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diff --git a/5240-h/5240-h.htm b/5240-h/5240-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c1ca712 --- /dev/null +++ b/5240-h/5240-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,26019 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer, by Charles James Lever</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer, by Charles James Lever</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Charles James Lever</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 10, 2002 [eBook #5240]<br /> +[Most recently updated: October 3, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Mary Munarin and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER ***</div> + +<h1>The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)</h2> + +<h3>Dublin</h3> + +<h3>MDCCCXXXIX.</h3> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/spine.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration: spine]" /> +</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration:titlepage]" /> +</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus01"></a> +<a href="images/fig01.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig01.jpg" width="316" height="600" alt="Illustration: The Inn at Munich" /></a> +<p class="caption">The Inn at Munich</p> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="poem"> +“We talked of pipe-clay regulation caps—<br/> + Long twenty-fours—short culverins and mortars—<br/> +Condemn’d the ‘Horse Guards’ for a set of raps,<br/> + And cursed our fate at being in such quarters.<br/> +Some smoked, some sighed, and some were heard to snore;<br/> + Some wished themselves five fathoms ’neath the Solway;<br/> +And some did pray—who never prayed before—<br/> + That they might get the ‘route’ for Cork or Galway.”<br/> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch1">CHAPTER I. Arrival in Cork—Civic Festivities—Private Theatricals</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch2">CHAPTER II. Detachment Duty—The Burton Arms—Callonby</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch3">CHAPTER III. Life at Callonby—Love-making—Miss O’Dowd’s Adventure</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch4">CHAPTER IV. Botanical Studies—The Natural System preferable to the Linnaean</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch5">CHAPTER V. Puzzled—Explanation—Makes bad worse—The Duel</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch6">CHAPTER VI. The Priest’s Supper—Father Malachi and the Coadjutor—Major Jones and the Abbé</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch7">CHAPTER VII. The Lady’s Letter—Peter and his Acquaintances—Too late</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch8">CHAPTER VIII. Congratulations—Sick Leave—How to pass the Board</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch9">CHAPTER IX. The Road—Travelling Acquaintances—A Packet Adventure</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch10">CHAPTER X. Upset—Mind and Body</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch11">CHAPTER XI. Cheltenham—Matrimonial Adventure—Showing how to make love for a friend</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch12">CHAPTER XII. Dublin—Tom O’Flaherty—A Reminiscence of the Peninsula</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch13">CHAPTER XIII. Dublin—The Boarding-house—Select Society</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch14">CHAPTER XIV. The Chase</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch15">CHAPTER XV. Mems Of the North Cork</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch16">CHAPTER XVI. Theatricals</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch17">CHAPTER XVII. (The chapter number is a repeat) The Wager</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch18">CHAPTER XVIII. The Elopement</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch19">CHAPTER XIX. Detachment Duty—An Assize Town</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch20">CHAPTER XX. The Assize Town</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch21">CHAPTER XXI. A Day in Dublin</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch22">CHAPTER XXII. A Night at Howth</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch23">CHAPTER XXIII. The Journey</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch24">CHAPTER XXIV. Calais</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch25">CHAPTER XXV. The Gen d’Arme</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch26">CHAPTER XXVI. The Inn at Chantraine</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch27">CHAPTER XXVII. Mr O’Leary</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch28">CHAPTER XXVIII. Paris</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch29">CHAPTER XXIX. Paris</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch30">CHAPTER XXX. Captain Trevanion’s Adventure</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch31">CHAPTER XXXI. Difficulties</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch32">CHAPTER XXXII. Explanation</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch33">CHAPTER XXXIII. Mr O’Leary’s First Love</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch34">CHAPTER XXXIV. Mr O’Leary’s Second Love</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch35">CHAPTER XXXV. The Duel</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch36">CHAPTER XXXVI. Early Recollections—A First Love</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch37">CHAPTER XXXVII. Wise Resolves</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch38">CHAPTER XXXVIII. The Proposal</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch39">CHAPTER XXXIX. Thoughts upon Matrimony in general, and in the Army in particular—The Knight of Kerry and Billy M’Cabe</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch40">CHAPTER XL. A Reminiscence</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch41">CHAPTER XLI. The Two Letters</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch42">CHAPTER XLII. Mr O’Leary’s Capture</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch43">CHAPTER XLIII. The Journey</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch44">CHAPTER XLIV. The Journey</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch45">CHAPTER XLV. A Reminscence of the East</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch46">CHAPTER XLVI. A Day in the Phœnix</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch47">CHAPTER XLVII. An Adventure in Canada</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch48">CHAPTER XLVIII. The Courier’s Passport</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch49">CHAPTER XLIX. A Night in Strasbourg</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch50">CHAPTER L. A Surprise</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch51">CHAPTER LI. Jack Waller’s Story</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch52">CHAPTER LII. Munich</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch53">CHAPTER LIII. Inn at Munich</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch54">CHAPTER LIV. The Ball</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch55">CHAPTER LV. A Discovery</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#ch56">CHAPTER LVI. Conclusion</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>LIST OF PLATES</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus01">The Inn at Munich</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus02">Lorrequer on Parade</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus03">Nicholas Announcing Miss Betty O’Dowd’s Carriage</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus04">The Sentry Challenging Father Luke and the Abbé</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus05">The Supper at Father Malachi’s</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus06">Mrs. Mulrooney and Sir Stewart Moore</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus07">Lorrequer Making His Escape From Col. Kamworth’s</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus08">Mr. Cudmore Filling the Teapot</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus09">Dr. Finucane and the Grey Mare</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus10">Lorrequer Practising Physic</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus11">Mr. Burke’s Enthusiasm for the Duke of Wellington</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus12">The Passport Office</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus13">Lorrequer as Postillion</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus14">Mr. O’Leary Creating a Sensation at the Salon des Etranges</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus15">Trevanion Astonishing the Bully Gendemar</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus16">Mr. O’Leary Charges the Mob</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus17">Mr. O’Leary Imagines Himself Kilt</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus18">Harry Proves Himself a Man of Metal</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus19">Mr. O’Leary’s Double Capture</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus20">Mr. Malone and Friend</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus21">Lorrequer’s Debut at Strasburg</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus22">The Inn at Munich</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus23">Arrival of Charge d’Affairs</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center"> +To Sir George Hamilton Seymour, G.C.H.<br/> +&c. &c. +</p> + +<p> +My Dear Sir Hamilton, +</p> + +<p> +If a feather will show how the wind blows, perhaps my dedicating to you even as +light matter as these Confessions may in some measure prove how grateful I feel +for the many kindnesses I have received from you in the course of our intimacy. +While thus acknowledging a debt, I must also avow that another motive strongly +prompts me upon this occasion. I am not aware of any one, to whom with such +propriety a volume of anecdote and adventure should be inscribed, as to one, +himself well known as an inimitable narrator. Could I have stolen for my story, +any portion of the grace and humour with which I have heard you adorn many of +your own, while I should deem this offering more worthy of your acceptance, I +should also feel more confident of its reception by the public. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +With every sentiment of esteem and regard,<br/> +Believe me very faithfully yours,<br/> +THE AUTHOR. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Bruxelles, December, 1839. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>PREFATORY EPISTLE.</h2> + +<p class="letter"> +Dear Public, +</p> + +<p> +When first I set about recording the scenes which occupy these pages, I had no +intention of continuing them, except in such stray and scattered fragments as +the columns of a Magazine[*] permit of; and when at length I discovered that +some interest had attached not only to the adventures, but to their narrator, I +would gladly have retired with my “little laurels” from a stage, on +which, having only engaged to appear between the acts, I was destined to come +forward as a principal character. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* The Dublin University Magazine. +</p> + +<p> +Among the “miseries of human life,” a most touching one is spoken +of—the being obliged to listen to the repetition of a badly sung song, +because some well-wishing, but not over discreet friend of the singer has +called loudly for an <i>encore</i>. +</p> + +<p> +I begin very much to fear that something of the kind has taken place here, and +that I should have acted a wiser part, had I been contented with even the still +small voice of a few partial friends, and retired from the boards in the +pleasing delusion of success; but unfortunately, the same easy temperament that +has so often involved me before, has been faithful to me here; and when you +pretended to be pleased, unluckily, I believed you. +</p> + +<p> +So much of apology for the matter—a little now for the manner of my +offending, and I have done. I wrote as I felt—sometimes in good spirits, +sometimes in bad—always carelessly—for, God help me, I can do no +better. +</p> + +<p> +When the celibacy of the Fellows of Trinity College, Dublin, became an active +law in that University, the Board proceeded to enforce it, by summoning to +their presence all the individuals who it was well known had transgressed the +regulation, and among them figured Dr. S., many of whose sons were at the same +time students in the college. “Are you married, Dr. +S——r?” said the bachelor vice-provost, in all the dignity and +pride of conscious innocence. “Married!” said the father of ten +children, with a start of involuntary horror;—“married?” +“Yes sir, married.” “Why sir, I am no more married than the +Provost.” This was quite enough—no further questions were asked, +and the head of the University preferred a merciful course towards the +offender, to repudiating his wife and disowning his children. Now for the +application. Certain captious and incredulous people have doubted the veracity +of the adventures I have recorded in these pages; I do not think it necessary +to appeal to concurrent testimony and credible witnesses for their proof, but I +pledge myself to the fact that every tittle I have related is as true as that +my name is Lorrequer—need I say more? +</p> + +<p> +Another objection has been made to my narrative, and I cannot pass it by +without a word of remark;—“these Confessions are wanting in scenes +of touching and pathetic interest”[*]—true, quite true; but I +console myself on this head, for I remember hearing of an author whose +paraphrase of the book of Job was refused by a publisher, if he could not throw +a little more humour into it; and if I have not been more miserable and more +unhappy, I am very sorry for it on <i>your</i> account, but you must excuse my +regretting it on <i>my own</i>. Another story and I have done;—the +Newgate Calendar makes mention of a notorious housebreaker, who closed his +career of outrage and violence by the murder of a whole family, whose house he +robbed; on the scaffold he entreated permission to speak a few words to the +crowd beneath, and thus addressed them:—“My friends, it is quite +true I murdered this family; in cold blood I did it—one by one they fell +beneath my hand, while I rifled their coffers, and took forth their effects; +but one thing is imputed to me, which I cannot die without denying—it is +asserted that I stole an extinguisher; the contemptible character of this petty +theft is a stain upon my reputation, that I cannot suffer to disgrace my +memory.” So would I now address you for all the graver offences of my +book; I stand forth guilty—miserably, palpably guilty—they are mine +every one of them; and I dare not, I cannot deny them; but if you think that +the blunders in French and the hash of spelling so widely spread through these +pages, are attributable to me; on the faith of a gentleman I pledge myself you +are wrong, and that I had nothing to do with them. If my thanks for the +kindness and indulgence with which these hastily written and rashly conceived +sketches have been received by the press and the public, are of any avail, let +me add, in conclusion, that a more grateful author does not exist than +</p> + +<p class="right"> +HARRY LORREQUER +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* We have the author’s permission to state, that all the pathetic and +moving incidents of his career he has reserved for a second series of +“Confessions,” to be entitled “Lorrequer +<i>Married?</i>”—<i>Publisher’s Note</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>A WORD OF INTRODUCTION.</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Story! God bless you; I have none to tell, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +It is now many—do not ask me to say how many—years since I received +from the Horse Guards the welcome intelligence that I was gazetted to an +ensigncy in his Majesty’s —th Foot, and that my name, which had +figured so long in the “Duke’s” list, with the words “a +very hard case” appended, should at length appear in the monthly record +of promotions and appointments. +</p> + +<p> +Since then my life has been passed in all the vicissitudes of war and peace. +The camp and the bivouac—the reckless gaiety of the mess-table—the +comfortless solitude of a French prison—the exciting turmoils of active +service—the wearisome monotony of garrison duty, I have alike partaken +of, and experienced. A career of this kind, with a temperament ever ready to go +with the humour of those about him will always be sure of its meed of +adventure. Such has mine been; and with no greater pretension than to chronicle +a few of the scenes in which I have borne a part, and revive the memory of the +other actors in them—some, alas! now no more—I have ventured upon +these “Confessions.” +</p> + +<p> +If I have not here selected that portion of my life which most abounded in +striking events and incidents most worthy of recording, my excuse is simply, +because being my first appearance upon the boards, <i>I</i> preferred +accustoming myself to the look of the house, while performing the +“Cock,” to coming before the audience in the more difficult part of +Hamlet. +</p> + +<p> +As there are unhappily impracticable people in the world, who, as Curran +expressed it, are never content to know “who killed the gauger, if you +can’t inform them who wove his corduroys”—to all such I +would, in deep humility, say, that with my “Confessions” they have +nothing to do—I have neither story nor moral—my only pretension to +the one, is the detail of a passion which marked some years of my life; my only +attempt at the other, the effort to show how prolific in hair-breadth +‘scapes may a man’s career become, who, with a warm imagination and +easy temper, believes too much, and rarely can feign a part without forgetting +that he is acting. Having said thus much, I must once more bespeak the +indulgence never withheld from a true penitent, and at once begin my +“Confessions.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ch1" id="ch1"></a> CHAPTER I.<br/> +ARRIVAL IN CORK—CIVIC FESTIVITIES—PRIVATE THEATRICALS.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus02"></a> +<a href="images/fig02.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig02.jpg" width="483" height="600" alt="Illustration: +Lorrequer on Parade" /></a> +<p class="caption">Lorrequer On Parade</p> +</div> + +<p> +It was on a splendid morning in the autumn of the year 181— that the +Howard transport, with four hundred of his Majesty’s 4—th Regt., +dropped anchor in the beautiful harbour of Cove; the sea shone under the purple +light of the rising sun with a rich rosy hue, beautifully in contrast with the +different tints of the foliage of the deep woods already tinged with the brown +of autumn. Spike Island lay “sleeping upon its broad shadow,” and +the large ensign which crowns the battery was wrapped around the flag-staff, +there not being even air enough to stir it. It was still so early, that but few +persons were abroad; and as we leaned over the bulwarks, and looked now, for +the first time for eight long years, upon British ground, many an eye filled, +and many a heaving breast told how full of recollections that short moment was, +and how different our feelings from the gay buoyancy with which we had sailed +from that same harbour for the Peninsula; many of our best and bravest had we +left behind us, and more than one native to the land we were approaching had +found his last rest in the soil of the stranger. It was, then, with a mingled +sense of pain and pleasure, we gazed upon that peaceful little village, whose +white cottages lay dotted along the edge of the harbour. The moody silence our +thoughts had shed over us was soon broken: the preparations for disembarking +had begun, and I recollect well to this hour how, shaking off the load that +oppressed my heart, I descended the gangway, humming poor Wolfe’s +well-known song— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Why, soldiers, why<br/> +Should we be melancholy, boys?” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +And to this elasticity of spirits—whether the result of my profession, or +the gift of God—as Dogberry has it—I know not—I owe the +greater portion of the happiness I have enjoyed in a life, whose changes and +vicissitudes have equalled most men’s. +</p> + +<p> +Drawn up in a line along the shore, I could scarce refrain from a smile at our +appearance. Four weeks on board a transport will certainly not contribute much +to the “personnel” of any unfortunate therein confined; but when, +in addition to this, you take into account that we had not received new clothes +for three years—if I except caps for our grenadiers, originally intended +for a Scotch regiment, but found to be all too small for the long-headed +generation. Many a patch of brown and grey, variegated the faded scarlet, +“of our uniform,” and scarcely a pair of knees in the entire +regiment did not confess their obligations to a blanket. But with all this, we +shewed a stout, weather-beaten front, that, disposed as the passer-by might +feel to laugh at our expense, very little caution would teach him it was fully +as safe to indulge it in his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +The bells from every steeple and tower rung gaily out a peal of welcome as we +marched into “that beautiful city called Cork,” our band playing +“Garryowen”—for we had been originally raised in Ireland, and +still among our officers maintained a strong majority from that land of punch, +priests, and potatoes—the tattered flag of the regiment proudly waving +over our heads, and not a man amongst us whose warm heart did not bound behind +a Waterloo medal. Well—well! I am now—alas, that I should say +it—somewhat in the “sear and yellow;” and I confess, after +the experience of some moments of high, triumphant feeling, that I never before +felt within me, the same animating, spirit-filling glow of delight, as rose +within my heart that day, as I marched at the head of my company down +George’s-street. +</p> + +<p> +We were soon settled in barracks; and then began a series of entertainments on +the side of the civic dignities of Cork, which soon led most of us to believe +that we had only escaped shot and shell to fall less gloriously beneath +champagne and claret. I do not believe there is a coroner in the island who +would have pronounced but the one verdict over the regiment—“Killed +by the mayor and corporation,” had we so fallen. +</p> + +<p> +First of all, we were dined by the citizens of Cork—and, to do them +justice, a harder drinking set of gentlemen no city need boast; then we were +feasted by the corporation; then by the sheriffs; then came the mayor, solus; +then an address, with a cold collation, that left eight of us on the sick-list +for a fortnight; but the climax of all was a grand entertainment given in the +mansion-house, and to which upwards of two thousand were invited. It was a +species of fancy ball, beginning by a dejeune at three o’clock in the +afternoon, and ending—I never yet met the man who could tell when it +ended; as for myself, my finale partook a little of the adventurous, and I may +as well relate it. +</p> + +<p> +After waltzing for about an hour with one of the prettiest girls I ever set +eyes upon, and getting a tender squeeze of the hand, as I restored her to a +most affable-looking old lady in a blue turban and a red velvet gown who smiled +most benignly on me, and called me “Meejor,” I retired to recruit +for a new attack, to a small table, where three of ours were quaffing +“ponche a la Romaine,” with a crowd of Corkagians about them, +eagerly inquiring after some heroes of their own city, whose deeds of arms they +were surprised did not obtain special mention from “the Duke.” I +soon ingratiated myself into this well-occupied clique, and dosed them with +glory to their hearts’ content. I resolved at once to enter into their +humour; and as the “ponche” mounted up to my brain I gradually +found my acquaintanceship extend to every family and connexion in the country. +</p> + +<p> +“Did ye know Phil Beamish of the 3—th, sir?” said a tall, +red-faced, red-whiskered, well-looking gentleman, who bore no slight +resemblance to Feargus O’Connor. +</p> + +<p> +“Phil Beamish!” said I. “Indeed I did, sir, and do still; and +there is not a man in the British army I am prouder of knowing.” Here, by +the way, I may mention that I never heard the name till that moment. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t say so, sir?” said Feargus—for so I must +call him, for shortness sake. “Has he any chance of the company yet, +sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Company!” said I, in astonishment. “He obtained his majority +three months since. You cannot possibly have heard from lately, or you would +have known that?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true, sir. I never heard since he quitted the 3—th to +go to Versailles, I think they call it, for his health. But how did he get the +step, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, as to the company, that was remarkable enough!” said I, +quaffing off a tumbler of champagne, to assist my invention. “You know it +was about four o’clock in the afternoon of the 18th that Napoleon ordered +Grouchy to advance with the first and second brigade of the Old Guard and two +regiments of chasseurs, and attack the position occupied by Picton and the +regiments under his command. Well, sir, on they came, masked by the smoke of a +terrific discharge of artillery, stationed on a small eminence to our left, and +which did tremendous execution among our poor fellows—on they came, Sir; +and as the smoke cleared partially away we got a glimpse of them, and a more +dangerous looking set I should not desire to see: grizzle-bearded, +hard-featured, bronzed fellows, about five-and-thirty or forty years of age; +their beauty not a whit improved by the red glare thrown upon their faces and +along the whole line by each flash of the long twenty-fours that were playing +away to the right. Just at this moment Picton rode down the line with his +staff, and stopping within a few paces of me, said, ‘They’re coming +up; steady, boys; steady now: we shall have something to do soon.’ And +then, turning sharply round, he looked in the direction of the French battery, +that was thundering away again in full force, ‘Ah, that must be +silenced,’ said he, ‘Where’s +Beamish?’—“Says Picton!” interrupted Feargus, his eyes +starting from their sockets, and his mouth growing wider every moment, as he +listed with the most intense interest. “Yes,” said I, slowly; and +then, with all the provoking nonchalance of an Italian improvisatore, who +always halts at the most exciting point of his narrative, I begged a listener +near me to fill my glass from the iced punch beside him. Not a sound was heard +as I lifted the bumper to my lips; all were breathless in their wound-up +anxiety to hear of their countryman who had been selected by Picton—for +what, too, they knew not yet, and, indeed, at this instant I did not know +myself, and nearly laughed outright, for the two of our men who had remained at +the table had so well employed their interval of ease as to become very +pleasantly drunk, and were listening to my confounded story with all the +gravity and seriousness in the world. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Where’s Beamish?’ said Picton. ‘Here, +sir,’ said Phil stepping out from the line and touching his cap to the +general, who, taking him apart for a few minutes, spoke to him with great +animation. We did not know what he said; but before five minutes were over, +there was Phil with three companies of light-bobs drawn up at our left; their +muskets at the charge, they set off at a round trot down the little steep which +closed our flank. We had not much time to follow their movements, for our own +amusement began soon; but I well remember, after repelling the French attack, +and standing in square against two heavy charges of cuirassiers, the first +thing I saw where the French battery had stood, was Phil Beamish and about a +handful of brave fellows, all that remained from the skirmish. He captured two +of the enemy’s field-pieces, and was ‘Captain Beamish’ on the +day after.” +</p> + +<p> +“Long life to him,” said at least a dozen voices behind and about +me, while a general clinking of decanters and smacking of lips betokened that +Phil’s health with all the honours was being celebrated. For myself, I +was really so engrossed by my narrative, and so excited by the +“ponche,” that I saw or heard very little of what was passing +around, and have only a kind of dim recollection of being seized by the hand by +“Feargus,” who was Beamish’s brother, and who, in the +fullness of his heart, would have hugged me to his breast, if I had not +opportunely been so overpowered as to fall senseless under the table. +</p> + +<p> +When I first returned to consciousness, I found myself lying exactly where I +had fallen. Around me lay heaps of slain—the two of “ours” +amongst the number. One of them—I remember he was the adjutant—held +in his hand a wax candle (three to the pound). Whether he had himself seized it +in the enthusiasm of my narrative of flood and field, or it had been put there +by another, I know not, but he certainly cut a droll figure. The room we were +in was a small one off the great saloon, and through the half open folding-door +I could clearly perceive that the festivities were still continued. The crash +of fiddles and French horns, and the tramp of feet, which had lost much of +their elasticity since the entertainments began, rang through my ears, mingled +with the sounds “down the middle,” “hands across,” +“here’s your partner, Captain.” What hour of the night or +morning it then was, I could not guess; but certainly the vigor of the party +seemed little abated, if I might judge from the specimens before me, and the +testimony of a short plethoric gentleman, who stood wiping his bald head, after +conducting his partner down twenty-eight couple, and who, turning to his +friend, said, “Oh, the distance is nothing, but it is the pace that +kills.” +</p> + +<p> +The first evidence I shewed of any return to reason, was a strong anxiety to be +at my quarters; but how to get there I knew not. The faint glimmering of sense +I possessed told me that “to stand was to fall,” and I was ashamed +to go on all-fours, which prudence suggested. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment I remembered I had brought with me my cane, which, from a +perhaps pardonable vanity, I was fond of parading. It was a present from the +officers of my regiment—many of them, alas, since dead—and had a +most splendid gold head, with a stag at the top—the arms of the regiment. +This I would not have lost for any consideration I can mention; and this now +was gone! I looked around me on every side; I groped beneath the table; I +turned the sleeping sots who lay about in no very gentle fashion; but, alas, it +was gone. I sprang to my feet and only then remembered how unfit I was to +follow up the search, as tables, chairs, lights, and people seemed all rocking +and waving before me. However, I succeeded in making my way, through one room +into another, sometimes guiding my steps along the walls; and once, as I +recollect, seeking the diagonal of a room, I bisected a quadrille with such +ill-directed speed, as to run foul of a Cork dandy and his partner who were +just performing the “en avant:” but though I saw them lie tumbled +in the dust by the shock of my encounter—for I had upset them—I +still held on the even tenor of my way. In fact, I had feeling for but one +loss; and, still in pursuit of my cane, I reached the hall-door. Now, be it +known that the architecture of the Cork Mansion House has but one fault, but +that fault is a grand one, and a strong evidence of how unsuited English +architects are to provide buildings for a people whose tastes and habits they +but imperfectly understand—be it known, then, that the descent from the +hall-door to the street was by a flight of twelve stone steps. How I should +ever get down these was now my difficulty. If Falstaff deplored “eight +yards of uneven ground as being three score and ten miles a foot,” with +equal truth did I feel that these twelve awful steps were worse to me than +would be M’Gillicuddy Reeks in the day-light, and with a head clear from +champagne. +</p> + +<p> +While I yet hesitated, the problem resolved itself; for, gazing down upon the +bright gravel, brilliantly lighted by the surrounding lamps, I lost my balance, +and came tumbling and rolling from top to bottom, where I fell upon a large +mass of some soft substance, to which, in all probability, I owe my life. In a +few seconds I recovered my senses, and what was my surprise to find that the +downy cushion beneath, snored most audibly! I moved a little to one side, and +then discovered that in reality it was nothing less than an alderman of Cork, +who, from his position, I concluded had shared the same fate with myself; there +he lay, “like a warrior taking his rest,” but not with his +“martial cloak around him,” but a much more comfortable and far +more costly robe—a scarlet gown of office—with huge velvet cuffs +and a great cape of the same material. True courage consists in presence of +mind; and here mine came to my aid at once: recollecting the loss I had just +sustained, and perceiving that all was still about me, with that right +Peninsular maxim, that reprisals are fair in an enemy’s camp, I proceeded +to strip the slain; and with some little difficulty—partly, indeed, owing +to my unsteadiness on my legs—I succeeded in denuding the worthy +alderman, who gave no other sign of life during the operation than an abortive +effort to “hip, hip, hurra,” in which I left him, having put on the +spoil, and set out on my way to the barrack with as much dignity of manner as +I could assume in honour of my costume. And here I may mention (en parenthese) +that a more comfortable morning gown no man ever possessed, and in its wide +luxuriant folds I revel, while I write these lines. +</p> + +<p> +When I awoke on the following day I had considerable difficulty in tracing the +events of the past evening. The great scarlet cloak, however, unravelled much +of the mystery, and gradually the whole of my career became clear before me, +with the single exception of the episode of Phil Beamish, about which my memory +was subsequently refreshed—but I anticipate. Only five appeared that day +at mess; and, Lord! What spectres they were!—yellow as guineas; they +called for soda water without ceasing, and scarcely spoke a word to each other. +It was plain that the corporation of Cork was committing more havoc among us +than Corunna or Waterloo, and that if we did not change our quarters, there +would be quick promotion in the corps for such as were “seasoned +gentlemen.” After a day or two we met again together, and then what +adventures were told—each man had his own story to narrate; and from the +occurrences detailed, one would have supposed years had been passing, instead +of the short hours of an evening party. Mine were indeed among the least +remarkable; but I confess that the air of vraisemblance produced by my +production of the aldermanic gown gave me the palm above all competitors. +</p> + +<p> +Such was our life in Cork—dining, drinking, dancing, riding steeple +chases, pigeon shooting, and tandem driving—filling up any little +interval that was found to exist between a late breakfast, and the time to +dress for dinner; and here I hope I shall not be accused of a tendency to +boasting, while I add, that among all ranks and degrees of men, and women too, +there never was a regiment more highly in estimation than the 4—th. We +felt the full value of all the attentions we were receiving; and we +endeavoured, as best we might, to repay them. We got up Garrison Balls and +Garrison Plays, and usually performed one or twice a week during the winter. +Here I shone conspicuously; in the morning I was employed painting scenery and +arranging the properties; as it grew later, I regulated the lamps, and looked +after the foot-lights, mediating occasionally between angry litigants, whose +jealousies abound to the full as much, in private theatricals, as in the +regular corps dramatique. Then, I was also leader in the orchestra; and had +scarcely to speak the prologues. Such are the cares of greatness: to do myself +justice, I did not dislike them; though, to be sure, my taste for the drama did +cost me a little dear, as will be seen in the sequel. +</p> + +<p> +We were then in the full career of popularity. Our balls pronounced the very +pleasantest; our plays far superior to any regular corps that had ever honoured +Cork with their talents; when an event occurred which threw a gloom over all +our proceedings, and finally put a stop to every project for amusement, we had +so completely given ourselves up to. This was no less than the removal of our +Lieutenant-Colonel. After thirty years of active service in the regiment he +then commanded, his age and infirmities, increased by some severe wounds, +demanded ease and repose; he retired from us, bearing along with him the love +and regard of every man in the regiment. To the old officers he was endeared by +long companionship, and undeviating friendship; to the young, he was in every +respect as a father, assisting by his advice, and guiding by his counsel; while +to the men, the best estimate of his worth appeared in the fact, that corporeal +punishment was unknown in the corps. Such was the man we lost; and it may well +be supposed, that his successor, who, or whatever he might be, came under +circumstances of no common difficulty amongst us; but, when I tell, that our +new Lieutenant-Colonel was in every respect his opposite, it may be believed +how little cordiality he met with. +</p> + +<p> +Lieutenant-Colonel Carden—for so I shall call him, although not his real +name—had not been a month at quarters, when he proved himself a regular +martinet; everlasting drills, continual reports, fatigue parties, and ball +practice, and heaven knows what besides, superseded our former morning’s +occupation; and, at the end of the time I have metioned, we, who had fought our +way from Albuera to Waterloo, under some of the severest generals of division, +were pronounced a most disorderly and ill-disciplined regiment, by a Colonel, +who had never seen a shot fired but at a review in Hounslow, or a sham-battle +in the Fifteen Acres. The winter was now drawing to a close—already some +little touch of spring was appearing; as our last play for the season was +announced, every effort to close with some little additional effort was made; +and each performer in the expected piece was nerving himself for an effort +beyond his wont. The Colonel had most unequivocally condemned these plays; but +that mattered not; they came not within his jurisdiction; and we took no notice +of his displeasure, further than sending him tickets, which were as immediately +returned as received. From being the chief offender, I had become particularly +obnoxious; and he had upon more than one occasion expressed his desire for an +opportunity to visit me with his vengeance; but being aware of his kind +intentions towards me, I took particular care to let no such opportunity occur. +</p> + +<p> +On the morning in question, then, I had scarcely left my quarters, when one of +my brother officers informed me that the Colonel had made a great uproar, that +one of the bills of the play had been put up on his door—which, with his +avowed dislike to such representations, he considered as intended to insult +him: he added, too, that the Colonel attributed it to me. In this, however, he +was wrong—and, to this hour, I never knew who did it. I had little time, +and still less inclination, to meditate upon the Colonel’s +wrath—the theatre had all my thoughts; and indeed it was a day of no +common exertion, for our amusements were to conclude with a grand supper on the +stage, to which all the elite of Cork were invited. Wherever I went through the +city—and many were my peregrinations—the great placard of the play +stared me in the fact; and every gate and shuttered window in Cork, proclaimed +“T<small>HE PART OF</small> O<small>THELLO</small>, <small>BY</small> +M<small>R</small>. L<small>ORREQUER</small>.” +</p> + +<p> +As evening drew near, my cares and occupations were redoubled. My Iago I had +fears for—’tis true he was an admirable Lord Grizzle in Tom +Thumb—but then—then I had to paint the whole company, and bear all +their abuse besides, for not making some of the most ill-looking wretches, +perfect Apollos; but, last of all, I was sent for, at a quarter to seven, to +lace Desdemona’s stays. Start not, gentle reader—my fair +Desdemona—she “who might lie by an emperor’s side, and +command him tasks”—was no other than the senior lieutenant of the +regiment, and who was a great a votary of the jolly god as honest Cassio +himself. But I must hasten on—I cannot delay to recount our successes in +detail. Let it suffice to say, that, by universal consent, I was preferred to +Kean; and the only fault the most critical observer could find to the +representative of Desdemona, was a rather unlady-like fondness for snuff. But, +whatever little demerits our acting might have displayed, were speedily +forgotten in a champagne supper. There I took the head of the table; and, in +the costume of the noble Moor, toasted, made speeches, returned thanks, and +sung songs, till I might have exclaimed with Othello himself, “Chaos was +come again;”—and I believe I owe my ever reaching the barrack that +night to the kind offices of Desdemona, who carried me the greater part of the +way on her back. +</p> + +<p> +The first waking thoughts of him who has indulged over-night, was not among the +most blissful of existence, and certainly the pleasure is not increased by the +consciousness that he is called on to the discharge of duties to which a +fevered pulse and throbbing temples are but ill-suited. My sleep was suddenly +broken in upon the morning after the play, but a “row-dow-dow” beat +beneath my window. I jumped hastily from my bed, and looked out, and there, to +my horror, perceived the regiment under arms. It was one of our confounded +colonel’s morning drills; and there he stood himself with the poor +adjutant, who had been up all night, shivering beside him. Some two or three of +the officers had descended; and the drum was now summoning the others as it +beat round the barrack-square. I saw there was not a moment to lose, and +proceeded to dress with all despatch; but, to my misery, I discovered every +where nothing but theatrical robes and decorations—there lay a splendid +turban, here a pair of buskins—a spangled jacket glittered on one table, +and a jewelled scimitar on the other. At last I detected my “regimental +small-clothes,” &c. most ignominiously thrust into a corner, in my +ardour for my Moorish robes the preceding evening. +</p> + +<p> +I dressed myself with the speed of lightning; but as I proceeded in my +occupation—guess my annoyance to find that the toilet-table and glass, +ay, and even the basin-stand, had been removed to the dressing-room of the +theatre; and my servant, I suppose, following his master’s example, was +too tipsy to remember to bring them back; so that I was unable to procure the +luxury of cold water—for now not a moment more remained—the drum +had ceased, and the men had all fallen in. Hastily drawing on my coat, I put on +my shako, and buckling on my belt as dandy-like as might be, hurried down the +stairs to the barrack-yard. By the time I got down, the men were all drawn up +in line along the square; while the adjutant was proceeding to examine their +accoutrements, &c. as he passed down. The colonel and the officers were +standing in a group, but no conversing. The anger of the commanding officer +appeared still to continue, and there was a dead silence maintained on both +sides. To reach the spot where they stood, I had to pass along part of the +line. In doing so, how shall I convey my amazement at the faces that met +me—a general titter ran along the entire rank, which not even their fears +for consequences seemed able to repress—for an effort, on the part of +many, to stifle the laugh, only ended in a still louder burst of merriment. I +looked to the far side of the yard for an explanation, but there was nothing +there to account for it. I now crossed over to where the officers were +standing, determining in my own mind to investigate the occurrence thoroughly, +when free from the presence of the colonel, to whom any representation of ill +conduct always brought a punishment far exceeding the merits of the case. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had I formed this resolve, when I reached the group of officers; but +the moment I came near, one general roar of laughter saluted me,—the like +of which I never before heard—I looked down at my costume, expecting to +discover that, in my hurry to dress, I had put on some of the garments of +Othello—No: all was perfectly correct. I waited for a moment, till the +first burst of their merriment over, I should obtain a clue to the jest. But +their mirth appeared to increase. Indeed poor G——, the senior +major, one of the gravest men in Europe, laughed till the tears ran down his +cheeks; and such was the effect upon me, that I was induced to laugh +too—as men will sometimes, from the infectious nature of that strange +emotion; but, no sooner did I do this, than their fun knew no bounds, and some +almost screamed aloud, in the excess of their merriment; just at this instant +the Colonel, who had been examining some of the men, approached our group, +advancing with an air of evident displeasure, as the shouts of loud laughter +continued. As he came up, I turned hastily round, and touching my cap, wished +him good morning. Never shall I forget the look he gave me. If a glance could +have annihilated any man, his would have finished me. For a moment his face +became purple with rage, his eye was almost hid beneath his bent brow, and he +absolutely shook with passion. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, Sir,” said he at length, as soon as he was able to find +utterance for his words; “Go, sir, to your quarters; and before you leave +them, a court-martial shall decide, if such continued insult to your commanding +officer, warrants your name being in the Army List.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil can all this mean?” I said, in a half-whisper, +turning to the others. But there they stood, their handkerchiefs to their +mouths, and evidently choking with suppressed laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“May I beg, Colonel C——,” said I—— +</p> + +<p> +“To your quarters, sir,” roared the little man, in the voice of a +lion. And with a haughty wave of his hand, prevented all further attempt on my +part to seek explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re all mad, every man of them,” I muttered, as I betook +byself slowly back to my rooms, amid the same evidences of mirth my first +appearance had excited—which even the Colonel’s presence, feared as +he was, could not entirely subdue. +</p> + +<p> +With the air of a martyr I trod heavily up the stairs, and entered my quarters, +meditating within myself, awful schemes for vengeance, on the now open tyranny +of my Colonel; upon whom, I too, in my honest rectitude of heart, vowed to have +“a court-martial.” I threw myself upon a chair, and endeavoured to +recollect what circumstance of the past evening could have possibly suggested +all the mirth in which both officers and men seemed to participate equally; but +nothing could I remember, capable of solving the mystery,—surely the +cruel wrongs of the manly Othello were no laughter-moving subject. +</p> + +<p> +I rang the bell hastily for my servant. The door opened. +</p> + +<p> +“Stubbes,” said I, “are you aware”—— +</p> + +<p> +I had only got so far in my question, when my servant, one of the most discreet +of men, put on a broad grin, and turned away towards the door to hide his face. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil does this mean?” said I, stamping with passion; +“he is as bad as the rest. Stubbes,” and this I spoke with the most +grave and severe tone, “what is the meaning of the insolence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir,” said the man; “Oh, sir, surely you did not appear +on parade with that face?” and then he burst into a fit of the most +uncontrollable laughter. +</p> + +<p> +Like lightning a horrid doubt shot across my mind. I sprung over to the +dressing-glass, which had been replaced, and oh: horror of horrors! There I +stood as black as the king of Ashantee. The cursed dye which I had put on for +Othello, I had never washed off,—and there with a huge bear-skin shako, +and a pair of black, bushy whiskers, shone my huge, black, and polished visage, +glowering at itself in the looking-glass. +</p> + +<p> +My first impulse, after amazement had a little subsided, was to laugh +immoderately; in this I was joined by Stubbes, who, feeling that his mirth was +participated in, gave full vent to his risibility. And, indeed, as I stood +before the glass, grinning from ear to ear, I felt very little surprise that my +joining in the laughter of my brother officers, a short time before, had caused +an increase of their merriment. I threw myself upon a sofa, and absolutely +laughed till my sides ached, when, the door opening, the adjutant made his +appearance. He looked for a moment at me, then at Stubbes, and then burst out +himself, as loud as either of us. When he had at length recovered himself, he +wiped his face with his handkerchief, and said, with a tone of much +gravity:— +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear Lorrequer, this will be a serious—a devilish serious +affair. You know what kind of man Colonel C—— is; and you are +aware, too, you are not one of his prime favourites. He is firmly convinced +that you intended to insult him, and nothing will convince him to the contrary. +We told him how it must have occurred, but he will listen to no +explanation.” +</p> + +<p> +I thought for one second before I replied, my mind, with the practised rapidity +of an old campaigner, took in all the pros and cons of the case; I saw at a +glance, it were better to brave the anger of the Colonel, come in what shape it +might, than be the laughing-stock of the mess for life, and with a face of the +greatest gravity and self-possession, said, +</p> + +<p> +“Well, adjutant, the Colonel is right. It was no mistake! You know I sent +him tickets yesterday for the theatre. Well, he returned them; this did not +annoy me, but on one account, I had made a wager with Alderman Gullable, that +the Colonel should see me in Othello—what was to be done? Don’t you +see, now, there was only one course, and I took it, old boy, and have won my +bet!” +</p> + +<p> +“And lost your commission for a dozen of champagne, I suppose,” +said the adjutant. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, my dear fellow,” I repled; “I shall get out of +this scrape, as I have done many others.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what do you intend doing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as to that,” said I, “I shall, of course, wait on the +Colonel immediately; pretend to him that it was a mere blunder, from the +inattention of my servant—hand over Stubbes to the powers that punish, +(here the poor fellow winced a little,) and make my peace as well as I can. +But, adjutant, mind,” said I, “and give the real version to all our +fellows, and tell them to make it public as much as they please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never fear,” said he, as he left the room still laughing, +“they shall all know the true story; but I wish with all my heart you +were well out of it.” +</p> + +<p> +I now lost no time in making my toilet, and presented myself at the +Colonel’s quarters. It is no pleasure for me to recount these passages in +my life, in which I have had to hear the “proud man’s +contumely.” I shall therefore merely observe, that after a very long +interview, the Colonel accepted my apologies, and we parted. +</p> + +<p> +Before a week elapsed, the story had gone far and near; every dinner-table in +Cork had laughed at it. As for me, I attained immortal honour for my tact and +courage. Poor Gullable readily agreed to favour the story, and gave us a dinner +as the lost wager, and the Colonel was so unmercifully quizzed on the subject, +and such broad allusions to his being humbugged were given in the Cork papers, +that he was obliged to negociate a change of quarters with another regiment, to +get out of the continual jesting, and in less than a month we marched to +Limerick, to relieve, as it was reported, the 9th, ordered for foreign service, +but, in reality, only to relieve Lieut.-Colonel C——, quizzed beyond +endurance. +</p> + +<p> +However, if the Colonel had seemed to forgive, he did not forget, for the very +second week after our arrival in Limerick, I received one morning at my +breakfast-table, the following brief note from our adjutant:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“My Dear Lorrequer—The Colonel has received orders to despatch two +companies to some remote part of the county Clare; as you have ‘done the +state some service,’ you are selected for the beautiful town of Kilrush, +where, to use the eulogistic language of the geography books, ‘there is a +good harbour, and a market plentifully supplied with fish.’ I have just +heard of the kind intention in store for you, and lose no time in letting you +know.<br/> + “God give you a good deliverance from the ‘garcons +lances,’ as the Moniteur calls the Whiteboys, and believe me ever +your’s, Charles Curzon.” +</p> + +<p> +I had scarcely twice read over the adjutant’s epistle, when I received an +official notification from the Colonel, directing me to proceed to Kilrush, +then and there to afford all aid and assistance in suppressing illicit +distillation, when called on for that purpose; and other similar duties too +agreeable to recapitulate. Alas! Alas! Othello’s occupation: was indeed +gone! The next morning at sun-rise saw me on my march, with what appearance of +gaiety I could muster, but in reality very much chopfallen at my banishment, +and invoking sundry things upon the devoted head of the Colonel, which he would +by no means consider as “blessings.” +</p> + +<p> +How short-sighted are we mortals, whether enjoying all the pump and state of +royalty, or marching like myself at the head of a company of his +Majesty’s 4—th. +</p> + +<p> +Little, indeed, did I anticipate that the Siberia to which I fancied I was +condemned should turn out the happiest quarters my fate ever threw me into. But +this, including as it does, one of the most important events of my life, I +reserve for another chapter.— +</p> + +<p> +“What is that place called, Sergeant?”—“Bunratty +Castle, sir,” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do we breakfast?”—“At Clare Island, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“March away, boys!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ch2" id="ch2"></a> CHAPTER II.<br/> +DETACHMENT DUTY—THE BURTON ARMS—CALLONBY.</h2> + +<p> +For a week after my arrival at Kilrush, my life was one of the most dreary +monotony. The rain, which had begun to fall as I left Limerick, continued to +descend in torrents, and I found myself a close prisoner in the sanded parlour +of “mine inn.” At no time would such “durance vile” +have been agreeable; but now, when I contrasted it with all I had left behind +at head quarters, it was absolutely maddening. The pleasant lounge in the +morning, the social mess, and the agreeable evening party, were all exchanged +for a short promenade of fourteen feet in one direction, and twelve in the +other, such being the accurate measurement of my “salle a manger.” +A chicken, with legs as blue as a Highlander’s in winter, for my dinner; +and the hours that all Christian mankind were devoting to pleasant intercourse, +and agreeable chit-chat, spent in beating that dead-march to time, “the +Devil’s Tattoo,” upon my ricketty table, and forming, between +whiles, sundry valorous resolutions to reform my life, and “eschew sack +and loose company.” +</p> + +<p> +My front-window looked out upon a long, straggling, ill-paved street, with its +due proportion of mud-heaps, and duck pools; the houses on either side were, +for the most part, dingy-looking edifices, with half-doors, and such pretension +to being shops as a quart of meal, or salt, displayed in the window, confers; +or sometimes two tobacco-pipes, placed “saltier-wise,” would appear +the only vendible article in the establishment. A more wretched, gloomy-looking +picture of woe-begone poverty, I never beheld. +</p> + +<p> +If I turned for consolation to the back of the house, my eyes fell upon the +dirty yard of a dirty inn; the half-thatched cow-shed, where two famished +animals mourned their hard fate,—“chewing the cud of sweet and +bitter fancy;” the chaise, the yellow post-chaise, once the pride and +glory of the establishment, now stood reduced from its wheels, and +ignominiously degraded to a hen-house; on the grass-grown roof a cock had taken +his stand, with an air of protective patronage to the feathered inhabitants +beneath: +</p> <p class="poem"> +“To what base uses must we come at last.” <br/> +</p> <p class="noindent"> +That chaise, which once had conveyed the blooming bride, all blushes and +tenderness, and the happy groom, on their honeymoon visit to Ballybunion and +its romantic caves, or to the gigantic cliffs and sea-girt shores of +Moher—or with more steady pace and becoming gravity had borne along the +“going judge of assize,”—was now become a lying-in hospital +for fowl, and a nursery for chickens. Fallen as I was myself from my high +estate, it afforded me a species of malicious satisfaction to contemplate these +sad reverses of fortune; and I verily believe—for on such slight +foundation our greatest resolves are built—that if the rain had continued +a week longer, I should have become a misanthropist for life. I made many +inquiries from my landlady as to the society of the place, but the answers I +received only led to greater despondence. My predecessor here, it seemed, had +been an officer of a veteran battalion, with a wife, and that amount of +children which is algebraically expressed by an X (meaning an unknown +quantity). He, good man, in his two years’ sojourn here, had been much +more solicitous about his own affairs, than making acquaintance with his +neighbours; and at last, the few persons who had been in the habit of calling +on “the officer,” gave up the practice; and as there were no young +ladies to refresh Pa’s memory on the matter, they soon forgot completely +that such a person existed—and to this happy oblivion I, Harry Lorrequer, +succeeded, and was thus left without benefit of clergy to the tender mercies of +Mrs. Healy of the Burton arms. +</p> + +<p> +As during the inundation which deluged the whole country around I was unable to +stir from the house, I enjoyed abundant opportunity of cultivating the +acquaintance of my hostess, and it is but fair that my reader, who has +journeyed so far with me, should have an introduction. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Healy, the sole proprietor of the “Burton Arms,” was of some +five and fifty—“or by’r lady,” three score years, of a +rubicund and hale complexion; and though her short neck and corpulent figure +might have set her down as “doubly hazardous,” she looked a good +life for many years to come. In height and breadth she most nearly resembled a +sugar-hogshead, whose rolling, pitching motion, when trundled along on edge, +she emulated in her gait. To the ungainliness of her figure her mode of +dressing not a little contributed. She usually wore a thick linsey-wolsey gown, +with enormous pockets on either side, and, like Nora Creina’s, it +certainly inflicted no undue restrictions upon her charms, but left +</p> <p class="poem"> +“Every beauty free,<br/> +To sink or swell as heaven pleases.”<br/> +</p> <p class="noindent"> +Her feet—ye gods! Such feet—were apparelled in listing slippers, +over which the upholstery of her ancles descended, and completely relieved the +mind of the spectator as to the superincumbent weight being disproportioned to +the support; I remember well my first impression on seeing those feet and +ancles reposing upon a straw footstool, while she took her afternoon dose, and +I wondered within myself if elephants were liable to the gout. There are few +countenances in the world, that if wishing to convey an idea of, we cannot +refer to some well-known standard; and thus nothing is more common than to hear +comparisons with “Vulcan—Venus—Nicodemus,” and the +like; but in the present case, I am totally at a loss for any thing resembling +the face of the worth Mrs. Healy, except it be, perhaps, that most ancient and +sour visage we used to see upon old circular iron rappers formerly—they +make none of them now—the only difference being, that Mrs. Healy’s +nose had no ring through it; I am almost tempted to add, “more’s +the pity.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was she in “the flesh;” would that I could say, she was more +fascinating in the “spirit!” but alas, truth, from which I never +may depart in these “my confessions,” constrains me to acknowledge +the reverse. Most persons in this miserable world of ours, have some +prevailing, predominating characteristic, which usually gives the tone and +colour to all their thoughts and actions, forming what we denominate +temperament; this we see actuating them, now more, now less; but rarely, +however, is this great spring of action without its moments of repose. Not so +with her of whom I have been speaking. She had but one passion—but, like +Aaron’s rod, it had a most consuming tendency—and that was to +scold, and abuse, all whom hard fate had brought within the unfortunate limits +of her tyranny. The English language, comprehensive as it is, afforded not +epithets strong enough for her wrath, and she sought among the more classic +beauties of her native Irish, such additional ones as served her need, and with +this holy alliance of tongues, she had been for years long, the dread and +terror of the entire village. +</p> <p class="poem"> +“The dawning of morn, the day-light sinking,” +</p> <p class="noindent"> +ay, and even the “night’s dull hours,” it was said, too, +found her labouring in her congenial occupation; and while thus she continued +to “scold and grow fat,” her inn, once a popular and frequented +one, became gradually less and less frequented, and the dragon of the +Rhine-fells did not more effectually lay waste the territory about him, than +did the evil influence of her tongue spread desolation and ruin around her. Her +inn, at the time of my visit, had not been troubled with even a passing +traveller for many months; and, indeed, if I had any, even the least +foreknowledge of the character of my hostess, its privacy should have still +remained uninvaded for some time longer. +</p> + +<p> +I had not been many hours installed, when I got a specimen of her powers; and +before the first week was over, so constant and unremitting were her labours in +this way, that I have upon the occasion of a slight lull in the storm, +occasioned by her falling asleep, actually left my room to inquire if anything +had gone wrong, in the same was as the miller is said to awake, if the mill +stops. I trust I have said enough, to move the reader’s pity and +compassion for my situation—one more miserable it is difficult to +conceive. It may be though that much might be done by management, and that a +slight exercise of the favourite Whig plan of concilliation, might avail. +Nothing of the kind. She was proof against all such arts; and what was still +worse, there was no subject, no possible circumstance, no matter, past, +present, or to come, that she could not wind by her diabolical ingenuity, into +some cause of offence; and then came the quick transition to instant +punishment. Thus, my apparently harmless inquiry as to the society of the +neighbourhood, suggested to her—a wish on my part to make +acquaintance—therefore to dine out—therefore not to dine at +home—consequently to escape paying half-a-crown and devouring a +chicken—therefore to defraud her, and behave, as she would herself +observe, “like a beggarly scullion, with his four shillings a day, +setting up for a gentleman,” &c. +</p> + +<p> +By a quiet and Job-like endurance of all manner of taunting suspicions, and +unmerited sarcasms, to which I daily became more reconciled, I absolutely rose +into something like favour; and before the first month of my banishment +expired, had got the length of an invitation to tea, in her own +snuggery—an honour never known to be bestowed on any before, with the +exception of Father Malachi Brennan, her ghostly adviser; and even he, it is +said, never ventured on such an approximation to intimacy, until he was, in +Kilrush phrase, “half screwed,” thereby meaning more than half +tipsy. From time to time thus, I learned from my hostess such particulars of +the country and its inhabitants as I was desirous of hearing; and among other +matters, she gave me an account of the great landed proprietor himself, Lord +Callonby, who was daily expected at his seat, within some miles of Kilrush, at +the same time assuring me that I need not be looking so “pleased and +curling out my whiskers;” “that they’d never take the trouble +of asking even the name of me.” This, though neither very courteous, nor +altogether flattering to listen to, was no more than I had already learned from +some brother officers who knew this quarter, and who informed me that the Earl +of Callonby, though only visiting his Irish estates every three or four years, +never took the slightest notice of any of the military in his neighbourhood; +nor, indeed did he mix with the country gentry, confining himself to his own +family, or the guests, who usually accompanied him from England, and remained +during his few weeks’ stay. My impression of his lordship was therefore +not calculated to cheer my solitude by any prospect of his rendering it +lighter. +</p> + +<p> +The Earl’s family consisted of her ladyship, an only son, nearly of age, +and two daughters; the eldest, Lady Jane, had the reputation of being extremely +beautiful; and I remembered when she came out in London, only the year before, +hearing nothing but praises of the grace and elegance of her manner, united to +the most classic beauty of her face and figure. The second daughter was some +years younger, and said to be also very handsome; but as yet she had not been +brought into society. Of the son, Lord Kilkee, I only heard that he had been a +very gay fellow at Oxford, where he was much liked, and although not +particularly studious, had given evidence of talent. +</p> + +<p> +Such were the few particulars I obtained of my neighbours, and thus little did +I know of those who were so soon to exercise a most important influence upon my +future life. +</p> + +<p> +After some weeks’ close confinement, which, judging from my feelings +alone, I should have counted as many years, I eagerly seized the opportunity of +the first glimpse of sunshine to make a short excursion along the coast; I +started early in the morning, and after a long stroll along the bold headlands +of Kilkee, was returning late in the evening to my lodgings. My path lay across +a wild, bleak moor, dotted with low clumps of furze, and not presenting on any +side the least trace of habitation. In wading through the tangled bushes, my +dog “Mouche” started a hare; and after a run “sharp, short, +and decisive,” killed it at the bottom of a little glen some hundred +yards off. +</p> + +<p> +I was just patting my dog, and examining the prize, when I heard a crackling +among the low bushes near me; and on looking up, perceived, about twenty paces +distant, a short, thick-set man, whose fustian jacket and leathern gaiters at +once pronounced him the gamekeeper; he stood leaning upon his gun, quietly +awaiting, as it seemed, for any movement on my part, before he interfered. With +one glance I detected how matters stood, and immediately adopting my usual +policy of “taking the bull by the horns,” called out, in a tone of +very sufficient authority, +</p> + +<p> +“I say, my man, are you his lordship’s gamekeeper?” +</p> + +<p> +Taking off his hat, the man approached me, and very respectfully informed me +that he was. +</p> + +<p> +“Well then,” said I, “present this hare to his lordship with +my respects; here is my card, and say I shall be most happy to wait on him in +the morning, and explain the circumstance.” +</p> + +<p> +The man took the card, and seemed for some moments undecided how to act; he +seemed to think that probably he might be ill-treating a friend of his +lordship’s if he refused; and on the other hand might be merely +“jockeyed” by some bold-faced poacher. Meanwhile I whistled my dog +close up, and humming an air, with great appearance of indifference, stepped +out homeward. By this piece of presence of mind I saved poor +“Mouche;” for I saw at a glance, that, with true gamekeeper’s +law, he had been destined to death the moment he had committed the offence. +</p> + +<p> +The following morning, as I sat at breakfast, meditating upon the events of the +preceding day, and not exactly determined how to act, whether to write to his +lordship explaining how the matter occurred, or call personally, a loud +rattling on the pavement drew me to the window. As the house stood at the end +of a street, I could not see in the direction the noise came; but as I +listened, a very handsome tandem turned the corner of the narrow street, and +came along towards the hotel at a long, sling trot; the horses were dark +chestnuts, well matched, and shewing a deal of blood. The carriage was a dark +drab, with black wheels; the harness all of the same colour. The whole +turn-out—and I was an amateur of that sort of thing—was perfect; +the driver, for I come to him last, as he was the last I looked at, was a +fashionable looking young fellow, plainly, but knowingly, dressed, and +evidently handling the “ribbon,” like an experienced whip. +</p> + +<p> +After bringing his nags up to the inn door in very pretty style, he gave the +reins to his servant, and got down. Before I was well aware of it, the door of +my room opened, and the gentleman entered with a certain easy air of good +breeding, and saying, +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lorrequer, I presume—” introduced himself as Lord +Kilkee. +</p> + +<p> +I immediately opened the conversation by an apology for my dog’s +misconduct on the day before, and assured his lordship that I knew the value of +a hare in a hunting country, and was really sorry for the circumstance. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I must say,” replied his lordship, “Mr. Lorrequer is +the only person who regrets the matter; for had it not been for this, it is +more than probable we should never have known we were so near neighbours; in +fact, nothing could equal our amazement at hearing you were playing the +‘Solitaire’ down here. You must have found it dreadfully heavy, +‘and have thought us downright savages.’ But then I must explain to +you, that my father has made some ‘rule absolute’ about visiting +when down here. And though I know you’ll not consider it a compliment, +yet I can assure you there is not another man I know of he would pay attention +to, but yourself. He made two efforts to get here this morning, but the gout +‘would not be denied,’ and so he deputed a most inferior +‘diplomate;’ and now will you let me return with some character +from my first mission, and inform my friends that you will dine with us to-day +at seven—a mere family party; but make your arrangements to stop all +night and to-morrow: we shall find some work for my friend there on the hearth; +what do you call him, Mr. Lorrequer?” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Mouche’—come here, ‘Mouche.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah ‘Mouche,’ come here, my fine fellow—a splendid dog, +indeed; very tall for a thorough-bred; and now you’ll not forget, seven, +‘temps militaire,’ and so, sans adieu.” +</p> + +<p> +And with these words his lordship shook me heartily by the hand; and before two +minutes had elapsed, had wrapped his box-coat once more across him, and was +round the corner. +</p> + +<p> +I looked for a few moments on the again silent street, and was almost tempted +to believe I was in a dream, so rapidly had the preceding moments passed over; +and so surprised was I to find that the proud Earl of Callonby, who never did +the “civil thing” any where, should think proper to pay attention +to a poor sub in a marching regiment, whose only claim on his acquaintance was +the suspicion of poaching on his manor. I repeated over and over all his +lordship’s most polite speeches, trying to solve the mystery of them; but +in vain: a thousand explanations occurred, but none of them I felt at all +satisfactory; that there was some mystery somewhere, I had no doubt; for I +remarked all through that Lord Kilkee laid some stress upon my identity, and +even seemed surprised at <i>my</i> being in such banishment. “Oh,” +thought I at last, “his lordship is about to get up private theatricals, +and has seen my Captain Absolute, or perhaps my Hamlet”—I could not +say “Othello” even to myself—“and is anxious to get +‘such unrivalled talent’ even ‘for one night +only.’” +</p> + +<p> +After many guesses this seemed the nearest I could think of; and by the time I +had finished my dressing for dinner, it was quite clear to me I had solved all +the secret of his lordship’s attentions. +</p> + +<p> +The road to “Callonby” was beautiful beyond any thing I had ever +seen in Ireland. For upwards of two miles it led along the margin of the lofty +cliffs of Moher, now jutting out into bold promontories, and again retreating, +and forming small bays and mimic harbours, into which the heavy swell of the +broad Atlantic was rolling its deep blue tide. The evening was perfectly calm, +and at a little distance from the shore the surface of the sea was without a +ripple. The only sound breaking the solemn stillness of the hour, was the heavy +plash of the waves, as in minute peals they rolled in upon the pebbly beach, +and brought back with them at each retreat, some of the larger and smoother +stones, whose noise, as they fell back into old ocean’s bed, mingled with +the din of the breaking surf. In one of the many little bays I passed, lay +three or four fishing smacks. The sails were drying, and flapped lazily against +the mast. I could see the figures of the men as they passed backwards and +forwards upon the decks, and although the height was nearly eight hundred feet, +could hear their voices quite distinctly. Upon the golden strand, which was +still marked with a deeper tint, where the tide had washed, stood a little +white cottage of some fisherman—at least, so the net before the door +bespoke it. Around it, stood some children, whose merry voices and laughing +tones sometimes reached me where I was standing. I could not but think, as I +looked down from my lofty eyrie, upon that little group of boats, and that lone +hut, how much of the “world” to the humble dweller beneath, lay in +that secluded and narrow bay. There, the deep sea, where their days were passed +in “storm or sunshine,”—there, the humble home, where at +night they rested, and around whose hearth lay all their cares and all their +joys. How far, how very far removed from the busy haunts of men, and all the +struggles and contentions of the ambitious world; and yet, how short-sighted to +suppose that even they had not their griefs and sorrows, and that their humble +lot was devoid of the inheritance of those woes, which all are heirs to. +</p> + +<p> +I turned reluctantly, from the sea-shore to enter the gate of the park, and my +path in a few moments was as completely screened from all prospect of the sea, +as though it had lain miles inland. An avenue of tall and ancient lime trees, +so dense in their shadows as nearly to conceal the road beneath, led for above +a mile through a beautiful lawn, whose surface, gently undulating, and studded +with young clumps, was dotted over with sheep. At length, descending by a very +steep road, I reached a beautiful little stream, over which a rustic bridge was +thrown. As I looked down upon the rippling stream beneath, on the surface of +which the dusky evening flies were dipping, I made a resolve, if I prospered in +his lordship’s good graces, to devote a day to the “angle” +there, before I left the country. It was now growing late, and remember Lord +Kilkee’s intimation of “sharp seven,” I threw my reins over +my cob, “Sir Roger’s” neck, (for I had hitherto been +walking,) and cantered up the steep hill before me. When I reached the top, I +found myself upon a broad table land, encircled by old and well-grown timber, +and at a distance, most tastefully half concealed by ornamental planting, I +could catch some glimpse of Callonby. Before, however, I had time to look about +me, I heard the tramp of horses’ feet behind, and in another moment two +ladies dashed up the steep behind, and came towards me, at a smart gallop, +followed by a groom, who, neither himself nor his horse, seemed to relish the +pace of his fair mistresses. I moved off the road into the grass to permit them +to pass; but no sooner had they got abreast of me, than Sir Roger, anxious for +a fair start, flung up both heels at once, pricked up his ears, and with a +plunge that very nearly threw me from the saddle, set off at top speed. My +first thought was for the ladies beside me, and, to my utter horror, I now saw +them coming along in full gallop; their horses had got off the road, and were, +to my thinking, become quite unmanageable. I endeavoured to pull up, but all in +vain. Sir Roger had got the bit between his teeth, a favourite trick of his, +and I was perfectly powerless to hold him by this time, they being mounted on +thoroughbreds, got a full neck before me, and the pace was now tremendous, on +we all came, each horse at his utmost stretch; they were evidently gaining from +the better stride of their cattle, and will it be believed, or shall I venture +to acknowledge it in these my confessions, that I, who a moment before, would +have given my best chance of promotion, to be able to pull in my horse, would +now have “pledged my dukedom” to be able to give Sir Roger one cut +of the whip unobserved. I leave it to the wise to decipher the rationale, but +such is the fact. It was complete steeple-chasing, and my blood was up. +</p> + +<p> +On we came, and I now perceived that about two hundred yards before me stood an +iron gate and piers, without any hedge or wall on either side; before I could +conjecture the meaning of so strange a thing in the midst of a large lawn, I +saw the foremost horse, now two or three lengths before the other, still in +advance of me, take two or three short strides, and fly about eight feet over a +sunk fence—the second followed in the same style, the riders sitting as +steadily as in the gallop. It was now my turn, and I confess, as I neared the +dyke, I heartily wished myself well over it, for the very possibility of a +“mistake” was maddening. Sir Roger came on at a slapping pace, and +when within two yards of the brink, rose to it, and cleared it like a deer. By +the time I had accomplished this feat, not the less to my satisfaction, that +both ladies had turned in the saddles to watch me, they were already far in +advance; they held on still at the same pace, round a small copse which +concealed them an instant from my view, and which, when I passed, I perceived +that they had just reached the hall door, and were dismounting. +</p> + +<p> +On the steps stood a tall, elderly-looking, gentleman-like person, who I +rightly conjectured was his lordship. I heard him laughing heartily as I came +up. I at last succeeded in getting Sir Roger to a canter, and when about twenty +yards from where the group were standing, sprung off, and hastened up to make +my apologies as I best might, for my unfortunate runaway. I was fortunately +spared this awkwardness of an explanation, for his lordship, approaching me +with his hand extended, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lorrequer is most welcome at Callonby. I cannot be mistaken, I am +sure—I have the pleasure of addressing the nephew of my old friend, Sir +Guy Lorrequer of Elton. I am indeed most happy to see you, and not the less so, +that you are safe and sound, which, five minutes since, I assure you I had my +fears for—” +</p> + +<p> +Before I could assure his lordship that my fears were all for my competitors in +the race—for such in reality they were—he introduced me to the two +ladies, who were still standing beside him—“Lady Jane Callonby; Mr. +Lorrequer; Lady Catherine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which of you, young ladies, may I ask, planned this escapade, for I see +by your looks, it was no accident?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think, papa,” said Lady Jane, “you must question Mr. +Lorrequer on that head; he certainly started first.” +</p> + +<p> +“I confess, indeed,” said I, “such was the case.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you must confess, too, you were distanced,” said Lady Jane, +at the same time, most terribly provoked, to be quizzed on such a matter; that +I, a steeple-chase horseman of the first water, should be twitted by a couple +of young ladies, on the score of a most manly exercise. “But come,” +said his lordship, “the first bell has rung long since, and I am longing +to ask Mr. Lorrequer all about my old college friend of forty years ago. So, +ladies, hasten your toilet, I beseech you.” +</p> + +<p> +With these words, his lordship, taking my arm, led me into the drawing-room, +where we had not been many minutes till we were joined by her ladyship, a tall +stately handsome woman, of a certain age; resolutely bent upon being both young +and beautiful, in spite of time and wrinkles; her reception of me, though not +possessing the frankness of his lordship, was still very polite, and intended +to be even gracious. I now found by the reiterated inquiries for my old uncle, +Sir Guy, that he it was, and not Hamlet, to whom I owed my present notice, and +I must include it among my confessions, that it was about the first advantage I +ever derived from the relationship. After half an hour’s agreeable +chatting, the ladies entered, and then I had time to remark the extreme beauty +of their appearance; they were both wonderfully like, and except that Lady Jane +was taller and more womanly, it would have been almost impossible to +discriminate between them. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Jane Callonby was then about twenty years of age, rather above the middle +size, and slightly disposed towards embonpoint; her eye was of the deepest and +most liquid blue, and rendered apparently darker, by long lashes of the +blackest jet—for such was the colour of her hair; her nose slightly, but +slightly, deviated from the straightness of the Greek, and her upper lip was +faultless, as were her mouth and chin; the whole lower part of the face, from +the perfect “chiselling,” and from the character of her head, had +certainly a great air of hauteur, but the extreme melting softness of her eyes +took from this, and when she spoke, there was a quiet earnestness in her mild +and musical voice, that disarmed you at once of connecting the idea of self +with the speaker; the word “fascinating,” more than any other I +know of, conveys the effect of her appearance, and to produce it, she had more +than any other woman I ever met, that wonderful gift, the “l’art de +plaire.” +</p> + +<p> +I was roused from my perhaps too earnest, because unconscious gaze, at the +lovely figure before me, by his Lordship saying, “Mr. Lorrequer, her +Ladyship is waiting for you.” I accordingly bowed, and, offering my arm, +led her into the dinner-room. And here I draw rein for the present, reserving +for my next chapter—My Adventure at Callonby. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ch3" id="ch3"></a> CHAPTER III.<br/> +LIFE AT CALLONBY—LOVE-MAKING—MISS O’DOWD’S +ADVENTURE.</h2> + +<p> +My first evening at Callonby passed off as nearly all first evenings do every +where. His lordship was most agreeable, talked much of my uncle, Sir Guy, whose +fag he had been at Eton half a century before, promised me some capital +shooting in his preserves, discussed the state of politics; and, as the second +decanter of port “waned apace,” grew wondrous confidential, and +told me of his intention to start his son for the county at the next general +election, such being the object which had now conferred the honour of his +presence on his Irish estates. +</p> + +<p> +Her ladyship was most condescendingly civil, vouchsafed much tender +commiseration for my “exile,” as she termed my quarters in Kilrush; +wondered how <i>I</i> could possibly exist in a marching regiment, (who had +never been in the cavalry in my life!) spoke quite feelingly on my kindness in +joining their stupid family party, for they were living, to use her own phrase, +“like hermits;” and wound up all by a playful assurance that as she +perceived, from all my answers, that I was bent on preserving a strict +incognito, she would tell no tales about me on her return to +“Town.” Now, it may readily be believed, that all this, and many +more of her ladyship’s allusions, were a “Chaldee manuscript” +to me; that she knew certain facts of my family and relations, was certain; but +that she had interwoven in the humble web of my history, a very pretty +embroidery of fiction was equally so; and while she thus ran on, with +innumerable allusions to Lady Marys and Lord Johns, who she pretended to +suppose were dying to hear from me, I could not help muttering to myself with +good Christopher Sly, “And all this be true—then Lord be thanked +for my good amends;” for up to that moment I was an ungrateful man for +all this high and noble solicitude. One dark doubt shot for an instant across +my brain. Maybe her ladyship had “registered a vow” never to +syllable a name unchronicled by Debrett, or was actually only mystifying me for +mere amusement. A minute’s consideration dispelled this fear; for I found +myself treated “en Seigneur” by the whole family. As for the +daughters of the house, nothing could possibly be more engaging than their +manner. The eldest, Lady Jane, was pleased from my near relationship to her +father’s oldest friend to receive me, “from the first,” on +the most friendly footing; while, with the younger, Lady Catherine, from her +being less ‘maniere’ than her sister, my progress was even greater; +and thus, before we separated for the night, I contrived to “take up my +position” in such a fashion, as to be already looked upon as one of the +family party, to which object, Lord and indeed Lady Callonby seemed most +willing to contribute, and made me promise to spend the entire of the following +day at Callonby, and as many of the succeeding ones as my military duties would +permit. +</p> + +<p> +As his lordship was wishing me “good night” at the door of the +drawing-room, he said, in a half whisper, +</p> + +<p> +“We were ignorant yesterday, Mr. Lorrequer, how soon we should have had +the pleasure of seeing you here; and you are therefore condemned to a small +room off the library, it being the only one we can insure you as being well +aired. I must therefore apprize you that you are not to be shocked at finding +yourself surrounded by every member of my family, hung up in frames around you. +But as the room is usually my own snuggery, I have resigned it without any +alteration whatever.” +</p> + +<p> +The apartment for which his lordship had so strongly apologized, stood in very +pleasing contrast to my late one in Kilrush. The soft Persian carpet, on which +one’s feet sank to the very ankles; the brightly polished dogs, upon +which a blazing wood fire burned; the well upholstered fauteuils which seemed +to invite sleep without the trouble of lying down for it; and last of all, the +ample and luxurious bed, upon whose rich purple hangings the ruddy glare of the +fire threw a most mellow light, was all a pleasing exchange for the +“garniture” of the “Hotel Healy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certes, Harry Lorrequer,” said I, as I threw myself upon a small +ottoman before the fire in all the slippered ease, and abandon of a man who has +changed a dress-coat for a morning-gown; “Certes, thou art destined for +great things; even here, where fate had seemed ‘to do its worst’ to +thee, a little paradise opens, and what, to ordinary mortals had proved but a +‘flat, stale, and most unprofitable’ quarter, presents to thee all +the accumulated delight of a hospitable mansion, a kind, almost friendly, host, +a condescending Madame Mere, and daughters too! Ah ye Gods! But what is +this;” and here, for the first time, lifting up my eyes, I perceived a +beautiful water-colour drawing in the style of “Chalon,” which was +placed above the chimney-piece. I rose at once, and taking a candle, proceeded +to examine it more minutely. It was a portrait of Lady Jane, a full-length too, +and wonderfully like; there was more complexion, and perhaps more roundness in +the figure than her present appearance would justify; but if any thing was +gained in brilliancy, it was certainly lost in point of expression; and I +infinitely preferred her pale, but beautifully fair countenance, to the rosy +cheek of the picture; the figure was faultless; the same easy grace, the result +of perfect symmetry and refinement together, which only one in a thousand of +even handsome girls possess, was pourtrayed to the life. The more I looked, the +more I felt charmed with it. Never had I seen any thing so truly characteristic +as this sketch, for it was scarcely more. It was after nearly an hour’s +quiet contemplation, that I began to remember the lateness of the night; an +hour, in which my thoughts had rambled from the lovely object before me, to +wonder at the situation in which I found myself placed; for there was so much +of “empressement” towards me, in the manner of every member of the +family, coupled with certain mistakes as to my habits and acquaintances, as +left me perfectly unable to unravel the mystery which so evidently surrounded +me. “Perhaps,” thought I, “Sir Guy has written in my behalf +to his lordship. Oh, he would never do any thing half so civil. Well, to be +sure, I shall astonish them at head quarters; they’ll not believe this. I +wonder if Lady Jane saw my ‘Hamlet;’ for they landed in Cork from +Bristol about that time. She is indeed a most beautiful girl. I wish I were a +marquis, if it were only for her sake. Well, my Lord Callonby, you may be a +very wise man in the House of Lords; but, I would just ask, is it exactly +prudent to introduce into your family on terms of such perfect intimacy, a +young, fascinating, well-looking fellow, of four-and-twenty, albeit only a +subaltern, with two such daughters as you have? Peut etre! One thing is +certain—<i>I</i> have no cause of complaint; and so, good night, Lady +Jane”—and with those words I fell asleep, to dream of the deepest +blue eyes, and the most melting tones that ever reduced a poor lieutenant in a +marching regiment to curse his fate, that he could not call the Commander of +the Forces his father. +</p> + +<p> +When I descended to the breakfast-room, I found the whole family assembled in a +group around Lord Kilkee, who had just returned from a distant part of the +county, where he had been canvassing the electors, and spouting patriotism the +day before. He was giving an account of his progress with much spirit and +humour as I entered, but, on seeing me, immediately came forward, and shook +hands with me like an old acquaintance. By Lord Callonby and the ladies I was +welcomed also with much courtesy and kindness, and some slight badinage passed +upon my sleeping, in what Lord Kilkee called the “Picture Gallery,” +which, for all I knew to the contrary, contained but one fair portrait. I am +not a believer in Mesmer; but certainly there must have been some influence at +work—very like what we hear of “magnetism”—for before +the breakfast was concluded, there seemed at once to spring up a perfect +understanding between this family and myself, which made me feel as much +‘chez moi’, as I had ever done in my life; and from that hour I may +date an intimacy which every succeeding day but served to increase. +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast Lord Callonby consigned me to the guidance of his son, and we +sallied forth to deal destruction amongst the pheasants, with which the +preserves were stocked; and here I may observe, ‘en passant’, that +with the single exception of fox-hunting, which was ever a passion with me, I +never could understand that inveterate pursuit of game to which some men devote +themselves—thus, grouse-shooting, and its attendant pleasures, of +stumping over a boggy mountain from day-light till dark, never had much +attraction for me; and, as to the delights of widgeon and wild-duck shooting, +when purchased by sitting up all night in a barrel, with your eye to the bung, +I’ll none of it—no, no! Give me shooting or angling merely as a +divertimento, a pleasant interlude between breakfast and luncheon-time, when, +consigning your Manton to a corner, and the game keeper “to the +dogs,” you once more humanize your costume to take a canter with the +daughters of the house; or, if the day look loweringly, a match of billiards +with the men. +</p> + +<p> +I have ever found that the happiest portions of existence are the most +difficult to chronicle. We may—nay, we must, impart our miseries and +annoyances to our many “dear friends,” whose forte is sympathy or +consolation—and all men are eloquent on the subject of their woes; not so +with their joys: some have a miser-like pleasure in hoarding them up for their +own private gratification; others—and they are prudent—feel that +the narrative is scarcely agreeable even to their best friends; and a few, of +whom I confess myself one, are content to be happy without knowing why, and to +have pleasant souvenirs, without being able to explain them. +</p> + +<p> +Such must be my apology for not more minutely entering upon an account of my +life at Callonby. A fortnight had now seen me ‘enfonce’, the daily +companion of two beautiful girls in all their walks and rides, through a +romantic, unfrequented country, seeing but little of the other members of the +family; the gentlemen being entirely occupied by their election tactics, and +Lady Callonby being a late riser, seldom appeared before the dinner hour. There +was not a cliff upon the bold and rocky coast we did not climb, not a cave upon +the pebbly beach unvisited; sometimes my fair companions would bring a volume +of Metastasio down to the little river where I used to angle; and the +“gentle craft” was often abandoned for the heart-thrilling verses +of that delightful poet. Yes, many years have passed over, and these scenes are +still as fresh in my memory as though they had been of yesterday. In my memory, +I say, as for thee +</p> <p class="poem"> +“Qui sa si te<br/> +Ti sovrerai di me.” +</p> + +<p> +At the end of three weeks the house became full of company, from the garret to +the cellar. Country gentlemen and their wives and daughters came pouring in, on +every species of conveyance known since the flood; family coaches, which, but +for their yellow panels, might have been mistaken for hearses, and high +barouches, the “entree” to which was accomplished by a step-ladder, +followed each other in what appeared a never-ending succession; and here I may +note an instance of the anomalous character of the conveyances, from an +incident to which I was a witness at the time. +</p> + +<p> +Among the visitors on the second day came a maiden lady from the neighbourhood +of Ennistimon, Miss Elizabeth O’Dowd, the last of a very old and highly +respectable family in the county, and whose extensive property, thickly studded +with freeholders, was a strong reason for her being paid every attention in +Lord Callonby’s power to bestow; Miss Betty O’Dowd—for so she +was generally styled—was the very personification of an old maid; stiff +as a ramrod, and so rigid in observance of the proprieties of female conduct, +that in the estimation of the Clare gentry, Diana was a hoyden compared to her. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Betty lived, as I have said, near Ennistimon, and the road from thence to +Callonby at the time I speak of—it was before Mr. Nimmo—was as like +the bed of a mountain torrent as a respectable highway; there were holes that +would have made a grave for any maiden lady within fifty miles; and rocks +thickly scattered, enough to prove fatal to the strongest wheels that ever +issued from “Hutton’s.” Miss O’Dowd knew this well; she +had upon one occasion been upset in travelling it—and a slate-coloured +silk dress bore the dye of every species of mud and mire to be found there, for +many a year after, to remind her of her misfortune, and keep open the wound of +her sorrow. When, therefore, the invitation to Callonby arrived, a grave +council of war was summoned, to deliberate upon the mode of transit, for the +honour could not be declined, “coute qui coute.” The chariot was +out of the question; Nicholas declared it would never reach the “Moraan +Beg,” as the first precipice was called; the inside car was long since +pronounced unfit for hazardous enterprise; and the only resource left, was what +is called in Hibernian parlance, a “low-backed car,” that is, a car +without any back whatever; it being neither more nor less than the common +agricultural conveyance of the country, upon which, a feather bed being laid, +the farmers’ wives and daughters are generally conveyed to fairs, wakes, +and stations, &c. Putting her dignity, if not in her pocket, at least +wherever it could be most easily accommodated, Miss O’Dowd placed her +fair self, in all the plenitude of her charms and the grandeur of a “bran +new green silk,” a “little off the grass, and on the bottle,” +(I love to be particular,) upon this humble voiture, and set out on her way, if +not “rejoicing,” at least consoled by Nicholas, that “It +‘id be black dark when they reached the house, and the devil a one +‘id be the wiser than if she came in a coach and four.” Nicholas +was right; it was perfectly dark on their arrival at Callonby, and Miss +O’Dowd having dismounted, and shook her plumage, a little crumpled by her +half-recumbent position for eight miles, appeared in the drawing-room, to +receive the most courteous attentions from Lady Callonby, and from his lordship +the most flattering speeches for her kindness in risking herself and bringing +her horses on such a dreadful road, and assured her of his getting a +presentment the very next assizes to repair it; “For we intend, Miss +O’Dowd,” said he, “to be most troublesome neighbours to you +in future.” +</p> + +<p> +The evening passed off most happily. Miss O’Dowd was delighted with her +hosts, whose character she resolved to maintain in spite of their reputation +for pride and haughtiness. Lady Jane sang an Irish melody for her, Lady +Callonby gave her slips of a rose geranium she got from the Princess Augusta, +and Lord Kilkee won her heart by the performance of that most graceful step +‘yclept “cover the buckle” in an Irish jig. But, alas! how +short-lived is human bliss, for while this estimable lady revelled in the full +enjoyment of the hour, the sword of Damocles hung suspended above her head; in +plain English, she had, on arriving at Callonby, to prevent any unnecessary +scrutiny into the nature of her conveyance, ordered Nicholas to be at the door +punctually at eleven; and then to take an opportunity of quietly slipping open +the drawing-room door, and giving her an intimation of it, that she might take +her leave at once. Nicholas was up to time, and having disposed the conveyance +under the shadow of the porch, made his way to the door of the drawing-room +unseen and unobserved. He opened it gently and noiselessly, merely sufficient +to take a survey of the apartment, in which, from the glare of the lights, and +the busy hum of voices, he was so bewildered that it was some minutes before he +recognized his mistress. At last he perceived her; she was seated at a +card-table, playing whist with Lord Callonby for her partner. Who the other +players were, he knew not. A proud man was Nicholas, as he saw his mistress +thus placed, actually sitting, as he afterwards expressed it, “forenint +the Lord,” but his thoughts were bent on other matters, and it was no +time to indulge his vauntings. +</p> + +<p> +He strove for some time patiently, to catch her eye, for she was so situated as +to permit of this, but without success. He then made a slight attempt to +attract her attention by beckoning with his finger; all in vain. “Oh +murther,” said he, “what is this for? I’ll have to spake +afther all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Four by honours,” said his lordship, “and the odd trick. +Another double, I believe, Miss O’Dowd.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss O’Dowd nodded a graceful assent, while a sharp-looking old dowager +at the side of the table called out, “a rubber of four on, my +Lord;” and now began an explanation from the whole party at once. +Nicholas saw this was his time, and thought that in the melee, his hint might +reach his mistress unobserved by the remainder of the company. He accordingly +protruded his head into the room, and placing his finger upon the side of his +nose, and shutting one eye knowingly, with an air of great secrecy, whispered +out, “Miss Betty—Miss Betty, alanah!” For some minutes the +hum of the voices drowned his admonitions—but as, by degrees waxing +warmer in the cause, he called out more loudly,—every eye was turned to +the spot from whence these extraordinary sounds proceeded; and certainly the +appearance of Nicholas at the moment was well calculated to astonish the +“elegans” of a drawing room. With his one eye fixed eagerly in the +direction of his mistress, his red scratch wig pushed back off his forehead, in +the eagerness of his endeavour to be heard, there he stood, perfectly unmindful +of all around, save Miss O’Dowd herself. It may well be believed, that +such an apparition could not be witnessed with gravity, and, accordingly a +general titter ran through the room, the whist party still contending about odd +tricks and honours, being the only persons insensible to the mirth around +them—“Miss Betty, arrah, Miss Betty,” said Nicholas with a +sigh that converted the subdued laughter of the guests into a perfect burst of +mirth. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh,” said his lordship, turning round; “what is this? We are +losing something excellent, I fear.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, he caught a glimpse of Nicholas, and, throwing himself back in +this chair, laughed immoderately. It was now Miss Betty’s turn; she was +about to rise from the table, when the well-known accents of Nicholas fell upon +her ear. She fell back in her seat—there he was: the messenger of the +foul fiend himself would have been more welcome at that moment. Her blood +rushed to her face and temples; her hands tingled; she closed her eyes, and +when she opened them, there stood the accursed Nicholas glowering at her still. +</p> + +<p> +“Man—man!” said she at length; “what do you mean, what +do you want here?” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Nicholas, little guessing that the question was intended to throw a doubt +upon her acquaintance with him, and conceiving that the hour for the +announcement had come, hesitated for an instant how he should designate the +conveyance. He could not call it a coach! It certainly was not a +buggy—neither was it a jaunting car—what should he say—he +looked earnestly, and even imploringly at his mistress, as if to convey some +sense of his difficulty, and then, as it were, catching a sudden inspiration, +winked once more—as he said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Betty—the—the—the—,” and here he +looked indescribably droll; “the thing, you know, is at the door.” +</p> + +<p> +All his Lordship’s politeness was too little for the occasion, and Miss +O’Dowd’s tenantry were lost to the Callonby interest for ever. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ch4" id="ch4"></a> CHAPTER IV.<br/> +BOTANICAL STUDIES—THE NATURAL SYSTEM PREFERABLE TO THE LINNEAN.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus03"></a> +<a href="images/fig03.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig03.jpg" width="424" height="600" alt="Illustration: +Nicholas Announcing Miss Betty O’Dowds Carriage" /></a> +<p class="caption">Nicholas Announcing Miss Betty O’Dowds Carriage</p> +</div> + +<p> +“The carriage is at the door, my lord,” said a servant, entering +the luncheon-room where we were all assembled. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, Mr. Lorrequer,” said Lord Callonby, “allons, take +another glass of wine, and let us away. I expect you to make a most brilliant +speech, remember!” +</p> + +<p> +His lordship here alluded to our intention of visiting a remote barony, where a +meeting of the freeholders was that day to be held, and at which I was pledged +for a “neat and appropriate” oration in abuse of the corn laws and +the holy alliance. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg pardon, my lord,” said her ladyship in a most languishing +tone; “but Mr. Lorrequer is pre-engaged; he has for the last week been +promising and deterring his visit to the new conservatory with me; where he is +to find out four or five of the Swiss shrubs that Collins cannot make +out—and which I am dying to know all about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lorrequer is a false man then,” said Lady Catherine, +“for he said at breakfast, that we should devote this afternoon to the +chalk caves—as the tide will be so far out, we can see them all +perfectly.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” said Lord Kilkee, “must put in my plea, that the +aforesaid Mr. Lorrequer is booked for a coursing match—‘Mouche +versus Jessie.’—Guilty or not guilty?” +</p> + +<p> +Lady Jane alone of all said not a word. +</p> + +<p> +“Guilty on every count of the indictment,” said I; “I throw +myself on the mercy of the court.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let his sentence then be banishment,” said Lady Catherine with +affected anger, “and let him go with papa.” +</p> + +<p> +“I rather think,” said Lord Kilkee, “the better plan is to +let him visit the conservatory, for I’d wager a fifty he finds it more +difficult to invent botany, than canvass freeholders; eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure,” said Lady Jane, for the first time breaking silence, +“that mamma is infinitely flattered by the proposal that Mr. +Lorrequer’s company is to be conferred upon her for his sins.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not to be affronted, nor quizzed out of my chaperon; here, Mr. +Lorrequer,” said Lady Callonby rising, “get Smith’s book +there, and let me have your arm; and now, young ladies, come along, and learn +something, if you can.” +</p> + +<p> +“An admirable proviso,” said Lord Kilkee, laughing; “if his +botany be only as authentic as the autographs he gave Mrs. MacDermot, and all +of which he wrote himself, in my dressing-room, in half an hour. Napoleon was +the only difficult one in the number.” +</p> + +<p> +Most fortunately this unfair disclosure did not reach her ladyship’s +ears, as she was busily engaged putting on her bonnet, and I was yet unassailed +in reputation to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Good bye, then,” said Lord Callonby; “we meet at +seven;” and in a few moments the little party were scattered to their +several destinations. +</p> + +<p> +“How very hot you have this place, Collins,” said Lady Callonby as +we entered the conservatory. +</p> + +<p> +“Only seventy-five, my lady, and the Magnolias require heat.” +</p> + +<p> +I here dropped a little behind, as if to examine a plant, and in a half-whisper +said to Lady Jane— +</p> + +<p> +“How came it that you alone, Lady Jane, should forget I had made another +appointment? I thought you wished to make a sketch of Craigmoran +Abbey—did you forget that we were to ride there to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +Before she could reply, Lady Callonby called out—“Oh, here it is, +Mr. Lorrequer. Is this a heath? that is the question.” +</p> + +<p> +Here her ladyship pointed to a little scrubby thing, that looked very like a +birch rod. I proceeded to examine it most minutely, while Collins waited with +all the intense anxiety of a man whose character depended on the sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“Collins will have it a jungermania,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“And Collins is right,” said I, not trusting myself with the +pronunciation of the awful word her ladyship uttered. +</p> + +<p> +Collins looked ridiculously happy. +</p> + +<p> +“Now that is so delightful,” said Lady Callonby, as she stopped to +look for another puzzle. +</p> + +<p> +“What a wretch it is,” said Lady Catherine, covering her face with +a handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“What a beautiful little flower,” said Lady Jane, lifting up the +bell of a “lobelia splendens.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know, of course,” said I, “what they call that flower in +France—L’amour tendre.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“True, I assure you; may I present you with this sprig of it,” +cutting off a small twig, and presenting it at the same instant unseen by the +others. +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated for an instant, and then extending her fair and taper hand took +it. I dared not look at her as she did so, but a proud swelling triumph at my +heart nearly choked me. +</p> + +<p> +“Now Collins,” said Lady Callonby, “I cannot find the Alpen +tree I brought home from the Grundenwald.” +</p> + +<p> +Collins hurried forward to her ladyship’s side. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Catherine was also called to assist in the search. +</p> + +<p> +I was alone with Lady Jane. +</p> + +<p> +“Now or never,” thought I; I hesitated—I stammered—my +voice faltered. She saw my agitation; she participated in, and increased it. At +last I summoned up courage to touch her hand; she gently withdrew it—but +so gently, it was not a repulse. +</p> + +<p> +“If Lady Jane,” said I at length, “if the +devoted—” +</p> + +<p> +“Holloa, there,” said a deep voice without; “is Mr. Lorrequer +there?” +</p> + +<p> +It was Lord Kilkee, returned from his coursing match. None but he who has felt +such an interruption, can feel for me. I shame to say that his brotherhood to +her, for whom I would have perilled my life, restrained me not from something +very like a hearty commendation of him to the powers that burn— +</p> + +<p> +“Down, dogs, there—down,” continued he, and in a moment after +entered the conservatory flushed and heated with the chace. +</p> + +<p> +“Mouche is the winner—two to one—and so, Master Shallow, I +owe you a thousand pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +Would to heaven that I had lost the wager, had it only taken a little longer to +decide it! I of course appeared overjoyed at my dog’s success, and +listened with great pretence of interest to the narrative of the +“run;” the more so, because that though perhaps more my friend than +the older members of the family, Lord Kilkee evidently liked less than them, my +growing intimacy with his sister; and I was anxious to blind him on the present +occasion, when, but for his recent excitement, very little penetration would +have enabled him to detect that something unusual had taken place. +</p> + +<p> +It was now so nearly dark, that her ladyship’s further search for the +alpine treasure became impossible, and so we turned our steps towards the +garden, where we continued to walk till joined by Lord Callonby. And now began +a most active discussion upon agriculture, rents, tithes, and toryism, in which +the ladies took but little part; and I had the mortification to perceive that +Lady Jane was excessively ‘ennuyée’, and seized the first +opportunity to leave the party and return to the house; while her sister gave +me from time to time certain knowing glances, as if intimating that my +knowledge of farming and political economy was pretty much on a par with my +proficiency in botany. +</p> + +<p> +One has discovered me at least, thought I; but the bell had rung to dress for +dinner, and I hastened to my room to think over future plans, and once more +wonder at the singular position into which fate and the “rules of the +service” had thrown me. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch5" id="ch5"></a> CHAPTER V.<br/> +PUZZLED—EXPLANATION—MAKES BAD WORSE—THE DEED </h2> + +<p> +“Any letters?” said her ladyship to a servant, as she crossed the +hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Only one, my lady—for Mr. Lorrequer, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“For me!” thought I; “how is this?” My letters had been +hitherto always left in Kilrush. Why was this forwarded here? I hurried to the +drawing-room, where I found a double letter awaiting me. The writing was +Curzon’s and contained the words “to be forwarded with haste” +on the direction. I opened and read as follows:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Dear Lorrequer,—Have you any recollection, among your numerous +‘escapades’ at Cork, of having grievously insulted a certain Mr. +Giles Beamish, in thought, word, or deed? If you have, I say, let me know with +all convenient despatch, whether the offence be one admitting of +apology—for if not, the Lord have mercy on your soul—a more wrothy +gentleman than the aforesaid, it having rarely been my evil fortune to +foregather with. He called here yesterday to inquire your address, and at my +suggestion wrote a note, which I now enclose. I write in great haste, and am +ever yours faithfully, C. Curzon.<br/> + “N.B.—I have not seen his note, so explain all and every +thing.” +</p> + +<p> +The inclosed letter ran thus: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Sir,—It can scarcely have escaped your memory, though now nearly +two months since, that at the Mayor’s ‘dejeune’ in Cork, you +were pleased to make merry at my expense, and expose me and my family for your +amusement. This is to demand an immediate apology, or that satisfaction which, +as an officer, you will not refuse your most obedient servant, Giles Beamish, +Swinburne’s Hotel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Giles Beamish! Giles Beamish!” said I, repeating the name in every +variety of emphasis, hoping to obtain some clue to the writer. Had I been +appointed the umpire between Dr. Wall and his reviewers, in the late +controversy about “phonetic signs,” I could not have been more +completely puzzled than by the contents of this note. “Make merry at his +expense!” a great offence truly—I suppose I have laughed at better +men than ever he was; and I can only say of such innocent amusement, as +Falstaff did of sack and sugar, if such be a sin, “then heaven help the +wicked.” But I wish I knew who he is, or what he alludes to, provided he +is not mad, which I begin to think not improbable. “By the bye, my Lord, +do you know any such person in the south as a Mr. Beamish—Giles +Beamish?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure,” said Lord Callonby, looking up from his newspaper, +“there are several of the name of the highest respectability. One is an +alderman of Cork—a very rich man, too—but I don’t remember +his Christian name.” +</p> + +<p> +“An alderman, did you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Alderman Beamish is very well known. I have seen him +frequently—a short florid, little man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it must be him,” said I, musingly, “it must have been +this worthy alderman, from whose worshipful person I tore the robe of office on +the night of the fete. But what does he mean by ‘my exposing him and his +family?’ Why, zounds, his wife and children were not with him on the +pavement. Oh, I see it; it is the mansion-house school of eloquence; did not +Sir William Curtis apologise for not appearing at court, from having lost an +eye, which he designated as an awful ‘domestic calamity.’” +</p> + +<p> +It being now settled to my satisfaction, that Mr. Beamish and the great +uncloaked were “convertible terms,” I set about making the +‘amende’ in the most handsome manner possible. I wrote to the +alderman a most pacific epistle, regretting that my departure from Cork +deprived me of making reparation before, and expressing a most anxious hope +that “he caught no cold,” and a fervent wish that “he would +live many years to grace and ornament the dignity of which his becoming costume +was the emblem.” This I enclosed in a note to Curzon, telling him how the +matter occurred, and requesting that he would send it by his servant, together +with the scarlet vestment which he would find in my dressing-room. Having +folded and sealed this despatch, I turned to give Lord Callonby an account of +the business, and showed him Beamish’s note, at which he was greatly +amused: and, indeed, it furnished food for mirth for the whole party during the +evening. The next morning I set out with Lord Callonby on the long-threatened +canvassing expedition—with the details of which I need not burden my +“Confessions.” Suffice it to say, that when Lord Kilkee was +advocating Toryism in the west, I, his accredited ambassador, was devoting to +the infernal gods the prelacy, the peerage, and the pension list—a mode +of canvass well worthy of imitation in these troublesome times; for, not to +speak of the great prospect of success from having friends on both sides of the +question, the principal can always divest himself of any unpleasant +consequences as regards inconsistency, by throing the blame on this friend, +“who went too far,” as the appropriate phrase is. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing could be more successful than our mission. Lord Callonby was delighted +beyond bounds with the prospect, and so completely carried away by high +spirits, and so perfectly assured that much of it was owing to my exertions, +that on the second morning of our tour—for we proceeded through the +county for three days—he came laughing into my dressing-room, with a +newspaper in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, Lorrequer,” said he, “here’s news for you. You +certainly must read this,” and he handed me a copy of the “Clare +Herald,” with an account of our meeting the evening before. +</p> + +<p> +After glancing my eye rapidly over the routine usual in such cases—Humph, +ha—nearly two hundred people—most respectable farmers—room +appropriately decorated—“Callonby Arms”—“after +the usual loyal toasts, the chairman rose”—Well, no matter. Ah! +here it is: “Mr. Lorrequer here addressed the meeting with a flow of +eloquence it has rarely, if ever, been our privilege to hear equalled. He began +by”—humph— +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said his lordship, impatiently, “you will never find it +out—look here—‘Mr. Lorrequer, whom we have mentioned as +having made the highly exciting speech, to be found in our first page, is, we +understand, the son of Sir Guy Lorrequer, of Elton, in Shropshire—one of +the wealthiest baronets in England. If rumour speak truly, there is a very near +prospect of an alliance between this talented and promising young gentleman, +and the beautiful and accomplished daughter of a certain noble earl, with whom +he has been for some time domesticated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what think you? Son of Sir Guy Lorrequer. I always thought my old +friend a bachelor, but you see the ‘Clare Herald’ knows better. Not +to speak of the last piece of intelligence, it is very good, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Capital, indeed,” said I, trying to laugh, and at the same time +blushing confoundedly, and looking as ridiculously as need be. +</p> + +<p> +It now struck me forcibly that there was something extremely odd in his +lordship’s mention of this paragraph, particularly when coupled with his +and Lady Callonby’s manner to me for the last two months. They knew +enough of my family, evidently, to be aware of my station and +prospects—or rather my want of both—and yet, in the face of this, +they not only encouraged me to prolong a most delightful visit, but by a +thousand daily and dangerous opportunities, absolutely threw me in the way of +one of the loveliest of her sex, seemingly without fear on their parts. +“‘Eh bien,’” thought I, with my old philosophy, +“Time, that ‘pregnant old gentleman,’ will disclose all, and +so ‘laisse, aller.’” +</p> + +<p> +My reveries on my good and evil fortune were suddenly interrupted by a letter +which reached me that evening, having been forwarded from Callonby by a special +messenger. “What! Another epistle from Curzon,” said I, as my eye +caught the address, and wondering not a little what pressing emergency had +called forth the words on the cover—“to be forwarded with +haste.” I eagerly broke the seal and read the following: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“My Dear Harry,—I received yours on the 11th, and immediately +despatched your note and the raiment to Mr. Beamish. He was from home at the +time, but at eight o’clock I was sent for from the mess to see two +gentlemen on most pressing business. I hurried to my quarters, and there found +the aforesaid Mr. B. accompanied by a friend, whom he introduced as Dr. De +Courcy Finucane, of the North Cork Militia—as warlike looking a +gentleman, of his inches, some five feet three, as you would wish to see. The +moment I appeared, both rose, and commenced a narrative, for such I judge it to +be, but so energetically and so completely together, that I could only bow +politely, and at last request that one, or the other, would inform me of the +object of their visit. Here began the tug of war, the Doctor saying, +‘Arrah, now Giles’—Mr. Beamish interrupting by ‘Whisht, +I tell ye—now, can’t you let me! Ye see, Mr. +Curzoin’—for so they both agreed to designate me. At last, +completely worn out, I said, ‘Perhaps you have not received my +friend’s note?’ At this Mr. Beamish reddened to the eyes, and with +the greatest volubility poured forth a flood of indignant eloquence, that I +thought it necessary to check; but in this I failed, for after informing me +pretty clearly, that he knew nothing of your story of the alderman, or his +cloak, added, that he firmly believed your pretended reparation was only a +renewed insult, and that—but in a word, he used such language, that I was +compelled to take him short; and the finale is, that I agreed you should meet +him, though still ignorant of what he calls the ‘original +offence.’