SKETCHES OF THE IRISH BAR.-NO. VII.

Serjeant Lefroy.

Read your Bible, Sir, and mind your purse.”—DON JUAN.

THERE is something apparently irreconcileable between the ambition and avidity which are almost inseparable from the propensities of a successful lawyer, and any very genuine enthusiasm in religion. The intense worldliness of his profession must produce upon his character and faculties equally tangible results; and if it has the effect of communicating a minute astuteness to the one, it is not very likely to impart a spirit of lofty abstraction to the other. I cannot readily conceive any thing more sublunary than the bar. Its occupations allow no respite to the mind, and refuse it all leave to indulge in the aspirations which a high tendency to religion not only generates, but requires. They will not even permit any native disposition to enthusiasm to branch aloft, but fetter it to the earth, and constrain it to grow down. How can the mind of a lawyer, eddying as it is with such fluctuating interests, receive upon its shifting and troubled surface, those noble images which can never be reflected except in the sequestered calm of deep and unruffled thought? He whose spirit carries on a continued commerce with the skies, is not only ill adapted to the ordinary business of society, but is scarcely conscious of it. with difficulty perceive what is going on at such a distance below him; and if he should ever divert his eyes from the contemplation of the bright and eternal objects upon which they are habitually fixed, it is but to compassionate those whom he beholds engaged in the pursuit of the idle and fantastic fires that mislead us in our passage through "this valley of tears." To such a man, the ordinary ends of human desire must appear to be utterly preposterous and inane. The reputation which Romilly has left behind, must sound as idle in his ears as the wind that shakes the thistle upon his grave. An ardent religionist must shrink from those offices which a lawyer would designate as the duties, and which are among the necessary incidents of his profession. To play for a little of that worthless dross, which is but a modification of the same material upon which he must at last lie low, all the multiform variety of personation which it is the business of a lawyer to assume to barter his anger and his tears-to put in mirth or sorrow, as it suits the purpose of every man who can purchase the mercenary joke or the stipendiary lamentation :-these appear to be offices for which an enthusiastic Christian is not eminently qualified. Still less would he be disposed to misquote and to misreciteto warp the facts, and to throw dust into the eyes of justice-to enter into an artificial sympathy with baseness to make prostitutes of his faculties, and surrender them in such an uncompromising subserviency to the passions of his client, as to make them the indiscriminate utensils of depravity. But how fallacious is all speculation when unillustrated by example, and how rapidly these misty conjectures disappear, before the warm and conspicuous piety of the learned gentleman whose name is prefixed to this number of the "Sketches of the Irish bar." This eminent practitioner, who has rivals in capacity, but is without a competitor in religion, refutes all this injurious surmise; and in answer to mere inference and theory, the sainted fra

ternity amongst whom he plays so remarkable a part, and who with emulative admiration behold him uniting in his person the good things of the Old Testament, with the less earthly benedictions of the New, may triumphantly appeal to the virtues and to the opulence of Mr. Serjeant Lefroy.

The person who has accomplished this exemplary reconciliation between characters so opposite in appearance as a devoted follower of the gospel and a wily disputant at the bar, stands in great prominence in the Four Courts, but is still more noted among "the Saints" in Dublin, and I think may be accounted their leader. These are an influential and rapidly increasing body, which is not wholly separated from the church, but is appended to it by a very loose and slender tie. They may be designated as the Jansenists of the establishment; for in their doctrines of grace and of election they border very closely upon the professors of the Port-Royal. For men who hold in such indifference the pleasures of the world, they are singularly surrounded with its fugacious enjoyments. Encompassed with innocuous luxuries and innocent voluptuousness, they felicitously contrast their external wealth with that mortification of the spirit of which they make so lavish a profession, and of which none but an irreclaimable sceptic could entertain a doubt. At the bar they are to be found in considerable strength, and are distinguished among their brethren for their zeal in the advancement of the interests of religion and their own. They are, in general, sedulous and well-informed-competent to the discharge of ordinary business, and free of all ambition of display-a little uncandid in their practice, and careless of the means by which success is to be attained— pursuivants of authority and followers of the great-gentlemanlike in their demeanour, but not without that touch of arrogance towards their inferiors, which is an almost uniform attendant upon an over-anxious deference to power-strong adherents to abstract principles of propriety, and vehement inculcators of the eternal rules of right, but at the same time not prodigally prone to any Samaritan sensibilities-amiable in their homes, and somewhat selfish out of them-fluent reciters of the scriptures-conspicuously decent in their manners, and entirely regardless of the apple-wenches in the Hall.

