A DUBLIN DENTIST.
Several friends have suggested that, even at the risk of being
considered discursive or irregular in the arrangement of my Gleanings
and Reminiscences, I should not conclude without narrating a few of the
incidents which my intimacy with the late Patrick Brophy, of Dawson
Street, the State Dentist, enabled me to witness or to hear described by
him.
He had commenced industrial avocations as an apprentice to a jeweller in
Skinner Row, and became singularly skilful in the execution of articles
in the precious metals, especially in the making of necklaces or setting
of gems. He subsequently obtained employment from a German dentist who
lived in Golden Lane; and from him he acquired a practical knowledge of
the operative means necessary for the relief of personal suffering by
stuffing or extracting teeth. The German returned to his native country
in 1815, and Brophy immediately succeeded to his Dublin business. When I
became acquainted with him, he was living in Dawson Street, and reputed
to be in the most extensive practice of a profession for which he had
not received any special preliminary instruction. He was extremely
convivial, but far more willing to give than to receive invitations; and
although his table was most profusely supplied with the choicest wines
and spirits, I never perceived in him the slightest indication of
intemperance. Amongst his intimates the most intimate was a gentleman
who resided in the town of Galway, and whose person was so very bulky as
to obtain for him the _soubriquet_ of "The Great Western." He required
no invitations to Brophy's table, for whenever he visited Dublin, he
became a daily dinner guest during his stay; and certainly his host did
not hesitate to make him the subject of tricks or bantering. At one
time, Brophy had just returned from a Parisian trip, and brought home
two or three shawl or scarf-pins made of polished steel, and having
large mother-of-pearl heads. The "Great Western" was in town, and was in
his usual place at dinner time, on a day when I happened to be a guest.
Pat had a dark scarf on his neck, and it was fastened with one of the
Parisian pins which I afterwards heard had cost about tenpence. His
bulky friend had a finger ring, on which there was one diamond, and soon
after dinner, he took it off, and handed it to Brophy, saying--
"Pat, you are considered a very competent judge of diamonds; what would
you value that ring at?"
Brophy examined the article, and replied, "I think it is worth about
thirty pounds."
"Well," said the other, "I bought it this morning at West's in Capel
Street, for thirty guineas."
"I do not think you should be dissatisfied with your bargain. It is a
nice, clear stone, and has been very neatly set," was the observation of
our host; but the proprietor of the ring very soon observed that Pat was
sporting a beautiful pearl pin, and asked him where he had procured it.
"This pin," said Brophy, taking it out of his scarf, and holding it up
to the view of his interrogator, "should be in some national museum or
institution where the relics of departed heroism and the memorials of
glorious achievements would excite the curiosity and admiration of
future generations. I have neither the time nor the ability necessary to
the description of its formation or value. I almost wish that I never
became its possessor."
The "Great Western" took the pin, and expressed his admiration at the
neatness of its formation, and the clearness and smoothness of the
beautiful pearl, of which he implored his dear friend Pat to disclose
the entire history. Pat consented, and proceeded as follows:--
"I was for several years on terms of the closest intimacy with the late
Dr. Auchmuty, who had a dispensary at Rathfarnham. In his latter years
his teeth had completely decayed, and I made him a set, with which he
was highly pleased, and for which I declined to accept of any
remuneration. I kept them in order by occasional repairs and cleaning,
and frequently visited the old doctor, for whom I had the highest
esteem, and whose conversation was extremely interesting, for he had
been a naval surgeon, and served on board the "Victory" at the battle of
Trafalgar. At length he found his health declining very rapidly, and
felt that his end was approaching; and he said to me, a short time
before his death, that he wished to leave me a token of his gratitude
for my attentions, and begged me to accept this pin, which he assured me
was formed from a nail drawn from the timbers of the 'Victory,' steeled
and highly polished, and then mounted with the pearl, _which he had
taken from Nelson's eye_. Such is the simple history of this
extraordinary relic."
