A Recollections of Dublin Castle ^ of Dublin Society Recollections of * Dublin Castle # of Dublin Society By A Native * * * Brentano's, New York 1902 o > i^nr 71 Recollections of Dublin Castle & of Dublin Society OF dear, old, and dirty Dublin Lady Mor- gan's well-known description I was a denizen for forty years and more. So I am well versed in all its ways, humours, delusions, and amiable deceits, and might claim to know it by heart. Dear it was old, certainly , and dilapidated beyond dispute. As to the dirt, it was unimpeachable. No native, however, was known to admit any of these blemishes. It is a pleasant and rather original old city, where people of good spirits will find plenty to entertain them, but offering one enjoyable characteristic in the general spirit of "make-believe" (humbug is too coarse a term) which prevails everywhere. The natives 20G1096 Recollections of Dublin Castle will maintain against all comers that it is the finest city going, and that its society is ** second to none, sir." Among themselves even there is a good-natured sort of conspiracy to keep up the fiction, always " making believe," as much as the Little Marchioness herself. " Where, my boy, would you see such beautiful faces or th' Irish eyes don't tell me and where 'ud " (this " 'ud " is a favourite abbreviation) " 'ud you hear such music, or find such social in- tercourse, or such general * divarshions ' ? " I, like the rest, was beguiled by all this and believed in it all, and it was not until years after I had left that the glamour dissolved. It was thus that we used to assure each other that certain persons, trading in a modest sort of way, were " merchant princes, my boy " ; that a few professional people were " leaders of society," and so on. All this was harmless enough and contributed to the general happi- ness. The chief " make-believe," however, was the Viceregal Court, or " Coort," that strange, ^f of Dublin Society theatrical installation, whose tawdry influence affected everything in the place down to the commonest little tradesman, or to the " Castle waiter," whose service it was a great comfort to secure, even at a higher fee. As I look back across this long stretch of years, to what were really very jocund days, one scene rises before me which seems highly significant, and which furnishes a sort of key- note for the various things that I am about to recall. It was at a concert in Dublin at " Th' Ancient Concert Rooms." An English friend was staying with us, and, not without pride, we promised to take him to a Philharmonic concert, supposed to be highly fashionable and exclusive because " his Excellency" and his Court was to attend. "Th' Ancient Concert Rooms" was a rather shabby tenement in Brunswick Street, about the size and proportions of a moderate Dis- senting chapel ; but it justly boasted that it was the " finest thing of the kind in Ireland," or " Daublin," as the genteeler ones strove to 3 Recollections of Dublin Castle sound it. (There were always numbers of things that were " the finest in Ireland," particularly that "fine animal" the horse.) We had scarce seated ourselves in "the reserved seats *' (little is worth having in this city unless it be reserved for you and not for others), when suddenly there came a bustle and a fluster. Every one rose to his feet ; there were agitated cries of " Here he is ! He's coming !" and half a dozen men, carrying white wands, appeared, struggling their way along a very narrow gangway. A dapper-looking, clerk-like man came last, wearing a star, following the stewards. This was THE LORD LIEUTENANT, or the Lord " Z,*y/nant," as he was usually spoken of by the crowd. He came along bowing and smiling, and trying to be as gracious as he could. Following him were the aides-de- camp, or " edukongs," supercilious young men, with blue silk facings to their coats sure and certain seal of their office, the blue being reverenced, even to all but 4 Sf of Dublin Society prostration, by the society of Dublin behind whom glided a number of limp, faded dames, some veterans, attired in garments as faded as their persons the "Ladies of the House- hold" wives of the secretaries, or ancients who were passed on from Government to Government, and who grew more firmly fixed as years went on. It was entertaining to see how the suite behaved, with what an air of pride, and at the same time of assumed affability, they moved on in the train, two and two. In the admiring crowds which lined the avenues they would recognise a friend or acquaintance, and were not too proud to nod. The high officials of "the Court" were very stern and brusque even. They believed most heartily in the whole fiction. This curious procession was invariably repeated on every public occasion, and was ever painfully followed by greedy, admiring eyes. Three rows of hard wooden benches rising above each other under the skimpy gallery was the august throne of the Viceregal S Recollections of Dublin Castle party. "God Save the Queen" was then struck up, every eye riveted on the great man and the group about him. That procession used to remind me of those other " tag-rag " processions which would come on in the grand Operas those poor limp creatures who walk behind Marguerite of Navarre, or some other queen, in faded " streeling " robes. These high ladies passed on with a smiling, depre- cating air half ashamed, half proud of their position. Well, to return to my Englishman. I noticed that he was gazing through his monocle with unfeigned astonishment and amusement at the show. " Dear me ! " he said at last, " this is all most astonishing. Think of that man in London ! Why, no