Samuel Lover was born in Dublin in 1797. As a novelist he
was one of the most popular of the period in which he lived.
He is acknowledged to have written the best Irish peasant
sketches and the best Irish peasant songs in the language.
Lover was the son of a Dublin stock-broker, who attempted to
prepare his son for that business. At the age of seventeen,
however, the boy turned his back on the office, and, with
his scanty savings, he took up the study of art. Three years
later he began to win success as a painter of miniatures. An
admirable miniature of Paganini painted by Lover excited so
much attention in London that the young artist was induced
to go to the metropolis. There he spent a considerable part
of his time in literary work.
"The Gridiron" was one of his first productions. His
three-volume novel, "Rory O'More," appeared in 1836. This
was dramatized and met with such success that its versatile
author for a time devoted himself to playwriting. He also
wrote the words and music of several operettas. As a song
writer he now became one of the most popular in the United
Kingdom.
On the day that Victoria was crowned Queen of England she
was escorted to Buckingham Palace to the strains of "Rory
O'More." His most popular novel was "Handy Andy." Lover
visited the United States in 1846. He died in 1868. Besides
his literary talent, he possessed a high degree of musical
ability. Among Samuel Lover's descendants is Victor Herbert,
the well-known musical director and composer.
A certain old gentleman in the west of Ireland, whose love of the
ridiculous quite equaled his taste for claret and fox-hunting, was wont,
upon certain festive occasions, when opportunity offered, to amuse his
friends by drawing out one of his servants who was exceedingly fond of
what he termed his "thravels," and in whom a good deal of whim, some queer
stories, and, perhaps more than all, long and faithful services, had
established a right of loquacity.
He was one of those few trusty and privileged domestics, who, if his
master unheedingly uttered a rash thing in a fit of passion, would venture
to set him right.
If the squire said, "I'll turn that rascal off," my friend Pat would say,
"throth you won't, sir"; and Pat was always right, for if any altercation
arose upon the subject-matter in hand, he was sure to throw in some good
reason, either from former service--general good conduct--or the
delinquent's "wife and childher," that always turned the scale.
But I am digressing. On such merry meetings as I have alluded to, the
master, after making certain "approaches," as a military man would say, as
the preparatory steps in laying siege to some extravaganza of his servant,
might, perchance, assail Pat thus:
"By the by, Sir John" (addressing a distinguished guest), "Pat has a very
curious story, which something you told me to-day reminds me of. You
remember, Pat" (turning to the man, evidently pleased at the notice paid
to himself)--"you remember that queer adventure you had in France?"
"Throth I do, sir," grins forth Pat.
"What!" exclaims Sir John, in feigned surprise. "Was Pat ever in France?"
"Indeed he was," cries mine host; and Pat adds, "Ay, and farther, plase
your honor."
"I assure you, Sir John," continues mine host, "Pat told me a story once
that surprised me very much, respecting the ignorance of the French."
"Indeed!" said the baronet. "Really, I always supposed the French to be a
most accomplished people."
"Throth, then, they're not, sir," interrupts Pat.
"Oh, by no means," adds mine host, shaking his head emphatically.
"I believe, Pat, 'twas when you were crossing the Atlantic?" says the
master, turning to Pat with a seductive air, and leading into the "full
and true account"--(for Pat had thought fit to visit North Amerikay, for
"a raison he had," in the autumn of the year ninety-eight).
"Yes, sir," says Pat, "the broad Atlantic," a favorite phrase of his,
which he gave with a brogue as broad almost as the Atlantic itself.
"It was the time I was lost in crassin' the broad Atlantic, comin' home,"
began Pat, decoyed into the recital; "whin the winds began to blow, and
the sae to rowl, that you'd think the Colleen Dhas (that was her name)
would not have a mast left.
