giants' Causeway; and,
during our tour, the Circuits being fortunately out, I was thus
furnished with the means of correcting or confirming many ob
servations upon some of the most prominent subjects of my
sketches. The same opportunity was afforded me on my re
turn to Dublin, where the Courts were sitting during the last
month of our stay. I now, for the first time, and principally
from deference to my companion's opinion that the subject
would be interesting, resolved at a leisure hour to arrange my
scattered memoranda into a form that might meet the public
eye. I may not be enabled to execute my plan to its entire
extent. In the event of my fulfilling my purpose, I must
premise, that I do not profess to include every member of the
Irish bar who has risen to eminence in his profession : I pro
pose to speak only of those whom I heard sufficiently often to
catch the peculiarities of their mind and manner ; and, with
regard to these, I beg to disclaim all pretensions to adjust their
comparative merits and professional importance. Were it pos
sible, I should introduce their names in the form of a Eound
Eobin, where none could be said to enjoy precedence.
» George IV. visited Ireland in August, 1821, and had no cause to complain
of his reception. The Irish appeared drunk with joy, and rattled their chains
as if they were proud of them. — M.

SKETCHES OF THE IRISH BAR.

AN IRISH CIECUIT.
If any one, tired with the monotonous regularity of a more
civilized existence, should desire to plunge at once into another
scene, and take refuge from ennui in that stirring complexity
of feeling produced by a series of images, solemn, pathetic, lu
dicrous, and loathsome, each crossing each in rapid and endless
succession, I would recommend to him to attend one of the
periodical progresses of Irish law through the interior of that
anomalous country ; and more particularly through one of the
southern districts, which, out of deference to Captain Eock, I
have selected as the scene of the present sketch.
Going circuit in Ireland, though of great importance to the
health of the bar — they would die of stagnation else — is at
the outset but a dreary piece of business.* When the time ap-
* In Great Britain and Ireland, the Judges go ** on circuit" twice a year, for
the trial of criminal cases and of civil or Nisi Prius suits. Each circuit con
sists of a certain number of counties, and most of the barristers derive a consid
erable portion of their incomes from their labors, as advocates, on the circuit.
A barrister may change his circuit once — but even this is rare — and the ordi
nary practice is, having once commenced in one district (usuaUy including the
locality of his own relatives and friends), always to continue in it. When a.
lawyer is called out of his own to plead for plaintiff or defendant in another.
circuit, it is said that he is " engaged specially," and receives a large fee or
hottora-rium accordingly. The largest " special" fee ever received in England
was by one of the present ex-Chancellors, Lord Truro (then Mr. Thomas Wilde),

20 AN lEISH CIECUIT.
proaches, one can generally perceive, by the faces in the Hall,
that it is felt as such. There are, of course, exceptions. A
prosperous man, certain of a rich harvest of record-briefs, a
crown prosecutor with the prospect of a " bumper" in every
jail, a sanguine junior confiding in the promise of the defence
in a heavy murder case or two to bring him forward — the
spirits of these may be as brisk, and their eyes shine as bright,
as ever ; but, for the most part, the presentiment of useless ex
pense, and discomfort in a thousand forms, predominates. The
travelling arrangements are made with a heavy heart; the
accustomed number of law-books, each carefully lapped up in
its circuit-binding, and never perhaps to be opened till its re
turn, are transferred with a sigh from the shelf to the portman
teau ; and the morning of departure from the metropolis, no
matter how gay the sunshine or refreshing the breeze, is to
many — to more than will dare confess it — the most melancholy
of the year.
It certainly requires some stoutness of sensibility to face the
south of Ireland. I have often heard -the metropolis described
as an effort of Irish ostentation. The truth of this bursts upon
you at every step as you advance into the interior. With the
exception of the roads, the best perhaps in Europe, the gen
eral aspect of the country proclaims that civilization and hap
piness are sadly in arrear. Here and there the eye may find
a momentary relief in the commodious mansion and tasteful
demesne of some opulent proprietor ; but the rest of the scene
is dismal and dispiriting. To those accustomed to English
objects, the most fertile tracts look bare and ban-en. It is the
country, but it has nothing rural about it : no luxuriant hedge
rows, no shaded pathways, no cottages announcing by the
who had nine thousand guineas, or $46,800, for going out of his circuit to
plead in some great property cause. His brief (so called, like lucus a mn lu-
cendo, because of the prolixity of surh documents) extended to over two thon-
sand pages. From one to five hundred pounds sterling is the usual amount of
a " special" fee.— A record-brief mcims a brief in a civil suit, and takes its
name from the action being entered or placed on record in the minutes cf the
Court, before it can be tiled. — M.
* Of " the Four Courts," the Westminster hall of DubUn, and the subject of
a subsequent sketch. — M.

TEAVELLING AS IT WAS. 21
neatness without, that cleanliness and comfort are to be found
within; but one undiversified continuity of cheerless stone-
fences and roadside hovels, with their typhus-beds piled np in
front, and volumes of murky smoke forth issuing from the inte
rior, where men arid women, pigs* and children, are enjoying
the blessings of our glorious constitution.
I travelled in a public conveyance. We were four inside —
myself, a barrister, an attorney,! and a middle-aged, low-spir
ited Connaught gentleman, whom at first, from his despondency,
I took to be a recent insolvent, but he turned out to be only
the defendant in an impending ejectment-case, which had al
ready been three times decided in his favor. The roof of the
coach was covered (besides other luggage) with attorneys'
clerks, policemen, witnesses, reporters, &c., &c., all more or
less put in motion by the periodical transfer of litigation from
town to country. Before our first breakfast was concluded, I
had known the names and destination of almost all of them,
and from themselves ; for it is a trait of Irish character to be
on singularly confidential terms with the public. This is some
times troublesome, for they expect a return in kind ; but it is
often amusing, and anything is better than the deadly tacitur
nity of an English traveller. How often have I been whisked
* An Irish peasant being asked why he permitted his pig to take up its quai^
ters with his family, made an answer abounding vrith satirical -naiveti, " Why
not? Doesn't the place afford evety convenience that a pig can require ?"
t In England, during the seventy or eighty years immediately antecedent to
railwayism, and formerly in Ireland, the etiquette of the bar prohibited a bai>
rister from sharing a post-chaise with an attorney. The principle involved was
that he who had briefs to receive should not be on familiar terms with him who
had them to gi-ve — such being the relative positions of the respective "limbs
of the law" in question. When a barrister was intimate with an attorney, he
became liable to the imputation of playing at hugger-m-ugger, or cherishing him
for interested purposes. At one time it was considered scarcely correct for a
barrister to dine with an attorney — altogether a practitioner of a lower but
very money-making class. All this has passed away. As for travelling, the
rule which aUowed barrister and attorney to go together in a mail or stage
coach, because that was not necessarily tete-d-tSte, as necessarily would be in a
post-chaise which carried only two persons, extends to railway-can'iages, in
which aU members of the profession, including the Judges themselves, are un
avoidably mingled. — M.

22 AN lEISH CIECUIT.
along for miles and hundreds of miles with one of the latter
species, without a single interchange of thought to enliven the
way, with no return to any overture of sociality but defensive
hems and predetermined monosyllables 1
There is no stout-gentleman-like mystery upon the Irish
roads. The well-dressed young man, for example, who sits
beside you at the public breakfast-table, after troubling you
for the sugar-bowl, and observing that the eggs are musty, will
proceed, without further introduction, to tell you, " how his
father, a magistrate of the county, lives within three miles and
a half of the Cove of Cork,* and what fine shooting there is upon
his father's estate, and what a fine double-barrelled gun he (the
son) has, and how he has been up to Dublin to attend his col
lege examinations, and how he is now on his way down again
to be ready for the grouse" — to the dapper, pimpled-faced
personage at the other side of the table, who, while his third
cup of tea is pouring out, reveals pro bono publico that he fills
a confidential office in the bank of Messrs.  and Co., and
that his establishment has no less than five prosecutions for
forgery at the  assizes, and that he is going down to prove
the forgery iii them all, et sic de ceteris.
Upon the present occasion, however, there was one excep
tion. Among the outside passengers there were two that sat
and breakfasted apart (though there was no want of space at
the public table) in a recess, or rather a kind of inner room.
One of them, a robust, decent-looking man, if alone, would
have excited no particular observation; but the appearance
and deportment of his companion, and a sbange sort of impres
sion which I could perceive that his presence occasioned, ar
rested mj' attention. He was about thirty years of age ; had a
long, sunken, sallow visage, with vulgar features; coarse,
bushy, neglected black hair ; shaggy, overhanging brows ; and
a dark, deep-seated, sulky, ferocious eye. But though his as-
» The Cove of Cork, one of the finest hai-bors in tlie British dominions, has
ceased to be caUed by that name. A few yeai-s ago, on the first visit of Queen
Victoria to the south of Ireland, the authorities of Cork, in the toadying and
sycophantic spirit which often disgraces municipalities as well as individuals,
petitioned the Crown that Cove should be called Queen's-Town. To this
prayer the Queen " was graciously pleased to consent."  M.

AN APPEOVEE. 23
pect was vulgar, his dress was not so. It consisted of a new
blue coat and trowsers, a showy waistcoat, Wellington boots,*
and a gaudy-colored silk neckcloth.t Little or no conversation
passed between him and his companion, who never separated
from him, and seemed assiduous in his care that the best fare
the inn afforded should be placed before him. He, however,
seemed untouched by the attentions bestowed upon him, either
rejecting them gruffly, or accepting them with a hardened,
thankless air. His manner was altogether so extraordinary,
and the contrast between his haggard, forbidding countenance
and his respectable attire so striking, that my curiosity was
not a little raised, more especially as I could see that several
of the company eyed him with suspicion and dislike, while the
waiters approached him with signs of aversion which they took
no trouble to conceal. Their meal being concluded, his com
panion, after paying the bill for both, motioned to him, with a
certain air of command, to rise and follow him. He obeyed,
and retired in the same sullen, apathetic manner that had
marked the rest of his demeanor. From these appearances,
my first conjecture was that this must be some unfortunate per
son of imperfect understanding, who was travelling under the
care of a keeper.
Upon resuming my place in the coach, I inquired who he
was from one of my fellow-passengers (the barrister), and was
undeceived. He was an informer, or, more technically speak
ing, an approver, one of a party who a year before had perpe-
* Apropos des boties t The duke of Wellington, during his earliest popular^
ity, was made sponsor to two articles of wearing apparel. While he was in
the Peninsula, they were immortalized in the shape of an epitaph : —
" Here lies the duke of Wellington,
Once famed for battles others won ;
Who, after making, spending riches.
Bequeathed a name to — boots and breeches!" — M.
t The reader may recoUect part of the song-writer's description of an Iiish-
man " all in his glory" at Donnybrook Fair, with —
"A new Barcelona tied round his nate neck."
With many other things, better and worse, Donnybrook Fair, which was held
close to Dublin, has passed away- It has been '* put down" (like Bartholomew
Fair, in London) by the sovereign power of the Lord-Mayor. — M.

24: AN lEISH CIECUIT.
trated the murder of an entire family in the south. He had
lately been taken, had turned king's evidence, made confes
sions which led to the apprehension of his accomplices, and
was now proceeding, under charge of a policeman, to be a wit
ness for the crown upon their trial.* This information explained
only a part of what I had seen. I observed that I still could
not comprehend why such a miscreant should appear in so
respectable a dress, and be treated in other respects with a
degree of indulgence, to which another in his condition of life
(for he was of the lowest class), though unstained by any
crime, could have no pretension. The barrister made answer :
" This is often indispensable for the purposes of justice, for it
is difficult to imagine how unmanageable these ruffians some
times are. They know the importance of the testimony they
have to give, and which they alone can give, and in conse
quence become capricious and exacting in the extreme. Though
in the hands of government, and with the evidence of their
own admissions to convict them, they take a perverted pleas
ure in exercising a kind of petty tyranny over the civil authori
ties. They insist on having clothes, food, lodging, modes of
conveyance according to their particular whims ; and, if their
impertinent demands be resisted, threaten to withhold their
evidence and submit to be hanged. One starts at the singu
larity of a man's saying, ' Let me have a smart new blue coat,
with double-gilt buttons, or a halter — a pair of Wellington
boots, or the hangman!' but our desperate villains do these
things, and the person in question I can perceive is one of
them." The subject thus started led to a conversation upon Irish
courts of justice. I was in luck, for my fellow-traveller teemed
with anecdotes, which he related with native fluency and
point, touching judges, juries, counsel, witnesses, criminals,
hangmen, and aught else that appertained to Irish law. He
* Mr. Curran said, in one of his speeches, " Infoi-mers are worshipped in
the temple of justice even as the devil has been worshipped by pagans and sav
ages—even 60, in this wicked country, is the informer an object of judicial
idolatry — even so is he soothed by the music of human groans — even so is he
placated and incensed by the fiimes and by the blood of human sacrifices."  M.

A KEEET CLIENT. 25
told inter alia (would that I had noted down the details !) how-
Lord Avonmore* to his latest hour, would put no trust in a
Kerry-man, the reason being (as with indignant gravity he
used to justify his antipathy) that the only time he attended
the Tralee assizes, he was employed in a single half-guinea
case, in which he failed. And a day or two after, as he was
travelling alone on the road to Cork, he was waylaid by his
clients, reproached for his want of skill, and forcibly compelled
* Barry Yelverton, the dearest friend of Curran and the beloved of the good
and great in Ireland, was alike distinguished as a lawyer, orator, and states
man. In 1782, he became Attorney-General of Ireland. In 1784, he succeeded
Hussey Burgh, as Chief Baron of the Exchequer. In June, 1795, he was made
Lord Yelverton, Baron Avonmore. In December, 1800, he was created Vis
count Avonmore, gaining this step in the peerage by voting for the Union — a
vote which he regretted only once, and that was to his dying day. Witty him
self, he was the cause of wit in others. He was sometimes very absent in
mind. On one of these occasions, at dinner, when the common toast of Our
absent friends was given, while Avonmore was in a reverie, Curran informed
him that his health had just been drank. The unsuspecting judge started up,
and, after a very eloquent speech in acknowledgment, learned how he had been
hoaxed. Of all his forensic speeches, said to have been very good, only a brief
fragment exists — the two sentences in which he happily described what Black
stone had done for the laws of England by his Commentaries. *' He it was,'*
said he, " who first gave to the law the air of science. He found it a skeleton,
and he clothed it with life, color, and complexion ; he embraced the cold
statue, and by its touch it grew into youth, and health, and beauty." Almost
as brief is what has been left to us of his parliamentary eloquence, which was
great. Fitzgibbon, afterward Lord Clare, had attacked the illustrious Grattan
in his absence. Barry Yelverton defended his friend, and concluded by saying,
** The learned gentleman has stated what Mr. Grattan is : I will state what
he is not. He is not stped in his prejudices ; he does not trample on the resus
citation of his country, or live, like a caterpillar, on the decHne of her prosper
ity ; he does not stickle for the letter of the Constitution with the affectation of a
prude, and abandon its principles with the effrontery of a prostitute" Sir
Jonah Barrington has given the best sketch of Bany Yelverton. There are
many stories afloat as to his suffering great poverty in his early manhood,
and, as a proq^, his pathetically saying to his mother, " Oh, I wish I
had eleven shirts more !" When his mother inquired why he desired to have
that particular number, he is reported to have explained by saying, " Because
every gentleman should have a dozen." Against this may be placed the fact
that his father was a man of landed property iu the county of Cork, on the
banks of the Blackwater, and that his uncle, Charles O'Keefe, held the lucrative
appointment of registrar of the Court of Chancery in Ireland. Lord Avonmore
died on the 19th of August, 1805, — M.
Vol. I.— 2

26 AN IRISH OIEOUIT.
to refund the fee. And how a Clare jury of old, in a case of
felonious gallantry, acquitted the prisoner of the capital charge,
but found him guilty of " a great undacency,"* And how
Harry Grrady.t in a desperate case at Limerick, hoisted an
inebriated bystander upon the table to prove his statement,
and every question being answered by a hiccup, got a verdict
by persuading the jury that the opposite party had made his
only witness drunk. And how a dying felon, after confessing
all the enormities of his career, was asked by the priest if he
could not recollect one single good action of his life to be put
to the credit of his soul, to which the answer was — "No,
father — God forgive me, not one — not a single — Oh! yes, I
now remember — I once shot a ganger."
The entrance of the bar into an Irish assize town, though
still an event, has nothing of the scenic effect that distin
guished it in former days. At present, from the facilities of
travelling, each separate member can repair, as an unconnected
individual, to the place of legal rendezvous. This has more
convenience, but less of popular eclatX Till about half a cen-
* This is nothing to the verdict of a Welsh jury, " Not Guilty — but we rec
ommend him not^to do it again." It is related, also, that an English jury, not
very bright, haWng before them a prisoner charged "with burglary, and being
unwilling to convict him capitally, as no personal violence accompanied the
robbery, gave the safe verdict " Guilty of getting out of the window." But the
most original was that of an Irish jury before whom a prisoner pleaded " Guil
ty," throwing himself on the mercy of the court. The verdict was "Not
Guilty." The judge in surprise exclaimed, " Why, he has confessed his crime !"
The foreman responded, "Ah, my lord, -you do not know that fellow, but we do.
He is the most notorious liar in the whole county, and no twelve men who
know his character can believe a word that he says." So the prisoner escaped,
as the jury adhered to their verdict. — M.
t Harry Deane Grady was for many years first counsel to the commissioners
of customs and excise in Ireland. When this office was abolished as useless
and expensive (each of the two counsel netting £3,730 on an appointment
with a salary of £100 a year) Mr. Grady was awarded a life pension of £2,000
per annum, as compensation ! — M.
t At present, on the North Wales circuit, where not more than a dozen bar
risters attend, they travel from county to county in an omnibus of their own,
which also conveys their clerks, trunks, and other luggage. It is a convenient
and cheap arrangement. There is more practical fun among lawyers " on cir-.
ouit," than at any time, perhaps. Except when actually in the Courts, formal-

A LEGAL CAVALCADE. 27
tury ago, it was otherwise. Then the major part of the bar
of each circuit travelled on horseback, and for safety and
pleasure kept together on the road. The holsters in front of
the saddles — the outside-coat strapped in a roll behind — the-
dragoon-like regularity of pace at which they advanced, gave
the party a certain militant appearance. An equal number of
servants followed, mounted like their masters, and watchful
of the saddle-bags, containing the circuit wardrobe, and circuit
library that dangled from their horses' flanks. A posse of
pedestrian suttlers bearing wine and groceries, and such other
luxuries as might not be found upon the road, brought up the
rear. Thus the legal caravan pushed along ; and a survivor
of that period assures me that it was a goodly sight ; and great
was the deference and admiration with which they were
honored at every stage ; and when they approached the assize
town, the gentlemen of the grand-jury were wont to come out
in a body to bid them welcome. And when they met, the
greetings, and congratulations, and friendly reciprocities, were
conducted on both sides in a tone of cordial vociferation that
is now extinct.
For the counsellor of that day was no formalist ; neither had
too much learning attenuated his frame, or prematurely quench
ed his animal spirits ; but he was portly and vigorous, and
laughed in a hearty roar, and loved to feel good claret dis
porting through his veins, and would any day prefer a fox-
chase to a special retainer; and all this in no way detracted
from his professional repute, seeing that all his competitors
were even as he was, and that juries in those times were more
gullible than now, and judges less learned and inflexible, and
technicalities less regarded or understood, and motions in
arrest of judgment seldom thought of — the conscience of our
ity is sent away, on leave of absence, and the bar-mess becomes the focus of
wit ajid merriment — particularly when, in a sort of mock-court, they proceed
to the trial of ^*e«£^o-ofFenders. Once, at Lancaster, where the Northern Cir
cuit mess was honored with the company of Lord Brougham, long one of their
most distinguished members, who had become Lord Chancellor of England,
they arraigned him — for desertion I He pleaded his own cause, with such
infinite wit, that the jury brought in a verdict of " Guilty" against the accuser
as well as the accused, iining each of them a dozen of claret. — M.

28 AN lEISH OIKCUIT.
counsellor being ever at ease when he felt that his client was
going to be hanged upon the plain and obvious principles of
common sense and natural justice, so that circuit and circuit-
business was a recreation to him ; and each day through the
assizes he was feasted and honored by the oldest families of
the county, and he had ever the place of dignity beside the
host ; and his flashes of merriment (for the best things said in
those days were said by counsellors) set the table in a roar,
and he could sing, and would sing a jovial song too : and if
asked, he would discourse gravely and pithily of public affairs,
being deeply versed in state-concerns, and, peradventure, a
member of the Commons' house of parliament ; and when he
spoke, he spoke boldly, and as one not fearing interruption or
dissent — and what he said was received and treasured up hy
his admiring audience, as oracular revelations of the fate of
kingdoms till the next assizes.*
* It may be necessary to state that, " across the water," the barrister or
counsellor is of a rank superior to the attorney (without whom he could not
earn a shilling), and has a different line of business. To become a barrister it
is only necessary for a gentleman to enter his name on the books of one of the
Inns of Court ; to pay entrance-money and fees, amounting to about one hundred
and twenty pounds sterling ; to eat twelve law-dinners in the year, during four
years; to appear before the Benchers (eminent barristers of long standing) and
read a few lines of a thesis on some point of law, which document can be pur
chased for a few shillings ; and, having passed thi-ough this ordeal, facetiously
termed " an examination," then to be admitted to the rank of an utter or mder
barrister (because none but Queen's Counsel, Sergeants-at-Law, or barristers
with patents of precedency, can sit within the bar in the Law Courts), and be
" called to the bar," by having his name shouted out, at dinner, calling him
from the students' to the upper or barristers' table. It will be seen, from this,
that as the barrister receives no instruction during his four years of pupilage, it
entirely rests with himself whether and in what manner he shall obtain a knowl
edge of the law. This is to be done by study, by attendance at the chambers
of some eminent pleader (whom he usually pays one hundred pounds steriing),
and by noticing the practice of the law during his attendance in the courts.
On the other hand, you must be regularly apprenticed to an attorney for five
years, and, -nhen your time is served, pass through a very strict examination
in law and its practice before you are admitted as an attorney. In no case can
a rlient do business, directly, with the barrister, who can only be approached,
professionally, by the attorney. It is precisely as if a man being ill, the physi
cian should refuse to prescribe for him, unless his symptoms and ailments were
detailed, at second-hand, by the apothecary. The attorney literally acts as

THE COUNSELLOK S SOCIAL BTATTTS. 29
Thus far my informant — himself a remnant of this by-gone
race, and as such contrasting, not without a sigh, the modern
degeneracy of slinking into a circuit-town in a corner of the
Dublin mail, with the pomp and circumstance that marked the
coming of the legal tourist in the olden time. Still the circuit-
going barrister of the present day, though no longer so promi
nent an object of popular observance, is by no means considered
as an ordinary person. The very title of Counsellor continues
to maintain its major influence over the imaginations of the
populace. When he comes to be known among them, land
lords, waiters, guards, and coachmen, bow to him as low, and
are as alert in service, as if he were a permanent grand-jury
man, or chief-magistrate of police. At an assizes ball (if he be
still in his junioritj') the country-belles receive him with their
choicest smirks, while the most influential country-gentlemen
(excepting those who have received a college education, or who
have been to Cheltenham) are cautious and complimentary in
their converse with one who can take either side of any ques
tion extempore, divide it, by merely crossing his fingers, into
three distinct points of view, and bring half a dozen knock
down arguments to hear upon each.
jackall to the barrister ; but an attorney in good practice, who has many law
suits to carry on, has it in his power to help a clever young barrister, by em
ploying him as junior coimsel in such suits — there ordinarily being at least two
barristers on each side in every civil or Nisi Prius trial. The attorney " gets
up the case" — prepares the brief or statement of facts and evidence, with refer
ences to points of law, and previous decisions of the Courts also — fixes the
amount of fees to counsel, and pays the money on delivery of the brief; there
being the anomaly that, while the barrister's fee is not recoverable by law, the
attorney's bills of costs are, and their amount is fixed by rules of Court, and
taxed by proper officers. There is no instance on record of a barrister's ever
having become an attorney. Several of the best men at the bar (among whom
Lord Truro now stands) have commenced as attorneys. To effect this change
the man must cease to be an attorney, by having his name struck off the Court-
roll, before he can enter as a student at one of the Inns of Court, where, after
four years' delay, as above mentioned, he may be called to the bar. Should it
be discovered that a barrister has professionally acted vdthout being " in
structed" by an attorney, or that he has an understanding to the effect of shar
ing profits with an attorney, he would be disbarred — that is, turned out of the
profession. — M.

30 AN lEISH CIKOUIT.
The most striking scenes upon an Irish circuit are to he
found in the criminal courts. The general aspect of the in
terior, and the forms of proceeding, have nothing peculiar;
but scarcely a case occurs that does not elicit some vivid
exhibition of national character, or afford matter of serious
reflection upon the moral and political condition of the country.
I would add, that the very absence of such reflection on the
part of the spectators, is itself an observable phenomenon : for
instance, the first morning that I entered the Crown Court at
 , I perceived the witness-table covered by a group of
mountain-peasantry, who turned out to be three generations
of one family, grandfather, father, and three or four athletic
sons. Their appearance, though decent, was wild and pictur
esque. They were all habited in a complete suite of coarse
blue frieze. The eldest of the party sustained himself upon a
long oaken staff, which gave to him a certain pastoral air,
while each of the others, down to the youngest, a fine, fierce,
black-haired, savage-eyed lad of seventeen, was armed with a
formidable club of the same favorite timber. The old man
resting upon his staff, and addressing the interpreter, was
meekly and deliberately explaining, in the Irish language, for
the information of the court, the object of his application. It
needed no interpreter to tell me that he was recounting a tale
of violence and wrong. The general purport, as he proceeded,
was intelligibly translated in the kindling looks, the vehement
gesticulation — and, where any circumstance was omitted or
understated — the impassioned and simultaneous corrections
of the group behind him. Though he more than once turned
round to rebuke their impetuosity, it was easy to perceive that
his own tranquillity of manner was the result of effort ; hut the
others, and least of all the younger portion of the party, could
not submit to restrain their emotions. The present experi
ment of appealing to the laws was evidently new to them, and
unpalatable. As they cast their quick suspicious glances
round them, and angrily gave their cudgels a spasmodic clench,
they looked less like suitors in a court of justice, than as an
armed deputation from a barbarous tribe, reluctantly appearing
in a civilized enemy's camp with proposals for a cessation of

OCCUPANTS OP THK DOCK. 31
hostilities. And there was some such sacrifice of warlike in
stincts in the present instance. The party, for once listening
to pacific counsel, had come down from their hills to seek com
pensation from the county for the loss of their house and stock,
which had been maliciously burned down — they suspected,
hut had no proof — by " their old enemies the O'SuUivans."
Yet the details of their case, embracing midnight conflagration,
imminent risk of life, destruction of property, produced, so
familiar are such outrages, not the slightest sensation in a
crowded court. Some necessary forms being gone through,
they were dismissed, with directions to appear before the grand
jury ; and I do not forget that, as they were retiring, the
youngest of the party uttered a vehement exclamation, in his
native tongue, importing — " That if the grand-jury refused
them justice, every farthing of their loss should (come of it
what would) be punctually paid down to them in the blood of
the O'SuUivans."
The dock of an Irish county-court is quite a study. From
the character of the crimes to be tried, as appearing on the
calendar, I expected to find there a collection of the most
villanous faces in the community : it was the very reverse.
I would even say that, as a general rule, the weightier the
charge, the better the physiognomy, and more prepossessing
the appearance of the accused. An ignoble misdemeanant, or
sneaking petty-larcenist, may look his offence pretty accu
rately ; but let the charge amount to a good transportable or
capital felony, and ten to one but the prisoner will exhibit a
set of features from which a committee of craniologists would
never infer a propensity to crime. In fact, an Irish dock,
especially after a brisk insurrectionary winter, affords some of
the choicest samples of the peasantry of the country — fine,
hardy, healthy, muscular looking beings, with rather a dash of
riot about the eye, perhaps, but with honest, open, manly coun
tenances, and sustaining themselves with native courage amid
the dangers that beset them; and many of them are in fact
eitlier as guiltless as they appear, or their crimes have been
committed under circumstances of excitation, which, in their
own eyes at least, excuse the enormity. With regard to the

32 AN IRISH CIECUIT.
former, there are one or two national peculiarities, and not of
a very creditable kind, which account for their numbers.
The lower orders of the Irish, when their passions are once
up on the right side, are proverbially brave, disinterested, and
faithful ; but reverse the object, give them a personal enemy
to circumvent, or an animosity of their faction to gratify,
and all the romantic generosity of their character vanishes.
As partisans, they have no more idea of " fair play," than
a belligerent Indian of North America. In the prosecution
of their intei-minable feuds, if they undertake to redress
themselves, armed members will beset a single defenceless
foe, and crush him without remorse ; and in the same spirit
of reckless vengeance, when they appeal to the law, they do
not hesitate to include in one sweeping accusation, every friend
or relative of the alleged offender, whose evidence might he
of any avail upon his defence ; and hence, for the real or
imputed crime of one, whole families, men and women, and
sometimes even children, are committed to prison, and made
to pass through the ordeal of a public trial. Another prolific
source of these wanton committals is a practice, pretty ancient
in its origin, but latterly very much on the increase, of at
tempting to succeed on a question of civil right by the aid of a
criminal prosecution. Thus the legality of a distress for rent
will come on to be tried for the first time under the form of a
charge for cow-stealing, or the regularity of a " notice to quit,"
upon an indictment for a forcible and felonious dispossession.*
* These ¦ vindictive or wanton prosecutions are becoming so frequent, and
the immediate and consequential evils are so great — for revenge in some law
less form or other is sure to follow — that the government of the country ought
to interfere. The judges, when such cases come before them, never fail to ex
press their indignation, and to warn the magistracy to be more cautious in
granting committals without thoroughly sifting the truth of the depositions upon
which they are grounded ; but the guilty party, the malicious prosecutor, es
capes unpunished. His crime is wilfhl perjury — but this is an offence against
which, by a kind of general consent in Ireland, the laws are seldom or never
put in force — and hence one of the causes of its frequency ; but if prosecutors
and their witnesses were made practically to understand that the law would
hold them responsible for the ti-uth of what they swear, if the several crown
solicitors were instructed to watch the trials upon their respective circuits and
to make every flagrant case of perjury that appeared the subject of prompt and,

LAEEY CEONAn's TEIAL. 33
But even omitting these exceptions, I should say from my own
observations that an Irish jail is, for the most part, delivered*
of remarkably fine children, particularly " the boys," though
from the numbers at a single birth, it would be too much to
expect that they all should be found " doing well." In many
the vital question is quickly decided, while in others, and it is
for these that one's interest is most raised, the chances of life
and death appear so nicely balanced, that the most experi
enced observer can only watch the symptoms, without ventur
ing to prognosticate the issue. Such, to give an apposite ex
ample, was the memorable instance of Larry Cronan.
Larry Cronan was a stout, hardy, Irish lad, of five-and-
twenty. Like Saint Patrick, "he came of dacent people." t
He was a five-pound freeholder — paid his rent punctually —
voted for his landlord, and against his conscience — seldom
missed a mass, a fair, a wake, or a row — hated, and occasion
ally cudgelled the tithe-proctor — loved his neighbor — had a
vigorous prosecution, some check might be given to what is now a monstrous
£Lud increasing mischief. The experiment, I understand, was made some time
ago at Cork, and, though only in a single instance, with a very salutary effect.
On the first day of the assizes, a by-stander, seeing a dock friend in danger,
jumped upon the table to give him " the loan of an oath." His testimony turn
ing out to be a tissue of the grossest perjury, the judge ordered a bill of indict
ment for the offence to be forthwith prepared and sent up to the grand jury.
The bill was found, and in the course of the same day, the offender was tried,
convicted, sentenced to transportation, put on board a convict-ship then ready
to sail, and, by day-break next morning found himself bearing away before a
steady breeze for Botany bay. The example had such an effect, that scarcely
an alibi-witness was to be had for love or money during the remainder of the
assizes. * The word " delivered," is used here in reference to the fact that, in Great
Britain and Ireland, the judges of assize, who go on circuit, fi-om county to
county, are bound to make " a general jail delivery," that is, to try every prison-'
er, in each place, unless the inquiry before the grand jury should ignore the bills
of indictment, or, " a true bill" being found, the trial is deferred from some
legal cause. Sometimes, of course, when the crown prosecutor declines trying
the accused, the ^^ nolle ^oseq-u;^' opens the prison-door, and sometimes, when
the offence is not very hea-vy, tt ; prisoner is liberated pro tem.., on giving bail
for his appearance, to be tried p i the next assizes. — M.
t " Saint Patrick was a gentleman.
And came of dacent people." — Irish Song,
2*

"i AN IEI9H CIECUIT.
wife and five children, and, on the whole, passed for one of the
most prosperous and well-conducted boys in his barony. All
this, however, did not prevent his being " given to understand
by the Clerk of the Crown," at the summer assizes for his native
county, that he stood indicted in No. 15, for that he, ori a cer
tain night, and at a certain place, feloniously and burglariously
entered a certain dwelling-house, and then and there commit
ted the usual misdeeds against his majesty's peace and the
statute ; and in No. 16, that he stood capitally indicted under
the Ellenborough act;* and in No. 18, for a common assault.
I was present at his trial, and still retain a vivid recollection
of the fortitude and address with which he made his stand
against the law ; and yet there were objects around him quite
sufficient to unnerve the boldest heart — a wife, a sister, and
an aged mother, for such I found to be the three females that
clung to the side bars of the dock, and awaited in silent
agony the issue of his fate. But the prisoner, unsoftened and
undismayed, appeared unconscious of their presence. Every
faculty of his soul was on the alert to prove to his friends and
the county at large, that he was not a man to be hanged with
out a struggle. He had used the precaution to come down to
the dock that morning in his best attire, for he knew that with
an Irish jury, the next best thing to a general good character
is a respectable suit of clothes. It struck me that his new
silk neckkerchief, so bright and glossy, almost betokened
innocence ; for who would have gone to the unnecessary ex
pense, if he apprehended that its place was so soon to be sup
plied by the rope ^ His countenance bore no marks of his
previous imprisonment. He was as fresh and healthy, aud
his eye as bright, as if he had all the time been out on bail
When his case was called on, instead of shrinking under the
general buzz that his appearance excited, or turning pale at
the plurality of crimes of which he was arraigned, he man-
fidly looked the danger in the face, and put in action every
resource within his reach to avert it. Having despatched a
* A law passed by tbe British pariiament, at the instance of the late Lord
Ellenborough, chiuf-justice of England. It provided punishment for such
offences against tho person as " cutting and maiming, or mayhem,"  M.

LAEET CEONAn's TEIAL. 35
messenger to bring in O'Connell from the other court,* and
beckoned to his attorney to approach the dock-side, and keep
within whispering distance while the jury were swearing, he
"looked steadily to his challengers," and manifested no ordi
nary powers of physiognomy, in putting by every juror that
had anything of "a dead, dull, hang look." He had even the
sagacity, though against the opinion of the attorney, to strike
off one country-gentleman from his own barony, a friend of his
in other respects, but who owed him a balance of three pounds
for illicit whiskey. Two or three sets of alibi witnesses, to
watch the evidence for the crown, and lay the venue of his
absence from the felony according to circumstances, were in
waiting, and, what was equally material, all tolerably sober.
The most formidable witness for the prosecution had been
that morning bought off. The consideration was, a first cousin
of Larry's in marriage, a forty-shilling freehold upon Larry's
farm, with a pig and a plough to set the young couple going.
Thus prepared, and his counsel now an-ived, and the bustle
of his final instructions to his attorney and circumstanding
friends being over, the prisoner calmly committed the rest to
fortune ; resembling in this particular the intrepid mariner,
who, perceiving a storm at hand, is all energy and alertness
to provide against its fury, until, having done all that skill and
forethought can effect, and made his vessel as " snug and
tight" as the occasion will permit, he looks tranquilly on as
she drifts before the gale, assured that her final safety is now
in other hands than his.

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

36 AN IRISH CIECUIT.
The trial went on after the usual fashion of trials of the
kind. Abundance of hard swearing on the direct ; retractions
and contradictions on the cross-examinations. The defence
was a masterpiece. Three several times the rope seemed
irrevocably entwined round poor Lan-y's neck — as many
times the dexterity of his counsel untied the (jordian knot.
From some of the witnesses he extracted that they were
unworthy of all credit, being notorious knaves or process-
servers. Others he inveigled into a metaphysical puzzle
touching the prisoner's identity ; others he stunned by re
peated blows with the butt-end of an Irish joke. For minutes
together, the court, and jury, and galleries, and dock, were in
a roar. However the law or the facts of the case might turn
out, it was clear that the laugh, at least, was all on Larry's
side. In this perilous conjuncture, amid all the rapid alter
nations of his case — now the prospect of a triumphant return
to his home and friends, now the sweet vision abruptly dis
pelled, and the gibbet and executioner staring him in the face
— Larry's countenance exhibited a picture of heroical immo
bility. Once, and once only, when the evidence was i-ushing
in a full tide against him, some signs of mortal trepidation
overcast his visage. The blood in his cheeks took fright and
fled — a cold perspiration hurst from his brow. His lips he-
came glued together. His sister, whose eyes were riveted
upon him, as she hung from the dock-side, extended her arm,
and applied a piece of orange to his mouth. He accepted the
relief, but, like an exhausted patient, without turning aside
to see by whose hand it was administered. At this crisis
of his courage, a home-thrust from O'Connell floored the wit
ness who had so discomposed his client ; the public buzzed
their admiration, and Larry was himself again. The case for
the crown having closed, the prisoner's counsel announced
that he -w-ould call no witnesses. Larry's friends pressed hard
tp have pne, at least, of the alibis proyed. The counsel was
inflexible, and thpy reluctantly submitted.
The case went to the jury loaded with hanging matter, hut
still not without a saving doubt. After long deliberation, the
(ioubt prevailed. The jury came out, and the glorious goun^

laeey's teiumph. 37
of " not guilty," announced to Larry Cronan that, for this time,
he had miraculously escaped the gallows. He bowed with
undissembled gratitude to the verdict. He thanked the jury.
He thanked " his lordship's honor." He thanked his counsel
— shook hands with the jailer — sprung at a bound over the
dock, Vas caught as he descended in the arms of his friends,
and hurried away in triumph to the precincts of the court. I
saw him a few minutes after, as he was paraded through the
main street of the town on his return to his barony. The
sight was enough to make one almost long to have been on
the point of being hanged. The principal figure was Larry
himself, advancing with a firm and buoyant step, and occa
sionally giving a responsive flourish of his cudgel, which he
had already resumed, to the cheerings and congratulations
amid which he moved along. At his sides were his wife and
sister, each of whom held the collar of his coat firmly grasped,
and, dragging him to and fro, interrupted his progress every
moment, as they threw themselves upon him, and gave vent to
their joy in another and another convulsive hug. A few
yards in front, his old mother bustled along in a strange sort
of a pace, between a trot and a canter, and every now and
then, discovering that she had shot too far ahead, pirouetted
round, and stood in the centre of the street, clapping her
withered hands and shouting out her ecstasy in native Irish,
until the group came np, and again propelled her forward. A
cavalcade of neighbors, and among them the intended alibi
witnesses, talking as loud and looking as important as if their
perjury had been put to the test, brought up the rear. And
such was the manner and form in which Larry Cronan was
reconducted to his household gods, who saw him that night
celebrating, in the best of whiskey and bacon, the splendid
issue of his morning's pitched battle with the law.*
* Phillips relates that at the assizes of Enniskillen, Plunket once defended
a horse-stealei with such consummate tact, that one of the fraternity, in a par
oxysm of delight, burst into an exclamation, " Long life to you, Plunket ! The
first horse I steal, boys, by Jekurs, I'll have Plunket !" John O'Connell tells
an anecdote of his father, which is worth repeating. He defended a man
charged with highway robbery, and by an able cross-examination procured his
acquittal. Next year, at the assizes of the same town, he had to defend the

38 AN lEISH CIECUIT.
The profusion of crime periodically appearing upon the Irish
calendars, wears, it must be admitted, a very tremendous as
pect ; quite sufficient to deter the British capitalist from trust
ing his wealth within its reach. Yet, from the observations I
have had an opportunity of making, I am greatly inclined to
think that instances of pure, unmitigated, unprovoked invasion
of life and property would be found (every requisite compari
son being made) to be, upon the whole, less frequent than in
England. The hardened, adroit, and desperate English felon,
embracing and persevering in crime as a means of bettering
his condition, is a character that, with the exception of two or
three of the capital towns, has few counterparts in Ireland.
The Irish peasantry have unquestionably increased in fierce
ness within the last twenty or thirty years ; yet, as far as out
rages upon property for the sake of gain are concerned, it is
never the genius of a people so poor and contented with so lit
tle, and that little so easily procured, to become gratuitous
thieves and highwaymen. They have too little taste for even
the necessaries of life to risk their necks for its luxuries. At
seasons of unusual pressure, and under circumstances of pecu
liar excitement, they are less abstinent ; but even then they
violate the laws in numbers and as partisans, and their mur
ders and depredations have more the character of a political
revolt than of a merely felonious confederacy. In truth, it
may be almost said that, in the southern districts of Ireland,
the only constituted authentic organ of popular discontent is
midnight insurrection. If rents are too high, if the tithe-proc
tor is insatiable, if agents are inexorable and distrain with
undue severity, the never-failing Captain Eock instanter takes
same man, under charge of ha-ving committed a burglary, with \'iolence nearly
amounting to murder. The juiy discredited the Government witnesses, could
not agree on a verdict, and the prisoner was discharged. Again, O'Connell
had to defend him — this time on a charge of piracy — by demurring to the
jurisdiction of the Court, the offence, committed " on the high seas," being
cognizable only before an Admiralty Court. When the man saw his successful
counsel turn round to the dock, in which he stood, he stretched over to him,
and, raising eyes and hands most piously and fervently to heaven, cried out,
" Oh, Mr. O'Connell, may the Lord spare you — to me!" — M.

CEIMINAL GALLANTET. 39
the field with his nocturnal forces,* issues his justificatory mani
festoes, levies arms and ammunition upon the gentry, burns a
few obnoxious tenements, murders a police-magistrate or two,
and thus conveys to the public his dissatisfation with a state
of things, -^vhich (supposing them possible to exist in any quar
ter ofEngland) would be bloodlessly laid before the nation for
reprobation and redress, in a series of well-penned letters to the
editor of the " Morning Chronicle."t
There is, however, one particular felony, always figuring
conspicuously upon an Irish calendar, which I rather fear that
a genuine son of St. Patrick has a natural predisposition to
commit for its own sake. Irishmen the most sensitive for the
honor of their country, must, I think, admit that among them
a youthful admirer of the fair sex, with a hot-spring of true
Milesian blood in his veins, is disposed to be rather abrupt and
* The spirit of Irish disaffection (put do"wn by Mr. O'Connell, who showed that
it actually supplied the Government with good grounds for making and enforcing
harsh laws) found numerous leaders in the south and west of Ireland, most of
whom assumed the soubriquet of " Captain Rock." The forces under the com
mand of these leaders were generally called " Whiteboys," from their common
practice of wearing white shirts over their usual garments dui-ing their noctur
nal excursions. Thomas Moore, who has apostrophized him as " the genius of
Riot," wrote the Memoirs of Captain Rock, in which, -with more truth than
poetry, he thus briefly stated the causes of Irish discontent : —
" As long as Ireland shall pretend.
Like sugar-loaf, turned upside do-wn.
To stand upon its smaller end.
So long shall live old Rock's renown.
As long as Popish spade and scythe
Shall dig and cut the Sassenagh's tithe ;
And Popish purses pay the tolls.
On heaven's road, for Sassenagh souls —
As long as Millions shall kneel dovra
To ask of Thousands for their own.
While Thousands proudly tum away.
And to the Millions answer, ' Nay !' —
So long the merry reign shall be
Of Captain Rock and his family.'' — M.
t In 1825, when this sketch was published, the " Morning Chronicle" had
nearly as much influence, in and out of London, as The Times, and was the
great organ of the liberal party in England and Ireland. — M.

40 AN lEISn CIRCUIT.
peremptory toward the object of his adoration. And yet among
all the various cases that are tried at an Irish assizes, those in
which " ladies are recommended to leave the court" are per
haps the most perplexing to a judge and jury.* If, on the one
hand, the Hibernian lover be often hasty and irregular in his
style of courtship ; on the other, the beauties of the bogs (let
Mr. O'Connell deny it as he will) are sometimes frail : and,
besides, the charge is in itself so easily made, and so difficult
to refute — still it may in any given case be true ; and the wit
nesses depose to their wrongs in such heart-rending accents,
and weep, and sigh, and faint away, so naturally — but then
so many instances occur in which all this turns out to he im
posture ; and the complainant has always so many motives to
swear to her own purity through thick and thin, and the bound
ary between importunacy and felony is so undefinable, and she
is in general so ready to consent, that, after all, the affair shall
terminate, like a modern comedy, in a marriage, for iu nine
cases out of ten it is almost impossible to divine whether the
real object of the prosecutrix is the prisoner's life, or his hand
and fortune. The party accused (whenever in point of fact he
can do so) suspects it be the latter ; and it is often amusing
enough to watch his deportment, as influenced by that impres
sion, throughout the progress of his trial.
At first he takes his station at the bar with the confident and
* In England it is the rale for ladies to attend the assizes, in Ireland it is
the exception. At any place, the practice is absurd and indelicate. The fair
sex who visit the Courts of Law, listening for hours to evidence and speeches
which they could take no interest in, even if they understood them, evidendy
go to exhibit their charms and — their wardrobe ! An aggravated murder case
pleases them — as a tragedy would. But their peculiar delight is to listen to
the details of an action for breach of promise of marriage. In cases of seduc
tion and cri-m. con,, the crier of the Court gives a preliminary warning "ladies
and boys will leave the Court." I recollect one of these cases, in which the
bulk of the petticoated spectators did not vacate their seats — their prurient
curiosity was predominant. In stating the facts, the prosecuting counsel, see
ing ladies in Court, and not wishing to wound their sense of delicacy, hesitated
for words in which to wrap up the necessary grossness of the details. " Broth
er," said the Judge, " as all the modest women have left the Court, you may
call things by their proper names." Then followed a great fluttering of bon
net-plumes, and, in five minutes after the reproof, the fair sex had left the
Court! — M.

GETTING A WIFE " ON TEIAL." 41
somewhat swaggering air of a man determined not to be bullied
by a capital prosecution into a match against his taste. It is
in vain that the prosecutrix apprizes him, by her softened and
half-forgiving glances, and her tender reluctance to swear too
hard at first, that if he says but the word she is ready "to
drop the business," and fly into his arms. In vain his friends
and hers endeavor to impress upon him the vast difference in
point of comfort and respectability between life with a wife
and home, and the premature abridgment of his days upon a
gibbet. " No ; his mind is made up, and he'll run all chances ;
and if she only tells the whole matter just as it happened, and
might happen to anybody, not a hair of his head has cause to
be afear'd." This lasts for a time ; but as the case in its prog
ress begins to wear a serious aspect, and the countenance of
his attorney to assume along with it a disastrous gravity, won
drous is the revolution of sentiment that is gradually but rap
idly produced. She, upon whom a little while ago he frowned
in scorn, on a sudden begins to find favor in his sight. With
every step that her gentle hand conducts him toward his doom,
he becomes more conjugally inclined. The more the thicken
ing danger compels him to reconsider his determination, the
more clearly he sees that after all it will be better to receive
his " death from her eyes" than from her tongue ; until at
length, being fairly led to the foot of the gallows, with the rope,
in such cases the most potent of love-chains, fast about his neck,
he announces himself the repentant lover, tenders the amende
honorable, and is transferred with all convenient speed from the
impending gripe of the hangman to the nuptial clasp of a young
and blooming bride. Such matches can hardly be said to be
" made in heaven ;" yet I have never heard that they turn out
less prosperously than others. The wife is all gratitude and
pride for having been " made an honest woman ;" the husband
is usually bound over at the time of the marriage to keep the
peace toward the mistress of his soul ; and, with these collat
eral, securities for domestic bliss, they generally contrive to
live on, and defy Mr. Malthus, with as much harmony as if
their fates had been united by a less circuitous process.*
* There is a difference of opinion among the judges as to the expediency of
permitting a prosecution to be stopped in the manner above described. The

42 AN lEISH CIECUIT.
These are things to smile at ; but exhibitions of a far differ
ent character occasionally occur — not, as already stated, more
frequently than elsewhere, but when they do appear, present
ing instances of deep aboriginal depravity, for which no politi
cal or social palliation can be found. Nor is it exclusively
from among the refuse of the community that such examples
may be taken. Of this I have before me a remarkable illus
tration in the details of a case that happened a few years ago,
and which, in addition to the singularity of the incidents, has
the novelty of being now for the first time presented in a
printed form to the public*
The river Shannon, in its passage westward toward the
Atlantic, expands, about forty miles below the city of Lim
erick, into a capacious sheet of water resembling an estuary,
and making a distance of ten or twelve miles from hank to
bank. At the northern, or county of Clare side, is the town
of Kilrush. Upon the opposite shore, adjoining the borders
of the counties of Limerick and Kerry, is the town of Tarbert;
and a few miles higher up the stream the now inconsiderable
village of Glyn — the same from which a branch of the Fitz
geralds originally took their ancient and still-honored title of
" Knights of Glyn." None of these places make any kind of
show upon the banks, which besides are pretty thickly planted
almost down to the water's edge. The river itself in this part
question is fiill of difficulty ; but all things considered, it would probably be
more salutary, to let the law in every instance take its course. If an indul
gence, which originated in humanity, often saves a court and jury from a dis
tressing duty, it, on the other hand, has a tendency to encourage interested
prosecutions aiid also to render the actual commission of the crime more fre
quent, by holding out to offenders the possibility of such a means of escape in
the last resort. [At present, and for many years past, a prosecution for abduc
tion once brought before a jury is not -allowed to be stopped — except for want
of evidence. The result is that the offence has scarcely been heard of latter-
ly.-M.] * Upon the incidents here related, with a graphic clearness and force most
touching in their naked simplicity, the late Gerald Griffin, himself a "Limer
ick man," founded " Tho Collegians," his most striking and truthful work of
fiction. The original of his " Hardress Crcgan" was John Scanlan, whose
name was not published by Mr. Shiel, out of respect for the feelings of his
family, one of the most respectable in the South of Ireland. — M.

A MYSTERIOUS MUEDEE. 43
presents few signs of human intercourse. In the finest summer
weather the eye may often look round and search iu vain for
a single bank or boat to break the solitude of the scene. The
general desolation is in fact at times so complete, that were
an adept in crime to be in quest of a place where a deed
of violence might be perpetrated under the eye of God alone,
he could not select a fitter scene than the channel of the river
Shannon, midway between the points I have just described.
One nxorning, a little after sunrise, about the latter end of
July, in the year 1819, two poor fishermen, named Patrick
Connell and .... Driscol, who lived at Money-Point, a small
hamlet near Kilrush, went down to the river-side, according to
their custom, to attend to their occupation. As they walked
along the strand in the direction of their boat, they came upon
a human body which had been washed ashore by the last tide.
It was the remains of a young female, and had no clothing or
covering of any kind excepting a small bodice. Who or what
she had been they could not conjecture, but how she came by
her death was manifest. They found a rope tied at one end
as tightly as possible round the neck, and at the other present
ing a large loop, to which they supposed that a stone or some
other weight had been attached, until the working of the
stream had caused it to separate. From the general state of
the body, and more particularly from the teeth having almost
all dropped out, they concluded that it must have been under
the water for several weeks. After a short consultation, the
two fishermen resolved upon proceeding without dela^ to Kil
rush, to apprize the civil authorities of the circumstance ; but
in the meantime they could not bear to think of leaving the
remains exposed as they had found them on the shore, and
liable to be borne away again by the tide before they could
return. They accordingly removed the body to a little dis
tance beyond high-water mark, and gave it a temporary inter
ment. The feelings with which they performed this office were
marked by that tender and reverential regard toward the dead
which distinguishes the Irish peasantry. Upon the subsequent
investigations, it became of importance to ascertain whether
the burial had been conducted in such.a manner as not to have

44 AN lEISH CIECUIT.
occasioned any additional injury or disfigurement to the re
mains ; and Patrick Connell being asked the question, replied
in a tone of voice so pathetic as to bring a tear into every eye :
" No," said the poor fellow, raising both his hands, and attempt
ing to convey by their movements the gentleness that had been
used, " it was impossible for anything we did to injure or dis
figure her, for we laid her up neatly in sea-weeds, and then
covered her all round softly with the sand, so that nothing
could harm her."
The magistrates of the neighborhood having ascertained
from the report of the fishermen that a dreadful crime had been
committed, set immediate inquiries on foot for the discovery of
the offender. The task could not have devolved upon a more
competent class of men. Whatever other failings may have
been imputed to the Irish country-gentlemen, indifference or
inexpertness in the detection of criminals has not been among
them. Time out of mind, the political and social anomalies
of Ireland have kept that body continually on the alert for the
protection of their lives and properties. To the abstract prin
ciple of public duty and general love of justice, has been super
added the more pressing stimulus of self-preservation. The
consequence is, that their local information in all that can re
late to the discovery of a public offender is singularly accurate
and extensive ; and equally remarkable are their skill and zeal
in putting every resource in play for the attainment of their
object.* The exertions of the magistrates in the present in
stance .fere so successful, that a considerable mass of circum-
* Liberal pecuniary rewards for prosecuting to conviction, are among the
number ; but experience has shovim that in such a country as Ireland, this may
be a very dangerous expedient. A striking instance occurred a few years ago.
A young gentleman, the son of an unpopular English agent, was barbarously
murdered. The reward offered, amounted to some hundreds of pounds. For
some time no evidence was tendered ; at length a boy, about thirteen years of
age, and whose parents were in the most indigent circumstances, presented
himself and stated that he had vritnessed the murder from a concealed position
behind a -hedge, and that he could identify one of the persons engaged in it
by a particular mark on one of his cheeks. From the description, suspicion
lighted upon a particular man, who was accordingly apprehended, and being
shown to the boy, was pronounced by him to be the very person. On the trial,
the boy, the only material witn,gss, gave his evidence so clearly and positively,

A MYSTEEIOUS MUEDEE. 45
stantial evidence was in readiness for the coroner's jury, that
was summoned to inquire into the identity of the deceased and
the cause of her death. The details were voluminous, and I
shall therefore select only the most striking and material.
The most important and ample information was communi
cated by a young woman named Ellen Walsh. A few weeks
before the finding of the remains, this person being at Kilrush,
went down to the river-side in search of a passage across to
Glyn, where she resided in service with a lady. It was then
approaching sunset. Upon arriving at the shore, she found a
small pleasui-e-boat on the point of putting off for Tarbert.
Six persons were in the boat, a Mr. S  , a young woman
who was addressed as Mrs. S  , Stephen Sullivan, Mr.
S  's servant, and three boatmen of the town of Kilrush.
There was also on board a trunk belonging to Mrs. S  .
The only one of the party of whom Ellen Walsh had any pre
vious knowledge was Sullivan, whose native place was Glyn ;
and, upon addressing herself to him for a passage across, she
was permitted to enter the boat. They immediately got under
weigh, expecting to reach Tarbert before dark ; but before
they had proceeded any distance on their way across, they
discovered that this was impracticable. In addition to an ad
verse tide, it came on to blow so hard against them that the
boat made little or no way, so that they were kept out upon
the water the whole of the night. Toward morning a heavy
shower of rain fell, but, the wind having moderated, the rowers
succeeded in reaching a small place below Tarbert, called
CaiTickafoyle. Here the party landed as the day began to
dawn, and, taking the trunk along with them, proceeded to a
small public-house in the village, to dry themselves and ob
tain refreshment. After breakfast, the boatmen, who had
been hired for the single occasion of rowing the boat across
the river, were dismissed and returned toward their homes.
and sustained the ordeal of a cross-examination so successftilly, that the most
incredulous could scarcely question his veracity. The prisoner, however, was
fortunately able to prove an alibi, and escaped. A few months after, the real
criminal, who had a mark on one of his cheeks, was apprehended, tried, and
con-victed upon evidence beyond all imputation.

46 AN lEISH CIECUIT.
The boat, which (it afterward appeared) had been purchased
a few days before by Mr. S  , remained. Shortly after the
departure of the boatmen, Mr. S-;  and Sullivan went out
(they said to search for change of a note), and were absent
about an hour, leaving Mrs. S  and Ellen Walsh together
in the public-house. And here it was that some particulars
observed by the latter, when subsequently recalled to her rec
ollection and disclosed, became of vital moment as matters of
circumstantial evidence.
It has been already stated, that the body found by the
fishermen, was without any covering save a small bodice ; so
that no direct evidence of identity could be established by
ascertaining what particular dress Mrs. S  wore ; but indi
rectly, a knowledge of this fact (as will appear in the sequel),
became of the first importance. Upon this subject Ellen
Walsh was able to give some minute and accurate infor
mation. She had forgotten the color of the gown Mrs. S 
wore when they landed at Carrickafoyle, hut she well remem
bered that she had on a gray cloth mantle lined with light blue
silk, and with welts of a particular fashion in the skirts. She
also wore a pink-colored silk handkerchief round her neck,
and had on her finger two gold rings — one plain, the other
carved. These Ellen Walsh had observed and noted before
Mr. S  and his servant left the public-house ; but during
their absence, Mrs. S  opened the trunk, and, with the
natural vanity of a young female, exhibited for her admiration
several new articles of dress which it contained. Among
other things, there were two trimmed spencers — one of green,
the other of yellow silk ; two thin muslin frocks —one plain,
the other worked ; and a green velvet reticule trimmed with
gold lace.
Upon the return of Mr. S  and Sullivan to the public-
house, the weather having now cleared, they proposed to Mrs.
S  to go on board the boat. Ellen Walsh, understanding
that Tarbert was their destination, desired to accompany
them ; but Sullivan, taking her aside, recommended to her to
remain where she was until the following morning, adding (and
this last obsei-vation was in the hearing of his master), that in

ACCUMULATED EVIDENCE. 47
the meantime " they would get rid of that girl (Mrs. S  ),"
and then return and convey her to Glyn. This Ellen Walsh
declined, and followed the party to the beach, entreating to he
at least put across to the other side of a certain creek there,
which would save her a round of several miles on her way
homeward. At first they would not consent, and put off with
out her ; but seeing her begin to cry, Mr. S  and Sullivan,
after a short consultation, put back the boat, and taking her in,
conveyed her across the creek, and landed her about three
miles below the town of Glyn. They then sailed away in the
direction of the opposite shore, and she proceeded home
ward. Early next morning Ellen Walsh, having occasion to go out
upon some errand, was surprised to see Sullivan standing at
the door of his mother's house in Glyn. She entered the house,
and the first thing she perceived was Mrs. S  's trunk upon
the floor. She asked if Mrs. S  was in Glyn. Sullivan
replied that " she was not; that they had shipped her off with
the captain of an American vessel." Two or three days after,
Ellen Walsh saw upon one of Sullivan's sisters a gray man
tle, whicli she instantly recognised as the one Mrs. S  had
worn at Carrickafoyle. There was a woman at Glyn, named
Grace Scanlon, with whom Mr. S  , when he went there,
was in the habit of lodging. In this person's house Ellen
Walsh some time after saw the silk handkerchief, one of the
spencers, and the two muslin frocks which Mrs. S  had
shown her at Carrickafoyle. (These, it appeared from other
evidence, had been sold to Grace Scanlon by Sullivan, who
accounted to her for their coming into his possession, by stating
that Mrs. S  had run away from Kilrush with an officer, and
left her trunk of clothes behind her.) Finally, about a fort
night after the disappearance of Mrs. S  , Ellen Walsh,
going one evening into Grace Scanlon's house, found Mr.
S  and Sullivan sitting there. The former had on one
of his fingers a gold carved ring, precisely resembling that
worn by Mrs. S  . They both were under the influence of
liquor, and talked much and loud. Among other things, Sul
livan asked his master for some money ; and on being refused.

48 AN IRISH CIECUIT.
observed emphatically, " Mr. John, you know I have as goodi.
a right to that money as you have."
Such were, in substance, the most material facts (excepting
one particular hereafter mentioned), that had fallen under
Ellen Walsh's observation ; and, upon the magistrates being
appi-ized that she had such evidence to give, she was summon
ed as a witness upon the inquest. She accordingly attended,
and accompanied the coroner's jury to the place where the
remains had been deposited by the fishermen. The circum
stances she detailed were pregnant with suspicion against Mr.
S  and his servant. A young and defenceless female had
disappeared. Upon the last occasion of her having been
seen, she was in their company, in an open boat on the river
Shannon. A declaration had been made by the servant,
" that she was to be got rid of." On the very next day her
trunk of clothes is seen in their possession, and, soon after, a
part of the dress she wore in the boat on the servant's sister,
and one of her rings on the master's finger ; add to this the
mysterious allusion to the money — "Mr. John, you know I
have as good a right to that money as you have." A few
weeks after, a body is washed ashore, near to the place where
this young woman had been last seen — the body of a young
female, who had manifestly been stripped, and murdered, and
flung into the river, and exhibiting symptoms of decay (ac
cording to the report of the fishermen), that exactly tallied
with the time of her suspected death.
On the other hand, there were some circumstances in the case,
as detailed by Ellen Walsh, which justified the magistrates in
considering that a jury should pause before they pronounced
her evidence to be conclusive. Of Sullivan they had no knowl
edge ; but his master they knew to be a young gentleman of
some territorial property, of respectable parentage, and nearly
allied by blood with more than one of the noble families of
Ireland. This naturally compelled them to entertain some
doubts. Then upon the supposition that he and his servant
had concerted the murder of the young woman Ellen Walsh
had seen with them, what could have been more clumsy and
incautious than their previous and subsequent conduct 1 The

CONFLICTING TESTIMONY. 49
inference from her story of the transaction was, that the time
and manner of executing their deadlj'^ purpose were finally de
termined upon during their absence from the public-house at
Carrickafoyle. Yet the first thing they do upon their return is
to inform her, without any kind of necessity for the communi
cation, " that they want to get rid of that girl" — a declaration
consistent enough with their subsequent account of her disap
pearance, hut almost incredible if considered as a gratuitous
disclosure by persons meditating the perpetration of an atro
cious crime. They next permit the sanie person (as if deter
mined that she should be a future witness against them) to see
them bearing away their victim to the very scene of execution ;
and, finally, they appear the next day in the town of Glyn,
and publicly exhibit themselves and the evidences of their
crime to the very person from whose scrutiny and observation,
upon the supposition of their guilt, they must have known they
had so much to apprehend !
These conflicting views did not escape the attention of the
magistrates who had undertaken the investigation of this affair.
They saw that the case would continue involved in mystery,
unless it could be unequivocally made to appear that the young
woman seen by Ellen Walsh and the murdered person were
the same. For this purpose, before they allowed the body to
he disinterred for the inspection of the jury, they used the pre
caution of re-interrogating Ellen Walsh, as to every the minu
test particular she could recall respecting the personal appear
ance of Mrs. S  . The witness stated she was extremely
young, not more, she imagined, than fifteen or sixteen, and
that her figure was short and slight. So far her description
corresponded with that of the fishermen, who were also in at
tendance ; but this would have been too feeble and general
evidence of identity for a court of criminal inquiry to act upon
with safety. The witness farther stated that Mrs. S  was
remarkably handsome, and gave the coroner's jury a minute
description of her face ; but no comparison of feature could
now he availing. In the remains over which the investigation
was holding, every natural lineament of the countenance must
long since have been utterly effaced by death, and by the
Vol. I.— 3

60 AN lEISH CIECUIT.
equally disfiguring operation of the element to which they had
been exposed. At length, however, the witness distinctly re
called to her recollection one peculiarity about Mrs. S  's
face, which, if she and the deceased were the same, might still
be visible. The teeth were not perfectly regular. Two of ihe
-upper row (one at each side) projected considerably. This im
portant clew having been obtained, the remains were disinter
red, and found in the condition which the fishermen had de
scribed. The mouth was of course the first and chief object
of minute inspection. The teeth of the upper jaw had all
dropped out ; but upon a careful examination of the sockets, two
of the side ones w^ere found to be of such a particular formation as
satisfied the jury that the teeth belonging to them must of ne
cessity have projected as the witness represented. Upon this
fact, coupled with the other particulars of her testimony, they
returned a verdict, finding that the deceased had been wilfully
murdered by John S  and Stephen Sullivan. Warrants
were immediately issued for the apprehension of the parties ac
cused, neither of whom (and this was not an immaterial circum
stance) had been seen in public since the finding of the remains
on the shore; The servant succeeded in concealing himself.
The master was traced to a particular farmhouse in the county
of Limerick, and followed thither by the officers of justice,
accompanied by a party of dragoons. They searched the
place ineffectually, and were retiring as from a fruitless pur
suit, when one of the dragoons, as he was riding away, stuck
his sabre, more in sport than otherwise, into a heap of straw
that lay near the house. The sword met with no resistance,
and the dragoon had already passed on, when a figure burst from
beneath the straw and called out for mercy. It was Mr. S  .
From some passages in the statement of Ellen Walsh, it was
sufficiently obvious that the deceased could not have been the
wife of Mr. S  , and who she had been, remained to be dis
covered. Before the lapse of many days, this point was ascer
tained. There was au humble man named John Conroy, who
had followed the trade of a shoemaker in one of the small
towns of the county of Limerick. This person had humanely
protected an orphan niece (named Ellen Hanlon), and brought

THE TEIAL OF SCANLAN. 51
her up from her infancy in his house as one of his own chil
dren, till she attained her sixteenth year. She was uncom
monly handsome, and, as he imagined, equally modest and
trustworthy. Her uncle, who it appeared was an honest, in
dustrious man, was in the habit of obtaining credit to a con
siderable amount for articles in the way of his trade from the
wholesale dealers in Cork, which he regularly visited once a
year for the purpose of discharging his engagements for the
preceding, and obtaining a fresh supply for the ensuing year.
A few weeks before the circumstances above detailed, Conroy
was about to proceed to Cork according to his annual custom.
He had then in his house one hundred pounds in notes, and
twelve guineas in gold. On the Sunday preceding his intend
ed departure, while he was at mass, Ellen Hanlon disappeared,
and along with her the whole of his money. He never heard
of her after, neither had he any knowledge of Mr. S  , but,
from the description given of the young woman who had been
with him on the Shannon, and more particularly from the coinci
dence of the peculiarity about the teeth, he was assured that
his niece must have been the person, and was accordingly
produced as a witness for the crown upon Mr. S  's trial.
The disclosure of these new facts, though it might have dimin
ished in some degree the public sympathy for the fate of the
victim, had a proportionate effect in aggravating every senti
ment of horror against the prisoner, by superadding the crimes
of seduction and robbery to murder.
The trial came on at the ensuing assizes for the county of
Limerick. A clear case of circumstantial evidence, consisting
mainly of the foregoing facts, was made out against the pris
oner, who had nothing, save the ingenuity of his counsel, to
offer in his defence. When the issue was handed up to the
jury, it was supposed that they would return a verdict of con
viction without leaving the box ; but, contrary to expectation,
they retired, and continued long engaged in consultation. The
populace, who watched the proceedings with extraordinary
interest, murmured at the delay. This was by no means a
usual or characteristic sentiment; hut at this particular period,
and in this particular county, the minds of the lower orders

52 AN IRISH CIECUIT.
were already in rapid progress toward that point of political
excitation, which soon after exploded in a formidable insurrec
tion. Agaii-ist the culprit or the crime they might have felt in
the abstract no peculiar indignation ; but he was a protestant
and a gentleman, and they naturally contrasted the present
hesitation to convict with the promptitude that, as they con
sidered, would have been manifested had such evidence been
adduced against any one of them. At length, late in the
evening, a verdict of guilty was found. Sentence of death was
pronounced, and the prisoner ordered for execution on the next
day but one succeeding his conviction.
Some very unusual incidents followed. Before the judge
left the bench, he received an application, sanctioned by some
names of consideration in the county, and praying that he
would transmit to the viceroy a memorial in the prisoner's
favor. The judge, feeling the case to be one where the law
should sternly take its course, refused to interfere. He was
then solicited to permit the sentence to be at least respited to
such a time as would enable those interested in the prisoner's
behalf to ascertain the result of such an application from them
selves. To this request the same answer was, for the same
reasons, returned. There being, however, still time, if expedi
tion were used, to make the experiment, a memorial, the pre
cise terms of which did not publicly transpire, was that even
ing despatched by a special messenger to the seat of govern
ment. This proceeding was the subject of much and varied
commentary. By some it was attributed to the prisoner's prot
estations of innocence — for he vehemently protested his inno
cence ; by others to particular views and feelings, in which
politics predominated ; by the majority (and this conjecture
appears to have been the true one), to an anxiety to avert, if
possible, from the families of rank and influence with which
the culprit was allied, the stigma of an ignominious execution.
The hour beyond which the law had said that this guilty
young man should not be permitted to exist, was now at hand,
and the special messenger had not returned. Yet, so confident
were the prisoner's friends that tidings of mercy were on the
way, that the sheriff humanely consented to connive at every

DYING GAME. 53
possible procrastination of the dreadful ceremony. He had
already lived for more than two hours beyond his appointed
time, when an answer from the castle of Dublin arrived. Its
purport was, to bid him prepare for instant death. I have
heard from a gentleman who visited his cell a few minutes
after this final intimation, that his composure was astonishing.
His sole anxiety seemed to be, to show that he could die with
firmness. An empty vial was lying in the cell — " You have
been taking laudanum, I perceive, sir," said the gentleman.
'' I have," he replied, " but not with the object that you sus
pect. The dose was not strong enough for that — I merely
took as much as would steady my nerves." He asserted his
innocence of all participation in the murder of Ellen Hanlon,
and declared that, if ever Sullivan should be brought to trial,
the injustice of the present sentence would appear.
The friends of the prisoner were, for niany and obvious
reasons, desirous that he should be conveyed in a close car
riage to the place of execution. Expecting a reprieve, they
had neglected to provide one, and they now found it impossible
to hire such a conveyance. Large sums were offered at the
different places where chaises and horses were to be let ; but
the popular prejudice prevailed.* At last an old carriage was
found exposed Iro sale, and purchased. Horses were still to be
* It is considered in Ireland, that whoever lends or hires cattle or convey
ance at an execution participates in the abhorred vocation of the hangman.
Before the " drop" was invented, the condemned was usually conveyed to the
gallows in a cart, sitting on his coffin — unless it were part of his punishment
that " his body be handed over to the surgeons for dissection." The finisher
of the law, having adjusted the fatal rope on " the horse that was foaled of an
acorn" (see Ainsworth's Jack Sheppard), and round the neck of the doomed
man, whom he placed standing in the cart, used to descend on terra firma, take
hold of the horse's head, draw away the cart, and thus give the death-fall to
his -victim. If any other person led the horse away, the disgrace of having
virtually acted as executioner would cling to him through life. As I am on
the subject, I may add that "Jack Ketch" is a nom-de-corde used only in
England. The Irish nick-name, no matter what the true appellation, is
" Canty the hangman," and the miserable wretch is compelled, out of regard
for his personal safety, to reside in prison. If recognised out of doors, his life
would not be worth half-an-hour's purchase, so great is the popular detestation
of his trade of legal murder. — M.

54 AN lEISH CIECUIT.
provided, when two turf-carts, belonging to tenants of the pris
oner, appeared moving into the town. The horses were taken
from under the carts, and harnessed to the carriage. To this
the owners made no resistance ; but no threats or entreaties
could induce either of them to undertake the office of driver.
After a further delay occasioned by this difficulty, a needy
wretch among the by standers was tempted by the offer of a
guinea to take the reins and brave the ridicule of the mob;
The prisoner, accompanied by the jailer and clergyman, was
put into the carriage, and the procession began to advance.
At the distance of a few hundred yards from the jail, a bridge
was to be passed. The horses, which had shown no signs of
restiffness before, no sooner reached the foot of the bridge
than they came to a full stop. Beating, coaxing, cursing — all
were unavailing ; not an inch beyond that spot could they be
made to advance. The contest between them and the driver
terminated in one of the horses deliberately lying down amid
the cheers of the mob. To their excited apprehensions, this
act of the animal had a superstitious import. It evinced a
preternatural abhorrence of the crime of murder — a miraculous
instinct in detecting guilt, which a jury of Irish gentlemen had
taken hours to pronounce upon.
Every effort to get the carriage forward haviug failed, the
prisoner was removed from it, and conducted on foot to the
place of execution. It was a solemn and melancholy sight as
he slowly moved along the main street of a crowded city, en
vironed by military, unpitied by the populace, and gazed at
with shuddering curiosity from every window. For a while
the operation of the laudanum he had drunk was manifest.
There was a drowsy stupor in his eye as he cast it insensibly
around him. Instead of moving continuously forward, every
step he made in advance seemed a distinct and laborious effort.
Without the assistance of the jailer and clergyman who sup
ported him between them, he must, to all appearance, have
dropped on the pavement. These eflects, however, gradually
subsided, aud before he arrived at the place of execution his
frame had resumed its wonted firmness. The conduct of the
prisoner in his last moments had nothing remarkable ; yet it

VALUE OF DYING DKCLAE.^TIONS. 55
suggests a few remarks, and furnishes a striking illustration
upon a subject of some interest as connected with the adminis
tration of justice in Ireland.
In that country an extraordinary importance is attached to
dying declarations. In cases exciting any unusual interest, no
sooner is a convicted person handed over to the executioner,
than he is beset on all sides with entreaties to make what is
called a last satisfaction to justice and to the public mind, by
an open confession of his guilt. As between the convict and
the law, such a proceeding is utterly nugatory. If he denies
his guilt, he is not believed; if he admits it, he only admits
a fact so conclusively established, as to every practical pur
pose, that any supplemental corroboration is superfluous. If
the verdict of a jury required the sanction of a confession, no
sentence could be justifiably executed in any case where that
sanction was withheld. But this could not be. In submitting
the question of guilt or innocence to the process of a public
trial, we apply the most efficacious method that our laws have
been able to devise for the discovery of the truth. The result,
. like that of all other questions depending upon human testi-
monj^, may be erroneous. The condemned may be a martyr ;
for juries are fallible : but, 'for the purposes of society, their
verdict must be final, except upon those rare occasions where
its propriety is subsequently brought into doubt by new evi
dence, emanating from a less questionable source than that of
the party most interested in arraigning it.
Then, as far as regards the satisfaction of the public mind
with the justice of the conviction (for upon this great stress is
also laid), the public should never be encouraged to require a
higher degree of certainty than the law requires. But the
practice of harassing convicts for a confession before the
crowds assembled to witness their execution, produces this
effect. — It teaches them to divert their attention from the best
and only practical test of a question that should no longer be
at issue, and to set a value upon a test the most deceptive
that can be imagined.- A voluntary admission of guilt may,
to be sure, be depended on ; but, after conviction, no kind of
reliance can be placed upon the most solemn asseverations to

56 AN lEISH CIRCUIT.
the contrary. Death and eternity are dreadful things ; and it
is dreadful to think of wretches determined to brave them with
a deliberate falsehood upon their lips ; yet there are men —
many — that have the nerve to do this. In Ireland it is of
frequent occurrence ; particularly in cases of conviction for
political offences, and, more or less, in all others. A regard
for posthumous reputation — the false glory of being remem
bered as a martyr — a stubborn determination to make no
concession to a system of laws that he never respected — con
cern for the feelings and character of relatives, by whom a
dying protestation of innocence is cherished, and appealed
to as a bequest to the honor of a family -name : these and
similar motives attend the departing culprit to the final scene,
and prevail to the last over every suggestion of trath and
religion. It was so in the case I am now narrating. At the
place of execution, the prisoner was solemnly adjured by the
clergyman in attendance to admit the justice of his sentence :
he as solemnly re-asserted his innocence. The cap was drawn
over his eyes, and he was about to be thrown off. An acci
dental interruption occurred. The clergyman raised the cap,
and once more appealed to him as to a person upon whom the
world had already closed. The answer was: "I am suffer
ing for a crime in which I never participated. If Sullivan is
ever found, my innocence will appear."
Sullivan was found before the next assizes, when he was tried
and convicted upon the same evidence adduced against his
master. Sullivan was a catholic ; and after his conviction
made a voluntary and full confession. It put the master's
guilt beyond all question. The wretched girl, according to
his statement, had insisted upon retaining in her own hands
one half of the sum of -ivhich she had robbed her uncle. To
obtain this, and also to disembarrass himself of an incum
brance, her seducer planned her death. Sullivan undertook
to be the executioner. After setting Ellen Walsh on shore,
they returned to an unfrequented point near Carrickafoyle,
where the instrument of murder, a musket, and a rope, lay
concealed. With these and the unsuspecting victim, Sullivan
put out in the boat. The master remained upon the strand.

A POPULAK BELIEF. 57
After the interval of an hour, the boat returned, bearing back
Ellen Hanlon unharmed. " I thought I had made up my
mind," said the ruffian in his penitential declaration; "I
was just lifting the musket to dash her brains out — hut when
I looked in her innocent face^ I had not the heart to do it" This
excuse made no impression upon the mer<jiless master. Sul
livan was plied with liquor, and again despatched upon the
murderous mission; the musket was once more raised, and —
the rest has been told.*
* It may be mentioned as a striking instance of the belief in the declaration
(made by no less a person than Lord Redesdale, who had been Irish lord-
chancellor), " in Ireland there is one law for the rich, and another for the
poor," that there are yet hundreds in the county of Limerick, who were present
at this execution, and seriously believed that it was not Mr. Scanlan who was
hanged, but some other prisoner who was rendered unconscious by means of
strong narcotics. It was currently reported that, because he was a gentleman,
Scanlan was aUowed to escape to the United States, where he eventually came
to a violent death ! It is notorious that after the public execution of Fauntle-
roy, the London banker, for forgery, a motion for delay, in some case where
a large amount of property was involved, was actually made in one of the law-
courts at Westminster, grounded in an affidavit that Fauntleroy was alive in
America, and that a commission should be sent over to take his examination
as a witness. The motion was refused, as the fact of his continued existence
was not positively sworn to, but it is surprising that the lawyer who made, and
the judge who heard the motion, should have forgotten the plain and undoubted
fact, that having been capitally condemned, Fauntleroy was dead in Imo, and,
his evidence, therefore, quite valueless. — M.
3*

HALL OF THE POUE COUETS, DUBLIN.
The law, and the practice of the courts, in Ireland, are, with
some trivial exceptions, precisely the same as in England ;*
but the system of professional life in Ireland is in some respects
different. I allude to the custom, which the Irish bar have
long since adopted, of assembling daily for the transaction of
business, or in search of it, if tbey have it not, in the " Hall
of the Four Courts," Dublin. The building itself is a splendid
one. Like the other public edifices of Dublin (and I might
add, the private ones), it is an effort of Irish pride, exceeding
far in magnificence the substantial wealth and civilization of
the country. In the centre of the interior, and overcanopied
by a lofty dome, is a spacious circular hall, into which the sev
eral courts of justice open.
¦ I was fond of lounging in this place. From the hours of
twelve to three it is a busy and a motley scene. When I
speak of it as the place of daily resort for the members of the
legal profession and their clients, I may be understood to mean
that it is the general rendezvous of the whole community ; for
in Ireland almost every man of any pretensions that you meet,
is either a plaintiff or defendant, or on the point of becoming
so, and, when in Dublin, seldom fails to repair at least once a
day to " the Hall," in order to look after his cause, and, by
conferences with his lawyers, to keep up his mind to the true
* There are no regular reports of the Lish cases. All the new authorities
are imported from England ; so that the accident of a fair or foul wind may
sometimes affect the decision of a cause. "Are you sure, Mr. Plunket," said
Lurd M-jnners, one day, " that what you have stated is the law ?" — " It unques-
tiunahly was the Liw half an hour ago," rephed Mr. P. pulling out his watch,
" but ly this time the paclvet has probably arrived, and I shall not be positive."

HUBBUB m THE COUETS. 59
litigating temperature. It is here, too, that the political idlers
of the town resort, to drop or pick up the rumors of the day.
There is also a plentiful admixture of the lower orders, among
whom it is not difficult to distinguish the country-litigant.
Tou know him by his mantle of frieze, his two boots and one
spur ; by the tattered lease, fit emblem of his tenement, which
he unfolds as cautiously as Sir Humphrey Davy would a man
uscript of Herculaneum ; and, best of all, by his rueful visage,
in which j^ou can clearly read that some clause in the last
ejectment-act lies heavy on his heart.
These form the principal materials of the scene ; but it is not
so easy to enumerate the manifold and ever-shifting combina
tions into which they are diversified. The rapid succession
of so many objects, passing and repassing eternally before you,
perplexes and quickly exhausts the eye. It fares still worse
with the ear. The din is tremendous. Besides the tumult of
some thousand voices in ardent discussion, and the most of
them raised to the declamatory pitch, you have ever and anon
the stentorian cries of the tipstaffs, bawling out, " The gentle
men of the special jury to the box !" or the still more thrilling
vociferations of attorneys or attorneys' clerks, hallooing to a
particular counsel that " their case is called on, and all is lost if
he delays an instant !" Whereupon the counsel, catching up
the sound of his name, wafted through the hubbub, breaks pre
cipitately from the circle that engages him, and bustles through
the throng, escorted, if he be of any eminence, by a posse of
applicants, each claiming to monopolize him, until he reaches
the entrance of the court, and, plunging in, escapes for that
time from their importunate solicitations.
The bustle among the members of the bar is greatly in
creased by the circumstance of all them, with very few excep
tions, practising in all the courts.* Hence at every moment
* The custom that prevails in Ireland, of counsel dividing themselves among
the several courts, produces, particularly in important cases, an inconvenience
sipiilar to one that Cicero complains of as peculiar to the Eoman forum in his
day — the multiplicity of advocates retained upon each trial, and the absence
of some of them during parts of the proceedings upon which they have ailei^
ward to comment.

60 HALL OF THE FOUE COUETS, DUBLIN.
you see the most eminent darting across the hall, flushed and
palpitating from the recent conflict, and, no breathing-time al
lowed them, advancing with rapid strides and looks of fierce
intent, to fling themselves again into the thick of another fight.
It daily happens tbat two cases are to be heard in different
courts, and in which the same barrister is the client's main
support, are called on at the same hour. On such occasions it
is amusing to witness the contest between the respective attor
neys to secure their champion.
Mr. O'Connell, for instance, who is high in every branch of
his profession, and peculiarly in request for what is termed
" battling a motion," is perpetually to be seen, a conspicuous
figure in this scene of clamor and commotion, balancing be
tween two equally pressing calls upon him, and deploring his
want of ubiquity. The first time he was pointed out to me,
he was in one of these predicaments, suspended like Garrick
in the picture between conflicting solicitations. On the one
side an able-bodied, boisterous catholic attorney, from the
county of Kerry, had laid his athletic gripe upon " the coun
sellor," and swearing by some favorite saint, was fairly hauling
him along in the direction of the Exchequer; on the other side
a more polished town-practitioner, of the established faith,
pointed with pathetic look and gesture to the Common Pleas,
and in tones of agony implored the learned gentleman to re
member that " their case was actually on, and that if he were
not at his post, the court would grant the motion, costs and all,
against their client." On such occasions a counsel has a deli
cate task ; but long habit enables him to assume a neutrality,
if he has it not. In the instance alluded to, I could not suffi
ciently admire the intense impartiality manifested by the sub
ject of contention toward each of the competitors for his learned
carcass ; but the physical force of the man from Kerry, aided
perhaps by some local associations — for the counsellor is a
" Kerry -man" himself — prevailed over all the moral wooing
of his rival, and he carried off the prize.
The preceding are a few of the constant and ever-acting
elements of noise and motion in this busy scene ; but an extra
sensation is often given to the congregated mass. The detect

LKGAL PEE80NAGKS. 61
tion of a pickpocket (I am not speaking figuratively) causes a
sudden and impetuous rush of heads, with wigs and without
them, to the spot where the culprit has been caught in flagrante.
At other times the scene is diversified by a group of fine girls
from the country, coming, as they all make a point of doing, to
see the courts, and show themselves to the junior bar. A
crowd of young and learned gallants instantaneously collects,
and follows in their wake : even the arid veteran will start
from his legal revery as they pass aiong, or, discontinuing the
perusal of his deeds and counterparts, betray by a faint leer
that, with all his love of parchment, a fine skin, glowing with
the tints that life and nature gave it, has yet a more pre
vailing charm. Lastly, I must not omit that the Hall is not
unfrequently thrown into " confusion worse confounded" by that
particular breach of his majesty's Irish peace, improperly
called a " horsewhipping." When an insult is to be avenged,
this place is often chosen for its publicity as the fittest scene
of castigation.
But this scene, though at first view the emblem of inextrica
ble confusion, will yet, when frequently contemplated, assume
certain forms approaching to regular combination : thus, after
an attendance of a few days, if you perambulate the arena, or
stand upon some elevated point from which you can take in
the whole, you will recognise, especially among the members
of the bar, the same individuals, or classes, occupied or grouped
in something like an habitual manner. On the steps outside
the entrance to the Court of Chancery, your eye will probably
be caught by the imposing figure and the courteous and manly
features of Bushe,* waiting there till his turn comes to refute some
long -winded argument going on within, and to which, as a piece
of forensic finesse, he affects a disdain to listen : or, near the
same spot, you will light upon the less social but more pregnant
and meditative countenance of Plunket,t as he paces to and
fro alone, resolving some matter of imperial moment, until he
is roused from these more congenial musings, and hurries on to
court, at the call of the shrill-tongued crier, to simplify or em-
* Charles Kendal Bushe, afterward lord chief-justice of Ireland. — M.
t Now Lord Plunket, ex-lord chancellor of Ireland. — M.

62 HALL OF THK FOUE COUETS,
barrass some question of equitable altercation : or, if it be a
nisi-prius day in any of the law-courts, you may observe out
side, the delight of Dublin jurors, Mr. H. D. Grady, working
himself into a jovial humor against the coming statement, and
with all the precaution of an experienced combatant, squibbing
his "jury-eye," lest it should miss fire when he appears upon
the ground.
Or, to pass from individuals to groups, you will daily find,
and pretty nearly upon the same spot, the same little circles
or coteries, composed chiefly of the members of the junior bar,
as politics, or community of tastes, or family connections, may
bring them together. Among these you will readily distin
guish those who by birth or expectations consider themselves
to be identified with the aristocracy of the country : you see it
in their more fashionable attire and attitudes, their joyous and
unworn countenances, and in the lighter topics of discussion
on which they can afford to indulge. At a little distance stands
a group of quite another stamp — pallid, keen-eyed, anxious
aspirants for professional employment, and generally to be
found in vehement debate over some dark and dreary point of
statute or common law, in the hope that, by violently rubbing
their opinions together, a light may be struck at last. A little
farther on you will come upon another, a group of learned veto-
ists and anti-vetoists, where some youthful or veteran theolo
gian is descanting upon the abominations of a schism, with a
running accompaniment of original remarks upon the politics
of the Vatican, and the character of Cardinal Gonsalvi. Close
to these again — but I find that I should never have done, were
I to attempt comprising within a single view the endless and
complicated details of this panoramic spectacle, or to specify
the proportions in which the several subjects discussed here
respectively contribute to form the loud and ceaseless buzz that
rises and reverberates through the roof.
This daily assemblage of the Irish Bar, in a particular spot,
enables you to estimate at a glance the extraordinary numbers
of that body, and to perceive what an enormous excess they
bear to the professional occupation which the country can by
possibility afford. After all the Courts are filled to the brim,

HOPB DEFEEEED. 63
there still remains a legal population to occupy the vast arena
without. I -n-as particularly struck by the number of young
men (many of them, I was as'sured, possessed of fine talents,
-which, if differently applied, must have forced their way) who
from term to term, and year to year, submit to " trudge the
Hall," waiting till their turn shall come at last, and too often
harassed by forebodings that it may never come. It was not
difficult to read their history in their looks : their countenances
wore a sickly, pallid, and jaded expression ;* the symbols of
hope deferred, if not extinguished ; there was even something,
as they sauntered to and fro, in their languid gait and unde
cided movements, from which it could be inferred that their
sensations were melancholy and irksome. I was for some time
at a loss to account for this extreme disproportion between the
supply and the demand — so much greater than any ever
known to exist in England.
During my stay in Dublin, I accidentally fell into conver
sation with an intelligent Irish gentleman, who in the early
part of his life had been connected for some years -with the
-* I have heard several medical men of Dublin speak of the air of the courts
and hall, as particularly unwholesome. Besides the impurity communicated
to the atmosphere by the crowds that collect there, the situation is low and
marshy. The building is so close to the river Liffey, that fears have been en
tertained for the safety of the foundation. Formerly, before the present quay
was constructed, the water in high tides sometimes made its way into the hall.
The mention of this reminds me of one or two of Curran's jokes : — upon one
occasion, not only the hall, but the subterraneous cellars in which the bar-dresses
are kept, were inundated. "When the counsel went down to robe, they found
their vrigs and gown afloat ; Cui-ran, for whom a cause was waiting seized the
first that drifted vrithin reach, and appeared in court, dripping hke a river-god.
" Well, Mr. Curtan," asked one of the judges, " how did you leave your friends
coming on below ?" — " S-wimmingly, my lord." In the com-se of the morning,
one of these learned friends (who, from missing his footing, had come in for a
thorough sousing) repeatedly protested to their lordships, that he should feel
ashamed to offer such and such arguments to the court. Curran, in reply, com
plimented him upon his delicacy of feehng, which he represented as " ti-uly a
high and rare strain of modesty, in one who had just been dipped in the Liffey."
[As an Irishman who has that faciUty of speech and comphment called " the
gift of the gab," is usually mentioned as having Idssed tlie Blarney-stone; so if
a native be particularly impudent (which is impossible, of course !) it is said
that he has been (dipped i» ijeiejejr— the riverwhich runs through Dublin.— M.

