Singular anecdotes of Dr. Achmet Borumborad—He proposes to erect baths
in Dublin, in the Turkish fashion—Obtains grants from Parliament for
that purpose—The baths well executed—The Doctor’s banquet—Ludicrous
anecdote of nineteen noblemen and members of Parliament falling into
his grand salt-water bath—The accident nearly causes the ruin of the
Doctor and his establishment—He falls in love with Miss Hartigan, and
marries her—Sudden metamorphosis of the Turk into Mr. Patrick Joyce.
Until England dragged the sister kingdom with herself into the ruinous
expenses of the American war, Ireland owed no public debt.—There were no
taxes, save local ones: the Parliament, being composed of resident
gentlemen, interested in the prosperity and welfare of their country,
was profuse in promoting all useful schemes; and no projector, who could
show any reasonable grounds for seeking assistance, had difficulty in
finding a patron. On these points, indeed, the gentlemen who possessed
influence, were often unguarded, and sometimes extravagant;—but the
people lost nothing, since all was expended amongst themselves.
Among other projectors, whose ingenuity was excited by this liberal
conduct, was one of a very singular description—a _Turk_ who had come
over, or (as the _on-dit_ went) had _fled_ from Constantinople. He
proposed to establish, what was greatly wanted at that time in the Irish
metropolis, “Hot and Cold Sea-water Baths;” and by way of advancing his
pretensions to public encouragement, offered to open free baths for the
poor, on an extensive plan—giving them, as a doctor, attendance and
advice gratis, every day in the year. He spoke English very
intelligibly; his person was extremely remarkable; and the more so, as
he was the first _Turk_ who had ever walked the streets of Dublin in his
native costume. He was in height considerably above six feet, rather
pompous in his gait, and apparently powerful; an immense black beard
covering his chin and upper lip. There was, at the same time, something
cheerful and cordial in the man’s address; and, altogether, he cut a
very imposing figure. Every body liked Doctor Achmet Borumborad: his
Turkish dress, being extremely handsome, without any approach to the
tawdry, and crowned with an immense turban, drew the eyes of every
passer-by; and I must say that I have never myself seen a more
stately-looking Turk since that period.
The eccentricity of the Doctor’s appearance was, indeed, as will readily
be imagined, the occasion of much idle observation and conjecture. At
first, whenever he went abroad, a crowd of people, chiefly boys, was
sure to attend him—but at a respectful distance; and if he turned to
look behind him, the gaping boobies fled, as if they conceived even his
looks to be mortal. These fears, however, gradually wore away, and were
entirely shaken off, on the fact being made public, that he meant to
attend the poor; which undertaking was, in the usual spirit of
exaggeration, soon construed into an engagement, on the part of the
Doctor, to cure _all disorders whatever_! and hence he quickly became as
much admired and respected as he had previously been dreaded.
My fair readers will perhaps smile, when I assure them that the persons
who seemed to have the least apprehension of Doctor Borumborad, or
rather to think him “a very _nice_ Turk!” were the ladies of the
metropolis. Many a smart, snug little husband, who had been heretofore
considered “quite the thing,”—despotic in his own house, and peremptory
commandant of his own family, was now regarded as a wretched,
contemptible, close-shaven pigmy, in comparison with the immensity of
the Doctor’s figure and whiskers; and, what is more extraordinary, his
good-humour and engaging manners gained him many friends even among the
husbands themselves! he thus becoming, in a shorter period than could be
imagined, a particular favourite with the entire city, male and female.
Doctor Achmet Borumborad, having obtained footing thus far, next
succeeded surprisingly in making his way amongst the members of
Parliament. He was full of conversation, yet knew his proper distance;
pregnant with anecdote, but discreet in its expenditure; and he had the
peculiar talent of being humble without the _appearance_ of humility. A
submissive Turk would have been out of character, and a haughty one
excluded from society: the Doctor was aware of this, and regulated his
demeanour with remarkable skill upon all occasions (and they were
numerous) whereon (as a _lion_) he was invited to the tables of the
great. By this line of conduct, he managed to warm those who patronised
him into becoming violent partisans; and accordingly little or no
difficulty was experienced in getting a grant from Parliament for a
sufficient fund to commence his great metropolitan undertaking.
Baths were now planned after Turkish models. The money voted was most
faithfully appropriated; and a more ingenious or useful establishment
could not be formed in any metropolis. But the cash, it was discovered,
ran too short to enable the Doctor to complete his scheme; and, on the
ensuing session, a further vote became necessary, which was by no means
opposed, as the institution was good, fairly executed, and charitably
applied. The worthy Doctor kept his ground: session after session he
petitioned for fresh assistance, and never met with refusal: his profits
were good, and he lived well; whilst the baths proved of the utmost
benefit, and the poor received attention and service from his
establishment, without cost. An immense cold-bath was constructed, to
communicate with the river: it was large and deep, and entirely renewed
every tide. The neatest lodging rooms, for those patients who chose to
remain during a course of bathing, were added to the establishment, and
always occupied. In short, the whole affair became so popular, and Dr.
