Part 11

Mr. D'Esterre was advised to persist in the correspondence, and addressed another letter (but directed in a different hand-writing), to Mr. O'Connell. It was returned to him by Mr. James O'Connell, inclosed in a letter couched in the following terms:--

"Sir--From the tenor of your letter of yesterday, my brother did not expect that your next communication would have been made in _writing_. He directed me to open his letters in his absence; your last letter, bearing a different address from the former one, was opened by me; but upon perceiving the name subscribed, I have declined to read it; and by his directions I return it to you inclosed, and _unread_.--I am, sir, your obedient servant,

"James O'Connell. "Merrion-square, Friday Evening. "To J. N. D'Esterre, Esq., 11 Bachelor's-walk."

After a number of insulting letters from D'Esterre, his long-expected hostile message arrived.

Major M'Namara, of Doolen, having been commissioned by O'Connell, proceeded to Sir Edward Stanley, who acted as the friend of D'Esterre, to arrange the meeting. The hour appointed was three o'clock on Wednesday; the place, Bishop's Court Demesne, Lord Ponsonby's seat, in the county Kildare, thirteen miles distant from Dublin.

It was proposed by him that the mode of fighting should be after the following fashion:--That both should be handed a brace of pistols; reserve their shots until the signal, and then fire when they pleased; advancing or retiring after each shot, as they thought proper. Major M'Namara would not assent to this mode of fighting, without first consulting O'Connell and his friends. O'Connell at once directed him to accept the terms. Major M'Namara then returned to Sir Edward Stanley, and finally arranged the meeting. The parties proceeded to take their ground, and were handed a brace of pistols each. The signal was given. Both reserved their fire for some moments. D'Esterre first changed his position, moving a pace towards the left hand, and then stepped towards O'Connell. His object was to induce him to fire, more or less, at random. He lifted his pistol, as if about to fire. O'Connell instantly presented, pulled the trigger, and the unfortunate man fell.

In close attendance on O'Connell, at the ground, were Major M'Namara, Nicholas Purcell O'Gorman, and Richard Nugent Bennett, as seconds and friends; for all may be said to have acted in the double capacity.

It was reported in Dublin that O'Connell was shot; and a party of dragoons were despatched from Dublin, for the protection of D'Esterre. On their way the officer by whom they were commanded met, on its return, the carriage containing O'Connell and his brother. The officer called on the postilion to stop; whereupon Mr. James O'Connell pulled down the window. The officer, addressing him, asked if they had been present at the duel, to which he replied in the affirmative. The officer then said, "Is it true Mr. O'Connell has been shot?" Mr. James O'Connell replied, "No; the reverse is the fact; Mr. D'Esterre has unfortunately fallen." The announcement had a visible effect upon the military; they were not prepared for the intelligence; and something like consternation was exhibited. The carriage was allowed to proceed, the military party being evidently not aware who were its occupants.

When D'Esterre fell the spectators present could not refrain from giving expression to their excited feelings; they actually shouted; and a young collegian who was present, and who became a Protestant clergyman, was so carried away by the general feeling, as to fling up his hat in the air, and shout, "Hurra for O'Connell!"

Very different was the conduct of the three occupants of O'Connell's carriage. They displayed no exultation. The moment D'Esterre fell they went off; and though the place of meeting was near Naas, they were close to Dublin before a single word was exchanged between them. At last O'Connell broke the silence, saying, "I fear he is dead, he fell so suddenly. Where do you think he was hit?" "In the head, I think," said his medical friend. "That cannot be--I aimed low; the ball must have entered near the thigh." This will be considered a remarkable observation when, as was subsequently found, the wound was inflicted in the part mentioned by O'Connell. Being one of the surest shots that ever fired a pistol, he could have hit his antagonist where he pleased. But his object was merely, in self-defence, to wound him in no mortal part, and he aimed low with that intention.

The excitement in Dublin, when the result was known, cannot be described; and, indeed, is scarcely credited by those who were not then in the metropolis. Over seven hundred gentlemen left their cards at O'Connell's the day after the occurrence.

Great commiseration was felt for D'Esterre's family, but it was considered that he himself lost his life foolishly. It may be added that he was an officer in the navy, and an eccentric character. He at one time played off rather a serious joke upon his friends, who resided near Cork. He wrote to them from aboard that he was sentenced to be hanged for mutiny, and implored of them to use every interest to save him. Lord Shannon interested himself in the affair, and the greatest trouble was taken to obtain a pardon. But it turned out to be a hoax practised by D'Esterre, when under the influence of the Jolly God. Knowing his character, many even of opposite politics, notwithstanding the party spirit that then prevailed, regretted the issue the unfortunate man provoked.

