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TWENTY YEARS' RECOLLECTIONS OF AN IRISH POLICE MAGISTRATE.
BY
FRANK THORPE PORTER, A.M., J.P.,
BARRISTER-AT-LAW,
AND FOR UPWARDS OF TWENTY YEARS A MAGISTRATE OF THE HEAD OFFICE OF
DUBLIN POLICE.
"Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te sciate hoc sciat alter."--PERSIUS.
TENTH EDITION.
_DUBLIN_:
HODGES, FOSTER, AND FIGGIS.
_LONDON_:
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO., STATIONERS' HALL COURT.
1880.
PREFACE.
In submitting the following pages to the consideration of the public, I
am influenced by a desire to extend the appetite which is so greedy in
devouring fiction to some morsels of fact.
Several of my narratives refer to incidents which, in their disclosures,
might occasion disagreeable feelings to the parties or to their kindred.
In such cases, I shall adopt fictitious names; but in all the details
offered to the reader, I shall include nothing which I do not firmly
believe or personally know to be _strictly true_. To the former class
must be referred several anecdotes derived from parental lips, and
referring to years previous to my birth. In a theatre, the performers
are neither applauded nor hissed from behind the scenes. The judgment
which they have to encounter is that of the audience. As a literary
manager, I shall leave each tragic or comic incident to the unbiassed
opinion and criticism of my readers. I shall occasionally have to
encounter the danger arising from allowing a great culprit to escape, or
a virtuous and estimable individual to undergo misfortune. In this
respect the writer of fiction possesses a vast advantage. He can lavish
every worldly blessing on the deserving, and allot the direst
punishments to vice and crime. But when we have to deal with stern
realities, we may regret the occurrence of a fact which leaves guilt
undetected and innocence in deep affliction. I can, however, safely
assert, upon the experience of a long professional and official life,
that vice seldom attains to great worldly prosperity, and that worth and
integrity are rarely subjected to utter destitution.
It is difficult to classify anecdotes or reminiscences which are not
connected with each other. The course I propose to adopt is to lay
before my readers the narratives which I have derived from sources
anterior to my birth, from lips truthful and occasionally humorous, but
now silent for ever. I shall reserve, as far as possible, my own
personal recollections for the latter part of this publication, in the
hope that the amusement and information obtained from others, may soften
the critical reader to an indulgent reception of the portion peculiarly
connected with myself. I may remark that some anecdotes in which my name
is introduced have been very extensively published in several
periodicals. I accord to their authors my willing testimony as to their
great imaginative power, for in the statements concerning me there is
not one word of truth. My friend, Mr. Fitzpatrick, in his recent
productions of "The Sham Squire" and "Ireland before the Union," has
mentioned me as the source from which he derived the particulars of a
few incidents in those interesting works. His unexaggerated correctness
forms a strong contrast to the flippant fictions of others. However,
when my name is brought before the public, in reference either to
fiction or fact, it affords me some apology for appearing _in propriâ
personâ_.
I cannot refrain from subjoining to this preface, with the permission of
the writer, a letter which I received soon after the publication of the
first edition.
F. T. P.
DUBLIN CASTLE, _29th October, 1875_.
DEAR MR. PORTER,
"I must thank you for the gratification and amusement Lady Burke
and I have found in your "Gleanings." The stories are full of
interest, and the anecdotes are told with wit, humour, and
piquancy. The volume is one of the cleverest books I have read this
long time."
Yours very truly,
J. BERNARD BURKE, ULSTER.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAGE
Lonergan's Case--Old Prisons 1
CHAPTER II.
Vesey and Keogh 6
CHAPTER III.
Mary Tudor 16
CHAPTER IV.
The Birth of a Word--A Letter of Introduction--The
Honor of Knighthood 25
CHAPTER V.
A Millionaire 31
CHAPTER VI.
The Ship Street Diamond--Second-hand Plate--The Silver
Slab--Law's Window--Old Newgate 33
CHAPTER VII.
Gonne's Watch 42
CHAPTER VIII.
The Major 49
CHAPTER IX.
Committals--A Barber Wanted--Dwyer the Rebel--An Extraordinary
Inquest--Sergeant Greene's Horse--Christy
Hughes--The Police Clerks--Recorder Walker--The
Police Statutes--Preamble--A Benefit Society Case--Police
Recruits--A Born Soldier 57
CHAPTER X.
Mendicancy 71
CHAPTER XI.
Carriage Court Cases--Dublin Carmen 77
CHAPTER XII.