Achmet acquired so many friends, that the annual grants of Parliament
were considered nearly as matters of course.
But, alas! fortune is treacherous, and prosperity unstable. Whilst the
ingenious Borumborad was thus rapidly flourishing, an unlucky though
most ludicrous incident threw the poor fellow completely a-back; and,
without any fault on his part, nearly ruined both himself and his
institution.
Preparatory to every session it was the Doctor’s invariable custom to
give a grand dinner, at the baths, to a large number of his patrons,
members of Parliament, who were in the habit of proposing and supporting
his grants. He always, on these occasions, procured some professional
singers, as well as the finest wines in Ireland—endeavouring to render
the parties as joyous and convivial as possible. Some nobleman, or
commoner of note, always acted for him as chairman, the Doctor himself
being quite unassuming.
At the last commencement of a session, whereupon he anticipated this
patronage, it was intended to increase his grant, in order to meet the
expenses of certain new works, &c. which he had executed on the strength
of the ensuing supply; and the Doctor had invited nearly thirty of the
leading members to a grand dinner in his spacious saloon. The singers
were of the first order; the claret and champaign excellent; and never
was the Turk’s hospitality shown off to better advantage, or the
appetites of his guests administered to with greater success. The
effects of the wine, as usual on all such meetings in Ireland, began to
grow obvious. The elder and more discreet members were for adjourning;
whilst the juveniles declared they would stay for another dozen! and
Doctor Borumborad accordingly went down himself to his cellar, to select
and send up a choice dozen by way of _bonne bouche_ for _finishing_ the
refractory members of Parliament.
In his absence, Sir John S. Hamilton, though a very _dry_ member, took
it into his head that he had taken enough, and rose to go away, as is
customary in these days of freedom when people are so circumstanced: but
at that period men were not always their own masters on such occasions,
and a general cry arose of—“Stop, Sir John!—stop him!—the _bonne
bouche_!—the _bonne bouche_!”—The carousers were on the alert instantly:
Sir John opened the door and rushed out; the ante-chamber was not
lighted; some one or two-and-twenty stanch members stuck to his skirts;
when _splash_ at once comes Sir John, not into the street, but into the
great _cold-bath_, the door of which he had retreated by, in mistake!
The other Parliament-men were too close upon the baronet to stop short
(like the horse of a Cossack): in they went, by fours and fives; and one
or two, who, on hearing the splashing of the water, cunningly threw
themselves down on the brink to avoid popping in, operated directly as
stumbling-blocks to those behind, who thus obtained their full share of
a _bonne bouche_ none of the parties had bargained for.
When Doctor Borumborad re-entered, ushering a couple of servants laden
with a dozen of his best wine, and missed all his company, he thought
some devil had carried them off; but perceiving the door of his noble,
deep, cold-bath open, he with dismay rushed thither, and espied a full
committee of Irish Parliament-men either floating like so many corks
upon the surface, or scrambling to get out like mice who had fallen into
a bason! The Doctor’s _posse_ of attendants were immediately set at
work, and every one of the honourable members extricated: the quantity
of Liffey-water, however, which had made its way into their stomachs,
was not so easily removed, and most of them carried the beverage home to
their own bed-chambers.
It was unlucky, also, that as the Doctor was a Turk, he had no Christian
wardrobe to substitute for the well-soaked garments of the honourable
members. Such dresses, however, as he had, were speedily put into
requisition; the bathing attendants furnished their quota of dry
apparel; and all was speedily distributed amongst the swimmers, some of
whom exhibited in Turkish costume, others in bathing-shifts; and when
the clothes failed, blankets were pinned around the rest. Large fires
were made in every room; brandy and mulled wine liberally resorted to;
and as fast as sedan-chairs could be procured, the Irish Commoners were
sent home, cursing all Turks and infidels, and denouncing a crusade
against any thing coming from the same quarter of the globe as
Constantinople.
Poor Doctor Achmet Borumborad was distracted and quite inconsolable!
Next day he duly visited every suffering member, and though well
received, was acute enough to see that the ridicule with which they had
covered themselves was likely to work out eventually his ruin. His
anticipations were well-founded: though the members sought to hush up
the ridiculous parts of the story, they became, from that very attempt,
still more celebrated. In fact, it was too good a joke to escape the
embellishments of Irish humour; and the statement universally circulated
was—that “Doctor Borumborad had nearly drowned nineteen members of
Parliament, because they would not promise to vote for him!”
The poor doctor was now assailed in every way. Among other things, it
was asserted that he was the Turk who had strangled the Christians in
the Seven Towers at Constantinople!—Though every body laughed at _their
own_ inventions, they believed those of _other people_; and the
conclusion was, that no more grants could be proposed, since not a
single member was stout enough to mention the name of Borumborad! The
laugh, indeed, would have overwhelmed the best speech ever delivered in
the Irish Parliament.