"Oh! what a treasure you obtained from your old friend!" exclaimed the
"Great Western," "exquisitely beautiful in appearance, and also
surpassingly interesting in reference to its materials and origin."
"Its intrinsic value," said Brophy, "is not half, or perhaps a quarter,
of what your ring cost."
"I would give two such rings for that pin," was the reply.
"Suppose I let you have it for one."
"I would close the bargain at once."
"Then close it," said Pat, handing the pin to the "Great Western," from
whom he received in return the thirty-guinea ring.
Within forty-eight hours all the very numerous friends and acquaintances
of the dentist became fully informed respecting the substitution of the
Parisian shawl-pin for the pearl off Nelson's eye. The former owner of
the ring became the object of cajolery and mock condolence wheresoever
he appeared, and no one quizzed or bantered him more than his friend
Pat, who advised him to get up a raffle for the pin, and offered to take
three tickets, provided each chance of obtaining the Trafalgar relic did
not exceed fourpence. He retained the ring; but, certainly, the "Great
Western" could console himself in the enjoyment of very frequent
repasts, which he appeared fully to appreciate.
When Prince Napoleon, some years since, went round Great Britain and
Ireland in the Imperial yacht, "La Reine Hortense," he was detained at
Galway by the weather becoming extremely boisterous. Having landed and
arranged to remain for a few days at the railway hotel, he was waited on
by the "Great Western," who then happened to be the High Sheriff, and
who, accompanied by some of the principal gentry, welcomed the Prince,
and expressed an anxiety to give him a cordial reception and to render
his sojourn agreeable. The sheriff addressed him in French, but was
immediately requested to speak English, with which language the Prince
stated that he was perfectly acquainted. In a short time after, I was
dining at Brophy's, and the Galway functionary commenced a narration of
the interview, but was immediately interrupted by Pat, who told him that
we knew all about the affair already.
"How can you know anything about it?" said the sheriff; "there was
nothing published beyond the fact of our having called to pay our
respects."
"Oh!" replied Pat, "one of your companions was here very soon after, and
gave me the particulars fully, and I mentioned them to a great many of
my friends. He said that you told those who were going with you that you
would address Napoleon in French, and when you and the others were
admitted, you began to speak, but were immediately stopped by the
Prince, who said, 'Mr. Sheriff, you will greatly oblige me by speaking
English, for I assure you and the other Galway gentlemen that I do not
understand the _Irish_ language.'"
The laughter excited by Brophy's imaginative statement that the
sheriff's French had been mistaken for Irish was renewed and increased
by the earnest declaration of the latter that the Prince had not uttered
a word about the Irish language, nor imputed any imperfection to his
French. By his energetic denials of the fiction he rendered it extremely
amusing.
Along with great hospitality, Brophy afforded his guests frequent and
varied amusements. He had a considerable number of costumes, which
enabled him to impart a grotesque and motley appearance to the occupants
of his dinner-table, or to produce a _tableau vivant_ in his
drawing-room. There was a young barrister whose stature exceeded six
feet, and he was generally wigged, robed, and placed on an elevated
seat, to be styled "The Lord High Chancellor." I was usually equipped to
personate a Lord Mayor; but whenever his favorite tableau of the death
of Nelson was produced, I was in the garb of a sailor, and had to catch
the falling hero as soon as one who sang, with a splendid voice and
great musical taste, the recitative and air descriptive of the casualty,
came to the lines announcing--
"At length the fatal wound,
Which spread dismay around,
The hero's breast received."
The vocalist was not in view; he was in a side wing, where he was
accompanied by pianoforte music, and the shot was simulated by a blow on
a drum. Brophy's Nelson was a perfect make-up. He wore an admiral's
uniform, presenting an armless sleeve and various decorations, and the
green shade over _the pearl_ on the sightless eye was not forgotten. I
recollect one representation, when he fell more against my shoulder than
across my arm and knee, but he immediately stood up and exclaimed,
"D----n it, that won't do: I must die again."
