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 UBRARYO/ 
 
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 THE 
 
 CLUBS OF LONDON; 
 
 ANECDOTES OF THEIR MEMBERS, 
 SKETCHES OF CHARACTER, 
 
 AND 
 
 CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 1828.
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET-STREET.
 
 STACK ANNEX 
 
 , \ 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 IT is almost unnecessary to remind the 
 Reader, that a few of the Anecdotes in the 
 First Volume of this Work have already ap- 
 peared in "The New Monthly Magazine." 
 
 879378
 
 THE 
 
 &C. 
 
 VOL. 1.
 
 * INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Once fetter it with the chains of a definition ; 
 circumscribe its comforts, its enjoyments, its 
 warm communion of heart, within the limits of 
 any precise term, and it is no longer a club. 
 
 Yet how grossly has this word been abused ! 
 Jacobins, Feuillans, Whigs, and Pittites have 
 successively usurped it ; as if leagues and con- 
 federations to keep alive political passions, or 
 to propagate political sympathies, deserved a 
 name, which, but for a gross depravation of 
 language, would have been held sacred to the 
 gentler intercourse, and undisturbed fellowship 
 it originally designated ! 
 
 A specific purpose pursued in confederation 
 will not make a club ; otherwise the Society 
 for the Suppression of Vice, and the Holy Alli- 
 ance, would be clubs. But in its genuine, un- 
 perverted meaning, how much is included in the 
 phrase! what kind-hearted feelings, what a 
 cluster of cheerful sensations and of innocent 
 delights, lie embedded in that homely mono- 
 syllable ! 
 
 We do not, by any means, claim the honours 
 of this venerable title for several modern sub-
 
 INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 scription-houses, which, by a colloquial usur- 
 pation are called Clubs. They are merely sub- 
 stitutes for the coffee-houses, which they have 
 superseded. It was not the love of pleasant 
 companionship that gave them birth ; but a 
 thrifty speculation, that purveys at the cheap- 
 est rate for sensual satisfaction, and is intent 
 on nothing more than getting, with Harpagon, 
 bonne ch^re avec pen cTargent. The social ele- 
 ments of the club-room go for nothing in such 
 a calculation. Negative qualities, merely, are 
 the tests of admission. 
 
 Not to be wholly exceptionable; how dif- 
 ferent is this from being agreeable ? To 
 belong to a respectable class; how tame 
 is this to forming a class by one's self! 
 In short, the club-feeling does not subsist 
 amongst the selfish and worldly beings of 
 these places. Brought together to-day by no 
 community of sentiment or of enjoyment, they 
 may be dispersed to-morrow without the rup- 
 ture of a single tie. No one by quitting such 
 an association leaves a place that is felt to be 
 void. Whether he leave it to traverse distant
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 countries, or descend into the cold grave, he 
 only makes a vacancy that is instantly filled up. 
 This is not fellowship but association ; or rather 
 a fortuitous concurrence of human atoms, ce- 
 mented by no part either of the heart or the 
 understanding. 
 
 How remote is all this from a club properly so 
 called-' There, mutual esteem, mutual habitude, 
 mutual kindness, first directed the choice, and 
 afterwards strengthened the union. There we 
 find a sort of defensive alliance of all against the 
 ills and perturbations by which each is assailed. 
 It is the mart to which every one comes attired 
 in his holiday feelings, and beaming with his 
 sunshine looks ; and where the kindliest com- 
 merce of friendship and good-will and gladness 
 is carried on. Its fundamental charter is an 
 unassuming, unenvious equality. There the 
 first pronoun personal is obliged to keep a de- 
 cent subordination. No self-important cox- 
 comb can dictate as he pleases ; no East India 
 Colonel prose by the hour ; no huckster in com- 
 mon gossip, ply his dirty traffic. 
 
 Yet the harmless, the not unpleasing vani-
 
 INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 ties, budding out evermore from our self-love, 
 the trunk from which half of our qualities 
 germinate, good, bad, or indifferent, these, 
 when they assume a placid form, and trespass not 
 against the self-love of others, as they cannot be 
 suppressed, so they ought not to be interdicted ; 
 for they are a part of the human being, and go 
 a great way to make him an individual. To sever 
 them from him, would be a harsh mutilation. 
 
 He must be a sour, austere, or, in one word, 
 an unclublike creature, who would grudge a 
 short hearing to the narratives that confer upon 
 us a few moments of dignity, as we recount 
 them ; the innocent chronicles of our younger, 
 or of our sunnier, hours, which we live over again 
 almost in their first freshness whilst we are tell- 
 ing them ! How cruel to cut off from us that 
 second life, brief and momentary as it is ! to 
 exact an arithmetical precision on such an oc- 
 casion ; to lie on the watch, crouching for the 
 slip of a date, then to pounce upon us, and 
 break the whole texture to the last thread, in 
 the wanton exercise of a mere matter-of-fact 
 despotism !
 
 8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It is the universal complaint, that the occupa- 
 tion of the dramatic writer is gone ; and, as we 
 are loth to admit a decline of genius as a cause 
 for any thing in the present day, we accuse the 
 uniformity of modern manners, and the level- 
 ling influences of fashion, of making one man 
 merely a counterpart to his neighbour, and of 
 leaving the comic poet classes instead of indivi- 
 duals for his materials. Nothing, it is said, stands 
 out sufficiently in relief. Human society being 
 compared to a gallery of portraits, with one in- 
 variable family simper, and as much alike, as 
 if they had all been painted by Kneller, the hu- 
 mourists, once the staple commodity of the dra- 
 ma, are said to have become extinct. Yet, we 
 will venture to say, that these personages are still 
 to be found at a club truly English, and found- 
 ed on genuine club-principles. For it is there 
 that every one gives vent to feelings which he 
 suppresses in the artificial intercourses of life. 
 It is there that his qualities stand out un- 
 disguised and unrestrained ; that affectation and 
 false pretence are immediately detected, and
 
 INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 the whole man brought forward in his just and 
 unborrowed proportions. 
 
 In that club, the beau-ideal of clubs, " the 
 club" par-excellence, (and can we mean any other 
 than that of the Spectator?) how admirably, 
 and by what exact and harmonious clock-work, 
 do the humours and eccentricities of each mem- 
 ber strike at their appointed seasons ! How ex- 
 quisitely modified, how tempered into a bland 
 assimilation, is each man's especial vanity, if 
 that be the proper term for any thing so un- 
 offending ! Whatever the thing may be, how 
 kindly does it tolerate the little outbreakings of 
 it in others ! There is no surly cognizance 
 taken of the little amplifications with which 
 our natural good-will to our own stories occa- 
 sionally embellishes them ; no cold, icy sneer at 
 those half-fictions, which fancy, without our 
 consent, sometimes entangles in the frail web 
 of our reminiscence. The amiable and be- 
 nignant Sir Roger, with his bundle of good- 
 natured whims and prejudices, diffuses himself 
 over the freaks of his youth, and listens in his
 
 10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 turn, with placid respect, spite of their 
 difference in politics, to the mercantile sen- 
 tentiousness of Sir Andrew Freeport, the mo- 
 dest narrations of Captain Sentry, and the self- 
 complacent gallantries of that battered beau, 
 Will Honeycombe. 
 
 The age of such clubs is, alas ! gone by ; but 
 Addison's, will always remain the ideal model of 
 a perfect club, though only a shadowing froth of 
 his fancy. In those days, however, there were 
 real clubs, equal in every respect to that inge- 
 nious portraiture, but to which nothing now 
 offers a parallel. 
 
 There was the Kit-Kat, where heroes and 
 patriots, the pride and glory of the realm, 
 soothed their grave and dignified cares, in easy, 
 tranquil communion, within the " warm pre- 
 cincts'" of a tavern-parlour. When that club 
 lost its snugness* as it did when it became a 
 mere political association, it soon expired. Then 
 flourished also the Scriblerus-club, where Swift, 
 Harley, Arbuthnot, Pope, Gay, and Craggs the 
 younger, mingled in nightly converse. 
 
 Nearer to our own days, was the club ori-
 
 INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 ginally held at the Essex-head, where the genius 
 of Samuel Johnson, Burke, Reynolds, Gold- 
 smith, Windham, and Fox, threw out its milder, 
 its evening radiance, over their easy and unre- 
 strained communications of heart and intellect. 
 Noctes, ccenaque Deorum ! The conversa- 
 tion in this delightful society was always un- 
 forced and natural, and ran smoothly and 
 gently along, touching upon every topic that 
 occurred, like Shakspeare's current, " giving 
 a kiss to every stone it overtaketh in its pil- 
 grimage." Even Johnson's growl was soft- 
 ened into something that resembled amenity ; 
 and if you examine closely the composition of 
 that club, you will see the felicity of its con- 
 texture ; and how cunningly its tints were dis- 
 posed and varied through their several shades 
 and gradations, from the rich and gorgeous 
 glow of such minds as Burke's, to the chas- 
 tised wit and unambitious pleasantry of Top- 
 ham Beauclerck, the lettered ease and good 
 sense of Bennet Langton, and then to the 
 excellent individuals, who, though of humbler 
 pretensions, were not stocks or stones, but of
 
 12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 shrewd, sterling, understandings ; and whose re- 
 marks were always listened to with respect and 
 attention. *It has been asserted that there 
 was seldom any set discussion amongst them ; 
 for, the easy copiousness and discursive range 
 of Burke's conversation brought together so 
 many hints and allusions, as to create a per- 
 petual variety and alternation of discourse. 
 This, indeed, was Burke's theory of conver- 
 sation, " the perfection of which," he once re- 
 marked, " was, not to play a regular sonata, 
 but, like the ^Eolian harp, to await the inspi- 
 ration of the ' passing breeze.'" 
 
 We know not exactly whence it arises. We 
 meet in every circle, in every drawing-room, 
 in every coffee-house, at every table, more well- 
 informed persons than ever; but every body 
 has remarked, that professed literary men are 
 not pleasant or instructive companions when 
 they meet together. A little sprinkling of 
 them infuses an agreeable variety in a party, 
 but, like some families, they should never visit 
 in a groupe. Does this well-founded reproach 
 arise from that professional backwardness which
 
 INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 modestly prohibits one star from shining at the 
 expense, or in the presence, of others of equal 
 magnitude ? Or is it, that, when a knot of learn- 
 ed personages are drawn together, they are apt 
 to descant, in technical language, on subjects 
 something beyond the comprehension of com- 
 mon mortals? and, when good manners pro- 
 hibit this exclusive converse, that, an author is 
 generally so little a man of the world, as to be 
 unable, or unwilling, to descend to the small 
 talk of the day? Or is it not, rather, that, 
 when in such company, a good thought, or new 
 idea arises, the inspired person prefers to reserve 
 it for his next Magazine Essay, his New 
 Novel, or his long promised Treatise on Poli- 
 tical Economy, rather than, by proclaiming it 
 on the spot, to give his literary rivals the undue 
 advantage of priority of publication ? 
 
 Literary men seldom think aloud : they 
 think upon paper, that their thoughts may. not 
 be thrown away. They are, moreover, in com- 
 pany, too much on the alert in making observa- 
 tions upon character, and in picking up the best 
 thoughts of other persons, to be able to afford
 
 14 INTRODUCTION*. 
 
 their share of the general entertainment. When, 
 however, there is only one learned Theban in 
 company, he generally shines ; for, he dreads 
 no rivalry nor petty larceny, and he feels him- 
 self to be the representative of his fraternity in 
 the General Congress of Society ; the Ambas- 
 sador of Apollo, at the Court of the Muses, 
 where he is called upon to support the credit of 
 his profession : the majority of his auditors 
 consequently admire him for the instruction that 
 falls from his lips ; and they are grateful to 
 him for removing the veil of ignorance from 
 between their eyes and those subjects which he 
 has particularly studied. 
 
 The best clubs, therefore, are those where 
 men of letters, men of commerce, and men of 
 the world, commune together : and we find 
 now and then in a cathedral-town what per- 
 haps is no longer to be found in the metro- 
 polis, an association in which all these ele- 
 ments are happily blended. Besides, the natural 
 character there is not effaced and worn down ; 
 a club, in a provincial city, being frequently 
 a hortus siccus of all the varieties of civili/ed
 
 INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 society. There may be persons of lettered and 
 studious habits amongst them, but not in suffi- 
 cient numbers to feel a corporate spirit, or 
 to overlay the native whim and humour of 
 less cultured minds. 
 
 Since the time of Dr. Johnson, the Clubs of 
 eminence in London have, for the most part, 
 been assemblages of noblemen and gentlemen 
 connected with the Court and with the Houses 
 of Parliament. In this elevated society, it 
 might be thought that there would be fewer 
 peculiarities of character than in the inferior 
 circles; that the process of classical education, 
 and the usages and forms of fashionable life, 
 would have assimilated the different individuals 
 to one model : such, however, is not always the 
 case ; for our readers will see, in the following 
 pages, that the wits and humourists who 
 formed, and do form, the brilliant coteries 
 here alluded to, present a variety of charac- 
 ter, as rich and as strongly marked, as is found 
 in the celebrated comedy which has contributed 
 to immortalize the name of one of their most 
 distinguished members, RICHARD BRINSLEY 
 SHERIDAN.
 
 17 
 
 I. 
 
 SHERIDAN'S 
 INTRODUCTION INTO BROOKES'S. 
 
 IT is proper to premise, that when any 
 gentleman is desirous of being a member of 
 Brookes's it is necessary that two members 
 should propose him, and that his name, with 
 those of the proposers, should be inscribed on a 
 board over the fire-place of the club-room, for 
 one month before his election or rejection is 
 decided. This must be by ballot, and if even 
 one black ball be thrown into the urn the can- 
 didate cannot be admitted. This rule in the 
 olden time was, like the Median and Persian 
 laws, never infringed ; perhaps it is not now ; 
 but the present members of the club are not so 
 rigid as to the character, quality, and fortune of 
 
 VOL. i. c
 
 18 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 candidates, as their fathers were. Twenty years 
 ago the club was select and by no means nu- 
 merous ; a citizen or merchant could seldom or 
 never obtain admission ; and wealth alone, with- 
 out high blood or transcendant talent, was ge- 
 nerally excluded. 
 
 Within a few late years, the number of 
 members has been extended to fifteen hun- 
 dred ; consequently, wealth, or a seat in the op- 
 position, has been a pretty certain passport 
 for admission. Election by ballot, however, 
 still continues, and the only person who ever 
 became a member without this ceremony was 
 his present Majesty, then Prince of Wales. 
 His Royal Highness entered the club in order 
 to have more frequent intercourse with Mr. 
 Fox ; and, on his first appearance, every member 
 got up and welcomed him by acclamation. But 
 to return to the subject of the present anecdote. 
 
 When Fox first became acquainted with Mr. 
 Sheridan he was so delighted with his company 
 and brilliant conversation, that he became ex- 
 ceedingly anxious to get him admitted as a mem- 
 ber of Brookes'^ club, which he himself was in
 
 SHERIDAN AT BROOKES's. 19 
 
 the habit of frequenting every night. Sheri- 
 dan was accordingly proposed, and though, on 
 several occasions, every gentleman was earnestly 
 canvassed to vote for him, yet he was sure to 
 have one black ball whenever he was balloted for, 
 which was of course sufficient to disqualify him. 
 
 This was carried on for many months, and 
 it was at length resolved on by his friends to 
 find out who the person was that so inveterately 
 opposed the admission of the orator. Accord- 
 ingly, the balls were marked, and old George 
 Selvvyn, (whose aristocratic prejudices would 
 have induced him to blackball his Majesty him- 
 self, if he could not produce proofs of noble 
 descent for three generations at least,) was dis- 
 covered to be the hostile party. This circum- 
 stance was told the same evening to Mr. Sheri- 
 dan, who desired that his name might be put 
 up again as usual, and begged that the farther 
 conduct of the matter might be left to himself. 
 
 Accordingly, on the next evening, when he 
 was to be balloted for, Sheridan arrived at 
 Brookes's, arm-in-arm with the Prince of Wales, 
 just ten minutes before the balloting began.
 
 20 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 Being shown into the candidates' waiting-room, 
 the waiter was ordered to tell Mr. Selwyn 
 that the Prince desired to speak with him in 
 the room below-stairs immediately. Selwyn 
 obeyed the summons without delay ; and Sheri- 
 dan, to whom, by the by, he had no personal 
 dislike, entertained him for half-an-hour with a 
 political story, which interested him very much, 
 but which, of course, had no foundation in truth. 
 
 During Selwyn's absence, the balloting went 
 on, and Sheridan was chosen; which circum- 
 stance was announced to himself and the Prince 
 by the entrance of the waiter, who made the 
 preconcerted signal, by stroking his chin with 
 his hand. Sheridan immediately got up, and 
 apologizing for an absence of a few minutes, 
 told Mr. Selwyn, " that the Prince would finish 
 the narrative, the catastrophe of which he would 
 find very remarkable" 
 
 He now made his way up-stairs, and his 
 name being sent in to Mr. Fox, the latter 
 came out, took him by the hand, and intro- 
 duced him with all due formality to the Club ; 
 all the members of which welcomed him, by
 
 SHERIDAN AT BROOKEs's. SI 
 
 shaking hands, and with the most flattering 
 compliments. Sheridan was now in his glory ! 
 
 The Prince, in the mean time, was left in no 
 enviable situation; for, he had not the least 
 idea of being left to conclude a story, the thread 
 of which (if it had a thread) he had entirely 
 forgotten ; or which, perhaps, his eagerness to 
 serve Sheridan's cause, prevented him from 
 listening to, with sufficient attention, to take up 
 where Sheridan had dropped it. Still, by means 
 of his auditor's occasional assistance in the way 
 of prompting, he contrived, with a good deal of 
 humming and hawing, to get on pretty well 
 for a few minutes, when a question from old 
 Selwyn, as to the flat contradiction of a part of 
 his Royal Highness's story to that of Sheridan, 
 completely pozed him, and he stuck fast. 
 
 Having endeavoured to set himself right by 
 floundering about a good deal, and finding that 
 it was all labour in vain, the Prince at length 
 burst out into a loud laugh at the ludicrous 
 
 figure which he cut, and exclaimed, " D n 
 
 the fellow ! to leave me to finish his infernal 
 story, of which I know as much as the child
 
 THE CLUBS OF LOKDOK. 
 
 unborn ! But never mind, Selwyn, as Sherry 
 does not seem inclined to come back, let us go 
 up stairs, and I dare say Fox, or some of them, 
 will be able to tell you all about it." 
 
 They accordingly adjourned to the Club 
 Room, and old George, who did not know what 
 to make of the matter, had his eyes completely 
 opened to the whole manoeuvre, when on his 
 entrance, Sheridan rising, made him a low bow, 
 and thus addressed him, " 'Pon my honour, 
 Mr. Selwyn, I beg pardon for being absent so 
 long; but the -fact is, I happened to drop into 
 devilish good company : they have just been 
 making me a member, without even one black 
 ball, and here I am."" 
 
 " The devil they have !" exclaimed George. 
 " Facts speak for themselves," replied She- 
 ridan, " and as I know you are very glad 
 of my election, accept my grateful thanks 
 (pressing his hand on his breast and bowing 
 very low) for your friendly suffrage. And now, 
 if you will sit down by me, I'll finish my 
 story ; for I dare say his Royal Highness has 
 found considerable difficulty in doing justice to 
 its merits."
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 23 
 
 " Your story ! it 's all a lie from beginning 
 to end !" screamed out Selwyn, amidst immo- 
 derate fits of laughter from all parts of the room. 
 
 The old man now sat down, growling, at the 
 nearest whist table; but, in a short time, he could 
 not help joining in the peals of mirth which were 
 occasioned by the trick that had been played 
 him ; and before the evening was over, he 
 shook hands with Sheridan, and kindly bade 
 him welcome. 
 
 Poor Sheridan remained many years a mem- 
 ber, and was the delight of all. He paid his 
 subscription, it is true : that is, twenty guineas 
 the first year, and twelve every succeeding 
 one ; but his account with the house was, 
 alas ! like all his other debts, continually on the 
 increase. When he was turned out of office, 
 the partners who managed the concerns of the 
 club, seeing no chance of their claim being ever 
 cancelled, would fain have Dismembered him ; 
 but his fascinating conversation had made him 
 so many friends, that it was more than they 
 dared to refuse him a bottle when he called for 
 it ; or to forget to lay a knife and fork for
 
 24 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 him, when the members chose to dine together 
 on grand occasions. 
 
 There is no doubt but Sheridan would have 
 paid all his debts if it lay within his power to 
 do so ; but his wishes on that score, compared 
 with his well-known want of economy, were like 
 Paine's simile of Mr. Pitt's theory of Finance : 
 viz. that the power of the Sinking Fund to 
 redeem the national debt was like that of a 
 man with a wooden leg, trying to overtake a 
 hare : the longer he ran, the farther he was be- 
 hind ! Mr. Sheridan was sufficiently sensible 
 that some apology, or " promise to pay," was 
 due to the proprietors ; and he never failed, on 
 proper occasions, to amuse them with flattering 
 prospects of the future. In these, he deceived 
 himself more than those whom he attempted 
 to cajole ; still, he was at all times a welcome 
 guest at Brookes's ; for the gentlemen above 
 alluded to, continued to grant that with a good 
 grace, which they could not refuse nor with- 
 draw without considerable offence to the oldest 
 and most respected members.
 
 LIGHTING FITZGERALD. 25 
 
 II. 
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 
 
 WHILST on the subject of sinister admission 
 to the club, the writer cannot do better than 
 relate the very singular and whimsical manner in 
 which Mr. George Robert Fitzgerald forced his 
 way into Brookes's. This personage, it is well 
 known, though nearly related to one of the first 
 families in Ireland, (Leinster,) was publicly ex- 
 ecuted in the year 1786, for a murder which 
 he had coolly premeditated ; and which he and 
 others had perpetrated in a most cruel and 
 cowardly manner. 
 
 The fame, or rather infamy, which encircled 
 his brows, from having been the survivor in 
 a great many duels, became, at length, the 
 cause of the most ferocious haughtiness ; and
 
 26 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 greatly increased his overbearing and quarrel- 
 some disposition. His duelling propensities, 
 however, kept him out of all the first clubs in 
 London, and rendered him at once, both an 
 object of terror and of hatred ; and even when 
 he was introduced at the Court of France, 
 where single combat was not so much repre- 
 hended as in Great Britain, the young Mo- 
 narch, (the unfortunate Louis XVI.,) could 
 not help showing his abhorrence of a professed 
 duellist, by uttering a most deserved sarcasm 
 on Fitzgerald, and by refusing to admit him 
 a second time to his levee. 
 
 The gentleman who introduced him (the 
 English Ambassador,) having said, " I have the 
 honour to introduce to your Majesty, Mr. Fitz- 
 gerald, an Irishman of high descent; who, 
 in his time, has successfully fought no less 
 than eighteen duels, and always killed his 
 man ;" the King replied, " Monsieur L'Ambas- 
 sadeur, I have read your famous English 
 history of Jack the Giant Killer ; and I think, 
 it may be greatly improved by adding this 
 Irishman's life by way of appendix.-*-Let him
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 27 
 
 retire !" His Majesty further observed to the 
 Ambassador, in the duellist's hearing, that if 
 Mr. Fitzgerald showed a disposition to quarrel 
 with any of his subjects, he should order him 
 to quit France in twenty-four hours. 
 
 But, to avoid further digression, the writer 
 has to state, that Fitzgerald having once ap- 
 plied to Admiral Keith Stewart to propose 
 him as a candidate for Brookes's, the wor- 
 thy admiral well knowing, that he must 
 either fight or comply with his request, chose 
 the latter alternative. Accordingly, on the 
 night in which the balloting was to take place, 
 (which was only a mere form in this case ; for 
 even Keith Stewart himself had resolved to 
 blackball him,) the duellist accompanied the 
 gallant admiral to St. James's-street, and waited 
 in the room below, whilst the suffrages were 
 taking, in order to know the issue. 
 
 The ballot was soon over ; for without hesita- 
 tion, each member threw in a blackball; and 
 when the scrutiny took place, the company were 
 not a little amazed, to find not even one white 
 one among the number : however, the point of
 
 28 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 rejection being carried nem. con., the grand 
 affair now was, as to which of the members 
 had the hardihood to announce the same to 
 the expectant candidate. No one would un- 
 dertake the office, for the announcement was 
 sure to produce a challenge; and a duel with 
 Fighting Fitzgerald had in almost every case 
 been fatal to his opponent. The general opi- 
 nion, however, was, that the proposer, Admiral 
 Stewart, should convey the intelligence, and 
 that in as polite terms as possible ; but the 
 Admiral, who was certainly, on all proper occa- 
 sions, a very gallant officer, was not inclined 
 to go on any such embassy. 
 
 " No, gentlemen," said he ; "I proposed the 
 fellow because I knew you would not admit 
 him; but, by G d, I have no inclination to 
 risk my life against that of a madman." 
 
 " But, Admiral," replied the Duke of Devon- 
 shire, " there being no Whitehall in, the box, he 
 must know, that you have blackballed him as 
 well as the rest, and he is sure to call you out, 
 at all events."
 
 FIGHTING FITZGEBALD. . 29 
 
 This was a poser for the poor Admiral, who 
 sat silent for a few seconds, amidst the half- 
 suppressed titter of the members. At length, 
 joining in the laugh against himself, he ex- 
 claimed, " Upon my soul ! a pleasant job I 've 
 got into. D n the fellow ! No matter ! I 
 won't go: let the waiter tell him, that there 
 was one black ball, and that his name must be 
 put up again if he wishes it." 
 
 This plan appeared so judicious, that all 
 concurred in its propriety. Accordingly, the 
 waiter was in a few minutes after despatched 
 on the mission. 
 
 In the meantime, Mr. Fitzgerald showed evi- 
 dent symptoms of impatience at being kept 
 so long from his " dear friends" above-stairs ; 
 and frequently rang the bell, to know the state 
 of the poll. On the first occasion, he thus ad- 
 dressed the waiter who answered his summons : 
 " Come here, my tight little fellow ; do you 
 know if I am chose yet ?" 
 
 " I really can't say, Sir," replied the young 
 man " but I '11 see."
 
 30 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 "There's a nice little man: be quick d'ye 
 see ; and I '11 give ye sixpence when ye come 
 with the good news." 
 
 Away went the little man ; but he was in no 
 hurry to come back : for he, as well as his 
 fellows, were sufficiently aware of Fitzgerald's 
 violent temper, and wished to come in contact 
 with him as seldom as possible. 
 
 The bell rang again and to another waiter, 
 the impatient candidate put the same question : 
 " Am I chose yet, waither ?" 
 
 " The balloting is not over yet, Sir, 11 re- 
 plied the man. 
 
 " Not over yet !" exclaimed Fitzgerald ; " but 
 sure, there is no use of balloting at all, when 
 my dear friends are all unanimous for me to 
 come in. Run ; my man, and let me know how 
 they are getting on." 
 
 After the lapse of another quarter of an hour, 
 the bell was rung so violently as to produce 
 a contest among the poor servants, as to whose 
 turn it was next to visit the lion in his den ! 
 and Mr. Brookes, seeing no alternative but re- 
 solution, took the message from the waiter, who
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 31 
 
 was descending the staircase, and boldly en- 
 tered the room with a coffee-equipage in his 
 hand. " Did you call for coffee, Sir ?" said 
 Mr. Brookes smartly, 
 
 " D n your coffee, Sur ! and you too:" an- 
 swered Mr. Fitzgerald, in a voice which made 
 the host's blood curdle in his veins. " I want 
 to know, Sur, and that without one momenfs 
 delay, Sur, if I'm chose yet ?" 
 
 " Oh, Sir '." replied Mr. Brookes, who trem- 
 bled from head to foot, but attempted to smile 
 away the appearance of fear : " I beg your 
 pardon, Sir ; but I was just coming to an- 
 nounce to you, Sir,-^with Admiral Stewart's 
 compliments, Sir, that unfortunately, there 
 was one black ball in the box, Sir : and con- 
 sequently by the rules of the club, Sir, no 
 candidate can be admitted without a new elec- 
 tion, Sir ; which cannot take place by the 
 standing regulations of the Club, Sir until 
 one month from this time, Sir !" 
 
 During this address, Fitzgerald's irascibi- 
 lity appeared to undergo considerable molli- 
 fication ; and, at its conclusion, the terrified
 
 32 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 landlord was not a little surprised and pleased 
 to find his guest shake him by the hand, which 
 he squeezed heartily between his own two, 
 saying, " My dear Mr. Brookes, I'm chose ! and 
 I give ye much joy; for I '11 warrant ye '11 find 
 me the best customer in your house ! but there 
 must be a small matter of a mistake in my elec- 
 tion ; and as I should not wish to be so ungen- 
 teel as to take my sate among my dear friends 
 above-stairs, until that mistake is duly rectified, 
 you'll just step up and make my compliments 
 to the gentlemen, and say, as it is only a mis- 
 take of one black ball, they will be so good as 
 to waive all ceremony on my account, and pro- 
 ceed to re-elect their humble servant without 
 any more delay at all ; so now, my dear Mr. 
 Brookes, you may put down the coffee, and I'll 
 be drinking it while the new election is going 
 on!" 
 
 Away went Mr. Brookes, glad enough to 
 escape with whole bones, for this time at least. 
 On announcing the purport of his errand to the 
 assembly above-stairs, many of the members 
 were panic-struck, for they clearly foresaw that
 
 FIGHTING F1TZGKRALD. 63 
 
 some disagreeable circumstance was likely to 
 be the finale of the farce which they had been 
 playing. Mr. Brookes stood silent for some 
 minutes, waiting for an answer, whilst several of 
 the members, whispered and laughed in groupes 
 at the ludicrous figure which they all cut. At 
 length, the Earl of March (afterwards Duke of 
 Queensbury) said aloud, " Try the effect of 
 two black balls : d n his Irish impudence, 
 if two balls don't take effect upon him, I 
 don't know what will." This proposition 
 met with unanimous approbation, and Mr. 
 Brookes was ordered to communicate accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 On re-entering the waiting-room, Mr. Fitz- 
 gerald rose hastily from his chair, and seizing 
 him by the hand, eagerly inquired, " Have 
 they elected me right, now, Mr. Brookes ?" 
 
 " I hope no offence, Mr. Fitzgerald," said 
 the landlord ; " but I am sorry to inform you 
 that the result of the second balloting is that 
 two black balls were dropped in, Sir." 
 
 " By J s, then," exclaimed Fitzgerald, 
 
 " there 's now two mistakes instead of one. Go 
 
 VOL. i. D
 
 34 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 back, my dear friend, and tell the honourable 
 members that it is a very uncivil thing to keep 
 a gentleman waiting below stairs, with no one 
 to keep him company but himself, whilst they 
 are enjoying themselves with their champaigne, 
 and their cards, and their tokay, up above. 
 Tell them to try again, and I hope they will 
 have better luck this time, and make no more 
 mistakes, because it 's getting late, and I worft 
 be chose to-night at all. So, now, Mr. Brookes, 
 be off with yourself, and lave the door open till 
 I see what despatch you make." 
 
 Away went Mr. Brookes, for the last time. 
 On announcing his unwelcome errand, every one 
 saw that palliative measures only prolonged the 
 dilemma ; and General Fitzpatrick proposed 
 that Brookes should tell him, " His cause was 
 hopeless, for that he was black balled all over, 
 from head to foot, and it was hoped by all the 
 members that Mr. Fitzgerald would not persist 
 in thrusting himself into society where his com- 
 pany was declined." 
 
 This message, it was generally believed,
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 5 
 
 would prove a sickener, as it certainly would 
 have done to any other candidate under similar 
 circumstances. Not so, however, to Fitzge- 
 rald, who no sooner heard the purport of it, 
 than he exclaimed, " Oh, I perceive it is a mis- 
 take altogether, Mr. Brookes, and I must see 
 to the rectifying of it myself ; there 's nothing 
 like dating with principals ; and so I '11 step 
 up at once and put this thing to rights, without 
 any more unnecessary delay." 
 
 In spite of Mr. Brookes's remonstrance that 
 his entrance into the Club-room was against all 
 rule and etiquette, Fitzgerald found his way 
 up stairs, threatening to throw the landlord 
 over the banisters for endeavouring to stop 
 him. He entered the room without any further 
 ceremony than a bow ; saying to the mem- 
 bers, who indignantly rose up at this most unex- 
 pected intrusion, " Your servant, Gentlemen ! 
 I beg ye will be sated" 
 
 Walking up to the fire-place, he thus address- 
 ed Admiral Stewart: " So, my dear Admiral, 
 Mr. Brookes informs me that I have been elect- 
 ed three times." 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " You have been balloted for, Mr. Fitz- 
 gerald, but I am sorry to say you have not 
 been chosen," said Stewart. 
 
 " Well, then," replied the duellist, " did 
 you black-ball me ?" 
 
 " My good Sir," answered the Admiral, 
 " how could you suppose such a thing !" 
 
 " Oh, I supposed no such thing, my dear 
 fellow, I only want to know who it was that 
 dropped the black balls in by accident, as it 
 were. 1 ' 
 
 Fitzgerald now went up to each individual 
 member, and put the same question seriatim, 
 " Did you black-ball me, Sur ? w until he made 
 the round of the whole club ; and it may well 
 be supposed, that in every case he obtained 
 similar answers to that of the Admiral. When 
 he had finished his inquisition, he thus address- 
 ed the whole body, who preserved as dead and 
 dread a silence as the urchins at a parish school 
 do on a Saturday, when the pedagogue orders 
 half a score of them to be horsed for neglecting 
 their catechism, which they have to repeat to 
 the parson on Sunday : " You see, gentlemen,
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 37 
 
 that as none of ye have blackballed me, I must 
 be chose; and it is Misthur Brookes that has 
 made the mistake. But I was convinced of it 
 from the beginning, and I am only sorry that 
 so much time has been lost as to prevent 
 honourable gentlemen from enjoying each 
 other's good company sooner. Waither /come 
 here you raskal, and bring me a bottle of 
 champaigne, till I drink long life to the club, 
 and wish them joy of their unanimous elec- 
 tion of a rael gentleman by father and mother, 
 
 and " This part of Fitzgerald's address 
 
 excited the risible muscles of every one present, 
 but he soon restored them to their former lugu- 
 brious position, by casting around him a fero- 
 cious look, and saying in a voice of thunder, 
 " and who never missed his man /Go for the 
 champaigne, Waither; and d'ye hear, Sur, tell 
 your Masthur, Misthur Brookes that is, not to 
 make any more mistakes about black-balls; for 
 though it is below a gentleman to call him out, 
 I will find other manes of giving him a bagfull 
 of broken bones !" 
 
 The members now saw that there was nothing
 
 38 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 for it but to send the intruder to Coventry, 
 which they appeared to do by tacit agreement ; 
 for, when Admiral Stewart departed, which he 
 did almost immediately, Mr. Fitzgerald found 
 himself completely cut by all " his dear friends." 
 The gentlemen now formed themselves into 
 groupes at the several whist tables; and no 
 one chose to reply to his observations, nor to 
 return even a nod to the toasts and healths 
 which he drank whilst discussing three bottles 
 of the sparkling liquor, which the terrified wai- 
 ter placed before him, in succession. At length, 
 finding that no one would communicate with 
 him in either kind. either for drinking or for 
 fighting, he arose, and making a low bow, took 
 his leave as follows : 
 
 " Gentlemen, I bid you all good night ; I 
 am very glad to find ye so sociable ; I '11 take 
 care to come earlier next night, and we '11 have 
 a little more of it, piase G d." 
 
 The departure of this bully was a great relief 
 to every one present ; for, the restraint caused 
 by his vapouring and insolent behaviour was 
 most intolerable. The conversation immedi-
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 6\) 
 
 ately became general, and it was unanimously 
 agreed that half a dozen stout constables should 
 be in waiting the next evening to lay him by 
 the heels and bear him off to the watch-house, 
 if he attempted again to intrude. Of some 
 such measure Fitzgerald seemed to be aware, 
 for he never showed himself at Brookes's again, 
 though he boasted everywhere that he had 
 been unanimously chosen a member of the 
 club! 
 
 The writer trusts that none of his readers 
 are impressed with the idea, that want of per- 
 sonal courage on the part of any member, con- 
 tributed in the smallest degree to prevent Fitz- 
 gerald from being kicked out of a society into 
 which he had so unwarrantably thrust himself: 
 more particularly when he considers that the 
 whole affair was so eccentric as to create mirth 
 rather than a desire to inflict chastisement ; and 
 that many, particularly the junior members, 
 had no small curiosity to witness the termi- 
 nation of an adventure so impudently and so 
 ludicrously carried on. But, these conside- 
 rations apart, it is not to be supposed that
 
 40 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 men whose courage, on ordinary occasions, 
 might easily be " screwed up to the sticking 
 point," should be very ready, as Admiral Stew- 
 art expressed it, " to risk their lives against that 
 of a madman." Moreover, in addition to the 
 well-founded and rational dislike which many 
 men have to duelling, family considerations, and 
 a natural love of life, were sufficient to deter any 
 man of sense from encountering the fighting 
 Fitzgerald^ either with sword or pistol; for, 
 being a really good swordsman and marksman, 
 and being accounted almost invulnerable in his 
 own person, the result of a combat with him 
 ceased to be an affair of chance, but amounted 
 to a dead certainty. Is it surprising then, that 
 no gentleman should have had the hardihood to 
 espouse the cause of all, by throwing away his 
 own life on the desperate chance of overcoming 
 a professed bully ? 
 
 Those readers who are not aware of other 
 particulars in Mr. Fitzgerald's history, will ex- 
 press their wonder at his extraordinary success 
 as a duellist ; and that too, not so much from
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 41 
 
 his prowess, as that he should so constantly 
 have escaped, almost without a hurt ! Could 
 this enigma have been explained in the early 
 part of his career, his name would not have 
 conveyed so much terror to the hearts of those 
 who had the misfortune to fall into his company. 
 George Robert Fitzgerald has been compared 
 to Lord Camelford; but there is no possible 
 resemblance, for though the latter fought se- 
 veral duels, it is well known that he generally 
 had sufficient provocation, and that he received 
 many insults which he never thought worthy 
 of public notice: in short, his general deport- 
 ment was mild, and he never sought a quarrel ; 
 for which Fitzgerald was on the constant look- 
 out. Camelford likewise, had a most generous 
 heart ; for, whilst the attention of the fashion- 
 able world was taken up with his eccentricities, 
 he was in the habit of performing many private 
 charitable acts among those of the poor who 
 were ashamed to beg. His charities were in- 
 variably administered under an assumed name ; 
 and he never failed to threaten those whose
 
 42 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 curiosity he suspected, with a suspension of 
 their salary, if they dared to follow him or 
 tried to find out who their benefactor was. 
 
 He usually went on such expeditions at 
 night ; and he has often left a crowded and bril- 
 liant assembly, to dress himself in an old brown 
 coat and slouched hat, in order to visit some 
 poor family in the crowded courts between 
 Drury Lane and Charing Cross. In such deeds 
 as these, and at an expense of several thousands 
 a year, did this unaffected philanthropist pass 
 the hours which he stole from the dissipation 
 of high life ; and his protegees were not aware 
 of the name or quality of their benefactor, 
 until his untimely fate put a period to his 
 munificent donations. 
 
 That Mr. Fitzgerald (unlike his country- 
 men, generally,) was totally devoid of gene- 
 rosity, no one who ever knew him will doubt ; 
 therefore, there is no point of resemblance 
 between him and the nobleman above-men- 
 tioned not even in the mode of meeting his 
 antagonist. Camelford came into the field
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 43 
 
 with all parts of his person equally exposed, and 
 really braved death : indeed it is an insult to 
 his memory, to mention them together. Fitz- 
 gerald on all such occasions had his chest, 
 &c. cased in a steel cuirass, as the following 
 circumstance will prove : it will at the same 
 time sufficiently account for his extraordinary 
 success. 
 
 He once provoked a gentleman, (Major Cun- 
 ningham, an old friend of the writer's,) to fight 
 him. The weapon agreed on was the small sword; 
 and both parties, for some time, appeared to be 
 well-matched: at length, a judiciously aimed 
 thrust at Fitzgerald's breast would have laid 
 him upon the turf, had not the Major's sword 
 bent round and snapped in two, near the mid- 
 dle, owing to the point striking forcibly 
 against a polished hard surface. Enraged at such 
 a dishonourable and cowardly resource, Cun- 
 ningham pulled off his hat, and flinging it with 
 all his might in Fitzgerald's face, exclaimed, 
 " You infernal rascal ! so, this is the way in 
 which you have been enabled to overcome so many
 
 44 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 brave men : but / shall take care that you fight 
 no more duels ! Cowardly dog !" As he ut- 
 tered the last words, he rushed towards him, in 
 order to despatch him with the remaining part 
 of the sword which he still held in his hand ; 
 but Fitzgerald turning round, took to his heels 
 with all his might, and, running across several 
 fields, took shelter in a farm house. His op- 
 ponent eagerly pursued him, followed by the 
 amazed seconds, who could by no means com- 
 prehend the cause of this mysterious chase. 
 
 When they arrived at the cottage, the gentle- 
 man mounted the stairs, and searched all around 
 for several minutes, but the redoubted hero was 
 no where to be found : he had escaped by jump- 
 ing out of a back window, at the very instant 
 his antagonist had entered the house.* 
 
 * The probability of this account has been questioned 
 in a popular Weekly Journal : the writer, however, 
 assures the public that it is strictly and circumstantially 
 true; for which reason he has inserted the name of 
 Fitzgerald's antagonist. As to the fact of Fitzgerald's 
 taking to his heels when Cunningham's sword was 
 broken, that is easily accounted for by the shame of 
 detection in his unfair and ungentlemanly practices.
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 45 
 
 Soon after this occurrence, Fitzgerald fell 
 a victim to his ferocious disposition, and pe- 
 rished by the hands of a common hangman. 
 In his wardrobe, after his death, were found 
 several cuirasses, constructed of iron or steel 
 plates, lined with flannel : and several of his 
 coats, &c. were found to be what is technically 
 termed papered; that is, wadded and quilted 
 with sheets of that material. Thus, the 
 whole conduct of his life confirms the opi- 
 nion of a celebrated philosopher, " That what- 
 ever may be the physical strength of a bully, 
 he has no moral courage ; for, however fierce 
 his demeanour, he is surely a coward at heart."
 
 46 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 III. 
 
 NOCTES FOXIAN./E. No. I. 
 
 NOT only as the leader of Opposition, but 
 likewise as a philosopher, a bon vivant, and a 
 wit of the first order, was Mr. Fox esteemed 
 by every gentlemen who frequented Brookes's. 
 His acuteness of observation, profundity of 
 thought, and extensive knowledge of almost 
 every subject, joined to his courteous and 
 affable deportment, rendered him the revered 
 oracle of the Club. The greatest deference 
 was at all times paid to his opinions ; and he 
 himself was held in such general respect, that 
 his presence often acted as a check to the oc- 
 casional ebullitions of levity on the part of the 
 junior members: so much, indeed, was this
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 4-7 
 
 great statesman held in consideration, that, 
 though he had married the well-known Mrs. 
 Armstead, respecting whom their remarks pre- 
 viously had often been pretty free; still, after 
 that lady became Mrs. Fox, no man ever opened 
 his mouth respecting her, even with the most 
 qualified censure ; nor did they even allude to 
 the former passages of her life : by becoming 
 the wife of this illustrious man, her character 
 became sacred. 
 
 Mr. Fox's conversation was on all occasions 
 a great treat ; for he displayed so much politi- 
 cal sagacity and benevolent feeling in his ob- 
 servations, that, like those of the philosophers 
 of old, they were listened to with grateful at- 
 tention by all who could conveniently obtain 
 a seat near him. The Prince of Wales was 
 his favourite pupil ; and to him were directed 
 many useful and important observations on the 
 duties of a sovereign, and the rights of a free 
 people. 
 
 Brought up, as it were, at the " feet of Ga- 
 maliel," the Prince enjoyed opportunities of im- 
 bibing instruction that fall to the lot of very
 
 48 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 few. During his father's reign, or rather until 
 the Regency, being without any public employ- 
 ment, he had no means of displaying his ta- 
 lents or acquirements; and, unfortunately, at 
 that period the existing ministry took care that 
 the grand condition for entrusting him with 
 power, should be, that, from that moment, he 
 would withdraw himself totally from the Whigs, 
 and implicitly submit himself to their own direc- 
 tion, where direction should be thought neces- 
 sary. This was the true cause of the appearance 
 of ingratitude to his quondam friends and asso- 
 ciates, on the part of an otherwise amiable 
 man; and that he has always been so, every 
 one who has had an opportunity of witnessing 
 his actions in private life, can amply and con- 
 scientiously testify. 
 
 Of such conversations as are above-men- 
 tioned, the reader shall now be presented with 
 a specimen, and they shall be continued occa- 
 sionally during the progress of this work.
 
 NOCTES FOXIANE. 49 
 
 POLITICAL PROPHECIES. 
 
