which the active duties of the ministry subjected O'Leary, he still
indulged his usual habits of study. No unexpected visitor ever found him
unoccupied: his reading was extensive, profound, and incessant; and his
hours of silence and retreat as many as he could abstract from the
necessary and inevitable claim of his flock, or could deny to the kind
importunity of his numerous and respectable acquaintance. Few men ever
possessed the power of enjoying an extensive influence over public
opinion more than O'Leary. Every thing he said or wrote was by every one
admired. The wise and learned were delighted with the original and
correct views which he took of every subject that employed his mind;
whilst the amiable simplicity of his manners, the endearing kindness of
his disposition, and the worth, purity, and uprightness of his life and
conduct, were claims to regard that could neither be denied nor
unattended to. It is, therefore, to be lamented that such transcendent
faculties should have remained suspended or inactive, or been, for a
moment, diverted in their application from their appropriate object or
natural sphere--the moral correction of the age."
EDMOND BURKE.
On Father O'Leary's arrival in London he was anxiously sought after by
his countrymen residing in that capital, who all felt gratified by
every opportunity which offered itself, of paying respect to one who had
done so much honor to religion and their country. Mr. Edmond Burke was
very marked in the regard which he manifested to O'Leary.--It was, in
fact, impossible, after an evening spent in his society, not to seek at
every future opportunity a renewal of the delight which his wit,
pleasantly, and wisdom afforded.
HIS CHARITY.
Like Dean Swift, Father O'Leary relieved, every Monday morning, a number
of reduced roomkeepers and working men. The average of his weekly
charity amounted to two, sometimes three pounds--though he had no income
except that derived from the contributions of those who frequented the
poor Capuchin little chapel.
* * * * *
After the publication of his "Essay on Toleration," Father O'Leary was
elected a member of the "Monks of St. Patrick," which took its rise
under the auspices of that great lawyer, Lord Avonmore, then Mr.
Yelverton. As a return for the honor thus conferred on him, he expressed
his gratitude in the dedication of his various productions, which he
collected together, and published in 1781.
* * * * *
At one of the meetings of the English Catholic Board, whilst O'Leary was
addressing the chairman, the late Lord Petre, it was suggested by the
noble president that the speaker was entering on topics not calculated
to promote the unanimity of the assembly. O'Leary, however, persevered:
on which Lord Petre interrupted him, adding, "Mr. O'Leary, I regret much
to see that you are _out of order_." The reply was equally quick and
characteristic--"I thank you for your anxiety, my lord; but I assure you
_I never was in letter health in my life_." The archness of manner with
which these words were uttered was triumphant, and every unpleasant
feeling was lost in the mirth which was necessarily excited.
O'LEARY VERSUS CURRAN.
In the "Reminiscences" of the celebrated singer and composer, Michael
Kelly, the following interesting anecdotes are given: "I had the
pleasure to be introduced to my worthy countryman, the Rev. Father
O'Leary, the well-known Roman Catholic priest; he was a man of infinite
wit, of instructing and amusing conversation. I felt highly honored by
the notice of this pillar of the Roman Church; our tastes were
congenial, for his reverence was mighty fond of whisky-punch, and so was
I; and many a jug of Saint Patrick's eye-water, night after night, did
his Reverence and myself enjoy, chatting over the exhilarating and
national beverage. He sometimes favored me with his company at dinner;
when he did, I always had a corned shoulder of mutton for him, for he,
like some others of his countrymen who shall be nameless, was
marvellously fond of that dish.
"One day the facetious John Philpot Curran, who was very partial to the
said corned mutton, did me the honor to meet him. To enjoy the society
of such men was an intellectual treat. They were great friends, and
seemed to have a mutual respect for each other's talents and, as it may
be easily imagined, O'Leary versus Curran was no bad match.
"One day, after dinner, Curran said to him, 'Reverend father, I wish you
were Saint Peter.'
"'And why, Counsellor, would you wish that I were Saint Peter?' asked
O'Leary.
"'Because, reverend father, in that case,' said Curran, 'you would have
the keys of heaven, and you could _let me in_.'
"'By my honor and conscience, Counsellor,' replied the divine, 'it would
be better for you if I had the keys of the other place, for then I could
_let you out_' Curran enjoyed the joke, which, he admitted, had a good
deal of justice in it."