one would turn their head to look at him. It's most singular ! " And so it was. But it was the same everywhere, and on every occasion. Did his carriage stop at a house, a crowd gathered, eager almost to feel the horses, supposed with the vehicle to be hired 6 SP of Dublin Society from a London job-master. There was a story that at one of these concerts, during a very cold season, a black bottle full of hot water was brought in, carried by one of the Viceregal party, for the benefit of one of the young ladies. The tale went about in all sorts of shapes. " Wasn't it terrible ? " said an old dame. " He has grown so besotted with drink that he actually brought in his brandy-bottle with him to the concert ! " The little scene I have been describing is significant, for the same unmeaning adoration permeated every class of society. This theat- rical make-believe of a Court leavened every- thing. Everybody played at this sham Royalty, and, I am convinced, firmly be- lieved in it, or fancied they did. The " Kestle " was the cynosure. To be asked to the " Kestle," to know people at the " Kestle," or even to know people who knew people at the " Kestle," was Elysium itself ! The Pinchbeck beings of the Castle naturally gave themselves great airs, often 7 Recollections of Dublin Castle ridiculing those who so venerated them, but would condescend to accept any invitations that were humbly offered. Here they could star it. They were the pure " English, you know," though among them there were a few " natives," of an inferior caste, and who were treated as such. These latter had to console themselves with the more obscure circles. Truly, as Thackeray once wrote u A Court Kalendar is bad enough, but what is it to a sham Court Kalendar ! " It was indeed said that one dame had been lent a little "box" in the Park by a former Lord-Lieutenant, beyond the memory of man almost, and had remained ever since, all attempts to dislodge her proving unavailing. The Castle, where this Card King lived, was a great centre of the city. In my child- hood, boyhood, youth, manhood, I suppose no word rang out more loudly or more frequently in one's ears, or inspired such an awesome feeling. Often I passed it ; often was I in it. There were held the " levys," 8 &P of Dublin Society " draw'n rooms," " Pathrick's balls," dinners, concerts, and dances galore. You went from Westmoreland Street often sounded West- morehnd Street to the Royal Exchange, a rather stately building, which brought you to the steep" Cark Hill," /.*., Cork Hill, on the top of which was the awful enclosure. It was rather an imposing place, with a great gateway and a guard-house adjoining, out of which for what reason Heaven knows ! a large sort of church steeple rose. But every- thing in Dublin is more or less unaccountable. The older churches are mostly without steeples, while a guard-house has one. Within, there is a large and stately courtyard, and on the left an archway, opening on a second, viz., " The Lower Kestle yard " ; though it seems undignified to call these august en- closures " yards." Round the first court were the residences of the high and mighty officers the Chamberlain (minus " Lord ") Comptroller, all squeezed, sorely cribbed and cabined into little sets of rooms, much as 9 Recollections of Dublin Castle those of smaller degree are at the Ambassa- dors' Court, St. James's Palace. It was often a pitiable thing for those poor creatures, wives and children who had all to " cram " into these straitened apartments. Their wage was miserable enough, but there was free lodging, with occasional board, and it may be coals ; consequently, these offices were much sought after by the broken-down peer or baronet, to whom such quarters were an object ; while the Lord Lieutenant was glad to have persons of title about him. The aides-de-camp lived on their very position on the strength of which they might have been at free board every day of their life. The paid aide this was much insisted on had, I believe, about jioo a year, with quarters ; the extra, nothing. And the household ! that awe-inspiring word ! There was the " Private Secretary," the " Additional Private Secretary," and, odd to say, " Assistant Private Secretary," State Steward, Comptroller, Gentleman Usher, 10 fef of Dublin Society Chamberlain, and actually a " Master of the Horse," who looked after the job-master- hired animals mentioned already. Then came three paid aides and four unpaid ditto. There were also " gentlemen at large,"* and " gen- tlemen-in-waiting." There was the " Physician in Ordinary," " Surgeon in Ordinary," " Sur- geon to the Household," " Surgeon Oculist," and " Surgeon Dentist." These last were en- titled to appear at the levees and to be so announced, and, for aught I know, to walk in the tag, rag, and bob-tail procession. A nice lady friend of my own, suffering from toothache, hurried to her dentist, and sent in her name. " Is it see you to-day, Ma'am ? It's quite unpossible. Isn't he upstairs undressin' himself to go to the levy ? " This was actually the " state dentist," a sort of humorist, who spent half his time and the patient's in tell- ing droll stories, walking about the room, &c., the other candidates waiting patiently in the * Little Lowry Balfour was a permanent gentleman at large, taken over as in an inventory. ii Recollections of Dublin Castle parlour, but to be by-and-by entertained in like manner, and to keep other people waiting. This system extends to a good many other things in the country. The Castle was full of a number of ancient retainers who were kept " on the establish- ment " almost to their dissolution, or from the sheer