Originally published in Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance (Chapman and Hall) vol.12 #3 (1847).
It would be necessary to enter into a rather tedious disquisition upon the secret springs of national action, in order to develop fully the origin of the universal practice of duelling, and the ideas which were entertained of such practices in Ireland some sixty years ago. The same quick, thoughtless, rash, and fiery spirit—passionate, yet generous—vindictive, yet true to its cause even in error and guile, which leads the peasant to the faction-fight or the political murder, evidently also embued the character of the gentry in former times, and that more than in the present day, although the leaven still remains. The same principles, or rather want of principles, as far as reflection, judgment, and morality are concerned, were, however, coloured in classes supposed to be of "gentle" blood, by education and social position. The warm-heartedness of the Irish gentleman, the freshness and vigour of his intellect, his high sense of certain points of honour, his inexhaustible animal spirits, vivid imagination, and almost Oriental eloquence, constituted the bright sides of the picture. The high excitement, political and social; the reckless gaiety and expenditure; the indulgence in luxurious habits sustained upon credit and false expectations; extravagance united to indifference to debt; riotous, guilty living, to repair which gambling, seduction, abduction, and every so-called "gentlemanly" vice was had recourse to; and that not only by individuals, but by clubs or associations formed for the express purpose, constituted the other side of the picture, and one, it is to be regretted, more nationally characteristic than the first. Hence it was that the same country and the same times that produced its Bully Egans, its Bryan Maguires, and its Tiger Roches, also sent forth its Currans, its Grattans, and its Burkes; but the latter were rather the exceptions than the rule, and for one minor Curran or Grattan there were hundreds of petty "bullies" and pettish "tigers." No "gentleman" was considered to have taken his proper station in life till he had "smelt powder;" it was still "a duellist, a gentleman of the very first house," and many men of the bar, practising half a century ago, owed their eminence not so much to powers of eloquence or to legal ability, as to a daring spirit and the number of duels they had fought.
These observations have been suggested to us by the perusal of a little book entitled, "Ireland Sixty Years Ago,"[1] in which a great number of curious facts, illustrative of the worst features in the Irish character, duelling, abduction, drunkenness, and gambling, have been somewhat loosely put together—at least, without any evident purpose of history or generalisation, and, as may be easily imagined, when a number of such anecdotes are thus hastily collected, some historical, many derived from tradition, and others from hearsay, it is obvious that man must bear a very apocryphal character. Thus the author relates that,
Some years since, a young friend going to the bar consulted the late Dr. Hodgkinson, Vice-Provost of Trinity College, then a very old man, as to the best course of study to pursue, and whether he should begin with Fearne or Chitty. The doctor, who had been long secluded from the world, and whose observation was beginning to fail, immediately reverted to the time when he had been himself a young barrister, and his advice was,
"My young friend, practise four hours a-day at Rigby's pistol gallery, and it will advance you to the woolsack faster than all the Fearnes and Chittys in the library."
Now it is to be observed, in regard to this paragraph, which is introductory to a chapter on "fighting lawyers," that the late Dr. Hodgkinson was an eminently peaceful man, and a perfect gentleman, that he was never secluded from the world, that he did not die a "very old man," and that at least so long as his health was spared, his powers of observation never failed him. It will, indeed, be quite obvious to any one personally acquainted with the late Dr. Hodgkinson, that the anecdote is of very doubtful foundation, and that if the vice-provost ever did give such advice it was only as a joke.
Among the barristers who are related to have thus fought their way to preference, was Bully Egan, chairman of the quarter sessions for the county of Dublin.
He was a large, black, burly man, but of so soft and good-natured a disposition, that he was never known to pass a severe sentence on a criminal without blubbering in tears. Yet he, perhaps, fought more duels than any man on or off the bench. Though so tender-hearted in passing sentence on a criminal, he was remarkably firm in shooting a friend. He fought at Donnybrook with the Master of the Rolls, before a crowd of spectators, who were quite amused at the drollery of the scene. When his antagonist fired he was walking coolly away, saying his honour was satisfied; but Egan called out he must have a shot at "his honour." On his returning to his place, Egan said he would not humour him, or be bothered with killing him, but he might either come and shake hands or go to the devil.
It was no unusual thing for two opposite counsel to fall out in court in discussing a legal point, retire to a neighbouring field to settle it with pistols, and then return to court to resume business. The cause of their absence was generally understood, and they found on their return, the bench, the jury, and spectators, anxiously awaiting their decision. It is not, however, stated, if such decisions were entered among the records for precedents.
Toler, Lord Norburry, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, fought "fighting Fitzgerald," and several others. So distinguished was Mr. Toler tor his deeds in this way, that he was always the man depended on by the administration to frighten a member of the opposition—and so rapid was his promotion in consequence, that it was said he shot up into preferment.
Even Curran was as much distinguished for his duels as his eloquence, and is said to have called out, among others, Lord Buckingham, Chief Secretary for Ireland, because he would not dismiss, at his dictation, a public officer. Grattan was also ever ready to sustain with his pistols the force of his arguments. He began by fighting Lord Earlsfort, and ended by shooting Corry, Chancellor of the Exchequer.
