The Army—Irish volunteers described—Their military ardour—The author
inoculated therewith—He grows cooler—The Church—The Faculty—The
Law—Objections to each—Colonel Barrington removes his establishment to
the Irish capital—A country gentleman taking up a city residence.
My veering opinion as to a choice of profession was nearly decided by
that military ardour which seized all Ireland, when the whole country
had entered into a resolution to free itself for ever from English
domination. The entire kingdom took up arms—regiments were formed in
every quarter—the highest, the lowest, and the middle orders, all
entered the ranks of freedom, and every corporation, whether civil or
military, pledged life and fortune to attain and establish Irish
independence, but with the same constitution, and under the same king as
England, inseparably and for ever united. England tried to _evade_, as
she could not _resist_ this; but in 1782 Ireland was pronounced a free
and independent nation.
My father had raised and commanded two corps—a dragoon troop called the
Cullenagh Rangers, and the Ballyroan Light Infantry. My elder brother
commanded the Kilkenny Horse, and the Durrow Light Dragoons. The general
enthusiasm caught me; and before I well knew what I was about, I found
myself a martinet and a red-hot patriot. Having been a university man, I
was also considered to be of course a _writer_, and was accordingly
called on to draw up resolutions for volunteer regiments all over the
county. This was my first attempt at political subjects; and a general
declaration which I wrote being short enough and warm enough to be
comprehended by all the parties, it was unanimously adopted—every man
swearing, as he kissed the blade of his sword, that he would adhere to
these resolutions to the last drop of his blood, which he would by no
means spare, till we had finally achieved the independence of our
country. We were very sincere, and really, I think, determined to
perish, (if necessary) in the cause—at least, I am sure, I was.
The national point was gained, but not without much difficulty and
danger. The Irish parliament had refused to grant supplies to the crown
or pass a mutiny bill for more than six months. The people had entered
into resolutions to prevent the importation of any British merchandise
or manufactures. The entire kingdom had disavowed all English authority
or jurisdiction, external or internal; the judges and magistrates had
declined to act under British statutes:—the flame had spread rapidly,
and had become irresistible.
The British Government saw that either temporising or an appeal to force
would occasion the final loss of Ireland: 150,000 independent soldiers,
well armed, well clothed, and well disciplined, were not to be coped
with,—and England yielded.[27] Thus the volunteers kept their oaths:
they redeemed their pledge, and did not lay down their arms until the
independence of Ireland had been pronounced from the throne, and the
distinctness of the Irish nation promulgated in the government gazette
of London.
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Footnote 27:
The Irish patriots demanded 30,000 stand of arms from Government,
which the latter not being so circumstanced as to enable them to
refuse with safety, they were delivered to the volunteers, from the
ordnance stores in Dublin Castle, and distributed among those corps
which were least able to purchase arms.
-----
Having carried our point with the English, and proposed to prove our
independence by going to war with Portugal about our linens, we
completely set up for ourselves, except that Ireland was bound, as I
before said, constitutionally and irrevocably, never to have any king
but the King of Great Britain—whether _de jure_ or _de facto_, however,
was not specified.
We were now, in fact, regularly in a fighting mood; and being quite in
good humour with England, determined to fight the French, who had
threatened to invade us. I recollect a volunteer belonging to one of my
father’s corps, (a schoolmaster of the name of Beal,) proposing a
resolution to the Ballyroan Infantry, which purported, “that they would
never stop fighting the French till they had flogged every _sowl_ of
them into mincemeat!” This magnanimous resolution was adopted with
cheers, and was, as usual, sworn to, each hero kissing the muzzle of his
musket. In truth, the whole nation being well prepared for blows; and
disappointed, as a fellow-countryman gravely observed to me at the
period, of fighting the English, were quite _anxious_ to have a bout
with the French: so long, indeed, as they could get a good meal of
fighting, they were just then no great epicures as to _who_ were _served
up_.
I am not going any further into a history of those times, to which I
have alluded only to show what, for the moment, excited my warlike
ardour, and fixed my determination, although but temporarily, to adopt
the military profession.
