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RAMSAY COLLES.

(From the painting by Mr. J. Colin Forbes, R.C.A )

IN CASTLE AND
COURT HOUSE

BEING REMINISCENCES OF 30 YEARS IN IRELAND

RAMSAY COLLES

"The world's a stage," a stage without a light,
Whereon the actors blindly grope their way;

Happy are they whom Fortune guides aright:
For them she doth not, sorry is the play!

LONDON

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Contents

Chap. Page

I. Charles Stewart Parnell's Last Fight , . u

II. The Irish Literary Movement . . .19

III. Lecky's Candidature for T.C.D. . . .28

IV. Social Life in Dublin . .... 39
V. Queen Victoria's Visit . . . .48

VI. Some Actors and Actresses . . . -57

VII. Law and Some Lawyers . . .66

VIII. Algernon Charles Swinburne . . -75

IX. A. C. Swinburne (Continued) . . .84.

X. A. C. Swinburne (Concluded) . . .94

XI. Oscar Wilde and Others . . . .105

XII. Edward Dowden . . . . .118

XIII. Some Dublin Characters . . . .129

XIV. Public Entertainers ..... 138
XV. Some Medical Men and Others . . .147

XVI. Musicians I Have Met .... 154

XVII. Noctes Ambrosianse . . . . . 162

XVIII. Some Literary Correspondence . . . 170

XIX. Masonic Memories ..... 179

XX. An Irish Humorist . . . . . 188

XXI. Two Irish Historians ..... 202

XXII. " Far-Off Things " 210

| XXIII. Another Dublin Humorist J. M. Lowry . 217

XXIV. Some American Men of Letters . . . 225

Contents

Chap.

XXV. More American Men of Letters

XXVI. Edgar Saltus: Publicist

XXVII. A Chapter of Accidents

XXVIII. The Family of Colles in Ireland

XXIX. The Family of Colles in England

XXX. The Family of Colles in the United States

XXXI. Kings and Coronations . .

XXXII. "The Provost and Fellows of Trinity"

XXXIII. Omnium Gatherum

Page
234
244

254
265

273
283
292
300
307

List of Illustrations

Ramsay Colles (1909)

Ramsay Colles (1896) .'

Miss Maud Gonne

Mrs Brown-Potter . .

Lord Ashbourne

Algernon Charles Swinburne

The Baroness de Bazus

Irene Osgood

Professor Dowden .

Walt Whitman

George Pellew

William Colles (1702-1770)

William Colles (1648-1719)

Richard Colles (1748-1816) .

Monuments in Leigh Church

Abraham Colles (1773-1843)

Christopher Colles (1739-1816)

Frontispiece

facing page 32

98
108
116
124

224
224

. t 266
266
274
274
288
288

In Castle and Court House
CHAPTER I

CHARLES STEWART PARNELL's LAST FIGHT

Parnell's Last Fight Election in Carlow The Priest:
In Politics Hammond v. Kettle I am Presiding
Officer Sworn in at Carlow Drive to Clonegall
Midnight Visitors A Personating Agent Scenes in
Polling Booth Illiterates Innumerable I Frustrate
the Game Expostulation A Drive to Carlow Our
Armed Guard Result of Election Parnell's Atti-
tude His Return to Dublin My Sonnet to Him
His Death Father Skerrett.

AN unknown Greek philosopher remarked " Know
Thyself " ; the modern philosopher says : " Let the
Public Know ! " Acting on this excellent advice, I
proceed, as is now fashionable, to jot down what I
remember, before I am fifty, and have possibly
forgotten these " Footnotes to History."

My entry into public life commenced with my
being appointed Presiding officer at Clonegall, Co.
Carlow, when the struggle commenced between

Parnell's nominee, the late Mr Andrew Kettle, and

In Castle and Court House

the late Mr Thomas Hammond, who had the
support of the Priests.

It will be remembered that in 1891, Parnell's
private life had been very dramatically exposed to
the public gaze, and the Irish Priesthood saw their
chance to free themselves from his autocratic rule,
and threw themselves into the arena with a zest
which eventually secured for the Church the victory ;
their war-cry being, " Purity in private as in public
life."

In working to this end the priests fought to the
death. They knew no such terms as compromise.
I myself heard a young priest in the main street of
Carlow, say to a voter, " You must either vote for
this (holding out a crucifix) and Hammond, or vote
for the Devil and Parnell." Such tactics employed
by their spiritual guides had, of course, an immense
weight with an ignorant and superstitious peasantry.

I was sworn in at 3 o'clock on Monday, 6th July,
1891, by Mr John Alexander, the Sheriff, and drove
to Clonegall, and was put up at a small house for the
night.

As my clerk, who accompanied me, was a thirsty
soul, and as I was myself very dubious as to the
resources of Clonegall, I purchased a couple of
bottles of whisky, and lucky it was that I did so,
for when, in order to be fresh for the duties of the
morrow, I retired early to bed, I was so mercilessly
persecuted by midnight visitors in the shape of agile
agitators " from whom is derived the verb to flee,"
that in despair I arose, poured all the whisky into the

Charles Stewart ParnelPs Last Fight

wash basin, and proceeded to soak my pyjamas in
the pure spirit!

I then wrung the garments out thoroughly, into
the basin, and putting them on, sprang into bed,
with the happy result of a total rout of the foe and
the sleep of the just for myself!

When my clerk, who had slept at the house
of the local clergyman, a teetotaller, turned up in the
morning at 7 o'clock, I was still asleep. As the
polling booth had to open at 8, he awoke me, and
I explained the reason of the heavy aroma of alcohol
in the room. Looking into the basin, he said,
" Begorra! some poor fellah might like to have that,
I'll just cork what remains of the blessed liquor up
again." I expostulated in vain. He reminded me
that when a big whisky fire at Roe's Distillery took
place in Dublin, the crowd in the street drank the
ignited fluid as it poured down the channels, taking
their shoes off to serve them as drinking vessels.
" I'll just put the bottle in my outside pocket," he
said, " and some poor fellah '11 be glad enough to
steal it out of it! " This was exactly what happened
tliat very night in the crowded streets of Carlow.

Polling commenced sharp at 8 o'clock, many men
hanging around for the polling booth to open. I
shall not give the names of the personating agents,
but one of them was a priest. As a resident in
Dublin, and knowing little or nothing of Carlow, I
was astonished at the number of illiterates.

In order to make my statement clear to the general
reader, I must explain the method of procedure.

In Castle and Court House

If Pat Murphy, on being handed his voting paper,
says he cannot read or write, the Presiding Officer
fills a form of solemn declaration to that effect, and
having read it aloud to him, witnesses Murphy's
mark on the form. Murphy then declares aloud that
he votes either for Hammond or Kettle, as the case
may be ; but the ballot being no longer secret, the
personating agents know how he votes, and the
priest being a personating agent, becomes aware that
Pat has done as he was told to do.

As nearly every voter in the district appeared to
be illiterate, I became suspicious, and after a little
reflection, I handed the next illiterate his voting
paper upside down. He confirmed my suspicions
by turning it round, the while declaring himself
unable to read ! This was too much for me. I said
to him " Are you prepared to make a solemn declara-
tion that you can neither read nor write ? "

" I am, sir," he replied.

A happy thought struck me, " Are you prepared
to take your oath that you can neither read nor
write ?"

He hesitated. I continued, " See here," I said,
producing the familiar, so-called " Swearing Book "
(a New Testament with a cross painted on it in
white enamel). " Are you prepared to kiss that
Book ? " handing it to him, and pointing to the cross ;
" are you prepared to kiss that and swear that you
cannot read? Remember there is such a thing as
perjury, and that you can be severely punished for
swearing what is false !"

Charles Stewart ParnelPs Last Fight

The priest here sought to interfere. He saw that
things were looking very blue. He could absolve
Pat for making a solemn declaration which, though
it was false, his spiritual adviser approved of his
making; he could not shield poor Pat from the
punishment the law awards to perjurers.

I silenced his Reverence by holding up my hand,
while I continued, addressing the voter:

" Why did you turn that paper round ? "

" Och, shure ! I was only twisting it," said Pat.

; ' Well," I said, " either swear that you can't read,
or ' twist ' into that corner (pointing to it) where you
will find a pencil, and put your mark against the
name of the candidate for whom you intend to vote.
Then fold the paper in two, and put it into this box,"
pointing to the ballot-box, which stood on the table ;
" and remember the ballot is secret."

From this time on, my course was clear. In only
one case, from that hour, about 2 o'clock, until the
polling booth closed at 8 p.m., did anyone take the
oath. One and all of the so-called illiterates were
eager to make the solemn declaration, but shirked
the consequences of the oath.

The priest expostulated, but I was firm.

" Reverend Sir," I said, " You must really keep
quiet. I will take the consequences of my conduct,
and if you interfere with me any more, I shall, with
great reluctance, have you removed."

This had the desired effect, and I parted the best
of friends with all present. Later I wrote to Mr

In Castle and Court House

A. J. Balfour, who was then Chief Secretary for
Ireland, on this subject.

At twenty minutes past eight that evening
all Clonegall had assembled to see us depart. First
an Irish jaunting car with four armed policemen.
Then the ballot-box placed in a conspicuous
position on the well of the car, with my clerk on one
side with a policeman, and a policeman with me
on the other side. Then a third car, like the car
in front, with four policemen, and in this order we
drove along the country roads, on a lovely July
night, with the golden sickle of a new moon on high ;
drove between hedgerows which were prodigal
homes of unmarketable beauty, and which glistened
with the shaken silver of a recent summer shower.
Carlow was reached at five minutes to eleven, and
the ballot-box handed over to be dealt with by those
to whom the counting of the votes had been
entrusted. Our task was ended.

The result of the poll was declared at 1.20 next
day, in favour of Hammond. Parnell was very cool.
He spoke, as usual, with much deliberation, and
even with the defeat at Kilkenny fresh in his
memory, declared that this was not the end. Parnell
was always a speaker who impressed me as one
who thought first and spoke afterwards. He did not
merely talk for the sake of talking. His voice had
a fine, sonorous ring in it, and carried conviction
with it. We returned by the same train to Dublin.
Parnell hardly spoke a word all the way. As a proof

of the kindliness of the man, I may mention the fact

Charles Stewart ParnelPs Last Fight

that the first thing he did on reaching Dublin, was to
drive to a private hospital in Harcourt Street to
inquire about one of his followers who had been
injured at the previous Election in Kilkenny.

Although nominally a Conservative, I had great
sympathy with Charles Stewart Parnell, especially
in his struggle against the interference of the priests
in politics, and I addressed the following sonnet to
him, submitting it first to that severe critic, Dr
George Sigerson, who approved of it, and gratified
me by saying that he considered it very good.

To CHARLES STEWART PARNELL, M.P.

* He is not vanquish'd who renews the fight*
And open-breasted bids the foe again
Defiance, while alert he waits the rain
Of blows that fall, and, meeting might with might,
Is conscious of his strength, as of his right.
He is not vanquish'd who erect doth stand,
And holdeth fortune in his own right hand,
With face uplifted and with eyes alight.

Nay, rather, though his foes plant many a blow,
And mock his silence with untimely mirth;
Tho' marr'd his visage be beyond recall
Yea, though his blood should as a river flow

Hail him we victor, who from every fall
Riseth, Antaeus-like, from Mother Earth I

The polling day in Clonegall was the 7th July,
1891, and on the 7th October, exactly three months
later, Charles Stewart Parnell was dead! Dead?
Has anyone who has seen Charles Stewart Parneii
alive seen him after death? The Rev. Father
Skerret, a dignitary of the Roman Catholic Church,

17 B

In Castle and Court House

assured me that he did his best, as a Priest, to see the
corpse, but was refused. Father Skerret impressed
me as being a lover of truth. He died very suddenly
himself. On the last occasion on which I saw him,
an occasion made memorable to me by a disgraceful
assault upon myself, the story of which I tell later,
he said, " I declare solemnly that though I have
searched high and low, I have never met anyone,
man or woman, even his nearest and dearest, who
saw the dead Parnell."

There we may leave the matter. We may not
agree with his methods. As William Ernest
Henley pointed out, in that brilliant but short-lived
paper The Scot's Observer, Parnell had all the
qualifications to militate against his being a
Leader of the Irish Parliamentary Party. He was
a Landowner, a Protestant, and a Gentleman, and
surely when we look at

" The apes whose ancestors were men,"
we must solemnly admit this statement.

He was a man, take him for all in all;
We ne'er shall look upon his like again.

CHAPTER II

THE IRISH LITERARY MOVEMENT

Irish Literary Movement Sir Walter Besant and " The
Author " The Poets and Poetry of Young Ireland
A Literary Pilgrimage Miss Katharine Tynan W.
B. Yeats Rev. Father Russell, S.J. Rosa Mulholland
(Lady Gilbert) John O'Leary the Fenian Leader
Some Visitors to Whitehall George Pellew Some
American Writers Richard Ashe King Anecdote of
James Payn Dr Douglas Hyde " A. E." Russell-
Charlotte Grace O'Brien Dr Sigerson.

I SANDWICH between the description of Parnell's last
fight, and my account of Lecky's candidature for the
representation of T. C. D. in Parliament, an account
of some of the representatives of literature in Ireland
at a time when many who are now well known were
starting their careers.

When " The Author " was founded by Sir Walter
Besant in July, 1890, he wrote to me, asking me to
contribute an article on "Literature in Ireland." I
did so to the best of my ability, but like many another
well meant effort, my attempt to catalogue the names
of my contemporaries was not altogether well
received. This was not my fault, for the article was
mutilated in an extraordinary manner, not, I am
certain by Sir Walter; and, as an instance of the

In Castle and Court House

stupidity with which the excisions were made, I may
point to the fact that my references to a young and
rising poet who had fully justified the praise with
which his work was greeted (Mr W. B. Yeats), were
cut completely out.

Professor Dowden had laughingly remarked, on
his deciding to decline the offer of the Chair of
Literature in an American University : " I suppose
I make take out a perpetuity in Mount Jerome now."
Mount Jerome is the Protestant burial ground, and
I had used Dowden's remark without acknowledg-
ing its source, and was naturally accused of bad taste
in consequence. These were some of the troubles
that afflicted the just, but I was not much worried by
the strictures passed upon me, for I was conscious
of the fact that I never spoke a word or wrote a line
with the object of paining anyone. Swinburne paid
me the compliment of writing to me, " I am sure you
cannot have written anything to offend a sensible
reader." I mention this lest there should be any-
thing in this book that may be mis-interpreted.

The Irish Literary Movement, as it has since been
called, was started about 1886. Poets who have
since won world-wide reputations, were then either
writing verses for circulation amongst their friends,
or sending the poems to " The Irish Fireside/'
edited, I believe, by Miss Rose Kavanagh, a
charming young woman, herself a writer of graceful
verse, who, alas! was laid in a few years in an early
grave, the victim of consumption.

An attempt had been made, in 1886, to resusci-

The Irish Literary Movement

tate " The Dublin University Magazine," which was
in 1840 a publication of which Ireland might be
proud; and to this later issue, contributions were
sent by all who aspired to be literary. Mr Yeats
sent some of his earlier work to this magazine, and
in it appeared his finest dramatic poem, " Mosada."

Those were the days when pilgrimages were made,
every Sunday, to Whitehall, Clondalkin, where Miss
Katharine Tynan (now Mrs H. A. Hinkson) lived
in a delightful old farmhouse. Miss Tynan, who
has since contributed very largely both in prose and
verse, to the delight of her readers, had at that time
only a slender little volume bearing her name:
" Louise de la Valliere." It was, however, a little
book full of promise, and was followed by another
in which a great advance in her art was discernible,
" Shamrocks," for which I suggested the motto
chosen from a poem by Richard Hengist Home,
" ' Tis always morning somewhere in the world."

At the time of which I write, there was no steam-
tram to help pilgrims on their way to this literary
Mecca. Four miles, at least, of country road had to
be walked or cycled, but to young hearts full of
enthusiasm, young heads full of glorious projects,
and to the springy step of youth, what are four
miles? I used to think it was most appropriate that
the glass panels of the hall door at Whitehall were
couleur de rose, for the young writer's view of her
friends was always " kindly Irish of the Irish,"
making the most of their virtues, and quite blind to

their faults, whatever they might be.

In Castle and Court House

In the delightful low, thatched farmhouse under
the Dublin Mountains, with its tangled orchard at
the back, its garden with a sundial, its labyrinth of
little flower-beds with box borders, and its great
walnut tree, all sorts and conditions of men and
women might be met. Here a Protestant Home
Ruler hob-a-nobbed fraternally with an enthusiastic
Conservative, or a Fenian leader. All politics were
forgotten as well as were all creeds. Here I met,
amongst others, Father Russell of the Society of
Jesus, Editor of " The Irish Monthly," an old estab-
lished and ably conducted magazine, in which the
literary tone predominated. To this magazine
Oscar Wilde contributed some of his earlier verses ;
for it M. E. Francis (Mrs Blundell) wrote her first
novel " Whither? " and some of her best work.
Father Russell, a brother of Lord Russell of Kill-
owen, has a fine catholic taste in literature, and " The
Irish Monthly " represented some of the best pro-
ductions of the literary party in Ireland. Miss Tynan,
of course, was a contributor, as were also Miss Rosa
Mulholland, now Lady Gilbert, Miss Ellen O'Leary,
sister of John O'Leary (the old Fenian chief) and
Miss Dora Sigerson (now Mrs Clement Shorter) and
her sister Hester (now Mrs Piatt).

Not the least noticeable person in Whitehall was
Miss Tynan's father, a fine old man, not unlike
Walter Savage Landor in that old lion's most com-
bative moods. Mr Tynan expressed himself in
vigorous terms, and always won an audience who

listened to him with more than ordinary pleasure.

The Irish Literary Movement

" Amongst the guests star-scattered o'er the grass "
on the afternoon of a summer's day, I found Miss
Frances Wynne, the author of a very beautiful little
book of verse, entitled " Whisper." Yeats also was
there and recited to me on the road home his musical
verses on the old fisherman, with its refrain

" When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart."

Frederick Gregg, now an author and journalist in
New York, was a constant visitor, as were also W. S.
Pyper and Pococke, who wrote a clever parody on
Browning, and was joint author with my old school-
fellow, Henry Stewart Macran, of a paper entitled
Signs of the Times, which, though it did not
contain a word of sense, was read before the Philo-
sophical Society in T.C.D., and gained the Gold
Medal for composition ; a medal which the authors
refused, under the circumstances, to accept. Macran
is now a Fellow of T.C.D., and the author of an
important work on Greek music. Few men combine,
as does Macran, a knowledge of Greek and Music.

It is to Miss Tynan that I owe my knowledge of
George Pellew, of Katonah, New York. He was
then collecting the materials of his book " In Castle
and Cabin, or Talks in Ireland in 1887," which on
its appearance Lord Morley of Blackburn declared
in " The Nineteenth Century," to be one of the most
important contributions towards the solution af the
Irish problem.

A mad dog was in the neighbourhood of Clon-
dalkin at the time and many people carried revolvers.

In Castle and Court House

Pellew had to pass through a lonely stretch of road
to reach " Belgard " where Sir Henry Hayes
Laurence, Bart., a descendant of the great Indian
hero, lived, and on whom he proposed to call, but
he refused the loan of any weapon whatsoever.
Pellew and I were driven into Dublin that evening
and spent the greater part of the night at the
Imperial Hotel, discussing literature. I remember
he was enthusiastic about Wilfrid Scawen Blunt's
" Love Sonnets of Proteus," and he was the only
man I ever met, save Mr Watts- Dunton who appre-
ciated the poems of Ebenezer Jones, the author of
" Studies in Sensation and Event." I can hear him,
after this lapse of time, reciting " When the World is
Burning," a truly extraordinary poem which, like
Wordsworth's Lucy

There were none to praise
And very few to love.

Pellew it was who sent me novels by Edgar
Saltus, whose work I collected with enthusiasm, and
on whom, years after, I wrote an article in The
Westminster Review, gaining a letter thereby from
Saltus, signed " Yours attentively." Pellew also
called my attention to the verse of Edgar Fawcett,
especially to a poem entitled " Dei Gratia." He
gave me an introduction to Thomas Sergeant Perry,
of Boston, author of " From Opitz to Lessing " ; "A
Study in Neo-Classicism " ; " The Evolution of the
Snob " ; and a Study of " Greek Literature," an
exhaustive treatise on the subject. Mrs Perry is an
artist and the author of some beautiful translations

The Irish Literary Movement

from the Greek Anthology entitled " From the
Garden of Hellas." She published anonymously a
charming little volume of poems, " The Heart of the
Weed," a title explained by a quotation from James
Russell Lowell, " to win the secret of the weed's plain
heart." This little book contains a sonnet on Swin-
burne's poems to children, a copy of which I sent to
the author of " A Dark Month."

Another friend I owe to Pellew was Richard
Hovey, the American poet, author of some beautiful
verse. But I must reserve my recollections of
American poets for the section to be devoted to
Walt Whitman and other representatives of litera-
ture in America.

I have always admired Miss Katharine Tynan's
poems. One of her poems contributed to " The
Dublin University Magazine," she has, I believe,
never reprinted, but the following, which I quote
from memory is, I think, exquisite in many of its
expressions ; for instance, " Her eyes are starring
the happy shadows."

O my swallows ! hasten up from the South,

For young May walks knee-deep in the Irish meadows,

And living gold is her hair, and the breath of her mouth

Is delight, and her eyes are starring the happy shadows.

The honey-heart of the cowslip lies at her feet,

The faint fresh buds of the hawthorn trail o'er her bosom,

And the garment that covers her, fragrant and sweet,

Is the mingled rose and snow of the apple blossom.

In another poem which won my admiration she
writes of the dawn

All the East, a rose uncurled,
Grows golden at the heart.
25

In Castle and Court House

There is nothing from " the gossamer spun on the
dewy lea " to the " dawn's rose leaves shed on a
yellow sea " that she has not rendered dearer to
us by virtue of poetic association.

Mr H. A. Hinkson, a distinguished graduate of
T.C.D., I also met at Whitehall. He is the author
of one or two law books and of many capital novels,
and is a Prince of Good Fellows. He married Miss
Tynan in 1892.

Another writer I met at Whitehall was Mr Richard
Ashe King, author of " The Wearing of the Green."
I am indebted to him for the following story told him
by James Payn, the novelist. It appears that Payn
received a letter from an unknown person praising
his works. " I liked to hear my books called
' works '," said Payn, " and I replied. He wrote me
again, and I wrote in return a jocose letter. He
replied in like terms. I again wrote telling him a
funny story. He sent me a funny story. I capped
it, and in a short time I got a Roland for my Oliver.
I got a rather blue story in his next, and I wrote him
one to match it, finally I got an indignant letter, com-
mencing ' Sir, are you aware that I am a woman ! '
I often," said Payn, " blush under the bedclothes
when I think of the stories I told that woman ! "

Others who used to visit Whitehall were : Dr
Douglas Hyde, very learned in the Irish tongue,
of which he compiled a dictionary ; George Russell,
the poet, better known as " A. E.," the author of
much mystical verse ; Dr Sigerson, who wrote on

many subjects, including poets and poetry; Edwin

The Irish Literary Movement

Hamilton, the Aristophanes of Ireland ; Mr James
Bowker, an official in the G.P.O., a lover of old
books and a contributor to " The Irish Monthly " ;
and Charles Johnson and his sister, the son and
daughter of that fine old fire-eater, Johnson of Bally-
kilbeg. I have also a dim recollection of a very
charming personality, that of the late Charlotte Grace
O'Brien, daughter of Smith O'Brien, the Irish rebel,
whose statue, arrayed in a perfect frock coat,
ornaments an approach to O'Connell Bridge.

CHAPTER III

LECKY'S CANDIDATURE FOR T.C.D.

W. E. H. Lecky the great Historian Michael Hickie, a
well-known Dublin Bookseller An Amusing Inci-
dent Vacancy in Parliamentary Representation of
T.C.D. Electioneering Arguments Professor
Mahaffy's Comment My Lucky Discovery Lecky's
Early Book " The Religious Tendencies of the
Age " Irish Times v. Dublin Daily Express Lecky
and the Church Extracts from a very scarce Book
Lecky on Christianity The Church Militant My
Interview with Lecky Why I hold Unpublished
Letters His Triumphant Return for T.C.D. His
Personal Kindness to Myself.

THE first time I saw W. E. H. Lecky, the historian,
was in 1891, in a second-hand book shop kept by
one Michael Hickie. I remember Lecky, " angular
and profound," with his hands clasped behind him,
gazing at the titles of books far beyond the range
of my vision. He seemed to my fancy let me say
it with all reverence for a great man and a great
writer like an inspired giraffe browsing upon the
foliage on the topmost boughs of the tree of know-
ledge ! Hickie stood in the centre of his shop piled
up with stacks of books on every subject. A man

Lecky's Candidature for T.C.D.

came in with a volume he had picked up off the
improvised shelf outside the shop, and asked :

"What do you want for that?"

It was a shabby looking copy of the Bible.

Hickie pulled his beard meditatively, and said
" one shilling."

" It's not worth a shilling," said the man, emphati-
cally, " I'll give you sixpence for it."

Upon this Hickie awoke, and shouted " Get out
of my shop! Any man who says that the word of
God is not worth a shilling won't stop here ! "

Hickie was not religious, he told me afterwards
that he had mistaken Lecky for a clergyman!

When, in the latter part of 1895, a vacancy was
created in the Parliamentary representation of
Dublin University by the Right Hon. David
Plunket being raised to the Upper House as Lord
Rathmore, the candidates were George Wright,
Q.C., and Lecky. The fight raged hot, for both
were well known men, the one on account of his
personality, and his skill and eminence as a lawyer,
the other on account of his world-wide celebrity as
an historian. All's fair in love and war, and it is
not surprising that Lecky's opponents used as a
weapon against him his heterodox opinions as
expressed in his works, especially in " The Rise of
Rationalism in Europe," and " History of European
Morals."

A very large number of the electors were clergy-
men, and it was held that if by any possibility they

were ignorant of Lecky's works, they should be made

In Castle and Court House

aware of his having called an unfortunate class of
women, " The High Priestesses of Purity " ; and
consequently everything was done that could be
done, to intensify his supposed hostile attitude
towards Christianity in general, and the Church in
particular. He was branded not alone as an
agnostic, but as an out and out atheist, and the
simple, kindly-hearted gentleman was painted as a
very devil incarnate.

Elections in Ireland are perhaps no worse than
in England, but the absurdity of the arguments on
both sides may be gauged from the fact that one
of Mr Lecky's supporters wrote to the daily papers
pointing out that Lecky paid pew rent! This was
followed by a letter from an opponent who demon-
strated clearly that the historian, notwithstanding his
payment of pew rent, never went to church. Another
correspondent rushed into print stating that he knew
for a fact that Mr George Wright was a devout
attendant every Sunday at such and such a church!
Finally Professor Mahaffy wittily remarked that the
electors were called upon to face the problem as to
whether they would prefer to support a candidate
who paid pew rent but did not go to church, or a
candidate who went regularly to church, but did not
pay pew rent.

However laughable, at this time and distance, such
arguments may appear to be, there is no doubt what-
ever that heavy artillery was being used against
Lecky, the weapons being somewhat antiquated and,
as students of American history may remember, the

Lecky's Candidature for T.C.D.

ammunition consisted of theology as it did actually
consist on one occasion in the American War of
Watt's hymn books. After all, orthodoxy carries
weight, and the church which, as I shall prove, leant
towards Lecky's side, began to have doubts about
the wisdom of its choice.

At this critical time I was, one Saturday, wander-
ing along the quays in Dublin (almost as famous as
those in Paris, and for the same reason) in search
of old books. Seeing me passing, and knowing my
keen interest in such things, a second-hand book-
seller, Mr George Webb, of 5, Crampton Quay,
asked me in to see a book by Lecky. I entered the
shop in a most sceptical mood, for I had studied
Lecky's books, including his " Leaders of Public
Opinion in Ireland " ; judge then my astonishment
when Mr Webb produced a little volume bound in
blue cloth, entitled " The Religious Tendencies of
the Age," published by Messrs Otley and Saunders
in 1860. The book did not bear the author's name
on the title page, and there was no reference to
previous work by the same hand in its 320 pages,
but an advertisement at the end of the volume stated
that by the same author was written " Leaders of
Public Opinion in Ireland."

In addition to the book, which I eagerly acquired,
was an autograph letter from the author, written
from 14, Onslow Gardens, his residence in London,
and addressed to a correspondent in Dublin, in which
Mr Lecky evidently replied to a question with
regard to his authorship, by admitting the fact.

In Castle and Court House

Never did I pay fifteen shillings more willingly than
to Mr Webb, the bookseller, on that occasion! I
now possessed materials from which to manufacture
a bomb to throw into the camp of the enemy !

The Irish Times, the most powerful organ in
Ireland, and a supporter of Lecky, was then edited
by the late Mr Scott. " Promising Scott " he was
called, because he had a habit of promising any-
thing; and such I found him to be when later I
called upon him. The Dublin Daily Express was
owned by my friend, James Poole Maunsell, who
died all too soon. I had been connected, off and on,
with the Express as a reviewer, occasional leader
writer, etc., and accordingly to the Express I went,
and saw the late Dr Patton, who at once saw the
force of my argument, and, he having promised me
the space I required, I repaired to the offices of
The Irish Times and saw Mr Scott, who promised
me the same amount of space a full column.

The result of my perusal of " The Religious Ten-
dencies of the Age " appeared on the following
Monday morning, when my full column appeared in
The Dublin Daily Express, and not one word was
to be found in THe Irish Times! The immediate
effect of my signed letter on the subject of the con-
tents of the book, was the trebling of the circulation
of the Express, which was quoted by all the papers
in the kingdom, and was made much use of by
Lecky 's committee.

Readers of Mrs Lecky's beautiful life of her
husband, may wonder that there is no reference to

Photo, Lafayette.

RAMSAY COLLES (1896).

Lecky's Candidature for T.C.D.

these matters to be found in her pages. The fact
is that when Mrs Lecky was advertising for letters
written by the great historian, I was in Germany,
and my attention not being drawn to the advertise-
ment, I did not forward the letters written to me
by Mr Lecky, to his biographer for inspection.
Readers of that life will remember that Lecky
intended to enter the Church, and only abandoned
the idea after devoting some years to the study of
theology. The tone, therefore, of " The Religious
Tendencies of the Age," his first book, is not to be
wondered at.

As the book had so great an effect in connection
with Dublin University Election, and as it has been
quite out of print for years, and is indeed very scarce,
the following quotation may not be out of place, and
may give the reader an idea of the contents, as well
as a picture of what Lecky considered the profession
which he intended to follow to be

" The position," he wrote, " of the Protestant
clergyman is, in theory at least, one of the most
beautiful that can be conceived. It forms, as Goethe
remarked, the one idyll of modern civilisation. Our
reformers, by abolishing compulsory celibacy would
remove religion from an unamiable and compara-
tively unproductive isolation and transfuse it through
society as an ameliorating and harmonizing
influence. They would blend it with every scene of
domestic joy, with the ineffable love, and the open
sympathy, and the unclouded confidence of the

33 c

In Castle and Court House

family circle, with the ringing laugh of children and
the soaring hopes of youth. They would exhibit
in a single man the model Christian and the model
citizen ; the lights of heaven and of earth mingling
and intensifying each other. He who aspires to so
high a position should seek, in every way to make
religion in his person attractive, and to gain the
respect and the affection of those around him. Youth
should find him a participator in its pleasures, and
a cordial sympathiser with its hopes ; manhood, a
sagacious counsellor in secular matters as well as
in religion ; age, a patient listener and an unwearied
minister to its wants. He should endeavour, by
varied studies, by the cultivation of every grace, by
the ascendancy in society as would secure a
respectful attention to his statements. If he has
wit, it should coruscate with a bright, though
innocuous flame. If he possesses conversational
powers he should employ them in allaying discord
and promoting charity and adorning truth. In the
pulpit he should make his many studies converge
to a single object, deriving illustrations from the
most varied sources, culling pregnant thoughts from
the most dissimilar writers, borrowing examples from
every page of history and biography. Untenable
arguments and exaggerated assertions should find no
place in his discourses. Virulent controversy
should never be introduced into his pulpit. He
should combat error by the enforcement of truth,
and dwell rather on doctrines that are generally
admitted than on those that are questioned. Above

Lecky's Candidature for T.C.D.

all, he should represent Christianity as an ennobling
and harmonizing principle, promoting human happi-
ness and developing human capacities, a principle
designed to reform society, not to subvert it, and to
purify the enjoyments of life, not to destroy them."

Such, I wrote in my letter to the Ex-press, is the
picture drawn by Mr Lecky of the modern " man of
God," and who shall say that his brush is tinged
with either agnosticism or atheism ?

" There lives no record of reply," to quote Tenny-
son's " In Memoriam," and I drove my argument
home with but one more extract with which I shall
trouble my readers, an extract trebly valuable at the
time, as can be readily understood, for I alone
possessed the book, and I alone could quote from it!

In reference to a future life, the so-called atheist
had written

" But as finite things can never satisfy the longing
of man after the infinite, as a canker lurks in every
pleasure, and time withers life's noblest works, as
imagination creates aspirations for higher existences
and more perfect forms of enjoyment than earth can
afford, there is an object of ambition offered to us
grander than any of those things that are seen, a
state of life is revealed where the capacities of man
may be developed to the fullest extent, where his
affections may find worthy objects, his intellect an
ample range, his hopes a full completion. This life
is supplemented by death ; earth is made the portal
to heaven, and ambition finds in the future world
its noblest and its final object."

In Castle and Court House

The effect of my letter, which contained other
extracts, and closed with the words, " I have dwelt
thus long on this book, because it exhibits an attitude
towards Christianity on the part of the great historian
with which his opponents do not credit him," was
undoubtedly very great, and I was much gratified by
a letter of thanks from Mr Lecky, in which he
pathetically refers to the fact that the book was pub-
lished so long ago as 1 860. " Who would have
thought," he wrote, " that a book dead and buried
so long should arise from the tomb to confront me
now," and concluded by inviting me to call to see
him at a private hotel in Molesworth Street.

I had received another letter on the same subject.
This was from a high dignitary of the Church, and
an old friend of mine, also asking me to call. I did
so, and was much amused to find the Church was
largely represented on the occasion. I laughingly
inquired of my friend why he had summoned a spirit
like myself to face such an assembly, and the reply
was that the Church, as represented by those present,
had read the letter in the Express with much satis-
faction, but were anxious, if possible, that I should
prove from " The Religious Tendencies of the Age "
that Lecky believed in the Divinity of Christ.

Remembering the sentence given above, " Unten-
able arguments and exaggerated assertions should
find no place in the discourses of the clergy," I felt
at once the difficulty of such a task, but promised to
do my best, with which unsatisfactory assurance I
left my audience, happy in the main, and, on dipping

Lecky's Candidature for T.C.D.

further into the book, managed to write a second
letter, which occupied two columns in The Daily
Express, besides appearing in The Belfast News-
letter and Th,e Cork Constitution.

In the meantime The Irish Times remained silent
on the subject, and aroused the ire of its opponent,
which had the following:

"THE UNIVERSITY ELECTION

It is only right to state that the complete refu-
tation of Mr Lecky's critics, supplied in Mr Ramsay
Colles's extracts from Mr Lecky's ' Religious
Tendencies of the Age,' was deliberately withheld
from the readers of a newspaper purporting to
support Mr Wright. This is a fair sample of the
way in which Mr Lecky's opponents are economising
truth to serve their own ends."

I called to see Mr Lecky on the afternoon of
Friday, 29th November, and found him as serene
as if no storm were sweeping around him. He asked
me where I had found the book, and thanked me
most graciously for the good use I had made of
it. I felt sorry to be worrying him on the afternoon
of a busy day, and said so, but he replied that his
speech made during the day had not wearied him
in the least, though he had been frequently inter-
rupted. He said, " I take a pleasure in the exuber-
ance of youth." I thought of his reference to the
" ringing laughter of children " in the little book.
He referred to his forthcoming " Liberty and
Democracy," which reminded me of a promise made

In Castle and Court House

to a friend, and I asked him to sign for me one or
two copies of his little volume of poems; which he
asked me to leave with him for the purpose. These
he kindly signed and sent me.

He sat in a low armchair, his massive head sway-
ing occasionally from side to side, and his hands
clasped in front of him. I did not stay long, for he
had a public dinner to attend in an hour or so, a
function at which I also had to be present. I said
in leaving, " I feel certain of your success, Mr
Lecky ! " but he merely replied " Thank you," and
added " and thank you for all you have done in the
matter."

Lecky's return as representative of T.C.D. was
received with great enthusiasm, and how ably and
energetically he acted in that capacity is a matter of
history. He never forgot the humble but effective
part I played at that period of his career, and when,
many years later, I was a candidate for a
commissionership in West Africa, he was one of my
most ardent supporters ; and it was through his influ-
ence that I was appointed in 1896 a Justice of the
Peace for the Borough of Dublin. I may add that,
notwithstanding the machinations of many enemies,
political and social, I still retain my Commission of
the Peace.

CHAPTER IV

SOCIAL LIFE IN DUBLIN

The Two Sections of Society in Dublin Castle v.
Mansion House Sir George Moyers Same Division
in Literary as in Social Life People v. Professors
Thomas Moore Centenary Amusing Incidents Ter-
centenary of T.C.D. Aloofness of " the Silent
Sister " Some Young Poets A Don's Luncheon
Party The Poet and the Bee Lionel Johnson W.
A. Craig What happened at " The Professor's Love
Story " The Corinthian Club Some Members
Martin Harvey and Edward Terry Miss Irene Van-
brugh Chancellor Tisdall Shakespeare and Bacon
George Alexander W. S. Penley A Unique Recita-
tion The Scientific Beggar Man.

SOCIETY in Dublin may be said to be divided into
two sections composed of those who attend recep-
tions at the Mansion House and those who go to
Drawing Rooms at Dublin Castle. Very few, indeed,
are those who go to functions at both. This used
not to be so. At one time it was customary for the
Lord Lieutenant to be present at civic banquets
given by the Lord Mayor, and for the Lord Mayor
of Dublin to attend His Excellency's levees and be
present at St Patrick's ball, given on the iyth March
in each year.

In Castle and Court House

All this, however, is changed, owing chiefly to
" the great divide " made by the political feeling
which has been allowed to create distrust on both
sides, and has fixed such an immeasurable gulf
between the Castle and the Mansion House ;
between the Representative of the Crown and
Representative of the City, as is not likely to be
bridged over in our time.

Sir George Moyers, LL.D., when Lord Mayor of
Dublin in 1881, entertained the Lord Lieutenant and
Countess Cowper. This was the last occasion on
which the representatives of the sovereign were
received at the Mansion House.

This division of the body Social in Dublin is also
seen in the cleft between the representatives of the
Literary Movement in younger Ireland, and those
who represent the traditions of Trinity College.
Never, indeed, has there been a popular movement
in connection with the literary life of Ireland, that
has had the whole-hearted sympathy of those con-
nected with Dublin University. As an example, I
may point to the Thomas Moore Centenary, which
got no countenance from T.C.D., though Oliver
Wendell Holmes, from the far United States, sent a
poem specially written for the occasion, and Moore's
genius received recognition from all parts of the
world. This spirit of aloofness from the life of the
people is the great mistake made by " the Silent
Sister."

In all great popular movements there are bound

to be mistakes and fiascoes, and the Moore Cen-

Social Life in Dublin

tenary was not without its laughable incidents; the
chief of which was that the late Dennis Florence
MacCarthy, himself a gifted translator of Calderon,
and a poet whose verses on " Waiting for the May "
are as musical as any in our language, was no after-
dinner speaker, and although expected to deliver an
oration, could get no further than " Ladies and
Gentleman," despite which fact, the oration duly
appeared in the morrow's papers! Another whim-
sical occurrence was that the laurel wreath designed
for MacCarthy's brows, when placed upon his head,
fell down to his shoulders, making a necklet instead
of a crown!

The Centenary committee would have been worthy
of all admiration and true applause, if the result of
its labours had been the removal of a hideous statue
to Moore, which stands in College Street. Professor
Dowden had a good humoured jest on this, and said
that the new one to take its place should represent
the Muse giving a sound castigation to " Our
Western Bul-Bul, half Cupid, half Tom-Tit " for his
many peccadillos.

Be that as it may, Moore was a true singer, his
songs are singable, and although Professor Yelver-
ton Tyrrell in his admirable book on " Latin Poetry "
has likened his work to Horace at its worst, and has

laughed at

Fill the bumper fair;

Every drop we sprinkle,
From the brow of care,

Wipes away a wrinkle,

there are still left some to whom Wendell Holmes's

In Castle and Court House

poem on the Centenary will appeal. I quote from
memory a couple of stanzas, as the poem has not
been reprinted.

She is seated before the Clementi piano;

There were six of us then there are two of us now.
She is singing, the girl with the silver soprano,

How the Lord of the Valley was false to his vow.
" Let Erin remember," the echoes are calling,

Through the Vale of Avoca the waters are rolled,
The Exile laments while the night-dews are falling

The Morning of Life dawns again as of old.

But if T.C.D. was indifferent to a popular move-
ment like the Moore Centenary, the vast body of the
people were equally indifferent to subjects which
greatly moved the University, as, for instance, the
Tercentenary Celebrations, which were strictly
academic in tone and environment, and of which the
most noteworthy were, a garden party given in the
Fellows' garden, when a mulberry tree was planted
by Miss Salmon, daughter of the Provost; the per-
formance in the Leinster Hall of an ode specially
composed for the occasion by Sir Robert Stewart,
and the production of a play by Undergraduates at
the Gaiety Theatre.

But though the University, as a body, remained
indifferent to the Irish Literary Movement,
individual professors took a kindly interest in some
of the youthful poets. Thus I met two of these
young men at luncheon one Sunday. For policy's
sake I shall call them Bates and Thompson. I
arrived earlier than the bards and was shown into the

Professor's study. I found him busy reading the

Social Life in Dublin

poems of Bates. He handed me a volume by
Thompson, and said:

" I think it would be well if you memorised a line
or so, to fire off at the author, during luncheon. I
am choosing a line from Bates, with the same view."

The line I chose was

" How much of pain it takes to purify the world."

The day was an unclouded one in July, and when
we reached the dining-room with its French windows
opening on the garden full of summer spice and
humming air, I wondered if I had chosen my quota-
tion wisely. The Professor got in his quotation
very aptly and I was in despair. However, Provi-
dence came to my aid. A blundering bee came
buzzing in and, taking Thompson's nose for a red,
red rose, which it closely resembled, was brushed
away, only to return and bury its sting in the poet's
preface! Then there was a hub-bub, and blue-bags
and other forms of consolation were administered.
" When the tumult dwindled to a calm," I quietly
observed, " How much of pain it takes to purify the
world."

Poets are strange things whom we must not judge
harshly. One of the poets I met at this period was
the late Lionel Johnson, author of " The Art of
Thomas Hardy." I was introduced to him by a
local bard, W. A. Craig, who wrote a volume of
ballads and poems, and of whom more anon. We
dined at the hotel, and repaired to the Gaiety
Theatre, where we were shown into a small box.

In Castle and Court House

Johnson, who was quite sober, was no sooner seated
than he went to sleep, and snored very loudly. In
order to smother the sound I pulled one of the cur-
tains which draped the box around him. This only
intensified the mystery, and we were, in consequence,
the observed of all observers. The play was " The
Professor's Love Story," and to the fact that the
stage was strewn with hay, and its aroma filling the
house, I attribute Johnson's somnolescence.

The box was a small one and just held three, but
such was Craig's courtesy that he invited a lady to
join us. This lady was surprised on seeing the
snoring bard. Craig said, apologetically,

" He's a very nice fellow when he's awake."

" Oh, don't waken him on any account," cried the
lady, as she took my seat in front, and I prepared to
gaze at the back of her head during the rest of the
performance.

While I stood with my back to the door I felt
an inrush of cold air and, turning round, saw the door
quickly close. Thinking someone had made a
mistake, I faced about and once more gazed at the
coiffure of the lady in front of me. Once again an
inrush of cold air, and again a sudden closing of the
door. This time I did not turn round. When the
door opened again, I saw a man I had never seen
before, and whispered, " Do you know anyone
here ? " He did not reply, but kept pushing past me.
I repeated my query, but he remained silent, and
pushed more vigorously, whereupon I smote him,
and he fell into the passage. Craig, hearing the

Social Life in Dublin

commotion, turned as he fell, and cried " Oh my
God, my guest, Jack Moloney," or some such a
name. We, of course, rushed to the prostrate
figure and lifted him in, whereupon Craig, with
superfluous politeness, formally introduced us!
Then followed mutual recriminations, apologies and
regrets, and in the end we all went to supper, and
parted the best of friends.

Craig was Treasurer to the Corinthian Club, a club
run on much the same lines as the Savage. It was
founded by Sir Charles Cameron, C.B., the City
Analyst, who is, I believe, also a member of the
Savage Club. The Corinthians make a point of
entertaining people of note who visit Dublin. The
membership is large and includes such citizens as
Mr Justice Ross, Sir Andrew Reed, Sir George
Moyers, and Sir John Ross of Bladenburg.

The guests have been many, and have included
men and women of all ranks and professions. On
one occasion an invitation to supper for Saturday
night had been sent to Mr Martin Harvey who was
at the Theatre Royal, and to Mr Edward Terry who
was at the Gaiety. Both the distinguished actors
declined, on the plea that they were leaving for
England on the night of the proposed supper, but
they accepted an invitation to luncheon which was
substituted for supper.

As a rule the menus were adorned with verses
written by the members, and Craig's, I remember,
were exceedingly appropriate. They included the

In Castle and Court House

following, which I quote, as indeed I do throughout
this book, from memory

For when " Sweet Lavender " perfumed the air,

We knew that Edward Terry must be there ;

A compliment we also wished to pay

To Martin Harvey and his tragic play,

And found this luncheon was " The Only Way."

Miss Irene Vanbrugh made a fascinating speech
at the Corinthians, when she was a guest at a
luncheon given in her honour. If ever women sit
in Parliament, Miss Irene Vanbrugh should lead the
Opposition.

An amusing incident at the Club luncheon referred
to, was the recital by the Rev. Chancellor Tisdall
of a poem on the Shakespeare-Bacon controversy,
written by Sir Francis Brady. Chancellor Tisdall
was a picturesque figure, and he recited with vigour
the following lines from the poem

" If Shakespeare had eaten of rashers well-dressed,

Then a glass of 'John Jameson' taken,
We all would have said that his plays, at their best,

Were largely indebted to Bacon.
'Tis the banner of Matterson flies o'er the world "

Here the elocutionist was interrupted by shouts
of laughter, caused by the fact that he alone was
ignorant of the fact that his vis-a-vis at the luncheon
table was Mr Matterson, head of the celebrated firm
of bacon curers of Limerick!

On one occasion Mr George Alexander and Mr
W. S. Penley were both playing at Dublin, and were
both invited to supper by the Corinthian Club. Mr

Alexander accepted. Mr Penley, for some reason

Social Life in Dublin

or other declined, and gave a supper himself at a
well-known restaurant. I attended both functions,
and when I was the guest of Penley, I asked the
impersonator of " Charley's Aunt " if I might recite.
Everyone was disgusted, and Penley gave a very
reluctant consent. I recited the following lines by
my friend Edwin Hamilton

" 'Twas a scientific beggar-man who said,
' Of starvation I am very nearly dead;

Grant a cube of butter, please,

And a cylinder of cheese,
And a parallelopipedon of bread.' '

and then sat down.

" Have you forgotten the rest ? " asked the
chairman.

" There is no more," I replied.

Never was the conclusion of a recitation received
with such rapturous applause and with such evident
relief !

CHAPTER V

QUEEN VICTORIA'S VISIT

Queen Victoria visits Ireland Reception at Dublin
Castle A Curious Accident Miss Maud Gonne
Her Strange Statements Can a Liar be called a
Lady ? I am Assaulted The Fate of the Assaulter
The Old Guards' Union or The Blackguards' Union
Colles's Fracture Mr John Mallon, J.P. Kilmain-
ham Memories Miss Gonne carries a Dog-whip
I carry Firearms " A Kiss for a Blow " I am
Misinformed Miss Gonne's Action for Criminal
Libel The Result I am Out on my Own " An
all-Gonne Feeling " Friends to the Rescue I
Apologise The Irish Joan of Arc.

IN March, 1900, Queen Victoria paid her memorable
visit to Ireland. The announcement of the Queen's
approaching visit was made at a Reception given at
Dublin Castle on the i6th, a Reception which took
the place of St. Patrick's Ball, which is usually given
annually on the I7th of March. The reason for
this change I forget, although I was present on the
occasion.