—But heaven knows, his conduct here last night demands a +reprimand, and I hope you may give it; and if you shoot him, we may worm out +the secret from his executors. Nothing could exceed the politeness of the +parties on my consenting to this arrangement. Dr. Finucane proposed +Carrigaholt, as the rendezvous, about 12 miles, I believe, from Kilrush, and +Tuesday evening at six as the time, which will be the very earliest moment we +can arrive there. So, pray be up to time, and believe me yours, C. Curzon, +Saturday Evening.” +</p> + +<p> +It was late on Monday evening when this letter reached me, and there was no +time to be lost, as I was then about 40 Irish miles from the place mentioned by +Curzon; so after briefly acquainting Lord Callonby that I was called off by +duty, I hurried to my room to pack my clothes, and again read over this +extraordinary epistle. +</p> + +<p> +I confess it did appear something droll, how completely Curzon seemed to imbibe +the passion for fighting from these “blood-thirsty Irishmen.” For +by his own showing he was utterly ignorant of my ever having offended this Mr. +Beamish, of whom I recollected nothing whatever. Yet when the gentleman waxes +wrothy, rather than inconvenience him, or perhaps anxious to get back to the +mess, he coolly says, “Oh, my friend shall meet you,” and then his +pleasant jest, “find out the cause of quarrel from his executors!” +</p> + +<p> +Truly, thought I, there is no equanimity like his who acts as your second in a +duel. The gentlemanlike urbanity with which he waits on the opposite +friend—the conciliating tone with which he proffers implacable +enmity—the killing kindness with which he refuses all +accommodation—the Talleyrand air of his short notes, dated from the +“Travellers,” or “Brookes,” with the words 3 +o’clock or 5 o’clock on the cover, all indicative of the friendly +precipitancy of the negociation. Then, when all is settled, the social style +with which he asks you to take a “cutlet” with him at the +“Clarendon,” not to go home—are only to be equalled by the +admirable tact on the ground—the studiously elegant salute to the adverse +party, half a la Napoleon, and half Beau Brummell—the politely offered +snuff-box—the coquetting raillery about 10 paces or 12—are +certainly the beau ideal of the stoicism which preludes sending your friend out +of the world like a gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +How very often is the face of external nature at variance with the thoughts and +actions—“the sayings and doings” we may be most intent upon +at the moment. How many a gay and brilliant bridal party has wended its way to +St. George’s, Hanover-square, amid a downpour of rain, one would suppose +sufficient to quench the torch of Hymen, though it burned as brightly as Capt. +Drummond’s oxygen light; and on the other hand, how frequently are the +bluest azure of heaven and the most balmy airs shed upon the heart bursting +with affliction, or the head bowed with grief; and without any desire to +impugn, as a much high authority has done, the moral character of the moon, how +many a scene of blood and rapine has its mild radiance illumined. Such +reflections as these came thronging to my mind, as on the afternoon of Tuesday +I neared the little village of our rendezvous. +</p> + +<p> +The scene which in all its peaceful beauty lay before me, was truly a bitter +contrast to the occasion that led me thither. I stood upon a little peninsula +which separates the Shannon from the wide Atlantic. On one side the placed +river flowed on its course, between fields of waving corn, or rich +pasturage—the beautiful island of Scattery, with its picturesque ruins +reflected in the unrippled tide—the cheerful voices of the reapers, and +the merry laugh of the children were mingled with the seaman’s cry of the +sailors, who were “heaving short” on their anchor, to take the +evening tide. The village, which consisted of merely a few small cabins, was +still from its situation a pleasing object in the picture, and the blue smoke +that rose in slender columns from the humble dwellings, took from the scene its +character of loneliness, and suggested feelings of home and homely enjoyments, +which human habitations, however lowly, never fail to do. +</p> + +<p> +“At any other time,” thought I, “and how I could have enjoyed +all this, but now—and, ha, I find it is already past five o’clock, +and if I am rightly informed I am still above a mile from +‘Carrigaholt,’ where we were to meet.” +</p> + +<p> +I had dismissed my conveyance when nearing the village, to avoid observation, +and now took a foot-path over the hills. Before I had proceeded half a mile, +the scene changed completely. I found myself traversing a small glen, grown +over with a low oak scrub, and not presenting, on any side, the slightest trace +of habitation. I saw that the ground had been selected by an adept. The glen, +which grew narrow as I advanced, suddenly disclosed to my view a glimpse of the +Atlantic, upon which the declining sun was pouring a flood of purple glory. I +had scarcely turned from the contemplation of this beautiful object, when a +long low whistle attracted my attention. I looked in the direction from whence +it proceeded, and discovered at some distance from me three figures standing +beside the ruin of an old Abbey, which I now for the first time perceived. +</p> + +<p> +If I had entertained any doubt as to who they were, it had been speedily +resolved, for I now saw one of the party waving his hat to me, whom, I soon +recognized to be Curzon; he came forward to meet me, and, in the few hundred +yards that intervened before our reaching the others, told me as much as he +knew of the opposite party; which, after all, was but little. Mr. Beamish, my +adversary, he described as a morose, fire-eating southern, that evidently +longed for an “affair” with a military man, then considered a +circumstance of some eclat in the south; his second, the doctor, on the +contrary, was by far “the best of the cut-throats,” a most amusing +little personage, full of his own importance, and profuse in his legends of his +own doings in love and war, and evidently disposed to take the pleasing side of +every occurrence in life; they both agreed in but one point—a firm and +fixed resolve to give no explanation of the quarrel with me. “So +then,” said I, as Curzon hurried over the preceding account, “you +absolutely know nothing whatever of the reason for which I am about to give +this man a meeting.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more than you,” said Curzon, with imperturbable gravity; +“but one thing I am certain of—had I not at once promised him such, +he would have posted you in Limerick the next morning; and as you know our mess +rule in the 4—th, I thought it best—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, certainly, quite right; but now are you quite certain I am the man +who offended him? For I solemnly assure you, I have not the most remote +recollection of having ever heard of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“That point,” said Curzon, “there can be no doubt of, for he +not only designated you as Mr. Harry Lorrequer, but the gentleman that made all +Cork laugh so heartily, by his representation of Othello.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop!” said I, “say not a word more; I’m his +man.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time we had reached the ruins, and turning a corner came in full +contact with the enemy; they had been resting themselves on a tombstone as we +approached. +</p> + +<p> +“Allow me,” said Curzon, stepping a little in advance of me; +“allow me to introduce my friend Mr. Lorrequer, Dr. Finicane,—Dr. +Finicane, Mr. Lorrequer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Finucane, if quite agreeable to you; Finucane,” said the little +gentleman, as he lifted his hat straight off his head, and replaced it most +accurately, by way of salute. “Mr. Lorrequer, it is with sincere pleasure +I make your acquaintance.” Here Mr. Beamish bowed stiffly, in return to +my salutation, and at the instant a kind of vague sensation crossed my mind, +that those red whiskers, and that fiery face were not seen for the first time; +but the thumbscrews of the holy office would have been powerless to refresh my +memory as to when. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain,” said the doctor, “may I request the favour of your +company this way, one minute;” they both walked aside; the only words +which reached me as I moved off, to permit their conference, being an assurance +on the part of the doctor, “that it was a sweet spot he picked out, for, +by having them placed north and south, neither need have a patch of sky behind +him.” Very few minutes sufficed for preliminaries, and they both +advanced, smirking and smiling, as if they had just arranged a new plan for the +amelioration of the poor, or the benefit of the manufacturing classes, instead +of making preparations for sending a gentleman out of the world. +</p> + +<p> +“Then if I understand you, captain,” said the doctor, “you +step the distance, and I give the word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly,” said Curzon. +</p> + +<p> +After a joking allusion to my friend’s length of limb, at which we all +laughed heartily, we were placed, Curzon and the doctor standing and breaking +the line between us; the pistols were then put into our hands, the doctor +saying—“Now, gentlemen, I’ll just retire six paces, and turn +round, which will be quite time enough to prepare, and at the word +‘fire,’ ye’ll blaze away; mind now.” With a knowing +wink, the doctor delivered this direction, and immediately moved off; the word +“fire” followed, and both pistols went off together. My hat was +struck near the top, and, as the smoke cleared away, I perceived that my ball +had taken effect upon my adversary; he was wounded a little below the knee and +appeared to steady himself with the greatest difficulty. “Your friend is +hit,” said Curzon, to the doctor, who now came forward with another +pistol. “Your friend is hit.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I perceive,” said he, placing his finger on the spot; +“but it is no harm in life; so we proceed, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean to demand another shot?” said Curzon. +</p> + +<p> +“Faith, do I,” said the doctor coolly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Curzon, “I must tell you most unequivocally, I +refuse, and shall now withdraw my friend; and had it not been for a regulation +peculiar to our regiment, but never intended to include cases of this nature, +we had not been here now; for up to this hour my principal and myself are in +utter ignorance of any cause of offence ever having been offered by him to Mr. +Beamish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Giles, do you hear this?” said the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +But Giles did not hear it, for the rapid loss of blood from his wound had so +weakened him, that he had fainted, and now lay peaceably on the grass. +Etiquette was now at an end, and we all ran forward to assist the wounded man; +for some minutes he lay apparently quite senseless, and when he at last rallied +and looked wildly about him, it appeared to be with difficulty that he recalled +any recollection of the place, and the people around him; for a few seconds he +fixed his eyes steadily upon the doctor, and with a lip pale and bloodless, and +a voice quivering from weakness, said, +</p> + +<p> +“Fin! Didn’t I tell ye, that pistol always threw +high—oh!” and this he said with a sigh that nearly overpowered him, +“Oh, Fin, if you had only given me the saw-handled one, that <i>I am used +to;</i> but it is no good talking now.” +</p> + +<p> +In my inmost heart I was grateful to the little doctor for his mistake, for I +plainly perceived what “the saw-handled one he was used to” might +have done for me, and could not help muttering to myself with good Sir +Andrew—“If I had known he was so cunning of fence, I’d have +seen him damned before that I fought with him.” +</p> + +<p> +Our first duty was now to remove the wounded man to the high road, about which +both he himself and his second seemed disposed to make some difficulty; they +spoke together for a few moments in a low tone of voice, and then the doctor +addressed us—“We feel, gentlemen, this is not a time for any +concealment; but the truth is, we have need of great circumspection here, for I +must inform you, we are both of us bound over in heavy recognizances to keep +the peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bound over to keep the peace!” said Curzon and myself together. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing less; and although there is nobody hereabout would tell, yet if +the affair got into the papers by any means, why there are some people in Cork +would like to press my friend there, for he is a very neat shot when he has the +saw-handle,” and here the doctor winked. +</p> + +<p> +We had little time permitted us, to think upon the oddity of meeting a man in +such circumstances, for we were now obliged to contribute our aid in conveying +him to the road, where some means might be procured for his transfer to +Kilrush, or some other town in the neighbourhood, for he was by this time +totally unable to walk. +</p> + +<p> +After half an hour’s toiling, we at last did reach the highway, by which +time I had ample opportunity, short as the space was, to see something of the +character of our two opponents. It appeared the doctor exercised the most +absolute control over his large friend, dictating and commanding in a tone +which the other never ventured to resist; for a moment or two Mr. Beamish +expressed a great desire to be conveyed by night to Kilrush, where he might +find means to cross the Shannon into Kerry; this, however, the doctor opposed +strenuously, from the risque of publicity; and finally settled that we should +all go in a body to his friend, Father Malachi Brennan’s house, only two +miles off, where the sick man would have the most tender care, and what the +doctor considered equally indispensable, we ourselves a most excellent supper, +and a hearty welcome. +</p> + +<p> +“You know Father Malachi, of course, Mr. Lorrequer?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am ashamed to say I do not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not know Malachi Brennan and live in Clare! Well, well, that is strange; +sure he is the priest of this country for twelve miles in every direction of +you, and a better man, and a pleasanter, there does not live in the diocese; +though I’m his cousin that says it.” +</p> + +<p> +After professing all the possible pleasure it would afford my friend and myself +to make the acquaintance of Father Malachi, we proceeded to place Mr. Beamish +in a car that was passing at the time, and started for the residence of the +good priest. The whole of the way thither I was occupied but by one thought, a +burning anxiety to know the cause of our quarrel, and I longed for the moment +when I might get the doctor apart from his friend, to make the inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +“There—look down to your left, where you see the lights shining so +brightly, that is Father Malachi’s house; as sure as my name is De Courcy +Finucane, there’s fun going on there this night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, there certainly does seem a great illumination in the valley +there,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“May I never,” said the doctor, “if it isn’t a +station—” +</p> + +<p> +“A station!—pray may I ask—” +</p> + +<p> +“You need not ask a word on the subject; for, if I am a true prophet, +you’ll know what it means before morning.” +</p> + +<p> +A little more chatting together, brought us to a narrow road, flanked on either +side by high hedges of hawthorn, and, in a few minutes more, we stood before +the priest’s residence, a long, white-washed, thatched house, having +great appearance of comfort and convenience. Arrived here, the doctor seemed at +once to take on him the arrangement of the whole party; for, after raising the +latch and entering the house, he returned to us in a few minutes, and said, +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a while now; we’ll not go in to Father Malachi, ‘till +we’ve put Giles to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +We, accordingly, lifted him from off the car, and assisted him into the house, +and following Finucane down a narrow passage, at last reached a most +comfortable little chamber, with a neat bed; here we placed him, while the +doctor gave some directions to a bare-headed, red-legged hussey, without shoes +or stockings, and himself proceeded to examine the wound, which was a more +serious one than it at first appeared. +</p> + +<p> +After half an hour thus occupied, during which time, roars of merriment and +hearty peals of laughter burst upon us every time the door opened, from a +distant part of the house, where his reverence was entertaining his friends, +and which, as often as they were heard by the doctor seemed to produce in him +sensations not unlike those that afflicted the “wedding guest” in +the “Ancient Mariner,” when he heard the “loud +bassoon,” and as certainly imparted an equally longing desire to be a +partaker in the mirth. We arranged every thing satisfactorily for Mr. +Beamish’s comfort, and with a large basin of vinegar and water, to keep +his knee cool, and a strong tumbler of hot punch, to keep his heart +warm—homeopathic medicine is not half so new as Dr. Hahnneman would make +us believe—we left Mr. Beamish to his own meditations, and doubtless +regrets that he did not get “the saw-handled one, he was used to,” +while we proceeded to make our bows to Father Malachi Brennan. +</p> + +<p> +But, as I have no intention to treat the good priest with ingratitude, I shall +not present him to my readers at the tail of a chapter. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch6" id="ch6"></a> CHAPTER VI.<br/> +THE PRIEST’S SUPPER—FATHER MALACHI AND THE COADJUTOR—MAJOR +JONES AND THE ABBE</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus04"></a> +<a href="images/fig04.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig04.jpg" width="418" height="600" alt="Illustration: The +Sentry Challenging Father Luke and the Abbé" /></a> +<p class="caption">The Sentry Challenging Father Luke and the Abbé</p> +</div> + +<p> +At the conclusion of our last chapter we left our quondam antagonist, Mr. +Beamish, stretched at full length upon a bed practising homeopathy by +administering hot punch to his fever, while we followed our chaperon, Doctor +Finucane, into the presence of the Reverend Father Brennan. +</p> + +<p> +The company into which we now, without any ceremony on our parts, introduced +ourselves, consisted of from five and twenty to thirty persons, seated around a +large oak table, plentifully provided with materials for drinking, and cups, +goblets, and glasses of every shape and form. The moment we entered, the doctor +stepped forward, and, touching Father Malachi on the shoulder,—for so I +rightly guessed him to be,—presented himself to his relative, by whom he +was welcomed with every demonstration of joy. While their recognitions were +exchanged, and while the doctor explained the reasons of our visit, I was +enabled, undisturbed and unnoticed, to take a brief survey of the party. +</p> + +<p> +Father Malachi Brennan, P.P. of Carrigaholt, was what I had often pictured to +myself as the beau ideal of his caste; his figure was short, fleshy, and +enormously muscular, and displayed proportions which wanted but height to +constitute a perfect Hercules; his legs so thick in the calf, so taper in the +ancle, looked like nothing I know, except perhaps, the metal balustrades of +Carlisle-bridge; his face was large and rosy, and the general expression, a +mixture of unbounded good humour and inexhaustible drollery, to which the +restless activity of his black and arched eye-brows greatly contributed; and +his mouth, were it not for a character of sensuality and voluptuousness about +the nether lip, had been actually handsome; his head was bald, except a narrow +circle close above the ears, which was marked by a ring of curly dark hair, +sadly insufficient however, to conceal a development behind, that, if there be +truth in phrenology, bodes but little happiness to the disciples of Miss +Martineau. +</p> + +<p> +Add to these external signs a voice rich, fluent, and racy, with the mellow +“doric” of his country, and you have some faint resemblance of one +“every inch a priest.” The very antipodes to the +‘bonhomie’ of this figure, confronted him as croupier at the foot +of the table. This, as I afterwards learned, was no less a person than Mister +Donovan, the coadjutor or “curate;” he was a tall, spare, ungainly +looking man of about five and thirty, with a pale, ascetic countenance, the +only readable expression of which vibrated between low suspicion and intense +vulgarity: over his low, projecting forehead hung down a mass of straight red +hair; indeed—for nature is not a politician—it almost approached an +orange hue. This was cut close to the head all around, and displayed in their +full proportions a pair of enormous ears, which stood out in +“relief,” like turrets from a watch-tower, and with pretty much the +same object; his skin was of that peculiar colour and texture, to which, not +all “the water in great Neptune’s ocean” could impart a look +of cleanliness, while his very voice, hard, harsh, and inflexible, was +unprepossessing and unpleasant. And yet, strange as it may seem, he, too, was a +correct type of his order; the only difference being, that Father Malachi was +an older coinage, with the impress of Donay or St. Omers, whereas Mister +Donovan was the shining metal, fresh stamped from the mint of Maynooth. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus05"></a> +<a href="images/fig05.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig05.jpg" width="469" height="600" alt="Illustration: Supper +at Father Malachi’s" /></a> +<p class="caption">Supper at Father Malachi’s</p> +</div> + +<p> +While thus occupied in my surveillance of the scene before me, I was roused by +the priest saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Fin, my darling, you needn’t deny it; you’re at the old +game as sure as my name is Malachi, and ye’ll never be easy nor quiet +till ye’re sent beyond the sea, or maybe have a record of your virtues on +half a ton of marble in the church-yard, yonder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my honour, upon the sacred honour of a De Courcy—.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, never mind it now; ye see ye’re just keeping your +friends cooling themselves there in the corner—introduce me at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lorrequer, I’m sure—.” +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Curzon,” said the adjutant, bowing. +</p> + +<p> +“A mighty pretty name, though a little profane; well, Mr. +Curse-on,” for so he pronounced it, “ye’re as welcome as the +flowers in May; and it’s mighty proud I am to see ye here. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lorrequer, allow me to shake your hand—I’ve heard of ye +before.” +</p> + +<p> +There seemed nothing very strange in that; for go where I would through this +country, I seemed as generally known as ever was Brummell in Bond-street. +</p> + +<p> +“Fin tells me,” continued Father Malachi, “that ye’d +rather not be known down here, in regard of a reason,” and here he +winked. “Make yourselves quite easy; the king’s writ was never but +once in these parts; and the ‘original and true copy’ went back to +Limerick in the stomach of the server; they made him eat it, Mr. Lorrequer; but +it’s as well to be cautious, for there are a good number here. A little +dinner, a little quarterly dinner we have among us, Mr. Curseon, to be social +together, and raise a ‘thrifle’ for the Irish college at Rome, +where we have a probationer or two, ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“As good as a station, and more drink,” whispered Fin into my ear. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” continued the priest, “ye must just permit me to +re-christen ye both, and the contribution will not be the less for what +I’m going to do; and I’m certain you’ll not be worse for the +change Mr. Curseon—though ’tis only for a few hours, ye’ll +have a dacent name.” +</p> + +<p> +As I could see no possible objection to this proposal, nor did Curzon either, +our only desire being to maintain the secrecy necessary for our +antagonist’s safety, we at once assented; when Father Malachi took me by +the hand, but with such a total change in his whole air and deportment that I +was completely puzzled by it; he led me forward to the company with a good deal +of the ceremonious reverence I have often admired in Sir Charles Vernon, when +conducting some full-blown dowager through the mazes of a castle minuet. The +desire to laugh outright was almost irresistible, as the Rev. Father stood at +arm’s length from me, still holding my hand, and bowing to the company +pretty much in the style of a manager introducing a blushing debutante to an +audience. A moment more, and I must have inevitably given way to a burst of +laughter, when what was my horror to hear the priest present me to the company +as their “excellent, worthy, generous, and patriotic young landlord, Lord +Kilkee. Cheer every mother’s son of ye; cheer I say;” and certainly +precept was never more strenuously backed by example, for he huzzaed till I +thought he would burst a blood-vessel; may I add, I almost wished it, such was +the insufferable annoyance, the chagrin, this announcement gave me; and I +waited with eager impatience for the din and clamour to subside, to disclaim +every syllable of the priest’s announcement, and take the consequences of +my baptismal epithet, cost what it might. To this I was impelled by many and +important reasons. Situated as I was with respect to the Callonby family, my +assumption of their name at such a moment might get abroad, and the +consequences to me, be inevitable ruin; and independent of my natural +repugnance to such sailing under false colours, I saw Curzon laughing almost to +suffocation at my wretched predicament, and (so strong within me was the dread +of ridicule) I thought, “what a pretty narrative he is concocting for the +mess this minute.” I rose to reply; and whether Father Malachi, with his +intuitive quickness, guessed my purpose or not, I cannot say, but he certainly +resolved to out-maneuver me, and he succeeded: while with one hand he motioned +to the party to keep silence, with the other he took hold of Curzon, but with +no peculiar or very measured respect, and introduced him as Mr. MacNeesh, the +new Scotch steward and improver—a character at that time whose popularity +might compete with a tithe proctor or an exciseman. So completely did this +tactique turn the tables upon the poor adjutant, who the moment before was +exulting over me, that I utterly forgot my own woes, and sat down convulsed +with mirth at his situation—an emotion certainly not lessened as I saw +Curzon passed from one to the other at table, “like a pauper to his +parish,” till he found an asylum at the very foot, in juxta with the +engaging Mister Donovan. A propinquity, if I might judge from their +countenances, uncoveted by either party. +</p> + +<p> +While this was performing, Doctor Finucane was making his recognitions with +several of the company, to whom he had been long known during his visits to the +neighbourhood. I now resumed my place on the right of the Father, abandoning +for the present all intention of disclaiming my rank, and the campaign was +opened. The priest now exerted himself to the utmost to recall conversation +with the original channels, and if possible to draw off attention from me, +which he still feared, might, perhaps, elicit some unlucky announcement on my +part. Failing in his endeavours to bring matters to their former footing, he +turned the whole brunt of his attentions to the worthy doctor, who sat on his +left. +</p> + +<p> +“How goes on the law,” said he, “Fin? Any new proofs, as they +call them, forthcoming?” +</p> + +<p> +What Fin replied, I could not hear, but the allusion to the “suit” +was explained by Father Malachi informing us that the only impediment between +his cousin and the title of Kinsale lay in the unfortunate fact, that his +grandmother, “rest her sowl,” was not a man. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Finucane winced a little under the manner in which this was spoken: but +returned the fire by asking if the bishop was down lately in that quarter? The +evasive way in which “the Father” replied having stimulated my +curiosity as to the reason, little entreaty was necessary to persuade the +doctor to relate the following anecdote, which was not relished the less by his +superior, that it told somewhat heavily on Mr. Donovan. +</p> + +<p> +“It is about four years ago,” said the doctor, “since the +Bishop, Dr. Plunkett, took it into his head that he’d make a general +inspection, ‘a reconnoisance,’ as we’d call it, Mr. +Lor—that is, my lord! through the whole diocese, and leave no part far +nor near without poking his nose in it and seeing how matters were doing. He +heard very queer stories about his reverence here, and so down he came one +morning in the month of July, riding upon an old grey hack, looking just for +all the world like any other elderly gentleman in very rusty black. When he got +near the village he picked up a little boy to show him the short cut across the +fields to the house here; and as his lordship was a ‘sharp man and a +shrewd,’ he kept his eye on every thing as he went along, remarking this, +and noting down that. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Are ye regular in yer duties, my son?’ said he to the +gossoon. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I never miss a Sunday,’ said the gossoon; ‘for +it’s always walking his reverence’s horse I am the whole time av +prayers.’ +</p> + +<p> +“His lordship said no more for a little while, when he muttered between +his teeth, ‘Ah, it’s just slander—nothing but slander and +lying tongues.’ This soliloquy was caused by his remarking that on every +gate he passed, or from every cabin, two or three urchins would come out half +naked, but all with the finest heads of red hair he ever saw in his life. +</p> + +<p> +“‘How is it, my son,’ said he, at length; ‘they tell +very strange stories about Father Malachi, and I see so many of these children +with red hair. Eh—now Father Malachi’s a dark man.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘True for ye,’ said the boy; ‘true for ye, Father +Malachi’s dark; but the coadjutor!—the coadjutor’s as red as +a fox.’” +</p> + +<p> +When the laugh this story caused had a little subsided, Father Malachi called +out, “Mickey Oulahan! Mickey, I say, hand his lordship over ‘the +groceries’”—thus he designated a square decanter, containing +about two quarts of whiskey, and a bowl heaped high with sugar—“a +dacent boy is Mickey, my lord, and I’m happy to be the means of making +him known to you.” I bowed with condescension, while Mr. Oulahan’s +eyes sparkled like diamonds at the recognition. +</p> + +<p> +“He has only two years of the lease to run, and a ‘long +charge,’” (anglicé, a large family,) continued the priest. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll not forget him, you may depend upon it,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear that,” said Father Malachi, casting a glance of +triumph round the table, while a general buzz of commendation on priest and +patron went round, with many such phrases as, “Och thin, it’s his +riv’rance can do it,” “na bocklish,” “and why +not,” &c. &c. As for me, I have already “confessed” +to my crying sin, a fatal, irresistible inclination to follow the humour of the +moment wherever it led me; and now I found myself as active a partizan in +quizzing Mickey Oulahan, as though I was not myself a party included in the +jest. I was thus fairly launched into my inveterate habit, and nothing could +arrest my progress. +</p> + +<p> +One by one the different individuals round the table were presented to me, and +made known their various wants, with an implicit confidence in my power of +relieving them, which I with equal readiness ministered to. I lowered the rent +of every man at table. I made a general jail delivery, an act of grace, (I +blush to say,) which seemed to be peculiarly interesting to the present +company. I abolished all arrears—made a new line of road through an +impassable bog, and over an inaccessible mountain—and conducted water to +a mill, which (I learned in the morning) was always worked by wind. The +decanter had scarcely completed its third circuit of the board, when I bid fair +to be most popular specimen of the peerage that ever visited the “far +west.” In the midst of my career of universal benevolence, I was +interrupted by Father Malachi, whom I found on his legs, pronouncing a glowing +eulogium on his cousin’s late regiment, the famous North Cork. +</p> + +<p> +“That was the corps!” said he. “Bid them do a thing, and +they’d never leave off; and so, when they got orders to retire from +Wexford, it’s little they cared for the comforts of baggage, like many +another regiment, for they threw away every thing but their canteens, and never +stopped till they ran to Ross, fifteen miles farther than the enemy followed +them. And when they were all in bed the same night, fatigued and tired with +their exertions, as ye may suppose, a drummer’s boy called out in his +sleep—‘here they are—they’re coming’—they +all jumped up and set off in their shirts, and got two miles out of town before +they discovered it was a false alarm.” +</p> + +<p> +Peal after peal of laughter followed the priest’s encomium on the +doctor’s regiment; and, indeed, he himself joined most heartily in the +mirth, as he might well afford to do, seeing that a braver or better corps than +the North Cork, Ireland did not possess. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Fin, “it’s easy to see ye never can forget +what they did at Maynooth.” +</p> + +<p> +Father Malachi disclaimed all personal feeling on the subject; and I was at +last gratified by the following narrative, which I regret deeply I am not +enabled to give in the doctor’s own verbiage; but writing as I do from +memory, (in most instances,) I can only convey the substance: +</p> + +<p> +It was towards the latter end of the year ‘98—the year of the +troubles—that the North Cork was ordered, “for their sins” I +believe, to march from their snug quarters in Fermoy, and take up a position in +the town of Maynooth—a very considerable reverse of fortune to a set of +gentlemen extremely addicted to dining out, and living at large upon a very +pleasant neighbourhood. Fermoy abounded in gentry; Maynooth at that, time had +few, if any, excepting his Grace of Leinster, and he lived very privately, and +saw no company. Maynooth was stupid and dull—there were neither belles +nor balls; Fermoy (to use the doctor’s well remembered words) had +“great feeding,” and “very genteel young ladies, that carried +their handkerchiefs in bags, and danced with the officers.” +</p> + +<p> +They had not been many weeks in their new quarters, when they began to pine +over their altered fortunes, and it was with a sense of delight, which a few +months before would have been incomprehensible to them, they discovered, that +one of their officers had a brother, a young priest in the college: he +introduced him to some of his confrères, and the natural result followed. A +visiting acquaintance began between the regiment and such of the members of the +college as had liberty to leave the precincts: who, as time ripened the +acquaintance into intimacy, very naturally preferred the cuisine of the North +Cork to the meagre fare of “the refectory.” At last seldom a day +went by, without one or two of their reverences finding themselves guests at +the mess. The North Corkians were of a most hospitable turn, and the fathers +were determined the virtue should not rust for want of being exercised; they +would just drop in to say a word to “Captain O’Flaherty about leave +to shoot in the demesne,” as Carton was styled; or, they had a +“frank from the Duke for the Colonel,” or some other equally +pressing reason; and they would contrive to be caught in the middle of a very +droll story just as the “roast beef” was playing. Very little +entreaty then sufficed—a short apology for the “dereglements” +of dress, and a few minutes more found them seated at table without further +ceremony on either side. +</p> + +<p> +Among the favourite guests from the college, two were peculiarly held in +estimation—“the Professor of the Humanities,” Father Luke +Mooney; and the Abbé D’Array, “the Lecturer on Moral Philosophy, +and Belles Lettres;” and certain it is, pleasanter fellows, or more +gifted with the “convivial bump,” there never existed. He of the +Humanities was a droll dog—a member of the Curran club, the “monks +of the screw,” told an excellent story, and sang the “Cruiskeen +Lawn” better than did any before or since him;—the moral +philosopher, though of a different genre, was also a most agreeable companion, +an Irishman transplanted in his youth to St. Omers, and who had grafted upon +his native humour a considerable share of French smartness and +repartee—such were the two, who ruled supreme in all the festive +arrangements of this jovial regiment, and were at last as regular at table, as +the adjutant and the paymaster, and so might they have continued, had not +prosperity, that in its blighting influence upon the heart, spares neither +priests nor laymen, and is equally severe upon mice (see Æsop’s fable) +and moral philosophers, actually deprived them, for the “nonce” of +reason, and tempted them to their ruin. You naturally ask, what did they do? +Did they venture upon allusions to the retreat upon Ross? Nothing of the kind. +Did they, in that vanity which wine inspires, refer by word, act, or inuendo, +to the well-known order of their Colonel when reviewing his regiment in +“the Phœnix,” to “advance two steps backwards, and dress by +the gutter.” Far be it from them: though indeed either of these had been +esteemed light in the balance compared with their real crime. “Then, what +was their failing—come, tell it, and burn ye?” They actually, +“horresco referens,” quizzed the Major coram the whole +mess!—Now, Major John Jones had only lately exchanged into the North Cork +from the “Darry Ragement,” as he called it. He was a red-hot +orangeman, a deputy-grand something, and vice-chairman of the +“’Prentice Boys” beside. He broke his leg when a school-boy, +by a fall incurred in tying an orange handkerchief around King William’s +August neck in College-green, on one 12th of July, and three several times had +closed the gates of Derry with his own loyal hands, on the famed anniversary; +in a word, he was one, that if his church had enjoined penance as an expiation +for sin, would have looked upon a trip to Jerusalem on his bare knees, as a +very light punishment for the crime on his conscience, that he sat at table +with two buck priests from Maynooth, and carved for them, like the rest of the +company! +</p> + +<p> +Poor Major Jones, however, had no such solace, and the canker-worm eat daily +deeper and deeper into his pining heart. During the three or four weeks of +their intimacy with his regiment, his martyrdom was awful. His figure wasted, +and his colour became a deeper tinge of orange, and all around averred that +there would soon be a “move up” in the corps, for the major had +evidently “got his notice to quit” this world, and its pomps and +vanities. He felt “that he was dying,” to use Haines Bayley’s +beautiful and apposite words, and meditated an exchange, but that, from +circumstances, was out of the question. At last, subdued by grief, and probably +his spirit having chafed itself smooth by such constant attrition, he became, +to all seeming, calmer; but it was only the calm of a broken and weary heart. +Such was Major Jones at the time, when, “suadente diabolo,” it +seemed meet to Fathers Mooney and D’Array to make him the butt of their +raillery. At first, he could not believe it; the thing was +incredible—impossible; but when he looked around the table, when he heard +the roars of laughter, long, loud, and vociferous; when he heard his name +bandied from one to the other across the table, with some vile jest tacked to +it “like a tin kettle to a dog’s tail,” he awoke to the full +measure of his misery—the cup was full. Fate had done her worst, and he +might have exclaimed with Lear, “spit, fire—spout, rain,” +there was nothing in store for him of further misfortune. +</p> + +<p> +A drum-head court-martial—a hint “to sell out”—ay, a +sentence of “dismissed the service,” had been mortal calamities, +and, like a man, he would have borne them; but that he, Major John Jones, +D.G.S. C.P.B., &c. &c., who had drank the “pious, glorious, and +immortal,” sitting astride of “the great gun of Athlone,” +should come to this! Alas, and alas! He retired that night to his chamber a +“sadder if not a wiser man;” he dreamed that the +“statue” had given place to the unshapely figure of Leo X., and +that “Lundy now stood where Walker stood before.” He humped from +his bed in a moment of enthusiasm, he vowed his revenge, and he kept his vow. +</p> + +<p> +That day the major was “acting field officer.” The various +patroles, sentries, picquets, and out-posts, were all under his especial +control; and it was remarked that he took peculiar pains in selecting the men +for night duty, which, in the prevailing quietness and peace of that time, +seemed scarcely warrantable. +</p> + +<p> +Evening drew near, and Major Jones, summoned by the “oft-heard +beat,” wended his way to the mess. The officers were dropping in, and +true as “the needle to the pole,” came Father Mooney and the Abbé. +They were welcomed with the usual warmth, and strange to say, by none more than +the major himself, whose hilarity knew no bounds. +</p> + +<p> +How the evening passed, I shall not stop to relate: suffice it to say, that a +more brilliant feast of wit and jollification, not even the North Cork ever +enjoyed. Father Luke’s drollest stories, his very quaintest humour shone +forth, and the Abbé sang a new “Chanson a Boire,” that Beranger +might have envied. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you about, my dear Father D’Array?” said the +Colonel; “you are surely not rising yet; here’s a fresh cooper of +port just come in; sit down, I entreat.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say it with grief, my dear colonel, we must away; the half-hour has +just chimed, and we must be within ‘the gates’ before twelve. The +truth is, the superior has been making himself very troublesome about our +‘carnal amusements’ as he calls our innocent mirth, and we must +therefore be upon our guard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if it must be so, we shall not risk losing your society +altogether, for an hour or so now; so, one bumper to our next +meeting—to-morrow, mind, and now, M. D’Abbé, au revoir.” +</p> + +<p> +The worthy fathers finished their glasses, and taking a most affectionate leave +of their kind entertainers, sallied forth under the guidance of Major Jones, +who insisted upon accompanying them part of the way, as, “from +information he had received, the sentries were doubled in some places, and the +usual precautions against surprise all taken.” Much as this polite +attention surprised the objects of it, his brother officers wondered still +more, and no sooner did they perceive the major and his companions issue forth, +than they set out in a body to watch where this most novel and unexpected +complaisance would terminate. +</p> + +<p> +When the priests reached the door of the barrack-yard, they again turned to +utter their thanks to the major, and entreat him once more, “not to come +a step farther. There now, major, we know the path well, so just give us the +pass, and don’t stay out in the night air.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah oui, Monsieur Jones,” said the Abbé, “retournez, je vous +prie. We are, I must say, chez nous. Ces braves gens, les North Cork know us by +this time.” +</p> + +<p> +The major smiled, while he still pressed his services to see them past the +picquets, but they were resolved and would not be denied. +</p> + +<p> +“With the word for the night, we want nothing more,” said Father +Luke. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” said the major, in the gravest tone, and he was +naturally grave, “you shall have your way, but remember to call out loud, +for the first sentry is a little deaf, and a very passionate, ill-tempered +fellow to boot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never fear,” said Father Mooney, laughing; “I’ll go +bail he’ll hear me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—the word for the night is—‘Bloody end to the +Pope,’—don’t forget, now, ‘Bloody end to the +Pope,’” and with these words he banged the door between him and the +unfortunate priests; and, as bolt was fastened after bolt, they heard him +laughing to himself like a fiend over his vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +“And big bad luck to ye, Major Jones, for the same, every day ye see a +paving stone,” was the faint sub-audible ejaculation of Father Luke, when +he was recovered enough to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Sacristi! Que nous sommes attrappes,” said the Abbé, scarcely able +to avoid laughing at the situation in which they were placed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there’s the quarter chiming now; we’ve no time to +lose—Major Jones! Major, darling! Don’t now, ah, don’t! sure +ye know we’ll be ruined entirely—there now, just change it, like a +dacent fellow—the devil’s luck to him, he’s gone. Well, we +can’t stay here in the rain all night, and be expelled in the morning +afterwards—so come along.” +</p> + +<p> +They jogged on for a few minutes in silence, till they came to that part of the +“Duke’s” demesne wall, where the first sentry was stationed. +By this time the officers, headed by the major, had quietly slipped out of the +gate, and were following their steps at a convenient distance. +</p> + +<p> +The fathers had stopped to consult together, what they should do in this trying +emergency—when their whisper being overheard, the sentinel called out +gruffly, in the genuine dialect of his country, “who goes that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Father Luke Mooney, and the Abbé D’Array,” said the former, +in his most bland and insinuating tone of voice, a quality he most eminently +possessed. +</p> + +<p> +“Stand and give the countersign.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are coming from the mess, and going home to the college,” said +Father Mooney, evading the question, and gradually advancing as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Stand, or I’ll shot ye,” said the North Corkian. +</p> + +<p> +Father Luke halted, while a muttered “Blessed Virgin” announced his +state of fear and trepidation. +</p> + +<p> +“D’Array, I say, what are we to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“The countersign,” said the sentry, whose figure they could +perceive in the dim distance of about thirty yards. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure ye’ll let us pass, my good lad, and ye’ll have a friend +in Father Luke the longest day ye live, and ye might have a worse in time of +need; ye understand.” +</p> + +<p> +Whether he did understand or not, he certainly did not heed, for his only reply +was the short click of his gun-lock, that bespeaks a preparation to fire. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no help now,” said Father Luke; “I see +he’s a haythen; and bad luck to the major, I say again;” and this +in the fulness of his heart he uttered aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not the countersign,” said the inexorable sentry, +striking the butt end of the musket on the ground with a crash that smote +terror into the hearts of the priests. +</p> + +<p> +Mumble—mumble—“to the Pope,” said Father Luke, +pronouncing the last words distinctly, after the approved practice of a Dublin +watchman, on being awoke from his dreams of row and riot by the last toll of +the Post-office, and not knowing whether it has struck “twelve” or +“three,” sings out the word “o’clock,” in a long +sonorous drawl, that wakes every sleeping citizen, and yet tells nothing how +“time speeds on his flight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Louder,” said the sentry, in a voice of impatience. +</p> + +<p> +——“to the Pope.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t hear the first part.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh then,” said the priest, with a sigh that might have melted the +heart of anything but a sentry, “Bloody end to the Pope; and may the +saints in heaven forgive me for saying it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Again,” called out the soldier; “and no muttering.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bloody end to the Pope,” cried Father Luke in bitter desperation. +</p> + +<p> +“Bloody end to the Pope,” echoed the Abbé. +</p> + +<p> +“Pass bloody end to the Pope, and good night,” said the sentry, +resuming his rounds, while a loud and uproarious peal of laughter behind, told +the unlucky priests they were overheard by others, and that the story would be +over the whole town in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +Whether it was that the penance for their heresy took long in accomplishing, or +that they never could summon courage sufficient to face their persecutor, +certain it is, the North Cork saw them no more, nor were they ever observed to +pass the precincts of the college, while that regiment occupied Maynooth. +</p> + +<p> +Major Jones himself, and his confederates, could not have more heartily +relished this story, than did the party to whom the doctor heartily related it. +Much, if not all the amusement it afforded, however, resulted from his +inimitable mode of telling, and the power of mimicry, with which he conveyed +the dialogue with the sentry: and this, alas, must be lost to my readers, at +least to that portion of them not fortunate enough to possess Doctor +Finucane’s acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +“Fin! Fin! your long story has nearly famished me,” said the padre, +as the laugh subsided; “and there you sit now with the jug at your elbow +this half-hour; I never thought you would forget our old friend Martin +Hanegan’s aunt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s to her health,” said Fin; “and your reverence +will get us the chant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Agreed,” said Father Malachi, finishing a bumper, and after giving +a few preparatory hems, he sang the following “singularly wild and +beautiful poem,” as some one calls Christabel:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Here’s a health to Martin Hanegan’s aunt,<br/> + And I’ll tell ye the reason why!<br/> +She eats bekase she is hungry,<br/> + And drinks bekase she is dry.<br/> +<br/> + “And if ever a man,<br/> + Stopped the course of a can,<br/> +Martin Hanegan’s aunt would cry—<br/> + ‘Arrah, fill up your glass,<br/> + And let the jug pass;<br/> +How d’ye know but what your neighbour’s dhry?’” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my lord and gentlemen, da capo, if ye please—Fill up your +glass,” and the chanson was chorussed with a strength and vigour that +would have astonished the Philharmonic. +</p> + +<p> +The mirth and fun now grew “fast and furious;” and Father Malachi, +rising with the occasion, flung his reckless drollery and fun on every side, +sparing none, from his cousin to the coadjutor. It was not that peculiar period +in the evening’s enjoyment, when an expert and practical chairman gives +up all interference or management, and leaves every thing to take its course; +this then was the happy moment selected by Father Malachi to propose the little +“conthribution.” He brought a plate from a side table, and placing +it before him, addressed the company in a very brief but sensible speech, +detailing the object of the institution he was advocating, and concluding with +the following words:—“and now ye’ll just give whatever ye +like, according to your means in life, and what ye can spare.” +</p> + +<p> +The admonition, like the “morale” of an income tax, having the +immediate effect of pitting each man against his neighbour, and suggesting to +their already excited spirits all the ardour of gambling, without, however, a +prospect of gain. The plate was first handed to me in honour of my +“rank,” and having deposited upon it a handful of small silver, the +priest ran his finger through the coin, and called out:— +</p> + +<p> +“Five pounds! at least; not a farthing less, as I am a sinner. Look, +then,—see now; they tell ye, the gentlemen don’t care for the like +of ye! but see for yourselves. May I trouble y’r lordship to pass the +plate to Mr. Mahony—he’s impatient, I see.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mahony, about whom I perceived very little of the impatience alluded to, +was a grim-looking old Christian, in a rabbit-skin waistcoat, with long flaps, +who fumbled in the recesses of his breeches pocket for five minutes, and then +drew forth three shillings, which he laid upon the plate, with what I fancied +very much resembled a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Six and sixpence, is it? or five shillings?—all the same, Mr. +Mahony, and I’ll not forget the thrifle you were speaking about this +morning any way;” and here he leaned over as interceding with me for him, +but in reality to whisper into my ear, “the greatest miser from this to +Castlebar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s that put down the half guinea in goold?” (And this +time he spoke truth.) “Who’s that, I say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tim Kennedy, your reverence,” said Tim, stroking his hair down +with one hand, and looking proud and modest at the same moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Tim, ye’re a credit to us any day, and I always said so. +It’s a gauger he’d like to be, my lord,” said he, turning to +me, in a kind of stage whisper. I nodded and muttered something, when he +thanked me most profoundly as if his suit had prospered. +</p> + +<p> +“Mickey Oulahan—the lord’s looking at ye, Mickey.” This +was said piannisime across the table, and had the effect of increasing Mr. +Oulahan’s donation from five shillings to seven—the last two being +pitched in very much in the style of a gambler making his final coup, and +crying “va banque.” “The Oulahans were always dacent +people—dacent people, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be gorra, the Oulahans was niver dacenter nor the Molowneys, any +how,” said a tall athletic young fellow, as he threw down three crown +pieces, with an energy that made every coin leap from the plate. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll do now,” said Father Brennan; “I’ll +leave them to themselves;” and truly the eagerness to get the plate and +put down the subscription, fully equalled the rapacious anxiety I have +witnessed in an old maid at loo, to get possession of a thirty-shilling pool, +be the same more or less, which lingered on its way to her, in the hands of +many a fair competitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. M’Neesh”—Curzon had hitherto escaped all +notice—“Mr. M’Neesh, to your good health,” cried Father +Brennan. “It’s many a secret they’ll be getting out +o’ye down there about the Scotch husbandry.” +</p> + +<p> +Whatever poor Curzon knew of “drills,” certainly did not extend to +them when occupied by turnips. This allusion of the priest’s being caught +up by the party at the foot of the table, they commenced a series of inquiries +into different Scotch plans of tillage—his brief and unsatisfactory +answers to which, they felt sure, were given in order to evade imparting +information. By degrees, as they continued to press him with questions, his +replies grew more short, and a general feeling of dislike on both sides was not +very long in following. +</p> + +<p> +The father saw this, and determining with his usual tact to repress it, called +on the adjutant for a song. Now, whether he had but one in the world, or +whether he took this mode of retaliating for the annoyances he had suffered, I +know not; but true it is, he finished his tumbler at a draught, and with a +voice of no very peculiar sweetness, though abundantly loud, began “The +Boyne Water.” +</p> + +<p> +He had just reached the word “battle,” in the second line upon +which he was bestowing what he meant to be a shake, when, as if the word +suggested it, it seemed the signal for a general engagement. Decanters, +glasses, jugs, candlesticks,—aye, and the money-dish, flew right and +left—all originally intended, it is true, for the head of the luckless +adjutant, but as they now and then missed their aim, and came in contact with +the “wrong man,” invariably provoked retaliation, and in a very few +minutes the battle became general. +</p> + +<p> +What may have been the doctor’s political sentiments on this occasion, I +cannot even guess; but he seemed bent upon performing the part of a +“convivial Lord Stanley,” and maintaining a dignified neutrality. +With this apparent object, he mounted upon the table, to raise himself, I +suppose, above the din and commotion of party clamour, and brandishing a jug of +scalding water, bestowed it with perfect impartiality on the combatants on +either side. This Whig plan of conciliation, however well intended, seemed not +to prosper with either party; and many were the missiles directed at the +ill-starred doctor. Meanwhile Father Malachi, whether following the pacific +instinct of his order, in seeking an asylum in troublesome times, or equally +moved by old habit to gather coin in low places, (much of the money having +fallen,) was industriously endeavouring to insert himself beneath the table; in +this, with one vigorous push, he at last succeeded, but in so doing lifted it +from its legs, and thus destroying poor “Fin’s” gravity, +precipitated him, jug and all, into the thickest part of the fray, where he met +with that kind reception such a benefactor ever receives at the hands of a +grateful public. I meanwhile hurried to rescue poor Curzon, who, having fallen +to the ground, was getting a cast of his features taken in pewter, for such +seemed the operation a stout farmer was performing on the adjutant’s face +with a quart. With considerable difficulty, notwithstanding my supposed +“lordship,” I succeeded in freeing him from his present position; +and he concluding, probably, that enough had been done for one +“sitting,” most willingly permitted me to lead him from the room. I +was soon joined by the doctor, who assisted me in getting my poor friend to +bed; which being done, he most eagerly entreated me to join the company. This, +however, I firmly but mildly declined, very much to his surprise; for as he +remarked—“They’ll all be like lambs now, for they don’t +believe there’s a whole bone in his body.” +</p> + +<p> +Expressing my deep sense of the Christian-like forbearance of the party, I +pleaded fatigue, and bidding him good night, adjourned to my bed-room; and +here, although the arrangements fell somewhat short of the luxurious ones +appertaining to my late apartment at Callonby, they were most grateful at the +moment; and having “addressed myself to slumber,” fell fast asleep, +and only awoke late on the following morning to wonder where I was: from any +doubts as to which I was speedily relieved by the entrance of the +priest’s bare-footed “colleen,” to deposit on my table a +bottle of soda water, and announce breakfast, with his reverence’s +compliments. +</p> + +<p> +Having made a hasty toilet, I proceeded to the parlour, which, however late +events might have impressed upon my memory, I could scarcely recognise. Instead +of the long oak table and the wassail bowl, there stood near the fire a small +round table, covered with a snow—white cloth, upon which shone in +unrivalled brightness a very handsome tea equipage—the hissing kettle on +one hob was vis a vis’d by a gridiron with three newly taken trout, +frying under the reverential care of Father Malachi himself—a heap of +eggs ranged like shot in an ordnance yard, stood in the middle of the table, +while a formidable pile of buttered toast browned before the grate—the +morning papers were airing upon the hearth—every thing bespoke that +attention to comfort and enjoyment one likes to discover in the house where +chance may have domesticated him for a day or two. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Mr. Lorrequer. I trust you have rested well,” said +Father Malachi as I entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Never better; but where are our friends?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been visiting and comforting them in their affliction, and I may +with truth assert it is not often my fortune to have three as sickly looking +guests. That was a most unlucky affair last night, and I must apologise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t say a word, I entreat; I saw how it all occurred, and am +quite sure if it had not been for poor Curzon’s ill-timed +melody—” +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite right,” said the father interrupting me. “Your +friend’s taste for music—bad luck to it—was the +‘teterrima causa belli.’” +</p> + +<p> +“And the subscription,” said I; “how did it succeed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the money went in the commotion; and although I have got some seven +pounds odd shillings of it, the war was a most expensive one to me. I caught +old Mahony very busy under the table during the fray; but let us say no more +about it now—draw over your chair. Tea or coffee? there’s the rum +if you like it ‘chasse.’” +</p> + +<p> +I immediately obeyed the injunction, and commenced a vigorous assault upon the +trout, caught, as he informed me, “within twenty perches of the +house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your poor friend’s nose is scarcely regimental,” said he, +“this morning; and as for Fin, he was never remarkable for beauty, so, +though they might cut and hack, they could scarcely disfigure him, as Juvenal +says—isn’t it Juvenal? +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“‘Vacuus viator cantabit ante Latronem;’ +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“or in the vernacular: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“‘The empty traveller may whistle<br/> +Before the robber and his pistil’ (pistol).” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“There’s the Chili vinegar—another morsel of the +trout?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you; what excellent coffee, Father Malachi!” +</p> + +<p> +“A secret I learned at St. Omer’s some thirty years since. Any +letters, Bridget?”—to a damsel that entered with a pacquet in her +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“A gossoon from Kilrush, y’r reverence, with a bit of a note for +the gentleman there.” +</p> + +<p> +“For me!—ah, true enough. Harry Lorrequer, Esq. Kilrush—try +Carrigaholt.” So ran the superscription—the first part being in a +lady’s handwriting; the latter very like the “rustic paling” +of the worthy Mrs. Healy’s style. The seal was a large one, bearing a +coronet at top, and the motto in old Norman-French, told me it came from +Callonby. +</p> + +<p> +With what a trembling hand and beating heart I broke it open, and yet feared to +read it—so much of my destiny might be in that simple page. For once in +my life my sanguine spirit failed me; my mind could take in but one casualty, +that Lady Jane had divulged to her family the nature of my attentions, and that +in the letter before me lay a cold mandate of dismissal from her presence for +ever. +</p> + +<p> +At last I summoned courage to read it; but having scrupled to present to my +readers the Reverend Father Brennan at the tail of a chapter, let me not be +less punctilious in the introduction of her ladyship’s billet. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch7" id="ch7"></a> CHAPTER VII.<br/> +THE LADY’S LETTER—PETER AND HIS ACQUAINTANCES—TOO LATE.</h2> + +<p> +Her ladyship’s letter ran thus— +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Callonby, Tuesday morning. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“My dear Mr. Lorrequer,—My lord has deputed me to convey to you +our adieus, and at the same time to express our very great regret that we +should not have seen you before out departure from Ireland. A sudden call of +the House, and some unexpected ministerial changes, require Lord +Callonby’s immediate presence in town; and probably before this reaches +you we shall be on the road. Lord Kilkee, who left us yesterday, was much +distressed at not having seen you—he desired me to say you shall hear +from him from Leamington. Although writing amid all the haste and bustle of +departure, I must not forget the principal part of my commission, nor lady-like +defer it to a postscript: my lord entreats that you will, if possible, pass a +month or two with us in London this season; make any use of his name you think +fit at the Horse-Guards, where he has some influence. Knowing as I do, with +what kindness you ever accede to the wishes of your friends, I need not say how +much gratification this will afford us all; but, sans response, we expect you. +Believe me to remain, yours very sincerely, +</p> + +<p class="right"> + “Charlotte Callonby.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“P.S.—We are all quite well, except Lady Jane, who has a slight +cold, and has been feverish for the last day or two.” +</p> + +<p> +Words cannot convey any idea of the torrent of contending emotions under which +I perused this letter. The suddenness of the departure, without an opportunity +of even a moment’s leave-taking, completely unmanned me. What would I not +have given to be able to see her once more, even for an instant—to say +“a good bye”—to watch the feeling with which she parted from +me, and augur from it either favourably to my heart’s dearest hope, or +darkest despair. As I continued to read on, the kindly tone of the remainder +reassured me, and when I came to the invitation to London, which plainly argued +a wish on their part to perpetuate the intimacy, I was obliged to read it again +and again, before I could convince myself of its reality. There it was, +however, most distinctly and legibly impressed in her ladyship’s fairest +calligraphy; and certainly great as was its consequence to me at the time, it +by no means formed the principal part of the communication. The two lines of +postscript contained more, far more food for hopes and fears than did all the +rest of the epistle. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Jane was ill then, slightly however—a mere cold; true, but she was +feverish. I could not help asking myself what share had I causing that flushed +cheek and anxious eye, and pictured to myself, perhaps with more vividness than +reality, a thousand little traits of manner, all proofs strong as holy writ to +my sanguine mind, that my affection was returned, and that I loved not in vain. +Again and again I read over the entire letter; never truly did a nisi prius +lawyer con over a new act of parliament with more searching ingenuity, to +detect its hidden meaning, than did I to unravel through its plain phraseology +the secret intention of the writer towards me. +</p> + +<p> +There is an old and not less true adage, that what we wish we readily believe; +and so with me—I found myself an easy convert to my own hopes and +desires, and actually ended by persuading myself—no very hard +task—that my Lord Callonby had not only witnessed but approved of my +attachment to his beautiful daughter, and for reasons probably known to him, +but concealed from me, opined that I was a suitable “parti,” and +gave all due encouragement to my suit. The hint about using his +lordship’s influence at the Horse guards I resolved to benefit by; not, +however, in obtaining leave of absence, which I hoped to accomplish more +easily, but with his good sanction in pushing my promotion, when I claimed him +as my right honorable father-in-law—a point, on the propriety of which, I +had now fully satisfied myself. What visions of rising greatness burst upon my +mind, as I thought on the prospect that opened before me; but here let me do +myself the justice to record, that amid all my pleasure and exultation, my +proudest thought, was in the anticipation of possessing one in every way so +much my superior—the very consciousness of which imparted a thrill of +fear to my heart, that such good fortune was too much even to hope for. +</p> + +<p> +How long I might have luxuriated in such Chateaux en Espagne, heaven knows; +thick and thronging fancies came abundantly to my mind, and it was with +something of the feeling of the porter in the Arabian Nights, as he surveyed +the fragments of his broken ware, hurled down in a moment of glorious +dreaminess, that I turned to look at the squat and unaristocratic figure of +Father Malachi, as he sat reading his newspaper before the fire. How came I in +such company; methinks the Dean of Windsor, or the Bishop of Durham had been a +much more seemly associate for one destined as I was for the flood-tide of the +world’s favour. +</p> + +<p> +My eye at this instant rested upon the date of the letter, which was that of +the preceding morning, and immediately a thought struck me that, as the day was +a louring and gloomy one, perhaps they might have deferred their journey, and I +at once determined to hasten to Callonby, and, if possible, see them before +their departure. +</p> + +<p> +“Father Brennan,” said I, at length, “I have just received a +letter which compels me to reach Kilrush as soon as possible. Is there any +public conveyance in the village?” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t talk of leaving us, surely,” said the priest, +“and a haunch of mutton for dinner, and Fin says he’ll be down, and +your friend, too, and we’ll have poor Beamish in on a sofa.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to say my business will not admit of delay, but, if possible, +I shall return to thank you for all you kindness, in a day or two—perhaps +tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then,” said Father Brennan, “if it must be so, why you +can have ‘Pether,’ my own pad, and a better you never laid leg +over; only give him his own time, and let him keep the ‘canter,’ +and he’ll never draw up from morning till night; and now I’ll just +go and have him in readiness for you.” +</p> + +<p> +After professing my warm acknowledgments to the good father for his kindness, I +hastened to take a hurried farewell of Curzon before going. I found him sitting +up in bed taking his breakfast; a large strip of black plaster, extending from +the corner of one eye across the nose, and terminating near the mouth, denoted +the locale of a goodly wound, while the blue, purple and yellow patches into +which his face was partitioned out, left you in doubt whether he now resembled +the knave of clubs or a new map of the Ordnance survey; one hand was wrapped up +in a bandage, and altogether a more rueful and woe-begone looking figure I have +rarely looked upon; and most certainly I am of opinion that the +“glorious, pious and immortal memory” would have brought pleasanter +recollections to Daniel O’Connell himself, than it would on that morning +to the adjutant of his majesty’s 4—th. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Harry,” said he, as I entered, “what Pandemonium is this +we’ve got into? did you ever witness such a business as last +night’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why truly,” said I, “I know of no one to blame but yourself; +surely you must have known what a fracas your infernal song would bring +on.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know now whether I knew it or not; but certainly at the +moment I should have preferred anything to the confounded cross-examination I +was under, and was glad to end it by any coup d’etat. One wretch was +persecuting me about green crops, and another about the feeding of bullocks; +about either of which I knew as much as a bear does of a ballet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, truly, you caused a diversion at some expense to your countenance, +for I never beheld anything—” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop there,” said he, “you surely have not seen the +doctor—he beats me hollow—they have scarcely left so much hair on +his head as would do for an Indian’s scalp lock; and, of a verity, his +aspect is awful this morning; he has just been here, and by-the-bye has told me +all about your affair with Beamish. It appears that somewhere you met him at +dinner, and gave a very flourishing account of a relative of his who you +informed him was not only selected for some very dashing service, but actually +the personal friend of Picton; and, after the family having blazed the matter +all over Cork, and given a great entertainment in honor of their kinsman, it +turns out that, on the glorious 19th, he ran away to Brussels faster than even +the French to Charleroi; for which act, however, there was no aspersion ever +cast upon his courage, that quality being defended at the expense of his +honesty; in a word, he was the paymaster of the company, and had what Theodore +Hook calls an ‘affection of his chest,’ that required change of +air. Looking only to the running away part of the matter, I unluckily expressed +some regret that he did not belong to the North Cork, and I remarked the doctor +did not seem to relish the allusion, and as <i>I</i> only now remember, it was +<i>his</i> regiment, I suppose I’m in for more mischief.” +</p> + +<p> +I had no time to enjoy Curzon’s dilemma, and had barely informed him of +my intended departure, when a voice from without the room proclaimed that +“Pether” was ready, and having commissioned the adjutant to say the +“proper” to Mr. Beamish and the doctor, hurried away, and after a +hearty shake of the hand from Father Brennan, and a faithful promise to return +soon, I mounted and set off. +</p> + +<p> +Peter’s pace was of all others the one least likely to disturb the +lucubrations of a castle-builder like myself; without any admonition from whip +or spur he maintained a steady and constant canter, which, I am free to +confess, was more agreeable to sit, than it was graceful to behold; for his +head being much lower than his tail, he every moment appeared in the attitude +of a diver about to plunge into the water, and more than once I had misgivings +that I would consult my safety better if I sat with my face to the tail; +however, what will not habit accomplish? before I had gone a mile or two, I was +so lost in my own reveries and reflections, that I knew nothing of my mode of +progression, and had only thoughts and feelings for the destiny that awaited +me; sometimes I would fancy myself seated in the House of Commons, (on the +ministerial benches, of course,) while some leading oppositionist was +pronouncing a glowing panegyric upon the eloquent and statesmanlike speech of +the gallant colonel—myself; then I thought I was making arrangements for +setting out for my new appointment, and Sancho Panza never coveted the +government of an island more than I did, though only a West Indian one; and, +lastly, I saw myself the chosen diplomate on a difficult mission, and was +actually engaged in the easy and agreeable occupation of outmaneuvering +Talleyrand and Pozzo di Borgo, when Peter suddenly drew up at the door of a +small cabin, and convinced me that I was still a mortal man, and a lieutenant +in his Majesty’s 4—th. Before I had time afforded me even to guess +at the reason of this sudden halt, an old man emerged from the cabin, which I +saw now was a road-side ale-house, and presented Peter with a bucket of meal +and water, a species of “viaticum” that he evidently was accustomed +to, at this place, whether bestrode by a priest or an ambassador. Before me lay +a long straggling street of cabins, irregularly thrown, as if riddled over the +ground; this I was informed was Kilkee; while my good steed, therefore, was +enjoying his potation, I dismounted, to stretch my legs and look about me, and +scarcely had I done so when I found half the population of the village +assembled round Peter, whose claims to notoriety, I now learned, depended +neither upon his owner’s fame, nor even my temporary possession of him. +Peter, in fact, had been a racer, once—when, the wandering Jew might +perhaps have told, had he ever visited Clare—for not the oldest +inhabitant knew the date of his triumphs on the turf; though they were +undisputed traditions, and never did any man appear bold enough to call them in +question: whether it was from his patriarchal character, or that he was the +only race-horse ever known in his county I cannot say, but, of a truth, the +Grand Lama could scarcely be a greater object of reverence in Thibet, than was +Peter in Kilkee. +</p> + +<p> +“Musha, Peter, but it’s well y’r looking,” cried one. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, thin, maybe ye an’t fat on the ribs,” cried another. +</p> + +<p> +“An’ cockin’ his tail like a coult,” said a third. +</p> + +<p> +I am very certain, if I might venture to judge from the faces about, that, had +the favourite for the St. Leger, passed through Kilkee at that moment, +comparisons very little to his favor had been drawn from the assemblage around +me. With some difficulty I was permitted to reach my much admired steed, and +with a cheer, which was sustained and caught up by every denizen of the village +as I passed through, I rode on my way, not a little amused at my equivocal +popularity. +</p> + +<p> +Being desirous to lose no time, I diverged from the straight road which leads +to Kilrush, and took a cross bridle-path to Callonby; this, I afterwards +discovered was a detour of a mile or two, and it was already sun-set when I +reached the entrance to the park. I entered the avenue, and now my impatience +became extreme, for although Peter continued to move at the same uniform pace, +I could not persuade myself that he was not foundering at every step, and was +quite sure we were scarcely advancing; at last I reached the wooden bridge, and +ascended the steep slope, the spot where I had first met her, on whom my every +thought now rested. I turned the angle of the clump of beech trees from whence +the first view of the house is caught—I perceived to my inexpressible +delight that gleams of light shone from many of the windows, and could trace +their passing from one to the other. I now drew rein, and with a heart relieved +from a load of anxiety, pulled up my good steed, and began to think of the +position in which a few brief seconds would place me. I reached the small +flower-garden, sacred by a thousand endearing recollections. Oh! of how very +little account are the many words of passing kindness, and moments of +light-hearted pleasure, when spoken or felt, compared to the memory of them +when hallowed by time or distance. +</p> + +<p> +“The place, the hour, the sunshine and the shade,” all reminded me +of the happy past, and all brought vividly before me every portion of that +dream of happiness in which I was so utterly—so completely +steeped—every thought of the hopelessness of my passion was lost in the +intensity of it, and I did not, in the ardour of my loving, stop to think of +its possible success. +</p> + +<p> +It was strange enough that the extreme impatience, the hurried anxiety, I had +felt and suffered from, while riding up the avenue, had now fled entirely, and +in its place I felt nothing but a diffident distrust of myself, and a vague +sense of awkwardness about intruding thus unexpectedly upon the family, while +engaged in all the cares and preparations for a speedy departure. The hall-door +lay as usual wide open, the hall itself was strewn and littered with trunks, +imperials, and packing-cases, and the hundred et ceteras of travelling baggage. +I hesitated a moment whether I should not ring, but at last resolved to enter +unannounced, and, presuming upon my intimacy, see what effect my sudden +appearance would have on Lady Jane, whose feelings towards me would be thus +most unequivocally tested. I passed along the wide corridor, entered the +music-room—it was still—I walked then to the door of the +drawing-room—I paused—I drew a full breath—my hand trembled +slightly as I turned the lock—I entered—the room was empty, but the +blazing fire upon the hearth, the large arm-chairs drawn around, the scattered +books upon the small tables, all told that it had been inhabited a very short +time before. Ah! thought I, looking at my watch, they are at dinner, and I +began at once to devise a hundred different plans to account for my late +absence and present visit. I knew that a few minutes would probably bring them +into the drawing-room, and I felt flurried and heated as the time drew near. At +last I heard voices without—I started from the examination of a pencil +drawing but partly finished, but the artist of which I could not be deceived +in—I listened—the sounds drew near—I could not distinguish +who were the speakers—the door-lock turned, and I rose to make my +well-conned, but half-forgotten speech; and oh, confounded disappointment, Mrs. +Herbert, the house-keeper, entered. She started, not expecting to see me, and +immediately said, +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Mr. Lorrequer! then you’ve missed them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Missed them!” said I; “how—when—where?” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you not get a note from my lord?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; when was it written?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear me, that is so very unfortunate. Why, sir, my lord sent off a +servant this morning to Kilrush, in Lord Kilkee’s tilbury, to request you +would meet them all in Ennis this evening, where they had intended to stop for +to-night; and they waited here till near four o’clock to-day, but when +the servant came back with the intelligence that you were from home, and not +expected to return soon, they were obliged to set out, and are not going to +make any delay now, till they reach London. The last direction, however, my +lord gave, was to forward her ladyship’s letter to you as soon as +possible.” +</p> + +<p> +What I thought, said, or felt, might be a good subject of confession to Father +Malachi, for I fear it may be recorded among my sins, as I doubt not that the +agony I suffered vented itself in no measured form of speech or conduct; but I +have nothing to confess here on the subject, being so totally overwhelmed as +not to know what I did or said. My first gleam of reason elicited itself by +asking, +</p> + +<p> +“Is there, then, no chance of their stopping in Ennis to-night?” As +I put the question my mind reverted to Peter and his eternal canter. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear, no, sir; the horses are ordered to take them, since Tuesday; +and they only thought of staying in Ennis, if you came time enough to meet +them—and they will be so sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so, Mrs. Herbert? do you, indeed, think so?” said I, +in a most insinuating tone. +</p> + +<p> +“I am perfectly sure of it, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mrs. Herbert, you are too kind to think so; but perhaps—that +is—may be, Mrs. Herbert, she said something—” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady Callonby, I mean; did her ladyship leave any message for me about +her plants? or did she remember—” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Herbert kept looking at me all the time, with her great wide grey eyes, +while I kept stammering and blushing like a school-boy. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir; her ladyship said nothing, sir; but Lady Jane—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; well, what of Lady Jane, my dear Mrs. Herbert?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir! but you look pale; would not you like to have a little wine and +water—or perhaps—” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you, nothing whatever; I am just a little fatigued—but +you were mentioning—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; I was saying that Lady Jane was mighty particular about a +small plant; she ordered it to be left in her dressing-room, though Collins +told her to have some of the handsome ones of the green-house, she would have +nothing but this; and if you were only to hear half the directions she gave +about keeping it watered, and taking off dead leaves, you’d think her +heart was set on it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Herbert would have had no cause to prescribe for my paleness had she only +looked at me this time; fortunately, however, she was engaged, +housekeeper-like, in bustling among books, papers, &c. which she had come +in for the purpose of arranging and packing up. She being left behind to bring +up the rear, and the heavy baggage. +</p> + +<p> +Very few moments’ consideration were sufficient to show me that pursuit +was hopeless; whatever might have been Peter’s performance in the reign +of “Queen Anne,” he had now become like the goose so pathetically +described by my friend Lover, rather “stiff in his limbs,” and the +odds were fearfully against his overtaking four horses, starting fresh every +ten miles, not to mention their being some hours in advance already. Having +declined all Mrs. Herbert’s many kind offers, anent food and rest, I took +a last lingering look at the beautiful pictures, which still held its place in +the room lately mine, and hurried from a place so full of recollections; and, +notwithstanding the many reasons I had for self-gratulation, every object +around and about, filled me with sorrow and regret for hours that had +passed—never, never to return. +</p> + +<p> +It was very late when I reached my old quarters at Kilrush; Mrs. Healy +fortunately was in bed asleep—fortunately I say, for had she selected +that occasion to vent her indignation for my long absence, I greatly fear that, +in my then temper I should have exhibited but little of that Job-like endurance +for which I was once esteemed; I entered my little mean-looking parlour, with +its three chairs and lame table, and, as I flung myself upon the wretched +substitute for a sofa, and thought upon the varied events which a few weeks had +brought about; it required the aid of her ladyship’s letter, which I +opened before me, to assure me I was not dreaming. +</p> + +<p> +The entire of that night I could not sleep; my destiny seemed upon its balance; +and, whether the scale inclined to this side or that, good or evil fortune +seemed to betide me. How many were my plans and resolutions, and how often +abandoned; again to be pondered over, and once more given up. The grey dawn of +the morning was already breaking, and found me still doubting and uncertain. At +last the die was thrown; I determined at once to apply for leave to my +commanding officer, (which he could, if he pleased, give me, without any +application to the Horse Guards,) set out for Elton, tell Sir Guy my whole +adventure, and endeavour, by a more moving love story than ever graced even the +Minerva Press, to induce him to make some settlement on me, and use his +influence with Lord Callonby in my behalf; this done, set out for London, and +then—and then—what then?—then for the Morning +Post—“Cadeau de noces”—“happy +couple”—“Lord Callonby’s seat in Hampshire,” +&c. &c. +</p> + +<p> +“You wished to be called at five, sir,” said Stubber. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; is it five o’clock?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir; but I heard you call out something about ‘four +horses,’ and I thought you might be hurried, so I came a little +earlier.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite right, Stubber; let me have my breakfast as soon as possible, and +see that chestnut horse I brought here last night, fed.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now for it,” said I, after writing a hurried note to Curzon, +requesting him to take command of my party at Kilrush, till he heard from me, +and sending my kindest remembrance to my three friends; I despatched the +epistle by my servant on Peter, while I hastened to acquire a place in the mail +for Ennis, on the box seat of which let my kind reader suppose me seated, as +wrapping my box-coat around me, I lit my cigar and turned my eyes towards +Limerick. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch8" id="ch8"></a> CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +CONGRATULATIONS—SICK LEAVE—HOW TO PASS THE BOARD.</h2> + +<p> +I had scarcely seated myself to breakfast at Swinburn’s hotel in +Limerick, when the waiter presented me with a letter. As my first glance at the +address showed it to be in Colonel Carden’s handwriting, I felt not a +little alarmed for the consequences of the rash step I had taken in leaving my +detachment; and, while quickly thronging fancies of arrest and courtmartial +flitted before me, I summoned resolution at last to break the seal, and read as +follows:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“My dear Lorrequer,” (“dear Lorrequer!” dear me, +thought I; cool certainly, from one I have ever regarded as an open +enemy)—“My dear Lorrequer, I have just accidentally heard of your +arrival here, and hasten to inform you, that, as it may not be impossible your +reasons for so abruptly leaving your detachment are known to me, I shall not +visit your breach of discipline very heavily. My old and worthy friend, Lord +Callonby, who passed through here yesterday, has so warmly interested himself +in your behalf, that I feel disposed to do all in my power to serve you; +independently of my desire to do so on your own account. Come over here, then, +as soon as possible, and let us talk over your plans together. +</p> + +<p class="right"> + “Believe me, most truly yours,<br/> +“Henry Carden. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Barracks, 10 o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +How mysterious and difficult to unravel, have been some of the circumstances +narrated in these “Confessions,” I do not scruple to avow that the +preceding letter was to me by far the most inexplicable piece of fortune I had +hitherto met with. That Lord Callonby should have converted one whom I believed +an implacable foe, into a most obliging friend, was intelligible enough, seeing +that his lordship had through life been the patron of the colonel; but why he +had so done, and what communications he could possibly have made with regard to +me, that Colonel Carden should speak of “my plans” and proffer +assistance in them was a perfect riddle; and the only solution, one so +ridiculously flattering that I dared not think of it. I read and re-read the +note; misplaced the stops; canvassed every expression; did all to detect a +meaning different from the obvious one, fearful of a self-deception where so +much was at stake. Yet there it stood forth, a plain straightforward proffer of +services, for some object evidently known to the writer; and my only +conclusion, from all, was this, that “my Lord Callonby was the gem of his +order, and had a most remarkable talent for selecting a son-in-law.” +</p> + +<p> +I fell into a deep reverie upon my past life, and the prospects which I now +felt were opening before me. Nothing seemed extravagant to hopes so well +founded—to expectations so brilliant—and, in my mind’s eye, I +beheld myself at one moment leading my young and beautiful bride through the +crowded salons of Devonshire House; and, at the next, I was contemplating the +excellence and perfection of my stud arrangements at Melton, for I resolved not +to give up hunting. While in this pleasurable exercise of my fancy, I was +removing from before me some of the breakfast equipage, or, as I then believed +it, breaking the trees into better groups upon my lawn, I was once more brought +to the world and its dull reality, by the following passage which my eye fell +upon in the newspaper before me—“We understand that the 4—th +are daily expecting the route for Cork, from whence they are to sail, early in +the ensuing month for Halifax, to relieve the 99th.” While it did not +take a moment’s consideration to show me that though the regiment there +mentioned was the one I belonged to, I could have no possible interest in the +announcement; it never coming into my calculation that I should submit to such +expatriation; yet it gave me a salutary warning that there was no time to be +lost in making my application for leave, which, once obtained, I should have +ample time to manage an exchange into another corps. The wonderful revolution a +few days had effected in all my tastes and desires, did not escape me at this +moment. But a week or two before and I should have regarded an order for +foreign service as anything rather than unpleasant—now the thought was +insupportable. Then there would have been some charm to me in the very novelty +of the locale, and the indulgence of that vagrant spirit I have ever possessed; +for, like Justice Woodcock, “I certainly should have been a vagabond if +Providence had not made me a justice of the peace”—now, I could not +even contemplate the thing as possible; and would have actually refused the +command of a regiment, if the condition of its acceptance were to sail for the +colonies. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, I tried—and how ingenious is self-deception—I tried to +find arguments in support of my determination totally different from the +reasons which governed me. I affected to fear climate, and to dread the effect +of the tropics upon my health. It may do very well, thought I, for men totally +destitute of better prospects; with neither talent, influence or powerful +connexion, to roast their cheeks at Sierra Leone, or suck a sugar-cane at St. +Lucia. But that you, Harry Lorrequer, should waste your sweetness upon +planters’ daughters—that have only to be known, to have the world +at your feet! The thing is absurd, and not to be thought of! Yes, said I half +aloud—we read in the army list, that Major A. is appointed to the 50th, +and Capt. B. to the 12th; but how much more near the truth would it be, to +say—“That His Majesty, in consideration of the distinguished +services of the one, has been graciously pleased to appoint him to—a case +of blue and collapsed cholera, in India; and also, for the bravery and gallant +conduct of the other, in his late affair with the ‘How-dow-dallah +Indians,’ has promoted him to the—yellow fever now devastating and +desolating Jamaica.” How far my zeal for the service might have carried +me on this point, I know not; for I was speedily aroused from my musings by the +loud tramp of feet upon the stairs, and the sound of many well-known voices of +my brother officers, who were coming to visit me. +</p> + +<p> +“So, Harry, my boy,” said the fat major as he entered; “is it +true we are not to have the pleasure of your company to Jamaica this +time?” +</p> + +<p> +“He prefers a pale face, it seems, to a black one; and certainly, with +thirty thousand in the same scale, the taste is excusable.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Lorrequer,” said a third, “we heard that you had +canvassed the county on the Callonby interest. Why, man, where do you mean to +pull up?” +</p> + +<p> +“As for me,” lisped a large-eyed, white-haired ensign of three +months’ standing, “I think it devilish hard, old Carden +didn’t send ME down there, too, for I hear there are two girls in the +family. Eh, Lorrequer?” +</p> + +<p> +Having with all that peculiar bashfulness such occasions are sure to elicit, +disclaimed the happiness my friends so clearly ascribed to me, I yet pretty +plainly let it be understood that the more brilliant they supposed my present +prospects to be, the more near were they to estimate them justly. One thing +certainly gratified me throughout. All seemed rejoiced at my good fortune, and +even the old Scotch paymaster made no more caustic remark than that he +“wad na wonder if the chiel’s black whiskers wad get him made +governor of Stirling Castle before he’d dee.” +</p> + +<p> +Should any of my most patient listeners to these my humble confessions, wonder +either here, or elsewhere, upon what very slight foundations I built these my +“Chateaux en Espagne,” I have only one answer—“that +from my boyhood I have had a taste for florid architecture, and would rather +put up with any inconvenience of ground, than not build at all.” +</p> + +<p> +As it was growing late I hurriedly bade adieu to my friends, and hastened to +Colonel Carden’s quarters, where I found him waiting for me, in company +with my old friend, Fitzgerald, our regimental surgeon. Our first greetings +over, the colonel drew me aside into a window, and said that, from certain +expressions Lord Callonby had made use of—certain hints he had +dropped—he was perfectly aware of the delicate position in which I stood +with respect to his lordship’s family. “In fact, my dear +Lorrequer,” he continued, “without wishing in the least to obtrude +myself upon your confidence, I must yet be permitted to say, you are the +luckiest fellow in Europe, and I most sincerely congratulate you on the +prospect before you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear Colonel, I assure you—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, there—not a word more; don’t blush now. I know +there is always a kind of secrecy thought necessary on these occasions, for the +sake of other parties; so let us pass to your plans. From what I have +collected, you have not yet proposed formally. But, of course you desire a +leave. You’ll not quit the army, I trust; no necessity for that; such +influence as yours can always appoint you to an unattached commission.” +</p> + +<p> +“Once more let me protest, sir, that though for certain reasons most +desirous to obtain a leave of absence, I have not the most remote—” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right, quite right; I am sincerely gratified to hear you +say so, and so will be Lord Callonby; for he likes the service.” +</p> + +<p> +And thus was my last effort at a disclaimer cut short by the loquacious little +colonel, who regarded my unfinished sentence as a concurrence with his own +opinion. +</p> + +<p> +“Allah il Allah,” thought I, “it is my Lord Callonby’s +own plot; and his friend Colonel Cardon aids and abets him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Lorrequer,” resumed the colonel, “let us proceed. You +have, of course, heard that we are ordered abroad; mere newspaper report for +the present; nevertheless, it is extremely difficult—almost impossible, +without a sick certificate, to obtain a leave sufficiently long for your +purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +And here he smirked, and I blushed, selon les regles.. +</p> + +<p> +“A sick certificate,” said I in some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“The only thing for you,” said Fitzgerald, taking a long pinch of +snuff; “and I grieve to say you have a most villainous look of good +health about you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must acknowledge I have seldom felt better.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the worse—so much the worse,” said Fitzgerald +despondingly. “Is there no family complaint; no respectable heir-loom of +infirmity, you can lay claim to from your kindred?” +</p> + +<p> +“None, that I know of, unless a very active performance on the several +occasions of breakfast, dinner, and supper, with a tendency towards port, and +an inclination to sleep ten in every twenty-four hours, be a sign of sickness; +these symptoms I have known many of the family suffer for years, without the +slightest alleviation, though, strange as it may appear, they occasionally had +medical advice.” +</p> + +<p> +Fitz. took no notice of my sneer at the faculty, but proceeded to strike my +chest several times, with his finger tips. “Try a short cough now,” +said he. “Ah, that will never do!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you ever flush. Before dinner I mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Occasionally, when I meet with a luncheon.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m fairly puzzled,” said poor Fitz. throwing himself into a +chair; “gout is a very good thing; but, then, you see you are only a +sub., and it is clearly against the articles of war, to have it before being a +field officer at least. Apoplexy is the best I can do for you; and, to say the +truth, any one who witnesses your performance at mess, may put faith in the +likelihood of it. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think you could get up a fit for the medical board,” said +Fitz., gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, if absolutely indispensable,” said I, “and with good +instruction—something this way. Eh, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing of the kind: you are quite wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there not always a little laughing and crying,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, no; take the cue from the paymaster any evening after mess, and +you’ll make no mistake—very florid about the cheeks; rather a lazy +look in one eye, the other closed up entirely; snore a little from time to +time, and don’t be too much disposed to talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you think I may pass muster in this way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed you may, if old Camie, the inspector, happen to be (what he is +not often) in a good humour. But I confess I’d rather you were really +ill, for we’ve passed a great number of counterfeits latterly, and we may +be all pulled up ere long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the less grateful for your kindness,” said I; “but +still, I’d rather matters stood as they do.” +</p> + +<p> +Having, at length, obtained a very formidable statement of my +‘case’ from the Doctor, and a strong letter from the Colonel, +deploring the temporary loss of so promising a young officer, I committed +myself and my portmanteau to the inside of his Majesty’s mail, and +started for Dublin with as light a heart and high spirits, as were consistent +with so much delicacy of health, and the directions of my Doctor. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch9" id="ch9"></a> CHAPTER IX.<br/> +THE ROAD—TRAVELLING ACQUAINTANCES—A PACKET ADVENTURE.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus06"></a> +<a href="images/fig06.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig06.jpg" width="505" height="600" alt="Illustration: Mrs. +Mulrooney and Sir Stewart Moore" /></a> +<p class="caption">Mrs. Mulrooney and Sir Stewart Moore</p> +</div> + +<p> +I shall not stop now to narrate the particulars of my visit to the worthies of +the medical board; the rather, as some of my “confessions to come” +have reference to Dublin, and many of those that dwell therein. I shall +therefore content myself here with stating, that without any difficulty I +obtained a six months’ leave, and having received much advice and more +sympathy from many members of that body, took a respectful leave of them, and +adjourned to Bilton’s where I had ordered dinner, and (as I was advised +to live low) a bottle of Sneyd’s claret. My hours in Dublin were +numbered; at eight o’clock on the evening of my arrival I hastened to the +Pidgeon House pier, to take my berth in the packet for Liverpool; and here, +gentle reader, let me implore you if you have bowels of compassion, to +commiserate the condition of a sorry mortal like myself. In the days of which I +now speak, steam packets were not—men knew not then, of the pleasure of +going to a comfortable bed in Kingstown harbour, and waking on the morning +after in the Clarence dock at Liverpool, with only the addition of a little +sharper appetite for breakfast, before they set out on an excursion of forty +miles per hour through the air. +</p> + +<p> +In the time I have now to commemorate, the intercourse between the two +countries was maintained by two sailing vessels of small tonnage, and still +scantier accommodation. Of the one now in question I well recollect the +name—she was called the “Alert,” and certainly a more +unfortunate misnomer could scarcely be conceived. Well, there was no choice; so +I took my place upon the crowded deck of the little craft, and in a drizzling +shower of chilly rain, and amid more noise, confusion, and bustle, than would +prelude the launch of a line-of-battle ship, we “sidled,” +goose-fashion, from the shore, and began our voyage towards England. +</p> + +<p> +It is not my intention, in the present stage of “my Confessions,” +to delay on the road towards an event which influenced so powerfully, and so +permanently, my after life; yet I cannot refrain from chronicling a slight +incident which occurred on board the packet, and which, I have no doubt, may be +remembered by some of those who throw their eyes on these pages. +</p> + +<p> +One of my fellow-passengers was a gentleman holding a high official appointment +in the viceregal court, either comptroller of the household, master of the +horse, or something else equally magnificent; however, whatever the nature of +the situation, one thing is certain—one possessed of more courtly +manners, and more polished address, cannot be conceived, to which he added all +the attractions of a very handsome person and a most prepossessing countenance. +The only thing the most scrupulous critic could possibly detect as faulty in +his whole air and bearing, was a certain ultra refinement and fastidiousness, +which in a man of acknowledged family and connections was somewhat +unaccountable, and certainly unnecessary. The fastidiousness I speak of, +extended to everything round and about him; he never eat of the wrong dish, nor +spoke to the wrong man in his life, and that very consciousness gave him a kind +of horror of chance acquaintances, which made him shrink within himself from +persons in every respect his equals. Those who knew Sir Stewart Moore, will +know I do not exaggerate in either my praise or censure, and to those who have +not had that pleasure, I have only to say, theirs was the loss, and they must +take my word for the facts. +</p> + +<p> +The very antithesis to the person just mentioned, was another passenger then on +board. She, for even in sex they were different—she was a short, squat, +red-faced, vulgar-looking woman, of about fifty, possessed of a most garrulous +tendency, and talking indiscriminately with every one about her, careless what +reception her addresses met with, and quite indifferent to the many rebuffs she +momentarily encountered. To me by what impulse driven Heaven knows this +amorphous piece of womanhood seemed determined to attach herself. Whether in +the smoky and almost impenetrable recesses of the cabin, or braving the cold +and penetrating rain upon deck, it mattered not, she was ever at my side, and +not only martyring me by the insufferable annoyance of her vulgar loquacity, +but actually, from the appearance of acquaintanceship such constant association +gave rise to, frightening any one else from conversing with me, and rendering +me, ere many hours, a perfect pariah among the passengers. By not one were +we—for, alas, we had become Siamese—so thoroughly dreaded as by the +refined baronet I have mentioned; he appeared to shrink from our very approach, +and avoided us as though we had the plagues of Egypt about us. I saw +this—I felt it deeply, and as deeply and resolutely I vowed to be +revenged, and the time was not long distant in affording me the opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +The interesting Mrs. Mulrooney, for such was my fair companion called, was on +the present occasion making her debut on what she was pleased to call the +“says;” she was proceeding to the Liverpool market as proprietor +and supercargo over some legion of swine that occupied the hold of the vessel, +and whose mellifluous tones were occasionally heard in all parts of the ship. +Having informed me on these, together with some circumstances of her birth and +parentage, she proceeded to narrate some of the cautions given by her friends +as to her safety when making such a long voyage, and also to detail some of the +antiseptics to that dread scourge, sea-sickness, in the fear and terror of +which she had come on board, and seemed every hour to be increasing in alarm +about. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think then sir, that pork is no good agin the sickness? Mickey, +that’s my husband, sir, says it’s the only thing in life for it, av +it’s toasted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the least use, I assure you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor sperits and wather?” +</p> + +<p> +“Worse and worse, ma’am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thin, maybe oaten mail tay would do? it’s a beautiful thing +for the stomick, any how.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rank poison on the present occasion, believe me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then, blessed Mary, what am I to do—what is to become of +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go down at once to your berth, ma’am; lie still and without +speaking till we come in sight of land; or,” and here a bright thought +seized me, “if you really feel very ill, call for that man there, with +the fur collar on his coat; he can give you the only thing I ever knew of any +efficacy; he’s the steward, ma’am, Stewart Moore; but you must be +on your guard too as you are a stranger, for he’s a conceited fellow, and +has saved a trifle, and sets up for a half gentleman; so don’t be +surprised at his manner; though, after all, you may find him very different; +some people, I’ve heard, think him extremely civil.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he has a cure, ye say?” +</p> + +<p> +“The only one I ever heard of; it is a little cordial of which you take, +I don’t know how much, every ten or fifteen minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the naygur doesn’t let the saycret out, bad manners to +him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, ma’am; he has refused every offer on the subject.’ +</p> + +<p> +“May I be so bowld as to ax his name again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stewart Moore, ma’am. Moore is the name, but people always call +him Stewart Moore; just say that in a loud clear voice, and you’ll soon +have him.” +</p> + +<p> +With the most profuse protestations of gratitude and promises of pork “at +discretion,” if I ever sojourned at Ballinasloe, my fair friend proceeded +to follow my advice, and descended to the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +Some hours after, I also betook myself to my rest, from which, however, towards +midnight I was awoke by the heavy working and pitching of the little vessel, as +she laboured in a rough sea. As I looked forth from my narrow crib, a more +woe-begone picture can scarcely be imagined than that before me. Here and there +through the gloomy cabin lay the victims of the fell malady, in every stage of +suffering, and in every attitude of misery. Their cries and lamentings mingled +with the creaking of the bulk-heads and the jarring twang of the dirty lamp, +whose irregular swing told plainly how oscillatory was our present motion. I +turned from the unpleasant sight, and was about again to address myself to +slumber with what success I might, when I started at the sound of a voice in +the very berth next to me—whose tones, once heard, there was no +forgetting. The words ran as nearly as I can recollect thus:— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then, bad luck to ye for pigs, that ever brought me into the like of +this. Oh, Lord, there it is again.” And here a slight interruption to +eloquence took place, during which I was enabled to reflect upon the author of +the complaint, who, I need not say, was Mrs. Mulrooney. +</p> + +<p> +“I think a little tay would settle my stomach, if I only could get it; +but what’s the use of talking in this horrid place? They never mind me no +more than if I was a pig. Steward, steward—oh, then, it’s wishing +you well I am for a steward. Steward, I say;” and this she really did +say, with an energy of voice and manner that startled more than one sleeper. +“Oh, you’re coming at last, steward.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ma’am,” said a little dapper and dirty personage, in a blue +jacket, with a greasy napkin negligently thrown over one arm “ex +officio,” “Ma’am, did you call?” +</p> + +<p> +“Call, is it call? No; but I’m roaring for you this half hour. Come +here. Have you any of the cordial dhrops agin the sickness?—you know what +I mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it brandy, ma’am?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it isn’t brandy;” +</p> + +<p> +“We have got gin, ma’am, and bottled porter—cider, +ma’am, if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“Agh, no! sure I want the dhrops agin the sickness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know indeed, ma’am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you stupid creature; maybe you’re not the real steward. +What’s your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Smith, ma’am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I thought so; go away, man, go away.” +</p> + +<p> +This injunction, given in a diminuendo cadence, was quickly obeyed, and all was +silence for a moment or two. Once more was I dropping asleep, when the same +voice as before burst out with— +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to die here like a haythen, and nobody to come near me? Steward, +steward, steward Moore, I say,” +</p> + +<p> +“Who calls me?” said a deep sonorous voice from the opposite side +of the cabin, while at the same instant a tall green silk nightcap, surmounting +a very aristocratic-looking forehead, appeared between the curtains of the +opposite berth. +</p> + +<p> +“Steward Moore,” said the lady again, with her eyes straining in +the direction of the door by which she expected him to enter. +</p> + +<p> +“This is most strange,” muttered the baronet, half aloud. +“Why, madam, you are calling me!” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I am,” said Mrs. Mulrooney, “and if ye heerd me, have +ye no manners to answer your name, eh? Are ye steward Moore?” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my soul ma’am I thought so last night, when I came on board; +but you really have contrived to make me doubt my own identity.” +</p> + +<p> +“And is it there ye’re lying on the broad of yer back, and me as +sick as a dog fornent ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“I concede ma’am the fact; the position is a most irksome one on +every account.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why don’t ye come over to me?” and this Mrs. Mulrooney +said with a voice of something like tenderness—wishing at all hazards to +conciliate so important a functionary. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, really you are the most incomprehensible person I ever met.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m what?” said Mrs. Mulrooney, her blood rushing to her +face and temples as she spoke—for the same reason as her fair townswoman +is reported to have borne with stoical fortitude every harsh epithet of the +language, until it occurred to her opponent to tell her that “the divil a +bit better she was nor a pronoun;” so Mrs. Mulrooney, taking “omne +ignotum pro horribili,” became perfectly beside herself at the unlucky +phrase. “I’m what? repate it av ye dare, and I’ll tear yer +eyes out? Ye dirty bla—guard, to be lying there at yer ease under the +blankets, grinning at me. What’s your thrade—answer me +that—av it isn’t to wait on the ladies, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the woman must be mad,” said Sir Stewart. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil a taste mad, my dear—I’m only sick. Now just come +over to me, like a decent creature, and give me the dhrop of comfort ye have. +Come, avick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go over to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, and why not? or if it’s so lazy ye are, why then I’ll +thry and cross over to your side.” +</p> + +<p> +These words being accompanied by a certain indication of change of residence on +the part of Mrs. Mulrooney, Sir Stewart perceived there was no time to lose, +and springing from his berth, he rushed half-dressed through the cabin, and up +the companion-ladder, just as Mrs. Mulrooney had protruded a pair of enormous +legs from her couch, and hung for a moment pendulous before she dropped upon +the floor, and followed him to the deck. A tremendous shout of laughter from +the sailors and deck passengers prevented my hearing the dialogue which ensued; +nor do I yet know how Mrs. Mulrooney learned her mistake. Certain it is, she no +more appeared among the passengers in the cabin, and Sir Stewart’s manner +the following morning at breakfast amply satisfied me that I had had my +revenge. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch10" id="ch10"></a> CHAPTER X.<br/> +UPSET—MIND—AND BODY.</h2> + +<p> +No sooner in Liverpool, than I hastened to take my place in the earliest +conveyance for London. At that time the Umpire Coach was the perfection of fast +travelling; and seated behind the box, enveloped in a sufficiency of +broad-cloth, I turned my face towards town with as much anxiety and as ardent +expectations as most of those about me. All went on in the regular monotonous +routine of such matters until we reached Northampton, passing down the steep +street of which town, the near wheel-horse stumbled and fell; the coach, after +a tremendous roll to one side, toppled over on the other, and with a tremendous +crash, and sudden shock, sent all the outsides, myself among the number, flying +through the air like sea-gulls. As for me, after describing a very respectable +parabola, my angle of incidence landed me in a bonnet-maker’s shop, +having passed through a large plate-glass window, and destroyed more leghorns +and dunstables than a year’s pay would recompense. I have but light +recollection of the details of that occasion, until I found myself lying in a +very spacious bed at the George Inn, having been bled in both arms, and +discovering by the multitude of bandages in which I was enveloped, that at +least some of my bones were broken by the fall. That such fate had befallen my +collar-bone and three of my ribs I soon learned; and was horror-struck at +hearing from the surgeon who attended me, that four or five weeks would be the +very earliest period I could bear removal with safety. Here then at once was a +large deduction from my six months’ leave, not to think of the misery +that awaited me for such a time, confined to my bed in an inn, without books, +friends, or acquaintances. However even this could be remedied by patience, and +summoning up all I could command, I “bided my time,” but not before +I had completed a term of two months’ imprisonment, and had become, from +actual starvation, something very like a living transparency. +</p> + +<p> +No sooner, however, did I feel myself once more on the road, than my spirits +rose, and I felt myself as full of high hope and buoyant expectancy as ever. It +was late at night when I arrived in London. I drove to a quiet hotel in the +west-end; and the following morning proceeded to Portman-square, bursting with +impatience to see my friends the Callonbys, and recount all my +adventures—for as I was too ill to write from Northampton, and did not +wish to entrust to a stranger the office of communicating with them, I judged +that they must be exceedingly uneasy on my account, and pictured to myself the +thousand emotions my appearance so indicative of illness would give rise to; +and could scarcely avoid running in my impatience to be once more among them. +How Lady Jane would meet me, I thought of over again and again; whether the +same cautious reserve awaited me, or whether her family’s approval would +have wrought a change in her reception of me, I burned to ascertain. As my +thoughts ran on in this way, I found myself at the door; but was much alarmed +to perceive that the closed window-shutters and dismantled look of the house +proclaimed them from home. I rung the bell, and soon learned from a servant, +whose face I had not seen before, that the family had gone to Paris about a +month before, with the intention of spending the winter there. I need not say +how grievously this piece of intelligence disappointed me, and for a minute or +two I could not collect my thoughts. At last the servant said: +</p> + +<p> +“If you have any thing very particular, sir, that my Lord’s lawyer +can do, I can give you his address.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you—nothing;” at the same time I muttered to +myself, “I’ll have some occupation for him though ere long. The +family were all quite well, didn’t you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes sir, perfectly well. My Lord had only a slight cold,” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah—yes—and there address is ‘Meurice;’ very +well.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying I turned from the door, and with slower steps than I had come, +returned to my hotel. +</p> + +<p> +My immediate resolve was to set out for Paris; my second was to visit my uncle, +Sir Guy Lorrequer, first, and having explained to him the nature of my +position, and the advantageous prospects before me, endeavour to induce him to +make some settlement on Lady Jane, in the event of my obtaining her +family’s consent to our marriage. This, from his liking great people +much, and laying great stress upon the advantages of connexion, I looked upon +as a matter of no great difficulty; so that, although my hopes of happiness +were delayed in their fulfilment, I believed they were only about to be the +more securely realized. The same day I set out for Elton, and by ten +o’clock at night reached my uncle’s house. I found the old +gentleman looking just as I had left him three years before, complaining a +little of gout in the left foot—praising his old specific, +port-wine—abusing his servants for robbing him—and drinking the +Duke of Wellington’s health every night after supper; which meal I had +much pleasure in surprising him at on my arrival—not having eaten since +my departure from London. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Harry,” said my uncle, when the servants had left the room, +and we drew over the spider table to the fire to discuss our wine with comfort, +“what good wind has blown you down to me, my boy? for it’s odd +enough, five minutes before I heard the wheels on the gravel I was just wishing +some good fellow would join me at the grouse—and you see I have had my +wish! The old story, I suppose, ‘out of cash.’ Would not come down +here for nothing—eh? Come, lad, tell truth; is it not so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, not exactly, sir; but I really had rather at present talk about +you, than about my own matters, which we can chat over tomorrow. How do you get +on, sir, with the Scotch steward?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a rogue, sir—a cheat—a scoundrel; but it is the +same with them all; and your cousin, Harry—your cousin, that I have +reared from his infancy to be my heir, (pleasant topic for me!) he cares no +more for me than the rest of them, and would never come near me, if it were not +that, like yourself, he was hard run for money, and wanted to wheedle me out of +a hundred or two.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you forget, sir—I told you I have not come with such an +object.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll see that—we’ll see that in the morning,” +replied he, with an incredulous shake of the head. +</p> + +<p> +“But Guy, sir—what has Guy done?” +</p> + +<p> +“What has he not done? No sooner did he join that popinjay set of +fellows, the —th hussars, than he turned out, what he calls a four-in-hand +drag, which dragged nine hundred pounds out of my pocket—then he has got +a yacht at Cowes—a grouse mountain in Scotland—and has actually +given Tattersall an unlimited order to purchase the Wreckinton pack of +harriers, which he intends to keep for the use of the corps. In a word, there +is not an amusement of that villanous regiment, not a flask of champagne drank +at their mess, I don’t bear my share in the cost of; all through the kind +offices of your worthy cousin, Guy Lorrequer.” +</p> + +<p> +This was an exceedingly pleasant expose for me, to hear of my cousin indulged +in every excess of foolish extravagance by his rich uncle, while I, the son of +an elder brother who unfortunately called me by his own name, Harry, remained +the sub. in a marching regiment, with not three hundred pounds a year above my +pay, and whom any extravagance, if such had been proved against me would have +deprived of even that small allowance. My uncle however did not notice the +chagrin with which I heard his narrative, but continued to detail various +instances of wild and reckless expense the future possessor of his ample +property had already launched into. +</p> + +<p> +Anxious to say something without well-knowing what, I hinted that probably my +good cousin would reform some of these days, and marry. +</p> + +<p> +“Marry,” said my uncle; “yes, that, I believe, is the best +thing we can do with him; and I hope now the matter is in good train—so +the latest accounts say, at least.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, indeed,” said I, endeavouring to take an interest where I +really felt none—for my cousin and I had never been very intimate +friends, and the differences in our fortunes had not, at least to my thinking, +been compensated by any advances which he, under the circumstances, might have +made to me. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Harry, did you not hear of it?” said my uncle. +</p> + +<p> +“No—not a word, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very strange, indeed—a great match, Harry—a very great +match, indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some rich banker’s daughter,” thought I. “What will he +say when he hears of my fortune?” +</p> + +<p> +“A very fine young woman, too, I understand—quite the belle of +London—and a splendid property left by an aunt.” +</p> + +<p> +I was bursting to tell him of my affair, and that he had another nephew, to +whom if common justice were rendered, his fortune was as certainly made for +life. +</p> + +<p> +“Guy’s business happened this way,” continued my uncle, who +was quite engrossed by the thought of his favourite’s success. “The +father of the young lady met him in Ireland, or Scotland, or some such place, +where he was with his regiment—was greatly struck with his manner and +address—found him out to be my nephew—asked him to his +house—and, in fact, almost threw this lovely girl at his head before they +were two months acquainted.” +</p> + +<p> +“As nearly as possible my own adventure,” thought I, laughing to +myself. +</p> + +<p> +“But you have not told me who they are, sir,” said I, dying to have +his story finished, and to begin mine. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m coming to that—I’m coming to that. Guy came down +here, but did not tell me one word of his having ever met the family, but +begged me to give him an introduction to them, as they were in Paris, where he +was going on a short leave; and the first thing I heard of the matter was a +letter from the papa, demanding from me if Guy was to be my heir, and asking +‘how far his attentions in his family, met with my +approval.