bangs Banagher. Why, you potato-faced pippin-sneezer, when did a
Madagascar monkey like you pick enough of common Christian dacency to
hide your Kerry brogue?"
"Easy, now--easy, now," cried O'Connell, with imperturbable good humor,
"don't choke yourself with fine language, you old whiskey-drinking
_parallelogram_."
"What's that you call me, you murderin' villian?" roared Mrs. Moriarty,
stung to fury.
"I call you," answered O'Connell, "a parallelogram; and a Dublin judge
and jury will say that it's no libel to call you so!"
"Oh, tare-an-ouns! oh, holy Biddy! that on honest woman like me should
be called a parrybellygrum to her face. I'm none of your
parrybellygrums, you rascally gallowsbird; you cowardly, sneaking,
plate-lickin' bliggard!"
"Oh, not you, indeed!" retorted O'Connell; "why, I suppose you'll deny
that you keep a _hypothenuse_ in your house."
"It's a lie for you, you dirty robber, I never had such a thing in my
house, you swindling thief."
"Why, sure your neighbors all know very well that you keep not only a
hypothenuse, but that you have two _diameters_ locked up in your garret,
and that you go out to walk with them every Sunday, you heartless old
_heptagon_."
"Oh, hear that, ye saints in glory! Oh, there's bad language from a
fellow that wants to pass for a jintleman. May the divil fly away with
you, you micher from Munster, and make celery-sauce of your rotten
limbs, you mealy-mouthed tub of guts."
"Ah, you can't deny the charge, you miserable _submultiple_ of a
_duplicate ratio_."
"Go, rinse your mouth in the Liffey, you nasty tickle pitcher; after all
the bad words you speak, it ought to be filthier than your face, you
dirty chicken of Beelzebub."
"Rinse your own mouth, you wicked-minded old _polygon_--to the deuce I
pitch you, you blustering intersection of a stinking _superficies_!"
"You saucy tinker's apprentice, if you don't cease your jaw, I'll----"
But here she gasped for breath, unable to hawk up any more words, for
the last volley of O'Connell had nearly knocked the wind out of her.
"While I have a tongue I'll abuse you, you most inimitable _periphery_.
Look at her, boys! there she stands--a convicted _perpendicular_ in
petticoats. There's contamination in her _circumference_, and she
trembles with guilt down to the extremities of her _corollaries_. Ah!
you're found out, you _rectilineal antecedent_, and _equiangular_ old
hag! 'Tis with you the devil will fly away, you porter-swiping
_similitude_ of the _bisection of a vortex_!"
Overwhelmed with this torrent of language, Mrs. Moriarty was silenced.
Catching up a saucepan, she was aiming at O'Connell's head, when he very
prudently made a timely retreat.
"You have won the wager, O'Connell--here's your bet," cried the
gentleman who proposed the contest.
O'Connell knew well the use of sound in the vituperation, and having to
deal with an ignorant scold, determined to overcome her in volubility,
by using all the _sesquipedalia verba_ which occur in Euclid. With
these, and a few significant epithets, and a scoffing, impudent
demeanor, he had for once imposed silence on Biddy Moriarty.
O'CONNELL AND A BILKING CLIENT.
He used to lodge, when at Cork, at a stationer's of the name of O'Hara,
in Patrick-street, one of the principal thoroughfares of the city.
There, during the Assizes, there was always a crowd before his door,
lounging under his windows, anxious to get a peep at the Counsellor.
Whenever he made his appearance there was always a hearty cheer. On one
occasion, an old friend of his, who had once belonged to the bar, Mr.
K----, a member of a most respectable family, called on O'Connell during
the Assizes, to pay him a friendly visit. He found O'Connell engaged
with a shrewd-looking farmer, who was consulting him on a knotty case.
Heartily glad to see his old friend, O'Connell sprang forward, saying,
"My dear K----, I'm delighted to see you." The farmer, seeing the
visitor come in, cunningly took the opportunity of sneaking away. He had
got what he wanted--the opinion; but O'Connell had not got what _he_
wanted--the fee. O'Connell at once followed the farmer, who had got the
start by a flight of stairs. The rustic quickened his pace when he found
that the counsellor was in chase. O'Connell saw that he could not catch
the runaway client, who was now on the flight leading into the hall. He
leant over the bannister, and made a grasp at the farmer's collar, but,
instead of the collar, he caught the rustic's wig, which came away in
his hand. O'Connell gave a shout of laughter, and, quick as thought,
jumped in high spirits back to his room. "Hurrah! see, K----, I've got
the rascal's wig." Up went the window--
"Three cheers for the counsellor!--Long life to your honor. Arrah! isn't
he the man of the people."