 The novel and surprising circumstances 
 which every day transpired during the early 
 years of the French Revolution, formed the 
 interesting and common theme of conversa- 
 tion in every political circle ; and, of course, 
 at Brookes's, the earliest intelligence of fresh 
 events was anxiously listened to by each mem- 
 ber, and duly commented on, according to his 
 particular views. Whilst the French were en- 
 gaged in bursting the fetters of feudal tyranny 
 which had bound them for ages; when they 
 levelled the Bastille, and put an end to the in- 
 famous Lettres de Cachet ; and when they pub- 
 lished their glorious Constitution of 1789, the 
 heart and hand of every liberal Englishman 
 responded sympathy and applause : but when 
 they insulted, dethroned, and decapitated their 
 Sovereign, whilst faction after faction spread 
 terror, death, and ruin, throughout the king- 
 dom ; when the angel of desolation, who first 
 personated, and then treacherously destroyed 
 the goddess Liberty ! drunk, but not satiated, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 with the blood of her numerous victims, threw 
 off the mask ; when this democratic fiend ex- 
 hibited, to the terrified nations of Europe, her 
 disgusting and horrid aspect in all its native 
 deformity ; when, attired in a red night-cap, 
 and in the ragged and filthy garb of a pois- 
 sarde, she discarded even the appearance of 
 decency and humanity ; when, thus accoutred, 
 and armed with the still reeking axe of the 
 guillotine, she expanded her pestiferous wings, 
 and threatened a flight into the British Isles, 
 many of the friends of the Revolution recoiled 
 with dread and horror, and with one voice re- 
 probated that which they had once so much 
 admired. 
 
 No one felt more keen disappointment at the 
 terrible re-action which took place in France, 
 than Mr. Fox. " The Tree of Liberty," he 
 said, more than once, " has been grafted on 
 that of despotism ; and bitter and unnatural is 
 the fruit that has been produced : the soil, 
 I fear, is not congenial to its growth; for, as 
 Voltaire said of his countrymen, they combine 
 the ferocity of the tiger with the mischievous-
 
 NOCTES FOXIAN.E. 51 
 
 ness of the monkey. The French have been so 
 long sunk in the abyss of misery, as to be 
 rendered incapable of enjoying true liberty." 
 
 When the news of the stoppage and capture 
 of Louis XVI. at Varennes, arrived in London, 
 universal consternation was spread among those 
 who had fondly hoped that he had escaped 
 the toils of his turbulent enemies, by passing 
 the frontier. Mr. Fox was one of those ; not 
 that he wished the French king to become a 
 rallying point to the emigrants, who were ready 
 to invade their native country at the head of an 
 army of foreigners, and to bring back the an- 
 cient order of things ; but he felt pleased, that 
 this good-natured, weak, and unfortunate mo- 
 narch should thus have his life and liberty en- 
 sured ; of which, whilst he remained in his own 
 country, he was not certain for one moment. 
 
 " The die is cast," he exclaimed, when he 
 heard of the capture : " the King of France is 
 a prisoner in the hands of his own subjects, 
 and they will soon bring him to the block ! Ah ! 
 poor King ! Little did you think, whilst you 
 were assisting the Americans to break their 
 E 2
 
 52 THE CLUBS OF LOKDOX. 
 
 chains, which pressed but lightly after all, 
 that you were forging fetters, from which you 
 yourself will be freed only by death. The blow 
 which you gave us in our colonies, now recoils 
 upon yourself; for, your subjects, in fighting 
 for the liberty of foreigners, have learned to 
 appreciate its value to themselves. Where it 
 will end, God only knows T 
 
 " But, Sir," said a gentleman present, " the 
 French will not surely put Louis to death ?" 
 
 " As surely," replied Fox, " as our fanatical 
 Parliament took off the head of Charles. The 
 King of France has already rendered himself 
 contemptible to the powerful party by his con- 
 cessions; but this last act of flight, will cause 
 his sincerity to be suspected by the whole 
 nation ; so that, all future compliances will be 
 considered as mere subterfuge until he can 
 again escape and return with a powerful army 
 to reduce them to obedience. He is now with- 
 out even the shadow of power a prisoner in 
 his own kingdom ; and his enemies only wait 
 a fit opportunity for bringing him to trial and 
 execution."
 
 NOCTES KOXIAN*:. 53 
 
 " But if they even put him to death," ob- 
 served a royal -Duke, " the Dauphin must 
 succeed to the throne ?" 
 
 " By no means a necessary consequence 
 under the new system," replied Mr. Fox ; 
 " for, however the succession may be secured 
 by law, as it stands at present, the National 
 Assembly have it in their power to alter or 
 abrogate that law, as they may think n't, for 
 what they will term the common weal. I think 
 it not at all unlikely, from the sentiments so 
 frequently uttered in the Assembly, and from 
 the wide dissemination of the Declaration of 
 Rights and other democratic writings through- 
 out the kingdom, that France will soon be 
 voted a Republic ; and some bold fellow, or ra- 
 ther some intriguer, like Orleans, will become 
 Dictator. This state of things, however, cannot 
 last long, for the French are not republicans ; 
 they are too numerous, too volatile. They pos- 
 sess neither the gravity and calculating spirit 
 of the Dutch, nor the patience and industry of 
 the Americans." 
 
 " But, what accusation," said the Prince,
 
 54 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " can they bring forward so formidable as to 
 warrant them in putting him to death ; or 
 even in bringing him to trial at all ?" 
 
 " Louis," replied Mr. Fox, " will no doubt 
 be accused of treasonable correspondence with 
 the emigrant Princes ; and, if this be supported 
 by proof, nothing can save him. But, even if it 
 should not, his enemies will not hesitate to get 
 rid of him and the whole of his family, by 
 poison or by the dagger." 
 
 " But why, Sir," continued the Prince, do 
 " you apprehend his death to be inevitable, 
 seeing that he has only done what many others 
 would have done in his situation ?" 
 
 " It is not the mere act of running away," 
 replied Mr. Fox ; " but that, now, all confidence 
 between him and the rest of the government 
 and nation is destroyed. Having it in his 
 power now to give no pledge that will secure 
 pardon for the insults and violence that have 
 been offered to him, the democratic faction 
 will see that there is no safety for them but in 
 the extinction of his whole family " 
 
 " But, may not imprisonment ?"
 
 NOCTES FOXIAN.E. 55 
 
 " No ! an imprisoned king is at all times an 
 object of anxiety and dread, even to the most 
 powerful rival ; how much more so then must 
 he be to these usurpers, each of whom already 
 feels the halter round his neck, or, like Da- 
 mocles, sees the sword suspended over his head 
 by a single hair ? Besides, the encampment of 
 an invading army on their frontiers will only 
 serve to seal, and perhaps hasten, the doom of 
 the unfortunate monarch : for the whole nation 
 is in a state of frenzy ; and, being threatened 
 with punishment, they will do that in a fit of 
 daring and desperation, at which, if left to 
 themselves, they would perhaps hesitate." 
 
 " Would not interference on the part of my 
 father?" 
 
 " These democrats," returned Fox, shaking 
 his head, " are too proud to be advised by 
 Kings ; besides, Louis, by having sworn to the 
 New Constitution, gave them a power over him ; 
 for he is thereby responsible to the nation for 
 all his acts." 
 
 " But supposing a remonstrance were made, 
 and a sufficient guarantee offered ?"
 
 56 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " I fear, Sir, it is too late," replied Mr. Fox: 
 " had the King of France conducted himself at 
 the outset with the wisdom and firmness due to 
 his elevated station had lie gone., heart and 
 hand, in the Revolution, as far as the reformation 
 of abuses and the cutting up of the feudal, or 
 rather seignorial, privileges ; and there taken his 
 stand, saying, ' I am your constitutional King ! 
 thus far have I come, but I will advance no 
 farther, nor 'bate one atom of my royal prero- 
 gative;' had he said this, the French would 
 
 have applauded their grande monarque to the 
 
 . 
 
 skies, and he would have been the most power- 
 ful sovereign in Europe ; whereas, by yielding 
 everything, he is now the weakest." 
 
 " But you must allow, Sir," observed His 
 Royal Highness, " that events were against 
 him." 
 
 " They certainly were," returned Mr. Fox, 
 " and neither he nor his ministers had sufficient 
 ability or strength to stem the torrent of re- 
 volutionary lava that flowed so suddenly upon 
 them from all quarters. The volcano has been 
 labouring ever since the expensive wars of
 
 NOCTKS FOXIAN.E. 57 
 
 Louis XIV., and its throes arc not yet over. 
 Eruption after eruption will take place, until 
 the mountain is exhausted, or nearly levelled 
 with the surrounding plain. France Was di- 
 vided between misery and splendour : the mass 
 of the people toiled without remuneration ; and 
 the aristocracy and clergy became rich, power- 
 ful, and insolent, by extortion, by pillage, and 
 by exemption from those taxes which pressed 
 so heavily on the people. This exclusive sys- 
 tem was unnatural, and the re-action must con- 
 sequently be violent, until the energies of the 
 nation are exhausted, or until the people shall 
 begin to feel the benefit of the restoration of 
 their rights. The time is gone by when a bone 
 would have quieted the dog : he will now fight 
 for the whole carcase." 
 
 " But, Sir, as it was impossible to foresee 
 these events, how could the King or his coun- 
 sellors have prevented them ?" 
 
 " It was very easy to see," continued the 
 statesman, " that the unnatural state of things 
 under the ancien regime could not last. It 
 might easily have been foreseen that the in-
 
 58 THE CLUBS OV LONDON. 
 
 creasing misery of the people must, in the 
 course of time, have had an end, either by 
 general revolt or by general starvation : many 
 of the people themselves foresaw it : the eyes 
 of the nation were gradually opening by the 
 writings of the philosophers of late years, but 
 particularly by the American war ; and they 
 were prepared to assert their rights on the first 
 opportunity that offered. But the Government 
 put off the evil day as long as they could ; for 
 they had no desire to clip the wings of the 
 aristocracy, so long as the taxes were collected 
 and the treasury well supplied. 
 
 " Not, however, that they were not well ap- 
 prised that some great change must occur at 
 some period not far distant. Even Louis XV. 
 foresaw it, and his observation was, I am 
 afraid, but too prophetic of present events. 
 During the contests between the clergy and 
 the Parliament, he came in one day to the 
 Marchioness de Pompadour, in great irritation, 
 saying, * These fellows drive me mad with 
 their disputes ; and because I cannot please 
 both parties, they would vent their rage upon
 
 NOCTES FOXIAN/E. 59 
 
 me, if they dared : unless some measures are 
 projected and acted on, to curb their insolence, 
 they will cut off the head of my successor.' 
 A Princess, too, of the same family had fore- 
 bodings of some such catastrophe. When this 
 modern Cassandra heard some officers who re- 
 turned from America speak of a disorder, term- 
 ed Influenza, which had raged throughout the 
 French army, which many of the soldiers had 
 brought home with them, and which, it was 
 feared, would prove contagious throughout the 
 kingdom ; she said to one of them, ' I fear, 
 General, that you and your troops have import- 
 ed a disease of a still more contagious and terri- 
 fic character, Jndependenza !' 
 
 11 But even our own poet, Goldsmith, so far 
 back as 1760, in his Chinese Letters, foretold 
 the present Revolution in France. He says 
 somewhere, that as the Swedes were making con- 
 cealed approaches to despotism, so the French 
 on the other hand were daily and imperceptibly 
 vindicating themselves \ntojreedom. ' When we 
 consider,' says he, ' that their Parliaments, the 
 members of which are created by the court, and
 
 (>'() THK CI.UUS OF LONDON. 
 
 the presidents acting by immediate direction of 
 the sovereign or minister; when we consider 
 that they presume even to MENTION privileges and 
 freedom, and that till lately they received di- 
 rections from the throne with implicit humility ; 
 we cannot help fancying that the Genius of 
 Freedom has entered that kingdom in disguise. 
 If they have but three weak rnonarchs succes- 
 sively on the throne, the mask will be laid aside, 
 and Prance will certainly befree." 1 " * 
 
 In accordance with the above sentiments, 
 wherein Mr. Fox discriminated between licen- 
 tiousness and liberty, he more than once, whilst 
 advocating the cause of Reform in the House 
 of Commons, reprobated the democratic wri- 
 tings of Paine and others. He was called on 
 to do this, for his own vindication from the 
 insolent aspersions of Mr. Burke, who, after 
 going over to the Ministry, attributed to him 
 and his party the general disaffection to the Go- 
 vernment which prevailed throughout the coun- 
 
 * The Earl of Chesterfield, likewise, who died in 1773, 
 foretold that the French Monarchy would not last to the 
 end of the eighteenth century.
 
 NOCTES FOX1AN-E. 01 
 
 try. On one occasion, Mr. Fox went even far- 
 ther, viz. at the Whig Club, some time in 1791- 
 The apparently successful example of the 
 French Revolution had set the whole kingdom 
 in a ferment ; and nothing short of altering the 
 form of the government, seemed likely to con- 
 tent the democratic part of the public ; among 
 whom, several names of considerable influence 
 had been enrolled. Mr. Fox was alarmed; 
 for he by no means wished to go such lengths ; 
 and he foresaw that even the question of re- 
 form itself was a dangerous subject to be agi- 
 tated at this critical period. He therefore 
 without compromising his principles, resolved 
 to withdraw his sanction from their proceed- 
 ings, which he did in the following words: 
 u However warmly I may have wished and 
 indeed still wish, for reform in the system of 
 our representation, I certainly do not agree 
 with a considerable number of my friends who 
 have revived the question with such spirit 
 and vigour at the present moment. Depend on 
 it, gentlemen, this is not the proper season 
 for agitating this important question. By
 
 62 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 striving for a part, now, we run the risk of 
 losing the whole" 
 
 This candid avowal of his sentiments, how- 
 ever, did not add to Mr. Fox's popularity : 
 indeed, many of his auditors felt considerable 
 offence at what they termed a desertion of the 
 public cause, and a sort of deputation of three 
 of them waited on him next day, to remonstrate. 
 
 He received them in his dressing-room, and 
 in answer to their appeals to his former politi- 
 cal professions, he said, " Gentlemen, I perceive 
 that you are going far beyond the mark : you 
 wish for a revolution, and to establish some 
 sort of republic, or God knows what sort of 
 system, / wish no such thing : and you have 
 mistaken me entirely. But I have no time to 
 discuss forms of government now ; for I am 
 just going under the hands of the barber. Sit 
 down, however ; you may amuse yourselves with 
 a book whilst I am dressing." 
 
 He then directed his servant to go for a parti- 
 cular book, which, having opened, he presented 
 to one of them, with a leaf folded down, saying: 
 " There, Sir, read, read pro bono publico : you
 
 NOCTES FOXIAN.E. 63 
 
 will there find opinions on republicanism which 
 I think you will allow to be incontrovertible: 
 they are the opinions of an excellent man and 
 a sound constitutional lawyer, Delamere, Earl 
 of Warrington. Although firmly attached to 
 William the Third, he delivered that charge 
 to the grand jury of Wiltshire, not long before 
 the abdication of James the Second." 
 
 The gentleman read as follows : " I am apt 
 to believe that those persons who are not con- 
 tented with the government of England, have 
 not considered aright what a commonwealth is. 
 A commonwealth makes a sound and shadow 
 of liberty to the people, but in reality is but a 
 monarchy under another name. For, if monar- 
 chy be tyranny under a single person, a com- 
 monwealth is tyranny under several persons : 
 as many persons that govern, so many tyrants ; 
 but, let it be the best that can be, yet the peo- 
 ple under any commonwealth enjoy not that 
 liberty which we do. 
 
 " Gentlemen, as the excellency of the Eng- 
 lish government is an argument sufficient to 
 dissuade any of us from the least attempt
 
 64 THE CLUES OF LONDON. 
 
 at alteration ; so, experience has taught us, 
 that 7/0 sort of government but that under which 
 tt live., will suit or agree with England. Let 
 us but consider the late troubles : how many 
 several kinds of government were then set up, 
 one after another ! All ways were tried, but 
 nothing would do, till we were returned to our 
 old and ancient way" 
 
 " Well, Gentlemen," said Mr. Fox, " what 
 think you of that ? don't you think that the 
 Earl is in the right ; and, that, instead of 
 adopting the political theories of visionary 
 schemers, we had not better stick to the natural 
 and ancient orders of King, Lords, and Com- 
 mons ? Our Constitution is good, although 
 some of the limbs and organs are rather out of 
 repair; we shall, at a fitting time, do all in our 
 power to restore them to health and vigour ; 
 but, in the present critical state of the patient, 
 I deem it more than dangerous to attempt a 
 remedy. When the time arrives, however, that 
 we can administer a dose of Reform with safety, 
 I shall be happy to join you heart and hand. 
 In the mean time, permit me to relate an anec-
 
 NOCTKS FOXTAN.E. 65 
 
 dote which applies very well to the present 
 business, and to all those who are desirous of 
 pulling down the ancient fabric of our Con- 
 stitution : 
 
 " In the year 1567, when the Scotch fana- 
 tics, headed by that arch-barbarian, John Knox, 
 were desolating their country, by pulling down 
 the cathedrals and monasteries, and destroying 
 the other institutions of their forefathers, they 
 were stopped in their progress, or, rather, they 
 were prevented from completing their work of 
 destruction, by the sagacious remark of a simple 
 countryman. This man, who was gardener to 
 a neighbouring abbey or convent, happened to 
 be in Glasgow when the mob were rushing 
 towards the cathedral of that city and bellow- 
 ing forth their usual war-cry of, ' Pull down 
 the rooks' nests, and then the foul birds reinna 1 
 come back? which signified, that when the 
 buildings were destroyed, the priests, who had 
 fled in every direction, would have no tempta- 
 tion to return at a future period. 
 
 " The gardener, having contrived to arrest 
 their attention, thus addressed them : ' My 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 friends, are ye all mad ? Why would ye de- 
 stroy the cathedral ? why pull down that fine 
 building the ornament of your city ? Cannot 
 you make it a house for serving God in your 
 own way ? for I am sure it will cost you a great 
 deal of money to build such another.' 
 
 " The multitude looked at each other with 
 surprise and shame, for their religious fervor 
 had prevented such an idea from before enter- 
 ing their minds ; they desisted, and having 
 thanked the gardener by loud acclamations, 
 returned quietly to their homes. The cathedral 
 in question was the only one in Scotland that 
 remained entire ; and divine service is perform- 
 ed in it until the present day. Go ye, and 
 do likewise." 
 
 The deputies, convinced of Mr. Fox's poli- 
 tical honesty, thanked him for his plain-dealing, 
 and departed.
 
 NOCTES FOXIAX.E. 
 
 IV. 
 NOCTES FOXIANJS. No. II. 
 
 ELOQUENCE. 
 
 DURING the first years of Buonaparte's career, 
 as General in Chief, and First Consul, it is well 
 known that his proclamations to the army, his 
 addresses to the conquered nations, and his 
 bulletins to the Directory and Senate, excited 
 the admiration of all who heard or read them. 
 
 One of his greatest admirers was Mr. Fox, 
 who, one day speaking of him, said, " If we even 
 shut our eyes on the martial deeds of this great 
 man, we must allow that his eloquence alone has 
 elevated the French people to a higher degree 
 of civilization than any other nation in Europe 
 they have advanced a century during the last 
 five years. Buonaparte combines the declama- 
 v 2
 
 C8 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 tion of a Cicero with the soul-stirring philip- 
 pics of a Demosthenes : he appeals to the 
 head and the heart to honour and to self-in- 
 terest, at the same time. Had this wonderful 
 man turned his attention to poetry instead of 
 war, he would have beaten Homer out of the 
 field. Whatever his manner of delivery may be, 
 and I understand it is impressive, he is certainly 
 the greatest orator that the world ever pro- 
 duced : the soaring grandeur of his conceptions 
 is admirable, and his adaptation of the deeds 
 and sayings of the heroes and statesmen of 
 ancient times, to present circumstances, not only 
 shows the extent of his reading and the correct- 
 ness of his taste in their application; but also 
 serves to assure the French people that he is 
 as capable of governing, as he has proved him- 
 self to be in leading them forth to conquest. 
 But it is in his power of simplification that he 
 shines most: although as romantic as Ossian, 
 he disdains all rhodomontade and circumlo- 
 cution; and, by stripping his subject of all 
 extraneous matter, he reduces the most com- 
 plex proposition down to the laconic simplicity 
 of a self-evident axiom. 1 ''
 
 XOCTES FOXIAN.E. 69 
 
 Mr. Fox's auditors assented to the above 
 opinions, and several gentlemen quoted por- 
 tions of such of the First Consul's speeches as 
 had appeared in the newspapers. One gentle- 
 man, however, contended that their construc- 
 tion was the work of art ; and that true elo- 
 quence consisted in the unsophisticated effu- 
 sions of native genius, which, disdaining me- 
 taphor and all meretricious ornament, found 
 its way to the heart, merely by the simple 
 force of truth. Such was the oratory of sa- 
 vagesof persons who, though living in a 
 state of nature, spoke with a pathos unattain- 
 able by men of education and civilized habits. 
 " For example," said he, " who ever made so 
 touching an appeal to the human heart as 
 the American Indian, Logan, when, after 
 describing the desolation which the English 
 Colonists had made in his family and kindred, 
 he concludes with these words, ' Who is there 
 to mourn for Logan ? Not one ! '* 
 
 * For the benefit of those readers who may not have 
 read this celebrated speech, it is here subjoined. 
 
 " I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he en- 
 tered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat ;
 
 70 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " I grant, Sir," said Mr. Fox, " that the 
 speech to which you allude, is replete with 
 
 if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him 
 not. During the course of the last, long, and bloody 
 war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for 
 peace. Such was his love for the Whites, that his 
 countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, ' Logan is 
 the friend of white men.* I had even thought to have 
 lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colo- 
 nel Cresap, the last Spring, in cool blood, and unpro- 
 voked, murdered all the relations of Logan ; not even 
 sparing his women and children. There runs not a 
 drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. 
 This called on me for revenge I have sought it I have 
 killed many I have fully glutted my vengeance. For 
 my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace : but, do not 
 harbour a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan 
 never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his 
 life. Who is there to mourn for Logan ? Not one !*' 
 
 Tt ought to be observed, that the authenticity of the 
 above speech was called in question, many years ago, 
 by an inhabitant of Philadelphia, who addressed a letter 
 to some of the American newspapers on the subject, and 
 acknowledged himself to be a relative (son-in-law) to 
 Colonel Cresap. It was natural that this man should 
 be desirous to rescue the memory of his wife's father 
 from the damning immortality which Logan's speech 
 conferred upon it ; but, in addition to the high autho- 
 rity of Mr. Jefferson, the late President, in whose His- 
 tory of Virginia and other Southern States, the narra- 
 tive of Cresap's inhuman massacre is to be found, it
 
 NOCTES FOX1AN.E. 71 
 
 pathos and simplicity ; as was the answer of 
 the chief of another tribe, who, being attached 
 to the soil of his ancestors, thus replied to the 
 solicitations of some European commissioners 
 who invited them to emigrate into their towns 
 and cities : ' How,' said he, * can we say to 
 the bones of our fathers, Arise ! and go with 
 us T But savages, like the inhabitants of civi- 
 lized countries, make use of such imagery as 
 the beauties, the sublimities, or the phenomena 
 and awful convulsions of nature, afford them. 
 Of this, we have many instances on record ; 
 but one I particularly remember as delightfully 
 expressive of the paternal feelings of a forlorn 
 old Indian who had lost his only son in the 
 field of battle. Seeing an English captive, 
 whom he had previously adopted and foster- 
 ed as his own child, look wistfully at the tents 
 of his countrymen, on the commencement of a 
 
 unfortunately happened for this defender of rapine and 
 murder, that many persons throughout the United States, 
 and particularly in the South, perfectly remembered the 
 whole transaction. It is singular, disgraceful, that 
 Cresap should have escaped punishment for a crime so 
 dreadful and so notorious.
 
 72 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 campaign, he granted his manumission in these 
 words : ' Go> return to thy father, that he 
 may still have pleasure when he sees the sun rise 
 in the morning, and the tree blossom in the 
 Spring.* 11 " 
 
 * The story to which Mr. Fox alluded, as connected 
 with the above quotation, may be thus briefly related : 
 The old Indian, in a skirmish during our French war 
 in America, had drawn his bow against a young English 
 officer, and was about to transfix him with an arrow ; 
 when he became so struck by his resemblance to his own 
 son, that he suddenly dropped the weapon, and saved 
 him from being destroyed by his countrymen by making 
 him his own prisoner. Having taken him to his hut, 
 he adopted him according to the Indian manner, and 
 treated him with the greatest kindness ; he likewise 
 taught him the language and rude arts of his country- 
 men. This fondness soon increased to such a degree, 
 that often, when gazing on him, he would burst into 
 tears. 
 
 On the return of Spring, the campaign recommenced, 
 and the old man, who was still vigorous, took the field 
 at the head of a party of Indians. Having, after a long 
 march across the forests, arrived within sight of the 
 British encampment, he pointed out to his prisoner, by 
 the grey light of the morning, the tents of his country- 
 men at a distance. " There," said he, " is the enemy 
 who wait to give us battle. Remember, that I have 
 saved thy life ; that I have taught thee to conduct a
 
 NOCTES FOXIAN.E. 
 
 " But," continued Mr. Fox, " the most 
 eloquent appeal to the softer passions which I 
 
 canoe ; to arm thyself with the bow and the arrow ; 
 and to surprise the beaver in the forest. What wast 
 thou, when I first took thee to my hut ? Thy hands 
 were those of an infant : they could neither procure 
 thee sustenance nor safety. Thy soul was in utter 
 darkness ! Thou wast in want of every thing ; thou 
 owest all things to me. I perceive it is thy wish to go 
 over to thy nation ; but wilt thou take up the hatchet 
 against us?"' The captive of course replied that he 
 would rather die than take up arms against his bene- 
 factor ; on hearing which, the Indian, covering his 
 face with his hands, remained silent for some time ; 
 and then, in a voice choked by grief and tenderness, 
 said, " Hast thou a father?" 
 
 " My father," replied the young Officer, " was 
 alive when I left my native country." " Alas !" re- 
 turned the Indian, " how wretched must he be !'' then 
 pausing for a few moments, he continued : " Dost thou 
 know that I have been a father? I am a father no 
 more ! I saw my son fall in battle. He fought by my 
 side. I saw him expire : but he died like a man ! 
 He was covered with wounds when he fell dead at my 
 feet. But I have avenged him !" 
 
 These words were pronounced with the utmost vehe- 
 mence, for the old man would not suffer a sigh to 
 escape him : there was a keen restlessness in his eye, 
 however, and his body shook with an universal tremor ; 
 but no tear flowed to his relief. At length, becoming 
 calm by degrees, he turned towards the East, where
 
 74 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 recollect ever to have heard or read, is con- 
 tained in a Petition addressed to Warren 
 Hastings, by an Indian Princess, in favour of 
 her husband, who had been condemned to die 
 by that ruthless governor. It is signed Almassa 
 All Cawn; but as I recollect merely the tenor 
 of it, I cannot attempt to do justice to the 
 language, which, though adorned in all the 
 
 the sun was just rising, and said: "Behold! young 
 man, the beauty of that sky which sparkles with the 
 beams of day ! the glorious sun, just arisen from his bed, 
 and, arrayed in unclouded splendour, has just commenced 
 his daily journey. Hast thou pleasure in the sight ?" 
 
 " I have great pleasure," replied the officer, " in be- 
 holding so beautiful a sunrise." 
 
 " I have none !" exclaimed the agitated Indian, as 
 tears found their way and ran copiously down his aged 
 cheeks. A few minutes afterwards, he pointed to a fine 
 Magnolio, in full bloom, and said, " Behold, my son, 
 that beautiful tree ! dost thou look upon it with plea- 
 sure?" 
 
 " Yes," replied the young man, " it is impossible 
 not to look with pleasure on so fine an object.'' " I 
 have pleasure to look on it no more !" replied the 
 Indian, in agony. " Go ! return back to the tents of 
 thy father, that he may still feel delight when he sees 
 the sun rise in the morning, and the tree blossom in 
 the Spring !"
 
 XOCTES FOXIAN.E. 75 
 
 grandeur of oriental sublimity, is pathetic in 
 the most affecting degree ; and might have 
 melted a heart of stone. It had no effect, how- 
 ever, with Hastings."* 
 
 * We here insert the beautiful morceau of eriental elo- 
 quence referred to by Mr. Fox : it is a literal translation 
 from the beautiful idiom of the Hindostanee language, 
 but was not published on Warren Hastings's trial ; 
 The murder of Nuncaucar was more relied on in the im- 
 peachment. 
 
 " To the most high Servant of the most powerful Prince 
 George, King of England : The lonely and humble 
 slave of misery comes praying for mercy to the father 
 of children. 
 
 "MOST MlGHTV SlR, 
 
 " May the blessings of God ever shine upon thee ; may 
 the Sun of Glory shine round thy head ; may the gates 
 of pleasure, plenty, and happiness, be ever open to thee 
 and thine ; may no sorrow distress thy days ; may no 
 grief disturb thy nights ; may the pillow of peace kiss 
 thy cheeks, and the pleasures of imagination attend thy 
 dreams ; and, when length of years shall make thee 
 entirely disengaged from all earthly joys, and the cur- 
 tain of death shall gently close round thy last sleep of 
 human existence, may the angels of thy God attend thy 
 bed, and take care that the expiring lamp of thy life 
 shall not receive one single blast to hasten its extinc- 
 tion.
 
 76 THE CLUBS OF LOXDOX. 
 
 " Do you not think, Sir," said a gentleman 
 present, " that Paul's exculpatory speech be- 
 
 " O hearken to the voice of distress, and grant the 
 prayer of thy humble vassal ; spare, O spare the father 
 of my children ; save the husband of my bed, my part- 
 ner, my all that is dear ! Consider, O mighty Sir ! that 
 he did not become rich by iniquity ; that what he pos- 
 sessed was the inheritance of the most noble and illus- 
 trious ancestors ; who, w hen the thunder of Britain was 
 not heard on the plains of Hindostan, reaped their 
 harvest in quiet, and enjoyed their patrimony unmo- 
 lested. 
 
 " Remember thine own commandment the command- 
 ment of Englishmen that thou shalt not kill ; and obey 
 the orders of Heaven ; give me back my husband my 
 Almas Ali Cawn: take all our wealth ; strip us of our 
 jewels and precious stones, of our gold and silver ; but 
 take not away the life of my husband. Innocence is 
 seated on his brow ; the milk of human kindness flows 
 around his heart. 
 
 " Let us, then, go wander through the deserts ; let us 
 become tillers and labourers in those delightful spots of 
 which he was once lord and master : but spare, O mighty 
 Sir, spare his life ! let not the instrument of death be 
 lifted up against him, for he has committed no crime 
 except having vast treasures : by gratitude we had them, 
 though at present thou hast taken them by force. 
 
 " We will remember thee in our prayers, and forget 
 we were ever rich and powerful. My children, the 
 children of Almas Ali Cawn, and thy petitioner for the
 
 NOCTES FOXIAK.E. 77 
 
 fore King Agrippa, is a fine piece of oratory : 
 particularly that part of it, where he says, 
 ' I would to God, that not only thou, but also 
 all that hear me this day, were both almost, and 
 altogether such as I am, except these bonds? 1 " 
 ' " I do, Sir," replied Mr. Fox, "and it strongly 
 reminds me of the intrepid address of a man 
 named Naville Gallatin, formerly a magistrate 
 of Geneva, to the President of a branch of the 
 Revolutionary Tribunal, in that city, which, at 
 the commencement of the Revolution, rivalled 
 
 life of him who gave them life, we beseech thee from the 
 author of our existence, loveliness; by the tender mer- 
 cies of the most enlightened souls of Englishmen ; by the 
 honour, the virtue, and the maternal feelings of thy 
 most gracious queen, whose numerous offspring must be 
 so dear to her. When the miserable wife, thy peti- 
 tioner, beseeches thee to spare her husband's life, and 
 restore him to her arms, thy God will reward thee, thy 
 country will thank thee; and she who now petitions 
 will ever pray for thee, if thou grantest the prayer of 
 thy humble vassal, 
 
 "ALMASSA ALI CAWN." 
 
 This petition was presented by the wife of Almas to 
 Governor Hastings ; but, alas! it had no effect. Almas 
 was strangled !
 
 78 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 those of Paris, Lyons and other towns of France, 
 in the multitude and barbarity of its execu- 
 tions. I shall quote the passage from D'lver- 
 nois 1 Letters, during the perusal of which, it 
 struck me forcibly as being the finest piece of 
 declamation I had every read : so much so, 
 indeed, that the very words are impressed on my 
 memory, and I think I shall never forget them. 
 The undaunted prisoner thus addressed his 
 judges, when sentence of death had been passed 
 upon him : ' And now, mark the fate which 
 awaits you and your accomplices, for, you must 
 not hope that guilt like your's can go unpu- 
 nished. You will find that all the ties of social 
 order, which you have broken to attain your 
 ends, will again be broken by those who succeed 
 you in your crimes and in your power : new 
 factions will be formed against you out of your 
 own ; and as you have united, like wild beasts, 
 in pursuing your prey, so, like wild beasts, you 
 will tear each other to pieces in devouring it. 
 Thus, will you avenge the cause of those who 
 are fallen, and who are yet to fall, sacrifices to 
 your avarice and ambition. To them, as well 

 
 NOCTES FOXIAN.E. 79 
 
 as to me, the prospect of approaching immorta- 
 lity robs death of all its terrors ; but, to you, 
 the last moments of life will be embittered by 
 reflections more poignant than any tortures you 
 can suffer. The innocent blood you have shed 
 will be heard against you, and you will die 
 without daring to implore the mercy of hea- 
 ven f Such, 1 ' continued Mr. Fox, " was the im- 
 pression made by this speech, and such the 
 high character of Gallatin, that his fellow-citi- 
 zens earnestly demanded to be allowed to revise 
 his sentence; but, before the necessary steps 
 could be taken, the tribunal contrived that he 
 and another magistrate should be shot on a 
 remote part of the ramparts, in the middle of 
 the night!' 1
 
 80 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 V. 
 STAGE FRIGHT. 
 
 DELPINI THE CLOWN OF COVENT-GARDEN 
 THEATRE. 
 
 MANY anecdotes are told of this celebrated 
 master of posture and grimace, but none exhi- 
 bit his eccentricity and selfishness (a combina- 
 tion, by the by, generally found in the charac- 
 ters of too many foreign artistes of the Theatre 
 and Opera) in a more ludicrous point of view 
 than the following, which was one evening 
 related at Brookes's by Mr. Sheridan, when the 
 Prince and Duke of York, who knew Delpini 
 well, were present. 
 
 It should be premised, that several members 
 of the Royal Family, and particularly the 
 Prince of Wales, had pressed Sheridan to pro-
 
 STAGE FRIGHT. 81 
 
 cure the insertion of Delpini's name in the 
 books of the Theatrical Fund, in order to secure 
 a provision for his old age. Mr. Sheridan did 
 all in his power to promote the object in ques- 
 tion ; but one grand difficulty was started in the 
 course of the negociation, which even his influ- 
 ence could not well remove : this was, that as 
 Mr. Delpini was merely a clown, he could not 
 be admitted ; for, the laws of the society for- 
 bade relief to any but such as were accustomed 
 to speak on the stage. A remedy, however, 
 was at length suggested, viz : that a few words 
 should be written in the forthcoming panto- 
 mime, for Delpini to repeat ; and thus he was 
 to rank among the Garricks and the Kembles 
 of the day. 
 
 The words in question were only three in 
 number ; and they were to be uttered by Del- 
 pini in the character of a Magician, at the 
 instant that Harlequin and Columbine were in 
 the act of embracing: they were " Pluck 
 them asunder !"" 
 
 Big with the expectation of his pension, but 
 more so with the importance of his new charac- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 ter, Delpini repeated the above short sentence 
 on every occasion, for several weeks, and with 
 every possible variety of accent and intona- 
 tion. There was not a performer in the The- 
 atre whom he did not apply to, to hear him 
 rehearse his part ; so that, at length, every 
 one voted him a complete bore. 
 
 The gentleman whose applause he was most 
 anxious of obtaining was Mr. Kemble ; and, 
 whenever he met him behind the scenes, in 
 the passages, or in the Green-room, he caught 
 hold of him by the arm or by a button, and 
 held him fast, until he had repeated the impor- 
 tant words with suitable gesture and action. 
 One night, as Kemble was standing beside the 
 wing, helmeted and buskined as Coriolanus, 
 and, with truncheon in hand, preparing to lead 
 the Volsci forth to battle, Delpini made his ap- 
 pearance, and thus addressed the Roman hero : 
 
 " Mistare Kembel, I am ver glad I av found 
 you, Sare : you sal see me rehearsal my part." 
 
 " Not now," answered Kemble, "it is im- 
 possible, Mr. Delpini ; do you not see that I am 
 just going on the stage ?"
 
 STAGE FRIGHT. 88 
 
 " But," persisted the grimacier, " I sal not 
 detain you, Sare, un moment ; you sal see dat 
 I prononce mon charactere, proprement; and 
 vith de propere emphasis on de last voard." 
 
 "Well, well!" replied Kemble, pettishly; 
 " begin, begin : I must go on the stage di- 
 rectly." 
 
 " I sal not detain you, Sare, 1 ' returned Del- 
 pini, as he leaned on his right leg, and threw 
 out his arm at an angle of forty-five degrees. 
 Then, infusing into his countenance all the imi- 
 tative rage which it was capable of expressing, 
 he bellowed out, " Plock dem assondere /" 
 
 Poor Kemble, the muscles of whose face had 
 been screwed up to the most heroic pitch, felt 
 his risible chord so tickled by Delpini's lu- 
 dicrous pronunciation and manner, that, at that 
 instant receiving his cue of entrance, he was 
 forced to turn his head aside from the audience, 
 for nearly a minute, before he could address his 
 troops without laughing. 
 
 At length, the awful, important, and ominous 
 night arrived when Mr. Delpini was to make 
 his debut as a speaking actor. To those who
 
 84 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 are acquainted with the nature of what is, 
 among theatrical people, termed stage fright, 
 the writer need not state, that, however per- 
 fectly a young actor may be able to repeat his 
 part by rote, in his own apartment, or at re- 
 hearsal; there is a something, when he comes 
 before the audience, in all the blaze of dazzling 
 light reflected upon his person, that strikes him 
 with terror, binds up his tongue, deprives him 
 of memory, scatters his senses, and roots him 
 to the spot, as if he were in a state of fascina- 
 tion : or, to speak in theatrical terms, " he is 
 stuck fast." 
 
 Such was the case with poor Delpini : he had 
 repeated his little part until he had almost for- 
 gotten it, for it had left no impression upon his 
 mind ; and his extreme anxiety destroyed even 
 the little chance there was of his recollecting it 
 in the time of need. He had spoken the words 
 at least ten thousand times; he had repeated 
 them sitting, standing, walking, lying ; he had 
 rehearsed them to all sorts of persons, and on 
 all occasions, both at home and abroad ; he had 
 given them every variety of form, accent, and
 
 STAGE FRIGHT. 85 
 
 emphasis, of which they were capable but, 
 when the hour of trial came, he was found 
 wanting. 
 
 The performers had crowded around, all 
 anxious for his success, and all ready to prompt 
 him ; but, as Solomon says, " in the multitude 
 of advisers the council faileth," so it turned out 
 on the present occasion. Columbine had flown 
 to her faithful lover, and locked him in her 
 fast embrace : the magician's wand was raised 
 aloft to command their separation ; but no 
 words accompanied the action. Delpini was 
 stuck fast. Voices from every side cried out, 
 " Now, Delpini, now's your time ! fire away, my 
 hearty ! speak, man ! why don't you speak ?" 
 But the magician was, himself, in a state of 
 enchantment ; he was immoveable ; until the 
 prompter's voice was heard above the rest, 
 saying, " Pluck them asunder !" These words 
 shot across his brain like a flash of lightning : 
 he recovered from his trance, and repeating his 
 action with the wand, he roared out " Masson- 
 DERE plock et r 
 
 This ludicrous termination of his arduous
 
 86 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 labours made the theatre echo with laughter, 
 both behind and before the curtain ; and poor 
 Delpini retired behind the scenes, in a state of 
 the most complete discomfiture. Being a little 
 recovered, however, he said to several of the 
 performers who came up to condole with him, 
 their sides shaking with laughter, " Nevere 
 mind, ladies and gentlemens : dose may laugh 
 dat lose ; I av win, and sal laugh to myself. I 
 av gain de pension, by Gar ! and I care noting 
 at all for nobody."
 
 87 
 
 VI. 
 THE ROYAL BROTHERS. 
 
 SEVERAL of the Princes, sons to George 
 III., became members of Brookes's soon after 
 coming of age. The two eldest were of course 
 great favourites with every body ; but this par- 
 tiality was not so much the consequence of their 
 high rank as of their great good-nature and af- 
 fability, their convivial habits, and their uni- 
 formly genteel deportment. They shared large- 
 ly, likewise, in the admiration of the fair sex, at 
 whose tea and card-tables it was often a matter 
 of serious dispute as to which was the hand- 
 somest fellow. Whilst many a maid, wife, and 
 widow, anxiously endeavoured to captivate that 
 gay deceiver that modern Lothario the Heir
 
 88 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 Apparent ; other devotees wished to have the 
 advantages of clerical consolation, and cast many 
 a longing, lingering look on the manly features 
 and comely person of the Bishop of Osnaburg. 
 In short, two finer-looking young men than the 
 Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, were 
 not to be seen in a day's march. 
 
 Equality of rank and similarity of pursuits 
 cemented, between the Prince of Wales and the 
 Duke of York, that fraternal affection which is 
 so commendable a trait in the character of all 
 well-regulated families ; and, though their 
 opinions on many political questions were quite 
 in opposition, that harmony was never disturb- 
 ed. Neither were their amusements entirely the 
 same : the Prince paid his devoirs to Bacchus 
 and Venus, and delighted in the pleasures of 
 good company ; but was never known at 
 Brookes' s whatever he might have done else- 
 where to touch a card or handle a die. His 
 Highness of York went farther ; for he was 
 not only a staunch worshipper of these two dei- 
 ties, but likewise offered many sacrifices to 
 Mercury, by deep and constant play : this has
 
 THE ROYAL BROTHERS. 89 
 
 been so often told to the public, that no more 
 need be said respecting it. 
 
 It being customary for the young bucks of 
 those days to sit late, or rather early r , over the 
 bottle, it was very common, whilst " serpenting 
 home to bed," to meet with odd adventures ; and 
 no less so, to seek them. Tom-and-Jerryism was 
 as much in fashion, if not more so, thirty or forty 
 years ago, as it is now : Tom King was not the 
 only wag who delighted in rousing a sleeping 
 Frenchman out of his slumbers ; and, indeed, 
 lamps were smashed, chairmen bilked, jarvies 
 nicked, waiters kicked, and charlies floored, with 
 as good a grace, and with as much glee and 
 spirit, at that time of day, as by the present 
 race of /r/-hunters. Who has not heard of 
 the poor old washerwoman in St. JamesVstreet, 
 who, whilst proceeding leisurely and soberly 
 to her work, one dark morning, had her nether 
 habiliments tied over her head with one garter, 
 and her lantern fastened round her middle with 
 the other, to light, or rather to shozv her, on 
 her way ? and all for a gratuity of two guineas ! 
 A burning shame !
 
 90 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 Many such scenes could be described, many 
 such adventures related ; but, for the present, 
 one must suffice ; and it is hoped that the catas- 
 trophe which was so providentially prevented, 
 will deter other youngsters from running heed- 
 lessly and needlessly into scenes of manifest 
 danger. 
 
 The Duke of York, Colonel St. Leger, Tom 
 Stepney, and two others, one morning, about 
 three o^lock, came reeling along Pall-Mail, 
 highly charged with the juice of the grape, and 
 ripe for a row. Meeting with nothing worthy 
 of their attention, they entered St. James's- 
 street, and soon arrived at Brookes's, where 
 they kicked and knocked most loudly for ad- 
 mission, but in vain; for, nine-tenths of the 
 members were then out of town, and of course 
 the family and servants had for hours been 
 wrapped in the mantle of Somnus. Our he- 
 roes, however, were resolved on effecting an 
 entrance, and would soon have made one for 
 themselves, if some of the inmates, roused by 
 the dreadful noise, and apprehensive of fire, had 
 not run down-stairs and opened the outer door.
 
 THE ROYAL BROTHERS. 91 
 
 Whilst all possible haste was exerted to effect 
 this on the inside, it was proposed by one of 
 the gentry outside, to rush in pell-mell, and 
 knock down the waiters and every thing else 
 that should impede their progress. No sooner 
 said than done : when they arrived in the inner 
 hall, they commenced the destruction of chairs, 
 tables, and chandeliers, and kicked up such a 
 horrible din as might have awakened the dead. 
 Every male and female servant in the establish- 
 ment now came running towards the hall from 
 all quarters, in a state of demi-nudity, anxious 
 to assist in protecting the house, or to escape 
 from the supposed house-breakers. During this 
 melee there was no light ; and the uproar made 
 by the maid-servants, who, in the confusion, 
 rushed into the arms of our heroes, and ex- 
 pected nothing short of immediate violence and 
 murder, was most tremendous. 
 
