My first entrance into the Irish House of Commons—Dinner at Sir John
Parnell’s—Commencement of my intimacy with public men of
celebrity—Maiden speech—I attack Grattan and Curran—Suicide of Mr.
Thoroton—Lord De Blacquiere—His character.
The day on which I first took my seat in the Irish Parliament for the
city of Tuam I still reflect on as one of the most gratifying of my
life. The circumstance, abstractedly, was but of secondary
consideration; but its occurrence brought back to my mind the events of
past ages, and the high respectability of the race from which I sprang.
My imagination was excited, and led me almost to fancy that I could see
my forefathers ranged upon those seats which they had so long and so
honourably occupied in the senate of their country, welcoming their
descendant to that post which had not for a few years past been filled
by any member of the family. In fact, the purer part of my ambition was
hereby gratified. I felt myself an entirely independent representative
of an equally independent nation—as a man assuming his proper station in
society, not acquiring a new one.
I confess I always had, and still continue to have, and to nourish, the
pride which arises from having been born a gentleman. I am aware that
wealth, and commerce, and perhaps talent, have, in modern times,
occasioned family pride to be classed in the rank of follies; but I feel
it, nevertheless, most strongly:—and if it be even a crime, I am
culpable; if a folly, I submit to be regarded as imbecile. The
sensations I experienced were indeed altogether delightful upon finding
myself seated under that grand and solemn dome:—I looked around me, and
saw the most dignified men of that day,—the ablest orators of
Europe,—many of the best-bred courtiers, and some of the most
unsophisticated patriots in the empire! These, including a few friends
and intimates of my family, were mingled, here and there, in amicable
groups, and by turns kindly encouraged a young barrister, of only two
years’ practice, without patronage or party, as a fair independent
aspirant to rank and eminence.[38]
-----
Footnote 38:
Perhaps this may be considered rather too egotistical and highly
coloured; but I must observe that at that time the importance of a
member of the Irish Parliament was much greater in his country, than
that of an English member at present in _his_. The Irish parliament
was formerly almost wholly composed of gentlemen of family and high
respectability: there was neither an attorney nor a usurer in it; on
the contrary, there were no two professions in the world to which the
Irish gentlemen had so great an aversion; to the one from
_experience_, the other from _anticipation_.
-----
I was greatly moved and excited: but it was not excitement of an
ephemeral or feverish character; on the contrary, my emotions had their
source in a tranquil, deep-seated, perhaps proud, satisfaction,
impossible to be clearly described, and almost impossible to be felt by
any but such as might be placed in circumstances precisely similar.
There were some members present, I have already said, with whom I was
personally acquainted. My friend, Sir John Parnell—partly, I am sure, on
my account, and partly, no doubt, with a view to the service of
government, lost no time in introducing me to many of his own particular
friends.
I dined with him on that day: he was then chancellor of the exchequer.
The entire party I do not recollect; but I remember perfectly those
individuals of it with whom I subsequently cultivated acquaintance.
Among them were Major Hobart (since Lord Buckinghamshire), Isaac Corry,
Sir John (since Lord) De Blacquiere, Robert Thoroton, Marcus Beresford
(Lord Clare’s nephew), the present Lord Oriel (then Speaker), Thomas
Burgh, of Bert, Sir Hercules Langreish, and James Cuffe (since Lord
Tyrawley). The scene was new to me:—hitherto, my society in Dublin had
naturally fallen among the members of my own profession; we were all
barristers, and I felt myself but a barrister: and though certainly we
formed at that time the second-best society in Ireland, it was inferior
to that of which I had now become a member. I found myself, in fact,
associated as an equal with a circle of legislators whose good-breeding,
wit, and conviviality were mingled with political and general
information. I was in my element:—the first steps of the ladder were
mounted; and as meanwhile Sir John’s champaign was excellent, and
quickly passed round, my spirits rose to a pitch far higher than in the
morning, and any talent for conversation or anecdote which I might
possess involuntarily coming out, Sir John Parnell, shaking his fat
sides with laughter, according to his usual custom, said to me, before
we broke up, “Barrington, you’ll do!” upon which, Sir Hercules
Langreish, who had very much the tone of a Methodist preacher, yet was
one of the wittiest men in Ireland, immediately said,—“No: we must have
another trial;” and a day was fixed to dine with him.
My acquaintance soon augmented to a degree almost inconvenient. My
_friendship_ I limited to such men as I held to possess congeniality of
sentiment; and before any long time had elapsed, I was not only the
frequent guest of many of the distinguished characters of Ireland, but
was considered as an early and favoured candidate for any professional
promotion which the shortness of my standing at the bar would admit of.