force of actual occupation. When the disastrous news of an impending change of government was in the air a sort of panic set in, and the retinue, generally, " trembled in its boots." The older retainers, however, knew pretty well they were fairly secure, for the new figure-head felt that he must have experienced persons about him who " knew the ways of the place ; " these persons had, moreover, powerful friends in their old employers, who would good- naturedly " say a word " in favour of the old hand. " He has been there these thirty years, and is popular with the natives. It would break his heart were he turned out." And so, almost invariably, they kept their 12 & of Dublin Society ground, saying perhaps only it was long before that famous speech was uttered " J'y suis et fy reste" Two officers of state it was almost impossi- ble to dispense with the Comptroller or Major Domo, who knew all the ways and wiles and perhaps tricks of the Dublin trades- men what was the " right thing " to order, how much to be saved, what amount of dinners were to be given, and so on. The Court was an expensive one, and the unhappy nobleman felt he would be a victim to pillage unless he were protected. The other office was that of Chamberlain, which, as may be imagined, was one of extraordinary diffi- culty and delicacy. For no one could conceive the pressure that was put upon this official, the persuasions, wheedling, intimidation ; and to secure what ? An invitation to a ball, concert, or dinner. It seemed a matter of life and death. People unblushingly asked to be asked. A refusal brought unbounded anger, rage even ; with hints as to vengeance at the 13 Recollections of Dublin Castle next election. Often mistakes were made, and highly desirable and suitable folks affronted. It was absolutely necessary, therefore, to have a well-experienced official, who knew the whole awkward business by heart as it were, who could soothe and hold out promises, and at the proper season assume " a high tone." He should know every one who they were and what their claims. It was impossible, therefore, that a new man could be of much assistance ; rather, it was certain he would " get us into a scrape." Among these superannuated worthies was old Colonel Willis, who dated from the days of Lord Mulgrave (later Lord Normanby), and, I believe, held on till his death. He was Comptroller, I think ; I see him now, with his grey head and blue coat a veritable retainer talking of the good old times, and perhaps the butt of the new men. Who of those times 'tis forty years since will forget the jovial Captain Williams, " Bob Williams," as he was invariably known ? Every one ^f of Dublin Society knew and, I fancy, liked Bob. He, too, I think, dated from the Normanby days, had married a beautiful daughter of a local solicitor of good family which was destined to have an extraordinary rise in the world. For another of the sisters married first a baronet, and at last actually carried off the Viceroy himself, Lord Fortescue an extra- ordinary coup indeed. Nor was this all. "Bob's" daughter was married to the present Duke of Wellington, while a third espoused a baronet. A very fortunate "record" this for a Dublin solicitor's family. Bob Williams was story-collector to the Court, and, having an appreciation of the native Irish, was con- stantly repeating things he had picked up in social life. He made a particular study of the numerous fat and vulgar women who pervaded the place, always treating them with much gravity and sympathy, and thus " drawing them out." These poor dames, touched and proud at his notice, responded heartily. He was a good-humoured fellow, 15 Recollections of Dublin Castle too, and could bear a joke at his own expense, of which there were plenty afloat. C , the ex-chaplain, a hearty friend and admirer of his, was perpetually repeating Bob's adventures, and what traps he had fallen into. One of these I recall, and it was amusing in its way. Once in " Stephen's Green" the carnage of a stout dame was in some trouble, owing to restive horses, when Bob, who was passing by, gallantly rushed forward to offer his aid. He rescued the lady and her daughters, and helped to get the horses right ; then went on to the United Ser- vice Club, where he was presently relating his exploits with variations and additions to a large group of his friends. " And her gra- titude, my boys !" he went on. " I shouldn't be surprised if she left me ." At this moment a little Irish page, in a queer coat and large hat, came in, led up to Bob by the servant. " Lady says she lost her purse when ye helped her out of the carriage ; and please, she says, do yez know anything about 16 & of Dublin Society it ? " We may conceive the roar that greeted Bob. Another of these regularly " passed on " veterans was Everard Captain Walling Everard a sort of eternal Private Secretary to the Lord Lieutenant. No matter who came or who went, the cheerful Everard always " went on for ever." I knew him well, and found him always good-natured and friendly. He was supposed to know many things : for the Viceregal post-bag always brought the most singular mysteries, with applications from the most unexpected sort of people. However, he was discretion itself, consider- ing himself from long residence a regular inhabitant of the place. Adroitly enough, instead of taking any airs, he cultivated sympathetic relations with the natives, whose dinners, on a small and friendly scale, he was glad to partake of. He had thus a circle of personal friends, and I suspect was rather looked down upon as vieux jeu by his mates. The ex-chaplain had, I think, been quartered 