CHAPTER XXX. A DUBLIN DENTIST.
Several friends have suggested that, even at the risk of being considered discursive or irregular in the arrangement of my Gleanings and Reminiscences, I should not conclude without narrating a few of the incidents which my intimacy with the late Patrick Brophy, of Dawson Street, the State Dentist, enabled me to witness or to hear described by him.
He had commenced industrial avocations as an apprentice to a jeweller in Skinner Row, and became singularly skilful in the execution of articles in the precious metals, especially in the making of necklaces or setting of gems. He subsequently obtained employment from a German dentist who lived in Golden Lane; and from him he acquired a practical knowledge of the operative means necessary for the relief of personal suffering by stuffing or extracting teeth. The German returned to his native country in 1815, and Brophy immediately succeeded to his Dublin business. When I became acquainted with him, he was living in Dawson Street, and reputed to be in the most extensive practice of a profession for which he had not received any special preliminary instruction. He was extremely convivial, but far more willing to give than to receive invitations; and although his table was most profusely supplied with the choicest wines and spirits, I never perceived in him the slightest indication of intemperance. Amongst his intimates the most intimate was a gentleman who resided in the town of Galway, and whose person was so very bulky as to obtain for him the soubriquet of "The Great Western." He required no invitations to Brophy's table, for whenever he visited Dublin, he became a daily dinner guest during his stay; and certainly his host did not hesitate to make him the subject of tricks or bantering. At one time, Brophy had just returned from a Parisian trip, and brought home two or three shawl or scarf-pins made of polished steel, and having large mother-of-pearl heads. The "Great Western" was in town, and was in his usual place at dinner time, on a day when I happened to be a guest. Pat had a dark scarf on his neck, and it was fastened with one of the Parisian pins which I afterwards heard had cost about tenpence. His bulky friend had a finger ring, on which there was one diamond, and soon after dinner, he took it off, and handed it to Brophy, saying—
"Pat, you are considered a very competent judge of diamonds; what would you value that ring at?"
Brophy examined the article, and replied, "I think it is worth about thirty pounds."
"Well," said the other, "I bought it this morning at West's in Capel Street, for thirty guineas."
"I do not think you should be dissatisfied with your bargain. It is a nice, clear stone, and has been very neatly set," was the observation of our host; but the proprietor of the ring very soon observed that Pat was sporting a beautiful pearl pin, and asked him where he had procured it.
"This pin," said Brophy, taking it out of his scarf, and holding it up to the view of his interrogator, "should be in some national museum or institution where the relics of departed heroism and the memorials of glorious achievements would excite the curiosity and admiration of future generations. I have neither the time nor the ability necessary to the description of its formation or value. I almost wish that I never became its possessor."
The "Great Western" took the pin, and expressed his admiration at the neatness of its formation, and the clearness and smoothness of the beautiful pearl, of which he implored his dear friend Pat to disclose the entire history. Pat consented, and proceeded as follows:—
"I was for several years on terms of the closest intimacy with the late Dr. Auchmuty, who had a dispensary at Rathfarnham. In his latter years his teeth had completely decayed, and I made him a set, with which he was highly pleased, and for which I declined to accept of any remuneration. I kept them in order by occasional repairs and cleaning, and frequently visited the old doctor, for whom I had the highest esteem, and whose conversation was extremely interesting, for he had been a naval surgeon, and served on board the "Victory" at the battle of Trafalgar. At length he found his health declining very rapidly, and felt that his end was approaching; and he said to me, a short time before his death, that he wished to leave me a token of his gratitude for my attentions, and begged me to accept this pin, which he assured me was formed from a nail drawn from the timbers of the 'Victory,' steeled and highly polished, and then mounted with the pearl, which he had taken from Nelson's eye. Such is the simple history of this extraordinary relic."
"Oh! what a treasure you obtained from your old friend!" exclaimed the "Great Western," "exquisitely beautiful in appearance, and also surpassingly interesting in reference to its materials and origin."
"Its intrinsic value," said Brophy, "is not half, or perhaps a quarter, of what your ring cost."
"I would give two such rings for that pin," was the reply.
"Suppose I let you have it for one."
"I would close the bargain at once."
"Then close it," said Pat, handing the pin to the "Great Western," from whom he received in return the thirty-guinea ring.
