mentioned without paying him that tribute of acknowledgment so justly
due to his merit. At the time that this very man lay under the censure
of a law which, in his own country, made him subject to transportation
or death, from religious distinctions; and at the time that a prince of
his own religion threatened this country with an invasion, this
respectable character took up his pen, and unsolicited, and without a
motive but that of real patriotism, to urge his own communion to a
disposition of peace, and to support the law which had sentenced him to
transportation. A man of learning--a philosopher--a Franciscan--did the
most eminent service to his country in the hour of its greatest danger.
He brought out a publication that would do honor to the most celebrated
name. The whole kingdom must bear witness to its effect, by the
reception they gave it. Poor in everything but genius and philosophy, he
had no property at stake, no family to fear for; but descending from the
contemplation of wisdom, and abandoning the ornaments of fancy, he
humanely undertook the task of conveying duty and instruction to the
lowest class of the people. If I did not know him (continued Mr.
Grattan) to be a Christian clergyman, I should suppose him by his works
to be a philosopher of the Augustine age. The regulars are a harmless
body of men, and should not be disturbed.
"Mr. St. George declared, notwithstanding his determined opposition to
the regulars, he would, for the sake of one exalted character of their
body, be tolerant to the rest. But he, at the same time, would uniformly
oppose the tolerating any more regular clergy than what were at present
in the kingdom.
"Mr. Yelverton said, that he was proud to call such a man as Dr. O'Leary
his particular friend. His works might be placed upon a footing with the
finest writers of the age. They originated from the urbanity of the
heart; because unattached to the world's affairs, he could have none but
the purest motives of rendering service to the cause of morality and his
country. Had he not imbibed every sentiment of toleration before he knew
Father O'Leary, he should be proud to adopt sentiments of toleration
from him. He should yield to the sense of the committee in respect to
the limitation of regulars; because, he believed, no invitation which
could be held out would bring over another O'Leary."
"In a more advanced stage of the Catholic Bill, on the 5th of March,
these eulogies gave rise to some words between 'the rival orators,' as
Messrs. Flood and Grattan were then designated in parliament. 'I am not,'
said Flood towards the end of a speech, 'the missionary of a religion I
do not profess; nor do I speak eulogies on characters I will not
imitate.' No challenge of this nature ever was given by either of these
great men in vain. Mr. Grattan spoke at some length to the subject under
debate, and concluded in these words: 'Now, one word respecting Dr.
O'Leary. Something has been said about eulogies pronounced, and
missionaries of religion. I am not ashamed of the part which I took in
that gentleman's panegyric; nor shall I ever think it a disgrace to pay
the tribute of praise to the philosopher and the virtuous man.'"
HIS INTERVIEW WITH DANIEL DANSER.
Father O'Leary, when in London, had a great desire to see Daniel Danser;
but finding access to the king of misers very difficult, invented a
singular plan to gain his object. He sent a message to the miser, to the
effect that he had been in the Indies, become acquainted with a man of
immense wealth named Danser, who had died intestate, and, without a
shadow of doubt, was a relative of his. It may be that a recent dream,
coupled with the troubled state of the palm of his right hand, had their
share in inducing Daniel to allow the witty friar into his apartment.
Once entered, O'Leary contrived to sit down without depriving Mr. Danser
of the least portion of his dust, which, seemed to please him much; for
Daniel held that cleaning furniture was an invention of the enemy; that
it only helped to wear it out; consequently, regarded his dust as the
protector of his household gods. Daniel's fond dreams of wealth from the
Indies being dispelled, O'Leary began to console him by an historical
review of the Danser family, whose genealogy he traced from David, who
_danced_ before the Israelites, down to the Welsh _jumpers_, then
contemporaries of _dancing_ notoriety. His wit triumphed: for a moment
the sallow brow of avarice became illumined by the indications of a
delighted mind, and _Danser_ had courage enough to invite his visitor to
partake of a glass of wine, which, he said, he would procure for his
refreshment. A cordial shake hands was the return made for O'Leary's
polite refusal of so expensive a compliment; and he came from the house
followed by its strange tenant, who, to the amusement of O'Leary, and
the astonishment of the only other person who witnessed the scene,
solicited the favor of another visit.
A FOP.