17 B Recollections of Dublin Castle upon him as " an extra-assistant secretary," and I fancy made the quiet and old-fashioned principal not a little uncomfortable by his sarcastic tongue and raillery. Everard had built up quite a local reputation by his acting and figured largely in the yearly performances given by the Garrison. He was good in Buckstonian parts, where his exceedingly quiet drollery used to produce an effect. Indeed, he carried the thing so far as to become perfectly placid, doing little more than repeat the words. The public, however, was enchanted ; the look of the man was enough, and they supplied the rest. These Garrison ^mature Theatricals such was often the pronunciation were always given during Lent at the little theatre in Brunswick Street, " The Queen's." This was a small, poorish place, the " boxes " having only a couple of stinted rows : stalls were not as yet. Yet the ardour for seats was extra- ordinary. Everard was manager, leading comic man, rehearser and everything. I was 18 Sf of Dublin Society present when some lady and her daughters forced their way into his room to get him to grant them tickets " for one night only," for every one had to subscribe for the set of four. Their plea was an odd one. " Ah ! Captain, sure you know we're Catholics and can't go in Lent. Only on this one night, which is outside the Lent, d'ye understand." They pressed him so hard that at last he said : " Well, if you will give me in writing your solemn word of honour that you will not go to a single party or ball during the Lent you shall have the ticket." The ladies, thus " cornered," got quite confused and angry, and flustered out. " They were not going to lose their balls for the fellow. Like his impudence ! " There was one gala performance of Henry IV. at the old Theatre Royal in which our Everard vastly distinguished himself as FalstafF. This theatre was a very fine house indeed, only a size or so smaller than Drury Lane and built by the same architect. It had Recollections of Dublin Castle a very grand and spacious stage with a vast arch, from which descended the good old green curtain in swelling folds, always an addition to stage illusion. It covered a great deal of ground, having a large enclosure in front, with colonnades and dwelling-houses attached for the officials. It was, however, in a sad state of decrepitude, but rather grand in its decay. It had fine traditions, nearly every performer and singer of eminence having strutted his or her hour on its boards. I have heard Sir Henry Irving, Sir Squire Bancroft, and others speak with an affectionate admiration of the pleasure they had in per- forming there. There, too, have I heard Grisi and Mario and Lablache sing to tumultuous applause. I have seen Taglioni dance totter, rather in her decay, bien entendu ; have heard Patti, Piccolomini, Macready, the Keans. A " grand stair " led up to the boxes, and there was a grander saloon. One day about two o'clock, during the run of a pantomime, news spread through the City that the old " Royal " ftP of Dublin Society was afire. The hapless stage manager, one Egerton by name, had been at our house that very morning in reference to some amateur performance, and rushed to his theatre when he heard the news ; he never came out, but was burnt to a cinder. I must say a word of " Old Granby," as he was called, the stage manager at the Theatre Royal. He was one of the good old school in the Haymarket time, the school of Buck- stone, Howe, Chippendale, and Co., with whom Granby was, as it were, brought up. He was the legitimate old testy father and disinheriting uncle. He had a red face, a stout neck and body, and a thick, unctuous voice so necessary for such parts. As the Haymarket broke up gradually, there was no place for old Granby, and he was glad to get this berth with Harris at Dublin. I have a very early recollection of Sir Henry Irving, certainly some forty years back. Miss Herbert, with her delightful company, was at the Theatre Royal doing the 21 Recollections of Dublin Castle old comedies. I was getting a newspaper one afternoon at a shop near the theatre, kept by a good-humoured buxom lady, when two young men came in, both arrayed in rather rusted black, tight-fitting garments, and both yellow of complexion. One was most pictu- resque with his floating dark hair, altogether suggesting Jingle ; the other was a good- looking fellow enough ; but both had the regular Dickens air. When they had gone out I asked the shop lady about them was not one Mr. , the leading comedian? " Oh yes," she said carelessly, " but he's nothing at all. Ah ! Mr. Irving's the one," she added with a languishing look. " And who is Mr. Irving ? " I asked. " Oh, the nicest, most perfect gentleman, so clever, and charming in every way ! Comes in every morning, himself, for his penny paper." The other was a far more important person in every way : yet see how the charm of Irving had thus worked, even in this humble quarter. His son, H. B., is almost a replica of his sire & of Dublin Society as he appeared at this time. Never, indeed, was man, or Englishman rather, so physically adapted to the profession, or so strikingly fashioned. I little thought then that I should come to be a friend of his, or that he would rise to such eminence. I also " mind " the days when the facetious Johnny Toole was the regular first " comic man " at the little Queen's Theatre in Great Brunswick Street. He remained there for a long time. Robson also served his apprenticeship in Dublin at both the theatres for a number of years. I was amused one day to hear an English friend say in the full flush of Robson's