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

THE T<irNG EARSISTEK. 65
ignorance of the peculiar habits and talents required to obtain
it. It is a common by-word with us, that ' no one who really
deserves to succeed at our bar, will fail.' This may be very
true ; but what a complication of qualities, what a course of
privation, what trials of taste, and temper, and pride, are in
volved in that familiar and ill-understood assertion.
" A young barrister who looks to eminence from his own
sheer unaided merits, must have a mind and frame prepared
by nature for the endurance of unremitting toil. He must
cram his memory with the arbitrary principles of a complex
and incongruous code, and be equally prepared, as occasion
serves, to apply or misapply them. He must not only surpass
his competitors in the art of reasoning right from right prin
ciples — the logic of common life; but he must be equally an
adept in reasoning right from wrong principles, and wrong
from right ones. He must learn to glory in a perplexing
sophistry, as in the discovery of an immortal truth. He must
make up his mind and his face to demonstrate, in open court,
with all imaginable gravity, that nonsense is replete with
meaning, and that the clearest meaning is manifestly non
sense by construction. This is what is meant by 'legal habits
of thinking ;' and to acquire them, he must not only prepare
his faculties by a course of assiduous and direct cultivation,
but he must absolutely forswear all other studies and specula
tions that may interfere with their perfection. There must be
no dallying with literature ; no hankering after comprehensive
theories for the good of men ; away must be wiped all such
'trivial fond records.' He must keep to his digests and in
dexes. He must see nothing in mankind but a great collec
tion of plaintiffs and defendants, and consider no revolution in
their affairs as comparable, in interest, to the last term reports
of points of practice decided in banco regis. As he walks the
streets, he must give way to no sentimental musings. There
must be no ' commercing with the skies;' no idle dreams of
love, and rainbows, and poetic forms, and all the bright illu
sions upon which the 'fancy free' can feast. If a thought of
love intrudes, it must be connected with the law of marriage
settlements, and articles of separation from bed and board. So

66 HALL OF THE FOUE COUETS, DUBLIN.
of the other passions ; and of every the most interesting inci
dent and situation in human life — he must view them all with
reference to their ' legal effect and operation.' If a funeral
passes by, instead of permitting his imagination to follow the
mourners to the grave, he must consider how far the execu
tor may not have made himself liable for a waste of assets, by
some supernumerary plumes and hatbands, beyond 'the state
and circumstances of the deceased ;' — or if his eye should
light upon arequisition for a public meeting, to petition against
a grievance, he must regard the gi-ievance as immaterial, but
bethink himself whether the wording of the requisition be
strictly warrantable, under the provisions of the Convention
Act. " Such is a part, and a very small part, of the probationary
discipline to which the young candidate for forensic eminence
must be prepared to submit ; and if he can hold out for ten or
fifteen years, his superior claims may begin to be known and
rewarded. But success will bring no diminution of toil and
self-denial. The bodily and mental labor alone of a success
ful barrister's life would be sufficient, if known beforehand, to
appal the stoutest. Besides this, it has its many peculiar ruhs
and annoyances. His life is passed in a tumult of perpetual
contention, and he must make up his sensibility to give and
receive the hardest knocks. He has no choice of cases ; he
must throw himself heart and soul into the most unpromising
that is confided to him. He must fight pitched battles with ob
streperous witnesses. He must have lungs to ontclamor the
most clamorous. He must make speeches without materials.
He must keep battering for hours at a jury that he sees to be
impregnable. He is before the public, and at the mercy of
public opinion, and if every nerve be not strained to the utmost
to achieve what is impossible, the public, with its usual good
nature, will attribute the failure to want of zeal or capacity in
the advocate — to anything rather' than the badness of the
cause. Finally, he must appear to be sanguine, even after a
defeat ; and be prepared to tell a knavLsh client, that has been
beaten out of the courts of common law, that his 'is a clear
case for relief in equity.' The man who can do all this de-

LEGAL OFFICE-SEEKEES. 67
serves to succeed, and will succeed; but unless he be gifted
with the rare qualifications of such men as Curran,* Bushe, and
Plunket, or be lifted by those fortuitous aids upon which few
have a right to count, he can not rationally expect to arrive at
eminence in his profession upon less rigorous conditions.
" Hitherto," continued my informant, '' I have been speaking
of such as com^ to the bar as simply and solely to a scene of
professional exertion ; but there is another and a still more
numerous class, who are sent to it for the sake of the lucrative
offices with which it abounds. It was no sooner discovered
that our bar was uninfluential, and likely, on occasions, to be
a troublesome body in the state, than the most decisive meas
ures were taken to break its spirit. Places were multiplied
beyond all necessity and all precedent in England. By a
single act of Parliament, two and thirty judicial offices were
created, to be held by barristers of six years' standing, and
averaging each from five to eight hundred pounds a year.
This was one of the political measures of the late Lord Clare,t
* John Philpot Curran, formerly master of the rolls in IrelEind (born in 1750,
and died in 1817), memorable alike for genius and geniality — eloquence and
patriotism — wit and pathos. His forensic exertions in defence of the victims
of arbitrary power, during the closing years of the last century, were alike fear
less, independent, and chivalrous. — M.
+ John Fitzgibbon, Earl of Clare, who is described by Barrington as a " des
pot and the greatest enemy Ireland ever had," was the son of a gentleman
in the county of Limerick, who had been a Eoman catholic, and intended for
a priest, but changed his tenets, became an eminent barrister and member of
Parliaraent. It is untrue, as reported, that Fitzgibbon was originally poor and
of low birth ; one of his sisters married Mr. Jeffreys, the rich owner of Blarney
Castle, and is immortalized in song as
"  Lady Jeffreys who o-wns this station.
Like Alexander or like Helen fair.
There's no commander throughout the nation.
In emulation can with her compare,"
and the other espoused Beresford, Archbishop of Tuam. Bom in 1749. John
Fitzgibbon entered Trinity college, Dublin, in 1763, where he was in the same
division with Henry Grattan, with whom he competed for collegiate honors,
many of which he obtained. It is not generally known that, after obtaining his
B. A. degree, he was a member of Christ Church, Oxford, having been admit
ted ad. eu-ndem, and became M. A. of the English university, in 1770. Admitted
barrister, in Dublin, he speedily obtained extensive practice. His fee-book

68 HALL OF THE FOUE COURTS, DUBLIN.
an able lawyer, and excellent private character; but, like
many other sound lawyers and worthy gentlemen, a most
mischievous statesman. He had felt in his own experience
how far the receipt of the public money may extinguish a sen
sibility to public abuses. And he planned and passed the
bar-bill. The same policy has been continued to the present
day. The profession teems with places of emolument; and
the consequence is, that every subdivision of the 'parliamen
tary interest' deputes its representative, to get forward in the
ordinary way, as talents or chance may favor him, but at all
events to receive, in due time, his distributive portion of the
general patronage.
" I must add, as highly to the credit of the Irish bar, that
their personal independence, in the discharge of their profes
sional duties, has continued as it used to be in the best days
of their country. The remark applies to the general spirit of
showed that from June 19, 1772, when he commenced practice, until Decem
ber, 1789, he received forty-five thousand nine hundred and twelve pounds
sterling, from his profession. Li 1782 his income was six thousand, seven hun
dred and two pounds sterling. In 1784, he was appointed Attorney-General,
owing his elevation as much to his political support of the Government, as
member of Parliament, as to his legal mei-it. On the death of Lord Chancel
lor Lifford, in 1789, Mr. Fitzgibbon was appointed his successor (not without vio
lent opposition from Thurlow, Chancellor of England, who contended that his
Irish birth should prevent his holding the highest law-office in L-eland), and
from that time until his death, in January, 1802, was -virtually ruler of Ire
land — intolerant, harsh, and unforgiving. In the earlier part of his career,
having fought a duel with Mr. Curran (at whom he took deliberate aim),
he continued his resentment after he became Judge, and let it be seen, by
contemptuous treatment and hostile decisions, that the great (idvocate had
not " the ear of the Court." In 1789, he was created Baron Fitzgibbon, in
the peerage of Ireland. In 1793, he was advanced to the rank of Viscount.
In 1795, he was made Eari of Clare, and was created an English Baron in
1799, in reward for his severity during the Eebellion of '98. He was appoint-
ed Vice-chancellor of Dublin University, in 1791. Moore, in the auto-bio
graphical prefaces to his poems, gives an interesting account of the seai-ching
examination to which he and other young members of Trinity CoUege were
subjected by Lord Clare under suspicion of holding " rebellious principles."
Implacable in his pohtical and personal enmities. Lord Clare had few friends.
He ruled with a rod of iron, and for twelve years was hated by the bulk of the
Irish, whom he so much, and so long oppressed.  M.

PEOFESSIONAL COUETESIES. 69
the entire body. There may be exceptions that escaped my
observation ; but I could perceive no symptoms of subserviency
— no surrender of the slightest tittle of their clients' rights to
the frowns or impatience of the bench. I was rather struck by
the peculiarly bold and decisive tone, with which, when occa
sions arose, they asserted the privileges of the advocate.
" While I am upon this subject, I can not omit a passing
remark upon another quality, by which I consider the gentle
men of this bar to be pre-eminently distinguished — the invari
able courtesy of manners which they preserve amid all the
hm'ry and excitement of litigation. The present Chancellor
of Ireland,* himself a finished gentleman, was struck upon his
arri-val 'by the peculiarly gentlemanlike manner in which he
observed business transacted in his court.' Mr. Bushe is the
great model of this quality. He hands up a point of law to
the bench with as much grace and pliancy of gesture, as if he
were presenting a court-lady with a fan. This excessive
finish is peculiar to himself; but the spirit which dictates it is
common to the entire profession. Scenes of turbulent alterca
tion are inevitably frequent, and every weapon of disputation
— wit and sneers, and deadly brain-blows — must be employed
and encountered ; but the contest is purely intellectual : it is
extremely rare, indeed, that anything approaching to an
offensive personality escapes. No ultra-forensic warmth occurs
in the Irish courts. It is avoided on common principles of
good taste : it is also prevented, if I am rightly informed, by
the understood feeling that anything bordering upon personal
rudeness must infallibly lead to a settlement out of Oourt."t
When I first frequented the courts in Dublin, I went entirely
with the view of witnessing the specimens of forensic talent
displayed there. I found more than I had expected ; and one
circumstance that very forcibly struck me demands a few
words apart. I would recommend to any stranger wishing to
* The late Lord Manners. — M.
t Sir Jonah Barrington, in the amusing " Personal Sketches of his o-wn
Time," dedicates a chapter to the Fire-eaters of Dublin, and gives a list of
leading personages (including about a dozen judges) who had fought duels in
his time. He says : " The number of killed and wounded among the bar was
very considerable. The other learned professions suffered much less." — M.

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

OEATOET OF THE AFFIDAVIT. 71
beaten black and blue for his presumption : if he shows the
King's writ, it is torn from him, and flung back in fragments
in his face. Resistance, remonstrance, and entreaties, are all
unavailing ; nothing remains for him but to effect his retreat,
if the power of moving be left him, to the nearest magistrate,
not iu the interest of ^le defendant, where with the help of
some attorney that, will venture to takea fee against "his
honor," he draws up a bulletin of his kicks and bruises in the
form of an affidavit, to ground a motion that " another writ do
issue ;" or, as it might be more correctly worded, " that
another process-server do expose himself to as sound a thrash
ing as the last." This is not an exaggerated picture ; and in
order to complete it, it should not be omitted that the instiga
tor of the outrage, as soon as he can with safety appear abroad,
will, to a certainty, be found among the most clamorous for
proclamations and insurrection-acts, to keep down the lawless
propensities of his district.*
I have offered a specimen of Irish society, as I could collect
it from affidavits daily produced in court ; yet, shocking and
disgusting as the details are, I confess it is not easy to repress
a smile at the style in which those adventurous scenes are
described. The affidavits are generally the composition of
country attorneys. The maltreated process-server puts the
story of his injured feelings and beaten carcase into the hands
* Considerable ingenuity used to be exercised in the treatment of process-
servers in Ireland. It was said, as a sort of boast, that " the King's writ would
not run in Connaught." This meant that nobody could serve it. To say of
any stranger, in that district, that he looked like a process-server, was to con
demn him, at the least, to an utter impossibility of obtaining food, fire, and
lodging, whether for love or money. If a. man were found with a copy of a
writ in his pocket, waiting the opportunity to serve it on a poptilar defendant,
he was simply condemned, in the first instance, to make a meal, scrap by scrap,
until they were consumed, of the parchment original and the paper copy. If
detected a second time, the common penalty was to have his ears cut off. A
third attempt was rarely made, the punishment being to take off the cul
prit's shirt, hold him on the ground, and draw ». thomy furze-bush over his
back, to and fro, until it was shockingly lacerated. This agreeable and humane
practice, which was called carding, chiefly prevailed in Tipperary. At present,
among other changes in Ireland, is the tolerance of legal satellites. Writs now
"run" in Connaught and Tipperary, quite as freely as in Devonshire or Dur
ham.— M.

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

DANIEL O'CONNELL.
If any one, being a stranger in Dublin, should chance, as
you return upon a winter's morning from one of the " small
and early" parties of that raking metropolis — that is to say,
between the hours of five and six o'clock — to pass along the
south side of Merrion Square,* you will not fail to observe that
among those splendid mansions there is one evidently tenanted
by a person whose habits differ materially from those of his
fashionable neighbors. The- half-opened parlor-shutter, and
the light within, announce that some one dwells there whose
time is too precious to permit him to regulate his rising with
the sun's. Should your curiosity tempt you to ascend the
steps, and, under cover of the dark, to reconnoitre the interior,
you will see a tall, able-bodied man standing at a desk, and
immersed in solitary occupation. Upon the wall in front of
him there hangs a crucifix. From this, and from the calm at
titude of the person within, and from a certain monastic rotun
dity about his neck and shoulders, your first impression will
be, that he must be some pious dignitary of 'the Church of
Eome absorbed in his matin devotions.
But this conjecture will be rejected almost as soon as formed.
No sooner can the eye take in the other furniture of the apart
ment — the book-cases clogged with tomes in plain calf-skin
binding, the blue-covered octavos that lie about on the tables
and the floor, the reams of manuscript in oblong folds and be
girt with crimson tape — than it becomes evident that the
party meditating amid such objects must be thinking far more
* One of the principal squares in Dublin, in which Mr. O'Connell resided
for about thirty years. — M.
Vol. L— 4

74 DANIEL O'OONNELL.
of the law than the prophets. He is, unequivocally, a ban-is-
ter, but apparently of that homely, chamber-keeping, plodding
cast, who labor hard to make up by assiduity what they want
in wit — who are up and stirring before the bird of the morning
has sounded the retreat to the wandering spectre — and are
already brain-deep in the dizzying vortex of mortgages and
cross-remainders, and mergers and remitters ; while his clients,
still lapped in sweet oblivion of the law's delay, are fondly
dreaming that their cause is peremptorily set down for a final
hearing. Having come to this conclusion, you push on for
home, blessing your stars on the way that you are not a law
yer, and sincerely compassionating the sedentary drudge whom
you have just detected in the performance of his cheerless toiL
But should you happen, in the course of the same day, to
stroll down to the Four Courts, you will be not a little sur
prised to find the object of your pity miraculously transferred
from the severe recluse of the morning into one of the most
bustling, important, and joyous personages, in that busy scene.
There you will be sure to see him, his countenance braced up
and glistening with health and spirits* — with a huge, plethoric '
bag, which his robust arms can scarcely sustain, clasped with
paternal fondness to his breast — and environed by a living
palisade of clients and attorneys, with outstretched necks, and
•mouths and ears agape, to catch up any chance-opinion that
may be coaxed out of him in a colloquial -n^ay, or listening to
what the client relishes still better (for in no event can they
be slided into a bill of costs), the counsellor's bursts of jovial
and familiar humor, or, when he touches on a sadder strain,
his prophetic assurances that the hour of Ireland's redemption
is at hand. You perceive at once that you have lighted upon
a great popular advocate ; and if you take the trouble to follow
his movements for a couple of hours through the several Courts,
you will not fail to discover the qualities that have made him
so — his legal competency — his business-like habits — his san-
» O'ConneU was a man of lofty stature, strong build, general good health,
and accustomed to a great deal of exercise. His three months' imprisonment in
Kichmond Penitentiary, after the State Trials of 1844, may be said to have
broken up his strong constitution. The prisoned eagle pined for want of its
wonted free range over mountain, plain, and valley. — M.

VEESATELITT AND UBIQUITY. 75
gnine temperament, which renders him not merely the advo
cate but the partisan of his client — his acuteness — his fluency
of thought and language — his unconquerable good-humor —
and, above all, his versatility.
By the hour of three, when the judges usually rise, you will
have seen him go through a quantity of business, the prepara
tion for, and performance of -which, would be sufficient to wear
down an ordinary constitution, and you naturally suppose that
the remaining portion of the day must of necessity be devoted
to recreation or repose : but here, again, you will be mistaken ;
for should you feel disposed, as you return from the Courts, to
drop in to any of the public meetings that are almost daily
held for some purpose, or to no purpose, in Dublin, to a cer
tainty you will find the counsellor there before you, the presi
ding spirit of the scene, riding in the whirlwind, and directing
the storm of popular debate, with a strength of lungs, and re
dundancy of animation, as if he had that njoment started fresh
for the labors of the day. There he remains until, by dint of
strength or dexterity, he has carried every point; and thence,
if you would see him to the close of the day's " eventful his
tory," you will, in all likelihood, have to follow him to a pub
lic dinner, from which, after having acted a conspicuous part
in the turbulent festivity of the evening, and thrown off half a
dozen speeches in praise of Ireland, he retires at a late hour
to repair the wear and tear of the day by a short interval of
repose, and is sure to be found before dawn-break next morn
ing at his solitary post, recommencing the routine of his rest
less existence. Now, any one who has once seen, in the pre
ceding situations, the able-bodied, able-minded, acting, talking,
jnultifarious person I have been just describing, has no occa
sion to inquire his name : he may be assured that he is, and
can be, no other than "Kerry's pride and Munster's glory,"
the far-famed and indefatigable Daniel O'Connell.
Mr. O'Connell was born about eight-and-forty years ago, in
that part of the united kingdoms of Ireland and Kerry, called
Kerry.* He is said to be descended in a mathematically and
* This sketch appeared in 1823. Daniel O'Connell, bom August 6, 1775,
died on the 15th of May, 1847, in his seventy-second year. He was of ^ long-

76
morally straight line from the ancient kings of Ivera, one of
the kingdoms of the county of Kerry. The discrowned fam
ily, however, have something better than the saddening boast
lived family, for his uncle Maurice, from whom he inherited DerrynaMe abbey,
was 97, at his death, in 1825 ; and another uncle, General O'Connell, in the
French service, and grand-cross of the order of St. Louis, died in 1834, aged
91. He was then not only a general in the French, but oldest colonel in the
English service, and the present military tactics of Eurojie emanated, in 1787,
from a military board in which he was the lowest in rank, but highest in abil
ity. In Easter Tei-m, 1798 (a few months before the " EobelHon"), O'Connell
was called to the Irish bar, and his ability and industry soon obtained him
business. In 1802, he married his cousin. He opposed the Union, and in
1809, commenced his public agitation for Catholic emancipation. He became
a leader of the Catholic Board, and when that body was put down by the Irish
government, while others silently submitted, O'Connell assumed the leadership
and published the first of his annual letters to the people of Ireland, headed
with the motto, from Childe Harold,
" Hereditary bondsmen, know ye not,
Who would J)e free, themselves must strike the blow."
At aggregate and other public meetings of the Catholics, he was the chief speak
er and doer, for yr-ars. In 1815, he was forced bito a duel with Mr. D'Esten-e,
one of the city of Dublin corporation, and the assailant fell. A subsequent mis
understanding with Mr. (the late Sir Eobert) Peel, then Secretai-y fin- Ireland,
led to a challenge, but the duel was prevented by the an-est of O'Connell, on
his way to Calais, whither Peel had gone, as beyond the jurisdiction of British
law. At that time, O'Connell determined never again to become a combatant.
From 1815, until 1831, when he left the bar, his professional income averaged
from six thousand to eight thousand pounds sterling a ye-ir, and on his uncle's
death in 1825, ho succeeded to landed property estimated at foiu- thousand
pounds steriing per annum. He was, beyond all doubt, the best general law
yer in Ireland. In 1821, 'on the visit of George IV. to Ireland, he played the
courtier — more genially than gracefully. In 1823, he founded the CathoUc
Association, in conjunction with Mr. Sheil — organized tlie catholic rent, by
which the battle of the people was fought at the election hustings^ — formed
one of a deputation to England, to adjust the catholic claims — committed the
error of consenting to accept emancipation, cfogged -with " the wings" (i. c.
state payment of the cathohc clergy, and confiscation of the forty shillings sterl
ing elective franchise) was baflled by the intolerants — veiilured in 1828, on the
bold expedient of contesting the Clare election, against a popular member
of the Wellington cabinet — was elected, and thereby forced Wellington to
concede Emancipation, in 1829— had a seat in pariiament until his death-
was of great weight as a public man, by reason of his eloquence, tact, and in
fluence, carrying forty Irish members with him in a division — aided the Mel
bourne ministiy ngainst Peel — was offered and dechned a sent on the judicial
bench, as Master of the Eolls in Ireland — cai-ried on the " Eepeal" agitation,

HIS OEIGINAL DESTINATION. 77
of regal descent to prop, their pride. His present ex-Majesty
of Ivera, Mr. Daniel O'Connell's uncle, has a territorial reve
nue of four or five thousand a year to support the dignity of
his traditional throne ; while tbe numerous princes of the
blood, dispersed through the dominions of their fathers, in the
characters of tenants in fee-simple, opulent leaseholders, or
sturdy mortgagees in possession, form a compact and powerful
squirearchy, before whose influence the proud " descendants
of the stranger" are often made to bow their necks, in the
angry collisions of county politics. The subject of the present
notice is understood to be the heir-apparent to his uncle's pos
sessions. These he must soon enjoy, for his royal kinsman has
passed his ninetieth year.* In the meantime he rules in his
own person an extensive tract among the Kerry hills — of little
value, it is said, in point of revenue, but dear to the possessor
as the residence of the idol of his heart, and in truth almost
the only tenant on three fourths of the estate —
" The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty.''
Mr. O'Connell was originally intended for the Church, or,
more strictly speaking, for the Chapel. He was sent, accord
ing to the necessities of the time, to be educated at St. Omer;
for in those days the wise government of Ireland would not
allow the land of Protestant ascendency to be contaminated
by a public school of Catholic theology. Dr. Duigenan was
compelled to permit the detested doctrines to be freely preached ;
but to make the professors of them good subjects, he shrewdly
insisted that they should still, as of old, be forced to cross the
seas, and lay in a preliminary stock of Irish loj'alty at a for
eign university. But the dread of indigenous theology was
during all this time — was prosecuted for presumed overt-acts, in 1843, and con
demned, with others, after a trial which lasted twenty-five days — was convict
ed — had the judgment reversed, by the House of Lords, after he and his friends
had been three months in prison, and, soon after, saw his own moderate policy
opposed by the bolder leaders of the " Young Ireland" party, whereby his own
popularity declined — suffered from declining health — went to Italy, and died
at Genoa, before he could reach Rome, " the City of the Soul" to so earnest a
Catholic as he was. — M.
* Maurice O'Connell did not die until 1825, two years after this sketch ap
peared. — M.

78 DANIEL o'connp;ll.
not peculiar to that great man*.' I observe that some English
statesmen have discovered that all the disasters of Ireland
have been caused by an invisible establishment of Jesuits, and
must continue until the omnipotence of Parliament shall expel
the intruders — a felicitous insight into cause and efi'ect, resem
bling that of the orthodox crew of a British packet, who, having
discovered, during a gale of wind, that a Methodist preacher
was among the passengers, at once made up their minds that
the fury of the tempest would never abate until the vessel
should be exorcised by heaving the nonconformist overboard.
I have not heard what occasioned Mr. O'Connell to change
his destination. He probably had the good sense to feel that
he had too much flesh and blood for a cloister ; and the nov
elty of a legal career to a Catholic (for the Bar had just been
opened to his persuasion) must have had its attractions. He
accordingly left St. Omer, with its casuistry, and fasting, and
ves23er-hyiniis, to less earthly temperaments ; and having swal
lowed the regular number of legs of mutton at the Middle
Temple, was duly admitted to the Irish Bar in Easter term,
1798. The event has justified his choice. With all the im
pediments of his religion and his politics, his progress was
rapid. He is now, and has been for many years, as high in
his profession as it is possible for a Catholic to ascend.
Mr. O'Connell, if not the ablest, is certainly the most singu
lar man at the Irish Bar. He is singular, not merely in the
vigor of his faculties, but in their extreme variety and apparent
inconsistency ; and the same may be said of his character.
The elements of both are so many and diverse, that it would
seem as if half a dozen varieties of the human species, and
* Patrick Duigenan, LL.D, remarkable even amid Irish absolutism and ultra-
Protestantism, for his defence of arbitrary power and his rank intolerance. He
was the bosom friend and abettor of Lord Clai-e, the chancellor of Ireland,
and was his adviser and agent, in public matters, for many years. Dr.
Duigenan was born in 1735, of humble parents and died in 1816. Called to
the bar, he became King's advocate in, and subsequently Judge of, the Prerog
ative Court, in Dublin. He was also vicar-general of the Arch-diocese of
Armagh, Member of Pai-hament, Doctor of Laws, and a Pri^7 Councillor. He
was a pamphleteer of more fecundity than force, and one of the most violent
anti-Oatholic partisans of his day. — M.

HIS APPEAEANCK. 79
these not always on the best terms wiih each other, had been
capriciously huddled together into a single frame to make up
his strange and complex identity ; and hence it is, that, though
he is a favorable subject for a sketch, I find the task of accu
rate delineation to be far less easy than I anticipated. I
have the man before me, and willing enough, it would appear,
that his features should be commemorated ; but, like the poor
artist that had to deal with the frisky philosopher of Ferney,*
with all my efforts I can not keep him steady to any single
posture or expression. I see him distinctly at one moment a
hard-headed working lawyer, the next a glowing politician,
the next an awful theologian ; his features now sunk into the
deepest shade of patriotic anguish, now illuminated, no one
can tell why, as for the celebration of a national triumph. A
little while back I caught him in his character of a sturdy re
former, proclaiming the constitution, and denouncing the vices
of courts and kings, and ho promised me that he would keep
to that; but, before I had time to look about me, there he was,
off to the levee ! be-bagged and be-sworded like any oppres
sor of them all, playing off his loyal looks and anti-radical
bows, as if he was to be one of Mr. Blake'st next baronets, or
as if he had not sufficiently proved his attachment to the
throne by presenting his majesty with a cro-wn of Irish laurel
* Francis Marie Arouet de Voltaire, born in 1694, died 1778. He was im
prisoned in the Bastille, in 1716, on suspicion of having libelled the Govern
ment. Here he planned his poem of the " Henriade,'' and wrote the tragedy
of OEdipus, acted in 1718, with marked success. Henceforth his c-areer was
wholly literary, but his political and philosophical opinions constantly set him at
issue with "the powers that be," and much of his time was passed in exile. In
1743, his play of " Merope" was so well received at Paris, that he was ap
pointed gentleman of the King's bed-chamber, and historiographer of France.
In 1750, he went to Berlin, on a visit toFrederic of Prussia, with whom he
speedily quarrelled. Finally he retired to the village of Ferney, in Switzeriand,
where he lived during the rest of his life, with Madame Denis, his niece. His
works, in seventy octavo volumes, include nearly all departments of polite lit
erature — chiefly poetry, history, biography, fiction, philosophy, criticism, and
the drama. A few days before his death, he was publicly crowned with laurel
on the stage of the theatre in Paris. — M.
t Mr. Blake, who filled the lucrative office of Chief Kemembrancer of the
Court of Exchequer, was a Cathohc who contrived to be " hand and glove"
with all parties, with his sincerity questioned by none. — M.

80 DANIEL o'cONNELL.
on the beach of Dunleary." Such a compound can he describ
ed only by enumerating its several ingredients; and even
here I am not sure that my performance, if rigidly criticised,
may not turn out, like my subject, to be occasionally at vari
ance with itself. I shall begin with (what in other eminent
lawyers is subordinate) his individual and extra-professional
peculiarities; for in O'Connell these are paramount, and act a
leading part in every scene, whether legal or otherwise, of his
complicated avocations.
His frame is tall, expanded, and muscular; precisely such
as befits a man of the people — for the phj-sical classes ever
look with double confidence and affection upon a leader who
represents in his own person the qualities upon which they
rely. In his face he has been equally fortunate ; it is ex
tremely comely. The features are at once soft and manly;
the florid glow of health and a sanguine temperament is dif
fused over the whole countenance, which is national in the
outline, and beaming -\vith national emotion. The expression
is open and confiding, and inviting confidence; there is not a
trace of malignity or wile — if there were, the bright and
sweet blue eyes, the most kindly and honest-looking tbat can
be conceived, would repel the imputation. These popular gifts
of nature O'Connell has not neglected to set off by his exter
nal carriage and deportment — or, perhaps, I should rather
say, that the same hand Avhicli has moulded the exterior has
supersaturated the inner man with a fund of restless propen
sity, which it is quite beyond his power, as it is certainly he-
side his inclination, to control. A large portion of this is ne
cessarily expended upon his legal avocations ; but the labors
of the most laborious of professions can not tame him into re
pose : after deducting the daily drains of the study and the
courts, there remains an ample residuum of animal spirits and
ardor for occupation, which go to form a distinct, and, I might
say, a predomiuEint character — the political chieftain. The
existence of this overweening vivacity is conspicuous in O'Con
nell's manners and movements, and being a popular, and more
• After the visit of George IV. in 1821, Dunleary (the port of Dublin) ob
tained and keeps the narae of Kingston. — M.

HIS LEGAL QUALIFICATIONS. 81,
particularly a national qualitj', gi-ea.tly recommends him to the
Irish people — " Mobilitate viget" — body aud soul are in a
state of permanent insurrection.
See him iu the streets, and you perceive at once that he is a
man who has sworn that his country's wrongs shall be avenged.
A Dublin jury (if judiciously selected) would find his very gait
and gestures to be high treason by construction, so explicitly
do they enforce the national sentiment, of "Ireland her own,
or the world in ablaze.'' As he marches to court, he shoulders
his umbrella as if it were a pike. He flings out one factious
foot before the other, as if he had already burst his bonds, and
was kicking the Protestant ascendency before him ; while
ever and anon a democratic, broad-shouldered roll of the upper
man, is manifestly an indignant effort to shuffle off " the op
pression of seven hundred years." This intensely national
sensibility is the prevailing peculiarity in O'Connell's char
acter; for it is not only Avhen abroad, and in the popular gaze,
that Irish affairs seem to press ®ii- his heart : the same Erin-
go-bragh feeling follows him into the most technical details of
his forensic occupations. Give him tbe most dry and abstract
position of law to support — the most remote that imagination
can conceive from the violation of the Articles of Limerick, or
the rape of the Irish parliament, and, ten to one, but he -will
contrive to interweave a patriotic episode upon those examples
of British domination. The people are never absent from his
thoughts. He tosses up abill of exceptions to a judge's charge
in the name of Ireland, and pockets a special retainer with the
air of a man that dotes upon his country. There is, perhaps,
. some share of exaggeration in all this ; but much less, I do
believe, than is generally suspected, and I apprehend that he
would scarcely pass fora patriot without it ; for, in fact, he has
been so successful, and looks so contented, and his elastic,
unbroken spirits, are so disposed to bound and frisk for very
joy — in a word, he has naturally so bad a facefor a grievance,
that his political sincerity might appear equivocal, were there
not some clouds of patriotic grief or indignation to temper the
sunshine that is for ever bursting through them.
As a professional man, O'Connell is, perhaps, for general
-^ 4*

82 DANIEL o'coNNELL.
business, the most competent advocate at the Irish bar. Every
requisite for a barrister of all-work is combined in him ; some
in perfection — all in sufficiency. He is not understood to be
a deep scientific lawyer. He is, what is far better for himself
and his clients, an admirably practical one. He is a thorough
adept in all the complicated and fantastic forms with which
Justice, like a Chinese monarch, insists that har votaries shall
approach her. A suitor advancing toward her throne, cannot
go through the evolutions of the indispensable Ko-iou under a
more skilful master of the ceremonies. In this department
of his profession, the knowledge of the practice of the courts,
and in a perfect familiarity with the general principles of law
that are applicable to questions discussed in open court, O'Con
nell is on a level with the most experienced of his competitors;
and with few exceptions, perhaps with the single one of Mr.
Plunket, he surpasses them all in the vehement and perti
nacious talent with which he contends to the last for victory,
or, w-here victory is impossible, for an honorable retreat. If
his mind had been duly disciplined, he would have been a
first-rate reasoner and a most formidable sophist. He has all
the requisites from nature — singular clearness, promptitude,
and acuteness. When occasion requires, he evinces a meta
physical subtlety of perception which nothing can elude.
The most slippery distinction that glides across him, he can
grasp and hold " pressis manubus," until he pleases to set it
free. But his argumentative powers lose much of their effect
from want of arrangement. His thoughts have too much of
the impatience of conscious strength to submit to an orderly
disposition. Instead of moving to the conflict in compact
array, they rush forward like a tumultuary insurgent mass,
jostling and overturning one another in the confusion of the
charge ; and, though finally beating down all opposition by
sheer ^^trength and numbers, still reminding us of the far
greater things they might have achieved had they been better
drilled. ^
But O'Connell has, by temperament, a disdain of everything
tliat IS methodical and sedate. You can see this running
through his whole deportment in court. I never knew a learn-

HTS DEMEANOE TN COUET. 83
ed personage who resorted so little to the ordinary tricks of
Ms vocation. As he sits waiting till his turn comes to " blaze
a-way," he appears totally exempt from the usual throes and
heavings of animo-gestation. There is no hermetically-sealing
of the lips, as if nothing less could restrain the fermentation
within ; there are no trances of abstraction, as if the thoughts
had left their home on a distant voyage of discovery ; no
haughty swellings of the'mind into alto-relievos on the learned
brow; — there is nothing of this about O'Connell. On the
contrary, his countenance and manner impress jo'a with the
notion, that he looks forward to the coming effort as a pastime
in which he takes delight. Instead of assuming the " Sir
Oracle," he is all gayety and good-humor, and seldom fails
to disturb the gravity of the proceedings by a series'of disor
derly jokes, for which he is duly rebuked by his antagonists
with a solemnity of indignation that provokes a repetition
of the offence ; but his insubordinate levity is, for the most
part, so redeemed by his impei'twbable good-temper, that even
the judges, when compelled to interfere and pronounce him
out of order, are generally shaking their sides as heartily as the
most enraptured of his admirers in the galleries. In the
midst, however, of this seeming carelessness, his mind is, in
reality, attending with the keenest vigilance to the subject-
matter of discussion; and the contrast is often quite amusing.
While his eyes are wantoning around the court in search of
an object to be knocked down by a blow of his boisterous play
fulness, or, in a more serious mood, while he is sketching ou
the margin of his brief the outline of an impossible republic,
or running through a rough calculation of the' numher of Irish
men capable of bearing pikes, according to the latest returns
of the population — if the minutest irregularity or misstatement
is attempted on the other side, up he is sure to start with all
imaginable alertness, and, reassuming the advocate, puts for
ward his objection, with a degree of vigor and perspicuity
which manifests that^his attention had not wandered for au
instant from the business before him.
Mr. O'Connell is in particular request in jury-cases. There
he is in his element. Next to the "harp of his country," an

84 DANIEL o'cONNELL.
Irish jury is the instrument on which he delights to plaj' ; and
no one better understands its qualities and compass. I have
already glanced at his versatility. It is here that it is dis
played. His powers as a Nisi-P-rius advocate, consist not sp
much in the perfection of any of the qualities necessary to the
art of persuasion, as in the number of them that he has at
command, and the skill with which he selects and adapts them
to the exigency of each particular case. He has a thorough
knowledge of human nature, as it prevails in the class of men
whom he has to mould to his purpose.';. I know of no one that
exhibits amore quick and accurate perception of the essential
peculiarities of the Irish character. It is not merely with ref
erence to their passions that he understands them, tliough here
he is pre-eminently adroit. He can cajole a dozen of miser- ,
able corporation-hacks into the persuasion that the honor of
their country is concentrated in their persons. His mere acting
on such occasions 'is admirable : uo matter how base and
stupid, and how poisoned by political antipathy to himself, he
may believe them to be, he affects the most complimentary
ignorance of their real characters. He Ijides hi,3 scorn and
contempt under a look of unbounded reliance. He addresses
them with all the deference due to upright and high-minded
jurors. He talks to them of "the eyes of all Europe," and
the present gratitude of Ireland, and the residuary blessings
of posterity, with the most peifidious command of counte
nance. In short, by dint of unmeiited commendations, he
belabors them into the belief that, after all, they have some
reputation to sustain, and sets them chuckling with anticipated
exultation, atthe'honors with which a verdict according to the
evidence is to consecrate their names.
But,. in addition to the art of heating the passions of his
hearers to the malleable point, O'ConneU manifests powers of
observation of anpthpr, and, for general purposes, a more valu
able kind. He. knows that strange modification of humanity,
the Irish mind, not only in its moral, but in its metaphysical
peculiarities. Throw him upon any particular class of men,
an^ you would imagine that he must have lived n)uong them
3.11 his life, so intuitively does he accommodate his styl^ of

HIS .JUEY SPlCKCriES. 85
argument to their particular modes of thinking and reasoning.
He knows the exact quantity of strict logic which they will
bear or can comprehend. Hence (where it serves his purpose),
instead of attempting to drag them along with him, whether
they will or no, by a chain of unbroken demonstration, he has
the address to make them imagine that their movements are
directed solely by themselves. He pays their capacities the
compliment of not making things too clear. Familiar with the
habitual tendencies of their minds, he contents himself with
throwing off rather materials for reasoning than elaborate rea
sonings — mere fragments, or seeds of thought, which, from his
knowledge of the soil in^-which they drop, he confidently pre
dicts will shoot up and expand into precisely the conclusions
that he wants. This method has the disadvantage, as far as
personally regards the speaker, of giving tho character of more
than his usual looseness and irregularity to O'Connell's jury-
speeches ; but his client, for whom alone he labors, is a gainer
by it — directly in the way I have been stating, and indirectly
for this reason, that it keeps the jury in the dark as to the
points of the case in which he feels he is weak. By abstain
ing from a show of rigorous demonstration, where all the argu
ment is evidently upon his side, he excites no suspicion by
keeping at an equal distance from topics which he could not
venture to approach. This, of course, is not to be taken as
O'Connell's invariable manner, for he has no invariable man
ner, but as a specimen of that dexterous accommodation of par
ticular means to a J)articular end, from which his general
powers as a Nisi-Prius advocate may be inferred. And so, too,
of the tone in which he labors to extort a verdict ; for though
when compelled by circumstances, he can be soft and soothing,
as I have above described him, yet on other occasions, where
it can be done with safety, he does not hesitate to apprise a
jury, whose purity he suspects, of his real opinion of their
merits, and indeed, not unfrequently, in the roundest terms
defies them to balance for an instant between their malignant
prejudices and the clear and resistless justice of the case.
There is one, the most difficult, it is said, and certainly the
most anxious and responsible part of an advocate's duties, in

86 DANIEL O'CONNKLL.
which O'Connell is without a rival at the Irish Bar — I allude
to his skill in conducting defences in the Crown court. His
ability in this branch of his profession illustrates one of those
inconsistencies in his character to whicli I have already ad
verted. Though habitually so bold and sanguine, he is here
a model of forethought and undeviating caution. In his most
rapid cross-examinations, he never puts a dangerous question.
He presses a witness upon collateral facts, and beats him
down by arguments and jokes and vociferation ; but wisely
presuming his client to be guilty until he has the good luck to
escape conviction, he never affords the witness an opportunity
of repeating his original narrative, and perhaps by supplying
an omitted item, of sealing the doom of the accused.
O'Connell's ordinary style is vigorous and copious, but in
correct. The want of compactness in his periods, however, I
attribute chiefly to inattention. He has phrase in abundance
at command, is sensible of melody. Every now and then he
throws off sentences not only free from all defect, but ex
tremely felicitous specimens of diction. As to his general
powers of eloquence, he rarely fails in a case admitting of emo
tion, to make a deep impression upon a jury; and in a popular
assembly he is supreme. Still there is much more of elo
quence in his manner and topics than in his conceptions. He
unquestionably proves, by occasional bursts, that the elements
of oratory, and perhaps of the highest order, are about him;
but he has had too many pressing demands of another kind to
distract him from the cultivation of this the rarest of all attain
ments, and accordingly I am not aware that any of his efforts,
however able and successful, have deserved, as examples of
public speaking, to survive the occasion. His manner, though
far from graceful, is earnest and impressive. It has a steady
and natural ivarmth, without any of that snappish animation
in which gentlemen of tbe long robe are prone to indulge.
His voice is powerful, and the intonations full and graduated.
I understand that when he first appeared at the Bar, his accent
at once betrayed his foreign education. To this day there is a
remaining dash of Foigardism in his pronunciation of particular
words ; but, on the whole, he has brought himself, as far as

AS A POPULAE LEADTCE. 87
delivery is concerned, to talk pretty much like a British sub
ject. It was my original intention to have dwelt in some detail
upon O'Connell, as a popular leader, but I have, no longer
space, and I could scarcely effect my purpose without plunging
into that " sea of troubles," the present politics of Ireland : yet a
word or two upon the subject before I have done. Indeed, in
common fairness, I feel bound to correct any depreciating in
ferences that may be drawn from the tone of levity in which
I may have glanced at some traits of his public deportment,
and which I should have hesitated to indulge in, if I had not
given him credit for the full measure of good-humor and good
sense, that can discriminate at once (should these pages meet
his eye) between an inoffensive sally and a hostile sneer.
O'Connell has been now [1823] for three and twenty years
a busy actor upon an agitated scene. During that period no
public character has been more zealously extolled, or more
cordially reviled. Has the praise or blame been excessive, or
has either been undeserved 1 Has he been a patriot, or an
incendiary 1 for, such are the extreme points of view in which
the question of his merits has been discussed by persons too
impassioned and too interested in the result to pronounce a
sound opinion upon it. To one, however, who has never been
provoked to admire or bate him to excess, the solution may
not be difficult. After reviewing the whole of O'Connell's
career as a politician, an impartial observer will be disposed
to say of him, that he was a man of a strong understanding
and of stronger feelings, occupied incessantly, and almost
always without due preparation, upon questions where it would
have perplexed the wisest to discern the exact medium be
tween disgraceful submission and factious importunity — that
by necessity a partisan, he has been steady to his cause, and
consistent in his ultimate object, though many times inconsis
tent in the adoption of the means to obtain it; and that now
in the long run, after all the charges of violence and indiscre
tion that have been heaped upon him, it is questioned by some
of the clearest understanding in England, whether, in the
present state of political morals, a more courtly policy than

88 danii;l oV-onnell.
O'ConneU's either is, or was ever calculated to advance the
interests of his body.
Leaving his political incentives aside, and referring solely
to the personal provocations to which he is daily exposed, I
should say, that it would be utterly unnatural in such a man
to be other than violent. To O'ConneU, as a barrister, his
disqualification is a grievous injustice. Tt is not in theory
alone that it operates. It visits him in the practical details
of his professional life, and in forms the most likely to gall a
man of conscious powers and an ambitious temperament.
He has the mortification of being incessantly reminded that,
for 3'ears past, his fortunes have been absolutely at a dead
stop, while he was constantly condemned to see men who
started with him and after him, none of them his superiors,
many of them far beneath him, partially thrust before him,
and lifted into stations of honor and emolument to which he is
forbidden to aspire. The stoutest adversary of papal en
croachments must admit, that there is something irritating in
this; for my part, instead of judging harshly of the spirit in
which he retaliates, I rather honor the man for the energy
with which he wrestles to the last with the system that would
keep him down ; and if now and then his resistance assumes
such a form as to be in itself an evil, I am not soriy, for the
sake of freedom and humanity, to see it proved that intolerant
laws can not be enforced without inconvenience. But in gen
eral (to speak the truth) O'ConneU's vengeance is not of a very
deadly description. He is, after all, a man of a kindly and
forgiving nature : and where the general interests of his country
are not concerned, is disposed to resent his personal -wrongs
with great comraand of temper. His forbearance in this re
spect is really creditable to him, and the more so as it meets
with no return.
The admirers of King WUliam have no mercy for a man,
who, in his 'seditious moods, is so provoking as to tell the world
that their idol was " a Dutch adventurer." Then his intolera
ble success in a profession where many a stanch Protestant is
condemned to starve, and his fashionable house in Merrion-
square, and a greater eye-sore still, his dashing revolutionary

KEEPS -WITTTIN THE LA^W. 89
equipage, green carriage, green liveries, and turbulent Popish
steeds, prancing over a Protestant pavement to the terror of
Protestant passengers — a nuisance that in the good old times
would have been put down by Act of Parliament — these and
other provocations of equal publicity, have exposed this learned
culprit to the deep and irrevocable detestation of a numerous
class of his Majesty's hating subjects in Ireland. And the
feeling is duly communicated to the public. The loyal press
of Dublin teems with the most astounding imputations upon his
character and motives. As a dish for the periodical libellers
of the day, O'Connell is quite a cut-and-come-again, from the
crazy Churchman, foaming over the apprehended fall of tithes,
down to the political striplings of the College, who, instead of
trying their youthful genius upon the cardinal virtues, or "the
lawfulness of killing Csesar," devote their hours of classic
leisure to the more laudable task of demonstrating, for the
comfort of the Orange lodges, that " Counsellor O'Connell
carries on a treasonable correspondence with Captain Eock."
But the Counseller, who happens to know a little more of the
law of high treason than bis accusers, has the good sense to
laugh at them and their threats of tbe hangman. Now that
all practical attempts upon life have been abandoned,* he
bears the rest with true Christian patience and contempt; and
whenever any of his defamers recant "m extremis" and die
good Catholics, as the most bigoted among them are said to
* I allude to what was really a s^iocking occurrence. A Corporation has
been defined to be " a thing having neither a body to be kicked nor a soul to
lie damned." With this definition before him, Mr. O'Connell did not imagine
that he exceeded the limits of public debate in calling the Dublin Corporation
a "beggarly Corporation." One of its most needy members [Mr. d'Esterre],
however, either volunteered or was incited to think otherwise, and called upon
^he speaker to. apologize or fight. To Mr. O'Connell, a life of vital importance
to a numerous family, and of great importance to the best part of the Irish pub
lic, the alternative was dreadful. He saw the ferocity of the transaction in its
full light, but he committ"d his conduct to the decisioh of his friends, and a
duel ensued. The aggressor was killed. Had the result been different, his
claims would probably not have been overlooked by the patrons of the time
(iSlS) ; at least such is understood to have been the expectation under which
he provoked his fate.

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

O'CONNELL IN 1829.
It w'as on a calm autumn evening that I had returned from
a walk to the splendid seat of Lord Powerscourt, in the county
of Wicklow. I had sat down at the inn of the little village
where I was sojourning, and had placed myself in the window,
to while away an hour in observing the " pas.sing events" of
the place. The market was over; the people had gradually
passed to their homes ; the busy hum of the day was fast dying
away ; and a few straggling groups scattered here and there
through the long, wide street of the town — the only one it
boasted — were almost the only persons who arrested my eye.
The sun was sinking, and threw his lingering beams into the
neat but ill-furnished apartment where I was sitting. To avoid
the glare of his beams, I changed my position, and this gave
me a more uninterrupted view of the long street above referred
to, which threw its termination into the green fields of the
country. Casting ray eyes in this direction, I beheld a chariot-and-
four coming toward me, enveloped in a complete cloud of dust,
and the panting horses of which were urged on with tremen-
* The catholic ban-ister, a gentleman quite clever and important enough
to be treated of apart. For the present, I shall merely record of him that on^
of his favorite theories is, that no rank Orangeman ever " dies game." He
can tell you the exact moment when Doctor Duigenan began to roar out for a
priest. He has a large stock of moriuaiy anecdotes illusti-atihg his general
doctrine, and he relates them with true Sardonic vivaritv.
t To this sketch, originally published in .July, 1823, I annex a later por
trait, by Mr. Cunan, with addifions by Mr. Sheil, which appeared in March,
1829, after Mr. O'Connell's being elected M. P. for Clare, and on the eve of
cathohc emancipation, carried in the following month, by Wellington.  M.

HIS OUTEE ASPECT. 91
dous rapidity. Struck with the unexpected arrival of such a
vehicle in that place, I leaned out of the window to observe
its destination, and beheld it still rolling hurriedly along, and
sweeping round the angle of the street toward the inn with an
increased violence. If my reader has been much used to trav
elling, he will be aware that the moment a postillion comes in
sight of an inn, he is sure to call forth the mettle of his horses
— perhaps to show off the blood of his cattle.* This was the
case at present, and a quick gallop brought the vehicle in thun
dering noise to the door, where, Shenstone says, is to be found
" the warmest welcome." The animals were sharply checked,
the door was flung open, and the occupier threw himself hur
riedly out.
"Bring out four horses instantly," was the command he ut
tered in the loud voice of haste and authority.
The inmate of the carriage was about five feet eleven and a
balf inches high, and wore a portly, stout, hale, and agreeable
appearance. His shoulders were broad, and his legs stoutly
built, and, as he at that moment stood, one arm in his side-
pocket, the other thrust into a waistcoat, which was almost
completely unbuttoned from the heat of the day, he would
have made a good figure for the rapid but fine-finishing pencil
of Harlowe.t His head was covered with a light fur-cap,
which, partly thrown back, displayed that breadth of forehead
-* The readers of fiction will be reminded of one of Miss Bdgeworth's
stories, in which she raakes an Irish postillion, whose horses were weak and
weary after a long journey, rally them up as he entered a gentleman's demesne,
which he called having " a gallop for the avenue." — M.
t George Henry Hariowe, born in London in 1787, was first the pupil and
afterward the rival of Sir Thomas Lawrence, the eminent portrait-painter. He
painted some clever historical pictures, of which the best known is '-* The Trial
of Queen Catherine," in which there are portraits of Mrs. Siddons, with her
brothers, John and Charles Kemble, and other theatrical celebrities. Of this
even an engraving is rare and valuable. The original hangs, neglected and
uncared for, in a store-loft, in Soho Square, at London, belonging to a piano
forte maker. After visiting Italy, where his accuracy as a copiest, and his re
markable facility in original works, excited much admiration, and obtained him,
at Eome and at Florence, the highest honors artists could bestow on him,
Hariowe retiu-ned to London, and died there, a few months after, in 1819. His
skill, in rapidly sketching a likeness and in seizing the character of a face, has
rarely been equalled. — M.

92 DANIEL O'COKNELL.
which I have never yet seen absent from real talent. His eyes
appeared to me, at that instant, to be between a light-blue and
a gray color. His face was pale and sallow, as if the turmoil
of business, the shade of care, or the study of midnight, had
chased away the- glow of health and youth. Around his mouth
played a cast of sarcasm, which, to a quick eye, at once be
trayed satire ; and it appeared as if the lips could be easily
resolved into the risus sardonicus. His head was somewhat
larger than that which a modern doctrine denominates the
" medium size ;'' and it was well supported by a stout and well-
foundationed pedestal, which was based on a breast, full, round,
prominent, and capacious. The eye was shaded by a brow
which I thought would be more congenial to sunshine than
storm ; and the nose was neither Grecian nor Roman, but was
large enough to re^idily admit him into the chosen band of that
" immortal rebel" (as Lord Byron called Cromwell) who chose
his body-guard with capacious lungs and noses, as affording
greater capability of undergoing toil and hardship. Altogether
he appeared to possess strong physical powers.
He was dressed in an olive-brown surtout, black trowsers,
and black -(vaistcoat. His cravat was carelessly tied, and the
knot almost undone, from the heat of the day ; and as he stood
with his hand across his bosom, and his eyes bent on the
ground, he -was the very picture of a "public character," hur
rying away on some important matter which required aU of
personal exertion and mental energy. Often as I have seen
him since, I have never beheld him in so striking or pictorial
an attitude.
" Quick with the horses !" was his hurried ejaculation as he
recovered himself from his revery,. and flung himself into his
carriage. The -ndiip was cracked, and away -went the chariot
with the same cloud of dust, and the same tremendous pace.
I did not see him pay any money. He did not enter the
inn. He caUed for no refreshment, nor did he utter a word to
any person around him. He seemed to bo obeyed by instinct;
and whUe I marked the chariot thundering along the street,
which had all its then spectators turned on the cloud-enveloped
vehicle, my curiosity was intensely excited, and I instantly

AS A MOB-SPEAKEE. 93
descended to learn the name of the extraordinary stranger.
Most mal-apropos, however, were my inquiries. Unfortunately,
the landlord was out; the waiter could not tell me his name ;
and the hostler " knew nothing whatsome'ver of him, except
that he was in the most uncommonest hurry." A short time,
however, satisfied my curiosity.
The next day brought me to the capital of the county where
I was then on a visit. It was the assize time. Very fond of
oratory, I went to the courthouse to hear the forensic eloquence
of the "Home Circuit." I had scarcely seated myself, when
the same grayish eye, broad forehead, portly figure, and strong
tone of voice, arrested mj^ attention. He was just on the mo
ment of addressing the jrfty, and I anxiously waited to hear
the speech of a man who had already so strongly interested
me. After looking at the judge steadily for a moment, he be
gan his speech exactly in the following pronunciation : " My
Lurrd — Gentlemen of the jury."
" Who speaks ?" instantly demanded I.
" Counsellor O'Connell," -was the reply.
" Why, he only arrived last night ?"
"Late last night, and has had scarcely a moment to con
over his brief. But listen."
I at once fixed my attention. As I do not write short-hand,
I can not give the detail of his speech ; but his delivery I can
criticise, and can here write dowri.
Were O'Connell addressing a mixed assembly where the
lower orders predominated, I scarcely know any one who
would have such a power of wielding the passions. He has a
knack of speaking to a mob which I have never heard exceed
ed. His manner has at times the rhodomontade of Hunt ;*
but he is infinitely superior, of course, to this well-known dem
ocrat in choice of language and power of expression. The
same remark may apply, were I to draw any comparison be
tween him and another well-known mob-speaker, Cobbett.t
* Henry Hunt, for some years the leader of the " Radical Eefoi-m" party in
England.— M.
t William Cobbett, who will be remembered as the most inconsistent poli
tician, and the most nervous writer of English prose, his time produced. — M.

94 DANIEL o'cONNELL.
Were he opposed to these two persons in any assembly of the
people, he would infallibly prove himself the victor. A balcony
outside a high window, and a large mob beneath him, is the
very spot for O'Connell. There he would be best seen, and
his powers and person best observed ; but were he in the House
of Commons, I do not think I am incorrect -when I say that
he would make little impression on the House, supposing he
were heard with every prepossession in his favor.* His action
wants grace and suavity — qualities so eminently fascinating
in an elegant and classical speaker, but which perhaps are
overlooked in an " orator of the people." The motions of his
body are often sharp and angular. His arms swing about un
gracefully ; and at times the right»hand plays slovenly with
his watch-chain.
Though I shall not, perhaps, find many to agree with me,
yet I am free to confess that he does not appear to me to pos
sess that very rare gift — genuine satire. He wants the culti
vated grace of language which his compeer, Sheil, possesses,
and the brilliancy of metaphor. None is there else, however,
peer or commoner, who can compete with him in the Catholic
Association. His language is often coarse, and seldom elegant
Strong, fierce, and perhaps bold, it often is ; but vituperation
and personality makg up too much of the materiel. His voice
is sometimes harsh and dissonant ; and I could wish more of
that round, full, mellow tone, which is essential to a good
delivery, and which so captivates the ear. " The voice is the
key which unlocks the heart," says Madam Roland. I believe
it. Let the reader listen to the fine round voice of Lord Chief
Justice Bushe, and then let him hear the sometimes grating
tones of O'ConneU, and he will soon perceive the difference.^
¦ The voice of the latter much reminds me of the harsh thinness
of Mr. J. D. Latouche's f (whose conversational tone, by-the-by,
¦• This was a "foregone conclusion" to which facts gave a strong negative.
O'Connell became one of the best speakers in the House of Commons, and his
speech, in 1831, on the Reform Bill, was the ablest on the subject. As " Mem
ber for aU Ireland," with forty votes at his command, his power in the House
wae great. — M.
t Mr. Latouche was an eminent banker in Dublin, who sometimes tried to
take a leading part in politics. — M.

PLEADING BEFOEE THE VICEEOT. 95
is far beyond his oratorical one); and yet the coolness and
the astuteness which the latter gentleman possesses in an
argument, would be no bad substitute for the headlong impet
uosity and violent sarcasm in which O'ConneU sometimes
indulges. ?
As he can not clothe his language in the same elegance as
Sheil, he consequently can not give the same insinuation to
his discourses. In this respect, his contemporary has greatly
the advantage. Sheil gives us the poeti^ of -eloquence —
O'Connell gives us the prose. The attempts of the latter at wit
are clumsy, while the former can bring both that and metaphor
to his aid, and he often uses them with much effect. O'Con
nell, however, can attempt humor with effect, and he has a
peculiar tact in suiting this humor to the Irish people. I have
not often seen a good exordium from O'Connell — an integral
portion of a discourse which it is extremely difficult to make ;
and I think his perorations want grace, point, and force, and
that which the Italians would denominate " espressivo."
I shall follow him still farther.
The next place at which I heard the arch-leader of Cathol
icism, was at the council-chamber in Dublin castle, where he
was employed to argue a case before the then Viceroy, Marquis
WeUesley.* His speech, voice, action, eye (for nothing in
oratory escapes me), are as clearly before me at present as
they were on that day; and. if this should catch his eye, I
would call it to his memory by saying it was one of the best
speeches he ever made. Mr. Goulburn,t who sat at the
* Kichard CoUey Wellesley, eldest son of the earl of Mornington (composer
of the well-known glee, " Here in cool grot"), and brother of Arthur, duke of
Wellington, was created Marquis Wellesley for his services in India, as
Governor-General, and was twice Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.^ He died in
1842, in the eighty-third year of his age. — M.
t Henry Goulburn, now M. P. for Cambridge University, was born in 1784,
and, besides initiatoi-y offices, held the Colonial Seals from 1812 till 1821 : was.
Secretai-y for Ireland (and very unpopular) fi-om December, 1821 till 1828:
Chancellor of the Exchequer from 1828 till 1830: Secretary for the Home
Department from December, 1834 to April, 1835 (Peel's brief administration),
and again Chancellor of the Exchequer, under Peel, firom 1841 to 1846
Though a Conservative, he voted for Reform and Free Trade. An ultra-Antl

96 DANIEL o'cONNELL.
lowermost end of the table, on the right of the Lord-Lieuten
ant, was busUy employed in taking notes. The person who
sat next the Chief-Secretary, was Lord (then Mr.) Plunket ;
but he merely kept his eyes fixed on the broad green cloth
which spread amply before him, and, with his f#»ns folded,
scarcely moved from that position the entire time. Lord
Wellesley was at the top of the table, dressed in his orders;
and, as he was of the same opinion in politics with the person
who was speaking, he seemed to listen to him with much
pleasure. His words, tone (if voice, and action, seemed more
strictly attended to than when I heard him at Wicklow : aud
even his step in the ante-rooms, on passing to the chamber, was
also guarded. Into tbat chamber be could not come iu the
same hurried careless manner, in which I have sometimes seen
him fling himself into court. One day, while lounging in the
latter place, I saw him rapidly fling aside the green curtain at
the doorway; and as bedashed down the benches to the front
of the bar methought he would have almost strode over the
thick files of lawyers, attorneys, clerks, witnesses, &c., who
chanced to be in his way.
In walking through the streets, he pushes along in the
same careless, democratic manner; and his stout, tall figure,
enables him to shoulder aside the crowds that might oppose
his hurried march. He seems not to recollect that the slow
pace is the pace of the gentleman; on he goes, business and
emancipation borne mightily on his broad shoulders ; and
stops not, nor stays, till he gets to the Four Courts ; from the
Four Courts he is then off' to the Association rooms — from
the Association to the Four Courts back again — fi-om the
Courts to attend some popular assembly, or keep an appoint
ment — from the assembly to his house to dine — then a hearty
dinner and a temperate glass — business, parchments, briefs,
attorneys' clerks, and "unfledged laAvyers" afterward — retir
ing early to bed — and then, ne.xt day, beliold him going
through the same endless, important, and weight/ routine of.
business again.
Catholic for many years, he voted for CathoUc Emancipation, in 1829, at the
Mdding of his master, the Duke of Wellington. — M.

A DAEING ACr. 97
The setting-up for Clare was the most daring, and the bold
est step which this man ever took, or ever will take. Were he
to live a century, he could do nothing which would show so
much of daring and intrepid talent. He has been blamed for
it ; but the power, and the ambition, and the boldness, which
it has evinced, makes me admire where I am otherwise obliged
to condemn. It was one of those steps that (to use the words
of Voltaire) " vulgar men would term rash, but great men would
call bold." Let me distinguish it from his mission to England.*
This last was a foolish step, but the first was an intrepid one.
Men of talent forsook him in tbe last, but they supported and
abided by him in the first. In short, the whole of Ireland was
thrown into astonishment.
The last time I saw O'ConneU was in St. James's park. He
had a long scroll under his arm — mayhap that which has
since caused such controversy, " the wings." The next time
I see him will perhaps be in that, to me, most interesting spot
in_London, or in all England — St. Stephen's.
* The visit of the Catholic Deputation to England in 1825, of which a full
account is in these sketches. — M.
Vol. L— 5

WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLUNKET.
Mr. Plunket's father was a Presbyterian clergyman in the
north of Ireland.* He died during the infancy of his children,
leaving them and his widow without any provision : but learns
ing has always been cheap in Ireland, and Mrs. Plunket con
trived to procure for her sons a classical education. The sub
ject of the present notice was, at an early age, befriended hy
the late Lord Avonmore. I have conversed with one or two
persons who recollect to have seen him a constant inmate at
his Lordship's house, and their report of him is, that " he was
a clever, hard-headed hoy, very attentive to his studies, and
very negligent of his person." He passed in due course through
Trinity College, Dublin ; and was called to the Irish bar in
1787. His professional advancement was rapid and steady.
The first public notice that I can find of his name is upon the
trial of the Sheareses, in 1798 :t he was associated with Cur-
" He eventually settled in Dublin, where he became stated ininister of a con
gregation. He was fond of polemical discussion, but when it was becoming
fierce, as too often is the case, would say, " Well, let us leave it to Bridget,"
who was a simple-minded lass from Wales. Her reply commonly was, " Well,
sir, if you will have my judgment, I do think that love to God and love to man
are not fuel for hell-fire." There is philosophy, as well as truth and humanity,
in this plain declaration. — M.
t John and Henry Sheares were natives of Cork. They were well educated
and well connected. John, the younger, who was a republican, joined the Uni
ted Irishmen in 1796. Hemy, a man of amiable disposition and easily influ
enced, foUowed the example. Both had been to France, at tlie taking of the
Bastille ; and John was seen, on his return, to flourish, with exultation, a hand
kerchief stained with the blood of Louis XVI. John Sheai-es was very active
in the preparations for the outbreak in 1798, writing the greater part of the va
rious addresses issued by the Directory. The Sheares's accession to the popular

TRIAL OF THK !:rnCARK^*KS. 99
ran and Ponsonby in tbe defence of tbe unfortunate brothers,
and, like tbem, vainly urged every topic tbat legal ingenuity
could devise to avert tbeir doom. I am not aware tbat Mr,
Plunket appeared as counsel for tbe prisoners in any subse
quent state-trial. He became a member of tbe Irisb Parlia
ment in 1797.* On tbe question of tbe Union, be took tbe side
of bis country : bis speecbes on tbat occasion contain many fine
specimens of reasoning, invective, and deliberate entbusiasm.
A single sentence will convey an idea of tbeir general spirit :
"For me, I do not hesitate to declare, tbat if tbe madness of
cause, which was soon suspected, was ascertained by a militia-captain, named
Armstrong, who wormed himself into their confidence, to betray them to the
Government. On the evidence of Armstrong, who had been on visiting terms ^t
their house, and an accessory in their councils, the case against the brothers
was proved — though it condemned himself to an immortality of infamy. The
trial came off, on July 12, 1798, before Lord Chief-Justice Carleton and four
other Judges. Curran, Plunket, Etnd Ponsonby, were the chief counsel for the
prisoners. After the trial had lasted sixteen hours, Cmxan, exhausted in mind
and body, requested its postponement until the next morning. Attorney-Gen
eral Toler (afterward Lord Norbm-y), on the part of the Crown, refused to consent
to any adjourament. At midnight, therefore, Curran had to speak ; and, wea
ried as he was, made an eloquent defence. The next morning, at eight o'clock,
a verdict of " Guilty" was returned. The brothers rushed into each other's
arms. When called up for judgment, at three o'clock the same day, Henry,
overcome by emotion, was unable to speak. John, more firm, made only one
request, that " the husband, the father, the brother, the son, all comprised in
one person," should receive, not a pardon, which it was not in the power of
the Court to grant, but a brief respite. The request availed not. Toler moved
that the sentence of death should he carried into execution the next day — and
so it was, in front of the prison in Green street. By the common law of Eng
land, two witnesses were necessary to convict in cases of treason ; and so Coke
and Blackstone have held ; but the Irish Court decided that only one was requi
site in L'eland, and that one was Armstrong the informer. So, as CuiTan stated,
" that which in Ireland might be legally done, in England it would be murder
to do." At present, the law is the same in Ireland aa in England. — Eventu
ally, the remains of these unfortunate men were deposited in the vaults beneath
the Church of St. Michan's, Dublin, where the soil and the atmosphere resist
decomposition, and might there he seen, for over forty years, by any one who
paid the sexton. In January, 1842, the bodies were saved from further pub
licity by being placed in coifins of oak and lead. — M.
* Plunket was brought into Parliaraent by the Earl of Charlemont (bom in
1728, died 1799), whose name will live, in history, as the popular leader of the
Irish Volunteers of 1782. — M.

100 WILLIAM CiiNVNGIIAM PLUNKKT.
the revolutionist should tell me, 'You must sacrifice British
connection,' I would adhere to that connection in preference to
the independence of my country ; but I have as little hesita
tion in saying, that, if the wanton ambition of a minister should
assault the freedom of Ireland and compel me to the alterna
tive, I would fling the connection to the winds, and I would
clasp the independence of my country to my heart" But in
those days, as was remarked, "the voice of the patriot in the
senate was answered by no echo from without." The nation
was panic-struck ; gold and promises were profusely scattered ;
the majority of the " Honorable House" were impatient to be
sold, though the wages -of their sin was death. The people
had nothing to offer but gratitude and fame — the minister had
titles, ofiices, and pensions ; and the Irish Parliament wa«
knocked down to the highest bidder.
In 1803, Mr. Plunket appeared as one of the counsel for the
prosecution on the trial of Mr. Robert Emmett.* One particu-
* There were three Emmetts, sons of Dr. Emmett, who had been state-physi
cian at Dublin, and was an extreme libera] in his political opinions. Temple,
the eldest, who distinguished himself in the University and at the bar, died at
the age of thirty. Thomas Addis, born in 1764, also became a barrister, got
involved in the revolt of 1798, was allowed to expati-iate himself, an-ived at
New Yorlt in 1804, where he was at once admitted to practice (by special dis
pensation, although opposed, Phillips says, by Chancellor Kent), became Attor^
ney-General of New York in 1812, and died in 1827, greatly respected and
lamented. Robert, who was only twenty-three years old, joined in the insur
rection of June 23, 1803 ; was tried, condemned, and executed — lamented even
by multitudes wiio disliked his politics. Robert Emmett's defence, as it is '
called, though actually spoken after condemnation, when called on to receive
judgment, is one of the most touching and pathetic specimens of eloquence
ever uttered. In that, he alluded to his father's early political instructions,
when he exclaimed, " If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the
concerns of those who were dear to them in this transitory scene, dear shade
of my venerated father! look down on your suffering son, and see has he for a
moment deviated from those moral and paft-iotic principles which you so early
inculcatpd into his youthful mind, and for which he has now to offer up his
life !" And who can forget the pathetic earnestness of his n quest that no man
would write his epitaph, and the hope that his tomb would remain uninscribed
until other men and other times could do justice to his chai-acter ! " When my
country takes her place," said he, " among the nations of .the earth, then, and
not till then, let my epitaph be written." — M.

TRIAL OF EOBEET EMMTCTT. 101
lar of his conduct on that occasion exposed him to great, and,
as it appears to me, most unmerited reproach. The unfortu
nate prisoner made no defence — in truth, he had none to
m'ake : he produced no evidence, and his counsel announced
that they would state no case to the jury. On this ground,
they contended that the counsel for the Crown should not be
allowed to address the jury a second time. Mr. Plunket in
sisted upon his right : the Court decided the question in his
favor, and he proceeded to comment at length upon the con
duct of the prisoner, and upon the wildness and guilt of the
conspiracy of which he had been the projector. Emmett's
youth and talents, and his deportments on his trial, excited uni
versal sympathy : almost all, even those who would not con
sent to spare him, pitied him as a victim — many admired and
deplored him as a martyr. The latter exclaimed against Mr.
Plunket's exercise of his privilege to speak to the evidence, as
an act of gratuitous inhumanity. I confess I see the matter in
quite another light : Mr. Plunket was a public man, whose
opinions had great weight with tbe community ; and I conceive
it to have been both natural and laudable that he should have
seized the opportunity of reprobating, in the most emphatic
terms, the visionary projects of revolntion that still prevailed.
Curran, from a similar impulse of public duty, had done the
same thing, a few days before, on the defence of Owen Kir
wan, where we find him digressing from the immediate case
before the jury, into an elaborate and glowing exposition of
the guilt and hopelessness of attempting to better the condition
of Ireland by force. But the enemies of Mr. Plunket were not
satisfied with a general assertion that his conduct had been
unnecessarily harsh. To afSx a deep stigma upon his charac
ter, it was industriously circulated that he had been a constant
guest of Emmett's father, at whose table he had inculcated po
litical principles upon the son which now brought him to the
grave ; and, to give credit to the calumny, a passage was inter
polated in the report of Emmett's address to the Court,* in which
* No allusion to Plunket was made by Eobert Emmett — and Phillips, who
examined the charge very closely, declares " Emmett never did so with truth,
nor could he have done so with truth." So far from being on intimate terms

102 WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLUNKET.
the dying enthusiast was made to pronounce a bitter invec
tive against "the viper that his father had nurtured in his
bosom." Mr. Plunket was compelled to resort to a public vindication
of his character. He instituted legal proceedings against a
London journal in which the libel was inserted, and obtained
a verdict :* he also published an afiidavit, positively denying
every material fact in the accusation. He might have gone
farther, and have truly sworn that the accusation was never
made until after the supposed accuser was in his grave. I
have conversed with several who were present at the trial, one
or two of them friends and admirers of Emmett : they all
solemnly assured me, that not a syllable escaped his lips bear
ing the remotest allusion to the charge; and the omission in
Mr. Plunket's afiidavit of this conclusive circumstance, was
pointed out to me as a singular absence of sagacity, in a man
so notoriously sharp-sighted where the concerns of others are
confided to his care. I should not have dwelt thus long upon
this transaction, were it not that " Mr. Plunket's conduct to
Robert Emmett" is, to this day, frequently adverted to by per
sons unacquainted with the particulars, as an indelible blemish
upon his reputation, t
with the Emmett family, it is stated (in the Memoir of Plunket in the Dublin
University Magazine for March, 1840) that he did not know them personally,
and had only once met any of them, Thomas Addis Emmett, at a public din
ner. — M.
* It was against William Cobbett that Plunket brought the action, and ob
tained smart damages. This may account for Cobbett's constant and bitter
attacks on him, in later years. In the Union debate, in 1800, Plunket, who
was an Anti-Unionist, made a very striking speech, which contained the follow
ing strong sentence, among others : " For my part, I will resist it [the Union]
to the last gasp of my existence, and with the last drop of my blood ; and when
I feel the hour of my dissolution approaching, I will, like the father of Hanni
bal, take my children to the altar, and swear them to eternal hostility against
the invaders of their country's freedom." Thirty years later, when Plunket had
accepted a peerage and office from the Saxons whom he had thus denounced,
Cobbett had fair game in him, and did not spare the lash. Enumerating the
variety of public offices, in Church and State, to which the Plunkets had been
appointed, Cobbett constantly spoke of the Hannibals and their father Hamil
car Plunket ! — M.
t Charles Phillips, who defends him, yet admits that Plunket "made a very

HIS OFFICIAL ANTECEDENTS. 103
Mr. Plunket was made solicitor-general in 1803, and attor
ney-general and a privy counsellor in 1805. He retained his
place when the whigs came into office, in 1806. I believe that
this was the commencement of his connection with Lord G-ren-
ville, to whose party he has since adhered. After the death
of Mr. Fox, it was intimated to him that the new administra
tion had no intention of superseding him, but he preferred to
follow the fortunes of Lord Grenville, and resigned. Since
1812, be has sat in the Imperial Parliament, as a member for
the university of Dublin.
Mr. Plunket has for some years past confined himself to the
Court of Chancery, where he holds the same pre-eminence
that Romillyt did in England. Of all the eminent lawyers I
unnecessary speech, as Emmett scarcely denied his guilt," but Plunket's own
excuse was that he thought himself called upon not so much to address the
Jury, as the country through the Jury. In I8I9, he again said that " the times
rendered it necessary." Phillips, again referring to the case in I85I, declares
that if a speech were necessary it should have been made, not by Plunket but
by Mr. M'Cleland, who as solicitor-general was next in rotation. It was also
said that Plimket had volunteered his exertions : on the contrary, they were
specially solicited by the first law officer of the crown. Dr. Sandes, after
ward Bishop of Cashel, who from his well-deserved popularity, had the repre
sentation of Dublin University in his hands, was canvassed by Plunket, during
his contest with John Wilson Croker, and frankly said he would oppose him,
unless he «ould clear up his conduct on Emmett's trial. The explanation was
satisfactory, and Sandes supported Plunket, who was elected by a majority of
five. On the other hand, the eulogistic biographer in the Dublin University
Magazine, while he acquits Plutiket of the main charge of ingratitude, con
demns his " eager zeal," and adds that after the two officers of the Crown did not
think it necessary to make a single remark, after the prisoner's case had closed,
Plunket " assailed the sad enthusiast, in that hour of his deepest suffering, on
a theme of invective which might have been well spared." The fact seems to
be, Plunket, who had begun to look office-ward, seized the opportunity of
showing that his own strong and hostile opinions had softened down into re
spect for the ruling authorities, and for good order, as sustained by the law. — M.
* Sir Samuel Eomilly, alike distinguished at the bar and in Parliament, was
bom in 1757. He was called to the bar in 1783, and soon obtained extensive
Chancery practice. He was Solicitor-General under the Grenville ministry in
1806, and was knighted. In Parliament he was distinguished for his attempts
to reform the criminal law. He committed suicide, November 2, 1818. One
of his sons. Sir John Eomilly, a very able equity lawyer, is now Master of the
Bolls in England.— M.

104 WILLLAM CONYNGHAM PLUNKET.
have heard, he seemed tome to be the most admirably qualified
for the department of his profession in which he shines. His
mind is at once subtile and comprehensive : his language clear,
copious, and condensed : his powers of reasoning are altogether
wonderful. Give him the most complicated and doubtful
case to support — with an array of apparently hostile decisions
to oppose him at every step — the previous discussion of the
question has probably satisfied you that the arguments of his
antagonists are neither to be answered nor evaded — they
have fenced round the rights of their clients with all the great
names in equity — Hardwicke, Camden, Thurlow, Eldon :* Mr.
* Edward Thurlow, bom in 1735, and called to the bar in 1758, was made
Solicitor-General in 1770, and Attomey-General in 1771. Li Parliament, he
supported the ministers in their anti-American measures. In June, 1778, he
was elevated to the ofl&ce of Lord-Chancellor, and was created Lord Thurlow.
In 1783, he quitted office, when the Coalition Ministry came in, but was reap
pointed on Pitt's becoming Premier. In 1793, on a quarrel with Pitt, he again
resigned, went into private life, and died in September, 1806. He was a good
lawyer, but brusque rti his manners. — Charles Pratt (afterward Earl of Cam
den) was the son of Sir John Pratt, Chief-Justice of the King's Bench in the
time of George I., and was bom in 1714. He slowly but gradually got into
business at the bar. In 1757, he was appointed Attorney-General, at the in
stance of the elder Pitt, and entered Parliament. In 1761, he was made Chief-
Justice of the Common Pleas, and soon showed his independence by deciding,
in the case of Wilkes, that general waiTants were illegal. In 1765, the Rock
ingham Ministry called him to the Upper House, as Lord Camden. As a peer,
his course was independent, and he denied the right of Great Britain, as claimed
by the Government, " to impose laws upon the American colonies in all cases
whatsoever." In July, 1766, Lord Camden was made Lord-ChanceUor. In
1770, opposing his colleagues in the Ministry, who were hmi-ying the crisis
with America, Lord Camden quitted office. Here ceased his judicial career,
but he was a political combatant for twenty-four years longer — always con
demning the war with America, always defending the liberty of the subject.
In 1782, he entered the Rockingham Ministry as President of the Council,
which, with a slight interval under the Coalition Ministiy, he continued to hold
until his death. He was created Earl and Viscount in 1786, and died in April,
1794, aged eighty. He was one of the greatest constitutional lawyers England
ever possessed. — John Scott, afterward Earl of Eldon, was born in 1751. His
elder brother, afterward Lord Stowell, was bom six years earlier. John Scott
was educated at Oxford, where he obtained a fellowship in 1767, which he for
feited in 1772 (celibacy being imposed upon the fellows of English colleges),
by running off and marrying the daughter of a rich banker at Newcastle, his ¦
native place. Suon after, he had to read the law lectures at Oxford, as deputy

RATIONALE OF HTS PLKABINa. 105
Plunket rises. You are deeply attentive, rather from curios
ity to witness a display of hopeless dexterity, than from any
uncertainty ahout the event. He commences by some general
undisputed principle of law, that seems perhaps, at the first
view, not to bear the remotest relation to the matter in contro
versy ; but to this he appends another and another, until by a
regular series of connected propositions, he brings it down to
the very point before the court ; and insists, nay demonstrates,
that the court can not decide against him without violating
one of its own most venerated maxims. Nothing can be more
masterly than the manner in which all this is done. There is
for the Vinerian professor; and, ludicrously enough, the first lecture was on the
statute 4 and 5 Philip and Mary, ch. 8 : "Of young men running away with maid
ens." He had one hundred and forty students as auditors, all of whora giggled,
as well they might, at the difference between the professor's theoiy and prac
tice. Called to the bar in 1776, Scott joined the Northern Circuit, for some
years with ill-succesa. In 1780, the reversal of one of the Master of the Rolls'
judgments, by Lord-Chancellor Thurlow, upon Scott's argument, drew him into
notice. Further success, before a committee of the Commons, on an election
case, which lasted fifteen days (with a retainer of fifty guineas, a daily fee
often guineas, and an evening-consultation fee of five guineas), gave him repu
tation, as well as money and hope. In 1783, he was made King's Counsel,
with Erskine. At this time he entered Parliament, where he and Erskine
made their maiden speeches in the same debate, but on opposite sides — Scott
opposing and Erskine defending Fox's India Bill. In 1788, he was made So
licitor-General, and knighted — and Attomey-General in 1793, which office he
retained to the year 1799, conducting the state tzials of Home Tooke, Hardy,
and Thelwall, for high-treason. In July, 1799, he became Chief-Justice of the
Common Pleas, and was created Baron Eldon. He was then making between
ten and twelve thousand pounds sterling a year by his practice ; but if the salary
of a Judge was much less, so. was the labor. In this new capacity, he proved
himself in. every respect equal to the duties. In 1801, he became Lord-Chan
cellor, by the King's own request, and abandoned the Common Pleas with re
gret. In February, 1806, when the Grenville and Fox Cabinet came in, Lord
Eldon quitted office, was succeeded by Lord Erskine, and returned in April,
1807, to continue until 1827, when Canning becarae Premier, and Sir John
Copley,,then created Lord Lyndhurst, received the Great Seal. In 1821, Lord
Eldon was made Earl and Viscount. As a Judge, he never had a superior, if
he had an equal, in Westminster Hall. His fault was delay, caused by his
doubting. On political questions he had no delay, but was ready, intolerant,
and unscrupulous. He accumulated immense wealth, and died in January,
1838.— M. 5*

106 WILLIAM CONTNGHAM PLUNKET.
no ostentation of ingenuity and research. Everything is clear,
simple, and familiar : you assent without a struggle to each
separate conclusion. It is only when you are brought to the
ultimate result, that you startle at discovering tbe consummate
skill of the logician, who, by wily and imperceptible ap
proaches, has gained a vantage-point from which he can
descend upon his adversaries, and compel them to abandon a
position that ¦was deemed impregnable.
But Lords Hardwicke, Thui4ow, Camden, Eldon, &c., are
said to be against him. The advocate accordingly proceeds
to examine each of these authorities in detail ; he analyses
their language ; by distinctions that seem natural and obvious,
but which in reality are most subtile, he shows how capable it
is of various interpretations ; he confronts the construction
contended for by conflicting decisions of the same judges on
other and similar occasions; he points out unsuspected anom
alies that would arise from adopting the interpretation of his
adversaries, and equally unsuspected accordances with general
principles, that would follow his own. He thus goes on until,
by reiterated processes of matchless sagacity, he has either
neutralized or brought over to support himself, all the author
ities upon which his opponents most firmly relied ; and he sits
down, leaving the court, if not a convert to his opinion, at
least grievously perplexed to detect and explain the fallacies
upon which it rests.
Mr. Plunket is not said to be a profound lawyer ; he cites
fewer cases than any other counsel at the Irish bar; and on
common occasions, frequently contents himself with merely
commenting upon those adduced against him. His supremacy
is altogether intellectual. He leaves to others the technical
drudgery of wading through tomes and indexes in search of
legal saws and " modern instances." The moment a question
is submitted to him, his mind intuitively applies all the great
principles that are favorable or hostile : these he has firmly
fixed, and scientifically arranged in his memory, and so far
may be said to be never unprepared. For the rest he depends
upon the resources of a talent that never fails him — upon his
resistless vigor, where he is right and sincere — upon his formi-

HIS RHF.TORIC. 107
dahle ingenuity and sophistry, where he can not venture to be
candid — upon his extemporaneous power of going through the
most intricate processes of thought with all the ease and famil
iarity of ordinary discourse ; and most of all, upon a rapid
apprehension, which grasps and secures the entire of any prop
osition of which a single particle may chance to flit across
his mind — a perfection of faculty that enables him to draw
the most unexpected conclusions from the topics adduced
against him, and thus to render all the industry of his antag
onists subservient to his own occasions.
This, though an imperfect sketch, will convey some general
ideas of this eminent advocate ; but there is one peculiarity
in his powers, which to be adequately comprehended must be
actually witnessed. I allude to his capacity (in which he ex
ceeds every public speaker I ever heard) of pouring out, I would
almost say indefinitely, a continuous, uuintermitted volume
of thought and language. In this respect, I look upon Mr.
Plunket's going through along and important argument in the
Court of Chancery to be a most extraordinary exhibition of
human intellect. For hours he will go on and on, with un
wearied rapidity, arguing, defining, illustrating, separating in
tricate facts, laying down subtile distinctions, prostrating an
objection here, pouncing upon a fallacy there, then retracing
his steps, and restating in some original point of view his gen
eral proposition; then flying off again to the outskirts of the
question, and dealing his desultory blows with merciless reit
eration wherever an inch of ground remains to he cleared ; and
during the whole of this, not only does not his vigor flag for a
single instant, but his mind does not even pause for a second
for a topic, an idea, or an expression. This velocity of crea
tion, arrangement, and delivery, is quite astonishing; and what
adds to your wonder is, that it appears to be achieved without
an effort. Mass after mass of argument is thrown off, convey
ed in phraseology vigorous, appropriate, and succinct, while
the speaker, as if the mere minister and organ of some hidden
power, that saves him the cost of laborious exertion, appears
solely anxious to impress upon others his own reliance upon
the force of frhat seems to come unsought.

108 WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLITNKET.
This singular command over his great powers, coupled with
his imposing exterior and masculine intonations, gives extra
ordinary weight to all he says. From his unsuspected earnest
ness of tone and manner, you would often imagine that his
zeal for his client was only secondary to a deeper anxiety
tbat the court should not violate the uniformity of its decisions
by establishing a precedent fraught with anomaly and danger,
while the authoritative ease and perspicuity with which he
states and illustrates his opinions gives him the air, as it were,
of some high legal functionary appearing on behalf of the pub
lic, not so much to debate the question before the court as to
testify to the law tliatshould decide it. So that in respect to
this quality of apparent conviction and good faith, we may
well apply to Mr. Plunket the words of Cicero in commenda
tion of one of the ancient orators of Rome; nor will the illus
tration be found to fail from any want of coincidence in the
personal characters of the two men : " In Scauri oratione, sa-
pientis hominis et recti, graritas sum-ma et naturalis q-ucedam
inerat auctoriias, non et causain, sed ut testimo-nium dicere pu-
tares."* But although Mr. Plunket is thus skilful in giving plausibil
ity to reasonings that do not satisfy himself, I think it just
to add (what I have heard asserted) that even his own fine
understanding is often the dupe of his other faculties, and that,
in the hurry and fervor of argumentation, his judgment, with
all its vigilance, can not escape the snares his ingenuity has
weaved for others. I have even fancied at times (when in the
course of a cause some unexpected point of law is started) that
I have observed his argumentative devices in the very act of
imposing themselves upon his mind as irrefutable conclusions.
He rises to make, perhaps, a single observation, and is about
to resume his place, when a new topic in support of his argu
ment flashes across his mind. As he proceeds to state it, fresh
principles and illustrations crowd in to defend him in his posi-
* "The speeches of Scaurus, whp was a wise and virtuous man, were distin
guished by the utmost dignity, and by a certain natural imposing authority
which led his afidience to suppose that he appeared less in t}ie cbaracter of an
advocate than of a witness."

raCECISION OF JUDGMENT. 109
tion : an incidental remark is thus expanded into an elaborate
piece of reasoning, during the progress of which he gradually
becomes more confident and earnest, until, from the intense
ardor with which he follows up each successive advantage, he
finally works himself into a conviction that all the merits of
the question are on his side.
But it is only when he is the retained advocate of a particu
lar party, whose claims he has to sustain in open court, that
Mr. Plunket is subject to this species of mental deception. In
the cold and cautious meditation of the closet, when he has to
pronounce upon a disputable case submitted for his opinion,
the predominance of his argumentative powers operates upon
his judgment in quite ^another way. Instead of rushing to
hasty conclusions, he finds a difiiculty in coming to any con
clusion at all. The very perfection of some of his faculties, his
sagacity, his subtilty, and his intuitive perception of the re
motest consequences of any given premise, which render him
so powerful as an advocate, have in this case only the effect
of encumbering him with equal arguments and equal difficul
ties on either side, and thus of keeping his mind in a state of
logical suspense. This fact is well known, and the conse
quence (I speak from general report) is, that in this department
of his profession his practice is utterly disproportioned to his
great experience and his unrivalled estimation.
The effect of Mr. Plunket's powers is greatly aided by his
external appearance.* His frame is tall, robust, and compact.
* Charles Phillips has thus sketched Plunket in his prime : " Who is that
square-built, solitary, ascetic-looking person, pacing to and fro, his hands crossed
behind his back, so apparently absorbed in self — the observer of all, yet the
companion of none ? It is easy to designate the man, but difficult adequately
to delineate the character. Perhaps never w^as a person to be estimated less by
appearances ; he is precisely the reverse of what he feels ; externally cold, yet
ardent in his nature ; in manner repulsive, yet warm, sincere, and steadfast in his
friendships ; severe in aspect, yet in reality sociaJ and ^mpassi enable — that is
Plunket — a man of tbe foremost rank, a wit, a jurist, a statesman, an orator, a
logician — the Irish Grylippus! as Curran called him ! in whom are concentrated
all the energies and all the talents of the country. Eminent at the bar, it is in
ParKament we see his faculties in their fullest development. Yet, in the Irish
House of Commons, his chief displays were on a single question — that of the
Union ; and in the British Parliament — that of the Roman Catholic question." — ^M.

110 WILLIAM CONYNGnA:\l PLUNKET.
His face is one of the most striking I ever saw ; and yet the
peculiarity lies so much more in the expression than the out
line, that I'find it not easy to describe it. The features on
the whole are blunt and harsh. There is extraordinary breadth
and capacity of forehead ; and when the brows are raised in
the act of thought, it becomes intersected with an infinite series
of parallel lines and folds. Neither the eyes nor brows are
particularly expressive; nor indeed can I say that any of the
other features would singly indicate the character of the man,
if I except a peculiar muscular largeness and rigidity about
the mouth and lips, from which you may collect, that smiling
has " never been their occupation."
The general character of Mr. Plunket's countenance is deep
seriousness — an expression that becomes more strongly mark
ed from the unvarying pallor that overspreads his features.
.. It is literally " the pale cast of thought.'' Some have accused
his physiognomy as being unsocial and austere. To me it ap
peared that the signs of those qualities have been confounded
with the natural and now indelible traces of a grave and vig
orous intellect, habitually absorbed in masculine investigations,
and preferring to dwell in the midst of its own thoughts. Nor
do I find anything repelling in the circumstance that his fea
tures seldom descend for a moment from their dignity. Know
ing what his mind and his history have been, I am prepared
for what I meet. I find no flashes of sensibility, no play of
shifting or conflicting emotions, but a calm constitutional sever
ity of aspect, importing a mind conscious of its powers, and
vigilantly keeping them in unremitted discipline against the
daily task that awaits them.*
* Phillips truly says, that Plunket's " style was peculiar, and almost quite
divested of the characteristics generally to be found in that of his countrymen.
Strong, cogent reasoning — plain but deep sense — earnest feeling and imagery,
seldom introduced except to press the reasoning or to illustrate it, were the
distinguishing features of his eloquence : he by no means rejected ornament,
but he used it severely and spai-ingly ; and though it produced the effect, it was
not directly, but rather collaterally and incidentally. He always seemed to
speak for a purpose, never for mere display ; and his wit, like his splendor, ap
peared to be struck out by the collision of the moment. In this, indeed, his
art was superlative. There were passages which could not have been flung off

HIS MANNKE. HI
I expected to have found a tinge of melancholy in Mr. Plun
ket's features — such as I had observed in Grattan and some
other eminent Irishmen, who had attended the Parliament of
their countiy in its last moments, and who could find nothing
in after-life to console them for the loss. I often heard Mr.
Grattan speak upon that event. I never found him more
eloquent or interesting than when, in a circle of his private
friends, he poured ont his indignation against a measure that
had baffled all his hopes, and his unavailing regret that he
had been too confiding at a conjuncture when it was possible
to have averted the disaster. But I could discern no traces
of similar sentiments in Mr. Plunket's looks. He was, how
ever, a much younger man, and could form new views and
attachments ; nor is it, perhaps, surprising, that at this distance
of time he should not revert with sadness to an event, which
in its consequences has opened to him so much larger a field
for the exhibition of his powers.
Jlr. Plunket's manner is not rhetorical — it is (what I con
sider much better) vigorous, natural, and earnest. He has no
variety of gesture, and what he uses seems perfectly unstudied.
He is evidently so thoroughly absorbed in his subject, as to be
quite unconscious that he has hands and arms to manage. He
has a habit, when he warms, as he always and quickly does,
of firmly closing both hands, raising them slowly and simul
taneously above his head, and then suddenly striking them
down with extraordinary force. The action is altogether un-
extempore, and must have been the result of very elaborate preparation.'' —
Many of his isolated passages are beautiful. In a parliamentary speech on the
Catholic Claims, in 1821, speaking of the great departed who had joined in
discussions, he said, " Walking before the sacred images of the illustrious dead,
as in a public and solemn procession, shall we not dismiss all party feeling, all
angry passions, all unworthy prejudices ? I will not talk of past disputes ; I
will not mingle in this act of national justice anything that can awaken per
sonal animosity." It was the speech of which this is an atom which actually
converted nine hostile votes on the Catholic Question, in the British House of
Commons. The late Sir James Macintosh, who had heard all the great ora
tors — from Pitt, Sheridan, Burke, and Fox, to Brougham, Canning, Sheil, and
Macaulay — repeatedly said, that if Plunket had been regularly trained to a
British House of Commons, he would have been the greatest speaker there
that he ever remembered. — M.