The great prototype of this meritorious fraternity is Mr. Serjeant Lefroy. It would do good to the heart of the learned member for Galway to visit his stables on a Sunday. The generous animals who inhabit these exemplary tenements, participate in his relaxations, and fulfil with scriptural exactness the sacred injunction of repose. Smooth as their benevolent master, they stand in their stalls amidst all the luxury of grain, and, from their sobriety and sleekness, might readily be recognized as the steeds of a prosperous and pious man. It is one of the Serjeant's favourite canons, that the lower orders of the animal creation should join in the celebration of the seventh day, and contribute the offering of their involuntary homage. Loosened himself from the rich wain of his profession, he extends a similar indulgence to the gentle quadrupeds, who are relieved on that day from the easy obligation of drawing one of the handsomest equipages in Dublin, to which, in all probability, the chariots of the primitive Christians did not bear a very exact resemblance. If you should chance on Sunday to walk near the Asylum (a chapel in Leeson-street, which, from the number of sanctimo

nious lawyers who inhabit it, is called "Swaddling-bar,") you will see the learned Serjeant proceeding to this favoured domicile of worship, near which he resides without any verification of the proverb, with a huge Bible bound in red morocco under his arm. It is a truly edifying spectacle. A halo of piety is diffused about him. His cheeks, so far from being worn out by the vigils of his profession, or suffused with the evaporations of the midnight lamp, are bright, shining, and vermilioned. There is a gloss of sanctity upon them, which is happily contrasted with the care-coloured visages of the profane. A serious contentedness is observable in his aspect, which indicates a mind on the best footing with heaven and with itself. There is an evangelical neatness in his attire. His neckcloth is closely tied, and knotted with a simple precision. His suit of sables, in the formality of its outline, bears attestation to the stitches of some inspired tailor who alternately cuts out a religion and a coat-his hose are of grey silk-his shoes are burnished with a mysterious polish, black as the lustre of his favourite Tertullian. As he passes to the house of worship, he attracts the pious notice of the devouter fair who flock to the windows to behold him, but, heedless of their perilous admiration, he advances without any indulgence of human vanity and joins the convocation of the elect. There his devotion exhales itself in enraptured evaporations, which nothing but the recognition of some eminent solicitor in the adjoining pew can interrupt. The service being over, he proceeds to fill up the residue of the day with acts of religious merit, and, as I have heard, with deeds of genuine humanity and worth. With him, I really believe that upon a day which he sets apart from worldly occupation, with perhaps too much Puritan exactness, "works of mercy are a part of rest." While I venture to indulge in a little ridicule of his sabbatarian precision, which is not wholly free from that sort of pedantry which is observable in religion as well as in learning, I should regret to withhold from him the encomium which he really deserves. It has been whispered, it is true, that his compassion is, in a great degree, instigated by his theological predilections, and that it has as much of sectarianism as of philanthropy. But humanity, however modified, is still humanity. If, in leaving the chamber of suffering and of sorrow, he marks with a bank-note the leaf of the Bible which he has been reading at the bed-side of some poorer saint, let there be given to his benevolence, restricted as it may be by his peculiar propensities in belief, a cordial praise. The sphere of charity must needs be limited; and of his own money, it is a clear truism to say, he is entitled to dispose as he thinks proper. With respect to the public money, the case is different, and upon the distribution of a fund of which he and certain other gentlemen of his profession are the trustees, (so at least they have made themselves,) there appears less right to exercise a summary discretion. I allude to the Kildare-street Association, of which he is one of the principal members.

The street from which this association has derived its name has brought the extremes in morals into a close conjunction. The Pharisees of Dublin have posted themselves in a most Sadducean vicinage, for their meetings are held beside the most fashionable gaming-club in Ireland. Loud indeed and long are the oratorical ejaculations which issue from the assemblies held under the peculiar auspices of the illu