O'CONNELL AND SECRETARY GOULBURN.

Mr. Goulburn, while Secretary for Ireland, visited Killarney, when O'Connell (then on circuit) happened to be there. Both stopped at Finn's Hotel, and chanced to get bedrooms opening off the same corridor. The early habits of O'Connell made him be up at cock-crow. Finding the hall-door locked, and so being hindered from walking outside, he commenced walking up and down the corridor. To pass the time, he repeated aloud some of Moore's poetry, and had just uttered the lines--

"We tread the land that bore us, The green flag flutters o'er us, The friends we've tried are by our side--"

At this moment Goulburn popped his nightcapped head out, to see what was the matter. O'Connell instantly pointed his finger at him, and finished the verse--

"And the foe we hate before us!"

In went Goulburn's head in the greatest hurry.

ENTRAPPING A WITNESS.

An illustration of his dexterity in compassing an unfortunate culprit's acquittal may be here narrated.

He was employed in defending a prisoner who was tried for a murder committed in the vicinity of Cork. The principal witness swore strongly against the prisoner--one corroborative circumstance was, that the prisoner's hat was found near the place where the murder took place. The witness swore positively the hat produced was the one found, and that it belonged to the prisoner, whose name was James.

"By virtue of your oath, are you positive that this is the same hat?" "Yes." "Did you examine it carefully before you swore in your informations that it was the prisoner's?" "Yes." "Now, let me see," said O'Connell, and he took up the hat, and began carefully to examine the inside. He then spelled aloud the name James--slowly, thus:--"J--a--m--e--s." "Now, do you mean those words were in the hat when you found it?" "I do." "Did you see them there." "I did." "This is the same hat?" "It is." "Now, my Lord," said O'Connell, holding up the hat to the Bench, "there is an end to the case--there is no name whatever inscribed in the hat." The result was instant acquittal.

GAINING OVER A JURY.

At a Cork Assizes, many years ago, he was employed in an action of damages, for diverting a stream from its regular channel, or diverting so much of it as inflicted injury on some party who previously benefited by its abundance. The injury was offered by a nobleman, and his attorney, on whose advice the proceeding was adopted, was a man of corpulent proportions, with a face bearing the ruddy glow of rude health, but, flushed in a crowded court, assumed momentarily, a color like that imparted by intemperance. He really was a most temperate man.

O'Connell dwelt on the damage his client had sustained by the unjust usurpation. The stream should have been permitted to follow its old and natural course. There was neither law nor justice in turning it aside from his client's fields. He had a light to all its copiousness, and the other party should have allowed him full enjoyment. In place of that, the latter monopolized the water--he diminished it. It became every day small by degrees and beautifully less. "There is not now," he said, "gentlemen of the jury, a tenth of the ordinary quantity. The stream is running dry--and so low is it, and so little of it is there, that," continued he, turning to the rubicund attorney, and naming him, "there isn't enough in it to make grog for Fogatty."

A roar of laughter followed, and it was not stopped by the increased rosiness and embarrassment of the gentleman who became the victim of the learned advocate's humorous allusion. The tact in this sally was, in endeavoring to create an impression on the jury that his poor client was sacrificed by the harsh conduct of a grog-drinking attorney, and thus create prejudice against the plaintiff's case. Thus did O'Connell gain the hearts of Irish juries; and thus did he, indulging his own natural humor, on the public platform, gain the affections of his countrymen.

PADDY AND THE PARSON.

In June, 1832, O'Connell addressed a meeting of the Political Union of the London working classes. In his address, he humorously and graphically describes the system of passive resistance then adopted against the payment of Tithes, in the following amusing dialogue between Paddy and the parson:--

"And how does Paddy act? Does he disobey the laws? No. 'Paddy,' says the parson, 'you owe me £l 17s. 6d.' 'And what may it be for, your Riverence!' says Pat (laughter). 'Tithes! Paddy.' 'Arrah! thin I suppose your Riverence gave some value fornint I was born; for divil a bit I ever seen since (roars of laughter). But your Riverence, I suppose, has law for it? Bless the law! your honor, and sure an I wouldn't be after going to disobey it; but plase your Riverence, I have no money' (great laughter). 'Ah, Pat, but you've a cow there. 'Yes, your Riverence, that's the cow that gives food to Norry and the fourteen childer.' 'Well, Paddy, then I must distrain that cow.' 'If your honor has law for it, to be sure you will.' Well, what does Paddy do? He stamps the word 'Tithes' upon her side, and the parson can't find a soul to take the cow. So he gets a regiment and a half, by way of brokers (much laughter)--fourteen or fifteen companies, with those amiable young gentlemen, their officers, at their head, who march seventeen or eighteen miles across the Bog of Allen to take his cow; they bring the cow to Carlow; when they get there, they find a great crowd assembled; the parson rubs his hands with glee. 'Plenty of customers for the cow,' quoth he to himself. The cow is put up at £2--no bidder; £1--no bidder; 10s--5s.--6d.--1-1/2d. (cheers). Not a soul will bid, and back goes the cow to Norry and the fourteen childer (continued cheers)."