112 WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLUNKET.
graceful; biit its strength, and I would even add, its appro
priateness to the man and to his stern simplicity of character
and style, atone for its inelegance. Besides, this very disdain
of the externals of oratory has something imposing in it : you
are made to feel that you are in the presence of a powerful
mind that looks to itself alone, and you surrender yourself
more completely to its guidance from the conviction that no
hackneyed artifice has been employed to allure your confi
dence. Mr. Plunket's delivery, as already mentioned, is uncommonly
rapid, but his articulation is at the same time so distinct that I
seldom lose a word. In calm discussion his intonations are
deep, sonorous, and dignified : when he becomes animated, his
voice assumes a higher pitch, and the tones, though always
natural and impressive, are occasionally shrill. His extem
poraneous powers of expression are not to be described by the
common term, fluency. It is not merely over words arid
phrases, but over every possible variety of construction, that
he appears to hold an absolute command — the consciousness
of this power often involves him in grammatical difficulties.
He allows a thought to drift along into the midst of obstruc
tions, from which no outlet can be descried, as if for the mere
purpose of surprising you by his adroitness when he discovers
the danger, steering it in safety through all the straits and
intricacies of speech — or by the boldness with which he forces
a passage if he can not find one. But it is only over argumen
tative diction that he has acquired this mastery : when he
calls in the aid of sentiment and passion to enforce his logic,
his phraseology labors, and, if the passage be unpremeditated,
frequently falls short of the strength and dignity of the con
ception. But his deficiency in this respect evidently proceeds
from want of practice, not of capacity ; nor does the exertion
tha;t it costs him to supply appropriate language ever restrain
him from illustrating a legal argument by any bold practical
figure that may cross his mind.*
* I shall cite a single example : it will also serve as a specimen of the prone
ness to imagery that prevails in the Irish courts. The question turned upon
the right of presentation to a hving. Mr. P.'s clients and their predecessors

HIS PAItLIAMENTAEY CAREEE. 113
Mr. Plunket is a memorable, and I believe, a solitary in
stance of an eminent barrister whose general reputation has
been increased b}'- his parliamentary efforts.* His speeches
had heen in undisturbed enjoyment of the right for two centuries ; the opposite
party called upon them to show their original title. Mr. P. insisted upon the
legal presumption, arising from this long possession, that the title had been
originally a good one, though the deeds that had created it had been lost, and
consequently could not be produced. In commenting upon the necessity and
¦wisdom of such a rule of law, without which few properties of ancient standing
could be secure, he observed — " Time is the great destroyer of evidence, but
he is also the great protector of titles. If he comes with a scythe in one hand
to mow down the muniments of our possessions, he holds an hour-glass in the
other, from which he incessantly metes out the portions of duration that are to
render those muniments no longer necessary." [Lord Brougham, who intro
duced this extract into his sketch of Grattan, eulogized it highly. In the equity
case, which drew forth the speech in which it sparkled, Plunket was retained
by Trinity College, which sought to recover the right of presentation to the
living of Clonee. Mr Johnston, called " Bitter Bob," was his opponent, with
a bad case and Icirge fee. After Johnston had been voluble for some time,
Plunket, assuming a ludicrous expression of surjirise, questioned the relevancy
of what he said, and asked "Does the leanied gentleman mean to rely upon
prescription or upon law ?" Taken by siu^rise and conscious that he could not
rest upon prescription, Johnston hastily answered *' Oh ! most certainly upon
law." Plunket immediately asked, with mock gravity, " Well, then, where is
your law?" Utterly confounded by the directness and suddenness of the ques
tion, Johnston faltered out " I don't know," and sat down, half crying. It was
a confession at once true and candid. — M.]
* There were many predictions of Plunket's failure in the Imperial Parlia
ment. What Grattan had said of Flood, that an oak of the forest was too old
to be transplanted at fifty, was quoted against him — though he was no more
than six-and-thiity when the Union took place. Plunket, in the British, was
not the fervid orator he had. been in the Irish Parliament. He knew that he
had a different audience, and accommodated himself to it. He imitated no
speaker there — he could not be compared with any. His first speech in 1807,
on the Catholic question, was a fine specimen of solid reasoning and rich elo
quence, and of logical argument and historical facts. It placed Plunket in the
foremost rank of modem orators. From that time until he returned to Parlia-
m.ent six years after, he confined himself to his profession. His own Univer
sity, justly proud of him, sent him back to Pai'liament; and in 1813, as
well SS again ili 1814, Plunket spoke on the Catholic question, and only on that
subject. One of his incidental sarcasms, in 1814, was polished and keen. Ad
dressing the Speaker (Abbott), who had, ex-offido, to return the thanks of the
House to Wellington, he said, " But you, sir, while you were binding the
wreath round the brow of the conqueror, assured him that his victorious follow
ers must never expect to participate in the fruits of their valor, but that they

114 WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLTTSTKET.
.on the Union, in the Irish House of Oommous, raised him at
once to the first class of parliamentary orators. When he was
returned by the University of Dublin (in 1812) to the imperial
senate, Curran publicly predicted that his talents would create
a similar sensation here : I need not add how completely the
prophecy has been fulfilled. It would lead me too far to enter
into a minute examination of Mr. Plunket's parliamentary style
and manner ; in many points I should have to repeat some of
the foregoing remarks. I can not, however, forbear to observe,
that his language and views in the House of Commons discover
a mind that has thoroughly escaped the noxious influence of
his professional habits. He has shown that it is possible for
the same person to be a most subtle and dexterous disputant
upon a technical subject, and a statesman-like reasoner upon
a comprehensive one.
With regard to his political tenets — his opposition to the
Union, his connection with the Whig administration of 1806,
and his subsequent exertions in favor of Catholic Emancipa
tion, seem to have placed him on tbe list of Irish patriots ; but
his support of popular privileges, where he bas supported them,
appears to be entirely unconnected with popular sympathies —
his patriotism is a conclusion, not a passion. In all questions
between the people and the state, it is easy to perceive that he
identifies himself with the latter; he never, like Fox and
Grattan,* flings himself in imagination, into the popular ranks,
who had shed their blood in achieving the conquest were the only persons who
were never to share the profits of success in the rights of citizens." This ap
pears to be the germ of Shell's striking and brilliant address to Lord Hardinge,
with reference to the aid given in the field by Irish Catholics. — M.
* Henry Grattan, the most eminent Irishman of his time, was bom in 1746,
in Dublin. Educated in Dublin University, he became a law-student of the
Middle Temple in 1767, was called to the bar in 1772, and became member
fi r Charlemont in 1775, for which town he sat until 1790, when he was elected
1 y the citizens of Dublin. In 1797, he did not again become a candidate. In
1800, he was returned for Wicklow, to oppose the Union. From 1805 he was
a member of the Imperial Pi rliament, and was the earnest and able champion
of the Catholics, to his dying day. He found his counti-y a province — he made
it a nation ; he found it the prey of a rapacious oligarchy — he raised it to inde
pendence ; to use his own striking words, " he sat by its cradle, l^e foUowed its
hearse." Grattan was the life and soul of the struggle for Irish independence,

HENEY GRATTAN. 115
to march at their head, and in their name, and as one of them,
to demand a recognition of their rights. Mr. Plunket has not
1782. His eloquence was great, in a country where every man can freely and
suitably express himself in public. His courage was indomitable, and, in truth,
his sarcasm needed Such support. The people, grateful, gladly confirmed the
grant of fifty thousand pounds sterHng made to him by the Parliament : he had
refused the proposed sum of one hundred thousand pounds. With this he
bought Tinnahinch, in the county of Wicklow, where he lived, as Moore said —
*' 'Mid the trees which a nation had given, and which bowed
As if each brought a new civic crown for his head."
His last efforts in the Irish Parliament were against the Union. In the British
House of Commons, in 1804, Fox placed him on the seat next his own ; and his
first speech, in favor of Fox's motion on the Catholic question, and in reply to
Dr. Duigenan, who had imported his intolerance to London, was answered by
Spencer Percival, the Minister, who greatly complimented its brilliancy. In
England, Grattan was more subdued than in his own land in former years, and
Curran smartly said that " indeed he had brought his club into the English
House of Commons, but took care, beforehand, to pai-e off its knobs." He
advocated the CaLholic claims, by appointment, until 1815, when Sir Henry
Parnell was intrusted with the conduct of the measure. His popularity had so
much faded, that he was assailed, at the general election in 1818, by a mob in
Dublin, and narrowly escaped with life. In 1819, his motion for a committee
on the Catholic claims was lost by a majority of only two. In June, 1820, he
hurried over, weak in health, and worn by seventy-foin: years, to present the
Catholic petition once more — but died before he could do it. His remains
found interment in Westminster Abbey, next to those of Mr. Fox. His person
was short and clumsy, with disproportionably long arms ; his voice shrill and
badly managed; his manner artificial, his action vehement and unnatural — but
his diction, or wardrobe of words, was rich in the extreme ; his language full
of epigram and antithesis; his sentences harmonious and forcible; his powers
of attack and defence never equalled. The brilliant character of Grrattan's ora
tory was thus indicated by Moore, in one of his Irish Melodies: —
" Who, that ever hath heard him — hath drunk at the source
Of that wonderful eloquence, all Erin's own.
In whose high-thoughted daring, the fii-e and the force,
And the yet untamed spring of her spirit, are shown ?
" An eloquence rich, wheresoever its wave
Wandered free and triumphant, with thoughts that shone through,
As clear as the brook's 'stone of lustre,' and gave,
With the flash of the gem, its solidity too."
Grattan was a politician, but not a statesman. Yet, fi-om 1775 until 1800,
the history of Grattan is the history of Ireland. His son has published an ex
cellent Memoir of him, and had previously edited his speechps. Undoubtedly
Grattan was a remarkable man — one of the master-spirits of his age. — M.

116 WILLIAM CONTNGHAM PLtTNUTCT.
temperament for this. He studiously keeps aloof from the
multitude, and even when their strenuous advocate, lets it be
seen that he thinks for them, not with them — he never warms
into " the man of the people." His most animated appeals id
their behalf retain the tone of a just and enlightened aristocrat,
gravely and earnestly remonstrating with the members of his
own body, upon the danger and inexpediency of holding out
against the immutable and unconquerable instincts of human
nature. The only exception that I recollect to these remarks!, occurs
in his speeches against the Union. There he boldly plunged
into first principles ; as, among other instances, when he ex
claimed, "I, in the most express terms, deny the competency
of Parliament to do this act — I warn you, do not dare to lay
your hand on the Constitution. I tell you that if, circum
stanced as you are, you pass this act, it will be a nullity, and
that no man in Ireland will be bound to obey it. I make the
assertion deliberately — I repeat it — and I call on any man
who hears me to take down my words : you have not been
elected for this purpose — you are appointed to make laws, and
not legislatures. You are appointed to act under the consti
tution, not to alter it ; to exercise the functions of legislators,
and not to transfer them : and if you do so, your act is a
dissolution of the government; you resolve societj'- into its
original elements, and no man in the land is bound to obey
you." Yet even here, and in some bolder declarations' on the
same occasion, I am inclined to su,spect that Mr. Plunket
assumed this indignant tone, rather as a member of the assem
bly whose independence was assailed, than from any impas
sioned sympathy with the general rights of tlie body that he
represented. Had the question been a popular reform, in
stead of the extinction of the Irish parliament, he would, in
all likelihood, have been equally vehement in resisting the
innovation. Mr. Plunket's general reading is said to be limited ; and
if we may judge from the rareness of his allusions to the great
writers of ancient and modern times, the opiuion is not un
founded. When he was about to appear in the British parlia-

COMPARin WITH ROMILLT. 117
ment in 1812, it was whispered among his friends, that he
prepared himself with information on the general state of
European politics from the most ordinary sources: he wanted
facts, and he took the shortest and easiest method of collecting
them. I have understood that, up to a recent period, he fre
quently employed his leisure hours upon some elementary
treatise of pure mathematics. If the fact be so, it affords a
striking proof of the vigor of a mind which could find a relax
ation in such a pursuit.*
I have already glanced at a resemblance between Mr. Plun
ket and the late Sir Samuel Romilly. If I were to piu-sue the
comparison into the private characters of the two men, the
points of similarity would multiply, and in no particular more
strikingly than in the softness and intensity of their domestic
affections. But this is sacred ground : yet I can not forbear
to mention that it fell to my lot (when last in Ireland), -sitting
as a public auditor in the gallery of the Court of Chancery,
to witness a burst of sensibility, wbich, coming from such a
man as Mr. Plunket, and in such a place, sent an electric thrill
of sympathy and respect through the breasts of the audience.
An aged lady, on the day after her husband's death, had
signed a paper, resigning her right to a portion of property
* Although Plunket, as his aspect showed, was of a saturnine temperament,
he was not above enjoying and even making a joke. Once, at a dinner with
Dr Magee, Archbishop of Dublin, one of the company was a pedantic collegian,
who asked his host whether he had heard of the difference between Brinkley
(afterward Bishop of Cloyne) and Pond, respectively Astronomers Royal of
Ireland and England. "Brinkley," said the bore, "contends that the parallax
of a Lyras is three seconds; Pond says it is only two, — and the dispute is vio
lent." Plunket, who was one of the party, quietly remarked '* Ah, sir, it raust
be a very bad quarrel, -when tke seconds can not agree." — When the Grenville
Ministry was formed, in 1806, Charles Kendal Bushe, suspected of being a wa-
verer, absented himself from Court, on the ground that he was cabinet-maJnng.
The excuse transpired, and Plunket said " Bushe will beat me at that — I am
neither a joiner nor a turner." — After quitting the Common Pleas, in 1827, to
take the Great Seal, he was told that his successors had little or nothing to do.
" Well," said he, " they're equal to it." He could even joke at his own ex
pense. On his enforced retirement, in 1841, to make way for Loi'd Campbell,
a great storm arose on the day of his successor's expected arrival, a friend said,
how sick of his promotion the voyage must have made him. " Yes," said
Plunket, with a sardonic smile, " but it -isovCt -make him throw -wp the Seals. — M.

118 WILLIAM C0NYN6HAM PLUNKET.
to which she became entitled by his decease ; and the ques
tion was, whether her mind at the time was perfectly calm and
collected. Mr. Plunket insisted that it was not in human na
ture that .she could be so at such a crisis. — " She hacl received
a blow such as stuns the strongest minds : after a union of half
a century, of uninterrupted affection, to find the husband, the
friend, the daily companion, suddenly called, away for ever !"
He was proceeding to describe the first anguish and pertur
bation of spirit that must befall the survivor of such a relation,
when he suddenly recognised in the picture all that he had
himself a little while before endured. The recollection quite
subdued him — he faltered, and became inarticulate even to
sobbing. I can not describe the effect produced throughout,
the court.
I have thus attempted to present a sketch of this eminent
Irishman* — in matters of intellect unquestionably the most
* Lord Plunket, who was bom in 1764, is now (1854) in his ninetieth year.
Brought into the Irish Parliament by the Earl of Charlemont he bitterly de
nounced the contemplated Union, and was violently personal on the Irish Sec
retary, Lord Castlereagh, who managed the ministerial details. His Lordship,
a handsome man (who. Sir Walter Scott thought, was the most distinguished-
looking personage at the Coronation in 1821, as he walked, unaccompanied, in
the full dress of a Knight of the Garter), had been married for some years to the
young and lovely daughter of the Earl of Buckinghamshire, and it was their
misfortune to be childless. During a debate, when Lady Castlereagh was pres
ent, Plunket concluded a personal attack on her husband by saying, " I can not
believe that that constitution, the foundations of which were laid by the wisdom
of ages, and cemented by the blood of patriotic heroes, is to be smitten to its
centre by such a green and sapless twig as this !" The venom of the stroke,
imputing political and insinuating pei'sonal imbecility, was deeply felt. After
the Union, Plunket fought side by side with CuiTan, on the popular side ; but,
in 1803, he appeared against Eobert Emmett, as already mentioned. After the
Union, also, he had unsuccessfully been a pm-liamentaiy candidate for the Univer
sity of Dublin. In 1806, the death of Pitt admitted the Whigs to office. Self-
boasting as they had been, the soubriquet of "All the talents'' was given to
their official capacity. In 1807, they quitted place, and Plunket, who would
have been retained by their successors if he pleased, went out with them ; nor
did he again assume office until 1822, when (at the instance of the same Lord
Castlereagh whom he had formerly attacked, but who desired parliamentary
assistance against the hollow friendship of Canning and the open hostility of
Brougham) he succeeded Mr. Saurin as Attorney-General. He had previ
ously defended, in Parliament, what was called the " Massacre of Peterloo," in

HIS VERSATILE POWERS. 119
eminent that now exists. If I intended it to be anything bnt
a hasty sketch, I should feel that I have been unjust to him.
Some of his powers — his wit and irony, for example, in both
of which he excels, and his cutting and relentless sarcasm,
where vice and folly are to be exposed — have been altogether
unnoticed ; but his is the ^^ versatile ingenium," and, in offering
the result of my observations upon it, I have been compelled
to select rather what I could best describe, than what I most
the Manchester riots of 1819. As first Irish law-officer of the Crown, Plunket
did not appear to advantage. When a hottle was flung at the Viceroy, in the
theatre, Plunket hastily indicted the rioters for high-treason, and as hastily
withdrew the indictment hefore ti-ial. His bills of indictment were ignored,
his ex-oJUcio prosecutions defeated, and his Orange antagonists cheaply obtained
the honor of political martyrdom. In 1827, when a new Premier was necessary,
on the illness of Lord Livei'pool, Canning was appointed, and thought so highly
of Plunket as to offer him a peerage, a seat in the Cabinet, and the high office
of Master of the Rolls in England. Plunket was actually appointed, but the
English bar, declaring that Westminster Hall must supply the new Judge, inti
mated that they would not plead before Plunket. The end was that he became
Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas in Ireland, instead of Master of the Rolls
in England- — and became a peer as "Baron Plunket, of Newton, County of
Cork." By his speeches and his vote, he assisted in the Emancipation Bill of
1829 ; and when the Whigs took office, in 1830, Earl Grey made him Lord-
Chancellor of Ireland, a position which he retained until December, 1834, when
Sir Robert Peel, on the change of Ministry, appointed Sir Edward Sugden (now
Lord St. Leonards, and late Lord-Chancellor ofEngland), an English barrister
of great ability. In April, 1835, Plunket resumed the Irish Chancellorship,
and retained it until Jtme, 1841. The Melbourne Ministry, then within three
months of its dissolution, wished to provide for Sir John Campbell, who had
been in office nine years. His wife had already been appointed a peeress in
her own right (Baroness Stratheden), but he desired for himself the retiring
pension of four thousand pounds sterling always given to an ex-Chancellor.
Accordingly, Lord Plunket, whose judicial career had been highly satisfactory,
received a hint that he must retire I Plunket, recollecting how the English
bar had refused him, was reluctant to see an English lawyer, who knew nothing
of equity, named as his successor. He refused to retire, was informed that he
would be dismissed if he did not, and finally resigned, stating the whole case in
open Court, in his farewell address to the bar. He said he had no shai-e in
what had taken place, directly or indirectly, and entirely repudiated the change,
Campbell, created a peer, heard a. few motions as Chancellor, and went out,
shortly after, on the large pension he had coveted. He is now Chief-Justice
of England. — Lord Plunket retired into private life in 1841, and enjoys the
four thousEUid pounds pension, and a large private fortune, earned by his pro
fessional labors. — M.

120 WILLIAM CONYNGHAM PLtJNKKT.
admired ; and even if I had succeeded in a delineation of all
the powers that raise Mr. Plunket above ordinary men, I
should have had to add, that our admiratioii of him is not
limited by what we actually witness.
We speculate upon his great attributes of intellect, and ask,
" What might they not have achieved, had his destiny placed
him in the situation most favorable to their perfect develop
ment ? If, instead of wasting them upon questions of tran
sitory interest, he had dedicated them solely to the purposes of
genei-al science — to metaphysics, mathematics, legislation,
morals, or (what is but spoken science) to that best and rarest
hind of eloquence, which awakes the passions only that they
may listen to the voice of truth — to what a height and perma
nence of fame might they not have raised him V
These reflections perpetually force themselves upon Mr.
Plunket's admirers : we lament to see tbe vigor of such a
mind squandered upon a profession and a province. We are
incessantly reminded that, high and successful as his career has
been, his opportunities have been far beneath his resources,
and thus, judging him rather by what he could do than what
he has done, we are disposed to speak of him in terms of enco
mium, which no records of his genius will remain to justify.

CHAELES KENDAL BUSHE.
The name of Charles Kendal Bushe is not so extensively
known as that of Plunket beyond the immediate field in which
his talents (which are of the first order) have been displayed.
But in Ireland it is almost unifoi'mly associated with that of
Plunket, by those who descant upon the comparative merits
of their most distinguished advocates. The latter is better
fitted to the transactions of ordinary business, and, in a pro
fession which is generally conversant with the details of com
mon life, exhibits a dexterity and astuteness which render him
the most practical, and, therefore, the ablest man at the Bar.
He is always upon a level with his subject, and puts forth his
faculties, as if they were as subservient as his limbs to the do
minion of his will, in the most precise and minute adaptation
to the purposes for which they may happen to be required.
The self-control which his mind possesses in so high and rare
a degree (and it is more diificult, perhaps, to men of true
genius to descend from their native elevation than to persons
of inferior endowments to raise their faculties to the height of
a " great argument") has given him an almost undisputed mas
tery in the discussion of those topics which constitute the ha
bitual business of the Bar. His hearers are not conscious that
he is in reality exercising his great powers while he addresses
them in the plainest speech and apparently in the most homely
way.
I An acute observer would discover that his reasonings upon
the most vulgar topic were the perfection of art, and that un
der the guise of simplicity he concealed the most insidious
Vol. I.— 6

122 CHAELES KRNDAL BCSHE.
sophistry, and subtleties the most acute. This seeming ingen
uousness is the consummation of forensic ability ; and however
it is to be estimated in a moral point of view, there can be no
doubt that at the Bar it is of incalculable use. Mr. Plunket
is the chief sophist, and for that reason the most useful dis
putant in his profession ; and it must be confessed that the
deliberations of a court of justice do not call so much for the
display of eloquence as for the, ingenious exercise of the pow
ers of disputation. I am far from thinking Mr. Bushe deficient
in refinement and dexterity; on the contrary, he would he
conspicuous for those qualities unless when he is placed in
comparison with the great arch-hypocrite of the Bar. But who
could be his rival in that innocent simulation which constitutes
the highest merit of a modern lawyer ] The ingenuity of
Bushe is too apparent. His angling is light and delicate ; but
the fly is too highly colored, and the hook glitters in the sun.
In the higher departments of oratory he .is, perhaps, equal and
occasionally superior to Mr. Plunket, from the power and en
ergy of his incomparable manner; but in the discharge of com
mon business in a common way, he holds a second, though not
exceedingly distant place.
Mr. Bushe is the son of a clergyman of the established
church, who resided at Kilmurry, in the county of Kilkenny,
in the midst of the most elegant and most accomplished soci
ety in Ireland. He was in the enjoyment of a lucrative living,
and being of an ancient family, which had established itself
in Ireland in the reign of Charles the Second, he thought it
incumbent upon him to live upon a scale of expenditure more
consistent with Irish notions of dignity than with English
maxims of economy and good sense. He was a man of refined
manners, and of polished if not of prudential habits. His son
Charles imbibed from him an ardent love of literature, and had
an opportunity from his familiar intercourse with the best com
pany in the kingdom, to acquire those graces of manner which
render him a model of elegance in private life, and which, in
the discharge of professional business, impart such a dignified
suavity to his demeanor as to charm the senses before the un
derstanding is addressed. His mother was the sister of Major-

THE HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 123
General Sir John Doyle,* and is said to have been a highly-
cultivated woman.
Mr. Bushe received his education in the University of Dub
lin, and, I may add, in the Historical Society which was estab
lished by the students for the cultivation of eloquence and of
the arts which are connected with it. Although it derived its
appellation from the study of history, to which it was nomi
nally dedicated, the political situation of the country speedily
directed its pursuits to the acquisition of the faculty of public
speech ; through which every man of talent expected to rise
into eminence, at a period when oratory was the great staple
commodity in the intellectual market. This institution rose
of its own accord out of the spontaneous ambition of the stu
dents of the University. So far from assisting its growth, tbe
fellows of the college employed every expedient to repress it.
In the true spirit of monks (and however they may differ in
the forms of their faith, in their habits, and in the practical
results in which their principles are illustrated and embodied,
the monks of all religions are inveterately the same), the su
periors of the University took the society under their baneful
protection. They attempted to hug it to death in their rugged
and hirsute embrace. The students, however, soon became
* The late General Sir John Doyle was private Secretary to the Prince of
Wales for many years, when that profligate was taking- a leading part in the
" Road to Ruin." Doyle, who was then only a Major in the army, was an Irish
man and had distinguished himself by some clever opposition speeches in the
Irish House of Commons. — The Prince met him accidentally at a large party,
was struck with his intelligence and vivacity, invited him to the Pavilion, at
Brighton, and speedily offered him the most confidential post in his household.
To his latest day, Doyle used to say that George, Prince of Wales, merited the
title of ** the first gentleman in Europe," and it should he noted that he who
gave this opinion had spent all his life in the best society, at home and abroad.
Doyle was a wit. The Prince had gone to the opening of Parliament, wearing
diamond epaulettes on his military uniform. At dinner, Doyle said he had
been among the crowd, who much admired the Prince's equipage, and that one
of them, looking at the diamond epaulettes, said, " Tom, what amazing fine
things the Prince has got upon his shoulders?" and the other had answered,
*' Ay, fine enough, and they will soon be on our shoulders." There was a
smile all ai-ound the royal table, for fireedom of speech was fully allowed there,
and the Prince laughingly retorted, " You rogue, that shafl; could come frora no
bow but your own. " — M.

124 CHAELES KENDAL BTJSHE.
aware of the real objects of their interference, and wereeom-
pelled, in order to preserve the institution from tbe conse
quences of so impure a connection, to recede from the Univer
sity, and hold their meetings beyond its walls.
Mr. Bushe had been recently called to the Bar, but had not
yet devoted himself to its severer studies with the strenuous
assiduity which is necessary for success in so laborious a pro
fession. But the fame which he had acquired in the society
itself, induced its rebellious members to apply to him to pro
nounce a speech at the close of the first session which was
held beyond the precincts of tbe college, for the purpose of
giving the dignity and importance to their proceedings which
they expected to derive from tbe sanction of his distinguished
name. Mr. Bushe acceded to the request, and pronounced a
very eloquent oration, which Mr. Phillips has, I observe, inserted
in his collections of " Specimens of Irish Oratory."* It is re-
* This work, which, published in Dublin in 1819, was republished in Phila
delphia in 1820, is called " Specimens of Irish Oratory," and contains, with
very brief memoirs, examples of jjie oratory of Burke, Curran, Grattan, Sheri
dan, Burrowes, Bushe, Plunket, and Flood. Charles Phillips, bom at Sligo,
in 1788, graduated at Dublin University, and was called to the Irish bar in
1812, where his florid oratory obtained him considerable practice in adultery,
seduction, and breach-of-promise-of-maiTiage cases. He collected his speeches
in one volume in 1817, and they obtained a large sale. He also edited ** Spe
cimens of Irish Eloquence,'* wrote a poem called " The Emerald Isle,'' and
wrote " Recollections of Curran," which speedily ran through two large edi
tions, and was reproduced in 1850, entirely recast, enlarged, and improved, as
*' Curran and his Contemporaries," which has gone into several editions, and
was republished in New York, in 1851. Phillips went to the English bar, in
1819, where his peculiar style of eloquence did not please. He obtained ex
tensive criminal practice, and adhered steadily to the liberal principles of his
youth. In 1842, on the establishment of District Courts of Bankruptcy in Eng
land, the influence of his stanch fi-iend Lord Brougham obtained him a com-
missionership at Liverpool, with a salary of eighteen hundred pounds sterling a
year. He subsequently resigned this, and became one of the London Com
missioners of the Insolvents' Court. It is matter for reproach, as well as regret,
that, dui'ing the last ten or twelve years of comparative leisure, Phillips has done
so little as a literary man — a calling in which he has so well acquitted him
self Curran, who much loved him, was fully sensible of the faults of Phillips's
early oratory, and said : " There is much more of flower than figure or art ; more
of fancy than design. It is like (as I suspect the mind of the author to be) a tree
in full blossom: shake it and yon have them on the ground in a minute, and it
would take a season to rpjiroduco them." — M.

CHAEACTEK OF HIS ELOQtfENCK. 125
markable for purity and simplicity of style, and for an argu
mentative tone, which, in so young a man, who had hitherto
exercised himself upon topics which invited a puerile declama
tion, and the discussion of which was a mere mockery of de
bate, afforded grounds for anticipating that peculiar excellence
which he afterward attained. A few metaphors are inter
spersed, but they are not of the ordinary class of Irish illus
tration ; and what was unavoidable in an assembly composed
of insurgent students, an hyperbole is occasionally to be found
in the course of this very judicious speech. But, taken as a
whole, it bears the character of the mature production of a
vigorous mind, rather than of the prolusion of a juvenile rhet
orician.* This circumstance is a little remarkable. The passion for
figurative decoration was at this time at its height in Ireland.
The walls of the parliament house resounded with dithyram-
bics, in which, at the same time, truth and nature were too
frequently sacrificed to efi'ect. The intellect of the country
was in its infancy, and although it exhibited signs of athletic
vigor, it was pleased with the gorgeous baubles which were
held out for its entertainment. It is, therefore, somewhat sin
gular, that while a taste of this kind enjoyed so wide and
almost universal a prevalence, Mr. Bushe should, at so early a
period of his professional life, have manifested a sense of its
imperfections, and have traced out for himself a course so dif
ferent from that which had been pursued by men whose genius
had invested their vices with so much alluring splendor.
This circumstance is partly, perhaps, to be attributed to the
strong instinct of propriety which was born with his mind,
and, in some degree, to his having passed a considerable time
out of Ireland, where he became conversant with models of a
purer, if not of a nobler eloquence, than that which was culti
vated in the sister kingdom. He lived in France for some
* The beautiful speech which Bushe delivered fi-om the chair of the Histor
ical Society, in closing its twenty-fourth session, in June, 1794, was published
by Phillips in his " Specimens." Bushe's own copy of this book was annotated
by himself in 1827, and he has marked this speech as " mostly puerile." Some
passages he noted as " bad," some "not good," and only one as " good." — In
fact, he WELS veiy fastidious as to his own productions. — M.

126 CHAELES KENDAL BUSHE.
years, among men of letters; and although the revolution had
subverted, in a great degree, the principles of literature as
well as of government, yet enough of relish for classical beauty
and simplicity had survived, among men who had received
the advantages of education, to furnish him with the opportu
nity, of which he so advantageously availed himself, of culti
vating a better style of expression than he would, in all
probability, have adopted had he permanently resided in
Ireland. It may appear strange that I should partly attribute the
eminence in oratory to which Mr. Bushe has attained, to the
Historical Society, after having stated that he deviated so
widely from the tone of elocution which prevailed in that
establishment, and in wbich, if there was little of childishness,
there was much of boyhood. But, with all its imperfections,
it must be recollected that such an institution afibrded an occa
sion for the practice of the art of public speaking, which is as
much, perhaps, the result of practical acquisition, as it is of
natural endowment. A false ambition of ornament might pre
vail in its assemblies, and admiration might be won by verbose
extravagance and boisterous inanity ; but a man of genius
must still have turned such an institution to account. He
must have thrown out a vast quantity of ore, which time and
circumstance would afterward separate and refine. His fac
ulties must have heen put into action, and he must have learned
the art, as well as tasted the delight, of stirring the hearts
and exalting the minds of a large concourse of men. The
physique of oratory too, if I may use the expression, must
have been acquired. A just sense of the value of gesture and
intonation results from the practice of public speaking ; and
the appreciation of their importance is necessary to their
attainment. It is for these reasons that I am inclined to refer
a portion of the prosperity which has accompanied Mr. Bushe
through his profession, to an institution, the supprecsion of
which has been a source of great regret to every person who
had the interests of literature at heart.
The reputation which Mr. Bushe had acquired among his
fellow-students, attended him to his profession ; and in a very

HARMONY OF HIS VOICE. 127
short period, he rose into the public notice as an advocate of
distinguished abilities. It was, indeed, impossible that he
should remain in obscurity. His genius was not of such a
character as to stand in need of a great subject for its display.
The most trivial business furnished him with an occasion to
produce a striking effect. There are some men who require a
lofty theme for the manifestation of their powers. Their
minds demand the stimulus of high passion, and are slow and
sluggish unless awakened by the excitement which great inter
ests afibrd.
This is peculiarly the case with Mr. Burrowes,* who, upon
a noble topic, is one of the ablest advocates at the Irish bar,
but who seems oppressed by the very levity of a petty subject,
and sinks under its inanity.
He is in every respect the opposite of Mr. Bushe, who could
not open his lips, or raise his hand, without immediately exci
ting and almost captivating the attention of every man around
him. There is a peculiar mellowness and deep sweetness in
his voice, the lower tones of which might, almost without haz
ard of exaggeration, be compared to the most delicate notes
of an organ, when touched with a fine but solemn hand. It is
a voice full of manly melody. There is no touch of effeminacy
about it. It possesses abundance as well as harmony, and is
not more remarkable for its sweetness than in its sonorous
depth. His attitude and gesture are the perfection of " easy
art" — every movement of his body appears to be swayed and
informed by a dignified and natural grace. His countenance
is of the finest order of fine faces, and contains an expression
of magnanimous frankness, that, in the enforcement of any
cause which he undertakes to advocate, invests him with such
a semblance of sincerity, as to lend to his assertion of fact,
* BuiTowes was one of the most absent of men. He it was who was found at
breakfast-time, standing by the fire with an egg in his hand and his watch in
the saucepan. But, as a barrister, he had great influence with a jury — some
times reaching the purest eloquence. " Devoid of every grace and every art,"
says Phillips," ungainly in figure, awkwai'd in action, discordant in voice, no
man more riveted the attention of an audience and more repaid it. His mind
was of the very highest order ; his manner forced the conviction of his sincerity,
and his arguments were clothed in language chaste and vigorous.'' — M.

128 CHAra.Es kicndal bushe.
or to his vindication of good principle, an irresistible force.* It
was not wonderful that he should have advanced with extreme
rapidity in his profession, seconded as he was by such high
advantages. It was speedily perceived that he possessed an
almost commanding influence with the jury ; and he was in
consequence employed in every case of magnitude, which
called for the exertion of such eminent faculties as he mani
fested upon every occasion in which his powers were put into
requisition. Talents of so distinguished a kind could not fail to raise him
into political consequence, as well as to insure his professional
success. The chief object of every young man of abilities at the
bar was to obtain a seat in Parliament. It secured him the
applause of his country if he devoted himself to her interest;
or, if he enlisted himself under the gilded banners of the min
ister, place, pension, and authority, were the certain remu
nerations of the profligate services which his talents enabled
him to bestow upon a government, which had reduced corrup
tion into system, and was well aware that it was only by the
debasement of her legislature that Ireland could be kept under
its control. The mind of Mr. Bushe was of too noble a cast to
lend itself to purposes so uncongenial to a free and lofty spirit ;
and he preferred the freedom of his country, and the retributive
consciousness of the approbation of his own heart, to the igno
minious distinctions with which the administration would have
been glad to reward the dereliction of what he owed to Ireland
and to himself. Accordingly we find, that Mr. Bushe threw
all the energy of his youth into opposition to a measure which
he considered fatal to that greatness which Nature appeared
to have intended that his country should attain ; and to the
last he stood among the band of patriots who offered a gen
erous but unavailing resistance to a legislative Union with
Great Britain.
* Bushe was by no means a handsome man. Phillips speaking of his " Mir-
abeau-foi-med figure — Mirabeau, indeed, in shape and genius, without the alloy of
his vices or his crimes. What sweetness there is iu his smile ! what thought
in his brow ! what pure benevolence in the beaming of his blue unclouded
eyel" — M.

KESULTS OF THE UNION. 129
However, as an Englishman, I may rejoice in an event,
which, if followed by Roman Catholic Emancipation, will
ultimately abolish all national antipathy, and give a permanent
consolidation to'the empire ; it can not be fairly questioned that
every native of Ireland ought to have felt that her existence
was at stake, and that, in place of making those advances in
power, wealth, and civilization, to which her natural advan
tages would have inevitably led, she must of necessity sustain
a declension as rapid as her progress toward improvement had
previously been, and sink into the provincial inferiority to
which she is now reduced. This conviction, the justice of
which has been so well exemplified by the event, prevailed
through Ireland; and it required all the seductions which the
minister could employ, to produce the sentence of self-annihi
lation, which he at last succeeded in persuading a servile
legislature to pronounce. To the honor of the Irish Bar, the
great majority of its members were faithful to the national
cause ; and Curran, Plunket, Ponsonby,* Saurin, Burrowes,
and Bushe, accomplished all that eloquence and patriotism
could effect, in opposition to the mercenaries, who had sold the
dignity of their profession, as well as the independence of
their country, in exchange for that ignoble station, to which,
by their slimy profligacies, they were enabled to crawl up.
Bushe was the youngest of these able and honest men ; but he
was among the most conspicuous of them all.
In this strenuous resistance which was offered hy the re
spectable portions of the Irish Bar to the measure which de
prived Ireland of the advantages of a local legislature, a con-
* George Ponsonby, whose fether had been speaker of the Irish House of
Commons, was bom in 1755, called to the Irish bar in 1780, was a violent par
liamentary opponent of the Irish ministry, was appointed Lord Chancellor of
Ireland, in 1806, by "All the Talents" Cabinet, procured «. peerage at the
same time for his elder brother, quitted ofiice with his colleagues in 1807, on
the retiring pension of four thousand pounds sterling a year, became a distin
guished member of the Opposition, and died in July, 1817. He was not elo
quent. A clever parody on Moore's " Believe me if all those endearing young
charms" introduces his name thus —
" And Ponsonby leaves the debate when he sets.
Just as dark as it was when he rose." — M.
6*

130 CHAELES KENDAL BUSHE.
sciousness of deep personal interest must have been mingled
with their public virtue ; for, it was not difiicult to foresee that
the profession from which the government was compelled to
make the selection of its parliamentary advocates, and to
which the country looked for its ablest support, must sustain a
fatal injury, from the deprivation of the opportunities of venal
ity upon one hand, and of profitable patriotism upon tbe
other. The House of Commons was the field to which almost
every lawyer of abilities directed his hopes of eminence rather
than to the courts of law ; and it must be acknowledged, that
with that field the career to high fame is closed upon the
profession. Money may now be made in equal abundance by
laborious ability (and, indeed, the quantity of talent and of
industty at the Irish Bar demand in every individual who
aims at important success a combination of both) ; but no very
valuable reputation can be obtained.
Perhaps in the estimate of black-letter erudition the change
is not to be deplored : and unquestionably the knowledge of
law (for a few years ago the majority of barristers in full prac
tice were ignorant of its elementary principles) bas consider
ably increased, and English habits of business and of diligence
are gradually beginning to appear. But the elevated objects
of ambition, worthy of great faculties and of great minds, were
withdrawn for ever. Mr. Bushe must have repined at the
prospect. He would naturally have sought for mines of gold
amid the heights of fame, and he was now reduced to the
necessity of digging for it in an obscure and dreaiy level. It
is well-known tbat Mr. Plunket had at the time entertained
the intention of going to the English Bar, in consequence of
the exportation of the legislature;* but the cautious timidity
of his advisers induced him to abandon the idea. I am not
aware whether Mr. Bushe had ever proposed to himself au
abandonment of a country, from which true genius must have
been tempted to become an absentee. But it is likely that his
* Curran was so dispirited with what passed in the Ii-ish " Reign of TeiTor,"
in 1798, that though then forty-eight year-s old, he also had serious thoughts
of abandoning the Irish for the English bai-. He stated this fact in one of his
speeches in defence of the state prisoners. — M.

LORD CASTLl.REAGH. 131
pecuniary circumstances, which, in consequence of his spon
taneous generosity in paying off his father's debts (his own
sense of duty had rendered them debts of honor in his mind)
were at this period extremely contracted, must have prevented
him from engaging in so adventurous an enterprise.
To him, individually, however, if the Union was accom
panied with many evils, it was also attended with counter
vailing benefits. Had the Irish Parliament been permitted to
exist, Mr. Bushe would, in all probability, have continued in
opposition to the government, upon questions to which much
importance would have been annexed. Catholic Emancipa
tion, which is now not only innocent, but in the mind of almost
every enlightened man has become indispensable, would have
been regarded as pregnant with danger to the state. Mr.
Bushe, I am satisfied, could never have brought himself to
resist what his own instincts must have taught him to be due
to that justice which he would have considered as paramount
to expediency. Many obstacles would have stood in the way
of a sincere reconciliation with the government, and he could
not afford to play the part of Eabricius. Whether the argu
ments which Lord Castlereagh* knew so well how to apply,
* It was Robert Stewart, Lord Castlereagh (who succeeded his father in
1821, as Marquis of Londonderry), who chiefly brought about the Union. Born
in 1769, he entered the Irish parliament in eai-ly manhood, when Mr. Stewart,
after a contest which cost thirty thousand pounds sterling, joined the opposi
tion, and advocated Parliamentary Reform, which Pitt then favored. When
he became a member of the British Parliament, he became ministerial. In
1797, aft;er he had become Lord Castlereagh, he returned to the Irish Parlia
ment and was made Keeper of the Pri-vy Seal in Ireland, and, soon after, one
of the Lords of the Treasury. In 1798, he became Irish Secretary, and
wielded immense power. In 1805, still sitting in the Imperial Parliament for
the county of Down, he was admitted into the British Cabinet, retired on the
death of Mr. Pitt, but resumed ofiice in 1807, when the Grenville Ministry
broke up. In 1809, quarrelling with Mr. Canning, whom he wounded in a
duel, he quitted ofiice, but succeeded the Marquis Wellesley, in 1812, as For
eign Secretary, which ofiice he retained until his suicide, in August, 1822.
He took part in the negotiations at the Congress of Vienna, after the fall of
Napoleon. From that time until the close of his life, he was leader of the
ministerial party, and governed the British empire with a strong hand. Con
stant mental labor led to insanity and death. At his funeral, when his remains
were entering Westminster Abbey, where he was buried, the populace gave

132 CHAELES KKNDAL BUSHE.
and before which, in the estimate of the House of Commons,
all the eloquence of Grattan was reduced into a magnificent
evaporation, would have prevailed upon Mr. Bushe, as they
did with the majority of the Irish members, it is unnecessary
to conjecture; hut unquestionably had not the Union passed,
he must have abandoned his political opinions before he could
have been raised to office. When, however, that measure was
carried, a compromise became easy, and was not, in my
opinion, dishonorable.
Accordingly, although he had opposed the government on
the measure which they had most at heart, their just sense of
his talents induced them to offer him the place of Solicitor-
General, to which he was promoted in thirteen years after he
had heen called to the Bar. That ofiice he has since held,
and rendered the most important services to the minister,
without, perhaps, at the same time, ever having been guilty of
any direct dereliction of his former opinions. He was placed,
indeed, in rather an embarrassing condition ; for his associate,
or rather, his superintendent in ofiice, Mr. Saurin,* was con
spicuous for his hatred to the Roman Catholic cause, of which
Mr. Bushe had been, and still professed himself, the earnest
friend. This antipathy to the Roman Catholics formed the
leading, I may say, the only feature, in the political character
of Saurin, who had simplified the theory of government in
Ireland, by almost making its perfection consist in the oppres
sion of a majority of its people. Bushe, on the other hand,
had often declared, that he considered the general degradation
of so large a class of the community as incompatible with na
tional felicity.
This difference of opinion is said to have produced a want
of cordiality between the two servants of the crown : Bushe,
however, with all his liberality of feeling (and I have no
three shouts of joy over his coffin. A like demonstration marked the funeral
of Lord Chancellor Clare, in Ireland ; he had threatened to make the Irish
people " tame as cats," and the exasperated thousands who gladly witnessed
ihe close of his career, flung heaps of dead cats upon his coffin. — M.
* Mr. Saurin, Attomey-General to Ireland fi-om 1807 until 1822, is the sub
ject of a subsequent sketch. — M,

THE CATHOLIC BOARD. 133
doubt that his professions were 'entirely sincere), was of infin
itely more use to the government than Saurin could possibly
have been, when the suppression of the Roman Catholic board*
was resolved upon. The latter, upon the trial of the delegates,
exhibited a sombre virulence, which was calculated to excite
wonder rather than conviction. Its gloomy animosity was
without a ray of eloquence.
Bushe produced a very different effect. He stood before the
jury as the advocate of the Catholic cause, to suppress the
Roman Catholic board. The members of that body had been
designated as miscreants by Mr. Saurin (that learned gentle
man appears to be averse to any circumlocutory form of phrase) ;
Solicitor-General Bushe called them his friends. With a con
summate wile he professed himself the champion of the people,
and put forth all his ardor in insisting upon the necessity of
concession to six millions of men. To the utterance of these
sentiments, which astonished Mr. Saurin, he annexed the full
power of his wonderful delivery .t His countenance became
inflamed ; his voice assumed all the varieties of its most im
passioned intonation ; and his person was informed and almost
elevated by the consciousness of the noble thoughts which he
was enforcing, for the purpose of investing the very fallacies
* The Roman Catholic Board was the precursor of the Catholic Association
of 1825. Before it dissolved, it voted O'ConneU a service of plate worth one
thousand pounds sterling, as an acknowledgment of his zeal and ability. — M.
t Bushe's manner must have been very good. Phillips, writing in 1818, thus
described it: "To be properly appreciated, Bushe must be seen and heard.
He is the li-ving justification of Demosthenes' dictum — emphatically the orator
of -manner. His eye — his face — his gesture — his very hand, speaks; all
grace, all sweetness, all expression — his tongue, dropping manna, is, perhaps,
the most silent organ of his oratory." In 1850, Phillips again said : " By na
ture enriched with the rare gift of genius, he engrafts on it every grace that art
can furnish. The sweet-toned tongue, lavishing profusely the treasures of lan
guage, intellect, and leaming, speaks not more expressively to heart or head,
than the glance, the action, the attitude, which wait upon his words, as it were,
with an embodied eloquence." He subsequently praised the consummate act
ing, where " not one trace of art betrays the toil by which it has been fashioned
into Nature's image," and eulogizes "-the might of his reasoning, the music of
his diction, and the absolute enchantment of his exquisite delivery." This is
high praise, but most of his contemporaries have said as much. — M.

134 CHAELES KENDAL BUSHE.
which he intended to inculcate with the splendid semblances
of truth.
After having wrought his hearers to a species of enthusiasm,
and alarmed Attorney-General Saurin by declaring, with an
attitude almost as noble as the sentiment which it was intended
to set off, that he would throw the constitution to his Catholic
countrymen as widely open as his own breast, he suddenly
turned back, and, after one of those pauses, the efi'ect of which
can be felt by those only who have been present upon such
occasions, in the name of those very principles of justice which
he had so powerfully laid down, he implored the jury to sup
press an institution in the country, which he asserted to be the
greatest obstacle to the success of that measure, for the attain
ment of which it had been ostensibly established.
The eloquence of Mr. Bushe, assisted by certain contrivances
behind the scenes, to which government is, in Dublin, occa
sionally obliged to resort, produced the intended efi'ect. I
doubt not that a jury so properly compounded (the panel of
which, if not suggested, was at least revised) would have given
a verdict for the crown, although Mr. Bushe had never ad
dressed them. But the government stood in need of something
more than a mere verdict. It was necessary to give plausi
bility to their proceedings, and they found it in the oratory of
this distinguished advocate. Is it not a little surprising that
Mr. Bushe should, in despite of the vigor of his exertions against
the Catholic board, and their success, have still retained his
popularity ? It would be natural that such services as he con
ferred upon the ministry, which appeared so much at variance
with the interests, and in which he acted a part so diametri
cally in opposition to the passions of the people, should have
generated a feeling of antipathy against him. But the event
was otherwise. He had previously ingratiated himself so much
in the general liking, and so liberal an allowance was made
for the urgency of the circumstances in which he was placed,
that he retiiined the favor not only of the better classes among
the Roman Catholics, but did not lose the partialities of the
populace itself. At all events, the benefits he rendered to the

THE CHIEF BAEON's CASE. 135
government were most material, and gave him the strongest
claims upon their gratitude.*
Another remarkable instance occurred not very long ago, of
the value of such a man to the Irish administration, and it is
the more deserving of mention, as it is connected with circum
stances which have excited nb inconsiderable interest in the
House of Commons, and brought Mr. Plunket and his rival into
an immediate and honorable competition. I allude to the case
of the Chief Baron 0'Grady,t when he set up a claim to nomi
nate to the office of clerk of the pleas in the Court of Exche
quer in Ireland. The prize for which tho learned Judge was
adventuring was a great one, and well worth the daring experi
ment for which he exposed himself to the permanent indigna
tion of the government. The salary of the office was to be
counted by thousands, and the Chief Baron thought it would
be as conducive to the public interests, and as consistent with
the pure administration of justice, that he should appoint one
of his own family to fill the vacancy which had occurred, as
that the local ministry of Ireland should make the appoint
ment. The matter was brought before Parliam.ent ; and much
* At Kilkenny private theatricals, when pressed for an opinion, he said that
he preferred the prompter, for he heard the most and saw the least of him. At
a dinner given by a Dublin Orangeman, when politics ran high, and Bushe was
suspected of holding pro-Catholic opinions, the host indulged so freely that he
fell under the table. The Duke of Richmond, who then was Viceroy, picked
him up and replaced him in the chair. " My Lord Duke," said Bushe, " though
you say I am attached to the Catholics, at all events I never assisted at the
elevation cf the Host." Sir Robert Peel, who was present, related this bon--mot.
One of Bushe's relations, who rarely indulged in any oblations, complained of a
sore throat. " Fill a pail with hot water, until it reach your knees ; then take
a pint of oatmeal, and scrub your legs with it for quarter of an hour," was what
Bushe recommended as a remedy. " Why, hang it ! man," said the other,
"that's -washing one's feet." — "I admit, my dear fellow," replied Bushe,
gravely, " it is liable to tkat objection." — M.
t Standish O'Grady, bom in 1766, called to the bar in 1787, appointed
Attorney-General for Ireland in 1803, and made Chief Baron of the Irish Ex
chequer, which office he held until 1831, when he was created Viscount Guil-
lamore and Baron O'Grady, in the peerage of Ireland. He died April 21, 1840,
aged seventy-four. He was a man of shrewd and caustic wit, a good lawyer,
and a social companion. He was very proud of his family, which was one of the
oldest in Ireland, — M.

136 CHAKLEB KENDAL BUSHE.
was said, though I think unjustly, upon the ambitious cupidity
of his pretensions. The right of nomination was made the
subject of legal proceedings by the Crown ; and the Attorney-
General, Mr. Saurin, thought proper to controvert the claims
of the Chief Baron in the shape of a qiw warranto, which was
considered a harsh and vexatious course by the friends of the
learned Judge, in order to ascertain the naked question of
right. The latter secured Mr. Plunket as his advocate. He
had been his early-friend, and had contributed, it was said, to
raise him to the place of Solicitor when he was himself ap
pointed to that of Attorney-General, and had lived with him
upon terms of the most familiar intercourse. It was stated —
but I can not answer for the truth of the general report — that
he sent him a fee of three hundred pounds, which Mr. Plunket
returned, but which the Chief Baron's knowledge of human
nature (and no man is more deeply read in it) insisted upon
his acceptance — partly, perhaps, because he did not wish to
be encumbered with an unremunerated obligation, and no
doubt because he was convinced, as every lawyer is by his
professional experience, that the greatest talents stand in need
of a pecuniary excitation, and that the emotions of friendship
must be stimulated by that sense of duty which is imposed by
the actual perception of gold.* I am sure that Mr. Plunket
would have strained his mind to the atmost pitch, without this
additional incentive, upon behalf of his learned friend ; but
still the Chief Baron exhibited his accustomed sagacity, in in
sisting upon the payment of a fee.
This was a great cause. The best talents at the bar were
arrayed upon both sides. The issue was one of the highest
importance, and to which the legislature looked forward with
anxiety. The character of one of the chief Judges of the land
was in some degree at stake, as well as the claims which he
had so enterprisingly advanced ; and every circumstance con
spired to impart an interest to the proceedings, which does not
* It is recorded of the eminent Dr. Radcliffe, founder of the library at Ox
ford which bears his name, that when he felt unwell he used always to take a
guinea out of one pocket and deposite it in another (as a fee), before he would
feel his own pulse and prescribe for himself. — M.

137
frequently arise. Mr. Saurin stated the case for the Crown
with his usual solemnity and deliberation, and with that accu
racy and simplicity which render him so valuable an advocate
in a court of equity. He was followed by Mr. Plunket, who
entered warmly into the feelings of his client, and thought that
an unfair mode of proceeding had been adopted in his regard.
He exhibited in his reply that fierce spirit of sarcasm which
he has not yet fully displayed in the House of Commons,
though it is one of the principal ingredients in his eloquence.
His metaphors are generally sneers, and his flowers of speech
are the aconite in full blow. He did not omit the opportunity
of falling upon his political antagonist, in whom he left many
a scar, which, though half-healed, are visible to the present
day. His oration was as much a satire as an argument, and
exhibited in their perfection the various attributes of his mind.
As for Bushe, who had to reply, his oratorical ambition was
in all probability powerfully excited by the sentiment of emu
lation, and he exerted all the resources of his intellect in the
contest. His speech was a masterpiece ; and in the general
opinion, in those parts of it which principally consisted of de
clamatory vituperation, he won the palm from his competitor.
He was pure, lofty, dignified, and generously impassioned. If
his reasoning was not so subtile and condensed, it was more
guileless and persuasive, and his delivery far more impressive
and of a higher and moi'e commanding tone. A very accurate
and cold-blooded observer would have perceived, perhaps, in
the speech of Mr. Plunket, a deeper current of thought and a
more vigorous and comprehensive intellect : but the great pro
portion of a large assembly would have preferred the eloquence
of Bushe. The true value of it can not he justly estimated by
any particular quotations, as the chief merit of all his speeches
consists in the unity and proportion of the whole, rather than
the beauty and perfection of the details.*
The great reputation obtained by Mr. Plunket in the House
of Commons, and which has given him a sway so much more
important, and a station so much more valuable than any pro-
* Brougham said of Bushe's five hours' speech in the Trimbleston cause, that
the narrative of Livy himself did not surpass that great effort. — M.

138 CHAELES KENDAL BUSHE.
fessional elevation, no matter how exalted, can bestow, must
have often excited in the mind of Mr. Bushe, as well as in his
admirers, a feeling of regret that he did not offer himself as a
candidate for a seat in the Imperial Parliament. It is the opin
ion of all those who have had the opportunity of hearing Mr.
Bushe, that he would have made a very great figure in the
English House of Commons ; and for the purpose of enabling
those who have not heard him to form an estimate of the like
lihood of his success in that assembly, and of the frame and
character of his eloquence, a general delineation of this accom
plished advocate may not be inappropriate.
The first circumstance which offers itself to the mind of any
man, who recalls the recollection of Bushe, in order to furni,sh
a description of his rhetorical attributes, is his delivery. In
bringing the remembrance of other speakers of eminence to
my contemplation, their several faculties and endowments
present themselves in a different order, according to the pro
portions of excellence to each other which they respectively
bear. I thinking, for example, of Mr. Fox, the torrent of his
vehement and overwhelming logic is first before me. ... If
I should pass to his celebrated antagonist, I repose upon the
majesty of his amplification. The wit of Sheridan,* the bla-
* Richard Brills WSheri dan, boi-n at Dublin in 1751, died in London, July
7j__^1816. He was eminentlv"HisSiiguishe,d...a5 a-jadt. boitoaapanion, orator,
politieian, and.. di-amati^-y-at-a_tiHl£.jadienu»esiinent men were abundant! He
was the friend of Fox, and long the intimate of the Prince of Wales. Habits
of impi'ovidence and exti-avagance made him constantly in difficulties. Intem
perate habits ruined bis health, and he died, broken in spirit, and in great
want. His wit and eloquence were remarkable. Having stated that he never
spoke well until after he had drank a couple of bottles of port. Father O'Leary
said " this was like, a porter ; he could not get ou without a load on his head."
When he wrote, he always drank. " A glass of wine," he used to say, "would
encourage the bright thought to como : and then it was right to take another to
reward it for coming." — Moore's Life of Sheridan, although naturally apologetic
for its subject, is a brilliant record of a brilliant c;u-eei-y/ Byron's opinion of
Sheridan, hastily thrown off in conversation, was this :^ Whatever Sheridan
hiSudciTiP nr nhosen to do has been par excellence, always the best of its kind.
He has written the best comedy (School for Scandal), the best opera (the
DuOTna — in my mind far better than that St. Giles's lampoon. The Beggar's
Q^eiaJ^fB^best farce (The Critic — it is only too good for an after-piece), and
the bestsidiiess (Monologue on Garrick), and to crown all, delivered the very

LORD ERSKINE. 139
zing imagination and the fantastic drollery of Curran, the
forensic and simple vigor of Erskine,* and the rapid, versatile,
best oration (the famous Reform Speech), ever conceived or heard in this
country."**p When Sheridan heard this compliment, shortly before his death,
he bm-st yito tears. — Moore's own tribute of the same date was less compli
mentary. In his " Two-Penny Post-Bag," describing a fashionable dinner in
London, he said : —
" The brains were near Sherry, and once had been fine,
But, of late, they had lain so long soaking in wine.
That, though we, from courtesy, still choose to call
These brains very fine, they were no brains at all."
^Compare this, also, with Byron's Monody in which he says that —
" Nature fonned but one such man,
And broke the die, in moulding Sheridan,"
and Moore's own later mention of him as —
" The pride of the palace, the bower, and the hall,
The orator — dramatist — minstrel — who ran
Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all." — M,
* Thomas Erskine, third son of the Earl of Buchan, a, Scottish peer, w^a
bom in 1750. After serving in the navy and the army he went to the bar in
1778. Five years after (which was unusually rapid) he was made King's
Counsel — a rank which advances the status of him who receives it. In the
same year he entered Parliament. As an advocate (for he never was much of
a lawyer) he obtained great practice and much eminence. In politics he sided
with Fox, and thus became intimate with the Prince of Wales, who made him
his Attomey-General — a post which he lost on undertaking the defence of
Thomas Paine, in 1792, when prosecuted for publishing " The Rights of Man."
His subequent defence of Hardy, Home Tooke, and others, charged with high
treason, and his vindication of the rights of the subject and the liberty of the
press, made him extremely popular. His pamphlet on the War with France,
ran through -forty-eight editions, owing to his name alone, for it was not well
written. In 1802, he resumed his official connection with the Prince of Wales,
and, in 1806, on Pitt's death, was created Lord Erskine and made Lord Chan
cellor, but had to resign in 1807, when the ministry broke up. ^He obtained the
usual retiring pension of four thousand pounds sterling a year (it is five thou
sand pounds sterling), which is considered a right in England, where a lawyer
can not go back to practice at the .bar after having filled the ofiice of judge.
He soon sank into obscurity, and became involved in debtTV Lord Erskine died
in 1823. He had no success in Parliament, where, for the most part, barristers
accustomed to speak to the array of judge, juiy, and counsel, resemble the man
spoken of by Locke, in his chapter on the association of ideas, who having
learned to dance in a room where his trunk lay, could never dance afterward
, ¦ where that trunk was not present to witness his agility. Erskine wj^^ ^Pif(j"d
of talking of himself that he was nick-named and caricatured as " Counsellor

140 CHABI.es KENDAL BUSHE.
and incessant intensity, of Plunket — ^are the first associations
which connect themselves with their respective names. But
there is no one peculiar faculty of mind which suggests itself
in the first instance as the characteristic of Mr. Bushe, and
which presses into the van of his qualifications as a puhlie
speaker. The corporeal image of the man himself is brought
at once into the memory. I do not think of any one distin
guishing attribute in the shape of a single intellectual abstrac
tion — it is a picture that I have hefore me.
There is a certain rhetorical heroism in the expression of
his countenance, when enlightened and inflamed, which I have
not witnessed in the faces of other men. The phrase may,
perhaps, appear too extravagant and Irish ; hut those who
have his physiognomy in their recollection, will not think that
the word is inapplicable. The complexion is too sanguineous
and ruddy, hut has no murkiness or impurity in its flush : it is
indicative of great fullness, but, at the same time, of great
vigor of temperament. The forehead is more lofty than ex
pansive, and suggests itself to he the residence of an elevated
rather than of a comprehensive mind. It is not so much
" the dome of thought," as "the palace of the soul." It has
¦ none of the deep furrows and intellectual indentures which are
observable in the forehead of Plunket, but is smooth, polished,
and marble. The eyes are large, globular, and blue ; ex
tremely animated with idea, hut without any of that diffusive
irradiation which belongs to the expression of genius. They
are filled with a serene light, but have not much brilliancy or
fire. The mind within them seems, however, to be all activity
and life, and to combine a singular mixture of intensity and
deliberation. The nose is lightly arched, and with sufficient
breadth of the nostrils (which physiognomists consider as a
type of eloquence) to furnish the associations of daring and
Ego." — Once, on a trial of a patent for a shoe-buckle, he exclaimed, "How
would my ancestors have looked at this specimen of modem dexterity?" and
went on to laud hia ancestors. Mingay, on the other side contemptuously re
marked that if Erskine's sans-culotte ancestors would have wondered at his
shoe-buckle, their astonishment would have been yet greater at — hie shoes a-nd
ttockings; the Scotch Highlanders wore neither. — M.

HIS EXPEESSIVE FACE. 141
of power, and terminates with a delicacy and chiseled elegance
of proportion, in which it is easy to discover the polished irony
and refined satire in which he is accustomed to indulge. But
the mouth is the most remarkable feature in his countenance :
it is endowed with the greatest variety of sentiment, and con
tains a rare assemblage of oratorical qualities. It is charac
teristic of force, firmness, and precision, and is at once affable
and commanding, proud and kind, tender and impassioned,
accurate and vehement, generous and sarcastic, and is capable
of the most conciliating softness and the most impetuous ire.
Tet there is something artificial about it, from a lurking
consciousness of its own expression. Its smile is the great
instrument of its effects, but appears to he too sj'stematic :
yet it is susceptible of the nicest gradations. It merely flashes
and disappears, or, in practised obedience to the will, streams
over the whole countenance in a broad and permanent illumin
ation : at one moment it just passes over the lips, and dies at
the instant of its birth ; and at another, bursts out into an
exuberant and overflowing joyousness, and seems caught, in
the fullness of its hilarity, from the face of Comus himself.
But it is to satire that it is principally and most effectually ap
plied. It is the glitter of the poisoned sneer that is leveled at
the heart.
The man who is gifted with these powers of physiognomy
is, naturally enough, almost too prodigal of their use : and a
person who watched Mr. Bushe would perceive, that he fre
quently employed the abundant resources of his countenance
instead of the riches of his mind. With him, indeed, a look
is often sufficient for all purposes. It
" ConKfi^ajt libel in a frown.
And winks a reputation down."
There is a gentleman at the Irish bar, Mr. Henry Deane
Grrady,* one of whose eyes he has himself designated as "his
* Henry Deane Grady was a barrister of some celebrity in Ireland. He long
had a large income as one of the counsel to the Irish Commissioners of Cus
tom and Excise, and retired on a pension of two thousand pounds sterling a
year. He had what O'Connell used to call " a swivel eye," which he could
bring to bear, curiously enough, upon a jury. His wink, it was declared, said
OB much as many a rival's speech. — M.

142 CHARLES KENDAL BUSHE.
jury eye ;" and, indeed, from his frequent application of its
ludicrous qualifications, which the leai-ned gentleman often
substitutes in the place of argument, even where argument
might be obviously employed, has acquired a sort of profes
sional distortion, of which he appears to be somewhat singu
larly proud. Mr. Bushe does not, it is true, rely so much upon
this species of ocular logic ; but even he, with all his good
taste, carries it to an extreme. It never amounts to the buf
foonery of the old school of Irish barristers, who were addicted
to a strange compound of tragedy and farce ; but still it is
vicious from its excess.
The port and attitude of Mr. Bushe are as well suited to the
purposes of impressiveness as his countenance and its expres
sion. His form, indeed, is rather too corpulent and heavy, and
if it were not concealed in a great degree by his gown, would
be considered ungainly and inelegant. His stature is not
above the middle size ; but his chest is wide and expansive,
and lends to his figure an aspect of sedateness and strength.
In describing the ablest of his infernal senate, Milton has
particularly mentioned the "breadth of his "Atlantean shoul
ders." The same circnmstance is specified by Homer in his
picture of Ulysses ; and however many speakers of eminence
have overcome the disadvantages of a weak and slender con
figuration, it can not he doubted that we associate with dignity
and wisdom an accompaniment of massiveness and power.
His gesture is of the first order. It is finished and rounded
with that perfect care, which the orators of antiquity bestowed
upon the external graces of eloquence, and is an illustration
of the justice of the observation made by the master of them
all, that action was not only the chief ingredient, but almost
the exclusive constituent, of excellence in his miraculous art.
There is unquestionably much of that native elegance about
it, which is to the body what fancy and imagination are to the
mind, and which no efforts of the most laborious diligence can
acquire. But the heightening and additions of deep study are
apparent. The most minute particulars are attended to. So
far, indeed, has an observance of effect been carried, that, in
serious obedience to the ironical precept of the satirist, he

HIS POLISHED DELIVERY. 143
wears a large gold ring, which is frequently and ostentatiously
displayed upon his weighty and commanding hand. But it is
the voice of this fine speaker which contains the master-spell
of his perfections. I have already mentioned its extraordinary
attributes, and, indeed, it must be actually heard in order to
form any appreciation of its effects.
It must be acknowledged by the admirers of Mr. Bushe, that
his delivery constitutes his chief merit as an advocate, for his
other powers, however considerable, do not keep pace with it.
His style and diction are remarkably conspicuous and clear,
but are deficient in depth. He has a remarkable facility in
the use of simple and unelahorated expression, and every word
drops of its own accord into that part of the sentence to which
it most properly belongs. The most accurate ear could not
easily detect a single harshness, or one inharmonious concur
rence of sounds, in the course of his longest and least pre
meditated speech. But, at the same time, there is some want
of power in his phraseology, which is not either very original
or picturesque. He indulges little in his imagination, from a
dread, perhaps, of falling into those errors to which his coun
trymen are so prone, by adventuring upon the heights which
overhang them. But I am, at the same time, inclined to
suspect that nature has not conferred that faculty in great
excellence upon him. An occasional flush gleams for a mo
ment over his thoughts, but it is less the lightning of the
imagination, than the warm exhalation of a serene and mete
oric fancy.*
Curran, with all his imperfecti )ns, would frequently redeem
the obscurity of his language, by a single expression that
threw a wide and piercing illumination far around him, and
left a track of splendor upon the memory of his audience
which was slow to pass away ; but, if Bushe has avoided the
defects into which the ambition and enthusiasm of Curran
* Lord Brougham, who did not make Bushe's acquaintance until 1839, when
he went to London to give evidence before the Irish Committee in the House
of Lords, then formed the veiy high opinion of him which he expressed in his
StcUesmen. He said, " all that one had heard of the wonderiul fascination of
his manner, both at the bar and upon the bench, became easily credible to those
who heard his evidence." — M.

144 CHARLES KENDAL BUSHE.
were accustomed to hurry him, he has not approached him in
richness of diction, or in that elevation of thought to which
that great speaker had the power of raising his hearers with
himself. He was often " led astray," but it was " by light
from Heaven." On the other hand, the more level and sub
dued cast of thinking and of phrase, which have been adopted
by Mr. Bushe, are better suited to cases of daily occurrence ;
and_I_ownjhat I should prefer him for my advocate, in any
4s»HSft«tion- -which required the art of exposition, and the
-elireidjrtitig-qtiality which is so important in the conduct of
-0»di»ary affairs. He has the power of simplifying in the
highest degree. He evolves, with a surprising facility, the
nujst, intricate facts from the most embarrassing complication,
aftd. .I5e,dnces, in a moment, a chaotic heap of incongruous
materials into symmetry and order. In what is called " the
narration" in discourses upon rhetoric, his talent is of the first
rank. He clarifies and methodises every topic upon which he
dwells, and makes the obscurest subject perspicuous and trans
parent to the dullest mind.
His wit is perfectly gentlemanlike and pure.* It is not so
vehement and sarcastic as that of Plunket, nor does it grope
for pearls, like the imagination of Curran, in the midst of foul
ness and ordure. It is full of smooth mockery and playfulness,
and dallies with its victim with a sort of feline elegance and
grace. But its gripe is not the less deadly for its procrasti
nation. His wit has more of the qualities of raillery than of
imagination. He does not accumulate grotesque images to
gether, or surprise by the distance of the objects between which
he discovers an analogy. He has nothing of that spirit of
whim which pervaded the oratory of Curran, and made his
mind appear at moments like a transmigration of Hogarth.
Were a grossly ludicrous similitude to offer itself to him, he
would at once discard it as incompatible with that chastised
* His conversation merited Brougham's eulogy that "nothing could be more
delightful." His vrit came without effort. Once, when two bishops declared
that, in choosing the officers of the Ecclesiastical Board, they must vote for the
nominees of the minister, to whom they owed their mitres, Bushe sent a slip
to Plunket, " It is he that hath made us and not we ourselves : we are hig
people, and the sheep of his pasture." — M.

HIS EAST AND EVEN STYLE. 145
and subjugated ridicule in which alone he permits himself to
indulge. But from this circumstance he draws a considerable advan
tage. The mirth of Curran was so broad, and the convulsion
of laughter, which by his personations (for his delivery often
bordered upon a theati-ical audacity) he never failed, when
ever he thought proper, to produce, disqualified his auditors
and himself for the more sober investigations of truth. His
transitions, therefore, were frequently too abrupt ; and with
all his mastery over his art, and that Protean quality by which
he passed with an astonishing and almost divine facility into
every different modification of style and thought, a just gra
dation from the extravagance of merriment to the depth of
pathetic emotion could not always be preserved. Bushe, on
the other hand, never finds it difficult to recover himself.
Whenever he deviates from that sobriety which becomes the
discussions of a court of justice, he retraces his steps and re
turns to seriousness again, not only with perfect ease, but with
out even leaving a perception of the change. His manner is
admirably chequered, and the various topics which he employs,
enter into each other by such gentle and elegant degrees, that
all the parts of his speech bear a just relation, and are as well
proportioned as the several limbs of a fine statue to the gene
ral composition of the whole. This unity, which in all the arts
rests upon the same sound principles, is one of the chief merits
of Mr. Bushe as a public speaker.
There is a fine natural vein of generous sentiment running
through his oratory. !Uhas often heen said that true elo-
quence could not exist in the "absence of good moral qualities.
?In opposition to this maxim of ethical criticism, the example
of some highly-gifted but vicious men has been appealed to ;
but it must be remembered, in the first place, that most of
those whose deviations from good conduct are considered to
afford a practical refutation of this tenet (which was laid down
by the greatest orator of antiquity) were not engaged in the
discussion of private concerns, in which, generally speaking,
an appeal to moral feeling is of most frequent occurrence ; and
in the next place, there can be little doubt, that although a
Vol. I.— 7

146 CHARLES KKNDAL BUSHE.
series of vicious indulgences may have adulterated their na
tures, they must have been endowed with a large portion of
generous instinct. However their moral vision might have
heen gradually obscured, they could not have been born blind
to that sacred light which they knew how to describe so well.
Nay, more : I will venture to aflSrm, that, in their moments of
oratorical enthusiasm, they must have been virtuous men.
As the best amongst us fall into occasional error, so in the
spirit of lenity to that human nature to which we ourselves
belong, we should cherish the hope that there are few indeed
so bad, as not in imagination at least to relapse at intervals to
better sentiment and a nobler cast of thought. However the
fountains of the heart may have been dried and parched up,
enough must at least remain to show that there had been a
living spring within them. At all events there can be no elo
quence without such an imitation of virtue, as to look as beau
tiful as the original from which the copy is made. Mr. Bushe,
I confidently believe, bears "the image stamped upon his breast,
and has only to feel there, in order to give utterance to those
sentiments which give a moral dignity and elevation to his
speeches. His whole life, at least, is in keeping with his ora
tory ;* and any one who heard him would be justly satisfied that
* Charles Kendal Bushe, born in January, 1767, at Kilmurry (the ancient
seat of his family, which he eventually repurchased after the extravagance of
his relatives had lost it), entered Trinity CoUege, Dublin, in 1782,;;— thgyear
"f IrfilaPiri'Si indpppnrlpnpp He soon became one of the most eloquent deba
ters in the Historical Society, where he had Plunket as a rival. At that time,
the gallery of the Irish House of Commons was open to tbe University students,
provided they wore their academic attire. Bushe was a constant attendant in
that great school for orators. In 1793, he was called to the bar, and speedily
succeeded there. In 1799, he entered Parliament, where he was second only
to Plunket in opposing the Union. In 1805, he had reached such a station at
the bar, as to justify his being made one of the King's Sergeants, and in the
same year. Lord Hardwicke being Viceroy, was appointed Solicitor-General.
This was a concession to the liberal cause, for Bushe was known to be friendly
to Catholic Emancipation, though, after the Union, he had taken no part in
politics. He continued in his office under "All the Talents" Ministry of 1806-'7,
and was retained in that office, under successive administrations, until early in
1822, when Saurin, put over his head in 1807, as Attorney-General, waived
his claims to the Chief Justiceship, on Downes' retirement, and 'Bushe was ap
pointed. As a judge, Bushe gave general satisfaction, for more than twenty

LORD OLONCURET's CASE. 147
he had heen listening to a high-minded, amiable, and honora
ble man.
The following extract from one of his best speeches will
illustrate the quality to which I have alluded, as well as fur
nish a favorable example of the general tone of his eloquence.*
He' is describing the forgiveness of a husband; and, as this
article has already exceeded the bounds which I had prescrib
ed to myself, I shall conclude with it : " It requires obdurate
and habitual vice and practised depravity to overbear the nat
ural workings of the human heart : this unfortunate woman
had not strength farther to resist. She had been seduced, she
had been depraved, her soul was burdened with a guilty se
cret;* but she was young in crime and true to nature. She
could no longer bear tjie load of her own conscience — she was
years dm-ing- he held that office. As an advocate at Nisi Prius, few men won
more verdicts. He had tact for which Scarlett was eminent, at the English
bar, but he also had genius, eloquence, and wit, which Scarlett had not. His
manner has already been noticed ; John Kemble called him " the most perfect
actor off the stage.'* As a forensic speaker, clearness of statement was his
great merit. — Bushe married the sister of Sir Philip Crampton, the Surgeon-
General of Ireland and father of the present British Minister at Washington.
He was offered a peerage and declined it. — In 1842, he retired frem the bench,
on a pension of three thousand pounds sterling a year. He died, at his son's
seat near Dublii?, on July 7, 1843. — M.
* The nobleman was Lord Cloncnrry, and his guilty wife, from whom he
was divorced, was daughter of General Morgan. Lord Cloncurry was bom
in August, 1773, and died at Blackrock, near Dublin, October, 1853. He
entered early into public affairs, and was mixed up with them for more than
half a century. He was educated at Oxford, and joined the United Irishmen,
on his return. The Emmetts, Sampson, and O'Connor, were his close friends.
He established a bi-anch of the united body in London, was suspected by the
Government, arrested, and examined before the Privy Council, when he ad
mitted that he was a member of the society. He was cautioned and discharged,
but was again apprehended, committed to the Tower, and detained there for
two years. From that time he was a staunch Liberal, and, though a Protes
tant, the earnest advocate of the Catholic Claims. He was O'ConneU's per
sonal friend and admirer — though he did not go quite to the same extent iu
politics. The Whig Ministry gave him an English Peerage. A Fp.y,„-;^Fira
ago, he published his Recollections — full of anecdotes, and written with great
cleiamesT. ' He bequeathed a handsome legacy to the Dublin Library — provi
ded it assume the more national name of the Hibernian Athenseum. Cecil
Lawless, his youngest son, avowed himself a Repealer, in 1846, when he was
made member for Clonmel. — M.

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

HIS PROMOTION. 149
arms the tainted and faithless woman who had betrayed him;
he refused to expose himself to the scorn of the world and his
own contempt; — he submitted to misery ; he could not brook
dishonor."* * Since the above article was written [it was published in October, 1822],
Mr. Bushe has been raised to the ofiice of Chief Justice of the King's Bench,
in consequence of the resignation of Mr. Downes, who has at last proved him
self possessed of the Christian virtue which Mr. Bushe fjised to say was the
only one he wanted. — M.

WILLIAM SAUEIN.
Mr. Saurin is the son of a Presbyterian clergyman, who fol
lowed the duties of his pious but humble calling in the north
of Ireland. His grandfather was a French Protestant, who,
after the revocation of the edict of Nantz, sought an asylum in
Ireland. He is said to have belonged to the family of the cel
ebrated preacher of his name.* Mr. Saurin was educated in
the University of Dublin. It does not appear that he was dis
tinguished hy any signal proficiency, either in literature or in
science. A collegiate reputation is not a necessary precursor
to professional success. He was called to the bar in the year
1780. His progress was slow, and for thirteen years he re
mained almost unknown. Conscious of his secret merits, he
was not disheartened, and employed that interval in accumu
lating the stores of legal knowledge. He had few qualities,
indeed, which were calculated to bring him into instantaneous
notice. He wrought his way with an obscure diligence, and,
indeed, it was necessary that he should attain the light by a
long process of exfodation.
To this day, there is too frequent an exhibition of boister
ous ability at the Irish bar ; but in the olden time, the qualifi-
* William Saurin, born in 1757, was called to the Irish bar in 1780, received
a patent of precedence (immediately after the Prime Sergeant, Attorney and
Solicitor General) in July, 1798, was made Attomey-General in May, 1807, and
retained that office until January, 1822, when Mr. Plunket succeeded him. It
was expected, from his high attainments, and the return of his party to office,
that he would have succeeded Sir Anthony Hart, as Chancellor, in 1830. Mr.
Saurin, although a strong political partisan, had many personal friends, even
among his opponents. His honor, honesty, and ability, were unimpeached.
He died in Dublin, in February, 1839, in his eighty-third year. — M.

LORD CLONMRL. 151
cations of a lawyer were measured in a great degi*ee hj his
powers of vociferation. Mr. Saurin was imperfectly versed in
the stentorian logic wliich prevailed in the roar of Irish nisi
prius; neither had he the matchless imperturbability of front,
to which the late Lord Clonmel* was indebted for his brazen
* John Scott, who eventually became Earl of Clonmel, Chief-Justice of Ire
land, was bom in June, 1739. His parents were in a very humble rank of life.
While at school, he rendered some small sei"vice to young (afterward Lord)
Carleton, whose father went to the expense of sending him to college, and
being called to the Irish bar. He speedily rose to eminence, and entered the
Irish Parliament on the recommendation of Lord Lifford, then Chancellor. In
1774 he was made Solicitor, and in 1777 Attorney-General, which he remained
until 1782. He was made Chief-Justice of the King's Bench in 1784 — with
which office he also held the rich sinecure of Clerk of the Pleas in the Court
of Exchequer — and was created an Irish peer, as Baron Erlsfort. In 1789, he
was made Viscount Clonmel, and was further advanced to an Eaiidom in 1793.
He died in May, 1798, leaving a fortune of twenty-two thousand pounds ster
ling a year. — This man, whose talents were great, may be said to have got on
by sheer impudence and bullying. He knew the world well, and how to play
his cards in it. Where argument would not succeed, he endeavored to defeat
his opponent by duelling. Among others, he fought with Curran. He was
master of sarcasm and ridicule, and unscrupulous in their use. In private life,
he was amiable, witty, and agreeable ; full of anecdote, indelicate and coarse,
but amusing. On the bench he was overbearing, particularly to Curran, his old
opponent. Having publicly insulted Mr. Hackett, one of their body, the bar
held a meeting, at which they resolved, with only one dissentient voice, " that
until his Lordship publicly apologized, no bajrrister would either take a brief,
appear in the King's Bench, or sign any pleadings for that Court." Accord
ingly, when the Judges sat, neither counsel nor attorneys were to be seen. The
result w^as, that the Chief-Justice, Lord Clonmel, published an apology in the
newspapers, which was adroitly dated as if written on the evening of the offence,
and before the meeting of the bar, therefore voluntary. Some "time before he
died, a report of his illness got out. " Do you believe it?'' said some one to
Curran. The reply was, " I believe that he is scoundrel enough to live or die,
just as it suits his own convenience.^' His personal appearance was remarkable.
He had an immense hanging pair of cheeks — vulgarly called jowls — and a
huge treble chin, to correspond. Looking back, toward the close of his politi
cal career, as behooves all men to do as they pass into the shadows of the vale
of life, Lord Clonmel is said to have remarked, "As to myself, if I were to
begin life again, I would rather be a chimney-sweeper than connected with the
Irish Government." Two ^^g^^Clonmel's maxims are worthy of being re
membered. One was, " WhaJlaMJe*~«i«y-^hG..- done in the course of the week,
always do on Monday morning." The other, which he gave as applicable to
mameof life, was — " Never do anything for peace-sake : if you do, you buy all

152 WILLIAM SAUKIN.
coronet ; but his substantial deserts were sure to appear at last.
If he could not fly, he had the strength and the tenacity requi
site to climb. His rivals were engaged in the pursuit of politi
cal distinction and oratorical renown ; all his labors, as well
as his predilections, were confined to his profession. While
others were indulging in legislative meditations, he was buried
in the common law. An acute observer would have seen in
his unostentatious assiduity the omen of a tardy but secure
success. A splendid intellect will, in all likelihood, ascend to
permanent eminence, but the odds of good fortune are in favor
of the less conspicuous faculties.
Plunket and Saurin have risen to an equality in professional
distinction; but, when they both commenced their career, upon
a sober calculation, the chances would have been found, I think,
upon the side of the latter. Like the slow camel and the Ara
bian courser; both may he fitted to the desert ; and, although
the iaore aspiring and fleeter spirit may traverse in a shorter
period the waste of hardships and discouragement which lies
between it and success, while, with all its swiftness and alac
rity, it requires an occasional relief from some external source
of refreshment and of hope : yet, bearing its restoratives in it
self, the more slow and persevering mind pursues its progress
with an unabated constancy, and often leaves its more rapid
bnt less enduring competitor drooping far behind, and exhausted
hy the labors of its desolate and arid course.
After many years of disappointment, perhaps, but not of
despondency, Mr. Saurin's name began to be whispered in the
Hall. The little business with which he had been intrusted.
was discharged with such efficiency, that he gradually acquired
a reputation for practical utility among the attorneys of the
north. Many traits of the Scotch character are observable in
the Presbjterian colony which was established in that part of
Ireland ; and their mutualit)' of support is among the honora
ble peculiarities which mark their origin from that patriotic
and self-sustaining people. They may be said to advance un-
future tranquillity only by concession." When asked if this last were his own
rule of practice, he confessed that it was not, as a philosopher had an easier
Hfe of it than a soldier! — M.

HIS BUSINESS HABITS. 153
der a testudo. It is remarked at the Irish bar that a northern
attorney seldom employs a southern advocate. Mr. Saurin,
though descended from a Gallic progenitor, had, I believe, some
auspicious mixture of Caledonian blood (with a French face,
he has a good deal of the Scotchman in his character) ; and
that circumstance, together with the locality of his birth, gave
him claims to the patronage of the attorneys of his circuit.
Those arbiters of fortune recognised his merits. It was soon
perceived by these sagacious persons that a good argument is
more valuable than a flower of speech, and that the lawyer who
nonsuits the plaintiff is as efficacious as the advocate who draws
tears from the jury.
Mr. Saurin's habits of despatch were also a signal recom
mendation. To this day, under a pressure of various occu
pancy, he is distinguished for a regularity and promptitude,
which are not often to be found among the attributes of the
leading members of the Irish Bar. Most, indeed, of their more
eminent advocates are " illustrious diners-out." It is provo
king to see the fortunes of men hanging in miserable suspense
upon their convivial procrastinations. Mr. Saurin still presents
an exemplary contrast to these dilatory habits ; and it is
greatly creditable to him that lie should persevere, from a
sense of duty in a practice which was originally adopted as a
means of success.
The first occasion on which he appears to have grown into
general notice, was afforded at a contestexl election. At that
period, which was about sixteen years after he had heen called
to the bar, a lawyer at an Irish election was almost a gladiator
by profession ; his pistols were the chief implements of reason
ing to which he thought it necessary to resort. " Ratio
ultima," the motto which the great Frederick caused to be
engraven upon his cannon,* would not have been an inappro-
* George III. presented *' the Grreat Lord Clive" (as he is cMled, to distin
guish him from the small-minded inheritors of his title) with one of the cannon
which had been captured, by Lord C, in the Indian wars. This piece of ord
nance, which remains at Powis Castle, in Wales (the seat of the Olive family),
has engraven on it an inscription, stating the donor's name, but the sentence
" Ultima ratio regum" (the last argument of Kings) is certainly a curious motto
on a royal gift. — M. 1*

164 WILLIAM SAURIN.
priate designation of the conclusive arguments which were
then so much in use in Hibernian dialectics. I am not aware,
that Mr. Saurin was ever accounted an eminent professor in
this school of logic : upon this occasion, however, he. distin
guished himself by qualifications very distinct from the bar
barous accomplishments which bring intellect and dullness to
such a disastrous level. His extensive and applicable knowl
edge, his dispassionate perspicuity, and minute precision, won
him a concurrence of applause. He became known upon his
circuit, and his fame soon after extended itself to the metropo
lis. His progress was as swiftly accelerated as it had pre
viously been slow : every occasion on which he was employed
furnished a new vent to his accumulated information. He was
at length fairly launched ; and when once detached from the
heavy incumbrances in which he had been involved, he made
a rapid and conspicuous way; and it was soon perceived that
he could carry more sail than gilded galliots which had started
upon the full flood of popularity before him. He soon passed
them by, and rode at last in that security which most of them
were never destined to attain.
In the year 1798, Mr. Saurin was at the head of his profes
sion, and was not only eminent for his talents, but added to
their influence the weight of a high moral estimation, The
political disasters of the country furnished evidence of the
high respect in which he was held by the members of his own
body. The Eebellion broke out, and the genius of loyalty
martialized the various classes of the community. The good
citizens of Dublin were submitted to a somewhat fantastic
metamorphosis : the Gilpins of the metropolis, to the delighted
wonder of their wives and daughters, were travestied into
scarlet, and strutted, in grim importance and ferocious security,
in the uneasy accoutrements of a bloodless warfare.
The love of glory became contagious, and the attorneys,
solicitors, and six-clerks, felt the intense novelty of its charms.
The Bar could not fail to participate in the ecstasy of patriot
ism : the boast of Cicero became inverted in this access of
forensic soldiership, and every Drances, "loud in debate and
bold in peaceful council," was suddenly transformed into a

THK LAWTEe's YEOlLiNRT COEPS. 155
wan-ior. The " toged counsel" exhibited a spectacle at once
ludicrous and lamentable ; Justice was stripped of her august
ceremony and her reverend forms, and joining in this grand
political masquerade, attired herself in the garb, and feebly
imitated the aspect of Bellona. The ordinary business of the
courts of law was discharged by barristers in regimentals ; the
plume nodded over the green spectacle — the bag was trans
muted "in the cartridge-pouch — the flowing and full-bottomed
wig was exchanged for the casque; the chest, which years of
study had bent into a professional stoop, was straightened in
a stiff imprisonment of red ; the flexible neck, which had been
stretched in the distension of vituperative harangue, was en
closed in a high and rigid collar. The disputatious and dingy
features of every minute and withered sophist were swollen
into an unnatural bigness and burliness of look ; the strut of
the mercenary Hessian,* who realized the beau ideal of martial
ferocity, was mimicked in the slouching gait which had been
acquired by years of unoccupied perambulation in the HaU";
limbs, habituated to yielding silk, were locked in huff; the
reveille superseded the shrill voice of the crier — the disquisi
tions of pleaders were "horribly stuffed with epithets of war;"
the bayonet lay beside the pen, and the musket was collateral
to the brief.
Yet, with all this innovation upon their ordinary habits, the
Bar could not pass all at once into a total desuetude of their
more natural tendencies, and exhibited a relapse into their
professional predilections in the choice of their leader. The
athletic nobleness of figure for which Mr. Magrath,t for in-
* The Hessians were troops from Germany, brought into L-eland with some
Scotch fencible regiments, in 1798 — probably because the Government doubted
"whether the regular troops, half of whom were Irish, would fight against their
countrymen in the field. A story is told of one of the " rebels" who killed a
couple of Hessians, and was putting the contents of their pockets into his own.
A friend of his saw the conquest, and prayed hard to have one of the captures.
" No," said the conqueror, "g-o and Mil a Hessian for -yourself i" The saying
has passed into a proverb in Ireland. — M.
t Counsellor Magrath rejoiced in such longitudinal proportions, that he was
called the mathematical definition, " Length without breadth." As he is sev
eral times mentioned in these sketches, and always with reference to his inches,

15'6 WILLIAM SAURIN.
stance, is conspicuous, did not obtain their suffrages : a greiia-
dier proportion of fame, and a physical pre-eminence of height,
were not the merits which decided their preference ; they chose
Mr. Saurin for his in'tellectual stature ; and in selecting a
gentleman, in whom I am at a loss to discover one glance of
the " coup d'csil mihtaire,'' and whose aspect is among the most
unsoldierlike I have ever witnessed, they offered him an honor
able testimony of the great esteem in which he was held by
his profession. He was thus, in some degree, recognised as
the head of the body to which he belonged.
His conduct, as chief of the lawyer's corps, was patriotic
and discreet. He manifested none of those religious antipa
thies by which he has been since unhappily distinguished ; he
had no share, either in the infliction of, or the equivalent con
nivance at that system of inquisitorial excruciation, which, on
whosesoever head the guilt ought to lie, did unquestionably
exist.* His hands do not smell of blood ; and though a series
of unhappy incidents has since throwii him into the arms of the
Orange faction, to which he has been rather driven by the
rash rancor of his antagonists, than allured through the genuine
tendencies of his nature, in that period of civil commotion he
discountenanced the excesses of the party who now claim him
as their own. With all his present Toryism, he appears to
have been a Whig ; and the republican tinge of his opinions
was brought out in the great event which succeeded the Rebel
lion, and to which the government was aware that it would
inevitably lead. If they did not kindle, they allowed the fire
to rage on ; and they thought, and perhaps with justice, that
it would furnish a lurid light by which the rents and chasms
in the ruinous and ill-constructed fabric of the Irish legisla
ture would be more widely exposed. To repair such a crazy
and rotten building, many think, was impossible. It -vas
it is probable that Sheil (who was of small stature) envied him not a little. It
was to him that Tom Moore, who was quite a minikin, put the question, as he
looked lip at him, " Magrath, it is fine weather here below — how is it up tliere
aloft with you?" — Mr
* Mr. Saurin, during the pbelllon, has been seen to stiike a di-ummer of his
corps for wearing an Orange cockade.

