State of Society in Dublin.

**

**Ireland 60 Years Ago

Chapter I.

State of Society and the City of Dublin - Liberty Boys and Ormond Boys - Collegians - Police - Bucks and Bullies - Chalkies.

The character of Ireland 90 or 100 years ago was an anomaly in the moral world. Though united to England for seven centuries, and every effort made during that period to assimilate the people to their neighbours at the other side of the channel, little progress seems to have been made in engrafting English habits, manners, and modes of thinking, on the Irish stock. Laws were promulgated, and oftentimes enforced with unrelenting severity; yet there was apparently no change in the habits and customs of the people. Even within the Pale, or in the immediate vicinity of the metropolis, the king’s writ was nearly as much disregarded in the 18th century as when Maguire of Fermanagh, in the 16th, demanded the price of the sheriff’s head, that if his people cut it off, his Eric might be sent as a compensation to the Castle of Dublin. So little change was made in the moral feeling of the nation that laws were inoperative.

A characteristic sample of the spirit of the times is afforded by the career of the well-known George Robert Fitzgerald, popularly called “Fighting Fitzgerald,” [A Mayo gentleman of property. Executed for murder at Castlebar on the 12th of June, 1786.] in the strange and almost incompatible traits of character he displayed; his alternate gentleness and ferocity, love of justice and violation or all law; his lenity and cruelty, patient endurance of wrong, yet perpetration of foul and atrocious murders. The scene of his outrages was, however, confined to a portion of Ireland, separated from the rest by its local position on the remote shores of the Atlantic, seldom visited by strangers, having little intercourse with England, and either generally ignorant of its laws, or, from long impunity, setting them altogether at defiance. Still more striking are the examples of a kindred spirit existing among persons born and living within the pale of civilization, brought up among Ireland’s best inhabitants, nixing with intelligent strangers, and having no excuse, from ignorance or seclusion, for violations of law and justice.

At the period we refer to, any approach to the habits of the industrious classes by an application to trade or business, or even a profession, was considered a degradation to a gentleman, and the upper orders of society affected a most rigid exclusiveness. There was, however, one most singular pursuit in which the highest and lowest seemed alike to participate with an astonishing relish, viz., fighting, which all classes in Ireland appear to have enjoyed with a keenness now hardly credible even to a native of Kentucky. The passion for brawls and quarrels was as rife in the metropolis as elsewhere, and led to scenes in Dublin; 120 years ago, which present a most extraordinary contrast to the state of society there at the present day.

Among the lower orders, a feud and deadly hostility had grown up between the Liberty boys, or tailors and weavers of the Coombe, and the Ormond boys, or butchers who lived in Ormond-market on Ormond quay, which caused frequent conflicts; and it is now a matter of history that the streets and particularly the quays and bridges were impassable in consequence of the battles of these parties The weavers, descending from the upper regions beyond Thomas street, poured down on their opponents below; they were opposed by the butchers, and a contest commenced on the quays which extended from Essex to Island-bridge. The shops were closed; all business suspended; the sober and peaceable compelled to keep their houses; and those whose occasions led them through the streets where the belligerents were engaged, were stopped, while the war of stones and other missiles was carried on across the river, and the bridges were taken and retaken by the hostile parties.

It will hardly be believed that for whole days the intercourse of the city was interrupted by the feuds of these factions. The few miserable watchmen, inefficient for any purpose of protection, looked on in terror, and thought them selves well acquitted of their duty if they escaped from stick and stone. A friend of ours has told us that he has gone down to Essex (now Grattan) bridge, when he had been informed that one of those battles was raging, and stood quietly on the battlements for a whole day looking at the combat, in which above 1,000 men were engaged. At one time, the Ormond boys drove those of the Liberty up to Thomas-street, where, rallying, they repulsed their assailants, and drove them back as far as the Broadstone, while the bridges and quays were strewed with the maimed and wounded. On May 11, 1790, one of those frightful riots raged for an entire Saturday on Ormond-quay, the contending parties struggling for the mastery of the bridge; and nightfall having separated them before the victory was decided, the battle was renewed on the Monday following. It was reported of Alderman Emerson, when Lord Mayor, [In 1776] on one of those occasions, that he declined to interfere when applied to, asserting that “it was as much as his life was worth to go among them.”

These feuds terminated sometimes in frightful excesses. The butchers used their knives, not to stab their opponents, but for a purpose then common in the barbarous state of Irish society, to *hough *or cut the tendon of the leg, thereby rendering the person incurably lame for life. On one occasion, after a defeat of the Ormond boys, those of the Liberty retaliated in a manner still more barbarous and revolting. They dragged the persons they seized to their market, and, dislodging the meat they found there, hooked the men by the jaws, and retired, leaving the butchers hanging on their own stalls.