He was very fond of music, and played the violin frequently, but
confined his performances to jigs, reels, and lively Irish tunes. I
called one evening, when I was told that he was not at home, but as I
was leaving, the servant followed me, and I was informed that he wished
me to go down to the lower room of "the return," where he had "a couple
of fiddlers." When I entered the apartment, he said that he was glad I
came, as I had two legs, and could increase the number amongst them to
half-a-dozen. Each of his companions was minus a leg, but their hands
were in perfect order, and their music was extremely pleasing.
The late Lord Rossmore was very intimate with Brophy, who was certainly
not singular in admiring the many amiable and agreeable qualities
invariably evinced by his noble friend. On one occasion Pat had engaged
a first-rate player on the Irish pipes named Conolloy or Coneely, to
enliven upwards of a dozen guests by his very delectable music. He was
totally blind, and was placed on a chair in a corner of the parlour,
where he played whilst we were dining, but he had been previously
supplied with a plentiful repast. In the course of the evening, Brophy
had a small table placed before the piper, and said that he had afforded
us very great pleasure, but he should take a little rest, unyoke the
pipes, and have a tumbler of punch, which was made by Brophy and put
just at his hand. Almost immediately after this arrangement had been
effected, Captain Toosey Williams urged Lord Rossmore to take the pipes
and favor us with a tune or two. We all joined in the request to "his
lordship," and he acceded to our wishes, and played several pieces of
exquisitely sweet music, interspersed with most extraordinary
imitations. In one, which was named "The Hare in the Corn," he produced
sounds very much resembling the cry of harriers, and other tones like
the notes of a hunting horn, terminating with two or three simulated
squeaks, supposed to indicate the capture of the hare. He then proceeded
to play the beautiful Scotch air of "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,"
to which we were listening with great delight, when the blind piper rose
from his seat, and exclaimed with furious indignation--
"I did not expect such treatment from any people calling themselves
gentlemen. It was a most scandalous shame to bring me, a poor dark man,
here to be humbugged as you are trying to do, calling on _my lord_ to
yoke my pipes and play for ye. He is as much "a lord" as I am myself;
the d----l a lord ever played as he does, he's nothing but a rale piper.
It is not honest or decent to try and deceive me, but you can't do it."
Brophy succeeded in pacifying the enraged musician by admitting that the
performer was a real piper, and we had two or three tunes more.
Conolly's indignation produced very great merriment amongst us, and no
one enjoyed it more than the noble object of his censure.
There was a citizen of high commercial position, who was, I believe,
justly reputed to be very wealthy. He was a widower, and had become
habituated to take a very copious allowance of grog immediately before
retiring to rest. He had a son whose society Brophy highly relished, for
he had been an amateur performer in every scene of warfare to which he
could obtain access. He had served in Portugal under the standard of
Donna Maria, and subsequently joined the foreign legion embodied to
contend against the claims of Don Carlos to the crown of Spain. The
contests in which he had participated, and the vicissitudes he had
undergone, enabled him to relate many interesting occurrences. He was a
very agreeable companion, and was always welcome in Dawson Street.
Brophy had made a set of teeth for the old gentleman, and when doing
some occasional repairs, was informed of the fact, that every night the
teeth were placed in a vessel of cold water, where they remained until
their own owner restored them to his jaws in the morning. One evening
the young man was expressing great dissatisfaction at the dull, tame,
and insipid life he was leading, without having any incentive or
opportunity to exhibit energy or attempt enterprise; and he added, that
although he was well lodged, clothed, and dieted, he was personally
penniless, for his father never allowed him any pocket-money.
"I'll get you a little cash," said Brophy. "Slip into his bedchamber,
and bring me his teeth; he puts them in a water-basin before he goes to
bed." In a night or two the suggestion was adopted, and Brophy
immediately made some slight alteration to prevent them exactly fitting
their owner, who very soon arrived in a most disconsolate state, and was
scarcely able to express articulately the inconvenience and annoyance to
which he was subjected. He admitted that he had not been quite sober
when he went to bed, but felt certain that he had left the teeth in the
basin as usual.