OPPOSES THE UNION. 157
necessary that it should be thrown down* — but the name of
country (and there is a charm even in a name) has been buried
in the fall.
The Union was proposed, and Mr. Saurin threw himself into
an indignant opposition to the measure, which he considered
fatal to Ireland. He called the Bar together ; and upon his
motion, a resolution was passed by a great majority, protesting
against the merging of the country in the Imperial amalgama
tion. He was elected a member of the Irish House of Com
mons, and his appearance in that profligate convention was
hailed by Mr. Grattan, who set the highest value upon his
accession to the national cause.
Of eloquence there was already a redundant supply. Genius
abounded in the ranks of the patriots — they were ardent,
devoted, and inspired. Mr. Saurin reinforced them with his
more Spartan qualities. Grave and sincere, regarded as a
great constitutional lawyer — the peculiar representative of his
own profession — a true, but unimpassioned lover of his country,
and as likely to consult her permanent interests as to cherish
a romantic attachment to her dignity — he rose in the House
of Commons, attended with a great concurrence of impressive
circumstance. He addressed himself to great principles, and
took his ground upon the broad foundations of legislative right.
His more splendid allies rushed among the ranks of their
adversaries and dealt their sweeping invective about them ;
while Saurin, in an iron and somewhat rusty armor, and wielding
more massive and ponderous weapons, stood like a sturdy sen
tinel before the gates of the constitution. Simple and elemen
tary positions were enforced by him with a strenuous convic
tion of their truth. He denied the right of the legislature to
alienate its sacred trust. He insisted that it would amount to
a forfeiture of that estate which was derived from, and held
under the people in whom the reversion must perpetually
remain ; that they were bound to consult the will of the ma
jority of the nation, and that the will of that majority was the
foundation of all law.
• It must not be forgotten that, in most of these sketches, Mr. Sheil affected
to write as an English observer of politics and men. — M.

158 WILLIAM SAUEIN.
Generous sentiments, uttered with honest fervency, are
important constituents of eloquence ; and Mr. Saurin acquired
the fame of a distinguished speaker. His language was not
flowing orabundant — there was no soaring in his thought, nor
majesty in his elocution ; but he was clear and manly : there
was a plain vigor about him. Thought started through his
diction ; it wanted roundness and color, but it was muscular
and strong. It was not " pinguitudine nitescens." If it were
deficient in bloom and fullness, it had not a greasy and ple
thoric gloss ; it derived advantages from the absence of decora
tion, for its nakedness became the simplicity of primitive truth.
Mr. Saurin obtained a well-merited popularity. His efforts
were strenuous and unremitted ; but wbat could they avail ?
The minister had an easy task to perform : there was, at first,
a show of coyness in the- prostitute venality of the majority of
the House ; it only required an increased ardor of solicitation,
and a more fervent pressure of the " itching palm.'' No man
understood the arts of parliamentary seduction better than
Lord Castlereagh. He succeeded to the full extent of his
undertaking, and raised himself to the highest point of ambition
to which a subject can aspire.
But those who had listened to his blandishments, found, in
the emptiness of title, and in the baseness of pecuniary reward,
an inadequate compensation for the loss of personal conse
quence which they eventually sustained. In place of the
reciprocal advantages which they might have imparted and
received, hy spending their fortunes in the metropolis of their
own country, such among them as are now exported in the
capacity of representatives from Ireland are lost in utter insig
nificance. Instead of occupying the magnificent mansions
which are now falling into decay, they are domiciliated in
second stories of the lanes and alleys in the vicinity of St.
Stephen's. They may be seen every evening at Bellamy's*
* In the old House of Commons, which formerly had been a Chapel dedi
cated to St. Stephen, the refreshment-rooms were kept by Mr. Bellamy, whose
family still cater to the requirements of " the inner man," in the refectory of
the new and splendid Palace of Westminster, erected, at a cost of aome two
millions sterling, on the banks of the Thames. — M.

THE DEGKADED PEERAGE. 159
digesting their solitary meal, until the " whipper in" has aroused
them to the only purpose for which their existence is recog
nised ; or in the House itself, verifying the prophetic descrip
tion of Curran, by " sleeping in their collars under the manger
of the British minister."
The case is still worse with the anomalous nobility of the
Irish Peer.* There is a sorry mockery in the title, which is
almost a badge, as it is a product, of his disgrace. He hears
it as the snail does the painted shell elaborated from its slime.
His family are scarcely admitted among the aristocracy, and,
when admitted, it is only to he scorned. It requires the nicest
exercise of subtle stratagem, and the suppression of every
feeling of pride, on the part of an Irish lady, to effect her way
into the great patrician coteries. The scene which Miss Edge-
worth has so admirably described at the saloon of the opera-
house, in which the Irish countess solicits the haughty recog
nition of the English duchess, is of nightly recurrence. Even
great talents are not exempted from this spirit of national
depreciation. Mr. Grattan himself never enjoyed the full
dignity which ought, in every country, to have been an ap
panage to his genius. As to Lord Clare, he died of a broken
heart. The Duke of Bedford crushed the plebeian peer with a
single tread.f What, then, must be the case with the inferior
class of Irish senators; and how must they repine at the sui-
'* By the Act of Union, it was arranged that the Irish Peers should be repre
sented in the Imperial Parliament by twenty-eight, chosen from the whole
body, to sit for life. But many of the Irish Peers also have seats in Parliament
as possessors of English titles. Thus the Irish Marquis of Downshire has his
seat in the Imperial Parliament by virtue of his English earldom of Hillsbor
ough, and the Earl of Bessborough sits for his English barony. No Irish Peer
can represent an Irish county or borough, but the restriction does not apply out
of Ireland. Thus Viscount Palmerston, an Irish Peer, sits in the House of
Commons for the English borough of Tiverton. — M.
t iord Clare, the first Irishman who ever held the Great Seal of Ireland, was
virtual ruler of that country for years. He exhibited his hauteur to the Viceroy,
the Duke of Bedford, who — with all the pride of the Russell blood — could not
believe, at first, that any man could so insult the representative of royalty.
When assured that it was Lord Clare's wonted manner, the Duke turned his
back on him, before the Privy Council, and let business proceed as if Lord
Clare had never existed. — M.

160 WILLIAM SAUEIN.
cidal act with which, in their madness, they were tempted to
annihilate their existence !
I have dwelt upon the results of the Union, as it affected
individual importance, because Mr. Saurin appears to have
been sensible of them, and to have acted upon that sense. He
has never since that event set his foot upon the English shore.
He was well aware that he should disappear in the modern
Babylon ;* and with the worldly sagacity by which he is
characterized, when his country lost her national importance,
he preferred to the lacqueying of the English aristocracy the
enjoyment of such provincial influence as may be still obtained
in Ireland. Mr. Plunket resigned the situation of Attorney-
General in 1807. It was offered to Mr. Saurin, who accepted it.
This office is, perhaps, the most powerful in Ireland : it is
attended with great patronage, emolument, and authority.
The Attorney-General appoints the judges of the land, and
nominates to those multitudinous places with which the gov
ernment has succeeded in subduing the naturally democratic
tendencies of the bar. Every measure in any way connected
with the administration of justice originates with him. In
England the Attorney-General is consulted upon the law. In
Ireland he is almost the law itself : he not only approves,
but he directs. The personal character of Mr. Saurin gave
liim an additional sway. He gained a great individual ascen
dency over the mind of the Lord Chancellor. Iu the Castlet
Cabinet he was almost supreme ; and his authority was the
mori readily submitted to, as it was exercised without being
displayed. He was speedily furnished with much melancholy
occasion to put his power into action.
The Catholic Board assumed a burlesque attitude of defi
ance ; the press became every day more violent ; the news
papers were tissues of libels, in the legal sense of the word,
* By a flattering, national self-delusion, London is called " Modem Babylon,''
and Edinburgh the " Modern Athens." — M.
t In Ireland, " the Castle" of Dublin is the seat of government, as the Pal
ace of St. James is (or was) of England. It is the town-residence of the
Lord-Lieutenant, where his Privy Council meet, where he holds his levees and
drawing-rooms, where he gives his State-baUs, and where the departmental
officers of the Executive cany on the business of the state. — M.

HIS POLITICAL INCONSISTENCY. 161
for they were envenomed with the most deleterious truth.
Prosecutions were instituted and conducted by Mr. Saurin: an
ebullition of popular resentment was the result, and reciprocal
animosity was engendered out of mutual recrimination. The
orators were furious upon one hand, and Mr. Saurin became
enraged upon the other. His real character was disclosed in
the collision. He was abused, I admit, and vilified. The
foulest accusations were emptied, from their aerial abodes, by
pamphleteers, upon his head. The authors of the garret dis
charged their vituperations upon him. It was natural that he
should get into bad odor ; but wedded as he was to the public
interests, he should have borne these aspersions of the popular
anger with a more Socratic temper. Unhappily, however,
he was infected by this shrewish spirit, and took to scolding.
In his public speeches a weak virulence and spite were man
ifested, which, in such a man, was deeply to be deplored.
Much of the blame ought, perhaps, to attach to those who
baited him into fury; and it is not greatly to be regretted,
that many of them were gored and tossed in this ferocious
contest. The original charges brought against him were un
just; but the vehemence with which they were retorted, as
well as repelled, divested them, in some degree, of their
calumnious quality, and exemplified their truth. Mr. Saurin
should have recollected, that he had at one time given utter
ance to language nearly as intemperate himself, and had laid
down the same principles with a view to a distinct application.
He had harangued upon the will of the majority, and he for
got that it was constituted by the Papists. On a sudden he
was converted, from a previous neutrality, into the most vio
lent opponent of Roman Catholic Emancipation. I entertain
little doubt that his hostility was fully as personal as it was
constitutional. There appears to be a great inconsistency
between his horror of the Union and of the Catholics. They
are as seven to one in the immense population of Ireland;
and when they are debased by political disqualification, it can
only be justified upon the ground that it promotes the interests
of the Empire.
But Mr. Saurin discarded the idea of making a sacrifice

162 WILLIAM SAUEIN.
of Ireland to Imperial considerations, when the benefits of the
Union were pointed out. I fear, also, that he wants magna
nimity, and that his antij^.athies are influenced in part hy his
domestic recollections. His ancestors were persecuted in
France ; but his gratitude to the country in which they found
a refuge, should have suppressed any inclination to retaliate
upon the religion of the majority of its people. I shall not
expatiate upon the various incidents which distinguished this
period of forensic turmoil. Suffice it to say, that Mr. Saurin
obtained verdicts of condemnation. But his high character
and his peace of mind were affected by his ignominious suc
cess. He grew into an object of national distaste. His own
personal dispositions, which are naturally kind and good, were
materially deteriorated. Every man at the bar with liberal
opinions on the Catholic question, was regarded by him with
dislike. A single popular sentiment was a disqualification for
place. But let me turn from the less favorable points of his char
acter. This censure should he qualified by large commen
dation. His patronage was confined to his party, but it was
honorably exercised. Tlmse whom he advanced were able
and honest men. The sources of justice were never vitiated
by any unworthy preferences upon his part. Neither did he
lavish emolument on his own family. In the list of pensioners
the name of Saurin does not often bear attestation to his power.
I should add to his other merits his unaffected modesty. He
has always been easy, accessible, and simple. He had none
of the " morgue aristocratique,'' nor the least touch of official
superciliousness on his brow.
Mr. Saurin, asAttorney.General, may be said to have gov
erned Ireland for fifteen years ;* but, at the moment when he
seemed to have taken the firmest stand upon the height of his
authority, he was precipitated to the ground. The Grenvilles
joined the minister. It was stipulated that Plunket should
be restored to his former office. Mr. Saurin was offered the
place of Chief-Justice of the King's Bench, which in a fit of
splenetic vexation he had the folly to refuse. The new local
* From 1807 until Januaiy, 1822, when Mr. Plunket replaced him. — M.

OUT OF OFFICE. 163
government did not give him a moment for repentance, and he
was thrown at once from the summit of his power. There was
not a single intervening circumstance to break his precipitous
descent, and he was stunned, if not shattered, in the fall. He
might, however, have expected it ; he had no political con
nections to sustain him. He is married, indeed, to a sister of
the Marquis of Thomond ; but that alliance was a feeble ob
stacle to the movement of a great party.
His official friends immolated him to exigency, but they
would have sacrificed him to convenience. The only man in
power, perhaps, who personally lamented his ill usage, was
Lord Manners ; and even his Lordship was aware, for six
months before, of the intended change, and never disclosed it
to him in their diurnal walks to the Hall of the Four Courts.
This suppression Mr. Saurin afterward resented ; but, upon a
declaration from his friend that he was influenced by a regard
for his feelings, they were reconciled. He did not choose to
warn him, at the banquet, of the sword that he saw suspended
over his head.
He is now [1823] plain Mr. Saurin again, and he bears this
reverse with a great deal of apparent, and some real, fortitude.
When he was first deprived of his office, I watched him in the
Hall. The public eye was upon him ; and the consciousness
of general observation in calamity inflicts peculiar pain. The
joyous alacrity of Plunket was less a matter of comment than
the resigned demeanor of his fallen rival. Richard was as
much gazed at as Bolingbroke.* It was said by most of those
who saw him, that he looked as cheerful as ever. In fact,
he looked more cheerful, and that appeared to me to give evi
dence of the constraint which he put upon himself. There
was a forced hilarity about him — he wore an alertness and
vivacity, which were' not made for his temperament. His
genuine smile is flexible and easy ; but upon this occasion it
lingered with a mechanical procrastination upon the lips,
which showed that it did not take its origin at the heart.
* See Shakspere's Richard IL, Act 5, Scene 2, for the description of the
contrast between the reception of the unfortunate and unpopular Richard, and
that of his successful rival Bolingbroke. — M.

164 WILLIAM SAUEIN.
There was also too ready a proffer^of the hand to his old friends,
who gave him a warm but a silent squeeze.
I thought him a subject for study, and followed him into the
Court of Chancery. He discharged his business with more
than his accustomed diligence and skill; — but when his part
was done, and he bent his head over a huge brief, the pages
of which he seemed to turn without a consciousness of their
contents, I have heard him heave at intervals a low sigh.
When he returned again to the Hall, I have observed him in
a moment of professional leisure while he was busied with his
own solitary thoughts, and I could perceive a gradual languor
stealing over the melancholy mirth which he had been person
ating before. His figure, too, was bent and depressed, as he
walked back to the Court of Chancery ; and before he passed
through the green curtains which divide it from the Hall, I
have seen him pause fur an instant and throw a look at the
King's Bench. It was momentary, but too full of expression
to be casual, and seemed to unite in its despondency a deep
sense of the wrong which he had sustained from his friends,
and the more painful injury which he had inflicted upon him
self If Rembrandt were living in our times, he should paint a
portrait of Saurin : his countenance and deportment would
afford an appropriate subject to the shadowy pencil of that
great artist. There should he no gradual melting of colors
into each other; there should be no softness of touch, and no
nice variety of hue; there should he no sky — no flowers — no
drapery — no marble; but a grave and sober-minded man should
stand upon the canvass, with the greater proportion of his figure
in opacity and shadow, and with a strong line of light breaking
through a monastic window upon his corrugated brow. His
countenance is less serene than tranquil ; it has much deliber
ate consideration, but little depth or wisdom ; its whole ex
pression is peculiarly quiet and subdued. His eye is black
and wily, and glitters under the mass of a rugged and shaggy
eyeDrow. There is a certain sweetness in its glance, some
what at variance with the general indications of character
which are conveyed in his look. His forehead is thoughtful,

HIS PUBLIC DEMEAilOR. 165
but neither bold nor lofty. It is furrowed by long study and
recent care.
There is a want of intellectual elevation in his aspect, but
he has a cautious shrewdness and a discriminating perspica
city. With much affability and good nature ahout the mouth,
in the play of its minuter expression, a sedate and permanent
vindictiveuess may readily be found. His features are broad
and deeply founded, but they are not blunt ; without being
destitute of proportion, they are not finished with delicacy or
point. His dress is like his manners, perfectly plain and re
markable for its neat propriety. He is Avholly free from vul
garity, and quite denuded of accomplishment. He is of the
middle size, and his frame, like his mind, is compact and well
knit together. There is an intimation of slowness and suspi
cion in his movements, and the spirit of caution seems to regu
late his gait. He has nothing of the Catilinarian walk,* and
it might be readily conjectured that he was not destined for a
conspirator. His whole demeanor bespeaks neither dignity nor meanness.
There is no fraud about him ; but there is a disguise of his
emotions which borders upon guile. His passions are violent,
and are rather covered than suppressed: they have little effect
upon his exterior — the iron stove scarcely glows with the in
tensity of its internal fire. He looks altogether a worldly and
sagacious man — sly, cunning, and considerate — not ungener
ous, but by no means exalted — with some sentiment, and no
sensibility : kind in his impulses, and warped by involuntary
prejudice : gifted with the power of dissembling his own feel
ings, rather than of assuming the character of other men : more
acute than comprehensive, and subtle than refined : a man of
point and of detail : no adventurer either in conduct or specu
lation : a lover of usage, and an enemy to innovation : per
fectly simple and unaffected : one who can bear adversity well,
and prosperity still better : a little downcast in ill-fortune, and
not at all supercilious in success : something of a republican
* The passage in which Sallust describes the peculiar walk of the great Con
spirator runs thus: " Igitur color exsanguis, foedi oculi, citus modo, modo tar-
dus incessus." — M.

166 WILLIAM SAUEIN.
by nature, but fashioned by circumstances into a tory : moral,"
but not pious : decent, but not devout : honorable, but not
chivalrous : affectionate, but not tender : a man who could go
far to serve a friend, and a good way to hurt a foe : and, take
him for all in all, a useful and estimable member of society.
I have mentioned his French origin, and it is legibly ex
pressed in his lineaments and hue. In other countries, one
national physiognomy prevails through the mass of the peo
ple. In every district and in every class we meet with a
single character of face. But in Ireland, the imperfect graft
ing of colonization is easily perceived in the great variety of
countenance which is everywhere to be found : the notches
are easily discerned upon the original stock.
The Dane of Kildare is known by his erect form, his sand
ed complexion, his blue and independent eye, and the fairness
of his rich and flowing hair. The Spaniard in the west, shows
among the dominions of Mr. Martin,* his swarthy features and
his black Andalusian eye. A Presbyterian church in the
north, exhibits a quadrangular breadth of jawbone, and a
shrewd sagacity of look in its calculating and moral congrega
tion, which the best Baillie in Glasgow would not disown.
Upon the southern mountain and in the morass, the wild and
haggard face of the aboriginal Irishman is thrust upon the
traveller, through the aperture in his habitation of mud which
pays the double debt of a chimney and a door. His red and
strongly-curled hair, his angry and courageous eye, his short
* Richard Martin, described by Moore as one who
" rules
The houseless wilds of Connemara,''
was member of Parliament for many years, representing the county of Galway,
in which he possessed very large landed estates. He succeeded in passing an
act for the prevention and punishment of cruelty to animals, and was a humane
but eccentric man. His son, Thomas Martin, succeeded him as owner of the
vast Connemara estate — a domain once larger than the territoiy of many a
reigning German Prince. On his death, his daughter, Mrs. Bell Martin, came
into possession, but the estates were sold to satisfy greedy money-lenders, and
as the amount realized was too small, she came to New York, to earn her liv
ing by literature. Her novel of " Julia Howard," reprinted here, was veiy
clever. She had written other works in French. She died in New York, on
November 7, 1850, worthy of a better fate than exile and poverty. — M.

HIS SKILL AS AN ADVOCATE. 167
and blunted features, thrown at hazard into his countenance,
and that fantastic compound of intrepidity and cunning, of
daring and of treachery, of generosity and of falsehood, of
fierceness and of humor, and of absurdity and genius, which is
conveyed in his expression, is not inappropriately discovered
in the midst of crags and bogs, and through the medium of
smoke. When he descends into the city, this barbarian of art
(for he has been made so by the landlord and the law — nature
never intended him to be so), presents a singular contrast to
the high forehead, the regular features, and pure complexion
of the English settler.
To revert to Mr. Saurin (from whom I ought not, perhaps,
to have deviated so far), there is still greater distinctness, as
should be the case, from their proximity to their source, in the
descendants from the French Protestants who obtained an asy
lum in Ireland. The Huguenot is stamped upon them ;* I can
read in their faces, not only the relics of their country, but of
their religion. They are not only Frenchmen in color, but
Calvinists in expression. They are serious, grave, and almost^
sombre, and have even a shade of fanaticism diffused over the
worldliness by which they are practically characterized. Mr.
Saurin is no fanatic ; on the contrary, I believe' that his only
test of the true religion is the law of the land. He does not
belong to the " saint party," nor is he known by the sanctimo
nious avidity by which that pious and rapacious body is dis
tinguished at the Irish bar. Still there is a touch of John
Calvintupon him, and he looks the fac-simile of an old Protest
ant professor of logic whom I remember to have seen in one of
the colleges at Nismes.
I have enlarged upon the figure and aspect of this eminent
barrister, because they intimate much of his mind. In his ca
pacity as an advocate in a court of equity, he deserves great
* The French Catholics gave the nick-name of Huguenots to their Protestant
brothers, but the derivation of the word is uncertain. It was not used until the
middle of the sixteenth century. — M.
t John Calvin was a Frenchman. Differing from Luther, on many points of
doctrine and discipline, he established a schism less tolerant and more severe ,
than simple Protestantism. Unable to convert Servetus, he calmly consigned
him to the flames — " for the love of God!" — M.

168 WILLIAM SAUEIN.
encomium. He is not a great case-lawyer. He is not like
Sergeant Lefroy,* an ambulatory index of discordant names;
he is stored with knowledge : principle is not merely deposited
in his memory, but inlaid and tesselated in his mind : it enters
into his habitual thinking. No man is better versed in the art
of putting facts : he brings with a peculiar felicity and skill
the favorable parts of his client's case into prominence, and
shows still greater acuteness in suppressing or glossing over
whatever may be prejudicial to his interests. He invests the
most hopeless, and I will even add, the most dishonest cause, with
a most deceitful plausibility; and the total absence of all effort,
and the ease and apparent sincerity of his manner, give him at
times a superiority even to Plunket himself, who, by the energy
into which he is hurried at moments by his more ardent and
eloquent temperament, creates a suspicion that it must be a
bad cause which requires so much display of power. In hear
ing the latter, you are perpetually thinking of him and his
faculties ; in hearing Saurin, you remember nothing but the
cause — he disappears in the facts.
' Saurin also shows singular tact in the management of the
Court. Lord-Chancellor Manners is actually bewildered hy
Plunket: it is from his Lordship's premises that he argues
against him : he entangles him in a net of sophistry wrought
out of his own suggestion. This is not very agreeable to hu
man vanity, and Chancellors are men. Saurin, on the other
hand, accommodates himself to every view of the Coiirt. He
gently and insensibly conducts his Lordship to a conclusion —
Plunket precipitates him into it at once. But Lord Manners
struggles hard upon the brink, and often escapes from his
grasp. In this faculty of adaptation to the previous opinions and
character of the judge whom he addresses, I consider Saurin
as perhaps the most useful advocate in the Court of Ciancery
— at the same time, in reach of thought, variety of attribute,
versatility of resource, and power of diction, he is far inferior
to his distinguished successor in office. But Plunket is a sena-
* The subject of a subsequent sketch, and now [1854] Chief-Justice of
Ireland. — M.

HIS DISTASTE FOE LBTTEES. 169
tor and a statesman, and Saurin is a lawyer — not a mere one,
indeed ; but the legal faculty is greatly predominant in his
mind. His leisure has never been dedicated to the acquisition
of scientific knowledge, nor has he sought a relaxation from
his severe,r occupations in the softness of the politer arts. His
earliest tastes and predilections were always in coincidence
with his profession. Free from all literary addiction, he not
only did not listen to, but never heard, the solicitations of the
Muse. Men with the strongest passion for higher and more
elegant enjoyments have frequently repressed that tendency,
from a fear that it might lead them from the pursuit of more
substantial objects.
It was not necessary Jtat Mr. Saurin should stop his ears
against the voice of the siren — he was born deaf to her en
chantments. I believe that this was a sort of good fortune in
his nature. Literary accomplishments are often of prejudice,
and very seldom of any utility, at the bar. The profession
itself may occasionally afford a respite from its more rigid avo
cations, and invite of its own accord to a temporary deviation
from its more dreary pursuits. There are moments in which a
familiarity with the great models of eloquence and of high
thinking may be converted into use. But a lawyer like Mr.
Saurin will think, and wisely perhaps, that the acquisition of
the embellishing faculties is seldom attended with a sufficiently
frequent opportunity for their display, to compensate for the
dangers of the deviation which they require from the straight
forward road to professional eminence, and will pursue his
progress — like the American traveller, who, in journeying
through his vast prairies, passes without regard the fertile
landscapes which occasionally lie adjacent to his way, and
never turns fVom his track for the sake of the rich fruits and
the refreshing springs of those romantic recesses, which, how
ever delicious they may appear, may bewilder him in a wil
derness of sweets, and lead him for ever astray from the final
object of his destination.
Vol. L— 8

HENRY JOT.
Mr. Joy, th-e present Solicitor-General for Ireland [1823],
and the anti-papistical associate iu office of the chief-advocate
of the Roman Catholic claims, Mr.'i Plunket, is the son of a
literary man, who was the editor of a newspaper in Belfast.*
To the violent spirit which characterized the democratic lucu
brations of the father, I am inclined to attribute a mistake into
which the public have fallen with respect to the juvenile pro
pensities of the son. Mr. Joy is commonly considered to have
been addicted to liberal principles in his early life, and has
been reproached with having started a patriot. But whiggism
is not a family disorder, nor have I been able to discover any
grounds for thinking that Mr. Joy was at any time the profes
sor of opinions at variance with his present political creed.
* Henry Joy, bom in 1767, was called to the Irish bar in 1788. He was
a good lawyer, as well as an able advocate. He had a very good-humored,
insinuating way with witnesses as well as juries, and was happy at retort. In
1827, when Plunket was made Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, he was
succeeded as Attomey-General, by Joy. In 1831, on the retirement of Lord
GuiUamore (Standish O'Grady), Mr. Joy became Chief Baron of the Ex
chequer, and held that high oflice until his death, which took place, near Dublin,
on June 5, 1838. — Chief Baron Joy was an impartial and humane administra
tor of the law. He was repeatedly pressed to enter Parliament, but always
declined. — His name presented an obvious subject for Lord Norbury's wit.
An attorney, named Hope, prayed his Lordship to wait a few moments for his
leading Counsel, Mr. Joy, who was unavoidably detained and would pres
ently attend. His Lordship's very small stock of patience was soon exhausted
and he said, " We can wait no longer —
" ' Although Hope told a flattering tale.
And said the Joy would soon return,' "
aad directed the next case to be called on. — M.

HIS POLITICAL CEEED. 171
Since he was called to the Bar, which was in the year 1788, I
can not find a single deviation in his conduct from the path of
obvious prudence, which his instinctive tendencies would
naturally have led him to adopt, and to which his matured
experience must have instructed him to adhere. It required
little sagacity to perceive that by allying himself with the
religious and aristocratic passions of the prosperous faction, he
was much more likely to attain distinction, than by any chival
rous dedication of his abilities to a more noble, but unrequiting
cause. Had he had the misfortune to inherit so sterile and unprofit
able a patrimony as the love of Ireland, he might still, perhaps,
have risen to eminence and honor. But his success would
have been achieved in despite of his principles. By choosing
a different course he has succeeded through them. Instead of
the difficult and laborious path by which so few have won their
way, and which is filled not only with obstacles but thorns, he
selected the smoother road, the progress in which is as easy as
it is sure — which is thronged by crowds, who, instead of
impeding individual advancement, sustain and bear each other
on — and which not only leads with more directness to a
splendid elevation, but is bordered with many fertile and rich
retreats, in which those who are either unable or unwilling to
prosecute their journey to the more distant and shining objects
to which it conducts at last, are certain of finding an adjacent
place of secure and permanent repose. In this inviting path,
the weak and the incapable may sit down in ease and luxury,
even in the lowest gradations of ascent ; while the more vigor
ous and aspiring receive an impulse from the very ground they
tread, and are hurried rapidly along. Mr. Joy could not fail
to see the advantages of this accelerating course, nor do I
impute much blame to him for having yielded to its allure
ments. He has, perhaps, acted from that kind of artificial
conviction, into which the mind of an honorable man may at
last succeed in torturing itself. Conscience, like every other
judge, may be misled, and there is no advocate so eloquent as
self-interest before that high, but not infallible tribunal.
Whatever were his motives in choosing this judicious though

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

HIS SYMPATHY WITH SAUEIN. 173
It would be tedious to trace his progress through the various
stages of professional success which conduct to celebrity at
last. A lawyer advances by movements almost impercepti
ble, from obscurity into note, and from note to fame ; and
would find it difficult to ascribe with certainty the consumma
tion of his success to any direct or immediate cause. It is by
a continued series of meritorious effort and of fortunate event,
that eminence is to be attained at the Bar. I pass by the
many years of labor in which Mr. Joy, in obedience to the
destinies of his profession, must have expended the flower of
his life, and lead him directly to the administration of Mr.
Saurin. That gentleman, the Coryphaeus of the Orange party,
formed for Mr. Joy a strong political partiality. He found in
Mr. Joy the cardinal virtue, which, in his opinion, is the hinge
of all integrity and honor, and in the absence of which the
highest genius and the deepest knowledge are wholly without
avail. With Mr. Saurin, Orangeism in politics has all the
efficacy of charity in religion, and in the person of Mr. Joy,
he found many conspicuous qualities set-off by the full lustre of
Protestantism. This community of sentiment engendered a
virulent sympathy between them.
Mr. Joy was appointed one of the three Sergeants, who take
precedence after the Attorney and Solicitor General,* and
* In Ireland there are only three Sergeants-at-Law, who are appointed by
¦ the Crown, and take precedence, after the Attorney and Solicitor General, over
the rest of the bar. In England, any barrister of a certain standing may " as
sume the coif" — that is, wear a wig with a black patch on the crown — pro
vided he pay the usual expenses, amounting to one hundred pounds sterling.
He is then called " Mr. Sergeant," sits within the bar, with the Queen's Coun
sel, and takes precedence with them. There is this disadvantage : as a Ser-
geant-at-Law can not hold a brief under any one but a Queen's Counsel, or
another Sergeant of seniority to himself, he is precluded, in point of fact, from
being other than a leader in each case he appeai-s in ; and it sometimes happens
that a barrister in good practice, whose ambition leads him to take the coif,
soon finds himself briefless — as he can not act as junior, and the attorneys may
not think so well of him as to employ him as a leader. In England, eveiy law
yer, previous to taking his seat as a Judge, undergoes the formality and expense
of being made a Sergeant-at-Law. When a barrister is of sufficient standing,
it is usual to make him " one of Her Majesty's Counsel," which entitles him to
Bit within the bar, gives him precedence over the rest of the profession, and

174 HENET JOY.
enjoy a sort of customary right to promotion to the Bench.
Even before they are raised to the judicial station, they occa
sionally act iu lieu of any of the judges, who may happen to
he prevented by illness from going the circuit. The malady
of a judge, to such an extent of incapacity, is not, however, of
very frequent occurrence. A deduction fx'om his salary, to the
amount of four hundred pounds, is inflicted as a sort of penalty,
in every instance in which he declines attending the assizes,
and the expedient has been found peculiarly sanative. It not
unfrequently happens that one of the twelve sages,* who has
entitles him to employment in all cases, civil and criminal, between the Cro-vra
and the subject. Out of a bar consisting of about six himdred, in Eng-land,
between forty and fifty are Queen's Counsel; so that the distinction, which is
seldom conferred except for merit, is an important one, as it virtually bestows
professional rank on the recipient. A Queen's Counsel may be employed
against the Crown, in the courts of law, on paying a fee of ten guineas, and
obtaining permission, which is rarely refused, from the Attomey-General. But
the Crown has a poor right to his services, if it require them. What is called
** a patent of precedency" is sometimes given to Sergeants-at-Law, which places
them, according to its date, in possession of all the privileges enjoyed by
Queen's Counsel. Mr. Sergeant Wilkins, the ablest advocate now at the Eng
lish bar, has such a patent. Mr. O'Connell, who was for many years at the
head of his profession in Ireland, never was made Counsel to the Crown, owing
to his politics being hostile to those of the Lord-Chancellor (Manners), who
had the disposal of such honors. Eventually, he received' a patent of prece
dency. In the Ecclesiastica] Courts, no ban'isters ai-e allowed to plead unless
they have taken the degree of Doctor of Civil Law, at one of the Universities.
Tn England, politics are seldom regarded now in the disposal of silk-govms.
This may require explanation : a Queen's Counsel weai's a silken and an ordi
nary barrister a stuff gowm. The former, on solemn occasions, hides his head
in a fidl-bottomed wig, made of horsehair, and whitened with flour or powdered
starch: the latter wears a plain peruke, of the same quality, with two small
tails behind. Hence the saying, ** The wisdom 's in the wig !" There are nei
ther Queen's Counsel, nor Sergeants-at-Law, nor patents of precedency, at the
Scottish bar; but they get on very well without them. — M.
* In Ireland, besides two equity Judges (Lord Chancellor and Master of the
Rolls), there are twelve principal Judges, who dispose of criminal and nisi
prius cases. In Scotland, there are thirteen Judges, of whom, seven are Lords
of the Justiciary or chief criminal Court. In England, there ai-e seven equity,
and fifteen principal Judges for criminal cases. In England and Ireland, there
arc also Judges of the Prerogative and Ecclesiastical Courts. There also are
county and other local Judges in every county of the United Kingdom, besides
Commissioners of Bankruptcy and Insolvency. The largest salary is the Lord

HIS STAKDIKG AT 1EK BAE. 1Y5
lain almost dead during the term, at the sound of the circuit-
trumpet, starts, as it -were into a judicial resurrection, and, pre
ceded by the gorgeous procession of bum-hailifiEs, bears his
cadaverous attestation through the land, to the miraculous
agency of the King's commission.
However, it does upon occasion happen that this restorative,
powerful as it is, loses its preternatural operation, and one of
the Sergeants is called upon to take the place of any of the
ermined dignitaries of the Bench, who does not require the
certificate of a physician to satisfy the public of the reality
of his venerable ailments. This proximity to the Bench gives
a Sergeant considerable weight. In raiding Mi-. Joy to an
office which affords so many honorable anticipations, Mr.
Saurin must have been sensible that he added to his personal
influence, by the elevation of so unqualified an adherent to the
party of which he was the head. Mr. Joy had, besides, a high
individual rank. Before his promotion his business was con
siderable, and it afterward rapidly increased. It was princi-
Chancellor's — ten thousand pounds sterling, a year, inBngland. The average
salaries of the other principal Judges are about five thousand pounds sterling
a year. The County Court Judges receive about one thousand pounds sterling
per annum in England and Ireland, and about eight himdred pounds sterling
in Scotland. AU the appointments are for life. No Judge is removable by
the Crown (except the Lord Chancellor, who retires with the Ministry, of
whom he is one), but his removal can take place on an address from both
Houses of Parliament, after gi'oss misconduct is proven before them. Every
Judge, on retiring, after fifteen years' service, or ill-health, has a life-pension
of two thirds of his salaiy, but the Lord Chancellor, however brief his tenure
of office, has a pension of five thousand pounds sterling a year, as, having once
quitted the Bar, for the Bench he can not resume his practice in the Courts of
Law. But the ex-Chancellors, all of whom are peers, sit in the House of
Lords, every Session, hearing appeals from the different law-Courts throughout
the whole Empire (Colonies included) and thus render great service, fully the
value of their pensions, to the public. The House of Lords is the highest
court of judicature in the British Empire, and " the Law Lords," as they are
called, chiefly give the decisions — the lay-lords, who are not lawyers, seldom
interfering. For the last eighteen years. Lord Brougham, in particular, has
devoted his time, energies, and vast knowledge, to the adjudication of Appeals
before the House of Lords. It may be remarked, as a curious anomaly, that
the Lord Chancellor and any other Judge, whose decisions may be appealed
against (if a peer, such as Lord Chief-Justice Campbell, for instance), may
hear and vote on such appeals — literally on their own judgments ! — M.

1T6 RENRy JOT.
pally augmented in Chancerjr, whore pre-audience is of the
utmost moment. Lord Maimers is disposed to allow too deep
a permanence to the earliest impression, and whoever first
addresses him has the odds in his favor. The enjoyment of
priority swelled the bag of Mr. Joy, which was soon distended
into an equality with that of Mr. Bushe.
That great advocate found in Mr. Joy a dangerous compet
itor. The latter was generally supposed to be more pro
foundly read, and the abstract principles of equity were traced
by sagacious solicitors in the folds and furrows of his brow.
The eloquence of Bushe was little appreciated by men who
thought, 1;hat because they had been delighted they ought
not to have been convinced. Joy had a more logical aspect
in the eyes of those who conceive that genius affords prima
facie evidence against knowledge, and gi-ew into a gradual
preference at the Chancery bar. It was no light recommen
dation to him that he was the protege of Saurin, who could not
bring himself to forgive the liberalism of his colleague, and
was not unwilling to assist the prosperous competition of his
more Protestant eleve. His strenuous protection gave strong
reasons to Bushe to tremble, at Joy's pretensions to the highest
seat upon the Bench. Bushe had himself declined the office
of a puisne judge,* in the just expectation of attaining to
that, which he at present occupies in a manner so useful to
the country and so creditable to himself But he was doomed
to the endurance of a long interval of suspense before his
present fortunate, and I may even call it accidental, elevation.
He had already been sufficiently annoyed by the perverse
longevity of Lord Norbury,t and the no less vexatious hesi
tations of Lord Downes,|: who tortured him for years with the
• In England and Ireland, the Chief Justices who preside over the Courts
of Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, and Exchequer, ai-e familiarly called chiefs.
The judges under them are called puisne (pronounced puny) from a French
adjective signifying younger and inferior. — M."
+ Lord Norbury (the subject of a subsequent sketch), who was Chief- Justice
of the Common Pleas in Ireland, was seventy-eight years old in 1825 when
this was written, and had then been twenty-thi-ce years on the Bench.  M.
X William Downes, called to the Irish bar in 1766, was made a Judge in 1792.
During Emmett's insurrection in 1803, Lord Kilwarden was murdered by the

HIS EXPECTATION OF PKOMOTION. 1T7
judicial coquetry of affected resignation. But the appearance
of another candidate for the object of his protracted aspira
tions, had well nigh broken his spirit, and reduced him to
despair. It was at one time quite notorious, that if a vacancy had
occurred in the Chief-Justiceship of the King's Bench, Saurin
would have exercised his influence in behalf of his favorite ;
and it was almost equally certain that his influence would have
prevailed. In the general notion, Joy was soon to preside in
the room of Downes, and his own demeanor tended not a little
to confirm it. The auspices of success were assembled in his
aspect, as conspicuously as the omens of disaster were collected
in the bearing of Mr. Bushe. The latter exhibited all the
most painful symptoms of the malady of procrastinated hope.
The natural buoyancy of his spirit sunk under the oppressive
and accumulated solicitude that weighed upon him. Conscious
of the power of our emotions, and of the readiness with wliich
they break into external results, he was ever on his guard
against them. He well knew how speedily misfortune is de
tected by the vulgar and heartless crowd we call the world,
and made every effort to rescue himself from their ignominious
commiseration. To t scape from a sentiment which is so closely
connected with contempt, he wrought himself at moments into
a wild and feverish hilarity ; but the care that consumes the
heart manifested itself, in spite of all his efforts to conceal it.
His bursts of high-wrought joyousness were speedily followed
by the depression which usually succeeds to an unnatural ine-
mob, who mistook him for Lord Carleton, the Judge who presided at the trial and
condemnation of Henry and John Sheares, in 1798. Downes w^as appointed
to succeed Lord Kilwarden, as Chief Justice of the King's Bench. He was
raised to the peerage, as Baron Downes (with remainder, on default of lawful
male issue, to his cousin, the gallant Sir Ulysses de Burgh, the present peer), on
his relinquishing the ermine in March, 1822. He died, at a veiy advanced age,
in March, 1825. Lord Downes was Vice-Chancellor of the University of Dublin.
He was a large, unwieldy man, and Curran described him as " a human quag
mire," — on the bench, he was tremulous as if he wore composed of calves'-
feet jelly. He was at once solemn and ponderous. He had never been mar
ried, and his rigid moral conduct caused him to be designated the "virgin
judge." Withal, he was patient, a good listener, a pains-taking man, and had
a competent share of legal knowledge. — M.
8*

178 HENRY JOT.
briation of the mind; his eyes used to be fixed in a heavy
and abstracted glare ; his face was suffused with a murky and
unwholesome red — melancholy seemed to " bake his blood."
He was vacant when disengaged, and impatient when occu
pied, and every external circumstance about him attested the
workings of solicitude that were going on within. It was
truly distressing to see this eloquent, high-minded, and gen
erous man, dying of the ague of expectation, and alternatelj
shivering with wretched disappointment, and inflamed with
miserable hope.
Joy, on the other hand, displayed all the characteristics of
prosperity, and would have been set down by the most casual
observer as a peculiarly successful man. An air of good for
tune was spread around him : it breathed from his face, and
was diffused over all that he said and did. His eyes twinkled
with the pride of authority. His brow assumed by anticipation
the solemnity of the judicial cast; he seemed to rehearse the
part of Chief Justice, and to be already half seated on the
highest place upon the Bench. But suddenly it was plucked
from beneath him. Lord Wellesley arrived* — Saurin was pre
cipitated from his office. In a paroxysm of distempered magna
nimity he disdained to accept the first judicial station; and
Bushe, to his own astonishment, grasped in permanence and
security that object of half his life, which had appeared so
long to fly from his pursuit, and, just before the instant of its
attainment, seemed, like a phantasm, to have receded from his
reach for ever. Bushe is now Chief-Justice of the King's
Bench [1823] ; and that he may long continue to preside
* As Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. After the visit of George IV., when the
Catholics showed a superabundance of " loyalty," it was resolved to favor them
with a more liberal ruler than the late Earl Talbot, who was a decided partisan
of " Protestant Ascendency in Church and State." The Marquis Wellesley
was sent over — partly because he was liberal and friendly to the Catholic
cliims, and partly because he was poor, and the twenty thousand pounds ster
ling a yi^ar salary was an object to him. At the same time, Mr. Saurin, the
virtual and intolerant ruler of the countiy, was dismissed, to be succeeded by
Plunket, tho eloquent advocate of Emancipation. — Lord Wellesley in Ireland
forms the subject of a lively sketch, in this volume, entitled " The Dublin Tab
inet Ball."— M.

AS SOLICITOR GENERAL. 179
there, is the wish of every man by whom indiscriminate urban
ity to the bar, unremitting attention to the duties of his office,
and a perfect competence to their discharge — the purest im
partiality and a most noble intellect — are held in value.
Notwithstanding that the Bench -was withdrawn from Mr.
Joy, while he was almost in the attitude of seating himself
upon it, he did not fall to the ground. Bushe's promotion left
a vacancy in the office of Solicitor-General, and it was ten
dered to Mr. Joy. This was considered a little singular, as
his opinions were well known to be exactly opposite to those
of the new Attorney-General, Mr. Plunket. That circum
stance, however, so far from being a ground of objection, was,
I am inclined to think, a principal motive for submitting the
vacant place to his acceptance. It had been resolved to
compound all parties together. The more repulsive the ingre
dients, the better fitted they were for the somewhat empirical
process of conciliation, with which Lord Wellesley had under
taken to mix them up together. The government being itself an
anomaly — a thing "of shreds and patches" — it was only
consistent that the legal department should be equally hete
rogeneous. To this sagacious project, the conjunction of two
persons who differ so widely from each other as Mr. Plunket
and Mr. Joy, is to be attributed. The latter was blamed by
many of his friends for the promptitude with which he allied
himself to the new administration, for he did not affect the
coyness which is usually illustrated by a proverbial reference
to clerical ambition. He was well aware that if he indul[;ed
in the mockery of a refusal, amid the rapid fluctuations of an
undecided government, he might endanger the ultimate pos
session of so valuable an office. He did not put on any
-virgin reluctances, nor seem " fearful of his wishes," but em
braced the fair opportunity with a genuine and unaffected
ardor. Mr. Joy is justly accounted one of the ablest men at the Irish
Bar. In the sense in which eloquence, and especially in Ireland,
is generally understood, I do not think that it belongs to him
in a very remarkable degree. At times his manner is very
strenuous, but energy is by no means the characteristic of Ms

180 HENRY JOT.
Speaking. I have seen him, upon occasion, appeal to juries
with considerable force, and manifest that honest indignation
in the reprobation of meanness and of depravity, which is
always sure to excite an exalted sentiment in tlie minds of
men. The sincere enforcement of good principle is among the
noblest sources of genuine oratory ; and he that awakens a
more generous love of virtue and lifts us beyond the ordinary
sphere of our moral sensibilities, produces the true results of
eloquence. This Mr. Joy has not unfrequently accomplished,
but his habitual cast of expression and of thought is too much
subdued and kept under the vigilant control of a timid and
suspicious taste, to be attended with any very signal and
shining effects. He deals little in that species of illustration
which indicates a daring and adventurous mind; that seeks
to deliver its strong, though not always matured, conceptions
in bold and lofty phrase. Its products may be frequently im
perfect, but a single noble thought that springs full formed
from the imagination, compensates for all its abortive offspring.
Mr. Joy does not appear to think so, and studiously abstains
from the indulgence of that propensity to figurative decoration,
which in Ireland is carried to some excess. Nature, I su,5pect,
has been a little niggard in the endowment of his fancy ; and
if she has not given him wings for a sustained and lofty flight,
he is wise in not using any waxen pinions. I have never de
tected any exaggeration in his speeches, either in notion or in
phrase. His language is precise and pure, but so simple as
scarcely to deviate from the plainness of ordinary discourse.
It was observed of Lysias that he seldom employed a word
which was not in the most common use, but that his language
wa's so measured as to render his style exceedingly melodious
and sweet. Mr. Joy very rarely has recourse to an expression
wliich is not perfectly familiar. But he combines the most
trivial forms of phrase with so much art together, as to give
them a peculiarly rhythmical consti-uction. Upon occasion,
however, he throws into a speech some ornamental allusion to
his own favorite pursuits. He takes a flower or two from his
hortus siccus, and flings it carelessly out. But his images are
derived from the museum and the cabinet, and not from the

HIS SCIENTIFIO PURSUITS. 181
mountain and the field. He is strongly addicted to the study
of the more graceful sciences, and versed in shrubs, and birds,
and butterflies.
In this respect he stands an honorable exception to most of
the eminent members of the Bar, with whom all scientific and
literary acquirement is held in a kind of disrepute. Mr. Joy
has not neglected those sources of permanent enjoyment, which
continue to administer their innocent gratifications, when al
most every other is dried up. He has employed his solitary
leisure (for he is an old bachelor, and appears to be an invet
erate Mr. Oldbuck) in the cultivation of elegant, although, in
some instances, fantastic tastes. He is devoted to the loves
of the plants, and spends in a well-assorted museum of curiosi
ties many an hour of dalliance with an insect or a shell. It is
not unnatural that his mind should be impregnated with his
intellectual recreations ; and whenever he ventures upon a
metaphor, it may readily be traced to some association with
his scientific pursuits.
With this rare exception, Mr. Joy may be acr junted an un
adorned speaker. His chief merit consists in his talent for
elucidation and for sneering. He is, indeed, so sensible of his
genius for mockery, that he puts it into use wherever the least
opportunity is afforded for its display. When it is his object
to cover a man with disgrace, he lavishes encomium with a
tone and a look that render his envenomed praises more deadly
than the fiercest invective. He deals in incessant irony, and
sets off his virulent panegyric with a smile of such baleful de
rision as to furnish a model to a painter for Goethe's Metemp-
syphiles.* In cross-examination he employs this formidable
faculty with singular effect.
Here he shows high excellence. He contemplates the wit
ness with the suppressed delight of an inquisitor, who calmly
surveys his victim before he has him on the wheel. He does
not drag him to the torture with a ferocious precipitation, and
throw him at once into his torments, but with a slow and bland
ishing suavity tempts and allures him on, and invites him to
the point at which he knows that the means of infliction lie
* Mephistophiles?— M.

182 HENRY JOY.
in wait. He offers him a soft and downy bed in which the
rack is concealed, and when he is laid upon it, even then he
does not put out all his resources of agony at once. He affects
to caress the victim whom he torments, and it is only after he
has brought the whole machinery of torture into action, that
his purpose is perfectly revealed ; and even then, and when he is
in the fullest triumph of excruciation, he retains Ids seeming
and systematic gentleness ; he affects to wonder at the pain
which he applies, aud while he is pouring molten lead into
the wound, pretends to tliink it balm.
The habitual irony which Mr. Joy is accustomed to put into
such efficient practice, has given an expression to his face
which is peculiarly sardonic. Whatever mutations his coun
tenance undergoes, are but varied modifications of a sneer.
It exhibits in every aspect a phasis of disdain. Plunket's
face sins a little in this regard, but its expression is less con
temptuous than harsh. There i^ in it more of the acidity of
ill humor than of the bitterness of scorn. His pride appears
to . result rather from the sense of his own endowments than
from any depreciating reference to those of other men. But
the mockery of Mr. Joy is connected with all the odium of
comparison : —
" Et les deux bras crois6s, du haut de son esprit,
D 6coute c 1 piti6 tout ce que chacun dit."
The features upon which this perpetual derision is inlaid,
are of a peculiar cast; — they are rough-hewn and unclassical,
and dispersed over a square and rectangular visage, without
symmetry or arrangement. His mouth is cut broadlJ^ and
directly from one jaw to the other, and has neither richness
nor curve. There are in his cheeks two deep cavities, which
in his younger days might have possibly passed for dimples,
hollowed out in the midst of yellow flesh. Here it is that
Ridicule seems to have chosen her perpetual residence, for I do
not remember to have seen her give way to any more kindly
or gentle sentiment. His nose is broad at the root ; its nostrils
are distended, and it terminates in an ascending point: but
it is too short for profile, and lies in a side view almost con
cealed in the folds of parchment by which it is encompassed.

HIS PHYSIOGNOMY. 183
The eyes are dark, bright, and intellectual, but the lids are
shrivelled aud pursed up in such a manner, and seemingly by
an act of will, as to leave but a small space between their
contracted rims for the gleams of vision that are permitted to
escape. They seem to insinuate that it is not worth their
while to be open, in order to survey the insignificant object on
which they may chance to light. The forehead is thoughtful
and high, but from the posture of the head, which is thrown
back and generally aside, it appropriately surmounts this
singular assemblage of features, and lends an important con
tribution to the sardonic effect of the whole.
His deportment is in keeping with his physiognomy. If the
reader will suggest to his imagination the figure of a Mandarin,
receiving Lord Amherst* at the palace at Pekin, and with
* The Biitish Government, always anxious to establish intimate commercial
and political relations with China, despatched Lord Macartney, at the head of
a special Embassy, in 1792. He and his suite reached China the following-
year, were received there, with all courtesy as " tribute-bearers," and were
promised an audience of the Emperor, provided they would perform the usual
prostrations of the person made in the presence of his Majesty by his own sub
jects. This was declined, but Lord Macartney finally offered to perform the
Kou-to (as it is called) if some high officer of state would previously do like
homage before a portrait of George IIL Lord Macartney and Sir George
Staunton actually had the promised audience, each kneeling on one knee as
they presented the Emperor with a magnificent gold box, richly adorned with
jewels, which contained the King of England's Iptter, which, with other pres
ents, was well received, and the return of the embassy requested. In 1816,
Lord Amherst headed a second embassy, and strongly declined making tlie
required nine prostrations 'to the Emperor,, declaring he would pay him the
same homage as he yielded to his own sovereign, and no more — unless a Tar
tar mandarin of rank would perform the Ko-tou before the portrait of the Eng
lish ruler. Finally, on the Emperor's declaration that Lord Macartney had
Ko-toued on the former occasion. Lord Amherst agreed to do the same — but
the Embassy was literally hurried out of the countiy, to their ships on the coast,
before this could be done. A reply to the Royal letter from England pompously
intimated that -it would not again be necessaiy to send " ^ tribute-bcarer"from
such a distance. The two embassies cost about three hundred and fifty tbou
sand pounds sterling. Napoleon (who was visited at St Helena by Lord Am
herst, on his return from China), said he should have complied with the cus
toms of the place, or not have been sent at all, for that what the chief men of
a nation practise toward their chief, could not degrade strangers to prac
tise. — M.

184 HENHY JOT.
contemptuous courtesy proposing to his lordship the ceremony
of the Ko-tou, he will form a pretty accurate notion of the
bearing, the manners, and the hue of Mr. Joy, his Majesty's
Solicitor-General for Ireland. He is extremely polite, but his
politeness is as Chinese as his look, and appears to be dic
tated rather by a sense of what he owes to himself than hy
any deference to the person who has the misfortune to be its
object. And yet with all this assumption of dignity, Mr. Joy is not
precisely dignified. He is in a perpetual efi'ort to sustain his
consequence, and arms himself against the least invasion upon
his title to respect. Of its legitimacy, however, he does not
appear to be completely satisfied. He seems a spy upon his
own importance, and keeps watch over the sacred treasm-e
with a most earnest and unremitting vigilance. Accord
ingly, he is for ever busy with himself. There is nothing ab
stract and meditative in his aspect, nor does his mind ever
wander beyond the immediate localities that surround him.
There is "no speculation in his eye;" an intense conscious
ness pervades all that he says and does. I never yet saw him
lost in revery.
When disengaged from his professional occupations, he
stands in the Hall with the same collected manner which he
bore in the discharge of his duties to his client, and with his
thoughts fastened to the spot. While others are pacing with
rapidity along the flags which have worn out so many hopes,
Joy remains in stationary stateliness, peering with a sidelong
look at the peristrephic panorama that revolves around him.
The whole, however, of what is going on is referred to his own
individuality ; self is the axis of the little world about him,
and while he appears scarcely conscious of the presence of a
single person in all the crowd by which he is encompassed, he
is in reality noting down the slightest glance that may be con
nected with himself.
There is something so artificial in the demeanor of Mr. Joy,
and especially in the authoritativeness which he assumes with
the official silk in which he attires his person, that his external
appearance gives but little indication of his character. His

AS A JUDGE. 185
dispositions are much more commendable than a disciple of
Lavater would be inclined to surmise. I suspect that his hau
teur is worn from a conviction that the vulgar are most inclined
to reverence the man by whom they are most strenuously de
spised. Upon a view of Mr. Joy, it would be imagined that
he would not prove either a very humane or patient judge ;*
but it is quite otherwise, and those who have had an opportu
nity of observing him in a judicial capacity upon circuit, con
cur in the desire that he should be permanently placed in a
situation for which he has already displayed in its transitory
occupation so many conspicuous qualities.
* Chief-Baron Joy was a good judge ; — sound in his law, impartial in hia
judgments, and courteous in his demeanor. — M.

CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.
Not very long after I had been called to the bar, I one day
chanced to observe a person standing beside a pillar in the Hall
of the Four Courts, the peculiar wretchedness of whose aspect
atti-acted my notice. I was upon my way to the subterranean
chamber where the wigs and gowns of lawyers are kept, and
was revolving at the moment the dignity and importance of
the station to which I had been raised by my enrolment among
the members of the Irish bar. I was interrupted in this inter
esting meditation by the miserable object upon wliich my eyes
had happened to rest ; and, without being a dilettante in afilic-
tion, I could not help pausing to consider the remarkable spe
cimen of wretchedness that stood before me.
Had the unfortunate man been utterly naked, his condition
would not have appeared so pitiable. His raiment served to
set his destitution off. A coat, which had once been black, but
which appeared to have been steeped in a compound of all rusty
hues, hung in rags about him. It was closely pinned at his
throat, to conceal the absence of a neckcloth. He was without
a vest. A shirt of tattered yellow, which from a time beyond
memory had adhered to his withered bodjs appeared through
numerous apertures in his upper garment, and jutted out round
that portion of his person where a garb without a name is usu
ally attached. The latter part of his attire, which was con
spicuous for a prismatic diversity of color, was fastened with a
piece of twine to the extreme button of his upper habiliment,
and very incompletely supplied the purpose for which the pro
genitors of mankind, after their first initiation into knowledge,
employed a vegetable veil. Through the inferior regions of

AN UNFORTUNATE LA-WTEB. 187
this imperfect integument, there depended a shred or two of
that inner garment, which had been long sacred to nastiness,
and which the fingers of the laundress never- had profaned.
His stockings were compounded of ragged worsted and accu
mulated mire. They covered a pair of fleshless bones, but did
not extend to the feet, the squalid nakedness of which was
visible through the shoes that hung soaked with wet about
them. He was dripping with rain, and shivering with cold. His
figure was shrunken and diminutive. A few gray locks were
wildly scattered upon a small and irregularly-shaped head.
Despair and famine sat upon his face, which was of the .strong
Celtic mould, with its features thrown in disorder, and desti
tute of all symmetry or proportion, but deriving from the pas
sions, by which they were distorted, an expression of ferocious
haggardness. His beard was like that which grows upon the
dead. The flesh was of a cadaverous complexion. His gray
eyes, although laden with rheum, caught a savageness from
the eyelids, which were bordered with a jagged rim of diseased
and bloody red. A hideous mouth was lined with a row of
shattered ebony, and from the instinct of long hunger had ac
quired an habitual gape for food. The wretched man was
speaking vehemently and incoherently to himself. It was a
sort of insane jabbering — a mad soliloquy, in which "my
Lord" was frequently repeated.
I turned away with a mingled sentiment of disgust and hor
ror, and, endeavoring to release my recollection from the pain
ful image which so frightful an object had left behind, I pro
ceeded to invest myself in my professional trappings : tied a
band with precision about my neck ; complained, as is the wont
with the junior bar, that my wig had not been duly besprinkled
with powder, and that its curls were not developed with suffi
cient amplitude; set it rectilinearly upon my head; and, after
casting a look into the glass, and marking the judicial organ
in a certain prominence upon my brow, I readjusted the folds
of my gown, and reascended the Hall of the Four Courts in a
pleasurable state of unqualified contentedness with myself.
I directed my steps to the Court of Chancery, and, having

188 CALAMITIES OF TIIE BAR.
no better 'Occupation, I determined to follow the example of
certain sagacious asjiirants to the office of Commissioner of
Bankrupts, and to dedicate the day to an experiment in nod
ding, which I had seen put into practice with effect. There
are a set of juvenile gentlemen who have taken for their motto
the words of a Scotch ballad, which, upon a recent motion for
an injunction. Lord Eldon* affected upt to understand, but
which, if he had looked for a moment upon the benches of
youthful counsellors before him, while in the act of delivering
a judicial aphorism, he would have found interpreted in one
of the senses of which they are susceptible, and have discov
ered a meaning in " We're all a-nodding," of obvious applica
tion to the bar. Confident in the flexibility of my neck, and
a certain plastic facility of expression, I imagined that I was
not without some talent for assentation ; and accordingly seated
myself in such a place that the eye of my Lord Manners, in
seeking refuge from the inquisitorial physiognomy of Mr.
Plunket, would probably rest upon me.
The Court began to fill. The young aristocracy of the bar,
the sons of Judges, and fifth cousins of members of Parliament,
and the whole rising generation of the Kildarc-street Club,
gradually dropped in. Next appeared, at the inner bar, the
more eminent practitioners tottering under their huge bags,
upon which many a briefless senior threw a mournful and re
pining glance. First came Mr. Pennefather,t with his calm
* Lord-Chancellor Eldon, although born close to the Scottish border, affected
not to understand the Scotch dialect and pronunciation. He was once hearing
appeals, in the House of Lords, and Mr. Clerk, an eminent Edinburgh lawyer
(afterward a Judge, and called Lord Bldin), ha-ving said, in his broadest ac
cent, " In plain English, my Lords," was inten-upted, half-seriously, by Lord
Eldon, with — " In plain Scotch, I suppose you mean?" — " Nae matter," re
joined Clerk, "in plain common sense, my Lord — and that's the same in all
languages — ye '11 ken if you understand it." — M.
t There were two Irish bai-risters named Pennefather. Edwai-d, the junior,
called to the bar in 1796, was inferior to none as a lawyer and an advocate.
Ho had immense practice ; and though compelled, by ill-health, occasionally to
retire from labor, attorneys would flock to him with briefs the moment he re
turned. In this respect he was as fortunate as the late Sir William FoUett, of
the English bar, and both negatived the commonly-received belief that " when
a lawyer leaves his business, his business loaves him." Edward Pennefather

THE PAUPER BARRISTER. 189
and unruffled forehead, his flushed cheek, and his subtilizing
and somewhat over-anxious eye. He was succeeded by Mr.
Sergeant Lefroy, who after casting a smile qf pious recognition
upon a brace of neophytes behind, rolled out a ponderous brief,
and reluctantly betook himself to the occupations of this sub
lunary world. Next came Mr. Blackburne,* with his smug fea
tures, but beaming and wily eye ; Mr. Crampton,t with an air
of elaborated frankness ; Mr. Warren,! with an expression of
atrabilious honesty ; Mr. Saurin, looking as if he had never
been Attorney-G-eneral ; and Mr. Plunket, as if he never could
cease to be so. Lastly appeared my Lord Manners, with that
strong affinity to the Stuart cast of face, and that fine urbanity
of manner, which, united with a sallow face and a meagre figure,
makes him seem like the phantom of Charles II.
The Court was crowded, the business of the day was called
on ; Mr. Prendergast, || with that depth of registerial intonation
which belongs to him, had called on the first cause, when sud
denly a cry, or rather an Irish howl, of " My Lord, my Lord,"
rose from the remote seats of the Court, and made the whole
assembly look back. A barrister in a wig and gown was seen
clambering from bench to bench, and upsetting all opposition,
rolling over some and knocking down others, and uttering in
a vehement and repeated ejaculation, " My Lord, my Lord,"
as he advanced, or rather tumbled over every impediment. At
was offered the office of Lord-Chancellor of Ireland in 1841, when Sugden was
in doubt about accepting it, and became Solicitor-General only on a promise
that he should have the next Chief-Justiceship vacancy. That was of the
Queen's Bench, in which capacity he presided at the O'Connell State-Trials in
1843-'4. He was then seventy years of age, and did not long survive. — Rich
ard Pennefather, called to the bar in 1795, is now (1854) one of the puisne
Barons of the Exchequer in Ireland. — M.
* Late Lord-Chancellor of Ireland, in 1852, under the Derby-D'Israeli Min
istry, and the subject of a later sketch. — M.
t Now (1854) one of the Judges of the Court of Queen's Bench in Ire
land.— M.
X Mr. Warren, without any remarkable brilliancy or depth, has obtained high
credit and large practice at the Irish bar. He was made a Sergeant-at-Law,
and pleaded for the Crown, at the State-Trials of 1843-'4. — M.
11 Eegistrar of the Irish Courf of Chancery under Lord Manners. He has
long since passed away. — M.

190 CALAMrriEs of the bar.
length he reached the lower bench, where he remained breath
less for a moment, overcome by the exertion which he had
made to gain that prominent station in the court. The first
sensation was one of astonishment ; this was succeeded by reit-
er'ated laughter, which even the strictness of Chancery etiquette
could not restrain. I could not for a moment believe the assu
rance of my senses, until, looking at him again and again, I
became satisfied that this strange barrister (for a barrister it
was) was no other than the miserable man whom I had ob
served in the Hall, and of whom I have given a faint and im
perfect picture.
After the roar of ridicule had subsided, the unfortunate gen
tleman received an intimation from Lord Manners that he
should be heard — when he addressed the court in a speech,
of the style of delivery of which it is impossible to convey to
an English reader any adequate notion, but which ran to the
following effect : " It is now, may it please your honorable
Lordship, more than forty years, since, with a mournful step
and a heavy heart, I followed the remains of your Lordship's
illustrious relative, the Duke of Rutland,* to the grave." The
* Charles Manners, fourth Duke of Rutland, bom in 1754, was appointed
Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in 1784, and died, while in office, in October, 1787,
at the early age of thirty-three. He was cousin (three removed) to Loid-Chan-
cellor Manners. He was a bon-vivdnt, and a man of pleasure. In the former
capacity he was entertained by the Mayor of Cork, and, happening lo praise
some wine which was making the circuit of the board, was rather astounded
at the Mayor's cool reply : " Well, my Lord Duke, it is good claret, but nothing;
to be compared with a better quality in my cellar !" This Viceroy il was who,
in a con-vivial moment, " when the wine was in," insisted on knighting the
landlord of the country inn at which he happened to be stopping. The next
morning, he endeavored to pass it off as a joke, and, giving the landlord a
handful of guineas, said, " Pat, you must not mind what passed last night;
'twas all a joke." Carefully pocketing the gold, the beknighted landlord made
his best bow, and said, "As to that, your Excellency, 'tis all one to me — but
-wkat will Lady O' Skaughiessy say?" To his dying day, therefore, he contin
ued to be called Sir Patrick O'Shaughnessy. The Duke of Eutland -was in the
habit of visiting certain houses and persons of not quite the purest reputation.
In his time, there was a handsome profligate, named Peg Plunket, who was
presumed, and not untruly (as all accounts declare), to be very particularly in
his Grace's good graces — whatever these may have been. At the theatre, one
evening, this fair and frail one made her appearance, and the wags called out.

A STRANGE ORATION. 191
moment this sentence had been pronounced, and it was uttered
with a barbarous impressiveness, the Chancellor leaned for
ward, and assumed an aspect of profound attention. The bar
immediately composed their features into sympathy with the
judicial countenance, and a general expression of compassion
pervaded the court.
The extraordinary orator continued : " Yes, my Lord, the
unfortunate man who stands before you, did, as a scholar of
Trinity College, attend the funeral-procession with which the
members of the University of Dublin followed the relics of
your noble relative to an untimely tomb. My eyes, my Lord,
are now filled by my own calamities, but they were then moist
ened by that sorrow, which, in common with the whole of the
loyal part of the Iri,sh nation (for, my Lord, I am a Protestant),
I felt for the loss of your noble and ever-to-be-lamented kins
man." (The bar looked up to Lord Manners, and, perceiving
his Lordship's attention still more strongly riveted, preserved
their gravity.) "Oh, my Lord, I feel that I am addressing
myself to a man who carries a true nobleness of sentiment in
every drop of his honorable blood. God Almighty bless your
Lordshin ! you belong, ay, every bit of you, to the noble house
of Eutland; and aren't you the uncle of a Duke, and the
brother of his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury?"*
" But in what cause, Mr. M'Mahon, are you counsel V
" In my own, my Lord. It is a saying, my Lord, that he
"Ah, Peg! who passed last night with you. Peg?" At that moment the Duke
of Rutland, whose family name was Manners, entered the vice-regal box, ac
companied by his young and lovely wife. Peg, turning round to her querists,
with a sly look at the Duke, exclaimed, " Manners ! you blackguards !" The
whole audience burst into a shout of laughter, in which the Duke himself could
not help joining. History does not record what was the Duchess's opinion of
the reply, retort, and occasion ! — M.
* Lord Manners was not uncle of a Duke. His father. Lord George Man
ners, son of the third Duke of Rutland, on succeeding to the estates of his ma
ternal grandfather. Lord Lexington, whose family name was Sutton, assumed
that surname. He was only cousin, at some distance, too, from the Duke of
Eutland. His elder brother, Charles Manners Sutton, bom in 1755, became
Archbishop of Canterbury, and died in July, 1828. The Archbishop's eldest
son, Speaker of the House of Commons for seventeen years, was created Vis
count Canterbury, in 1835. — M.

192 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.
who is his own counsel, has a madman for his client. But, my
Lord, I have no money to fee my brethren. I haven't the
quiddam honorarium, my Lord ; and, if I am mad, it is poverty,
and persecution, and the Jesuits, that have made me so. Ay,
my Lord, the Jesuits ! For who is counsel against me — I
don't mean that Popish demagogue Daniel O'Connell, though
he was brought up at St. Omer, and bad enough he is too, for
abusing your Lordship about the appeals ; but I mean that
real son of Loyola, Tom  , who was once a practising par
son, and is now nothing but a Jesuit in disguise. But let him
beware ! Bagenal Harvey, who was one of my persecutors,
came to an untimely end."*
Such was the exordium of Counsellor M'Mahon,t the rest of
whose oration was in perfect conformity with the introductory
passages from which I have given an extract. But, in order
to form any estimate of his eloquence, you should have seen
the prodigy itself: the vehemence of his gesture corresponded
with the intensity of his emotions. His hands were violently
clinched, and furiously dashed against his forehead. His
mouth was spattered with discolored foam. His wig, of un-
powdered horsehair, was flung oflf, and, in the variety ^f frantic
attitude which he assumed, his gown was thrown open, and he
stood with scarcely any covering but his ragged shirt, in a
state of frightful emaciation, before the court.
When this ridiculous but painful scene had concluded, " So
much," I whispered to myself, " for the dignity of the Irish
bar!" I confess that I divested myself of my professional
trappings, after having witnessed this exhibition of degradation
and of misery, with very different feelings from those with
* Bagenal Harvey, of Bargray Castle, was an Irish barrister, of good fortune,
family standing, and talents. He was a United Irishman in 1798, and eventu
ally became Generalissimo of the insurgents, in the outbreak of that year. He
fell into the hands of Lake, the royalist General, who immediately hanged him,
in company with several others, and placed their heads upon spikes over the
door of the Courthouse of Wexford, where they blackened in the sun for several
weeks. — M.
t This unfortunate man, who had distinguished himself in the Dnivel-sity of
Dublin, and in early life had married a woman of large fortune, was lately found
dead in Sackville street [in 1824. — M.].

PROFESSIONAL MISERY. 193
which I had put them on ; and, as I walked from the Courts
with the impression of mingled shame and commiseration still
fresh upon me, I ventured to inquire of my own consciousness
whether there was anything so cabalistic in the title of Coun
sellor, which I shared in common with the wretched man,
whom I afterward found to be in daily attendance upon the
Hall, and whether I had not a little exaggerated the impor
tance to which I imagined that every barrister possessed an
indisputable claim. It occurred to me, of course, that the in
stance of calamity which I had just witnessed was a peculiar
one, and carried with it more of the outward and visible signs
of distress than are ordinarily revealed. But is agony the less
poignant, because its groans are hushed 1 Is it because sorrow
is silent, that it does not " consume the heart" 1 or did the
Spartan feel less pain, because the fangs that tore him were
hidden beneath his robe 1
There is at the Irish bar a much larger quantity of affliction
than is generally known. The necessity of concealing calam
ity is in itself a great ill. The struggle between poverty and
gentility, which the ostentatious publicity of the profession in
Ireland has produced, has, I believe, broken many hearts. If
the Hall of the Four Courts were the Palace of Truth, and all
its inmates carried a transparency in their bosoms, we should
see a swarm of corroding passions at court in the breasts of
many whose countenances are now arrayed in an artificial
hilarity of look ; and, even as it is, how many a glimpse of
misery may be caught by the scrutinizing eye that pierces
through the faces into the souls of men ! The mask by which
it is sought to conceal the real features of the mind will often
drop off, and intimations of affliction will, upon a sudden, be
involuntarily given. This is the case even with those whom
the world is disposed to account among the prosperous ; but
there is a large class, who, to an attentive and practised ob
server, appear habitually under the influence of painful emo
tion. The author of " Vathek" (a man conversant in affliction)
has represented the condemned pacing through the Hall of
Eblis with the same slow and everlasting footfall ; and I con
fess that the blank and dejected air, the forlorn and hopeless
Vol. L— 9

194 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.
eye, the measured and heart-broken pace, of many a man,
whom I have observed in his revolution through the same eternal
round in the Hall of the Four Courts, have sometimes recalled
to mc the recollection of Mr. Beckford's melancholy fancies.
If I were called upon to assign the principal cause of the
calamities of which so many examples occur at the Irish bar,
I should be disposed to say that their chief source lay in the
unnatural elevation to which the members of that body are
exalted by the provincial inferiority to which Ireland is re
duced. The absence from the metropolis of the chief proprie
tors, and indeed of almost all the leading gentry, has occa
sioned the substitution of a kind of spurious aristocracy. An
Irish barrister is indebted for his importance to the insignifi
cance of his country ; but this artificial station becomes event
ually a misfortune to those who are dependent upon their daily
exertions for their support ; and who, instead of practising those
habits of provident frugality which are imposed by their com
parative obscurity upon the cloistered tenants of the two Tem
ples, become slaves to their transitory consequence ; and, after
having wasted the hard earnings of their youth and manhood
in preposterous efforts at display, leave their families no better
inheritance than the ephemeral sympathy of that public whose
worthless respect they had purchased at so large a cost. Let
any man look back to the numerous instances in which appeals
have been made to the general commiseration upon the decease
of some eminent member of the bar, and he will not be disposed
to controvert the justice of this censure upon the ostentatious
tendencies of the profession.
Ireland is, I believe, the only country where there exists
among the bar this preposterous tendency to ostentatious ex
pense. The French bar, for example, live in respectable
privacy, and are wholly free from extravagance. It is, I
fancy, a mistake to suppose that the profits of the more emi
nent among them are too inconsiderable to permit of the
silliness of display. The fees paid to French counsel of rep
utation, for their opinions, are large. Those opinions, indeed,
are elaborate essays upon the law, and are called "Consul
tations." I had occasion, when in Paris, to consult Trippier,

A Fi;!'.\-C:! I .VWY7.R.

195

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

196 CAI.AMITIKS ur THE BAR.
The life of an eminent lawyer may be thus rapidly sketched;
— He is called without any other property than those talents
which have not in general a descendible quality. For some
years he remains unemployed : at last gets a brief, creeps into
the partialities of a solicitor, and sets up a bag and a wife
together. Irish morality does not permit the introduction into
the chambers of a barrister of those moveable objects of
unwedded endearment, which Lord Thurlow used to recom
mend to the juvenile members of the profession; and mar
riage, that perpetual blister, is prescribed as the only effectual
sanative for the turbulent passions of the Irish bar.
In the spirit of imprudence, which is often mistaken for
romance, our young counsellor enters with some dowerless
beauty into an indissoluble copartnership of the heart. A
pretty pauper is almost sure to be a prodigal. " Live like
yourself," is soon my lady's word. - " Shall Mrs. O'Brallaghan,
the wife of a mere attorney, provokingly display her amor
phous ankle, as she ascends the crimson steps of her carriage,
with all the airs of fashionable impertinence ; and is the wife
of a counsellor in full practice, though she may have 'ridden
double' at her aunt Deborah's, to be unprovided with that
ordinary convenience of persons of condition V After a faint
show of resistance, the conjugal injunction is obeyed.
But is it in an obscure street that the coachman is to bring
liis clattering horses to an instantaneous stand 1 Is he to
draw up in an alley, and to wheel round in a cul de sac ? And
then there is such a bargain to be had of a house in Merrion-
square. A house in Merrion-square is accordingly purchased,
and a bond, with warrant of attorney for confessing judgment
thereon, is passed for the fine. The lady discovers a taste
in furniture, and the profits of four circuits are made oblations
to virtH. The counsellor is raised to the dignity of King's
Consul, and his lady is initiated into the splendors of the
Vice-Regal court. She is now thrown into the eddies of fash
ionable life ; and in order to afford evidence of her domestic
propensities, she issues cards to half the town, with an inti
mation that she is " at home."
She has all this while been prolific to the full extent of Hi-

THE DEATH-BED SUBTET. 197
bernian fecundity. The counsellor's sons swagger it with the
choicest spirits of Kildare street ; and the young ladies are
accomplished in all the multifarious departments of musical
and literary affectation. Quadrilles and waltzes shake the
illuminated chambers with a perpetual concussion. The pas
senger is arrested- in his nocturnal progi-ess by the crowd of
brilliant vehicles before the door, while the blaze of light
streaming from the windows, and the sound of the harp and
the taber, and the din of extravagance, intimate the joyaunce
that is going on within. But where is the counsellor all this
while? He sits in a sequestered chamber, like a hermit in the
forest of Comus, and pursues his midnight labors by the light
of a solitary taper, scarcely hearing the din of pleasure that
rolls above his head.
The wasteful splendor of the drawing-room, and the patient
drudgery of the library, go on for years. The counsellor is at
the top of the forensic, and his lady stands upon the summit
of the fashionable world. At length death knocks at the
door. He is seized by a sudden illness. The loud knock of
the judges peals upon his ear, but the double tap of the attor
ney is heard no more. He makes an unavailing effort to
attend the Courts, but is hurried back to his house, and laid in
his bed. His eyes now begin to open to the realities of his
condition. In the loneliness and silence of the sick man's
chamber a train of reflections presents itself to his mind, which
his former state of professional occupancy had tended to ex
clude. He takes a death-bed survey of his circumstances ;
looks upon the future ; and by the light of that melancholy
lamp that burns beside him, and throws its shadowy gleams
upon his fortunes, he sees himself, at the close of a most pros
perous life, without a groat. The sense of his own folly, and
the anticipated destitution of his family, settle at his heart.
He has not adopted even the simple and cheap expedient of
insuring his life, or by some miserable negligence has let the
insurance drop. What is to become of his wife and his chil
dren ? From the sources of his best affections, and of his
purest pleasures, he drinks that potion — that aqua Tophana
of the mind, which renders all the expedients of art without

198 CALAMITIES OF THE EAE.
avail. Despair sits ministering beside liim with her poisoned
chalice, and bids defiance to Oolles and to Clieyne* His
* Colles and Cheyne were at the head of the medical profession in Dublin
for many years. Abraham Colles, born in 1773, studied at Dublin University,
and was admitted a licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons in 1795. Im
mediately after, he went to Edinburgh, then a great school of medicine, and
there received the degree of M. D. He thence went to London, where he
pursued further anatomical studies and much assisted in making the dissec
tions from which were made the engravings in his friend Astley Cooper's work
on Hernia. Returning to Dublin, he was elected resident surgeon of Steven's
Hospital, which he continued from 1799 to 1833, and thence, as visiting sur
geon, to 1842. He became a member of the Irish College of Surgeons, waa
many years Censor and thrice President of that body. He published several
valuable works on Surgery, and one on the " Use of Mercury." He died in
December, 1843, aged 71 years. In 1804 he was made Professor of Anatomy
and Surgery, in the College of Surgeons, and continued in that chair until 1836.
The result of his lectures was this — that there were sixty medical and surgi
cal students per annum, when he commenced, and the annual average latterly
was nearly a thousand. Dr. James W. Powell, now of New York (the eminent
oculist), who was one of Colles' pupils, informs me that his lectures were " un
ambitious in language, clear in arrangement, full of facts, sound in theory,
plain in delivery, and crowded with practical illusti-ations." In those essen
tials they resembled those of Abernethy, in London. Colles was an excellent
anatomist — but averse to show or display. He was the first surgeon in Ireland
wh6 ever tied the subclavial artery : an operation previously performed only
twice in England. And, in this briefest notice, should be recorded that Colles
was the first surgeon in Europe who ever passed a ligature round the arteria
innominata, the first and largest bi-anch derived from the great trunk of the
aorta. — Colles was somewhat of a humorist. In his fee-book, which he care
fully kept from the commencement of his practice, he had many curious entries,
such as " For giving ineffectual ad^dce for deafness ; one guinea;-^ for attempt
ing to draw out the stump of a tooth, one guinea; — for telling him that he
was no more ill than I was, one guinea ; — for notliing that I know, except that
he probably thought he did not pay me enough last time, one guinea." — Colles
waa offered a baronetcy, which he declined, sensibly saying that the distribu
tion he intended making of his landed property (worth two thousand pounds
sterling a year) would not leave his eldest son sufficient to support an heredi
tary title. — Dr. John Cheyne, for many years at the head of the physicians
in Ireland, was a native of Scotland, and bom in 1777. He served in the
Artillery as surgeon, was on duty in Ireland, during the revolt of 1798, and
on his return to Scotland, became acquainted Avith Mr. (afterward Sir Chai'les)
Bell, with whom he studied pathology and anatomy. At the age of thirty-five,
JDr. Cheyne settled in Dublin. The leading men in the profession, who speedily
saw that he understood acute diseases, as well as being acquainted with mor--
bid anatomy, elected him Physician to Meath Hospital, and, soon after, be wa?

THK CLOSING SCENE. 199
family gather about him. The last consolations of religion
are given, amid heart-broken sobs ; and as he raises himself,
and stretches forth his head to receive the final rite, he casts
his eyes upon the wretches who surround him, and shrinks
back at the sight.
It is in the midst of a scene like this, and when the hour of
agony is at hand, that the loud and heartless voice of official
insolence echoes from chamber to chamber ; and, after a brief
interval, the dreadful certainty, of which the unhappy man
had but too prescient a surmise, is announced. The sheriff's
officers have got in; his majesty's Avrit oi feri facias is in the
progress of exec\ition ; the sanctuaries of death are violated
by the peremptory ministers of the law, and the blanket and
the silk gown are seized together ; and this is the conclusion
of a life of opulence and of distinction, and, let me add, of folly
as well as fame. After having charmed his country by his
eloquence, and enlightened it by his erudition, he breathes his
last sigh amid the tears of his children, the reproaches of his
creditors, and a bailiff's jests.
made Professor of the practice of physic, to the College of Surgeons. This
being during the Peninsular war, when there was a great demand for army-sur
geons, his lectures entered luUy into military medicine, and were crowded du
ring five com-ses. He was appointed Physician to the House of Industry in
1815, resigning his College Professorship and, in 1820, was appointed Phy
sician-General to the Army, the highest medical rank injreland. His annual
income during the next ten years averaged five thousand pounds sterling, from
private practice alone. In 1831, he was compelled, by the formation of the cli
macteric disease, which finally killed him, to retire from practice, amid the regret
of all branches of the profession, and took up his abode at Sherington, a small
village in England, where (to use his own words) " thinking it better to wear
out than to rust out," he practised gratuitously among the poor, wrote some ar
ticles for " The Cyclopaedia of Practical Medicine," and died on the last day
of January, 1836. His family published a. posthumus work, viritten after his
retirement, called, " Essays on Partial Derangement of the Mind, in supposed
connection with Eeligion," in which his theory is that derangement of the mind
invariably is connected with bodily disorder — that religious madness in the first
instance, is perver.'^ion of only one power of the mind — that clergymen err in.
placing Divine truth before those laboring under mental delusion until the bod
ily disease with which it is connected is cured or relieved — and that many of
the doubts and fears of some religious persons depend eitljer upon ignorance
of the constitution and operations of the mind, or upon diseases of the body. — '.M,

200 CALAMITIES OF THE BAE.
* The calamities of which I have drawn this sombre pictui-e,
are the result of weakness and ostentation. Their victims are,
upon that account, less deserving of commiseration than the
unhappy persons whose misfortunes have not been their fault.
This obvious reflection recalls the image of Henry MacDougall.
I hear his honest laugh, which it was good for a splenetic heart
to hear; I see the triumph of sagacious humor in his eye;
those feats of fine drollery, in which pleasantry and usefulness
were so felicitously combined, rise again to my recollection ;
tho roar of merriment into which the bar, the jury, and the
bench used to be thrown by this master of forensic mirth, re
turns upon my ear ; but, alas ! a disastrous token, with the
types of death upon it, mingles itself with these associations.
Poor MacDougall ! he was prized by the wise and beloved by
the good; and, with a ready wit aud a cheerful and sonorous
laugh, he had a manly and independent spirit and a generous
and feeling heart.
Mr. MacDougall was at the head of the Leinster circuit, and
was, if not the best, among the very first class of cross-exami
ners at the Bar. No man better knew how to assail an Irish
witness. There was, at first, nothing of the brow-beating or
dictatorial tone about this good-humored inquisitor, who en
tered into an easy familiarity with his victim, and addressed
him in that spirit of fantastic gibe, which is among the charac
teristics of the country. The witness thought himself on a
level with the counsellor, who invited hiin to a wrestling-
match in wit, abd, holding it a great victory to trip a lawyer
up, promptly accepted the challenge. A hard struggle used
often to ensue, and many a time I have seen the counsellor get
a severe fall. However, he contrived to be always uppermost
at last. The whole of " the fancy," who are very numerous in
Dublin, used to assemble to witness these intellectual gym
nastics. A kind of ring was formed round the combatants, and
my Lord Norbury sat as arbiter of the contest, and insisted
upon fair play. The peals of laughter which were produced
by his achievements in pleasantry procured for MacDougall
the title of " MacDougall of the Eoar."
I shall not readily forget his last display. An action for

MACDOUGALL THE BARRISTER. 201
slander was brought by an apothecary against a rival ph5,rma-
copolist. One of the apprentices of tlie plaintiff was his lead
ing witness, and it fell to Mr. MacDoug.all to cross-examine
liim. The wily lawyer induced the youtlifiil Podalirius to
make a display of his acquirements in detailing the whole
process of his art. The farce of the " Mock Doctor'' has never
produced more mirth. All the faculty attended, and the crowd
of doctors, surgeons, and man-midwives, reached the roof.
They were, however, reluctantly compelled to join in the
tumult of laughter created by this formidable jester at their
expense. The chorus of apothecaries in Moliere's "Bourgeois
Gentilhomme," in which the various mysteries of the profession
are detailed, does not disclose more matter for merriment than
was revealed in the course of this ludicrous investigation.
It is recorded of the " satirical knave," that he was assailed
by the illness of which he died during the personation of a
character intended as a ridicule upon the faculty. I sat close
to Mr. MacDougall, and while I participated in all its mirtli,
my attention was attracted by a handkerchief which the
author of all this merriment was frequently applying to his
mouth, and which was clotted with blood. I thought, at first,
that it proceeded from some ordinary effusion, and turned
again toward the witness, when a loud laugh from the counsel
at the success of a question which he had administered to tho
young apothecary, touching his performance of Romeo in the
private theatre in Fishamble-street [Dublin], directed my
notice a second time to Mr. MacDougall, and I perceived that,
while the whole auditory was shaken with mirth, he was taking
a favorable opportunity of thrusting the bloody handkerchief
into his bag, without attracting the general attention, and
immediately after applied another to his lips. Again he set
upon the Eomeo of Fishamble street, and produced new bursts
of ridicule, of which he took advantage to steal his bloody
napkins away, and to supply himself, without notice, with the
means of concealing the malady which was hurrying him to
the grave.
A day or two after this trial his illness and his ruin were
announced. His high reputation in his profession, his private
V*

202 CALAilTTlES OF THE BAR.
worth, his large family, and tlie opiuion which had been enter
tained of his great professional prosperity, fixed the public
attention upon him. It was at last discovered that all the
earnings of a laborious life had been laid out in speculations
upon lands belonging to the corporation of Waterford, to the
representation of which, it is supposed, he aspired. He had
borrowed large sums of money, and had subjected himself to
enormous rents. He was induced, in the hope of ultimately
retrieving his circumstances, to involve himself more deeply in
debt; and the rank of King's counsel, to which he was raisefl
by Mr. Plunket, in a manner equally honorable to both, offered
a new career to his talents, and led him to expect that all his
difficulties might be at last sunnountetl. But the hope was a
vain one. The pressure was too great for him to bear', and he
sunk at last beneath it.
For a long time he struggled hard to conceal- the state of his
circumstances and of his mind, and assumed a forced hilarity
of manners. He was conspicuous for an obstreperous gayety
at the bar-mess on his circuit, and no man laughed so loudly
or so long as he did; but wlien his apparently exuberant
spirits were spoken of, those who knew him well shook their
heads, and hinted that all was not right within. And so it
proved to be. His mind had for years been corroded with
anxieties. His constitution, although naturally vigorous, was
slowly shaken by the sapping of continual care. A mortal
disease at length declared itself, in the increasing gush of blood
from the gums, which he had employed the expedients that I
have mentioned to conceal. Yet even in the hours of advan
cing dissolution, he could not be induced to absent himself
from court ; and the scene which I have been describing was
one of those in which, if I maj^ so say, Momus and Death were
brought into fellowship. He died a short time after the trial
in which I had noted this painful incident. '
To the last, his love of ludicrous association did not desert
him. A little while before his departure, one of his oldest
friends was standing at his bed-side and bidding him farewell.
During this melancholy parting, a collapse of the jaws took
place, which rendered it necessary to tie a bandage under the

A SKETCH FROM LIFE. 203
chin; and-in the performance of the operation, with the blood
still oozing from his mouth, and trickling down the sheets, he
turned his eyes languidly to his friends, and muttered, with a
faint smile, "I never thought to have died chapfallen." This
observation was not the result of insensibility ; quite the re
verse. " You should have seen him when he spoke it," said
the gentleman who mentioned the circumstance; "I felt like
the companion of Yorick's death-bed, who perceived, by a jest,
that the heart of his friend was broken." It is consolatory to
know, that since his death his property has been turned to
good account, and that his family are placed in independence.
Never to attain to station at the Bar ; to carry the conscious
ness of high talent; to think that there is a portable treasure
in one's mind, which the attorneys do not condescend to ex
plore ; to live for years in hope, and to feel the proverbial
sickness of the heart arising from its procrastination — these
are serious ills. JBut the loss of business, at an advanced
period of life, is a far greater calamity than never to have
attained its possession. Yet a distinction is to be taken.
Those who have been deserted by their business are divisible
into two classes, who are essentially different : the prudent,
who, with the forecast which is so rare a virtue in Ireland,
have taken advantage of the shining of their fortunes, and, by
a sagacious accumulation, are enabled to encounter the caprices
of public favor ; and they who, after a life of profuseness, find
themselves at last abandoned by their clients, without having
preserved the means of respectable support.
The former class suggest a ludicrous, rather than a melan
choly train of images. The contemplation of a rich man out
of employment affords more matter for merriment than for con
dolence. To this body of opulent veterans my friend Pomposo
belongs. His success at the Bar was etainent. He possessed,
in a high degree, a facility of fluent and sonorous speech, and
had an imposing and well-rounded elocution, a deep and musi
cal voice, a fine and commanding figure, and a solemn and
didactic countenance. He flourished at a period when a
knowledge of the minute technicalities of the law was not
essential at the Irish Bar. There was a time when an Irish

204 CALAMITIES OF TIIE EAR.
counseller was winged to heaven by a bill of exchange, and
drew tears from the jury in an ejectment for non-payment of
rent. In those days Pomposo was in the highest repute; and
such was the demand for him, that the attorneys upon opposite
sides galloped from the assize towns to meet him, and some
times arriving at the same moment at the open windows of his
carriage, thrust in their brief, and with a shower of bank-notes,'
and simultaneouslkj' exclaimed that the counsellor belonged to
them. Upon these occasions Pomposo used to throw himself
back in his post-chaise with an air of imperious non-chalance,
and, pocketing the money of both parties, protest that it was
among the calamities of genius to be stopped in the king's
highway, and, drawing up the windows of his carriage, com
manded the postillion to drive on. This half-yearly triumph
of eloquence through the Munster circuit lasted for a consider
able time, and Pomposo found himself a rich man^ When,
after the enactment of the Union, English habits began to
appear, and the iron age of demurrers and of nonsuits suc
ceeded to the glorious days of apostrophes and harangues; it
was all over with Pomposo. Still he loved the Four Courts,
and haunted them.
Becoming at last weary of walking the Hall, he took refuge
in the Library attached to the Courts. It was pleasant to
hear him ask, with an air of earnestness, for the oldest and
most unintelligible repertories of black letter, in which he
affected to seek a pastime. Bracton seemed to be his manual,
and Fleta his vade-mecum. I have heard his deep and solemn
voice, which still retained its old rhetorical tones, breaking in
upon the laborious meditations of the young gentlemen who
had recently returned from Butler's or Sugden's* offices, brist
ling with cases and with puints, and who just raised up their
heads and invested their features with a Lincoln's-Iiiu expres
sion at any intrusion of a lawyer of the old school into this
repository of erudition. Pomposo, liaving armed himself with
one of the year-books, took his station tranquilly by the fire,
•* OJiarles Butler was a Catholic, and one of the best special pleaders in
England, ~ SHg4en (no\V Loifd St. Xiepnards) wrote his great work on Powers
ff})eB ^e y^s pnljr ft year at fre tt^r.— M, '

YELVERTON LAWVEES 205
and after stirring it, and commenting with his habitual mag
niloquence upon the weather, threw open the annals of justice ¦
iu the reign of the Edwards, and fell fast asleep. It has been
recorded of him that he has been heard, upon these occasions,
to speak in his slumbers ; and while Queen Mab was galloping
on his fingers, he has alternately intermingled the prices of
stocks with adjuration to a Munster jury.
Pomposo still goes the circuit. No man is more punctual in
his attendance at the exact hour of dinner at the Bar-room.
The junior, who is generally fresh from a pleader's office, and
enamored of Nisi Prius upon his first tour, remains in court
until the business is concluded, and thus neglects the official
duty which requires his presence at the Bar-room at five
o'clock. Pomposo and an old friend or two enter together.
Pomposo draws forth his watch, and exclaims, " Ten minutes
past five o'clock, and the junior not yet come 1" Having a
taste for music, he beguiles the time with humming some of
those airs for which he was famous in his youth, and goes
through the best portion of the " Beggar's Opera," when six
o'clock strikes. " I protest it is six o'clock, and the junior is
not yet come — 'When the heart of a man,' &c. ;" and so
Pomposo continues until seven o'clock, alternately inveighiiig
against the remissness of modern juniors, and, as Wordsworth
has expressed it, ' whistling many a snatch of merry tunes

That have no mirth in them."
The wealth which this very respectable gentleman has ac
cumulated raises him above the sympathy of the Bar. The
other class of barristers without employment falls more imme
diately under the title with which I have headed this article.
There was a set of men at the Irish Bar who, I think, may be
designated as the " Yelverton school of lawyers." Lord Avon-
more, the Chief Baron of the Exchequer, whose name was
Barry Yelverton, originally belonged to that grade in society
which is within the reach of education, but below that of re
finement. He never lost the indigenous roughness and asper
ity of character, which it has been said to be the office of

206 CALAMITIES OF THE EAR.
literature to soften and subdue; but he had a noble intellect,
and in the deep rush of his eloquence tire imperfections of his
manner were forgotten.
His familiarity with the models of antiquity was great, and
his mind had imbibed much of the spirit of the orators of
Greece and Rome, which he infused into his own powerful dis
courses. So great was his solicitude to imbue himself with the
style of the eminent writers whom he admired, that he trans
lated several of their works, without a view to publication.
His talents raised him to the highest place at the Bar, and
his political complaisance lifted him to the Bench. In private
life he possessed many excellent qualities, of which the most
conspicuous was his fidelity in friendship. In his ascent he
raised up the companions of his youth along with him. The
business of the Court of Exchequer was, under his auspices,
divided among a set of choice spirits who had been the boon
companions of his youth, and belonged, as well as himself, to
a jovial fraternity, who designated themselves by the very
characteristic title of " Monks of the Screw."*
* Cun'an, who like all wits, was an eminently social man, collected around
him, while struggling at the bar, an assemblage of choice spirits, chiefly of his
own profession. Among the members were Henry Flood, Grattan, Father
O'Leary, Lord Charlemont, Judge Day and others who were destined to wear
the ormine, Bowes Daly, Jerry Keller, Lord Avonmore, and others. They
formed a jovial society, meeting during term on every Saturday night (the law
yer's holyday), under the presidency of CuiTan, who was Grand Prior of tlie
Order, and wrote the charter song, of which only the following stanzas haye
come down to us : —
" When St. Patrick our Order created.
And called us the Monks of the Screw,
Good rules he revealed to our Abbot,
To guide us in what we should do.
But first he replenished his fountain.
With liquor the best in the sky.
And swore, by the word of his saintship.
That fountain should never run dry.
" My children ! be chaste — till you're tempted :
1 While sober, be wise and discreet.
And humble your bodies with fasting.
Whene'er — you've got nothing to eat!