Within forty-eight hours all the very numerous friends and acquaintances of the dentist became fully informed respecting the substitution of the Parisian shawl-pin for the pearl off Nelson's eye. The former owner of the ring became the object of cajolery and mock condolence wheresoever he appeared, and no one quizzed or bantered him more than his friend Pat, who advised him to get up a raffle for the pin, and offered to take three tickets, provided each chance of obtaining the Trafalgar relic did not exceed fourpence. He retained the ring; but, certainly, the "Great Western" could console himself in the enjoyment of very frequent repasts, which he appeared fully to appreciate.
When Prince Napoleon, some years since, went round Great Britain and Ireland in the Imperial yacht, "La Reine Hortense," he was detained at Galway by the weather becoming extremely boisterous. Having landed and arranged to remain for a few days at the railway hotel, he was waited on by the "Great Western," who then happened to be the High Sheriff, and who, accompanied by some of the principal gentry, welcomed the Prince, and expressed an anxiety to give him a cordial reception and to render his sojourn agreeable. The sheriff addressed him in French, but was immediately requested to speak English, with which language the Prince stated that he was perfectly acquainted. In a short time after, I was dining at Brophy's, and the Galway functionary commenced a narration of the interview, but was immediately interrupted by Pat, who told him that we knew all about the affair already.
"How can you know anything about it?" said the sheriff; "there was nothing published beyond the fact of our having called to pay our respects."
"Oh!" replied Pat, "one of your companions was here very soon after, and gave me the particulars fully, and I mentioned them to a great many of my friends. He said that you told those who were going with you that you would address Napoleon in French, and when you and the others were admitted, you began to speak, but were immediately stopped by the Prince, who said, 'Mr. Sheriff, you will greatly oblige me by speaking English, for I assure you and the other Galway gentlemen that I do not understand the Irish language.'"
The laughter excited by Brophy's imaginative statement that the sheriff's French had been mistaken for Irish was renewed and increased by the earnest declaration of the latter that the Prince had not uttered a word about the Irish language, nor imputed any imperfection to his French. By his energetic denials of the fiction he rendered it extremely amusing.
Along with great hospitality, Brophy afforded his guests frequent and varied amusements. He had a considerable number of costumes, which enabled him to impart a grotesque and motley appearance to the occupants of his dinner-table, or to produce a tableau vivant in his drawing-room. There was a young barrister whose stature exceeded six feet, and he was generally wigged, robed, and placed on an elevated seat, to be styled "The Lord High Chancellor." I was usually equipped to personate a Lord Mayor; but whenever his favorite tableau of the death of Nelson was produced, I was in the garb of a sailor, and had to catch the falling hero as soon as one who sang, with a splendid voice and great musical taste, the recitative and air descriptive of the casualty, came to the lines announcing—
"At length the fatal wound,
Which spread dismay around,
The hero's breast received."
The vocalist was not in view; he was in a side wing, where he was accompanied by pianoforte music, and the shot was simulated by a blow on a drum. Brophy's Nelson was a perfect make-up. He wore an admiral's uniform, presenting an armless sleeve and various decorations, and the green shade over the pearl on the sightless eye was not forgotten. I recollect one representation, when he fell more against my shoulder than across my arm and knee, but he immediately stood up and exclaimed, "D——n it, that won't do: I must die again."
He was very fond of music, and played the violin frequently, but confined his performances to jigs, reels, and lively Irish tunes. I called one evening, when I was told that he was not at home, but as I was leaving, the servant followed me, and I was informed that he wished me to go down to the lower room of "the return," where he had "a couple of fiddlers." When I entered the apartment, he said that he was glad I came, as I had two legs, and could increase the number amongst them to half-a-dozen. Each of his companions was minus a leg, but their hands were in perfect order, and their music was extremely pleasing.
The late Lord Rossmore was very intimate with Brophy, who was certainly not singular in admiring the many amiable and agreeable qualities invariably evinced by his noble friend. On one occasion Pat had engaged a first-rate player on the Irish pipes named Conolloy or Coneely, to enliven upwards of a dozen guests by his very delectable music. He was totally blind, and was placed on a chair in a corner of the parlour, where he played whilst we were dining, but he had been previously supplied with a plentiful repast. In the course of the evening, Brophy had a small table placed before the piper, and said that he had afforded us very great pleasure, but he should take a little rest, unyoke the pipes, and have a tumbler of punch, which was made by Brophy and put just at his hand. Almost immediately after this arrangement had been effected, Captain Toosey Williams urged Lord Rossmore to take the pipes and favor us with a tune or two. We all joined in the request to "his lordship," and he acceded to our wishes, and played several pieces of exquisitely sweet music, interspersed with most extraordinary imitations. In one, which was named "The Hare in the Corn," he produced sounds very much resembling the cry of harriers, and other tones like the notes of a hunting horn, terminating with two or three simulated squeaks, supposed to indicate the capture of the hare. He then proceeded to play the beautiful Scotch air of "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon," to which we were listening with great delight, when the blind piper rose from his seat, and exclaimed with furious indignation—
"I did not expect such treatment from any people calling themselves gentlemen. It was a most scandalous shame to bring me, a poor dark man, here to be humbugged as you are trying to do, calling on my lord to yoke my pipes and play for ye. He is as much "a lord" as I am myself; the d——l a lord ever played as he does, he's nothing but a rale piper. It is not honest or decent to try and deceive me, but you can't do it."
