Part 10

Two ladies, about the period of my entrance into public life, and another some time after, became very conspicuous for their beauty, though extremely different in all points both of appearance and manners. They still live:—two of them I greatly admired—not for beauty alone, but for an address the most captivating; and one of these, especially, for the kindest heart and the soundest sense, when she gave it fair play, that I have (often) met with amongst females.

In admitting my great preference for this individual lady, I may, perhaps, be accused of partiality, less to herself than to a family:—be it so!—she was the wife of my friend, and I esteem her for his sake: but she is an excellent woman, and I esteem the Honourable Mrs. C. Hutchinson also for her own.

Another of the ladies alluded to, Lady M—, is a gentlewoman of high birth, and was then, though not _quite_ a beauty, in all points attractive: indeed, her entire person was symmetrical and graceful. She passed her spring in misfortune—her summer in misery—her autumn without happiness!—but I hope the winter of her days is spent amidst every comfort. Of the third lady I have not yet spoken:—though far inferior to both the former, she has succeeded better in life than either; and, beginning the world without any pretensions beyond mediocrity, is likely to end her days in ease and more than ordinary respectability.

My first knowledge of Lady M— arose from a circumstance which was to me of singular professional advantage; and, as it forms a curious anecdote, I will proceed to relate it.

At the assizes of Wexford, while I was but young at the bar, I received a brief in a cause of Sir R—— M——, Bart., against a Mr. H——. On perusal, I found it was an action brought by the baronet against the latter gentleman respecting his lady, and that I was retained as advocate for the lady’s honour. It was my “first appearance” in that town. But, alas! I had a _senior_ in the business; and therefore was without opportunity of attempting any display. The ill-fated Bagenal Harvey[30] was that senior counsel, and he had prepared himself to make some exhibition in a cause of so much and such universal excitement. I felt dispirited, and would willingly have given up twenty fees to possess his opportunity.

Footnote 30:

An unfortunate friend of mine who was afterward hanged, and his head stuck over the door of the same court-house.

The cause proceeded before Judge Kelly: the evidence of Sir R—— M—— was finished, and the proper time for the defence had arrived; every thing as to the lady was at stake. Bagenal Harvey had gone out to take fresh air, and probably to read over some notes, or con some florid sentences and quotations with which he intended to interlard his elocution. At the moment the evidence closed the judge desired me to proceed. I replied, that Mr. Harvey, my senior, would return into court directly.

Judge Kelly, who was my friend, said he would not delay public business one minute for anybody; and, by a sort of instinct, or rather impulse,—I cannot indeed exactly say what it was, but certainly it was totally _impromptu_,—I began to state her ladyship’s case. I always had words enough at command: the evidence afforded sufficient material for their exercise; and, in fact, being roused by the cause into a sort of knight-errantry, I felt myself completely identified with it. If I should succeed, it would greatly serve me. I forgot poor Bagenal Harvey, and was just getting into the marrow and pathos of my case, when the crier shouted out “Clear the way for Counsellor Harvey!” Bagenal came in, puffing and blowing, and struggling through the crowd—scarcely able to command utterance. I instantly stopped, and begged his pardon, adding that the judge had said the public time could wait for nobody! “So,” continued I, “let me just show you where I left off! (turning over the leaves of my brief:)—there, begin there—it will be useless to repeat what I have already said; so begin there.” A loud laugh succeeded.

Bagenal, though generally very good-tempered, became irritated as much as he was susceptible of being, and whispered me that he considered it a personal insult: while old Judge Kelly gravely said, “Go on, Mr. Barrington, go on! we can have no speeches by dividends: go on, sir!” So on I went, and I believe, (because every body told me so,) that my impromptu speech was entirely successful. I discredited the witnesses by ridicule, destroyed all sympathy with the husband, and interested every body for the wife. In short, I got the judge and jury into good-humour. Yet, I know not that I should have ensured a verdict, had not a certain point of law, which I believe was then started for the first time, occurred to me; and which, though rational in itself, and on that trial recognised by the judge, has since been overruled in _terms_, though it stands in _substance_;—namely, if a husband cannot truly aver that he has sustained mental injury by the loss of that comfort arising from the _society_ of a wife, it is anomalous to say he has any claim to damages; and this averment can scarcely be made where the parties have been separated voluntarily and completely for years.[31]

Footnote 31:

This is, indeed, altogether a species of action, placing a price upon dishonour, maintained in no country but England (a money country). Why not transfer the offence to the _criminal_ side of the courts of justice? All the rest of Europe ridicules our system. The idea entertained on the continent upon such occasions is _silence_ or _death_!—if not the most lucrative, certainly the most _honourable_ mode of procedure.—An _affectionate_ husband cannot be recompensed by _any_ thing, and a _rich_ seducer cannot be _punished_. But if the gentleman was to be sent to a _tread_-mill, and the lady to _solitary_ confinement, adultery would soon be as much out of fashion as it is now the _haut goût_.

