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ELECTION FOR COUNTY WEXFORD

Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s contest for County Wexford, omitted by all his pseudo-biographers – Duel of Mr. Alcock and Mr. Colclough (candidates), on a question respecting Mr. Sheridan’s poll – Colclough killed – A lamentable incident – Mr. Alcock’s trial – He afterward goes mad and dies – His sister, Miss Alcock, also dies lunatic in consequence – Marquess of Ely tried for an outrage at Wexford, and fined.

It is to be lamented that the biographers and eulogists of Richard Brinsley Sheridan should have suppressed some of the most creditable incidents of his variegated life, while his memory is disgraced by pretended friends and literary admirers.

These writers have raked up from his ashes, and exposed to public indignation, every failing of that great and gifted man: – so that, if their own productions were by any chance to become permanent, they would send him down to posterity as a witty, but low and dissipated sharper; or, in their very best colouring, as the most talented of mean and worthless mendicants. But Sheridan’s reputation will outlive all such attempts to obliterate it; while the ignorance of his libellers is conspicuous from their entire omission of some of the most interesting events of his career, at the same time that others are vouched for, which to my individual knowledge are gross misrepresentations.

Among the incidents that have been overlooked is one both extraordinary and melancholy, and forming an honourable comment on Mr. Sheridan’s public character. I was myself interested in the transaction; – and can give it on my own responsibility. I am, indeed, most anxious to rescue his memory from the rough hands which, in sketching their subject, have placed the mane of the lion upon the shoulders of a mountebank.

In speaking thus, I deeply regret that one of these biographers should be a man whom I esteem; and I regret it the more, since he has used poor Sheridan as a chopping-block, whereon to hack the character of the most illustrious person of the British empire, who (for the first time in his life, I believe) has been accused of pecuniary illiberality. A circumstance accidentally came to my knowledge to prove that charge the very reverse of truth. But an opportunity will be taken by me of observing still more explicitly on these friends of Mr. Sheridan.

At the general election of 1807, Mr. John Colclough, of Tintern Abbey, County Wexford, a near relative of mine, (and locum tenens of his elder-brother, Mr. Cæsar Colclough, who had been long resident on the continent,) declared himself for the second time candidate for Wexford county, which he had represented in the previous parliament. The Colclough estates were large, the freeholders thereon numerous, and devoted to the interest of their patriotic leader, whose uncle, Mr. John Grogan, of Johnstown Castle (also a relative of mine), possessed of a very large fortune and extensive tenantry, had united with his nephew and other most respectable and independent gentlemen of that county, to liberate its representation from the trammels of certain noblemen who had for many years usurped its domination. Mr. Colclough was determined to put the pride, spirit, and patriotism of the county to proof; and therefore, in the progress of the business, proposed Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan as joint-candidate with himself, declaring that he was authorised by the independent freeholders of the county to say, that they should feel the greatest gratification in being represented by so distinguished an ornament to the name of Irishman.

Mr. Colclough and Mr. Sheridan were therefore nominated on the one hand; and Mr. Alcock, supported by the interest of the influenced electors, on the other.

Never yet was any poll conducted by more resolute, active, and zealous partisans; but it is lamentable to add that they were equally intemperate as zealous. The ignis fatuus of patriotism had caught the mass of the population; tenants no longer obeyed the dictates of their absent landlords nor the menaces of tyrannic agents: no man could count on the votes of his former vassals. The hustings was thronged with crowds of tenantry, constitutionally breaking away from their shackles, and voting according to their principles of free agency for Sheridan, – a man known to them only by the celebrity of his talents. The poll proceeded: – the independent party was advancing fast to success; and had the election continued, there is little doubt that Mr. Sheridan would have been a representative for Wexford county. At this crisis occurred one of the most unfortunate and melancholy events on Irish record, and by which the contest was terminated – as if the untoward destiny of Sheridan withered every thing with which he came in contact.

Several tenants of a person who had given his interest to Mr. Alcock absolutely refused to vote for that gentleman, declaring that, at every risk, they would support Colclough and “the great Sheridan!” Mr. Alcock’s partisans perverted the free agency of these men into seduction on the part of Mr. Colclough: hence a feeling decidedly hostile was excited; the fierce zeal and frenzy of election partisanship burst into a flame; and Mr. Colclough was required to decline such votes, or to receive them at his peril.

