My contest for Dublin city—Supported by Grattan, Ponsonby, Plunkett, and
Curran—Singularity of a canvass for Dublin—The election—Curious
incidents—Grattan’s famous philippic, never before published—Memoirs
of Mr. John Giffard, called the “dog in office”—Horish the
chimney-sweeper’s bon-mot.
In 1803, I had become particularly popular in Dublin. I was not at
enmity with any sect or party. The losses and deprivations which the
citizens of Dublin were suffering in consequence of the Union, brought
to their recollection the fact of my having been one of its most zealous
opponents. They knew that I had entertained professional ambition; and
they also knew that, in order to oppose that measure, and support the
independence of the nation as well as my own, I had with open eyes
sacrificed all the objects of my ambition;—that I had refused the most
gratifying proposals; and, in maintenance of principle, had set my face
decidedly against the measures of that government which I had on other
occasions supported, and which alone possessed the power to advance me.
They knew that I had braved the animosity of Chancellor Clare, whom few
had ever ventured to oppose so decidedly as myself; and that I had
utterly renounced Lord Castlereagh, by whom all means were employed to
attach me. In fact, the citizens of Dublin recollected that I had
abandoned _every_ prospect in life to uphold their interest;[50] and
consequently many persons on both sides of politics had proposed to me
to become a candidate for the representation of the metropolis in
Parliament. Some entire corporations voted me their freedom and support;
and a great number of the freeholders tendered me their aid. Having, in
addition, an extensive personal interest of my own, I at length
determined to stand the contest.
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Footnote 50:
This observation is fully verified. I anticipated the consequences of
an _imperium in imperio_, which the Union inevitably produced; and
which always evades the claims and advancement of bold, independent
men, preferring those who have more pliability, _discretion_, and
tact, for the management of second-hand rulers and authorities.
-----
Persons of the first weight and rank came forward in my favour; and
among these I am proud to enumerate—His Grace the Duke of Leinster, Mr.
Grattan, Mr. George Ponsonby, Mr. Curran, Mr. Plunkett, many of the most
respectable members of my own profession, and numerous private
gentlemen. Indeed, the mode in which I was brought forward, and the
parties by whom I was encouraged, could not but gratify me highly.
The city, however, immediately divided into two inveterate factions,—one
of which declared for Mr. Beresford, the banker, and Mr. Ogle, the
Orange chieftain; whilst the other supported Mr. Latouche and myself. A
fifth gentleman, Sir John Jervoise White Jervoise, Bart., also announced
himself a candidate, on the strength of his own personal connexions and
individual property in the city, backed by any second votes he could
pick up amongst the rest.
Dublin differs from London in this respect—inasmuch as there must be an
_individual_ canvass, requiring hard labour of at least two months or
ten weeks, by day and by night, to get through it cleverly. One custom
alone takes up an immensity of time, which, though I believe it never
existed any where else, has the semblance of good sense to recommend it.
The grand corporation of Dublin comprises twenty-five minor corporations
or trades, each independent of the other; and all (knowing their own
importance previous to an election, and their insignificance after it is
over) affect the state and authority of a Venetian senate, and say
(shrewdly enough), “How can we, ignorant men! tell who is fittest to
represent Dublin till we have an opportunity of knowing their
abilities?” And for the purpose of acquiring this knowledge, each
corporation appoints a day to receive the candidates in due formality in
its hall; and each candidate is then called on to make an oration, in
order to give the electors power of judging as to his capability to
speak in parliament. So that, in the progress of his canvass, every
candidate must make twenty-four or twenty-six speeches in his best
style! Nothing can be more amusing than the gravity and decorum,
wherewith the journeymen barbers,[51] hosiers, skinners, cooks, &c. &c.
receive the candidates, listen to their fine florid harangues, and then
begin to debate amongst themselves as to their comparative merits; and,
in truth, assume as much importance as the diplomatists at Vienna, with
intentions to the full as wholesome.
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Footnote 51:
These gentry, not many years since, addressed the Duke of York as “the
corporation of surgeons,”—i. e. _barber-surgeons_. The address was
replied to without its being known that they were only shavers and
wig-makers!
