Passage Illustrated: Tom O'Flaherty's Practical Joke on Alderman Burke

At this moment, Mr. Burke suddenly sprung from his chair, which was nearest the window, to look out; I accordingly followed his example, and beheld a rather ludicrous procession, if such it could be called, consisting of so few persons. The principal individual in the group was a florid, fat, happy-looking gentleman of about fifty, with a profusion of nearly white whiskers, which met at his chin, mounted upon a sleek charger, whose half-ambling, half-prancing pace, had evidently been acquired by long habit of going in procession; this august figure was habited in a scarlet coat and cocked hat, having aiguillettes, and all the other appanage of a general officer; he also wore tight buckskin breeches, and high jack-boots, like those of the Blues and Horse Guards; as he looked from side to side, with a self-satisfied contented air, he appeared quite insensible of the cortege which followed and preceded him; the latter, consisting of some score of half-ragged boys, yelling and shouting with all their might, and the former, being a kind of instalment in hand of the Dublin Militia Band, and who, in numbers and equipment, closely resembled the "army which accompanies the first appearance of Bombastes." The only difference, that these I speak of did not play "the Rogue's March," which might have perhaps appeared personal.

As this goodly procession advanced, Mr. Burke's eyes became riveted upon it; it was the first wonder he had yet beheld, and he devoured it. "May I ask, sir," said he, at length, "who that is?"

"Who that is!" said Tom, surveying him leisurely as he spoke; "why, surely, sir, you must be jesting, or you would not ask such a question; I trust, indeed, every one knows who he is. Eh, Harry," said he, looking at me for a confirmation of what he said, and to which, of course, I assented by a look.

"Well, but, my dear Mr. O'Flaherty, you forget how ignorant I am of every thing here —"

"Ah, true," said Tom, interrupting; "I forgot you never saw him before."

"And who is he, sir?"

"Why, that's the Duke of Wellington."

"Lord have mercy upon me, is it?" said Mr. Burke, as he upset the table, and all its breakfast equipage, and rushed through the coffee-room like one possessed. Before I could half recover from the fit of laughing this event threw me into, I heard him as he ran full speed down Dawson-street, waving his hat, and shouting out at the top of his lungs, "God bless your grace — Long life to your grace — Hurra for the hero of Waterloo; the great captain of the age," &c. &c.; which I grieve to say, for the ingratitude of the individual lauded, seemed not to afford him half the pleasure, and none of the amusement it did the mob, who re-echoed the shouts and cheering till he was hid within the precincts of the Mansion House. [Chapter XX, "A Day in Dublin," 157]

Commentary: Another Anecdote concerning Another Practical Joke

Here Phiz's subject is not Lorrequer in confusing circumstances but the butt of one of his friend Tom O'Flaherty's juvenile practical jokes, the gullible Alderman Burke. Prompted by the whimsical Tom, Burke mistakes an elderly, military-looking stranger riding down Dawson Street in the Irish capital for the Duke of Wellington. Whereas most of the events in the novel are simply "after Waterloo," here Lever supplies a highly specific chronological allusion to establish the scene's temporal setting: King George IV is about to arrive on a state tour as Harry and his servant Stubbs arrive via the Dublin Mail at the Hibernian in Dawson Street, which, on account of the impending royal visit, is packed with visitors from Galway. Accordingly, the author establishes the date as 12 August 1821, a year-and-a-half after the death of George III on 31 January 1820.

After a brief stroll to take in all the civic decorations, Harry returns for breakfast at the inn (which has no rooms available), and discovers his friend Tom O'Flaherty sitting with Mr. Burke, another out-of-towner, in the coffee room. Lever has described the alderman so specifically that Phiz can provide an accurate portrait: "a stout elderly gentleman, with red whiskers, and a high, bald forehead" (157), and wearing three waistcoats and tan-coloured top boots. Without doubt, then, Alderman Burke is the florid, excited figure running down Dawson Street (right). Phiz delights in his depiction of the ragged, hooting street-boys, and the exuberant, hero-worshipping Burke.

Related Materials

• Wellington at Waterloo
• Hablot Knight Browne, 1815-1882; A Brief Biography
• Cattermole and Phiz: The First illustrators of Barnaby Rudge: A Team Effort by "The Clock Works" (1841)
• Phiz: 'A Good Hand at a Horse'" — A Gallery and Brief Overview of Phiz's Illustrations of Horses for Defoe, Dickens, Lever, and Ainsworth (1836-64)

Bibliography

Buchanan-Brown, John. Phiz! Illustrator of Dickens' World. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1978.

Lester, Valerie Browne Lester. Phiz! The Man Who Drew Dickens. London: Chatto and Windus, 2004.

Lever, Charles. The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer. Illustrated by Phiz [Hablot Knight Browne]. Dublin: William Curry, Jun. London: W. S. Orr, 1839.

Steig, Michael. Chapter Two: "The Beginnings of 'Phiz': Pickwick, Nickleby, and the Emergence from Caricature." Dickens and Phiz. Bloomington: Indiana U. P., 1978. Pp. 24-85.

Steig, Michael. Chapter Seven: "Phiz the Illustrator: An Overview and a Summing Up." Dickens and Phiz. Bloomington: Indiana U. P., 1978. Pp. 299-316.

Stevenson, Lionel. Chapter V, "Renegade from Physic, 1839-1841." Dr. Quicksilver: The Life of Charles Lever. London: Chapman and Hall, 1939. Pp. 73-93.

_______. "The Domestic Scene." The English Novel: A Panorama. Cambridge, Mass.: Houghton Mifflin and Riverside, 1960.

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Created 25 April 2023