"Yes." "Did you examine it carefully before you swore in your
informations that it was the prisoner's?" "Yes." "Now, let me see,"
said O'Connell, and he took up the hat, and began carefully to examine
the inside. He then spelled aloud the name James--slowly,
thus:--"J--a--m--e--s." "Now, do you mean those words were in the hat
when you found it?" "I do." "Did you see them there." "I did." "This is
the same hat?" "It is." "Now, my Lord," said O'Connell, holding up the
hat to the Bench, "there is an end to the case--there is no name
whatever inscribed in the hat." The result was instant acquittal.
GAINING OVER A JURY.
At a Cork Assizes, many years ago, he was employed in an action of
damages, for diverting a stream from its regular channel, or diverting
so much of it as inflicted injury on some party who previously benefited
by its abundance. The injury was offered by a nobleman, and his
attorney, on whose advice the proceeding was adopted, was a man of
corpulent proportions, with a face bearing the ruddy glow of rude
health, but, flushed in a crowded court, assumed momentarily, a color
like that imparted by intemperance. He really was a most temperate man.
O'Connell dwelt on the damage his client had sustained by the unjust
usurpation. The stream should have been permitted to follow its old and
natural course. There was neither law nor justice in turning it aside
from his client's fields. He had a light to all its copiousness, and the
other party should have allowed him full enjoyment. In place of that,
the latter monopolized the water--he diminished it. It became every day
small by degrees and beautifully less. "There is not now," he said,
"gentlemen of the jury, a tenth of the ordinary quantity. The stream is
running dry--and so low is it, and so little of it is there, that,"
continued he, turning to the rubicund attorney, and naming him, "there
isn't enough in it to make grog for Fogatty."
A roar of laughter followed, and it was not stopped by the increased
rosiness and embarrassment of the gentleman who became the victim of the
learned advocate's humorous allusion. The tact in this sally was, in
endeavoring to create an impression on the jury that his poor client
was sacrificed by the harsh conduct of a grog-drinking attorney, and
thus create prejudice against the plaintiff's case. Thus did O'Connell
gain the hearts of Irish juries; and thus did he, indulging his own
natural humor, on the public platform, gain the affections of his
countrymen.
PADDY AND THE PARSON.
In June, 1832, O'Connell addressed a meeting of the Political Union of
the London working classes. In his address, he humorously and
graphically describes the system of passive resistance then adopted
against the payment of Tithes, in the following amusing dialogue between
Paddy and the parson:--
"And how does Paddy act? Does he disobey the laws? No. 'Paddy,' says the
parson, 'you owe me £l 17s. 6d.' 'And what may it be for, your
Riverence!' says Pat (laughter). 'Tithes! Paddy.' 'Arrah! thin I suppose
your Riverence gave some value fornint I was born; for divil a bit I
ever seen since (roars of laughter). But your Riverence, I suppose, has
law for it? Bless the law! your honor, and sure an I wouldn't be after
going to disobey it; but plase your Riverence, I have no money' (great
laughter). 'Ah, Pat, but you've a cow there. 'Yes, your Riverence,
that's the cow that gives food to Norry and the fourteen childer.'
'Well, Paddy, then I must distrain that cow.' 'If your honor has law for
it, to be sure you will.' Well, what does Paddy do? He stamps the word
'Tithes' upon her side, and the parson can't find a soul to take the
cow. So he gets a regiment and a half, by way of brokers (much
laughter)--fourteen or fifteen companies, with those amiable young
gentlemen, their officers, at their head, who march seventeen or
eighteen miles across the Bog of Allen to take his cow; they bring the
cow to Carlow; when they get there, they find a great crowd assembled;
the parson rubs his hands with glee. 'Plenty of customers for the cow,'
quoth he to himself. The cow is put up at £2--no bidder; £1--no bidder;
10s--5s.--6d.--1-1/2d. (cheers). Not a soul will bid, and back goes the
cow to Norry and the fourteen childer (continued cheers)."
A MARTIAL JUDGE.
In Court his usual mirth and ready wit never failed him; and he kept
the bar and listening by-standers in constant hilarity. He made an
excellent hit during the trial of Sir George Bingham, for assault,
during the tithe agitation. The General's Aide-de-Camp, Captain Berners,
of the Royal Artillery, was under examination. A junior counsel asked
the witness, "What is the meaning of the military phrase, 'ride him
down?'"