MONKS OF THE SCREW. 207
These merry gentlemen encountered a nonsuit with a joke,
and bafiled authority with a repartee. A system of avowed
and convivial favoritism prevailed in the court; and the
"facundi calices,'' which had been quaffed with his lordship,
were not unnaturally presumed to administer to the inspiration
of counsel on the succeeding day. The matins performed in
court were but a prolongation of the vespers which had been
celebrated at the abbot's house ; and as long as the head of
the order continued on the Bench, the "Monks of the Screw"
were in vogue; but when the Chief Baron died, their bags
were immediately assailed with atrophy. They lost their busi
ness, and many of them died in extreme indigence. It may
be readily imagined that their habits were inconsistent with
the spirit of saving. They were first pitied, then forgotten,
and soon after buried.
Most of these gentlemen flourished and -n^hered before raj
time. One of them, however, I do remember, who survived
his companions, and whose natural vitality of spirit, and Dio
genes turn of philosophy, sustained his energy to the last.
This was Mr. Jeremiah Keller, who was universally known
by the more familiar appellation of Jerry Keller in the Courts.*
Then be not a glass in the convent.
Except on festival found ;
And, this rule to enforce, I ordain it —
A festival all the year round."
Some five or six years ago, I met an aged clergyman in London, whom I rec
ollect on three accounts:^ at the age of 86, he remembered all the cards
played at whist, by whom played, and in what order ; he had voted, in 1780,
being then twenty-two years old, at the election for Bristol, when one of the
candidates, following Burke, who had made a long speech, briefly and effectively
exclaimed, " I say ditto to Mr. Burke ;" and he had been one of the " Monks of
the Screw." The club, for it was such, was established (he said) when Curran,
a poor man, could not afford the expense of entertaining his boon-companions.
It originally was a sort o^ pic nic, each man sending in what he pleased, to make
up the feast, the supply being usually so abundant as to supply Curran's
domestic wants for the ensuing week. Eventually, the monks had rooms of
their own. — M.
* Jerry Keller, as he was always called, was an Irish barrister of immense
talent, whose life was a failure. He used no mean arts (and such were com
mon in his day) to obtain briefs. He neither flattered seniors nor entertained
attorneys, nor flirted with their wives, nor coquetted with their daughters. He

208 CALAMITIES OF TILE BAR.
The attorneys could deprive him of his briefs, but could not
rob him of his wit. He was a man
" replete with mocks.

Full of comparisons and wounding flouts."
The loss of business served to whet his satire and give more
poignancy to his biting mirth. He used to attend the Hall
of the Courts with punctuality, and was generally surrounded
by a circle of laughers, whom the love of malicious pleasantry
attracted about him. His figure and demeanor were remark
able. He never put on his wig and gown, as he scorned the
affectation of employment, but appeared in an old frieze great
coat of rusty red, which reached to his heels, and enveloped
the whole of his gaunt and meagre person. A small and
pointed hat stood upon his head, with a narrow and short-
curled brim. Hi^ arms were generally thrust into the sleeves
of his coat, which gave him a peculiarity of attitude.
Looking at him from a distance, you would have taken him
for some malevolent litigant from the country, upon whose
passions a group of mockers wei'e endeavoring to play ; but,
upon a more attentive perusal of his countenance, you per
ceived a habit of thought, of a superior order, and the expres-
did not succeed at the bar, as a man so gifted should have succeeded. At last
he limited his ambition to shining at the social board, and there few eclipsed
him. A dull rival, named Mayne, \vas made a judge ; " There," he was heard
to mutter, like the under-gi"owl of a tempest, " there Mayne risen by his grav
ity, and Keller sunk by his levit}-: what would Ne^-ton say to that!" — Hewas
witty. He dined, in 1780, at the house of one Garrett Mooi-e, grocer and whis
key-vender, in Aungier street, Dublin. When the mirth grew " fiist and furi
ous," an intimation was made that the lady of the house had just been confined.
*'Let us adjourn," said his friend. " Certafnly," replied Jerry, "pro re -nata,."
The young sti-anger, was Thomas Moore, the poet. — An attorney, with a pecu
liar malformation of hands, explaining an art of parliament, sprawled his de
formed members over the page. " Here it is," he cried, " here's the clause."
Jerry answered, " you are right, for once — they're more like clatDS than hands."
When, in 1800, Barry Yelverton was raised fi-om the rank of Baron, to that of
Viscount Avonmore, because he had voted for the Union, he summoned a few
fiiends to read the draft of the patent. It was worded, " To all to whom
these letters-patent shall come, greeting ; We of the United kingdom of Great
Biitain and Ireland — " — "Stop!" said Keller, who was one of the party,
"the consideration is set out too early in the deed." — M.

209
•»6ion of no ordinary mind. His features were sharp, and
pointed to the finest edge. There was that acuteness of the
nose which denotes the lover of a gibe. His eyes were pier
cing, clear, and brassy ; they were filled with a deadly irony,
which never left them. A flash of malignant exultation play
ed over his features when he saw how deeply the shaft had
struck, and with what a tenacity it stuck to his victim. The
quiver of his lip, in giving utterance to some mortal sneer, was
peculiarly comical : he seemed as if he were chewing the
poison before he spat it forth. His teeth gave a short chatter
of ridicule ; you heard a dry laugh, a cachinnus which wrinkled
all his features, and after a sardonic chuckle, he darted forth
the fatal jest, amidst those plaudits for its bitterness which had
become his only consolation.
Jerry Keller, as the senior, presided at the mess of the Mun
ster bar, and ruled in all the autocracy of unrivalled wit. It
was agreed upon all hands that Jerry should have a carte-
blanche with every man's character, and that none of his sar
casms, however formidable, should provoke resentment. This
was a necessary stipulation ; for when he had been roused by
those potations, in which, according to a custom which be did
not consider as " honored by the breach," he liberally in
dulged, there was a Malagrowther savageness in his sarcasm
which made even the most callous shrink. He who laughed
loudest at the thrust which his neighbor had received, was the
next to feel the weapons of this immitigable satirist. To enter
into a struggle with him, was a tempting of God's providence.
You were sure to be pierced in an instant by this accomplished
gladiator, who could never be taken off his guard. Jerry had
been a Catholic, and still retained a lurking reverence for a
herring upon Good Friday. A gentleman of no ordinary pre
tension,* observing that Jerry abstained from meat on that
sacred day, ventured to observe, " I think, Jerry, you have
still a damned deal of the Pope in your belly." — " If I have,"
said Jerry, " you have a damned deal of the Pretender in your
head." * Nicholas Purcell O'Gorman, Secretary to the Catholics for many years, and
Appointed County Judge by Lord Anglesey, when Viceroy. — M.

210 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.
I was one day (let not the reader allow himself to be startled*
by too sudden a transition from Dublin to Constantinople) — I
was, I recollect, one day, repeating this sarcasm to a gentle
man who had recently returned from the East, and mentioned
the name of the barrister, Mr. N  , to whom it had been
applied ; and I was a good deal surprised, tbat, instead of
joining in a laugh at the bitterness of the retort, his face as
sumed a melancholy expression. I asked him the cause of it,
when he told me, that the name which I had just uttered, had
recalled to him a very remarkable and very painful incident
which had happened to him at Constantinople. I begged him
to relate it. " I was one evening," he said, " walking in the
cemeteries of Constantinople. But I have, I believe, written
an account of this adventure in my journal, and had better
read it to you."
He accordingly took a huge book from a drawer, and read
as follows: — "It is not unusual for the inhabitants of the
Asiatic portion of the great capital of Islamism, to walk in the
evening amid the vast repositories of the dead, which, are
adjacent to Scutari. Death is little dreaded in the East, while
the remains of the deceased are objects of tenderness and
respect among their surviving kindred. This pious sentiment
being unaccompanied by that dismay with which we are apt to
look upon the grave, attracts the Turks to the vast fields where
their friends and kindred are deposited.
" I proceeded upon a summer evening from Constantinople,
properly so called, to the Asiatic side, and entered the vast
groves of cypresses which mark the residence of the dead. The
evening was brilliant. There was not a breath of wind to
stir the leaves of those dismal trees, which spread on every
side as far as the sight can reach, and, being planted in long
and uniform lines, open vistas of death, and conduct the eye
through long sweeps of sepulchres to the horizon. The dwel
lings of the dead were filled with the living. The ranges of
cypresses were crowded with Turks, who moved with that slow
and solemn gait which is peculiar to the country. The flowing
and splendid dresses of those majestic infidels, their lofty tur
bans, of which the image is sculptured upon every monument.

A TURKISH CEMETERY.

211

itheir noble demeanor, and their silence and collectedness, by
the union of life and death together, gave an additional solem
nity to this imposing spectacle. The setting of the sun threw
a mournful splendor upon the foliage of the trees, and lighted
up this forest of death with a funereal glory.
" I leaned against a cypress which grew over a grave on
which roses had been planted. From this spot, full of those
' flower-beds of graves,' as Mr. Hope* has called them, and
which mothers or sisters had in all likelihood so adorned (it
is the usage in the East to apparel a tomb with these domestic
tokens of endearment), I looked around me. While I was
contemplating 'this patrimony of the heirs to decay,' my
attention was attracted by a man dressed in tattered white, and
with a ragged turban on his head, who stood at a small dis
tance front me, and, although attired in the dress of the coun
try, had something of the Frank in his aspect. There was
an air of extreme loneliness and desolation about him. He
leaned with his back to a marble sepulchre, which was raised
by the side of the public road that for miles traverses the
cemeteries. His arms were folded, his head was sunk on his
chest, and his eyes fixed upon the earth. The evening was
far advanced, and, as it grew dark, the crowds who had pre
viously filled the cemetMjies began to disperse.
"Asthe brightness of the evening passed away, I perceived
that dense and motionless cloud of stagnant vapors, which had
disappeared in the setting sun, but which, Mr. Hope tells us,
for ever hangs over these dreary realms, and is exhaled from
the swelling soil ready to burst with its festering contents. A
chilly sensation stole upon me, and I felt that I was ' set down
in the midst of the valley which was full of bones.' I was
about to depart from this dismal spot, when, looking toward the
sepulchre where I had observed the solitary figure I have been
describing, I perceived that he was approaching. I was at
first a little startled, and, although my apprehensions passed
away when he addressed me in the English language, my
surprise, when I looked at him, was not a little increased. He
said, that he conjectured from my appearance that I was an
* In "Anastatius," a Turkish romance, by the late Thomas Hope.— M.

312 CALAMITIES OF THE BAR.
Englishman ; and was proceeding to implore, with the faltering
of shame, for the means of sustenance, when I could not avoid
exclaiming, 'Gracious God! can it be?' — 'Alas!' said the
unfortunate man, covering his face with his hands, 'it is too
true. I am Mr. N  , of the Irish bar.' "*
The gentleman who read this singular incident from his
journal, was at the time employed in writing a Tour in the
East, and may have tinged his description of the cemeteries
of Stamboul with some mental colors. But, of the fact of this
interview having taken place in the burial-ground of Constan
tinople, I have no doubt. It would not be easy to imagine
adventures more disastrous than those of the unhappy Mr.
N  . He moved in Dublin in the highest circles, and was
prized for the gracefulness of his manners and the gayety of
his conversation. He became a favorite at the castle, and was
admitted to the private parties at the vice-regal palace. The
late Duchess of Gordon visited Ireland, and was greatly
pleased with his genius for losing at piquet. No person was
preferred by that ingenious dowager to a votary of fortune,
who still continued to worship at a shrine where his prayers
had never been heard. It was rumored that he was every
day plunging himself more deeplj' into ruin ; still he preserved
his full and ruddy cheek, and his glWtering and cheerful eye.
Upon a sudden, however, the crash came, and his embarrass
ments compelled him to leave the country.
Hehad one friend, Mr. Croker, of the Admiralty, had known
him when he was himself at the Irish bar, and was diligently
employed in writing those admirable satires, with which I
shall endeavor, upon some future occasion, to make the En
glish public better acquainted ; for Mr. Croker is not only the
author of " The Battle of Talavera," but likewise of the
"Familiar Epistles," and is thought to have assisted Mr.
* Mr. Norcott was the person here indicated. He was a great favorite with
the Duke of Richmond (who was Viceroy of Ireland from 1807 until 1813), and
sacrificed his bar prospects, which were good, and his talents, which were con-,
siderable, to the poor vanity of being a court-favorite. His fortune passed
frora him at the card-table — as it often does when the points at short wUst are
fifty guineas each, with " a pony" (or five-and-twenty pounds) on the odd trick.
He perished, a renegade, as described in the sketch. — M.

JOHN "^^'ILSON CROKER. 213
N  in tlie composition of ** The Metropolis."* These
vei-y ahle pasquinades were but tlie preludes to high under
takings. ^ John Wilson Croker, well known as a politician and'kutlior, was bom in
1780, educated at Dublin University, and called to the bar in 1802. Accident
threw him into Parliament — for, having been professionally engaged at Down
patrick election, in 1807, he was returned as member for that borough. Thence,
until the passing of the Reform Bill, in 1832, he continuously held a seat in
Parliament — five years of that period, for the University of Dublin. In 1809,
when Colonel Wardle brought his charges against the Duke of York (second
son of George III., and Commander-in-Chief of ihe army), of having permiltcd
Mary Ann Clarke, his mistress, to dispose of military and Other appointments,
under his patronage, Croker so ably and zealously defended the Duke, as a vol
unteer, that (though his convicted client had to resign the command of the
army) the post of Secretary of the Admiralty was given him, in gratitude for
the serv'ice, and he retained this lucrative office, then worth nearly three thou
sand pounds sterling a year, until 1830, when he retired, on the break-up of the
Wellington Minietiy, on a pension of fifteen hundred pounds a year. Two
years earlier he had been made a Privy Councillor. When the Grey Adminis
tration brought in and earned their Reform Bill, they were met on evei^ detail
by Croker, who showed a tact, readiness, and even eloquence, joined with
ready wit and sarcasm, for which few had previously given him credit. To use
thq language in which Mr. Thackeray described the glorious conduct of the
gi-eat Washington, he *' fought with a courage worthy of a better cause !" —
Here ended Croker's political life, for he kept his vow that he would not sit in
a reformed House of Commons. His earlier literary productions, sarcastic and
shrewd, were on local subjects, and had their chief celebrity in Dublin, where
their allusions were understood and relished. His first prose work of perma
nent interest was called " Stories firom the History of England," which Scott
look as the model of his own familiar " Tales of u. Grandfather.'' He has
edited the Suffolk Papers, the Letters of Lady Hei"vey and her husband, and
Boswell's Life of Johnson. This last, which was crowded with errors amid a
great mass of new and illustrative ajmotation, drew down a severe critique, in
the " Edinburgh Review," from the pen of Macaulay ; a favor which Croker re
turned, with interest, on Macaulay's " History of England." This critique
appeared in the " Quarterly Review,''^ established, in 1809, through the combi
nation of Scott, Canning, Croker, and their fi-iends. Croker, who was admit
ted to much familiarity with George IV., both as- Regent and King, was in
habits of intimacy with the nobility as well as the leading men of letters and
artists on the Tory side. One of his latest criticisms was published in the Quar
terly Review for July, 1853, on Lord John Russell's " Life, Journals, and Let
ters, of Thomas Moore," in which the noble editor and the peer-loving "poet
of all circles" were ruthlessly tormented, tomahawked, and scalped. It is an
old and time saying that "those who play at bowls must expect rubbers," and
Mr, Croker has been treated, in this retributive spirit, by Mr. D'lsraeli, who

214 CALAMITIES OF THfi) BAR.
It does Mr. Croker great honor that, in his emergencies, his
brother barrister and ¦ satirist was not forgotten. The honor
able Secretary promised a lucrative situation for Mr. N  in
the island of M'^lta. His Irish friends looked forward to the
period when he should be enabled, after recruiting his cir
cumstances, to return to Ireland, and to reanimate Kildaffe-
street club-house, with that vivacious pleasantry of which he
was a felicitous master ; wheji, to everybody's astonishment,
it was announced that Mr. N. had left the island,* had taken
up his residence at Constantinople, and renounced his religion
with his hat.
He became a renegade, and invested his brows with a tur
ban. The motives assigned for this proceeding it is not neces
sary to mention. It is probable that he involved himself a
second time by play, and that he had no other resource than
the expedient of a conversion, through the painful process of
which he heroically went. Having carried some money with
him to Constantinople, he at first made a considerable figure.
He was dressed in the extreme of Turkish fashion, and was
considered to have ingratiated himself by his talents into the
favor of some leading members of the Divan. His prosperity
at Constantinople, however, was evanescent. His money was
soon spent, and he fell into distress. Letters of the most
heart rending kind were written to his friends in Dublin, in
which he represented himself as in want of the common means
of subsistence.
It was in this direful state of destitution that he addressed
himself, in the cemeteries of Constantinople, to a person whom
he guessed to be a native of these countries, and whom he dis
covered to be his fellow-citizen. His condition was lamentable
has drawn him, in his political novel of " Conyngsby," as the mean, toadying, and
illiberal Digby. It is understood that, though now [1854] in his seventy-fourth
year, Mr. Croker is editing the works of Alexander Pope. In his editorial as
well as in his critical capacity, Croker avoids anything like a broad view of the
subject, but carefully creeps over it, applying himself to the examination 'of
minute details. He is never so hnppy as when he " breaks a butterfly upon the
wheel." — M.
* Barrington says, " At Malta he soon disgraced himself in a manner which
for ever excluded him from society. — M."

215
beyond the power of description. His dress was at once the
emblem of apostacy and of want. It hung in rags about a
person which, from -a robust magnitude of frame, had shrunk
into miserable diminution. He carried starvation in his
cheeks ; ghastliness and misery overspread his features, and
despair stared in his glazed and sunken eye. He did not long
survive his calamities.
The conclusion of his story may be briefly told. For a
little while he continued to walk through the streets of Con
stantinople in search of nourishment, and haunted its ceme
teries like the dogs to which Christians are compared. He
had neither food, roof, nor raiment. At length he took the
desperate resolution of relapsing into Christianity; for he
indulged in the hope, that, if he could return to his former
faith, and effect his escape from Constantinople, although he
could not appear in these countries again, yet, on the conti
nent, he might obtain at least the means of life from the
friends, who, although they could not forgive his errors, might
take compassion upon his distress. He accordingly endeav
ored to fly from Constantinople, and induced some Englishmen
who happened to be there, to furnish money enough to effect
his escape. But the plot was discovered. He was pursued,
and taken at a small distance from Constantinople; his head
was struck off upon the beach of the Bosphorus, and his body
thrown into the sea.

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

HIS SAINTLY CHARACTEE. 217
pear to be utterly preposterous and inane. The reputation which
Eomilly has left behind must sound as idle in his ears as the
wind that shakes the thistle upon his grave. An ardent reli
gionist must shrink from those offices which a lawyer would
designate as the duties, and wliich are among the necessary
incidents, of his profession. To play for a little of that worth
less dross, which is but a modification of the same material
upon which he must at last lie low, all the multiform variety
of personation which it is the business of a lawyer to assume —
to barter his anger and his tears — to put in mirth or sorrow,
as it suits the purpose of every man who can purchase the
mercenary joke or the stipendiary lamentation — these appear
to be offices for which an enthusiastic Christian is not eminently
qualified. Still less would he be disposed to misquote and to
misrecite — to warp the facts, and to throw dust into the eyes
of justice — to enter into an artificial sympathy with baseness
— to make prostitutes of his faculties, and surrender them in
such an uncompromising subserviency to the passions of his
client, as to make them the indiscriminate utensils of de
pravity. How fallacious is all speculation when unillustrated by ex
ample, and how rapidly these misty conjectures disappear,
before the warm and conspicuous piety of the learned gentle
man whose name is prefixed to this number of the " Sketches
of the Irish Bar.'' This eminent practitioner, who has rivals
in capacity, but is without a competitor in religion, refutes all
this injurious surmise ; and in answer to mere inference and
theory, the sainted fraternity among whom he plays so remark
able a part, and who with emulative admiration behold him
uniting in his person the good things of the Old Testament,
with the less earthly benedictions of the New, may triumph
antly appeal to the virtues and to the opulence of Mr. Sergeant
Leproy. The person who has accomplished this exemplary reconcili-
otion between characters so opposite in appearance as a de
voted follower of the gospel and a wily disputant at the bar,
stands in great prominence in the Four Courts, but is still
more noted among " the saints" in Dublin, and I think may be
Vol. I.— 10

218 THOMAS LEFROY.
accounted their leader. These are an influential and rapidly-
increasing body, which is not wholly separated from the church,
but is appended to it by a very loose and slender tie. They
may be designated as the Jansenists of the establishment ; for
in their doctrines of grace and of election they border very
closely upon the professors of the Port-Eoyal. For men who
hold in such indifference the pleasures of the world, they are
singularly surrounded with its fugacious enjoyments. Encom
passed with innocuous luxuries and innocent voluptuousness,
they felicitously contrast their external wealth with that mor
tification of the spirit of which they make so lavish a profes
sion, and of which none but an irreclaimable skeptic could
entertain a doubt.
At the bar they are to be found in considerable strength,
and are distinguished among their brethren for their zeal in
the advancement of the interests of religion and their own.
They are, in general, sedulous and well-informed— competent
to the discharge of ordinary business, and free of all ambition
of display — a little uncandid in their practice, and careless of
the means by which success is to be attained — pursuivants of
authority and followers of the great — gentlemanlike in their
demeanor, but not without that touch of arrogance toward their
inferiors which is an almost uniform attendant upon an over
anxious deference to power — strong adherents to abstract
principles of propriety, and vehement inculcators of the eternal
rules of right, but at the same time not prodigally prone to any
Samaritan sensibilities — amiable in their homes, and some
what selfish out of them — fluent reciters of the Scriptures —
conspicuously decent in their manners, and entirely regardless
of the apple-wenches in the Hall.
The great prototype of this meritorious fraternity is Mr. Ser
geant Lefroy. It would do good to the heart of the learned
member for Galway to visit his stables on a Sunday. The
generous animals who inhabit these exemplary tenements, par
ticipate in his relaxations, and fulfil with scriptural exactness
the sacred injunction of repose. Smooth as their benevolent
master, they stand in their stalls amid all the luxury of grain,
and, from their sobriety and sleekness, might readily be recog-

A GOD-FEARING LAWYER. 219
Bised as the steeds of a prosperous and pious man. It is one
of the Sergeant's favorite canons that the lower orders of the
animal creation should join in the celebration of the seventh
day, and contribute the offering of their involuntary homage.
Loosened himself from the rich wain of his profession, he ex
tends a similar indulgence to the gentle quadrupeds, who are
relieved on that day from the easy obligation of drawing one
of the handsomest equipages in Dublin, to which, in all proba
bility, the chariots of the primitive Christians did not bear a
very exact resemblance.
If you should chance on Sunday to walk near the Asylum
(a chapel in Leeson street, which, from the number of sancti
monious lawyers who inhabit it, is called " Swaddling bar"),
you will see the learned Sergeant proceeding to this favored
domicil of worship, near which he resides without any verifi
cation of the proverb, with a huge bible bound in red morocco
under his arm. It is a truly edifying spectacle. A halo of
piety is diffused about him. His cheeks, so far from being
worn out by the vigils of his profession, or suffused with the
evaporations of the midnight lamp, are bright, shining, and
vermilioned. There is a gloss of sanctity upon them, which is
happily contrasted with the care-colored visages of the profane.
A serious contentedness is observable in his aspect, which in
dicates a mind on the best footing with Heaven and with itself.
There is an evangelical neatness in his attire. His neck-
clock is closely tied, and knotted with a simple precision. His
suit of sables, in the formality of its outline, bears attestation
to the stitches of some inspired tailor who alternately cuts out
a religion and a coat ; his hose are of gray silk ; his shoes are
burnished with a mysterious polish, black as the lustre of his
favorite Tertullian. As he passes to the house of worship, he
attracts the pious notice of the devouter fair who flock to the
windows to behold him ; but, heedless of their perilous admi
ration, he advances without any indulgence of human vanity,
and joins the convocation of the elect. There his devotion ex
hales itself in enraptured evaporations, which nothing but the
recognition of some eminent solicitor in the adjoining pew can
interrupt. The service being over, he proceeds to fill up the

220 THOMAS LEFROY.
residue of the day with acts of religious merit, and, as I have
heard, with deeds of genuine humanity and worth.
With him, I really believe that upon a day which he sets
apart from worldly occupation, with perhaps too much Puritan
exactness, " works of mercy are a part of rest." While I ven
ture to indulge in a little ridicule of his Sabbatarian precision,
which is not wholly free from that sort of pedantry which is
observable in religion as well as in learning, I should regret to
withhold from him the encomium which he really deserves.
It has been whispered, it is true, that his compassion is, in a
great degree, instigated by his theological predilections, and
that it has as much of sectarianism as of philanthropy. But
humanity, however modified, is still humanity. ,If, in leaving
the chamber of suffering and of sorrow, he marks with a bank
note the leaf of the Bible which he has been reading at the
bedside of some poorer saint, let there be given to his benevo
lence, restricted as it may be by bis peculiar propensities in
belief, a cordial praise. The sphere of charity must needs be
limited ; and of bis own money, it is a clear truism to say, he
is entitled to dispose as he thinks proper. With respect to the
public money, the case is different ; and upon the distribution
of a fund of which he and certain other gentlemen of his pro
fession are the trustees (so at least they have made themselves),
there appears less right to exercise a summary discretion. I
allude to the Kild are-street Association, of which he is one of
the principal members.
The street from which this association has derived its name
has brought the extremes in morals into a close conjunction.
The Pharisees of Dublin have posted themselves in a most
Sadducean vicinage, for their meetings are held beside the
most /ashionnble gaming-club* in Ireland. Loud indeed and
long are the oratorical ejaculations which issue from the as
semblies held under the peculiar auspices of the illuminated
associates of the long robe. Here they hold out a useful exam
ple of prudence as well as of zeal, and indulge their generous
propensities at little cost.
They receive, by parliamentary grant, an annual sum of six
* Daly's Olub-House. — M.

EDUCATION IN lEELAND. 221
thousand pounds for the education of the poor;* and by a pro
digious stretch of individual beneficence, a hundred guineas
are added through a private subscription among the elect. In
the allocation of this fund, they have established rules which
are entirely at variance with the ends for which the grant has
been made by Parliament.* They require that the Bible should
be r^ad in every school to which assistance is given. With
this condition the Eoman Catholic clergy (and the chief among
the Protestant hierarchy concur in their opposition) have re
fused to comply. The indiscriminate perusal of the Scriptures,
unaccompanied by any comment illustrative of the peculiar
sense in which they are explained by the Eoman Catholic
church, seems to be inconsistent with the principles in which
that church is founded. The divines of Kildare street have,
however, undertaken the difficult task of demonstrating to this
obstinate and refractory priesthood that they understood the
tenets and spirit of their religion much better than any doctor
at Maynooth.t A consequent acrimony has arisen between
the parties, and the result has been that the few channels of
education which exist in the country are denied all supply
from a source which has been thus arbitrarily shut up.
It is lamentable that, in the enforcement of these fanatical
enactments, so much petty vindictiveuess and theological acer
bity should be displayed. The assemblies held at Kildare
street, with the ostensible view of advancing the progress of
intelligence among the lower classes, exhibit many of the qual
ities of sectarian virulence in their most ludicrous shape. A
few individuals who presume to dissent from the august authori
ties who preside at these meetings, occasionally venture to
enter their public protest against both the right and the pro
priety of imposing a virtually impracticable condition upon the
allocation of the parliamentary fund. Lord Cloncurry implores
them, with an honest frankness, to abandon their proselytizing
* This grant has been withdrawn for some years, and what is called the Na
tional has superseded the Kildare-street system of education. — M.
+ The Roman Catholic CoUege of Maynooth, endowed by Parliament, for the
education of young men destined for the Church. They previously had to go
to France or Italy for that pui-pose. — M.

222 THOMAS LKFROY. "
speculation. O'Connell, too, who "like a French falcon flies
at everything he sees," comes panting from the Pour Courts,
and gives them a speech straight. The effects produced upon
the auditory, which is compounded of very different materials
from the meetings which the counsellor is in the habit of ad
dressing with so much success, are not a little singular.
Of the ingredients of this assembly it may not be amiss to
say a few words. Aware of his purpose, the Saints employ
themselves for some days before in congregating all those who
hold his politics and his creed in their most special abhorrence.
They accordingly collect a very motley convocation. In the
background are posted a strong phalanx of the ragged and
ferocious votaries of Mr. Cooper.* These persons belong to
the lower classes of Protestants, of whose religion it would not
be easy to give any more definite description than that they
regard the Plunket-street orator as on a very close footing with
the Divinity, and entertain shrewd doubts whether he be not
the prophet Enoch himself. Adjoining to tbis detachment,
which is posted as a kind of corps de reserve, whose aid is to be
resorted to upon a case of special emergency, the Evangelicals
of York street are draw^n up. Next come a chosen band of
Quakers and Quakeresses ; and lastly are arrayed the Saints,
more properly so called, with the learned Sergeant and divers
oily-tongued barristers at their head. The latter are judi
ciously dispersed among the pretty enthusiasts who occupy the
front benches, and whisper a compliment in the ear of some
soft-eyed votary, who bears the seal of grace upon her smooth
aud ivory brow.
It may not be inappropriate to observe, that among the
softer sex the Saints have made very considerable way. The
cold worship of the establishment is readily abandoned for the
more impassioned adoration which corrects the tameness and
frigidity of the constituted creed. The latter is, indeed, a kind
of Catholicism cut down; it is popery without enthusiasm;
and to remedy its want of stimulus, an exciting system has
been devised, the practices and tenets of which are endowed
* An " unco pious" pillar of the Protestant ascendency party in Dublin in
1823, when this pajier was written. — M.

o'cONNELL ON THK BIBLE. 223
with a peculiar pungency. The Kildare street meetings are
.attended by some of the prettiest women in Dublin; and I
should say, in justice to these tender devotees, that they ap
pear there with a peculiar interest. There is a 'studied mod
esty in their attire that only excites the imaginations which it
purposes to repress.
In this scene, thus strangely compoimded, it is pleasant to
see the Popish agitator engaged in a wrestle with the passions
and antipathies of his hearers. The moment he rises, an ob
scure murmur, or rather growl, is heard iu the more distant
parts of the room. This discourteous sound proceeds from the
Cooperites, who find it difficult to restrain themselves from any
stronger expression of abhorrence toward this poisoned scion
of St. Omer's.* The politer portion of the audience interfere,
and the learned Sergeant entreats that he may be heard.
O'Connell proceeds, and professes as strong and unaffected
a veneration for the Holy Writings as any of thera can enter
tain; but at the same time begs to insinuate, that the Bible is
not only the repository of Divine truths, but the record of
human depravity, and that, as a narrative, it comprehends
examples of atrocity, with the detail of which it is, perhaps,
injudicious that youth and innocence should become familiar.
Are crimes which rebel against nature, the fit theme of domes
tic contemplation? and are not facts set forth in the Old
Testament, from the very knowledge of which every father
should depire to secure his child 1 If he were desperate enough
to open the Holy Writings in that very assembly, and to read
aloud the examples of guilt which they commemorate, the face
of every woman wovli turn to scarlet, and the hand of every
man would be lifted up in wrath : and are the pages which
reveal the darkest depths of depravity fitted for the specula
tions of boyhood and the virgin's meditations ? Will not the
question be asked. What does all this mean 1 and is it right
that such a question should be put, to which such an answer
may be given 1 The field of conjecture ought not to be opened
* O'Connell, it should be borne in mind, was originally intended for the
priesthood, aud received his early education at the college of St Omer, in
France. — M.

224 THOMAS LEFROY.
to those whose innocence and whose ignorance are so closely
allied. Sacred as the tree of knowledge may appear, and
although it grow beside that of life, its fruits are full of bitter
ness and death.
Mr. O'Connell then insists that the Scriptures ought not to
be forced into circulation, aud that a bounty should not be put
upon their dispersion among the shoeless, hoseless, shirtless,
and houseless peasantry of Ireland. Give them work and food
instead of theology. Are they capable of comprehending the
dark and mysterious intimations of St. Paul, or St. John's
Eevelation ? Would not the Apocalypse bother the learned
Sergeant himself? and have not his poor countrymen enough
to endure, and are they not sufficiently disposed to quarrel,
without the additional incentive of polemics ? Is it in a ditch
school that his learned friend conceives that the masteries of
the Trinity, of the Incarnation, and not more embarrassing
Sacrament, are to be discussed 1
Kindling as he advances, the great demagogue throws him
self into other topics, and charges his pious friends with a
violation of their duty to the public, in the arbitrary imposition
of conditions against which every Eoman Catholic exclaims.
He disputes their right to exercise a compulsion founded on
their own fantasies in the execution of a solemn trust, and at
last roundly insinuates that proselytism must be their object.
At this a mighty uproar ensues. The holj- rabble iu the
distance send up a tremendous shout : their Bibles are brand
ished — their eyes gleam with a more deadly fire — and their
faces become more formidably grim : — a thrill of indignation
runs through the whole assembly — the spirit of Obadiah himself
is moved within him, aud even the ladies allow the fierce infec
tion to make its way into their gentle and forbearing breasts.
A universal sibilation is heard — mouths that pout and mince
their orisons with Madonna sweetness are suddenly distorted
— a hiss issues from the lips of roses, and intimates the venom
that lurks beneath. O'Connell struggles hard and long, but he
is at length fairly shouted down,
In the midst of this stormy confusion, the learned Sergeant
appears, and the moment his tall and slender person is pre-

AT A KILDARE STEEET MEHflNG. 225
sented to their notice, a deep and reverential silence pervades
the meeting. The previous tumult is followed by attention
" Still as night, or uummer's noontide air" —
the ladies resume their suavity, and look angelical again ; and
the men chuckle at his anticipated triumphs over the far-famed
missionary of Antichrist.
To pursue their champion through his victorious reply would
swell my pages beyond their fitting compass ; suffice it to say,
that he satisfactorily demonstrates the propriety of teaching the
alphabet from the Prophecies, aud turning the Apocalypse into
a primer. He points out the manifold advantages of familiar
izing the youthful mind with the history of the Jews. The
applauses of his auditors, and his own heated conviction (for
he is quite sincere), inflame him into emotions which bear a
resemblance to eloquence, and raise his language beyond its
ordinary tone. The feelings nearest to his heart ascend to his
mind, and communicate their effervescence. His phrase is
struck with the stamp of passion. His eye becomes ennobled
with better thought; he shuffles off for a moment the coil of
his forensic habitudes. The universal diffusion of Christian
truth fills him with enthusiasm. He beholds the downfall of
Popery in the opening dimness of time. Every chapel is
touched by that harlequin the fancy into a conventicle. The
mass bells are cracked, and the pots of lustral water are shat
tered. A millennium of Metliodism succeeds. A new Jerusa
lem arises. The Jews are converted (a favorite project with
the Sergeant, who holds an annual meeting for the purpose) ;
all Monmouth street is illuminated; its tattered robes are
turned into mantles of glory. The temple is rebuilt upon an
exact model of the Four-Courts. The Harlot of Babylon is
stripped stark-naked, and the cardinals are given over to Sir
Harcourt Lees. At length the visiou becomes ¦ too radiant
for endurance. A third heaven opens upon him, and he sinks
exhausted by hia enjoyments, and perspiring with ecstasy,
amid the transports of auditors to whom he imparts a rapture
alraost equal to his own.
Let me conduct the reader from Kildare street to the Court
10»

226 THOMAS LEFROY.
of Chancery. Here an utter transformation takes place in the
person of the learned Sergeant, which almost brings his iden
tity into doubt. Instead of eyes alternately veiled in the
humility of their long and downcast lashes, or lifted up in
visionary devotion, you behold them fixed upon the Chan
cellor, and watching with a subtle intensity all the shiftings
of expression with which the judicial countenance intimates
its approval or dissent. The whole face of the vigilant and
wily pleader is overspread with craft. There is a lurking of
design in every feature of his sharp and elongated visage.
You will not perceive any nice play of the muscles, or shad-
owings of sentiment in his physiognomy ; it is fixed, hard,
and imperturbable. His deportment* is in keeping with his
countenance. He scarcely ever stands perfectly erect, and
there is nothing upright or open in his bearing. His shoulders
are contracted, and drawn in ; and the body is bent, while the
neck is protruded. No rapidity of gesture, or suddenness of
moven.eut, indicates the unanticipated startings-up of thought.
The arm is never braced iu the strenuous confidence of vigor
ous enforcement, with whicli Plunket hurls the truth at the
Bench ; but the long and taper fingei-s just tip the green table
on which tliej' are laid with a peculiar lightness. In this atti
tude, in which he looks a sophism personified, he applies his
talents and erudition to the sustainmeut of the most question
able case, with as much alacrity as if weeping Innocence and
virtuous Misfortune clung to him for support.
The doubtful merits of his client seem to give a new stim
ulus to his abilities; and if some obsolete form can be raised
from oblivion, if some preposterous precedent can be found in
the mass of antiquated decisions under which all reason and
justice are entombed ; or if some petty flaw can be found in
the pleadings of his adversary, which is sure to be detected
by his minute and microscopic eye, wo to the widow and the
orphan ! The Chancellor [Manners] is called upon to decide
in conformity with some old monastic doctrine. The pious
Sergeant presses him upon every side. He surrounds him
with a horde of barbarous authorities ; and giving no quarter
to common sense, and having beaten equity down, and laid

AS AN ADVOCATE. 227
simple honesty prostrate, he sets up the factious demurrer and
the malicious plea in trophy upon their ruins. Every expe
dient is called into aid : facts are perverted, precedents are
tortured, positions unheard before are laid down as sacred
canons ; and, in order to effect the utter wreck of the opposite
party, deceitful lights are held up as the great beacons of
legal truth. In short, one who had previou.sly seen the
learned Sergeant for the first time in a Bible Society, would
hardly believe him to be the same, but would almost be in
clined to suspect that it was the genius of Chicane, which had
invested itself with an angelic aspect, and, for the purpose of
more effectually accomplishing its pernicious ends, had as
sumed the celestial guise of Mr. Sergeant Lefroy.
Let me not be considered as casting an imputation upon this
able, and, I believe, amiable man. In the exhibition of so
much professional dexterity and zeal, he does no more than
what every advocate will regard as his duty. I am only
indulging in some surprise at the promptness and facility of
his transition from the religious to the forensic mood ; and at
the success with which he divests himself of that moral squeam
ishness, which one would suppose to be incidental to his intel
lectual habits. Looking at him as. an advocate, he deserves
great encomium. In industry he is not surpassed by any mem
ber of his profession.
It was his good fortune that, soon after he had been called
to the bar, Lord Eedesdale should have been Lord Chancellor.*
* Lord Redesdale, bom in August, 1748, was an excellent Chancellor — clear
minded, straight-forward, learned, and patient. His' name was John Freeman
, Mitford, and he was English by birth. He was educated at Oxford, studied
the law, and became an eminent chancery pleader, after he was called to the
bnr. He wrote a book on Chancery Pleadings, which went through several
editions. In 1790, he was made a Welsh judge (an office now abolished) and
was knighted in 1793, when he was appointed SoUcitor-General. He had to
appear against Mr. Hardy, ti-ied on a charge of high treason, and his opening
speech was distinguished by moderation, good taste, and acuteness. In 1799.
he succeeded Scott (Lord Eldon) as Attorney-General. He had been in Par
liament since 1785, and, in 1801, was elected Speaker, the first and highest of
fice a Commoner can hold in England. In 1802, on being appointed Lord
Chancellor of Ireland, he was raised to the peerage, as Lord Redesdale; When
Grenville and Fox formed their Coalition Ministi-y, in 1806, he was compelled to

228

THiiMAS LEFROY.

That great lawj-er introduced a reformation in Irish practice.
He substituted great learning, unwearied diligence, and a
spirit of scientific discussion, for the flippant apothegms and
irritable self-sufficiency of the late Lord Clare. He enter
tained an honorable passion for the study, as well as for the
profits of his profession ; and, not satisfied with pronouncing
judgments which adjusted the rights of the immediate parties,
he disclosed the foundations of his decisions, and, opening the
deep ground-work of equity, revealed the principles upon which
the whole edifice is established.
The value of these essays delivered from the Bench waa
well appreciated by Mr. Lefroy, who, in conjunction with Mr.
Schoales, engaged in the reports which bear their names, and
which are justly beld in so much esteem. Soon after their
publication, Mr. Lefroy rose into business, for which he was in
every way qualified. He was much favored by Lord Eedes
dale, and now enjoys the warm friendship of Lord Manners
[1823], for whom he acts as confidential counsel.* His great
familiarity with cases, and a spirit of peculiar deference to his
Lordship, combined with eminent capacity, have secured for
him a large portion of the judicial partialities. He is in
the fullest practice, and', taking his private and professional
income into account, may be well regarded as'the wealthiest
resign, for, on taking leave of the bar, he said that " he had hoped to have ended
his days in Ireland, but was not permitted. His consent to depart from Eng
land was yielded at the wish of some who now concurred in his removal : this
he owned, he did not expect." On his return to England, he strongly opposed
the ministry, particularly on Lord Grenville's motion for Catliolic Emancipa
tion. His future political course was auti-liberal. In Committees of Appeal,
in the Lords, his opinion hud great wriLjlit. He originated the humane meas
ure for the relief of insolvent debtors. His deritb took place, on the 16th Jan
uary, 1830. His only son, the present Lord Redesdale, is Chairman of Com
mittees in the House of Lords, with a salarv of four thousand pounds sterling
a year, and also Deputy-Speaker of that house. His previous qualifications
appear to have been — that he kept a pack of hounds .' — M.
* In England and Ireland it is not uncommon for a Judge to employ a-bar-
ristcr in whom he has confidence, to assist him in looking np the law in diffi
cult cases. The person employed is called the Judge's " Devil.'' The law
officers of the Crown have like assistance, and the barristers who work for them
reap a rich harvest, by being usually employed as junior counsel in the cases
In which their superiors receive retainers and hold briefs,=^Mi

AGRARIAN INSUERKCTION. 229
man at the Irish bar. His great fortune, however, has not had
the effect of impairing in him the spirit of acquisition. He
exhibits, indeed, as acute a perception of pecuniary excitement
as any of his less devout brethren of the coif.
Sergeant Lefroy will, in all likelihood, be shortly raised to
the Bench.'* He has already officiated upon one occasion as
a judge of assize, in consequence of the illness of some of the
regular judges, and gone the Munster circuit. His opinions
and demeanor in this capacity are not undeserving of men
tion : 'they have attracted much attention in Ireland, and in
England have not escaped observation. Armed with the
king's commission, he arrived in Limerick in the midst of those
dreadful scenes, to which no country in Europe affords a
parallel.t All the mounds of civil institutions appeared to
have been carried away by the dark and overwhelming tide,
which was running with a tremendous current, and swelling
every day into a more portentous magnitude. Social order
seemed to be at an end. A wild and furious population, barba
rized by a heartless and almost equally savage gentry, had
burst through the bonds by which its madness had been
hitherto restrained, and rushed into an insurrection, in which
the animosities of a civil were blended with the ferocity of a
servile war. Eevenge and hunger employed their united
excitations in working up this formidable insanity. Eeckless
of the loss of an existence which afforded them no enjoyment,
the infuriated victims of the landlord and the tithe-proctor
extended to the lives of others the same estimate which they
set upon their own ; and their appreciation of the value of
human breath- was illustrated in the daily assassinations, which
were devised with the guile, and perpetrated with the fury, of
an Indian tribe. The whole country smoked with the traces
of devastation — blood was shed at noon upon the public way
— and crimes even more dreadful than murder made every
parent tremble.
• He is now [1854], Chief-Justice of the Queen's Bench, having been ap
pointed in 1852, when Mr. Blackburne was made Chancellor. — M.
+ The agraiian disturbances of 1821, chiefly arising out of the demands on
the Catholics for tithes, to support the rich Protestant Church. — M.

230 THOJLA.S LEFROY.
Such was the situation of the county of Limerick, when the
learned Sergeant arrived to administer a remedy for these
frightful evils. The calendar presented almost all the possi
ble varieties which guilt could assume, and might be desig
nated as a hideous miscellany of crime. The court-house
exhibited an appalling spectacle. A deep and awful silence
hung heavily upon it, and the consciousness that lay upon
every man's heart, of the frightful crisis to which the county
seemed rapidly advancing, bound up the very breath of the
assembly in a fearful hush. The wretched men in the dock
stood before the judicial novice in a heedless certainty of their
fate. A desperate independence of their destiny seemed to
dilate their broad and expanded chests, and their powerful
faces gave a gloomy token of their sullen indifference to_ death.
Their confederates in guilt stoo/l around them with much
stronger intimations of anxiety in their looks, and, as they
eyed their fellow-conspirators in the dock, seemed to mutter a
vow of vengeance for every hair that should be touched upon
their heads. The gentry of the county stood iu the galleries
with a kind of confession in their aspect, that they had them
selves been participant in the production of the crimes which
they were collected to punish, but which they knew that they
could not repress.
In this assembly, so silent that the unsheathing of a stiletto
might have been heard amidst its hush, the learned Sergeant
rose, and called for the piece of parchment in which an indict
ment had been written. It was dulj' presented to him by the
clerk of the crown. Lifting up the legal scroll, he paused for
a moment, and said : " Behold ! in this parchment writing, the
causes of all the misery with which the Lord has afflicted this
unhappy island are expressed. Here is the whole mystery
of guilt manifestly revealed. All, all is intimated in the in
dictment. Unhappy men, you have not the fear of God be
fore your eyes, and you are moved by the instigations of the
Devil." This address went beyond all expectation — the
wretches in the dock gazed upon their sacred monitor with a
scowling stare — the Bar tipped each other the wink — the
parsons thought that this was a palpable interference with my

CAPTAIN EOCK. 231
lord the bishop — the O'Gradys thrust their tongues into their
cheeks, and O'Connell cried out, "Leather!"
I have no room to transcribe the rest of this remarkable
charge. It corresponded with the specimen already given,
and verified the reference to the fabulist. So, indeed, does
every charge delivered from the Irish Bench. Each man in
dulges in his peculiar propensities. Shed blood enough, cries
old Eenault.* Be just, be humane, be merciful, says Bushe.
While the learned Sergeant charges a confederacy between
Beelzebub and Captain Eock, imputes the atrocities of the
South to an immediate diabolical interposition, and lays at the
Devil's door all the calamities of Ireland.
* This mild-tempered gentleman may be remembered as one of the charac
ters in Otway's very tragic tragedy of " Venice Preserved." — M.

THOMAS GOOLD.
The French Eevolution had scarcely burst upon the world,
and its portentous incidents were still the daily subject of
universal astonishment or dismay, when there arose in the
metropolis of Ireland a young gentleman, who, feeling jealous
of the unrivalled importance which the Continental phenome
non was enjoying, resolved to start in his own person as an op
position-wonder. He had some of the qualifications and all the
ambitious self-dependence befitting so arduous a project. Na
ture and fortune had been extremely kind to him. He was
of a respectable and wealthy family. His face was handsome;
his person small, but symmetrical and elastic, and peculiarly
adapted to the performance of certain bodily feats which be
subsequently achieved.
As to his general endowments, he was, upon his own show
ing, s, fac-simile of the admirable Crichton. He announced
himself as an adept in every known department of human
learning, from the prophetic revelations of judicial astrology,
and the more obsolete mysteries of magic lore, up to the light
est productions of the amatory muse of France. He professed
to speak every language (except the Irish) as fluently and
correctly as if he had been a native born. He played, sung,
danced, fenced, and rode, with more skill and spirit than the
masters of those respective arts who had presumed to teach
him. He had a deep sense of the value of so many combined
perfections, and acted under the persuasion that he was called
upon to amaze the world.
His friends, who had perceived that beneath his incompre
hensible aspirations there lurked the elements of% clever man.

SOWING HIS WILD OATS. 233
recommended the Bar as a profession in which, with indus
try, and his <£10,000, for he inherited about as much, and a
rising religion, for he was a Protestant, he might fairly hope
to gratify their ambition, if not his own. He assented ; and
submitted to pass through the preliminary forms — rather,
however, under the idea, that at some future period it might
suit his views to accept the chancellorship of Ireland, than
with any immediate intention of squandering his youthful en
ergies upon so inglorious a vocation. He felt that he was des
tined for higher things, aud proceeded to assert his claims.
He never appeared abroad but in a costly suit of the most per
suasive cut, and glowing with bi'ight and various tints. He
set up an imposing phaeton, in which with Kitty Cut-a-dash,
of fascinating memory, and then the reigning illegitimate belle
of Dublin, by his side, he scoured through streets and squares
with the brilliancy and rapidity of an optical illusion. He en
tertained his friends, the choicest spirits about town, with din
ners, such as bachelor never gave before — dishes so satisfy
ing and scientific, as to fill not only the stomach, but the mind
— claret, such as few even of the Irish bishops could procure,
and champaigne of vivacity exampled only by his own. He
furnished his stable with a stud of racers; and, if I am rightly ,
informed, he still, half-laughing, half-wondering at his former
self, recalls the times when mounted upon a favorite thorough
bred, and flaming in a pink-satin jockey-dress, he distanced
every competitor, and bore away tbe Curragh cup.*
I have spoken of his dancing. Tradition asserts that it was
not confined to ball-rooms. I am told that at the private theatre
in Fishamble-street, a place in those days of much fashion
able resort, he was known to slide in between the acts, in the
costume of a Savoy peasant, and throw oS a, pas seul in a style
of original dexterity and grace, which, to use an Irish descrip
tive phrase, " elicited explosions of applause from the men, and
ecstatic ebullitions of admiration from the ladies." He was
equally remarkable for his excellence in the other manly ex-
* The principal races in Ireland fake place upon the Curragh of Kildare —
at once an equivalent for Doncaster and Newmarket, Epsom and Ascot, with
Goodwood and — the rest. — M.

234 THOMAS GOOLD.
ercises. He thought nothing of vaulting over four horses
standing abreast. He was paramount at foot-ball ; and aston
ished and won wagers from the Bishop of Derry himself (the
noted Lord Bristol),* who was supposed to be the keenest judge
in Ireland of what the toe of man could achieve.
Before assuming the forensic robe, our aspirant for renown
set out upon a Continental tour ; and according to his subse
quent report, although he travelled in strict incognito, gathered
fresh gloiy at every post-town through which he was whirled
along. After a considerable stay at Paris, where, however,
he arrived too late to stop the revolutionary .torrent, he
passed on and visited several of the German eourts — gave
" travelling opinions" upon tbe course of policy to be respec
tively pursued by them at that critical juncture, and after
ward satisfied himself that the most important events that
followed were mainly influenced by his timely interposition.
He left Germany with some precipitation. The rumor ran
that there were state-reasons for his departure. The subject
was too delicate to be revealed in all its circumstances, but
upon his return to Ireland his friends heard in broken senten
ces of a certain Palatine princess — the dogged jealousy of
* The Earl of Bristol, who was also Bishop of Derry (the income of which
was twenty thousand pounds stt^rling a year-, at that time), was a very strange
character. Hewas born in 1730, and died in 1803 — having spent the last
years of his life in Italy, quite unmindful of his episcopal duties to his diocese
— but sacredly receiving its immense revenue. He bitterly opposed the
Union, and went down to the House of Lords, in a coach drawn by-eight
horses, to vote against it. He v/as son of the Lord Hervey (Keeper of the
Privy Seal, in 1740), to whom, thinking highly of his intellect and leaming,
Bishop Middleton dedicated his " Histoi7 of the Life of Cicero," while on the
other hand, he comes down to us, as the Sporus of Pope's severe Satire, in
which his character is thus limned: —
" Eternal smiles his emptiness betray.
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way ;
Whether in florid impotence he speaks.
And, as the Prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks.
Eve's tempter, thus the Rabbins have cxprest —
A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest.
Beauty that shocks you, parts that none can trust.
Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust."
In June, 1826, the Earldom of Bristol was raised into a Marquisate. — M.

BROUGHT TO A CHECK. 235
royal husbands — the incorrigible babbling of maids of honor
— muttered threats of incarceration — and a confidential re
monstrance on the part of a very sensible man, a member of
the Aulic council, respecting the confusion that might here
after ensue, should it come to be suspected that the stream of
reputed legitimacy had been reinforced by a tributary rill of
Munster blood.
Upon his reappearance in Ireland, our prodigy, exulting in
the fame of his Continental exploits, was about to commence
a new course of wonders in his native land, when an unfore
seen occurrence in the form a dishonored check upon his
banker came to

 "repress his noble rage
And freeze the genial current of his soul."
He discovered that he was a ruined man. The patrimonial
ten thousand pounds which had given an eclat to all he did,
had vanished. The road to glory still lay before him, but he
was without a guinea in his pocket to pay the travelling ex
penses. In this emergency there were three courses open to him —
to cui his throat — to sell his soul to the Protestant ascendency
— or to be honest and industrious, and ply at his profession.
He chose the last — and (the most wondrous thing in his won
derful career) it came to pass, that notwithstanding the many
apparent disqualifications under which he started, he rose, and
not slowly, to an eminence which no one but himself would
have ventured to predict. He is now " quantum mutatus ab
Ulo," a very able and distinguished person at the Irish Bar,
Mr. Sergeant Goold.
If I have ushered in my notice of this gentleman with an
allusion to the freaks of his youth, of which, after all, I may
have received an exaggerated account, it is because I consider
it to be infinitely to his praise that he should have so manfully
surmounted his early pretensions and disappointments, as the
progress of his professional history has evinced. The study
of " four-day rules," and " notices to quit," demands no extra
ordinary reach of intellect ; but the transition from the airy

236 TH01L4.9 GOOLD.
speculations of a sanguine and ambitious disposition to these
unimaginative details is one the most abrupt and mortify
ing that ever tried the elasticity and patience of the mental
powers. Mr. Goold, notwithstanding the friskiness and levity of his
external deportment, had the inward energy to face and sur-
moimt the repelling task. He plunged with a hardy and
exploring spirit into the wilderness of law — burst through its
perplexities, drank freely, and made no wry faces, from its
bitter springs; and by a perseverance in patient and solitary
labor, entitled himself to more substantial returns than that
applause which he had once prized above every earthly com
pensation. Some time after Mr. Goold had formed this meritorious reso
lution, an incident befell him, of which it is difficult to say
whether it was most calculated to quicken or to damp his new
born ardor for laborious occupation. When Burke's celebrated
" Eeflections on the French Eevolution" appeared, the author
and the book, as all my readers know, were vigorously assailed.
Mr. Goold, considering the subject not unworthy of his powers,
had thrown himself into the controversy. He was at the time
in a frame of mind befitting a sturdy partisan. He had re
cently returned from Paris, where, during a residence of some
time, he had been an eyewitness of the disgusting clamor and
excesses of the period. He was also still smarting from the
recollection of certain rude accolades that had been forcibly
imposed upon himself by sundry haggard Naiads of the Halle
— a perversion of the authentic rights of men and of women,
against which, when he came to record the fact, he did not fail
to protest with genuine antigallic indignation. His pamphlet
was entitled, characteristically enough, a " Defence of Mr.
Burke's work ' against all his opponents.' " The number that
had already declared themselves in print amounted to ten-
two anonymous ladies, and eight gentlemen — among whora
were Doctors Towers, Price, and Priestley.*
* Eminent dissenters, ultra-liberal in politics. Dr. John Towers, was a Dnita-
rian preacher, and wrote several biographical and political works. He died
in 1799, aged sixty-two.— Dr. Richard Price, celebrated for his ability in aiith-

DEFENCE OE BURKE. 237
The defender of Burke took each of them in detail. The
gentlewomen he despatched with a good deal of gallant for
bearance ; but for the doctors and their male auxiliaries he
had no mercy. He belabored them with unsparing logic and
more relentless rhetoric, until every sign of sense and argu
ment was beaten out of them, and proclaimed his victory by a
final flourish of trumpets to the renown of Burke. " I never,
says he, saw Mr. Burke but once. I saw him from the gallery
of the House of Commons. I know no man that knows him.
I probably shall know no man that knows him. In a few
weeks I leave this country, perhaps never to return. I expect
but' little from any man. I shall never ask any thing. In
whatever country I may live, in whatever situation I may be
placed, I shall look down on grandeur, I shall look up to
greatness. Nor wealth, nor rank, nor power, nor influence,
shall bend my stubborn neck. I am prostrate before talents ;
I am prostrate before worth ; my admiration of Mr. Burke
amounts almost to enthusiasm," &c.
This was pretty strong incense, and there was more of the
same kind ; but I am quite certain that it wag offered without
the remotest expectation of any return in either praise or
profit ; and as to the writer's professions of independence,
though very hazardous in so young an Irishman, they have
been amply justified by his subsequent life. The pamphlet,
metical calculations, was consulted by William Pitt, as to the best mode of
paying off the national debt, and suggested the Sinking Fund, which Alison
thinks would have affected its purpose, if strictly adhered to and persevered
in. When the French revolution broke out. Dr. Price, who had charge of an
Arian congregation, near London, preached a sermon " On the Love of Coun
try," in which he hailed the French revolution as the commencement of
a glorious era. Burke, in his celebrated Reflections on that event, severely
animadverted on Price and his opinions. Dr. Price died in 1791, aged sixty-
eight. — Dr. Joseph Priestley, a dissenting minister, well known as a political
writer and experimental philosopher, also was an ardent admirer of the French
revolution, and a mob at Birmingham, where he resided, burned his house,
library, manuscripts, and scientific apparatus and instruments, his Hfe being in
imminent danger also. He retired to the United States in 1794, and died at
Northumberland, in Pennsylvania, in 1804, aged seventy-one. His published
works extend to nearly eighty volumes. — M.

238 THOMAS GOOLD.
however, taken altogether, attracted the notice and excited
the gratitude of Burke.*
The fact is rather curious, as illustrating the predicament of'
* By the common consent of competent Judges, of all shades of politics,
Burke was one of the greatest men at a period in British histoiy, when emi^
nence was less frequent than at present. Dr. Johnson, who knew him well,
eaid, " Edmund Burke in discourse, calls forth all the powers of my mind ; were
I to argue with him on my present state, it would be the death of me." Some
body asked him whether he did not think that Burke resembled Cicero, and
Johnson answered, " No, sir: Cicero resembles Burke." At another lime he'
said that no person of sense ever met Burke under a gateway to avoid a show
er, who did not go away convinced that he was the first man in England. —
Fox, after their quarrel, publicly confessed that all he had ever read in books,
all that his fancy had imagined, all that his reasoning faculties had suggested,
or his experience had taught him, fell far short of the exalted knowledge which
he had acquired from Burke. — Grattan, when studying law in London, often
heard Burke speak (in 1772, ere he had reached middle life), and said he was
ingenious, oratorical, undaunted ; boundless in knowledge, instantaneous in hig
apprehensions, abundant in his language, speaking with profound attention
and acknowledged superiority. — Pitt characterized his remarks as the over
flowing of a mind, the richness of whose wit was unchecked for the time by
its wisdom. — Cazales declared that Burke possessed the sublimest talents, the
greatest and rarest.virtues, that ever were enshrined in a single character. —
Gerard Hamilton, when at variance with him, protested that he understood
eveiything except gaming -and music. — Windham said that it was not among
the least calamities of the times that the world had lost him. — Crabbe speaks
of the vastness of his attainments and the immensity of his varied powers. —
Lord Thurlow stated that Burke would be remembered with admiration when
Pitt and Fox would be comparatively forgotten. — Goldsmith, speaking of John
son, asked "Does he wind into a subject as Burke dors?" — Learning, said
another admirer, waits upon him, like a handmaid, presenting to his choice all
that antiquity had called or invented. — As a public speaker, he was bold and
forcible, his delivery easy and unemban-assed. He spoke with a sti-ong Irish
accent, but his manner was inelegant. He was an orator, but not a debater.
He crowded his speeches with metaphors, oi-naments, and classical aUusions,
until the subject-matter was hidden beneath the illustrations. His eloquence
was too rich for the bulk of his auditors, consisting of plain conntiy-gentlemen
— who sneered at what they did not understand. In a -K-iird, he astonished
rather than convinced. His published must not be taken as his spoken speech
es—for when they came to be printed he rewrote and con-ected them so mubh
that the compositors usually found it easier to distribute the type and reset the
whole matter than to attempt to alter it on the stone or in the galley ! Lat
terly, his parliamentary speeches did not at all strike his hearers — except for
their prolixity— they were spoken essays, and when he rose to deliver one of
them, two thirds of the members would retire to taks refreshments at Bellamy's.

EDMUND BUEKF. 239
feeling in wlich that eminent person's new theories and new
connections had involved him. He had just quarrelled with
his old political associates for adhering to the spirit of the
Hence he was called The Dinner Bell. Goldsmith, who knew and loved
him, deBcribed him as one
" Who, bora for the universe, narrowed his mind,
And to party gave up wbat was meant for mankind :
Who, too deep for his hearejs, still went on refining-,
And thought of convincing when they thought of dining.''
General Fitzpatrick, speaking of Burke, said, "Ask any well-informed public
character, who is the best-informed man in Parliament, and the answer will
certainly be, Burke ; inquire who is the most eloquent or the most witty, and
the reply will be, Burke ; then ask who is the most tiresome, and the response
atill will be, Burke — most certainly, Burke." Bom in Ireland, on the first
day of 1730, Burke went to England, at the age of twenty-three, to study law.
His family chiefly supported him in London, and he also earned money by his
pen. His ** Vindication of Natural Society," and his " Treatise on the Sub
lime and Beautiful," published in 1756, introduced him into literary society.
Nine years after, he became private secretary to the Premier (the Ma-rquis of
Eockingham), who brought him into Parliament. Then commenced that long
and brilliant career which is part of JEnglish history. His first effort, as a pol
itician, was in favor of the American colonies, and, for several years, he op
posed the obnoxious measures of the Government. He joined Fox in opposing
Lord North*s administration, which they broke up — Burke taking office under
the new Ministry, retiring on the sudden death of Lord Eockingham, and re
turning xmder the Coalition of Fox and North. At the age of five-and-twenty,
Pitt became Premier, and thenceforth Burke was exiled from office. Thi3
was in 1783, and Burke continued a mere opposition-member until 1786, when
lie became principal on the impeachment of Warren Hastings. During the
insanity of George HI. in 1788, Burke joined Fox in asserting the claims of
tbe Prince of Wales to " regency without restrictions. In 1789, when the
French Eevolution broke out, and his friends hailed it as the dawn of freedom
for the nations, Burke threw himself headlong into violent opposition, renounced
all connection with Fox, published his " Eeflections on the French Eevolution,"
which the European despots had translated into many languages, while George
ni. presented copies of it to his particular friends, as " a book which every
gentleman ought to study." The work was so elaborated that no fewer than
ten or twelve proofs were destroyed before he could please his own fastidious
taste. He continued possessed with an anti-Gallic an feeling during the remain
ing few years of his life. In 1795, he obtained a State-pension of twelve hun
dred pounds sterling a year, afterward raised to three thousand seven hundred
pounds sterling, with the remainder to his widow, who survived him very many
years. It is impossible to say whether an understanding thdt he was to be so
rewarded made Burke write down (as far as he could) the principles of lib
erty which he had avowed and defended for thirty years, but Sir Philip Francis

240 THOMAS GOOLD.
principles he himself had taught them. Still professing the
tenets of " an exalted freedom," he was pouring forth curses
and" derision upon one of the most provoked and necessary acts
of freedom which the world had ever witnessed. ; and such is
the sophistry with which a favorite passion can practise upon
the strongest intellect, he would fain persuade himself that he
was consistent to the last, and that doctrines which were hailed
with joy in every despotic coterie of Europe, were the only
genuine and unadulterated maxims of a British Whig.
But though bold even to overbearing in his public assertions
of his personal consistency, it is not unreasonable to surmise
that, in his private hours, his heart was ill at ease. He must
have felt that his fame, if not his conscience, was in want of
external support. Certain, however, it is, that he grasped at
the voluntary offer with something like the sign of a sinking
spirit. The tributes of ardent admiration and respect so pro
fusely scattered through his young countryman's pamphlet
touched the veteran's feelings, and lived in his memorj' upon
the first occasion that offered of marking his sense of the obli
gation. The opportunity seemed to present itself upon the appoint
ment of Lord Fitzwilliam* in 1795 to the government of Ire-
(the reputed author of "The Letters of Junius") used to say that ifthe friends
of peace and liberty had subscribed thirty thousand pounds sterling to relieve
Burke's pecuniary embarrassments, there would have been no war against the
French Revolution. Burke's writings vindicated Pitt's policy of war with
France, to restore " legitimacy,'' and this war added six himdred thousand
pounds sterling to the National Debt of England! Burke died on July 8,
1797, aged sixty-seven. — M.
* The Earl Fitzwilliam, nephew of the Marquis of Rockingham (who v/as
Prime Minister in 176.5-'6, and again in 1782), entered the House of Commons
early, and steadily adhered to the principles of Fox, until the French revolu
tion, when he seceded, as Burke did, and consequently pleased Pitt, who ad
mitted him into the Cabinet in 1794, and sent him as Viceroy to Ireland, in
the following year. He was too liberal for the oiHce and was soon recalled.
But he supported Pitt's wnr with France. In 1798-'9, he was appointed Lord
Lieutenant of the West Riding of Yorkshire, but was dismissed, in 1819, be
cause he had attended a public meeting held to petition for an inquiry into
the conduct of the Manchester magistrates at what is called "The Peterloo
Massacre." He had previously formed one of " All the Talents" ministry, in
1806. His deatli took place in 1833, in his seventy-fifth year. — M.

bueke's geatitcde. 241
land. One evening Mr. Goold was sitting alone in his lodging,
and indulging (if it can be called an indulgence) in those
depressing reflections upon his future prospects with -which the
stoutest-hearted junior barrister is occasionally visited, when
an English letter was put into his hand. It was from Edmund
Burke. It imported that "he had not forgotten Mr. G.'s ad
mirable pamphlet, and that he was most desirous to advance,
as far as it in his power lay, the author's fortunes. An occa
sion appeared to offer. The new viceroy of Ireland was com
ing, preparatoiy to his departure for that country, to pass some
days at Beaconsfield ; and if the demolisher of the ten oppo
nents could contrive, without loss of time, to cross the Channel,
and meet his lordship at Mr. Burke's, the happiest results
might be anticipated." None but those who know the brisk
ness of Mr. Goold's temperature, even at the present day, can
well conceive the delicious perturbation of spirit that must
have ensued. The lustre of the invitation itself — the ex
pected glory of being present at conferences where the ap
proaching redress of Irish wrongs was to be freely canvassed
— the elevating prospect of being himself officially selected to
contribute the aid of his attainments to the labors of a patriotic
administration — these and many other bright concomitants had
just arranged themselves into a picture almost too dazzling for
mortal eye, when one miserable reality intervened like an
angry cloud, and the gorgeous imagery faded away into mel
ancholy dimness.
He was under a financial incapacity of complying with the
generous proposal of Mr. Burke. He was pondering over this
mortifying obstacle, when one of his fiiends, the late Sir
- Charles Ormsby, entered the room.
"Was there ever such an unlucky fellow?" said he, handing
the letter to Sir Charles. " See there, what an opportunity
of making my fortune presents itself; and yet, for want of
about a hundred pounds to go over and make a proper appear
ance at Beaconsfield, I must let it slip."
Sir Charles was not in those days as rich as he subsequently
became, but his father was a wealthy and good-natured man.
Vol. I. — 11

242 THOIMAS GOOLD.
"Go to my father," said he — "show him the letter, state
your situation, and I undertake to say that he'll accommodate
you." The fexperiment succeeded. Mr. Goold flew to Beaconsfield ;
was too late to catch the Viceroy, who had already set out for
Ireland; passed pome days with Burke ; reposted to Dublin,
the bearer of a powerful introduction to the favor of Lord Fitz
william ; was gracio'usly received, and would in all likelihood
have been included in the 'political arrangements then in prog
ress : but the Beresfords were at work on the other side of the
water;* their fatal counsels prevailed; the piatriotic Viceroy
was recalled; the doom of Ireland was sealed, and the subject
of the present sketch reconsigned to tbe hard destiny of a legal
drudge. Fortunately, however, and honorably for himself, his
spirit was too buoyant to sink beneath the disappointment.
He betook himself with unabated ardor to his former pursuits.
His professional acquirements and efficiency became known ;
clients poured in upon him ; in a few years he was invested
with a silk-go^wn ; and had not his political integrity interfered,
he would, if current report be true, have before this been seated
on the bench.
Sergeant Goold's practice has been and still is principally
in the nisi-prius Courts. I have not much to say of his dis
tinctive qualities as a lawyer. He is evidently quite at home
in all the points that come into daily question, and he puts
them forward boldly and promptly. Here, indeed, as else
where, he affects a little too much of omniscience ; but un
questionable it is that he knows a great deal. There is not, I
apprehend, a single member of his profession less liable to be
taken by surprise upon any unexpected point of evidence, or
practice, or pleading, the three great departments of our law
to which his attention has been chiefly directed. But there is
no want of originality in his appearance and manner. His
person is below the middle size, and, notwithstanding the wear
* The Beresfords, members of the Marquis of Waterford's family, took an
active an'd intolerant part in governing Ireland for forty years before the Union.
The cruelties of John Claudius Beresford, during the revolt of 1798, were no
torious, enormous, and wanton — almost beyond credibility.  M.

HIS TANITT. 243
and tear of sixty years, continues compact, elastic, and airy.*
His face, though he sometimes gives a desponding hint that it
is not what it was, still attests the credibility of his German
adventures. The features are small and regular, and keen
without being angular. His manner is all his own. His quick
blue eye is in perpetual motion. It does not look upon an
object; it pounces upon it. So of the other external signs of
character. His body, like his mind, moves at double-quick
* Charles Phillips describes Goold and Grady as the established 'and recog
nised gladiators " of the Irish Court of Common Pleas, over which presided the
punning Lord Norbury," with the glow of Bacchus and the cheeks of ..Eolus —
his Lordship, it should be noted, always puffed, like an asthmatic locomotive,
before uttering a joke. " Goold was a little man, well formed, and of consid
erable accomplishments. Sensitive and fastidious, he acknowledged but one
earthly model of perfection, which, however, he viewed with Eastern idolatiy,
and that was — himself! With the versatility of a Crichton and the politeness
of a Chesterfield, all airs and graces, master of everj'thing, and neglecting noth
ing, he was " himself alone" unapproached and inimitable, judice Tom. He
not only argued, declaimed and philosophized, better than any one else, but
he sang, he danced, he rode, he even brushed his hair so as to set rivalry at
defiance. Guileless and harmless vanity ! counterpoised by a thousand sterling
qualities. He was an excellent Nisi-Prius fencer, and even rose at times to a
high order of eloquence. Had Goold been contented with the world's estimate
of him as he really was, all would have admitted him to be an eminent man.
But he shai-pened censure and excited ridicule by aspiring to be what no man
ever was — in every art, trade, science, profession, accomplishment, and pursuit
under the sun, a ne plus ultra. The pitch to which he carried this foible was in
credible. Expatiating one day on the risk he ran from a sudden rise of the
tide when riding on the North Strand, near Dublin, he assured his hearer, that
" had he not been the very best horseman in existence, he must have been
drovvTied ; in short never was human being in such danger." His friend re
plied, " My dear Tom, there was one undoubtedly in still greater, for a poor
man was drowned there this morning." " By heaven ! sir," bellowed Goold,
" I might have been drowned if / chose." There is a portrait of Goold in Bar
rington's Secret Memoirs of the Union (taken about the year 1810), which
shows him with handsome and well-cut features, and p very intellectual ex
pression. My own recollection of Goold dates as far back as 1827, when he
went the Munster Circuit. I saw him at the Cork assizes. He was then a
whitehaired man, small in person, neat in attire, with that certain elegance of
manner rarely acquired without familiar mingling in good society, a clear com
plexion, and very keen eyes. His voice was feeble, and his energy appeared
extinct. He was then one of the King's Sergeants, which gave him prece
dence at the bar, and the lead in all the Crovm cases. His income continued,
therefore, long after his actual ability to earn it had declined and faded. — M.

244 THOMAS GOOLD.
time. He darts into court to argue a question of costs with the
precipitation of a man rushing to save a beloved child from the
flames. This is not trick in him, for among the collateral arts
of attracting notice at the Irish bar is that of scouring with
breathless speed from court to court, upsetting attorneys' clerks,
making panting apologies, with similar manifestations of the
counsel's inability to keep pace with the importunate calls of
his multitudinous clients.
Sergeant Goold stands too high, and is, I am certain, too
proud to think of resorting to these locomotive devices. His
impetuosity is pure temperament. In the despatch of business,
more especially in the chorus-scenes, where half-a-dozen learned
throats are at once clamoring for precedence, he acquits him
self with a physical energy that puts him almost upon a par
in this respect with that great " lord of misrule" O'Connell
himself. He is to the full as restless, confident, and vociferative, but
he is not equally indomitable ; and I have some doubts whether
with all his bustle and vehemence, he ever ascends to the true
sublime of tumult which inspires his learned and unemanci-
pated friend. The latter, mIio is in himself an ambulatory
riot, dashes into a legal affray with the spirit of a bludgeoned
hero of a fair, determined to knock down every friend or foe
he meets, " for the honor of old Ireland." He has the secret
glory too of displaying his athletic capabilities before an audi
ence, by many of whom he knows that he is feared and hated.
Sergeant Goold, who has not the same personal incentive, is
more measured and courtly in his upronr, and will often, long
before his lungs are spent, as if his dignity had taken a sudden
fright, declare off abruptly, and invoke the talismanic interces
sion of the Bench.
Let not the unlearned reader imagine that I am affecting a
tone of idle levity. These forensic rants are of daily recur
rence; and to have nerves to withstand them is a matter of no
little moment to barristers and clients. It is within the sanc
tuaries 'of justice that much of tbe rough work of human con
cerns is transacted ; and the subjects, to be handled well, must
be roughly handled. The knave must be vehemently ar-

HIS FOEENSIO OEATOEY. 246
raigned ; the injured clamorously vindicated ; the factious and
dishonest witness tortured and stunned until his soul surrenders
the hidden truth. The man who can do this is of value in his
calling; but should his taste recoil from the rude collision, he
may still attain to legal distinction by other and less rugged
paths — but as he values his interest and fame, let him resign
all hope of making a figure in a nisi-jyrius Court.
Sergeant Goold passes in the Irish Courts for an eloquent
advocate. In one sense of the word he is so ; for though, far
from being a pleasant speaker, and having manifold defects of
delivery and action, he still contrives to make a very strong
impression upon a jury, where feeling is to be excited, or the
understanding forcibly impelled in a particular direction. His
faults of manner are angularity, abruptness, and violence. His
articulation is rapid and unmusical. His diction has no equa
bility of flow — it bursts out in irregular spirts. But he has a
clear head, much experi^ce . of human cbaracter and passion,
and infinite reliance upon himself. His tones, however faulty,
are fervid and sincere. His sentiments, though often extrava
gantly delivered, are bold and natural, and reach the heart.
I would describe his ordinary style of addressing a jury by
saying, not that it deeply moves them, for that would imply
a more regular and finished order of speaking, but that it " stirs
them up." In a word, he bustles through an appeal to the
intellect or passions with great ability. He commits many
faults of taste, but no essential breach of skill.
The jury are often startled by his detonations, and often
join in the general smile that follows those little personal epi
sodes into which the learned Sergeant occasionally diverges ;
but, after all, they see that they have before them a man who
knows well what he is about. They listen to him with atten-j
tion and respect ; never suspect that he has the slightest design
to puzzle them; and, when they retire to cool their fancies in
the jury-room, feel extremely disposed to agree that the views
he had thrown up to them were founded in the justice and
good sense of the case.
Mr. Goold sat in the last session of the Irish Parliament.
•The occasion of his presence there is much to his honor. I

246 THOMAS GOOLD.
have not heard by what particular influence he was returned.
It is sufiicient to state that he had already earned a character
for talent and public integrity, which pointed him out as a fit
person to co-operate in defending the last pass of the Irish
Constitution against the meditated surrender by its perfidious
guardians. The secret history of the Union has not yet transpired in
all its ignominious details. A work professing to perform such
an act of historical vengeance, and emanating from an eye-_
witness, was undertaken about eighteen years ago. A kind of
prefatory volume, taking up the subject at an ominous distance,
was published as a specimen. The continuation, or, more
strictly speaking, the commencement, was anxiously expected.
I have no authoi-ity for asserting that there was any tampering
with the writer's indignation; but it maybe mentioned as a
curious coincidence, that the suspension of his design was co
eval with his appointment to be Judge of the Court of Admi
ralty in Dublin, over which, if there be any truth in the old
maxim, " Major e longinquo reverentia," he must be allowed to
have presided in a style of the most imposing dignity. He
has for many years been a resident of France ; sometimes, no
doubt, sojourning in the Isle of Oleron, where our sea-laws were
originally compiled and promulgated by Eichard L, and lat
terly in the town of Boulogne-sur-Mer, where his marine medi
tations must be greatly assisted by the visible aspect of " things
flotsam, jetsam, and ligan," to say nothing of the cheering
influence of an occasional wreck, in reminding, him of the
convenience of judicial functions that can be performed by
deputy.* * Mr. Shell appears to have literally stated this " without the book.'' The
publication to which he alludes, was in quarto form, with several fine porh-aits
well engraved, and as many as six parts or Uvraisons were published, making
three hundred and two pages in all. The first pait appeared in June, 1809
(with a preface signed by the author, who dated from Men-ion Square, Dublin),
and the sixth part was published in March, 1815. The actual title of the boolc
is as follows : " The Historic Memoirs of the Legislative Union between Great
Britain and Ireland ; by Sir Jonah Barrington, one of his Majestj-'s Council at
Law, Judge of the High Court of Admiralty in IreloJid, and Member of the
late Irish Pariiament for the Cities of Tuam and Clogher." In point of facf

SIR JONAH BAKEINGTON. 247
Had Sir Jonali Barrington persevered in Lis design, he
would have had some strange things to tell of the honorable
he was made Judge two years before the appearance of the first number of his
book. There was an interval of seventeen years between Part VI. and the
conclusion. He stated J:hat this delay was causeJ, not by himself, as the book
had long been completed, but by three several bookseller.-;, who undertook to
publish it, having become bankrupt. As the republication, in New York, of
the clever and popular " Personal Sketches of his Own Times," has recently
drawn attention to Sir Jonah Barrington, I shall give his memoir, which is
not to be found in any Biographical Dictionary. The Gentleman! s Magazine
(of London) when it ajinounced his death, promised a biogiuphy, but never
gave one. — Sir Jonah Barrington, born iu Ireland, in 1767, was called to the
Irish Bar in 1788, entered Parliament as member for Tuam, in 1790, and
directly opposed Grattan and Cnrran — a proceeding which, in i-iper years, he
described as " true arrogance." In 1793, as a I'eward for his subservience to
the Government, he was appointed to a sinecure iu the Dublin Custom-House,
worth one thousand pounds stei'ling a year. He was also made King's Coun
sel, though only five years at the bar. He says that, in 1799, Lord Castlereagh
promised to make him Solicit{jr-General, but afterward refused to do so, on
finding that he was resolved to oppose the Union. He stood candidate for
Dublin, in 1803, where he was popular because he had latterly opposed the
hated Lord Clare, and the first four persons who voted for him were Grattan,
Cun-an, Ponsonby, and Plunket; aftor a prolonged contest of fifteen days (the
time of polling is now limited to one) he lost his election. He was made Judge
of the High Couit of Admiralty in Ireland, and knighted in 1807. He published
a portion of his " Historic Memoir of the Union," between 1809 and 1815, aud
went to France in the latter year, being in Paris during Napoleon's " Hundred
Days." From that time, owing to pecuniary diflBiculties, lie continued to re
side in France, discharging the duties of his judgeship by deputy. In 1827,
he published the "Personal Sketches of his Own Times," which has had great
popularity wherever English books are read. In the House of Commons, in
1830, a serious charge of malversation (applying to his own use funds belong
ing to private parties, under the Admiralty laws), and it was reported to the
House by a committee of inquii-y that the charge was proven. On this, both
Houses of Parliament joined in an address lo the Crown to remove him fi:om
his high office — he had failed in an attempt to disprove the charge in person
before the House of Lords — and he was removed accordingly. Shortly after
this, he published the remainder of his suspended Memoirs and Anecdotes of
the Union, and its details are the fullest and most exact yet made pubhc. He
died at Versailles, April 8, 1834. Barrington was a witty, shrewd, and com
panionable man. His personal sketches are full of lively incident. Of his
oral faceticE the following is a specimen : Once, amid the ruins of a cathedral,
somebody asked what the nave of the church was ? " The incumbent, to be
sure," said Barrington. When the clergyman heard of it he observed that
" Sir Jonah had given a key (k) to the question." — M.

248 TJUOSIAS GOOLD.
gentlemen who sold their country. There v,as much, however,
that could not be concealed. The measure, smoothed aud var
nished as it might be to meet the public eye, retained all the
coarse and disgusting outlines of an Irish job. It was proposed
in 1799, and rejected.
The following year, the proposition was renewed and car
ried. In the interval, wonders had been done in the way of
an amicable arrangement. The predatory right.s of au Irish
representative were duly considered and admitted. A vote
and its concomitant privileges were not now to be estimated at
the old market-price of seven years' puixhase, but, being to be
bought up in perpetuity, a just and commensurate equivalent
was allowed to meet the increased cost of a majority, all kinds
of compensation in possession and reversion were forthcoming.*
Peerages were given down. The Bench was mortgaged. Tlje
earnest of a pension was advanced to soothe the impatience of
the reversionary placeman. Boroughs were declared to be
private property, and so excellent and certain a provision for
the patron's younger children, that it would be a violation of
all justice to exact their gratuitous surrender. Their pecuniary
value was ascertained, and the public faith solemnly pledged
to treat a customary breach of the constitution (a title to prop
erty of which Blackstone never dreamed) as one that by " the
courtesy of Ireland" gave the prescriptive offender an equita
ble interest in its continuance.!
Numerous anecdotes of the legislative higgling on this occasion are cuiTent
in Ireland — some of them sufficiently dramatic. One member, for example,
tendered his terms. They were accepted, and a verbal promise given that the
contract should be faithfully observed. He insisted upon a written guaranty.
This was refused, and the treaty broken o£f. The member went down to the
house, and vented a virtuous harangue against the proposed measure. As soon
as he sat down, the written security was handed to him. He put it in his
pocket, voted against his speech, and was in due season appointed to a lucj-a-
tive office which he still enjoys, defying the historian and laughing at the no
tion of posthumous fame.
t By the Act of Union, eighty-four boroughs were disfranchised. Remuner
ation, to the amount of fifteen thousand pomids steriing each, was voted to the
patrons. In the debate on the latter point, one of Lord Castlereagh's argu
ments was that the patrons could not have been brought to enter upon " a cool
esiamination," of the general question, had not their fears for their personal in-

HIS VOTE AGAINST THK UNION. 249
These are but a few specimens of the means resorted to in
order to precipitate a measure that was announced in all the
pomp of prophetic as.sertion, as the sure and only means of
conferring prosperity and repose upon the Irish nation : and
were it not for certain counteracting circumstances, such as —
the nightly incursions of Captain Ilock ; tlie periodical eclipses
of the Constitution by the intervention of the Insurrection Act ;
a pretty general insecurity of life and propertj- ; the decay of
public spirit; the growth of faction; a weekly list of insolven
cies, murders, conflagrations, and letters from Sir Harcourt
Lees, unprecedented in the annals of a happy country — but for
these, aud similar visitations, all originating in the comprehen
sive and inscrutable. efforts of the prophets themselves to falsify
their prediction, the Union, notwithstanding the demerits of
its supporters, might long since have ceased to be a standing
topic of popular execration.
The disasters that, in point of fact, have followed, were
pretty accurately foreseen bj- the men who opposed this much-
vaunted measure. Tbey failed, but they did their duty fearlessly
and well, and not one of them, it is but just to say, in a spirit
of more entire self-oblivion, and more earnest sensibility to his
public duties, than the person whose name is prefixed to the
present article. His manly and upright conduct, as usual in
Ireland, excited deep and lasting resentment. He was stig
matized as an honest Irishman, and, disdaining to atone by
after-compliances for his original offence, had to encounter all
those impediments to professional advancement which syste
matically followed so obnoxious a disqualification.
Here I had intended to close my observations upon Sergeant
Goold; but it occurs to me that there remains one topic, not,
indeed, connected with his professional life, but of so much
terests been set at rest by a certainty of compensation. The-injustice of anni
hilating provisions in family settlements resting upon the security of boroughs
was also insisted on. I like better the stem logic of Mr. Saurin ; " There can
be no injustice in denying property to be acquired by acts which the law de
clares to be a crime. As well might the highwayman, upon a public road being
stopt up, exclaim against the disturbance of his right to plunder the passengers."
[The actual sum paid away, as "compensation," to the patrons of Irish bor-
oughe, at the Union, was over one and a half million pounds sterling. — M.]

