Part 12 (1/2)

On the occasion referred to, O'Connell, in addressing the people, referred to the appearance of _Sow_-West, whom he humorously quizzed upon the beauty of his appearance.

In reply Mr. West said, ”Ah, my friends! it's all very well for Mr.

O'Connell to attack me upon my appearance; but I can tell you, if you saw Mr. O'Connell without his wig, he does not present a face which is much to boast of.”

To the surprise of the spectators, no less than of Mr. West himself, O'Connell walked across, pulled off his wig, stood close by West, and cried out--”There, now, which of us is the better-looking--my wig is off.”

This sally of practical humor was received with bursts of laughter and cheering. O'Connell looked admirably, exhibiting a skull which, for volume and development, was not to be surpa.s.sed.

ELECTION AND RAILWAY DINNERS.

O'Connell's enormous appet.i.te often excited surprise. He ate a prodigious quant.i.ty, even for a man of such large frame. At one of the Irish elections, he was greatly annoyed at his candidate being unseated for a few months, by the blundering decision of the a.s.sessor. On the day when the election terminated, O'Connell was engaged to dine with a Roman Catholic priest, who piqued himself not a little on the honor of entertaining the Liberator. The company a.s.sembled at the appointed hour, much dispirited at the adverse turn which the election had taken at the last moment. O'Connell himself was particularly angry, and chafed with ill-temper at the blunder of the a.s.sessor, who would not even listen to his arguments.

Dinner came on, and a turkey-pout smoked before the hospitable clergyman. ”Mr. O'Connell, what part of the fowl shall I help you to?”

cried the reverend host, with an air of _empress.e.m.e.nt_.

His ears were electrified by O'Connell's rejoinder--”Oh! hang it, cut it through the middle, and give me half the bird!”

For an orator of a style so copious and diffuse, it was singular how admirably laconic he could become when he chose. During dinner, while occupied with the viands, he would express himself with the terseness and condensation of Tacitus.

A railway company once gave a complimentary dinner at Kingstown, and O'Connell, who had supported the Bill in the House of Commons, was invited. The sea breeze on the Kingstown pier sharpened his appet.i.te. He had already partaken heartily of the second course, when one of the directors, seeing O'Connell's plate nearly empty, asked--”Pray, sir, what will you be helped to _next_?”

Hastily glancing at the dishes still untasted, O'Connell, with a full mouth, answered--”Mutton--well done--and much of it.”

SCENE AT KILLINEY.

O'Connell was a capital actor, and his dramatic delivery of a common remark was often highly impressive. Many years since, he went down to Kingstown, near Dublin, with a party, to visit a queen's s.h.i.+p-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 old promontory of Howth, jutting forth into the sea. To the south were the Dublin and Wicklow mountains, enclosing the lovely vale of Shanganah, rising picturesquely against the horizon. The scene was beautiful, with all the varieties of sunlight and shadow.

O'Connell enjoyed it with nearly as much rapture as his youthful and ardent companion, who broke forth--”It is all Ireland--oh! how beautiful! Thank G.o.d, we see nothing English here. Everything we see is Iris.h.!.+”

His rapture was interrupted by O'Connell, gently laying his hand on his shoulder, and pointing to the s.h.i.+p-of-war at anchor, as he exclaimed--”_A speck of the British power_!”

The thought was electric. That speck, significantly pointed out by O'Connell, suggested the whole painful history of his fatherland to the memory of the ardent young Irishman.

AN INSOLENT JUDGE.

The judges themselves often came in for a share of his animadversions, when he deemed their judicial or other conduct deserved public censure; and when he pleaded as an advocate before them, their resentment betrayed itself. Singular to say, his practice was never injuriously affected by his boldness outside. Other men have suffered vitally from the political or personal hostility of judges--Curran was one of them.

But O'Connell beat down the most formidable hatred, and compelled, by the sheer force of legal and intellectual power, the bitterest and most obstinate personal rancor to give way. He compelled pompous, despotic, and hostile judges to yield. He could not be awed. If they were haughty, he was proud. If they were malevolent, he was cuttingly sarcastic.

It happened that he was by at an argument in one of the courts of Dublin, in the course of which a young Kerry attorney was called upon by the opposing counsel, either to admit a statement as evidence, or to hand in some doc.u.ments he could legally detain. O'Connell was not specially engaged. The discussion arose on a new trial motion--the issue to go down to the a.s.sizes. He did not interfere until the demand was made on the attorney, but he then stood up and told him to make no admission.

He was about to resume his seat, when the judge, Baron M'Cleland, said, with a peculiar emphasis, ”Mr. O'Connell, have you a _brief_ in this case?”

”No, my lord, I have not; but I _will_ have one, when the case goes down to the a.s.sizes.”