"The "two-edged sword of wit," as that faculty has been termed, was
wielded by O'Leary in the more serious circumstances of life, as well as
in its playful hours. An instance where the painful exercise of this was
happily spared, occurred at one of the meetings of the English
Catholics, during the celebrated _Blue Book_ Controversy. One of the
individuals who was expected to advocate the objectionable designation
of "protesting Catholic dissenters," an appellation equally ludicrous
and unnecessary, was remarkable for an affected mode of public speaking.
What in dress is termed _foppish_, would be appropriate as applied to
his oratory. He was no admirer of O'Leary, and the feeling of dislike
was as mutual as could well be conceived. Him, therefore, O'Leary
selected as the opponent with whom he meant to grapple. Those to whom
he communicated his intention, and who knew his powers, looked forward
with expectation "on tiptoe" for a scene of enjoyment that no
anticipation could exaggerate. Disappointment was, however, their lot.
The meeting passed over quietly, and neither the objectionable matter
nor speaker was brought forward. However much his friends regretted this
circumstance, O'Leary was himself sincerely pleased; for he never
desired to give unnecessary pain. The gentlemen in concert with whom he
acted, dined together after the meeting, and the conversation happening
to turn on the disappointment which they had experienced in the result
of the debate, one of them who knew O'Leary intimately, inquired what
line of argument he had intended to pursue, if the meeting had assumed
the objectionable aspect which was dreaded--this was applying the torch
to gunpowder: he commenced an exhibition of the ludicrous so like what
would have taken place, so true in manner and matter to what every one
who knew the parties could anticipate, that the assemblage was convulsed
with laughter to a degree that made it memorable in the recollections of
all who witnessed it."
HIS PERSON AND MODE OF ARGUMENT.
Mr. Butler, in his Historical Memoirs, describes O'Leary's person and
mode of argument thus:--
"The appearance of Father O'Leary was simple. In his countenance there
was a mixture of goodness, solemnity, and drollery, which fixed every
eye that beheld it. No one was more generally loved or revered; no one
less assuming or more pleasing in his manner. Seeing his external
simplicity, persons with whom he was arguing were sometimes tempted to
treat him cavalierly; but then the solemnity with which he would mystify
his adversary, and ultimately lead him into the most distressing
absurdity was one of the most delightful scenes that conversation ever
exhibited."
O'LEARY AND "CAPTAIN ROCK."
In Tom Moore's "Memoirs of Captain Rock," the outlaw gives the following
humorous sketch:--
"The appearance of Father Arthur at our little chapel was quite
unexpected. We had heard, indeed, that he was proceeding through distant
parts of the country, but we had no idea that he would pay us a visit.
The mind of man is a strange compound of opposite passion. I had
everything to apprehend from the poor friar's preaching; yet, strange as
it may appear, I was almost willing to have all my bright scenes
overturned, provided I could have the pleasure to see and hear the
celebrated Father O'Leary. He opposed our designs, disapproved of our
motives, and censured our intentions; yet without having ever seen him,
we loved--almost adored him. Fame had wafted his name even to Rockglen;
and how could we but venerate a man who had exalted the character of
Irishmen, vindicated our oppressed country, and obtained from the ranks
of Protestantism, friends for our insulted creed.
"Besides, he was peculiarly adapted to our taste. He made the world
laugh at the foibles of our enemies, and put us in good humor with
ourselves. It was not, therefore, without some slight satisfaction that
we were informed from the altar that the good friar meant to address us
on our manifold transgressions. Never did men manifest such eagerness to
receive reproof. At the sound of his name, there was a general rush
towards the altar. The old women, for the first time in their lives,
ceased coughing, and the old men desisted from spitting. The short
people were elevated on their toes, and the tall people suffered their
hats (felt ones) to be crushed as flat as pancakes, sooner then
incommode their neighbors--a degree of politeness seldom practised in
more polished assemblies. All breathed short and thick; and much as we
venerated our good priest, we fancied he was particularly tedious in the
lecture he thought fit to read us on our neglecting to go to confession,
and on our dilatoriness in paying the last Easter dues. At length he
concluded by announcing Father O'Leary."