The judge, the kindest-hearted man living, chuckled at this new point. The jury, who did not much admire the plaintiff, were quite pleased with my suggestion; and after the judge had given his charge, in a few minutes, to the utter discomfiture of the baronet, there was a verdict against him! His lips quivered; he stood pale and trembling with anger; and subsequently quitted the town with the utmost expedition.

Some time after, a complete reconciliation took place between the parties, so far that her ladyship consented to live with him again—influenced much, I rather think, by having suffered great inconvenience, if not distress, from want of regularity in the receipt of her separate maintenance of 700_l._ per annum. I had the pleasure of meeting her frequently afterwards at the lady lieutenant’s parties.

The conclusion of the renewed intercourse is too curious to be omitted. Sir R—— had taken a house in Nassau Street, in the city of Dublin; and it was thought possible that he and his wife might, at any rate, pass some time under the same roof: but fate decided otherwise.

Sir R—— was literally insane on all political subjects, his imagination being occupied, night and day, with nothing but papists, jesuits, popes, priests, and rebels. Once in the dead of the night his lady was awakened by a sense of positive suffocation, and rousing herself, found that Sir R—— was in the very act of strangling her!—He had grasped her by the throat with all his might, and, muttering heavy imprecations, had nearly succeeded in his diabolical attempt.—She struggled, and at length extricated herself from his grasp; upon which he roared out, making a fresh effort—“You infernal _papist rebel_! you United Irishman! You _eternal villain_! I’ll never part from you alive, if you don’t come quietly to the guard-house!”

In fact this crazy Orange-man had in his dream fancied that he was contesting with a rebel, whom he had better choke than suffer to escape, and poor Lady M—— was nearly sacrificed to his excess of loyalty. In her _robe de chambre_ and slippers she contrived to get out of the house, and never more ventured to return, as she now clearly perceived that even her personal safety could not be calculated on in her husband’s society.

I have in another work given a full character of Sir R—— M——, and stated my opinion of his worse than mischievous history of Ireland. One more anecdote of him, and I have done.

Whilst he was high sheriff for the county of Waterford, an old man was sentenced to be whipped at the cart’s tail for some political offence; when, the executioner not being in readiness, the _high sheriff_,—a baronet and member of Parliament,—took up the cat-o’-nine-tails, ordered the cart to move on _slowly_, and operated himself with admirable expertness, but much greater severity than the hangman would have used!—Thus did he proceed to whip the old man through the streets of the city; and when the extreme point was reached, the sentence executed, and he was scarcely able to raise his arm, he publicly regretted he had not a little farther to go!

Lady M—— was, in her own right, entitled to a fortune of 15,000_l._, to be paid only on her marriage. Her father, a gentleman of rank and estate, had by some mismanagement in office become extremely embarrassed. Sir R— M—, a man of family, but whose fortune was not large, cast his eye on her beauty—not totally overlooking her property. His taste was indisputably good; the lady being, at that period, every thing that could be desired! She possessed an ardent mind, great constitutional gaiety, and a sensitive heart;—to which were added a most engaging figure and a lovely and expressive countenance. Her father she loved dearly; and for his unhappy circumstances, therefore, her heart bled; but Sir R— M— could make no impression upon it. On the contrary, he excited her aversion.—Thus her affections being unattainable, the baronet resolved, if possible, to _purchase_ her hand, leaving her heart to some future opportunity! Hence commences the affecting narrative of her ladyship’s wrongs and misfortunes, related to me by herself, almost unconsciously, in broken fragments, and at several times.

“I was not aware (said she) what caused my dear father’s obvious unhappiness, and often was I surprised at the pertinacity with which he pressed the baronet upon my consideration. I rejected him over and over again; still his suit was renewed, still my father appeared more anxious on his behalf, whilst my mother seconded their wishes.—My aversion increased; yet Sir R— M—’s assiduities were redoubled with his repulses; and at length I contemplated the leaving my father’s house, if I were longer persecuted by these addresses.

“Though young, I knew the failing of my own character, which possessed not sufficient resolution to oppose its constitutional tendencies. Nature had formed me for all the pleasures and the pains which are alike inseparable from sensibility. I found a glow in every thought—an enthusiasm in every action. My feelings were always _in earnest_. I could love to excess, and hate to rancour! but I could do neither with mediocrity. I could be the best or the worst of wives. I could endure any thing with a man I loved, but could not sit upon a throne with one whom I detested.

“At length, I discovered the whole of my father’s more than pressing embarrassments; and understood that Sir R— M— had agreed to give up to him a considerable portion of my fortune if our marriage was effected. This shock to such a disposition as mine was cruel; and the dilemma was distracting: it involved my father’s comforts—or my own misery!