HIS TRIUMPH OVER DR. JOHNSON.
"O'Leary told us of a whimsical triumph which he once enjoyed over the
celebrated Dr. Johnson. O'Leary was very anxious to be introduced to
that learned man, and Mr. Arthur Murphy took him one morning to the
doctor's lodgings. On his entering the room, the doctor viewed him from
top to toe, without taking any notice of him; and, at length, darting
one of his sourest looks at him, he spoke to him in the Hebrew language,
to which O'Leary made no reply. 'Why do you not answer me, sir?' 'Faith,
sir,' said O'Leary, 'because I don't understand the language in which
you are addressing me.' Upon this, the doctor, with a contemptuous
sneer, said to Murphy, 'Why, sir, this is a pretty fellow you have
brought hither. Sir, he does not comprehend the primitive language.'
O'Leary immediately bowed very low, and complimented the doctor in a
long speech in Irish, to which the doctor, not understanding a word,
made no reply, but looked at Murphy. O'Leary, seeing the doctor was
puzzled at hearing a language of which he was ignorant, said to Murphy,
pointing to the doctor, 'This is a pretty fellow to whom you have
brought me. Sir, he does not understand the language of the sister
kingdom.' The reverend _padre_ then made another low bow, and quitted
the room."
A NOLLE PROSEQUI.
At the time that Barry Yelverton was Attorney-General, himself and
O'Leary, while enjoying the beauties of Killarney, had the rare fortune
to witness a staghunt. The hunted animal ran towards the spot where the
Attorney-General and O'Leary stood. "Ah!" said Father Arthur, with
genuine wit, "how naturally instinct leads him to come to you, that you
may deliver him by a _nolle prosequi_!"
THE PRINCE OF WALES.
George the Fourth, when Prince of Wales, frequently had as guests at his
table Sheridan, Grattan, Curran, Flood, and Father O'Leary. Croly, in
his "Life of George the Fourth," says--"An occasional guest, and a
sufficiently singular one, was an Irish Franciscan, Arthur O'Leary, a
man of strong faculties and considerable knowledge. His first celebrity
was as a pamphleteer, in a long battle with Woodward, the able Bishop of
Cloyne, in Ireland.--O'Leary abounded in Irish anecdote, and was a
master of pleasant humor.
"Sheridan said that he considered claret the true parliamentary wine for
the peerage, for it might make a man sleepy or sick, but it never warmed
his heart, or stirred up his brains. Port, generous port, was for the
Commons--it was for the business of life--it quickened the circulation
and fancy together. For his part, he never felt that he spoke as he
liked, until after a couple of bottles. O'Leary observed, that this was
like a _porter_; he never could go steady without a _load_ on his
head."
THE CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE.
"The disturbances," says his biographer, "by which Ireland was convulsed
in 1798 pained O'Leary's mind. The efforts made by the tools of a base
faction, to give the tinge of religious fanaticism to the political
distractions of that country, excited his indignation; and, as his name
had been wantonly and insultingly introduced by Sir Richard Musgrave, in
his libellous compilation on the Irish Rebellions, he entertained the
notion of publishing a refutation of the calumnies which had been so
industriously circulated against the Catholics, not only in that
scandalous work, but likewise in various other historical essays at that
time. For this purpose O'Leary had prepared some very valuable
manuscript collections: he looked back to the history of the earlier
periods of the English rule in Ireland; and from his friends in various
parts of that kingdom he procured authentic details of the
insurrectionary disturbances: impartiality was his object; and he left
no means untried to collect the most voluminous and exact account of
every circumstance connected with, or immediately arising out of, the
rebellion, the history of which he ultimately declared it his design to
publish.
"The progress of disease, and the rapidly increasing infirmities of old
age, hindered the fulfilment of O'Leary's wishes: he was unable to
proceed into any part of the task of composition, but he was relieved
from anxiety by the fortunate circumstance of his intimacy with Francis
Plowden Esq., whose historical review of Ireland, and whose subsequent
publication in defence of that country, have raised him to a rank
amongst historians, honorably and deservedly conspicuous. When O'Leary
learned that his friend was engaged, at the desire of Mr. Pitt, in
writing the 'Historical Review,' he sent him his invaluable collections,
as affording the best and most authentic materials for the recent
history of Ireland; and the manner in which the documents, thus
furnished, were applied to the purposes of truth, must have given
gratification to O'Leary's mind, had he lived long enough to witness
this successful vindication of his country and religion. His descent to
the grave was too rapid to afford him that pleasure; and it was not
till it had closed over his remains, that the world was gratified with
the best and most authentic work ever published on the political history
of Ireland.