250 THOilAS GOULD.
notoriety, and to this day so often canvassed, that a total
silence upon it might be misconstrued. I allude to the evidence
which he ga^¦e in tbe year 1818, at tbe bar of t^ie House of
Commons, upon the inquiry into the conduct of Mr. Wyndham
Quin * An imputation was cast upon his character at the
time; and though stifled, as fir as it could be, by the vote of
an immense majority of the House, it has not wanted external
support in that uncharitable spirit, which is ever ready to pro
nounce a summary verdict of conviction, upon no other fouuda-
tion than the fact of a charge having been made.
I have now before me tbe report of the debates, and the
minutes of the evidence in question. The latter are so
voluminous, tb'at it would be altogether unjust to the party
concerned, to propose repelling the accusation by any analysis
aud commeuLs that could be condensed into my present limits.
I can merely state the general conclusion, to which I have
c >me upon a minute examination and comparison of the sev
eral parts of tlie e\'idenee ; and that is my full and unhesi
tating conviction, that Mr. Gi old was as incapable as the most
high-minded of his accn.sers, of intentiojially withholding or
misrepresenting a single fact which he was called upon to dis
close. He was, I admit, what is technically called "a bad
witness;" barristers are pioverbially so (instead of an answer
they give a speech). Mr. Goold, from his habits and temper
ament, is peculiarly so. Upon every matter, great aud small,
he is hot and hasty ; aud announces his views with the tone
and temper of a partisan. It is a part of tlie constitution of
his mind, to have au undue confidence' in the infallibility of his
faculties and tho importance of his personal concerns. All
this broke out, as it does everywhere else, at the bar of the
House of Commons : he could no more I'epress it than he
* Goold, when examined as a witness in the Limerick Election case, an
swered so vaguely, and confusedly, that his statement appeared full of discrep
ancies. The Election Committee reported him guilty of prevarication — a
serious charge against a man of his standing at the bar" and in society. The
result was that he was thenceforth passed over in all law appointments. Pre-
\iously, his elevation to the bench was considered certain. Goold eventually
became iM.jster in Chancery (a sort of legal sinecure in his case), and died at
a v;iy advanced age. — M.

ENDORSED BY GEATTAN. 251
could the movement of his arteries; and the effect upon the
minds of strangers to his peculiarities may naturally enough
have been unfavorable : biit -s^hen the question arisen is a
denial of a collateral and unessential matter of fact, a lapse of
memory, or a meditated suppression, surely every one, who
would not wantonly shake the stability of character, should
feel bound to put the tenor of a long and honorable life against
a most improbable supposition.
This was the view taken by those who knew him best :
among the rest, by the late Mr. Grattan, whose friendship
alone formed high evidence of a spotless reputation. ¦ For
thirty years Mr. Grattan had been his intimate friend, and
had seen him pass through the ordeal of times which tried,
as far as any earthly process can try, the worth and honor of
a man: and what was his impassioned exclamation? "Mr.
Goold is thoroughly known to me. I would stake my exist
ence upon his integrity, as I would upon my own. If he is
not to be trusted, I know not who is to be trusted !" To this
attestation, and its inference, I can not but cordially subscribe.

JOHN HENRY NOETH.
I LOOK upon Mr. North to be in several respects a very
interesting person. He is immediately so by the great respec
tability of his character Jfnd talents. He is at the same time
a subject that less directly invites the attention and speculation
of an observer, in consequence of certain predicaments of sit
uation and feeling, upon which his lot has cast him, and in
discussing which the mind must, of necessity, ascend from the
qualities and tbe fortunes of the individual to considerations of
a higher and more lasting concern. If I were to treat of him
solely as a practising barrister, possessed of certain legal attri
butes, and having reached a determined station, the task would
be short and simple. But this would be unjust. Mr. Xorth's
mind and acquirements, and, it may be added, his personal
history, entitle him to a more extended notice, and, in some
points of view, to greater commendation, not unmingled, how
ever, with occasional regrets, than his merely forensic cai-eer
would claim.
It is now about fiftctMi years .since Jlr. North was called to
the Irish bar.* He \\ .i.s calU';l, not merely by the bench of
* John Henry North, born in 1789, went through Trinity College,' Dublin,
with brilliant success, obtaining such distinctions there that no one for a century
had a higher coll-giate reputation. Lt 1811, he was called to the bar, and
immcdi.itcly established a nami.' for oloquenre and legal acumen. He was
married in 1818, to the sister of John Leslie Foster, afterward ci Judge, and a
near relative of Lord Oriel. Mr. North, whose character for oratorj- was very
high, waa brought into Pariiament, in 1825, for an English borough, by Can
ning, to whom he was known. He was returned for on Irish borough in 1831,
and by no moans equalled the expectations of his political fi-iendsr In 1830,
on the removal of Sir Jonah Banington, the oflice of Judge of the Admiralty

HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 253
legal elders performing the technical ceremony of investment,
but by the unanimous voices of a host of admiring friends,
so numerous as to be in themselves a little public, who fondly
predicted that his career would form a new and brilliant era
in the annals of Irish oratory. This feeling was not an absurd
and gTOundless partiality. There was, in truth, no previous
iustance of a j'oung man making his entry into the Four
Courts, under circumstances so imposing and- prophetic of a
high destination. Hehad already earned the fame of being
destined to be famous. In his college course he had outstripped
every competitor. He there obtained an optime — an attes
tation of rare occurrence, and to be extorted only by merit of
the highest order in all of the several classical and scientific
departments, upon which the intellect of the student is made
to sustain a public scrutiny into the extent of its powers and
attainments. The Historical Society was not yet suppressed.* Mr. North
was accounted its most shining ornament. It was an estab
lished custom that each of its periodical sessions should be
Court in Ireland was conferred upon Mr. North, by the Duke of Wellington.
When the Reform BiU was brought forward by Earl Grey's administration, its
details were opposed by Mr. North, who considered it a revolutionary measr
ure ; Canning whose politics he held, had ahvays opposed Parliamentary Kcform.
Mr. North died in September, 1831, at the early age of forty-two.
* The Historical Society, long connected with the University of Dublin, was
at once the nursety and the school of Irish Eloquence. There some of the great
men who have made history, learned the difficult task of public speaking, which
has been well defined to be the art of thinking on one's legs. In that arena,
Sheil himself was schooled in rhetoric. Among the later orators in this Soci
ety were Charles Wolfe, author of the noble lyric, " Not a drum was heard,"
in which he described the burial of Sir John Moore, who fell, in January, 1809,
during the retreat at Corunna. The liberal principles professed and vindicated
in the Historical Society, induced the University authorities first to discounte
nance it, next to restrict its license, then to drive it out of connection with the
College, and finally to suppress it. The Speculative Society of Edinburgh, of
which an account is given in Lockhart's " Life of Scott" — the place where
Jeffrey, Brougham, and their compeers, learned to be eloquent — appears to
have much resembled the Historical Society of Dublin. So, also, to this hour,
are the Debating Clubs (called " The Union"), at the Universities of Oxford
and Cambridge, where Heber and Gladstone, as well as Macaulay and Bulwer,
first gained distinction among their fellows. — M.

254 JOHN HENRY NORTH.
closed by a parting address from the chair, reviewing and
commending the objects of the institution. The task, as a
mark of honor, wo-h assigned to Mr. North. It was the last of
his academic efforts, and is still referred to by those who heard
him, as a rare and felicitous example of youthful enthusiasm
for eloquence and letters, soaring above the commonplaces of
panegyric, and dignifying its raptures by the most luminous
views, and by illustrations drawn from the resources of a pure
and lofty imagination. It was pronounced to be a masterpiece,
and the author urged to extend the circle of his admirers by
consenting to its publication. But he had the modesty or the
discretion to refuse ; and the public were deprived of a compo
sition which, whatever might be its other merits, would at least
have told as a glowing satire upon the miserable, monastic
spirit, that soon after abolished the Historical Society as a
perilous innovation upon the primitive objects of the royal
foundress of Trinity College. It is edifying to add, that John
¦ Locke's Treatise on Government was also pronounced to in
spire doctrines that would have met no countenance " in the
golden days of good Queen Bess ;" and as such, was expelled
from the college course.
Mr. North's talents for public speaking were further exer
cised, and with increasing reputation, in the Academical So
ciety of London. The impression that ho made there attracted
numerous visiters. He had now to stand the brunt of an au
dience little predisposed to be fascinated by provincial decla
mation. But the severest judges of Irish oratory admitted
that his was copious, brilliant, and, best of all, correct. He
was pronounced by some to be fitted for the highest purposes
of the senate. It was even whispered that a ministerial mem
ber (a fortunate emigrant from Ireland, who had lately proved
his capacity for less delicate commissions), had been secretly
deputed from Downing street* to "look in" at the academies,
* Downing street in London is a cul-de-sac in Pariiament sti-eet, close to the
Ilorse-Guards, and in the vicinity of the Legislature. The principal offices of
the State Administration are in this street — or rather were, as they have lat
terly been much increased, and their principal fapade (which has many archi
tectural beauties, and was erected by Sir Charles Barry, the architect of the
New Houses of Parliament) is in Whitehall. The Colonial and Foreign Offi-

GROWING CELEBRITY. i!t)0
and report upon the expediency of tendering a borough and a
place to the youthful orator. But Avhether it was that the
honorable and learned missionary had no taste for a style of
eloquence above his own ; or that he missed that native auda
city \\ hich he could so well appreciate ; or that he had the
shrewdness to infer, from certain popular tendencies in the
speaker's cast of thougiit, that he might turn out not to be a
marketable man — the experiment upon Mr. North's virgin
ambition, if ever meditated, was not exposed to the risk of
failure. The murmur, however, ran that such a proposal had
been in agitation. Mr. North's growing celebrity had all the
benefit of the rumor ; and when he shortly after appeared in
the Irish Hall, he was considered to have perched upon that
bleak and arid waste as upon a mere place of passage, whence,
at the expected season of transmigration, he was to wing his
flight to a brighter and more congenial clime. This latter
event, however, contrary to the calculations and wishes of all
wljo knew him, was for years delayed. It is only the other
day that Mr. North has at length been summoned to the
Senate.* In the interval, his progress at the bar, howevej flattering it
might be to a person of ordinary pretensions, has not realized
the auspicious anticipations under which his coming was an
nounced. Wherever he has been tried, he has proved his
legal competency. In some of -the qualifications for profes
sional eminence, and, among them, those in which a proud but
unambitious man would most desire to excel — in a sound and
comprehensive knowledge of general principles, and a facility
of developing them in lucid and imposing language, he need
not shrink from a comparison with a single contemporary rival.
ces are in Downing street: the Home and Council Offices, with the Board of
Trade, the Commissioners of Education, Treasury, and Woods and Forests,
are in Whitehall, in connection with Downing street. The War Office and the
Admiralty are between the Treasury buildings and Charing-Cross. — M.
* Mr. North first was returned in 1825, for Milbourne Port, a small borough
tmder the influence of the Marquis of Anglesey, who was then in friendly rela
tions with Canning, under whom he held office two years later. Milbourne
Port (which was disfranchised in 1832, hy the Reform Bill) was represented,
in 1830-'31, by Mr. Sheil.— M.

256 JOHN IIUNIIY ^¦OiiTH.
In others, and especially in the rarer and higher art of kind
ling and controlling the passions of an auditory, he has not
hitherto answered to the prophetic hopes by which he was
" set like a man divine above them all ;" while, in respect of
that extra-forensic and general importance which a person so
gifted might, it was imagined, so rapidly attain, he has been
altogether stationary. When he first appeared to public view,
he lighted upon a pedestal, and the pedestal and the statue
remain where they were. The question is often asked by
others (and I doubt not by himself), " How has this come to
pass?" It is one involving matters of general interest to all
who embark in public life ; and I shall endeavor, as I proceed,
to offer a few such incidental hints, as, when collected, may
supply a satisfactory answer.
The early admirers of this accomplished young man were
fully warranted at the time in their praises and predictions.
His mind was one of rapid growth, and put forth in its first-
fruits the same qualities, in both kind and degree, which are
the subject of just admiration at the present day. His intellect
is singularly sound and clear. For the acquirement of knowl
edge, it may be said +0 be nearly perfect. It is vigorous,
cautious, and comprehensive. The power of attention, that
master-key to science, is under his absolute control. Whatever
is capable of demonstratiou is within his grasp. Give him any
system to explore, and no matter'' how intricate the paths,
wherever a discoverer has gone before, he will be sure to fol
low in his track. His understanding, in a word, is eminently
docile ; at least so I would infer from the early extent and
rapidity of his scientific attainments, and from the habits of
order and perspicacity with which he has mastered the less
manageable dogmas of our national jurisprudence.
Tn the power of imparting what he has thus acquired, Mr.
North has also much that is uncommon. One qualification of
a speaker he possesses in an extraordinary degree. For ex
temporaneous correctness and copiousness of phrase, I would
place him in the very highest rank. All that he utters,
wherever the occasion justifies the excitement of his faculties,
might be safely printed without revision. Period after period

O'CONNELJ.. AS A SPEAKICR. 257
rolls on, stately, measured, and complete. There is a paternal
solicitude — perhaps a slight tinge of aristocratic pride, in his'
determination that the children of his fancy should appear
abroad in no vulgar garb. He is not like O'Connell, Avho,
¦with the improvidence of his country, has no compuncjion in
flinging a brood of robust young thoughts upon the world
-without a rag to cover them.* Mr. North's are all tastefully
* O'Connell had wonderful versatility as a speaker. He literally acted nii.
the advice of St. Paul, trnd was " all things to all men." In a Court of Law, i..e
occasionally joked with a jury, dragged them into his view of the case, by sub
tile argument, strong declamation, and an irresistibly natural manner. At a
political meeting, where he spoke to the multitude, he alternately made them
smile or get enraged, as he jested or moved their feelings. In Parliament,
which he did not enter until he was fifty-four years old, he was calm, more
subdued, more careful, more solicitous in his choice of words, and his man
ner of delivering them. Pie made some lucky hits, too, which amused the
members. Such was his allusion to Mr. Walter, of the Times newspaper, who
retained his seat on the Government side of the House, in 1835, after his Tory
friends had crossed back to the opposition benches. O'ConneU turning to hira,
apostrophized him as " The last rose of Summer
Left blooming alone.
All its lovely companions
Are faded or gone !"
So, also, when sneering at the few adherents who sided with Lord Stanley (now
Earl of Derby), in 1834, when he seceded from the Grey Ministry, he quoted
two lines from Darwin —
" Thus down thy hill, romantic Asboume, glides
The Derby dilly, carrying six insides."
And his parody on the three militia Colonels — Percival, Verner, and Sibthorpe,
who were respectively brazen, intolerant, and hirsute : —
" Three Colonels, in three distant counties bom
Sligo, Armagh, and Lincoln, did adorn.
The first in matchless impudence surpassed,
The next in bigotry — in both, the last.
The force of Nature could no farther go —
To beard the third, she sheared the other two !"
As a parliamentary speaker, independent of his readiness and abiHty, O'Con
nell had immense weight from his position as the " Member of all Ireland,"
actually carrying with him the votes of nearly one half the Irish members.
But; Sheil, as an orator, was listened to with more attention and delight. The
moment his shrill voice was heard, all was fixed attention and eager expecta
tion, for every one knew that a great intellectual treat was at hand. — M.

258 JOHN HENKY NOETH.
and comfortably clad. But this extraordinary care is unmark
ed by any laborious effort. In the article of stores of diction,
his mind is evidently in affiuent circumstances, and betrays no
lurking apprehension that the demands upon it may exceed
his resources. There are no ostentatious bursts of unwonted
expenditure to keep up the reputation of his solvency.' Sen
tence after sentence is disbursed with the familiar air of un
concern which marks tbe possessor of the amplest funds.
With qualifications such as these, unequivocally manifested
at a very early age, and aided by a graceful and imposing
manner and a personal character whicli stamped a credit upon
all he uttered, aud these natural excellences stimulated by a
generous ambition to answer the general call that was made
upon him to be a foremost man in his day, it was naturally to
be anticipated that Mr. North would do great things; but his
endowments, however rare, have been greatly marred, as to
all the purposes of his fame, by a radical defect of tempera
ment, to the chilling influence of w hich I can trace the failure
of the splendid hopes that attended his entrance upon public
life. Mr. North has abundant strength of intellect, but he has
not equal energy of will. His mind wants boldness and deter
mination of character. It wants that hardihood of purpose
and contempt of consequences, without which nothing great in
thought or action cau be accomplished. He is trammelled by
a fastidious taste, and by a disastrous deference to every petty
opinion that may be pronounced upon him. He sacrifices his
fame to his dignity. Fame, he should have remembered, is
like other fair ladies, aud faint heart never won her. Like the
rest, she must be warmly and ' importunately wooed. He
shrinks, however, from the notion of committing himself as her
suitor, except upon a classical occasion.
I have been often asked " if I considered Mr. North to be a
man of genius V My answer has been, " He would be, if he
dared." If it were possible to transfuse into his system a few-
quarts of that impetuous Irish blood which revels in O'Con
neU's veins — if he could be brought to bestir himself and
burst asunder the conventional fetters that enchain his spirit,
he has many of the other qualities that would entitle him to

HIS FASTIDIOUS TASTES. 259
that envied appellation. But as it is, his powers are enthralled
in a state of magnetic suspension between the conflicting in
fluences of his ambition and his apprehensions. With all the
desire in the world to be an eminent man, and conscious that
the elements of greatness are within him, one of its most neces
sary attributes he still is' without — a sentiment of masculine
self-reliance, and along with it a calm and settled disdain for
the approbation of little friends, and the censure of little ene
mies, and the murmurs of the tea-table, and the mock-heroic
gravity with which mediocrity is ever sure to frown upon a
style of language or conduct above its comprehension. Hence
it is, that he has never yet redeemed the pledges of his youth.
In his public displays, which, from the same scrupulous taste,
have been far more unfrequent than they ought, he has been
copious, graceful, instructive, and, in general, almost faultless
to a fault. But the lofty spirit of heroic oratory was wanting
-^" there was no pride nor passion there." He is so afraid
,of " tearing a passion to tatters," he'll scarcely venture to touch-
it. He distrusts even light from heaven for fear it should lead
astray. I am far from attributing these deficiencies to any inherent
incapacity of lofty emotions in Mr. North ; I should rather say
that he has been iu some sort the spoiled child of premature
renown. The applause that followed his first attempts taught
him too soon to propose himself as a model to himself, and to
shudder at the danger of degenerating from that ideal standard.
He speculated "too curiously" upon how much character he
might lose, without considering how much more might yet be
gained. In this respect he arrived too soon at his years of
discretion. His mind seems also to have early imbibed an
undue predi^lection for the mere elegancies of life, and for
external circumstances as connected with them. In spite of
his better opinions on the subject of human rights, I am not
sure that his heart would not beat as high and quick at the
pageantry of a Coronation, as at the demolition of a Bastille.
In matters of literature, too, I would almost venture to say
/that what in secret delights him most, is not the bold, impas
sioned, and agitating, but the gentle and diffuse : that he likes

260 JOHN HENEY JJOBTH.
not the shock of those tempests of thought that purify the
mei-ital atmosphere, chasiug away the collected clouds, and
tearing up our sturdiest prejudices by the roots, but rather
prefers to repose his spirit in the midst of those quiet reveries
where no favorite opinion is in danger of being shaken. In
stead of ascending to the mountain-tops with the hardy specu
lator, he -K'ould rather linger among the charms of the culti
vated plain with the meek essayist — where, sauntering along
through scenes of security and repose, with all harsher objects
excluded from the view, and nothing around but sweet sights,
sweet smells, and pleasant noises, becalming every sense, the
pensive soul, forgetting, for the moment, the world and its
ways, is lulled to rest, and dreams that all is right.
Mr. North would have -written the most beautiful letters in
the world from the Lake of Geneva, and not the less so from
the inspiring influence of an elegant residence on its banks.
His speeches savor of the particular tastes I have been descri
bing. There is too much of the equanimity of literature about
them — too little of the ardor and impetuosity of passion
speaking viva voce. They rather resemble high-wrought aca
demic effusions, stately, orderly, and chaste, and having also
the coldness of chastity, than the glowing eruptions of a Inind
on fire, warming and illuminating whatever comes within its
range. To conclude, Mr. North is a proficient in the formal
parts of the higher order of oratory — in diction — arrange
ment — the selection and command of topics — delivery — ac
tion — but (to adopt some hackneyed illustrations) in the same
degree as moonlight differs from the splendor of the sun, pearl
from diamond, silver from gold, the scented and well-trimmed
shrubbery from the majestic forest, the placid waters of the
latie from the impetuous heavings of " old ocean," so may
he be said to fall short of first-rate excellence in the art of
speaking. .
From my observations upon Mr. North's mind, neutralized
as he has permitted it to become, I should say that now his
chief strength lies in sarcasm, and in that species of humor
which consists of felicitous combinations of mock-heroic im
agery and gorgeous diction, descriptive of the feelings and

IN PAELIAMENT. 261*
eitnation of the object ridiculed; — and yet he has employed
his powers in this respect so sparingly, that I have some
doubts whether he be fully aw-are of their extent. I have not
heard that he gave any early indications of this talent ; and
though at first view it may appear to be at variance with the
leading propensities of his mind, I do not conceive it difiicult
to account for its existence. On the contrary, it seems natural
enough that a person gifted with powers of language and ima
gination, but of too timid a taste to risk them upon sincere and
serious trains of sentiment, should resort to ridicule, and to
that particular kind, to which I have just adverted. Such a
person feels what an awful thing it is to be accountable to a
sneering public, for the appropriateness of every generous
thought and glowing illustration into which a well-meaning
but too fervid enthusiasm may betray him. The incessant
recollection of the proximity of the ludicrous to the sublime,
appals and paralyzes him ; but give him an adversary whose
motives and reasonings and language are to be travestied, and
the spell that bound his faculties is dissolved. Here, where
every exaggeration has a charm, he ventures to give full scope
to his fancy. The very temper of mind that renders him sen
sitive and wary when he speaks in his own person, suggests
the boldest images, and the more grotesque they are the bet
ter, when by a rhetorical contrivance the whole responsibility
of them is, as it were, shifted upon the shoulders of another.
I would almost venture to predict, that it is this way Mr. North
will make himself most felt in the House of Commons.* He
has the classic authority of Mr. Canning, for proposing as a
subject the Duigenan redivivus of the House; but I have my
fears that he will select a nobler mark than Master Ellis.t I
* Tlie expectations of Mr. North's friends were by no means realized. He
did not cut a figure in Parliament, and is said to have severely and painfully
been aware of the fact. — M.
t A gentleman named Ellis, who held the office of Master in Chancery, and,
fi'om his office, was called " Master Ellis," had been elected member for Dub
lin, some short time previous to the publication of tbis sketch, and considerable
dissatisfaction was excited thereby, as it was considered next to impossible
that he could attend to his Parliamentaiy duties in London and his legal duties
iq Dublin, at one and the same time. An act waa subsequently passed extend-

262 JOHN HENEY NOETH.
therefore caution my Opposition friends, and especially Mr.
Hume, to be on their guard.
Mr. North's exterior has notliing very striking ; his frame
is of the middle size and slender, his features small and pallid,
and unmarked by any prominent expression, save those ha
bitual signs of exhaustion, from which so few of the occupied
members of his profession are exempt. If he were a stranger
to me, I should pass him by without observation, but, knowing
who he is, and feeling what he might be, I find his face to be
far from a blank. Upon examination, it presents an aspect
of still and steady thoughtfulness, with that peculiar curve
about the lips when he smiles (as he often does) which imports
a ^pfined but too fastidious taste. When the countenance is
in repose, I fancy that I can also catch there a trace of lan
guor, such as succeeds a course of struggles -ivbere high and
early hopes had been embarked, while a tinge of melancholy,
so slight as to be dispersed by the feeblest gleam, but still re
turning and settling there, tells me that some and the most
cherished of them have been disappointed. I confess that I
respect Mr. North too much to regret those indications of a
secret dissatisfaction with his condition ; and more especially,
because in him they are entirely free from the ordinary fret-
fulness and acrimony of mortified ambition. He is too consid
erate and just to wage a splenetic warfare with the world be
cause all the bright visions of his j'outh have not beeii realized;
and he is still too young and too cautious of his capacity to be
irretrievably depressed when reminded by others or bj' himself,
that hitherto Fame has only spoken of him in whispers, and
that much must be done in both intellect and action, before
the glorious clang of her trumpet shall rejoice his ear.
These allusions to Mr. North's omissions as a public man,
are offered in no unfriendly spirit. If I looked upon hira as an
ordinary person, I should say at once of him, that he has well
ing to Irish Masters in Chancery the prohibition of silting in Parliament imposed
upon persons of like rank in England. Mr. EUis was recommended to the
Church and State corporation of Dublin, solely by his illiberal opinions and in
tolerant principles. He was a bigot in politics as well as in religion — servitot
worthy of such masters as fonned the Dublin Corporation thirty years ago. — M.

HNPAEDONABLE NKDTEALITY. 263
fulfilled the task assigned him. He has won his way to a re
spectable station in a most precarious profession; enjoys con
siderable estimation for general talent, and is cordially honor
ed by all who kno-n^ him, for the undeviating dignity and purity
of his private life. But from those to whom much is given
much is exacted. My quarrel with Mr. North is, that living
under a system teeming with abuses, and loudly calling upon
a man of his character and abilities to interpose their influence,
he should have consented to keep aloof a neutral and acquies
cent spectator. For fifteen long years, a liberal and enlight
ened Irishman, seeing with his own eyes what an English
barber could not read of without contempt for the nation that
endured, and not to have left a single document of his indig
nation ! — not a speech, not a pamphlet, not an article in a
periodical publication — not even that forlorn hope of a mal
treated cause, a well-penned protesting resolution ! What
availed it to his country that he was known to be a friend of
toleration, if his co-operation was withheld upon every occa
sion where his presence would have inspired confidence, and
his example have acted as a salutary incitement toothers?
What, that his theories upon the question of free discussion
¦were understood to be manly and just, if, after having witness
ed, the irruption of an armed soldiery into a legal meeting, and
being himself among the dispersed at the point of the bayonet,
he had the morbid patience to be silent under the affront to
the laws, paying such homage to the times as scarcely to
" Hint his abhorrence in a languid sneer."
His learning, too, his literary and philosophic stores, things so
much wanted in Ireland — where has he left a vestige of their
existence, so as to justify the most flattering of his friends in
saying to him, " You have not lived in vain, and should you
unfortunately be removed before your time, your country will
miss you ?"
This is what I complain of and deplore ; and these senti
ments are strong in proportion to my estimate of his latent
-value, and my genuine concern for the interests of his fame ;
for, in the midst of my reproaches, I see so much to admire and

264 JOHN HENRY NOETH.
respect in him, he is of so meek a carriage, and has about him
60 much of the gentleman and the scholar, that I can not divest
myself of a certain feeling of almost individual regard. Nor,
in putting the matter thus, am I aware that I make any unrea
sonable exactions. At particular seasons, his profession, no
doubt, must demand his undivided care : but there are intervals
which, with a mind full as Mr, North's is, might have been, and
may still be, dedicated to honorable uses. There are not want
ing contemporary precedents to show what the incidental la
bors of a lawyer may accomplish, in science, in letters, in public
spirit. Let him look to Mr. Brougham, to the versatility of his
pursuits, and the varieties of his fame — the Courts, the House
of Commons, and the "Edinburgh Review;" to Denman, Wil
liams, and many others of the English bar, eminent or on the
road to eminence in their profession, and patriotic and instruc
tive in their leisure ;* or (a more pregnant instance still), let
him turn to the Scotch, those hardy and indefatigable -n'orkers
for their own and their country's renown. Thei'e is Jeffrey,
Cockburn, Cranstoun, Murray, Montcrief, great advocates ev
ery man of them : the first tbe creator and responsible sustainer
of the noblest critical publication of the age ; the others ardent
and important helpmates, and all of them finding it practicable,
amid their regular and collateral pursuits, to take an active
lead in the popular assemblies of the north.t These men, whom
energy and ambition have made what they are, may be used
in other respects as a great example. Under circumstances
peculiarly adverse to all who disdained to stoop, they never
struck to the opinions of the daj', but, confiding in themselves,
were as stern and uncompromising in their conduct as in their
maxims — yet are they all prosperous and respected, and for-
* The principal counsel in defence of Queen Caroline (wife of George IV.),
proceeded against by a Bill of Pains and Penalties in 1820, were Henry
Brougham, her Attorney-General; Thomas Denman, her Solicitor-General;
Stephen Lushington, and John Williams. The first became Lord Brougham,
and Lord Chancellor of England ; the second, Lord Denman, Chief Justice of
the King's Bench; the third, Judge of the Consistoiy and Admiralty Courts
(which he still is) ; and the last (now dead) one of the puisne Judges. — M.
t All of these eminent lawyers subsequently became Judges in Scotland — or
Lords of Session, as they are called. — M.

THE SAUEIN DYNASTY. 265
midable to all by whom a high-spirited man would desire to
be feared.
I see but one plausible excuse for the course of political qui
etude to which Mr. North so perseveringly adhered, and in
fairness I should not suppress it. It was his fate to have com
menced his career under the Saurin dynasty. Things are
something better now ; but, some twelve or fifteen years ago,
wo betided the patriotic wight of the dominant creed who
should venture to whisper to the public that all was not un
questionable -wisdom and justice in the ways of that potent and
inscrutable gentleman ! The opposition of a Catholic was far
less resented. The latter was a condemned spirit, shorn of all
effective strength, and was suffered to flounder away impotent
and unheeded in the penal abyss ; but for a Protestant, and,
more than all, a Protestant barrister, to question the infinite
perfection of the Attorney-G-eneral's dispensations, was mon
strous, blasphemous, and punishable — and punished the cul
prit was. All the loyal powers of the land sprang with in
stinctive co-operation to avenge the outrage upon their chief
and themselves. The loyal gates of the Castle were slapped
in his face. The loyal club to which he claimed admission,
buried his pretensions under a shower of black-beans. The
-loyal attorney suspected his competency, and withheld his con
fidence. The loyal discounter declined to respect his name
upon a bill. The loyal friend, as he passed him in the streets,
exchanged the old, familiar, cordial greeting, for a penal nod.
In every quarter, in every way, it was practically impressed
upon him that Irish virtue must be its own reward. Even the
women, those soothers of the cares of life, whose approbation
an eminent French philosopher has classed among the most
powerful incentives to heroical exertion — even they, merging
the charities of their sex in their higher duties to the state, vol
unteered their services as avenging angels. The teapot trem
bled in the hand of the loyal matron as she poured forth its
contents, and along with it her superfine abhorrence of the
low-lived incendiary ; while the fair daughters of ascendency
grouped around, admitted his delinquency with a responsive
shudder, and vowed in their pretty souls to make his charac-
VoL. I.— 12

266 JOHN HENEY NOETH.
ter, whenever it should come across them, feel the bitter conse
quences of his political aberrations. All this was formidable
enough to common men. Mr. North was strong enough to have
faced and vanquished it. Instead of fearing to provoke the
persecuting spirit of the times, he might have securely wel
comed it as the most unerring evidence of his importance.
Having said so much, I am bound to add that the foregoing
observations have not the remotest reference to Mr. North's
conduct at the bar. There he is entitled to the highest praise,
and I give it heartily, for his erect and honorable deportment
iu the public and (an equal test of an elevated spirit) in the
private details of his profession. The most conspicuous occa
sion upon which he has yet appeared was on the trial of the
political rioters at the Dublin theatre.* It was altogether a
singular scene — presenting a fantastic medley of combinations
and contradictions, such as nothing but the shufiling of Irish
events could bring together: a band of inveterate loyalists
brought to the bar of justice for a public outrage upon the per
son of the King's representative ; an Attorney-General prose
cuting on behalf of one part of the state, and the other exulting
with all their souls at the prospect of his failure ; a popular
Irish bench ; an acquitting Irish jury ; and, finally, the profes
sional confidant of the Orange Lodges — the chosen defender
of their acts and doctrines, Mr. North. It would be difficult
to conceive a more perplexing office. He discharged it, how
ever, with great talent and (what I apprehend was less ex
pected) consummate boldness. As a production of eloquence,
his address to the jury contained no specimens of first-rate ex-
* -When the Marquis Wellesley was made -Viceroy of Ii-eland, in 1821, the
liberality of his opinions and his known desire that the Roman Catholic disa
bilities should be removed rendered him obnoxious to the " Protestant Ascen
dency" or Corporation and Orange party. Some ruffians belonging to this
party threw a bottle at Lord Wellesley, in Dublin theatre, and bills of indict
ment were preferred against certain persons apprehended on a charge of com
plicity in this affair. The Grand Jury (also Orange) ignored the bills. The
Government lawyer then proceeded ex-ojficio — a coui'se wholly independent
of grand juries — but got frightened, as the trial approached, and tho charge
fell to the ground, thereby gi\'ing a great triumph to the Corporation and their
satellites. — M.

HIS CAPABILITIES. 267
cellence, but many that were not far below it ; while his gen
eral line of argument, and his manner of conducting it, gave
signs of a spirit and po-wer from which I would infer, that,
should State Trials unfortunately become frequent in Ireland
during his continuance at the bar, he is destined to make no
inconsiderable figure as a leading counsel for the defences.
The Williamites were grateful for the effort, and greeted their
successful advocate with enthusiastic cheers on his exit from
the Court. This was, I believe, the only public homage of the
kind that Mr. North had ever received ; and, however welcome
at the moment, could scarcely fail to be followed by a senti
ment of sadness, when he reflected upon the untowardness of
the fate which doomed his name to be for the first time exalted
to the skies on the yell of a malignant faction that he musU.
have detested and despised.
The preceding views of Mr. North's intellectual characteris
tics were formed, and in substance committed to paper, before
his recent appearance in the House of Commons.* Since that
event I have seen nothing calling on me to retract or qualify
my first impressions. If the effect which he produced then
was not all that had been expected, I attribute it far less to
any deficiency of general power, than to that want of energy
and directness of purpose, which is the besetting infirmity of
his mind. Let him but emancipate himself (aiid he has shown
that he can do so) from the petty drags that have heretofore
impeded his course, and he may yet become distinguished to
his heart's content, and, what is better, eminently useful to his
country. He has the means, and nothing can be more propi
tious than the period. Irish questions press upon the Parlia
ment; upon the most vital of them (the Catholic) he thinks
with the just, aud will not fail to make a stand. Upon the oth
ers he can be, what is most wanting in that House, a fearless
witness. Wherever he interposes, the purity of his personal
character — his position with the Government — even the neu
trality of his former course, will give him weight and credit.
Nor (as far as his ambition is concerned) will services thus
rendered be unrev/^arded. So prostrate is the pride of Ireland,
* This sketch appeared in November, 1824. — M.

268 JOHN HENEY NOETH.
that she no longer exacts from her public men a haughty vin
dication of her rights. In these times a temperate mediator is
hailed as a patriot. This Mr. North can be ; but to be so with
effect, he must distinguish better than he has yet done between
false complaisance and a manly moderation. He must give
way to no mistaken feelings of political charity toward a gen
eration of sinners, whom flattery will never bring to repent
ance. If he praise the country-gentlemen of Ireland again,
until they do something to deserve it, I shall be seriously
alarmed for his renown.

THOMAS WALLACE.
Mr. Wallace is in several respects a remarkable man. He
has for many years held an eminent station in his profession,
and is pre-eminently entitled to the self-gratulation of reflect
ing, that his success has been of that honorable kind in whiclt
neither accident nor patronage had any share. Of his early
life and original prospects I have heard little, beside the fact
that, in his youth, he found himself alone in the world, without
competence or connections, and with merely the rudiments of
general knowledge ; and that under these disheartening cir
cumstances, instead of acquiescing in the obscurity to which
he was apparently doomed, he formed, and for years persevered
in a solitary plan of self-instruction, until, feeling his courage
and ambition increased by the result of the experiments he
had made upon himself, and measuring his strength with the
difficulties to be encountered, he rejected the temporary
allurements of any more ignoble calling ; and, with a boldness
and self-reliance which the event has justified, decided upon
the Bar as the most suited to his pretensions.
With this vie-w, and with a patient determination of purpose,
¦which is among the most trying exercises of practical philos
ophy, he qualified himself for Trinity College, and entering
there, gave himself (what was probably his chief motive in
submitting to the delay) the reputation of having received a
regular and learned education. He was called to the Bar in
1798, where his talents soon bringing him into notice, he ad
vanced at a gradual and steady pace to competence, then on to
affluence, and finally to the conspicuous place which he now
fills in the Irish courts. He obtained a silk gown about

270 THOMAS WALLACE.
seven years ago* — a period beyond which it could not, with
out consummate injustice, have been withheld ; but he was
known to have connected himself, in his political sjrmpathies,
with Mr. Grattan and the friends of Ireland ; t and this, ac
cording to the maxims by which the country was then govern
ed, was an unanswerable reason for procrastinating to the
latest moment his title to precedency.
Mr. Wallace's intellectual qualities are in many particulars
such as might be inferred from his history. In his character,
as developed by his early life, we find none of the peculiarities
of his country — no mercurial vivacity — no movements of an
impatient and irregular ambition — but rather the composed
and dogged ardor of a Scotchman, intent upon his distant ob
ject of fame and profit, and submitting, without a murmur, to
the fatigues and delays through which it must be approached.
In the same way it may be said of his mind, that it has little
-" In 1819 — this sketch appeared in July, 1826.— M.
t Grattan was, par excellence, the most liberal man in Ireland — devoting
over forty years of his public life to the cause of national independence and the
advancement of civil and religious liberty. He was not always popular, though
Ireland gave him fifty thousand pounds sterling for his services in 1782. Flood
insinuated that_he had betrayed his country for gold, and was " a mendicant
patriot who, for prompt payment, had sold himself to the Minister." Lord
Clare denounced him as " an infernal democrat.'' The Corporation of Cork
voted that the street, which had been named Grattan street, should in future ,
be called Duncan street. The Dublin Coi-poration, who had graced their hall
with his portrait, tore it down from the wall, and received a motion that he be
expelled from their body. Out of this an incident arose : There was a parlia
mentary contest for Dublin, in 1803, and Sir Jonah Banington was a popular
candidate. Grattan went up to vote for him, and was objected to as one who
bad been expelled tbe corporation. A violent Ascendency man, named John
Gifford (whose son. Doctor Gifford, is the able Editor of the London Standard),
made the objection. When silence \A'as restored, Grattan thus denounced himt
" Mr. SherifF, when I observe the quarter whence the objection comes, I am
not, surprised at its being made. It proceeds from the hired traducer of his
country — the excommunicated of his fellow-citizens — the regal rebel — the
unpunished ruffian — the bigoted agitator! In the city, a firebrand — in the
court, a liar — in the streets, a bully — in tbe field, a coward! So obnoxious
is he to the very party he wishes to espouse, that he is only supportable by
doing those dirty acts the less vile refuse to execute." — This was a pretfy
strong use of the vernacular. When the roll of voters was examined, it showed
th*t Grattan's name was never erased, so he voted for his friend. — M.

HIS PEESONAL APPKAEANOE. 271
or nothing that is strictly national. The forms in which it
excels are purely abstract, and would come as appropriately
from a native of any other country. It is as an advocate (as
contradistinguished from a mere lawyer), that he has been .
most successful ; and here the characteristic quality of his style
and manner, or rather, the compound result of all the qualities
- that belong to him professionally and individually, is masculine
energy. He is emphatically " the strong man." There is
at all times, and on all occasions, an innate, constitutional,
imposing vigor, in his topics, language, -tones, and gestures ;
all co-operating to a common end, and keeping for ever alive
in his auditory the conviction that they are listening to a
singularly able-minded man.
This impression is aided by his general aspect. His face,
without a particle of pedantic solemnity, is full of seriousness
and determination. Whatever of lofty or refined emotion
may belong to the individual, never settles upon his counte
nance, and equally absent is every trace of sentimental dis
content : but you find there a rigid, statue-like stability of
expression, importing consciousness of strength and immobility
of purpose, and suggesting to those who kno-w his history and
character an early and deliberate preparation for the world's
frown, and a determination to retort it. His features, though
remarkably in unison. with the intellectual and moral charac
ters impressed upon them, have few physical peculiarities that
can be conveyed by description. They are of the hardy
Celtic outline, are evidently composed of the most durable
materials, and still retain all the compactness and rotundity
of early youth. His frame, though little above the middle
size, presents the same character of vigor and durability, and
contributes its due proportion toward completing that general
idea of Strength, which I have selected as most descriptive of
the entire man. The more stern attributes, however, that I
have ascribed to him,_ refer exclusively to the individual, as I
have seen him in the discharge of his public duties. In the
intercourse of private life he is, according to universal report,
of the most frank and familiar manners, an extremely attractive
companion, and, what is better still, a warm and constant friend.

272 THOMAS WALLACE.
Considering, as I do, Mr. Wallace's mind to be in its original
constitution what may be denominated one of all-work, I
should say of it, that among the multiform and dissimilar
departments of intellectual exercise involved in the pi-ofession
of the law, there was scarcely any for which he could not have
provided a corresponding aptitude of faculty. His powers
have, however, been very much confined to those classes of
cases in which facts, rather than legal doctrines, are the
subject-matter of investigation. This may have been partly
accidental ; for, at the Irish bar, it is not only a matter of
chance whether the individual is to succeed at all, but chance,
in the majority of instances, determines the particular facul
ties that must be developed and permanently cultivated for
the purpose. There the aspirant for professional eminence
can not, as in England, select a particular department, and
make it the subject of his exclusive study.* One comes to
the scene of exertion, relying upon his stores of learned re
search and his capacity for the solitary labors of the desk —
but the necessity of taking whatever business is offered, throws
him into a totally dissimilar line. He becomes a ni.si-pri-u,s
or motion lawyer, upon compulsion ; strains his lungs in open
court, to a pitch that neither nature nor himself had ever de
signed ; and ascertaining by experiejice that this is to be his
way of " getting on," resigns his original studies as unpro
ductive toil, and concludes a prosperous career, without having
ever given an opinion upon a title, or settled the draft of a deed
of assignment.
Another starts upon the strength of his oral qualifications.
Full of confidence and ardor, and fired with admiration of
preceding models, he is all for eloquence — and eloquence of the
highest order. He studies black-letter, and technicalities as a
painful effort, but his cordial meditations are over the defence^
of Milo, and the immortal productions of the Athenian school.
* At the Irish as at the American bar, the lawyer takes all business that
comes to him — whether Nisi Prius, criminal, equity, mercantile, ecclesias
tical, or civil, not declining special pleading and conveyancing. In England,
the lawyer usually limits himself to one line, on which he concentrates his
attention and abilities. The natural result is that one practice makes good gen
eral and the other produces eminent special lawyers. — M.

JUDGE BUETON. Z(0
In his ambitious reveries, he sees before him a brilliant per
spective of popular occasions, with the usual accompaniments
of crowded galleries, spell-bound juries, an admiring bench, an
applauding bar — but let him take heed. It is at all times in
the power of two or three friendly attorneys, who are in any
business, to get him into Chancery, and keep him there, and
with the best intentions imaginable (if he only prove compe
tent to the tasks assigned him) to blast his fame for eloquence
for ever.*
It does not, however, appear to me, that Mr. Wallace is one
of those to whom any cross-purposes ofthis kind have assigned
a final destination that can be reasonably lamented. The
cases in which he is in most request, are, perhaps, those in
which he was originally, and still continues more peculiarly
fitted to excel.
Judging of him from his professional attributes and his col
lateral pursuits, I am led to infer that the early and strongest
propensity of his mind was for the discovery of truth ; or in other
words, that he was more of the philosopher than the sophist ;
and it will, I apprehend, be generally found true, that such an
intellect, however competent to seize, is less prone to retain
* I could cite more than one example of persons, whose talents for public-
speaking have been thus suppressed. I know of only one exception ; or to speak
more stiictly, of an instance of very uncommon powers of oratoiy, breaking out
long after the enthusiasm of youth had passed away, and in despite of a long sub
jection to habits of an opposite tendency. It was that of an Englishman, the
present Mr. .lustice Burton. He had been disciplined in all the severity of his
native school, and forced his way at the Iiish bar, entirely by his legal superi
ority. It was only, when in the regular course of seniority he came to address
juries, that it was first discovered by others, and probably by himself, that there
lay in the depths of his mind a mine of rich materials that had never been ex
plored. To the last he had to dig for thern. For the first half hour he was noth
ing ; it took him that tirae to reconnoiti-e his subject, and get thoroughly heated :
after that he was — not an accomplished speaker — for he never affected the
externals of oratoiy — but in its great essentials — unity of pui-pose, and bold,
rapid, and impassioned reasoning, enforced by the vigorous practical tones and
gestures of real life — possessor of an energy, that at times, and often for a long
time together, was quite Demosthenic. [Charles Burton, late one of the puisne
Judges of the Queen's Bench in Ireland, was induced to leave the English for
the Irish bar by Curran, and merited all the praise here given him. He
died in December, 1847, aged 87, much lamented. — M.]

274 THOMAS WALLACE.
and manage, a large mass of the multiform propositions of
English law, where the terms in most familiar use are often
subtile deductions from distant principles that are no longer
visible to those who emjiloy the terms with most effect; and
where, in fact, the process of argumentation may be likened
to the working of an algebraic equation, in which the final
result is ascertained by the juxtaposition of signs rather than
by a comparison of ideas. He has also indulged in too con
stant a sympathy with the concerns of general humanity, to
have ever shrunk into a mere technical proficient. To forra
the true " Leguleius, cantus atque acutus," a man must make up
his mind to remain for years and j'ears profoundly indifferent
to all that passes bej'ond the precincts of his immediate calling.
He must take the course of legislation as he would the course
of the stars, as things above him; and never venture, even in
his most private reflections, to pry into the policy of an Act of
Parliament, saving so far as the preamble may be pleased to
enlighten or perplex him on that point. If questions on the
Currency rage around him, he must take no part, except in
hoping that the decision will not diminish the exchangeable
value of the counsel's fee. If he chances to hear that a bog
has burst from its moorings, or that a blazing comet threatens
to pounce upon our planet, he must leave them to be treated
of by the curious in such matters, and go on with his medita
tions over a special demurrer. He must bring himself, in
short, to take no interest, direct or indirect, in aught that does
not come home to his learned self. His bag must be to him
the true sign of the times ; and as long as it continues in high
condition, he is to rest satisfied that human affairs must be
running a prosperous career.
Mr. Wallace has, however, found constant and profitable
occupation in a branch of his profession, where a proficiency
does not involve a corresponding waste of sensibility. He is
in high repute in jury cases, and still more in those cases
where issues of fact come under the investigation of the court,
upon the sworn statements of the parties and their witnesses.
It was said of the celebrated Malone, that to be judged of, ho
should be heard addressing " a jury of twelve wise men;" and

AS AN ADVOCATE. 275
certainly when I consider the eminent qualifications of Mr.
Wallace, distinguished as he is for. a solid and comprehensive
judgment ; for manly sagacity rather than captious subtilty in
'argument; for the talent (and here he peculiarly excels) of
educing au orderly, lucid, and consistent statement out of a
chaotic assemblage of intricate and conflicting facts ; for his
knowledge of human nature, both practical and metaphysical,
and, along with these, for the sustained and authoritative force
of his language and delivery, which operate as a kind of per
sonal warranty for the soundness of every topic he advances ;
I should say that the most fitting place for the exhibition of
such powers would be before such a tribunal as the admirers
of Malone would have assigned him ; but a tribunal, so consti
tuted, is not to be found. The most discriminating of Irish
sheriffs would be somewhat puzzled in his efforts to empannel
a round dozen of special sages in a jury-box ; but though wis
dom in such numerical force is not to be met with, there is a
tribunal in Ireland (a novelty perhaps) filled by persons, who
for knowledge, intellect, and impartiality, may, without exag
geration, be denominated "four wise men," and who are most
frequently called upon to serve as jurors in that description of
cases in which Mr. Wallace's professional superiority is most
acknowledged.* Those cases (in technical parlance called
" heavy motions") are more numerous in the Court of King's
, Bench, partly from its exclusive jurisdiction, as a court of
criminal law, and also in no small degree from its present
constitution, and the consequent influx of general business, by
which the public confidence in its adjudications is unequivo
cally declared.
* Mr. Curran, on one occasion, was trying a case before Lord Avonmore
and a stupid Dublin Juiy, by whom his best flights of eloquence and wit were
wholly unappreciated. Addressing them, with a side glance at the Judge, he
stated that Hesiod, a famous Greek historian, had exactly expressed his views,
and quoted t-wo lines of Latin ! " "Why, Mr. Curran," said the Judge, " Hesiod
was a poet not an historian, and the lines you quote are not Greek but Latin :
they occur in Juvenal." Cui-ran contended that they were Greek, aild the dis
pute grew warm. At last, Curran said, "Well, my lord, I see we must disa-
gi-ee. If it were a matter of law, I should bow to your lordship's opinion, but
itis one of fact, and rests with the Juiy to decide. Let us send it up as collat
eral issue to the Jury, aud I'll be bound that they will— /ni it Greek!" — M.

276 THOMAS WALLACE.
It is accordingly in this Court that Mr. Wallace, in his ordi
nary every-day manner, as an advocate, may be heard to most
advantage. His skill in dissecting a knavish affidavit is adr
mirable, and renders him the terror of all knavish deponents
upon whom he may have to operate. The exhibition is often
amusing enough to a disinterested spectator. The party whose
conscience is to undergo the ordeal of a public scrutiny, may
be seen seated by his attorney ; his countenance at first glow
ing with a defensive smirk of self-complacent defiance, but
manifesting, as the investigation into his candor and veracity
proceeds, the most marvellous varieties of hue and expression.
An inconsistency or two are pointed ont, and his smile of an
ticipated triumph gradually degenerates into a sub-acid sneer.
A fraudulent suppression is next put up, and then he begins to
look at his attorney ; and, finding no refuge there, to look
very grave. The counsel proceeds, inexorably accurate in his
detections, and caustic in his comments. Our worthy deponent
begins now to ti-emble for his reputation, and not without
reason ; for down come upon it a succession of mortal blows,
every one of which the listening crowd, who desire no better
sport, pronounce, by a malignant buzz, to have been " a palpa
ble hit." This quickly brings on the final stage. Our hero
" according to the very best of his knowledge, information
and belief," is mortified and wrathful in the extreme. He
starts and frowns and shifts his posture, and compresses his
lips, and clenches his fists : he would give worlds (so at least
says his eye; and I would believe it as soon as his affidavit)
to have just one blow at the head of his merciless torturer, or
to tell him in open court that be is a calumniator and an assas
sin. He is on the point of conimitting some extravagance,
when his attorney throws iu a word or two of cool advice, to
prevent his rage from boiling over, and the paroxysm gradu
ally works itself to rest in silent vows of indefinite vengeance,
or in sotto-voce murmurings of impotent vituperation.
In such cases as the preceding, the severity of Mr. Wallace's
animadversions is forgotten with the occasion ; but when, in
the discharge of his duty, he has been impelled to be equally
unceremonious in his comments upon litigants of a higher

LICENSE OF THE BAE. 277
order, murmurs have arisen, and questions been started as to
what are or ought to be the privileges of a barrister, in arraign
ing the conduct and motives of the parties to -vvhom he is
opposed. The irritated suitor of course exclaims against a
license under which he has smarted, as an intolerable griev
ance, and in general finds many sufficiently disposed to join
in his indignation; but no disinterested person, acquainted
with human nature as developed in the course of our legal
proceedings, and considering alone the ends of justice, can
easily bring himself to desire that the privileges complained
of should be in any way abridged. The law makes a counsel
personally responsible for any injurious observations upon the
characters of individuals not warranted by his instructions ;
and that those limits are seldom exceeded may be collected
from the fact, that actions for slander of this description are
unheard-of in practice. But if his instructions are manifestly
libellous, is he not under a paramount moral obligation to
suppress the obnoxious matter 1 or is every just and honorable
feeling of the gentleman to be merged in the conventional
character of the barrister 1 The answer is : — A counsel can
not tell whether his instructions be true or false ; and though
they should lean heavily upon an individual of previously
unblemished reputation, he is not on that account to take it
for granted that they are calumnious.
It is a matter of daily experience, that litigation makes
strange discoveries in the characters of men. Persons of un
suspected integrity no sooner become plaintiffs or defendants
in a cause, than, blinded by self-interest, or inflamed with the
silly desire of obtaining a victory, they are found resorting to
every knavish artifice to establish an unjust "resist an equi
table demand. How, then, in any given case alleged to be of
this description, can the counsel assure himself beforehand
that the result will falsify his instructions 1 Is he, in defiance
of them, to be incredulous and forbearing ; and from his
conjectural doubts and misgivings, to put forward a statement
so tame and wary as to deprive his client of the benefit of that
honest indignation in the court or jury, Vi'hich the real facts
of the case mieht iustifv 1

278 THOMAS WALLACE.
The present Chief-Justice Best* once said, in conversation,
of a barrister : " That man is unfit to conduct a case at the
Quarter Sessions : he believes what his client tells him."
There is equal truth in the converse of the proposition. A
barrister, who should make it a rule to act upon the disbelief
of what his client tells him, would prove equally incompetent.
But still, it is constjintly urged, the privilege thus contended
for produces much unwarrantable vituperation. To this it may
be replied, that custom has given to language a peculiar, qual
ified forensic sense, just as it has a Parliamentary one ; and
that, thus understood, the invectives of counsel are purely
hypothetical, and go for nothing, unless corroborated in proof
and sanctioned by a verdict. If cleverly thrown off, they may
for the moment gratifjf the bystanders, or ruffle the temper of
the party against whom they are directed — but they leave
no stain upon his reputation, if twelve men upon their oaths
pronounce him to be an honest man. The " daggers" that a
counsel "talks," are merely weapons handed up to the jury-
box : if any of them draw blood, the jury must strike the blow.
And it may be further observed, that this latitude of speech
is indirectly of no small service to the ends of justice, by the
terrors it holds out to persons who would have no compunction
in speculating upon the chances of fraudulent litigation, but
are sufficiently worldly and sensitive to shrink from a public
and unrestrained exposure of their iniquity.
In judging of an Irish barrister's capacity for the higher
orders of forensic eloquence, it is but just to remember, that
in that country great occasions are extremely rare ; and hence,
* WiUiam DrapaKBest was educated at Oxford, called to the bar in 1789,
rose into good practice, became Sergeant-at-Law in 1800, and soon after was
made Chief-Justice of Wales and Solicitoi"-Gcneral. In 1802, he entered Parlia^
ment, where he voted on the liberal side. In 1819, he was knighted and
pl-iced on the bench as one of the Justices of the King's Bench, and in 1824,
wns made Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, which he resigned in 1825,
when he was called to the House of Lords. He was a good advocate, a skil
ful lawyer, an indifferent legislator, an inconsistent politician, and occasionally
so partial on his summing-up as to be called the " Judge-Advocate." He was
voiy irritable while on the bench, owing to bodily disease. — M.

DUBLIN THEATEE EIOT. 279
no doubt, a habit that prevails there of speculating upon the
effects that particular individuals would produce, were they
only supplied with opportunities commensurate with their
powers. It was thus when the Queen's case was raging, that
thenational pride of the Irish bar broke out in vain regrets that
one of their Crown officers, a man of surpassing qualifications
for the conduct of such a cause, should not bave been afforded
such an opportunity of rising to the highest summit of what I
may call the conjectural fame that he enjoyed in his profession.
They pictured to themselves Charles Kendal Bushe, appearing
at the bar of the House of Peers, as the presiding counsel for
the Crown upon the trial of that imperial issue, and uniting
to every solid requisite for the discharge of such a duty, a
collection of peculiar attributes, that seemed as if expressly
-designed for swaying the decision of such a tribunal on such
an occasion. They saw him there with his matured profes
sional skill and chastened eloquence — his fine imposing pres
ence — his rich, sonorous voice — his masterly powers of coun
tenance, whether he spoke or li.stened — his profound, unre
mitting by-play, now refuting by an indignant start, now
enforcing by a moral shudder — his elevated courage, and nat
ural grace of gesture, tone, sentiment, and diction, in not one
of which the most finished courtier of them all could have
detected a provincialism. Considering all these, and the sub
ject, and the auditory, the admirers of this eminent and ac
complished person completed (and perhaps not unjustifiably)
the ideal picture, by representing to themselves as the final
issue, the torrent of popular indignation successfully stemmed,
and the imperial diadem wrested from the brow of the royal
defendant. %
A similar feeling prevailed among many with respect to Mr.
Wallace, upon the occasion of the only political case of any
moment that has in latter years occiu-red in Ireland — the
trial of the rioters at the Dublin theatre. It was one of the
singularities of that case, that the popular feeling was all on
the side of the prosecution, and that, with the exception of
the Attorney-General [Plunket], none of the counsel for the
Crown were animated by a warmer sentiment than a determi-

280 THOMAS WALLACE.
nation to perform an unwelcome duty. That duty the Solicitor-
General [Joy], who spoke to the evidence, performed with
legal ability and unquestioned integrity. No one could accuse
him of the insidious suppression of any doctrine or argument
that bore upon the case ; but it was impossible for him to be
eloquent. All his passions and prejudices were against his
cause, and he had not the flexibility of temper to assume a
tone of indignant energy of which he was unconscious. It is,
therefore, easy to account for the general wish that such a man
as Mr. Wallace had supplied his place. He would not have
allowed himself to have been entrammelled by any personal
or official restraints, but, giving the fullest scope to all his
powers, and superadding his authoritative denunciations as
an individual to his invectives as an advocate, would have
the jury feel (and this was what was wanted) that they were
themselves upon their trial, and must be held by the public to
be accomplices in the factious proceeding against which they
should hesitate to pronounce a verdict of conviction.
The personal determination of character and practical effi
ciency of talent for which Mr. Wallace is so distinguished,
have been confined almost exclusively to his professional exer
tions ; but the mention of those qualities brings to my recol
lection one rather memorable occasion upon which they were
called into action, and with a suddenness of result that can
not be duly appreciated by any who were not actual witnesses
of the scene. In the beginning of the year 1819, the friends
of the Catholic cause, considering that the time had arrived
when the sense of the Protestant inhabitants of the Irish
metropolis might be safely taken upon their question, deter
mined, after much anxious deliberation, that a public meeting
of that portion of the community should be convened for the
purpose of recording their sentiments in the form of a petition
to Parliament for Emancipation. Though pretty confident of
success, they foresaw that the Orange faction would rise en
masse, to interpose every kind of obstruction to so new and
obnoxious an experiment. To prevent this, or, at the worst,
to be prepared for it, preliminary measures were taken for
giving the proposed assemblage every possible degree of

¦ THE CATHOLIC MEETING. 281
popular, and even of aristocratic eclat. The attendance of the
Duke of Leinster and several other peers was secured. The
name of Grattan stood at the head of a list of patriotic com
moners. To these were added some leading men from the Bar,
and>many persons of opulence and weight from the commercial
classes. Such a mass of respectability, it was hoped, would protect
the meeting from any factious obstruction ; but among the
precautionary arrangements, there was one conspicuous nov
elty that inevitably provoked it. The Lord-Mayor of Dublin
(Alderman M'Kenny*), with a courage that did him infinite
honor, consented to call the meeting, and take the chair. The
Rotunda was fixed upon as the most convenient place for
assembling ; and it had the farther attraction of being, from
its associations with the memory of the old volunteers of Ire
land, a kind of consecrated ground for civil purposes. But
the offence was commensurate. That a chief magistrate of the
city of Dublin, the corporation's "own anointed," should be
so lost to all sense of monopoly and intolerance, as to give
the sanction of his presence at such a place, on such an occa
sion, was an innovation of too perilous example to pass
unpunished. The aklermanic body quivered with indigna
tion ; the Common Council foamed with no common rage ; the
corporate sensibilities of the minor guilds burst forth iu vows
and projects of active vengeance. Before the appointed day
arrived, it was matter of notoriety in Dublin, that a formidable
plan of counteraction had been matured, and was to be put
into execution.
On the morning of the meeting, some of the principal requi-
sitionists assembled at Charlemont house to make the necessary
arrangements for the business of the day. They continued
there until it was announced that the Lord-Mayor had aiTived,
and was ready to take the chair, when they proceeded through
the adjoining gardens of Rutland square, toward one of the
back-entrances of the Rotunda. There was something pecu
liarly dispiriting in their appearance, as they slowly and
' * Thomas M'Kenny, born July, 1770 ; created a baronet, September, 1831 ;
iied October, 1849.— M.

282 THOMAS WALLACE.
silently wound along the narrow walks, more like a funeral
procession than a body of men proceeding to bear a part in
a patriotic ceremony ; but every sentiment of popular ardor
was chilled by the apprehension that an effort, from which the
most beneficial results had been anticipated, might terminate
in a scene of disgraceful tumult.
Even the presence of Grattan, who was in the midst of them,
had lost its old inspiring influence. His name, his figure, his
venerable historic featiu-es, his very dress — a threadbare blue
surtout, of the old Whig-club uniform, buttoned closely up t6
the chin, and giving him something of the air of a veteran
warrior : all these recalled the great national scenes with
which his genius and fame were identified. But the more
vivid the recollection, the more powerful the present contrast.
The despondency of age and of declining health had rested
upon his countenance. Instead of the rapid and impatient
movements with which, in the daj'S of his pride and strength,
he had been wont to advance to the contest, launching de
fiance from his eye, and unconsciously muttering to himself,
as he paced along, some fragments of his impending har
angue, all was now tardiness, and silence, and quietude, even
to collapse.
As they approached the building, the cheerings of the multi
tude within burst forth through the open windows. The well-
known sound for a moment roused the veteran orator ; hut
the impression was evanescent. There was no w^ant of excite
ment in the spectacle within. Upon entering the grand roorii
of the Rotunda, they found about four thousand persons, the
majority of them red-hot Irish politicians, congregated within
its walls. The group I have described made their way to thfe
raised platform, upon which the Lord-Mayor had just taken
the chair, and where a vacant space upon his right had been
reserved for them. The left was occupied by a detachment
from the Corporation, headed by a formidable Alderman.
The Lord-Mayor opened the business of the day by reading
the requisition, and explaining his reasons for having ealled
the meeting. " Murmurs on the left," in the midst of which
up rose the leader of the civic host to commence the preeon-

A DISOEDEELT MEETING. 283
certed plan of operations. Without jireface or apology, he
called upon the chairman to dissolve the meeting. He cau
tioned him, as the preserver of the public peace, not to perse
vere in a proceeding so pregnant with dangers to the ti-anquil-
lity of the city. Let him only look at the assemblage before
iim, which had been most unadvisedly brought together under
the sanction of his name, and reflect, before it was too late,
upon the frightful consequences that must ensue, when their
passions should come to be heated by the discussions of topics
of the most irritating nature. Was it for this that the loyal
citizens of Dublin had raised him to his present high trust ? Was
it to preside over scenes of riot, perhaps of  " Here the
worthy alderman was interrupted, according to his expecta
tions, by tumultuous cries " to order." A friend from the left
rushed forward to sustain him ; a member of the opposite
party jumped upon the platform to call him to order, and was
in his turn called to order by a corporator.
Thus it continued until half a dozen questions of order were
at once before the chair, and as many personis simultaneously
bellowing forth their respective rights to an exclusive hearing.
To put an end to the confusion, the chairman consented to
take the sense of the meeting on a motion for an adjournment,
and having put the question, declared (as was the fact) that
an immense majority of voices was against it. This was de
nied by the left side, who insisted that regular tellers should
be appointed. A proposition, at once so unnecessary and im
practicable, revealed their real object, and was received with
bursts of indignation ; but they persevered, and a scene of ter
rific uproar ensued. It continued so loud and long, that those
who surrounded the chair became seriously alarmed for the
result. They saw before them four thousand persons, inflamed
by passion, and immured within a space from which a speedy
exit was impossible. In addition to the general excitation,
violent altercations between individuals were already commen
cing in remoter quarters of the meeting, and if a single blow
should be struck, the day must inevitably terminate in blood
shed. At this moment, when the tumult was at its height, two fig-

284 THOMAS WALLACE.
ures particularly attracted attention; — the first from its in
trinsic singularity — it was that of a noted city brawler (his
name I now forget) who had contrived to perch himself aloft
upon a kind of elevated -scaffolding that projected from the
loyal corner of the platform. He was a short, sturdy, half-
dwarfish, ominous-looking caitiff, with those peculiar propor
tions, as to both person and features, which, without being
actually deformed, seem barely to have escaped deformity.
There was a certain extra-natural lumpish confirmation about
his neck and shoulders, which gave the idea that the materials
composing them must have been originally intended for a
hump ; while his face was of that specific, yet non-descript
kind, which is vulgarly called a phiz — broad, flat, and sal
low, with glaring eyes, pug nose, thickish lips, and around
them a circle of jet-black (marking the region of the beard)
which neither razor nor soap could efface.
The demeanor of this phenomenon, who brandished a crab-
stick as notorious in Dublin as himself, and wore his hat -with
its narrow upturned brim inclined to one side (the Irish sym
bol of being ready for a row) was so impudent and gi'otesque
as to procure for him at intervals the undivided notice of the
assembly. His corporation friends let fiy a jest at him, and
were answered by a grin from ear to ear. This was sure to
be followed by a compact full-bodied hiss from another quar
ter of the meeting, and instantaneous was the transition in his
countenance, from an expression of buffoonish archness to one
of almost maniacal ferocity. This " comical miscreant,"* con
temptible as he would have been for any other purpose, proved
a most effective contributor to the scene of general disturb
ance. Apart, at the opposite extremity of the platform,, in
view of th,is portent, and exposed to his grimaces and ribald
vociferations, sat Henry Grattan, a silent and dejected spec
tator of the turmoil that raged around him. The contrast was
at once striking and afflicting, presenting, as it were, a visible
* This was a phrase taken from speeches and letters of O'Connell, in 1825,
during a dispute with Cobbett, in which a great deal of abuse passed on both
sides. O'Connell had rather the best of the quarrel, his vocabulary of stinging
objectives being very lai-ge indeed. — M.

HIS LITEEAET PUESUITS. 285
type of the condition of his country, in the triumph of vulgar
and fanatical clamor over all the efforts of a long life, exclu
sively devoted to her redemption.
But to resume: — Tbe confusion continued, and the symp
toms of impending riot were becoming momentarily more
alarming, when Mr. Wallace (to whom it is full time to return)
had the merit of averting such a crisis. In a short interval
of diminished uproar, one of the most prominent of the dis
turbers was again on his legs, and recommencing, for the tenth
or twentieth time, a disorderly address to the chair, when Mr.
Wallace, who had not previously interfered, started up from
his seat beside the chairman, advanced toward the speaker,
and called him to order. The act itself was nothing — the
tone and manner everything. There was in the latter a stern,
determined, almost terrific energy, which commanded imme
diate and universal silence. In a few brief sentences, he de
nounced the palpable design that had been formed to obstruct
the proceedings, exposed the illegal and indecent artifices that
had been resorted to, and insisted that the parties who were
dissatisfied with the decision of the chair on the question of
adjournment, should forthwith conform to the established usage
in such cases, and leave the room. The voice of authority,
and something more, in which this was said, produced the de
sired effect. The multitude shouted forth their approbation.
The civic chieftain, after performing astonishing feats of
aldermanship, judged it prudent to retire without a further
struggle. He was followed by his corps of discontents, about
fifty in number, and the business of the day, after a suspen
sion of two hours, proceeded without interruption.
Mr. Wallace is one among the few of the present leading
men at the Irish Bar, who have dedicated much time to liter
ary pursuits. His general reading is understood to be various
and extensive. In the year 1796, two years before he was
called to the Bar, he composed an essay on the variations, in
the prose style of tKe English language, from the period of the
Revolution, which obtained the gold medal prize of the Eoyal
Irish Academy. It is written with much elegance, is entirely
free from juvenile or national finery, and bears evident marks

286 . THOMAS WALLACE.
of those powers of discrimination which were afterward to pro
cure for the possessor more substantial results than academic
honors. In the same year he published a treatise of consider
able length upon the manufactures of Ireland. The latter I
have never seen, but I have heard an anecdote regarding it
which may be mentioned as illustrative of tbe purity with
which Irish academic justice was in those days administered.
It was originally composed, like the former, as a prize-essay.
The academy hesitated between it and the rival production
of one of their members, a Mr. Preston, and referred the decis
ion to a committee. The committee deputed the task to a
sub-committee, and the latter to three persons, of whom Mr.
Preston was one. The prize was accordingly adjudged to
that gentleman's production, and Mr. Wallace revenged him
self of the academy by publishing his work, and prefixing to
it a detailed account of the transaction.
In concluding my notice of this able person, I have only
to add, that if he should ever enter Parliament, it may
be safely predicted that his career there will be neither
" mute" nor " inglorious." His manliness, integrity, and de
termination, as well as his general talents, would be soon found
oirt in that assembly, and insure him upon all occasions a re
spectful hearing. The enlightened portion of the Irish admin
istration would find in him a strenuous supporter of no ordinary
value; and the country at large (independently of the benefit
of his other exertions) would have a security that no hackney
ed and scandalous misrepresentations of its condition, no matter
from whose lips they might come, would be allowed to pass
in his presence without peremptory contradiction and rebuke.

WEXFORD ASSIZES.
I AM an Irish Barrister, and go the Leinster Circuit.* I
keep a diary of extra-professional occurrences in this half-
yearly round, a sort of sentimental note-book, which I preserve
apart from the nisi prius adjudications of the going judges of
assize. In reading over my journal of the last Circuit, I find
much matter which with more leisure I could reduce into bet
ter shape. I shall content myself for the present with an
account of the last assizes, or rather of myself during the last
assizes of Wexford, presuming that I do little more than tran
scribe the record of my own feelings and observations from a
diary, to which, as I have intimated, they were committed
-without any intention that they should be submitted to the
public eye. This will account for the character of the inci
dents, and the want of classification in their detail.
I set off from Dublin on the 17th of July, 1835, in the mail-
coach. In England, a barrister is not permitted to travel in a
public vehicle, lest he should be placed in too endearing a
juxtaposition to an attorney. But in Ireland no such prohibi
tion exists ; and so little aristocracy prevails in our migrations
from town to town, that a sort of connivance has been ex
tended to the cheap arid rapid jaunting-cars, by which Signer
Bianconi (an ingenious Italian) has opened a communication
between almost all the towns in the south of Ireland.t Be it,
* Sheil, who went the Leinster Circuit, wore no disguise in this sketch,
^yhich he originally named, " Diary of a Barrister during the last Wexford
Assizes." — M.
t Charles Bianconi established a system of cheap and rapid travelling in Ire
land, on what are called Outside Jaunting-cars, which he spread all over the
countiy, firom 1823 until the advent of Railwayism, which has necessarily con-

288 WEXFOED ASSIZES.
however, remembered, that it was not in an Irish- vis-a-vis, that
I passed through the ancient city of Ferns. Doctor Elrington,
the present Bishop of Clogher, resides in its immediate vicin
ity ; his palace is visible from the road.
A word or two about the doctor.* He had been Provost of
Trinity College, and was raised to this important office by Mr.
Perceval, to whom he recommended himself by some mystical
lucubrations upon the piety, poverty, and simplicity of the Irish
Church. They were distinguished by a laborious flimsiness, and
exhibited a perfect keeping between the understanding of the
-writer and his heart : they smelt of a lamp which was fed with
rancid oil. The present Archbishop of Dublint had been the
competitor of Elrington for the first station of the University.
His eminent abilities gave him in his own opinion, and I
should add, in the judgment of the University, a paramount
claim. But at that time he had the plague-spot of liberality
in his character. The stain has been since effaced, but it was
still apparent when he presented himself to the Minister.
Doctor Magee used to give a somewhat amusing account
of his reception by the flippant personage who was then at the
head of the State. He threw out some broad hints as to the
principles in which the Protestant youth of Ireland ought to
be educated ; and said that the office had been given away.
tracted his operations. Public convenience and private economy were alike
served by Mr. Bianconi, who has made a large fortune, is now a Magistrate in
Tipperary (where he has purchased estates), and has served the office of Mayor
of Clonmell.— M.
* Dr. Elrington was a great pamphleteer, who distinguished himself by iUib
erality as Provost of Trinity College, Dublin, and took in a double supply, when
he became Bishop. He was reputed to be a good classical scholar. He was
father-in-law to Rev. Dr. M'Neile, of Liverpool. — M.
¦ t Dr. William Magee, born in 1765, was educated at Dublin University,
when he became Professor of Oriental languages. In 1806, he was a senior
fellow of the College, and, soon after Professor of Mathematics. After being
successively Dean of Cork and Bishop of Raphoe, he was made Archbishop
of Dublin in 1822. His chief literaiy work, published in 1801, was on the
subject of The Atonement — on this, which obtained great popularity,- he at
tacked Unitarianism with Orthodox zeal, acuteness, and I'earning. He became
strongly anti-Catholic in poHtics after his last preferment, and disappointed
the hopes which arose out of his previous moderation. Archbishop Magee
died in 1831, aged sixty-six. — M.

SPENCEE PEECEVAL. 289
" Let me see" (said Mr. Perceval, in the Doctor's description),
"let me see — yes, his name is Doctor Elrington, I have his
pamphlets upon tithes ; he has demonstrated their divine
origin. How much such men are wanted in these dangerous
times !"* The mistake made by the Minister in pronouncing
the name of his successful rival (which he hardly knew), pro
duced an increased secretion of gall in the Doctor, to which
he used to give vent in many a virulent gibe. At this time he
was Mr. Plunket's friend, and his own enemy. But Perceval's
admonition was not lost upon him. He perceived that he had
taken a wrong course, and, selecting his competitor as his
example, speedily improved upon his model. But let him
pass. Doctor Elrington, while a fellow of the college, published
an edition of Euclid. A schoolboy might have given it to the
world. But such is the state of the Irish Protestant Univer
sity, that by constituting an exception to the habits of intel
lectual sloth which prevail over that opulent and inglorious
corporation, even an edition of Euclid confers upon a fellow of
the university a comparative title to respect.
When Provost, he was a rigid disciplinarian. He attracted
public attention by two measures : he suppressed the Histori-
* Spencer Perceval, son of the Earl of Egmont, was bom in 1762, practised
as a Chancery barrister, and was brought into Parliament by Mr. Pitt. He
became leading Counsel on the Midland Circuit. When Pitt was about fight
ing a duel with Mr. Tierney, he told Lord Harrowby that, if he fell, Perceval
was the most competent person to succeed him as Prime Minister and opponent
to Fox — an opinion of his powers few else have held. Li 1801, he became
Solicitor-General under Addington's Ministry, resigned office on Pitt's death,
and became Prime Minister on the death of the Duke of Portland in 1807,
which was on May 11, 1812, when he was shot through the heart, iif the lobby
of the House of Commons, by a madman named Bellingham, who was tried,
condemned, and executed. On his death an annuity of two thousand pounds
sterling a year was voted to his wife and fifty thousand pounds sterling for her
twelve children ; the lady married again, with very little delay. Perceval,
with an admirable private character (which made Moore write on his death,
" We forgot in that hour how the statesman had erred.
And we wept for the father, the husband, the friend"),
was intolerant in politics and religion. Dying as -he did, by the violent Imnd
of an assassin, even his opponents mourned for him — M.
Vol. I.— 13

290 WJCXFOED ASSIZES.
cal Society, and issued a proclamation against witchcraft.
Special orders were given by the Doctor against the raising
of the Devil. The library of Trinity College is filled with
books of necromancy ; and, apprehending that the students
might be reduced into a commerce with the Fiend, the Doctor
gave peremptory directions, that the ponderous and worm-
eaten repertories of the Black art should not be unclasped. A
scholar of the house, who appears to have had a peculiar predi
lection for the occult sciences, complained of the restraint which
the Doctor had taken upon himself to put upon his intercourse
with the " Prince of the Air," and called the former to account
in a visitation, at which Lord Chief-Justice Downes (not very
appropriately) presided, as the representative of His Royal
Highness the Duke of Cumberland.* I do not recollect the
decision of his Lordship upon this important question, but, if I
may be allowed to conjecture from his intellectual habits, I
can not help suspecting that any appeal to the statutes of
James I. must have been conclusive, in his mind, in favor of
the injunction against sorcery. Shortly after this exploit
against the Devil, the Doctor was I'Sised to the see of Limerick,
and upon the detection of his sanctimonious and detestable
predecessor,! he was promoted to the bishopric of Clogher. He
resides in a noble palace, which arrests the attention of the
traveller in his way to Wexford, and affords an illustration of
that apostolic poverty, in which the teachers of the reformed
religion embody its holy precepts.
Wexford is a very ancient town. It was formerly sur
rounded by walls, a part of which continue standing. They
are mantled with ivy, and are rapidly mouldering away;
but must once have been of considerable strength. The
remains of an old monastery are situate at the western gate.
* The Duke of Cumberland, fifth son of George IH., succeeded to the Crown
of Hanover, in 1837, on the death of William I^V., and died in 1851. In Eng
land he was extremely unpopular, but the Hanoverians liked and regretted him.
He was elected Chancellor of Trinity College, Dublin, in 1805, and for many
years Grand Master of the Orangemen of Great Britain and Ireland.— M.
t Percy Jocelyn,|son of the Earl of Roden, was Bishop of Clogher, and was
deposed by his clergy, in 1824, for having been detected in the commiasion of
an unnatural crime. — M. f

THE OLD MONASTERr. 291
By a recent order of vestry (at which Catholics are not per
mitted to vote), a tax was laid on the inhabitants for the
erection of a new church upon the site of the monastic ruin.
Upon entering Wexford I missed a portion of the old build
ing. I walked into its precincts, and found that some of
the venerable arches of the ancient edifice had been thrown
down, to make way for the modern structure. The work of
devastation had been going on among the residences of the
dead. A churchyard encompasses these remains of Christian
antiquity ; and I observed that many a grave had been torn
up, in order to make a foundation for the new Protestant
church. The masons who had been at work the preceding
day, had left some of their implements behind them. To
behold the line and the trowel in the grave, would be at any
time a painful spectacle ; but this violation of the departed
becomes exasperating to our passions, as well as offensive to
our religious sentiments, when it is occasioned by an invasion
of the ancient and proper demesne of the almost universal
faith of the people. Fragments of white bones had been
thrown up, and lay mingled with black mould upon the green
hillocks of the adjoining dead. " Why should not that be
the skull of an Abbot 1" I exclaimed, as I observed the frag
ments of a huge head which had been recently cast up : " little
did he think, that, in the very sanctuary of his monastic splen
dor, he should ever be ' twitched about the sconce' by a rude
heretical knave, and that a Protestant shovel should deal such
profanation upon a head so deeply stored with the subtilties of
Scotus, and the mysteries of Aquinas !"
After passing some minutes in " chewing the cud of these
bitter fancies," I became weary of my meditations among the
dead, and strolled toward the Quay of Wexford, upon which
both chm'ch and chapel had poured out all their promiscuous
contents. Here was a large gathering of young damsels, who,
after having gone through their spiritual duties, came to per
form the temporal exercises of an Irish Sabbath. There was
a great display of Wexfordian finery. The women of Wexford
of the better class have, in general a passion for dress, to which
I have heard that they sacrifice many of their domestic com-

292 WEXFOED ASSIZES.
forts. This little town is remarkable for a strange effort at
saving and display. It is not uncommon to see ladies, who
reside in small and indifferently furnished lodgings, issuing
from dark and contracted lanes in all the splendor which mil
linery can supply. This tendency to extravagance in dress is
the less excusable, because Nature has done so much for their
faces and persons, as to render superfluous the efforts of Art.
The lower, as well as higher classes, are conspicuous for beauty.
There are two baronies in this county, in one of which the
towii is situate, the inhabitants of which are descended from a
colony planted by the first English settlers, who never having
intermingled their blood with the coarser material of the coun
try, have retained a perfectly characteristic physiognomy, and
may be distinguished at a glance from the population of the
adjoining districts. The Irish face, although full of shrewd
ness and vivacity, is deficient in proportion and grace. Before
you arrive in Wexford, in traversing the craggy hills which
overhang it, you meet with countenances at every step, which
are marked by a rude energj^ and a barbarous strength.
Thix)ugh the clouds of smoke that rolls from the doors of a
hovel of mud, you may observe the face of many an Hibernian
damsel, glowing with a ruddy and almost too vigorous health,
made up of features whose rudeness is redeemed by their flex
ibility and animation, with eyes full of mockery and of will, and
lips that seem to provoke to an encounter in pleasantry, for
which they are always prepared. The dress of the genuine
Irish fair is just sufficient to conceal the more sacred of their
symmetries, but leaves the greater portion of their persons in a
state of brawny and formidable nudity. But when you de
scend from the hills to the eastern coast, you are immediately
struck with a total dissimilarity of look, and can not fail to
notice a peciiliarly English aspect.
I am disposed to think the young women of the lower class
in the baronies of Forth and Bargy, even more graceful and
feminine than the most lively of the English peasantry, whom
I have ever had occasion to notice. Their eyes are of deep
and tender blue, their foreheads are high and smooth, their
cheeks have a clear transparent color, and a sweetness of

THE WEXFOED PEASANTET. 293
expression sits on their full fresh lips, which is united with
perfect modesty, and renders them objects of pure and respect
ful interest. They take a special care of their persons, and
exhibit that tidiness and neatness in their attire, for which
their English kindred are remarkable. I have often stopped
to observe a girl from the barony of Forth, in the market of
Wexford, with her basket of eggs or chickens for sale, and
wished that I were an artist, in order that I might preserve
her face and figure. Her bonnet of bright and well-plaited
straw just permitted a few bright ringlets to escape upon her
oval cheek : over her head was thrown a kerchief of muslin to
protect her complexion from the sun. Her cloak of blue cloth,
trimmed with gray silk, hung gracefully from her shoulders.
Her boddice was tightly laced round a graceful and symmetri
cal person. Her feet were compressed in smart and well-
polished shoes ; and as she held out her basket to allure you
into a purchase of her commodities, her smile, with all its win-
ningness, was still so pure, that you did not dare to wish that
she should herself be thrown into the bargain.
It is clear that the peasantry of these districts are a superior
and better-ordered tribe. Industry and morality prevail among
them. Crime is almost unknown in the baronies of Forth and
Bargy. The English reader will probably imagine that they
must be Protestants. On the contrary, the Roman Catholic
religion is their only creed, and all efforts at proselytism have
wholly failed. It has often been considered as singular that
the Irish rebellion should have raged with such fierceness
among this moral and pacific peasantry. Some are disposed
to refer the intensity of their political feelings to their attach
ment to the Catholic religion ; but I believe that the main
cause of the temporary ferocity into which they were excited,
and in the indulgence of which they for a while threw off all
their former habits, had its origin from the excesses of which a
licentious soldiery were guilty, and that the dishonor of their
wives and daughters impelled them to revenge and blood.
I have extended my description of the inhabitants of these
two Saxon districts (for they may be so called) beyond the
limits I had proposed. But I write in a desultory fashion, upon

294 WEXFOED ASSIZES.
matters which are in themselves somewhat unlinked together
While I was wandering up and down the quay of Wexford,
and, after having fed my eyes to satiety, was beginning to yield
to the spirit of oscitation which is apt to creep upon a lawyer
on the sabbath, a gentleman had the goodness to invite me to
accompany him up the river Slaney, to a fine wood upon the
banks of the stream, where he proposed that his party should
dine upon the refreshments with which his barge was copiously
stored. I gladly took advantage of this very polite invitation ;
the wind was favorable, and wafted us along the smooth and
glassy stream with a rapid and delightful motion. The banks
are remarkable for their beauty. On the right hand, as you
proceed up the river, the seat of the La Hunt family offers a
series of acclivities covered with thick and venerable wood.
The temperature of the air is so soft, and the aspect so much
open to the mid-day sun, that shrubs which are proper to south
ern latitudes grow in abundance in these noble plantations.
At every turn of the stream, which winds in a sheet of sUver
through a cultivated valley, landscapes worthy of the pencil
of Gainsborough or of Wilson are disclosed. Castles, old
Danish forts, the ruins of monasteries, and, I should add, the
falling halls of absentees, appear in a long succession upon both
sides of the stream.
I was a good deal struck with a little nook, in which a beau
tiful cottage rose out of green trees, and asked who was the
proprietor. It had been built, it seems, by Sir H. Bate Dud
ley, the former proprietor of the " Morning Herald," who re
sided for some time upon a living given to him in this diocese.
I was informed that he was respected by all classes, and he-
loved by the poor.* His departure ^Yas greatly regretted.
Not far from Sir H. Bate Dudley's cottage is the residence of
Mr. Devereux, of Carrick Nana. He is said to be descended
* Henry Bate Dudley (born 1754, died 1824) was a clergyman, who spent
most of his time iu literaiy, political, and convivial society, and (despite his
sacred profession) fought several duels 1 He wrote some plays, and found
ed two daily newspapers yet published in London — the Morning Post and the
Morning Herald. He was made a baronet and obtained valuable church pre
ferment from the influence these Journals gave him.  M.

A PIC-NIC IN THE WOODS. 295
from a brother of William the Conqueror, and certainly belongs
to one of the most ancient families in Ireland. The political
race of this gentleman is so honorably ardent, that he has gone
to the expense of collecting portraits of all the parliamentary
friends of Emancipation, and devoted a gallery to the purpose.
After passing his seat, we sa-w; Mount Leinster, towering iri
all its glory before us, with the sun descending upon its peak.
Having reached the point of our destination, we landed in a
deep and tangled wood, and sat down to dinner in a cave
which overhangs the stream. While we were sitting in this
spot, which I may justly call a romantic one, a sweet voice
rose from the banks beneath, in the music of a melancholy air.
It was what I once heard a poor harper call " a lonesome air."
I do not know whether certain potations compounded of a liquor
which, in our love of the figurative, we have called " mountain
dew," might not have added to the inspiration of the melody.
When it ceased, we proceeded to discover the fair vocalist who
had uttered such dulcet notes, and whom one of us compared
to the lady in " Comus." What was our disappointment, when,
upon approaching the spot from which the music had proceed
ed, we found an assembly of Sabbatarian wassailers, who gave
vent to a loud and honest laugh as we arrived 1 The echoes
took up their boisterous merriment,- which reverberated through
the woods and hills. The songstress who had so enchanted us
was little better than a peasant-girl.
These good people, who were sitting in a circle round a huge
jug of punch, had resolved to participate in the beauty of Na
ture, of which we are all tenants in common, and, like ouj-selves,
had roved out from the town to dine in the wood. They en
tered th.eir boat at the same time that we pushed off from the
bank, and accompanied us. It was now evening. The broad
water was without a ripple. The sun had gone down behind
Mount Leinster, and a rich vermilion was spread over the vast
range of lofty and precipitous hills that bound the western
horizon. The night was advancing from the east, toward which
our boats were rapidly gliding. The woods which hang upon
the banks, had thrown their broad shadows across the stream.
We reached the narrow pass where the remains of a palace of

296 WEXFOiS) ASSIZES.
King John, which is still called " Shaun's Court," stand upon
the river, while the Tower of Fitzstephen rises upon the other
bank. This was the first hold raised by the English upon
their landing. It is built on a rock, and commands the gorge
in which the Slaney is at this point narrowly compressed.
While our barge was carried along the dark water, the fair
vocalist, who was in the other boat, was prevailed upon to sing
an Irish melody : our oars were suspended. Without any
knowledge of music, she possessed a fine voice, and was not
destitute of feeling. She selected an old Irish air, to which
Moore has appropriateJy allied the misfortunes of Ireland.
Wexford is the birthplace of the poet ;* and as his beautiful
words passed over the waters, I could not avoid thinking that
in his boyhood he must often have lingered amidst the hills
which surrounded us, in whicli the liveliness of Nature is asso
ciated with so many national recollections. It is not impossi
ble that his mind may have taken its first tinge from these
scenes, which it is difficult for even an ordinary person to con
template without a mournful emotion. The enchanting melan
choly of the air, which is commonly called " The Coulin,'' and
which was sweetly and inartificially sung, went deeply into
our hearts.! The impression left by the poetry and the music,
which were so well assisted by a beautiful locality, did not
soon pass away.
While our spirits were still under the influence of the feel
ings which had been called forth by these simple means, the
lights of the town of Wexford were descried. As we ap
proached, I perceived the arches of the bridge, which stretches
its crazy length from the town to the opposite side of the river.
It was upon that bridge that the infuriated insurgents, upon
becoming masters of Wexford, collected their prisoners, and
murdered them in what I was going to call cold blood : but the
* This is an error. Thomas Moore's " old gouty grandfather, Tom Codd"
(as mentioned iu the poet's auto-biography) lived in the Corn Mai'ket, Wex
ford, aad Moore himself states that his birth occurred on the 28th May, 1779,
at No. 12 Aungier street, Dublin. Ho died at Sloperton Cottage, Wiltshire,
England, on Feb. 26, 1852.— M.
t The beautiful Melody alluded to, is that commencing " Though the last
glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see." — M.

THE EEIDGE CF WEXFOED. 297
phrase would be an inappropriate one. The passions of the
people, which had been heated to the utmost intensity in the
course of that frightful contest, had not lost their rage at the
time that they were guilty of that terrific slaughter.
A gentleman who sat by my side had attested most of the
events to which I am alluding. As we neared the memorial
of that horrible event (for the bridge of Wexford has almost
become impassable, and scarcely serves any other purpose than
that of preserving the recollection of the sanguinary misdeeds
enacted upon it), I inquired the details of the massacre. He
told me that some ninety persons, of both sexes, were placed
by the rebels upon the bridge ; that their fate was intimated
to them ; and that they were desired to prepare for death.
The Catholic clergy interposed, without effect. The insurgents
were bent upon revenge for the wrongs which most of them had
individually sustained, and ferociously appealed to the blood
upon their own doors in vindication of what they had resolved
to perpetrate. Their unfortunate victims fell upon their knees,
and cried out for mercy. " You showed it not to our children,"
was the answer ; and to such an answer no replication can be
given in a civil war. At the appointed moment, the gates of
the bridge were thrown open, and the work of death was al
most instantaneously completed.
We had now approached sufficiently near the bridge to per
ceive its mouldering timbers with distinctness, and to hear the
plash of the waters against its rotten planks. I am not guilty
of any affectation when I say that the sound was peculiarly
dismal. The continuous dash of the wave at all times (what
ever be the cause, and I leave it to metaphysicians to assign
it) disposes the mind to a mournful mood. Perhaps it is that
the rush of water, of which we are warned by its momentary
interruption, suggests the ideas of transitoriness, and presents
an image of the fleeting quality of our existence. But there
was something in the sound of the river, as it broke upon the
piles of decayed and bending timber that sustain the bridge
of Wexford, of a peculiarly melancholy and more than com
monplace kind. I could not help thinking, as I surveyed that
decayed but still enduring fabric (why does not the tide wash
13*

298 WEXFOED ASSIZES.
it into the sea ?), that upon those shattered boards, and weed-
mantled planks, there had been many a wretch who clung with
a desperate tenacity for a little longer life, until a thrust of
the insurgent's pike loosened the grasp of agony, and the
corpse, after whirling for a moment in the eddies beneath, was
wafted into the ocean, and became the sea-bird's perch.
Such were the feelings with which I could not help looking
upon this memorial of the shame and disasters of my country.
A few days after, there occurred in this very spot a scene
which tended rather to rivet than to weaken the political inter
est with which the bridge of Wexford ought to be surveyed.
Mr. O'Connell was brought as special counsel to Wexford :
the people determined to pay him all the honors which it was
in their power to bestow.
It was decided that an aquatic procession, if I may use the
phrase, should meet him at Fitzstephen's Tower, and that he
should be attended by the citizens from the ground where the
English had fixed the foundations of their dominion. The
Counsellor was accordingly met, at the pass which I have de
scribed, by a fleet of boats, and was forced to step into a trium
phal barge, manned by the choicest rowers that could be procured.
They were dressed in green jackets lined with gold. A large
flag of the same emblematical color, with a harp without a
crown, floated from the stern. An immense multitude were
assembled upon the banks, and a vast number of boats crowd
ed the river. The Counsellor entered the patriotic barge with
a show of reluctance, and took his seat. Three cheers were
given. " Considunt rastris ; intentaque brachia remis :
Intenti expectant signum, exsultantiaque haunt
Corda pavor pulsans, laudumque onesta cupido.
Inde, ubi clara dedit sonitum tuba, finibus omnes
Hand mora, prosiluere suis : ferit s'thera clamor
Nauticus : adductis spumant freta versa lacertis."
The spectacle exhibited in Wexford upon this occasion was
a striking one. The whole Catholic population poured forth
to greet Mr. O'Connell, and thousands gathered upon the quay
and bridge of Wexford to hail his arrival. The Protestants,

CHIEF- JUSTICE BOSHE. 299
?
who find in every incident of this kind an association with the
events of 1798, stood with an expression of deep and angry
gloom in the midst of all the turbulent exultation of their
Popish fellow-citizens. I observed groups of silent and scowl
ing men, whose physiognomies did not permit me to doubt
their reUgion. They muttered a few words to each other, and
seemed to gripe their hands as if they felt the yeoman's sabre
already in their grasp. The Catholics were either heedless
of their anger, or derided its impotence. They were assem
bled in vast numbers upon the bridge, which tottered beneath
their weight. At length the Counsellor's barge came in sight.
A cheer followed every stroke of the oar, and at length he
reached the point selected for his reception in the city, and
stepped from his barge upon the bridge, which, I suppose, in
the eyes of the Protestant portion of the spectators, grew red
beneath his footsteps. In their disturbed imaginations every
footprint was marked with blood.
The assizes opened upon Tuesday, the 19th July, 1825.
The judges were the Chief-Justice of the King's Bench, and
Mr. Justice Johnson, judge of the Court of Common Pleas. The
former regularly goes the Leinster circuit ; some of his imme
diate friends and kindred are upon it. Charles is the name
of the Chief-Justice, and the constellated lights, by wliich he
is surrounded, bave been called his " wain." It is natural
that a feeling of disrelish for this undeviating adherence to
Leinster should exist at tbe Bar, and it is equally natural that
Chief-Justice Bushe should disregard it. The ancient re.Bi-
dence of his family (which settled in Ireland in the reign of
Charles the Second) is situate in the county of Kilkenny. It
is for many reasons most dear to him. His attachment to Ihis
domestic spot does not arise from a mere idle pride of honora
ble birth, but takes its origin in a most noble action. Although
not bound to do so, he sold his paternal property to pay his
father's debts, repurchased it with the profits of his industry
and his genius, and now holds the estate of his forefathers by
a better title than descent.
Lord Redesdale's nephew, Mr. Mitford, who was deposited
in Ireland by his able uncle, has a great talent for drawing.

