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The doctor’s courtship with the members of Parliament having now terminated, so far at any rate as further grants were concerned, and a grant of a much more tender nature being now within his reach, he began seriously to consider if he should not at once capitulate to Miss H., and exchange his beard and his Alcoran for a razor and the New Testament. After weighing matters deliberately, love prevailed; and he intimated by letter, in the proper vehemence of Asiatic passion, his determination to turn Christian, discard his beard, and, throwing himself at the feet of his beloved, vow eternal fidelity to her in the holy bands of matrimony. He concluded by requesting an interview in the presence of the young lady’s confidant, a Miss Owen, who resided next door. His request was granted, and he repeated his proposal, which was duly accepted, Miss Hartigan stipulating that he should never see her again until the double promise in his letter was fully redeemed; upon which he might mention his own day for the ceremony. The doctor having engaged to comply, took leave: – for the last time he stroked his glossy beard, and departed with a look so sensitive and tender, that both the intended bride and bridesmaid regarded the yielding Musselman with the fervor of an Asiatic constitution.

On the evening of the same day a gentleman was announced to the bride-elect, with a message from Doctor Achmet Borumborad. Her confidential neighbour was immediately summoned; the gentleman waiting meantime in a coach at the door. At length Miss Hartigan and her friend being ready to receive him, in walked a Christian gallant, in a suit of full-dress black, and a very tall, fine-looking Christian he was! Miss H. was surprised; she did not recognise her lover, particularly as she thought it impossible he could have been made a Christian before the ensuing Sunday! He immediately, however, fell on his knees, seized and kissed her lily hand, and on her beginning to expostulate, cried out at once, “Don’t be angry, my dear creature! to tell the honest truth, I am as good a Christian as the archbishop; I’m your own countryman, sure enough! – Mr. Patrick Joyce from Kilkenny county: – the devil a Turk any more than yourself, my sweet angel!” The ladies were astonished; but astonishment did not prevent Miss Hartigan from keeping her word, and Mr. and Mrs. Joyce became a very loving and happy couple.

The doctor’s great skill, however, was supposed to lie in his beard and faith; – consequently, on this dénouement, the baths declined. But the honest fellow had never done any discreditable or improper act; none indeed was ever laid to his charge: he fully performed every engagement with the Parliament whilst he retained the power to do so.

His beauty and portly appearance were considerably diminished by his change of garb. The long beard and picturesque dress had been half the battle; and he was, after his transformation, but a plain, rather coarse, but still brave-looking fellow. An old memorandum-book reminded me of these circumstances, as it noted a payment made to him by me on behalf of my elder brother, who had been lodging in the bath-house at the time of the swimming match.

I regret that I never inquired as to Joyce’s subsequent career, nor can I say whether he is or not still in the land of the living. This little story shows the facility with which public money was formerly voted, and, at the same time, the comparatively fortunate financial state of Ireland at that period, when the public purse could afford a multiplicity of such supplies without any tax or imposition whatsoever being laid upon the people to provide for them! How very different were the measures of that Parliament even ten years afterward!

The early life of Doctor Achmet Borumborad was obscure. All he mentioned himself was, that he left Ireland very young, in a merchant vessel, for Smyrna, where he lived with a high German doctor, who performed miraculous cures in that city. He affected to be a Turk, in order to get a better insight into the country and people. He appeared a man of much general information, and had studied the arts. Lord Charlemont had met him in Greece, and became his patron in Ireland. He was altogether a very well-conducted person; but being, as we have said, the first Turk (in appropriate costume) who had figured in Ireland, and glowing accounts of harems and seraglios having been previously read in the Arabian Nights; the doctor excited great curiosity, and not a little interest among the ladies. The old and rich Countess of Brandon fell desperately in love with his fine muscular person; but he never could be prevailed on to return her passion. She died of age some years before the Turk married Miss Hartigan.

ALDERMEN OF SKINNERS’ ALLEY

The institution of Orangemen – United Irishmen – Protestant ascendancy – Dr. Duigenan – Origin, progress, and customs of the aldermen of Skinners’ Alley described – Their revels – Orange toast, never before published – The aldermen throw Mr. M‘Mahon, an apothecary, out of a window for striking the bust of King William – New association – Anecdotes of Sir John Bourke and Sir Francis Gould – The Pope’s bull of absolution to Sir Francis – Its delivery suspended till he had taken away his landlady’s daughter – His death.