The public mind in Ireland was in such a state of irritation from the period of 1780, to the time of the union, that it is supposed three hundred remarkable duels were fought in that country during that interval. So universal and irrepressible was this propensity, that "duelling clubs" were established in imitation of the "abduction clubs." Encounters took place even in the streets.
A spectator described to us such an encounter which he witnessed on Stephen's-green. One of the combatants was, we believe, G. R. Fitzgerald. The parties were walking round the enclosure in different directions, and as soon as they met they sprang at each other like two gamecocks; a crowd collected, and a ring was formed, when some humane person cried out, "For God's sake part them." "No," said a grave gentleman in the crowd, "let them fight it out; one will probably be killed, and the other hanged for the murder, and society will get rid of two pests." One of them did thrust the other through the tail of his coat, and he long exhibited in public, by his uneasy gait, the painful and disgraceful seat of the wound.
Pat Power, of Daragle, a renowned duellist, described as a fat, robust man, much distinguished for his intemperance, and generally seen with a glowing red face, used to put his prowess to a kind of practical utility. Thus it is related of him, that when travelling in England he had many encounters with persons who were attracted by his brogue and clumsy appearance.
On one occasion a group of gentlemen were sitting in a box at one end of the room, when Power entered at the other. The representative of Irish manners, at this time on the English stage, was a tissue of ignorance, blunders, and absurdities, and when a real Irishman appeared off the stage, he was always supposed to have the characteristics of his class, and so to be a fair butt for ridicule. When Power took his seat in the box, the waiter came to him with a gold watch, with a gentleman's compliments, and a request to know what o'clock it was by it. Power took the watch, and then directed the waiter to let him know the person who had sent it; he pointed out one of the group. Power rang the bell for his servant, and directed him to bring his pistols, and follow him. He put them under his arm, and with the watch in his hand, walked up to the box, and presenting the watch, begged to know to whom it belonged. When no one was willing to own it, he drew his old silver one from his fob, and presented it to his servant desiring him to keep it, and putting up the gold one, he gave his name and address, and assured the company he would keep it safe till called for. It never was claimed.
The feats of the celebrated "fighting" Fitzgerald, are familiar as household stories in Dublin. This amiable member of society, used to make a practice of standing in the middle of a narrow crossing in a dirt street, so that every passenger would be forced either to step into the mud, or jostle him in passing. If any had the boldness to choose the latter, he was immediately challenged. The deeds of Bryan Maguire, which were marked by somewhat similar characteristics, continued to a still more recent period "to fright the islanders from their propriety." This Maguire was a large, burly man with enormous whiskers, a bull neck, and clumsy shoulders, and a truculent and menacing aspect. Accoutred in a gaudy uniform, and armed with his sword, he would stalk along the streets with his arms folded across his ample chest in solitary and disdainful magnificence. Any unfortunate wayfarer who met him on the path was hurled into a heap of mud at one side of it. His domestic habits are described as being in keeping with this outrageous behaviour when without. The most surprising thing in such a narrative, is the state of society which could tolerate, or put up for a moment with such a nuisance. Among the characters, which, more than any other, was most distinguished by a career of unbridled indulgence and fierce passions, was one whose sobriquet became a by-word—"Tiger Roche." The history of this man is a whole romance in itself. A volunteer in North America, he became the victim of a false charge, joined the Indians, and suffered all kinds of privations and dangers; returned to England, fought his calumniators, was ultimately vindicated, became a kind of knight-errant, married an heiress, became a spendthrift, was cast into prison, turned gambler, stood as a "popular" candidate at elections, deceived and ruined an innocent young person, sailed for India, quarrelled with every one, killed the captain, and was at last tried for murder, but acquitted. Such is the extraordinary progress of a man, the vicissitudes of whose fortune were as variable as his character; at times exposed to the foulest charges, and narrowly escaping ignominious punishment; at others the object of unbounded popularity and admiration. It must, however, be allowed that the moral perceptions of those who fêtéd such a person, could not have been of a very refined or delicate description. It is to be hoped that years of peace are now teaching the Irish to prefer quiet and industry, to excitement, violence, and scheming.
"The contrast," says the author of "The Sketches of Ireland Sixty Years Ago," "between what we are and what we were—between our present state of social peace, advancing enterprise, and regular habits, and the brutal violence, barbarism and recklessness, from which we have emerged ought to encourage a hope of corresponding improvement for the future. And improve we will, notwithstanding the gloom which at present over-spreads us, the foreboding of alarmists, or the abuse with which, in some quarters, Ireland and the Irish of all classes are so abundantly assailed, notwithstanding even what is more serious, the scattered instances of systematic lawlessness and crime, which, though now limited to a few districts, sometimes even yet bring us back to the last century."
1. Sketches of Ireland Sixty Years ago. W.S. Orr and Co., London.