Personal sketches of his own times, Vol. 3 (of 3) — Themes and Context

lliam Stammer, Bart., being (as he himself often informed me, and which I believe to be true,) an excellent, good-hearted kind of person, and having by nature an even, smooth-trotting temper, with plenty of peace and quietness in it, bore his rank with laudable moderation: but as he was the first genuine corporator the Union had honoured by this _imperial_ dignity, he felt a sort of loyal fervor, which urged him to make some particular acknowledgment to his gracious Majesty for so unprecedented a mark of distinction. But in what way a sober British king should be complimented by an Irish wine-merchant was a matter which required much ingenuity and profound consideration. At length, it was suggested and strongly urged by several of his civic friends, (especially those of the feminine gender,) that his Lordship had it actually within his power to pay as loyal and handsome a compliment as ever was paid to any king of England by an Irish gentleman with a twang to his surname; _videlicet_, by sacrificing the old Irish pronunciation thereof, ameliorating the sound, and changing it in such sort, that it might be adapted to the court language, and uttered without any difficulty or grimace by the prettiest mouths of the highest classes of British society; it was, in fact, strenuously argued that, instead of the old hacknied family name commonly pronounced Stam-mer, the word _Steem-er_ (being better vowelled and Anglicised) would sound far more genteel and modern, and ring more gratefully in the ear of royalty. It was also urged, how Mrs. Clarke’s friend, the Rev. Dr. O’Meara, unfortunately lost the honour of preaching before royalty by his pertinacity in retaining the abominable _O_, and that had he dropped that hideous prefixture, and been announced plainly as the Rev. Doctor Meera, his doctrines might probably have atoned for his Milesianality, and a stall in some cathedral, or at least a rural deanery, might have rewarded his powers of declamation.

“Having begun so well, who knows what famous end you may arrive at, Sir William?” said Sir Jemmy Riddle, the then high sheriff (a very good man too), who was be-knighted on the same occasion. “When we all go to St. James’s,” continued Sir Jemmy, “to thank our Sovereign and kiss his hand in _his own metrolopus_, sure the name of our Lord Mayor, Sir W. Steemer, will sound every taste as harmonious if not _harmoniouser_, than that of the great Sir Claudius Hunter, or our own Claudius Beresford, or any Claudius in Europe!—and sure, changing _am_ for _ee_, to please his Majesty, is neither a sin nor a shame in any family, were they as old as _Mathuslin_:—besides, old White, the schoolmaster, the greatest scholar, by odds, that ever was in Dublin, told me that one vowel was worth two consonants any day in the year; and that the alteration would make a great difference in the sweetness of the odes he was writing on your promotion.”

Sir William, however, being fond of the old proper name which had stuck to him through thick and thin, in all weathers, and which he and his blood relations had been so long accustomed to spell, did not at all relish the proposed innovation. Besides, he considered that any thing like the assumption of a new name might bring him too much on a level with some _modern_ corporators, who not having any particular cognomen of their own at the time of their nativity, or at least not being able to discover it, but being well christened for fear of accidents, very judiciously took only provisional denominations for their apprenticeship indentures, and postponed the adoption of any immutable surname until they had considered what might probably be most attractive to customers in their several trades.

The grand measure was nevertheless so strongly pressed—the ladies so coaxed the alderman to take the _pretty_ name, and they were so well supported by Sir Charles Vernon, then master of the ceremonies, (and of course the best judge in Ireland of what was good for Sir William at the Castle of Dublin,) that his resolution gradually softened, wavered, and gave way. He became convinced against his will, and at last, with a deep sigh and a couple of imprecations, ungratefully yielded up his old, broad, national _Stammer_, to adopt an Anglicised mincemeat version thereof; and in a few nights, Sir William _Steemer’s_ landau was announced as stopping the way at the breaking up of the Duchess of Richmond’s drawing-room.