Читать книгу: «Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 1 (of 3)», страница 11

This baronet having been one of the Irish Parliamentary curiosities before the Union, I have only exemplified his mode of blundering, as many ridiculous sayings have been attributed to him. He blundered certainly more than any public speaker in Ireland; but his bulls were rather logical perversions, and had some strong point in most of them.

The English people consider a bull as nothing more than a vulgar nonsensical expression: but Irish blunders are frequently humorous hyperboles or oxymorons,³⁹ and present very often the most energetic mode of expressing the speaker’s meaning.

On the motion to expel Lord Edward Fitzgerald from the House of Commons, for hasty disrespectful expressions regarding the House and the Lord Lieutenant, it was observable that the motion was violently supported by the younger men then in Parliament; including the late Marquess of Ormonde, &c. The marquess was, indeed, one of the strongest supporters of a measure, the object of which was to disgrace a young nobleman, his own equal: and it was likewise worthy of remark that the motion was resisted by the steadiest and oldest members of the House, and by them finally rejected.

Sir Boyle Roche laboured hard and successfully for Lord Edward, who was eventually required to make an apology: it was not, however, considered sufficiently ample or repentant. Sir Boyle was at his wits’ end, and at length produced a natural syllogism, which, by putting the House in good-humour, did more than a host of reasoners could have achieved. “Mr. Speaker,” said the baronet, “I think the noble young man has no business to make any apology. – He is a gentleman, and none such should be asked to make an apology, because no gentleman could mean to give offence!”

Dennis M‘Carthy, the postilion of Lord Lisle, had an action for crim. con. brought against him by his master, and upon a very forced construction of law in such cases, by the chief baron, the jury found damages for 5000l. against Dennis. – He was of course sent to gaol; and damages to that amount and of that nature excluding the debtor from the benefit of the Insolvent Act, strong efforts were made in Parliament to have Dennis included especially, by name, in the statute, he having remained ten years in close confinement. His liberation was constantly applied for, and as constantly rejected. Sir Boyle, as a last effort, made a florid speech in his best style on behalf of the poor fellow, arguing truly, “that Lady Lisle, and not Dennis, must have been the real seducer;” and concluding thus: – “And what, Mr. Speaker, was this poor servant’s crime? After all, sure, Mr. Speaker, it was only doing his master’s business by his mistress’s orders! and is it not very hard to keep a poor servant in gaol for that which if he had not done he would have deserved a horsewhipping?” This way of putting the case had the desired effect: – Dennis’s name was especially included by the Commons; but in the House of Lords it was thrown out by Lord Clonmell, chief justice, though two years had scarcely elapsed since his lordship himself had fought a duel with the late Lord Tyrawley for crim. con. with her ladyship.

Never was there a more sensible blunder than the following. We recommend it as a motto to gentlemen in the army. “The best way,” said Sir Boyle, “to avoid danger, is to meet it plump!”

Lord Townsend, when he went over as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, was greatly amused on entering the beautiful bay of Dublin. There are two great and dangerous sand-banks to be encountered on entering the harbour, with a small village close to them on the shore.

“What bank is that?” asked Lord Townsend.

“That’s the North Bull,” said the captain.

“And pray, what’s that other bank?” inquired the Lord Lieutenant.

“That’s the South Bull, my lord,” answered the pilot.

“And what’s the name of that little village?”

“That’s Ring’s-End, your Excellency,” said the mate.

“What!” exclaimed Lord Townsend; “two bulls and one impossibility is quite enough for one harbour! I think, if the parliament is like the port, I shall not find it easy to compose an answer to its address.”

ENTRANCE INTO OFFICE

The author first placed in office by Lord Westmoreland – Made king’s counsel by Lord Clare – Jealousy of the bar – Description of Kilkenny Castle – Trial of the Earl of Ormonde for outrage at Kilkenny – Acquitted – Author’s conduct – Distinguished and liberal present from the Earl of Ormonde to the author, of a gold box, and his subsequent letter.

In December, 1793, the secretary, Lord Buckinghamshire, wrote to say that he wished to see me at the Castle. I immediately attended, when he said, “Barrington, I am about to depart from Ireland: and,” continued he, after my sincere expressions of regret, “as you have heretofore had nothing from us but convivial intercourse, it is just you should now have fare somewhat more substantial; with the approbation of the Lord Lieutenant, therefore, I have managed to secure for you a very handsome office, – the ships’ entries of the port of Dublin.”