The spirit of the times led men of the highest grade and respectability to join with the dregs of the market in these outrages, entirely forgetful of the feelings of their order, then immeasurably more exclusive in their ideas of a gentleman than now; and the young aristocrat who would have felt it an intolerable degradation to associate, or even be seen with an honest merchant, however respectable, with a singular inconsistency made a boast of his intimate acquaintance with the lawless excesses of butchers and coal-porters. The students of Trinity College were particularly prone to join in the affrays between the belligerents, and generally united their forces to those of the Liberty boys against the butchers. On one occasion several of them were seized by the latter, and, to the great terror of their friends, it was reported they were hanged up in the stalls, in retaliation for the cruelty of the weavers. A party of watchmen sufficiently strong was at length collected by the authorities, and they proceeded to Ormond-market; there they saw a frightful spectacle - a number of college lads in their gowns and caps hanging to the hooks. On examination however it was found that the butchers, pitying their youth and respecting their rank, hand only hung them by the waistbands of their breeches, where they remained as helpless, indeed, as if they were suspended by the neck.

The gownsmen were then a formidable body, and, from a strong *esprit de corps, *were ready, on short notice, to issue forth in a mass to avenge any insult offered to an individual of their party who complained of it. They converted the keys of their rooms into formidable weapons. They procured them as large and heavy as possible, and slinging them in the sleeves or tails of their gowns, or pocket-handkerchiefs, gave with them mortal blows. Even the fellows participated in this *esprit de corps. *The interior of the college was considered a sanctuary for debtors; and woe to the unfortunate bailiff who violated its precincts. There stood, at that time, a wooden pump in the centre of the front court to which delinquents in this way were dragged the moment they were detected, and all but smothered. One of the then fellows, Dr. Wilder, [Rev. Theaker Wilder, a good mathematical scholar was tutor to Oliver Goldsmith. He was elected Fellow in 1744; and died in 1777:] was a man of very eccentric habits, and possessed little of the gravity and decorum that distinguish the exemplary fellows of Trinity at the present day. He once met a young lady in one of the crossings, where she could not pass him without walking in the mud He stopped opposite her; and, gazing for a moment on her face he laid his hands on each side and kissed her. He then nodded familiarly at the astonished and offended girl and saying, “Take that, miss, for being so handsome” stepped out of the way and let her pass. He was going through the college courts on one occasion when a bailiff was under discipline; he pretended to interfere for the man and called out -“Gentlemen, gentlemen, for the love of God, don t be so cruel as to nail his *ears *to the pump.” The hint was immediately taken; a hammer and nail were sent for, and an ear was fastened with a tenpenny nail; the lads dispersed, and the wretched man remained for a considerable time bleeding, and shrieking with pain, before he was released.

Another striking instance of this laxity of discipline in the University occurred in the case of a printer of the name of Mills. He was publisher of the *Hibernian Journal, *and had incurred the anger of the students by some severe strictures on certain members of the college which appeared in his paper. On the 11th of February, 1775, some scholars drove in a coach to his door, and called him out on pretence of bargaining for some books. He was suddenly seized, thrust into the coach, and held down by the party within, with pistols to his head, and threats of being shot if he made any noise. In this way he was conveyed to the pump; and, after being nearly trampled to death, he was held there till he was almost suffocated-indeed he would have expired under the discipline but for the prompt interference of some of the fellows. This gross outrage in the very courts, and under the fellows’ eyes, which ought to have been visited by the immediate expulsion of all concerned, was noticed only by a mild admonition of the Board to a single individual; the rest enjoyed a perfect impunity, and openly exulted in the deed. The form of admonition actually excused the act. It was drawn up by the celebrated Dr. Leland, the historian of Ireland. It commenced in these words:- “Cum constet scholarium ignotorum coetum injuriam admisisse in typographum quendam. nomine Mills, qui nefariis flagitiis nobiliora quaeque collegii membra in chartis suis lacessivit,” &c. [“Since is appears that a body of unknown scholars committed an assault against a certain printer, named Mills, who wickedly attacked in his paper certain noble members of the college, &c.]

