Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s contest for County Wexford, omitted by
all his pseudo-biographers—Duel of Mr. Alcock and Mr. Colclough
(candidates), on a question respecting Mr. Sheridan’s poll—Colclough
killed—A lamentable incident—Mr. Alcock’s trial—He afterward goes mad
and dies—His sister, Miss Alcock, also dies lunatic in
consequence—Marquess of Ely tried for an outrage at Wexford, and
fined.
It is to be lamented that the biographers and eulogists of Richard
Brinsley Sheridan should have suppressed some of the most creditable
incidents of his variegated life, while his memory is disgraced by
pretended friends and literary admirers.
These writers have raked up from his ashes, and exposed to public
indignation, every failing of that great and gifted man:—so that, if
their own productions were by any chance to become permanent, they would
send him down to posterity as a witty, but low and dissipated _sharper_;
or, in their very best colouring, as the most talented of mean and
worthless mendicants. But Sheridan’s reputation will outlive all such
attempts to obliterate it; while the ignorance of his libellers is
conspicuous from their entire omission of some of the most interesting
events of his career, at the same time that others are vouched for,
which to my individual knowledge are gross misrepresentations.
Among the incidents that have been overlooked is one both extraordinary
and melancholy, and forming an honourable comment on Mr. Sheridan’s
public character. I was myself interested in the transaction;—and can
give it on my own responsibility. I am, indeed, most anxious to rescue
his memory from the rough hands which, in sketching their subject, have
placed the mane of the lion upon the shoulders of a mountebank.
In speaking thus, I deeply regret that one of these biographers should
be a man whom I esteem; and I regret it the more, since he has used poor
Sheridan as a chopping-block, whereon to hack the character of the most
illustrious person of the British empire, who (for the first time in his
life, I believe) has been accused of _pecuniary illiberality_. A
circumstance accidentally came to my knowledge to _prove_ that charge
the very reverse of truth. But an opportunity will be taken by me of
observing still more explicitly on these _friends_ of Mr. Sheridan.
At the general election of 1807, Mr. John Colclough, of Tintern Abbey,
County Wexford, a near relative of mine, (and _locum tenens_ of his
elder-brother, Mr. Cæsar Colclough, who had been long resident on the
continent,) declared himself for the second time candidate for Wexford
county, which he had represented in the previous parliament. The
Colclough estates were large, the freeholders thereon numerous, and
devoted to the interest of their patriotic leader, whose uncle, Mr. John
Grogan, of Johnstown Castle (also a relative of mine), possessed of a
very large fortune and extensive tenantry, had united with his nephew
and other most respectable and independent gentlemen of that county, to
liberate its representation from the trammels of certain noblemen who
had for many years usurped its domination. Mr. Colclough was determined
to put the pride, spirit, and patriotism of the county to proof; and
therefore, in the progress of the business, proposed Mr. Richard
Brinsley Sheridan as joint-candidate with himself, declaring that he was
authorised by the independent freeholders of the county to say, that
they should feel the greatest gratification in being represented by so
distinguished an ornament to the name of Irishman.
Mr. Colclough and Mr. Sheridan were therefore nominated on the one hand;
and Mr. Alcock, supported by the interest of the influenced electors, on
the other.
Never yet was any poll conducted by more resolute, active, and zealous
partisans; but it is lamentable to add that they were equally
intemperate as zealous. The _ignis fatuus_ of _patriotism_ had caught
the mass of the population; tenants no longer obeyed the dictates of
their absent landlords nor the menaces of tyrannic agents: no man could
count on the votes of his former vassals. The hustings was thronged with
crowds of tenantry, constitutionally breaking away from their shackles,
and voting according to their principles of free agency for Sheridan,—a
man known to them only by the celebrity of his talents. The poll
proceeded:—the independent party was advancing fast to success; and had
the election continued, there is little doubt that Mr. Sheridan would
have been a representative for Wexford county. At this crisis occurred
one of the most unfortunate and melancholy events on Irish record, and
by which the contest was terminated—as if the untoward destiny of
Sheridan withered every thing with which he came in contact.
Several tenants of a person who had given his interest to Mr. Alcock
absolutely refused to vote for that gentleman, declaring that, at every
risk, they would support Colclough and “the great Sheridan!” Mr.
