Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 2 (of 3)

Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 2 (of 3)
Jonah Barrington

Jonah Barrington

Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 2 (of 3)

THE FIRE-EATERS

Passion for duelling in Ireland – Ancient duel before the judges and law authorities, &c. &c. at the Castle of Dublin – List of official and judicial duellists in author’s time – Family weapons described – The Fire-eaters’ Society – Their chiefs – Elegant institution of the Knights of Tara – Description of them – Their exhibitions and meetings – The rules of duelling and points of honour established by the fire-eaters, called the Thirty-six Commandments – Singular duel between the author and Mr. Richard Daley, a remarkable duellist and fop – Daley hit – Author’s second the celebrated Balloon Crosby – His singular appearance and character.

It may be objected that anecdotes of duelling have more than their due proportion of space in these sketches, and that no writer should publish feats of that nature (if feats they can be called), especially when performed by persons holding grave offices, or by public functionaries. These are very plausible, rational observations, and are now anticipated for the purpose of being answered.

It might be considered a sufficient excuse, that these anecdotes refer to events long past; that they are amusing, and the more so as being matters of fact, (neither romance nor exaggeration,) and so various that no two of them are at all similar. But a better reason can be given; – namely, that there is no other species of detail or anecdote which so clearly illustrates the character, genius, and manners of a country, as that which exemplifies the distinguishing propensities of its population for successive ages. Much knowledge of a people will necessarily be gained by possessing such a series of anecdotes, and by then going on to trace the decline of such propensities to the progress of civilization in that class of society where they had been prevalent.

As to the objection founded on the rank or profession of the parties concerned, it is only necessary to subjoin the following short abstract from a long list of official duellists who have figured away in my time, and some of them before my eyes. – The number of grave personages who appear to have adopted the national taste, (though in most instances it was undoubtedly before their elevation to the bench that they signalised themselves in single combat,) removes from me all imputation of pitching upon and exposing an unusual frailty; and 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.[1 - Single combat was formerly a very prevalent and favourite mode of administering justice in Ireland; the letter of that law existed in England; and, not being considered so brutal as bullfights, or other beastly amusements of that nature, it was legally authorised, and frequently performed before the high authorities and their ladies, in the castle-yard of Dublin; —bishops, judges, and other persons of high office, generally honouring the spectacle with their presence.The last exhibition of that nature I have read of was between two Irish gentlemen, Connor Mac Cormac O’Connor, and Teige Mac Kilpatrick O’Connor. They fought with broadswords and skeens (large knives), in the castle of Dublin, in the presence of the archbishop and all the chief authorities and ladies of rank. They had hewed each other for a full hour, when Mr. Mac Kilpatrick O’Connor happening to miss his footing, Mr. Mac Cormac O’Connor began to cut his head off very expertly with his knife; which, after a good deal of cutting, struggling, and hacking, he was at length so fortunate as to effect; and, having got the head clear off the shoulders, he handed it to the lords justices (who were present), and by whom the head and neck was most graciously received.]

Earl Clare, Lord Chancellor of Ireland, fought the Master of the Rolls, the Right Honourable John Philpot Curran, with twelve-inch pistols.

The Earl of Clonmell, Chief Justice of the King’s Bench, fought Lord Tyrawly, about his wife, and the Earl Landaff, about his sister; and others, with sword or pistol, on miscellaneous subjects.

The Judge of the County of Dublin, Egan, fought the Master of the Rolls, Roger Barrett,[2 - On the duel between Judge Egan and Counsellor Roger Barret a curious incident occurred, of hackneyed celebrity, but very illustrative of that volatile eccentricity with which the gravest events were frequently accompanied in that country.On the combatants taking their ground (secundum consuetudinem), Roger (who was the challenger) immediately fired without much aim, and missing his antagonist, coolly said, “Egan, now my honour is satisfied,” and began to walk away with great stateliness and composure.The judge, however, (who had not fired,) cried aloud, “Hulloa, Roger – hulloa! – stop – stop, Roger; come back here; stay till I take a shot at your honour!”Roger obeyed; and with the same composure cried out, “Very well, fire away, Jack.”Egan presented, and seemed by his motions determined to finish Roger: – at length he cried out, “Pho! pho! I won’t humour you, by G – d! I wouldn’t be bothered shooting you, Roger! – so now you may go to the devil your own road; or shake hands, whichever you like best.”The finale may be anticipated. This circumstance is truly Irish; it took place on the site of Donnybrook fair, and some hundreds of amateurs were present.] and three others; one with swords.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Right Honourable Isaac Corry, fought the Right Honourable Henry Grattan, a privy counsellor, and the chancellor was hit. He also exchanged shots or thrusts with two other gentlemen.

