IRELAND SIXTY YEARS AGO. THE character of Ireland sixty or seventy years ago was an anomaly to the moral world. Though united to England for seven centuries, and every effort made during that period to assimilate the people to her sober, prudent, and wise-thinking neighbours, little progress seems to have been made in ingrafting their habits, manners, and modes of thinking on the wild Irish stock. The laws were promulgated, and sometimes enforced with unrelenting severity; yet there was no advance in the general improvement 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 eighteenth century, as when Maguire of Fermanagh, in the sixteenth, 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 people, that laws were inoperative, evincing the truth of the satirist's remark, Quid prosunt sine moribus leges. In former numbers of the UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE, we were enabled to lay before our readers various details of the unfortunate George Robert Fitzgerald; the strange and almost incompatible traits of character he displayed; his alternate gentleness and ferocity, love of justice and violation of 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." The instances we have now to lay before our readers are examples of a kindred spirit existing among persons born and living within the pale of civilization, brought up among Ireland's best inhabitants, in constant intercourse with intelligent strangers, and having no excuse from ignorance or seclusion, for violations of law and justice. We shall begin with the metropolis. BUCKS AND RIOTERS IN DUBLIN. Ar 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, sixty or seventy years ago, which present a most extraordinary contrast to society here 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 Ormondmarket on Ormond-quay, which caused frequent conflicts; and it is in the memory of many now living that the streets, and particularly the quays and bridges, were impassable in conse quence 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 in the * Nos. 91, 92, and 93-July to September, 1840. present efficient state of our police, that for whole days the intercourse of the city was interrupted by the feuds of these parties. The few miserable watchmen, inefficient for any purpose of protection, looked on in terror, and thought themselves well acquited of their duty if they escaped from stick or stone. A friend of ours has told us that he has gone down to Essex-bridge, when he has 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 a thousand 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 Broad-stone, while the bridges and quays were strewed with the maimed and wounded. It was reported of Alderman Emerson, when lord mayor 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 of the 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 their 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 Ormondmarket 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 Riots such as these we have described to have been frequent, seem hardly credible. But it is to be remembered that at that period there was no system of efficient police, and in the day time the streets were 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 insufficiency 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" a few years ago. Various attempts had also been made to establish an efficient civic magistracy, but with such small benefit that until a comparatively recent period a large portion of the magisterial duties within the city were performed by county magistrates, who had no legal authority whatever to act in them. 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, we believe, 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." their youth and respecting their rank, had 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 swinging 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. On one occasion, the lads had hauled a wretch whom they detected, to the pump, where he was subjected to the usual discipline. Dr. Wilder, a fellow, was passing by, and pretending to interfere for the man, 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 nails were sent for, and an ear was fastened with a tenpenny nail; the lads dispersed, and he remained for a considerable time bleeeding 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, who published the Hibernian Journal, and who 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 and 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 suffocatedindeed, 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 cœtum infuriam admisisse in typographum quendam nomine Mills qui nefariis flagitiis nobiliora quæque collegii membra in chartis suis lacessivit," &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 he seized a basket of oranges, and amused himself in pelting the performers. Mr. Sheridan was then manager, and he 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 fifty of his associates, gownsmen and others. They rushed towards the stage, to which they made their way through 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 clothespresses, and every place where a man might be concealed-and this they the facetiously called feeling for him. He had fortunately escaped, and 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 ascendancy of rank, and the terror those "bucks" inspired, that the general opinion was, it would be impossible that any jury could find a gentleman guilty of an assault upon a player. A barrister in court had remarked with a sneer, that he had never seen a 66 gen tleman player." "Then, sir," says Sheridan, "I hope you see one now." Kelly was found guilty of a violent assault, sentenced to pay a fine of five hundred 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 inan named M'Alister, whose fate excited as much pity as execration. He was a native of Waterford, and one of the most distinguished young members of the university for talent and conduct. He supped one night at a tavern, with a companion named Vandeleur, and they amused themselves by cutting their names on the table, with the motto, quis separabit. 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 end 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 man of a most amiable disposition. Had he lived in better days, he might have been distinguished for gentleness and humanity; the spirit of his 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 breathes, and the polished elegance of the versification, evince at once the taste of a cultivated mind, and the feelings of a kind and warm heart. A few 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 brother, cruel fortune's slave, With folded arms and brow depressed in care, Yet, torn from objects which my heart holds dear, Be ever watchful o'er Eliza's ways; Should stern misfortune threat, oh! be thou near, Among the gentry of the period was a class called "Bucks," whose 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 confined to individuals, but extended through all the members of a family. We remember 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." We also remember 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 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 soubriquet 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. 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 their delinquency. There was at that time a celebrated coffee-house called "Norris's," near, we believe, 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 the 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 (Sheehy, we believe, was his name) 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 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 Buck Sheehy was about to pin him. As he drew back for the lunge, his terrified opponent, in an impulse of self-preservation, sprung within his point, and without aim or design pierced him to the heart. 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. The excitement of these men was not, however, always of a cruel or violent kind. Their eccentricities were often of a peaceful character, and displayed themselves in a more |