excerpt from 'Memoirs of Myself, begun many Years since, but never, I fear, to be completed' pp. 42–44 (434 words)

excerpt from 'Memoirs of Myself, begun many Years since, but never, I fear, to be completed' pp. 42–44 (434 words)

part of

Memoirs of Myself, begun many Years since, but never, I fear, to be completed

original language

urn:iso:std:iso:639:ed-3:eng

in pages

42–44

type

text excerpt

encoded value

 

There was a curious society or club established in Dublin, which had existed I believe some time, but to which the growing political excitement of the day lent a new and humorous interest. A mere sketch of the plan and objects of the club (to which most of the gay fellows of the middle and liberal class of society belonged) will show what a fertile source it afforded not only of fun and festivity, but of political allusion and satire. The island of Dalkey, about seven or eight miles from Dublin, was the scene of their summer réunions, and here they had founded a kingdom, of which the monarchy was elective; and at the time I am speaking of, Stephen Armitage, a very respectable pawnbroker of Dublin, and a most charming singer, was the reigning king of the island. Every summer the anniversary of his coronation was celebrated, and a gayer and more amusing scene (for I was once the happy witness of it) could not be well imagined.  About noon on Sunday, the day of the celebration, the royal procession set out from Dublin by water; the barge of his majesty, King Stephen, being most tastefully decorated, and the crowd of boats that attended him all vying with each other in gaiety of ornament and company. There was even cannon planted at one or two stations along the shore, to fire salutes in honour of his majesty as he passed. […]

The ceremonies performed in honour of the day by the dignitaries of the kingdom, were, of course, a parody on the forms observed upon real state occasions; and the sermon and service, as enacted in an old ruined church, by the archbishop (a very comical fellow, whose name I forget) and his clergy, certainly carried the spirit of parody indecorously far. An old ludicrous song, to the tune of “Nancy Dawson,” was given out in the manner of a psalm, and then sung in chorus by the congregation; as thus, —

 

“And then he up the chimney went,
The chimney went — the chimney went;
And then he up the chimney went,
And stole away the bacon.”

 

 

There were occasionally peerages and knighthoods bestowed by his majesty on such “good fellows” as were deserving of them; on this very day which I am describing, Incledon the singer, who was with a party on the island, was knighted under the title of Sir Charles Melody. My poetical friend, Mrs. Battier, who held the high office of poetess laureate to the monarch of Dalkey, had, on her appointment to that station, been created Countess of Laurel.

 

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excerpt from 'Memoirs of Myself, begun many Years since, but never, I fear, to be completed' pp. 42–44 (434 words)

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