Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 002.djvu/710

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Some Account of the Life and Writings of Ensign Odoherty.
[March
Thee soon as the Greenlander fisherman sees,
He plans thy destruction, odd rot him;
And often, before thou hast time to cry pease,
He has whipped his harpoon in thy bottom.

Here unfortunately a hiatus occurs, which, I am sure, will be regretted by every lover of what is sublime in conception, grand in description, and beautiful in imagination. Odoherty is not the only author of high genius whose vivacity exceeded his perseverance. We may say of him what Voltaire said of Lord Bacon: "Ce grand homme a commencé beaucoup de choses que personne ne peut jamais achever."

On his arrival at Boston, he received orders to proceed to Philadelphia, the station allotted for his residence by the American government. In this great city, the manly graces of his person, and the seductive elegance of his manners, gained him the notice and attention of all ranks. But, notwithstanding the kindness and hospitality which he experienced from his American friends, his pecuniary circumstances were by no means in the most flourishing condition. He found, to his astonishment, that American merchants, however kind and liberal in other respects, had a strange prejudice against discounting Irish bills; nor could any offers, however liberal, of an extraordinary per centage, reconcile their minds to the imaginary risk of the transaction. Under these circumstances, Mr Odoherty was obliged to confine his expenses to his pay, a small part of which was advanced to him, with much liberality, by the British agent for prisoners of war in that city, to whose kindness he was, on several occasions, much indebted. It was in Philadelphia that Ensign Odoherty had the misfortune to form a connexion with a lady of the name of M'Whirter, who kept a well-known tavern and smoking-shop. Her husband had taken an active part in the rebellion of 1798 in Ireland, of which country he was a native, and had found it prudent to escape the consequences of his conduct by a flight to America. He accordingly repaired to Philadelphia, where he opened the "Goat in Armour" tavern and hotel, and soon after married a female emigrée from the Emerald Isle, an act which, I believe, he had only once occasion to repent. He died in a few years, and the "goat in armour" lost none of its reputation under the management of his widow. In this house did Mr Odoherty take up his residence on his arrival at Philadelphia; and it is almost needless to add, he soon made a complete conquest of the too susceptible heart of Mrs M'Whirter. In the present difficulty of his pecuniary affairs, this circumstance afforded him too many advantages to be neglected or overlooked. Disgusting as she was in her person, vulgar in her manners, weak in her understanding, and unsuitable in years, he determined on espousing her. He accordingly made his proposals in form, and Mrs M'Whirter was too much flattered with the idea of becoming an ensign's lady, not to swallow the bait with avidity. They were privately married, and continued to live together with tolerable harmony, until the peace of 1815 restored Mr Odoherty once more to liberty. He was now heartily sick of the faded charms and uncultivated rudeness of his new wife, and accordingly determined once more to pursue the current of his fortune in another hemisphere. He accordingly possessed himself of as much ready money as he could conveniently lay his hands upon, and secretly embarked on board a ship, then on the point of sailing for England. The astonishment, rage, and grief of his wife, at the discovery of his flight, may be more easily conceived than described. She has indeed embodied them all with the greatest fidelity, in an address to her husband, which, I have reason to believe, she composed immediately after his elopement. I shall only give the first verse, which possesses certainly much energy, if not elegance.

"Confusion seize your lowsy sowl, ye nasty dirty varment,
Ye goes your ways, and leaves me here without the least preferment;
When you've drunk my gin, and robbed my till, and stolen all my pelf, ye
Sail away, and think no more on your wife at Philadelphy."

I shall certainly not presume to offer the delicate and refined reader any further specimen of this coarse and vulgar, but surely pathetic and feeling, poem. Gray's "Bard" has been often and justly admired for the beautiful and unexpected abruptness of the opening stanza, the sudden vehemence of passion in which strange curses are imprecated on the head of the devoted monarch. It begins with the beautiful line,