"Well, sure enough, the masts went by the board, at last, and the pumps
was choaked (divil choak them for that same), and av coorse the wather
gained an us, and throth, to be filled with water is neither good for man
nor baste; and she was sinkin' fast, settlin' down, as the sailors calls
it, and faith I never was good at settlin' down in my life, and I liked it
then less nor ever. Accordingly we prepared for the worst, and put out the
boat, and got a sack o' bishkits, and a cashk o' pork, and a kag o'
wather, and a thrifle o' rum aboord, and any other little mathers we could
think iv in the mortal hurry we wor in--and, faith, there was no time to
be lost, for my darlint, the Colleen Dhas, went down like a lump o' lead,
afore we wor many sthrokes o' the oar away from her.
"Well, we dhrifted away all that night, and next mornin' we put up a
blanket an the ind av a pole as well as we could, and thin we sailed
illigant, for we dar'n't show a stitch o' canvas the night before, bekase
it was blowin' like bloody murther, savin' your presence, and sure it's
the wondher of the world we worn't swallyed alive by the ragin' sae.
"Well, away we wint for more nor a week, and nothin' before our two
good-looking eyes but the canophy iv heaven, and the wide ocean--the broad
Atlantic--not a thing was to be seen but the sae and the sky; and though
the sae and the sky is mighty purty things in themselves, throth they're
no great things whin you've nothin' else to look at for a week
together--and the barest rock in the world, so it was land, would be more
welkim.
"And then, sure enough, throth, our provisions began to run low, the
bishkits, and the wather, and the rum--throth that was gone first of
all--God help uz!--and oh! it was thin that starvation began to stare us
in the face. 'Oh, murther, murther, captain, darlint,' says I, 'I wish we
could see land anywhere,' says I.
"'More power to your elbow, Paddy, my boy,' says he, 'for sitch a good
wish, and, throth, it's myself wishes the same.'
"'Oh,' says I, 'that it may plaze you, sweet queen in heaven--supposing it
was ony a dissolute island,' says I, 'inhabited wid Turks, sure they
wouldn't be such bad Christhans as to refuse uz a bit and a sup.'
"'Whisht, whisht, Paddy,' says the captain; 'don't be talkin' bad of any
one,' says he; 'you don't know how soon you may want a good word put in
for yourself, if you should be called to quarthers in th' other world all
of a suddent,' says he.
"'Thrue for you, captain, darlint,' says I--I called him darlint, and made
free wid him, you see, bekase disthress makes uz all equal--'thrue for
you, captain, jewel--God betune uz and harm, I owe no man any spite'--and,
throth, that was only thruth.
"Well, the last bishkit was sarved out, and, by gor, the wather itself was
all gone at last, and we passed the night mighty cowld. Well, at the brake
o' day the sun riz most beautiful out o' the waves, that was as bright as
silver and as clear as cryshtal.
"But it was only the more crule upon uz, for we wor beginnin' to feel
terrible hungry; when all at wanst I thought I spied the land--by gor, I
thought I felt my heart up in my throat in a minnit, and 'Thundher and
turf, captain,' says I, 'look to leeward,' says I.
"'What for?' says he.
"'I think I see the land,' says I. So he ups with his
bring-'um-near--(that's what the sailors call a spy-glass, sir), and looks
out, and, sure enough, it was.
"'Hurrah!' says he, 'we're all right now; pull away, my boys,' says he.
"'Take care you're not mistaken,' says I; 'maybe it's only a fog-bank,
captain, darlint,' says I.
"'Oh, no,' says he, 'it's the land in airnest.'
"'Oh, then, whereabouts in the wide world are we, captain?' says I; 'maybe
it id be in Roosia or Proosia, or the Garman Oceant,' says I.
"'Tut, you fool,' says he--for he had that consaited way wid him--thinkin'
himself cleverer nor any one else--'tut, you fool,' says he; 'that's
France,' says he.
"'Tare an ouns,' says I, 'do you tell me so? And how do you know it's
France it is, captain, dear,' says I.
"'Bekase this is the Bay o' Bishky we're in now,' says he.
"'Throth, I was thinkin' so myself,' says I, 'by the rowl it has; for I
often heerd av it in regard o' that same;' and, throth, the likes av it I
never seen before nor since, and, with the help o' God, never will.
"Well, with that my heart begun to grow light, and when I seen my life was
safe, I began to grow twice hungrier nor ever--so says I, 'Captain, jewel,
I wish we had a gridiron.'
