The institution of Orangemen—United Irishmen—Protestant ascendancy—Dr.
Duigenan—Origin, progress, and customs of the aldermen of Skinners’
Alley described—Their revels—Orange toast, never before published—The
aldermen throw Mr. M‘Mahon, an apothecary, out of a window for
striking the bust of King William—New association—Anecdotes of Sir
John Bourke and Sir Francis Gould—The Pope’s bull of absolution to Sir
Francis—Its delivery suspended till he had taken away his landlady’s
daughter—His death.
Orange societies, as they are termed, were first formed by the
Protestants to oppose and counteract the turbulent demonstrations of the
Catholics, who formed the population of the south of Ireland. But at
their commencement, the Orangemen certainly adopted a principle of
interference which was not confined to religious points alone, but went
to put down _all_ popular insurrections which might arise on any point.
The term, _Protestant ascendancy_, was coined by Mr. John Gifford (of
whom more hereafter), and became an epithet very fatal to the peace of
Ireland. Many associations indeed were, from time to time, originated:
some for _reform_, others to oppose it; some for _toleration_, others
for intolerance! There were good men and loyal subjects among the
members of each; including many who never entertained the most distant
idea of those disastrous results to be apprehended, at the feverish
period preceding the rebellion of 1798, from any encouragement to
innovation.
I followed up the principles my family had invariably pursued from their
first settlement in Ireland; namely, an attachment divided between the
crown and the people. In the year 1795, I saw that the people were
likely to grow too strong for the crown; and therefore became at once,
not indeed an _ultra_—but one in whom loyalty absorbed almost every
other consideration. I willingly united in every effort to check the
rising spirit of popular disaffection—the dreadful results of which were
manifested in the atrocities acting throughout France, and in the
tottering state of the crowns of Europe.
I had been previously initiated by my friend, Doctor Duigenan, judge of
the Prerogative Court, into a very curious but most loyal society,
whereof he was grand-master at the time of my election; and as this club
differed essentially from any other in the empire, it may be amusing to
describe it—a labour which nobody has hitherto, I believe, undertaken.
This curious assemblage was called “The Aldermen of Skinners’ Alley:” it
was the first Orange association ever formed; and having, at the period
I allude to, existed a full century in pristine vigour, it had acquired
considerable local influence and importance. Its origin was as
follows:—After William the Third had mounted the English throne, and
King James had assumed the reins of government in Ireland, the latter
monarch annulled the then existing charter of the Dublin corporation,
dismissed all the aldermen who had espoused the revolutionary cause, and
replaced them by others attached to himself. In doing this he was
certainly justifiable:—the deposed aldermen, however, had secreted some
little articles of their paraphernalia, and privately assembled in an
alehouse in Skinners’ Alley, a very obscure part of the capital: here
they continued to hold Anti-Jacobite meetings; elected their own lord
mayor and officers; and got a marble bust of King William, which they
regarded as a sort of deity! These meetings were carried on till the
battle of the Boyne put William in possession of Dublin, when King
James’s aldermen were immediately cashiered, and _the Aldermen of
Skinners’ Alley_ reinvested with their mace and aldermanic glories.
To honour the memory of their restorer, therefore, a permanent
association was formed, and invested with all the memorials of their
former disgrace and latter reinstatement. This organization, constituted
near a century before, remained, I fancy, quite unaltered at the time I
became a member. To make the general influence of this association the
greater, the number of members was unlimited, and the mode of admission
solely by the proposal and seconding of tried _aldermen_. For the same
reason, no class, however humble, was excluded—equality reigning in its
most perfect state at the assemblies. Generals and wig-makers—king’s
counsel and hackney clerks, &c. all mingled without distinction as
brother-aldermen:—a lord mayor was annually appointed; and regularity
and decorum always prevailed—until, at least, toward the _conclusion_ of
the meetings, when the aldermen became more than usually noisy and
exhilarated,—King William’s bust being placed in the centre of the
supper-table, to overlook their extreme loyalty. The times of meeting
were monthly; and every member paid sixpence per month, which sum
(allowing for the absentees) afforded plenty of eatables, porter and
punch, for the supping aldermen.
Their charter-dish was _sheeps’ trotters_ (in allusion to King James’s
running away from Dublin):—rum-punch in blue jugs, whisky-punch in white
ones, and _porter_ in its _pewter_, were scattered plentifully over the
table; and all regular formalities being gone through, the eating part
of the ceremony ended, and numerous speeches made, the real _business_
began by a general chorus of “God save the King!” whereupon the grand
engine, which, as a loyal and facetious shoemaker observed, would _bind_
every _sole_ of them together, and commemorate them _all_ till the end
of time, was set at work by order of the _lord mayor_. This engine was
the charter-toast, always given with nine times nine! and duly succeeded
by vociferous acclamations.
The 1st of July (anniversary of the battle of the Boyne) was the
chartered night of assembly: then every man unbuttoned the knees of his
breeches, and drank the toast on his bare joints—it being pronounced by
_his lordship_ in the following words, composed expressly for the
purpose in the year 1689; afterward adopted by the Orange societies
generally; and still, I believe, considered as the charter-toast of them
all.