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Then how did you know sir that they were previously known to each +other?” +</p> + +<p> +“The family lawyer told me, who heard it all talked over.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why, then, did Guy get the letter of introduction from you, when he +was already acquainted with them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure I cannot tell, except that you know he always does every thing +unlike every one else, and to be sure the letter seems to have excited some +amusement. I must show you his answer to my first note to know how all was +going on; for I felt very anxious about matters, when I heard from some person +who had met them, that Guy was everlastingly in the house, and that Lord +Callonby could not live without him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord who, sir?” said I in a voice that made the old man upset his +glass, and spring from his chair in horror. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil is the matter with the boy. What makes you so +pale?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whose name did you say at that moment, sir,” said I with a +slowness of speech that cost me agony. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord Callonby, my old schoolfellow and fag at Eton.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the lady’s name, sir?” said I, in scarcely an audible +whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I forget her name; but here’s the letter from Guy, +and I think he mentions her name in the postscript.” +</p> + +<p> +I snatched rudely the half-opened letter from the old man, as he was vainly +endeavouring to detect the place he wanted, and read as follows: +</p> + +<p> +“My adored Jane is all your fondest wishes for my happiness could +picture, and longs to see her dear uncle, as she already calls you on every +occasion.” I read no more—my eyes swam—the paper, the +candles, every thing before me, was misty and confused; and although I heard my +uncle’s voice still going on, I knew nothing of what he said. +</p> + +<p> +For some time my mind could not take in the full extent of the base treachery I +had met with, and I sat speechless and stupified. By degrees my faculties +became clearer, and with one glance I read the whole business, from my first +meeting with them at Kilrush to the present moment. I saw that in their +attentions to me, they thought they were winning the heir of Elton, the future +proprietor of fifteen thousand per annum. From this tangled web of heartless +intrigue I turned my thoughts to Lady Jane herself. How had she betrayed me! +for certainly she had not only received, but encouraged my addresses—and +so soon, too.—To think that at the very moment when my own precipitate +haste to see her had involved me in a nearly fatal accident, she was actually +receiving the attentions of another! Oh, it was too, too bad. +</p> + +<p> +But enough—even now I can scarcely dwell upon the memory of that moment, +when the hopes and dreams of many a long day and night were destined to be thus +rudely blighted. I seized the first opportunity of bidding my uncle good night; +and having promised him to reveal all my plans on the morrow, hurried to my +room. +</p> + +<p> +My plans! alas, I had none—that one fatal paragraph had scattered them to +the winds; and I threw myself upon my bed, wretched and almost heart-broken. +</p> + +<p> +I have once before in these “Confessions” claimed to myself the +privilege, not inconsistent with a full disclosure of the memorabilia of my +life, to pass slightly over those passages, the burden of which was unhappy, +and whose memory is painful. I must now, therefore, claim the “benefit of +this act,” and beg of the reader to let me pass from this sad portion of +my history, and for the full expression of my mingled rage, contempt, +disappointment, and sorrow, let me beg of him to receive instead, what a +learned pope once gave as his apology for not reading a rather polysyllabic +word in a Latin letter—“As for this,” said he, looking at the +phrase in question, “soit qui’l dit,” so say I. And +now—en route. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch11" id="ch11"></a> CHAPTER XI.<br/> +CHELTENHAM—MATRIMONIAL ADVENTURE—SHOWING HOW TO MAKE LOVE FOR A +FRIEND.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus07"></a> +<a href="images/fig07.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig07.jpg" width="468" height="600" alt="Illustration: +Lorrequer Making His Escape From Col. Kamworth’s" /></a> +<p class="caption">Lorrequer Making His Escape From Col. Kamworth’s</p> +</div> + +<p> +It was a cold raw evening in February as I sat in the coffee-room of the Old +Plough in Cheltenham, “Lucullus c. Lucullo”—no companion save +my half-finished decanter of port. I had drawn my chair to the corner of the +ample fire-place, and in a half dreamy state was reviewing the incidents of my +early life, and like most men who, however young, have still to lament talents +misapplied, opportunities neglected, profitless labour, and disastrous +idleness. The dreary aspect of the large and ill-lighted room—the +close-curtained boxes—the unsocial look of every thing and body about +suited the habit of my soul, and I was on the verge of becoming excessively +sentimental—the unbroken silence, where several people were present, had +also its effect upon me, and I felt oppressed and dejected. So sat I for an +hour; the clock over the mantel ticked sharply on—the old man in the +brown surtout had turned in his chair, and now snored louder—the +gentleman who read the Times had got the Chronicle, and I thought I saw him +nodding over the advertisements. The father who, with a raw son of about +nineteen, had dined at six, sat still and motionless opposite his offspring, +and only breaking the silence around by the grating of the decanter as he +posted it across the table. The only thing denoting active existence was a +little, shrivelled man, who, with spectacles on his forehead, and hotel +slippers on his feet, rapidly walked up and down, occasionally stopping at his +table to sip a little weak-looking negus, which was his moderate potation for +two hours. I have been particular in chronicling these few and apparently +trivial circumstances, for by what mere trifles are our greatest and most +important movements induced—had the near wheeler of the Umpire been only +safe on his fore legs, and while I write this I might—but let me +continue. The gloom and melancholy which beset me, momentarily increased. But +three months before, and my prospects presented every thing that was fairest +and brightest—now all the future was dark and dismal. Then my best +friends could scarcely avoid envy at my fortune—now my reverses might +almost excite compassion even in an enemy. It was singular enough, and I should +not like to acknowledge it, were not these Confessions in their very nature +intended to disclose the very penetralia of my heart; but singular it certainly +was—and so I have always felt it since, when reflecting on it—that +although much and warmly attached to Lady Jane Callonby, and feeling most +acutely what I must call her abandonment of me, yet, the most constantly +recurring idea of my mind on the subject was, what will the mess say—what +will they think at head-quarters?—the raillery, the jesting, the +half-concealed allusion, the tone of assumed compassion, which all awaited me, +as each of my comrades took up his line of behaving towards me, was, after all, +the most difficult thing to be borne, and I absolutely dreaded to join my +regiment, more thoroughly than did ever schoolboy to return to his labour on +the expiration of his holidays. I had framed to myself all manner of ways of +avoiding this dread event; sometimes I meditated an exchange into an African +corps—sometimes to leave the army altogether. However, I turned the +affair over in my mind—innumerable difficulties presented themselves, and +I was at last reduced to that stand-still point, in which, after continual +vacillation, one only waits for the slightest impulse of persuasion from +another, to adopt any, no matter what suggestion. In this enviable frame of +mind I sat sipping my wine, and watching the clock for that hour at which, with +a safe conscience, I might retire to my bed, when the waiter roused me by +demanding if my name was Mr. Lorrequer, for that a gentleman having seen my +card in the bar, had been making inquiry for the owner of it all through the +hotel. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said I, “such is my name; but I am not acquainted with +any one here, that I can remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“The gentleman has only arrived an hour since by the London mail, sir, +and here he is.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, a tall, dashing-looking, half-swaggering fellow, in a very +sufficient envelope of box-coats, entered the coffee-room, and unwinding a +shawl from his throat, showed me the honest and manly countenance of my friend +Jack Waller, of the —th dragoons, with whom I had served in the +Peninsula. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes sufficed for Jack to tell me that he was come down on a bold +speculation at this unseasonable time for Cheltenham; that he was quite sure +his fortune was about to be made in a few weeks at farthest, and what seemed +nearly as engrossing a topic—that he was perfectly famished, and desired +a hot supper, “de suite.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack having despatched this agreeable meal with a traveller’s appetite, +proceeded to unfold his plans to me as follows: +</p> + +<p> +There resided somewhere near Cheltenham, in what direction he did not +absolutely know, an old East India colonel, who had returned from a long career +of successful staff-duties and government contracts, with the moderate fortune +of two hundred thousand. He possessed, in addition, a son and a daughter; the +former, being a rake and a gambler, he had long since consigned to his own +devices, and to the latter he had avowed his intention of leaving all his +wealth. That she was beautiful as an angel—highly +accomplished—gifted—agreeable—and all that, Jack, who had +never seen her, was firmly convinced; that she was also bent resolutely on +marrying him, or any other gentleman whose claims were principally the want of +money, he was quite ready to swear to; and, in fact, so assured did he feel +that “the whole affair was feasible,” (I use his own expression,) +that he had managed a two months’ leave, and was come down express to +see, make love to, and carry her off at once. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said I, with difficulty interrupting him, “how long +have you known her father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Known him? I never saw him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that certainly is cool; and how do you propose making his +acquaintance. Do you intend to make him a “particeps criminis” in +the elopement of his own daughter, for a consideration to be hereafter paid out +of his own money?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Harry, you’ve touched upon the point in which, you must +confess, my genius always stood unrivalled—acknowledge, if you are not +dead to gratitude—acknowledge how often should you have gone supperless +to bed in our bivouacs in the Peninsula, had it not been for the ingenuity of +your humble servant—avow, that if mutton was to be had, and beef to be +purloined, within a circuit of twenty miles round, our mess certainly kept no +fast days. I need not remind you of the cold morning on the retreat from +Burgos, when the inexorable Lake brought five men to the halberds for stealing +turkeys, that at the same moment, I was engaged in devising an ox-tail soup, +from a heifer brought to our tent in jack-boots the evening before, to escape +detection by her foot tracks.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, Jack, I never questioned your Spartan talent; but this affair, +time considered, does appear rather difficult.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if it were not, should I have ever engaged in it? No, no, Harry. I +put all proper value upon the pretty girl, with her two hundred thousand pounds +pin-money. But I honestly own to you, the intrigue, the scheme, has as great +charm for me as any part of the transaction.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Jack, now for the plan, then!” +</p> + +<p> +“The plan! oh, the plan. Why, I have several; but since I have seen you, +and talked the matter over with you, I have begun to think of a new mode of +opening the trenches.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I don’t see how I can possibly have admitted a single new ray +of light upon the affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are you quite wrong. Just hear me out without interruption, and +I’ll explain. I’ll first discover the locale of this worthy +colonel—‘Hydrabad Cottage’ he calls it; good, eh?—then +I shall proceed to make a tour of the immediate vicinity, and either be taken +dangerously ill in his grounds, within ten yards of the hall-door, or be thrown +from my gig at the gate of his avenue, and fracture my skull; I don’t +much care which. Well, then, as I learn that the old gentleman is the most +kind, hospitable fellow in the world, he’ll admit me at once; his +daughter will tend my sick couch—nurse—read to me; glorious fun, +Harry. I’ll make fierce love to her; and now, the only point to be +decided is whether, having partaken of the colonel’s hospitality so +freely, I ought to carry her off, or marry her with papa’s consent. You +see there is much to be said for either line of proceeding.” +</p> + +<p> +“I certainly agree with you there; but since you seem to see your way so +clearly up to that point, why, I should advise you leaving that an ‘open +question,’ as the ministers say, when they are hard pressed for an +opinion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Harry, I consent; it shall remain so. Now for your part, for I +have not come to that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine,” said I, in amazement; “why how can I possibly have +any character assigned to me in the drama?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you, Harry, you shall come with me in the gig in the +capacity of my valet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your what?” said I, horror-struck at his impudence. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, no nonsense, Harry, you’ll have a glorious time of +it—shall choose as becoming a livery as you like—and you’ll +have the whole female world below stairs dying for you; and all I ask for such +an opportunity vouchsafed to you is to puff me, your master, in every possible +shape and form, and represent me as the finest and most liberal fellow in the +world, rolling in wealth, and only striving to get rid of it.” +</p> + +<p> +The unparalleled effrontery of Master Jack, in assigning to me such an office, +absolutely left me unable to reply to him; while he continued to expatiate upon +the great field for exertion thus open to us both. At last it occurred to me to +benefit by an anecdote of a something similar arrangement, of capturing, not a +young lady, but a fortified town, by retorting Jack’s proposition. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said I, “I agree, with one only +difference—I’ll be the master and you the man on this +occasion.” +</p> + +<p> +To my utter confusion, and without a second’s consideration, Waller +grasped my hand, and cried, “done.” Of course I laughed heartily at +the utter absurdity of the whole scheme, and rallied my friend on his prospects +of Botany Bay for such an exploit; never contemplating in the most remote +degree the commission of such extravagance. +</p> + +<p> +Upon this Jack, to use the expressive French phrase, “pris la +parole,” touching with a master-like delicacy on my late defeat among the +Callonbys, (which up to this instant I believed him in ignorance of;) he +expatiated upon the prospect of my repairing that misfortune, and obtaining a +fortune considerably larger; he cautiously abstained from mentioning the +personal charms of the young lady, supposing, from my lachrymose look, that my +heart had not yet recovered the shock of Lady Jane’s perfidy, and rather +preferred to dwell upon the escape such a marriage could open to me from the +mockery of the mess-table, the jesting of my brother officers, and the +life-long raillery of the service, wherever the story reached. +</p> + +<p> +The fatal facility of my disposition, so often and so frankly chronicled in +these Confessions—the openness to be led whither any one might take the +trouble to conduct me—the easy indifference to assume any character which +might be pressed upon me, by chance, accident, or design, assisted by my share +of three flasks of champagne, induced me first to listen—then to attend +to—soon after to suggest—and finally, absolutely to concur in and +agree to a proposal, which, at any other moment, I must have regarded as +downright insanity. As the clock struck two, I had just affixed my name to an +agreement, for Jack Waller had so much of method in his madness, that, fearful +of my retracting in the morning, he had committed the whole to writing, which, +as a specimen of Jack’s legal talents I copy from the original document +now in my posession. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“The Plough, Cheltenham, Tuesday night or morning, two +o’clock—be the same more or less. I, Harry Lorrequer, sub. in his +Majesty’s —th regiment of foot, on the one part; and I, John +Waller, commonly called Jack Waller, of the —th light dragoons on the +other; hereby promise and agree, each for himself, and not one for the other, +to the following conditions, which are hereafter subjoined, to wit, the +aforesaid Jack Waller is to serve, obey, and humbly follow the aforementioned +Harry Lorrequer, for the space of one month of four weeks; conducting himself +in all respects, modes, ways, manners, as his, the aforesaid Lorrequer’s +own man, skip, valet, or saucepan—duly praising, puffing, and lauding the +aforesaid Lorrequer, and in every way facilitating his success to the hand and +fortune of—” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we put in her name, Harry, here?” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“I think not; we’ll fill it up in pencil; that looks very +knowing.” +</p> + +<p> +“—at the end of which period, if successful in his suit, the +aforesaid Harry Lorrequer is to render to the aforesaid Waller the sum of ten +thousand pounds three and a half per cent. with a faithful discharge in writing +for his services, as may be. If, on the other hand, and which heaven forbid, +the aforesaid Lorrequer fail in obtaining the hand of ——, that he +will evacuate the territory within twelve hours, and repairing to a convenient +spot selected by the aforesaid Waller, then and there duly invest himself with +a livery chosen by the aforesaid Waller—” +</p> + +<p> +“You know, each man uses his choice in this particular,” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“—and for the space of four calendar weeks, be unto the aforesaid +Waller, as his skip, or valet, receiving, in the event of success, the like +compensation, as aforesaid, each promising strictly to maintain the terms of +this agreement, and binding, by a solemn pledge, to divest himself of every +right appertaining to his former condition, for the space of time there +mentioned.” +</p> + +<p> +We signed and sealed it formally, and finished another flask to its perfect +ratification. This done, and after a hearty shake hands, we parted and retired +for the night. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing I saw on waking the following morning was Jack Waller standing +beside my bed, evidently in excellent spirits with himself and all the world. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry, my boy, I have done it gloriously,” said he. “I only +remembered on parting with you last night, that one of the most marked features +in our old colonel’s character is a certain vague idea, he has somewhere +picked up, that he has been at some very remote period of his history a most +distinguished officer. This notion, it appears, haunts his mind, and he +absolutely believes he has been in every engagement from the seven years war, +down to the Battle of Waterloo. You cannot mention a siege he did not lay down +the first parallel for, nor a storming party where he did not lead the forlorn +hope; and there is not a regiment in the service, from those that formed the +fighting brigade of Picton, down to the London trainbands, with which, to use +his own phrase, he has not fought and bled. This mania of heroism is droll +enough, when one considers that the sphere of his action was necessarily so +limited; but yet we have every reason to be thankful for the peculiarity, as +you’ll say, when I inform you that this morning I despatched a hasty +messenger to his villa, with a most polite note, setting forth that a Mr. +Lorrequer—ay, Harry, all above board—there is nothing like +it—‘as Mr. Lorrequer, of the —th, was collecting for +publication, such materials as might serve to commemorate the distinguished +achievements of British officers, who have, at any time, been in +command—he most respectfully requests an interview with Colonel Kamworth, +whose distinguished services, on many gallant occasions, have called forth the +unqualified approval of his majesty’s government. Mr. Lorrequer’s +stay is necessarily limited to a few days, as he proceeds from this to visit +Lord Anglesey; and, therefore, would humbly suggest as early a meeting as may +suit Colonel K.’s convenience.’ What think you now? Is this a +master-stroke or not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, certainly, we are in for it now,” said I, drawing a deep +sigh. “But Jack, what is all this? Why, you’re in livery +already.” +</p> + +<p> +I now, for the first time, perceived that Waller was arrayed in a very decorous +suit of dark grey, with cord shorts and boots, and looked a very knowing style +of servant for the side of a tilbury. +</p> + +<p> +“You like it, don’t you? Well, I should have preferred something a +little more showy myself; but as you chose this last night, I, of course, gave +way, and after all, I believe you’re right, it certainly is neat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I choose it last night? I have not the slightest recollection of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you were most particular about the length of the waistcoat, and the +height of the cockade, and you see I have followed your orders tolerably close; +and now, adieu to sweet equality for the season, and I am your most obedient +servant for four weeks—see that you make the most of it.” +</p> + +<p> +While we were talking, the waiter entered with a note addressed to me, which I +rightly conjectured could only come from Colonel Kamworth. It ran thus— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Colonel Kamworth feels highly flattered by the polite attention of Mr. +Lorrequer, and will esteem it a particular favour if Mr. L. can afford him the +few days his stay in this part of the country will permit, by spending them at +Hydrabad Cottage. Any information as to Colonel Kamworth’s services in +the four quarters of the globe, he need not say, is entirely at Mr. L.’s +disposal.<br/> + “Colonel K. dines at six precisely.” +</p> + +<p> +When Waller had read the note through, he tossed his hat up in the air, and, +with something little sort of an Indian whoop, shouted out— +</p> + +<p> +“The game is won already. Harry, my man, give me the check for the ten +thousand: she is your own this minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Without participating entirely in Waller’s exceeding delight, I could not +help feeling a growing interest in the part I was advertised to perform, and +began my rehearsal with more spirit than I thought I should have been able to +command. +</p> + +<p> +That same evening, at the same hour as that in which on the preceding I sat +lone and comfortless by the coffee-room fire, I was seated opposite a very +pompous, respectable-looking old man, with a large, stiff queue of white hair, +who pressed me repeatedly to fill my glass and pass the decanter. The room was +a small library, with handsomely fitted shelves; there were but four chairs, +but each would have made at least three of any modern one; the curtains of deep +crimson cloth effectually secured the room from draught; and the cheerful wood +fire blazing on the hearth, which was the only light in the apartment, gave a +most inviting look of comfort and snugness to every thing. This, thought I, is +all excellent; and however the adventure ends, this is certainly pleasant, and +I never tasted better Madeira. +</p> + +<p> +“And so, Mr. Lorrequer, you heard of my affair at Cantantrabad, when I +took the Rajah prisoner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said I; “the governor-general mentioned the gallant +business the very last time I dined at Government-House.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, did he? kind of him though. Well, sir, I received two millions of +rupees on the morning after, and a promise of ten more if I would permit him to +escape—but no—I refused flatly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it possible; and what did you do with the two millions?—sent +them, of course—.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, that I didn’t; the wretches know nothing of the use of money. +No, no; I have them this moment in good government security. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I never mentioned to you the storming of Java. Fill yourself +another glass, and I’ll describe it all to you, for it will be of +infinite consequence that a true narrative of this meets the public +eye—they really are quite ignorant of it. Here now is Fort Cornelius, and +there is the moat, the sugar-basin is the citadel, and the tongs is the first +trench, the decanter will represent the tall tower towards the south-west +angle, and here, the wine glass—this is me. Well, it was a little after +ten at night that I got the order from the general in command to march upon +this plate of figs, which was an open space before Fort Cornelius, and to take +up my position in front of the fort, and with four pieces of field +artillery—these walnuts here—to be ready to open my fire at a +moment’s warning upon the sou-west tower; but, my dear sir, you have +moved the tower; I thought you were drinking Madeira. As I said before, to open +my fire upon the sou-west tower, or if necessary protect the sugar tongs, which +I explained to you was the trench. Just at the same time the besieged were +making preparations for a sortie to occupy this dish of almonds and +raisins—the high ground to the left of my position—put another log +on the fire, if you please, sir, for I cannot see myself—I thought I was +up near the figs, and I find myself down near the half moon.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is past nine,” said a servant entering the room; “shall I +take the carriage for Miss Kamworth, sir?” This being the first time the +name of the young lady was mentioned since my arrival, I felt somewhat anxious +to hear more of her, in which laudable desire I was not however to be +gratified, for the colonel, feeling considerably annoyed by the interruption, +dismissed the servant by saying— +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, sirrah, by coming in at this moment; don’t you +see I am preparing for the attack on the half moon? Mr. Lorrequer, I beg your +pardon for one moment, this fellow has completely put me out; and besides, I +perceive, you have eaten the flying artillery, and in fact, my dear sir, I +shall be obliged to lay down the position again.” +</p> + +<p> +With this praiseworthy interest the colonel proceeded to arrange the +“materiel” of our dessert in battle array, when the door was +suddenly thrown open, and a very handsome girl, in a most becoming demi +toilette, sprung into the room, and either not noticing, or not caring, that a +stranger was present, threw herself into the old gentleman’s arms, with a +degree of empressement, exceedingly vexatious for any third and unoccupied +party to witness. +</p> + +<p> +“Mary, my dear,” said the colonel, completely forgetting Java and +Fort Cornelius at once, “you don’t perceive I have a gentleman to +introduce to you, Mr. Lorrequer, my daughter, Miss Kamworth,” here the +young lady courtesied somewhat stiffly, and I bowed reverently; and we all +resumed places. I now found out that Miss Kamworth had been spending the +preceding four or five days at a friend’s in the neighbourhood; and had +preferred coming home somewhat unexpectedly, to waiting for her own carriage. +</p> + +<p> +My confessions, if recorded verbatim, from the notes of that four weeks’ +sojourn, would only increase the already too prolix and uninteresting details +of this chapter in my life; I need only say, that without falling in love with +Mary Kamworth, I felt prodigiously disposed thereto; she was extremely pretty; +had a foot and ancle to swear by, the most silvery toned voice I almost ever +heard, and a certain witchery and archness of manner that by its very +tantalizing uncertainty continually provoked attention, and by suggesting a +difficulty in the road to success, imparted a more than common zest in the +pursuit. She was little, a very little blue, rather a dabbler in the +“ologies,” than a real disciple. Yet she made collections of +minerals, and brown beetles, and cryptogamias, and various other homeopathic +doses of the creation, infinitessimally small in their subdivision; in none of +which I felt any interest, save in the excuse they gave for accompanying her in +her pony-phaeton. This was, however, a rare pleasure, for every morning for at +least three or four hours I was obliged to sit opposite the colonel, engaged in +the compilation of that narrative of his “res gestae,” which was to +eclipse the career of Napoleon and leave Wellington’s laurels but a very +faded lustre in comparison. In this agreeable occupation did I pass the greater +part of my day, listening to the insufferable prolixity of the most prolix of +colonels, and at times, notwithstanding the propinquity of relationship which +awaited us, almost regretting that he was not blown up in any of the numerous +explosions his memoir abounded with. I may here mention, that while my literary +labour was thus progressing, the young lady continued her avocations as +before—not indeed with me for her companion—but Waller; for Colonel +Kamworth, “having remarked the steadiness and propriety of my man, felt +no scruple in sending him out to drive Miss Kamworth,” particularly as I +gave him a most excellent character for every virtue under heaven. +</p> + +<p> +I must hasten on.—The last evening of my four weeks was drawing to a +close. Colonel Kamworth had pressed me to prolong my visit, and I only waited +for Waller’s return from Cheltenham, whither I had sent him for my +letters, to make arrangements with him to absolve me from my ridiculous bond, +and accept the invitation. We were sitting round the library fire, the colonel, +as usual, narrating his early deeds and hair-breadth ‘scapes. Mary, +embroidering an indescribable something, which every evening made its +appearance but seemed never to advance, was rather in better spirits than +usual, at the same time her manner was nervous and uncertain; and I could +perceive by her frequent absence of mind, that her thoughts were not as much +occupied by the siege of Java as her worthy father believed them. Without +laying any stress upon the circumstance, I must yet avow that Waller’s +not having returned from Cheltenham gave me some uneasiness, and I more than +once had recourse to the bell to demand if “my servant had come back +yet?” At each of these times I well remember the peculiar expression of +Mary’s look, the half embarrassment, half drollery, with which she +listened to the question, and heard the answer in the negative. Supper at +length made its appearance; and I asked the servant who waited, “if my +man had brought me any letters,” varying my inquiry to conceal my +anxiety; and again, I heard he had not returned. Resolving now to propose in +all form for Miss Kamworth the next morning, and by referring the colonel to my +uncle Sir Guy, smooth, as far as I could, all difficulties, I wished them good +night and retired; not, however, before the colonel had warned me that they +were to have an excursion to some place in the neighbourhood the next day; and +begging that I might be in the breakfast-room at nine, as they were to assemble +there from all parts, and start early on the expedition. I was in a sound sleep +the following morning, when a gentle tap at the door awoke me; at the same time +I recognised the voice of the colonel’s servant, saying, “Mr. +Lorrequer, breakfast is waiting, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +I sprung up at once, and replying, “Very well, I shall come down,” +proceeded to dress in all haste, but to my horror, I could not discern a +vestige of my clothes; nothing remained of the habiliments I possessed only the +day before—even my portmanteau had disappeared. After a most diligent +search, I discovered on a chair in a corner of the room, a small bundle tied up +in a handkerchief, on opening which I perceived a new suit of livery of the +most gaudy and showy description and lace; of which colour was also the coat, +which had a standing collar and huge cuffs, deeply ornamented with worked +button holes and large buttons. As I turned the things over, without even a +guess of what they could mean, for I was scarcely well awake, I perceived a +small slip of paper fastened to the coat sleeve, upon which, in Waller’s +hand-writing, the following few words were written: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“The livery I hope will fit you, as I am rather particular about how +you’ll look; get quietly down to the stable-yard and drive the tilbury +into Cheltenham, where wait for further orders from your kind master, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“John Waller.” +</p> + +<p> +The horrible villany of this wild scamp actually paralysed me. That I should +put on such ridiculous trumpery was out of the question; yet what was to be +done? I rung the bell violently; “Where are my clothes, Thomas?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know, sir; I was out all the morning, sir, and never seed +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“There, Thomas, be smart now and send them up, will you?” Thomas +disappeared, and speedily returned to say, “that my clothes could not be +found any where; no one knew any thing of them, and begged me to come down, as +Miss Kamworth desired him to say that they were still waiting, and she begged +Mr. Lorrequer would not make an elaborate toilette, as they were going on a +country excursion.” An elaborate toilette! I wish to heaven she saw my +costume; no, I’ll never do it. “Thomas, you must tell the ladies +and the colonel, too, that I feel very ill; I am not able to leave my bed; I am +subject to attacks—very violent attacks in my head, and must always be +left quiet and alone—perfectly alone—mind me, Thomas—for a +day at least.” Thomas departed; and as I lay distracted in my bed, I +heard, from the breakfast room, the loud laughter of many persons evidently +enjoying some excellent joke; could it be me they were laughing at; the thought +was horrible. +</p> + +<p> +“Colonel Kamworth wishes to know if you’d like the doctor, +sir,” said Thomas, evidently suppressing a most inveterate fit of +laughing, as he again appeared at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“No, certainly not,” said I, in a voice of thunder; “what the +devil are you grinning at?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may as well come, my man; you’re found out; they all know it +now,” said the fellow with an odious grin. +</p> + +<p> +I jumped out of the bed, and hurled the boot-jack at him with all my strength; +but had only the satisfaction to hear him go down stairs chuckling at his +escape; and as he reached the parlour, the increase of mirth and the loudness +of the laughter told me that he was not the only one who was merry at my +expense. Any thing was preferable to this; down stairs I resolved to go at +once—but how; a blanket I thought would not be a bad thing, and +particularly as I had said I was ill; I could at least get as far as Colonel +Kamworth’s dressing-room, and explain to him the whole affair; but then +if I was detected en route, which I was almost sure to be, with so many people +parading about the house. No; that would never do, there was but one +alternative, and dreadful, shocking as it was, I could not avoid it, and with a +heavy heart, and as much indignation at Waller for what I could not but +consider a most scurvy trick, I donned the yellow inexpressibles; next came the +vest, and last the coat, with its broad flaps and lace excrescenses, fifty +times more absurd and merry-andrew than any stage servant who makes off with +his table and two chairs amid the hisses and gibes of an upper gallery. +</p> + +<p> +If my costume leaned towards the ridiculous, I resolved that my air and bearing +should be more than usually austere and haughty; and with something of the +stride of John Kemble in Coriolanus, I was leaving my bed-room, when I +accidentally caught a view of myself in the glass; and so mortified, so shocked +was I, that I sank into a chair, and almost abandoned my resolution to go on; +the very gesture I had assumed for vindication only increased the ridicule of +my appearance; and the strange quaintness of the costume totally obliterated +every trace of any characteristic of the wearer, so infernally cunning was its +contrivance. I don’t think that the most saturnine martyr of gout and +dyspepsia could survey me without laughing. With a bold effort, I flung open my +door, hurried down the stairs, and reached the hall. The first person I met was +a kind of pantry boy, a beast only lately emancipated from the plough, and +destined after a dozen years’ training as a servant, again to be turned +back to his old employ for incapacity; he grinned horribly for a minute, as I +passed, and then in a half whisper said— +</p> + +<p> +“Maester, I advise ye run for it; they’re a waiting for ye with the +constables in the justice’s room!” I gave him a look of +contemptuous superiority at which he grinned the more, and passed on. +</p> + +<p> +Without stopping to consider where I was going, I opened the door of the +breakfast-parlour, and found myself in one plunge among a room full of people. +My first impulse was to retreat again; but so shocked was I, at the very first +thing that met my sight, that I was perfectly powerless to do any thing. Among +a considerable number of people who stood in small groups round the +breakfast-table, I discerned Jack Waller, habited in a very accurate black +frock and dark trowsers, supporting upon his arm—shall I confess—no +less a person than Mary Kamworth, who leaned on him with the familiarity of an +old acquaintance, and chatted gaily with him. The buzz of conversation which +filled the apartment when I entered, ceased for a second of deep silence; and +then followed a peal of laughter so long and so vociferous, that in my +momentary anger I prayed some one might burst a blood-vessel, and frighten the +rest. I put on a look of indescribable indignation, and cast a glance of what I +intended should be most withering scorn on the assembly; but alas! my infernal +harlequin costume ruined the effect; and confound me, if they did not laugh the +louder. I turned from one to the other with the air of a man who marks out +victims for his future wrath; but with no better success; at last, amid the +continued mirth of the party, I made my way towards where Waller stood +absolutely suffocated with laughter, and scarcely able to stand without +support. +</p> + +<p> +“Waller,” said I, in a voice half tremulous with rage and shame +together; “Waller, if this rascally trick be yours, rest assured no +former term of intimacy between us shall—” +</p> + +<p> +Before I could conclude the sentence, a bustle at the door of the room, called +every attention in that direction; I turned and beheld Colonel Kamworth, +followed by a strong posse comitatus of constables, tipstaffs, &c., armed +to the teeth, and evidently prepared for vigorous battle. Before I was able to +point out my woes to my kind host, he burst out with— +</p> + +<p> +“So you scoundrel, you impostor, you damned young villain, pretending to +be a gentleman, you get admission into a man’s house and dine at his +table, when your proper place had been behind his chair.—How far he might +have gone, heaven can tell, if that excellent young gentleman, his master, had +not traced him here this morning—but you’ll pay dearly for it, you +young rascal, that you shall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Colonel Kamworth,” said I, drawing myself proudly up, (and I +confess exciting new bursts of laughter,) “Colonel Kamworth, for the +expressions you have just applied to me, a heavy reckoning awaits you; not, +however, before another individual now present shall atone for the insult he +has dared to pass upon me.” Colonel Kamworth’s passion at this +declaration knew no bounds; he cursed and swore absolutely like a madman, and +vowed that transportation for life would be a mild sentence for such iniquity. +</p> + +<p> +Waller at length wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, interposed between +the colonel and his victim, and begged that I might be forgiven; “for +indeed my dear sir,” said he, “the poor fellow is of rather +respectable parentage, and such is his taste for good society that he’d +run any risk to be among his betters, although, as in the present case the +exposure brings a rather heavy retribution, however, let me deal with him. +Come, Henry,” said he, with an air of insufferable superiority, +“take my tilbury into town, and wait for me at the George, I shall +endeavour to make your peace with my excellent friend, Colonel Kamworth; and +the best mode you can contribute to that object, is to let us have no more of +your society.” +</p> + +<p> +I cannot attempt to picture my rage at these words; however, escape from this +diabolical predicament was my only present object; and I rushed from the room, +and springing into the tilbury at the door, drove down the avenue at the rate +of fifteen miles per hour, amid the united cheers, groans, and yells of the +whole servants’ hall, who seemed to enjoy my “detection,” +even more than their betters. Meditating vengeance, sharp, short, and decisive +on Waller, the colonel, and every one else in the infernal conspiracy against +me, for I utterly forgot every vestige of our agreement in the surprise by +which I was taken, I reached Cheltenham. Unfortunately I had no friend there to +whose management I could commit the bearing of a message, and was obliged as +soon as I could procure suitable costume, to hasten up to Coventry where the +—th dragoons were then quartered. I lost no time in selecting an adviser, +and taking the necessary steps to bring Master Waller to a reckoning; and on +the third morning we again reached Cheltenham, I thirsting for vengeance, and +bursting still with anger; not so, my friend, however, who never could discuss +the affair with common gravity, and even ventured every now and then on a sly +allusion to my yellow shorts. As we passed the last toll-bar, a travelling +carriage came whirling by with four horses at a tremendous pace; and as the +morning was frosty, and the sun scarcely risen, the whole team were smoking and +steaming so as to be half invisible. We both remarked on the precipitancy of +the party; for as our own pace was considerable, the two vehicles passed like +lightning. We had scarcely dressed, and ordered breakfast, when a more than +usual bustle in the yard called us to the window; the waiter who came in at the +same instant told us that four horses were ordered out to pursue a young lady +who had eloped that morning with an officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, our friend in the green travelling chariot, I’ll be +bound,” said my companion; but as neither of us knew that part of the +country, and I was too engrossed by my own thoughts, I never inquired further. +As the chaise in chase drove round to the door, I looked to see what the +pursuer was like; and as he issued from the inn, recognised my “ci devant +host,” Colonel Kamworth. I need not say my vengeance was sated at once; +he had lost his daughter, and Waller was on the road to be married. Apologies +and explanations came in due time, for all my injuuries and sufferings; and I +confess, the part which pleased me most was, that I saw no more of Jack for a +considerable period after; he started for the continent, where he has lived +ever since on a small allowance, granted by his father-in-law, and never paying +me the stipulated sum, as I had clearly broken the compact. +</p> + +<p> +So much for my second attempt at matrimony; one would suppose that such +experience should be deemed sufficient to show that my talent did not lie in +that way. And here I must rest for the present, with the additional confession, +that so strong was the memory of that vile adventure, that I refused a +lucrative appointment under Lord Anglesey’s government, when I discovered +that his livery included “yellow plush breeches;” to have such +“souvenirs” flitting around and about me, at dinner and elsewhere, +would have left me without a pleasure in existence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch12" id="ch12"></a> CHAPTER XII.<br/> +DUBLIN—TOM O’FLAHERTY—A REMINISCENCE OF THE PENINSULA.</h2> + +<p> +Dear, dirty Dublin—“Io te salute”—how many excellent +things might be said of thee, if, unfortunately, it did not happen that the +theme is an old one, and has been much better sung than it can ever now be +said. With thus much of apology for no more lengthened panegyric, let me beg of +my reader, if he be conversant with that most moving melody—the Groves of +Blarney—to hum the following lines, which I heard shortly after my +landing, and which well express my own feelings for the “loved +spot.” +</p> + +<p class="poem">Oh! Dublin, sure, there is no doubtin’,<br/> + Beats every city upon the <i>say</i>.<br/> +’Tis there you’ll see O’Connell spouting,<br/> + And Lady Morgan making “<i>tay</i>.”<br/> +For ’tis the capital of the greatest nation<br/> + With finest peasantry on a fruitful sod,<br/> +Fighting like devils for conciliation,<br/> + And hating each other for the love of God. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Once more, then, I found myself in the “most car-drivingest city,” +en route to join on the expiration of my leave. Since my departure, my regiment +had been ordered to Kilkenny, that sweet city, so famed in song for its +“fire without smoke;” but which, were its character in any way to +be derived from its past or present representative, might certainly, with more +propriety, reverse the epithet, and read “smoke without fire.” My +last communication from head-quarters was full of nothing but gay +doings—balls, dinners, dejeunes, and more than all, private theatricals, +seemed to occupy the entire attention of every man of the gallant —th. I +was earnestly entreated to come, without waiting for the end of my +leave—that several of my old “parts were kept open for me;” +and that, in fact, the “boys of Kilkenny” were on tip-toe in +expectation of my arrival, as though his Majesty’s mail were to convey a +Kean or a Kemble. I shuddered a little as I read this, and recollected +“my last appearance on any stage,” little anticipating, at the +moment, that my next was to be nearly as productive of the ludicrous, as time +and my confessions will show. One circumstance, however, gave me considerable +pleasure. It was this:—I took it for granted that, in the varied and +agreeable occupations which so pleasurable a career opened, my adventures in +love would escape notice, and that I should avoid the merciless raillery my two +failures, in six months, might reasonably be supposed to call forth. I +therefore wrote a hurried note to Curzon, setting forth the great interest all +their proceedings had for me, and assuring him that my stay in town should be +as short as possible, for that I longed once more to “strut the monarch +of the boards,” and concluded with a sly paragraph, artfully intended to +act as a “paratonnere” to the gibes and jests which I dreaded, by +endeavouring to make light of my matrimonial speculations. The postscript ran +somewhat thus—“Glorious fun have I had since we met; but were it +not that my good angel stood by me, I should write these hurried lines with a +wife at my elbow; but luck, that never yet deserted, is still faithful to your +old friend, H. Lorrequer.” +</p> + +<p> +My reader may suppose—for he is sufficiently behind the scenes with +me—with what feelings I penned these words; yet any thing was better than +the attack I looked forward to: and I should rather have changed into the Cape +Rifle Corps, or any other army of martyrs, than meet my mess with all the +ridicule my late proceedings exposed me to. Having disburthened my conscience +of this dread, I finished my breakfast, and set out on a stroll through the +town. +</p> + +<p> +I believe it is Coleridge who somewhere says, that to transmit the first bright +and early impressions of our youth, fresh and uninjured to a remote period of +life, constitutes one of the loftiest prerogatives of genius. If this be true, +and I am not disposed to dispute it—what a gifted people must be the +worthy inhabitants of Dublin; for I scruple not to affirm, that of all cities +of which we have any record in history, sacred or profane, there is not one so +little likely to disturb the tranquil current of such reminiscences. “As +it was of old, so is it now,” enjoying a delightful permanency in all its +habits and customs, which no changes elsewhere disturb or affect; and in this +respect I defy O’Connell and all the tail to refuse it the epithet of +“Conservative.” +</p> + +<p> +Had the excellent Rip Van Winkle, instead of seeking his repose upon the cold +and barren acclivities of the Kaatskills—as we are veritably informed by +Irving—but betaken himself to a comfortable bed at Morrison’s or +the Bilton, not only would he have enjoyed a more agreeable siesta, but, what +the event showed of more consequence, the pleasing satisfaction of not being +disconcerted by novelty on his awakening. It is possible that the waiter who +brought him the water to shave, for Rip’s beard, we are told, had grown +uncommonly long—might exhibit a little of that wear and tear to which +humanity is liable from time; but had he questioned him as to the ruling +topics—the proper amusements of the day—he would have heard, as he +might have done twenty years before, that there was a meeting to convert Jews +at the Rotunda; another to rob parsons at the Corn Exchange; that the Viceroy +was dining with the Corporation, and congratulating them on the prosperity of +Ireland, while the inhabitants were regaled with a procession of the +“broad ribbon weavers,” who had not weaved, heaven knows when! +This, with an occasional letter from Mr. O’Connell, and now and then a +duel in the “Phaynix,” constituted the current pastimes of the +city. Such, at least, were they in my day; and though far from the dear locale, +an odd flitting glance at the newspapers induces me to believe that matters are +not much changed since. +</p> + +<p> +I rambled through the streets for some hours, revolving such thoughts as +pressed upon me involuntarily by all I saw. The same little grey homunculus +that filled my “prince’s mixture” years before, stood behind +the counter at Lundy Foot’s, weighing out rappee and high toast, just as +I last saw him. The fat college porter, that I used to mistake in my school-boy +days for the Provost, God forgive me! was there as fat and as ruddy as +heretofore, and wore his Roman costume of helmet and plush breeches, with an +air as classic. The old state trumpeter at the castle, another object of my +youthful veneration, poor “old God save the King” as we used to +call him, walked the streets as of old; his cheeks indeed, a little more lanky +and tendinous; but then there had been many viceregal changes, and the +“one sole melody his heart delighted in,” had been more frequently +called in requisition, as he marched in solemn state with the other antique +gentlemen in tabards. As I walked along, each moment some old and early +association being suggested by the objects around, I felt my arm suddenly +seized. I turned hastily round, and beheld a very old companion in many a +hard-fought field and merry bivouack, Tom O’Flaherty of the 8th. Poor Tom +was sadly changed since we last met, which was at a ball in Madrid. He was then +one of the best-looking fellows of his “style” I ever +met,—tall and athletic, with the easy bearing of a man of the world, and +a certain jauntiness that I have never seen but in Irishmen who have mixed much +in society. +</p> + +<p> +There was also a certain peculiar devil-may-care recklessness about the +self-satisfied swagger of his gait, and the free and easy glance of his sharp +black eye, united with a temper that nothing could ruffle, and a courage +nothing could daunt. With such qualities as these, he had been the prime +favourite of his mess, to which he never came without some droll story to +relate, or some choice expedient for future amusement. Such had Tom once been; +now he was much altered, and though the quiet twinkle of his dark eye showed +that the spirit of fun within was not “dead, but only +sleeping,”—to myself, who knew something of his history, it seemed +almost cruel to awaken him to any thing which might bring him back to the +memory of by-gone days. A momentary glance showed me that he was no longer what +he had been, and that the unfortunate change in his condition, the loss of all +his earliest and oldest associates, and his blighted prospects, had nearly +broken a heart that never deserted a friend, nor quailed before an enemy. Poor +O’Flaherty was no more the delight of the circle he once adorned; the wit +that “set the table in a roar” was all but departed. He had been +dismissed the service!!—The story is a brief one:— +</p> + +<p> +In the retreat from Burgos, the —— Light Dragoons, after a most +fatiguing day’s march, halted at the wretched village of Cabenas. It had +been deserted by the inhabitants the day before, who, on leaving, had set it on +fire; and the blackened walls and fallen roof-trees were nearly all that now +remained to show where the little hamlet had once stood. +</p> + +<p> +Amid a down-pour of rain, that had fallen for several hours, drenched to the +skin, cold, weary, and nearly starving, the gallant 8th reached this melancholy +spot at nightfall, with little better prospect of protection from the storm +than the barren heath through which their road led might afford them. Among the +many who muttered curses, not loud but deep, on the wretched termination to +their day’s suffering, there was one who kept up his usual good spirits, +and not only seemed himself nearly regardless of the privations and miseries +about him, but actually succeeded in making the others who rode alongside as +perfectly forgetful of their annoyances and troubles as was possible under such +circumstances. Good stories, joking allusions to the more discontented ones of +the party, ridiculous plans for the night’s encampment, followed each +other so rapidly, that the weariness of the way was forgotten; and while some +were cursing their hard fate, that ever betrayed them into such misfortunes, +the little group round O’Flaherty were almost convulsed with laughter at +the wit and drollery of one, over whom if the circumstances had any influence, +they seemed only to heighten his passion for amusement. In the early part of +the morning he had captured a turkey, which hung gracefully from his holster on +one side, while a small goat-skin of Valencia wine balanced it on the other. +These good things were destined to form a feast that evening, to which he had +invited four others; that being, according to his most liberal calculation, the +greatest number to whom he could afford a reasonable supply of wine. +</p> + +<p> +When the halt was made, it took some time to arrange the dispositions for the +night; and it was nearly midnight before all the regiment had got their billets +and were housed, even with such scanty accommodation as the place afforded. +Tom’s guests had not yet arrived, and he himself was busily engaged in +roasting the turkey before a large fire, on which stood a capacious vessel of +spiced wine, when the party appeared. A very cursory +“reconnaissance” through the house, one of the only ones untouched +in the village, showed that from the late rain it would be impossible to think +of sleeping in the lower story, which already showed signs of being flooded; +they therefore proceeded in a body up stairs, and what was their delight to +find a most comfortable room, neatly furnished with chairs, and a table; but, +above all, a large old-fashioned bed, an object of such luxury as only an old +campaigner can duly appreciate. The curtains were closely tucked in all round, +and, in their fleeting and hurried glance, they felt no inclination to disturb +them, and rather proceeded to draw up the table before the hearth, to which +they speedily removed the fire from below; and, ere many minutes, with that +activity which a bivouack life invariably teaches, their supper smoked before +them, and five happier fellows did not sit down that night within a large +circuit around. Tom was unusually great; stories of drollery unlocked before, +poured from him unceasingly, and what with his high spirits to excite them, and +the reaction inevitable after a hard day’s severe march, the party soon +lost the little reason that usually sufficed to guide them, and became as +pleasantly tipsy as can well be conceived. However, all good things must have +an end, and so had the wine-skin. Tom had placed it affectionately under his +arm like a bag-pipe and failed, with even a most energetic squeeze, to extract +a drop; there was no nothing for it but to go to rest, and indeed it seemed the +most prudent thing for the party. +</p> + +<p> +The bed became accordingly a subject of grave deliberation; for as it could +only hold two, and the party were five, there seemed some difficulty in +submitting their chances to lot, which all agreed was the fairest way. While +this was under discussion, one of the party had approached the contested prize, +and, taking up the curtains, proceeded to jump in—when, what was his +astonishment to discover that it was already occupied. The exclamation of +surprise he gave forth soon brought the others to his side; and to their +horror, drunk as they were, they found that the body before them was that of a +dead man, arrayed in all the ghastly pomp of a corpse. A little nearer +inspection showed that he had been a priest, probably the Padre of the village; +on his head he had a small velvet skull cap, embroidered with a cross, and his +body was swathed in a vestment, such as priests usually wear at the mass; in +his hand he held a large wax taper, which appeared to have burned only half +down, and probably been extinguished by the current of air on opening the door. +After the first brief shock which this sudden apparition had caused, the party +recovered as much of their senses as the wine had left them, and proceeded to +discuss what was to be done under the circumstances; for not one of them ever +contemplated giving up a bed to a dead priest, while five living men slept on +the ground. After much altercation, O’Flaherty, who had hitherto listened +without speaking, interrupted the contending parties, saying, “stop, +lads, I have it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said one of them, “let us hear Tom’s +proposal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said he, with difficulty steadying himself while he spoke, +“we’ll put him to bed with old Ridgeway, the quarter-master!” +</p> + +<p> +The roar of loud laughter that followed Tom’s device was renewed again +and again, till not a man could speak from absolute fatigue. There was not a +dissentient voice. Old Ridgeway was hated in the corps, and a better way of +disposing of the priest and paying off the quarter-master could not be thought +of. +</p> + +<p> +Very little time sufficed for their preparations; and if they had been brought +up under the Duke of Portland himself, they could not have exhibited a greater +taste for a “black job.” The door of the room was quickly taken +from its hinges, and the priest placed upon it at full length; a moment more +sufficed to lift the door upon their shoulders, and, preceded by Tom, who lit a +candle in honour of being, as he said, “chief mourner,” they took +their way through the camp towards Ridgeway’s quarters. When they reached +the hut where their victim lay, Tom ordered a halt, and proceeded stealthily +into the house to reconnoitre. The old quarter-master he found stretched on his +sheep-skin before a large fire, the remnants of an ample supper strewed about +him, and two empty bottles standing on the hearth—his deep snoring showed +that all was safe, and that no fears of his awaking need disturb them. His +shako and sword lay near him, but his sabertasche was under his head. Tom +carefully withdrew the two former; and hastening to his friends without, +proceeded to decorate the priest with them; expressing, at the same time, +considerable regret that he feared it might wake Ridgeway, if he were to put +the velvet skull-cap on him for a night-cap. +</p> + +<p> +Noiselessly and steadily they now entered, and proceeded to put down their +burden, which, after a moment’s discussion, they agreed to place between +the quarter-master and the fire, of which, hitherto, he had reaped ample +benefit. This done, they stealthily retreated, and hurried back to their +quarters, unable to speak with laughter at the success of their plot, and their +anticipation of Ridgeway’s rage on awakening in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +It was in the dim twilight of a hazy morning, that the bugler of the 8th +aroused the sleeping soldiers from their miserable couches, which, wretched as +they were, they, nevertheless, rose from reluctantly—so wearied and +fatigued had they been by the preceding day’s march; not one among the +number felt so indisposed to stir as the worthy quarter-master; his peculiar +avocations had demanded a more than usual exertion on his part, and in the +posture he had laid down at night, he rested till morning, without stirring a +limb. Twice the reveille had rung through the little encampment, and twice the +quarter-master had essayed to open his eyes, but in vain; at last he made a +tremendous effort, and sat bolt upright on the floor, hoping that the sudden +effort might sufficiently arouse him; slowly his eyes opened, and the first +thing they beheld was the figure of the dead priest, with a light cavalry +helmet on his head, seated before him. Ridgeway, who was “bon +Catholique,” trembled in every joint—it might be a ghost, it might +be a warning, he knew not what to think—he imagined the lips moved, and +so overcome with terror was he at last, that he absolutely shouted like a +maniac, and never ceased till the hut was filled with officers and men, who +hearing the uproar ran to his aid—the surprise of the poor quarter-master +at the apparition, was scarcely greater than that of the beholders—no one +was able to afford any explanation of the circumstance, though all were assured +that it must have been done in jest—the door upon which the priest had +been conveyed, afforded the clue—they had forgotten to restore it to its +place—accordingly the different billets were examined, and at last +O’Flaherty was discovered in a most commodious bed, in a large room +without a door, still fast asleep, and alone; how and when he had parted from +his companions, he never could precisely explain, though he has since confessed +it was part of his scheme to lead them astray in the village, and then retire +to the bed, which he had determined to appropriate to his sole use. +</p> + +<p> +Old Ridgeway’s rage knew no bounds; he absolutely foamed with passion, +and in proportion as he was laughed at his choler rose higher; had this been +the only result, it had been well for poor Tom, but unfortunately the affair +got to be rumoured through the country—the inhabitants of the village +learned the indignity with which the Padre had been treated; they addressed a +memorial to Lord Wellington—inquiry was immediately +instituted—O’Flaherty was tried by court martial, and found guilty; +nothing short of the heaviest punishment that could be inflicted under the +circumstances would satisfy the Spaniards, and at that precise period it was +part of our policy to conciliate their esteem by every means in our power. The +commander-in-chief resolved to make what he called an “example,” +and poor O’Flaherty—the life and soul of his regiment—the +darling of his mess, was broke, and pronounced incapable of ever serving his +Majesty again. Such was the event upon which my poor friend’s fortune in +life seemed to hinge—he returned to Ireland, if not entirely +broken-hearted, so altered that his best friends scarcely knew him; his +“occupation was gone;” the mess had been his home; his brother +officers were to him in place of relatives, and he had lost all. His after life +was spent in rambling from one watering place to another, more with the air of +one who seeks to consume than enjoy his time; and with such a change in +appearance as the alteration in his fortune had effected, he now stood before +me, but altogether so different a man, that but for the well-known tones of a +voice that had often convulsed me with laughter, I should scarcely have +recognised him. +</p> + +<p> +“Lorrequer, my old friend, I never thought of seeing you here—this +is indeed a piece of good luck.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Tom? You surely knew that the —— were in Ireland, +didn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure. I dined with them only a few days ago, but they told me you +were off to Paris, to marry something superlatively beautiful, and most +enormously rich, the daughter of a duke, if I remember right; but certes, they +said your fortune was made, and I need not tell you, there was not a man among +them better pleased than I was to hear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! they said so, did they? Droll dogs—always quizzing—I +wonder you did not perceive the hoax—eh—very good, was it +not?” This I poured out in short broken sentences, blushing like scarlet, +and fidgeting like a school girl with downright nervousness. +</p> + +<p> +“A hoax! devilish well done too,”—said Tom, “for old +Carden believed the whole story, and told me that he had obtained a six +months’ leave for you to make your ‘com.’ and, moreover, said +that he had got a letter from the nobleman, Lord —— confound his +name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord Grey, is it?” said I, with a sly look at Tom. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my dear friend,” said he drily, “it was not Lord +Grey—but to continue—he had got a letter from him, dated from +Paris, stating his surprise that you had never joined them there, according to +promise, and that they knew your cousin Guy, and a great deal of other matter I +can’t remember—so what does all this mean? Did you hoax the noble +Lord as well as the Horse Guards, Harry?” +</p> + +<p> +This was indeed a piece of news for me; I stammered out some ridiculous +explanation, and promised a fuller detail. Could it be that I had done the +Callonbys injustice, and that they never intended to break off my attention to +Lady Jane—that she was still faithful, and that of all concerned I alone +had been to blame. Oh! how I hoped this might be the case; heavily as my +conscience might accuse, I longed ardently to forgive and deal mercifully with +myself. Tom continued to talk about indifferent matters, as these thoughts +flitted through my mind; perceiving at last that I did not attend, he stopped +suddenly and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Harry, I see clearly that something has gone wrong, and perhaps I can +make a guess at the mode too: but however, you can do nothing about it now; +come and dine with me to-day, and we’ll discuss the affair together after +dinner; or if you prefer a ‘distraction,’ as we used to say in +Dunkerque, why then I’ll arrange something fashionable for your +evening’s amusement. Come, what say you to hearing Father Keogh preach, +or would you like a supper at the Carlingford, or perhaps you prefer a soiree +chez Miladi; for all of these Dublin affords—all three good in their way, +and very intellectual.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Tom, I’m yours; but I should prefer your dining with me; I +am at Bilton’s; we’ll have our cutlet quite alone, +and—” +</p> + +<p> +“And be heartily sick of each other, you were going to add. No, no, +Harry; you must dine with me; I have some remarkably nice people to present you +to—six is the hour—sharp six—number —— +Molesworth-street, Mrs. Clanfrizzle’s—easily find it—large +fanlight over the door—huge lamp in the hall, and a strong odour of +mutton broth for thirty yards on each side of the premises—and as good +luck would have it, I see old Daly the counsellor, as they call him, he’s +the very man to get to meet you, you always liked a character, eh!” +</p> + +<p> +Saying this, O’Flaherty disengaged himself from my arm, and hurried +across the street towards a portly middle-aged looking gentleman, with the +reddest face I ever beheld. After a brief but very animated colloquy, Tom +returned, and informed that that all was right; he had secured Daly. +</p> + +<p> +“And who is Daly?” said I, inquiringly, for I was rather interested +in hearing what peculiar qualification as a diner-out the counsellor might lay +claim to, many of Tom’s friends being as remarkable for being the quizzed +as the quizzers. +</p> + +<p> +“Daly,” said he, “is the brother of a most distinguished +member of the Irish bar, of which he himself is also a follower, bearing +however, no other resemblance to the clever man than the name, for as assuredly +as the reputation of the one is inseparably linked with success, so unerringly +is the other coupled with failure, and strange to say, that the stupid man is +fairly convinced that his brother owes all his success to him, and that to his +disinterested kindness the other is indebted for his present exalted station. +Thus it is through life; there seems ever to accompany dullness a sustaining +power of vanity, that like a life-buoy, keeps a mass afloat whose weight +unassisted would sink into obscurity. Do you know that my friend Denis there +imagines himself the first man that ever enlightened Sir Robert Peel as to +Irish affairs; and, upon my word, his reputation on this head stands +incontestably higher than on most others.” +</p> + +<p> +“You surely cannot mean that Sir Robert Peel ever consulted with, much +less relied upon, the statements of such a person, as you described your friend +Denis to be?” +</p> + +<p> +“He did both—and if he was a little puzzled by the information, the +only disgrace attaches to a government that send men to rule over us +unacquainted with our habits of thinking, and utterly ignorant of the +language—ay, I repeat it—but come, you shall judge for yourself; +the story is a short one, and fortunately so, for I must hasten home to give +timely notice of your coming to dine with me. When the present Sir Robert Peel, +then Mr. Peel, came over here, as secretary to Ireland, a very distinguished +political leader of the day invited a party to meet him at dinner, consisting +of men of different political leanings; among whom were, as may be supposed, +many members of the Irish bar; the elder Daly was too remarkable a person to be +omitted, but as the two brothers resided together, there was a difficulty about +getting him—however, he must be had, and the only alternative that +presented itself was adopted—both were invited. When the party descended +to the dining-room, by one of those unfortunate accidents, which as the proverb +informs us occasionally take place in the best regulated establishments, the +wrong Mr. Daly got placed beside Mr. Peel, which post of honor had been +destined by the host for the more agreeable and talented brother. There was now +no help for it; and with a heart somewhat nervous for the consequences of the +proximity, the worthy entertainer sat down to do the honors as best he might; +he was consoled during dinner by observing that the devotion bestowed by honest +Denis on the viands before him effectually absorbed his faculties, and thereby +threw the entire of Mr. Peel’s conversation towards the gentleman on his +other flank. This happiness was like most others, destined to be a brief one. +As the dessert made its appearance, Mr. Peel began to listen with some +attention to the conversation of the persons opposite; with one of whom he was +struck most forcibly—so happy a power of illustration, so vivid a fancy, +such logical precision in argument as he evinced, perfectly charmed and +surprised him. Anxious to learn the name of so gifted an individual, he turned +towards his hitherto silent neighbour and demanded who he was. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Who is he, is it?’ said Denis, hesitatingly, as if he half +doubted such extent of ignorance as not to know the person alluded to. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Peel bowed in acquiescence. +</p> + +<p> +“‘That’s Bushe!’ said Denis, giving at the same time +the same sound to the vowel, u, as it obtains when occurring in the word +‘rush.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I beg pardon,’ said Mr. Peel, ‘I did not hear.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Bushe!’ replied Denis, with considerable energy of tone. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, yes! I know,’ said the secretary, ‘Mr. Bushe, a +very distinguished member of your bar, I have heard.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Faith, you may say that!’ said Denis, tossing off his wine +at what he esteemed a very trite observation. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Pray,’ said Mr. Peel, again returning to the charge, though +certainly feeling not a little surprised at the singular laconicism of his +informant, no less than the mellifluous tones of an accent then perfectly new +to him. ‘Pray, may I ask, what is the peculiar character of Mr. +Bushe’s eloquence? I mean of course, in his professional capacity.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Eh!’ said Denis, ‘I don’t comprehend you +exactly.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I mean,’ said Mr. Peel, ‘in one word, what’s +his forte?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘His forte!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I mean what his peculiar gift consists in—’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, I perceave—I have ye now—the juries!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ah! addressing a jury.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ay, the juries.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Can you oblige me by giving me any idea of the manner in which he +obtains such signal success in this difficult branch of eloquence.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’ll tell ye,’ said Denis, leisurely finishing his +glass, and smacking his lips, with the air of a man girding up his loins for a +mighty effort, ‘I’ll tell ye—well, ye see the way he has is +this,’—here Mr. Peel’s expectation rose to the highest degree +of interest,—‘the way he has is this—he first butthers them +up, and then slithers them down! that’s all, devil a more of a secret +there’s in it.’” +</p> + +<p> +How much reason Denis had to boast of imparting early information to the new +secretary I leave my English readers to guess; my Irish ones I may trust to do +him ample justice. +</p> + +<p> +My friend now left me to my own devices to while away the hours till time to +dress for dinner. Heaven help the gentleman so left in Dublin, say I. It is, +perhaps, the only city of its size in the world, where there is no +lounge—no promenade. Very little experience of it will convince you that +it abounds in pretty women, and has its fair share of agreeable men; but where +are they in the morning? I wish Sir Dick Lauder, instead of speculating where +salmon spent the Christmas holidays, would apply his most inquiring mind to +such a question as this. True it is, however, they are not to be found. The +squares are deserted—the streets are very nearly so—and all that is +left to the luckless wanderer in search of the beautiful, is to ogle the +beauties of Dame-street, who are shopkeepers in Grafton-street, or the beauties +of Grafton-street, who are shopkeepers in Dame-street. But, confound it, how +cranky I am getting—I must be tremendously hungry. True, it’s past +six. So now for my suit of sable, and then to dinner. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch13" id="ch13"></a> CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +DUBLIN—THE BOARDING-HOUSE—SELECT SOCIETY.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus08"></a> +<a href="images/fig08.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig08.jpg" width="483" height="600" alt="Illustration: Mr. +Cudmore Filling the Teapot" /></a> +<p class="caption">Mr. Cudmore Filling the Teapot</p> +</div> + +<p> +Punctual to my appointment with O’Flaherty, I found myself a very few +minutes after six o’clock at Mrs. Clanfrizzle’s door. My very +authoritative summons at the bell was answered by the appearance of a young, +pale-faced invalid, in a suit of livery the taste of which bore a very +unpleasant resemblance to the one I so lately figured in. It was with +considerable difficulty I persuaded this functionary to permit my carrying my +hat with me to the drawing-room, a species of caution on my part—as he +esteemed it—savouring much of distrust. This point however, I carried, +and followed him up a very ill-lighted stair to the drawing-room; here I was +announced by some faint resemblance to my real name, but sufficiently near to +bring my friend Tom at once to meet me, who immediately congratulated me on my +fortune in coming off so well, for that the person who preceded me, Mr. Jones +Blennerhasset, had been just announced as Mr. Blatherhasit—a change the +gentleman himself was not disposed to adopt—“But come along, Harry, +while we are waiting for Daly, let me make you known to some of our party; +this, you must know, is a boarding-house, and always has some capital +fun—queerest people you ever met—I have only one hint—cut +every man, woman, and child of them, if you meet them hereafter—I do it +myself, though I have lived here these six months.” Pleasant people, +thought I, these must be, with whom such a line is advisable, much less +practicable. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Clanfrizzle, my friend Mr. Lorrequer; thinks he’ll stay the +summer in town. Mrs. Clan—, should like him to be one of us.” This +latter was said sotto voce, and was a practice he continued to adopt in +presenting me to his several friends through the room. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Riley, a horrid old fright, in a bird of paradise plume, and corked +eyebrows, gibbetted in gilt chains and pearl ornaments, and looking as the +grisettes say, “superbe en chrysolite”—“Miss Riley, +Captain Lorrequer, a friend I have long desired to present to you—fifteen +thousand a-year and a baronetcy, if he has sixpence”—sotto again. +“Surgeon M’Culloch—he likes the title,” said Tom in a +whisper—“Surgeon, Captain Lorrequer. By the by, lest I forget it, +he wishes to speak to you in the morning about his health; he is stopping at +Sandymount for the baths; you could go out there, eh!” The tall thing in +green spectacles bowed, and acknowledged Tom’s kindness by a knowing +touch of the elbow. In this way he made the tour of the room for about ten +minutes, during which brief space, I was according to the kind arrangements of +O’Flaherty, booked as a resident in the boarding-house—a lover to +at least five elderly, and three young ladies—a patient—a +client—a second in a duel to a clerk in the post-office—and had +also volunteered (through him always) to convey, by all of his Majesty’s +mails, as many parcels, packets, band-boxes, and bird-cages, as would have +comfortably filled one of Pickford’s vans. All this he told me was +requisite to my being well received, though no one thought much of any breach +of compact subsequently, except Mrs. Clan—herself. The ladies had, alas! +been often treated vilely before; the doctor had never had a patient; and as +for the belligerent knight of the dead office, he’d rather die than fight +any day. +</p> + +<p> +The last person to whom my friend deemed it necessary to introduce me, was a +Mr. Garret Cudmore, from the Reeks of Kerry, lately matriculated to all the +honors of freshmanship in the Dublin university. This latter was a low-sized, +dark-browed man, with round shoulders, and particularly long arms, the disposal +of which seemed sadly to distress him. He possessed the most perfect brogue I +ever listened to; but it was difficult to get him to speak, for on coming up to +town some weeks before, he had been placed by some intelligent friend at Mrs. +Clanfrizzle’s establishment, with the express direction to mark and +thoroughly digest as much as he could of the habits and customs of the circle +about him, which he was rightly informed was the very focus of good breeding +and haut ton; but on no account, unless driven thereto by the pressure of +sickness, or the wants of nature, to trust himself with speech, which, in his +then uninformed state, he was assured would inevitably ruin him among his +fastidiously cultivated associates. +</p> + +<p> +To the letter and the spirit of the despatch he had received, the worthy Garret +acted rigidly, and his voice was scarcely ever known to transgress the narrow +limits prescribed by his friends. In more respects that one, was this a good +resolve; for so completely had he identified himself with college habits, +things, and phrases, that whenever he conversed, he became little short of +unintelligible to the vulgar—a difficulty not decreased by his peculiar +pronunciation. +</p> + +<p> +My round of presentation was just completed, when the pale figure in light blue +livery announced Counsellor Daly and dinner, for both came fortunately +together. Taking the post of honour, Miss Riley’s arm, I followed Tom, +who I soon perceived ruled the whole concern, as he led the way with another +ancient vestal in black satin and bugles. The long procession wound its +snake-like length down the narrow stair, and into the dining-room, where at +last we all got seated; and here let me briefly vindicate the motives of my +friend—should any unkind person be found to impute to his selection of a +residence, any base and grovelling passion for gourmandaise, that day’s +experience should be an eternal vindication of him. The soup—alas! that I +should so far prostitute the word; for the black broth of Sparta was mock +turtle in comparison—retired to make way for a mass of beef, whose +tenderness I did not question; for it sank beneath the knife of the carver like +a feather bed—the skill of Saladin himself would have failed to divide +it. The fish was a most rebellious pike, and nearly killed every loyal subject +at table; and then down the sides were various comestibles of chickens, with +azure bosoms, and hams with hides like a rhinoceros; covered dishes of +decomposed vegetable matter, called spinach and cabbage; potatoes arrayed in +small masses, and browned, resembling those ingenious architectural structures +of mud, children raise in the high ways, and call dirt-pies. Such were the +chief constituents of the “feed;” and such, I am bound to confess, +waxed beautifully less under the vigorous onslaught of the party. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation soon became both loud and general. That happy +familiarity—which I had long believed to be the exclusive prerogative of +a military mess, where constant daily association sustains the interest of the +veriest trifles—I here found in a perfection I had not anticipated, with +this striking difference, that there was no absurd deference to any existing +code of etiquette in the conduct of the party generally, each person quizzing +his neighbour in the most free and easy style imaginable, and all, evidently +from long habit and conventional usage, seeming to enjoy the practice +exceedingly. Thus, droll allusions, good stories, and smart repartees, fell +thick as hail, and twice as harmless, which any where else that I had ever +heard of, would assuredly have called for more explanations, and perhaps +gunpowder, in the morning, than usually are deemed agreeable. Here, however, +they knew better; and though the lawyer quizzed the doctor for never having +another patient than the house dog, all of whose arteries he had tied in the +course of the winter for practice—and the doctor retorted as heavily, by +showing that the lawyer’s practice had been other than beneficial to +those for whom he was concerned—his one client being found guilty, mainly +through his ingenious defence of him; yet they never showed the slightest +irritation—on the contrary, such little playful badinage ever led to some +friendly passages of taking wine together, or in arrangements for a party to +the “Dargle,” or “Dunleary;” and thus went on the +entire party, the young ladies darting an occasion slight at their elders, who +certainly returned the fire, often with advantage; all uniting now and then, +however, in one common cause, an attack of the whole line upon Mrs. Clanfrizzle +herself, for the beef, or the mutton, or the fish, or the poultry—each of +which was sure to find some sturdy defamer, ready and willing to give evidence +in dispraise. Yet even these, and I thought them rather dangerous sallies, led +to no more violent results than dignified replies from the worthy hostess, upon +the goodness of her fare, and the evident satisfaction it afforded while being +eaten, if the appetites of the party were a test. While this was at its height, +Tom stooped behind my chair, and whispered gently— +</p> + +<p> +“This is good—isn’t it, eh?—life in a +boarding-house—quite new to you; but they are civilized now compared to +what you’ll find them in the drawing-room. When short whist for +five-penny points sets in—then Greek meets Greek, and we’ll have +it.” +</p> + +<p> +During all this melee tournament, I perceived that the worthy jib as he would +be called in the parlance of Trinity, Mr. Cudmore, remained perfectly silent, +and apparently terrified. The noise, the din of voices, and the laughing, so +completely addled him, that he was like one in a very horrid dream. The +attention with which I had observed him, having been remarked by my friend +O’Flaherty, he informed me that the scholar, as he was called there, was +then under a kind of cloud—an adventure which occurred only two nights +before, being too fresh in his memory to permit him enjoying himself even to +the limited extent it had been his wont to do. As illustrative, not only of Mr. +Cudmore, but the life I have been speaking of, I may as well relate it. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after Mr. Cudmore’s enlistment under the banners of the Clanfrizzle, +he had sought and found an asylum in the drawing-room of the establishment, +which promised, from its geographical relations, to expose him less to the +molestations of conversation than most other parts of the room. This was a +small recess beside the fire-place, not uncommon in old-fashioned houses, and +which, from its incapacity to hold more than one, secured to the worthy recluse +the privacy he longed for; and here, among superannuated hearth-brushes, an old +hand screen, an asthmatic bellows, and a kettle-holder, sat the timid youth, +“alone, but in a crowd.” Not all the seductions of loo, limited to +three pence, nor even that most appropriately designated game, +beggar-my-neighbour—could withdraw him from his blest retreat. Like his +countryman, St. Kevin—my friend Petrie has ascertained that the saint was +a native of Tralee—he fled from the temptations of the world, and the +blandishments of the fair; but, alas! like the saint himself, the +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“poor jib little knew<br/> +All that wily sex can do;” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +For while he hugged himself in the security of his fortress, the web of his +destiny was weaving. So true is it, as he himself used, no less pathetically +than poetically to express it, “misfortune will find you out, if ye were +hid in a tay chest.” +</p> + +<p> +It happened that in Mrs. Clanfrizzle’s establishment, the “enfant +bleu,” already mentioned, was the only individual of his sex retained; +and without for a moment disparaging the ability or attentions of this gifted +person, yet it may reasonably be credited, that in waiting on a party of +twenty-five or thirty persons at dinner, all of whom he had admitted as porter, +and announced as maitre d’hotel, with the subsequent detail of his duties +in the drawing-room, that Peter, blue Peter—his boarding-house +soubriquet—not enjoying the bird-like privilege of “being in two +places at once,” gave one rather the impression of a person of hasty and +fidgetty habits—for which nervous tendency the treatment he underwent was +certainly injudicious—it being the invariable custom for each guest to +put his services in requisition, perfectly irrespective of all other claims +upon him, from whatsoever quarter coming—and then, at the precise moment +that the luckless valet was snuffing the candles, he was abused by one for not +bringing coal; by another for having carried off his tea-cup, sent on an +expedition for sugar; by a third for having left the door open, which he had +never been near; and so on to the end of the chapter. +</p> + +<p> +It chanced that a few evenings previous to my appearance at the house, this +indefatigable Caleb was ministering as usual to the various and discrepant +wants of the large party assembled in the drawing-room. With his wonted +alacrity he had withdrawn from their obscure retreat against the wall, sundry +little tables, destined for the players at whist, or “spoil +five”—the popular game of the establishment. With a dexterity that +savoured much of a stage education, he had arranged the candles, the cards, the +counters; he had poked the fire, settled the stool for Miss Riley’s +august feet, and was busily engaged in changing five shillings into small +silver for a desperate victim of loo—when Mrs. Clanfrizzle’s third, +and, as it appeared, last time, of asking for the kettle smote upon his ear. +His loyalty would have induced him at once to desert every thing on such an +occasion; but the other party engaged, held him fast, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind HER, Peter—you have sixpence more to give me.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Peter rummaged one pocket, then another—discovering at last three +pence in copper, and some farthings, with which he seemed endeavouring to make +a composition with his creditor for twelve shillings in the pound; when Mrs. +Clan’s patience finally becoming exhausted, she turned towards Mr. +Cudmore, the only unemployed person she could perceive, and with her blandest +smile said, +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Cudmore, may I take the liberty of requesting you would hand me the +kettle beside you.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, though the kettle aforesaid was, as the hostess very properly observed, +beside him, yet the fact that in complying with the demand, it was necessary +for the bashful youth to leave the recess he occupied, and, with the kettle, +proceed to walk half across the room—there to perform certain manual +operations requiring skill and presence of mind, before a large and crowded +assembly—was horror to the mind of the poor Jib; and he would nearly as +soon have acceded to a desire to dance a hornpipe, if such had been suggested +as the wish of the company. However, there was nothing for it; and summoning up +all his nerve—knitting his brows—clenching his teeth, like one +prepared to “do or die,” he seized the hissing cauldron, and strode +through the room, like the personified genius of steam, very much to the alarm +of all the old ladies in the vicinity, whose tasteful drapery benefitted but +little from his progress. Yet he felt but little of all this; he had brought up +his courage to the sticking place, and he was absolutely half unconscious of +the whole scene before him; nor was it till some kind mediator had seized his +arm, while another drew him back by the skirts of the coat, that he desisted +from the deluge of hot water, with which, having filled the tea-pot, he +proceeded to swamp every thing else upon the tray, in his unfortunate +abstraction. Mrs. Clanfrizzle screamed—the old ladies accompanied +her—the young ones tittered—the men laughed—and, in a word, +poor Cudmore, perfectly unconscious of any thing extraordinary, felt himself +the admired of all admirers,—very little, it is true, to his own +satisfaction. After some few minutes exposure to these eclats de rire, he +succeeded in depositing the source of his griefs within the fender, and once +more retired to his sanctuary,—having registered a vow, which, should I +speak it, would forfeit his every claim to gallantry for ever. +</p> + +<p> +Whether in the vow aforesaid Mr. Cudmore had only been engaged in that species +of tesselating which furnishes the pavement so celebrated in the lower regions, +I know not; but true it is, that he retired that night to his chamber very much +discomfited at his debut in the great world, and half disposed to believe that +nature had neither intended him for a Brummel nor a D’Orsay. While he was +ruminating on such matters, he was joined by O’Flaherty, with whom he had +been always more intimate than any other inmate of the house—Tom’s +tact having entirely concealed what the manners of the others too plainly +evinced, the perfect appreciation of the student’s oddity and +singularity. After some few observations on general matters, O’Flaherty +began with a tone of some seriousness to express towards Cudmore the warm +interest he had ever taken in him, since his first coming among them; his great +anxiety for his welfare, and his firm resolve that no chance or casual +inattention to mere ceremonial observances on his part should ever be seized on +by the other guests as a ground for detraction or an excuse for ridicule of +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Rely upon it, my dear boy,” said he, “I have watched over +you like a parent; and having partly foreseen that something like this affair +of to-night would take place sooner or later”— +</p> + +<p> +“What affair?” said Cudmore—his eyes staring half out of his +head. +</p> + +<p> +“That business of the kettle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Kett—el. The kettle! What of that?” said Cudmore. +</p> + +<p> +“What of it? Why, if you don’t feel it, I am sure it is not my duty +to remind you; only”— +</p> + +<p> +“Feel it—oh, yes. I saw them laughing, because I spilled the water +over old Mrs. Jones, or something of that sort.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, my dear young friend, they were not laughing at that—their +mirth had another object.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil was it at, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I really do not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor can’t guess—eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Confound me if I can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well. I see, Mr. Cudmore, you are really too innocent for these people. +But come—it shall never be said that youth and inexperience ever suffered +from the unworthy ridicule and cold sarcasm of the base world, while Tom +O’Flaherty stood by a spectator. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Tom, striking his hand with energy on the table, and +darting a look of fiery indignation from his eye, “Sir, you were this +night trepanned—yes, sir, vilely, shamefully trepanned—I repeat the +expression—into the performance of a menial office—an office so +degrading, so offensive, so unbecoming the rank, the station, and the habits of +gentlemen, my very blood recoils when I only think of the indignity.” +</p> + +<p> +The expression of increasing wonder and surprise depicted in Mr. +Cudmore’s face at these words, my friend Phiz might convey—I cannot +venture to describe it—suffice it to say, that even O’Flaherty +himself found it difficult to avoid a burst of laughter, as he looked at him +and resumed. +</p> + +<p> +“Witnessing, as I did, the entire occurrence; feeling deeply for the +inexperience which the heartless worldlings had dared to trample upon, I +resolved to stand by you, and here I am come for that purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but what in the devil’s name have I done all this +time?” +</p> + +<p> +“What! are you still ignorant?—is it possible? Did you not hand the +kettle from the fire-place, and fill the tea-pot?—answer me that!” +</p> + +<p> +“I did,” said Cudmore, with a voice already becoming tremulous. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the duty of a gentleman?—answer me that.” +</p> + +<p> +A dead pause stood in place of a reply, while Tom proceeded— +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever hear any one ask me, or Counsellor Daly, or Mr. Fogarty, or +any other person to do so?—answer me that.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; never” muttered Cudmore, with a sinking spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“Well then why may I ask, were you selected for an office that by your +own confession, no one else would stoop to perform? I’ll tell you, +because from your youth and inexperience, your innocence was deemed a fit +victim to the heartless sneers of a cold and unfeeling world.” And here +Tom broke forth into a very beautiful apostrophe, beginning— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, virtue!” (this I am unfortunately unable to present to my +readers; and must only assure them that it was a very faithful imitation of the +well-known one delivered by Burke in the case of Warren Hastings,) and +concluding with an exhortation to Cudmore to wipe out the stain of his wounded +honour, by repelling with indignation the slightest future attempt at such an +insult. +</p> + +<p> +This done, O’Flaherty retired, leaving Cudmore to dig among Greek roots, +and chew over the cud of his misfortune. Punctual to the time and place, that +same evening beheld the injured Cudmore resume his wonted corner, pretty much +with the feeling with which a forlorn hope stands match in hand to ignite the +train destined to explode with ruin to thousands—himself perhaps amongst +the number: there he sat with a brain as burning, and a heart as excited, as +though, instead of sipping his bohea beside a sea-coal fire, he was that +instant trembling beneath the frown of Dr. Elrington, for the blunders in his +Latin theme, and what terror to the mind of a “Jib” can equal that +one? +</p> + +<p> +As luck would have it, this was a company night in the boarding-house. Various +young ladies in long blue sashes, and very broad ribbon sandals, paraded the +rooms, chatting gaily with very distinguished looking young gentlemen, with +gold brooches, and party-coloured inside waistcoats; sundry elderly ladies sat +at card-tables, discussing the “lost honour by an odd trick they +played,” with heads as large as those of Jack or Jill in the pantomime; +spruce clerks in public offices, (whose vocation the expansive tendency of the +right ear, from long pen-carrying, betokened) discussed fashion, “and the +musical glasses” to some very over-dressed married ladies, who preferred +flirting to five-and-ten. The tea-table, over which the amiable hostess +presided, had also its standing votaries: mostly grave parliamentary-looking +gentlemen, with powdered heads, and very long-waisted black coats, among whom +the Sir Oracle was a functionary of his Majesty’s High Court of Chancery, +though I have reason to believe, not, Lord Manners: meanwhile, in all parts of +the room might be seen Blue Peter, distributing tea, coffee, and biscuit, and +occasionally interchanging a joke with the dwellers in the house. While all +these pleasing occupations proceeded, the hour of Cudmore’s trial was +approaching. The tea-pot which had stood the attack of fourteen cups without +flinching, at last began to fail, and discovered to the prying eyes of Mrs. +Clanfrizzle, nothing but an olive-coloured deposit of soft matter, closely +analogous in appearance and chemical property to the residuary precipitate in a +drained fish-pond; she put down the lid with a gentle sigh and turning towards +the fire bestowed one of her very blandest and most captivating looks on Mr. +Cudmore, saying—as plainly as looks could say—“Cudmore, +you’re wanting.” Whether the youth did, or did not understand, I am +unable to record: I can only say, the appeal was made without acknowledgment. +Mrs. Clanfrizzle again essayed, and by a little masonic movement of her hand to +the tea-pot, and a sly glance at the hob, intimated her wish—still +hopelessly; at last there was nothing for it but speaking; and she donned her +very softest voice, and most persuasive tone, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Cudmore, I am really very troublesome: will you permit me to ask +you?”— +</p> + +<p> +“Is it for the kettle, ma’am?” said Cudmore, with a voice +that startled the whole room, disconcerting three whist parties, and so +absorbing the attention of the people at loo, that the pool disappeared without +any one being able to account for the circumstance. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it for the kettle, ma’am?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will be so very kind,” lisped the hostess. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, upon my conscience, you are impudent,” said Cudmore, +with his face crimsoned to the ears, and his eyes flashing fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Mr. Cudmore,” began the lady, “why, really, this is so +strange. Why sir, what can you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just that,” said the imperturbable jib, who now that his courage +was up, dared every thing. +</p> + +<p> +“But sir, you must surely have misunderstood me. I only asked for the +kettle, Mr. Cudmore.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil a more,” said Cud, with a sneer. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, of course”— +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I’ll tell you, of course,” said he, repeating +her words; “the sorrow taste of the kettle, I’ll give you. Call you +own skip—Blue Pether there—damn me, if I’ll be your skip any +longer.” +</p> + +<p> +For the uninitiated I have only to add, that “skip” is the Trinity +College appellation for servant, which was therefore employed by Mr. Cudmore, +on this occasion, as expressing more contemptuously his sense of the +degradation of the office attempted to be put upon him. Having already informed +my reader on some particulars of the company, I leave him to suppose how Mr. +Cudmore’s speech was received. Whist itself was at an end for that +evening, and nothing but laughter, long, loud, and reiterated, burst from every +corner of the room for hours after. +</p> + +<p> +As I have so far travelled out of the record of my own peculiar confessions, as +to give a leaf from what might one day form the matter of Mr. Cudmore’s, +I must now make the only amende in my power, by honestly narrating, that short +as my visit was to the classic precincts of this agreeable establishment, I did +not escape without exciting my share of ridicule, though, I certainly had not +the worst of the joke, and may, therefore, with better grace tell the story, +which, happily for my readers, is a very brief one. A custom prevailed in Mrs. +Clanfrizzle’s household, which from my unhappy ignorance of +boarding-houses, I am unable to predicate if it belong to the genera at large, +or this one specimen in particular, however, it is a sufficiently curious fact, +even though thereby hang no tale, for my stating it here. The decanters on the +dinner-table were never labelled, with their more appropriate designation of +contents, whether claret, sherry, or port, but with the names of their +respective owners, it being a matter of much less consequence that any +individual at table should mix his wine, by pouring “port upon +madeira,” than commit the truly legal offence of appropriating to his own +use and benefit, even by mistake, his neighbour’s bottle. However well +the system may work among the regular members of the “domestic +circle,” and I am assured that it does succeed extremely—to the +newly arrived guest, or uninitiated visitor, the affair is perplexing, and +leads occasionally to awkward results. +</p> + +<p> +It so chanced, from my friend O’Flaherty’s habitual position at the +foot of the table, and my post of honour near the head, that on the first day +of my appearing there, the distance between us, not only precluded all possible +intercourse, but any of those gentle hints as to habits and customs, a new +arrival looks for at the hands of his better informed friend. The only mode of +recognition, to prove that we belonged to each other, being by that excellent +and truly English custom of drinking wine together, Tom seized the first idle +moment from his avocation as carver to say, +</p> + +<p> +“Lorrequer, a glass of wine with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Having, of course, acceded, he again asked, +</p> + +<p> +“What wine do you drink?” intending thereby, as I afterwards +learned, to send me from his end of the table, what wine I selected. Not +conceiving the object of the inquiry, and having hitherto without hesitation +helped myself from the decanter, which bore some faint resemblance to sherry, I +immediately turned for correct information to the bottle itself, upon whose +slender neck was ticketed the usual slip of paper. My endeavours to decypher +the writing occupied time sufficient again to make O’Flaherty ask, +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Harry, I’m waiting for you. Will you have port?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I thank you,” I replied, having by this revealed the +inscription. “No, I thank you; I’ll just stick to my old friend +here, Bob M’Grotty;” for thus I rendered familiarly the name of Rt. +M’Grotty on the decanter, and which I in my ignorance believed to be the +boarding-house soubriquet for bad sherry. That Mr. M’Grotty himself +little relished my familiarity with either his name or property I had a very +decisive proof, for turning round upon his chair, and surveying my person from +head to foot with a look of fiery wrath, he thundered out in very broad Scotch, +</p> + +<p> +“And by my saul, my freend, ye may just as weel finish it noo, for deil a +glass o’ his ain wine did Bob M’Grotty, as ye ca’ him, +swallow this day.” +</p> + +<p> +The convulsion of laughter into which my blunder and the Scotchman’s +passion threw the whole board, lasted till the cloth was withdrawn, and the +ladies had retired to the drawing-room, the only individual at table not +relishing the mistake being the injured proprietor of the bottle, who was too +proud to accept reparation from my friend’s decanter, and would scarcely +condescend to open his lips during the evening; notwithstanding which display +of honest indignation, we contrived to become exceedingly merry and jocose, +most of the party communicating little episodes of their life, in which, it is +true, they frequently figured in situations that nothing but their native and +natural candour would venture to avow. One story I was considerably amused at; +it was told by the counsellor, Mr. Daly, in illustration of the difficulty of +rising at the bar, and which, as showing his own mode of obviating the delay +that young professional men submit to from hard necessity, as well as in +evidence of his strictly legal turn, I shall certainly recount, one of these +days, for the edification of the junior bar. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch14" id="ch14"></a> CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +THE CHASE.</h2> + +<p> +On the morning after my visit to the boarding-house, I received a few hurried +lines from Curzon, informing me that no time was to be lost in joining the +regiment—that a grand fancy ball was about to be given by the officers of +the Dwarf frigate, then stationed off Dunmore; who, when inviting the +——, specially put in a demand for my well-known services, to make +it to go off, and concluding with an extract from the Kilkenny Moderator, which +ran thus— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“An intimation has just reached us, from a quarter on which we can place +the fullest reliance, that the celebrated amateur performer, Mr. Lorrequer, may +shortly be expected amongst us; from the many accounts we have received of this +highly-gifted gentleman’s powers, we anticipate a great treat to the +lovers of the drama,” &c. &c. “So you see, my dear +Hal,” continued Curzon, “thy vocation calls thee; therefore come, +and come quickly—provide thyself with a black satin costume, slashed with +light blue—point lace collar and ruffles—a Spanish hat looped in +front—and, if possible, a long rapier, with a flap hilt.—Carden is +not here; so you may show your face under any colour with perfect +impunity.—Yours from the side scenes, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“C. Curzon.” +</p> + +<p> +This clever epistle sufficed to show me that the gallant —th had gone +clean theatrical mad; and although from my “last appearance on any +stage,” it might be supposed I should feel no peculiar desire to repeat +the experiment, yet the opportunity of joining during Col. Carden’s +absence, was too tempting to resist, and I at once made up my mind to set out, +and, without a moment’s delay, hurried across the street to the coach +office, to book myself an inside in the mail of that night; fortunately no +difficulty existed in my securing the seat, for the way-bill was a perfect +blank, and I found myself the only person who had, as yet, announced himself a +passenger. On returning to my hotel, I found O’Flaherty waiting for me; +he was greatly distressed on hearing my determination to leave +town—explained how he had been catering for my amusement for the week to +come—that a picnic to the Dargle was arranged in a committee of the whole +house, and a boating party, with a dinner at the Pigeon-house, was then under +consideration; resisting, however, such extreme temptations, I mentioned the +necessity of my at once proceeding to headquarters, and all other reasons for +my precipitancy failing, concluded with that really knock-down argument, +“I have taken my place;” this, I need scarcely add, finished the +matter—at least I have never known it fail in such cases. Tell your +friends that your wife is hourly expecting to be confined; your favourite child +is in the measles—you best friend waiting your aid in an awkward +scrape—your one vote only wanting to turn the scale in an election. Tell +them, I say, each or all of these, or a hundred more like them, and to any one +you so speak, the answer is—“Pooh, pooh, my dear fellow, never +fear—don’t fuss yourself—take it easy—to-morrow will do +just as well.” If, on the other hand, however, you reject such flimsy +excuses, and simply say, “I’m booked in the mail,” the +opposition at once falls to the ground, and your quondam antagonist, who was +ready to quarrel with you, is at once prepared to assist in packing your +portmanteau. +</p> + +<p> +Having soon satisfied my friend Tom that resistance was in vain, I promised to +eat an early dinner with him at Morrisson’s, and spent the better part of +the morning in putting down a few notes of my Confessions, as well as the +particulars of Mr. Daly’s story, which, I believe, I half or wholly +promised my readers at the conclusion of my last chapter; but which I must +defer to a more suitable opportunity, when mentioning the next occasion of my +meeting him on the southern circuit. +</p> + +<p> +My dispositions were speedily made. I was fortunate in securing the exact dress +my friend’s letter alluded to among the stray costumes of +Fishamble-street; and rich in the possession of the only +“properties” it has been my lot to acquire, I despatched my +treasure to the coach office, and hastened to Morrisson’s, it being by +this time nearly five o’clock. There, true to time, I found +O’Flaherty deep in the perusal of the bill, along which figured the novel +expedients for dining, I had been in the habit of reading in every Dublin hotel +since my boyhood. “Mock turtle, mutton, gravy, roast beef and +potatoes—shoulder of mutton and potatoes!—ducks and peas, +potatoes!! ham and chicken, cutlet steak and potatoes!!! apple tart and +cheese:” with a slight cadenza of a sigh over the distant glories of +Very, or still better the “Freres,” we sat down to a very +patriarchal repast, and what may be always had par excellence in Dublin, a +bottle of Sneyd’s claret. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Tom’s spirits were rather below their usual pitch; and although he +made many efforts to rally and appear gay, he could not accomplish it. However, +we chatted away over old times and old friends, and forgetting all else but the +topics we talked of, the time-piece over the chimney first apprised me that two +whole hours had gone by, and that it was now seven o’clock, the very hour +the coach was to start. I started up at once, and notwithstanding all +Tom’s representations of the impossibility of my being in time, had +despatched waiters in different directions for a jarvey, more than ever +determined upon going; so often is it that when real reasons for our conduct +are wanting, any casual or chance opposition confirms us in an intention which +before was but uncertain. Seeing me so resolved, Tom, at length, gave way, and +advised my pursuing the mail, which must be now gone at least ten minutes, and +which, with smart driving, I should probably overtake before getting free of +the city, as they have usually many delays in so doing. I at once ordered out +the “yellow post-chaise,” and before many minutes had elapsed, +what, with imprecation and bribery, I started in pursuit of his Majesty’s +Cork and Kilkenny mail coach, then patiently waiting in the court-yard of the +Post Office. +</p> + +<p> +“Which way now, your honor?” said a shrill voice from the +dark—for such the night had already become, and threatened with a few +heavy drops of straight rain, the fall of a tremendous shower. +</p> + +<p> +“The Naas road,” said I; “and, harkye, my fine fellow, if you +overtake the coach in half an hour, I’ll double your fare.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be gorra, I’ll do my endayvour,” said the youth; at the same +time instant dashing in both spurs, we rattled down Nassau-street at a very +respectable pace for harriers. Street after street we passed, and at last I +perceived we had got clear of the city, and were leaving the long line of +lamp-lights behind us. The night was now pitch dark. I could not see any thing +whatever. The quick clattering of the wheels, the sharp crack of the +postillion’s whip, or the still sharper tone of his “gee +hup,” showed me we were going at a tremendous pace, had I not even had +the experience afforded by the frequent visits my head paid to the roof of the +chaise, so often as we bounded over a stone, or splashed through a hollow. Dark +and gloomy as it was, I constantly let down the window, and with half my body +protruded, endeavores to catch a glimpse of the “Chase;” but +nothing could I see. The rain now fell in actual torrents; and a more miserable +night it is impossible to conceive. +</p> + +<p> +After about an hour so spent, he at last came to a check, so sudden and +unexpected on my part, that I was nearly precipitated, harlequin fashion, +through the front window. Perceiving that we no longer moved, and suspecting +that some part of our tackle had given way, I let down the sash, and cried +out—“Well now, my lad, any thing wrong?” My questions was, +however, unheard; and although, amid the steam arising from the wet and smoking +horses, I could perceive several figures indistinctly moving about, I could not +distinguish what they were doing, nor what they said. A laugh I certainly did +hear, and heartily cursed the unfeeling wretch, as I supposed him to be, who +was enjoying himself at my disappointment. I again endeavoured to find out what +had happened, and called out still louder than before. +</p> + +<p> +“We are at Ra’coole, your honor,” said the boy, approaching +the door of the chaise, “and she’s only beat us by hafe a +mile.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who the devil is she?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“The mail, your honor, is always a female in Ireland.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why do you stop now? You’re not going to feed I +suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not, your honor, it’s little feeding troubles these +bastes, any how, but they tell me the road is so heavy we’ll never take +the chaise over the next stage without leaders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without leaders!” said I. “Pooh! my good fellow, no +humbugging, four horses for a light post-chaise and no luggage; come get up, +and no nonsense.” At this moment a man approached the window with a +lantern in his hand, and so strongly represented the dreadful state of the +roads from the late rains—the length of the stage—the frequency of +accidents latterly from under-horsing, &c. &c. that I yielded, a +reluctant assent, and ordered out the leaders, comforting myself the while, +that considering the inside fare of the coach, I made such efforts to overtake, +was under a pound, and that time was no object to me, I certainly was paying +somewhat dearly for my character for resolution. +</p> + +<p> +At last we got under way once more, and set off cheered by a tremendous shout +from at least a dozen persons, doubtless denizens of that interesting locality, +amid which I once again heard the laugh that had so much annoyed me already. +The rain was falling, if possible, more heavily than before, and had evidently +set in for the entire night. Throwing myself back into a corner of the +“leathern convenience,” I gave myself up to the full enjoyment of +the Rouchefoucauld maxim, that there is always a pleasure felt in the +misfortunes of even our best friends, and certainly experienced no small +comfort in my distress, by contrasting my present position with that of my two +friends in the saddle, as they sweltered on through mud and mire, rain and +storm. On we went, splashing, bumping, rocking, and jolting, till I began at +last to have serious thoughts of abdicating the seat and betaking myself to the +bottom of the chaise, for safety and protection. Mile after mile succeeded, and +as after many a short and fitful slumber, which my dreams gave an apparent +length to, I woke only to find myself still in pursuit—the time seemed so +enormously protracted that I began to fancy my whole life was to be passed in +the dark, in chase of the Kilkenny mail, as we read in the true history of the +flying Dutchman, who, for his sins of impatience—like mine—spent +centuries vainly endeavouring to double the Cape, or the Indian mariner in +Moore’s beautiful ballad, of whom we are told as— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Many a day to night gave way,<br/> + And many a morn succeeded,<br/> +Yet still his flight, by day and night,<br/> + That restless mariner speeded.” +</p> + +<p> +This might have been all very well in the tropics, with a smart craft and +doubtless plenty of sea store—but in a chaise, at night, and on the Naas +road, I humbly suggest I had all the worse of the parallel. +</p> + +<p> +At last the altered sound of the wheels gave notice of our approach to a town, +and after about twenty minutes; rattling over the pavement we entered what I +supposed, correctly, to be Naas. Here I had long since determined my pursuit +should cease. I had done enough, and more than enough, to vindicate my fame +against any charge of irresolution as to leaving Dublin, and was bethinking me +of the various modes of prosecuting my journey on the morrow, when we drew up +suddenly at the door of the Swan. The arrival of a chaise and four at a small +country town inn, suggests to the various employees therein, any thing rather +than the traveller in pursuit of the mail, and so the moment I arrived, I was +assailed with innumerable proffers of horses, supper, bed, &c. My anxious +query was thrice repeated in vain, “When did the coach pass?” +</p> + +<p> +“The mail,” replied the landlord at length. “Is it the down +mail?” +</p> + +<p> +Not understanding the technical, I answered, “Of course not the +Down—the Kilkenny and Cork mail.” +</p> + +<p> +“From Dublin, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, from Dublin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not arrived yet, sir, nor will it for three quarters of an hour; they +never leave Dublin till a quarter past seven; that is, in fact, half past, and +their time here is twenty minutes to eleven.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you stupid son of a boot-top, we have been posting on all night +like the devil, and all this time the coach has been ten miles behind +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we’ve cotch them any how,” said the urchin, as he +disengaged himself from his wet saddle, and stood upon the ground; “and +it is not my fault that the coach is not before us.” +</p> + +<p> +With a satisfactory anathema upon all innkeepers, waiters, hostlers, and +post-boys, with a codicil including coach-proprietors, I followed the smirking +landlord into a well-lighted room, with a blazing fire, when having ordered +supper, I soon regained my equanimity. +</p> + +<p> +My rasher and poached eggs, all Naas could afford me, were speedily despatched, +and as my last glass, from my one pint of sherry, was poured out, the long +expected coach drew up. A minute after the coachman entered to take his dram, +followed by the guard; a more lamentable spectacle of condensed moisture cannot +be conceived; the rain fell from the entire circumference of his broad-brimmed +hat, like the ever-flowing drop from the edge of an antique fountain; his +drab-coat had become a deep orange hue, while his huge figure loomed still +larger, as he stood amid a nebula of damp, that would have made an atmosphere +for the Georgium Sidus. +</p> + +<p> +“Going on to-night, sir?” said he, addressing me; “severe +weather, and no chance of its clearing, but of course you’re +inside.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, there is very little doubt of that,” said I. “Are you +nearly full inside?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only one, sir; but he seems a real queer chap; made fifty inquiries at +the office if he could not have the whole inside to himself, and when he heard +that one place had been taken—your’s, I believe, sir—he +seemed like a scalded bear.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know his name then?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, he never gave a name at the office, and his only luggage is two +brown paper parcels, without any ticket, and he has them inside; indeed he +never lets them from him even for a second.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the guard’s horn, announcing all ready, interrupted our colloquy, +and prevented my learning any thing further of my fellow-traveller, whom, +however, I at once set down in my own mind for some confounded old churl that +made himself comfortable every where, without ever thinking of any one +else’s convenience. +</p> + +<p> +As I passed from the inn door to the coach, I once more congratulated myself +that I was about to be housed from the terrific storm of wind and rain that +railed about. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s the step, sir,” said the guard, “get in, sir, +two minutes late already.” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, sir,” said I, as I half fell over the legs of +my unseen companion. “May I request leave to pass you?” While he +made way for me for this purpose, I perceived that he stooped down towards the +guard, and said something, who from his answer had evidently been questioned as +to who I was. “And how did he get here, if he took his place in +Dublin?” asked the unknown. +</p> + +<p> +“Came half an hour since, sir, in a chaise and four,” said the +guard, as he banged the door behind him, and closed the interview. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever might have been the reasons for my fellow-traveller’s anxiety +about my name and occupation, I knew not, yet could not help feeling gratified +at thinking that as I had not given my name at the coach office, I was a great +a puzzle to him as he to me. +</p> + +<p> +“A severe night, sir,” said I, endeavouring to break ground in +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Mighty severe,” briefly and half crustily replied the unknown, +with a richness of brogue, that might have stood for a certificate of baptism +in Cork or its vicinity. +</p> + +<p> +“And a bad road too, sir,” said I, remembering my lately +accomplished stage. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the reason I always go armed,” said the unknown, +clinking at the same moment something like the barrel of a pistol. +</p> + +<p> +Wondering somewhat at his readiness to mistake my meaning, I felt disposed to +drop any further effort to draw him out, and was about to address myself to +sleep, as comfortably as I could. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll jist trouble ye to lean aff that little parcel there, +sir,” said he, as he displaced from its position beneath my elbow, one of +the paper packages the guard had already alluded to. +</p> + +<p> +In complying with this rather gruff demand, one of my pocket pistols, which I +carried in my breast pocket, fell out upon his knee, upon which he immediately +started, and asked hurriedly—“and are you armed too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes,” said I, laughingly; “men of my trade seldom go +without something of this kind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be gorra, I was just thinking that same,” said the traveller, with +a half sigh to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Why he should or should not have thought so, I never troubled myself to +canvass, and was once more settling myself in my corner, when I was startled by +a very melancholy groan, which seemed to come from the bottom of my +companion’s heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you ill, sir?” said I, in a voice of some anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“You might say that,” replied he—“if you knew who you +were talking to—although maybe you’ve heard enough of me, though +you never saw me till now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without having that pleasure even yet,” said I, “it would +grieve me to think you should be ill in the coach.” +</p> + +<p> +“May be it might,” briefly replied the unknown, with a species of +meaning in his words I could not then understand. “Did ye never hear tell +of Barney Doyle?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Not to my recollection.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’m Barney,” said he; “that’s in all the +newspapers in the metropolis; I’m seventeen weeks in Jervis-street +hospital, and four in the Lunatic, and the devil a better after all; you must +be a stranger, I’m thinking, or you’d know me now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why I do confess, I’ve only been a few hours in Ireland for the +last six months.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, that’s the reason; I knew you would not be fond of travelling +with me, if you knew who it was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, really,” said I, beginning at the moment to fathom some of +the hints of my companion, “I did not anticipate the pleasure of meeting +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s pleasure ye call it; then there’s no accountin’ +for tastes, as Dr. Colles said, when he saw me bite Cusack Rooney’s thumb +off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bite a man’s thumb off!” said I, in a horror. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” said he with a kind of fiendish animation, “in one +chop; I wish you’d see how I scattered the consultation; begad they +didn’t wait to ax for a fee.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon my soul, a very pleasant vicinity, though I. “And, may I ask +sir,” said I, in a very mild and soothing tone of voice, “may I ask +the reason for this singular propensity of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“There it is now, my dear,” said he, laying his hand upon my knee +familiarly, “that’s just the very thing they can’t make out; +Colles says, it’s all the ceribellum, ye see, that’s inflamed and +combusted, and some of the others think it’s the spine; and more, the +muscles; but my real impression is, the devil a bit they know about it at +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“And have they no name for the malady?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh sure enough they have a name for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And, may I ask—” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I think you’d better not, because ye see, maybe I might be +throublesome to ye in the night, though I’ll not, if I can help it; and +it might be uncomfortable to you to be here if I was to get one of the +fits.” +</p> + +<p> +“One of the fits! Why it’s not possible, sir,” said I, +“you would travel in a public conveyance in the state you mention; your +friends surely would not permit it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, if they knew, perhaps,” slily responded the interesting +invalid, “if they knew they might not exactly like it, but ye see, I +escaped only last night, and there’ll be a fine hub-bub in the morning, +when they find I’m off; though I’m thinking Rooney’s barking +away by this time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rooney barking, why, what does that mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“They always bark for a day or two after they’re bit, if the +infection comes first from the dog.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are surely not speaking of hydrophobia,” said I, my hair +actually bristling with horror and consternation. +</p> + +<p> +“Ayn’t I?” replied he; “may be you’ve guessed it +though.” +</p> + +<p> +“And have you the malady on you at present?” said I, trembling for +the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the ninth day since I took to biting,” said he gravely, +perfectly unconscious as it appeared of the terror such information was +calculated to convey. +</p> + +<p> +“Any with such a propensity, sir, do you think yourself warranted in +travelling in a public coach, exposing others—” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better not raise your voice, that way,” quietly +responded he, “if I’m roused, it ’ill be worse for ye, +that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well but,” said I, moderating my zeal, “is it exactly +prudent, in your present delicate state, to undertake a journey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said he, with a sigh, “I’ve been longing to see +the fox hounds throw off, near Kilkenny; these three weeks I’ve been +thinking of nothing else; but I’m not sure how my nerves will stand the +cry; I might be throublesome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my soul,” thought I, “I shall not select that morning +for my debut in the field.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope, sir, there’s no river, or watercourse on this +road—any thing else, I can, I hope, control myself against; but +water—running water particularly—makes me throublesome.” +</p> + +<p> +Well knowing what he meant by the latter phrase, I felt the cold perspiration +settling on my forehead, as I remembered that we must be within about ten or +twelve miles of Leighlin-bridge, where we should have to pass a very wide +river. I strictly concealed this fact from him, however, and gave him to +understand that there was not a well, brook, or rivulet, for forty miles on +either side of us. He now sunk into a kind of moody silence, broken +occasionally by a low muttering noise, as if speaking to himself—what +this might portend, I knew not—but thought it better, under all +circumstances, not to disturb him. How comfortable my present condition was, I +need scarcely remark—sitting vis a vis to a lunatic, with a pair of +pistols in his possession—who had already avowed his consciousness of his +tendency to do mischief, and his inability to master it; all this in the dark, +and in the narrow limits of a mail-coach, where there was scarcely room for +defence, and no possibility of escape—how heartily I wished myself back +in the Coffee-room at Morrisson’s, with my poor friend Tom—the +infernal chaise, that I cursed a hundred times, would have been an +“exchange,” better than into the Life Guards—ay, even the +outside of the coach, if I could only reach it, would, under present +circumstances, be a glorious alternative to my existing misfortune. What were +rain and storm, thunder and lightning, compared with the chances that awaited +me here?—wet through I should inevitably be, but then I had not yet +contracted the horror of moisture my friend opposite laboured under. “Ha! +what is that? is it possible he can be asleep; is it really a +snore?—Heaven grant that little snort be not what the medical people call +a premonitory symptom—if so, he’ll be in upon me now in no time. +Ah, there it is again; he must be asleep surely; now then is my time or +never.” With these words, muttered to myself, and a heart throbbing +almost audibly at the risk of his awakening, I slowly let down the window of +the coach, and stretching forth my hand, turned the handle cautiously and +slowly; I next disengaged my legs, and by a long continuous effort of +creeping—which I had learned perfectly once, when practising to go as a +boa constrictor to a fancy ball—I withdrew myself from the seat and +reached the step, when I muttered something very like a thanksgiving to +Providence for my rescue. With little difficulty I now climbed up beside the +guard, whose astonishment at my appearance was indeed considerable—that +any man should prefer the out, to the inside of a coach, in such a night, was +rather remarkable; but that the person so doing should be totally unprovided +with a box-coat, or other similar protection, argued something so strange, that +I doubt not, if he were to decide upon the applicability of the statute of +lunacy to a traveller in the mail, the palm would certainly have been awarded +to me, and not to my late companion. Well, on we rolled, and heavily as the +rain poured down, so relieved did I feel at my change of position, that I soon +fell fast asleep, and never awoke till the coach was driving up Patrick-street. +Whatever solace to my feelings reaching the outside of the coach might have +been attended with at night, the pleasure I experienced on awaking, was really +not unalloyed. More dead than alive, I sat a mass of wet clothes, like nothing +under heaven except it be that morsel of black and spongy wet cotton at the +bottom of a schoolboy’s ink bottle, saturated with rain, and the black +dye of my coat. My hat too had contributed its share of colouring matter, and +several long black streaks coursed down my “wrinkled front,” giving +me very much the air of an Indian warrior, who had got the first priming of his +war paint. I certainly must have been rueful object, were I only to judge from +the faces of the waiters as they gazed on me when the coach drew up at Rice and +Walsh’s hotel. Cold, wet, and weary as I was, my curiosity to learn more +of my late agreeable companion was strong as ever within me—perhaps +stronger, from the sacrifices his acquaintance had exacted from me. Before, +however, I had disengaged myself from the pile of trunks and carpet bags I had +surrounded myself with—he had got out of the coach, and all I could catch +a glimpse of was the back of a little short man in a kind of grey upper coat, +and long galligaskins on his legs. He carried his two bundles under his arm, +and stepped nimbly up the steps of the hotel, without turning his head to +either side. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t fancy you shall escape me now, my good friend,” I +cried out, as I sprung from the roof to the ground, with one jump, and hurried +after the great unknown into the coffee-room. By the time I reached it he had +approached the fire, on the table near which, having deposited the mysterious +paper parcels, he was now busily engaged in divesting himself of his great +coat; his face was still turned from me, so that I had time to appear employed +in divesting myself of my wet drapery before he perceived me; at last the coat +was unbuttoned, the gaiters followed, and throwing them carelessly on a chair, +he tucked up the skirts of his coat; and spreading himself comfortably a +l’Anglais, before the fire, displayed to my wondering and stupified gaze, +the pleasant features of Doctor Finucane. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Doctor—Doctor Finucane,” cried I, “is this +possible? were you really the inside in the mail last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Devil a doubt of it, Mr. Lorrequer; and may I make bould to +ask,—were you the outside?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what, may I beg to know, did you mean by your damned story about +Barney Doyle, and the hydrophobia, and Cusack Rooney’s +thumb—eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, by the Lord,” said Finucane, “this will be the death of +me; and it was you that I drove outside in all the rain last night! Oh, it will +kill Father Malachi outright with laughing, when I tell him;” and he +burst out into a fit of merriment that nearly induced me to break his head with +the poker. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to understand, then, Mr. Finucane, that this practical joke of +yours was contrived for <i>my</i> benefit, and for the purpose of holding +<i>me</i> up to the ridicule of your confounded acquaintances.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing of the kind, upon my conscience,” said Fin, drying his +eyes, and endeavouring to look sorry and sentimental. “If I had only the +least suspicion in life that it was you, upon my oath I’d not have had +the hydrophobia at all, and, to tell you the truth, you were not the only one +frightened—you alarmed me devilishly too.” +</p> + +<p> +“I alarmed you! Why, how can that be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, the real affair is this: I was bringing these two packages of notes +down to my cousin Callaghan’s bank in Cork—fifteen thousand +pounds—devil a less; and when you came into the coach at Naas, after +driving there with your four horses, I thought it was all up with me. The guard +just whispered in my ear, that he saw you look at the priming of your pistols +before getting in; and faith I said four paters, and a hail Mary, before +you’d count five. Well, when you got seated, the thought came into my +mind that maybe, highwayman as you were, you would not like dying a natural +death, more particularly if you were an Irishman; and so I trumped up that long +story about the hydrophobia, and the gentleman’s thumb, and devil knows +what besides; and, while I was telling it, the cold perspiration was running +down my head and face, for every time you stirred, I said to myself, now +he’ll do it. Two or three times, do you know, I was going to offer you +ten shillings in the pound, and spare my life; and once, God forgive me, I +thought it would not be a bad plan to shoot you by ‘mistake,’ do +you perceave?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, upon my soul, I’m very much obliged to you for your +excessively kind intentions; but really I feel you have done quite enough for +me on the present occasion. But, come now, doctor, I must get to bed, and +before I go, promise me two things—to dine with us to-day at the mess, +and not to mention a syllable of what occurred last night—it tells, +believe me, very badly for both; so, keep the secret, for if these confounded +fellows of ours ever get hold of it, I may sell out, or quit the army; +I’ll never hear the end of it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Never fear, my boy; trust me. I’ll dine with you, and you’re +as safe as a church-mouse for any thing I’ll tell them; so, now +you’d better change your clothes, for I’m thinking it rained last +night.” +</p> + +<p> +Muttering some very dubious blessings upon the learned Fin, I left the room, +infinitely more chagrined and chop-fallen at the discovery I had made, than at +all the misery and exposure the trick had consigned me to; +“however,” thought I, “if the doctor keep his word, it all +goes well; the whole affair is between us both solely; but, should it not be +so, I may shoot half the mess before the other half would give up quizzing +me.” Revolving such pleasant thought, I betook myself to bed, and what +with mulled port, and a blazing fire, became once more conscious of being a +warm-blooded animal, and feel sound asleep, to dream of doctors, strait +waistcoats, shaved heads, and all the pleasing associations my late +companion’s narrative so readily suggested. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch15" id="ch15"></a> CHAPTER XV.<br/> +MEMS. OF THE NORTH CORK.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus09"></a> +<a href="images/fig09.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig09.jpg" width="464" height="600" alt="Illustration: Dr. +Finucane and the Grey Mare" /></a> +<p class="caption">Dr. Finucane and the Grey Mare</p> +</div> + +<p> +At six o’clock I had the pleasure of presenting the worthy Doctor +Finucane to our mess, taking at the same time an opportunity, unobserved by +him, to inform three or four of my brother officers that my friend was really a +character, abounding in native drollery, and richer in good stories than even +the generality of his countrymen. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing could possibly go on better than the early part of the evening. Fin, +true to his promise, never once alluded to what I could plainly perceive was +ever uppermost in his mind, and what with his fund of humour, quaintness of +expression, and quickness at reply, garnished throughout by his most +mellifluous brogue, the true “Bocca Corkana,” kept us from one roar +of laughter to another. It was just at the moment in which his spirits seemed +at their highest, that I had the misfortune to call upon him for a story, which +his cousin Father Malachi had alluded to on the ever-memorable evening at his +house, and which I had a great desire to hear from Fin’s own lips. He +seemed disposed to escape telling it, and upon my continuing to press my +request, drily remarked, +</p> + +<p> +“You forget, surely, my dear Mr. Lorrequer, the weak condition I’m +in; and these gentlemen here, they don’t know what a severe illness +I’ve been labouring under lately, or they would not pass the decanter so +freely down this quarter.” +</p> + +<p> +I had barely time to throw a mingled look of entreaty and menace across the +table, when half-a-dozen others, rightly judging from the Doctor’s tone +and serio-comic expression, that his malady had many more symptoms of fun than +suffering about it, called out together— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Doctor, by all means, tell us the nature of your late +attack—pray relate it.” +</p> + +<p> +“With Mr. Lorrequer’s permission I’m your slave, +gentlemen,” said Fin, finishing off his glass. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as for me,” I cried, “Dr. Finucane has my full +permission to detail whatever he pleases to think a fit subject for your +amusement.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come then, Doctor, Harry has no objection you see; so out with it, and +we are all prepared to sympathise with your woes and misfortunes, whatever they +be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am sure, I never could think of mentioning it without his leave; +but now that he sees no objection—Eh, do you though? if so, then, +don’t be winking and making faces at me; but say the word, and devil a +syllable of it I’ll tell to man or mortal.” +</p> + +<p> +The latter part of this delectable speech was addressed to me across the table, +in a species of stage whisper, in reply to some telegraphic signals I had been +throwing him, to induce him to turn the conversation into any other channel. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, that’s enough,” continued he sotto voce—“I +see you’d rather I’d not tell it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell it and be d——d,” said I, wearied by the +incorrigible pertinacity with which the villain assailed me. My most unexpected +energy threw the whole table into a roar, at the conclusion of which Fin began +his narrative of the mail-coach adventure. +</p> + +<p> +I need not tell my reader, who has followed me throughout in these my +Confessions, that such a story lost nothing of its absurdity, when entrusted to +the Doctor’s powers of narration; he dwelt with a poet’s feeling +upon the description of his own sufferings, and my sincere condolence and +commiseration; he touched with the utmost delicacy upon the distant hints by +which he broke the news to me; but when he came to describe my open and +undisguised terror, and my secret and precipitate retreat to the roof of the +coach, there was not a man at table that was not convulsed with +laughter—-and, shall I acknowledge it, even I myself was unable to +withstand the effect, and joined in the general chorus against myself. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the remorseless wretch, as he finished his story, +“if ye haven’t the hard hearts to laugh at such a melancholy +subject. Maybe, however, you’re not so cruel after all—here’s +a toast for you, ‘a speedy recovery to Cusack Rooney.’” This +was drank amid renewed peals, with all the honors; and I had abundant time +before the uproar was over, to wish every man of them hanged. It was to no +purpose that I endeavoured to turn the tables, by describing Fin’s terror +at my supposed resemblance to a highwayman—his story had the precedence, +and I met nothing during my recital but sly allusions to mad dogs, muzzles, and +doctors; and contemptible puns were let off on every side at my expense. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s little shame I take to myself for the mistake, any +how,” said Fin, “for putting the darkness of the night out of +question, I’m not so sure I would not have ugly suspicions of you by +daylight.” +</p> + +<p> +“And besides, Doctor,” added I, “it would not be your first +blunder in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“True for you, Mr. Lorrequer,” said he, good-humouredly; “and +now that I have told them your story, I don’t care if they hear mine, +though maybe some of ye have heard it already—it’s pretty well +known in the North Cork.” +</p> + +<p> +We all gave our disclaimers on this point, and having ordered in a fresh cooper +of port, disposed ourselves in our most easy attitudes, while the Doctor +proceeded as follows:— +</p> + +<p> +“It was in the hard winter of the year —99, that we were quartered +in Maynooth, as many said, for our sins—for a more stupid place, the Lord +be merciful to it, never were men condemned to. The people at the college were +much better off than us—they had whatever was to be got in the country, +and never were disturbed by mounting guard, or night patrols. Many of the +professors were good fellows, that liked grog fully as well as Greek, and +understood short whist, and five and ten quite as intimately as they knew the +Vulgate, or the confessions of St. Augustine—they made no ostentacious +display of their pious zeal, but whenever they were not fasting, or praying, or +something of that kind, they were always pleasant and agreeable; and to do them +justice, never refused, by any chance, an invitation to dinner—no matter +at what inconvenience. Well, even this little solace in our affliction we soon +lost, by an unfortunate mistake of that Orange rogue of the world, Major Jones, +that gave a wrong pass one night—Mr. Lorrequer knows the story, (here he +alluded to an adventure detailed in an early chapter of my +Confessions)—and from that day forward we never saw the pleasant faces of +the Abbé D’Array, or the Professor of the Humanities, at the mess. Well, +the only thing I could do, was just to take an opportunity to drop in at the +College in the evening, where we had a quiet rubber of whist, and a little +social and intellectual conversation, with maybe an oyster and a glass of +punch, just to season the thing, before we separated; all done discreetly and +quietly—no shouting nor even singing, for the ‘superior’ had +a prejudice about profane songs. Well, one of those nights it was, about the +first week in February, I was detained by stress of weather from 11 +o’clock, when we usually bade good-night, to past twelve, and then to one +o’clock, waiting for a dry moment to get home to the barracks—a +good mile and a half off. Every time old Father Mahony went to look at the +weather, he came back saying, ‘It’s worse it’s getting; such +a night of rain, glory be to God, never was seen.’ So there was no good +in going out to be drenched to the skin, and I sat quietly waiting, taking, +between times, a little punch, just not to seem impatient, nor distress their +rev’rances. At last it struck two, and I thought—‘well, the +decanter is empty now, and I think, if I mean to walk, I’ve taken enough +for the present;’ so, wishing them all manner of happiness, and pleasant +dreams, I stumbled by way down stairs, and set out on my journey. I was always +in the habit of taking a short cut on my way home, across the ‘gurt na +brocha,’ the priest’s meadows, as they call them, it saved nearly +half a mile, although, on the present occasion, it exposed one wofully to the +rain, for there was nothing to shelter against the entire way, not even a tree. +Well, out I set in a half trot, for I staid so late I was pressed for time; +besides, I felt it easier to run than walk; I’m sure I can’t tell +why; maybe the drop of drink I took got into my head. Well, I was just jogging +on across the common; the rain beating hard in my face, and my clothes pasted +to me with the wet; notwithstanding, I was singing to myself a verse of an old +song, to lighten the road, when I heard suddenly a noise near me, like a man +sneezing. I stopped and listened,—in fact, it was impossible to see your +hand, the night was so dark—but I could hear nothing; the thought then +came over me, maybe it’s something ‘not good,’ for there were +very ugly stories going about what the priests used to do formerly in these +meadows; and bones were often found in different parts of them. Just as I was +thinking this, another voice came nearer than the last; it might be only a +sneeze, after all; but in real earnest it was mighty like a groan. ‘The +Lord be about us,’ I said to myself, ‘what’s this?—have +ye the pass?’ I cried out, ‘have ye the pass? or what brings ye +walking here, in nomine patri?’ for I was so confused whether it was a +‘sperit’ or not, I was going to address him in +Latin—there’s nothing equal to the dead languages to lay a ghost, +every body knows. Faith the moment I said these words he gave another groan, +deeper and more melancholy like than before. ‘If it’s uneasy ye +are,’ says I, ‘for any neglect of your friends,’ for I +thought he might be in purgatory longer than he thought convenient, ‘tell +me what you wish, and go home peaceably out of the rain, for this weather can +do no good to living or dead; go home,’ said I, ‘and, if it’s +masses ye’d like, I’ll give you a day’s pay myself, rather +than you should fret yourself this way.’ The words were not well out of +my mouth, when he came so near me that the sigh he gave went right through both +my ears; ‘the Lord be merciful to me,’ said I, trembling. +‘Amen,’ says he, ‘whether you’re joking or not.’ +The moment he said that my mind was relieved, for I knew it was not a sperit, +and I began to laugh heartily at my mistake; ‘and who are ye at +all?’ said I, ‘that’s roving about, at this hour of the +night, ye can’t be Father Luke, for I left him asleep on the carpet +before I quitted the college, and faith, my friend, if you hadn’t the +taste for divarsion ye would not be out now?’ He coughed then so hard +that I could not make out well what he said, but just perceived that he had +lost his way on the common, and was a little disguised in liquor. +‘It’s a good man’s case,’ said I, ‘to take a +little too much, though it’s what I don’t ever do myself; so, take +a hold of my hand, and I’ll see you safe.’ I stretched out my hand, +and got him, not by the arm, as I hoped, but by the hair of the head, for he +was all dripping with wet, and had lost his hat. ‘Well, you’ll not +be better of this night’s excursion,’ thought I, ‘if ye are +liable to the rheumatism; and, now, whereabouts do you live, my friend, for +I’ll see you safe, before I leave you?’ What he said then I never +could clearly make out, for the wind and rain were both beating so hard against +my face that I could not hear a word; however, I was able just to perceive that +he was very much disguised in drink, and spoke rather thick. ‘Well, never +mind,’ said I, ‘it’s not a time of day for much conversation; +so, come along, and I’ll see you safe in the guard-house, if you +can’t remember your own place of abode in the meanwhile.’ It was +just at the moment I said this that I first discovered he was not a gentleman. +Well, now, you’d never guess how I did it; and, faith I always thought it +a very cute thing of me, and both of us in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I really confess it must have been a very difficult thing, under +the circumstances; pray how did you contrive?” said the major. +</p> + +<p> +“Just guess how.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the tone of his voice perhaps, and his accent,” said Curzon. +</p> + +<p> +“Devil a bit, for he spoke remarkably well, considering how far gone he +was in liquor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, probably by the touch of his hand; no bad test.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; you’re wrong again, for it was by the hair I had a hold of him +for fear of falling, for he was always stooping down. Well, you’d never +guess it; it was just by the touch of his foot.” +</p> + +<p> +“His foot! Why how did that give you any information?” +</p> + +<p> +“There it is now; that’s just what only an Irishman would ever have +made any thing out of; for while he was stumbling about, he happened to tread +upon my toes, and never, since I was born, did I feel any thing like the weight +of him. ‘Well,’ said I, ‘the loss of your hat may give you a +cold, my friend; but upon my conscience you are in no danger of wet feet with +such a pair of strong brogues as you have on you.’ Well, he laughed at +that till I thought he’d split his sides, and, in good truth, I could not +help joining in the fun, although my foot was smarting like mad, and so we +jogged along through the rain, enjoying the joke just as if we were sitting by +a good fire, with a jorum of punch between us. I am sure I can’t tell you +how often we fell that night, but my clothes the next morning were absolutely +covered with mud, and my hat crushed in two; for he was so confoundedly drunk +it was impossible to keep him up, and he always kept boring along with his head +down, so that my heart was almost broke in keeping him upon his legs. I’m +sure I never had a more fatiguing march in the whole Peninsula, than that +blessed mile and a half; but every misfortune has an end at last, and it was +four o’clock, striking by the college clock, as we reached the barracks. +After knocking a couple of times, and giving the countersign, the sentry opened +the small wicket, and my heart actually leaped with joy that I had done with my +friend; so, I just called out the sergeant of the guard, and said, ‘will +you put that poor fellow on the guard-bed till morning, for I found him on the +common, and he could neither find his way home nor tell me where he +lived.’ ‘And where is he?’ said the sergeant. +‘He’s outside the gate there,’ said I, ‘wet to the +skin, and shaking as if he had the ague.’ ‘And is this him?’ +said the sergeant as we went outside. ‘It is,’ said I, ‘maybe +you know him?’ ‘Maybe I’ve a guess,’ said he, bursting +into a fit of laughing, that I thought he’d choke with. ‘Well, +sergeant,’ said I, ‘I always took you for a humane man; but, if +that’s the way you treat a fellow-creature in distress.’ ‘A +fellow-creature,’ said he, laughing louder than before. ‘Ay, a +fellow-creature,’ said I—for the sergeant was an +orangeman—‘and if he differs from you in matters of religion, sure +he’s your fellow-creature still.’ ‘Troth, Doctor, I think +there’s another trifling difference betune us,’ said he. +‘Damn your politics,’ said I; ‘never let them interfere with +true humanity.’ Wasn’t I right, Major? ‘Take good care of +him, and there’s a half-a-crown for ye.’ So saying these words, I +steered along by the barrack wall, and, after a little groping about, got up +stairs to my quarters, when, thanks to a naturally good constitution, and +regular habits of life, I soon fell fast asleep.” +</p> + +<p> +When the Doctor had said thus much, he pushed his chair slightly from the +table, and, taking off his wine, looked about him with the composure of a man +who has brought his tale to a termination. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but Doctor,” said the Major, “you are surely not done. +You have not yet told us who your interesting friend turned out to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the very thing, then, I’m not able to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, of course,” said another, “your story does not end +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where the devil would you have it end?” replied he. +“Didn’t I bring my hero home, and go asleep afterwards myself, and +then, with virtue rewarded, how could I finish it better?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, of course; but still you have not accounted for a principal +character in the narrative,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly so,” said Curzon. “We were all expecting some +splendid catastrophe in the morning; that your companion turned out to be the +Duke of Leinster, at least—or perhaps a rebel general, with an immense +price upon his head.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither the one nor the other,” said Fin, drily. +</p> + +<p> +“And do you mean to say there never was any clue to the discovery of +him?” +</p> + +<p> +“The entire affair is wrapt in mystery to this hour,” said he. +“There was a joke about it, to be sure, among the officers; but the North +Cork never wanted something to laugh at.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what was the joke?” said several voices together. +</p> + +<p> +“Just a complaint from old Mickey Oulahan, the postmaster, to the +Colonel, in the morning, that some of the officers took away his blind mare off +the common, and that the letters were late in consequence.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so, Doctor,” called out seven or eight, “your friend +turned out to be—” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my conscience they said so, and that rascal, the serjeant, would +take his oath of it; but my own impression I’ll never disclose to the +hour of my death.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch16" id="ch16"></a> CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +THEATRICALS.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus10"></a> +<a href="images/fig10.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig10.jpg" width="452" height="600" alt="Illustration: +Lorrequer Practising Physic" /></a> +<p class="caption">Lorrequer Practising Physic</p> +</div> + +<p> +Our seance at the mess that night was a late one, for after we had discussed +some coopers of claret, there was a very general public feeling in favour of a +broiled bone and some devilled kidneys, followed by a very ample bowl of +bishop, over which simple condiments we talked “green room” till +near the break of day. +</p> + +<p> +From having been so long away from the corps I had much to learn of their +doings and intentions to do, and heard with much pleasure that they possessed +an exceedingly handsome theatre, well stocked with scenery, dresses, and +decorations; that they were at the pinnacle of public estimation, from what +they had already accomplished, and calculated on the result of my appearance to +crown them with honour. I had indeed very little choice left me in the matter; +for not only had they booked me for a particular part, but bills were already +in circulation, and sundry little three-cornered notes enveloping them, were +sent to the elite of the surrounding country, setting forth that “on +Friday evening the committee of the garrison theatricals, intending to perform +a dress rehearsal of the ‘Family Party,’ request the pleasure of +Mr. —— and Mrs. ——‘s company on the occasion. Mr. +Lorrequer will undertake the part of Captain Beauguarde. Supper at twelve. An +answer will oblige.” +</p> + +<p> +The sight of one of these pleasant little epistles, of which the foregoing is a +true copy—was presented to me as a great favour that evening, it having +been agreed upon that I was to know nothing of their high and mighty resolves +till the following morning. It was to little purpose that I assured them all, +collectively and individually, that of Captain Beauguarde I absolutely knew +nothing—had never read the piece—nor even seen it performed. I +felt, too, that my last appearance in character in a “Family +Party,” was any thing but successful; and I trembled lest, in the +discussion of the subject, some confounded allusion to my adventure at +Cheltenham might come out. Happily they seemed all ignorant of this; and +fearing to bring conversation in any way to the matter of my late travels, I +fell in with their humour, and agreed that if it were possible, in the limited +time allowed me to manage it—I had but four days—I should undertake +the character. My concurrence failed to give the full satisfaction I expected, +and they so habitually did what they pleased with me, that, like all men so +disposed, I never got the credit for concession which a man more niggardly of +his services may always command. +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure you will do it, Harry,” said the Major, “why not? +I could learn the thing myself in a couple of hours, as for that.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, be it known that the aforesaid Major was so incorrigibly slow of study, +and dull of comprehension, that he had been successively degraded at our +theatrical board from the delivering of a stage message to the office of +check-taker. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s so devilish good in the love scene,” said the junior +ensign, with the white eyebrows. “I say, Curzon, you’ll be +confoundedly jealous though, for he is to play with Fanny.” +</p> + +<p> +“I rather think not,” said Curzon, who was a little tipsy. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Frazer, “Hepton is right. Lorrequer has Fanny +for his ‘Frou;’ and, upon my soul, I should feel tempted to take +the part myself upon the same terms; though I verily believe I should forget I +was acting, and make fierce love to her on the stage.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who may la charmante Fanny be?” said I, with something of the +air of the “Dey of Algiers” in my tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Let Curzon tell him,” said several voices together, “he is +the only man to do justice to such perfection.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quiz away, my merry men,” said Cruzon, “all I know is, that +you are a confoundedly envious set of fellows; and if so lovely a girl had +thrown her eyes on one amongst you--” +</p> + +<p> +“Hip! hip! hurrah!” said old Fitzgerald, “Curzon is a gone +man. He’ll be off to the palace for a license some fine morning, or I +know nothing of such matters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Bat,” said I, “if matters are really as you all say, +why does not Curzon take the part you destine for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“We dare not trust him,” said the Major, “Lord bless you, +when the call-boy would sing out for Captain Beaugarde in the second act, +we’d find that he had Levanted with our best slashed trowsers, and a bird +of paradise feather in his cap.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” thought I, “this is better at least than I +anticipated, for if nothing else offers, I shall have rare fun teasing my +friend Charley”—for it was evident that he had been caught by the +lady in question. +</p> + +<p> +“And so you’ll stay with us; give me your hand—you are a real +trump.” These words, which proceeded from a voice at the lower end of the +table, were addressed to my friend Finucane. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll stay with ye, upon my conscience,” said Fin; “ye +have a most seductive way about ye; and a very superior taste in milk +punch.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Doctor,” said I, “you must not be a drone in the hive; +what will ye do for us? You should be a capital Sir Lucius O’Trigger, if +we could get up the Rivals.” +</p> + +<p> +“My forte is the drum—the big drum; put me among what the Greeks +call the ‘Mousikoi,’ and I’ll astonish ye.” +</p> + +<p> +It was at once agreed that Fin should follow the bent of his genius; and after +some other arrangements for the rest of the party, we separated for the night, +having previously toasted the “Fanny,” to which Curzon attempted to +reply, but sank, overpowered by punch and feelings, and looked unutterable +things, without the power to frame a sentence. +</p> + +<p> +During the time which intervened between the dinner and the night appointed for +our rehearsal, I had more business upon my hands than a Chancellor of the +Exchequer the week of the budget being produced. The whole management of every +department fell, as usual, to my share, and all those who, previously to my +arrival, had contributed their quota of labour, did nothing whatever now but +lounge about the stage, or sit half the day in the orchestra, listening to some +confounded story of Finucane’s, who contrived to have an everlasting mob +of actors, scene-painters, fiddlers, and call-boys always about him, who, from +their uproarious mirth, and repeated shouts of merriment, nearly drove me +distracted, as I stood almost alone and unassisted in the whole management. Of +la belle Fanny, all I learned was, that she was a professional actress of very +considerable talent, and extremely pretty; that Curzon had fallen desperately +in love with her the only night she had appeared on the boards there, and that +to avoid his absurd persecution of her, she had determined not to come into +town until the morning of the rehearsal, she being at that time on a visit to +the house of a country gentleman in the neighbourhood. Here was a new +difficulty I had to contend with—to go through my part alone was out of +the question to making it effective; and I felt so worried and harassed that I +often fairly resolved on taking the wings of the mail, and flying away to the +uttermost parts of the south of Ireland, till all was tranquil again. By +degrees, however, I got matters into better train, and by getting our rehearsal +early before Fin appeared, as he usually slept somewhat later after his night +at mess, I managed to have things in something like order; he and his +confounded drum, which, whenever he was not story-telling, he was sure to be +practising on, being, in fact the greatest difficulties opposed to my +managerial functions. One property he possessed, so totally at variance with +all habits of order, that it completely baffled me. So numerous were his +narratives, that no occasion could possibly arise, no chance expression be let +fall on the stage, but Fin had something he deemed, apropos, and which, sans +facon, he at once related for the benefit of all whom it might concern; that +was usually the entire corps dramatique, who eagerly turned from stage +directions and groupings, to laugh at his ridiculous jests. I shall give an +instance of this habit of interruption, and let the unhappy wight who has +filled such an office as mine pity my woes. +</p> + +<p> +I was standing one morning on the stage drilling my “corps” as +usual. One most refractory spirit, to whom but a few words were entrusted, and +who bungled even those, I was endeavouring to train into something like his +part. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, Elsmore, try it again—just so. Yes, come forward in this +manner—take her hand tenderly—press it to your lips; retreat +towards the flat, and then bowing deferentially—thus, say ‘Good +night, good night’—that’s very simple, eh? Well, now +that’s all you have to do, and that brings you over here—so you +make your exit at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly so, Mr. Elsmore, always contrive to be near the door under such +circumstances. That was the way with my poor friend, Curran. Poor Philpot, when +he dined with the Guild of Merchant Tailors, they gave him a gold box with +their arms upon it—a goose proper, with needles saltier wise, or +something of that kind; and they made him free of their ‘ancient and +loyal corporation,’ and gave him a very grand dinner. Well, Curran was +mighty pleasant and agreeable, and kept them laughing all night, till the +moment he rose to go away, and then he told them that he never spent so happy +an evening, and all that. ‘But, gentlemen,’ said he, +‘business has its calls, and I must tear myself away; so wishing you +now’—there were just eighteen of them—‘wishing you now +every happiness and prosperity, permit me to take my leave’—and +here he stole near the door—‘to take my leave, and bid you both +good night.’” With a running fire of such stories, it may be +supposed how difficult was my task in getting any thing done upon the stage. +</p> + +<p> +Well, at last the long-expected Friday arrived, and I rose in the morning with +all that peculiar tourbillon of spirits that a man feels when he is half +pleased and whole frightened with the labour before him. I had scarcely +accomplished dressing when a servant tapped at my door, and begged to know if I +could spare a few moments to speak to Miss Ersler, who was in the drawing-room. +I replied, of course, in the affirmative, and, rightly conjecturing that my +fair friend must be the lovely Fanny already alluded to, followed the servant +down stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lorrequer,” said the servant, and closing the door behind me, +left me in sole possession of the lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you do me the favour to sit here, Mr. Lorrequer,” said one of +the sweetest voices in the world, as she made room for me on the sofa beside +her. “I am particularly short-sighted; so pray sit near me, as I really +cannot talk to any one I don’t see.” +</p> + +<p> +I blundered out some platitude of a compliment to her eyes—the fullest +and most lovely blue that ever man gazed into—at which she smiled as if +pleased, and continued, “Now, Mr. Lorrequer, I have really been longing +for your coming; for your friends of the 4—th are doubtless very dashing, +spirited young gentlemen, perfectly versed in war’s alarms; but pardon me +if I say that a more wretched company of strolling wretches never graced a +barn. Now, come, don’t be angry, but let me proceed. Like all amateur +people, they have the happy knack in distributing the characters—to put +every man in his most unsuitable position—and then that poor dear thing +Curzon—I hope he’s not a friend of yours—by some dire +fatality always plays the lover’s parts, ha! ha! ha! True, I assure you, +so that if you had not been announced as coming this week, I should have left +them and gone off to Bath.” +</p> + +<p> +Here she rose and adjusted her brown ringlets at the glass, giving me ample +time to admire one of the most perfect figures I ever beheld. She was most +becomingly dressed, and betrayed a foot and ancle which for symmetry and +“chaussure,” might have challenged the Rue Rivoli itself to match +it. +</p> + +<p> +My first thought was poor Curzon; my second, happy and trice fortunate Harry +Lorrequer. There was no time, however, for indulgence in such very pardonable +gratulation; so I at once proceeded “pour faire l’aimable,” +to profess my utter inability to do justice to her undoubted talents, but slyly +added, “that in the love making part of the matter she should never be +able to discover that I was not in earnest.” We chatted then gaily for +upwards of an hour, until the arrival of her friend’s carriage was +announced, when, tendering me most graciously her hand, she smiled benignly and +saying “au revoir, donc,” drove off. +</p> + +<p> +As I stood upon the steps of the hotel, viewing her “out of the visible +horizon,” I was joined by Curzon, who evidently, from his self-satisfied +air, and jaunty gait, little knew how he stood in the fair Fanny’s +estimation. +</p> + +<p> +“Very pretty, very pretty, indeed, deeper and deeper still,” cried +he, alluding to my most courteous salutation as the carriage rounded the +corner, and its lovely occupant kissed her hand once more. “I say Harry, +my friend, you don’t think that was meant for you, I should hope?” +</p> + +<p> +“What! the kiss of the hand? Yes, faith, but I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, certainly that is good! why, man, she just saw me coming up that +instant. She and I—we understand each other—never mind, don’t +be cross—no fault of yours, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, so she is taken with you,” said I. “Eh, Charley?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I believe that. I may confess to you the real state of matters. She +was devilishly struck with me the first time we rehearsed together. We soon got +up a little flirtation; but the other night when I played Mirabel to her, it +finished the affair. She was quite nervous, and could scarcely go through with +her part. I saw it, and upon my soul I am sorry for it; she’s a +prodigiously fine girl—such lips and such teeth! Egad I was delighted +when you came; for, you see, I was in a manner obliged to take one line of +character, and I saw pretty plainly where it must end; and you know with you +it’s quite different, she’ll laugh and chat, and all that sort of +thing, but she’ll not be carried away by her feelings; you understand +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, perfectly; it’s quite different, as you observed.” +</p> + +<p> +If I had not been supported internally during this short dialogue by the +recently expressed opinion of the dear Fanny herself upon my friend +Curzon’s merits, I think I should have been tempted to take the liberty +of wringing his neck off. However, the affair was much better as it stood, as I +had only to wait a little with proper patience, and I had no fears but that my +friend Charley would become the hero of a very pretty episode for the mess. +</p> + +<p> +“So I suppose you must feel considerably bored by this kind of +thing,” I said, endeavouring to draw him out. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I do,” replied he, “and I do not. The girl is very +pretty. The place is dull in the morning; and altogether it helps to fill up +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said I, “you are always fortunate, Curzon. You have +ever your share of what floating luck the world affords.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not exactly all luck, my dear friend; for, as I shall explain to +you—” +</p> + +<p> +“Not now,” replied I, “for I have not yet breakfasted.” +So saying I turned into the coffee-room, leaving the worthy adjutant to revel +in his fancied conquest, and pity such unfortunates as myself. +</p> + +<p> +After an early dinner at the club-house, I hastened down to the theatre, where +numerous preparations for the night were going forward. The green-room was +devoted to the office of a supper-room, to which the audience had been invited. +The dressing-rooms were many of them filled with the viands destined for the +entertainment. Where, among the wooden fowls and “impracticable” +flagons, were to be seen very imposing pasties and flasks of champaigne, +littered together in most admirable disorder. The confusion naturally +incidental to all private theatricals, was ten-fold increased by the +circumstances of our projected supper. Cooks and scene-shifters, fiddlers and +waiters, were most inextricably mingled; and as in all similar cases, the least +important functionaries took the greatest airs upon them, and appropriated +without hesitation whatever came to their hands—thus the cook would not +have scrupled to light a fire with the violoncello of the orchestra; and I +actually caught one of the “gens de cuisine” making a +“soufflet” in a brass helmet I had once worn when astonishing the +world as Coriolanus. +</p> + +<p> +Six o’clock struck. In another short hour and we begin, thought I, with a +sinking heart, as I looked upon the littered stage crowded with hosts of +fellows that had nothing to do there. Figaro himself never wished for ubiquity +more than I did, as I hastened from place to place, entreating, cursing, +begging, scolding, execrating, and imploring by turns. To mend the matter, the +devils in the orchestra had begun to tune their instruments, and I had to bawl +like a boatswain of a man-of-war, to be heard by the person beside me. +</p> + +<p> +As seven o’clock struck, I peeped through the small aperture in the +curtain, and saw, to my satisfaction, mingled, I confess, with fear, that the +house was nearly filled—the lower tier of boxes entirely so. There were a +great many ladies handsomely dressed, chatting gaily with their chaperons, and +I recognised some of my acquaintances on every side; in fact, there was +scarcely a family of rank in the county that had not at least some member of it +present. As the orchestra struck up the overture to Don Giovanni, I retired +from my place to inspect the arrangements behind. +</p> + +<p> +Before the performance of the “Family Party,” we were to have a +little one-act piece called “a day in Madrid,” written by +myself—the principal characters being expressly composed for “Miss +Ersler and Mr. Lorrequer.” +</p> + +<p> +The story of this trifle, it is not necessary to allude to; indeed, if it were, +I should scarcely have patience to do so, so connected is my recollection of it +with the distressing incident which followed. +</p> + +<p> +In the first scene of the piece, the curtain rising displays la belle Fanny +sitting at her embroidery in the midst of a beautiful garden, surrounded with +statues, fountains, &c. At the back is seen a pavillion in the ancient +Moorish style of architecture, over which hang the branches of some large and +shady trees—she comes forward, expressing her impatience at the delay of +her lover, whose absence she tortures herself to account for by a hundred +different suppositions, and after a very sufficient exposè of her feelings, and +some little explanatory details of her private history, conveying a very clear +intimation of her own amiability, and her guardian’s cruelty, she +proceeds, after the fashion of other young ladies similarly situated, to give +utterance to her feelings by a song; after, therefore, a suitable prelude from +the orchestra, for which, considering the impassioned state of her mind, she +waits patiently, she comes forward and begins a melody— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Oh why is he far from the heart that adores him?” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +in which, for two verses, she proceeds with sundry sol feggio’s, to +account for the circumstances, and show her disbelief of the explanation in a +very satisfactory manner,—meanwhile, for I must not expose my reader to +an anxiety on my account, similar to what the dear Fanny here laboured under, I +was making the necessary preparations for flying to her presence, and clasping +her to my heart—that is to say, I had already gummed on a pair of +mustachios, had corked and arched a ferocious pair of eyebrows, which, with my +rouged cheeks, gave me a look half Whiskerando, half Grimaldi; these operations +were performed, from the stress of circumstances, sufficiently near the object +of my affections, to afford me the pleasing satisfaction of hearing from her +own sweet lips, her solicitude about me—in a word, all the dressing-rooms +but two were filled with hampers of provisions, glass, china, and crockery, and +from absolute necessity, I had no other spot where I could attire myself +unseen, except in the identical pavillion already alluded to—here, +however, I was quite secure, and had abundant time also, for I was not to +appear till scene the second, when I was to come forward in full Spanish +costume, “every inch a Hidalgo.” Meantime, Fanny had been +singing— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Oh why is he far,” &c. &c. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +At the conclusion of the last verse, just as she repeats the words “why, +why, why,” in a very distracted and melting cadence, a voice behind +startles her—she turns and beholds her guardian—so at least run the +course of events in the real drama—that it should follow thus now +however, “Dus aliter visum”—for just as she came to the very +moving apostrophe alluded to, and called out, “why comes he +not?”—a gruff voice from behind answered in a strong Cork +brogue—“ah! would ye have him come in a state of nature?” at +the instant a loud whistle rang through the house, and the pavillion scene +slowly drew up, discovering me, Harry Lorrequer, seated on a small stool before +a cracked looking-glass, my only habiliments, as I am an honest man, being a +pair of long white silk stockings, and a very richly embroidered shirt with +point lace collar. The shouts of laughter are yet in my ears, the loud roar of +inextinguishable mirth, which after the first brief pause of astonishment gave +way, shook the entire building—my recollection may well have been +confused at such a moment of unutterable shame and misery; yet, I clearly +remember seeing Fanny, the sweet Fanny herself, fall into an arm-chair nearly +suffocated with convulsions of laughter. I cannot go on; what I did I know not. +I suppose my exit was additionally ludicrous, for a new eclat de rire followed +me out. I rushed out of the theatre, and wrapping only my cloak round me, ran +without stopping to the barracks. But I must cease; these are woes too sacred +for even confessions like mine, so let me close the curtain of my room and my +chapter together, and say, adieu for a season. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch17" id="ch17"></a> CHAPTER XVII.<br/> +THE WAGER.</h2> + +<p> +It might have been about six weeks after the events detailed in my last chapter +had occurred, that Curzon broke suddenly into my room one morning before I had +risen, and throwing a precautionary glance around, as if to assure himself that +we were alone, seized my hand with a most unusual earnestness, and, steadfastly +looking at me, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Harry Lorrequer, will you stand by me?” +</p> + +<p> +So sudden and unexpected was his appearance at the moment, that I really felt +but half awake, and kept puzzling myself for an explanation of the scene, +rather than thinking of a reply to his question; perceiving which, and auguring +but badly from my silence, he continued— +</p> + +<p> +“Am I then, really deceived in what I believed to be an old and tried +friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what the devil’s the matter?” I cried out. “If +you are in a scrape, why of course you know I’m your man; but, still, +it’s only fair to let one know something of the matter in the +meanwhile.” +</p> + +<p> +“In a scrape!” said he, with a long-drawn sigh, intended to beat +the whole Minerva press in its romantic cadence. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but get on a bit,” said I, rather impatiently; “who is +the fellow you’ve got the row with? Not one of ours, I trust?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my dear Hal,” said he, in the same melting tone as +before—“How your imagination does run upon rows, and broils, and +duelling rencontres,” (he, the speaker, be it known to the reader, was +the fire-eater of the regiment,) “as if life had nothing better to offer +than the excitement of a challenge, or the mock heroism of a meeting.” +</p> + +<p> +As he made a dead pause here, after which he showed no disposition to continue, +I merely added— +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at this rate of proceeding we shall get at the matter in hand, on +our way out to Corfu, for I hear we are the next regiment for the +Mediterranean.” +</p> + +<p> +The observation seemed to have some effect in rousing him from his lethargy, +and he added— +</p> + +<p> +“If you only knew the nature of the attachment, and how completely all my +future hopes are concerned upon the issue—” +</p> + +<p> +“Ho!” said I, “so it’s a money affair, is it? and is it +old Watson has issued the writ? I’ll bet a hundred.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, upon my soul, Lorrequer,” said he, jumping from his chair, +and speaking with more energy than he had before evinced, “you are, +without exception, the most worldly-minded, cold-blooded fellow I ever met. +What have I said that could have led you to suppose I had either a duel or a +law-suit upon my hands this morning? Learn, once and for all, man, that I am in +love—desperately and over head and ears in love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Et puis,” said I coolly. +</p> + +<p> +“And intend to marry immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, very well,” said I; “the fighting and debt will come +later, that’s all. But to return—now for the lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, you must make a guess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, then, I really must confess my utter inability; for your attentions +have been so generally and impartially distributed since our arrival here, that +it may be any fair one, from your venerable partner at whist last evening, to +Mrs. Henderson, the pastry-cook inclusive, for whose macaroni and cherry-brandy +your feelings have been as warm as they are constant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, no more quizzing, Hal. You surely must have remarked that lovely +girl I waltzed with at Power’s ball on Tuesday last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lovely girl! Why, in all seriousness, you don’t mean the small +woman with the tow wig?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not mean any such thing—but a beautiful creature, with +the brightest locks in Christendom—the very light-brown waving ringlets, +Dominicheno loved to paint, and a foot—did you see her foot?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; that was rather difficult, for she kept continually bobbing up and +down, like a boy’s cork-float in a fish-pond.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop there. I shall not permit this any longer—I came not here to +listen to—” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Curzon, my boy, you’re not angry?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, I am angry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, surely, you have not been serious all this time?” +</p> + +<p> +“And why not, pray?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I don’t exactly know—that is, faith I scarcely thought +you were in earnest, for if I did, of course I should honestly have confessed +to you that the lady in question struck me as one of the handsomest persons I +ever met.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think so really, Hal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I do, and the opinion is not mine alone; she is, in fact +universally admired.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Harry, excuse my bad temper. I ought to have known you +better—give me your hand, old boy, and wish me joy, for with you aiding +and abetting she is mine to-morrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +I wrung his hand heartily—congratulating myself, meanwhile, how happily I +had got out of my scrape; as I now, for the first time, perceived that Curzon +was bona fide in earnest. +</p> + +<p> +“So, you will stand by me, Hal,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. Only show me how, and I’m perfectly at your service. +Any thing from riding postillion on the leaders to officiating as brides-maid, +and I am your man. And if you are in want of such a functionary, I shall stand +in ‘loco parentis’ to the lady, and give her away with as much +‘onction’ and tenderness as tho’ I had as many marriageable +daughters as king Priam himself. It is with me in marriage as in +duelling—I’ll be any thing rather than a principal; and I have long +since disapproved of either method as a means of ‘obtaining +satisfaction.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Harry, I shall not be discouraged by your sneers. You’ve been +rather unlucky, I’m aware; but now to return: Your office, on this +occasion, is an exceedingly simple one, and yet that which I could only confide +to one as much my friend as yourself. You must carry my dearest Louisa +off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carry her off! Where?—when?—how?” +</p> + +<p> +“All that I have already arranged, as you shall hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. But first of all please to explain why, if going to run away with +the lady, you don’t accompany her yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I knew you would say that, I could have laid a wager you’d ask +that question, for it is just that very explanation will show all the native +delicacy and feminine propriety of my darling Loo; and first, I must tell you, +that old Sir Alfred Jonson, her father, has some confounded prejudice against +the army, and never would consent to her marriage with a red-coat—so +that, his consent being out of the question, our only resource is an elopement. +Louisa consents to this, but only upon one condition—and this she insists +upon so firmly—I had almost said obstinately—that, notwithstanding +all my arguments and representations, and even entreaties against it, she +remains inflexible; so that I have at length yielded, and she is to have her +own way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and what is the condition she lays such stress upon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Simply this—that we are never to travel a mile together until I +obtain my right to do so, by making her my wife. She has got some trumpery +notions in her head that any slight transgression over the bounds of delicacy +made by women before marriage is ever after remembered by the husband to their +disadvantage, and she is, therefore, resolved not to sacrifice her principle +even at such a crisis as the present.” +</p> + +<p> +“All very proper, I have no doubt; but still, pray explain what I confess +appears somewhat strange to me at present. How does so very delicately-minded a +person reconcile herself to travelling with a perfect stranger under such +circumstances?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I can explain perfectly to you. You must know that when my darling +Loo consented to take this step, which I induced her to do with the greatest +difficulty, she made the proviso I have just mentioned; I at once showed her +that I had no maiden aunt or married sister to confide her to at such a moment, +and what was to be done? She immediately replied, ‘Have you no elderly +brother officer, whose years and discretion will put the transaction in such a +light as to silence the slanderous tongues of the world, for with such a man I +am quite ready and willing to trust myself.’ You see I was hard pushed +there. What could I do?—whom could I select? Old Hayes, the paymaster, is +always tipsy; Jones is five-and-forty—but egad! I’m not so sure +I’d have found my betrothed at the end of the stage. You were my only +hope; I knew I could rely upon you. You would carry on the whole affair with +tact and discretion; and as to age, your stage experience would enable you, +with a little assistance from costume, to pass muster; besides that, I have +always represented you as the very Methuselah of the corps; and in the grey +dawn of an autumnal morning—with maiden bashfulness assisting—the +scrutiny is not likely to be a close one. So, now, your consent is alone +wanting to complete the arrangements which, before this time to-morrow, shall +have made me the happiest of mortals.” +</p> + +<p> +Having expressed, in fitting terms, my full sense of obligation for the +delicate flattery with which he pictured me as “Old Lorrequer” to +the Lady, I begged a more detailed account of his plan, which I shall shorten +for my reader’s sake, by the following brief expose. +</p> + +<p> +A post-chaise and four was to be in waiting at five o’clock in the +morning to convey me to Sir Alfred Jonson’s residence, about twelve miles +distant. There I was to be met by a lady at the gate-lodge, who was +subsequently to accompany me to a small village on the Nore, where an old +college friend of Curzon’s happened to reside, as parson, and by whom the +treaty was to be concluded. +</p> + +<p> +This was all simple and clear enough—the only condition necessary to +insure success being punctuality, particularly on the lady’s part. As to +mine I readily promised my best aid and warmest efforts in my friend’s +behalf. +</p> + +<p> +“There is only one thing more,” said Curzon. “Louisa’s +younger brother is a devilish hot-headed, wild sort of a fellow; and it would +be as well, just for precaution sake, to have your pistols along with you, if, +by any chance, he should make out what was going forward—not but that you +know if any thing serious was to take place, I should be the person to take all +that upon my hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! of course—I understand,” said I. Meanwhile I could not +help running over in my mind the pleasant possibilities such an adventure +presented, heartily wishing that Curzon had been content to marry by bans or +any other of the legitimate modes in use, without risking his friend’s +bones. The other pros and cons of the matter, with full and accurate directions +as to the road to be taken on obtaining possession of the lady, being all +arranged, we parted, I to settle my costume and appearance for my first +performance in an old man’s part, and Curzon to obtain a short leave for +a few days from the commanding officer of the regiment. +</p> + +<p> +When we again met, which was at the mess-table, it was not without evidence on +either side of that peculiar consciousness which persons feel who have, or +think they have, some secret in common, which the world wots not of. +Curzon’s unusually quick and excited manner would at once have struck any +close observer as indicating the eve of some important step, no less than +continual allusions to whatever was going on, by sly and equivocal jokes and +ambiguous jests. Happily, however, on the present occasion, the party were +otherwise occupied than watching him—being most profoundly and learnedly +engaged in discussing medicine and matters medical with all the acute and +accurate knowledge which characterises such discussions among the non-medical +public. +</p> + +<p> +The present conversation originated from some mention our senior surgeon +Fitzgerald had just made of a consultation which he was invited to attend on +the next morning, at the distance of twenty miles, and which necessitated him +to start at a most uncomfortably early hour. While he continued to deplore the +hard fate of such men as himself, so eagerly sought after by the world, that +their own hours were eternally broken in upon by external claims, the juniors +were not sparing of their mirth on the occasion, at the expense of the worthy +doctor, who, in plain truth, had never been disturbed by a request like the +present within any one’s memory. Some asserted that the whole thing was a +puff, got up by Fitz. himself, who was only going to have a day’s +partridge-shooting; others hinting that it was a blind to escape the vigilance +of Mrs. Fitzgerald—a well-known virago in the regiment—while Fitz. +enjoyed himself; and a third party, pretending to sympathise with the doctor, +suggested that a hundred pounds would be the least he could possibly be offered +for such services as his on so grave an occasion. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, only fifty,” said Fitz. gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty! Why, you tremendous old humbug, you don’t mean to say +you’ll make fifty pounds before we are out of our beds in the +morning?” cried one. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take your bet on it,” said the doctor, who had, in this +instance, reason to suppose his fee would be a large one. +</p> + +<p> +During this discussion, the claret had been pushed round rather freely; and +fully bent, as I was, upon the adventure before me, I had taken my share of it +as a preparation. I thought of the amazing prize I was about to be instrumental +in securing for my friend—for the lady had really thirty thousand +pounds—and I could not conceal my triumph at such a prospect of success +in comparison with the meaner object of ambition. They all seemed to envy poor +Fitzgerald. I struggled with my secret for some time—but my pride and the +claret together got the better of me, and I called out, “Fifty pounds on +it, then, that before ten to-morrow morning, I’ll make a better hit of it +than you—and the mess shall decide between us afterwards as to the +winner.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if you will,” said I, seeing some reluctance on Fitz.’s +part to take the wager, and getting emboldened in consequence, “let the +judgment be pronounced over a couple of dozen of champaigne, paid by the +loser.” +</p> + +<p> +This was a coup d’etat on my part, for I knew at once there were so many +parties to benefit by the bet, terminate which way it might, there could be no +possibility of evading it. My ruse succeeded, and poor Fitzgerald, fairly +badgered into a wager, the terms of which he could not in the least comprehend, +was obliged to sign the conditions inserted in the adjutant’s +note-book—his greatest hope in so doing being in the quantity of wine he +had seen me drink during the evening. As for myself, the bet was no sooner made +than I began to think upon the very little chance I had of winning it; for even +supposing my success perfect in the department allotted to me, it might with +great reason be doubted what peculiar benefit I myself derived as a +counterbalance to the fee of the doctor. For this, my only trust lay in the +justice of a decision which I conjectured would lean more towards the goodness +of a practical joke than the equity of the transaction. The party at mess soon +after separated, and I wished my friend good night for the last time before +meeting him as a bride-groom. +</p> + +<p> +I arranged every thing in order for my start. My pistol-case I placed +conspicuously before me, to avoid being forgotten in the haste of departure; +and, having ordered my servant to sit up all night in the guard-room until he +heard the carriage at the barrack-gate, threw myself on my bed, but not to +sleep. The adventure I was about to engage in suggested to my mind a thousand +associations, into which many of the scenes I have already narrated entered. I +thought how frequently I had myself been on the verge of that state which +Curzon was about to try, and how it always happened that when nearest to +success, failure had intervened. From my very school-boy days my love +adventures had the same unfortunate abruptness in their issue; and there seemed +to be something very like a fatality in the invariable unsuccess of my efforts +at marriage. I feared, too, that my friend Curzon had placed himself in very +unfortunate hands—if augury were to be relied upon. Something will surely +happen, thought I, from my confounded ill luck, and all will be blown up. +Wearied at last with thinking I fell into a sound sleep for about +three-quarters of an hour, at the end of which I was awoke by my servant +informing me that a chaise and four were drawn up at the end of the barrack +lane. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, surely, they are too early, Stubber? It’s only four +o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; but they say that the road for eight miles is very bad, and +they must go it almost at a walk.” +</p> + +<p> +That is certainly pleasant, thought I, but I’m in for it now, so +can’t help it. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes I was up and dressed, and so perfectly transformed by the +addition of a brown scratch-wig and large green spectacles, and a deep-flapped +waistcoat, that my servant, on re-entering my room, could not recognise me. I +followed him now across the barrack-yard, as, with my pistol-case under one arm +and a lantern in his hand, he proceeded to the barrack-gate. +</p> + +<p> +As I passed beneath the adjutant’s window, I saw a light—the sash +was quickly thrown open, and Curzon appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Harry?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—when do you start?” +</p> + +<p> +“In about two hours. I’ve only eight miles to go—you have +upwards of twelve, and no time to lose. God bless you, my boy—we’ll +meet soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s the carriage, sir; this way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my lads, you know the road I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Every inch of it, your honour’s glory; we’re always coming +it for doctors and ‘pothecaries; they’re never a week without +them.” +</p> + +<p> +I was soon seated, the door clapped to, and the words “all right” +given, and away we went. +</p> + +<p> +Little as I had slept during the night, my mind was too much occupied with the +adventure I was engaged in, to permit any thoughts of sleep now, so that I had +abundant opportunity afforded me of pondering over all the bearings of the +case, with much more of deliberation and caution than I had yet bestowed upon +it. One thing was certain, whether success did or did not attend our +undertaking, the risk was mine and mine only; and if by any accident the affair +should be already known to the family, I stood a very fair chance of being shot +by one of the sons, or stoned to death by the tenantry; while my excellent +friend Curzon should be eating his breakfast with his reverend friend, and only +interrupting himself in his fourth muffin, to wonder “what could keep +them;” and besides for minor miseries will, like the little devils in Don +Giovanni, thrust up their heads among their better-grown brethren, my +fifty-pound bet looked rather blue; for even under the most favourable light +considered, however Curzon might be esteemed a gainer, it might be well doubted +how far I had succeeded better than the doctor, when producing his fee in +evidence. Well, well, I’m in for it now; but it certainly is strange, all +these very awkward circumstances never struck me so forcibly before; and after +all, it was not quite fair of Curzon to put any man forward in such a +transaction; the more so, as such a representation might be made of it at the +Horse-Guards as to stop a man’s promotion, or seriously affect his +prospects for life, and I at last began to convince myself that many a man so +placed, would carry the lady off himself, and leave the adjutant to settle the +affair with the family. For two mortal hours did I conjure up every possible +disagreeable contingency that might arise. My being mulcted of my fifty and +laughed at by the mess seemed inevitable, even were I fortunate enough to +escape a duel with the fire-eating brother. Meanwhile a thick misty rain +continued to fall, adding so much to the darkness of the early hour, that I +could see nothing of the country about me, and knew nothing of where I was. +</p> + +<p> +Troubles are like laudanum, a small dose only excites, a strong one sets you to +sleep—not a very comfortable sleep mayhap—but still it is sleep, +and often very sound sleep; so it now happened with me. I had pondered over, +weighed, and considered all the pros, cons, turnings, and windings of this +awkward predicament, till I had fairly convinced myself that I was on the high +road to a confounded scrape; and then, having established that fact to my +entire satisfaction, I fell comfortably back in the chaise, and sunk into a +most profound slumber. +</p> + +<p> +If to any of my readers I may appear here to have taken a very despondent view +of this whole affair, let him only call to mind my invariable ill luck in such +matters, and how always it had been my lot to see myself on the fair road to +success, only up to that point at which it is certain, besides—but why +explain? These are my confessions. I may not alter what are matters of fact, +and my reader must only take me with all the imperfections of wrong motives and +headlong impulses upon my head, or abandon me at once. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the chaise rolled along, and the road being better and the pace +faster, my sleep became more easy; thus, about an hour and a half after I had +fallen asleep, passed rapidly over, when the sharp turning of an angle +distended me from my leaning position, and I awoke. I started up and rubbed my +eyes; several seconds elapsed before I could think where I was or whither +going. Consciousness at last came, and I perceived that we were driving up a +thickly planted avenue. Why, confound it, they can’t have mistaken it, +thought I, or are we really going up to the house, instead of waiting at the +lodge? I at once lowered the sash, and stretching out my head, cried out, +“Do you know what ye are about, lads; is this all right?” but +unfortunately, amid the rattling of the gravel and the clatter of the horses, +my words were unheard; and thinking I was addressing a request to go faster, +the villains cracked their whips, and breaking into a full gallop, before five +minutes flew over, they drew up with a jerk at the foot of a long portico to a +large and spacious cut-stone mansion. When I rallied from the sudden check, +which had nearly thrown me through the window, I gave myself up for lost: here +I was vis a vis to the very hall-door of the man whose daughter I was about to +elope with, whether so placed by the awkwardness and blundering of the wretches +who drove me, or delivered up by their treachery, it mattered not, my fate +seemed certain; before I had time to determine upon any line of acting in this +confounded dilemma, the door was jerked open by a servant in a sombre livery; +who, protruding his head and shoulders into the chaise, looked at me steadily +for a moment, and said, “Ah! then, doctor darlin’, but ye’re +welcome.” With the speed with which sometimes the bar of an air long +since heard, or the passing glance of an old familiar fact can call up the +memory of our very earliest childhood, bright and vivid before us, so that one +single phrase explained the entire mystery of my present position, and I saw in +one rapid glance that I had got into the chaise intended for Dr. Fitzgerald, +and was absolutely at that moment before the hall-door of the patient. My first +impulse was an honest one, to avow the mistake and retrace my steps, taking my +chance to settle with Curzon, whose matrimonial scheme I foresaw was doomed to +the untimely fate of all those I had ever been concerned in. My next thought, +how seldom is the adage true which says “that second thoughts are +best,” was upon my luckless wager; for, even supposing that Fitzgerald +should follow me in the other chaise, yet as I had the start of him, if I could +only pass muster for half an hour, I might secure the fee, and evacuate the +territory; besides that there was a great chance of Fitz’s having gone on +my errand, while I was journeying on his, in which case I should be safe from +interruption. Meanwhile, heaven only could tell, what his interference in poor +Curzon’s business might not involve. These serious reflections took about +ten seconds to pass through my mind, as the grave-looking old servant proceeded +to encumber himself with my cloak and my pistol-case, remarking as he lifted +the latter, “And may the Lord grant ye won’t want the instruments +this time, doctor, for they say he is better this morning;” heartily +wishing amen to the benevolent prayer of the honest domestic, for more reasons +than one, I descended leisurely, as I conjectured a doctor ought to do, from +the chaise, and with a solemn pace and grave demeanour followed him into the +house. +</p> + +<p> +In the small parlour to which I was ushered, sat two gentlemen somewhat +advanced in years, who I rightly supposed were my medical confrères. One of +these was a tall, pale, ascetic-looking man, with grey hairs, and retreating +forehead, slow in speech, and lugubrious in demeanour. The other, his +antithesis, was a short, rosy-cheeked, apoplectic-looking subject, with a laugh +like a suffocating wheeze, and a paunch like an alderman; his quick, restless +eye, and full nether lip denoting more of the bon vivant than the abstemious +disciple of Aesculapius. A moment’s glance satisfied me, that if I had +only these to deal with, I was safe, for I saw that they were of that stamp of +country practitioner, half-physician, half-apothecary, who rarely come in +contact with the higher orders of their art, and then only to be dictated to, +obey, and grumble. +</p> + +<p> +“Doctor, may I beg to intrude myself, Mr. Phipps, on your notice? Dr. +Phipps or Mr. It’s all one; but I have only a license in pharmacy, though +they call me doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surgeon Riley, sir; a very respectable practitioner,” said he, +waving his hand towards his rubicund confrere. +</p> + +<p> +I at once expressed the great happiness it afforded me to meet such highly +informed and justly celebrated gentlemen; and fearing every moment the arrival +of the real Simon Pure should cover me with shame and disgrace, begged they +would afford me as soon as possible, some history of the case we were concerned +for. They accordingly proceeded to expound in a species of duet, some curious +particulars of an old gentleman who had the evil fortune to have them for his +doctors, and who laboured under some swelling of the neck, which they differed +as to the treatment of, and in consequence of which, the aid of a third party +(myself, God bless the mark!) was requested. +</p> + +<p> +As I could by no means divest myself of the fear of Fitz.’s arrival, I +pleaded the multiplicity of my professional engagements as a reason for at once +seeing the patient; upon which I was conducted up stairs by my two brethren, +and introduced to a half-lighted chamber. In a large easy chair sat a +florid-looking old man, with a face in which pain and habitual ill-temper had +combined to absorb every expression. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the doctor of the regiment, sir, that you desired to see,” +said my tall coadjutor. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! then very well; good morning, sir. I suppose you will find out +something new the matter, for them two there have been doing so every day this +two months.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust, sir,” I replied stiffly, “that with the assistance +of my learned friends, much may be done for you. Ha! hem! So this is the +malady. Turn your head a little to that side;” here an awful groan +escaped the sick man, for I, it appears, had made considerable impression upon +rather a delicate part, not unintentionally I must confess; for as I remembered +Hoyle’s maxim at whist, “when in doubt play a trump,” so I +thought it might be true in physic, when posed by a difficulty to do a bold +thing also. “Does that hurt you, sir?” said I in a soothing and +affectionate tone of voice. “Like the devil,” growled the patient. +“And here?” said I. “Oh! oh! I can’t bear it any +longer.” “Oh! I perceive,” said I, “the thing is just +as I expected.” Here I raised my eyebrows, and looked indescribably wise +at my confrères. +</p> + +<p> +“No aneurism, doctor,” said the tall one. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe,” said the short man, “maybe it’s a +stay-at-home-with-us tumour after all;” so at least he appeared to +pronounce a confounded technical, which I afterwards learned was +“steatomatous;” conceiving that my rosy friend was disposed to jeer +at me, I gave him a terrific frown, and resumed, “this must not be +touched.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you won’t operate upon it,” said the patient. +</p> + +<p> +“I would not take a thousand pounds and do so,” I replied. +“Now if you please gentlemen,” said I, making a step towards the +door, as if to withdraw for consultation; upon which they accompanied me down +stairs to the breakfast-room. As it was the only time in my life I had +performed in this character, I had some doubts as to the propriety of indulging +a very hearty breakfast appetite, not knowing if it were unprofessional to eat; +but from this doubt my learned friends speedily relieved me, by the entire +devotion which they bestowed for about twenty minutes upon ham, rolls, eggs, +and cutlets, barely interrupting these important occupations by sly allusions +to the old gentleman’s malady, and his chance of recovery. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, doctor,” said the pale one, as at length he rested from his +labours, “what are we to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” said the other,” there’s the question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on,” said I, “go on as before; I can’t advise you +better.” Now, this was a deep stroke of mine; for up to the present +moment I do not know what treatment they were practising; but it looked a +shrewd thing to guess it, and it certainly was civil to approve of it. +</p> + +<p> +“So you think that will be best.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am certain—I know nothing better,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m sure, sir, we have every reason to be gratified for the +very candid manner you have treated us. Sir, I’m your most obedient +servant,” said the fat one. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, both your good healths and professional success also:” +here I swallowed a petit verre of brandy; thinking all the while there were +worse things than the practice of physic. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you are not going,” said one, as my chaise drew up at the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“Business calls me,” said I, “and I can’t help +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Could not you manage to see our friend here again, in a day or +two?” said the rosy one. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear it will be impossible,” replied I; “besides I have a +notion he may not desire it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been commissioned to hand you this,” said the tall doctor, +with a half sigh, as he put a check into my hand. +</p> + +<p> +I bowed slightly, and stuffed the crumpled paper with a half careless air into +my waistcoat pocket, and wishing them both every species of happiness and +success, shook hands four times with each, and drove off; never believing +myself safe ‘till I saw the gate-lodge behind me, and felt myself flying +on the road to Kilkenny at about twelve miles Irish an hour. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch18" id="ch18"></a> CHAPTER XVIII.<br/> +THE ELOPEMENT.</h2> + +<p> +It was past two o’clock when I reached the town. On entering the +barrack-yard, I perceived a large group of officers chatting together, and +every moment breaking into immoderate fits of laughter. I went over, and +immediately learned the source of their mirth, which was this: No sooner had it +been known that Fitzgerald was about to go to a distance, on a professional +call, than a couple of young officers laid their heads together, and wrote an +anonymous note to Mrs. Fitz. who was the very dragon of jealousy, informing +her, that her husband had feigned the whole history of the patient and +consultation as an excuse for absenting himself on an excursion of gallantry; +and that if she wished to satisfy herself of the truth of the statement, she +had only to follow him in the morning, and detect his entire scheme; the object +of these amiable friends being to give poor Mrs. Fitz. a twenty miles’ +jaunt, and confront her with her injured husband at the end of it. +</p> + +<p> +Having a mind actively alive to suspicions of this nature, the worthy woman +made all her arrangements for a start, and scarcely was the chaise and four, +with her husband, out of the town, than was she on the track of it, with a +heart bursting with jealousy, and vowing vengeance to the knife, against all +concerned in this scheme to wrong her. +</p> + +<p> +So far the plan of her persecutors had perfectly succeeded; they saw her +depart, on a trip of, as they supposed, twenty miles, and their whole notions +of the practical joke were limited to the eclaircissement that must ensue at +the end. Little, however, were they aware how much more nearly the suspected +crime, was the position of the poor doctor to turn out; for, as by one blunder +I had taken his chaise, so he, without any inquiry whatever, had got into the +one intended for me; and never awoke from a most refreshing slumber, till +shaken by the shoulder by the postillion, who whispered in his +ear—“here we are sir; this is the gate.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why stop at the gate? Drive up the avenue, my boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“His honor told me, sir, not for the world to go farther than the lodge; +nor to make as much noise as a mouse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! very true. He may be very irritable, poor man! Well stop here, and +I’ll get out.” +</p> + +<p> +Just as the doctor had reached the ground, a very smart-looking soubrette +tripped up, and said to him— +</p> + +<p> +“Beg pardon, sir; but you are the gentleman from the barrack, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my dear,” said Fitz., with a knowing look at the pretty face +of the damsel, “what can I do for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why sir, my mistress is here in the shrubbery; but she is so nervous, +and so frightened, I don’t know how she’ll go through it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! she’s frightened, poor thing; is she? Oh! she must keep up her +spirits, while there’s life there’s hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, my darling, she must not give way. I’ll speak to her a +little. Is not he rather advanced in life?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Lord! no sir. Only two-and-thirty, my mistress tells me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two-and-thirty! Why I thought he was above sixty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Above sixty! Law! sir. You have a bright fancy. This is the gentleman, +ma’am. Now sir, I’ll just slip aside for a moment, and let you talk +to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am grieved, ma’am, that I have not the happiness to make your +acquaintance under happier circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must confess, sir—though I am ashamed”— +</p> + +<p> +“Never be ashamed, ma’am. Your grief, although, I trust causeless, +does you infinite honor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my soul she is rather pretty,” said the doctor to himself +here. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir! as I have the most perfect confidence in you, from all I have +heard of you, I trust you will not think me abrupt in saying that any longer +delay here is dangerous.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dangerous! Is he in so critical a state as that then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Critical a state, sir! Why what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, ma’am, do you think, then, it must be done to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I do, sir, and I shall never leave the spot without your +assuring me of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! in that case make your mind easy. I have the instruments in the +chaise.” +</p> + +<p> +“The instruments in the chaise! Really, sir, if you are not +jesting—I trust you don’t think this is a fitting time for +such—I entreat of you to speak more plainly and intelligibly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jesting, ma’am! I’m incapable of jesting at such a +moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ma’am! ma’am! I see one of the rangers, ma’am, at a +distance; so don’t lose a moment, but get into the chaise at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, let us away; for I have now gone too far to retract.” +</p> + +<p> +“Help my mistress into the chaise, sir. Lord! what a man it is.” +</p> + +<p> +A moment more saw the poor doctor seated beside the young lady, while the +postillions plied whip and spur with their best energy; and the road flew +beneath them. Meanwhile the delay caused by this short dialogue, enabled Mrs. +Fitz.’s slower conveyance to come up with the pursuit, and her chaise had +just turned the angle of the road as she caught a glimpse of a muslin dress +stepping into the carriage with her husband. +</p> + +<p> +There are no words capable of conveying the faintest idea of the feelings that +agitated Mrs. Fitz. at this moment. The fullest confirmation to her worst fears +was before her eyes—just at the very instant when a doubt was beginning +to cross over her mind that it might have been merely a hoax that was practised +on her, and that the worthy Doctor was innocent and blameless. As for the poor +Doctor himself, there seemed little chance of his being enlightened as to the +real state of matters; for from the moment the young lady had taken her place +in the chaise, she had buried her face in her hands, and sobbed continually. +Meanwhile he concluded that they were approaching the house by some back +entrance, to avoid noise and confusion, and waited, with due patience, for the +journey’s end. +</p> + +<p> +As, however, her grief continued unabated, Fitz. at length began to think of +the many little consolatory acts he had successfully practised in his +professional career, and was just insinuating some very tender speech on the +score of resignation, with his head inclined towards the weeping lady beside +him, when the chaise of Mrs. Fitz. came up along-side, and the postillions +having yielded to the call to halt, drew suddenly up, displaying to the enraged +wife the tableau we have mentioned. +</p> + +<p> +“So, wretch,” she screamed rather than spoke, “I have +detected you at last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord bless me! Why it is my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, villain! your injured, much-wronged wife! And you, madam, may I ask +what you have to say for thus eloping with a married man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Shame! My dear Jemima,” said Fitz. “how can you possibly +permit your foolish jealousy so far to blind your reason. Don’t you see I +am going upon a professional call?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! you are. Are you? Quite professional, I’ll be bound.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir! Oh, madam! I beseech you, save me from the anger of my +relatives, and the disgrace of exposure. Pray bring me back at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my God! ma’am, what do you mean? You are not gone mad, as +well as my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Mr. Fitz.” said Mrs. F. “this is carrying the joke +too far. Take your unfortunate victim—as I suppose she is such—home +to her parents, and prepare to accompany me to the barrack; and if there be law +and justice in—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well! may the Lord in his mercy preserve my senses, or you will both +drive me clean mad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” sobbed the young lady, while Mrs. Fitzgerald +continued to upbraid at the top of her voice, heedless of the disclaimers and +protestations of innocence poured out with the eloquence of despair, by the +poor doctor. Matters were in this state, when a man dressed in a fustian +jacket, like a groom, drove up to the side of the road, in a tax-cart; he +immediately got down, and tearing open the door of the doctor’s chaise, +lifted out the young lady, and deposited her safely in his own conveyance, +merely adding— +</p> + +<p> +“I say, master, you’re in luck this morning, that Mr. William took +the lower road; for if he had come up with you instead of me, he’d blow +the roof off your scull, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +While these highly satisfactory words were being addressed to poor Fitz. Mrs. +Fitzgerald had removed from her carriage to that of her husband, perhaps +preferring four horses to two; or perhaps she had still some unexplained views +of the transaction, which might as well be told on the road homeward. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever might have been the nature of Mrs. F.’s dissertation, nothing is +known. The chaise containing these turtle doves arrived late at night at +Kilkenny, and Fitz. was installed safely in his quarters before any one knew of +his having come back. The following morning he was reported ill; and for three +weeks he was but once seen, and at that time only at his window, with a flannel +night-cap on his head, looking particularly pale, and rather dark under one +eye. +</p> + +<p> +As for Curzon—the last thing known of him that luckless morning, was his +hiring a post-chaise for the Royal Oak, from whence he posted to Dublin, and +hastened on to England. In a few days we learned that the adjutant had +exchanged into a regiment in Canada; and to this hour there are not three men +in the —th who know the real secret of that morning’s +misadventures. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch19" id="ch19"></a> CHAPTER XIX.<br/> +DETACHMENT DUTY—AN ASSIZE TOWN.</h2> + +<p> +As there appeared to be but little prospect of poor Fitzgerald ever requiring +any explanation from me as to the events of that morning, for he feared to +venture from his room, lest he might be recognised and prosecuted for +abduction, I thought it better to keep my own secret also; and it was therefore +with a feeling of any thing but regret, that I received an order which, under +other circumstances, would have rendered me miserable—to march on +detachment duty. To any one at all conversant with the life we lead in the +army, I need not say how unpleasant such a change usually is. To surrender your +capital mess, with all its well-appointed equipments—your jovial brother +officers—hourly flirtations with the whole female population—never +a deficient one in a garrison town—not to speak of your matches at +trotting, coursing, and pigeon-shooting, and a hundred other delectable modes +of getting over the ground through life, till it please your ungrateful country +and the Horse Guards to make you a major-general—to surrender all these, +I say, for the noise, dust, and damp disagreeables of a country inn, with bacon +to eat, whiskey to drink, and the priest, or the constabulary chief, to get +drunk with—I speak of Ireland here—and your only affair, par +amours, being the occasional ogling of the apothecary’s daughter +opposite, as often as she visits the shop, in the soi disant occupation of +measuring out garden seeds and senna. These are indeed, the exchanges with a +difference, for which there is no compensation; and, for my own part, I never +went upon such duty, that I did not exclaim with the honest Irishman, when the +mail went over him, “Oh, Lord! what is this for?”—firmly +believing that in the earthly purgatory of such duties, I was reaping the heavy +retribution attendant on past offences. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, from being rather a crack man in my corps, I thought it somewhat hard +that my turn for such duty should come round about twice as often as that of my +brother officers; but so it is—I never knew a fellow a little smarter +than his neighbours, that was not pounced upon by his colonel for a victim. +Now, however, I looked at these matters in a very different light. To leave +head-quarters was to escape being questioned; while there was scarcely any post +to which I could be sent, where something strange or adventurous might not turn +up, and serve me to erase the memory of the past, and turn the attention of my +companions in any quarter rather than towards myself. +</p> + +<p> +My orders on the present occasion were to march to Clonmel; from whence I was +to proceed a short distance to the house of a magistrate, upon whose +information, transmitted to the Chief Secretary, the present assistance of a +military party had been obtained; and not without every appearance of reason. +The assizes of the town were about to be held, and many capital offences stood +for trial in the calendar; and as it was strongly rumoured that, in the event +of certain convictions being obtained, a rescue would be attempted, a general +attack upon the town seemed a too natural consequence; and if so, the house of +so obnoxious a person as him I have alluded to, would be equally certain of +being assailed. Such, at least, is too frequently the history of such scenes, +beginning with no one definite object: sometimes a slight one—more ample +views and wider conceptions of mischief follow; and what has begun in a drunken +riot—a casual rencontre—may terminate in the slaughter of a family, +or the burning of a village. The finest peasantry—God bless +them—are a vif people, and quicker at taking a hint than most others, and +have, withal, a natural taste for fighting, that no acquired habits of other +nations can pretend to vie with. +</p> + +<p> +As the worthy person to whose house I was now about to proceed was, and if I am +rightly informed is, rather a remarkable character in the local history of +Irish politics, I may as well say a few words concerning him. Mr. Joseph +Larkins, Esq.—(for so he signed himself)—had only been lately +elevated to the bench of magistrates. He was originally one of that large but +intelligent class called in Ireland “small farmers;” remarkable +chiefly for a considerable tact in driving hard bargains—a great skill in +wethers—a rather national dislike to pay all species of imposts, whether +partaking of the nature of tax, tithe, grand jury cess, or any thing of that +nature whatsoever. So very accountable—I had almost said, (for I have +been long quartered in Ireland,) so very laudable a propensity, excited but +little of surprise or astonishment in his neighbours, the majority of whom +entertained very similar views—none, however, possessing any thing like +the able and lawyer-like ability of the worthy Larkins, for the successful +evasion of these inroads upon the liberty of the subject. Such, in fact, was +his talent, and so great his success in this respect, that he had established +what, if it did not actually amount to a statute of exemption in law, served +equally well in reality; and for several years he enjoyed a perfect immunity on +the subject of money-paying in general. His “little +houldin’,” as he unostentatiously called some five hundred acres of +bog, mountain, and sheep-walk, lay in a remote part of the county, the roads +were nearly impassable for several miles in that direction, land was of little +value; the agent was a timid man, with a large family; of three tithe-proctors +who had penetrated into the forbidden territory, two laboured under a dyspepsia +for life, not being able to digest parchment and sealing-wax, for they usually +dined on their own writs; and the third gave five pounds out of his pocket, to +a large, fresh-looking man, with brown whiskers and beard, that concealed him +two nights in a hay-loft, to escape the vengeance of the people, which act of +philanthropy should never be forgotten, if some ill-natured people were not +bold enough to say the kind individual in question was no other man than— +</p> + +<p> +However this may be, true it is that this was the last attempt made to bring +within the responsibilities of the law so refractory a subject; and so powerful +is habit, that although he was to be met with at every market and cattle-fair +in the county, an arrest of his person was no more contemplated than if he +enjoyed the privilege of parliament to go at large without danger. +</p> + +<p> +When the country became disturbed, and nightly meetings of the peasantry were +constantly held, followed by outrages against life and property to the most +frightful extent, the usual resources of the law were employed unavailingly. It +was in vain to offer high rewards. Approvers could not be found; and so +perfectly organized were the secret associations, that few beyond the very +ringleaders knew any thing of consequence to communicate. Special commissions +were sent down from Dublin; additional police force, detachments of military; +long correspondences took place between the magistracy and the +government—but all in vain. The disturbances continued; and at last to +such a height had they risen, that the country was put under martial law; and +even this was ultimately found perfectly insufficient to repel what now daily +threatened to become an open rebellion rather than mere agrarian disturbance. +It was at this precise moment, when all resources seemed to be fast exhausting +themselves, that certain information reached the Castle, of the most important +nature. The individual who obtained and transmitted it, had perilled his life +in so doing—but the result was a great one—no less than the capital +conviction and execution of seven of the most influential amongst the +disaffected peasantry. Confidence was at once shaken in the secrecy of their +associates; distrust and suspicion followed. Many of the boldest sunk beneath +the fear of betrayal, and themselves, became evidence for the crown; and in +five months, a county shaken with midnight meetings, and blazing with +insurrectionary fires, became almost the most tranquil in its province. It may +well be believed, that he who rendered this important service on this trying +emergency, could not be passed over, and the name of J. Larkins soon after +appeared in the Gazette as one of his Majesty’s justices of the peace for +the county; pretty much in the same spirit in which a country gentleman +converts the greatest poacher in his neighbourhood by making him, his +gamekeeper. +</p> + +<p> +In person he was a large and powerfully built man, considerably above six feet +in height, and possessing great activity, combined with powers of enduring +fatigue almost incredible. With an eye like a hawk, and a heart that never knew +fear, he was the person, of all others, calculated to strike terror into the +minds of the country people. The reckless daring with which he threw himself +into danger—the almost impetuous quickness with which he followed up a +scent, whenever information reached him of an important character—had +their full effect upon a people who, long accustomed to the slowness and the +uncertainty of the law were almost paralyzed at beholding detection and +punishment follow on crime, as certainly as the thunder-crash follows the +lightning. +</p> + +<p> +His great instrument for this purpose was the obtaining information from sworn +members of the secret societies, and whose names never appeared in the course +of a trial or a prosecution, until the measure of their iniquity was completed, +when they usually received a couple of hundred pounds, blood-money, as it was +called, with which they took themselves away to America or +Australia—their lives being only secured while they remained, by the +shelter afforded them in the magistrate’s own house. And so it happened +that, constantly there numbered from ten to twelve of these wretches, inmates +of his family, each of whom had the burden of participation in one murder at +least, waiting for an opportunity to leave the country, unnoticed and +unwatched. +</p> + +<p> +Such a frightful and unnatural state of things, can hardly be conceived; and +yet, shocking as it was, it was a relief to that which led to it. I have dwelt, +perhaps too long upon this painful subject; but let my reader now accompany me +a little farther, and the scene shall be changed. Does he see that long, low, +white house, with a tall, steep roof, perforated with innumerable narrow +windows. There are a few straggling beech trees, upon a low, bleak-looking +field before the house, which is called, par excellence, the lawn; a pig or +two, some geese, and a tethered goat are, here and there musing over the state +of Ireland, while some rosy curly-headed noisy and bare-legged urchins are +gamboling before the door. This is the dwelling of the worshipful justice, to +which myself and my party were now approaching, with that degree of activity +which attends on most marches of twenty miles, under the oppressive closeness +of a day in autumn. Fatigued and tired as I was, yet I could not enter the +little enclosure before the house, without stopping for a moment to admire the +view before me. A large tract of rich country, undulating on every side, and +teeming with corn fields, in all the yellow gold of ripeness; here and there, +almost hid by small clumps of ash and alder, were scattered some cottages, from +which the blue smoke rose in a curling column into the calm evening’s +sky. All was graceful, and beautifully tranquil; and you might have selected +the picture as emblematic of that happiness and repose we so constantly +associate with our ideas of the country; and yet, before that sun had even set, +which now gilded the landscape, its glories would be replaced by the lurid +glare of nightly incendiarism, and—but here, fortunately for my reader, +and perhaps myself, I am interrupted in my meditations by a rich, mellifluous +accent saying, in the true Doric of the south— +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Loorequer! you’re welcome to Curryglass, sir. You’ve had +a hot day for your march. Maybe you’d take a taste of sherry before +dinner? Well then, we’ll not wait for Molowny, but order it up at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, I was ushered into a long, low drawing-room, in which were collected +together about a dozen men, to whom I was specially and severally presented, +and among whom I was happy to find my boarding-house acquaintance, Mr. Daly, +who, with the others, had arrived that same day, for the assizes, and who were +all members of the legal profession, either barristers, attorneys, or clerks of +the peace. +</p> + +<p> +The hungry aspect of the convives, no less than the speed with which dinner +made its appearance after my arrival, showed me that my coming was only waited +for to complete the party—the Mr. Molowny before alluded to, being +unanimously voted present. The meal itself had but slight pretensions to +elegance; there were neither vol au vents, nor croquettes; neither were there +poulets aux truffes, nor cotelletes a la soubise but in their place stood a +lordly fish of some five-and-twenty pounds weight, a massive sirloin, with all +the usual armament of fowls, ham, pigeon-pie, beef-steak, &c. lying in +rather a promiscuous order along either side of the table. The party were +evidently disposed to be satisfied, and I acknowledge, I did not prove an +exception to the learned individuals about me, either in my relish for the good +things, or my appetite to enjoy them. Dulce est desipere in loco, says some +one, by which I suppose is meant, that a rather slang company is occasionally +good fun. Whether from my taste for the “humanities” or not, I am +unable to say, but certainly in my then humour, I should not have exchanged my +position for one of much greater pretensions to elegance and ton. There was +first a general onslaught upon the viands, crashing of plates, jingling of +knives, mingling with requests for “more beef,” “the hard +side of the salmon,” or “another slice of ham.” Then came a +dropping fire of drinking wine, which quickly increased, the decanters of +sherry for about ten minutes resting upon the table, about as long as Taglioni +touches this mortal earth in one of her flying ballets. Acquaintances were +quickly formed between the members of the bar and myself, and I found that my +momentary popularity was likely to terminate in my downfall; for, as each +introduction was followed by a bumper of strong sherry, I did not expect to +last till the end of the feast. The cloth at length disappeared, and I was just +thanking Providence for the respite from hob-nobbing which I imagined was to +follow, when a huge, square decanter of whiskey appeared, flanked by an +enormous jug of boiling water, and renewed preparations for drinking upon a +large scale seriously commenced. It was just at this moment that I, for the +first time, perceived the rather remarkable figure who had waited upon us at +dinner, and who, while I chronicle so many things of little import, deserves a +slight mention. He was a little old man of about fifty-five or sixty years, +wearing upon his head a barrister’s wig, and habited in clothes which +originally had been the costume of a very large and bulky person, and which, +consequently, added much to the drollery of his appearance. He had been, for +forty years, the servant of Judge Vandeleur, and had entered his present +service rather in the light of a preceptor than a menial, invariably dictating +to the worthy justice upon every occasion of etiquette or propriety, by a +reference to what “the judge himself” did, which always sufficed to +carry the day in Nicholas’s favour, opposition to so correct a standard, +never being thought of by the justice. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Billy Crow’s own whiskey, the ‘small +still,’” said Nicholas, placing the decanter upon the table, +“make much of it, for there isn’t such dew in the county.” +</p> + +<p> +With this commendation upon the liquor, Nicholas departed, and we proceeded to +fill our glasses. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot venture—perhaps it is so much the better that I cannot—to +give any idea of the conversation which at once broke out, as if the barriers +that restrained it had at length given way. But law talk in all its plenitude, +followed; and for two hours I heard of nothing but writs, detainers, +declarations, traverses in prox, and alibis, with sundry hints for qui tam +processes, interspersed, occasionally, with sly jokes about packing juries and +confusing witnesses, among which figured the usual number of good things +attributed to the Chief Baron O’Grady and the other sayers of smart +sayings at the bar. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Mr. Daly, drawing a deep sigh at the same +instant—“the bar is sadly fallen off since I was called in the year +seventy-six. There was not a leader in one of the circuits at that time that +couldn’t puzzle any jury that ever sat in a box; and as for driving +through an act of parliament, it was, as Sancho Panza says, cakes and +gingerbread to them. And then, there is one especial talent lost for ever to +the present generation—just like stained glass and illuminated +manuscripts, and slow poisons and the like—that were all known years +ago—I mean the beautiful art of addressing the judge before the jury, and +not letting them know you were quizzing them, if ye liked to do that same. Poor +Peter Purcell for that—rest his ashes—he could cheat the devil +himself, if he had need—and maybe he has had before now, Peter is sixteen +years dead last November.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what was Peter’s peculiar tact in that respect, Mr. +Daly?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then I might try for hours to explain it to you in vain; but +I’ll just give you an instance that’ll show you better than all my +dissertations on the subject, and I was present myself when it happened, more +by token, it was the first time I ever met him on circuit;— +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose there is scarcely any one here now, except myself, that +remembers the great cause of Mills versus Mulcahy, a widow and others, that was +tried in Ennis, in the year ‘82. It’s no matter if there is not. +Perhaps it may be more agreeable for me, for I can tell my story my own +version, and not be interrupted. Well, that was called the old record, for they +tried it seventeen times. I believe, on my conscience, it killed old Jones, who +was in the Common Pleas; he used to say, if he put it for trial on the day of +judgment, one of the parties would be sure to lodge an appeal. Be that as it +may, the Millses engaged Peter special, and brought him down with a great +retainer, in a chaise and four, flags flying, and favors in the +postillions’ hats, and a fiddler on the roof playing the ‘hare in +the corn.’ The inn was illuminated the same evening, and Peter made a +speech from the windows upon the liberty of the press and religious freedom all +over the globe, and there wasn’t a man in the mob didn’t cheer him, +which was the more civil, because few of them knew a word of English, and the +others thought he was a play-actor. But it all went off well, nevertheless, for +Peter was a clever fellow; and although he liked money well, he liked +popularity more, and he never went any where special that he hadn’t a +public meeting of some kind or other, either to abolish rents, or suppress +parsons, or some such popular and beneficial scheme, which always made him a +great favourite with the people, and got him plenty of clients. But I am +wandering from the record. Purcell came down, as I said before, special for +Mills; and when he looked over his brief, and thought of the case, he +determined to have it tried by a gentlemen jury, for although he was a great +man with the mob, he liked the country gentlemen better in the jury box, for he +was always coming out with quotations from the classics, which, whether the +grand jury understood or not, they always applauded very much. Well, when he +came into court that morning, you may guess his surprise and mortification to +find that the same jury that had tried a common ejectment case, were still in +the box, and waiting, by the chief justice’s direction, to try Mills +versus Mulcahy, the great case of the assizes. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear they were a set of common clod-hopping wretches, with frize coats +and brogues, that no man could get round at all, for they were as cunning as +foxes, and could tell blarney from good sense, rather better than people with +better coats on them. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, the moment that Mr. Purcell came into the court, after bowing +politely to the judge, he looked up to the box, and when he saw the dirty faces +of the dealers in pork and potatoes, and the unshaven chins of the small +farmers, his heart fell within him, and he knew in a minute how little +they’d care for the classics—if he quoted Caesar’s +Commentaries itself for them—ignorant creatures as they were! +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the cause was called, and up gets Peter, and he began to +‘express’, (as he always called it himself,) ‘the great +distress his client and himself would labour under, if the patient and most +intelligent jury then on the panel should come to the consideration of so very +tedious a case as this promised to be, after their already most fatiguing +exertions;’ he commented upon their absence from their wives and +families, their farms neglected, their crops hazarded, and in about fifteen +minutes he showed them they were, if not speedily released and sent home, worse +treated and harder used than many of the prisoners condemned to three months +imprisonment; and actually so far worked upon the feelings of the chief +himself, that he turned to the foreman of the jury, and said, ‘that +although it was a great deviation from his habitual practice, if at this +pressing season their prospects were involved to the extent the learned counsel +had pictured, why then, that he would so far bend his practice on this +occasion, and they should be dismissed.’ Now Peter, I must confess, here +showed the most culpable ignorance in not knowing that a set of country +fellows, put up in a jury box, would rather let every glade of corn rot in the +ground, than give up what they always supposed so very respectable an +appointment; for they invariably imagine in these cases that they are something +very like my lord the judge, ‘barrin’ the ermine;’ besides, +that on the present occasion, Peter’s argument in their favour decided +them upon staying, for they now felt like martyrs, and firmly believed that +they were putting the chief justice under an obligation to them for life. +</p> + +<p> +“When, therefore, they heard the question of the court, it did not take a +moment’s time for the whole body to rise en masses and bowing to the +judge, call out, ‘We’ll stay, my lord, and try every mother’s +son of them for you; ay, if it lasted till Christmas. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I am sure, my lord,’ said Peter, collecting himself for an +effort, ‘I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude for the great +sacrifice these gifted and highly intelligent gentlemen are making in my +client’s behalf; for being persons who have great interests in the +country at stake, their conduct on the present occasion is the more +praiseworthy; and I am certain they fully appreciate, as does your lordship, +the difficulty of the case before us, when documents will be submitted, +requiring a certain degree of acquaintance with such testimonials sufficiently +to comprehend. Many of the title deeds, as your lordship is aware, being +obtained under old abbey charters, are in the learned languages; and we all +know how home to our hearts and bosoms comes the beautiful line of the Greek +poet ‘vacuus viator cantabit ante latronem.’” The sound of +the quotation roused the chief justice, who had been in some measure +inattentive to the preceding part of the learned counsel’s address, and +he called out rather sharply, ‘Greek! Mr. Purcell—why I must have +mistaken—will you repeat the passage?