My recollection of that particular night is very
vivid on account of a singular misfortune that befel
me. On account of my not having grown thinner

during the twelve months preceding, I had sent my

Queen Victoria's Visit

Court suit to my tailors to be, if possible, enlarged,
and had promised to call and have it tried on. I
forgot all about my promise, and on the afternoon
of the Reception I was particularly busy, so I did
not call, but sent for the suit in which I arrayed
myself in due course, and set out for the function
in the best conveyance I could procure, a heavy
brougham of the old type, drawn by two horses.
Not being a Cabinet Minister, I had the usual weary
wait in a long line of vehicles, and as I neared the
Lower Castle Yard I thought I would look out of
the window and see how matters were progressing.
With considerable exertion I managed to open the
window, and in doing so, heard a sound as of ripping
of stitches giving way! My suspicions were, alas!
confirmed when I sat down and found nothing
between myself and the carriage cushions.

" Here's a how-do-ye-do ! " said I to myself,
as I endeavoured ineffectually to discover if the
" rent " were as great as that attributed to Cassius.
The friend who accompanied me, an Army Captain,
endeavoured to console me by saying it was " all
right " and he would get me " pinned up " if I drove
back to the Club. Seeing that there was nothing
for it, I consented, stipulating, however, that the
gallant Captain was to wait until the entrance to the
Castle was reached, and then leave me to my fate.
This he declined to do, and accordingly we got out
of line and drove to the Club, where my garments
were pinned together, including the tails of my coat,
and we returned in time to arrive at the tail end

49 D

In Castle and Court House

of the long line of carriages. With the skilful
manipulation of my hat, which I held behind me
with both hands I bowed to Their Excellencies,
Lord and Lady Cadogan, and passed on, but I could
not help reflecting that my condition was representa-
tive of the condition of the country generally! Of
a land of old renown, of which the inhabitants claim
to be the descendants of kings, while they them-
selves are content to career about in battered hats
and with no seats in their nether garments!

Of course, Queen Victoria's visit was the cause of
not a little political agitation. In the City Hall
long and loud were the debates as to whether or
not an address of welcome should be presented to
Her Majesty, and I am glad to say that my old
friend Sir Thomas Devereux Pile, Bart., then Lord
Mayor of Dublin carried the day and duly read the
address to the Queen.

One of the most active of the agitators at this
period was Miss Maud Gonne, " a daughter of the
gods, divinely tall and most divinely fair." I met
Miss Gonne some years earlier in the studio of Miss
Sarah Purser, A.R.H.A., who painted a portrait of
Miss Gonne and of Mr Michael Davitt, M.P. I
also sat, at her request, to Miss Purser, and as the
hour at which I did so came between those of the
other two sitters, I used to complain of being placed
between Beauty and the Beast.

Miss Gonne was at this time publishing statements
in two papers, one published in Paris, called
Ulrelande Libre ; the other published in Dublin

Photo, Chancellor.]

MISS MAUD GOXNE.

Queen Victoria's Visit

and entitled The United Irishman. She wrote for
the French paper, articles which were translated fof
the Irish one. In one of these articles she stated
that the Irish soldiers ordered to the front in the
South African War were put on board the transports
with manacled wrists. I took exception to such
statements, and even went so far as to state in print
in a paper of which I was then proprietor and editor,
that she was a liar. This led to much unpleasant-
ness, as will be seen.

The Queen arrived on Wednesday, the 4th of
March, and entered the city about one o'clock. I
spent the Saturday following in acting as one of the
stewards in the Phoenix Park, when Her Majesty
inspected some 50,000 children, and on Monday I
invited several people to view, from the windows of
my office, the Royal procession, as it passed through
Grafton Street.

At about half past one o'clock I found a man wait-
ing to see me. He had on a top coat, and had his
arms folded in quite a Napoleonic fashion. I asked
him what he wanted. He replied by asking me if
I were Mr Ramsay Colles. On my saying " Yes,"
he struck my silk hat off my head, saying " then take
that." I was completely surprised, but I at once
grappled with him and found that the stick he
carried was a South African jambok (made of hide)
and that therefore I could not break it. There were
round the walls of my office a number of short swords
which I had purchased at a sale. I took off my
frock coat and placed it and my silk hat in a place

In Castle and Court House

of safety, locked the door, and offering one of the
swords to the man, I said, " defend yourself, or you
will not leave this place alive ! " He made no offer
of resistance, whereupon I assumed the airs of a
maniac, and chased him round and round the board-
room table which stood in the centre of the large
room. Finally he tripped over something and fell,
and I said to him, " If Her Majesty were not passing
through this street under these very windows, I would
throw you out of them." I then opened the door,
and said, " Get out." He said " I won't." I settled
the matter by taking him by the back of the neck
and handing him over to the constable on duty at
the corner of the street. He was taken to the police
station and brought up before Mr Byrne, a divisional
magistrate, by whom he was fined one pound or
fourteen days, and ordered to find two sureties of
five pounds each to keep the peace towards me.
This he refused to do, and was sentenced to another
fourteen days, exclaiming as he left the dock, " I'll
not enter into any bail to keep the peace towards Mr
Colles."

The report of this case caused some agitation, and
a body of men entitled " The Old Guards' Union,"
sent me a report of the proceedings of their august
corporation, in the course of which it was resolved
that I should be summarily dealt with for having
slandered a lady. I replied in my paper that I cared
little for either the Old Guards' Union or the
Blackguards' Union, and if any of their number visited
my office they might bring the City Ambulance with

Queen Victoria's Visit

them as I should give them Colles's fracture,
referring thereby to the double fracture of the radius
known by that name. I was visited by some of these
" boys " a little later. One evening, when talking
in my office to a friend, a man shuffled in and asked
random questions about the paper and some of its
contents, and pretended lo look over the file. My
friend being suspicious, suddenly opened the office
door and three men who were waiting outside cleared
off at once, only to be hastily followed by the one in
the office.

It is not astonishing that under these circum-
stances that Mr John Mallon, J.P., Assistant-Com-
missioner of Police wrote to me, warning me to carry
firearms, and telling me that " Miss Gonne has
landed; she carries a dog whip." Mr Mallon also
added that I was shadowed by the police. In reply
I wrote:

" DEAR MR MALLON, Thanks for your letter. Did
you ever in your youth read a little book called ' A
Kiss for a Blow ' ? There is no knowing what may
happen to Miss Gonne if she hits me."

I called to see Mr Mallon, whose name is well
known in connection with the Phoenix Park murders,
the story of which he told in his book " Kilmainham
Memories." All the time I was seated with Mr
Mallon, police constables kept coming into the room
and saluting and then stating such a fact as " Her
Majesty is just past the South Circular Road now,"
and Mr Mallon would look at his watch and take a

In Castle and Court House

note of the fact. At last he said, with a sigh, " I
wish to God she was out of the country."

" Why? " I asked, " do you fear any trouble? "

" No, no," he replied, " but I've got some informa-
tion that Maud Gonne intends to make herself a
nuisance by organising a row of some kind or
another."

I was much interested, and doubly so when Mr
Mallon said, on parting, " and, of course, you know
that Miss Gonne has ^300 a year pension."

I did not know, but thought it would do some
good to call public attention to the fact, which I
did in the next issue of my paper, The Irish Figaro,
printing on the poster " Maud Gonne's Pension." In
the paper I pointed out that Miss Gonne, if she con-
tinued to agitate as she was then doing, ought to
drop her pension. The result was that Miss Gonne
took an action against me for criminal libel.

The action was based, not on what I had written
in the paper, but solely on the contents of the poster.
The case presented one curious feature, viz., that
the Crown Prosecutor, Mr J. H. Campbell, K.C.,
M.P., instead of prosecuting me, was defending me!
Of course the National Press commented on the fact.
The case was heard by Mr Swifte in the Southern
Police Court. When Miss Gonne appeared leaning
on the arm of the late John O'Leary, the old Fenian
leader, she was loudly cheered, whilst I was greeted
with hisses!

There is no use in raking up the ashes of the
dead unhappy past, but in order to understand my

Queen Victoria's Visit

case, I may refer to the fact that Miss Gonne's
language with regard to Queen Victoria was in the
very worst of bad taste, and the lengths to which
her absurd opinions drove her can be seen in the
fact, that she, the daughter of a Colonel in the British
Army, wrote advising the Irish soldiers in South
Africa to shoot their officers.

Sergeant Dodd, Q.C., now Mr Justice Dodd, and
the late John F. Taylor, Q.C., appeared for Miss
Gonne. Mr Campbell (ex- Solicitor General for
Ireland), made an eloquent and able defence, but Mr
Swifte had no option but to return the case for trial,
my own bail being accepted.

If I could have stated from whom I got the
information, there would have been much foment,
and I deemed it best to be silent. In certain quarters
I asked for assistance, and even went so far as to
beg that a question might be asked in the House,
but I was told not to harass the Government, who
had decided not to prosecute. Under these circum-
stances, and as I had no personal grudge whatever
against Miss Gonne, whom I had met in social
circles in Dublin, on several occasions, I followed the
advice of my Counsel, and apologised. On my way
back from Court, where we appeared before the late
Sir Frederick Falkiner, now succeeded as Recorder
of Dublin by that very able lawyer, Mr Thomas L.
O'Shaughnessy, K.C., I told my friend Mr J. F.
Taylor, Miss Gonne's Counsel, that I would apolo-
gise to her not alone in the Figaro itself, but also
on the offending poster, which accordingly was done.

In Castle and Court House

My friends rallied round me, a subscription list was
opened and a handsome sum subscribed to pay my
law expenses, and relieve me of what I described at
the time as " an all-Gonne feeling."

I have never seen Miss Gonne since I sat opposite
to her at the Solicitor's table in Green Street
Court House, but I learnt that the reason why she
took this action, was because Michael Davitt accused
her of being a spy. I never deemed her to be a
spy. My belief was that a special grant was made
to her and her sister as daughters of a distinguished
officer, who had died very suddenly of scarlatina by
being housed in insanitary barracks at Kilmainham,
but I never had an opportunity to explain this to my
fair prosecutor, who has been designated " The Irish
Joan of Arc." All I can say is that if Joan of
Arc was half as beautiful as Miss Maud Gonne, no
man could possibly have been found willing to burn
her!

CHAPTER VI

SOME ACTORS AND ACTRESSES

Mrs Brown-Potter and Kyrle-Bellew I appear with Mrs
Brown-Potter in "La Dame Aux Camelias "
" Armand has Won! " " There's Gold! Gold! !
Gold !!! "Consternation of Kyrle Bellew No
Gold! Sir Frederick Falkiner's "At Home "Mr
Hugh Fleming "Mr and Mrs Brown-Potter! "
Mrs Brown-Potter as an After-dinner Speaker
Amateur Actors I appear as "My Blue-eyed Boy"
The Hero and the Lancet Sir Henry Irving T.C.D.
Historical Society's Banquet " My dear fellow-
worker Ellen Terry " Anecdote of Irving John
Fergus O'Hea Herman Vezin Romola Tynte The
Split Infinitives Sir Herbert Tree May Fortescue
Helen Ferrers Bram Stoker Frankfort Moore
Surgeon Parke.

I HAVE had the pleasure of meeting many actors and
actresses, not a few of whom I count among my very
good friends. In connection with the Corinthian
Club I have already mentioned some notable names.

I sometimes amuse myself startling people by
telling them that I have appeared on the stage with
Mrs Brown-Potter!

The facts are these: When Mrs Brown-Potter
and Kyrle Bellew were playing at the Theatre Royal,
Dublin, in " La Dame Aux Camelias " ; they wanted

In Castle and Court House

two or three ladies and gentlemen in evening dress
to walk on the stage in the gambling scene. All
that these amateur actors and actresses had to do,
was to watch the play at the tables and pretend to
play, and for this purpose they were provided with
imitation banknotes and gold coin. At a certain
cue they were to cry out " Armand has Won ! " and
when supper was announced, to say " Ah, Supper ! "

Wilfred Cotton, whose name is familiar as late
manager for Forbes Robertson, and whose wife, Ada
Reeve, is even better known in the theatrical world
than he is himself; was then the Resident Manager
of the Theatre Royal. He did not think a rehearsal
necessary, but introduced the amateurs to Mr Mus-
grave's manager, who was running the company, and
he, considering the few words that had to be spoken,
contented himself with giving verbal instructions.
All went well. " Armand has Won ! " was given at
the proper time, as was also " Ah, Supper ! " ; but
to the annoyance of Kyrle Bellew, all the amateurs
cleared off to " supper," leaving the gold and notes
with which they had been provided, on the gaming
tables in full view of the audience!

Those who remember " La Dame Aux Camelias,"
will recollect that the heroine returns almost imme-
diately to the front to be pelted by the hero with
gold, who, as he flings it in handfuls at her, cries
" There's Gold ! Gold ! ! Gold ! ! ! " Mr Kyrle Bellew
had little or no gold to fling, and asked hurriedly for
it. I had all my coins to hand him, and had noticed
that little heaps of sovereigns had been left on the

Some Actors and Actresses

tables, but did not dare to touch them, lest the
audience should notice the fact, and take me for a
thief! The last time I had the pleasure of a chat
with Kyrle Bellew was in the Lyric Theatre when
my friend Baroness Orczy's play ' The Sin of
William Jackson " was produced.

The Recorder of Dublin, at that time Sir
Frederick Falkiner, gave an " At Home " for Mrs
Brown-Potter. Mr Hugh Fleming, her advance
manager, will forgive me for recalling the amusing
incident which occurred on that occasion, when the
servant, noticing the attention paid by Mr Fleming
to Mrs Brown-Potter as she entered, flung open the
drawing-room door with the announcement " Mr and
Mrs Brown-Potter ! "

Mrs Brown- Potter is one of the most beautiful of
women, and most versatile and graceful of actresses.
I am glad to think that through my suggestion she
was asked quite recently by Mr Evans-Jackson,
Honorary Secretary of the Imperial Industries Club,
to respond to the toast of " The Ladies." Her speech
was so remarkably fine, and the delivery so admir-
able, that I will be forgiven for quoting the most
noticeable passage in it. " We women occupy a
great place in the field of work to-day. We go
shoulder to shoulder with men; you cannot better
yourselves without helping us; you cannot help us
without bettering yourselves. I know and feel our
power, our influence increases with yours. It matters
really not much whether you agree to let us cast a
paper into a ballot-box or not, without voting we

In Castle and Court House

influence politics, science, and art. Who trains and
develops the future statesman, scientist, artist, and
merchant prince the future unknown ruler? his
Mother; who stimulates the man within his own
home and inspires him to plant the flag of his
ambition on some high hill in life ? his Sweetheart ;
who helps the man perplexed and worried with the
stress and cares of life ? his Wife ; who delights and
charms existence for the old, and makes him prize
the evening of his life? his Daughter. Men and
women go hand in hand and heart to heart through
this life we have gained through our work a position
of great importance in the world of toilers which no
one can take away."

Apropos of amateur actors, I once played the part
of the hero of Jerome K. Jerome's pretty little curtain
raiser " Sunset," under somewhat trying circum-
stances.

The heroine was a very charming young girl, since
happily married, but at that time engaged to a very
jealous young man, a medical student. As readers
of " Sunset " will remember, the heroine sinks into
an armchair, exclaiming:

" He is coming, my own dear love, my Blue-eyed
Boy, my King, my Darling" !

This was the cue for my appearance! The first
night of the performance I merely played in the same

manner as that in which Miss and I had

rehearsed it. But I had to moderate the Blue-eyed
Boy's transports at meeting his Beloved on all later

occasions, for the medical student, who was an

Photo, Huber, Edinburgh.

MRS. BROWN=POTTER.

Some Actors and Actresses

athletic youth, watched the proceedings on the stage
from the wings with a " lancet " in his hand, prepared
to let out the hero's gore if he should exhibit any
symptoms of warm bloodedness! The play ran for
three nights, and at the closing performance the
heroine had to make love to a very nervous hero !

One of the best amateur performances I ever saw
in my life, was that of " The Ballad-Monger," given
by a very youthful company of amateurs at " Win-
stead," Upper Rathmines, when Professor Dowden
lived there. Some of my readers may care to see
the following which I wrote on the occasion

The " Ballad-Monger " once I saw them play

(That merry, youthful company I knew);

The starving poet weighed a ton or two,
And poor Loyse wept like a rainy day
When he would supplicate the stars, and pray

To them for bread, as he was wont to do.
The fair Juliette, with hair of ebon hue,
The king, the page, the barber all were gay.
And as I gazed I yearned that I might see

What Fate for each might in the future hold.
Shall Gringoire win as fair a maid ? Shall she

Homage receive from poet half as bold ?
Who'll shave the barber? Who will Juliette gain?
The Sphinx is silent, and I ask in vain !

I met Sir Henry Irving on many occasions, the
last being at the Inaugural Supper of the College
Historical Society, given at the Shelbourne Hotel
on 22nd November, 1894. He was the guest of
the evening, and attended the function after appear-
ing in " Nance Oldfield " and " The Bells " and was

very warmly received. His health was proposed by

In Castle and Court House

the late Senior Fellow, Dr George Ferdinand Shaw,
and, in responding, Irving paid a graceful compli-
ment to his " dear fellow-worker, Ellen Terry." Mr
Richard Tweedy contributed a recitation to which
Irving listened with evident pleasure.

My friend, John Fergus O'Hea, the artist, told
me a rather amusing story of Irving.

When Irving paid his first visit to Ireland, he was
called upon by O'Hea who wished to make some
lightning sketches of the great actor. Having made
a few thumbnail portraits, O'Hea said :

" May I ask, Mr Irving, if you can give me a
photograph? It may assist me in completing these
sketches."

" Certainly," replied Irving, producing a couple
of dozen photographs of himself, " you can have
which you like."

O'Hea chose a photograph, and then as he was
taking leave, said, " Will you add to your kindness,
Mr Irving, by signing this photograph ? "

" With pleasure," said Irving, and, taking up a pen
he wrote across the foot of the photograph :

" To my very dear friend " he paused, and turn-
ing to O'Hea, asked in the charming manner, which
all lovers of Irving will recall with a sigh, " What
name did you say ? "

I saw that grand old man, Herman Vezin first,
when many years ago he appeared at a recital given
by him and Miss Romola Tynte. I must say I
greatly admired Miss Tynte's recitations. And her

portrait by Sant inspired the following sonnet

Some Actors and Actresses

addressed to her, and published in The Dublin
Evening Mail in 1887, when I was twenty-five

flower-like form! fairer than fairest flowers

A Dante's rose aflame with Heaven's clear light
Thou glowest, star-like, tremulously bright,

Breathing effulgence on the soul's dark hours;

E'en brightening with thy light the cloud that lowers,
And hides from human eyes life's utmost bound;

For when thou standest with mild beauty crown 'd.
Under no weight the spirit longer cowers,
But turneth, like the sunflower, to the sun

The sun : the Truth : to which the soul aspires.
So shall it be until all days be done

When Beauty speaks when, as by lightning's fires,
We see that Truth and Beauty are as one
To move the soul up never-ending gyres !

1 wrote a dramatic poem for Miss Romola Tynte,
which Herman Vezin wrote her was very good, and
advised her to recite it, saying " I would do it if
I were you."

Never have I heard any recitation to equal in
force and fidelity, Herman Vezin's recital of Edgar
Allan Foe's " The Raven," which was the interpreta-
tion by a magician of the work of an artist in words.
The last time I met the great actor was at the now
defunct Pharos Club when Lady Warwick and other
advocates of so-called " Rational Dress " for women
were present. I asked Vezin " Why, what brings you
here ? " He replied, " To see the Split Infinitives ! "

Sir Herbert Tree and Lady Tree I have met at
Professor Dowden's. Mr Beerbohm Tree, as he was
then, appeared with Julia Neilson in " The Dancing

In Castle and Court House

Girl." Miss Neilson won all hearts by her beauty
and her impersonation of the heroine. Mr Tree as
his scapegrace the duke, was most impressive,
especially in the final act before the play was altered
to suit the playgoers who want a happy ending, and
I was particularly struck by Mrs Tree's quiet force-
fulness as Sybil the cripple girl. Another actor who
won not a little praise for his dignified conduct on
the stage, was Sir Herbert's bull-dog, now deceased.
I wrote a leading article in The Dublin Evening
Mail on the performance, and had a letter from Mr
Beerbohm Tree thanking me for my appreciation of
the play. This letter I showed to the Editor of
the paper referred to, whereupon he sent me one of
his inimitable sketches showing Tree on one side and
myself on the other of the following duologue

Says Ramsay C. to Beerbohm Tree,
"Your acting doth o'erpower me."
Says Beerbohm Tree to Ramsay C.,
" You are a critic, Sir, I see."

Tears of appreciation were falling from my eyes,
which Tree was depicted as catching in his hat!

At Dr John Knott's I met the Garthornes and
Miss Helen Ferrers, the gifted sister of that charm-
ing actress, Miss May Fortescue, whom I first met
at Mrs Orr William's house at Blackrock. Miss
Fortescue made a decided hit in the dramatic version
of Ouida's " Moths," in which Miss Ferrers appeared
as the Countess. Mrs Knott's sisters were married
to Mr Bram Stoker (for many years Sir Henry

Jrving's manager, and eventually his biographer), and

Some Actors and Actresses

Mr Frankfort Moore, the author of many delightful
novels. Mr Bram Stoker's " Dracula " and other
weird tales are very powerful.

With this connection with the stage it is not sur-
prising that Mrs Knott frequently entertained leading
actors and actresses as well as the representatives of
other professions, for Dr John Knott is a specialist,
of whom more anon ; and it was in 34, York Street,
that I was introduced to the late Surgeon Parke, of
South African fame, to whom a monument was
erected in the grounds of Leinster House. Surgeon
Parke was a very remarkable man who died
quite young, the result of an arduous life in a very
trying climate. His book on Stanley's work has had
a big circulation. His sister is married to Mr
Herbert Malley, the well-known solicitor. On one
occasion someone looking at Mrs Malley, asked me,
" Is she a professional beauty ? " " No," I replied,
" Mrs Malley is content to be an amateur."

Another representative of the stage whom I met
was the beautiful and gifted Lily Hanbury (Mrs
Herbert Guedalla), whom I had the pleasure of
taking in to supper on an occasion when the late
Provost of T.C.D., Dr Edward Salmon, the great
mathematician, took in Mrs Tree. Miss Hanbury, I
remember, talked chiefly of Canada, under the
impression that I had been there. I never have !

CHAPTER VII

LAW AND SOME LAWYERS

Some Eminent Lawyers Lord Ashbourne Sir Edmund
Bewley John Mayne Colles, LL.D., J.P. Sir
Edward Carson J. H. M. Campbell, K.C., M.P..
ex-Solicitor-General for Ireland John Gordon, K.C.,
M.P. for Londonderry The Dublin Boundaries Bill,
1900 The Added Area The Area not Added
Drumcondra and Clontarf Sir John Atkinson (now
Lord Atkinson), Attorney-General for Ireland, and
the Boundaries Bill Drumcondra Petty Sessions
I sit at Drumcondra Mr James Brady, T.C.
Messrs Ennis and Hanmore Amusing Proceedings
Gilbertian Situation I give Costs against the
Crown Proclamation by the Lord Lieutenant A
Case in London I am Receiver Robinson Printing
Company v. Chic Limited Mr Justice Warrington
decides against me An Appeal Lords Justices
Vaughan Williams Romer and Cozens Hardy
Re-trial I emerge Triumphant A Precedent in
English Law George Dames Burtchaell, Athlone
Pursuivant.

THERE are very few eminent representatives of the
law in Dublin whom I have not met inside the
Courts, if not outside. Lord Ashbourne, Lord
Chancellor for Ireland, 1885-1892, 1895-1906,
married a Miss Colles, herself the daughter of a

lawyer, the late H. J. Cope Colles, Principal Taxing

Law and Some Lawyers

Master for Ireland. The late Judge, Sir Edmund
Bewley married her sister. Their brother, John
Mayne Colles, LL.D., J.P., Registrar in Lunacy,
edited a very interesting diary kept by his grand-
father, John Mayne, in 1814, and is author of one or
two legal handbooks. Mr Lecky, the historian, gave
me a letter to Sir Edward Carson when I was appli-
cant for a Commissionership in Western Africa, a
post for which I was recommended by, amongst other
lawyers, Mr J. H. M. Campbell, K.C., M.P.,
ex-Solicitor General for Ireland, and Mr John
Gordon, K.C., M.P., South Londonderry.

I have always had a great respect for the law, and
a great reverence for lawyers, although some of the
incidents in my career may seem to prove the con-
trary, as, for instance, my conduct in connection with
the Dublin Boundaries Bill of 1900. The facts are
these. The Act of 1874, section 12, lays it down
that every spirit dealer must have his license renewed
at a licensing petty sessions. Now the Boundaries
Bill detaches Clontarf and Drumcondra (two suburbs
of Dublin) from the County for all criminal and civil
business and expressly declares that County Dublin
Magistrates shall cease to have jurisdiction. Under
aii Act of George III. the Dublin City magistrates
received more than usual powers, and the area of
their jurisdiction was defined. Clontarf and Drum-
condra were not included, and the Boundaries Bill,
which was, I believe, framed by the then Attorney-
General for Ireland, Sir John Atkinson (now Baron

Atkinson, K.C., P.C., Lord of Appeal), did not clear

In Castle and Court House

the matter up. Hence the crux ; the tangle which I
resolved to set straight.

Under the Boundaries Act, the County magis-
trates were unable to sit at Drumcondra, and, of
course, the Divisional magistrates refused to go out-
side their recognised sphere of jurisdiction. There
was nothing for me to do but to go as a borough
magistrate and hold Petty Sessions in the neglected
area!

Accordingly, on the morning of Friday, i8th
January, 1901, I appeared at the small Court House
at Drumcondra, on one of the windows of which had
been pasted the following:

" NOTICE. Drumcondra Petty Sessions will not
be held here in future for the hearing of cases which
have arisen since the I4th inst. Cases arising in
the Drumcondra Petty Sessions District, County
Dublin, will be heard at the Gymnasium, Claremont,
Glasnevin, on i;th January, 1901.

H. DUFFY, Clerk of the Petty Sessions."

Entering the Court House I asked to see the
Petty Sessions Clerk, to whom I presented the great
Parchment Document issued in February, 1896 (just
five years earlier) when Her Majesty's Commission
of the Peace had been assigned to me. Mr Duffy
was dumfounded! He had never anticipated such
a turn of events. While very respectful, he declined
to produce the Petty Sessions Book, and remained
as far in the background as possible.

The legal gentlemen present were the late E. A.

Law and Some Lawyers

Ennis, a barrister (instructed by Messrs Ennis and
Machen), and two well-known solicitors, each with a
large practice, Mr James Brady, T.C., and the late
Michael Hanmore. But, strange to say, there were
no persons present to represent the prosecutors!
The Royal Irish Constabulary, who are usually very
much in evidence at such proceedings, were con-
spicuous by their absence! Only one sergeant
and he in what may be styled " undress " uniform
after first casting furtive glances from outside the
door and windows of the Court, at last entered with
a tread as noiseless as one on the track of a burglar.

Thus, as The Dublin Evening Telegraph wittily
put it, there was presented, perhaps for the first time
in the history of Ireland, the spectacle of a Court
with a magistrate eager to dispense justice, advocates
armed cap-a-pie, panting to enter the lists for their
clients, but no police constable willing to prosecute,
not even deigning to put his foot inside the Court.

I shall not weary my readers with an account of
the proceedings, which were very amusing and lasted
for over an hour, but will content myself with an
extract from Mr Ennis's speech, in the course of
which he said :

" We have been invited to nothing less than a
burlesque here to-day. The action of the authorities
was like that of a person who put an advertisement
into a newspaper, ' Lodgings to Let,' and then when
someone went down to engage the lodgings they
found that the bill had disappeared off the window.

Evidently law is to be administered no longer in

In Castle and Court House

Drumcondra, and the inhabitants of the district will
find themselves face to face with the fact that ' the
enterprising burglar ' who loves to hear ' the little
brook a-gurgling, or listen to the pleasant village
chime/ may burgle with impunity; the cut-throat
pursue unmolested his career in crime, and the coster
indulge without molestation in his favourite pastime
of jumping on his mother." Mr Ennis also referred,
in mock grandiloquent language, to what he
facetiously called " The lapsus lingua of the law ! "

The Dublin Boundaries Bill had been advocated
by the Lord Mayor, Sir Thomas Devereux Pile,
Bart., and Mr Ennis's remarks included one to the
effect that Lord Mayor Pile might be censured and
opposed on account of attaching to the City of Dublin
a new area in which crime can be committed with
impunity! Ennis familiarly known as Gasparo
Ennis had a pretty wit. Addressing the Bench, he
said:

" You give me one pound costs against Constable
O'Shea, your Worship ? "

His Worship Certainly.

Mr Ennis (to Sergeant Joyce) What is the name
of the new Inspector General ?

Sergeant Joyce Colonel Neville Chamberlain.

Mr Ennis I'll apply to him for this money if
Constable O'Shea does not pay up.

The proceedings ended by my endorsing the
summonses on which defendants attended ; " No
appearance, costs awarded 2os."; thus giving costs

against the Crown ! The matter was ended, months

Law and Some Lawyers

later by a Proclamation by the Lord Lieutenant,
Earl Cadogan, K.G., including the disputed areas
within the new area. What Sir John Atkinson or
Sir Patrick Coll, chief crown solicitor for Ireland,
thought of the affair, I never ascertained, but Sir
Thomas Pile told me, with a smile, that he thought
I ought to be transported.

Gasparo Ennis's love of a practical joke got me
into trouble with the late Michael Hanmore. Ennis
produced a letter from Mr Spencer Lyttleton, at one
time secretary to Mr W. E. Gladstone, in which it
was stated that Mr Gladstone was glad to hear that
Mr Philip Keogh, B.L. was engaged on a life of
Mr Hanmore, but that with regard to the book
being dedicated to him (W.E.G.) he preferred to
leave the matter to his own discretion. Hanmore
took an action for libel and, of course, I had no
defence, but he eventually forgave me for my part
in the matter, and was quite friendly when he
appeared at Drumcondra on the unique occasion to
which I have referred.

Years later I created a precedent in English law
which is frequently cited ; and will be found in the
" Yearly Practice."

In 1904 I was receiver for the Debenture Holders
of Chic Limited, and in order to keep the paper
going I assigned to the Printers, the Robinson
Printing Company, of Brighton, a portion of the book
debts. To this action the Debenture Holders, Mr
William O'Malley, M.P., and Mr John Cansfield,
then Manager of Pearkes Limited, objected. An

In Castle and Court House

action was taken by Robinson against Chic and came
before Mr Justice Warrington, who said I had far
exceeded my powers as Receiver, and held that " the
Receiver had no power to give a charge or lien on
the Company's property."

The Robinson Printing Company appealed, and
on 24th November, 1904, the case came before Lord
Justice Vaughan Williams, Lord Justice Romer and
Lord Justice Cozens-Hardy, who sent the case for
re-trial, with the result that Mr Justice Warrington
gave judgment in favour of the Plaintiffs, as reported
in nearly a column of The Times, iyth April, 1905.
In delivering judgment with personal liability
against the defendants, I was (I presume inadver-
tently) referred to as " the Defendant, Colles," and
accordingly, I wrote to The Times from The Royal
Colonial Institute of which I was at the time a
Fellow:

" My attention has been drawn to a statement in
your issue of the i;th inst, in which I am referred
to in the above trial (Robinson v. Chic) by Mr Justice
Warrington as ' the Defendant, Colles.' As his
Lordship's judgment was given with costs and
personal liability against the defendants, I shall be
much obliged by your insertion of my statement to
the effect that I was no party to the trial. My acts
as Receiver for the Debenture Holders were ratified
by the decision of the learned judge, which creates a
very important precedent in law."

This letter was given a conspicuous position in
The Times.

Photo, Laf.iyitte ]

RIGHT HON. EDWARD GIBSON, LORD ASHBOURNE, P.C.,
Lord High Chancellor of Ireland, 1885-6, 1886-1892, 1895-1906.

Law and Some Lawyers

This has, I fear, been a dull chapter, but, after all,
it is not every man who has driven a coach-and-
four through an Act of Parliament and created a
precedent in English Law.

Apropos of the law, I once had the pleasure of dis-
covering in the original MS. " The Laws of
England " of Henry de Bracton, translated word for
w rd and line for line by Richard Colles, who was
called to the English Bar in 1842, and died Sheriff of
Castlemaine, Victoria, in 1883. This volume I had
strongly bound, and I then presented it to the Royal
Irish Academy, of which I was at the time a
Member, and in the library of which it now reposes.

When a boy at Bective College, a school referred
to by Thackeray in his " Irish Sketch Book " as one
in which there were more prizes given than there
were pupils, I was ground in English Literature by
Mr John Ross (now Mr Justice Ross) who had a
very brilliant career at T.C.D., and has had the
almost unprecedented good fortune of being made a
judge at forty years of age. Mr Seymour Bushe,
K.C., and Mr Richard Meredith (now the Master of
the Rolls) acted as my counsel on more than one
occasion. Mr T. M. Healy, M.P., has also appeared
on my behalf, and won my case for me. One of the
most brilliant lawyers I ever met was Constantine
Molloy, Q.C., a criminal lawyer of remarkable
acumen. Molloy was a friend of Neilson Hancock,
Clerk of the Crown and Hanaper, a post ably filled
later by J. Nugent Lentaigne. Hancock's sister
married Professor James Thompson, a brother of

In Castle and Court House

Lord Kelvin. I knew Hancock's nephew, W. J.
Hancock, who used, when we were boys, to tell
me stories of his illustrious uncle's doings. Young
Hancock went to Perth, Western Australia. He
was a remarkable boy, perhaps the most remarkable
I ever met, save only young Bell, the inventor of
the Edison- Bell phonograph.

I must not forget my friend George Dames
Burtchaell, who is a specialist in Genealogies and
Registrar of the Office of Arms, Ireland, and Inspec-
tor of Historical MSS., and Athlone Pursuivant, and
has more than once been summoned before the Com-
mittee of Privileges of the House of Lords in cases
of disputed titles, notably in the late case of the
Claims of the Countess of Yarborough and the
Countess of Powis to the Baronies of Fauconberg,
Darcy de Knayth and Mcinill. Burtchaell was
successful as to the first two Baronies, and conse-
quently the Barony of Fauconberg was allowed to
the Countess of Yarborough and the Barony of
Darcy de Knayth to the Countess of Powis.
George Dames Burtchaell was also engaged
in the case of the claim of Lord Mowbray
Segrave and Stourton to the Earldom of
Norfolk, created in 1312. This was not successful,
but the main point at issue has not been decided.
These are the only two instances of a member of the
Irish Bar only being engaged in purely English
cases.

CHAPTER VIII

ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE

Algernon Charles Swinburne Ralph Waldo Emerson
William Wordsworth My Visit to the Lake Dis-
trict Keswick I stay in Coleridge's Cottage next
Greta Hall I wind Wordsworth's Clock! Canon
Rawnsley Mrs Lynn Linton " Her Autobiography
of Christopher Kirkland " Robert Southey Gras-
mere I sleep all night at the foot of Wordsworth's
Grave Professor Dowden on " Intimations of
Immortality " Thomas Gray Swinburne and
Wordsworth.

IN his " English Traits," Ralph Waldo Emerson in
describing his visit to Walter Savage Landor, wrote
"He pestered me with Southey, but who is
Southey ? " This statement so roused Swinburne's
ire that he referred to Emerson as an " impudent and
foulmouthed Yankee Philosophaster." Although I
trust I have never been guilty of being impudent or
foulmouthed, I must confess that in my sixteenth and
seventeenth years I " pestered " a great many people
with Swinburne. Until 1878, or thereabouts, my
" great poet " was Wordsworth, and I diligently read
all the Lake Poets and studied the writings of De

In Castle and Court House

Quincey. So great was my enthusiasm that I paid
a visit to Lake Land, tramping over the whole of
that beautiful country on foot.

In order to more closely follow the career of
Wordsworth, I, in my enthusiasm first visited
Cockermouth, the birthplace of the poet, and then
repaired to Keswick, where I had the happiness to
stay for a week under the hospitable roof of Miss
Christopherson who resided in the cottage next to,
and in the same grounds as Southey's house, Greta
Hall. In this cottage Samuel Taylor Coleridge
lived for some time. It was the residence of
Southey's model landlord. Miss Christopherson had
purchased at a sale a large grandfather's clock, once
the property of Wordsworth, and this clock she, to
my great delight, permitted me to wind ! It was one
of the old-fashioned kind which told the day of the
week and of the month, and the changes of the moon.

During my short sojourn in Keswick, I had the
pleasure of being introduced to the Rev. Canon
Rawnsley, who has written well and wisely on the
Lake Poets, and is a poet himself of no mean powers,
his forte being " the weaving of the sonnet." Canon
Rawnsley is related to the Tennysons, and is thus
a link between two Poets Laureate. Mrs Lynn
Linton was expected to arrive shortly, but I could
not await the day of her arrival and did not see her,
though later she invited me to what she facetiously
called her " mansion in the skies," referring thereby
to her flat in Queen Anne's Mansions. I bought in

Keswick a three volume copy of " The Autobiography

Algernon Charles Swinburne

of Christopher Kirkland," in which those who read
between the lines discover the autobiography of Mrs
Lynn Linton, and I had one or two letters from her
during my stay in her beloved Keswick. On a
Sunday I walked beside the Greta and attended the
church in which Lough's monument of Southey
recalls a great and gracious memory to his forgetful
country; and heard Canon Rawnsley preach. I
visited the graveyard at the side of the church and
read on the tomb in which Southey's ashes repose,
the injunction

Not to the grave, not to the grave,
My soul descend to contemplate
The form that once was dear.

I was young and impressionable, and I must con-
fess I burst into tears, for Southey, thanks to my
friend Edward Dowden, is to me no mere name. He
is a living presence, and this humble tribute to the
fine monograph on Southey in " The Englishmen
of Letters " series, is the lowest stone on the cairn
of praise erected by many readers, the apex being
the judgment pronounced by Sir Henry Taylor, who
knew and loved Southey, and who said of Professor
Dowden's book that for him it made Southey live
once more. Higher praise than this could not be
given.

But I could not stay long in Keswick, and one
evening in July I determined to push on to Grasmere.
I started at 8 p.m., and walked along the dusty road

In Castle and Court House

through the beautiful Vale of St. John, looking out
for the cottage described by De Quincey, who gives
a humorous account of seeing at midnight in
December, when the frost was keen as it can be in
the Lake District, a mammoth in shirt-sleeves sitting
smoking in the front garden! When I visited the
district the mammoth, no doubt, had long ago
departed to those regions where the good mammoths
go, and I passed his cottage as silent as my shadow
cast by the full moon.

Walking beside the shore of Lake Thirlmere, I
came upon a group of workmen whose daily work
was, like old Kaspar's, done ; and who were enjoying
their pipes before turning in. They were engaged,
I learned, on the works, just then in full swing, for
the carrying of the waters of Thirlmere to Man-
chester. I was invited by the foreman to inspect
some of the machinery, and I readily consented to
do so, though it was nearly eleven o'clock, and when,
having followed the many windings of the tunnel
into which I was taken, and having listened to
elaborate descriptions of the machinery employed,
I emerged a wearied though a wiser man, I found
it was midnight.

I had intended to put up at the Old Swan Inn,
about a mile nearer Grasmere, but when I reached
it, the Inn was closed and evidently untenanted.
This was the Inn, it will be remembered, at which
Scott used to call daily for a glass of beer, when
staying with Wordsworth, who was a teetotaller, and
how the Inn-keeper disconcerted Scott by inquiring

Algernon Charles Swinburne

one day as he passed with his host, whether he would
have his glass as usual! I also was disconcerted to
find the Inn closed, but I pushed on into Grasmere
passing the little church on my right and walked up
to the door of the modern hotel, the Rothsay. It
also was closed. They keep early hours in Lake
Land.

Not a twinkle from the fly,
Not a glimmer from the worm.

Windows fast and obdurate !

How the garden grudged me grass !
Where I stood the iron gate

Ground its teeth to let me pass!

I did not like to be selfish. There was evidently
no hall porter, and I did not wish to disturb the rest
of the sojourners in the hotel. There was also another
good reason for my not applying my hand to the
knocker or the bell, and that was a huge mastiff who,
unlike the gate, " ground its teeth " but would not
" let me pass." Every movement I made was to
the accompaniment of a growl from this Cerberus,
I therefore beat a retreat without enquiring with
Coleridge " What is it ails the mastiff bitch ? " I
was like Browning's serenader at the villa

" So wore night; the East was grey,

White the broad-faced hemlock flowers :
There would be another day.

'Ere its first of heavy hours
Found me, I had passed away."

Passed away, but not to any great distance. I had

In Castle and Court House

marked the church and the churchyard as I passed
them, and I opened the little wooden gate and went
to the church door, but it was, as I expected, locked.
Then I explored the churchyard with the view of
finding a resting-place, but there was none. I had
a warm cloak in the double strap which held the
tramp's outfit on my back, and wrapping this about
me, I made my lodging on the cold, cold ground,
agreeably cold on this lovely July night; and with
the light of the moon overhead and the music of the
river Rotha in my ear, wearied with my tramp from
Keswick, I slept soundly.

I awoke at about six o'clock and glancing round,
the first object that met my eyes was a tombstone
bearing the name " William Wordsworth." Rising,
I sat on the low stone wall that runs round the
churchyard, and read also by the increasing sunlight,
the familiar name of Hartley Coleridge and also that
of Jane Clough, the mother, I believe, of Arthur
Hugh Clough. This incident was referred to by
H. A. Hinkson, Barrister and Novelist, in a skit he
published at the time of the T.C.D. Tercentenary,
and was pointed out to me before I met Mr Hinkson.
Referring to those who visited Professor Dowden's
house on Sunday afternoons, he says " those who
assemble there include all kind of students of English
literature, from the youth who has just discovered
that there is a difference in style between the work
of Tennyson and that of Browning, to the enthusiast
who sought inspiration by sleeping on the grave of

Wordsworth." When I mentioned to Professor

Algernon Charles Swinburne

Dowden the fact that I had slept at the foot of
Wordsworth's grave, he enquired with all the gravity
of the true humorist: " Had you any Intimations
of Immortality'?"

Years after, when I edited the poems of Hartley
Coleridge for Messrs Routledge, my knowledge of
the Lake District proved of immense value to me,
for I knew every inch of the ground. I ascended
Skiddaw when in Keswick, and admired the Cockshot
Woods praised by Gray, who was, as Mr Edmund
Gosse pointed out, the pioneer in praise of the Lake
District. In his admirable volume " English Litera-
ture in the Eighteenth Century," my friend Thomas
Sergeant Perry clearly proved how up to Gray's
time, any great elevation was always looked on in
poetry as " horrid." Gray loved the mountains with
all the love which Wordsworth afterwards displayed,
and was the first to praise their grandeur, and make
the reader of poetry have a true sense of their
sublimity.

My readers will naturally ask what has all this
to do with Swinburne? The link it must be con-
fessed is slight. I began with the intention of
devoting the chapter to Swinburne, but the reference
to Wordsworth led me off on a side track. Swin-
burne, it must be remembered, was a Wordsworthian
all his life, and his tributes to Wordsworth in prose
and verse are many, ranging from the reference to
him in the sonnet on Thomas Carlyle's " two vene-
mous volumes of Reminiscences," in which he is

referred to as

81 F

In Castle and Court House

" One whose clear spirit like an angel hung
Between the mountains, hallowed by his love,
And the sky, stainless as his soul, above:"

to the famous essay on Wordsworth and Byron which
appeared in i;< The Nineteenth Century," and is
reprinted in the " Miscellanies."

In the Life of the author of a little book very
popular in my childhood, entitled " Amy Herbert,
or the Happy Home," we are told that the writer
accompanied Lady Jane Swinburne and Algernon,
then a little boy, to call on Wordsworth. The old
poet received his visitors courteously and, patting
Algernon on the head, enquired if he knew any of
his poems. Yes, Algernon knew several of them,
including " We are seven," and " The Pet Lamb."
Wordsworth was pleased, and remarked that a know-
ledge of his poems would not do the boy any harm.
So far as his readers are aware, a knowledge of
Wordsworth had no ill effect on Swinburne, who
praised Wordsworth with a poet's discernment in the
essay referred to, pointing out the ^schylean quality
of such verses as those on Peele Castle with their
" trampling waves " as a phrase worthy of him who
wrote

irovTitov re KVfiaTwv avqpiBfiov yeXaoyia

and praising in glowing language the beauty of such

lines as

" She is known to every star
And every wind that blows,"

from that otherwise prosaic poem " The Thorn."

Algernon Charles Swinburne

Swinburne cannot be discussed in this chapter,
but must be referred to in the next. My readers must
be content to accept, so far as this chapter is con-
cerned, the lines of Landor

" Pass me. I only am the rind
To the rich fruit that you will find,
My friends, in every leaf behind."

CHAPTER IX

A. C. SWINBURNE (CONTINUED)

The Warden of Alexandra College Rev. R. Perceval
Graves Professor Mahaffy Dr W. J. Chetwode
Crawley The Life of Sir William Rowan Hamilton
Professor Mahaffy on Old Age Swinburne's Prose
and Poetry " Under the Microscope " I write to
Swinburne His Letters to me A Forgotten Poem
by Swinburne Richard Herne Shepherd Swin-
burne's " Cleopatra " Swinburne and the Irish
Unionist Alliance A Quick-change Artist !

THE first person I ever met who knew Swinburne
personally was the Warden of Alexandra College,
Dublin, the Rev. R. Perceval Graves, who wrote the
" Life of Sir William Rowan Hamilton." When that
book was first published I met one Sunday afternoon
Professor John Pentland Mahaffy whose fame is
world-wide as a scholar, and in particular in connec-
tion with his books on Greece. We met as we had
done before, at the house of that genial member of
the Senate of T.C.D., Dr W. J. Chetwode Crawley,
n, Merrion Square, at one time the residence of
the Lord High Chancellor of Ireland, Lord Ash-

Algernon Charles Swinburne

bourne who, on several occasions held levees there.
Professor Mahaffy praised the book but laughingly
said in the course of his remarks, " Graves has no
sense of humour, he writes for instance, ' Hamilton
was not much of a poet, but on one occasion after a
very tempestuous crossing from Holyhead to Dublin,
he threw off the following sonnet ' ! "

Knowing Dr Chetwode Crawley's love of humour,
I said " A pTopos of ' throwing off/ I have been read-
ing some of Milton's prose works."

" Are they worth reading ? " asked Mahaffy.

" Oh, yes," I said, " I think they are, for instance
he says, a propos of your remarks, * there are some
people full of such a queasy spirit of luke-warmness
that they would give a vomit to God Himself!' '

Crawley was amused when I added that Mr Alfred
Austin, the Poet Laureate had a sonnet written on
a cross-channel steamer, in which he exclaims:

" England, I reach forth my soul to thy shores."

It was on that occasion when discussing old age
in general, and " De Senectute " in particular, that
Professor Mahaffy said:

" The most marvellous old man I ever met was
after the siege of Paris. It was at a civic banquet
given to celebrate our deliverance from having to
eat cats and dogs and rats and mice. He was one
hundred and eight and as gay as a lark ! A marvel-
lous man! But I am sorry to say there were some
very wicked French actresses present, and he went

In Castle and Court House

away with the worst of them, and was found dead in
his bed next morning ! "

" Well," I said, " the moral is, I suppose, ' beware
of wicked French actresses ! '

" Ah, yes ! " said Mahaffy, gravely, " when you are
a hundred and eighth

Professor Mahaffy, it will be remembered, does
not confine his attention to Greece, he is also the
author of a charming book on " The Principles of the
Art of Conversation," a delightful volume dedicated
to the Marchioness of Zetland.

The Rev. Perceval Graves was a picturesque
figure. He also was a Wordsworthian, and knew
Wordsworth personally, as readers of Alexander
Grossart's edition of the prose works of Wordsworth
are aware. I first met Dr Graves at Professor
Dowden's house, " Winstead," Upper Rathmines,
when the visitors included a son of Louis von Ranke,
the great historian.

At that time the poems and prose of Swinburne
were to me " a wonder and a wild delight." His
" Study of Shakespeare," the first volume of his prose
which I read, seemed eloquent as a poet's apprecia-
tion of a poet, and the grand chorus in " Atalanta in
Calydon " haunted me with the magnificence of its
music, while the " Erectheus " was full of the sounds
of battle and of a breaking sea. I read every scrap
of printed matter to which Swinburne's name was
attached, and as I had not the means to purchase
everything, I transcribed from volumes in Trinity

College Library, or in the National Library of

Algernon Charles Swinburne

Ireland, all his fugitive contributions to The
Athenezum, The Spectator, and other papers,
besides his articles on Marlowe and Beaumont and
Fletcher, which appeared in the " Encyclopaedia
Britannica." Thus I possess at the present moment,
the work of my youth, in the shape of a MS. volume
of Swinburne which Mr Watts-Dunton has told me
is unique. The contents include transcriptions of
Swinburne's letters to Lord Houghton and to Sir
Henry Taylor, and also a poem which appeared in
'' The Contemporary Review," a most amusing
parody of Tennyson's " Despair," entitled " Disgust.''