At the name and nature of this office I rather demurred; whereupon Lord Buckinghamshire smiled, and said, “You have no objection to a good sinecure, I suppose, the emoluments payable every Sunday morning by the deputy: the place was lately held by Mr. George Ponsonby, and is at this moment enjoyed by Serjeant Coppinger; but I have negotiated to give him, his son, and his wife, an annuity of £800 a year, to resign it to you: we were bound to provide for him as an old servant of thirty years, and this is a convenient opportunity for doing so!”

This, so far, was agreeable: but still, professional advancement being the object next my heart, I neither felt nor looked totally satisfied.

Lord Buckinghamshire then said, “You are a grumbling fellow: but I anticipated your grumbling, and the Lord Chancellor (Lord Clare) has consented to your being at the same time appointed one of the king’s counsel; – thus at once giving you a step over the heads of all your circuit seniors, except Sir Frederick Flood, who is not, I fancy, very formidable.”

This arrangement altogether met my wishes. I hastened to Lords Westmoreland and Clare, to thank them most cordially; and the fifth year after becoming a barrister, I found myself at the head of my circuit, and high up in the official rank of my profession. Practice generally follows the fortunate: I was immediately considered as on the high-road of preferment; the attorneys pursued me like a flock of rooks! and my business was quadrupled.

I purchased a fine house in Merrion Square, from Mr. Robert Johnson, then counsel to the revenue, (afterward judge,) who at that period felt himself going down hill; and here I launched into an absolute press of business; perhaps justly acquiring thereby the jealousy of many of my seniors. This jealousy, however, gave rise to one of the most gratifying incidents of my life.

John, Earl of Ormonde, resided, like a true Irish nobleman, in the utmost splendour and hospitality, in his fine ancient castle at Kilkenny. He scarcely ever went even to the Irish metropolis – his entire fortune being expended in his own city; whereby every shopkeeper and trader experienced the advantages of his lordship’s residence. His establishment was ample – his table profuse – his friendship warm and unbounded. The very appearance of his castle (though only a portion of the old duke’s) was still such as to remind the spectator of its former magnificence. Proudly towering over the river Nore, from which it was separated only by the public walk, a high and grand rampart on that side conveyed the idea at once of a palace and a fortress; whilst towards the city an old princely portal, flanked by round towers, opened into a spacious court, within which were preserved two sides of the original edifice, and a third was, at the period I allude to, rebuilding, in a style, however, far too modern and ordinary. The exterior mouldings of the castle exhibited the remains of the gilding which had formerly been laid on with a lavish hand.

The interior of this noble edifice, with the exception of one saloon and the picture-gallery, was not calculated to satisfy expectation: but both those were unique – the one with respect to its form, the other to its prospects. The grand saloon was not shaped like any other, I believe, existing – oval in its figure, and not large; – but the wall, twelve feet thick, admitted of recesses on the sides, which had the appearance of small rooms, each being terminated by a large window, and its sides covered with mirrors which reflected the beautiful and varied prospects of city, country, wood, river, and public promenade. When I was at the castle, in fact, every thing appeared to me delightful.

Walter, the late Marquess of Ormonde, though my junior in years, had been my intimate friend and companion; as was also his cousin, Bryan Cavanagh. We lived together at Temple, and Lord Ormonde was then the finest young man I ever saw. He had quite a cross private tutor (Rankin), who was with his lordship at Oxford, and then came to reside at Lincoln’s Inn with his cousin Bryan, till his father had provided for him – an interval of nearly a year.

Lady Ormonde, mother of Walter, was the only child of Earl Winderford, and, as lady of the castle, was careful to keep up her due importance. It is not impossible for women or men either to mistake form for dignity. True pride is accompanied by an amiable condescension: mere ceremony is the result of false pride, and not of dignity. I thought (perhaps erroneously) that her ladyship made this mistake.

