Not as a picture of general manners, but as sketches of particular
characters in certain parts of Ireland, the following anecdotes are
extracted from one of the “Letters from the Irish Highlands,” dated in
May, 1823.
“In the same spirit, the pleasures of the table are but too often shared
by the gentlemen of the country with those who are very much their
inferiors, both in birth and fortune. The lowest and most degrading
debauchery must be the natural consequence, and here I must not forget
an anecdote which will at once illustrate this, and also make you
acquainted with a childish superstition, with which it is a frequent
practice of all ranks to combat this pernicious vice, encouraged by
their indolent manner of life, and by the former facility of procuring
smuggled liquors. A gentleman, whose rental at one time amounted to
10,000_l._ per annum, and who was in the constant habits of
intoxication, took an oath to drink nothing after the cloth was removed;
but, unable to comply with the spirit, he soon contented himself with
adhering to the letter of this rash vow, and, keeping the cloth on table
after dinner was over, could drink all night without fear of infringing
it. He then swore not to drink in his dining-parlour, but again as
easily evaded his engagement, by adjourning to the next apartment; in
the next apartment, however, on some fresh qualms of conscience, the vow
was renewed; and so, in each room successively, until he fairly swore
himself out of the house. He then took refuge in the summer-house of his
garden, and there used to dine and drink daily; till, rashly renewing
his vow here also, he was reduced to find a new subterfuge by taking
lodgings in a neighbouring town.
“This story reminds me of a circumstance which has taken place within
these few days, and in which the chief actor was one of the remaining
branches of a numerous family, among the second-rate gentry, who are
here distinguished by the title of _buckeens_. Originally supported in a
state of comparative ease and indulgence, partly by their share in the
contraband trade, partly by their close connection and alliance with the
principal families in the country, their incomes have gradually sunk
with the change of circumstances, which has, in a great measure,
dissolved this ancient bond of fellowship, as well as destroyed their
more illegitimate sources of revenue. Many of these, without seeking
employment for themselves, or education for their children, still cling
to customs which have now passed away; and, when reduced almost to a
state of mendicity, continue their former boast of being ‘gentlemen.’
“A puncheon of spirits lately came ashore, and fell to the share of the
individual above mentioned. It was too large to be got in at the door of
his house; he therefore pulled part of the wall down; still, however, it
stuck half way. His small stock of patience could last no longer; he
tapped the end that was within, and he and his wife, with their servant,
soon became completely intoxicated. His neighbours, aware of this,
tapped the cask at the other end, and the next day, when this worthy
personage would have taken his _morning_, he found the cask completely
emptied!”
Conduct, or rather misconduct, such as this, is very natural in a
country wherein social feelings are cultivated; wherein capital is not
employed; and wherein the knowledge of principles among the influential
classes of the community, is not sufficiently extended to unite in
cooperation by way of example and instruction. Industry is essential to
happiness, and the unemployed will be either playful or vicious. We say
of children, “Give them something to do, or they will be in mischief;”
this is equally true of men.
[Illustration: ~Francis Grose, Esq. F.S.A. etc.~]
This gentleman died on the 12th of May, 1791; he was son of Francis
Grose, esq. jeweller at Richmond, who fitted up the coronation crown of
George II. He was a captain in the Surrey militia, an eminent antiquary,
and a right worthy man. His “Antiquities of England and Wales, Scotland
and Ireland,” are more generally known perhaps than other topographical
works of more profound inquiry. They were commenced in numbers, and
published by “Master Samuel Hooper,” so he called his bookseller, to
whom he was a steady and affectionate friend, though he says, in one of
his letters, “he never did any one thing I desired him.” His “Classical
Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue,” Mr. Nichols says, “it would have been
for his credit to have suppressed.” The truth of this observation is
palpable to every one who is not sophisticated by the wretchedly
mischievous line, that
“Vice, to be hated, needs but to be seen.”
A more mischievous sentiment was never promulgated. Capt. Grose’s
“Olio” is a pleasant medley of whimsicalities. He was an excellent
companion, a humorist, and caricaturist; he wrote “Rules for drawing
Caricatures,” and drew and etched many, wherein he took considerable
liberties with his friends. Yet he seems to have disliked a personal
representation of himself sleeping in a chair, which Mr. Nichols
pronounces “an excellent” likeness; a copy of which we have given in
the preceding page. Adjoining it is another of him, a whole length,
standing, from an engraving by Bartolozzi, after a drawing by Dance. The
sleeping portrait is attributed to the rev. James Douglas, one of his
brother antiquaries, who dedicated the print to their “devoted brethren”
of the society. Beneath it were inscribed the following lines:
“Now _Grose_, like bright Phœbus, has sunk into rest,
Society droops for the loss of his jest;
Antiquarian debates, unseason’d with mirth,
To Genius and Learning will never give birth.
Then wake, Brother Member, our friend from his sleep,
Lest Apollo should frown, and Bacchus should weep.”
He was remarkably corpulent, as the engravings show. In a letter to the
rev. James Granger, he says, “I am, and ever have been, the idlest
fellow living, even before I had acquired the load of adventitious
matter which at present stuffs my doublet.” On the margin of this letter
Mr. Granger wrote, “As for the matter that _stuffs_ your doublet, I hope
it is all good _stuff_; if you should _double_ it, I shall call it
morbid matter and tremble for you. But I consider it as the effect of
good digestion, pure blood, and laughing spirits, coagulated into a
wholesome mass by as much sedentariness (I hate this long word) as is
consistent with the activity of your disposition.” In truth, Grose was
far from an idle man; he had great mental activity, and his antiquarian
knowledge and labours were great. He was fond however of what are termed
the pleasures of the table; and is represented in a fine mezzotinto,
drawn and engraved by his friend Nathaniel Hone, with Theodosius
Forrest, the barrister, and Hone himself, dressed in the character of
monks, over a bowl, which Grose is actively preparing for their
carousal. He died of apoplexy in Mr. Hone’s house in Dublin, at the age
of fifty-two. In reference to his principal works, the following
epitaph, quoted by Mr. Nichols in his “Anecdotes,” was proposed for him
in the “St. James’s Chronicle:”--
Here lies Francis Grose.
On Thursday, May 12, 1791,
Death put an end to
His _views_ and _prospects_.
* * * * *