As time rolled on I acquired copies of " Once a
Week " containing Swinburne's short prose story
" Dead Love " with the illustration by M. J. Lawless
and the first edition of " Bloody Son " which appeared
later under the title of " Fratricide " in the first series
of " Poems and Ballads." Thus I became word-
perfect in Swinburne's poetry and prose, and have
frequently been complimented by Mr Watts-Dunton
on the fact that I have so faithfully memorised long
passages from both.

In 1886, when I was twenty-four, I became much
interested in a controversy which had aroused bad
blood as early as 1872, that which arose out of the
publication of Robert Buchanan's " The Fleshly
School of Poetry," and Swinburne's reply, entitled
" Under the Microscope." I found that the latter
was completely out of print, and it struck me that I
ought to suggest to Swinburne to reprint it. Accord-
ingly I wrote in November, 1886, to the poet, care of

In Castle and Court House

his publishers, Messrs Chatto and Windus, and
received in reply a postcard on which Swinburne
wrote that he would very much like to see a copy
of the pamphlet in question. I happened to mention
this fact to Professor Dowden, whose Sunday after-
noon receptions found me a frequent visitor at
" Winstead," Temple Road, Upper Rathmines,
where he then lived, and he, with the ready kindli-
ness which is one of his leading characteristics,
offered to lend me a copy of the pamphlet. Having
secured this, I wrote to Swinburne on the subject, and
he replied, saying that his friends had often advised
him to reprint the pamphlet, at the same time cutting
away the merely ephemeral passages of satire or
controversy.

My readers will naturally ask, " Where are these
letters ? " My reply is that my good friend Mr Watts-
Dunton, who has seen the letters and finds them
quite worthy of printing, in face of his public
announcement that no letters of Swinburne are to
be printed, cannot see his way to allow me to
print them, a decision he told me, caused him not
a little regret. Mr Watts-Dunton is Swinburne's
sole executor and even if I could rebel against his
decision I would not do so, for his unfailing kindness
to me on many occasions is counted amongst the
most pleasurable experiences of my life.

I have, however, received his permission to give
the gist of the letters, though not their ipsissima
verba.

Swinburne's wishes with regard to the pamphlet

Algernon Charles Swinburne

made me very enthusiastic, and I wrote offering to
transcribe it and prepare it for the press. This offer
Swinburne accepted in the most gracious way, and I
spent my evenings for nearly three weeks busily
engaged in making a clear and faithful transcription
of the little book from cover to cover, and when com-
pleted, I sent it off to " The Pines " with a letter
expressing the pleasure it had given me to meet his
wishes, and taking the opportunity to ask one or two
questions in connection with passages and references
in his poems which had puzzled me.

One of my questions was as to the identity of the
persons referred to in the following verses

There lived a singer in France of old
By the tideless, dolorous Midland Sea ;

In a land of sand and ruin and gold
There shone one woman, and none but she.

Another inquiry was as to where I should find the
verses addressed by Landor to Victor Hugo, to which
reference is made in a footnote in " Essays and
Studies."

In his reply, Swinburne, after thanking me for the
MS., which arrived safely, told me that the " Singer
in France " and the lady, were Rudel and the lady
of Tripoli, whom, he pointed out had been the sub-
ject of one of Robert Browning's shorter lyrics ; and
he informed me that Landor's lines to Hugo are on
page 1 60 of his " Heroic Idylls," and added: " Lest
you should not have the book by you, I transcribe
them for you separately." This he did, and I give

In Castle and Court House

the lines here with the words he wrote under
them

VICTOR HUGO

Whether a poet yet is left

In France, I know not and who knows ?
But Hugo, of his home bereft,

In quiet Jersey finds repose.
Honour to him who dares to utter

A word of truth in writ or speech;
In Hugo's land the brave but mutter

Half one, in dread whose ear it reach.

Under these lines Swinburne wrote

" Written by Walter Savage Landor, at. 88,
and transcribed for Ramsay Colles by
Algernon Charles Swinburne."

The letter which contained these lines, which were
clearly written on one side of a sheet of notepaper,
concluded as follows, and I feel sure I shall be for-
given for the pride with which I transcribe them :

" And now, having replied to your various
queries, let me thank you again very cordially for the
great trouble you have taken and the great obligation
you have conferred on, Yours very sincerely,

A. C. SWINBURNE."

During later years whenever a passage in his

writings puzzled me, I ventured to write to the poet,

Algernon Charles Swinburne

and always received a courteous answer, generally
by return post. With Mr Andrew Lang I admire
the verses on Cleopatra which appeared in an early
issue of the " Cornhill Magazine," and I suggested
to Swinburne to reprint them, but he replied that
they were scribbled off to accompany Mr Frederick
Sandys' " noble design," which had been used as a
frontispiece to the " Cornhill," and added that he had
written another set of verses to serve as an illustra-
tion to the same artist's " Gentle Spring," which was
printed in the " Royal Academy Catalogue." This
was fresh news to me. I turned to R. Herne
Shepherd's Bibliography of Swinburne and failed to
find any reference to these verses, and wrote to Mr
Shepherd, telling him. He replied he had looked
up the lines in the catalogue, and transcribed them
for me.

The verses on Cleopatra were not reprinted
because George Meredith had protested against their
re-appearance, saying that they were a travesty of
Swinburne's worst style. Nevertheless, they contain
some memorable and haunting lines as, for instance,
the following

She holds her future close, her lips
Hold fast the face of things to be;

Actium, and sound of war that dips
Down the blown valleys of the sea,

Far sails that flee, and storms of ships.

The poem was prefaced by a clipping from the
first sketch of " Chastelard," which was never pub-

In Castle and Court House

lished, the lines being attributed to " T. Hayman,
Fall of Anthony, 1655."

" Her beauty might outface the jealous hours,
Turn shame to love and pain to a tender sleep,
And the strong nerve of hate to sloth and tears;
Make Spring rebellious in the sides of frost,
Thrust out lank Winter with hot August growths,
Compel sweet blood into the husks of death,
And from strange beasts enforce harsh courtesy."

The poem of " Gentle Spring," being buried in
the Catalogue of the Exhibition of the Royal
Academy of Arts for 1 865 (page 20), I transcribe for
the delectation of those to whom every scrap of
Swinburne's verse gives pleasure

O virgin mother of gentle days and nights,
Spring of fresh buds and Spring of swift delights,
Come, with lips kiss'd of many an amorous hour,
Come, with hands heavy from the fervent flower,
The fleet first flower that feels the wind and sighs,
The tenderer leaf that draws the sun and dies ;
Light butterflies, like flowers alive in the air,
Circling and crowning thy delicious hair,
And many a fruitful flower and floral fruit
Born of thy breath and fragrant from thy foot.
Thee, mother, all things born desire, and thee,
Earth, and the fruitless hollows of the sea
Praise, and thy tender winds of ungrown wing
Fill heaven with murmurs of the sudden Spring.

In 1893, when Gladstone's Home Rule Bill roused
into being at the call of Mr Culverwell, F.T.C.D.,
one of the strongest political organizations in Ireland,
The Irish Unionist Alliance, Swinburne was

Algernon Charles Swinburne

appealed to for a poem, and wrote his " A Song for
Unionists." In the MS. which I saw, were the

lines

See the ravens flock to feast
Dark as robe or creed of priest.

It was pointed out to the poet that on a great
political question like Home Rule or Unity, the
people should be united, and that the reference to
priesthood in these lines might lead to disagreement
and possibly disintegration of an otherwise united
body, and he was asked to substitute another line,
which he did by return post, as follows

See the ravens flock to feast

Dense as round some death-struck beast,

a reading which was adhered to on the appearance of
the poem in the collected edition of 1904.

CHAPTER X

A. C. SWINBURNE (CONCLUDED)

Walt Whitman W. M. Rossetti I try to raise Subscrip-
tion in Ireland for Whitman Correspondence with
Good Gray Poet Swinburne's Earlier and
Later Criticism of Walt Whitman" Under the
Microscope " " Whitmania " " The Damnedest
Simulacrum " Lilian Cabot Perry Her " Heart of
the Weed " John Addington Symonds The King's
Inns, Dublin Mr Thomas Wright I call on Swin-
burne and Wafls-Dunton The Pines, Putney Hill
Mr Alfred Noyes.

LOOKING back at my life I appear in 1886 to have
had more time at my command than I have ever had
since. I had purchased early in 1879, or thereabouts,
John Camden Hotten's edition of a selection from
Walt Whitman, with a Preface by Mr W. M.
Rossetti. In some way, possibly by lending it, I
lost this book, and, on trying to get another copy,
I found it was out of print. I at once wrote to Messrs
Chatto and Windus and communicated with Mr
Rossetti, with the gratifying result that a new and
handsome edition in buckram was issued, the pub-
lishers, in acknowledgment of my suggestion, sending
me a copy.

Mr Rossetti was the soul of courtesy and wrote

Algernon Charles Swinburne

me several kindly letters on the subject, in his
beautiful handwriting, expressing his old admiration
for the author of " Leaves of Grass." I had heard
that Walt Whitman was very ill and in lack of
money, and I wrote to him to Mickle Street, Camden,
New Jersey, suggesting the raising of a subscription
in Ireland. He replied:

" DEAR FRIEND, I shall gladly accept anything
which you and my Irish friends care to give. Take
leisure and time about it, and let it be large or small,
or nought at all, if Destiny so decide. (Professor
Edward Dowden must not be approached, as he has
already been most generous.) I was out for two
hours to-day in the sunny mid-day hours, and
enjoyed them much, WALT WHITMAN."

I wrote to many of my friends on the subject, but
got no response. This disheartened me, and in the
end I had to content myself with sending the poet
2, and telling him I would make the sum an annual
subscription. To this he would not consent, and
sent me for the money his two volumes, " Leaves of
Grass " and ' Two Rivulets," each copy being
signed. Until his death I sent the 2, and at last,
having many copies of his books, I sold the auto-
graphed volumes to the National Library of Ireland,
on the shelves of which they now repose under the
guardianship of that true lover of books, Mr Thomas
W. Lyster, M.A., the Librarian, whose name is
familiar to all students of German literature in con-
nection with his admirable translation of Duntzer's

In Castle and Court House

" Life of Goethe." I also sold to the then Provost
of T.C.D., Dr Jellett, copies of " Leaves of Grass "
and " Specimen Days."

When I wrote to Swinburne about the reprint of
" Under the Microscope," I ventured to ask him if
his opinion of Whitman was as high as when he
addressed the American poet in " Songs before Sun-
rise "

Send but a song oversea for us,

Heart of their hearts who are free.
Heart of their singer to be for us
More than our singing can be;
Ours in the tempest at error,
With no light but the twilight of terror;

Send us a song oversea!
Sweet-smelling of pine leaves and grasses,

And blown as a tree through and through
With the winds of the keen mountain passes,

And tender as sun-smitten dew;
Sharp-tongued as the winter that shakes
The wastes of your limitless lakes;
Wide-eyed as the sea-line's blue.

Swinburne replied that he still genuinely admired
Walt Whitman's best earlier work, but that his indis-
criminate admirers had made him " sick of the man's
very name," and, he added, " I doubt whether pos-
terity will have patience to pick out his plums from
such a mass of indigestible dough."

In my " first fine careless rapture " I had com*
municated to Whitman the fact that Swinburne con-
templated reprinting " Under the Microscope," in
which much praise had been bestowed on Walt, who

was compared to William Blake, and whose work-

Algernon Charles Swinburne

manship was accepted without demur. Walt
Whitman wrote me asking me to send him on the
article when it appeared, and enclosed in his letter
a card in black and silver admitting the bearer to
his Lecture on the Death of Abraham Lincoln.

When the article appeared in the " Fortnightly,"
entitled " Whitmania," I saw at once that I must not
grieve the " good gray poet " by sending it to him,
especially as I was the innocent cause of its having
been written, but he insisted, and Mr Horace
Traubel tells us that Whitman on reading it con-
tented himself by asking those present, if Swinburne
were " not the damnedest simulacrum," and there, so
far as Walt was concerned, the matter ended.

Not so in England, where John Addington
Symonds rushed into print in defence of Whitman,
noting especially the fact that in the verses quoted
from " Songs before Sunrise," Walt Whitman is
designated a " Singer." This he undoubtedly was,
as well as being one of the most ardent among
liberators of the human spirit from the shackles of
conventionality.

Addington Symonds did not clinch his argument
by referring to the footnote on page 21 of " Essays
and Studies," in which, while expatiating on Victor
Hugo's " L'Annee Terrible," Swinburne designates
Whitman " The greatest of American voices," and
in concluding calls him " The first poet of American
democracy." Surely higher praise than this no man
could ask for or expect!

In the year referred to appeared a little volume

97 G

In Castle and Court House

of poems entitled " The Heart of the Weed," with
no author's name, but to explain the title, a quotation
from James Russell Lowell " to win the secret of the
weed's plain heart." This little book, the contents
of which are far above the average output of poetry,
was written by the wife of my friend Thomas Ser-
geant Perry. Mrs Perry later did more justice to her
muse in her perfect translations from the Greek
Anthology, which were issued under the title of
" From the Garden of Hellas." One of the poems
in " The Heart of the Weed " was " On Swinburne's
' Poems to a Child,' " a sonnet which I forwarded to
Swinburne, but which he did not acknowledge. I
learned later that his letter to me was insufficiently
addressed, and was returned to him. I give the
sonnet here by kind permission of the authoress,
Lilian Cabot Perry

You sing of passion, freedom, of the sea,

All mighty themes to touch the hearts of men,

Yet scarce are past the fire and whirlwind, when

We hear a still, small voice, and lovingly

You lull the babe upon its mother's knee,

Songs mingling with its dreams. Her bosom then

Thrills to the echo of each note again

That sings all childhood's joy and mystery.

Small flower-like faces look out from your rhyme,

And there among them smile my very own;

Sweet children's voices from your measures ring

Like shaken silver bells in liquid chime

I hear my darlings', yet not theirs alone

Since for all childhood through all time you sing.

When I was a student in Dublin I spent the

greater part of my time reading in the delightful

Photo, Elliott and Fry.}

ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE.

Algernon Charles Swinburne

library of King's Inns, Henrietta Street, where, in a
quiet recess, partitioned off from the rest of the room,
furnished with " storied windows richly dight : '
shedding upon me and my book at sunset all the
colours which Keats declared were thrown by the
full moon upon the kneeling heroine of " St Agnes'
Eve," I could scarcely realise that I was buried in
" the dusty purlieus of the law." Consulting the
Library Catalogue one afternoon, I discovered that
the Benchers took as little interest in Swinburne as
one Gamaliel is reported to have cared for the study
of Sociology. I hastened to the genial librarian, my
old friend James Mclvor, and laid the matter before
him, and having by his advice filled the necessary
space in the Suggestion Book, a complete edition of
Swinburne's, works was ordered forthwith, and now
adorns the shelves of the Library.

Living, as I did, far from London, I had not the
opportunity to see Swinburne, which I might have
had, had I been resident in London. From time to
time I received postcards or letters from him, one
of the former I find states in reply to an enquiry
regarding a sentence in " A Study of Shakespeare "
that " the greatest living humorist in 1 880 " was,
in the writer's opinion Thomas Carlyle, and on
another postcard I am referred to the " Agricola " of
Tacitus for the allusion made in the concluding
stanza of the memorial verses on the death of John
William Inchbold in the third series of " Poems and
Ballads."

In 1902 I left Ireland and came to London, en

In Castle and Court House

route for Western Africa. I did not get further than
London, for reasons which will be found in a later
chapter. In August, 1903, I contributed an article
on Mr Swinburne's early dramas and poems to " The
Gentleman's Magazine," a copy of which I left with
my card at " The Pines," Putney Hill, a delightfully
situated residence which has been fully described in
his graphic manner by Mr James Douglas of The
Star newspaper, in his fine volume on the life-work
of our greatest living critic (and as Swinburne him-
self declared, possibly the greatest of all time), Mr
Theodore Watts-Dunton. Both Swinburne and
Watts-Dunton happened, as I learnt afterwards to
be away at the time, I believe at Lancing. I called
again, a little later, and found that the two poets
were still away from home, and had to content my-
self by taking Swinburne's favourite walk up Putney
Hill to Wimbledon, a walk described by Mr Watts-
Dunton in the new edition, published with an
illustration, of the little volume of " Selections from
Poems of Swinburne."

A little later when I edited the poems of Thomas
Lovell Beddoes for the excellent " Muses' Library "
series of Messrs Routledge, I sent Swinburne and
Mr Watts-Dunton copies of the little book, receiving
gracious acknowledgments from both, and Mr
Thomas Wright to whom we are indebted for lives
of Pater, Edward FitzGerald, Burnaby and Sir
Richard Burton, told me that calling at " The Pines "
about this time, his hosts mentioned my name, and

expressed some interest in my work.

100

Algernon Charles Swinburne

After sending a copy of the complete poetical
works of George Darley in the same Library, the
pleasurable task of editing which had been under-
taken by me at the suggestion of Professor Dowden,
I received from both Swinburne and Watts-Dunton
(as well as from other recognised leaders in litera-
ture), letters full of generous praise, which gratified
me greatly, coupled as they were with an invitation
to call as soon as convenient, and suggesting the
following Sunday afternoon. Luckily I was able
to avail myself of the kindness thus extended, and
four o'clock on a beautiful afternoon in May found
me at " The Pines."

I was shown into a room richly furnished with
Chinese carved cabinets and rare old furniture, the
walls being covered with oil paintings, some of them
evidently the work of Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
Through the window could be seen a garden of
larger dimensions than one is accustomed to in
London, where every foot of ground is precious,
having in the centre of a grassy mound a classical
draped female figure in either stone or stucco.
This statue, I learned later, had been in D. G.
Rossetti's garden.

Mr Watts-Dunton was the first to greet me, and
a little later Mr Swinburne glided in. Both poets
shook hands, Mr Watts-Dunton with vigour, but
Swinburne's hand lay in mine with the pressure of
a butterfly. The thought that flashed through me
that second was, that the hand I held had once lain
in that of Walter Savage Landor, a writer who was,

JOI

In Castle and Court House

indeed " In holiest age our mightiest mind," and
whose great qualities as poet and prose writer have
been magnificently celebrated by Swinburne in
poems written in English, Latin, and Greek. Mr
Watts-Dunton, on the contrary, holds that Landor
in striving to realise the characters of other men
and to utter their thoughts, as he did in " The
Imaginary Conversations," neglected to utter his
own, and thereby swamped his own originality with
a much poorer substitute, a fact to be deplored.
" Landor," said Mr Watts-Dunton, " boasted that he
would sup late, but that the guests would be few
and select, I am afraid that Landor will never sup
at all."

As I am not one of those who jot down other
men's utterances in order to make " copy " of them,
I fear there is little I can record here of our con-
versation.

I noted that Swinburne's eyes kindled when I
mentioned the works of Robert Landor, whose
" Impious Feast " and " Faith's Fraud " and " The
Ferryman " I possess in copies which at one time
belonged to Anthony Trollope. Swinburne praised
another play by Robert Landor, ' The Earl of
Brecon," a drama in which we see (in the words of
Sir Henry Taylor) " persons impassioned, not
passions personified." Thinking Swinburne would
be interested I presented him with a copy of " Under
the Microscope," in the American edition published
by Thomas B. Mosher, of Portland, Maine.

Although he had gained nothing from a pecuniary

102

Algernon Charles Swinburne

point of view, from this edition, he was pleased with
the format of the book which is beautifully turned
out.

Since that memorable evening in May, I have
had the honour and pleasure of dining many times
at " The Pines " with both poets, and have partaken
of afternoon tea on Sundays. Owing to Swinburne's
deafness, not a little of what I said had to be com-
municated through Mr Watts-Dunton, who also took
a kindly interest in any subject which I broached,
particularly in a volume of selections from living
poets which I contemplated compiling, and to which
both my hosts readily promised to contribute, Mr
Watts-Dunton telling me I would get them all save
George Meredith, which proved to be the case, Mr
Meredith writing me on his last birthday thanking
me for copies of Hartley Coleridge, Beddoes, and
Darley which I had edited, but firmly stating that
he would not allow me to include any of his poems
in the projected volume. Mr Watts-Dunton was
interested in the fact that I admired the writings of
Ebenezer Jones, the author of " Studies in Sensation
and Event," on whom he contributed three letters
to The Athen<zum some years ago, and whom
he knew personally, and whose brother, Sumner
Jones, called on him. Mr Alfred Noyes, whose epic
on Drake is one of the finest poetic utterances of late
years, had been dining at " The Pines " a few days
earlier, and when I referred to his " Lines for a
Seventieth Birthday " and declared my humble
opinion that these verses were the only ones written

103

In Castle and Court House

worthy of their subject, Mr Watts-Dunton (Mr
Swinburne was not present) said that he quite agreed
with me.

Alas! for all lovers of song, the great singer
was not to see another birthday. I happened to be
in the office of The Sunday Times when the news
of his death arrived, and Mr Leonard Rees, the
Editor, turning to me, said " We look to you for
a special article." I had no materials and wrote
simply from memory and my knowledge of the dead
poet's writings, and in closing my chapter of Remem-
brance can only quote his own lines on Victor Hugo :

Return ! We dare not, as we fain
Would cry from hearts that yearn.
Love dares not bid its dead again

Return.

Oh, hearts that burn and yearn,
As fires fast fettered strain and burn,

Bow down, lie still, and learn.

The heart that eased all hearts of pain
No funeral rites in-urn,

Its echoes, while the stars remain,

Return.

104

CHAPTER XI

OSCAR WILDE AND OTHERS

Colles of Kilkenny and the ^Esthetic Movement Oscar
Wilde's Poems I meet Wilde in Dublin Mrs
Langtry and Niagara The American Girl Portrait
of Oscar Wilde as a Boy, by O'Neill My
Correspondence with Wilde Edgar Saltus " De
Profundis "Mr Robert Ross Wilde's Plays and
Poems Mrs Frank Leslie Joaquin Miller's Poems
"Jewess" Speranza's Grave The Baroness de
Bazus A Remarkable Woman Irene Osgood,
Author of "To a Nun Confess'd" and "Servitude."
Her Home at Guilsborough Hall A Fascinating
Personality.

IN 1730, or thereabouts, one William Colles of
Kilkenny, having invented machinery for the sawing
of marble by water power, took a perpetual lease
of the marble quarries in Ireland, and erected the
mills which are still worked by his descendant, my
cousin Mr Richard Colles, J.P.

The first time I remember hearing the name Oscar
Wilde, was in connection with these mills. It was
asserted that owing to the Esthetic Movement
inaugurated by Wilde who advocated the substitu-
tion of oaken mantelpieces for marble ones, that the
mills in Kilkenny must be, if the Movement was con-

105

In Castle and Court House

tinued, shut down, and the branch of the Colles
family which ran them, in consequence, be
ruined!

With the selfishness of seventeen, having another
career in prospect, I did not trouble much about this
outlook, and it did not prevent my taking the keenest
interest in Oscar Wilde's Poems, which were pub-
lished by David Bogue about 1882. I remember
with what keen delight I read such verse as

And many an Afghan chief, who lies

Beneath his cool pomegranate trees,
Clutches his sword in fierce surmise

When on the mountain-side he sees
The fleet-foot Marri scout, who comes

To tell how he hath heard afar
The measured roll of English drums

Beat at the gate of Kandahar.

Years later, when I met Wilde, I suggested to
him the substitution of the word " British " for
" English " drums, on account of the onomatopoeia,
the fine roll of " R's " to correspond with the roll of
drums. He said he thought there were quite enough
" R's " in the line already.

The first time I met Oscar Wilde was when he
had just returned from lecturing in America. It
will be remembered that the D'Oyly Carte Opera
Company preceded him everywhere throughout the
United States, playing " Patience " with its
attitudinising figure of Bunthorne the poet. Wilde
did not seem to have troubled himself about the

matter. At the luncheon table of my friend, who

1 06

Oscar Wilde and Others

lived in a pleasant detached house in the Green
Lane district of Clontarf, not far from where Brian
Boru was defeated, he spoke of his American
tour, and smiled when he was reminded that
he had been " disappointed " with the Atlantic.
He spoke of Mrs Langtry having had her photo-
graph taken " with the Falls of Niagara as a kind of
unpretentious background," and incidentally referred
to the American girl as being " a delicious oasis of
unreasonableness in a desert of commonsense.'*
After he had gone, my host, a well-known Dublin
solicitor, who has long been dead, told me that Wilde
had asked, concerning me, " who is that interesting
young fellow ? " an inquiry which greatly gratified
the young fellow in question.

Years later, about 1893, or thereabouts, I was
shown by Professor Dowden a head in red chalk
which he had purchased as a portrait of Oscar Wilde
when a boy. I asked and obtained permission to
have it photographed, and had three platinatypes
done by Mr Louis Werner, of Grafton Street. Wilde
was then living in 16, Tite Street, Chelsea, and no
doubt often saw

The Thames nocturne of blue and gold

Change to a harmony in grey;

A boat with ochre-coloured hay

Drop from the wharf.

He had sent me his plays published at the Bodley
Head by Mr John Lane, who, if I remember aright,

had just then severed partnership with Mr Elkin

107

In Castle and Court House

Mathews, and was ushering newly discovered poets
into print with a rapidity that threatened to make
England once more " a nest of singing birds."

The poems included " The Sphinx," as well as
his better known work, and the play " Salome." He
gave me these poems in recognition of the fact that
I had sent him Mr W. Carew Hazlitt's interesting
collection of the Essays of Thomas Griffiths Wain-
wright, the murderer, once the friend or acquaintance
of Charles Lamb, Thomas Noon Talfourd and other
notable men of his day, and whose work had once
or twice been mistaken for that of Elia. Wilde, it
will be remembered, wrote an article in " The Fort-
nightly " on the subject, entitled " Pen, Pencil, and
Poison," a phrase he found in Swinburne's " Study
of William Blake," in which the author said of Wain-
wright, " with pen, with palate, or with poison his
hand was no mean craftsman's."

About the same time I had drawn his attention to
" Mary Magdalen," by Edgar Saltus, a copy of
which had been sent me from America by George
Pellew, and which was eventually published in this
country by Harper's, under the title of " Mary of
Magdala." Wilde's study of the prophet John bears
a close resemblance to that of Saltus, and the two
studies are worth comparing.

Having secured my photographs, I sent them to
Wilde, asking him to enrich them with his autograph.
He replied that I really must not ask him to do so.
That they were far too ugly, and returned them

unsigned, accompanied by a signed photograph of

108

THE BAROXESS DE BAZUS

(better known as " FRANK LESLIE.")

Oscar Wilde and Others

himself by Ellis and Walery taken very recently, and
showing him standing upright, with his right hand
buried just above the top button of his overcoat
which had an ucstrakhan collar and which bore a
carnation in the left buttonhole. This was the last
time I heard from him. A little later came the great
tragedy in his life, and in common with many of his
admirers, I turned away from him, and feminine influ-
ence being very strong in my life at the moment, I
burned his letters and all the photographs in my
possession, only one of the three done of the picture
escaping the holocaust by my having presented it to
Professor Dowden ! The original chalk head, I may
mention, was done by Henry O'Neill, a well-known
portrait painter in his day, to whom Wilde paid a
kindly tribute in one of his letters to me.

That I was not alone in my sudden change from
admiration to revulsion is proved by the fact that
when my friend Mr H. A. Hinkson collected " Poems
by Graduates of T.C.D.," which were published by
Mr Elkin Mathews in 1895, the book fell dead,
simply because it contained poems by Oscar Wilde.

When in 1904 " De Profundis " was published, I
was deeply touched, and wrote to Mr Robert Ross,
the Editor of the book, expressing my contrition for
burning the dead man's letters, and heartily congrat-
ulating him on the great work he was doing for his
memory, by clearing off his debts, and getting his
bankruptcy annulled. Mr Ross has added to the
indebtedness to him of all admirers of Wilde by the

monumental edition of Wilde's books which he has

109

In Castle and Court House

had issued by Messrs Methuen. It is to be hoped that
a popular edition of Oscar Wilde's plays and poems
will soon be published. An edition in one volume
would certainly sell. Thanks to the staunch support
of Mr George Alexander the poet's name has been
restored to the playbills, and " The Importance of
Being Earnest " has had a long run at the St James's
Theatre.

Wilde borrowed very largely from the French, but
his plays, nevertheless, contain not a little that is
deliciously original. In " A Woman of No
Importance," for instance, we are told that the
Peerage is " the best thing in fiction that the English
have ever done." That " American dry-goods " are
American novels! and there are dozens of others
equally good.

The author of " Oscar Wilde : The Story of an
Unhappy Friendship " took me to see Mrs Frank
Leslie, at one time Mrs Willy Wilde, and now that
she has retired into private life, known by her title
of the Baroness de Bazus.

We found the Baroness, who was merely flitting
through London, en route for Paris, deeply engaged
in reading the poems of Joaquin Miller in a six
volume edition with which the poet had just presented
her. Naturally, the conversation turned on the
" Songs of the Sierras," and other poems by the poet
of the West, and I was delighted to get news of the
fine old author and to hear the Baroness read aloud
his striking poem " Columbus " with its refrain " Sail

on ! Sail on ! ! Sail on ! ! ! " I had long admired

110

Oscar Wilde and Others

Joaquin Miller's poetry and in order to prove to the
Baroness that my admiration was genuine, I recited
his verses entitled " Jewess," which is not the only
poem of the author's I have memorised. As some of
my readers may not be familiar with it, I give it

here

My dark-browed daughter of the sun,

Dear Bedouin of the desert sands,

Sad daughter of the ravished lands,
Of savage Sinai, Babylon

O Egypt-eyed, thou art to me

A God-encompassed mystery!

I see sad Hagar in thine eyes,

The obelisks, the pyramids,

Lie hid beneath thy drooping lids.
The tawny Nile of Moses lies

Portrayed in thy strange people's force

And solemn mystery of source.

The black abundance of thy hair

Falls like some twilight sad of June

Above the dying afternoon,
And mourns thy people's mute despair.

The large solemnity of night,

O Israel, is in thy sight.

Then come where stars of freedom spill
Their splendour, Jewess. In this land
The broad hollow of God's hand

That held you ever, outholds still.
And whether you be right or nay,
'Tis God's, not Russia's, here to say.

Some reference was made to " Speranza," Lady
Wilde, and to Irish poets in general, and I mentioned
George Darley, and incidentally said that when I dis-
covered the cemetery in which he was buried, I

In Castle and Court House

visited the grave, and finding it much neglected,
I called the attention of a member of Barley's family
to the fact, with the gratifying result that the super-
intendent wrote me " It looks as if the grave belonged
to somebody now." The Baroness said that the
grave of " Speranza " was in a shockingly neglected
condition.

So ended my interview with this very remarkable
woman who took over her dead husband's business,
which by his premature death he left buried in
debt, assumed by law the name of " Frank Leslie,"
and not alone cleared off all the debts, but ran
" Leslie's Home Journal," until its name was familiar
all over the world, by reason of its gigantic circula-
tion, and then retired with a huge fortune, to be
courted and honoured by all who love the best in
journalism and literature.

The Baroness has wonderfully beautiful eyes
large, grey, melting, and sympathetic; her figure is
perfect, and her carriage enhances it. She has the
bright clear complexion that comes of exercise and
health ; and luxuriant hair of a very light colour.
Her voice is delightful. She is frankly feminine in
her manner, showing her gentle breeding to the tips
of her aristocratic fingers. If one did not know, one
would say that she had never known a moment of
work or worry in her life.

Every summer she enjoys a European holiday,
and invariably, in London, Paris, Madrid, and the
fashionable watering places on the Continent, she is

feted, admired and interviewed by the newspapers

112

Oscar Wilde and Others

even more than when she is at home for in Europe
it is vacation in earnest for her. From the Govern-
ment of Venezuela she has received the distinguished
and beautiful decoration of " El Busto del Liber-
tador," bestowed by the South American Republic
upon " those who have rendered service in the cause
of humanity, progress and civilisation," and she has
also a French decoration, bestowed by the martyred
President Carnot, and the decoration of Saint
Catherine as well.

How has she done it all ? By a bold and decisive
mind, the audacity of genius, tireless energy and the
perfection of physique. The child Miriam Florence
Folline was a fragile creature, a delicate Huguenot
exotic in the French quarter of New Orleans. The
woman Baroness de Bazus is the perfection of physi-
cal development. By the exercise of all her faculties,
physical and mental, she has kept her whole nature
in perfect equilibrium. Her handwriting is character-
istic, the characters large, the strokes firm with a
notable upward impulse, regular, connected, and
flowing. And she has never lost an intellectual
opportunity. She speaks English, French, Spanish,
and Italian with fluent perfection, besides under-
standing Latin. She has read much and seen more,
and welded into her own originality her studies and
reflections and experiences. Much as she owes to
nature, she owes more to herself. She proves that
genius is a capacity for hard work; that significant
success comes like the onward-creeping dawn, and

is no blast of heat-lightning. Whatever she has

113 H

In Castle and Court House

done, too, she has done as a woman in a womanly
way. She has found her sex has rights enough when
it wants to employ them.

Her salon is one of the institutions of New York.
She is the Mme. Adam of New York. At them
are to be met all sorts of people worth knowing, and
very few that are not distinguished for something
or other. She gives her invitations on the famous
receipt of Mrs Jeune. " Millions for amusement ;
not one line for tribute ! " Plenty of society people
are to be found at her salon, but they are all some-
bodies outside the drawing-room.

She is great as a hostess, full of sympathy and
tact and bonhomie. She has a large fund of good
stories, and doesn't have to go outside her own
experience for their subjects.

One of the most fascinating women I have ever
met is Mrs Irene Osgood, author of " To a Nun
Confess'd," and " Servitude." I met her at a
fashionable West End Hotel, and having shown an
interest in her books, she kindly invited me to visit
her in her beautiful home, Guilsborough Hall, which
is her own property and lies in a very pretty country
between Rugby and Northampton. It is the Hall
of an ancient and picturesque village, where there
are many cottages with thatched roofs, and where
there is an old Jacobean grammar school, built and
endowed by the Langham family.

When Irene Osgood acquired the place a few
years ago, Guilsborough Hall, which had long been

occupied by the Countess Spencer, to whom a

114

Oscar Wilde and Others

memorial stands in the adjoining parish church ; was
a dilapidated manor-house in a wilderness of laurel
bushes.

To-day, Guilsborough Hall is one of the most
beautiful houses in the Midlands, and the gardens
which surround it are the admiration of all the
authorities on artistic gardening. These gardens were
designed and carried out by the fair owner, whose
taste and discernment in their construction proves
that she is an artist in more walks of life than one.

A pretty fancy is shown by Mrs Osgood in her
all-white garden, which for simplicity and beauty is
unrivalled, every shrub and flower being pure white.

I recall many talks with this young and gifted
woman in the exquisite Adams room which forms
part of her private suite, and which she designates
the music room. She is by no means a mere woman
of letters, for she was, until she met with many
nasty accidents in the field, an enthusiastic rider to
hounds, and her taste in dress is perfect as her form.

Her books have had a phenomenal sale, especially
" Servitude," which deals with Christian slavery in
Algiers before the victory of Lord Exmouth, and
;< To a Nun Confess'd," has run through many
editions.

One of the greatest charms of Irene Osgood is
her voice. It reminded me of Walt Whitman's
beautiful lines

"" Surely whoever speaks to me in the right voice

Him or her I shall follow, as the water follows the moon,
Anywhere around the globe."

In Castle and Court House

I can hear it now, as she tells me about " Full
Free," a novel she has projected dealing with the
negro question in the West Indies. " I have always, "
she said, " taken a particular interest in black
folk, because, as perhaps you know, I come from
a line of Virginia planters, who owned slaves before
the war. The horrible things that were of such
common occurrence in the West Indies were unheard
of in Virginia, and I shall be able to draw some com-
parisons from what my people have told me, which
will not be very flattering to the West Indian
planters. Our slaves were devoted to us, my mother
has often told me, and during the war showed the
greatest affection and loyalty to their masters."

I remember also much about another new book,
to be called " Where Pharoah Dreams." This book,
Irene Osgood wrote in Helouan, near Cairo. It
is to be illustrated by W. Gordon Mein, and pub-
lished in the United States.

Amongst personal items Mrs Osgood told me that
she was born on a plantation in Old Virginia. Her
father's people were from Normandy, one of her
ancestors, Baron Jean de Belot, having left France
for political reasons, and on account of being a
Huguenot. Baron de Belot traced his history from
much earlier times, it being on record that one of the
members of his family officiated in the private chapel
of Louis XI.

I was particularly delighted with Irene Osgood's
love and protection of wild birds. Hundreds of

nesting boxes are to be seen in the trees in the park,

116

IRENE OSGOOD.

Oscar Wilde and Others

and trays of food are outside most of the bedroom
windows, with saucers of water for the birds to either
drink or bathe in. And the birds are not ungrateful,
for morning and evening the whole place is filled
with the music of their songs.

That Irene Osgood is a good business woman
and no dreamer, is proved by the huge run she has
erected for prize poultry on the borders of the park ;
and here may be seen fowls of all plumage, many of
them first prize winners in all parts of the country.
Walter Savage Landor prided himself on the number
of trees he had planted at Llanthony, rightly deeming
that he had done a patriotic act thereby. I can
imagine the delight he would have expressed had
he seen the plantation of fine young trees with which
Irene Osgood has enriched Guilsborough Hall.

It is an ideal home for an artist and poetess. And
those who read Irene Osgood's books, or have the
privilege of seeing her, will not refuse her either
title.

117

CHAPTER XII

EDWARD DOWDEN

Professor Edward Dowden His " Life of Percy Bysshe
Shelley " Matthew Arnold's Criticism The Ways
of Dowden like those of Providence William Watson
on Shelley and Harriett Westbrook Professor
Dowden and Walt Whitman Dowden the Poet His
French and German Studies President of the English
Goethe Society Visitors to " Winstead " Montagu
Griffin J. J. Piatt Lord Tennyson and George
Darley.

I HAVE already made many references to Professor
Edward Dowden, whom I shall always deem it an
honour to " count upon my list of friends." I have
had the pleasure of knowing Dowden for nearly a
quarter of a century. He is, as many of my readers
are aware, Professor of English Literature and
Oratory in the University of Dublin, and is the
author of " Shakspere : His Mind and Art,"
"Studies in Literature, 1798-1877," "Transcripts
and Studies," and other critical essays. He is also
the author of the only reliable " Life of Shelley,"
having compiled the two volumes from the original
documents submitted to him by the poet's son, the
late Sir Percy Florence Shelley, and his wife Lady

Shelley.

118

Edward Dowden

Professor Dowden, with important documentary
evidence before him, wrote with the cool critical
acumen which distinguishes him, and while wishing
to deal as gently as possible with the memory of
Harriett Westbrook, Shelley's first wife, he was
obliged, in justice to the poet, to make a reflection
on her character, but at the same time he gave, in
a footnote, a reference to the files of The Times
newspaper, in corroboration of his judgment. This
reference the critics, one and all, ignored, even
Matthew Arnold, who in his later essays, appears
to have lost all his former clearness of vision, going
so far as to write that the ways of Professor Dowden
resembled those of Providence, in that they were
inscrutable. Mr William Watson, who had
addressed a sonnet to Dowden on his " Life of
Shelley," made the same error with regard to
Harriett in his " Epigrams on Life, Art, and
Nature."

A great star stooped from heaven and loved a flower
Grown in earth's garden, loved it for an hour.
Let those who mark his progress through the spheres
Refuse not to a ruined rosebud tears.

Harriett was far from being " a ruined rosebud."
Professor Dowden replied in " Last Words on
Shelley " in his " Transcripts and Studies " and
effectually silenced his critics.

Dowden's published work covers a wide area and
exhibits a wonderful catholicity in literary apprecia-
tion. He was one of the very first to recognise the

significance of the advent of Walt Whitman ; while

119

In Castle and Court House

his sympathy with the " barbaric yawp " of the
American did not prevent his being sensitive to the
beauty of Walter Pater's delicate sentimentalism, as
displayed in such dicta as that " life should be lived
as delicately as one may pluck a flower." He has
noted with a keen eye the opposed mental attitudes
of Tennyson and Browning, and has interpreted their
messages to their age with singular clearness and
truth. He has taught many to feel and understand
the moral significance and the value of the work of
George Eliot. He has traced the influence on
English literature of the various movements on the
Continent of Europe, such as the transcendental
movement, and the scientific. Nor has he confined
his studies to English alone. In his earliest essays
he drew attention to the grandeur of the poetry of
Victor Hugo, and that of Leconte de Lisle, and
Lamennais and Edgar Quinet found in him a deli-
cately true interpreter. He has contributed a note-
worthy volume on French Literature to Heinemann's
" Literatures of the World," edited by Mr Edmund
Gosse.

To be thoroughly acquainted with Professor Dow-
den's studies in literature is to be possessed of much
more than mere knowledge of the subjects treated
in his books. It is to have as constant companion
and friend, one whose ethical teaching is of the
highest value, whose spiritual vision is clear, and one
who is ever ready to point to the sources from which
he himself derives much of the wisdom and strength

which he is desirous his pupil should possess. It

120

Edward Dowden

is as an interpreter that Professor Dowden stands pre-
eminent. He has seized the best that has been said in
the English tongue and so treated it that truths
hidden in the occult utterances of the poet, or ren-
dered obscure by being " embodied in a tale " acquire
their due potentiality. Shakespeare, though lovingly
commented on by such writers as Coleridge, Lamb,
and Landor, has in Dowden a rare and delicately true
exponent, and one whom I firmly believe has pene-
trated more deeply into the mind of the great inter-
preter of life than any of the writers named. He has
in " Shakspere : His Mind and Art " contributed
not alone an invaluable volume to modern criticism,
but has distinctly made an addition to previous con-
ceptions of the mind of the Master.

It is in this book that the reader comes upon such
a sentence as the following : " Even though death
end all, these things at least are beauty and force,
purity, sin, and love, and anguish and joy. These
things are, and therefore life cannot be a little idle
whirl of dust." Such a sentence as this cannot but
have a moral effect. It is one of those " antidotes
of medicated music " of which the poet writes,
" answering for mankind's forlornest uses." Pro-
fessor Dowden has often played the part he assigns
in his essay on " Victorian Literature " to Browning,
whose poetry he declares to be " a galvanic battery
for the use of spiritual paralytics." " Which of us,"
he asks, " does not need at times that virtue should
pass into him from a stronger human soul? To
touch the singing robes of the author of ' Rabbi Ben

121

In Castle and Court House

Ezra ' and Trospice/ and ' The Grammarian's
Funeral/ is to feel an influx of new strength. We
gain from Mr Browning, each in his degree, some of
that moral ardour and spiritual faith and vigour of
human sympathy which make interesting to him
all the commonplace, confused, and ugly portions of
life . . ." Consciously or unconsciously such
has been Professor Dowden's own role as a teacher.
To read his books is to gain new strength and
courage to endure, and we come at length to acknow-
ledge that to be weak is to be miserable. He has,
as it were, hearkened to all the prophets of the time,
and when any had an authentic word of the Lord to
deliver, be he Tennyson or Whitman, Browning or
George Eliot, that word has gained a larger audience
by being caught up and conveyed to those who had
at first paid but little heed to the cry of " Blessed be
ye " or of " Woe unto you." I have not dwelt on
Professor Dowden's books as text-books ; no doubt
as such they have their value. " The true question
to ask about any book," said a librarian once, " is
* has it helped any human soul ? ' Were such a
question addressed to me regarding " Studies in
Literature " or other works by Professor Dowden, I
would gladly acknowledge the great help I have
derived from them, and I am certain I am not alone
in my experience.

In his latest volume " Essays Modern and Eliza-
bethan," Dowden includes a study of Goethe's
"West-Eastern Divan," with translations into

English verse of Goethe's poems, translations which

122

Edward Dowden

bear testimony alike to his ability as a translator
and to his gifts as a poet. For Dowden is a poet,
and as such is recognised by the more discerning
of those who have read his volume of Poems, pub-
lished in 1876. This volume could only have been
written by one who was essentially a poet, and proves
that had the author chosen to seek solely the repu-
tation of a poet, he could easily have taken a high
place as a singer. Here is a fine specimen of his
workmanship

BURDENS.

Are sorrows hard to bear the ruin
Of flowers, the rotting of red fruit,

A love's decease, a life's undoing,

And summer slain, and song-birds mute,

And skies of snow and bitter air?

These things, you deem, are hard to bear.

But ah, the burden, the delight
Of dreadful joys ! Noon opening wide,

Golden and great ; the gulfs of night,
Fair deaths, and rent veils cast aside,
Strong soul to strong soul rendered up,
And silence filling like a cup.

As the book is completely out of print I may give
this magnificent passage on Nature's need of
Man

O now I guess why you have summoned me,
Headlands and heights, to your companionship ;
Confess that I this day am needful to you!
The heavens were loaded with great light, the winds
Brought you calm summer from a hundred fields,
All night the stars had pricked you to desire,
The imminent joy at its full season flowered,

123

In Castle and Court House

There was a consummation, the broad wave
Toppled and fell. And had ye voice for this?
Sufficient song to unburden the urged breast ?
A pastoral pipe to play, a lyre to touch ?
The brightening glory of the heath and gorse
Could not appease your passion, nor the cry
Of this wild bird that flits from bush to bush.
Me therefore you required, a voice for song,
A pastoral pipe to play, a lyre to touch.
I recognise your bliss to find me here :
The sky at morning when the sun upleaps
Demands her atom of intense melody,
Her point of quivering passion and delight,
And will not let the lark's heart be at ease.
Take me, the brain with various' subtile fold,
The breast that knows swift joy, the vocal lips;
I yield you here the cunning instrument
Between your knees ; now let the plectrum fall !

Not Wordsworth in his most ecstatic mood in
communing with Nature could have surpassed the
passage about the lark, either in emotion or expres-
sion. One more specimen of Professor Dowden's
poetical work, and I leave Dowden the poet for my
readers to seek and enjoy, but as they may experi-
ence some difficulty in obtaining the volume I give
the following noble sonnet on

BROTHER DEATH.

When thou would'st have me go with thee, O Death,
Over the utmost verge, to the dim place,
Practise upon me with no amorous grace
Of fawning lips, and words of delicate breath,
And curious music thy lute uttereth;
Nor think for me there must be sought-out ways
Of cloud and terror; have we many days

124

Photo Lafayette.]

PROFESSOR DOWDEN, LL.D., D.C.L.

Edward Dowden

Sojourned together, and is this thy faith?
Nay, be there plainness 'twixt us ; come to me
Even as thou art, O brother of my soul ;
Hold thy hand out and I will place mine there ;
I trust thy mouth's inscrutable irony,
And dare to lay my forehead where the whole
Shadow lies deep of the purpureal hair.

Professor Dowden is President of the English
Goethe Society, and his essays include several
thoughtful and penetrative studies of the work and
wisdom of the author of " Faust." That on the
correspondence of Goethe and Schiller is particularly
attractive.

Dowden's humour is of a rare and elusive kind,
as, for instance, when he writes on " The Text of
Wordsworth's Poems." " Wordsworth's omissions,
made for the sake of avoiding the merely trivial,
literal, matter of fact, accidental, or grotesque, are
numerous, and some of these are sufficiently well
known. Simon Lee, during two and twenty
years stood before the reader in that ' long blue
livery coat '

' That's fair behind and fair before,'

and which is only faintly referred to after 1815;
during several years more he remained bereft of his
right eye ; finally the eye was restored to him, but
the lustre of ftis livery was dimmed"

At " Winstead " I met many notable men and
women, some of whom I have already mentioned,
as, for instance, Perceval Graves, the author of the
" Life of Sir William Rowan Hamilton," the great

125

In Castle and Court House

mathematician; Charles Dickens, Jr., Bettina
Walker, the enthusiastic pianist, who knew Liszt, and
had had lessons from Henselt ; Sir Herbert and Lady
Tree, Sir Henry Irving ; Miss May Fortescue ; Miss
Ellen Terry; Professor Thomas Arnold, father of
Mrs Humphry Ward ; W. Macneile Dixon, who is
now a Professor of English Literature in Glasgow
University; and two poets who had not at the time
published a volume of verse, W. B. Yeats and
William Watson.

In 1887, as we H I remember, Watson's "Words-
worth's Grave " was published. The little volume
of " Epigrams," published by a firm in Liverpool,
having proceeded it. I reviewed the book in The
Dublin Evening Mail, and, while I could not but
delight in its judicious praise of Wordsworth, I
demurred at the tone adopted towards William
Morris, who was referred to as displaying

" The scholar's, not the child's, simplicity."

Watson complained of my review as being the
only jarring note in a chorus of praise.

Yeats' first book I had the pleasure of subscribing
for. It contained " Mosada," a dramatic poem of
much promise, and one which his later work has not
surpassed.

In 1893 I suggested to Messrs Macmillan that
they should get Professor Dowden to make a selec-
tion from Southey's poems and include them in their
well-known " Golden Treasury " series, with those

of Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley, and Coleridge.

