My godfathers—Lord Maryborough—Personal description and extraordinary
character of Mr. Michael Lodge—My early education—At home—At school—My
private tutor, Rev. P. Crawley, described—Defects of the University
course—Lord Donoughmore’s father—Anecdote of the Vice-Provost—A
country sportsman’s education.
A christening was, formerly, a great family epocha:—my godfathers were
Mr. Pool of Ballyfin, and Captain Pigott of Brocologh Park; and I must
have been a very pleasant infant, for Mr. Pool, having no children,
desired to take me home with him, in which case I should probably have
cut out of feather a very good person and a very kind friend—the present
Lord Maryborough, whom Mr. Pool afterwards adopted whilst a midshipman
in the navy, and bequeathed him a noble demesne and a splendid estate
near my father’s. My family have always supported Lord Maryborough for
Queen’s County, and his lordship’s tenants supported me in my
hard-contested election for Maryborough in 1800.
No public functionary could act more laudably than Mr. Pool did whilst
secretary in Ireland; and it must be a high gratification to him to
reflect that, in the year 1800, he did not sell his vote, nor abet the
degradation of his country.
Captain Pigott expressed the same desire to patronise me as Mr.
Pool;—received a similar refusal, and left his property, I believe, to a
parcel of hospitals: whilst I was submitted to the guardianship of
Colonel Jonah Barrington, and the instructions of Mr. Michael Lodge, a
person of very considerable consequence in my early memoirs, and to
whose ideas and eccentricities I really believe I am indebted for a
great proportion of my own, and certainly not the worst of them.
Mr. George Lodge had married a love-daughter of old Stephen Fitzgerald,
Esq. of Bally Thomas, who by affinity was a relative of the house of
Cullenaghmore, and from this union sprang Mr. Michael Lodge.
I never shall forget his figure!—he was a tall man with thin legs and
great hands, and was generally biting one of his nails whilst employed
in teaching me. The top of his head was half bald: his remaining hair
was clubbed with a rose-ribbon; a tight stock, with a large silver
buckle to it behind, appeared to be almost choking him: his chin and
jaws were very long: and he used to hang his under jaw, shut one eye,
and look up to the ceiling, when he was thinking, or trying to recollect
any thing.
Mr. Michael Lodge had been what is called a Matross in the artillery
service. My grandfather had got him made a gauger; but he was turned
adrift for letting a poor man do something wrong about distilling. He
then became a land-surveyor and architect for the farmers:—he could
farry, cure cows of the murrain, had numerous secrets about cattle and
physic, and was accounted the best bleeder and bone-setter in that
county—all of which healing accomplishments he exercised gratis. He was
also a famous brewer and accountant—in fine, was every thing at
Cullenagh: steward, agent, caterer, farmer, sportsman, secretary, clerk
to the colonel as a magistrate, and also clerk to Mr. Barret as the
parson: but he would not sing a stave in church, though he’d chant
indefatigably in the hall. He had the greatest contempt for women, and
used to beat the maid-servants; whilst the men durst not vex him, as he
was quite despotic! He had a turning-lathe, a number of grinding-stones,
and a carpenter’s bench, in his room. He used to tin the saucepans,
which act he called _chymistry_; and I have seen him, like a tailor,
putting a new cape to his riding-coat! He made all sorts of nets, and
knit stockings; but above all, he piqued himself on the variety and
depth of his _learning_.
Under the tuition of this Mr. Michael Lodge, who was surnamed the “wise
man of Cullenaghmore,” I was placed at four years of age, to learn as
much of the foregoing as he could teach me in the next five years: at
the expiration of which period he had no doubt of my knowing as much as
himself, and then (he said) I should go to school “_to teach the
master_.”