“Often, as we sat at our family repasts, have I perceived that dear parent lay down the fork he was conveying to his lips, and turn away to conceal the agitation of mind which might have betrayed to us that distress he was endeavouring to conceal.

“Gradually, I found that filial affection was taking the strongest hold of me. I thought I could endure unhappiness myself, but I could not bear to see my father miserable. I weighed the consequences, and reasoned so far as I possessed the faculty of reasoning. I saw his ruin or my own was inevitable!

“The struggle was, indeed, sharp—it was long—it was _very_ painful: but at length filial piety prevailed over self; and I determined upon making the sacrifice. I communicated to my father my decision to admit the addresses of Sir R— M—, without hinting at my true reasons; but, at the same moment, I felt an indescribable change of character commence, which, from that sad period, has more or less affected every action of my life. I felt a sort of harsh sensation arise within my mind, and operate upon my temper, to which they had previously been strangers. My spirits flagged,—all pleasures grew insipid; and I perceived that the ice of indifference was chilling the sensibility of my nature.

“From the moment of my assent, my father’s disposition seemed to have undergone almost as radical a change as my own. He became once more cheerful, and I had at least the gratification of reflecting that, if I were myself lost, I had saved a parent! But I must remark that it was not so as to my mother—who, indeed, had not been kind to me.

“In due time the settlements were prepared, and my fortune, I learnt, secretly divided. The ceremony was about to be performed, and Sir R— M— at that very hour appeared to me to be the most disagreeable of mankind. There was a sort of uncouth civility—an abrupt, fiery, coarse expression, even in his most conciliating manners, which seemed to set all feelings of respect or cordiality at defiance. As to love, he was not susceptible of the passion; whilst I was created to enjoy its tenderest blessings. He was half mad by nature;—I had become so from misery! and in this state of mind we met to be united at the altar! I was determined, however, that he should learn by anticipation what he had to expect from me as a wife. ‘Sir R— M—, (said I to him,) I am resolved to give you the last proof you will ever receive of my candour. I accept you, not only as a husband whom I never can love, and never will obey, but whom I absolutely detest!—now marry me at your peril, and take the consequences!’—He laughed convulsively, took me by the hand, and having led me into the next room, that ceremony was performed to which I should have thought a sentence of death preferable. The moment we were united I retired to my chamber, where tears, flowing in torrents, cooled my heated feelings. My purpose in marrying was effected: I therefore determined that (if possible) I never would live an hour in his society, and it was two months before my ill-fated stars compelled me to become the actual wife of the most unfeeling and abominable of fanatics.

“Our residence together of course was short, and at twenty-one I was thrown upon the world, to avoid my husband’s society. Being possessed of sufficient means, I travelled; and for the fourteen years of our separation my whole time was an unnatural and continued strife between passion and propriety. On a late occasion, you were my counsel, and from you nothing has been concealed. You did me more than justice—you have defeated him, and preserved me!”

I have not seen her ladyship for these many years; but never did I meet with one whom I conceived to be more completely thrown away, or whose natural disposition seemed better calculated to lead to her own happiness and to the happiness of those within her sphere of influence. I speak of her as she was when I knew her; and I have no reason to alter my impressions. Her father, mother, and husband, are all gone: how she is situated with regard to her surviving connexions, I know not.

PATRICIANS AND PLEBEIANS.

The three classes of gentlemen in Ireland described—Irish poets—Mr. Thomas Flinter and D. Henesey—The bard—Peculiarities of the peasants—Their ludicrous misinformation as to distances accounted for—Civility of a waiter—Equivocation of the peasants, and their misdirection of travellers to different places.

I will now proceed to lay before the reader a brief but more general sketch of the state of Irish society at the period of my youth, reminding him of the principle which I have before assumed; namely, that of considering anecdotes, bon-mots, and the like, valuable only as they tend to exemplify interesting facts relative to history or manners: many such I have inserted in these fragments; and as I have been careful throughout to avoid mere inventions, my reader need not, by any means, reserve their perusal for the study of his travelling carriage.

Miss Edgeworth, in her admirable sketch of _Castle Rackrent_, gives a tolerably faithful picture of the Irish character under the combination of circumstances which she has selected; and the account that I am about to give may serve as an elucidation of the habits and manners of Irish country society about the period Miss Edgeworth alludes to, and somewhat later—with which she could not be so well acquainted.

In those days, the common people ideally separated the gentry of the country into three classes, and treated each class according to the relative degree of respect to which they considered it entitled.

They generally divided them thus:

1. _Half-mounted_ gentlemen.