126

Edward Dowden

This was done and the copy of the book which I
possess contains an inscription by the Editor, " To
Ramsay Colles, who kindly suggested this little book,
from Edward Dowden." No man has rendered so
signal a service to the memory of Robert Southey
as has Edward Dowden. His monograph on
Southey is one of the best in the " English Men of
Letters " series, and he has in addition, edited the
correspondence of Southey with Caroline Bowles,
who became Southey's second wife.

No matter how much we depreciate Southey to-
day, there is no doubt that he deeply impressed such
men as Walter Savage Landor and Sir Henry Taylor.
The former addressed some of his finest verse to one
whom he deemed " poet, soldier, saint," and Taylor
declared that though the admirers of Southey were
few

" The womb of time is big with devotees."

Possibly ; but if such was the case, they were, alas !
all still-born. One of the most interesting men
I met at Dowden's was Montagu Griffin, a nephew
of Canon Griffin, of Mill Street, Cork. Griffin was
a great admirer of Dowden's poetry, and wrote poetry
himself, of excellent quality. Another poet whom
I met was J. J. Piatt, at one time U.S. Consul in
Dublin, author of " A Dream of Church Windows,"
and I also met his gifted wife who is, I believe,
known as theElizabeth Barrett Browning of America.
Dom Piatt, a son of the poets, was assistant to the
Consul, then the Hon. Joshua Wilbour, when I left

Dublin in 1902. Mr Dom Piatt married a poetess

127

In Castle and Court House

in the person of Miss Hester Sigerson, a daughter
of Dr George Sigerson and sister of Mrs Clement
Shorter.

Professor Dowden suggested to me the publication
of a complete edition of the poems of George Darley,
an Irish poet, the friend of Charles Lamb, and a con-
tributor to : ' The London Magazine." Messrs
Routledge kindly consenting, I procured, at not a
little expense, the plays and poems of Darley, some
of which I purchased through Messrs Ellis of Bond
Street, and others through a publisher in Liverpool.
I applied to Canon Livingstone, the Hon. Mrs
Livingstone, and Miss Evelyn Darley, with the
result that the complete poetical works of Darley
can now be purchased for one shilling net; and I
have had the gratification of a public acknowledg-
ment from Professor Saintsbury, in the third volume
of his " History of English Prosdy." I dedicated
the volume, which had given me much pleasure to
compile, to Dowden. Amongst my purchases in this
connection was a copy of Darley's " Thomas a
Becket " presented by the author to " Alfred Tenny-
son, Esq," Lord Tennyson, the late Laureate's son,
kindly replied to one or two queries, and when I
told him about this book, said he would like to
possess it in case I should at any time wish to part
with it. I am glad to say that it is still in my posses-
sion.

128

CHAPTER XIII

SOME DUBLIN CHARACTERS

Some Dublin Characters " Sir " Davy Stephens The
Dublin Jarvey Dicky Borne Damnosa Hereditas
King Edward VII. and Mr Jones Michael Doyle
Mr J. M. Glover The Gaiety Theatre Michael
Gunn Major Gamble, R.N. A True Poet John
O' Duffy Percy French Rev Dr Collisson Alfred
Smyth and Sydney Grundy " Bed and Board."

DUBLIN is full of people with strongly marked person-
alities. People who are not satisfied to be like
others, but prefer to be themselves alone. If a
visitor travels to Ireland via Holyhead and Kings-
town, by the fine boats of the City of Dublin Steam
Packet Co., he will, on landing at Kingstown, strike
a well-known personality in the newsvendor " Sir "
Davy Stephens, who was knighted many years ago
by Lord Spencer, popularly known as " the Red
Earl," on account of his fine tawny beard. Lord
Spencer was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland at the time
(1882), and the legend is that as Davy Stephens on
bended knee presented Her Majesty's representative
with copies of the Irish daily papers, the " Red
Earl " smote him on the shoulder, and jocularly

exclaimed " Arise, Sir Davy Stephens ! " " Sir " Davy

129 i

In Castle and Court House

Stephens had only to take out letters patent to be
a true knight, but he preferred, like the Irishman
he is, a joke to remain a joke, showing thereby a
true sense of humour. " Sir " Davy attends the
Derby every year, and annually calls upon his many
friends, including the writer.

It is ten to one that the first car driver one strikes
on visiting Ireland is as truly a born humorist as
was Mark Twain. Sir George Moyers was fond of
telling a good story about a jarvey who used to drive
him to Glenageary at night when by any chance he
missed the last train from Westland Row. One cold
night, or rather morning, Sir George having paid the
fare, handed the jarvey a glass of whisky, and on
being handed back the empty glass, said " Well,
Pat, isn't that good whisky ? " " Begorrah, yer
honour," said honest Pat, " I forgot to taste it ! "
Another jarvey on being asked the same question,
replied, " Faith it's made a new man of me, and
shure he's thirsty, too ! "

One of the most amusing characters in Dublin
was Dicky Borne, a diminutive barrister and Justice
of the Peace. Dicky used to sit on the bench at
Rathfarnham Petty Sessions. One day a delinquent
was brought before him, who was noticeable chiefly
for his very red nose. " What is this case, Borne ? "
asked a brother magistrate, " Another case of
damnosa hereditas? replied Dicky, as he took a
pinch of snuff.

A very pompous individual, whom we shall call

" Jones " was fond of airing his views. His Majesty

130

Some Dublin Characters

King Edward had laid the foundation stone of a
public building I think that of the King's and
Queen's College of Physicians when I met Jones
and said to him, " Well, Mr Jones, I saw you at the
ceremony yesterday. What did you think of the
King?" Jones pressed the finger tips of one hand
against those of the other, and replied with character-
istic pomposity :

" Oh ! he's quite the gentleman, you know, quite
the gentleman."

Another noted character in Dublin was the late
Michael Doyle, manager of the Gaiety Theatre, a
trusted servant and friend of Mr Michael Gunn, who
was long associated with Mr D'Oyly Carte. Doyle
was a very laconic individual. He reminded me of
the twin brothers in one of Edgar Saltus's novels,
who were blessed with the gift of taciturnity and were
known in consequence as " Dry " and " Extra
Mumm." My friend, Mr James Glover, the well-
known composer and musical director at Drury Lane,
and ex-Mayor of Bexhill-on-Sea, years ago called at
the Gaiety Theatre, and asked for Mr Doyle.

" I'm Mr Doyle," said Michael.

" My name," said Glover, sticking his glass more
firmly in his eye, " is Mackey Glover."

" I can't help that," said the imperturable
Doyle!

One of the many roles I have filled was that of
sub-manager of the Ulster Bank, College Green,
Dublin. I was at the same time attached, in a
nominal way, to The Dublin Evening Mail, writing

In Castle and Court House

dramatic notes and notices of the Opera. In this
way I came into personal contact with Mr Doyle
who at first was icy in his manner but gradually
thawed as time went on. I found he appreciated a
little attention and therefore from time to time sent
him copies of the magazines and books which I
reviewed.

One day I found I had no books by me, and there-
fore wrote a line to Messrs Hodges Figgis and Co.,
Booksellers to the University, saying " Please give
bearer a two-shilling novel." This note I handed to
the bank porter with another addressed to the
manager of the Gaiety Theatre, asking for a couple
of stalls, instructing the porter to take the parcel he
got from Hodges Figgis on to the theatre and hand
it in with my letter to Mr Doyle. The porter did as
he was instructed, and in due course I got my pass.
Judge my surprise, however, when at the end of
the month I got included in my bill from the book-
seller an item " twelve novels at two shillings each,
i 45." As I had not mentioned title or author, the
firm had kindly sent me a dozen from which to
select, and James had delivered the lot to Mr
Doyle !

I have to plead guilty to rather a heartless joke
in connection with Michael Doyle, with whom I
never was on really friendly terms, and whom I
always addressed as " Dear Sir " save on one occa-
sion. The occasion arose out of the fact that I had
promised to try to secure a box at the Gaiety for some

friends, and on the very morning of the day on which

132

Some Dublin Characters

my application should be made, I saw with conster-
nation in a morning paper : " Sudden death of Mr
Michael Doyle."

Officials in Irish banks are not overburdened
by the amount of their salaries, and three guineas
are three guineas, and represented a sum of money
I had no inclination to spend on this particular
evening's amusement. At first I thought the theatre
might be closed. No such luck ! It was to be closed
on the day of the funeral. " Dead men tell no
tales," said I, as I penned a request for a box in the
following terms

" MY DEAR DOYLE, I am coming down to-night.
Keep the omnibus box for me, like a good chap,
Your old friend, RAMSAY COLLES."

This I sent off early in the day, and received in
due course a voucher for Box A, a fact on which
I congratulated myself, for had I not saved three
guineas ? Three weeks later I received a letter in an
envelope edged with black. " Hello," I mused,
" Who's dead? " The letter ran

" GAIETY THEATRE, DUBLIN."

" DEAR SIR, As a personal friend of the late Mr
Michael Doyle you will, no doubt, be pleased to
subscribe to the funds for a fitting memorial to him,
etc. (signed) CHARLES HYLAND."

Doyle was succeeded as manager of the Gaiety by
one of the most popular men in Dublin, the writer
of the letter just quoted. I never referred to my
application for a box on the day of Doyle's death

133

In Castle and Court House

to Hyland, as I thought the matter too delicate, but
I feel certain Hyland knew what he was about
when he sent me that order for Box A!

A keen lover of reform, and, with all respect (and
indeed, admiration), a watch-dog for abuses is Major
Gamble, R.N., who has for many years been, in
his own words, " first grave-digger " at Mount
Jerome Cemetery. In other words Major Gamble
is at the head of affairs in connection with the Pro-
testant Burial Ground in South Dublin. I at one
time cherished the hope that he would see that I
was myself " buried respectable " but, having joined
the Cremation Society of England, even that slight
link between Ireland and me has been severed, and
Matthew Arnold's lines have been realised

Men dig' graves with bitter tears
For their dead hopes!

Major Gamble is an ardent enthusiast in all
matters of social reform. He keeps a keen eye on
human affairs, in addition to watching " o'er man's
mortality," and the vast majority of reforms in Dublin
have been owing to his initiative. In order to relieve
the monotony of living in a house surrounded by
graves, he has had erected in the picturesque neigh-
bourhood of Brittas a compact dwelling made of
corrugated iron, and I have had the pleasure of fish-
ing with him in the little lake close to his house
among the Dublin Mountains, and of drawing the
net which annually clears the waters of destructive
perch.

Some Dublin Characters

Major Gamble had, years ago, a chaplain at Mount
Jerome who was a poet of rare gifts, as the following
specimen of his verse will prove

O, had I a Lumpty-tum, Umpty-tum to,

In the land of the Olive and Fig,
I would sing of my Lumpty-tum Umpty to you,

And play on my Thing-um-a-jig.

And if in the Lumpty-tum battle I fall,

A Lumpty-tum 's all that I crave ;
O, bury me deep in the What-ye-may-call,

And plant Thing-um-bobs over my grave !

Major Gamble has an able lieutenant in my old
friend Simon Maddock, who is the happy possessor of
a tenor voice of rare quality, and whose sunny disposi-
tion cannot be affected by worms or graves or
epitaphs.

One of the most picturesque figures in Dublin
is the erect and soldier-like one of John O'Duffy,
L.D.S., R.C.S.I. A pioneer in his profession, Mr
O'Duffy was one of the founders of the Dental Insti-
tute, and has for years been calling public attention to
a crying evil, and one which has of recent years
received the serious consideration it deserves. More
than half a century has elapsed since John O'Duffy
pointed out the national calamity which must follow
the general neglect of the teeth. It required a
national calamity to rouse the nation to a sense of
the gravity of his words. The war in South Africa
proved the truth of his dictum that an army marches
on its stomach and fights with its teeth. O'Duffy
on one occasion won a bet by running blindfold

135

In Castle and Court House

from Nelson's Pillar in Sackville Street to the
Wellington Monument in the Phoenix Park, touching
all the public buildings on his way to and from. He
started at one o'clock in the morning and finished
two hours later, covering the distance, some six
miles, in wonderful time considering that he was
temporarily deprived of his eyesight.

I am glad that when I lived in Dublin, Percy
French resided there also. His " Chuckles in
Chalk " are now familiar to London audiences, but
at the time to which I refer he was only commencing
his career of crime in conjunction with the Rev.
Houston Collisson, Mus. D., with whom he perpe-
trated a comic opera on the subject of Freeny, a
highway robber, who had been

Brought up on the strictest plan
That's why he became a highwayman.

One of the best bits in the opera was the exclama-
tion by the highwayman after he had deprived his
victims of all their valuables

Ye got off very well ;
I'd have fleeced ye far more if I kept a hotel !

I suggested to the collaborators, through Mr
Whitbread the genial manager of the Queen's
Theatre, that an opera on the subject of Strongbow
would prove a success if closed with a tableau of
Maclis's great picture, " The Marriage of Strongbow
and Eva." French and Collisson took my advice
and produced " Strongbow up to Date," with strik-

136

Some Dublin Characters

ing success. French made a speech at the fall of
the curtain on the first night, asking those present
to come again and bring their " relatives and friends/'
not necessarily the same persons!

Encouraged by French and Collisson's success,
Alfred Smyth, F.R.G.S., the author of " Sir Dun-
stan's Daughter," and other entertaining volumes of
verse, and the late Edgar Little produced " The
Warlock," a very able piece of work. There was a
strange resemblance between the libretto of " The
Warlock " and Sidney Grundy's libretto to " Haddon
Hall," produced about the same time. In fact, so
close was the resemblance that Alfred Smyth, got the
passages printed in parallel lines, and sent them to
Grundy for an explanation. Sydney Grundy replied
: ' This is very interesting, but you've forgotten one
point of resemblance, my private secretary's name is
Smith."

Percy French's songs are very popular, par-
ticularly " Mat Hannigan's Aunt," which to me has
always been reminiscent of " Martin Hanni-
gan's Aunt," by Lever. Much of his published
fun is buried in the files of " The Irish Jarvey " and
in back numbers of " The Irish Cyclist." He
told me on one occasion that he was staying
jin the country at a house where the landlady
professed to give bed and board for twenty-five
shillings a week. " I assure you," said French,
gravely " I was there a week before I discovered
which was the bed and which was the board."

137

CHAPTER XIV

PUBLIC ENTERTAINERS

Public Entertainers Valentine Vousden Mr T. W.
Russell, M. P. Charles Duval The Rotunda M.
Guibal and Mile. Marie Greville The Kennedy
Family George Grossmith " James Berry: Public
Executioner " "A Society Clown " Percy
French Harrison Hill Adelaide Detchon Charles
Collette David Charles Bell The Edison-Bell
Phonograph Sir Robert Ball Professor Greville
Cole The Cork Literary and Scientific Society I
lecture in Cork The Poet's Club Mr G. K.
Chesterton Mr Henry Simpson.

THE first public entertainer I had the good fortune
to see was Valentine Vousden the ventriloquist and
variety artist whom all old Dubliners will remember.
Vousden used to sing a song about the Irish jaunt-
ing car, in the character of the driver. One verse
of it ran something like the following

Do ye want a car, yer honour ?
Och, shure, here's the wan for you :

A rale Irish jaunting-car,

And it's painted green and blue.

The rest of the song was devoted to the glories of
being " rowled out to Sandymount " " to pick cockles
on the strand," or driving to " the strawberry beds
and back to town again."

Vousden went through one or two fortunes. The

138

Public Entertainers

last time I saw him was in January, 1900, when on
the invitation of the Guardians, I visited the North
Dublin Union with Mr T. W. Russell, M.P.
Vousden was an inmate, and a very cheerful one,
and I was able to shake hands with a man who had
delighted me when I was a child.

Another public entertainer, and one who had a
world-wide reputation was Charles Duval who used
to appear annually at the Rotunda in Dublin. The
Rotunda Buildings include a Chapel of Ease, a
Lying-in Hospital, a Rink, and halls which are
devoted to concerts and political and religious meet-
ings. One evening I sat in the gallery listening to
Duval reciting the plot of a pseudo play which he
did very rapidly and which ran something like the
following

" The Piratical Pirate of the Precipitous Preci-
pice, or The Premediated Prey of Proud Power and
the Prodigiously Proper Plight of the Preponderous
Plunderer of Patagonian Proportions. Children and
nurses may witness this play as the plot is not taken
from the French." A little later he appeared in a
monologue as the lodging-house slavey, blackening
a boot and alternately brushing the boot and the wig
which he wore to represent the slavey's hair.

Boy-like I was listening intently when a country
man sitting beside me, who had also been listening
with marked gravity, whispered to me, " An' whin,
may I ax, does Misther Parnell come on ? "

Parnell was addressing a political meeting in
another part of the Rotunda!

i39

In Castle and Court House

Public attention had recently been directed,
through a libel action to Mile Marie Greville whose
name was long associated with the late M. Guibal.
This extraordinary man at one time essayed to teach
me French, a task in which he was not very success-
ful, which was my fault, not his. He gave up giving
lessons in French about 1880, and left Dublin, only
to reappear a few years later as " a dealer in magic
and spells," accompanied by Miss Marie Greville,
who with closed eyes and to all appearance in a
trance, walked about the room, thought-reading.

I went to see Guibal in his new role, and was
welcomed by him at the entrance to the hall in which
his performances took place. He greeted me, I
thought, rather effusively, even for a Frenchman;
clapping me on the back and patting me on the
shoulder. I discovered the secret of this demonstra-
tion of affection on his part on taking off my top-
coat, for, as I removed my gloves and put them in
one of my outer pockets, I found in it a lady's gold
watch! My first impulse was to return it. My
second was to spoil Guibal's game. I did neither.
I was loyal to him, and, when having borrowed <i
small gold watch, he sent it flying through the air
and declared it had settled in my pocket, I assumed
aa air of innocent surprise, and, after a diligent
search through all my pockets, I produced the watch
to the great delight and astonishment of the audience.

Guibal asked me to write some verses for publi-
cation, addressed to Mile Greville. I wrote the
following

140

Public Entertainers

As, clad in white, them walk'st 'mid silence deep,
With loosen'd hair and ever closed eyes,
Methinks them comest in no meaner guise

Than Shakespeare's queen who wandered in her sleep,

Telling the secret that she fain would keep
Unto the listening air. Or Elaine pale
The Lily Maid who down the stream did sail

'Neath autumn skies to sound of sickles' sweep.

Thou seemest these ; nor less than these art thou :
A spirit regal and, as these are, bright,

Bearing thy queenship written on thy brow,
Crowned with beauty, clad about with light.

Thy soul upon thy lips and in thy glance,

O daughter worthy of great Hugo's France!

It is strange that after long years an absurd story
should have been revived that Guibal was shot dead
in South America by Mile Greville !

Other public entertainers I remember were the
Kennedy family, all of whom perished in a theatre
fire at Nice. They used to sing songs in Scottish
dialect with infinite humour.

The prince of public entertainers is, of course, the
unrivalled George Grossmith, who used to appear
at the Antient Concert Rooms in Dublin at least
once a year. I had a visiting card printed bearing
the legend

JAMES BERRY,

Public Executioner.
Sheriffs Attended.

141

In Castle and Court House

This card I sent to Mr Grossmith's retiring room
in the interval between the first and second part of
his programme, with a request for an interview. He
at once appeared and smilingly asked, glancing at
the card, " does this mean come and have a chop
with me ? " I apologised and said I wanted his auto-
graph for a richly bound volume of his autobio-
graphy, entitled " A Society Clown," which it was
intended to sell at a charity bazaar. He immediately
signed the book for me. Mr Grossmith, whenever
I met him on later occasions said he had never for-
gotten this incident.

Percy French, whom I have already mentioned, is
in his own line inimitable. His entertainments given
with Harrison Hill were capital. Some of French's
songs deserve to be better known. His " The Night
that Miss Cooney Eloped," for instance, with the
statement that the sweep with whom Miss Cooney
eloped moved in the best society.

" As a sweep he might go
To their houses, you know,
But was only admitted as such."

French, in his amusing lectures on Dublin, was a
capital entertainer. He hit off Dubliners in a
wonderful way. A very respectable man who sells
whips to the carmen at the corner of the Provost's
house is a well-known figure in Dublin. " No one,"
said French, " appears to know who he is. Some
says that he is a gentleman in disguise, all I can say is
that if this is the case, the disguise is very complete."

One of the most fascinating of public entertainers,

142

Public Entertainers

if not indeed the most fascinating I have ever seen,
was Miss Adelaide Detchon. No pen and ink des-
cription of her could possibly convey any idea of
her charm and grace. She used to recite poems
chiefly American and her recital of Tennyson's
" Blow, Bugle, Blow " was exquisite in its delicate
beauty.

My friend Charles Collette is too well known in
England to be more than merely mentioned here.
It may be news to some that Charles Collette is not
alone a comedian of world-wide repute, but also a
poet of the deepest dye, as the following lines
prove

" When the monolith nods in its lair,

And the butterfly chirps to the drone;
When asbestos has buried his care
'Neath the oval philosopher's stone.

Oh, then wreathe the daffodil's song
Round the walrus's pale dappled brow,

While whispering whortles all throng
To the honey-flecked juniper bough.

And if the weird plethora's mate

Should creep to the cacophone's niece,

Then tortuous woodbines are straight,
And the dawn of the dodo is peace.

Opodeldoc is melting to curd,

And far on the Caspian Sea
The pale crescent moon may be heard

In her hundred and third apogee.

Loud sings the mohurram in. glee,
And his saraband waves up aloft,

Si Tityre tu patulce

Recubans sub tegmine, Soft !
143

In Castle and Court House

Do you think there is sense in my lay ?
Do you think there is wisdom in me ?
If you do and you do, I daresay,

WHY THEN, WHAT AN ASS YOU MUST BE ! "

The first public reciter I ever heard was Professor
David Charles Bell, author of " Bell's Standard Elo-
cutionist," a very popular book. Professor Bell's
son is associated with Edison in the Edison-Bell
phonograph. Bell's " Elocutionist " was, to a certain
extent, superseded by an excellent volume compiled
by the Rev. John A. Jennings, whose recitals in
public were always well attended. Sir Henry Taylor
deplored the neglect of the art of reading aloud. In
our own day the strictures of Mr Punch on the atti-
tudinising of the reciter has led to a still greater
neglect of oratory or declamation.

Among lecturers, Sir Robert Ball, the Astronomer
Royal, is one of the most successful. His lectures
on astronomy are always popular, and he makes
them a skilful mixture of the mirthful and the marvel-
lous. One of Sir Robert's stories is that some years
ago he was invited to stay with friends in the
country. At the last moment they wrote apolo-
gising for not meeting him at the railway station,
which for some reason or other they could not do.
Sir Robert, on his arrival, looked in every direction
for the carriage which was to convey him to his
friend's house. At last the coachman approached him
and apologised for not having done so earlier, saying,
" I was told, sir, to look for a distinguished-looking

gentleman."

144

Public Entertainers

Sir Robert, after a lecture on the stars delivered
before a provincial audience, turned to a lad near
him (who happened to be my nephew, Robert
Beare, now, alas, gone where there is none) and
inquired, " How do you spell Orion ? " " O'Ryan,"
replied young Beare, " from the Irishman who dis-
covered it! "

Professor Mahaffy makes an excellent lecturer.
On one occasion I found my name on a list of lec-
turers between those of Professor Mahaffy and Pro-
fessor Greville Cole, a fact of which I am naturally
proud.

I was engaged to lecture on Swinburne at the
Assembly Rooms in Cork, by the Cork Literary and
Scientific Association. By a curious error I missed
my train and the next train from Dublin did not
arrive in Cork until ten minutes after the lecture was
announced to commence! There was no help for it.
I wired Mr Stoney, the secretary, and donned
evening dress in my compartment as the train
approached Cork. It was raining heavily and the
month was November, " the dreariest month of the
year." I flung my bag on a jaunting car, and drove
rapidly to the Assembly Rooms. As I got off the
car, my foot slipped in the darkness and my bag fell,
opening as it did so, and the contents, including my
books and clothes, were in an instant smothered in
mud! My chagrin can easily be imagined as I
groped about, aided by the driver, in search of studs
or tooth brush! One MS. volume to this day bears
stains of mud on its cover acquired that night !

145 K

In Castle and Court House

The lecture was not a success, though my audience
was a most patient one, and of the thousand persons
of which it was originally composed, at least seven
hundred heard me through.

My reason for thinking the lecture was not a
success arose from the fact that a man on whom
I called next day and asked if he had been to the
Assembly Rooms, replied that he had not, but that
his wife and daughter who had been there had told
him that it was the " rottenest " lecture they had ever
heard! Not having been to the lecture he did not
guess he was speaking to the lecturer !

Since that evil day I have delivered lectures on
literary subjects in London with gratifying success,
on one occasion being asked to fill the place of Mr
G. K. Chesterton at a dinner of the Poets' Club. Of
course, I could not fill Mr Chesterton's place, but
I spoke for three-quarters of an hour, extempore, on
the relations of Science and Poetry, and by this
means succeeded in distracting the attention of the
audience from the fact of his absence, to the evident
satisfaction of the excellent chairman, Mr Henry
Simpson, the President, and, I believe, the founder
of the Club.

146

CHAPTER XV

SOME MEDICAL MEN AND OTHERS

Abraham Colles "Colics' Fracture" Surgeon William
Colles Sir Thomas Myles "One of them Lumps "
Professor John Mallet Purser " The Blood of a
Reptile " " Doctor Bob " Kenny" Kennan and
Sons " The Zoological Society and Mr Justice
Ross Curious Collateral Security " Battersby "
Collis The Butler and the Funeral I am Condemned
to Death Doctor Ernest W. Harris A Doctor of
Laws The Theatre Royal, Dublin, and Fred
Mouillot.

THE name Colles is closely associated with surgery
ever since Abraham Colles described the double
fracture of the radius, now known as " Colles'
fracture." Abraham Colles was twice President of
the Royal College of Surgeons, Ireland. His life
has been written in a special memoir prefixed to a
selection from his works made by Dr Robert M'Don-
nell for the New Sydenham Society, and his name
appears in the Dictionary of National Biography.
He was Regius Professor of Surgery in Trinity
College, Dublin, and Surgeon-in-Ordinary to the
Queen in Ireland. Abraham Colles was twice
offered a baronetcy but declined the honour on the
ground that he wished to distribute his money

In Castle and Court House

equally among his children. He was a friend of
Charles Lever, and his name occurs twice in " Harry
Lorrequer."

William Colles, son of Abraham, held both his
father's appointments. He also was President of the
Royal College of Surgeons, and his portrait by
Osborne hangs in the same room as that of a full
length portrait of his father by Martin Creegan,
President of the Royal Irish Academy. A marble
bust, by Foley, of Abraham Colles is in the entrance
hall of the College.

Of William Colles, Sir Thomas Myles, himself a
Past President, is fond of telling a good story. It
appears that when Sir Thomas was a student, an
abnormal case of tumour puzzled the class, and the
lecturers also. The class were all in readiness, note-
books out, pencils sharpened. Breathless attention
as the Regius Professor entered the room and
approached the patient. Colles looked attentively
at the tumour, and to the astonishment of everyone
present declared it to be " one of them lumps ! "
That was all that could be got out of him !

Of Professor John Mallet Purser, an amusing
story is told by Dr Fitzgibbon. It was a viva voce
examination, and the serum of a frog had been put
on the slide of a microscope for the examination of
the student who was to declare what it was. The
first student successfully pronounced it to be " the
blood of a frog." On leaving the room he managed
to convey the information to a fellow student, who

was far from bright. Purser had in the meantime

148

Some Medical Men and Others

removed the slide and substituted one bearing a
drop of his own blood. The student was asked to
pronounce, and declared that the object was " blood."
He was then asked " What kind of blood ? " to which
he replied, " I think, sir, it's the blood of a reptile ! "

My friends in Dublin included the coroner, Dr
Joseph Kenny, who was at one time mixed up with
the Home Rule Party, and his brother Robert, who
was a bit of a wag. He also was a medical man, and
was popularly known as Doctor Bob.

I was a Fellow of the Royal Zoological Society
of Dublin, a body I joined on the invitation of Pro-
fessor D. J. Cunningham, M.D., late of Edinburgh.
Doctor Bob and I were one day inspecting some new
cages supplied to the Gardens by Messrs Kennan
and Sons (whose premises in Fishamble Street, by
the way, were once occupied by Handel). As Kenny
and I were looking at the cages, in which three or
four small kangaroos had temporarily been placed,
a man inquired " An', may I ax, sir, what may them
animals be ? " Doctor Bob at once replied, glancing
at the label on the cages, " So far as I can see they're
Kennan and Sons ! "

A propos of the Zoo, on one occasion the Gardens
required some expenditure of money, and Judge
Ross being Chairman of the Committee, repaired to
the Bank of Ireland where the account of the Society
was kept, to ask Mr Macmorragh Murphy, the Sec-
retary of the Bank, for a little temporary overdraft
until the subscriptions came in at the beginning of
the new year. The Bank Secretary naturally

inquired what collateral security the Zoological

149

In Castle and Court House

Society proposed to offer, to which His Honour
Judge Ross replied, " Simple deposit of two Royal
Bengal Tigers and a Boa Constrictor ! "

A sad fate was that of Maurice Henry Coliis, of
the Meath Hospital, who was known as Battersby
Coliis, on account of a remarkable operation he per-
formed on the late Mr Battersby. That estimable
gentleman was a well-known auctioneer and land-
agent, and one of the most respected citizens of
Dublin. He suffered from an osseous growth on
his face, a growth which finally began to impinge
on one of his eyes and threatened to close it. He
consulted Coliis who got an ivory mallet and a chisel
specially made for the purpose, and by these means
removed the ossified obstruction. Coliis, whose
career has been noticed in " The History of the
Meath Hospital," written by Sir Lambert Hepen-
stall Ormsby, M.D., died while still a young man.
During an operation he was performing he punc-
tured his hand with a spicula of diseased bone, and
died of blood poisoning. Half Dublin attended his
funeral.

The profession of medicine does not lend itself
much to humorous treatment, so I may be forgiven
for telling the following in connection with a well-
known medical man in Dublin who was several times
married. On the occasion of the funeral of, I think,
the doctor's third wife, one of his professional
brethren arrived too late to follow the hearse from
the residence, and, being anxious to catch up to the
other carriages, he asked the old butler, who had
been for years with the family, in which direction the

150

Some Medical Men and Others

funeral had gone, to which query the butler, without
a moment's hesitation replied, " Well, sir, he gener-
ally takes them " (meaning the various wives) " up
by the South Circular Road."

My own acquaintance with medical men from a
professional standpoint has, unfortunately, been
extensive. I was condemned to death by seven fully
qualified M.D.'s so long ago as 1890, and was told
by more than one man eminent in his profession, that
I had not more than twelve months to live! I was
trying to get my life insured, and had some difficulty
in getting my desire fulfilled. One man told me my
heart (the organ that troubled me) would burst.
Finally the late Sir George Porter passed me as a
good life, and I have now the melancholy satisfaction
of having outlived all the wiseacres who condemned
me to death!

I have already mentioned the name of Dr John
Knott, the brain specialist who often amused me with
stories about the profession. Dr Knott, Mr Bram
Stoker, and Mr Frankfort Moore married sisters,
the Misses Balcombe. One of Knott's stories was
to the effect that a Liverpool man arriving in Dublin,
had a serious affection of the brain. A great surgeon,
now deceased, was called in and being an advocate
of the knife insisted on the operation known as
trepanning, i.e., cutting through the skull a circular
hole in order to discover if possible, the cause of the
disease. Knott demurred, but the great man had his
way. The patient died, and his widow was furious
that she had not been consulted. The great man
was called to account by his peers at the College of

In Castle and Court House

Surgeons, and being nervous of the issue he wrote
to Knott as follows:

" DEAR KNOTT, Please send me a note stating
why we trephined in that Liverpool case. Let your
answer be very scientific and very long."

I suppress the name for obvious reasons, though
there is little need to do so.

My friend Dr Ernest Harris had a curious experi-
ence on one occasion. He was staying at an hotel
on the coast near Dublin and was called up at
two o'clock one morning by the Irish night porter
who, knocking loudly at the bedroom door awakened
him and shouted, "Doctor, doctor, you're wanted at
wanst, come at wanst for the luv av' Heaven.
You're wanted be 47."

Dr Harris hastily donned some clothes and
hastened to the door indicated. Here he found a
lady whom he recognised as staying at the hotel,
having met her and her daughter several times at
the table d'hote. The younger lady was lying in bed,
and the elder at once appealed to Dr Harris, saying
" Oh, doctor, doctor, what can be the matter with
my poor darling?" Harris was much disconcerted,
but being one of the most courteous of men, he
replied :

" I'm very sorry, but I really don't know."

' You don't know ! " almost shrieked the distracted
mother, while two chambermaids opened their eyes
in astonishment at the idea of a doctor not being
able at a glance to diagnose any ailment.

" No," replied Harris, suavely, " possibly she's
taken something that's disagreed with her."

152

Some Medical Men and Others

" Perhaps its poison ! " wailed the mother, " save
her, doctor, save her! "

" I'm sorry I can't do anything for her, madam,"
said Dr Harris.

" Oh, don't say that, doctor, don't say that," cried
the lady, while over the patient's face stole the sem-
blance of a smile.

" Calm yourself, dear lady," said Harris, " and send
for a medical man, that is my advice."

" But you're a doctor, are you not ? " asked the
lady, much surprised.

' Yes, I am," replied Dr Harris, " I'm a Doctor
of Laws!"

This is the story, but it has been stated that the
elder lady having heard that Dr Harris remarked
that a woman's beauty consisted in her hair, had
determined that he should see that the golden wealth
on her daughter's head was genuine, and hearing
Harris addressed as " Doctor " had devised a scheme
by means of which she could display these tresses
for the admiration of a young, good-looking, and, at
that time, unmarried man! But the looked-for
engagement, like the lady's hair, did not come off!
Dr Ernest Harris, far from being a medical man,
is a well-known Solicitor, and Director of the Theatre
Royal, of which my old friend and schoolfellow,
Frederick Mouillot, is another. It is to Mouillot
and David Telford, of Craig, Gardner and Co.,
that Dublin owes the existence of this fine theatre,
which is second only to Drury Lane in seating
accommodation and stage appointments.

153

CHAPTER XVI

MUSICIANS I HAVE MET

Dublin a Musical City Sir Robert Stewart and his
Successor Dr James C. Culwick One Way to
Criticise Opera ! Herr Theodore Werner Dr Annie
W. Patterson, the Originator of the Feis Ceoil Mr
Swift McNeill, M. P. Caught at the Catch Club-
John Hemsley Mme. Adelaide Mullen and Mr Henry
Beaumont " The Spectre's Bride " Mme. Georgina
Burns Mrs Power O'Donoghue Dr Hans Richter
Sir George Grove Rev. R. H. Haweis Mrs Page
Thrower.

DUBLIN, it is well known, is a city in which good
music is not alone thoroughly appreciated, but it is
one in which I have been told by many musicians,
the audiences at opera, concert, or recital, display
keen discernment.

One of the ablest exponents of music, and an
eminent composer, was the late Sir Robert Stewart,
organist of the Chapel Royal. Sir Robert Stewart
was the chief music critic on The Dublin Daily
Express, and his articles on grand opera were very
much admired. After Sir Robert's death there was
some difficulty experienced in filling his post on the

i54

Musicians I Have Met

Express. One man who was appointed, pro tern.,
was such an admirer of Stewart's articles that he
followed his leader too slavishly. For instance,
Stewart on one occasion wrote a sentence something
like this : " How can Signer Arditi imagine that he
can dispense with the second trombone in Act II?
This is an insult to an audience possessed of any
knowledge of Wagner's work," etc. The new critic
who criticised the same opera after Sir Robert's
death, had the same fault to find, the absence of the
second trombone. But alas ! for the critic, the second
trombone was not absent on the occasion ! The
writer had looked up the files of the Express and
transcribed Sir Robert's criticism.

Sir Robert Stewart was succeeded as organist of
the Chapel Royal by the late James C. Culwick,
Mus. Doc., the composer of " The Legend of Stau-
fenberg," in which, when performed at the Antient
Concert Rooms, I had the pleasure of hearing
Madame Clara Samuel. Dr Culwick in buying some
old books discovered a score of Handel's in the
parchment covering of one of them. When a per-
formance of Culwick's works was given in the theatre
of Trinity College, Dublin, in recognition of his
assistance during the Tercentenary Celebrations, he
included in the programme one of his songs,
" Forsaken," of which I wrote the words, which are
as follows

Oh, what to me the bursting bud and harmony of Spring,
If not for you the blossoms blow, for you the throstles
sing?

155

In Castle and Court House

The sweetest song, the fairest flower, is neither sweet

nor fair,

If you no more are by my side with me the joy to share.
Can Summer be what Summer was in sunny hours gone by,
When longest days were short to me, for you were ever

nigh?
No joy the brightest day can bring, no peace the fairest

scene
They bring but back the memory of that which once hath

been.

Sad, sad to me the Autumn hues, and desolate the ways
Where by the stream at eve we went to dream of golden

days;
Those days, alas! that find me now as you I ne'er had

known
Alone I breast the winter winds I live and die alone !

Culwick's composition was a little too heavy for
these simple words, but I was deeply gratified by
the fact that the song was sung by Mrs Culwick with
a violin obligate specially composed for the occasion
by Herr Theodore Werner.

A lady who started a great movement in Ireland
is Annie W. Patterson, Doctor of Music. Miss
Patterson (I shall not sink the sex in the degree)
originated the Feis Cecil which has become a recog-
nised institution in Ireland. The Committee give
prizes for musical compositions varying from operas,
or operettas, to pianoforte solos and songs. The
organisation of this great movement for the
encouragement of musical talent, is now quite a
complex affair, as every village in Ireland is
embraced in the scheme. To Dr Annie Patterson
the honour belongs of starting the Feis Ceoil. The
first meeting in connection with the scheme when

156

Musicians I Have Met

projected by her, being held in Dr Sigerson's
drawing-room.

The Catch Club in Dublin is an old and famous
institution. The membership is composed largely
of the Vicars-Choral of St. Patrick's Cathedral. I
have frequently been the guest of one or other
member of the club at their pleasant dinners, which
are, as may be supposed, enlivened by song.
Being all loyal Britishers, it is a custom at the Catch
Club to sing the National Anthem at the dinners
after the loyal toast. Judge my surprise when on
one occasion during the singing of this item, a
protest was raised by Mr Swift McNeill, Nationalist
M.P., who indignantly left the room, followed by
his reluctant and astonished host! I was the guest
that night of the late John Hemsley, a Vicar-choral
of St. Patrick's, who will long be remembered in
Dublin on account, not alone of his wonderfully
sweet alto, but also for his sweetness of disposition.
Hemsley was an Englishman, and his indignation
knew no bounds and he implored me to give publicity
to the affair, which I did in a leading article in The
Dublin Evening Mail, entitled, " Caught at the
Catch Club," in which I called attention to the fact
that the Club was composed of loyalists and gentle-
men (a phrase used by the Freeman's Journal to
which organ Swift McNeill had appealed), but that
occasionally they entertained people who were
neither.

One of the members of the Catch Club, and one
of the finest bassos the world had ever heard was my

In Castle and Court House

dear old friend Ben Mullen, whose son of the same
name was my companion at Bective College, and
is now Curator of Pendlebury Museum, near Man-
chester. A daughter of the grand old basso, Mme
Adelaide Mullen, is well known in London, not
alone as a Cantatrice, but also as " Wilton King,"
the composer of some beautiful songs, notably one
with the refrain " For the Hearts in good old Ireland
are the Hearts that don't forget." Miss Mullen has
been for many years the happy wife of Harry
Beaumont the able exponent of leading parts in the
old Carl Rosa Opera Company during Rosa's life,
and later in the Arthur Rowsby and National Opera
Companies, and, if I mistake not, in the Moody-
Manners also. Some humorous comments were
made when Miss Adelaide Mullen and Mr Henry
Beaumont on the eve of their marriage, took the
leading parts in " The Spectre's Bride," at a per-
formance given by the Trinity College Choral
Society. Beaumont certainly looked far from being
a spectre !

Among musicians I have known I can count Mme.
Georgina Burns. She had a marvellous voice and
told me that when she appeared in Sir Julius Bene-
dict's opera, " The Lily of Killarney," the aged
composer, who was blind, was, by request, led up
to the young girl (as Madame Burns was then), in
order to congratulate her on her performance.
Georgina Burns married Leslie Crotty, a fine
baritone, who used to make one of the most vigorous
Escamillos I have ever heard in " Carmen."

158

Musicians I Have Met

Another musician well known not alone in Dublin,
but in London and New York, was Dr Power
O'Donoghue, whose wife, and now, alas! widow,
Nannie Power O'Donoghue is famous as a horse-
woman, having won the brush from the Empress of
Austria when her late Majesty visited Ireland ; and,
as the author of " Grandfather's Hunter," " Ladies
on Horseback," and other works of fiction or of
reference. At the O'Donoghue's pleasant gather-
ings in quiet Peter's Place all the most noted
musicians who visited Dublin might be seen. Dr
O'Donoghue was a prince of good fellows, and few
could match him at telling funny stories and whimsi-
cal anecdotes, while Mrs O'Donoghue made an ideal
hostess. Occasionally when pressed by their guests
to sing, their voices might be heard in an unaccom-
panied duet, such as " I Saw from the Beach."

There are a few leading musicians I have not
met, from Mme. Patti down. Looking over
my diaries I note such names as Albani ; Nikita, the
Russian Nightingale ; Decca ; Guilia Ravogli ; an
ideal " Carmen," and a magnificent exponent in
" Orfeo " ; Lablache ; Zelie de Lussan ; a delightful
Juliet in Gounod's " Romeo " ; Alice Gomez, praised
by Haweis; Madame Clara Butt; Ada Crossley;
Minnie Hauk; Olitzka; Miss Percival Allen ; Medora
Henson ; Mme. Fanny Moody ; Aurelie Revy : and
many other queens of song. I have met from time
to time Charles Santley, whose gifts have rightly
been recognised in a knighthood ; Mr Joseph
O'Mara; Sir Arthur Sullivan; David Bishpam;

In Castle and Court House

Kennedy Rumford ; Edward Lloyd, and Pierpoint
Mr Charles Manners and I attended the same college
" grinder " and sat side by side for some months. I
can claim an old acquaintanceship with Barton
McGuckin, who took the leading parts in the old
Carl Rosa for years ; and with Snazelle, of whom the
same may be said. Few that heard Snazelle in those
days as " Mephistophiles " can forget his voice,
which, strange to say, is to-day as strong as ever.

When Dr Hans Richter visited Dublin to conduct
the series of Wagner's works produced through the
untiring energy of Mrs Page-Thrower, I had the
pleasure of meeting the great conductor at the Pro-
vost's house. I have been praised for my criticism
of music by no less an authority than Sir George
Grove, and have been complimented by R. H.
Haweis, the author of " Music and Morals," in a letter
which it took me weeks to decipher !

In local musicians Dublin is rich while she can
claim such composers as Signer Esposito and Dr
Jose and such executants as a Walter Bapty, a Melfort
D'Alton, and a Charles Kelly. As I have left Ireland
some years I do not know whether she still possesses
Mrs Scott-ffenell, and Miss Lucy Ashton Hackett.
I hope she does.

I have had the pleasure of hearing words of my
own composing twice encored when sung by Miss
Helen Brooks, io whom the song had been dedicated
by the composer of the music, my cousin, Alexander

Colles, and with these words I close a very egotistical

160

Musicians I Have Met

chapter, contenting myself by stating that the verses
were written in my teens.

In the Springtime's early beauty,
In the morning's primal hue,
When the earth is ever fairest
And the skies are ever blue;
In the Springtime of our being,
When no sorrows mar the brow,
Will you love me now, my darling?
Will you love me, love me now?

In the noontide's golden glories,
In the glow of Summer's prime,
Ere we reach the Autumn langour
In the onward march of time ;
When at the soul's meridian,
Which we ne'er can reach again,
Will you love me then, my darling?
Will you love me, love me then?

In the sad and solemn twilight,
Ere the night shall end our day;
In the dark and weary winter,
Ere our lives shall pass away.
When Death comes slowly, surely,
As he cometh to all men,
Will you love me then, my darling?
Will you love me, love me then ?

CHAPTER XVII

NOCTES AMBROSIAN^:

A Mild Symposium Some of the Company " Dying all
over the Shop " The Imperturbability of Waiters
" Any smaller change, Sir? " Irish Stew A Theory
on Heredity Mahaffy on Cleopatra's Twins Edwin
Hamilton on Sheep-dip The Value of Shorn Lambs
The " Noiseless Tenor " Judge Madden and the
American Lady " Dutch William " and " The Diary
of Master William Silence " Colquhoun and The
Great Bed of Ware.

I HAD a habit when living in Dublin, of giving what
my friend Professor Louis Claude Purser, F.T.C.D.
called a symposium, but which I designated by the
more prosaic title of " a whiff and a whisky." This
consisted of gathering a few male friends into my
study in No. 6, Warwick Terrace, Leeson Park;
and discussing with them all manner of things, while
on a side table reposed a jar of whisky, or, as Sir
John T. Gilbert, the historian, termed it, " The
Spirit of the Nation," a bottle of brandy, some
syphons of mineral waters, a jug containing a sample
of water from the river Vartry, and a tray filled with
cherry pipes and churchwardens, and a jar of

tobacco.

162

Noctes Ambrosianae

I say these things " reposed " but occasionally
their repose was rudely broken, for, as a wit
remarked, " whisky improves with age, but we won't
let it."

Let me see if I can recall the past, and bring before
my readers a true picture of one of these " parties
in a parlour." My parties consisted at one time, or
another, of such men as George Dames Burtchaell,
Barrister-at-Law, and Assistant Ulster King of
Arms, Robert Yelverton Tyrrell, ex-Regius Pro-
fessor of Greek in T.C.D., J. R. Clegg, Editor of
The Dublin Evening Mail, Professor Dowden,
Edwin Hamilton, the Aristophanes of Ireland, J.
Moody Lowry, of the Vice-Chancellor's Court, a
Barrister, and author of " The Keys' 'At Home/ "
and other humorous verse ; Percy French, James
Poole Maunsell, proprietor of The Dublin Daily
Express, Signer Esposito the Composer, the
Rt. Hon. W. F. Bailey, at that time of the Irish Land
Commission, George Kelly, B.L., who was known as
" the man who knew everything," W. A. Craig, the
Poet, John B. Healy, now the Editor of The Irish
Times, Dr A. J. Callaghan, the able Secretary of the
Royal Irish Steam Packet Co., H. S. Macran,
F.T.C.D., F. St. John Morrow, B.L., now Secretary
to Sir Edward Carson, M.P., Signer Negroni, the
Composer; E. Haviland Burke, M.P., a grand-
nephew of Edmund Burke, and many others whose
names I cannot at the moment recall.

The proceedings were undoubtedly cheerful, for

we were all younger than we are now, but never

163

In Castle and Court House

hilarious, for not even the most youthful person
present belonged even remotely to the crowd

" That crashed the glass and beat the floor "

nay, rather to the goodly company of those pictured
by Tennyson in " In Memoriam " who held

debate

" On mind and art,
And labour, and the changing mart,
And all the framework of the land."

I remember Burtchaell remarking one night
" Strange death reported in the papers this morning :
' Died suddenly at 101, 102, 103, 104, and 105,
Great Snook Street, John Smith, aged 80.' '

" Ah," said Hamilton, " another case of ' dying all
over the shop,' I suppose."

Colquhoun, a well-known member of the City and
County Conservative Club told us that he had had
a rough time when getting examined in connection
with a life-annuity.

" The doctor, ' he said, " asked me at least fifty
questions. Had I had this disease ; had I had that
disease, until he tired me out. At last he said, ' I
have only one more question to ask you, Mr Colqu-
houn, what do you usually drink ? '

" And what did you reply ? " I queried.

" Oh," said Colquhoun, " I simply said ' whatever
you're taking yourself, doctor.' '

Someone having told a story of having played
a practical joke on a waiter, Hamilton said, " I never

do that. It always ends in failure. I once gave a

164

Noctes Ambrosianae

city waiter, as if in ignorance, a brass trouser button
in payment of drinks for a party, and he drew my
attention to it on the salver by asking ' Any smaller
change, sir ? '

" But, surely," I asked, " country waiters are
vulnerable ? "

" No," replied Hamilton, " once in the heart of
the country, I entered a small inn on a July day
and found the coffee-room swarming with blue-bottle
flies. I turned to the waiter and asked, ' What are
the flies a dozen ? ' and I assure you he replied with
the utmost gravity, ' Sure, sir, it's by the pound we
sell them/ "

Clegg one night recited some verses he had
written on " Irish Stew," which I thought very good,
and give a few lines from memory here, reminding
my readers of Moore's reference to the time

" When Malachi wore the Collar of Gold
Which he won from the proud invader."

:< This is only a preliminary," said Clegg, " as the
alligator said to the soldier, when he swallowed his
knapsack "

In ould ancient days, faith! the dish was a sneezer
'Twas full of men's hands of a deep bloody red,

Skulls, cross-bows, and long-bows, and grand harps of

Tara,
And slices of Malachi's gold-collared head.

