Lord Aldborough quizzes the Lord Chancellor—Voted a libeller by the
House of Peers—His spirited conduct—Sentenced to imprisonment in
Newgate by the Court of King’s Bench—Memoirs of Mr. Knaresborough—His
extraordinary trial—Sentenced to death, but transported—Escapes from
Botany Bay, returns to England, and is committed to Newgate, where he
seduces Lady Aldborough’s attendant—Prizes in the lottery—Miss Barton
dies in misery.
Lord Aldborough was an arrogant and ostentatious man; but these failings
were nearly redeemed by his firmness and gallantry in his memorable
collision with Lord Chancellor Clare.
Lord Aldborough, who had built a most tasteful and handsome house
immediately at the northern extremity of Dublin, had an equity suit with
Mr. Beresford, a nephew of Lord Clare, as to certain lots of ground
close to his lordship’s new and magnificent mansion, which, among other
conveniences, had a chapel on one wing and a theatre on the other,
stretching away from the centre in a chaste style of ornamental
architecture.
The cause was in Chancery, and was not protracted very long. Lord
Aldborough was defeated, with full costs: his pride, his purse, and his
mansion, must all suffer; and meddling with either of these was
sufficient to rouse his lordship’s spleen. He appealed, therefore, to
the House of Peers, where, in due season, the cause came on for hearing,
and where the chancellor himself presided. The lay lords did not much
care to interfere in the matter; and, without loss of time, Lord Clare
of the House of Peers confirmed the decree of Lord Clare of the Court of
Chancery, with full costs against the appellant.
Lord Aldborough had now no redress but to write _at_ the lord
chancellor; and without delay he fell to composing a book against Lord
Clare and the system of appellant jurisdiction, stating that it was
totally an abuse of justice to be obliged to appeal to a prejudiced man
against his own prejudices,—and particularly so in the present instance,
Lord Clare being notorious as an unforgiving chancellor to those who
vexed him: few lords attending to hear the cause, and such as did not
being much wiser for the hearing:—it being the province of counsel to
puzzle not to inform noblemen, he had no chance.
Lord Aldborough, in his book, humorously enough stated an occurrence
that had happened to himself when travelling in Holland. His lordship
was going to Amsterdam on one of the canals in a trekschuit—the captain
or skipper of which, being a great rogue, extorted from his lordship for
his passage much more than he had a lawful right to claim. My lord
expostulated with the skipper in vain: the fellow grew rude; his
lordship persisted; the skipper got more abusive. At length Lord
Aldborough told him he would, on landing, immediately go to the proper
tribunals and get redress from the judge. The skipper cursed him as an
impudent _milord_, and desired him to do his worst, snapping his tarry
_finger-posts_ in his lordship’s face. Lord Aldborough paid the demand,
and, on landing, went to the legal officer to know when the court of
justice would sit. He was answered, at nine next morning. Having no
doubt of ample redress, he did not choose to put the skipper on his
guard by mentioning his intentions. Next morning he went to court, and
began to tell his story to the judge, who sat with his broad-brimmed hat
on, in great state, to hear causes of that nature. His lordship fancied
he had seen the man before; nor was he long in doubt! for ere he had
half finished, the judge, in a voice like thunder, (but which his
lordship immediately recognised, for it was that of the identical
skipper!) decided against him _with full costs_, and ordered him out of
court. His lordship, however, said he would _appeal_, and away he went
to an advocate for that purpose. He did accordingly appeal, and the next
day his appeal cause came regularly on. But all his lordship’s stoicism
forsook him, when he again perceived that the very same skipper and
judge was to decide _the appeal_ who had decided _the cause_; so that
the learned skipper first cheated, and then sent him about his business,
with three sets of _costs_ to console him.
The noble writer having in his book made a very improper and derogatory
application of this Dutch precedent to Lord Chancellor Clare and the
Irish appellant jurisdiction, was considered by his brother peers as
having committed a gross breach of their privileges, and was thereupon
ordered to attend in his place, and defend himself (if any defence he
had) from the charge made against him by the lord chancellor and the
peers of Ireland. Of course the House of Lords was thronged to excess to
hear his lordship’s vindication. I went an hour before it met, to secure
a place behind the throne, where the commoners were allowed to crowd up
as well as they could.