success, " Why, he was for years in Dublin, and your stupid people never found him out." The truth was, that he was " found out " almost at once, and was generally followed and admired. It was, in fact, to his Dublin success that he owed his town engagement. Harris's leading "June Preemier," as I have heard it called, was a gentlemanly young actor of good presence, named Sydney Bancroft, the present Sir Squire, Recollections of Dublin Castle He, too, was there many years. He was ad- mirable, giving the young-lover parts just sufficient emphasis. I had much enjoyment out of our Theatre Royal. I even recall the time when it had its regular stock company old Barrett, a racy, crusted comedian, and the Ternan family, one of whom is named in Box's will. I had a sort of subscription to the good old house, which was arranged in a very singular but very ingenious way. There was an ironmonger who had bought up " for a song " numbers of the old debentures ; he divided each debenture into six parts a night for each and for thirty shillings I bought one of these, which gave admission for one night in the week all the year round not a bad bargain. Charles Kean, who was much entertained in Dublin, used to tell good stories of his Irish adventures. As at Limerick, when he was playing Hamlet, a sort of popular buffoon in a hunting cap made absurd speeches, causing roars of H fif of Dublin Society laughter. In an agony at having to go back to his Hamlet monologues after such an interruption, he gave the man money to go away. But after the next act the crowd roared for their favourite. The fellow came out : " Bedad, I cant, boys ; I'm ped by Cain not to." Another of Charles Kean's stories was of the same theatre, where an actress much advanced towards maternity was singing plaintively the song in The Stranger, " I have a silent sorrow here." On its repetition some one in the gallery called out : " Faix, and it'll soon spake for itself." In those days Kean used to come attended by the pleasing Ellen Tree as his " leading lady." I well remember the great interest excited when it was known that the pair had been married that very morning. And they actually appeared that night together as Benedick and Beatrice in Much Ado about Nothing. Needless to say, their a propos jests, " When I said I would die a bachelor," etc., were taken up and hugely Recollections of Dublin Castle relished. John Kemble, it is said, on the day of his marriage forgot all about it, and had to be fetched from the theatre. But the most inspiring of these visits, the impression of which I have never yet for- gotten, though it is a good fifty years since, was the apparition of the truly classical Helen Faucit. I see it all vividly now ; the night comes back upon me with all its charm and fair colouring. Oh, how enraptured we all were, for it was Antigone, with the temples, and the choruses, and the classical dresses, and the more classical head a noble one of the fair Helen. How we followed every note of that tender, most musical voice, chaunt rather, which wound its way into the very soul ! That classical vision haunted my boyish dreams for weeks, and does still, especially the mournful cadences of her ex- quisite voice, the noble gestures, and her grand declamation. It seemed some super- natural figure lent temporarily to this base earth. Never since have I understood in the 26 & of Dublin Society same way the solemnity of the Greek play. I lately found in an old diary a youthful critique written on this far-off performance, and reflecting the almost passionate en- thusiasm she inspired. " When the curtain drew up and showed the classic background and pillars of the Greek Theatre, even then I began to have a sense of mystery and awe, inspired by reading the play ; and was prepared, too, by the passionate introduction of Mendelssohn's music. But when she came forth, looking a very Grecian maid, her slow and graceful walk, the classical marbleness of her features, her hair gathered to perfection in the Grecian knot by a fillet, this completed the enchant- ment. A tinge of deep melancholy pervaded the whole character, from her first word to the last, as though she were one doomed. Her dress, too, the pure white under-robe edged with gold and the crimson-and-gold embroi- dered pallium, which she would disperse at times in graceful attitudes, one time resting 27 Recollections of Dublin Castle it on the back of her head like a mantilla, another time letting it droop down to her feet ! And then the sweet smile of resigna- tion as she stood waiting condemnation ! '* And what a contrast when at the close of the night she reappeared as Mrs. Bracegirdle the captivating old-time actress, who had turned the head of the city youth, and at the suit of his old father proceeded to cure him of his passion by disgusting him ! I saw this piece not long since, very fairly done by Miss Terry ; but with the unapproach- able Helen, bless you ! it was another thing altogether. It was spiritualised. No wonder that there was a young man in the city, an artist, whom she had more than fascinated, and who, well inspired, drew several classical portraits of her in her great character. He lived till recent times, and outlived her the rather wiry, grey-bearded Sir Frederick Burton, Director of the National Gallery. He was a superior artist, and his "Blind Girl at the Holy Well" was a picture that 28 #, that powerful lyric, describ- 114 SP of Dublin Society ing the hanging of a patriot, with an exciting rescue. His brother knew these things by heart, and was sometimes prevailed on to recite them, which he did with singular dramatic power and