And the attorney was quite correct in this comparison; it was actually a Russian bear, which Mr. Fitzgerald had educated from a cub, and which generally accompanied his master on his travels. He now gave bruin a rap upon the nose with a stick which he carried, and desired him to hold up his head. The brute obeyed: Fitzgerald then ordered him to kiss his neighbour; and the beast did as he was told, but accompanied his salute with such a tremendous roar, as roused the attorney (then almost swooning) to a full sense of his danger. Self-preservation is the first law of Nature, and at once gives courage, and suggests devices. On this occasion, every other kind of law—civil, criminal, or equitable—was set aside by the attorney. All his ideas, if any he had, were centred in one word—“escape;” and as a weasel, it is said, will attack a man if driven to desperation, so did the attorney spurn the menaces of Mr. Fitzgerald, who endeavoured to hold and detain him. The struggle was violent, but brief; bruin roared loud, but interfered not. Horror strengthened the solicitor; dashing against the carriage-door, he burst it open; and tumbling out, reeled into the public-house,—then rushing through a back door, and up a narrow lane that led to the village of Summer-hill (Mr. Roly’s demesne), about two miles distant, he stumbled over hillocks, tore through hedges and ditches, and never stopped till he came breathless to the little alehouse, completely covered with mud, and his clothes in rags. He there told so incoherent a story, that the people all took him for a man either bitten by a mad-dog or broken loose from his keepers; and considered it their duty to tie him, to prevent his biting or other mischief. In that manner they led him to Squire Roly’s, at the great house, where the hapless attorney was pinioned and confined in a stable for some hours till the squire got up. They put plenty of milk, bread, butter, and cheese into the manger, from the cock-loft above, to prevent accidents as they said.
Thus situated, Mr. T—— had leisure to come somewhat to his recollection, so as to be able to tell the story rather rationally to Mr. Roly, when he came to examine him—being held fast by four men while under interrogation; the result of which nearly killed old Roly with laughter. The attorney was now released, invited into the house to clean himself, and supplied with a surtout coat and hat; and after offering as many thanksgivings as could be expected from a solicitor of those days, for his providential escape, he had a comfortable breakfast provided; and at his earnest desire, Mr. Roly sent one of his carriages, and two armed servants, with him to his own house in Dublin, where he safely arrived in due season.
This adventure was circulated throughout Dublin with rapidity (as every thing comical then was), but with many variations and additions; and I remember it a standing story in every company that relished a joke.
It was some months before Mr. T—— wholly recovered from his terror; and several clients, who lost their causes, attributed their failures to the bear having turned the brain and injured the legal capacity and intellect of their lawyer. However, as a proof of the old adage, that “whatever is, is right,” this very adventure in all probability saved Mr. T—— from being hanged and quartered (as will immediately appear). So terrific did the very idea of George Robert Fitzgerald appear to him afterward, that he never ventured to ask him for the amount of his bill of costs, and gave him (in a negative way) all the leases, ejectments, and papers—together with his wardrobe, and a trifle of cash contained in his trunk which was left in the carriage.
Mr. Fitzgerald, having long had a design to put one Mr. M‘Donnell, of his county, hors du combat, for some old grudge, determined to seek an opportunity of doing it under the colour of M‘Donnell’s illegal resistance to a law process, which process Mr. T—— had (innocently) executed; in which case the attorney would, of course, as sportsmen say, “be in at the death.”
After the affair of the bear, no attorney or other legal man would entrust himself at Turlow;—it was, therefore, some time before Mr. Fitzgerald could carry the above purpose into execution;—when, at length, he found an old lawyer, who, with the aid of Mr. T——’s said ejectments, leases, &c. struck out a legal pretence for shooting Mr. M‘Donnell, which would probably have been fathered upon poor Mr. T—— if the bear had not stood his friend and packed him off to Summerhill instead of Turlow. As it was, this man (whose name was Brecknock), who acted for Fitzgerald as agent, adviser, attorney, &c. was hanged for his pains, as an accessory before the fact, in giving Mr. Fitzgerald a legal opinion; and Mr. Fitzgerald himself was hanged for the murder, solely on the evidence of his own groom, Scotch Andrew, the man who really committed it, by firing the fatal blunderbuss.
There can be no doubt he deserved the death he met; but there is also no doubt he was not legally convicted; and old Judge Robinson, then accounted the best lawyer on the bench, sarcastically remarked, that “the murderer was murdered.”
This incident had escaped both my notes and memory, when it was fully revived by the affair between my good old friend, Richard Martin of Connemara, and Mr. Fitzgerald, described in a preceding sketch, and originating in the latter yoking his own father in a dray by the side of that very bear.
MARTIAL LAW.
Law in Ireland half a century ago—Its delay remedied, but not its uncertainty—Principal and Interest—Eustace Stowell and Richard Martin—Valuable precedents—A bloodless duel—High sheriffs and their Subs—Irish method of serving a writ—Cases of warranty—Messrs. Reddy Long and Charley White—The latter guarantees an unsound horse to the author—Zeal of a second—Mr. Reddy Long’s valuable legacy to Sir Jonah Barrington.