"Do you think," interposed O'Connell, "we are here to get an explanation
of plain English from an English Aide-de-Camp, with his tongue in
holiday dress?" then turning to the witness, he said, "You belong to the
Artillery and understand horse language?"--"Yes." Mr. Justice Moore, who
tried the case, here observed--"I ought to understand it, Mr. O'Connell,
for I was a long while Captain of cavalry." "Yes you were, my lord,"
replied O'Connell, "and I recollect you a long time a _Sergeant_, too."
This ready sally caused a burst of laughter throughout the whole court.
RETENTIVE MEMORY.
At Darrynane, he was sitting one morning, surrounded by country people,
some asking his advice, some his assistance, others making their
grievances known. Amongst the rest was a farmer rather advanced in life,
a swaggering sort of fellow, who was desirous to carry his point by
impressing the Liberator with the idea of his peculiar honesty and
respectability. He was anxious that O'Connell should decide a matter in
dispute between him and a neighboring farmer who, he wished to
insinuate, was not as good as he ought to be. "For my part, I, at least,
can boast that neither I nor mine were ever brought before a judge or
sent to jail, however it was with others."
"Stop, stop, my fine fellow," cried the Liberator--"Let me see," pausing
a moment. "Let me see; it is now just twenty-five years ago, last
August, that I myself saved you from transportation, and had you
discharged from the dock."
The man was thunderstruck; he thought such a matter could not be
retained in the great man's mind. He shrunk away, murmuring that he
should get justice elsewhere, and never appeared before the Liberator
afterwards.
A POLITICAL HURRAH AT A FUNERAL.
Ascending the mountain road between Dublin and Glencullen, in company
with an English friend, O'Connell was met by a funeral. The mourners
soon recognized him, and immediately broke into a vociferous hurrah for
their political favorite, much to the astonishment of the Sassenach;
who, accustomed to the solemn and lugubrious decorum of English
funerals, was not prepared for an outburst of Celtic enthusiasm upon
such an occasion. A remark being made on the oddity of a political
hurrah at a funeral, it was replied that the corpse would have doubtless
cheered lustily too, if he could.
REFUSAL OF OFFICE.
In 1838, on the morning when O'Connell received from the Government the
offer to be appointed Lord Chief Baron, he walked over to the window,
saying:
"This is very kind--very kind, indeed!--but I haven't the least notion
of taking the offer. Ireland could not spare me now; not but that, _if
she could_, I don't at all deny that the office would have great
attractions for me. Let me see, now--there would not be more than about
eight days' duty in the year; I would take a country house near Dublin,
and walk into town; and during the intervals of judicial labor, I'd go
to Derrynane. I should be idle in the early part of April, just when the
jack-hares leave the most splendid trails upon the mountains. In fact, I
should enjoy the office exceedingly upon every account, if I could but
accept it consistently with the interests of Ireland--But I
Cannot."
A MISTAKEN FRENCHMAN.
When travelling in France, during the time of his sojourn at St. Omer's,
O'Connell encountered a very talkative Frenchman, who incessantly poured
forth the most bitter tirades against England. O'Connell listened in
silence; and the Frenchman, surprised at his indifference, at last
exclaimed,--
"Do you hear, do you understand what I am saying, sir?"
"Yes, I hear you, I comprehend you perfectly."
"Yet you do not seem angry?"
"Not in the least."
"How can you so tamely bear the censures I pronounce against your
country?"
"Sir, England is not my country. Censure her as much as you please, you
cannot offend me. I am an Irishman, and my countrymen have as little
reason to love England as yours have, perhaps less."
EPISTOLARY BORES.
The number of letters received by O'Connell upon trivial subjects was
sufficient to try his patience, as the following will show:--
A letter once arrived from New York, which, on opening, he found to
contain a minute description of a Queen Anne's farthing recently found
by the writer, with a modest request that "Ireland's Liberator" might
negotiate the sale of the said farthing in London; where, as many
intelligent persons had assured him, he might make his fortune by it.
