Thus was compromised the justice of the country. Thus commenced the brilliant career of that general whom the munificence of the British nation has immortalised by a monument amongst her heroes!—Thus did the blood of one of the finest youths of Ireland first whet Gillespie’s appetite for that course of glorious butchery to which he owed his subsequent elevation. But conscience is retributive, and Heaven is just. I hear that he was never happy after:—intrepid to excess, he often tempted fate; and his restless and remorseless existence was at length terminated by a Gentoo in India.
The circumstances attending General Gillespie’s death are remarkable, and manifest, in my opinion, desperation rather than real bravery. He had, contrary to instructions, attempted to storm:—his fire was inadequate—his troops repulsed:—new attempts were made, but again unsuccessfully, numerous brave men being sacrificed to no purpose. Still the general persisted;—even the guard was taken from the paymaster, who had treasure under his care.—Gillespie was aware that he had disobeyed instructions, and was determined to succeed or perish in the attempt. He damned the paymaster, who remonstrated against being left unprotected—looked for a moment at the storming party through his glass,—and seeing his men falling fast, he drew his sword, called upon every soldier to follow him, and in five minutes received several balls, which ended his cares and existence. Requiescat in pace!—but never will I set my foot in Westminster Abbey.
Scarcely was the melancholy trial referred to over, when the case was succeeded by another almost in the opposite extreme—altogether too ludicrous, indeed, to form the termination of so serious a business, but at the same time too extraordinary and too public to be omitted. It was certainly, in its way, as unparalleled an affair as that which gave rise to it.
On the evening of the trial, my second brother, Henry French Barrington,—a gentleman of considerable estate, and whose perfect good temper, but intrepid and irresistible impetuosity when assailed, were well known—the latter quality having been severely felt in the county before,—came to me. He was, in fact, a complete country gentleman, utterly ignorant of the law, its terms and proceedings; and as I was the first of my family who had ever followed any profession (the army excepted), my opinion, so soon as I became a counsellor, was considered by him as oracular: indeed, questions far beyond mine, and sometimes beyond the power of any person existing, to solve, were frequently submitted for my decision by our neighbours in the country.
Having called me aside out of the bar-room, my brother seemed greatly agitated, and informed me that a friend of ours, who had seen the jury-list, declared that it had been decidedly packed!—concluding his appeal by asking me what he ought to do? I told him, we should have “challenged the array.”—“That was my own opinion, Jonah,” said he, “and I will do it now!” adding an oath, and expressing a degree of animation which I could not account for. I apprised him that it was now too late, as it should have been done before the trial.
He said no more, but departed instantly, and I did not think again upon the subject. An hour after, however, my brother sent in a second request to see me. I found him, to all appearance, quite cool and tranquil. “I have done it, by G-d!—(cried he, exultingly)—’twas better late than never!” and immediately he produced from his coat-pocket a long queue and a handful of powdered hair and curls. “See here!” continued he, “the cowardly rascal!”
“Heavens!” cried I, “French, are you mad?”
“Mad!” replied he, “no, no! I followed your own advice exactly. I went directly after I left you to the grand-jury room to ‘challenge the array,’ and there I challenged the head of the array, that cowardly Lyons!—He peremptorily refused to fight me; so I knocked him down before the grand-jury, and cut off his curls and tail!—See, here they are,—the rascal! and my brother Jack is gone to flog the sub-sheriff!”
I was thunderstruck, and almost thought my brother was crazy, since he was obviously not in liquor at all. But after some inquiry, I found that, like many other country gentlemen, he took words in their commonest acceptation. He had seen the high sheriff coming in with a great “array,” and had thus conceived my suggestion as to challenging the array was literal; and accordingly, repairing to the grand-jury dining-room, had called the high sheriff aside, told him he had omitted challenging him before the trial, as he ought to have done according to advice of counsel; but that it was better late than never, and that he must immediately come out and fight him. Mr. Lyons conceiving my brother to be intoxicated, drew back, and refused the invitation in a most peremptory manner. French then collared him, tripped up his heels, and putting his foot on his breast, cut off his side-curls and queue with a carving-knife which an old waiter named Spedding (who had been my father’s butler, and liked the thing,) had readily brought him from the dinner-table. Having secured his spoils, my brother immediately came off in triumph to relate to me his achievement.
Mr. Lyons was a remarkably fine, handsome man; and, having lived very much abroad, was by no means acquainted with the humours of Irish country gentlemen, with whom he had associated but little, and by whom he was not at all liked; and this his first reception must have rather surprised him.