"Ah! boys," said O'Connell, with glee, "look here what I've got for you!
Here's the wig of a rascal that has just bilked me of a fee."
Shouts of laughter rent the air, as the wig was pitched out, to undergo
a rapid process of radical reform at the hands of the mob. As the
wigless farmer made his appearance, he was received with groans of
derision, and was glad enough to escape with unbroken bones.
SOW-WEST AND THE WIGS.
The following humorous scene took place in the Court-house,
Green-street, Dublin:
The city of Dublin was often contested by Mr. John B. West--a
conservative barrister of no ordinary talents, whose early end caused
much regret. That gentleman was very heavy and clumsy in appearance, and
moved very awkwardly. Lord Plunket humorously called him _Sow_-West, a
name that adhered to him most tenaciously. O'Connell was opposed to West
on three or four different occasions. It is remarkable that the opening
scenes at the Dublin elections are conducted with far more decorum than
similar scenes in other parts of Ireland. All the masses are not
admitted indiscriminately to the Court where the hustings are
placed--the people are admitted by tickets, half of which are allotted
to each rival party. It is the interest of both parties to keep order,
and the candidates and their friends are therefore heard with tolerable
fairness. On the first day of a Dublin election, the most eloquent
members of either party come forward to uphold their favorite
principles.
On the occasion referred to, O'Connell, in addressing the people,
referred to the appearance of _Sow_-West, whom he humorously quizzed
upon the beauty of his appearance.
In reply Mr. West said, "Ah, my friends! it's all very well for Mr.
O'Connell to attack me upon my appearance; but I can tell you, if you
saw Mr. O'Connell without his wig, he does not present a face which is
much to boast of."
To the surprise of the spectators, no less than of Mr. West himself,
O'Connell walked across, pulled off his wig, stood close by West, and
cried out--"There, now, which of us is the better-looking--my wig is
off."
This sally of practical humor was received with bursts of laughter and
cheering. O'Connell looked admirably, exhibiting a skull which, for
volume and development, was not to be surpassed.
ELECTION AND RAILWAY DINNERS.
O'Connell's enormous appetite often excited surprise. He ate a
prodigious quantity, even for a man of such large frame. At one of the
Irish elections, he was greatly annoyed at his candidate being unseated
for a few months, by the blundering decision of the assessor. On the day
when the election terminated, O'Connell was engaged to dine with a Roman
Catholic priest, who piqued himself not a little on the honor of
entertaining the Liberator. The company assembled at the appointed hour,
much dispirited at the adverse turn which the election had taken at the
last moment. O'Connell himself was particularly angry, and chafed with
ill-temper at the blunder of the assessor, who would not even listen to
his arguments.
Dinner came on, and a turkey-pout smoked before the hospitable
clergyman. "Mr. O'Connell, what part of the fowl shall I help you to?"
cried the reverend host, with an air of _empressement_.
His ears were electrified by O'Connell's rejoinder--"Oh! hang it, cut it
through the middle, and give me half the bird!"
For an orator of a style so copious and diffuse, it was singular how
admirably laconic he could become when he chose. During dinner, while
occupied with the viands, he would express himself with the terseness
and condensation of Tacitus.
A railway company once gave a complimentary dinner at Kingstown, and
O'Connell, who had supported the Bill in the House of Commons, was
invited. The sea breeze on the Kingstown pier sharpened his appetite. He
had already partaken heartily of the second course, when one of the
directors, seeing O'Connell's plate nearly empty, asked--"Pray, sir,
what will you be helped to _next_?"
Hastily glancing at the dishes still untasted, O'Connell, with a full
mouth, answered--"Mutton--well done--and much of it."
SCENE AT KILLINEY.
O'Connell was a capital actor, and his dramatic delivery of a common
remark was often highly impressive. Many years since, he went down to
Kingstown, near Dublin, with a party, to visit a queen's ship-of-war,
which was then riding in the bay.