Another modest correspondent was one Peter Waldron, also of New York,
whose epistle ran thus:--"Sir, I have discovered an old paper, by which
I find that my grandfather, Peter Waldron, left Dublin about the year
1730. You will very much oblige me by instituting an immediate inquiry
who the said Peter Waldron was; whether he possessed any property in
Dublin or elsewhere, and to what amount; and in case that he did, you
will confer a particular favor on me by taking immediate steps to
recover it, and if successful, forwarding the amount to me at New York."
At another time a Protestant clergyman wrote to apprise him that he and
his family were all in prayer for his conversion to the Protestant
religion; and that the writer was anxious to engage in controversy with
so distinguished an antagonist.
The letters with which he was persecuted, soliciting patronage, were
innumerable. "Everybody writes to me about everything," said he, "and
the applicants for places, without a single exception, tell me that _one
word_ of mine will infallibly get them what they want. _One word_! Oh,
how sick I am of that '_One word_!'"
Some of his rural correspondents entertained odd ideas of his
attributes. He said that "from one of them he got a letter commencing
with 'Awful Sir!'"
SIR R. PEEL'S OPINION OF O'CONNELL.
Sir Robert Peel is said to have expressed his high appreciation of
O'Connell's parliamentary abilities. While the Reform Bill was under
discussion, the speeches of its friends and foes were one day canvassed
at Lady Beauchamp's. On O'Connell's name being mentioned, some critic
fastidiously said, "Oh, a broguing Irish fellow! who would listen to
_him?_ I always walk out of the House when he opens his lips," "Come,
Peel," said Lord Westmoreland, "let me hear your opinion." "My opinion
candidly is," replied Sir Robert, "that if I wanted an efficient and
eloquent advocate, I would readily give up all the other orators of whom
we have been talking, provided I had with me this same broguing Irish
fellow.'"
* * * * *
At the Bishop of Waterford's table, the following anecdote was related
by O'Connell:
"My grandmother had twenty-two children, and half of them lived beyond
the age of ninety. Old Mr. O'Connell of Derrynane, pitched upon an oak
tree to make his own coffin, and mentioned his purpose to a carpenter.
In the evening, the butler entered after dinner to say that the
carpenter wanted to speak with him. 'For what?' asked my uncle. 'To talk
about your honor's coffin,' said the carpenter, putting his head inside
the door over the butler's shoulder. I wanted to get the fellow out, but
my uncle said, 'Oh! let him in by all means.--Well, friend, what do you
want to say to me about my coffin?' 'Only, sir, that I'll saw up the oak
tree that your honor was speaking of into seven-foot plank.' 'That would
be wasteful,' answered my uncle; 'I never was more than six feet and an
inch in my vamps, the best day ever I saw.' 'But your honor will stretch
after death,' said the carpenter. 'Not eleven inches, I am sure, you
blockhead! But I'll stretch, no doubt--perhaps a couple of inches or so.
Well, make my coffin six feet six, and I'll warrant that will give me
room enough!'"
* * * * *
"I remember," said O'Connell, "being counsel at a special commission in
Kerry against a Mr. S----, and having occasion to press him somewhat
hard in my speech, he jumped up in the court, and called me 'a
purse-proud blockhead.' I said to him, 'In the first place I have got
no purse to be proud of; and, secondly, if I be a blockhead, it is
better for you, as I am counsel against you. However, just to save you
the trouble of saying so again, I'll administer a slight
rebuke'--whereupon I whacked him soundly on the back with the
president's cane. Next day he sent me a challenge by William Ponsonby of
Crottoe; but very shortly after, he wrote to me to state, that since he
had challenged me, he had discovered that my life was inserted in a very
valuable lease of his. 'Under these circumstances,' he continued, 'I
cannot afford to shoot you, unless, as a precautionary measure, you
first insure your life for my benefit. If you do, then heigh for powder
and ball! I'm your man.' Now this seems so ludicrously absurd, that it
is almost incredible; yet it is literally true. S---- was a very timid
man; yet he fought six duels--in fact, he fought them all out of pure
fear."
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Judge Robinson was the author of many stupid, slavish, and
scurrilous political pamphlets; and, by his demerits, raised to the
eminence which he thus disgraced.--_Lord Brougham_.
[2] The name by which Methodists are known in Ireland.