The Earl John, my friend’s father, was rather in the opposite extreme. He was well read and friendly; indeed, a truer friend or more honourable person could not exist: yet he was a hard-goer (as it was called), and an incessant talker. His lordship occasionally adjourned to a kind of tavern in the city, of which a certain widow Madden was the hostess, and where one Mr. Evans, surnamed “Hell-cat,” together with the best boozers and other gentlemen of Kilkenny, assembled to amuse his lordship by their jests and warm punch, and to emulate each other in the devouring oysters and lobsters – the best which could possibly be procured. Hither, in fact, the company from the castle often repaired for amusement.

These boozing-matches sometimes proceeded rather too far; and, one night, Mr. Duffy, a sharp, smart, independent-minded apothecary of Kilkenny, who had offended the Ormonde family on some very sensitive point, being alluded to, a member of the party, with more zeal than prudence, proposed as a toast, “a round of rascals!” taking care to designate Doctor Duffy as belonging to that honourable fraternity. On departing from the tavern, far more full of liquor than wit, some wild young man in company suggested the demolition of the doctor’s windows: no sooner said than done! – the piper played, the stones flew, and Duffy’s shivered panes bore ample testimony to the strength of the widow’s beverage. No personal injury however ensued, and the affair appeared to have terminated.

A glazier was sent early next morning by command of my lord to repair the windows; but this the doctor refused to allow; and in due form applied for and obtained a criminal information in the King’s Bench for the outrage, against Lord Ormonde, his son Walter, James the present Marquess, Lord Thurles, and others. The information was, in due legal form, sent down to be tried at the spring assizes very soon after I had been appointed king’s counsel.

None felt more jealousy at my promotion than Mr. William Fletcher, (since judge of the Common Pleas,) many years my senior at the bar and on circuit. Lord Ormonde directed briefs to be sent to me and to Fletcher, with fees of fifteen guineas each. I never loved money much in my life, and therefore thought it quite enough; or rather, I did not think about it.

The defendant’s case fell of course to me as leading counsel. At this circumstance Fletcher felt sore, and ran sulky; and the sulkier he got the more zealous became I. We had but a bad case of it: the cross-examination of the irritated apothecary, who grew after awhile quite ferocious, fell to my lot. I performed my duty, and it then devolved on Fletcher to speak to the evidence. This however he declined to do. I pressed him; but he peremptorily refused. I exclaimed – “Nay, Fletcher, you took a fee: why not speak?” – “Yes,” answered the angry barrister, “just enough to make me hold my tongue!” – “Do speak,” persisted I. “I won’t,” replied he. “Then I must do it for you,” was my rejoinder. My zeal was enkindled, and I felt myself in earnest and interested. I persevered till I saw the jury smile, to do which, they only wanted a good pretence. I held on my course till I saw them pleased; and the result was an acquittal of Lord Ormonde, and a conviction of all the others.

To his lordship this acquittal was invaluable. The conviction of the Earl of Ormonde for a nocturnal outrage in his own town, would have been to him a source of the utmost dismay. I knew this, and acted accordingly. He had heard of the conversation between Fletcher and me; but he thanked both without distinction, and made no partial remarks. I was hurt for a moment at this apparent neglect, but thought of it no longer, and his lordship never mentioned the circumstance.

On the ensuing summer assizes Lord Ormonde invited the judges, barristers, several of the grand-jury, and the principal gentlemen of the county, to a magnificent dinner at the castle. It was a long table, and every thing in the grandest style. A judge sat on each side of Lady Ormonde at the head, and Fletcher and myself were their next neighbours. After the cloth was removed, and Lady Ormonde had retired, his lordship stood up, and, in a loud voice, said, – “I have waited with impatience for this public opportunity of expressing to Mr. Barrington the high sense I entertain of his important and disinterested services to me at the last assizes: I now beg his acceptance of a small testimonial of my gratitude and friendship.” – And he immediately slid along the table a magnificent gold snuff-box, with his arms, &c. and the following inscription: —

A Token of Friendship and Gratitude from the Earl of Ormonde and Ossory to Jonah Barrington, Esq., one of His Majesty’s Counsel at Law. August, 1794.