Of course he disregarded this outrageous threat, and open war ensued. One party lost sight of reason; – both, of humanity; and it was determined, that before the opening of next morning’s poll, the candidates should decide, by single combat, the contested question, and (of course) the election itself. With what indignation and horror must such a resolution, at once assailing law, good morals, and decency, be now regarded! and how will the feeling of surprise increase from its being passed over with impunity!

Early on the eventful morning many hundred people assembled to witness the affair; and it will scarcely be believed that no less than eleven or twelve county magistrates stood by, passive spectators of the bloody scene which followed, without an effort, or apparently a wish, to stop the proceeding.

Both combatants were remarkably near-sighted; and Mr. Alcock determined on wearing glasses, which was resisted by the friends of Mr. Colclough, who would wear none. – The partisans of the former, however, persevered, and he did wear them. The ground at length was marked; the anxious crowd separated on either side, as their party feelings led them; but all seemed to feel a common sense of horror and repugnance. The unfeeling seconds handed to each principal a couple of pistols; and placing them about eight or nine steps asunder, withdrew, leaving two gentlemen of fortune and character – brother-candidates for the county – and former friends, nay, intimate companions, – standing in the centre of a field, without any personal offence given or received, encouraged by false friends, and permitted by unworthy magistrates, to butcher each other as quickly and as effectually as their position and weapons would admit.

The sight was awful! – a dead silence and pause ensued: the great crowd stood in motionless suspense: the combatants presented: men scarcely breathed: the word was given: Mr. Alcock fired first, and his friend – his companion – one of the best men of Ireland, instantly fell forward, shot through the heart! he spoke not – but turning on one side, his heart’s blood gushed forth – his limbs quivered – he groaned, and expired. His pistol exploded after he was struck – of course without effect.

The bystanders looked almost petrified. The profound stillness continued for a moment, horror having seized the multitude, when, on the sudden, a loud and universal yell (the ancient practice of the Irish peasantry on the death of a chieftain) simultaneously burst out like a peal of thunder from every quarter of the field; a yell so savage and continuous – so like the tone of revenge, – that it would have appalled any stranger to the customs of the country. Alcock and his partisans immediately retreated; those of Colclough collected round his body; and their candidate (a few moments before in health, spirits, and vigour!) was mournfully borne back upon a plank to the town of his nativity, and carried lifeless through those very streets which had that morning been prepared to signalise his triumph.

The election-poll, of course, proceeded without further opposition: – the joint friends of Colclough and Sheridan, deprived of their support, and thunderstruck at the event, thought of nothing but lamentation; and in one hour Mr. Alcock was declared duly elected for Wexford county, solely through the death of his brother-candidate, whom he had himself that morning unjustly immolated.

A more wanton duel, a more unnecessary, cruel, and in all points illegal transaction, never occurred in the United Empire: yet, strange to say, of those eleven or twelve magistrates who actually stood by, as amateurs or partisans, in defiance of the law and of their duty, – not one was displaced or punished! – a precedent of impunity most discreditable to the high authorities of that day, dangerous to the peace of the country, and subversive of the first principles of free election. Judge of Sheridan’s feelings on receiving this intelligence! and judge of the correctness of his biographers, who have suppressed the incident altogether.

Nor was poor Colclough’s death the last act of the tragedy. His friends thought themselves called on to prosecute Mr. Alcock, who fled, but subsequently returned and surrendered for trial. I attended, as special counsel for the prosecution. Baron Smith tried the cause. The evidence was stronger than I have deemed it necessary to recite. The baron stated his opinion on the legal distinctions as applicable to duelling, and on that opinion the bar differed. It was not the wish of the prosecutors to do more than mark the transaction by a conviction for manslaughter, which the law, under the circumstances, seemed to render imperative. However, the then politics of Wexford juries differed not unfrequently both from the laws of God and the statute book; and the verdict returned in this instance was, to the surprise of every one, a general acquittal!

But, alas! the acquitted duellist suffered more in mind than his victim had done in body. The horror of the scene, and the solemnity of the trial, combined to make a fatal inroad on his reason! He became melancholy; his understanding gradually declined; a dark gloom enveloped his entire intellect; and an excellent young man and perfect gentleman at length sank into irrecoverable imbecility. Goaded by the vicious frenzy of election partisans, he had slain his friend; and, haunted by reflection and sorrow, he ended his own days in personal restraint and mental ruin.