It was on one of these occasions that I introduced to
Hamilton my friend John O'Duffy, and I remember
when they were parting O'Duffy's making an

165

In Castle and Court House

inquiry as to Hamilton's age, and when he learned
what it was, exclaiming " Why, I might be your
father!"

" Well, perhaps you are," said Hamilton, unable to
resist giving utterance to one of the best impromptus
I ever heard in my life, " perhaps you are, good
night."

Someone started the subject of heredity and I
told those present of Mahaffy's statement to me : " if
you have a good strain you intensify the good strain,
and if you have a bad strain you intensify the bad
strain. Look at Cleopatra : she represented the fourth
generation of brothers and sisters who intermarried."

" And yet she had beauty ? " I queried.

" Oh, yes ; we have historic evidence that she was
beautiful."

" But had she health and strength ? " I asked.

" She must have had," replied Mahaffy, " she had
twins ! "

It was Mahaffy who, when asked for a definition
of " an Irish bull," replied " an Irish bull, my dear sir,
is pregnant with wit."

Edwin Hamilton told us how having attended an
auction of goods left in railway carriages, a watch
chain was put up for sale, but failed to attract any
bid until someone called out, " Put up a watch with
it," which, being done, the chains were sold rapidly.
Later, umbrellas, rugs, hats, and a variety of other
articles came under the hammer. At last a quantity
of sheep-dip was put up, but attracted no buyers,

until Hamilton called out, " Put up a sheep with it! "

166

Noctes Ambrosianae

Someone referred to the " Carols of Cockayne," by
Henry S. Leigh, and a member of the Savage Club
told us that one night a man whom we shall call
Lowe made himself so objectionable that he silenced
the whole room, all the members present being
anxious that he should, like a clock, run down by his
own weight. Henry S. Leigh, with the view of
accelerating his departure, said

We've heard, in language highly spiced,
That Lowe does not believe in Christ;
But what we really want to know,
Is whether Christ believes in Lowe!

This led to another anecdote with a specimen of
Leigh's wit. It appears that a member of the Club
had recently been knighted, and had returned to
Adelphi Terrace after some months' absence, with
a very swelled head. On being asked where he had
been, he replied, " At my old ancestral home in
Essex."

" What do you call your ancestral home ? " asked
Leigh.

" Burnburry Court" replied the newly made
knight, with emphasis.

" Oh, we know that" said Leigh, " but what's the
number? "

On my making the commonplace remark that it
had been a cold blustry day, Hamilton said, " Yes,
I keep wishing that some shorn lambs might be in
my vicinity," referring to Lawrence Sterne's well-
known dictum that " there is One who tempereth

167

In Castle and Court House

the wind to the shorn lamb," a statement which not
a few people believe to be in the Bible.

Tales of car drivers were common, one of the best
of them being that Jehu when asked what did his
fares usually pay him, replied, " Well, yer honour,
the meanest of them gives me half-a-crown ! "

Tyrrell, referring to an intolerable bore of colossal

proportions, remarked, " Don't you think that S

has all the qualities of an elephant except sagacity ? :>

Someone in speaking of the choir in his native
country town, said, " Even the old tenor who was
there in my father's time is still a member. Of
course, he has quite lost his voice but I was glad to
see the old man in his accustomed place," whereupon
Hamilton said, referring to a familiar line in Gray's
" Elegy "-

" So they kept the noiseless tenor."

My readers will understand that I only give the
recollections of years ago, and have, perforce, to
give only " the top-most froth of thought." The con-
versation often took a deeper tone, as when, for
instance, Tyrrell maintained that Walter Savage
Landor, in the immortal lines on Rose Aylmer,
verses beloved of Charles Lamb, should have written
in the plural instead of the singular

" Nights of memories and of sighs."
instead of

" A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to thee."

With profound respect for a great scholar and one

[68

Noctes Ambrosianae

possessing keen discernment in poetic literature, I
feel sure that ill lovers of Landor will demur at
this dictum.

An amusing story is told of an American lady who
on being informed that at dinner she would meet
Judge Madden, author of a delightful book on
Shakespeare, entitled, " The Diary of Master William
Silence," determined to refer to it when introduced to
the author. This she did by telling the judge, " Oh,
Judge, I've been reading that charming book of
yours on Dutch William."

" Dutch William? " queried the puzzled judge.

' Yes, your book on William the Silent ! "

A reference being made to the great Bed of Ware
which could hold 40 persons, Colquhoun remarked,

" D d awkard piece of furniture, fancy having

to whistle for your wife."

There was a rumour that a Civic Official, a butcher
in Dublin, was to be knighted in connection with a
Royal visit Burtchaell at once suggested, on account
of his calling, that the new knight should be dubbed,
" Sir Loin O'Rafferty " (or whatever the name was).

169

CHAPTER XVIII

SOME LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE

Some Literary Correspondence Errors of Authors Sir
Leslie Stephen's " Hours in a Library " Danger
of quoting from Memory Bret Harte's Poems
Shenstone, not Herrick My Letters to William
Morris and Robert Browning Letters to William
Ernest Henley Matthew Arnold and Arthur Hugh
Clough Swinburne's Solitary " Limerick " Count
Tolstoy Report of his Death " greatly exaggerated."

IN my youth, with all the arrogance of youth, I was
fond of finding fault with my elders, and undoubtedly
my " betters." But it was indeed in no spirit of fault-
finding that I wrote to some eminent men from time
to time, seizing the opportunity to do so, not with
a view to autograph collecting, for such was never
my hobby, as I gave away many of the replies I
received, especially if the letters were merely per-
functory acknowledgments of my own.

One of the first letters I addressed to a public man
was written to Mr (afterwards Sir) Leslie Stephen,
advocating the publication of a cheaper edition, of
his delightful series of studies, entitled, " Hours in a

Library " ; and at the same time pointing out that

170

Some Literary Correspondence

the quotations in the essay on " The Ethics of
Wordsworth " were incorrect in nearly every instance.
Leslie Stephen sent me a very gracious acknowledg-
ment, and said that my suggestion in connection
with " Hours in a Library " had been anticipated, and
added, " I regret to learn that so many errors are to
be found in my Wordsworth essay; it was the first
time I attempted to rely on my memory for my
quotations, and you may be sure it shall be the
last."

When thanking the great writer for his letter, I
took the opportunity to send him a transcript I had
made of his essay on Wordsworth, thus giving him
irrefutable evidence of the great store I set by the
essay for I had transcribed it when still a boy, and
when, owing to lack of pence, I was not in a
position to buy the volumes, which were then sold in
sets only, at something like nine shillings per volume.
Sir Leslie Stephen was evidently touched by this
fact, and expressed his gratification in a later letter
which is remarkable chiefly for an expression of his
opinion that " to be known is a very doubtful bless-
ing," and thus my correspondence with him ended.
The essay on " Wordsworth's Ethics," I may add,
still appears with all its imperfections.

With Bret Harte my " correspondence " was a one-
sided affair, possibly owing to the fact that he was
travelling through the States when I wrote to him,
suggesting the correction of the sub-title of one of
his poems, which was erroneously stated to be " after

Herrick." The verses contain the following lines,

171

In Castle and Court House

and are to be found in Bret Harte's earlier, racier
work

" She wished (I remember it well,

And esteemed her the more for that wish)
For a perfect cystidean shell
And a whole holocephalic fish."

This is not an imitation of Robert Herri ck, but of
Shenstone, whose poem " I have found out a gift for
my fair " it follows closely

" I have found out a gift for my fair

I have found where the wood pigeons breed;
But let me that plunder beware
She would say 'twas a barbarous deed.

" For none could be true, she averred,

Who would rob a poor bird of its young;
And I loved her the more when I heard
Such tenderness fall from her tongue."

Bret Harte never replied to my letter, but I noticed
that in later editions of his poems, the incorrect
ascription to Herrick was dropped.

In much the same spirit I wrote to William Morris,
asking him why the lines in " King Arthur's Tomb "
had been altered for the worse from

The Moon shone like a star she shed
When she dwelt up in heaven a while ago,
And ruled all things but God :
to

' The Moon shone like a tear she shed ";

and also why the reading

" O sickle cutting harvest the day long ! " had been
given instead of " cutting hemlock."

172

Some Literary Correspondence

Morris replied that " it was a long time ago," and
added, with something like a sigh for the " tender
grace of a day that is dead," " star ! " is evidently the
correct reading, as also " hemlock," which is
obviously right.

Early in 1888, I was handed, one fine morning by
my dear friend, William Ponsonby, of Ponsonby and
Weldrick of the Dublin University Press, a curious
little book of poems, published by another friend of
mine, for whom I had a great respect, and one whose
memory all Britishers must honour, the late Alfred
Nutt. The title was " A Book of Verses." " What
do you think of them ? " asked Mr Ponsonby. I
could scarcely tell at first glance, but paid my half
crown, and read

" Out in the bay a bugle is lilting a gallant song."

A gallant song indeed, was that lilted by William
Ernest Henley. I read and re-read his " Rhymes
and Rhythms." To my untutored ears the rhythms
consisted of " prose cut into lengths," but, neverthe-
less, ears attuned to Walt Whitman, found music in
Henley. I amused myself by writing a column and
a half in The Dublin Evening Mail, and sent the
cutting to Mr Alfred Nutt, whose untimely death,
which took place recently in Paris, in endeavouring
to save the life of his son who survives him, all
interested in Celtic literature deeply deplore.

In acknowledgment I got a long letter from Henley,
who wrote from Chiswick. He said I was right in
my conjecture that the title " A Book of Verses " was

In Castle and Court House

from FitzGerald's " Omar Khayyam." He depre-
cated my statement that his rhythms were " prose cut
into lengths," and added that if I couldn't find any
music in his verse, he regretted the fact. He thanked
me for my review, and said that Whitman at his best
sang, and sang clearly. The letter was signed, as
all Henley's were as a rule, with his initials only,
4< W. E. H.," and closed by saying that he had been
in bed some time with " a twisted foot."

Of course, I was aware of the fact that Henley had
suffered, and had been operated on quite recently
at the Old Edinburgh Infirmary, but I thought it
might divert him if I continued the discussion, so I
wrote telling him that I had bought about a dozen
copies of his book, a fact calculated to cheer him,
and that I had read aloud his fine poem " Out of
the Night " to some half dozen young men, and that
it and others of his poems had been received with
applause.

I remembered my audience on the occasion to
which I referred included the late William Larminie,
whose work is quoted by Professor Saintsbury in
his "History of English Prosody"; Frederick J.
Gregg, William Butler Yeats, George Russell, better
known as " A. E.," and Charles Weekes, all of whom
have written poems of very excellent quality. At the
same time I added that I could not accept such a
line as

" The poor old beggar explains his poor old ulcers "
as poetry.

Some Literary Correspondence

Henley replied saying that he was indeed glad to
hear from me in such memorable terms, and defend-
ing himself as a realist in verse. He again stated
that if I found no poetry in his rhythms he was sorry
for me, and that he would not willingly " exchange
ears " with anyone who did not. I replied that I
loved and honoured Wordsworth as a poet, but that
I did not accept such lines as

" A common tub like one of those
Which women use to wash their clothes."

as poetry of any kind whatsoever, but that I should
not trouble him further on the matter, and wound
up by thanking him for " Out of the Night," which
was, indeed, in Elizabeth Barrett Browning's phrase
*' medicated music suited to mankind's forlornest
uses," and there the matter ended. I have referred to
this poem of Henley's more than once, and may be
pardoned for quoting it here

" Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade;

And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
U75

In Castle and Court House

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate :
I am the captain of my soul.

At the risk of appearing frivolous I cannot refrain
from quoting my friend Dr Robertson Wallace, who
with this poem in his mind, said:

" No married man is the Captain of his soul. As a
general rule the Captain of his soul is his Mate."

One of the most popular of Robert Browning's
shorter poems is " The Lost Leader "

Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a riband to stick in his coat.

For many years the identity of " The Lost Leader "
was matter for conjecture, and having heard the
point disputed, I resolved to settle the matter by
appealing to the poet. At the time I was unaware
that Browning had written on the subject to Dr
Alexander B. Grossart, the Editor of Herrick and
of Giles and Phineas Fletcher, and that Grossart,
in his edition of the prose works of William Words-
worth had printed Browning's letter, from which it
appears that Browning had replied to the same
question from private inquiries scores of times.
Luckily the poet was one of the most patient and
courteous of mortals, and by return post I got a
letter from the author of " The Lost Leader," dated
fiom Warwick Crescent, in which he wrote :

" DEAR SIR, I confess to having taken Words-
worth as a kind of lay figure for my poem, but never
meant to breathe a word against the genius of the
master."

176

Some Literary Correspondence

I submitted this note to Mrs Sutherland Orr when
she compiled her " Life of Robert Browning," but
she did not deem it important enough to include in
her book.

Readers of " The Cornhill Magazine," if they
possess the volumes edited by Thackeray, will
remember an excellent article on the genius of Arthur
Hugh Clough, the author of " The Bothie of Tober
na Vuolich." It was on Clough that Swinburne, I
believe, composed the only " Limerick " of which he
was ever guilty

There was a bad poet named Clough
Who wrote some detestable stuff;

But the public, though dull,

Had not quite such a skull
As belongs to believers in Clough.

J. Russell Lowell, on the contrary, held that
Clough was the most representative English poet of
his time. A judgment with which many will feel
inclined to agree. Someone in a small literary society
to which I belonged in those days, having stated that
the article in " The Cornhill " was by Matthew
Arnold, I wrote to Pain's Hill Cottage, Cobham, and
had a reply from Arnold, dated " Christmas Eve,
1889," in which Arnold wrote that he did not write
the article in question, " though some words on
Clough will be found in my lecture on translating
Homer."

When Vizitelly published the first translation into
English of Tolstoy's " Anna Karenina " and Matthew
Arnold declared that in consequence of its excell-

177 M

In Castle and Court House

ence we should all soon be learning Russian, I
wrote to Count Tolstoy congratulating him on the fact
and asking his acceptance of a small volume of selec-
tions from Walt Whitman. The little book reached
Tolstoy's hands, at Yasnaya Polyana with oblitera-
tions made by the Press Censor on nearly every
page!

When Count Leo Tolstoy's cousin, also a Count
Tolstoy died in 1887, I was asked by the Editor of
The Dublin Evening Mail to write a leading article
on the subject for the morning edition. The Editor
appeared to be under the impression that it was the
great Russian writer who was dead, and my instruc-
tions, accordingly, were to deal with the career of
the author of " War and Peace " and " Anna
Karenina." I wrote the article with genuine sorrow
for the decease of a great literary artist. Judge
my surprise on the following day, when, having
seen by the morning's papers that Tolstoy the writer
was not dead, and that the false report was in con-
nection with the death of a distant relative, I found
my article in the Mail! There had been no time to
substitute another article, mine was simply prefaced
by a few words stating the facts of the case, and
to these my article had been dovetailed !

When six months had elapsed I sent a copy of
that issue to Tolstoy, but whether it reached him or
not I never heard.

History repeats itself, and Tolstoy's death has
again been prematurely reported, this time, alas! to
be confirmed in the end.

178

CHAPTER XIX

MASONIC MEMORIES

Freemasonry in Ireland and Freemasonry in England
The Irish Volunteer Lodge Old Records The
" Firing Glass "The Duke of York's Lodge
XXV. Sir Charles A. Cameron, C.B. Lord
Roberts Lord Kitchener The Earl of Shaftesbury
Lodge XXV. dines in the Temple The Munificence
of the late Bro. Henry Arthur Blyth Sir Thomas
Devereux Pile, Bt. " Irish Masonry Illustrated "
Letter from Sir James Creed Meredith, LL.D. The
Duke of Abercorn Viscount Templetown Lord
Castletown Bro. W. Harding Lawder The Quatuor
Coronati Lodge General John Corson Smith of
Chicago The Duke of Connaught and Lodge XXV.

MASONRY in Ireland differs considerably from
Masonry in England. In Ireland there is no rivalry
between the Mark Mason and his brother the Free
and Accepted member of the Order who is to be
found at labour in Freemason's Hall. In Ireland
the Freemason is readily accepted as a Mark Mason
and as readily as a Knight Templar, and I was
therefore astonished when told by that learned
member of the Order, Bro. Henry Sadler, the
librarian of Freemason's Hall, that the Mark Masons

had a hall of their own.

179

In Castle and Court House

I have been a Master Mason since 1893. I knew
nothing of the Craft prior to that date, but it had
long been my ambition to be enrolled among its
members. Accordingly, when an opportunity pre-
sented itself I was nominated for Lodge 153, by the
late Frederick Charles Ramsay, who was my partner
in a timber-importing business in which I was
engaged: one of the many phases of my strangely
diversified life. I was admitted and initiated by
Bro. George Bell, a well-known and highly respected
ship-broker of Dublin.

But Lodge 153 did not fulfil my requirements in
Masonry, and I therefore was affiliated to Lodge 620
being struck by the glamour of the history of this
ancient lodge, which bears the proud title of " The
Irish Volunteers' Lodge," a Lodge founded prior to
the Volunteer Movement of 1852, the year in which
this country was supposed to be threatened by
invasion from France, just as at the present time she
is supposed to be regarded as the prey of Germany.
The Lodge was undoubtedly founded in troublous
times, and faced them with spirit. The late R. W.
Bro. Keating Clay used to delight in telling how
Lodge 620 used to be held on the sands at Sandy-
mount when the tide was out, and how it was " tiled
by the serried bayonets of the Irish Volunteers."

It was at one time my sincere wish to write the
history of the rise and progress of this remarkable
lodge. With this view I borrowed, and had for a
long time in my possession the minute books and

other records of the lodge, lent me for the purpose

1 80

Masonic Memories

by Bro. the Rev. T. B. Gibson, M.A., now Canon
of Ferns, who was succeeded as Secretary to the
Lodge by his brother-in-law, Bro. J. T. Ray, an
Inspector of the Bank of Ireland.

These ancient documents, marvellously preserved,
were indeed a delight to handle. They proved that
the light of Freemasonry burned brightly in Ireland
during dark and troublous times. In one of the
volumes were recorded the minutes of a meeting held
on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo.

It is strange the association of ideas in a single
word. The word " Waterloo " recalls to me the fact
that a friend of mine being in a desperate hurry to
catch a train from the well-known terminus jumped
into a taxi-cab in the Strand, shouting the single
word "Waterloo." "The station, sir?" queried the
driver, " No," yelled my irate friend, " the bloody
battle field ! " The epithet " bloody," I may remark,
is not inappropriate when applied to a battlefield.

But to return to the minutes of Lodge 620. To
look over those ancient documents with their dis-
coloured pages and faded ink, their solemn style and
faded signatures, was indeed to get a glimpse of the
doings of a day that is dead. In these pages, with
all due ceremony, there was recorded such an
important fact that Bro. So and So was fined for
non-attendance, and that such and such an amount
had to be paid for " glass broke."

Not being quite au fait with the history of
Masonry, I could not discover why so many glasses

were " broke," until my friend Dr Chetwoode

181

In Castle and Court House

Crawley told me that heavy and almost solid glasses
were used in those days and were called " firing
glasses," being employed for what is now done by
clapping the hands when a "running fire" is called for.

When at refreshment the Brethren of Lodge 620
produced with justifiable pride the ancient flags and
banners which had braved the battle and the breeze in
the old days of the Irish Volunteers, and especially
did they pride themselves on a waxen effigy, life
size, of an Irish Volunteer in his uniform as he lived !

In 1895 I was affiliated to Lodge 25, known as
The Duke of York's Lodge, the lodge having been
named after the Duke of York, whose monument
turns its back on Waterloo Place, and is adorned by
an aggressive lightning conductor, which rises like
an indignant single hair from the head of the statue.
It cannot be said that in this case " beauty draws us
by a single hair," though it may draw the lightning!

Lodge 25 has for its able secretary Sir Charles
Cameron, C.B. (City Analyst of Dublin), a fact to
which the lodge owes not a little of its numerical
strength and its popularity. It numbers among its
members, honorary and otherwise, Lord Roberts and
Lord Kitchener ; and when I was in Dublin and an
active member of it, the W.M. of the Lodge was
the Earl of Shaftesbury, a very energetic musical
member, who often delighted the Lodge during
refreshment, with his songs, the accompaniment to
which his Lordship played himself.

Lodge 25 is, I believe, a revival of the old and

long extinct Lodge of Munster.

182

Masonic Memories

The Warrant, No. 25, was first issued on the
1 3th November, 1733, to a Lodge in Youghal,
County of Cork, and after some vicissitudes passed
into the possession of another Co. Cork Lodge in
1809, by whom it was retained until 1823. The
number was next used by a Lodge connected with
the 25th Regt, whose warrant was surrendered in
1839 to Grand Lodge. The present Warrant of
Lodge No. 25 is dated 4th November, 1853, and
was issued to Bros. E. C. Carleton, Rev. C. E. Tis-
dall, and T. P. Swan, Members of Lodge 494. The
Lodge met for the first time on 5th November, 1853.
No regular meeting of the Lodge was held from
i4th October, 1859, until nth January, 1866, when
a large number of Brethren were proposed for affilia-
tion, and were elected on the i8th January, 1866.
Since that date 218 initiations and 123 affiliations
have made the Lodge by far the largest in Dublin.
All the important professions are represented in it.
The Present Members (of whom 45 are Graduates
of Dublin University) include 21 Army Officers, 12
Barristers, 8 Clergymen, 28 Medical Men (civilians),
10 Solicitors, 4 Engineers and Architects, 2 Con-
stabulary Officers, 2 Stockbrokers, 4 Bank Officials,
and 6 Professors of Music. Total 97. The
number of Present Members (including Honorary
Members) is 147. Through the kindness of Bro.
Anderson Cooper the Original Warrant, dated 1733,
is now in the possession of the Lodge. It was never
surrendered to Grand Lodge.

When I founded in 1901 the only Masonic Journal

183

In Castle and Court House

worthy of the craft, a sixpenny monthly, printed on
art paper and entitled " Irish Masonry, Illustrated,"
I devoted an early number to the history of Lodge
25, and gave a facsimile of the original charter,
several portraits, and many interesting facts.

One of the most curious facts in connection with
the Lodge was that on one occasion it invited
its guests to refreshment in the Temple ! The facts
are these. When the late Henry Arthur Blyth,
brother of Lord Blyth (at that time Sir James Blyth),
well known in connection with the great firm of
Walter Gilbey, was W.M. it was found that the
applications for seats for refreshment were so
numerous that no hall in Dublin was available, suit-
able for so large a gathering of members of an
avowedly esoteric body. The matter was desperate,
and despair had seized the officers of the Lodge until
it was decided, permission being granted, to hold the
dinner in the Temple itself! and dine in the Temple,
Lodge 25 did! being the first to do so, as it is
assuredly the last Lodge that ever will. I was present
on the occasion, my guests included my friend the
late James Pile, brother of Sir Thomas Devereux
Pile, J.P., D.L., ex-Lord Mayor of Dublin. The
W.M., Bro. Henry Arthur Blyth, marked the occasion
by subscribing two hundred guineas each to the Boys'
School, the Girls' School, and the Centenary
Fund.

In founding '"' Irish Masonry Illustrated," in
Dublin in 1901, I believe I supplied a very much

needed organ for the Order in Ireland. It was a

184

Masonic Memories

handsome publication, and with a view to give
increased interest to the election of candidates for
the schools, I introduced a feature which might be
copied by The Freemason or some of the provin-
cial masonic journals in England with good effect.

This feature consisted of pages devoted to por-
traits of the candidates, by means of which it was
possible for the Governors of the schools (I am
myself a Life Governor of both) to gain some idea of
the appearance of the boys or girls for whom they
give their votes ; and it also assisted those who were
soliciting votes for the candidates to emphasize their
claims by sending copies of the paper which con-
tained the portraits. If a Governor saw a particularly
bright and intelligent face, he naturally voted for
the little boy or girl whose appearance seemed to
contain a promise that he or she would be a credit to
the schools.

That this monthly paper gained the approval of
Sir James Creed Meredith, LL.D., one of the Secre-
taries of the Royal University of Ireland, and the
Deputy-Grand Master of the Masonic Body in
Ireland, the following letter clearly proves.

" CLONEVIN, PEMBROKE ROAD, DUBLIN,
i^th May, 1901.

" MY DEAR COLLES, I must thank you most
sincerely for the copy you were good enough to send
me of the first number of ' Irish Masonry
Illustrated.'

The design of the publication is good, and it has

185

In Castle and Court House

been carried into effect in a manner which leaves
nothing to be desired.

" I am sure that you will continue to provide most
interesting information in connection with the pro-
gress of Masonry at Home and Abroad.

" May I once more renew my good wishes for the
success of your very interesting and useful publica-
tion? Yours fraternally,

"J. C. MEREDITH, D.G.M."

I also had letters from the Grand Master, the Duke
of Abercorn, Lord Castletown, Viscount Templetown,
the Earl of Shaftesbury, and other prominent
members of the Order in Ireland, including that great
authority on the literature of the Order, Bro. Crossle.

In connection with this publication, I devised
another, in order to produce which I had the hearty
co-operation of Bro. W. Harding Lawder, the
Managing Director of the Irish branch of the well
known photographers, Lafayette Ltd. This con-
sisted of photographs of prominent masons in Ireland
at the close of the century, and included portraits of
all the Provincial Grand Officers throughout
Ireland. The photographs were done on India
paper, and the Album, when completed, was
thoroughly representative of the Masonic Body in
Ireland.

During my residence in Ireland I was the local
Honorary Secretary of the " Quatuor Coronati "
(The Four Crowned Martyrs) Lodge 2076, London,

and succeeded in getting many Freemasons interested

186

Masonic Memories

in the work of this Lodge, which is a literary Lodge,
and was founded by the late Sir Walter Besant the
novelist and historian of London. It consists of a
very limited number of members, and a Circle of
Correspondents. The Lodge publishes a Quarterly
which is profusely illustrated and the literary matter
is as a rule entertaining as well as erudite. Bro. G.
Dames Burtchaell, B.L., Athlone Pursuivant is now,
I believe, the Local Secretary in Ireland of this
Lodge, and a more learned Mason than he is, would
be most difficult to find.

One of my pleasantest masonic memories is the
visit to Ireland of that fine old Freemason, General
John Corson Smith of Chicago, who was entertained
by Lodge 25 as was also the Duke of Connaught,
the Grand Master of the Order in England.

187

CHAPTER XX

AN IRISH HUMORIST

Edwin Hamilton His Prize Poem, "Ariadne " " Dublin
Doggerels " " Mongrel Doggerels ""A Visit to
the Zoo " " The Chimpanzor and the Chimpanzee "
Mr F. R. Benson" General Macbeth "Practical
Jokes" The Song of the False Tooth " J. M.
Lowry " The Pedigror and the Pedigree "
" Bully's Acre "The Bigot's Club" Faust " up
to Date Society for Prevention of Cruelty to
Children Sara de Groot in "School.''

I HAVE referred several times to my friend Edwin
Hamilton, whom many called the Sir William
Schwenck Gilbert of Ireland. This may seem an
exaggerated estimate of Hamilton to those
unacquainted with his prose and verse, but I believe
that if my readers have patience enough to glance
through my account of my friend's work, and
the extracts I give from it, that my contention that
he is one of the greatest living humorists will be
allowed.

Edwin Hamilton's merit as a rhymer was recog-
nised in 1872 when he gained the Vice-Chancellor's
prize for poetry in T.C.D. by his metrical drama,
"" Ariadne," a skilful parody of Swinburne's metres

in " Atalanta in Calydon," but though it contains

188

An Irish Humorist

some excellent " fooling," in deftly woven metres,
I pass on to his first volume, entitled, " Dublin
Doggerels," in which the poet, as Civic Laureate,
celebrated the public buildings, squares, and streets
of his native city, and devoted verses to such subjects
as the Zoo and the river Liffey. Of his method let
the following lines from his verses on the Zoo serve
as an illustration

See anon the lithe libretto

Lightly spring from bough to bough;
Hear the strains of the stiletto

Ah! methinks I hear him now.
See, by yonder weeping willow,

At the margin of the lake,
How the snowy peccadillo

Leaves her nest and comes for cake.

A charming little poem which has been set to
music by Herr Lohr is

To MY FIRST LOVE.
I remember

Meeting you
In September

Sixty-two
We were eating,

Both of us;
And the meeting

Happened thus :
Accidental,

On the road;
(Sentimental

Episode.)
I was gushing,

You were shy,
189

In Castle and Court House

You were blushing,

So was I.
I was smitten,

So were you.
(All that's written

Here is true.)
Any money?

Not a bit.
Rather funny,

Wasn't it?
Vows we plighted,

Happy pair!
How delighted

People were!
But your father,

To be sure,
Thought it rather

Premature.
And your mother,

Strange to say,
Was another

In the way.
What a heaven

Vanished then!
(You were seven,

I was ten.)
That was many

Years ago;
Don't let any-
body know.

This poem, which is worthy of Hood, was charm-
ingly illustrated by Harry Furniss when reprinted
in Hamilton's second volume, " The Moderate Man
and Other Verses."

Of the poems in this second volume which was

published by Ward and Downey, one of the most

190

An Irish Humorist

characteristic is " The Chimpanzor and the Chim-
panzee " which is a capital poem for recitation, as
indeed, are many of Hamilton's poems. Perhaps
one of the best for this form of entertainment is his
" General Macbeth " which has never appeared in
any collected edition of his work. The author
recited it by request on the occasion of a dinner at
which Mr F. R. Benson, himself an able exponent
of Macbeth was present.

GENERAL MACBETH.

There were three unmarried sisters, who were elderly

and weird,

Inhabiting a blighted heath an uninviting spot;
Each had fingers long and skinny, and moustaches, and

a beard,

And they mixed up toads and snakes and babies' fingers
in a pot

In a pot,
Boiling hot,
An unappetising lot
Of promiscuous ingredients were compounded in a pot.

Well, a Caledonian General Macbeth was there one

night;
They hailed him as a future king. He said, " It's all

a joke;
Because the king is living and has sons." Said they,

" You're right;

But that's not hard to remedy " and vanished in the
smoke

In the smoke.
What they spoke
Might be taken as a joke;

But couldn't kings be taught the knack of vanishing in
smoke ?

191

In Castle and Court House

Macbeth and the unscrupulous but lovely Lady M.,
Determined upon regicide, which wasn't strictly fair,
Considering their monarch was a visitor to them;
And Macbeth, when on the job, perceived a dagger in
the air.

In the air,
He could swear
It was actually there;
Though daggers as a class are very seldom in the air.

The inhospitable couple put their project into force,
And he polished off the servants who beside their

monarch lay,

Alleging that those varlets were the murderers, of course,
For the sons of the deceased had found him rather in
the way.

" By the way,
Would it pay

To assassinate them, eh? "

Thought Lady M., " Those youngsters are extremely in
the way."

When the sons of the departed were communicated with,
Being rather unassuming, they determined upon flight.
The suggestion of complicity was obviously a myth;
But they thought themselves in danger, and absconded
in the night.

In the night,
And a fright,

For they didn't want to fight;

But they left Macbeth the kingdom by decamping in the
night.

Well, as King, he gave a party, and a lot of people came,
And his Majesty expressed regret that Banquo wasn't

there;

That warrior had died at his dictation all the same ;
And now his ghost came striding in, and settled in a
chair.

192

An Irish Humorist

In a chair,
One to spare,

Kept for Banquo, as it were.
Though the company saw nothing but an ordinary chair.

Then his Majesty, to everyone's unqualified surprise,
Shouted queer things at the phantom, which eventually

fled;
And the Queen said, " Never mind him; he is generally

wise,

Though occasionally more or less affected in the head."
" In the head,"
So she said,
But she wilfully misled,
For she knew that he had never been affected in the head.

" Now gentlemen and ladies," she continued, " if I may
Give a practical suggestion though you've not had

much to eat
Of course, I don't insinuate it's time to go away,

But, I may remark, your carriages are waiting in the
street."

In the street
They retreat.

The policeman on his beat

Said, " They're early out, and positively sober, in the
street."

Now, a nobleman, the other Mac, whose father's name

was Duff,

Was prejudiced against the King, as anybody might
Whose family had not been treated tenderly enough,
So he made an affidavit he would meet him in a fight.
In a fight,
That was right;
In a mediaeval light,
All contemporary differences ended in a fight.

Then the Queen was taken ill and took to walking in
her sleep,

193 N

In Castle and Court House

And she told a lot of secrets of the murders she had

planned

Such secrets as an ordinary personage would keep
And she trotted round the bedroom with a candle in
her hand.

In her hand,
Understand,

In a candlestick japanned ;
No queen would condescend to take a candle in her hand.

Macbeth was disconcerted, so he sought the witches out,
And was promised that, till Birnam Wood should come

to Dunsinane,

Of his personal indemnity he needn't have a doubt;
Which uncanny reassurance made him happy in the
main.

In the main,
To retain

His anxiety was vain,
For woods are fairly stationary taken in the main.

At last his fortress Dunsinane was menaced by a

crowd
An enemy who scorned to run, but simply cut their

sticks,
And carried such, with leaves and all, their forces to

enshroud ;

So, when the wood appeared to move, he said, " I'm
in a fix.

In a fix,
For it licks

All creation, and it sticks
In my gizzard. This unfixity has put me in a fix."

In a plain, before his castle, where Macbeth had sallied

forth,

He met with the antagonist who'd sworn to have his
hide.

194

An Irish Humorist

They fought with much intensity, these champions of the

north ;

And his Majesty was ultimately punctured in the side.
In the side ;
So he died,

For his head was misapplied,
In addition to a formidable puncture in the side.

MORAL.

Should you hope to lead a prosperous, aristocratic life,

Take a note of what I say in my capacity of friend :
If you slaughter all your relatives to gratify your wife,
You may find their representatives unpleasant in the
end.

In the end
They may send

You to well, you comprehend.
And now, two monosyllables to finish in
" The End."

I may here remark that Edwin Hamilton in speech
is quite as amusing as in his verse. He makes the
most laughable joke with a serious face, and rarely
smiles at jokes made by others. He had a habit of
wearing a beard for a few months and then shaving
it off for some months, only to return to growing it
again. A lady once complained to him:

" Mr Hamilton, I never recognise you, for you are
always shaving off your beard. How many have you
grown altogether ? "

" I did not grow them altogether," replied Hamil-
ton, " I grew them one by one."

He sometimes called for me on a Sunday, when
we both lived in Leeson Park, to go for a walk with
him. At the risk (literally) of chronicling " small-

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In Castle and Court House

beer" I may add that on one such occasion he asked
me had I any money. By some curious accident I
found on searching my pockets that I had
only one penny!

" Never mind," he said, " that will do."

We were walking along a country road near Dun-
drum and the weather was sultry. I asked Hamilton
what he wanted the money for. He replied, " To
get a drink! " I laughed, and inquired what drink
could he expect for a penny. He answered :

" This is what we'll do. We go into that house,"
indicating one which we were approaching. ' You
ask me what I'll have. I reply ' Brandy and Soda,
doctor,' whereupon you say, ' No, you must limit
yourself to what I allow you, a pennyworth of stout
a day.' Then order a glass of Guinness for me. Of
course, you as my medical adviser don't drink!" (A
glass of Guinness in Ireland can be had for the
humble and heavy coin).

This was a blue look out for me, but I did as I
was told. We walked in and the dialogue was as
given above, but when the glass of stout arrived,
Hamilton put down a sovereign and ordered a brandy
and soda, and pointing to the stout, to the astonish-
ment of the barmaid he said, turning to me, " You
may drink that stuff yourself ! " Of course, I was not
limited to the Guinness. The barmaid was unable
to change the sovereign as the house had only just
opened. Hamilton accordingly took it back, and
tendered the necessary sum. When we left he began

whistling a hymn. I said:

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An Irish Humorist

' You're very religious to-day."

' Yes," he said, " that sovereign makes me so."

"That sovereign," said I, "What's that got to do
with it?"

" Don't you recognise the air ? " he asked. I did,
it was that of " Oh, thou that changest not, abide
with me ! "

This hymn, J. M. Lowry, another Dublin
humorist, used to call " The Song of the False
Tooth," because of the reference to " change and
decay in all around I see."

Edwin Hamilton was, I believe, founder and
President of the Bigots' Club, and wrote for the Club
an amusing poem on " Faust," a theme he treated
on very original lines, introducing snatches of
popular songs. One of the most striking of his
poems is " The Pedigror and the Pedigree " which
is also out of print and runs as follows

THE PEDIGROR AND THE PEDIGREE.

One Hyphen-Brown-Hyphen-Black-Hyphen-De Rose,
Is a person whose pedigree everyone knows.

The Browns were Crusaders,

Or Norman invaders,
And the Hyphens, though small, were redoubtable foes

In the days of " the Charter,"

As Knights of the Garter
At least, so the family history shows.

Then the Blacks were distinguished for medical skill,
Long before the invention of licence to kill;

Their prescriptions were taken

By Chaucer and Bacon,
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In Castle and Court House

And Caractacus sent for them when he was ill ;

And they cured Alexander

The Great and Leander,
By dividing between them a Hollo way's pill.

The De Roses were poets, when poets could claim
To be true men of genius and worthy the name.

Their songs were the neatest,

The purest, and sweetest,
And their works are enshrined in the temple of fame

At least, so they should be,

And probably would be
If down to posterity some of them came.

Then the Hyphen-Brown-Hyphens were lions at Court
In the days when the Joust was a recognised sport.

They dined on six courses,

Kept several horses,
Drank sack out of goblets, and bumpers of port.

Then Oliver Cromwell

Queen Anne, and Beau Brummel
Were the people with whom they were wont to consort.

Then the Brown-Hyphen-Blacks were the scourge of the

sea,
From the cave of Adullam to Trincomalee ;

No cruisers were braver

To capture a slaver
Or to land a rich cargo of pepper or tea.

Against Frenchmen and Dutchmen,

Italians and such men,
You could always get odds of eleven to three.

Then the Hyphen-Black-Hyphens were men about town,
For they all had substantial estates from the Crown.

At the Wars of the Roses

They turned up their noses
They despised that particular form of renown ;

But they'd follow the ladies

(Like Orpheus) to Cadiz;

There were never such mashers from Solomon down.

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An Irish Humorist

Then the Hyphen-De Roses claimed longer descent,
For their name's on the Sphinx, done in Roman cement.

As you find Cain and Abel

But half up their table,
They regarded the Flood as a recent event ;

And the Hyphen-De Roses,

With Aaron and Moses,
Went about in the Wilderness sharing a tent.

So much for his ancestors now in the grave.
Does their sole representative also behave

As a man of high station,

A good reputation,
An escutcheon unsullied by coward or knave?

Is he famous in story,

And covered with glory?
Is he true to the name his progenitors gave?,

He is very much down, and as up as can be
A remarkable (genealogical) tree;

Branch ever so slender

He'll never surrender
He would rather be drowned in the depths of the sea

Though, like many possessors

Of proud predecessors,
His pretensions to grandeur are fiddle-de-dee.

But see to a wealthy relation he goes
An uncle, whose name the directory shows.
He's a generous lender,
And ultimate vendor

Of the goods of which anyone cares to dispose.
" On the ticket what name, sir? "
" Not know me? For shame, sir!
Why, Hyphen-Brown-Hyphen-Black-Hyphen-De Rose."

Notwithstanding the pedigree lately unrolled,
Our hero was frequently out in the cold.

Though so aristocratic,

He lived in an attic
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In Castle and Court House

Till the bailiff came uj> like a wolf on the fold.

The man in possession

Would brook no repression,
So the table, the chair, and the mangle were sold.

When he went to the workhouse (where everyone goes
When his assets all told are but one suit of clothes)
His demeanour was stately,
But modified greatly

By the fact that his boots didn't cover his toes.
" Who are you? " said the master.
" Fell scribe of disaster,
I'm Hyphen-Brown-Hyphen-Black-Hyphen-De Rose."

But the name was too long to be quite taken down
(It appeared, in fact, rather an improper noun);

Though the lack of his titles

Might prey on his vitals,
He was ruthlessly, recklessly registered " Brown."

Still, the Browns were Crusaders,

Or Norman invaders,
And perhaps had some kind of estates from the Crown.

MORAL.

Now, this history's truthful as history goes;
You anticipate, doubtless, the moral it shows,

If the past were the present,

It might be unpleasant,
Or it mightn't, for anything anyone knows.

Don't rely for your merit

On what you inherit,
Like Hyphen-Brown-Hyphen-Black-Hyphen-De-Rose.

Striking as is this poem, Hamilton's prose as
exhibited in his " Waggish Tales," is equally remark-
able. His story of " Bully's Acre," for instance, opens

with

" I bet you the pawn-ticket of my amputation
instruments against your new skeleton."

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An Irish Humorist

" Done ! though I'm giving you about five to three,
for my skeleton, including the second coat of varnish,
cost close on six pounds, your knives are only worth
about five, and it will cost over two to take them
out."

Hamilton wrote the " T.D.C. Tercentenary Pro-
logue " when the undergraduates performed three
plays at the Gaiety Theatre. He also wrote the
Prologue for the opening of the Theatre Royal by
Messrs Morell and Mouillot, including a line
referring to the managers, which brought a ten-
shilling telegram of expostulation from them

" To whom Mouillot (you owe) Morell-oquence than
mine."

At a performance of " School," given at the Gaiety
Theatre, Dublin, to raise funds for the Society for
Prevention of Cruelty to Children ; when the
heroine's part was taken by the gifted Sara de Groot,
Hamilton read a Prologue he had written for the
occasion, in which he referred to the fact that " Cats'
Homes and Dogs' Homes reared their heads on
high," but though even

" The vivisected rabbit had a friend "
and

"Though the doors of Chanty were wide
Children in arms were not allowed inside."

I cannot dismiss Hamilton from my pages, his
name, like Charles the First's head in Mr Dick's
essays, must crop up now and then, but those who
are interested and require further information can

discover much by referring to " Who's Who."

20 1

CHAPTER XXI

TWO IRISH HISTORIANS

Sir John T. Gilbert His History of the Irish Confedera-
tion and the War in Ireland Dr S. R. Gardiner
Waits for Appearance of Gilbert's Volumes History
of the City of Dublin Dennis Florence MacCarthy's
Sonnet History of the Viceroys " Lady Wilde,
from the Author " Rosa Mulholland Lord Russell
of Killowen Villa Nova A Sunday with Gilbert Dr
P. W. Joyce His " Old Celtic Romances "His
History of Ireland The Royal Irish Academy
Ancient Irish Music The Very Reverend John Henry
Bernard, D.D., Dean of St Patrick's.

" GREATEST minds," said Wordsworth, " are often
those of whom the busy world hears least," and this
dictum was often recalled to my memory when I
saw my friend Sir John T. Gilbert enter the doors of
the Royal Irish Academy. Here was a man who had
unobtrusively and patiently toiled for fifty years at
such a great work as the " History of the Irish Con-
federation and the War in Ireland," (1641-1649)
which when completed filled seven volumes, con-
tented with the fact that he was giving a truly noble
gift to his country.

Gilbert, however, was not without his " pepper-
corn of praise," and this was all the more significant

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Two Irish Historians

in his eyes in that it was bestowed by his peers.
Dr S. R. Gardiner, the eminent English historian
waited for the appearance of the volumes during the
progress of his own documentary History of
England. " I am getting more interested," he wrote,
" in the appearance of your book on the Irish
Rebellion, as I am approaching the subject more
closely. I am now working at Strafford's trial, so
that I shall be at the Irish Rebellion by next Spring
or Summer. Is there any hope of your book being
out by that time ? "

The list of Gilbert's writings is a formidable one,
and includes various works in connection with the
National Manuscripts, Historic and Municipal
Documents of Ireland, " A Contemporary History
of affairs in Ireland, from 1641 to 1652," " A History
of the City of Dublin," in three volumes, and
" History of the Viceroys of Ireland ; with Notices
of the Castle of Dublin, and its Chief Occupants in
Former Times."

Of these books the most popular was the " History
of Dublin." This book, of which the first edition
was published in 1854, is a beautiful specimen of
what a Dublin publishing house can do. It was
printed at the University Press, by H. M. Gill, in
whose hands the University Press then was. It has
been out of print for many years, and the copy before
me is marked " very scarce." To anyone to whom
Dublin is dear, Gilbert's History is an invaluable and
deeply interesting record of her past of " days that

are no more." In its pages will be found recorded

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In Castle and Court House

the many and great changes which Dublin has under-
gone. In the first volume is given a map of Dublin
as published by John Speed in 1610, which is, I fear,
somewhat lacking in fidelity to fact, but which clearly
proves how ancient are many of the present titles
of the streets. Winetavern Street, Castle Street,
Whitefriars, St. Andrew's Church, and many others
are marked, as well as the position of ' The
Colledges " (sic). The book is brimful of anecdotes
and tales of other days. Graphic pictures are pre-
sented of various stages in the development of
Dublin. Of days when one could order a " chair "
to attend Handel's Musical Entertainments at the
New Musick Hall in Fishamble Street, or repair 10
the Smock Alley Theatre to see Sheridan perform.
When Gilbert's " History of Dublin " was first
published, Dennis Florence MacCarthy, the Irish
poet, author of " Waiting for the May," wrote the
following sonnet on the subject.

Long have I loved the beauty of thy streets,
Fair Dublin; long, with unavailing vows,
Sigh'd to all guardian deities who rouse
The spirits of dead nations to new heats
Of life and triumph; vain the fond conceits,
Nestling like eaves-warmed doves 'neath patriot brows !
Vain as the " Hope" that, from thy Custom-House,
Looks o'er the vacant bay in vain for fleets.
Genius alone brings back the days of yore :
Look! look what life is in these quaint old shops;
The loneliest lanes are rattling with the roar
Of coach and chair; fans, feathers, flambeaux, fops
Flutter and flicker through yon open door,
Where Handel's hand moves the great organ-stops.

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Two Irish Historians

Gilbert's " History of the Viceroys " came next in
popular estimation. It was published in 1865. The
copy I possess bears the inscription " Lady Wilde,
from the Author." The narrative commences with
the Dublin of Romance, and closes with the reign
of Henry VIII. To read this book in conjunction
with the History of England is to be enlightened
on many points, for Gilbert was not satisfied to
follow in the footsteps of his predecessors, but gave
extracts from hitherto unprinted and little-known
archives, and elucidated, for the first time, facts and
circumstances, up to that time misunderstood or
unnoticed.

Sir John T. Gilbert married one of our most charm-
ing story-tellers, Miss Rosa Mulholland, whose sister
married the late Lord Chief Justice of England, Lord
Russell of Killowen. Lady Gilbert's books, for
instance, " The Wild Birds of Killevy," or, indeed,
any of the volumes which Messrs Blackie and Son
publish annually from her pen, possess a rare fascina-
tion for both old and young readers.

The Gilberts lived in a delightful old-fashioned
house called " Villa Nova," near Blackrock, in the
county of Dublin, not far from the coast. The
house had its own enclosure of great old trees, lawn,
meadow and stream, and is truly " a haunt of
ancient peace." Here Gilbert laboured for fifty years
" among the song birds in which he delighted, and
in friendship with the squirrels that haunted the
ancient walnut trees near his windows." A squirrel

cracking a nut was on his book-plate, and I told

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In Castle and Court House

him once that I thought he was himself a human
squirrel cracking some of the hardest of nuts, the
falsehoods in Irish History to extract the kernel of
truth.

" Sunday was Gilbert's holiday," wrote Lady
Gilbert in her admirable Life of the great Historian,
" and on the afternoon of that day he delighted to
welcome all who would undertake a long walk to
enter at the green, jasmine-covered wicket, rest
under the great walnut trees, and gather round the
afternoon tea-table."

It has often been my privilege and pleasure to
walk with Gilbert on the lawn, in which he took a
great pleasure, and listen to his wit and wisdom,
the former being not unlike the recorded utterances
of Charles Lamb. Gilbert loved a jest, and his eyes
lit up when he thought he had made a better joke
than usual. I seem to see his

... eyes twinkle yet
At his own jest. [Those] eyes lit up

With Summer lightnings of a soul
So full of Summer warmth, so glad

So healthy, sound, and clear, and whole,
His memory scarce can make me sad.

Another Irish Historian whom I have had the
honour to know for many years is Dr P. W. Joyce,
one of the Commissioners for the Publication of the
Ancient Laws of Ireland. Dr Joyce's most popular
books are his " The Origin and History of Irish
Names of Places," and his " Old Celtic Romances :

translated from the Gaelic." He has also written

206

Two Irish Historians

a fine " History of Ireland from the Earliest Times
to 1608," with much judgment, avoiding exaggera-
tion and bitterness, and showing fair play all round.
Dr Joyce resembles a fine old Roman in appear-
ance, the " unsubduable old Roman," as Carlyle
remarked of Walter Savage Landor. He is a prom-
inent Member of the Royal Irish Academy, and
frequently lightens the debates of that learned body,
by references to the romantic legends of old Ireland.
In this way I have heard him relate the story of
King O'Connor Macnessa who was shot in the head
with a "brain ball," i.e., the brains of a defunct
enemy mixed with clay and baked. O'Connor
carried this strange missile in his head for years and
was told never to get excited or he would die.
When the missionaries related to the king how
Christ had suffered under the Jews, he became
excited

The brain-ball leaped forth from his head,
And bequeathing his soul to that Saviour,
King O'Connor Macnessa fell dead.