A MARTIAL JUDGE.

In Court his usual mirth and ready wit never failed him; and he kept the bar and listening by-standers in constant hilarity. He made an excellent hit during the trial of Sir George Bingham, for assault, during the tithe agitation. The General's Aide-de-Camp, Captain Berners, of the Royal Artillery, was under examination. A junior counsel asked the witness, "What is the meaning of the military phrase, 'ride him down?'"

"Do you think," interposed O'Connell, "we are here to get an explanation of plain English from an English Aide-de-Camp, with his tongue in holiday dress?" then turning to the witness, he said, "You belong to the Artillery and understand horse language?"--"Yes." Mr. Justice Moore, who tried the case, here observed--"I ought to understand it, Mr. O'Connell, for I was a long while Captain of cavalry." "Yes you were, my lord," replied O'Connell, "and I recollect you a long time a _Sergeant_, too." This ready sally caused a burst of laughter throughout the whole court.

RETENTIVE MEMORY.

At Darrynane, he was sitting one morning, surrounded by country people, some asking his advice, some his assistance, others making their grievances known. Amongst the rest was a farmer rather advanced in life, a swaggering sort of fellow, who was desirous to carry his point by impressing the Liberator with the idea of his peculiar honesty and respectability. He was anxious that O'Connell should decide a matter in dispute between him and a neighboring farmer who, he wished to insinuate, was not as good as he ought to be. "For my part, I, at least, can boast that neither I nor mine were ever brought before a judge or sent to jail, however it was with others."

"Stop, stop, my fine fellow," cried the Liberator--"Let me see," pausing a moment. "Let me see; it is now just twenty-five years ago, last August, that I myself saved you from transportation, and had you discharged from the dock."

The man was thunderstruck; he thought such a matter could not be retained in the great man's mind. He shrunk away, murmuring that he should get justice elsewhere, and never appeared before the Liberator afterwards.

A POLITICAL HURRAH AT A FUNERAL.

Ascending the mountain road between Dublin and Glencullen, in company with an English friend, O'Connell was met by a funeral. The mourners soon recognized him, and immediately broke into a vociferous hurrah for their political favorite, much to the astonishment of the Sassenach; who, accustomed to the solemn and lugubrious decorum of English funerals, was not prepared for an outburst of Celtic enthusiasm upon such an occasion. A remark being made on the oddity of a political hurrah at a funeral, it was replied that the corpse would have doubtless cheered lustily too, if he could.

REFUSAL OF OFFICE.

In 1838, on the morning when O'Connell received from the Government the offer to be appointed Lord Chief Baron, he walked over to the window, saying:

"This is very kind--very kind, indeed!--but I haven't the least notion of taking the offer. Ireland could not spare me now; not but that, _if she could_, I don't at all deny that the office would have great attractions for me. Let me see, now--there would not be more than about eight days' duty in the year; I would take a country house near Dublin, and walk into town; and during the intervals of judicial labor, I'd go to Derrynane. I should be idle in the early part of April, just when the jack-hares leave the most splendid trails upon the mountains. In fact, I should enjoy the office exceedingly upon every account, if I could but accept it consistently with the interests of Ireland--But I Cannot."

A MISTAKEN FRENCHMAN.

When travelling in France, during the time of his sojourn at St. Omer's, O'Connell encountered a very talkative Frenchman, who incessantly poured forth the most bitter tirades against England. O'Connell listened in silence; and the Frenchman, surprised at his indifference, at last exclaimed,--

"Do you hear, do you understand what I am saying, sir?"

"Yes, I hear you, I comprehend you perfectly."

"Yet you do not seem angry?"

"Not in the least."

"How can you so tamely bear the censures I pronounce against your country?"

"Sir, England is not my country. Censure her as much as you please, you cannot offend me. I am an Irishman, and my countrymen have as little reason to love England as yours have, perhaps less."