Brophy succeeded in pacifying the enraged musician by admitting that the performer was a real piper, and we had two or three tunes more. Conolly's indignation produced very great merriment amongst us, and no one enjoyed it more than the noble object of his censure.
There was a citizen of high commercial position, who was, I believe, justly reputed to be very wealthy. He was a widower, and had become habituated to take a very copious allowance of grog immediately before retiring to rest. He had a son whose society Brophy highly relished, for he had been an amateur performer in every scene of warfare to which he could obtain access. He had served in Portugal under the standard of Donna Maria, and subsequently joined the foreign legion embodied to contend against the claims of Don Carlos to the crown of Spain. The contests in which he had participated, and the vicissitudes he had undergone, enabled him to relate many interesting occurrences. He was a very agreeable companion, and was always welcome in Dawson Street. Brophy had made a set of teeth for the old gentleman, and when doing some occasional repairs, was informed of the fact, that every night the teeth were placed in a vessel of cold water, where they remained until their own owner restored them to his jaws in the morning. One evening the young man was expressing great dissatisfaction at the dull, tame, and insipid life he was leading, without having any incentive or opportunity to exhibit energy or attempt enterprise; and he added, that although he was well lodged, clothed, and dieted, he was personally penniless, for his father never allowed him any pocket-money.
"I'll get you a little cash," said Brophy. "Slip into his bedchamber, and bring me his teeth; he puts them in a water-basin before he goes to bed." In a night or two the suggestion was adopted, and Brophy immediately made some slight alteration to prevent them exactly fitting their owner, who very soon arrived in a most disconsolate state, and was scarcely able to express articulately the inconvenience and annoyance to which he was subjected. He admitted that he had not been quite sober when he went to bed, but felt certain that he had left the teeth in the basin as usual.
Brophy sympathised with the toothless patient, and told him that he would lose no time in remedying the disaster. He measured the mouth, and then said that there was a set nearly ready for a person who had bespoken them, which, with a little alteration, might fit the present occasion. The teeth were tried, they were a little too tight in one place, and not close enough in another; but these faults were speedily redressed, and the old gentleman was enabled to express distinctly his perfect satisfaction, adding—
"It is all right, Pat. There could not be a better dentist found in the world; and only that they did not fit when you tried them at first, I would most swear that my own teeth were back again in my head."
Brophy received twenty pounds, which were immediately transferred to the young fellow, who subsequently went to Italy to fight for the Pope, but never returned.
Patrick Brophy was a widower when my acquaintance with him commenced. At his marriage he had received from the bride's father one thousand pounds in cash, and a bond for a thousand pounds, the interest on which was to be paid half-yearly, and the principal to be liquidated at the death of the obligor. A sudden and very severe indisposition proved fatal to the bride in nine days after her wedding, and in the evening after her interment her husband returned the cash and bond to her parent. Although such conduct was certainly disinterested, and might by many be deemed even generous, he never relished any allusion or reference to it.
I believe that about the commencement of his dentistry pursuits, Brophy had some employment connected with Doctor Steevens' Hospital. I have heard that he used to repair or clean some instruments for the use of the institution; but I know that when he had attained to extensive practice and the incident advantages, he frequently evinced a great desire for the prosperity and advancement of it, and he frequently visited the old hospital, to all the wards of which he had full access. There was a stringent prohibition of the smoking of tobacco by any person whatever in the wards or passages, and a disobedience or neglect of this order was punishable by immediate expulsion from the premises. James Cusack, who, as a surgeon, was not to be surpassed, was the principal of the professional authorities, and he entertained a peculiar abhorrence of the slightest fume of tobacco being observed on the premises. On an afternoon stroll I accompanied Brophy until we were within a few yards of the building, when Cusack's carriage came rapidly up, and he alighted, and entered as soon as possible the principal male ward, in the most distant bed of which he saw a man in a sitting posture and smoking a pipe. The offender, perceiving that he was detected, reclined back, and drew the bedclothes about his shoulders. Cusack stepped rapidly to the bedside, and said—
"You have been smoking."