Brophy sympathised with the toothless patient, and told him that he
would lose no time in remedying the disaster. He measured the mouth, and
then said that there was a set nearly ready for a person who had
bespoken them, which, with a little alteration, might fit the present
occasion. The teeth were tried, they were a little too tight in one
place, and not close enough in another; but these faults were speedily
redressed, and the old gentleman was enabled to express distinctly his
perfect satisfaction, adding--
"It is all right, Pat. There could not be a better dentist found in the
world; and only that they did not fit when you tried them at first, I
would most swear that _my own teeth were back again in my head_."
Brophy received twenty pounds, which were immediately transferred to the
young fellow, who subsequently went to Italy to fight for the Pope, but
never returned.
Patrick Brophy was a widower when my acquaintance with him commenced. At
his marriage he had received from the bride's father one thousand pounds
in cash, and a bond for a thousand pounds, the interest on which was to
be paid half-yearly, and the principal to be liquidated at the death of
the obligor. A sudden and very severe indisposition proved fatal to the
bride in nine days after her wedding, and in the evening after her
interment her husband returned the cash and bond to her parent. Although
such conduct was certainly disinterested, and might by many be deemed
even generous, he never relished any allusion or reference to it.
I believe that about the commencement of his dentistry pursuits, Brophy
had some employment connected with Doctor Steevens' Hospital. I have
heard that he used to repair or clean some instruments for the use of
the institution; but I know that when he had attained to extensive
practice and the incident advantages, he frequently evinced a great
desire for the prosperity and advancement of it, and he frequently
visited the old hospital, to all the wards of which he had full access.
There was a stringent prohibition of the smoking of tobacco by any
person whatever in the wards or passages, and a disobedience or neglect
of this order was punishable by immediate expulsion from the premises.
James Cusack, who, as a surgeon, was not to be surpassed, was the
principal of the professional authorities, and he entertained a peculiar
abhorrence of the slightest fume of tobacco being observed on the
premises. On an afternoon stroll I accompanied Brophy until we were
within a few yards of the building, when Cusack's carriage came rapidly
up, and he alighted, and entered as soon as possible the principal male
ward, in the most distant bed of which he saw a man in a sitting posture
and smoking a pipe. The offender, perceiving that he was detected,
reclined back, and drew the bedclothes about his shoulders. Cusack
stepped rapidly to the bedside, and said--
"You have been smoking."
"No, sir."
"I saw you, you lying scoundrel."
"No, sir."
Cusack was standing close to the culprit, and turning round, he shouted
for the attendants, who hurried to him; along with them Brophy and I
entered the ward, when Cusack resumed--
"This man has been smoking tobacco; the pipe was in his mouth when I
came into the ward."
"No, sir."
"You have the pipe in the bed with you."
"No, sir."
"Lift this fellow to another bed, and see that he has nothing wrapped in
his shirt."
The order was obeyed, and then the vacated bed was strictly searched,
the bolster, quilt, blankets, sheets, and mattress separately examined,
but no pipe was forthcoming, Cusack repeated his positive assertions,
that he had seen the fellow smoking, but he could only elicit another
"No, sir." He was retiring from the ward, not perplexed in his
conviction of having witnessed the forbidden indulgence, but
disappointed and annoyed at the fruitless search. Returning to the
offender, he said--
"I promise to forgive you fully, and leave you quite unpunished, if you
now tell me where you put the pipe."
"Try your own pocket, sir."
Cusack put his hand in the back pocket of his overcoat, and there found
the pipe, which the delinquent had slipped in as the other had turned
about to call the attendants.
Great laughter supervened, in which the eminent and amiable James Cusack
heartily joined. When we were leaving the hospital, Brophy went into the
ward and gave the smoker half-a-crown, and on our way home he remarked
that the fellow deserved a reward, as undoubtedly his trick upon Cusack
was "as good as a play."