Still the new works must be paid for, although no convenient vote came
to make the necessary provision: the poor doctor was therefore cramped a
little; but notwithstanding his embarrassment, he kept his ground well,
and lost no private friends, except such as the wearing-off of novelty
estranged. He continued to get on; and at length a new circumstance
intervened to restore his happiness, in a way as little to be
anticipated by the reader as was his previous discomfiture.
Love had actually seized upon the Turk above two years before the
accident we have been recording. A respectable surgeon of Dublin, of the
name of Hartigan, had what might be termed a very “neat” sister; and
this lady had made a lasting impression on the heart of Borumborad, who
had no reason to complain of his suit being treated with disdain, or
even indifference. On the contrary, Miss H. liked the doctor vastly! and
praised the Turks in general, both for their dashing spirit and their
beautiful whiskers. It was not, however, consistent either with her own
or her brother’s Christianity to submit to the doctor’s tremendous
beard, or think of matrimony; till “he had shaved the chin at least, and
got a parson to turn him into a Christian, or something of that kind.”
Upon those terms only would she surrender her charms and her money—for
some she had—to Doctor Achmet Borumborad, however amiable.
The doctor’s courtship with the members of Parliament having now
terminated, so far at any rate as further grants were concerned, and a
_grant_ of a much more tender nature being now within his reach, he
began seriously to consider if he should not at once capitulate to Miss
H., and exchange his beard and his Alcoran for a razor and the New
Testament. After weighing matters deliberately, love prevailed; and he
intimated by letter, in the proper vehemence of Asiatic passion, his
determination to turn Christian, discard his beard, and, throwing
himself at the feet of his beloved, vow eternal fidelity to her in the
holy bands of matrimony. He concluded by requesting an interview in the
presence of the young lady’s confidant, a Miss Owen, who resided next
door. His request was granted, and he repeated his proposal, which was
duly accepted, Miss Hartigan stipulating that he should never see her
again until the double promise in his letter was fully redeemed; upon
which he might mention his own day for the ceremony. The doctor having
engaged to comply, took leave:—for the last time he stroked his glossy
beard, and departed with a look so sensitive and tender, that both the
intended bride and bridesmaid regarded the yielding Musselman with the
fervor of an Asiatic constitution.
On the evening of the same day a gentleman was announced to the
bride-elect, with a message from Doctor Achmet Borumborad. Her
confidential neighbour was immediately summoned; the gentleman waiting
meantime in a coach at the door. At length Miss Hartigan and her friend
being ready to receive him, in walked a Christian gallant, in a suit of
full-dress black, and a very tall, fine-looking Christian he was! Miss
H. was surprised; she did not recognise her lover, particularly as she
thought it impossible he could have been made a Christian before the
ensuing Sunday! He immediately, however, fell on his knees, seized and
kissed her lily hand, and on her beginning to expostulate, cried out at
once, “Don’t be angry, my dear creature! to tell the honest truth, I am
as good a Christian as the archbishop; I’m your own countryman, sure
enough!—Mr. Patrick Joyce from Kilkenny county:—the devil a _Turk_ any
more than yourself, my sweet angel!” The ladies were astonished; but
astonishment did not prevent Miss Hartigan from keeping her word, and
Mr. and Mrs. Joyce became a very loving and happy couple.
The doctor’s great skill, however, was supposed to lie in his beard and
faith;—consequently, on this _dénouement_, the baths declined. But the
honest fellow had never done any discreditable or improper act; none
indeed was ever laid to his charge: he fully performed every engagement
with the Parliament whilst he retained the power to do so.
His beauty and portly appearance were considerably diminished by his
change of garb. The long beard and picturesque dress had been half the
battle; and he was, after his transformation, but a plain, rather
coarse, but still brave-looking fellow. An old memorandum-book reminded
me of these circumstances, as it noted a payment made to him by me on
behalf of my elder brother, who had been lodging in the bath-house at
the time of the _swimming match_.
I regret that I never inquired as to Joyce’s subsequent career, nor can
I say whether he is or not still in the land of the living. This little
story shows the facility with which public money was formerly voted,
and, at the same time, the comparatively fortunate financial state of
Ireland at that period, when the public purse could afford a
multiplicity of such supplies without any tax or imposition whatsoever
being laid upon the people to provide for them! How very different were
the measures of that Parliament even ten years afterward!
The early life of _Doctor Achmet Borumborad_ was obscure. All he
mentioned himself was, that he left Ireland very young, in a merchant
vessel, for Smyrna, where he lived with a high German doctor, who
performed _miraculous_ cures in that city. He affected to be a Turk, in
order to get a better insight into the country and people. He appeared a
man of much general information, and had studied the arts. Lord
Charlemont had met him in Greece, and became his patron in Ireland. He
was altogether a very well-conducted person; but being, as we have said,
the first _Turk_ (in appropriate costume) who had figured in Ireland,
and glowing accounts of harems and seraglios having been previously read
in the Arabian Nights; the doctor excited great curiosity, and not a
little interest among the _ladies_. The old and rich Countess of Brandon
fell desperately in love with his fine muscular person; but he never
could be prevailed on to return her passion. She died of age some years
before the Turk married Miss Hartigan.