"'Why, then,' says he, 'thundher and turf,' says he, 'what put a gridiron
into your head?'
"'Bekase I'm starvin' with the hunger,' says I.
"'And sure, bad luck to you,' says he, 'you couldn't ate a gridiron,' says
he, 'barrin' you wor a pelican o' the wildherness,' says he.
"'Ate a gridiron!' says I. 'Och, in throth, I'm not such a gommoch all out
as that, anyhow. But sure if we had a gridiron we could dress a
beefsteak,' says I.
"'Arrah! but where's the beefsteak?' says he.
"'Sure, couldn't we cut a slice aff the pork?' says I.
"'By gor, I never thought o' that,' says the captain. 'You're a clever
fellow, Paddy,' says he, laughin'.
"'Oh, there's many a thrue word said in joke,' says I.
"'Thrue for you, Paddy,' says he.
"'Well, then,' says I, 'if you put me ashore there beyant' (for we were
nearin' the land all the time), 'and sure I can ask thim for to lind me
the loan of a gridiron,' says I.
"'Oh, by gor, the butther's comin' out o' the stirabout in airnest, now,'
says he. 'You gommoch,' says he, 'sure I towld you before that's
France--and sure they're all furriners there,' says the captain.
"'Well,' says I, 'and how do you know but I'm as good a furriner myself as
any o' thim?'
"'What do you mane?' says he.
"'I mane,' says I, 'what I towld you, that I'm as good a furriner myself
as any o' thim.'
"'Make me sinsible,' says he.
"'By dad, maybe that's more nor me, or greater nor me, could do,' says I;
and we all began to laugh at him, for I thought I'd pay him off for his
bit o' consait about the Garman Oceant.
"'Lave aff your humbuggin',' says he, 'I bid you, and tell me what it is
you mane at all at all.'
"'Parly-voo frongsay?' says I.
"'Oh, your humble sarvant,' says he. 'Why, by gor, you're a scholar,
Paddy.'
"'Throth, you may say that,' says I.
"'Why, you're a clever fellow, Paddy,' says the captain, jeerin' like.
"'You're not the first that said that,' says I, 'whether you joke or no.'
"'Oh, but I'm in airnest,' says the captain. 'And do you tell me, Paddy,'
says he, 'that you spake Frinch?'
"'Parly-voo frongsay?' says I.
"'By gor, that bangs Banagher, and all the world knows Banagher bangs the
devil. I never met the likes o' you, Paddy,' says he. 'Pull away, boys,
and put Paddy ashore, and maybe we won't get a good bellyfull before
long.'
"So with that, it was no sooner said nor done--they pulled away and got
close into shore in less than no time, and run the boat up in a little
creek; and a beautiful creek it was, with a lovely white sthrand, an
illigant place for ladies to bathe in the summer; and out I got, and it's
stiff enough in my limbs I was afther bein' cramped up in the boat, and
perished with the cowld and hunger; but I conthrived to scramble an, one
way or the other, towards a little bit iv a wood that was close to the
shore, and the smoke curlin' out of it, quite timpting like.
"'By the powdhers o' war, I'm all right,' says I; 'there's a house
there'--and sure enough there was, and a parcel of men, women, and
childher, ating their dinner round a table quite convainent. And so I wint
up to the dure, and I thought I'd be very civil to thim, as I heerd the
Frinch was always mighty p'lite intirely--and I thought I'd show them I
knew what good manners was.
"So I took off my hat, and making a low bow, says I, 'God save all here,'
says I.
"Well, to be sure, they all stopt ating at wanst, and begun to stare at
me, and faith they almost looked me out of countenance--and I thought to
myself it was not good manners at all--more be token from furriners, which
they call so mighty p'lite; but I never minded that, in regard of wantin'
the gridiron; and so says I, 'I beg your pardon,' says I, 'for the liberty
I take, but it's only bein' in disthress in regard of ating,' says I,
'that I make bowld to throuble yez, and if you could lind me the loan of a
gridiron,' says I, 'I'd be intirely obleeged to ye.'