"No, sir."
"I saw you, you lying scoundrel."
"No, sir."
Cusack was standing close to the culprit, and turning round, he shouted for the attendants, who hurried to him; along with them Brophy and I entered the ward, when Cusack resumed—
"This man has been smoking tobacco; the pipe was in his mouth when I came into the ward."
"No, sir."
"You have the pipe in the bed with you."
"No, sir."
"Lift this fellow to another bed, and see that he has nothing wrapped in his shirt."
The order was obeyed, and then the vacated bed was strictly searched, the bolster, quilt, blankets, sheets, and mattress separately examined, but no pipe was forthcoming, Cusack repeated his positive assertions, that he had seen the fellow smoking, but he could only elicit another "No, sir." He was retiring from the ward, not perplexed in his conviction of having witnessed the forbidden indulgence, but disappointed and annoyed at the fruitless search. Returning to the offender, he said—
"I promise to forgive you fully, and leave you quite unpunished, if you now tell me where you put the pipe."
"Try your own pocket, sir."
Cusack put his hand in the back pocket of his overcoat, and there found the pipe, which the delinquent had slipped in as the other had turned about to call the attendants.
Great laughter supervened, in which the eminent and amiable James Cusack heartily joined. When we were leaving the hospital, Brophy went into the ward and gave the smoker half-a-crown, and on our way home he remarked that the fellow deserved a reward, as undoubtedly his trick upon Cusack was "as good as a play."
An intimate friend, whom I could also term a schoolfellow, named Vickers, was my companion on a Sunday walk in the summer of 1852, and we happened to direct our course to the Royal Hospital of Kilmainham, and finding that the door of the grounds so long used as a public cemetery was open, we entered, and seated ourselves in the centre of the inclosure, formerly known as "Bully's Acre," or the Hospital Fields, resting ourselves on the remains of an old monument, and enjoying the prospect presented by the varied and undulating surface of the Phœnix Park, and the rich country in its vicinity. My companion had been a medical student in his youth, and he related an adventure which the locality suggested to his recollection, and with the results of which Brophy was stated to have been unpleasantly and unprofitably connected. His narrative was as follows:—
"We had a very stirring row in that corner one night, when I was apprentice to old Aby Colles; for at that time we had generally to provide our own subjects, or to purchase them, at a very high price, from men who followed the calling of "sack-em-ups;" and as money was not always plenty, we used to form parties for the purpose of invading this and other burial-grounds, and exhuming the bodies. Brophy, the dentist, had a brother named Maurice, whom he was desirous of putting into the medical profession. He was a manly, generous fellow, and possessed a very strong inclination for anything that denoted enterprise, or promised excitement. Pat had taken a cottage and garden in Rathmines, and for his whim or amusement he went into a shop in Kennedy's Lane and purchased a spade; and having given his address, the seller wrote the name and address on the handle of the implement. The spade was sent home, and upon the same day a party was organised, of which I constituted one, to visit this place and disinter two or three bodies that had been buried in the morning. I mentioned to Maurice the project we had formed, and he eagerly joined in the undertaking. All was arranged; and we drove out to this place, left our cars at a little distance, and entered the ground, determined to work silently and quickly. However, our volunteer friend had provided himself with his brother's spade, and certainly used it with great despatch, although not so noiselessly as might be wished. But we had been watched. We were seen entering the cemetery, and a body of men, armed with every rough weapon that they could procure, came suddenly upon us. We had to retreat, and made a running fight until we reached the wall, and there our associate was attacked by a man who, with fearful imprecations, declared he would have his life. Blows were quickly interchanged; the combatants closed; and a fierce struggle occurred, which was terminated by Maurice urging his antagonist to the wall, and very speedily pitching him over; the depth at the other side was at least ten feet, although where the encounter occurred was only a foot or two lower than the wall top. The man fell, exclaiming that he was murdered. He groaned heavily; and we succeeded with great difficulty, and not without some severe blows from sticks and stones, in effecting an escape from a scene where we felt almost fully convinced that we had left a warm corpse in our attempt to obtain a cold one.
"On reaching Dublin, I accompanied Maurice to the house of his brother, who was greatly alarmed at our appearance, and still more at our narration of the adventure. When it was concluded, he eagerly asked where was the spade, and on being apprised that it had been left in the cemetery, he exclaimed that we would all be hung, or at best transported. 'I knew,' said he to his brother, 'that you would get yourself into an infernal scrape sooner or later; and now your only chance is to set off on foot, and make your way to Naas. I shall have an inside seat taken in the Limerick day-coach for a gentleman who will get in there; make your way to Limerick, and we will try and manage a passage for you from some southern part to get abroad.' Arrangements were made with brief despatch; our companion departed; and the dentist, retired to an uneasy bed, perplexed by fears of coroner's inquest, wilful murder, hue and cry, apprehension, trial, conviction, and execution of his unlucky brother.