An important contribution to our knowledge of
Ireland is Dr Joyce's great work in two volumes on
the Social History of Ancient Ireland, in which the
author treats of the Government, Military System,
and Law, Religion, Learning, and Art, Trades,
Industries, and Commerce, Manners, Customs, and
Domestic Life of the Ancient Irish People. This
is a beautiful book containing nearly 400 illustrations
and should be read by all who desire to understand

the Irish People. The perusal of it should be made

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In Castle and Court House

obligatory on all would-be Members of Parliament
who attempt to solve the problem of the Irish
question !

Dr Joyce is an authority on Ancient Irish Music,
and has collected over a hundred of original Irish
airs which are indeed genuine Irish melodies, which
until Dr Joyce collected them had never been pub-
lished. One of these he sent me recently jotted
down from memory with the music. It is entitled,
" O, come to the Hedgerows," the words by Dr
Joyce being charmingly wedded to the old Irish air.
The words are

O come to the hedgerows with gay flowers all bright,
While the green fields are smiling beneath the sun's light;
Through the green lanes we'll wander the long happy day,
While the little birds are singing merrily

O come, come away.

O come to the seaside to hear the wild waves,
On the dark rocks we'll stand while the storm wildly raves ;
And we'll watch the white seagulls through tempest and

spray,
While the mighty ocean rages fierce and loud

O come, come away.

O come to the blue hills, the wild mountain side,
Where the green fern grows tall and the heath-bell blooms

wide,

Where the mountain stream dashes o'er mossy rocks grey.
And sings with gentle murmur all day long

O come, come away.

This song is a universal favourite among the
Irish National Schools.

The Royal Irish Academy, of which I was myself

a member, being elected on the recommendation of

208

Two Irish Historians

Sir John T. Gilbert, Professor Louis Claude Purser,
and Edwin Hamilton, has done much good work.
The Academy grants out of its funds, money to
enable scholars to pursue certain paths. In this way
the late Professor Atkinson was assisted while trans-
lating The Book of Ballymote and the Yellow Book
of Lecan. At one time it was possible for almost
any parish priest to be elected, but thanks to the
efforts of a wise committee this state of things was
altered and even so great a scholar as Professor
Mahaffy thought well to place the letters M.R.I.A.
on the title page of his " Prolegomena to Ancient
History." Matters also improved considerably
during the able administration of the Very Rev. the
Dean of St. Patrick's Cathedral, who before his
succession to the post once held by Swift, was as
the Rev. John Henry Bernard, D.D., for a short
time Secretary to the Academy. Bernard has done
some good work, and with Mahaffy was responsible
for a volume on Kant's " Critique of Pure Reason."

209

CHAPTER XXII

" FAR-OFF THINGS "

Mr F. Moir Bussy's Book The Last Duel in the Phoenix
Park Edward Richards Purefoy Colles Chief
Justice of Sierra Leone English Ignorance regard-
ing Ireland A New Theory to solve the Irish
Problem Priests and People of Ireland Father
Healy, Parish Priest of Little Bray Healy and
Fitzpatrick Secret Service under Pitt " Throw your
Brogue after Her " '' Don't cut your Old Friends ! "

THE death of Fitzharris the cabman who drove the
Irish Invincibles to the Phoenix Park when on their
fiendish errand to commit a murder, and the publica-
tion of Mr Bussy's book incorporating some of Mr
John Mallon's memoirs, have again called attention
to the unhappy differences which existed and in part
still exist between England and Ireland.

I have no intention to plunge into matters political,
" to (fire) the blood I have no ready arts," but Mr
Bussy's recollections and his descriptions of occur-
rences he has himself witnessed, give additional proof
of how very slow a process is social development.
One would imagine that the custom of duelling was
one of those which belong to a far-away past ; but,

strange as it may seem, one of the last to appear in

210

"Far-Off Things"

the " fifteen acres " in the Phoenix Park, which was
the favourite place for duelling appointments, was
my father's cousin, Mr Edward Richards Purefoy
Colles, at one time Chief Justice of Sierra Leone.

I do not state this on my own authority, but on
that of Mr Charles Pelham Mulvany, who in 1 880 in
" Society in Dublin Thirty Years Ago," wrote :

" Among the last representatives of the duello,
was Mr Colles, a well known and much respected
member of the Bar. This gentleman, though of a
generous nature, had a sharp tongue, and would
often say things which seemed to disprove the
theory, often urged in apology for duelling, that it
tends to check the disposition to hurt the feelings
of those we mix with. Thus in a dispute at the
Dublin Society Council with a most respectable
clergyman, who happened to be chaplain to the Lock
Hospital, Mr Colles said, ' I will not be put down
by you who live on the wages of the filthiest vice ! '
On another occasion Mr Colles actually challenged
a Dublin tradesman, a tenant of his, with whom he
had a dispute as to rent. Mr Colles, a most punctual
and orderly man, was first on the ground. ' Sir,' said
he, when his tardy opponent appeared, ' You have
neither the honour of a gentleman, nor the punctu-
ality of a tradesman ! ' For the later years of his life
this gentleman led a most peaceable existence. As
Librarian of the Royal Dublin Society, he was
especially noted for his kindness to the young men
who frequented that library as students."

Constitutional progress being, in the British Isles,

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In Castle and Court House

largely, if not wholly dependent on social develop-
ment, it is not strange that the progress towards an
entente cordiale between England and Ireland has
been tardy. Great ignorance with regard to Ireland
exists in England to-day. What was that ignorance
fifty years ago when the means of inter-communi-
cation between the two countries did not include one-
tenth of the facilities we enjoy to-day?

What the ignorance of the average Englishman
with regard to Ireland was in those days may be
gathered from these humorous verses, written
evidently by a believer in Home Rule.

Before I came across the sea

To this delightful place,
I thought the native Irish were

A funny sort of race.
I thought they bore shillelagh-sprigs,

And that they always said
'* Ochone, acushla, tare-an-ouns,

Begorrah! " and " Bedad! "

I thought their noses all turned up,

Just like a crooked pin;
I thought their mouths six inches wide

And always on the grin;
I thought their heads were made of stuff

As hard as any nails;
I half-suspected that they were

Possessed of little tails.

But when I came unto the land

Of which I heard so much,
I found that the inhabitants

Were not entirely such.
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"Far-Off Things'

I found their features were not all

Exactly like baboons';
I found that some wore billycocks,

And some had pantaloons.

It seems that praties in their skins

Are not their only food,
And that they have a house or two

Which is not built of mud.
In fact, they're not all brutes or fools,

And I suspect that when
They rule themselves they'll be as good,

Almost, as Englishmen!

A propos of the Irish ruling themselves, one of
the best theories I ever heard propounded to solve
the Irish question, I heard from a Mr Cavanagh.
The country is, as is well known, very largely Roman
Catholic. The Priesthood of Ireland are not noted
for their activity and the people follow suit.
The Irish are not over industrious. Mr
Cavanagh's idea was that the problem should be
attacked through the country's religion. The
authority of Rome should be secured and an
exchange of the priests of Ireland for the priests of
the United States be effected.

The priest from U.S.A. would introduce fresh
ideas to his flock. One of these would be the Gospel
of Work, a gospel which if energetically preached
would in time lead to the regeneration of all Ireland,
especially of the South and West, while the priest-
hood of Ireland, instead of dry-rotting in Ireland
would learn to move with the times, surrounded as
they would be by the bustling people of America.
Such is Mr Cavanagh's proposal which I recommend

to Mr Birrell.

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In Castle and Court House

To learn how extraordinary is the ignorance on
matters theological which exist in Ireland, one has
only to turn to the pages of Mr McCarthy, whose
" Five Years in Ireland," " Priests and People," and
other books prove clearly that the belief in fairies
and demons and other supernatural agencies exist
among the ignorant peasants of the West as strongly
to-day as in the dark ages. Mr McCarthy quoted
the case of the peasants in the West who put their
sister sitting on the fire to drive the devil out of her.

But ignorance of this kind does not exist among
the peasantry only. A son of the late Sir Dominick
Corrigan, the great surgeon, was a captain in the
Army during the first Kaffir War. Lady Corrigan
was much distressed on learning that several dusky
warriors were killed by her son, and in her zeal for
the departed, she wished to pay for masses for the
souls of the Kaffirs, who had, the good lady believed,
gone to Purgatory. Of course, masses for these
heathen were refused, but a ballad immortalised her
action in the following terms

Oh, pray for them poor haythen Kaffirs ! How quare !
The nagurs they knew not the Captain was there;
Oh, pray to the Vargin to pardon the guilt
Of the sowls of the Kaffirs young Corrigan kilt!

Like the Cats of Kilkenny, those pretty pusheens,
Sure the Captain he cut them to small smithereens.
Sure his sword it was all dripping red to the hilt
iWith the blood of the Kaffirs brave Corrigan kilt !

Musha ! dear dirty Dublin grew sad at the tale,
And the boys they were silent that shouted "Repale!"

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"Far-Oft Things"

And with people the churches and chapels were filt
That prayed for them Kaffirs brave Corrigan kilt.

The belief in Purgatory was never more humor-
ously commented on than by Father Healy, Parish
Priest of Little Bray. Some young fellows seeing a
priest in the railway carriage, declared loudly their
disbelief in the doctrine. Father Healy said nothing
until his station was reached, when on getting out
of the carriage and having shut the door, he looking
in at the window, remarked, " Well, boys, I'm sorry
for ye, for if ye don't believe in Purgatory, ye may
go to Hell!"

Father Healy's Life was written by the late Mr
Fitzpatrick, author of " Secret Service under Pitt."
Once when I was walking with Sir Charles Cameron,
we met Father Healy. Sir Charles asked the genial
priest to dine with him. " No, Sir Charles, thank
ye," said Father Healy. Cameron pressed him to
come and finally demanded his reason for refusing.
; ' To tell you the truth, Sir Charles," responded the
witty priest, " I'm afraid that you've asked Fitz-
patrick, and he's bound to write my life some day,
and I don't want to meet him, God forgive me."
Healy's surmise was correct ; his life was written by
Fitzpatrick.

Two stories of Healy which, I believe, have not
been chronicled in Fitzpatrick's Life, are as follows
At a wedding the bride was given away by Lord
Morris, familiarly known as Peter the Packer.
Morris prided himself on his Irish accent, and at the
wedding breakfast, addressing the bride, said, " And

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In Castle and Court House

now, my dear, having given ye away, shure I can
do no more for ye." " Oh, yes, you can, my Lord,"
said Father Healy, " you can throw your brogue
after her."

The other story is that Healy, when the guest of
a wealthy but illiterate Baronet, remarked on the
excellence of his library. " Ah, yes," said his
pompous and ignorant host, " my old friends, Father
Healy, my old friends." " I'm glad to see," said
Healy, examining a book of which the pages showed
utter ignorance of the paper-knife, " I'm glad to see
you don't cut your old friends."

216

CHAPTER XXIII

ANOTHER DUBLIN HUMORIST J. M. LOWRY

Edwin Hamilton not the only Dublin Humorist James
Moody Lowry His " The Keys ' At Home ' " " A
Lay of Kilcock " A Parody of Tennyson " Jack
Spratt "A Parody of Macaulay " The Battle at the
Asses' Bridge " " Spasmodeus in Swinburnia " A
Bogus Review A Story of Cremation Mr Edward
Terry.

EDWIN HAMILTON is not the only Dublin Humorist
as I think my readers will admit when they have read
some of the specimens of the verse which I am
privileged to reproduce in this chapter.

James Moody Lowry is the author of a very
amusing booklet, entitled " The Keys' ' At Home/ '
It is a Christmas fantasy and a very quaint one it
is. The Keys of the household are supposed to be
" At Home " on Christmas night, and the party
consists of an orange, a mouse, a much mutilated
roast duck, a sunflower, and a boiled lobster, as well
as several members of the Key family, including a
watch-key and two cross-keys.

The conversation recorded is full of innocent fun,

with such remarks by members of the Key family

217

In Castle and Court House

as that the French members were known as Mon
Key and the Spanish as Don Key!

The little volume was published at Ye Leaden-
hall Press, and quickly ran out of print, but was
reprinted in Dublin more than once, and the lyrics
for which it was eagerly sought have been issued,
with additions, in one volume, entitled, " A Lay of
Kilcock with Other Lays and Relays," by Messrs
Hodges, Figgis & Co. Here is a parody of the
Tennysonian metre having for its subject the famous
Jack Spratt of Nursery Rhyme

Within the limits of well-ordered law

They lived, this trusty squire and eke his spouse,

No discord marked the genial dinner hour,

Where union rooted in disunion stood,

And tastes divergent served the end in view,

What he would not, she would, what she not, he;

So in all courtesy the meal progressed,

And soon the viands wholly passed from sight.

One of the most notable parodies by Mr Lowry is
his rendering of Macaulay's well-known poem, as
may be judged from the following lines, entitled

THE BATTLE AT THE ASSES' BRIDGE.

Triangle Equilateral

By Algebra he swore
That his good friend Isosceles

Should suffer wrong no more.
By Algebra he swore it,

And named a fighting-day,
And bade his Angles hurry forth
East and West, and South and North

To summon to the fray.
218

Another Dublin Humorist

East and West and North and South

The Angles hurry fast,
And Problem old and Theorem

Have heard the trumpet-blast.
Shame on the Point that hath no parts,

The circle that would quake,
When Equilateral has sworn

The Asses' Bridge to takel

And now they are assembled,

The tale of fighting men;
The Decimals in hundreds are,

The Units one to ten.
Equations all quadratical,

Drawn out in long array;
Oh, proud was Equilateral

Upon the fighting-day.

But on the Bridge of Asses

Was tumult and affright,
For all the lines below the base

Were stricken at the sight.
They held a council standing

Upon the narrow ridge;
Hard lines, I wis, in times like this

'Twould take to save the Bridge.

Then out spake gallant Alpha,

On the Apex full in view,
" A Dog," they say, shall have his day,

A Bridge shall have it, too;
And how can man die better,

When things come to this pass,
Than fighting as first letter

In the sacred name of ASS ?

" Know then, false Equilateral,
No Bridge thou'lt take to-day;

I, with two more to help me,
Will keep ye all at bay.
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In Castle and Court House

In these five lines a thousand
May well be stopped by three ;

Now who will stand, on either hand,
And keep the Bridge with me? "

Then out spake gallant Beta

(Of Grecian blood was he),
" Lo! I will stand on thy right hand,

And keep the Bridge with thee."
And spake a stout Centurion,

A Roman, surnamed C,
" I will abide on thy left side,

And keep the Bridge with thee."

The three stood calm and silent,

And watched the foeman's line,
As from its right stepped out to fight

Theta's well-known Co-sine
And Vector the Quaternion

Vector, whose fourfold power
Had puzzled many a weary head,
And kept it aching out of bed

Long past the midnight hour.

C went at once for Vector,

And with a deadly blow
Of his good blade he quickly laid
The great Quaternion low:
For in that hour had Vector's power

Been risen to the tenth.
Little cared C, I ween, for he

Had smote him to the Nth.

Next Beta marked how Theta

Advanced against his line,
So with his trusty tangent he

Bisected the Co-sine.
" Lie there," he cried, " Fell tyrant!
220

Another Dublin Humorist

No longer shalt thou mark
How Girton's gold-haired graduates sigh,
iWith vain endeavours, to descry
The variable length of Pi

In thine accursed Arc."

Then X, on his Equation,

Advanced, and all were mute,
For in his hand he waved his brand

A knotty old cube root.
Thrice round his head he waved it,

And then the weapon sprung
Like bolt from bow a mighty blow

On Alpha's crest it rung.

He reeled, and first on Beta

Leaned for a breathing-space,
Then dashed his Co-efficient

In the Equation's face,
And loud he cried, " No more thy pride

My inmost soul shall vex ";
Then with a stroke, 'twould cleave an oak,

Eliminated X.

They gave him out of Euclid

Ten cuts so erudite,
Not thrice ten Senior Wranglers

Could solve 'twixt day and night;
They gave a square (it still is there),

And every dunce derides,
With twice the double ratio

Of its homologous sides.

And on the square they raised him,

A vast triangle high,
His name is on the Apex

(To witness if I lie)
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In Castle and Court House

And underneath is written,

In letters all of brass,
How well brave Alpha held the Bridge

That's sacred to the ASS.

Like Edwin Hamilton in "Ariadne," Lowry has
parodied Swinburne, but the parody is by no means
as ambitious as was that by Hamilton. The parody
is entitled " Spasmodeus in Swinburnia," the argu-
ment being as follows

" Gorgonzola, a beautiful damsel betrothed to
Spasmodeus, having rejected the overtures of Mars,
is turned by him into a cheese. In this form she is
presented to Spasmodeus, who unconsciously
devours her. The father of Gorgonzola, Gripeus,
and her mother, Kolera, having sought her in vain,
consult the Delphic Oracle, who reveals to them her
fate, and commands them to punish Spasmodeus.
They accordingly inflict on him divers torments.
Spasmodeus implores the aid of ^Esculapius, who,
with the assistance of Mercury, overcomes Gripeus
and Kolera. In the struggle the teeth of Spasmodeus
become loosened, and in the act of thanking
^Esculapius he swallows the whole set, and is
choked to death."

Here is Lowry 's parody of the famous chorus
Before the beginning of lays

There came to the making of rhyme,
Dust and delicious days,

Dew on the dawn of time,
Crying, and sighing, and laughter,
Weeping, and loathing, and love,
With little before or after,
And less beneath and above.
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Another Dublin Humorist

And the poet takes in hand

Kisses, and foam, and tears,
And sobbings, and slides of sand,

Under the feet of the years;
He laughs while he writes in derision

Thoughts that he cannot think
His life is a sort of vision

Betwixt a drink, and a drink.

Lowry's muse is best known in connection with
such original work as his " Lay of Kilcock," and
' The Last of the Leprachauns." He has also
written some prose including a delightful little book
entitled " A Doll's Garden Party," and " The Book
of Jousts." His popularity in Dublin was once
proved in a curious way. I used at the time to
write about four columns of reviews in the Wednesday
issue of The Dublin Evening Mail. As a practical
joke I solemnly reviewed the non-existent
" Collected Works of James Lowry, B.L., in two
Volumes," mentioning incidentally such purely
apochryphal poems as :< The Lay of the Last
Bantam." The result was marvellous, for the book-
sellers of Dublin were deluged with orders for the
book ! Lowry generously forgave me, though his life
must have been made miserable by references to
the review, and requests for copies of the unpublished
book. He once told me a long and elaborate story
about a man who in the early days of cremation
took no casquet for the remains of the deceased, and
had to use an empty cigar box, which he placed
in the hat rack in the railway carriage on his return

from Woking. Feeling done up he took advantage

223

In Castle and Court House

of a stoppage and ran into the refreshment room
for a drink only to find that a thief, deeming the con-
tents of the box to be cigars, had disappeared with
it.

Lowry did not tell me he had used this story
for a chapter in a novel he wrote, and in my ignorance
I anticipated him! Mr Lowry is, like his friend Mr
Edward Terry, an enthusiastic Mason, and holds the
same position in the Grand Lodge of Ireland that
Mr W. S. Penley, another of his friends, holds in
the Grand Lodge of England.

224

m Z

~ O

c t,
5 O

< s

O
Ml

Z E

H "a.

CHAPTER XXIV

SOME AMERICAN MEN OF LETTERS

James Russell Lowell and John Pentland Mahaffy Canon
Ainger George Pellew of New York His Visit to
Ireland " The Decay of Modern Preaching "
Pulpit Absurdities Edgar Fawcett Thomas
Sergeant Perry Lilian Cabot Perry John Fiske
Poetic Vein v. Varicaux Vein! Sarah B. Piatt
John James Piatt His Poems praised by Lowell and
Longfellow.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, we are told on the authority
of Canon Ainger, said as he got into his hansom, in
reference to Professor Mahaffy, from whom he had
just parted, " that is one of the wittiest men I have
ever met, and I have met many witty men in my life-
time." Ainger, one of the most genial of hosts, who
had seen his guest as far as he could, came back
and delightedly told Mahaffy of this dictum of the
author of " The Biglow Papers."

" Ah, poor fellow," said Mahaffy, " Lowell, I see,
never met an Irishman before ! "

I think it is this appreciation of whatever there
is of Irish in me, that has led to the many and warm

friendships I have had the happiness to experience in

225 P

In Castle and Court House

meeting Americans. I delight in American methods
I revel in their intellectual and physical activity, and
I even rejoice in their accent, for have I not a horrible
one of my own!

One of the most delightful American men of
letters I ever met, I have already mentioned, George
Pellew. He visited Ireland in 1887, when I met
him as already stated, at Whitehall, Clondalkin, the
residence at that time of Katharine Tynan. He was
then engaged in compiling notes for his book on
Ireland, a book to which I contributed by giving
Pellew introductions to my cousin, Mr Richard
Colles, J.P., who appeared in its pages as " A Kil-
kenny Manufacturer," and to Mr E. B. Ivatts, at
that time Goods Manager of the Midland Great
Western Railway. He also received letters of intro-
duction from W. E. H. Lecky; the Marquis of
Sligo ; Lady O'Hagan ; Mrs Penrose Fitzgerald ;
Sir Louis Mallet ; Sir James Caird, and Sir George
Young, to representative Unionists, and to represen-
tative Nationalists from the Hon. W. R. Grace of
New York, John E. Ellis, M.P., Mrs Alice Stopford
Green, widow of J. R. Green the historian, A. P.
Graves and Charles E. Mallet of London. Thus he
was enabled to hear both sides of the question, and
certainly his book betrays no personal bias what-
ever, but rather the cool, critical conclusions of
the true lawyer. He was a member of the Suffolk
Bar, Massachusetts. The book ran into three or
four editions.

Pellew was a fellow of infinite jest. I had one or

226

Some American Men of Letters

two postcards from him, while in Ireland, one of them
commencing

" ' An infant crying in the night,
An infant crying for the light '

of your countenance is at the Imperial Hotel," etc.

At the Imperial I found him one afternoon,
and as we discussed :< The Love Sonnets of
Proteus " and the " Wanderings of Oisin," for both
of which he expressed great admiration, I noticed
Mahaffy pass by. " There," said I, " goes the Decay
of Modern Preaching," referring thereby to Professor
Mahaffy's latest book. Pellew could not pro-
nounce the letter " R," and his speech was the most
un-American in accent I ever heard, being soft and
liquid in tone. He replied : " Pweaching is a quaint
thing. I heard a parson in the west pweach. He
got into a high pulpit and this is something like what
he said : ' Satan, my bwethwen, would be wewy glad
to-mowwow if Michael or Gabwiel were to come to
him and say God will forgive you if you shed one
little tear and Satan, my bwethwen, would weep,
and his tears would become a little twickling will, and
that will would become a wivver, and that wivver
would become an ocean, and the billows of that ocean
would flow up to the thwone of God, and God would
say Satan, I forgive you ! '

These absurdities are quite possible. I remember
when I came to London in 1902 hearing a preacher
in St. Clements Dane say the following bit of bathos
from the pulpit. He was holding forth on the

miraculous draught of fishes. First he told how

227

In Castle and Court House

Christ said " Cast in on the right side of the boat,"
and then he asked his congregation " Why, my
brethren, did our Lord say ' Cast in on the right side
of the boat ' ? " Of course a discreet silence followed
this important query, which the preaching-man, to
use Browning's phrase (a phrase which students of
Browning will remember is followed by the words,
" intense stupidity "), repeated. Again solemn silence,
followed by a triumphant thump on the pulpit cushion
and the announcement, as if clenching the argument,
" Because, my brethren, it was the right side of the
boat!"

George Pellew's full name was William Henry
Edward George Pellew. He was the eldest son
of Henry E. Pellew of Katonah, New York, who is
a cousin of Viscount Exmouth, a title bestowed on
Admiral Pellew for his successful attack on the Bey
of Algiers in 1816. Walter Savage Landor in his
" Dry Sticks Fagotted " included a poem in which
are associated the names Blake, Collingwood, and
Pellew. George Pellew's great-grand-uncle was
Henry Addington, Viscount Sidmouth, at one time
Prime Minister of England. On his maternal side
he was no less distinguished, his great grandfather
being John Jay, Chief Justice of the United States,
of whom he wrote the life as a contribution to the
" American Statesmen " series.

Pellew was born in 1859, he graduated at Harvard
in 1880, and three years later took his degree at the
Harvard Law School, and was admitted to

the Suffolk Bar, being admitted five years later to the

228

Some American Men of Letters

New York Bar. When in College he was Editor
of the " Advocate," and wrote the Pudding Poem
and his class ode. The Pudding Club Poem con-
tained some memorable lines, notably the following
which I have preserved in my memory

" Full of infinite suggestions,
In the mind that ever questions,
For a nobler faith inspires it
When the questioning is done."

When, after extensive wanderings through Ireland,
he returned to America, Pellew wrote frequently to
me. His letters were chiefly about literature and
to him I owe any knowledge I possess of Thomas
Sergeant Perry, Edgar Saltus, Edgar Fawcett,
Richard Hovey, and other American writers. His
own contribution to criticism was a monograph on
Jane Austen. He also wrote an able pamphlet on
" Woman and the Commonwealth, or a Question of
Expediency." A volume of his poems with an
introduction by W. D. Howells was published after
his death, which took place very suddenly in 1892,
and was due to an accident. Thus I lost a friend
who to this day is constantly in my thoughts, and
for whom my regret can never die.

In one of Pellew's letters to me he quoted the
following verses by Edgar Fawcett, entitled, " Dei
Gratia "

The height of his dead father's throne he gained,
With servile courtiers cringing at his nod;

A shallow and beardless boy thenceforth he reigned,
By the grace of God.

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In Castle and Court House

And oft, when following some rash whim of rule,

O'er laws and liberties he rode rough-shod,
And proved a reprobate no less than fool,

By the grace of God.
For years the crown did he thus coarsely keep,

Wearing its grandeur like a dolt or clod,
Then died one even in a drunken sleep,

By the grace of God.

Later I got some poems from Fawcett, and bought,
when in Germany, at Leipsig Railway Station some
of his novels in the Tauchnitz edition. They did
not strike me as being very forcible.

Another American, a man of letters with whom
I have had the pleasure of a long correspondence, is
Mr Thomas Sergeant Perry, author of " From Opitz
to Lessing : A Study in Neo-Classicism " ; ' The
Evolution of the Snob " ; " English Literature in
the Eighteenth Century " ; and " A History of Greek
Literature." Mr Perry lately sent me his monograph
on John Fiske.

A propos of John Fiske, I met at Professor
Dowden's in Dublin a namesake, Mr John Fiske,
who wrote " The Dog in British Poetry," published
by my friend the late Alfred Nult, whose tragic
death in Paris when attempting to save his son from
drowning, created a serious gap in the ranks of
Celtic scholars.

To return to Mr Perry, we have in him a great
grandson of Benjamin Franklin. He is a great
believer in realism in literature, and in the application
of scientific methods in criticism. He was, until

lately, Professor of English literature in Tokio

230

Some American Men of Letters

University. Latterly he has taken to the study of
Russian, and delights in reading Gogol, Dostoieffsky,
Lermentoff, and Tolstoy, in that difficult language.
His wife, Lilian Cabot Perry, is the author of " The
Heart of the Weed," which I have already quoted,
and of a charming verse translation of the
Greek Anthology, published under the title of " From
the Garden of Hellas." The late William Sharp,
no mean judge of poetry, included the following
sonnet by Mrs Perry in his collection of " American
Sonnets "

To ONE DESPONDENT

Sometimes you doubt my love, and sad tears rise
To eyes like shady pools, grown dark and clear
With wistful questioning if I hold you dear,

And thus my answering smile to you replies.

We breathe to live yet 'neath these summer skies,
Though we scarce feel our breathing, do not fear
That life has ceased, or long for winter, drear

To show each snowy breath that heavenward flies.

And though I laugh while others sing your praise,

If the world scorn and hold you in despite,
Then shall you more rejoice than you have grieved,
Seeing love greater far than you believed,
As first we see the eternal stars' bright rays
When creeps the dark imponderable night.

Mrs Perry, in addition to being a deft " weaver
of the sonnet," and possessed of an exquisite lyrical
gift, is also an artist of the impressionist school, and
has studied under some of the greatest masters in

Europe.

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In Castle and Court House

There are poets and poets. When living in
Dublin I illustrated one of my own jokes by using
a sketch by Du Maurier! The artist himself had
used it to illustrate the following

SHE. " But I am married now."

HE. " Too late for congratulations? "

The base use to which I put an admirable sketch
was as follows

AT A LITERARY GATHERING.

Enthusiastic Lady. " But you must admit that our

President has a poetic vein."
Indifferent Lover of Prose. " Well, if he has, it's a

varicaux vein "!

There are not many instances of poet wedded to
poetess. The Brownings are, of course, the great
example, but another instance of note is that of the
Elizabeth Barrett Browning of America, Mrs Sarah
B. Piatt, the writer of some exquisite verse, and
whose husband, Mr John James Piatt is the author
of " A Dream of Church Windows," and other poems
highly praised by J. Russell Lowell, and Longfellow.
I had the pleasure of meeting both Mr and Mrs
Piatt when the former was U.S. Consul in Dublin.
He had previously held the same position in Cork.
Here is a fine sonnet by Mr Piatt, and with it I
close this chapter

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

Stern be the pilot in the dreadful hour
When a great nation, like a ship at sea
With the wrath breakers whitening at her lee,

Feels her last shudder if her Helmsman cower;

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Some American Men of Letters

A godlike manhood be his mighty dower !

Such and so gifted, Lincoln, mayst thou be,

With thy high wisdom's low simplicity
And awful tenderness of voted power.
For our hot records then thy name shall stand

On Time's calm ledger out of passionate days
With the pure debt of gratitude begun,

And only paid in never-ending praise
One of the many of a mighty Land,

Made by God's providence the Anointed One.

233

CHAPTER XXV

MORE AMERICAN MEN OF LETTERS

Richard Hovey His "Launcelot and Guenevere"
His Lyrics A Presentation Volume Arthur
McMorrough Kavanagh John Burroughs His
Prose Poems on Nature Jonathan Heard, Jr.
Hermann Schaffeur Lady Cooke Edgar Fawcett
Fred Lake W. B. Yeats and A. C. Swinburne at
fault! Paul Fleury Mottelay His Translations.

ONE of the ablest and most promising of young
American poets was the late Richard Hovey who,
alas! died early. In the words of William Watson
relative to the early death of Keats

" The Gods, alas! gave him their fatal love."

It is to Thomas Sergeant Perry I owe my friend-
ship for Richard Hovey, who many years ago sent
me his beautiful elegy on the death of Thomas W.
Parsons, entitled " Seaward," which is one of the
very finest threnodies in the language. The poem
is, unfortunately, out of print.

Hovey next sent me his " Launcelot and
Guenevere," a poem in dramas, the first portion of
which was published in one volume, entitled " The
Marriage of Guenevere," followed by four other
volumes, of which the subjects are " The Quest of
Merlin : A Masque " ; " The Birth of Galahad : A

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More American Men of Letters

Romantic Drama " ; " Taliesin : A Masque " ; and
a posthumous volume " The Holy Graal and Other
Fragments," edited with Introduction and Notes by
Mrs Richard Hovey, and a Preface by Bliss Carman.

The difference between Hovey's conception of
Guenevere and those of his predecessors in song, is
shown by Mrs Hovey ; she says : " Our time has
given us three Gueneveres: the Guenevere of
Tennyson, who sinned and came to repentance and
remorse ; the Guenevere of Morris, who appeals to
the tenderness of the human heart, who explains and
asks human sympathies; and the Guenevere of
Hovey, who only loves, who never sins, who never
repents. The truly tragic Guenevere is the one
Richard Hovey chose for the Poem in Dramas a
woman who typifies in her sorrows womanhood at
the point in civilisation where the might of a system
presses heaviest upon woman; and especially on
the type of woman furthest developed in emotional
and intellectual power. The broadest physical and
intellectual base is the preparation for the highest
spiritual flight into the realms of love, the miracle
love that involves those wonder realms in which it
may be hoped Galahads may be born."

The lyrics which this beautiful poem in dramas
contains can best be judged by the following:

You remind me, sweeting,

Of the glow,

Warm and pure and fleeting
Blush of apple-blossoms
On cloud bosoms,

When the sun is low.
235

In Castle and Court House

Like a golden apple

'Mid the far

Topmost leaves that dapple
Stretch of summer blue
There are you,

Sky-set like a star.

Fearful lest I bruise you,

How should I

Dare to reach you, choose you,
Stain you with my touch ?
It is much

That you star the sky.

Why shojuld I be climbing,

So to seize

All that sets me rhyming
In my hand enfold
All the gold

Of Hesperides?

I would not enfold you

If I might;

I would just behold you,
Sigh, and turn away,
While the day

Darkens into night.

Hovey frequently wrote to me, delightful letters,
and sent me amongst other books, a copy of " Songs
from Vagabondia," written by him in conjunction
with another true poet, Bliss Carman. This little
book, published by Mr John Lane of The Bodley
Head, was inscribed

" To Ramsay Colles, from Richard Hovey."

" London, 2nd November, 1894."
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More American Men of Letters
and a quotation from one of his poems

Here's a health to thee, Colles,

And here's a health to me ;
And here's to all the pretty girls

From Denver to the sea!

Readers of Dr Joyce's " History of Ireland," a
fascinating book, by the way, will remember the
story of the King of Leinster, McMurrough
Kavanagh, from whom the late Arthur Kavanagh
of Carlow, for some time M.P. claimed descent.
Kavanagh was a man of genius. Nature had cruelly
deprived him of both arms and legs, but he
nevertheless, followed the hounds, and wrote a capital
clear hand as more than one of his letters to me
proved. Here are Hovey's lines on the kindly, and
let me add, kingly spirit of McMorrough Kavanagh,
whose life story has been published, and is well worth
reading if only as a proof of how mind can triumph
over matter.

A stone jug and a pewter mug,

And a table set for three !
A jug and a mug at every place,

And a biscuit or two with Brie !
Three stone jugs of Cruiskeen Lawn,

And a cheese like crusted foam !
The Kavanagh receives to-night!

McMorrough is at home!

Throw ope the window to the stars

And let the warm night in!
Who knows what revelry in Mars
May rhyme with rouse akin?
237

Fill up and drain the loving-cup,

And leave no drop to waste!
The moon looks in to see what's up

Begad, she'd like a taste !

What odds if Leinster's kingly roll

Be now an idle thing?
The world is his.who takes his toll,

A vagrant or a king.
What though the crown be melted down,

And the heir a gipsy roam ?
The Kavanagh receives to-night !

McMurrough is at home !

We three and the barley-bree!

And the moonlight on the floor!
Who were a man to do with less ?

What emperor has more ?
Three stone jugs of Cruiskeen Lawn,

And three stout hearts to drain,
A slanter to the truth in the heart of youth,

And the joy of the love of men.

Many a pleasant letter was interchanged and many
a quip and jest, for I sent Hovey impromptus on
postcards, of which I inflict but one on my indulgent
reader

If you were the King of Diamonds
And I were the Knave of Clubs,
We'd have many convivial rubs,
And knocking about in pubs.,
But I'm hanged if I'd stand any snubs
If you were the King of Diamonds
And I were the Knave of Clubs.

Hovey, genial soul, wrote " this clamours to be

.finished," and added much more to the same effect,

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More American Men of Letters

sending me at the same time a walking-stick
surrounded by leathern thongs interlaced. I
acknowledged the gift, sending him the follow-
ing

If you were the top o' the morning,

And I were the dead o' night,
Together we'd study the weather,
And always be in high feather
We'd sing, " Oh, there's nothing like leather "
If you were the top o' the morning,

And I were the dead 'o night !

Hovey wrote to me saying he was about to be
married, and I was, therefore, not surprised when
I did not hear from him for some time. I knew he
was wandering about and kept silence for at least
twelve months or more. Then I wrote to him, care
of Mr John Lane, his publisher. My letter was
returned to me unopened, and bore on the envelope
the single and significant word " Dead."

Other American men of letters with whom I cor-
responded were John Burroughs, whose Nature
studies are a source of perpetual delight ; " Birds
and Poets " ; " Winter Sunshine " ; " Wake Robin " ;
and a " Study of Walt Whitman," which is one of
the best books on the Good Gray Poet ever pub-
lished; and Jonathan Heard, Jr., who under the
title of "The Odd Number," translated thirteen
short stories from Guy de Maupassant. Quite
recently I met Herman Schaffeur at an " At Home "
given by Lady Cooke (Tenessee ClafBin) at the

Lyceum Club in Piccadilly. This young poet hails

239

In Castle and Court House

from San Francisco. He drew me on the subject
of Tennyson, Browning, Arnold, Rossetti, and
others, my contemporaries, and listened with evident
interest until I rose to depart, when he exclaimed,
as he held my hand, " I've had a splendid afternoon T
I seem to have been listening to a voice from the
Past ! " I bear no ill-will to this young man. His
voice, when it becomes one of the past, will, I feel
sure, be more potent than mine could possibly be,
but as Oliver Wendell Holmes remarked, " How
we love the man who is the first in public to refer
to us as * the venerable ' so-and-so ! "

Returning for a moment to Edgar Fawcett, we all
know Browning's " Flower Fancies " ; I used to
think, and indeed think now, that Fawcett's
" conceit " about the toad among the lilies was quaint
and clever. He likens the toad squat among the

lilies to

Thick-lipped slaves of ebon skin
Who guard the drowsy ladies in
The dim seraglios.

A propos of Browning. He declared on one
occasion, " I only met one poet in my life." My
own experience has been that poets are as plentiful
as potatoes.

Few men in their hours of expansion I don't
mean when they are suffering from swelled head
will deny that they have at one time or another
indulged in verse making. One such I met who in
broad daylight announced to me that he claimed to

be a poet! I was at the moment, in the expressive

240

More American Men of Letters

words of Mr George Graves " pirouetting towards
the pewter," and having on the same authority
" dipped my beak in the foaming fourpenny," I
talked somewhat audibly, I fancy, to my companion
about one Fred Lake a descendant of Sir
Launcelot du Lake, or as I fear I somewhat
flippantly described him, " Guenevere's Mash." Judge
my astonishment when there arose at my elbow a
man such as I deem to be a familiar figure on a race-
course (I never was on one in my life). He turned
to me and said, " I'm a pote, guvernor."

I said, " I'm sorry to hear it."

He said, " This is the sort of stuff I write

' You should always keep yer hosses on the go,
You should always keep yer hosses on the go;

The sure and steady pace,

It's that as wins the race;
You should always keep yer hosses on the go! ' "

My companion maintained that this was much
better and had certainly more sense than some of
Yeats or Swinburne. " Yeats," he said, " wrote

' She brings in the dishes and she lays them in a row;
With her to an isle in the water I would go.' '

" Now," said he, " why did she lay the dishes in
a row instead of one on top of another? Simply
because the poet must find a rhyme to ' go.' And
where on earth," he added, " should an isle be but

in the water ? " I murmured something about Shorts

241 Q

In Castle and Court House

being on an island in the Strand, but he treated
the remark with the contempt it deserved. " Then,"
said he, " take Swinburne's

Before the beginning of years
There came to the making of man

Time with a gift of tears,
Grief with a glass that ran.

And the great gods took in hand

Fire and the falling of tears,
And a measure of sliding sand

From under the feet of the years."

" How on earth can anyone ' before the beginning
of years ' ' take a measure of sliding sand ' or any-
thing else from under their feet ? "

This conundrum I was unable to solve!

I will include in this chapter a verse of my
own. Every student of English literature knows
Lander's divine lines on Lady Godiva, written when
he was a very young man

In every hour, in every mood,
O Lady, it is sweet and good

To bathe the soul in prayer;
And, at the close of such a day,
When we have ceased to bless and pray,

To dream of thy long hair.

Hair was a favourite subject with Landor. He
would have agreed with Pope that

Beauty draws us with a single Hair.
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More American Men of Letters

But we must first catch our hair! Landor wrote
" on seeing a hair of Lucretia Borgia "

Borgia, thou once wert almost too august
And high for adoration; now thou'rt dust.
All that remains of thee these plaits unfold
Calm hair, meandering in pellucid gold.

Like the tortoise, which having no hair of its
own has by the irony of Fate its shell utilised to make
combs, I take a great interest in human hair and
agree with St. Paul on this particular subject if on
no other, when therefore I was asked by a lady at
a gathering of poets, if I, too, were a poet, I replied,
" yes." She then asked " Can you write a poem
about me ? " " Certainly," I replied, and scribbled
on the back of the menu

Alas, she had a niggard heart

Who in your hair those hairpins placed;

Had I such wealth nay, do not start
I'd let it run to waist!

I must conclude this account of my American
friends by referring to my most recent acquisition
in this respect, that gifted translator Paul Fleury
Mottelay whose friendship I acquired through the
good services of R. W. Brother James Ruddock,
a gifted musician and one who is not alone a source
of music in himself but also in that of others. Mr
Mottelay's literary labours include the accepted
translation of Gilbert of Colchester's great work, and
an authoritative treatise entitled " The Bridge Blue
Book."

243

CHAPTER XXVI

EDGAR SALTUS: PUBLICIST

Wain vvright's Essays, edited by W. Carew Hazlitt
Copies sent to W. D. Howells, Oscar Wilde, and
Edgar Saltus G. P. Putnams' Sons Greening &
Co. Edgar Everston Saltus Eduard von Hartmann
Saltus the Chief Exponent of Pessimism in
America The Greatest Character in Fiction The
Inventor of Cloakrooms Alphabet Jones Saltus's
Novels His Poems William Sharp.

ONE of the American authors to whom I sent a copy
of " The Essays of Thomas Griffiths Wainwright,"
edited by W. Carew Hazlitt, was Edgar Saltus. I
have already said that my sending a copy to Oscar
Wilde led to Wilde's essay on " Pen, Palette, and
Poison," but though Mr W. D. Howells was much
impressed by the volume and wrote me a kindly
letter thanking me for it, the essays do not appear to
have made much impression on Mr Saltus.

Why Edgar Saltus as a writer is not more widely
known has been and remains a puzzle to me. Ever
since I read his " A Transaction in Hearts," which
I picked up in 1890, I have been deeply interested
in the man and his writings, and with considerable

difficulty I succeeded, thanks to the untiring efforts

244

Edgar Saltus : Publicist

of Messrs Putnams' Sons of New York, in procuring
all his published writings, including some transla-
tions from the French.

With these volumes I have now long been familiar,
and I feel sure that all who enjoy true artistic work-
manship in a story cannot fail to be interested in
them, as they can now, in many instances be pro-
cured in the excellent reprints of Messrs
Greening & Co.

Edgar Everston Saltus was born in New York
on 8th October, 1858. He is a descendant of
Admiral Cornelius Everston, who as Commander
of the Dutch Fleet, captured on gth August, 1673,
the City of New York. He was educated at
Columbia College and Heidelberg University.

Saltus started his literary career as a philosopher,
by no means a bad role for one who aims at being
a searcher of human hearts and a penetrative revealer
of their deepest secrets. His initial performance
was " The Philosophy of Disenchantment," pub-
lished in 1884, the work, no doubt, the result of his
University career at Heidelberg, and the tone of
which is, I believe, due in no small measure to
personal contact with the late Eduard von Hartmann.

The volume, which consists of some 200 pages,
octavo, presents in a simple and attractive style the
teachings of Schopenhauer, of whose career an
interesting sketch is given. Chapters are devoted
to such subjects as " The Sphinx's Riddle " ; " The
Borderlands of Happiness " ; " The Great Quietus " ;
and to such questions as " Is Life an Infliction? "

245

In Castle and Court House

To the truths enunciated by Schopenhauer as the
High Priest of Pessimism is added a summary of
the deductions of von Hartmann, to the personality
and philosophy of whom a chapter is devoted.

As it is not to Saltus the philosopher, but to
Saltus the story-teller I wish to refer, I shall merely
mention the fact that " The Philosophy of Disen-
chantment " was followed in 1 885 by a kindred work
entitled " The Anatomy of Negation," in which is
given a tableau of anti-theism from Kapila to
Leconte de Lisle. This little book in which there
is no attempt made to prove anything is a notable
contribution to the literature of pessimism, and it
ran to more than one edition.

Saltus' first work of fiction, " Mr Incoul's Mis-
adventure," was published in 1886, and was referred
to by William Sharp as full of brilliant talent. His
' The Truth about Tristrem Varick," and " Eden "
were also very remarkable novels. The latter
contained such gems as

" There is nothing more talkative than the foot of
a pretty woman " ;

" A woman who marries a second time does not
deserve to have lost her first husband," and this
beautiful simile

" Eden sat very still, surprised as February at a
violet"

In " Tristrem Varick " Edgar Saltus wrote his
most ambitious novel ; witness the following elaborate
description of the heroine, Viola Raritan

" She was dressed in a gown of canary, draped

246

Edgar Saltus : Publicist

with madeira and fluttered with lace. Her arms and
neck were bare and unjewelled. Her hair was cim-
merian, the black of basalt that knows no shade
more dark, and it was arranged in such wise that it
fell on either side of her forehead, circling a little
space above the ear, and then wound into a coil
on the neck. This arrangement was not modish,
but it was becoming the only arrangement, in fact,
that would have befitted her features which resem-
bled those of the Cleopatra unearthed by Lieutenant
Gorringe. Her eyes were not oval, but round, and
they were amber as those of leopards, the yellow of
living gold. The corners of her mouth drooped a
little, and the mouth itself was rather large than
small. When she laughed one could see her
tongue ; it was like an inner cut of water melon, and
sometimes when she was silent the point of it
caressed her under lip. Her skin was of that quality
which artificial light makes radiant, and yet of which
the real delicacy is only apparent by day. She just
lacked being tall, and in her face and about her bare
arms and neck was the perfume of health. She
moved indolently with a grace of her own. She was
not twenty, a festival of beauty in the festival of life."
In this and other passages Saltus' mannerisms
are markedly apparent, as when, for instance, he
tells us that a girl's eyes " were not black, they were
of that sultry blue which is observable in the ascension
of tobacco smoke through a sunbeam," and again
he says of the eyes of a young man that they " were
of that green-grey which is caught in an icicle held

over grass."

247

In Castle and Court House

The description of the opera in New York is so
good that I quote it as a specimen of our author's
method of making an inventory of human puppets:

" At the opera that night the aristocrats of the
New World were in full force. Among them were
men who could not alone have wedded the Adriatic,
but have dowered her as well. Venice in her greatest
splendour had never dreamed such wealth as theirs.
There was Jabez Robinson, his wife and children,
familiarly known as the Swiss Family Robinson, the
founder of their dynasty having emigrated from some
Helvetian vale. A lightning calculator might have
passed a week in the summing up of their posses-
sions. There was old Jerolomon, who, through the
manipulation of the monopolies, exhaled an odour
of Sing-Sing, the which had been so attractive to
the nostrils of an English peer that he had taken his
daughter as wife. There was Madden who con-
trolled an entire State. There was Bucholz, who
declared himself above the law, and who had erupted
in New York three decades before with the seven
deadly sins for sole capital. There was Bleecker
Bleecker, who each year gave away a Pope's ransom
to charity and pursued his debtors to the grave.
There was Dunwoodie, whose coat smelled of ben-
zine and whose signature was potent as a king's.
There was Forbush, who lunched furtively on an
apple and had given a private establishment to each
of his twelve children. There was Gwathmeys, who
had twice ruined himself for his enemies and made

a fortune for his friends. There was Attersoll, who

248

Edgar Saltus : Publicist

could have bought the White House, and whose sole
pleasures were window-gardening and the accord of
violins.

" On the grand-tier was Mrs Besalul, on whom
society had shut her door because she had omitted
to close her own. In an adjoining box was Mrs
Smithwick, the bride of a month, fairer than any
queen whose face was worth the world to kiss, and
who, the previous winter, had written a novel of such
impropriety that when it was published her mother
forbade her to read it. There was Miss Pickett, a
debutante, who possessed the disquieting ugliness of
a monkey, who had announced that there was nothing
so immoral as ennui. There was Mrs Bouvery,
who claimed connection with everyone whose name
began with Van. Mrs Hackensack, one of the few
surviving Knickerbockers. The Coenties twins,
known as Dry and Extra Mumm. And there were
others less interesting. Mrs Fender, for instance,
famous for her musicales, which no one could be
bribed to attend. . . Mrs Nevers, mailed in
diamonds ; Mrs Goodloe, mailed in pearls, and a
senator's wife in a bonnet."

Edgar Saltus' books are ail enlivened by a very
pietty wit indeed, as, for instance, when he declared,
*' Hell is supposed to be hot, but fancy it cold, and
there cannot be a pin to choose between it and
London in December." It was Saltus, I believe,
who, when asked " Who is the greatest character in
fiction ? " replied, " God." He is fond of asserting

that though there is a land where there is much joy

249

In Castle and Court House

over the sinner that repents; in this world we live
in, the joy is at his detection!