This idea of teaching the master was the greatest possible incitement to
me; and as there was no other child in the house, I never was idle, but
was as inquisitive and troublesome as can be imagined. Every thing was
explained to me; and I not only got on surprisingly, but my memory was
found to be so strong, that Mr. Michael Lodge told my grandfather _half
learning_ would answer me as well as _whole learning_ would another
child. In truth, before my sixth year, I was making a very great hole in
Mr. Lodge’s stock of information (fortification and gunnery excepted),
and I verily believe he only began to learn many things himself when he
commenced teaching them to me.
He took me a regular course by Horn-book, Primer, Spelling-book,
Reading-made-Easy, Æsop’s Fables, &c.: but I soon aspired to such of the
old library books as had pictures in them; and particularly, a very
large History of the Bible with cuts was my constant study. Hence I knew
how every saint was murdered; and Mr. Lodge not only told me that each
martyr had a painter to take his portrait before death, but also fully
explained to me how they had all sat for their pictures, and assured me
that most of them had been murdered by the Papists. I recollect at this
day the faces of every one of them at their time of martyrdom; so
strongly do youthful impressions sink into the mind, when derived from
objects which at the time were viewed with interest.[14]
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Footnote 14:
Formerly the chimneys were all covered with tiles, having
scripture-pieces, examples of natural history, &c. daubed on them; and
there being a great variety, the father or mother (sitting of a
winter’s evening round the hearth with the young ones) explained the
meaning of the tiles out of the Bible, &c.; so that the impression was
made without being called a lesson, and the child acquired knowledge
without thinking that it was being taught. So far as it went, this was
one of the best modes of instruction.
-----
Be this as it may, however, my wise man, Mr. Michael Lodge, used his
heart, head, and hands, as zealously as he could to teach me most things
that he did know, and many things he did not know; but with a skill
which none of our schoolmasters practise, he made me think he was only
amusing instead of giving me a task. The old man tried to make me
inquisitive, and inclined to ask about the thing which he wanted to
explain to me; and consequently, at eight years old I could read prose
and poetry,—write text,—draw a house, a horse, and a game-cock,—tin a
copper saucepan, and turn my own tops. I could do the manual exercise
with my grandfather’s crutch; and had learnt, besides, how to make
bullets, pens, and black-ball; to dance a jig, sing a _cronaune_,[15]
and play the Jew’s harp. Michael also showed me, out of scripture, how
the world stood stock still whilst the sun was galloping round it; so
that it was no easy matter at college to satisfy me as to the Copernican
system. In fact, the old Matross gave me such a various and whimsical
assemblage of subjects to think about, that my young brain imbibed as
many odd, chivalrous, and puzzling theories as would drive some children
out of their senses; and, truly, I found it no easy matter to get rid of
several of them when it became absolutely necessary, whilst some I shall
certainly retain till my death’s day.
-----
Footnote 15:
The _Cronaune_ had _no words_; it was a curious species of song, quite
peculiar, I believe, to Ireland, and executed by drawing in the
greatest possible portion of breath, and then making a sound like a
humming-top:—whoever could _hum_ the longest, was accounted the best
Cronauner. In many country gentlemen’s houses, there was a fool kept
for the express purpose, who also played the trump, or Jews’-harp;
some of them in a surprising manner.
-----
This course of education I most sedulously followed, until it pleased
God to suspend my learning by the death of my grandfather, on whom I
doted. He had taught me the broad-sword exercise with his cane, how to
snap a pistol, and shoot with the bow and arrow; and had bespoken a
little quarter-staff, to perfect me in that favourite exercise of his
youth, by which he had been enabled to knock a gentleman’s brains out
for a wager, on the ridge of Maryborough, in company with the great
grandfather of the present Judge Arthur Moore, of the Common Pleas of
Ireland. It is a whimsical gratification to me, to think that I do not
at this moment forget much of the said instruction which I received
either from Michael Lodge, the Matross, or from Colonel Jonah
Barrington,—though after a lapse of nearly sixty years!
A new scene was now to be opened to me. I was carried to Dublin, and put
to the famous schoolmaster of that day, Dr. Ball, of St.