"We approach now to the last scene of O'Leary's busy life; and it is one
which, like too many others, preaches to mankind the necessity of being
always prepared for the unrevealed hour that shall terminate mortal
existence.
"Towards the end of the year 1801, ill health shed a gloom over his
mind, to which the consciousness of approaching dissolution gave
facilities and permanency. His contests with bad men had been frequent;
and the frailties and follies of the world, and the instability of
human friendship, which he had often experienced, haunted his mind at
this time to a degree that was painful for those who loved and revered
him, to witness. His medical friends tried the resources of their
professional skill for the alleviation of his disease in vain; and as a
last prescription, they recommended to him a short residence in the
south of France, as calculated, if any thing could, to revive his
spirits and restore his health. Agreeably to this advice, in company
with Mr. M'Grath, a medical friend, to whose kindness he was much
indebted, he proceeded to France; but his hopes of relief were
disappointed, and he shortly determined on returning to London. The
state in which he found society in France--so different from what it had
been, when he first visited 'the lovely, fertile south,' shocked him;
and he uttered his opinion of the change which he witnessed, by saying,
emphatically, 'that there was not now a _gentleman_ in all France.'
"His arrival in London was on the 7th of January, 1802. It was his
intention to have landed at Dover; but tempestuous weather compelled the
vessel in which he was to land at Ramsgate. The effects of this voyage
tended to hasten his death, which took place the morning after his
arrival in London, in the 73rd year of his age."
DANIEL O'CONNELL.
DARBY MORAN.
O'Connell in his celebrated speech in defence of the Rev. T. Maguire,
relates the following story, in which the reader will not fail to
perceive the little chance which perjury had in escaping his
detection:--
"Allow me," said he, addressing the Court, "to tell you a story, which
is not the worse for being perfectly true. I was assessor of the Sheriff
at an election in the county of Clare; a freeholder came to vote under
the name of Darby Moran, and as Darby Moran both his signature and mark
were attached to the certificate of Registry. He, of course, was
objected to. It was insisted that if he was illiterate, he could not
have written his name--if literate, he should not have added his mark;
in either view it was contended, with the vehemence suited to such
occasions, that his registry was bad. It is, wherever I have authority
to adjudicate, a rule with me to decide as few abstract propositions as
I possibly can. I therefore resolved first to ascertain the fact whether
Darby Moran could write or not. I accordingly gave him paper, and asked
him could he write his name. He flippantly answered that he could, and
in my presence instantly wrote down 'John O'Brien'--he totally forgot
that he was playing Darby Moran. Thus this trick was exposed and
defeated."
A DEAD MAN WITH LIFE IN HIM.
It was difficult for O'Connell, even at an advanced period of his
professional career, to exhibit those powers as an advocate, which were
afterwards so finely developed; for the silk gown that encased inferior
merit gave a precedence to Protestant lawyers of even younger standing,
and he rarely had an opportunity of addressing a jury. This probably
induced him to cultivate with more ardor a talent for cross-examination,
which was unquestionably unrivalled, and which was displayed by him at a
very early period.
It exhibited itself very strongly in a trial on the Munster Circuit, in
which the question was, the validity of a will, by which property to
some amount was devised, and which the plaintiffs alleged was forged.
The subscribing witnesses swore that the deceased signed the will while
_life was in him_.
The evidence was going strong in favor of the will--at last O'Connell
undertook to cross-examine one of the witnesses. He shrewdly observed
that he was particular in swearing several times that "life was in the
testator when the will was signed," and that he saw his hand sign it.
"By virtue of your oath was he alive," said Mr. O'Connell.
"By virtue of my oath, _life was in him_;" and this the witness repeated
several times.
"Now," continued O'Connell, with great solemnity, and assuming an air of
inspiration--"I call on you, in presence of your Maker, before whom you
must one day be judged for the evidence you give here to-day, I solemnly
ask--and answer me at your peril--was it not a live fly that was in the
dead man's mouth when his hand was placed on the will?"