An intimate friend, whom I could also term a schoolfellow, named
Vickers, was my companion on a Sunday walk in the summer of 1852, and we
happened to direct our course to the Royal Hospital of Kilmainham, and
finding that the door of the grounds so long used as a public cemetery
was open, we entered, and seated ourselves in the centre of the
inclosure, formerly known as "Bully's Acre," or the Hospital Fields,
resting ourselves on the remains of an old monument, and enjoying the
prospect presented by the varied and undulating surface of the Phoenix
Park, and the rich country in its vicinity. My companion had been a
medical student in his youth, and he related an adventure which the
locality suggested to his recollection, and with the results of which
Brophy was stated to have been unpleasantly and unprofitably connected.
His narrative was as follows:--
"We had a very stirring row in that corner one night, when I was
apprentice to old Aby Colles; for at that time we had generally to
provide our own _subjects_, or to purchase them, at a very high price,
from men who followed the calling of "sack-em-ups;" and as money was not
always plenty, we used to form parties for the purpose of invading this
and other burial-grounds, and exhuming the bodies. Brophy, the dentist,
had a brother named Maurice, whom he was desirous of putting into the
medical profession. He was a manly, generous fellow, and possessed a
very strong inclination for anything that denoted enterprise, or
promised excitement. Pat had taken a cottage and garden in Rathmines,
and for his whim or amusement he went into a shop in Kennedy's Lane and
purchased a spade; and having given his address, the seller wrote the
name and address on the handle of the implement. The spade was sent
home, and upon the same day a party was organised, of which I
constituted one, to visit this place and disinter two or three bodies
that had been buried in the morning. I mentioned to Maurice the project
we had formed, and he eagerly joined in the undertaking. All was
arranged; and we drove out to this place, left our cars at a little
distance, and entered the ground, determined to work silently and
quickly. However, our volunteer friend had provided himself with his
brother's spade, and certainly used it with great despatch, although not
so noiselessly as might be wished. But we had been watched. We were seen
entering the cemetery, and a body of men, armed with every rough weapon
that they could procure, came suddenly upon us. We had to retreat, and
made a running fight until we reached the wall, and there our associate
was attacked by a man who, with fearful imprecations, declared he would
have his life. Blows were quickly interchanged; the combatants closed;
and a fierce struggle occurred, which was terminated by Maurice urging
his antagonist to the wall, and very speedily pitching him over; the
depth at the other side was at least ten feet, although where the
encounter occurred was only a foot or two lower than the wall top. The
man fell, exclaiming that he was murdered. He groaned heavily; and we
succeeded with great difficulty, and not without some severe blows from
sticks and stones, in effecting an escape from a scene where we felt
almost fully convinced that we had left a warm corpse in our attempt to
obtain a cold one.
"On reaching Dublin, I accompanied Maurice to the house of his brother,
who was greatly alarmed at our appearance, and still more at our
narration of the adventure. When it was concluded, he eagerly asked
where was the spade, and on being apprised that it had been left in the
cemetery, he exclaimed that we would all be hung, or at best
transported. 'I knew,' said he to his brother, 'that you would get
yourself into an infernal scrape sooner or later; and now your only
chance is to set off on foot, and make your way to Naas. I shall have an
inside seat taken in the Limerick day-coach for a gentleman who will get
in there; make your way to Limerick, and we will try and manage a
passage for you from some southern part to get abroad.' Arrangements
were made with brief despatch; our companion departed; and the dentist,
retired to an uneasy bed, perplexed by fears of coroner's inquest,
wilful murder, hue and cry, apprehension, trial, conviction, and
execution of his unlucky brother.
"Next morning he had scarcely finished his breakfast when he was
informed that M'Donough, the peace-officer, required to see him. He
admitted the unwelcome visitant, and was informed that his orders[20]
were to bring Mr. Brophy immediately to the Head Police-Office, and to
keep him from communicating with any other person before he arrived
there. There was no further explanation; and Brophy thought it prudent
to refrain from any question beyond asking if he might take a car. This
was at once acceded to; and as the peace-officer and his _quasi_
prisoner were getting on the vehicle, a woman rapidly approached and
screamed forth the dentist's name. He ascribed this circumstance to the
grief or resentment of a bereaved widow or sister, who thought that she
beheld in him one of the murderous authors of her misery; but the car
drove off rapidly, and the police-office was reached without any further
incident or interruption.