 At length, one of the waiters ran for a loaded 
 blunderbuss, which having cocked, and rested 
 on an angle of the banisters, he would have 
 discharged amongst the intruders. From 
 doing this, howeveiv he was most providen-
 
 92 THE CLUBS OF LONDOX. 
 
 tially deterred by the housekeeper, who, 
 with no other covering than her chemise and 
 flannel-petticoat, was fast approaching with a 
 light, which no sooner flashed upon the faces of 
 these midnight disturbers, than she exclaimed, 
 " For Heaven's sake, Tom, don't fire ! it is only 
 the Duke of York P The terror of the servants 
 having vanished by this timely address, the 
 intruding party soon became more peaceable, 
 and were sent home in sedan-chairs to their 
 respective places of residence. 
 
 It has been remarked, since the death of the 
 Duke of York, that he could never be accused 
 of saying one good thing that is, uttering one 
 bon mot ; this is certainly untrue. 
 
 At a dinner at Chelsea Hospital, the bottle 
 had passed round pretty freely. The Duke, 
 who was in high spirits, having just emptied a 
 bottle, said to one of the attendants, " Here, 
 away with this marine" 
 
 Upon which, a general of that body, piqued 
 for the honour of the corps, whom he con- 
 sidered to be insulted by such an observation,
 
 THE ROYAL BROTHKRS. 93 
 
 said, " I don't understand what your Royal 
 Highness means by likening an empty bottle 
 to a marine." The Duke immediately replied, 
 " My dear general, I mean a good fellow that 
 has done his duty, and who is ready to do it 
 again."" 
 
 This neat turn excited great applause, and 
 becoming soon known in the army, has since 
 been repeated with eclat at almost every mess- 
 table in the service. 
 
 His Royal Highness also said a tolerably 
 good thing, which I find has not been done 
 sufficient justice to in a late popular Magazine. 
 General England, who many years ago had 
 the command of the Plymouth garrison, was 
 a man of remarkably large size. With nearly 
 the height of Samuel Macdonald, the Prince 
 of Wales's porter, he possessed almost the ro- 
 tundity of Daniel Lambert. 
 
 The Duke of York having eyed him with 
 amazement, one day at the Horse Guards, ex- 
 claimed to his own Aid-de-camp, as soon as the 
 General had made his bow, and was out of hear-
 
 94- THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 ing ; " England ! Great Britain, by G d ! 
 and the calf of Man to boot!" pointing to the 
 General's huge legs. 
 
 Another very good bon mot is told of him : 
 viz., that when an Irish officer was introduced 
 at the levee, as Major O'Sullivan O'Toole 
 O'Shaughnessy, the Duke exclaimed, turning 
 up the whites of his eyes, " O J s !"
 
 VII. 
 IRISH BULLS. 
 
 IT was a favourite amusement with Mr. 
 Sheridan (as Michael Kelly says of him in his 
 " Reminiscences") to makeybr his Irish friends, 
 and to repeat as theirs, certain ludicrous expres- 
 sions which generally go under the denomina- 
 tion of Bulls; and of these, he would some- 
 times in company drive a whole herd across 
 the table, particularly if a native of the Eme- 
 rald Isle happened to sit opposite to him. 
 That many of these were manufactured for the 
 purpose of exciting a laugh, there can be 
 little doubt : but the following, the writer be- 
 lieves to be too good, even for the ingenuity of
 
 96 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 Sheridan to fabricate at least they must have 
 had some foundation in truth. 
 
 One evening, at the club, the conversation 
 turning on the propensity of Irishmen of all 
 ranks to make blunders, a gentleman present 
 defended his countrymen from the imputation, 
 by saying that the natives of other countries 
 made bulls as well as the Irish ; and he related 
 several instances among the English and Scotch, 
 to prove his position : such as, an advertise- 
 ment that appeared in the London newspapers 
 some years ago, " That Drury-lane was re- 
 moved to the Opera House, until the former 
 theatre should be rebuilt /' and the resolution of 
 the magistrates of Glasgow (some months pre- 
 vious), " To build their new gaol from the ma- 
 terials of the old one ; whilst the prisoners were 
 to remain in the latter, until the former was re- 
 built F He maintained, moreover, that bull- 
 making was by no means a necessary accom- 
 plishment in an Irishman ; for that only the 
 lower orders made blunders, and that chiefly 
 from their habit of thinking in one language, 
 and speaking in another.
 
 IRISH BULLS. 97 
 
 " Very true, my good friend, 1 ' replied She- 
 ridan ; "I grant that the conception of an 
 idea in the native Erse, and the utterance of 
 it in a foreign tongue, (which the English 
 certainly is to the majority of your country- 
 men,) may be the cause of blundering, or 
 mistranslation, if you will have it so, to those 
 with whom the former is the language of 
 infancy, and the latter is acquired by educa- 
 tion : but I have heard so many Irish gentle- 
 men nay, men of taste and understanding 
 make bulls, that I consider this propensity 
 to be not only inherent in all Irishmen, but 
 that it proceeds from that mercurial disposition 
 which never permits them to reflect, so as to 
 examine sufficiently the whole of the subject 
 matter of which they are about to speak. I will 
 give you one or^two instances within my own 
 knowledge : 
 
 I PROMISE TO PAY. 
 
 " A friend of mine, a half-pay Colonel, not 
 very famous for punctuality in pecuniary 
 matters, a misfortune we are all liable to, 
 
 VOL. i. H
 
 98 . THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 God help us ! was pressing another friend for 
 the loan of fifty pounds upon his bill at a short 
 date. 
 
 " ' But, if I advance this sum,' said the 
 latter, * will you be sure to be correct for once, 
 by honouring your acceptance on the very day 
 it will fall due ? Remember, that this is the 
 last chance I shall ever give you : punctuality 
 now, may ensure farther accommodation.' 
 
 " < By St. Patrick !' replied the Colonel, 
 * you may take your Bible oath, that I won't 
 forgit to remember to be as punctual as the sun 
 in shining at twelve o'clock on a hot summer's 
 day.' 
 
 " ' I shall rely on you, then,' said his friend. 
 
 " * Ay, Sir, and you may, do that thing,' 
 answered the borrower, ' for 1 '11 take care to 
 be particular in paying the bill and the expense 
 of the protest, at the -same time.' ' 
 
 This capital bull caused a hearty laugh against 
 the Irish champion ; but the following practical 
 one completely floored him ; and Sheridan, as 
 was his custom when wit. was the weapon, re- 
 tired victorious from the field.
 
 IRISH BULLS. 99 
 
 ANCftOVIES O.V TREES. 
 
 <f A few years ago," continued Sheridan, " an 
 Irish officer, who belonged to a regiment in 
 garrison at Malta, returned to this country on 
 leave of absence ; and, according to the custom 
 of travellers, was fond of relating the wonders 
 he had seen. Among other things, he one day, 
 in a public coffee-room, expatiated on the excel- 
 lency of living, in general, among the military. 
 * But,' said he, 'as for the anchovies, by G d ! 
 there 's nothing to be seen like them in the known 
 world !' 
 
 " * Why, that is a bold assertion,' said a 
 gentleman present ; 'for I think England 
 can boast of that article in as great perfection 
 as any country, if not greater.' 
 
 " ' My dear Sur,' replied the Irishman, 'you '11 
 pardon me for saying that your opinion is 
 founded on sheer ignorance of the fact : excuse 
 my plain spaking : but you 'd soon be of my 
 way of thinking, if you saw the fruit growing 
 so beautiful and large, as I have seen it 
 many's the day.'
 
 100 THE CLUBS OF LONDON 1 . 
 
 " * Well done, Pat !' exclaimed his opponent ; 
 ' the fruit growing so beautiful and large /on 
 a tree I suppose ? Come, you won't beat that, 
 however.' 
 
 " ' Do you doubt the word of a gentleman, 
 Sur y returned the officer. 
 
 " * I doubt the fact, Sir,' answered the 
 gentleman. 
 
 " ' Then, by the Powers ! you only display 
 your own want of understanding by so doing : 
 and I take it very uncivil of you : for I Ve 
 seen the anchovies grow upon the trees with my 
 own eyes, many's the hundred time ; and 
 beautiful 's the grove of them that the governor 
 has in his garden, on the esplanade : besides, 
 the whole of the walls of the fortress are com- 
 pletely covered with them, as all my brother 
 officers could attest at this present writing, 
 were they here to the fore, to do that same.' 
 
 " * Upon my soul,' returned his opponent, 
 laughing heartily, ' you out-Man deville even 
 Sir John himself, and he was no flincher at a 
 fib. He it was, I believe, who asserted that 
 oysters grew upon trees on the Malabar coast ;
 
 IRISH BULLS. 101 
 
 but you give us anchovies, ready pickled, I 
 suppose, from the same source ! Huzza for 
 St. Patrick ! the days of miracles have returned.' 
 
 " ' Then, Sur,' returned the Irishman, bri- 
 dling with anger, * am I to understand that 
 you doubt my word ?' 
 
 " ' You may understand, Sir, what you please ; 
 but, though the licence of travellers is generally 
 allowed to be pretty extensive, you must not 
 suppose that either I or any other gentleman 
 in this company, are to be crammed with an 
 absurdity so palpable, as that of anchovies 
 growing upon trees P 
 
 " ' As much as to say, Sur, in plain terms, 
 that I have tould a lie ? say the word, Sur, 
 and I am satisfied. I 'm not quarrelsome, Sur ; 
 but, by my sowl ! only say that, and you had 
 better been born without a shoe to your foot 
 or a shirt to your back.' 
 
 " ' Neither you, Sir,' returned the gentleman, 
 ' nor any other man, shall compel me to say 
 that I believe that which is by nature impos- 
 sible.' 
 
 " ' Then, Sur, 1 '11 beg lave to address a
 
 102 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 few words to this honourable company ; after 
 which, as my veracity and honour are concern- 
 ed, both as an officer and a gentleman, if you 
 do not retract your words, and own your con- 
 viction that what I have said is true, I shall 
 insist on your meeting me in another place, 
 more convanient, maybe, for settling disputes 
 than this room.' 
 
 " ' Go on, Sir, 1 said the gentleman. 
 
 " ' In the first place, then, gentlemen, upon 
 my honour and conscience ! as I have a sowl to 
 be saved, and to escape the pains of purgatory ! 
 I swear by all the saints in the calendar, 
 and the Divil himself to boot, that I would 
 scorn to tell a falsehood to man or mortal : 
 these very eyes have, on ten thousand different 
 occasions, seen the anchovies, as plump as goose- 
 berries, growing on, and plucked from, the 
 trees, in His Majesty's Island and fortress of 
 Malta. In the second place " 
 
 " ' Impossible !' interrupted his pertinacious 
 opponent : ' I tell you to your face, and be- 
 fore these gentlemen, that you never saw any 
 such thing.' 
 
 " * The lie direct !' exclaimed the military
 
 IRISH BULLS. 103 
 
 hero, ' by the rod of St. Patrick ! it is more 
 than a Christian officer can bear ; but I '11 keep 
 myself cool for the honour of the corps; and 
 I'd advise you, Sur, if you can't be aisy, 
 you 'd better be as aisy as you can ; for if 
 you spaik such another disrespectful and inju- 
 rious word, I '11 not call you out at all ; but, by 
 the powers ! I '11 smite your eye out on the 
 spot, and plaister the walls with your blood ! 
 so you had better take care of yourself, and 
 not be cantankerous, my dear honey. But, to 
 return to my argument, Sur, which you so 
 uncivilly interrupted ; I was going to observe, 
 in the second place, to yourself, that it is a 
 rule in the army, and more particularly in the 
 honourable corps to which I belong, that no 
 gentleman shall presume to doubt the word 
 of another, unless he can positively prove that 
 he is wrong, and that, too, on the spot. There- 
 fore, Sur, even suppose I had tould you a lie, 
 you have no right, by the laws of honour, to 
 challenge me with it ; because you niver were 
 at Malta at all, and, of course, could not see 
 the thing with your own eyes. But, Sur, by 
 way of conclusion to my discourse, I have to
 
 104 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 remark to ye, that you have not only insulted 
 an officer and a gentleman, but an Irishman ; 
 therefore, I trust that every one present will 
 see that I have sufficient raison for requiring 
 satisfaction.' 
 
 " ' Satisfaction ! pooh ! pooh ! for what ? for 
 a mere difference of opinion ? Nonsense !' ex- 
 claimed several of the party. 
 
 " ' I beg your pardon, gentlemen,' returned 
 the officer, ' no difference of opinion at all : he 
 has given me the lie ; and Cornailius O'Flana- 
 gan's own father's son won't take the lie from 
 man or mortal ; even, as I said before, if it 
 was true. Do ye know the way we begin 
 fighting in Tipperary ? I '11 tell ye, if ye 
 don't : Paddy chalks his hat, d' ye see, all 
 round the rim of it ; and down he throws 
 it on the green turf. ' I should like any 
 body to tell me now,' says he, ' that this 
 isn't silvur laice? So, then, away they go to 
 it with the shilelagh : you understand me, 
 Sur, that is our way. An Irishman's honour 
 is dearer to him than his life ; and even, when 
 in the wrong, he 'd sooner die than have a lie
 
 1111SH BULLS. 105 
 
 thrown in his teeth. So now, gentlemen, I '11 
 bid ye all a good night : and as for you, Sur, 
 there is my card, which I shall be happy to 
 exchange for yours. 1 
 
 " The Englishman, of course, gave his ad- 
 dress; and the next day the parties met, attended 
 by their seconds : they fired, and O'Flanagan's 
 shot took effect in the fleshy part of his oppo- 
 nent's thigh, which made the latter jump about 
 a foot from the ground, and fall flat upon his 
 back, where he lay for a few seconds in agony, 
 kicking his heels. This being observed by the 
 Irishman's second, he said, ' You have hit 
 your man, O'Flanagan, that is certain 1 
 think not dangerously, however, for see what 
 capers he cuts.' 
 
 " ' Capers ! capers f exclaimed the Irishman ; 
 ' Oh ! the heavenly Father ! what have I 
 done ? what a dreadful mistake !' and run- 
 ning up to his wounded antagonist he took his 
 hand, and pressing it eagerly, thus addressed 
 him : * My dear frind, if ye're kilt I ax yer 
 pardon in this world and the next, for I made 
 a divil of a mistake ; it was capers that I asw
 
 106 THE CLUBS 01-' LONDON. 
 
 growing upon the trees at Malta, and not an- 
 chovies at all T* 
 
 " The wounded man, smiling at this ludicrous 
 explanation and apology, said, * My good 
 fellow, I wish you had thought of that a little 
 sooner : I don't think you have quite killed 
 me ; but I hope you will remember the differ- 
 
 * On the island of Malta, the caper-tree grows wild, 
 in great plenty, and is particularly abundant on the 
 walls of Lavalette. Ever since the capture of the 
 island, the fruit has been the undisputed perquisite of 
 the officer in command of the engineers. Some time 
 ago that officer complained to the governor that the 
 trees were cut down, and the berries carried away, by 
 the inhabitants; upon which that facetious old gentleman 
 issued the following eccentric order : " Whereas it has 
 been reported to me, by the officer commanding the engi- 
 neers, that the inhabitants of Lavalette have for some time 
 past destroyed the fruit, and cut down the caper-trees 
 hanging on the outside of the walls of the garrison, it is 
 the command of the governor that no one, in future, cut 
 capers, either on the top or sides of the said walls, ex- 
 cept the lieutenant-colonel commanding the engineers : 
 any one found cutting his capers on the walls, after this 
 notification, will be confined in the black-hole for the 
 first offence ; and for a repetition of so flagitious an act, 
 the next capers he cuts shall be his own, at the tail of a 
 calash, to the tune of a cat-o'-nine-tails. 
 
 "GOD SAVE THE KlNG."
 
 IRISH BULLS. 107 
 
 ence between Anchovies and Capers as long as 
 you live. 1 " 
 
 Whilst on the subject of Bulls, the following, 
 which were related the same evening, may not 
 be unentertaining to the Reader. 
 
 BERESFORD'S NOTES. 
 
 In the War in Ireland, in the year 1798, a 
 part of the system amongst the desultory bo- 
 dies of insurgents, was the stopping of mail- 
 coaches and plundering them of all the property 
 they were conveying. 
 
 Of all the loyalists in Ireland, Mr. John 
 Claudius Beresford, a banker of Dublin, was the 
 most obnoxious to the rebels, from the circum- 
 stance of the torture being inflicted by him and 
 his corps of yeomanry, in his riding-house, on 
 many of their body. Whenever, therefore, they 
 discovered any of his notes, they always burned 
 them to vex him ; by which means he would 
 have been exceedingly enriched, had not his 
 other numerous speculations overthrown him.
 
 108 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 THE NEW SUIT. 
 
 An Irish gentleman had ordered a suit of 
 clothes ; but when the tailor brought them home, 
 the coat hung like a sack on him, it was so very 
 large. The gentleman was angry, and remarked 
 that all his acquaintance would laugh at him, 
 and say that "he was not by when his mea- 
 sure was taking;"" adding, " As sure as a gun, 
 you have mistaken big Fitzgerald's measure 
 (the biggest man in Munster,) for mine." 
 
 Waxing warmer and warmer, and throwing 
 in some severe reflections on poor snip, the 
 latter at length replied : " Why put yourself in 
 such a rage, Sir ? blood and Bounds ! is not there 
 enough of the same stuff in the shoot to make 
 it less ?" 
 
 This repartee set all to rights, and a reconci- 
 liation instantly took place. 
 
 A MISTAKE ON BOTH SIDES. 
 
 A poor Irish labourer one day met one of 
 his countrymen in Tooley Street, and accosted 
 him with " Ah ! Tead, how is every bit about 
 ye ?"
 
 IRISH BULLS. 109 
 
 " Bravely, by the hoky !" replied Tead ; 
 " How goes yourself, Darby ?" 
 
 " What the divil should ail me ?" was the 
 answer. " But how long have you been here, 
 Tead ?" demanded Darby. 
 
 " How long ?" says Tead ; " why, since last 
 night ; and when did you arrive yourself, my 
 jewel ?" he inquired. 
 
 " Oh, death and 'ounds ! " replied Darby, 
 " am not I here these eighteen months and a 
 fortnight : but how did you leave the woman 
 and childer and are they minding their school- 
 ing?" 
 
 " In troth then they are," answered Tead, 
 " and as well as you cu'd wish." 
 
 " And when will you be after turning your 
 face towards the ould sod ?" inquired Darby. 
 
 " Why, I'll be with the craters Christmas- 
 eve, any how," returned the other. 
 
 " Then, by Jasus !" said Darby, " if you 're 
 for that, who knows but we \1 be together." 
 
 After this manner they conversed for some 
 time when Darby at length exclaimed, " Why, 
 by the holy ! it is neither of us."
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE'S 
 BLADE-BONE. 
 
 THE old Duke of Devonshire, for several 
 years, was in the habit of supping at Brookes's ; 
 and his favourite dish was a broiled or devilled 
 blade-bone of mutton ; after picking which, he 
 usually drank champagne, punch, or any other 
 beverage that he might happen to prefer. His 
 Grace's partiality for the above fare induced 
 others to follow his example ; and blade-bones 
 were frequently in such request, that the but- 
 chers of St. James's Market have sometimes 
 been unable to afford a sufficient supply. 
 
 One night, Mr. Sheridan coming in late, and 
 being pretty sharp set, called for a broiled 
 blade-bone. The waiter told him that there
 
 DEVONSHIRE'S BLADE-BONE. Ill 
 
 was only one in the house, and that had just 
 been ordered by the Duke of Devonshire. 
 
 " Oh, very well, no matter," said Sheridan ; 
 " I shall think of something else, by and by." 
 Determined, however, to have a blade-bone, he 
 resolved to play a trick upon the Duke, which 
 he did as follows : Going up to the table where 
 he sat, just as the waiter was about entering 
 with the tray and cover, and putting on an 
 expression of great indignation and disgust, he 
 thus addressed Mr. Hare, who sat by the Duke : 
 
 " Upon my soul, Sir," said he, " I never was so 
 disgusted in my life, as with a scene which I wit- 
 nessed a few moments ago. Returning from the 
 house, just by the Abbey my foot slipped, and I 
 fell into a puddle. Being very wet and uncom- 
 fortable, and there being no fire in any of the 
 rooms below, I ran down into the kitchen, where 
 I knew there was a good one. Whilst I stood 
 drying my stockings and breeches, one of the 
 Irish chairmen came in and laid hold of a 
 prime blade-bone that lay upon the table, and 
 began to gnaw it in famous style. One of the 
 cooks, observing this, sprung towards him,
 
 112 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 and seizing hold of it, threw it on the grid- 
 iron, saying, D n your greedy guts, you 
 
 Irish , that blade-bone was for the Duke of 
 
 Devonshire, and we have none other in the 
 house : couldn't you find any thing else to fix 
 your hungry teeth in, you infernal rascal !' Poor 
 Paddy slunk off, vexed at not being allowed to 
 finish his snack, and mumbled as he went 
 out, ' What a thundering row about a durty 
 mutton bone ! I wish it was stuck ' 
 
 " I appeared to take no notice of the 
 circumstance; but was resolved to acquaint 
 his Grace with it, in case the said delicious 
 morceau should be served up : and, by Jove ! 
 here it is!" 
 
 Sheridan's trap was well set ; for the Duke, 
 turning down the corners of his mouth, pushed 
 the tray from him, whilst he turned his head 
 aside and vociferated to the waiter to bring 
 him a glass of brandy. The man did as he 
 was ordered, and was carrying the tray to- 
 wards the sideboard, when Sheridan, who fol- 
 lowed him close, told him to lay it down on
 
 DEVONSHIRE'S BLADE-BONE. 113 
 
 another table, and to bring him a couple of bot- 
 tles of champagne, as soon as possible. 
 
 He then sat down, and, as he a few days 
 afterwards told the Duke and others, " made a 
 glorious supper, for he had been devilishly 
 hungry.'" 
 
 VOL. r.
 
 114 THE CLUBS OF LONDON, 
 
 IX. 
 HONORES MUTANT MORES !" 
 
 THE subject of conversation at Brookes's, one 
 evening, being Ireland and its politics, a gentle- 
 man, who possessed a fund of amusing anec- 
 dote, related many curious circumstances re- 
 specting the government of several of the late 
 Lords Lieutenants; among others, the follow- 
 ing one of the Duke of Rutland, the motto of 
 whose family, being a sort of pun upon their 
 name, has been considered a very appropriate 
 title for the present article. 
 
 " The jovial administration of the Duke of 
 Rutland will be remembered in Dublin for 
 many a long day ; it was marked by that fes- 
 tivity and splendour which ensured the good-
 
 " HONOURS MUTANT MORES." 115 
 
 will of all ranks. The viceroy was, moreover, 
 very fond of mixing and conversing with the 
 lower orders, and many a laughable tale could 
 be told of the eccentric adventures of himself 
 and his jolly companions. 
 
 " One evening, his Grace, Colonel St. Leger, 
 and one or two others, having entered into a 
 public-house in the Liberty, they found the 
 landlord to be so comical a blade, that they 
 invited him to sit down to supper with them. 
 Darby Monaghan, who knew his Grace by 
 sight, took good care that the entertainment 
 should be such as to give every satisfaction to 
 his guests, and he contrived to season it with 
 such an abundant flow of native wit and drol- 
 lery, that they were quite delighted with him. 
 His wine and whiskey-punch were so good, that 
 by two in the morning they were all quite jolly, 
 and ready to sally out into the street in quest 
 of adventures. This, however, was prevented 
 by the politic Darby, who contrived, by the 
 humour of his songs, and the waggery of his 
 jests, to fascinate them to the spot, until, one 
 after another, they fell drunk under the table.
 
 116 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " During their libations, and after Darby 
 had said several good things in succession, the 
 Duke, in a fit of good-humour, and by way of 
 a joke, turned round to him and said, l D n 
 me ! landlord, you are a glorious fellow, and an 
 honour to your country ; what can I do for 
 you, my boy ? (hiccup.) I '11 knight you, by 
 G d ! so (hiccup again) down upon your mar- 
 row-bones this instant P ' Your Grace's high 
 commands shall be obeyed,' said Darby, kneel- 
 ing. The Duke drew his sword, and although 
 Colonel St. Leger endeavoured to prevent his 
 carrying the joke too far, he struck him over 
 the shoulder, and uttered the ominous words, 
 * Rise up, Sir Darby Monaghan !' Darby 
 having humbly thanked his Grace, and sworn 
 fealty to the King of England in a. bumper, an 
 immense bowl of punch was ordered in; this 
 was filled and re-filled, until at length the whole 
 party became blind-drunk, as before stated. 
 
 u The weather being warm, and the great 
 quantity of punch which they had drunk, pre- 
 vented the topers from feeling any inconve- 
 nience from the hardness of their couch, and
 
 " HONORES MUTANT MORES." 117 
 
 they slept as soundly as they would have done 
 on a down bed, either at the Castle or at the 
 Lodge. Darby, who from long seasoning was 
 soon enabled to overcome the effects of the 
 whiskey, rose betimes, and having bustled 
 about, soon prepared a comfortable breakfast 
 of tea, coffee, and chocolate for the sleeping 
 partners of his debauch. 
 
 " When all was ready, not liking to rouse 
 them by shaking .or otherwise, he stepped into 
 the room upon tiptoe, and gently opened the 
 window-shutters. The sun shining in full upon 
 them, they soon awoke from their slumbers, won- 
 dering where they were ! The landlord, who 
 was listening at the door, speedily put an end 
 to their suspense, by thrusting in his black head 
 and nodding to his Grace, assuring him, ' That 
 they were safe and sound, and not a bone 
 broke, in Darby Monaghan's own comfortable 
 and fashionable hotel; also, that if his Honour's 
 Grace and the other jontlemen would just shake 
 themselves a bit, and sluish their faces with a 
 little nice cowld spring water, they might fall 
 to without any more delay ; for there was a
 
 118 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 breakfast, fit for a lord, laid out for them in the 
 next room.' 
 
 " This intelligence was received with much 
 pleasure by the party, who having put them- 
 selves in decent trim, adjourned to the breakfast- 
 room, where they found every thing of the best 
 laid out in homely style : but what pleased 
 them the most, was Darby's attention in bring- 
 ing in a bottle of whiskey under one arm, 
 and one of brandy under the other. Pouring 
 out several glasses, he presented them to each, 
 according to their choice ; taking ' the blessed 
 Vargin to witness that a glass of good sperits 
 was the best maid'cine iver envinted for waek- 
 ness of the stomach, after straitching it with 
 punch the over-night.' 
 
 " Darby's courtesy was taken in good part ; 
 and after he had retired, the conversation turn- 
 ed upon his extraordinary humour. At length, 
 Colonel St. Leger, seeming to recollect himself, 
 said, * I am afraid, my Lord Duke, your Ex- 
 cellency made a bit of a blunder last night : 
 you conferred the honour of knighthood on this 
 same landlord.' Did I, by heaven !' exclaimed
 
 " HONORES MUTANT MORES." 119 
 
 his Grace. ' That you did,' replied the 
 Colonel. c D n it ! how unfortunate ! why 
 didn't you prevent me ?' ( I endeavoured to 
 do so with all my might, but your Excellency's 
 arm was too potent ; and I preferred seeing 
 your weapon fall upon his shoulder, rather than 
 have it thrust into me.' * What an un- 
 fortunate affair!' exclaimed the Duke, rising; 
 ' but I suppose the fellow doesn't recollect the 
 circumstance more than myself: let us call him 
 in. I wouldn't have such a thing reported at 
 St. James's for the world. I should be recalled, 
 and be the laughing stock of every one at the 
 
 Court. B d and 'ounds ! to knight the 
 
 landlord of a common punch-house ! the thing 
 is surely impossible !' 
 
 " ' Both possible and true,' replied the Colo- 
 nel ; ' but let us ring for him, and hear ^what 
 he himself knows about the matter.' Darby, 
 who was in attendance on the outside of the 
 door, heard all that passed, and resolved to 
 resist every attempt at depriving him of his 
 newly acquired honours. On his entering the 
 room, the following dialogue took place :
 
 120 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " Duke of Rutland. I say, landlord, we were 
 all quite jolly last night ? 
 
 " Darby Monaghan. Your Honour's noble 
 Grace may say that same : we drank thirteen 
 whacking bowls of punch amongst five of us. 
 
 " Duke. Ah ! so we did, I believe, thirteen 
 to the dozen, and you supped with us ? 
 
 " Darby. Many thanks to your Grace's Ex- 
 cellency, Darby Monaghan did himself that 
 same honour. 
 
 " Duke. No honour at all, my good fellow. 
 But I say, Darby, do you recollect any thing 
 particular that I did, in the way of joke, you 
 know ; some foolish thing, when we were all as 
 drunk as fiddlers ? 
 
 " Darby. By J s ! yer Dukeship may say 
 that, any how. I dare say the Colonel well re- 
 mimbers your filling up the last bowl from the 
 whiskey jug, instade of from that containing 
 the hot water. By the powers ! I could not 
 stand that ; it set me off, whizzing like a 
 top; and I doesn't recollect one single thing 
 after we emptied it. 
 
 " Duke, (laughing.) Oh, then you don't
 
 " HONORES MUTANT MORES." 121 
 
 remember my drawing my sword, and threat- 
 ening to run you through the body ? 
 
 " Darby. The Lord above for iver presarve 
 yer Dukeship's Highness from crul murder 
 and sudden death, all the days of yer life ! I 
 don't remimberany such thing; but I remimber 
 well the whack yer Excellency's Royl High- 
 ness gave me with that same sword over my 
 shoulder, when ye bid me < rise up, Sir Darby 
 Monaghan.' 
 
 " Duke. You do ? eh ! But that was all in 
 jest, you know, Darby ; and so we must think 
 no more about it. 
 
 " Darby. Long life to your Highness ! but 
 I took it in right arnest ; more by token that my 
 shouldher aches at this moment with the blow : 
 but I mustn't mind that, for it was given upon 
 an honourable occasion, and resaived with good 
 will : so, thanks to yer Excellency for all fa- 
 vours, now and hereafter. 
 
 " Duke. But you don't presume to suppose, 
 my good fellow, that I actually conferred upon 
 you the honour of knighthood ? 
 
 " Darby. By the powers ! yer Highness, but
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON*. 
 
 I do. Sure, I wouldn't be after doing yer 
 Highness such discredit as to think ye meant 
 to break yer royl word to man or mortal. 
 
 " Duke. Oh, the devil ! (z&Jiisperitig.) I say, 
 Colonel, what is to be done ? 
 
 " Colonel, (whispering.) Give him some 
 birth, and make him promise to say nothing 
 about the frolic. 
 
 " Duke. Well, Darby, I don't mean to act 
 scurvily towards you ; I can give you a tide- 
 waiter's place, or something in the excise, that 
 will bring you in about one hundred and fifty 
 pounds a-year, and make you independent for 
 life. 
 
 " Darby, (kneeling, and kissing the Duke's 
 hand.) Let me go on my marrey-bones once 
 again, to thank yer Royl Highness for being so 
 good and marcifull to poor Darby Monaghan ! 
 He'll niver forgit to remimber to pray for 
 yer Excellency to the blessed Saints, on Sun- 
 day or holy day. 
 
 " Duke. Well, then, Darby, it is settled that 
 you give up the title, and that nothing shall 
 ever be said about last night's adventure ?
 
 " HONORES MUTANT MO11ES." 
 
 " Darby. Give up the title ! yer Grace ? and 
 not be called Sur ! after all ? I thought the 
 hundred and fifty pounds a-year was to keep 
 up my style as a true and loyal knight. 
 
 " Duke. No, faith ! you sha'n't have place 
 and title too : so choose without delay. 
 
 " Darby, (pausing.) Well, yer Grace, if yer 
 Excellency plaises, I 'd rather keep the title : 
 for, d 'ye see, it '11 be such a wonderment for a 
 punch-house to be kept by Sir Darby Mo- 
 naghan, that I ""11 soon have all the custom of 
 Dublin city ; and that'll be better than a 
 tide-waither's place, any how. 
 
 " Duke, (laughing.) Well, then, without 
 more argument about the matter, you shall 
 have a place of two hundred and fifty pounds 
 a-year, and you must give up your knighthood 
 this instant. 
 
 " Darby, (going out.) Plase yer Excellen- 
 cy, then, I'll just step up-stairs and ax her 
 Ladyship's advice ; and, I dare say, she 'd 
 rather have the money. So, I '11 inform your 
 Honour's Grace in a twinkling. 
 
 " Her Ladyship was accordingly consulted on
 
 124 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 this important question ; and she wisely, and 
 without hesitation, voted for the income of two 
 hundred and fifty pounds, which they enjoyed 
 for many years. The title, too, stuck by them 
 till the last; for, after the Duke's departure 
 from his Viceroyalty, the affair was bruited 
 abroad, to the great amusement of the mid- 
 dle and lower orders in Dublin, who never 
 failed to address the fortunate couple by 
 the appellations of * Sir Darby and Lady 
 Monaghan.' "
 
 COUNSELLOR DUNNING. 
 
 X. 
 
 COUNSELLOR DUNNING. 
 
 SOON after the commencement of Mr. Broug- 
 ham's popularity in the House of Commons, 
 Sir Thomas Stepney, speaking of him one 
 evening at Brookes's, said that he put him 
 greatly in mind of Lord Ashburton, formerly 
 Mr. Dunning, whom, he said, he resembled, 
 both in person, and as a speaker at the Bar 
 and in the Senate. Besides describing the 
 great talents of this lawyer, he related seve- 
 ral characteristic anecdotes of him, as fol- 
 low : 
 
 Dunning was a short, thick man, with sal- 
 low complexion and turn-up nose ; he had a 
 constant shake of the head, and latterly a
 
 126 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 hectic cough, which gave him great interruption 
 whilst speaking; but even these physical disabili- 
 ties he overcame by the splendour of his genius, 
 and the extent of his knowledge, not only of the 
 law, but of almost every other subject. Al- 
 though an excellent common lawyer, his elocution, 
 which was flowing and classical, partook more of 
 the spirit than of the letter of the laws : in this 
 respect he greatly resembled Lord Erskine ; and 
 in what is termed the Copia Perborum, he was 
 the very prototype of Mr. Pitt. He was, more- 
 over, a complete master of various kinds of style; 
 and not only in many cases set the court in a roar 
 of laughter, by the effervescence of his wit and 
 humour, but likewise delighted in drawing a 
 smile even from the gravity of the Bench itself. 
 He was exceedingly sarcastic, and, with all 
 his learning and eloquence, (like many of the 
 fraternity of the bar,) too often indulged, in 
 the latitude of cross-examination, in the low 
 vice of punning upon the names and occupa- 
 tions of witnesses and others ; as if he had had no 
 other means of ensuring respect and fame, than
 
 COUNSELLOR DUNNING. 
 
 by endeavouring to raise them on the diffidence, 
 the weakness, or the modesty of persons, who, 
 perhaps, never entered a court of law before. 
 For this hateful practice, however, he received 
 several severe rubs from his brother counsellors, 
 and even from the witnesses themselves. 
 
 One morning, he was telling Mr. Solicitor- 
 General, (the famous Jack Lee,) that he had 
 just bought several good manors in Devonshire, 
 near his native village, Ashburton. 
 
 " I wish, then," said Jack, " that you would 
 bring some of them {manners) into Westminster 
 Hall ; for, by heaven ! you often deserve to be 
 kicked for your impertinence." 
 
 In a case of crim. con., a good-looking young 
 woman was interrogated by Dunning in a very 
 rude manner. He made her take off her 
 bonnet, as he said, "to have a view of her 
 countenance, in order to see whether the truth 
 came from her lips .'" but in reality to confuse 
 her in her evidence, which he knew was con- 
 clusive against his client. Having asked her 
 many questions, in the hope that she would
 
 128 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 contradict her former statement, he inquired, 
 whether her mistress (the adulteress) had com- 
 municated the secret of her amour to her ? 
 
 " No, Sir," said the witness, u she certainly 
 never did." 
 
 " And how, then, can you swear to her 
 infidelity ?" 
 
 " Because I saw the defendant in hed with 
 her. 11 
 
 " Indeed !" said Dunning. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Sir," replied the girl. 
 
 " But are you sure upon your oath, remem- 
 ber that it was the defendant ? How do you 
 know it wasn't your master that was in bed 
 with her ?" 
 
 " Because I saw the defendants face, and 
 my master was not in the room." 
 
 " Now, pray, my good woman," said Dun- 
 ning, thinking to silence her at once, " did 
 your master for I see you are very handsome 
 did your master, I say, in return for his wife's 
 infidelity, go to bed with you T 
 
 " That trial" replied the spirited girl, " does 
 not come on to-day, Mr. Slabber-chops" This
 
 COUNSELLOR DUNN1NC. 129 
 
 answer produced a roar of laughter throughout 
 the Court, in which Lord Mansfield, who pre- 
 sided, joined most heartily ; for he was at all 
 times glad to see Dunning receive a Roland 
 for his Oliver. He asked him whether he had 
 any more questions to put ? 
 
 " No, my Lord," said the chap-fallen in- 
 quisitor, settling his wig and sitting down ; 
 " I have done : the witness may retire." 
 
 One day, whilst cross-examining and endea- 
 vouring to bother an old woman, in a case of 
 assault, he asked her, in reference to the iden- 
 tity of the defendant, whether he was a tall 
 man ? 
 
 " Not very tall," said she ; " much about the 
 size of your worship's honour." 
 
 " Was he good-looking?" 
 
 " Quite the contrary ; much like your ho- 
 nour, but a handsomer nose." 
 
 " Did he squint ?" 
 
 " A little, your worship ; but not so much 
 as your honour, by a great deal." Dunning 
 asked her' no more questions. 
 
 Excepting in his cross-examinations, Dunning 
 
 VOL. i. K
 
 130 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 was very tenacious of supporting his dignity 
 as a barrister in the Court ; and he at all 
 times contrived to keep Lord Mansfield in 
 check, whenever he tried to browbeat or to 
 overlook him as an advocate. On several oc- 
 casions, when his Lordship, who had great 
 quickness and tact in finding out the nice point 
 of a cause, took up a newspaper, by way of 
 amusing himself on the bench, whilst Dun- 
 ning was speaking, the latter made a dead 
 stop. This would rouse Mansfield to say, 
 " Pray, go on, brother Dunning." 
 
 " No, my Lord," invariably answered the 
 barrister, " not till your Lordship has finished." 
 
 He had a happy knack of illustrating his 
 arguments by anecdotes, &c., parallel to the 
 cases which were under the consideration of the 
 jury. Pleading one day, to set aside the will 
 of a superstitious old dotard, who had left 
 the whole of his property for building a chapel, 
 and for the extravagant maintenance of the 
 preacher of a sect to which he had belonged, 
 to the utter disinheritance of his own daughter, 
 who had displeased him by marrying out of the
 
 COUNSELLOR DUNNING. 131 
 
 congregation, Mr. Dunning concluded his ad- 
 dress to the jurors in these words: 
 
 " But why need I expatiate, gentlemen, on 
 the enormity and folly of this bigoted parent ? 
 I shall not insult your understandings by say- 
 ing another word on that disgusting subject. 
 But, that you may be perfectly satisfied, how- 
 ever much these selfish people may think them- 
 selves wronged by non-compliance with the 
 terms of the will that the testator's child, on- 
 ly, has a natural, a moral, and a legal right 
 to the whole of his estate ; need I bring any 
 other proof than that of the legitimacy of her 
 birth? Surely not ! I shall not detain you 
 longer, therefore, than by relating a little Spa- 
 nish fable, which I shall leave you to apply 
 as your own consciences may dictate. ' A 
 monkey once stole a gentleman's hat and fea- 
 ther, which he put upon his own head. A 
 dispute arose between the parties. The mon- 
 key called a number of his fellows to prove 
 that the hat belonged to him. The appeal 
 was made to the elephant, as he did not be- 
 long to either of the species of men or of mon- 
 K 2
 
 132 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 keys. The gentleman also, on his part, called 
 a few witnesses to prove that the hat was his 
 property. ' There is no reason, 1 said the ele- 
 phant, ' to waste time in the examination of 
 witnesses : the hat and feather belong to the 
 gentleman.' '" The patrimony was awarded to 
 the young lady. , 
 
 In a case of demur at the excessive charges 
 of a fashionable tailor, the following story, re- 
 lated by Mr. Dunning, had considerable weight 
 with the jury, in reducing the bill : " An 
 officer of the regiment of Artois, in France, 
 who had visited London, was on his way from 
 thence to Paris, and spent a night at the Ho- 
 tel D'Angleterre, at Calais. On examining his 
 bill the next morning, he found that he was 
 charged a guinea for his supper, which had 
 consisted only of cold meat and a bottle of vin 
 du pays. 
 
 " Enraged at so gross an imposition, he sum- 
 moned the host, and insisted on a considerable 
 abatement. ' Milord P said the landlord, * I 
 cannot disgrace a.n Englishman of your rank, 
 by charging him a less price. 1
 
 COUNSELLOR DUNNING. 
 
 " ' Sirrah !' replied the officer, ' I am not an 
 Englishman, nor a man of quality, but a poor 
 lieutenant in the service of the Grande Mo- 
 narque.' 
 
 " ' Morbleu !' rejoined the landlord, ' I con- 
 fess I have made an egregious blunder. I hope " 
 your excellency's honour will forgive me, if I 
 reduce my demand to half-a-crown . r " 
 
 Notwithstanding his great eminence as a 
 Juris-consult, he had no great inclination ever 
 to enter into a lawsuit himself; a precaution, 
 by the by, peculiar to all great lawyers.* 
 
 * One day, after Counsellor Marriott had retired 
 from practice, he happened to be in a company where 
 the uncertainty of the law became the topic of conversa- 
 tion ; and he, of course, was applied to for his opinion, 
 which he gave in the following laconic style : " If any 
 man was to claim the coat upon my back, and threaten 
 me with a lawsuit if I refused to give it him, he should 
 certainly have it ; lest, in defending my coat, I should 
 too 'late find to my cost, that 1 was deprived of my 
 waistcoat also." 
 
 According to the newspapers, an action of ejectment 
 being tried at Durham a few months ago, in which 
 a point of law raised by Mr. Pollock was overruled by 
 Baron Hullock, his Lordship observed that the point 
 must be decided elsewhere ; saying, " Your only remedy 
 is in a Court of Equity, and I, for one, would not advise 
 you to go there."
 
 134 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 One evening, on his return to his house at Ful- 
 ham, his steward came in to tell him that a 
 neighbouring farmer had cut down two great 
 trees on his premises. " Well,' 1 said he, " and 
 what did you say to him ?" 
 
 " Say to him !" replied the man, " why I 
 told him we should trounce him famously with 
 a lawsuit." 
 
 " Did you so ?" said Dunning : " then you 
 must carry it on yourself ; for, depend on 't, I 
 sha'n't trouble my head about the matter." 
 
 Unfortunately, Mr. Dunning possessed a de- 
 gree of personal vanity, which was very incom- 
 patible with his contemptible figure, general 
 understanding, and great attainments. The con- 
 sequence was, that he fancied he had a taste for 
 dress, and that his influence with the fair sex 
 was irresistible. His great wealth, too, enabled 
 him to indulge his amorous feelings, by taking se- 
 veral very fine women under his protection. One 
 evening, at George's Coffee-house in the Strand, 
 where, on account of his distance from home, 
 he was accustomed to invite the wits and literati 
 of the day to dine or sup with him three or
 
 COUNSELLOR DUNNING. 135 
 
 four times a-week,* he was boasting to Sam. 
 Foote, how much the ladies in general were in 
 love with him ; and said that a favourite girl 
 of his was so particularly fond, that she actually 
 died with a letter of his in her hand ! " Ah ! 
 poor young lady," said the wit, " I heard she 
 
 died upon the ." 
 
 Though Lord Ashburton died at the early 
 age of fifty-two,-f- he had saved no less a sum 
 than ISOjOOO/. in the twenty-five years of his 
 practice ! Besides which, he always lived in a 
 liberal style ; though, from the great extent of 
 his practice at the Bar, he had no time to enjoy 
 the pleasures of a regular domestic establish- 
 ment. He was three years at the Bar without 
 receiving even as much as one hundred gui- 
 
 * Dunning was attached to this house, from having 
 frequented it in the early part of his career. Here he 
 unbent himself from the fatigues of business, by enjoy- 
 ing the society of Foote, Garrick, Murphy, &c., and on 
 Saturday noon he generally took a whole bevy of them 
 down with him to his house at Fulham, where they en- 
 joyed themselves until Monday morning, when they all 
 drove to town together. 
 
 t A. D. 1 783, the year after he was ennobled, and be- 
 came Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster.
 
 136 THE CLUBS OF LOXUOX. 
 
 neas !* During the fourth, he received upwards 
 of a thousand ; and during the latter twelve, 
 
 * Whilst Dunning studied in the Middle Temple, 
 and for some years afterwards, his father, who was an 
 attorney in his native town, allowed him a hundred 11- 
 year ; and he had chambers up two-pair of stairs in 
 1'ump-court, where it was his custom to read from an 
 early hour in the morning until late in the evening, 
 without ever going out, or permitting the lounging 
 visits of his fellow-students. He then made his dinner 
 and supper together, at the Grecian or George's Coffee- 
 house, to the frequenters of which, his wit and informa- 
 tion were a great treat. He was first brought into no- 
 tice, professionally, by drawing up a Memorial respect- 
 ing a dispute between the English and Dutch in the 
 East Indies. This was in 176t, and it was such a mas- 
 terpiece of language and reasoning, as to produce a con- 
 ciliating answer and redress from their High Mighti- 
 nesses of Holland ; on which occasion, the English East 
 India Company presented him with a 500/. bank-note. 
 His fortune was now made ; for his abilities being thus 
 known and recognized, briefs poured in on every side. 
 