After having seen it, O'Connell proposed a walk to the top of Killiney
Hill. Breaking from the rest of his party, he ascended to the highest
point of the hill, in company with a young and real Irish patriot, whose
character was brimful of national enthusiasm. The day was fine, and the
view from the summit of the hill burst gloriously upon the sight. The
beautiful bay of Dublin, like a vast sheet of crystal, was at their
feet. The old city of Dublin stretched away to the west, and to the
north was the old promontory of Howth, jutting forth into the sea. To
the south were the Dublin and Wicklow mountains, enclosing the lovely
vale of Shanganah, rising picturesquely against the horizon. The scene
was beautiful, with all the varieties of sunlight and shadow.
O'Connell enjoyed it with nearly as much rapture as his youthful and
ardent companion, who broke forth--"It is all Ireland--oh! how
beautiful! Thank God, we see nothing English here. Everything we see is
Irish!"
His rapture was interrupted by O'Connell, gently laying his hand on his
shoulder, and pointing to the ship-of-war at anchor, as he
exclaimed--"_A speck of the British power_!"
The thought was electric. That speck, significantly pointed out by
O'Connell, suggested the whole painful history of his fatherland to the
memory of the ardent young Irishman.
AN INSOLENT JUDGE.
The judges themselves often came in for a share of his animadversions,
when he deemed their judicial or other conduct deserved public censure;
and when he pleaded as an advocate before them, their resentment
betrayed itself. Singular to say, his practice was never injuriously
affected by his boldness outside. Other men have suffered vitally from
the political or personal hostility of judges--Curran was one of them.
But O'Connell beat down the most formidable hatred, and compelled, by
the sheer force of legal and intellectual power, the bitterest and most
obstinate personal rancor to give way. He compelled pompous, despotic,
and hostile judges to yield. He could not be awed. If they were haughty,
he was proud. If they were malevolent, he was cuttingly sarcastic.
It happened that he was by at an argument in one of the courts of
Dublin, in the course of which a young Kerry attorney was called upon by
the opposing counsel, either to admit a statement as evidence, or to
hand in some documents he could legally detain. O'Connell was not
specially engaged. The discussion arose on a new trial motion--the issue
to go down to the Assizes. He did not interfere until the demand was
made on the attorney, but he then stood up and told him to make no
admission.
He was about to resume his seat, when the judge, Baron M'Cleland, said,
with a peculiar emphasis, "Mr. O'Connell, have you a _brief_ in this
case?"
"No, my lord, I have not; but I _will_ have one, when the case goes down
to the Assizes."
"When I," rejoined the judge, throwing himself back with an air of lofty
scorn, "was at the bar, it was not _my_ habit to anticipate briefs."
"When _you_ were at the bar," retorted O'Connell, "_I_ never chose _you_
for a model; and now that you are on the Bench, I shall not submit to
your dictation." Leaving his lordship to digest the retort, he took the
attorney by the arm, and walked him out of Court. In this way he dealt
with hostile judges.
A WITNESS CAJOLED.
O'Connell knew so intimately the habits and character of the humbler
class, that he was able, by cajolery or intimidation, to coerce them,
when on the table, into truth-telling. He was once examining a witness,
whose inebriety, at the time to which the evidence referred, it was
essential to his client's case to prove. He quickly discovered the man's
character. He was a fellow who may be described as "half foolish with
roguery."
"Well, Darby," said the Counsellor, taking him on the cross-examination,
"you told the whole truth to that gentleman?" pointing to the counsel
who had just examined the witness.
"Yes, your honor, Counsellor O'Connell."
"How, do you know my name?"
"Ah, sure every one knows our own _pathriot_"
"Well, you are a good-humored, honest fellow Now, tell me, Darby, did you
take a drop of anything that day?"
"Why, your honor, I took my share of a pint of spirits."
"Your share of it; now by virtue of your oath, was not your share of it
_all but the pewter_?"
"Why, then, dear knows, that's true for you, sir."
The Court was convulsed at both question and answer. It soon came out
that the man was drunk, and was not, therefore, a competent witness.
Thus O'Connell won the case for his client.
HIS DUEL WITH CAPTAIN D'ESTERRE.
When O'Connell found the Government determined to strain the Convention
Act to the utmost, and not permit the existence of any delegated
committee for the management of Catholic affairs, he issued circulars to
a number of gentlemen to meet him, as individuals, in Capel-street. From
that circular arose the Catholic Association.