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However, I got through my canvass of nearly three months, and remained
tolerably in my senses at the conclusion of it: though, most
undoubtedly, I drank as much porter and whisky with the electors
themselves, and as much tea and cherry-brandy with their wives, as would
have ended my days on any other occasion. But I loved the people of
Dublin; I had lived more than thirty years among them; was upon good
terms with all parties and societies; and, if elected, I should have
been a very faithful, and I trust, an effective representative.
The humours of an Irish canvass can only be known to those who have
witnessed them; and, I believe, no election, even in Ireland, ever gave
rise to more of what is termed real _fun_. Most of the incidents are too
trivial and too local for detail: but there were some so ludicrous,
that, even at this moment, I can scarce refrain from laughing at their
recollection.
Never was a business of the kind conducted with more spirit; and, at the
same time, a degree of good temper prevailed, not to have been expected
in a contest which called into play the most fiery and rancorous party
feelings; and the genuine stream of humour that steadily flowed on, had
a great effect in washing away any marks of ill-blood.
It is with pride I relate that the four voters who formed my first tally
were, Mr. George Ponsonby[52] (afterward lord chancellor), Mr. Henry
Grattan, Mr. William Plunkett (the present attorney-general), and Mr.
John Philpott Curran (afterward master of the rolls); and that the two
former accompanied their votes by far more than merited eulogiums. No
candidate on any election in Ireland ever yet exhibited so talented a
tally.
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Footnote 52:
“My reason,” said Mr. Ponsonby, on the hustings, “for proposing Mr.
Barrington for the representation of the city of Dublin is—that I have
known him as my _friend_, and I have known him as my _enemy_; and, in
either character, have found him ‘an _honest man_.’”
-----
I lost the election: but I polled to the end of the fifteen days, and
the last tally; and had the gratification of thinking that I broke the
knot of a virulent ascendancy, was the means of Mr. Latouche’s success,
and likewise of Mr. Grattan’s subsequent return.
In the course of that election many curious incidents occurred; and as
every thing which relates to Mr. Grattan, and tends to elucidate the
character and peculiarities of that most pure and eminent of my
countrymen, must necessarily be interesting (anecdotes, which, as
cotemporaries are dropping fast around me, would, if not now recorded,
be lost for ever,)—I feel myself justified in detailing a few, though in
themselves of no particular importance.
In the days of unsophisticated patriotism, when the very name of Grattan
operated as a spell to rouse the energies and spirit of his
country;—when the schisms of party bigotry had yielded to the common
weal, and public men were sure to obtain that public gratitude they
merited;—the corporation of Dublin (in some lucid interval of the
sottish malady which has ever distinguished that inconsiderate and
intemperate body) obtained a full-length portrait of Henry Grattan, then
termed their great deliverer. His name graced their corporate rolls as
an hereditary freeman,[53] when the jealous malice of that rancorous and
persevering enemy of every man opposed to him, the Earl of Clare, in a
secret committee of the House of Lords, introduced into their report
some lines of a deposition by one Hughes (a rebel who had been made a
witness, and was induced to coin evidence to save his own life),
detailing a conversation which he alleged himself to have had with Mr.
Grattan, wherein the latter had owned that he was a United Irishman.
Every body knew the total falsity of this. Indeed, Mr. Grattan was, on
the other hand, a man whose principles had been on certain occasions
considered too aristocratic; and yet he was now denounced, in the slang
of the lord chancellor, “an _infernal democrat_!” The corporation of
Dublin caught the sound, and, without one atom of inquiry, tore down
from their walls the portrait which had done _them_ so much honour, and
unceremoniously expelled Mr. Grattan from the corporation without trial
or even notice; thus proclaiming one of the most loyal and
constitutional subjects of the British empire to be a rebel and
incendiary. He despised and took no notice of their extravagance, but
nevertheless sorely felt their ingratitude.
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Footnote 53:
Mr. Grattan’s father had been recorder of Dublin and representative in
parliament for that city.
-----
On the election in question, I was proposed by Mr. George Ponsonby; and
upon Mr. Grattan rising next to vote upon my tally, he was immediately
objected to as having been expelled on the report of Lord Clare’s
committee. A burst of indignation on the one side, and of boisterous
declamation on the other, forthwith succeeded. It was of an alarming
nature: Grattan meanwhile standing silent, and regarding, with a smile
of the most ineffable contempt ever expressed, his shameless accusers.