2. Gentlemen _every inch of them_.

3. Gentlemen _to the back-bone_.

The first-named class formed the only species of independent yeomanry then existing in Ireland. They were the descendants of the small grantees of Queen Elizabeth, Cromwell, and King William III. by their confiscations; possessed about 200 or 300 acres of land each, in fee, from the Crown;[32] and were occasionally admitted into the society of better gentlemen—particularly hunters—living at other times amongst each other, with an intermixture of their own servants, with whom they were always on terms of intimacy. They generally had good clever horses, which could leap over any thing, but seldom felt the trimming-scissors or currycomb, unless they belonged to _jockey_ gentlemen. The riders commonly wore buck-skin breeches, and boots well greased, (blacking was never used in the country,) and carried large thong whips heavily loaded with lead at the butt-end, so that they were always prepared either to horsewhip a man or knock his brains out, as circumstances might dictate. These half-mounted gentlemen exercised hereditarily the authority of keeping the ground clear at horse-races, hurlings, and all public meetings (as soldiers keep the lines at a review). Their business was to ride round the inside of the ground, which they generally did with becoming spirit, trampling over some, knocking down others, and slashing every body who encroached on the proper limits. Bones being but very _seldom_ broken, and skulls still seldomer fractured, every body approved of their exertions, because all the by-standers gained thereby a full view of the sport which was going forward. A shout of merriment was always set up when a half-mounted gentleman knocked down an interloper; and some of the _poets_ present, if they had an opportunity, roared out their verses[33] by way of a song to encourage the gentlemen.

Footnote 32:

Their ancestors had mostly been troopers in the English armies, and were mingled amongst the Irish to _mend the breed_. They however soon imbibed the peculiarities of the Irish character with an increased ability to procure all its gratifications. In country sports they were quite pre-eminent, except a few who took exclusively to farming and drinking.

Footnote 33:

I recollect an example of those good-humoured madrigals. A poet, called Daniel Bran, sang a stanza aloud, as he himself lay sprawling on the grass, after having been knocked down with a loaded whip, and ridden over, by old Squire Flood, who showed no mercy in the “execution of his _duty_.”

“There was Despard so brave, (a soldier) And that son of the wave, (a sailor) And Tom Conway, the pride of the bower; (a farmer) But noble Squire Flood Swore, G—d d—n his blood! But he’d drown them all in the Delower.”

The second class, or gentlemen _every inch of them_, were of excellent old families;—whose finances were not in so good order as they might have been, but who were not the less popular amongst all ranks. They were far above the first degree, somewhat inferior to the third; but had great influence; were much beloved, and carried more sway at popular elections and general county meetings than the other two classes put together.

The third class, or gentlemen _to the back-bone_, were of the oldest families and settlers, universally respected, and idolised by the peasantry, although they also were generally a little out at elbows. Their word was law; their nod would have immediately collected an army of cottagers, or colliers, or whatever the population was composed of. Men, women, and children, were always ready and willing to execute any thing “the squire” required, without the slightest consideration as to either its danger or propriety. The grand juries were selected from the two last classes.[34]

Footnote 34:

These distinct classes have for some years been gradually losing their characteristic sharp points, and are now wearing fast away. The third class have mostly emigrated, and, like the _wolf-dogs_, will soon be extinct.

A curious circumstance perhaps rendered my family peculiarly popular. The common people had conceived the notion that the lord of Cullenaghmore had a right to save a man’s life every summer assizes at Maryborough; and it did frequently so happen, within my recollection, that my father’s intercession in favour of some poor deluded creatures (when the White Boy system was in activity) was kindly attended to by the government; and, certainly, besides this number, many others of his tenants owed their lives to similar interference. But it was wise in the government to accede to such representations; since their concession never failed to create such an influence in my father’s person over the tenantry, that he was enabled to preserve them in perfect tranquillity, whilst those surrounding were in a constant state of insubordination to all law whatever. Hanging the Irish will never either reform their morals, or thin their population.

I recollect a Mr. Tom Flinter, of Timahoe, one of the first-class gentlemen, who had speculated in cows and sheep, and every thing he could buy up, till his establishment was reduced to one blunt faithful fellow, Dick Henesey, who stuck to him throughout all his vicissitudes. Flinter had once on a time got a trifle of money, which was burning in his greasy pocket, and he wanted to expend it at a neighbouring fair! where his whole history, as well as the history of every man of his half-mounted contemporaries, was told in a few verses,[35] by a fellow called Ned the dog-stealer, but who was also a _great poet_, and resided in the neighbourhood:—he was remarkably expert at both his trades.

Footnote 35:

These lines were considered as a standing joke for many years in that part of the country, and ran as follows:

Dialogue between Tom Flinter and his man.

TOM FLINTER. Dick! said he;

DICK HENESEY. What? said he;

TOM FLINTER. Fetch me my hat: says he; For I will go, says he; To Timahoe, says he; To buy the fair, says he; And all that’s there, says he.