It was at one of the early meetings of this body that he called the
municipal functionaries of Dublin, "a beggarly Corporation." He had
become exceedingly obnoxious to the Orange party. He was an object of
intense hatred within the precincts of the Castle. To get rid of such a
man would be an invaluable service. The _insult_ he had put on the
_immaculate_ and _wealthy_ Corporation, offered too inviting an
opportunity to be passed over. A champion of Ascendancy appeared in the
person of Captain D'Esterre.
On the 1st of February, 1815, nearly eleven days after the insult was
received, and eight days after explanation was demanded and refused,
this misled gentleman was advised to send a message. He addressed a
letter in the following words:--
"Sir--_Carrick's Paper_, of the 23rd instant, in its Report of the
Debates of a Meeting of the Catholic Gentlemen, on the subject of a
Petition, states that you applied the appellation of _Beggarly_, to the
Corporation of this City, _calling it a beggarly Corporation_; and,
therefore, as a member of that body, and feeling how painful such is, I
beg leave to inquire whether you really used or expressed yourself in
such language.
"I feel the more justified in calling on you on this occasion, as such
language was not warranted or provoked by any thing on the part of the
Corporation; neither was it consistent with the subject of your Debate,
or the deportment of the other Catholic gentlemen, who were present;
and, though I view it so inconsistent in every respect, I am in hopes
the Editor is under error, not you.
"I have further to request your reply in the course of the evening--and
remain, Sir, your obedient servant,
"J. N. D'ESTERRE,
"11 Bachelor's-walk, 26th Jan. 1815.
"To Counsellor O'Connell, Merrion-square."
* * * * *
"Sir--In reply to your letter of yesterday, and without either admitting
or disclaiming the expression respecting the Corporation of Dublin, in
the print to which you allude, I deem it right to inform you, that, from
the calumnious manner in which the religion and character of the
Catholics of Ireland are treated in that body, no terms attributed to
me, however reproachful, can exceed the contemptuous feelings I
entertain for that body in its corporate capacity--although, doubtless,
it contains many valuable persons, whose conduct, as individuals (I
lament), must necessarily be confounded in the acts of the general body.
"I have only to add, _that this Letter must dose our Correspondence on
this subject_.--I am, &c., &c.,
"DANIEL O'CONNELL.
"Merrion-square, January 27, 1815.
"To J. N. D'Esterre, Esq.,
11 Bachelors-walk, Dublin."
Mr. D'Esterre was advised to persist in the correspondence, and
addressed another letter (but directed in a different hand-writing), to
Mr. O'Connell. It was returned to him by Mr. James O'Connell, inclosed
in a letter couched in the following terms:--
"Sir--From the tenor of your letter of yesterday, my brother did not
expect that your next communication would have been made in _writing_.
He directed me to open his letters in his absence; your last letter,
bearing a different address from the former one, was opened by me; but
upon perceiving the name subscribed, I have declined to read it; and by
his directions I return it to you inclosed, and _unread_.--I am, sir,
your obedient servant,
"James O'Connell.
"Merrion-square, Friday Evening.
"To J. N. D'Esterre, Esq.,
11 Bachelor's-walk."
After a number of insulting letters from D'Esterre, his long-expected
hostile message arrived.
Major M'Namara, of Doolen, having been commissioned by O'Connell,
proceeded to Sir Edward Stanley, who acted as the friend of D'Esterre,
to arrange the meeting. The hour appointed was three o'clock on
Wednesday; the place, Bishop's Court Demesne, Lord Ponsonby's seat, in
the county Kildare, thirteen miles distant from Dublin.
It was proposed by him that the mode of fighting should be after the
following fashion:--That both should be handed a brace of pistols;
reserve their shots until the signal, and then fire when they pleased;
advancing or retiring after each shot, as they thought proper. Major
M'Namara would not assent to this mode of fighting, without first
consulting O'Connell and his friends. O'Connell at once directed him to
accept the terms. Major M'Namara then returned to Sir Edward Stanley,
and finally arranged the meeting. The parties proceeded to take their
ground, and were handed a brace of pistols each. The signal was given.