A baron of the exchequer, Baron Medge, fought his brother-in-law and two others – a hit.

The Chief Justice, C. P., Lord Norbury, fought Fire-eater Fitzgerald, and two other gentlemen, muzzle to muzzle, and frightened Napper Tandy and several besides: one hit only. – Napper was near being hanged for running away!

The Judge of the Prerogative Court, Doctor Duigenan, fought one barrister and frightened another on the ground. – The latter case a very curious one.

The First Counsel to the Revenue, Henry Deane Grady, Esq., K. C., fought Counsellor O’Maher, Counsellor Campbell, and others: – very stout work.

The Right Honourable the Master of the Rolls fought Lord Buckinghamshire, (Chief Secretary, &c.) because he would not dismiss an official person.

The Provost of the University of Dublin, the Right Honourable Hely Hutchinson, fought Mr. Doyle, master in Chancery: they went to the plains of Minden to fight!

N.B. The spirit of the Hutchinson family was proverbial, and their good nature was no less so.

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 Honourable George Ogle, the Orange chieftain, a privy counsellor, fought Barny Coyle, a whiskey distiller, because he was a papist. – They fired eight shots without stop or stay, and no hit occurred: but Mr. Ogle’s second broke his own arm by tumbling into a potatoe-trench.

Sir Harding Gifford, late Chief Justice of Ceylon, fought the rebel General Bagenal Harvey at a place called the Scalp, near Dublin. The Chief Justice received a severe, but very odd wound. – He eventually, however, suffered no important injury.

Counsellor Dan O’Connell fought the Orange chieftain, who had been halloo’d at him by the corporation. The champion of Protestant ascendancy never rose to fight again.

The Collector of the Customs of Dublin, the Honourable Francis Hutchinson, fought the Right Honourable Lord Mountnorris: – a hit. Cum multis aliis quæ nunc enumerare longum est.

The reader of this dignified list (which, as I have said, is only a very short abridgment[3 - Two hundred and twenty-seven memorable duels have actually been fought during my grand climacteric.]) will surely see no great indecorum in an Admiralty Judge having now and then, when required so to do, exchanged broadsides, more especially as they did not militate against the law of nations, and no ghost was the consequence.

However, it must be owned that there were occasionally peaceable and forgiving instances among the barristers. – A brave, thrice-proven, but certainly capricious individual, Mr. Curran, was whipped by a very savage nobleman, Lord Clanmorris; and another eminent barrister was said to have had his eye saluted by a messenger from a gentleman’s lips in the body of the House of Commons. – Yet both those little incivilities were arranged very amicably, and without the aid of any deadly weapon whatsoever, I suppose for variety’s sake. But the people of Dublin used to observe, that a judgment came upon Counsellor O’Callaghan, for having kept his friend, Mr. Curran, quiet in the horse-whipping affair, inasmuch as his own brains were literally scattered about the ground by a Galway attorney very soon after he had turned pacificator.

To speak after the manner of a Bulletin: – “In my time, the number of killed and wounded among the bar was very considerable. – The other learned professions suffered much less.”

It is nearly incredible what a singular passion the Irish gentlemen (though in general excellent-tempered fellows) formerly had for fighting each other and immediately becoming friends again. A duel was indeed considered a necessary piece of a young man’s education, but by no means a ground for any future animosity with his opponent: – on the contrary, proving the bravery of both, it only cemented their friendship.

One of the most humane men existing, an intimate friend of mine, and a prominent and benevolent public character, but who (as the expression then was) had frequently played both “hilt to hilt” and “muzzle to muzzle,” in desperate rencontres, was heard endeavouring to keep a little son of his quiet who was crying for something: – “Come, now, do be a good boy! Come, now,” said my friend, “don’t cry, and I’ll give you a case of nice little pistols to-morrow. Come, now, don’t cry, and we’ll shoot them all in the morning.” – “Oh, yes! yes! papa! we’ll shoot them all in the morning!” responded the child, drying his little eyes and delighted at the notion.

