The entire of my uncle Stephen’s library and manuscripts, with the exception of the year books, Newcastle on the Manége, seven farriery and several cookery books, I gave to my friend, old Lundyfoot, to envelope his powder in; and most of my books being well impregnated, or rather populously inhabited by divers minute and nearly impalpable maggots, probably added some poignancy to the sneezing qualities of his celebrated preparation.
I recollect a whimsical expression used by Davy Lander, an Irish counsellor, whom I brought with me to hear the will read.
“By my soul, Barrington,” said Lander, “she was right enough in bequeathing her soul to God, out of hand, or the devil would certainly have taken it as heir-at-law! But I hope he has the reversion.”
That branch of the Geraldines is now entirely extinct, having ended with my cousin Fanny, the swaddler; and nothing now remains but the old castle, its celebrated ivy tree, St. Bridget’s stone, and my legends, to preserve even the recollection of Moret.
HANGING AN ATTORNEY BY ACCIDENT.
The attorney’s corps of yeomanry, and their strange appellation—Eccentric loyalty in Dublin—The Fogies—Sir John Ferns, and his anti-rebel resolve—Aide-de-Camp Potterton and the other members of Sir John’s chivalrous party—Tragi-comic incidents attending their martial progress—Admixture of discretion with bravery—Discovery of a suspicious lurker, and zealous anxiety for his immediate execution—Process of suspension—Attorney Walker’s accidental participation in the captive’s lot—Respective demeanor of the two sufferers—Appearance of the enemy in sight—The attorney relieved from his situation—Conclusion of the day’s adventures.
A hanging match of a very curious nature occurred a few days after the breaking out of the same rebellion in Dublin, and its relation will form an excellent companion to that of Lieutenant H——’s mode of execution (ante).
The attorneys’ corps of yeomanry, horse and foot, were at that period little less than 800 or 900 strong; and I really believe it might, in an enemy’s country, (or even in a remote district of its own,) have passed for as fine a “pulk of Cossacks” as ever came from the banks of the Don or the Danube.
In Ireland, every thing has its alias denomination;—in the regular army, certain regiments are honoured by the titles of the “King’s own,” the “Queen’s own,” or the “Prince’s own,” & c. Many of the Irish yeomanry corps, in 1798, were indulged with similar distinctions; not indeed by the King himself, but by his majesty’s sovereign mob of Dublin. For example, the attorneys’ regiment was christened, collectively, the “Devil’s own;” the infantry part of it, the Rifle Brigade; and the cavalry, the Chargers; the Custom-house corps, Cæsar’s (seizer’s) army, &c. &c. &c. The pre-eminent titles thus given to the attorneys, (who are gentlemen by Act of Parliament,) were devised by one Mr. Murry, a cheese and oilman in Great George Street, whose premises (as he deposed) were stormed one night by a patrol of that legal corps, and divers articles of the first quality-food and luxury, cheeses, hams, tongues, anchovies, Burton ale, and bottled porter, &c. were abstracted against his will therefrom, and feloniously conveyed into, and concealed in, the bodies, bowels, and intestines, of divers ravenous and thirsty attorneys, solicitors, and scriveners; and thereby conveyed beyond the reach or jurisdiction of any search warrants, replevins, or other legal process. A more curious deposition did not appear during the whole of those troublesome times, than that sworn by Mr. Murry, cheese and oilman, and annexed to a petition to parliament for compensation. However, the parliament, not considering Mr. Murry to be an extra-loyalist (but which the attorneys certainly were, and ultra into the bargain), refused to replenish his warehouse. In consequence whereof, Mr. Murry decided upon his own revenge by nicknaming the enemy, wherein he succeeded admirably.
Here I cannot avoid a little digression, by observing, that so strong and enthusiastic was the genuine loyalty which seized upon the nobility, gentry, and clergy of Dublin at that period, that even the young gentlemen of Merrion Square, who had so far advanced toward their grand climacteric as to exceed threescore, formed a strong band of volunteers, who proved their entire devotion to king and country, by first parading every fine evening, then drinking tea and playing whist, and afterwards patrolling all Merrion Square—east, west, north, and south; and if there had been any more sides, no doubt they would have patrolled them also. They then, in a most loyal manner, supped alternately at each other’s houses. They were commanded by Lord Viscount Allen, who was surnamed the “Bog of Allen,” from his size and substance, and contrasted with the Lieutenant-Colonel, Mr. Westenra, (father of the present Lord Rossmore,) who, having no flesh of his own, was denominated “the Commissary.” This company, as a body, were self-intitled the Garde du Corps, alluding to their commander Lord Allen; and as they could have (by the course of nature) but a short period either to fight or run away, and life, like every other commodity, when it runs rather short, becomes the more valuable, so they very wisely took most especial care of the remnants of their own, as civilians: and, of a wet or damp night, I have with great pleasure seen a score, at least, of our venerable Garde Grenadier gallantly patrolling Merrion Square, and marching in a long file of sedan-chairs, with their muskets sticking out of the windows ready to deploy and fire upon any rebel enemy to church or state, who should dare to oppose their progress and manœuvres.