  Arthur O'Leary was born in the year 1729, at Acres in the parish of Fanlobbus, near Dunmanway, in the western part of the County of Cork. His parents were undistinguished amongst the industrious and oppressed peasantry, who at the time of his birth suffered under the operation of the penal laws. The family from which he descended was early distinguished in Irish history; but if his immediate ancestors ever enjoyed a higher rank in the social scale than that which is derived from successful industry, their circumstances had changed long before his birth, as a name which excited the respect of his countrymen, and a mind worthy the possessor of such a name, were the only inheritance of which he could boast. In the year 1747, after having acquired such share of classical literature as the times he lived in would permit, O'Leary went to France, with the intention of devoting himself to the service of the Catholic Church. A convent of Capuchin Friars at St. Malo in Brittany, was the school where O'Leary imbibed the principles of the learning, virtue, and philanthropy, which during a long life formed the prominent traits in his character. After having received holy orders, he continued to live in the monastery for some time. In the year 1771 he returned to Ireland, and became resident in the city of Cork. Shortly after his arrival there, he contributed to the erection of a small chapel, in which he afterwards officiated, and which was generally known in Cork as "Father O'Leary's Chapel." Here he preached on the Sundays and principal festivals of the year to persons of different religious persuasions who crowded it to excess when it was known that he was to appear in the pulpit. His sermons were chiefly remarkable for a happy train of strong moral reasoning, bold figure, and scriptural allusion. HIS CONTROVERSY WITH AN INFIDEL.Some time in the year 1775, a book was published, the title of which was—"Thoughts on Nature and Religion," which contained much gross blasphemy. Its author, a Scottish physician of the name of Blair, residing in Cork, undertook to be the champion of free-thinking in religion; and, under the plausible pretext of vindicating the conduct of Servetus in his controversy with Calvin, this writer boldly attacked some of the most universally received articles of the Christian Creed. The work attracted some share of public attention. A poetical effusion in verse was addressed to Blair in reply by a minister of the Protestant Church; and an Anabaptist minister also entered the lists with a pamphlet nearly as sceptical as the one he professed to answer. Father O'Leary's friends thought his style of controversy better suited to silence the Doctor than that of either of the tried opponents, and persuaded him to enter the lists. They were not disappointed. His reply crushed Blair; while his wit and logic and grand toleration raised him to the esteem and gratitude of his fellow-men. His first letter opens with this beautiful introduction: "Sir—Your long expected performance has at length made its appearance. If the work tended to promote the happiness of society, to animate our hopes, to subdue our passions, to instruct man in the happy science of purifying the polluted recesses of a vitiated heart, to confirm him in his exalted notion of the dignity of his nature, and thereby to inspire him with sentiments averse to whatever may debase the excellence of his origin, the public would be indebted to you; your name would be recorded amongst the assertors of morality and religion; and I myself, though brought up in a different persuasion from yours, would be the first to offer my incense at the shrine of merit. But the tendency of your performance is to deny the divinity of Christ and the immortality of the soul. In denying the first, you sap the foundations of religion; you cut off at one blow the merit of our faith, the comfort of our hope, and the motives of our charity. In denying the immortality of the soul, you degrade human nature, and confound man with the vile and perishable insect. In denying both, you overturn the whole system of religion, whether natural or revealed; and in denying religion, you deprive the poor of the only comfort which supports them under their distresses and afflictions; you wrest from the hands of the powerful and rich the only bridle to their injustices and passions, and pluck from the hearts of the guilty the greatest check to their crimes—I mean this remorse of conscience which can never be the result of a handful of organized matter; this interior monitor, which makes us blush in the morning at the disorders of the foregoing night; which erects in the breast of the tyrant a tribunal superior to his power; and whose importunate voice upbraids a Cain in the wilderness with the murder of his brother, and a Nero in his palace with that of his mother." Deploring the folly of him who thinks "his soul is no more than a subtile vapor, which in death is to be breathed out in the air," he holds that such a person should "conceal his horrid belief with more secrecy than the Druids concealed their mysteries. * * In doing otherwise, the infidel only brings disgrace on himself; for the notion of religion is so deeply impressed on our minds, that the bold champions who would fain destroy it, are considered by the generality of mankind as public pests, spreading disorder and mortality wherever they appear; and in our feelings we discover the delusions of cheating philosophy, which can never introduce a religion more pure than that of the Christian, nor confer a more glorious privilege on man than that of an immortal soul." HIS INTERVIEW WITH DR. MANN.Before he entered into a controversy with Doctor Blair, he deemed it prudent, owing to the state of sufferance in which Catholic priests then lived in Ireland, to obtain the sanction of the Protestant bishop of the diocese. To this end he waited on Doctor Mann at the episcopal palace. The interview is said to have been humorous in the extreme. O'Leary's figure, joined to an originality of manner, sterling wit, and an imagination which gave a color to every object on which it played, made him a visitor of no common kind; and as the bishop was not cast in the mould of "handsome orthodoxy," the meeting was long remembered by both parties. After some explanation, Doctor Mann gave his consent to the undertaking; in consequence of which the public were soon gratified by the appearance of his letters to Blair, whose discomfiture was so complete that he never wrote a public letter afterwards. CONTROVERSY WITH JOHN WESLEY.Wesley published in January, 1786, what he called, "A Letter containing the Civil Principles of Roman Catholics;" also, "a Defence of the Protestant Association." In these letters he maintained that Papists "ought not to be tolerated by any government—Protestant, Mohometan, or Pagan." In support of this doctrine, he says— "Again, those who acknowledge the spiritual power of the Pope, can give no security of their allegiance to any government; but all Roman Catholics acknowledge this: therefore they can give no security for their allegiance." In support of this line of argument, he treated his readers to this bit of lively information:— "But it might be objected, 'nothing dangerous to English liberty is to be apprehended from them.' I am not so certain of that. Some time since a Romish priest came to one I know, and after talking with her largely, broke out, 'You are no heretic; you have the experience of a real Christian.' 