"The office was crowded, and at the table was seated Mr. William Hall,
an attorney. Brophy and he were well acquainted, and a salute passed
between them as the dentist sat down near the other. The magistrates
were in their private room, engaged in some conference or consultation.
After the lapse of a few minutes, Brophy ventured a word to Mr. Hall.
"'This is a very unpleasant business, Billy.'
"'Very annoying, indeed,' replied the other, 'I have not met a more
unpleasant case for some time.'
"'Billy, would a little money be of any avail?'
"'Why, my dear fellow, thirty pounds would put an end to it altogether.'
"'Thirty pounds! Don't say another word. Here's the money. I depend on
you that all will be right.'
"The magistrates[21] entered, and Billy Hall immediately proceeded to
express his great gratification that it would not be necessary, or
indeed possible, to go any further with the charge then pending before
them. 'In fact,' said he, 'it is impossible to continue the prosecution,
for the respectable gentleman, whose name was alleged to have been
forged, has paid the bill, and it is now my duty to have it handed over
to him in your worship's presence.'
"A bill of exchange was delivered, in compliance with Hall's direction,
to Patrick Brophy, who found his name written as drawer upon it, in a
manner closely resembling his own signature. Evidently surprised, he
exclaimed that he thought he had been sent for on another matter.
"'What other matter, sir?' inquired Major Sirr.
"'Oh, nothing, nothing, sir,' said the enraged but fearful Brophy, who
felt that an explanation, which would relieve him from the loss just
incurred, might involve his brother Maurice in an accusation of dreadful
import. 'Perhaps,' said a peace-officer, 'the gentleman knows something
about a spade which we have below. We stopped a young vagabond pledging
it on the Coombe, and it appears quite new. There was a name and
direction on the handle, but the fellow scraped it almost entirely out.
We have found, however, on inquiry in Kennedy's Lane, that this
gentleman bought such a spade at Bryan Murphy's, yesterday.'
"'That spade,' said Brophy, 'is gone from Dublin. It was bought for a
friend, and is forty miles away by this time.'
"'Then, what other business were you thinking of?" resumed the
inquisitive Major.
"'Perhaps,' suggested Alderman Darley, 'his anxiety refers to the young
woman from Dolphin's Barn, who is charged with concealing the birth of
her infant, and who so obstinately refuses to tell who is its father.'
"'Alas! for the depravity of man,' said the Major. 'Shall we never be
free from vice and its consequences, sin and sorrow, crime and
punishment?'
"'Why, Major,' said Brophy, taking courage, 'I don't think you'll be
quite free of them in a hurry; but I'd like to find out the other
parties concerned in this darling bill, for, by G----, I'll make some of
them pay it if I can.'
"'Fie, sir!' said the Major. 'It is plain that a mistaken lenity has led
you to adopt a forgery; and I only hope that there may be more of them
in circulation; for now having paid one, you cannot refuse the others;
and as it is, I have a strong inclination to fine you for blasphemous
swearing.'
"'Don't mind it, Major,' said Brophy, 'I won't _swear_ any more; but
when I get out of this, I think that I'll _curse_ a little.'
"He departed, having paid thirty pounds for a forgery of his own name,
and had no consolation beyond discovering, which he did very soon, that
the fellow who had been thrown over the wall was not dead, nor even
materially injured, and had taken his beating without making much noise
about it, once it was over. The spade had been found by some poor
vagrant, who sought quietly to dispose of it. Maurice was brought home
again, and Pat was forced to acknowledge, amongst his bantering
associates, that the _spade_ had turned up 'a trump' for the forger."
FOOTNOTES:
[20] Such orders were not unusual in former times.
[21] I have often heard Pemberton and Ross Cox describe the scene as
fully remembered by them.