"Next morning he had scarcely finished his breakfast when he was informed that M'Donough, the peace-officer, required to see him. He admitted the unwelcome visitant, and was informed that his orders[20] were to bring Mr. Brophy immediately to the Head Police-Office, and to keep him from communicating with any other person before he arrived there. There was no further explanation; and Brophy thought it prudent to refrain from any question beyond asking if he might take a car. This was at once acceded to; and as the peace-officer and his quasi prisoner were getting on the vehicle, a woman rapidly approached and screamed forth the dentist's name. He ascribed this circumstance to the grief or resentment of a bereaved widow or sister, who thought that she beheld in him one of the murderous authors of her misery; but the car drove off rapidly, and the police-office was reached without any further incident or interruption.
"The office was crowded, and at the table was seated Mr. William Hall, an attorney. Brophy and he were well acquainted, and a salute passed between them as the dentist sat down near the other. The magistrates were in their private room, engaged in some conference or consultation. After the lapse of a few minutes, Brophy ventured a word to Mr. Hall.
"'This is a very unpleasant business, Billy.'
"'Very annoying, indeed,' replied the other, 'I have not met a more unpleasant case for some time.'
"'Billy, would a little money be of any avail?'
"'Why, my dear fellow, thirty pounds would put an end to it altogether.'
"'Thirty pounds! Don't say another word. Here's the money. I depend on you that all will be right.'
"The magistrates[21] entered, and Billy Hall immediately proceeded to express his great gratification that it would not be necessary, or indeed possible, to go any further with the charge then pending before them. 'In fact,' said he, 'it is impossible to continue the prosecution, for the respectable gentleman, whose name was alleged to have been forged, has paid the bill, and it is now my duty to have it handed over to him in your worship's presence.'
"A bill of exchange was delivered, in compliance with Hall's direction, to Patrick Brophy, who found his name written as drawer upon it, in a manner closely resembling his own signature. Evidently surprised, he exclaimed that he thought he had been sent for on another matter.
"'What other matter, sir?' inquired Major Sirr.
"'Oh, nothing, nothing, sir,' said the enraged but fearful Brophy, who felt that an explanation, which would relieve him from the loss just incurred, might involve his brother Maurice in an accusation of dreadful import. 'Perhaps,' said a peace-officer, 'the gentleman knows something about a spade which we have below. We stopped a young vagabond pledging it on the Coombe, and it appears quite new. There was a name and direction on the handle, but the fellow scraped it almost entirely out. We have found, however, on inquiry in Kennedy's Lane, that this gentleman bought such a spade at Bryan Murphy's, yesterday.'
"'That spade,' said Brophy, 'is gone from Dublin. It was bought for a friend, and is forty miles away by this time.'
"'Then, what other business were you thinking of?" resumed the inquisitive Major.
"'Perhaps,' suggested Alderman Darley, 'his anxiety refers to the young woman from Dolphin's Barn, who is charged with concealing the birth of her infant, and who so obstinately refuses to tell who is its father.'
"'Alas! for the depravity of man,' said the Major. 'Shall we never be free from vice and its consequences, sin and sorrow, crime and punishment?'
"'Why, Major,' said Brophy, taking courage, 'I don't think you'll be quite free of them in a hurry; but I'd like to find out the other parties concerned in this darling bill, for, by G——, I'll make some of them pay it if I can.'
"'Fie, sir!' said the Major. 'It is plain that a mistaken lenity has led you to adopt a forgery; and I only hope that there may be more of them in circulation; for now having paid one, you cannot refuse the others; and as it is, I have a strong inclination to fine you for blasphemous swearing.'
"'Don't mind it, Major,' said Brophy, 'I won't swear any more; but when I get out of this, I think that I'll curse a little.'
"He departed, having paid thirty pounds for a forgery of his own name, and had no consolation beyond discovering, which he did very soon, that the fellow who had been thrown over the wall was not dead, nor even materially injured, and had taken his beating without making much noise about it, once it was over. The spade had been found by some poor vagrant, who sought quietly to dispose of it. Maurice was brought home again, and Pat was forced to acknowledge, amongst his bantering associates, that the spade had turned up 'a trump' for the forger."