LOTS DRAWN TO HAVE HIM AT DINNER
In 1779, O'Leary visited Dublin on business connected with a bill before
parliament, which aimed at the destruction of the friars. During his
visit to Dublin, at this period, the following circumstance, quite
characteristic of O'Leary, is said to have taken place. He accidentally
met, in the lobby of the House of Commons, the late Lord Avonmore, then
Mr. Yelverton, and two gentlemen, members of the legislature; who, on
his appearance, entered into a friendly altercation to determine with
which of them O'Leary should, on the next day, share the splendid
hospitality which reigned in the metropolis during the sessions of
parliament. It was at length decided that the prize of his unrivalled
wit and sociability should be determined by lot. O'Leary was an amused
and silent spectator of the contest. The fortunate winner was
congratulated on his success; and the rivals separated to meet on the
morrow.
When the hour of dinner was come, O'Leary forgot which of his three
friends was to be his host.
It was too late to make formal inquiries; and, as he was the honored
guest, he dared not absent himself. In this difficulty, his ready
imagination suggested an expedient. His friends, he recollected, lived
in the same square, and he therefore, some short time after the usual
dinner hour, sent a servant to inquire at each of the houses--'if Father
O'Leary was there?' At the two first, where application was made, the
reply was in the negative; but at the last, the porter answered, that
'he was not there; but that dinner was ordered to be kept back, as he
was every moment expected.' Thus directed, 'Father Arthur's' apology for
delay was a humorous and detailed account of his expedient--the evening
flew quickly away on the wings of eloquence and wit, and the laughable
incident was long remembered and frequently repeated.
* * * * *
Father O'Leary's great intimacy with the leading Protestants of London,
gave rise to a rumor that he, like Lord Dunboyne and Mr. Kirwin, had
read his recantation. He contradicts it in the following letter:--
"_London, June_ 5, 1790.
"Sir--A confusion of names gave rise, some months ago, to a
mistake copied from the _Dublin Evening Post_ into the _Bath Chronicle_,
and other papers in this kingdom, viz., that 'I had read my recantation
in St. Werburgh's church in Dublin.' Thus a mistake has changed me into
a conformist, though I never changed my creed.
"If in reality the tenets of my Church were such as prejudice and
ignorance proclaim them:--if they taught me that a papal dispensation
could sanctify guilt, sanction conspiracies, murders, the extirpation of
my fellow-creatures on account of difference of religious opinions,
perjury to promote the Catholic cause, by pious breaches of allegiance
to Protestant kings, or rebellion against their government;--if it were
an article of my belief that a priestly absolution without sorrow for my
sins, or a resolution of amendment, had the power of a charm to reclaim
me to the state of unoffending infancy, and enable me, like Milton's
devil, to leap from the gulf of sin into paradise without purifying my
heart or changing my affections;--if it were an article of my faith that
the grace of an indulgence could give me the extraordinary privilege of
sinning without guilt or offending without punishment;--if it inculcated
any maxim evasive of moral rectitude:--in a word, if the features of my
religion corresponded with the pictures drawn of it in flying pamphlets
and anniversary declamations, I would consider myself and the rest of my
fraternity as downright idiots, wickedly stupid, to remain one hour in a
state which deprives us of our rights as citizens, whereas such an
accommodating scheme would make them not only attainable, but certain.
"Your correspondent does me the honor to rank me with Lord Dunboyne,
formerly titular Bishop of Cork, and with Mr. Kirwan. If they have
changed their religion from a thorough conviction of its falsehood,
they have done well. It is the duty of every sincere admirer after truth
to comply with the immediate dictates of his conscience, in embracing
that religion which he believes most acceptable to God. Deplorable,
indeed, must be the state of the man who lives in wilful error. For,
however an all-wise God may hereafter dispose of those who err in their
honesty, and whose error, is involuntary and invincible, surely no road
can be right to the wretch who walks in it against conviction. A
thorough conviction, then, that I am in the right road to eternal life,
if my moral conduct corresponds with my speculative belief, keeps me
within the pale of my Church in direct opposition to my temporal
interest; and no Protestant nobleman or gentleman of my acquaintance
esteems me the less for adhering to my creed, knowing that a Catholic
and an honest man are not contradictory terms.
"I do not consider Lord Dunboyne as a model after whom I should copy.
With his silver locks, and at an age when persons who had devoted
themselves to the service of the altar in their early days, should, like
the Emperor Charles V, rather think of their coffins than the nuptial
couch, that prelate married a young woman. Whether the glowing love of
truth or Hymen's torch induced him to change the Roman Pontifical for
the Book of Common Prayer, and the psalms he and I often sang together
for a bridal hymn, his own conscience is the most competent to
determine: certain however, it is, that, if the charms of the fair sex
can captivate an old bishop to such a degree as to induce him to
renounce his Breviary, similar motives, and the prospect of
aggrandizement, may induce a young ecclesiastic to change his cassock.