Reflecting, soon after I had taken my seat, on the novel nature of my
situation, I felt that it was beset by considerable difficulties. I
allude to the decision necessary for me to come to with respect to the
line of politics I meant to pursue. I was not a _new_ man, by whom any
course might be taken, without exciting comment or question. On the
contrary, I was of an old family, the importance and influence of which
I was desirous to revive in that house, and hence it became requisite
that I should weigh my actions well, and avoid precipitancy.
Political parties at that time ran high, though but little individual
hostility existed. Grattan, the two Ponsonbys, Curran, Brownlow, Forbes,
Bowes, Daly, Connolly, Arthur Brown, and numerous other most respectable
personages were then linked together in a phalanx of opposition which,
under the name of Whiggery, not only assailed the government upon every
feasible occasion, but was always proposing measures which, under the
then existing system, were utterly inadmissible. The opposition had the
advantage in point of ability, and, therefore, nothing but supreme
talent had any chance, among them, of rendering its possessor useful or
valued. Though my nature was patriotic, I ever respected the
aristocracy, which, while the democracy exhibits a people’s general
character and energy, tends to embellish the state, and to give it an
imposing grandeur.
The supporters of the Irish government, as I have said, were certainly
inferior, except in patronage and power, to the opposition by which they
were assailed. But they lived socially: there was a sort of convivial
union among them, which, whether in high or low life, is, of all other
ties, for awhile most binding upon my countrymen. It was therefore
rather inconsistent in Lord Clare to give offence, as he did, to many of
the most respectable gentlemen of Ireland by calling the Whigs an
“eating and drinking club,”[39] since the sarcasm might, at least with
equal justice, have been retorted on the supporters of His Majesty’s
government. All the great constitutional questions were, in 1790,
supposed to have been arranged. Still the opposition sought a more
radical reform, to which the government would not accede. They wrangled,
in fact, about every trifle—and that at a time when the local concerns
of the country were advancing to the highest pitch of prosperity. To
neither party, however, attached any dishonourable stigma, which should
prevent an honest man from joining their ranks; and meanwhile, I sought
celebrity and advancement. The coast was clear before me. I was my own
master, and free to choose my own course. In case of my connecting
myself with the Whigs, I saw that I must play but a very inferior part
in their game. I felt that amidst such an assemblage of talent I had but
little right to expect eminence, and still less probability of acquiring
professional advancement, even if my friends should become victorious.
But, above all, I reflected that what at first view had appeared to me a
blaze of constitutional _patriotism_, dwindled, on a closer inspection,
into what is generally called _party_.
-----
Footnote 39:
What they called in Ireland _mahogany_ acquaintances.
-----
The country had prospered beyond all possible anticipation, and was
still further advancing in prosperity, under the then existing system of
administration. I did not perceive that any immediate change of men or
measures was at all in prospect, nor that it was at that moment
necessary, or even desirable. My immediate personal connexions were on
the side of the government. I had always doubted the sincerity of the
Whigs: my doubts were now realised, and, on the whole consideration, I
determined to attach myself to the administration. I had previously
voted with them on the choice of a Speaker; but that I did not consider
as constituting any pledge as to my future conduct. I voted for Mr.
Forster, as the friend of Sir John Parnell, and because I considered him
more fitting for the station than his opponent, Mr. William Ponsonby.
Thus, my mind being at length made up, I determined to render myself of
some importance to the side I had adopted. The common course of
desultory debate (even conquest over declaimers of my own calibre) would
have led to no distinction. I decided either to rise or fall; and with
this view, resolved to fly at once at the highest game, in which attempt
even if I should not succeed, the trial itself would be honourable. My
earliest effort was therefore directed against the two most celebrated
speakers of that period, Grattan and Curran; and on the first day I rose
I exhibited a specimen of what I may now call true arrogance. The
novelty of such unexpected effrontery surprised the House, and afterward
surprised myself. It was a species of bold hardihood, which, I believe,
no person who had a just sense of his own inferiority would have
ventured on without great hesitation. I launched into a strong philippic
on the conduct of the most able and respectable opposition that Ireland
had ever possessed. I followed and traced the Whigs, as I thought,
through all their meanderings and designs. In a word, I surpassed the
boundaries, not only of what I had myself resolved, but of what common
prudence and propriety should have dictated. The government party, at
the same time, was evidently not gratified. Its members, no doubt,
considered me as a lost partizan, who had courted and called for my own
suppression; and with some portion of the same feeling myself, I sat
down almost ashamed of my forwardness, and awaiting, if not with
resignation, at least with certainty, a just although cruel
chastisement. How then must I have been surprised, and how wofully
rebuked, by the mild and gentlemanly retorts which I received from
Grattan! whilst Curran’s good temper never showed itself more
conspicuously than in his treating me merely with wit and facetiousness.
I was abashed and mortified on contrasting the forbearance of those
great men with my own intemperance. Had I perceived any thing like
contempt in that forbearance, I really believe I should have found it
difficult to resume my spirits in the House; but no such feeling
appeared toward me; and it is most singular to say, that some incidents
which sprang from that very night’s debate gave rise both to the
friendship of Mr. Grattan,[40] with which I was afterward honoured, and
to the close intimacy between me and Mr. Curran, which was never after
interrupted.