The theatre was the scene of many outrages of the college students. One of them is on legal record, and presents a striking picture of the then state of society. On the evening of the 19th of January, 1746, a young man of the name of Kelly, a student of the university, entered the pit much intoxicated, and climbing over the spikes of the orchestra, got upon the stage, from whence he made his way to the green-room, and insulted some of the females there in the most gross and indecent manner. As the play could not proceed from his interruption, he was taken away, and civilly conducted back to the pit, here lie seized a basket of oranges, and amused himself with pelting the performers. Mr Sheridan was then manager; [Thomas Sheridan, father of Richard Brinsley Sheridan.] and be was the particular object of his abuse and attack. He was suffered to retire with impunity after interrupting the performance and disturbing the whole house. Unsatisfied by this attack he returned a few nights after with 50 of his associates, gownsmen and others. They rushed towards the stage, to which they made their way through the orchestra and across the lights. Here they drew their swords, and then marched into the dressing-rooms in search of Mr. Sheridan, to sacrifice him to their resentment. Not finding him, they thrust the points of their weapons through chests and clothes-presses, and every place where a man might be concealed - and this they facetiously called *feeling *for him. He had fortunately escaped; but the party proceeded in a body to his house in Dorset-street, with the murderous determination of stabbing him, declaring, with the conspirator in *Venice Preserved, *“each man might kill his share.” For several nights they assembled at the theatre exciting riots and acting scenes of the same kind till the patience of the manager and the public was exhausted He then, with spirit and determination proceeded legally against them. Such was the ascendency of rank arid the terror those “Bucks” inspired, that the general opinion was, it would be impossible that any jury could find *gentleman *guilty of an assault upon *a player. *A barrister in court had remarked, with a sneer, that he had never seen a “gentleman player.” “Then, sir,” said Sheridan, “I hope you see one now.” Kelly was found guilty of a violent assault, sentenced to pay a fine of £500 pounds, and, to the surprise and dismay of all his gentlemen associates, sent to Newgate.

Sometimes students, in other respects most amiable, and on other occasions most gentle, were hurried into those outrages by the overruling spirit of the times and a compliance with its barbarous usages. Among the lads at that time was a young man named M’Allister, whose fate excited as much pity as execration. He was a native of Waterford, and one of the young members of the university most distinguished for talent and conduct. He supped one night at a tavern, with a companion named Vaudeleur; and they amused themselves by cutting their names on the table, with the motto, *quis separabit *(who shall separate us). Issuing from thence in a state of ebriety, they quarrelled with a man in the street, and, having the points of their swords left bare through the ends of the scabbards (a custom then common with men inclined for a brawl), ran him through the body in the course of the fray. They were not personally recognised at the time; but the circumstance of carving their names on the table was adverted to, so they were discovered and pursued. M’Allister had gained his rooms in college, where he was speedily followed. He hastily concealed himself behind a surplice which was hanging against the wall, and his pursuers, entering the instant after, searched every spot except the one he had chosen for his superficial concealment. They tore open chests and clothes-presses, ran their swords through beds, but without finding him; and, supposing he had sought some other house of concealment, they departed. On their retreat M’Allister fled on board a ship and escaped to America, where he died. He was a young mall of a most amiable disposition. Had he lived in better days, he might have been distinguished for gentleness and humanity; the spirit of the times and the force of example converted him into an atrocious murderer.

[He was well known for his poetic talents. In his exile he wrote an elegiac epistle to his sister to whom he was strongly attached; the strain of tender affection it breahtes, and the polished elegance of the versification, evince at once the taste of a cultured mind and the feelings of a kind and warm hear. Two stanzas are here subjoined as a specimen:-

“Whilst thou the chosen sister of my heart,

with mirth dissembled, soothe a mother’s woe,

Or solitary stray, and, scorning art,

From genuine anguish give the tears to flow,

Behold thy brotherm cruel Fortune’s slave,

With folded arms and brow depressed in care,

Where the beach bellows to the lashing wave,

Indulge each mournful accent of despair.

“Yet torn from objects which my heart holds dear,

Still shall my fondness for Eliza live:

Then take this prayer, accept a brother’s tear,

For prayers and tears are all I now can give -

‘Parent of Nature, let thy sleepless eye

Be ever watchful o’er Eliza’s ways;

Should stern misfortune threat, oh! be Thou nigh,

And guide her safe through life’s intricate maze.’]