The objection was made by Mr. John Giffard—of whom hereafter. On the
first intermission of the tumult, with a calm and dignified air, but in
that energetic style and tone so peculiar to himself, Mr. Grattan
delivered the following memorable words—memorable, because conveying in
a few short sentences the most overwhelming, although certainly
hyperbolical philippic—the most irresistible assemblage of terms
imputing public depravity, that the English, or, I believe, any other
language, is capable of affording:—
“Mr. Sheriff, when I observe the quarter from whence the objection
comes, I am not surprised at him who made it;—the hired traducer of his
country—the excommunicated of his fellow-citizens—the regal rebel—the
unpunished ruffian—the bigotted agitator!—In the city a firebrand—in the
court a liar—in the streets a bully—in the field a coward!—And so
obnoxious is he to the very party he wishes to espouse, that he is only
supportable by doing those dirty acts the less vile refuse to execute!”
Giffard, thunderstruck, lost his usual assurance; and replied, in one
single sentence, “I would _spit_ upon him in a desert!”—which vapid
exclamation was his sole retort!
I called for the roll, and, on inspection, the form of erasing Mr.
Grattan’s name appeared to have been omitted. Of course, the objection
was overruled,—my friend voted, and his triumph was complete.
The erasure of his name from the roll was never afterward attempted;
and, on the dissolution of that parliament, he was requested by the very
same body to stand forward as their “most illustrious countryman!” and
elected by acclamation in that very same court-house, as the
representative of the city and corporation which had so recently
endeavoured to debase and destroy him; his chairing being attended with
enthusiasm by those who some time before would with equal zeal have
attended his execution. Never was there exhibited a more complete proof
of causeless popular versatility; which, indeed, was repeatedly
practised on that _genuine_ patriot.—It totally disgusted me;—and for
ever banished from my mind the charm of _vulgar popularity_, which
envelopes _patriots_ only to render their fall the more conspicuous. If
a public character acts conscientiously, the less he _seeks_ for
popularity the more certainly he will _acquire_ it, and the longer it
will adhere to him.
Mr. John Giffard, the subject of the foregoing philippic, was a very
remarkable person. He had a great deal of vulgar talent; a daring
impetuosity; and was wholly indifferent to public opinion. From first to
last he fought his way through the world; and finally worked himself up
to be the most sturdy partisan I ever recollect in the train of
government. His detestation of the Pope and his adoration of King
William he carried to an excess quite ridiculous; in fact, on both
subjects he seemed occasionally delirious. His life had many curious
incidents connected with it; and as it would be wrong that a name so
frequently occurring in the local history of Ireland should remain
unnoticed, I have, therefore, in these fragments introduced it.
I did not agree with Mr. Grattan as to the epithets wherewith he
honoured the captain. “A coward” he most certainly was not; and, with
all his faults, he had several qualities which in social intercourse are
highly valuable; and, hence, it is just to make a clear distinction
between his private and his public character. He was as sincere,
warm-hearted, and friendly a person as I ever met with; and, on the
other hand, a bitterer enemy never existed: I do not think he ever was
_mine_, and I certainly never was _his_: indeed, I had a very great
regard for him in private, and sometimes in public—even against myself,
because I found him _sincere_. Our first difference arose on that
election, but never proceeded to any degree of hostility.
Giffard was originally an apothecary. When I was at the Dublin
University, the students were wild and lawless:—any offence to one was
considered as an offence to all; and as the elder sons of most men of
rank and fortune in Ireland were then educated in Dublin College, it was
dangerous to meddle with so powerful a set of students, who consequently
did precisely what they chose (outside the college-gates). If they
conceived offence against any body, the collegians made no scruple of
bringing the offender into the court, and pumping him well; and their
unanimity and numbers were so great, that it was quite impossible any
youth could be selected for punishment. In my time, we used to break
open what houses we pleased!—regularly beating the watch every night,
except in one parish, which we always kept in pay, to lend us their
poles wherewith to fight the others! In short, our conduct was
outrageous; and the first check we ever received was from Giffard, who
was a director of the watch, and resided close to the Parliament-house.