 Whilst he was in the meridian of his practice, old Mr. 
 Dunning came to London to join in securities for a law- 
 student performing his terms, &c. When lie had 
 signed the bond, the clerk at the Treasurer's Office in 
 the Temple, seeing the name, asked him with some 
 eagerness, whether he stood in any relation to the great 
 Dunning ? The old man, feeling this inadvertent praise 
 of his son, drew himself up, and replied with great
 
 COUNSELLOU DUNNING. 137 
 
 his practice amounted to between eight and ten 
 thousand a-year. Few lawyers, without a con- 
 dignity and sensibility, " I am John Dunning's father, 
 Sir." 
 
 Mrs. Dunning, coming once to town to see her son, 
 took frequent opportunities of reprehending him for 
 vvhut she deemed the great extravagance of his house- 
 keeping. Several of the gentlemen above-mentioned 
 being at Fulham one Sunday, a very elegant enter- 
 tainment was prepared, to do his mother all due honour. 
 When the old woman, however, beheld the splendid 
 sideboard and table laden with all the varieties of the 
 season, she was struck dumb with amazement and hard- 
 ly spoke during the repast. Having at length taken an 
 opportunity of withdrawing, she sent for her son, whom 
 she thus addressed : 
 
 " John/' said she, " I shall not stop another day to 
 witness your shameful extravagance." 
 
 " My dear mother," replied John, " you ought to con- 
 sider that I can well afford it : my income, you know " 
 " No income,'' interrupted the old woman, '' is suffi- 
 cient to stand against such shameful prodigality. The 
 sum which your cook told me that very turbot cost, 
 ought to be enough to support any reasonable family for 
 a whole week." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! my dear mother," responded Dunning, 
 " you would not have me appear shabby. Besides, what 
 is a turbot, after all ?" 
 
 '" Pooh, pooh !" re-echoed his mother j " don't pooh ! 
 me, John. I tell you, such goings-on can come to no
 
 138 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 siderable paternal estate at starting in the 
 world, and who have died at fifty, have left 
 so large a fortune at their decease. 
 
 good ; and you will see the end of it before long. How- 
 ever, it sha'n't be said that your mother encouraged 
 such sinful waste ; for I mean to set off in the coach for 
 Devonshire to-morrow morning/' 
 
 All Dunning's rhetorical efforts to detain his mother 
 in town were of no avail. The old lady kept her word.
 
 BLUU HANGER. 139 
 
 XI. 
 BLUE HANGER. 
 
 LORD COLERAINE, formerly known by the 
 familiar appellation of Blue Hanger., from the 
 colour of his clothes, was perhaps the best 
 dressed man of his age ; and he was no less re- 
 markable for his politeness and good humour. 
 Heavy losses at play, when he was a young 
 man, compelled him to retire into France, in 
 order to avoid his creditors ; and there he 
 remained upwards of twelve years, until the 
 death of his elder brother ; when he came to the 
 title, and returned to this country a complete 
 Frenchman. 
 
 On his Lordship's first visit to Drury-lane 
 Theatre, his natural turn for pleasantry brought 
 him into a rencontre that gave him some un-
 
 140 THE CLUBS OF LONDOX, 
 
 easiness. Seeing a gentleman //* bools enter 
 the box where he was sitting, in the dress-circle, 
 and place himself on the seat just before him, 
 rather abruptly, his ideas of etiquette could 
 not well brook what in France would have been 
 considered a breach of decorum. Accordingly, 
 he addressed him in the following words : " I 
 beg, Sir, you will make no apology !" 
 
 " Apology, Sir!" replied the stranger ; "apo- 
 logy for what T 
 
 " Why," returned his Lordship, pointing- 
 down towards the boots, " that you did not 
 bring your horse with you into the box." 
 
 " Perhaps it is lucky for you, Sir," retorted 
 the stranger, " that I did not bring my horse- 
 whip ; but I have a remedy at hand, and I will 
 pull your nose for your impertinence." Some 
 other gentlemen in the box now interfered ; an 
 exchange of cards took place, and both parties 
 left the theatre. 
 
 Blue went immediately to his brother 
 George, at Brookes';*; and having stated the 
 particulars, begged his assistance to get him 
 out of the scrape ; " which, 11 said he, " may
 
 BLUE HANGER. I'll 
 
 end in bloodshed. I acknowledge," he con- 
 tinued, " that I was the first aggressor; but 
 it was too bad to threaten to pull ray nose. 
 What had I better do ?" 
 
 " Soap it well" replied George, " and then 
 it will easily slip through his fingers."* 
 George, however, accommodated the affair to 
 the satisfaction of all parties, by explaining 
 to the stranger, that his brother had resided 
 so long in France, as almost to forget the 
 customs of his countrymen. 
 
 * This method of avoiding a hearty tweak of the pro- 
 boscis appears to have been a favourite of Colonel 
 Hanger's, for he recommends it even in the Memoirs 
 of his Life ; he says, that whenever any person is in- 
 clined to calumniate a gentleman behind his back, he 
 ought to take the precaution of soaping his nose first.
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 XII. 
 SELWYNIANA. 
 
 FOR several years, George Selwyn was reck- 
 oned to be the prince of wits, not only at 
 Brookes's but in private society ; and many per- 
 sons still remember, that, in the generality of 
 his repartees, there was a sting of attic poig- 
 nancy which rendered him, in a peculiar man- 
 ner, the scourge of folly and self-pretension : 
 this will be fully exemplified in the following 
 anecdotes. 
 
 One morning, whilst he was drinking choco- 
 late with the Duke of Queensberry, a newly- 
 appointed Commissioner of Taxes made his 
 appearance at his Grace's house in Piccadilly, 
 to pay his compliments. This man was in a
 
 SELWYNIANA. 143 
 
 tumult of joy at his preferment ; but, though 
 it was to the Duke he had primarily been in- 
 debted for his good fortune, he hardly thanked 
 him ; for he was possessed with the notion that 
 it was from his own merit that he had acquired 
 the promotion. On his entree, he assumed 
 several consequential airs, thinking that he was 
 now as great a man as the Duke himself; and 
 he only deigned to notice the obligation as far 
 as two friends, on a scale of absolute equality, 
 would think of noticing a familiar interchange 
 of civilities which might have occasionally pass- 
 ed between them. 
 
 " So, Mr. Commissioner," said Selwyn " you 
 will excuse me, Sir, I forget your name, you 
 are at length installed, I find." The word in- 
 stalled conveyed an awkward idea ; for the new 
 Commissioner's grandfather had been a stable- 
 boy, and of course literally belonged to the 
 stalls. 
 
 " Why, Sir," replied the other, " if you 
 mean to say, that I am at length appointed, I 
 have the pleasure to inform you that the busi- 
 ness is settled. Yes, Sir, I am appointed ; and
 
 144 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 though our noble friend, the Duke here, did 
 oblige me with letters to the minister, yet these 
 letters were of no use; and I was positively 
 promoted to the office without knowing a sylla- 
 ble about the matter, or even taking a single 
 step in it." 
 
 " What ! not a single step?" cried George. 
 
 " No, not one, upon my honour," replied 
 the new-fledged placeman: "Egad! Sir, I 
 did not walk a foot out of my way for it." 
 
 " And egad, Sir, 1 ' retorted Selwyn, " you 
 never before uttered half so much truth in so 
 few words. Reptiles, Sir, can neither walk nor 
 take steps; Nature ordained it for them to 
 creep" 
 
 Sir Robert Macraith had for several years 
 been head-waiter at the Cocoa Tree, where he 
 was known by the appellation of Bob; and 
 at length rose from that humble situation to 
 the rank of Baronet. He was a clever, good- 
 natured, civil fellow, and greatly liked. When 
 he himself succeeded to the business, he was 
 rather puzzled as to what would be the most
 
 SELWYNIANA. 145 
 
 appropriate name for his house. George Sel- 
 wyn calling in one morning, he stated the diffi- 
 culty to him, saying, that he was afraid " Bo&s 
 Coffee House" would sound rather queerly. 
 
 "'Oh, no," said George, "just the thing; 
 for then it will be Bob without, and robbing 
 (Robin) within. 11 
 
 A lady, famous only for her low birth, but 
 who from a large fortune acquired by her 
 father, in the respectable and liberal occupations 
 of pawnbroker and usurer, had been enabled 
 to form a matrimonial alliance with a nobleman, 
 whose constitution and estate had been broken 
 up together in a continued round of dissipation, 
 was showing her new and elegantly furnished 
 house to Mr. Selwyn. Having led him from 
 room to room, and displayed the whole of her 
 rhetoric and taste, she at last threw open a 
 large pair of folding-doors that led into the 
 grand saloon, which was superbly furnished, 
 but contained no pictures. 
 
 " Here, Mr. Selwyn," said she, " I intend to 
 hang up all my family." 
 
 VOL. i. I
 
 14-6 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " I thought," replied George, " your Lady- 
 ship might have spared yourself that trouble ; 
 for I always understood, they were hung up, 
 long ago.'' 
 
 Another titled dame, young and beautiful, 
 but very giddy and foolish, walking one day 
 with Selwyn, asked him, if from the smallness 
 of her features and figure she did not look 
 very young ? 
 
 " Indeed," replied he, " your Ladyship looks 
 as if you were just come from boarding-school 
 for the Midsummer holidays ; and fit to return 
 again to finish your lessons : it is hoped that in 
 a year or two you would be able to read, write, 
 sit, stand, walk, and talk." 
 
 When Selwyn heard that Earl Grosvenor 
 had recovered ten thousand pounds, as damages 
 from the Duke of Cumberland, for adultery 
 with his Lady, he exclaimed, "Frenum habet 
 in Cornu ! who the devil would not be a 
 cuckold ? a handsome wife is an absolute trea- 
 sure in banco! Well, I always thought that
 
 SELWYNIANA. 147 
 
 Grosvenor wore antlers on his forehead ; but 
 now I find it is a cornu-copia." 
 
 Selwyn one day dining at the old Duke of 
 Richmond's, a French Marquess was declaiming 
 on the ingenuity of his countrymen ; " who," 
 said he, " were de grande artistes for de modes 
 and de fashions, pour tout le monde ; for in- 
 stance, look at de roffel, (ruffle) dat fine orna- 
 ment for de hand and for de breast : de French- 
 man invent it, and all de oder nations of Eu- 
 rope quickly adopt de same plan." 
 
 " True,"" replied Mr. Selwyn, " we allow 
 that your countrymen have great merit in in- 
 vention ; but you must at the same time admit 
 that, though the English are not an inventive, 
 they are at least an improving people : for ex- 
 ample, to the very articles which you mention 
 they have made a very important and useful 
 addition." 
 
 " Les Anglois, Mistare Selvin," returned the 
 Frenchman, stroking and pulling down the 
 ruffles on his breast and hands, " are, sans 
 doute, ver clevare men ; mats je ne connois pas
 
 148 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 quelle improvement dey could have make to de 
 roffel; qu'est ce que la, Monsieur?" 
 
 " Why, by adding a shirt to it, to be sure," 
 replied George. 
 
 During the rage of republican principles in 
 England, and whilst the Corresponding Society 
 was in full vigour, Mr. Selwyn happened one 
 May-day to meet a troop of chimney-sweepers, 
 dressed out in all their gaudy trappings ; and 
 observed to Mr. Fox, who was walking with 
 him, " I say, Charles, I have often heard you 
 and others talk of the majesty of the people, but 
 I never saw any of the young princes and prin- 
 cesses till now. 1 ' 
 
 Soon after Mr. Samuel Whi thread had re- 
 turned from his travels, he rendered himself 
 very conspicuous by taking an active part 
 against the Ministry, at a public meeting of the 
 Westminster electors. The Duke of Queens-
 
 SELWYNIANA. 149 
 
 berry, speaking of this, at Brookes's, said that 
 " the brewer was making a desperate lunge at 
 popularity." 
 
 " Pardon me, Duke," replied Selwyn ; " he is 
 only playing at carte and tierce" 
 
 A general officer in the American War, was 
 one evening, at the Cocoa-tree, describing to the 
 company the phenomena of certain hot and cold 
 springs, which he said he had frequently found 
 quite close to each other, during his campaign 
 in the south-western territory. Just as Selwyn 
 entered the room, he was saying that fish of 
 various sorts abounded in the latter, and that 
 all that those of the army who were fond of 
 fish had to do, after the fatigue of a day's march, 
 in order to provide a dinner, was to angle for a 
 few moments with a string and hook in the cold 
 spring; and as soon as the bait took, to pull out 
 the fish and pop it in the hot one, where it 
 was boiled in the twinkling of an eye ! 
 
 This marvellous account operated differently
 
 150 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 on the several gentlemen present ; some were 
 incredulous, others amazed, whilst all agreed 
 that it was exceedingly curious. 
 
 " There is nothing at all surprising in the 
 general's narrative, gentlemen," said Selwyn, 
 " and indeed, I myself can vouch for the truth 
 of it ; for when I was in France I was witness 
 to similar phenomena. In Auvergne there are 
 springs similar to those in America, but with 
 this remarkable addition, that there is generally 
 a third, containing hot parsley and butter ; ac- 
 cordingly, the peasants and others who go a 
 fishing, usually carry with them large wooden 
 bowls or ladles, so that after the fish has been 
 cooked according to the general's receipt, they 
 have a most delicious sauce provided for it at 
 the same moment ! You seem to doubt my 
 veracity, gentlemen ; therefore I only beg that 
 those who are incredulous may set out for 
 France as soon as they please, and see the 
 thing with their own eyes." 
 " But, Mr. Selwyn," said the general, " con- 
 sider the improbability of parsley and butter." 
 " I beg your pardon, my good Sir,"" inter-
 
 SELWYNIANA. 151 
 
 rupted George ; " I gave you full credit for your 
 story, and you are surely too polite not to be- 
 lieve mine." 1 
 
 As one of those eccentricities which are some- 
 times known to prevail in the characters of men, 
 otherwise perfectly consistent, it is necessary to 
 relate that Mr. Selwyn like one or two persons 
 in high life of the present day had the strange 
 propensity of going to see malefactors executed ! 
 This his friend Horace Walpole has also re- 
 lated of him. In the metropolis he was seldom 
 absent from a hanging-match ; and he has been 
 known on some occasions to have been present 
 at such scenes even in the provinces ! 
 
 A notorious criminal being to be broken on 
 the wheel, at Paris, Selwyn left London in 
 haste, to witness the spectacle. In order to 
 reuder-*this execution as solemn as possible, the 
 French Government had ordered that many of 
 the provincial executioners should attend ; and 
 these, on arriving at the Place de Greve, were 
 ranged in a circle round the scaffold, and wel-
 
 152 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 corned, one by one, by the Paris finisher of the 
 law, as * Monsieur de Bordeaux, Monsieur de 
 Lyons, Monsieur de Marseilles,' &c. 
 
 George having managed for a trifling sum to 
 procure a place among this assembly of artistes, 
 Monsieur de Paris quickly spied him out, and 
 thinking that it was the London hangman with 
 whose presence his performance was about to 
 be honoured, he saluted him by the honourable 
 appellation of " Monsieur Jean Ketch de Ty- 
 born." 
 
 Selwyn, bowing, replied, " Sir, you do me 
 rather too much honour : I have not yet re- 
 ceived my diploma as a professor of the art ; 
 I am only an amateur, but should be proud of 
 the honour of bringing my hand in, by perform- 
 ing on a gentleman of your height and figure."" 
 
 Returning in haste from France, in the win- 
 ter season, on hearing a report of a probable 
 change in the Ministry, by which he was more 
 than likely to lose his place, Selwyn appeared 
 at the drawing-room at St. James's, the next
 
 SELWYNIANA. 153 
 
 court-day, in a light-coloured velvet dress. 
 The King taking notice of this, George re- 
 plied, ** Yes, Sire, it is rather a cool habili- 
 ment ; but, notwithstanding, I do assure your 
 Majesty that I have been in a violent sweat ever 
 since my arrival in England." 
 
 Counsellor Dunning and Dr. Brocklesby, one 
 evening at the Cocoa-tree, were conversing on 
 the superfluities of life, and the needless wants 
 which men in society created for their own 
 discomfort. Selwyn, whose aristocratic notions 
 were such as to look with contempt on occupa- 
 tions of all sorts on that of a medical man as 
 well as that of a taylor, exclaimed, " Very 
 true, gentlemen, I am myself an example of 
 the justice of your remarks ; for I have lived 
 nearly all my life without wanting either a 
 lawyer or a physician." 
 
 Mr. Selwyn's sarcasms on medical men were 
 particularly severe; and he delighted in keep-
 
 154 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 ing a poor devil on the rack, when the humour 
 of inflicting the torture was upon him. 
 
 The Duke of Bedford, coming one evening 
 into Brookes's, complained of some sand or 
 splinter which the wind had blown into his eye. 
 In the course of an hour he irritated that 
 organ so much by continual rubbing, that it 
 became quite inflamed and painful; and, at 
 length, several gentlemen begged that he would 
 allow a medical man to be sent for without 
 delay. Accordingly, a servant was dispatched 
 for a fashionable oculist in the neighbourhood, 
 who soon arrived, and quickly extracted the 
 offensive matter, to the patients very great 
 relief. 
 
 Having ordered a glass of cold water for the 
 Duke to bathe his eye with, in order to reduce 
 
 the inflammation, Mr. was preparing to 
 
 retire, when his Grace and several other mem- 
 bers politely requested him to sit down and 
 pass the evening in the club, if he was not 
 otherwise engaged. 
 
 The oculist, highly pleased by so flattering 
 a compliment, accepted the invitation with ala-
 
 SKLWYNIANA. 155 
 
 crity, and sent orders to his coachman to return 
 about two in the morning : he then sat down, 
 and appeared so elated with his newly acquired 
 consequence, as to consider himself quite at 
 home. He addressed every one familiarly by 
 his name, and in a tone which seemed to say 
 " Hey, fellow ! well met ;" until at length he 
 became rather a bore. 
 
 His free-and-easy manner was tolerated by 
 all but Selwyn, who sat fidgetting and longing 
 for an opportunity to attack him. At length, 
 with an eye to business, and like a woodcock 
 whose long bill is stretched forth in quest of 
 
 its insect prey, Mr. perched into the tree 
 
 of medical science ; where, having descanted 
 largely and learnedly on the anatomy of the 
 eye, he commenced a physiological lecture on 
 the economy and uses of the retina, the pupil, 
 the optic nerve, the lachrymal duct, the leva- 
 tor supercilii, and other parts of that organ. 
 
 This was too much for Selwyn's patience? 
 and he cocked his rifle to bring him down. 
 " I tell ye what, Mr. - ," said he ; " this 
 is, no doubt, all very fine and highly learned ;
 
 156 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 but you might as well treat your audience to a 
 chapter out of the Hebrew Bible, for all they 
 know or care about the matter. The worst of 
 you medical men is, that you always mistake 
 a saloon or drawing-room for the sick cham- 
 ber; and you enter them with a pestle and 
 mortar under your arm, whilst one hand bran- 
 dishes the amputating-knife, and the other car- 
 ries a glyster-pipe, both ready for service. 
 Faugh ! ' I pray you reform it altogether."* " 
 
 " If I have offended by describing the nature 
 and seat of the Duke's disorder," replied the 
 oculist, " I humbly beg pardon." 
 
 " Disorder ! my good fellow," returned Sel- 
 wyn ; " no disorder at all : merely an inconve- 
 nience, which you very cleverly removed, and 
 that too in a most simple manner, merely by 
 drawing the upper eye-lid down upon the 
 cheek, and there leaving the speck. In my 
 humble opinion, if you professional men who 
 really do good, were to confine yourselves 
 to the mere performance of your duty, and 
 kept your science to yourselves, the rest of 
 the world would respect you more for it;
 
 SELW-YNIANA. 157 
 
 because people in general are apt to reverence 
 that which is mysterious." 
 
 " My dear Sir," replied the oculist, " we 
 who are regularly bred to the profession dis- 
 dain all secrecy and mystery : these we leave 
 to the charlatan, who practises on the credulity 
 of the public, by puffing nostrums which are 
 said to cure every disorder by some hidden or 
 occult influence." 
 
 " Nay, Sir," returned the persevering cynic ; 
 " I appeal to yourself, whether nine-tenths of 
 the London physicians are not as great quacks 
 as Brodum or Van Butchell ? Are not new 
 theories as plentiful as blackberries ? and does 
 not each adopt that which is most likely to 
 suit the humour of his patients, and fill his own 
 pockets with fees ? Is not the public at one 
 time dosed with arsenic and digitalis, and at 
 another with asses' milk and tar- water ? And 
 in what are these better nay, are they not a 
 great deal worse, than Graham's Celestial Bed 
 or Brodum's Steel Tractors?" 
 
 " Very true, Sir," replied Mr. , " in the 
 
 hands of unskilful persons they would be so ;
 
 158 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 but no regularly bred man will prescribe, with- 
 out paying due attention to the symptoms, age, 
 sex, and constitution of his patients." 
 
 " Stuff! my good fellow," returned Selwyn ; 
 " you know as well as I do, that fashionable 
 physicians need not possess talents, nor have 
 much knowledge of their profession ; it is suf- 
 ficient if they have skill and address to cap- 
 tivate a parcel of weak-minded old women : 
 whereas, men of real knowledge, who will not 
 stoop to pick up and dispense scandal, are ge- 
 nerally destitute of patronage indeed, sure 
 to be neglected. The spirits of hypochondria- 
 cal ladies are wonderfully exhilarated by a dose 
 of gossip, well seasoned with calumny and 
 properly administered : besides, fashionable 
 practitioners, when entrusted with family se- 
 crets, are useful to give advice in more respects 
 than one ; and if they possess the art of pleas- 
 ing, they can do other things, you know, 
 
 Mr. , besides curing either ophthalmia or 
 
 the windy cholic." 
 
 " Upon my word, Mr. Selwyn, " observed 
 the oculist, " you are very hard upon the
 
 SELWYNIANA. 159 
 
 profession : but I could name many men whose 
 virtues and talents would adorn any station in 
 life : for example, the two Hunters, Dr. Warren, 
 and many others." 
 
 " Very true ! very true !" returned Selwyn, 
 " there is no rule without exception ; but I do 
 not allude to the skilful members of your pro- 
 fession such as surgeons and visiting apothe- 
 caries, who are certainly very useful in their 
 way ; but to those gentry, who, without any 
 acquirement, save fashionable cant and impu- 
 dence, thrust themselves into practice and a 
 carriage, and drive over the heads of men of 
 real talent and honesty, trampling them in the 
 dirt : 
 
 ' Oh, quackery is the badge of all their tribe ;' 
 
 or, rather, as Voltaire says of the knowledge 
 of astrologers, ' Notre credulite fait toute votre 
 science.'' " 
 
 " Really, Sir," said Mr. , *' your seve. 
 
 rity astonishes me ; and is, I must say, very 
 illiberal. You surely do not suppose that all 
 physicians are so ignorant and unprincipled as
 
 160 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 you have described ? if so, is it likely that they 
 would be employed ?" 
 
 " Why not, my good Sir ?" returned the 
 pertinacious and persecuting Selwyn. " How 
 are the public to judge of your faults or blun- 
 ders, except it be, that the boldest among you 
 are the most fortunate ; for, in medical homi- 
 cides, as in cases of murder, dead men tell no 
 tales ? 
 
 " I remember having once read in some 
 French author, of a lover, who being on the 
 point of losing his mistress by a dangerous ill- 
 ness, went in search of a physician, on whose 
 skill he might depend. In his way, he met 
 with a person who possessed a talismanic mirror, 
 by which, objects, undiscernible by the naked 
 eye, could be distinguished. Having purchased 
 this wonderful instrument, he made all possible 
 haste to the house of a celebrated physician in 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 " In this mansion he beheld a multitude of 
 spectres, which were the souls of men, women, 
 and children, whom, in attempting to cure of 
 various diseases, the physician had killed.
 
 SELWYNIANA. 161 
 
 Struck with horror at the sight, the young man 
 effected a hasty retreat, and visited another 
 practitioner, in whose house he beheld similar 
 spectres, but not so many in number. Still 
 terrified and disgusted, he again fled with pre- 
 cipitation, and successively entered the habita- 
 tions of several other medical gentlemen, deter- 
 mined to find some one who was guiltless of the 
 blood of his fellow-creatures ; but, alas ! the 
 poor fellow met with similar scenes, more or less 
 aggravated by numbers, wherever he went. 
 
 " At length, almost in despair of finding any 
 medical man fit for his purpose, or whom he 
 could dare to employ, he was bending his steps 
 homeward, sorrowful and sad, when he was asked 
 by a friend who met him, whether, in the course 
 of his peregrinations, he had called on a prac- 
 titioner who lived in an obscure corner of the 
 city ? 
 
 " He replied, that he had not he must 
 have escaped his notice ; but that he would now 
 bend his way to the suburbs for that purpose. 
 
 " Accordingly, the young man soon arrived at 
 this doctor's house, and having consulted his ta- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 lisman, he perceived, only, the tiny souls of lico 
 little children, ' Now !' exclaimed the lover, 
 in a transport of joy, * at length, I have dis- 
 covered a skilful and honest physician, who 
 will speedily restore my beloved to health and 
 to my arms P 
 
 " Having related his business, the physi- 
 cian put some medicines into his pocket- 
 case, and prepared to accompany him to the 
 abode of his charmer. On their way, his 
 curiosity was excited to ask the young man 
 * how he had found him out, as he lived 
 at such a distance ?' 
 
 " ( How !' replied the latter ; ' why, by your 
 reputation your skill. 1 
 
 " ' My reputation P returned the compounder 
 of drugs ; e Lord, Sir, you are surely quiz- 
 zing ; I have not been more than eight days in 
 business, nor have yet seen but two patients P M 
 
 Thisjeu tfesprit excited considerable mirth ; 
 
 and Mr. could not help joining in the 
 
 laugh against himself. But, anxious to defend 
 his profession from the aspersions of so de- 
 termined an assailant, he endeavoured still to
 
 SKLWYNIANA. 163 
 
 maintain his ground, not considering that the 
 longer he did so, the less chance had he of 
 making a safe and honourable retreat ; for, 
 come what might, Selwyn was sure to have the 
 last word even if it were to be his last. 
 
 " Your fable, Sir," observed Mr. , "is 
 
 certainly very amusing; but amusement, you 
 will allow, is not conviction. Indeed, as you 
 must admit, the rule of conduct generally follow- 
 ed by medical men is totally at variance either 
 with neglect or want of skill. When a prac- 
 titioner finds that his own care is insufficient in 
 subduing a disease, he never hesitates to send 
 for some person more eminent, or rather more 
 experienced, than himself, to assist him ; I ha-ve 
 done so myself, in hundreds of cases." 
 
 " Worse and worse, by G d !" retorted 
 the impenetrable cynic : " with one doctor, you 
 may have some chance if it be only of being 
 able to drench him with his own filthy potions, 
 or of kicking him down-stairs ; but two are the 
 devil for one of them kills you by inches, and 
 the other picks your bones while both pick 
 your pockets. No, no ; if I must be put to 
 M 2
 
 164 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 death, let me have the coup de grace as soon as 
 possible ; and, for that, one executioner is quite 
 sufficient." 
 
 One would think that Mr. had had 
 
 enough ; at least every one present, except 
 himself, thought so. He would still continue 
 the argument, however ; and, conceiving that 
 Selwyn's ammunition was expended, he once 
 more breasted himself up in defiance, or, rather, 
 he persevered in deprecating the sarcastic hu- 
 mour of his persecutor. But the latter had still 
 a shot in his locker, which, being well aimed, 
 winged the oculist, and he effected a speedy 
 retreat. 
 
 " Mr. Selwyn," said Mr. , " your opi- 
 nions are certainly the most singular, and, let 
 me add, unjust, that I ever heard uttered : and 
 if I may be permitted to adduce my own pro- 
 fessional conduct as a practical refutation of 
 them, I would say, without any boast of disin- 
 terestedness, that whatever detriment I may 
 suffer by the loss of fees, I "in variably advise 
 those patients whom I cannot further assist, to 
 adjourn to the country, the sea-side, or to some
 
 SELWYMANA. 165 
 
 watering-place. There, I recommend them to 
 the care of some eminent practitioner on the 
 spot." 
 
 " Doubtless ! doubtless r replied Selwyn ; 
 " you take care to recommend them to one 
 who, in his turn, will recommend you ; just in 
 the same manner as the landlord of the Red 
 Lion in one town, recommends the publican 
 of the Black Lion in another. 
 
 " I remember a fat, hypochondriacal clothier 
 at Bath, who, after drinking the waters for seve- 
 ral seasons, became very fidgetty and trouble- 
 some to his physician ; and the latter, as the 
 only means of getting rid of him for a time, 
 advised him to try the hot wells at Bristol. The 
 patient, of course supposing that such a change 
 of air and water would contribute to ease his 
 malady, instantly acceded to the proposition, 
 and received from the physician a letter ad- 
 dressed to a brother Galen at Bristol ; in which, 
 he said, his case was fully described. Having 
 received his despatches, the manufacturer got 
 into his carriage and started. 
 
 " When he had proceeded about half-way,
 
 166 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 however, a fit of the maladie imaginaire came 
 on him so strong, as to excite his curiosity to 
 know the doctor's real opinion of his disorder ; 
 accordingly, calling for tea at an inn on the 
 road, he held the letter over the spout of the tea- 
 kettle, the steam issuing from which, speedily 
 dissolved the wafer, and he read as follows : 
 
 ' DEAB SIR, 
 
 * The bearer is a fat Wiltshire clothier : make 
 the most of him whilst he remains at Bristol, as 
 I have done at Bath. Toivards the end of au- 
 tumn, you may send him back for the winter; 
 and I shall manage in such a manner, as to give 
 you another turn next summer. 
 
 four's truly, tyc? 
 
 " This letter proved a complete cathartic to 
 the clothier : and put an end to all his hypo- 
 chondriacal vagaries ; for he ordered his coach- 
 man to turn the horses' heads round, and he 
 drove home into Wiltshire, damning all phy- 
 sicians, quacks, apothecaries, and hot wells." 
 
 Mr. , having by this time lost all temper 
 
 and patience, arose from his seat, and when the
 
 SELWYNIANA. 167 
 
 peals of laughter had partially subsided, he de- 
 clared that he never before was so insulted in 
 his life ; and that were it not for the disparity 
 of his own and Mr. Selwyn's age, the latter 
 should find that a medical man could resent an 
 affront as readily as any other person. 
 
 " Being fully aware of that," retorted George, 
 " I have no inclination to encounter such aw- 
 ful odds ; for, if your pistol were to miss fire, 
 how could I stand the explosion of a whole 
 apothecary's shop ?" 
 
 The Duke and others endeavoured to restore 
 harmony, but in vain ; for the oculist's feelings 
 were wounded, and he left the house in high 
 dudgeon.
 
 168 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 XIIL 
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 
 
 SEVERAL gentlemen, at Boodle's, appeared 
 one evening to be greatly amused by the writer's 
 description of an eccentric character, who re- 
 sides in the neighbourhood of Brighton, named 
 Buckhorse. 
 
 This man, by successful traffic in horses for 
 many years, had amassed together a considerable 
 sum of money. His riches, however, imparted 
 to him none of that amenity and good man- 
 ners which they generally do on men of, even 
 slender, education. He has always remained 
 perfectly illiterate ; and is, consequently, at this 
 day, as coarse and saucy in his habits and con- 
 versation, as when he commenced his career as
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 169 
 
 a stable-boy. Notwithstanding this, however, 
 he fancies that wealth entitles him to a rank in 
 society which birth and education, only, can 
 confer ; and he is ever on the qui vive to imi- 
 tate the manners of the great, and the language 
 of the learned, to the infinite amusement of the 
 inhabitants and visitors of Brighton, who occa- 
 sionally associate with him, in order to draw 
 him out and laugh at his eccentricities. 
 
 From the continual blunders which he makes 
 in attempting to express himself in highly 
 sounding language, it might be supposed that 
 Buckhorse is a stupid ignoramus in every thing 
 which does not regard the condition of a horse : 
 not so, however; for, though able only to 
 make his mark, he is feelingly alive to tha 
 prospect of gain, from whatever source it may 
 arise ; and he can calculate that gain, by a 
 sort of intuitive or mental arithmetic, even to 
 the utmost farthing. He is, moreover, a per- 
 fect Master of Arts in all that professional cun- 
 ning which is so characteristic of the knights 
 of the stall and the corn-bin ; as will be fully 
 exemplified in some of the following anecdotes.
 
 170 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 A few years ago, Buckhorse was severely at- 
 tacked by rheumatism ; and, after trying a va- 
 riety of remedies, was at last persuaded by the 
 writer, who had some dealings with him at the 
 time, to undergo ashampooing. On inquiring 
 what was the cause of his disorder, Buckhorse 
 replied as follows : 
 
 " Vy, ye see, Sir, I vent on a 'quatic execu- 
 tion on the hocean, wi' my vife and some other 
 ladies and gentlemen, and it blew the tremen- 
 dyusest gale as never was seen ; so, ve vere 
 obliged to use our hoars; and I thinks, that 
 from prespiring and fartigue, I took cold in 
 my lines ; but my Missus says as how the rheu- 
 matise corned by catching cold from being 
 scroudged in the pit, to see Kean hact the 
 Merchant o' Wenus, and being afterwards hex- 
 posed to the veather and the helements, on our 
 road 'ome." 
 
 " But have you done nothing to get rid of 
 this rheumatism ?" inquired the writer. 
 
 " Oh, yes !" replied Buckhorse, " I 've took 
 lots o 1 potecary's stuff, and 'ave been on a
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 171 
 
 coolin' regiment this fortnight; for I 'aven't 
 drank no wynd nor any spiritual and fomented 
 liquors whatsomever : but it's no use, bless you, 
 for I 'm worn to a shador, a mere skelinton, 
 and the rheumatise is as bad as ever ; so, I 
 thinks I 'm a goin 1 to the regency (regions) 
 below, as fast as I can." 
 
 " Pooh ! nonsense !" said the writer, " you 
 must get shampooed ; that is the proper me- 
 thod of getting rid of your complaint." 
 
 Buckhorse promised to follow this friendly 
 advice without delay. 
 
 Meeting him a few days afterwards, the 
 writer inquired how his health was, and whether 
 he had found benefit from the vapour baths. 
 
 Buckhorse replied : " Lord bless you, Sir, 
 them 'ere baths are no good : I got quite pie- 
 boiled by that black fellow, that savage Hin- 
 geon, Molly-nooks, who squeedged and knead- 
 ed me about, like a lump o 1 biscuit-baker's 
 dough. I couldn't a-bear it no longer ; so, I 
 disgarded him." 
 
 " But has Molyneux done you no good ?"
 
 172 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " Lord bless you, Sir ! no more than nothin' 
 at all. 1 ' 
 
 " But you ought to go to Mahommed ; he 
 has cured many persons, and is well known 
 as a clever man." 
 
 " Lord bless you, my dear Sir, I can't a-bear 
 them "ere Hingeon canibals. I made such a 
 diskivery about 'em, that I vonder as how 
 the King lets 'em live in a Christian coun- 
 try." 
 
 " What !" observed the writer, laughing 
 heartily, "you are surely not afraid of being 
 killed and eaten ?" 
 
 " An't I though ! vy, the landlord o' the Ship 
 told me in a great secret, the day afore yester- 
 day, as how them 'ere 'Ottenpot chap&, Molly- 
 nooks and Mahometan, knocked their customers 
 about, and byld 'em alive in steam, in order to 
 make their flesh tender : and that ven the poor 
 devils kicked the bucket, the insurrection fel- 
 lows brought 'em back to these here Hingeons 
 to be cut up for German saasages; and to 
 be byled over again, bones and all, to make 
 merry-go-taw ney soup, to be sent abroad to
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 173 
 
 their black 'Ottenpot relations, the nigger waga- 
 bones, in the Vest Hingees." 
 
 " Why, Buckhorse, you are surely not such 
 a fool as to believe all that silly nonsense !" re- 
 plied the writer, still laughing : " take my ad- 
 vice, my good fellow, go to Mahommed and 
 be shampooed properly : that is the sure and 
 only method of getting rid of your rheumatism ; 
 and don't be frightened at such bugbears as 
 these wags choose to conjure up." 
 
 The horse-dealer having some respect for 
 the writer's opinion and advice, and being 
 moreover urged by pain from his disorder, 
 visited Mahommed without delay, and in a 
 short time he completely recovered. 
 
 Meeting him soon afterwards, the writer in- 
 quired how he got on ; when he broke out 
 in the most hyperbolic praise of his Indian 
 physician. 
 
 " Oh ! what a nice man that 'ere Mister Ma- 
 hometan is, sure-ly ! he bamboozled me twen- 
 ty-eight times, at a guinea a time ; and now 
 I 'm as hearty as a buck. I heats four 
 pork saasages, or a couple o' rashers bryled,
 
 174 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 every mornin' for my dejoon ; I 'as a good 
 slice o' Westfaily ham, about 'alf a pound or 
 there away, and a couple o' nice heggs, for 
 lunch, wi' a can o' glorious home-brewed. Me 
 and Missus sits down to dinner at three, and 
 we pegs away in grand style, for I always 
 'ad a good happetite for my dinner, sick or 
 well ; and I drinks a bottle o' good port to 
 my own cheek, for Missus likes 'Ollands and 
 vater; veil, at supper, I 'as a nice rump- 
 steak, or pork-chop, bryled on the gridion, 
 and after a snecker o' strong harrack punch, 
 to warm my stomach, I goes to bed. Lord 
 bless you ! vhen I was so bad vith the 
 rheumatise, I couldn't heat nor drink nothin' 
 at all, not even half o' that ere ; but now 
 I 'm quite charmin', and I feels such a nungry 
 fit now and then, that I could heat an 'oss be- 
 hind the saddle, or heven a live cat stooed wi' 
 hingans. Only think o' the vonderful vorks o 1 
 natur !" 
 
 " I am glad to hear you are so well, Mr. 
 Buckhorse ; but, do you still retain the opinion 
 that Mahommed is a canibal ? v
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 175 
 
 " Lord bless you, Sir, no ! that vas a noax ; 
 Mister Mahometan is as nice a fellor as ever 
 breathed under Heaven's canipup ; and vhat 's 
 more nor that, he gave me an order for an "toss. 
 He 's such a good fellor, by G d ! that I 
 means to shew my Azwgratitude by getting him 
 a nunter." 
 
 The horse-dealer's sense of gratitude and 
 good feeling towards Mahommed will be seen 
 in the sequel : the latter wanted a good 
 riding-horse for about sixty guineas; but 
 Buckhorse felt the jockey rise within him, and 
 honesty, friendship, and honour were put to 
 flight. 
 
 After two or three weeks' delay, during 
 which he pretended to Mahommed that his 
 servants were searching all the fairs around, 
 he told him that every effort to procure him 
 " an 'igh bred 'unter" had failed ; and that 
 he was therefore afraid he should be obliged to 
 part with a favourite horse of his own, which 
 he would sooner " die than give iip to any other 
 person under the canipup of heaven, except his 
 dear friend, Mister Mahometan."
 
 176 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 Accordingly, the shampooer visited Buck- 
 horse's livery stables; and the latter ordered 
 a good-looking horse to be brought out : this 
 animal, however, had been entirely made -up 
 for sale, for he was spavined, glandered, and 
 broken-winded. The dealer, on this occasion, 
 thus addressed his partner : 
 
 " I say, Jobson, bring out that 'ere 'oss ; but, 
 for God's sake, don't let me see the going of 
 him : he 's a noble hanimal, and I made a 
 hoath, when I bought him, never to part wi' 
 him ; but, to oblige my dear friend, Mister 
 Mahometan, who bamboozled me so well, he 
 shall 'ave him, though it breaks my wery heart 
 to part wi' him. So, bring the poor thing out, 
 Jobson ; but I can't a-bear to stop to see the 
 last on him. I hopes, Mister Mahometan, 
 that you '11 use him well ; for he 's a gallows 
 good un to go, and as beautiful a creetur as 
 ever I see !" 
 
 Away went the hypocritical rogue, exclaim- 
 ing, " O Lord ! O Lord ! that I should live to 
 see the day of parting wi' that 'ere fine hani-
 
 A niUGIITON ODDITY. 177 
 
 mal r And away went poor Mahommed with 
 his precious bargain. 
 
 " By dint of the whip and spur, the latter 
 arrived at Brighton ; but although his new 
 master treated him with the utmost gentleness, 
 and notwithstanding his late owner's hyperboli- 
 cal praise, he turned out to be good for nothing ! 
 At length, poor Mahommed was obliged to sell 
 him for Three Guineas, to feed the hounds !" 
 
 Buckhorse, though, as already stated, as illi- 
 terate as any of the quadrupeds in his own sta- 
 bles, at one time took it into his head that his 
 parlour-table would be graced by placing there- 
 upon a large family Bible : accordingly, he 
 employed a friend, an auctioneer, to procure 
 the same for him at some sale ; enjoining him, 
 at the same time, to be sure to get " a good un 
 and beautifully bound." 
 
 " And I tell you what, Sam, v continued 
 he ; " whilst you are about it, better kill two 
 birds wi' one stone. If you can buy me a 
 couple of chevaliers for my chimley piece, good 
 
 vor,. r. N
 
 178 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 and cheap, my dear fellor, with a noblix* in 
 the centre, and a few fine marvel statutes and 
 picturs to stick about the 'ouse, I '11 be so 
 much obliged to you, my dear fellor, you can't 
 think : but take care to let 'em be good and 
 cheap, else I can't have ""em, you know, Sam."" 
 
 According to his instructions, the auctioneer 
 bought in several ornamental articles, which he 
 thought suitable for the decoration of the in- 
 terior of Buckhorse's domicile; but, as ill-luck 
 would have it, he could not readily lay his 
 hand on any second-hand Bible which, in regard 
 to binding, he thought good enough for his 
 friend. 
 
 A gentleman's library, however, coming under 
 the hammer, the thought struck him, as he 
 surveyed a shelf of folios, that one of these 
 volumes would answer the horse-dealer's pur- 
 pose equally well with the best copy of the 
 Holy Scriptures that ever issued from the 
 presses of Oxford or Cambridge : besides this, 
 he had a strong desire to play Buckhorse a 
 
 *A chimney ornament representing an obelisk, and 
 usually made of spar, or black marble.
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 179 
 
 trick. Accordingly, he picked out Beyer's 
 French dictionary, embellished with a dashing 
 frontispiece, displaying the head of the author, 
 and surrounded by miniature portraits of the 
 most celebrated French writers. Having packed 
 the book up with the chandeliers, busts, &c., 
 he sent the whole to Buckhorse''s residence. 
 
 The latter, proud of his new pieces of finery, 
 soon displayed them in their proper places; 
 but unfortunately, whilst exhibiting his pur- 
 chase to a neighbour, a few days afterwards, 
 smash went the centre ornament and one of the 
 chandeliers ! 
 
 In the mean time, the auctioneer did not 
 choose to call for payment, fearful that his 
 trick respecting the dictionary might have 
 been discovered, and, of course, anticipating a 
 severe reprimand ; but he was soon relieved 
 from this suspense, by the horse-dealer calling 
 on him to relate the misfortune above-men- 
 tioned. 
 
 " My dear Sam," said he, <c such a hacci- 
 dent ! you 've no idear !"* 
 
 " What accident, Mr. Buckhorse ? v inquired 
 N 2
 
 180 THE CLUBS OF LONDON'. 
 
 the auctioneer, apprehensive that it had some 
 reference to the Bible-hoax. 
 
 " My dear fellor," answered the horse- 
 dealer, "you know them 'ere chevaliers and 
 that 'ere noblix ! By the Lord! they're 
 smashed, Sam !" 
 
 " You don't say so ?" returned Sam, think- 
 ing they were broken during carriage. 
 
 " By the Lord Harry ! Sam, but they are 
 done for," responded Buckhorse ; " and vhat's 
 worse, Nanny, that 'ere b h of a maid o' 
 mine, as is always in mischief o' some sort, 
 smashed that 'ere beautiful naked heffigy of 
 the Wen us of Medicine as stood on the pedestral 
 in the corner, and broke the poor thing's nose : 
 she shoved her down wi' the broom handle. 
 I could almost cry, Sam, for that 'ere darling 
 himage ; she looked so lovely and fascerating, 
 that my wery mouth watered at the sight of 
 her dear legs and harms. But I dare say, Sam, 
 as I 'm quite a connoiseurer in them 'ere things, 
 as how you can get me another Wen us to put 
 in her place ?" 
 
 " Perhaps I can," returned Sam ; " but
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 181 
 
 how were the chandelier and obelisk broken ? 
 I assure you that I packed them very care- 
 fully." 
 
 " I know you did, my dear fellor," inter- 
 rupted the horse-dealer ; " but ye see, as I vas 
 a showing them to my neighbour, Squire 
 Wilkins, he, like a stoopid, being elibrated with 
 wynd and other spiritual and fomented liquors, 
 just after dinner, you know, lets 'em fall on the 
 hearth. It was so agri-coking^* Sam, you can't 
 think ; and Missus is so mad as I don't make 
 the Squire pay the damage : but that wouldn't 
 be genteel, Sam, would it ?" 
 