Such riots and violence as we have described to have been frequent, seem hardly credible to those who know only our present well-ordered city and efficient police. But it is to be remembered that, at the period of which we write, there were no police. So keenly was the want of them felt, that, during the existence of the Volunteers, gentlemen of that body for a time arranged among themselves to traverse the streets at night, to protect the peaceably-disposed inhabitants, and men of the first rank in the kingdom thus voluntarily discharged the duties of watchmen. But the occupation assorted badly with the fiery spirits on whom it devolved and the streets were soon again abandoned to the so-called legitimate guardians. In the daytime the streets were always wholly unprotected. The first appointment even of a permanent night-watch was in 1723, when an act was passed under which the different parishes were required to appoint “honest men and *good Protestants” *to be night-watches. The utter inefficiency of the system must have been felt; and various improvements were, from time to time, attempted in it, every four or five years producing a new police act - with how little success every one can judge who remembers the tattered somnambulists who represented the “good Protestant watchmen” some years ago. Several attempts had also been made to establish an efficient civic magistracy, but with such small benefit that for a long time a large portion of the magesterial duties within the city were performed by county magistrates, who had no legal authority whatever to act there. An office was kept in the neighbourhood of Thomas-street by two gentlemen in the commission for the county, who made a yearly income by the fees; and the order to fire on the mob who murdered Lord Kilwarden, so late as 1803, was given by Mr. Bell, a magistrate of the county and not the city of Dublin. Another well-known member of the bench was Mr. Drury, who halted in his gait, and was called “the lame justice.” On the occasion above mentioned, he retired for safety to the garret of his house in the Coombe, from whence, as Curran remarked, “he played with considerable effect on the rioters with a large telescope.”

Among the gentry of the period was a class called “Bucks,” who whole enjoyment and the business of whose life seemed to consist in eccentricity and violence. Many of their names have come down to us. “Buck English,” “Buck Sheehy,” and various others, have left behind them traditionary anecdotes so repugnant to the conduct that marks the character of a gentleman of the present day, that we hardly believe they could have pretensions to be considered as belonging to the same class of society. These propensities were not confied to individuals, but extended through whole families. There was an instance in which one brother of a well-known race shot his friend, and another stabbed his coachman. They were distinguished by the appellatives of “Killkelly” and “Killcoachy.” At the same time, there were three noblemen, brothers, so notorious for their outrages, that they acquired singular names, as indicative of their characters. The first was the terror of every one who met him in public places - the second was seldom out of prison - and the third was lame, yet no whit disabled from his buckish achievements; they were universally known by the names of “Hellgate,” “Newgate,” and “Cripplegate.”

Some of the “Bucks” associated together under the name of the “Hell-fire Club;” and, among other infernal proceedings, it is reported that they set fire to fire to the apartment in which they met, and endured the flames with incredible obstinacy, till they were forced out of the house; in derision, as they asserted, of the threatened torments of a future state. On other occasions, in mockery of religion, they administered to one another the sacred rites of the Church in a manner too indecent for description. Others met under the appellation of “Mohawk,” “Hawkabite,” “Cherokee,” and other Indian tribes, then noted for their cruelty and ferocity; and their actions would not disgrace their savage archetypes. Others were known by the sobriquet of “Sweaters and Pinkindindies.” It was their practice to cut off a small portion of the scabbards of the swords which every one then wore, and prick or “pink” the persons with whom they quarrelled with the naked points, which were sufficiently protruded to inflict considerable pain, but not sufficient to cause death. When this was intended, a greater length of the blade was uncovered. Barbers at that time were essential persons to “Bucks” going to parties, as no man could then appear without his hair elaborately dressed and powdered. The disappointment of a barber was therefore a sentence of exclusion from a dinner, Supper party, or ball, where a fashionable man might as well appear without his head as without powder and pomatum. When any unfortunate *friseur *disappointed, he was the particular object of their rage; and more than one was, it is said, put to death *by the long points, *as a just punishment for his delinquency.

There was at that time a celebrated coffee-house, called “Lucas’s,” where the Royal Exchange now stands. This was frequented by the fashionable, who assumed an intolerable degree of insolence over all of less rank who frequented it. Here a Buck used to strut up and down with a long train to his morning gown; and if any person, in walking across the room, happened accidentally to tread upon it, his sword was drawn, and the man punished on the spot for his supposed insolence. On one occasion - an old gentleman who witnessed the transaction informed us - a plain man, of a genteel appearance, crossed the room for a newspaper, as one of the Bucks of the day was passing, and touched the prohibited train accidentally with his foot. The sword of the owner was instantly out and, as every one then carried a sword, the offending man also drew his, a small tuck, which he carried as an appendage to dress, without at all intending or knowing how to use it. Pressed upon by his ferocious antagonist, he was driven back to the wall, to which the Buck was about to pin him. As the latter drew back for the lounge, his terrified opponent, in an impulse of self-preservation, sprang within his point, and without aim or design pierced him through the body. The Buck was notorious for his skill in fencing, and had killed or wounded several adversaries. This opportune check was as salutary in its effects at the coffee house as the punishment of Kelly was at the theatre.

