Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 1 (of 3)
Had I never viewed such a scene before, it would have almost terrified me; but it was nothing more than the ordinary custom which we called waking the piper.20
I sent away my carriage and its fair inmate to Castle Durrow, whence we had come, and afterward proceeded to seek my brother. No servant was to be seen, man or woman. I went to the stables, wherein I found three or four more of the goodly company, who had just been able to reach their horses, but were seized by Morpheus before they could mount them, and so lay in the mangers awaiting a more favourable opportunity. I apprehend some of the horses had not been as considerate as they should have been to tipsy gentlemen, since two or three of the latter had their heads cut by being kicked or trampled on. Returning hence to the cottage, I found my brother, also asleep, on the only bed which it then afforded: he had no occasion to put on his clothes, since he had never taken them off.
I next waked Dan Tyron, a wood-ranger of Lord Ashbrook, who had acted as maître d’hôtel in making the arrangements, and providing a horse-load of game to fill up the banquet. I then inspected the parlour, and insisted on breakfast. Dan Tyron set to work: an old woman was called in from an adjoining cabin, the windows were opened, the room cleared, the floor swept, the relics removed, and the fire lighted in the kitchen. The piper was taken away senseless, but my brother would not suffer either Joe or Alley to be disturbed till breakfast was ready. No time was lost; and, after a very brief interval, we had before us abundance of fine eggs, and milk fresh from the cow, with brandy, sugar and nutmeg in plenty; – a large loaf, fresh butter, a cold round of beef, (which had not been produced on the previous day,) red herrings, and a bowl-dish of potatoes roasted on the turf ashes; – in addition to which, ale, whiskey, and port made up the refreshments. All being duly in order, we at length awakened Joe Kelly, and Peter Alley, his neighbour: they had slept soundly, though with no other pillow than the wall; and my brother announced breakfast with a view holloa!21
The twain immediately started and roared in unison with their host most tremendously! it was however in a very different tone from the view holloa, – and continued much longer.
“Come boys,” says French, giving Joe a pull – “come!”
“Oh, murder!” says Joe, “I can’t!” – “Murder! – murder!” echoed Peter. French pulled them again, upon which they roared the more, still retaining their places. I have in my lifetime laughed till I nearly became spasmodic; but never were my risible muscles put to greater tension than upon this occasion. The wall, as I said before, had but just received a coat of mortar, and of course was quite soft and yielding when Joe and Peter, having no more cellarage for wine, and their eyesight becoming opake, thought proper to make it their pillow; it was nevertheless setting fast from the heat and lights of an eighteen hours’ carousal; and, in the morning, when my brother awakened his guests, the mortar had completely set, and their hair being the thing best calculated to amalgamate therewith, the entire of Joe’s stock, together with his queue, and half his head, was thoroughly and irrecoverably bedded in the greedy and now marble cement; – so that if determined to move, he must have taken the wall along with him, for separate it would not. One side of Peter’s head was in the same state of imprisonment, so as to give his bust the precise character of a bas-relief. Nobody could assist them, and there they both stuck fast.
