[Footnote 4:  The occupants of Henrietta street in 1784 included—­the primate (Lord Rokeby); the earl of Shannon; Hon. Dr. Maxwell, bishop of Meath; the bishop of Kilmore; the bishop of Clogher; Right Hon. Luke Gardiner, M.P.; Viscount Kingsborough; Right Hon. D. Bowes-Daly, M.P.; Sir E. Crofton, Bart.

Twenty years later, Dublin was nearly deserted by the aristocracy on account of the Union.  Up to that time nearly all the peers, except those really English, seem to have had residences in Dublin.  In 1844, Lords Longford, De Vesci and Monck were the only peers who had houses there.]

[Footnote 5:  The precincts, including a portion of the Liberties, were then entirely under the jurisdiction of the dean of St. Patrick’s.]

[Footnote 6:  It was a part of the grim and ghastly humor of this extraordinary man,

    “Who left what little wealth he had
    To found a home for fools or mad,
    And prove by one satiric touch
    No nation wanted it so much,”

to give nicknames, of which Cancerina was one, to the poor old wretches he met in his walks, to whom he gave charity.

Amongst Cancerina’s sisters in misery were Stompanympha, Pullagowna, Friterilla, Stumphantha.]

THE MAESTRO’S CONFESSION.

(ANDREA DAL CASTAGNO—­1460.)

    I.

        Threescore and ten! 
          I wish it were all to live again. 
        Doesn’t the Scripture somewhere say,
        By reason of strength men oft-times may
          Even reach fourscore?  Alack! who knows? 
        Ten sweet, long years of life!  I would paint
        Our Lady and many and many a saint,
          And thereby win my soul’s repose. 
        Yet, Fra Bernardo, you shake your head: 
                Has the leech once said
                I must die?  But he
        Is only a fallible man, you see: 
        Now, if it had been our father the pope,
        I should know there was then no hope. 
        Were only I sure of a few kind years
        More to be merry in, then my fears
        I’d slip for a while, and turn and smile
        At their hated reckonings:  whence the need
        Of squaring accounts for word and deed
        Till the lease is up?...  How? hear I right? 
        No, no!  You could not have said, To-night!

        II.

                Ah, well! ah, well! 
        “Confess”—­you tell me—­“and be forgiven.” 
        Is there no easier path to heaven? 
          Santa Maria! how can I tell
        What, now for a score of years and more,
          I’ve buried away in my heart so deep
        That, howso tired I’ve been, I’ve kept
        Eyes waking when near me another slept,
          Lest I might mutter it in my sleep? 
          And now at the last to blab it clear! 
        How the women will shrink from my pictures!  And worse
        Will the men do—­spit on my name, and curse;
          But then up in heaven I shall not hear.