Orange societies, as they are termed, were first formed by the Protestants to oppose and counteract the turbulent demonstrations of the Catholics, who formed the population of the south of Ireland. But at their commencement, the Orangemen certainly adopted a principle of interference which was not confined to religious points alone, but went to put down all popular insurrections which might arise on any point. The term, Protestant ascendancy, was coined by Mr. John Gifford (of whom more hereafter), and became an epithet very fatal to the peace of Ireland. Many associations indeed were, from time to time, originated: some for reform, others to oppose it; some for toleration, others for intolerance! There were good men and loyal subjects among the members of each; including many who never entertained the most distant idea of those disastrous results to be apprehended, at the feverish period preceding the rebellion of 1798, from any encouragement to innovation.

I followed up the principles my family had invariably pursued from their first settlement in Ireland; namely, an attachment divided between the crown and the people. In the year 1795, I saw that the people were likely to grow too strong for the crown; and therefore became at once, not indeed an ultra– but one in whom loyalty absorbed almost every other consideration. I willingly united in every effort to check the rising spirit of popular disaffection – the dreadful results of which were manifested in the atrocities acting throughout France, and in the tottering state of the crowns of Europe.

I had been previously initiated by my friend, Doctor Duigenan, judge of the Prerogative Court, into a very curious but most loyal society, whereof he was grand-master at the time of my election; and as this club differed essentially from any other in the empire, it may be amusing to describe it – a labour which nobody has hitherto, I believe, undertaken.

This curious assemblage was called “The Aldermen of Skinners’ Alley:” it was the first Orange association ever formed; and having, at the period I allude to, existed a full century in pristine vigour, it had acquired considerable local influence and importance. Its origin was as follows: – After William the Third had mounted the English throne, and King James had assumed the reins of government in Ireland, the latter monarch annulled the then existing charter of the Dublin corporation, dismissed all the aldermen who had espoused the revolutionary cause, and replaced them by others attached to himself. In doing this he was certainly justifiable: – the deposed aldermen, however, had secreted some little articles of their paraphernalia, and privately assembled in an alehouse in Skinners’ Alley, a very obscure part of the capital: here they continued to hold Anti-Jacobite meetings; elected their own lord mayor and officers; and got a marble bust of King William, which they regarded as a sort of deity! These meetings were carried on till the battle of the Boyne put William in possession of Dublin, when King James’s aldermen were immediately cashiered, and the Aldermen of Skinners’ Alley reinvested with their mace and aldermanic glories.

To honour the memory of their restorer, therefore, a permanent association was formed, and invested with all the memorials of their former disgrace and latter reinstatement. This organization, constituted near a century before, remained, I fancy, quite unaltered at the time I became a member. To make the general influence of this association the greater, the number of members was unlimited, and the mode of admission solely by the proposal and seconding of tried aldermen. For the same reason, no class, however humble, was excluded – equality reigning in its most perfect state at the assemblies. Generals and wig-makers – king’s counsel and hackney clerks, &c. all mingled without distinction as brother-aldermen: – a lord mayor was annually appointed; and regularity and decorum always prevailed – until, at least, toward the conclusion of the meetings, when the aldermen became more than usually noisy and exhilarated, – King William’s bust being placed in the centre of the supper-table, to overlook their extreme loyalty. The times of meeting were monthly; and every member paid sixpence per month, which sum (allowing for the absentees) afforded plenty of eatables, porter and punch, for the supping aldermen.

Their charter-dish was sheeps’ trotters (in allusion to King James’s running away from Dublin): – rum-punch in blue jugs, whisky-punch in white ones, and porter in its pewter, were scattered plentifully over the table; and all regular formalities being gone through, the eating part of the ceremony ended, and numerous speeches made, the real business began by a general chorus of “God save the King!” whereupon the grand engine, which, as a loyal and facetious shoemaker observed, would bind every sole of them together, and commemorate them all till the end of time, was set at work by order of the lord mayor. This engine was the charter-toast, always given with nine times nine! and duly succeeded by vociferous acclamations.

The 1st of July (anniversary of the battle of the Boyne) was the chartered night of assembly: then every man unbuttoned the knees of his breeches, and drank the toast on his bare joints – it being pronounced by his lordship in the following words, composed expressly for the purpose in the year 1689; afterward adopted by the Orange societies generally; and still, I believe, considered as the charter-toast of them all.