A consultation was now held on this pitiful case, which I maliciously endeavoured to protract as long as I could, and which was every now and then interrupted by a roar from Peter or Joe, as each made fresh efforts to rise. At length, it was proposed by Dan Tyron to send for the stone-cutter, and get him to cut them out of the wall with a chisel. I was literally unable to speak two sentences for laughing. The old woman meanwhile tried to soften the obdurate wall with melted butter and new milk – but in vain. I related the school story how Hannibal had worked through the Alps with vinegar and hot irons: – this experiment likewise was made, but to no purpose; the hot irons touching the raw, only added a new octave to the roars of the captives, and the Carthaginian solvent had no better success than the old crone’s. Peter being of a more passionate nature, grew ultimately quite outrageous: he bellowed, gnashed his teeth, and swore vengeance against the mason; – but as he was only held by one side, a thought at last struck him: he asked for two knives, which being brought, he whetted one against the other, and introducing the blades close to his skull, sawed away at cross corners for half an hour, cursing and crying out during the whole operation, till at length he was liberated, with the loss only of half his hair, the skin of one jaw, and a piece of his scalp, which he had sliced off in zeal and haste for his liberty. I never saw a fellow so extravagantly happy! Fur was scraped from the crown of a new hat, to stop the bleeding; his head was duly tied up with the old woman’s praskeen;22 and he was soon in a state of bodily convalescence. Our solicitude was now required solely for Joe, whose head was too deeply buried to be exhumated with so much facility. At this moment Bob Casey, of Ballynakill, a very celebrated wig-maker, just dropped in, to see what he could pick up honestly in the way of his profession, or steal in the way of any thing else; and he immediately undertook to get Mr. Kelly out of the mortar by a very ingenious but tedious process, namely, – clipping with his scissors and then rooting out with an oyster knife. He thus finally succeeded, in less than an hour, in setting Joseph Kelly, Esq. once more at liberty, at the price of his queue, which was totally lost, and of the exposure of his raw and bleeding occiput. The operation was, indeed, of a mongrel description – somewhat between a complete tonsure and an imperfect scalping, to both of which denominations it certainly presented claims. However, it is an ill wind that blows nobody good! Bob Casey got the making of a skull-piece for Joe, and my brother French had the pleasure of paying for it, as gentlemen in those days honoured any order given while enjoying their hospitality, by a guest, to the family shop-keeper or artizan.
I ate a hearty breakfast, returned to Durrow, and, having rejoined my companion, we pursued our journey to Waterford, – amusing ourselves the greater part of the way with the circumstances just related, which, however, I do not record merely as an abstract anecdote, but, as I observed in starting, to show the manners and habits of Irish country society and sportsmen,23 even so recently as thirty-five years ago; and to illustrate the changes of those habits and manners, and the advances toward civilization, which, coupled with the extraordinary want of corresponding prosperity, present phenomena I am desirous of impressing upon my reader’s mind, throughout the whole of this miscellaneous collection of original anecdotes and observations.
CHOICE OF PROFESSION
The Army – Irish volunteers described – Their military ardour – The author inoculated therewith – He grows cooler – The Church – The Faculty – The Law – Objections to each – Colonel Barrington removes his establishment to the Irish capital – A country gentleman taking up a city residence.
My veering opinion as to a choice of profession was nearly decided by that military ardour which seized all Ireland, when the whole country had entered into a resolution to free itself for ever from English domination. The entire kingdom took up arms – regiments were formed in every quarter – the highest, the lowest, and the middle orders, all entered the ranks of freedom, and every corporation, whether civil or military, pledged life and fortune to attain and establish Irish independence, but with the same constitution, and under the same king as England, inseparably and for ever united. England tried to evade, as she could not resist this; but in 1782 Ireland was pronounced a free and independent nation.
My father had raised and commanded two corps – a dragoon troop called the Cullenagh Rangers, and the Ballyroan Light Infantry. My elder brother commanded the Kilkenny Horse, and the Durrow Light Dragoons. The general enthusiasm caught me; and before I well knew what I was about, I found myself a martinet and a red-hot patriot. Having been a university man, I was also considered to be of course a writer, and was accordingly called on to draw up resolutions for volunteer regiments all over the county. This was my first attempt at political subjects; and a general declaration which I wrote being short enough and warm enough to be comprehended by all the parties, it was unanimously adopted – every man swearing, as he kissed the blade of his sword, that he would adhere to these resolutions to the last drop of his blood, which he would by no means spare, till we had finally achieved the independence of our country. We were very sincere, and really, I think, determined to perish, (if necessary) in the cause – at least, I am sure, I was.
The national point was gained, but not without much difficulty and danger. The Irish parliament had refused to grant supplies to the crown or pass a mutiny bill for more than six months. The people had entered into resolutions to prevent the importation of any British merchandise or manufactures. The entire kingdom had disavowed all English authority or jurisdiction, external or internal; the judges and magistrates had declined to act under British statutes: – the flame had spread rapidly, and had become irresistible.
