[16]. The noble Earl had then also the appellation of “Blind Ben,” which had been conferred on him by the agreeable and witty Lady Aldborough, and which ought not to have been by any means considered derogatory, inasmuch as his name is certainly Benjamin, and one of his eyes is actually “not at home;” and as the abrupt mode of its quitting his Lordship’s service was rather humorous, it may be amusing to mention it.
He had once (as he thought) the honour of killing a crane. Benjamin’s evil genius, however, maliciously scattered the shot, and the crane had only been what they call in Ireland kilt; but feeling pretty sure that her death was determined on, she resolved to die heroically, and not unrevenged. She fell, and lying motionless, seduced her assassin to come and wring her head off, according to the usual rules and practice of humanity by fowlers. The honourable sportsman approached triumphantly, and stooping to seize the spolia opima, Madam Crane, (having as good eyes of her own as the one that took aim at her,) in return for his compliment, darted her long bill plump into the head of the Honourable Benjamin O’Neil Stratford, entering through the very same casement which he had closed the shutters of to take his aim. In fact, she turned the honourable gentleman’s eye clean out of its natural residence; and being thus fully gratified by extinguishing the light in one of her enemy’s lanterns, she resigned her body to be plucked, stuffed, and roasted, in the usual manner, as was performed accordingly. Thus, though her slayer was writhing in agony, his family was fully revenged by feasting on his tormentor. Daily consultations were held to ascertain whether her long rapier had not actually penetrated the brain of the Honourable Benjamin. One of the tenants being heard to say, in a most untenant-like manner, that it might in such case be all for the best, was asked his reason for so undutiful an expression; and replied, that if she had just pricked his honour’s brain, maybe it might have let out the humours, which would have done no harm either to his honour or to Baltinglass.
On their arrival in the presence of the doctor, who pretended never to know any body in Court, he asked, “Who those people were?” and on being informed, proceeded to inquire what business brought them there.
The Honourable Benjamin answered, “that he wanted a marriage-license for his nephew, George Hartpole, of Shrewl Castle, Esq., and Miss Maria Otway, of Castle Otway, County Tipperary.”
He had scarcely pronounced the words when the doctor, rising, with the utmost vehemence roared out, “George Hartpole! George Hartpole! is that the rascal who has another wife living?”
George, struck motionless, shrank within himself; but Benjamin, not being so easily frightened, said something equally warm, whereupon the doctor, without further ceremony, rushed at him, seized him by the collar, and cried, “Do you want me to countenance bigamy, you villains?” at the same time roaring to his crier and servants to “turn the fellows out!” which order, if not literally, was virtually performed, and the petitioners for a license congratulated themselves upon their providential escape from so outrageous a judge of prerogative.
The fact was, a suit of nullity had been actually commenced in the Court, but its merits never having been stated, the judge only knew Hartpole as a married man de facto, and it certainly could not appear very correct of the Honourable Benjamin to apply to the same judge who was to try the validity of the first marriage, to grant his license for the solemnization of a second while the first remained undecided. On Hartpole’s mind the circumstance made an indelible impression, and he never afterward took any further proceedings in the cause then instituted.
Hartpole returned to me and recounted the adventure, affecting to treat it as a jest against his uncle. But it was a vain disguise; although, by struggling sharply with his feelings, he in some degree overcame them.
But what was now to be done, since no license could be obtained in Dublin? A general consultation was held; Mr. Otway (still singularly to me) appeared to regard the circumstance as a mere bagatelle. I thought far otherwise; and it was so deeply engraven on Hartpole’s mind, that he mentioned it to me not three days previous to his dissolution, as having foreboded all his subsequent misfortunes.