'And would you,' she asked, 'burn me alive?' He said, 'God forbid! unless it were for the good of the Church.'" In noticing which Father O'Leary humorously replies— "A priest then said to a woman, whom Mr. Wesley knows, 'I see you are no heretic; you have the experience of a real Christian.' 'And would you burn me?' says she. 'God forbid!' replied the priest, 'except for the good of the Church!' Now, this priest must be descended from some of those who attempted to blow up a river with gunpowder, in order to drown a city. Or he must have taken her for a witch, whereas, by his own confession, she 'was no heretic.' A gentleman whom I know declared to me, upon his honor, that he heard Mr. Wesley repeat, in a sermon preached by him in the city of Cork, the following words: 'A little bird cried out in Hebrew, O Eternity! Eternity! who can tell the length of Eternity?' I am, then, of opinion that a little Hebrew bird gave Mr. Wesley the important information about the priest and the woman. One story is as interesting as the other, and both are equally alarming to the Protestant interest." Alluding to the statute of Henry VI, which bound every Englishman of the Pale to shave his upper lip, or clip his whiskers, to distinguish himself from an Irishman, he says: "It had tended more to their mutual interest, and the glory of that monarch's reign, not to go to the nicety of splitting a hair, but encourage the growth of their fleeces, and inspire them with such mutual love for each other as to induce them to kiss one another's beards, as brothers salute each other at Constantinople, after a few days' absence. I am likewise of opinion that Mr. Wesley, who prefaces his letter with 'the interest of the Protestant religion,' would reflect more honor on his ministry in promoting the happiness of the people, by preaching love and union, than in widening the breach, and increasing their calamities by division. The English and Irish were, at that time, of the same religion, but, divided in their affections, were miserable. Though divided in speculative opinions, if united in sentiment, we would be happy. The English settlers breathed the vital air in England before they inhaled the soft breezes of our temperate climate. The present generation can say, 'Our fathers and grandfathers have been born, bred, and buried here. We are Irishmen, as the descendants of the Normans who have been born in England are Englishmen.' "Thus, born in an island in which the ancients might have placed their Hesperian gardens and golden apples, the temperature of the climate, and the quality of the soil inimical to poisonous insects, have cleansed our veins from the sour and acid blood of the Scythians and Saxons. We begin to open our eyes, and to learn wisdom from the experience of ages. We are tender-hearted; we are good-natured; we have feelings. We shed tears on the urns of the dead; deplore the loss of hecatombs of victims slaughtered on gloomy altars of religious bigotry; cry on seeing the ruins of cities over which fanaticism has displayed the funeral torch; and sincerely pity the blind zeal of our Scotch and English neighbors, whose constant character is to pity none, for erecting the banners of persecution at a time when the Inquisition is abolished in Spain and Milan, and the Protestant gentry are caressed at Rome, and live unmolested in the luxuriant plains of France and Italy. "The statute of Henry VI is now grown obsolete. The razor of calamity has shaved our lower and upper lips, and given us smooth faces. Our land is uncultivated; our country a desert; our natives are forced into the service of foreign kings, storming towns, and in the very heat of slaughter tempering Irish courage with Irish mercy. All our misfortunes flow from long-reigning intolerance and the storms which, gathering first in the Scotch and English atmosphere, never failed to burst over our heads. "We are too wise to quarrel about religion. The Roman Catholics sing their psalms in Latin, with a few inflections of the voice. Our Protestant neighbors sing the same psalms in English, on a larger scale of musical notes. We never quarrel with our honest and worthy neighbors, the Quakers, for not singing at all; nor shall we ever quarrel with Mr. Wesley for raising his voice to heaven, and warbling forth his canticles on whatever tune he pleases, whether it be the tune of 'Guardian Angels' or 'Langolee.' We love social harmony, and in civil music hate discordance. Thus, when we go to the shambles, we never inquire into the butcher's religion, but into the quality of his meat. We care not whether the ox was fed in the Pope's territories, or on the mountains of Scotland, provided the joint be good; for though there be many heresies in old books, we discover neither heresy nor superstition in beef or claret. We divide them cheerfully with one another; and though of different religions, we sit over the bowl with as much cordiality as if we were at a love-feast." He concludes with the following remarkable paragraph, in which humor, eloquence, and philanthropy, are happily blended—a paragraph worthy the Honorary Chaplain of the Irish Brigade;— "We have obtained of late the privilege of planting tobacco in Ireland, and tobacconists want paper. Let Mr. Wesley then come with me, as the curate and barber went to shave and bless the library of Don Quixote. All the old books, old canons, sermons, and so forth, tending to kindle feuds, or promote rancor, let us fling out at the windows. Society will lose nothing: the tobacconists will benefit by the spoils of antiquity. And if, upon mature deliberation we decree that Mr. Wesley's 'Journal,' and his apology for the Association's 'Appeal,' should share the same fate with the old buckrams, we will procure them a gentle fall. After having rocked ourselves in the large and hospitable cradle of the Free Press, where the peer and the commoner, the priest and the alderman, the friar and the swaddler, MEETING OF O'LEARY AND WESLEY."In a short time after this controversy had concluded, the parties met at the house of a mutual friend. Their different publications were mentioned; but kindness and sincere good feeling towards each other softened down the asperities of