A Dublin Boarding-house.

Chapter X

A Dublin Boarding House.

Sketch of the company and inmates - Lord Mountmorris - Lieut. Gam Johnson, R. N. - Sir John and Lady O’Flaherty - Mrs. Wheeler - Lady and Miss Barry - Memoir and character of Miss Barry, afterwards Mrs. Baldwin - Ruinous effects of a dramatic education exemplified - Lord Mountmorris’s duel with the Honourable Francis Hely Hutchinson at Donnybrook - His lordship wounded - Marquis of Ely his second.

On my return to Dublin from London, before I could suit myself with a residence to my satisfaction, I lodged at the house of Mr. Kyle in Frederick Street! uncle to the present provost of Dublin University. Mrs. Kyle was a remarkably plain woman, of the most curious figure, being round as a ball; but she was as good as she was ordinary. This worthy creature, who was a gentlewoman by birth, had married Kyle, who, though of good family, had been a trooper. She had lived many years as companion with my grandmother, and in fact regarded me as if I had been her own child.

In her abode so many human curiosities were collected, and so many anecdotes occurred, that, even at this distance of time, the recollection of it amuses me. Those who lodged in the house dined in company: the table was most plentifully served, and the party generally comprised from eight to ten select persons. I will endeavour to sketch the leading members of the society there at the period of which I speak; and first on the list I will place the late Lord Mountmorris, of celebrated memory. He was a very clever and well-informed, but eccentric man - one of the most ostentatious and at the same time parsimonious beings in the world.

He considered himself by far the greatest orator and politician in Europe; and it was he who sent a florid speech, which he *intended *to have spoken in the Irish House of Lords, to the press - the debate on which it was to be spoken did not ensue; but his lordship having neglected to countermand the publication, his studied harangue appeared next day in the Dublin newspapers with all the supposititious *cheerings, *&c., duly interposed! I believe a similar *faux pas *has been committed by some English legislator.

His lordship, at the period in question, was patronising what is commonly ycleped a *Led Captain *- one Lieutenant Ham or Gam Johnson of the Royal Navy, brother to the two judges and the attorney of whom I shall speak hereafter. Without being absolutely disgusting, Lieut. Johnson was certainly the ugliest man in Christendom. It was said of him that he need never fire a shot, since his countenance was sufficient to frighten the bravest enemy. His bloated visage, deeply indented by that cruel ravager of all comeliness, the small-pox, was nearly as large as the body which supported it, and that was by no means diminutive. Yet the man was civil and mild, and had withal a much higher character as an officer than his captain in the “Artois” frigate, Lord Charles Fitzgerald, who, it was at that time thought, preferred a sound nap to a hard battle.

Next in the company came Sir John O’Flaherty, Bart, and Lady O’Flaherty, his *sposa. *He was a plain, agreeable country gentleman. Her ladyship was to the full as *plain, *but not quite so agreeable. However, it was, as Mrs. Kyle said, *respectable, *at a boarding-house, to hear “Sir John O’Flaherty’s health!” and “Lady O’Flaherty’s health!” drunk or hobnobbed across the table. They formed, indeed, excellent make-weights to cram in between Lord Mountmorris and the canaille.

Lady Barry, widow of the late Sir Nathaniel Barry, Bart., and mother of Sir Edward, who was also an occasional guest, follows in my catalogue, and was as valuable a curiosity as any of the set.

Mrs. Wheeler, the grandmother of Sir Richard Jonah Denny Wheeler Cuffe, gave up her whole attention to lap-dogs; and neither she nor the last-mentioned dowager were by any means averse to the fermented grape, though we never saw either of them *“very *far gone.”

Lady Barry’s only daughter, afterwards the unfortunate Mrs. Baldwin, was also of the party. Though this young female had not a beautiful face, it was yet peculiarly pleasing, and she certainly possessed one of the finest figures - tall, and slender in its proportions, and exquisitely graceful - I had ever seen. Her father, Sir Nathaniel Barry, many years the principal physician of Dublin, adored his daughter, and had spared no pains nor expense on her education. She profited by all the instruction she received, and was one of the most accomplished young women of her day.

But unfortunately he had introduced her to the practice of one very objectionable accomplishment - calculated rather to give unbounded latitude to, than check, the light and dangerous particles of a volatile and thoughtless disposition. He was himself enthusiastically fond of *theatricals, *and had fitted up a theatre in the upper story of his own house. There the youthful mind of his hitherto untainted daughter was first initiated into all the schemes, the passions, the arts, and the deceptions of lovers and of libertines! the close mimicry of which forms the very essence of dramatic perfection. At 16, with all the warmth of a sensitive constitution, she was taught to personify the vices, affect the passions, and assume the frivolities of her giddy sex!

Thus, through the folly or vanity of her father, she was led to represent by turns the flirt, the jilt, the silly wife, the capricious mistress, and the frail maiden, before her understanding had arrived at sufficient maturity, or his more serious instructions had made sufficient impression to enable her to resist voluptuous sensations. She had not penetration enough (how could she have?) to perceive that a moral may be extracted from almost every crime, and that a bad example may sometimes be more preservative against error, from exhibiting its ruinous consequences, even than a good one. She was too young and too unsteady to make these subtle distinctions. She saw the world’s pleasures dancing gaily before her, and pursued the vision, until her mimicry at length became nature, and her personification identity. After two or three years, during which this mistaken course was pursued, Sir Nathaniel died, leaving his daughter in possession of all the powers of attraction without the guard of prudence. In the dance, in declamation, in music, in the languages she excelled; but in those steady and solid qualities which adapt women for wedlock and domesticity, she was altogether deficient. Her short-sighted father had been weak enough to deck her with the gaudy qualifications of an actress at the expense of all those more estimable acquirements which her mind and her genius were equally susceptible of attaining.

