OWEN- MADDEN'S REVELATIONS OF IRELAND.
THE author of the smart, forcible, and rather interesting series called Ireland and its Rulers, as well as of some other political publications with similar characteristics, has been engaged in collecting materials for a history of Ireland since the Union. "A variety of very curious matter has accumulated on his hands," but of too personal, local, or anecdotieal a nature to be available in a history of public affairs. Following the idea of Rousseau, Mr. Owen-Madden considers that men engaged in his- torical actions are generally actors, as much prepared to perform a part as the player on the stage. In some sense this is truer but it is equally true of people engaged in all other business. The lawyer in his office, the shopkeeper behind his counter, or the footman in waiting, is as little like his individual self as any statesman or warrior of them all. Per- haps even less so, from the greater independence of position and pride of character in the historical person, which allow him to exhibit his genuine traits, except in that particular direction where he is playing the hypo- crite. History, like criticism, deals with the intellectual and trained part
of a man, in opposition to the personal, that belongs in its fulness to biography.
On the other ground which has induced Mr. Owen-Madden to publish We book, he is perhaps equally in error. He wishes by a minute ac- count of striking incidents to exhibit the manners of the country at particular times. This can be done in history, if the historian plan his work with that design, and possess skill enough to carry out his in- tuition ; occurrences that are as it were a type being presented in the text, while those which are more peculiar appear in an appendix. It is not unusual for an historian to suspend his national narrative to intro- duce some trait of individual heroism, or some remarkable conduct or crime, provided that the thing is really characteristic of the state of so- ciety. Exceptional cases do not belong to either history, manners, or peoples. They are singularities, and may occur anywhere.
The critical error of " publishing a selection of papers from my Irish portfolio in a separate form," would, however, have been of less conse- quence had the papers really been what the author considered them ; but such is not the case. The first chapter, "The Old Munster Bar," is an article or reminiscence of several able and socially gifted lawyers, who attained a circuit and professional celebrity some forty years ago, but never passed beyond that species of fame, though the author says two or three of them might have done so. The second chapter is on a larger subject, " Irish Pulpit Eloquence"; and would have borne a fuller illustration than is given to it. The story of the seduction of the Honourable Miss King, by her relative Colonel Fitzgerald—the duel between the lady's brother, Colonel Rine, and Fitzgerald, the latter without a second as no one would go out with him—the subsequent brawl in which Fitzgerald was shot by Lord Kingsborongh—and the trial before the Irish House of Lords—is not historical or illustrative, but exceptional; a mere example of abomi- nable ingratitude, hypocrisy, and profligacy. Sir John Purcell's cool and undaunted defence of his house against nine ruffians perhaps falls under this exceptional category. The horrible story of the Sheas is more illus- trative of the character and crimes of the Irish peasantry ; and, properly condensed, might have appeared in history. So might what Mr. Owen- Madden calls " The Spiked Skulls "; in which a gang of murderers were beheaded after execution, and their heads exposed on the walls of the Bridewell of Macroom, to the horror of the peasantry, but with the best effects in checking crime. All the other chapters are articles ; some- times gossipy—as " O'Connellism," in which the chief feature is the Libe- rator's appetite and coarseness in feeding, rather unpleasant than amusing ; or stale history, with an illustration old in the instance if new in the par- ticular fact ; or some papers on topics of insufficient interest, and rather forced to boot. In short, the substance of the book is a good deal more like sweepings of a study than "revelations" of a country. The story of the burning of the family of the Sheas, for example, is notorious—fre- quently referred to in Parliament ; the calm determined courage of Sir John Purcell was told quite as well in the newspapers of the day as in the book before us, or we are muelLmistaken; Miss King's affair, in its main features, was renarrated lately—we think by Dr. Milligan, in his history of Duelling.
Formally, the composition is as smart, and the tone as confident, as in Mr. Owen-Madden's previous works : but there is less of vitality, as if the author were getting exhausted, and were endeavouring to force an appearance of vigour. This, however, may really arise from want of niatter—from the limited interest in the best of his topics compared with the interest he wishes to make them appear to possess; or from the staleness of many of his subjects. All Mr. Owen-Madden's publications have run in one direction, and been handled in one style. This of neces- sity involves repetition and mannerism,—a fault that frequently results from continual recurrence to similar subjects.