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘With pleasure, my lord. I was just observing to your lordship and +the jury, with the eloquent poet Hergesius, ‘vacuus viator cantabit ante +latronem.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Greek, did you call it?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes, my lord, of course I did.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Why, Mr. Purcell, you are quoting Latin to me—and what do +you mean by talking of the learned Hergesius, and Greek all this +time?—the line is Juvenal’s.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘My lord, with much submission to your lordship, and every +deference to your great attainments and very superior talents, let me still +assure you that I am quoting Greek, and that your lordship is in error.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Mr. Purcell, I have only to remark, that if you are desirous of +making a jest of the court, you had better be cautious, I say, sir;’ and +here the judge waxed exceeding wroth. ‘I say the line is +Latin—Latin, sir, Juvenal’s Latin, sir—every schoolboy knows +it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Of course, my lord,’ said Peter, with great humility, +‘I bow myself to the decision of your lordship; the line is, therefore, +Latin. Yet I may be permitted to hint that were your lordship disposed to +submit this question, as you are shortly about to do another and a similar one, +to those clear-sighted and intelligent gentlemen there, I am satisfied, my +lord, it would be Greek to every man of them.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The look, the voice, and the peculiar emphasis with which Peter gave +these words, were perfectly successful. The acute judge anticipated the wish of +the counsel—the jury were dismissed, and Peter proceeded to his case +before those he knew better how to deal with, and with whom the result was more +certain to be as he wished it.” +</p> + +<p> +To this anecdote of the counsellor, succeeded many others, of which, as the +whiskey was potent and the hour late, my memory is not over retentive: the +party did not break up till near four o’clock; and even then, our seance +only concluded, because some one gravely remarked “that as we should be +all actively engaged on the morrow, early hours were advisable.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch20" id="ch20"></a> CHAPTER XX.<br/> +THE ASSIZE TOWN.</h2> + +<p> +I had not been above a week in my new quarters, when my servant presented me, +among my letters one morning, with a packet, which with considerable pains, I +at length recognised to be directed to me. The entire envelope was covered with +writing in various hands, among which I detected something which bore a faint +resemblance to my name; but the address which followed was perfectly +unreadable, not only to me, as it appeared, but also to the +“experts” of the different post-offices, for it had been followed +by sundry directions to try various places beginning with T, which seemed to be +the letter commencing the “great unknown locality:” thus I read +“try Tralee,” “try Tyrone,” “try +Tanderagee,” &c. &c. I wonder that they didn’t add, +“try Teheran,” and I suppose they would at last, rather than +abandon the pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Stubber,” said I, as I conned over the various addresses on +this incomprehensible cover, “are you sure this is for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“The postmaster, sir, desired me to ask you if you’d have it, for +he has offered it to every one down in these parts lately; the waterguard +officers will take it at 8d. Cir, if you won’t, but I begged you might +have the refusal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! very well; I am happy to find matters are managed so impartially in +the post-office here. Nothing like a public cant for making matters find their +true level. Tell the postmaster, then, I’ll keep the letter, and the +rather, as it happens, by good luck, to be intended for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now for the interior,” said I, as I broke the seal and read: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Paris, Rue Castiglione. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“My dear Mr. Lorrequer—As her ladyship and my son have in vain +essayed to get any thing from you in the shape of reply to their letters, it +has devolved upon me to try my fortune, which were I to augur from the +legibility of my writing, may not, I should fear, prove more successful than +the”—(what can the word be?) “the—the”—why, +it can’t be damnable, surely?—no, it is amiable, I +see—“than the amiable epistle of my lady. I cannot, however, permit +myself to leave this without apprising you that we are about to start for +Baden, where we purpose remaining a month or two. Your cousin Guy, who has been +staying for some time with us, has been obliged to set out for Geneva, but +hopes to join in some weeks hence. He is a great favourite with us all, but has +not effaced the memory of our older friend, yourself. Could you not find means +to come over and see us—if only a flying visit? Rotterdam is the route, +and a few days would bring you to our quarters. Hoping that you may feel so +disposed, I have enclosed herewith a letter to the Horse Guards, which I trust +may facilitate your obtaining leave of absence. I know of no other mode of +making your peace with the ladies, who are too highly incensed at your +desertion to send one civil postscript to this letter; and Kilkee and myself +are absolutely exhausted in our defence of you. Believe me, yours truly, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Callonby.” +</p> + +<p> +Had I received an official notification of my being appointed paymaster to the +forces, or chaplain to Chelsea hospital, I believe I should have received the +information with less surprise than I perused this letter—that after the +long interval which had elapsed, during which I had considered myself totally +forgotten by this family, I should now receive a letter—and such a +letter, too—quite in the vein of our former intimacy and good feeling, +inviting me to their house, and again professing their willingness that I +should be on the terms of our old familiarity—was little short of +wonderful to me. I read, too—with what pleasure?—that slight +mention of my cousin, whom I had so long regarded as my successful rival, but +who I began now to hope had not been preferred to me. Perhaps it was not yet +too late to think that all was not hopeless. It appeared, too, that several +letters had been written which had never reached me; so, while I accused them +of neglect and forgetfulness, I was really more amenable to the charge myself; +for, from the moment I had heard of my cousin Guy’s having been +domesticated amongst them, and the rumours of his marriage had reached me, I +suffered my absurd jealousy to blind my reason, and never wrote another line +after. I ought to have known how “bavarde” [boasting] Guy always +was—that he never met with the most commonplace attentions any where, +that he did not immediately write home about settlements and pin-money, and +portions for younger children, and all that sort of nonsense. Now I saw it all +plainly, and ten thousand times quicker than my hopes were extinguished before +were they again kindled, and I could not refrain from regarding Lady Jane as a +mirror of constancy, and myself the most fortunate man in Europe. My old +castle-building propensities came back upon me in an instant, and I pictured +myself, with Lady Jane as my companion, wandering among the beautiful scenery +of the Neckar, beneath the lofty ruins of Heidelberg, or skimming the placid +surface of the Rhine, while, “mellowed by distance,” came the rich +chorus of a student’s melody, filling the air with its flood of song. How +delightful, I thought, to be reading the lyrics of Uhland, or Buerger, with one +so capable of appreciating them, with all the hallowed associations of the +“Vaterland” about us! Yes, said I aloud, repeating the well-known +line of a German “Lied”— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Bakranzt mit Laub, den lieben vollen Becher.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my conscience,” said Mr. Daly, who had for some time past +been in silent admiration of my stage-struck appearance—“upon my +conscience, Mr. Lorrequer, I had no conception you knew Irish.” +</p> + +<p> +The mighty talisman of the Counsellor’s voice brought me back in a moment +to a consciousness of where I was then standing, and the still more fortunate +fact that I was only a subaltern in his majesty’s —th—. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my dear Counsellor, that was German I was quoting, not +Irish.” +</p> + +<p> +“With all my heart,” said Mr. Daly, breaking the top off his third +egg—“with all my heart; I’d rather you’d talk it than +me. Much conversation in that tongue, I’m thinking, would be mighty apt +to loosen one’s teeth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all, it is the most beautiful language in Europe, and the most +musical too. Why, even for your own peculiar taste in such matters, where can +you find any language so rich in Bacchanalian songs as German?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rather hear the “Cruiskeen Lawn” or the “Jug +of Punch” as my old friend Pat. Samson could sing them, than a score of +your high Dutch jawbreakers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shame upon ye, Mr. Daly; and for pathos, for true feeling, where is +there anything equal to Schiller’s ballads?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I’ve ever heard any of his; but if you will +talk of ballads,” said the Counsellor, “give me old Mosey +M’Garry’s: what’s finer than”—and here began, +with a most nasal twang and dolorous emphasis, to sing— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“‘And I stepp’d up unto her,<br/> + An’ I made a congee—<br/> +And I ax’d her, her pardon<br/> + For the making so free.’ +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“And then the next verse, she says— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“‘Are you goin’ to undo me,<br/> + In this desert alone?’— +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“There’s a shake there.” +</p> + +<p> +“For Heaven’s sake,” I cried, “stop; when I spoke of +ballads, I never meant such infernal stuff as that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll not give up my knowledge of ballads to any man +breathing,” said Mr. Daly; “and, with God’s blessing, +I’ll sing you one this evening, after dinner, that will give you a cramp +in the stomach.” +</p> + +<p> +An animated discussion upon lyrical poetry was here interrupted by a summons +from our host to set out for the town. My party were, by the desire of the +magistracy, to be in readiness near the court-house, in the event of any +serious disturbance, which there existed but too much reason to fear from the +highly excited state of feeling on the subject of the approaching trials. The +soldiers were, under the guidance of Mr. Larkins, safely ensconced in a +tan-yard; and I myself, having consigned them for the present to a +non-commissioned officer, was left at perfect liberty to dispose of my time and +person as it might please me. +</p> + +<p> +While these arrangements were taking place, I had entirely lost sight of Mr. +Daly, under whose guidance and protection I trusted to obtain a place within +the bar to hear the trials; so that I was now perfectly alone, for my +host’s numerous avocations entirely precluded any thought of my putting +myself under his care. +</p> + +<p> +My first object was to reach the court-house, and there could be little +difficulty in finding it, for the throng of persons in the street were all +eagerly bending their way thither. I accordingly followed with the stream, and +soon found myself among an enormous multitude of frize-coated and red-cloaked +people, of both sexes, in a large open square, which formed the market-place, +one side of which was flanked by the court-house—for as such I +immediately recognized a massive-looking grey stone building—in which the +numerous windows, all open and filled with people, exhaled a continued steam +from the crowded atmosphere within. To approach it was perfectly impossible: +for the square was packed so closely, that as the people approached, by the +various streets, they were obliged to stand in the avenues leading to it, and +regard what was going on from a distance. Of this large multitude I soon became +one, hoping that at length some fortunate opportunity might enable me to obtain +admission through some of my legal acquaintances. +</p> + +<p> +That the fate of those who were then upon their trial for their lives absorbed +the entire feelings of those without, a momentary glance at the hundreds of +anxious and care-worn faces in the crowd, would completely satisfy. Motionless +and silent they stood: they felt no fatigue—no want of food or +refreshment—their interest was one and undivided—all their hopes +and fears were centered in the events then passing at a short distance from +them, but to which their ignorance imparted an additional and more painful +excitement—the only information of how matters were going on being by an +occasional word, sometimes a mere gesture from some one stationed in the +windows to a friend in the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +When the contemplation of this singularly impressive scene was beginning to +weary from the irksomeness of my position, I thought of retiring: but soon +discovered how impossible was such a step. The crowd had blocked up so +completely all the avenues of approach, that even had I succeeded in getting +from the market-place, it would be only to remain firmly impacted among the mob +in the street. +</p> + +<p> +It now also occurred to me, that although I had been assured by Larkins no call +could possibly be made upon my services or those of my party, till after the +trial, yet, were that to conclude at any moment, I should be perfectly unable +to regain the place where I had stationed them, and the most serious +consequences might ensue from the absence of their officer, if the men were +required to act. +</p> + +<p> +From the time this thought took possession of me, I became excessively +uncomfortable. Every expression of the people that denoted the progress of the +trial, only alarmed me for the conclusion, which I supposed, might not be +distant, and I began, with all my ingenuity, to attempt my retreat, which, +after half an hour’s severe struggle, I completely abandoned, finding +myself scarcely ten yards from where I started. +</p> + +<p> +At length, the counsel for the crown, who had been speaking to evidence, +ceased; and an indistinct murmur was heard through the court-house, which was +soon repressed by the voice of the crier calling “silence.” All now +seemed still and silent as the grave—yet, on listening attentively, for +some time, you could catch the low tones of a voice speaking, as it appeared, +with great deliberation and slowness. This was the judge addressing the jury. +In a short time this also ceased; and, for about half an hour, the silence was +perfectly unbroken, and both within and without there reigned one intense and +aching sense of anxiety that absorbed every feeling, and imparted to every face +an expression of almost agonizing uncertainty. It was, indeed, a space well +calculated to excite such emotions. The jury had retired to deliberate upon +their verdict. At length a door was heard to open, and the footsteps of the +jury, as they resumed their places, sounded through the court, and were heard +by those without. How heavily upon many a stout heart those footsteps fell! +They had taken their seats—then came another pause—after which the +monotonous tones of the clerk of the court were heard, addressing the jury for +their verdict. As the foreman rises every ear is bent—every eye +strained—every heart-string vibrates: his lips move, but he is not heard; +he is desired by the judge to speak louder; the colour mounts to his before +bloodless face; he appears to labour for a few seconds with a mighty effort, +and, at last, pronounces the words, “Guilty, my Lord—all +guilty!” +</p> + +<p> +I have heard the wild war-whoop of the red Indian, as, in his own pine forest, +he has unexpectedly come upon the track of his foe, and the almost extinguished +hope of vengeance has been kindled again in his cruel heart—I have +listened to the scarcely less savage hurra of a storming party, as they have +surmounted the crumbling ruins of a breach, and devoted to fire and sword, with +that one yell, all who await them—and once in my life it has been my +fortune to have heard the last yell of defiance from a pirate crew, as they +sunk beneath the raking fire of a frigate, rather than surrender, and went down +with a cheer of defiance that rose even above the red artillery that destroyed +but could not subdue them;—but never, in any or all of these awful +moments, did my heart vibrate to such sounds as rent the air when the fatal +“Guilty” was heard by those within, and repeated to those without. +It was not grief—it was not despair—neither was it the cry of sharp +and irrepressible anguish, from a suddenly blighted hope—but it was the +long pent-up and carefully-concealed burst of feeling which called aloud for +vengeance—red and reeking revenge upon all who had been instrumental in +the sentence then delivered. It ceased, and I looked towards the court-house, +expecting that an immediate and desperate attack upon the building and those +whom it contained would at once take place. But nothing of the kind ensued; the +mob were already beginning to disperse, and before I recovered perfectly from +the excitement of these few and terrible moments, the square was nearly empty, +and I almost felt as if the wild and frantic denunciation that still rang +through my ears, had been conjured up by a heated and fevered imagination. +</p> + +<p> +When I again met our party at the dinner table, I could not help feeling +surprised on perceiving how little they sympathized in my feeling for the +events of the day; which, indeed, they only alluded to in a professional point +of view—criticising the speeches of the counsel on both sides, and the +character of the different witnesses who were examined. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Mr. Daly, addressing our host, “you never could +have had a conviction to-day if it wasn’t for Mike. He’s the best +evidence I ever heard. I’d like to know very much how you ever got so +clever a fellow completely in your clutches?” +</p> + +<p> +“By a mere accident, and very simply,” replied the justice. +“It was upon one of our most crowded fair days—half the county was +in town, when the information arrived that the Walshes were murdered the night +before, at the cross-roads above Telenamuck mills. The news reached me as I was +signing some tithe warrants, one of which was against Mickey. I sent for him +into the office, knowing that as he was in the secret of all the evil doings, I +might as well pretend to do him a service, and offer to stop the warrant, out +of kindness as it were. Well, one way or another, he was kept waiting for +several hours while I was engaged in writing, and all the country people, as +they passed the window, could look in and see Mickey Sheehan standing before +me, while I was employed busily writing letters. It was just at this time, that +a mounted policeman rode in with the account of the murder; upon which I +immediately issued a warrant to arrest the two MacNeills and Owen Shirley upon +suspicion. I thought I saw Mike turn pale, as I said the names over to the +serjeant of police, and I at once determined to turn it to account; so I +immediately began talking to Mickey about his own affairs, breaking off, every +now and then, to give some directions about the men to be captured. The crowd +outside was increasing every instant, and you need not have looked at their +faces twice, to perceive that they had regarded Mickey as an approver; and the +same night that saw the MacNeills in custody, witnessed the burning of +Sheehan’s house and haggart, and he only escaped by a miracle over to +Curryglass, where, once under my protection, with the imputation upon his +character of having turned King’s evidence, I had little trouble in +persuading him that he might as well benefit by the report as enjoy the name +without the gain. He soon complied, and the convictions of this day are partly +the result.” +</p> + +<p> +When the applause which greeted this clever stroke of our host had subsided, I +enquired what results might, in all likelihood, follow the proceedings of which +I had that day been a witness? +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing will be done immediately,” replied the justice, +“because we have a large force of police and military about us; but let +either, or unhappily both, be withdrawn, and the cry you heard given in the +market-place to-day will be the death-wail for more than one of those who are +well and hearty at this moment.” +</p> + +<p> +The train of thought inevitably forced upon me by all I had been a spectator of +during the day, but little disposed me to be a partaker in the mirth and +conviviality which, as usual, formed the staple of the assize dinners of Mr. +Larkins; and I accordingly took an early opportunity to quit the company and +retire for the night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch21" id="ch21"></a> CHAPTER XXI.<br/> +A DAY IN DUBLIN.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus11"></a> +<a href="images/fig11.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig11.jpg" width="485" height="600" alt="Illustration: Mr. +Burke’s Enthusiasm for the Duke of Wellington" /></a> +<p class="caption">Mr. Burke’s Enthusiasm for the Duke of Wellington</p> +</div> + +<p> +On the third day of my residence at Curryglass, arrived my friend, Mortimer, to +replace me, bringing my leave from the colonel, and a most handsome letter, in +which he again glanced at the prospect before me in the Callonby family, and +hinted at my destination, which I had not alluded to, adding, that if I made +the pretence of study in Germany the reason for my application at the Horse +Guards, I should be almost certain to obtain a six months’ leave. With +what spirits I ordered Stubber to pack up my portmanteau, and secure our places +in the Dublin mail for that night, while I myself hurried to take leave of my +kind entertainer and his guests, as well as to recommend to their favor and +attention my excellent friend Mortimer, who, being a jovial fellow, not at all +in love, was a happy exchange for me, who, despite Daly’s capital +stories, had spent the last two days in watching the high road for my +successor’s arrival. +</p> + +<p> +Once more then, I bade adieu to Curryglass and its hospitable owner, whose +labours for “justice to Ireland” I shall long remember, and +depositing myself in the bowels of his majesty’s mail, gave way to the +full current of my hopes and imaginings, which at last ended in a sound and +refreshing sleep, from which I only awoke as we drew up at the door of the +Hibernian, in Dawson-street. +</p> + +<p> +Even at that early hour there was considerable bustle and activity of +preparation, which I was at some loss to account for, till informed by the +waiter that there were upwards of three hundred strangers in the house, it +being the day of his majesty’s expected arrival on his visit to Ireland, +and a very considerable section of the county Galway being at that moment, with +their wives and families, installed, for the occasion, in this, their favourite +hotel. +</p> + +<p> +Although I had been reading of this approaching event every day for the last +three months, I could not help feeling surprised at the intense appearance of +excitement it occasioned, and, in the few minutes’ conversation I held +with the waiter, learned the total impossibility of procuring a lodging +anywhere, and that I could not have a bed, even were I to offer five guineas +for it. Having, therefore, no inclination for sleep, even upon easier terms, I +ordered my breakfast to be ready at ten, and set out upon a stroll through the +town. I could not help, in my short ramble through the streets, perceiving how +admirably adapted were the worthy Dublinites for all the honors that awaited +them; garlands of flowers, transparencies, flags, and the other insignia of +rejoicing, were everywhere in preparation, and, at the end of Sackville-street, +a considerable erection, very much resembling an impromptu gallows, was being +built, for the purpose, as I afterwards learnt, of giving the worshipful the +lord mayor the opportunity of opening the city gates to royalty; creating the +obstacle where none existed; being a very ingenious conceit, and considerably +Irish into the bargain. I could not help feeling some desire to witness how all +should go off, to use the theatrical phrase; but, in my anxiety to get on to +the continent, I at once abandoned every thought of delay. When I returned to +the coffee-room of my hotel, I found it crowded to excess; every little table, +originally destined for the accommodation of one, having at least two, and +sometimes three occupants. In my hurried glance round the room, to decide where +I should place myself, I was considerably struck with the appearance of a stout +elderly gentleman, with red whiskers, and a high, bald forehead; he had, +although the day was an oppressively hot one, three waistcoats on, and by the +brown York tan of his long topped boots, evinced a very considerable contempt +either for weather or fashion; in the quick glance of his sharp grey eye, I +read that he listened half doubtingly to the narrative of his companion, whose +back was turned towards me, but who appeared, from the occasional words which +reached me, to be giving a rather marvellous and melodramatic version of the +expected pleasures of the capital. There was something in the tone of the +speaker’s voice that I thought I recognised; I accordingly drew near, and +what was my surprise to discover my friend Tom O’Flaherty. After our +first salutation was over, Tom presented me to his friend, Mr. Burke, of +somewhere, who, he continued to inform me, in a stage whisper, was a +“regular dust,” and never in Dublin in his life before. +</p> + +<p> +“And so, you say, sir, that his majesty cannot enter without the +permission of the lord mayor?” +</p> + +<p> +“And the aldermen, too,” replied Tom. “It is an old feudal +ceremony; when his majesty comes up to the gate, he demands admission, and the +lord mayor refuses, because he would be thus surrendering his great prerogative +of head of the city; then the aldermen get about him, and cajole him, and by +degrees he’s won over by the promise of being knighted, and the king +gains the day, and enters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my conscience, a mighty ridiculous ceremony it is, after +all,” said Mr. Burke, “and very like a bargain for sheep in +Ballinasloe fair, when the buyer and seller appear to be going to fight, till a +mutual friend settles the bargain between them.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but, my dear Mr. O’Flaherty, you forget how ignorant I am of +every thing here—” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, true,” said Tom, interrupting; “I forgot you never saw +him before.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who is he, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that’s the Duke of Wellington.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 reechoed the shouts and +cheering till he was hid within the precincts of the Mansion House. +</p> + +<p> +“And, now,” said Tom to me, “finish your breakfast as fast as +possible; for, when Burke comes back he will be boring me to dine with him, or +some such thing, as a kind of acknowledgment of his gratitude for showing him +the Duke. Do you know he has seen more wonders through my poor instrumentality, +within the last three days in Dublin than a six months’ trip to the +continent would show most men. I have made him believe that Burke Bethel is +Lord Brougham, and I am about to bring him to a soiree at Mi-Ladi’s, who +he supposes to be the Marchioness of Conyngham. Apropos to the Bellissima, let +me tell you of a ‘good hit’ I was witness to a few nights since; +you know, perhaps, old Sir Charles Giesecke, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have seen him once, I think—the professor of mineralogy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, poor old Sir Charles, one of the most modest and retiring men in +existence, was standing the other night among the mob, in one of the +drawing-rooms, while a waltzing-party were figuring away, at which, with that +fondness for ‘la danse’ that characterizes every German of any age, +he was looking with much interest, when my lady came tripping up, and the +following short dialogue ensued within my ear-shot:—” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, mon cher, Sir Charles, ravi de vous voir. But why are you not +dancing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, mi ladi, Je ne puis pas, c’est a dire, Ich kann es nicht; I am +too old; Ich bin—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you horrid man; I understand you perfectly. You hate ladies, that is +the real reason. You do—you know you do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my ladi, Gnaedige frau; glauben sie mir; I do loave de ladies; I do +adore de sex. Do you know, my ladi, when I was in Greenland I did keep four +womans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, shocking, horrid, vile Sir Charles, how could you tell me such a +story? I shall die of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, mine Gott, mi ladi; sie irren sich, vous, vous trompez. You are +quite in mistake; it was only to row my boat!” +</p> + +<p> +“I leave you to guess how my lady’s taste for the broad-side of the +story, and poor Sir Charles’s vindication of himself, in regard to his +estimation of ‘le beau sexe,’ amused all who heard it; as for me, I +had to leave the room, half-choked with suppressed laughter. And, now, let us +bolt, for I see Burke coming, and, upon my soul I am tired of telling him lies, +and must rest on my oars for a few hours at least.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where is the necessity for so doing?” said I, “surely, +where there is so much of novelty as a large city presents to a visitor for the +first time, there is little occasion to draw upon imagination for your +facts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my dear Harry, how little do you know of life; there is a kind of +man whose appetite for the marvellous is such, that he must be crammed with +miracles or he dies of inanition, and you might as well attempt to feed a tiger +upon pate de foie gras, as satisfy him by mere naked unvarnished truth. +I’ll just give you an easy illustration; you saw his delight this morning +when the ‘Duke’ rode past; well I’ll tell you the converse of +that proposition now. The night before last, having nothing better to do, we +went to the theatre; the piece was ‘La Perouse,’ which they have +been playing here for the last two months to crowded houses, to exhibit some +North American Indians whom some theatrical speculator brought over +‘expres’, in all the horrors of fur, wampum, and yellow ochre. +Finding the ‘spectacle’ rather uninteresting I leaned back in my +box, and fell into a doze. Meanwhile, my inquiring friend, Mr. Burke, who felt +naturally anxious, as he always does, to get au fond at matters, left his place +to obtain information about the piece, the audience, and, above all, the +authenticity of the Indians, who certainly astonished him considerably. +</p> + +<p> +“Now it so happened that about a fortnight previously some violent +passion to return home to their own country had seized these interesting +individuals, and they felt the most irresistible longing to abandon the savage +and unnatural condiments of roast beef and Guinness’s porter, and resume +their ancient and more civilized habits of life. In fact, like the old African +lady, mentioned by the missionary at the Cape, they felt they could die happy +if they ‘could only once more have a roast child for supper,’ and +as such luxuries are dear in this country, stay another week they would not, +whatever the consequences might be; the manager reasoned, begged, implored and +threatened, by turns; all would not do, go they were determined, and all that +the unfortunate proprietor could accomplish was, to make a purchase of their +properties in fur, belts, bows, arrows, and feathers, and get them away +quietly, without the public being the wiser. The piece was too profitable a one +to abandon, so he looked about anxiously, to supply the deficiency in his corps +dramatique. For several days nothing presented itself to his thoughts, and the +public were becoming more clamorous for the repetition of a drama which had +greatly delighted them. What was to be done? In a mood of doubt and uncertainty +the wretched manager was taking his accustomed walk upon the light-house pier, +while a number of unfortunate country fellows, bare legged and lanky, with hay +ropes fastening their old grey coats around them, were standing beside a packet +about to take their departure for England, for the harvest. Their uncouth +appearance, their wild looks, their violent gestures, and, above all, their +strange and guttural language, for they were all speaking Irish, attracted the +attention of the manager; the effect, to his professional eye was good, the +thought struck him at once. Here were the very fellows he wanted. It was +scarcely necessary to alter any thing about them, they were ready made to his +hand, and in many respects better savages than their prototypes. Through the +mediation of some whiskey, the appropriate liquor in all treaties of this +nature, a bargain was readily struck, and in two hours more, ‘these forty +thieves’ were rehearsing upon the classic boards of our theatre, and once +more, La Perouse, in all the glory of red capital letters, shone forth in the +morning advertisements. The run of the piece continued unabated; the Indians +were the rage; nothing else was thought or spoken of in Dublin, and already the +benefit of Ashewaballagh Ho was announced, who, by the by, was a little fellow +from Martin’s estate in Connemara, and one of the drollest dogs I ever +heard of. Well, it so happened that it was upon one of their nights of +performing that I found myself, with Mr. Burke, a spectator of their +proceedings; I had fallen into an easy slumber, while a dreadful row in the box +lobby roused me from my dream, and the loud cry of ‘turn him out,’ +‘pitch him over,’ ‘beat his brains out,’ and other +humane proposals of the like nature, effectually restored me to consciousness; +I rushed out of the box into the lobby, and there, to my astonishment, in the +midst of a considerable crowd, beheld my friend, Mr. Burke, belaboring the +box-keeper with all his might with a cotton umbrella of rather unpleasant +proportions, accompanying each blow with an exclamation of ‘well, are +they Connaughtmen, now, you rascal, eh? are they all west of Athlone, tell me +that, no? I wonder what’s preventing me beating the soul out of +ye.’ After obtaining a short cessation of hostilities, and restoring poor +Sharkey to his legs, much more dead than alive from pure fright, I learned, at +last, the teterrima causa belli. Mr. Burke, it seems, had entered into +conversation with Sharkey, the box-keeper, as to all the particulars of the +theatre, and the present piece, but especially as to the real and authentic +history of the Indians, whose language he remarked, in many respects to +resemble Irish. Poor Sharkey, whose benefit-night was approaching, thought he +might secure a friend for life, by imparting to him an important state secret; +and when, therefore, pressed rather closely as to the ‘savages’ +whereabout’ resolved to try a bold stroke, and trust his unknown +interrogator. ‘And so you don’t really know where they come from, +nor can’t guess?’ ‘Maybe, Peru,’ said Mr. Burke, +innocently. ‘Try again, sir,’ said Sharkey, with a knowing grin. +‘Is it Behring’s Straits?’ said Mr. Burke. ‘What do you +think of Galway, sir?’ said Sharkey, with a leer intended to cement a +friendship for life; the words were no sooner out of his lips, than Burke, who +immediately took them as a piece of direct insolence to himself and his +country, felled him to the earth, and was in the act of continuing the +discipline when I arrived on the field of battle.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch22" id="ch22"></a> CHAPTER XXII.<br/> +A NIGHT AT HOWTH.</h2> + +<p> +“And must you really leave us so soon,” said Tom as we issued forth +into the street; “why I was just planning a whole week’s adventure +for you. Town is so full of all kinds of idle people, I think I could manage to +make your time pass pleasantly enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of that,” I replied, “I have little doubt; but for the +reasons I have just mentioned, it is absolutely necessary that I should not +lose a moment; and after arranging a few things here, I shall start to-morrow +by the earliest packet, and hasten up to London at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jupiter,” said Tom, “how lucky. I just remember +something, which comes admirably apropos. You are going to Paris—is it +not so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, direct to Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing could be better. There is a particularly nice person, a great +friend of mine, Mrs. Bingham, waiting for several days in hopes of a chaperon +to take care of herself and daughter—a lovely girl, only nineteen, you +wretch—to London, en route to the continent: the mamma a delightful +woman, and a widow, with a very satisfactory jointure—you +understand—but the daughter, a regular downright beauty, and a ward in +chancery, with how many thousand pounds I am afraid to trust myself to say. You +must know then they are the Binghams of—, upon my soul, I forget where; +but highly respectable.” +</p> + +<p> +“I regret I have not the pleasure of their acquaintance, and the more +because I shall not be able to make it now.” +</p> + +<p> +“As why?” said Tom gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, in the first place, I am so confoundedly pressed for time that +I could not possibly delay under any contingency that might arise; and your +fair friends are, doubtless, not so eagerly determined upon travelling night +and day till they reach Paris. Secondly, to speak candidly, with my present +hopes and fears weighing upon my mind, I should not be the most agreeable +travelling companion to two ladies with such pretensions as you speak of; and +thirdly,—” +</p> + +<p> +“Confound your thirdly. I suppose we shall have sixteenthly, like a +Presbyterian minister’s sermon, if I let you go on. Why, they’ll +not delay you one hour. Mrs. Bingham, man, cares as little for the road as +yourself; and as for your petits soins, I suppose if you get the fair ladies +through the Custom-House, and see them safe in a London hotel, it is all will +be required at your hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Notwithstanding all you say, I see the downright impossibility of my +taking such a charge at this moment, when my own affairs require all the little +attention I can bestow; and when, were I once involved with your fair friends, +it might be completely out of my power to prosecute my own plans.” +</p> + +<p> +As I said this, we reached the door of a handsome looking house in +Kildare-street; upon which Tom left my arm, and informing me that he desired to +drop a card, knocked loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Mrs. Bingham at home,” said he, as the servant opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +“No sir, she’s out in the carriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see Harry, your ill luck befriends you; for I was resolved on +presenting you to my friends and leaving the rest to its merits.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can safely assure you that I should not have gone up stairs,” +said I. “Little as I know of myself, there is one point of my character I +have never been deceived in, the fatal facility by which every new incident or +adventure can turn me from following up my best matured and longest digested +plans; and as I feel this weakness and cannot correct it; the next best thing I +can do is fly the causes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my soul,” said Tom, “you have become quite a +philosopher since we met. There is an old adage which says, ‘no king is +ever thoroughly gracious if he has not passed a year or two in +dethronement;’ so I believe your regular lady-killer—yourself for +instance—becomes a very quiet animal for being occasionally jilted. But +now, as you have some commissions to do, pray get done with them as fast as +possible, and let us meet at dinner. Where do you dine to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, upon that point, I am at your service completely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I have got a plan which I think will suit you. You said you +wished to go by Holyhead, for fear of delay; so, we’ll drive down at six +o’clock to Skinner’s and dine with him on board the packet at +Howth. Bring your luggage with you, and it will save you a vast deal of fuss +and trouble in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Nothing could be better management for me than this, so I accordingly promised +acquiescence; and having appointed a rendezvous for six o’clock, bade +O’Flaherty good by, inwardly rejoicing that my plans were so far +forwarded, and that I was not to be embarrassed with either Mrs. Bingham or her +daughter, for whose acquaintance or society I had no peculiar ambition. +</p> + +<p> +My commissions, though not very numerous, occupied the few hours which +remained, and it was already a few minutes past six o’clock when I took +my stand under the piazza of the Post Office to wait for O’Flaherty. I +had not long to do so, for immediately after I had reached the spot, he arrived +in an open barouche and four posters, with three other young men, to whom he +severally introduced me, but whose names I have totally forgotten; I only +remember that two of the party were military men then quartered in town. +</p> + +<p> +When I had taken my seat, I could not help whispering to Tom, that although his +friend Skinner might be “bon” for a visitation or two at his +dinner, yet as we were now so strong a party, it might be as well to dine at +the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said he, “I have arranged all that; I have sent him a +special messenger two hours since, and so make your mind easy—we shall +not be disappointed, nor be short-taken.” +</p> + +<p> +Our drive, although a long one, passed quickly over, and before we had reached +our destination, I had become tolerably intimate with all the party, who were +evidently picked men, selected by O’Flaherty for a pleasant evening. +</p> + +<p> +We drove along the pier to the wharf, where the steamer lay, and were received +at once by Tom’s friend with all the warm welcome and hospitality of a +sailor, united with the address and polish of a very finished gentleman. As we +descended the companion-ladder to the cabin, my mind became speedily divested +of any fears I might have indulged in, as to the want of preparation of our +entertainer. The table was covered with all the appanage of handsome plate and +cut glass, while the side-tables glittered with a magnificent dessert, and two +large wine-coolers presented an array of champagne necks shining with their +leaden cravats that would have tempted an anchorite. +</p> + +<p> +I remember very little else of that evening than the coup d’oeil I have +mentioned; besides, were my memory more retentive, I might scruple to trespass +farther on my reader’s patience, by the detail of those pleasures, which, +like love-letters, however agreeable to the parties immediately concerned, are +very unedifying to all others. I do remember, certainly, that good stories and +capital songs succeeded each other with a rapidity only to be equalled by the +popping of corks; and have also a very vague and indistinct recollection of a +dance round the table, evidently to finish a chorus, but which, it appears, +finished me too, for I saw no more that night. +</p> + +<p> +How many men have commemorated the waking sensations of their fellow-men, after +a night’s debauch; yet at the same time, I am not aware of any one having +perfectly conveyed even a passing likeness to the mingled throng of sensations +which crowd one’s brain on such an occasion. The doubt of what has +passed, by degrees yielding to the half-consciousness of the truth, the feeling +of shame, inseparable except to the habitually hard-goer, for the events thus +dimly pictured, the racking headache and intense thirst, with the horror of the +potation recently indulged in: the recurring sense of the fun or drollery of a +story or an incident which provokes us again to laugh despite the jarring of +our brain from the shaking. All this and more most men have felt, and happy are +they when their waking thoughts are limited to such, at such times as +these—the matter becomes considerably worse, when the following morning +calls for some considerable exertion, for which even in your best and calmest +moments, you only find yourself equal. +</p> + +<p> +It is truly unpleasant, on rubbing your eyes and opening your ears, to discover +that the great bell is ringing the half-hour before your quarterly examination +at college, while Locke, Lloyd, and Lucian are dancing a reel through your +brain, little short of madness; scarcely less agreeable is it, to learn that +your friend Captain Wildfire is at the door in his cab, to accompany you to the +Phœnix, to stand within twelve paces of a cool gentleman who has been sitting +with his arm in Eau de Cologne for the last half-hour, that he may pick you out +“artist-like.” There are, besides these, innumerable situations in +which our preparations of the night would appear, as none of the wisest; but I +prefer going at once to my own, which, although considerably inferior in +difficulty, was not without its own “desagremens.” +</p> + +<p> +When I awoke, therefore, on board the “Fire-fly,” the morning after +our dinner-party, I was perfectly unable, by any mental process within my +reach, to discover where I was. On ship-board I felt I must be—the narrow +berth—the gilded and panelled cabin which met my eye, through my +half-open curtains, and that peculiar swelling motion inseparable from a vessel +in the water, all satisfied me of this fact. I looked about me, but could see +no one to give me the least idea of my position. Could it be that we were on +our way out to Corfu, and that I had been ill for some time past? +</p> + +<p> +But this cabin had little resemblance to a transport; perhaps it might be a +frigate—I knew not. Then again, were we sailing, or at anchor, for the +ship was nearly motionless; at this instant a tremendous noise like thunder +crashed through my head, and for a moment I expected we had exploded, and would +be all blown up; but an instant after I discovered it must be the escape of the +steam, and that I was on board a packet ship. Here, then, was some clue to my +situation, and one which would probably have elicited all in due season; but +just at this moment a voice on deck saved me from any further calculations. Two +persons were conversing whose voices were not altogether unknown to me, but why +I knew not. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Captain, I suppose you consider this as an excellent +passage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course I do,” replied the captain, “it’s only +five hours since we left Howth, and now you see we are nearly in; if we have +this run of the tide we shall reach the Head before twelve +o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! ha!” said I to myself, “now I begin to learn something. +So we have crossed the channel while I was sleeping—not the least +agreeable thing for a man to hear who suffers martyrdom from sea +sickness—but let me listen again.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that large mountain there—is that Snowdon?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. You cannot see Snowdon; there is too much mist about it; that +mountain is Capel Carrig; and there that bold bluff to the eastward, that is +Penmen Mawr.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, there is no time to be lost,” thought I; so springing out of +my berth, accoutred as I was, in merely trowsers and slippers, with a red +handkerchief fastened night-cap fashion round my head, I took my way through +the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +My first thought on getting upon my legs was how tremendously the vessel +pitched, which I had not remarked while in my berth, but now I could scarce +keep myself from falling at every step. I was just about to call the steward, +when I again heard the voices on deck. +</p> + +<p> +“You have but few passengers this trip.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think only yourself and a Captain Lorrequer,” replied the +captain, “who, by-the-by, is losing all this fine coast, which is +certainly a great pity.” +</p> + +<p> +“He shall not do so much longer,” thought I; “for as I find +that there are no other passengers, I’ll make my toilet on deck, and +enjoy the view besides.” With this determination I ascended slowly and +cautiously the companion ladder, and stepped out upon the deck; but scarcely +had I done so, when a roar of the loudest laughter made me turn my head towards +the poop, and there to my horror of horrors, I beheld Tom O’Flaherty +seated between two ladies, whose most vociferous mirth I soon perceived was +elicited at my expense. +</p> + +<p> +All the party of the preceding night were also there, and as I turned from +their grinning faces to the land, I saw, to my shame and confusion, that we +were still lying beside the pier at Howth; while the band-boxes, trunks, and +imperials of new arrivals were incessantly pouring in, as travelling carriages +kept driving up to the place of embarkation. I stood perfectly astounded and +bewildered—shame for my ridiculous costume would have made me fly at any +other time—but there I remained to be laughed at patiently, while that +villain O’Flaherty leading me passively forward, introduced me to his +friends—“Mrs. Bingham, Mr. Lorrequer; Mr. Lorrequer, Miss Bingham. +Don’t be prepossessed against him, ladies, for when not in love, and +properly dressed, he is a marvellously well-looking young gentleman; and +as—” +</p> + +<p> +What the remainder of the sentence might be, I knew not, for I rushed down into +the cabin, and locking the door, never opened it till I could perceive from the +stern windows that we were really off on our way to England, and recognized +once more the laughing face of O’Flaherty, who, as he waved his hat to +his friends from the pier, reminded them that “they were under the care +and protection of his friend Lorrequer, who, he trusted, would condescend to +increase his wearing apparel under the circumstances.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch23" id="ch23"></a> CHAPTER XXIII.<br/> +THE JOURNEY.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus12"></a> +<a href="images/fig12.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig12.jpg" width="511" height="600" alt="Illustration: The +Passport Office" /></a> +<p class="caption">The Passport Office</p> +</div> + +<p> +When I did at last venture upon deck, it was with a costume studiously +accurate, and as much of manner as I could possibly muster, to endeavour at +once to erase the unfortunate impression of my first appearance; this, however, +was not destined to be a perfectly successful manoeuvre, and I was obliged +after a few minutes to join the laugh, which I found could not be repressed, at +my expense. One good result certainly followed from all this. I became almost +immediately on intimate terms with Mrs. Bingham and her daughter, and much of +the awkwardness in my position as their chaperon, which bon gre, mal gre I was +destined to be, was at once got over. Mrs. Bingham herself was of that +“genre” of widow which comes under the “fat, fair, and +forty” category, with a never-ceasing flow of high, almost boisterous, +spirits—an excellent temper, good health—and a well-stocked purse. +Life to her was like a game of her favourite “speculation.” When, +as she believed, the “company honest,” and knew her cards trumps, +she was tolerably easy for the result. She liked Kingstown—she liked +short whist—she liked the military—she liked “the junior +bar,” of which she knew a good number—she had a well furnished +house in Kildare-street—and a well cushioned pew in St. +Anne’s—she was a favourite at the castle—and Dr. Labatt +“knew her constitution.” Why, with all these advantages, she should +ever have thought of leaving the “happy valley” of her native city, +it was somewhat hard to guess. Was it that thoughts of matrimony, which the +continent held out more prospect for, had invaded the fair widow’s heart? +was it that the altered condition to which politics had greatly reduced Dublin, +had effected this change of opinion? or was it like that indescribable longing +for the unknown something, which we read of in the pathetic history of the fair +lady celebrated, I believe, by Petrarch, but I quote from memory: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Mrs. Gill is very ill,<br/> + Nothing can improve her,<br/> +But to see the Tuillerie,<br/> + And waddle through the Louvre.” +</p> + +<p> +None of these, I believe, however good and valid reasons in themselves, were +the moving powers upon the present occasion; the all-sufficient one being that +Mrs. Bingham had a daughter. Now Miss Bingham was Dublin too—but Dublin +of a later edition—and a finer, more hot-pressed copy than her mamma. She +had been educated at Mrs. Somebody’s seminary in +Mountjoy-square—had been taught to dance by Montague—and had +learned French from a Swiss governess—with a number of similar +advantages—a very pretty figure—dark eyes—long eye-lashes and +a dimple—and last, but of course least, the deserved reputation of a +large fortune. She had made a most successful debut in the Dublin world, where +she was much admired and flattered, and which soon suggested to her quick mind, +as it has often done in similar cases to a young provincial debutante, not to +waste her “fraicheur” upon the minor theatres, but at once to +appear upon the “great boards;” so far evidencing a higher flight +of imagination and enterprise than is usually found among the clique of her +early associates, who may be characterized as that school of young ladies, who +like the “Corsair” and Dunleary, and say, “ah +don’t!” +</p> + +<p> +She possessed much more common sense than her mamma, and promised under proper +advantages to become speedily quite sufficiently acquainted with the world and +its habitudes. In the meanwhile, I perceived that she ran a very considerable +risque of being carried off by some mustachoed Pole, with a name like a sneeze, +who might pretend to enjoy the entree into the fashionable circles of the +continent. +</p> + +<p> +Very little study of my two fair friends enabled me to see thus much; and very +little “usage” sufficed to render me speedily intimate with both; +the easy bonhommie of the mamma, who had a very methodistical appreciation of +what the “connexion” call “creature comforts,” amused +me much, and opened one ready path to her good graces by the opportunity +afforded of getting up a luncheon of veal cutlets and London porter, of which I +partook, not a little to the evident loss of the fair daughter’s esteem. +</p> + +<p> +While, therefore, I made the tour of the steward’s cell in search of +Harvey’s sauce, I brushed up my memory of the Corsair and Childe Harold, +and alternately discussed Stilton and Southey, Lover and lobsters, Haynes +Bayley and ham. +</p> + +<p> +The day happened to be particularly calm and delightful, so that we never left +the deck; and the six hours which brought us from land to land, quickly passed +over in this manner; and ere we reached “the Head,” I had become +the warm friend and legal adviser of the mother; and with the daughter I was +installed as chief confidant of all her griefs and sorrows, both of which +appointments cost me a solemn promise to take care of them till their arrival +in Paris, where they had many friends and acquaintances awaiting them. Here, +then, as usual, was the invincible facility with which I gave myself up to any +one who took the trouble to influence me. One thing, nevertheless, I was +determined on, to let no circumstance defer my arrival at Paris a day later +than was possible: therefore, though my office as chaperon might diminish my +comforts en route, it should not interfere with the object before me. Had my +mind not been so completely engaged with my own immediate prospects, when hope +suddenly and unexpectedly revived, had become so tinged with fears and doubts +as to be almost torture, I must have been much amused with my present position, +as I found myself seated with my two fair friends, rolling along through Wales +in their comfortable travelling carriage—giving all the orders at the +different hotels—seeing after the luggage—and acting en maitre in +every respect. +</p> + +<p> +The good widow enjoyed particularly the difficulty which my precise position, +with regard to her and her daughter, threw the different innkeepers on the road +into, sometimes supposing me to be her husband, sometimes her son, and once her +son-in-law; which very alarming conjecture brought a crimson tinge to the fair +daughter’s cheek, an expression, which, in my ignorance, I thought looked +very like an inclination to faint in my arms. +</p> + +<p> +At length we reached London, and having been there safely installed at +“Mivart’s,” I sallied forth to present my letter to the Horse +Guards, and obtain our passport for the continent. +</p> + +<p> +“Number nine, Poland-street, sir” said the waiter, as I inquired +the address of the French Consul. Having discovered that my interview with the +commander-in-chief was appointed for four o’clock, I determined to lose +no time, but make every possible arrangement for leaving London in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +A cab quietly conveyed me to the door of the Consul, around which stood several +other vehicles, of every shape and fashion, while in the doorway were to be +seen numbers of people, thronging and pressing, like the Opera pit on a full +night. Into the midst of this assemblage I soon thrust myself, and, borne upon +the current, at length reached a small back parlour, filled also with people; a +door opening into another small room in the front, showed a similar mob there, +with the addition of a small elderly man, in a bag wig and spectacles, very +much begrimed with snuff, and speaking in a very choleric tone to the various +applicants for passports, who, totally ignorant of French, insisted upon +interlarding their demands with an occasional stray phrase, making a kind of +tesselated pavement of tongues, which would have shamed Babel. Nearest to the +table at which the functionary sat, stood a mustachoed gentleman, in a blue +frock and white trowsers, a white hat jauntily set upon one side of his head, +and primrose gloves. He cast a momentary glance of a very undervaluing import +upon the crowd around him, and then, turning to the Consul, said in a very +soprano tone— +</p> + +<p> +“Passport, monsieur!” +</p> + +<p> +“Que voulez vous que je fasse,” replied the old Frenchman, gruffly. +</p> + +<p> +“Je suis j’ai—that is, donnez moi passport.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you go?” replied the Consul. +</p> + +<p> +“Calai.” +</p> + +<p> +“Comment diable, speak Inglis, an I understan’ you as besser. Your +name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lorraine Snaggs, gentilhomme.” +</p> + +<p> +“What age have you?—how old?” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-two.” +</p> + +<p> +“C’est ca,” said the old consul, flinging the passport across +the table, with the air of a man who thoroughly comprehended the +applicant’s pretension to the designation of gentilhomme Anglais. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you be seated ma’mselle?” said the polite old +Frenchman, who had hitherto been more like a bear than a human +being—“Ou allez vous donc; where to, ma chere?” +</p> + +<p> +“To Paris, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Calais?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir; by Boulogne”— +</p> + +<p> +“C’est bon; quel age avez vous. What old, ma belle?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nineteen, sir, in June.” +</p> + +<p> +“And are you alone, quite, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, my little girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! your leetel girl—c’est fort bien—je +m’appercois; and your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fanny Linwood, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“C’est fini, ma chere, Mademoiselle Fanni Linwood,” said the +old man, as he wrote down the name. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, I beg your pardon, but you have put me down Mademoiselle, +and—and—you see, sir, I have my little girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“A c’est egal, mam’selle, they don’t mind these things +in France—au plaisir de vous voir. Adieu.” +</p> + +<p> +“They don’t mind these things in France,” said I to myself, +repeating the old consul’s phrase, which I could not help feeling as a +whole chapter on his nation. +</p> + +<p> +My business was soon settled, for I spoke nothing but English—very little +knowledge of the world teaching me that when we have any favour, however +slight, to ask, it is always good policy to make the amende by gratifying the +amour propre of the granter—if, happily, there be an opportunity for so +doing. +</p> + +<p> +When I returned to Mivart’s, I found a written answer to my letter of the +morning, stating that his lordship of the Horse Guards was leaving town that +afternoon, but would not delay my departure for the continent, to visit which a +four month’s leave was granted me, with a recommendation to study at +Weimar. +</p> + +<p> +The next day brought us to Dover, in time to stroll about the cliffs during the +evening, when I again talked sentiment with the daughter till very late. The +Madame herself was too tired to come out, so that we had our walk quite alone. +It is strange enough how quickly this travelling together has shaken us into +intimacy. Isabella says she feels as if I were her brother; and I begin to +think myself she is not exactly like a sister. She has a marvellously pretty +foot and ancle. +</p> + +<p> +The climbing of cliffs is a very dangerous pastime. How true the French +adage—“C’est plus facile de glisser sur la gazon que sur la +glace.” But still nothing can come of it; for if Lady Jane be not false, +I must consider myself an engaged man. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but I hope,” said I, rousing myself from a reverie of some +minutes, and inadvertently pressing the arm which leaned upon +me—“your mamma will not be alarmed at our long absence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! not in the least; for she knows I’m with you.” +</p> + +<p> +And here I felt a return of the pressure—perhaps also inadvertently +given, but which, whether or not, effectually set all my reasonings and +calculations astray; and we returned to the hotel, silent on both sides. +</p> + +<p> +The appearance of la chere mamma beside the hissing tea-urn brought us both +back to ourselves; and, after an hour’s chatting, we wished good night, +to start on the morrow for the continent. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch24" id="ch24"></a> CHAPTER XXIV.<br/> +CALAIS.</h2> + +<p> +It was upon a lovely evening in autumn, as the Dover steam-boat rounded the +wooden pier at Calais, amid a fleet of small boats filled with eager and +anxious faces, soliciting, in every species of bad English and +“patois” [vulgar] French, the attention and patronage of the +passengers. +</p> + +<p> +“Hotel de Bain, mi lor’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hotel d’Angleterre,” said another, in a voice of the most +imposing superiority. “C’est superbe—pretty well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hotel du Nord, votre Excellence—remise de poste and +‘delays’ (quere relays) at all hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Commissionaire, mi ladi,” sung out a small shrill treble from the +midst of a crowded cock-boat, nearly swamped beneath our paddle-wheel. +</p> + +<p> +What a scene of bustle, confusion, and excitement does the deck of a steamer +present upon such an occasion. Every one is running hither or thither. +“Sauve qui peut” is now the watch-word; and friendships, that +promised a life-long endurance only half an hour ago, find here a speedy +dissolution. The lady who slept all night upon deck, enveloped in the folds of +your Astracan cloak, scarcely deigns an acknowledgment of you, as she adjusts +her ringlets before the looking-glass over the stove in the cabin. The polite +gentleman, that would have flown for a reticule or a smelling-bottle upon the +high seas, won’t leave his luggage in the harbour; and the gallantry and +devotion that stood the test of half a gale of wind and a wet jacket, is not +proof when the safety of a carpet-bag or the security of a +“Mackintosh” is concerned. +</p> + +<p> +And thus here, as elsewhere, is prosperity the touchstone of good feeling. All +the various disguises which have been assumed, per viaggio, are here +immediately abandoned, and, stripped of the travelling costume of urbanity and +courtesy, which they put on for the voyage, they stand forth in all the +unblushing front of selfishness and self-interest. +</p> + +<p> +Some tender scenes yet find their place amid the debris of this chaotic state. +Here may be seen a careful mother adjusting innumerable shawls and +handkerchiefs round the throat of a sea-green young lady with a cough; her maid +is at the same instant taking a tender farewell of the steward in the +after-cabin. +</p> + +<p> +Here is a very red-faced and hot individual, with punch-coloured breeches and +gaiters, disputing “one brandy too much” in his bill, and vowing +that the company shall hear of it when he returns to England. There, a tall, +elderly woman, with a Scotch-grey eye, and a sharp cheek-bone, is depositing +within her muff various seizable articles, that, until now, had been lying +quietly in her trunk. Yonder, that raw-looking young gentleman, with the +crumpled frock-coat, and loose cravat, and sea-sick visage, is asking every one +“if they think he may land without a passport.” You scarcely +recognise him for the cigar-smoking dandy of yesterday, that talked as if he +had lived half his life on the continent. While there, a rather pretty girl is +looking intently at some object in the blue water, beside the rudder post. You +are surprised you cannot make it out; but then, she has the advantage of you, +for the tall, well-looking man, with the knowing whiskers, is evidently +whispering something in her ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Steward, this is not my trunk—mine was a leather—” +</p> + +<p> +“All the ‘leathers’ are gone in the first boat, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Most scandalous way of doing business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Trouble you for two-and-sixpence, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Matilda coughing again,” says a thin, shrewish +woman, with a kind of triumphant scowl at her better half; “but you would +have her wear that thin shawl!” +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever may be the fault of the shawl, I fancy no one will reproach her +ancles for thinness,” murmurs a young Guard’s man, as he peeps up +the companion-ladder. +</p> + +<p> +Amid all the Babel of tongues, and uproar of voices, the thorough bass of the +escape steam keeps up its infernal thunders, till the very brain reels, and, +sick as you have been of the voyage, you half wish yourself once more at sea, +if only to have a moment of peace and tranquillity. +</p> + +<p> +Numbers now throng the deck who have never made their appearance before. Pale, +jaundiced, and crumpled, they have all the sea-sick look and haggard cheek of +the real martyr—all except one, a stout, swarthy, brown-visaged man, of +about forty, with a frame of iron, and a voice like the fourth string of a +violincello. You wonder why he should have taken to his bed: learn, then, that +he is his Majesty’s courier from the foreign office, going with +despatches to Constantinople, and that as he is not destined to lie down in a +bed for the next fourteen days, he is glad even of the narrow resemblance to +one, he finds in the berth of a steam-boat. At length you are on shore, and +marched off in a long string, like a gang of convicts to the Bureau de +l’octroi, and here is begun an examination of the luggage, which +promises, from its minuteness, to last for the three months you destined to +spend in Switzerland. At the end of an hour you discover that the soi disant +commissionaire will transact all this affair for a few francs; and, after a +tiresome wait in a filthy room, jostled, elbowed, and trampled upon, by boors +with sabots, you adjourn to your inn, and begin to feel that you are not in +England. +</p> + +<p> +Our little party had but few of the miseries here recounted to contend with. My +“savoir faire,” with all modesty be it spoken, has been long +schooled in the art and practice of travelling; and while our less experienced +fellow-travellers were deep in the novel mysteries of cotton stockings and +petticoats, most ostentatiously displayed upon every table of the Bureau, we +were comfortably seated in the handsome saloon of the Hotel du Nord, looking +out upon a pretty grass plot, surrounded with orange trees, and displaying in +the middle a jet d’eau about the size of a walking stick. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mr. Lorrequer,” said Mrs. Bingham, as she seated herself by +the open window, “never forget how totally dependent we are upon your +kind offices. Isabella has discovered already that the French of +Mountjoy-square, however intelligible in that neighbourhood, and even as far as +Mount-street, is Coptic and Sanscrit here; and as for myself, I intend to +affect deaf and dumbness till I reach Paris, where I hear every one can speak +English a little.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, then, to begin my functions,” said I, as I rung for the +waiter, and ran over in my mind rapidly how many invaluable hints for my new +position my present trip might afford me, “always provided” (as the +lawyers say,) that Lady Jane Callonby might feel herself tempted to become my +travelling companion, in which case—But, confound it, how I am +castle-building again. Meanwhile, Mrs. Bingham is looking as hungry and +famished as though she would eat the waiter. Ha! this is the +“carte.” +</p> + +<p> +“Allons faire petit souper.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cotelettes d’Agneau.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maionnaise d’homard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perdreaux rouges aux truffes—mark that, aux truffes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gelee au maraschin.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the wine, sir,” said the waiter, with a look of approval at my +selection, “Champagne—no other wine, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said I, “Champagne only. Frappe de glace, of +course,” I added, and the waiter departed with a bow that would have +graced St. James’s. +</p> + +<p> +As long as our immaterial and better part shall be doomed to keep company with +its fleshy tabernacle, with all its attendant miseries of gout and indigestion, +how much of our enjoyment in this world is dependent upon the mere accessory +circumstances by which the business of life is carried on and maintained, and +to despise which is neither good policy nor sound philosophy. In this +conclusion a somewhat long experience of the life of a traveller has fully +established me. And no where does it press more forcibly upon the mind than +when first arrived in a continental inn, after leaving the best hotels of +England still fresh in your memory. I do not for a moment dispute the very +great superiority in comfort of the latter, by which I would be understood to +mean all those resemblances to one’s own home which an English hotel so +eminently possesses, and every other one so markedly wants; but I mean that in +contrivances to elevate the spirit, cheer the jaded and tired wayfarer by +objects which, however they may appeal to the mere senses, seem, at least, but +little sensual, give me a foreign inn; let me have a large spacious saloon, +with its lofty walls and its airy, large-paned windows, (I shall not object if +the cornices and mouldings be gilded, because such is usually the +case,)—let the sun and heat of a summer’s day come tempered through +the deep lattices of a well-fitting “jalousie,” bearing upon them +the rich incense of a fragrant orange tree in blossom—and the sparkling +drops of a neighbouring fountain, the gentle plash of which is faintly audible +amid the hum of the drone-bee—let such be the “agremens” +without—while within, let the more substantial joys of the table await, +in such guise as only a French cuisine can present them—give me these, I +say, and I shall never sigh for the far-famed and long-deplored comforts of a +box in a coffee-room, like a pew in a parish church, though certainly not so +well cushioned, and fully as dull, with a hot waiter and a cold +beefsteak—the only thing higher than your game being your bill, and the +only thing less drinkable than your port being the porter. +</p> + +<p> +With such exotic notions, figures vous, my dear reader, whether or not I felt +happy as I found myself seated between my two fair friends doing the honours of +a little supper, and assisting the exhilaration of our champagne by such +efforts of wit as, under favourable circumstances like these, are ever +successful—and which, being like the foaming liquid which washes them +down, to be swallowed without waiting, are ever esteemed good, from the +excitement that results, and never seriously canvassed for any more sterling +merit. Nothing ever makes a man so agreeable as the belief that he is so: and +certainly my fair companions appeared to have the most excellent idea of my +powers in that respect; and I fancy, that I made more bon mots, hit off more +epigrams, and invented more choice incidents on that happy evening, than, if +now remembered, would suffice to pay my tailor’s bill, when collated for +Bentley’s Miscellany, and illustrated by Cruikshank—alas! that, +like the good liquor that seasoned them, both are gone by, and I am left but to +chronicle their memory of the fun, in dulness, and counterfeit the +effervescence of the grape juice, by soda water. One thing, however, is +certain—we formed a most agreeable party; and if a feeling of gloom ever +momentarily shot through my mind, it was, that evenings like these came so +rarely in this work-a-day world—that each such should be looked on, as +our last. +</p> + +<p> +If I had not already shown myself up to my reader as a garcon volage of the +first water, perhaps I should now hesitate about confessing that I half +regretted the short space during which it should be my privilege to act as the +guide and mentor of my two friends. The impetuous haste which I before felt +necessary to exercise in reaching Paris immediately, was not tempered by +prudent thoughts about travelling at night, and reflections about sun-stroke by +day; and even moments most devoted to the object of my heart’s +aspirations were fettered by the very philosophic idea, that it could never +detract from the pleasure of the happiness that awaited me, if I travelled on +the primrose path to its attainment. I argued thus: if Lady Jane be +true—if—if, in a word, I am destined to have any success in the +Callonby family, then will a day or two more not risk it. My present friends I +shall, of course, take leave of at Paris, where their own acquaintances await +them; and, on the other hand, should I be doomed once more to disappointment, I +am equally certain I should feel no disposition to form a new attachment. Thus +did I reason, and thus I believed; and though I was a kind of consultation +opinion among my friends in “suits of love,” I was really then +unaware that at no time is a man so prone to fall in love as immediately after +his being jilted. If common sense will teach us not to dance a bolero upon a +sprained ancle, so might it also convey the equally important lesson, not to +expose our more vital and inflammatory organ to the fire the day after its +being singed. +</p> + +<p> +Reflections like these did not occur to me at this moment; besides that I was +“going the pace” with a forty-horse power of agreeability that left +me little time for thought—least of all, if serious. So stood matters. I +had just filled our tall slender glasses with the creaming and +“petillan” source of wit and inspiration, when the loud crack, +crack, crack of a postillion’s whip, accompanied by the shaking trot of a +heavy team, and the roll of wheels, announced a new arrival. “Here they +come,” said I, “only look at them—four horses and one +postillion, all apparently straggling and straying after their own fancy, but +yet going surprisingly straight notwithstanding. See how they come through that +narrow archway—it might puzzle the best four-in-hand in England to do it +better.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a handsome young man, if he had not those odious moustaches. Why, +Mr. Lorrequer, he knows you: see, he is bowing to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me! Oh! no. Why, surely, it must be—the devil—it is Kilkee, +Lady Jane’s brother. I know his temper well. One five minutes’ +observation of my present intimacy with my fair friends, and adieu to all hopes +for me of calling Lord Callonby my father-in-law. There is not therefore, a +moment to lose.” +</p> + +<p> +As these thoughts revolved through my mind, the confusion I felt had covered my +face with scarlet; and, with a species of blundering apology for abruptly +leaving them for a moment, I ran down stairs only in time sufficient to +anticipate Kilkee’s questions as to the number of my apartments, to which +he was desirous of proceeding at once. Our first greetings over, Kilkee +questioned me as to my route—adding, that his now was necessarily an +undecided one, for if his family happened not to be at Paris, he should be +obliged to seek after them among the German watering-places. “In any +case, Mr. Lorrequer,” said he, “we shall hunt them in couples. I +must insist upon your coming along with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! that,” said I, “you must not think of. Your carriage is +a coupé, and I cannot think of crowding you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you don’t seriously want to affront me, I hope, for I flatter +myself that a more perfect carriage for two people cannot be built. Hobson made +it on a plan of my own, and I am excessively proud of it, I assure you. Come, +that matter is decided—now for supper. Are there many English here just +now?—By-the-by, those new ‘natives’ I think I saw you +standing with on the balcony—who are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! the ladies—oh! Yes, people I came over with—” +</p> + +<p> +“One was pretty, I fancied. Have you supped? Just order something, will +you—meanwhile, I shall write a few lines before the post +leaves.”—Saying which, he dashed up stairs after the waiter, and +left me to my meditations. +</p> + +<p> +“This begins to be pleasant,” thought I, as the door closed, +leaving me alone in the “salon.” In circumstances of such moment, I +had never felt so nonplussed as now, how to decline Kilkee’s invitation, +without discovering my intimacy with the Binghams—and yet I could not, by +any possibility, desert them thus abruptly. Such was the dilemma. “I see +but one thing for it,” said I, gloomily, as I strode through the +coffee-room, with my head sunk and my hands behind my back—“I see +but one thing left—I must be taken ill to-night, and not be able to leave +my bed in the morning—a fever—a contagious fever—blue and red +spots all over me—and be raving wildly before breakfast time; and if ever +any discovery takes place of my intimacy above stairs, I must only establish it +as a premonitory symptom of insanity, which seized me in the packet. And now +for a doctor that will understand my case, and listen to reason, as they would +call it in Ireland.” With this idea uppermost, I walked out into the +court-yard to look for a commissionaire to guide me in my search. Around on +every side of me stood the various carriages and voitures of the hotel and its +inmates, to the full as distinctive and peculiar in character as their owners. +“Ah! there is Kilkee’s,” said I, as my eye lighted upon the +well-balanced and elegant little carriage which he had been only with justice +encomiumizing. “It is certainly perfect, and yet I’d give a handful +of louis-d’ors it was like that venerable cabriolet yonder, with the one +wheel and no shafts. But, alas! these springs give little hope of a break down, +and that confounded axle will outlive the patentee. But still, can nothing be +done?—eh? Come, the thought is a good one—I say, garcon, who +greases the wheels of the carriage here?” +</p> + +<p> +“C’est moi, monsieur,” said a great oaf, in wooden shoes and +a blouse. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, do you understand these?” said I, touching the patent +axle-boxes with my cane. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Then who does, here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Michael understands them perfectly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then bring him here,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes, a little shrewd old fellow, with a smith’s apron, made +his appearance, and introduced himself as M. Michael. I had not much difficulty +in making him master of my plan, which was, to detach one of the wheels as if +for the purpose of oiling the axle, and afterwards render it incapable of being +replaced—at least for twenty-four hours. +</p> + +<p> +“This is my idea,” said I; “nevertheless, do not be +influenced by me. All I ask is, disable the carriage from proceeding to-morrow, +and here are three louis-d’ors at your service.” +</p> + +<p> +“Soyez bien tranquille, monsieur, mi lor’ shall spend to-morrow in +Calais, if I know any thing of my art”—saying which he set out in +search of his tools, while I returned to the salon with my mind relieved, and +fully prepared to press the urgency of my reaching Paris without any delay. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mr. Lorrequer,” said Kilkee, as I entered, “here is +supper waiting, and I am as hungry as a wolf.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I beg pardon—I’ve been getting every thing in readiness +for our start to-morrow morning, for I have not told you how anxious I am to +get to Paris before the 8th—some family business, which requires my +looking after, compelling me to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“As to that, let your mind be at rest, for I shall travel to-morrow night +if you prefer it. Now for the Volnay. Why you are not drinking your wine. What +do you say to our paying our respects to the fair ladies above stairs? I am +sure the petits soins you have practised coming over would permit the +liberty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! hang it, no. There’s neither of them pretty, and I should +rather avoid the risk of making a regular acquaintance with them” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“As you like, then—only, as you’ll not take any wine, let us +have a stroll through the town.” +</p> + +<p> +After a short stroll through the town, in which Kilkee talked the entire time, +but of what I know not, my thoughts being upon my own immediate concerns, we +returned to the hotel. As we entered the porte-couchere, my friend Michael +passed me, and as he took off his hat in salutation, gave me one rapid glance +of his knowing eye that completely satisfied me that Hobson’s pride in my +friend’s carriage had by that time received quite sufficient provocation +to throw him into an apoplexy. +</p> + +<p> +“By-the-by,” said I, “let us see your carriage. I am curious +to look at it”—(and so I was.) +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then come along, this way; they have placed it under some of these +sheds, which they think coach-houses.” +</p> + +<p> +I followed my friend through the court till we arrived near the fatal spot; but +before reaching, he had caught a glimpse of the mischief, and shouted out a +most awful imprecation upon the author of the deed which met his eye. The +fore-wheel of the coupé had been taken from the axle, and in the difficulty of +so doing, from the excellence of the workmanship, two of the spokes were +broken—the patent box was a mass of rent metal, and the end of the axle +turned downwards like a hoe. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot convey any idea of poor Kilkee’s distraction; and, in reality, +my own was little short of it; for the wretch had so far out-stripped my +orders, that I became horrified at the cruel destruction before me. We both, +therefore, stormed in the most imposing English and French, first separately +and then together. We offered a reward for the apprehension of the culprit, +whom no one appeared to know, although, as it happened, every one in a large +household was aware of the transaction but the proprietor himself. We abused +all—innkeeper, waiters, ostlers, and chambermaids, collectively and +individually—condemned Calais as a den of iniquity, and branded all +Frenchmen as rogues and vagabonds. This seemed to alleviate considerably my +friend’s grief, and excite my thirst—fortunately, perhaps for us; +for if our eloquence had held out much longer, I am afraid our auditory might +have lost their patience; and, indeed, I am quite certain if our French had not +been in nearly as disjointed a condition as the spokes of the caleche, such +must have been the case. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mr. Lorrequer, I suppose, then, we are not destined to be +fellow-travellers—for if you must go to-morrow—” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! It is imperative,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Then in any case, let us arrange where we shall meet, for I hope to be +in Paris the day after you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll stop at Meurice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Meurice, be it,” said he, “so now good night, till we meet +in Paris.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch25" id="ch25"></a> CHAPTER XXV.<br/> +THE GEN D’ARME.</h2> + +<p> +I had fortunately sufficient influence upon my fair friends to persuade them to +leave Calais early on the morning following; and two hours before Kilkee had +opened his eyes upon this mortal life, we were far upon the road to Paris. +</p> + +<p> +Having thus far perfectly succeeded in my plot, my spirit rose rapidly, and I +made every exertion to make the road appear short to my fellow-travellers. This +part of France is unfortunately deficient in any interest from scenery; large +undivided tracts of waving cornfields, with a back-ground of apparently +interminable forests, and occasionally, but rarely, the glimpse of some old +time-worn chateau, with its pointed gable and terraced walk, are nearly all +that the eye can detect in the intervals between the small towns and villages. +Nothing, however, is “flat or unprofitable” to those who desire to +make it otherwise; good health, good spirits, and fine weather, are wonderful +travelling companions, and render one tolerably independent of the charms of +scenery. Every mile that separated me from Calais, and took away the chance of +being overtaken, added to my gaiety, and I flatter myself that a happier party +have rarely travelled that well frequented road. +</p> + +<p> +We reached Abbeville to dinner, and adjourned to the beautiful little garden of +the inn for our coffee; the evening was so delightful that I proposed to walk +on the Paris road, until the coming up of the carriage, which required a screw, +or a washer, or some such trifle as always occurs in French posting. To this la +chere mamma objected, she being tired, but added, that Isabella and I might go +on, and that she would take us up in half an hour. This was an arrangement so +very agreeable and unlooked for by me, that I pressed Miss Bingham as far as I +well could, and at last succeeded in overcoming her scruples, and permitting me +to shawl her. One has always a tremendous power of argument with the +uninitiated abroad, by a reference to a standard of manners and habits totally +different from our own. Thus the talismanic words—“Oh! don’t +be shocked; remember you are in France,” did more to satisfy my young +friend’s mind than all I could have said for an hour. Little did she know +that in England only, has an unmarried young lady any liberty, and that the +standard of foreign propriety on this head is far, very far more rigid than our +own. +</p> + +<p> +“La premiere Rue a gauche,” said an old man of whom I inquired the +road; “et puis,” added I. +</p> + +<p> +“And then quite straight; it is a chaussee all the way, and you cannot +mistake it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now for it, mademoiselle,” said I. “Let us try if we cannot +see a good deal of the country before the carriage comes up.” +</p> + +<p> +We had soon left the town behind and reached a beautifully shaded high road, +with blossoming fruit trees, and honeysuckle-covered cottages; there had been +several light showers during the day, and the air had all the fresh fragrant +feeling of an autumn evening, so tranquillizing and calming that few there are +who have not felt at some time or other of their lives, its influence upon +their minds. I fancied my fair companion did so, for, as she walked beside me, +her silence, and the gentle pressure of her arm, were far more eloquent than +words. +</p> + +<p> +If that extraordinary flutter and flurry of sensations which will now and then +seize you, when walking upon a lonely country road with a pretty girl for your +companion, whose arm is linked in yours, and whose thoughts, as far you can +guess at least, are travelling the same path with your own—if this be +animal magnetism, or one of its phenomena, then do I swear by Mesmer, whatever +it be, delusion or otherwise, it has given me the brightest moments of my +life—these are the real “winged dreams” of pleasures which +outlive others of more absorbing and actual interest at the time. After all, +for how many of our happiest feelings are we indebted to the weakness of our +nature. The man that is wise at nineteen, “Je l’en fais mon +compliment,” but I assuredly do not envy him; and now, even now, when I +number more years than I should like to “confess,” rather than +suffer the suspicious watchfulness of age to creep on me, I prefer to “go +on believing,” even though every hour of the day should show me, duped +and deceived. While I plead guilty to this impeachment, let me show mitigation, +that it has its enjoyments—first, although I am the most constant and +devoted man breathing, as a very cursory glance at these confessions may prove, +yet I have never been able to restrain myself from a propensity to make love, +merely as a pastime. The gambler that sits down to play cards, or hazard +against himself, may perhaps be the only person that can comprehend this +tendency of mine. We both of us are playing for nothing (or love, which I +suppose is synonymous;) we neither of us put forth our strength; for that very +reason, and in fact like the waiter at Vauxhall who was complimented upon the +dexterity with which he poured out the lemonade, and confessed that he spent +his mornings “practising with vater,” we pass a considerable +portion of our lives in a mimic warfare, which, if it seem unprofitable, is, +nevertheless, pleasant. +</p> + +<p> +After all this long tirade, need I say how our walk proceeded? We had fallen +into a kind of discussion upon the singular intimacy which had so rapidly grown +up amongst us, and which years long might have failed to engender. Our attempts +to analyse the reasons for, and the nature of the friendship thus so suddenly +established—a rather dangerous and difficult topic, when the parties are +both young—one eminently handsome, and the other disposed to be most +agreeable. Oh, my dear young friends of either sex, whatever your feelings be +for one another, keep them to yourselves; I know of nothing half so hazardous +as that “comparing of notes” which sometimes happens. Analysis is a +beautiful thing in mathematics or chemistry, but it makes sad havoc when +applied to the “functions of the heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mamma appears to have forgotten us,” said Isabella, as she spoke, +after walking for some time in silence beside me. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, depend upon it, the carriage has taken all this time to repair; but +are you tired?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, by no means; the evening is delightful, but—” +</p> + +<p> +“Then perhaps you are <i>ennuyée</i>,” said I, half pettishly, to +provoke a disclaimer if possible. To this insidiously put quere I received, as +I deserved, no answer, and again we sauntered on without speaking. +</p> + +<p> +“To whom does that chateau belong, my old friend?” said I +addressing a man on the road-side. +</p> + +<p> +“A Monsieur le Marquis, sir,” replied he. +</p> + +<p> +“But what’s his name, though?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that I can’t tell you,” replied the man again. +</p> + +<p> +There you may perceive how, even yet, in provincial France, the old respect for +the aristocracy still survives; it is sufficient that the possessor of that +fine place is “Monsieur le Marquis;” but any other knowledge of who +he is, and what, is superfluous. “How far are we from the next village, +do you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“About a league.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed. Why I thought ‘La Scarpe’ was quite near us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you are thinking of the Amiens road.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course; and is not this the Amiens road?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no; the Amiens road lies beyond those low hills to the right. You +passed the turn at the first ‘barriere’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it possible we could have come wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Lorrequer, don’t say so, I entreat of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what road is this, then, my friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is the road to Albert and Peronne.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately, I believe he is quite right. Is there any crossroad from +the village before us now, to the Amiens road?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; you can reach it about three leagues hence.” +</p> + +<p> +“And we can get a carriage at the inn probably?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that I am not sure of—. Perhaps at the Lion d’or you +may.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why not go back to Abbeville?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mrs. Bingham must have left long since, and beside you forget the +distance; we have been walking two hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now for the village,” said I, as I drew my friend’s arm +closer within mine, and we set out in a fast walk. +</p> + +<p> +Isabella seemed terribly frightened at the whole affair; what her mamma might +think, and what might be her fears at not finding us on the road, and a hundred +other encouraging reflections of this nature she poured forth unceasingly. As +for myself, I did not know well what to think of it; my old fondness for +adventure being ever sufficiently strong in me to give a relish to any thing +which bore the least resemblance to one. This I now concealed, and sympathised +with my fair friend upon our mishap, and assuring her, at the same time, that +there could be no doubt of our overtaking Mrs. Bingham before her arrival at +Amiens. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, there is the village in the valley; how beautifully situated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I can’t admire any thing now, Mr. Lorrequer, I am so +frightened.” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely without cause,” said I, looking tenderly beneath her +bonnet. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this,” she answered, “nothing,” and we walked on in +silence again. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the Lion d’or we discovered that the only conveyance to be +had was a species of open market-cart drawn by two horses, and in which it was +necessary that my fair friend and myself should seat ourselves side by side +upon straw: there was no choice, and as for Miss Bingham, I believe if an ass +with panniers had presented itself, she would have preferred it to remaining +where she was. We therefore took our places, and she could not refrain from +laughing as we set out upon our journey in this absurd equipage, every jolt of +which threw us from side to side, and rendered every attention on my part +requisite to prevent her being upset. +</p> + +<p> +After about two hours’ travelling we arrived at the Amiens road, and +stopped at the barriere. I immediately inquired if a carriage had passed, +resembling Mrs. Bingham’s, and learned that it had, about an hour before, +and that the lady in it had been informed that two persons, like those she +asked after, had been seen in a caleche driving rapidly to Amiens, upon which +she set out as fast as possible in pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said I, “the plot is thickening; but for that +unlucky mistake she might in all probability have waited here for us. Amiens is +only two leagues now, so our drive will not be long, and before six +o’clock we shall all be laughing over the matter as a very good +joke.” +</p> + +<p> +On we rattled, and as the road became less frequented, and the shadows +lengthened, I could not but wonder at the strange situations which the +adventurous character of my life had so often involved me in. Meanwhile, my +fair friend’s spirits became more and more depressed, and it was not +without the greatest difficulty I was enabled to support her courage. I assured +her, and not altogether without reason, that though so often in my eventful +career accidents were occurring which rendered it dubious and difficult to +reach the goal I aimed at, yet the results had so often been more pleasant than +I could have anticipated, that I always felt a kind of involuntary satisfaction +at some apparent obstacle to my path, setting it down as some especial means of +fortune, to heighten the pleasure awaiting me; “and now,” added I, +“even here, perhaps, in this very mistake of our road—the +sentiments I have heard—the feelings I have given utterance +to—” What I was about to say, heaven knows—perhaps nothing +less than a downright proposal was coming; but at that critical moment a +gen-d’arme rode up to the side of our waggon, and surveyed us with the +peculiarly significant scowl his order is gifted with. After trotting alongside +for a few seconds he ordered the driver to halt, and, turning abruptly to us, +demanded our passports. Now our passports were, at that precise moment, +peaceably reposing in the side pocket of Mrs. Bingham’s carriage; I +therefore explained to the gen-d’arme how we were circumstanced, and +added, that on arriving at Amiens the passport should be produced. To this he +replied that all might be perfectly true, but he did not believe a word of +it—that he had received an order for the apprehension of two English +persons travelling that road—and that he should accordingly request our +company back to Chantraine, the commissionaire of which place was his officer. +</p> + +<p> +“But why not take us to Amiens,” said I; “particularly when I +tell you that we can then show our passports?” +</p> + +<p> +“I belong to the Chantraine district,” was the laconic answer; and +like the gentleman who could not weep at the sermon because he belonged to +another parish, this specimen of a French Dogberry would not hear reason except +in his own “commune.” +</p> + +<p> +No arguments which I could think of had any effect upon him, and amid a volley +of entreaty and imprecation, both equally vain, we saw ourselves turn back upon +the road to Amiens, and set out at a round trot to Chantraine, on the road to +Calais. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Isabella, I really pitied her; hitherto her courage had been principally +sustained by the prospect of soon reaching Amiens; now there was no seeing +where our adventure was to end. Besides that, actual fatigue from the wretched +conveyance began to distress her, and she was scarcely able to support herself, +though assisted by my arm. What a perilous position mine, whispering +consolation and comfort to a pretty girl on a lonely road, the only person near +being one who comprehended nothing of the language we spoke in. Ah, how little +do we know of fate, and how often do we despise circumstances that determine +all our fortunes in the world. To think that a gen-d’arme should have any +thing to do with my future lot in life, and that the real want of a passport to +travel should involve the probable want of a licence to marry. Yes, it is quite +in keeping, thought I, with every step I have taken through life. I may be +brought before the “maire” as a culprit, and leave him as a +Benedict. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the town, we were not permitted to drive to the inn, but at once +conveyed to the house of the “commissaire,” who was also the +“maire” of the district. The worthy functionary was long since in +bed, and it was only after ringing violently for half an hour that a head, +surmounted with a dirty cotton night-cap, peeped from an upper window, and +seemed to survey the assemblage beneath with patient attention. By this time a +considerable crowd had collected from the neighbouring ale-houses and cabarets, +who deemed it a most fitting occasion to honour us with the most infernal yells +and shouts, as indicating their love of justice, and delight in detecting +knavery; and that we were both involved in such suspicion, we had not long to +learn. Meanwhile the poor old maire, who had been an employe in the stormy days +of the revolution, and also under Napoleon, and who full concurred with Swift +that “a crowd is a mob, if composed even of bishops,” firmly +believed that the uproar beneath in the street was the announcement of a new +change of affairs at Paris, determined to be early in the field, and shouted +therefore with all his lungs—“vive le +peuple”—“Vive la charte”—“A bas les +autres.” A tremendous shout of laughter saluted this exhibition of +unexpected republicanism, and the poor maire retired from the window, having +learned his mistake, covered with shame and confusion. +</p> + +<p> +Before the mirth caused by this blunder had subsided, the door had opened, and +we were ushered into the bureau of the commissaire, accompanied by the anxious +crowd, all curious to know the particulars of our crime. +</p> + +<p> +The maire soon appeared, his night-cap being replaced by a small black velvet +skull-cap, and his lanky figure enveloped in a tarnished silk dressing-gown; he +permitted us to be seated, while the gen-d’arme recounted the suspicious +circumstances of our travelling, and produced the order to arrest an Englishman +and his wife who had arrived in one of the late Boulogne packets, and who had +carried off from some banking-house money and bills for a large amount. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no doubt these are the people,” said the gen-d’arme; +“and here is the ‘carte descriptive.’ Let us compare +it—‘Forty-two or forty-three years of age.’” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust, M. le Maire,” said I, overhearing this, “that +ladies do not recognize me as so much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of a pale and cadaverous aspect,” continued the gen-d’arme. +</p> + +<p> +Upon this the old functionary, wiping his spectacles with a snuffy +handkerchief, as if preparing them to examine an eclipse of the sun, regarded +me fixedly for several minutes, and said—“Oh, yes, I perceive it +plainly; continue the description.” +</p> + +<p> +“Five feet three inches,” said the gen-d’arme. +</p> + +<p> +“Six feet one in England, whatever this climate may have done +since.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speaks broken and bad French.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like a native,” said I; “at least so said my friends in the +chaussee D’Antin, in the year fifteen.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the catalogue ended, and a short conference between the maire and the +gen-d’arme ensued, which ended in our being committed for examination on +the morrow; meanwhile we were to remain at the inn, under the surveillance of +the gen-d’arme. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the inn my poor friend was so completely exhausted that she at once +retired to her room, and I proceeded to fulfil a promise I had made her to +despatch a note to Mrs. Bingham at Amiens by a special messenger, acquainting +her with all our mishaps, and requesting her to come or send to our assistance. +This done, and a good supper smoking before me, of which with difficulty I +persuaded Isabella to partake in her own room, I again regained my equanimity, +and felt once more at ease. +</p> + +<p> +The gen-d’arme in whose guardianship I had been left was a fine specimen +of his caste; a large and powerfully built man of about fifty, with an enormous +beard of grizzly brown and grey hair, meeting above and beneath his nether lip; +his eyebrows were heavy and beetling, and nearly concealed his sharp grey eyes, +while a deep sabre-wound had left upon his cheek a long white scar, giving a +most warlike and ferocious look to his features. +</p> + +<p> +As he sat apart from me for some time, silent and motionless, I could not help +imagining in how many a hard-fought day he had borne a part, for he evidently, +from his age and bearing, had been one of the soldiers of the empire. I invited +him to partake of my bottle of Medoc, by which he seemed flattered. When the +flask became low, and was replaced by another, he appeared to have lost much of +his constrained air, and seemed forgetting rapidly the suspicious circumstances +which he supposed attached to me—waxed wondrous confidential and +communicative, and condescended to impart some traits of a life which was not +without its vicissitudes, for he had been, as I suspected, one of the +“Guarde”—the old guarde—was wounded at Marengo, and +received the croix d’honneur in the field of Wagram, from the hands of +the Emperor himself. The headlong enthusiasm of attachment to Napoleon, which +his brief and stormy career elicited even from those who suffered long and +deeply in his behalf, is not one of the least singular circumstances which this +portion of history displays. While the rigours of the conscription had invaded +every family in France, from Normandie to La Vendee—while the untilled +fields, the ruined granaries, the half-deserted villages, all attested the +depopulation of the land, those talismanic words, “l’Empereur et la +gloire,” by some magic mechanism seemed all-sufficient not only to +repress regret and suffering, but even stimulate pride, and nourish valour; and +even yet, when it might be supposed that like the brilliant glass of a magic +lantern, the gaudy pageant had passed away, leaving only the darkness and +desolation behind it—the memory of those days under the empire survives +untarnished and unimpaired, and every sacrifice of friends or fortune is +accounted but little in the balance when the honour of La Belle France, and the +triumphs of the grand “armee,” are weighted against them. The +infatuated and enthusiastic followers of this great man would seem, in some +respects, to resemble the drunkard in the “Vaudeville,” who alleged +as his excuse for drinking, that whenever he was sober his poverty disgusted +him. “My cabin,” said he, “is a cell, my wife a mass of old +rags, my child a wretched object of misery and malady. But give me brandy; let +me only have that, and then my hut is a palace, my wife is a princess, and my +child the very picture of health and happiness;” so with these +people—intoxicated with the triumphs of their nation, “tete +monte” with victory—they cannot exist in the horror of sobriety +which peace necessarily enforces; and whenever the subject turns in +conversation upon the distresses of the time or the evil prospects of the +country, they call out, not like the drunkard, for brandy, but in the same +spirit they say—“Ah, if you would again see France flourishing and +happy, let us once more have our croix d’honneur, our epaulettes, our +voluntary contributions, our Murillos, our Velasquez, our spoils from Venice, +and our increased territories to rule over.” This is the language of the +Buonapartiste every where, and at all seasons; and the mass of the nation is +wonderfully disposed to participate in the sentiment. The empire was the Aeneid +of the nation, and Napoleon the only hero they now believe in. You may satisfy +yourself of this easily. Every cafe will give evidence of it, every society +bears its testimony to it, and even the most wretched Vaudeville, however, +trivial the interest—however meagre the story, and poor the diction, let +the emperor but have his “role”—let him be as laconic as +possible, carry his hands behind his back, wear the well-known low cocked-hat, +and the “redingote gris”—the success is certain—every +sentence he utters is applauded, and not a single allusion to the Pyramids, the +sun of Austerlitz, l’honneur, et al vieille garde, but is sure to bring +down thunders of acclamation. But I am forgetting myself, and perhaps my reader +too; the conversation of the old gen-d’arme accidentally led me into +reflections like these, and he was well calculated, in many ways, to call them +forth. His devoted attachment—his personal love of the emperor—of +which he gave me some touching instances, was admirably illustrated by an +incident, which I am inclined to tell, and hope it may amuse the reader as much +as it did myself on hearing it. +</p> + +<p> +When Napoleon had taken possession of the papal dominions, as he virtually did, +and carried off the pope, Pius VI, to Paris, this old soldier, then a musketeer +in the garde, formed part of the company that mounted guard over the holy +father. During the earlier months of the holy father’s confinement he was +at liberty to leave his apartments at any hour he pleased, and cross the +court-yard of the palace to the chapel where he performed mass. At such moments +the portion of the Imperial Guard then on duty stood under arms, and received +from the august hand of the pope his benediction as he passed. But one morning +a hasty express arrived from the Tuilleries, and the officer on duty +communicated his instructions to his party, that the apostolic vicar was not to +be permitted to pass, as heretofore, to the chapel, and that a most rigid +superintendence was to be exercised over his movements. My poor companion had +his turn for duty on that ill-starred day; he had not been long at his post +when the sound of footsteps was heard approaching, and he soon saw the +procession which always attended the holy father to his devotions, advancing +towards him; he immediately placed himself across the passage, and with his +musket in rest barred the exit, declaring, at the same time, that such were his +orders. In vain the priests who formed the cortege addressed themselves to his +heart, and spoke to his feelings, and at last finding little success by these +methods, explained to him the mortal sin and crime for which eternal damnation +itself might not be a too heavy retribution if he persisted in preventing his +holiness to pass, and thus be the means of opposing an obstacle to the head of +the whole Catholic church, for celebrating the mass; the soldier remained firm +and unmoved, the only answer he returned being, “that he had his orders, +and dared not disobey them.” The pope, however, persisted in his +resolution, and endeavoured to get by, when the hardy veteran retreated a step, +and placing his musket and bayonet at the charge, called out “au nom de +l’Empereur,” when the pious party at last yielded and slowly +retired within the palace. +</p> + +<p> +Not many days after, this severe restriction was recalled, and once more the +father was permitted to go to and from the chapel of the palace, at such times +as he pleased, and again, as before, in passing the corridor, the guards +presented arms and received the holy benediction, all except one; upon him the +head of the church frowned severely, and turned his back, while extending his +pious hands towards the others. “And yet,” said the poor fellow in +concluding his story, “and yet I could not have done otherwise; I had my +orders and must have followed them, and had the emperor commanded it, I should +have run my bayonet through the body of the holy father himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus, you see, my dear sir, how I have loved the emperor, for I have +many a day stood under fire for him in this world, ‘et il faut que +j’aille encore au feu pour lui apres ma mort.’.” +</p> + +<p> +He received in good part the consolations I offered him on this head, but I +plainly saw they did not, could not relieve his mind from the horrible +conviction he lay under, that his soul’s safety for ever had been +bartered for his attachment to the emperor. +</p> + +<p> +This story had brought us to the end of the third bottle of Medoc; and, as I +was neither the pope, nor had any very decided intentions of saying mass, he +offered no obstacle to my retiring for the night, and betaking myself to my +bed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch26" id="ch26"></a> CHAPTER XXVI.<br/> +THE INN AT CHANTRAINE.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus13"></a> +<a href="images/fig13.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig13.jpg" width="471" height="600" alt="Illustration: +Lorrequer as Postillion" /></a> +<p class="caption">Lorrequer as Postillion</p> +</div> + +<p> +When contrasted with the comforts of an English bed-room in a good hotel, how +miserably short does the appearance of a French one fall in the estimation of +the tired traveller. In exchange for the carpeted floor, the well-curtained +windows, the richly tapestried bed, the well cushioned arm-chair, and the +innumerable other luxuries which await him; he has nought but a narrow, +uncurtained bed, a bare floor, occasionally a flagged one, three hard +cane-bottomed chairs, and a looking-glass which may convey an idea of how you +would look under the combined influence of the cholera, and a stroke of +apoplexy, one half of your face being twice the length of the other, and the +entire of it of a bluish-green tint—pretty enough in one of +Turner’s landscapes, but not at all becoming when applied to the +“human face divine.” Let no late arrival from the continent +contradict me here by his late experiences, which a stray twenty pounds and the +railroads—(confound them for the same)—have enabled him to acquire. +I speak of matters before it occurred to all Charing-Cross and Cheapside to +“take the water” between Dover and Calais, and inundate the world +with the wit of the Cider Cellar, and the Hole in the Wall. No! In the days I +write of, the travelled were of another genus, and you might dine at +Very’s or have your loge at “Les Italiens,” without being +dunned by your tailor at the one, or confronted with your washer-woman at the +other. Perhaps I have written all this in the spite and malice of a man who +feels that his louis-d’or only goes half as far now as heretofore; and +attributes all his diminished enjoyments and restricted luxuries to the +unceasing current of his countrymen, whom fate, and the law of imprisonment for +debt, impel hither. Whether I am so far guilty or not, is not now the question; +suffice it to say, that Harry Lorrequer, for reasons best known to himself, +lives abroad, where he will be most happy to see any of his old and former +friends who take his quarters en route; and in the words of a bellicose brother +of the pen, but in a far different spirit, he would add, “that any person +who feels himself here alluded to, may learn the author’s address at his +publishers.” “Now let us go back to our muttons,” as Barney +Coyle used to say in the Dublin Library formerly—for Barney was fond of +French allusions, which occasionally too he gave in their own tongue, as once +describing an interview with Lord Cloncurry, in which he broke off suddenly the +conference, adding, “I told him I never could consent to such a +proposition, and putting my chateau (chapeau) on my head, I left the house at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly three o’clock in the morning, as accompanied by the waiter, +who, like others of his tribe, had become a kind of somnambulist ex-officio, I +wended my way up one flight of stairs, and down another, along a narrow +corridor, down two steps, through an antechamber, and into another corridor, to +No. 82, my habitation for the night. Why I should have been so far conducted +from the habitable portion of the house I had spent my evening in, I leave the +learned in such matters to explain; as for me, I have ever remarked it, while +asking for a chamber in a large roomy hotel, the singular pride with which you +are ushered up grand stair-cases, down passages, through corridors, and up +narrow back flights, till the blue sky is seen through the sky-light, to No. +199, “the only spare bed-room in the house,” while the silence and +desolation of the whole establishment would seem to imply far +otherwise—the only evidence of occupation being a pair of dirty +Wellingtons at the door of No. 2. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we have arrived at last,” said I, drawing a deep sigh, as I +threw myself upon a ricketty chair, and surveyed rapidly my meagre-looking +apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, this is Monsieur’s chamber,” said the waiter, with a +very peculiar look, half servile, half droll. “Madame se couche, No. +28.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, good night,” said I, closing the door hastily, and not +liking the farther scrutiny of the fellow’s eye, as he fastened it on me, +as if to search what precise degree of relationship existed between myself and +my fair friend, whom he had called “Madame” purposely to elicit an +observation from me. “Ten to one though,” said I, as I undressed +myself, “but they think she is my wife—how good—but +again—ay, it is very possible, considering we are in France. Numero +vingt-huit, quite far enough from this part of the house I should suppose from +my number,—that old gen-d’arme was a fine fellow—what strong +attachment to Napoleon; and the story of the pope; I hope I may remember that. +Isabella, poor girl—this adventure must really distress her—hope +she is not crying over it—what a devil of a hard bed—and it is not +five feet long too—and, bless my soul, is this all by way of covering; +why I shall be perished here. Oh! I must certainly put all my clothes over me +in addition, unfortunately there is no hearth-rug—well, there is no help +for it now—so let me try to sleep—numero vingt-huit.” +</p> + +<p> +How long I remained in a kind of uneasy, fitful slumber, I cannot tell; but I +awoke shivering with cold—puzzled to tell where I was, and my brain +addled with the broken fragments of half a dozen dreams, all mingling and +mixing themselves with the unpleasant realities of my situation. What an +infernal contrivance for a bed, thought I, as my head came thump against the +top, while my legs projected far beyond the foot-rail; the miserable portion of +clothing over me at the same time being only sufficient to temper the night +air, which in autumn is occasionally severe and cutting. This will never do. I +must ring the bell and rouse the house, if only to get a fire, if they +don’t possess such a thing as blankets. I immediately rose, and groping +my way along the wall endeavoured to discover the bell, but in vain; and for +the same satisfactory reason that Von Troil did not devote one chapter of his +work on “Iceland” to “snakes,” because there were none +such there. What was now to be done? About the geography of my present abode I +knew, perhaps, as much as the public at large know about the Coppermine river +and Behring’s straits. The world, it was true, was before me, +“where top choose,” admirable things for an epic, but decidedly an +unfortunate circumstance for a very cold gentleman in search of a blanket. Thus +thinking, I opened the door of my chamber, and not in any way resolved how I +should proceed, I stepped forth into the long corridor, which was dark as +midnight itself. +</p> + +<p> +Tracing my path along the wall, I soon reached a door which I in vain attempted +to open; in another moment I found another and another, each of which were +locked. Thus along the entire corridor I felt my way, making every effort to +discover where any of the people of the house might have concealed themselves, +but without success. What was to be done now? It was of no use to go back to my +late abode, and find it comfortless as I left it; so I resolved to proceed in +my search; by this time I had arrived at the top of a small flight of stairs, +which I remembered having come up, and which led to another long passage +similar to the one I had explored, but running in a transverse direction, down +this I now crept, and reached the landing, along the wall of which I was guided +by my hand, as well for safety as to discover the architrave of some friendly +door, where the inhabitant might be sufficiently Samaritan to lend some portion +of his bed-clothes; door after door followed in succession along this +confounded passage, which I began to think as long as the gallery of the lower +one; at last, however, just as my heart was sinking within me from +disappointment, the handle of a lock turned, and I found myself inside a +chamber. How was I now to proceed? for if this apartment did not contain any of +the people of the hotel, I had but a sorry excuse for disturbing the repose of +any traveller who might have been more fortunate than myself in the article of +blankets. To go back however, would be absurd, having already taken so much +trouble to find out a room that was inhabited—for that such was the case, +a short, thick snore assured me—so that my resolve was at once made, to +waken the sleeper, and endeavour to interest him in my destitute situation. I +accordingly approached the place where the nasal sounds seemed to issue from, +and soon reached the post of a bed. I waited for an instant, and then began, +</p> + +<p> +“Monsier, voulez vous bien me permettre—” +</p> + +<p> +“As to short whist, I never could make it out, so there is an end of +it,” said my unknown friend, in a low, husky voice, which, strangely +enough, was not totally unfamiliar to me: but when or how I had heard it before +I could not then think. +</p> + +<p> +Well, thought I, he is an Englishman at all events, so I hope his patriotism +may forgive my intrusion, so here goes once more to rouse him, though he seems +a confoundedly heavy sleeper. “I beg your pardon, sir, but unfortunately +in a point like the present, perhaps—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do you mark the points, and I’ll score the rubber,” +said he. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil take the gambling fellow’s dreaming,” thought I, +raising my voice at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps a cold night, sir, may suffice as my apology.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cold, oh, ay! put a hot poker to it,” muttered he; “a hot +poker, a little sugar, and a spice of nutmeg—nothing else—then +it’s delicious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my soul, this is too bad,” said I to myself. “Let us +see what shaking will do. Sir, sir, I shall feel obliged by—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well there, don’t shake me, and I’ll tell you where I hid +the cigars—they are under my straw hat in the window.