“Mr. Sheriff, when I observe the quarter from whence the objection comes, I am not surprised at him who made it;—the hired traducer of his country—the excommunicated of his fellow-citizens—the regal rebel—the unpunished ruffian—the bigotted agitator!—In the city a firebrand—in the court a liar—in the streets a bully—in the field a coward!—And so obnoxious is he to the very party he wishes to espouse, that he is only supportable by doing those dirty acts the less vile refuse to execute!”
Giffard, thunderstruck, lost his usual assurance; and replied, in one single sentence, “I would spit upon him in a desert!”—which vapid exclamation was his sole retort!
I called for the roll, and, on inspection, the form of erasing Mr. Grattan’s name appeared to have been omitted. Of course, the objection was overruled,—my friend voted, and his triumph was complete.
The erasure of his name from the roll was never afterward attempted; and, on the dissolution of that parliament, he was requested by the very same body to stand forward as their “most illustrious countryman!” and elected by acclamation in that very same court-house, as the representative of the city and corporation which had so recently endeavoured to debase and destroy him; his chairing being attended with enthusiasm by those who some time before would with equal zeal have attended his execution. Never was there exhibited a more complete proof of causeless popular versatility; which, indeed, was repeatedly practised on that genuine patriot.—It totally disgusted me;—and for ever banished from my mind the charm of vulgar popularity, which envelopes patriots only to render their fall the more conspicuous. If a public character acts conscientiously, the less he seeks for popularity the more certainly he will acquire it, and the longer it will adhere to him.
Mr. John Giffard, the subject of the foregoing philippic, was a very remarkable person. He had a great deal of vulgar talent; a daring impetuosity; and was wholly indifferent to public opinion. From first to last he fought his way through the world; and finally worked himself up to be the most sturdy partisan I ever recollect in the train of government. His detestation of the Pope and his adoration of King William he carried to an excess quite ridiculous; in fact, on both subjects he seemed occasionally delirious. His life had many curious incidents connected with it; and as it would be wrong that a name so frequently occurring in the local history of Ireland should remain unnoticed, I have, therefore, in these fragments introduced it.
I did not agree with Mr. Grattan as to the epithets wherewith he honoured the captain. “A coward” he most certainly was not; and, with all his faults, he had several qualities which in social intercourse are highly valuable; and, hence, it is just to make a clear distinction between his private and his public character. He was as sincere, warm-hearted, and friendly a person as I ever met with; and, on the other hand, a bitterer enemy never existed: I do not think he ever was mine, and I certainly never was his: indeed, I had a very great regard for him in private, and sometimes in public—even against myself, because I found him sincere. Our first difference arose on that election, but never proceeded to any degree of hostility.
Giffard was originally an apothecary. When I was at the Dublin University, the students were wild and lawless:—any offence to one was considered as an offence to all; and as the elder sons of most men of rank and fortune in Ireland were then educated in Dublin College, it was dangerous to meddle with so powerful a set of students, who consequently did precisely what they chose (outside the college-gates). If they conceived offence against any body, the collegians made no scruple of bringing the offender into the court, and pumping him well; and their unanimity and numbers were so great, that it was quite impossible any youth could be selected for punishment. In my time, we used to break open what houses we pleased!—regularly beating the watch every night, except in one parish, which we always kept in pay, to lend us their poles wherewith to fight the others! In short, our conduct was outrageous; and the first check we ever received was from Giffard, who was a director of the watch, and resided close to the Parliament-house.
He having in some way annoyed the collegians, they determined to pump Giffard; but they reckoned without their host! He entrenched himself in his house, which we assailed, breaking all his windows. He gave repeated warnings to no purpose; and a new assault being commenced, Giffard fired a pistol, and a collegian was wounded in the wrist, whereupon the assailants immediately raised the siege.
It was a lucky shot for Giffard, who immediately obtained some parochial office for his firmness;—made himself of importance on every trifling subject; and harangued constantly in the vestry. Of his subsequent progress I know nothing till about the year 1790, when I became a public character, and found Giffard an attaché to the Castle in divers capacities. He was afterward placed in the revenue department, became a common-councilman, and at length high sheriff; at which epoch he acquired the title which forsook him not, of “The Dog in Office,” though wherefore, I could never rightly make out. His acts from that period became part of the general statistical history of Irish politics. One of his sons was butchered in cool blood by the rebels at Kildare, which naturally increased the ferocity of the father. His eldest son, Harding Giffard, and Mr. Croker of the Admiralty, married two sisters in Waterford. Mr. Croker’s good luck enabled him to aid his relative, who, having tried the Irish bar in vain for several years, has become chief justice of Ceylon:—Mr. Croker himself (after his unsuccessful professional essay) being casually indebted to several persons of celebrity for his very rapid elevation.
During the election we are speaking of, one Horish, a master chimney-sweeper, appeared on the hustings. This man, being known to have several votes at command besides his own, had been strongly canvassed, but would promise none of the candidates, or give the least hint how he intended to vote.