Anecdote of Tottenham _in his boots_—Interesting trial of the Earl of
Kingston for murder—Description of the forms used on that occasion.
A very singular custom prevailed in the Irish House of Commons which
never was adopted in England, nor have I ever seen it mentioned in
print. The description of it may be amusing.
On the day whereon the routine business of the budget was to be opened,
for the purpose of voting supplies, the speaker invited the whole of the
members to dinner in the House, in his own and the adjoining chambers.
Several peers were accustomed to mix in the company; and I believe an
equally happy, joyous, and convivial assemblage of legislators never
were seen together. All distinctions as to government or opposition
parties were totally laid aside; harmony, wit, wine, and good-humour
reigning triumphant. The speaker, clerk, chancellor of the exchequer,
and a very few veteran financiers, remained in the House till the
necessary routine was gone through, and then joined their happy
comrades—the party seldom breaking up till midnight.
On the ensuing day the same festivities were repeated; but on the third
day, when the report was to be brought in, and the business discussed in
detail, the scene totally changed;—the convivialists were now
metamorphosed into downright public declamatory enemies, and, ranged on
opposite sides of the House, assailed each other without mercy. Every
questionable item was debated—every proposition deliberately discussed;
and more zealous or assiduous senators could nowhere be found than in
the very members who, during two days, had appeared to commit the whole
funds of the nation to the management of half a dozen arithmeticians.
But all this was consonant to the national character of the individuals.
Set them at table, and no men enjoyed themselves half so much; set them
to business, no men ever worked with more earnestness and effect. A
steady Irishman will do more in an hour, when fairly engaged upon a
matter which he understands, than any other countryman (so far, at
least, as my observation has gone) in two. The persons of whom I am more
immediately speaking were extraordinarily quick and sharp. I am,
however, at the same time, ready to admit that the lower orders of
officials—such, for instance, as mere clerks in the public offices,
exhibited no claim to a participation in the praise I have given their
superiors: they were, on the other hand, frequently confused and
incorrect; and amongst that description of persons I believe there were
then fewer competent men than in most countries.
Another custom in the House gave rise to a very curious anecdote, which
I shall here mention. The members of Parliament formerly attended the
House of Commons in full dress—an arrangement first broken through by
the following circumstance:—
A very important constitutional question was debating between government
and the opposition; a question, by the bye, at which my English readers
will probably feel surprised; namely, “as to the application of a sum of
60,000_l._, then lying _unappropriated_ in the Irish Treasury, being a
balance after paying all debts and demands upon the country or its
establishments.” The numbers seemed to be nearly poised,—although it had
been supposed that the majority would incline to give it to the king,
while the opposition would recommend laying it out upon the country;
when the serjeant-at-arms reported that a member wanted to force into
the House _undressed_, in dirty boots, and splashed up to his shoulders.
The speaker could not oppose custom to privilege, and was necessitated
to admit him. It proved to be Mr. Tottenham, of Ballycurry, County
Wexford, covered with mud, and wearing a pair of huge jack-boots! Having
heard that the question was likely to come on sooner than he expected,
he had (lest he should not be in time) mounted his horse at Ballycurry,
set off in the night, ridden nearly sixty miles up to the
Parliament-house direct, and rushed in, without washing or cleaning
himself, to vote for _the country_. He arrived just at the critical
moment! and critical it was, for the numbers were in truth _equal_, and
his casting vote gave a majority of one to “the country” party.
This anecdote could not die while the Irish Parliament lived; and I
recollect “Tottenham in his boots” remaining, down to a very late
period, a standing toast at certain patriotic Irish tables.
Being on the topic, (and, I confess, to me it is still an interesting
one,) I must remark a singular practical distinction in the rules of the
Irish and English Houses of Commons. In England, the House is cleared of
strangers for every division, and no person is supposed to see or know
in what way the representatives of the people exercise their trust. In
Ireland, on the contrary, the divisions were public, and red and black
lists were immediately published of the voters on every important
occasion. The origin of this distinction I cannot explain, but it must
be owned that the Irish was the most _constitutional_ practice.
One interesting scene at which I was present merits especial
description, on many accounts. No other instance of the kind has
occurred in the British Empire in my time; and as it forms a very
important record with relation to the independent political state of
Ireland at the period, and has not yet been made the subject of any
historical detail or observation, it cannot fail to be interesting in
every point of view:—I allude to the trial of a peer of the realm of
Ireland for murder, by the House of Lords in Dublin, after the
acknowledgment of Irish independence.
The grand and awful solemnity of that trial made a deep impression on my
memory; and, coupled with the recollection that it proclaimed
indisputably the sovereignty of the Irish nation, its effect on a
contemplative mind was of a penetrating nature.
Robert, Earl of Kingston, stood charged with the murder of Colonel
Fitzgerald, by shooting him. The relation of the circumstances of that
event would be, in every point of view, improper, and would only serve
to recall painful recollections long since sunk into oblivion. I
therefore abstain from any further allusion to them. The laws of the
country required the trial of the accused party at the bar of his
peers:—but as no similar case had occurred in Ireland within the memory
of man, it was requisite to consult precedents upon the subject, in
order to render his lordship’s trial conformable to the _Lex
Parliamentaria_ common to both countries. These precedents were
accordingly sought by the proper officers; and as his lordship was very
popular, and his provocation maddening,—and as all were ignorant of the
evidence which was to be brought forward, the whole affair was of a most
exciting nature to every man, more especially to those individuals who
possessed the noble lord’s acquaintance.