Both reserved their fire for some moments. D'Esterre first changed his
position, moving a pace towards the left hand, and then stepped towards
O'Connell. His object was to induce him to fire, more or less, at
random. He lifted his pistol, as if about to fire. O'Connell instantly
presented, pulled the trigger, and the unfortunate man fell.
In close attendance on O'Connell, at the ground, were Major M'Namara,
Nicholas Purcell O'Gorman, and Richard Nugent Bennett, as seconds and
friends; for all may be said to have acted in the double capacity.
It was reported in Dublin that O'Connell was shot; and a party of
dragoons were despatched from Dublin, for the protection of D'Esterre.
On their way the officer by whom they were commanded met, on its return,
the carriage containing O'Connell and his brother. The officer called on
the postilion to stop; whereupon Mr. James O'Connell pulled down the
window. The officer, addressing him, asked if they had been present at
the duel, to which he replied in the affirmative. The officer then said,
"Is it true Mr. O'Connell has been shot?" Mr. James O'Connell replied,
"No; the reverse is the fact; Mr. D'Esterre has unfortunately fallen."
The announcement had a visible effect upon the military; they were not
prepared for the intelligence; and something like consternation was
exhibited. The carriage was allowed to proceed, the military party being
evidently not aware who were its occupants.
When D'Esterre fell the spectators present could not refrain from giving
expression to their excited feelings; they actually shouted; and a young
collegian who was present, and who became a Protestant clergyman, was so
carried away by the general feeling, as to fling up his hat in the air,
and shout, "Hurra for O'Connell!"
Very different was the conduct of the three occupants of O'Connell's
carriage. They displayed no exultation. The moment D'Esterre fell they
went off; and though the place of meeting was near Naas, they were close
to Dublin before a single word was exchanged between them. At last
O'Connell broke the silence, saying, "I fear he is dead, he fell so
suddenly. Where do you think he was hit?" "In the head, I think," said
his medical friend. "That cannot be--I aimed low; the ball must have
entered near the thigh." This will be considered a remarkable
observation when, as was subsequently found, the wound was inflicted in
the part mentioned by O'Connell. Being one of the surest shots that ever
fired a pistol, he could have hit his antagonist where he pleased. But
his object was merely, in self-defence, to wound him in no mortal part,
and he aimed low with that intention.
The excitement in Dublin, when the result was known, cannot be
described; and, indeed, is scarcely credited by those who were not then
in the metropolis. Over seven hundred gentlemen left their cards at
O'Connell's the day after the occurrence.
Great commiseration was felt for D'Esterre's family, but it was
considered that he himself lost his life foolishly. It may be added that
he was an officer in the navy, and an eccentric character. He at one
time played off rather a serious joke upon his friends, who resided
near Cork. He wrote to them from aboard that he was sentenced to be
hanged for mutiny, and implored of them to use every interest to save
him. Lord Shannon interested himself in the affair, and the greatest
trouble was taken to obtain a pardon. But it turned out to be a hoax
practised by D'Esterre, when under the influence of the Jolly God.
Knowing his character, many even of opposite politics, notwithstanding
the party spirit that then prevailed, regretted the issue the
unfortunate man provoked.
O'CONNELL AND SECRETARY GOULBURN.
Mr. Goulburn, while Secretary for Ireland, visited Killarney, when
O'Connell (then on circuit) happened to be there. Both stopped at Finn's
Hotel, and chanced to get bedrooms opening off the same corridor. The
early habits of O'Connell made him be up at cock-crow. Finding the
hall-door locked, and so being hindered from walking outside, he
commenced walking up and down the corridor. To pass the time, he
repeated aloud some of Moore's poetry, and had just uttered the lines--
"We tread the land that bore us,
The green flag flutters o'er us,
The friends we've tried are by our side--"
At this moment Goulburn popped his nightcapped head out, to see what was
the matter. O'Connell instantly pointed his finger at him, and finished
the verse--
"And the foe we hate before us!"
In went Goulburn's head in the greatest hurry.
ENTRAPPING A WITNESS.
An illustration of his dexterity in compassing an unfortunate culprit's
acquittal may be here narrated.
He was employed in defending a prisoner who was tried for a murder
committed in the vicinity of Cork. The principal witness swore strongly
against the prisoner--one corroborative circumstance was, that the
prisoner's hat was found near the place where the murder took place. The
witness swore positively the hat produced was the one found, and that it
belonged to the prisoner, whose name was James.