sectarian repulsiveness; and after an evening spent in a manner highly entertaining and agreeable, they parted, each expressing his esteem for the other, and both giving the example, that public difference on a religious or political subject is quite consistent with the exercise of the duties of personal kindness and esteem. Wesley is said, in this instance, to have relaxed into a most agreeable companion; and O'Leary, by his wit, archness, and information, was an inexhaustible source of delight, entertainment, and instruction." DR. O'LEARY AND FATHER CALLANAN.Dr. O'Leary, though with great talents for a controversialist, always sedulously avoided the angry theme of religious disputation. Once, however, notwithstanding his declared aversion to polemics, he was led into a controversy. While he was at Cork, he received a letter through the Post Office, the writer of which, in terms expressive of the utmost anxiety, stated that he was a clergyman of the established church, on whose mind impressions favorable to the Catholic Creed had been made by some of O'Leary's sermons. The writer then professing his enmity to angry controversy, wished to seek further information on some articles of the Catholic creed. His name he forbore to reveal. O'Leary, anxious to propagate the doctrine of his Church, replied in a manner perfectly satisfactory to his anonymous correspondent. Other doubts were expressed, and dissipated, until the correspondence had extended to eight or ten long letters. O'Leary, in joy at his supposed triumph, whispered the important secret to a few ecclesiastical confidants; among whom was his bosom friend, the Rev. Lawrence Callanan, a Francisan friar, of Cork. Their congratulations and approbation were not wanting, to urge forward the champion of orthodoxy. His arguments bore all before them; even the obstacles arising from family and legal notions, were disregarded by the enthusiastic convert, and he besought O'Leary to name a time and place, at which he might lift the mysterious vizor by which he had hitherto been concealed; and above all, have an opportunity of expressing his gratitude to his friend and teacher. The appointed hour arrived. O'Leary arranged his orthodox wig, put on his Sunday suit of sable, and sallied forth with all collected gravity of a man fully conscious of the novelty and responsibility of the affair in which he was engaged. He arrived at the appointed place of meeting some minutes after the fixed time, and was told that a respectable clergyman awaited his arrival in an adjoining parlor. O'Leary enters the room, where he finds, sitting at the table, with the whole correspondence before him, his brother friar, Lawrence Callanan, who, either from an eccentric freak, or from a wish to call O'Leary's controversial powers into action, had thus drawn him into a lengthened correspondence. The joke, in O'Leary's opinion, however, was carried too far, and it required the sacrifice of the correspondence and the interference of mutual friends; to effect a reconciliation. O'LEARY AND THE QUAKERS.In his "Plea for Liberty of Conscience," Father O'Leary pays the following high tribute to that sect:— "The Quakers," said he, "to their eternal credit, and to the honor of humanity, are the only persons who have exhibited a meekness and forbearance, worthy the imitation of those who have entered into a covenant of mercy by their baptism. William Penn, the great Legislator of that people, had the success of a conqueror in establishing and defending his colony amongst savage tribes, without ever drawing the sword; the goodness of the most benevolent rulers in treating his subjects as his own children; and the tenderness of a universal father, who opened his arms to all mankind without distinction of sect or party. In his republic, it was not the religious creed but personal merit, that entitled every member of society to the protection and emoluments of the State. Rise from your grave, great man! and teach those sovereigns who make their subjects miserable on account of their catechisms, the method of making them happy. They! whose dominions resemble enormous prisons, where one part of the creation are distressed captives, and the other their unpitying keepers." HIS RECEPTION AT THE ROTUNDO BY THE VOLUNTEERS."It was impossible that the high and distinguished claims to respect and esteem which O'Leary possessed, should escape unnoticed by the Volunteer association. Never was a more glorious era in the history of Ireland, than whilst the wealth, valor, and genius of her inhabitants became combined for the welfare of their country—whilst every citizen was a soldier, and every paltry political or sectarian difference and distinction was lost in the full glow and fervor of the great constitutional object, which roused the energies and fixed the attention of the people. It was a spectacle worthy the proudest days of Greece or Rome; but it passed away like the sudden gleam of a summer sun. O'Leary was exceeded by none of his contemporaries as a patriot: but, though the coarse and misshapen habit of a poor friar of the order of St. Francis forebade his intrusion into the more busy scene of national politics, his pen was not inactive in enlightening and directing his countrymen in their constitutional pursuits. A highly respectable body of the Volunteers, the Irish Brigade, conferred on him the honorary dignity of Chaplain; and many of the measures discussed at the National Convention held in Dublin, had been previously submitted to his consideration and judgment. On the 11th of November, 1783, the same day on which the message said to be from Lord Kenmare was read at the National Convention, then, holding its meetings in the Rotundo, Father O'Leary visited that celebrated assemblage. At his arrival at the outer door, the entire guard of the Volunteers received him under a full salute, and rested arms: he was ushered into the meeting amidst the cheers of the assembled delegates; and in the course of the debate which followed, his name was mentioned in the most flattering and complimenting manner, by most of the speakers. On his journey from Cork to the Capital on that occasion, his arrival had been anticipated in Kilkenny, where he remained to dine; and in consequence, the street in which the hotel at which he stopped was situate, was filled from an early hour with persons of every class, who sought to pay a testimony of respect to an individual, whose writings had so powerfully tended to promote the welfare and happiness of his countrymen." O'LEARY AND JOHN O'KEEFE.In the Recollections of John O'Keefe, the following anecdote is related:— "In 1775 I was in company with Father O'Leary, at the house of Flynn, the printer in Cork. O'Leary had a fine smooth brogue; his learning was extensive, and his wit brilliant. He was tall and thin, with, a long, pale, and pleasant