The chancellor, holding the vicious book in his hand, asked Lord
Aldborough if he admitted that it was of his writing and publication? To
which his lordship replied,—that he could admit nothing as written or
published by him, till every word of it should be first truly read to
their lordships aloud in the House. Lord Clare, wishing to curtail some
parts, began to read it himself; but being rather short, and not quite
near enough to the light, his opponent took a pair of enormous
candlesticks from the table, walked deliberately up to the throne, and
requested the chancellor’s permission to hold the candles for him whilst
he was reading the book! This novel sort of effrontery put the
chancellor completely off his guard: he was outdone, and permitted Lord
Aldborough to hold the lights, whilst he read aloud the libel comparing
himself to a Dutch skipper: nor did the obsequious author omit to set
him right here and there when he omitted a word or proper emphasis. It
was ludicrous beyond example, and gratifying to the secret ill-wishers
of Lord Clare, who bore no small proportion to the aggregate numbers of
the House. The libel being duly read through, Lord Aldborough at once
spiritedly and adroitly said that he avowed every word of it to their
lordships;—but that it was not intended as any _libel_ either against
the House or the jurisdiction, but as a constitutional and just rebuke
to their lordships for not performing their bounden duty in attending
the hearing of the appeal: he being quite certain that if any sensible
men had been present, the lord chancellor would only have had two lords
and two bishops (of his own creation) on his side of the question.
This was considered as an aggravation of the contempt, though some
thought it was not very far from matter-of-fact.—The result was, that
after a bold speech, delivered with great earnestness, his lordship was
voted guilty of a high breach of privilege toward the Irish House of
Peers, and a libel on the lord chancellor, as chairman of the House.
His lordship was afterward ordered to Newgate for six months by the
Court of King’s Bench (on an information filed against him by the
attorney-general for a libel on Lord Clare); which sentence, he told
them, he considered, under the circumstances, as a high compliment and
honour. In fact, he never was so pleased as when speaking of the
incident, and declaring that he expected to have his book recorded on
the Journals of the Lords:—the chancellor himself (by _applying_ his
anecdote of the Dutch skipper) having construed it into a regular
episode on his own proceedings and those of the peerage.
Lord Aldborough underwent his full sentence in Newgate; and his
residence there gave rise to a fresh incident in the memoirs of a very
remarkable person, who, at that time, was an inmate of the same walls
(originally likewise through the _favour_ of Chancellor Clare), and
lodged on the same staircase; and as I had been professionally
interested in this man’s affairs, I subjoin the following statement as
curious, and in every circumstance, to my personal knowledge,
matter-of-fact.
James Fitzpatrick Knaresborough was a young man of tolerable private
fortune in the county of Kilkenny. Unlike the common run of young men at
that day, he was sober, money-making, and even avaricious, though
moderately hospitable; his principal _virtue_ consisting in making no
_exhibition_ of his _vices_. He was of good figure; and, without having
the presence of a gentleman, was what is called a handsome young fellow.
Mr. Knaresborough had been accused of a capital crime by a Miss Barton,
(natural daughter of William Barton, Esq., a magistrate of the county of
Kilkenny,) who stated that she had gone away with him for the purpose,
and in the strict confidence, of being married the same day at Leighlin
Bridge.—Her father was a gentleman, a magistrate, and of consideration
in the county, and a warrant was granted against Knaresborough for the
felony; but he contrived to get liberated on bail—the amount being
doubled. The grand-jury, however, on the young woman’s testimony, found
true bills against him for the capital offence, and he came to Carlow to
take his trial at the assizes. He immediately called on me with a
brief,—said it was a mere _bagatelle_, and totally unfounded,—and that
his acquittal would be a matter of course. I had been retained against
him; but introduced him to the present Judge Moore, to whom he handed
his brief. He made so light of the business, that he told me to get up a
famous speech against him, as no doubt I was instructed to do: that
indeed I could not say too much; as the whole would appear, on _her own
confession_, to be a conspiracy! nay, so confident was he of procuring
his acquittal, that he asked Mr. Moore and myself to dine with him on
our road to Kilkenny, which we promised.
On reading my brief, I found that, truly, the case was not over-strong
against him even there, where, in all probability, circumstances would
be exaggerated; and that it rested almost exclusively on the lady’s own
evidence: hence, I had little doubt that, upon cross-examination, the
prisoner would be acquitted.
The trial proceeded. I was then rather young at the bar, and determined,
for my own sake, to make an interesting and affecting speech for my
client;—and having no doubt of Knaresborough’s acquittal, I certainly
overcharged my statement, and added some _facts_ solely from invention.
My surprise, then, may be estimated, when I heard Miss Barton swear
positively to _every syllable_ of my emblazonment! I should now have
found myself most painfully circumstanced, but that I had no doubt she
_must_ be altogether deprived of credit by his counsel; and, in fact,
she _was_ quite shaken on her cross-examination. The prisoner’s advocate
smiled at her and at us; and said, “the woman’s credit was so clearly
overthrown, that there could be no doubt of Knaresborough’s innocence of
the charge of _violence_; and any protracted defence on so clear a
subject would be useless.”
