The Earl John, my friend’s father, was rather in the opposite extreme. He was well read and friendly; indeed, a truer friend or more honourable person could not exist: yet he was a hard-goer (as it was called), and an incessant talker. His lordship occasionally adjourned to a kind of tavern in the city, of which a certain widow Madden was the hostess, and where one Mr. Evans, surnamed “Hell-cat,” together with the best boozers and other gentlemen of Kilkenny, assembled to amuse his lordship by their jests and warm punch, and to emulate each other in the devouring oysters and lobsters—the best which could possibly be procured. Hither, in fact, the company from the castle often repaired for amusement.
These boozing-matches sometimes proceeded rather too far; and, one night, Mr. Duffy, a sharp, smart, independent-minded apothecary of Kilkenny, who had offended the Ormonde family on some very sensitive point, being alluded to, a member of the party, with more zeal than prudence, proposed as a toast, “a round of rascals!” taking care to designate Doctor Duffy as belonging to that honourable fraternity. On departing from the tavern, far more full of liquor than wit, some wild young man in company suggested the demolition of the doctor’s windows: no sooner said than done!—the piper played, the stones flew, and Duffy’s shivered panes bore ample testimony to the strength of the widow’s beverage. No personal injury however ensued, and the affair appeared to have terminated.
A glazier was sent early next morning by command of my lord to repair the windows; but this the doctor refused to allow; and in due form applied for and obtained a criminal information in the King’s Bench for the outrage, against Lord Ormonde, his son Walter, James the present Marquess, Lord Thurles, and others. The information was, in due legal form, sent down to be tried at the spring assizes very soon after I had been appointed king’s counsel.
None felt more jealousy at my promotion than Mr. William Fletcher, (since judge of the Common Pleas,) many years my senior at the bar and on circuit. Lord Ormonde directed briefs to be sent to me and to Fletcher, with fees of fifteen guineas each. I never loved money much in my life, and therefore thought it quite enough; or rather, I did not think about it.
The defendant’s case fell of course to me as leading counsel. At this circumstance Fletcher felt sore, and ran sulky; and the sulkier he got the more zealous became I. We had but a bad case of it: the cross-examination of the irritated apothecary, who grew after awhile quite ferocious, fell to my lot. I performed my duty, and it then devolved on Fletcher to speak to the evidence. This however he declined to do. I pressed him; but he peremptorily refused. I exclaimed—“Nay, Fletcher, you took a fee: why not speak?”—“Yes,” answered the angry barrister, “just enough to make me hold my tongue!”—“Do speak,” persisted I. “I won’t,” replied he. “Then I must do it for you,” was my rejoinder. My zeal was enkindled, and I felt myself in earnest and interested. I persevered till I saw the jury smile, to do which, they only wanted a good pretence. I held on my course till I saw them pleased; and the result was an acquittal of Lord Ormonde, and a conviction of all the others.
To his lordship this acquittal was invaluable. The conviction of the Earl of Ormonde for a nocturnal outrage in his own town, would have been to him a source of the utmost dismay. I knew this, and acted accordingly. He had heard of the conversation between Fletcher and me; but he thanked both without distinction, and made no partial remarks. I was hurt for a moment at this apparent neglect, but thought of it no longer, and his lordship never mentioned the circumstance.
On the ensuing summer assizes Lord Ormonde invited the judges, barristers, several of the grand-jury, and the principal gentlemen of the county, to a magnificent dinner at the castle. It was a long table, and every thing in the grandest style. A judge sat on each side of Lady Ormonde at the head, and Fletcher and myself were their next neighbours. After the cloth was removed, and Lady Ormonde had retired, his lordship stood up, and, in a loud voice, said,—“I have waited with impatience for this public opportunity of expressing to Mr. Barrington the high sense I entertain of his important and disinterested services to me at the last assizes: I now beg his acceptance of a small testimonial of my gratitude and friendship.”—And he immediately slid along the table a magnificent gold snuff-box, with his arms, &c. and the following inscription:—
A Token of Friendship and Gratitude from the Earl of Ormonde and Ossory to Jonah Barrington, Esq., one of His Majesty’s Counsel at Law. August, 1794.
I was utterly astonished by this distinguished and most unexpected favour conferred in so public and honourable a manner; and involuntarily, without a moment’s thought, (but certainly with the appearance of ill-nature,) I triumphantly handed round the box for the inspection of my brother-barristers. Fletcher, confused as might be supposed, slightly shoved it back to me:—his conduct on the trial having been known, a sensation became visible amongst the company, which I would almost have given up the box to have avoided exciting. His countenance, however, though not usually subject to be much impressed by kind feelings, clearly acquitted me of any intentional insult: in truth, I really felt as much as he did when I perceived my error, and wished to pocket the prize without its creating further notice. But this was impossible: I was obliged to return thanks, which ceremony I went through very badly. Fletcher did not remain long, and I also adjourned at an early hour to the bar-room, where the incident had preceded me. I now tried my best to put all parties into good humour, and finished the night by a much deeper stoup of wine than I should have indulged in at Lord Ormonde’s.
Next morning I found a billet from the earl, enveloping a bank-note for 100l., with these words:—