 " By no means," returned the auctioneer. 
 
 " Not," continued Buckhorse, " that I could 
 not make him pay the damage I have substained, 
 mind me, Sam ; but I likes to do the genteel 
 thing. Howsomever, if Wilkins, as Missus says, 
 wur a gentleman, he would make solitary 
 destitution, without more ado." 
 
 " True, Mr. Buckhorse," returned the auc- 
 tioneer, " but it is not worth thinking about ; 
 
 * Compound of aggravating and provoking.
 
 182 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 for, I dare say, I can replace the articles for 
 about the same money." 
 
 " Wery well, Sam, do so, my dear fellor ; 
 and while ye 're about it, try and get me a large 
 chevalier to be expended from the drawing-room 
 ceiling, just like Sir John Shelley's, you know; 
 and then ve'll be quite the tippy. Let it be 
 cheap tho'." 
 
 " Oh, certainly," said the sly auctioneer ; 
 who, perceiving that he might safely change 
 the subject, asked the horse-dealer, " How he 
 liked his folio Bible ?" 
 
 " Oh, my dear fellor, I never had such a 
 Bible in my life as that 'ere : I 'ave read it all 
 over from beginning to hend ; and the print is so 
 large, that it's quite hedifying. It really is a 
 capital Bible ; but as for the pictur, I never in 
 my life see such a beautiful likeness o' Jesus 
 Christ and his hangels ! I vas certain it vas a 
 wery waleable work the moment I set eyes 
 on it." 
 
 By his traffic in horse-flesh, of which no 
 dealer in Sussex was a better judge, and by
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 183 
 
 occasional betting at Lewes and other races, 
 Buckhorse, in the course of a few years, ac- 
 cumulated a very large sum of money ; and in 
 order to support the respectability which he 
 supposed his riches conferred on him, he re- 
 solved to commit the active part of his business 
 to his partner, and to set up a carriage. 
 
 In order to be quite genteel, he desired the 
 coachmaker to build him one, " spick-and-span 
 new ;" although several were shown to him of 
 handsome pattern which had just been finished. 
 
 "No, no," said Buckhorse;" by goles! I 
 von't stand that 'ere : I '11 have my own wehicle, 
 or none ; and I '11 have such a set of Bosses, as 
 were never seen in these here parts ; as beauti- 
 ful creeturs as ever the breath o 1 life was 
 put into : and as I intends to go on a tower 
 to Lunnun, I '11 'ave a coachman and footman 
 for Missus in reglar livery, vith eplogues on 
 their shoulders. So ye see, Mister Tomkins, 
 if so be as you likes to make me a hequipage, 
 as is the superior thing, I '11 'ave it and pay 
 for it : if not, vhy, ye see, I '11 send to Lunnun, 
 that's all."
 
 184 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 Not wishing to lose so good an order, Tom- 
 kins set to work, and soon produced a very 
 handsome carriage. He informed Buckhorse 
 that all was ready for starting, except the 
 coat of arms, which he desired might be fur- 
 nished without delay, in order to be painted on 
 the pannels. This was a poser ; but Buckhorse 
 soon found out a method of supplying the defi- 
 ciency, by going on the Lewes race-course, and 
 carefully inspecting all the equipages, in order 
 to choose the handsomest ! 
 
 At length, he fixed upon that of Sir John 
 Shelley (whom, by the by, ' he wished to rival 
 on more occasions than one) ; but the coach- 
 builder refused point-blank to commit so gross 
 a piracy, dreading of course a prosecution from 
 the Heralds' College. This decided the affair ; 
 for Buckhorse now swore that he would not 
 have the carriage, " He 'd see him d d first!" 
 
 Although in his own avocations, and indeed 
 in any case where there was a prospect of gain, 
 no man displayed more acuteness than Buck- 
 horse; still, in any tiling beyond his proper 
 sphere, our horse-dealer was as completely at
 
 A imiGIITON ODDITY. 185 
 
 sea, as his inveterate habit of using high sound- 
 ing words and phrases, and his ambition to 
 appear genteel, could carry him. This, on 
 many occasions, produced a charming confusion 
 of ideas, to the great entertainment of his audi- 
 tory. 
 
 He was particularly fond of using the word 
 " million," although he had not the least idea 
 of the value of this high number. Not only 
 would he say, " a million of thanks ! a million 
 of blessings!" but he likewise applied the word 
 to matters of greater importance. 
 
 On one occasion, whilst bestowing the most 
 hyperbolical praises on a hat which he had 
 bought at Brighton, he thus addressed the 
 shopkeeper who sold it to him : " Make a mil- 
 lion of 'em, my dear fellor, and put 'em in your 
 windur : only call 'em the Buckhorse hats., and 
 you'll sell a million a- day, by G d!" 
 
 At a time when the Brighton Banks were in 
 a tottering state, and when the gentlemen of 
 the neighbourhood were subscribing towards 
 their support, our horse-dealer was determined 
 not to be behind-hand in displaying his rnuni-
 
 186 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 ficence. Accordingly, he called at one of these 
 money-shops, where he kept an account, and 
 said, " I am wery sorry, genlemen, to see such 
 a conquest* o' people about your doors : I had 
 such a contrast-^- in squeedging my way through, 
 you can't think. Vy don't ye read the riot hact, 
 and send for a couple o' hofficers to have them 
 "ere scamps put in the cage ?" 
 
 " We have neither the wish nor the power to 
 do that, Mr. Buckhorse," replied one of the 
 partners. 
 
 " And vy not," returned the horse-dealer. 
 " But, never mind : I'll hextricate you from all 
 your difficulties : I means to support the 'ouse. 
 How much money do ye want, my boys ?" 
 
 " We are greatly obliged to you, Mr. Buck- 
 horse; whatever sum you please," said one of 
 the gentlemen, producing a book, which he 
 placed on the desk before him, and at the same 
 time offering him a pen. 
 
 " Never mind writing, my dear fellor,'' re- 
 turned Buckhorse; " only say the word: how 
 much do ye want P' 1 
 
 * Concourse. t Contest.
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 187 
 
 " I beg, Sir, to leave that to your goodness," 
 replied the Banker, again offering him the pen ; 
 " our friends write their names in this book, 
 and put the sum which they propose to accom- 
 modate us with, in case we should require as- 
 sistance, in the column opposite." 
 
 " Wery good plan, Mister Thingumy 
 wery good plan," returned the horse-dealer : 
 " but, d'ye see, since I had the rheumatise so 
 bad, I can't write a line, bless you. Do you 
 put my name down : it 's all the same, you 
 know." 
 
 " With pleasure, Mr. Buckhorse," replied 
 the Banker: " how much shall I say, Sir ?" 
 
 " Put me down for a million /" answered the 
 horse-dealer, slapping the Banker violently on 
 the back. 
 
 " A what ?" exclaimed the latter, starting 
 with amazement, and rubbing his shoulder 
 which smarted with the blow, at the same time 
 that his countenance betokened both pain and 
 displeasure at this rude mode of having a fa- 
 vour conferred upon him " a what ?""' he 
 again exclaimed.
 
 188 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " Why, a million, to be sure, my boy," 
 returned Buckhorse: "don't I speak plain 
 Henglish ? Ah, I thought I'd surprize you ; 
 but never mind 1 11 prop you up I "11 sup- 
 port you through thick and thin. 11 
 
 The partners, who were well aware of his 
 character, could not help smiling at the horse- 
 dealer's vanity and boasted patronage. At 
 length one of them said : " Mr. Buckhorse, we 
 are greatly obliged to you ; but a sum far 
 short of a million will be quite sufficient ; for, 
 thanks to our friends, we are well backed, and 
 can have any sum we may want at the shortest 
 notice : but, in keeping this book open for sig- 
 nature, we are more anxious to give our friends 
 an opportunity of showing their good will, than 
 from any idea that we shall be compelled to 
 trouble them. Now, if you will be good enough 
 to look over this list, you will see the several 
 sums which our friends have subscribed." 
 
 " Do you read it, my dear fellor do you 
 read it, 11 said Buckhorse. " I left my spec- 
 tikles at home, and I can't read a vord vith- 
 out 'em."
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 189 
 
 " Nor with 'em, you illiterate dog !" whisper- 
 ed the first partner, still rubbing his shoulder. 
 
 The Banker now began to read, and when he 
 came to the name of Sir John Shelley, Buck- 
 horse exclaimed, " Ah ! how much did he give? 
 I '11 beat 'im, hany 'ow." 
 
 " Sir John is down for 300/. Sir," replied 
 the Banker. 
 
 " Veil, put me down 350/. ; I should like to 
 know vhat Sir John vill say to that," said Buck- 
 horse, giving the other partner a hearty slap over 
 the nape of the neck, which brought his nose 
 down into the ink-stand, against the leaden rim 
 of which his forehead was considerably bruised. 
 
 The Banker, raising his head, appeared like 
 the knight of the rueful countenance. He 
 drew his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe 
 off the ink, and was about to expostulate with 
 Buckhorse, when the latter begged pardon, 
 saying it was all ' hacciden? and that he was 
 ' wery sorry.' 
 
 This apology was of course accepted ; and 
 the head partner, having wiped the mark of 
 Cain from his forehead, though he wished the
 
 190 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 horse-dealer at the devil, invited him, with 
 several other friends who had called on the 
 same errand, to dinner. Buckhorse was nothing 
 loth ; and, as was his custom on such occasions, 
 he had, as he himself elegantly expressed it, 
 " a regular blow out" 
 
 During this repast, and whilst swallowing 
 bumper after bumper, he gave the Banker 
 repeated assurances of farther support ; but 
 alternated his munificent promises with fre- 
 quent annoying questions as to the state of 
 their affairs, and whether " Mr. Thingumy 
 thought he would be able to stand the run ?" 
 
 The Banker was of course heartily tired with 
 the impertinence of his guest ; and, though by 
 no means communicative, at length became so 
 testy, that Buckhorse suspected a bankruptcy. 
 He had sufficient cunning, however, to conceal 
 his suspicion ; but, just as he was about to de- 
 part, what was the Banker's surprise to hear 
 him demand gold for some notes of the firm, 
 amounting to forty-six pounds ! 
 
 " Gold ! my good Sir/ 1 echoed the money- 
 changer, who most likely had not half that
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY'. 191 
 
 number of sovereigns in his house. " Why, 
 Mr. Buckhorse, I thought you meant to sup- 
 port us r 
 
 " So I do, my dear fellor; and I'll put 
 down my name for ten millions, if you want 
 'em/' replied the horse-dealer. " But you see, 
 Mr. TJiingumy, my neighbours are the most 
 suspiciousest set of rascals under the canipup 
 of heaven, and not one of 'em, by G d! will 
 take a Brighton note ; so ye see, them 'ere 
 flimsies o' yours an't worth twopence ; more 
 peticlary, as I have to pay on the nail for some 
 hay and corn for the 'osses, besides a longish 
 bill for 'potticary's stuff and gin for Missus. 
 But I tell ye what, I von't be 'ard ; gi'e me 
 Bank-of-Englanders : I 'm blowed if the scamps 
 
 dare refuse them, any how ; b st "em !" 
 
 In order to put an end to this disagreeable 
 palaver, the Banker was compelled to untie a 
 parcel of notes just received from Thread- 
 needle-street, and he exchanged some of them 
 for his own, with as good grace as the desire 
 of not offending a rich customer enabled him 
 to assume.
 
 THK CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 But what was his astonishment, and how great 
 his vexation, when his cunning guest, the next day, 
 accompanied by his partner Jobson, drew out of 
 the Bank a balance which he had there of 1 500/ ! 
 saying, he was " wery sorry to disappint their 
 hexpectations," and that, although he should be 
 happy to lend them " millions upon millions, it 
 vas necessary to be circumspectious ; for he vas 
 afeard they could not stand their ground. " 
 
 " There is your balance, Mr. Buekhorse," 
 said his host of yesterday, counting out, and 
 indignantly handing over 1500/. in Bank 
 notes " there is your balance, Sir count it." 
 
 " Veil ! if I didn't alvays say as you were a 
 good honest fellor, after all," returned the horse- 
 dealer. " I vonder vhat the scamps means by 
 saying that 'you'r a goin 1 . I tell you vhat, Mis- 
 ter Thingumy, I don't vish to put you to hin- 
 conveenence, because I bean't in liaiyal (actual) 
 vant o 1 the stuff', but ye see, if so be " 
 
 " Very well, Sir, 11 interrupted the Banker, 
 highly piqued, " you are welcome to leave the 
 cash, if you please, or to take it with you ; just 
 as you like. I have no objection to enter it 
 again in the book."
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 193 
 
 " Wery well," returned Buckhorse ; " if so 
 be as you can gi'e me hundeceptional s'curity in 
 these here dangerous times, vy, d' ye see, I 've 
 no hobjection to leave the flimsies wf ye." 
 
 " You be d d !" replied the Banker, amidst 
 a roar of laughter among the customers at the 
 counter. 
 
 " Oh, wery well!" returned Buckhorse; "as 
 ye 're so saacy, vy, d' ye see, I von't leave 'em at 
 all : so, good morning to ye, Mr. Thingum- 
 bob r 
 
 " Good morning, Sir," returned the irritated 
 Banker; "I hope never to see your face in my 
 office again." 
 
 " Hookey!" replied Buckhorse, turning round 
 and placing his forefinger significantly on his 
 nose, " I doesn't mean it ; if you catches me in 
 this here shop again, call me donkey, that 's all. 
 I 've no notion o' your himpert'nence, Mister 
 Vipper-snapper." 
 
 Away he went, but returned in about ten 
 minutes, saying, " Veil now, Mr. Thingumbob, 
 I dare say as how you thinks me a hoaf, but I 
 means to show you that I an't no such thing. 
 
 VOL. i. o
 
 194 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 Vhat 's the use o 1 these here screens* o' yours ? 
 nobody '11 take 'em, so you must 'ave 'em back, 
 they 're no use to nobody." 
 
 " What do you mean, Mr. Buckhorse, by 
 pestering us in this manner, when you see us 
 so busy ?" demanded the Banker. 
 
 " Vy I 'm wery glad to see ye so busy, Mis- 
 ter Thingumy, and long continivance to it, v 
 replied Buckhorse, sneeringly, as he looked 
 towards the crowd who were elbowing their 
 way into the office. " But first come first 
 sarved, all over the world, you know; so, ye 
 see, as ye 're so obstropolous, I vants England- 
 en for these here." 
 
 " Then you must wait," returned the Banker, 
 bouncing to the other end of the counter. 
 
 " Veil ! if I han't 'stonished at your him- 
 prence," exclaimed Buckhorse ; " but it shows 
 your broughrins up, any how ; and I must 
 compute it to your hignorance Ah ! you may 
 laugh, my worthies," (addressing the gentlemen 
 who stood in the shop to give the proprietors 
 countenance, by offering bank of England notes 
 
 * Cant word for Bank-notes.
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 195 
 
 in exchange for those of the firm,) " but you 11 
 see the end on 't afore long. Only just look at the 
 hingratitude o' them 'ere chaps for me keeping 
 'em out o' their troubles : warn't I yesterday all 
 of a prespiration wi' squeedging and scroudg- 
 ing through them 'ere hoceans o' customers 
 o' theirs and all for what ? vhy, to put my 
 name down in that 'ere book for three-hundred- 
 and-fifty pound, b st 'em P' 
 
 " And you are welcome to take your name 
 out as soon as you please," replied one of the 
 partners, highly nettled ; at the same time seiz- 
 ing up the book, and drawing his pen through 
 Buckhorse's name ; " there, Sir,"" he continued, 
 " we don't want your assistance." 
 
 " Don't ye," returned the horse-dealer ; 
 " veil then, gi 1 me the Englanders for this here 
 paper o' your's, and see if ever I take one o' 
 your screens again : that I von't, never no more, 
 as sure as my name's Jem Buckhorse !" 
 
 " You must wait your turn, Sir," replied the 
 Banker. 
 
 " And 'ow long must I vait, pray ?" in- 
 quired Buckhorse. 
 
 o 2
 
 196 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " Can't say, perhaps two hours," returned 
 the money-changer. 
 
 " Two hours !" exclaimed the horse-dealer, 
 " vy, you humbug, vhat do you mean by that 
 'ere hinsolence? Oh ! I see as how it 's all a 
 manoover, a reg'lar do; but I von't stand no 
 nonsense from ne'er a screen malefactor in the 
 'nited kingdoms o' France or Hireland, nor of 
 Hingland to boot. I only axes for my own, 
 and my own I '11 'ave, or I '11 know for 
 why." 
 
 " You are very troublesome, Sir," observed 
 the Banker; "and, if you cannot hold your 
 peace, I must send for a constable." 
 
 " Vill you, by G-d ? I should like to see that 
 'ere. I axes you civilly afore these yere sus- 
 pectible vitnesses, and in the name o' his ma- 
 jesty King George and the Parliament, vither 
 you intends immedately, and vithout no more 
 ado, to gi' me Lunnun notes for these here rags 
 o" 1 your's, every von on 'em ? If ye don't, I '11 
 sarve ye wi' a sassarara, * and have ye ar- 
 
 * Writ of Certiorari.
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 197 
 
 ranged* and parsecuted according to law, that's 
 all." 
 
 The friends of the house who stood by, al- 
 though nearly convulsed with laughter, now 
 interfered : they had all along endeavoured to 
 mollify him by whispers, and tried to smooth 
 down his irascibility ; but at length they saw 
 it was high time to stop the current of his dan- 
 gerous abuse, by offering to exchange the 
 paper. 
 
 " Come, come, Mr. Buckhorse," said one of 
 these gentlemen, " there is no use in being so 
 furious ; as you seem to be in a hurry, and as 
 the bankers are too busy to attend to you, 
 I don't mind accommodating you with a hun- 
 dred pounds myself." . 
 
 " And I r ll do a couple of hundreds more," 
 said another. 
 
 " I don't mind changing three hundred," 
 said a third. 
 
 " Vill you, by G-d ?" exclaimed Buckhorse. 
 " Upon my soul, gen'lemen, I 'm wery much 
 
 * Arraigned.
 
 198 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 obliged to you :" and having effected the ex- 
 change, he added, " I vish ye joy on "em, gen'le- 
 men, and vould advise ye to get rid of 'era as 
 soon as ye can ; for by G , I vouldn't give a 
 farden a bushel for 'em !" 
 
 This last hit was so intolerable, that to prevent 
 farther annoyance, the head partner neglected 
 every other person to attend to Buckhorse ; to 
 whom, with a most angry frown, he counted 
 out the requisite number of Bank of England 
 notes. The latter pocketed the cash with the 
 greatest sang-froid; and as he was elbowing his 
 way out, exclaimed to the crowd, " That 's your 
 sort, my hearties; change your flimsies as fast 
 as you can : they have lots of Englanders, I Ve 
 got mine, howsomever : so the Devil take the 
 hindmost/' 
 
 But, alas ! poor Buckhorse did not bear off' 
 the palm so triumphantly as he expected. In 
 passing through the crowd, to whom he thus 
 foolishly gave information respecting his trea- 
 sure, his pocket was picked of his favourite 
 Englanders ; which he was never able to recover : 
 for, being ignorant of the numbers, his blunder-
 
 A BRIGHTON ODDITY. 199 
 
 ing vanity and overbearing insolence, of course, 
 prevented the irritated bankers from affording 
 him the least assistance in tracing them. 
 
 The above-mentioned loss preyed heavily on 
 the mind of Buckhorse for a long time; but at 
 the period of its occurrence, his health, which 
 was before but indifferent, became so sensibly 
 affected, that he took to his bed, and after a 
 few days made up his mind that he should die. 
 Accordingly, he sent for the clergyman of his 
 parish, (although he had never been in the habit 
 of going to church, nor of attending to religious 
 duties of any sort,) and wished to have the sa- 
 crament administered to him ; thinking that 
 this would not only be a panacea for all his 
 sins, but likewise a passport into Heaven ! 
 
 After a few preliminary compliments, the 
 clergyman said to him, " Well, Mr. Buckhorse, 
 I hope you have set your house in order pre- 
 vious to receiving the sacrament of the Lord's 
 Supper." 
 
 " Vhy, that is true, parson," replied the sick
 
 200 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 man ; ' ; the 'ouse is no great shakes, and as to 
 horder, every thing is topsy-turvy since I took 
 to my bed ; b st both missus and maid, say I; 
 but if I only get up and about, see how I '11 
 sarve 'em out !" Then, elevating his voice, he 
 cried aloud to the servant, " Nanny, you d d 
 dirty b h ! call your missus down, and clear 
 the 'ouse up, both o* ye ; I '11 be d d if the 
 wery parson doesn't see that it 's hout of order." 
 
 The clergyman, seeing that the invalid was 
 not in a fit state for receiving the holy sacra- 
 ment, explained to him the nature of the rite, 
 and having conjured him to give up profane 
 swearing, &c., and to think of a future state, 
 bade him good morning, saying he would call 
 again when his mind was more composed. 
 
 Buckhorse replied, " Wery well, good bye, 
 my dear Sir, God Almighty bless you ! next 
 time you come I shall have the whole 'ouse 
 scoured down from top to bottom f"
 
 Sill PHILIP FRANCIS, &C. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 ROGER WILBRAHAM AND SIR 
 PHILIP FRANCIS. 
 
 THE late Sir Philip Francis, who, during 
 many years of his life, was a member of the 
 House of Commons, spoke on all questions of 
 importance on the side of Opposition. He was 
 the convivial companion of Fox, and, during 
 the short administration of that statesman, was 
 made a Knight of the Bath. 
 
 Roger Wilbraham, who was also on the same 
 side, came up one evening to the whist table, 
 at Brookes's, where Sir Philip, who for the first 
 time wore the ribbon of the order, was serious- 
 ly engaged in the middle of a rubber ; and 
 thus accosted him. 
 
 Laying hold of the ribbon, and examining 
 it for some time before* he spoke, he said ' " So
 
 202 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 this is the way they have rewarded you at last ; 
 they have given you a little bit of red ribbon 
 for your services, Sir Philip, have they ? A 
 pretty bit of red ribbon to hang about your 
 neck ; and that satisfies you, does it ? Now I 
 wonder what I shall have. What do you think 
 they will give me, Sir Philip ?" 
 
 The newly-made Knight, who had twenty- 
 five guineas depending on the rubber, and who 
 was not very well pleased at the interruption, 
 suddenly turned round, and casting on him a 
 ferocious look, exclaimed, " A halter, and be 
 d d to you !"
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 203 
 
 XV. 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. (CONTINUED.) 
 
 As some farther* account of this extraordi- 
 nary and wayward individual may not be unac- 
 ceptable to the reader, he is here presented with 
 a short sketch of the principal actions of his 
 life. 
 
 George Robert Fitzgerald was the eldest son 
 of Mr. Fitzgerald, of Rockfield, near Castlebar, 
 in Ireland, by Lady Mary Hervey, sister to the 
 Earl of Bristol. He was educated at Eton, and 
 at Trinity College, Dublin ; and his knowledge 
 of the classics, and other branches of polite litera- 
 ture, was pretty much on a par with that of other 
 
 * This account should have been printed before, see 
 page 45, but was mislaid until the intermediate sheets 
 were worked off. ED.
 
 204 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 young gentlemen of his age and period. That 
 his talents were above contempt, may be seen by 
 a poem entitled " The Riddle? inscribed by 
 him to Lord Earlsfort, afterwards Lord Chief 
 Justice of the King's Bench, in Ireland. 
 
 Whilst at Trinity College, where duelling 
 was so common that an affair of honour of 
 some sort generally preceded Morning Prayers, 
 it will be supposed that a man of Fitzgerald's 
 disposition could not long avoid having a finger 
 in the pie ; this supposition, however, would 
 not be strictly correct; for, although he en- 
 gaged in various quarrels with his fellow-stu- 
 dents, and was once saved from death by a par- 
 ticular friend of the writer, who wrested the 
 sword from the hand of his powerful antagonist, 
 (the famous Buck English,) as he was about to 
 plunge it in his back, after a hard chase, and at 
 a most unfair advantage, for Fitzgerald was 
 unarmed; still these quarrels were not of his 
 own seeking, and it was not until a few years 
 afterwards that his duelling propensities burst 
 forth so luxuriantly. . 
 
 Being compelled, according to the universal
 
 LIGHTING KITZGEKALU. 205 
 
 custom of Irish gentlemen of that period, to 
 send a challenge to a person of the name of 
 Swords, for a very slight offence in a public 
 assembly, the latter gentleman, by the first dis- 
 charge of his pistol, shot off a part of Fitzge- 
 rald's skull, and materially injured the fore part 
 of his brain. The consequence was delirium 
 for a considerable time; but those who knew 
 him intimately, are of opinion that he was af- 
 fected by a certain aberration of intellect until 
 the day of his death ; for, from the period of 
 this wound, he became hot-headed, insolent, 
 quarrelsome, cunning, and ferocious. Let mo- 
 dern phrenologists account for these phenomena 
 as they can. 
 
 The next rencontre in which he was engaged 
 was in the town of Galway, where he was with 
 his regiment, having just been raised to the 
 rank of Captain of Dragoons. He one day 
 espied a pretty girl seated behind the counter 
 of a tobacconist's shop in that town, and un- 
 der pretence of buying snuff, got into conversa- 
 tion with her. Whilst she was delivering his 
 box to him, our hero seized her by the arm and
 
 206 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 ravished a kiss. He was proceeding to farther 
 liberties, when a tall, stout man, who had wit- 
 nessed the whole transaction from his own shop 
 on the other side of the street, entered and ar- 
 rested his arm as he was pulling off the young 
 woman's handkerchief. 
 
 " Hollo ! ye villain of the world !" exclaimed 
 the man, " that little girl is my own property, 
 for I 'm betrothed to her these five weeks ; and 
 if any d d ras"kal daurs to lay a finger on her, 
 he shall fight me without any delay at all." 
 
 " That is not so certain !" replied Fitzgerald, 
 eyeing his athletic opponent : " I am a Captain 
 in His Majesty's service ; therefore, if I had 
 given you offence, it is beneath the dignity of 
 a gentleman to fight with a common shopkeeper, 
 which I take you to be ; therefore, I shall wish 
 you good morning !" 
 
 " Oh ! by J s ! shopkeeper here, or jontle- 
 maa there !" returned the man, " that won 1 ! 
 save ye, my darling. My name is Cornailius 
 O'Brien ; I 'm a leather-cutthur by thrade ; 
 and I '11 have satisfaction this minute, or I '11 
 brake every bone in yer skin. So now, my
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 
 
 dear," continued he, as he shut the door, and 
 placed his back against it, "ye '11 just be 
 plaised to tell me yer good-looking name ?" 
 
 " I am Captain Fitzgerald, Sir, and I desire 
 you instantly to open that door." 
 
 " Captain Fitzgerald, or Captain Divil," re- 
 plied O'Brien, " 1 11 not do that same until ye 
 promise to gi'e me satisfaction ." 
 
 " Upon my honour ! Sir," returned Fitz- 
 gerald, " I meant no affront either to you or 
 the lady ; and if I have done so, I am sorry 
 for it." 
 
 " By J s ! then, my dear/' said Cornelius, 
 " ye convince me that ye have no honour at all, 
 at all ; for didn't I see ye ill-thrate the darling, 
 with my own eyes ? therefore, as ye have tould 
 me a d d lie, why, d 1 ye see, I '11 make ye con- 
 form to the rules of the little county Galway, by 
 fighting me directly ; for I won't take yer pro- 
 mise to give me satisfaction, at no price." 
 
 Fitzgerald, seeing that there was no alter- 
 native, set his invention to work how he should 
 overcome the leather-cutter, or come off un- 
 hurt. Accordingly, having adjourned to a
 
 208 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 room above-stairs, he received a pistol from his 
 opponent. Having tossed up for the first shot, 
 which fell to O'Brien, the latter seated himself 
 across a table, and levelled his pistol so exactly 
 at Fitzgerald's head, that there appeared little 
 chance of his escaping instant death. 
 
 Watching his opportunity, therefore, when the 
 tradesman was drawing the trigger, Captain 
 Fitzgerald, at that instant, roared out " boh /" 
 and the ball passed over his head into the ceiling. 
 It was now Fitzgerald's turn, but he declined 
 firing, on condition that O'Brien should ask his 
 pardon ; which, after some hesitation, he agreed 
 to do before the young lady in the shop, who 
 had all this time been quivering with terror at 
 the probable result of a duel so singularly con- 
 ducted: 
 
 Captain Fitzgerald soon afterwards married 
 a Miss Conolly, sister to the member for Lon- 
 donderry, and cousin-german to the Duke of 
 Leinster, and received with her a fortune of 
 ten thousand pounds ; his father at the same 
 time executing a deed of settlement, by which 
 he was to pay him a thousand pounds a-year ;
 
 FIGHTING FITXGTCRAT.D. 209 
 
 but as this annuity was paid very irregularly, 
 or rather not at all, it became a bone of con- 
 tention between father and son, and was ulti- 
 mately the cause of Fitzgerald's ignominious 
 death. 
 
 Soon after his marriage, he left his native 
 country, and resided in various parts of France 
 and England, for about ten years, during which 
 tiine he led a life of dissipation and gambling, 
 and fell into innumerable scrapes, a specimen of 
 which we have already given, and from which 
 he generally escaped with reputation to his va- 
 lour, but to his disgrace as a member of society. 
 
 He became at length absolutely notorious, 
 from certain disgraceful circumstances which 
 arose out of an adventure at Vauxhall, in the 
 summer of 1773. He had gone thither with the 
 Honourable Mr. (afterwards Lord) Lyttleton, 
 a Captain Croftes, and several others, all of 
 whom being inebriated with wine, conducted 
 themselves in a very insolent and unbecoming 
 manner. 
 
 In the course of their perambulations round 
 the gardens, they met a party of ladies, under 
 
 VOL. i. P
 
 210 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 the protection of the well-known Rev. Henry 
 Bate, (afterwards Sir H. B. Dudley,) the pro- 
 prietor and editor of the Morning Post newspa- 
 per. Our heroes commenced the attack, by leer- 
 ing, laughing aloud, and making impertinent 
 remarks at the ladies ; one of whom, Mrs. 
 Hartley the actress, being put completely out of 
 countenance by the impudent stare of Fitzgerald, 
 burst into tears. This was too much, and it 
 very naturally called down upon him and his 
 companions the severe reprehensions of Mr. 
 Bate, who designated their conduct as most 
 unmanly and ungentlemanlike. A reply fol- 
 lowed of course ; and this was succeeded by a 
 most unhandsome retort from Captain Croftes, 
 who made a very indecent and unjust remark 
 on the reverend gentleman, in allusion to Mrs. 
 Hartley . 
 
 Mr. Bate, who was highly irritated, now 
 struck Croftes a violent blow, which was of 
 course returned ; but the Parson was more than 
 a match for the Captain at fisty-cuffs, and 
 would, no doubt, have given his antagonist o 
 sound thrashing, had not the screams of the
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 
 
 ladies, and the blustering and noise of the gen- 
 tlemen, called around the combatants a host of 
 persons eager to witness the fray. Fitzgerald, 
 seeing that his friend had the worst of it, at 
 length interposed; suggesting that mutual sa- 
 tisfaction might be given and received in ano- 
 ther place, and in a more agreeable manner to 
 both parties, than before so many spectators. 
 This advice was adopted, and cards were ex- 
 changed. 
 
 The belligerent parties met at the Cocoa- 
 Tree, next morning, according to appointment, 
 for the determination of their quarrel ; which 
 very soon, by the interposition of friends, was 
 happily adjusted; apologies being made on 
 both sides. 
 
 At the very instant, however, that Bate and 
 Croftes were reconciled, and were shaking 
 hands, Fitzgerald strode into the room, and, 
 in a very rude and insolent manner, demanded 
 that the former should give immediate satis- 
 faction to a Captain Miles, his friend, who, 
 he said, had been grossly insulted by the 
 clergyman the evening before.
 
 212 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 Miles was now introduced, and a violent al- 
 tercation arose between Bate and Fitzgerald ; 
 the former declaring that he did not recollect 
 ever seeing Captain Miles's face before, and 
 that therefore he could not have in any way 
 offended him ; whilst the latter declared, upon 
 his honour, that he himself had witnessed the 
 alleged affront to Captain Miles, and therefore, 
 as his friend, insisted on the satisfaction of one 
 gentleman to another. Miles backed this decla- 
 ration upon his honour, and (as preconcerted 
 between him and Fitzgerald) swore a tremen- 
 dous oath, that if Mr. Bate did not immediately 
 strip and box with him, he (Miles) would 
 post him for a coward, and cane him hand- 
 somely wherever he met with him. 
 
 The parson was thunderstruck; and, though 
 one of the fancy of his day, he for a time 
 urged the vulgarity of the proposed exhibition; 
 saying that, " Although he was by no means 
 afraid of the issue, he did not choose to fight in 
 any way unbecoming a gentleman :" adding, 
 " that that, for one of his cloth, was bad enough 
 in the opinion of the public ; but having no do-
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 
 
 sire to flinch, he was ready to meet Captain 
 Miles, either with sword or pistol, whenever 
 and wherever he chose to appoint." 
 
 This proposition, however reasonable, was by 
 no means satisfactory, either to Captain Miles 
 or to the honourable Mr. Fitzgerald, for they 
 had a particular object in view, and they both 
 insisted on their first demand ; the former 
 declaring that he was inexorable on the point 
 of pugilism, and repeating his former threat of 
 personal chastisement. 
 
 The parson was puzzled how to act, until 
 Miles at length said something about cowardice, 
 which he could not stomach ; therefore, to pre- 
 vent Fitzgerald, Lyttleton, &c., from enjoying 
 a triumph at his expense, Mr. Bate consented 
 to encounter the redoubted Captain immedi- 
 ately, and on his own terms. A ring was ac- 
 cordingly formed, the combatants stripped, and 
 Fitzgerald exulted in the prospect of seeing 
 Bate soundly thrashed. But he reckoned with- 
 out his host : for, in less than fifteen minutes, 
 the parson beat the Captain almost to a jelly. 
 The latter having at length cried peccavi to
 
 214 THE CUJBS OF LONDOX, 
 
 Mr. Bate's repeated question, of " Have you 
 had sufficient satisfaction ?" the poor devil was 
 taken away half dead, his eyes being so closed 
 that he could not see his way home. 
 
 Here the matter rested for the present ; but, 
 in a few days afterwards, it was discovered that 
 Captain Miles was no less a personage than 
 Fitzgerald's own footman, whom (being an ath- 
 letic fellow and an expert pugilist) his master 
 had dressed up in military style, and dubbed an 
 officer and gentleman, for the purpose of pu- 
 nishing and disgracing the parson ! 
 
 Mr. Bate now very properly exposed the 
 whole affair to the public, in the Morning Post : 
 designating the conduct of the parties privy to 
 the affair as most infamous. This produced 
 recriminatory letters in all the other newspa- 
 pers ; but the public were unanimously of 
 opinion that our heroes had entirely degraded 
 themselves from the rank of gentlemen. Croftes 
 was deprived of his commission as an officer ; 
 Mr. Lyttleton, after being shunned by his com- 
 panions for some time, at length made the 
 amende honorable, and was again received into
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 215 
 
 society ; but Fitzgerald, though he published a 
 a sort of bastard apology, was universally con- 
 demned, not only by the gentlemen of the 
 army, but by all ranks, and in all companies. 
 
 One gentleman, Captain Scawen, of the 
 Guards, reprobated his conduct in such severe 
 terms, that, to prevent himself being shunned 
 by the whole of his friends and associates, 
 Fitzgerald thought it necessary to call him out, 
 or bully him into an apology. Meeting him, 
 therefore, at the Cocoa-Tree, he demanded, in 
 a swaggering and ferocious manner, " Whether 
 Captain Scawen had ever dared to take liberties 
 with his name and character ?" 
 
 " Liberties, Sir," answered the Captain ; " no 
 liberties can be taken with that which is already 
 infamous. I avow having reprobated your con- 
 duct, which is degrading to a gentleman ; and I 
 shall continue to do so until you make due 
 amends to Mr. Bate for the insult you have so 
 unworthily cast upon him." 
 
 Fitzgerald was enraged beyond measure, and 
 challenged Scawen, on the spot, to fight with 
 swords; the latter, however, being aware of
 
 216 THK CLUBS OF LONDON. - 
 
 Fitzgerald's reputed superiority over himself 
 and others in the use of that weapon, declined 
 this mode of settling the dispute ; but offered to 
 .fight him with pistols wherever he pleased. 
 To this, Fitzgerald's brave, spirit would not ac- 
 cede ; though, according to the etiquette of all 
 modern duellos., the challenged person invaria- 
 bly has the choice of weapons. 
 
 In refusing his consent, however, to so fair 
 and so proper an alternative, our hero chose 
 to add some very insulting expressions, which 
 induced Captain Scawen to cane him soundly 
 round the coffee-room. The consequence was 
 eternal disgrace, or immediate consent to meet 
 his opponent on his own ground. He chose 
 the latter ; and the parties set out in a few days 
 for Flanders, with their surgeons and seconds. 
 
 They first met at Lisle, according to Fitz- 
 gerald's appointment, and all matters relating 
 to the duel being adjusted, they arrived on the 
 ground, in the Austrian territory, on the first 
 day of September. In describing this extraor- 
 dinary lenconln-. we cannot do better than 
 make use of the words of Captain Fagan, Fitz-
 
 .FIGHTING EIT/C. liKALD. 217 
 
 geralcPs second, as they appeared in one of the 
 prints of the period : 
 
 " When the gentlemen came to the ground, 
 which was in the Queen's country, between,. 
 Pont-au-Tressin and Tournay, Mr. Fitzgerald 
 loaded his pistols; and Captain Nugent of the 
 Guards, Mr. Scawen's second, assisted the latter 
 to load his. It was agreed that the distance 
 should be ten steps, which was measured by the 
 seconds ; and the choice of places was deter- 
 mined by throwing up a piece of money, by 
 which it fell upon Mr. Sea wen. 
 
 " The principals then took their ground, and 
 the seconds retired. Captain Scawen asked 
 Mr. Fitzgerald if he would fire first ; which 
 proposition he accepted, and immediately dis- 
 charged his pistol : the ball passed under Mr. 
 Sea wen's chin. Mr. Scawen then presented and 
 levelled his pistol; but Mr. Fitzgerald, in 
 bringing his SECOND pistol to a level, ACCI- 
 DENTALLY discharged it before Mr. Scawen 
 had fired of his: upon which Mr. Scawen 
 said, ' Mr. Fitzgerald, you have fired your 
 second pistol T To which, Mr. Fitzgerald re-
 
 218 THE CLUBS Of LONDON. 
 
 plied, ' It is true, Sir; but I assure you it was 
 merely accidental, and I ask your pardon for 
 it.' And then, advancing a pace or two to- 
 wards Mr. Scawen, Mr. Fitzgerald added, 
 * You have both your pistols, Sir; I desire 
 you will fire them, and we will both load 
 again/* 
 
 * This part of Pagan's account was positively con- 
 tradicted by Captains Nugent and Pigott, who pub- 
 lished another account, of which the following is an 
 extract : " Mr. Sc;iwen, in going to his ground, asked 
 Mr. Fitzgerald if he chose to fire first ? who replied, 
 " it was a matter of indifference to him :" but altering 
 his opinion, said, " he would take the ^first shot;" to 
 which Mr. Scawen readily assented. Mr. Fitzgerald 
 then presented his pistol, and fired : the shot seemed to 
 pass very near Mr. Scawen. After Mr. Fitzgerald had 
 fired his first pistol, he took hold of the other, and stood 
 with it in the attitude of presenting, to receive Mr. 
 Scawen's fire. Mr Scawen then presented his pistol ; 
 but before he could pull the trigger, was surprised at the 
 report of Mr. Fitzgerald's second pistol. On this, Mr. 
 Scawen immediately recovered his ; telling Mr. Fitz- 
 gerald, at the same time, ' that as both his pistols were 
 discharged, he could not think of firing at him,' and in- 
 stantly discharged his in the air. Mr. Fitzgerald replied, 
 " I assure you, I did not mean it; my pistol went off by 
 accident: but I 'LI, LOAD AGAIN ! ! !" The seconds and 
 surgeons here interposed, &c. &c.
 
 F1GHT1NC FITZGKKALU. 319 
 
 " Mr. Scavven then said, ' Sir, it makes 
 no difference ; / am glad it happened so ;' 
 and immediately came up to Mr. Fitzgerald, 
 and addressing himself to him, told him, 
 ' if lie had said any thing disrespectful (!) 
 against him, it must have been when he was 
 disordered with liquor ; and he was extremely 
 sorry for it.' Then, taking a cane out of one 
 of the surgeons' hands, he delivered it to Mr. 
 Fitzgerald, who very lightly laid it on Mr. 
 Scawen's shoulders : and afterwards told Mr. 
 Scawen, ' that he was very sorry for what he 
 had said of him, as he now behaved like a 
 gentleman !' 
 
 " The gentlemen then shook hands, went 
 and spent the evening together, and parted 
 perfectly reconciled!" 
 
 Thus ended this curious affair, which made a 
 great noise at the time. How Scawen could 
 have been reconciled, or spend the evening with, 
 but, above all things, make an apology to, a man 
 who had behaved so ill, and who had, moreover, 
 taken such a murdering advantage of him on the 
 Held of battle, is unaccountable: it certainly
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 shows to what a daring pitch Fitzgerald could 
 go; and proves the dread (?) in which his name 
 was universally held. But this sort of advan- 
 tage was not new to our hero : on a previous oc- 
 casion of the same sort (the particulars of which 
 the writer does not well recollect) Fitzgerald 
 shot his antagonist through the head, without no- 
 tice or warning, the instant the unfortunate man 
 took his ground ! 
 
 By this time Fitzgerald's money and charac- 
 ter being nearly gone, death withdrew his wife 
 from a more protracted view of the extravagan- 
 cies and mad quarrels which arose out of his 
 constant attendance at the gaming table ; she 
 left him a daughter, the only fruit of their 
 union. His finances were now in that state of 
 fluctuation and uncertainty which his skill in 
 gambling, or the chance of the die, invariably 
 gives rise to in the condition of all professed 
 votaries of the black art; for his remittances 
 from Ireland were very uncertain, and very 
 small. He was literally a black-leg, and many 
 quarrels grew out of his unblushing attempts at
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 221 
 
 pillaging the unwary. When a pigeon was en- 
 trapped, his associates pounced upon him ; and 
 if he resisted plucking to the last feather, Fitz- 
 gerald was at hand, as the champion of the 
 gang, to frighten their victim into submission. 
 This he did, generally, by his insolent air and 
 overbearing manner, but more frequently by 
 his very name. 
 
 Being engaged in an affair of this sort with a 
 gentleman named Walker, a young cornet of 
 the light dragoons, several angry pamphlets 
 passed between them, among which was one 
 entitled " An Appeal to the Jockey Club," by 
 Fitzgerald, in which he made the following- 
 boast of his dexterity in the art of duelling : 
 " I know," said he, " from trials successively 
 repeated, twenty times, one after another, that 
 I can, at the distance of six paces, hit any part 
 of the human body, to a line, which Mr. Wal- 
 ker may possibly know is only the twelfth part 
 of an inch." In another part of this pamphlet 
 were the following words: " As to good qualities, 
 some I have, perhaps, though few in number;
 
 THK CLUBS OF LONDOX. 
 
 this, however, I can say for myself, wo man 
 can impeach my courage in the jield, my honour 
 on the turf, or my credit on the Royal Ex- 
 change ! ! /" 
 
 In his paper warfare, Fitzgerald generally 
 called in the assistance of a brother gamester, 
 named Timothy Brecknock. This man had 
 been well educated, but a. faux pas in his youth 
 had compelled him to go into voluntary exile. 
 Returning from the Continent on his father's 
 death, he commenced the life of a man of ton, 
 and figured as such for several years, both in 
 Bath and London. But his fortune being dila- 
 pidated by gambling, approaching poverty urg- 
 ed him to levy with interest upon other victims 
 those pecuniary mulcts which he himself had 
 contributed during his own noviciate. 
 
 Brecknock, moreover, commenced the study 
 of the law, in which he made some progress, 
 and became a member of Lincoln's Inn. There 
 are several remarkable stories told of his inge- 
 
 O 
 
 nuity at quibble and fraud, in the few cases 
 which were committed to his care. Something 
 of this kind coming to light, he was again com-
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 
 
 pelled to quit the kingdom. On his return, 
 after an absence of several years, his tricks 
 were so well remembered, that he had little 
 opportunity of practice in the legal profession. 
 He accordingly commenced author * ; in which 
 capacity, as well as at the gaming-table, he was 
 useful to Fitzgerald, until the machinations 
 of the one, joined to the ferocity of the other, 
 caused the ultimate ruin and untimely end of 
 both. 
 
 * Tim. Rrecknock was by no means contemptible as a 
 writer. He published several poems and political 
 tracts ; and, for several years, wrote in one of the 
 London Journals, under the name of " Attorney-General 
 to the Gazetteer.'' In 17G4, he published a pamphlet 
 entitled ' Droit de Roi,' which being denounced in the 
 House of Lords, as favouring arbitrary principles, was 
 ordered to be burnt by the common hangman ! Tim. 
 kept up the notoriety which this affair conferred on 
 him, by turning common informer; which reputable 
 calling he commenced some time in 1762, by laying 
 information against the Judges of the land for wearing 
 cambric ! He was particularly well acquainted with 
 almost all the ancient laws ; and made much profit by 
 dragging from their musty holes many an obsolete act, 
 which remained unrepealed because overlooked, and 
 because the necessity for enforcing them had long 
 
 -inci? ceased. 
 