I have heard Sir Charles Ormsby, who affected to be a wit, though at best but a humourist and gourmand, liken the story of my friend and his son to a butcher at Nenagh, who in a similar manner wanted to keep his son from crying, and effectually stopped his tears by saying, – “Come, now, be a good boy! don’t cry, and you shall kill a lamb to-morrow! now, won’t you be good?” – “Oh yes, yes,” said the child, sobbing; “Father, is the lamb ready?”

Within my recollection, this national relish for fighting was nearly universal, – originating (I think) in the spirit and habits of former times. When men had a glowing ambition to excel in all manner of feats and exercises, as their forefathers had done, they naturally conceived that single combat in an honest way (that is, not knowing which would be perforated) was the most chivalrous and gentlemanly of all possible accomplishments; and this idea gave rise to an assiduous cultivation of personal tactics, and dictated laws for carrying them into execution with regularity, honour, and dispatch, among the nobility and gentry of that punctilious nation.

About the year 1777, Fire-eating was in great repute in Ireland. No young fellow could finish his education till he had exchanged shots with some of his friends or acquaintances. The first questions asked as to a young man’s respectability and qualifications (particularly when he proposed for a lady-wife) were, “What family is he of?” – “Did he ever blaze?” – His fortune was then the last inquiry; because the reply was seldom satisfactory.

Tipperary and Galway were the ablest schools of the duelling science. Galway was most scientific at the sword: Tipperary most practical and prized at the pistol: Mayo not amiss at either: Roscommon and Sligo had many professors and a high reputation in the leaden branch of the pastime.

When I was at the university, Jemmy Keogh, Buck English,[4 - The celebrated Buck English was expelled for killing by foul play, and had like to be hanged. The “Fire-eaters” outlawed him. – Foul play was never known to occur in that society – save in this instance. English was saved, on his trial, by one juror holding out against his eleven brethren: – however, as they could not agree, Baron Hamilton ordered them all to be packed in turf kishes, conveyed on cars to the boundary of the county, twenty-seven miles off, and there discharged on foot. At the ensuing assizes all the witnesses against English were duly disposed of – none appeared – and he was acquitted of course.] Cosey Harrison, Crowe Ryan, Reddy Long, Amby Bodkin, Squire Fulton, Squire Blake, Amby Fitzgerald, Terry Magrath, and some others, were supposed to understand the points of honour better than any men in Ireland, and were constantly referred to. – Terry Magrath especially was counted a very good opinion.

In the North, the Fallons and the Fentons were the first hands at it; and most counties could then boast their regular point-of-honour men. The late chief justice of the common pleas was supposed to understand the thing as well as any gentleman in Ireland, and was frequently referred to by the high circles.

In truth, these oracles were in general gentlemen of good connexions[5 - There was an association in the year 1782, (a volunteer corps) which was called the “Independent Light Horse.” They were not confined to one district, and none could be admitted but the younger brothers of the most respectable families. They were all both “hilt and muzzle adepts;” – and, that no member might set himself up as greater than another, every individual of the corps was obliged, on entering, to give his honour “that he could cover his fortune with the crown of his hat, and had exchanged a shot or thrust before he was ballotted for.”Roscommon and Sligo then furnished some of the finest young fellows (fire-eaters) I ever saw: their spirit and decorum were equally admirable, and their honour and liberality conspicuous on all occasions.] and most respectable families, otherwise nobody would either fight or consult them.

Every family had then a case of hereditary pistols, which descended as an heir-loom, together with a long silver-hilted sword, for the use of their posterity. Our family pistols, denominated pelters, were brass (I believe my second brother has them still): the barrels were very long and point-blankers. They were included in the armoury of our ancient castle of Ballynakill in the reign of Elizabeth, (the stocks, locks, and hair-triggers were, however, modern,) and had descended from father to son from that period: one of them was named “sweet lips,” the other “the darling.” The family rapier was called “skiver the pullet” by my grand-uncle, Captain Wheeler Barrington, who had fought with it repeatedly and run through different parts of their persons several Scots officers, who had challenged him all at once for some national reflection. It was a very long, narrow-bladed, straight cut-and-thrust, as sharp as a razor, with a silver hilt, and a guard of buff leather inside it. I kept this rapier as a curiosity for some time; but it was stolen during my absence at Temple.