The two freshest papers in the collection are " The Minister Bar" and "Irish Pulpit Eloquence," as being drawn from actual reminiscences, or from personal communications, which are the next best thing to observa- tion. It is needless to observe upon the following story of " Tom St. Lawrence," a popular Protestant preacher, that his eloquence had little effect upon his own life. The palliation for his conduct is to be found in his age, and in the fact that he was forced into the church against his will.
." He was once appointed to preach a charity sermon, at a well-known church in Dublin, on behalf of a popular institution. It was the first time he had ever preached in the metropolis, and amongst the clergy generally there was consider- able anxiety to hear him. His friends were most anxious that he should appear to advantage, and that he should justify the reports which had preceded him from the South of Ireland. He was himself desirous to sustain his reputation, but took no uncommon pains about the matter, leaving it to the last to prepare his sermon. He arrived in Dublin two dap before the time appointed for the sermon, and in- tended to spend the interval in preparation: but St. Lawrence's practice very often differed from his resolutions. Instead of passing the intervening days in study, he spent them in company; and joined a gay party—a very gay one—on the Saturday evening before the appointed day. It was precisely such a party as St. Lawrence rejoiced in. Gentlemen of the old school ' were there, with droll tales of other times; wits were there, with buoyant spirits; jolly old college compani- ons, and jovial blades. The mirth was great, and the jest passed with the wine- cup, and several of the small hours had chimed before the revellers broke up. One of the company really felt for St. Lawrence; and feared, not unreasonably, that he would belie all the hopes entertained of him in the pulpit. He called upon St. Lawrence the next day, and found him at a late breakfast. The visiter told St. Lawrence bow the rest of the company had concluded the night, after he had left them. It seems that they bad adjourned to a gambling-house, and that one of the parties, Major —, had been fleeced! At this St. Lawrence was much die- tressed, and he expressed real compunction for the way he had spent the night. He then begged to be left alone' and at the appointed hour St. Lawrence entered the pulpit, sad, weary, and depressed. He saw that the congregation expected a good sermon;" and he recognized many a distinguished member of Trinity College, and'many an old friend amongst the crowd. But what was his amazement at beholding four of his fellow revellers of the previous night, seated aide by side in a pew near the pulpit! The sight at once aroused his mind and supplied him with a topic. St. Lawrence on that day preached from his heart, and gave elo- quent utterance to the feelings of compunction and sorrow which he felt to the core. He painted in the most striking colours the rain and misery occasioned by loss of time, by opportunities wasted, and by great talents misapplied te trifles. He struck at the vice of gaming—a vice which at all times has been prevalent Dublin: he then described the very scene which he had witnessed the previous night, and, adding the fact of the withdrawal to the gaming-table, (of which he had been informed previously,) asked how could such persons expect to meet the judgm of the living God? Roused by the subject, he continued to speak with earnest force; and the picture of the ruined gambler, led to ruin by idleness and the craving for excitement, moved the Major even to tears. ' Ah I' said St. Law- rence afterwards, when some of his friends were congratulating him on the elo- quence he had displayed, I was at first very nervous: the sight of so many c the big-wigs of the University dispirited me; but when I saw old Jack — tears, I knew that I had done well.' In truth, the presence of his fellow revellers had saved him from failure: he confessed afterwards that he should have utterly failed but for the train of ideas suggested by their presence."
The subject of the following sketch is perhaps now forgotten even in his own sphere, but he was a character in his day : the remarks of Mr. Owen-Madden are judicious, and apply to other professions besides the
• "COUNSELLOR" QUIN, OF THE MONSTER CIRCUIT.