'The witness fell instantaneously on his knees, and acknowledged it was
so, and that the fly was placed in the mouth of deceased to enable the
witnesses to swear _that life was in him_.
The intuitive quickness with which O'Connell conjectured the cause of
the fellow's always swearing that "life was in him," obtained for him
the admiration of every one in Court, and very materially assisted in
securing his professional success.
A YOUNG JUDGE DONE.
In the course of his attendance at an Assizes in Cork, he was counsel in
a case in which his client was capitally charged, and was so little
likely to escape, and was actually so guilty of the crime, that his
attorney considered the case utterly desperate.
O'Connell entered the Court aware of the hopelessness of his client's
chances. He knew it was useless to attempt a defence in the ordinary
way. There was evidence sufficient to ensure a conviction. At that time
it happened that the present Chief Justice, then Sergeant, Lefroy
presided, in the absence of one of the judges who had fallen ill.
O'Connell understood the sort of man he had on the Bench. He opened the
defence by putting to the first witness a number of the most illegal
questions. He, of course, knew they were illegal, and that objections
would be raised.
Sergeant Goold was the crown prosecutor, and he started up, and
expressed his objections. The learned Chief Justice declared his
concurrence, and decided peremptorily that he could not allow Mr.
O'Connell to proceed with his line of examination.
"Well, then, my lord," said O'Connell, after a little expostulation, "as
you refuse permitting me to defend my client, I leave his fate in your
hands;" and he flung his brief from him, adding, as he turned away, "the
blood of that man, my lord, will be on your head, if he is condemned."
O'Connell then left the Court. In half-an-hour afterwards, as he was
walking on the flagway outside, the attorney for the defence ran out to
him without his hat. "Well," said O'Connell, "he is found guilty?" "No,
sir," answered the solicitor, "he has been acquitted." O'Connell is said
to have smiled meaningly on the occasion, as if he had anticipated the
effect of the _ruse_; for it was a _ruse_ he had recourse to, in order
to save the unfortunate culprit's life. He knew that flinging the onus
on a young and a raw judge could be the only chance for his client. The
judge did take up the case O'Connell had ostensibly, in a pet,
abandoned. The witnesses were successively cross-examined by the judge
himself. He conceived a prejudice in favor of the accused. He, perhaps,
had a natural timidity of incurring the responsibility thrown on him by
O'Connell. He charged the jury in the prisoner's favor, and the
consequence was, the unexpected acquittal of the prisoner. "_I knew_,"
said O'Connell afterwards, "the only chance was to throw the
responsibility on the judge."
O'CONNELL AND A SNARLING ATTORNEY.
O'Connell could be seen to greatest advantage in an Irish court of
justice. There he displayed every quality of the lawyer and the
advocate. He showed perfect mastery of his profession, and he exhibited
his own great and innate qualities. Who that ever beheld him on the
Munster circuit, when he was in the height of his fame, but must have
admired his prodigious versatility of formidable powers. His pathos was
often admirable--his humor flowed without effort or art. What jokes he
uttered!--what sarcasms! How well he worked his case, never throwing
away a chance, never relaxing his untiring energies. How he disposed of
a pugnacious attorney may be gathered from the following:--
"For a round volley of abusive epithets nobody could surpass him. One of
his droll comic sentences was often worth a speech of an hour in putting
down an opponent, or in gaining supporters to his side. At _Nisi Prius_,
he turned his mingled talent for abuse and drollery to great effect. He
covered a witness with ridicule, or made a cause so ludicrous, that the
real grounds of complaint became invested with absurdity.
"One of the best things he ever said was in an assize-town on the
Munster circuit. The attorney of the side opposite to that on which
O'Connell was retained, was a gentleman remarkable for his combative
qualities; delighted in being in a fight, and was foremost in many of
the political scenes of excitement in his native town. His person was
indicative of his disposition. His face was bold, menacing, and scornful
in its expression. He had stamped on him the defiance and resolution of
a pugilist. Upon either temple there stood erect a lock of hair, which
no brush could smooth down. These locks looked like horns, and added to
the combative expression of his countenance. He was fiery in his nature,
excessively spirited, and ejaculated, rather than spoke to an audience;
his speeches consisting of a series of short, hissing, spluttering
sentences, by no means devoid of talent of a certain kind. Add to all
this, that the gentleman was an Irish Attorney, and an Orangeman, and
the reader may easily suppose that he was 'a character!'