300 WEyrOKD ASSIZES.
One of his best pictures hangs over the chimney of the prin
cipal room at Kilmurry (the seat of the Chief- Justice) and
appropriately represents Sterne's story of "The Sword." The
subject was felicitously chosen.* It is impossible that the
Chief-Justice should not feel a strong attachment fo a mansion
which affords an evidence at once of his genius and of his vir
tues ; and it would be strange if he did not exercise the priv
ilege of selection -which belongs to his judicial rank in favor
of a circuit upon which bis own property is situate, in almost
immediate contiguity to every town in which it is his office to
preside. It is also to be observed, that in Kilkenny he is en
compassed by his own near associates and friends ; and it is
but a just indulgence in a sentiment of virtuous pride, that he
should desire to exercise his high functions among those who
experience an unaffected pleasure at witnessing the elevation
which he has attained.
With re,spect to the imputed charge of favoritism, the per
sons who are most disposed to find fault with this eminent in
dividual, can not point out any specific instance in which,
from a partiality to the advocate he has manifested the least
bias toward the client ; and if suitors, upon a calculation of the
general frailty of our nature, should indulge in the hope that
the leaning of the judge is to be secured by employing the
supposed object of his predilection, it were too much to expect
that he should offer a homage to suspicion, and, by giving
way to it, yield to a certain extent an acquiescence in its jus
tice. For my own part, I am not at all disposed to attach
blame to him for persevei-ing in his uniform adoption of their
'same circuit, as long as judges are permitted by the law to do
so. Why should a peculiar exception be made against him?
Other judges are equally constant in their local likings, and
yet no complaints are made against them.
* In " The Sentimental Journey through Fiance and Italy.'' It is a beauti
ful episode, and few descriptions have as much simple pathos as this which
brings before us the Marquis, who had depo.^ited his sword, with the States of
Rennes, in Brittany, returning after twenty years' pursuit of wealth, in com
merce, to reclaim the weapon and rebuild the broken fortunes of his ancient
house. — M.

CHIEF-JUSTICE BUSHE. 301
In England, too, judges are in the habit of going the same
circuit without incurring the popular displeasure. While the
law stands as it does, no complaint can justly be made of any
individual for consulting his own convenience in these regards.
It might, however, be matter for consideration, whether the
statute which prevented judges from presiding in their own
counties, ought not to be re-enacted. That statute which was
repealed in Ireland, at the instance, it is said, of the ex-Judge
Day,* who was fond of the picturesque, and wishing to visit
the Lakes of Killarney twice a year, expressed a solicitude to
preside at the assizes of Kerry. Such a wish, when the Union
was in concoction, was not to be disregarded. How far it is
contrary to public policy to allow of this perpetual return of
the same judge to the same circuit, admits of doubt. It is
hard for a man of the purest mind to divest himself of precon
ceptions, formed by intimate and reiterated observation. A
judge is apt to take local views where he contracts topical
connections, and may consider it necessary to administer jus
tice with more rigor in districts with the habits of criminality
of which he may have acquired a peculiar intimacy. A
stronger anxiety for the suppression of atrocities in his own
immediate vicinage is almost inevitable. Offences committed
at our own door appear not only more formidable, but enor
mous. The blood spattered at our very threshold, leaves be
hind it a deeper die.
It is, however, but just to add, that if there be any judge,
from whose constant attendance of the Leinster circuit, not
only no positive evil, but an actual benefit arises, it is Charles
Kendal Bushe. As far as my observation extends, he is per
fectly impartial. The rank or the religion of parties has no
sort of weight with him ; and to every case, whatever may be
the circumstances attending it, he gives an equal and un
biased hearing. His attention to the interests of the lower
orders, evinced by the extraordinary solicitude with which he
investigates their rights in the trial of civil bill appeals, is
above all praise. It was formerly usual to hear civil bills at
the close of the assizes of Clonmel ; and the persons interested,
* Judge Day, of liberal politics, was a very intimate' friend of Grattan. — M.

302 WEXFOED ASSIZES.
who are almost always of the humbler class, were kept in
anxious and expensive attendance for a whole week upon the
court. Poor creatures, whose very being was involved in the
result of their appeals, were assembled in a dismal gathering
in the town, and, before their causes were heard, had expended
nearly the whole amount of the sum decreed again,5t them, in
awaiting the capricious pleasure of the judge to reverse the
sentence of the inferior tribunal. When this branch of busi
ness was called on, the judge was generally impatient to leave
the town, and hurried with a careless precipitation through
matters which, ho-wever insignificant in the mind of the weal
thiest suitor, were of permanent moment to the wretched peas
ants who flocked to the assizes for redress. The Chief-Justice
has reformed those crj'ing abuses, and devotes as much consid
eration to the trial of minor cases as to causes of the greatest
magnitude. He has, by introducing this practice, which
could not have been established by him without a continued
selection of the circuit, conferred signal advantages upon the
public. With respect to the interests of the Bar, although some of
his more immediate friends are supposed to derive a benefit
from his countenance, it should be remembered, in the first
place, that they are persons of high merit ; and it should not
be forgotten, that to every member of the Bar the Chief-Justice
is so undeviatingly polite, that no individual can justly tax
him with having done him any immediate wrong. I am much
inclined to think, that there is great exaggeration in the esti'
mate of those advantages supposed to arise from the favor of
any judge; and even if I were disposed to accord in the opin
ion, that individuals can be indebted for any essential portion
of their success to the influence of the judicial smile, the ac
complished manners, the liberal and enlightened spirit, the
great endowments, and the patient industry, of the Chief-
Justice, would outweigh, in my mind, every inferior and per
sonal consideration.
Mr. Justice Johnson was joined with the Chief-Justice in
the commission. He is tbe brother of the ex-judge of that
name, who wrote the celebrated letters of Juverna, and who

JUDGE JOHNSON. 303
is justly accounted one of the ablest men in Ireland.* The
two brothers are men of eminent talents, but wholly dissimilar
in character. The political writer is calm, ironical, biting, and
sarcastic, and uses shafts of the finest temper, steeped in
venom. Tho present judge is vehement, impetuous, frank,
and vigorous ; and while the one shoots his finely-feathered
arrows, the other -s\'hirls about a massive and roughly-knotted
club. He is warm and excitable, and effervesces in an instant.
This suddenness has its origin in the goodness of his nature.
If he suspects collusion or fraud, or gets the least hint of
baseness in any transaction, he immediately takes fire. In
these moods of explosive honesty, there is something formida
ble to a person who does not know that the ebullitions of integ
rity subside as rapidly as they break out ; and that, with all
these indications of angry temperament, he is in reality a kind
and tractable man. At the same time we must beware of wan
tonly provoking him. " Noli irritare leonem," is a precept
which the contemplation of his countenance has sometimes
recalled to me. His deep voice that issues upon a hunter of
subtleties in a roar, his broad and massive face, a pair of pon
derous brows that overhang his flashing eyes, a certain shaggi-
ness of look, and a start of the whole body with which he
* There were two Johnsons, William and Robert, sons of an apothecary in
Dublin. Both became Judges. Robert, a puisne in the Common Pleas, wrote
a paper, published by Cobbett, against Lord Redesdale, on circumstances con
nected with Emmett's trial. This paper was considered a libel, and O'Grady,
then Attorney-General, proceeded against Johnson. After a world of argu
ment. Judge Johnson was actually kidnapped, conveyed from Ireland to Eng
land, tried for t he libel, convicted, and proceedings stopped on condition of his
resigning his Judgeship, which he did — receiving twelve hundred pounds
sterling annual pension for life. Curran was his Counsel in Ireland, and in a
speech in this case he appealed to Lord Avonmore, who presided, in the name
of their early friendship, and the happy hours they had passed together. Quo
ting from Cowley, he said —
* We spent them not in toys, or lust, or wine ;
But search of deep philosophy.
Wit, eloquence, and poesy —
Arts which I loved ; for they, my friend ! were thine."
There had been a coolness between them, but Avonmore sent for Curran, when
the Court rose, threw himself into liis arms, while his eyes were yet wet -with
tears, and they were friends again. — M.

304 WEXFOED ASSIZES.
erects himself, suggest the image of that "fine animal" to my
mind. This learned and excitable person, with all this sudden
ness of emotion, is extremely good and kind-hearted ; and,
although he may now and then say a rough thing, never aims
a deliberate blow at the feelings or reputation of any man.
As a criminal judge, he is truly merciful and compassionate ;
and as a civil one, is learned, sagacious, and acute. In the
Court of Common Pleas, he exhibits much more irritability
than upon circuits. He is exasperated by the wittieisms of
Lord Norbury, who says that his brother is like a young horse,
and wishes to draw the entire coach himself. To adopt his
lordship's illustration, it must be owned that he kicks and
plunges when yoked with " that gallant gray," but pulls single
exceedingly well.
No trial of any very considerable interest, except that of the
action of Nunn against Wyse, which has been detailed in the
English papers, occurred during the last assizes : but, in look
ing over my diary, I find a sketch which I made at the time
of a very important case, which was tried by Judge Johnson
during a preceding circuit, and which it may gratify the curi
osity of the English reader to have transcribed. I allude to
the prosecution of Father Carroll, the Wexford priest, who
killed a child in a fit of insanity, under circumstances which
greatly excited the public attention.
This unfortunate man, for he deserves no harsher appella
tion, had from his childhood a strong predisposition to insanity.
It was with great difficulty that he succeeded in obtaining ordi
nation. His aberrations from reason, before they amounted to
actual madness, were connected with the subject of exorcism ;
and although every person to whom he addressed his argu
ments in favor of the expulsion of devils, smiled at his extrav
agance, they still could not help acknowledging that he argaed
with subtilty upon wrong premises, and confessed that his
applications of various passages in the holy writings were
ingenious, however mistaken. It was in vain that Father Car
roll was told that the power of Satan to possess himself of
human bodies ceased with the revelation of Christian truth.
He appealed to the Acts of the Apostles, and to incidents sub-

FATHEE CAEEOLl's TEIAL. 30-5
sequent to the death of our Savior, to establish his favorite
speculation. A medical man, with whom he was intimate,
perceived that the subject had laid such a hold upon his natu
rally excitable imagination, that he resorted to sedative med
icines, to avert the progress of au incipient malady to which
he had an organic predisposition. As long as he followed his
physician's advice, he abstained from any acts of a very ex
travagant nature ; but unhappily, before the events took place
which formed the ground of a capital prosecution, he neg
lected to take his usual preventives, and became utterly de
ranged. He suddenly fancied himself endowed with supernatural
authority. This fantastic notion seized upon him in the midst
of divine service; after the wild performance of which, he
rushed into the public road that led from the chapel to his
house, in search of an object for the manifestation of his mira
culous powers. He was informed that a laborer by the name
of Neill was confined by illness to his bed; and being con
vinced that he was possessed by an evil spirit, proceeded to
effect the removal of the enemy. His singular demeanor at
tracted the attention of the passengers, who followed him to
Neill's cottage; which he had no sooner entered than he pre
cipitated himself upon the sick man, and began his miraculous
operations with marvellous vigor. A severe pommelling was
the process of exorcism which he regarded as most effectual.
This he put into immediate and effectual practice. Neill did
not attempt to resist this athletic antagonist of the devil. The
Unhappy gentleman had determined to take Beelzebub by
storm. After a long assault, he succeeded in this strange
achievement, and having informed the astonished bystanders
that he had taken the enemy prisoner, announced that he
should give him no quarter, but plunge him into the Red Sea.
The manner of this aquatic ceremony was described by one
of the witnesses, who endeavored to illustrate it by his gesture.
After uttering various cabalistic words, he whirled himself in
a rapid rotation, with his arms outstretched, and then, suddenly
pausing, and raising himself into an attitude of importance
befitting his new authority, advanced with one arm a-kimbo,

306 WEXFOED ASSIZES.
and with the other extended, looking, as the witness expressed
it, " as if he held the devil by the tail," and marched with a
measured pace and a mysterious aspect, to a bridge upon the
river Slaney, where he buried the captive demon in what he
took for the Red Sea.
Not contented with this exploit, he exclaimed that Neill had
seven more devils, which he was determined to expel from this
peculiar object of diabolical predilection. Tbe operation was
accordingly repeated with such success, that Neill, after much
strenuous expostulation, leaped out of his bed, and exclaimed
that he was quite well. This circumstance produced a deep
impression upon the crowd, among whom there were some
Protestants ; and two of the latter, a Mrs. Winter and her
daughter, knelt down, and called upon ,the Lord to assist
Father Carroll in the perpetration of the next miracle, which,
encouraged by their pious sympathies, he almost immediately
proceeded to commit. A poor woman happened to pass along
the road, whom he had no sooner observed than he knocked
her down, and pursued a mode of exorcism similar to that
which I have described, with such effect, that one of the spec
tators cried out for the people to make way, " as he saw the
devU coming out."
This achievement only served to excite the wretched maniac,
and impel him to another undertaking of the same kind. He
insisted " that the devil had taken possession of Sinot's child."
The circumstances which I have detailed, and by no means
endeavored to exaggerate, would be merely ridiculous if they
were not the result of a malady which humbles human nature ;
the incident by which they were succeeded, ought to make
Democritus shed tears. Sinot had a child who had been af
fected by fits, and over whom the priest had been requested
by its mother to say prayers. This was not only a natural,
but, I will add, a reasonable application. It is not supposed
by Roman Catholics that the prayers of a clergyman are
endowed with any preternatural efBcacy; but it is considered
that praying over the sick is a pious and religious act. The
recollection of this fatal request passed across the distempered
mi#d of the madman, who hurried with an insane alacrity to

FATHEE CAEEOLl's TEIAL. 307
Sinot's cabin. It was composed of two rooms upon the ground
floor, in the smaller of which lay the little victim. It was
indeed so contracted, that it could not contain more than two
or three persons. The crowd who followed the priest remained
outside, and were utterly unconscious of what he was about to
do. The father of the child was not in the house when Father
Carroll entered it, and was prevented by the pressure in tbe
exterior room from approaching him ; and for some time after
the death of the child was wholly unconscious of what had
taken place.
No efforts whatever were made to prevent his interference.
He was produced as a witness upon the trial, and swore that
it dfd not enter into his thougbts that Father Carroll intended
to do the child the least harm. He could not, he said, even
see the priest. It is not necessary to describe the manner of
the infant's death. It is enough to say that, after uttering a few
feeble cries, and calling upon its " mammy," every sound be
came extinct. The madman had placed the child under a
tub, and life was extinguished. It may well be imagined that
the trial of this case excited a strong sensation in the county
where the rebellion had raged with its most dangerous fury,
and from which it will be long before its recollections will have
entirely passed away. The Protestant party, forgetting that
many of their own sect had taken a partial share in the pro
ceedings, of which they had been, at all events, the passive
witnesses, exhibited a proud and disdainful exultation, and
affected a deep scorn for the intellectual debasement of which
they alleged this event to be a manifest proof; while the
Catholics disclosed a festered soreness upon an incident which,
they could not fail to feel, was likely to expose them to much
plausible imputation.
The Court-house was crowded to the roof by persons of all
clftsses and opinions, among whom the clergy of both churches
were conspicuous. It was filled with parsons and with priests.
Although there is a certain clerical affinity between ecclesias
tics of all sorts, it was not difficult, under a cloth of the same
color, to distinguish between the ministers of the two religions.
An expression of sly disdain, accompanied with a joyous glit-

308 WEXFOED ASSIZES.
ter of the eye, gleamed over the parsons' faces ; while the
countenances of the Catholic clergy betrayed, in the rude play
of their marked aud impassioned features, the bitter conscious
ness of unmerited humiliation.
The dress of the two clerical parties presented a singular
contrast. The priests were cased in huge top-boots of dubious
«,nd murky yellow and of bespattered black : the parsons'
taper limbs were enclosed in tight and sable silk, which, by
compressing, disclosed their plump proportions. The nameless
integuments of the Popish ministers of the gospel were framed
of substantial thickset, and bore evidence to the high trot of
the rough-coated nags with which they had descended from
the mountains ; while the immaculate kerseymere of the par
sons' inexpressibles indicated with what nicety they had
picked their steps through all the mire of the Catholic mul
titude round the court. The priests' dingy waistcoats were
close fastened to their neckcloths, and looked like an armor
of economy ; while the parsons' exhibited the finest cambric,
wrought into minute and snow-white folds. A ponderous
mantle of smoking frieze hung from the shoulders of the
priest ; while a well-shaped jerkin brought the parson's sym
metries into relief. The parson held a pinch of Prince's Mix
ture between his lilied fingers, while the priest impelled a
reiterated and ample mass of Lundifoot into his olfactory
organ.* The priest's cheek was ruddy with the keen air of
the mountain and the glen, while the faint blush upon the
parson's cheek left it a matter for conjecture, whether it pro
ceeded from some remnant of nature, or was the result of the
delicate tincture of art. The former sat near the dock, and the
latter near the bench.
* Lundifoot was a tobacconist in Dublin who made a large fortune by a snuff
called " Irish Blackguard." Thoname thus originated : one of the workmen
left the snuff so long in the oven that it became " high-dried."' Lundifoot, de
tecting the neglect, scolded the man, and damned him for an Irish blackguard.
On taking out the snuff, he tried a pinch of it (more in despair than hope), dis
covered that it had a new and peculiar flavor, and repeated the exti-a drying
on a large scale. The snuff took, and when the workman was desired to name
it, he called it "Irish Blackguard" — the appellation bestowed on himself.—
Prince's Mixture is a dark, moist, scented snuff, much affected by George IV.,
when Prince of Wales. — M,

FATHEE CAKE(^l's TELAL. 309
Besides the clergy of the two religions, I observed another
class, whom, from their plain apparel and primitive aspect, I
took for the fi-iars of Wexford, but upon looking more closely
I discovered my mistake. There was a grimness in their ex
pression, quite foreign from the natural and easy cheerfulness
of an Irish Franciscan ; and in their disastrous and Calvinistic
visages, their long, lank hair, and the gloomy leer of mingled
hatred and derision with which they surveyed the Catholics
around them, I beheld the ghostly "teachers of the Word."
A pause took place before the trial was called on, which
rendered expectation more intense : at length Mr. Justice
Johnson directed that the prisoner should be brought forward.
Every eye was turned to the dock, and the prisoner stood at
the bar. His figure was tall and dignified. A large black
cloak with a scarlet collar was fastened with a clasp round
his neck,T3ut not so closely as to conceal the ample chest,
across which his arms were loosely and resignedly folded.
His strong black hair was bound with a velvet band, to con
ceal the recent incisions made by the Surgeon in his head.
His countenance was smooth and finely chiseled ; and it was
observed by many that his features, which, though small, were
marked, bore a miniature resemblance to Napoleon. His color
was dead and chalky, and it was impossible to perceive the
least play or variety of emotion about the mouth, which con
tinued open, and of the color of ashes. On being called on to
plead, he remained silent.
The Court was about to direct an inquiry whether he was
"mute of malice," when it was seen by a glance of his eye,
that he was conscious of the purport of the question ; and by
the directions of his counsel he pleaded not guilty. During
the trial, which was conducted with the most exemplary mod
eration by the counsel for the crown, he retained his petrified
and statue-like demeanor; and although the heat was most
intense, the hue of his face and lips did not undergo the
sUghtest change. The jury found that he had committed the
direful act under the influence of insanity. Judge Johnson
addressed him in a very striking and pathetic manner. He
Beemed to me to have blood in his eye for Prince Hohenloe,

310 WEXFOED ASSIZES.
whose miracles were then in vogue,* and were supposed, how
ever erroneously, to have contributed to the prisoner's infatua
tion. This was a mistake : he was organically insane, and
was in reality as innocent as the poor child who had perished
in his hands. The learned judge opened a masqued battery
upon Bamberg,t and some of the shots reached to Rome : but
he should not have forgotten that there is a form for exorcism
in the Protestant as well as in the Roman Catholic ritual.
The religion of England requires a further cleansing, and a
new Reformation might be a judicious project.
* Hohenloe was a German prince, who had taken holy orders in the Church
of Rome, and was a man of such singular piety that it was believed, in Ireland,
from 1822 to 1825, that his prayers, if offered specially in any particular case,
would immediately effect a cure — no matter how severe the bodily ailment of
the person prayed for. — M.
tThe place, in Germany, of Prince Hohenloe's residence. — M

JOHN DOHERTY.
Me. Doherty, whom his personal claims, assisted I presume
by his political connections, and backed by the opposition of
Lord Manners, have recommended as the new Solicitor-General
of Ireland [1827J, is six feet two inches high, and " every inch" a
very estimable person. Tall as he is, there is nothing contempt
uous or haughty in his carriage. He never proudly tosses up
his chin, as if to let briefer specimens of humanity pass under.
He delights not, like his learned and pious competitor for office,
in soaring among the skies for the inward satisfaction of look
ing down upon other men ; neither can he pass with the dexter
ous versatility of that holy Sergeant [LefroyJ from knotty ques
tions of Chancery practice to the latest authorities for " nonsuit
ing the devil."* He is, on the contrary, as terrestrial as can be
in his habits and intercourse. His manners are friendly and
forbearing, and his conversation enlivened by a temperate love
of frolic, which endears his society to all those hardened sin
ners who have not yet been sainted into a due sense of the
awful responsibility of joining in a hearty laugh.
As to more important points, he is admitted on all hands to
be an extremely clever man. He is, and has been for some
* An English vrater of the 17th century has sketched " the character of a
perfect lawyer," from which I extract the concluding sentence for the benefit
of the learned saints of Ireland. " In a word, while he lives, he is the delight
of the courts, the ornament of the bar, the glory of his profession, the patron
of innocency, the upholder of right, the scourge of oppression, the terror of
deceit, and the oracle of his country ; and when death calls him to the bar of
Heaven by a habeas corpus cum ca-usis, he finds his judge his advocate, nonsuits
the de-vil, obtains a liberate from all his infirmities, and continues still one of
the long robe in glory." — M.

312 JOHN DOHEETT.
years, the leader upon his circuit ; and since he became so, has
given unequivocal proofs that he possesses powers of no ordi
nary kind in swaying the decisions of a jury, while he has
more recently, in the discussion of graver matters in the courts
of Dublin, established a character for legal efficiency, which
has been erroneously assumed to be incompatible with the more
popular attributes of wit and eloquence. Resting upon a con
fidence in his qualifications, and sustained by a just ambition,
Mr. Doherty long since announced by his conduct that he as
pired to something more than the partial success which ia
founded upon the mere emoluments of place. Five years ago
he resigned a lucrative office,* of which he found the duties
to interfere with his final objects, and, dedicating himself more
exclusively to his profession, has prepared himself for those
higher honors which he then predicted to lie within his reach.
As an advocate, his general style of treating serious topics
has nothing so peculiarly his own as prominently to distinguish
him from others. In his addresses to juries he is prompt, or"-
derly, correct, and fluent^ — rarely attempting to inflame the
passions to their highest pitch, but always warmly and forcibly
inculcating the principles of common sense and practical good
feeling ;. but when a case requires (in technical parlance) " to
be laughed out of court" (and one half of the cases that enter
there deserve to be so dismissed), Mr. Doherty exhibits powers
of very striking and effective originality. I know of no one
that more eminently possesses the difficult talent of enlisting a
jury on his side by a continued strain of good-humored, gen
tlemanlike irony — consisting of mock-heroic encomiums, sar
castic deference, and appropriate parodies upon arguments and
illustrations, delivered (as long as gravity is possible) with a
most meritorious solemnity of countenance, and a certain artful
kindliness of tone, that heightens the absurdity it exposes, by
affecting to commiserate it. He is also distinguished for his
ability in cross-examination — a quality wbich has rendat-ed
him, in his capacity of crown-prosecutor upon his circuit, a for
midable co-operator in the enforcement of the laws.
* Commissioner of Inquiiy into Courts of Justice in Irelandi— the salary
twelve hundred pounds sterling a year. — M.

CANDIDATES FOE PEOMOTION. 313
Recent events have brought this gentleman into prominent
view before the Irish public, and have arrayed in his interest
a degree of popular favor whicli is rarely tendered to a future
adviser of state-prosecutions. Upon the late vacancy of the
Solicitor-Generalship for Ireland (an office upon which its long
tenure by tbe present Lord Chief-Justice Bushe has confeiTed
a kind of classic dignity), a variety of concurring circumstances
— the respectability of his personal character — his professional
competency — the known liberality of his political opinions —
and his parliamentary and private relations with the prime
minister of England — pointed out Mr. Doherty as one of the
fittest persons to be raised to the situation.
I should be unjust to others if I were to assert that he was in
every possible respect the very fittest. I can not overlook, the
Irish public did not overlook, the claims of such a man as Mr.
Wallace, founded as they are upon eminent professional sta
tion, tried public character, and (the penalty of the latter) a
long and systematic exclusion from office. Mr. Holmes is an
other.* He was spoken of, and well deserved it. His profes
sional life has been one continued manly appeal to the public ;
and the public, doing all they could for him, have placed him
at the head of his profession. In his political principles he has
been honest and immutable, careless of patronage, and prizing
above all things his self-respect Another of the same school
and stamp is Mr. Perrin, a younger man by many years — too
young, perhaps, to be raised to professional honors by merit
alone.t His name was not mentioned upon the occasion re-
* Robert Holmes, for many years Father of the Irish Bar, made his last pub
lic appearance (of any consequence) in the State Trials arising out of the
O'Connell Monster meetings of 1843, holding a brief for the Crown. He was
then seventy-three years old. He was a la-wyer of much ability, a man of great
private worth. He was married to Emmett's sister-in-law, and, on suspicion
of holding the same political opinions, was arrested, in 1803, and imprisoned
for some months. He repeatedly refused a silk gown, preferring his station as
a plain barrister to the rank of King's Counsel. — M.
t Louis Perrin, now second Judge of the Queen's Bench, is the son of a
teacher of languages iu Dublin, who compiled an excellent French Dictionary.
His family came to Ireland, to avoid persecution in France, as Huguenots. The
son, bom in 1783, and called to the bar in 1806, speedily became eminent for
his knowledge of criminal and revenue law. At Nisi Prius he was also distin-
VoL. L — 14

814 JOHN DOBEETY.
ferred to, but where a fitness for the public service is in ques
tion, I can not in fairness pass it by. He commenced his career
at a period (the most dismal in the annals of the Irish bar)
when public spirit led to martyrdom ; but he was oue of the
few that were too strong to be suppressed. He prospered in
despite of his inflexible adherence to the opinions of his youth,
and (a rare event iu the life of a liberal Irishman) has lived to
see the day when such opinions are no longer to disqualify. I
could mention others. Mr. North, for example, was in every
way suited by character, acquirements, and enlightened views,
to bear a part in a reformed government of Ireland. So was
Mr. Crampton,* who, though more absorbed in his profession,
guished, and had a calm, earnest manner (the result of his somewhat satur
nine temperament), which had much weight with juries. Strongly supported
on the liberal interest, by Lord Anglesey's Government, Mr. Perrin contested
the representation of Dublin city, at the general election, in 1831, and was re
turned with Mr. (afterward Sir Thomas) Harty. Both were soon unseated on
petition. At the election in 1832, following the passing of the Reform Bill,
Mr, Penin successfully contested Monaghan County. The whigs made him
Solicitor-General, under Attorney-General O'Loghlen. In Parliament, he was
an industrious man who carefully attended to the contents and revision of Irish
Bills. The Whigs placed him on the Bench, and he has there given general
satisfaction. In the O'Connell trials of 1844, he was one of the Judges — the
others being Pennefather, Burton, and Crampton. During these State Trials,
he did not conceal nor cloak his opinion that many of the objections, as to the
legality of some of the proceedings, made by the defendants (O'Connell and
his fi-iends) were well founded — but he was overruled by the majority. Judge
Perrin has always been a consistent liberal in politics. Between O'Connell
and himself there was a warm friendship of long standing. He is now [1854]
seventy years of age. — M.
* Charles Cecil Crampton, born in 1783, was called to the bar in 1810. After
a very distinguished University career, he first became Fellow of, and subse
quently Law-Professor to. Trinity College. He entered Parliament for the
borough of Dungarvan, and became Solicitor-General to the Whig Government
of 1830. He was raised to the Bench eai-lier than usual, owing to his being
disliked by Mr. O'Connell, who, on that account, could not work pleasantly
with him. The Whigs, who then ruled Ireland through O'Connell, made Mr.
Crampton a Judge, on the earliest vacancy — to get him out of the way. Judge
Crampton never was an eloquent man, but it is supposed that he had as much
Nisi-Prius practice as any Irish lawyer, in his time. Long before the Temper
ance Movement had been commenced by Father Matthew, it was well known
that Judge Crampton was a water-drinker. When he became so, on principle,
he proved the sincerity of his profession, by starting the valuable contents of

LOED MANNEES. 315
and more circumspect in his avowals, has always had the spirit
to keep aloof from the base expedients that led to advance
ment at the Irish bar.
I have introduced those names without any invidious design
toward the immediate subject of the present sketch. On the
contrary, I could not easily produce a more complimentary
test of his personal and professional estimation than the fact
that the postponement of such men to him was acquiesced in
without a murmur from the bar or the public. His individual
qualifications were fully admitted ; and it was further borne in
mind that the circumstance of his having a seat in the House of
Commons, where one at the least of the law-officers of the Crown
should be present to answer for their acts, afforded in his favor
an obvious and powerful ground of preference. The Lord-
Chancellor of Ireland, however, decided otherwise; and, with
out presuming to usurp the jurisdiction of the House of Peers,
or to emulate its frequent severity toward his Lordship's judi
cial errors, I may perhaps be permitted to investigate the rea
sons and the value of his decision in the present instance.
Lord Manners is a nobleman of high English blood, and in
his individual capacity, and when left to himself, is marked
by all the thoroughbred attributes that belong to his race. As
a private man, and apart from poUtics, he is dignified, cour
teous, just, and generous. His moral instincts are all aided
and enforced by the honorable pride of the peer and the gen
tleman ; he recoils from what is base, not only because it is so,
bnt because to act otherwise would be unworthy of the blood
of tbe Rutlands. Though of a temperament rather irritable
than warm, he is fervid and steadfast in his friendships. In
his private intercourse there is an easy simplicity of manner,
and a condescending familiarity of tone, that not only fascinates
his immediate adherents, but even charms down the resentment
of the Catholic Squire, to whom he explains the political im
possibility of granting him the commission of the peace. Many
of these qualities follow Lord Manners to the judgment-seat,
but in company with others which greatly detract from their
his wine-cellar into the stream which flows through his villa-demesne in the
County Wicklow. ludge Crampton is now [1854] seventy years of age.— M.

316 JOHN DOHEETT.
influence. It is not so easy a matter to be a great judge as a
perfect gentleman. That he is the latter, his Lordship's ene
mies must admit ; that he ever could be the former, even Ser
geant Lefroy has scrupulously abstained from insinuating —
the contrary, and the cause of it, were too palpable.
In the decisions of Lord Manners, even in those now pros
trate ones at which the Chancellor of England shook his sides
as samples of provincial equity, there were no symptoms of
impatient or perverted strength of intellect rushing vigorously
to a wrong conclusion. The judicial defects of Lord Manners
have another origin — a natural delicacy of mental constitution,
which incapacitates' him for the labors of legal dialectics. As
far as a mere passive operation of the mind is required for col
lecting a series of naked facts, he shows no deficiency of per
ception or retention. The settlements, marriages, deaths, and
incumbrances, that form the ordinary staple of a chancery suit,
he can master with sufficient expertness ; and, probably, not
the less so from having his attention unmolested during the
process by any logical speculations upon their bearings on the
issue ; but whenever an active effort of thought is wanting for
the comprehending and elucidating a complicated question, the
organic failing of his mind breaks out. Submit two proposi
tions to him, and, if they be in immediate juxtaposition, he can
perceive as quickly as another whether they correspond or dif
fer; but if (as in the case of most legal problems) their relation
is discoverable only by a process of intermediate comparisons,
no sooner has the advocate advanced a step in the operation,
than he is left to proceed alone, the Chancellor remaining stock
still at the starting-point, and looking on with a polite, fastidi
ous smile, as if he were rather determined not to be misled tlian
unable to follow. The consequence of this habitual inertness
of intellect is, that the fate of every case of difficulty that comes
before him must be more or less an affair of chance, depending
not so much upon its various aspects, as upon the precise point
of elevation to which his mind can be possibly uplifted for the
purpose of inspection.
Lord Manners's inaptitude for compound reasoning was well
known to Lord Plunket, who would often practise upon it with

LOED-CHAXCELLOE HARDWICKE. 317
the unrelenting dexterity of a hardened logician. It was at
once interesting and amusing to see that consummate advocate,
when, nothing else remained, resorting to a series of subtle
stratagems, of which none but himself could discern the object,
uutil the last movement being completed, presented the victim
of his craft pent up in an equitable defile from which there was
no escaping. If he attempted it on one side, there stood Vesey
Junior guarding the pass ; if on the other, his own Stackpoole
and Stackpoole (as just reversed in the Lords') stopped the
way ; Hardwicke* and Camden overawed his rear ; common
sense and the Attorney-General kept annoying his front, until
the keeper of the Irish seals, exhausted though unconvinced,
would frankly admit that he was "perplexed in the extreme,"
and, casting a wistful eye at Mr. Saurin, demand four-and-
twenty hours to clear his thoughts. It required, however, all
the authoritative ability of such a man as the late Attorney-
General to extract such an admission from his Lordship. To
others, whom there was less risk of provoking by impatience,
* PhUip Yorke, bom 1690, was the son of an attorney at Dover. Called to
the bar in 1714, he entered Parliament in 1718, and (though the youngest
counsel on the Western Circuit) was appointed Solicitor-General, in 1720, on
the recommendation of Lord Chancellor Macclesfield. Li 1723, when he was
made Attomey-General, he refused to act on the impeachment of Lord Blaccles-
field, his first patron, and defended him, in the House of Commons from the
attacks of Mr. Sergeant Pengelly. In 1733, was made Lord Chief-Justice of
England, and raised to the peerage, as Baron Hardwicke. He was appointed
Lord Chancellor in 1737, and during the twenty years he held that office, only
three of his judgments were even questioned, and these were confirmed, on
appeal, by the House of Lords. Li 1754 he was raised to an Earldom, and
resigned office in 1756. He died in 1764, leaving a reputation very high in
deed. His knowledge of law and equity was great. So were his leaming and
his ready application of it. Lord Mansfield, Burke, and the noted John Wilkes,
each characterized him in the same words — "When Hardwicke pronounced
his decrees. Wisdom herself might be supposed to speak." He trifled with
literature, which he liked. He wrote " The Legal Judicature in Chancery
stated," and, when only two-and-tW6nty,sent Addison a paper, on the disad
vantage of young men going abroad too early : it has the signature Philip
Homebred, and forms No. 364 of The Spectator. Sending a present of a hare,
he despatched the following epigram with it : —
" Mitto tibi leporem ; grates mihi mitte lepores ;
Sal mea commendat munera, vestra sales." — M.

318 JOHN DOHEETT.
he-lias always given it to be clearly understood that, when once
he had succeeded in forming an opinion, he did not expect to
be pressed by arguments against it. In doing this he did not
intend to be unjust; he merely shrunk from the mental labor
of reinvestigating the grounds of a conclusion, at which, whether
right or wrong, he had found it no easy task to arrive : but the
consequence of his known irritability upon such occasions has
inevitably been to place a counsel in the embarrassing predica
ment of either surrendering his case before it is thoroughly dis
cussed, or of exposing himself by his perseverance to the im
putation of being wanting in respect to the Court.
A Chancellor of Ireland is necessarily a politician, and I
confidently believe that Lord Manners had as anxious a wish
to' be a beneficent statesman as to be a just judge, but it could
not be. He came to Ireland with the prejudices of the cradle
upon the questions that agitate her ; and in a mind like his,
such prejudices are fondly cherished as easy of comprehension,
and saving the necessity of more laborious investigation. Tell
this amiable nobleman that the dread of Popery is no more
the foundation of British freedom than the fear of goblins is
tbe basis of religion, and he starts as if you proposed an im
mediate dissolution of society. Insinuate that the only kno-wn
method of consolidating an empire is by communicating equal
rights and benefits to all its parts, and his prophetic eye be
holds a picture inconceivably appalling — the Pope on the
throne of Ireland ; Doctor Doyle, Archbishop of Dublin ;* Mr.
O'Connell, Lord High-Chancellor ; Mr. Purcel O'Gorman, prin
cipal Secretary for Papal affairs; and, worse than all, Mr.
Sheil sworn in as Solicitor-General before he was actually more
than twenty years at the bar !
This chronic distemper of the mind has influenced almost
* The Reverend James Doyle, D. D., Roman Catholic Bishop of Kildare
and Leighlin, was a very eminent writer on polemics and politics. His exam
ination, in 1825, on the State of Ireland, taken before a Committee of the
House of Lords, was full of sound information, and excited general admiration.
His -writings chiefly appeared with the signature J. K. L. — the iuitials of his
own Christian name and that of his diocese. Of Bishop Doyle a fiirther no
tice will be found on page 382. — M.

LOED MANNEEs's COMPANIONS. 319
all Lord Manners's political acts : his government of the magis
tracy, his recommendations to office, and (what in Ireland may
be called a political act) the selection of his personal favorites.
Even the speculators in a preposterous theology, which Lord
Manners never liked, found favor in his sight, in consideration
of their rapturous concurrence in his worldly misconceptions.
He was at all times willing to meet a senior or junior saint
anywhere but at the Bethesda, and to hear anything from their
lips except an extemporary exhortation. It was quite impossible
that a person so single-hearted and unsuspecting should fail
to be the frequent dupe of those intelligent devotees. It is
recorded of that ingenious personage, immortalized as Mr. Dex
ter in the novel of " O'Donnell," that he was in the habit, for
his own shrewd purposes, of keeping close to the Irish Chan
cellor (who is a keen sportsman, though an indifferent shot),
upon his shooting excursions through Lord Abercorn's grounds.
Every bird that rose was missed by the peer, and contempora
neously brought down by his unerring companion, who, with
pretended mortification, and an effrontery of adulation known
only to Irish parasites, would bluster about the unfairness of
being anticipated in every shot ; and, after a day thus turned
to good account, would bring back the illustrious sportsman
loaded with imaginary spoils, and exulting in his undiminished
accuracy of aim. It was not only in the fields of Barons Court
that his Lordship has been attended by men as dexterous as
Mr. Dexter. He was too obvious an instrument not to be sur
rounded by practised political marksmen, who were ever ready,
for their own substantial objects, to give him all the use and
glory of their skill. Having no taste for general reading or
solitary meditation, he has dedicated his extra-judicial hours
to social ease, and naturally fell into a companionship with
those who were least disposed to shake his faith in his preju
dices. It was not in the Huguenot recollections of Mr. Sau
rin, nor in the colloquial revelations of Mr. Sergeant Lefroy,
that a public functionary in Ireland could be expected to be
weaned of his political antipathies. The extent of those an
tipathies, and their undeviating influence upon his Lordship's
public acts, may be collected from a single fact. Among the

320 JOHN DOHEETT.
legal appointments in the gift of the Irish Chancellor, there are
about thirty commissionership$ of bankrupts ; and, during the
twenty years that Lord Manners has held the seals, not one
Catholic barrister has been named to a place.
An important branch of the Irish Chancellor's patronage,
and one that he has exercised with more profusion than any
of his predecessors, is the nomination of King's Counsel. The
subject demands a short notice of the nature and incidents of
this appointment. The legal fiction is (as the term imports),
that a certain number of barristers are selected to conduct the
necessary business of the Crown. In point of fact they are
utterly unnecessary, and, as such, unemployed for that pm--
pose. The business of the Crown can be, and is, fully dis
charged by the Attorney and Solicitor General and the three
Sergeants upon important occasions ; and, in ordinary matters,
by the several Crown-prosecutors, who are chosen indiscrimi
nately from the bar. The Attorney-General is bound to pro
vide for the proper conduct of Crown-prosecutions, and, as he
can not be present in his own person, he substitutes in his place
certain individuals, for whose efficiency he is responsible ; of
these a considerable portion, upon some of the circuits one half,
are at this moment stuff-gowns. But however rarely the King
laay in point of fact have occasion for the services of his nomi
nal counsel, they are by a similar fiction of law presumed to be
at all times occupied with the business of the Crown, and there
fore entitled to precedence in tlie Coui-ts. This, to a ban-ister
of ordinary efficiency, is an important personal advantage. It
enables him to bring on his motions to a speedy decision, and
thus establishes, for those who enjoy the privilege, a profitable
monopoly of an extensive branch of general business. The
only exception is in the Rolls Court; where, by a , regulation
of the present Master of the Rolls, the several motions for the
day are entered in a list according to the date of the notice,
and called on in regular rotation. There is, consequently, no
precedency among the counsel; and the result (which can
be scarcely accidental) is, that in that Court the great mass of
the very important business transacted there is distributed
among the members of the out-^r bar. In all tho other Courts

OBJECTIONS TO HIS PEOMOTION. 321
a large portion of the general business is withdrawn from the
outer bar, and distributed among the privileged few. In com
mon fairness, therefore, to the profession at large, and also to
the suitor, who ought to be left as uncontrolled as possible in
the selection of his counsel, personal privileges of this kind,
which thus work a detriment to others, should be very spar
ingly conferred. In former times, a silk-gown was given as an
honorary distinction to an already eminent barrister, and not
as a recommendation to business. Thirty years ago there were
only sixteen King's Counsel, and since then the general busi
ness of the bar has materially decreased. There are now
forty-three — all, with a few exceptions, of Lord Manners's
creation. The number has, in fact, become so excessive, that
it has been found necessary to alter the old arrangement of the
Courts, in order to supply them all with seats. At the English
bar, where public opinion has some influence, there were, at the
commencement of the present year [1827], only twenty-eight
King's Counsel.
When Mr. Doherty was lately nominated to the vacant So
licitor-Generalship for Ireland, Lord Manners interposed, and
for some weeks refused to swear him in. The measure was as
unprecedented as the reason assigned ; namely, that the gen
tleman in question, who is of twenty years' standing, was too
youthful a barrister to be lifted over the heads of certain meri
torious seniors. The principle sounded fairly enough in the
ears of the one or two who hoped to profit by it, but it had not
the slightest foundation in established usage. There has been
no such thing at the Irish bar as even a vague expectation that
promotion was to be regulated by length of standing, and least
of all, promotion to the office in question, which may be said
to partake more of a political than a legal character. It is only
necessary to refer to the appointments since the Union ; they
are as follows : —
Sir John Stewart, eighteen years at the bar.
Mr. O'Grady (now Chief Baron of the Exchequer), fifteen
years at the bar.
Mr. M'Cleland (now Baron of the Exchequer), thirteen years
at the bar. 14*

322 JOHN DOHEETT.
»Mr. Plunket (now Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas), sev
enteen years at the bar.
Mr. Bushe (now Chief-Justice of the King's Bench), thirteen
years at the bar.
The list closes with the present Attorney-General, Mr. Joy
[1827]. He had certainly obtained the maturity of standing,
which has at length been discovered to be so indispensable a
qualification ; but who, that ever gave a thought to the reasons
for his appointment, does not know that he was made Solicitor-
General in 1822, not because he happened to be a Sergeant,
not because he was well stricken in legal years, but because there
was in his pers-on a coincidence of professional and political
requisites which accorded with the project of a balanced Ad
ministration. So far as the question of seniority is concerned,
he formed an exception to the general practice.
Overlooking, however, the objection that Mr. Doherty is not
old enough in his profession to be a " promising young man"
— a grave legal maxim, for which Lord Manners has tbe high
authority of Mr. Sergeant Flower — I would say that the po
litical circumstances of Ireland afford some very serious reasons
for the selection of this gentleman, and the rejection of the
class of competitors that Lord Manners would have preferred.
The late purification of the British Cabinet* has opened new
* George Canning was appointed Governor-General of India in 1822, had
prepared for his departure, and publicly taken leave of his constituents at Liv
erpool, when the Marquis of Londonderry (Castlereagh) committed suicide.
The foreign secretaryship thus became vacant. George IV. (who had not for
given him for going to the Continent, and offering to resign his office of Presi
dent of the Board of Control, rather than assist in the prosecution and persecu
tion of Queen Caroline, whom he had spoken of in Parliament as " the
grace, life, and ornament of society") hesitated to appoint Canning. He did
so, however, and Canning thereby became the virtual head of the Administration,
the nominal head being Lord Liverpool, who was obliged to take lai'ge and
daily doses of ether to strengthen his nerves, and who confessed that, for years,
he had never received his letters iu the morning without di'eading to open
them, for fear that they should give him notice of an insurrection in some part
of the country. Croly (a T017) says of him that his system was to glide on fi-om
year to year, and think that his business was amply done, if the Welve months
passed without a rebellion, a war, or a national bankruptcy ; to shrink fi-om
every iirprnvemont in his terror of change;, and to tolerate every old abuse,
through dread of giving the nation a habit of inquiry. Yet this man had ruled

oai^^^ing's guvkehmenx. 323
prospects to the Catholics of Ireland, aud (what a wise ^nd
considerate government should never overlook) has inspired
their leaders with a sanguine and determined forbearance sel-
England, with a mind thus enfeebled, for fifteen years ! From 1822 until Feb
ruary, 1827, vi'hen Lord Livei-pool was attacked by paralysis, Canning may be
said to have ruled the country. Some weeks elapsed before Lord Liverpool'a
place was filled up — in the interval (early in March), Canning made a power
ful speech in Parliament, in support of Catholic Emancipation, which was lost
by a majority of four only. At last, on April 12, 1827, it was announced that
Canning had been appointed Prime Minister. Suddenly and simultaneously,
Wellington, Peel, Eldon, and three others of Canning's colleagues in the Cab
inet, resigned. He formed a ministry consisting of liberals — but the Tories
formed a compact opposition, aided by " the old whigs," headed by Earl Grey.
This latter party, not very numerous then, consisted of those who thought that
certain noble families, on either side, had a sort of hereditary right to govern
the country. Perhaps, also, Lord Grey recollected that, in a keen satire on
"All the Talents," written by Canning, twenty years before, Temple's wit and
Sidmouth's fiiinness, had been slily contrasted with
 '* the temper of Grey,
And Treasurer Sheridan's promise to pay.''
' At all events. Lord Grey strongly and haughtily opposed Canning's ministry.
The Lrish Catholics, who saw in the new Premier one of their most eloquent ad
vocates, and who speedily felt the advantages accruing from the charges he
made personnalit^ of the Lish Government, naturally entertained the highest
hopes from the promotion of their friend. He had to contend, in ill health, with
avery strong and ruthless opposition in Parliament which " hounded him on to
djfiath" (to use the words of Lord George Bentinck's accusation of Peel, at a
later day), and a Premier who would have carried- out the most liberal meas
ures, had he lived, died in the Duke of Devonshire's house, at Chiswick, re ir
London, on August 8, 1827, aged 57, in the very same room where, twenty-one
years' earlier, Charles James Fox ha.d breathed his last — much about the sajne
' age ; each beiug liberal in politics, each crowning the labors of a life of active
ambition, by timely obtaining the highest ofiice — to hold it for a few months
and " die in harness." Canning was succeeded, as Premier, by Lord Gode-
rich, who had not talent or infiuence to govern. In January, 1828, the reins
of empire passed from his weak hands to those of Wellington — the avowed
opponent of the Catholic claims. Then, in despair and defiance, came the Clare
Election, which led, in the Duke's opinion, to one of two things — a civil war
or Catholic Emancipation. The soldier, sagacious by reason of his long expe
rience in war, prefen-ed to yield — on the plea of necessity. This he did in
1829. Next year, he was too proud to grant Parliamentary Reform, on the same
grounds, and was defeated. The Whigs came into power, headed by Lord
Grey, and after the severest Parliamentary struggle ever known — stretching
through two Parliaments and two years' excitfement — was passed that reform

324 JOHN DOHKETY.
ddln manifested by the directors of a popular body. The skill
and prudence -with -which Mr. O'Connell and his colleagues, at
the risk of their popularity, have prevailed upon their ardent
countrymen to accommodate tlieir temper to the exigencies of
the occasion, justly merited every practical acknowledgment
that could be tendered by the new Administration. Next to
the final consummation of their hopes, the Irish Catholics an
nex the utmost importance to the official appointments of per
sons in -whom they can confide ; and most of all in the case of
the legal advisers of the Crown, upon whose individual charac
ters and political tenets they know by experience that the
decision of many questions affecting their interests depends.
But, however sensitive upon this point, they evinced no dis
position, at the recent crisis, to embarrass the Government, by
exacting more than could be conveniently accorded. Though
well aware of Mr. Joy's hostility to their cause, they allowed
his personal claims to outweigh their wishes, and acquiesced,
as a matter of state necessity, in his elevation to the vacant
Attorney-Generalship ; but farther than this they could not be
expected to go. They saw that the Government was fi-ee to
choose his colleague, and very reasonably considered that their
feelings and interests should be consulted in the selection.
Had this expectation been bafiled — had a, political favorite of
Lord Manners been raised to a condition of suggesting subtle
reasons for disturbing the public tranquillity by the prosecution
of the Catholic leaders, the most disastrous results would have
ensued ; all confidence in the professions of the new Minister
would have been at an end. The Catholic Association woi-ild
have instantly exploded, and have been quickly involved in
angry collisions with the Government, fatal alike to their own
interests and to the stability of the Administration from which
they have so much to hope. These lamentable consequences
have, however, been prevented. The spirit of a better and
juster policy prevailed. Mr. Doherty was preferred ; and the
measure was no sooner announced, than its propriety was sauc-
in the parliamentaiy rr] rcsentation of the people, which now [1854] is to be
extended, on the ground of the incompleteness of the previous measure of
1832.— M.

INCIDENTS OF HIS PUBLIC LIFE. 325
tioned by the public and unequivocal satisfaction of that boSy
which it was of such vital moment to conciliate.*
The mere legal duties of the office to which Mr. Doherty
has been called might be easily discharged by a person of pro
fessional qualifications much inferior to his ; but it embraces
other duties, demanding requisites of another and less common
kind. It is now notorious that the Catholic question (however
opinions may vary upon its relative importance) is the one
upon which the fate of administrations depends, and most pe
culiarly the fate of the present administration. The Catholics
of Ireland, though not yet arrived at the maturity of strength
and influence in the empire which, when attained, must insure
an adjustment of their claims, have it at all times in their power
to resort to proceedings incompatible with the continuance of
their friends in office. Hence the relation of that body with
the Government of the country, at the present juncture, is one
* John Doherty, who was Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas in Ireland, for
twenty years, was called to the bar in 1808, made King's Counsel in 1823,
Solicitor-General in 1827, and was Chief-Justice from 1830 until September,
1850, when he died. Doherty, related on the maternal side to Colonel Vomer,
M. P. for Armagh, and by his father's family to Canning, came into Parlia
ment in 1826, as Member for Kilkenny. -W^hen Canning became Premier, he
raised Doherty to the position of Irish Solicitor. His knowledge of the science of
law was by no means extensive, but his sagacity was great, his industry exem
plary, and his sense of Justice pre-eminently powerful. It is said that of all
the opponents who measured weapons with O'Connell in Parliament, the most
successfol, and certainly one of the most undaunted, was Mr. Doherty. Their
chief encounter took place in May, 1830, shortly before Doherty was made a
Judge, and O'Connell fiercely attacked him for his conduct as Crown lawyer,
in what was called The Doneraile Conspiracy. He was met and answer^ed, at
all points, by Doherty, who (in the opinion of the Anti-O'Connellites, at least),
silenced, if he did not convince, his assailant. Peel had such a favorable rec
ollection of this word-duel that, in 1834, when he formed his first ministry.
he solicited Doherty to resign his judicial office, and to return to the House of
Commons, as one of the Cabinet. This was declined, whereupon Peel repeat
ed his entreaty, offering to raise him to the House of Lords. Chief-Justice
Doherty again declined, and Peel struggled on without his aid during the four
months of his bold experiment of governing against the popular will. In 1846,
before finally quitting office, it is said that Peel again offered a peerage to
Doherty, who was compelled to decline it, from want of means to provide for
the support of the dignity, having entered largely into railway speculations,
during the preceding joint-stock-bubble year, and thereby lost the bulk of his
fortune. — M.

32G J(j;iN DOHKEtT.
of utiexanipled delicacy ; and as such req-uires the nicest man
agement in sustaining them under the fatigues of protracted
hope, and iu preventing them from confounding inevitable de-
laj'S with au abandonment of tbeir cause by their professed sup
porters. It would be too much to expect that indications of
tbis latter feeling will not occasionally break out, and in forms
that may render it doubtful whether the due limits of popular
discussion have been observed. .Upon such questions, when
they arise, the law-officers of the Crown will have to advise;
and, to advise with discretion, they must have something more
than a knowledge of the law. There must be good temper,
good sense, good will toward the parties concerned, and a
strong public interest in preserving the state from the embar
rassments that wolild follow a hasty prosecution. These im
portant moral qualifications (if he be true to the tenor of his
past life) will be found in Mr. Doherty 's official character; and
along with them a great practical skill in winning over the
tempers of others to a given object, which eminently fits him
for tbe task of mediating between tbe occasional efiervescence
of his Catholic countrymen and the literal rigor of the law-.
He will also — but I have pursued the subject far enough, and
in dwelling, so long upou it I feel it to be only an act of com
mon justice to an estimable individual to record the opinion of
the Irish public upon the cruel but unavailing attempt that has
been made to mar bis prospects, and to bring discredit upon
the Government that thought him worthy of their trust.
The voice of the country in which Mr. Doherty is best known
has sustained him through this important crisis of his life. The
zeal with which his case was taken up by the Irish community,
though a merited, was a most essential service, and claims at
his hands every possible public return that he can make. He
may personally forgive the Irisb Chancellor for the wrong in
flicted on him ; but for the sake of others, if not for his own, he
mustbear it keenly in his memory, and, stimulated by the rec
ollection, make his future conduct a practical refutation of the
pretexts for crushing him, and thereby afi'ord an unanswerable
justification of the Government that placed him where he is,
and of the public that so warmly approved of the choice.

IN PAELTAMKNT. 327
What is expected from him as an officer of the Crown I have
already intimated ; but he will have other and more compre
hensive opportunities of retorting upon Lord Manners his pub
lic services. He will shortly resume his seat iu the House of
Commons, under circumstances that will secure for him an
efiective co-operation in every salutary measure that he pro
poses; and he must not allow the indolence of success, or a
groundless diffidence, to restrain him from turning his facilities
to a useful account. Hitherto he has prudently abstained from
trusting his reputation to the precarious effect of sample-
speeches ; and his continued abstinence will be justly applaud
ed, if he aspires to the better fame of making the statute-book
speak for him.
I have heard that he has for some time past been meditating
a simplification of the Irish bankrupt-law. This is a favorable
omen ; but his ambition, to be of service, must not be limited
to matters of subordinate moment. It would be neither easy
nor in place to enumerate here the various legislative wants of
Ireland ; but I can not avoid suggesting that there is one sub
ject of the highest national interest as yet unappropriated by
any Irish member, and holding out an asssurance of the lasting
importance that follows public services to any competent indi
vidual who shall make it his peculiar care : I allude to the
civilization of the Irish criminal code. Such a project would
be immediately within the scope of Mr. Doherty 's studies and
experience ; much of the first and most deterring labor of the
task would be saved by the adoption of Mr. Peel's general
plan,* while enough would remain in the modifications required
by the particular state of Irish society, to give the undertaking
a higher character than that of a servile imitation.
* The late Sir Eobert Peel was an eminently practical man of business. In
1817, when he was Irish Secretary, he introduced the excellent police system
now in operation in Ireland — from him the policemen are called Peelers. Thir
teen years later, he modified that system and adapted it to London, where it
continues to be very efficient. In 1826, he commenced his admirable attempts
to soften the rigor of our criminal code, and succeeded in mitigating the sever
ity of laws, which, in consequence of their harshness, had become nearly inop
erative. Nor, when he quitted oifice, in 1827 (on Canning's becoming Pre
mier), did he relinquish this course of humanity and reason. — M.

THE DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
A LARGE district of Dublin, commonly called " The Lib
erty," is occupied by the manufacturers of tabinet. This part
of the city exhibits at all times a disagreeable aspect. It is
a labyrinth of narrow lanes, composed of old and crazy
houses, and is choked with nastiness of every kind. Even
when its enormous population is in active employment, the
senses are shocked with much odious circumstance ; but when
labor is suspended, as is often the case, and the inhabitants are
thrown out of employment, a spectacle of wretchedness is pre
sented in this quarter of the Irish metropolis, of which it would
require the genius of Mr. Crabbe for the delineation of misery
to convey any adequate picture.
In tbe last month the manufacturing class have been with
out occupation or food. I passed, not very many days ago,
through the district in which they chiefly reside, and do not
recollect to have ever witnessed a more distressing scene. The
streets may be said to have swarmed with want. With star
vation and despair in their countenances, and with their arms
hanging in listlessness at their sides, hundreds of emaciated
men stood in groups at every corner. They gaped on every
person of the better class who chanced to pass them, with the
vacant earnestness of famine ; and when the equipage of some
pampered and vain-glorious citizen rolled by, it was painful
to observe in the expression of their faces the dumb compari
son with their own condition, which was passing through their
minds. The doors of the houses lay wide open, and, lighted up as
they wgre with the new and brilliant sunshine of May, afforded

CASTLE PATEONAGE. 329
an insight into the recesses of internal wretchedness. Their
wives and children were seen huddled up together, with
scarcely a shred of raiment upon their discolored and ema
ciated limbs. Their beds and blankets had been transferred
to the pawnbrokers ; and of their furniture, nothing but the
mere fixtures remained. The ashes round the hearth seemed
to be of a week's standing; and it was easy to perceive that the
- few potato-skins, scattered about the floor, were the relics of a
repast of no very recent date. Silence in general prevailed
through these receptacles of calamity, except that now and
then I heard the wailing of a child, who called with a feeble
cry for bread. Most of these houses of affliction were deserted
by the men, who stood in frightful gatherings in the public
way. But here and there I observed the wan but athletic
father of a family, sitting in the interior of his hovel, with his
hands locked upon his knee, surrounded by his children, of
whose presence he appeared to be scarcely conscious, and with
his wild and matted hair, his fixed and maddening eye, his
hard and stony lip, exhibiting a personification of despair;
and, if I may so say, looking like the Ugolino of "The
Liberty." Whatever may be the faults of the Irish character, insensi
bility to distress is not among them. Much substantial and
practical commiseration was exhibited among the higher
orders for the sufferings of the unfortunate manufacturers,
and various expedients were adopted for their relief. It
waa, among other devices of benevolence, suggested to the
Marchioness of Wellesley, that a public ball at the Rotunda
would be of use, and accordingly a " Tabinet Ball," under the
auspices of that fair and newly-ennobled lady, was announced.
The notice was given in order to afford the young ladies in
the country an opportunity of coming to town, and the llth
of May [1826] was fixed for the metropolitan /e^e. Peremptory
orders were issued at the Castle, that uo person should appear
in any other than Irish manufacture. A great sensation was
produced by what in such a provincial town as Dublin may
be considered as an event. Crowds of families flocked from
all parts of the country ; and if any prudential grazier remon-

330 DUBLIN TABINEr BALL.
strated against tbe expense of a journey to the metropolis, the
eyes of the young ladies having duly filled with tears, and
mamma having protested that Mr. O'Flaherty might as well
send the girls to a cbnvent, and doom them to old-maidenhood
for life, the old carriage was ordered to the hall-door, and
came creaking into town, laden with the rural belles, who
were to make a conquest at the " Tabinet Ball." The arrival
of the important day was looked for with impatience, and
many a yotjng heart was kept beating under its virgin zone
at the pleasurable anticipation. In the interval much good
was accomplished, and Terpsichore set the loom at work.
Every milliner's shop gave notes of profuse and prodigal prep
aration. At last the llth of May arrived, and at about ten o'clock
the city shook with the roll of carriages hurrying from all
quarters to the Rotunda. Not very long ago. Doctor Brinkley,
the astronomer,* took the noise of a newly-established manu
factory for the indication of an approaching earthquake ; and
if he had not been removed since then from the contemplation
of the stars, he would, in all likelihood, have taken the con
cussion of the Tabinet Ball night, for the earthquake itself.
The love of dancing is not among my addictions, and it is the
tendency of most persons of my profession to set up as a kind
of spurious Ohilde-Harolds upon occasions of this kind ; but
as the object of the ball was national, and I was solicitous to
take a close survey of Lord Wellesley and his Transatlantic
bride, I resolved to join the festive gathering, which charity
and its amiable patroness had assembled.
The Rotunda, where the ball was given, is a very beautiful
building, erected, I believe, by Sir William Chambers,t and
* Dr. John Brinkley was an Englishman, born in 1760. He was ediicated
at Oxford, and was appointed, on the repute he hod gained for his scientific
acquirements, to the Professorship of Astronomy in the University of Dublin.
He remained in this office until he was made Bishop of Cloyne. He died in
1835. He was the discoverer, in 1814, of the parallax of the fixed stars. — M.
+ Sir William Chambers, architect, was a native of Scotland, and erected
Somerset House, in London, a palatial edifice of much beauty, appropriated to
offices for several of the Government depai'tments. He wi-ote a valuable work
on " Civil Architecture," and died in 1796. He was knighted hy the King of

THE lEISH LADIES. 331
is. one of those models of pure architecture with which Dublin
abounds. Upon entering it, how different was the scene from
that with which it was associated, and how strong a contrast
was presented between the gorgeous and glittering spectacle
before me, and that which I have endeavored to describe.
My mind still retained some of those mournful reflections
which the contemplation of misery had produced ; and when
I found myself surrounded with a blaze of intense aud brilliant
illumination, and encompassed by a crowd glittering with
splendor, youth, and beauty, and moving in measure to exhil
arating music, the naked and half-famished wretches, whom
I had seen so recently, rose like phantoms in my memory, and
my imagination went back to the abode of starvation, and to
"the house of wo." I did not, however, permit these melan
choly reflections to lay any permanent hold upon me ; and in
deed the recollection that pleasure was made in this instance to
minister to the relief of sorrow, should have reconciled a per
son of a much more ascetic quality of mind than I am, to a
participation of the enjoyments of so brilliant a scene.
I question whether in London itself, however it may surpass
pur metropolis in wealth and grandeur, more splendor in alli
ance v/ith good taste could readily be displayed. There was
an immense assemblage of young and beautiful women, dressed
in an attire which, instead of impairing, tended to set off the
loveliness of their aspects, and the symmetry of their fine
forms — that sweetness and innocency of expression which
characterizes an Irish lady, sat upon their faces; modesty,
Sweden. — Under the present regulations, no British subject can receive or as
sume any title confen-ed by a foreigner, nor wear the insignia of any foreign
. Order, without special permission firom his own sovereign. Foreign titles have
been conferred upon several British subjects. John Duke of Marlborough wag
made aTrince of the Holy Eoman Empire by the Emperor of Germany; Nel
son was created. Duke of Bronte, in Sicily, with the grant of an estate, by the
King of Naples ; Wellington, was made Duke of Ciudad Rodrigo, with an es
tate, by the Junta of Spain, and Duke of Victoria by the Regent of Portugal,
as well as Prince of Waterloo, by the King of the Netherlands ; and Sir Charles
Napier, for his naval services in restoring Queen Donna Maria to the throne
of Portugal, was made Count Cape St. Vincent, by Don Pedro, having pre
viously received a title firom the King of the Two Sicilies, for his gallant cap
ture of the Isle of Ponza. — M.

332 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
iindness, and vivacity, played in their features ; and grace
and joyousness swayed the movement of limbs which ChaHr
trey would not disdain to select for a model.* While I was
looking upon this fine spectacle with some feeling of national
pride, it was announced that Lord Wellesley and the Mar
chioness were about to enter the room. There was a sudden
cessation in the dancing, and the light airs to which the crowd
had been moving were exchanged for the Royal Anthem. I
Lad never observed the Marquis so nearly as to form a very
accurate notion of him, and his beautiful American I had
never seen. I felt a strong curiosity about her. A Yankee,
and a Papist, turned into a Vice-Queen 1 ! There was some
thing strange in this caprice of fortune, and I was anxious to
see the person with whom the blind goddess had played so
fantastic a freak.t
* Francis Chantrey, one of the most celebrated of modem English sculp
tors, and ceitainly without a superior as a bust-maker, was bom ia 1781, and
died in 1841, aged sixty. From childhood he had a taste for drawing and
modelling, and after serving his time to a carver and gilder at Sheffield, there
commenced painting portraits, which he soon gave up for malting busts. One
of these, in the exhibition of the Royal Academy in London, brought him into
notice. He removed to London and speedily obtained numerous orders. His
busts were portraits in marble, lull of character and indi-viduality. In 1817, he
executed the monumental group of " The Sleeping Children" now in Lich
field Cathedral, over whose simple beauty and touching repose many tears have
been shed. This poetic group was made, it is said, itom a drawing by Stoth-
ard. Chantrey, who was elected a Royal Academician, and knighted, executed
the busts of nearly all the leading personages of his time, and several colossal
statues, in bronze, as public monuments. Of these, perhaps the most familiar,
which was also the last (and not erected until after he had died), was the Wel
lington equestrian statue in front of the Royal Exchange, London. — M.
t The present Marchioness Wellesley, was Marianne, daughter of Richard
Caton, Esq., of Maryland, and widow of Robert Patterson. The marriage took
place in February, 1825, when Lord Wellesley was in his sixty-fifUi, and the
bride in her thirty-first year. Her sister, Louisa Catherine Caton was mar->
ried in 1817, to Sir Felton Bathurst Harvey, became a widow in 1819, and
was married in 1828, to the present Duke of Leeds, then Marquis of Carmar
then. The Marquis Wellcsley's first wife, to whom he was married in 1794,
was Hyacinthe Gabriel, daughter of Mons. Roland. She died in 1816. She
had lived with the Marquis befo-i-e marriage, and had two daughters then, but
no legitimate issue. One of these daughters, married in 1812 to Mr. Littleton
(now Loi'd Hatherton), was small in person, admirable in shape, charming in

AN AMEEICAN VICE-QUEEN. 333
The Marchioness's name is Caton: she is the widow of
Mr. Patterson, and is thus allied, in some degree, with the
Bonaparte family. She came to Ireland, accompanied by her
sister, with no other object than to see the country. Having
heen introduced to the most fashionable circles, she did not at
first disclose her religion, which might have been an obstacle
to the cordiality of her reception. Her addiction to Popery
was little suspected, as may be judged from her having been
selected by Mr. Saurin as his political confidante. It was at
a party at his house (so, at least, it is rumored in Dublin)
that she first revealed her leanings toward the Pope. The
learned gentleman, whose spleen to the religion of the coun
try, considering his Huguenot descent and his fall from office,
ought to be forgiven, had indulged in violent tirades against
Lord Wellesley ; upon which the amiable widow did not hint
a comment ; and he came to an attack upon Popery, although
some symptoms of uneasiness were displayed, yet for a long
time no remonstrance was made. Mr. Saurin was not inter
rupted in his fleers at transubstantiation ; he was permitted to
indulge in some pleasantries at the expense of auricular con
fession : certain interesting anecdotes touching the Borgia
family were allowed to pass ; but when he came to Prince
Hohenloe, and opened a battery upon Bamberg, the widow
could hold no longer; and, turning upon Mr. Ex-Attorney-
. General, proclaimed herself a Papist. The dismay produced
by this intimation may be more readily conjectured than
described. Whether a slight flush came over the calm and
corrugated countenance of the host has not been stated in the
common report of this agreeable incident ; but it is said that
the fair American volunteered her interposition with Prince
Hohenloe, on behalf of her friend, in order to procure his
^restoration to office, having observed, by way of parenthesis,
that nothing less than a miracle could accomplish so appa
rently improbable an event.
manner, intellectual in conversation, and so beautiful in face that tbe Emperor
Alexander, of Eussia, who saw her (on his -visit to England, in 1814, with the
rest of the Allied Sovereigns), declared that she was the loveliest human being
eyes had ever looked at and been dazzled by. Lady Hatherton died in Janu
ary, 1849. — M.

334 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
Not very long after this convivial incident, Mrs. Patterson
was introdttced at court, and Lord Wellesley was almost
instantaneously struck with admiration of charms, of which
one hundred and fifty thousand pounds were said to constitute
a part.* Her wealth was, however, greatly exaggerated by
vulgar report; and tbe Marquis is, I believe, tbe very last
man who would be disposed to take it into a matrimonial cal
culation. Though Hymen is sometimes addicted to the study
of arithmetic, yet Lord Wellesley would never set him this
inglorious task. He offered Mrs. Patterson his hand, and was
accepted. In such a town as Dublin, so provincial in every
thing, and more especially in religion, the m-arriage of a lord-
lieutenant to a Roman Catholic lady excited no ordinary
sensation. The Catholics conceived that their creed would
receive a sanction from a pair of beautiful eyes at the Castle ;
the priests expected that she would drive in state to chapel;
and Messrs. O'Connell and Sheil did not despair that her love
of legitimate rhetoric might induce her to go iu disguise to the
gallery of the Catholic House of Commons. The hopes of
the Popish party were not a little confirmed by the nomina
tion of her private chaplain, in the person of the good-humored
and cheerful-spirited Mr. Glynn. The Orange faction, aud
especially the saints, looked on the approaching event with a
sentiment of corresponding alarm. It was idle, they said, to
expect, on the part of Lord Wellesley, any very rigid adhe
rence to the principles of the Protestant religion. How pow
erful must be the influence of a young and a beautiful wife
upon a man of careless or vacillating opinions.
These apprehensions were not a little augmented by the
announcement that the Catholic archbishop was to celebrate
* There are many reasons for belie-ving that the " lady" though rich in personal
charms, and moderately independent in circumstances, was by no means so '
wealthy as was reported. Her present pecuniaiy resources are understood to
be inconsiderable. I am in doubt whether she does not receive a pension from
the British Government or the East India Company (both of whom Marquis
Wellesley had served faithfully and with distinction), but I know that Queen
-Victoria has granted her a residence in Hampton Court Palace, a " refuge for
the destitute" among the aristocracy, in which many pauperized people of rank
are rent-free. — M.

THK VICEKOY AND HIS BEIDE. 335
the marriage. Lord Wellesley was anxious to indulge his
bride in this selection ; but Dr. Magee and his partisans pre
vailed. It was settled that the Doctor should have prece
dence ; and that, after he had " incorporated two in one," the
rival hierarch should be introduced by a postern gate, and
allay the Marchioness's religious scruples by a sacramental
confirmation of the nugatory formalities, which should have
been previously gone through by the Protestant divine. By
this arrangement, politics and theology were felicitously recon
ciled. Dr. Magee went through the ceremony with his usual
briskness and alacrity ; and so sweet and winning was the
smile with which tbe lady responded to the matrimonial pre
cept — to love, honor, and obey — that the doctor is said to
have protested that Gospel truth shone through her eyes.
Such is the fascination of beauty, even upon a mind so highly
spiritualized as the doctor's, that, since tjiis heterodox mar
riage, a considerable and even suspicious mitigation of his
opinions has been observed. The influence of the Marchioness
is matter of universal comment ; and, upon a recent occasion,
it was remarked that the Right Reverend Father in God had
acted as dcisbeo to this " dangerous Papist," and had accom
panied her to the principal mart for the sale of baby-linen in
Dublin. These circumstances had surrounded the Marchioness with
much interest, and will account for the curiosity whicli I
felt to see her. I stood in no little suspense, when it was
announced that the noble pair were making their triumphant
entry into the Rotunda. Followed by a gorgeous retinue of
richly-decorated attendants, the Viceroy and his consort ad
vanced toward the immense assembly, who received them with
acclamation. She was leaning upon his arm. He seemed
justly proud of so fair a burden. The consciousness of so
noble a possession had the effect upon him which the inspira
tions of Genius were said to have produced upon a celebrated
actor, and , he looked " six feet high," compact and well knit
together, with great alertness in his movements, and with no
further stoop than sixty winters have left upon him, with a
searching and finely-irradiated eye, and with cheeks which,

336 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
however furrowed, cany but few traces of tlie tropics. The
victor of Tippoo Saib, and the conq^ueror of Captain Rock,
entei'ed the Botunda.* I am not quite sure that there was not
a slight touch of melo-dramatic importance in his air and nian-
* In 1821, when George IV. visited Ireland — the first sovereign who had
ever landed on her shore, in friendly mood — all parties united in giving him
an enthusiastic reception. This unanimity of " loyalty" (as the Izp-service is
called, across the Atlantic), was in strong contrast with the hooting and hisses
with which, at that time, the ** illustrious" Sybarite was greeted in London, on
account of his ill-conduct toward his wife. He was as grateful for this kindness
(as unmerited as it was unexpected), and assented to the politic proposition
of his Ministers that Ireland should be treated more kindly than of yore. When
he left Dublin, he earnestly recommended the Irish (in a farew^ell epistle com
municated through Lord Sidmouth, the Home Secretary), no longer to allow
their religious distinctions to be the cause of public animosity, or personal bit
terness. — Soon after, the Tory Viceroy, Earl Talbot, was recalled, and Marquis
Wellesley, a distinguished Irishman, elder brother of the Dake of Wellington,
and a proved advocate of the Catholic claims, was sent to Dublin as his succes
sor, in December, 1821. The Catholics rejoiced at his appointment as much
as the political-Protestants grieved. He endeavored to govern with impai-tial-
ity, but could not please all parties. In 1828, when the Duke of Wellington
became Premier, and was avowedly hostile to Catholic Emancipation, Lord Wel
lesley resigned his post, but resumed it, in 1833, under the liberal Government
of Earl Grey. He finally quitted Ireland, at the end of 1834, on the forma
tion of Sir Robert Peel's first administration. The chief fe-ult of Lord Welles
ley, as Viceroy, was an overweening opinion of his own impoi-tance. What
the Bourbon said {Vetat c^est moi) was Lord Wellesley's entire conviction. He
was bom in 1760 '; educated at Eton ; succeeded his father, as Earl of MoiTiing^
ton, in 1781 ; sat in the Irish House of Lords, and in the English House of
Commons (first as member for Beernlston and then for New Windsor) ; was
made one of the Lords of the Treasm-y, and Privy Councillor in 1793, and cre
ated an English peer in 1797, when he succeeded Earl CornwaUis in the Gov
ernment of India; triumphed over Tippoo Saib and conquered the kingdom of
Mysore, with the aid of his brother Colonel Wellesley (afterwru-d The Duke);
was rewarded by an Irish Marquisate in 1799 ; was recalled, at his own request,
in 1805; was sent as Ambassador to the Supreme Junta of Spain in 1809;
became Foreign Secretary on the formation of the Perceval Ministry in the
same year; retired early in 1812, chiefly because he differed from his colleagues'
on the Catholic question; and continued in opposition until his appointment to
Ireland in 1821. In 1835, he was Lord Chamberlain, under the Melbourne
Ministry, for a short timo. He died in September, 1842, in his eighty-third
year. His mother, who died in 1831, lived to see four of her sons attain seats
in the House of Lords, solely by their merits, and as rewards of public ser
vices. — M . •

MOCKEEY OF STATE. 337
ner; and, with a good deal of genuine dignity, it occurred to
me that there was something artificial and theatrical in his
entrance upon a stage, in wbich ephemeral majesty was to be
performed. It was said by Voltaire of a real monarch, that
no man could so well perform the part of a king. " Le Role
de Roi," is a phrase which, amounting to a truism, loses its
force, perhaps, when applied to a lord-lieutenant.
Lord Wellesley seemed to me to personate his sovereign
with too elaborate a fidelity to the part, and to forget that he
was not in permanent possession of the character upon a stage
which was under the direction of such capricious managers,
and that he must speedily relinquish it to some other actor
upon our provincial boards. He is, unquestionably, a man of
very great abilities ; a speaker of the first order ; a statesman
with wide and philosophic views, who does not bound his pros
pects by any artificial horizon. He has great fame as a poli
tician, and has tbe merit of haviug co-operated with Mr,
O'Connell in the pacification of Ireland.
With these intrinsic and substantial claims to renown, it is
strange that he should rely so much upon the gewgaw of a
spurious court for his importance, and be in love with the
raree-show of vice-regal honors. A throne surmounted with a
gorgeous canopy of gold and scarlet was placed at the extrem
ity of the room for his reception ; and to this seat of mock
regality he advanced with his vice-queen, with a measured
and stately step. When he had reached this place of dignity,
his suite, formed themselves into a hollow square, aud excluded
from any too familiar approach the crowd of spectators that
thronged around. A sort of boundary was formed by the lines
of aid-de-camps, train-bearers, and pursuivants of all kinds. I
presumptuously advanced to the verge of this sacred limit,
when I was checked by an urchin page of about ten years of
age, who, dressed in flaming scarlet, and with his epaulets
dropping in woven gold to his heels, seemed to mock the con
sequence of his noble master, and with an imperious squall he
enjoined me to keep back. I obeyed this Lilliputian despot,
and retired one or two paces, but stood at such a distance as
to enable me to survey the hero and heroine of the scene.
Vol. 1—15

338 . DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
The Marquis was dressed in a rich uniform, with a profusion
of orders. He wore white pantaloons, with short boots lined
with gold, and with tassels of tbe same material. The Mar
chioness was dressed in white tabinet, crossed with a garland
of flowers. She struck me at once not only as a very fine, but
dignified woman. Nobody would have suspected that she had
not originally belonged to that proud aristocracy to which she
has been recently annexed. She has nothing of la bourgeoise
parvenue. I was surprised at the gracefulness with which she
executed her first courtesy, and the ease with which, in recov
ering from it, she brought herself back to the altitude of state
liness which I presume had been prescribed to her for the
night. Her figure appeared to me to be peculiarly well pro
portioned. Her arms and shoulders, though less suited to Hebe
than to Pomona, are finely moulded ; aud of her waist I may
justly say that it is —
" Fine by degrees, and beautifully less."
Her features approach to the classical model : they have noth
ing of that obtuseness which in Ireland is frequently observable
in countenances animated by the vivacity of youth, but which
lose their charm -when the vividness of the eye becomes im
paired, and the bloom of the cheek has begun to pass away.
The profile of Lady Wellesley is at once marked and delieate.
Her complexion has not that purity and mjlkiness of color
which belong to Irish beauty, ,but it is not, perhaps, tbe less
agreeable from having been touched by a warmer sun. Her
brows are softly and straightly pencilled ; her cheeks are well
chiselled, and an expression of permanent mildness sits upon
her lips, which I do not regard as artificial and made up. Yet
I think it too unvarying and fixed. Her smile is so sedate
and settled, that, although I had several occasions to observe
her, her countenance seemed for hours not to have undergone
the least change of expression. Some allowance ought to be
made for this immovable serenity, which it may be proper
upon a state occasion to assume ; but I am inclined to think
that this monotonous sauvity is not the mere smile of elaborate
affability, but upon a face less beautiful would amount to an

VICE-EEGAL PAEADE. 339
eternal simper. If I were called upon to point out, among the
portraitures of fictitious life, an illustration of the Marchioness
of Wellesley, I do not think that with reference to her air, her
manners, the polish and urbanity of her address, and the pla
cidity of her expression, I could select any more appropriate
than the English heroine of Don Juan — ~
" The Lady Adeline Amundeville."
The Marquis and the copartner of his honors, and sole ten
ant of his heart, having made their obeisance to the company,
seated themselves upon the throne ; and I can not help saying
that, when I saw them surrounded with all the superfluous cir
cumstance of sovereignty, and going through the mock-regal
farce, as if the whole business were not an idle and most un
substantial pageant, I felt pain at this voluntary exposure to
the ridicule of their political opponents, who seemed to gather
round for no other purpose than to pay their derisive and sar
donic homage. Upon what pretence these airs of royalty wei'e
assumed I could not even guess. The gentry of Dublin were
assembled, at the instance of Lady Wellesley, to contribute to
the promotion of Irish manufacture. This was assuredly no fit
occasion for the "unreal mockery" of evanescent pomp. I
question whether, under such circumstances, it would be proper
in a genuine king to indulge in regal parade. But it appears
to me to be out of all keeping, and to amount to no venial sin
against good taste on the part of the mere shadowy representa
tive of a sovereign, to invest himself in monarchical state, and
all " the attributes to awe and majesty."
The deportment of his Excellency tended to enhance the
burlesque of the whole business. He affected all the noncha
lance of a person accustomed to royalty. His attitude was stu
diously careless, while that vivid physiognomy, of which, with
all his practice in courts, he is not the absolute master, betrayed
his anxiety for the production of effect. One of his legs was
thrown heedlessly over the other, to indicate that he was per
fectly at his ease ; but, at the same time, his piercing and sa
gacious eye seemed to search amidst the crowd for that rever
ence both to his person and to his office, to wbich he surmised,
perhaps, that he possessed a somewhat disputable claim.

340 DUBLIN TABIHET BALL.
I was not a little amused when his Excellency's eyes encoun
tered those of that redoubtable champion of ascendency, the
Reverend Sir Harcourt Lees.* My English readers, who have
only known Sir Harcourt through the medium of his loyal
celebrity, and who have never seen the prodigy himself, may
be disposed to think Sir Harcourt a gaunt and dreary man,
with a fanatical and desolate look, and with that grim aspect
of devotion which characterized the warlike propagators of
Protestantism under the Cromwellian standard. But nothing
could be more remote from the plain realities of Sir Harcourt
than this " beau-ideal" of that distinguished personage. As
he was the next person in importance to Lord Wellesley at the
* Sir Harcoinrt Lees, who was born in 1776, and died in 1846, was the eldest
son of an Englishman who came to Ii'eland to officiate as private Secrelaiy to
Marquis Townshend, when Viceroy, ajid was successively made Secretary-at-
War, and Secretary to the Irish Postcffice — with a patent, continuing the lat
ter office in his family. Under this patent, Edward 8. Lees, the second son,
succeeded, and held the office, in Dublin, for many years, until he was induced to
sun'ender the document, and was appointed to the postoffice in Edinburgh, where
he died, after forty-six years public service. The founder of the family, who
was thus solicitous to provide for his offspring, was further honored with a bar
onetcy. His eldest son, Harcourt, succeeded to the title in 1811, on the death
of Sir .Tohn Lees, received valuable church-preferment, which, with his 'palti-
monial property, enabled him to live in good style, at Black Kock, near Dub
lin. One of the mildest and most good-natured men in private, he was bold,
abusive, and truculent in public. He was an Orangeman, and violent, beyond
all precedent, in his abuse of " O'Connell, the Pope, and the Devil" — for he
always named the three in one breath. He started a weekly newspaper called
"The Antidote," in which he was wont to empty the vials of his wrath upoir
the Catholics in general, and Mr. O'Connell in particular. He was accustomed
to predict, once every three months or so, that there would be a general rising
of the disaffected throughout Irelajid, ajid he was pei-petually sending petitions
to the King, the Lords, and the Commons, praying them to " put down
Popery" and, above all, to send O'Connell to the Tower. When " The Anti
dote" went the way of many violent party journals — i. c. " to the wall," — Sir
Harcourt transferred his lucubrations to " The Warder," another weak and
weekly organ of the Orange faction. His handwriting was the most illegible
scrawl — just as if an intoxicated spider had fallen into an inkstand, and then
crawled and scrawled- over a sheet of paper. It is to Sir Harcourt's credit that
in his charities, which were great, he made no distinction on account of reli
gion ; to want was suificicnt claim on the benevolence of this most eccentric
man. He was much liked by the Catholics whom he employed, and was On
terms almost friendly with O'Connell, against whom he was always writing. — M.

SIE HAKCOUET LEES. 341
Tabinet Ball, it may not be inapposite to say a word or two
about him.
For many years he was unknown to the public, and among
his own immediate friends was regarded as a harmless and
somewhat simple man, who could discuss a bottle of claret
much better than a homily, a daring fox-hunter, and a good-
humored divine, who would have passed without any sort of
note, but for certain flashes of singularity which occasionally
broke out, and exhibited points of character at variance with
his general habits. What was the astonishment of all Dublin,
when it was announced that this plain and unobtrusive lover
of the field was the avithor of a pamphlet filled with the most
virulent and acrimonious matter against the religion of the
country, and which almost amounted to a call on the Protest
ant population to rise up in arms and extirpate Popery from
the land ! The incongruous images, the grotesque associations,
and the mixture of drollery and absurdity, indicated some dis
temper in the writer's mind ; but the political passions which
raged at the time prevented the Protestants from perceiving
the symptoms of delirium in what they took for inspiration.
Sir Harcourt became a public man. I had never seen him
before the publication of his book, and was a good deal sur
prised to find that all this uproar had been produced by a little
lumpish man, who rather looked like a superannuated jockey
than a divine, with an equestrian slouch in his walk, and the
manger in his face, and with a mouth the graceful configuration
of which appeared to have been formed by the humming of
that stable-melody with which the application of the curry
comb is generally accompanied.*
* Sir Harcourt Lees dressed vei-y much unlike a clergyman — or even a gen
tleman. A rusty and broad-brimmed hat covered his head. He shaved some
times, and the unfrcquency did not improve his face. Round his neck was
twisted a sort of rope of cambric, which probably had been white. On his back
was a shabby black coat, much too large for him, which appeared guiltless, since
it was built, of the slightest coquetry with a clothes-brash. The rest of his body
was contained within -a capacious pair of drab inexpressibles, his legs were en
cased in riding-boots with light brown tops, and his hands were never "pent
Up" on any occasion, in the " Utica" of a pair of gloves. He always carried a
huge horsewhip, and, whether he walked or rode, perpetually whistled " The
Fox-hunter's Jig."— M.