I was utterly astonished by this distinguished and most unexpected favour conferred in so public and honourable a manner; and involuntarily, without a moment’s thought, (but certainly with the appearance of ill-nature,) I triumphantly handed round the box for the inspection of my brother-barristers. Fletcher, confused as might be supposed, slightly shoved it back to me: – his conduct on the trial having been known, a sensation became visible amongst the company, which I would almost have given up the box to have avoided exciting. His countenance, however, though not usually subject to be much impressed by kind feelings, clearly acquitted me of any intentional insult: in truth, I really felt as much as he did when I perceived my error, and wished to pocket the prize without its creating further notice. But this was impossible: I was obliged to return thanks, which ceremony I went through very badly. Fletcher did not remain long, and I also adjourned at an early hour to the bar-room, where the incident had preceded me. I now tried my best to put all parties into good humour, and finished the night by a much deeper stoup of wine than I should have indulged in at Lord Ormonde’s.

Next morning I found a billet from the earl, enveloping a bank-note for 100l., with these words: —

“Dear Sir,

“My attorney did not do you justice; you will permit me to be my own attorney on this occasion.

“Your friend and humble servant,

“Ormonde and Ossory.”

From that time to the day of his lordship’s death, I experienced from him, on every occasion within his reach, the utmost extent of kindness, civility, and friendship. His successor, with whom I had been so long and so very intimately acquainted, was whirled at an early age into the vortex of fashionable life and dissipation. Having lost his best guide and truest friend, his cousin Bryan Cavanagh, many of his naturally fine qualities were absorbed in the licentious influence of a fashionable female connexion; and thus became lost to himself and to many of those friends who had most truly valued him.

I have mentioned Walter, Marquess of Ormonde, the more particularly, because, extraordinary as it may appear, it certainly was to that fatal connexion of his (where I am sure he had not been the seducer) that I owe several of the most painful and injurious events of my life. Of the existence of this connexion I had irrefragable proof; and of its having operated as a bar to the chief objects of his life and ambition, and of my own also, I have equal reason to feel convinced.

His lordship married his own god-daughter, a most amiable young lady; but too late: and never have I remarked, through the course of a long, observing life, any progress more complete from the natural levities of youth to confirmed habits of dissipation, from the first order of early talent to the humblest state of premature imbecility, than that of the late Marquess of Ormonde, who had, at one period of our intimacy, as engaging a person, as many noble, manly qualities, and to the full as much intellectual promise, as any young man of his country.

DR. ACHMET BORUMBORAD

Singular anecdotes of Dr. Achmet Borumborad – He proposes to erect baths in Dublin, in the Turkish fashion – Obtains grants from Parliament for that purpose – The baths well executed – The Doctor’s banquet – Ludicrous anecdote of nineteen noblemen and members of Parliament falling into his grand salt-water bath – The accident nearly causes the ruin of the Doctor and his establishment – He falls in love with Miss Hartigan, and marries her – Sudden metamorphosis of the Turk into Mr. Patrick Joyce.

Until England dragged the sister kingdom with herself into the ruinous expenses of the American war, Ireland owed no public debt. – There were no taxes, save local ones: the Parliament, being composed of resident gentlemen, interested in the prosperity and welfare of their country, was profuse in promoting all useful schemes; and no projector, who could show any reasonable grounds for seeking assistance, had difficulty in finding a patron. On these points, indeed, the gentlemen who possessed influence, were often unguarded, and sometimes extravagant; – but the people lost nothing, since all was expended amongst themselves.

Among other projectors, whose ingenuity was excited by this liberal conduct, was one of a very singular description – a Turk who had come over, or (as the on-dit went) had fled from Constantinople. He proposed to establish, what was greatly wanted at that time in the Irish metropolis, “Hot and Cold Sea-water Baths;” and by way of advancing his pretensions to public encouragement, offered to open free baths for the poor, on an extensive plan – giving them, as a doctor, attendance and advice gratis, every day in the year. He spoke English very intelligibly; his person was extremely remarkable; and the more so, as he was the first Turk who had ever walked the streets of Dublin in his native costume. He was in height considerably above six feet, rather pompous in his gait, and apparently powerful; an immense black beard covering his chin and upper lip. There was, at the same time, something cheerful and cordial in the man’s address; and, altogether, he cut a very imposing figure. Every body liked Doctor Achmet Borumborad: his Turkish dress, being extremely handsome, without any approach to the tawdry, and crowned with an immense turban, drew the eyes of every passer-by; and I must say that I have never myself seen a more stately-looking Turk since that period.