Michael-a-Powell’s, Ship-street;—one of the old round towers still
stands in the yard—towers which defy all tradition. Here my puzzling
commenced in good earnest. I was required to learn the _English_ Grammar
in the _Latin_ tongue; and to translate languages without understanding
any of them. I was taught prosody without verse, and rhetoric without
composition; and before I had ever heard any oration, except a sermon, I
was flogged for not minding my emphasis in recitation. To complete my
satisfaction,—for fear I should be idle during the course of the week,
castigation was regularly administered every Monday morning, to give me,
by anticipation, a sample of what the _repetition day_ might produce.
However, notwithstanding all this, I worked my way, got two premiums,
and at length was reported fit to be placed under the hands of a private
tutor, by whom I was to be _finished_ for the University.
That tutor was well known many years in Digges-street, Dublin, and cut a
still more extraordinary figure than the Matross. He was the Rev.
Patrick Crawly, Rector of Killgobbin, whose son was hanged a few years
ago for murdering two old women with a shoemaker’s hammer. My tutor’s
person was, in my imagination, of the same genus as that of Caliban. His
feet covered a considerable space of any room wherein he stood, and his
thumbs were so large that he could scarcely hold a book without hiding
more than half the page of it:—though bulky himself, his clothes doubled
the dimensions proper to suit his body; and an immense frowzy wig,
powdered once a week, covered a head which, for size and form, might vie
with a quarter-cask.
Vaccination not having as yet plundered horned cattle of their
disorders, its predecessor had left evident proofs of attachment to the
rector’s countenance. That old Christian malady, the small-pox, which
had resided so many centuries amongst our ancestors, and which modern
innovations have endeavoured to undermine, had placed his features in a
perfect state of compactness and security—each being sewed quite tight
to its neighbour, every seam appearing deep and gristly, so that the
whole visage appeared to defy alike the edge of the sharpest scalpel and
the skill of the most expert anatomist.
Yet this was as good-hearted a parson as ever lived:—affectionate,
friendly, and, so far as Greek, Latin, Prosody, and Euclid went,
excelled by few: and under him I acquired, in one year, more classical
knowledge than I had done during the former six,—whence I was enabled,
out of thirty-six pupils, to obtain an early place in the University of
Dublin, at entrance.
The college course, at that time, though a very learned one, was ill
arranged, pedantic, and totally out of sequence. Students were examined
in “Locke on the Human Understanding,” before their own had arrived at
the first stage of maturity; and Euclid was pressed upon their reason
before any one of them could comprehend a single problem. We were set to
work at the most abstruse sciences before we had well digested the
simpler ones, and posed ourselves at optics, natural philosophy, ethics,
astronomy, mathematics, metaphysics, &c. &c. without the least relief
from belles-lettres, modern history, geography, or poetry; in short,
without regard to any of those acquirements—the classics excepted,—which
form essential parts of a gentleman’s education.[16]
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Footnote 16:
Mr. Hutchinson, a later provost, father of Lord Donoughmore, went into
the opposite extreme; a most excellent classical scholar himself,
polished and well read, he wished to introduce every elegant branch of
erudition:—to cultivate the modern languages,—in short, to adapt the
course to the education of men of rank as well as men of science. The
plan was most laudable, but was considered not monastic enough:
indeed, a polished gentleman would have operated like a ghost among
those pedantic Fellows of Trinity College. Dr. Waller was the only
Fellow of that description I ever saw.
Mr. Hutchinson went too far in proposing a riding-house. The scheme
drew forth from Dr. Duigenan a pamphlet called “Pranceriana,” which
turned the project and projector into most consummate, but very coarse
and ill-natured ridicule.
Doctor Barrett, late vice-provost, dining at the table of the new
provost, who lived in a style of elegance attempted by none of his
predecessors, helped himself to what he thought a peach, but which
happened to be a shape made of ice. On taking it into his mouth, never
having tasted ice before, he supposed, from the pang given to his
teeth and the shock which his tongue and mouth instantly received,
that the sensation was produced by heat. Starting up, therefore, he
cried out (and it was the only oath he ever uttered), “I’m _scalded_,
by G—d!”—ran home, and sent for the next apothecary!