A Gratuitous Jaunt--The Portuguese Postillion--A Few
Hyperboles--Miscellaneous Summonses 88
CHAPTER XIII.
Dogs--Whipping Young Thieves--Garden Robbers--Reformatories
--Apologies for Violence--Trespassers on a Nunnery 95
CHAPTER XIV.
Terry Driscoll's Fiction--Bridget Laffan--Sailors--Fisher 103
CHAPTER XV.
A Duper Duped 110
CHAPTER XVI.
Who threw the Bottle?--Excise and Customs Cases 119
CHAPTER XVII.
John Sergeant--The Magisterial Offices--Two Murders--One
Reprieved--Delahunt's Crimes 127
CHAPTER XVIII.
Murder of Mr. Little--Detective Inefficiency--Individual
Efficiency--A False Accusation Exposed--Extraordinary
Gratitude--A Salutary Reformation--A Charge of Felony--Poor
Puss, who shot her?--Baxter and Barnes 139
CHAPTER XIX.
A Run to Connaught--A Present--A Puzzle--Moll Raffle--A
Lucky Accusation--Crown Witnesses--Who blew up King
William?--Surgical Assistance--A Rejected Suitor--George
Robins--The Greek Count: The Rats--The Child
of the Alley--The Lucky Shot 153
CHAPTER XX.
O'Connell--Smith O'Brien and Meagher--John Mitchel
--Informers--The Close of 1848--The Military--A French
View of Popular Commotions 169
CHAPTER XXI.
Cholera: An Impatient Patient; Good News! only Typhus
Fever--Royal Visits--Scotch Superiority strongly
asserted--A Police Bill stigmatised--Leave of Absence--The
Rhine--The Rhineland 186
CHAPTER XXII.
Brussels--Royal Children--The Great Exhibition in
London--Home Again: A Preacher--Unlucky Rioters--Visit to
Paris--Michel Perrin 202
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Count or Convict, which?--The Fawn's Escape 231
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Count de Coucy--Dumas--A Threatened Suicide 251
CHAPTER XXV.
Dargan's Exhibition--A Bell and Knocker--Lord Gough--Father
Pecherine's Case--Assaults and Thefts--The City
Militia--A Scald quickly cured--Sailors leaving their Ship 262
CHAPTER XXVI.
Effects of Enlistment--Martial Tendencies--The She
Barracks--The Dublin Garrison--An Artillery Amazon--A
Colonel of Dragoons--Donnybrook Fair--The Liquor Traffic 277
CHAPTER XXVII.
The College Row--The Cook Street Printer--A Question and
Answer--A Barrister--An Attorney--Gibraltar 291
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Gibraltar, _continued_ 306
CHAPTER XXIX.
Gibraltar, _continued_--Departure for Home--Charity, real
Charity--A Death and Funeral--The Bay of Biscay again--At
Home: Leisure no Pleasure--A Review 320
CHAPTER XXX.
A Dublin Dentist 332
CHAPTER XXXI.
A Trip to the North--Metrical Attempts--Contrasts--Paris:
A Fair--A Review--Nadar's Balloon--Sport, Turf,
Boxing--Liquor Vehicles--No Hods--A Horse, a Dog, Rats 346
CHAPTER XXXII.
Contrasts--French Kitchens--Shops and Signs--The
Seine--Trees and Flowers--A Pretty Thief--French
Wit--French Silver--The Hotel des Invalides 360
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Gain preferred to Glory--Curious Inscriptions--Former
Gambling--An Assault--French Charity--A Letter to Heaven 376
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Father Prout 382
CHAPTER XXXV.
A French Land Murder--Irishmen, French Ecclesiastics--Algerian
Productions--Bird Charming--Brittany--Chateaubriand 387
CHAPTER XXXVI.
The Arran Islands--Circuit Reminiscences--Conclusion 396
TWENTY YEARS' RECOLLECTIONS OF AN IRISH POLICE MAGISTRATE.
CHAPTER I.
LONERGAN'S CASE--OLD PRISONS.