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, really,” thought I, “if this gentleman’s +confessions were of an interesting nature, this might be good fun; but as the +night is cold, I must shorten the ‘seance,’ so here goes for one +effort more. +</p> + +<p> +“If, sir, you could kindly spare me even a small portion of your +bed-clothes.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you, no more wine; but I’ll sing with pleasure;” +and here the wretch, in something like the voice of a frog with the quinsy, +began, “‘I’d mourn the hopes that leave me.’” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall mourn something else for the same reason,” said I, as +losing all patience, I seized quilts and blankets by the corner, and with one +vigourous pull wrenched them from the bed, and darted from the room—in a +second I was in the corridor, trailing my spoil behind—which in my haste +I had not time to collect in a bundle. I flew rather than ran along the +passage, reached the stairs, and in another minute had reached the second +gallery, but not before I heard the slam of a door behind me, and the same +instant the footsteps of a person running along the corridor, who could be no +other than my pursuer, effectually aroused by my last appeal to his charity. I +darted along the dark and narrow passage; but soon to my horror discovered that +I must have passed the door of my chamber, for I had reached the foot of a +narrow back stair, which led to the grenier and the servants’ rooms, +beneath the roof. To turn now would only have led me plump in the face of my +injured countryman, of whose thew and sinew I was perfectly ignorant, and did +not much like to venture upon. There was little time for reflection, for he had +now reached the top of the stair, and was evidently listening for some clue to +guide him on; stealthily and silently, and scarcely drawing breath, I mounted +the narrow stairs step by step, but before I had arrived at the landing, he +heard the rustle of the bed-clothes, and again gave chace. There was something +in the unrelenting ardour of his pursuit, which suggested to my mind the idea +of a most uncompromising foe; and as fear added speed to my steps, I dashed +along beneath the low-roofed passage, wondering what chance of escape might yet +present itself. Just at this instant, the hand by which I had guided myself +along the wall, touched the handle of a door—I turned it—it +opened—I drew in my precious bundle, and closing the door noiselessly, +sat down, breathless and still, upon the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely was this, the work of a second, accomplished, when the heavy tread of +my pursuer resounded on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my conscience it’s strange if I haven’t you now, my +friend,” said he: “you’re in a cul de sac here, as they say, +if I know any thing of the house; and faith I’ll make a salad of you, +when I get you, that’s all. Devil a dirtier trick ever I heard tell +of.” +</p> + +<p> +Need I say that these words had the true smack of an Irish accent, which +circumstance, from whatever cause, did not by any means tend to assuage my +fears in the event of discovery. +</p> + +<p> +However, from such a misfortune my good genius now delivered me; for after +traversing the passage to the end, he at last discovered another, which led by +a long flight to the second story, down which he proceeded, venting at every +step his determination for vengeance, and his resolution not to desist from the +pursuit, if it took the entire night for it. +</p> + +<p> +“Well now,” thought I, “as he will scarcely venture up here +again, and as I may, by leaving this, be only incurring the risk of +encountering him, my best plan is to stay where I am if it be possible.” +With this intent I proceeded to explore the apartment, which from its perfect +stillness, I concluded to be unoccupied. After some few minutes groping I +reached a low bed, fortunately empty, and although the touch of the bed-clothes +led to no very favourable augury of its neatness or elegance, there was little +choice at this moment, so I rolled myself up in my recent booty, and resolved +to wait patiently for day-break to regain my apartment. +</p> + +<p> +As always happens in such circumstances, sleep came on me unawares—so at +least every one’s experience I am sure can testify, that if you are +forced to awake early to start by some morning coach, and that unfortunately +you have not got to bed till late at night, the chances are ten to one, that +you get no sleep whatever, simply because you are desirous for it; but make up +your mind ever so resolutely, that you’ll not sleep, and whether your +determination be built on motives of propriety, duty, convenience, or health, +and the chances are just as strong that you are sound and snoring before ten +minutes. +</p> + +<p> +How many a man has found it impossible, with every effort of his heart and +brain aiding his good wishes, to sit with unclosed eyes and ears through a dull +sermon in the dog-days; how many an expectant, longing heir has yielded to the +drowsy influence when endeavouring to look contrite under the severe correction +of a lecture on extravagance from his uncle. Who has not felt the irresistible +tendency to “drop off” in the half hour before dinner at a stupid +country-house? I need not catalogue the thousand other situations in life +infinitely more “sleep-compelling” than Morphine; for myself, my +pleasantest and soundest moments of perfect forgetfulness of this dreary world +and all its cares, have been taken in an oaken bench, seated bolt upright and +vis a vis to a lecturer on botany, whose calming accents, united with the +softened light of an autumnal day, piercing its difficult rays through the +narrow and cobwebbed windows, the odour of the recent plants and flowers aiding +and abetting, all combined to steep the soul in sleep, and you sank by +imperceptible and gradual steps into that state of easy slumber, in which +“come no dreams,” and the last sounds of the lecturer’s +“hypogenous and perigenous” died away, becoming beautifully less, +till your senses sank into rest, the syllables “rigging us, rigging +us,” seemed to melt away in the distance and fade from your +memory—Peace be with you, Doctor A. If I owe gratitude any where I have +my debt with you. The very memory I bear of you has saved me no inconsiderable +sum in hop and henbane. Without any assistance from the sciences on the present +occasion, I was soon asleep, and woke not till the cracking of whips, and +trampling of horses’ feet on the pavement of the coach-yard apprised me +that the world had risen to its daily labour, and so should I. From the short +survey of my present chamber which I took on waking, I conjectured it must have +been the den of some of the servants of the house upon occasion—two low +truckle-beds of the meanest description lay along the wall opposite to mine; +one of them appeared to have been slept in during the past night, but by what +species of animal the Fates alone can tell. An old demi-peak saddle, capped and +tipped with brass, some rusty bits, and stray stirrup-irons lay here and there +upon the floor; while upon a species of clothes-rack, attached to a rafter, +hung a tarnished suit of postillion’s livery, cap, jacket, leathers, and +jack-boots, all ready for use; and evidently from their arrangement supposed by +the owner to be a rather creditable “turn out.” +</p> + +<p> +I turned over these singular habiliments with much of the curiosity with which +an antiquary would survey a suit of chain armour; the long epaulettes of yellow +cotton cord, the heavy belt with its brass buckle, the cumbrous boots, plaited +and bound with iron like churns were in rather a ludicrous contrast to the +equipment of our light and jockey-like boys in nankeen jackets and neat tops, +that spin along over our level “macadam.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” thought I, “it is full time I should get back to No. +82, and make my appearance below stairs;” though in what part of the +building my room lay, and how I was to reach it without my clothes, I had not +the slightest idea. A blanket is an excessively comfortable article of wearing +apparel when in bed, but as a walking costume is by no means convenient or +appropriate; while to making a sorti en sauvage, however appropriate during the +night, there were many serious objections if done “en plein jour,” +and with the whole establishment awake and active; the noise of mopping, +scrubbing, and polishing, which is eternally going forward in a foreign inn +amply testified there was nothing which I could adopt in my present naked and +forlorn condition, save the bizarre and ridiculous dress of the postillion, and +I need not say the thought of so doing presented nothing agreeable. I looked +from the narrow window out upon the tiled roof, but without any prospect of +being heard if I called ever so loudly. +</p> + +<p> +The infernal noise of floor-cleansing, assisted by a Norman peasant’s +“chanson du pays,” the time being well marked by her heavy sabots, +gave even less chance to me within; so that after more than half an hour passed +in weighing difficulties, and canvassing plans, upon donning the blue and +yellow, and setting out for my own room without delay, hoping sincerely, that +with proper precaution, I should be able to reach it unseen and unobserved. +</p> + +<p> +As I laid but little stress upon the figure I should make in my new +habiliments, it did not cause me much mortification to find that the clothes +were considerably too small, the jacket scarcely coming beneath my arms, and +the sleeves being so short that my hands and wrists projected beyond the cuffs +like two enormous claws; the leathers were also limited in their length, and +when drawn up to a proper height, permitted my knees to be seen beneath, like +the short costume of a Spanish Tauridor, but scarcely as graceful; not wishing +to encumber myself in the heavy and noisy masses of wood, iron, and leather, +they call “les bottes forts,” I slipped my feet into my slippers, +and stole gently from the room. How I must have looked at the moment I leave my +reader to guess, as with anxious and stealthy pace I crept along the low +gallery that led to the narrow staircase, down which I proceeded, step by step; +but just as I reached the bottom, perceived a little distance from me, with her +back turned towards me, a short, squat peasant on her knees, belabouring with a +brush the well waxed floor; to pass therefore, unobserved was impossible, so +that I did not hesitate to address her, and endeavour to interest her in my +behalf, and enlist her as my guide. +</p> + +<p> +“Bon jour, ma chere,” said I in a soft insinuating tone; she did +not hear me, so I repeated, +</p> + +<p> +“Bon jour, ma chere, bon jour.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon this she turned round, and looking fixedly at me for a second, called out +in a thick pathos, “Ah, le bon Dieu! qu’il est drole comme ca, +Francois, savez vous, mais ce n’est pas Francois;” saying which, +she sprang from her kneeling position to her feet, and with a speed that her +shape and sabots seemed little to promise, rushed down the stairs as if she had +seen the devil himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what is the matter with the woman?” said I, “surely if +I am not Francois—which God be thanked is true—yet I cannot look so +frightful as all this would imply.” I had not much time given me for +consideration now, for before I had well deciphered the number over a door +before me, the loud noise of several voices on the floor beneath attracted my +attention, and the moment after the heavy tramp of feet followed, and in an +instant the gallery was thronged by the men and women of the +house—waiters, hostlers, cooks, scullions, filles de chambre, mingled +with gens-d’armes, peasants, and town’s people, all eagerly forcing +their way up stairs; yet all on arriving at the landing-place, seemed disposed +to keep at a respectful distance, and bundling themselves at one end of the +corridor, while I, feelingly alive to the ridiculous appearance I made, +occupied the other—the gravity with which they seemed at first disposed +to regard me soon gave way, and peal after peal of laughter broke out, and +young and old, men and women, even to the most farouche gens-d’armes, all +appearing incapable of controlling the desire for merriment my most singular +figure inspired; and unfortunately this emotion seemed to promise no very +speedy conclusion; for the jokes and witticisms made upon my appearance +threatened to renew the festivities, ad libitum. +</p> + +<p> +“Regardez donc ses epaules,” said one. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, mon Dieu! Il me fait l’idee d’une grenouille aves ses +jambes jaunes,” cried another. +</p> + +<p> +“Il vaut son pesant de fromage pour une Vaudeville,” said the +director of the strolling theatre of the place. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll give seventy francs a week, +‘d’appointment,’ and ‘Scribe’ shall write a piece +express for himself, if he’ll take it.” +</p> + +<p> +“May the devil fly away with your grinning baboon faces,” said I, +as I rushed up the stairs again, pursued by the mob at full cry; scarcely, +however, had I reached the top step, when the rough hand of the +gen-d’arme seized me by the shoulder, while he said in a low, husky +voice, “c’est inutile, Monsieur, you cannot escape—the thing +was well contrived, it is true; but the gens-d’armes of France are not +easily outwitted, and you could not have long avoided detection, even in that +dress.” It was my turn to laugh now, which, to their very great +amazement, I did, loud and long; that I should have thought my present costume +could ever have been the means of screening me from observation, however it +might have been calculated to attract it, was rather too absurd a supposition +even for the mayor of a village to entertain; besides, it only now occurred to +me that I was figuring in the character of a prisoner. The continued peals of +laughing which this mistake on their part elicited from me seemed to afford but +slight pleasure to my captor, who gruffly said— +</p> + +<p> +“When you have done amusing yourself, mon ami, perhaps you will do us the +favour to come before the mayor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” I replied; “but you will first permit me to +resume my own clothes, I am quite sick of masquerading ‘en +postillion.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so fast, my friend,” said the suspicious old follower of +Fouche—“not so fast; it is but right the maire should see you in +the disguise you attempted your escape in. It must be especially mentioned in +the proces verbal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this is becoming too ludicrous,” said I. “It need not +take five minutes to satisfy you why, how, and where, I put on these confounded +rags—” +</p> + +<p> +“Then tell it to the maire, at the Bureau.” +</p> + +<p> +“But for that purpose it is not necessary I should be conducted through +the streets in broad day, to be laughed at. No, positively, I’ll not go. +In my own dress I’ll accompany you with pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Victor, Henri, Guillame,” said the gen-d’arme, addressing +his companions, who immediately closed round me. “You see,” added +he, “there is no use in resisting.” +</p> + +<p> +Need I recount my own shame and ineffable disgrace? Alas! it is too, too true. +Harry Lorrequer—whom Stultze entreated to wear his coats, the ornament of +Hyde Park, the last appeal in dress, fashion, and equipage—was obliged to +parade through the mob of a market-town in France, with four gens-d’armes +for his companions, and he himself habited in a mongrel character—half +postillion, half Delaware Indian. The incessant yells of laughter—the +screams of the children, and the outpouring of every species of sarcasm and +ridicule, at my expense, were not all—for, as I emerged from the +porte-chochere I saw Isabella in the window: her eyes were red with weeping; +but no sooner had she beheld me, than she broke out into a fit of laughter that +was audible even in the street. +</p> + +<p> +Rage had now taken such a hold upon me, that I forgot my ridiculous appearance +in my thirst for vengeance. I marched on through the grinning crowd, with the +step of a martyr. I suppose my heroic bearing and warlike deportment must have +heightened the drollery of the scene; for the devils only laughed the more. The +bureau of the maire could not contain one-tenth of the anxious and curious +individuals who thronged the entrance, and for about twenty minutes the whole +efforts of the gens-d’armes were little enough to keep order and maintain +silence. At length the maire made his appearance, and accustomed as he had been +for a long life to scenes of an absurd and extraordinary nature, yet the +ridicule of my look and costume was too much, and he laughed outright. This was +of course the signal for renewed mirth for the crowd, while those without +doors, infected by the example, took up the jest, and I had the pleasure of a +short calculation, a la Babbage, of how many maxillary jaws were at that same +moment wagging at my expense. +</p> + +<p> +However, the examination commenced; and I at length obtained an opportunity of +explaining under what circumstances I had left my room, and how and why I had +been induced to don this confounded cause of all my misery. +</p> + +<p> +“This may be very true,” said the mayor, “as it is very +plausible; if you have evidence to prove what you have stated—” +</p> + +<p> +“If it’s evidence only is wanting, Mr. Maire, I’ll confirm +one part of the story,” said a voice in the crowd, in an accent and tone +that assured me the speaker was the injured proprietor of the stolen blankets. +I turned round hastily to look at my victim, and what was my surprise to +recognize a very old Dublin acquaintance, Mr. Fitzmaurice O’Leary. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Mr. Lorrequer,” said he; “this is mighty like +our ould practices in College-green; but upon my conscience the maire has the +advantage of Gabbet. It’s lucky for you I know his worship, as we’d +call him at home, or this might be a serious business. Nothing would persuade +them that you were not Lucien Buonaparte, or the iron mask, or something of +that sort, if they took it into their heads.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. O’Leary was as good as his word. In a species of French, that +I’d venture to say would be perfectly intelligible in Mullingar, he +contrived to explain to the maire that I was neither a runaway nor a swindler, +but a very old friend of his, and consequently sans reproche. The official was +now as profuse of his civilities as he had before been of his suspicions, and +most hospitably pressed us to stay for breakfast. This, for many reasons, I was +obliged to decline—not the least of which was, my impatience to get out +of my present costume. We accordingly procured a carriage, and I returned to +the hotel, screened from the gaze but still accompanied by the shouts of the +mob, who evidently took a most lively interest in the entire proceeding. +</p> + +<p> +I lost no time in changing my costume, and was about to descend to the saloon, +when the master of the house came to inform me that Mrs. Bingham’s +courier had arrived with the carriage, and that she expected us at Amiens as +soon as possible. +</p> + +<p> +“That is all right. Now, Mr. O’Leary, I must pray you to forgive +all the liberty I have taken with you, and also permit me to defer the +explanation of many circumstances which seem at present strange, +till—” +</p> + +<p> +“Till sine die, if the story be a long one, my dear +sir—there’s nothing I hate so much, except cold punch.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are going to Paris,” said I; “is it not so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’m thinking of it. I was up at Trolhatten, in Norway, three +weeks ago, and I was obliged to leave it hastily, for I’ve an appointment +with a friend in Geneva.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then how do you travel?” +</p> + +<p> +“On foot, just as you see, except that I’ve a tobacco bag up +stairs, and an umbrella.” +</p> + +<p> +“Light equipment, certainly; but you must allow me to give you a set down +as far as Amiens, and also to present you to my friends there.” +</p> + +<p> +To this Mr. O’Leary made no objection; and as Miss Bingham could not bear +any delay, in her anxiety to join her mother, we set out at once—the only +thing to mar my full enjoyment at the moment being the sight of the identical +vestments I had so lately figured in, bobbing up and down before my eyes for +the whole length of the stage, and leading to innumerable mischievous allusions +from my friend Mr. O’Leary, which were far too much relished by my fair +companion. +</p> + +<p> +At twelve we arrived at Amiens, when I presented my friend Mr. O’Leary to +Mrs. Bingham. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch27" id="ch27"></a> CHAPTER XXVII.<br/> +MR. O’LEARY.</h2> + +<p> +At the conclusion of my last chapter I was about to introduce to my +reader’s acquaintance my friend Mr. O’Leary; and, as he is destined +to occupy some place in the history of these Confessions, I may, perhaps, be +permitted to do so at more length than his intrinsic merit at first sight might +appear to warrant. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. O’Leary was, and I am induced to believe is, a particularly short, +fat, greasy-looking gentleman, with a head as free from phrenological +development as a billiard-ball, and a countenance which, in feature and colour, +nearly resembled the face of a cherub, carved in oak, as we see them in old +pulpits. +</p> + +<p> +Short as is his stature, his limbs compose the least part of it. His hands and +feet, forming some compensation by their ample proportions, with short, thick +fins, vulgarly called a cobbler’s thumb. His voice varying in cadence +from a deep barytone, to a high falsetto, maintains throughout the distinctive +characteristic of a Dublin accent and pronunciation, and he talks of the +“Veel of Ovoca, and a beef-steek,” with some price of intonation. +What part of the Island he came originally from, or what may be his age, are +questions I have the most profound ignorance of; I have heard many anecdotes +which would imply his being what the French call “d’un age +mur”—but his own observations are generally limited to events +occurring since the peace of “fifteen.” To his personal +attractions, such as they are, he has never been solicitous of contributing by +the meretricious aids of dress. His coat, calculating from its length of waist, +and ample skirt, would fit Bumbo Green, while his trowsers, being made of some +cheap and shrinking material, have gradually contracted their limits, and look +now exactly like knee-breeches, without the usual buttons at the bottom. +</p> + +<p> +These, with the addition of a pair of green spectacles, the glass of one being +absent, and permitting the look-out of a sharp, grey eye, twinkling with +drollery and good humour, form the most palpable of his externals. In point of +character, they who best knew him represented him as the best-tempered, +best-hearted fellow breathing; ever ready to assist a friend, and always +postponing his own plans and his own views, when he had any, to the wishes and +intentions of others. Among the many odd things about him, was a constant +preference to travelling on foot, and a great passion for living abroad, both +of which tastes he gratified, although his size might seem to offer obstacles +to the one, and his total ignorance of every continental language, would appear +to preclude the other; with a great liking for tobacco, which he smoked all +day—a fondness for whist and malt liquors—his antipathies were few; +so that except when called upon to shave more than once in the week, or wash +his hands twice on the same day, it was difficult to disconcert him. His +fortune was very ample; but although his mode of living was neither very +ostentatious nor costly, he contrived always to spend his income. Such was the +gentleman I now presented to my friends, who, I must confess, appeared +strangely puzzled by his manner and appearance. This feeling, however, soon +wore off; and before he had spent the morning in their company, he had made +more way in their good graces, and gone farther to establish intimacy, than +many a more accomplished person, with an unexceptionable coat and accurate +whisker might have effected in a fortnight. What were his gifts in this way, I +am, alas, most deplorably ignorant of; it was not, heaven knows, that he +possessed any conversational talent—of successful flattery he knew as +much as a negro does of the national debt—and yet the +“bon-hommie” of his character seemed to tell at once; and I never +knew him fail in any one instance to establish an interest for himself before +he had completed the ordinary period of a visit. +</p> + +<p> +I think it is Washington Irving who has so admirably depicted the mortification +of a dandy angler, who, with his beaver garnished with brown hackles, his +well-posed rod, polished gaff, and handsome landing-net, with every thing +befitting, spends his long summer day whipping a trout stream without a rise or +even a ripple to reward him, while a ragged urchin, with a willow wand, and a +bent pin, not ten yards distant, is covering the greensward with myriads of +speckled and scaly backs, from one pound weight to four; so it is in every +thing—“the race is not to the swift;” the elements of success +in life, whatever be the object of pursuit, are very, very different from what +we think them at first sight, and so it was with Mr. O’Leary, and I have +more than once witnessed the triumph of his homely manner and blunt humour over +the more polished and well-bred taste of his competitors for favour; and what +might have been the limit to such success, heaven alone can tell, if it were +not that he laboured under a counter-balancing infirmity, sufficient to have +swamped a line-of-battle ship itself. It was simply this—a most +unfortunate propensity to talk of the wrong place, person, or time, in any +society he found himself; and this taste for the mal apropos, extended so far, +that no one ever ventured into company with him as his friend, without +trembling for the result; but even this, I believe his only fault, resulted +from the natural goodness of his character and intentions; for, believing as he +did, in his honest simplicity, that the arbitrary distinctions of class and +rank were held as cheaply by others as himself, he felt small scruple at +recounting to a duchess a scene in a cabaret, and with as little hesitation +would he, if asked, have sung the “Cruiskeen lawn,” or the +“Jug of Punch,” after Lablanche had finished the “Al +Idea,” from Figaro. ‘Mauvaise honte,’ he had none; indeed I +am not sure that he had any kind of shame whatever, except possibly when +detected with a coat that bore any appearance of newness, or if overpersuaded +to wear gloves, which he ever considered as a special effeminacy. +</p> + +<p> +Such, in a few words, was the gentleman I now presented to my friends, and how +far he insinuated himself into their good graces, let the fact tell, that on my +return to the breakfast-room, after about an hour’s absence, I heard him +detailing the particulars of a route they were to take by his advice, and also +learned that he had been offered and had accepted a seat in their carriage to +Paris. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll do myself the pleasure of joining your party, Mrs. +Bingham,” said he. “Bingham, I think, madam, is your name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Any relation, may I ask, of a most dear friend of mine, of the same +name, from Currynaslattery, in the county Wexford?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am really not aware,” said Mrs. Bingham. “My +husband’s family are, I believe, many of them from that county.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, what a pleasant fellow was Tom!” said Mr. O’Leary +musingly, and with that peculiar tone which made me tremble, for I knew well +that a reminiscence was coming. “A pleasant fellow indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he alive, sir, now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe so, ma’am; but I hear the climate does not agree with +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, then, he’s abroad! In Italy probably?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, ma’am, in Botany Bay. His brother, they say, might have saved +him, but he left poor Tom to his fate, for he was just then paying court to a +Miss Crow, I think, with a large fortune. Oh, Lord, what have I said, +it’s always the luck of me!” The latter exclamation was the result +of a heavy saugh upon the floor, Mrs. Bingham having fallen in a +faint—she being the identical lady alluded to, and her husband the +brother of pleasant Tom Bingham. +</p> + +<p> +To hurl Mr. O’Leary out of the room by one hand, and ring the bell with +the other, was the work of a moment; and with proper care, and in due time, +Mrs. Bingham was brought to herself, when most fortunately, she entirely forgot +the cause of her sudden indisposition; and, of course, neither her daughter nor +myself suffered any clue to escape us which might lead to its discovery. +</p> + +<p> +When we were once more upon the road, to efface if it might be necessary any +unpleasant recurrence to the late scene, I proceeded to give Mrs. Bingham an +account of my adventure at Chantraine, in which, of course, I endeavoured to +render my friend O’Leary all the honours of being laughed at in +preference to myself, laying little stress upon my masquerading in the +jack-boots. +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite right,” said O’Leary, joining in the hearty +laugh against him, “quite right, I was always a very heavy +sleeper—indeed if I wasn’t I wouldn’t be here now, travelling +about en garcon, free as air;” here he heaved a sigh, which from its +incongruity with his jovial look and happy expression, threw us all into +renewed laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“But why, Mr. O’Leary—what can your sleepiness have to do +with such tender recollections, for such, I am sure, that sigh bespeaks +them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! ma’am, it may seem strange, but it is nevertheless true, if it +were not for that unfortunate tendency, I should now be the happy possessor of +a most accomplished and amiable lady, and eight hundred per annum three and a +half per cent. stock.” +</p> + +<p> +“You overslept yourself on the wedding-day, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall hear, ma’am, the story is a very short one: It is now +about eight years ago, I was rambling through the south of France, and had just +reached Lyons, where the confounded pavement, that sticks up like pears, with +the point upwards, had compelled me to rest some days and recruit; for this +purpose I installed myself in the pension of Madame Gourgead, Rue de Petits +Carmes, a quiet house—where we dined at twelve, ten in number, upon about +two pounds of stewed beef, with garlic and carrots—a light soup, being +the water which accompanied the same to render it tender in stewing—some +preserved cherries, and an omelette, with a pint bottle of Beaune, 6me qualite, +I believe—a species of pyroligneous wine made from the vine stalks, but +pleasant in summer with your salad; then we played dominos in the evening, or +whist for sous points, leading altogether a very quiet and virtuous existence, +or as Madame herself expressed it, ‘une vie tout-a-fait +patriarchale;’ of this I cannot myself affirm how far she was right in +supposing the patriarchs did exactly like us. But to proceed, in the same +establishment there lived a widow whose late husband had been a wine merchant +at Dijon—he had also, I suppose from residing in that country, been +imitating the patriarchs, for he died one day. Well, the lady was delayed at +Lyons for some law business, and thus it came about, that her husband’s +testament and the sharp paving stones in the streets determined we should be +acquainted. I cannot express to you the delight of my fair countrywoman at +finding that a person who spoke English had arrived at the +‘pension’—a feeling I myself somewhat participated in; for to +say truth, I was not at that time a very great proficient in French. We soon +became intimate, in less time probably than it could otherwise have happened, +for from the ignorance of all the others of one word of English, I was enabled +during dinner to say many soft and tender things, which one does not usually +venture on in company. +</p> + +<p> +“I recounted my travels, and told various adventures of my wanderings, +till at last, from being merely amused, I found that my fair friend began to be +interested in my narratives; and frequently when passing the bouillon to her, I +have seen a tear in the corner of her eye: in a word, ‘she loved me for +the dangers I had passed,’ as Othello says. Well, laugh away if you like, +but it’s truth I am telling you.” At this part of Mr. +O’Leary’s story we all found it impossible to withstand the +ludicrous mock heroic of his face and tone, and laughed loud and long. When we +at length became silent he resumed—“Before three weeks had passed +over, I had proposed and was accepted, just your own way, Mr. Lorrequer, taking +the ball at the hop, the very same way you did at Cheltenham, the time the lady +jilted you, and ran off with your friend Mr. Waller; I read it all in the news, +though I was then in Norway fishing.” Here there was another interruption +by a laugh, not, however, at Mr. O’Leary’s expense. I gave him a +most menacing look, while he continued—“the settlements were soon +drawn up, and consisted, like all great diplomatic documents, of a series of +‘gains and compensations;’ thus, she was not to taste any thing +stronger than kirsch wasser, or Nantz brandy; and I limited myself to a pound +of short-cut weekly, and so on: but to proceed, the lady being a good Catholic, +insisted upon being married by a priest of her own persuasion, before the +performance of the ceremony at the British embassy in Paris; to this I could +offer no objection, and we were accordingly united in the holy bonds the same +morning, after signing the law papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Mr. O’Leary, you are really a married man.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the very point I’m coming to, ma’am; for +I’ve consulted all the jurists upon the subject, and they never can +agree. But you shall hear. I despatched a polite note to Bishop Luscombe, and +made every arrangement for the approaching ceremony, took a quartier in the Rue +Helder, near the Estaminet, and looked forward with anxiety for the day which +was to make my happy; for our marriage in Lyons was only a kind of betrothal. +Now, my fair friend had but one difficulty remaining, poor dear soul—I +refrain from mentioning her name for delicacy sake; but poor dear Mrs. Ram +could not bear the notion of our going up to Paris in the same conveyance, for +long as she had lived abroad, she had avoided every thing French, even the +language, so she proposed that I should go in the early +‘Diligence,’ which starts at four-o’clock in the morning, +while she took her departure at nine; thus I should be some hours sooner in +Paris, and ready to receive her on her arriving; besides sparing her +bashfulness all reproach of our travelling together. It was no use my telling +her that I always travelled on foot, and hated a ‘Diligence;’ she +coolly replied that at our time of life we could not spare the time necessary +for a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, for so she supposed the journey from Lyons to +Paris to be; so fearing lest any doubt might be thrown upon the ardour of my +attachment, I yielded at once, remembering at the moment what my poor friend +Tom Bing—Oh Lord, I’m at it again!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I did not hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, ma’am, I was just going to observe, that ladies of a +certain time of life, and widows especially, like a lover that seems a little +ardent or so, all the better.” Here Mrs. Bingham blushed, her daughter +bridled, and I nearly suffocated with shame and suppressed laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“After a most tender farewell of my bride or wife, I don’t know +which, I retired for the night with a mind vacillating between my hopes of +happiness and my fears for the result of a journey so foreign to all my habits +of travelling, and in which I could not but tremble at the many casualties my +habitual laziness and dislike to any hours but of my own choosing might involve +me in. +</p> + +<p> +“I had scarcely lain down in bed, ere these thoughts took such possession +of me, that sleep for once in my life was out of the question; and then the +misery of getting up at four in the morning—putting on your clothes by +the flickering light of the porter’s candle—getting your boots on +the wrong feet, and all that kind of annoyance—I am sure I fretted myself +into the feeling of a downright martyr before an hour was over. Well at least, +thought I, one thing is well done,—I have been quite right in coming to +sleep here at the Messagerie Hotel, where the diligence starts from, or the +chances are ten to one that I never should wake till the time was past. Now, +however, they are sure to call me; so I may sleep tranquilly till then. +Meanwhile I had forgotten to pack my trunk—my papers, &c. laying all +about the room in a state of considerable confusion. I rose at once with all +the despatch I could muster; this took a long time to effect, and it was nearly +two o’clock ere I finished, and sat down to smoke a solitary +pipe,—the last, as I supposed it might be my lot to enjoy for heaven +knows how long, Mrs. R. having expressed, rather late in our intimacy I +confess, strong opinions against tobacco within doors. +</p> + +<p> +“When I had finished my little sac of the ‘weed,’ the clock +struck three, and I started to think how little time I was destined to have in +bed. In bed! why, said I, there is no use thinking of it now, for I shall +scarcely have lain down ere I shall be obliged to get up again. So thinking, I +set about dressing myself for the road; and by the time I had enveloped myself +in a pair of long Hungarian gaiters, and a kurtcha of sheep’s wool, with +a brown bear-skin outside, with a Welsh wig, and a pair of large dark glass +goggles to defend the eyes from the snow, I was not only perfectly impervious +to all effects of the weather, but so thoroughly defended from any influence of +sight or sound, that a volcano might be hissing and thundering within ten yards +of me, without attracting my slightest attention. Now, I thought, instead of +remaining here, I’ll just step down to the coach, and get snugly in the +diligence, and having secured the corner of the coupé, resign myself to sleep +with the certainty of not being left behind, and, probably, too, be some miles +on my journey before awaking. +</p> + +<p> +“I accordingly went down stairs, and to my surprise found, even at that +early hour, that many of the garcons of the house were stirring and bustling +about, getting all the luggage up in the huge wooden leviathan that was to +convey us on our road. There they stood, like bees around a hive, clustering +and buzzing, and all so engaged that with difficulty could I get an answer to +my question of, What diligence it was? ‘La diligence pour Paris, +Monsieur.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ah, all right then,’ said I; so watching an opportunity to +do so unobserved, for I supposed they might have laughed at me, I stepped +quietly into the coupé; and amid the creaking of cordage, and the thumping of +feet on the roof, fell as sound asleep as ever I did in my life—these +sounds coming to my muffled ears, soft as the echoes on the Rhine. When it was +that I awoke I cannot say; but as I rubbed my eyes and yawned after a most +refreshing sleep, I perceived that it was still quite dark all around, and that +the diligence was standing before the door of some inn and not moving. Ah, +thought I, this is the first stage; how naturally one always wakes at the +change of horses,—a kind of instinct implanted by Providence, I suppose, +to direct us to a little refreshment on the road. With these pious feelings I +let down the glass, and called out to the garcon for a glass of brandy and a +cigar. While he was bringing them, I had time to look about, and perceived, to +my very great delight, that I had the whole coupé to myself. ‘Are there +any passengers coming in here?’ said I, as the waiter came forward with +my petit verre. ‘I should think not, sir,’ said the fellow with a +leer. ‘Then I shall have the whole coupé to myself?’ said I. +‘Monsieur need have no fear of being disturbed; I can safely assure him +that he will have no one there for the next twenty-four hours.’ This was +really pleasant intelligence; so I chucked him a ten sous piece, and closing up +the window as the morning was cold, once more lay back to sleep with a success +that has never failed me. It was to a bright blue cloudless sky, and the sharp +clear air of a fine day in winter, that I at length opened my eyes. I pulled +out my watch, and discovered it was exactly two o’clock; I next lowered +the glass and looked about me, and very much to my surprise discovered that the +diligence was not moving, but standing very peaceably in a very crowded +congregation of other similar and dissimilar conveyances, all of which seemed, +I thought, to labour under some physical ailment, some wanting a box, others a +body, &c. &c. and in fact suggesting the idea of an infirmary for old +and disabled carriages of either sex, mails and others. ‘Oh, I have +it,’ cried I, ‘we are arrived at Mt. Geran, and they are all at +dinner, and from my being alone in the coupé, they have forgotten to call +me.’ I immediately opened the door and stepped out into the innyard, +crowded with conducteurs, grooms, and ostlers, who, I thought, looked rather +surprised at seeing me emerge from the diligence. +</p> + +<p> +“‘You did not know I was there,’ said I, with a knowing wink +at one of them as I passed. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Assurement non,’ said the fellow with a laugh, that was the +signal for all the others to join in it. ‘Is the table d’hote +over?’ said I, regardless of the mirth around me. ‘Monsieur is just +in time,’ said the waiter, who happened to pass with a soup-tureen in his +hand. ‘Have the goodness to step this way.’ I had barely time to +remark the close resemblance of the waiter to the fellow who presented me with +my brandy and cigar in the morning, when he ushered me into a large room with +about forty persons sitting at a long table, evidently waiting with impatience +for the ‘Potage’ to begin their dinner. Whether it was they enjoyed +the joke of having neglected to call me, or that they were laughing at my +travelling costume, I cannot say, but the moment I came in, I could perceive a +general titter run through the assembly. ‘Not too late, after all, +gentlemen,’ said I, marching gravely up the table. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Monsieur is in excellent time,’ said the host, making room +for me beside his chair. Notwithstanding the incumbrance of my weighty +habiliments, I proceeded to do ample justice to the viands before me, +apologizing laughingly to the host, by pleading a traveller’s appetite. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Then you have perhaps come far this morning,’ said a +gentleman opposite. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes,’ said I, ‘I have been on the road since four +o’clock.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘And how are the roads?’ said another. ‘Very +bad,’ said I, ‘the first few stages from Lyons, afterwards much +better.’ This was said at a venture, as I began to be ashamed of being +always asleep before my fellow-travellers. They did not seem, however, to +understand me perfectly; and one old fellow putting down his spectacles from +his forehead, leaned over and said: ‘And where, may I ask, has Monsieur +come from this morning?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘From Lyons,’ said I, with the proud air of a man who has +done a stout feat, and is not ashamed of the exploit. +</p> + +<p> +“‘From Lyons!’ said one. ‘From Lyons!’ cried +another. ‘From Lyons!’ repeated a third. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes,’ said I; ‘what the devil is so strange in it; +travelling is so quick now-a-days, one thinks nothing of twenty leagues before +dinner.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The infernal shout of laughing that followed my explanation is still in +my ears; from one end of the table to the other there was one continued ha, ha, +ha—from the greasy host to the little hunchbacked waiter, they were all +grinning away. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And how did Monsieur travel?’ said the old gentleman, who +seemed to carry on the prosecution against me. +</p> + +<p> +“‘By the diligence, the “Aigle noir,”’ said I, +giving the name with some pride, that I was not altogether ignorant of the +conveyance. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Then you should certainly not complain of the roads,’ said +the host chuckling; ‘for the only journey that diligence has made this +day has been from the street-door to the inn-yard; for as they found when the +luggage was nearly packed that the axle was almost broken through, they wheeled +it round to the court, and prepared another for the travellers.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘And where am I now?’ said I. +</p> + +<p> +“‘In Lyons,’ said twenty voices, half choked with laughter at +my question. +</p> + +<p> +“I was thunderstruck at the news at first; but as I proceeded with my +dinner, I joined in the mirth of the party, which certainly was not diminished +on my telling them the object of my intended journey. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I think, young man,’ said the old fellow with the +spectacles, ‘that you should take the occurrence as a warning of +Providence that marriage will not suit you.’ I began to be of the same +opinion;—but then there was the jointure. To be sure, I was to give up +tobacco; and perhaps I should not be as free to ramble about as when en garcon. +So taking all things into consideration, I ordered in another bottle of +burgundy, to drink Mrs. Ram’s health—got my passport vised for +Barege—and set out for the Pyrenees the same evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“And have you never heard any thing more of the lady?” said Mrs. +Bingham. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes. She was faithful to the last; for I found out when at Rome last +winter that she had offered a reward for me in the newspapers, and indeed had +commenced a regular pursuit of me through the whole continent. And to tell the +real fact, I should not now fancy turning my steps towards Paris, if I had not +very tolerable information that she is in full cry after me through the Wengen +Alps, I having contrived a paragraph in Galignani, to seduce her thither, and +where, with the blessing of Providence, if the snow set in early, she must pass +the winter.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch28" id="ch28"></a> CHAPTER XXVIII.<br/> +PARIS.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus14"></a> +<a href="images/fig14.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig14.jpg" width="428" height="600" alt="Illustration: Mr. +O’Leary Creating a Sensation at the Salon des Etranges" /></a> +<p class="caption">Mr. O’Leary Creating a Sensation at the Salon des +Etranges</p> +</div> + +<p> +Nothing more worthy of recording occurred before our arrival at Meurice on the +third day of our journey. My friend O’Leary had, with his usual good +fortune, become indispensable to his new acquaintance, and it was not +altogether without some little lurking discontent that I perceived how much +less often my services were called in request since his having joined our +party; his information, notwithstanding its very scanty extent, was continually +relied upon, and his very imperfect French everlastingly called into +requisition to interpret a question for the ladies. Yes, thought I, +“Othello’s occupation’s gone;” one of two things has +certainly happened, either Mrs. Bingham and her daughter have noticed my +continued abstraction of mind, and have attributed it to the real cause, the +pre-occupation of my affections; or thinking, on the other hand, that I am +desperately in love with one or other of them, have thought that a little show +of preference to Mr. O’Leary may stimulate me to a proposal at once. In +either case I resolved to lose no time in taking my leave, which there could be +no difficulty in doing now, as the ladies had reached their intended +destination, and had numerous friends in Paris to advise and assist them; +besides that I had too long neglected the real object of my trip, and should +lose no time in finding out the Callonbys, and at once learn what prospect of +success awaited me in that quarter. Leaving my fair friends then to refresh +themselves after the journey, and consigning Mr. O’Leary to the enjoyment +of his meershaum, through the aid of which he had rendered his apartment like a +Dutch swamp in autumn, the only portion of his own figure visible through the +mist being his short legs and heavy shoes. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the house in the Rue de la Paix, where the Callonbys had resided, I +learned that they were still at Baden, and were not expected in Paris for some +weeks; that Lord Kilkee had arrived that morning, and was then dining at the +Embassy, having left an invitation for me to dine with him on the following +day, if I happened to call. As I turned from the door, uncertain whither to +turn my steps, I walked on unconsciously towards the Boulevard, and occupied as +I was, thinking over all the chances before me, did not perceive where I stood +till the bright glare of a large gas lamp over my head apprised me that I was +at the door of the well known Salon des Etrangers, at the corner of the Rue +Richelieu; carriages, citadines, and vigilantes were crowding, crashing, and +clattering on all sides, as the host of fashion and the gaming-table were +hastening to their champ de bataille. Not being a member of the Salon, and +having little disposition to enter, if I had been, I stood for some minutes +looking at the crowd as it continued to press on towards the splendid and +brilliantly lighted stairs, which leads from the very street to the rooms of +the palace, for such, in the magnificence and luxury of its decorations, it +really is. As I was on the very eve of turning away, a large and very handsome +cab-horse turned the corner from the balustrade, with the most perfect +appointment of harness and carriage I had seen for a long time. +</p> + +<p> +While I continued to admire the taste and propriety of the equipage, a young +man in deep mourning sprung from the inside and stood upon the pavement before +me. “A deux heures, Charles,” said he to his servant, as the cab +turned slowly around. The voice struck me as well known. I waited till he +approached the lamp, to catch a glimpse of the face; and what was my surprise +to recognise my cousin, Guy Lorrequer of the 10th, whom I had not met with for +six years before. My first impulse was not to make myself known to him. Our +mutual position with regard to Lady Jane was so much a mystery, as regarded +myself, that I feared the result of any meeting, until I was sufficiently aware +of how matters stood, and whether we were to meet as friends and relations, or +rivals, and consequently enemies. +</p> + +<p> +Before I had time to take my resolution, Guy had recognised me, and seizing me +by the hand with both his, called, “Harry, my old friend, how are you? +how long have you been here, and never to call on me? Why man, what is the +meaning of this?” Before I had time to say that I was only a few hours in +Paris, he again interrupted me by saying: “And how comes it that you are +not in mourning? You must surely have heard it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heard what?” I cried, nearly hoarse from agitation. “Our +poor old friend, Sir Guy, didn’t you know, is dead.” Only those who +have felt how strong the ties of kindred are, as they decrease in number, can +tell how this news fell upon my heart. All my poor uncle’s kindnesses +came one by one full upon my memory; his affectionate letters of advice; his +well-meant chidings, too, even dearer to me than his praise and approval, +completely unmanned me; and I stood speechless and powerless before my cousin +as he continued to detail to me the rapid progress of Sir Guy’s malady, +and attack of gout in the head, which carried him off in three days. Letters +had been sent to me in different places, but none reached; and at the very +moment the clerk of my uncle’s lawyer was in pursuit of me through the +highlands, where some mistaken information had induced him to follow me. +</p> + +<p> +“You are, therefore,” continued Guy, “unaware that our uncle +has dealt so fairly by you, and indeed by both of us; I have got the +Somersetshire estates, which go with the baronetcy; but the Cumberland property +is all yours; and I heartily wish you joy of having nearly eight thousand per +annum, and one of the sweetest villas that ever man fancied on Derwentwater. +But come along here,” continued he, and he led me through the crowded +corridor and up the wide stair. “I have much to tell you, and we can be +perfectly alone here; no one will trouble themselves with us.” +Unconscious of all around me, I followed Guy along the gilded and glittering +lobby, which led to the Salon, and it was only as the servant in rich livery +came forward to take my hat and cane that I remembered where I was. Then the +full sense of all I had been listening to rushed upon me, and the unfitness, +and indeed the indecency of the place for such communications as we were +engaged in, came most forcibly before me. Sir Guy, it is true, had always +preferred my cousin to me; he it was who was always destined to succeed both to +his title and his estates, and his wildness and extravagance had ever met with +a milder rebuke and weaker chastisement than my follies and my misfortunes. Yet +still he was my last remaining relative; the only one I possessed in all the +world to whom in any difficulty or trial I had to look up; and I felt, in the +very midst of my newly acquired wealth and riches, poorer and more alone than +ever I had done in my lifetime. I followed Guy to a small and dimly lighted +cabinet off the great salon, where, having seated ourselves, he proceeded to +detail to me the various events which a few short weeks had accomplished. Of +himself he spoke but little, and never once alluded to the Callonbys at all; +indeed all I could learn was that he had left the army, and purposed remaining +for the winter at Paris, where he appeared to have entered into all its gaiety +and dissipation at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” said he, “you will give up +‘sodgering’ now; at the best it is but poor sport after five and +twenty, and is perfectly unendurable when a man has the means of pushing +himself in the gay world; and now, Harry, let us mix a little among the mob +here; for Messieurs les Banquiers don’t hold people in estimation who +come here only for the ‘chapons au riz.’ and the champagne glacee, +as we should seem to do were we to stay here much longer.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was the whirl of my thoughts, and so great the confusion in my ideas from +all I had just heard, that I felt myself implicitly following every direction +of my cousin with a child-like obedience, of the full extent of which I became +only conscious when I found myself seated at the table of the Salon, between my +cousin Guy and an old, hard-visaged, pale-countenanced man, who he told me in a +whisper was Vilelle the Minister. +</p> + +<p> +What a study for the man who would watch the passions and emotions of his +fellow-men, would the table of a rouge et noir gambling-house present—the +skill and dexterity which games of other kinds require, being here wanting, +leave the player free to the full abandonment of the passion. The interest is +not a gradually increasing or vacillating one, as fortune and knowledge of the +game favour; the result is uninfluenced by any thing of his doing; with the +last turned card of the croupier is he rich or ruined; and thus in the very +abstraction of the anxiety is this the most painfully exciting of all gambling +whatever; the very rattle of the dice-box to the hazard player is a relief; and +the thought that he is in some way instrumental in his good or bad fortune +gives a turn to his thoughts. There is something so like the inevitable +character of fate associated with the result of a chance, which you can in no +way affect or avert, that I have, notwithstanding a strong bias for play, ever +dreaded and avoided the rouge et noir table; hitherto prudential motives had +their share in the resolve; a small loss at play becomes a matter of importance +to a sub in a marching regiment; and therefore I was firm in my determination +to avoid the gambling-table. Now my fortunes were altered; and as I looked at +the heap of shining louis d’or, which Guy pushed before me in exchange +for a billet de banque of large amount, I felt the full importance of my +altered position, mingling with the old and long practised prejudices which +years had been accumulating to fix. There is besides some wonderful fascination +to most men in the very aspect of high play: to pit your fortune against that +of another—to see whether or not your luck shall not exceed some +others—are feelings that have a place in most bosoms, and are certainly, +if not naturally existing, most easily generated in the bustle and excitement +of the gambling-house. The splendour of the decorations; the rich profusion of +gilded ornaments; the large and gorgeously framed mirrors; the sparkling +lustres; mingling their effect with the perfumed air of the apartment, filled +with orange trees and other aromatic shrubs; the dress of the company, among +whom were many ladies in costumes not inferior to those of a court; the glitter +of diamonds; the sparkle of stars and decorations, rendered more magical by +knowing that the wearers were names in history. There, with his round but ample +shoulder, and large massive head, covered with long snow-white hair, stands +Talleyrand, the maker and unmaker of kings, watching with a look of +ill-concealed anxiety the progress of his game. Here is Soult, with his dogged +look and beetled brow; there stands Balzac the author, his gains here are less +derived from the betting than the bettors; he is evidently making his own of +some of them, while in the seeming bon hommie of his careless manners and easy +abandon, they scruple not to trust him with anecdotes and traits, that from the +crucible of his fiery imagination come forth, like the purified gold from the +furnace. And there, look at that old and weather-beaten man, with grey +eyebrows, and moustaches, who throws from the breast-pocket of his frock ever +and anon, a handful of gold pieces upon the table; he evidently neither knows +nor cares for the amount, for the banker himself is obliged to count over the +stake for him—that is Blucher, the never-wanting attendant at the Salon; +he has been an immense loser, but plays on with the same stern perseverance +with which he would pour his bold cavalry through a ravine torn by artillery; +he stands by the still waning chance with a courage that never falters. +</p> + +<p> +One strong feature of the levelling character of a taste for play has never +ceased to impress me most forcibly—not only do the individual +peculiarities of the man give way before the all-absorbing passion—but +stranger still, the very boldest traits of nationality even fade and disappear +before it; and man seems, under the high-pressure power of this greatest of all +stimulants, resolved into a most abstract state. +</p> + +<p> +Among all the traits which distinguish Frenchmen from natives of every country, +none is more prominent than a kind of never-failing elasticity of temperament, +which seems almost to defy all the power of misfortune to depress. Let what +will happen, the Frenchman seems to possess some strong resource within +himself, in his ardent temperament, upon which he can draw at will; and whether +on the day after a defeat, the moment of being deceived in his strongest hopes +of returned affection—the overthrow of some long-cherished wish—it +matters not—he never gives way entirely; but see him at the +gaming-table—watch the intense, the aching anxiety with which his eye +follows every card as it falls from the hand of the croupier—behold the +look of cold despair that tracks his stake as the banker rakes it in among his +gains—and you will at once perceive that here, at least, his wonted +powers fail him. No jest escapes the lips of one, that would badinet upon the +steps of the guillotine. The mocker who would jeer at the torments of +revolution, stands like a coward quailing before the impassive eye and pale +cheek of a croupier. While I continued to occupy myself by observing the +different groups about me, I had been almost mechanically following the game, +placing at each deal some gold upon the table; the result however had +interested me so slightly, that it was only by remarking the attention my game +had excited in others, that my own was drawn towards it. I then perceived that +I had permitted my winnings to accumulate upon the board, and that in the very +deal then commencing, I had a stake of nearly five hundred pounds upon the +deal. +</p> + +<p> +“Faites votre jeu, le jeu est fait,” said the croupier, +“trente deux.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have lost, by Jove,” said Guy, in a low whisper, in which I +could detect some trait of agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Trente et une,” added the croupier. “Rouge perd, et +couleur.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a regular buz of wonder through the room at my extraordinary luck, +for thus, with every chance against me, I had won again. +</p> + +<p> +As the croupier placed the billets de banque upon the table, I overheard the +muttered commendations of an old veteran behind me, upon the coolness and +judgment of my play; so much for fortune, thought I, my judgment consists in a +perfect ignorance of the chances, and my coolness is merely a thorough +indifference to success; whether it was now that the flattery had its effect +upon me, or that the passion for play, so long dormant, had suddenly seized +hold upon me, I know not, but my attention became from that moment rivetted +upon the game, and I played every deal. Guy, who had been from the first +betting with the indifferent success which I have so often observed to attend +upon the calculations of old and experienced gamblers, now gave up, and +employed himself merely in watching my game. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry,” said he at last, “I am completely puzzled as to +whether you are merely throwing down your louis at hazard, or are not the +deepest player I have ever met with.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall see,” said I, as I stooped over towards the banker, and +whispered, “how far is the betting permitted?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fifteen thousand francs,” said the croupier, with a look of +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Then be it,” said I; “quinze mille francs, rouge.” +</p> + +<p> +In a moment the rouge won, and the second deal I repeated the bet, and so +continuing on with the like success; when I was preparing my rouleau for the +fifth, the banquier rose, and saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Messiers, la banque est fermee pour ce soir,” proceeded to lock +his casette, and close the table. +</p> + +<p> +“You are satisfied now,” said Guy, rising, “you see you have +broke the banque, and a very pretty incident to commence with your first +introduction to a campaign in Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +Having changed my gold for notes, I stuffed them, with an air of well-affected +carelessness, into my pocket, and strolled through the Salon, where I had now +become an object of considerably more interest than all the marshals and +ministers about me. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Hal,” said Guy, “I’ll just order our supper in +the cabinet, and join you in a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +As I remained for some minutes awaiting Guy’s return, my attention was +drawn towards a crowd, in a smaller salon, among whom the usual silent decorum +of the play-table seemed held in but small respect, for every instant some +burst of hearty laughter, or some open expression of joy or anger burst forth, +by which I immediately perceived that they were the votaries of the roulette +table, a game at which the strict propriety and etiquette ever maintained at +rouge et noir, are never exacted. As I pressed nearer, to discover the cause of +the mirth, which every moment seemed to augment, guess my surprise to perceive +among the foremost rank of the players, my acquaintance, Mr. O’Leary, +whom I at that moment believed to be solacing himself with his meershaum at +Meurice. My astonishment at how he obtained admission to the Salon was even +less than my fear of his recognising me. At no time is it agreeable to find +that the man who is regarded as the buffo of a party turns out to be your +friend, but still less is this so, when the individual claiming acquaintance +with you presents any striking absurdity in his dress or manner, strongly at +contrast with the persons and things about him; and thus it now +happened—Mr. O’Leary’s external man, as we met him on the +Calais road, with its various accompaniments of blouse-cap, spectacles, and +tobacco-pipe, were nothing very outre or remarkable, but when the same figure +presented itself among the elegans of the Parisian world, redolent of eau de +Portugal, and superb in the glories of brocade waistcoats and velvet coats, the +thing was too absurd, and I longed to steal away before any chance should +present itself of a recognition. This, however, was impossible, as the crowd +from the other table were all gathered round us, and I was obliged to stand +fast, and trust that the excitement of the game, in which he appeared to be +thoroughly occupied, might keep his eye fixed on another quarter; I now +observed that the same scene in which I had so lately been occupied at the +rouge et noir table, was enacting here, under rather different circumstances. +Mr. O’Leary was the only player, as I had just been—not, however, +because his success absorbed all the interest of the bystanders, but that, +unfortunately, his constant want of it elicited some strong expression of +discontent and mistrust from him, which excited the loud laughter of the +others; but of which, from his great anxiety in his game, he seemed totally +unconscious. +</p> + +<p> +“Faites votre jeu, Messieurs,” said the croupier. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a bit till I change this,” said Mr. O’Leary, producing +an English sovereign; the action interpreted his wishes, and the money was +converted into coupons de jeu. +</p> + +<p> +I now discovered one great cause of the mirth of the bystanders, at least the +English portion of them. Mr. O’Leary, when placing his money upon the +table, observed the singular practice of announcing aloud the amount of his +bet, which, for his own information, he not only reduced to English but also +Irish currency; thus the stillness of the room was every instant broken by a +strong Irish accent pronouncing something of this sort—“five +francs,” “four and a penny”—“ten francs,” +“eight and three ha’pence.” The amusement thus caused was +increased by the excitement his losses threw him into. He now ceased to play +for several times, when at last, he made an offering of his usual stake. +</p> + +<p> +“Perd,” said the croupier, raking in the piece with a contemptuous +air at the smallness of the bet, and in no way pleased that the interest Mr. +O’Leary excited should prevent the other players from betting. +</p> + +<p> +“Perd,” said O’Leary, “again. Divil another song you +sing than ‘perd,’ and I’m not quite clear you’re not +cheating all the while—only, God help you if you are!” +</p> + +<p> +As he so said, the head of a huge black-thorn stick was half protruded across +the table, causing renewed mirth; for, among other regulations, every cane, +however trifling, is always demanded at the door; and thus a new subject of +astonishment arose as to how he had succeeded in carrying it with him into the +salon. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s at you again,” said O’Leary, regardless of the +laughter, and covering three or four numbers with his jetons. +</p> + +<p> +Round went the ball once more, and once more he lost. +</p> + +<p> +“Look now, divil a lie in it, he makes them go wherever he pleases. +I’ll take a turn now at the tables; fair play’s a jewel—and +we’ll see how you’ll get on.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he proceeded to insinuate himself into the chair of the croupier, +whom he proposed to supersede by no very gentle means. This was of course +resisted, and as the loud mirth of the bystanders grew more and more +boisterous, the cries of “a la porte, a la porte,” from the friends +of the bank, rung through the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +“Go it, Pat—go it, Pat,” said Guy, over my shoulder, who +seemed to take a prodigious interest in the proceedings. +</p> + +<p> +At this unexpected recognition of his nativity, for Mr. O’Leary never +suspected he could be discovered by his accent; he looked across the table, and +caught my eye at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m safe now! stand by me, Mr. Lorrequer, and we’ll +clear the room.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, and without any further provocation, he upset the croupier, chair +and all, with one sudden jerk upon the floor, and giving a tremendous kick to +the casette, sent all the five-franc pieces flying over him; he then jumped +upon the table, and brandishing his black-thorn through the ormolu lustre, +scattered the wax-lights on all sides, accompanying the exploit by a yell that +would have called up all Connemara at midnight, if it had only been heard +there; in an instant, the gens d’armes, always sufficiently near to be +called in if required, came pouring into the room, and supposing the whole +affair had been a preconcerted thing to obtain possession of the money in the +bank, commenced capturing different members of the company who appeared, by +enjoying the confusion, to be favouring and assisting it. My cousin Guy was one +of the first so treated—a proceeding to which he responded by an appeal +rather in favour with most Englishmen, and at once knocked down the gen +d’arme; this was the signal for a general engagement, and accordingly, +before an explanation could possibly be attempted, a most terrific combat +ensued. The Frenchmen in the room siding with the gen d’armerie, and +making common cause against the English; who, although greatly inferior in +number, possessed considerable advantage, from long habit in street-rows and +boxing encounters. As for myself, I had the good fortune to be pitted against a +very pursy and unwieldy Frenchman, who sacre’d to admiration, but never +put in a single blow at me; while, therefore, I amused myself practising what +old Cribb called “the one, two,” upon his fat carcase, I had +abundant time and opportunity to watch all that was doing about me, and truly a +more ludicrous affair I never beheld. Imagine about fifteen or sixteen young +Englishmen, most of them powerful, athletic fellows, driving an indiscriminate +mob of about five times their number before them, who, with courage enough to +resist, were yet so totally ignorant of the boxing art, that they retreated, +pell-mell, before the battering phalanx of their sturdy opponents—the +most ludicrous figure of all being Mr. O’Leary himself, who, standing +upon the table, laid about him with a brass lustre that he had unstrung, and +did considerable mischief with this novel instrument of warfare, crying out the +entire time, “murder every mother’s son of them,” “give +them another taste of Waterloo.” Just as he had uttered the last +patriotic sentiment, he received a slight admonition from behind, by the point +of a gen d’arme’s sword, which made him leap from the table with +the alacrity of a harlequin, and come plump down among the thickest of the +fray. My attention was now directed elsewhere, for above all the din and +“tapage” of the encounter I could plainly hear the row-dow-dow of +the drums, and the measured tread of troops approaching, and at once guessed +that a reinforcement of the gen d’armerie were coming up. Behind me there +was a large window, with a heavy scarlet curtain before it; my resolution was +at once taken, I floored my antagonist, whom I had till now treated with the +most merciful forbearance, and immediately sprung behind the curtain. A +second’s consideration showed that in the search that must ensue this +would afford no refuge, so I at once opened the sash, and endeavoured to +ascertain at what height I was above the ground beneath me; the night was so +dark that I could see nothing, but judging from the leaves and twigs that +reached to the window, that it was a garden beneath, and auguring from the +perfumed smell of the shrubs, that they could not be tall trees, I resolved to +leap, a resolve I had little time to come to, for the step of the soldiers was +already heard upon the stair. Fixing my hat then down upon my brows, and +buttoning my coat tightly, I let myself down from the window-stool by my hands, +and fell upon my legs in the soft earth of the garden, safe and unhurt. From +the increased clamour and din overhead, I could learn the affray was at its +height, and had little difficulty in detecting the sonorous accent and wild +threats of my friend Mr. O’Leary, high above all the other sounds around +him. I did not wait long, however, to enjoy them; but at once set about +securing my escape from my present bondage. In this I had little difficulty, +for I was directed by a light to a small door, which, as I approached, found +that it led into the den of the Concierge, and also communicated by another +door with the street. I opened it, therefore, at once, and was in the act of +opening the second, when I felt myself seized by the collar by a strong hand; +and on turning round saw the sturdy figure of the Concierge himself, with a +drawn bayonet within a few inches of my throat, “Tenez, mon ami,” +said I quietly, and placing half a dozen louis, some of my recent spoils, in +his hand, at once satisfied him that, even if I were a robber, I was at least +one that understood and respected the conveniences of society. He at once +relinquished his hold and dropped his weapon, and pulling off his cap with one +hand, to draw the cord which opened the Porte Cochere with the other, bowed me +politely to the street. I had scarcely had time to insinuate myself into the +dense mass of people whom the noise and confusion within had assembled around +the house, when the double door of the building opened, and a file of gens +d’armerie came forth, leading between them my friend Mr. O’Leary +and some others of the rioters—among whom I rejoiced to find my cousin +did not figure. If I were to judge from his disordered habiliments and scarred +visage, Mr. O’Leary’s resistance to the constituted authorities +must have been a vigorous one, and the drollery of his appearance was certainly +not decreased by his having lost the entire brim of his hat—the covering +of his head bearing, under these distressing circumstances, a strong +resemblance to a saucepan. +</p> + +<p> +As I could not at that moment contribute in any way to his rescue, I determined +on the following day to be present at his examination, and render him all the +assistance in my power. Meanwhile, I returned to Meurice, thinking of every +adventure of the evening much more than of my own changed condition and altered +fortunes. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch29" id="ch29"></a> CHAPTER XXIX.<br/> +PARIS.</h2> + +<p> +The first thing which met my eye, when waking in the morning, after the affair +at the salon, was the rouleau of billets de banque which I had won at play; and +it took several minutes before I could persuade myself that the entire +recollection of the evening had any more solid foundation than a heated brain +and fevered imagination. The sudden spring, from being a subaltern in the +—th, with a few hundreds per annum—“pour tout potage,” +to becoming the veritable proprietor of several thousands, with a handsome +house in Cumberland, was a consideration which I could scarcely admit into my +mind—so fearful was I, that the very first occurrence of the day should +dispel the illusion, and throw me back into the dull reality which I was hoping +to escape from. +</p> + +<p> +There is no adage more true than the old Latin one—“that what we +wish, we readily believe;” so, I had little difficulty in convincing +myself that all was as I desired—although, certainly, my confused memory +of the past evening contributed little to that conviction. It was, then, amid a +very whirl of anticipated pleasures, and new schemes for enjoying life, that I +sat down to a breakfast, at which, that I might lose no time in commencing my +race, I had ordered the most recherche viands which even French cookery can +accomplish for the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +My plans were soon decided upon. I resolved to remain only long enough in Paris +to provide myself with a comfortable travelling carriage—secure a good +courier—and start for Baden; when I trusted that my pretensions, whatever +favour they might have been once received with, would certainly now, at least, +be listened to with more prospect of being successful. +</p> + +<p> +I opened the Galignani’s paper of the day, to direct me in my search, and +had scarcely read a few lines before a paragraph caught my eye, which not a +little amused me; it was headed—Serious riot at the Salon des Etrangers, +and attempt to rob the Bank:— +</p> + +<p> +“Last evening, among the persons who presented themselves at the table of +this fashionable resort, were certain individuals, who, by their names and +dress bespoke any thing rather than the rank and condition of those who usually +resort there, and whose admission is still unexplained, notwithstanding the +efforts of the police to unravel the mystery. The proprietors of the bank did +not fail to remark these persons; but scrupled, from fear of disturbing the +propriety of the salon, to take the necessary steps for their +exclusion—reserving their attention to the adoption of precautions +against such intrusion in future—unfortunately, as it turned out +eventually, for, towards eleven o’clock, one of these individuals, having +lost a considerable sum at play, proceeded in a very violent and outrageous +manner to denounce the bank, and went so far as to accuse the croupier of +cheating. This language having failed to excite the disturbance it was +evidently intended to promote, was soon followed up by a most dreadful personal +attack upon the banquier, in which he was thrown from his seat, and the +cassette, containing several thousand francs in gold and notes, immediately +laid hold of. The confusion now became considerable, and it was apparent, that +the whole had been a pre-concerted scheme. Several persons, leaping upon the +table, attempted to extinguish the great lustre of the salon, in which bold +attempt, they were most spiritedly resisted by some of the other players and +the gens-d’arme, who had by this time arrived in force. The riot was +quelled after a prolonged and desperate resistance, and the rioters, with the +exception of two, were captured, and conveyed to prison, where they await the +result of a judicial investigation—of which we shall not fail to lay the +particulars before our readers. +</p> + +<p> +“Since our going to press, we have learned that one of the ringleaders in +this vile scheme is a noted English escroc—a swindler, who was already +arrest at C—— for travelling with a false passport; but who +contrives, by some collusion with another of the gang, to evade the local +authorities. If this be the case, we trust he will speedily be detected and +brought to punishment.” +</p> + +<p> +Whatever amusement I had found in reading the commencing portion of this +ridiculous misstatement, the allusion in the latter part by no means afforded +me equal pleasure; and I saw, in one rapid glance, how much annoyance, and how +many delays and impediments—a charge even of this ridiculous nature, +might give rise to in my present circumstances. My passport, however, will +settle all—thought I—as I thrust my hand towards my pocket, in +which I had placed it along with some letters. +</p> + +<p> +Guess my misery, to discover that the whole of the pocket had been cut away, +probably in the hope of obtaining the billets de banque I had won at play, but +which I had changed from that pocket to a breast one on leaving the table. This +at once led me to suspect that there might be some truth in the suspicion of +the newspaper writer of a pre-concerted scheme, and at once explained to me +what had much puzzled me before—the extreme rapidity with which the +elements of discord were propagated, for the whole affair was the work of a few +seconds. While I continued to meditate on these matters, the waiter entered +with a small note in an envelope, which a commissionaire had just left at the +hotel for me, and went away, saying there was no answer. I opened it hastily, +and read:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Dear H.—The confounded affair of last night has induced me to +leave this for a few days; besides that I have obtained a most excellent reason +for absenting myself in the presence of a black eye, which will prevent my +appearance in public for a week to come. As you are a stranger here, you need +not fear being detected. With all its desagremens, I can’t help laughing +at the adventure, and I am heartily glad to have had the opportunity of +displaying old Jackson’s science upon those wretched +gens-d’arme. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Your, truly,<br/> +“G.L.” +</p> + +<p> +This, certainly, thought I, improves my position. Here is my cousin +Guy—the only one to whom, in any doubt or difficulty here, I could +refer—here he is—flown, without letting me know where to address +him or find him out. I rung my bell hastily, and having written a line on my +card, requesting Lord Kilkee to come to me as soon as he could, despatched it +to the Rue de la Paix. The messenger soon returned with an answer, that Lord +Kilkee had been obliged to leave Paris late the evening before, having received +some important letters from Baden. My anxiety now became greater. I did not +know but that the moment I ventured to leave the hotel I should be recognised +by some of the witnesses of the evening’s fray; and all thoughts of +succouring poor O’Leary were completely forgotten in my fear for the +annoyances the whole of this ridiculous affair might involve me in. Without any +decision as to my future steps, I dressed myself, and proceeded to pay my +respects to Mrs. Bingham and her daughter, who were in the same hotel, and whom +I had not seen since our arrival. +</p> + +<p> +As I entered the drawing-room, I was surprised to find Miss Bingham alone. She +appeared to have been weeping—at least the efforts she made to appear +easy and in good spirits contrasted a good deal with the expression of her +features as I came in. To my inquiries for Mrs. Bingham, I received for answer +that the friends Mrs. Bingham had expected having left a few days before for +Baden, she had resolved on following them, and had now merely driven out to +make a few purchases before her departure, which was to take place in the +morning. +</p> + +<p> +There is something so sad in the thought of being deserted and left by +one’s friends under any circumstances, that I cannot express how much +this intelligence affected me. It seemed, too, like the last stroke of bad news +filling up the full measure, that I was to be suddenly deprived of the society +of the very few friends about me, just as I stood most in need of them. +</p> + +<p> +Whether or not Miss Bingham noticed my embarrassment, I cannot say; but +certainly she seemed not displeased, and there was in the half-encouraging tone +of her manner something which led me to suspect that she was not dissatisfied +with the impression her news seemed to produce upon me. +</p> + +<p> +Without at all alluding to my own improved fortune, or to the events of the +preceding night, I began to talk over the coming journey, and expressed my +sincere regret that, having lost my passport under circumstances which might +create some delay in retrieving it, I could not join their party as I should +otherwise have done. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Bingham heard this speech with rather more emotion than so simple a +declaration was calculated to produce; and, while she threw down her eyes +beneath their long dark lashes, and coloured slightly, asked— +</p> + +<p> +“And did you really wish to come with us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“And is there no other objection than the passport?” +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever,” said I, warming as I spoke, for the interest she +appeared to take in me completely upset all my calculations, besides that I had +never seen her looking so handsome, and that, as the French wisely remark, +“vaut toujours quelque chose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then, pray come with us, which you can do, for mamma has just got +her passport for her nephew along with her own; and as we really don’t +want him, nor he us, we shall both be better pleased to be free of each other, +and you can easily afterwards have your own forwarded to Baden by post.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but,” said I, “how shall I be certain, if I take so +flattering an offer, that you will forgive me for filling up the place of the +dear cousin; for, if I conjecture aright, it is ‘Le Cher Edouard’ +that purposes to be your companion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you have guessed quite correctly; but you must not tax me with +inconsistency, but really I have grown quite tired of my poor cousin, since I +saw him last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you used to admire him prodigiously.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, that is all true, but I do so no longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh! perche,” said I, looking cunningly in her eye. +</p> + +<p> +“For reasons that Mr. Lorrequer shall never know if he has to ask +them,” said the poor girl, covering her eyes with her hands, and sobbing +bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +What I thought, said, or did upon this occasion, with all my most sincere +desire to make a “clean breast of it in these confessions,” I know +not; but this I do know, that two hours after, I found myself still sitting +upon the sofa beside Miss Bingham, whom I had been calling Emily all the while, +and talking more of personal matters and my own circumstances than is ever safe +or prudent for a young man to do with any lady under the age of his mother. +</p> + +<p> +All that I can now remember of this interview, is the fact of having arranged +my departure in the manner proposed by Miss Bingham—a proposition to +which I acceded with an affectation of satisfaction that I fear went very far +to deceive my fair friend. Not that the pleasure I felt in the prospect was +altogether feigned; but certainly the habit of being led away by the whim and +temper of the moment had so much become part of my nature, that I had long +since despaired of ever guarding myself against the propensity I had acquired, +of following every lead which any one might throw out for me. And thus, as poor +Harry Lorrequer was ever the first man to get into a row at the suggestion of a +friend, so he only waited the least possible pressing on any occasion, to +involve himself in any scrape or misfortune that presented itself, provided +there was only some one good enough to advise him to do so. +</p> + +<p> +As I entered my own room, to make preparations for my departure, I could not +help thinking over all the events thus crowded into the space of a few hours. +My sudden possession of wealth—my prospects at Callonby still +undecided—my scrape at the Salon—my late interview with Miss +Bingham, in which I had only stopped short of a proposal to marry, were almost +sufficient to occupy any reasonable mind; and so I was beginning to suspect, +when the waiter informed me that the Commissaire of Police was in waiting +below, and wished to speak to me. Affecting some surprise at the request which +I at once perceived the object of, I desired him to be introduced. I was quite +correct in my guess. The information of my being concerned in the affair at the +Salon had been communicated to the authorities, and the Commissaire had orders +to obtain bail for my appearance at the Tribunal de Justice, on that day week, +or commit me at once to prison. The Commissaire politely gave me till evening +to procure the required bail, satisfying himself that he could adopt measures +to prevent my escape, and took his leave. He had scarcely gone when Mr. Edward +Bingham was announced—the reason for this visit I could not so easily +divine; but I had little time allowed for my conjectures, as the same instant a +very smart, dapper little gentleman presented himself, dressed in all the +extravagance of French mode. His hair, which was permitted to curl upon his +shoulders, was divided along the middle of the head; his moustaches were +slightly upturned and carefully waxed, and his small chin-tuft or Henri-quatre +most gracefully pointed; he wore three most happily contrasting coloured +waistcoats, and spurs of glittering brass. His visit was of scarcely five +minutes’ duration; but was evidently the opening of a breaching battery +by the Bingham family in all form—the object of which I could at least +guess at. +</p> + +<p> +My embarrassments were not destined to end here; for scarcely had I returned +Mr. Bingham’s eighth salutation at the head of the staircase, when +another individual presented himself before me. This figure was in every +respect the opposite of my last visitor. Although framed perfectly upon the +late Parisian school of dandyism, his, however, was the “ecole +militaire.” Le Capitaine Eugene de Joncourt, for so he introduced +himself, was a portly personage, of about five-and-thirty or forty years of +age, with that mixture of bon hommie and ferocity in his features which the +soldiers of Napoleon’s army either affected or possessed naturally. His +features, which were handsome, and the expression of which was pleasing, were, +as it seemed, perverted, by the warlike turn of a most terrific pair of +whiskers and moustaches, from their naturally good-humoured bent; and the +practised frown and quick turn of his dark eye were evidently only the acquired +advantages of his military career; a handsome mouth, with singularly regular +and good teeth, took much away from the farouche look of the upper part of his +face; and contributed, with the aid of a most pleasing voice, to impress you in +his favour; his dress was a blue braided frock, decorated with the cordon of +the legion; but neither these, nor the clink of his long cavalry spurs, were +necessary to convince you that the man was a soldier; besides that, there was +that mixture of urbanity and aplomb in his manner which showed him to be +perfectly accustomed to the usages of the best society. +</p> + +<p> +“May I beg to know,” said he, as he seated himself slowly, +“if this card contains your name and address,” handing me at the +same moment one of my visiting cards. I immediately replied in the affirmative. +</p> + +<p> +“You are then in the English service?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, may I entreat your pardon for the trouble of these questions, and +explain the reason of my visit. I am the friend of Le Baron D’Haulpenne, +with whom you had the altercation last night in the Salon, and in whose name I +have come to request the address of a friend on your part.” +</p> + +<p> +Ho, ho, thought I, the Baron is then the stout gentleman that I pummelled so +unmercifully near the window; but how came he by my card; and besides, in a row +of that kind, I am not aware how far the matter can be conceived to go farther, +than what happens at the moment. These were the thoughts of a second of time, +and before I could reply any thing, the captain resumed. +</p> + +<p> +“You seem to have forgotten the circumstance, and so indeed should I like +to do; but unfortunately D’Haulpenne says that you struck him with your +walking-cane, so you know, under such a state of things, there is but one +course.” +</p> + +<p> +“But gently,” added I, “I had no cane whatever the last +evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I beg pardon,” interrupted he; “but my friend is most +positive in his account, and describes the altercation as having continued from +the Salon to the street, when you struck him, and at the same time threw him +your card. Two of our officers were also present; and although, as it appears +from your present forgetfulness, that the thing took place in the heat and +excitement of the moment, still—” +</p> + +<p> +“But still,” said I, catching up his last words, “I never did +strike the gentleman as you describe—never had any altercation in the +street—and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that your address?” said the Frenchman, with a slight bow. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, certainly it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why then,” said he, with a slight curl of his upper lip—half +smile, half derision— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! make yourself perfectly easy,” I replied. “If any one +has by an accident made use of my name, it shall not suffer by such a mistake. +I shall be quite at your service, the moment I can find out a friend to refer +you to.” +</p> + +<p> +I had much difficulty to utter these few words with a suitable degree of +temper, so stung was I by the insolent demeanour of the Frenchman, whose +coolness and urbanity seemed only to increase every moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I have the honour to salute you,” said he, rising with great +mildness in his voice; “and shall take the liberty to leave my card for +the information of your friend.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he placed his card upon the table—“Le Capitaine Eugene +de Joncourt, Cuirassiers de la Garde.” +</p> + +<p> +“I need not press upon Monsieur the value of despatch.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not lose a moment,” said I, as he clattered down the +stairs of the hotel, with that perfect swaggering nonchalance which a Frenchman +is always an adept in; and I returned to my room, to meditate upon my numerous +embarrassments, and think over the difficulties which every moment was +contributing to increase the number of. +</p> + +<p> +“The indictment has certainly many counts,” thought I. +</p> + +<p> +Imprimis—A half-implied, but fully comprehended promise to marry a young +lady, with whom, I confess, I only intend to journey this life—as far as +Baden. +</p> + +<p> +Secondly, a charge of swindling—for such the imputation goes to—at +the Salon. +</p> + +<p> +Thirdly, another unaccountable delay in joining the Callonbys, with whom I am +every hour in the risque of being “compromis;” and lastly, a duel +in perspective with some confounded Frenchman, who is at this very moment +practising at a pistol gallery. +</p> + +<p> +Such were the heads of my reflections, and such the agreeable impressions my +visit to Paris was destined to open with; how they were to be followed up I +reserve for another chapter. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch30" id="ch30"></a> CHAPTER XXX.<br/> +CAPTAIN TREVANION’S ADVENTURE.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus15"></a> +<a href="images/fig15.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig15.jpg" width="435" height="600" alt="Illustration: +Trevanion Astonishing the Bully Gendemar" /></a> +<p class="caption">Trevanion Astonishing the Bully Gendemar</p> +</div> + +<p> +As the day was now waning apace, and I was still unprovided with any one who +could act as my second, I set out upon a search through the various large +hotels in the neighbourhood, trusting that amid my numerous acquaintance I +should be fortunate enough to find some of them at Paris. With a most anxious +eye I scanned the lists of arrivals at the usual haunts of my countrymen, in +the Rue Rivoli, and the Place Vendome, but without success; there were long +catalogues of “Milors,” with their “couriers,” &c. +but not one name known to me in the number. +</p> + +<p> +I repaired to Galignani’s library, which, though crowded as ever with +English, did not present to me one familiar face. From thence I turned into the +Palais Royale, and at last, completely jaded by walking, and sick from +disappointment, I sat down upon a bench in the Tuilleries Garden. +</p> + +<p> +I had scarcely been there many minutes when a gentleman accosted me in English, +saying, “May I ask if this be your property?” showing, at the same +time, a pocket-book which I had inadvertently dropped in pulling out my +handkerchief. As I thanked him for his attention, and was about to turn away, I +perceived that he continued to look very steadily at me. At length he said, +</p> + +<p> +“I think I am not mistaken; I have the pleasure to see Mr. Lorrequer, who +may perhaps recollect my name, Trevanion of the 43rd. The last time we met was +at Malta.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I remember perfectly. Indeed I should be very ungrateful if I did +not; for to your kind offices there I am indebted for my life. You must surely +recollect the street row at the ‘Caserne?’” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; that was a rather brisk affair while it lasted; but, pray, how long +are you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Merely a few days; and most anxious am I to leave as soon as possible; +for, independently of pressing reasons to wish myself elsewhere, I have had +nothing but trouble and worry since my arrival, and at this instant am involved +in a duel, without the slightest cause that I can discover, and, what is still +worse, without the aid of a single friend to undertake the requisite +negociation for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“If my services can in any way assist—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear captain, this is really so great a favour that I cannot say +how much I thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say nothing whatever, but rest quite assured that I am completely at +your disposal; for although we are not very old friends, yet I have heard so +much of you from some of ours, that I feel as if we had been long +acquainted.” +</p> + +<p> +This was an immense piece of good fortune to me; for, of all the persons I +knew, he was the most suited to aid me at this moment. In addition to a +thorough knowledge of the continent and its habits, he spoke French fluently, +and had been the most renomme authority in the duello to a large military +acquaintance; joining to a consummate tact and cleverness in his diplomacy, a +temper that never permitted itself to be ruffled, and a most unexceptionable +reputation for courage. In a word, to have had Trevanion for your second, was +not only to have secured odds in your favour, but, still better, to have +obtained the certainty that, let the affair take what turn it might, you were +sure of coming out of it with credit. He was the only man I have ever met, who +had much mixed himself in transactions of this nature, and yet never, by any +chance, had degenerated into the fire-eater; more quiet, unassuming manners it +was impossible to meet with, and, in the various anecdotes I have heard of him, +I have always traced a degree of forbearance, that men of less known bravery +might not venture to practise. At the same time, when once roused by any thing +like premeditated insult—or pre-determined affront—he became almost +ungovernable, and it would be safer to beard the lion in his den than cross his +path. Among the many stories, and there were a great many current in his +regiment concerning him, there was one so singularly characteristic of the man, +that, as I have passingly mentioned his name here, I may as well relate it; at +the same time premising that, as it is well known, I may only be repeating an +often-heard tale to many of my readers. +</p> + +<p> +When the regiment to which Trevanion belonged became part of the army of +occupation in Paris, he was left at Versailles seriously ill from the effects +of a sabre-wound he received at Waterloo, and from which his recovery at first +was exceedingly doubtful. At the end of several weeks, however, he became out +of danger, and was able to receive the visits of his brother officers, whenever +they were fortunate enough to obtain a day’s leave of absence, to run +down and see him. From them he learned that one of his oldest friends in the +regiment had fallen in a duel, during the time of his illness, and that two +other officers were dangerously wounded—one of whom was not expected to +survive. When he inquired as to the reasons of these many disasters, he was +informed that since the entrance of the allies into Paris, the French officers, +boiling with rage and indignation at their recent defeat, and smarting under +the hourly disgrace which the presence of their conquerors suggested, sought +out, by every means in their power, opportunities of insult; but always so +artfully contrived as to render the opposite party the challenger, thus +reserving to themselves the choice of weapons. When therefore it is borne in +mind that the French are the most expert swordsmen in Europe, little doubt can +exist as to the issue of these combats; and, in fact, scarcely a morning passed +without three or four English or Prussian officers being carried through the +Barriere de l’Etoile, if not dead, at least seriously wounded, and +condemned to carry with them through life the inflictions of a sanguinary and +savage spirit of revenge. +</p> + +<p> +While Trevanion listened to this sad recital, and scarcely did a day come +without adding to the long catalogue of disasters, he at once perceived that +the quiet deportment and unassuming demeanour which so strongly characterise +the English officer, were construed by their French opponents into evidences of +want of courage, and saw that to so systematic a plan for slaughter no common +remedy could be applied, and that some “coup d’etat” was +absolutely necessary, to put it down once and for ever. +</p> + +<p> +In the history of these sanguinary rencontres, one name was continually +recurring, generally as the principal, sometimes the instigator of the quarrel. +This was an officer of a chasseur regiment, who had the reputation of being the +best swordsman in the whole French army, and was no less distinguished for his +“skill at fence,” than his uncompromising hatred of the British, +with whom alone, of all the allied forces, he was ever known to come in +contact. So celebrated was the “Capitaine Augustin Gendemar” for +his pursuits, that it was well known at that time in Paris that he was the +president of a duelling club, associated for the express and avowed object of +provoking to insult, and as certainly dooming to death every English officer +upon whom they could fasten a quarrel. +</p> + +<p> +The Cafe Philidor, at that period in the Rue Vivienne, was the rendezvous of +this reputable faction, and here “le Capitaine” reigned supreme, +receiving accounts of the various “affairs” which were +transacting—counselling and plotting for the future. His ascendancy among +his countrymen was perfectly undisputed, and being possessed of great muscular +strength, with that peculiarly “farouche” exterior, without which +courage is nothing in France, he was in every way calculated for the infamous +leadership he assumed. +</p> + +<p> +It was, unfortunately, to this same cafe, being situated in what was called the +English quarter, that the officers of the 43rd regiment were in the habit of +resorting, totally unaware of the plots by which they were surrounded, and +quite unsuspecting the tangled web of deliberate and cold-blooded assassination +in which they were involved, and here took place the quarrel, the result of +which was the death of Trevanion’s friend, a young officer of great +promise, and universally beloved in his regiment. +</p> + +<p> +As Trevanion listened to these accounts, his impatience became daily greater, +that his weak state should prevent his being among his brother officers, when +his advice and assistance were so imperatively required, and where, amid all +the solicitude for his perfect recovery, he could not but perceive they +ardently wished for him. +</p> + +<p> +The day at last arrived, and restored to something like his former self, +Trevanion once more appeared in the mess-room of his regiment. Amid the many +sincere and hearty congratulations on his recovered looks, were not a few +half-expressed hints that he might not go much out into the world for some +little time to come. To these friendly admonitions Trevanion replied by a +good-humoured laugh, and a ready assurance that he understood the intended +kindness, and felt in no wise disposed to be invalided again. “In +fact,” said he, “I have come up here to enjoy life a little, not to +risque it; but, among the sights of your gay capital, I must certainly have a +peep at your famed captain, of whom I have heard too much not to feel an +interest in him.” +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding the many objections to this, made with a view to delay his +visit to the Philidor to a later period, it was at length agreed, that they +should all repair to the cafe that evening, but upon the express understanding +that every cause of quarrel should be strictly avoided, and that their stay +should be merely sufficient to satisfy Trevanion’s curiosity as to the +personnel of the renomme captain. +</p> + +<p> +It was rather before the usual hour of the cafe’s filling, that a number +of English officers, among whom was Trevanion, entered the “salon” +of the “Philidor;” having determined not to attract any unusual +attention, they broke into little knots and parties of threes and fours, and +dispersed through the room, where they either sipped their coffee or played at +dominoes, then, as now, the staple resource of a French cafe. +</p> + +<p> +The clock over the “comptoir” struck eight, and, at the same +instant, a waiter made his appearance, carrying a small table, which he placed +beside the fire, and, having trimmed a lamp, and placed a large fauteuil before +it, was about to withdraw, when Trevanion, whose curiosity was roused by the +singularity of these arrangements, determined upon asking for whose comfort +they were intended. The waiter stared for a moment at the question, with an air +as if doubting the seriousness of him who put it, and at last +replied—“Pour Monsieur le Capitaine, je crois,” with a +certain tone of significance upon the latter words. +</p> + +<p> +“Le Capitaine! but what captain?” said he, carelessly; “for I +am a captain, and that gentleman there—and there, too, is another,” +at the same instant throwing himself listlessly into the well-cushioned chair, +and stretching out his legs at full length upon the hearth. +</p> + +<p> +The look of horror which this quiet proceeding on his part, elicited from the +poor waiter, so astonished him that he could not help saying—“is +there any thing the matter with you, my friend; are you ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, not ill; nothing the matter with me; but you, sir; oh, +you, sir, pray come away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me,” said Trevanion; “me! why, my good man, I was never +better in my life; so now just bring me my coffee and the Moniteur, if you have +it; there, don’t stare that way, but do as I bid you.” +</p> + +<p> +There was something in the assured tone of these few words that either overawed +or repressed every rising feeling of the waiter, for his interrogator; for, +silently handing his coffee and the newspaper, he left the room; not, however, +without bestowing a parting glance so full of terror and dismay that our friend +was obliged to smile at it. All this was the work of a few minutes, and not +until the noise of new arrivals had attracted the attention of his brother +officers, did they perceive where he had installed himself, and to what danger +he was thus, as they supposed, unwittingly exposed. +</p> + +<p> +It was now, however, too late for remonstrance; for already several French +officers had noticed the circumstance, and by their interchange of looks and +signs, openly evinced their satisfaction at it, and their delight at the +catastrophe which seemed inevitable to the luckless Englishman. +</p> + +<p> +In perfect misery at what they conceived their own fault, in not apprising him +of the sacred character of that place, they stood silently looking at him as he +continued to sip his coffee, apparently unconscious of every thing and person +about him. +</p> + +<p> +There was now a more than ordinary silence in the cafe, which at all times was +remarkable for the quiet and noiseless demeanour of its frequenters, when the +door was flung open by the ready waiter, and the Capitaine Augustin Gendemar +entered. He was a large, squarely-built man, with a most savage expression of +countenance, which a bushy beard and shaggy overhanging moustache served +successfully to assist; his eyes were shaded by deep, projecting brows, and +long eyebrows slanting over them, and increasing their look of piercing +sharpness; there was in his whole air and demeanour that certain French air of +swaggering bullyism, which ever remained in those who, having risen from the +ranks, maintained the look of ruffianly defiance which gave their early +character for courage peculiar merit. +</p> + +<p> +To the friendly salutations of his countrymen he returned the slightest and +coldest acknowledgments, throwing a glance of disdain around him as he wended +his way to his accustomed place beside the fire; this he did with as much of +noise and swagger as he could well contrive; his sabre and sabretasch clanking +behind, his spurs jangling, and his heavy step, made purposely heavier to draw +upon him the notice and attention he sought for. Trevanion alone testified no +consciousness of his entrance, and appeared totally engrossed by the columns of +his newspaper, from which he never lifted his eyes for an instant. Le Capitaine +at length reached the fire-place, when, no sooner did he behold his accustomed +seat in the possession of another, than he absolutely started back with +surprise and anger. +</p> + +<p> +What might have been his first impulse it is hard to say, for, as the blood +rushed to his face and forehead, he clenched his hands firmly, and seemed for +an instant, as he eyed the stranger, like a tiger about to spring upon its +victim; this was but for a second, for turning rapidly round towards his party, +he gave them a look of peculiar meaning, showing two rows of white teeth, with +a grin which seemed to say, “I have taken my line;” and he had done +so. He now ordered the waiter, in a voice of thunder, to bring him a chair, +this he took roughly from him, and placed, with a crash, upon the floor, +exactly opposite that of Trevanion, and still so near as scarcely to permit of +his sitting down upon it. The noisy vehemence of this action at last appeared +to have roused Trevanion’s attention, for he now, for the first time, +looked up from his paper, and quietly regarded his vis-a-vis. There could not +in the world be a stronger contrast to the bland look and courteous expression +of Trevanion’s handsome features, than the savage scowl of the enraged +Frenchman, in whose features the strong and ill-repressed workings of passion +were twitching and distorting every lineament and line; indeed no words could +ever convey one half so forcibly as did that look, insult—open, palpable, +deep, determined insult. +</p> + +<p> +Trevanion, whose eyes had been merely for a moment lifted from his paper, again +fell, and he appeared to take no notice whatever of the extraordinary proximity +of the Frenchman, still less of the savage and insulting character of his +looks. +</p> + +<p> +Le Capitaine, having thus failed to bring on the eclaircissement he sought for, +proceeded to accomplish it by other means; for, taking the lamp, by the light +of which Trevanion was still reading, he placed it at his side of the table, +and at the same instant stretching across his arm, he plucked the newspaper +from his hand, giving at the same moment a glance of triumph towards the +bystanders, as though he would say, “you see what he must submit +to.” Words cannot describe the astonishment of the British officers, as +they beheld Trevanion, under this gross and open insult, content himself by a +slight smile and half bow, as if returning a courtesy, and then throw his eyes +downward, as if engaged in deep thought, while the triumphant sneer of the +French, at this unaccountable conduct, was absolutely maddening to them to +endure. +</p> + +<p> +But their patience was destined to submit to stronger proof, for at this +instant le Capitaine stretched forth one enormous leg, cased in his massive +jack-boot, and with a crash deposited the heel upon the foot of their friend +Trevanion. At length he is roused, thought they, for a slight flush of crimson +flitted across his cheek, and his upper lip trembled with a quick spasmodic +twitching; but both these signs were over in a second, and his features were as +calm and unmoved as before, and his only appearance of consciousness of the +affront, was given by his drawing back his chair and placing his legs beneath +it, as for protection. +</p> + +<p> +This last insult, and the tame forbearance with which it was submitted to, +produced all their opposite effects upon the by-standers, and looks of +ungovernable rage and derisive contempt were every moment interchanging; +indeed, were it not for the all-absorbing interest which the two great actors +in the scene had concentrated upon themselves, the two parties must have come +at once into open conflict. +</p> + +<p> +The clock of the cafe struck nine, the hour at which Gendemar always retired, +so calling to the waiter for his petit verre of brandy, he placed his newspaper +upon the table, and putting both his elbows upon it, and his chin upon his +hands, he stared full in Trevanion’s face, with a look of the most +derisive triumph, meant to crown the achievement of the evening. To this, as to +all his former insults, Trevanion appeared still insensible, and merely +regarded him with his never—changing half smile; the petite verre +arrived; le Capitaine took it in his hand, and, with a nod of most insulting +familiarity, saluted Trevanion, adding with a loud voice, so as to be heard on +every side—“a votre courage, Anglais.” He had scarcely +swallowed the liqueur when Trevanion rose slowly from his chair, displaying to +the astonished gaze of the Frenchman the immense proportions and gigantic frame +of a man well known as the largest officer in the British army; with one stride +he was beside the chair of the Frenchman, and with the speed of lightening he +seized his nose by one hand, while with the other he grasped his lower jaw, +and, wrenching open his mouth with the strength of an ogre, he spat down his +throat. +</p> + +<p> +So sudden was the movement, that before ten seconds had elapsed, all was over, +and the Frenchman rushed from the room, holding the fragments of his jaw-bone, +(for it was fractured!) And followed by his countrymen, who, from that hour, +deserted the Cafe Philidor, nor was there ever any mention of the famous +captain during the stay of the regiment in Paris. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch31" id="ch31"></a> CHAPTER XXXI.<br/> +DIFFICULTIES.</h2> + +<p> +While we walked together towards Meurice, I explained to Trevanion the position +in which I stood; and having detailed, at full length, the fracas at the Salon, +and the imprisonment of O’Leary, entreated his assistance in behalf of +him, as well as to free me from some of my many embarrassments. +</p> + +<p> +It was strange enough—though at first so pre-occupied was I with other +thoughts, that I paid but little attention to it—that no part of my +eventful evening seemed to make so strong an impression on him as my mention of +having seen my cousin Guy, and heard from him of the death of my uncle. At this +portion of my story he smiled, with so much significance of meaning, that I +could not help asking his reason. +</p> + +<p> +“It is always an unpleasant task, Mr. Lorrequer, to speak in any way, +however delicately, in a tone of disparagement of a man’s relatives; and, +therefore, as we are not long enough acquainted—” +</p> + +<p> +“But pray,” said I, “waive that consideration, and only +remember the position in which I now am. If you know any thing of this +business, I entreat you to tell me—I promise to take whatever you may be +disposed to communicate, in the same good part it is intended.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I believe you are right; but, first, let me ask you, how do +you know of your uncle’s death; for I have reason to doubt it?” +</p> + +<p> +“From Guy; he told me himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“When did you see him, and where?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I have just told you; I saw him last night at the Salon.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you could not be mistaken?” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible! Besides, he wrote to me a note which I received this +morning—here it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hem—ha. Well, are you satisfied that this is his +handwriting?” said Trevanion, as he perused the note slowly twice over. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course—but stop—you are right; it is not his hand, +nor do I know the writing, now that you direct my attention to it. But what can +that mean? You, surely, do not suppose that I have mistaken any one for him; +for, independent of all else, his knowledge of my family, and my uncle’s +affairs, would quite disprove that.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is really a complex affair,” said Trevanion, musingly. +“How long may it be since you saw your cousin—before last night, I +mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Several years; above six, certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is quite possible, then,” said Trevanion, musingly; +“do you know, Mr. Lorrequer, this affair seems much more puzzling to me +than to you, and for this plain reason—I am disposed to think you never +saw your cousin last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, confound it, there is one circumstance that I think may satisfy you +on that head. You will not deny that I saw some one, who very much resembled +him; and certainly, as he lent me above three thousand franks to play with at +the table, it looks rather more like his act than that of a perfect +stranger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got the money?” asked Trevanion dryly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said I; “but certainly you are the most unbelieving of +mortals, and I am quite happy that I have yet in my possession two of the +billets de banque, for, I suppose, without them, you would scarcely credit +me.” I here opened my pocket-book, and produced the notes. +</p> + +<p> +He took them, examined them attentively for an instant, held them between him +and the light, refolded them, and, having placed them in my pocket-book, +said—“I thought as much—they are forgeries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold!” said I, “my cousin Guy, whatever wildness he may have +committed, is yet totally incapable of—” +</p> + +<p> +“I never said the contrary, replied Trevanion, in the same dry tone as +before. +</p> + +<p> +“Then what can you mean, for I see no alternative between that and +totally discrediting the evidence of my senses?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I can suggest a middle course,” said Trevanion; +“lend me, therefore, a patient hearing for a few moments, and I may be +able to throw some light upon this difficult matter. You may never have heard +that there is, in this same city of Paris, a person so extremely like your +cousin Guy, that his most intimate friends have daily mistaken one for the +other, and this mistake has the more often been made, from the circumstances of +their both being in the habit of frequenting the same class in society, where, +knowing and walking with the same people, the difficulty of discriminating has +been greatly increased. This individual, who has too many aliases for one to +know which to particularise him by, is one of that numerous order of beings +whom a high state of civilization is always engendering and throwing up on the +surface of society; he is a man of low birth and mean connexions, but gifted +with most taking manners and an unexceptionable address and appearance; these +advantages, and the possession of apparently independent means, have opened to +him the access to a certain set of people, who are well known and well received +in society, and obtained for him, what he prizes much more, the admission into +several clubs where high play is carried on. In this mixed assemblage, which +sporting habits and gambling, (that grand leveller of all distinctions,) have +brought together, this man and your cousin Guy met frequently, and, from the +constant allusion to the wonderful resemblance between them, your eccentric +cousin, who, I must say, was never too select in his acquaintances, frequently +amused himself by practical jokes upon their friends, which served still more +to nurture the intimacy between them; and from this habit, Mr. Dudley Morewood, +for such is his latest patronymic, must have enjoyed frequent opportunities of +hearing much of your family and relations, a species of information he never +neglected, though at the moment it might appear not so immediately applicable +to his purposes. Now, this man, who knows of every new English arrival in +Paris, with as much certainty as the police itself, would at once be aware of +your being here, and having learned from Guy how little intercourse there had +been of late years between you, would not let slip an opportunity of availing +himself of the likeness, if any thing could thereby turn to his profit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop,” cried I; “you have opened my eyes completely, for now +I remember that, as I continued to win last night, this man, who was playing +hazard at another table, constantly borrowed from me, but always in gold, +invariably refusing the billets de banque as too high for his game.” +</p> + +<p> +“There his object was clear enough; for besides obtaining your gold, he +made you the means of disseminating his false billets de banque.” +</p> + +<p> +“So that I have been actually playing and winning upon this +fellow’s forgeries,” said I; “and am perhaps at this very +instant inscribed in the ‘Livre noir’ of the police, as a most +accomplished swindler; but what could be the intention of his note of this +morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“As to that,” said Trevanion, “it is hard to say; one thing +you may assuredly rely upon—it is not an unnecessary epistle, whatever be +its object; he never wastes his powder when the game flies too high; so we must +only wait patiently for the unravelment of his plans, satisfied that we, at +least, know something. What most surprises me is, his venturing, at present, to +appear in public; for it is not above two months since an escapade of his +attracted so much attention of the play world here, that he was obliged to +leave, and it was supposed that he would never return to Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“One piece of good fortune there is at least,” said I, +“which, I can safely say repays me for any and all the annoyance this +unhappy affair may cause me; it is, that my poor old uncle is still alive and +well. Not all my anticipated pleasures, in newly acquired wealth, could have +afforded me the same gratification that this fact does, for, although never so +much his favourite as my cousin, yet the sense of protection—the feeling +of confidence, which is inseparable from the degree of relationship between +us—standing, as he has ever done, in the light of a father to me, is +infinitely more pleasurable than the possession of riches, which must ever +suggest to me, the recollection of a kind friend lost to me for ever. But so +many thoughts press on me—so many effects of this affair are staring me +in the face—I really know not which way to turn, nor can I even collect +my ideas sufficiently, to determine what is first to be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave all that to me,” said Trevanion; “it is a tangled web, +but I think I can unravel it; meanwhile, where does the Militaire reside? for, +among all your pressing engagements, this affair with the Frenchman must come +off first; and for this reason, although you are not really obliged to give him +satisfaction, by his merely producing your card, and insisting that you are to +be responsible for the misdeeds of any one who might show it as his own +address, yet I look upon it as a most fortunate thing, while charges so heavy +may be at this moment hanging over your head, as the proceedings of last night +involve, that you have a public opportunity of meeting an antagonist in the +field—thereby evincing no fear of publicity, nor any intention of +absconding; for be assured, that the police are at this moment in possession of +what has occurred, and from the fracas which followed, are well disposed to +regard the whole as a concerted scheme to seize upon the property of the +banque, a not uncommon wind-up here after luck fails. My advice is therefore, +meet the man at once; I shall take care that the prefect is informed that you +have been imposed upon by a person passing himself off as your relative, and +enter bail for your appearance, whenever you are called upon; that being done, +we shall have time for a moment’s respite to look around us, and consider +the other bearings of this difficult business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, then, is the card of address,” said I; “Eugene +Dejoncourt Capitaine de Cavalerie, No. 8, Chausse D’Antin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dejoncourt! why, confound it, this is not so pleasant; he is about the +best shot in Paris, and a very steady swordsman besides, I don’t like +this.