Eighteenth Century Waifs

And broke half the pitcher she had in her hand.

In Hammersmith’s parish I stopp’d for a minute;
A stage-coach here halted – I saw who was in it,
A grave-looking man with a long nose and chin,
Two sparks and three damsels were laughing within;
The outside was crowded, good Lord! what a rabble!
Some Cits from Fleet Market, some Jews from Whitechapel,
Some sailors from Wapping, and other such crew;
But now in the basket[29 - A large wickerwork receptacle behind the mail-coach.] I took a short view,
Two wenches, one jolly, the other but lean,
With barrels of oysters and shrimp-sacks between.
The spirited coachman, o’ercharg’d with stout ale,
When he started, drove faster than Palmer’s[30 - Palmer invented the mail-coach, and supplied horses to the Post-Office.] new mail;
He smack’d his long whip – and zounds! what a flight!
His six horses running were soon out of sight;
A lad standing by, cried (as if in a swoon),
‘By Jove! they fly up like Lunardi’s[31 - Lunardi made the first balloon ascent in England, Sept. 21, 1784.] balloon.’

Much pleas’d with my path when I march’d on apace,
I reach’d Turnham Green; on that sweet rural place
I stopp’d at an inn near a lane down to Chiswick,
I call’d for some ale, but it tasted like physick.
As good luck would have it, I could not drink more,
When, seeing Jack Tar and his wife at the door,
Join’d close arm-in-arm like a hook on a link,
I reach’d him my mug and invited to drink;
Jack, pleased with the draught, gave me thanks with an echo,
And cramm’d in his jaw a large quid of tobacco.

Again I set off on my way to Kew Bridge,
Some boys and some girls came from under a hedge;
They jump’d and they tumbled headforemost around,
Each vied with the other to measure the ground;
For halfpence they begg’d, and I gave ’em a penny,
When I found that I’d left myself without any
To pay toll at the bridge and to buy a few plumbs;
My silver I chang’d for a handful of Brums.[32 - Birmingham halfpence, struck by Boulton and Watts at their works at Soho, Birmingham.]
But, my sight being struck with the beauty of Kew,
I forgot my expenses, when, having in view
The new Royal Bridge[33 - Kew Bridge was opened to the public, September, 1789.] and its elegant Arches
There o’er the bright Thames, where the people in barges
And pleasure-boats sail! – how delightful the scene!
‘Twixt the shades of Old Brentford and smiling Kew Green.

Now forward for Richmond, and happy my lot!
I soon reach’d that lofty and beautiful spot
Which is called Richmond Hill – what a prospect amazing!
Extensive and pleasant; I could not help gazing
On yonder fine landscape of Twick’nam’s sweet plains,
Where kind Nature its thousandfold beauty maintains.
To trace all its pleasures too short was the day;
The dinner-bell ringing, I hasten’d away
To a cheerful repast at a Gentleman’s seat,
Whose friendship vouchsaf’d me a happy retreat.

GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD,

COMMONLY CALLED ‘FIGHTING FITZGERALD.’

Should anyone wish for a graphic account of Irish life in the later portion of the eighteenth century, he should read Sir Jonah Barrington’s ‘Personal Sketches of Ireland,’ and he will find afterwards that Lever’s novels afford but a faint reflection of the manners and customs existing in the west and south of Ireland. Ignorance, idleness, and dissipation were the characteristic of the wealthier classes, and a meeting of the ‘gentry’ could seldom take place without quarrelling and bloodshed. At races, fairs, and elections, the lower class enjoyed themselves likewise, after their kind, in breaking of heads and drunkenness. It was a singular state of things, but it must be borne in mind, whilst reading the following memoirs, as, otherwise, the facts therein related would scarcely be credited.[34 - Some idea of the duelling that went on in Ireland in the latter part of last century may be gathered from the following extract from Sir Jonah’s book (vol. ii, p. 3): ‘I think I may challenge any country in Europe to show such an assemblage of gallant judicial and official antagonists at fire and sword as is exhibited even in the following list:The Lord Chancellor of Ireland, Earl Clare, fought the Master of the Rolls, Curran.The Chief Justice, K.B. Lord Clonmell, fought Lord Tyrawley (a privy counsellor), Lord Llandaff, and two others.The judge of the county of Dublin, Egan, fought the Master of the Rolls, Roger Barrett, and three others.The Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Right Hon. Isaac Corry, fought the Right Hon. Henry Grattan (a privy counsellor), and another.A Baron of the Exchequer, Baron Medge, fought his brother-in-law and two others.The Chief Justice, C. P. Lord Norbury, fought Fire-eater Fitzgerald and two other gentlemen, and frightened Napper Tandy, and several besides: one hit only.The judge of the Prerogative Court, Dr. Dingenan, fought one barrister and frightened another on the ground. N.B. – The latter case a curious one.The Chief Counsel to the Revenue, Henry Deane Grady, fought Counsellor O’Mahon, Counsellor Campbell, and others: all hits.The Master of the Rolls fought Lord Buckinghamshire, the Chief Secretary, &c.The provost of the University of Dublin, the Right Hon. Hely Hutchinson, fought Mr. Doyle, Master in Chancery, and some others.The Chief Justice C. P. Patterson, fought three country gentlemen, one of them with swords, another with guns, and wounded all of them.The Right Hon. George Ogle (a privy counsellor) fought Barney Coyle, a distiller, because he was a Papist. They fired eight shots, and no hit; but the second broke his own arm.Thomas Wallace, K.C., fought Mr. O’Gorman, the Catholic Secretary.Counsellor O’Connell fought the Orange chieftain; fatal to the champion of Protestant ascendency.The collector of the customs of Dublin, the Hon. Francis Hutchinson, fought the Right Hon. Lord Mountmorris.Two hundred and twenty-seven memorable and official duels have actually been fought during my grand climacteric.]