Although it is probable that I may bring before my readers an incident
or two of a more remote date, I shall commence with the narrative of an
alleged crime and its supposed punishment, which has been adverted to by
Sir Jonah Barrington in his "Personal Recollections," Vol. I., page 52,
and in the description of which he has lapsed into considerable
inaccuracy. According to him, the name of the person chiefly concerned
was "Lanegan;" but in that respect there is a positive error; for by
examining the records of the Crown Office, (Ireland,) I find the name,
as my father had frequently stated to me, to be "Lonergan." He was a
young man who had been educated at the school of the Rev. Eugene
M'Kenna, of Raheny, in the County of Dublin, and from that establishment
entered Trinity College, Dublin, in the year 1773. During his
undergraduate course, he resided with Mr. M'Kenna, and acted as an
assistant in the school. In 1777, having finished his University
studies, he became a tutor in the family of Mr. Thomas O'Flaherty, of
Castlefield, in the County of Kilkenny. That gentleman was singularly
unfortunate in having married a woman of most depraved tendencies. She
engaged in an intrigue with Lonergan, and on the 28th of June, 1778, Mr.
O'Flaherty died under circumstances which occasioned the arrest of
Lonergan, on a charge of having poisoned him. The woman evaded arrest
and escaped to a foreign country. Some time must have elapsed between
the commission of the crime and the apprehension of the accused party,
for it was not until the Summer Assizes of Kilkenny, in 1781, that
Lonergan was arraigned for _Petit Treason_, the offence being considered
by the law, as it then existed, as more aggravated than murder, inasmuch
as he was in the domestic service of the man whom he was alleged to have
destroyed. He succeeded, on certain legal grounds, in postponing his
trial; but in the ensuing term a writ of _certiorari_ issued, and the
indictment was removed to the Court of King's Bench. A trial at bar was
held on November 12th, 1781, the jury having been brought up from
Kilkenny. The prisoner was convicted, and sentenced to be hanged and
_quartered_ on the 24th of the aforesaid month, and the sheriffs of the
City of Dublin were directed to have the sentence carried into effect.
At the time of his conviction, the prisoner declared that he was
innocent of the crime; but he admitted that he bought arsenic at the
instance of Mrs. O'Flaherty, who, according to his statement, told him
that she intended to use it in destroying rats. He did not deny the
imputation of an adulterous intrigue with her. The Rev. Mr. M'Kenna did
not forget his former pupil and assistant. He visited him in prison,
testified to his character in very favorable terms at the trial, and,
after condemnation, was assiduous in preparing him to meet his impending
doom with Christian resignation. He determined to attend him to the
termination of his sufferings, and to pay the last duties to his
remains. M'Kenna was married to a cousin of my father, and he was on
terms of the closest intimacy with our family. My father resided in
Skinner Row, (now Christ Church Place,) Dublin; and at the period to
which this narrative refers, he was in the prime of life--tall,
vigorous, and active. He was also serjeant of the grenadier company of
the Dublin Volunteers. He had known the unhappy Lonergan during the
peaceful and comparative innocent days that the latter had spent at
Raheny. He pitied the miserable fate of the culprit, doubted his guilt,
and sympathized with the worthy man whose pious solicitude and
friendship still sought to console the spirit that was so soon to pass
away. On the evening before the execution, M'Kenna remained with the
condemned as long as the regulations of the prison permitted. He then
betook himself to my father's house, where he proposed to stay until the
earliest hour of the morning at which he could be admitted to the gaol.
Having mentioned that he would not fail to attend Lonergan to the
consummation of his fate, in compliance with the culprit's request, he
was informed by my father that he should also be at the execution, for
that owing to the paucity of regular troops in Dublin, the sheriff had
made a requisition for a guard of the Volunteers, and that the grenadier
company were to attend at Baggot Street, (the Tyburn of Dublin,) to
which place the prisoner was to be escorted from Thomas Street by a
troop of cavalry.