visage, smiling and expressive. His dress was an entire suit of brown, of the old shape; a narrow stock, tight about his neck; his wig amply powdered, with a high poking foretop. In the year, 1791, my son Tottenham and I met him in St. James's Park, (London,) at the narrow entrance near Spring Gardens. A few minutes after, we were joined accidentally by Jemmy Wilder, well known in Dublin—once the famous Macheath, in Smock Alley—a worthy and respectable character, of a fine, bold, athletic figure, but violent and extravagant in his mode of acting. He had quitted the stage, and commenced picture-dealer; and when we met him in the Park, was running after a man, who, he said, had bought a picture of Rubens for three shillings and sixpence at a broker's stall in Drury-lane, and which was to make his (Wilder's) fortune. Our loud laughing at O'Leary's jokes, and his Irish brogue, and our stopping up the pathway, which is here very narrow, brought a crowd about us. O'Leary was very fond of the drama, and delighted in the company of the 'Glorious Boys,' as he called the actors—particularly that of Johnny Johnstone, for his fine singing in a room." O'LEARY AND THE IRISH PARLIAMENT.On the 26th February, 1782, the following interesting debate took place, the subject under consideration being a clause in the Catholic Bill directed against the friars:— "Sir Lucius O'Brien said, he did not approve of the regulars, though his candor must acknowledge that many men amongst them have displayed great abilities. Ganganelli (Clement XIV) and the Reverend Doctor Arthur O'Leary are distinguished among the Franciscans; and many great men have been produced in the Benedictine order. He saw no temptation that regulars had for coming here, if it was not to abandon certain competence where they were, for certain poverty in this kingdom. "Mr. Grattan said, he could not hear the name of Father O'Leary mentioned without paying him that tribute of acknowledgment so justly due to his merit. At the time that this very man lay under the censure of a law which, in his own country, made him subject to transportation or death, from religious distinctions; and at the time that a prince of his own religion threatened this country with an invasion, this respectable character took up his pen, and unsolicited, and without a motive but that of real patriotism, to urge his own communion to a disposition of peace, and to support the law which had sentenced him to transportation. A man of learning—a philosopher—a Franciscan—did the most eminent service to his country in the hour of its greatest danger. He brought out a publication that would do honor to the most celebrated name. The whole kingdom must bear witness to its effect, by the reception they gave it. Poor in everything but genius and philosophy, he had no property at stake, no family to fear for; but descending from the contemplation of wisdom, and abandoning the ornaments of fancy, he humanely undertook the task of conveying duty and instruction to the lowest class of the people. If I did not know him (continued Mr. Grattan) to be a Christian clergyman, I should suppose him by his works to be a philosopher of the Augustine age. The regulars are a harmless body of men, and should not be disturbed. "Mr. St. George declared, notwithstanding his determined opposition to the regulars, he would, for the sake of one exalted character of their body, be tolerant to the rest. But he, at the same time, would uniformly oppose the tolerating any more regular clergy than what were at present in the kingdom. "Mr. Yelverton said, that he was proud to call such a man as Dr. O'Leary his particular friend. His works might be placed upon a footing with the finest writers of the age. They originated from the urbanity of the heart; because unattached to the world's affairs, he could have none but the purest motives of rendering service to the cause of morality and his country. Had he not imbibed every sentiment of toleration before he knew Father O'Leary, he should be proud to adopt sentiments of toleration from him. He should yield to the sense of the committee in respect to the limitation of regulars; because, he believed, no invitation which could be held out would bring over another O'Leary." "In a more advanced stage of the Catholic Bill, on the 5th of March, these eulogies gave rise to some words between 'the rival orators,' as Messrs. Flood and Grattan were then designated in parliament. 'I am not,' said Flood towards the end of a speech, 'the missionary of a religion I do not profess; nor do I speak eulogies on characters I will not imitate.' No challenge of this nature ever was given by either of these great men in vain. Mr. Grattan spoke at some length to the subject under debate, and concluded in these words: 'Now, one word respecting Dr. O'Leary. Something has been said about eulogies pronounced, and missionaries of religion. I am not ashamed of the part which I took in that gentleman's panegyric; nor shall I ever think it a disgrace to pay the tribute of praise to the philosopher and the virtuous man.'" HIS INTERVIEW WITH DANIEL DANSER.Father O'Leary, when in London, had a great desire to see Daniel Danser; but finding access to the king of misers very difficult, invented a singular plan to gain his object. He sent a message to the miser, to the effect that he had been in the Indies, become acquainted with a man of immense wealth named Danser, who had died intestate, and, without a shadow of doubt, was a relative of his. It may be that a recent dream, coupled with the troubled state of the palm of his right hand, had their share in inducing Daniel to allow the witty friar into his apartment. Once entered, O'Leary contrived to sit down without depriving Mr. Danser of the least portion of his dust, which, seemed to please him much; for Daniel held that cleaning furniture was an invention of the enemy; that it only helped to wear it out; consequently, regarded his dust as the protector of his household gods. Daniel's fond dreams of wealth from the Indies being dispelled, O'Leary began to console him by an historical review of the Danser family, whose genealogy he traced from David, who danced before the Israelites, down to the Welsh jumpers, then contemporaries of dancing notoriety. His wit triumphed: for a moment the sallow brow of avarice became illumined by the indications of a delighted mind, and Danser had courage enough to invite his visitor to partake of a glass of wine, which, he said, he would procure for his refreshment. A cordial shake hands was the return made for O'Leary's polite refusal of so expensive a compliment; and he came from the house followed by its strange tenant, who, to the amusement of O'Leary, and the astonishment of the only other person who witnessed the scene, solicited the favor of another visit. A FOP."The "two-edged sword of