The court seemed to acquiesce. I considered all was over, and left the
place as the jury retired. In about an hour, however, I received an
account that Knaresborough had been found _guilty_, and sent back to
gaol under sentence of death!—I was thunderstruck, and without delay
wrote to the chief secretary, in Dublin, begging him instantly to
represent to the lord lieutenant the real facts, and that I, as counsel
for the prosecution, knew the total _falsity_ of a great part of her
evidence:—execution was in consequence respited. So soon as I could
return to town, I waited on Major Hobart and the lord lieutenant, stated
precisely the particulars I have here given, and my satisfaction (even
from my own brief) that the girl was perjured. They referred me to Lord
Chancellor Clare, whose answer I wrote down, and never shall forget:
“That may be all very true, Barrington! but he is a rascal, and if he
does not deserve to be hanged for _this_, he does for a _former_
affair,[66] right well!” I told him it was quite necessary for me to
publish the whole matter, in my own justification. He then took from his
bureau a small parcel of papers, and requested me to read them: they
proved to be copies of affidavits and evidence on a former accusation,
(from which Knaresborough had escaped by lenity,) for snapping a pistol
at the father of a girl he had seduced.—Lord Clare, however, recommended
his sentence to be changed to transportation: but this was to the
convict worse than death, and he enclosed to me a petition which he had
sent to government, declining the proposed commutation, and insisting on
being forthwith executed, pursuant to his first sentence!
Notwithstanding, he was, in fine, actually transported. He had contrived
to secure in different ways 10,000_l._, and took a large sum with him to
Botany Bay. I had heard no more of him for several years,—when I was
astonished one day by being accosted in the streets of Dublin by this
identical man, altered only by time and in the colour of his hair, which
had turned quite gray. He was well dressed, had a large cockade in his
hat, and did not at all court secrecy. He told me that the governor had
allowed him to come away privately: that he had gone through many
entertaining and some dismal adventures in Africa, and in America—whence
he last came; and he added, that as government were then busy raising
troops, he had sent in a memorial, proposing to raise a regiment for a
distant service, solely at his own expense. “I have,” said he, “saved
sufficient money for this purpose, though my brother has got possession
of a great part of my fortune.” In fact, he memorialised and teased the
government (who were surprised at his temerity, yet unwilling to meddle
with him) until at length they had him arrested, and required to show
his written authority from the governor of New South Wales for returning
from transportation,—which being unable to do, he was committed to
Newgate, to await the governor’s reply.
-----
Footnote 66:
The former affair alluded to by Lord Clare was certainly of a most
unpardonable description.
-----
Here his firmness and eccentricity never forsook him; he sent in
repeated petitions to the ministry, requesting to be hanged, and told me
he would give any gentleman 500_l._ who had sufficient interest to get
him put to death without delay! An unsatisfactory answer arrived from
New South Wales:—but the government could not, under the circumstances,
execute him for his return;—and liberate him Lord Clare _would_ not: his
confinement therefore was, of course, indefinitely continued. During its
course he purchased a lottery ticket, which turned out a prize of
2000_l._; and soon after, a second brought him 500_l._ He lived well;
but having no society, was determined to provide himself a companion at
all events.
At this juncture the Earl of Aldborough became his next-door
neighbour.—My lady (the best wife in the world) did not desert her
husband; and, as all women of rank entertain what they call a “young
person” to attend on them;—that is, (speaking generally) a girl
handsomer than the mistress, neater in her dress, as good in her
address—and more _cautious_ as to her character;—Lady Aldborough brought
such a one with her to the prison as her dresser and tea-maker. But this
“young person,” considering (as Swift says) that “service is no
inheritance,” and that she had no money of her own, and hearing that
Fitzpatrick Knaresborough possessed great plenty of that necessary
article, some way or other the metallic tractors brought them acquainted
on the stairs. To run away with him, she had only to trip across a
lobby: so she actually broke the sabbath by taking that journey one
Sunday morning, and left my lord and my lady to finish the morning
service, and wonder at the attractions of Newgate, which could set
a-wandering the virtue of their “_young person_,” whom all the
temptations, luxuries, and lovers of London and Dublin had never been
able to lead astray from the path of rectitude! My lady was surprised
how “Anna” could possibly connect herself with a convict for such a
_shocking_ crime;—but his lordship, who knew the world better, said
_that_ was the very reason why Anna admired him. However, the whole
business in all its ramifications terminated pretty fortunately. My lord
had his full revenge on Lord Clare, and got great credit for his
firmness and gallantry; Knaresborough was at length turned out of
Newgate when the government were tired of keeping him in; while the
“young person” produced sundry other young persons of her own in prison,
and was amply provided for. The only set-off to this comedy of “All’s
Well that Ends Well” was the melancholy fate of poor Miss Barton, who
married, was soon deserted by her husband, after his beating her
unmercifully, and died in misery.