This most ancient and unparalleled sentiment runs thus: —

ORANGE TOAST

“The glorious, pious, and immortal memory of the great and good King William! – not forgetting Oliver Cromwell, who assisted in redeeming us from popery, slavery, arbitrary power, brass-money, and wooden shoes! – May we never want a Williamite to kick the * * * * of a Jacobite! – and a * * * * for the Bishop of Cork! And he that won’t drink this, whether he be priest, bishop, deacon, bellows-blower, grave-digger, or any other of the fraternity of the clergy; – may a north wind blow him to the south, and a west wind blow him to the east! May he have a dark night – a lee-shore – a rank storm – and a leaky vessel, to carry him over the river Styx! May the dog Cerberus make a meal of his r – p, and Pluto a snuff-box of his skull! and may the devil jump down his throat with a red-hot harrow, with every pin tear out a gut, and blow him with a clean carcase to hell! Amen!”⁴⁰

The extraordinary zeal wherewith this toast was drank, could only be equalled by the enthusiasm with which the blue and white jugs and pewter pots were resorted to, to ascertain the quality of the potation within; both processes serving to indicate the quantity of loyalty entertained by every alderman toward the King, Doctor Duigenan, and the Protestant Religion! – they then rebuttoned the knees of their breeches (trousers had not come into fashion), and sat down to work again in downright earnest. Mr. Powell, a jolly apothecary, of Thomas-street, in my time, led the vocal band;⁴¹ and after a dozen speeches, accompanied by numerous replenishments of the jugs, &c. every body who had any thing to do in the morning generally withdrew, leaving the rest of the loyalists to finish the last drop.

The idea of “Orange Societies” arose, in my opinion, from this association, which, I believe, still exists, but has, I understand, degenerated into a sort of half-mounted club; – not exclusive enough for gentlemen, and too fine for wig-makers: it has, in fact, sunk into a paltry and unimportant corporate utensil.

I recollect an amusing circumstance which many years back occurred in this lodge. Until politics grew too hot, Napper Tandy and several other of the patriots were aldermen: but finding that ultra-loyalty was making way too fast for their notions, they sought some fair opportunity of seceding from the club, stealing the mace, and regenerating the whole board and establishment of Skinners’-alley! and the opportunity was not long wanting.

An apothecary, of the name of M‘Mahon, had become an alderman solely to avoid being considered a friend of the Pope: this, in point of reality, he was; but as, at that period, his creed was not the popular one, he conceived that he might thrive better in his business by appearing a stanch Protestant; or at least might learn, by association, some valuable secrets, and then blab them to his own sect.

But M‘Mahon, although a clever person, was, like many an honest fellow, vastly more candid when he got “the sup in” than he had ever intended to be; indeed, in these circumstances, whatever a man thinks often comes out in spite of him, as if it disagreed with his liquor! Thus, one unfortunate night, “Doctor M‘Mahon, the apothecary,” (as he was termed in Aungier-street,) having made too free amongst his brother-aldermen, and been completely overmastered by the blue jug, forgot his company, and began to speak rather unkindly of King William. His worthy associates, who had made similar applications to the blue and white, took fire at this sacrilege offered to their patron saint: one word brought on another; – the doctor grew outrageous; and, in his paroxysm, (not having the fear of flogging before his eyes,) actually damned King William! proceeding, in the enthusiasm of his popery, most thoughtlessly for himself and for the unhappy king’s bust then staring before him, to strike it with his huge fat fist plump in the face!

The aldermen, who had never heard blasphemy against their canonised king before, were astonished, while the bust immediately showed most evident and marvellous symptoms of maltreatment by the apothecary; its beautiful virgin white marble appearing to be actually stained with blood! This miracle caused one of the aldermen to roar out in a fright – “That villain, M‘Mahon, has broken the king’s nose!” – “The king’s nose!” ran throughout the room: some, who had been dozing, hearing this cry of high-treason from every quarter, rose and rushed with the rest upon the doctor: his clothes were soon turned into ribbons, and the cry of “throw him out of the window!” was unanimously and resolutely adopted: the window was opened; the doctor, after exerting all his muscular powers (and he was a strong, active man), was compelled to yield to numbers, and out he went into the street, very much to the ease and satisfaction of the loyal aldermen. The window was now closed again, the “Glorious Memory” drunk, the king’s nose washed clean from the blood formerly belonging to the doctor’s knuckles (which his Majesty’s feature had unmercifully scarified), and all restored to peace and tranquillity.