On communicating this decision to my father, he procured me, from a
friend and neighbour, General Hunt Walsh, a commission in that officer’s
own regiment, the 30th. The style of the thing pleased me very
well:—but, upon being informed that I should immediately join the
regiment, in America, my heroic tendencies received a serious check. I
had not contemplated transatlantic emigration; and feeling that I could
get my head broken just as well in my own country, I, after a few days’
mature consideration, perceived my military ardour grow cooler and
cooler every hour—until, at length, it was obviously defunct. I
therefore wrote to the General a most thankful letter, at the same time
“begging the favour of him to present my commission in his regiment to
some hardier soldier, who could serve his majesty with more vigour; as
I, having been brought up by my _grandmother_, felt as yet too _tender_
to be any way effective on foreign service—though I had no objection to
fight as much as possible in Ireland, if necessary.” General Walsh
accepted my resignation, and presented my commission to a young friend
of his, (an only son) whose brains were blown out in the very first
engagement.
Having thus rejected the army, I next turned my thoughts to that very
opposite profession—the church. But though preaching was certainly a
much safer and more agreeable employment than bush-fighting, yet a
curacy and a wooden leg being pretty much on a parallel in point of
remuneration, and as I had the strongest objection to be either
dismembered or half starved, in the service of the king or the altar, I
also declined the cassock, assuring my father that “I felt I was not
steady enough to make an ‘exemplary parson;’ and as any other kind of
parson generally did more harm than good in a country, I could not, in
conscience, take charge of the morals of a flock of men, women, and
children, when I should have quite enough to do to manage my own; and
should therefore leave the church to some more orthodox graduate.”
Medicine was next in the list of professions to which I had,
abstractedly, some liking. I had attended several courses of anatomical
lectures at Dublin; and although with very repugnant feelings had
studied that most sublime of all sciences, human organization, by a
persevering attention to the celebrated wax-works of that university.
Yet my horror and disgust of _animal putridity_ in all its branches was
so great, (inclusive even of _stinking venison_, which most people
admire,) that all surgical practice by me was necessarily out of the
question; and medicine, without a touch of surgery, presenting no better
chance of making a fortune, shared a similar fate with the sword and the
pulpit.
Of the liberal and learned professions, there remained but one, namely,
the law. Now, as to this, I was told by several old practitioners, who
had retired into the country, (as I afterward found, from having no
business to do in town,) that if I were even as wise as Alfred, as
learned as Lycurgus, or as vociferous as Serjeant Toler,—nobody would
give me sixpence for all my law (if I had a hundred weight of it), until
I had spent at least ten years in watching the manufacture. However,
they consoled me by saying, that if I could put up with light eating
during that period, I might then have a very reasonable chance of
getting some briefs, particularly after inviting a gang of attorneys to
dine with me.—Here I was damped again! and though I should have broken
my heart if condemned to remain much longer a walking gentleman, I
determined to wait awhile, and see if nature would open my propensities
a little wider, and give me some more decisive indication of what she
thought me fittest for.
While in this comfortless state of indecision, my father, like other
country gentlemen, to gratify his lady under the amiable pretence of
educating the children, gave his consent to be launched into the new
scenes and pleasures of a city residence. He accordingly purchased an
excellent house in Clare-street, Merrion-square; left a steward in the
country to _mis_manage his concerns there; made up new wardrobes for the
servants; got a fierce three-cocked hat, with a gold button and loop to
it, for himself; and removed his establishment (the hounds excepted) to
the metropolis of Ireland.
Here my good and well-bred mother (for such she was) had her Galway
pride revived and gratified; the old green coach _de cérémonie_ was
regilt and regarnished, and four black geldings, with two postilions and
a sixteen-stone footman (in white, scarlet, and laced liveries)
completed her equipage.
I had my _bit of blood_ in the stable; my elder brother, who had been in
the First Horse, had plenty of them:—my father had his old hunter “brown
Jack;” and we set out at what is commonly called a _great rate_—but
which great rates are generally, like a fox-chase, more hot than
durable. However, the thing went on well enough; and during our city
residence many pleasurable and many whimsical incidents occurred to me
and other individuals of my family; one of which was most interesting to
myself, and will form a leading feature in my subsequent Sketches.
Before adverting to this, however, I will mention a lamentable event
which occurred during our stay in Clare-street, to a neighbour of ours,
Captain O’Flaherty, brother to Sir John, whom I shall hereafter notice.
The captain resided nearly facing us; and though the event I speak of,
and the very extraordinary incident which succeeded it, are clearly
digressions, yet the whole story is so singular, that I will, without
further apology, introduce it.