Two other duels were fought upon the same occasion, but with little injury and still less interest. Mr. Cæsar Colclough has since returned from the continent; and, on the strength of his late brother’s popularity, was elected member for County Wexford. He has not, however, followed up the high reputation of that brother; nor very satisfactorily fulfilled the expectations of his constituents.

But to this sanguinary and fatal duel there was yet another sad corollary. Miss Alcock, sister of the member, had been most deeply affected by the mournful catastrophe. She had known Colclough long and intimately; and being an amiable and sensitive young woman, – her brother’s absence, his trial, and his subsequent depression, kept the gloomy transaction alive in her mind: hence she also gradually wasted; and the death of her brother sinking deeper and deeper into a heart, all the sources of tranquillity whereof had been dried up, —her reason wandered, at length fled, and she did not long survive the dreadful fate of her friend and of her brother.

A trivial anecdote will suffice to exhibit the general state of Wexford county, and of the aristocracy and magistracy, many of whom were a disgrace to their office, and completely filled up Mr. Grattan’s definition of a “regal rebel” by their arrogance, tyranny, oppression, and disaffection. By these men the peasantry were goaded into a belief that justice was banished, and so driven into the arms of the avowed rebels, who used every lure to enforce their previous delusion.

A handsome young woman, maid-servant to a Mrs. Lett, who was considered as a great patriot (rebel) in Wexford, happened one summer’s evening to sit at her mistress’s window singing songs, but to certain airs that were not considered orthodox by the aristocracy.

The present Marquess of Ely, with the high sheriff and other gentlemen of the county, were retiring after their wine from the grand-jury, and heard this unfortunate young siren warbling at the window: but as the song sounded to their loyal ears of a rebellious tendency, it was thought advisable to demolish the fragile parts of Mrs. Lett’s house-front without delay; and, accordingly, my lord, the high sheriff, and their friends (to preserve the peace and protect the constitution from such traitorous maid-servants), forthwith commenced their laudable undertaking; and stones being the weapons nearest at hand, the windows and the warbling maid received a broadside, which was of the greatest utility to the glazier, and had well-nigh put fees into the pockets, not only of the surgeon, but of the sexton and coroner likewise.

However, on this occasion, justice was not so far off as the peasants had been persuaded: my lord, the high sheriff, and others, being indicted and tried, I had the honour of being his lordship’s counsel; and as our duty was to make “the worse appear the better cause,” I certainly did my utmost for the marquess: – but his lordship, conceiving my delicacy to the maid-servant rather too great, requested permission to ask her a few questions himself, which was granted.

“Now, girl,” said the marquess, “by the oath you have taken, did you not say you would split my skull open?”

“Why, then, by the virtue of my oath,” said the girl, turning to the judge, “it would not be worth my while to split his skull open, my lord!”

“Ha! ha!” said the marquess, “now I have her!” (wisely supposing she made some allusion to a reward for killing him:) “and why, girl, would it be not worth your while?”

“Because, my lord,” answered she, “if I had split your lordship’s skull open, – by virtue of my oath, I am sure and certain I should have found little or nothing inside of it!”

The laugh against the noble marquess was now too great to admit of his proceeding any further with his cross-examination: he was found guilty, and fined.

WEDDED LIFE

Lord Clonmel, chief justice of the Irish Court of King’s Bench – His character – Lady Tyrawly’s false charge against him – Consequent duel between him and Lord Tyrawly – Eclaircissement – Lord Tyrawly and Miss Wewitzer – Lord Clonmel’s hints “How to rule a wife” – Subsequent conversation with his lordship at Sir John Tydd’s.