wit," as that faculty has been termed, was wielded by O'Leary in the more serious circumstances of life, as well as in its playful hours. An instance where the painful exercise of this was happily spared, occurred at one of the meetings of the English Catholics, during the celebrated Blue Book Controversy. One of the individuals who was expected to advocate the objectionable designation of "protesting Catholic dissenters," an appellation equally ludicrous and unnecessary, was remarkable for an affected mode of public speaking. What in dress is termed foppish, would be appropriate as applied to his oratory. He was no admirer of O'Leary, and the feeling of dislike was as mutual as could well be conceived. Him, therefore, O'Leary selected as the opponent with whom he meant to grapple. Those to whom he communicated his intention, and who knew his powers, looked forward with expectation "on tiptoe" for a scene of enjoyment that no anticipation could exaggerate. Disappointment was, however, their lot. The meeting passed over quietly, and neither the objectionable matter nor speaker was brought forward. However much his friends regretted this circumstance, O'Leary was himself sincerely pleased; for he never desired to give unnecessary pain. The gentlemen in concert with whom he acted, dined together after the meeting, and the conversation happening to turn on the disappointment which they had experienced in the result of the debate, one of them who knew O'Leary intimately, inquired what line of argument he had intended to pursue, if the meeting had assumed the objectionable aspect which was dreaded—this was applying the torch to gunpowder: he commenced an exhibition of the ludicrous so like what would have taken place, so true in manner and matter to what every one who knew the parties could anticipate, that the assemblage was convulsed with laughter to a degree that made it memorable in the recollections of all who witnessed it." HIS PERSON AND MODE OF ARGUMENT.Mr. Butler, in his Historical Memoirs, describes O'Leary's person and mode of argument thus:— "The appearance of Father O'Leary was simple. In his countenance there was a mixture of goodness, solemnity, and drollery, which fixed every eye that beheld it. No one was more generally loved or revered; no one less assuming or more pleasing in his manner. Seeing his external simplicity, persons with whom he was arguing were sometimes tempted to treat him cavalierly; but then the solemnity with which he would mystify his adversary, and ultimately lead him into the most distressing absurdity was one of the most delightful scenes that conversation ever exhibited." O'LEARY AND "CAPTAIN ROCK."In Tom Moore's "Memoirs of Captain Rock," the outlaw gives the following humorous sketch:— "The appearance of Father Arthur at our little chapel was quite unexpected. We had heard, indeed, that he was proceeding through distant parts of the country, but we had no idea that he would pay us a visit. The mind of man is a strange compound of opposite passion. I had everything to apprehend from the poor friar's preaching; yet, strange as it may appear, I was almost willing to have all my bright scenes overturned, provided I could have the pleasure to see and hear the celebrated Father O'Leary. He opposed our designs, disapproved of our motives, and censured our intentions; yet without having ever seen him, we loved—almost adored him. Fame had wafted his name even to Rockglen; and how could we but venerate a man who had exalted the character of Irishmen, vindicated our oppressed country, and obtained from the ranks of Protestantism, friends for our insulted creed. "Besides, he was peculiarly adapted to our taste. He made the world laugh at the foibles of our enemies, and put us in good humor with ourselves. It was not, therefore, without some slight satisfaction that we were informed from the altar that the good friar meant to address us on our manifold transgressions. Never did men manifest such eagerness to receive reproof. At the sound of his name, there was a general rush towards the altar. The old women, for the first time in their lives, ceased coughing, and the old men desisted from spitting. The short people were elevated on their toes, and the tall people suffered their hats (felt ones) to be crushed as flat as pancakes, sooner then incommode their neighbors—a degree of politeness seldom practised in more polished assemblies. All breathed short and thick; and much as we venerated our good priest, we fancied he was particularly tedious in the lecture he thought fit to read us on our neglecting to go to confession, and on our dilatoriness in paying the last Easter dues. At length he concluded by announcing Father O'Leary." LOTS DRAWN TO HAVE HIM AT DINNER.In 1779, O'Leary visited Dublin on business connected with a bill before parliament, which aimed at the destruction of the friars. During his visit to Dublin, at this period, the following circumstance, quite characteristic of O'Leary, is said to have taken place. He accidentally met, in the lobby of the House of Commons, the late Lord Avonmore, then Mr. Yelverton, and two gentlemen, members of the legislature; who, on his appearance, entered into a friendly altercation to determine with which of them O'Leary should, on the next day, share the splendid hospitality which reigned in the metropolis during the sessions of parliament. It was at length decided that the prize of his unrivalled wit and sociability should be determined by lot. O'Leary was an amused and silent spectator of the contest. The fortunate winner was congratulated on his success; and the rivals separated to meet on the morrow. When the hour of dinner was come, O'Leary forgot which of his three friends was to be his host. It was too late to make formal inquiries; and, as he was the honored guest, he dared not absent himself. In this difficulty, his ready imagination suggested an expedient. His friends, he recollected, lived in the same square, and he therefore, some short time after the usual dinner hour, sent a servant to inquire at each of the houses—'if Father O'Leary was there?' At the two first, where application was made, the reply was in the negative; but at the last, the porter answered, that 'he was not there; but that dinner was ordered to be kept back, as he was every moment expected.' Thus directed, 'Father Arthur's' apology for delay was a humorous and detailed account of his expedient—the evening flew quickly away on the wings of eloquence and wit, and the laughable incident was long remembered and frequently repeated. Father O'Leary's great intimacy with the leading Protestants of London, gave rise to a rumor that he, like Lord Dunboyne and Mr. Kirwin, had read his recantation. He contradicts it in the following letter:—