 Hi*
 
 224 THE CLUBS OF LONDON*. 
 
 Notwithstanding Brecknock's multitudinous 
 avocations, he was rather out at elbows about 
 the year 1775 ; and Fitzgerald being in a 
 plight very little better, it was agreed on be- 
 tween them, as Timothy was a man cunning 
 in the law, to go to Ireland and to bring old 
 Mr. Fitzgerald to account for the irregulari- 
 ty of his remittances to his affectionate and 
 
 dutiful son. They considered, likewise, that as 
 
 \ 
 His boldness of manner and quick decision, joined to 
 
 the above-mentioned kind of knowledge, served greatly 
 to ingratiate him with his clients, and with others who 
 had business with him ; for those whom his demonstra- 
 tions did not convince, he took care to bully into ac- 
 quiescence. He was retained, for the Portuguese Charge 
 des Affaires, in some transaction with Lord Shelburne, 
 (Secretary of State,) about the year 1766, and tried the 
 effect of intimidation in the following manner : Being 
 unable to persuade or argue the Earl into the \\ished- 
 for measure, he gravely leaned on his hand, and looked 
 him stedfastly in the face, saying, " I shall never leave, 
 nor lose sight of you, until I bring your head to the block!"'' 
 The Secretary, of course, ordered him to be turned out 
 of his office ; but, considering that the man who could 
 have the audacity to make such a speech, had the talent 
 of being unefu.1, afterwards employed him in some secret 
 services.
 
 FIGHTING FITZGJiHALi). 
 
 the characters of both were worn rather thread- 
 bare, it might be no bad speculation to try a 
 reviver on them upon a new stage. 
 
 This pair of worthies accordingly set out, 
 and on their arrival in Dublin commenced a 
 Chancery suit against Fitzgerald's father ; and 
 whilst it was carrying on, they took care not 
 to lose an atom of the reputation which they 
 had so industriously earned in England. At 
 length, in 1780, Fitzgerald obtained a decree 
 for arrears of the annuity, and went to take 
 possession of the whole of his father's estate 
 to satisfy the demand. In doing this, how- 
 ever, great violence was committed by himself 
 and his partizans, who had many conflicts with 
 the tenantry, which compelled the father in his 
 turn to sue for legal redress. 
 
 Fitzgerald, junr. was accordingly indicted for 
 a riot, found guilty, and sentenced to impri- 
 sonment for three years. His active mind, 
 however, would not bear enthralment ; for, 
 although every precaution was taken, he for- 
 cibly effected his escape from the gaol, and 
 
 VOL. i. o.
 
 226 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 went home to Rockfield, where he erected a 
 battery of several pieces of ordnance: these 
 were placed on a mount overlooking the road. 
 This, with other corresponding warlike prepa- 
 rations, alarmed the Government, who at 
 length sent a regiment of horse, with a train 
 of artillery, to dislodge the offenders. On their 
 approach, Fitzgerald and his Guerillas took to 
 flight, and concealed themselves in the moun- 
 tains for some time. 
 
 In the mean time, sentence of outlawry having 
 been passed on him, and a reward of 300/. 
 offered for his apprehension, Fitzgerald could 
 not well brook the restraint under which he lay 
 in his concealment : accordingly, " with a chosen 
 band," and in the middle of the night, he 
 marched to Turlough, where his father resided, 
 (having been deprived of the seat of his ances- 
 tors,) and forcibly took him prisoner. The old 
 man being placed in a post-chaise, a strong 
 guard was placed around him ; and in this 
 manner was he led in triumph all through the 
 country, until their arrival in Dublin, where he 
 soon died of a broken heart. Fitzgerald him-
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 227 
 
 self was soon afterwards captured, and safely 
 lodged in the prison of Dublin, where he 
 remained for some time; but he had art 
 or interest enough, at length, to procure a 
 pardon from Earl Temple, then Lord Lieute- 
 nant. 
 
 He now resided for some time in and near 
 Dublin, where his ferocious manners kept all 
 respectable persons at a respectful distance from 
 him. Even in walking the streets, people were 
 afraid to come in contact with him, fearful of 
 giving offence to, or of incurring the resent- 
 ful notice of, so untameable an animal, either 
 by thought, word, or deed. Many, when they 
 saw him approach them, used actually to cross 
 to the opposite pavement, in order to avoid 
 him : but this too, whenever he observed it, 
 was construed into offence ; for he would follow 
 the renegadoes and demand satisfaction ! which, 
 of course, he generally received in the shape of 
 apology, for no denial of intentional affront 
 was of the least avail. Unfortunately, the city 
 of Dublin presented so many duelling exhibi- 
 tions at this period, as to give countenance to
 
 228 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 Fitzgerald's ireful disposition and quarrelsome 
 habits. 
 
 His country neighbours (that is, the gentle- 
 men in the vicinity of Dublin, where he rented 
 a house and grounds) avoided coming in con- 
 tact with him, as much as Irish hospitality would 
 permit. Many of them certainly invited him to 
 their houses ; but being obliged to be obsequi- 
 ous, and to be on the gui vive in removing im- 
 pressions of fancied offence, his company was 
 generally very irksome. One of them however, 
 a retired officer, named Boulton, would on no 
 account invite him to his mansion, or associate 
 with him in any way : even Fitzgerald's in- 
 vitations to his own house were declined on the 
 plea of indisposition, &c. Our hero was anxi- 
 ous to pick a quarrel ; but he was puzzled how 
 to begin : at length, his invention, always fer- 
 tile in mischief, suggested the idea of going 
 upon the Captain's grounds, to shoot without 
 leave. 
 
 Accordingly, he set out for Brackenstown, 
 attended by his servant ; entered the preserve, 
 and commenced killing the game in grand style,
 
 FIGHTING FITZGKRALD. 
 
 The steward soon came up to them and com- 
 menced a remonstrative oration ; but Fitzgerald 
 immediately put him to flight, by presenting 
 his gun at his head ; and the poor fellow es- 
 caped only by a miracle, for the ball whizzed 
 by his ear as he was in the act of darting 
 through the hedge. He of course ran for his 
 life, and Fitzgerald followed at a rapid pace, with 
 the other gun, which his servant had just loaded, 
 intending to have despatched him. The man, 
 however, at length found shelter in the man- 
 sion ; and Fitzgerald determined to wreak his 
 vengeance on the lord of the manor. Coming 
 up the lawn, he commenced a volley of abuse 
 on Captain Boulton, calling on him to come 
 out and give satisfaction for the affront offered 
 by his bailiff: but the Captain not choosing to 
 obey so uncourteous a summons, Fitzgerald 
 fired his piece in at the parlour bow-window ! 
 The owner of the mansion still not appearing, 
 this ruffianly conduct was continued as fast 
 as the servant could load and the master dis- 
 charge the guns, and until the whole of the 
 ammunition was expended ; by which time,
 
 230 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 there was not a whole pane of glass in the 
 house ! 
 
 From such audacious inroads on the peace 
 and comforts of civilized life, the neighbouring 
 gentry were at length relieved, by a report 
 which went abroad, that " Fitzgerald had in 
 a lit of passion killed his own gardener, and 
 buried the body somewhere in the grounds." 
 No real proof, certainly, ever came to light 
 which could warrant this allegation in itsfullesl 
 extent ; but true it is that the gardener disap- 
 peared after a quarrel with his master, and was 
 never afterwards heard of. The report was 
 farther borne out by the departure soon af- 
 terwards of Fitzgerald to his hereditary do- 
 main, afraid, no doubt, of the strong arm of the 
 law : and glad enough were the Dublin gentry 
 that he was gone ! 
 
 We have now to follow him to his strong- 
 hold, and throughout the remaining short stage 
 of his existence. Tim. Brecknock still stuck 
 close to his fortunes, and was in fact the evil 
 star which led him to his fate and Fitzgerald 
 did not require much prompting to gratify his
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 231 
 
 desire for revenge upon his enemies. A Mr. 
 Macdonnel, an attorney, and sub-sheriff of the 
 county, had, it seems, incurred his high dis- 
 pleasure by interesting himself in the disputes 
 between him and his father ; in fact, old Mr. 
 Fitzgerald had employed him as his solicitor in 
 the several disputes with his son. Mr. Mac- 
 donnel was now marked out for vengeance ; and 
 as he was passing Rockfield one night, between 
 nine and ten o'clock, Fitzgerald, with five or six 
 of his gang, waylaid him, fired upon him, 
 and wounded him severely. For this atro- 
 cious attempt at assassination he took his 
 trial at the assizes, and, strange to say, was 
 acquitted ! 
 
 Emboldened by so many escapes, his audacity 
 knew no bounds; for he conceived that the 
 civil authorities were afraid to lay hold of him, 
 or a jury to convict him. An advertisement 
 having appeared, by which Mr. Macdonnel and 
 a numerous body of gentlemen at Castlebar 
 offered a large reward for the discovery of the 
 assassins who had made the above attempt at 
 murder, Fitzgerald was exceeding wroth that,
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 after his acquittal, Macdonnel should presume 
 to make more stir in the matter, and therefore 
 resolved to make a finish of the work which he 
 had begun. In the mean time, poor Macdonnel, 
 whose two arms had been broken by musket- 
 balls on the former occasion, had taken refuge 
 at the house of a Mr. Martin ; for he was still 
 afraid of his lawless persecutor, more particu- 
 larly since his acquittal. A few days after the 
 wounded man had got into his hiding-place, and 
 as two of his friends, Messrs. Gallaghan and 
 Hypson, had just called to inquire after his 
 health, the house was surrounded by a large 
 party of armed men, who, breaking in, bound 
 Mr. Macdonnel and his two friends with cords, 
 and carried them off to Rockfield ! 
 
 After remaining in Fitzgerald's house for a 
 short time, during which they were treated with 
 every kind of insult and ignominy, their captor 
 applying to them, and especially to Macdonnel, 
 every vile epithet which he could think of, the 
 unfortunate victims were led out by a body of 
 armed men into the park. 
 Mr. Hypson, still bound, being placed against
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 233 
 
 a tree, half-a-dozen of the villains fired a vol- 
 ley and laid him dead on the spot ! Macdonnel 
 and Gallaghan were now ordered to walk a 
 little farther, to the bridge of Kilnecarra, a 
 distance of about sixty yards, when the mur- 
 derers prepared to complete their bloody work. 
 Poor Macdonnel pointed to his former wounds, 
 and earnestly implored his executioners to 
 spare his life ; but in vain ! He then held down 
 his head, when upwards of fifty slugs passed 
 through his hat and lodged in his head and 
 body : he instantly fell dead ! Mr. Gallag- 
 han also received several slugs ; but these not 
 being immediately fatal, he was, for some un- 
 known reason, carried back to Fitzgerald's 
 house. 
 
 The murderous party had not returned 
 above a few minutes, when Rockfield house 
 was surrounded, in its turn, by the whole of 
 the military, foot and horse, who were quar- 
 tered at Castlebar ; and these were accompanied 
 by the Volunteers of the district, and by im- 
 mense crowds of people of all ranks. An en- 
 trance, after some parley, having been forcibly
 
 234 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 effected, the soldiers entered the house and de- 
 livered Mr. Gallaghan at the very instant that 
 the desperadoes were going to give him the 
 coup de grace ; for, as they expected no mercy, 
 they were determined to give none. Several 
 of them were now seized, among whom was 
 Fitzgerald himself, who, after a long and strict 
 search, was discovered locked up in a large 
 chest and covered over with a couple of blan- 
 kets ! This redoubted hero, with as many of 
 his accomplices as were caught that night, were 
 immediately conducted to the gaol of Castlebar. 
 
 The succeeding events of this night partook 
 of the same romance and horror which had 
 characterized Fitzgerald's career all along : on 
 this occasion, however, he was a passive per- 
 former. 
 
 No sooner were the desperadoes, to the num- 
 ber of twenty- six, safely lodged in prison, than 
 popular resentment rose against them to a pitch 
 of madness, unparalleled in almost any other 
 country. This was excited by Fitzgerald's long 
 course of impunity ; for the higher and middle 
 ranks, the former especially, saw that if he were
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 285 
 
 once more at large, there would be no bounds 
 to his ferocity. Like the inhabitants of an 
 Indian village, who, when they discover that 
 the sanguinary tiger who had for some time in- 
 fested the vicinity, to the great detriment of 
 their cattle and population, has at length taken 
 up his abode in a jungle, they rushed upon 
 him, pell-mell, to deprive him of the power of 
 doing farther mischief. 
 
 In the middle of the night they broke open 
 the door of the gaol, knocked down the new 
 sub-sheriff, the gaoler, and the centinels ; and 
 whilst the main body of the assailants remained 
 below, six gentlemen entered Fitzgerald's apart- 
 ment, and fired upon him as they would on a 
 mad dog. Of five shots, one took effect in his 
 thigh. They then attacked him with swords, 
 and, having disabled his right arm, got him 
 down upon the floor, where one of them batter- 
 ed his head, in so shocking a manner, with a 
 brass candlestick, as to leave him for dead. At 
 this critical moment, a fresh body of troops 
 arrived, and prevented the assailants from tak- 
 ing the farther execution of the law into their
 
 236 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 own hand (by putting the rest of the prisoners 
 to death) ; but they only quitted the principal 
 victim of their rage, when they had assured 
 themselves they had completely effected their 
 bloody purpose with regard to him. 
 
 To their great surprise, however, Fitzgerald 
 recovered ; and a Special Commission being is- 
 sued for the trial of the offenders, he and others 
 swore positively to their identity. But, not- 
 withstanding the clearness of proof, and the 
 Attorney-General's laudable endeavour to bring 
 to punishment those turbulent spirits who had 
 dared to assault a prisoner whilst under the 
 protection of the laws, the jury returned a 
 verdict of not guilty. They had set their 
 minds against the administration of equal jus- 
 tice in this case ; and the attempt to prove 
 an alibi enabled them to save their friends 
 the universal wish being, to get rid of Fitzge- 
 rald. 
 
 Next day, Fitzgerald himself was put to 
 the bar for procuring Timothy Brecknock and 
 others to murder Messrs. Macdonnel and Hyp- 
 son. He of course pleaded not guilty; but
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 
 
 the evidence of two of his accomplices, on the 
 part of the Crown, was decisive against him. 
 He made a most able defence, in a speech of 
 nearly three hours, in which he displayed a 
 strength of imagination which astonished the 
 whole court ; and the degree of composure 
 which he assumed throughout the whole trial, 
 was no less surprising to every one who beheld 
 him. When the verdict of guilty, however, 
 was pronounced, the sudden gloom which over- 
 spread his countenance evidently showed that 
 he had calculated on an acquittal. 
 
 The next day was occupied in the trial of his 
 accomplices, five of whom were found guilty. 
 One of Fitzgerald's counsel now gave notice of 
 a motion in arrest of judgment ; and the court 
 allowed him two days to consider of it, though 
 no defect was found in the indictment; but 
 when that time arrived, and when Timothy 
 Brecknock had been found guilty of aiding and 
 abetting the murderers, the motion was aban- 
 doned by the advice of the Chief Baron, who 
 intreated that it might not be made without 
 solid and sufficient grounds, as Fitzgerald must
 
 238 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 necessarily be present ; and his feelings, which 
 had hitherto been calm and composed, might 
 possibly be deranged. The chief culprit was now 
 brought into court ; and after a most affecting 
 exhortation, the judge passed sentence of death 
 on him and Brecknock ; at the same time giving 
 orders that execution should take place in a 
 few hours ! This was dreadful : and Fitz- 
 gerald deprecated such unusual despatch in 
 the operations of the law, in the following 
 words : 
 
 " My Lords, I humbly hope for the humane 
 indulgence of this court to my present most 
 unhappy situation. I do not mean, my Lords, 
 to take up your time ; but I trust that what I 
 shall say will be attended with effect. 
 
 " The very short period of time that has 
 elapsed since my conviction, has been taken 
 up in adjusting my temporal affairs ; and in 
 truth, my Lords, even these are not perfectly 
 settled : but I now wish to make some prepara- 
 tion, some settlement of peace with Heaven, be- 
 fore I pass into the presence of an all-seeing
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 239 
 
 and justly offended God, which I am about 
 to do. 
 
 " My Lords, you may be led to imagine 
 that I plead for this indulgence of time, in 
 hopeful expectation of obtaining His Majesty's 
 pardon ; but, my Lords, I do most solemnly de- 
 clare that I have no such inducement ; for if His 
 Majesty were to offer me his pardon nay, his 
 crown along with it, I would not accept of 
 either the one or the other. Under the weight 
 of such a verdict against me, it is impos- 
 sible I could ever look one of the commu- 
 nity in the face, or again hold up my head in 
 society. 
 
 " Let it not be understood, my Lords, that, 
 by this declaration, I insinuate or infer the 
 smallest degree of censure on the verdict of the 
 jury. No, my Lords ; I know them all to be 
 gentlemen of the most fair and irreproachable 
 characters : men not to be biassed, and who 
 could not avoid bringing me in guilty, even if I 
 were their own brother, from the body of evi- 
 dence that has appeared against me ; which evi- 
 dence, if I had been before acquainted with it,
 
 240 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 I should have endeavoured to have had witnesses 
 to repel. But that, my Lords, is not now the 
 matter for consideration : the only thing I 
 plead for, is time. 
 
 " It has been said, my Lords, that I want 
 that time to commit an act of suicide; but 
 I have too many offences already on my 
 back, and too dreadful crimes to account for, 
 to desire such a miserable passport into eter- 
 nity." 
 
 In answer to this address, the judge, with 
 tears in his eyes, recapitulated the rigour of 
 the law, and urged, that, the unfortunate gen- 
 tleman whom he had murdered had been sent 
 into eternity without one minute's warning. 
 He concluded by saying, that after the order 
 for execution had been passed, it was not in the 
 power of the court to interfere. His request 
 must therefore rest with the humanity of the 
 sheriff. 
 
 Of the benefits of this humanity, however, 
 it was very unlikely that the culprit should 
 taste; for the high sheriff and many other 
 gentlemen saw no security for their own lives
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 241 
 
 whilst Fitzgerald continued to draw breath 
 Accordingly, about an hour after the court 
 had adjourned, Brecknock and another being 
 drawn, pinioned, in a cart, to the hill of Castle- 
 bar, Fitzgerald was brought out of t he gaol 
 He had not changed his dress, and he walked 
 to the place of execution, attended by clergy- 
 men, and surrounded by strong detachments of 
 horse and foot. He had previously entreated 
 the sheriff not to allow him to be manacled, 
 or bound with cords; and this was complied 
 with, though unwillingly. 
 
 The scaffolding erected before the new gaol, 
 which was then building, was fixed upon as a 
 gallows for Fitzgerald and his companions ; for, 
 the authorities were afraid of taking time in the 
 construction of any other. The rope was ac- 
 cordingly fastened round a fiat board, and the 
 ladder placed under it. As soon as Fitzgerald 
 arrived, he was surrounded by no less than four 
 clergymen, each of a different persuasion ; and 
 all, of course, anxious for the conversion of so 
 great a sinner. Though terribly hurried in his 
 devotions, for until sentence was passed he 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 never thought of such a thing, the poor fellow 
 contrived, after his arrival, to get through Dr. 
 Dodd's Thoughts in Prison, his Last Prayer, 
 &c., and answered some questions on spiritual 
 subjects as calmly as circumstances would per- 
 mit ;* but he became terribly agitated when 
 the executioner made preparations for pushing 
 him off the ladder. When he perceived this, he 
 earnestly entreated the sheriff to grant him but 
 Jive minutes longer to live ; which being granted, 
 he pulled the cap over his face, and resigned 
 himself to silent prayer. Being at length told 
 that the time was elapsing fast, he replied, 
 " Sure, Sir, it is not so long ! Stop ! stop ! I 
 have just collected myself for God's sake, let 
 me die in peace! pray grant me just one 
 min ." Before he had finished this last peti- 
 tion, the executioner threw him off the ladder ! 
 As if the last scene of this singular man's life 
 
 * Perhaps it was intended, that the priests, by their 
 number, should in some degree compensate to the 
 criminal, by means of their assiduities for the salva- 
 tion of his soul, for the rather indecent haste of the 
 civil authorities in the disposal of his body.
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 243 
 
 was destined to be as singular as any which had 
 preceded it, an accident now occurred which 
 might have harrowed up the feelings of his 
 most inveterate enemies. By the sudden jerk 
 on the sharp edges of the flat board, at the in- 
 stant of swinging off, the rope broke, and Fitz- 
 gerald fell on his shoulder, upon the ground, 
 from a great height. The multitude uttered a 
 cry of horror ; but the unfortunate criminal soon 
 recovered himself, and, standing erect, exclaim- 
 ed, " By G ! Mr. Sheriff, you ought to be 
 ashamed of yourself! this rope is not strong 
 enough to hang a dog, far less a Christian ; and 
 it is impossible but you must have known that. 
 I beg, Sir, that you will get a better one, and 
 that without delay. 1 ' 
 
 His ghostly advisers surrounded him whilst 
 a new rope was getting ready ; and the holy 
 eagerness of each to inculcate his own particular 
 doctrines, perhaps in some degree lessened the 
 pangs which he must have suffered during the 
 terrible suspense caused by so untoward an ac- 
 cident. When the new rope was placed around 
 his neck, he was requested to ascend the ladder 
 R 2
 
 244 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 higher than before ; but this he refused to do, al- 
 leging, " that by the next tumble he might break 
 his neck." Being again thrown off, the second 
 rope nearly met with the fate of the first ; for it 
 stretched so far as to let his feet touch the 
 ground, which they actually did for some time, 
 until the executioner drew him up with great 
 difficulty about a foot and a half, when he 
 was strangled and put out of his misery. 
 
 Having hung during the time prescribed by 
 law, his body was cut down and scars made 
 in it with a knife, according to the form of 
 the death-warrant. It was immediately after- 
 wards carried to the ruins of Turlough House, 
 and was waked in one of the stables. Next 
 day, he was buried in the church-yard adjoin- 
 ing, in his clothes and without a coffin, on what 
 is generally termed the wrong or unhallowed 
 side of the church. 
 
 His accomplices met death with considerable 
 spirit and decency. Brecknock, however, ra- 
 ther puzzled the parsons, by refusing to join 
 in any devotional exercise, except the Lord's 
 Prayer, which he repeated in Greek! This
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 245 
 
 poor man was nearly seventy years of age when 
 he died ; was quite bald, with grey locks ; 
 and insisted upon being hanged in a brown 
 
 wig! 
 
 * 
 
 Thus lived and thus perished Fighting Fitz- 
 gerald a man, the like of whom, take him 
 for all in all, it is hoped the world will never 
 look upon again. His quarrelsome disposi- 
 tion and habits were doubtless induced by the 
 duelling temperament of the age in which he 
 lived, by the wound before alluded to, and 
 by the unfortunate differences with his fa- 
 mily. The breach between himself and his 
 father, was certainly widened by the meddling- 
 interference of Macdonnel and others, in mat- 
 ters beyond the proper sphere of their profes- 
 sional advice ; and it is hardly to be wondered 
 at that a man of his irritable and haughty 
 temper should seek revenge. 
 
 No attempt is here made to palliate his con- 
 duct :^-on the contrary, he ought to have been 
 put out of the pale of society, on the commis- 
 sion of his first crime ; and indeed, he deserved 
 death long before he suffered it. In summing
 
 246 THE CLUBS OF LONDON'. 
 
 up the catalogue of his vices, however, we 
 ought not to shut our eyes upon his virtues: 
 of the latter, he certainly possessed that one 
 for which his countrymen have always been 
 so famous, generosity. He also deserves some 
 credit for strong fraternal affection ; a negative 
 virtue perhaps, but one that ought to have 
 some weight in the examination of the charac- 
 ter of a man reputed to have lived at enmity 
 with all the world.* He loved, and was be- 
 
 * The negatively good qualities here attributed to 
 the ruffian Fitzgerald, strongly remind the Editor of 
 a very useful individual who resided some years ago in 
 the vicinity cf Cork. This man was the perfect coun- 
 terpart of Mr. Harmony in Inchbald's comedy of 
 " Every one has his Fault.'' Whenever he heard any 
 person ill-spoken of, he would invariably commence an 
 enumeration of his good qualities ; and when any one 
 was blamed for a fault or error, he would say, " Oh ! 
 well now, we don't know how he may have been 
 urged by circumstances. God knows, we ought not to 
 blame him severely ; for, perhaps, if we were similiarly 
 situated, we should have done just the same that he 
 has done." In short, he was the very antidote to scan- 
 dal, and was therefore nicknamed " VALUABLE." 
 
 One day, the character of a notoriously bad man was 
 on the tapis ; and the person who chiefly reprobated his 
 conduct, wound up the catalogue of his faults by saying,
 
 FIGHTING FITZGERALD. 5247 
 
 loved by, his brother Lionel, whose kindness of 
 heart and uniformly good conduct were quite 
 the opposite of his own. Lionel never forsook 
 him : in his most depressed moments he af- 
 forded him the countenance of his friendship, 
 and he always gave him good counsel, warn- 
 ing him from the wayward course which he was 
 pursuing. Would that he had taken it ! his 
 offences would not now have to be record- 
 ed, nor the memory of his deeds consigned 
 to eternal infamy. 
 
 PEACE TO HIS MANES! 
 
 l< But 1 dare say now, after all, that our friend Valu- 
 able here, will find an excuse for the scoundrel. Come 
 now, Valuable, let us hear if any thing can be said in 
 his favour. Ought not the villain to be drawn, hanged, 
 and quartered ?" 
 
 " By J s, then/' replied Valuable, " yc're too 
 
 hard upon the poor devil ! Who knows ?'' 
 
 " Come, come ! that won't do," said one of the com- 
 pany. " If you wish to defend the rascal, mention one 
 good quality that he has." 
 
 " Oh ! by the powers ! then, my dear Mr. Barnard/' 
 responded Valuable, " sure it isn't yerself would go 
 to deny that the poor fellow whistles well, any how ?"
 
 248 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 XVI. 
 MR. SHERIDAN'S READY WIT. 
 
 ME. Moore is mistaken, in stating that She- 
 ridan was in the habit of manufacturing puns 
 and other witty sayings, before he went into 
 company; and that he generally remained 
 silent until a proper opportunity offered for let- 
 ting off a good thing. That he and other cele- 
 brated wits may have occasionally done so, is 
 not at all improbable ; but that such was Sheri- 
 dan's practice, no one who knew him intimately 
 can for a moment allow. Had the learned 
 biographer in question, given the least consi- 
 deration to his practical jokes upon those trades- 
 men and others, who were in the habit of dun- 
 ning him, he would perceive that Mr. Sheri-
 
 MIL SHERIDAN'S READY WIT. 249 
 
 dan's invention was never at a stand ; for, on 
 such occasions, instead of paying, he generally 
 contrived to obtain longer time, and to run 
 more deeply into their debt: those who came 
 to shear, went home shorn. But there are a 
 thousand proofs on record, that, like the light 
 produced by the fire-boxes now in vogue, She- 
 ridan's wit was instantaneous and vivid. A few 
 of these brilliant flashes, as they occur to the 
 writer's mind, shall here be displayed; the 
 reader bearing in mind that such only shall 
 be set down as are not mentioned by other 
 authors or which, having appeared, have not 
 been attributed to him by them. 
 
 Mr. Whitbread, one evening at Brookes's, 
 talked loudly and largely against the ministers, 
 for laying what was called the war-tax upon 
 malt : every one present, of course, concurred 
 with him in opinion ; but Sheridan could not 
 resist the gratification of a hit against the 
 brewer himself. He took out his pencil and 
 wrote upon the back of a letter the following 
 lines, which he handed to Mr. Whitbread across 
 the table:
 
 250 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " They Ve raised the price of table drink ; 
 What is the reason, do you think ? 
 The tax on malt 's the cause, I hear 
 But what has malt to do with beer ?" 
 
 One day, meeting two Royal Dukes 
 walking up St. JamesVstreet, the youngest thus 
 flippantly addressed him : " I say, Sherry, we 
 have just been discussing whether you are a 
 greater fool or rogue; what is your own opinion, 
 my boy ?" Mr. Sheridan having bowed, and 
 smiling at the compliment, took each of them by 
 the arm, and instantly replied, " Why, "faith, 1 
 believe I am between both."" 1 
 
 Being on a parliamentary committee, he one 
 day entered the room as all the members were 
 seated, and ready to commence business. Per- 
 ceiving no empty seat, he bowed ; and looking 
 round the table, with a droll expression of 
 countenance, said, " Will any gentleman move, 
 that I may take the chair ?" 
 
 Looking over a number of the Quarterly Re- 
 view, one day at Brookes's, soon after its first
 
 MR. SHERIDAN S READY WIT. 
 
 appearance, he said, in reply to a gentleman 
 who observed that the editor, Mr. Gifford, had 
 boasted of the power of conferring and distri- 
 buting literary reputation ; " Very likely ; and 
 in the present instance I think he has done it 
 so profusely as to have left none for himself? 
 
 Soon after the Irish members were admitted 
 into the British House of Commons, at the 
 Union, in 1801, one of them, in the midst of 
 his maiden harangue, and in the national 
 warmth of his heart, thus addressed the chair; 
 " And now, my dear Mr. Speaker," &c., which 
 created a loud laugh from all parts of the 
 house. As soon as their mirth had subsided, 
 Mr. Sheridan gave it another fillip, by observ- 
 ing, " That the honourable member was per- 
 fectly in order ; for, thanks to the ministers, 
 now-a-days, every thing is dear" 
 
 The Hon. Mr. S having finished a tra- 
 gedy, sent it to Sheridan with a note, request- 
 ing an early opinion, and offering it for per- 
 formance at Drury-lane. The manager looked
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 over the manuscript, but seeing nothing fit for 
 representation, laid it on the table before the 
 noble author, who called two days after, with- 
 out saying a word. " Well, now, my dear 
 Sheridan," said the dramatist, " what do you 
 think of it ? my friend Cumberland has pro- 
 mised me a prologue, and I dare say, for the 
 interest of the theatre, you will have no objec- 
 tion to supply me with the epilogue ? v " Trust 
 me, my dear Sir," replied Sheridan, drily, and 
 shaking his head, " it will never come to that, 
 depend on 't." 
 
 A friend having pointed out to Mr. Sheridan 
 that Lord Kenyon had fallen asleep at the first 
 representation of Pizarro, and that, too, in the 
 midst of Rolla's fine speech to the Peruvian 
 soldiers, the dramatist felt rather mortified ; 
 but instantly recovering his usual good-hu- 
 mour, he said, " Ah, poor man ! let him sleep, 
 he thinks he is on the bench? 
 
 A rich, but exceedingly penurious, Member 
 of the Lower House, having one day descanted*
 
 MR. SHERIDAN'S READY" WIT. 253 
 
 for half an hour at the Cocoa Tree, on the 
 excellent quality and cheapness of a waistcoat, 
 which, after much 'bating, he had just bought 
 at a tailor's shop in the Strand, and which he 
 was exhibiting in triumph to the gentlemen 
 present ; concluded by praising the high per- 
 fection of the Manchester manufactures, and 
 saying, " Can any thing be more reasonable ? 
 Can any one conceive how they could let me 
 have it so cheap ?" 
 
 " Very easily," replied Sheridan, raising his 
 head from a newspaper, and heartily tired of 
 being bored by such a subject ; " they took 
 you for one of the trade, and sold it you 
 wholesale? 
 
 Whilst Sheridan, one sharp frosty day, 
 sitting in the Thatched House Tavern, writing 
 a letter, the Prince of Wales came in and 
 ordered a rump-steak ; but, observing that the 
 weather was excessively cold, desired the waiter, 
 first to bring him a bumper of brandy and 
 water. Having emptied the glass in a twink- 
 ling, he called for a second and a third ; which,.
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 also, having swallowed, he said, puffing out his 
 cheeks and shrugging his shoulders, " Now, 
 I am warm and comfortable ; bring me my 
 steak." The order was instantly obeyed ; but 
 before His Royal Highness had eaten the first 
 mouthful, Sheridan presented him with the fol- 
 lowing lines, which greatly increased his good- 
 humour. 
 
 The Prince came in, and said 'twas cold, 
 Then put to his head the rummer ; 
 
 Till swallow after swallow came, 
 When he pronounced it summer. 
 
 The Prince of Wales, one day, at Brookes's, 
 expatiating on that beautiful but far-fetched 
 idea of Dr. Darwin's, that the reason of the 
 bosom of a beautiful woman being the object 
 of such exquisite delight for man to look upon, 
 arises from the Jirst pleasurable sensations of 
 warmth, sustenance, and repose, which he de- 
 rives therefrom in his infancy ; Sheridan re- 
 plied, " Truly hath it been said, that there is 
 only one step from the sublime to the ridicu- 
 lous. All children who are brought up by
 
 MR. SHERIDAN'S READY WIT. 255 
 
 hand must derive their pleasurable sensations 
 from a very different source ; yet I believe, no 
 one ever heard of any such, when arrived at man- 
 hood, evincing any very rapturous or amatory 
 emotions at the sight of a wooden spoon f This 
 very clever exposure of an ingenious absurdity, 
 was received by his Royal Highness, Mr. Fox, 
 and every other gentleman present, with great 
 eclat; it was a fine elucidation of the folly of tak- 
 ing for granted every opinion which may be 
 broached under the sanction of a great name.* 
 
 Mr. Sheridan one day meeting the cele- 
 brated Beau Brummel, at Charing Cross, and 
 perceiving that he appeared desirous of avoid-, 
 ing him, thus accosted him : " Ah, Brummel, 
 my fine fellow, where have you been at this 
 time of day ?" 
 
 The prince of dandies was at first rather non- 
 plussed, but at length drawled out, " Sherry, 
 my dear boy, don't men-tion that you saw 
 
 * The ingenious author of Lacon has alluded to this 
 anecdote ; but, as he has not mentioned the commenta~ 
 tor$ name, it is here ascribed to its proper source.
 
 256 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 1 
 
 me in I this fil-thy part of the town : but 
 per-haps. I am rather se-vere, for his Grace 
 of Nor-thum-ber-land re-sides some-where about 
 this spot, if I don't mis-take. The fact is, my 
 dear boy, I have been in the d-a-mn'-d c-it-y ; 
 to the Bank : I wish they would remove it to 
 the West End, for re-al-ly it is quite a bore to 
 go to such a place ; more par-ti-cu-lar-ly as one 
 cannot be seen in one's own e-qui-page beyond 
 Somer-set House, and the Hackney-coaches are 
 not fit for a chimney-sweeper to ride in. Yes, 
 my dear Sherry, you may note the cir-cum- 
 stance down in your me-mor-and-um-book as a 
 very re-mark-able one, that on the twen-ti-eth 
 day of March, in the year of our Lord, eight- 
 een hund-red and three, you des-cried me, tra- 
 vell-ing from the East end of the town like a 
 common ci-ti-zen who has left his counting- 
 house for the day, in order to dine with his 
 up-start wife and daughters at their vul-gar 
 re-si-dence in Bruns-wick Square."* 
 
 * Since Brummel's speech, Russel, Tavistock, and Bed- 
 ford Squares, have been placed in the Terra Incognita. 
 In 1827 no Square East of Tottenham Court Road, is
 
 MR. SHKR1 DAN'S READY WIT. 257 
 
 When Brummel had concluded this affected 
 rhapsody, Sheridan said, " Nay, my good fel- 
 low ! travelling from the East ! after all, that 
 is surely impossible ; you must be joking.'' 
 
 "Why, my dear boy; why?" demanded 
 Brmnmel. 
 
 " Because the wise men came from the 
 East," replied Sheridan. 
 
 " So then S-a-r," exclaimed the fop, " you 
 think me a fool, do you ?" 
 
 " By no means," answered Mr. Sheridan, 
 turning away, " but I knoiv you to be one ; 
 and so, good morning !"* 
 
 Brummel, like the equestrian statue just 
 opposite to him, was struck dumb and mo- 
 tionless for a few seconds ; at length, he 
 vociferated, " I tell you what, my friend Sher- 
 
 acknowledged by a man of fashion to exist, except upon 
 hearsay, that in these unexplored places certain sugar- 
 bakers, attorneys, brokers, barristers, and retired under- 
 takers, and a centenarian judge or two, are domiciled. 
 Lord Eldon, the last man of note or rank exiled in 
 these parts has long since fled from Bedford-square 
 to Hamilton-place, and if he could have " made up 
 his mind," would have done it years before So says 
 Fashion ! 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 ry, I shall cut you for this im-per-ti-nence, de- 
 pend on't. I mean to-night, at the op-e-ra, to 
 send the P/ince to Co-ven-try for the next 
 twelve months, and you shall ac-com-pany 
 him." 
 
 Sheridan laughed heartily at the idea of 
 being put under Brummel's imperial iff//, and 
 to the great amusement of the fellow victim of 
 his excommunication, announced to him the 
 woful tidings the same evening ! 
 
 The conversation at Brookes's, one day, turn- 
 ing on Lord Henry Petty's projected tax upon 
 iron, one gentleman said, that as there was so 
 much opposition to it, it would be better to 
 raise the proposed sum upon coals. 
 
 " Hold ! my dear fellow,' 1 said Sheridan, "that 
 would be out of the frying-pan into the Jire, 
 with a vengeance !" 
 
 That Sheridan was from his very infancy 
 a person of great wit, the two following 
 anecdotes will prove beyond doubt. Being at 
 a boarding-school, where were also two bro-
 
 MR. SHERIDAN'S READY WIT. 259 
 
 tbers, the sons of a physician'; the conversation 
 in the play-ground, as is often the case with 
 boys, turned on the rank, riches, and professions 
 of their parents. The brothers were one day 
 bragging largely of their father ; saying " That 
 he was a gentleman, and that he professionally 
 attended several of the nobility." 
 
 " And so is my father a gentleman ; and as 
 good as your father, any day," replied little 
 Sheridan. 
 
 " Ah ! but," said the elder boy, " your fa- 
 ther is an actor, Dick, a player on the public 
 stage ; consequently, it is impossible that he 
 can be a gentleman." 
 
 " You may think so, v replied Sheridan, "but 
 I don't ; I know this, however : your father 
 kills people ; mine only amuses them." 
 
 A gentleman having a remarkably long vi- 
 sage, was one day riding by the school, at the 
 gate of which he overheard young Sheridan 
 say to another lad, " That gentleman's face is 
 longer than his life." Struck by the strange- 
 ness of this rude observation, the man turned 
 s 2
 
 260 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 his horse's head, and requested an explana- 
 tion. 
 
 " Sir," said the boy, " I meant no offence in 
 the world ; but I have read in the Bible at 
 school, that a man's life is but a span, and I am 
 sure your face is double that length." 
 
 The gentleman threw the lad sixpence and 
 rode off, laughing heartily. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan met with a few hard rubs him- 
 self, however ; one or two of which may not be 
 unentertaining to mention. 
 
 He was endeavouring to compliment (vulgo, 
 to gammon) a city tailor out of a new suit of 
 clothes, and promising him half a dozen similar 
 orders every year. " You are an excellent cut., 
 my friend," said Sheridan, " and you beat our 
 snips of the West End, hollow. Why don't 
 you push your thimble amongst us ? I '11 re- 
 commend you every where. Upon my honour, 
 your work gives you infinite credit." " Yes," 
 replied Twist, " I always take care that my 
 work gives long credit, but the wearers ready 
 money."
 
 MR. SHERIDAN'S HEADY WIT. 261 
 
 The following retort was exceedingly severe ; 
 indeed, so much so, that Mr. Sheridan never 
 forgot nor forgave its author, Home Tooke. 
 It is best to relate the anecdote in the latter 
 gentleman's own words : " Shortly after I had 
 published my two pairs of portraits, of two 
 fathers and two sons those of Earl Chatham 
 and Mr. Pitt, of Lord Holland and Mr. Fox 
 I met Sheridan, who said, with a saucy, satirical 
 air, ' So, Sir ! you are the reverend gentleman, 
 I am told, who sometimes amuses himself in 
 drawing portraits.' ' Yes, Sir,' I replied, ' I 
 am that gentleman ; and if you will do me the 
 favour of sitting to me for your's, I promise you 
 I will take it so faithfully, that even you your- 
 self shall shudder at it !' " 
 
 Mr. Sheridan was frequently in the habit of 
 telling comical stories and satirical anecdotes ; a 
 few of which may be worth mentioning. 
 
 Pugilism being the subject of conversation 
 one evening, two gentlemen, one from Liver- 
 pool and the other from Bristol, insisted that in 
 the county of Stafford the art of boxing was
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 more generally cultivated than any where else ; 
 and they adduced several instances of the bru- 
 tality and barbarism of the people employed in 
 the potteries, &c. Sheridan felt that his honour 
 was concerned, and that he was called on to 
 defend his own constituents, at least, from such 
 injurious aspersions; accordingly, he drew out 
 his forces, and like other argumentators, and 
 generals of the new school, he overcame his op- 
 ponents by recrimination, or, rather, by carry- 
 ing the war within the enemy's own territories 
 
 " I am not exactly aware, gentlemen, of the 
 manner of fighting in the county of Stafford, 
 having generally had some other business on 
 hand when I travelled in that part of the 
 world; but I will relate to you the observa- 
 tions which I made when I resided in the 
 West. The men of Somerset and Gloucester, 
 particularly the colliers and other gentry of 
 Bristol and the Forest of Dean, not only 
 quarrel about the fair sex, as civilized nations 
 generally do, but they actually love the game 
 itself for its own sake. They knock up a fight 
 for exercise, or for ' a bit of vim,' just as it
 
 MR. SHERIDAN'S READY WIT. 263 
 
 may happen ; and I remember a farmer whose 
 . five sons were famous for fighting every market- 
 day, on their return from Bristol or Gloucester, 
 by way of adjusting their several accounts. 
 When their reverend and respected Sire was on 
 his death-bed, he left his farm, which was a 
 very good one, to his youngest son, saying, 
 " Ben can lather all vour o' his brothers, an 1 
 /o let he ha V 1 
 
 " What a brute !" exclaimed the Liverpool 
 gentleman. 
 
 " Pardon me," continued Sheridan, " they 
 are much worse as you travel northward. I re- 
 member seeing a Mck-bullock-and-bite contest 
 between two Lancashire blades, in which one 
 actually bit off the other's nose. When some of 
 the bystanders condoled with the maimed com- 
 batant on his misfortune, he exclaimed, * Never 
 
 mouind, I ha* boitend off a piece of his ;' 
 
 saying which, he spat the amputated portion out 
 of his mouth. 1 ' 
 
 An attorney one day meeting Mr. Sheridan 
 walking with another gentleman in Piccadilly,
 
 264 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 told him that he had just been apprenticing 
 his second daughter, a very pretty girl, to a 
 fashionable dress-maker in Bond-street ; at the 
 same time asking his opinion of this family 
 arrangement. k< Depend upon it, Sir, 11 said 
 Sheridan, " that she is in as fair a way of being 
 ruined, as a boy is to become a rogue, when 
 he is first put clerk to a lawyer ! v 
 
 This observation was accompanied by such a 
 penetrating look from Mr. Sheridan, that the 
 man of law shrunk from it, as if conscious that 
 he deserved the sting which it conveyed. 
 
 When he was gone, Sheridan, said, " How 
 do you think that fellow once served me ? 
 Whilst pretending to befriend me on a certain 
 occasion, and whilst declaring himself my friend 
 and very humble servant, I found that he was 
 urging one of my creditors to arrest me ; and 
 that, too, when he knew that such a thing would 
 have gone well nigh to ruin me. The scoun- 
 drel does not suppose that I am aware of the 
 fact ; but, I think, I have mixed him up a dose 
 of gall and vinegar which will give him the 
 mulligrubs for a month."
 
 
 MR. SHERIDAN'S EARLY POETRY. 2C5 
 
 XVII. 
 
 HIS EARLY POETRY. 
 
 MR. SHERIDAN produced many epigrams and 
 other lively poetical morceaux, particularly in 
 his youthful days, which, it is feared, have long- 
 since been lost, or consigned to oblivion among 
 the contents of the ephemerides, and other 
 similar " tombs of all the Capulets." The 
 following Anacreontic address to the God of 
 Wine, appeared in the West Country Maga- 
 zine, under the signature of Pindar Paul, Esq. 
 whilst the author resided at Bath. Would 
 that Mr. Sheridan had always kept such modera- 
 tion in view !
 
 266 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 BACCHUS AND VENUS. 
 
 Rosy God ! thy purple hoard 
 
 Fain would I with rapture press ; 
 Drain libations at thy board, 
 Quaffing joys, but not excess. 
 
 If excess, thy power is done, 
 Thy azure goblet crown'd in vain : 
 
 Riot, madness reason's gone ; 
 Then succeeds an age of pain. 
 
 Why, ivy-crowned King of Wine, 
 
 Should excess thy blessings shame ? 
 Why should Venus, all divine ! 
 Hold thy votaries to blame ? 
 
 Venus will not yield the palm, 
 Nor your share of pleasure scan ; 
 
 Chloe owns the wine as balm, 
 Invokes the God to aid the Man. 
 