On the 29th of July, 1784, six Bucks were return mg home, alter dining with the Attorney-Geneial Fitzgibbon. As* *they passed the house of a publican named [Flattery on Ormond quay they determined to amuse themselves by “sweating,” i. *e., *making him give up all fire-arms. They entered the house, and began the entertainment by “pinking”the waiter. Mrs. Flattery, presuming on the protection that would be afforded by her sex, came down to pacify them, but one of the party, more heated with wine than *the *rest, assaulted and began to take indecent liberties with her. Her husband, who had at first kept himself concealed, in the hope that his tormentors could be got quietly out of the house roused by the insult to his wife, rushed out and knocked the assailant down. The Bucks drew their swords. Flattery armed himself with a gun, and aided by the people of the house and some who came to his assistance from the street, succeeded in driving them out on the quay. The Bucks, who happened to hold high military rank, unfortunately met with some soldiers, whom they ordered to follow them and returned to Flattery’s house, vowing vengeance on all the inmates. A message had been sent to the Sheriff, Smith, to come and keep the peace. but he was able to collect only five men at the main guard, and when they reached the scene of the riot, it was so violent that their assistance was quite useless. The “spree” would probably have ended in the total sacking of Flattery’s house, only for the accidental arrival of some gentlemen dispersing from a Volunteer meeting who willingly assisted the Sheriff. The Bucks however escaped being arrested. One of them was a noble lord, two were colonels in the army, and the others of high rank and aides-de-camp to the Lord Lieutenant the Duke of Rutland. The latter interested himself on their behalf; and such was the influence of their rank, that the matter was hushed up, and the *gentlemen *engaged in this atrocious outrage, though all well known, escaped unpunished.

The excitement of these men was not, however, always of a cruel or violent kind. Then eccentricities were often of a peaceful character, and displayed themselves in a more harmless manner. Colonel St. Leger (pronounced Sallenger) was a large man, hand-some, and well made, particularly acceptable to the society of the Castle during the viceroyalty of the Duke of Rutland, and a devoted admirer of the beautiful Duchess, taking all occasions to display his gallantry, sometimes in the most extravagant manner. Seeing her Grace wash her hands and mouth one day after dinner, he called immediately for the glass, and, standing up, drank to the bottom the contents. “St. Leger,” said the Duke, “you are in luck; her Grace washes her feet to-night, and you shall have another goblet after supper.”

The feat of another gentleman, who proposed a bet of a Considerable sum, that he would proceed to Jerusalem, play ball against its walls, and return in a given time, is well known in Dublin, and obtained the enterprising challenger a sobriquet by which he was ever afterwards universally known. His name was “Whaley,” and, to the hour of his death, he was called “Jerusalem Whaley.” [Thomas, or ‘Buck’ Whaley, was Lord Clare’s brother-in-law. His residence in Stephen’s Green is now University College. He was member for Enniscorthy, and voted at one time in favour of the Union, but afterwards against it.] [This wrong. The house at No. 86 St. Stephen’s Green was built by “Buck’s” brother Richard Chapell. Whaley KF]

The legislature of the time presents a few striking illustrations of the violent spirit exhibited in some of the anecdotes we have here recorded. From 1773 to 1783 several acts were passed, enacting the most extreme penalties for the punishment of offenders called “Chalkers.” These acts recite that profligate and ill disposed persons were in the habit of mangling others “merely with the wanton and wicked intent to disable and disfigure them.” They seem as appropriate to the gentlemanly brutalities of Bucks and Pinkindindies as to the feats of their rivals, the weavers and butchers, and there is an exception in the punishment, which seems adapted more particularly for the former, viz., that while the punishment for “chalking” is made in the highest degree severe, it is provided that the offence shall not corrupt the offender’s blood, or cause a forfeiture of his property to the prejudice of his wife or relatives.

In 1783 the brutal custom of houghing (a favourite practice, as we mentioned before, with the Dublin butchers in their feuds) occasioned another statute, for the more effectual discovery and prosecution of offenders called “Houghers.” This latter act had the curious effect of increasing the evil it was intended to check. It adopted the clumsy contrivance of pensioning the victim of the hougher for life on the district where the offence was committed, unless the offender was convicted. It appears from the act that the military were the class against whom the practice of houghing was most in vogue, and when soldiers became unwilling to continue in the army, either from being employed against their political prejudices, from being entrapped as recruits, or from any other reason, they used secretly to *hough themselves, *and, as the conviction of the offender was then impossible, they thus obtained a pension for life.

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