The Memoirs of Barry Lyndon, Esq. | Page 4

been most hospitably received by the Barry, and finding him just on the point of carrying
an inroad into the O'Mahonys' land, offered the aid of himself and his lances, and
behaved himself so well, as it appeared, that the O'Mahonys were entirely overcome, all
the Barrys' property restored, and with it, says the old chronicle, twice as much of the

O'Mahonys' goods and cattle.
It was the setting in of the winter season, and the young soldier was pressed by the Barry
not to quit his house of Barryogue, and remained there during several months, his men
being quartered with Barry's own gallowglasses, man by man in the cottages round about.
They conducted themselves, as is their wont, with the most intolerable insolence towards
the Irish; so much so, that fights and murders continually ensued, and the people vowed
to destroy them.
The Barry's son (from whom I descend) was as hostile to the English as any other man on
his domain; and, as they would not go when bidden, he and his friends consulted together
and determined on destroying these English to a man.
But they had let a woman into their plot, and this was the Barry's daughter. She was in
love with the English Lyndon, and broke the whole secret to him; and the dastardly
English prevented the just massacre of themselves by falling on the Irish, and destroying
Phaudrig Barry, my ancestor, and many hundreds of his men. The cross at Barrycross
near Carrignadihioul is the spot where the odious butchery took place.
Lyndon married the daughter of Roderick Barry, and claimed the estate which he left:
and though the descendants of Phaudrig were alive, as indeed they are in my
person,[Footnote: As we have never been able to find proofs of the marriage of my
ancestor Phaudrig with his wife, I make no doubt that Lyndon destroyed the contract, and
murdered the priest and witnesses of the marriage.--B. L.] on appealing to the English
courts, the estate was awarded to the Englishman, as has ever been the case where
English and Irish were concerned.
Thus, had it not been for the weakness of a woman, I should have been born to the
possession of those very estates which afterwards came to me by merit, as you shall hear.
But to proceed with my family, history.
My father was well known to the best circles in this kingdom, as in that of Ireland, under
the name of Roaring Harry Barry. He was bred like many other young sons of genteel
families to the profession of the law, being articled to a celebrated attorney of Sackville
Street in the city of Dublin; and, from his great genius and aptitude for learning, there is
no doubt he would have made an eminent figure in his profession, had not his social
qualities, love of field-sports, and extraordinary graces of manner, marked him out for a
higher sphere. While he was attorney's clerk he kept seven race-horses, and hunted
regularly both with the Kildare and Wicklow hunts; and rode on his grey horse Endymion
that famous match against Captain Punter, which is still remembered by lovers of the
sport, and of which I caused a splendid picture to be made and hung over my dining-hall
mantelpiece at Castle Lyndon. A year afterwards he had the honour of riding that very
horse Endymion before his late Majesty King George II. at New-market, and won the
plate there and the attention of the august sovereign.
Although he was only the second son of our family, my dear father came naturally into
the estate (now miserably reduced to L400 a year); for my grandfather's eldest son

Cornelius Barry (called the Chevalier Borgne, from a wound which he received in
Germany) remained constant to the old religion in which our family was educated, and
not only served abroad with credit, but against His Most Sacred Majesty George II. in the
unhappy Scotch disturbances in '45. We shall hear more of the Chevalier hereafter.
For the conversion of my father I have to thank my dear mother, Miss Bell Brady,
daughter of Ulysses Brady of Castle Brady, county Kerry, Esquire and J.P. She was the
most beautiful woman of her day in Dublin, and universally called the Dasher there.
Seeing her at the assembly, my father became passionately attached to her; but her soul
was above marrying a Papist or an attorney's clerk; and so, for the love of her, the good
old laws being then in force, my dear father slipped into my uncle Cornelius's shoes and
took the family estate. Besides the force of my mother's bright eyes, several persons, and
of the genteelest society too, contributed to this happy change; and I have often heard my
mother laughingly tell the story of my