34:2 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
After looking at this singular figure which the tutelary ge
nius of the Church had chosen for its residence, I gave up all
my belief in physiognomy, and renounced Lavater for ever.
I have since heard that the doctrines of Gall are by no means
so much contradicted by the head of this celebrated person as
the theory of the Swiss philosopher is refuted by his face ; and
that divers protuberances are observable upon Sir Harcourt's
pericranium, in which vanity, ferocity, and ambition, together
with certain other of the polemical faculties, may be easily
discerned. It is even whispered that a disciple of Gall, who
recently came over from Edinburgh, discovered some bumps
upon the head of Doctor Magee, between which and the skull
of Sir Harcourt there was a remarkable affinity. In the for
mer there was a much larger quantity of brain, but the theo
logical passions of Sir Harcourt are not less prominently pro
nounced. It has been added, but I can not take upon myself
to say with what truth, that a curious speculator in that fantasr
tic science has caused the skull of the last Sir Thomas Osborne
to be dug up, and that the resemblance between Sir Harcourt
and that eminent author is truly surprising.
But I feel that I am digressing. Enough to say that Sir
Harcourt's success in his first essay against Popery led to other
achievements in controversy, and that he was at length recog
nised beyond all dispute as the most appropriate champion of
the Irish Church. His whole character may be summed up in
a single sentence of Swift : " He bath been poring so long upon
Fox's ' Book of Martyrs,' that he imagines himself living in the
reign of Queen Mary, and is resolved to set up as a knight-
errant against Popery."
The meeting between the Marquis Wellesley and this cele
brated person at tbe Tabinet Ball excited all my attention. I
did not perceive the latter, until a certain expression of defi
ance, which suddenly came into the Marquis's face, directed
my notice to the quarter toward which he was looking, when I
beheld, exactly opposite his Excellency, the chief though not
very majestic pillar of the Establishment. The worthy Baro
net bad thrown an expression of derision into his countenance,
and did not look very unlike a picture of Momus upon Mr. Lis-

THE HEIE OF THE GEEALDINES. 348
ton's snuff-box.* The Marquis might readily have conjectured
that he was laughing at him, and tbat the recollection of his
Excellency's exploits was not a little amusing. Seated upon
the throne, with his clinched band resting upon his thigh, and
his marked and diplomatic visage protruded in all the intensity
of expression for which it is remarkable, the most noble and
puissant Marquis shot his fine and indignant eyes into the soul
of his antagonist; while Sir Harcourt^ with a half-waggish and
half-malevolent aspect, blending the grin of an ostler with the
acrimony of a divine, encountered the lofty look of the chief
governor of Ireland with a jocular disdain, and gave him to
understand that a man of his theological mettle Was not to be
subjugated by a frown. This physiognomical encounter lasted
for a few minutes ; and but that Master Ellis, touching Sir Har
court upon the shoulder, relieved the Marquis from his glance,
the result would in all probability have been, that, indignant
at the spirit of mockery that pervaded the features of the Bar
onet, his Excellency would have yielded to his emotions, and,
starting up in a paroxysm of imaginary royalty, have exclaimed,
"Ay, every inch a king!"
The next person in importance to Sir Harcourt was his Grace
the Duke of Leinster.f With the highest rank, and a magnifi-
'^ John Listen, the best low comedian of his time, possessed much natural
humor, naturally illustrated by peculiar features which, whether in repose
or action, were remarkably mirth-exciting. The moment an audience saw his
face, they felt compelled to laugh, He had the merit, rare in actors, of not
playing to his audience : what he said and did was apparently iircspective of
any spectators. He was of a very melancholy temperament, though he caused
wit and mirth in others. He realized a large fortune, at the London theatres.
In 1831, he had one hundred pounds sterling a week from Madame Vestris,
at the Olympic (a small theatre, in an inconvenient by-sti'eet), and remained
on this engagement for the last six years of his professional life. Ten years
elapsed between his retirement and his death, which took place in 1846, in his
sixty-ninth year. — M.
+ The Duke of Leinster — " Ireland's only Duke" and premier Marquis, is
head of the noble house of Fitzgerald, the founder of which came to England
with William the Conqueror, in 1066. Maurice Fitzgerald, who accompanied
Henry IL, in 1172, and assisted in the subjugation of Ireland was rewarded
with a large grant of land in Leinster, and was appointed one of the Govei-nors
of the conquered country. Hia son Gerald, was created Lord of Offaley, in 1216,
which title continues, held "by tenure" — which marks its antiquity. Tha

344 DUBLIN TABINKT BALL.
cent estate, and with a name to which so many national reeol-
lections are painfully but endearingly allied, it must be con
fessed that the first peer iu Ireland, notwith.standing so many
claims upon the public respect, is less sensibly felt, and pro
duces an impression less distinct and palpable, than the re
nowned champion of tbe Cburch. The one is at the head of
the nobles and the otber of the Protestants of Ireland ; and
however insane the alacrity of Sir Harcourt may appear, there
is something in enthusiasm, be it genuine or afiected, which is
preferable to the inactive honesty and the inoperative integrity
of the Duke. The latter is descended from the first Norman set
tlers in Ireland. The Fitzgeralds gradually became attached
to the country, and were designated as the ultra-Irish, from the
barbarous nationality, of which, in the coin-se of that series of
rebellions dignified by tbe name of Irish history, they gave
repeated proof. Tbey were of tbat class of insurgents who
earned the ignominious appellation of "Hibernis ipsis Hibernio-
res.'' I recollect to have seen their pedigree upon a piece of mould
ering parchment, which was produced at a trial in Waterford,
connected with the royalties of Dromona, and had been brought
by a messenger from the Tower in London. It was a very
remarkable document. The Avords " attainted" or " beheaded"
were annexed to tbe names of more than half the members of
this illustrious house.
The love of Ireland appears to have been a family disease,
representative of this house was created Earl of Kildare, in 1316, and the hol
der of this Earldom was made Viscount Leinster, in the English peerage, in
1745-'6. The Lish Marquisate of Kildare was conferred, in 1761, and the
Dukedom in 1766. The present Duke of Leinster, who lives mostly in England,
has always professed Whig principles, which are usually anti-Irish. Bom in
1791, the Duke was only in his seventh year, when his gallant and unfortunate
uncle. Lord Edward Fitzgerald, perished, in 1798. So much undistinguished
has the Duke's life been (the Irish significantly call him " a chip in ponidgfi")
that the only noticeable thing connected with him, recorded on the tablets of
my memory, is the anecdote of his i-isiting Beau Brunimcll, at his rcti'eat iu
Caen. The Duke, who was fresh from Paris, where he had aviiiled himself of
the adorning aid of a French tailor, asked the Beau what ho thought of his
coat? Brummell, taking hold of the collar of it delicately, between his finger
and thumb, smiled contemptuously and drawled out, " My dear fellow, do you
call this thing — a coat?" — M.

LOED EDWAED FITZGEEALD. 346
and to have descended to the unfortunate Lord Edward as a
malady of the heart, although the sanguinary record of the
vh'tues of his house did not include his name ; hut it was
impossible to look upon that memorial of the scaffold, without
recalling the memory of the celebrated person whose failure
constituted so large a portion of his crime.* It may be readily
imagined, that when the Duke of Leinster returned to L-eland
after having attained his full age, in order to take possession
* Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whose trag^ic fate has excited much sympathy,
was only thirty-five years old, in 1798, when the Irish insurrection broke out.
He served in America as aide-de-camp to Lord Rawdon, and on his return
home, in 1783, obtained a seat in the Irish House of Commons, which he did .
not long retain, finding legislation insipid. He returned to America, where
he imbibed republican principles. William Cobbett, who was Serjeant-Maior in
his regiment, was discharged through his influence, and described him as " a
most humane and excellent man, and the only real honest officer he ever knew
in the army." On Lord Edward's return, in 1790, he re-entered Parliament : vis
ited Paris, during the Eevolution, got acquainted with Paine ; desired his
mother to address him as " Le Citoyen Edward Fitzgerald," assisted at a pub
lic dinner in celebration of the successes of the French armies ; publicly re
nounced his title ; declared himself a republican ; and, in consequence, was
dismissed the British army. He married Pamela, supposed to be Madame de
Genlis's daughter by the Duke of Orleans (Egalite) ; returned to Dublin ; became
one of the United Irishmen, joined an armed association against which the
Viceroy issued a proclamation ; made a Parliamentary attack on the Viceroy
and the majority of the House of Commons, as being " the worst subjects the
King had ;" — apologized by saying, " I ani sony for it ;'' went to Paris, to en
gage the Directory to aid the contemplated revojt against British authority ;
was suspected by the Government, who issued a waiTant for his apprehension,
but gave him several opportunities of escape, which he declined, saying he was
too much involved with others to obtain safety without dishonor; had a thou
sand pounds offered for his apprehension ; was discovered in a place of con
cealment; killed one of his pursuers with a dagger; was himself wounded and
overpowered ; and died soon after, in June, 1798. He was attainted, as a traitor,
by the Crown, and one of Curran's best speeches was against the injustice of
their assuming the guilt of a man neither tried nor convicted, and of debarring
his children from their birth-right. The attainder was removed by George IV.,
which elicited a sonnet of thanks from Lord Byron. The widow of Lord Ed
ward went to reside at Hamburgh, but married again within two years. There
appears to have been only one opinion, and that most favorable, of the fi'ank
nature, the chivalrous bearing, the active benevolence, the high honor, the gal
lant courage, and the unselfish patriotism of Lord Edward. He was uncle to
the present Duke of Leinster. — M. 15*

346 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
of his estates, he was an object of great national interest.
The associations connected with his name had already secured
him the partialities of the country. ' His frank and open air,
the unaffected urbanity of his manners, the kindness and cor
diality which distinguished his address, and an expression of
dignified good nature in his physiognomy, brought back the
recollection of Lord Edward, and gave to his young kinsman
a share in the affectionate respect with which the guilty patri
otism of that chivalrous nobleman is regarded in Ireland.
Pew were sufficiently rash to desire that the Duke of Leinster
should engage in an enterprise so little likely to be successful,
as that which cost Lord Edward his life. Almost all men had
become sensible of the hopelessness of such an undertaking :
but it was expected that, while the chief of the house of
Fitzgerald would abstain from any criminally adventurous
speculation, he would, notwithstanding, place himself at the
head of the popular party; that he would rally round him
the friends of the country ; that he would extend to good
principles the authority of his rank, and rescue the spirit of
Irish whiggism from the scoff with which it had been the
fashion in the higher circles to deride it.
A scope of political usefulness was unquestionably given to
the Duke. It would have been easy for him to raise up a
legitimate and salutary opposition to the abuses of the local
government, which were at that time excessive, and to have
awed the viceregal despotism of the Duke of Richmond into
moderation. There was enough of public virtue left among
the aristocracy, to turn it to good practical account, if there
had been any man capable of giving it a direction ; and of all
others, the young Duke of Leinster, from his paramount rank
and hereditary station, seemed to be calculated to take the
honorable lead. What might not a Duke of Leinster, with
even ordinary abilities, and with an active, steadfast, and
energetic mind, accomplish in this country ? He might place
himself at once in the front of a vast and ardent population,
and become not only the protector of the Catholics, but the
flirectnrof the whole body of liberal Protestants in Ireland.
'ihe distinctions of sect would, under his influence, be merged

THE DUKE OF LEINSTEE. 347
in the community of country, and all religious animosities give
way to a comprehensive and philosophical sentiment of nation
ality. He would be the point of contact, at which the con
tending factions might meet and cohere together. His rank
and property would attract the men who profess illiberal
opinions as much out of fashion as out of prejudice ; while the
democratic parts would find in his name and blood a sufficient
guaranty for his fidelity to Ireland. Having been once asso
ciated in a stricter intimacy, it is likely that the enthusiasts on
both sides would lay down a large portion of their antipathies,
and acquire a feeling of forbearance toward each other. Par
tisanship would in a little time subside, and Catholics and
Orangemen would enter into a pacific confederacy for the
public good.
Such a junction, formed under the auspices of a Duke of
Leinster, would secure to him the respect of a wise, and the
fears of a corrupt administration. His opinions among the
hereditary counsellors of the crown would carry a paramount
authority. His voice in the senate would be that of seven mil
lions of his fellow-countrymen ; Ireland would speak through
him. The "consciousness of the minister that, in times of
difficulty aud of danger, the Irish people could readily find a
man who would insist upon justice — who, sustained by a
united population, could insure whatever he required — would
instruct the most arbitrary statesman in the anticipating wis
dom of concession. It is difficult to conceive a more lofty or a
more useful part, than that which it would be easy for a DuEce
of Leinster to perform ; and the facility with which this ideal
picture would be realized, induces the move regret that a per
son surrounded with such numerous opportunities of doing
good should have omitted the splendid occasions thrown by
birth and fortune in his way. He has voluntarily consigned
himself to oblivion.
It required, indeed, that he should make a sort of effort to
be forgotten. He has at last succeeded in sinking ont of the
recollection of the public. He has, if I may so say, dived into
Lethe, from which he hardly ever lifts his head. The first
injudicious step which he adopted was the sale of his magnifi-

34? DrBLIN TABINET BALL.
cent mansion in Merrion Square. It surpasses any private
residence in London, and rather resembles the palace of a
Venetian senator than the b'm.se of a British subject. That
vast structure, upon which enormous sums bad been expended
by his father, was a perpetual intimation of the importance of
tbe Duke, as long as it was called Leinster House ; but after
be had sold it to the Dublin Societj', and its original designa
tion Avas laid aside, a memorial of the family was wanting,
which tbe Duke's political conduct was not calculated to sup
ply. He was not contented with this disposal of his family
mansion, but took a small house in Dominick street, which he
dignified with tbe appellation of tbe Duke of Leinster's Office.
Many ascribed tbe sale of his palace (for such it might be
called) to a penurious tendency; but, although the Duke is a
prudent man, be i^ not, I believe, addicted to tbat most ignoble
of all \ices, and avarice forms no part of his character. The
truth is, that the Duke of Leinster is wholl}- insensible to
fame ; and such is his aversion to publicity, tbat I could never
bring myself to give any credit to tbe statement in Harriet
Wilson's Memoirs, tbat his Grace was in the habit of standing
behind her carriage.* He bas such a horror of the general
eye, tbat I hold it to be impossible that he could ever have
achieved a piece of such open and undisguised gallantry as
tbe modern Aspasia has been pleased to ascribe to him.
After having sold his house, the Duke retired to tbe woods
and solitudes of Carton.t There be buried himself from the
* "The Memoirs of Harriet Wilson," which -(vore published about 1824,
professed to be written by a noted London courtesan, one of whose sisters had
married Lord Berwick, a wealthy peer in Shropshire. This book, which was
¦written on "black-mail" principle, was crowded with details of Miss Wilson's
amours, aud brought in the names of most of her very cxteusivo acquaintance
with the fashionable and aristocratical men of her time. She made a consid
erable sum by the sale of the work, and yet more by what she received for the
suppression of scandals, whether true or false. With this money, Haniet
Wilson retired to Paris, where a French Colonel manied her. Twenty years
after, she returned to England, affected to have become an imminent Christian,
and died in 1846. — M.
t Carton, in the County of Kildare, ia the family mansion and estate of th.i
Duke of Leinster. It was purchased, in January, 1738-'9, by Robert, nine
teenth Earl of Kildare, from Thomas Ingoldsby, in Buckinghamshire, Eng
land. — M.

A NOBLE WOODMAN. 349
inspection, and gradually dropped out of tbe notice, of the
country. Having a turn for mechanics, be provided himself
with a large assortment of carpenters' tools, and beguiled the
tedium of existence with occupations by which his arms were
put into requisition. There is not a better sawyer in the
county of Kildare. As you wander through the forests on his
demesne, you occasionally meet a vigorous young woodman,
with his shirt tucked up to his shoulders, while he laj's the axe
to the trunk of some lofty tree that totters beneath his stroke.
On approaching, you perceive a handsome face, flushed with
exercise and health, and covered with perspiration. Should
you enter into conversation with him, he will throw off a few
jovial words between every descent of the axe ; and, if he
should pause in his task for breath, will hail you in the tone
of good-humored fellowship. He sets to his work again ;
while you pursue your path through the woodlands, and hear
from the ran.ger of the forest tbat you have just seen no less
a person than his Grace himself.
In the midst of these innocent employments, the Duke of
Leinster passes away a life which ought to be devoted to
higher purposes. It is with tbe utmost difficulty that he is
occasionally dragged out of his retreat, and consents, some
once a-year, to fill the chair at a public meeting. But he
takes no part in the deliberations or the mea,9ures of popular
assemblies, for which be entertains an unaffected distaste, and
hurries back to his domestic occupations again. The result
has been, that he not only holds no place in tbe public estima
tion beyond that which his private virtues confer upon him,
but he is without any influence at the Castle. Shortly after
Lord Wellesley came to Ireland, the Duke called to pay his
respects to his Excellency, who sent him an intimation that he
was at the moment too busily engaged to see him, but that, in
case he called again, he should be happy to receive his Grace.
At the Tabinet Ball (from which I have made a wide
digression, into somewhat too serious, if not extraneous mat
ter), it was easy to observe that the Duke of Leinster, sur
rounded as he was by all the provincial rank and wealth of
Dublin, was not an object of much public concern. As he

350 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
mingled among the various circles in the saloon, some person,
who chanced to know him, just mentioned, "There is the Duke
of Leinster;" while his Grace, neither attracting nor caring
for any further notice, passed on without heed to some other
part of the room. How different an impression would he have
produced, bad he taken the more active and intrepid part,
to which his fortunes appeared to invite him ! The mock
regality of a lord-lieutenant would fade at once before him.
The representative of a nation would stand superior to the
delegate of the king. But, in drawing this contrast, it would
be an injustice not to add, that, after all, tbe Duke of Leinster
has a right to make a selection of happiness for himself. He
has no ambition. Nature bas not mixed that mounting quality
in his blood which teaches men to aspire to greatness, and
makes them impatient of subordination. If he is deficient in
energy, and is without the temperament necessary for high
enterprise, he is adorned by many gentle and perhaps redeem
ing virtues. His life is blameless in every domestic relation';
and if he is not admired, he is prized, at least bj' all those
who are acquainted with him. He looks, and I am convinced
he is, an exceedingly happy man ; and has at all events one
of the chief means of felicity, in the amiable and accomplished
woman to whom he is united.
Tbe Duchess of Leinster accompanied her husband to the
Tabinet Ball. Thi.s excellent lady is one of tbe daughters of
Lord Harrington.* She has been some years married to the
Duke, and has the reputation of being a most affectionate
mother and wife. Although an Englishwoman, she prefers
Ireland to her own country, and has never seduced her hus
band into absenteeism. Lady Morgan should make a heroine
' The Duchess of Leinster, was aunt of the 4th Earl of Herrington, formerly
known in fashionable life as Lord Petersham, who manied Maria Foote, the
lively actress, in 1831, and died in 1851. His brother, known as Colonel Lei
cester Stanhojjp, Byron's intimate and companion in Greece is the present Earl
and manied the beautiful Miss Green, niece to Mr. Hall, now Chief Police
magistrate, at Bow street, London. This lady, some twenty years ago, when
in the bloom of youth, was considered one of the most beautiful women in tlio
fashionable world of London. — M.

THE DUCHESS OF LEINSTEE. 361
of her.* Few persons are more esteemed and loved than she
is. There is a charm in her kind and good-hearted manners,
which engages the partiality of those about her, and converts
that respect which is due to her station into regard. I have
never seen any lady of her distinction in society so wholly
free from assumption. There is the enchantment of sincerity
in her sweet demeanor, which, in the manners of the great,' is
above every other charm. She is not beautiful ; but there is
about her —  " Something than beauty dearer.
That for a face not beautiful does more
Than beauty for the fairest face can do."
A look of benignity, united with a pleasant and vivacious
smile, makes you forget a certain want of regularity in her
features. I do not quite like her deportment and gait. There
seems to be a weakness in her limbs, which prevents a steadi
ness and measure of movement, necessary for a perfect grace
fulness of head. But it is only after a minute observation,
made in the spirit which is " nothing if not critical," that any
such imperfections are discerned, and they are speedily forgot
ten in the-feeling of kindness which her noble gentleness can
not fail to produce.
It was amusing to observe the contrast between the unosten
tatious affability of her Grace, and the factitious loftiness of
„the other titled patronesses of the ball. Lady Wellesley had
nominated a certain number of vice-presidents of the dance,
who were directed to appear with a head-dress of ostrich-
feathers, by way of distinguishing them from the ladies to
whom that high function had not been confided. Accordingly,
about a dozen heads, stuck with a profusion of waving plu
mage, lifting their nodding honors above the crowd. These
* Lady Morgan, whose maiden name was Sydney Owenson, was daughter
of an actor, who anglicized his patronimic Mac-Owen, and was a good per
former of Irish characters. Her novel, "The Wild Irish Girl," brought her
into notice, and her works, principally travels and fiction, have obtained her
much reputation. She wrote the well-knowu song of " Kate Kearney." She
married Sir Charles Morgan, a medical man in Dublin. The British Govern
ment has given her a pension of three hundred pounds sterling a year. She
Uves .'-1 London, but her failing sight and the weight of nearly eighty years,
have CO. spelled her to relinquish her literary pursuits. — M.

352 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
reminded me of the Mexican princesses in prints of Montp-
zuma's court, which I have seen iu the History of New Spain.
The absence of any superfluity of attire did not make the
resemblance less striking. It was pleasant to observe the
authoritative simper with which they discharged their high-
plumed office, and intimated the important part which they
were appointed to play in this fantastic scene. Upon the vul
gar in the crowd, such as the wives of rich burghers, of opulent
attorneys, and of stuff-gown lawyers, they looked with ineffable
disdain ; and even to the fat consorts of the aldermen, they
scarcely extended a smile of supercilious recognition.
Busily engaged among the latter, I observed Mr. Henry
Grattan, who was then a candidate, and is now a representa
tive of the city of Dublin. This gentleman was not a little
strenuous at the Tabinet Ball, in his attentions to the ladies,
both young and elderly, of the Corporation. He had, upon a
former occasion, been defeated by Master Ellis, through the
influence of the civic authorities, and was determined to con
ciliate the leading members of the powerful body by which he
had been successfully opposed. He is a singular example of
perseverance, and, I rejoice to add, of success, in the steadfast
pursuit of an honorable object. His name, the veneration in
which his father's memory is so justly held by every true lover
of his country, and the earnest which he has himself already
given of eminent abilities and of public virtue, gather much of
the popular solicitude about him, and render his career in par
liament a matter of interesting speculation. Some mention of
this young senator, whose foot is yet upon the threshold of the
House, may not be inappropriate. " How widely," the reader
may say, " do you deviate from the Tabinet Ball !" Be it so.
I set down my thoughts as they flow carelessly from my pen.
A word or two, then, of Mr. Henry Grattan.* He is the
* Mr. Henry Grattan continued to ait in Parliament for along series of years
and was uniformly constant in his attendance, and liberal in his principles.
He usually voted with O'Connell. He is not a member of the present Parlia
ment. Although pains-taking and industrious, as a business-man, his public
course has not been vei-y distinguished. He has published a very reliable and
interesting work, — his father's " Life and Times," which is indispensable to
the student of Irish history. — M.

THE TOUNf.EE GEATTAN. 353
second son of the great Irishman, of whom it may be so justly
said : — " Magnum et venerabile nomen,
Gentibus, et nostne multum quod prodeat urbi."
His father took, from the earliest period, the most anxious care
of his mind, upon which he set a high value. I bave been
assured by a gentleman, whose authority I could not for a
moment question, that the late Mr. Grattan, in presenting his
son to his tutor at Trinity College, expressed his conviction of
his superior qualifications, and said that he hoped to leave
"his Henry" as a noble bequest to his country. The great
patriot saw in the mind of his son what Doctor Johnson calls
"the latent possibilities of excellence;" and he was anxious,
as well from a national as from a parental feeling, to bring
them forth. Mr. Henry Grattan, while in college, enjoyed the
double advantage of an excellent system of public education,
and of having a domestic pattern of the admirable in eloquence
and in patriotism perpetually before his eyes. His career in
the University was highly honorable; and in the Historical
Society, which, if it were not a school of genuine oratory, was
at all events a useful nursery of declamation, obtained univer
sal plaudits. Having taken his degrees with credit, he entered
the Temple, and went through the usual masticating process,
by which the British youth are initiated into the mysteries of
the law. He became, while in London, a member of the
society called "The Academic," which holds debates upon all
the entities, and distinguished himself by a force and strenu-
ousness of elocution to which that debating assocation was little
accustomed. Upon his return to Dublin, after having gone
through his two years' novitiate, and eaten his way to the Bar,
he dedicated himself to political rather than to forensic pur
suits. His illustrious father had been unkindly, and, in -[n'y
judgment, ungi-atefully treated by tbe Irish Catholics. Mr.
Henry Grattan resented these injuries with more asperity than
it was, perhaps, judicious to have expressed, and involved
himself in some personal altercations, which are now happily
forgotten. Having a turn for composition, but not being suf
ficiently versed in the arts of vituperative insinuation, he pub-

354 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
lished one or two articles in the " Evening Post," of too undis
guised a kind, against the Duke of Richmond, which produced
a prosecution.* He bad a narrow escape from the fangs of
Mr. Saurin, and was, I believe, obliged to remunerate the pro
prietor of the newspaper at no little cost. The great aggrava
tion of his satire was its truth. His celebrated father was, it,
is understood, a good deal annoyed by the results of these first
essays in invective, which obliged him to paj' to the King a
portion of what he had received from the people.
Until his death, his son did not come directly forward upon
the political stage; but when tbat great man had been depos
ited in Westminster Abbey (neither Grattan nor Curran is
buried in Irish earth),1 his son offered himself as a candidate
for the representation of the city of Dublin. It ought to have
descended to him as an inheritance. He appeared on the
hustings with the incomparable services of his illustrious father'
as his advocate. He combined with the legitimate claims
derived from so illustrious a name great personal merit. Tet
so high ran the prejudices of party, that Master Ellis, whose
only title arose from his hostility to the Catholics, was pre
ferred to him, and the services of the best and most lofty-
minded Irishman that ever lived were shamefully forgotten.
Painful as such a defeat unquestionably was, he did not relin
quish the object on wbich his heart was set; and havmg
* The Dublin Evening Post, one of the most respectable journals of Ireland,
was long an advocate of the Catholic party. After the passing of the Emanci
pation Bill, in 1829, it became the organ of the Government. For the last
thirty years it was edited by a liberal and able Protestant, Frederick William
Conway ; who died in 1853. — M.
+ The ashes of Curran now repose in the land which he loved so well, and
in which his genius and patriotism, are reverenced as they deserve. He diej
on the 14th of October, 1817, and was buried in Paddington Church, London.
In 1834, it was determined to remove his remains to Ireland, and a Committee, '
sitting in Dublin, managed the details. The coffi,. was received on its arrival
by Curran's son and another, was deposited temporarily in the mausoleum at
Lyons, the seat of Cun-an's friend, Lord Cloncuny, and was thence taken to
Glasnevin Cemetery, where it lies beneath a magnificent monument of granite,
on the model of the tomb of Scipio, on which is carved the one word CURRAN
whiph is sufficient for such aman. — Grattan was buried in Westminister Abbey,
where rest all that was mortal of many Illustrious men. — M.

"the tenth." 355
ascertained that a number of Eoman Catholics had omitted to
register their freeholds, by his own personal exertions, and by
individual application, he created such a counteraction to the
suffrages of the freemen, that, at the last election, he was
returned for the city. He did not, at the same time, omit any
effort to disarm the corporators of their prejudices, and by
every species of legitimate assiduity endeavored to charm their
antipathies away. He accordingly paid to the Orange poten
tates of the Corporation a diligent and obsequious attention.
I observed him actively engaged in this part of his vocation
at the Tabinet Ball. No man laughed more loudly at certain
reminiscences from " Joe Miller," which Alderman — — was
pouring, as original anecdotes, into his ear. The new and
graceful pleasantry of the worthy corporator appeared to throw
Mr. Grattan into convulsions of merriment, though now and
then, in the intervals of laughter, I could perceive an expres
sion of weariness coming over his face, and that effort over the
oscitating organs, with which an incipient yawn is smothered
and kept in.
My attention was suddenly diverted from this political
tete-a-tete, by an ejaculation of ennui, which was uttered by a
young English officer,* who was lounging, with two of his
* In 1823-'24, a cavalry regiment called the Tenth Hussars, fonned part of the
garrison of Dublin. Its officers were chiefly, if not wholly, members of aristocrat
ic families in England, and looked down with unconcealed contempt upon every
grade 6f society in the Irish Metropolis. They condescended, sometimes, merely
pour passer le temps — to partake of dinners and appear at balls given by the
"natives" in Dublin. Here they usually conducted themselves on the "Nil
admirari" principle, and showed what magnificent ideas of their own impor-
topce were entertained — by themselves. On one occasion, the lady of the
house at which there was a rout, good-naturedly asked one of these officers
whether sheshould introduce him to a charming partner for a quadrille ? The
reply, delivered with a pause between each word, was, " Thank you, but, the
Tenth don't daunce !" Another time, an Irish peeress told one of these carpet-
knights that a lovely young woman near him was heiress to an immense for
tune, and asked if he would not like to make her acquaintance, and try to win
the prize ? " I'm not a marrying man, myself," was the reply, " but, I shall
mention her at mess !" — The excellent comedy (by Croly, the poet and divine),
called, " Pride shall have a Fall," in which a party of puppy-officers are intro
duced and ridiculed, owed some of its success to its presumed intention of
satirizing "The Tenth."— M.

356 DUBLIN TABIN1-.T BALL.
military compatriots, through the room. This triumvirate of
coxcombs trailed themselves, with an affected listlessness,
along, and vented their depreciation of Ireland in elaborately
English intonations. They were apparently anxious to give
intimation of their superior country ; for they put more of
their national accent into their voices than well-bred English
men are accustomed to do, and seemed vain of the anti-Irish
drawl, in which the spirit of mingled tedium and of derision
was expressed.
One of them was a handsome and well-formed fellow, the
manliness of whose person made a singular contrast with the
artificial effeminacy with which his countenance was invested.
He lisped in a deep guttural voice, and played with his whiskers
as if tbey were the bow-strings of Cupid. I was not a little
amused by the languid complacency with which this athletic
Narcissus seemed to contemplate himself His companion on
the right, was tbe exact reverse of the captain in manner and
in aspect; for, with a feeble and fragile form, and the cheek
of a v.'oman, he put on an air of warlike defiance, and looked
as Madame Vestris would in the part of Pistol. The other
was a huge booby in gold and scarlet, with great meanless
eyes falling out of their sockets, and with features thrown in a
chaos together.
His business appeared to be to grin at the captain's wit, and
turn up a pair of dilated nostrils, through which he snorted his
disdain of Ireland. These gentlemen were joined by an old
officer, who was evidently a man of rank, before whom they
immediately assumed an aspect of deference : like themselves
he was an Englishman, but of a very different sort. He had
the marks of long service on his face, which was of a strongly
martial cast. There was no exhibition of haughty fierceness
in his air; but his fine intelligent eye had tbat calm intensity
of observation which denotes the "couj^-d'mil viilitaire." His
features were aquiline, his color was tinged by the Spanish
sun, and his physiognomy united great natural sweetness of
expression with the familiar habits of command. He said that
he had been greatly delighted with all that he had seen, and
had no notion that Dublin could produce such a display of

MISS O'CONNELL. 357
elegance, opulence, and beauty. He rallied his young friends
upon the loss of their hearts, and the likelihood of their carry
ing back Irish wives to England. Against the possibilities of
such a misadventure in matrimony they vehemently protested,
and enlarged upon the huge feet and monstrosities of ankle
exhibited by the Irish fair.
A ponderous lady, the wife of an honest burgher, was
bouncing at the moment through the mazes of the third set,
and seemed to be in that interesting condition which a lady
of fashion, in " The Vicar of Wakefield," describes as being
" all oyer in a muck of sweat." To make the matter worse,
she took it into her head that the officers had selected her as
an object of admiration ; and throwing a look of gretisy ama-
tiveness into her face, renewed ber efforts at tbe graceful with
a desperate agility. I felt some mertification at the oppor
tunity for ridicule, which was afforded to the young English
men by this piece of animated corpulency ; but I was relieved
by the elder officer, who pointed to a young lady in au adjoin
ing circle of dancers, whom it was only necessary to look at
for an instant, in order to feel the influence which perfect
beauty will create in the rudest mind. With all tbeir disposi
tion to find fault, the party of military critics at once admitted
that the taste of the old colonel could not be impeached, aud
that such a face and fig-ure would almost justify the violation
of the regimental rule, "not to marry in Ireland."
The impression produced by the girl whom the venerable
veteran had selected, diverted my attention from the com
mentaries of the English officers. Though not tall, her figure
had the perfection of youthful symmetry. Her limbs were of
the finest mould, and with the round plumpness of health,
united an aerial lightness and grace. The beautiful epithet
which Prospero applies to the sweet minister of his spells,
seemed to belong to this fascinating person, who looked as
" delicate" as Ariel. Her dress was simple : it consisted
merely of a pink . tabinet, without decoration. A wreath of
flowers bound the black hair, the ringlets of which just shaded
the marble of her forehead, but fell in " ambrosial plenty"
behind. Her features, although somewhat minute, had the

358 DUBLIN TABINET BALL.
Siddonian character. Thought and sensibility were mingled
like the white and red roses in her cheek. Her eyes were of
the finest black; but, although they were both sweet. and bril
liant, there was an expression about them which I was at first
at some loss to define. I afterward perceived that it arose
merely from a shortness of sight. I could have remained, as
Oroonoko says, gazing " whole nights'' upon her, when happily,
perhaps, for as much heart as yet abides within me, her chapt'
ron warned her, at the conclusion of the dance, that it was
time to retire. The morning, indeed, had just begun to show
a face scarcely more beautiful, and, as if jealous of such a rival
as Miss O'C  , admonished her to depart.* ,She drew her
shawl round her bosom, with a grace which Canova should
have turned to marble, and disappeared amidst the crowd who
were pouring out of the room. I remained for some moments
in that state of revery, which, in my younger days, I mistook
for romance, with the image of the lady before me. I was
roused from my dream, however, by the recollection that I was
past thirty, and that it was five o'clock. The company were
gone. I stood alone, where hundreds had recently met in a
joyous and brilliant concourse ; and I felt how justly, as well
as beautifully, Moore has compared the recollections of our
youth to the sensations of one
" Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted.
Whose lights are iled.
Whose garlands dead.
And all but he departed; —
Thus in the stilly night, ere slumber's chain has bound me.
Sad memory brings the light of other days around me." '
* I have reason to believe that the lady, whose portrait is thus beautifiilly
painted in words, was a daughter of Mr. O'Connell. At that time, she was in
the pride of youth and loveliness. All of O'Connell's children were well-look
ing ; his daughters were remarkable for their personal attractions. — M.

CATHOLIC LEADEES AND ASSOCIATIOINS.
I NOW propose to give some account of tile various bodies
which have successively managed the concerns of the Oathor
lies, and of the individuals who have taken the most active
part in their affairs.*
Catholic Associations have been of very long existence. The
Confederates of 1642 were the precursors of the Association of
1828. The Catholics entered into a league for the assertion
of their civil rights. They opened their proceedings in the
city of Kilkenny, where the house is shown in which their as
semblies were held. They established two different bodies to
represent the Catholic people — namely, a general assembly,
and a supreme council. The first included all the lords, pre
lates, and gentry, of the Catholic body ; and' the latter con
sisted of a few select members, chosen by the general assembly
out of the different provinces, who acted as a kind of executive,
and were recognised as their supreme magistrates. These
were " the Confederates." Carte, in his " Life of Ormonde,"
calls them " an Association." He adds that the first result of
their union was an address to the King [Charles I.], in which
they demanded justice, and besought him " timely to assign a
place where they might with safety express their grievances."
On receiving this address, the King issued a commission under
the great seal, empowering the commissioners to treat with the
* This sketch, full of historical and personal interest, appeared in October,
1828, and was marked "To be continued" — an unfulfilled promise, probably
caused by Mr. Sheil's " invasion of Kent" (immediately after it was written),
as related in die next volume. — M.

360 CATHOLIC LEADERS.
Confederates, to receive in writing what they had to say or
propound, and to transmit it to his Majesty.
This commission was dated the llth of January, 1642. Or
monde says, in one of his letters, that "the Loi'ds Justices
used every endeavor to prevent tbe success of the commission,
and to impede the pacification of the countiy." The supreme
council of " the Confederates" was sitting at Eoss, and a de
spatch was transmitted by tbe Lords Justices to them, in which
the phrase " odious rebellion'' was applied to their proceedings.
At this insult they took fire — they had arms in their hands,
and returned an answer, in wbich they stated that "it would
be a meanness bfeyond expression in them who fought in the
condition of loyal subjects, to come in the repute of rebels to
set down their grievances. We take God to witness," added
they, " that there are no limits set to the scorn and infamy that
are cast upon us, and we will be in the esteem of loyal sub
jects, or die to a man !" A terrible civil war ensued. On the
28th of July, 1646, Lord Digby published a proclamation of
peace with the Confederates. Tbe Pope's Nuncio, Eenuccini,
induced the former to reject the terms. The war raged on.
At length, in 1648, Ormonde concluded a treaty with them ;
but, soon after, Cromwell landed in Ireland, and crushed the
Catholics to the earth.
Thus an early precedent of a Catholic Association is to be
found at the distance of upward of a hundred and eighty-six
years. I pass over the events of the Eevolution. The penal
code was enacted. From the Eevolution to the reign of George
IL, the Catholics were so depressed and abject, that they did
not dare to petition, and their very silence was frequently the
subject of imputation, as affording evidence of a discontented
and dissatisfied spirit. Upon the accession of George IL, in
1727, Lord Delvin, and the principal of the Eoman Catholic
gentry, presented a servile address, to be laid by the Lords
Justices before the throne. They were in a condition so ut
terly despicable and degraded, that not even an answer was
returned. But Primate Boulter, who was a shrewd and saga
cious master of all the arts of colonial tyranny, in a letter to
Lord Carteret, intimates his apprehension at this first act since

THE CATHOLIC COMMITTEE. 361
the Eevolution, of the Catholics as a community ; and imme
diately after they were deprived of the elective franchise by
the 1st George IL, ch. 9, sec. 7. The next year came a bill
which was devised by Primate Boulter, to prevent Eoman
Catholics from acting as solicitors.
Here we find, perhaps, the origin of the Catholic rent. Sev
eral Catholics iu Cork and Dublin raised a subscription to de
fray the expense of opposing the bill, and an apostate priest
gave information of this conspiracy (for so it was called) to
bring in the Pope and the Pretender. The transaction was
referred to a committee of the House of Commons, who actu
ally reported that five pounds had been collected, and resolved
that " it appeared to them that, under pretence of opposing
heads of bills, sums of money had been collected, and a fund
established by the Popish inhabitants of this kingdom, highly
detrimental to the Protestant interest."
These were the first efforts of the Eoman Catholics to obtain
relief, or rather to prevent the imposition of additional burdens.
They did not, however, act through the medium of a commit
tee or association. It was in the year 1757, upon the appoint
ment of the Duke of Bedford to the viceroyalty of Ireland,
that a Committee was for the first time formed, of which the
great model, perhaps, was to be discovered in " the Confeder
ates" of 1642 ; aud ever since that period the affairs of the
body have been more or less conducted through the medium
of assemblies of a similar character. The Committee of 1757
may be justly accounted the parent of the great Convention
which has since brought its enormous seven millions into ac
tion. The members of the Committee formed in that year were
delegated and actually chosen by the people. They were a
Parliament invested with all the authority of representation.
Their first assembly was held in a tavern called " The Globe,"
in Essex street, Dublin. After some sittings, Mr. Wyse, of
Waterford, the ancestor of the gentleman who has lately made
so conspicuous a figure in Catholic politics, proposed a plan of
more extended delegation, which was at once adopted. In
1759, this body was brought into recognition by the state; for,
upon the alarm of the invasion of Conflans, the Eoman Catho-
VoL. L— 16

362 CATHOLIC LEADKES.
lie Committee prepared a loyal address, which was presented
to John Ponsonby, the then Speaker, by Messrs. Crump and
M'Dermot, two delegates, to be transmitted by him to the
Lord-Lieutenant. A gracious answer to this address was re
turned, and published in the " Gazette." The Speaker sum
moned the two delegates to the House of Commons, and the
address was then read. Mr. M'Dermot, in the name of his
body, thanked the Speaker for his condescension.
This was the first instance in which the political existence
of the Irish Catholics was acknowledged, through the medium
of their Committee. This recognition, however, was not fol
lowed by any immediate relaxation of the penal code. Twelve
years elapsed before any legislative measure was introduced
which indicated a more favorable disposition toward the Cath
olic community, if, indeed, the llth and L2th of George III,
can be considered as having conferred any boon upon that de
graded people. The statute was entitled, "An act for the
reclaiming of unprofitable bogs ;" and it enabled Papists to
take fifty acres of unprofitable bog for sixty-one years, with
half an acre of arable land adjoining, provided that it should
not be within one mile of a town. The provisions of this act
of Parliament indicate to what a low condition the great mass
of the population had been reduced, and illustrate the justice
of Swift's remark, that the Papists had become mere hewers
of wood and drawers of water. However, the first step was
taken in the progress of concession ; and every day the might
of numbers, even destitute of all territorial possession, pressed
more and more upon the Government.
The Catholic Committee pursued its course, and in 1777 ex
torted the first important relaxation; for they acquired the
right of taking leases for nine hundred and ninety-nine years,
aud their landed property was made descendible and devisa
ble, in the same manner as Protestant estates. In 1782, the
difficulties of the Government augmented, and the Catholic
Committee pressed the consideration of their claims upon the
Ministry. By the 21st and 22d of George IIL, Papists were
enabled to purchase and dispose of landed property, and were
placed, in that respect, upon an equality with Protestants.

THE CATHOLIC COMMITTEE. 363
Thus they were rashly left beyond the state, but were furnished
with that point from which the engine of their power has been
since wielded against it.
From 1782 until 1793, no further concessions were made ; but
the Catholics increased in power, until, in 1792, their Com
mittee assumed a formidable aspect. Theobald Wolfe Tone,
in his Memoirs, gives the following account of what may be
called the Association of that period : " The General Commit
tee of the Catholics, whicli, since the year 1792, has made a
distinguished figure in the politics of Ireland, was a body com
posed of their bishops, their country gentlemen, and of a cer
tain number of merchants and traders, all resident in Dublin,
but named by the Catholics in tbe different towns corporate to
represent them. The original object of this institution was to
obtain the repeal of a partial and oppressive tax called Quar
terage, which was levied on the Catholics only ; and the
Government, which found the Committee at first a convenient
instrument on some occasions, connived at their existence. So
degraded was the Catholic mind at the period of the forma
tion of their Committee, and long after, that they were happy
to be allowed to go up to the Castle with an abominable slavish
address to each successive Viceroy ; of which, moreover, until
the accession of the Duke of Portland in 1782, so little notice
was taken, that his Grace was the first who condescended to
give them an answer [N. B. this is a mistake] ; and, indeed,
for above twenty years, the sole business of the general Com
mittee was to prepare and deliver in those records of their
depression. The effort which an honest indignation had called
forth at the time of the Volunteer Convention of 1783, seemed
to have exhausted their strength, and they sunk back into
their primitive nullity. Under this appearance of apathy, how
ever a new spirit was gradually arising in the body, owing
principally to the exertions and the example of one man, John
Keogh, to whose services his countiy, and more especially the
Catholics, are singularly indebted. In fact, the downfall of
feudal tyranny was acted in little on the theatre of the General
Committee. The influence of their clergy and of their barons
was gradually undermined ; and the third estate, the com-

364 CATHOLIC LEADEES.
mercial interest, rising in wealth and power, was preparing, by
degrees, to throw off the yoke, in the imposing, or at least
continuing of which, the leaders of the body, I mean the pre
lates and the aristocracy, to their disgrace be it spoken, were
ready to concur. Already had those leaders, acting in obedi
ence to the orders of the Government, which held them in
fetters, suffered one or two signal defeats in the Committee,
owing principally to the talents and address of John Keogh:
the parties began to be defined, and a sturdy democracy of
new men, with bolder views and stronger talents, soon super
seded the timid counsels and slavish measures of the ancient
aristocracy." Until John Keogh appeared among them, and asserted that
superiority in public assemblies which genius and enterprise
will always obtain over the sluggish pride of inert and apathe
tic rank, the proceedings of the Committee had been, as Tone
here intimates, under the control of the Catholic aristocracy.
They were the sons of men who had lived in the period of
utter Catholic degradation; and many of them remembered
the time when the privileges of a gentleman were denied to a
Catholic nobleman, and a Popish peer was not allowed to wear
a sword ! They had contrived to retain their properties by
expedients which were calculated to debase their political
spirit; and it is not very wonderful that even when the period
had arrived when they might hold themselves erect, they did
not immediately divest themselves of that stoop, which the
long habit of bearing burthens had of necessity given.
Accordingly, they opposed the measures of a bold and adi
venturous character, which the plebeian members of the Com
mittee had suggested ; and at last adopted the preposterous
expedient of seceding from the body. Wolfe Tone, who was
secretary to the Committee, and whose evidence is of great
value, gives the following account of this incident: — "The
Catholics," he says, " were rapidly advancing in political spirit
and information. Every month, every day, as the Eevolution
in France went prosperously forward, added to their courage
and their force, and the hour seemed at last ai-rived when, after
a dreary oppression of above one hundred y^ars, they were

THE CATHOLIC AltlSTOCEACr. 365
once more to appear in the political theatre of their country.
They saw the brilliant prospect of success, which events in
France open to their view, and they determined to avail them
selves with promptitude of that opportunity which never
returns to those who omit it. For this, the active members of
the General Committee resolved to set on foot an immediate
application to Parliament, praying for a repeal of the penal
laws. " The first difficulty they had to surmount arose in their own
body ; their peers, their gentry, as they affected to call them
selves, and their prelates, either reduced or intimidated by
Government, gave the measure all possible opposition ; and, at
length, after a long contest, in which both parties strained
every nerve, and produced the whole of their strength, the
question was decided on a division in the Committee, by a
majority of at least six to one, in favor of the intended appli
cation. The triumph of the young democracy was complete ;
bnt, though the aristocracy was defeated, they were not yet
entirely broken down. By the instigation of Government,
they had the meanness to secede from the General Committee,
to disown their acts, and even to publish in the papers, that
they did not wish to embarrass the Government, by advancing
their claims of emancipation.
" It is difficult to conceive such a degree of political degrada
tion. But what will not the tyranny of an execrable system
produce in time 1 Sixty-eight gentlemen, individually of high
spirit, were found, who publicly, and in a body, deserted their
party, and their own just claims, and even sanctioned this
pitiful desertion hy the authority of their signatures. Such an
effect had the operation of the penal laws on the Catholics of
Ireland, as proud a race as any in all Europe 1"
The secession of the aristocracy did not materially enfeeble
the people. New exertions were made by the democracy. A
plan of more general and faithful representation was devised
by-Mr. M'Keon, which converted the Committee into a com
plete Catholic parliament. Members were elected for every
county in Ireland, and regularly came to Dublin to attend the
meetings of this extraordinary convention. At the head of

CATHOLIC LEADEES.
this assembly was the individual of whom Wolfe Tone makes
such honorable mention, John Keogh.
He was, in the years 1792 and 1793, the unrivalled leader
of the Catholic body. He belonged to the middle class of life,
and kept a silk-mercer's shop in Pasrliament street, where he
had accumulated considerable wealth. His education had
corresponded with his original rank, and he was without the
graces and refinements of literature; but be had a vigorous
and energetic mind, a great command of pure diction, a striking
and simple earnestness of manner, great powers of elucidation,
singular dexterity, and an ardent, intrepid, and untameable
energy of character. His figure was rather upon a small scale;
but he had great force of countenance, an eye of peculiar bril
liancy, and an expression in which vehement feelings and the
deliberative faculties were combined. He was without a com
petitor in the arts of debate ; occasionally more eloquent
speeches were delivered in the Catholic convention, but John
Keogh was sure to carry the measure which he had proposed,
however encountered with apparently superior powers of decla
mation. Wolfe Tone has greatly praised him in several passages of
his work ; but there are occasional remarks in the diary which
was kept by that singular person, when secretary to the Catho
lic Committee, in which statements unfavorable to John Keogh
are expressed. This diary was never intended for publication,
and is written in a very easy and familiar style. He calls
John Keogh by the name of " Gog," and represents him as
exceedingly subtle, dexterous, and cunning, and anxious to
such an extent to co everything himself, as to oppose good
measures when they were suggested by others. He might
have had this fault, but as Wolfe Tone wrote down the
ephemeral impressions which were made upon him by occa
sional incidents in his journal, it is more reasonable to look at
the general result of the observations on this able maft, which
are to be found in his autobiography, than to the remarks
which were committed every day to his tablets. As secretary
to the Catholics, he was himself liable to be sometimes thwarted
by Mr. Keogh ; and it is likely that, under the influence of

JOHN KEOGH. 367
some small annoyances, he has set down iu his journal some
strictures upon his friend.
Afterward, however, when Wolfe Tone was in France, he
reverts, in tbe diary subsequently kept by him, to John Keogh,
and, when far away, voluntarily writes a high encomium upon
the leader pf the Irish Catholics. It is to be collected from
his work, that John Keogh had a deep hostility to England,
and that he was disposed to favor tbe enterprise of Wolfe
Tone. However, he did not, iu Ireland, escape the usual
charges of corruption. In the year 1793, he negotiated with
the Minister the terms upon which the partial emancipation,
which was then granted to the Catholics, was to be conceded.
Whenever a leader of the people is brought into contact
with authority, he will incur injurious surmises, should the
result not correspond with popular expectation. It was said,
that had John Keogh insisted upon complete emancipation,
everything would, in that moment of emergency, have been
obtained. It was insinuated, and for a long time believed,
that he received a large sum of money as a remuneration for
his complaisance; but there is no sort of proof that be sold his
country, and his opulence should, by generous men, who are
slow to believe in the degradation of human nature, be rather
referred to his honorable industry in his trade, than to any
barter of the liberties of Ireland. It is difficult to determine
whether, if the Catholics had been peremptory in their requi-*
sition for equality, they could have forced the Minister to
yield. I am inclined to think that they would have encoun
tered obstacles in the mind of the late King,* which could not
" The Legislative Union of Ireland was the favorite measure of William Pitt.
To the Irish Catholics, he held out hopes, nearly as strong as promises, that the
abolition of their political disabilities would follow. George III., who was cog
nizant, all through, of the understanding with the Catholics, was decidedly
averse to concession, when the measure was named to him, whereupon Pitt
quitted office in disgust. Three years after, he returned to power, and died in
January, 1806. " All The Talents," comprising Lord Grenville's Ministry,- in
1807, vainly essayed to change the King's Anti-Catholic views (he thought that
concession to the Catholics would be a breach of his coronation oath to defend
the Protestant Church) and very soon after they were cavalierly dismissed, and
the Perceval Ministry fonned. — M.

368 CATHOLIC LEADERS.
have been overcome; aud it must be acknowledged, tbat for
what was obtained (and that was much), his country is princir
pally indebted to Mr. Keogh, and to the Committee of which
he was the head.
In 1793 the elective franchise was obtained. The seed was
then cast, of which we have seen the fruits in the elections of
Waterford, and Louth, and Clare. Great joy prevailed through
the Catholic body, who felt that they had now gained, for the
first time, a footing in the state, and were armed with the
power, if not of bursting open, of at least knocking loudly
at the gates of the constitution. For some time the question
lay at rest. The rebellion then broke out — the Union suc
ceeded — and the Catholic cause was forgotten. It was not
even debated in the British House of Commons until the year
1805, when the measure was lost by an immense majority.
John Keogh, being advanced in life, had retired, in a gi'eat
degree, from public proceedings, and confined , himself to his
residence at Mount Jerom, in the vicinity of Dublin. He had
been previously defeated in a public assembly by a young bar
rister, who had begun to make a figure at the bar, to which he
was called in the year 1798, and who, the moment he took a
part in politics, ma<le a commanding impression. This barris
ter was Daniel O'Connell, who, in overthrowing the previous
leader of the body upon a question connected with the pro
priety of persevering to petition the legislature, gave proof of
the extraordinary abilities which have been since so success
fully developed. Mr. Keogh was mortified, but his infirmities,
without reference to any pain which he might have suffered,
were a 'sufficient inducement to retire from the stage where he
had long performed the principal character with such just
applause. Mr. O'Connell was, however, too deeply engaged
in his professional pursuits to dedicate as much of his atten
tion and of his time as he has since bestowed to political con
cerns ; and, indeed, the writer of this article remembers the
time when his power of public speaking, and of influencing
popular assemblies, was by no means so great as it has sipce
become. The fortune with which he came to the bar (for his
father and uncle were then alive) was not considerable, and it

O'Connell's anti-union effoets.
was of more importance to him to accumulate legal knowledge
and pecuniary resources than to obtain a very shining political
name.* So much has been already written with respect to
this eminent individual, arid the public are so well acquainted
with the character of his mind and talents, that it is not
necessary to expatiate upon them.
Another person appeared after the secession of John Keogh,
of very great abilities, with whose name the English public
have been less familiar. Mr. Denis Scully, the eldest son of a
gentleman of large property in the County of Tipperary, and
who had been called to the bar, obtained, by his admirable
writings, an influence almost equal to that of Mr. O'Connell in
the Catholic Committee, which was revived in all its vigor,
and became the object of Mr. Saurin's prosecutions in 1811.
Mr. Scully had, upon his entrance into public life, written some
pamphlets in support of Government, and it was believed that
his marriage to a lady who was related to Lady Hardwicke
had given a determination to his opinions. When Lord Hard-
* O'Connell did not join the United Irishmen in 1798, when he was aged
twenty-three. He disapproved of their " argument of force,'' relying rather on
the " force of argument." It is said that he even became member of a yeo
manry corps. . Two principles he started with, and retained to the end : — that
he who committed an outrage supplied the enemy with a weapon to be used
'against the country, and that Ireland could not be prosperous until the Legisla
tive Union with England was repealed. The " Young Ireland" schism, which
so much annoyed him at the close of his career, was caused by his continued
resistance to the doctrine of " physical force" held by Meagher, Mitchel, and
others of the young and gallant patriots. . As for the Union, O'Connell's first
public effi>rt was against it. His maiden speech, on Januaiy 13, 1800, was at
'a Catholic meeting in Ireland, and in unequivocal condemnation of that meas
ure. The resolutions of this meeting drawn up by O'Connell, declared the
Union, then proposed, to be " in fact, an extinction of the liberty of Ireland,
which would be reduced to the abject condition of a province, suiTendered to
the mercy of the Minister and Legislature of another country, to be bound by
their absolute wiU, and taxed at their pleasure by laws, in the making of which
Ireland would have no efficient representation whatever." All through the
struggle for Catholic Emancipation, and to the last, O'Connell was constant in
declaring. that "the Eepeal" must be the end of all. In other words, from
1800 to 1847, O'Connell declared that there must be a Repeal of the Union, to
make Ireland " Great, glorious, and free —
.First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea." — M.
16*

370

CATHOLIC LEADEES.

wicke was in Ireland, Mr. Scully was a gbod deal sought for
at the Castle.*
His first writings, however, were merely juvenile effusions,
and be afterward felt that the only means of obtaining justice
for Ireland was by awakening a' deep sense of their injuries
among the great mass of the people. Accordingly the char
acter of his compositions was materially changed; and from
his study in Merrion-square there issued a succession of pow
erful and inflammatory writings. A newspaper, of which Mr.
JEneas Mac Donnel was named the editor, was established' by
Mr. O'Connell and Mr. Scully ; and both those gentlemen, but
especially tbe latter, contributed their money and their talents
to its support. The wrongs of the country were presented in
the most striking view; and while the Government looked
with alarm on these eloquent and virulent expositions of the
condition of the people, the people were excited to a point of
discontent, to which tbey had never before been raised.
Mr. Scully gained great influence over the public mind by
these services. His work upon the penal code, which is an
admirable digest of the laws and of their results, set a crown
upon his reputation. No book so able, so convincing, and
uniting so much philosophy with so much eloquence, had yet
appeared. It brought the whole extent of Catholic suffering
at once under view, and condensed and concentrated the evils
of the country. This work created an unprecedented impres
sion, and gave to its author an ascendency in the councils of
the Catholic Committee. He was greatly inferior to Mr.
O'Connell as a speaker, but was considered fully as able in
preliminary deliberation. The measures of the body were
generally believed to be of his suggestion, and it was said that
he had gained a paramount influence over Mr. O'Connell him
self. "The witchery resolutions,'' as they are generally des
ignated — for they related to the influence of an enchantress
of fifty over the Kingt — were supposed to be bis composi-
* The third Earl of Hardwicke, bom in 1757, was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland
from 1801 to 1806, and died in 1834.— M.
1 It wiis fondly anticipated by the Catholics that, whenever the Prince of
Wales should have any actual power, he would do what he could to obtain

THE FATAL WITCHERY. 371
tion, and it was alleged tluat lie omitted no efforts, in conjunc
tion with the late Lord Donoughmore,* to cause them to be
Emancipation. Li 1810, when Georg;e III. was again aiBicted with insanity
(frpna which he never recovered), his eldest son was made Prince Regent, to
govern in his father's name, but, after jthe first twelve months, with all but the
name of King. He retained the illiberal ministry, headed by Mr. Perceval, and
at the yeai-'s end, declared that he would retain that Minister, though he should
be glad if some of his early friends would join the government. Loi'd Grey
and Grenville, whom he named, declined. Immediately after, when the Assas
sination of Perceval rendered a new ministry necessary, Grey and Grenville were
again applied to, but insisted on being allowed, at starting, to change the en
tire household of the Regent. Sheridan, who supported the Regent and was
much in his confidence then, had previously written in their name, as an "Ad
dress to the Prince," the following imitation of Rochester's lines to Charles II. :
" In all humility we crave,
Our Regent may Ijecome our slave ;
And, being so, we trust that he
Will thank us. for our loyalty.
Then, if he'U help us to pull down
His father's dignity and crown.
We'll make him, in some time to come,
The greatest prince in Christendom."
Lord Liverpool, a. strong anti-Catholic, was made Premier. The Iri-sh lead-
.ers then passed several resolutions, one of which denounced ** the fatal witch
ery" which had led the Regent to form a ministry hostile to Irish liberty of con
science. This alluded to the then Marchioness of Hertford, a stout, middle-
aged womsm (the Regent's first wife was "fat, fair, and forty"), and was a
strong Tory. It was believed that she was the Regent's mistress, while his
most constant male friends were her husband and son — the latter being then
nearly forty years of age!' These "witchery" resolutions so much annoyed.
the Regent that, seventeen years elapsed before, under strong pressure, ie
could be brought to consent to Catholic Emancipation. — M.
* Richard Hely Hutchinson, born 1756, was son of that Mr. Hutchinson
(provost of Trinity College, Dublin, in 1761, and Irish Secretary of 3tate in
1777), whose thirst of acquisition was so great that the British Minister de
scribed him as one who, if he obtained Ireland as an estate, would ask for the
adjacent Isle .of Man, as a kitchen garden. The son was created Baron,
Viscount, and Earl, and was made a British Viscount in 1821. Dying iu 1825,
he was succeeded by his brother, wh& had succeeded Abercrombie in military
command in Egypt, and had been created Lord Hutchinson, in 1801, with a
pension of two thousand pounds sterling. On his death, in 1839, his nephew
becarae Earl of Donoughmore, but had won a loftier fame, in 1815, by assisting
in the escape of Lavalette ftom the prison in Paris, where certain death awaited
him from the vengeance of the Bourbons. During tho present century, all the
Hutchinson family have been friends of civil and religious liberty.— M.

372 CATHOLIC LEADEBS.
carried. The resolutions passed at the "Black AbTsey" at
Kilkenny were also framed by Mr. Scully, who narrowly
escaped incarceration for his elucubratioiis.
Mr. John Magee, the proprietor of the Evening Post, and
Mr. Fitzpatrick, were imprisoned for his sins ; but I have
always understood that Mr. Scully made them a compensation
for their sufferings on his account; He became an object of
great detestation with the Protestant party, and of correspond
ing partiality with his own. But, in -the height of his political
influence, the death of his father, and a domestic lawsuit,
which engrossed all his mind, induced him to retire in a great
measure from public life ; and afterward the decay of health
prevented him from taldng any part in the proceedings of his
body. The Catholics have sustained a great loss in him. His
large property, his indefatigable industry, his profound sense
of the injustice which his country had suffered, and the elo
quent simplicity with which he gave it expression, rendered
him adequate to the part which had devolved upon him. His
chief fault lay in the intemperate character of the measures
which he recommended. His manner and aspect were in sin
gular contrast and opposition to his political tendencies. In
utterance he was remarkably slow and deliberate, and wanted
energy and fire. His cadences were singularly monotonous,
every sentence ending with a sort of see-saw of the voice,
wliich was by no means natural or agreeable. His gesture
was plain and unaffected, and it was easier to discover his
emotions hy the trembling of his fingers than by his counte
nance ; for his hand would, under the influence of strong feel
ing or passion, shake and quiver like an aspen-leaf, while his
countenance looked like marble. It was impossible to detect
his sensations in his features. A deep smile played over his
mouth, whether he was indulging in mirthful, in pleasurable,
or sarcastic observation. He had some resemblance to Bona
parte in figure, when the latter grew round and corpulent, but
was more unwieldy. I have often thought, too, that in his
massive and meditative features I could trace an imperial
likeness.

LORDS FEEN'Cn AND FINGAL. 373
It was ahout sixteen or seventeen years ago that this gen
tleman made so distinguished a figure in the Catholic Com
mittee. There were many others who at that time took an
active share in Catholic politics, and who are since either
dead, or have retreated from publicity. The late Lord French
was among the most remarkable. He was a very tall, brawny,
pallid, and ghastly-looking man, with a peculiarly revolution
ary aspect, and realised the ideal notions which one forms of
the men who are most likelj' to become formidable and con
spicuous in the midst of a political convulsion. He had a
long and oval visage, of which the eyebrows were thick and
fihaggy, and whose aquiline nose stood out in peculiar prom
inence, while a fierce smile sat upon cheeks as white as parch
ment, and his eyes glared with the spirit that sat within them.
His manners were characterized by a sort of drawling urbanity,
which is observable among the ancient Catholic gentry of
Connaught; and he was studiously and sometimes painfully
polite. He was not a scholar, and must have received an
imperfect education. But his mind was originally a powerful
one, and his deep voice, which rolled out in a peculiarly mel
ancholy modification of the Irish brogue, had a dismal and
appalling sound. He spoke with fluency a diction which be
longed exclusively to him. It was pregnant with vigorous but
strange expression, which was illustrated by gesture as bold,
hut as wild. He was an ostentatious duellist, and had fre
quent recourse to gladiatorial intimations, Pride was his
leading trait of character, and he fell a victim to it. He had
connected himself with a bank in Dublin, and having become
bankrupt, rather than brook the examination of the commis
sioners at the Exchange, he put himself, in a paroxysm of
insanity, to-death. I thought him, with all his defects, a lover
of his country.
It would be difficult to imagine two persons more strongly
opposite in character and in manner than Lord French and
the Premier Catholic nobleman the Earl of Fingal. He has
since left to his able and intelligent son the office which he so
long and so usefully filled, as head of the Catholic body ; hut,
ahout the period of which I am speaking, he was the chief, in

374: CATHOLIC LEADiCES.
point of rank, of the Irish Catholics, and presided at their
meetings. Lord Fiugal is one of the most amiable and kind
men whom it has been my good fortune to Iiave been ever ac
quainted with. Without the least shadow of arrogance, and
altliough incapable of hurting the feelings of any man, he still
preserves his patrician dignity unimpaired, and commands the
respect as well as tlie impartiality of every one who approaches
him. Although not equal to his son in intellectual power, he
has excellent sense and admirable discretion. He has made
few or no mistakes in public life, and very often, by his cool
ness and discretion, has prevented the adoption of rash and
injudicious measures. His manners are disarming ; and I hava
understood, upon good authority; that when iu London, where
he used almost annually to go, as head of the Catholic body,
he has mitigated, by the charm of his converse, the hostility
of some of his most rancorous political opponents. As a speaker,
he is without much ability ; but there is a gentleness and a
grace about him which supply the place of eloquence, and ren
der his audience so favorable to him, that lie has often suc
ceeded in persuading, where others of greater faculty might
have employed the resources of oratory in vain.
An individual, who is now dead, about this time made a
great sensation, not only in the Catholic Association, but
through the empire. Tbis was the once-famous Doctor Drum
goole, whom Lord Kenyon seems determined not to allow to
remain in peace. He was the grand anti-vetoist, and was, I
believe, a most sincere and unaffected sentinel of religion. He
kept watch over the Catholic hierarchy, and look the whole
body of the clergy under his vigilant protection. It was, how
ever, a speech which he delivered at the Shakspere Gallery,
in Exchequer street [Dublin], at a Catholic meeting, tbat tended
chiefly to give him notoriety. He assailed the tenets of the
established religion with a good deal of that sort of candor
which Protestants at that period regarded as the height of pre-,
sumption, but which is now surpassed every day by the ha
rangues of the orators of the Catholic Association. The Doc
tor's speech may be considered as a kind of epoch in Catholic
politics ; for he was the first who ventured to employ against

DOCTOE DEUMGOOLB. 375
the opponents of Emancipation the weapons which are habitu
ally used against the professors of the Eoman Catholic religion.
Men who swear that the creed of the great majority of Chris
tians is idolatrous and superstitious, should not be very sensi
tive when their controversial virulence is turned upon them.
The moment Doctor Drumgoole's philippic on the Reforma
tion appeared, a great outcry took place, and Eoman Catholics
were not wanting to modify and explain away the Doctor's
scholastic vituperation. He himself, however, was fixed and
stubborn as the rock on which he believed that his doctrines
were built. No kind of apology could be extorted from liim.
He was, indeed, a man of a peculiarly stubborn and inflexible
cast of mind. It must, however, he admitted that, for every
position which he advanced, he was able to adduce very strong
and cogent reasoning. He was a physician by profession, but
in practice and in predilection he was a theologian of the most
uncompromising sort. He had a small fortune, which rendered
him independent of patients, and he addicted himself, strenu
ously and exclusively, to the study of the scholastic arts. He
was beyond doubt a very well-informed and a clever man. He
had a great command of speech, and yet was not a pleasing
speaker. He was slow, monotonous, and invariable. His
countenance was full of medical and theological solemnity,
and he was wont to carry a huge stick with a golden head, on
which he used to press both his hands in speaking ; and in
deed, from the manner in which ^he swayed his body, and
knocked his stick at the end of every period to the ground,
which he accompanied with a strange and guttural "hem!"
he seemed to me a kind of rhetorical pavior, who was busily
engaged in making the great road of Liberty, and paving the
way to Emancipation.
The Doctor was in private life a very good and gentle-ua-
tured man. You could not stir the placidity of his temper un
less you touched upon the Veto ; and upon that point he was
scarcely master of himself. I remember well, years after all
discussion upon the subject had subsided, when I was in Paris,
on a visit at the house of a friend of the Doctor's and my own,
he suddenly walked in, just after his arrival from Eome. I

376 CATHOLIC LEADEES.
had not seen him for a considerable time, but I had scarcely
asked him how he was, when he reverted to the Veto. A de
bate (it was in the year 1819) was immediately 'opened on the
subject. Some Irish gentlemen dropped casually in ; they all
took their share in the argument. The eloquence of the dif
ferent disputants became inflamed : the windows toward the
fitreet had been left unhappily open ; a crowd of Frenchmen
collected outside, and the other inhabitants of the house gath
ered at the doors to hear the discussion. It was only after the
Doctor, who was still under the influence of Vetophobia, had
taken his leave, that I perceived the absurdity of the incident.
A volume of " Gil Bias" was on the table where we happened
to have been assembled, and by accident I lighted on the pas
sage in which he describes the Irish disputants at Salamanca :
" Je rencontrois quelque fois des figures Hibernoises, -11 falloit
nous voir dispuler," &c. We are a strange people, and deserve
our designation at the foreign universities, where it was prover
bially said of the Irish that they were " ratione furent^s,"
There were others besides the persons whom I have de
scribed, who at this juncture took a part in the Catholic poli
tics, and who are deserving of mention ; but as they have
recently made a figure even more conspicuous than at the
Catholic Committee, I reserve them for subsequent delineation.
The only other person whom I remember as worthy of much
note, and who has retired from Catholic assemblies, was Peter
Bodkin Hussey. Peter was a very droll, sarcastic, and amu
sing debater. He dealt almost exclusively in irony, and em
ployed a good deal of grotesque imagery in his action, which,
if it did not instruct, served at least the purposes of entertaiii-
ment. He had a very rubicund and caustic countenance, that
was surmounted with a profusion of red hair ; and, from his
manner and aspect, he was not unhappily designated as "Eed
Precipitate." I don't know from what motive he has retired
from political life ; but, though he is still young, he has not
recently appeared at any Eoman Catholic assembly.
These were the individuals who, besides the performers who
still continue on the boards, chiefly figured at the .Catholic
Committee, which, in the year 1811, was made the object of -a

BEOKEN HOPES. 377
prosecution by Mr. Saurin. Mr. Kirwan and Doctor Sheridan
were indicted upon the Irish Convention Act, for having been
elected to sit in the Catholic Parliament. The Government
strained every nerve to procure a conviction. Mr. Saurin com
menced his speech in the following words : " My Lords and
gentlemen of the jury, I can not but congratulate you and the
public that the day of justice has at length arrived ;" and the
then Solicitor-General, the present Chief-Justice Bushe, in
speaking of the Committee, constituted as it was, coucluded his
oration thus : " Compare such a constitution with the estab
lished authorities of the land, all controlled, confined to their
respective spheres, balancing and gravitating to each other —
all symmetry, all ordei', all harmony. Behold, on the other
hand, this prodigy in the political hemisphere, with eccentric
course and portentous glare, bound by no attraction, disdain
ing any orbit, disturbing the system, and affrigliting the world."
Upon the first trial, the Catholic Committee were acquitted ;
hut upon the second, the Attorney-General [Saurin] mended
his hand, and the jury having been packed, the comet was
put out.
The Catholic Committee, as a representative body elected
hy the people, and consisting of a certain number of members
delegated from each town aud county, ceased to exist. A
grfeat blow had been struck at the cause, and a considerable
time elapsed before Ireland recovered" from it. The Eussian
war ensued, and Bonaparte fell. The hopes of the Catholics
fell with the peace. A long interval elapsed, in which nothing
very important or deserving of record took place. A political
lethargy spread itself over the great body of the people, and
the assemblies of the Catholics became more unfrequent, and
their language more despondent and hopeless than it had ever
before been. The unfortunate differences which had taken
place between the aristogracy and the great body •of the people
respecting the Veto, had left many traces of discord behind,
and divided them from each other ; they no- longer exhibited
any very formidable object to their antagonists.
Thus matters stood till the year 1821, when the King inti
mated his intention to visit Ireland. The nation awoke at

378 CATHOLIC LKADJCE3.
this intelligence ; and it was believed by the Catholics, and
surmised by the Protestants, that their sovereign could Scarcely
mean to visit this portion of his dominions from any idle
curiosity, or from an anxiety to play the principal part in a
melodramatic procession through the Irish metropolis. It was
reasonably concluded that he must have intended to come as
the herald of national tranquillity, and as the great pacificator
of his people. Before his arrival, the two parties formed a
temporary amnesty ; and Mr. O'Connell, who had gained the
first eminence in his profession, and had become the undisputed
leader of the Catliolic body, used his best endeavors to effect
a reconciliation between the Orangemen of the Corporation
and the Irish Catholics.
Sir Benjamin Bloomfield* arrived in Dublin before his mas
ter, and intimated the Eoyal anxieties that all differences and
animosities should be laid aside. Accordingly, it was agreed
that a public dinner should be held at Morrison's tavern,
where the leaders of both factions should pledge each other in
libations of everlasting amity. This national festivity took
place ; and from the vehement protestations on both sides, it
was believed by many, that a lasting reconciliation had been
effected. Master Ellis and Mr. O'Connell almost embraced
each other. Tbe King arrived ; the Catholics determined not
to intrude their grievances upon him. Accordingly our gra
cious Sovereign passed rather an agreeable time in Dublin.
He was hailed with tumultuous hurrast wherever he passed ;
* Sir Benjamin Bloomfield born in 1762, was an Irish artillery officer when
he attracted the notice of the Prince of Wales, who made him a member of his
household in 1808, knighted him in 1815, and in 1817, on the resignation of
Sir John MacMahon, appointed him Receiver-General of the Duchy of Coi-nwall,
private Secretary, and Keeper of the privy purse. All these were lucrative
offices, and Bloomfield " feathered his nest" very well. In 1824, his Royal
Master, then George IV. quarrdled with him about a lady (the late fat and fair
Marchioness of Conyngham), and Sir Benjamin was sent, in a sort of honorable
exile, as Ambassador to Sweden. In May, 1825, he was created Lord Bloom
field, and he died in August, 1846. The secret histoiy of this court favorite's
rise and fall is full of interest, hut too long to be related here.^ — M.
t No doubt, a great deal may be done, in the way of concession, to obtain
"peace and quietness." This is said to be the principle on which so much

OEIGm OF THE CATHOLIC ASSOCIATION. 379
and in return for the enthusiastic reception which he had found,
he directed Lord Sidmouth to write a letter, recommending it
to the people to be united. His Majesty shortly afterward
set sail, with tears in his eyes, from Kingstown. For a little
while' the Catholics continued under the miserable deception
under which they had labored during the Eoyal sojourn, but
when they found that no intention existed to introduce a
change of system into Ireland — that the King's visit seemed
an artifice, and Lord Sidmouth's epistle meant nothing — and
that while men were changed, measures continued substantially
unaltered, they began to perceive that some course more effect
ual than a loyal solicitude not to disturb the repose of Majesty,
should be adopted.
The present Catholic Association rose out of the disappoint
ment of the people. Its foundations were laid by Mr. O'Con
nell, in conjunction with Mr. Sheil. They both happened to
meet at the house of a common friend in the mountains of
Wicklow, and after exchanging their opinions on the deplor
able state to which the Catholic mind had been reduced, and
the utter want of system and organization in the body, it was
agreed by those gentlemen that they should both sign an
address to the Irish Catholics, and enclose it to the principal
members of the body. This proceeding was considered pre
sumptuous by many of the individuals to whom their manifesto
was directed ; and under other circumstances, perhaps, it might
he regarded as an instance of extreme self-reliance ; but it
was absolutely necessary that some endeavor should be made
to rouse the national mind from the torpor into which.it had
fallen. A very thin meeting, which did not consist of more than
power is permitted to the fair sex. — O'Connell yielded a great deal when
George the Fourth came to Ireland, in 1821, whereof Byron wrote,
" The Messiah of royalty comes.
Like a goodly Le\-iathan rolled firom the waves."
O'Connell presented an immense shamrock to George IV., and even drank
"The pious, glorious, and immortal memory of William III.," with Dublin
Corporation — the oifensive part of the toastwas no doubt omitted. But as soon
asthe King left the island, the old political feuds revived — the stronger for
the interregnum. — M.

380 , CATHOLIC LEADEES.
about twenty individuals, was held at a tavern set up by a
man of the name of Dempsey, in Sackville street ; and it was
there determined that something should be done. The founda
tions of the Association were then laid, and it must be owned
that its first meetings afforded few indications of the import
ance and the magnitude to which it was destined to be raised.
The attendance was so thin, and the public appeared so insen
sible to the proceedings which took place in those small con
vocations, that it is almost surprising that the enterprise was
not relinquished in despair. The Association in its origin was
treated with contempt, not only by its open adversaries, but
Catholics theraselves spoke of it with derision, and spurned at
the walls of mud, which their brethren had rapidly thrown up,
and which were afterward to become altce mcetiia Romce, At
length, however, the men who had formerly been active in
Catholic affairs were got together, and the great body of the
people were awakened from their insensibility. The powerful
appeals of Daniel O'Connell, who now began to develop even
greater abilities than he had before exhibited, and whose
ambition was excited by the progress which he had made in
his profession, stirred the mind of Ireland.
The aristocracy, who had been previously alienated, had
forgotten many affronts which had been put upon them, and
began to reunite themselves with the people. Lord Killeen,
the son of the Earl of Fingal, came forward as the representa
tive of his father and of the Catholic nobility. He was free
from the habits of submission which the Catholic aristocracy
had contracted at the period of their extreme depression, and
was animated by an ardent consciousness of the rights which
were withheld from him. This young nobleman threw him
self into a zealous co-operation with Mr. O'Connell, and by his
abilities aided the impression which bis rank and station were
calculated to produce. His example was followed by other
noblemen ; and Lord Gormanstown, a Catholic peer of great
fortune, and of very ancient descent, although hitherto unused
to public life, appeared at the Catholic Association. This
good man had labored for many years under the impression
that the Catholics were frustrating their own objects by the

DOCTOK DOYLE. 381
violence with which they were pursued, and had, in conse
quence, absented himself from their assemblies ; but at length
the delusion passed away. His example wa's followed by the
Earl of Kenmare, who, though he did not actually attend the
Association (for he abhors popular exhibition), sent in the
authority of his name, and his pecuniary contribution.
Thus the aristocracy was consolidated with the Catholic
democracy, and Mr. O'Connell began to wield them both with
the power of which new manifestations were every day given.
In a little time a general movement was produced through the
coimtry; the national attention was fixed upon the delibera
tions of the hody which had thus started up from the ruins of.
the old Catholic Committee ; its meetings became crowded to
excess. The newspapers teemed with vehement harangues ;
and the public mind, heated and excited by these impassioned
and constantly-repeated appeals,* began to exhibit an entirely
different character.
The junction of the aristocracy and of the democracy was
a most important achievement. But this confederacy was
greatly strengthened by the alliance of another and still more
powerful body, the Catholic priesthood of Ireland. The sym
pathy which the clergy have manifested in the efforts of the
Association, and the political part which they have lately
played, are to be referred, in a great measure, to the influence
of a very greatly gifted man. Doctor Doyle, the Catholic
Bishop of Kildare and Leighlin, is certainly among the most
remarkable men who have appeared in this strange state of
things, and has most essentially contributed to the moral and
* O'ConneU's voice was deep, sonorous, and manageable. Its transitions
from the higher to the lower notes were wondrously effective. He rather af
fected a full Ii-ish pronunciation, on which was slightly grafted something of
the accent which, in his youth, he had involuntarily picked up in France. No
man had a clearer pronunciation — at times, it even went to the extent of almost
syllabicizing long words. He could speak for a longer time than most men,
without pausing to take breath. When making a speech, his mouth was very
expressive. In his eyes (of a cold, clear blue), there was little speculation,
but the true Irish expression of feeling, passion, and intellect, played about his
Ups. Looking at him, as he spoke, an observer might note the sentiment about
to issue from those lips, before the words had utterance — just as we see the
Ughtning-flash before we hear the thunder-peal. — M.

382 CATHOLIC LEADERS.
political feeling which has grown up among the people.* He
was educated at a university in Portugal, where it was not
very likely that he would contract any very ardent attachment
to freedom, but his original love of his country overcame the
theology of Coimbra, and he returned to Ireland with a mind
deeply imbued with learning, fraught with eloquence, and-
buruing with patriotism.
He was for some time a professor in the Ecclesiastical';
College at Carlow, and, before he was made a bishop, was
unknown as a politician. But the crosier had been scarcely
t The Reverend James Doyle, D. D., was an Irishman, who, being intended
for the Catholic priesthood, received his education at Coimbra, in Portugal,
whence he removed on being appointed Professor of Theology to the College
of Carlow. In 1819, and before he was forty years old, he was made Catholic
Bishop of Kildare and Leighlin — being the youngest man ever raised to the
prelacy in Ireland. His erudition was great and his controversial skill soon
became eminent. In 1823, Dr. Magee, Protestant Archbishop of Dublin, pub
lished a charge to his clergy, in which he w^amed them of the assaults on Prot
estantism from Catholics and Dissenters — or, as he chose to express it, irom
" a church without religion, and a religion without a church." This antithesis
provoked Dr. Doyle, who replied to Dr. Magee in a cutting and leamed^work, -
showing that the Protestant Church was itself a usurpation, that its Bishops
were usurpers, and that the Apostolical Succession could not properly be traced
by or for them through the Catholic Church. Dr. Doyle signed this "J. K. L."
the initials of his prelatic signature, "James Kildare and Leighlin," and
his future publications, which were numerous, bore the same distinguishing
letters. — He was much in favor of Poor Laws for Ireland, and succeeded in con
verting Mr. O'Connell to his opinion. When that gentleinau returned to- his
original opposition to Poor Laws, Dr. Doyle publicly declared that a man so
unstable in opinion was unsuited for a great popular leader. It was in noticing
this that O'Connell declared that " Consistency was a rascally doctrine." Dr.
Doyle was a firm believer in the miracles said to have been wrought by or
through the instrumentality of Prince Hohenloe. — Dr. Doyle's evidence, before
a Committee of the House of Lords, in 1825, on the state of Ireland, atti-acted
great attention then, and for years after, and tended much to extend his repu
tation as a close observer and philosophical reasoner. He died, June 15, 1834,
at Braganza House, near Carlow, a mansion which had been purchased as a
residence for the Catholic Bishops of the diocese. He had furnished this at
his own expense, and bequeatlied the contents of this house, including his
libraiy, to his successor. He had succeeded in building, in Carlow, one of the
finest Cathedrals in Ireland, obtaining the necessary funds by much self-priva
tions, and by unwearied solicitations of the wealthy, and his mortal remains were
interred within the waUs of this beautiful and hallowed fane.— M.

DOCTOES OF SOKBONNK. 383
placed in his hands when he raised it in the cause of his coun
try. He wrote, aud his writings were so strikingly eloquent
in diction and powerful in reasoning, that they at once invited
the attention of the public. He fearlessly broached doctrines
which not only startled the Government, but gave alarm to
some of the hoary professors at Maynooth. In the following
passage in his letter to Mr. Eobertson, after speaking of the
likelihood of a rebellion and a French invasion, he says :
" The Minister of England can not look to the exertions of
the Catholic priesthood : they have been ill-treated, and they
may yield for a moment to the influence of nature, though it
he opposed to grace. This clergy, with a few exceptions, are
from the ranks of the people ; they inherit their feelings ; they
are not, as formerly, brought up under despotic governments ;
and they have imbibed the doctrines of Locke and Paley,
more deeply than those of Bellarmin, or even of Bossuet, on
the divine rjght of kings. They know much more of the prin
ciples of the constitution than they do of passive obedience.
If a rebellion were raging from Carrickfergus to Cape Clear,
no sentence of excommunication would ever be fulminated by
a Catholic prelate."
This announcement of what is now obviously the truth cre
ated a sort of consternation. Lord Wellesley, it is said, in
order to neutralize the effects of this fierce episcopal warning,
appealed to Maynooth ; and from Maynooth there issued a
document in which it is well understood that the students and
even the President, Dr. Crotty, did not agree, but to which
names of five of the theological professors were attached.
The persons who were mainly instrumental in getting up a
declaration in favor of passive obedience (which is, however,
more mitigated than the famous proclamation of servility
which issued from the University of Oxford) were two old
French doctors of Sorbonne, who had found bread in the
Irish College, Monsieur de la Hogue and Monsieur FranQoig-
d'Anglade. These individuals belonged, when in their own
country, to the " ancien regime ;" and, with a good deal of
learning, imported into Ireland a very strong relish for submis
sion. The following was their protest against Dr. Doyle : —

384 CATHOLIC LEADEES.
"Royal Catholic College of St. Patrick, Maynooth, — In con
sequence of recent public allusions to the domestic education
of the Catholic Clergy, we the undersigned. Professors of the
Eoman Catholic College of Maynooth, deem it a duty which
we owe to Eeligion and to the country, solemnly and publicly
to state, that, in our respective situations, we have uniformly
inculcated allegiance to our gracious Sovereign, respect for the
constituted authorities, and obedience to the Laws.
" In discharging this solemn duty, we have been guided by
the unchangeable principles of the Catholic Eeligion, plainly
and forcibly contained in the following precepts of St. Peter
and St. Paul :
" ' Be ye subject, therefore, to every human creature for
God's sake ; whether it be to the King, as excelling, or to
governors sent by him, for the punishment of evil-doers, and
for the praise of the good : for so is the will of God, that by
doing well you may put to silence the ignorance of foolish
men, as free and not as making liberty a cloak for malice, but
as the servants of God. Honor all men. Love the brother
hood. Fear God. Honor the King  For this is thanks-
worthy, if for conscience toward God a man endures sorrows,
suffering wrongfully. For what glory is it, if committing sin,
and being suffering for it, you endure ? But if doing well you
suffer patiently, this is thanks-worthy before God.' 1st Ep.
of St. Peter, c. ii.
" ' Let every soul be subject to higher powers : for there is
no power but from God ; and those that are, are ordained of
God. Therefore, he that resisteth the power, resisteth the
ordinance of God. And they that resist, purchase to them
selves damnation. For Princes are not a terror to the good
work, but to the evil. Wilt thou, then, not he afraid of the
Power? Do that which is good, aud thou shalt have praise for
the same.  Wherefore be subject of necessity, not only for
wrath, but also for conscience sake.' Ep. to the Eom. c. xiii.
" Our commentaries on these texts can not be better con
veyed than in the language of Tertullian : ' Christians are
aware who has conferred their power on the Emperors : tliey
know it is God, after whom they are first in rank, and second to

"j. K. L." 385
no other. From the same Source which imparts life they also
derive their power. We Christians invoke on all the Emjierois
the blessings of long life, a prosperous reign, domestic secnrily,
a brave army, a devoted senate, and a moral people' —
Apology, chap. 30.
" Into the sincerity of these professions we challenge Ihe
most rigid inquiry; and we appeal with confidence to the
peaceable and loyal conduct of the Clergy educated in this
Establishment, and to their exertions to preserve the public
order, as evidence of the soundness of the principles inculcated
in this College. These principles are the same which have
been ever taught by the Catholic Ohurch; and if any change
has been wrought in the minds of the Clergy of Ireland, it is,
that religious obligation is here strengthened by motives of
gratitude, and confirmed by sworn allegiance, from which no
power on earth can absolve."
Such was the Sorbonne manifesto, which, notwithstanding
the awful names of La Hogue and d'Anglade, was laughed at
by the Irish priesthood. The reputation of Doctor Doyle was
more widely extended by this effort of antiquated divinity to
- suppress him ; and the Government found additional proofs in
the result of his publication of the unfortunate truths which it
contained. J. K. L., the name by which Dr. Doyle is generally known,
and which is composed of the initials of his titular designation,
threw into the Catholic Association all the influence of his
sacred authority; and, having openly joined that body, in
creased the reverence with which the people had previously
considered its proceedings, and imparted to it something of a
religious character. The example which was given by Doctor
Doyle was followed by other dignitaries of the Church, of
whom the most remarkable are Doctor Murray, the Archbishop
of Dublin, and Doctor Kelly, the Bishop of Waterford.
Doctor Murray is the successor of the late Doctor Troy.*
* The Right Reverend Thomas Troy, D. D., Roman Catholic Archbishop of
Dublin; was bom July 7, 1739, and died May 11, 1823. It is curious and histor
ically instructive, to compare this prelate's poverty with the wealth of some of
the Protestant hierarch/. The personal property left hy each of the last tbiee
Vol,. L — 17

386 CATHOLIC LEADEES.
That excellent ecclesiastic had for many years presided over
the see of Dublin, rather with the prudence and caution which
had been acquired in times of political oppression, than with
the energy and determination which became the augmenting
power of the Catholic body. He had acquired his habits at
an epoch, if not of servility, of oppression, and had been ac
customed to accomplish, by dexterous acquiescence, what would
now be insisted upon as a right. During the Irish rebellion
he is said to have shown great skill ; and, by his influence at
the Oaslle, prevented the Eoman Catholic chapels from being
closed up. He was accounted a good divine, but had neither
tbe faculty of composition nor of speech. He had received
his education at Eome, aud was a member of the order of St.
Dominic. He had the look, too, of a holy bon-vivant, for he
was squat and corpulent, had a considerable abdominal pleni
tude, and a ruddy countenance, with a strong determination
of blood to the nose. Yet his aspect belied him, for he was
conspicuous for the simplicity and abstemiousness of his life ;
and although Lord Noi-bury, observing Mr. .lEueas M'Donnel
descending the steps of his liouse, exclaimed, "There .is pious
jEneas coming from the sack of Troy," and by the celebrity.
of the pun extended to the Doctor a renown for hospitality,
the latter had scarcely tbe meaus of supporting himself in a
manner consistent with his clerical station. He died in ex
ceeding poverty, for one guinea only was found in his posses
sion. This arose partly from the narrowness of his income,
and partly from his generous disposition. He had about eight
hundred pounds a-year, and expended it on the poor.
This good man was succeeded by tbe present Archbishop of
Dublin, Doctor Murray.* He was educated in the University
Archbishops of Armagh was over two huridred thousand pounds sterling. The
income of the Bishopric of Derry which is now only four thousand five hun
dred pounds sterling a year! was formerly twenty thousand — more, in fact,
than that of the Archbishopric of Tuam. Therefore when the Earl of Bristol,
Bishop of Derry, had the offer of the arcb-dioctse of Tuam, his significant reply
was " I iH-efer meum to tuum." As a general rule, the Protestant bishops leave
much wealth behind them, and the Catholic prelates accuinulate nothing. — M.
* The late Archbishop Murray was respected by all classes and creeds for
his liberality of opinion and his practical common sense. He was well appre-

AECHBIt^UOPS OUUTIS AXU IIUERAY. 387
of Salamanca, but his mind is untarnished by the smoke of the
scholastic lamp, and he has a spirit of liberty within him which
shows how compatible the ardent citizen is with the enthusias
tic priest. His manners are not at all Spanish, although he
passed many years in Spain under tbe tuition of Doctor Curtis,
the Catholic Primate, who was professor of theology in Sala-
manca,tand is one of its peculiar " Bachelors." Doctor Curtis
is almost more Spanish than the Spanish themselves, for be
has a restlessness of gesture, and a flexibility of the physiog
nomical muscles, which surpass the vivacity of Andalusia, and
with one finger laid upon his nose, with his ej'es starting from
his head, and with the other hand quivering like that of a
Chinese juggler, he presents the most singular spectacle of
episcopal vividness, at the age of ninety-one, which I have
ever seen.
His pupil aud brother-Archbishop of Dublin is meek, com
posed, and placid, and has an expression of patience, of sweet
ness, and benignity, united with strong intellectual intimations,
which would fix the attention of any ordinary observer who
chanced to see him in the public way. He has great dignity
and simplicity of deportment, and has a bearing befitting his
rank without the least touch of arrogance. His voice is singu
larly soft and harmonious ; and even in reproof itself lie does
ciated by successive Viceroys, since 1829- — even the most intolerant of them
respecting a man who wielded'immense power, but avoided all misdirection of
it. Like his predecessor. Dr. Troy, he died poor. — M.
* Dr. Curtis, Catholic primate of Ireland, had held a high official position
in Salamanca, when the Duke of Wellington was battling with the French, in
the Peninsula, and had rendered such .essential services to his Grace, that,
after the war was over, they continued to correspond, as friends. In Decem
ber, 1828, when O'ConneU's election for Clare had Ijrought on a crisis, he wrote
to the Duke, pressing Catholic Emancipation on him, as u necessity. The
Duke's reply was dubious — he did not see how the desiderated measure could
then be granted, and ho recommended that the question " be buried in oblivion"
for a time, so that men might calmly consider it 1 Dr. Cm-tis sent this letter
to the Marquis of Anglesea, who took it as involving a sort of promise to do
"justice to Ireland" and wrote a reply, accordingly, urging that the question
be agitated, and not buried in oblivion. For this expression of his opinions
he was recalled — but, in less than two months, Wellington came before tiie
country, with a proposal, on the part of the Government, to grant the Catholic
claims. — M.

388 CATIIOLTC LLADEES.
not put his Christian gentleness aside. His preaching is of
the first order. It is difficult to hear his sermons upon charity
¦\\'itliout tears; and there is, independently of the charms of
diction and tbe graces of elocution, of which he is a master, an
internal evidence of his own profound conviction of what he
utters, that makes its way to the heart. When he stands in
the pulpit, it is no exaggeration to say that he diffuses a kind
bf piety about him ; he seems to belong to the holy edifice,
and it may be said of him with perfect truth —
" At church, with meek and unaffected grace.
His lc(jks adoiTied the venerable place."
It is obvious that such a man, attended by all the influence
which his office, his abilities, and his apostolic life, confer upon
him, must have added great weight to the proceedings of the
Association, when, with a zeal in patriotism corresponding with
his ardor in religion, he caused himself to be enrolled among
its members. " The contemplation of the wrongs of my coun
try" (he exclaimed, at a public meeting held in the beautiful
and magnificent Catholic Cathedral in Marlborough street, Dub
lin) — "the contemplation of the wrongs of my country makes
my soul burn within me !" As he spoke thus, he presbod to his
heart the hand which the people were accustomed to see ex
alted from the altar in raising the Host to heaven. His fine
countenance was inflamed with emotion, and his whole frame
trembled under the dominion of tbe vehement feeling by which
he was excited.
These are the men whom our Government, in its wisdom,
have placed in alienation from the state, and whose character
has been sketched in the passage which I have quoted from
the works of Doctor Doyle. The other eminent ecclesiastic
who contributed greatly to augment tbe power of the Associa
tion, was Doctor Kelly, the terror of the Beresfords, and the
author of Mr. Villiers Stuart. This able man, the Becket of
Ireland, was imported to us from America.

END OP VOL. I.

YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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ii'rl:.¦IrSf.'.'^" H?iU.