Alphabet Jones, the novelist who saunters through
several volumes, is an amusing if somewhat an adum-
brative character. One of his conundrums is " Who
invented cloakrooms ? " The reply is " Potaphar's
wife." It is Jones who makes the remark that " in
ancient days women who lapsed from virtue were
stoned," and adds, " for that matter they are still,
but the stones are from Tiffani's."

" Tristrem Varick " is the most artistic of Edgar
Saltus' novels, but " A Transaction in Hearts " is
the most powerful study of human nature he has
done so far. In this book he depicts the conflicting
emotions which run riot in the breast of the Rev.
Christopher Gonfallon, who falls in love with his
wife's sister. Sympathy with his subject may seem
strange in a professor of anatomy, but without
genuine love for his profession no man can use the
scalpel with supreme success. Saltus may be a
vivisector, but he never " murders to dissect." He
is the deft anatomist who lays bare the very source
of life while he searches for the roots of the disease,
the cure of which he would discover; but in all his
operations his actions are marked by judgment and
skill, and in the beneficial result of his labours the
whole world shares and rejoices.

The story of " A Transaction in Hearts " is simple.
When Gonfallon married Ruth, the elder daughter
of Bucholz the monopolist, her sister Claire was

but an undeveloped girl. She returns at the period

250

Edgar Saltus : Publicist

dealt with, from a European trip extending over four
years, and little by little her beauty and waywardness
infatuate the susceptible rector, her brother-in-law,
whose wife is permanently on the sick-list, a victim
to neuralgia.

The mental tortures endured by Gonfallon, the
spiritual struggles, the gradual sapping of the
foundations of his moral nature, are depicted with
marvellous skill, and though pages are devoted to the
exposition, there is not a sentence which any save
the most vacuous readers would willingly skip.

The picture of the enchantress is drawn in a few
strokes.

" She was worse than pretty. In her skin was the
hue of that white rose which has a sulphur heart.
Her features had the surety of an intaglio ; her head
was small, the brow low; in her hair, which was
short and curled, was the glisten of gold-leaf shown
to the sun. Her eyes were of porcelain blue, the
under lids retreating and shorter than the upper."

That such a physically doll-like creature should
act a heroic part appears almost incredible ; but the
novelist in relating the tale leaves no doubt in the
mind of his reader that Claire acts in a thoroughly
natural manner, and convincingly proves once more
that in the most unpromising natures lurk great
possibilities, a fact which the more superficial student
of humanity is apt to overlook. Claire compromises
herself in order to save the reputation of her father.

Saltus has written many other books some of
which have not been reprinted in England, notably

251

In Castle and Court House

a collection of short stories in which one entitled " A
Transient Guest " is worthy of Maupassant, and
" Love and Lore," a volume of delightful essays,
with interludes in verse of the excellence of which
the following may serve as an illustration

IMEROS.

My heart a haunted manor is, where Time

Has fumbled noiselessly with mouldering hands:'
At sunset ghosts troop out in sudden bands,

At noon 'tis vacant as a house of crime;

But when, unseen as sound, the night-winds climb
The higher keys with their unstilled demands,
It wakes to memories of other lands,

And thrills with echoes of enchanted rhyme.

Then, through the dreams and hopes of earlier years,
A fall of phantom footsteps on the stair
Approaches near, and ever nearer yet,
A voice rings through my life's deserted ways;
I turn to greet thee. Love. The empty air
Holds but the spectre of my own regret.

In October, 1904, I wrote an article on Saltus
in ;< The Westminster Review," in which I
expressed the hope that the popular recognition,
which is undoubtedly his due, should soon be
accorded a writer of such marked individuality and
literary ability, and this essay I sent to Mr Saltus,
who wrote me a pleasant letter in acknowledgment
signed " Yours attentively." It is pleasant to learn
that he is now frequently in London, and is a
naturalised Englishman to the extent that he is a

member of The Authors' Club.

252

Edgar Saltus : Publicist

Messrs Greening have issued a little volume
entitled " The Wit and Wisdom of Edgar Saltus,'*
by G. F. Monkshood and George Gamble, which
is a very representative collection of epigrams by
Saltus.

253

CHAPTER XXVII

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS

Ignorance of Ireland and the Irish The Irish Jarvey
Lord Annaly and the Peerage Tobacco and the
Toad White Horse Whisky" Alive with Dead
Dogs" "Same Bill-Sticker? " J. Sheridan Le
Fanu " Well, Molly, did he pop? " Greenleaf
Withers Brown Silver Hairs v. Gold A Perfectly
Beautiful Mummy Plat Deutsch.

I HAVE always maintained that if one knows all the
rest of the world but is ignorant of Ireland and the
Irish, there is then something one does not know,
whereas if one is acquainted with Ireland that fact
helps one to understand the rest of the world !

Ireland has never suffered from " that dull stagna-
tion of the soul-content." Even Walter Savage
Landor, who warmly espoused her cause, winning
thereby the gratitude of both O'Connell and Davis,
is ironical on this subject :

Ireland never was contented
Say you so? You are demented.
Ireland was contented when
All could use the sword and pen,
And when Tara rose so high
That her turrets split the sky,
And about her courts were seen
Liveried Angels robed in green,
Wearing, by Saint Patrick's bounty,
Emeralds big as half a county.
254

A Chapter of Accidents

Charles Lever and Samuel Lover were largely to
blame for the general acceptance of the Irishman
as a buffoon. This has led to Irishmen accepting
this verdict, and too often the sorry spectacle is
witnessed, of a truly intellectual representative of a
thoughtful, artistic, and imaginative race, devoting
his energies to humouring fools until he is despised
by the very fools whom he humours.

Let us hope that in the near future such wilfully
mis-drawn figures as Handy Andy and Harry
Lorriquer will no longer be accepted as faithful
portraits of the average son of Erin.

To this very desirable end the " Bogland
Sketches," and other studies by Miss Jane Barlow
will help not a little. Miss Barlow is one of the
most modest of writers and her work in prose and
verse is but too little known. A natural outcome of
the Barrie school of fiction, she is, nevertheless,
original, and her work is by no means confined to
fiction, for she has translated with marvellous force
and fidelity the " Battle of the Frogs and Mice,"
from Homer, in which task she has but one rival
George Chapman.

The Irish jarvey is responsible for many of the
erroneous ideas about Ireland, entertained by
Englishmen or Americans who have visited the
country. Seated on either side of an " outside car/'
in close proximity to the driver, the tourist very
naturally falls into conversation with him, asks
questions and seeks information, and as Jehu is loath
to be considered ignorant on any subject, he often
makes statements which are wide of the truth.

255

In Castle and Court House

But whether the information given be truthful or
not, it is always tinged with humour, of which the
following may be taken as an example:

A callow youth, having successfully qualified at
one of the great military schools in England, is sent
to Richmond Barracks, Dublin, to commence his
career as a soldier. On arriving at, say, the North
Wall, he takes an outside car and directs the driver
to the barracks.

" Richmond Barracks, all right, Captain," says the
jarvey, as he starts on a trip for which the legal fare
is sixpence, but for which a shilling is usually
tendered.

"What is the fare?" asks the "Captain."

" Well, Colonel," says the driver again, in a tone
of voice which precludes the idea of any attitude
save that of profound respect for the exalted person
he is driving, " the meanest of thim gives me half-a-
crown."

But the Irish are by no means a subservient race.
The late Professor J. W. Corbett, a member of the
Senate of T.C.D., and father of the Rev. F. St. John
Corbett, M.A., rector of St. George-in-the-East, once
told me an amusing story, which is as follows :

Dr Corbett called with Lord Annaly to see Sir
Patrick Joseph Keenan, Chief Commissioner for
National Education in Ireland. The flunkey in a
scarlet waistcoat of portly proportions on being asked
if Sir Patrick were in or not, said:

" I'll see. What name shall I say? "

256

A Chapter of Accidents

Dr Corbett replied, " Just say Lord Annaly wishes
to see him."

The hall porter disappeared upstairs, and kept the
enquirers for Sir Patrick waiting at least twenty
minutes. On his return he delivered himself as
follows :

" Sir Patrick is not in, but / see no ' Lord Annaly '
in the Peerage ! "

Travelling on one occasion from Dublin to Kil-
kenny, I was in a smoking compartment on the Great
Southern and Western Railway. The only other
person in the carriage was a gentleman who was
smoking a pipe with evident satisfaction, but which
to my olfactory nerves held tobacco of a particularly
disgusting aroma. Not having any tobacco myself
with which to overcome this truly appalling smell, I
opened the window, but as the weather was very
cold, was obliged to shut it very soon. It then struck
me that good-humoured remonstrance might prevail
and abate the nuisance, so I said in a conciliatory
tone:

" Pardon me, sir, but really your tobacco would
poison a toad."

Without moving a facial muscle the smoker
removed his pipe and replied " Evidently ! " He
then offered me with a smile one of the best cigars
I ever smoked.

On another occasion, when travelling from Dublin
to Belfast, during severe and gloomy weather, I said
to a fellow-traveller who had been, like myself,
listening to the pattering of the rain which, as my

257 R

In Castle and Court House

friend William Wilkins, the author of " Songs of
Study " says in his celebrated contribution to
" Kottabos," " fell on the pane like a pile of fetters/'

" Sir, although you are a stranger to me, would
you feel insulted if I offered you a glass of Scotch
whisky ? " pulling out, as I put my query, a bottle
of White Horse from my handbag.

Lightly tapping with his forefinger the familiar
white horse with its flowing tail, he said, with
emphasis :

" My dear sir, it would take gallons of that
whisky to insult me ! "

The drawer of the long-bow, or the tall-tale man
is not unknown in Ireland. Here is a specimen.

" Yes, sir, my friend when skating was caught by
a truant balloon, and, would you believe it, one of
his skates fell off and killed a retriever, and later the
other also fell off and killed a poodle ! "

"Is that so?" I asked.

' Yes, and if my friend had had as many feet as a
centipede and skates on each foot, the whole country-
side would have been alive with dead dogs ! "

Another strange specimen of Irish humour con-
sists of the following:

In the City and County Conservative Club in
Dublin was a member who was occasionally intoxi-
cated with something stronger than the " exuberance
of his own verbosity." He was a well-known man
and some fellow member of the club usually saw him
home on such occasions.

The night following one of these episodes, some-

258

A Chapter of Accidents

one inquired, " Did anyone see A home last

night?"

" I did," replied a recently elected member, where-
upon an old member asked:

" Did he tell you his father was a bill-sticker?"

:f Well, strange to say, he did refer to the fact."

" What of that," said another member of the
company, " the late Lord Mayor's father was also a
bill-sticker."

"Yes," added a third, "and the father of
Bartholomew Buggins, the baritone, was a bill-
sticker! "

Silence for a second, when the Hon. Secretary
asks, in mild surprise :

"Same Bill Sticker?"

This kind of humour was well displayed by Joseph
Sheridan Le Fanu, the author of " Uncle Silas."
Le Fanu as a boy was always late for family prayers.
Coming into the room one morning, late as usual,
his father cried, holding out his watch as he spoke,
"Joseph, Joseph, can this be right?" "No, sir,"
replied Joseph, " I'm sure you're fast."

My uncle, the Rev. Thomas Garde of Cloyne,
Co Cork, was fond of telling an experience of his
in the days when he was a pale young curate. He
was paying his addresses to a young lady who
resided in a rural district not far from Blarney. As
her mother did not think the curate pursued his
wooing with celerity, she, in order to bring matters to
a crisis, left the young couple alone in the drawing-
room, while she proceeded to a floor above.

259

In Castle and Court House

The curate was shy and diffident, and after some
small-talk on nothing in particular, he bade the girl
farewell, and went downstairs, unaccompanied, to
the entrance hall. Here he was engaged in putting
on his gloves, prior to making his exit, when he over-
heard the following conversation between mother and
daughter, the former speaking loudly from the upper
floor to her daughter on the lower :

"Well, Molly, did he pop?" To which the girl
replied :

"Oh, thedivilapop!"

Whereupon the mother exclaimed, " Oh, the mane
baste!"

A propos of clergymen, I used, when living in
Dublin, to delight in attending the services at the
little church in Lower Leeson Street, whenever the
Rev. F. F. Carmichael, D.D. preached the sermon.
Canon Carmichael is an eloquent preacher, but his
expressions are sometimes unconventional as, for
instance, when he, on one occasion declared that the
Patriarch Isaac was " a hen-pecked man," and on
another when from the pulpit he recommended the
congregation to take seats in the gallery of the
church, and glancing round, said in convincing tones,
" There are several very respectable people rent seats
in the gallery," whereupon being seated in the gallery
I seized the opportunity to rise and bow towards the
pulpit.

One of the many attractions of Dublin used to be
the Pantomimes written in couplets by Greenleaf

Withers Brown. Some of these couplets in which

260

A Chapter of Accidents

I used to take special delight, occur in " Cinderella/"
when the Fairy Godmother, visiting her little charge,
says

You've got a cold, my Jewel

Drink a warm bath and put your feet in gruel !

In another Pantomime, I think " The Yellow
Dwarf," the King exclaims

My plates are dished, my dishes only plated,
My very gates with bills are variegated,

and adds

My little pages have to take their leaves !

There was also a double play on words in
I am well on in days
And badly off for knights.

I had a curious experience at Killarney once.
There was a large party staying at the hotel there
one evening in early spring. I did not know any
one of the company, but after dinner there was a
concert given in the entrance hall and I found
myself discussing music with a young lady with a
face like a beautiful rose and with a wealth of pure
white hair like snow on a dish of strawberries. For
the moment I forgot that she was young and was
foolish enough to inquire if she remembered Decca
the American cantatrice.

" No," she replied, and added, " do not think I
am old because my hair is white."

Recognising the mistake I had made, I at once
apologised by saying, " I can assure you that one of
your silver hairs is worth all the gold ones in the

world!"

261

In Castle and Court House

She smiled. (" Her bright smile haunts me still.")

" That is such a pretty speech," she said, " that
I wish you would write it down for me."

I had no paper in my pocket so wrote the declara-
tion on the back of my visiting card and was rewarded
by her putting it safely into the bosom of her evening
dress.

Next morning as I repaired to the drive in front
of the hotel to mount a hired steed for a morning
ride, I found a second horse which had just been
mounted by a somewhat gloomy but handsome man.

We rode side by side in silence for some time,
when I ventured to remark:

" Allow me to introduce myself. My name is
Colles."

" Ah," he said, pulling up suddenly, " so you're

the d d scoundrel whose card I found on my

wife's dressing table when I arrived late last night."

" Calm yourself," I replied. " Surely a simple
statement of facts is not wrong ? "

" Compliments like that you paid to a married
woman are not right," he said, wrathfully. " Don't
let me catch you doing it again ! "

!C There was no compliment meant," I said.

" What ! " he exclaimed ; " No compliment ! What
do you mean ? "

" Only that I take no interest save in brunettes,"
I replied.

" Oh, you d d Irishmen ! " he shouted, as he

put his horse to a gallop, " you'd wriggle out of

anything ! "

262

A Chapter of Accidents

I let him ride ahead and ride his ill-humour off.
When he returned he invited me to breakfast, and
we have been the best of friends ever since. He is
not now averse to his wife being complimented, for
he understands how frothy my compliments are.

A few months after his last son was born, we
went in a small party to the British Museum, and
visited the Egyptian galleries. His wife was looking
radiant, and I inquired affectionately about the latest
arrival. One of the party came up, and addressing
her while he pointed to a mummy case, asked :

" Is not that a perfectly lovely mummy ? "

I replied, as I patted her shoulder, " Not in it,
my boy, with this ' perfectly lovely Mummy! '

This time, being an old friend, her husband
merely remarked, " I agree with you."

At the risk of chronicling small-beer, I may
give the following to conclude this chapter.

My friend Max Deutsch, President of the Francis
Joseph Institute for the relief of suffering Austrians
and Hungarians, is the proud possessor of two hand-
some Blenheim spaniels. These dogs are allowed
after supper to sit on chairs on either side of Mrs
Deutsch and have plates laid before them which,
when filled with their suppers are taken elsewhere
and the dogs follow.

On one occasion these intelligent creatures spent
their time in alternately gazing at the empty plates
in front of them and into their mistress' face, to
learn why their supper was delayed.

263

In Castle and Court House

" One would almost think they could speak,"
someone remarked.

" What language would they speak, if they did ? "
I inquired. " Not Dog Latin."

As no one guessed I answered my own question
"PldtDeutschl"

264

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE FAMILY OF COLLES IN IRELAND

The Colles Family in Worcester William Colles,
Secretary to Sir Henry Harrington Sir Roger
Purefoy Job Colles serves under Gustavus
Adolphus, King of Sweden Is wounded at the Battle
of Leipzic, 1631 Is presented by the King with a
Silver-handled Sword on the Field of Battle The
Fate of the Sword William Colles (1702-1770), the
Inventor of Machinery for Boring and Polishing
Marble The Marble Works in Kilkenny in 1748
Pococke's " Tour in Ireland in 1752 " Barry Colles
(1697-1785) Susan Colles and The Meredyth Family
Sir Joshua Colles Meredyth, Bt. The Cabman
Claimant to the Title Charles Colles of Maghera-
more His Funeral Entry Richard Colles of Gyah,
Bengal, India His Invention Major-General
William Ramsay The Maha-Bodhi Society.

IN a book that is frankly egotistical and cannot, of
necessity, be otherwise, some facts in connection
with the family of Colles may be of interest.

The family of Colles, of Co Worcester (i3th
Century), and other counties in England appears
to have been connected with Ireland since the year
1600, or the end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

William Colles, born in 1585, went to Ireland

with Sir Henry Harrington, Knight, Seneschal of

265

In Castle and Court House

O'Byrne's country. Sir Henry, who was a brother
of John, first Lord Harrington of Exton, had grants
of land in Counties Kildare, Wexford, and West-
meath. He returned to England, engaged his uncle,
Sir Roger Purefoy, eight Gentlemen, and twenty
yeomen, of Coleshill (or Colles-hill) and Caldecote,
Co Warwick, and Drayton Co Leicester, to follow
him and settle in Ireland.

William's son, Job Colles, went to Sweden with
Sir Frederick Hamilton, father of the first Viscount
Boyne, and served under Gustavus Adolphus, King
of Sweden. He was wounded at the battle of
Leipzic, 1631, and was presented by the King on
the field of battle with a silver-handled sword. This
sword his great-grand-nephew, William, to whom it
descended, " having a great value for the said sword
as a relic, and wishing to preserve it in some more
ostensible shape than as an unfashionable and
useless implement, had its hilt worked into a pair
of shoe buckles, with a wrought inscription in very
indifferent verse on them (for he was a poet and
wrote several tragedies), which being in a ruinous
state, his son Richard had again in London in 1812
fashioned into a snuff-box."

Of this William Colles, who was born in 1702, and
died in 1770, it has been recorded that "he was a
man of great mechanical abilities and abounding in
a variety of those eccentric schemes which mark
original genius, though success only, in the eyes of
the world can stamp them with rationality, one of

which was an attempt to make dogs weave linen by

266

U u

s *
< w

J.
J

The Family of Colles in Ireland

turning wheels ; another, the supplying the Corpora-
tion of Dublin with bored marble tubes, as pipes
for distributing water through the city, was
defeated only by a combination of pump-borers and
other mechanics, who rose in a mob and destroyed
them on their arrival. Such was the impression his
abilities made on the common people, that to this
day his feats are proverbial among them, and they
speak of him as a necromancer."

William Colles was the inventor of the machinery
used for boring and polishing marble. He first tried
a model in a small stream, and finding it succeed,
he took a perpetual lease of the marble quarry in
Kilkenny. " While he amused the populace," says
the writer of some " Statistical Observations Relative
to the County of Kilkenny, made in the years 1800
and 1801," "by various devices, such as that of a
musical instrument which played by itself, as it
floated down the stream of the river, and many
others, he applied himself to the construction of
useful machinery for different purposes ; and invented
a water-mill, and an engine for dressing flax, simple
and efficacious, but now no longer used."

William Colles applied his marble to the con-
struction of a vast variety of articles. There was in
Kilkenny a room lined with it by him, in imitation
of wainscot; and he used it instead of leaden pipes
in one or two houses. In "A Tour in Ireland, by
two Englishmen," a book published in 1748, it is
stated " near the mill are apartments called ware-
houses, where you may see such a diversity of

267

In Castle and Court House

chimney-pieces, cisterns, buffets, vases, punch-bowls,
mugs of different dimensions, frames for looking-
glasses, pictures, etc., that they would employ the
eye the longest day, and yet find something to
admire," and much to the same effect will be found
in " Pococke's Tour in Ireland in 1752," unearthed
by the diligence of the late Dr G. T. Stokes. The
English traveller observes justly, that the marble
" is full as durable, and bears as fine a polish as any
brought from Italy," and he continues, " though the
stones in the quarry sometimes weigh several ton,
yet the method the contriver has to lift them, draw
them out, and convey them to the mill, without any
other than manual operation, adds still more to the
surprise. I am informed that this ingenious
gentleman sends yearly shiploads to England, which
gives me a particular satisfaction, that they mind a
native of Ireland has outdone all they have hitherto
seen. . . I cannot hear that anyone has imitated
the machinery. It is perpetually at work, by night
as well as by day, and requires little attendance."

William Colles was an Alderman of the City of
Kilkenny of which his uncle, Barry Colles (born
1697, died 1785), was twice Mayor. St. John's
Bridge in Kilkenny, of greaty beauty, was built by
him, and some remains of fine architectural pieces
prove the universality of his genius.

Susan, the only daughter and heiress of Barry
Colles carried the Kilkenny estates to the Meredyth
family, when she married Joshua Paul Meredyth,

fourth son of Sir Richard Meredyth, 2nd Bart, of

268

The Family of Colles in Ireland

Greenhills, Co Kildare. Her son, Sir Barry Colles
Meredyth, yth Bart., succeeded to the title on the
death of his uncle, Sir Moore Meredyth, 6th Bart.,
and her grandson, Sir Joshua Colles Meredyth's
granddaughter was married to the late Sir Bernard
Burke, C.B., Ulster King-at-Arms.

The tenth Baronet in the Meredyth family was
Sir Edward Meredyth, a Military Knight of Windsor,
who died leaving no male heir, and the title was
claimed by George Augustus Jervis Meredyth of
Hobart, Tasmania, who was known as the cabman
claimant, he having in his long life played many
parts, including those of shoemaker, stoker, store-
man, policeman, and finally acted in the capacity
by which his claim to be heir to a creation of 1660,
was designated.

But to return to Job Colles ; his brother, William,
suffered in the Irish Rebellion of 1641, as a loyalist,
he escaped to Coventry, but returned in 1658 " to
repair his fortunes " to Ireland. Here in 1659 he
took a house in Skinner's Row (now Christchurch
Place), Dublin, where it appears he became a
merchant. His brother Charles Colles served as
a soldier in the Cromwellian army, and got large
grants of land in the counties of Sligo, Wexford, and
Kilkenny. He resided in Magheramore, near Sligo,
and Collesford on the Drumcliff river takes its
name from him. The Rev. Dr O'Rorke in his
" History of Sligo : Town and County " refers to
the fact that the local tradition or gossip represents

Colles as having a gallows at Collesford " for

269

In Castle and Court House

hanging the political suspects of the neighbourhood."
This tradition probably arose from the fact that
Colles was Provost Marshall of Connaught for
fourteen years, and High Sheriff of Co Sligo, 1685.

His funeral entry registered in Ulster's office, of
which I have a certified copy, is an interesting
document, and reads as follows:

Charles Colles of Magherymore in the County of
Sligo, Esqr., third sonn of William Colles of Doghill

in the King's county and of dar. of

Lyons of Phillipstowne in the King's county afore-
said. The said Charles was Justice of the peace
in the said county of Sligo in the Reigne of his late
Majestic King Charles the second of blessed
memory and of King James the second and
Provost Marshall of Connaught for fourteen years
and high Sheriffe of the said county of Sligo at the
time of his decease. He took to his first wife Ann
daughter of Anthony Strattford who was Governour
of Duncannon in Com Wexford by whome he had
issue four sons (vizt.) William eldest sonn md. to
Allice daughter of Deane Dudley Persse by whom
he had issue two sonns Peirce and Charles both died
young and five daughters (vizt.) Sarah, Ann, Dorcas,
Lettice and Mary liveing and two more died young,
Charles second sonn died young. Anthony Colles
third sonn maried to Mary dar. of Walter Johnson
of Magherimenagh in the County of Fermanagh
Esqr. by whome he had issue three sonns (vizt.)
Charles and Francis died young, and Anthony now

liveing Robert Colles fourth sonn maried unto Jane

270

The Family of Colles in Ireland

daughter of Thomas Jones of Carrigin in Com Sligo
Esqr. by whome he hath issue one daughter named
Ann. The said Charles had alsoe by his first wife
four dars. (vizt.) Dorcas eldest md. to George Crofton
Esqr. by whome she hath issue Henry, George,
Addam, Thomas and William, Mary, Ann,
Elizabeth and Hanah now liveing, Frances, Charles
and Sidney died young Sidney second dar. md. to
William Johnson by whome she hath issue William,
Arnold, George, Charles, Frances, Mary and Ann
and James that died young, Lucey 3rd daughter md.
to William Parkes by whome she hath issue one
sonn named Roger and one daughter named
Ellenor; Ismy fourth dr. unmaried and Ann and
Mary died young. The first menconed Charles
tooke to his second wife Affra dar. of ....
Stinson of . . . in the County of ... who
died sans issue. The said first menconed Charles
departed this mortall life at Phibbestowne in the
County of Dublin on Sunday the fifteenth of
November, one thousand six hundred eighty and
five and was interred the twenty fourth of the same
month in the chancell of the Parish church of
St. Michael's, Dublin. The truth of the premisses is
certified by the subscription of the said William
Colles, eldest sonn and heire of this Defunct, who
hath returned this certificate to be recorded in the
office of Sr. Richd. Carney Kt. Ulster King at
Armes this twenty seventh day of November Anno
Domini 1685.

My father, Richard Colles, was a descendant of

271

In Castle and Court House

Charles, " this Defunct." He was a Civil Engineer
in India, and invented a machine for cutting and
drying indigo. I was born on 5th October, 1862,
in the holy city of Buddha Gaya, Bengal, under the
shadow of the great Maha-Bodhi Temple. Gaya
is so sacred a place that the natives believe that, as in
Benares, one can even eat beef there and yet go to
heaven. My father died at the age of thirty-nine,
on the loth January, 1868, the anniversary of his
wedding day. He was, like his great-great-grand-
father, an inventor and mechanician, and I possess a
watch of which the hour hand was constructed by
him from a lady's hairpin, and in which he supplied
the place of a lost jewel with the head of a pin !

My connection with India was brief, but I hope to
visit it before I die. I owe such education as I
received to my mother's brother, the late William
Ramsay, a Major-General in the Madras Tenth
Native Infantry. So much interested was I in the
fact that I was born in Buddha Gaya, that in 1901
I became representative in Ireland of the Maha-
Bodhi Society.

272

CHAPTER XXIX

THE FAMILY OF COLLES IN ENGLAND

The Colleses of Worcestershire Members of Parliament,
1298-1341 William Colles, 1310 Gualterus Colles,
scriba principis, 1415 Constable of Bordeaux
Michael Colles hanged by Yorkists during Wars of
the Roses Edmund Colles of Leigh The Colles
Ghost Tombs of the Family in Leigh Church
Sydney Smith on Ancestors.

IN a fine work, published in two portly folios in 1781,
entitled " Collections for the History of Worcester-
shire," by T. Nash, there is much interesting
information given with regard to the family of Colles,
and a page is devoted to " Monuments in Leigh
Church," some of which appear in the beautiful
engravings which adorn the book and make it much
sought for by collectors; the current price being
about four pounds for the two volumes. In volume
one there is an incidental reference to Richard
Colles who was Member of Parliament in the Reign
of Edward II.

The family of Colles appears to have been settled
at Leigh, in Worcestershire, as early as the middle
of the 1 3th Century. In 1240 Peter Colles held

land in fee farm, and paid ninepence quarterly to

273 s

In Castle and Court House

the Priory of St. Mary at Worcester, on behalf of
the Lord of the Manor. In 1298 (time of Edward
I.) William Colles represented the City of Worcester
in Parliament. Richard Colles in 1302 was one of
the " Bailiffes " of the City of Worcester, and as
such did penance on the 3rd day of February in that
year, for a breach of the Cathedral sanctuary, com-
mitted by certain " viri sanguinum et dolore," who
had treacherously allured a fugitive from the church-
yard where he had taken refuge, and kept him
prisoner until he agreed to leave the kingdom.

That members of the family served their country
in the senate as well as on the field is proved by
the following table compiled from lists published by
the Camden Society and from references made in the
Registry of Worcester Priory

A.D. 1298, 26 Edward I., William Colles.

I 35 33 do. Peter Colles.

I 3 I 3> 6 Edward II., Peterus Colles.

1315. 8 do. Ricardus Colles.

1316, 9 do. do.
1316, 9 do. Peter Colles.

1319, 12 do. Ricardus Colles.

1320, 14 do. Ricardus Colles, junior.

1320, 14 do. Ricardus Colles.

1321, 14 do. William Colles.

1322, 15 do. Ricardus Colles.

1323, 16 do. Peter Colles.
1325, 19 do. do.
1327, i Edward III., do.
1341, 14 do. Richard Colles.

I hope no wicked wag will accuse me of having

274

RICHARD COLLES

of St. Stephen's Green, Dublin, and of Prospect, Co. Dublin
(b. 1748 ; called to the Bar, 1783 ; d. 1816)

MONUMENTS IN LEIGH CHURCH

'(From engravings in "Collections for the History of Worcestershire," by T. Nash, 1781.

'The tomb on the right is that of William Colles, who died in 1615. The lower tomb in the

centre is that of Edmund Colles, who died in 1606)

The Family of Colles in England

anything in common with the De Rougement
referred to in the following. He, no doubt, was an
ancestor of the wonderful liar whose exploits were
chronicled in " The Wide World " magazine.

The passage referred to runs as follows

In 1310, William Colles of Worcester granted to
the Master and Brethren of the Hospital or Com-
manding of St. Walstan in the Parish of St. Peter's,
City of Worcester, " all that land called Chestall,
Oldcastle, Edward's Church, with common for six
beasts in Lulsley after the hay had been carried off
as also a messuage held there by one Peter de
Rougemente." The License of the Bishop of
Worcester, Lord of the Manor, allowing him 10
alienate the land is dated London, Sid July, 1310.
The .Commanding or Hospital of St. Walstan was
a community of secular priests and had nothing to
do with the Knights of St. John. It still gives, I
think, its name to a street in Worcester, viz., Com-
manding Street.

There is a farm called Colles Place (vulgo Coles
Place or Cold Place) in Lulsley, which is mentioned
in a ledger of the Priory of Malvern, in the reign of
Henry III., as belonging to the family of Colles.

In 1415, Gualterus Colles " scriba principis," was
a member of the Embassy sent to France by King
Henry V. Twenty years later we find Walter Colles
Constable of Bordeaux and appointed with six others
by Henry VI. in a Commission under his Privy
Seal dated Westminster, Qth July, 1435, to investi-
gate the claims of Bertrand de Monteferando to the

275

In Castle and Court House

estate of his uncle Baron de la Bret. Three Com-
missioners to be a quorum. These facts will be
found stated in Redman's " Life of Henry V." The
text in Rymer's " Foedera " runs as follows

:< The Kyng at Shene ye Xlth day of May ye
XlXth year by y' advys of my Lordes his councillers
commanded ye keeper of his privy seal to make
sufficiaunt warrant unto ye Tresorer of Englande and
Chamberlyns to delyvere money for payment of all
servys after ye payment of Fraunce unto my lorde
Duke of York under his furme. Yat is to say ye
sayde money to be put in a secure coffre under two
lokkes of which Maistre Walter Collys shall have
one Kay and Lewys John Knyght anoyer, which
coffre shall be opennyd in ye landyng of ye saide
Duk beyond ye sees and after muster taken by
ye sayde Walter and Lewys with oyer of ye sayde
speres ye saide money be employde in ye payment
of John on his appointment as one of the King's
Council in Normandy."

The Royal Palace, it will be remembered, was at
the time at Shene, near Richmond.

In 1442, on the Qth of October, the King in Council
in the Great Chamber at Eltham debated the terms
of the truce lately made " betwix the Due of York and
ye Duchess of Bourgoyne," and ordered a Com-
mission to be issued, in which Walter Colics' name
appears as " Magister Walter Colles praecentoris

Ecclesiae Cathedralis Exoniae," which, allowing for

276

The Family of Colles in England

the spelling of the period, seems to point to Walter's
having been a precentor of Exeter Cathedral.

During the Wars of the Roses the Colleses (as
might be expected from Walter Colics' position in
the service of Henry VI.), were Lancastrians. After
the Battle of Wakefield (29th December, 1461) one
of them, Michael Colles, was seized and hanged by
some of the fugitive Yorkists.

It was in Henry Vlth's reign that the intermarriage
between the Purefoys and the ancestor of the Irish
family of Colles took place.

The first of the Colles family that settled in
Worcestershire, appears to have been Richard Colles
of Alfrick, said in the Visitation Book of Warwick-
shire, 1619, to have been " e familia Collesorum de
com. Somerset." He was buried at Powick, in 1440.
His grandson, William Colles, married Margaret,
sister and co-heiress of John Hitch, and died in 1558,
aged 63, having had issue Edmund Colles, Michael
Colles, of Hampton in Arden, Co Warwick; and
Biadwell, Bucks; William Colles of Parkbury,
Herts; and John Colles of Hatfield Court, Co
Hereford. The eldest, Edmund Colles, purchased
the Manor of Leigh, and was in the Commission of
the Peace, and Deputy Lieutenant of the County.
He was High Sheriff of the County in the time
of Queen Elizabeth and was a Justice of the Council
of the Marches in Wales.

Referring to this Edward Colles, Nash says

" This respectable person, whose ancestors were

277

In Castle and Court House

possessed of lands in Leigh, Bransford, Hallow,
Grimley, Sukley, Broadwas, and Cotheridge, married
Joane, daughter of Robert Somerville of Somer-
ville's, Ashtcn com. Glouc., by whom he had one
daughter married to Mr Dansey of Brinsop, in the
County of Hereford, and a son, William, who
married Mary Palmer, daughter and heir of Jerome
Palmer, by Eleanor Paget, third daughter of William
Baron Paget, Lord Privy Seal and Knight of the
Garter. His issue are mentioned in Sukley. Mr
Edmund Colles had a second wife of the name
and family of Townsend, anciently in Norfolk, but
most esteemed in the Marches of Wales. His issue
by her were Susan Colles, wife of Sir Edmund
Harewell, Knight of the Bath, t. James I., and
Edmund Colles of Grimley, whose wife was
descended from the knightly families of Cornwall,
and Blunt of Kinlet, com. Staff., and was of the
blood of Acton, of Acton, a name existing before
the Conquest. A brother of that eminent man, Mr
Edmund Colles, was Mr John Colles, of Hatfield,
com. Heref., whose son's heir, Mr Colles, married the
apparent heir of Mr Ingram of Earle's Court, near
Worcester."

In the Habingdon MSS., the following passage
is quoted from " The White Book of the Bishoprick
of Worcester " " This Manor (Suckley) being the
Abbot's of Tewkesbury, together with the Parsonage
of Bushley appropriate, falling into the King's hands

by the suppression of Monasteries, was afterwards

278

The Family of Colles in England

passed away (3 and 4 Philip and Mary) to John
Handby, or Hundby; from whom it came to
Edmund Colles, of Leigh, Esq. ; who gave it to
John Colles, the son of his younger son, Mr Richard
Colles," and Nash in his remarks on Berrington says

" it is a manor one mile north west of Tenbury, and
was annexed to the Priory of St. John the Evange-
list in Pembroke. After the dissolution of this priory,
it was granted (36 Henry VIII.) to Richard
Andrews, who conveyed it to Mr Richard Palmer,
from whom it passed to Mr Matthew Palmer, from
whom it descended to Mr Jerome Palmer, whose
daughter and heir, Mary, brought it to her husband,
William Colles."

Nash also says in his account of Leigh, " This
ancient lordship of the abbots of Pershore falling
by the dissolution of monasteries into the King's
hands, remained there until Elizabeth's time. The
tenants of the house and demesne, both under the
abbot and under the King and Queen, were the
Colleses, of which family was Mr Edmund Colles,
' a grave and learned justice of this shire, who
purchased the inheritance of this manor,' whose son,
William Colles, succeeded him, whose son and heir,
Mr Edmund Colles, lived in the time of Mr Habing-
don, and being loaded with debts (which like a snow-
ball from Malvern Hill gathered increase), thought
fit to sell it to Sir Walter Devereux, Bart."

This sale led to the Colleses of Leigh being

279

In Castle and Court House

accredited with a family ghost! The legend, as
told by a correspondent of The Athen&um, 26th
September, 1846, is as follows

" I well remember that in my juvenile days old
people used to speak of a spectre that formerly
appeared in the parish of Leigh, in Co Worcester,
whom they called ' Old Coles ' ; and said that he
frequently used, at dead of night, to ride as swift as
the wind down that part of the public road between
Bransford and Brocamin, called Leigh Walk, in a
coach drawn by four horses, with fire flying out of
their nostrils and that they invariably dashed right
over the great barn at Leigh Court, and then on into
the river Teme. It was likewise said that this per-
turbed spirit was at length laid in a neighbouring pool
by twelve parsons at dead of night, by the light of an
inch of candle ; and as he was not to rise again until
the candle was quite burnt out, it was, therefore,
thrown into the pool, and to make all sure the pool
was filled up

" And peaceful after that slept old Colics' shade.'*

My cousin, the late Surgeon John Armstrong
Purefoy Colles of the Bengal Army told me that
when he visited Leigh in 1869 tna t this ghost was
by no means laid, but was still supposed to haunt
the cellars of Leigh Court "where he sits on the
largest beer barrel and squeaks like a rat." A rope
hanging from the vault of the cellar is known as
" Colles' Bell." This, however, I think is quite too

undignified behavour for any Colles to indulge in.

280

The Family of Colles in England

From ghosts to monuments is an easy transition.
The descriptions in " Nash's History," of the tombs
which I have had photographed, run as follows

" On the north side of the church Mr Edmund
Colles' arms, who was the first that bore them, a man
esteemed the wisest of his age in the government of
this country. This first coat of the Colles' is impaled
with three birds. The arms of his family about the
reign of Henry IV., are a chevron between three
birds."

In the Habingdon MS., the description of
Edmund Colles' tomb is given

" On the south side (of Leigh Church) is a raised
monument, having the portraiture of a man in civil
habit, with a lion at his feet, and some verses over
him that are scarce legible, and not worth much
trouble. About the tomb is this inscription ' Hie
jacet sepultus Edmundus Colles arm. qui. obiit 19
Dec., A.D. 1606, aet. suae. 76.' " Then follows a des-
cription of his arms which I spare my indulgent
reader.

Of another of my illustrations of tombs the
following description is given by Nash

" On the north side of the chancel, on a raised
tomb and under an arch supported by two pillars
is the portraiture of a Knight armed and kneeling;
behind him his wife kneeling; over them the arms
and crest of Colles. On the dexter pillar the arms
of Colles, and over it some emblems, and above that

the crest of Colles. On the sinister pillar his wife's

281

In Castle and Court House

single coat. This Inscription in great letters : ' Hie
jacet sepulta Maria Colles, uxor Gulielmi Colles
armigeri, qui Obiit 14 Aprilis, A.D. 1602'; and
about the tomb these words, ' Here lieth William
Colles, of Leigh, in the County of Worcester, Esq.,
with Mary, his wife, daughter and heir of Jerome
Palmer, Esq., by Esther Paget, his wife, third
daughter of William Lord Paget, Baron of
Beaudefert, Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal, Knight
of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, and a Privy
Counsellor to Henry VIII., Edward VI., and Queen
Mary. William Colles died 2Oth Sept., 1615; and
Mary his wife, died i$th April, 1602.' Beneath are
his seven sons and five daughters kneeling."

In 1892 I had the particulars given above printed
in a little pamphlet for private circulation, and
as I glance at descriptions of the crest " A sea-pye
Sable seizing on a fish proper, wounded and
bleeding," I recall the words of Sydney Smith : " My
ancestors had no arms, but invariably sealed their
letters with their thumbs."

282

CHAPTER XXX

THE FAMILY OF COLLES IN THE UNITED STATES

Christopher Colles, the First Projector of Inland Naviga-
tion in America A Pupil of Richard Pococke, the
Famous Oriental Traveller, later Bishop of Ossory
Death of Pococke in 1765 Colles leaves for Phila-
delphia in 1771 His Public Lectures His proposals
for Construction of Reservoirs The Revolutionary
War Colles teaches Gunnery to American Artillery
His Pamphlets on Joining the Waters of the Great
Lakes His Proposals for the Introduction of the
Telegraph His Death in 1816 John Colles (1751-
1807) E. G. T. Colles, Inventor of the Colles
Fourfold Heater and Live Steam Purifier Pioneers
of American Progress.

' To no single individual is the system of American
improvements more indebted than to Christopher
Colles," so wrote John Austin Stephens the Editor
of " The Magazine of American History," in an
article which appeared in that magazine in June,
1878, headed "Christopher Colles, the First Pro-
jector of Inland Navigation in America."

Christopher Colles was born in Ireland in the
year 1738. Left an orphan at an early age, he
passed into the charge of the renowned Richard

Pococke, the famous Oriental traveller, later Bishop

283

In Castle and Court House

of Ossory. The pursuits of Pococke led the mind
of his adopted pupil to physical investigation, and,
it would appear, that to considerable attainments in
languages, he added a fair acquaintance with mathe-
matics, mineralogy, climate, antiquities, and geo-
graphical science.

Upon the death of Pococke in 1765, Colles started
upon his wanderings. The first reference to his
name, in connection with New York, appears in
Watson's annals of that city, in which it is stated
he delivered public lectures in Philadelphia in 1772,
upon pneumatics, illustrated by experiments in an
air pump of his invention.

He is also said to have been the first in the United
States to undertake the building of a steam engine,
for a distillery in Philadelphia, but failed for want
of means, although his plans secured the approval of
David Ritterhouse and the Philosophical Society.
In 1773 he lectured at the Exchange, in New York,
on the advantages in lock navigation.

Colles was the first person who suggested canals,
and improvements on the Ontario route. In
November, 1784, according to the records of the
Assembly, he presented a memorial on the subject,
and, in April following, a favourable report was had
thereon. Colles visited the country, and took an
actual survey of the principal obstructions upon the
Mohawk river as far as Wood Creek. He published
the results of his tour in a pamphlet in 1785. lf The
amazing extent," he wrote, " of the five great lakes
to which the proposed navigation will communicate,

284

The Family of Colles in United States

will be found to have five times as much coast as
all England; and the countries watered by the
numerous rivers which fall into these lakes, full seven
or eight times as great as that valuable island."

In an article on the "Water Chronology of the
City of New York," published in that valuable
repository, the Corporation Manual of Valentine
for 1854, the services of Colles only are noticed by
the writer, Theodore R. de Forest.

Colles, in 1774, proposed the construction of a
reservoir and other works, and the laying down of
a system of conduit pipes. With the aid of the
corporation of the city, a steam pumping engine was
erected near the collect pond. This enterprise was
completed in March, 1776. The engine carried a
pump eleven inches in diameter and six feet stroke,
which lifted 417,600 gallons daily. The War of the
Revolution arrested the undertaking, yet in 1778 the
people petitioned that Colles' plan might be carried
out. When later, the Manhattan Company was
chartered to supply New York with water, it is
claimed that the original proposal to look without
its limits for a supply came from Colles.

On the breaking out of the war, Colles turned his
remarkable fertility of resource to a military enter-
prise, giving lectures on gunnery, and teaching the
American artillery the principles of projectiles, in
which employment, his biographer in Appleton's
Encyclopaedia says, he was continued until this
branch of the service was remodelled on the arrival

of Baron Steuben in 1777.

285

In Castle and Court House

Immediately on the close of the war, he again
devoted his attention to his favourite project of
internal improvement. All the authorities concur
in giving to Colles the credit of having been not
only the first to propose, but the first to bring before
the public, in a practical form, the feasibility and vast
national advantage of a system of water communica-
tion, which should unite the great lakes and their
boundless tributory territory with the Atlantic ocean.

The priority of Christopher Colles in the concep-
tion of the grand design is demonstrated by several
passages in his pamphlet of 1785. For instance,
where he says that " by this the internal trade will
be promoted ; by this the country will be settled ;
by this the frontiers will be secured ; by this a variety
of articles, as masts, yards, and ship timber, may be
brought to New York, which will not bear the
expense of land carriage, and which, notwithstanding,
will be a very considerable remittance to Europe ;
by this in time of war provisions and military stores
may be moved with facility in sufficient quantity to
meet any emergency, and by this in time of peace,
all the necessary conveniences, and if we please the
luxuries of life, may be distributed to the romotest
parts of the GREAT LAKES which so beautifully
diversify the face of this extensive continent,
and to the smallest branches of the numerous rivers
which shoot from these lakes upon any point of the
compass."

Although this great project temporarily failed,

Colles contrived to interest himself in matters of

286

The Family of Colles in United States

public interest, and issued proposals for publishing
a Survey of the Roads of the United States of
America. This was published in 1789. The plates
were of copper, neatly engraved, " each page con-
taining a delineation of near twelve miles of road on
a scale of about an inch and three-quarters to a
mile."

In 1808, encouraged, perhaps, by the improve-
ment of inland navigation in the State of New York,
Colles proposed a plan of navigation between New
York and Philadelphia, but as before, without
practical benefit to himself. His views were made
public in a little tract issued at his own expense.
The plan proposed was to erect canals not dug into
the soil, as in Europe, but built of timber, entirely
elevated above the ground, with perpendicular sides t

In a series of articles by Henry O'Reilly, which
appeared in " The Historical Magazine," entitled
" Material for Telegraph History," the writer in the
article which appeared in April, 1869, recognises
Colles as having been the first to make " formal
proposal for telegraphic intercourse along the whole
American coast, from Passamaquoddy to New
Orleans." This was in the Summer of 1812, by
means of public lectures and newspaper articles.
Colles only partially succeeded in his endeavours. A
Semaphoric Telegraph was established to signalise
intelligence between New York and Sandy Hook,
which for many years was under his personal
direction. In a little pamphlet published in the year
following, he described this numerical telegraph to

287

In Castle and Court House

be a machine composed of a frame of timber in the
form of a five-pointed star, to be erected on
eminences, so as to be distinctly visible with a tele-
scope at a distance of ten miles. A revolving index
carried a circular board, on which were marked nine
digits and a cypher.

Mr O'Reilly wrote with regard to this matter:
" Had the wise suggestions of Mr Colles been
promptly sustained by the Government or by the
business community had his proposed telegraph
system been extended along the coast to any con-
siderable extent so as to transmit intelligence
rapidly among the American people ; many move-
ments of British fleets and armies might have been
essentially impeded, if not entirely frustrated, and
our national feelings, as well as the public and private
interests of our countrymen, might have been saved
from various painful ordeals. But in 1812, even the
citizens of New York were as slow in appreciating the
value of Colles' Semaphoric Telegraph as they were
in 1845, when little or nothing could be raised in that
city towards extending the Electro-magnetic Tele-
graph northward of Baltimore to which place the
National Government had built a forty-mile experi-
mental line from Washington during the previous
year."

It is pleasant to learn from a sketch contributed
by Dr John W. Francis to " The Knickerbocker
Gallery," published in New York in 1855; a hand-
some volume to which Washington Irving, Oliver

Wendell Holmes, William Cullen Bryant, Bayard

288

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The Family of Colles in United States

Taylor, John G. Saxe, James Russell Lowell, N. P.
Willis, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and
other well-known American writers also contributed ;
that though many of Colics' projects failed, he bore
his losses philosophically. In Dr Francis' article,
which fills twenty pages, and is entitled " Reminis-
cences of Christopher Colles," we read :

" Many paid deference to him amid all his dis-
appointments. De Witt Clinton included him among
the prominent promoters of internal improvement.
Dr Mitchell often visited him, and lauded his services
in the advancement of public works. Jarvis, the
painter, pronounced him a genius, and painted his
portrait with great fidelity. * My pencil,' said Jarvis,
' will render you hereafter better known ; you have
done too much good to be forgotten.' The picture
is in the Historical Society. Dr Hosack commemo-
rated him, in his ' Life of Clinton,' as an early
pioneer in behalf of the canal policy of New York,
and caused an engraving of his portrait to occupy
a niche on the column of his canal worthies. Senator
Seward has not overlooked him in his elaborate
introduction to the ' Natural History of New York.'
Trumbull, the historical painter, often cheered him
onward, and bid him hope, for on that article he
himself had long lived. Nor was that genuine
Knickerbocker, G. C. Verplanck, indifferent to his
condition, nor backward in suggestions. In the great
celebration which took place in New York in
November, 1825, when the waters of Erie united
with the Atlantic, the effigy of Colles was borne with

289 T

In Castle and Court House

appropriate dignity among the emblems of that vast
procession." And Dr Francis added:

" Had I encountered Colles in any land I would
have been willing to have naturalised him to our
soil and institutions. He had virtues, the exercise of
which must prove profitable to any people. . . .
The ardent and untiring man was so connected with
divers affairs, even after he had domesticated himself
among us, that every movement in which he took a
part must have had salutary influences on the masses
of those days."