effect. Gradually the news of this performance spread. After dinner at a party the visitors would beg him to deliver his ballad, and, with a great deal of simplicity, he would seat himself on a chair in the middle of the room and begin. It was a rare treat. There was, as Mr. Crummies says, " cheers, tears, and laughter." Gradually it became a regular institution. He could not dine anywhere without its being called for. At the Castle it was of course demanded. And what shall I say of that son of Momus, Nedley, doctor to the police force, the gayest, most mercurial, and readiest of humorists ! He never for an instant failed with a retort, which was indisputable, and, on the instant, carried the other off his legs. He delighted in encountering literal people. As when he said to the wife of a famous singer, " Why "5 Recollections of Dublin Castle don't you call me in ? I hear you have got some local murderer to attend your servant." " Murderer, Dr. Nedley ? That is very uncalled for. I don't understand you ; Dr. is no murderer." He then pro- ceeded to play on this topic to the delight of her husband. Dr. Nedley could not play well unless he had his favourite partner, just as Dan Leno has his Herbert Campbell. This brings us to one who has become more known and celebrated after his death than he was in his lifetime, viz., Father Healey, parish priest of Little Bray. Few wits have made such a reputation, or have been so relished by audiences of all kinds; few have so increased " the gaiety of nations " or of his own nation. His jests were being constantly repeated, passing from mouth to mouth, with a fresh chuckle every time. In appearance he was like one of Lever's jovial priests, with a round, jocund, amazingly cheerful face, which brought good humour with it everywhere. What twinkling eyes 116 & of Dublin Society and what a roguish smile ! His wit was certainly lively ; it was always practical, and dealt with the situation not a mere playing with words. Take, for instance, his pleasant saying when he returned from travelling in the East, with a friend, who had paid all expenses. They were entering a tramcar to go to Dublin their last journey when Father Healey peremptorily restrained his friend from paying his fare : "No, no, it's my turn now! " A good specimen of his "readiness," one which he related to me himself, was his riposte to a great man, Mr. Gladstone, who had asked him to one of his breakfasts. It was a rich treat to hear him racily touch off, with his usual ingenuity, the host who had gathered an odd menagerie of free- thinkers and others, thinking, perhaps, there was a certain piquancy in the contrast of elements. In the course of the meal the great man said, his brow contracted with a portentous gravity, " What would you say to 117 Recollections of Dublin Castle this, Father Healey ? On the door of a church in Rome I saw with my own eyes an inscrip- tion that an indulgence of thousands of years was to be had all for the sum of one franc ! What do you say to that, Father Healey one franc ? " Every one was listening. " Well, and what more would you want for the money ? Isn't it dirt cheap ? " This was greeted with an approving roar of laughter; but even more amusing was the still por- tentous brow of W. E. G., who seemed to think the point had been merely turned, and not fairly met. When he and his friend Nedley were at the same table, then the fun became fast and furious. The two engaged in wit contests; gibes, personalities of the most excruciating kind were interchanged, neither was for a moment at a loss for a retort. As Dr. Johnson would say, they " downed " each other in the most amusing fashion. The servants standing by, listening open-mouthed, joined in the hilarity and general roar. 1.8 ftp of Dublin Society With this attraction, it may be conceived, Father Healey was in perpetual demand. As he told me himself, from year's end to year's end he need not have dined a single day at home. He was persona grata at the Viceroy's. But when he came to London it was very extraordinary how much he was repandu. I have met him in Piccadilly, when he would tell me that he had just been with, some royal personage dukes, earls were but common acquaintances. One day, on asking him where he was coming from, he said casually, "Just been lunching with the Salisbury*" Personally, I confess I wish there had been less of this Momus element in him, for it is scarcely compatible with a strict round of clerical life ; but we must have indulgence for the nature of the man, which, like Foote's, was quite " incompres- sible " : and also on account of the immense influences exercised upon him and the tempta- tions held out. There was yet another ecclesiastical wit, 119 Recollections of Dublin Castle also a great pulpit orator, Father Burke of the Dominicans, of a fine presence, and a face like that of Sterne's monk, that was " mild, pale, and penetrating." He had the true fire and burning words. It was cer- tainly a rare treat to hear him, but I never could concede his claims to be a wit or humorist. He was a mere joker and doer of practical jokes. The late W. J. or Dr. FitzPatrick, " the modern Suetonius," collected all these efforts, and formed them into what was called " A Life," in which he unconsciously produced an effect the very opposite of what he in- tended; and as a result the poor monk is portrayed as a rather unclerical, highly grotesque being. He worked also in the same spirit on Father Healey, Archbishop Whately, Lady Morgan, O'Connell, and others, adding certainly a new terror to death. And he was also a source of some alarm to the living. He was perpetually groping