Alcock’s partisans perverted the free agency of these men into seduction
on the part of Mr. Colclough: hence a feeling decidedly hostile was
excited; the fierce zeal and frenzy of election partisanship burst into
a flame; and Mr. Colclough was required to decline such votes, or to
receive them at his peril.
Of course he disregarded this outrageous threat, and open war ensued.
One party lost sight of reason;—both, of humanity; and it was
determined, that before the opening of next morning’s poll, the
candidates should decide, by single combat, the contested question, and
(of course) the election itself. With what indignation and horror must
such a resolution, at once assailing law, good morals, and decency, be
now regarded! and how will the feeling of surprise increase from its
being passed over with impunity!
Early on the eventful morning many hundred people assembled to witness
the affair; and it will scarcely be believed that no less than eleven or
twelve _county magistrates_ stood by, passive spectators of the bloody
scene which followed, without an effort, or apparently a wish, to stop
the proceeding.
Both combatants were remarkably near-sighted; and Mr. Alcock determined
on wearing glasses, which was resisted by the friends of Mr. Colclough,
who would wear none.—The partisans of the former, however, persevered,
and he did wear them. The ground at length was marked; the anxious crowd
separated on either side, as their party feelings led them; but all
seemed to feel a common sense of horror and repugnance. The unfeeling
seconds handed to each principal a couple of pistols; and placing them
about eight or nine steps asunder, withdrew, leaving two gentlemen of
fortune and character—brother-candidates for the county—and former
friends, nay, _intimate companions_,—standing in the centre of a field,
without any _personal_ offence given or received, encouraged by false
friends, and permitted by unworthy magistrates, to butcher each other as
quickly and as effectually as their position and weapons would admit.
The sight was awful!—a dead silence and pause ensued: the great crowd
stood in motionless suspense: the combatants presented: men scarcely
breathed: the word was given: Mr. Alcock fired first, and his friend—his
companion—one of the best men of Ireland, instantly fell forward, shot
through the heart! he spoke not—but turning on one side, his heart’s
blood gushed forth—his limbs quivered—he groaned, and expired. His
pistol exploded after he was struck—of course without effect.
The bystanders looked almost petrified. The profound stillness continued
for a moment, horror having seized the multitude, when, on the sudden, a
loud and universal yell (the ancient practice of the Irish peasantry on
the death of a chieftain) simultaneously burst out like a peal of
thunder from every quarter of the field; a yell so savage and
continuous—so like the tone of _revenge_,—that it would have appalled
any stranger to the customs of the country. Alcock and his partisans
immediately retreated; those of Colclough collected round his body; and
their candidate (a few moments before in health, spirits, and vigour!)
was mournfully borne back upon a plank to the town of his nativity, and
carried lifeless through those very streets which had that morning been
prepared to signalise his triumph.
The election-poll, of course, proceeded without further opposition:—the
joint friends of Colclough and Sheridan, deprived of their support, and
thunderstruck at the event, thought of nothing but lamentation; and in
one hour Mr. Alcock was declared duly elected for Wexford county, solely
through the death of his brother-candidate, whom he had himself that
morning unjustly immolated.
A more wanton duel, a more unnecessary, cruel, and in all points illegal
transaction, never occurred in the United Empire: yet, strange to say,
of those eleven or twelve magistrates who actually stood by, as amateurs
or partisans, in defiance of the law and of their duty,—not one was
displaced or punished!—a precedent of impunity most discreditable to the
high authorities of that day, dangerous to the peace of the country, and
subversive of the first principles of free election. Judge of Sheridan’s
feelings on receiving this intelligence! and judge of the correctness of
his biographers, who have suppressed the incident altogether.
Nor was poor Colclough’s death the last act of the tragedy. His friends
thought themselves called on to prosecute Mr. Alcock, who fled, but
subsequently returned and surrendered for trial. I attended, as special
counsel for the prosecution. Baron Smith tried the cause. The evidence
was stronger than I have deemed it necessary to recite. The baron stated
his opinion on the legal distinctions as applicable to duelling, and on
that opinion the bar differed. It was not the wish of the prosecutors to
do more than mark the transaction by a _conviction_ for _manslaughter_,
which the law, under the circumstances, seemed to render imperative.
