QUINN TELLS A PRETTY ROMANCE.
How Widow Doyle Married the Man Who Drove Her to Her late Husband’s Funeral.
IN WEEDS ONLY A FEW WEEKS.
Says Flannigan Was a Theological Student in Dublin, but He Ran Away From Home.
BECAME A HOSTLER HERE.
If He Hadn’t Followed the Wrong Hearse, Quinn Says He Wouldn’t Have Won a Bride.
Quinn says that if Flannigan had not become confused on the Sunday he drove the Widow Doyle to her first husband’s funeral and followed the wrong hearse to Calvary from the Brooklyn side of the river he would still be slaving in the North Moore street livery stable instead of doing the World’s Fair in a style befitting a gentleman of means. And Quinn is a man whom all Flatbush says you may believe.
Quinn attributes Flannigan’s present position to a series of accidents of which the one mentioned above is the culmination. In the first place, Quinn says, Flannigan’s father selected a profession for his son which was distasteful to the latter, causing him to strike out for himself. Coming to America he was compelled to go to work in a livery stable. Then he was ordered to drive the hack hired by the Widow Doyle, and for losing sight of the hearse, which he expected to follow, he was discharged. In desperation he appealed to the widow to intercede with his employer in his behalf, which she did. And finally he wooed her himself and won her. The time that elapsed between the funeral and the marriage, Quinn declares, was less than six weeks.
NOW FOR THE DETAILS.
This is a brief outline of the remarkable tale Quinn tells. To go into the details, which he also furnishes, carries you to Ireland. It was there that Flannigan was born twenty-six years ago. He was named William Frederick. His father, a wealthy Dublin merchant, wanted him to enter the ministry and, looking toward that end, sent him to college.
Flannigan studied theology for a while and then revolted. His father, however, wouldn’t listen to a change of plans. He insisted that the young man should become a minister. So Flannigan concluded to come to America.
He arrived her last April with very little money but lots of grit. He tried to get a place as a bookkeeper or a clerk, but was unable to find any vacancies. In desperation he applied for a job as hostler in a North Moore street livery stable, which he got.
This particular livery stable where Flannigan worked makes a specialty of furnishing carriages for funerals on Sundays. Ordinarily the proprietor has enough coachmen for all occasions. On the Sunday in question, however, he was short a man, and so he pressed Flannigan into the service.
It so happened that the funeral Flannigan’s coach was assigned to attend was that of William Doyle, and the occupants of the coach were the Widow Doyle herself and a relative. This in itself wouldn’t have significant if Flannigan hadn’t got confused and followed the wrong hearse to Calvary from the Brooklyn side of the river, as mentioned in the opening paragraph.
FLANNIGAN GETS CONFUSED.
The funeral of William Doyle was a big one. There were more carriages in line than the eastside had seen for many a day. This is easily understood when it is known that the deceased was worth at least $25,000.
The procession moved from Henry street to the East River ferry at the foot of Grand street. Driver Flannigan’s position in the line should have been immediately behind the black plumed hearse drawn by two black horses in heavy mourning trappings. Driver Flannigan was green on the box of a coach, however, and instead of getting near the front of the procession he got crowded near the rear.
When the ferry was reached there were so many carriages in line that they could not all get on the same boat. One of those which had to wait for the second trip was the coach containing the Widow Doyle driven by Flannigan. But the curtains were drawn and the widow didn’t know it.
Upon reaching the Brooklyn side of the river Driver Flannigan saw a hearse waiting at the head of a line of carriages. It was a black plumed hearse, too, drawn by two black horse in heavy mourning trappings, and it was only natural that Driver Flannigan should have pulled his coach into the line.
It looked also as if they had been waiting for him because the procession got under way immediately after he joined it.
A SURPRISE FOR THE MOURNERS.
In due time the grave in Calvary was reached and the many mourners alighted. Widow Doyle was among them. They gathered around the open grave, and then apparently for the first time the widow made observations through her heavy widow’s weeds. The result was startling. The faces of the mourners were strange to her.
“Theses are not my relatives,” she shrieked. “This is not the casket which contains the remains of my beloved husband.”
Quinn, of Flatbush, suggests that you can imagine the sensation this announcement caused.
Driver Flannigan lost control of most of his senses on the spot. The more Widow Doyle hysterically assailed him the more demoralized he became. She demanded that he drive for his life and find the grave where her husband was to be buried, and he lost no time in getting away.
Flannigan found the grave in a remote corner of the cemetery just as the undertaker was preparing to lower the casket. He had waited as long as he could for the missing widow and had concluded to go on with the funeral, as it was nearly time to close the cemetery gates.
The casket was over the open grave when the gathered mourners were suddenly enveloped in a shower of dust. When it cleared away Widow Doyle was among them. She threw a handful of earth on the lowered casket and then explained the trouble.
DRIVER FLANNIGAN DISCHARGED.
Widow Doyle called at the livery stable on the following day, and as a result of her visit Flannigan was discharged.
At this point it should be stated, on the authority of Quinn, of Flatbush, Flannigan got his first opportunity to utilize his collegiate education.
Having noted that Widow Doyle was young and handsome, and being young and handsome himself, he decided to ask her to intercede in his behalf. With this idea in view Flannigan called upon the widow. His eloquent language, Quinn says, impressed her and she granted his request. As a result he got his old job back.
The action of the story quickens here. The acquaintance between the Widow Doyle and Flannigan ripened, and on July 28 they were married. The funeral occurred on June 23.
Upon the death of Doyle his widow came in possession of something like $25,000, Quinn says. So it isn’t strange that Flannigan gave up his job as hostler when Widow Doyle became his wife. They went to live in a cosy little flat in Second avenue, and Flannigan then secured a place in a mercantile house easily enough.
They have since broken up housekeeping, stored their furniture and gone to the World’s Fair. At least that is what Quinn, of Flatbush, says.
If you want Quinn to tell the story in his own inimitable way you will find him at No. 194A Ninth street, South Brooklyn.
New York [NY] Herald 21 August 1893: p. 5
Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Well, really. Where was the undertaker in charge of the Doyle funeral, Mrs Daffodil would like to know? He should have been there directing the order of the funeral carriages and making everything run as smoothly as a casket on casters. Flannigan, in losing his job, was more to be pitied than censured. Still, since one so rarely finds such a happy ending in the wake of a death and the loss of a position, Mrs Daffodil will have to stretch a point and suggest that the negligence of the undertaker was a blessing in disguise.
Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdote
You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.
The Victorian Book of the Dead 