He having in some way annoyed the collegians, they determined to pump
Giffard; but they reckoned without their host! He entrenched himself in
his house, which we assailed, breaking all his windows. He gave repeated
warnings to no purpose; and a new assault being commenced, Giffard fired
a pistol, and a collegian was wounded in the wrist, whereupon the
assailants immediately raised the siege.
It was a lucky shot for Giffard, who immediately obtained some parochial
office for his firmness;—made himself of importance on every trifling
subject; and harangued constantly in the vestry. Of his subsequent
progress I know nothing till about the year 1790, when I became a public
character, and found Giffard an _attaché_ to the Castle in divers
capacities. He was afterward placed in the revenue department, became a
common-councilman, and at length high sheriff; at which epoch he
acquired the title which forsook him not, of “_The Dog in Office_,”
though wherefore, I could never rightly make out. His acts from that
period became part of the general statistical history of Irish politics.
One of his sons was butchered in cool blood by the rebels at Kildare,
which naturally increased the ferocity of the father. His eldest son,
Harding Giffard, and Mr. Croker of the Admiralty, married two sisters in
Waterford. Mr. Croker’s good luck enabled him to aid his relative, who,
having tried the Irish bar in vain for several years, has become chief
justice of Ceylon:—Mr. Croker himself (after _his_ unsuccessful
professional essay) being casually indebted to several persons of
celebrity for his very rapid elevation.
During the election we are speaking of, one Horish, a master
chimney-sweeper, appeared on the hustings. This man, being known to have
several votes at command besides his own, had been strongly canvassed,
but would promise none of the candidates, or give the least hint how he
intended to vote.
During the rebellion of 1798, Mr. John Beresford (one of the candidates)
had built a riding-house for his yeomanry troop in Marlborough Green,
which had been also much used as a place for whipping _suspected_
persons in, to make them _discover_ what in all probability they _never
knew_;—a practice equally just and humane, and liberally resorted to
(perhaps for sport) by military officers, pending that troublous era,
when martial law authorised every species of cruelty.
In Mr. Beresford’s riding-house this infernal system was carried on to a
greater extent than in any other place of execution then tolerated in
the metropolis:—to such an extent, indeed, that some Irish wags (who
never fail even upon the most melancholy occasions to exercise their
native humour) had one night the words, “Mangling done here by J.
Beresford and Co.” painted upon a sign-board, and fixed over the
entrance.
It happened that this same Horish had been among those who had paid to
their king and country a full share of skin for the crime of being
anonymously suspected. He had not forgotten the couple of hundred lashes
on his bare carcase which he had received in Mr. Beresford’s
riding-house: but the circumstance (being of such an ordinary nature)
was, of course, totally forgotten by the candidate, notwithstanding the
tenacious sensation of the elector’s loins, where many a good thick welt
remained to remind him of the pastime.
Horish, a coarse, rough-looking, strong-built, independent, and at the
moment well-dressed brute of a fellow, remained quite coquettish as to
his votes. “Let me see!” said he, feeling his importance, and unwilling
to part with it, (which would be the case the moment he had polled,) and
looking earnestly at all the candidates,—“Let me see! who shall I vote
for?—I’m very hard to please, gentlemen, I assure you!” He hesitated: we
all pressed:—“Fair and easy, gentlemen,” said Horish, looking at each of
us again, “don’t hurry a man!”
“Barrington,” cried impatient Beresford, “I know that honest fellow
Horish will vote for me!” Horish stared, but said nothing.
“Indeed he will not,” replied I,—“eh, Horish?” Horish looked, but
remained silent.
“I’ll lay you a _rump and dozen_,” exclaimed Beresford, “on the matter!”
Horish now started into a sort of animation, but coolly replied:—“You’ll
lose that same rump and dozen, Mr. Beresford! ’twas many a _dozen_ you
gave my _r—p_ already in your riding-house, and to the devil I bob that
kind of entertainment! but if ever I have the honour of meeting you up a
chimney, depend on it, Mr. Beresford, I’ll treat you with all the
_civility_ imaginable!—Come, boys, we’ll poll away for the counsellor!”
and, under Horish’s influence, I was supported by every chimney-sweeper
in the city of Dublin (and there were many) who had a vote. I think he
brought me near twenty voters of one species or another.