 Come, then, laughter-loving youth, 
 Round the myrtle wreathe the vine ; 
 
 Charm'd with music, love, and truth, 
 Drink the pledge, 'tis LOVE AND
 
 MII SHERIDAN'S EARLY POETRY. 267 
 
 TH FOLLOWING NEAT EPIGRAM, 
 
 ON IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT, 
 
 Was written nearly about the same time. 
 
 Of old, to debtors that insolvent died, 
 Egypt the rights of sepulture denied ; 
 A different trade enlighten'd Christians drive, 
 And charitably bury them alive. 
 
 ON THE PROSPECT OF COACHES TO BE 
 LAID DOWN IN 1798. 
 
 Alas ! must Mrs. Jackdaw lose her coach, 
 And, levell'd with her betters, walk the street! 
 
 Besides, how can she bear the rude approach 
 Of sisters, aunts, and cousins, she may meet ! 
 
 I doubt not each expedient she will find, 
 Thomas can keep the blackguards oif behind; 
 But still, ah ! still her case we must deplore, 
 For who can keep the blackguards off before?
 
 268 THK CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 SHERIDAN'S DEFEAT AT 
 STAFFORD. 
 
 SHERIDAN'S failure at the Stafford election, in 
 1812, was the cause of his total ruin ; more par- 
 ticularly as he had previously lost all interest 
 in the theatre in Drury Lane. An ill-natured 
 report prevailed at the time, that the Prince of 
 Wales, considering his old friend and companion 
 to be plunged irretrievably in misfortune, turned 
 his back upon him, like the rest of the world, 
 and left him to his fate : nay, one of the scurri- 
 lous prints of the day, went so far as to assert 
 that his Royal Highness, in reply to a request 
 for assistance, thus addressed him : " Sherry, 
 my old boy, your day is gone by ; there are no 
 boroughs now to be had, and I cannot possibly
 
 MR. SHERIDAN'S DF.KEAT AT STAFFORD. 
 
 interfere. I always prophecied that you would 
 end your days in a gaol !" Whatever influence 
 these gross calumnies might have had with the 
 mob, they had no weight with, and were alto- 
 gether discredited by, those who had the least 
 knowledge of the parties. But that His Royal 
 Highne&s was incapable of such conduct, is 
 proved by the notorious fact, that, on this very 
 occasion, he presented his unfortunate friend 
 with four thousand pounds; giving him the 
 choice of putting that sum to his private uses, 
 or of enabling him to be returned for Wootton 
 Basset. 
 
 Although Mr. Sheridan had a great desire to 
 resume his seat in Parliament, he could not 
 well stomach the idea of exchanging the repre- 
 sentation of a populous and respectable town 
 like Stafford, for that of a rotten borough. 
 After some hesitation, therefore, he declined it ; 
 and, no doubt, was considerably influenced in 
 his decision, by the actual possession of so 
 much ready money, which would enable him to 
 carry on the war, until something else should 
 start up ; for whilst the existing ministry re-
 
 270 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 mained in power, and there appeared little 
 likelihood of a change, Mr. Sheridan, had no 
 prospect of coming in for a share of the loaves 
 and fishes ; and he consequently saw little utili- 
 ty in wearing away his lungs, and perhaps 
 losing his popularity, on a stage where he had 
 already enacted his part with so much eclat. 
 The disappointment, however, preyed heavily 
 on his spirits ; more particularly, as his fertile 
 and comprehensive mind was now without any ac- 
 tive employment. He did not fail, therefore, on 
 every suitable occasion, to bestow his hearty 
 blessing on the worthy electors of Stafford, and 
 that generally in the following terms : " A 
 pack of rotten leather-heads, and be d d to 
 them !" alluding to the staple manufacture of 
 the town in question, which is that of shoes. 
 
 But Mr. Sheridan's rejection was rendered 
 still more galling, by the lampoons and general 
 abuse with which the newspapers and other 
 prints most ungenerously assailed him at this 
 period. Among other things of the same kind, 
 he confessed that he felt considerable annoy- 
 ance from the following squibs.
 
 MB. SHERIDAN'S DEFEAT AT STAFFORD. 271 
 
 ON A CERTAIN GENTLEMAN'S DISCOM- 
 FITURE AT STAFFORD. 
 
 SHERRY to Stafford lately hied; 
 Stafford, the great St. Crispin's pride : 
 He smooth'd his face, he went unshod; 
 He swore, no shoes like their's, by G ! 
 He had the Regent's dread commands, 
 Shoes should be worn on feet and hands ! 
 The Court had deem'd the fashion meet, 
 That men should walk on hands and feet ! 
 " Give me your votes ; I '11 do such things, 
 I '11 make you great as little kings !" 
 
 Crispin, who erst did Britons shield 
 On Agincourt's most glorious field, 
 Look'd from a cloud in fierce disdain, 
 And sent him back to Court again. 
 
 IMPROMPTU. 
 
 Since Drury's corps disown my sway, 
 And Stafford's cobblers hoot away, 
 Betwixt St. Stephen's and the Bench 
 I must retire, or must retrench.'' 
 " Dear Sherry, by that ruby nose, 
 That like my darling bev 'rage glows/'
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON'. 
 
 The Regent cries, " Dismiss your fears, 
 Cheer up, my lad, and dry your tears ; 
 Do what you will, you can't be beat ! 
 In either case, you 'II have a seat." 
 
 A HINT TO MR. WHITBREAD'S ENTIRE 
 COMMITTEE. 
 
 By a Quondam Manager.* 
 
 " Since none with a pen will trust me but a goose, 
 And paper of all kinds I've little now to use ; 
 To the verses writ by me, you may swear if you will, 
 If inscrib'd on the back of a wine-merchant's bill : 
 But observe, should there be a receipt at the end on 't, 
 Try again ; they 're not Sherry's poetry, depend on 't. 
 
 * It is to be observed that the Committee of Manage- 
 ment of the newly built Theatre in Drury Lane, had 
 offered a premium of one hundred guineas for the best 
 Prologue to be spoken at the opening of the house. 
 The poets immediately set to work, among whom, it 
 was said, Mr. Sheridan contributed a very spirited 
 effusion ; but his, like those of all the others, was 
 declined by the management, on the score of ineffici- 
 ency : an application was made to Lord Byron, who 
 produced, at a short notice, a very able prologue ; but
 
 SHERIDAN'S DEFEAT AT STAFFORD. 273 
 
 The latter of these pasquinades, Mr. Sheri- 
 dan declared to the writer, at Brookes's, to be 
 the " unkindest cut of all ;" for that three- 
 fourths of the stories which were told of him 
 were utterly devoid of truth. " However," 
 continued he, "I suppose I must bear with 
 these things like a Philosopher : give a dog an 
 ill name, and hang him out of the way at once ! 
 Heigho ! fill, my dear friend, and let us drown 
 care in a bumper. The rascal now, who 
 wrote that, I dare say, fancies himself a poet : 
 why, the scribbler doesn't keep within proper 
 time or measure : he halts and hobbles like a 
 man with a wooden-leg in a meadow picking 
 cowslips. Still the lines are clever for their 
 point ; although I don^t see how they can apply 
 
 certainly not better written than several of those which 
 had been refused. It was this contest among the 
 Literati of the day, which gave the hint to the Smiths 
 for the production of that most clever work, " The Re- 
 jected Addresses." It is farther to be observed, that 
 the Committee had suggested the necessity of each au- 
 thor adopting some cypher or private mark, (instead of 
 his own name,) by which his piece might be recognized 
 in case of success. 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 to me. These unlettered assassins of the 
 press season their bubble-and-squeak messes 
 according to the taste of the swinish multitude ; 
 and when they have hashed up the victim of 
 their ruffianism, they throw in a little sauce 
 piquante, in order to tickle their palates, and 
 make the maw-wallop go down pleasantly. 
 Thus they please the pigs. But, presto ! the 
 
 pigs and butchers be d d ! here comes a 
 
 fresh bottle, my dear friend ; so let us change 
 the scene and subject." 
 
 In this manner would poor Sheridan, when 
 stretched on the rack of a newspaper paragraph, 
 alternately vituperate and philosophise, and 
 then fly, for the consolation of his wounded 
 spirit, to his never-failing source of comfort 
 the bottle. Sometimes, however, his feelings 
 were so agonized by neglect, insult, and the 
 dreariness of his future prospects, that he has 
 shed tears like a child, whilst unbosoming him- 
 self to the writer of this. They were tears of 
 bitterness and regret. But, at the period above 
 mentioned, he may be said to have been in a tole- 
 rable state of equanimity and comfort ; for, he
 
 SHEUIDAN'S DEFEAT AT STAFFORD. 275 
 
 had a considerable portion of the Prince's gift 
 still in banco, and he was never at a loss for 
 some clever ruse de guerre to escape the annoy- 
 ance of his old friends the duns. Indeed, his 
 whole life seems to have been one of expedients 
 and shifts. 
 
 It is now time to return to the more imme- 
 diate subjects of this article ; viz. the worthy 
 and independent electors of Stafford. Mr. She- 
 ridan was a man who scorned to confer favours 
 by halves ; therefore, whilst he advocated the 
 rights and liberties of these gentry in tbe Se- 
 nate, he was desirous of patronizing the trade 
 of their town, by dipping into the books of all 
 such as would give him credit. On all occa- 
 sions, however, when he neither required their 
 votes, a loan, or the renewal of a bill, he looked 
 upon his constituents with as thorough con- 
 tempt as any Member that ever sat for an 
 English borough. 
 
 On one occasion, he received a pretty hard 
 hit from one of the electors, as he was on a 
 canvassing visit at Stafford. He was met in the 
 T 2
 
 276 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 streets by one of his old voters, a simple but 
 substantial burgess, with whom he had formerly 
 had some dealings of a pecuniary nature. This 
 man accosted him as follows : " Well, Maistcr 
 Sheridan, I be main glad to see you. How be 
 ye, eh ?" 
 
 " Why, thank you, my friend, very well. I 
 hope you and your family are well," replied 
 the candidate. 
 
 " Ay, ay," answered the elector, " they are 
 pretty nobbling : but they tell me, Maister 
 Sheridan, as how you are trying to get a Palu- 
 mentary Reform. Do ye think ye shall get 
 it ?" 
 
 " Why, yes," said Sheridan, " I hope so." 
 
 " And so do I," replied his constituent, "for 
 then you '11 be able to pay off the old election 
 scores, shan't ye ?" 
 
 He never forgave the Stafford people for 
 throwing him out in 1812 ; and whenever they 
 happened to be made the subject of conversa- 
 tion, he seldom failed to retaliate by some whim- 
 sical story of his electioneering adventures,
 
 SHEUIDAN'S DEFEAT AT STAFFORD. 277 
 
 wherein he took special care not to conceal their 
 ignorance or avarice. He related the following 
 characteristic anecdote one evening at Brookes's 
 to several gentlemen who were bantering him 
 on the subject of his defeat. 
 
 When he was appointed Treasurer of the 
 Navy, under the Whig Administration, his con- 
 stituents deputed two of their enlightened body, 
 one of whom was an alderman, to wait upon 
 him for the purpose of refreshing his memory 
 respecting certain promises which he had made 
 of making all their fortunes, on the instant of 
 his getting into office ! Accordingly, these two 
 gentlemen, one of whom, no doubt, expected 
 to be made an emperor, and the other an arch- 
 bishop, waited upon Mr. Sheridan at his resi- 
 dence in Somerset House. 
 
 " Preliminary compliments having been dis- 
 posed of," said Sheridan, " I asked them what 
 was the more immediate purport of their visit ?" 
 * Why,' replied the electors, ' we are come to 
 congratulate you upon your getting into such 
 a good place, and into such a fine house.' ' I 
 am very much obliged to you, gentlemen, upon
 
 2?8 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 my word, and hope with your assistance to re- 
 tain the one and inhabit the other, for many 
 years to come.' ' I wish ye may,' replied the 
 alderman, ' with all my heart; but you know, 
 Mr. Sheridan, there are some old bills stand- 
 ing. 1 ' And there they must stand for the 
 present,' I replied, 'for I can do nothing for 
 you now in the way of cash, as I have not re- 
 ceived a farthing yet from my office.' * True, 
 true, Mr. Sheridan,' returned the alderman, 
 * we can hardly expect payment yet ; but you 
 surely won't forget your promise to provide 
 your friends with good places, now you have 
 got into a snug birth yourself.' ' Oh, certainly 
 not,' I replied ; ' as soon as the necessary 
 arrangements are completed, I mean to put 
 half a hundred of you into the excise, as many 
 more into the public offices as clerks, and 
 the rest, I suppose, may be comfortably pro- 
 vided for as officers, either in the army or navy. 
 I have only to regret that I can do nothing for 
 the ladies ; but I suppose they will be pretty 
 well pleased when they see their husbands and 
 sons taken care of.' ' Certainly, certainly,
 
 SHEIUDAN'S DEFEAT AT STAFFQKD. 279 
 
 your right honourable worship,' replied the 
 other man, who was a master shoemaker ; ' and 
 we hope you will show no favour, but treat 
 us all alike.' I, of course, assured them that 
 there should be no partiality manifested in the 
 distribution of my favours: and so, sending my 
 respects to the whole corporation, I bowed my 
 visitors to the drawing-room door, and with a 
 most patronizing smile, and a hearty shake of 
 the hand, wished them a pleasant journey 
 back to Stafford : and I assure you, gentle- 
 men, I was glad enough to have got off so 
 easily, for I expected a rumpus with the alder- 
 man, to whom, by the by, I happened to 
 owe a small score for wine and beer furnished 
 to my committee." 
 
 " I dare say you did, Sherry," said Sir Tho- 
 mas Stepney ; " I have little doubt but you 
 dived to the bottom of the alderman's cellar, 
 before he had time to look about him. How 
 many pipes did you drink among you ?" 
 
 " My dear Tom," returned Sheridan, ' f if 
 you interrupt me, you will lose the best part 
 of my story."
 
 280 THE CLU133 OF LONDON. 
 
 " Why, I thought you had packed them off 
 to Stafford ?" observed the Earl of Sefton. 
 
 " So thought I, my dear Lord," replied 
 Sheridan, " but in a few seconds one of them, 
 the shoemaker, without being observed by 
 his companion, returned into the room to get 
 a frank, for the purpose of enclosing a letter 
 to his wife, as he did not intend to leave 
 town for a few days. His friend, the alder- 
 man, had nearly got to the bottom of the 
 stairs before he missed him ; when, turning his 
 head, he instantly suspected foul play, and 
 rushing back up the stairs, he met his com- 
 panion at the door, just at the moment that 
 he was putting the frank into his pocket. This 
 was enough the enraged wine-merchant dashed 
 into my apartment, and with clenched fists, and 
 eyes sparkling with fury, exclaimed, ' D n 
 me, if I didn't always think you were a scamp, 
 Sheridan !' 
 
 " I was struck with astonishment, as you 
 may well imagine, and hastily inquired what 
 was amiss ? ' Amiss !' roared out my consti- 
 tuent ; ' didn't you say you would treat us all
 
 SHERIDAN'S DEFEAT AT STAFFORD. 281 
 
 alike ? What have you been giving to him 
 there ?' ' Giving to him P I answered with 
 surprize ; * why nothing but a frank for his 
 wife.' ' Well, then,' replied the alderman, ' if 
 that be really the case, give me one too, and 
 let it be just like his.' This demand I imme- 
 diately complied with, and he took his leave 
 perfectly satisfied."* 
 
 This anecdote greatly amused the party to 
 whom it was related ; and Mr. Sheridan was 
 several times afterwards requested to repeat it 
 to those gentlemen who had not heard it on the 
 first narration ; and this he did with inimita- 
 ble humour. 
 
 * As a set-off' to the reputation of not fulfilling his 
 promises to his constituents, which Mr. Sheridan gave 
 to himself in the above anecdote, it ought to be men- 
 tioned to his honour, that on one occasion, he actually 
 did keep his word with the natives of Stafford. Num- 
 bers of those who voted for him, or their friends and 
 relatives, were appointed to various offices in Drury-lane 
 Theatre and the Opera House. In a short time, how- 
 ever, he found opportunities of obliging new friends; 
 for, alas ! more than four-fifths of his first corps of pro* 
 tcgces were compelled to relinquish their situations, from 
 receiving no pay !
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 PITT, R E, AND DUNDAS. 
 
 OF this celebrated trio, several curious anec- 
 dotes were, on one occasion, related at Brookes's. 
 Mr. Sheridan commenced the series, by the 
 following laughable account of 
 
 ME. PITT'S MIDNIGHT REHEARSALS. 
 
 IT must be premised, that, during the whole 
 of Mr. Pitt's political career, he was a complete 
 slave to business; indeed, so much was his 
 mind occupied with affairs of state, that, ge- 
 nerally speaking, he went to bed at night only 
 to dream of the labours of the day. He took 
 
 little recreation ; and when prevailed upon to 
 
 * 
 go to a fashionable party, he seldom stayed
 
 PITT, R E, AND DUNDAS. 283 
 
 long. Even whilst he did remain, his mind 
 was so liable to revert to the business of the 
 morning, that, though highly respected for his 
 private worth by all who knew him, his com- 
 pany was not considered to be entirely in- 
 dispensable, particularly by the ladies. Mr. 
 Fox, on the contrary, had a mind highly sus- 
 ceptible of the pleasures of society ; which by 
 no means detracted from his capability of per- 
 forming the arduous duties belonging to his 
 public character. But to return to Mr. Pitt. 
 
 It was his frequent custom, when he left the 
 House of Commons, to call at the residence of 
 Lord Melville, to spend an hour or two, before 
 retiring to Bachelor's Hall as the Duchess of 
 Gordon very aptly styled the minister's own 
 lonely habitation. 
 
 One evening, fatigued by a speech of more 
 than three hours in length, he arrived at his 
 friend's house in a state of profuse perspiration. 
 Lord Melville (then Mr. Dundas) instantly or- 
 dered clean linen to be provided, and insisted 
 on the Premier staying all night ; as the damp 
 air, in going home, might prove injurious to him
 
 284 THK CLUBS OF LON'DOX. 
 
 in such a condition. Mr. Pitt complied, and 
 soon afterwards retired to rest. 
 
 He had been in bed about an hour, when 
 a female servant, passing the door of his 
 chamber, heard a loud noise, as of one talking 
 with great rapidity and energy. She imme- 
 diately ran, in the most violent agitation and 
 alarm, into the butler's pantry, where that do- 
 mestic and Mr. Pitt's valet were sitting com- 
 fortably over a glass of arrack punch. 
 
 " For God Almighty's sake !" she roared out, 
 " Richard, run directly to your master ; for 
 he 's a dying !" 
 
 "Dying !"" exclaimed the valet, rising; "Good 
 God ! what makes you think so, Betty ?" 
 
 " Oh !" returned the terrified girl, " I heard 
 him saying his prayers, so loud and so fast, that 
 I am sure he must be dead before this time." 
 
 " Lord bless the girl !" said the man, sitting 
 down to finish his punch, *' how could you go 
 for to frighten one so ? He 's no more a dying 
 than you are, Betty : he 's only making a speech 
 for the HOUSE to-morrow ; and I dare say, that 
 as he is speechifying so loud, he is a blowin 1 up
 
 PITT, R |J, A.ND DUNDAS. 285 
 
 the old Fox and the Wigs, Ah, he's the boy 
 for giving it 'em, right and left, I can tell you, 
 Betty." 
 
 " Blowin' up the Fox and the Wigs, Master 
 Dick ! Why, what's that, for heaven's sake ?" 
 
 " Oh, Bet, my girl," answered Richard ; "it's 
 no use telling you : women understands nothin' 
 of pol'tics : do they, Master Butler ?" 
 
 " No, Dick," responded the butler, " that 
 they don't, an' it isn't fit they should ; for if 
 they knew what was what, they'd soon wear 
 the breeches, I know But, I say, Dick, push 
 about the grog, an' let us go an' hear what your 
 master isgoin' to say to old Charley to-morrow." 
 
 " No occasion for hurrying, man," replied 
 Richard, emptying his glass, and filling another 
 bumper : " bless your soul ! he hasn't got into 
 the thick of it yet, I '11 be bound. We 've 
 plenty o' time ; so sit down, and let us finish 
 the toddy : it '11 be two hours, at least, before 
 he 's done. Lord ! it '11 do your heart good to 
 hear him firin' away at the rascally hopposition, 
 just the self-same as he gives it 'em in the 
 House. Bless you, lie always Eposes his
 
 286 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 speech for the next day, before lie goes to sleep. 
 Come, Mistress Betty, drink that, my girl," 
 (handing her a glass,) "it'll warm you, and 
 take away your fright." 
 
 Betty drank the contents, and feeling herself 
 greatly revived thereby, and her curiosity no- 
 thing abated, ventured again to inquire what the 
 valet meant by bhititf up the Fox and *he Wigs. 
 
 " Why, you fool,"" answered Dick, " don't 
 you know that the Fox is that rascally Charley 
 Fox, as wishes to bring in Boneypart and the 
 French." 
 
 " What for, Master Richard ?" inquired 
 Betty. 
 
 " What for ?" echoed Dick. " Why to kill 
 King George, to be sure, and put the Prince 
 o 1 Wales on his throne ; ay, and to oust my 
 master, that he may get into his place himself !" 
 
 " What a wicked villain !" exclaimed Betty : 
 " but do tell me what is the Wigs r f 
 
 " Why, the Wigs is them as backs Charley, 
 and wishes to get all the pensions and snug 
 births to themselves," answered the valet.
 
 PITT, R E, AND DUNDAS. 287 
 
 " But why do you call them Wigs ?' in- 
 quired the persevering housemaid. 
 
 " 'Faith I can't tell that, Betty, 11 replied 
 Dick ; " but, perhaps, Mister Butler knows." 
 
 " It is impossible to say," responded the 
 butler, laughing, " unless that the Tories think 
 them a set o' stoopids, that wears block-heads on 
 their shoulders !" 
 
 " Well P exclaimed Dick, " if that isn't the 
 very thing I was a thinking of myself ; but do 
 you know why them as sits on master's side in 
 the House, are called Tories ?" 
 
 " Yes, 11 answered the confident butler : " To- 
 ries is Latin for them as have good places to give 
 away. But, come along, and let us see what 
 your master is about. 11 
 
 Away went this trio up-stairs, creeping softly 
 on tiptoe, until they arrived at the Premier's 
 chamber-door ; and there, sure enough, they 
 heard him declaiming in grand style. They, as 
 we have seen, ignorantly supposed that Mr. 
 Pitt was rehearsing his speech for the morrow ; 
 but the fact was, that, according to his general
 
 288 THE CLUBS OF LONDON, 
 
 custom, as noticed on similar occasions, by se- 
 veral of his relatives, he was repeating, during 
 his slumber, the ivhole of the arguments which he 
 had used in the House of Commons, during the 
 earlier part of the evening.* 
 
 * Similar to Mr. Pitt's assiduity in public business, 
 and abstraction from the pleasures of social life, was 
 that of George Grenville, Chancellor of the Exche- 
 quer. During the recess of Parliament, in the year 
 
 , he was invited into Hertfordshire, to spend some 
 
 time at the house of a nobleman ; who, amongst other 
 attentions, hearing that he was fond of music, gave a 
 grand concert ; for the performance of which, he had 
 collected the best singers and musicians in the metro- 
 polis. 
 
 In the midst of a very fine piece, however, Mr. 
 Grenville (whose head was filled with little else than 
 politics, and the more particular business of his own 
 office,) got into a whispering conversation with a Mem- 
 ber of Parliament, who sat near him, about some bill 
 which was to be brought forward early in the next 
 session. In the course of this colloquy, he frequently 
 used his pencil, to make calculations. 
 
 This apparent insult being felt by the noble host, as 
 evincing a great degree of inattention, he observed 
 upon it to the witty George Selwyn, who was present. 
 " Pho ! pho ! man," said Selwyn, " Grenville likes your 
 concert very well ; but, by G ! a pen and ink are 
 to him, meat, drink, washing, and lodging."
 
 PITT, R E, AND DUNDAS. 
 
 The risibility of Sheridan's auditors was 
 greatly excited by the above story; and Mr. 
 Fox prevented their mirth from flagging, by 
 tire relation of two diverting anecdotes, of 
 which the following are but faint sketches. 
 
 MINISTERIAL ASSURANCE. 
 
 DURING Mr. Pitt's sway in the Cabinet, 
 whenever any assertion was to be made by the 
 Ministers in the House, which required more 
 than ordinary gravity to ensure belief, George 
 R e was the person generally employed to 
 make it ; more particularly, if the subject 
 matter related to the " blessings of the Chris- 
 tian Religion, as by law established !" or such 
 like. 
 
 One night, it being necessary to put him 
 forward on this particular point of duty, he 
 arose, assumed a grave aspect, placed his hand 
 on his left breast, and prefaced what he in- 
 tended to say, with an appeal to his conscience ; 
 " calling to witness the Ruler of the Universe, 
 
 VOL. i. u
 
 290 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 and the Searcher of all hearts !" Mr. Pitt, 
 who was rather fresh, had his eye on him, 
 and in a fit of admiration at his unblushing au- 
 dacity, turned round to Wyndham, who sat be- 
 side him, saying, " Now listen ! George is going 
 to tell a d d lie !" When the orator had con- 
 cluded, Pitt cried out, " Hear ! hear !" and 
 leaning towards him, congratulated him on his 
 assurance ! 
 
 DUNDAS AND THE BARBER. 
 
 Before Henry Dundas, afterwards Lord 
 Melville, had obtained the patronage of Scot- 
 land, he was not very popular with the na- 
 tives of that country : indeed, the inhabitants 
 of the gude toon of Edinbro 1 , at one time, 
 sought his life, and would have sacrificed him 
 to their fury, for having been concerned in cer- 
 tain measures to which the general opinion was 
 opposed. 
 
 In this state of the public mind, he made a 
 visit to the Scottish capital, and being one day
 
 PITT, R K, AND DUNDAS. 291 
 
 recognized walking on the North Bridge, or 
 Mound, he was surrounded by an immense 
 mob, who hustled him in a very rude manner, 
 and made preparations for throwing him over 
 the parapet. Luckily, he happened to have 
 a considerable quantity of money in his pocket, 
 in the shape of notes and silver, which he 
 had the presence of mind to throw, alter- 
 nately, among them, so as to divert their 
 attention, whilst he made all possible way 
 for the mansion of the Lord Provost ; where, 
 after great difficulty, and having disposed 
 of his last shilling, he arrived and found re- 
 fuge and protection. 
 
 The mob increased, however, and surround- 
 ed the Chief Magistrate's house, crying vehe- 
 mently, " Put out Dundas ! put out Dundas !" 
 and behaved otherwise in a very riotous manner. 
 At length, the Provost, fearing they would pro- 
 ceed to extremities, came out and addressed 
 them on the duties of hospitality, and on the 
 ancient and uniform character of the Scots for 
 the exercise of that virtue ; and concluded by 
 saying, that " he himself would prefer falling 
 u 2
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 a victim to their fury, rather than eject any 
 person who had sought the asylum of his roof." 
 This was an appeal which no Scotchman could 
 withstand, more particularly as it came from a 
 man, whose amenity of character and mild 
 disposition had rendered him generally beloved. 
 Having given the Provost three cheers, they 
 quietly dispersed to their houses. 
 
 Whilst he remained in Edinburgh on this 
 occasion, Mr. Dundas took care not to show 
 himself again in the streets, but soon took his 
 departure for London. 
 
 Soon afterwards, being obliged to revisit his 
 native country, and knowing the storm had 
 blown over, he met with a very odd adventure, 
 but one which terrified him equally, if not more 
 so, than that on the North Bridge. It seems 
 that he had recently been accessory to some 
 other obnoxious measure; not, however, of such 
 general importance as the former one : it was 
 such as to keep alive the public feeling, though 
 not sufficient to blow it into actual flame. In 
 this state of things he arrived at an hotel in
 
 PITT, R E, AN1> DUNDAS. 293 
 
 Edinburgh, and next morning sent for a barber 
 to shave him. 
 
 The Tonsor, who happened to be a wag, on 
 entering the room, saluted Mr. Dundas and 
 welcomed him to Edinburgh. Then having 
 decorated him with an apron, he began to 
 lather his face ; during which operation, he 
 cast upon him sundry scowling and penetrat- 
 ing glances, the meaning of which the stranger 
 could not well comprehend. At length, flou- 
 rishing his razor, he said in a sharp and stern 
 voice, 
 
 " We are much obliged to you, Mr. Dundas, 
 for the part you lately took in London." 
 
 " What !" replied the Secretary, " you are 
 a politician, I find ? I sent for a barber" 
 
 " Oh yes," returned the knight of the pewter 
 basin, " I '11 shave you directly :" which he 
 did, until one-half of the beard was cleanly 
 mowed ; when coming to his throat, he drew 
 the back of the razor across it, saying, " Take 
 that, ye traitor !" and off he ran, down-stairs, 
 into the street.
 
 294 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 Whether Mr. Dundas had previously felt 
 any uneasiness at the barber's manner, we know 
 not ; but the latter expression the action be- 
 ing so well suited to the word, induced him in- 
 stantly to apply the apron to his throat, and to 
 make a loud guggling noise, which being heard 
 by some of the people of the house, they imme- 
 diately ran to his assistance. They soon dis- 
 covered by the pantomimic gestures of Mr. 
 Dundas what had occurred, and it was not long 
 before the room was full of members of the 
 Faculty, of all degrees : apothecaries, surgeons, 
 and physicians ! It was a considerable time be- 
 fore the patient could be prevailed on to remove 
 the apron and expose his throat ; but at length, 
 when he did so, with much caution it was 
 found to be in a perfectly whole state ; there 
 not being even a scar visible ! 
 
 Though Mr. Dundas had much reason to be 
 delighted at having escaped unhurt, he was not 
 a little mortified at the laugh which this adven- 
 ture occasioned ; and his chagrin was greatly 
 increased when he found that he had to pay
 
 PITT, E, AND DUNDAS. 295 
 
 for the attendance of the medical gentlemen : 
 which having done, and having shaved the 
 other side of his face himself, for he would 
 trust no more barbers, he decamped from 
 Edinburgh, and did not return for many 
 years.
 
 296 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 XX. 
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY AND 
 THEIR PASTORS. 
 
 THE conversation one evening turning on 
 the abject submission of the Irish to their Ca- 
 tholic priesthood, an Irish gentleman said, " that 
 though his countrymen were a weak people, 
 they were not so much led by the nose by their 
 spiritual pastors, as persons who did not knoio 
 them generally imagined. 
 
 " Thanks, however, 1 ' said he, " to the rapa- 
 city and insolence of the Protestant clergy, 
 with their army of tithe-proctors and other 
 harpies, the links of the iron chain of supersti- 
 tion are more closely ri vetted between Paddy 
 and his praist than they would be if oppression
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 297 
 
 ceased to stalk with such horrible strides 
 throughout the land ; yet, after all, it is only 
 in affairs of religion that the Irish Catholic sub- 
 mits to the dictation of the priesthood. On 
 these points he does nothing by halves. Of the 
 infallibility of his church he does not permit 
 himself to harbour the shadow of a doubt ; but 
 believes implicitly that she has the power to 
 grant him absolution for the most atrocious 
 crimes, or to consign him to eternal damnation 
 if the excommunicating ban be not taken oft' 
 by suitable submission and contrition. This 
 power he considers to be as certain as that the 
 snow falls in winter, or that the sun shines in 
 summer. 11 
 
 THE PENANCE. 
 
 " I will give you an instance," he continued, 
 " among many which I could mention, of the 
 great power of the Catholic clergy, from whose 
 sentence there is no appeal ; indeed the least 
 resistance would have involved the culprit in 
 misery without end, for he would have become 
 an outcast from society. In such a case, a 
 man's own father dare not speak to, or assist
 
 298 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 him, were he in the greatest emergency or 
 danger. 
 
 " You must know, in the first place, Gentle- 
 men, that the Protestants having taken all the 
 lands and livings, churches and cathedrals, from 
 the Catholics, the only certain means of subsist- 
 ence that the priests have, are what, in this 
 country, are called surplice fees ; that is, fees 
 for marriages, christenings and burials : now, 
 these are necessarily very high, and in many 
 cases oppressive, that for marriage being be- 
 tween three and four pounds sterling. 
 
 " One Saturday afternoon I was told, that 
 next morning, at a chapel two miles distant 
 from my house, there was to be rather a novel 
 mode of penance performed by a man named 
 Phelim M'Murrough, who had married one of 
 my farm servants, several days before. He was 
 an ostler and postboy at a small inn on the 
 road-side, where a ricketty chaise and a pair of 
 miserable horses were kept for the occasional 
 use of travellers. 
 
 " When he married Dolly Milligan, like 
 most Irishmen of his rank, he had not a ten-
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 299 
 
 penny to bless himself with ; but Dolly had 
 been a saving girl, and not only had provided a 
 few small things in the way of bedding and 
 other household matters, but likewise put into 
 Phelim's hand the prodigious sum of five 
 pounds, which she had scraped together during 
 her days of maidenhood and servitude. In fact, 
 this girl, take her for all in all, was considered 
 a. fortune by the young fellows in the neighbour- 
 hood. She had set her heart, however, on 
 Phelim, who was a smart curly-headed little 
 fellow ; and no doubt his rusty red jacket, lea- 
 ther breeches, which once were yellow, and had 
 been worn by some cavalier at the battle of the 
 Boyne, brown-black velvet cap, and top boots 
 to match, assisted greatly in the conquest of 
 her heart. 
 
 " A day or two before his marriage, Phelim, 
 who never before had so much money in his 
 possession, reflected deeply on the hardship of 
 parting with four-fifths of it to the priest, for 
 the mere performance of a ceremony ; which he 
 by no means considered an equivalent for part- 
 ing with such a treasure.
 
 300 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " * Dolly, my darling,' said he, turning over 
 the tenpennies (for the hoard was all in silver), 
 ' I 've just been thinking that if Father M'Do- 
 nough would only trust me, and let us be 
 married on tick this once, how I could go to 
 the fair next week and buy a pig or two ; the 
 craturs would have a litter shortly, and when 
 the little ones got big sure we 'd make ajbrtin 
 by them. I could promise dhe Father a green 
 ham and a sucking pig, and I dare say he 'd 
 consent. 1 " 
 
 " Dolly thought the plan exceedingly feasible ; 
 and away went Phelim to the priest to make 
 his proposition. The latter good-naturedly 
 consented to this arrangement, and Phelim and 
 Dolly were as happy as any couple that ever 
 were joined in the bonds of matrimony. 
 
 " On the fourth or fifth morning of the 
 honey-moon, Phelim, having the tenpennies in 
 a leathern bag, posted off to the fair, a few 
 miles off. Here he unfortunately met with 
 some of his boon companions, whom, in the 
 fulness of his heart, he treated all round. 
 They drank polyeen till all was blue; and in
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 301 
 
 the plenitude of present happiness he forgot 
 Dolly, the pigs, and the priest. 
 
 " He had unfortunately told his friends the 
 errand he was come upon, and triumphantly 
 exhibited the contents of his bag. This ex- 
 cited the cupidity of the landlord of the whiskey- 
 shop, who contrived to breed a quarrel between 
 his guests ; the termination of which was a 
 grand row, in which Phelim lost his bag of 
 tenpennies, but received a broken head in ex- 
 change. 
 
 " It is unnecessary to describe the grief of 
 poor Dolly, when she saw the pitiable plight 
 in which her husband returned to the cabin ; 
 but when she heard of the total loss of her 
 hard-earned treasure, her despair knew no 
 bounds. Her wretched state of mind, how- 
 ever, was, if possible, aggravated by the story 
 coming to the ears of M'Donough, who saw 
 no means of his fees being paid, but by the 
 instant sale of their little household effects. 
 
 " At this proposition, which was made to 
 Phelim, as he lay on the bed with his head 
 tied up, the poor fellow was struck with horror
 
 302 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 and dismay: he groaned for some time in 
 agony ; but at length, unwillingly, gave his 
 consent. This roused Dolly to a sense of the 
 danger which hung over them ; she foresaw the 
 dreariness of their future prospects, and she 
 entreated the priest not to turn them out of 
 house and home. 
 
 " The priest, who really was himself in great 
 need, absolutely refused to grant any lenity. 
 Dolly therefore, who was not so tractable as her 
 husband, at length put the question to rest, by 
 taking an * oath to the Holy Vargin, that not 
 a stick should be moved out of the house to 
 please e'er a praist in Christendom. 1 
 
 " ' Then, 1 said M'Donough, Pll give Phe- 
 lim such a pinance as was niver seen or heard 
 of in this world or the next. 1 Having said 
 this, he departed from the cottage, exceeding 
 wroth. 
 
 " PhelinVs wounds being nearly healed, he 
 was summoned before the holy father, who lec- 
 tured him severely on the crime of drunken- 
 ness ; but more particularly on the heinous one 
 of ingratitude and roguery to his priest, which
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 303 
 
 he designated as the sin against the Holy Ghost ! 
 In conclusion, he enjoined upon him the pe- 
 nance of fasting and praying in a greater de- 
 gree than usual, the chastisement of his body 
 by flagellation night and morning, and absti- 
 nence from the marriage bed, for six months ; 
 besides standing in the chapel during the per- 
 formance of mass, for three Sundays succes- 
 sively, having a saddle on his back and a bridle 
 in his mouth /'All this was to be strictly per- 
 formed under pain and penalty of excommu- 
 nication. 
 
 " The poor bride and bridegroom were in a 
 sad state of mind when this dreadful sentence 
 was pronounced. Dolly, however, who had but 
 a small portion of the penance to endure, thus 
 consoled her husband : * Niver mind, Phelim, 
 my dear ; take the pinance ; take it any how : 
 better that, than be turned out of house and 
 home, without a bit to ate, or a blankit to 
 cover us. Ye needn't lay the bating on very 
 heavy, Phelim, as nobody '11 be bye to see ye: 
 I can go to sarvice the while ; and sure the six 
 months won't last for ever ; and maybe, by
 
 304 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 that time, the master 11 give me a pig, if I ax 
 him and tell him our misfortin.' 
 
 " The instant I was informed of this trans- 
 action, I resolved to put a speedy end to the 
 maceration of poor Phelim's body. Accord- 
 ingly, next morning, I walked over to the cha- 
 pel, and there, sure enough, I witnessed the 
 disgraceful sight of a priest-ridden human 
 being standing ready saddled and bridled in 
 the midst of the congregation ! 
 
 " I held up my finger to M'Donough, who 
 was just going to begin his sermon, and he 
 came out. I remonstrated with him on the 
 barbarity the brutality of this transaction ; 
 threatening to report him to his Diocesan. He 
 made answer that he was compelled to it for 
 his own safety ; for if M'lVJ urrough got off, 
 subordination would be at an end, and all fu- 
 ture bridegrooms would play him the same 
 trick. 
 
 " I agreed to the justness of his argument, 
 and paid him his fee on the spot, on his agreeing 
 to unhorse the poor man, and promising to give 
 him absolution at the end of the service. He
 
 THE IRTRH PF.AS ANTBY, &C. 305 
 
 insisted, however, on the propriety of keeping 
 Phelim to his prayers and fasting, in order to serve 
 as a warning to others. ' Why, 1 said I, ' as to 
 the prayers, you may do as you please, for I 
 have nothing to do with his soul : my concern 
 is with his body, so we'll drop the fasting, if 
 you please; for, I dare say, the poor fellow 
 has had his belly full of that already.' 
 
 " This arrangement being agreed on, the 
 priest mounted the pulpit, and thus addressed 
 the culprit : 4 Aren't ye ashamed of your- 
 self, Phelim M'Murrough,' said he, ' to be 
 standing there like a horse in full armour ! 
 Ye Ve been guilty of a grate and wicked sin, 
 ye have, ye reprobate ! instade of buying the 
 pigs, to get drunk and lose all the money which 
 were the just dues of me, your lawful praist ; 
 ye know they were, Phelim. But I forgive ye, 
 as in duty bound to his honur, who has inter- 
 saded for you and paid the money, every cop- 
 per ; so, take off the saddle and bridle, and fall 
 down on your knees to his honur, who has 
 done ye so great a kindness. Let me see ye in 
 the Confessional after divine sarvice is over.' 
 
 VOL. i. x
 
 306 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " The priest enjoined certain prayers on the 
 penitent, who was glad enough to escape thus 
 easily. When he came out on the green he 
 expressed a multitude of thanks, and would 
 have gone on his knees to express his gratitude, 
 had I permitted him. I advised him to be 
 more careful in future; never again to drink 
 potyeen, and to mind what his priest had said 
 to him on that subject; also to come to the 
 Castle for Dolly, in the evening, when they 
 should both drive a couple of pigs home to 
 their cottage. 
 
 " The poor fellow's gratitude now knew no 
 bounds: he danced and capered about like a 
 
 madman, and said ' By J s, your honur's 
 
 the true jontleman, after all. Dolly and my- 
 silf will take an oath to the Virgin, this very 
 blessed night, niver to taste a drop of putyeen 
 at all at all, ban-in' at a christening or so; 
 and as for the new pinnance that I am going to 
 get from Father M'Donough, I won't mind it 
 the value of a porati peeling; for Dolly will 
 say the prayers with me and we'll niver forgit
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 307 
 
 to remimber yer honur in them, wishing ye long 
 life in this world and the next one after it.' " 
 
 The company were highly amused by this 
 story ; but one of them observing that the nar- 
 rator had failed to demonstrate the position 
 which he had laid down at the commencement, 
 and indeed that Phelim's blind submission ra- 
 ther tended to prove the reverse ; the gentle- 
 man thus continued : 
 
 " You are so far right, Sir ; but you are to 
 observe that Phelim's offence came strictly within 
 the cognizance of his priest. Had M'Donough 
 presumed to meddle with his amusements or 
 his occupation, or with any other matter not 
 strictly religious that is, in the way of repre- 
 hension Phelim would instantly have hoisted 
 the standard of rebellion. It is in the per- 
 formance of their clerical functions that the 
 Irish peasantry respect their priesthood : when 
 the surplice is laid aside, religious awe hangs 
 with it on the same peg. 
 
 " Thus, we daily see the priest enter into
 
 308 THE CLUBS OF .LONDON. 
 
 mixed society, where he is welcomed as a boon 
 companion with * Hail fellow, well met !' there, 
 he jokes with the jester, laughs and sings with 
 the merry, drinks with the thirsty, is jovial with 
 the jolly, and quaffs off his native beverage with 
 as much good-will as any toper among them 
 all. At the altar, in the confessional, in the 
 pulpit, and in the sick-chamber, he is every 
 inch a priest, and his very finger nails are held 
 sacred : every where else he is an Irishman : 
 he feels himself such, and as such is he treated. 
 Of this, and of the immoral and degraded state 
 of the people in general, I will give you an ex- 
 ample. 
 
 THE PENKNIFE. 
 
 " I was one day informed, some years ago, 
 that a regular shilelagh fight was to take place 
 in the province of Munster, between two large 
 parties, on the next Sunday, immediately after 
 mass. In these barbarous combats, which I 
 had frequently been successful in repressing, 
 and which generally arose from a quarrel be- 
 tween two individuals, bloodshed was not un-
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 309 
 
 common; indeed, I have sometimes known one 
 or two to be killed on each side. I was resolved 
 to prevent this one from taking place, as the 
 intended scene of action was not above eight 
 miles from my own door. 
 
 " Accordingly I rode to the spot ; but, on 
 entering the chapel, perceived the congrega- 
 tion to be apparently so devout in the per- 
 formance of their religious duties, and joining 
 with so much fervour in the prayers and re- 
 sponses, that I thought some one had played off 
 a hoax upon me. I waited until the conclu- 
 sion of the service, and was exceedingly well 
 pleased with the becoming demeanour which 
 reigned throughout the assembly. 
 
 " As I was going out, however, I observed 
 the men range themselves in two parties, to the 
 number of about one hundred on each side: 
 each assumed an attitude of defiance; and I 
 saw from this, and by the almost instantaneous 
 erection of two or three drinking booths, that 
 hostilities would soon commence, if not speedily 
 prevented. 
 
 " The priest> who had disrobed himself of his
 
 310 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 canonicals, soon joining his flock upon the 
 green-sward, and appearing to assume the func- 
 tions of Master of the Ceremonies, I thus ad- 
 dressed him, ' Father Croley,' said I, * there 
 shall be no fight to-day, I promise you : I have 
 come to prevent it.' 
 
 " * No fight !' exclaimed the holy father; ' yer 
 honur sure won't be so hard-hearted as to 
 prevint the boys* from having a bit of sport, 
 just by way of refrishment after the sarvice!' 
 
 " * Let them sport, by all means,' I replied ; 
 ' but I understood that there was to be a fight 
 with staves; and I can perceive by the pre- 
 parations now on foot, that there will be con- 
 siderable bloodshed, if you do not join your 
 influence with mine to prevent it.' 
 
 " ' Bless and save yer honur's heart and sowl 
 for iverlasting !' replied the priest; ' I'm 
 afraid yer honur '11 have a hard job of it to 
 
 * This is the common designation of males of all 
 ages in Ireland : hence the term White-boys, from 
 wearing shirts or smock frocks over their clothes, for 
 disguise in the rebellion, &c. Gossoon is the Irish 
 term for boy or young lad Garfon, Fr.
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 311 
 
 stop the boys ; and, as for me, they don't care a 
 copper for what I say about any thing that 
 isnt in their Credo or Paternosthur !' 
 
