Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 3 (of 3)

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Jonah Barrington. Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 3 (of 3)

DEDICATION

PREFACE

PERPLEXITIES OF A BARONET

DANGERS OF REFLECTION

FORMER STATE OF MEDICINE IN IRELAND

KILLING WITH KINDNESS

SKINNING A BLACK CHILD

THE FARRIER AND WHIPPER-IN

THE RIVAL PRACTITIONERS

TRANSFUSION OF BLOOD

SWEARING NO VICE

A BARRISTER BESIEGED

GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD

RECRUITING AT CASTLEBAR

A NIGHT JOURNEY

MARTIAL LAW

BULLETIN EXTRAORDINARY

BREAKFASTS AT BALLINROBE

NEW MODE OF SERVING A PROCESS

DONNYBROOK FAIR

THE WALKING GALLOWS

CONVERSION AND INVERSION

REBEL PORTRAITS

REMINISCENCES OF WIT

COUNSELLOR LYSIGHT

FATALITIES OF MARRIAGE

A WEDDING IN OLDEN DAYS

THE LAST OF THE GERALDINES

HANGING AN ATTORNEY BY ACCIDENT

FLOGGING THE WINE-COOPERS

THE ENNISCORTHY BOAR

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The Introduction prefixed to the first volume of these Sketches somewhat developes the origin of the work, and the source of its materials. Commenced to wear away the tedium of a protracted winter, it continued, for nearly three months, the amusement of my leisure hours. During that short space the entire of the two first volumes was collected and composed.

I do not allude to this as any proof of literary expertness: on the contrary, I offer it as some apology for the inaccuracies incidental to so hasty a performance. In common with all biographical and anecdotical compositions, mine cannot affect to be exempt from small errors; but whatever they may be, I alone am responsible. Not one anecdote – character – sentence – observation – line – or even thought, was contributed or suggested to me by any living person; nor was a single page of the MS. even seen by any friend save one (and that but very partially), on whose suggestion it had been commenced, and on whose recommendation I transmitted the two first volumes to my present publisher, but with (I own) very great diffidence as to their catastrophe. On that point, however, I was most agreeably disappointed. The flattering excitement which originated the present volume appears in the dedication.

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One observation, however, I may venture, and (though singular) I have very generally found it a true one, namely, that the best writers are the most thin-skinned, and become jealous of comment, pari passu with the march of their celebrity. Even when their literary reputation has been popularly established beyond the power of “reviewing” injury, they feel more ticklish at criticism than scribblers in the fifth degree of comparison; and, as if they were afflicted with the disease called “noli me tangere,” they consider even the approach of a quill as injurious to their tranquillity. Such species of impression on either a party or a partizan has no doubt procured me the honour of the letter I have alluded to; – it is palpably the work of no ordinary penman. I regret that I must persist in my opinion both as to the lady and gentleman, and cannot relinquish my consistency as to the principle of distinction between genius and talent, though with modification, and perhaps according to my more minute view of these modern rarities.

I never found these gifts of intellect completely amalgamated in any one modern writer either in prose or poetry. Heavens and earth – flights of fancy, and matters of fact, savans and rainbows, angels, and ladies of quality, &c. &c. &c. afford very different touchstones whereby to assay the extent of human intellect.

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