The British Government saw that either temporising or an appeal to force would occasion the final loss of Ireland: 150,000 independent soldiers, well armed, well clothed, and well disciplined, were not to be coped with, – and England yielded.24 Thus the volunteers kept their oaths: they redeemed their pledge, and did not lay down their arms until the independence of Ireland had been pronounced from the throne, and the distinctness of the Irish nation promulgated in the government gazette of London.
Having carried our point with the English, and proposed to prove our independence by going to war with Portugal about our linens, we completely set up for ourselves, except that Ireland was bound, as I before said, constitutionally and irrevocably, never to have any king but the King of Great Britain – whether de jure or de facto, however, was not specified.
We were now, in fact, regularly in a fighting mood; and being quite in good humour with England, determined to fight the French, who had threatened to invade us. I recollect a volunteer belonging to one of my father’s corps, (a schoolmaster of the name of Beal,) proposing a resolution to the Ballyroan Infantry, which purported, “that they would never stop fighting the French till they had flogged every sowl of them into mincemeat!” This magnanimous resolution was adopted with cheers, and was, as usual, sworn to, each hero kissing the muzzle of his musket. In truth, the whole nation being well prepared for blows; and disappointed, as a fellow-countryman gravely observed to me at the period, of fighting the English, were quite anxious to have a bout with the French: so long, indeed, as they could get a good meal of fighting, they were just then no great epicures as to who were served up.
I am not going any further into a history of those times, to which I have alluded only to show what, for the moment, excited my warlike ardour, and fixed my determination, although but temporarily, to adopt the military profession.
On communicating this decision to my father, he procured me, from a friend and neighbour, General Hunt Walsh, a commission in that officer’s own regiment, the 30th. The style of the thing pleased me very well: – but, upon being informed that I should immediately join the regiment, in America, my heroic tendencies received a serious check. I had not contemplated transatlantic emigration; and feeling that I could get my head broken just as well in my own country, I, after a few days’ mature consideration, perceived my military ardour grow cooler and cooler every hour – until, at length, it was obviously defunct. I therefore wrote to the General a most thankful letter, at the same time “begging the favour of him to present my commission in his regiment to some hardier soldier, who could serve his majesty with more vigour; as I, having been brought up by my grandmother, felt as yet too tender to be any way effective on foreign service – though I had no objection to fight as much as possible in Ireland, if necessary.” General Walsh accepted my resignation, and presented my commission to a young friend of his, (an only son) whose brains were blown out in the very first engagement.
Having thus rejected the army, I next turned my thoughts to that very opposite profession – the church. But though preaching was certainly a much safer and more agreeable employment than bush-fighting, yet a curacy and a wooden leg being pretty much on a parallel in point of remuneration, and as I had the strongest objection to be either dismembered or half starved, in the service of the king or the altar, I also declined the cassock, assuring my father that “I felt I was not steady enough to make an ‘exemplary parson;’ and as any other kind of parson generally did more harm than good in a country, I could not, in conscience, take charge of the morals of a flock of men, women, and children, when I should have quite enough to do to manage my own; and should therefore leave the church to some more orthodox graduate.”
Medicine was next in the list of professions to which I had, abstractedly, some liking. I had attended several courses of anatomical lectures at Dublin; and although with very repugnant feelings had studied that most sublime of all sciences, human organization, by a persevering attention to the celebrated wax-works of that university. Yet my horror and disgust of animal putridity in all its branches was so great, (inclusive even of stinking venison, which most people admire,) that all surgical practice by me was necessarily out of the question; and medicine, without a touch of surgery, presenting no better chance of making a fortune, shared a similar fate with the sword and the pulpit.