The first chief judge who favoured me with his intimacy was Lord Clonmel, chief justice of the King’s Bench. His character appears at full length in my “Historical Memoirs of Ireland,” vol. i. p. 38, and a curious but true character it is. I was introduced to his lordship’s notice through Sir John Tydd (the truest friend he had), and received from him many instances of attention; and he gave me, early in life, some of the very best practical maxims. As he was one of the celebrated official “fire-eaters” (whom I shall hereafter mention), and fought several duels, it may be amusing to extract here, from the work in question, a few distinguishing traits of his lordship. – “Mr. Scott never omitted one favourable opportunity of serving himself. His skill was unrivalled, and his success proverbial. He was full of anecdotes, though not the most refined: these in private society he not only told, but acted; and when he perceived that he had made a very good exhibition, he immediately withdrew, that he might leave the most lively impression of his pleasantry behind him. His boldness was his first introduction – his policy, his ultimate preferment. – Courageous, vulgar, humorous, artificial, he knew the world well, and he profited by that knowledge: – he cultivated the powerful; he bullied the timid; he fought the brave; he flattered the vain; he duped the credulous; and he amused the convivial. He frequently, in his prosperity, acknowledged favours he had received when he was obscure, and occasionally requited them. Half-liked, half-reprobated, he was too high to be despised, and too low to be respected. His language was coarse, and his principles arbitrary; but his passions were his slaves, and his cunning was his instrument. In public and in private he was the same character; and, though a most fortunate man and a successful courtier, he had scarcely a sincere friend or a disinterested adherent.” – What regard I had for his lordship was literally so.

His duel with Lord Tyrawly was caused and attended by circumstances which combine to form a curious narrative: – Lady Tyrawly had an utter dislike for her husband (then the Honourable James Cuffe). They had no children, and she made various efforts to induce him to consent to a distinct and total separation. There being no substantial cause for such a measure, Mr. Cuffe looked upon it as ridiculous, and would not consent. – At length, the lady hit upon an excellent mode for carrying her wishes into effect, and ensuring a separate maintenance: but I have never heard of the precedent being followed.

Mr. Cuffe found her one day in tears, a thing not frequent with her ladyship, who had a good deal of the amazon about her. She sobbed – threw herself on her knees – went through the usual evolutions of a repentant female – and, at length, told her husband that she was unworthy of his future protection, – had been faithless to him, and was a lost and guilty woman.

I suppose there is a routine of contrition, explanation, rage, honour, &c. &c. which generally attends developments of this nature; and I take for granted that the same was duly performed by the Honourable Mr. and Mrs. Cuffe. Suffice it to say, that the latter was put into a sedan-chair and ordered out of the house forthwith to private lodgings, until it was the will of her injured lord to send a deed of annuity for her support.

Mr. Cuffe next proceeded to summon a friend, and inform him that his wife had owned “that villain Scott,” the attorney-general, and the pretended friend of his family, to be her seducer! – that not his love, but his honour was so deeply concerned, as to render the death of one or the other necessary; – and, without further ceremony, a message was sent, for mortal combat, to the attorney-general, urging the lady’s confession, his own dishonourable breach of trust, and Mr. Cuffe’s determination to fight him.

Mr. Scott, well knowing that a declaration, or even an oath, of innocence would, by the world, be considered either as honourable perjury on his part, to save Mrs. Cuffe’s reputation, or as a mode of screening himself from her husband’s vengeance (and in no case be believed even by the good-natured part of society); made up his mind for the worst.

The husband and supposed gallant accordingly met: no explanation could be listened to: the ground was duly measured – the flints hammered – the parties bowed to each other (as was then usual), and exchanged shots; and each having heard the bullets humanely whiz past his skull, without indicating a desire of becoming more intimately acquainted therewith, Mr. Scott told his antagonist that he was totally mistaken, and gave his honour that he never had the slightest familiarity with the lady, who, he concluded, must have lost her reason.⁵¹

There was no cause for denying credence to this; while, on the other hand, it was but too likely that Mr. Cuffe had been tricked by his lady wife. She was sure of a separation, for he had turned her out: and if he had fallen on the field of honour, she would have had a noble jointure; – so that she was in utrumque parata, – secure under every chance – death or Doctor Duigenan.

On his return, he sent her a most severe reprimand; and announced but a moderate annuity, which she instantly and haughtily refused, positively declaring that she never had made any confession of guilt! that the whole was a scheme of his own vicious jealousy, to get rid of her; and that she had only said, he might just as well suspect the attorney-general, who had never said a civil thing to her, as any body else! She dared him to prove the least impropriety on her part; and yet he had cruelly turned her out of his house, and proclaimed his innocent wife to be a guilty woman.

Mr. Cuffe saw she had been too many for him every way! – he durst not give more publicity to the affair; and therefore agreed to allow her a very large annuity, whereon she lived a happy life, and died not many years since at Bath.