among old papers, letters, and the 120 <3f of Dublin Society like, and discovering awkward secrets. He would tell you in a cosy way, and in his high treble : "I have just purchased a number ot curious documents, in one of which there is a curious transaction relating to your grand- father. Did you ever know that he had a salary from the Government to act as spy, &c. ? I have all the documents." There comes before me now that eccentric being antiquarian, writer, novelist W. R. Wilde, afterwards Sir William, father of that luckless pair, Oscar and William. He culti- vated an abrupt Abernethy style to his patients. He was certainly very clever, and was the husband of the fair poetess Spe- ranza, as she signed herself, a rather lan- guishing heroine. Wilde had a wit of his own, as when he addressed a certain Miss Mary Travers, who later on brought an action against him, as "Ernest Moll Travers." His travels are interesting, as is his mono- graph on Dean Swift's madness. The dean's skull was dug up and handed round at a Recollections of Dublin Castle scientific meeting, at which one of the neck bones disappeared ! The fate of his two sons was disastrous, and a warning to the young Irish adventurer who thinks he can bite the pitiless granite of London. William Wilde was the typical Bohemian, the Irish strain superimposed. He passed through all manner of shifts and adventures, and " fell on his feet " once at least, having married a rich American, who tranquilly discarded him, owing to his own fault and folly. His brother's pieces are being played at this moment : his affectations, ridiculed in Patience -, were for a time an enjoyment. I always delighted in that speech of his when he went to America, which was telegraphed over to Europe, " that he was much dis- appointed in the Atlantic Ocean." There was indeed an extraordinary group of Irishmen who all about the same time set off to seek their fortune in London. These were the two Wildes, the two Moores George and Augustus and G. Bernard Shaw, son of &P of Dublin Society a Fellow of Trinity. Some of them were brilliant, others clever, and all had a certain "go" and originality and a dash of Bohe- mianism. Their adventures must have been exciting, and they certainly have succeeded in exciting public attention. There was a worthy, much respected priest attached to Westland Row Chapel, a place about the size of a small cathedral, yet oddly styled a chapel. This was Canon Pope, and a curious personage he was. He was affected by an extravagant and exuberant loyalty to her late Majesty and the Royal Family at any crisis, such as an escape from an assassin. At the mere rumour of her coming over to visit the country the canon's emotions were stirred, and he would address the august lady a letter couched in terms of almost hysterical affection and admiration. Her Majesty used to acknowledge these ad- dresses in kindly terms. All his sermons were in the same rapturous and exaggerated style. I once heard him say, and I give 123 Recollections of Dublin Castle it " textually," as the French have it " Some men will sell their souls for titles and wealth ; some for an emolumentary situa- tion ; and some," here he paused to make it more impressive, "for nothing at all!" I heard that, I know not how many years ago, but I have never forgotten the delicious unctuousness of that "em-olu-ment-ary si-tu- ation ; " he lingered over the syllables softly, as though he himself would not have been disinclined to some such situation. It was the same on any public crisis a burning down, a murder, when the Canon's feeling broke forth in a sort of flowery and, I must say, meaningless "lingo" that was all his own. The occasion, however, on which he excelled himself was on the return of the Irish brigade from the war. They had volunteered to assist his Holiness, and " Major O'Reilly of Knockabbey Castle " commanded. The party was besieged in Spoleto, and after a brief period duly surrendered as prisoners of war. After a time they were released and sent home. 124 ^f of Dublin Society The populace swarmed to the terminus to greet their heroes, among the rest our Canon, who was to make his grandest, most florid speech of welcome on the occasion. He was quite carried away ; he saw the battle-fields, the desperate struggle, and finally broke out : "Ah, my friends, the Irish Guards know well how to die, but to surrender never/" A long shout greeted this astonishing declaration, made in the most perfect belief and good faith, but exquisitely comic, when we think that it was addressed to, and cheered by, men who actually had not died, and were actually where they were because they had surrendered ! It never occurred to any one that the Canon's oration was not all gospel truth. It was duly printed in the papers, and much admired. I bethink me here of another cheerful divine, still happily flourishing, who once contributed much to the gaiety of the city Chancellor Tisdall, Chancellor of St. Doulagh. He was ever a jocund being, tall and portly, full of good stories, with a penchant for actors, 125 Recollections of Dublin Castle of whom he had known many great ones of the old school. We are not strait-laced in Dublin, and there is held to be no incongruity in these things. Our chancellor had a rich tenor voice, and sang old ballads with infinite taste. How would he give " Come into the Garden" or " My Pretty Jane," to the enrap- turing of the well-filled diners out ! Once at one of these banquets there was deep dis- appointment when it was found there was no pianist to accompany the chancellor, who thereupon appealed to me to help him. Nothing loth, I sat down, extemporised