-----
Footnote 40:
Though my actual intimacy with, and friendship for, Mr. Grattan, did
not mature at a _very_ early period, his conduct that night proved to
me the nobleness of his nature. I was impetuous, petulant, and
altogether too inexperienced for a debater. Mr. Cuffe, after I had put
forth something improperly warm as to Mr. Grattan, said to him, “Why
don’t you put down that chap at once? a single sentence of yours would
silence him completely.”—“No, no, no!” said Grattan, “we are not at
all on a fair level. I could do him a great deal of mischief; he can
do me none. _My_ name is made; _he_ is trying to make one, too: he’s a
bold boy, but I don’t think he is a bad one.”
-----
I had the good fortune, on that occasion, to make one fair hit as to
Grattan, which he afterward told me he was much pleased with. It came
across me at the moment:—in fact, most of the speeches I ever made have
been literally _impromptu_. I never studied a speech in my life, except
on law cases; and perhaps to this circumstance I may honestly attribute
an incorrectness of language that frequently attended my best efforts.
Grattan had repeatedly assailed our side of the house, as “a side from
which all public virtue had long been banished.” I observed, “that the
right honourable gentleman had proved unequivocally the falsehood of his
own assertion, that public virtue was confined to _one_ side of the
house; for I had had the honour of seeing the right honourable gentleman
himself on _both_!” I alluded to his having supported government against
Mr. Flood, after the vote of 50,000_l._ by parliament. This joke was
loudly cheered, and perhaps somewhat contributed to save me from
discomfiture.
From that day I attached myself zealously and sincerely to the
administration of Lord Westmoreland. I became more or less intimate with
almost every member of my party in parliament. I formed close and
lasting friendships with Edward Cooke, the unfortunate and lamented
Robert Thoroton, Isaac Corry, and Sir John De Blacquiere; and it was not
very long before the opposition also opened their convivial ranks to
receive me. Curran and Arthur Brown were the earliest of my intimates on
that side the house; and before 1792 had expired, I felt myself as happy
on all points, and as much befriended, as any man of my standing who had
preceded me.
Before I went into parliament, I had become acquainted with Mr. R.
Thoroton, who had come over to Ireland with the Duke of Rutland. He had
the manner of a coxcomb, but the heart of a friend, and the sentiments
of a gentleman. He was clerk of the House of Commons; and being by no
means a common man, formed a necessary part of all our societies. He and
I lived much together: and I found the intercourse very advantageous,
since my friend knew every thing that was going forward, and, under the
rose, set me right on many occasions. At the same time, I was aware that
circumstances existed which were the cause, to him, of great anxiety;
and, finally, a most unexpected event,—namely, the death of Mr. Thoroton
by his own hand,—deprived me of one of the sincerest and most useful
friends I ever possessed.
But among the foremost of all those persons who, from first to last,
endeavoured to do me service, was a man universally esteemed for his
gentlemanly manners, and as universally abused for public jobbing. As to
the latter, it concerned not me; whilst his friendship was of the
greatest advantage.
Sir John (afterward Lord) De Blacquiere (I believe of Swiss descent) had
been colonel of a regiment of heavy cavalry in Ireland; had acted as
secretary of legation in France with Lord Harcourt, and, having
succeeded him there for a short time as minister, came to Ireland with
his lordship as principal secretary, and becoming a permanent resident,
attached himself to that side of politics whence only he could derive
the great object of his exertions,—a revenue sufficiently ample to
enable him to entertain his friends as well, and far more agreeably,
than any other person I had previously met. Nobody ever understood
eating and drinking better than Sir John De Blacquiere; and no man ever
was better seconded in the former respect than he was by his cook, Mrs.
Smith, whom he brought from Paris, after he had been minister there. His
company seldom exceeded ten in number; but so happily was it selected,
that I never yet saw a person rise from his table who did not feel
gratified. Sir John was one of the old school; and with all the playful
good-breeding by which it was distinguished, he had nothing of that
starch pride which, in more recent times, has supplanted conviviality
without making men either wiser, better, or happier.
Sir John certainly was a _pluralist_, enjoying, at one time, the first,
the middle, and the last pension on the Irish civil list. He was
director of the public works in Dublin; and to his _jobbing_ is that
capital indebted for its wide streets, paving, lighting, and convenient
fountains. He made as much as he could of these works, it is true; but
every farthing he acquired in Ireland he expended in it. If his money
came from the public purse, it was distributed to the public benefit: if
he received pensions from the crown, butchers, bakers, and other
tradesmen pocketed every shilling of it. He knew employment to be the
best species of charity. In short, Sir John De Blacquiere was as much
abused, and as much regarded, as any public character of any period.