 " ' Very likely !' I returned ; ( but were you, 
 in private life, to practise those precepts which 
 your religion enjoins you to preach in the pul- 
 pit, your influence in repressing disorder among 
 these poor people would be all-sufficient ; but, 
 here do I find your Reverence countenancing 
 by your presence, and, I fear, encouraging by 
 your example, not only a breach of the peace, 
 but also the commission of an act of the most 
 savage barbarity nay, even of murder it- 
 self!' 
 
 " ' Yer honur's too hard upon me,' replied 
 Father Croley ; * I take the blessed Vargin to 
 witness, that I didn't mane to touch stick 
 or stone, and that I only intinded to stand by 
 and see fair play among the boys; for they 
 haven't had a riglar fight this many a-day, and 
 sure enough they're all aiger for it.' 
 
 " An old man with wrinkled brow, whose 
 few grey hairs hardly covered his temples ; and 
 who, though perfectly erect and athletic, ap-
 
 312 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 peared to be of the full age of seventy-five, 
 now stepped forward from among the throng 
 of women and children who were assembled 
 round the booths. In the chapel I had observed 
 this man's countenance ; and it appeared to 
 me, actually to beam forth the rays of devotion 
 and sanctity. 
 
 " Taking off his greasy cap and making 
 a rude obeisance, he thus addressed me : ' Yer 
 honur's in the right of it entirely ; and I '11 
 bare witness to that same. If it wasn't for 
 
 that d d thaif of a praist, sure the boys 
 
 would never fight at all at all : he 's always 
 a-breiden quarrels among us.' " 
 
 " Father Croley exclaimed in reply, ' Yer 
 honur ! don't believe a word that the ould va- 
 gabond says. Tim Reardon, ye stole my pen-' 
 knife, last week ; ye know ye did, ye reprobate 
 o' the world !' 
 
 " ' Me stale his pinknife !' roared out the old 
 man, < Oh ! the Heavenly Father ! look down 
 upon us this day! Me stale yer durty pin- 
 knife, ye lousy blackgaard ! Yer honur ! if 
 ye'll believe me, and I wouldn't tell a lie for all
 
 THE HUSH PEASANTRY, &C. 
 
 Ireland for my potati garden, that man is the 
 greatest rogue in the whole seven parishes.' 
 
 " ' Get along out o 1 that, ye rapparree !' ex- 
 claimed the priest, raising a hand- whip, and 
 coming up towards Tim in a threatening at- 
 titude. 
 
 " ' Oh ! by J s, my dear, if ye' re for that 
 
 fun, yell get yer bellyful in no time,"* re- 
 torted Tim, as he seized a shilelagh from one 
 of the bystanders, and put himself in a posture 
 of defence. 
 
 " ' Come, come, 1 said I, ' let us have no 
 quarrels. 1 
 
 " ' By the powers though, master, sure I'm 
 not to be put upon by such a spalpeen as that,' 
 returned the old man. ' Just look now at that 
 loaded whip the bully has in his hand ! Only 
 wait now, till ye're about half-way on yer 
 road home, and when he has drunk about a 
 gallon of punch, it 's then ye ""ll see how he '11 be 
 knocking us all about with that flail of a scourge 
 of his ! Oh ! the villain ! to go for to say that 
 I stole his pinknife sure I'd scorn to do that 
 same I 1
 
 314 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " *' Ye're a robber, Tim,' persevered Father 
 Croley ; and ye know well ye're that same." 1 
 
 " f I take the Holy G 1 to witness, yer 
 
 honur,' said Tim, turning to me, ' that I niver 
 stould any thing in all my born days, barrin'dhe 
 four pound of bacon that I lifted by accident, 
 and for which I got my reward in Cork gaol.' 
 
 " * Swear him, yer honur : swear him on the 
 Holy Gospels, 1 retorted Father Croley, taking 
 a Latin Testament out of his pocket, ' and then 
 ye '11 see if the ould raskill didn't steal my pin- 
 knife.' 
 
 " On hearing this proposition, and on seeing 
 the book, the countenance of the old man 
 fell, and it appeared to me that he was guilty : 
 but from this impression I was soon relieved ; 
 for having said, in reply to the priest's urgent 
 entreaties to administer the oath, that I should 
 do no such thing, for it was too trivial an 
 affair to make a matter of conscience of, Tim's 
 features became animated, and he exclaimed, 
 
 " Oh ! b d and 'ounds, master, give me the 
 
 oath ! swear me by all manner of manes : 
 I'll swear any thing give me dhe book P
 
 THE IKISH PEASANTBY, &C. 315 
 
 " ' Nonsense !' I replied, * don't let another 
 word be said about such a trifle? But, the 
 more averse I appeared to be to administer the 
 oath, the more clamorous was Tim for the 
 book ; expatiating warmly on his own honour, 
 and on the villainy of his accuser. 
 
 " At length, having expressed my desire that 
 he should fall back among his companions, I 
 said to the priest, ' Father Croley, I am sorry 
 you should have lost your penknife, which 
 must be a great inconvenience to you, particu- 
 larly as you live so remote from any town or 
 village ; but if you will do me the favour to 
 accept of mine, it is heartily at your service.* 
 
 " With this I pulled out my knife, which 
 was a very handsome one, and presented it to 
 the priest, who received the gift most thank- 
 fully. It was to this, indeed, that much of 
 my success in persuading the people to retire 
 peaceably to their homes, was owing ; for 
 the reverend Father immediately bawled out, 
 * Boys ! there 's to be no fight to-day, at all ! 
 His honur says it isn't daycint ; and so you 
 must all go home in a paiceable manner, like
 
 316 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 good Christians, and be glad ye have got no 
 bones broke.' 
 
 " Disappointment showing itself on the 
 countenances of several of the men on both 
 sides, I backed Father Croley's mandate, by 
 leaving three guineas to treat them all round 
 with a glass of whiskey a-piece, on condition 
 that the Father saw them all shake hands with 
 each other before they left the ground. This 
 arrangement of their differences having been 
 agreed to by all parties, I took my departure 
 amidst blessings and huzzas that made the 
 welkin ring! * 
 
 * In corroboration of the above account of the almost 
 causeless feuds which frequently agitate the peasantry 
 of Ireland, and of the apparent harmony with which, 
 notwithstanding, they perform their religious duties, 
 we here give an extract from the report of a trial 
 of some of these disturbers of the peace in the counties 
 of Tipperary and Limerick, before a special commission 
 at Clonmel, in the year 1811. 
 
 James Slattery examined. 
 
 Question by the Chief Baron. " What is the cause of 
 quarrel between these two parties, the Shanavests and 
 Caravats?" A. " I do not know !"
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 317 
 
 " When I had got on about a quarter of a 
 mile, and was proceeding slowly up an emi- 
 
 Q. " What is the true reason ?" A. " I cannot 
 tell!" 
 
 Q. " So then, according to your account, I am to 
 understand that each party attacks the other by way 
 of defence?" A- "By the powers! and that's just 
 it." 
 
 Question by a Juror. " Were the men who were 
 concerned in the affray of the month of August, the 
 same that were concerned at the races of Coolmoyne ?" 
 A, " Indeed you may say that : they were the very 
 same, sure enough." 
 
 Q. " Do you know a man of the name of Pauddeen 
 Car ?" A. " And sure I do. He is my own uncle." 
 
 Q. " Was not he the principal ringleader and com- 
 mander of the army of Shanavests ?" A. " Why, sure, 
 he is a poor ould man, and not able to take the 
 command." 
 
 Question by Lord Norbury. " Now, tell the truth ; 
 What was the first cause of quarrel?" A. " Why, 
 plase your Lordship, wasn't it that same foolish dispute 
 about the May-poles ?" 
 
 Question by the Chief Baron. " Which is the oldest 
 party?" A. " Theouldest party ! Why, sure, I'd say 
 they were exactly of the same age ; but that the Cara- 
 vats were going on two years before the Shanavests 
 stirred." 
 
 Q. " Why were they called Caravats?'' A. " Sure, 
 they were called that same, because one Hanly was
 
 318 THE CLUDS OF LONDON. 
 
 nence, talking with rny servant of the agreeable 
 termination of hostilities among these poor 
 
 hanged: and he was parsecuted (prosecuted), by the 
 Shanavests ; and Pauddeen Car said, " as how he would 
 not lave the place of execution, till he saw the Caravat 
 (cravat) round the fellow's neck; and so from that 
 time, they were called Caravats." 
 
 Question by Lord Norbury. " For what offence was 
 Hanly hanged." A. " Sure and it's yerself as ought 
 to know better nor me; 'twas yer Lordship hanged 
 him." 
 
 Q. " Answer me to the point, Sir ! On your oath, 
 Sir, what was his offence?" A. " The poor fellow was 
 hanged, God rest his sowl, for burning the house of 
 a man who had taken land over his neighbour's head." 
 
 Q. " Then, this Hanly was the leader of the Ca- 
 ravats ?" A. " Before he was hanged, his party was 
 called the Moyle Rangers." 
 
 Q. " And who was the leader of the Shanavests?" 
 A. " The Shanavests were called Pauddeen Car's 
 party." . 
 
 Q. " Why were they called Shanavests ?" A. " They 
 were called that same, because they wore Ould Waist- 
 coats !" 
 
 Nicholas Saxton, another witness, gave nearly the 
 same evidence as Slattery, respecting the origin and 
 history of the parties of Caravats and Shanavests ; he 
 likewise proved, that all those connected with these 
 illegal associations had no other object in taking up 
 arms, than to defend themselves against the attack* of 
 each other !
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 319 
 
 people, I heard a voice from behind, calling 
 loudly, ' Stop one moment, yer honur ! I 
 wants to spake one word to ye, in private, if 
 yer honur '11 grant me the permission.' 
 
 " We turned our horses' heads, and perceiv- 
 
 The Rev. John Ryan, Parish Priest of Feathard, 
 examined. 
 
 Q. " How long have you been parish priest of 
 Feathard ?" A. " Eight years last October." 
 
 Q. " Are you acquainted with all your parishioners ?" 
 A. " Yes." 
 
 Q. " Do you recollect the races of Coolmoyne, last 
 September?" A. "I do. I was at the races on th 
 day of the fight, and heard a shot fired in the direction 
 the Shanavests were." 
 
 On his cross-examination by the Solicitor-General, 
 he further deposed, that at the fair he saw some of the 
 Shanavests strike the Caravats. 
 
 Question by the Chief Baron. " Is it notorious in the 
 parish, who are Shanavests and who are Caravats?" 
 A. " It is." 
 
 Q. " From a gentleman of your appearance and 
 manners, I should wish to be informed what is the real 
 cause of this quarrel ?" A. " / never could Jind out the 
 real cause !" 
 
 Question by Lord Nbrbury. " Do the feuds of these 
 insurgents prevent their attending Divine Service ?" 
 A. " No, my Lord, God forbid ! Both Shanavests and 
 Caravats attend Divine Sarvice regularly and indis- 
 criminately.''
 
 320 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 ed the old man, before spoken of, running to- 
 wards us with all his might. I immediately 
 supposed that he had come to inform me of 
 the commencement of the fray, notwithstanding 
 my exertions to prevent it. We stood still un- 
 til he came up with us, which he soon did, but 
 much out of breath ; and, when he had a little 
 recovered, I eagerly asked him if the people 
 had renewed their quarrel ?" 
 
 " ' No, yer honur, by no manner of manes,' 
 answered the man ; ' they 're all as happy as 
 frindship and a dhrop of good whiskey can 
 make them !' 
 
 " ' I am glad to hear that,' said I; 'but why 
 did you not stay among them, to have some 
 likewise ?' 
 
 Q. " Do they ever behave disorderly during Divine 
 Service." A, " Never, my Lord ; they behave day cent, 
 like brother and sister during the sarvice ; but they 're 
 like cat and dog out of it." 
 
 Q. " You mean out of the chapel?" A. "Yes, my 
 Lord ; I mean that same." 
 
 Q. " Do you consider those feuds to be confined to 
 the lower orders ?" A. " I think they are ; I am not sure 
 whether any respectable parishioner has joined them."
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 821 
 
 " ' I humbly thank yer honur,' he replied, 
 ' I did that same : I drank long life to yer 
 honur in a naggin, before I came away.' 
 
 " ' What is your business then ?' I inquired. 
 
 " If yer honur '11 be plased to spake a quiet 
 word to me,' he answered, * I'll tell ye that 
 same, without more ado.' 
 
 " Wondering what could be his errand, I 
 told my servant to ride forward ; and he was 
 no sooner out of hearing than the old fellow 
 thus began : 
 
 " ' Begging yer honur's pardon, what a Judy 
 yer honur made of yerself ; for to go and give 
 your beautiful ornament to that desaiving ras- 
 kill, Father Croley !' 
 
 " ' Pooh ! pooh ! you silly man !' said I, ' is 
 that all you have to talk with me about ? I was 
 happy in having it in my power to prevent him 
 from feeling the loss of his own.' 
 
 " ' By the holy !' returned the old man, 
 * and dhat is dhe very thing dhat I blame ye 
 for : howsomever, I couldn't bear to see yer 
 honur so cru'lly desaived ; and so I \e come 
 after ye to give ye his T 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " l His what ?' I inquired. 
 
 " ' Why, the tyrant's piiiknife, to be sure : 
 I^ve got it safe in my breeches' pocket, and, by 
 the same token, there it is, yer honur. I 'd 
 sooner see the alouragh to the divil, than give 
 him any satisfaction about his tool !' Saying 
 this, he thrust his forefinger and thumb into 
 a thing like a pocket in his breeches, and put 
 the priest's knife into my hand ! 
 
 " Petrified with amazement at this singular 
 eclaircissement, I looked at him for some mo- 
 ments ; at length, the ludicrous mixture of 
 his character burst upon me ; and I could not 
 help laughing at his assurance in so stout- 
 ly denying the theft a few minutes before, 
 and his odd manner of acknowledging it now. 
 
 " The fact was, that this aged man's mind, 
 though naturally imbued with a proper sense 
 of justice, had become so corrupted by the 
 universal oppression which reigned throughout 
 the country, that all sense of right and wrong 
 had become blunted. It had been roused to 
 action upon the present occasion, by a slight 
 impulse of gratitude ; by private pique towards
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 323 
 
 his priest ; and by the desire of restoring to 
 me some equivalent for what I had given away. 
 
 " I remonstrated with him on the iniquity of 
 his conduct towards the reverend Father, say- 
 ing, ' Now, Tim, how could you persist in tell- 
 ing such an untruth ? Suppose I had given 
 you the book. 1 
 
 " ' Oh master, then,' replied Tim, * I won't 
 suppose no such thing : don't we all know how 
 timorous ye are to give the oath ?"* 
 
 " ' But, suppose I had at last, 1 continued I, 
 1 what a pretty situation you would have been 
 in ! what could you have done ? You surely 
 would not have forsworn yourself?' 
 
 " ' By the hokey, then, master dear,' an- 
 swered Tim, ' I'd have turned it all off with a 
 laugh at the praist, and gived him his durty bit 
 of iron back again. For sure, why did I med- 
 dle with the thing at all at all ? wasn't it at 
 Neddy Blake's that I picked it up one day, 
 when the Father was lying on the bench as 
 drunk as a pig, and couldn't tell his knife from 
 a scythe ? and wasn't my only raison for taking 
 it, to prove that villain Jack Morgan to be no- 
 Y 2
 
 324 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 thing but a pumping informer, for he was the 
 only one in the place, that wasn't blind drunk, 
 that could ha' seen me.' 
 
 " * Well, Tim,' said I, ' you will excuse me 
 from taking the priest's knife, which I hope 
 you will find means to restore to him as soon as 
 possible.' 
 
 " ' And won't ye take it, yersilf, master ?' 
 returned Tim. 
 
 " * Certainly not, Tim,' replied I: ' you must 
 return it to the owner, without delay.' 
 
 " ' Oh thunder and 'ounds, master !' exclaimed 
 the old man ; c hasn't he one from yersilf, 
 worth a bushel of such rubbitch as dhis? With 
 yer honur's lave, I 'd like to keep it myself, 
 any how, till I send Jack Morgan to hell with- 
 out his ears the spalpeen informer that he is P 
 
 " Seeing that poor Tim was too old a sinner 
 to admit of the least hope of reformation, I de- 
 sired him to spare Morgan's ears; gave him half 
 a crown for his honesty, and rode on. 
 
 " As I proceeded, I could not help exclaiming, 
 'Alas ! unhappy Ireland, how art thou sunk in 
 the scale of nations ! The incubus of wretched-
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 825 
 
 ness that monster begotten by tyranny upon 
 superstition, which sits so heavily upon thy 
 lovely bosom, is the cause of too many instances 
 of depravity similar to that which I have now 
 witnessed. Thy children have lost the spirit, 
 the courage, and the honour of their fore- 
 fathers, and, like the Oriental slave, they have 
 taken refuge from the hand of oppression in 
 the intricate mazes of cunning, and in the dis- 
 mal caverns of knavery and violence. But will 
 this degradation last for ever ? Surely not. 
 The heroic ardour of the ancient Gael will re- 
 animate the drooping spirits of their sons, to 
 deeds of greatness ! then, sweet Erin ! clothed 
 in thy emerald verdure, thou wilt reign as thou 
 wert wont, the happy and the smiling Queen 
 of the Western Seas P "
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON, 
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY AND 
 THEIR PASTORS. 
 
 (CONTINUED.) 
 
 THE foregoing conversation being renewed 
 some time after, the same gentleman, in obedi- 
 ence to the wish of several members, who ex- 
 pressed an earnest desire to know more of the 
 spirit and character of his countrymen, related 
 several other curious anecdotes ; some of which 
 are as follow : 
 
 THE ADULTEROUS PRIEST. 
 
 '* You must know, gentlemen !" said he, 
 " that though there is not, perhaps, in any 
 country, a more decorous, moral, and virtuous 
 priesthood, generally speaking, than in Ireland,
 
 THE HUSH PEASANTRY, &C. 327 
 
 some of them have, of course, been suffered to 
 fall into the snares of temptation. When such 
 a misfortune occurs, however, the brethren, one 
 and all, instead of withdrawing from the trans- 
 gressor, (or his being publicly punished by his 
 superiors,) seem to shut their eyes and ears 
 against the accusation, let it be ever so glaring 
 or loud. This, no doubt, proceeds, in some de- 
 gree from the praiseworthy sentiment that they 
 are all partakers in the shame of their brother ; 
 and from a rooted determination to prevent 
 their own laity, and the members of the Pro- 
 testant church, from pointing the finger of scorn 
 at any individual delinquent ; thinking that if 
 the scandal be left to itself it will soon blow 
 over : and I have no doubt, that this delicacy 
 tends greatly to the preservation of purity 
 among the Catholic priesthood of Ireland. 
 
 " A remarkable instance of this occurred some 
 time ago, in the "county of Cork : A sawyer, 
 who worked for a gentleman, was directed to 
 attend early one morning to prepare timber for 
 the carpenter ; but he did not make his ap- 
 pearance till a late hour. His employer asked
 
 328 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 him wherefore he had delayed, knowing how 
 much he was wanted ; but the poor fellow seem- 
 ed labouring under the effect of great sorrow 
 and agitation ; and his brother, who was also his 
 comrade at the sawpit, replied, ' Plase your 
 honur, Maurice is hardly able to spake ! and 
 we would not have come to-day, at all at all, 
 but to make a great complaint and woful lamen- 
 tation to yer honur; for, as to work, that's 
 out of the question !' 
 
 " * What's the matter ?' said the gentleman ; 
 * Maurice seems very weak lead him to the 
 servants'-hall, where he shall have something 
 to recruit his spirits ; and I will be with you 
 immediately.' 1 
 
 " Having ordered some refreshment for the 
 poor fellow, the gentleman soon afterwards went 
 to hear the * complaint and woful lamentation ;' 
 which he did from his brother, as follows : 
 
 " ' Plase your honur,' said he, ' Maurice 
 and myself got up by cock-crow this morning, 
 to come down here, according to orders ; but as 
 it was rather early when we corned out of the 
 cabin, we laid our plan to go over to the other
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 329 
 
 side of the road into a little twig yard, to watch 
 what Julian, Maurice's wife, would do; because 
 d'ye see, plase yer honur, Maurice and my- 
 self have both of us suspected her for some 
 time, to be bad !' 
 
 " * Oh ! oh ! oh ! murder ! murder !' sighed 
 and exclaimed poor Maurice ; ' that iver I 
 should live to see the day !' 
 
 " ' Well, and as I was a saying, plase your 
 honur, there we stationed ourselves amongst 
 the twigs, and by the time that Julian thought 
 we were far enough off, didn't the cabin-door 
 open? and Julian looked about her; and didn't 
 she make off to the southward and cross the 
 river ? and the divil a sight we lost of her, till 
 we dogged her into the house she was bound 
 for. And when we reached that same, as good 
 luck would have it, by J she forgot to fasten 
 the door inside, and in we bowled ; and blow 
 me to the divil ! master, if we didn't catch her 
 in bed with Father Murtogh himself, and no 
 body else, saving your honur's favour.' 
 
 " ' Och ! och ! och ! Ochone ! ochone ! my 
 heart is sinking in the inside of me,' ejaculated
 
 330 THE CLUBS OF LOXDOX. 
 
 poor Maurice ; ' I am a dead man for the rest 
 of my life ; I niver will recover this blow !' 
 
 " * Is this possible ?' said the gentleman. 
 
 " ' Oh ! master, it is true as the sun,' said 
 the brother ; * would I tell yer honur a lie ? 
 and of the praist, too ! O farragh ! it is far 
 from me, that same thing ; and what are we to 
 do, master ?' 
 
 " ' I understand,' answered the gentleman, 
 ' that the bishop will be in this country shortly, 
 on his visitation : your best way is to tell all 
 the particulars to my steward ; let him put the 
 case on paper, and you can hand it to the bishop 
 as he rides along.' 
 
 *' ' Long life to your honur ! that same shall 
 be done,' said both the men : and they departed 
 for that purpose. 
 
 " The statement was prepared ; the bishop 
 and a party of his clergy did arrive in the 
 country ; and in about an hour after they had 
 passed the gentleman's house, Maurice and his 
 brother Jack arrived with the account of their 
 expedition. 
 
 " ' Well, Maurice/ inquired the gentleman,
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 331 
 
 ' have you handed your complaint to the 
 bishop ?' 
 
 " ' I have, master, sure enough/ replied 
 Maurice, * and I'll tell you all straight forward 
 as it happened. Well, as I was saying, didn't 
 myself and Jack stand upon the bank watching 
 his lordship's coming ; and when I stood before 
 him and made my reverence, didn't I give him 
 the paper ? and blood and death ! who should 
 be riding cheek by jowl by the side of him, but 
 Father Murtogh, his own self I 
 
 " ' Well, his lordship bids his vycar take his 
 horse's bridle, and out with his spectikles, and 
 he reads my paper : and who did he show it to 
 but to Murtogh ? and they fell whispering and 
 looking at one another. And when his lord- 
 ship had finished it, he stopped and called out, 
 4 Where is the man who handed me this petition ?' 
 
 " ' With that I corned for'ard, forenent him, 
 and said, making my reverence, ' I 'in the 
 boy, my Lord, that gived you that paper.' 
 Whereupon he looked as if he would burn 
 me up with the fire from his red nose, and he 
 began at me like the very ould one himself.
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " ' My friend, you are very badly advised, 1 
 said he, ' but that, I see clearly by your petition. 
 This paper was drawn up by some enemy of the 
 Christian church, he was no holy Roman Ca- 
 tholic :' and then he looks at me as if his eyes 
 would make a hole through my carcase, and he 
 says, ' Confess now this moment of time, ye re- 
 probate ! was it a Roman Catholic who wrote 
 this petition ?' 
 
 " * No, my Lord,' says I. 'Who was it?' 
 says he. ' Would you have me turn informer, 
 my Lord?' says I. ' I '11 make you leave off your 
 wickedness, 1 says he ; ' you are a sinful man ; 
 you seek to bring scandal on our holy faith ! 
 the accusation against your priest is impossible f 
 
 " ' I '11 be d d, master, if he didn't tell me 
 to my very face, that it was impossible ! after 
 Jack and myself catching Father Murtogh and 
 Julian in bed together! and by the virtue of 
 the cross ! he gave me such a tearing, that any 
 one to hear, must think I had been found 
 guilty of the h've ay, by the powers! of all 
 the seven cardinal sins; but h-11 to the word 
 to, or about, Father Murtogh, at all at all P
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 833 
 
 " To conclude, Father Murtogh had several 
 children by Julian, who, by the by, had never 
 had any by her husband the chief cause of her 
 infidelity; whilst her fruitfulness by the reve- 
 rend Father was reputed to be the effect of 
 righteousness !" 
 
 The foregoing anecdote having afforded much 
 amusement to the gentlemen to whom it was 
 addressed, Mr. thus continued his ac- 
 count of the peculiarities of his countrymen, 
 whose characters it would seem he had studied 
 thoroughly : 
 
 " I have already, gentlemen," said he, " given 
 you an instance of the difficulty of preserving 
 order and good morals among the Irish pea- 
 santry, in their present oppressed and degraded 
 state, even were they under the very best 
 constituted hierarchy. 
 
 " I shall now relate two anecdotes, the first 
 of which shows how the priests are sometimes 
 deceived by their flocks, even in the solemn 
 rite of Confession ; particularly, when the mat- 
 ter to be confessed is a depredation on the
 
 334 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 property of any Protestant who may have 
 injured them : and the second will illustrate 
 that community of interest which exists between 
 priest and people, and which compels the for- 
 mer, at the risk of giving mortal offence to the 
 powers that be, to screen the petty offender's 
 body from the arm of the law, at the same time 
 that he deals as gently with his immortal part, 
 as the circumstances of the case will permit. I 
 must premise, however, that very many of the 
 irregularities of these poor people are to be 
 ascribed to the denial of justice to them by 
 their superiors, particularly the magistracy ; 
 the consequence of which is, that they are driven 
 to the necessity of expedients, which wear the 
 semblance of a gratification of the passion of 
 revenge; though, in point of fact, they are only 
 acting on the natural principle of the law of 
 retaliation ; their oppressors being, in almost 
 every case, \hefirst transgressors of the law of 
 the land. 
 
 THE PRIEST AND THE PIGS. 
 
 " One day, during my residence in the
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 335 
 
 South of Ireland, I went to inspect a nursery 
 of young trees by the side of the avenue 
 which leads up to my house. Several labourers 
 were at work upon it; and as I approached 
 them, screened by the bushes, I overheard the 
 following dialogue : 
 
 " ' Well, blood and 'ounds, boys, did you 
 hear of Father Joe and Pat Horogan, about the 
 pigs? 1 
 
 " ' No, Jack/ they all vociferated ; * let us 
 have it. 1 
 
 " ' Why, you know Horogan stole Denny's 
 pig P 1 said Jack. 
 
 " ' Oh yes !' they all exclaimed, * we know 
 that. 1 
 
 " ' Well, then d'ye see,' continued their in- 
 formant, * when he was at confession he told 
 this to Father Joe, who ordered him to behave 
 himself or it would be worse for him and to 
 restore the pig that night. 1 
 
 " ' Oh, by the hokey ! plase your Reve- 
 rence,' said Pat, ' that 's beyond the power of 
 me: the pig is dead and gone, and eaten long 
 enough ago.'
 
 33G 
 
 THE t'LUBS 01 LONDON. 
 
 " * Pat, you are a bad member f said Father 
 Joe ; ' what was the worth of the pig ?' 
 
 " ' Ten shilling, plase yer Reverence,' said 
 Pat : now the pig, as we all know, boys, was 
 cheap at forty shilling, every hap^orth of it.' 
 
 " 'Well, 1 says the Father, 'you must pay the 
 man !' 
 
 " ' Thunder and 'ounds ! plase your Reve- 
 rence, 1 says Pat, ' is it to give that Sassanac 
 any thing? By the powers! it is he that 
 robbed myself! The tithe proctor rapparee, 
 last harvest, chated me of three pound and 
 more, and banished my brother, Mick Horogan, 
 to England, by an extortion of a tithe note, 
 that was paid before ; and poor . Micky forgot 
 to take it up out of the villain's hands, as 
 your Reverence knows better than I can tell 
 you. 1 
 
 '"That is true, Patrick, 1 said Father Joe; 
 * but our holy religion does not allow of steal- 
 ing the goods of another : it is against the com- 
 mandments of God. 1 
 
 "'But, thunder and death!' says Pat, 'is 
 there two kinds of commandments, one for..
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 337 
 
 these Cromwellian robbers; and another for us, 
 poor plundered Irish craturs ?' 
 
 " ' No,' said the priest, 'but though these 
 Protestants pay no obedience to the word of 
 God, because they have the foreign laws at 
 their side that does not justify us to dispense 
 with them.' 
 
 " ' Oh murder !' said Pat, * then I am to have 
 no revenge at all at all ? Well, ihere 's no help 
 for it ! Plase your Reverence, here is the ten 
 shilling for you.' 
 
 " * Very good,' says Father Joe : * now, my 
 dear child, go home, and pray to God to give 
 you strength to resist the Divil and all his 
 works : and the holy Vargin be with you on 
 your way !' 
 
 " ' Well, boys, Pat took his leave ; but pre- 
 sently returned, and says to Father Joe, f Plase 
 your Reverence, that Sassanac murderer has 
 another pig of the same litter: /'// take her 
 at the same money.' 1 
 
 " Oh no, Pat/ said the Father, ' I '11 have 
 nothing to do with it in that line.' 1 
 
 VOL. i. 25
 
 338 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " Here the whole party set up a loud laugh, 
 and Jack thus continued : ' Well now, boys, 
 ye '11 be right glad to hear the end of it : 
 Pat set off with himself; and by the holy ! he 
 took off the other pig that same night, and 
 gived Father Joe the other ten shilling : so, ye 
 see, Joe has twenty shilling, and Pat Horogan 
 has his three pound back? 
 
 " Peals of laughter now burst from the party, 
 all of whom loudly applauded Pat's ingenuity in 
 doing himself justice, and in tricking his con- 
 fessor." 
 
 A question here arising as to the honesty of 
 Father Joe, and the apparent collusion between 
 him and Horogan in stealing the second pig, the 
 narrator thus explained : 
 
 " We must not take it for granted, gentle- 
 men," said he, " that the expression alleged to 
 have been used by the priest, ' I '11 have nothing 
 to do with it in that line," 1 is literally correct. I 
 have related the dialogue as I heard it spoken ; 
 and I iiave no doubt that these words were at- 
 tributed to him by way of joke, and to raise a 
 laugh at his expense. As to the deodands,
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 339 
 
 that Father Joe restored the exact sum to the 
 owner of the pigs, which he received from Ho- 
 rogan, I was assured of by Denny himself ; 
 and that the reverend Father believed twenty 
 shillings to be the full value of the two ani- 
 mals, is as certain. The relation, as delivered 
 by Jack'to his fellows, merely proves that the 
 Irish Catholics do not hold their priesthood 
 exempt from avarice and divers other frailties 
 incident to human nature." 
 
 " I will now relate an instance of finesse or 
 pious fraud, on the part of a Catholic priest ; 
 which, I have no doubt, you will allow to be 
 creditable both to his head and heart. 1 ' 
 
 CURSING FROM THE ALTAR ! 
 
 " AT a confessional station, in an Irish farm 
 house of the better sort, the spiritual cere- 
 monies being all disposed of, the priest and 
 the communicants sat down, on a footing of 
 perfect equality, to an abundant dinner ; which 
 being concluded, they commenced paying their
 
 340 THE CLUBS OF LONDOK. 
 
 respects to the whiskey, of which they poured 
 out plentiful libations. 
 
 " Whilst they were thus amusing themselves, 
 the servant of a neighbouring Protestant gen- 
 tleman brought to the priest a note from his 
 master, written in these words : 
 
 " ' REVEREND SIR, 
 
 " ' This morning I discovered that an ash-tree, 
 well worth twenty guineas, had been cut down, 
 last night, or the night before, off my land 
 here ; you will greatly oblige me by cursing in 
 the most dreadful manner., from the altar, next 
 Sunday, the miscreant, or miscreants, guilty of 
 this horrible crime. 
 
 " ' You will let me know when you are draw- 
 ing your turf, that I may send help. 
 Your's, &c. 
 
 E. SMITH/ 
 
 " The priest put on his spectacles, read the 
 note twice or thrice, and said, ' My boy, give 
 my hearty commendations to your worthy mas- 
 ter tell him how I was engaged here in my
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 341 
 
 offices or that I would not send a verbal mes- 
 sage ; and, do you hear, boy, tell your master 
 that I will pay every attention to his letter ' 
 that I will. Mr. Leary,' (to the host,) f give 
 Mr. Smith's boy a glass of punch, if you plase. 
 And, Mr. Leary, (I beg pardon for being 
 so bold in your house,) I shall propose a good 
 health to Mr. Smith upon my word, he is 
 a worthy gentleman. Here is towards Mr. 
 Smith's good health f (drinking.) ' Drink to 
 your master's health, my boy."* The glass 
 being quaffed, the priest continued ' Here, 
 my child, take another glass to your master's 
 health,' which of course he did. 
 
 " The servant having taken his departure, the 
 priest pulled Mr. Smithes letter out of his 
 pocket, and read it pro bono publico, laughing 
 heartily, and saying, ' Upon my word, miracles 
 have not ceased yet. I am sure I know every 
 tree on Mount Pleasant, and I never heard of 
 one of them being worth five shillings P 
 
 " ' And what will you do, Father Mulligan ?' 
 said the farmer ; ' will you curse the boy that 
 took away the tree ?'
 
 342 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " ' Upon my word,' replied the priest, ' I 
 don't like to do such a thing; unless the thief 
 becomes stubborn and hardened, and that too 
 long time passes before I hear of it in confes- 
 sion.' 
 
 " * Dar dia !' said the farmer, ' I wouldn't 
 gratify the Sassanac thief by any such thing: 
 sure it's a good deed to cut down his trees, and 
 himself too, if need be, for he 's a great 
 oppressor, and be d d to his Cromwellian 
 sowl P 
 
 " This sentiment, which met with general 
 concurrence, the priest could not do otherwise 
 than endeavour to repress; but his arguments 
 made very little impression upon his audience, 
 who were far from being pleased that Smith's 
 wish was to be complied with. 
 
 " When the controversy had somewhat sub- 
 sided, a poor beggar-man presented himself at 
 the open window, and in piteous accent begged 
 for alms, * in the name, and for the tender 
 mercy of God P 
 
 " This petition being repeated two or three
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 343 
 
 times, the priest said, ' Go away from that ; 
 there is nothing for you go ! be on the march 
 immediately !' 
 
 " One of the farmers now seeing that this 
 was a good opportunity for playing off a 
 sarcasm on the priest, thus addressed the beg- 
 gar-man : ' O you fool, what made you make 
 mention of the name of God ? why did not you 
 say you came from Ned Smith, and you would 
 get a couple of glasses of punch, any how.' 
 The priest was ashamed and gave the poor man 
 a few pence ; at the same time recommending 
 him to the care of the host. 
 
 " At length Sunday came, which was the time 
 that Father Mulligan was to perform his pro- 
 mise to Mr. Smith ; and after the sermon he 
 thus delivered himself: ' Good Christians, I am 
 credibly informed that an ash tree of the value 
 of twenty guineas was cut down, last Tuesday 
 or Wednesday night, on the land of Edward 
 Smith, Esquire : now, my curse, and the curse 
 of God, light upon the man who cut down the 
 said tree of the value of twenty guineas, on the
 
 344 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 estate of the said Mr. Smith, unless he con- 
 fesses the same ; when he will be farther admo- 
 nished. 1 
 
 " When the words of this curse came to be 
 commented on, it was allowed to be the neatest 
 and cleverest thing ever heard of in the pa- 
 rish."* 
 
 Among other very curious and entertaining 
 anecdotes of the Irish priesthood, the following 
 produced such convulsive roars of laughter, by 
 the inimitable manner in which the gentleman 
 above alluded to related it, that the writer can- 
 
 * Whilst on the subject of Catholic cursing, it may 
 not be amiss to insert here a couple of Presbyterian ef- 
 fusions of the same kind. 
 
 A Scottish clergyman, named Linning, thus cursed 
 Louis XIV. of France, in his prayers : 
 
 " Lord curse him, confound him, and damn him ; dis- 
 tress him and deride him as thou didst Pharaoh, Senache- 
 rib, and our late King James, and his father Charles!" 
 
 Another of these gentry, a young fellow named Fra- 
 ser, thus blasphemously pronounced the blessing after a 
 sermon which he preached at Jedburgh : 
 
 " The curse of the Lord Jesus Christ, and of God the 
 Father, and of the Holy Ghost, be upon all those that hear 
 the word and profit not by it !"
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 345 
 
 not do better than conclude this article by its 
 insertion from his note-book : 
 
 A GENUINE CATHOLIC SERMON. 
 
 " About sixty years ago," said he, " when the 
 celebration of mass subjected the priest to the 
 dreadful horrors of a premunire, a Rev. Mr. 
 
 Lynch, Catholic pastor of the parish of , in 
 
 the county of Gal way, preached a sermon to his 
 flock, (who were pent up in an old malt-house,) 
 which for its singularity is worthy of relation, as 
 well as on account of the notice taken of it by 
 the people then in power. 
 
 " He took his text from the book of Tobit, 
 wherein he said was written, 
 
 ' Love me, love my dog.' 
 
 " He descanted for some time on the loveli- 
 ness of alms-giving universal charity and bene- 
 volence and dwelt on the superior manner in 
 which these pre-eminent virtues are practised by 
 the professors of the Holy Roman Catholic 
 faith. Contrasting which, with that professed 
 by other sects, he thus expressed himself:
 
 346 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " ' My brethren the three churches, the Ca- 
 tholic, the Presbyterian and the Protestant, 
 may be compared to the three cheeses ! the 
 mullahone cheese the buttermilk cheese and 
 the cream cheese. 
 
 " ' Take the mullahone cheese and put it 
 before the fire ; and it will drop a little drop of 
 grace, but no glory : that is the Presbyterian 
 church. 
 
 " ' Take the buttermilk cheese and hould it 
 before the fire ; and it will spit and fizz and 
 spit ; but no drop no drop : there is neither 
 grace nor glory there ! That is the Sassanac 
 Protestant church. 
 
 " ' Now, good Christians, take the cream 
 cheese and hould it before the fire: you '11 see 
 how it will drop, drop, drop, oh, so rich and 
 so sweet ! beautiful to look upon, delightful to 
 the taste, refreshing to the spirit ! Oh ! there 
 is the grace there is the glory ! that is the 
 holy Roman Catholic church, against which the 
 gates of hell cannot prevail. 
 
 ' ' My children, these Protestants pretend to 
 say, that it is forbidden to worship graven
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 347 
 
 images, for which they have a commandment ; 
 and they say we split their tenth commandment 
 in two halves, because we leave out the one 
 against the images ! 
 
 " ' Now I '11 show you plainly what murdhering 
 thieves these Protestants are. In the first place, 
 have they the book in which these command- 
 ments were written by the finger of God : sure 
 it is not many years since these deserters quitted 
 our ranks. How then did they get the book ? 
 they stole it, I suppose. If so, who would 
 believe a thief? Oh, no; the book was always 
 in the holy keeping of St. Peter, and given by 
 him into the hand of his Holiness the Pope: 
 therefore, there can be no mistake it is all 
 right as in our books. 
 
 " ( Again, dear Christians, attend to these 
 Protestants' 1 words. ' Don't worship graven 
 images,' they say : but when was this com- 
 mandment of the Protestant's given ? In the 
 time of Moses ? Oh, holy Father ! come down, 
 and judge this! Why there was not an en- 
 graver for two thousand years after Moses was 
 dead and berried in the bottom of the red say.
 
 348 TliE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 " ' Again, these Protestants say that ' God 
 commanded not to make the likeness of any 
 thing in Heaven above ;"* the Lord save us ! 
 How was it possible for any man to know any 
 thing of Heaven above, that he could take off' 
 the likeness of any thing there ? would the 
 Great God make such a law as that ? 
 
 " ' Again, ' nor of any thing in the water 
 under the earth.' These Englishmen, these 
 Sassanacs, who began the rebellion against their 
 holy mother, talk of us Irish making blunders 
 and bulls, as they call them ! who ever heard 
 of such a thundering bull as this? make the 
 likeness of any thing in the water under the 
 earth ! The water wider the earth ! I always 
 thought the waters lay on the earth : but these 
 Protestants go to hell for likenesses. What 
 water is there under the earth but the lake of 
 burning fire ? How was a holy Roman Catho- 
 lic to know any thing of that place ? God rest 
 the sowls of the faithful ! that he should be 
 forbidden to draw a picture out of it ? Is not 
 this to make an insignificant crature of the 
 Great God ; to be making laws against what it
 
 THE iniSIl PEASANTRY, &C. 349 
 
 was impossible to do ? these Protestants may as 
 well have forged a law against flying up to 
 heaven ! 
 
 " 'But they say that the Papists, as the villains 
 call the holy Roman Catholics, make pictures of 
 saints, and bow down before them and worship 
 them : look round these walls, my children ! 
 we have no pictures here, at all events, the Lord 
 save us ! Here we are, celebrating the un- 
 spoted sacrifice of the mass, in this wretched 
 magazine of malt : long life to Mr. Blake for 
 allowing that same to us ! But, indeed, if ye 
 were to be in the Vatican, the chapel apostolical 
 of his Holiness, it is there you would see the 
 fine paintings and pictures of holy men ! and for 
 what ? for what, but to keep them alive in our 
 memories, and make our gratitude the greater, 
 if possible, to those glorious saints in Heaven, 
 to whom the fathers of these Englishmen, these 
 Sassanacs, were all praying and recommending 
 their sowls, thirty or forty years ago : or, say 
 three or four hundred years ago ; sure all time 
 is but a span in the sight of the Great God ! 
 
 " ' But suppose we did bow down to them
 
 350 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 and pray for their good-will, and good word : 
 if we had these pictures, more 's the pity that 
 we are not able to mount them ; why not ? 
 What is my text ? 
 
 ' Love me, love my dog.' 
 Love God, love his saints : 
 Love his saints, love his saint's images. 
 
 that, I believe, is as plain as that one and one 
 make two. 
 
 " ' But of all the blasphemies that ever were 
 heard of, none of them equals that of these 
 Protestants, when they say there is no such place 
 as purgatory. Was the like ever heard afore ? 
 
 " ' Now, in the first place, what can any mor- 
 tals upon the face of the earth do without pur- 
 gatory ? Whereabouts arc the poor sowls to 
 go, when they have taken their flight from their 
 mass of earthly bodies, waiting the judgment? 
 Do the guilty go to the enjoyment of Heaven 
 with the saints and martyrs, for God only knows 
 how long ? Or do the righteous go to hell 
 amongst the damned ? the damned, do I say ? 
 How can they be condemned before conviction ? 
 no, my brethren, they are conducted to pur- 
 gatory, where they may be purged of the sins
 
 THE IRISH PEASANTRY, &C. 
 
 of this wicked world ; made partakers of a 
 glorious resurrection ; and from thence be sum- 
 moned to undergo a fair trial at the last day, 
 when this world will be on fire and have an 
 end. 
 
 " * The beautiful order of God's works is dis- 
 figured altogether without this place of refresh- 
 ment and atonement. 
 
 " ' But what signifies talking and guessing ? 
 let us come to the point. Ye all remember poor 
 Val Lynch, the lame tailor, and my own name- 
 sake, God rest his sowl ! he went to that said 
 purgatory. There he was snug enough, whilst 
 we were berrying him here. Well, Val was a 
 jovial sowl ; and as he was taking his pipe, and 
 playing his tricks, leaning against the wooden 
 partition, between purgatory and hell, in a fit 
 of laughter, the boards gave way ; and over he 
 went, head over heels, into the bottomless pit ! 
 
 " ' It was not long before I had news of his 
 sad condition : and off' I went to the Bishop of 
 Elphin to make my complaint. The bishop 
 set off 7 to the Archbishop of Tuam ; the arch- 
 bishop dispatched his vycar to his Holiness the 
 Pope; his Holiness wrote to St Peter; and
 
 THE CLUBS OF LONDON. 
 
 St. Peter sent an order to the Divil, the Lord 
 save us ! to deliver up Val immediately. And 
 where is Val now ? Is not he snug in pur- 
 gatory ? that he is, upon my vestment ! 
 
 " ' But, these Sassanacs say after all this, that 
 there is no such place as purgatory ! The next 
 time any of you hears one of them say so again, 
 'I '11 tell you what you '11 say to him ; and may 
 be that will convince him: tell him he lies! 
 that is it tell him he lies T 
 
 " Well, the reverend Father was so proud of 
 his composition, which was very long, and all to 
 the same purpose, that he had it printed! 
 and a copy being laid before the Privy Council 
 of Ireland, of that day, that sapient and en- 
 lightened body answered Father Lynch's ar- 
 guments in a like style of wisdom ; and equally 
 calculated to bring home conviction to the minds 
 
 o 
 
 of their proselytes. They offered a reward of 
 5GO/. for the apprehension of the preaching de- 
 linquent r 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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