The Fitzgeralds of County Mayo come of an ancient stock, from no less than the great Geraldine family, through the Desmond branch, and George, the father of George Robert Fitzgerald, had a very good property at Turlough, near Castlebar. It probably had some influence in his future career that ‘Fighting Fitzgerald’ should have had for his mother Lady Mary Hervey, who had been maid-of-honour to the Princess Amelia, and who was the daughter of one, and the sister of two, Earls of Bristol. The family from which she sprang was noted for eccentricity, so much so, that it passed into a saying that ‘God made Men, Women, and Herveys.’ She did not live long with her husband, his lax morality and dissipated manners could not be borne, and she left him to his own devices and returned to England. By him she had two sons, George Robert (born 1749), and Charles Lionel. The elder, in due time, was sent to Eton, where he seems to have learnt as much Latin and Greek as was requisite for a gentleman of those days, and he used occasionally in after life to write a little poetry now and again, of which one piece, ‘The Riddle,’ was printed after his execution.

From Eton he, in 1766, being then in his seventeenth year, was gazetted to a lieutenancy in the 69th regiment, and was quartered at Galway, a nice place for a newly-emancipated schoolboy, and a red-hot, wild Irishman to boot. Here he soon got into a scrape, owing to his conduct with a shop-girl, which ended in a duel, in which neither the combatants were hurt. He next managed to pick a quarrel with a young officer of his own regiment, named Thompson, who was a quiet and inoffensive man, and they met. The first round was fired by both without injury, but Lieutenant Thompson’s second bullet struck Fitzgerald’s forehead, and he fell. The surgeons, after examination, came to the conclusion that the only way to save his life was by performing upon him the operation of trepanning, or cutting a round piece out of the skull in order to relieve the pressure on the brain. It was an operation that was very risky, but in this case it was successful. Still, one cannot help thinking, judging by his after career, that his brain then received some permanent injury which deprived him of the power of reasoning, and of control over his actions.

He now left the army, and went home to live with his father. Here he lived the regular Irishman’s life of the period: hunting, shooting, cock-fighting, &c., until he fell in love with a lady of good family, a Miss Conolly of Castletown; but even here he could not act as other men do. He could not be married quietly, but ran away with his bride, and an incident in their elopement is amusingly told, it being put in the mouth of his servant.

‘But hoo did the Captain mak’ it up again wi’ the Square? Ye omadhaun, it was with the young misthress he med it up; and she took Frinch lave with him, wan fine moonlight night soon afther. It was mysel’ that had the chaise an’ four waitin’ for them; an’ a divilish good thing happened at the first inn we stopt at. The Captain in coorse ordhered the best dhrawin’-room for the misthress; an’ sure, if it was goold, she was worthy ov it. But the beggarly-lookin’ waither sed it was taken up with some grand Englishmen.

‘“Request thim,” sis the Captain, “to accommodate a lady that’s fatigued, with the apartment.”

‘Well an’ good, the waither delivered the message, when one of the Englishers roars out, “Damn the fellow’s cursed insolence, we shan’t give up the room to any rascal.”

‘“Here,” sis one of thim, “show Paddy this watch, an’ ax him to tell what o’clock it is.”

‘So the waither brings the watch with the message in to where the Captain and mysel’ was – the misthress had gone with her maid to another room to change her dhress.

‘“Very well,” sis the Captain, “I think I can show them what o’clock it is.” So he dhraws his soord, and puts the point through his chain; “Channor,” thin says he to me, “attend me.”

‘With that we went in among them, an’ the Captain sthretched over the watch at the sword’s point to ache of them, beggin’, with a polite bow, to know to which o’ thim it belonged. But little notions, ye may swair, they had ov ownin’ it theirs. Every wan o’ the cowardly rascals swore it did not belong to himsel’!