Of the liberal and learned professions, there remained but one, namely, the law. Now, as to this, I was told by several old practitioners, who had retired into the country, (as I afterward found, from having no business to do in town,) that if I were even as wise as Alfred, as learned as Lycurgus, or as vociferous as Serjeant Toler, – nobody would give me sixpence for all my law (if I had a hundred weight of it), until I had spent at least ten years in watching the manufacture. However, they consoled me by saying, that if I could put up with light eating during that period, I might then have a very reasonable chance of getting some briefs, particularly after inviting a gang of attorneys to dine with me. – Here I was damped again! and though I should have broken my heart if condemned to remain much longer a walking gentleman, I determined to wait awhile, and see if nature would open my propensities a little wider, and give me some more decisive indication of what she thought me fittest for.
While in this comfortless state of indecision, my father, like other country gentlemen, to gratify his lady under the amiable pretence of educating the children, gave his consent to be launched into the new scenes and pleasures of a city residence. He accordingly purchased an excellent house in Clare-street, Merrion-square; left a steward in the country to mismanage his concerns there; made up new wardrobes for the servants; got a fierce three-cocked hat, with a gold button and loop to it, for himself; and removed his establishment (the hounds excepted) to the metropolis of Ireland.
Here my good and well-bred mother (for such she was) had her Galway pride revived and gratified; the old green coach de cérémonie was regilt and regarnished, and four black geldings, with two postilions and a sixteen-stone footman (in white, scarlet, and laced liveries) completed her equipage.
I had my bit of blood in the stable; my elder brother, who had been in the First Horse, had plenty of them: – my father had his old hunter “brown Jack;” and we set out at what is commonly called a great rate– but which great rates are generally, like a fox-chase, more hot than durable. However, the thing went on well enough; and during our city residence many pleasurable and many whimsical incidents occurred to me and other individuals of my family; one of which was most interesting to myself, and will form a leading feature in my subsequent Sketches.
Before adverting to this, however, I will mention a lamentable event which occurred during our stay in Clare-street, to a neighbour of ours, Captain O’Flaherty, brother to Sir John, whom I shall hereafter notice. The captain resided nearly facing us; and though the event I speak of, and the very extraordinary incident which succeeded it, are clearly digressions, yet the whole story is so singular, that I will, without further apology, introduce it.
MURDER OF CAPTAIN O’FLAHERTY
Murder of Captain O’Flaherty by Mr. Lanegan, his sons’ tutor, and Mrs. O’Flaherty – The latter, after betraying her accomplice, escapes – Trial of Lanegan – He is hanged and quartered at Dublin – Terrific appearance of his supposed ghost to his pupil, David Lauder, and the author, at the Temple, in London – Lauder nearly dies of fright – Lanegan’s extraordinary escape; not even suspected in Ireland – He gets off to France, and enters the Monastery of La Trappe – All-Hallow Eve – A church-yard anecdote – My own superstition nearly fatal to me.
Captain O’Flaherty, a most respectable gentleman, resided in Clare-street, Dublin, opposite my father’s house. He had employed a person of the name of Lanegan, as tutor to the late John Burke O’Flaherty, and his other sons. But after some little time Lanegan became more attentive to Mrs. O’Flaherty, the mother, than to her boys.
This woman had certainly no charms either of appearance or address, which might be thought calculated to captivate any one; and there was a something indescribably repulsive in her general manners, in consequence whereof all acquaintance between her and our family soon terminated. She was not satisfied with the occasional society of Mr. Lanegan, whilst he continued in the house as tutor, but actually proceeded to form a criminal intercourse with him; and, in order to free herself from all restraint, meditated the very blackest of human crimes, which she determined to perpetrate by giving the unfortunate captain a rice-pudding for his dinner, by virtue whereof she might at any rate be saved the trouble of ever making another for him.
Mr. Lanegan was with this view sent by her to several apothecaries’ shops; at each of which, to avoid suspicion, he asked for a very little stuff to kill the rats; and thus, by small portions, they ultimately procured a sufficient quantity to kill not only the rats, but the husband into the bargain.
The murderous scheme was carried into execution by Mrs. O’Flaherty herself, and the captain was found dead in his bed! Some misgivings, however, were generated from the appearance of the body, which swelled and exhibited black spots: and these, with other unequivocal signs, conspired to prove that the rats (for they were actually dealt with) had not been the only sufferers. The Coroner’s Inquest, indeed, soon decided the matter, by a verdict of “Poisoned by Arsenic.”