As for the poor doctor, out he went, as we have said, clean and cleverly, one good story. But (whether through chance or Providence we will not pretend to determine) fortunately for him, a lamp and lamp-iron stood immediately under the window whereby he had made so sudden an exit! Hence, the doctor’s route downward was impeded by a crash, like that made by the crescent in a military band, against the lamp; the glass and other materials all yielded to the precious weight, and very probably prevented the pavement from having the honour of receiving his brains for the scavenger: he held a moment by the iron, and then dropped quite gently into the arms of a couple of guardians of the night, who, attracted by the uproar in the room above, and seeing the window open, and the doctor getting out feet foremost, conceived that it was only a drunken frolic, and so placed themselves underneath “to keep the gentleman out of the gutter.”⁴²

The doctor scarcely waited to thank his preservers, set out pretty well sobered to his home, and the next day, summoning all the humane and patriotic aldermen, to whom he told his own story, they determined to secede and set up a new corps at the King’s Arms in Fowns’s-street. The old aldermen defended their conduct as loyal subjects; the others stigmatised it as the act of a set of man-slaughterers: these old and young guards of the British Constitution from that day set about advertising each other, and making proselytes on either side; and the Orange and United Irishmen parties gained as many recruiting serjeants by the fracas, as there were permanents or seceders among those illustrious aldermen.

As nothing is so much calculated to gratify the aldermen of Skinners’ Alley as anecdotes respecting his Holiness the Pope, or their eminencies the cardinals, I am happy in being enabled to afford them one, of which I was an eye-witness. I had the honour of touching his Holiness’s bull to the late Sir Francis Gould (of gallant memory), and of seeing the beautiful candles therewith – six feet and an inch in their sockets: and if the saving clause in the bull should disappoint the aldermen, they must blame the caution of Cardinal Gonsalvi for having it inserted (though, I believe, a lay cardinal). I regret that at present I can furnish them with no other anecdotes of the kind (at least that came within my own knowledge); but the following will serve excellently well to elucidate the Pope’s bulls of absolution.

A few years since, the present Sir John Bourke, of Glinsk, Bart., travelled with his new-married lady and establishment to Rome – not solely for his pleasure, but, as an Irish Catholic, to pay his respects to the Pope, kiss his Holiness’s toe, and purchase antiquities.

The late Sir Francis Gould, then at Paris, requested Sir John (before me) that, as he fancied he felt himself in a declining state of health, and unable to travel so far as Rome, he (Sir John) would take the proper steps, through Cardinal Gonsalvi, to procure him from his Holiness a bull of plenary absolution, and, if possible, an indulgence also; adding that Sir John might hint to the Cardinal that he intended to bequeath a good deal of his property amongst the clergy.

Sir John undertook the matter, – proceeded to Rome, – saw the Cardinal, and, as far as the absolution went, succeeded. He was himself at the same time created “Marchese de Bourke of the Holy Roman Empire;” and a bull was duly made out for Sir Francis Gould, at very considerable expense. Sir John received also a couple of blessed candles, six feet long, to burn whilst the bull was being read. Its express terms and conditions, however, were: – “Provided the penitent, Sir Francis Gould, should not again voluntarily commit the same sins now forgiven;” (which list included nearly all the sins the Cardinal could think of!) in the other case, the forgiveness would be void, and the two sets of sins come slap upon the soul of Sir Francis at once, no doubt with compound interest; – and which nothing but severe penance, some hundred full masses, and a great deal of mass-money, would ever be able to bring him through.

Sir John having brought home the bull, magnificently enclosed, and sewed up in a silk bag sealed officially by the Cardinal, informed Sir Francis (as we were all dining together at Bourke’s hotel) that he had that day unpacked his luggage, had the Pope’s bull perfectly safe, and would hand it to him instantly.

Sir Francis asked him its exact purport. “I have had two others,” said he; “but they are null, for I sinned again, and so can’t depend upon them.”

Sir John informed him of the purport, so far as his Latin went; when Sir Francis calmly said, “My dear Bourke, don’t give me the bull yet awhile: its operation, I find, is only retrospective, and does not affect sins committed after its delivery: why did you not bring me one that would answer always?”

“Such a one would cost a damned deal more,” replied Sir John.

“Well, then,” said Sir Francis, “send it to me in about ten days or a fortnight —not sooner: it will answer then pretty well, as I am about taking away a beautiful young creature, my landlady’s daughter, next week, and I should have that sin to answer for, if you gave me the bull before I had her clean out of Paris!”

He kept his word, took off the girl, then got the absolution; and in a very short time, poor fellow! was afforded, by death, an opportunity of trying its efficacy.