O'LEARY AND THE RECTOR.A Protestant rector invited O'Leary to see his parish church, a building remarkable for its architectural beauty. While the friar was viewing the building, the rector thought he was contrasting its nakedness with the interior beauty of the Roman Catholic churches, and observed: "You perceive, Mr. O'Leary," said he, "that, different from you, we are very sparing of ornaments in our churches; we have neither paintings nor statuary to attract the worshipper's attention." "Ah!" replied O'Leary, with an arch smile, "you are young housekeepers, you know." LADY MORGAN.Lady Morgan, in her "Wild Irish Girl," speaking of "Father John," chaplain of the Prince of Coolavin, says:—"Father John was modelled on the character of the Dean of Sligo, Dr. Flynn, one of those learned, liberal, and accomplished gentlemen of the Irish Catholic hierarchy of that day, whom foreign travel and education, and consequent intercourse with European society and opinions, sent back to Ireland for its advantage and illustration, thus turning the penalties of its shallow and jealous government into a national benefit. At the head of this distinguished order stood the illustrious Father O'Leary, the Catholic Dean Swift of his time, the champion of peace, and the eloquent preacher of Christian charity. His noble works live to attest his fitness to counsel his country for her good, while his brilliant wit kept up her reputation for that splendid gift which penal statutes can neither give nor take away." A BATCH OF INTERESTING ANECDOTES.In his "Personal Sketches," Sir Jonah Barrington gives us a portrait of Father O'Leary:— "I frequently had an opportunity of meeting at my father-in-law Mr. Grogan's, where he often dined, a most worthy priest, Father O'Leary, and have listened frequently, with great zest, to anecdotes which he used to tell with a quaint yet spirited humor, quite unique. His manner, his air, his countenance, all bespoke wit, talent, and a good heart. I liked his company excessively, and have often regretted I did not cultivate his acquaintance more, or recollect his witticisms better. It was singular, but it was a fact, that even before Father O'Leary opened his lips, a stranger would say, 'That is an Irishman,' and, at the same time, guess him to be a priest. "One anecdote in particular I remember. Coming from St. Omers, he told us, he stopped a few days to visit a brother-priest in the town of Boulogne-sur-Mer. Here he heard of a great curiosity, which all people were running to see—curious bear that some fishermen had taken at sea out of a wreck; it had sense, and attempted to utter a sort of lingo, which they called patois, but which nobody understood. "O'Leary gave his six sous to see the wonder which was shown at the port by candle-light, and was a very odd kind of animal, no doubt. The bear had been taught a hundred tricks, all to be performed at the keeper's word of command. It was late in the evening when O'Leary saw him, and the bear seemed sulky; the keeper, however, with a short spike fixed at the end of a pole, made him move about briskly. He marked on sand what o'clock it was, with his paw; and distinguished the men and women in a very comical way: in fact, our priest was quite diverted. The beast at length grew tired—the keeper hit him with the pole—he stirred a little, but continued quite sullen; his master coaxed him—no! he would not work! At length, the brute of a keeper gave him two or three sharp pricks with the goad, when he roared out most tremendously, and rising on his hind-legs, swore at his tormentors in very good native Irish. O'Leary waited no longer, but went immediately to the mayor, whom he informed that the blackguard fishermen had sewed up a poor Irishman in a bear's-skin, and were showing him about for six sous! The civic dignitary, who had himself seen the bear, would not believe our friend. At last, O'Leary prevailed on him to accompany him to the room. On their arrival, the bear was still on duty, and O'Leary stepped up to him, says:—'Cianos tha'n thu, a Phadhrig?' (How d'ye do, Pat?) 'Slan, go raimh math agut!' (Pretty well, thank you,) says the bear. The people were surprised to hear how plainly he spoke—but the mayor ordered him directly to be ripped up; and after some opposition, and a good deal of difficulty, Pat stepped forth stark naked out of the bear's-skin wherein he had been fourteen or fifteen days most cleverly stitched. The women made off—the men stood astonished—and the mayor ordered his keepers to be put in goal unless they satisfied him; but that was presently done. The bear afterwards told O'Leary that he was very well fed, and did not care much about the clothing; only they worked him too hard: the fishermen had found him at sea on a hencoop, which had saved him from going to the bottom, with a ship wherein he had a little venture of dried cod from Dungarvan, and which was bound from Waterford to Bilboa. He could not speak a word of any language but Irish, and had never been at sea before: the fishermen had brought him in, fed him well, and endeavored to repay themselves by showing him as a curiosity. "O'Leary's mode of telling this story was quite admirable. I never heard any anecdote (and I believe this one to be true) related with such genuine drollery, which was enhanced by his not changing a muscle himself, while every one of his hearers was in a paroxysm of laughter. "Another anecdote he used to tell with incomparable dramatic humor. By the bye, all his stories were somehow national; and this gives me occasion to remark, that I think Ireland is, at this moment, as little known in many parts of the Continent as it seems to have been then. I have myself heard it more than once spoken of as an English town. At Nancy, where Father O'Leary was travelling, his native country happened to be mentioned when one of the party, a quiet French farmer of Burgundy, asked, in an unassuming tone, 'If Ireland stood encore?' 'Encore,' said an astonished John Bull, a courier coming from Germany—'encore! to be sure she does; we have her yet, I assure you, monsieur.' 'Though neither very safe, nor very sound,' interposed an officer of the Irish Brigade, who happened to be present, looking very significantly at O'Leary, and not very complacently at the courier. 'And pray, monsieur,' rejoined John Bull to the Frenchman, 'why encore?' 