"Having from my early days accustomed myself to get the mastery over
ambition and love--the two passions that in every age have enslaved the
greatest heroes--your correspondent may rest assured that I am not one
of the trio mentioned in this letter.--Arthur O'Leary."
O'LEARY AND THE RECTOR.
A Protestant rector invited O'Leary to see his parish church, a building
remarkable for its architectural beauty. While the friar was viewing the
building, the rector thought he was contrasting its nakedness with the
interior beauty of the Roman Catholic churches, and observed: "You
perceive, Mr. O'Leary," said he, "that, different from you, we are very
sparing of ornaments in our churches; we have neither paintings nor
statuary to attract the worshipper's attention." "Ah!" replied O'Leary,
with an arch smile, "you are _young housekeepers_, you know."
LADY MORGAN.
Lady Morgan, in her "Wild Irish Girl," speaking of "Father John,"
chaplain of the Prince of Coolavin, says:--"Father John was modelled on
the character of the Dean of Sligo, Dr. Flynn, one of those learned,
liberal, and accomplished gentlemen of the Irish Catholic hierarchy of
that day, whom foreign travel and education, and consequent intercourse
with European society and opinions, sent back to Ireland for its
advantage and illustration, thus turning the penalties of its shallow
and jealous government into a national benefit. At the head of this
distinguished order stood the illustrious Father O'Leary, the Catholic
Dean Swift of his time, the champion of peace, and the eloquent preacher
of Christian charity. His noble works live to attest his fitness to
counsel his country for her good, while his brilliant wit kept up her
reputation for that splendid gift which penal statutes can neither give
nor take away."
A BATCH OF INTERESTING ANECDOTES.
In his "Personal Sketches," Sir Jonah Barrington gives us a portrait of
Father O'Leary:--
"I frequently had an opportunity of meeting at my father-in-law Mr.
Grogan's, where he often dined, a most worthy priest, Father O'Leary,
and have listened frequently, with great zest, to anecdotes which he
used to tell with a quaint yet spirited humor, quite unique. His manner,
his air, his countenance, all bespoke wit, talent, and a good heart. I
liked his company excessively, and have often regretted I did not
cultivate his acquaintance more, or recollect his witticisms better. It
was singular, but it was a fact, that even before Father O'Leary opened
his lips, a stranger would say, 'That is an Irishman,' and, at the same
time, guess him to be a priest.
"One anecdote in particular I remember. Coming from St. Omers, he told
us, he stopped a few days to visit a brother-priest in the town of
Boulogne-sur-Mer. Here he heard of a great curiosity, which all people
were running to see--curious bear that some fishermen had taken at sea
out of a wreck; it had sense, and attempted to utter a sort of _lingo_,
which they called _patois_, but which nobody understood.
"O'Leary gave his six sous to see the wonder which was shown at the port
by candle-light, and was a very odd kind of animal, no doubt. The bear
had been taught a hundred tricks, all to be performed at the keeper's
word of command. It was late in the evening when O'Leary saw him, and
the bear seemed sulky; the keeper, however, with a short spike fixed at
the end of a pole, made him move about briskly. He marked on sand what
o'clock it was, with his paw; and distinguished the men and women in a
very comical way: in fact, our priest was quite diverted. The beast at
length grew tired--the keeper hit him with the pole--he stirred a
little, but continued quite sullen; his master coaxed him--no! he would
not work! At length, the brute of a keeper gave him two or three sharp
pricks with the goad, when he roared out most tremendously, and rising
on his hind-legs, swore at his tormentors in very good native Irish.
O'Leary waited no longer, but went immediately to the mayor, whom he
informed that the blackguard fishermen had sewed up a poor Irishman in a
bear's-skin, and were showing him about for six sous! The civic
dignitary, who had himself seen the bear, would not believe our friend.