"By gor, they all stared at me twice worse nor before, and with that, says
I (knowing what was in their minds), 'Indeed it's thrue for you,' says I;
'I'm tathered to pieces, and God knows I look quare enough, but it's by
raison of the storm,' says I, 'which dhruv us ashore here below, and we're
all starvin',' says I.
"So then they began to look at each other agin, and myself, seeing at
wanst dirty thoughts was in their heads, and that they tuk me for a poor
beggar comin' to crave charity--with that, says I, 'Oh! not at all,' says
I, 'by no manes; we have plenty o' mate ourselves, there below, and we'll
dhress it,' says I, 'if you would be plased to lind us the loan of a
gridiron,' says I, makin' a low bow.
"Well, sir, with that, throth, they stared at me twice worse nor ever,
and faith I began to think that maybe the captain was wrong, and that it
was not France at all at all--and so says I--'I beg pardon, sir,' says I,
to a fine ould man, with a head of hair as white as silver--'maybe I'm
undher a mistake,' says I, 'but I thought I was in France, sir; aren't you
furriners?' says I--'Parly-voo frongsay?'
"'We, munseer,' says he.
"'Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'if you plase?'
"Oh, it was thin that they stared at me as if I had siven heads; and faith
myself began to feel flusthered like, and onaisy--and so, says I, making a
bow and scrape agin, 'I know it's a liberty I take, sir,' says I, 'but
it's only in the regard of bein' cast away, and if you plase, sir,' says
I, 'Parly-voo frongsay?'
"'We, munseer,' says he, mighty sharp.
"'Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron?' says I, 'and you'll
obleege me.'
"Well, sir, the old chap begun to munseer me, but the divil a bit of a
gridiron he'd gie me; and so I began to think they were all neygars, for
all their fine manners; and, throth, my blood began to rise, and says I,
'By my sowl, if it was you was in disthress,' says I, 'and if it was to
ould Ireland you kem, it's not only the gridiron they'd give you if you
ax'd it, but something to put an it too, and a dhrop of dhrink into the
bargain, and cead mille failte.'
"Well, the word cead mille failte seemed to stchreck his heart, and the
ould chap cocked his ear, and so I thought I'd give him another offer, and
make him sinsible at last; and so says I, wanst more, quite slow, that he
might undherstand--'Parly--voo--frongsay, munseer?'
"'We, munseer,' says he.
"'Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'and bad scran to you.'
"Well, bad win' to the bit of it he'd gi' me, and the ould chap begins
bowin' and scrapin', and said something or other about a long tongs.
"'Phoo!--the devil sweep yourself and tongs,' says I, 'I don't want a
tongs at all at all; but can't you listen to raison,' says I--'Parly-voo
frongsay?'
"We, munseer.'
"'Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'and howld your prate.'
"Well, what would you think but he shook his owld noddle, as much as to
say he wouldn't; and so says I, 'Bad cess to the likes o' that I ever
seen--throth if you were in my country, it's not that-a-way they'd use
you; the curse o' the crows on you, you ould sinner,' says I; 'the divil a
longer I'll darken your dure.'
"So he seen I was vexed, and I thought, as I was turnin' away, I seen him
begin to relint, and that his conscience throubled him; and says I,
turnin' back, 'Well, I'll give you one chance more--you owld thief--are
you a Chrishthan at all at all?--are you a furriner,' says I, 'that all
the world calls so p'lite? Bad luck to you, do you undherstand your own
language?--Parly-voo frongsay?' says I.
"'We, munseer,' says he.
"'Then, thundher and turf,' says I, 'will you lind me the loan of a
gridiron?'
"Well, sir, the divil resave the bit of it he'd gi' me--and so with that,
'The curse o' the hungry on you, you owld negardly villain,' says I; 'the
back o' my hand and the sowl o' my foot to you; that you may want a
gridiron yourself yet,' says I; 'and wherever I go, high and low, rich and
poor, shall hear o' you,' says I; and with that I lift them there, sir,
and kem away--and in throth it's often since that I thought that it was
remarkable."