However, the then politics of Wexford juries differed not unfrequently
both from the laws of God and the statute book; and the verdict returned
in this instance was, to the surprise of every one, a _general
acquittal_!
But, alas! the acquitted duellist suffered more in mind than his victim
had done in body. The horror of the scene, and the solemnity of the
trial, combined to make a fatal inroad on his reason! He became
melancholy; his understanding gradually declined; a dark gloom enveloped
his entire intellect; and an excellent young man and perfect gentleman
at length sank into irrecoverable imbecility. Goaded by the vicious
frenzy of election partisans, he had slain his friend; and, haunted by
reflection and sorrow, he ended his own days in personal restraint and
mental ruin.
Two other duels were fought upon the same occasion, but with little
injury and still less interest. Mr. Cæsar Colclough has since returned
from the continent; and, on the strength of his late brother’s
popularity, was elected member for County Wexford. He has not, however,
followed up the high reputation of that brother; nor very satisfactorily
fulfilled the expectations of his constituents.
But to this sanguinary and fatal duel there was yet another sad
corollary. Miss Alcock, sister of the member, had been most deeply
affected by the mournful catastrophe. She had known Colclough long and
intimately; and being an amiable and sensitive young woman,—her
brother’s absence, his trial, and his subsequent depression, kept the
gloomy transaction alive in her mind: hence she also gradually wasted;
and the death of her brother sinking deeper and deeper into a heart, all
the sources of tranquillity whereof had been dried up,—_her_ reason
wandered, at length fled, and she did not long survive the dreadful fate
of her friend and of her brother.
A trivial anecdote will suffice to exhibit the general state of Wexford
county, and of the aristocracy and magistracy, many of whom were a
disgrace to their office, and completely filled up Mr. Grattan’s
definition of a “regal rebel” by their arrogance, tyranny, oppression,
and disaffection. By these men the peasantry were goaded into a belief
that justice was banished, and so driven into the arms of the avowed
rebels, who used every lure to enforce their previous delusion.
A handsome young woman, maid-servant to a Mrs. Lett, who was considered
as a great _patriot_ (rebel) in Wexford, happened one summer’s evening
to sit at her mistress’s window singing songs, but to certain airs that
were not considered orthodox by the aristocracy.
The present Marquess of Ely, with the high sheriff and other gentlemen
of the county, were retiring after their wine from the grand-jury, and
heard this unfortunate young siren warbling at the window: but as the
song sounded to their loyal ears of a rebellious tendency, it was
thought advisable to demolish the fragile parts of Mrs. Lett’s
house-front without delay; and, accordingly, my lord, the high sheriff,
and their friends (to preserve the peace and protect the constitution
from such traitorous maid-servants), forthwith commenced their laudable
undertaking; and stones being the weapons nearest at hand, the windows
and the warbling maid received a broadside, which was of the greatest
utility to the glazier, and had well-nigh put fees into the pockets, not
only of the surgeon, but of the sexton and coroner likewise.
However, on this occasion, justice was not so far off as the peasants
had been persuaded: my lord, the high sheriff, and others, being
indicted and tried, I had the honour of being his lordship’s counsel;
and as our duty was to make “the worse appear the better _cause_,” I
certainly did my utmost for the marquess:—but his lordship, conceiving
my delicacy to the maid-servant rather too great, requested permission
to ask her a few questions himself, which was granted.
“Now, girl,” said the marquess, “by the oath you have taken, did you not
say you would _split my skull open_?”
“Why, then, by the virtue of my oath,” said the girl, turning to the
judge, “it would not be _worth my while_ to split his skull open, my
lord!”
“Ha! ha!” said the marquess, “now I have her!” (wisely supposing she
made some allusion to a _reward_ for killing him:) “and _why_, girl,
would it be not worth your while?”
“Because, my lord,” answered she, “if I had split your lordship’s skull
open,—by virtue of my oath, I am sure and certain I should have found
little or nothing inside of it!”
The laugh against the noble marquess was now too great to admit of his
proceeding any further with his cross-examination: he was found guilty,
and fined.