Owing to the great number of attendants, the full muster of peers, and
the extensive preparations of every kind necessary in order to adhere to
precedent, the House of Lords was supposed not to be sufficiently large
for the occasion.—The number of peers, in fact, had been more than
doubled since the time it was built.
The Irish House of Peers was considered one of the most beautiful and
commodious chambers possible. It combined every appearance of dignity
and comfort: the walls were covered with tapestry, representing the
battle of the Boyne, and the entire _coup-d’œil_ was grand and
interesting; but being, as I have said, considered too small for all the
purposes of the trial in question, the House of Commons was made ready
in preference.
Whoever had seen the interior of the Irish House of Commons must have
admired it as one of the most chaste and classic models of modern
architecture. A perfect rotunda, with Ionic pilasters, enclosed a
corridor which ran round the interior. The cupola, of immense height,
bestowed a magnificence which could rarely be surpassed; whilst a
gallery, supported by columns, divided into compartments, and
accommodating nearly 700 spectators, commanded an uninterrupted view of
the chamber.
This gallery, on every important debate, was filled, not by reporters,
but by the superior orders of society—the first rows being generally
occupied by ladies of fashion and rank, who diffused a brilliance over,
and excited a polite order and chivalrous decorum in that assembly which
the British House does not appear very sedulously to cultivate.
This fine chamber was now fitted up in such a way as to give it the most
solemn aspect. One compartment of seats in the body of the House was
covered with scarlet cloth, and appropriated to the peeresses and their
daughters, who ranged themselves according to the table of precedence.
The Commons, their families and friends, lined the galleries: the whole
house was superbly carpeted, and the speaker’s chair newly adorned for
the lord chancellor.—On the whole, it was by far the most impressive and
majestic spectacle ever exhibited within the walls of the Irish
Parliament.
At length the peers entered, according to their rank, in full dress, and
richly robed. Each man took his seat in profound silence; and even the
ladies (which was rather extraordinary) were likewise still. The
chancellor, bearing a white wand, having taken his chair, the most
interesting moment of all was at hand, and its approach really made me
shudder.
Sir Chichester Fortescue, king-at-arms, in his party-coloured robe,
entered first, carrying the armorial bearings of the accused nobleman
emblazoned on his shield: he placed himself on the left of the bar. Next
entered Lord Kingston himself, in deep mourning, moving with a slow and
melancholy step. His eyes were fixed on the ground; and, walking up to
the bar, he was placed next to the king-at-arms, who then held the
armorial shield on a level with his lordship’s shoulder.
The supposed executioner then approached, bearing a large hatchet with
an immense broad blade. It was painted black except within about two
inches of the edge, which was of bright polished steel. Placing himself
at the bar on the right of the prisoner, he raised the hatchet about as
high as his lordship’s neck, but with the edge averted; and thus he
remained during the whole of the trial. The forms, I understood,
prescribed that the edge should continue averted until the pronouncing
of judgment, when, if it were unfavourable, the blade was instantly to
be turned by the executioner _toward_ the prisoner, indicating at once
his sentence and his fate. The whole scene was extremely affecting.
I could not reconcile my mind to the thought of such a consummation. I
knew the accused party, and had a high regard for him; and hence I felt
a very uneasy sensation, inasmuch as I was profoundly ignorant of what
would be the termination of the awful scrutiny.
The usual legal ceremonies were now entered on:—the charge was read—the
prisoner pleaded not guilty—and the trial proceeded. A proclamation was
made (first generally, then name by name,) for the witnesses for the
prosecution to come forward. It is not easy to describe the anxiety and
suspense excited as each name was called over. The eyes of every body
were directed to the bar where the witnesses must enter, and every
little movement of the persons who thronged it was held to be intended
to make room for some accuser. None, however, appeared—thrice they were
called, but in vain: and it was then announced that “no witnesses
appearing, to substantiate the charge of murder against Robert, Earl of
Kingston, the trial should terminate in the accustomed manner.” The
chancellor proceeded to put the question; and every peer, according to
his rank, arose and deliberately walking by the chair in which the
chancellor was seated, placed his hand as he passed solemnly on his
heart, and repeated, “Not guilty, upon my honour!” (The bishops were,
very properly, precluded from voting in these criminal cases.) After all
had passed, which ceremony occupied an hour, the chancellor rose and
declared the opinion of the Peers of Ireland,—“That Robert, Earl of
Kingston, was not guilty of the charge against him.” His lordship then
broke his wand, descended from his chair, and thus ended the trial—most
interesting because it had at once a strong political and constitutional
bearing, and affected a nobleman universally beloved. The result was
highly satisfactory to every one who had learned the circumstances which
led to the fatal event for which the Earl of Kingston was
arraigned,—whose conduct, though strictly justifiable neither in law nor
morality, might have been adopted by the best of men under similar
provocation.
This was the first and last trial by the House of Peers in Ireland after
the declaration of Irish independence: and, all other considerations
apart, its record remains as a testimonial of the temporary emancipation
of Ireland from British trammels.