‘“Oh, I was thinkin’, jintlemen, it was all a bit ov a mistake,” sis the Captain, “so I think you must have it, Channor, for want of a betther owner.” So with that he hands it over to mysel’. It was a fine goold watch, an’ here I have it still.’

Not only was young Mrs. Fitzgerald reconciled to her relations, but an arrangement was made with old Fitzgerald that, on payment of a certain sum of money down, he would give his son a rent charge of £1,000 a year on his estate, and he had a very handsome fortune with his wife besides.

The young couple thereupon went to France, and, having introductions to the best society in Paris, enjoyed themselves immensely. He dressed splendidly, and he astonished the Parisians, who asked each other, ‘Qui est ce seigneur? d’où vient il? Il n’est pas Français, – Quelle magnificence! Quelle politesse! Est-il possible qu’il soit étranger?’ In his hat he wore diamonds, and the same precious stones adorned his buckles and his sword-knot; indeed, all through his life he was fond of such gewgaws, and when his house at Turlough was wrecked by the mob – no one preventing – he estimated his loss in jewellery, &c., at £20,000. They must have been costly, for he enumerates among the stolen collection: ‘A casquet containing a complete set of diamond vest buttons, two large emeralds, a hat-band with five or six rows of Oriental pearls, worth £1,500, a large engraved amethyst, a gold watch and chain studded with diamonds, several other gold watches and seals, a great number of antique and modern rings, gold shoe and knee buckles, silver shaving apparatus, several pairs of silver shoe and knee buckles, with £6,300 worth of other jewels.’

He joined eagerly in the dissipations of the gay French capital, especially in gaming, and the twenty thousand pounds he had with his wife soon came to an end; and among other people to whom he was in debt was the Comte d’Artois, afterwards Charles X., to whom he owed three thousand pounds. One evening afterwards he offered a bet of one thousand pounds on the prince’s hand of cards, which the Comte d’Artois overhearing, he asked Fitzgerald for payment, and, being told that it was not then convenient, the prince took the Irishman by the arm, led him to the top of the stairs, and then, giving him one kick, left him to get downstairs as quickly as he could. This indignity was one which it was very hard on the hot-blooded Irishman to be obliged to endure, for he might not challenge with impunity a prince of the blood, and from the public nature of the insult he naturally lost his place in society. It was certain he must leave France; but before he left he must somehow distinguish himself. And he did it in this wise. The king was hunting at Fontainebleau, and Fitzgerald, regardless of the etiquette which always allowed the foremost place to the king and royal family, took the hunting of the pack upon himself, riding close to the hounds, cheering and encouraging them. But for some time the stag kept well in the open, and gave Fitzgerald no opportunity of showing off his horsemanship, until it suddenly turned off towards the river Seine, on the banks of which a wall had been built. This it leaped, and, to use a hunting phrase, ‘took soil’ in the river. Over streamed the hounds, and over flew Fitzgerald, reckless of a drop of fourteen feet on the other side, going plump into the river. The hunt stopped at that wall, none daring to take it, and watched with amazement Fitzgerald emerge, his feet still in the stirrups, and, swimming the river, climb the opposite bank and ride away.

He went to London, where he was well received in society, notwithstanding that his fame as a duellist was well known, he having fought eleven duels by the time he was twenty-four years of age. Whether it was then that he forced his way into Brookes’ Club I know not, but it is certain that he did, and as I cannot tell the story as well as it is told in that most amusing but anonymously written book, ‘The Clubs of London,’ I extract it.

‘Fitzgerald having once applied to Admiral Keith Stewart to propose him as a candidate for “Brookes’s,” the worthy admiral, well knowing that he must either fight or comply with his request, chose the latter alternative. Accordingly, on the night in which the balloting was to take place (which was only a mere form in this case, for even Keith Stewart himself had resolved to black-ball him), the duellist accompanied the gallant admiral to St. James’s Street, and waited in the room below, whilst the suffrages were taken, in order to know the issue.

‘The ballot was soon over, for without hesitation every member threw in a black ball, and, when the scrutiny took place, the company were not a little amazed to find not even one white one among the number. However, the point of rejection being carried nem. con., the grand affair now was as to which of the members had the hardihood to announce the same to the expectant candidate. No one would undertake the office, for the announcement was sure to produce a challenge, and a duel with Fighting Fitzgerald had in almost every case been fatal to his opponent. The general opinion, however, was that the proposer, Admiral Stewart, should convey the intelligence, and that in as polite terms as possible; but the admiral, who was certainly on all proper occasions a very gallant officer, was not inclined to go on any such embassy.

‘“No, gentlemen,” said he; “I proposed the fellow because I knew you would not admit him; but, by G – d, I have no inclination to risk my life against that of a madman.”

‘“But, admiral,” replied the Duke of Devonshire, “there being no white ball in the box, he must know that you have black-balled him as well as the rest, and he is sure to call you out, at all events.”