At last, O'Leary prevailed on him to accompany him to the room. On their
arrival, the bear was still on duty, and O'Leary stepped up to him,
says:--'_Cianos tha'n thu, a Phadhrig_?' (How d'ye do, Pat?) '_Slan, go
raimh math agut_!' (Pretty well, thank you,) says the bear. The people
were surprised to hear how plainly he spoke--but the mayor ordered him
directly to be ripped up; and after some opposition, and a good deal of
difficulty, Pat stepped forth stark naked out of the bear's-skin wherein
he had been fourteen or fifteen days most cleverly stitched. The women
made off--the men stood astonished--and the mayor ordered his keepers to
be put in goal unless they satisfied him; but that was presently done.
The bear afterwards told O'Leary that he was very well fed, and did not
care much about the clothing; only they worked him too hard: the
fishermen had found him at sea on a hencoop, which had saved him from
going to the bottom, with a ship wherein he had a little venture of
dried cod from Dungarvan, and which was bound from Waterford to Bilboa.
He could not speak a word of any language but Irish, and had never been
at sea before: the fishermen had brought him in, fed him well, and
endeavored to repay themselves by showing him as a curiosity.
"O'Leary's mode of telling this story was quite admirable. I never heard
any anecdote (and I believe this one to be true) related with such
genuine drollery, which was enhanced by his not changing a muscle
himself, while every one of his hearers was in a paroxysm of laughter.
"Another anecdote he used to tell with incomparable dramatic humor. By
the bye, all his stories were somehow national; and this gives me
occasion to remark, that I think Ireland is, at this moment, as little
known in many parts of the Continent as it seems to have been then. I
have myself heard it more than once spoken of as an _English town_. At
Nancy, where Father O'Leary was travelling, his native country happened
to be mentioned when one of the party, a quiet French farmer of
Burgundy, asked, in an unassuming tone, 'If Ireland stood _encore_?'
'Encore,' said an astonished John Bull, a courier coming from
Germany--'encore! to be sure she does; we have her yet, I assure you,
monsieur.' 'Though neither very safe, nor very sound,' interposed an
officer of the Irish Brigade, who happened to be present, looking very
significantly at O'Leary, and not very complacently at the courier. 'And
pray, monsieur,' rejoined John Bull to the Frenchman, 'why _encore_?'
'_Pardon, monsieur_,' replied the Frenchman, 'I heard it had been worn
out (_fatigue_) long ago, by the great number of people that were living
in it.' The fact is, the Frenchman had been told, and really understood,
that Ireland was a large house, where the English were wont to send
their idle vagabonds, and from whence they were drawn out again, as they
were wanted, to fill the ranks of the army."
A DOG'S RELIGION.
One day, while walking in the suburbs of the city of Cork, he met the
Rev. Mr. Flack, a Protestant clergyman, and Mr. Solomons, a Jew--both
friends of his Mr. Flack's dog was running on before them. "Good
morrow, friends," said O'Leary. "Well, what interesting topic engages
your attention now?" "To be candid with you," replied the clergyman, "we
were just conjecturing what religion this dog of mine would be likely to
embrace, if it were possible for him to choose." "Strange subject,
indeed," said O'Leary; "but were I to offer an opinion, I would venture
to say he would become a Protestant!" "How," asked the Protestant
clergyman and the Jew. "Why," replied O'Leary, "he would not be a Jew,
for, you know, he would retain his passion for pork: he would not become
a Catholic, for I am quite certain he would eat meat on a Friday. What
religion, then, could he become, but a Protestant!"
HOWARD, THE PHILANTHROPIST, AND MR. HENRY SHEARS.
"About this time it was," says his biographer, "that the philanthropist
Howard, led by his benevolent enthusiasm to fathom dungeons, vindicate
the wrongs, and alleviate the sufferings of the lonely and forgotten
victim of vice and crime, arrived at Cork. A society had for some years
existed in that city 'for the relief and discharge of persons confined
for small debts,' of which O'Leary was an active and conspicuous member.
This association had its origin in the humane mind of Henry Shears,
Esq., the father of two distinguished victims to the political
distractions of their country in 1798: and a literary production of that
gentleman, which in its style and matter emulated the elegance and
morality of Addison, strengthened and matured the benevolent
institution. During Mr. Howard's stay in Cork, he was introduced to
O'Leary by their common friend, Archdeacon Austen. Two such minds
required but an opportunity to admire and venerate each other; and
frequently, in after times, Howard boasted of sharing the friendship and
esteem of the friar."
HIS HABITS OF STUDY--HIS INFLUENCE.