The eccentricity of the Doctor’s appearance was, indeed, as will readily be imagined, the occasion of much idle observation and conjecture. At first, whenever he went abroad, a crowd of people, chiefly boys, was sure to attend him – but at a respectful distance; and if he turned to look behind him, the gaping boobies fled, as if they conceived even his looks to be mortal. These fears, however, gradually wore away, and were entirely shaken off, on the fact being made public, that he meant to attend the poor; which undertaking was, in the usual spirit of exaggeration, soon construed into an engagement, on the part of the Doctor, to cure all disorders whatever! and hence he quickly became as much admired and respected as he had previously been dreaded.

My fair readers will perhaps smile, when I assure them that the persons who seemed to have the least apprehension of Doctor Borumborad, or rather to think him “a very nice Turk!” were the ladies of the metropolis. Many a smart, snug little husband, who had been heretofore considered “quite the thing,” – despotic in his own house, and peremptory commandant of his own family, was now regarded as a wretched, contemptible, close-shaven pigmy, in comparison with the immensity of the Doctor’s figure and whiskers; and, what is more extraordinary, his good-humour and engaging manners gained him many friends even among the husbands themselves! he thus becoming, in a shorter period than could be imagined, a particular favourite with the entire city, male and female.

Doctor Achmet Borumborad, having obtained footing thus far, next succeeded surprisingly in making his way amongst the members of Parliament. He was full of conversation, yet knew his proper distance; pregnant with anecdote, but discreet in its expenditure; and he had the peculiar talent of being humble without the appearance of humility. A submissive Turk would have been out of character, and a haughty one excluded from society: the Doctor was aware of this, and regulated his demeanour with remarkable skill upon all occasions (and they were numerous) whereon (as a lion) he was invited to the tables of the great. By this line of conduct, he managed to warm those who patronised him into becoming violent partisans; and accordingly little or no difficulty was experienced in getting a grant from Parliament for a sufficient fund to commence his great metropolitan undertaking.

Baths were now planned after Turkish models. The money voted was most faithfully appropriated; and a more ingenious or useful establishment could not be formed in any metropolis. But the cash, it was discovered, ran too short to enable the Doctor to complete his scheme; and, on the ensuing session, a further vote became necessary, which was by no means opposed, as the institution was good, fairly executed, and charitably applied. The worthy Doctor kept his ground: session after session he petitioned for fresh assistance, and never met with refusal: his profits were good, and he lived well; whilst the baths proved of the utmost benefit, and the poor received attention and service from his establishment, without cost. An immense cold-bath was constructed, to communicate with the river: it was large and deep, and entirely renewed every tide. The neatest lodging rooms, for those patients who chose to remain during a course of bathing, were added to the establishment, and always occupied. In short, the whole affair became so popular, and Dr. Achmet acquired so many friends, that the annual grants of Parliament were considered nearly as matters of course.

But, alas! fortune is treacherous, and prosperity unstable. Whilst the ingenious Borumborad was thus rapidly flourishing, an unlucky though most ludicrous incident threw the poor fellow completely a-back; and, without any fault on his part, nearly ruined both himself and his institution.

Preparatory to every session it was the Doctor’s invariable custom to give a grand dinner, at the baths, to a large number of his patrons, members of Parliament, who were in the habit of proposing and supporting his grants. He always, on these occasions, procured some professional singers, as well as the finest wines in Ireland – endeavouring to render the parties as joyous and convivial as possible. Some nobleman, or commoner of note, always acted for him as chairman, the Doctor himself being quite unassuming.

At the last commencement of a session, whereupon he anticipated this patronage, it was intended to increase his grant, in order to meet the expenses of certain new works, &c. which he had executed on the strength of the ensuing supply; and the Doctor had invited nearly thirty of the leading members to a grand dinner in his spacious saloon. The singers were of the first order; the claret and champaign excellent; and never was the Turk’s hospitality shown off to better advantage, or the appetites of his guests administered to with greater success. The effects of the wine, as usual on all such meetings in Ireland, began to grow obvious. The elder and more discreet members were for adjourning; whilst the juveniles declared they would stay for another dozen! and Doctor Borumborad accordingly went down himself to his cellar, to select and send up a choice dozen by way of bonne bouche for finishing the refractory members of Parliament.