"Upon the occasion referred to, this gentleman gave repeated annoyance to
O'Connell--by interrupting him in the progress of the cause--by speaking
to the witnesses--and by interfering in a manner altogether improper,
and unwarranted by legal custom. But it was no easy matter to make the
combative attorney hold his peace--he, too, was an agitator in his own
fashion. In vain did the counsel engaged with O'Connell in the cause
sternly rebuke him; in vain did the judge admonish him to remain quiet;
up he would jump, interrupting the proceedings, hissing out his angry
remarks and vociferations with vehemence. While O'Connell was in the act
of pressing a most important question he jumped up again, undismayed,
solely for the purpose of interruption. O'Connell, losing all patience,
suddenly turned round, and, scowling at the disturber, shouted in a
voice of thunder--'Sit down, you audacious, snarling, pugnacious
ram-cat.' Scarcely had the words fallen from his lips, when roars of
laughter rang through the court. The judge himself laughed outright at
the happy and humorous description of the combative attorney, who, pale
with passion, gasped in inarticulate rage. The name of _ram-cat_ struck
to him through all his life."
HIS ENCOUNTER WITH BIDDY MORIARTY.
One of the drollest scenes of vituperation that O'Connell ever figured
in took place in the early part of his life. Not long after he was
called to the bar, his character and peculiar talents received rapid
recognition from all who were even casually acquainted with him. His
talent for vituperative language was perceived, and by some he was, even
in those days, considered matchless as a scold.
There was, however, at that time in Dublin, a certain woman, Biddy
Moriarty, who had a huckster's stall on one of the quays nearly opposite
the Four Courts. She was a virago of the first order, very able with her
fist, and still more formidable with her tongue. From one end of Dublin
to the other she was notorious for her powers of abuse, and even in the
provinces Mrs. Moriarty's language had passed into currency. The
dictionary of Dublin slang had been considerably enlarged by her, and
her voluble impudence had almost become proverbial. Some of O'Connell's
friends, however, thought that he could beat her at the use of her own
weapons. Of this, however, he had some doubts himself, when he had
listened once or twice to some minor specimens of her Billingsgate. It
was mooted once, whether the young Kerry barrister could encounter her,
and some one of the company (in O'Connell's presence) rather too freely
ridiculed the idea of his being able to meet the famous Madam Moriarty.
O'Connell never liked the idea of being put down, and he professed his
readiness to encounter her, and even backed himself for the match. Bets
were offered and taken--it was decided that the match should come off at
once.
The party adjourned to the huckster's stall, and there was the owner
herself, superintending the sale of her small wares--a few loungers and
ragged idlers were hanging round her stall--for Biddy was 'a character,'
and, in her way, was one of the sights of Dublin.
O'Connell was very confident of success. He had laid an ingenious plan
for overcoming her, and, with all the anxiety of an ardent
experimentalist, waited to put it into practice. He resolved to open the
attack. At this time O'Connell's own party, and the loungers about the
place, formed an audience quite sufficient to rouse Mrs. Moriarty, on
public provocation, to a due exhibition of her powers. O'Connell
commenced the attack:--
"What's the price of this walking-stick, Mrs. What's-your-Name?"
"Moriarty, sir, is my name, and a good one it is; and what have you to
say agen it? and one-and-sixpence's the price of the stick. Troth, it's
chape as dirt--so it is."
"One-and-sixpence for a walking-stick? whew! why, you are know no better
than an impostor, to ask eighteen pence for what cost you twopence."
"Twopence, your grandmother!" replied Mrs. Biddy: "do you mane to say
that it's chating the people I am?--impostor, indeed!"
"Aye, impostor; and it's that I call you to your teeth," rejoined
O'Connell.
"Come cut your stick, you cantankerous jackanapes."
"Keep a civil tongue in your head, you old _diagonal_," cried O'Connell,
calmly.
"Stop your jaw, you pug-nosed badger, or by this and that," cried Mrs.
Moriarty, "I'll make you go quicker nor you came."
"Don't be in a passion, my old _radius_--anger will only wrinkle your
beauty."
"By the hokey, if you say another word of impudence I'll tan your dirty
hide, you bastely common scrub; and sorry I'd be to soil my fists upon
your carcase."
"Whew! boys, what a passion old Biddy is in; I protest, as I'm a
gentleman----"