Of Lord Camden, I believe, there was no second opinion in the circle wherein I moved:—a better man could not be; but instead of governing, he was governed: and intimately acquainted as I was with every procedure and measure during his administration in Ireland, I do most fully acquit him, individually, of the outrageous, impolitic, and ill-judged measures which distinguished his rule. As to Lord Clare, he was despotic, and the greatest enemy Ireland ever had. His father had been a Roman Catholic, and intended for a priest, but changed his tenets, became a barrister of great and just celebrity, and left many children.
Lord Clare was latterly my most inveterate enemy: the cause shall hereafter[[60]] be no secret;—it arose from a vicious littleness of mind scarcely credible, and proves to me that implacability of temper never exists without attendant faults; and although it may be deprecated by cringing, is seldom influenced by feelings of generosity.
[60]. If this cause involved no names but his lordship’s and my own, it should appear in these volumes; but it is a much more comprehensive subject, and I feel too delicate on the point at present to enlarge further upon it.
LORD NORBURY.
Quarrel between Lord Norbury and the author in the House of Commons—Curran’s bon-mot—Dinner at Lord Redesdale’s, who attempts being agreeable, but is annoyed by Lord Norbury (then Mr. Toler)—Counsellor O’Farrell—Mr. (now Lord) Plunkett and Lord Redesdale—Lord Norbury and young Burke—His lordship presides at Carlow assizes in the character of Hawthorn.
Lord Norbury (then Mr. Toler) went circuit as judge the first circuit I went as barrister. He continued many years my friend, as warmly as he possibly could be the friend of any one, (he had been a sporting companion of my uncle, Harry French,) and I thought he was in earnest. One evening, however, coming hot with the Tuscan grape from Lord Clare’s (at that time my proclaimed enemy), he attacked me with an after-dinner volubility, which hurt and roused me very much. I kept indifferent bounds myself: but he was generally so very good-tempered, that I really felt a repugnance to indulge him with as tart a reply as a stranger would have received, and simply observed, that “I should only just give him that character which developed itself by his versatility—namely, that he had a hand for every man, and a heart for nobody!” I did not say this in an incensed tone, though I fear the sarcasm has stuck to him from that day to this. He returned a very warm answer, gave me a wink, and made his exit:—of course I followed. The serjeant-at-arms was instantly sent by the Speaker to pursue us with his attendants, and to bring both refractory members back to the House. Toler was caught by the skirts of his coat fastening in a door, and they laid hold of him just as the skirts were torn completely off. I was overtaken (while running away) in Nassau-street, and, as I resisted, was brought like a sack on a man’s shoulders, to the admiration of the mob, and thrown down in the body of the House. The Speaker told us we must give our honours forthwith that the matter should proceed no further:—Toler got up to defend himself; but as he then had no skirts to his coat, made a most ludicrous figure; and Curran put a finishing-stroke to the comicality of the scene, by gravely saying, that it was the most unparalleled insult ever offered to the House! as it appeared that one honourable member had trimmed another honourable member’s jacket within these walls, and nearly within view of the Speaker.
A general roar of laughter ensued. I gave my honour, as required, I think with more good-will than Toler; and would willingly have forgotten the affair altogether, which he apparently never did. I only hope that, when his memory declines, (which time cannot be very far off now,) our quarrel will be the first circumstance that slips it. If I could forget any thing, I should long ago have lost all recollection thereof.
Lord Norbury had more readiness of repartee than any man I ever knew who possessed neither classical wit nor genuine sentiment to make it valuable. But he had a fling at every thing; and, failing in one attempt, made another—sure of carrying his point before he relinquished his efforts. His extreme good-temper was a great advantage. The present Lord Redesdale was much (though unintentionally) annoyed by Lord Norbury, at one of the first dinners he gave (as lord chancellor of Ireland) to the judges and king’s counsel. Having heard that the members of the Irish bar (of whom he was then quite ignorant) were considered extremely witty, and being desirous, if possible, to adapt himself to their habits, his lordship had obviously got together some of his best bar-remarks (for of wit he was totally guiltless, if not inapprehensive) to repeat to his company, as occasion might offer; and if he could not be humorous, determined at least to be entertaining.