In his absence, Sir John S. Hamilton, though a very dry member, took it into his head that he had taken enough, and rose to go away, as is customary in these days of freedom when people are so circumstanced: but at that period men were not always their own masters on such occasions, and a general cry arose of – “Stop, Sir John! – stop him! – the bonne bouche! – the bonne bouche!” – The carousers were on the alert instantly: Sir John opened the door and rushed out; the ante-chamber was not lighted; some one or two-and-twenty stanch members stuck to his skirts; when splash at once comes Sir John, not into the street, but into the great cold-bath, the door of which he had retreated by, in mistake! The other Parliament-men were too close upon the baronet to stop short (like the horse of a Cossack): in they went, by fours and fives; and one or two, who, on hearing the splashing of the water, cunningly threw themselves down on the brink to avoid popping in, operated directly as stumbling-blocks to those behind, who thus obtained their full share of a bonne bouche none of the parties had bargained for.

When Doctor Borumborad re-entered, ushering a couple of servants laden with a dozen of his best wine, and missed all his company, he thought some devil had carried them off; but perceiving the door of his noble, deep, cold-bath open, he with dismay rushed thither, and espied a full committee of Irish Parliament-men either floating like so many corks upon the surface, or scrambling to get out like mice who had fallen into a bason! The Doctor’s posse of attendants were immediately set at work, and every one of the honourable members extricated: the quantity of Liffey-water, however, which had made its way into their stomachs, was not so easily removed, and most of them carried the beverage home to their own bed-chambers.

It was unlucky, also, that as the Doctor was a Turk, he had no Christian wardrobe to substitute for the well-soaked garments of the honourable members. Such dresses, however, as he had, were speedily put into requisition; the bathing attendants furnished their quota of dry apparel; and all was speedily distributed amongst the swimmers, some of whom exhibited in Turkish costume, others in bathing-shifts; and when the clothes failed, blankets were pinned around the rest. Large fires were made in every room; brandy and mulled wine liberally resorted to; and as fast as sedan-chairs could be procured, the Irish Commoners were sent home, cursing all Turks and infidels, and denouncing a crusade against any thing coming from the same quarter of the globe as Constantinople.

Poor Doctor Achmet Borumborad was distracted and quite inconsolable! Next day he duly visited every suffering member, and though well received, was acute enough to see that the ridicule with which they had covered themselves was likely to work out eventually his ruin. His anticipations were well-founded: though the members sought to hush up the ridiculous parts of the story, they became, from that very attempt, still more celebrated. In fact, it was too good a joke to escape the embellishments of Irish humour; and the statement universally circulated was – that “Doctor Borumborad had nearly drowned nineteen members of Parliament, because they would not promise to vote for him!”

The poor doctor was now assailed in every way. Among other things, it was asserted that he was the Turk who had strangled the Christians in the Seven Towers at Constantinople! – Though every body laughed at their own inventions, they believed those of other people; and the conclusion was, that no more grants could be proposed, since not a single member was stout enough to mention the name of Borumborad! The laugh, indeed, would have overwhelmed the best speech ever delivered in the Irish Parliament.

Still the new works must be paid for, although no convenient vote came to make the necessary provision: the poor doctor was therefore cramped a little; but notwithstanding his embarrassment, he kept his ground well, and lost no private friends, except such as the wearing-off of novelty estranged. He continued to get on; and at length a new circumstance intervened to restore his happiness, in a way as little to be anticipated by the reader as was his previous discomfiture.

Love had actually seized upon the Turk above two years before the accident we have been recording. A respectable surgeon of Dublin, of the name of Hartigan, had what might be termed a very “neat” sister; and this lady had made a lasting impression on the heart of Borumborad, who had no reason to complain of his suit being treated with disdain, or even indifference. On the contrary, Miss H. liked the doctor vastly! and praised the Turks in general, both for their dashing spirit and their beautiful whiskers. It was not, however, consistent either with her own or her brother’s Christianity to submit to the doctor’s tremendous beard, or think of matrimony; till “he had shaved the chin at least, and got a parson to turn him into a Christian, or something of that kind.” Upon those terms only would she surrender her charms and her money – for some she had – to Doctor Achmet Borumborad, however amiable.