The subsequent connexion of Lord Tyrawly had likewise a singular termination. Miss Wewitzer, sister to the late celebrated violinist of that name, soon filled Mrs. Cuffe’s vacant place; and by her my lord had many children – the eldest being the present Colonel Cuffe, member of Parliament for Mayo; a very good man, honourable and friendly. I never saw two persons live more happily together than Lord Tyrawly and Miss Wewitzer, whom he considered as his wife. She was unexceptionably correct, and he wholly attached to her. She had been remarkably pretty, and celebrated as Rosetta (in Bickerstaff’s opera). I was intimate with Lord Tyrawly, and have entertained a great regard for Colonel Cuffe from his boyhood.

The death of Lady Tyrawly at length gave his lordship the long-expected opportunity of realising his promises and intentions, for the sake of his family; and Lord Tyrawly and Miss Wewitzer being regularly married, she became the real Lady Tyrawly – whom she had so many years represented.

Now, here was a cohabitation of considerably more than twenty years, in happiness and tranquillity, followed up by an honourable and just arrangement, wherefrom it might be rationally supposed an increase of happiness would ensue. But no sooner did the parties become legally man and wife, than Madam Discord introduced herself! It is singular, but true, that (as if Nature originally intended every living thing to remain totally free and independent) the moment any two animals, however fond before, are fastened together by a cord or chain they cannot break, they begin to quarrel without any reason, and tear each other, solely because they can’t get loose again.⁵²

I think what renders ladies quarrelsome after they are tied, who were so sweet and conciliatory before, is, the natural and inherent spirit of contradiction of which the fair sex are accused. This they are privileged to exercise to its full extent during courtship; and the abrupt transfer of it immediately after the honey-moon might ruffle the temper of an angel!

So it was with my Lord and Lady T.; and every hour added fresh fuel to the flame. She had been Lady Tyrawly only in remainder and expectancy; but possession alters matters extremely in the humour of most people. At length (to continue my pretty simile) the chain became red-hot, – neither of them could bear it longer, and the whole affair ended in a voluntary and most uncomfortable separation! However, it was only for a short time: death, always fond of doing mischief in families, very soon brought them together again; and if such a thing can be conceived as possible in the other world, it is no bad conjecture, that at this very moment my Lord T., the two Ladies T., and Lord Clonmel, are, among a group of other ghosts, thinking what fools men are to give themselves so much uneasiness upon subjects which only pass like shadows, instead of turning their minds to what might be much more material – namely, how to get over their sins when the last assizes come round.

I recollect one of Lord Clonmel’s maxims was, “whatever must be done in the course of the week, always do it on Monday morning:” and in truth, whoever practises that rule, will find it in no slight degree convenient. I never did.

Immediately after I was married, I resided next door to Lord Clonmel, in Harcourt-street. He called on me most kindly, and took me to walk over his fine gardens and lawn; and was so humorous and entertaining, that his condescension (as I then felt it) quite delighted me; but I afterward found out that he made a point of discovering every young man likely to succeed in public life, and took the earliest moment possible of being so civil as to ensure a friend, if not a partisan; and no man wanted the latter more than his lordship.

“Barrington,” said he to me, “you are married?”

“No doubt,” said I, laughingly, “as tight as any person on the face of the earth, my lord.”

“All women in the world,” rejoined his lordship, “are fond of having their own way.”

“I am firmly of your opinion, my lord,” said I.

“Now,” pursued he, “the manner in which all wives are spoiled, is by giving them their own way at first; for whatever you accustom them to at the beginning, they will expect ever after: so, mind me! I’ll tell you the secret of ruling a wife, if known in time: – never do any thing for peace-sake: if you do, you’ll never have one hour’s tranquillity but by concession– mind that!”

“I firmly believe it,” exclaimed I.

“Well,” said he, “practise it, Barrington!”

Some time after, I met his lordship at Lamberton, Queen’s county, the seat of Sir John Tydd. He related the above story with much humour, and asked me if I had taken his advice. – “No,” said I.

“No! why not?” inquired his lordship.

“Because,” replied I, “a philosopher has an easier life of it than a soldier.”

I had the laugh against him, and the more particularly as his lordship had married a second wife, Miss Lawless (the present dowager); and I believe no husband in Ireland adhered less to his own maxim than did Lord Clonmel after that union. My own opinion on the subject ever was, that contradicting a woman never pays for the trouble of the operation: if she is a fool, it makes her worse; if a sensible woman, she does not require it; and if of an epicene temper, coaxing will do more in half an hour, than bullyragging (a vulgar but expressive Irish idiom) in a fortnight.