Dublin Castle from a jaundiced eye.

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ON DUBLIN CASTLE.**

By Richard Dowling in “Zozimus.”

Dublin Castle is in the city of Dublin, and stands on the south side of the River Liffey. It is called a castle because it has a great many windows and a portico to the principal entrance. It you weren’t told it was Dublin Castle you wouldn’t think it was Dublin Castle at all. When I saw it first I took it for a militia-barrack or a poorhouse for gaugers. When a man showed me where the Lord Lieutenant lived when he’s at home I began to think that all Lord Lieutenants must be very low-sized men, not in the least particular about their lodgings.

The Castle, as it is generally called, is built on Cork-hill. Many ignorant people, such as members of Parliament and lords, think that Cork-hill is in the city of that name. Those who have learned geography and the use of the globes know that Cork-hill has for many centuries been in the city of Dublin.

The Castle surrounds a square called the Upper Castle Yard, in the center of which there is a beautiful tub for holding flags. There is also a policeman in the Upper Castle Yard, but he is not worth looking at, although his face is generally clean, and he wears a silver Albert chain. There are soldiers walking up and down at the gate to keep themselves warm. They always carry their guns, because, if they put them out of their hands, Fenians or newspaper boys or the policemen might run away with them. This makes the soldiers short-tempered and chew tobacco.

There is a statue of Justice over the gateway. This statue fell out of the sky during a thunder storm, to where it stands, and only that it is red hot the Government would get men to take it down, for it has no business there, and looking at it only makes the people who live in the Castle uncomfortable.

You can go from the Upper Castle Yard to the Lower Castle Yard under an arched gateway. There are policemen in the Lower Yard, but they don’t wear Albert chains or pare their nails. The Lower Castle Yard is not a yard in the least, but makes me always think of a street with a broken back. There are a few towers in it. These towers are very strong. A man once told me that if you fired a horse-pistol at one of them all day you would not be able to make a hole in it!

A great number of small boys play marbles and ball here. The Lord Lieutenant loves to see innocent children amusing themselves, and he often sends them out presents of nuts and clay pipes to blow soap-bubbles. When there isn’t a cattle show, or a militia regiment to be inspected, or a knight to be made, he himself often comes out in disguise and blows soap-bubbles. It is always remarked that the Lord Lieutenant’s soap-bubbles are the largest and of the most beautiful colors. A man once told me that it is because the Lord Lieutenant puts a great deal of soft soap into the water which he uses.

There is nothing connected with the Castle about which there arc so many wrong notions as about the Castle Hack. Some are under the belief that it is a man; others think it to be an attorney; and there are those who go so far as to assert that it is a member of Parliament. Of all the people who indulge in such extravagances, I venture to say, not one has seen, or even had the curiosity to inquire particularly about it.

Now, I have seen the Hack, and learned all that is to be known concerning it, and am, therefore, well qualified to give correct information and a faithful description of it. I gave a decent man at the Castle half-a-crown, and he showed it to me and supplied me with all the particulars I needed. The Castle Hack is a poor, lean, wretched old horse. He is spavined and broken-winded, and his bones are sharply visible through his faded and withered hide. He is wholly unequal to the performance of any honest work in the fields, and he is one of the meanest and most wretched objects which can offend the sight of a humane and worthy man.

Of all the noble attributes possessed by his species, none remain to him; and of all the useful qualities of his fellows, he retains but one, that of abject servility to the rein, for he has neither the generosity nor the pride, the strength nor the swiftness, which makes his race fit to be the companions of men.

There is ever in his eye the expression of hunger for the corn-bins of the Castle, and dread lest he should be worried to death by those of his own race, in their rage at seeing so obscene a creature wearing and dishonoring their form. His employment is in keeping with his appearance. It is he who fetches meat for the Castle kennel, and brings the soiled linen of the Castle to the laundry to be cleaned.

Although he is docile to his driver, he is spurned and despised. It is not his to swell the pageant, but to feed darkly at the Castle manger, to fear the light, and to crawl and shudder in the noisome ways. Poor brute, if he could only have one month’s grazing on a hill-side in the sunlight lie might pluck up some spirit, and lose at once his taste for Castle oats, and his indifference to the nature of the work which he performed.

The oldest part of the Castle now standing is the Back Stairs. The entrance to this celebrated staircase is in the Castle Garden. After going up a few steps a passage is reached which leads by a kind of bridge, over the Lower Castle Yard, into the Castle. The steps of the stairs are iron; for so many people go up and down that if they were made of any softer substance they would have been worn away long ago.

The people who go up this stairs carry bags full of things and wear their hats very low over their faces. They generally have turnips, and gum-arabic, and steel pens, and penny packages of stationery in their bags. A man once told me that they sometimes bring the heads of people and sell them at the Castle; he also said that they often sell their country. Who could believe this?

I had heard so many stories about this Back Stairs that I made up my mind to go and see it for myself. Before setting out I resolved to humor the people in the Castle, whatever they might say to me. I got a bag, filled it with artichoke, and, having pulled my hat low over my eyes, went up.

When I got to the top I met a man who asked me “if I came about that affair.” I said, “Yes,” and he led me into a small room, where another man was eating the end of a large quill, and reading a large blue paper with writing on it, and having a large stamp in the corner. I sat down. “Did you come about that affair?” said he. “Yes,” I answered. “Well,” said he,” did you see him” “I did,” I answered. “What did he say?” he asked. “I don’t know,” said I, feeling just as if he would order me to be shot on the spot. “Good,” he said; “I see you have been reading the Tichborne case and have learned caution from it. What have you in the bag?” “Artichokes.” “How many?” “Twenty-five.” “Were there really so many?” “Yes.” “And ‘choke him’ were the words? Were they?” “Yes.” “On the night of the 15th?” “Yes.” “How much do you want for the artichokes?” “One hundred pounds.” “Say two.” “Two.” “Gold or notes?” “Gold.” “Very good! There you are,” said he, handing me two small bags of sovereigns; “your information is most important. I shall forward it to the chief to-night. Good afternoon.” And off I went with my two hundred sovereigns. -

The Castle is the best place in the world for selling artichokes and lies. I would go with another bag of each now only the artichokes are out of season. Can you understand what information I gave? - I can’t. I hope it wasn’t against a Royal Residence or asphalting the streets of the city.

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