The misfortunes which ensued should therefore be attributed rather to the folly of the parent than to the propensities of the child. Her heart once sunk into the vortex of thoughtless variety and folly, her mother was unable to restrain its downward progress; and as to her weak dissipated brother, Sir Edward, I have myself seen him, late at night, require her to come from her chamber to sing, or play, or spout, for the amusement of his inebriated companions - conduct which the mother had not sufficient sense nor resolution to control.

However, good fortune still gave Miss Barry a fair chance of rescuing herself, and securing complete comfort and high respectability. She married well, being united to Colonel Baldwin, a gentleman of character and fortune; but, alas! that delicacy of mind which is the best guardian of female conduct had been irrecoverably lost by her pernicious education, and in a few years she sank beyond the possibility of regaining her station in society.

Long after the period of her unhappy fall I saw Mrs. Baldwin at the house of a friend of mine, into which she bad been received, under an assumed name, as governess. This effort on her part could not be blamed; on the contrary, it was most commendable, and it would have been both cruel and unjust, by discovering her, to have thwarted it Though many years bad elapsed, and her person had meanwhile undergone total alteration, her size being doubled and her features grown coarse and common, I instantly recognised her as one whom I had known long before, but whose name I could not recollect I had tact enough to perceive that she courted concealment, and in consequence I carefully abstained from any pointed observation.

The mother of the children subsequently told me that her governess was an admirable musician, and took me to the door of her room to hear her play. She was sitting alone at the piano. I listened with an anxiety I cannot describe, nor indeed scarcely account for. She sang not with superiority, but in plaintive tones, which I was confident I had heard before, yet could not remember where, when an air which, from a very peculiar cause, had in early days impressed itself *indelibly *on my memory, brought Miss Barry at once to my recollection. Her image swam into my mind as she appeared when youth, grace, innocence, and accomplishments made her a just subject for general admiration, and had particularly attracted a friend of mine, Mr. Vicars, the brother of Mrs. Peter Latouche, who loved her to distraction.

Her secret I kept inviolably; but some person, I believe, was afterwards less considerate, and she was discovered. Had I supposed it possible she could have then enfeebled the morals or injured the habits of my friend’s children, I should myself have privately given her a hint to change her situation, but I never should have *betrayed *the poor creature. However, I conceived her at that time to be trustworthy in the execution of the duties she had undertaken. She had suffered amply. Her own daughter resided with her, and scarcely ever left her side. No longer a subject for the irregular passions, she had just lived long enough, and felt keenly enough, to render her early follies a warning for her later years, and even to cause her to entertain disgust for those errors which had led her to destruction! and I then believed, nor have I now any reason to question the solidity of my judgment, that she was on the direct road to prudence and good conduct.

I have related these events, as I confess myself to be an avowed enemy to a dramatic education. That sexual familiarity which is indispensable upon the stage undermines, and is, in my opinion, utterly inconsistent with, the delicacy of sentiment, the refinement of thought, and reserve of action which constitute at once the surest guards and the most precious ornaments of female character Strong minds and discriminating understandings may occasionally escape; but what a vast majority of Thalia’s daughters fall victims to the practices of their own calling!

But let us return to Kyle’s boarding-house. The different pursuits adopted by these curious members of the society assembled there were to me subjects of constant entertainment. I stood well with all parties.

One day, after dinner, Lord Mountmorris seemed rather less communicative than usual, but not less cheerful. He took out his watch, made a speech, as customary, drank.his *tipple, *as he denominated the brandy and water, but seemed rather impatient. At length, a loud rap announced somebody of consequence, and the Marquis of Ely was named.

Lord Mountmorn.s rose with his usual ceremony, made a very low bow to the company, looked again at his watch, repeated his congé, and made his exit. He entered the coach where Lord Ely was waiting, and away they drove. Kyle, a most curious man, instantly decided that a duel was in agitation, and turned pale at the dread of losing so good a lodger. Lieutenant Gam Johnson was of the same opinion, and equally distressed by the fear of losing his lordship’s interest for a frigate. Each snatched up his beaver, and with the utmost expedition pursued the coach. I was also rather desirous to see *the fin, *as Gam, though with a sigh I called it, and made the best of my way after the two mourners, not, however, hurrying myself so much, as, whilst they kept the coach in view, I was contented with keeping them within sight.

Our pursuit exceeded a mile, when in the distance I perceived that the coach had stopped at Donnybrook-lair green, where on every eighth of June, many an eye seems to mourn for the broken skull that had protected it from expulsion. I took my time, as I was now sure of my game, and had just reached the field when I heard the firing. I then ran behind a large tree to observe further.

Cam and Kyle had flown towards the spot, and nearly tumbled ever my lord, who had received a bullet from the Hon. Francis Hely Hutchinson, late collector for Dublin, on the right side, directly under his lordship’s pistol arm. The peer had staggered and measured his length on the green sward, and I certainly thought it was all over with him. I stood snugly all the while behind my tree, not wishing to have anything to do at the coroner’s inquest, which I considered inevitable. To my astonishment, however, I saw my lord arise! and, after some colloquy, the combatants bowed to each other and separated; my lord got back to his coach with aid, and reached Frederick Street, if not in quite as good health, certainly with as high a character for bravery as when he had left it. In fact, never did any person enjoy a wound more sincerely!

He kept his chamber a month, and was inconceivably gratified by the number of inquiries daily made respecting his health-boasting ever after of the profusion of friends who thus proved their solicitude. His answer from first to last was *“no better.” *To speak truth, one-half of the querists were sent in jest by those whom his singularity diverted.

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