Mrs. O’Flaherty and Mr. Lanegan began now to suspect that they were in rather a ticklish situation, and determined to take a private journey into the country until they should discover how things were likely to go. The adulterous wife, full of crime and terror, conceived a suspicion that Lanegan, who had only purchased the poison by her directions, and had not administered it (except to the rats), might turn king’s evidence, get the reward, and save himself by convicting her. Such a catastrophe she therefore determined, if possible, to prevent.
On their journey she told him that, upon full consideration, she conceived there could be no possibility of bringing conclusive evidence against them, inasmuch as it would appear most probable that the captain had, by accident, taken the poison himself – and that she was determined to surrender and take her trial as soon as possible, recommending Mr. Lanegan to do the same. In pursuance of this decision, as they passed near the town of Gowran, County Kilkenny, she said, “There is the gate of a magistrate: do you go up first, put on a bold face, assure him of your entire innocence, and say that, as infamous and false reports have been spread, both of yourself and me, you came expressly to surrender and take your trial; – for that you could not live in society under such vile imputations! Say, also, that you hear Mrs. O’Flaherty intends likewise to surrender herself in the evening, and request that he will be at home to receive her.”
Lanegan, suspecting no fraud, followed these instructions literally; – he was secured, though without roughness, and preparations were made for his being taken to Dublin next day in custody. The magistrate waited for Mrs. O’Flaherty, but she did not appear: he sent down to his gate-house to know if any lady had passed by: the porter informed him that a lady and gentleman had been near the gate in a carriage, in the morning, and that the gentleman got out and went up the avenue to the house, after which the lady had driven away.
It now appearing that they had been actually together, and that Lanegan had been telling falsehoods respecting his companion, strong suspicions arose in the mind of the magistrate. His prisoner was confined more closely, sent under a strong guard to Dublin, indicted for murder, and tried at the ensuing commission.
Positive evidence was given of Lanegan’s criminal connexion with Mrs. O’Flaherty, coupled with the strongest circumstantial proof against him. He had not the courage boldly to deny the fact, and being found guilty, was sentenced to be hanged and quartered; the former part of which sentence having been carried into execution, his body, after a cut on each limb, was delivered to his mother for burial. – Mrs. O’Flaherty escaped beyond sea, and has, I believe, never since been heard of in the country.
Such is the history which forms the prelude to an occurrence some time afterward in which I was a party, and which may be regarded as a curious illustration of stories of supposed ghosts.
A templar and a friend of mine, Mr. David Lauder, a soft, fat, good-humoured, superstitious young fellow, was sitting in his lodgings, (Devereux-court, London,) one evening at twilight. I was with him, and we were agreeably employed in eating strawberries and drinking Madeira. While chatting away in cheerful mood, and laughing loudly at some remark made by one of us, my back being toward the door, I perceived my friend’s colour suddenly change – his eyes seemed fixed and ready to start out of his head – his lips quivered convulsively – his teeth chattered – large drops of perspiration flowed down his forehead, and his hair stood nearly erect.
As I saw nothing calculated to excite these emotions, I naturally conceived my friend was seized with a fit, and rose to assist him. He did not regard my movements in the least, but seizing a knife which lay on the table, with the gait of a palsied man retreated backward – his eyes still fixed – to a distant part of the room, where he stood shivering, and attempting to pray; but not at the moment recollecting any prayer, he began to repeat his catechism, thinking it the next best thing he could do: as – “What is your name? David Lauder! Who gave you that name? My godfathers and godmothers in my baptism!” &c. &c.
I instantly concluded the man was mad; and turning about to go for some assistance, was myself not a little startled at sight of a tall, rough-looking personage, many days unshaved, in a very shabby black dress, and altogether of the most uncouth appearance. The stranger and I stood for a moment opposite each other, staring and motionless: at length he broke silence, and addressing my friend, said, in a low croaking voice, “Don’t be frightened, Mr. Lauder; sure ’tis me that’s here.”