He was a grave elocutionist, and delivered his speeches in the stately style or Kemble playing Cato. In some cases he was most imposing and effective; but his style was too tragic for the everyday cases of the bar. In the case of a Mg. i gins or a Murphy he was as grand in his manner as if the house of Atreus were his clients. Ile was probably more familiar with Corneille than with Coke. In stating a case in trover you were reminded of the soliloquy in Hamlet. I knot not whether he was a distant relative or connexion of his namesake the celebrated actor of the same name; but certainly the Queen's counsel of the Munster bar had all the air of a stage-taught and perhaps " stage-struck" lawyer. Like his namesake the great actor, he was heavy and monotonous: the actor and the ad- vocate both wanted variety- " Bored°, Doran, Falstaff, still was Quin."
And Churchill's line was equally applicable to the barrister of the Munster circuit. Poor Quin! I remember him when he presented a sad contrast to his earlier and more prosperous days. After having been for many years a leading man on the circuit, he almost suddenly lost all. his business. At a Cork election he gave a legal opinion which was very wrong; and the notoriety of the fact (from its connexion with a public matter) did him great professional injury, possibly with much injustice. For years he used to go the circuit without getting briefs. He saw younger and less gifted men with plenty of employment, while he sat Imes cupied. I remember being struck with his disconsolate aspect the first time I saw him at the bar. He looked like a "light of other days "; and doubtless many a recollection of bygone times used to come across his mind. He was pro- bably not much at the wrong side of fifty when 1 first saw him; but, with his silver hairs and sad aspect, he looked to be seventy. The Crown employed him always as one of its leading counsel; and pickpockets and sheepstealers had the gratification of being publicly prosecuted in a style remarkable for its lofty though artificial dignity. It must not be supposed that Quin lost his business from any want of capacity. injure him. no means. He got out of fashion, and an unlucky accident helped to njure him. The bar is as subject to the caprices of fashion as the ballroom. Today men are cried up as lawyers, whom you will hear tomorrow disparaged as not fit to draw a common declaration. Thus it is reputations rise and fall, and fortunes are made and afterwards lost. The spectacle of a barrister, once in fashion, who has lost all his practice, is a sad and disheartening one. On the tide of success he may have launched into expenditure and show; the current of prosperity ceases for a few terms, and he is left a stranded wreck—a thing of rum and de- cay. There are a few still living who remember the melancholy case of Mr. —, now nearly half a center), since. He had been once in the first rank of the bar, and lived in one of the squares in Dahlia: afterwards he was so reduced that he was glad to accept a very humble situation under Government to keep himself from starvation. ne41. th4" Quin, however, made a great deal of e time that he was in fashion: he was wise enough to keep it; and when the rainy day came he had stored up an ample competency. He had a fine voice; he sang very delightfully; his manners were those of a high-bred though somewhat formal gentleman; his declamation was too verbose, but it had merits peculiar to the style; and when he had a case suited to his powers it received ample rhetorical justice at his hands.
We take leave of Mr. Owen-Madden's readable, but not very remark- able Revelations, with an anecdote of O'Connell.
" A few years since he went down to Kingstown, near Dublin, with a party, to visit a Queen's ship-of-war, which was then riding in the bay. After having seen it, O'Connell proposed a walk to the top of Killiney Hill. Breaking from the rest of his party, he ascended to the highest point of the hill, in company with a young and real Irish patriot, whose character was brimful of national enthusiasm. The day was fine, and the view from the summit of the hill burst gloriously upon the sight. The beautiful bay of Dublin, like a vast sheet of crystal, was at their feet; the old city of Dublin stretched away to the West, and to the North was the bold promontory of Howth, jutting forth into the sea; to the South were the Dublin and Wicklow mountains, enclosing the lovely vale of Shanganah, rising pic- turesquely against the horizon. The scene was beautiful, with all the varieties of sunlight and shadow. O'Connell enjoyed it with nearly as mach rapture as his yonthful and ardent companion; who broke forth—' It is all Ireland—oh, how beautiful! Thank God, we see nothing English here: everything we see is Irish!' His rapture was interrupted by O'Connell gently laying his hand on his shoulder, and pointing to the ship-of-war at anchor as he exclaimed= A speck of the Bri- tish power!' "
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