Accordingly, on the 24th November, 1781, Lonergan, having briefly but
very distinctly denied any participation in the crime for which he was
condemned, was hanged by the withdrawal of the cart from beneath the
gallows to which the halter was attached, and although he received no
drop, his sufferings did not seem to be very acute. He almost
immediately ceased to struggle, and life appeared to be extinct. The
weather was extremely inclement; and when the body had been suspended
for about twenty minutes, the sheriff acceded to a suggestion that it
might be cut down. There was some difficulty in getting at the rope so
as to cut it with a knife. M'Kenna remarked this to my father, who,
drawing his short, slightly curved, and very sharp hanger, directed the
cart to be backed towards the body. Then, springing up on the cart, he
struck the rope where it crossed the beam, and severed it at once. A
coffin was brought forward from a hearse which was in waiting. The
sheriff directed the cap to be removed, and the body to be turned with
the face down. Then he handed a sharp penknife to the executioner, who
made two incisions across each other on the back of the neck. This was
considered a formal compliance with the portion of the sentence which
directed "quartering." The body was then left to the care of the
faithful friend, M'Kenna, who directed it to be placed in the hearse and
conveyed to his house at Raheny. On the 26th, a funeral, very scantily
attended, proceeded to Raheny churchyard. M'Kenna had the coffin lowered
into a very deep grave, and the burial service was read by the parochial
clergyman. Persons were engaged to watch for a few nights lest any
attempt should be made to exhume the corpse for anatomical purposes. In
two days after the funeral my father received a note from M'Kenna, in
consequence of which he immediately proceeded to Raheny. On his arrival
he was pledged to secrecy and co-operation. He willingly assented, and
having been conducted into a small apartment in the upper part of the
house, he there beheld alive, although greatly debilitated, the man
whom, at Baggot Street, he had cut down from the gallows. On the night
of the 30th November, he brought Lonergan into Skinner Row. There he
kept him concealed for upwards of a week, and then succeeded in shipping
him for Bristol. From thence he proceeded, unsuspected and
uninterrupted, to America, where, under the name of James Fennell, he
lived for a considerable time, and supported himself by educational
pursuits. His resuscitation was attributed to the rope having been
unusually short, to his being swung from the cart without receiving any
perpendicular drop, and especially to the incisions in his neck, which
produced a copious effusion of blood. Lonergan stated that on being
suspended, he immediately lost any sensation of a painful nature. His
revival was attended with violent and distressing convulsions.
OLD PRISONS.
Before I proceed to the details of some other narratives, I trust that
my readers will not censure me for submitting to their perusal incidents
connected with real or imputed crimes, and asking them to accompany me,
even in imagination, to prison scenes. There is scarcely a novelist of
celebrity that has not frequently introduced his readers to such places,
and generally without exciting any repugnance to his description of
them, or to the narratives which they supply or the subjects they
suggest. Although the prison may disappear and be replaced by other
structures, even of a different character, its ideal existence
continues, and perhaps outlasts those that arose on its foundations or
in its vicinity. In Paris, the Bastille is spoken of as if it still
existed. The name is inscribed on omnibusses, and the cab-driver asks no
further explanation when ordered to drive "a la Bastille." A house
within a short distance of the place where it stood displays on a
sign-board a view of the old fortress-prison; and few strangers pass it
during the day without pausing to gaze on the picture of a building to
which history refers so many fearful incidents, exaggerated nevertheless
most enormously by the unscrupulous revolutionists who introduced a
"reign of terror" of greater extent, and more sanguinary atrocity, than
the records of all the state prisons of France could supply. The Chateau
of Vincennes is an existing building; visited more for the memories of
the past than for the attractions of the present or the hopes of the
future; and few visitors leave it without gazing on the spot where, at
midnight, the hapless Duc D'Enghien received the fatal volley and filled
an untimely grave. Many prisons in England are associated with local
traditions or historical events highly interesting; but the lapse of
time and the habitudes of a people exceptionally romantic have deprived
them of an extensive popular appreciation. The Tolbooth of Edinburgh and
the building of the same designation in Glasgow have derived a lasting
fame from the pen of Scott; and whilst the English language exists, the
readers of the "Heart of Mid-Lothian" or "Rob Roy" will have the
Tolbooths vividly impressed on their imaginations. There are anecdotes
connected with the old prisons of Ireland, many of which would afford
most ample subjects for the writer of Romance, whilst even their simple
details would fully verify the adage that "Fact is stranger than
Fiction." I shall now proceed to a narrative which refers to a period
more than a century past, but in which, as to names and dates, the
crown-office records of the time fully agree with the statements which I
have heard from the descendants of some of the most respectable
characters connected, but in no discreditable manner, with the
circumstances detailed.
There may still be seen on the right hand side of the road leading from
Dublin through Mount Brown to Inchicore, a small portion of a granite
wall which formerly was in front of "Old Kilmainham," the common gaol of
the County of Dublin. That building was considered one of the worst
prisons of the kingdom, in consequence of its insufficient size and lax
discipline. Swift is said to have been, in his youthful days, a
frequent, although not a criminal visitor at this old gaol; and there,
perhaps, in the conversation of its inmates, he acquired much of the
coarseness and indelicacy which mar the wit and vigor of his
productions. I shall, however, most willingly and scrupulously abstain
from offering to my readers any specimens of the language of such a time
and place, when the building echoed with drunken revelry, and the
sufferings of a prisoner were aggravated by indecent buffoonery or
ribald jests. To my narrative such expressions are neither necessary nor
ornamental.