The Hall of Four Courts. almost justifies the ecstasies of the old chron icler who writes, — "No verbal description can convey an adequate idea of its beauty! Ч is simple! 't is elegant! 't is grand! In one sense, however, the change of site was for the worse. In quitting the Cathe dral close, the lawyers exchanged the " odor of sanctity " for an effluvium of a more pro nounced and less attractive kind. The stench from the river, at all times and in all places, has become a byword through the three kingdoms. It rises to its greatest height, perhaps, opposite the Four Courts, and the unsavory flood has at various times invaded the basement. Indeed, a few years ago there appeared in a Dublin paper a letter from an exasperated lawyer suggesting the suspension of the judges' salaries and sittings until the matter had received attention. The enthusiasm which marks the descrip tion of the building just quoted may certainly be pardoned in any attempt to sketch the annals of the place. Within the little circle are crowded memo ries of many of the greatest and noblest of Irishmen. Well might any new-fledged, reverend barrister (save only that newfledged barristers are not prone to reverence) take his shoes from off his feet, remembering that the place was holy ground. Here Curran, like any other briefless and aspiring junior, walked the Courts the while he — "... hoped for declarations and anon for special pleas; Thought on all the sad ejectments of that injured ancient Doe, Felt his indignation swelling at the deeds of lawless Roe."
Here, in after years, he stood, day after day, the bright particular star of a constella tion greater than any Ireland has seen. With him was Charles Kendal Bushe, of whom Grattan said that he spoke with the lips of an angel, —who rivalled Curran in wit and Plunket in eloquence, and who left the
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Hall to hide, as an Irish Chief-Justice, talents which should have been famed throughout Europe. In this little world, but not of it, Plunket walked alone, deep in thought, his ascetic face seeming to defy intimacy and to rebuke intrusion. Yet those who knew him tell how the severe aspect would vanish and the face light up with kindliness and enthusiasm when any challenge called forth his genius, wit, or patriotism. Scarcely had the Hall lost the echo of his footsteps ere Sheil had come to occupy, if not to fill, his place, and to practise that power of stinging epigram and sarcasm which drove his Catholic audiences to a frenzy of delight. With another coterie, Daniel O'Connell, Shell's colleague on the Catholic question — "Magnae spes altera Romee" — with his humor, ridicule, and round abuse made the place ring with laughter. There were many lesser wits, unfortunate in the day of their uprising. There was John Toler, afterwards Lord Norbury, who was commonly said to have shot his way to the bench in the absence of any more satisfactory reason for his advance ment. A noted duellist, and as ready with his tongue as his pistol! He it was who in reply to counsel's entreaty that he would for once have the courage to non-suit, made the pertinent rejoinder that he had " courage both to shoot and to non-shoot," — and counsel did not press the point. The Court of Common Pleas, under his guidance, was one of the sights of town. Aloft sat the Judge, short, pursy, scant of breath and dignity; while beneath him, as opposing counsel, Goold, Grady, or O'Connell bandied recrimination and abuse across the Court. Openly cheered by their supporters in the gallery, covertly excited by the Judge (who loved a fight as much as he hated law), the combat would grow hotter and hotter, until "Lord Norbury, the witnesses, the counsel, the parties, and the audience were involved in one universal riot." Small wonder that pious clergy, forbidden the theatre, flocked