'Pardon, monsieur,' replied the Frenchman, 'I heard it had been worn out (fatigue) long ago, by the great number of people that were living in it.' The fact is, the Frenchman had been told, and really understood, that Ireland was a large house, where the English were wont to send their idle vagabonds, and from whence they were drawn out again, as they were wanted, to fill the ranks of the army." A DOG'S RELIGION.One day, while walking in the suburbs of the city of Cork, he met the Rev. Mr. Flack, a Protestant clergyman, and Mr. Solomons, a Jew—both friends of his Mr. Flack's dog was running on before them. "Good morrow, friends," said O'Leary. "Well, what interesting topic engages your attention now?" "To be candid with you," replied the clergyman, "we were just conjecturing what religion this dog of mine would be likely to embrace, if it were possible for him to choose." "Strange subject, indeed," said O'Leary; "but were I to offer an opinion, I would venture to say he would become a Protestant!" "How," asked the Protestant clergyman and the Jew. "Why," replied O'Leary, "he would not be a Jew, for, you know, he would retain his passion for pork: he would not become a Catholic, for I am quite certain he would eat meat on a Friday. What religion, then, could he become, but a Protestant!" HOWARD, THE PHILANTHROPIST, AND MR. HENRY SHEARS."About this time it was," says his biographer, "that the philanthropist Howard, led by his benevolent enthusiasm to fathom dungeons, vindicate the wrongs, and alleviate the sufferings of the lonely and forgotten victim of vice and crime, arrived at Cork. A society had for some years existed in that city 'for the relief and discharge of persons confined for small debts,' of which O'Leary was an active and conspicuous member. This association had its origin in the humane mind of Henry Shears, Esq., the father of two distinguished victims to the political distractions of their country in 1798: and a literary production of that gentleman, which in its style and matter emulated the elegance and morality of Addison, strengthened and matured the benevolent institution. During Mr. Howard's stay in Cork, he was introduced to O'Leary by their common friend, Archdeacon Austen. Two such minds required but an opportunity to admire and venerate each other; and frequently, in after times, Howard boasted of sharing the friendship and esteem of the friar." HIS HABITS OF STUDY—HIS INFLUENCE."In the midst of the cares and distractions," says his biographer, "to which the active duties of the ministry subjected O'Leary, he still indulged his usual habits of study. No unexpected visitor ever found him unoccupied: his reading was extensive, profound, and incessant; and his hours of silence and retreat as many as he could abstract from the necessary and inevitable claim of his flock, or could deny to the kind importunity of his numerous and respectable acquaintance. Few men ever possessed the power of enjoying an extensive influence over public opinion more than O'Leary. Every thing he said or wrote was by every one admired. The wise and learned were delighted with the original and correct views which he took of every subject that employed his mind; whilst the amiable simplicity of his manners, the endearing kindness of his disposition, and the worth, purity, and uprightness of his life and conduct, were claims to regard that could neither be denied nor unattended to. It is, therefore, to be lamented that such transcendent faculties should have remained suspended or inactive, or been, for a moment, diverted in their application from their appropriate object or natural sphere—the moral correction of the age." EDMOND BURKE.On Father O'Leary's arrival in London he was anxiously sought after by his countrymen residing in that capital, who all felt gratified by every opportunity which offered itself, of paying respect to one who had done so much honor to religion and their country. Mr. Edmond Burke was very marked in the regard which he manifested to O'Leary.—It was, in fact, impossible, after an evening spent in his society, not to seek at every future opportunity a renewal of the delight which his wit, pleasantly, and wisdom afforded. HIS CHARITY.Like Dean Swift, Father O'Leary relieved, every Monday morning, a number of reduced roomkeepers and working men. The average of his weekly charity amounted to two, sometimes three pounds—though he had no income except that derived from the contributions of those who frequented the poor Capuchin little chapel. After the publication of his "Essay on Toleration," Father O'Leary was elected a member of the "Monks of St. Patrick," which took its rise under the auspices of that great lawyer, Lord Avonmore, then Mr. Yelverton. As a return for the honor thus conferred on him, he expressed his gratitude in the dedication of his various productions, which he collected together, and published in 1781. At one of the meetings of the English Catholic Board, whilst O'Leary was addressing the chairman, the late Lord Petre, it was suggested by the noble president that the speaker was entering on topics not calculated to promote the unanimity of the assembly. O'Leary, however, persevered: on which Lord Petre interrupted him, adding, "Mr. O'Leary, I regret much to see that you are out of order." The reply was equally quick and characteristic—"I thank you for your anxiety, my lord; but I assure you I never was in letter health in my life." The archness of manner with which these words were uttered was triumphant, and every unpleasant feeling was lost in the mirth which was necessarily excited. O'LEARY VERSUS CURRAN.In the "Reminiscences" of the celebrated singer and composer, Michael Kelly, the following interesting anecdotes are given: "I had the pleasure to be introduced to my worthy countryman, the Rev. Father O'Leary, the well-known Roman Catholic priest; he was a man of infinite wit, of instructing and amusing conversation. I felt highly honored by the notice of this pillar of the Roman Church; our tastes were congenial, for his reverence was mighty fond of whisky-punch, and so was I; and many a jug of Saint Patrick's eye-water, night after night, did his Reverence and myself enjoy, chatting over the exhilarating and national beverage. He sometimes favored me with his company at dinner; when he did, I always had a corned shoulder of mutton for him, for he, like some others of his countrymen who shall be nameless, was marvellously fond of that dish. "One day the facetious John Philpot Curran, who was very partial to the said corned mutton, did me the honor to meet him. To enjoy the society of such men was an intellectual treat. They were great friends, and seemed to have a mutual respect for each other's talents and, as it may be easily imagined, O'Leary versus Curran was no bad match. "One day, after dinner, Curran said to him, 'Reverend father, I wish you were Saint Peter.' "'And why, Counsellor, would you wish that I were Saint Peter?' asked O'Leary. "'Because, reverend father, in that case,' said Curran, 'you would have the keys of heaven, and you could let me in.' "'By my honor and conscience, Counsellor,' replied the divine, 'it would be better for you if I had the keys of the other place, for then I could let you out' Curran enjoyed the joke, which, he admitted, had a good deal of justice in it." HIS TRIUMPH OVER DR. JOHNSON."O'Leary told us of a whimsical triumph which he once enjoyed over the celebrated Dr. Johnson. O'Leary was very anxious to be introduced to that learned man, and Mr. Arthur Murphy took him one morning to the doctor's lodgings. On his entering the room, the doctor viewed him from top to toe, without taking any notice of him; and, at length, darting one of his sourest looks at him, he spoke to him in the Hebrew language, to which O'Leary made no reply. 