I knew Jemmy Keogh extremely well, when he was pretty old. He was considered in the main a peace-maker, for he did not like any body to fight but himself; and it was universally admitted that he never killed any man who did not well deserve it. He was a plausible, although black-looking fellow, with remarkably thick, long, curled eyebrows closing with a tuft over his nose. He spoke deliberately, reasoned well, and never showed passion. When determined to fight, his brows knit, his eyes fixed, and (as an antagonist) he cut a very unprepossessing figure. I never heard that he was wounded. When he tried to restrain his anger, he set his teeth, kept his tongue a close prisoner, and appeared like one with a locked jaw. No man was more universally known in Ireland. He unfortunately shot a cripple in the Phœnix Park, which, though fair enough, did him great mischief. He was land-agent to Bourke of Glinsk, to whom he always officiated as second.

At length, so many quarrels arose without sufficiently dignified provocation, and so many things were considered as quarrels of course, which were not quarrels at all, – that the principal fire-eaters of the South clearly saw disrepute was likely to be thrown both on the science and its professors, and thought it full time to interfere and arrange matters upon a proper, steady, rational, and moderate footing; and to regulate the time, place, and other circumstances of duelling, so as to govern all Ireland on one principle – thus establishing a uniform, national code of the lex pugnandi; proving, as Hugo Grotius did, that it was for the benefit of all belligerents to adopt the same regulations.

In furtherance of this object, a branch society had been formed in Dublin termed the “Knights of Tara,” which met once a month at the theatre, Capel-street, gave premiums for fencing, and proceeded in the most laudably systematic manner. The amount of admission-money was laid out on silver cups, and given to the best fencers, as prizes, at quarterly exhibitions of pupils and amateurs.

Fencing with the small-sword is certainly a most beautiful and noble exercise: its practice confers a fine, bold, manly carriage, a dignified mien, a firm step, and graceful motion. But, alas! its professors are now supplanted by contemptible groups of smirking quadrillers with unweaponed belts, stuffed breasts, and strangled loins! – a set of squeaking dandies, whose sex may be readily mistaken, or, I should rather say, is of no consequence.

The theatre of the Knights of Tara, on these occasions, was always overflowing: – the combatants were dressed in close cambric jackets, garnished with ribbons, each wearing the favourite colour of his fair one: bunches of ribbons also dangled at their knees, and roses adorned their morocco slippers, which had buff soles, to prevent noise in their lunges. No masks or visors were used as in these more timorous times; on the contrary, every feature was uncovered, and its inflections all visible. The ladies appeared in full morning dresses, each handing his foil to her champion for the day, and their presence animating the singular exhibition. The prizes were handed to the conquerors by the fair ones from the stage-boxes, accompanied each with a wreath of laurel, and a smile then more valued than a hundred victories! The tips of the foils were blackened, and therefore instantly betrayed the hits on the cambric jacket, and proclaimed without doubt the successful combatant. All was decorum, gallantry, spirit, and good temper.

The Knights of Tara also had a select committee to decide on all actual questions of honour referred to them: – to reconcile differences, if possible; if not, to adjust the terms and continuance of single combat. Doubtful points were solved generally on the peaceable side, provided women were not insulted or defamed; but when that was the case, the knights were obdurate, and blood must be seen. They were constituted by ballot, something in the manner of the Jockey Club; but without the possibility of being dishonourable, or the opportunity of cheating each other.

This most agreeable and useful association did not last above two or three years. I cannot tell why it broke up: I rather think, however, the original fire-eaters thought it frivolous, or did not like their own ascendancy to be rivalled. It was said that they threatened direct hostilities against the knights; and I am the more disposed to believe this, because, soon after, a comprehensive code of the laws and points of honour was issued from the Southern fire-eaters, with directions that it should be strictly observed by all gentlemen throughout the kingdom, and kept in their pistol-cases, that ignorance might never be pleaded. This code was not circulated in print, but very numerous written copies were sent to the different county clubs, &c. My father got one for his sons; and I transcribed most of it on some blank leaves. These rules brought the whole business of duelling into a focus, and have been much acted upon down to the present day. They called them in Galway “the thirty-six commandments.”

As far as my copy went, they appear to have run as follows: —

The practice of duelling and points of honour settled at Clonmell summer assizes, 1775, by the gentlemen delegates of Tipperary, Galway, Mayo, Sligo, and Roscommon, and prescribed for general adoption throughout Ireland.

Rule 1

The first offence requires the first apology, though the retort may have been more offensive than the insult: example; – A tells B he is impertinent, &c. B retorts, that he lies: yet A must make the first apology, because he gave the first offence, and then (after one fire) B may explain away the retort by subsequent apology.

Rule 2

But if the parties would rather fight on, then, after two shots each, (but in no case before,) B may explain first, and A apologise afterwards.