some chords, and we got through admirably. Apropos, when a well-known publisher came to Dublin, some client entertained him and myself at dinner ; the subject of music was started, and our publisher volunteered a song, which was an old and old-fashioned friend "Sally in our Alley." Our host lamented that there was no one present who knew the art of accompaniment, so we must be deprived of the pleasure, &c. " Dear me, not at all," 126 & of Dublin Society said the guest, who was rather antediluvian both in manner and garb ; " the fact is, I never do sing it with an accompaniment ; it spoils the tune." And without more ado, and pushing his chair a little forward out of the circle, he struck up " Of all the girls," &c. He went through it with all the old flourish- ings and eye-upturnings, doing, in fact, what the street ballad -singer told her offspring to do : " Curl it curl it, ye little beggar." There were a number of young girls and irreverent youths present, whose suppressed laughter it was painful to witness. All, indeed, were struggling with the same emotion, but when the regular shake came at the close there was very near by a general explosion. Who will forget the roistering Lord C , of the rubicund face and convivial habits, who was always pervading Dublin, and concerning whom there was always some strange tale circulating ! He was a survival of the old Irish pattern, fond of his glass, and not having the Baron of Bradwardine's 127 Recollections of Dublin Castle method of carrying his liquor discreetly. It was said he would " drop in " at any officers' mess whenever it suited him, and without in- vitation an unceremonious practice that was not relished. Some of us will no doubt be able to recall that odd wild being "Tom Connolly," one of the last survivors of the " rale ould Irish gintleman," who did all sorts of strange reck- less things, which yet astonished nobody, because done by " Tom Connolly." He was a thoughtless, joyous, good-humoured fellow, and a good-natured one too. He was spoken of as "Tom Connolly of Castletown," his place in the country, a good many miles from Dublin. Castletown we always sup- posed to be something magnificent after the Chatsworth pattern too grand altogether for a private gentleman. Here he once gave a sort of grotesque entertainment, half " afternoon," half ball, which began at about four o'clock, and lasted till one or two in the morning. A vast number of people drove down to the jovial 128 ^f of Dublin Society scene. I was much astonished to see this vast and stately mansion, a huge central palace with spreading wings, and vast and palatial chambers within ; but all in a dreadful state of dilapi- dation and neglect. Tom was everywhere, in a bright blue tail-coat and gilt buttons, dancing with every one, in an old-fashioned style, and keeping the fun going. What a revel it was ! The hours did not pass too slowly. Towards midnight I went out to try and find our vehicle, if I could by some happy chance ; for all were herded together in a confused mass on the lawn and in the road, or every- where. Seeking in vain in the front, I thought I would pass round through to the back, and the next instant found myself precipitated down a deep sunk fence, at the bottom of which I lay with my face turned to the stars. I was only a little stunned, but found great difficulty in rescuing myself from the abyss. It was a narrow escape indeed, as it was all lined with stones at the bottom. I could not but think of the grim story that might have 129 i Recollections of Dublin Castle found its way into the papers : the family vainly waiting and searching, and then at last the suggestion: "Oh, of course he went back to town," where equally of course he would not be found. This " mysterious disappear- ance of a gentleman " would have been a two- days wonder or talk. This entertainment suggests another of a rather singular kind, given by an American lady, no other than the mother of the patriot, Charles Stewart Parnell, who must then have been in his frocks. It was a sort of " go as you please " show. There was to be a late lunch, then a tea, and then a sort of dinner, to be followed by a dance. The idea was that the guest was to take up his residence in the house for this protracted period ! I recall meeting there the pleasant Dion Boucicault, then bringing out his a baronetcy and all Irish will recognise the nuance. One of her daughters a pretty girl enough, with a good voice was married to Sir Duncan Macgregor's son, a man the father, I mean whom I always looked at with extraordinary interest, as I ever have done on 247 Recollections of Dublin Castle one who has passed through some wonderful adventures of peril. For he was one of the few survivors that escaped from the great burning Indiaman which is a " leading case," as it were, in all the collections of " ship- wrecks and adventures at sea." He was rescued, and became head of the Irish Con- stabulary. The humorous element in this highly serious family was this that the father, generally known as " Holy Joe," was blessed with a son who was a perfect " pickle." What wrestlings had " Holy Joe " had to encounter in this connection ! He was cer- tainly sorely tried by his " Willie," and most ludicrous it was to see how this Willie felt compelled, for the mere respectability of the family, to assume a sort of serious air. When he came to the north-east circuit with us, it was a perpetual delight to see how Willie shook himself free of" Holy Joe's " influence, and drank and sang, and comported himself in a very pleasant and perhaps unedifying way. He was highly popular, I really believe, on 248