Christopher Colles died on the 4th of October,
1816, in the 7Qth year of his age, and was buried in
St. Paul's Cemetery in New York. Mr Henry
O'Reilly thus closes his account of him : " As
unostentatious as he was sagacious, he was indeed
one of those gifted men whose misfortune consists
in being ahead of their times. The New York
Historical Society has a portrait painted by Jarvis
as a mark of respect from some of the eminent con-
temporaries of Colles; and that valuable Society
may well point to it as a memento of one of the best
men that ever trod its halls or honoured its member-
ship. Be his memory ever honoured as one of the
worthiest pioneers of American Progress ! "

John Colles (1751-1807), at one time a publisher
in Dublin, went to America with his Cousin
Christopher in 1771. His son, James Colles (1788-
1883) was a merchant in New Orleans, and lived
to the great age of ninety-five. His son of the same

name also lived to a good old age (1828-1898) and

290

The Family of Colles in United States

his grandson, Christopher John Colles, practises as
a physician in New York, and is the author of some
medical works of which some specimens are in the
Library of the British Museum.

That the faculty for invention is not dead in the
Colles family is proved by the fact that Edward
Taylor Gillespie Colles, a son of William Henry
George Colles (1803-1880), who settled in Canada
in 1859, an d nephew of Edward Richards Purefoy
Colles (1798-1883) already referred to, is the
inventor of much useful machinery, notably The
Colles Fourfold Heater and Live Steam Purifier,
which can be seen at work to-day in Clinton Street,
Chicago, where the inventor has his factory and from
which these heaters not alone are despatched
throughout the United States and Canada, but leave
for shipment to Europe.

291

CHAPTER XXXI

KINGS AND CORONATIONS

The Coronation of 1902 King Edward VII. The
Queen's Poetess Ella Mary Gordon " Poems for
the People " Auchintoul, Aboyne The Town Clerk
of Aberdeen A Visit to Balmoral Accident at
Braemar King Lewanika of Barotseland Colonel
Colin Harding Mauled by Lions Sir David and
Lady Stewart Balcorry Castle The Fiji Contingent
Making of Kava A Whisky and Potass.

IN this year of the coronation of King George V.,
I recall the fact that in 1902 I was one of the many
who were saddened by the intelligence of the sudden
illness of King Edward VII. That sage King and
genial gentleman may be said, without fear of contra-
diction, to have been the most deeply loved monarch
that ever sat on the throne of England. He was in
the realms of Royalty all that Oliver Goldsmith was
in the realms of literature. Of him also it might be
said that he touched nothing that he did not adorn.
And for once Mr Bernard Shaw was right, we might
admire in Edward VII. His Majesty the King, but
it was the Man we loved, " the genial figure with
the race-glass and the cigar ; the pattern for all good
stockbrokers from Friday to Monday."

I wonder do many of my readers know the work

292

Kings and Coronations

of Ella Mary Gordon, whose poems were the
favourite reading of Queen Victoria, a fact which
won for the poetess the pleasing title of " The
Queen's Poetess." It is to Dr Charles Forshaw
I owe my acquaintance with Mrs Gordon, who is a
daughter of the great Rosarian, Mr Paul, of
Waltham Cross, and wife of the genial Town Clerk
of Aberdeen. Mrs Gordon's sister, Miss Florence
Paul is an artist of exceptional ability, and has illus-
trated the Poems of the Queen's Poetess in a truly
charming style.

The chief characteristics of Mrs Gordon's poems
are simplicity and directness. She does not toy with
her subject, nor view it in different lights, nor does
she, even in the poems most steeped in pathos,
indulge in introspection or in tears. There is the
strength which springs from serenity in all her work,
and this strength is communicated to her readers,
thus making her poems a source of consolation to
those who are sad of heart. Mrs Gordon seems to
have accepted the dictum of Lucretius, that " true
religion consists in beholding all things with a calm
soul." Her poems breathe a spirit of resignation
and of steadfastness.

In illustration I may quote the following poem
which does not, as the work of many other poets
on the same theme, prove the speaker to be a dweller
in a region roofed by repentance and paved with
despair. The situation is none the less painful, the
grief is none the less poignant because the utterance
is deliberately calm. Love may exist whole-hearted

293

In Castle and Court House

though the love cannot " starve, feast, despair, and
be happy."

" Although another's name I bear,

I still am true;

And when I too have reached the goal,
Shall look for you.

Had we walked daily hand in hand,

Care might have pressed;
Now, looking back on what has been

'Twas for the best.

One sweet ray shines when cloudy mists

Fall on my soul
Our love has not been worn by time ;

It still lives whole."

Being by Royal Deeside in July, 1902, staying
at the Huntly Arms Hotel, in Aboyne, I ventured
to call upon Mrs Gordon who resided during the
summer months at a delightful chalet called Auchin-
toul, a beautiful little structure with a lower story of
granite and an upper of pinewood, the whole being
surrounded with climbing roses, and from the window
could be heard the soothing sound of the river as
it rounded the garden to flow under a fine suspension
bridge.

I found Mrs Gordon in a charming little sitting-
room, which overlooked the garden. I had had
some correspondence with her in connection with
the cheap edition of her poetical works entitled
" Poems for the People," and at once recognised her
from a fine portrait which had been reproduced as

frontispiece to that book.

294

Kings and Coronations

At the moment of my entry she was examining
some rare wild birds' eggs which her son, Paul
Seaton Gordon, a fine, manly young fellow of
eighteen, or thereabouts, had recently acquired for
his collection. Young Gordon, who is a capital
amateur photographer, was showing his mother some
photographs he had taken of eggs to illustrate an
article on the subject, and Mrs Gordon's private
secretary, a lady, was evidently also much interested.

It is now eight years since I was at Aboyne, but
I remember well the impression created by this
gentle and refined woman as she spoke of Sir John
Stainer and others of her friends, and, going to the
piano played for me the simple air to which the
following verses had just been set

The One I loved the best

Has entered into rest,

Above the clouds' white crest.

The One I loved of old
Has won her crown of gold,
And knows the joys untold.

No breakers lash the Bar,
No sorrows surge afar,
Where shines my guiding star.

The work of life is done,
The cloudless day begun,
God guards my dearest One.

The sun has sunk to rest
For ever in the West
With her my soul loved best.
295

In Castle and Court House

A little later the Town Clerk of Aberdeen entered
the room, and was good enough to say that in
anticipation of my visit he had made arrangements
for Mrs Gordon, her Secretary, and myself to visit
Balmoral on the morrow. Accordingly, the following
morning found me travelling with these two ladies
by train from Aboyne to Ballater, from which a
coach-and-four runs to Braemar.

As we neared the latter place we saw from our
seats on the box that three large motor cars were
rapidly coming towards us. The driver of the coach
becoming uneasy on account of the restiveness of
one of the leaders, pulled up and asked me to hold
his head. I was dressed in riding breeches and
leathers, and at once complied, but as I reached the
ground, Mrs Gordon, who had recently been in a
carriage accident, becoming nervous, leaped from
the top of the coach. Luckily I was just in time
to catch her, and leave her to the care of the other
passengers, before running to the horse's head and
quieting him as the motors containing a number of
coloured people and one or two whites dashed past.

These cars, I learned later, contained King
Lewanika, the enlightened ruler of Barotseland, who
was accompanied by members of his suite and by
Colonel Colin Harding, the British Commandant of
Barotseland, who did much in British interests in
connection with the Anglo-Portuguese Barotse
Boundary question.

After a few moments Mrs Gordon recovered from

her fright, and we proceeded to Braemar, where we

296

Kings and Coronations

had a pleasant luncheon party at the Fife Arms.
Later we went in a brougham to Balmoral, which we
had permission to inspect, thanks to the good offices
of Mr Gordon.

On the day following, Mrs Gordon kindly took
me for a drive round Aboyne, in the course of which
she called upon Mr and Mrs Williams, with whom
King Lewanika, Colonel Harding, and the entire
party from Barotseland were staying. Here we
found the Monarch and his dusky suite being photo-
graphed, and I was presented to his Majesty, and
had a pleasant chat with Colonel Harding, who is
a splendid type of Englishman. I may mention
here, that in 1904 I heard, with great regret, that
this gallant officer was severely mauled by lions
when travelling near Kalomo, his right shoulder
being badly smashed and both his legs severely
bitten.

A day or two after the visit to Balmoral, Mr and
Mrs Gordon took me with them to Balcony Castle,
the seat of Sir David Stewart. Here a large number
of guests were entertained on a lovely summer after-
noon, one of the chief attractions being a visit from
the party of Fijians who had come over in connec-
tion with the Coronation. Amongst other things,
such as dances, we witnessed the ceremony of
making Kava, a drink much esteemed in Fiji. It
was not made in orthodox fashion, a not very savoury
method on which I shall not expatiate, but was
brewed; the root being alternately soused in water

and wrung out by the Chief, who plunged his

297

In Castle and Court House

brawny brown arms up to the elbows in the liquid,
while his followers, clad in light garments, and with
chaplets of roses on their heads, marched round him
singing some weird hymn tunes !

When the ceremony of consecration was over, and
the liquor was deemed to be ready, half-cocoa-nuts
and calabashes were dipped in it and offered to the
guests to imbibe. I tasted the fluid, which resembled
in flavour a mixture of soap and water with a dash
of red pepper. This liquor is said when indulged in
too freely to affect the legs but not the head. I am
glad to say that I took my departure as sober as a
judge.

I saw King Lewanika several times during my
short stay in Aboyne, and that shrewd Monarch is,
I am glad to see, still on the throne of Barotseland.
The latest intelligence received concerning him is
that the Duke of Connaught devoted an afternoon
to reviewing the Barotse Police and to a reception
of Lewanika the Barotse Chief and his fellow tribes-
men, who presented the Duke with a Royal Blue
Monkey, and a grey Kaross. A sham hippopotamus
hunt was got up by Lewanika for the Duke's
entertainment, the hunt being partaken in by skilled
hunters in dug-out canoes.

While staying in Aboyne, I had the pleasure of
meeting some clergy of the district, one of them
kindly asking me to visit his kirk on the following
Sabbath day. I accepted the invitation and also
the suggestion that I should call at the manse before

entering the kirk. This accordingly I did, and

298

Kings and Coronations

found my reverend friend in his study with his second
in command. I was a little bit curious to discover
why I had been asked to call at the minister's house,
but I had not long to wait for a solution of the
mystery, for turning to me a few minutes after I had
entered, he said :

" I thought that perhaps you might be weary, and
that a glass of whisky and potass might not be amiss."

I thanked him for his kindly thought which was
the outcome of genuine Scottish hospitality, and I
have no doubt that in consequence of this glass of
whisky and potass I sang " All people that on earth
do dwell " with more unction than I would otherwise
have done !

I returned to London in time for the Coronation,
which took place on Qth August, 1902. The last
time I saw King Edward was at the ceremony of
opening Kingsway, when I stood little more than
the length of a walking stick in front of him, and he
looked in magnificent health and strength. Much
work and worry were, however, in store for him, and
he never shirked a duty. The King is dead. Long
live the King! In his Majesty, George V. we have
a Monarch who will not alone profit by the great
example of his father, but strike out a line of his own,
a line which will render his name illustrious, the
indications of which are, in my humble judgment,
already markedly perceptible.

299

THE PROVOST AND FELLOWS OF TRINITY

" Father O'Flynn " and Alfred Perceval Graves-
Provosts Jellett and Salmon Provost Anthony
Traill, LL.D. A " Learic " by Father Matthew
Russell Professor R. Yelverton Tyrrell His Essays
and Translations Professor Starkie " The Story of
Cupid and Psyche," edited by Professor Louis Claude
Purser George Ferdinand Shaw His Articles in
The Dublin Evening Mail The Nemean Odes of
Pindar, edited by Professor Bury Henry Stewart
Macran, F.T.C.D. Robert Russell, F.T.C.D. " The
Book of Trinity College " A Fine Irish Bull.

EVERYONE knows, or ought to know, " Father
O'Flynn," that capital song by Alfred Perceval
Graves, a song which will last as long as there is a
priest in Ireland. Owing to his being resident in
England I did not see much of Mr Graves, but when
Mr Arthur a Beckett's ill-fated paper John Bull,
was about to be started, he called on me with the
view of my becoming a contributor, and since then
I have met him once or twice.

My reason for referring to " Father O'Flynn " is
on account of the verses in that celebrated song,
which praise the Provost and Fellows of Trinity as

being famous alike for Greek and Latinity. I have

300

The Provost and Fellows of Trinity

already referred to Jellett, who was succeeded as
Provost by Salmon, a celebrated mathematician and
divine. When Salmon died, full of years and
honours, he was succeeded by Dr Anthony Traill,
the present Provost. Long may he reign! Traill
is a robust and athletic man, a good sportsman and
a bulwark of the Protestant Church. He is the beau
ideal of " a strong still man in a blatant land."

Dr Anthony Traill has great strength of character.
He cares for no one's opinions save his own, and he
does not hesitate to plump for himself should occasion
arise. He and his sons are men of muscle. I
remember on one occasion when father and sons
were on the cricket field, an English visitor asking:
" Are those buffaloes which have evolved into men,
or men who have degenerated into buffaloes ? " The
name of Traill is famous in another direction, for
Dr Anthony Traill's brother ran the first electric
train in the world ; that from Portrush to the Giant's
Causeway, and another brother was Major R. G.
Traill, a Resident Magistrate in the West of Ireland,
who was a terror to evil-doers. All honour to
Anthony Traill, he is the right man for such a
position in troublous times for the old University of
Dublin.

I have already referred more than once to
Professor Mahaffy, who is a Doctor of Divinity, a
Doctor of Music, and a Doctor of Civil Law of
Oxford. His " History of Greek Literature " is a
delightful book, and is never likely to be superseded.

Mahaffy 's kindliness of heart is unbounded. I

301

In Castle and Court House

proposed, on one occasion, to lecture on the works
of Henrik Ibsen and asked Mahaffy to take the
chair. He wrote saying he was going for a holiday,
but would, nevertheless, postpone it if I could alter
the date of my lecture. I would not, however, hear
of the Professor depriving himself of a well-earned
holiday. One of the most entertaining of Mahaffy's
books has long been out of print, his " Prolegomena
to Ancient History."

Another Professor of Trinity College, Dublin, has
thus been referred to by a contemporary poet, the
Rev. Matthew Russell, S.J., Editor of The Irish
Monthly, which he founded in 1873. Father
Russell terms his verses " Learics," after Edward
Lear. He wrote

Professor R. Yelverton Tyrrell
In Latin is brisk as a squirrel;

And eke his Greek prose

As pleasantly flows
As the language of Lang or of Birrell.

Of course, Father Russell's reference is to " Obiter
Dicta." What " the language of Birrell " was, or
could be, when he was kicked in the leg by a
suffragette, we can only guess at.

Father Russell is a younger brother of the late
Lord Russell of Killowen, Chief Justice of England.
After his ecclesiastical education at Maynooth, he
joined the Jesuit Order, and has worked in schools
and churches in Limerick and Dublin. He is well-
known in the world of letters as the compiler of

302

The Provost and Fellows of Trinity

" Sonnets on the Sonnet," published by Longmans
in 1898. This collection contains no less than a
hundred and fifty-seven sonnets, the subject of each
of which is the Sonnet itself regarded from some
point of view. Among the contributors were Swin-
burne, Austin Dobson, W. E. Henley, Wilfrid
Blunt, Archbishop Alexander, and Professor W. W.
Skeat.

Father .Russell is a poet of no mean powers. His
verses, entitled, " Land ! Land ! " was the last poem
which caught Gladstone's attention just before he
died

My dying hour, how near art them?

Or near or far, my head I bow
Before God's ordinance supreme;
But ah, how priceless then will seem

Each moment rashly squandered now!

Teach me, for thou can'st teach me, how
These fleeting instants to endow
With worth that may the past redeem,
My dying hour I

My barque that late with buoyant prow
The sunny waves did gaily plough,
Now through the sunset's fading gleam
Drifts dimly shore wards in a dream.
I feel the land-breeze on my brow,
My dying hour!

Professor Tyrrell's " Lectures on Latin Poetry,"
and his " Essays on Greek Literature " are
fascinating books, and he has edited with Professor
L. C. Purser the " Correspondence of Cicero," in
seven volumes. Tyrrell's translation of the

303

In Castle and Court House

Archarnians of Aristophanes into English verse is
excellent. To translate the Archarnians has ever
since Frere's days had been the ambition of classical
scholars, witness the latest translation by Professor
Starkie, also a Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin.

A propos of editions of the Classics, one of the
finest achievements in this line is " The Story of
Cupid and Psyche as related by Apuleius," edited
with an admirable introduction and notes by
Professor Louis Claude Purser, F.T.C.D. It is only
by a stretch of the imagination that Apuleius can be
counted a Classic, for his language is strange and
unclassical and therefore by no means easy to edit.

One of the most noted figures in T.C.D., was my
dear friend George Ferdinand Shaw, LL.D., for
some time the Registrar. So long-lived were the
Fellows, that Shaw used to complain that for over
forty years he was a Junior Fellow. Shaw used to
write brilliant leading articles for Saunder's News-
letter, and later for The Dublin Evening Mail,
when the latter was the property of George Tickell.
I also was a contributor to the Mail, but as I was
chief Accountant of the Ulster Bank, I could not
visit the offices, accordingly a book used to be carried
from Shaw to me, and from me to Shaw, in which
we wrote letters and messages to each other. Some
of Shaw's messages were like the language of Walt
Whitman full of " hells " and " damns." I secured
one of these books when filled, and well remember
making my friends laugh over Shaw's remarks on
misprints in an article written by him on Professor

304

The Provost and Fellows of Trinity

Bury's edition of the Nemean Odes of Pindar. The
page was lurid with sulphurous sentiments and
ill-wishes for the printer's fate! My copy of Bury's
edition of the Nemean Odes was presented by the
editor to the late Professor Atkinson.

A propos of Atkinson, he edited the " Yellow Book
of Leccan " for the Royal Irish Academy. In a little
volume entitled " Who is Who in Dublin," Atkinson
was stated to be author of " The Book of Ballymote ''
and " The Yellow Book of Leccan! " Out of this
little " Who is Who " I had the pleasure of reading
to Sir Francis Cruise a notice of his own decease!
a fact which greatly amused that able medical man
and excellent musician.

Professor J. B. Bury to whom I have just referred
was for many years the " marvellous boy " of the
University. He secured high honours very early in
life, and even now is not fifty. His " History of
Greece," and his edition of Gibbon's " Decline and
Fall " are fine works. Bury is now Regius Professor
of Modern History at Cambridge.

Dr T. K. Abbott, the Librarian of T.C.D. is one
of the labourers on Kant's Ethics, but his life has
been devoted to his Library, which is one of the best
equipped in the world, and enjoys the copyright
privilege.

Among thv; Junior Fellows there are now many
brilliant young men; but Death has been busy
amongst the Seniors, sweeping away, with others,
Thomas Kells Ingram, the author of "Who Fears

305 u

In Castle and Court House

to Speak of Ninety-eight ? " and of volumes on
" Slavery " and " Comteism."

Of the younger men my friend Henry Stewart
Macran is one of the ablest. I have already referred
to his " History of Greek Music."

The field of mathematics is not a flowery one, but
Robert Russell, F.T.C.D. has gained a world-wide
reputation in this particular branch of learning, and
one in which a name is made only amongst one's
peers.

One of the most amusing pranks ever played on
learned Fellows in T.C.D. was when an under-
graduate named Pococke wrote as a Prize Essay
a long rigmarole entitled, " Signs of the Times," with
obscure quotations from Browning, and without one
word of commonsense. This document, strange to
say, won a gold medal, which, however, the author
refused to accept.

In the Tercentenary .Year (1892) a handsome
volume was published, entitled, ' The Book of
Trinity College." It contained the text of a sermon
in which the following sentence occurred in reference
to King David's experiences : " With this retrospect
before him, the Psalmist," did so and so! So that
' The Book of Trinity College, Dublin," as is fitting,
is not without its fine specimen of an Irish Bull.

306

CHAPTER XXXIII

ONMIUM GATHERUM

The Irish Crossing Sweeper 1 A Generous Employer
John Murray, Governor of Mount Joy Prison
"Rattle yer Tins! "My Only Visible Means of
Support The Joys of Keeping Aquaria A Golden
Speech "No Bill for You, Sir !" William
Allingham the Poet A Lord Mayor of Dublin and
His Speech to the Ladies An Eccentric J.P.

A FRIEND to whom I incautiously mentioned that I
was engaged in writing my reminiscences, asked,
" What on earth are you writing a book for ?" I
replied, " for the same reason as that for which a
crossing sweeper in Ireland told me he swept a
crossing."

" And what reason was that ? " asked my obtuse
friend.

" I'll tell you," I replied. " He was sweeping a
crossing as clean as a new sixpence and insinuated
that I should give him a coin. I was in a bad
temper, and asked him, just as you have asked me,
' What on earth are you sweeping this clean crossing
for ? ' He answered, touching his hat most deferen-
tially, ' I'm only trying to earn my living, sir, if you
have no objection! ' I need scarcely say I searched

307

In Castle and Court House

for, found, and handed him a heavy and humble
coin."

" Are there any good stories in your book ? " asked
my friend.

" I cannot say," I said, " the tales are all true and
the result of my own experiences, judge from this
one. I was asked to preside at a Press Luncheon
by Messrs Abbott Bros., the big poultry people and
as I entered the room in the hotel in which the
luncheon was being held, the head waiter, a grey-
haired, solemn old man, somewhat like Mr Asquith
in appearance, approached me hurriedly and asked
me, * Are you Mr Abbott's father, sir ? ' ' My good
man,' said I, ' how can I tell you until I have seen
Mr Abbott?'

My friend did not care for the story and said
that Mr T. W. H. Crosland, the author of " The
Unspeakable Scott," and " Lovely Woman," told
better. I said, " I agree with you, but then Crosland
is a genius. There is one story he told me
which is unique, that in which he asked a butcher
who claimed to be literary because he wrote for
Answers and Comic Cuts what was his opinion
Did Bacon write Shakespeare ? ' Well,' answered
the butcher, ' if Bacon did not write Shakespeare,
he missed the biggest opportunity of his life ! '

When I was living in Dublin, and writing for
the press, while at the same time I was accountant
in the Ulster Bank, I received a letter from an official
in the Civil Service who occupied a very good

position, having at least ^1,000 a year, with house,

308

Omnium Gatherum

and fire and light. He wrote saying that his wife
had left for a visit to the country and that as it was
approaching Christmas he wished to give " the cook
and the washerwoman's little girl a treat, and asking
me to get him for them a couple of seats for the Panto-
mime at the Gaiety! After the lapse of twenty-four
hours, I replied, saying, " My dear So and So, I have
applied for seats, but Mr Hyland, the Manager at
the Gaiety, tells me he is booked up for weeks ahead.
However, he has placed the Royal Box at my
disposal, and I have much pleasure in placing it at
yours for the kindly object you have in view, but
please remember, evening dress is indispensable ! "

I need scarcely say that I heard nothing more
about the matter.

One of my earliest friends in Ireland was John
Murray, the Governor of Mount Joy Prison. I used
to dine with him in his private apartments, and on
one occasion was startled by hearing a tremendous
uproar in the yard below. He explained that some
of the cells had small windows looking out on this
yard, and one very refractory woman used her tin
drinking mug to bang on the window sill, at the
same time calling out to her fellow-prisoners in
reference to the Governor, " Rattle yer tins, ye Divils
ye, and kape ould Nero from sleepin'!" Such a
specimen of womanhood lived before her time. She
would be a valuable addition to-day to the ranks of
the Suffragettes!

Another friend whom I have known for many years
is Fred Mouillot, the actor manager. On one
occasion I was Mouillot's guest at a Savage Club

309

In Castle and Court House

dinner. Mouillot was staying at the Tavistock
Hotel, and having got into a hansom, he asked me
to tell the driver his address. I did so with the best
English accent I possessed at the moment, which I
fear must have been half-Scotch, for the driver
having gone a little distance shouted to his fare,
" What part of 'Averstock 'ill did you say, sir ? "

My friend A. C. Amoore one day astonished me
by presenting me with a very handsome walking
stick. As I could not understand his reason for so
doing, I inquired. He replied, " My only reason is
because I noticed that of late you have had no visible
means of support."

From a boy I have been addicted to keeping live
fish, beetles, water-snails, diving spiders, and other
interesting stock of a like nature. I had quite a
large number of aquaria, and, indeed, I still indulge
in this innocent recreation, having been, quite
recently, presented with a huge aquarium by Val
Prince, the well-known artist.

One night I was travelling homeward in the train,
and put a paper bag full of gentles and another of
mealy- worms in the hat rack. Tired out with my
day's work and being solus in a first class carriage,
I fell asleep and awoke twenty minutes later to find
two ladies gazing at me in a horror-stricken way. I
was covered with gentles! These innocent but
unpleasant-looking preludes to future blue-bottle
flies were crawling in dozens over my coat, and being
white while the coat was navy-blue, they were very

conspicuous indeed!

310

Omnium Gatherum

If people knew how interesting fish can be when
kept as pets, the keeping of aquaria would be a more
popular pastime. Fish and water-snails live such
placid lives, and to me their lives are so strongly
contrasted to my own stormy existence, that they
attract me very much indeed. Often when con-
templating the serenity of a snail, or the peaceful
life of a perch, I have been quite oblivious of being
in a work-a-day world! At such times the
peregrinations of a periwinkle have been to me more
deeply interesting than the platitudes of a Prime
Minister. The unruffled existence of a Ruffe has
made me long for a peace only rivalled by the peace
that passeth all understanding.

Silence is not always golden. Once with a Press
party travelling in the North of Ireland, we finished
our tour with a banquet at the Great Central Hotel,
Belfast. My brethren of the Pen asked me to
propose a vote of thanks to the combined railways,
the Midland of which Mr John Elliott was then a
Manager, and the Northern Counties Railway of
Ireland, which is now combined with the Midland.
I made a short speech to the best of my ability, saying
that the entente cordiale between England and
France would be nothing in comparison to the
entente cordiale between England and Ireland ; and
that in purchasing the Northern Counties Railway
the Midland had created a bond between England
and Ireland which ignorance and fanaticism would
be powerless to destroy, and which would bind the
sister countries closer day by day!

In Castle and Court House

Six months later I passed through Belfast and
put up at the Great Central Hotel. An hour after
I had booked, Mr Felstead the Manager met me and
said he remembered me on account of my " great
speech ! " I was so much pleased that I made the
Great Central my head-quarters for a week, and had
one or two supper parties. When leaving to catch
the 10.20 a.m. for Dublin, I asked to see Mr Felstead
to say " Good-bye." I was told he was out. " Well,"
I said, " I must go. Let me have my bill." The
reply was, " Mr Felstead left instructions no bill for
you, sir." I have been told quite recently that my
reputation as a speech-maker is still remembered at
the Great Central!

I had another very pleasant experience in Belfast.
Calling during a flying visit to see a friend, I found
the house shut up. After repeated knocking at the
door, two ladies appeared at the entrance to the
next house, and explained that my friend had gone
away for a few days. These ladies, hearing I had
come a long distance, insisted on my having some
tea, and were most kind and hospitable. I learned
with much pleasure that they were Mrs Faussett and
Mrs Allison, sisters of the Irish poet, William
Allingham.

A Lord Mayor of Dublin, who shall be nameless,
was asked at a drawing-room meeting of ladies to
preside and say a few words in favour of female
suffrage.

It was in the closing days of November, when

the term of office of the Lord Mayor was also coming

312

Omnium Gatherum

to a close at the end of the year. Dublin's Chief
Magistrate made a short speech in the course of
which he said, " I am glad to see so many ladies here
this evening, for the days of my morality are nearly

over."

A very amusing and erratic magistrate in the West
of Ireland used to make extraordinary statements
from the Bench. His views of men and things were
somewhat strange, as, for instance, when a man was
charged with drunkenness, he asked :

" Is he drunk now? "

"No, your worship," replied the astonished
constable.

" Then," said this modern Solomon, " for God's
sake let the poor man go ! "

And now my pleasant task is ended, and I must bid
farewell to those who have followed me thus far.
For the last nine years the scene of my labours has
been laid in London, that heart of " the weary Titan,"
to adopt Matthew Arnold's magnificent simile ; with
occasional excursions to Germany and elsewhere, all
of which have tended to make me believe with
Dr Johnson that he who is tired of London is tired
of life.

I am by no means tired of life, or of London.
" Stony-hearted Oxford Street," as De Quincey called
her, has been, to me " all a wonder and a wild
delight." En route for Southern Nigeria, I got as
far as London, and said " This is the place for me ! "
Existence has not been an unalloyed source of joy,

3i3

In Castle and Court House

but although I have had a more strenuous time than
these pages give any hint of, I can say with Landor's
old philosopher

Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art;
I warmed both hands before the fire of life

and, when it sinks, I shall " be ready to depart ! "

My life in England? Ah, as Rudyard Kipling says :
That's another story!

Index

ABERCORN, DUKE OF, 186
Abbott, F.T.C.D., Dr T. K.,305
a Beckett, Arthur, 300
A. E. (see George Russell)
Ainger, Canon, 225
Albani, Mme, 159
Alexander, George, 46, no
Alexander, John, 12
Allan, Mme Perceval, 150
Allingham, Wm., 312
Amoore, A. C., 310
Annaly, Lord, 257
Arditi, Signer, 155
Arnold, Matthew, 119, 177
Arnold, Thomas, 126
Ashbourne, Lady, 66
Ashbourne, Lord, 66, 85
Atkinson, Lord, 67, 71
Atkinson, Professor, 209, 305
Austin, Alfred, 85

BAILY, RT. HON. W. F., 163

Balfour, Right Hon. A. J., 16

Ball, Sir Robert, 144-145

Bapty, Walter, 160

Barlow, Jane, 255

Battersby, Wm., 150

Bazus, Baroness de, no, 114

Beaumont, Harry, 158

Bective College, 73

Beddoes, Thomas Lovell, 100,

103

Belfast News-Letter, 37
Bell, Professor David Charles,

144

Bell, George, 180
Bellew, Kyrle, 57, 59
Benedict, Sir Julius, 158
Benson, F. R.. 191

Bernard, D.D., Very Rev. J. H.>

209

Besant, Sir Walter, 19
Bewley, LL.D., Sir Edmund,

67
Birrell, Rt. Hon. Augustine,

213, 302

Bishpam, David, 159
Blundell, Mrs (see M. E.

Francis)

Blunt, W. Scawen, 24
Blyth, Lord, 184
Blyth, Henry Arthur, 184
Borne, Richard, 130
Bowker, James, 27
Brady, Sir Francis, 46
Brady, T.C., James, 69
Brooks, Helen, 160
Browning, E. B., 175, 232
Browning, Robert, 79-80, 89,

176. 240

Brown-Potter, Mrs, 57-59
Burke, M.P., E. Haviland, 163
Burnaby, Col. Fred, 100
Burns, Georgina, 158
Burroughs, John, 239
Burtchaell, George Dames, 74,

163-164, 169, 187
Burton, Sir Richard, 100
Bury, Professor J. B., 305
Bushe, K.C., Seymour, 73
Bussy, F. Moir, 210
Butt, Mme Clara, 159

CADOGAN, K.G., EARL, 50, 71
Caird, Sir James, 226
Callaghan, LL.D., A. J., 163
Cameron, C.B., Sir Chas. A.,
45, 182, 215

315

Index

Campbell, K.C., M.P., J. H.

M., 54-55, 67
Cansfield, John, 71
Carlyle, Thomas, 81, 99
Carman, Bliss, 235
Carmichael, D.D., Rev. Canon,

260
Carson, K.C., M.P., Sir

Edward, 67, 163
Carte, D'Oyly, 106, 131
Castletown, Lord, 186
Chamberlain, Col. Sir Neville,

Chatto & Windus, 88, 94
Chesterton, G. K., 146
Clay, R. Keating, 180
Clegg, J. R., 163, 165
Clough, Arthur Hugh, 80, 177
Cole, Prof. A. J. Grenville, 145
Coleridge, Hartley, 80-8 1, 103
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 76
Coll, Sir Patrick, 71
Colles, P.R.C.S.I., Abraham,

147-148

Colles, Alexander, 160
Colles, Christopher, 283 et seq.
Colles, Edward Richards Pure-

foy, 211

Colles, J.P., Edmund, 277
Colles, Henry J. Cope, 66
Colles, E. G. T., 291
Colles, LL.D., J.P., John

Mayne, 67
Colles, J.P., Richard, 73, 105,

226
Colles, P.R.C.S.I., William,

105, 148

Collette, Charles, 143
Collis, Maurice Henry, 150
Collisson, Mus.D., Rev. W.

Houston, 136

County Court

Cozens-Hardy, Lord Justice, 72
Craig, M.R.I. A., W, A, 43-44,

Crawley, LL.D., D.C.L., W. J.
Chetwode, 84-85, 181-182

Creegan, P.R.H.A., Martin, 148

Crosland, T. W. H., 308

Crotty, Leslie, 158

Cruise, Sir Francis, 305

Culverwell, F.T.C.D., Profes-
sor, 92

Culwick, Mus.D., Jas. C., 155-
156

Cunningham, M.D., Professor
D. J., 149

D'ALTON, MELFORT, 160

Darley, Miss Evelyn, 128

Darley, George, 101, 103, in,
128

Davitt, Michael, 50, 55

Decca, Mile, 159

De Groot, Sara, 201

De Lussan, Zehe, 159

Detchon, Adelaide, 143

De Quincey, Thomas, 75, 78

Deutsch, Max, 263

Devereux, Bt., Sir Walter, 279

Dickens, Jr., Charles, 126

Dixon, Professor Macneile, ia6

Dobson, Austin, 303

Dodd, Mr Justice, 55

Douglas, James, 100

Dowden, LL.D., D.C.L., Pro-
fessor Edward, 20, 41, 61,
63, 77, 80, 86, 88, 101, 107,
109, 118 et seq., 163

Doyle, Michael, 131, 132, 133

Dublin Daily Express, 32, .37,
163

ConnauhtH

.'Rj.

The Duke

DuU

Magazine,

' P eorge '
' Charles > '39

EDWARD VII., H.M. KING, 131,

oo an
Corbett, LL.b.fW. T., 256
Corbett, M.A., Rev. F. St. John,

.256
Corinthian Club, Dublin, 45- 292, 299

46, 57 Elliott. John, 311

Corngan, Sir Dominick, 214 i Ellis, M.P., John E., 226
Cotton, Wilfrid, 58 Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 75

Cowper, Earl, 40 I Ennis E. A., 69, 70, 71

316

Index

Esposito, Signer Michele, 160,

163

Evans-Jackson, J. E., 59
Exmouth, Viscount, 115, 228

FALKINER, SIR FREDERICK, 55,

Fawcett, Edgar, 24, 229, 240
Ferrers, Helen, 64
Fiske, John, 230
Fitzgerald, Mrs Penrose, 226
FitzGerald, Edward, 100, 174
Fitzgibbon, Dr Henry, 148
Fleming, Hugh, 59
Forshaw, Dr Charles, 293
Fortescue, May, 64, 126
Francis, Dr J. W., 288
Francis, M. E., 22
French, Percy, 136-137, 142,

163
Furniss, Harry, 190

GEORGE V., H.M. KING, 292,

299

Gamble, R.N., Major 134-135
Gamble, George, 253
Gardiner, Dr S. R., 203
Gibson, M.A., Rev. Canon T.

B., 181

Gilbey, Walter, 184
Gilbert, Lady, 22, 205
Gilbert, Sir John T., 162, 202

et seq.

Gilbert, Sir W. S., 188
Gill, H. M., 203
Gladstone, Wm. Ewart, 71, 92
Glover, J. M., 131
Gomez, Mme Alice, 159
Gonne, Maud, 50, 53-54-55-56
Gordon, Ella Mary, 293 et seq.
Gordon, M.P., John, 67
Gosse, LL.D., Edmund, 81, 120
Grace, Hon. W. R., 226
Graves, A. P., 226, 300
Graves, George, 241
Graves, Rev. R. P., 84, 86, 125
Gray, Thomas, 81, 168
Gregg, Frederick J., 23, 174
Green, Alice Stopford, 226
Greening & Co., 245, 253
Greville, Marie, 140-141
Griffin, M.D., Montagu, 127
Grossart, Dr Alex. B., 86, 176
Grossmith, George, 141-142

Grove, Sir George, 160
Grundy, Sydney, 137
Guibal, Francois, 140-141
Guedalla, Mrs Herbert, 65

HACKETT, LUCY ASHTON, 160
Hamilton, Edwin, 24, 47, 163

et seq., 188, 209, 217, 222
Hamilton, Sir W. Rowan, 84-85
Hammond, Thomas, 12
Hancock, Neilson, 73
Hancock, W. J., 74
Harding, Col. Colin, 296
Hardy, Thomas, 43
Harris, Dr Ernest W., 152
Harte, Bret, 171
Hartmann, Edouard von, 245
Harvey, Martin, 45-46
Haukj Minnie, 159
Haweis, Rev. R. H., 159-160
Hazlitt, W. Carew, 108, 244
Healy, Rev. Father, 215-216
Healy, J. B., 163
Healy, M.P., T. M., 73
Heard, Jr., Jonathan, 239
Henley, William Ernest, 173-

175

Henson, Medora, 159
Hickie, Michael, 28
Hill, Harrison, 142
Hinkson, Henry A., 21, 26, 80,

109
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 40,

240

Home, R. H., 21
Hotten, J. C., 94
Houghton, Lord, 87
Hovey, Richard, 25, 229, 234

et seq.

Hovey, Mrs R., 235
Howells, W. D., 229
Hugo, Victor, 89, 104
Hyde, Dr Douglas, 26
Hyland, Charles, 133, 309

INCHBOLD, J. W., 99
Ingram, Thomas Kells, 305
Irish Fireside, 20
Irish Literary Movement, 20, 42
Irish Monthly, 22, 27
Irish Times, 32, 163
Irish Unionist Alliance, 92
Irving, Sir Henry, 61-62, 64, 126
Ivatts, E. B., 226

317

Index

JAY, JOHN, 228

Jennings, Rev. John A., 144

[erome, Jerome K., 60

fohnson, Lionel, 43

foyce, Dr P. W., 206 et seq.

foze, Dr T. R. G., 160

KAVANAGH, A. MACMORRAGH,

237

Kavanagh, Rose, 20
Keenan, Sir Patrick Joseph, 257
Kelly, Charles, 160
Kelly, B.L., George, 163
Kelvin, Lord, 74
Kenny, M.D., Joseph, 149
Kenny, M.D., Robert, 149
Kennan & Sons, 149
Keogh, Philip, 71
Kettle, Andrew, n
King, Richard Ashe, 26
Kipling, Rudyard, 314
Kitchener, Lord, 182
Knott, M.D., John, 64-65, 151

LABLACHE, MME, 159

Lake, Fred, 241

Lamb, Charles, 168, 206

Landor, Walter Savage, 22, 75,

83, 89-90, 101, 117, 168, 207,

228, 242

Landor, Robert, 102
Lane, John, 107, 236, 239
Lang, Andrew, 91, 302
Langtry, Mrs, 107
Larminie, Wm., 174
Lauder, W. Harding, 186
Lawrence, Bt., Sir Henry

Hayes, 24
Lawless. M. J., 87
Lecky, M.P., W. E. H., 19, 28-

29-30, 36-37, 67, 226
Lecky, Mrs, 32-33
Leigh, Henry S., 167
Lentaigne, J. Nugent, 73
Lever, Charles, 148
Lewanika, King 296-297-298
Linton, Mrs Lynn, 76
Lisle, Leconte de, 120
Livingstone, Canon, 128
Livingstone, Hon. Mrs, 128
Longfellow, H. W., 232, 289
Lowell, James Russell, 25, 98,

177, 225, 232, 289

Lowry, J. M., 163, 1Q7, 217, tt

seq.

Lyster, M.A., T. W., 95
Lyttleton, Spencer, 71

MACRAN F.T.C.D., HENRY

Stewart, 23, 163, 306
Maddock, Simon, 135
Madden, Judge, 169
Mahaffy, F.T.C.D., Professor

J. P., 30, 85, 145, i6b, 209,

225, 227, 301-302
Mallet, Charles E., 226
Mallet, Sir Louis, 226
Malley, Herbert, 65
Mallon, J.P., John, 53
Manners, Charles, 160
Mathews, Elkin, 108-109
Matterson of Limerick, Mr, 46
Maunsell, J. Poole, 32, 163
Mein, W. Gordon, 116
Meredith, Mr Justice, 73
Meredith, LL.D., Sir James

Creed, 185-186
Meredith, George, 91, 103
Miller, Joaquin, no
Milton, John, 85
Monkshood, G. F., 253
Moody, Mme Fanny, 159
Moore, Frankfort, 65, 151
Moore, Thomas, 40, 42, 165
Morris, Lord, 215
Morris, William, 126, 172-173
Morley, Lord, 23
Morrow, LL.D., Forbes St.

John, 163

Mosher, T. B., 102
Mottelay, Paul Fleury, 243
Mouillot, Fred, 153, 201, 309
Moyers, LL.D., Sir George, 40,

45, 130

Mullen, Ben, 158
Mullen, Mme Adelaide, 158
Mullen, Jr., Ben, 158
Murphy, Macmorrough, 149
Myles, P.R.C.S.I., Sir Thomas,

148
MacCarthy. Dennis Florence,

41, 204

McDonnell, Dr Robert, 147
McGuckin, Barton, 160
Mclvor, James, 99
McNeill, M.P., Swift, 157
318

Index

NEGRONI, SIGNOR, 163
Neilson, Julia, 63-64
Nikita, Mme, 150
Noyes, Alfred, 103
Nutt, Alfred, 173. 230

O'BRIEN, CHARLOTTE GRACE,

O'Brien, Smith, 27
O'Donoghue, Dr Power, 159
O'Donoghue, Mrs Nannie

Power, 159
O'Duffy, L.D.S., R.C.S.I.,

John, 135, 165
O'Hagan, Lady, 226
O'Hea, John Fergus, 62
O'Leary, Ellen, 22
O'Leary, John, 22
O'Malley, M.P., William, 71
O'Mara, Joseph, 159
O'Neill, Henry, 109
O'Reilly, Henry, 287
Orczy, Baroness, 59
Ormsby, Sir Lambert Hepen-

stall, 150

Orr, Mrs Sutherland, 177
Osborne, Walter, 148
Osgood, Irene, 114-115-116
O'Shaughnessy, Tnos. L., 55

PAGE-THROWER, MRS, 160

Parke, Surgeon, 65

Parnell, Charles Stewart, 11, 16-

17, 139

Pater, Walter, 100, 120
Patterson, Dr Annie W., 156
Patti, Mme, 159
Patton, Dr, 32
Paul, Florence, 293
Payn, James, 26
Pellew, George, 23-24-25, 108,

226, et seq.

Penley, W. S., 46, 224
Perry, Lillah Cabot, 24, 98, 231
Perry, Thomas Sergeant, 24,

81, 98, 229
Piatt, J. J., 127, 232
Piatt, Sara, B., 127, 232
Piatt, Dom, 127
Piatt, Mrs Dom, 22, 128
Pile, James, 184
Pile, Bt., Sir T. Devereux, 50,

70, 184
Pococke, Rev. R., 283

Ponsonby, William, 173
Porter, Bt., Sir George, 151
Powis, Countess of, 74
Purser, A.R.H.A., Sara, 50
Purser, Professor John Mallet,

148
Purser, F.T.C.D., Professor

Louis Claude, 162, 209, 304
Pyper, W. S., 23

RAMSAY, F.C., 180

Ray, J. T., 181

Ranke, Louis von, 86

Rathmore, Lord, 29

Ravogli, Guilia^ 159

Rawnsley, Rev. Canon, 76-77

Reed, Sir Andrew, 45

Rees, Leonard, 104

Reeve, Ada, 58

Revy, Aurelie, 159

Richter, Dr Hans, 160

Robertson, Forbes, 58

Robinson v. Chic, Ltd., 71-72

Romer, Lord Justice, 72

Ross of Bladenburg, Sir John, 45

Ross, Mr Justice, 45, 73, 149-150

Ross, Robert, 109

Rossetti, W. M., 94

Rousby, Arthur, 158

Ruddock, James, 243

Rumford, Kennerly, 159

Russell of Killowen, Lord, 22,

205, 302

Russell (A. E.), George, 26, 174
Russell, S.J., Rev. Matthew, 22,

302

Russell, F.T.C.D., Robert, 306
Russell, M.P., T. W., 139

SADLER, HENRY, 179
Saintsbury, Professor George,

128, 174

Salmon, Provost, 42, 65, 301
Salmon, Miss, 42
Saltus, Edgar, 108, 229, 244 et

seq.

Samuel, Mme Clara, 155
Sandys, F., 91
Scott, Sir Walter, 78
Scott-ffennel, Mrs, 160
Schaffeur, Hermann, 239-240
Schopenhauer, Arthur, 245
Segrave & Stourton, Lord

Mowbray, 74

319

Index

Shaftesbury, Earl of, 182, 186
Sharp, William, 231, 246
Shaw, LL.D., George Ferdi-
nand, 62, 304
Shaw, G. Bernard, 2Q2
Shorter, Mrs C. K., 22, 128
Sidmouth, Viscount, 228
Sigerson, Dora (see Mrs

Shorter)
Sigerson, Dr George, 17, 26,

128

Simpson, Henry, 146
Skerrett, Rev. Father, 17-18
Sligo, Marquis of, 226
Smith, General John Corson,

187

Smyth. F.R.G.S., Alfred, 137
Snazelle, "The Only," 160
Southey, Robert, 75-76-77, 127
Spencer, Earl, 129
Stainer, Sir John, 295
Starkie, F.T.C.D., Wm., 304
Stephen, Sir Leslie, 170-171
Stephens, John Austin, 283
Stephens, "Sir" Davy, 129
Stewart, Sir David, 297
Stewart, Mus.D., Sir Robert,

42, 154-155

Stoker, Bram, 64-65, 151
Swinburne, Lady Jane, 82
Swinburne, A. C., 20, 25, 75, 81,

84, 86-87-88, 90, 101, 177,

241, 33

Symonds, John Addington, 97
Sullivan, Sir Arthur, 159

TAYLOR, SIR HENRY, 77, 87,

102, 144

Tavlor, Q.C., John F., 55
Telford, David, 153
Templetown, Viscount, 186
Tennyson, Alfred, 80, 87, 128
Tennyson, Lord, 128
Terry, Ellen, 62, 126
Terry, Edward, 45-46, 224
Thackeray, W. M., 73
Thompson, Professor James, 73
Tickell, George, 304
Tisdall, D.D., Rev. Chancellor,

46, 183

Tolstoy, Count Leo, 177-178
Traill, LL.D., Provost Anthony,

301

Traill, Major, R. G., 301
Tree, Sir Herbert, 63-64, 126
Tree, Lady, 63-64, 126
Traubel, Horace, 97
Twain, Mark, 130
Tweedy, Richard, 62
Tynan, Andrew, 22
Tynan, Katharine, 21-22, 25-26,

226

Tynte, Romola, 62-63
Tyrrell, Professor R. Yelver-
ton, 41, 163, 168, 302

VICTORIA, H.M. QUEEN, 48,

Si, 55

Vanbrugh, Irene, 46

Vaughan-Williams, Lord Jus-
tice, 72

Vezin, Hermann. 63

Vousden, Valentine, 138-139

WALLACE, DR ROBERTSON, 176
Walker, Bettina, 126
Ward, Mrs Humphry, 126
Warrington, Mr Justice, 72
Warwick, Lady, 63
Watts-Dunton, Theodore, 24,

87, 100-101-102-103-104
Watson, William, 119, 126
Webb, George, 31-32
Weekes, Charles, 174
Werner, Herr Theodore, 156
Whitbread, W. J., 136
Whitman, Walt, 25, 94, 97, 119,

173-174, 304

Wilbour, Hon. Joshua, 127
Wilde, Oscar, 105-106, 108
Wilde, Willy, 1 10
Wilde (Speranza), Lady, in
Williams, Mrs Orr, 64
Wilkins, William. 258
Wordsworth, William, 24, 75,

.78, 80, 86, 176, 178, 202
Wright, Mr Justice, 29-30, 37
Wright, Thomas, 100
Wynne, Frances, 23

YARBOROUGH, COUNTESS OF, 74
Yeats, W. B., 20-21, 23, 126,
i74, 241

ZETLAND, MARCHIONESS OF, 74

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