EPISTOLARY BORES.

The number of letters received by O'Connell upon trivial subjects was sufficient to try his patience, as the following will show:--

A letter once arrived from New York, which, on opening, he found to contain a minute description of a Queen Anne's farthing recently found by the writer, with a modest request that "Ireland's Liberator" might negotiate the sale of the said farthing in London; where, as many intelligent persons had assured him, he might make his fortune by it.

Another modest correspondent was one Peter Waldron, also of New York, whose epistle ran thus:--"Sir, I have discovered an old paper, by which I find that my grandfather, Peter Waldron, left Dublin about the year 1730. You will very much oblige me by instituting an immediate inquiry who the said Peter Waldron was; whether he possessed any property in Dublin or elsewhere, and to what amount; and in case that he did, you will confer a particular favor on me by taking immediate steps to recover it, and if successful, forwarding the amount to me at New York."

At another time a Protestant clergyman wrote to apprise him that he and his family were all in prayer for his conversion to the Protestant religion; and that the writer was anxious to engage in controversy with so distinguished an antagonist.

The letters with which he was persecuted, soliciting patronage, were innumerable. "Everybody writes to me about everything," said he, "and the applicants for places, without a single exception, tell me that _one word_ of mine will infallibly get them what they want. _One word_! Oh, how sick I am of that '_One word_!'"

Some of his rural correspondents entertained odd ideas of his attributes. He said that "from one of them he got a letter commencing with 'Awful Sir!'"

SIR R. PEEL'S OPINION OF O'CONNELL.

Sir Robert Peel is said to have expressed his high appreciation of O'Connell's parliamentary abilities. While the Reform Bill was under discussion, the speeches of its friends and foes were one day canvassed at Lady Beauchamp's. On O'Connell's name being mentioned, some critic fastidiously said, "Oh, a broguing Irish fellow! who would listen to _him?_ I always walk out of the House when he opens his lips," "Come, Peel," said Lord Westmoreland, "let me hear your opinion." "My opinion candidly is," replied Sir Robert, "that if I wanted an efficient and eloquent advocate, I would readily give up all the other orators of whom we have been talking, provided I had with me this same broguing Irish fellow.'"

* * * * *

At the Bishop of Waterford's table, the following anecdote was related by O'Connell:

"My grandmother had twenty-two children, and half of them lived beyond the age of ninety. Old Mr. O'Connell of Derrynane, pitched upon an oak tree to make his own coffin, and mentioned his purpose to a carpenter. In the evening, the butler entered after dinner to say that the carpenter wanted to speak with him. 'For what?' asked my uncle. 'To talk about your honor's coffin,' said the carpenter, putting his head inside the door over the butler's shoulder. I wanted to get the fellow out, but my uncle said, 'Oh! let him in by all means.--Well, friend, what do you want to say to me about my coffin?' 'Only, sir, that I'll saw up the oak tree that your honor was speaking of into seven-foot plank.' 'That would be wasteful,' answered my uncle; 'I never was more than six feet and an inch in my vamps, the best day ever I saw.' 'But your honor will stretch after death,' said the carpenter. 'Not eleven inches, I am sure, you blockhead! But I'll stretch, no doubt--perhaps a couple of inches or so. Well, make my coffin six feet six, and I'll warrant that will give me room enough!'"

* * * * *

"I remember," said O'Connell, "being counsel at a special commission in Kerry against a Mr. S----, and having occasion to press him somewhat hard in my speech, he jumped up in the court, and called me 'a purse-proud blockhead.' I said to him, 'In the first place I have got no purse to be proud of; and, secondly, if I be a blockhead, it is better for you, as I am counsel against you. However, just to save you the trouble of saying so again, I'll administer a slight rebuke'--whereupon I whacked him soundly on the back with the president's cane. Next day he sent me a challenge by William Ponsonby of Crottoe; but very shortly after, he wrote to me to state, that since he had challenged me, he had discovered that my life was inserted in a very valuable lease of his. 'Under these circumstances,' he continued, 'I cannot afford to shoot you, unless, as a precautionary measure, you first insure your life for my benefit. If you do, then heigh for powder and ball! I'm your man.' Now this seems so ludicrously absurd, that it is almost incredible; yet it is literally true. S---- was a very timid man; yet he fought six duels--in fact, he fought them all out of pure fear."

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Judge Robinson was the author of many stupid, slavish, and scurrilous political pamphlets; and, by his demerits, raised to the eminence which he thus disgraced.--_Lord Brougham_.

[2] The name by which Methodists are known in Ireland.