minated associates of the long robe. Here they hold out an useful example of prudence as well as of zeal, and indulge their generous propensities at little cost. They receive, by parliamentary grant, an annual sum of six thousand pounds for the education of the poor; and by a prodigious stretch of individual beneficence a hundred guineas are added through a private subscription among the elect. In the allocation of this fund they have established rules which are entirely at variance with the ends for which the grant has been made by parliament. They require that the Bible should be read in every school to which assistance is given. With this condition the Roman Catholic clergy (and the chief amongst the Protestant hierarchy concur in their opposition) have refused to comply. The indiscriminate perusal of the scriptures, unaccompanied by any comment illustrative of the peculiar sense in which they are explained by the Roman Catholic church, seems to be inconsistent with the principles in which that church is founded. The divines of Kildare-street have, however, undertaken the difficult task of demonstrating to this obstinate and refractory priesthood, that they understand the tenets and spirit of their religion much better than any doctor at Maynooth. A consequent acrimony has arisen between the parties, and the result has been that the few channels of education which exist in the country are denied all supply from a source which has been thus arbitrarily shut up. It is lamentable, that, in the enforcement of these fanatical enactments, so much petty vindictiveness and theological acerbity should be displayed. The assemblies held at Kildare-street, with the ostensible view of advancing the progress of intelligence among the lower classes, exhibit many of the qualities of sectarian virulence in their most ludicrous shape. A few individuals who presume to dissent from the august authorities who preside at these meetings, occasionally venture to enter their public protest both against the right and the propriety of imposing a virtually impracticable condition upon the allocation of the parliamentary fund. Lord Cloncurry implores them, with an honest frankness, to abandon their proselytising speculation. O'Connel too, who "like a French falcon flies at every thing he sees," comes panting from the Four Courts, and gives them a speech straight. The effects produced upon the auditory, which is compounded of very different materials from the meetings which the counsellor is in the habit of addressing with so much success, are not a little singular. Of the ingredients of this assembly it may not be amiss to say a few words. Aware of his purpose, the Saints employ themselves for some days before in congregating all those who hold his politics and his creed in their most special abhorrence. They accordingly collect a very motley convocation. In the back-ground are posted a strong phalanx of the ragged and ferocious votaries of Mr. Cooper. These persons belong to the lower classes of Protestants, of whose religion it would not be easy to give any more definite description, than that they regard the Plunket-street orator as on a very close footing with the Divinity, and entertain shrewd doubts whether he be not the prophet Enoch himself. Adjoining to this detachment, which is posted as a kind of corps de réserve, whose aid is to be resorted to upon a case of special emergency, the Evangelicals of York-street are drawn up. Next come a chosen band of Quakers and Quakeresses; and lastly are arrayed The Saints, more properly so called, with the learned Serjeant and divers

oily-tongued barristers at their head. The latter are judiciously dispersed among the pretty enthusiasts who occupy the front benches, and whisper a compliment in the ear of some soft-eyed votary, who bears the seal of grace upon her smooth and ivory brow. It may not be inappropriate to observe, that among the softer sex the Saints have made very considerable way. The cold worship of the establishment is readily abandoned for the more impassioned adoration which corrects the tameness and frigidity of the constituted creed. The latter is, indeed, a kind of Catholicism cut down; it is popery without enthusiasm; and to remedy its want of stimulus, an exciting system has been devised, the practices and tenets of which are endowed with a peculiar pungency. The Kildare-street meetings are attended by some of the prettiest women in Dublin; and I should say, in justice to these tender devotees, that they appear there with a peculiar interest. There is a studied modesty in their attire that only excites the imaginations which it purposes to repress.

In this scene, thus strangely compounded, it is pleasant to see the popish agitator engaged in a wrestle with the passions and antipathies of his hearers. The moment he rises, an obscure murmur, or rather growl, is heard in the more distant parts of the room. This discourteous sound proceeds from the Cooperites, who find it difficult to restrain themselves from any stronger expression of abhorrence towards this poisoned scion of St. Ömer's. The politer portion of the audience interfere, and the learned Serjeant entreats that he may be heard. O'Connel proceeds, and professes as strong and unaffected a veneration for the Holy Writings as any of them can entertain; but at the same time begs leave to insinuate, that the Bible is not only the repository of divine truths, but the record of human depravity, and that, as a narrative, it comprehends examples of atrocity, with the detail of which it is, perhaps, injudicious that youth and innocence should become familiar. Are crimes which rebel against nature, the fit theme of domestic contemplation? and are not facts set forth in the Old Testament, from the very knowledge of which every father should desire to secure his child? If he were desperate enough to open the Holy Writings in that very assembly, and to read aloud the examples of guilt which they commemorate, the face of every woman would turn to scarlet, and the hand of every man would be lifted up in wrath and are the pages which reveal the darkest depths of depravity fitted for the speculations of boyhood and the virgin's meditations? Will not the question be asked, What does all this mean? and is it right that such a question should be put, to which such an answer may be given? The field of conjecture ought not to be opened to those whose innocence and whose ignorance are so closely allied. Sacred as the tree of knowledge may appear, and although it grow beside that of life, its fruits are full of bitterness and death. Mr. O'Connel then insists that the Scriptures ought not to be forced into circulation, and that a bounty should not be put upon their dispersion among the shoeless, hoseless, shirtless, and houseless peasantry of Ireland. Give them work and food instead of theology. Are they capable of comprehending the dark and mysterious intimations of St. Paul, or St. John's Revelation? Would not the Apocalypse bother the learned Serjeant himself? and have not his poor countrymen enough to endure, and are they not sufficiently