'Why do you not answer me, sir?' 'Faith, sir,' said O'Leary, 'because I don't understand the language in which you are addressing me.' Upon this, the doctor, with a contemptuous sneer, said to Murphy, 'Why, sir, this is a pretty fellow you have brought hither. Sir, he does not comprehend the primitive language.' O'Leary immediately bowed very low, and complimented the doctor in a long speech in Irish, to which the doctor, not understanding a word, made no reply, but looked at Murphy. O'Leary, seeing the doctor was puzzled at hearing a language of which he was ignorant, said to Murphy, pointing to the doctor, 'This is a pretty fellow to whom you have brought me. Sir, he does not understand the language of the sister kingdom.' The reverend padre then made another low bow, and quitted the room." A NOLLE PROSEQUI.At the time that Barry Yelverton was Attorney-General, himself and O'Leary, while enjoying the beauties of Killarney, had the rare fortune to witness a staghunt. The hunted animal ran towards the spot where the Attorney-General and O'Leary stood. "Ah!" said Father Arthur, with genuine wit, "how naturally instinct leads him to come to you, that you may deliver him by a nolle prosequi!" THE PRINCE OF WALES.George the Fourth, when Prince of Wales, frequently had as guests at his table Sheridan, Grattan, Curran, Flood, and Father O'Leary. Croly, in his "Life of George the Fourth," says—"An occasional guest, and a sufficiently singular one, was an Irish Franciscan, Arthur O'Leary, a man of strong faculties and considerable knowledge. His first celebrity was as a pamphleteer, in a long battle with Woodward, the able Bishop of Cloyne, in Ireland.—O'Leary abounded in Irish anecdote, and was a master of pleasant humor. "Sheridan said that he considered claret the true parliamentary wine for the peerage, for it might make a man sleepy or sick, but it never warmed his heart, or stirred up his brains. Port, generous port, was for the Commons—it was for the business of life—it quickened the circulation and fancy together. For his part, he never felt that he spoke as he liked, until after a couple of bottles. O'Leary observed, that this was like a porter; he never could go steady without a load on his head." THE CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE."The disturbances," says his biographer, "by which Ireland was convulsed in 1798 pained O'Leary's mind. The efforts made by the tools of a base faction, to give the tinge of religious fanaticism to the political distractions of that country, excited his indignation; and, as his name had been wantonly and insultingly introduced by Sir Richard Musgrave, in his libellous compilation on the Irish Rebellions, he entertained the notion of publishing a refutation of the calumnies which had been so industriously circulated against the Catholics, not only in that scandalous work, but likewise in various other historical essays at that time. For this purpose O'Leary had prepared some very valuable manuscript collections: he looked back to the history of the earlier periods of the English rule in Ireland; and from his friends in various parts of that kingdom he procured authentic details of the insurrectionary disturbances: impartiality was his object; and he left no means untried to collect the most voluminous and exact account of every circumstance connected with, or immediately arising out of, the rebellion, the history of which he ultimately declared it his design to publish. "The progress of disease, and the rapidly increasing infirmities of old age, hindered the fulfilment of O'Leary's wishes: he was unable to proceed into any part of the task of composition, but he was relieved from anxiety by the fortunate circumstance of his intimacy with Francis Plowden Esq., whose historical review of Ireland, and whose subsequent publication in defence of that country, have raised him to a rank amongst historians, honorably and deservedly conspicuous. When O'Leary learned that his friend was engaged, at the desire of Mr. Pitt, in writing the 'Historical Review,' he sent him his invaluable collections, as affording the best and most authentic materials for the recent history of Ireland; and the manner in which the documents, thus furnished, were applied to the purposes of truth, must have given gratification to O'Leary's mind, had he lived long enough to witness this successful vindication of his country and religion. His descent to the grave was too rapid to afford him that pleasure; and it was not till it had closed over his remains, that the world was gratified with the best and most authentic work ever published on the political history of Ireland. "We approach now to the last scene of O'Leary's busy life; and it is one which, like too many others, preaches to mankind the necessity of being always prepared for the unrevealed hour that shall terminate mortal existence. "Towards the end of the year 1801, ill health shed a gloom over his mind, to which the consciousness of approaching dissolution gave facilities and permanency. His contests with bad men had been frequent; and the frailties and follies of the world, and the instability of human friendship, which he had often experienced, haunted his mind at this time to a degree that was painful for those who loved and revered him, to witness. His medical friends tried the resources of their professional skill for the alleviation of his disease in vain; and as a last prescription, they recommended to him a short residence in the south of France, as calculated, if any thing could, to revive his spirits and restore his health. Agreeably to this advice, in company with Mr. M'Grath, a medical friend, to whose kindness he was much indebted, he proceeded to France; but his hopes of relief were disappointed, and he shortly determined on returning to London. The state in which he found society in France—so different from what it had been, when he first visited 'the lovely, fertile south,' shocked him; and he uttered his opinion of the change which he witnessed, by saying, emphatically, 'that there was not now a gentleman in all France.' "His arrival in London was on the 7th of January, 1802. It was his intention to have landed at Dover; but tempestuous weather compelled the vessel in which he was to land at Ramsgate. The effects of this voyage tended to hasten his death, which took place the morning after his arrival in London, in the 73rd year of his age." |
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