-----
Nevertheless, I jogged on with _bene_ for the classics—_satis_ for the
sciences—and _mediocriter_ for mathematics. I had, however, the
mortification of seeing the stupidest fellows I ever met, at school or
college, beat me out of the field in some of the examinations, and very
justly obtain premiums for sciences which I could not bring within the
scope of my comprehension.
My consolation is, that many men of superior talent to myself came off
no better; and I had the _satisfaction_ of hearing that some of the most
erudite, studious, and pedantic of my contemporary collegians, who
entertained an utter contempt for me, went out of their senses; and I do
believe that there are at this moment some of the most eminent of my
academic rivals amusing themselves in mad-houses. One of them I lamented
much—he still lives; his case is a most extraordinary one, and I shall
mention it hereafter:—’twill puzzle the doctors.
Whenever, indeed, I seek amusement by tracing the fate of such of my
school and college friends as I can get information about, I find that
many of the most promising and conspicuous have met untimely ends; and
that most of those men whose great talents distinguished them first in
the university and afterward at the bar, had entered, as sizers, for
provision as well as for learning:—indigence and genius were thus
jointly concerned in their merited elevation; and I am convinced that
the finest abilities are frequently buried alive in affluence and in
luxury: _revolutions_ are sometimes their hot-bed, and at other times
their grave.
The death of my grandmother, which now took place, made a very
considerable change in my situation, and I had sense enough, though
still very young, to see the necessity of turning my mind toward a
preparation for some lucrative profession—either law, physic, divinity,
or war.
I debated on all these, as I thought, with great impartiality:—the
pedantry of the book-worms had disgusted me with clericals; wooden legs
put me out of conceit with warfare; the horrors of death made me shudder
at medicine; the law was but a lottery-trade, too precarious for my
taste; and mercantile pursuits were too humiliating for my ambition.
Nothing, on the other hand, could induce me to remain a _walking
gentleman_: and so, every occupation that I could think of having its
peculiar disqualification, I remained a considerable time in a state of
uncertainty and disquietude.
Meanwhile, although my choice had nothing to do with the matter, by
residing at my father’s I got almost imperceptibly engaged in that
species of _profession_ exercised by young sportsmen, whereby I was
initiated into a number of _accomplishments_ ten times worse than the
negative ones of the walking gentleman:—namely,—riding, drinking,
dancing, carousing, hunting, shooting, fishing, fighting, racing,
cock-fighting, &c. &c.
After my grandmother’s death, as my father’s country-house was my home,
so my two elder brothers became my _tutors_—the rustics my
_precedents_—and a newspaper my _literature_. However, the foundation
for my propensities had been too well laid to be easily rooted up; and
whilst I certainly, for awhile, indulged in the habits of those around
me, I was not at all idle as to the pursuits I had been previously
accustomed to. I had a pretty good assortment of books of my own, and
seldom passed a day without devoting some part of it to reading or
letter-writing; and though I certainly somewhat mis-spent, I cannot
accuse myself of having lost, the period I passed at Blandsfort—since I
obtained therein a full insight into the manners, habits, and
dispositions of the different classes of Irish, in situations and under
circumstances which permitted nature to exhibit her traits without
restraint or caution: building on which foundation, my greatest pleasure
has ever been that of decyphering character, adding to and embellishing
the superstructure which my experience and observation have since
conspired to raise.
It is quite impossible I can give a better idea of the dissipation of
that period, into which I was thus plunged, than by describing an
incident I shall never forget, and which occurred very soon after my
first _entrée_ into the sporting sphere.—It happened in the year 1778,
and was then no kind of novelty:—wherever there were hounds, a kennel,
and a huntsman, there was the same species of _scena_, (with variations,
however, _ad libitum_,) when the frost and bad weather put a stop to
field avocations.