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you forget he is the friend, not the principal here.” +</p> + +<p> +“The more good fortune yours,” said Trevanion, drily; “for I +acknowledge I should not give much for your chance at twenty paces opposite his +pistol; then who is the other?” +</p> + +<p> +“Le Baron d’Haulpenne,” said I, “and his name is all +that I know of him; his very appearance is unknown to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I am acquainted with him,” said Trevanion; “but +here we are at Meurice. Now I shall just write a few lines to a legal friend, +who will manage to liberate Mr. O’Leary, whose services we shall need, +two persons are usual on each side in this country, and then, ‘a +l’ouvrage.’” +</p> + +<p> +The note written and despatched; Trevanion jumped into a cab, and set out for +the Chausse D’Antin; leaving me to think over, as well as I could, the +mass of trouble and confusion that twenty-four hours of life in Paris had +involved me in. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch32" id="ch32"></a> CHAPTER XXXII.<br/> +EXPLANATION.</h2> + +<p> +It was past seven o’clock when Trevanion made his appearance, accompanied +by O’Leary; and having in few words informed me that a meeting was fixed +for the following morning, near St. Cloud, proposed that we should go to dinner +at Verey’s, after which we should have plenty of time to discuss the +various steps to be taken. As we were leaving the hotel for this purpose, a +waiter requested of me to permit Mr. Meurice to speak a few words to me; which, +having agreed to, I entered the little bureau where this Czar of hotels sits +enthroned, and what was my surprise to learn the request he had to prefer, was +nothing less than that I would so far oblige him as to vacate the room I +possessed in the hotel, adding that my compliance would confer upon him the +power to accommodate a “milor” who had written for apartments, and +was coming with a large suite of servants. Suspecting that some rumour of the +late affair at Frescati might have influenced my friend Meurice in this unusual +demand, I abruptly refused, and was about to turn away, when he, perhaps +guessing that I had not believed his statements, handed me an open letter, +saying, “You see, sir, this is the letter; and, as I am so pressed for +spare room, I must now refuse the writer.” +</p> + +<p> +As my eye glanced at the writing, I started back with amazement to perceive it +was in my cousin Guy’s hand, requesting that apartments might be retained +for Sir Guy Lorrequer, my uncle, who was to arrive in Paris by the end of the +week. If any doubt had remained on my mind as to the deception I had been duped +by, this would completely have dispelled it, but I had long before been +convinced of the trick, and only wondered how the false Guy—Mr. Dudley +Morewood—had contrived to present himself to me so opportunely, and by +what means, in so short a space of time, he had become acquainted with my +personal appearance. +</p> + +<p> +As I mentioned this circumstance of the letter to Trevanion, he could not +conceal his satisfaction at his sagacity in unravelling the mystery, while this +new intelligence confirmed the justness and accuracy of all his explanations. +</p> + +<p> +While we walked along towards the Palais Royale, Trevanion endeavoured not very +successfully, to explain to my friend O’Leary, the nature of the trick +which had been practised, promising, at another time, some revelations +concerning the accomplished individual who had planned it, which, in boldness +and daring, eclipsed even this. +</p> + +<p> +Any one who in waking has had the confused memory of a dream in which events +have been so mingled and mixed as to present no uniform narrative, but only a +mass of strange and incongruous occurrences, without object or connexion, may +form some notion of the state of restless excitement my brain suffered from, as +the many and conflicting ideas my late adventures suggested, presented +themselves to my mind in rapid succession. +</p> + +<p> +The glare, the noise, and the clatter of a French cafe are certainly not the +agents most in request for restoring a man to the enjoyment of his erring +faculties; and, if I felt addled and confused before, I had scarcely passed the +threshold of Verey’s when I became absolutely like one in a trance. The +large salon was more than usually crowded, and it was with difficulty that we +obtained a place at a table where some other English were seated, among whom I +recognised my lately made acquaintance, Mr. Edward Bingham. +</p> + +<p> +Excepting a cup of coffee I had taken nothing the entire day, and so completely +did my anxieties of different kinds subdue all appetite, that the most +recherche viands of this well-known restaurant did not in the least tempt me. +The champagne alone had any attraction for me; and, seduced by the icy coldness +of the wine, I drank copiously. This was all that was wanting to complete the +maddening confusion of my brain, and the effect was instantaneous; the lights +danced before my eyes; the lustres whirled round; and, as the scattered +fragments of conversations, on either side met my ear, I was able to form some +not very inaccurate conception of what insanity may be. Politics and +literature, Mexican bonds and Noblet’s legs, Pates de perdreaux and the +quarantine laws, the extreme gauche and the “Bains Chinois,” Victor +Hugo and rouge et noir, had formed a species of grand ballet d’action in +my fevered brain, and I was perfectly beside myself; occasionally, too, I would +revert to my own concerns, although I was scarcely able to follow up any train +of thought for more than a few seconds together, and totally inadequate to +distinguish the false from the true. I continued to confound the counterfeit +with my cousin, and wonder how my poor uncle, for whom I was about to put on +the deepest mourning, could possibly think of driving me out of my lodgings. Of +my duel for the morning, I had the most shadowy recollection, and could not +perfectly comprehend whether it was O’Leary or I was the principal, and +indeed cared but little. In this happy state of independent existence I must +have passed a considerable time, and as my total silence when spoken to, or my +irrelevant answers, appeared to have tired out my companions, they left me to +the uninterrupted enjoyment of my own pleasant imaginings. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear, Lorrequer,” at last said Trevanion; “are you +asleep, my dear friend? This gentleman has been good enough to invite us to +breakfast to-morrow at St. Cloud.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked up, and was just able to recognise the well-trimmed moustache of Mr. +Edward Bingham, as he stood mumbling something before me. “St. +Cloud—what of St. Cloud?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“We have something in that quarter to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, O’Leary? Can we go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! certainly—our engagement’s an early one.” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall accept your polite invitation with pleasure”— +</p> + +<p> +Here he stooped over, and whispered something in my ear; what, I cannot say, +but I know that my reply, now equally lost to me, produced a hearty fit of +laughing to my two friends. +</p> + +<p> +My next recollection is, finding myself in a crowded loge at the theatre. It +seems that O’Leary had acceded to a proposal from some of the other party +to accompany them to the Porte St. Martin, where Mrs. Bingham and her daughter +had engaged a box. Amid all the confusion which troubled thoughts and wine +produced in me, I could not help perceiving a studied politeness and attention +on the part of Mr. Edward Bingham towards me; and my first sobering reflection +came, on finding that a place was reserved for me beside Miss Bingham, into +which, by some contrivance I can in no wise explain, I found myself almost +immediately installed. To all the excitements of champagne and punch, let the +attractions of a French ballet be added, and, with a singularly pretty +companion at your side, to whom you have already made sufficient advances to be +aware that you are no longer indifferent to her, and I venture to predict, that +it is much more likely your conversation will incline to flirting than +political economy; and, moreover, that you make more progress during the +performance of one single pas de deux upon the stage, than you have hitherto +done in ten morning calls, with an unexceptionable whisker and the best fitting +gloves in Paris. Alas! alas! it is only the rich man that ever wins at rouge et +noir. The well-insured Indiaman, with her cargo of millions, comes safe into +port; while the whole venture of some hardy veteran of the wave, founders +within sight of his native shore. So is it ever; where success would be all and +every thing, it never comes—but only be indifferent or regardless, and +fortune is at your feet, suing and imploring your acceptance of her favours. +What would I not have given for one half of that solicitude now so kindly +expressed in my favour by Miss Bingham, if syllabled by the lips of Lady Jane +Callonby—how would my heart have throbbed for one light smile from one, +while I ungratefully basked in the openly avowed preference of the other. These +were my first thoughts—what were the succeeding ones? +</p> + +<p> +“Comment elle est belle,” said a Frenchwoman, turning round in the +box next to us, and directing at the same moment the eyes of a moustached hero +upon my fair companion. +</p> + +<p> +What a turn to my thoughts did this unexpected ejaculation give rise to! I now +began to consider her more attentively, and certainly concurred fully in the +Frenchwoman’s verdict. I had never seen her look half so well before. The +great fault in her features, which were most classically regular, lay in the +monotony and uniform character of their expression. Now this was quite changed. +Her cheek was slightly flushed, and her eyes more brilliant than ever; while +her slightly parted lips gave a degree of speaking earnestness to her +expression, that made her perfectly beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +Whether it was from this cause I cannot say, but I certainly never felt so +suddenly decided in my life from one course to its very opposite, as I now did +to make l’aimable to my lovely companion. And here, I fear, I must +acknowledge, in the honesty of these confessional details, that vanity had also +its share in the decision. To be the admitted and preferred suitor of the +prettiest woman in company, is generally a strong inducement to fall +desperately in love with her, independently of other temptations for so doing. +</p> + +<p> +How far my successes tallied with my good intentions in this respect, I cannot +now say. I only remember, that more than once O’Leary whispered to me +something like a caution of some sort or other; but Emily’s encouraging +smiles and still more encouraging speeches had far more effect upon me than all +the eloquence of the united service, had it been engaged in my behalf, would +have effected. Mrs. Bingham, too—who, to do her justice, seemed but +little cognisant of our proceedings—from time to time evinced that +species of motherly satisfaction which very young men rejoice much in, and +older ones are considerably alarmed at. +</p> + +<p> +The play over O’Leary charged himself with the protection of madam, while +I enveloped Emily in her cachmere, and drew her arm within my own. What my hand +had to do with her’s I know not; it remains one of the unexplained +difficulties of that eventful evening. I have, it is true, a hazy recollection +of pressing some very taper and delicately formed finger—and remember, +too, the pain I felt next morning on awaking, by the pressure of a too tight +ring, which had, by some strange accident, found its way to my finger, for +which its size was but ill adapted. +</p> + +<p> +“You will join us at supper, I hope,” said Mrs. Bingham, as +Trevanion handed her to her carriage. “Mr. Lorrequer, Mr. O’Leary, +we shall expect you.” +</p> + +<p> +I was about to promise to do so, when Trevanion, suddenly interrupted me, +saying that he had already accepted an invitation, which would, unfortunately, +prevent us; and having hastily wished the ladies good night, hurried me away so +abruptly, that I had not a moment given for even one parting look at the fair +Emily. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Trevanion,” said I, “what invitation are you dreaming +of? I, for one, should have been delighted to have gone home with the +Binghams.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I perceived,” said Trevanion, gravely; “and it was for +that precise reason I so firmly refused what, individually, I should have been +most happy to accept.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, pray, have the goodness to explain.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is easily done. You have already, in recounting your manifold +embarrassments, told me enough of these people, to let me see that they intend +you should marry among them; and, indeed, you have gone quite far enough to +encourage such an expectation. Your present excited state has led you +sufficiently far this evening, and I could not answer for your not proposing in +all form before the supper was over; therefore, I had no other course open to +me than positively to refuse Mrs. Bingham’s invitation. But here we are +now at the ‘Cadran rouge;’ we shall have our lobster and a glass of +Moselle, and then to bed, for we must not forget that we are to be at St. Cloud +by seven.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! that is a good thought of yours about the lobster,” said +O’Leary; “and now, as you understand these matters, just order +supper, and let us enjoy ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +With all the accustomed despatch of a restaurant, a most appetizing petit +souper made its speedy appearance; and although now perfectly divested of the +high excitement which had hitherto possessed me, my spirits were excellent, and +I never more relished our good fare and good fellowship. +</p> + +<p> +After a full bumper to the health of the fair Emily had been proposed and +drained by all three, Trevanion again explained how much more serious +difficulty would result from any false step in that quarter than from all my +other scrapes collectively. +</p> + +<p> +This he represented so strongly, that for the first time I began to perceive +the train of ill consequences that must inevitably result, and promised most +faithfully to be guided by any counsel he might feel disposed to give me. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! what a pity,” said O’Leary, “it is not my case. +It’s very little trouble it would cost any one to break off a match for +me. I had always a most peculiar talent for those things. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said Trevanion. “Pray, may we know your secret? +for, perhaps, ere long we may have occasion for its employment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell it, by all means,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“If I do,” said O’Leary, “it will cost you a patient +hearing; for my experiences are connected with two episodes in my early life, +which, although not very amusing, are certainly instructive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! by all means, let us hear them,” said Trevanion; “for we +have yet two bottles of chambertin left, and must finish them ere we +part.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, agreed,” said O’Leary; “only, once for all, as +what I am about to confide is strictly confidential, you must promise never +even to allude to it hereafter in even the most remote manner, much less +indulge in any unseemly mirth at what I shall relate.” +</p> + +<p> +Having pledged ourselves to secrecy and a becoming seriousness, O’Leary +began his story as follows:— +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch33" id="ch33"></a> CHAPTER XXXIII.<br/> +MR. O’LEARY’S FIRST LOVE.</h2> + +<p> +“It was during the vice-royalty of the late Duke of Richmond that the +incidents I am about to mention took place. That was a few years since, and I +was rather younger, and a little more particular about my dress than at +present.” Here the little man cast an eye of stoical satisfaction upon +his uncouth habiliments, that nearly made us forget our compact, and laugh +outright. “Well, in those wild and headstrong days of youthful ardour, I +fell in love—desperately in love—and as always is, I believe, the +case with our early experiments in that unfortunate passion, the object of my +affection was in every way unsuited to me. She was a tall, dark-haired, +dark-eyed maiden, with a romantic imagination, and a kind of a half-crazed +poetic fervour, that often made me fear for her intellect. I’m a short, +rather fat—I was always given this way”—here he patted a +waistcoat that would fit Dame Lambert—“happy-minded little fellow, +that liked my supper of oysters at the Pigeon-house, and my other +creature-comforts, and hated every thing that excited or put one out of +one’s way, just as I would have hated a blister. Then, the devil would +have it—for as certainly as marriages are made in heaven, flirtations +have something to say to the other place—that I should fall most +irretrievably in love with Lady Agnes Moreton. Bless my soul, it absolutely +puts me in a perspiration this hot day, just to think over all I went through +on her account; for, strange to say, the more I appeared to prosper in her good +graces, the more did she exact on my part; the pursuit was like Jacob’s +ladder—if it did lead to heaven it was certainly an awfully long journey, +and very hard on one’s legs. There was not an amusement she could think +of, no matter how unsuited to my tastes or my abilities, that she did not +immediately take a violent fancy to; and then there was no escaping, and I was +at once obliged to go with the tide, and heaven knows if it would not have +carried me to my grave if it were not for the fortunate (I now call it) +accident that broke off the affair for ever. One time she took a fancy for +yachting, and all the danglers about her—and she always had a cordon of +them—young aides-de-camp of her father the general, and idle hussars, in +clanking sabertasches and most absurd mustachios—all approved of the +taste, and so kept filling her mind with anecdotes of corsairs and smugglers, +that at last nothing would satisfy her till I—I who always would rather +have waited for low water, and waded the Liffey in all its black mud, than +cross over in the ferry-boat, for fear of sickness—I was obliged to put +an advertisement in the newspaper for a pleasure-boat, and, before three weeks, +saw myself owner of a clinker-built schooner, of forty-eight tons, that by some +mockery of fortune was called ‘The Delight.’ I wish you saw me, as +you might have done every morning for about a month, as I stood on the +Custom-house quay, giving orders for the outfit of the little craft. At first, +as she bobbed and pitched with the flood-tide, I used to be a little giddy and +rather qualmish, but at last I learned to look on without my head reeling. I +began to fancy myself very much of a sailor, a delusion considerably encouraged +by a huge P. jacket and a sou’-wester, both of which, though it was in +the dog-days, Agnes insisted upon my wearing, saying I looked more like Dirk +Hatteraick, who, I understood, was one of her favourite heroes in Walter Scott. +In fact, after she suggested this, she and all her friends called me nothing +but Dirk. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at last, after heaven knows how many excuses on my part, and +entreaties for delay, a day was appointed for our first excursion. I shall +never forget that day—the entire night before it I did not close my eyes; +the skipper had told me in his confounded sea-jargon, that if the wind was in +one quarter we should have a short tossing sea; and if in another a long +rolling swell; and if in a third, a happy union of both—in fact, he made +it out that it could not possibly blow right, an opinion I most heartily +coincided in, and most devoutly did I pray for a calm, that would not permit of +our stirring from our moorings, and thus mar our projected party of pleasure. +My prayer was unheard, but my hopes rose on the other hand, for it blew +tremendously during the entire night, and although there was a lull towards +morning, the sea, even in the river, was considerable. +</p> + +<p> +“I had just come to the conclusion that I was safe for this time, when +the steward poked his head into the room and said, +</p> + +<p> +“‘Mr. Brail wishes to know, sir, if he’ll bend the new +mainsail to-day, as it’s blowing rather fresh, and he thinks the spars +light.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Why the devil take him, he would not have us go out in a +hurricane; surely, Pipes, we could not take out ladies to-day?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘O, bless your heart, yes, sir; it blows a bit to be sure, but +she’s a good sea-boat, and we can run for Arklow or the Hook, if it comes +fresher.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, nonsense, there’s no pleasure in that; besides +I’m sure they won’t like it—the ladies won’t venture, +you’ll see.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ay sir, but they’re all on board already: there’s +eight ladies in the cabin, and six on deck, and as many hampers of victuals and +as much crockery as if we were a-goin’ to Madeira. Captain Grantham, sir, +the soldier officer, with the big beard, is a mixing punch in the +grog-tub.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘From the consequences of this day I proclaim myself +innocent,’ said I with a solemn voice, as I drew on my duck trowsers, and +prepared to set out. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And the mainsail, sir,’ said the steward, not understanding +what I said. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I care not which,’ said I, doggedly; ‘act or part in +this wilful proceeding I’ll not take.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ay, ay, sir,’ said the stupid wretch, ‘then +I’ll say you’re coming, and he may stretch the large canvas; for +the skipper says he likes a wet jacket when he has gentlemen out.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Never did a victim put on a flame-coloured garment, the emblem of fate, +and set out on the march of death, with a heavier heart, than did I put on my +pilot-coat that morning to join my friends. +</p> + +<p> +“My last hope deserted me as I saw the little vessel lying beside the +quay; for I continued to trust that in getting out from the dock some accident +or mischance might occur to spoil our sport. But no; there she lay, rolling and +pitching in such a way that, even at anchor, they could not stand on the deck +without holding. Amid the torrent of compliments for the perfection of all my +arrangements, and innumerable sweet things on my taste in the decoration and +fitting up of my cabin, I scarcely felt myself afloat for some minutes, and we +got under weigh amid a noise and uproar that absolutely prevented the +possibility of thought. +</p> + +<p> +“Hitherto our destination had not been mentioned, and as all the party +appealed to Lady Agnes, I could not be less gallant, and joined them in their +request. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well then, what do you think of Lambay?’ said she, looking +at the same moment towards the skipper. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We can make it, my lady,’ said the man, ‘but +we’ll have a roughish sea of it, for there’s a strong point of +westward in the wind.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Then don’t think of it,’ said I. ‘We have come +out for pleasure, not to make our friends sick, or terrify them. It does very +well for us men.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘There you are, Dirk, with your insolent sneers about +women’s nerves and female cowardice. Now, nothing but Lambay will content +me—what say you, ladies?’ +</p> + +<p> +“A general reply of approval met this speech, and it was carried by +acclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Lambay then be it,’ said I, with the voice of a man, who, +entreating to be shot, is informed that he cannot be afforded that pleasure, as +his sentence is to be hanged. But I must hasten over these painful +recollections. We dropped down the river, and soon left the light-house and its +long pier behind us, the mast bending like a whip, and the sea boiling like +barm over the lee gunwale. Still the spirit of our party only rose the lighter, +and nothing but eulogies upon the men and sailing of the craft resounded on all +sides; the din and buz of the conversation went on only more loudly and less +restrictedly than if the party had been on shore, and all, even myself, seemed +happy, for up to this moment I had not been sea-sick, yet certain pleasant +sensations, that alternately evinced themselves in my stomach and my head, +warned me of what was in store for me. The word was now given to tack; I was in +the act of essaying a soft speech to Lady Agnes, when the confounded cry of +‘ready about, starboard there, let go sheets and tacks, stand by, +hawl.’ The vessel plunged head-foremost into the boiling sea, which +hissed on either bow; the heavy boom swung over, carrying my hat along with +it—and almost my head too. The rest of the party, possibly better +informed than myself, speedily changed their places to the opposite side of the +boat, while I remained holding off fast by the gunwale, till the sea rushing +over, what was now becoming the lee-side, carried me head over heels into the +shingle ballast in the waist. Lord, how they did laugh! Agnes, too, who never +before could get beyond a very faint smile, grew almost hysterical at my +performance. As for me, I only wanted this to complete my long threatened +misfortune; sea sickness in all its most miserable forms, set in upon me, and, +ere half an hour, I lay upon that heap of small stones, as indifferent to all +round and about me as though I were dead. Oh, the long, dreary hours of that +melancholy day; it seemed like a year. They tacked and tacked, they were beat +and tacked again, the sea washing over me, and the ruffianly sailors trampling +upon me without the slightest remorse, whenever they had any occasion to pass +back or forward. From my long trance of suffering I was partly roused by the +steward shaking my shoulder, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“‘The gentlemen wish to know, sir, if you’d like summat to +eat, as they’re a goin’ to have a morsel; we are getting into slack +water now.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Where are we?’ I replied, in a sepulchral voice. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Off the Hook, sir; we have had a most splendid run, but I fear +we’ll catch it soon; there’s some dirty weather to the +westward.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘God grant it,’ said I, piously and in a low tone. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Did you say you’d have a bit to eat. Sir?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘No!—eat!—am I a cannibal?—eat—go +away—mark me, my good fellow, I’ll pay you your wages, if ever we +get ashore; you’ll never set another foot aboard with me.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The man looked perfectly astounded as he moved away, and my thoughts +were soon engrossed by the proceedings near me. The rattle of knives, and the +jingling of plates and glasses went on very briskly for some time, accompanied +by various pleasant observations of my guests, for such I judged them, from the +mirth which ever followed them. At last I thought I heard my name, or at least +what they pleased to use as its substitute, mentioned; I strained my ears to +listen, and learnt that they were planning to talk over the pretended intention +to run for Cowes, and see the regatta. This they discussed then, for about +twenty minutes, in a very loud voice, purposely to see its effects upon me; but +as I was now aware of the trick, I gave no sign of any intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Poor Dirk,’ said Grantham; ‘I believe by this time he +cares very little which way her head lies; but here comes something better than +all our discussions. Lady Agnes, sit here—Miss Pelham, here’s a dry +cushion for you—did you say a wing, Lady Mary?’ +</p> + +<p> +“Now began the crash and clatter of dinner; champagne corks popping, +glasses ringing, and all that peculiar admixture of fracas and fun, which +accompanies a scrambled meal. How they did laugh, and eat, ay, and drink too. +G’s punch seemed to have its success, for sick as I was, I could perceive +the voices of the men grow gradually louder, and discovered that two gentlemen +who had been remarkably timid in the morning, and scarcely opened their lips, +were now rather uproariously given, and one even proposed to sing. +</p> + +<p> +“If any man, thought I, were to look for an instant at the little scene +now enacting here, what a moral might he reap from it; talk of the base +ingratitude of the world, you cannot say too much of it. Who would suppose that +it was my boat these people were assembled in; that it was my champagne these +people were drinking; that my venison and my pheasants were feeding those lips, +which rarely spoke, except to raise a jest at my expense. My chagrin increased +my sickness and my sickness redoubled my chagrin. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Mr. Brail,’ said I, in a low whisper, ‘Mr. +Brail.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Did you speak, sir?’ said he, with about as much surprise +in his manner, as though he had been addressed by a corpse. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Mr. Brail,’ said I, ‘is there any danger here?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Lord love you, no, sir, she’s walking Spanish, and the sea +going down; we shall have lovely weather, and they’re all enjoying it, +sir,—the ladies.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘So I perceive,’ said I, with a groan; ‘so I perceive; +but Mr. Brail, could you do nothing—just to—to startle them a +little, I mean for fun only? Just ship a heavy sea or two, I don’t care +for a little damage, Mr. Brail, and if it were to wash over the dinner-service, +and all the wine, I should not like it worse.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Why, sir, you are getting quite funny, the sickness is +going.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘No, Mr. Brail, worse than ever; my head is in two pieces, and my +stomach in the back of my mouth; but I should like you to do this—so just +manage it, will you, and there’s twenty pounds in my pocket-book, you can +have it; there now, won’t you oblige me, and hark ye, Mr. Brail—if +Captain Grantham were to be washed over by mere accident it cannot be helped; +accidents are always occurring in boating parties. Go now, you know what I +mean.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘But sir,’ began he. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well, then, Mr. Brail, you won’t—very well: now all I +have to say is this: that the moment I can find strength to do it, I’ll +stave out a plank; I’ll scuttle the vessel, that’s all; I have made +up my mind, and look to yourselves now.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Saying these words, I again threw myself upon the ballast, and, as the +gay chorus of a drinking song was wafted across me, prayed devoutly that we +might all go down to the bottom. The song over, I heard a harsh, gruff voice +mixing with the more civilized tones of the party, and soon perceived that Mr. +Brail was recounting my proposal amid the most uproarious shouts of laughter I +ever listened to. Then followed a number of pleasant suggestions for my future +management; one proposing to have me tried for mutiny, and sentenced to a +ducking over the side, another that I should be tarred on my back, to which +latter most humane notion, the fair Agnes subscribed, averring that she was +resolved upon my deserving my sobriquet of Dirk Hatteraick. My wrath was now +the master even of deadly sickness. I got upon my knees, and having in vain +tried to reach my legs, I struggled aft. In this posture did I reach the +quarter-deck. What my intention precisely was in this excursion, I have no +notion of now, but I have some very vague idea, that I meant to re-enact the +curse of Kehama upon the whole party. At last I mustered strength to rise; but +alas! I had scarcely reached the standing position, when a tremendous heel of +the boat to one side, threw me in the gunwale, and before I was able to recover +my balance, a second lurch pitched me headlong into the sea. I have, thank God, +no further recollection of my misfortunes. When I again became conscious, I +found myself wrapped up in a pilot-coat, while my clothes were drying: the +vessel was at anchor in Wexford. My attached friends had started for town with +post-horses, leaving me no less cured of love than aquatics. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The Delight’ passed over in a few days, to some more +favoured son of Neptune, and I hid my shame and my misfortunes by a +year’s tour on the continent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Although I acknowledge,” said Trevanion, “that hitherto I +have reaped no aid from Mr. O’Leary’s narrative, yet I think it is +not without a moral.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but,” said I, “he has got another adventure to tell +us; we have quite time for it, so pray pass the wine and let us have it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have just finished the burgundy,” said O’Leary, “and +if you will ring for another flask, I have no objection to let you hear the +story of my second love.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch34" id="ch34"></a> CHAPTER XXXIV.<br/> +MR. O’LEARY’S SECOND LOVE.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus16"></a> +<a href="images/fig16.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig16.jpg" width="451" height="600" alt="Illustration: Mr. +O’Leary Charges the Mob" /></a> +<p class="caption">Mr. O’Leary Charges the Mob</p> +</div> + +<p> +“You may easily suppose,” began Mr. O’Leary, “that the +unhappy termination of my first passion served as a shield to me for a long +time against my unfortunate tendencies towards the fair; and such was really +the case. I never spoke to a young lady for three years after, without a +reeling in my head, so associated in my mind was love and sea-sickness. +However, at last what will not time do. It was about four years from the date +of this adventure, when I became so, from oblivion of my former failure, as +again to tempt my fortune. My present choice, in every way unlike the last, was +a gay, lively girl, of great animal spirits, and a considerable turn for +raillery, that spared no one; the members of her own family were not even +sacred in her eyes; and her father, a reverend dean, as frequently figured +among the ludicrous as his neighbours. +</p> + +<p> +“The Evershams had been very old friends of a rich aunt of mine, who +never, by the by, had condescended to notice me till I made their acquaintance; +but no sooner had I done so, than she sent for me, and gave me to understand +that in the event of my succeeding to the hand of Fanny Eversham, I should be +her heir, and the possessor of about sixty thousand pounds. She did not stop +here; but by canvassing the dean in my favour, speedily put the matter on a +most favourable footing, and in less than two months I was received as the +accepted suitor of the fair Fanny, then one of the reigning belles of Dublin. +</p> + +<p> +“They lived at this time about three miles from town, in a very pretty +country, where I used to pass all my mornings, and many of my evenings too, in +a state of happiness that I should have considered perfect, if it were not for +two unhappy blots—one, the taste of my betrothed for laughing at her +friends; another the diabolical propensity to talk politics of my intended +father-in-law—to the former I could submit; but with the latter, +submission only made bad worse; for he invariably drew up as I receded, drily +observing that with men who had no avowed opinions, it was ill agreeing; or +that, with persons who kept their politics as a school-boy does his +pocket-money, never to spend, and always ready to change, it was unpleasant to +dispute. Such taunts as these I submitted to as well as I might; secretly +resolving, that as I now knew the meaning of whig and tory, I’d contrive +to spend my life, after marriage, out of the worthy dean’s diocese. +</p> + +<p> +“Time wore on, and at length, to my most pressing solicitations, it was +conceded that a day for our marriage should be appointed. Not even the unlucky +termination of this my second love affair can deprive me of the happy souvenir +of the few weeks which were to intervene before our destined union. +</p> + +<p> +“The mornings were passed in ransacking all the shops where wedding +finery could be procured—laces, blondes, velvets, and satins, littered +every corner of the deanery—and there was scarcely a carriage in a +coach-maker’s yard in the city that I had not sat and jumped in, to try +the springs, by the special directions of Mrs. Eversham; who never ceased to +impress me with the awful responsibility I was about to take upon me, in +marrying so great a prize as her daughter—a feeling I found very general +among many of my friends at the Kildare-street club. +</p> + +<p> +“Among the many indispensable purchases which I was to make, and about +which Fanny expressed herself more than commonly anxious, was a saddle-horse +for me. She was a great horsewoman, and hated riding with only a servant; and +had given me to understand as much about half-a-dozen times each day for the +last five weeks. How shall I acknowledge it—equestrianism was never my +forte. I had all my life considerable respect for the horse as an animal, +pretty much as I dreaded a lion or a tiger; but as to my intention of mounting +upon the back of one, and taking a ride, I should as soon have dreamed of +taking an airing upon a giraffe; and as to the thought of buying, feeding, and +maintaining such a beast at my own proper cost, I should just as soon have +determined to purchase a pillory or a ducking-stool, by way of amusing my +leisure hours. +</p> + +<p> +“However, Fanny was obstinate—whether she suspected any thing or +not I cannot say—but nothing seemed to turn her from her purpose; and +although I pleaded a thousand things in delay, yet she each day grew more +impatient, and at last I saw that there was nothing for it but to submit. +</p> + +<p> +“When I arrived at this last and bold resolve, I could not help feeling +that to possess a horse and not be able to mount him, was only deferring the +ridicule; and as I had so often expressed the difficulty I felt in suiting +myself as a cause of my delay, I could not possibly come forward with any thing +very objectionable, or I should be only the more laughed at. There was then but +one course to take; a fortnight still intervened before the day which was to +make me happy, and I accordingly resolved to take lessons in riding during the +intervals, and by every endeavour in my power become, if possible, able to pass +muster on the saddle before my bride. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old Lalouette understood but little of the urgency of the case, +when I requested his leave to take my lessons each morning at six +o’clock, for I dared not absent myself during the day without exciting +suspicion; and never, I will venture to assert, did knight-errant of old strive +harder for the hand of his lady-love than did I during that weary fortnight, if +a hippogriff had been the animal I bestrode, instead of being, as it was, an +old wall-eyed grey, I could not have felt more misgivings at my temerity, or +more proud of my achievement. In the first three days the unaccustomed exercise +proved so severe, that when I reached the deanery I could hardly move, and +crossed the floor, pretty much as a pair of compasses might be supposed to do +if performing that exploit. Nothing, however, could equal the kindness of my +poor dear mother-in-law in embryo, and even the dean too. Fanny, indeed, said +nothing; but I rather think she was disposed to giggle a little; but my +rheumatism, as it was called, was daily inquired after, and I was compelled to +take some infernal stuff in my port wine at dinner that nearly made me sick at +table. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I am sure you walk too much,’ said Fanny, with one of her +knowing looks. ‘Papa, don’t you think he ought to ride; it would be +much better for him.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I do, my dear,’ said the dean. ‘But then you see he +is so hard to be pleased in a horse. Your old hunting days have spoiled you; +but you must forget Melton and Grantham, and condescend to keep a hack.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I must have looked confoundedly foolish here, for Fanny never took her +eyes off me, and continued to laugh in her own wicked way. +</p> + +<p> +“It was now about the ninth or tenth day of my purgatorial performances; +and certainly if there be any merit in fleshly mortifications, these religious +exercises of mine should stand my part hereafter. A review had been announced +in the Phœnix-park, which Fanny had expressed herself most desirous to +witness; and as the dean would not permit her to go without a chaperon, I had +no means of escape, and promised to escort her. No sooner had I made this rash +pledge, than I hastened to my confidential friend, Lalouette, and having +imparted to him my entire secret, asked him in a solemn and imposing manner, +‘Can I do it?’ The old man shook his head dubiously, looked grave, +and muttered at length, ‘Mosch depend on de horse.’ ‘I know +it—I know it—I feel it,’ said I eagerly—‘then +where are we to find an animal that will carry me peaceably through this awful +day—I care not for his price?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Votre affaire ne sera pas trop chere,’ said he. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Why. How do you mean?’ said I. +</p> + +<p> +“He then proceeded to inform me, that by a singularly fortunate chance, +there took place that day an auction of ‘cast horses,’ as they are +termed, which had been used in the horse police force; and that from long +riding, and training to stand fire, nothing could be more suitable than one of +these; being both easy to ride, and not given to start at noise. +</p> + +<p> +“I could have almost hugged the old fellow for his happy suggestion, and +waited with impatience for three o’clock to come, when we repaired +together to Essex-bridge, at that time the place selected for these sales. +</p> + +<p> +“I was at first a little shocked at the look of the animals drawn up; +they were most miserably thin—most of them swelled in the legs—few +without sore backs—and not one eye, on an average, in every three; but +still they were all high steppers, and carried a great tail. +‘There’s your affaire,’ said the old Frenchman, as a +long-legged fiddle-headed beast was led out; turning out his forelegs so as to +endanger the man who walked beside him. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes, there’s blood for you, said Charley Dycer, seeing my +eye fixed on the wretched beast; ‘equal to fifteen stone with any +foxhounds; safe in all his paces, and warranted sound; except,’ added he, +in a whisper, ‘a slight spavin in both hind legs, ring gone, and a little +touched in the wind.’ Here the animal gave an approving cough. +‘Will any gentleman say fifty pounds to begin?’ But no gentleman +did. A hackney coachman, however, said five, and the sale was opened; the beast +trotting up and down nearly over the bidders at every moment, and plunging on +so that it was impossible to know what was doing. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Five, ten—fifteen—six pounds—thank you, +sir,—guineas’—‘seven pounds,’ said I, bidding +against myself, not perceiving that I had spoken last. ‘Thank you, Mr. +Moriarty,’ said Dycer, turning towards an invisible purchaser supposed to +be in the crowd. ‘Thank you, sir, you’ll not let a good one go that +way.’ Every one here turned to find out the very knowing gentleman; but +he could no where be seen. +</p> + +<p> +“Dycer resumed, ‘Seven ten for Mr. Moriarty. Going for seven +ten—a cruel sacrifice—there’s action for you—playful +beast.’ Here the devil had stumbled and nearly killed a basket-woman with +two children. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Eight,’ said I, with a loud voice. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Eight pounds, quite absurd,’ said Dycer, almost rudely; +‘a charger like that for eight pounds—going for eight +pounds—going—nothing above eight pounds—no reserve, +gentlemen, you are aware of that. They are all as it were, his majesty’s +stud—no reserve whatever—last time, eight pounds—gone.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Amid a very hearty cheer from the mob—God knows why—but a +Dublin mob always cheer—I returned, accompanied by a ragged fellow, +leading my new purchase after me with a bay halter. ‘What is the meaning +of those letters,’ said I, pointing to a very conspicuous G.R. with +sundry other enigmatical signs, burned upon the animal’s hind quarter. +</p> + +<p> +“‘That’s to show he was a po-lice,’ said the fellow +with a grin; ‘and whin ye ride with ladies, ye must turn the decoy +side.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The auspicious morning at last arrived; and strange to say that the +first waking thought was of the unlucky day that ushered in my yachting +excursion, four years before. Why this was so, I cannot pretend to guess; there +was but little analogy in the circumstances, at least so far as any thing had +then gone. ‘How is Marius?’ said I to my servant, as he opened my +shutters. Here let me mention that a friend of the Kildare-street club had +suggested this name from the remarkably classic character of my steed’s +countenance; his nose, he assured me, was perfectly Roman. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Marius is doing finely, sir, barring his cough, and the thrifle +that ails his hind legs.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘He’ll carry me quietly, Simon, eh?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Quietly. I’ll warrant he’ll carry you quietly, if +that’s all.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Here was comfort. Certainly Simon had lived forty years as pantry boy +with my mother, and knew a great deal about horses. I dressed myself, +therefore, in high spirits; and if my pilot jacket and oil-skin cap in former +days had half persuaded me that I was born for marine achievements, certainly +my cords and tops, that morning, went far to convince me that I must have once +been a very keen sportsman somewhere, without knowing it. It was a delightful +July day that I set out to join my friends, who having recruited a large party, +were to rendezvous at the corner of Stephen’s-green; thither I proceeded +in a certain ambling trot, which I have often observed is a very favourite pace +with timid horsemen, and gentlemen of the medical profession. I was hailed with +a most hearty welcome by a large party as I turned out of Grafton-street, among +whom I perceived several friends of Miss Eversham, and some young dragoon +officers, not of my acquaintance, but who appeared to know Fanny intimately, +and were laughing heartily with her as I rode up. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know if other men have experienced what I am about to +mention or not; but certainly to me there is no more painful sensation than to +find yourself among a number of well-mounted, well-equipped people, while the +animal you yourself bestride seems only fit for the kennel. Every look that is +cast at your unlucky steed—every whispered observation about you are so +many thorns in your flesh, till at last you begin to feel that your appearance +is for very little else than the amusement and mirth of the assembly; and every +time you rise in your stirrups you excite a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Where for mercy’s sake did you find that creature?’ +said Fanny, surveying Marius through her glass. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, him, eh? Why he is a handsome horse, if in condition—a +charger your know—that’s his style.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Indeed,’ lisped a young lancer, ‘I should be devilish +sorry to charge or be charged with him.’ And here they all chuckled at +this puppy’s silly joke, and I drew up to repress further liberties. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Is he anything of a fencer?’ said a young country +gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“‘To judge from his near eye, I should say much more of a +boxer,’ said another. +</p> + +<p> +“Here commenced a running fire of pleasantry at the expense of my poor +steed; which, not content with attacking his physical, extended to his moral +qualities. An old gentleman near me observing, ‘that I ought not to have +mounted him at all, seeing he was so damned groggy;’ to which I replied, +by insinuating, that if others present were as free from the influence of +ardent spirits, society would not be a sufferer; an observation that I flatter +myself turned the mirth against the old fellow, for they all laughed for a +quarter of an hour after. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at last we set out in a brisk trot, and, placed near Fanny, I +speedily forgot all my annoyances in the prospect of figuring to advantage +before her. When we reached College-green the leaders of the cortege suddenly +drew up, and we soon found that the entire street opposite the Bank was filled +with a dense mob of people, who appeared to be swayed hither and thither, like +some mighty beast, as the individuals composing it were engaged in close +conflict. It was nothing more nor less than one of those almost weekly rows, +which then took place between the students of the University and the +town’s-people, and which rarely ended without serious consequences. The +numbers of people pressing on to the scene of action soon blocked up our +retreat, and we found ourselves most unwilling spectators of the conflict. +Political watch-words were loudly shouted by each party; and at last the +students, who appeared to be yielding to superior numbers, called out for the +intervention of the police. The aid was nearer than they expected; for at the +same instant a body of mounted policemen, whose high helmets rendered them +sufficiently conspicuous, were seen trotting at a sharp pace down Dame-street. +On they came with drawn sabres, led by a well-looking gentlemanlike personage +in plain clothes, who dashed at once into the midst of the fray, issuing his +orders, and pointing out to his followers to secure the ringleaders. Up to this +moment I had been a most patient, and rather amused spectator, of what was +doing. Now, however, my part was to commence, for at the word +‘charge,’ given in a harsh, deep voice by the sergeant of the +party, Marius, remembering his ancient instinct, pricked up his ears, cocked +his tail, flung up both his hind legs till they nearly broke the +Provost’s windows, and plunged into the thickest of the fray like a devil +incarnate. +</p> + +<p> +“Self-preservation must be a strong instinct, for I well remember how +little pain it cost me to see the people tumbling and rolling before and +beneath me, while I continued to keep my seat. It was only the moment before +and that immense mass were in man to man encounter; now all the indignation of +both parties seemed turned upon me; brick-bats were loudly implored, and paving +stones begged to throw at my devoted head; the wild huntsman of the German +romance never created half the terror, nor one-tenth of the mischief that I did +in less than fifteen minutes, for the ill-starred beast continued twining and +twisting like a serpent, plunging and kicking the entire time, and occasionally +biting too; all which accomplishments I afterwards learned, however little in +request in civil life, are highly prized in the horse police. +</p> + +<p> +“Every new order of the sergeant was followed in his own fashion by +Marius; who very soon contrived to concentrate in my unhappy person, all the +interest of about fifteen hundred people. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Secure that scoundrel,’ said the magistrate, pointing with +his finger towards me, as I rode over a respectable looking old lady, with a +grey muff. ‘Secure him. Cut him down.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ah, devil’s luck to him, if ye do,’ said a newsmonger +with a broken shin. +</p> + +<p> +“On I went, however, and now, as the Fates would have it, instead of +bearing me out of further danger, the confounded brute dashed onwards to where +the magistrate was standing, surrounded by policemen. I thought I saw him +change colour as I came on. I suppose my own looks were none of the +pleasantest, for the worthy man liked them not. Into the midst of them we +plunged, upsetting a corporal, horse and all, and appearing as if bent upon +reaching the alderman. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Cut him down for heaven’s sake. Will nobody shoot +him’ said he, with a voice trembling with fear and anger. +</p> + +<p> +“At these words a wretch lifted up his sabre, and made a cut at my head. +I stooped suddenly, and throwing myself from the saddle, seized the poor +alderman round the neck, and we both came rolling to the ground together. So +completely was he possessed with the notion that I meant to assassinate him, +that while I was endeavouring to extricate myself from his grasp, he continued +to beg his life in the most heartrending manner. +</p> + +<p> +“My story is now soon told. So effectually did they rescue the alderman +from his danger, that they left me insensible; and I only came to myself some +days after by finding myself in the dock in Green-street, charged with an +indictment of nineteen counts; the only word of truth is what lay in the +preamble, for the ‘devil inciting’ me only, would ever have made me +the owner of that infernal beast, the cause of all my misfortunes. I was so +stupified from my hearing, that I know little of the course of the proceedings. +My friends told me afterwards that I had a narrow escape from transportation; +but for the greatest influence exerted in my behalf, I should certainly have +passed the autumn in the agreeable recreation of pounding oyster shells or +carding wool; and it certainly must have gone hard with me, for stupified as I +was, I remember the sensation in court, when the alderman made his appearance +with a patch over his eye. The affecting admonition of the little +judge—who, when passing sentence upon me, adverted to the former +respectability of my life, and the rank of my relatives—actually made the +galleries weep. +</p> + +<p> +“Four months in Newgate, and a fine to the king, then rewarded my taste +for horse-exercise; and it’s no wonder if I prefer going on foot. +</p> + +<p> +“As to Miss Eversham, the following short note from the dean concluded my +hopes in that quarter. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“‘Deanery, Wednesday morning. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“‘Sir,—After the very distressing publicity to which your +late conduct has exposed you—the so open avowal of political opinion, at +variance with those (I will say) of every gentleman—and the recorded +sentence of a judge on the verdict of twelve of your countrymen—I should +hope that you will not feel my present admonition necessary to inform you, that +your visits at my house shall cease.<br/> + “‘The presents you made my daughter, when under our unfortunate +ignorance of your real character, have been addressed to your hotel, and I am +your most obedient, humble servant, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“‘Oliver Eversham.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Here ended my second affair ‘par amours;’ and I freely +confess to you that if I can only obtain a wife in a sea voyage, or a steeple +chase, I am likely to fulfill one great condition in modern +advertising—‘as having no incumbrance, or any objection to +travel.’” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch35" id="ch35"></a> CHAPTER XXXV.<br/> +THE DUEL.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus17"></a> +<a href="images/fig17.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig17.jpg" width="408" height="600" alt="Illustration: Mr. +O’Leary Imagines Himself Kilt" /></a> +<p class="caption">Mr. O’Leary Imagines Himself Kilt</p> +</div> + +<p> +Mr. O’Leary had scarcely concluded the narrative of his second adventure, +when the grey light of the breaking day was seen faintly struggling through the +half-closed curtains, and apprising us of the lateness of the hour. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we shall just have time for one finishing flask of +Chambertin,” said O’Leary, as he emptied the bottle into his glass. +</p> + +<p> +“I forbid the bans, for one,” cried Trevanion. “We have all +had wine enough, considering what we have before us this morning; and besides +you are not aware it is now past four o’clock. So garcon—garcon, +there—how soundly the poor fellow sleeps—let us have some coffee, +and then inquire if a carriage is in waiting at the corner of the Rue +Vivienne.” +</p> + +<p> +The coffee made its appearance, very much, as it seemed, to Mr. +O’Leary’s chagrin, who, however, solaced himself by sundry petits +verres, to correct the coldness of the wine he had drank, and at length +recovered his good humour. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know, now,” said he, after a short pause, in which we had +all kept silence, “I think what we are about to do, is the very ugliest +way of finishing a pleasant evening. For my own part I like the wind up we used +to have in ‘Old Trinity’ formerly; when, after wringing off half a +dozen knockers, breaking the lamps at the post-office, and getting out the fire +engines of Werburgh’s parish, we beat a few watchmen, and went peaceably +to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, not being an Irishman,” said Trevanion, “I’m +half disposed to think that even our present purpose is nearly as favourable to +life and limb; but here comes my servant. Well, John, is all arranged, and the +carriage ready?” +</p> + +<p> +Having ascertained that the carriage was in waiting, and that the small +box—brass bound and Bramah-locked—reposed within, we paid our bill +and departed. A cold, raw, misty-looking morning, with masses of dark louring +clouds overhead, and channels of dark and murky water beneath, were the +pleasant prospects which met us as we issued forth from the Cafe. The lamps, +which hung suspended midway across the street, (we speak of some years since,) +creaked, with a low and plaintive sound, as they swung backwards and forwards +in the wind. Not a footstep was heard in the street—nothing but the heavy +patter of the rain as it fell ceaselessly upon the broad pavement. It was, +indeed, a most depressing and dispiriting accompaniment to our intended +excursion: and even O’Leary, who seemed to have but slight sympathy with +external influences, felt it, for he spoke but little, and was scarcely ten +minutes in the carriage till he was sound asleep. This was, I confess, a great +relief to me; for, however impressed I was, and to this hour am, with the many +sterling qualitites of my poor friend, yet, I acknowledge, that this was not +precisely the time I should have cared for their exercise, and would have much +preferred the companionship of a different order of person, even though less +long acquainted with him. Trevanion was, of all others, the most suitable for +this purpose; and I felt no embarrassment in opening my mind freely to him upon +subjects which, but twenty-four hours previous, I could not have imparted to a +brother. +</p> + +<p> +There is no such unlocker of the secrets of the heart as the possibly near +approach of death. Indeed, I question if a great deal of the bitterness the +thought of it inspires, does not depend upon that very circumstance. The +reflection that the long-treasured mystery of our lives (and who is there +without some such?) is about to become known, and the secret of our inmost +heart laid bare, is in itself depressing. Not one kind word, nor one +remembrancing adieu, to those we are to leave for ever, can be spoken or +written, without calling up its own story of half-forgotten griefs or, still +worse, at such a moment, of happiness never again to be partaken of. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot explain why,” said I to Trevanion, “but although it +has unfortunately been pretty often my lot to have gone out on occasions like +this, both as principal and friend, yet never before did I feel so completely +depressed and low-spirited—and never, in fact, did so many thoughts of +regret arise before me for much of the past, and sorrow for the chance of +abandoning the future”— +</p> + +<p> +“I can understand,” said Trevanion, interrupting—“I +have heard of your prospect in the Callonby family, and certainly, with such +hopes, I can well conceive how little one would be disposed to brook the +slightest incident which could interfere with their accomplishment; but, now +that your cousin Guy’s pretensions in that quarter are at an end, I +suppose, from all I have heard, that there can be no great obstacle to +yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Guy’s pretensions at an end! For heaven’s sake, tell me all +you know of this affair—for up to this moment I am in utter ignorance of +every thing regarding his position among the Callonby family.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately,” replied Trevanion, “I know but little, but +still that little is authentic—Guy himself having imparted the secret to +a very intimate friend of mine. It appears, then, that your cousin, having +heard that the Callonbys had been very civil to you in Ireland, and made all +manner of advances to you—had done so under the impression that you were +the other nephew of Sir Guy, and consequently the heir of a large +fortune—that is, Guy himself—and that they had never discovered the +mistake during the time they resided in Ireland, when they not only permitted, +but even encouraged the closest intimacy between you and Lady Jane. Is so far +true?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have long suspected it. Indeed in no other way can I account for the +reception I met with from the Callonbys. But is it possible that Lady Jane +could have lent herself to any thing so unworthy.”— +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, hear me out,” said Trevanion, who was evidently struck by +the despondency of my voice and manner. “Guy having heard of their +mistake, and auguring well to himself from this evidence of their disposition, +no sooner heard of their arrival in Paris, than he came over here and got +introduced to them. From that time he scarcely ever left their house, except to +accompany them into society, or to the theatres. It is said that with Lady Jane +he made no progress. Her manner, at the beginning cold and formal, became daily +more so; until, at last, he was half disposed to abandon the pursuit—in +which, by the by, he has since confessed, monied views entered more than any +affection for the lady—when the thought struck him to benefit by what he +supposed at first to be the great bar to his success. He suddenly pretended to +be only desirous of intimacy with Lady Jane, from having heard so much of her +from you—affected to be greatly in your confidence—and, in fact, +assumed the character of a friend cognizant of all your feelings and hopes, and +ardently desiring, by every means in his power, to advance your +views—” +</p> + +<p> +“And was it thus he succeeded,” I broke in. +</p> + +<p> +“’Twas thus he endeavoured to succeed,” said Trevanion. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, with what success I but too well know” said I. “My uncle +himself showed me a letter from Guy, in which he absolutely speaks of the +affair as settled, and talks of Lady Jane as about to be his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“That may be all quite true; but a little consideration of Guy’s +tactics will show what he intended; for I find that he induced your uncle, by +some representations of his, to make the most handsome proposals, with regard +to the marriage, to the Callonbys; and that, to make the story short, nothing +but the decided refusal of Lady Jane, who at length saw through his entire game +prevented the match.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then she did refuse him,” said I, with ill-repressed +exultation. +</p> + +<p> +“Of that there can be no doubt; for independently of all the gossip and +quizzing upon the subject, to which Guy was exposed in the coteries, he made +little secret of it himself—openly avowing that he did not consider a +repulse a defeat, and that he resolved to sustain the siege as vigorously as +ever.” +</p> + +<p> +However interested I felt in all Trevanion was telling me, I could not help +falling into a train of thinking on my first acquaintance with the Callonbys. +There are, perhaps, but few things more humiliating than the knowledge that any +attention or consideration we have met with, has been paid us in mistake for +another; and in the very proportion that they were prized before, are they +detested when the truth is known to us. +</p> + +<p> +To all the depressing influences these thoughts suggested, came the healing +balm that Lady Jane was true to me—that she, at least, however others +might be biassed by worldly considerations—that she cared for +me—for myself alone. My reader (alas! for my character for judgment) +knows upon how little I founded the conviction; but I have often, in these +Confessions, avowed my failing, par excellence, to be a great taste for +self-deception; and here was a capital occasion for its indulgence. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall have abundant time to discuss this later on,” said +Trevanion, laying his hand upon my shoulder to rouse my wandering +attention—“for now, I perceive, we have only eight minutes to +spare.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke, a dragoon officer, in an undress, rode up to the window of the +carriage, and looking steadily at our party for a few seconds, asked if we were +“Messieurs les Anglais;” and, almost without waiting for reply, +added, “You had better not go any farther in your carriage, for the next +turn of the road will bring you in sight of the village.” +</p> + +<p> +We accordingly stopped the driver, and having (with) some difficulty aroused +O’Leary, got out upon the road. The militaire here gave his horse to a +groom, and proceeded to guide us through a corn-field by a narrow path, with +whose windings and crossings he appeared quite conversant. We at length reached +the brow of a little hill, from which an extended view of the country lay +before us, showing the Seine winding its tranquil course between the richly +tilled fields, dotted with many a pretty cottage. Turning abruptly from this +point, our guide led us, by a narrow and steep path, into a little glen, +planted with poplar and willows. A small stream ran through this, and by the +noise we soon detected that a mill was not far distant, which another turning +brought us at once in front of. +</p> + +<p> +And here I cannot help dwelling upon the “tableau” which met our +view. In the porch of the little rural mill sat two gentlemen, one of whom I +immediately recognised as the person who had waited upon me, and the other I +rightly conjectured to be my adversary. Before them stood a small table, +covered with a spotless napkin, upon which a breakfast equipage was +spread—a most inviting melon and a long, slender-necked bottle, reposing +in a little ice-pail, forming part of the “materiel.” My opponent +was cooly enjoying his cigar—a half-finished cup of coffee lay beside +him—his friend was occupied in examining the caps of the duelling +pistols, which were placed upon a chair. No sooner had we turned the angle +which brought us in view, than they both rose, and, taking off their hats with +much courtesy, bade us good morning. +</p> + +<p> +“May I offer you a cup of coffee,” said Monsieur Derigny to me, as +I came up, at the same time filling it out, and pushing over a little flask of +Cogniac towards me. +</p> + +<p> +A look from Trevanion decided my acceptance of the proferred civility, and I +seated myself in the chair beside the baron. Trevanion meanwhile had engaged my +adversary in conversation along with the stranger, who had been our guide, +leaving O’Leary alone unoccupied, which, however, he did not long remain; +for, although uninvited by the others, he seized a knife and fork, and +commenced a vigorous attack upon a partridge pie near him; and, with equal +absence of ceremony, uncorked the champaign and filled out a foaming goblet, +nearly one-third of the whole bottle, adding— +</p> + +<p> +“I think, Mr. Lorrequer, there’s nothing like showing them that we +are just as cool and unconcerned as themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +If I might judge from the looks of the party, a happier mode of convincing them +of our “free-and-easy” feelings could not possibly have been +discovered. From any mortification this proceeding might have caused me, I was +speedily relieved by Trevanion calling O’Leary to one side, while he +explained to him that he must nominally act as second on the ground, as +Trevanion, being a resident in Paris, might become liable to a prosecution, +should any thing serious arise, while O’Leary, as a mere passer through, +could cross the frontier into Germany, and avoid all trouble. +</p> + +<p> +O’Leary at once acceded—perhaps the more readily because he +expected to be allowed to return to his breakfast—but in this he soon +found himself mistaken, for the whole party now rose, and preceded by the +baron, followed the course of the little stream. +</p> + +<p> +After about five minutes’ walking, we found ourselves at the outlet of +the glen, which was formed by a large stone quarry, making a species of +amphitheatre, with lofty walls of rugged granite, rising thirty or forty feet +on either side of us. The ground was smooth and level as a boarded floor, and +certainly to amateurs in these sort of matters, presented a most perfect spot +for a “meeting.” +</p> + +<p> +The stranger who had just joined us, could not help remarking our looks of +satisfaction at the choice of ground, and observed to me— +</p> + +<p> +“This is not the first affair that this little spot has witnessed; and +the moulinet of St. Cloud is, I think, the very best ‘meet’ about +Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +Trevanion who, during these few minutes, had been engaged with Derigny, now +drew me aside. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Lorrequer, have you any recollection now of having seen your +opponent before? or can you make a guess at the source of all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never till this instant,” said I, “have I beheld him,” +as I looked towards the tall, stoutly-built figure of my adversary, who was +very leisurely detaching a cordon from his tightly fitting frock, doubtless to +prevent its attracting my aim. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, never mind, I shall manage every thing properly. What can you do +with the small sword, for they have rapiers at the mill?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing whatever; I have not fenced since I was a boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“N’importe—then we’ll fight at a barriere. I know +they’re not prepared for that from Englishmen; so just step on one side +now, and leave me to talk it over.” +</p> + +<p> +As the limited nature of the ground did not permit me to retire to a distance, +I became involuntarily aware of a dialogue, which even the seriousness of the +moment could scarcely keep me from laughing at outright. +</p> + +<p> +It was necessary, for the sake of avoiding any possible legal difficulty in the +result, that O’Leary should give his assent to every step of the +arrangement; and being totally ignorant of French, Trevanion had not only to +translate for him, but also to render in reply O’Leary’s own +comments or objections to the propositions of the others. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it is agreed—we fight at a barriere,” said the Captain +Derigny. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that, Trevanion?” +</p> + +<p> +“We have agreed to place them at a barriere,” replied Trevanion. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s strange,” muttered O’Leary to himself, who, +knowing that the word meant a “turnpike,” never supposed it had any +other signification. +</p> + +<p> +“Vingt quatre pas, n’est pas,” said Derigny. +</p> + +<p> +“Too far,” interposed Trevanion. +</p> + +<p> +“What does he say now?” asked O’Leary. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-four paces for the distance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-four of my teeth he means,” said O’Leary, snapping +his fingers. “What does he think of the length of Sackville-street? Ask +him that, will ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“What says Monsieur?” said the Frenchman. +</p> + +<p> +“He thinks the distance much too great.” +</p> + +<p> +“He may be mistaken,” said the Captain, half sneeringly. “My +friend is ‘de la premiere force.’” +</p> + +<p> +“That must be something impudent, from your looks, Mr. Trevanion. +Isn’t it a thousand pities I can’t speak French?” +</p> + +<p> +“What say you, then, to twelve paces? Fire together, and two shots each, +if the first fire be inconclusive,” said Trevanion. +</p> + +<p> +“And if necessary,” added the Frenchman, carelessly, +“conclude with these”—touching the swords with his foot as he +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“The choice of the weapon lies with us, I opine,” replied +Trevanion. “We have already named pistols, and by them we shall decide +this matter.” +</p> + +<p> +It was at length, after innumerable objections, agreed upon that we should be +placed back to back, and at a word given each walk forward to a certain +distance marked out by a stone, where we were to halt, and at the signal, +“une,” “deux,” turn round and fire. +</p> + +<p> +This, which is essentially a French invention in duelling, was perfectly new to +me, but by no means to Trevanion, who was fully aware of the immense +consequence of not giving even a momentary opportunity for aim to my +antagonist; and in this mode of firing the most practised and deadly shot is +liable to err—particularly if the signal be given quickly. +</p> + +<p> +While Trevanion and the Captain were measuring out the ground, a little +circumstance which was enacted near me was certainly not over calculated to +strengthen my nerve. The stranger who had led us to the ground had begun to +examine the pistols, and finding that one of them was loaded, turned towards my +adversary, saying, “De Haultpenne, you have forgotten to draw the charge. +Come let us see what vein you are in.” At the same time, drawing off his +large cavalry glove, he handed the pistol to his friend. +</p> + +<p> +“A double Napoleon you don’t hit the thumb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Done,” said the other, adjusting the weapon in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +The action was scarcely performed, when the bettor flung the glove into the air +with all his force. My opponent raised his pistol, waited for an instant, till +the glove, having attained its greatest height, turned to fall again. Then +click went the trigger—the glove turned round and round half-a-dozen +times, and fell about twenty yards off, and the thumb was found cut clearly off +at the juncture with the hand. +</p> + +<p> +This—which did not occupy half as long as I have spent in recounting +it—was certainly a pleasant introduction to standing at fifteen yards +from the principal actor; and I should doubtless have felt it in all its force, +had not my attention been drawn off by the ludicrous expression of grief in +O’Leary’s countenance, who evidently regarded me as already +defunct. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Lorrequer, we are ready,” said Trevanion, coming forward; and +then, lowering his voice, added, “All is in your favour; I have won the +‘word,’ which I shall give the moment you halt. So turn and fire at +once: be sure not to go too far round in the turn—that is the invariable +error in this mode of firing; only no hurry—be calm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Messieurs,” said Derigny, as he approached with his friend +leaning upon his arm, and placed him in the spot allotted to him. Trevanion +then took my arm, and placed me back to back to my antagonist. As I took up my +ground, it so chanced that my adversary’s spur slightly grazed me, upon +which he immediately turned round, and, with the most engaging smile, begged a +“thousand pardons,” and hoped I was not hurt. +</p> + +<p> +O’Leary, who saw the incident, and guessed the action aright, called out: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the cold-blooded villain; the devil a chance for you, Mr. +Lorrequer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Messieurs, your pistols,” said Le Capitaine la Garde, who, as he +handed the weapons, and repeated once more the conditions of the combat, gave +the word to march. +</p> + +<p> +I now walked slowly forward to the place marked out by the stone; but it seemed +that I must have been in advance of my opponent, for I remember some seconds +elapsed before Trevanion coughed slightly, and then with a clear full voice +called out “Une,” “Deux.” I had scarcely turned myself +half round, when my right arm was suddenly lifted up, as if by a galvanic +shock. My pistol jerked upwards, and exploded the same moment, and then dropped +powerlessly from my hand, which I now felt was covered with warm blood from a +wound near the elbow. From the acute but momentary pang this gave me, my +attention was soon called off; for scarcely had my arm been struck, when a loud +clattering noise to my left induced me to turn, and then, to my astonishment, I +saw my friend O’Leary about twelve feet from the ground, hanging on by +some ash twigs that grew from the clefts of the granite. Fragments of broken +rock were falling around him, and his own position momentarily threatened a +downfall. He was screaming with all his might; but what he said was entirely +lost in the shouts of laughter of Trevanion and the Frenchmen, who could +scarcely stand with the immoderate exuberance of their mirth. +</p> + +<p> +I had not time to run to his aid—which, although wounded, I should have +done—when the branch he clung to, slowly yielded with his weight, and the +round, plump figure of my poor friend rolled over the little cleft of rock, +and, after a few faint struggles, came tumbling heavily down, and at last lay +peaceably in the deep heather at the bottom—his cries the whole time +being loud enough to rise even above the vociferous laughter of the others. +</p> + +<p> +I now ran forward, as did Trevanion, when O’Leary, turning his eyes +towards me, said, in the most piteous manner— +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lorrequer, I forgive you—here is my hand—bad luck to +their French way of fighting, that’s all—it’s only good for +killing one’s friend. I thought I was safe up there, come what +might.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear O’Leary,” said I, in an agony, which prevented my +minding the laughing faces around me, “surely you don’t mean to say +that I have wounded you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, dear, not wounded, only killed me outright—through the brain +it must be, from the torture I’m suffering.” +</p> + +<p> +The shout with which this speech was received, sufficiently aroused me; while +Trevanion, with a voice nearly choked with laughter, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Lorrequer, did you not see that your pistol, on being struck, threw +your ball high up on the quarry; fortunately, however, about a foot and a half +above Mr. O’Leary’s head, whose most serious wounds are his +scratched hands and bruised bones from his tumble.” +</p> + +<p> +This explanation, which was perfectly satisfactory to me, was by no means so +consoling to poor O’Leary, who lay quite unconscious to all around, +moaning in the most melancholy manner. Some of the blood, which continued to +flow fast from my wound, having dropped upon his face, roused him a +little—but only to increase his lamentation for his own destiny, which he +believed was fast accomplishing. +</p> + +<p> +“Through the skull—clean through the skull—and preserving my +senses to the last! Mr. Lorrequer, stoop down—it is a dying man asks +you—don’t refuse me a last request. There’s neither luck nor +grace, honor nor glory in such a way of fighting—so just promise me +you’ll shoot that grinning baboon there, when he’s going off the +ground, since it’s the fashion to fire at a man with his back to you. +Bring him down, and I’ll die easy.” +</p> + +<p> +And with these words he closed his eyes, and straightened out his +legs—stretched his arm at either side, and arranged himself as much +corpse fashion as the circumstances of the ground would permit—while I +now freely participated in the mirth of the others, which, loud and boisterous +as it was, never reached the ears of O’Leary. +</p> + +<p> +My arm had now become so painful, that I was obliged to ask Trevanion to assist +me in getting off my coat. The surprise of the Frenchmen on learning that I was +wounded was very considerable—O’Leary’s catastrophe having +exclusively engaged all attention. My arm was now examined, when it was +discovered that the ball had passed through from one side to the other, without +apparently touching the bone; the bullet and the portion of my coat carried in +by it both lay in my sleeve. The only serious consequence to be apprehended was +the wound of the blood-vessel, which continued to pour forth blood unceasingly, +and I was just surgeon enough to guess that an artery had been cut. +</p> + +<p> +Trevanion bound his handkerchief tightly across the wound, and assisted me to +the high road, which, so sudden was the loss of blood, I reached with +difficulty. During all these proceedings, nothing could be possibly more kind +and considerate than the conduct of our opponents. All the farouche and +swaggering air which they had deemed the “rigueur” before, at once +fled, and in its place we found the most gentlemanlike attention and true +politeness. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as I was enabled to speak upon the matter, I begged Trevanion to look +to poor O’Leary, who still lay upon the ground in a state of perfect +unconsciousness. Captain Derigny, on hearing my wish, at once returned to the +quarry, and, with the greatest difficulty, persuaded my friend to rise and +endeavour to walk, which at last he did attempt, calling him to bear witness +that it perhaps was the only case on record where a man with a bullet in his +brain had made such an exertion. +</p> + +<p> +With a view to my comfort and quiet, they put him into the cab of Le Baron; +and, having undertaken to send Dupuytrien to me immediately on my reaching +Paris, took their leave, and Trevanion and I set out homeward. +</p> + +<p> +Not all my exhaustion and debility—nor even the acute pain I was +suffering, could prevent my laughing at O’Leary’s adventure; and it +required all Trevanion’s prudence to prevent my indulging too far in my +recollection of it. +</p> + +<p> +When we reached Meurice’s, I found Dupuytrien in waiting, who immediately +pronounced the main artery of the limb as wounded; and almost as +instantaneously proceeded to pass a ligature round it. This painful business +being concluded, I was placed upon a sofa, and being plentifully supplied with +lemonade, and enjoined to keep quiet, left to my own meditations, such as they +were, till evening—Trevanion having taken upon him to apologize for our +absence at Mrs. Bingham’s dejeune, and O’Leary being fast asleep in +his own apartments. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch36" id="ch36"></a> CHAPTER XXXVI.<br/> +EARLY RECOLLECTIONS—A FIRST LOVE.</h2> + +<p> +I know of no sensations so very nearly alike, as those felt on awaking after +very sudden and profuse loss of blood, and those resulting from a large dose of +opium. The dizziness, the confusion, and the abstraction at first, gradually +yielding, as the senses became clearer, to a vague and indistinct +consciousness; then the strange mistiness, in which fact and fiction are +wrapped up—the confounding of persons, and places, and times, not so as +to embarrass and annoy—for the very debility you feel subdues all +irritation—but rather to present a panoramic picture of odd and +incongruous events more pleasing than otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +Of the circumstances by which I was thus brought to a sick couch, I had not +even the most vague recollection—the faces and the dress of all those I +had lately seen were vividly before me; but how, and for what purpose I knew +not. Something in their kindness and attention had left an agreeable impression +upon my mind, and without being able, or even attempting to trace it, I felt +happy in the thought. While thus the “hour before” was dim and +indistinct, the events of years past were vividly and brightly pictured before +me; and strange, too, the more remote the period, the more did it seem palpable +and present to my imagination. For so it is, there is in memory a species of +mental long-sightedness, which, though blind to the object close beside you, +can reach the blue mountains and the starry skies, which lie full many a league +away. Is this a malady? or is it rather a providential gift to alleviate the +tedious hours of the sick bed, and cheer the lonely sufferer, whose thoughts +are his only realm? +</p> + +<p> +My school-boy days, in all their holiday excitement; the bank where I had +culled the earliest cowslips of the year; the clear but rapid stream, where +days long I have watched the speckled trout, as they swam peacefully beneath, +or shook their bright fins in the gay sunshine; the gorgeous dragon-fly that +played above the water, and dipped his bright wings in its ripple—they +were all before me. And then came the thought of school itself, with its little +world of boyish cares and emulations; the early imbibed passion for success; +the ardent longing for superiority; the high and swelling feeling of the heart, +as home drew near, to think that I had gained the wished for prize—the +object of many an hour’s toil—the thought of many a long +night’s dream; my father’s smile; my mother’s kiss! Oh! what +a very world of tender memory that one thought suggests; for what are all our +later successes in life—how bright soever our fortune be—compared +with the early triumphs of our infancy? Where, among the jealous rivalry of +some, the cold and half-wrung praise of others, the selfish and unsympathising +regard of all, shall we find any thing to repay us for the swelling extacy of +our young hearts, as those who have cradled and loved us grow proud in our +successes? For myself, a life that has failed in every prestige of those that +prophesied favourably—years that have followed on each other only to +blight the promise that kind and well-wishing friends foretold—leave but +little to dwell upon, that can be reckoned as success. And yet, some moments I +have had, which half seemed to realize my early dream of ambition, and rouse my +spirit within me; but what were they all compared to my boyish glories? what +the passing excitement one’s own heart inspires in the lonely and selfish +solitude, when compared with that little world of sympathy and love our early +home teemed with, as, proud in some trifling distinction, we fell into a +mother’s arms, and heard our father’s “God bless you, +boy?” No, no; the world has no requital for this. It is like the bright +day-spring, which, as its glories gild the east, display before us a whole +world of beauty and promise—blighted hopes have not withered, false +friendships have not scathed, cold, selfish interest has not yet hardened our +hearts, or dried up our affections, and we are indeed happy; but equally like +the burst of morning is it fleeting and short-lived; and equally so, too, does +it pass away, never, never to return. +</p> + +<p> +From thoughts like these my mind wandered on to more advanced years, when, +emerging from very boyhood, I half believed myself a man, and was fully +convinced I was in love. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, after all, for the time it lasted—ten days, I think—it was +the most sincere passion I ever felt. I had been spending some weeks at a small +watering-place in Wales with some relatives of my mother. There were, as might +be supposed, but few “distractions” in such a place, save the +scenery, and an occasional day’s fishing in the little river of Dolgelly, +which ran near. In all these little rambles which the younger portion of the +family made together, frequent mention was ever being made of a visit from a +very dear cousin, and to which all looked forward with the greatest +eagerness—the elder ones of the party with a certain air of quiet +pleasure, as though they knew more than they said, and the younger with all the +childish exuberance of youthful delight. Clara Mourtray seemed to be, from all +I was hourly hearing, the very paragon and pattern of every thing. If any one +was praised for beauty, Clara was immediately pronounced much +prettier—did any one sing, Clara’s voice and taste were far +superior. In our homeward walk, should the shadows of the dark hills fall with +a picturesque effect upon the blue lake, some one was sure to say, “Oh! +how Clara would like to sketch that.” In short, there was no charm nor +accomplishment ever the gift of woman, that Clara did not possess; or, what +amounted pretty much to the same thing, that my relatives did not implicitly +give her credit for. The constantly recurring praises of the same person affect +us always differently as we go on in life. In youth the prevailing sentiment is +an ardent desire to see the prodigy of whom we have heard so much—in +after years, heartily to detest what hourly hurts our self-love by comparisons. +We would take any steps to avoid meeting what we have inwardly decreed to be a +“bore.” The former was my course; and though my curiosity was +certainly very great, I had made up my mind to as great a disappointment, and +half wished for the longed arrival as a means of criticising what they could +see no fault in. +</p> + +<p> +The wished-for evening at length came, and we all set out upon a walk to meet +the carriage which was to bring the bien aime Clara among us. We had not walked +above a mile when the eager eye of the foremost detected a cloud of dust upon +the road at some distance; and, after a few minutes more, four posters were +seen coming along at a tremendous rate. The next moment she was making the tour +of about a dozen uncles, aunts, cousins, and cousines, none of whom, it +appeared to me, felt any peculiar desire to surrender the hearty embrace to the +next of kin in succession. At last she came to me, when, perhaps, in the +confusion of the moment, not exactly remembering whether or not she had seen me +before, she stood for a moment silent—a deep blush mantling her lovely +cheek—masses of waving brown hair disordered and floating upon her +shoulders—her large and liquid blue eyes beaming upon me. One look was +enough. I was deeply—irretrievably in love. +</p> + +<p> +“Our cousin Harry—Harry Lorrequer—wild Harry, as we used to +call him, Clara,” said one of the girls introducing me. +</p> + +<p> +She held out her hand, and said something with a smile. What, I know +not—nor can I tell how I replied; but something absurd it must have been, +for they all laughed heartily, and the worthy papa himself tapped my shoulder +jestingly, adding, +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, Harry—you will do better one day, or I am much +mistaken in you.” +</p> + +<p> +Whether I was conscious that I had behaved foolishly or not, I cannot well say; +but the whole of that night I thought over plans innumerable how I should +succeed in putting myself forward before “Cousin Clara,” and +vindicating myself against any imputation of schoolboy mannerisms that my first +appearance might have caused. +</p> + +<p> +The next day we remained at home. Clara was too much fatigued to walk out, and +none of us would leave her. What a day of happiness that was! I knew something +of music, and could sing a second. Clara was delighted at this, for the others +had not cultivated singing much. We therefore spent the whole morning in this +way. Then she produced her sketch-book, and I brought out mine, and we had a +mutual interchange of prisoners. What cutting out of leaves and detaching of +rice-paper landscapes! Then she came out upon the lawn to see my pony leap, and +promised to ride him the following day. She patted the greyhounds, and said +Gipsy, which was mine, was the prettiest. In a word, before night fell Clara +had won my heart in its every fibre, and I went to my room the very happiest of +mortals. +</p> + +<p> +I need not chronicle my next three days—to me the most glorious +“trois jours” of my life. Clara had evidently singled me out and +preferred me to all the rest. It was beside me she rode—upon my arm she +leaned in walking—and, to comble me with delight unutterable, I overheard +her say to my uncle, “Oh, I doat upon poor Harry! And it is so pleasant, +for I’m sure Mortimer will be so jealous.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who is Mortimer,” thought I; “he is a new character in +the piece, of whom we have seen nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +I was not long in doubt upon this head, for that very day, at dinner, the +identical Mortimer presented himself. He was a fine, dashing-looking, +soldier-like fellow, of about thirty-five, and with a heavy moustache, and a +bronzed cheek—rather grave in his manner, but still perfectly +good-natured, and when he smiled showing a most handsome set of regular teeth. +Clara seemed less pleased (I thought) at his coming than the others, and took +pleasure in tormenting him by a thousand pettish and frivolous ways, which I +was sorry for, as I thought he did not like it; and used to look half chidingly +at her from time to time, but without any effect, for she just went on as +before, and generally ended by taking my arm and saying, “Come away, +Harry; you always are kind, and never look sulky. I can agree with you.” +These were delightful words for me to listen to, but I could not hear them +without feeling for him, who evidently was pained by Clara’s avowed +preference for me; and whose years—for I thought thirty-five at that time +a little verging upon the patriarchal—entitled him to more respect. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” thought I, one evening, as this game had been carried +rather farther than usual, “I hope she is content now, for certainly +Mortimer is jealous;” and the result proved it, for the whole of the +following day he absented himself, and never came back till late in the +evening. He had been, I found, from a chance observation I overheard, at the +bishop’s palace, and the bishop himself, I learned, was to breakfast with +us in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry, I have a commission for you,” said Clara. “You must +get up very early to-morrow, and climb the Cader mountain, and bring me a grand +bouquet of the blue and purple heath that I liked so much the last time I was +there. Mind very early, for I intend to surprise the bishop to-morrow with my +taste in a nosegay.” +</p> + +<p> +The sun had scarcely risen as I sprang from my bed, and started upon my errand. +Oh! the glorious beauty of that morning’s walk. As I climbed the +mountain, the deep mists lay upon all around, and except the path I was +treading, nothing was visible; but before I reached the top, the heavy masses +of vapour were yielding to the influence of the sun; and as they rolled from +the valleys up the mountain sides, were every instant opening new glens and +ravines beneath me—bright in all their verdure, and speckled with sheep, +whose tingling bells reached me even where I stood. +</p> + +<p> +I counted above twenty lakes at different levels, below me; some brilliant, and +shining like polished mirrors; others not less beautiful, dark and solemn with +some mighty mountain shadow. As I looked landward, the mountains reared their +huge crests, one above the other, to the farthest any eye could reach. Towards +the opposite side, the calm and tranquil sea lay beneath me, bathed in the +yellow gold of a rising sun; a few ships were peaceably lying at anchor in the +bay; and the only thing in motion was a row-boat, the heavy monotonous stroke +of whose oars rose in the stillness of the morning air. Not a single habitation +of man could I descry, nor any vestige of a human being, except that mass of +something upon the rock far down beneath be one, and I think it is, for I see +the sheep-dog ever returning again and again to the same spot. +</p> + +<p> +My bouquet was gathered; the gentian of the Alps, which is found here, also +contributing its evidence to show where I had been to seek it, and I turned +home. +</p> + +<p> +The family were at breakfast as I entered; at least so the servants said, for I +only remembered then that the bishop was our guest, and that I could not +present myself without some slight attention to my dress. I hastened to my +room, and scarcely had I finished, when one of my cousins, a little girl of +eight years, came to the door and said, +</p> + +<p> +“Harry, come down; Clara wants you.” +</p> + +<p> +I rushed down stairs, and as I entered the breakfast parlour, stood still with +surprise. The ladies were all dressed in white, and even my little cousin wore +a gala costume that amazed me. +</p> + +<p> +“My bouquet, Harry; I hope you have not forgotten it,” said Clara, +as I approached. +</p> + +<p> +I presented it at once, when she gaily and coquettishly held out her hand for +me to kiss. This I did, my blood rushing to my face and temples the while, and +almost depriving me of consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Clara, I am surprised at you,” said Mortimer. “How can +you treat the poor boy so?” +</p> + +<p> +I grew deadly pale at these words, and, turning round, looked at the speaker +full in the face. Poor fellow, thought I, he is jealous, and I am really +grieved for him; and turned again to Clara. +</p> + +<p> +“Here it is—oh! how handsome, papa,” said one of the younger +children, running eagerly to the window, as a very pretty open carriage with +four horses drew up before the house. +</p> + +<p> +“The bishop has taste,” I murmured to myself, scarcely deigning to +give a second look at the equipage. +</p> + +<p> +Clara now left the room, but speedily returned—her dress changed, and +shawled as if for a walk. What could all this mean?—and the whispering, +too, what is all that?—and why are they all so sad?—Clara has been +weeping. +</p> + +<p> +“God bless you, my child—good by,” said my aunt, as she +folded her in her arms for the third time. +</p> + +<p> +“Good by, good by,” I heard on every side. At length, approaching +me, Clara took my hand and said— +</p> + +<p> +“My poor Harry, so we are going to part. I am going to Italy.” +</p> + +<p> +“To Italy, Clara? Oh! no—say no. Italy! I shall never see you +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you wear this ring for me, Harry? It is an old favourite of +yours—and when we meet again”— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! dearest Clara,” I said, “do not speak thus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good by, my poor boy, good by,” said Clara hurriedly; and, rushing +out of the room, she was lifted by Mortimer into the carriage, who, immediately +jumping in after her, the whip cracked, the horses clattered, and all was out +of sight in a second. +</p> + +<p> +“Why is she gone with him?” said I, reproachfully, turning towards +my aunt. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my dear, a very sufficient reason. She was married this +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +This was my first love. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch37" id="ch37"></a> CHAPTER XXXVII.<br/> +WISE RESOLVES.</h2> + +<p> +Musing over this boyish adventure, I fell into a deep slumber, and on awakening +it took me some minutes before I could recall my senses sufficiently to know +where I was. The whole face of things in my room was completely changed. +Flowers had been put in the china vases upon the tables—two handsome +lamps, shaded with gauzes, stood upon the consoles—illustrated books, +prints, and caricatures, were scattered about. A piano-forte had also, by some +witchcraft, insinuated itself into a recess near the sofa—a handsome +little tea service, of old Dresden china, graced a marquetry table—and a +little picquet table stood most invitingly beside the fire. I had scarcely time +to turn my eyes from one to the other of these new occupants, when I heard the +handle of my door gently turn, as if by some cautious hand, and immediately +closed my eyes and feigned sleep. Through my half-shut lids I perceived the +door opened. After a pause of about a second, the skirt of a white muslin dress +appeared—then a pretty foot stole a little farther—and at last the +slight and graceful figure of Emily Bingham advanced noiselessly into the room. +Fear had rendered her deadly pale; but the effect of her rich brown hair, +braided plainly on either side of her cheek, suited so well the character of +her features, I thought her far handsomer than ever. She came forward towards +the table, and I now could perceive that she had something in her hand +resembling a letter. This she placed near my hand—so near as almost to +touch it. She leaned over me—I felt her breath upon my brow, but never +moved. At this instant, a tress of her hair, becoming unfastened, fell over +upon my face. She started—the motion threw me off my guard, and I looked +up. She gave a faint, scarce audible shriek, and sank into the chair beside me. +Recovering, however, upon the instant, she grasped the letter she had just laid +down, and, having crushed it between her fingers, threw it into the fire. This +done—as if the effort had been too much for her strength—she again +fell back upon her seat, and looked so pale I almost thought she had fainted. +</p> + +<p> +Before I had time to speak, she rose once more; and now her face was bathed in +blushes, her eyes swam with rising tears, and her lips trembled with emotion as +she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Lorrequer, what will you—what can you think of this? If +you but knew—;” and here she faltered and again grew pale, while I +with difficulty rising from the sofa, took her hand, and led her to the chair +beside it. +</p> + +<p> +“And may I not know?” said I; “may I not know, my +dear”—I am not sure I did not say dearest—“Miss +Bingham, when, perhaps, the knowledge might make me the happiest of +mortals?” +</p> + +<p> +This was a pretty plunge as a sequel to my late resolutions. She hid her face +between her hands, and sobbed for some seconds. +</p> + +<p> +“At least,” said I, “as that letter was destined for me but a +few moments since, I trust that you will let me hear its contents.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no—not now—not now,” said she entreatingly; and, +rising at the same time, she turned to leave the room. I still held her hand, +and pressed it within mine. I thought she returned the pressure. I leaned +forward to catch her eye, when the door was opened hastily, and a most +extraordinary figure presented itself. +</p> + +<p> +It was a short, fat man, with a pair of enormous moustaches, of a fiery red; +huge bushy whiskers of the same colour; a blue frock covered with braiding, and +decorated with several crosses and ribbons; tight pantaloons and Hessian boots, +with long brass spurs. He held a large gold-headed cane in his hand, and looked +about with an expression of very equivocal drollery, mingled with fear. +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask, sir,” said I, as this individual closed the door behind +him, “may I ask the reason for this intrusion?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, upon my conscience, I’ll do—I’m sure to pass +muster now,” said the well-known voice of Mr. O’Leary, whose +pleasant features began to dilate amid the forest of red hair he was disguised +in. “But I see you are engaged,” said he, with a sly look at Miss +Bingham, whom he had not yet recognised; “so I must contrive to hide +myself elsewhere, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is Miss Bingham,” said I, “who has been kind enough to +come here with her maid, to bring me some flowers. Pray present my respectful +compliments to Mrs. Bingham, and say how deeply I feel her most kind +attention.” +</p> + +<p> +Emily rose at the instant, and recovering her self-possession at once, +said— +</p> + +<p> +“You forget, Mr. Lorrequer, it is a secret from whom the flowers came; at +least mamma hoped to place them in your vases without you knowing. So, pray, +don’t speak of it—and I’m sure Mr. O’Leary will not +tell.” +</p> + +<p> +If Mr. O’Leary heard one word of this artful speech, I know not, but he +certainly paid no attention to it, nor the speaker, who left the room without +his appearing aware of it. +</p> + +<p> +“Now that she is gone—for which heaven be praised,” said I to +myself; “let me see what this fellow can mean.” +</p> + +<p> +As I turned from the door, I could scarcely avoid laughing aloud at the figure +before me. He stood opposite a large mirror, his hat on one side of his head, +one arm in his breast, and the other extended, leaning upon his stick; a look +of as much ferocity as such features could accomplish had been assumed, and his +whole attitude was a kind of caricature of a melo-dramatic hero in a German +drama. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, O’Leary, what is all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, hush,” said he, in a terrified whisper—“never +mention that name again, till we are over the frontier.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, man, explain—what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you guess,” said he drily. +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible; unless the affair at the saloon has induced you to take this +disguise, I cannot conceive the reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing farther from it, my dear friend; much worse than that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Out with it, then, at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s come—she’s here—in this very +house—No. 29, above the entre sol.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is here, in No. 29, above the entre sol?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, but Mrs. O’Leary herself. I was near saying bad luck to +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“And does she know you are here?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is what I can’t exactly say,” said he, “but she +has had the Livre des Voyageurs brought up to her room, and has been making +rather unpleasant inquiries for the proprietor of certain hieroglyphics +beginning with O, which have given me great alarm—the more, as all the +waiters have been sent for in turn, and subjected to long examination by her. +So I have lost no time, but, under the auspices of your friend Trevanion, have +become the fascinating figure you find me, and am now Compte O’Lieuki, a +Pole of noble family, banished by the Russian government, with a father in +Siberia, and all that; and I hope, by the end of the week, to be able to cheat +at ecarte, and deceive the very police itself.” +</p> + +<p> +The idea of O’Leary’s assuming such a metamorphosis was too absurd +not to throw me into a hearty fit of laughing, in which the worthy emigre +indulged also. +</p> + +<p> +“But why not leave this at once,” said I, “if you are so much +in dread of a recognition?” +</p> + +<p> +“You forget the trial,” added O’Leary, “I must be here +on the 18th or all my bail is forfeited.” +</p> + +<p> +“True—I had forgot that. Well, now, your plans?”— +</p> + +<p> +“Simply to keep very quiet here till the affair of the tribunal is over, +and then quit France at once. Meanwhile, Trevanion thinks that we may, by a +bold stratagem, send Mrs. O’Leary off on a wrong scent, and has requested +Mrs. Bingham to contrive to make her acquaintance, and ask her to tea in her +room, when she will see me, en Polonais, at a distance, you know—hear +something of my melancholy destiny from Trevanion—and leave the hotel +quite sure she has no claim on me. Meanwhile, some others of the party are to +mention incidentally having met Mr. O’Leary somewhere, or heard of his +decease, or any pleasant little incident that may occur to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“The plan is excellent,” said I, “for in all probability she +may never come in your way again, if sent off on a good errand this +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I’m thinking,” said O’Leary; +“and I am greatly disposed to let her hear that I’m with Belzoni in +Egypt, with an engagement to spend the Christmas with the Dey of Algiers. That +would give her a very pretty tour for the remainder of the year, and show her +the pyramids. But, tell me fairly, am I a good Pole?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather short,” said I, “and a little too fat, +perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“That comes from the dash of Tartar blood, nothing more; and my mother +was a Fin,” said he, “she’ll never ask whether from Carlow or +the Caucasus. How I revel in the thought, that I may smoke in company without a +breach of the unities. But I must go: there is a gentleman with a quinsey in +No. 9, that gives me a lesson in Polish this morning. So good-by, and +don’t forget to be well enough to-night, for you must be present at my +debut.” +</p> + +<p> +O’Leary had scarcely gone, when my thoughts reverted to Emily Bingham. I +was not such a coxcomb as to fancy her in love with me; yet certainly there was +something in the affair which looked not unlike it; and though, by such a +circumstance, every embarrassment which pressed upon me had become infinitely +greater, I could not dissemble from myself a sense of pleasure at the thought. +She was really a very pretty girl, and improved vastly upon acquaintance. +“Le absens ont toujours torts” is the truest proverb in any +language, and I felt it in its fullest force when Trevanion entered my room. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Lorrequer,” said he, “your time is certainly not +likely to hang heavily on your hands in Paris, if occupation will prevent it, +for I find you are just now booked for a new scrape.” +</p> + +<p> +“What can you mean?” said I, starting up. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, O’Leary, who has been since your illness, the constant +visiter at the Binghams—dining there every day, and spending his +evenings—has just told me that the mamma is only waiting for the arrival +of Sir Guy Lorrequer in Paris to open the trenches in all form; and from what +she has heard of Sir Guy, she deems it most likely he will give her every aid +and support to making you the husband of the fair Emily.” +</p> + +<p> +“And with good reason, too,” said I; “for if my uncle were +only given to understand that I had once gone far in my attentions, nothing +would induce him to break off the match. He was crossed in love himself when +young, and has made a score of people miserable since, in the benevolent idea +of marrying them against every obstacle.” +</p> + +<p> +“How very smart you have become,” said Trevanion, taking a look +round my room, and surveying in turn each of the new occupants. “You must +certainly reckon upon seeing your fair friend here, or all this propriete is +sadly wasted.” +</p> + +<p> +This was the time to explain all about Miss Bingham’s visit; and I did +so, of course omitting any details which might seem to me needless, or +involving myself in inconsistency. +</p> + +<p> +Trevanion listened patiently to the end—was silent for some +moments—then added— +</p> + +<p> +“And you never saw the letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not. It was burned before my eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think the affair looks very serious, Lorrequer. You may have won this +girl’s affections. It matters little whether the mamma be a hacknied +match-maker, or the cousin a bullying duellist. If the girl have a heart, and +that you have gained it”— +</p> + +<p> +“Then I must marry, you would say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly so—without the prompting of your worthy uncle, I see no +other course open to you without dishonour. My advice, therefore, is, +ascertain—and that speedily—how far your attentions have been +attended with the success you dread—and then decide at once. Are you able +to get as far as Mrs. Bingham’s room this morning? If so, come along. I +shall take all the frais of la chere mamma off your hands, while you talk to +the daughter; and half-an-hour’s courage and resolution will do it +all.” +</p> + +<p> +Having made the most effective toilet my means would permit, my right arm in a +sling, and my step trembling from weakness, I sallied forth with Trevanion to +make love with as many fears for the result as the most bashful admirer ever +experienced, when pressing his suit upon some haughty belle—but for a far +different reason. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch38" id="ch38"></a> CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br/> +THE PROPOSAL.</h2> + +<p> +On reaching Mrs. Bingham’s apartments, we found that she had just left +home to wait upon Mrs. O’Leary, and consequently, that Miss Bingham was +alone. Trevanion, therefore, having wished me a safe deliverance through my +trying mission, shook my hand warmly, and departed. +</p> + +<p> +I stood for some minutes irresolutely, with my hand upon the lock of the door. +To think that the next few moments may decide the fortune of one’s after +life, is a sufficiently anxious thought; but that your fate may be so decided, +by compelling you to finish in sorrow what you have begun in folly, is still +more insupportable. Such, then, was my condition. I had resolved within myself, +if the result of this meeting should prove that I had won Miss Bingham’s +affections, to propose for her at once in all form, and make her my wife. If, +on the other hand, I only found that she too had amused herself with a little +passing flirtation, why then, I was a free man once more: but, on catechising +myself a little closer, also, one somewhat disposed to make love de novo. +</p> + +<p> +With the speed of lightning, my mind ran over every passage of our +acquaintance—our first meeting—our solitary walks—our daily, +hourly associations—our travelling intimacy—the adventure at +Chantraine.—There was, it is true, nothing in all this which could +establish the fact of wooing, but every thing which should convince an old +offender like myself that the young lady was “en prise,” and that I +myself—despite my really strong attachment elsewhere—was not +entirely scathless. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said I, half aloud, as I once more reviewed the past, +“it is but another chapter in my history in keeping with all the +rest—one step has ever led me to a second, and so on to a third; what +with other men have passed for mere trifles, have ever with me become serious +difficulties, and the false enthusiasm with which I ever follow any object in +life, blinds me for the time, and mistaking zeal for inclination, I never feel +how little my heart is interested in success, till the fever of pursuit is +over.” +</p> + +<p> +These were pleasant thoughts for one about to throw himself at a pretty +girl’s feet, and pour out his “soul of love before her;” but +that with me was the least part of it. Curran, they say, usually picked up his +facts in a case from the opposite counsel’s statements; I always relied +for my conduct in carrying on any thing, to the chance circumstances of the +moment, and trusted to my animal spirits to give me an interest in whatever for +the time being engaged me. +</p> + +<p> +I opened the door. Miss Bingham was sitting at a table, her head leaning upon +her hands—some open letters which lay before her, evidently so occupying +her attention, that my approach was unheard. On my addressing her, she turned +round suddenly, and became at first deep scarlet, then pale as death: while, +turning to the table, she hurriedly threw her letters into a drawer, and +motioned me to a place beside her. +</p> + +<p> +After the first brief and common-place inquiry for my health, and hopes for my +speedy recovery, she became silent; and I too, primed with topics innumerable +to discuss—knowing how short my time might prove before Mrs. +Bingham’s return—could not say a word. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope, Mr. Lorrequer,” said she, at length, “that you have +incurred no risque by leaving your room so early.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not,” I replied, “but, even were there a certainty of +it, the anxiety I laboured under to see and speak with you alone, would have +overcome all fears on this account. Since this unfortunate business has +confined me to my chamber, I have done nothing but think over circumstances +which have at length so entirely taken possession of me, that I must, at any +sacrifice, have sought an opportunity to explain to you”—here Emily +looked down, and I continued—“I need scarcely say what my feelings +must long since have betrayed, that to have enjoyed the daily happiness of +living in your society, of estimating your worth, of feeling your fascinations, +were not the means most in request for him, who knew, too well, how little he +deserved, either by fortune or desert, to hope, to hope to make you his; and +yet, how little has prudence or caution to do with situations like this.” +She did not guess the animus of this speech. “I felt all I have +described; and yet, and yet, I lingered on, prizing too dearly the happiness of +the present hour, to risque it by any avowal of sentiments, which might have +banished me from your presence for ever. If the alteration of these hopes and +fears have proved too strong for my reason at last, I cannot help it; and this +it is which now leads me to make this avowal to you.” Emily turned her +head away from me; but her agitated manner showed how deeply my words had +affected her; and I too, now that I had finished, felt that I had been +“coming it rather strong.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hoped, Mr. Lorrequer,” said she, at length, “I hoped, I +confess, to have had an opportunity of speaking with you.” Then, thought +I, the game is over, and Bishop Luscombe is richer by five pounds, than I wish +him.—“Something, I know not what, in your manner, led me to +suspect that your affections might lean towards me; hints you have dropped, +and, now and then, your chance allusions strengthened the belief, and I +determined, at length, that no feeling of maidenly shame on my part should +endanger the happiness of either of us, and I determined to see you; this was +so difficult, that I wrote a letter, and that letter, which might have saved me +all distressing explanation, I burned before you this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, why, dearest girl,”—here was a plunge—“why, +if the letter could remove any misconstruction, or could be the means of +dispelling any doubt—why not let me see it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hear me out,” cried she, eagerly, and evidently not heeding my +interruption, “I determined if your affections were indeed”—a +flood of tears here broke forth, and drowned her words; her head sank between +her hands, and she sobbed bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“Corpo di Baccho!” said I to myself, “It is all over with me; +the poor girl is evidently jealous, and her heart will break.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dearest, dearest Emily,” said I, passing my arm round her, and +approaching my head close to her’s, “if you think that any other +love than yours could ever beat within this heart—that I could see you +hourly before me—live beneath your smile, and gaze upon your +beauty—and, still more than all—pardon the boldness of the +thought—feel that I was not indifferent to you.”— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! spare me this at least,” said she, turning round her tearful +eyes upon me, and looking most bewitchingly beautiful. “Have I then +showed you this plainly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dearest girl! That instinct which tells us we are loved has spoken +within me. And here in this beating heart”— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! say not more,” said she, “if I have, indeed, gained your +affections”— +</p> + +<p> +“If—if you have,” said I, clasping her to my heart, while she +continued to sob still violently, and I felt half disposed to blow my brains +out for my success. However, there is something in love-making as in +fox-hunting, which carries you along in spite of yourself; and I continued to +pour forth whole rhapsodies of love that the Pastor Fido could not equal. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough,” said she, “it is enough that you love me and that I +have encouraged your so doing. But oh! tell me once more, and think how much of +future happiness may rest upon your answer—tell me, may not this be some +passing attachment, which circumstances have created, and others may dispel? +Say, might not absence, time, or another more worthy”— +</p> + +<p> +This was certainly a very rigid cross-examination when I thought the trial was +over; and not being exactly prepared for it, I felt no other mode of reply than +pressing her taper fingers alternately to my lips, and muttering something that +might pass for a declaration of love unalterable, but, to my own ears, +resembled a lament on my folly. +</p> + +<p> +“She is mine now,” thought I, “so we must e’en make the +best of it; and truly she is a very handsome girl, though not a Lady Jane +Callonby. The next step is the mamma; but I do not anticipate much difficulty +in that quarter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me now,” said she, in a low and broken voice; “but +promise not to speak of this meeting to any one before we meet again. I have my +reasons; believe me they are sufficient ones, so promise me this before we +part.” +</p> + +<p> +Having readily given the pledge required, I again kissed her hand and bade +farewell, not a little puzzled the whole time at perceiving that ever since my +declaration and acceptance Emily seemed any thing but happy, and evidently +struggling against some secret feeling of which I knew nothing. +“Yes,” thought I, as I wended my way along the corridor, “the +poor girl is tremendously jealous, and I must have said may a thing during our +intimacy to hurt her. However, that is all past and gone; and now comes a new +character for me: my next appearance wil be ‘en bon mari.’” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch39" id="ch39"></a> CHAPTER XXXIX.<br/> +THOUGHTS UPON MATRIMONY IN GENERAL, AND IN THE ARMY IN PARTICULAR—THE +KNIGHT OF KERRY AND BILLY M’CABE.</h2> + +<p> +“So,” thought I, as I closed the door of my room behind me, +“I am accepted—the die is cast which makes me a Benedict: yet +heaven knows that never was a man less disposed to be over joyous at his good +fortune!” What a happy invention it were, if when adopting any road in +life, we could only manage to forget that we had ever contemplated any other! +It is the eternal looking back in this world that forms the staple of all our +misery; and we are but ill-requited for such unhappiness by the brightest +anticipations we can conjure up for the future. How much of all that +“past” was now to become a source of painful recollection, and to +how little of the future could I look forward with even hope! +</p> + +<p> +Our weaknesses are much more constantly the spring of all our annoyances and +troubles than even our vices. The one we have in some sort of subjection: we +are perfectly slaves to the others. This thought came home most forcibly to my +bosom, as I reflected upon the step which led me on imperceptibly to my present +embarrassment. “Well, c’est fini, now,” said I, drawing upon +that bountiful source of consolation ever open to the man who mars his +fortune—that “what is past can’t be amended;” which +piece of philosophy, as well as its twin brother, that “all will be the +same a hundred years hence,” have been golden rules to me from my +childhood. +</p> + +<p> +The transition from one mode of life to another perfectly different has ever +seemed to me a great trial of a man’s moral courage; besides that the +fact of quitting for ever any thing, no matter how insignificant or valueless, +is always attended with painful misgivings. My bachelor life had its share of +annoyances and disappointments, it is true; but, upon the whole it was a most +happy one—and now I was about to surrender it for ever, not yielding to +the impulse of affection and love for one without whom life were valueless to +me, but merely a recompense for the indulgence of that fatal habit I had +contracted of pursuing with eagerness every shadow that crossed my path. All my +early friends—all my vagrant fancies—all my daydreams of the future +I was now to surrender—for, what becomes of any man’s bachelor +friends when he is once married? Where are his rambles in high and bye-ways +when he has a wife? and what is left for anticipation after his wedding except, +perhaps, to speculate upon the arrangement of his funeral? To a military man +more than to any other these are serious thoughts. All the fascinations of an +army life, in war or peace, lie in the daily, hourly associations with your +brother officers—the morning cigar, the barrack-square lounge—the +afternoon ride—the game of billiards before dinner—the mess (that +perfection of dinner society)—the plans for the evening—the deviled +kidney at twelve—forming so many points of departure whence you sail out +upon your daily voyage through life. Versus those you have that awful +perversion of all that is natural—an officer’s wife. She has been a +beauty when young, had black eyes and high complexion, a good figure, rather +inclined to embonpoint, and a certain springiness in her walk, and a jauntiness +in her air, that are ever sure attractions to a sub in a marching regiment. She +can play backgammon, and sing “di tanti palpiti,” and, if an +Irishwoman, is certain to be able to ride a steeple-chase, and has an uncle a +lord, who (en parenthese) always turns out to be a creation made by King James +after his abdication. In conclusion, she breakfasts en papillote—wears +her shoes down at heel—calls every officer of the regiment by his +name—has a great taste for increasing his majesty’s lieges, and +delights in London porter. To this genus of Frow I have never ceased to +entertain the most thrilling abhorrence; and yet how often have I seen what +appeared to be pretty and interesting girls fall into something of this sort! +and how often have I vowed any fate to myself rather than become the husband of +a baggage-waggon wife! +</p> + +<p> +Had all my most sanguine hopes promised realizing—had my suit with Lady +Jane been favourable, I could scarcely have bid adieu to my bachelor life +without a sigh. No prospect of future happiness can ever perfectly exclude all +regret at quitting our present state for ever. I am sure if I had been a +caterpillar, it would have been with a heavy heart that I would have donned my +wings as a butterfly. Now the metamorphosis was reversed: need it be wondered +if I were sad? +</p> + +<p> +So completely was I absorbed in my thoughts upon this matter, that I had not +perceived the entrance of O’Leary and Trevanion, who, unaware of my being +in the apartment, as I was stretched upon a sofa in a dark corner, drew their +chairs towards the fire and began chatting. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know, Mr. Trevanion,” said O’Leary, “I am half +afraid of this disguise of mine. I sometimes think I am not like a Pole; and if +she should discover me”— +</p> + +<p> +“No fear of that in the world; your costume is perfect, your beard +unexceptionable. I could, perhaps, have desired a little less paunch; but +then”— +</p> + +<p> +“That comes of fretting, as Falstaff says; and you must not forget that I +am banished from my country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, as to your conversation, I should advise you saying very +little—not one word in English. You may, if you like, call in the +assistance of Irish when hard pressed? +</p> + +<p> +“I have my fears on that score. There is no knowing where that might lead +to discovery. You know the story of the Knight of Kerry and Billy +McCabe?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear I must confess my ignorance—I have never heard of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then may be you never knew Giles Daxon?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not had that pleasure either.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord bless me, how strange that is! I thought he was better known than +the Duke of Wellington or the travelling piper. Well, I must tell you the +story, for it has a moral, too—indeed several morals; but you’ll +find that out for yourself. Well, it seems that one day the Knight of Kerry was +walking along the Strand in London, killing an hour’s time, till the +house was done prayers, and Hume tired of hearing himself speaking; his eye was +caught by an enormous picture displayed upon the wall of a house, representing +a human figure covered with long dark hair, with huge nails upon his hands, and +a most fearful expression of face. At first the Knight thought it was Dr. +Bowring; but on coming nearer he heard a man with a scarlet livery and a cocked +hat, call out, ‘Walk in, ladies and gentlemen—the most vonderful +curiosity ever exhibited—only one shilling—the vild man from +Chippoowango, in Africay—eats raw wittles without being cooked, and many +other surprising and pleasing performances.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The knight paid his money, and was admitted. At first the crowd +prevented his seeing any thing—for the place was full to suffocation, and +the noise awful—for, besides the exclamations and applause of the +audience, there were three barrel-organs, playing ‘Home, sweet +Home!’ and ‘Cherry Ripe,’ and the wild man himself +contributed his share to the uproar. At last, the Knight obtained, by dint of +squeezing, and some pushing a place in the front, when, to his very great +horror, he beheld a figure that far eclipsed the portrait without doors. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a man nearly naked, covered with long, shaggy hair, that grew +even over his nose and cheek bones. He sprang about, sometimes on his feet, +sometimes, all-fours, but always uttering the most fearful yells, and glaring +upon the crowd, in a manner that was really dangerous. The Knight did not feel +exactly happy at the whole proceeding, and began heartily to wish himself back +in the ‘House,’ even upon a committee of privileges, when, +suddenly, the savage gave a more frantic scream than before, and seized upon a +morsel of raw beef, which a keeper extended to him upon a long fork, like a +tandem whip—he was not safe, it appears, at close quarters;—this he +tore to pieces eagerly and devoured in the most voracious manner, amid great +clapping of hands, and other evidences of satisfaction from the audience. +I’ll go, now, thought the Knight: for, God knows whether, in his hungry +moods, he might not fancy to conclude his dinner by a member of parliament. +Just at this instant, some sounds struck upon his ear that surprised him not a +little. He listened more attentively; and, conceive if you can, his amazement, +to find that, amid his most fearful cries, and wild yells, the savage was +talking Irish. Laugh, if you like; but it’s truth I am telling you; +nothing less than Irish. There he was, jumping four feet high in the air, +eating his raw meat: pulling out his hair by handfuls; and, amid all this, +cursing the whole company to his heart’s content, in as good Irish as +ever was heard in Tralee. Now, though the Knight had heard of red Jews and +white Negroes, he had never happened to read any account of an African +Irishman; so, he listened very closely, and by degrees, not only the words were +known to him, but the very voice was familiar. At length, something he heard, +left no further doubt upon his mind, and, turning to the savage, he addressed +him in Irish, at the same time fixing a look of most scrutinizing import upon +him. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Who are you, you scoundrel’ said the Knight. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Billy M’Cabe your honour.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘And what do you mean by playing off these tricks here, instead of +earning your bread like an honest man?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Whisht,’ said Billy, ‘and keep the secret. I’m +earning the rent for your honour. One must do many a queer thing that pays two +pound ten an acre for bad land.’ +</p> + +<p> +“This was enough: the Knight wished Billy every success, and left him +amid the vociferous applause of a well satisfied audience. This adventure, it +seems, has made the worthy Knight a great friend to the introduction of poor +laws; for, he remarks very truly, ‘more of Billy’s countrymen might +take a fancy to a savage life, if the secret was found out.’” +</p> + +<p> +It was impossible for me to preserve my incognito, as Mr. O’Leary +concluded his story, and I was obliged to join in the mirth of Trevanion, who +laughed loud and long as he finished it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch40" id="ch40"></a> CHAPTER XL.<br/> +A REMINISCENCE.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus18"></a> +<a href="images/fig18.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig18.jpg" width="466" height="600" alt="Illustration: Harry +Proves Himself a Man of Metal" /></a> +<p class="caption">Harry Proves Himself a Man of Metal</p> +</div> + +<p> +O’Leary and Trevanion had scarcely left the room when the waiter entered +with two letters—the one bore a German post-mark, and was in the +well-known hand of Lady Callonby—the other in a writing with which I was +no less familiar—that of Emily Bingham. +</p> + +<p> +Let any one who has been patient enough to follow me through these +“Confessions,” conceive my agitation at this moment. There lay my +fate before me, coupled, in all likelihood, with a view of what it might have +been under happier auspices—at least so in anticipation did I read the +two unopened epistles. My late interview with Miss Bingham left no doubt upon +my mind that I had secured her affections; and acting in accordance with the +counsel of Trevanion, no less than of my own sense of right, I resolved upon +marrying her, with what prospect of happiness I dared not to think of! +</p> + +<p> +Alas! and alas! there is no infatuation like the taste for +flirtation—mere empty, valueless, heartless flirtation. You hide the +dice-box and the billiard queue, lest your son become a gambler—you put +aside the racing calendar, lest he imbibe a jockey predilection—but you +never tremble at his fondness for white muslin and a satin slipper, far more +dangerous tastes though they be, and infinitely more perilous to a man’s +peace and prosperity than all the “queens of trumps” that ever +figured, whether on pasteboard or the Doncaster. “Woman’s my +weakness, yer honor,” said an honest Patlander, on being charged before +the lord mayor with having four wives living; and without having any such +“Algerine act” upon my conscience, I must, I fear, enter a somewhat +similar plea for my downfallings, and avow in humble gratitude, that I have +scarcely had a misfortune through life unattributable to them in one way or +another. And this I say without any reference to country, class, or complexion, +“black, brown or fair,” from my first step forth into life, a raw +sub. in the gallant 4—th, to this same hour, I have no other avowal, no +other confession to make. “Be always ready with the pistol,” was +the dying advice of an Irish statesman to his sons: mine, in a similar +circumstance, would rather be “Gardez vous des femmes,” and more +especially if they be Irish. +</p> + +<p> +There is something almost treacherous in the facility with which an Irish girl +receives your early attentions and appears to like them, that invariably turns +a young fellow’s head very long before he has any prospect of touching +her heart. She thinks it so natural to be made love to, that there is neither +any affected coyness nor any agitated surprise. She listens to your declaration +of love as quietly as the chief justice would to one of law, and refers the +decision to a packed jury of her relatives, who rarely recommend you to mercy. +Love and fighting, too, are so intimately united in Ireland, that a courtship +rarely progresses without at least one exchange of shots between some of the +parties concerned. My first twenty-four hours in Dublin is so pleasantly +characteristic of this that I may as well relate it here, while the subject is +before us; besides, as these “Confessions” are intended as warnings +and guides to youth, I may convey a useful lesson, showing why a man should not +“make love in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +It was upon a raw, cold, drizzling morning in February, 18—, that our +regiment landed on the North-wall from Liverpool, whence we had been hurriedly +ordered to repress some riots and disturbances then agitating Dublin. +</p> + +<p> +We marched to the Royal Barracks, our band playing Patrick’s Day, to the +very considerable admiration of as naked a population as ever loved music. The +—th dragoons were at the same time quartered there—right pleasant +jovial fellows, who soon gave us to understand that the troubles were over +before we arrived, and that the great city authorities were now returning +thanks for their preservation from fire and sword, by a series of +entertainments of the most costly, but somewhat incongruous kind—the +company being scarce less melee than the dishes. Peers and playactors, judges +and jailors, archbishops, tailors, attorneys, ropemakers and apothecaries, all +uniting in the festive delight of good feeding, and drinking the +“glorious memory”—but of whom half the company knew not, only +surmising “it was something agin the papists.” You may smile, but +these were pleasant times, and I scarcely care to go back there since they were +changed. But to return. The —th had just received an invitation to a +ball, to be given by the high sheriff, and to which they most considerately +said we should also be invited. This negociation was so well managed that +before noon we all received our cards from a green liveried youth, mounted on a +very emaciated pony—the whole turn-out not auguring flatteringly of the +high sheriff’s taste in equipage. +</p> + +<p> +We dined with the —th, and, as customary before going to an evening +party, took the “other bottle” of claret that lies beyond the +frontier of prudence. In fact, from the lieutenant-colonel down to the +newly-joined ensign, there was not a face in the party that did not betray +“signs of the times” that boded most favourably for the mirth of +the sheriff’s ball. We were so perfectly up to the mark, that our major, +a Connemara man, said, as we left the mess-room, “a liqueure glass would +spoil us.” +</p> + +<p> +In this acme of our intellectual wealth, we started about eleven o’clock +upon every species of conveyance that chance could press into the service. Of +hackney coaches there were few—but in jingles, noddies, and +jaunting-cars, with three on a side and “one in the well,” we +mustered strong—Down Barrack-street we galloped, the mob cheering us, we +laughing, and I’m afraid shouting a little, too—the watchmen +springing their rattles, as if instinctively at noise, and the whole population +up and awake, evidently entertaining a high opinion of our convivial qualities. +Our voices became gradually more decorous, however, as we approached the more +civilized quarter of the town; and with only the slight stoppage of the +procession to pick up an occasional dropper-off, as he lapsed from the seat of +a jaunting-car, we arrived at length at our host’s residence, somewhere +in Sackville-street. +</p> + +<p> +Had our advent conferred the order of knighthood upon the host, he could not +have received us with more “empressement.” He shook us all in turn +by the hand, to the number of eight and thirty, and then presented us seriatim +to his spouse, a very bejewelled lady of some forty years—who, what +between bugles, feathers, and her turban, looked excessively like a Chinese +pagoda upon a saucer. The rooms were crowded to suffocation—the noise +awful—and the company crushing and elbowing rather a little more than you +expect where the moiety are of the softer sex. However, “on +s’habitue a tout,” sayeth the proverb, and with truth, for we all +so perfectly fell in with the habits of the place, that ere half an hour, we +squeezed, ogled, leered, and drank champagne like the rest of the corporation. +</p> + +<p> +“Devilish hot work, this,” said the colonel, as he passed me with +two rosy-cheeked, smiling ladies on either arm; “the mayor—that +little fellow in the punch-coloured shorts—has very nearly put me hors de +combat with champagne; take care of him, I advise you.” +</p> + +<p> +Tipsy as I felt myself, I was yet sufficiently clear to be fully alive to the +drollery of the scene before me. Flirtations that, under other circumstances, +would demand the secrecy and solitude of a country green lane, or some garden +bower, were here conducted in all the open effrontery of wax lights and +lustres; looks were interchanged, hands were squeezed, and soft things +whispered, and smiles returned; till the intoxication of “punch +negus” and spiced port, gave way to the far greater one of bright looks +and tender glances. Quadrilles and country dances—waltzing there was +none, (perhaps all for the best)—whist, backgammon, loo—unlimited +for uproar—sandwiches, and warm liquors, employed us pretty briskly till +supper was announced, when a grand squeeze took place on the stairs—the +population tending thitherward with an eagerness that a previous starvation of +twenty-four hours could alone justify. Among this dense mass of moving muslin, +velvet and broad-cloth, I found myself chaperoning an extremely tempting little +damsel, with a pair of laughing blue eyes and dark eyelashes, who had been +committed to my care and guidance for the passage. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Moriarty, Mr. Lorrequer,” said an old lady in green and +spangles, who I afterwards found was the lady mayoress. +</p> + +<p> +“The nicest girl in the room,” said a gentleman with a Tipperary +accent, “and has a mighty nice place near Athlone.” +</p> + +<p> +The hint was not lost upon me, and I speedily began to faire l’amiable to +my charge; and before we reached the supper room, learned certain particulars +of her history, which I have not yet forgot. She was, it seems, sister to a +lady then in the room, the wife of an attorney, who rejoiced in the pleasing +and classical appellation of Mr. Mark Anthony Fitzpatrick; the aforesaid Mark +Anthony being a tall, raw-boned, black-whiskered, ill-looking dog, that from +time to time contrived to throw very uncomfortable looking glances at me and +Mary Anne, for she was so named, the whole time of supper. After a few minutes, +however, I totally forgot him, and, indeed, every thing else, in the +fascination of my fair companion. She shared her chair with me, upon which I +supported her by my arm passed round the back; we eat our pickled salmon, +jelly, blanc mange, cold chicken, ham, and custard; off the same plate, with an +occasional squeeze of the finger, as our hands met—her eyes making sad +havoc with me all the while, as I poured my tale of love—love, lasting, +burning, all-consuming—into her not unwilling ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! now, ye’r not in earnest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Mary Anne, by all that’s”— +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there now, don’t swear, and take care—sure Mark +Anthony is looking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mark Anthony be—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! how passionate you are; I’m sure I never could live easy with +you. There, now, give me some sponge cake, and don’t be squeezing me, or +they’ll see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to my heart, dearest girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Och, it’s cheese you’re giving me,” said she, with a +grimace that nearly cured my passion. +</p> + +<p> +“A cottage, a hut, with you—with you,” said I, in a cadence +that I defy Macready to rival—“what is worldly splendour, or the +empty glitter of rank.” +</p> + +<p> +I here glanced at my epaulettes, upon which I saw her eyes rivetted. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t the ginger beer beautiful,” said she, emptying a glass +of champagne. +</p> + +<p> +Still I was not to be roused from my trance, and continued my courtship as +warmly as ever. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you’ll come home now,” said a gruff voice behind +Mary Anne. +</p> + +<p> +I turned and perceived Mark Anthony with a grim look of peculiar import. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mark dear, I’m engaged to dance another set with this +gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ye are, are ye?” replied Mark, eyeing me askance. “Troth and +I think the gentleman would be better if he went off to his flea-bag +himself.” +</p> + +<p> +In my then mystified intellect this west country synonyme for a bed a little +puzzled me. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes sir, the lady is engaged to me: have you any thing to say to +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing at present, at all,” said Mark, almost timidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh dear, oh dear,” sobbed Mary Anne; “they’re going to +fight, and he’ll be killed—I know he will.” +</p> + +<p> +For which of us this fate was destined, I stopped not to consider, but amid a +very sufficient patting upon the back, and thumping between the shoulders, +bestowed by members of the company who approved of my proceedings. The three +fiddles, the flute, and bassoon, that formed our band, being by this time +sufficiently drunk, played after a fashion of their own, which by one of those +strange sympathies of our nature, imparted its influence to our legs, and a +country dance was performed in a style of free and easy gesticulation that +defies description. At the end of eighteen couple, tired of my +exertions—and they were not slight—I leaned my back against the +wall of the room, which I now, for the first time, perceived was covered with a +very peculiar and novel species of hanging—no less than a kind of rough, +green baize cloth, that moved and floated at every motion of the air. I paid +little attention to this, till suddenly turning my head, something gave way +behind it. I felt myself struck upon the back of the neck, and fell forward +into the room, covered by a perfect avalanche of fenders, fire-irons, +frying-pans, and copper kettles, mingled with the lesser artillery of small +nails, door keys, and holdfasts. There I lay amid the most vociferous mirth I +ever listened to, under the confounded torrent of ironmongery that half-stunned +me. The laughter over, I was assisted to rise, and having drank about a pint of +vinegar, and had my face and temples washed in strong whiskey punch—the +allocation of the fluids being mistaken, I learned that our host, the high +sheriff, was a celebrated tin and iron man, and that his salles de reception +were no other than his magazine of metals, and that to conceal the well filled +shelves from the gaze of his aristocratic guests, they were clothed in the +manner related; which my unhappy head, by some misfortune, displaced, and thus +brought on a calamity scarcely less afflicting to him than to myself. I should +scarcely have stopped to mention this here, were it not that Mary Anne’s +gentle nursing of me in my misery went far to complete what her fascination had +begun; and although she could not help laughing at the occurrence, I forgave +her readily for her kindness. +</p> + +<p> +“Remember,” said I, trying to ogle through a black eye, painted by +the angle of a register grate—“remember, Mary Anne, I am to see you +home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! dear, sir, sure I don’t know how you can manage +it—” +</p> + +<p> +Here Mark Anthony’s entrance cut short this speech, for he came to +declare that some of the officers had taken his coach, and was, as might be +supposed, in a towering passion. +</p> + +<p> +“If, sir,” said I, with an air of the most balmy +courtesy—“If I can be of any use in assisting you to see your +friends home—” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! then, ye’r a nice looking article to see ladies home. I wish +you seen yourself this minute,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +As I felt it would be no breach of the unities—time, place, and every +thing considered—to smash his skull, I should certainly have proceeded to +do so, had not a look of the most imploring kind from Mary Anne restrained me. +By this time, he had taken her under the arm, and was leading her away. I stood +irresolute, till a glance from my charmer caught me; when I rallied at once, +and followed them down stairs. Here the scene was the full as amusing as above; +the cloaking, shawling, shoeing, &c., of the ladies being certainly as +mirth-moving a process as I should wish to see. Here were mothers trying to +collect their daughters, as a hen her chickens, and as in that case, the +pursuit of one usually lost all the others; testy papas swearing, lovers +leering, as they twisted the boas round the fair throats of their sweethearts; +vows of love, mingling with lamentations for a lost slipper, or a stray mantle. +Sometimes the candles were extinguished, and the melee became greater, till the +order and light were restored together. Meanwhile, each of our fellows had +secured his fair one, save myself, and I was exposed to no small ridicule for +my want of savoir faire. Nettled at this, I made a plunge to the corner of the +room, where Mary Anne was shawling; I recognized her pink sash, threw her cloak +over her shoulders, and at the very moment that Mark Anthony drew his +wife’s arm within his, I performed the same by my friend, and followed +them to the door. Here, the grim brother-in-law turned round to take Mary +Anne’s arm, and seeing her with me, merely gave a kind of hoarse chuckle, +and muttered, “Very well, sir: upon my conscience you will have it, I +see.” During this brief interval, so occupied was I in watching him, that +I never once looked in my fair friend’s face; but the gentle squeeze of +her arm, as she leaned upon me, assured me that I had her approval of what I +was doing. +</p> + +<p> +What were the precise train of my thoughts, and what the subjects of +conversation between us, I am unfortunately now unable to recollect. It is +sufficient to remember, that I could not believe five minutes had elapsed, when +we arrived at York-street. “Then you confess you love me,” said I, +as I squeezed her arm to my side. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, by this kiss,” said I, “I swear, never to +relinquish.”— +</p> + +<p> +What I was about to add, I am sure I know not; but true it is, that a certain +smacking noise here attracted Mr. Mark Anthony’s attention, who started +round, looked as full in the face, and then gravely added, “Enough is as +good as a feast. I wish you pleasant drames, Mr. Larry Kar, if that’s +your name; and you’ll hear from me in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“I intend it,” said I. “Good night, dearest; think +of—” The slam of the street door in my face spoiled the peroration, +and I turned towards home. +</p> + +<p> +By the time I reached the barracks, the united effects of the champagne, +sherry, and Sheffield iron, had, in a good measure subsided, and my head had +become sufficiently clear to permit a slight retrospect of the evening’s +amusement. +</p> + +<p> +From two illusions I was at least awakened:—First, the high +sheriff’s ball was not the most accurate representation of high society; +secondly, I was not deeply enamoured of Mary Anne Moriarty. Strange as it may +seem, and how little soever the apparent connexion between those two facts, the +truth of one had a considerable influence in deciding the other. +N’importe, said I, the thing is over; it was rather good fun, too, upon +the whole—saving the “chute des casseroles;” and as to the +lady, she must have seen it was a joke as well as myself. At least, so I am +decided it shall be; and as there was no witness to our conversation, the thing +is easily got out of. +</p> + +<p> +The following day, as I was dressing to ride out, my servant announced no less +a person than Mr. Mark Anthony Fitzpatrick, who said “that he came upon a +little business, and must see me immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Fitzpatrick, upon being announced, speedily opened his negociation by +asking in very terse and unequivocal phrase, my intentions regarding his +sister-in-law. After professing the most perfect astonishment at the question, +and its possible import, I replied, that she was a most charming person, with +whom I intended to have nothing whatever to do. +</p> + +<p> +“And maybe you never proposed for her at the ball last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Propose for a lady at a ball the first time I ever met her!” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so. Can you carry your memory so far back? or, perhaps I had better +refresh it;” and he here repeated the whole substance of my conversation +on the way homeward, sometimes in the very words I used. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear sir, the young lady could never have supposed I used such +language as this you have repeated?” +</p> + +<p> +“So, then, you intend to break off? Well, then, it’s right to tell +you that you’re in a very ugly scrape, for it was my wife you took home +last night—not Miss Moriarty; and I leave you to choose at your leisure +whether you’d rather be defendant in a suit for breach of promise or +seduction; and, upon my conscience, I think it’s civil in me to give you +a choice.” +</p> + +<p> +What a pretty disclosure was here! So that while I was imaging myself squeezing +the hand and winning the heart of the fair Mary Anne, I was merely making a +case of strong evidence for a jury, that might expose me to the world, and half +ruin me in damages. There was but one course open—to make a fight for it; +and, from what I saw of my friend Mark Anthony, this did not seem difficult. +</p> + +<p> +I accordingly assumed a high tone—laughed at the entire affair—said +it was a “way we had in the army”—that “we never meant +any thing by it,” &c. &c. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes I perceived the bait was taking. Mr. Fitzpatrick’s west +country blood was up: all thought of the legal resource was abandoned; and he +flung out of the room to find a friend, I having given him the name of +“one of ours” as mine upon the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +Very little time was lost, for before three o’clock that afternoon a +meeting was fixed for the following morning at the North Bull; and I had the +satisfaction of hearing that I only escaped the malignant eloquence of Holmes +in the King’s Bench, to be “blazed” at by the best shot on +the western circuit. The thought was no way agreeable, and I indemnified myself +for the scrape by a very satisfactory anathema upon the high sheriff and his +ball, and his confounded saucepans; for to the lady’s sympathy for my +sufferings I attributed much of my folly. +</p> + +<p> +At eight the next morning I found myself standing with Curzon and the doctor +upon that bleak portion of her majesty’s dominion they term the North +Bull, waiting in a chilly rain, and a raw fog, till it pleased Mark Anthony +Fitzpatrick, to come and shoot me—such being the precise terms of our +combat, in the opinion of all parties. +</p> + +<p> +The time, however, passed on, and half-past eight, three quarters, and at last +nine o’clock, without his appearing; when, just as Curzon had resolved +upon our leaving the ground, a hack jaunting-car was seen driving at full speed +along the road near us. It came nearer and at length drew up; two men leaped +off and came towards us; one of whom, as he came forward, took off his hat +politely, and introduced himself as Mr. O’Gorman, the fighting friend of +Mark Anthony. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a mighty unpleasant business I’m come upon, +gentlemen,” said he, “Mr. Fitzpatrick has been unavoidedly +prevented from having the happiness to meet you this morning—” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you can’t expect us, sir, to dance attendance upon him here +to-morrow,” said Curzon, interrupting. +</p> + +<p> +“By no manner of means,” replied the other, placidly; “for it +would be equally inconvenient for him to be here then. But I have only to say, +maybe you’d have the kindness to waive all etiquette, and let me stand in +his place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly and decidedly not,” said Curzon. “Waive +etiquette!—why, sir, we have no quarrel with you; never saw you +before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, isn’t this hard?” said Mr. O’Gorman, +addressing his friend, who stood by with a pistol-case under his arm; +“but I told Mark that I was sure they’d be standing upon punctilio, +for they were English. Well, sir,” said he, turning towards Curzon, +“there’s but one way to arrange it now, that I see. Mr. +Fitzpatrick, you must know, was arrested this morning for a trifle of £140. If +you or your friend there, will join us in the bail we can get him out, and +he’ll fight you in the morning to your satisfaction.” +</p> + +<p> +When the astonishment this proposal had created subsided, we assured Mr. +O’Gorman that we were noways disposed to pay such a price for our +amusement—a fact that seemed considerably to surprise both him and his +friend—and adding, that to Mr. Fitzpatrick personally, we should feel +bound to hold ourselves pledged at a future period, we left the ground, Curzon +laughing heartily at the original expedient thus suggested, and I inwardly +pronounced a most glowing eulogy on the law of imprisonment for debt. +</p> + +<p> +Before Mr. Fitzpatrick obtained the benefit of the act, we were ordered abroad, +and I have never since heard of him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch41" id="ch41"></a> CHAPTER XLI.<br/> +THE TWO LETTERS.</h2> + +<p> +From the digression of the last chapter I was recalled by the sight of the two +letters which lay during my reverie unopened before me. I first broke the seal +of Lady Callonby’s epistle, which ran thus: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Munich, La Croix Blanche, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“My dear Mr. Lorrequer—I have just heard from Kilkee, that you are +at length about to pay us your long promised visit, and write these few lines +to beg that before leaving Paris you will kindly execute for me the commissions +of which I enclose a formidable list, or at least as many of them as you can +conveniently accomplish. Our stay here now will be short, that it will require +all your despatch to overtake us before reaching Milan, Lady Jane’s +health requiring an immediate change of climate. Our present plans are, to +winter in Italy, although such will interfere considerably with Lord Callonby, +who is pressed much by his friends to accept office. However, all this and our +other gossip I reserve for our meeting. Meanwhile, adieu, and if any of my +tasks bore you, omit them at once, except the white roses and the Brussels +veil, which Lady Jane is most anxious for. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Sincerely yours,<br/> +“Charlotte Callonby.” +</p> + +<p> +How much did these few and apparently common-place lines convey to me? First, +my visit was not only expected, but actually looked forward to, +canvassed—perhaps I might almost whisper to myself the +flattery—wished for. Again, Lady Jane’s health was spoken of as +precarious, less actual illness—I said to myself—than mere delicacy +requiring the bluer sky and warmer airs of Italy. Perhaps her spirits were +affected—some mental malady—some ill-placed passion—que sais +je? In fact my brain run on so fast in its devisings, that by a quick process, +less logical than pleasing, I satisfied myself that the lovely Lady Jane +Callonby was actually in love, with whom let the reader guess at. And Lord +Callonby too, about to join the ministry—well, all the better to have +one’s father-in-law in power—promotion is so cursed slow now +a-days. And lastly, the sly allusion to the commissions—the mechancete of +introducing her name to interest me. With such materials as these to build +upon, frail as they may seem to others, I found no difficulty in regarding +myself as the dear friend of the family, and the acknowledged suitor of Lady +Jane. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst, however, of all my self-gratulation, my eye fell upon the letter +of Emily Bingham, and I suddenly remembered how fatal to all such happy +anticipations it might prove. I tore it open in passionate haste and +read— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“My dear Mr. Lorrequer—As from the interview we have had this +morning I am inclined to believe that I have gained your affections, I think +that I should ill requite such a state of your feeling for me, were I to +conceal that I cannot return you mine—in fact they are not mine to +bestow. This frank avowal, whatever pain it may have cost me, I think I owe to +you to make. You will perhaps say, the confession should have been earlier; to +which I reply, it should have been so, had I known, or even guessed at the +nature of your feelings for me. For—and I write it in all truth, and +perfect respect for you—I only saw in your attentions the flirting habits +of a man of the world, with a very uninformed and ignorant girl of eighteen, +with whom as it was his amusement to travel, he deemed it worth his while to +talk. I now see, and bitterly regret my error, yet deem it better to make this +painful confession than suffer you to remain in a delusion which may involve +your happiness in the wreck of mine. I am most faithfully your friend, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Emily Bingham.” +</p> + +<p> +What a charming girl she is, I cried, as I finished the letter; how full of +true feeling, how honourably, how straight-forward: and yet it is devilish +strange how cunningly she played her part—and it seems now that I never +did touch her affections; Master Harry, I begin to fear you are not altogether +the awful lady-killer you have been thinking. Thus did I meditate upon this +singular note—my delight at being once more “free” mingling +with some chagrin that I was jockied, and by a young miss of eighteen, too. +Confoundedly disagreeable if the mess knew it, thought I. Per Baccho—how +they would quiz upon my difficulty to break off a match, when the lady was only +anxious to get rid of me. +</p> + +<p> +This affair must never come to their ears, or I am ruined; and now, the sooner +all negociations are concluded the better. I must obtain a meeting with Emily. +Acknowledge the truth and justice of all her views, express my deep regret at +the issue of the affair, slily hint that I have been merely playing her own +game back upon her; for it would be the devil to let her go off with the idea +that she had singed me, yet never caught fire herself; so that we both shall +draw stakes, and part friends. +</p> + +<p> +This valiant resolution taken, I wrote a very short note, begging an interview, +and proceeded to make as formidable a toilet as I could for the forthcoming +meeting; before I had concluded which, a verbal answer by her maid informed me, +that “Miss Bingham was alone, and ready to receive me.” +</p> + +<p> +As I took my way along the corridor, I could not help feeling that among all my +singular scrapes and embarassing situations through life, my present mission +was certainly not the least—the difficulty, such as it was, being +considerably increased by my own confounded “amour propre,” that +would not leave me satisfied with obtaining my liberty, if I could not insist +upon coming off scathless also. In fact, I was not content to evacuate the +fortress, if I were not to march out with all the honours of war. This feeling +I neither attempt to palliate nor defend, I merely chronicle it as, are too +many of these confessions, a matter of truth, yet not the less a subject for +sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +My hand was upon the lock of the door. I stopped, hesitated, and listened. I +certainly heard something. Yes, it is too true—she is sobbing. What a +total overthrow to all my selfish resolves, all my egotistical plans, did that +slight cadence give. She was crying—her tears for the bitter pain she +concluded I was suffering—mingling doubtless with sorrow for her own +sources of grief—for it was clear to me that whoever may have been my +favoured rival, the attachment was either unknown to, or unsanctioned by the +mother. I wished I had not listened; all my determinations were completely +routed and as I opened the door I felt my heart beating almost audibly against +my side. +</p> + +<p> +In a subdued half-light—tempered through the rose-coloured curtains, with +a small sevres cup of newly-plucked moss-roses upon the table—sat, or +rather leaned, Emily Bingham, her face buried in her hands as I entered. She +did not hear my approach, so that I had above a minute to admire the graceful +character of her head, and the fine undulating curve of her neck and shoulders, +before I spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Bingham,” said I— +</p> + +<p> +She started—looked up—her dark blue eyes, brilliant though tearful, +were fixed upon me for a second, as if searching my very inmost thoughts. She +held out her hand, and turning her head aside, made room for me on the sofa +beside her. Strange girl, thought I, that in the very moment of breaking with a +man for ever, puts on her most fascinating toilette—arrays herself in her +most bewitching manner, and gives him a reception only calculated to turn his +head, and render him ten times more in love than ever. Her hand, which remained +still in mine, was burning as if in fever, and the convulsive movement of her +neck and shoulders showed me how much this meeting cost her. We were both +silent, till at length, feeling that any chance interruption might leave us as +far as ever from understanding each other, I resolved to begin. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, dear Emily,” I said, “do not I entreat of you add +to the misery I am this moment enduring by letting me see you thus. Whatever +your wrongs towards me, this is far too heavy a retribution. My object was +never to make you wretched, if I am not to obtain the bliss, to strive and make +you happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Harry”—this was the first time she had ever so called +me—“how like you, to think of me—of me, at such a time, as if +I was not the cause of all our present unhappiness—but not wilfully, not +intentionally. Oh, no, no—your attentions—the flattery of your +notice, took me at once, and, in the gratification of my self-esteem, I forgot +all else. I heard, too, that you were engaged to another, and believing, as I +did, that you were trifling with my affections, I spared no effort to win +your’s. I confess it, I wished this with all my soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said I, “that you have gained +them”—Here was a pretty sequel to my well matured +plans!—“And now Emily”— +</p> + +<p> +“But have I really done so?” said she, hurriedly turning round and +fixing her large full eyes upon me, while one of her hands played convulsively +through my hair—“have I your heart? your whole heart?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you doubt it, dearest,” said I, passionately pressing her to +my bosom; and at the same time muttering, “What the devil’s in the +wind now; we are surely not going to patch up our separation, and make love in +earnest.” +</p> + +<p> +There she lay, her head upon my shoulder, her long, brown, waving ringlets +falling loosely across my face and on my bosom, her hand in mine. What were her +thoughts I cannot guess—mine, God forgive me, were a fervent wish either +for her mother’s appearance, or that the hotel would suddenly take fire, +or some other extensive calamity arise to put the finishing stroke to this +embarassing situation. +</p> + +<p> +None of these, however, were destined to occur; and Emily lay still and +motionless as she was, scarce seeming to breathe, and pale as death. What can +this mean, said I, surely this is not the usual way to treat with a rejected +suitor; if it be, why then, by Jupiter the successful one must have rather the +worst of it—and I fervently hope that Lady Jane be not at this moment +giving his conge to some disappointed swain. She slowly raised her long, black +fringed eyelids, and looked into my face, with an expression at once so tender +and so plaintive, that I felt a struggle within myself whether to press her to +my heart, or—what the deuce was the alternative. I hope my reader knows, +for I really do not. And after all, thought I, if we are to marry, I am only +anticipating a little; and if not, why then a “chaste salute,” as +Winifred Jenkins calls it, she’ll be none the worse for. Acting at once +upon this resolve, I leaned downwards, and passing back her ringlets from her +now flushed cheek, I was startled by my name, which I heard called several +times in the corridor. The door at the same instant was burst suddenly open, +and Trevanion appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry, Harry Lorrequer,” cried he, as he entered; then suddenly +checking himself, added “a thousand, ten thousand pardons. +But—” +</p> + +<p> +“But what,” cried I passionately, forgetting all save the situation +of poor Emily at the moment, “what can justify—” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing certainly can justify such an intrusion,” said Trevanion, +finishing my sentence for me, “except the very near danger you run this +moment in being arrested. O’Leary’s imprudence has compromised your +safety, and you must leave Paris within an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Trevanion,” said Emily, who by this time had regained a +more befitting attitude, “pray speak out; what is it? is Harry—is +Mr. Lorrequer, I mean, in any danger?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing of consequence, Miss Bingham, if he only act with prudence, and +be guided by his friends. Lorrequer, you will find me in your apartments in +half an hour—till then, adieu.” +</p> + +<p> +While Emily poured forth question after question, as to the nature and extent +of my present difficulty, I could not help thinking of the tact by which +Trevanion escaped, leaving me to make my adieux to Emily as best I +might—for I saw in a glance that I must leave Paris at once. I, +therefore, briefly gave her to understand the affair at the salon—which I +suspected to be the cause of the threatened arrest—and was about to +profess my unaltered and unalterable attachment, when she suddenly stopped me. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Mr. Lorrequer, no. All is over between us. We must never meet +again—never. We have been both playing a part. Good by—good by: do +not altogether forget me—and once more, Harry good by.” +</p> + +<p> +What I might have said, thought, or done, I know not; but the arrival of Mrs. +Bingham’s carriage at the door left no time for any thing but escape. So, +once more pressing her hand firmly to my lips, I said—“au revoir, +Emily, au revoir, not good by,” and rushing from the room, regained my +own, just as Mrs. Bingham reached the corridor. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch42" id="ch42"></a> CHAPTER XLII.<br/> +MR. O’LEARY’S CAPTURE.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus19"></a> +<a href="images/fig19.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig19.jpg" width="469" height="600" alt="Illustration: Mr. +O’Leary’s Double Capture" /></a> +<p class="caption">Mr. O’Leary’s Double Capture</p> +</div> + +<p> +Does she really care for me? was my first question to myself as I left the +room. Is this story about pre-engaged affections merely a got up thing, to try +the force of my attachment for her? for, if not, her conduct is most +inexplicable; and great as my experience has been in such affairs, I avow +myself out maneuvered. While I thought over this difficulty, Trevanion came up, +and in a few words, informed me more fully upon what he hinted at before. It +appeared that O’Leary, much more alive to the imperative necessity of +avoiding detection by his sposa, than of involving himself with the police, had +thrown out most dark and mysterious hints in the hotel as to the reason of his +residence at Paris; fully impressed with the idea that, to be a good Pole, he +need only talk “revolutionary;” devote to the powers below, all +kings, czars, and kaisers; weep over the wrongs of his nation; wear rather +seedy habiliments, and smoke profusely. The latter were with him easy +conditions, and he so completely acted the former to the life, that he had been +that morning arrested in the Tuilleries gardens, under several treasonable +charges—among others, the conspiracy, with some of his compatriots to +murder the minister of war. +</p> + +<p> +However laughable such an accusation against poor O’Leary, one +circumstance rendered the matter any thing but ludicrous. Although he must come +off free of this grave offence, yet, the salon transaction would necessarily +now become known; I should be immediately involved, and my departure from Paris +prevented. +</p> + +<p> +“So,” said Trevanion, as he briefly laid before me the difficulty +of my position, “you may perceive that however strongly your affections +may be engaged in a certain quarter, it is quite as well to think of leaving +Paris without delay. O’Leary’s arrest will be followed by yours, +depend upon it; and once under the surveillance of the police, escape is +impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, seriously, Trevanion,” said I, nettled at the tone of +raillery he spoke in, “you must see that there is nothing whatever in +that business. I was merely taking my farewell of the fair Emily. Her +affections have been long since engaged, and I—” +</p> + +<p> +“Only endeavouring to support her in her attachment to the more favoured +rival. Is it not so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, no quizzing. Faith I began to feel very uncomfortable about +parting with her, the moment that I discovered that I must do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I guessed,” said Trevanion, with a dry look, “from the +interesting scene I so abruptly trespassed upon. But you are right; a little +bit of tendresse is never misplaced, so long as the object is young, pretty, +and still more than all, disposed for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite out; perfectly mistaken, believe me. Emily not only never cared +for me; but she has gone far enough to tell me so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, from all I know of such matters,” replied he, “you +were both in a very fair way to repair that mistake on her part. But hark! what +is this?” A tremendous noise in the street here interrupted our colloquy, +and on opening the window, a strange scene presented itself to our eyes. In the +middle of a dense mass of moving rabble, shouting, yelling, and screaming, with +all their might, were two gens d’armes with a prisoner between them. The +unhappy man was followed by a rather well-dressed, middle-aged looking woman, +who appeared to be desirous of bestowing the most <i>coram publico</i> +endearments upon the culprit, whom a second glance showed us was O’Leary. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you, my dear madam, you are mistaken,” said O’Leary, +addressing her with great sternness of manner and voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Mistaken! Never, never. How could I ever be mistaken in that dear voice, +those lovely eyes, that sweet little nose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Take her away; she’s deranged,” said O’Leary to the +gens d’armes. “Sure, if I’m a Pole, that’s enough of +misfortune.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll follow him to the end of the earth, I will.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to the galleys, God be praised,” said +O’Leary. +</p> + +<p> +“To the galleys—to the guillotine—any where,” responded +she, throwing herself upon his neck, much less, as it seemed, to his +gratification, than that of the mob, who laughed and shouted most uproariously. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Ram, ain’t you ashamed?” +</p> + +<p> +“He calls me by my name,” said she, “and he attempts to +disown me. Ha! ha! ha! ha!” and immediately fell off into a strong +paroxysm of kicking, and pinching, and punching the bystanders, a malady well +known under the name of hysterics; but being little more than a privileged +mode, among certain ladies, of paying off some scores, which it is not thought +decent to do in their more sober moments. +</p> + +<p> +“Lead me away—anywhere—convict me of what you like,” +said he, “but don’t let her follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +The gens d’armes, who little comprehended the nature of the scene before +them, were not sorry to anticipate a renewal of it on Mrs. Ram’s +recovery, and accordingly seized the opportunity to march on with +O’Leary, who turned the corner of the Rue Rivoli, under a shower of +“meurtriers” and “scelerats” from the mob, that fell +fortunately most unconsciously upon his ears. +</p> + +<p> +The possibility of figuring in such a procession contributed much to the force +of Trevanion’s reasonings, and I resolved to leave Paris at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Promise me, then, to involve yourself in no more scrapes for +half-an-hour. Pack every thing you shall want with you, and, by seven +o’clock, I shall be here with your passport and all ready for a +start.” +</p> + +<p> +With a beating brain, and in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, I threw my +clothes hither and thither into my trunk; Lady Jane and Emily both flitting +every instant before my imagination, and frequently an irresolution to proceed +stopping all my preparations for departure, I sat down musing upon a chair, and +half determined to stay where I was, coute qui coute. Finally, the possibility +of exposure in a trial, had its weight. I continued my occupation till the last +coat was folded, and the lock turned, when I seated myself opposite my luggage, +and waited impatiently for my friend’s return. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch43" id="ch43"></a> CHAPTER XLIII.<br/> +THE JOURNEY.</h2> + +<p> +Trevanion came at last. He had obtained my passport, and engaged a carriage to +convey me about eight miles, where I should overtake the diligence—such a +mode of travelling being judged more likely to favour my escape, by attracting +less attention than posting. It was past ten when I left the Rue St. Honore, +having shaken hands with Trevanion for the last time, and charged him with ten +thousand soft messages for the “friends” I left behind me. +</p> + +<p> +When I arrived at the village of St. Jacques, the diligence had not come up. To +pass away the time, I ordered a little supper and a bottle of St. Julien. +Scarcely had I seated myself to my “cotelette,” when the rapid +whirl of wheels was heard without, and a cab drew up suddenly at the door. So +naturally does the fugitive suspect pursuit, that my immediate impression was, +that I was followed. In this notion I was strengthened by the tones of a +cracked, discordant voice, asking in very peculiar French if the +“diligence had passed?” Being answered in the negative he walked +into the room where I was, and speedily by his appearance, removed any +apprehensions I had felt as to my safety. Nothing could less resemble the tall +port and sturdy bearing of a gendarme, than the diminutive and dwarfish +individual before me. His height could scarcely have reached five feet, of +which the head formed fully a fourth part; and even this was rendered in +appearance still greater by a mass of loosely floating black hair that fell +upon his neck and shoulders, and gave him much the air of a “black +lion” on a sign board. His black frock, fur-collared and +braided—his ill-made boots, his meerschaum projecting from his +breast-pocket, above all, his unwashed hands, and a heavy gold ring upon his +thumb—all made up an ensemble of evidences that showed he could be +nothing but a German. His manner was bustling, impatient, and had it not been +ludicrous, would certainly be considered as insolent to every one about him, +for he stared each person abruptly in the face, and mumbled some broken +expressions of his opinion of them half-aloud in German. His comments ran +on:—“Bon soir, Monsieur,” to the host: “Ein boesewicht, +ganz sicher”—“a scoundrel without doubt;” and then +added, still lower, “Rob you here as soon as look at you.” +“Ah, postillion! comment va?”—“much more like a brigand +after all—I know which I’d take you for.” “Ver fluchte +fraw”—“how ugly the woman is.” This compliment was +intended for the hostess, who curtsied down to the ground in her ignorance. At +last approaching me, he stopped, and having steadily surveyed me, muttered, +“Ein echter Englander”—“a thorough Englishman, always +eating.” I could not resist the temptation to assure him that I was +perfectly aware of his flattering impression in my behalf, though I had +speedily to regret my precipitancy, for, less mindful of the rebuke than +pleased at finding some one who understood German, he drew his chair beside me +and entered into conversation. +</p> + +<p> +Every one has surely felt, some time or other in life, the insufferable +annoyance of having his thoughts and reflections interfered with, and broken in +upon by the vulgar impertinence and egotism of some “bore,” who, +mistaking your abstraction for attention and your despair for delight, inflicts +upon you his whole life and adventures, when your own immediate destinies are +perhaps vacillating in the scale. +</p> + +<p> +Such a doom was now mine! Occupied as I was by the hope of the future, and my +fears lest any impediment to my escape should blast my prospects for ever, I +preferred appearing to pay attention to this confounded fellow’s +“personal narrative” lest his questions, turning on my own affairs, +might excite suspicions as to the reasons of my journey. +</p> + +<p> +I longed most ardently for the arrival of the diligence, trusting that with +true German thrift, by friend might prefer the cheapness of the +“interieure” to the magnificence of the “coupé,” and +that thus I should see no more of him. But in this pleasing hope I was destined +to be disappointed, for I was scarcely seated in my place when I found him +beside me. The third occupant of this “privileged den,” as well as +my lamp-light survey of him permitted, afforded nothing to build on as a +compensation for the German. He was a tall, lanky, lantern-jawed man, with a +hook nose and projecting chin; his hair, which had only been permitted to grow +very lately, formed that curve upon his forehead we see in certain old +fashioned horse-shoe wigs; his compressed lip and hard features gave the +expression of one who had seen a good deal of the world, and didn’t think +the better of it in consequence. I observed that he listened to the few words +we spoke while getting in with some attention, and then, like a person who did +not comprehend the language, turned his shoulder towards us, and soon fell +asleep. I was now left to the “tender mercies” of my talkative +companion, who certainly spared me not. Notwithstanding my vigorous resolves to +turn a deaf ear to his narratives, I could not avoid learning that he was the +director of music to some German prince—that he had been to Paris to +bring out an opera which having, as he said, a “succes pyramidal,” +he was about to repeat in Strasbourg. He further informed me that a depute from +Alsace had obtained for him a government permission to travel with the courier; +but that he being “social” withal, and no ways proud, preferred the +democracy of the diligence to the solitary grandeur of the caleche, (for which +heaven confound him,) and thus became my present companion. +</p> + +<p> +Music, in all its shapes and forms made up the staple of the little man’s +talk. There was scarcely an opera or an overture, from Mozart to Donizetti, +that he did not insist upon singing a scene from; and wound up all by a very +pathetic lamentation over English insensibility to music, which he in great +part attributed to our having only one opera, which he kindly informed me was +“Bob et Joan.” However indisposed to check the current of his +loquacity by any effort of mine, I could not avoid the temptation to translate +for him a story which Sir Walter Scott once related to me, and was so far +apropos, as conveying my own sense of the merits of our national music, such as +we have it, by its association with scenes, and persons, and places we are all +familiar with, however unintelligible to the ear of a stranger. +</p> + +<p> +A young French viscomte was fortunate enough to obtain in marriage the hand of +a singularly pretty Scotch heiress of an old family and good fortune, who, +amongst her other endowments, possessed a large old-fashioned house in a remote +district of the highlands, where her ancestors had resided for centuries. +Thither the young couple repaired to pass their honeymoon; the enamoured +bridegroom gladly availing himself of the opportunity to ingratiate himself +with his new connexion, by adopting the seclusion he saw practised by the +English on such occasions. However consonant to our notions of happiness, and +however conducive to our enjoyment this custom be—and I have strong +doubts upon the subject—it certainly prospered ill with the volatile +Frenchman, who pined for Paris, its cafes, its boulevards, its maisons de jeu, +and its soirees. His days were passed in looking from the deep and narrow +windows of some oak-framed room upon the bare and heath-clad moors, or watching +the cloud’s shadows as they passed across the dark pine trees that closed +the distance. +</p> + +<p> +Ennuyee to death, and convinced that he had sacrificed enough and more than +enough to the barbarism which demanded such a “sejour,” he was +sitting one evening listlessly upon the terrace in front of the house, plotting +a speedy escape from his gloomy abode, and meditating upon the life of pleasure +that awaited him, when the discordant twang of some savage music broke upon his +ear, and roused him from his reverie. The wild scream and fitful burst of a +highland pibroch is certainly not the most likely thing in nature to allay the +irritable and ruffled feelings of an irascible person—unless, perhaps, +the hearer eschew breeches. So thought the viscomte. He started hurriedly up, +and straight before him, upon the gravel-walk, beheld the stalwart figure and +bony frame of an old highlander, blowing, with all his lungs, the +“Gathering of the clans.” With all the speed he could muster, he +rushed into the house, and, calling his servants, ordered them to expel the +intruder, and drive him at once outside the demesne. When the mandate was made +known to the old piper, it was with the greatest difficulty he could be brought +to comprehend it—for, time out of mind, his approach had been hailed with +every demonstration of rejoicing; and now—but no; the thing was +impossible—there must be a mistake somewhere. He was accordingly about to +recommence, when a second and stronger hint suggested to him that it were safer +to depart. “Maybe the ‘carl’ did na like the pipes,” +said the highlander musingly, as he packed them up for his march. “Maybe +he did na like me;” “perhaps, too, he was na in the humour of +music.” He paused for an instant as if reflecting—not satisfied, +probably, that he had hit upon the true solution—when suddenly his eye +brightened, his lips curled, and fixing a look upon the angry Frenchman, he +said—“Maybe ye are right enow—ye heard them ower muckle in +Waterloo to like the skirl o’ them ever since;” with which +satisfactory explanation, made in no spirit of bitterness or raillery, but in +the simple belief that he had at last hit the mark of the viscomte’s +antipathy, the old man gathered up his plaid and departed. +</p> + +<p> +However disposed I might have felt towards sleep, the little German resolved I +should not obtain any, for when for half an hour together I would preserve a +rigid silence, he, nowise daunted, had recourse to some German +“lied,” which he gave forth with an energy of voice and manner that +must have aroused every sleeper in the diligence: so that, fain to avoid this, +I did my best to keep him on the subject of his adventures, which, as a man of +successful gallantry, were manifold indeed. Wearying at last, even of this +subordinate part, I fell into a kind of half doze. The words of a student song +he continued to sing without ceasing for above an hour—being the last +waking thought on my memory. +</p> + +<p> +Less as a souvenir of the singer than a specimen of its class I give here a +rough translation of the well-known Burschen melody called <br/> +</p> + +<p class="center">THE POPE +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + I.<br/> +The Pope, he leads a happy life,<br/> +He fears not married care, nor strife,<br/> +He drinks the best of Rhenish wine,<br/> +I would the Pope’s gay lot were mine.<br/> +<br/> + CHORUS.<br/> +He drinks the best of Rhenish wine.<br/> +I would the Pope’s gay lot were mine.<br/> +<br/> + II.<br/> +But then all happy’s not his life,<br/> +He has not maid, nor blooming wife;<br/> +Nor child has he to raise his hope—<br/> +I would not wish to be the Pope.<br/> +<br/> + III.<br/> +The Sultan better pleases me,<br/> +His is a life of jollity;<br/> +His wives are many as he will—<br/> +I would the Sultan’s throne then fill.<br/> +<br/> + IV.<br/> +But even he’s a wretched man,<br/> +He must obey his Alcoran;<br/> +And dares not drink one drop of wine—<br/> +I would not change his lot for mine.<br/> +<br/> + V.<br/> +So then I’ll hold my lowly stand,<br/> +And live in German Vaterland;<br/> +I’ll kiss my maiden fair and fine,<br/> +And drink the best of Rhenish wine.<br/> +<br/> + VI.<br/> +Whene’er my maiden kisses me,<br/> +I’ll think that I the Sultan be;<br/> +And when my cheery glass I tope,<br/> +I’ll fancy then I am the Pope.<br/> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch44" id="ch44"></a> CHAPTER XLIV.<br/> +THE JOURNEY.</h2> + +<p> +It was with a feeling of pleasure I cannot explain, that I awoke in the +morning, and found myself upon the road. The turmoil, the bustle, the +never-ending difficulties of my late life in Paris had so over-excited and +worried me, that I could neither think nor reflect. Now all these cares and +troubles were behind me, and I felt like a liberated prisoner as I looked upon +the grey dawn of the coming day, as it gradually melted from its dull and +leaden tint to the pink and yellow hue of the rising sun. The broad and +richly-coloured plains of “la belle France” were before +me—and it is “la belle France,” however inferior to parts of +England in rural beauty—the large tracts of waving yellow corn, +undulating like a sea in the morning breeze—the interminable reaches of +forest, upon which the shadows played and flitted, deepening the effect and +mellowing the mass, as we see them in Ruysdael’s pictures—while now +and then some tall-gabled, antiquated chateau, with its mutilated terrace and +dowager-like air of bye-gone grandeur, would peep forth at the end of some long +avenue of lime trees, all having their own features of beauty—and a +beauty with which every object around harmonizes well. The sluggish peasant, in +his blouse and striped night-cap—the heavily caparisoned horse, shaking +his head amidst a Babel-tower of gaudy worsted tassels and brass +bells—the deeply laden waggon, creeping slowly along—are all in +keeping with a scene, where the very mist that rises from the valley seems +indolent and lazy, and unwilling to impart the rich perfume of verdure with +which it is loaded. Every land has its own peculiar character of beauty. The +glaciered mountain, the Alpine peak, the dashing cataract of Switzerland and +the Tyrol, are not finer in their way than the long flat moorlands of a Flemish +landscape, with its clump of stunted willows cloistering over some limpid +brook, in which the oxen are standing for shelter from the noon-day +heat—while, lower down, some rude water-wheel is mingling its sounds with +the summer bees and the merry voices of the miller and his companions. So +strayed my thoughts as the German shook me by the arm, and asked if “I +were not ready for my breakfast?” Luckily to this question there is +rarely but the one answer. Who is not ready for his breakfast when on the road? +How delightful, if on the continent, to escape from the narrow limits of the +dungeon-like diligence, where you sit with your knees next your collar-bone, +fainting with heat and suffocated by dust, and find yourself suddenly beside +the tempting “plats” of a little French dejeuné, with its cutlets, +its fried fish, its poulet, its salad, and its little entré of fruit, tempered +with a not despicable bottle of Beaune. If in England, the exchange is nearly +as grateful—for though our travelling be better, and our equipage less +“genante,” still it is no small alterative from the stage-coach to +the inn parlour, redolent of aromatic black tea, eggs, and hot toast, with a +hospitable side-board of red, raw surloins, and York hams, that would make a +Jew’s mouth water. While, in America, the change is greatest of all, as +any one can vouch for who has been suddenly emancipated from the stove-heat of +a “nine-inside” leathern “conveniency,” bumping ten +miles an hour over a corduroy road, the company smoking, if not worse; to the +ample display of luxurious viands displayed upon the breakfast-table, where, +what with buffalo steaks, pumpkin pie, gin cock-tail, and other +aristocratically called temptations, he must be indeed fastidious who cannot +employ his half-hour. Pity it is, when there is so much good to eat, that +people will not partake of it like civilized beings, and with that air of +cheerful thankfulness that all other nations more or less express when enjoying +the earth’s bounties. But true it is, that there is a spirit of +discontent in the Yankee, that seems to accept of benefits with a tone of +dissatisfaction, if not distrust. I once made this remark to an excellent +friend of mine now no more, who, however, would not permit of my attributing +this feature to the Americans exclusively, adding, “Where have you more +of this than in Ireland? and surely you would not call the Irish +ungrateful?” He illustrated his first remark by the following short +anecdote:— +</p> + +<p> +The rector of the parish my friend lived in was a man who added to the income +he derived from his living a very handsome private fortune, which he devoted +entirely to the benefit of the poor around him. Among the objects of his bounty +one old woman—a childless widow, was remarkably distinguished. Whether +commiserating her utter helplessness or her complete isolation, he went farther +to relieve her than to many, if not all, the other poor. She frequently was in +the habit of pleading her poverty as a reason for not appearing in church among +her neighbours; and he gladly seized an opportunity of so improving her +condition, that on this score at least no impediment existed. When all his +little plans for her comfort had been carried into execution, he took the +opportunity one day of dropping in, as if accidentally, to speak to her. By +degrees he led the subject to her changed condition in life—the +alteration from a cold, damp, smoky hovel, to a warm, clean, slated +house—the cheerful garden before the door that replaced the mud-heap and +the duck-pool—and all the other happy changes which a few weeks had +effected. And he then asked, did she not feel grateful to a bountiful +Providence that had showered down so many blessings upon her head? +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, troth, its thrue for yer honour, I am grateful,” she replied, +in a whining discordant tone, which astonished the worthy parson. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you are, my good woman, of course you are—but I mean to +say, don’t you feel that every moment you live is too short to express +your thankfulness to this kind Providence for what he has done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, darlin’, it’s all thrue, he’s very good, +he’s mighty kind, so he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why then, not acknowledge it in a different manner?” said the +parson, with some heat—“has he not housed you, and fed you, and +clothed you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, alanah, he done it all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, where is your gratitude for all these mercies?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, sure if he did,” said the old crone, roused at length by the +importunity of the questioner—“sure if he did, doesn’t he +take it out o’ me in the corns?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch45" id="ch45"></a> CHAPTER XLV.<br/> +A REMINISCENCE OF THE EAST.</h2> + +<p> +The breakfast-table assembled around it the three generations of men who issued +from the three subdivisions of the diligence, and presented that motley and +mixed assemblage of ranks, ages, and countries, which forms so very amusing a +part of a traveller’s experience. +</p> + +<p> +First came the “haute aristocratie” of the coupé, then the middle +class of the interieure, and lastly, the tiers etat of the rotonde, with its +melange of Jew money-lenders, under-officers and their wives, a Norman nurse +with a high cap and a red jupe; while, to close the procession, a German +student descended from the roof, with a beard, a blouse, and a meerschaum. Of +such materials was our party made up; and yet, differing in all our objects and +interests, we speedily amalgamated into a very social state of intimacy, and +chatted away over our breakfast with much good humour and gaiety. Each person +of the number seeming pleased at the momentary opportunity of finding a new +listener, save my tall companion of the coupé. He preserved a dogged silence, +unbroken by even a chance expression to the waiter, who observed his wants and +supplied them by a species of quick instinct, evidently acquired by practice. +As I could not help feeling somewhat interested about the hermit-like +attachment he evinced for solitude, I watched him narrowly for some time, and +at length as the “roti” made its appearance before him, after he +had helped himself and tasted it, he caught my eye fixed upon him, and looking +at me intently for a few seconds, he seemed to be satisfied in some passing +doubt he laboured under, as he said with a most peculiar shake of the +head—“No mangez, no mangez cela.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said I, detecting in my friend’s French his English +origin, “you are an Englishman I find.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil a doubt of it, darlin’,” said he half testily. +</p> + +<p> +“An Irishman, too—still better,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Why then isn’t it strange that my French always shows me to be +English, and my English proves me Irish? It’s lucky for me there’s +no going farther any how.” +</p> + +<p> +Delighted to have thus fallen upon a “character,” as the Irishman +evidently appeared, I moved my chair towards his; and finding, however, he was +not half pleased at the manner in which my acquaintance had been made with him, +and knowing his country’s susceptibility of being taken by a story, I +resolved to make my advances by narrating a circumstance which had once +befallen me in my early life. +</p> + +<p> +Our countrymen, English and Irish, travel so much now a days, that one ought +never to feel surprised at finding them anywhere. The instance I am about to +relate will verify to a certain extent the fact, by showing that no situation +is too odd or too unlikely to be within the verge of calculation. +</p> + +<p> +When the 10th foot, to which I then belonged, were at Corfu, I obtained with +three other officers a short leave of absence, to make a hurried tour of the +Morea, and taking a passing glance at Constantinople—in those days much +less frequently visited by travellers than at present. +</p> + +<p> +After rambling pleasantly about for some weeks, we were about to return, when +we determined that before sailing we should accept an invitation some officers +of the “Dwarf” frigate, then stationed there, had given us, to pass +a day at Pera, and pic-nic in the mountain. +</p> + +<p> +One fine bright morning was therefore selected—a most appetizing little +dinner being carefully packed up—we set out, a party of fourteen, upon +our excursion. +</p> + +<p> +The weather was glorious, and the scene far finer than any of us had +anticipated—the view from the mountain extending over the entire city, +gorgeous in the rich colouring of its domes and minarets; while, at one side, +the golden horn was visible, crowded with ships of every nation, and, at the +other, a glimpse might be had of the sea of Marmora, blue and tranquil as it +lay beneath. The broad bosom of the Bosphorus was sheeted out like a map before +us—peaceful yet bustling with life and animation. Here lay the union-jack +of old England, floating beside the lilies of France—we speak of times +when lilies were and barricades were not—the tall and taper spars of a +Yankee frigate towering above the low timbers and heavy hull of a Dutch +schooner—the gilded poop and curved galleries of a Turkish three-decker, +anchored beside the raking mast and curved deck of a suspicious looking craft, +whose red-capped and dark-visaged crew needed not the naked creese at their +sides to bespeak them Malays. The whole was redolent of life, and teeming with +food for one’s fancy to conjure from. +</p> + +<p> +While we were debating upon the choice of a spot for our luncheon, which should +command the chief points of view within our reach, one of the party came to +inform us that he had just discovered the very thing we were in search of. It +was a small kiosk, built upon a projecting rock that looked down upon the +Bosphorus and the city, and had evidently, from the extended views it +presented, been selected as the spot to build upon. The building itself was a +small octagon, open on every side, and presenting a series of prospects, land +and seaward, of the most varied and magnificent kind. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing no one near, nor any trace of habitation, we resolved to avail ourselves +of the good taste of the founder; and spreading out the contents of our +hampers, proceeded to discuss a most excellent cold dinner. When the good +things had disappeared, and the wine began to circulate, one of the party +observed that we should not think of enjoying ourselves before we had filled a +bumper to the brim, to the health of our good king, whose birth-day it chanced +to be. Our homeward thoughts and loyalty uniting, we filled our glasses, and +gave so hearty a “hip, hip, hurra,” to our toast, that I doubt if +the echoes of those old rocks ever heard the equal of it. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely was the last cheer dying away in the distance, when the door of the +kiosk opened, and a negro dressed in white muslin appeared, his arms and ancles +bearing those huge rings of massive gold, which only persons of rank +distinguish their servants by. +</p> + +<p> +After a most profound obeisance to the party, he explained in very tolerable +French, that his master the Effendi, Ben Mustapha Al Halak, at whose charge (in +house rent) we were then resting, sent us greetings, and begged that if not +considered as contrary to our usages, &c. we should permit him and his +suite to approach the kiosk and observe us at our meal. +</p> + +<p> +Independent of his politeness in the mode of conveying the request, as he would +prove fully as entertaining a sight to us as we could possibly be to him, we +immediately expressed our great willingness to receive his visit, coupled with +a half hint that perhaps he might honour us by joining the party. +</p> + +<p> +After a half hour’s delay, the door was once more thrown open, and a +venerable old Turk entered: he salaamed three times most reverently, and +motioned to us to be seated, declining, at the same time, by a gentle gesture +of his hand, our invitation. He was followed by a train of six persons, all +splendidly attired, and attesting, by their costume and manner, the rank and +importance of their chief. Conceiving that his visit had but one +object—to observe our convivial customs—we immediately reseated +ourselves, and filled our glasses. +</p> + +<p> +As one after another the officers of the effendi’s household passed round +the apartments, we offered them a goblet of champagne, which they severally +declined, with a polite but solemn smile—all except one, a large, +savage-looking Turk, with a most ferocious scowl, and the largest black beard I +ever beheld. He did not content himself with a mute refusal of our offer, but +stopping suddenly, he raised up his hands above his head, and muttered some +words in Turkish, which one of the party informed us was a very satisfactory +recommendation of the whole company to Satan for their heretic abomination. +</p> + +<p> +The procession moved slowly round the room, and when it reached the door again +retired, each member of it salaaming three times as they had done on entering. +Scarcely had they gone, when we burst into a loud fit of laughter at the +savage-looking fellow who thought proper to excommunicate us, and were about to +discuss his more than common appearance of disgust at our proceedings, when +again the door opened, and a turbaned head peeped in, but so altered were the +features, that although seen but the moment before, we could hardly believe +them the same. The dark complexion—the long and bushy beard were +there—but instead of the sleepy and solemn character of the oriental, +with heavy eye and closed lip, there was a droll, half-devilry in the look, and +partly open mouth, that made a most laughable contrast with the head-dress. He +looked stealthily around him for an instant, as if to see that all was right, +and then, with an accent and expression I shall never forget, said, +“I’ll taste your wine, gentleman, an it be pleasing to ye.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch46" id="ch46"></a> CHAPTER XLVI.<br/> +A DAY IN THE PHŒNIX.</h2> + +<p> +When we were once more in the coupé of the diligence, I directed my entire +attention towards my Irish acquaintance, as well because of his apparent +singularity, as to avoid the little German in the opposite corner. +</p> + +<p> +“You have not been long in France, then, sir,” said I, as we +resumed our conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Three weeks, and it seems like three years to me—nothing to +eat—nothing to drink—and nobody to speak to. But I’ll go back +soon—I only came abroad for a month.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll scarcely see much of the Continent in so short a +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Devil a much that will grieve me—I didn’t come to see +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing of the kind; I only came—to be away from home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I perceive.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re quite out there,” said my companion, misinterpreting +my meaning. “It wasn’t any thing of that kind. I don’t owe +sixpence. I was laughed out of Ireland—that’s all, though that same +is bad enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Laughed out of it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so—and little you know of Ireland if that surprises +you.” +</p> + +<p> +After acknowledging that such an event was perfectly possible, from what I +myself had seen of that country, I obtained the following very brief account of +my companion’s reasons for foreign travel: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir,” began he, “it is about four months since I +brought up to Dublin from Galway a little chesnut mare, with cropped ears and a +short tail, square-jointed, and rather low—just what you’d call a +smart hack for going to cover with—a lively thing on the road with a +light weight. Nobody ever suspected that she was a clean bred thing—own +sister to Jenny, that won the Corinthians, and ran second to Giles for the +Riddlesworth—but so she was, and a better bred mare never leaped the +pound in Ballinasloe. Well, I brought her to Dublin, and used to ride her out +two or three times a week, making little matches sometimes to trot—and, +for a thorough bred, she was a clipper at trotting—to trot a mile or so +on the grass—another day to gallop the length of the nine acres opposite +the Lodge—and then sometimes, back her for a ten pound note, to jump the +biggest furze bush that could be found—all or which she could do with +ease, nobody thinking, all the while, that the cock-tailed pony was out of +Scroggins, by a ‘Lamplighter mare.’ As every fellow that was beat +to-day was sure to come back to-morrow, with something better, either of his +own or a friend’s, I had matches booked for every day in the +week—for I always made my little boy that rode, win by half a neck, or a +nostril, and so we kept on day after day pocketing from ten to thirty pounds or +thereabouts. +</p> + +<p> +“It was mighty pleasant while it lasted, for besides winning the money, I +had my own fun laughing at the spoonies that never could book my bets fast +enough. Young infantry officers and the junior bar—they were for the most +part mighty nice to look at, but very raw about racing. How long I might have +gone on in this way I cannot say; but one morning I fell in with a fat, elderly +gentleman, in shorts and gaiters, mounted on a dun cob pony, that was very +fidgety and hot tempered, and appeared to give the rider a great deal of +uneasiness. +</p> + +<p> +“‘He’s a spicy hack you’re on, sir,’ said I, +‘and has a go in him, I’ll be bound.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I rayther think he has,’ said the old gentleman, half +testily. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And can trot a bit, too.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Twelve Irish miles in fifty minutes, with my weight.’ Here +he looked down at a paunch like a sugar hogshead. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Maybe he’s not bad across a country,’ said I, rather +to humour the old fellow, who, I saw, was proud of his poney. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’d like to see his match, that’s all.’ Here he +gave a rather contemptuous glance at my hack. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, one word led to another, and it ended at last in our booking a +match, with which one party was no less pleased than the other. It was this: +each was to ride his own horse, starting from the school in the Park, round the +Fifteen Acres, outside the Monument, and back to the start—just one heat, +about a mile and a half—the ground good, and only soft enough. In +consideration, however, of his greater weight, I was to give odds in the start; +and as we could not well agree on how much, it was at length decided that he +was to get away first, and I to follow as fast as I could, after drinking a +pewter quart full of Guinness’s double stout—droll odds, +you’ll say, but it was the old fellow’s own thought, and as the +match was a soft one, I let him have his way. +</p> + +<p> +“The next morning the Phœnix was crowded as if for a review. There were +all the Dublin notorieties, swarming in barouches, and tilburies, and outside +jaunting-cars—smart clerks in the post-office, mounted upon kicking +devils from Dycer’s and Lalouette’s stables—attorney’s +wives and daughters from York-street, and a stray doctor or so on a hack that +looked as if it had been lectured on for the six winter months at the College +of Surgeons. My antagonist was half an hour late, which time I occupied in +booking bets on every side of me—offering odds of ten, fifteen, and at +last, to tempt the people, twenty-five to one against the dun. At last, the fat +gentleman came up on a jaunting-car, followed by a groom leading the cob. I +wish you heard the cheer that greeted him on his arrival, for it appeared he +was a well-known character in town, and much in favour with the mob. When he +got off the car, he bundled into a tent, followed by a few of his friends, +where they remained for about five minutes, at the end of which he came out in +full racing costume—blue and yellow striped jacket, blue cap and +leathers—looking as funny a figure as ever you set eyes upon. I now +thought it time to throw off my white surtout, and show out in pink and orange, +the colours I had been winning in for two months past. While some of the party +were sent on to station themselves at different places round the Fifteen Acres, +to mark out the course, my fat friend was assisted into his saddle, and gave a +short preliminary gallop of a hundred yards or so, that set us all a-laughing. +The odds were now fifty to one in my favour, and I gave them wherever I could +find takers. ‘With you, sir, if you please, in pounds, and the gentleman +in the red whiskers, too, if he likes—very well, in half sovereigns, if +you prefer it.’ So I went on, betting on every side, till the bell rung +to mount. As I knew I had plenty of time to spare, I took little notice, and +merely giving a look to my girths, I continued leisurely booking my bets. At +last the time came, and at the word ‘Away!’ off went the fat +gentleman on the dun, at a spluttering gallop, that flung the mud on every side +of us, and once more threw us all a-laughing. I waited patiently till he got +near the upper end of the park, taking bets every minute; and now that he was +away, every one offered to wager. At last, when I had let him get nearly half +round, and found no more money could be had, I called out to his friends for +the porter, and, throwing myself into the saddle, gathered up the reins in my +hand. The crowd fell back on each side, while from the tent I have already +mentioned came a thin fellow with one eye, with a pewter quart in his hand: he +lifted it up towards me, and I took it; but what was my fright to find that the +porter was boiling, and the vessel so hot I could barely hold it. I endeavoured +to drink, however: the first mouthful took all the skin off my lips and +tongue—the second half choked, and the third nearly threw me into an +apoplectic fit—the mob cheering all the time like devils. Meantime, the +old fellow had reached the furze, and was going along like fun. Again I tried +the porter, and a fit of coughing came on that lasted five minutes. The pewter +was now so hot that the edge of the quart took away a piece of my mouth at +every effort. I ventured once more, and with the desperation of a madman I +threw down the hot liquid to its last drop. My head reeled—my eyes +glared—and my brain was on fire. I thought I beheld fifty fat gentlemen +galloping on every side of me, and all the sky raining jackets in blue and +yellow. Half mechanically I took the reins, and put spurs to my horse; but +before I got well away, a loud cheer from the crowd assailed me. I turned, and +saw the dun coming in at a floundering gallop, covered with foam, and so dead +blown that neither himself nor the rider could have got twenty yards farther. +The race was, however, won. My odds were lost to every man on the field, and, +worse than all, I was so laughed at, that I could not venture out in the +streets, without hearing allusions to my misfortune; for a certain friend of +mine, one Tom O’Flaherty—” +</p> + +<p> +“Tom of the 11th light dragoons?” +</p> + +<p> +“The same—you know Tom, then? Maybe you have heard him mention +me—Maurice Malone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not Mr. Malone, of Fort Peak?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bad luck to him. I am as well known in connexion with Fort Peak, as the +Duke is with Waterloo. There is not a part of the globe where he has not told +that confounded story.” +</p> + +<p> +As my readers may not possibly be all numbered in Mr. O’Flaherty’s +acquaintance, I shall venture to give the anecdote which Mr. Malone accounted +to be so widely circulated. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch47" id="ch47"></a> CHAPTER XLVII.<br/> +AN ADVENTURE IN CANADA.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus20"></a> +<a href="images/fig20.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig20.jpg" width="434" height="600" alt="Illustration: Mr. +Malone and His Friend" /></a> +<p class="caption">Mr. Malone and His Friend</p> +</div> + +<p> +Towards the close of the last war with America, a small detachment of military +occupied the little block house of Fort Peak, which, about eight miles from the +Falls of Niagara, formed the last outpost on the frontier. The Fort, in itself +inconsiderable, was only of importance as commanding a part of the river where +it was practicable to ford, and where the easy ascent of the bank offered a +safe situation for the enemy to cross over, whenever they felt disposed to +carry the war into our territory. +</p> + +<p> +There having been, however, no threat of invasion in this quarter, and the +natural strength of the position being considerable, a mere handful of men, +with two subaltern officers, were allotted for this duty—such being +conceived ample to maintain it till the arrival of succour from head-quarters, +then at Little York, on the opposite side of the lake. The officers of this +party were our old acquaintance Tom O’Flaherty, and our newly-made one +Maurice Malone. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever may be the merits of commanding officers, one virtue they certainly +can lay small claim to—viz. any insight into character, or at least any +regard for the knowledge. Seldom are two men sent off on detachment duty to +some remote quarter, to associate daily and hourly for months together, that +they are not, by some happy chance, the very people who never, as the phrase +is, “took to each other” in their lives. The grey-headed, +weather-beaten, disappointed “Peninsular” is coupled with the +essenced and dandified Adonis of the corps; the man of literary tastes and +cultivated pursuits, with the empty headed, ill informed youth, fresh from +Harrow or Westminster. This case offered no exception to the rule; for though +there were few men possessed of more assimilating powers than O’Flaherty, +yet certainly his companion did put the faculty to the test, for any thing more +unlike him, there never existed. Tom all good humour and high +spirits—making the best of every thing—never +non-plussed—never taken aback—perfectly at home, whether flirting +with a Lady Charlotte in her drawing-room, or crossing a grouse mountain in the +highlands—sufficiently well read to talk on any ordinary topic—and +always ready-witted enough to seem more so. A thorough sportsman, whether +showing forth in the “park” at Melton, whipping a trout-stream in +Wales, or filling a country-house with black cock and moor-fowl; an +unexceptionable judge of all the good things in life, from a pretty ancle to a +well hung tilbury—from the odds at hazard to the “Comet +vintage.” Such, in brief, was Tom. Now his confrere was none of these; he +had been drafted from the Galway militia to the line, for some election +services rendered by his family to the government candidate; was of a saturnine +and discontented habit; always miserable about some trifle or other, and never +at rest till he had drowned his sorrows in Jamaica rum—which, since the +regiment was abroad, he had copiously used as a substitute for whiskey. To such +an extent had this passion gained upon him, that a corporal’s guard was +always in attendance whenever he dined out, to convey him home to the barracks. +</p> + +<p> +The wearisome monotony of a close garrison, with so ungenial a companion, would +have damped any man’s spirits but O’Flaherty’s. He, however, +upon this, as other occasions in life, rallied himself to make the best of it; +and by short excursions within certain prescribed limits along the river side, +contrived to shoot and fish enough to get through the day, and improve the +meagre fare of his mess-table. Malone never appeared before dinner—his +late sittings at night requiring all the following day to recruit him for a new +attack upon the rum bottle. +</p> + +<p> +Now, although his seeing so little of his brother officer was any thing but +unpleasant to O’Flaherty, yet the ennui of such a life was gradually +wearing him, and all his wits were put in requisition to furnish occupation for +his time. Never a day passed without his praying ardently for an attack from +the enemy; any alternative, any reverse, had been a blessing compared with his +present life. No such spirit, however, seemed to animate the Yankee troops; not +a soldier was to be seen for miles around, and every straggler that passed the +Fort concurred in saying that the Americans were not within four day’s +march of the frontier. +</p> + +<p> +Weeks passed over, and the same state of things remaining unchanged, +O’Flaherty gradually relaxed some of his strictness as to duty; small +foraging parties of three and four being daily permitted to leave the Fort for +a few hours, to which they usually returned laden with wild turkeys and +fish—both being found in great abundance near them. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the life of the little garrison for two or three long summer +months—each day so resembling its fellow, that no difference could be +found. +</p> + +<p> +As to how the war was faring, or what the aspect of affairs might be, they +absolutely knew nothing. Newspapers never reached them; and whether from having +so much occupation at head-quarters, or that the difficulty of sending letters +prevented, their friends never wrote a line; and thus they jogged on, a very +vegetable existence, till thought at last was stagnating in their brains, and +O’Flaherty half envied his companion’s resource in the spirit +flask. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the state of affairs at the Fort, when one evening O’Flaherty +appeared to pace the little rampart that looked towards Lake Ontario, with an +appearance of anxiety and impatience strangely at variance with his daily +phlegmatic look. It seemed that the corporal’s party he had despatched +that morning to forage, near the “Falls,” had not returned, and +already were four hours later than their time away. +</p> + +<p> +Every imaginable mode of accounting for their absence suggested itself to his +mind. Sometimes he feared that they had been attacked by the Indian hunters, +who were far from favourably disposed towards their poaching neighbours. Then, +again, it might be merely that they had missed their track in the forest; or +could it be that they had ventured to reach Goat Island in a canoe, and had +been carried down the rapids. Such were the torturing doubts that passed as +some shrill squirrel, or hoarse night owl pierced the air with a cry, and then +all was silent again. While thus the hours went slowly by, his attention was +attracted by a bright light in the sky. It appeared as if part of the heavens +were reflecting some strong glare from beneath, for as he looked, the light, at +first pale and colourless, gradually deepened into a rich mellow hue, and at +length, through the murky blackness of the night, a strong clear current of +flame rose steadily upwards from the earth, and pointed towards the sky. From +the direction, it must have been either at the Falls, or immediately near them; +and now the horrible conviction flashed upon his mind that the party had been +waylaid by the Indians, who were, as is their custom, making a war feast over +their victims. +</p> + +<p> +Not an instant was to be lost. The little garrison beat to arms; and, as the +men fell in, O’Flaherty cast his eyes around, while he selected a few +brave fellows to accompany him. Scarcely had the men fallen out from the ranks, +when the sentinel at the gate was challenged by a well-known voice, and in a +moment more the corporal of the foraging party was among them. Fatigue and +exhaustion had so overcome him, that for some minutes he was speechless. At +length he recover sufficiently to give the following brief account:— +</p> + +<p> +The little party having obtained their supply of venison above Queenston, were +returning to the Fort, when they suddenly came upon a track of feet, and little +experience in forest life soon proved that some new arrivals had reached the +hunting grounds, for on examining them closely, they proved neither to be +Indian tracks, nor yet those made by the shoes of the Fort party. Proceeding +with caution to trace them backwards for three or four miles, they reached the +bank of the Niagara river, above the whirlpools, where the crossing is most +easily effected from the American side. The mystery was at once explained: it +was a surprise party of the Yankees, sent to attack Fort Peak; and now the only +thing to be done was to hasten back immediately to their friends, and prepare +for their reception. +</p> + +<p> +With this intent they took the river path as the shortest, but had not +proceeded far when their fears were confirmed; for in a little embayment of the +bank they perceived a party of twenty blue coats, who, with their arms piled, +were lying around as if waiting for the hour of attack. The sight of this party +added greatly to their alarm, for they now perceived that the Americans had +divided their force—the foot-tracks first seen being evidently those of +another division. As the corporal and his few men continued, from the low and +thick brushwood, to make their reconnaisance of the enemy, they observed with +delight that they were not regulars, but a militia force. With this one +animating thought, they again, with noiseless step, regained the forest, and +proceeded upon their way. Scarcely, however, had they marched a mile, when the +sound of voices and loud laughter apprised them that another party was near, +which, as well as they could observe in the increasing gloom, was still larger +than the former. They were now obliged to make a considerable circuit, and +advance still deeper into the forest—their anxiety hourly increasing, +lest the enemy should reach the Fort before themselves. In this dilemma it was +resolved that the party should separate—the corporal determining to +proceed alone by the river bank, while the others, by a detour of some miles, +should endeavour to learn the force of the Yankees, and, as far as they could, +their mode of attack. From that instant the corporal knew no more; for, after +two hours’ weary exertion, he reached the Fort, which, had it been but +another mile distant, his strength had not held out for him to attain. +</p> + +<p> +However gladly poor O’Flaherty might have hailed such information under +other circumstances, now it came like a thunderbolt upon him. Six of his small +force were away, perhaps ere this made prisoners by the enemy; the Yankees, as +well as he could judge, were a numerous party; and he himself totally without a +single adviser—for Malone had dined, and was, therefore, by this time in +that pleasing state of indifference, in which he could only recognise an enemy, +in the man that did not send round the decanter. +</p> + +<p> +In the half indulged hope that his state might permit some faint exercise of +the reasoning faculty, O’Flaherty walked towards the small den they had +designated as the mess-room, in search of his brother officer. +</p> + +<p> +As he entered the apartment, little disposed as he felt to mirth at such a +moment, the tableau before him was too ridiculous not to laugh at. At one side +of the fire-place sat Malone, his face florid with drinking, and his eyeballs +projecting. Upon his head was a small Indian skull cap, with two peacock +feathers, and a piece of scarlet cloth which hung down behind. In one hand he +held a smoking goblet of rum punch, and in the other a long, Indian Chibook +pipe. Opposite to him, but squatted upon the floor, reposed a red Indian, that +lived in the Fort as a guide, equally drunk, but preserving, even in his +liquor, an impassive, grave aspect, strangely contrasting with the high +excitement of Malone’s face. The red man wore Malone’s uniform +coat, which he had put on back foremost—his head-dress having, in all +probability been exchanged for it, as an amicable courtesy between the parties. +There they sat, looking fixedly at each other; neither spoke, nor even +smiled—the rum bottle, which at brief intervals passed from one to the +other, maintained a friendly intercourse that each was content with. +</p> + +<p> +To the hearty fit of laughing of O’Flaherty, Malone replied by a look of +drunken defiance, and then nodded to his red friend, who returned the courtesy. +As poor Tom left the room, he saw that nothing was to be hoped for in this +quarter, and determined to beat the garrison to arms without any further delay. +Scarcely had he closed the door behind him, when a sudden thought flashed +through his brain. He hesitated, walked forward a few paces, stopped again, and +calling out to the corporal, said— +</p> + +<p> +“You are certain they were militia?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; quite sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, by Jove, I have it,” cried O’Flaherty. “If they +should turn out to be the Buffalo fencibles, we may get through this scrape +better than I hoped for.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you are right, sir; for I heard one of the men as I passed +observe, ‘what will they say in Buffalo when it’s +over?’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Send Mathers here, corporal; and do you order four rank and file, with +side-arms to be in readiness immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mathers, you have heard the news,” said O’Flaherty, as the +sergeant entered. “Can the Fort hold out against such a force as Jackson +reports? You doubt; well, so do I; so let’s see what’s to be done. +Can you remember, was it not the Buffalo militia that were so tremendously +thrashed by the Delawares last autumn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, they chased them for two days and nights, and had they not +reached the town of Buffalo, the Delawares would not have left a scalp in the +regiment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you recollect the chief’s name—it was +Carran—something, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Caudan-dacwagae.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly. Where is he supposed to be now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Up in Detroit, sir, they say, but no one knows. Those fellows are here +to-day, and there to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well then, sergeant, here’s my plan.” Saying these words, +O’Flaherty proceeded to walk towards his quarters, accompanied by the +sergeant, with whom he conversed for some time eagerly—occasionally +replying, as it appeared, to objections, and offering explanations as the other +seemed to require them. The colloquy lasted half an hour—and although the +veteran sergeant seemed difficult of conviction, it ended by his saying, as he +left the room, +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, as you say, it can only come to hard knocks at worst. Here +goes—I’ll send off the scout party to make the fires and choose the +men for the out picquets, for no time is to be lost.” +</p> + +<p> +In about an hour’s time from the scene I have mentioned, a number of +militia officers, of different grades, were seated round a bivouac fire, upon +the bank of the Niagara river. The conversation seemed of an angry nature, for +the voices of the speakers were loud and irrascible, and their gestures +evidenced a state of high excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said one, who seemed the superior of the +party—“I see well where this will end. We shall have another +Queenston affair, as we had last fall with the Delawares.” +</p> + +<p> +“I only say,” replied another, “that if you wish our men to +stand fire to-morrow morning, the less you remind them of the Delawares the +better. What is that noise? Is not that a drum beating?” +</p> + +<p> +The party at these words sprung to their legs, and stood in an attitude of +listening for some seconds. +</p> + +<p> +“Who goes there?” sung out a sentinel from his post; and then, +after a moment’s delay, added—“Pass flag of truce to Major +Brown’s quarters.” +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely were the words spoken, when three officers in scarlet, preceded by a +drummer with a white flag, stood before the American party. +</p> + +<p> +“To whom may I address myself?” said one of the British—who, +I may inform my reader, en passant, was no other than +O’Flaherty—“To whom may I address myself as the officer in +command?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am Major Brown,” said a short, plethoric little man, in a blue +uniform and round hat—“And who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Major O’Flaherty, of his majesty’s fifth foot,” said +Tom, with a very sonorous emphasis on each word—“the bearer of a +flag of truce and an amicable proposition from Major-General Allen, commanding +the garrison of Fort Peak.” +</p> + +<p> +The Americans, who were evidently taken by surprise at their intentions of +attack being known, were silent, while he continued— +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, it may appear somewhat strange that a garrison, possessing +the natural strength of a powerful position—supplied with abundant +ammunition and every muniment of war—should despatch a flag of truce on +the eve of an attack, in preference to waiting for the moment, when a sharp and +well-prepared reception might best attest its vigilance and discipline. But the +reasons for this step are soon explained. In the first place, you intend a +surprise. We have been long aware of your projected attack. Our spies have +tracked you from your crossing the river above the whirlpool to your present +position. Every man of your party is numbered by us; and, what is still more, +numbered by our allies—yes, gentlemen, I must repeat it, +‘allies’—though, as a Briton, I blush at the word. Shame and +disgrace for ever be that man’s portion, who first associated the +honourable usages of war with the atrocious and bloody cruelties of the savage. +Yet so it is: the Delawares of the hills”—here the Yankees +exchanged very peculiar looks—“have this morning arrived at Fort +Peak, with orders to ravage the whole of your frontier, from Fort George to +Lake Erie. They brought us the information of your approach, and their chief +is, while I speak, making an infamous proposition, by which a price is to paid +for every scalp he produces in the morning. Now, as the general cannot refuse +to co-operate with the savages, without compromising himself with the +commander-in-chief, neither can he accept of such assistance without some pangs +of conscience. He has taken the only course open to him: he has despatched +myself and my brother officers here”—O’Flaherty glanced at +two privates dressed up in his regimentals—“to offer you +terms”— +</p> + +<p> +O’Flaherty paused when he arrived thus far, expecting that the opposite +party would make some reply; but they continued silent: when suddenly, from the +dense forest, there rung forth a wild and savage yell, that rose and fell +several times, like the pibroch of the highlander, and ended at last in a loud +whoop, that was echoed and re-echoed again and again for several seconds after. +</p> + +<p> +“Hark!” said O’Flaherty, with an accent of +horror—“Hark! the war-cry of the Delawares! The savages are eager +for their prey. May it yet be time enough to rescue you from such a fate! Time +presses—our terms are these—as they do not admit of discussion, and +must be at once accepted or rejected, to your own ear alone can I impart +them.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying which, he took Major Brown aside, and, walking apart from the others, +led him, by slow steps, into the forest. While O’Flaherty continued to +dilate upon the atrocities of Indian war, and the revengeful character of the +savages, he contrived to be always advancing towards the river side, till at +length the glare of a fire was perceptible through the gloom. Major Brown +stopped suddenly, and pointed in the direction of the flame. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the Indian picquet,” said O’Flaherty, calmly; +“and as the facts I have been detailing may be more palpable to your +mind, you shall see them with your own eyes. Yes, I repeat it, you shall, +through the cover of this brushwood, see Caudan-dacwagae himself—for he +is with them in person.” +</p> + +<p> +As O’Flaherty said this, he led Major Brown, now speechless with terror, +behind a massive cork tree, from which spot they could look down upon the river +side, where in a small creek sat five or six persons in blankets, and scarlet +head-dresses; their faces streaked with patches of yellow and red paint, to +which the glare of the fire lent fresh horror. In the midst sat one, whose +violent gestures and savage cries gave him the very appearance of a demon, as +he resisted with all his might the efforts of the others to restrain him, +shouting like a maniac all the while, and struggling to rise. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the chief,” said O’Flaherty; “he will wait no +longer. We have bribed the others to keep him quiet, if possible, a little +time; but I see they cannot succeed.” +</p> + +<p> +A loud yell of triumph from below interrupted Tom’s speech. The +infuriated savage—who was no other than Mr. Malone—having obtained +the rum bottle, for which he was fighting with all his might—his temper +not being improved in the struggle by occasional admonitions from the red end +of a cigar, applied to his naked skin by the other Indians—who were his +own soldiers acting under O’Flaherty’s orders. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Tom, “that you have convinced yourself, and can +satisfy your brother officers, will you take your chance? or will you accept +the honoured terms of the General—pile your arms, and retreat beyond the +river before day-break? Your muskets and ammunition will offer a bribe to the +cupidity of the savage, and delay his pursuit till you can reach some place of +safety.” +</p> + +<p> +Major Brown heard the proposal in silence, and at last determined upon +consulting his brother officers. +</p> + +<p> +“I have outstaid my time,” said O’Flaherty, “but stop; +the lives of so many are at stake, I consent.” Saying which, they walked +on without speaking, till they arrived where the others were standing around +the watch-fire. +</p> + +<p> +As Brown retired to consult with the officers, Tom heard with pleasure how much +his two companions had worked upon the Yankees’ fears, during his +absence, by details of the vindictive feelings of the Delawares, and their vows +to annihilate the Buffalo militia. +</p> + +<p> +Before five minutes they had decided. Upon a solemn pledge from +O’Flaherty that the terms of the compact were to be observed as he stated +them, they agreed to march with their arms to the ford, where, having piled +them, they were to cross over, and make the best of their way home. +</p> + +<p> +By sunrise the next morning, all that remained of the threatened attack on Fort +Peak, were the smouldering ashes of some wood fires—eighty muskets piled +in the fort—and the yellow ochre, and red stripes that still adorned the +countenance of the late Indian chief,—but now snoring Lieutenant Maurice +Malone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch48" id="ch48"></a> CHAPTER XLVIII.<br/> +THE COURIER’S PASSPORT.</h2> + +<p> +A second night succeeded the long dreary day of the diligence, and the only one +agreeable reflection arose in the feeling that every mile travelled, was +diminishing the chance of pursuit, and removing me still further from that +scene of trouble and annoyance that was soon to furnish gossip for +Paris—under the title of “The Affaire O’Leary.” +</p> + +<p> +How he was ever to extricate himself from the numerous and embarrassing +difficulties of his position, gave me, I confess, less uneasiness than the +uncertainty of my own fortunes. Luck seemed ever to befriend him—me it +had always accompanied far enough through life to make its subsequent desertion +more painful. How far I should blame myself for this, I stopped not to +consider; but brooded over the fact in a melancholy and discontented mood. The +one thought uppermost in my mind was, how will Lady Jane receive me—am I +forgotten—or am I only remembered as the subject of that unlucky mistake, +when, under the guise of an elder son, I was feted and made much of. What +pretensions I had, without fortune, rank, influence, or even expectations of +any kind, to seek the hand of the most beautiful girl of the day, with the +largest fortune as her dowry, I dare not ask myself—the reply would have +dashed all my hopes, and my pursuit would have at once been abandoned. +“Tell the people you are an excellent preacher,” was the advice of +an old and learned divine to a younger and less experienced +one—“tell them so every morning, and every noon, and every evening, +and at last they will begin to believe it.” So thought I. I shall impress +upon the Callonbys that I am a most unexceptionable “parti.” Upon +every occasion they shall hear it—as they open their newspapers at +breakfast—as they sip their soup at luncheon—as they adjust their +napkin at dinner—as they chat over their wine at night. My influence in +the house shall be unbounded—my pleasures consulted—my dislikes +remembered. The people in favour with me shall dine there three times +a-week—those less fortunate shall be put into schedule A. My opinions on +all subjects shall be a law—whether I pronounce upon politics, or discuss +a dinner: and all this I shall accomplish by a successful flattery of my +lady—a little bullying of my lord—a devoted attention to the +youngest sister—a special cultivation of Kilkee—and a very +“prononce” neglect of Lady Jane. These were my half-waking +thoughts, as the heavy diligence rumbled over the pave into Nancy; and I was +aroused by the door being suddenly jerked open, and a bronzed face, with a +black beard and moustache, being thrust in amongst us. +</p> + +<p> +“Your passports, Messieurs,” as a lantern was held up in succession +across our faces, and we handed forth our crumpled and worn papers to the +official. +</p> + +<p> +The night was stormy and dark—gusts of wind sweeping along, bearing with +them the tail of some thunder cloud—mingling their sounds with a falling +tile from the roofs, or a broken chimney-pot. The officer in vain endeavoured +to hold open the passports while he inscribed his name; and just as the last +scrawl was completed, the lantern went out. Muttering a heavy curse upon the +weather, he thrust them in upon us en masse, and, banging the door to, called +out to the conducteur, “en route.” +</p> + +<p> +Again we rumbled on, and, ere we cleared the last lamps of the town, the whole +party were once more sunk in sleep, save myself. Hour after hour rolled by, the +rain pattering upon the roof, and the heavy plash of the horses’ feet +contributing their mournful sounds to the melancholy that was stealing over me. +At length we drew up at the door of a little auberge; and, by the noise and +bustle without, I perceived there was a change of horses. Anxious to stretch my +legs, and relieve, if even for a moment, the wearisome monotony of the night, I +got out and strode into the little parlour of the inn. There was a cheerful +fire in an open stove, beside which stood a portly figure in a sheepskin bunta +and a cloth travelling cap, with a gold band; his legs were cased in high +Russia leather boots, all evident signs of the profession of the wearer, had +even his haste at supper not bespoke the fact that he was a government courier. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better make haste with the horses, Antoine, if you don’t +wish the postmaster to hear of it,” said he, as I entered, his mouth +filled with pie crust and vin de Beaune, as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +A lumbering peasant, with a blouse, sabots, and a striped nightcap, replied in +some unknown patois; when the courier again said— +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, take the diligence horses; I must get on at all events; they +are not so presse, I’ll be bound; besides it will save the +gens-d’armes some miles of a ride if they overtake them here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have we another vise of our passports here, then?” said I, +addressing the courier, “for we have already been examined at +Nancy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly a vise,” said the courier, eyeing me most suspiciously +as he spoke, and then continuing to eat with his former voracity. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, what, may I ask, have we to do with the gens-d’armes?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a search,” said the courier, gruffly, and with the air of +one who desired no further questioning. +</p> + +<p> +I immediately ordered a bottle of Burgundy, and filling the large goblet before +him, said, with much respect, +</p> + +<p> +“A votre bonne voyage, Monsier le Courier.” +</p> + +<p> +To this he at once replied, by taking off his cap and bowing politely as he +drank off the wine. +</p> + +<p> +“Have we any runaway felon or a stray galerien among us?” said I, +laughingly, “that they are going to search us?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur,” said the courier; “but there has been a +government order to arrest a person on this road connected with the dreadful +Polish plot, that has just eclated at Paris. I passed a vidette of cavalry at +Nancy, and they will be up here in half an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“A Polish plot! Why, I left Paris only two days ago, and never heard of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“C’est bien possible, Monsieur? Perhaps, after all, it may only be +an affair of the police; but they have certainly arrested one prisoner at +Meurice, charged with this, as well as the attempt to rob Frascati, and murder +the croupier.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas,” said I, with a half-suppressed groan, “it is too +true; that infernal fellow O’Leary has ruined me, and I shall be brought +back to Paris, and only taken from prison to meet the open shame and ignominy +of a public trial.” +</p> + +<p> +What was to be done?—every moment was precious. I walked to the door to +conceal my agitation. All was dark and gloomy. The thought of escape was my +only one; but how to accomplish it! Every stir without suggested to my anxious +mind the approaching tread of horses—every rattle of the harness seemed +like the clink of accoutrements. +</p> + +<p> +While I yet hesitated, I felt that my fate was in the balance. Concealment +where I was, was impossible; there were no means of obtaining horses to +proceed. My last only hope then rested in the courier; he perhaps might be +bribed to assist me at this juncture. Still his impression as to the enormity +of the crime imputed, might deter him; and there was no time for explanation, +if even he would listen to it. I returned to the room; he had finished his +meal, and was now engaged in all the preparations for encountering a wet and +dreary night. I hesitated; my fears that if he should refuse my offers, all +chance of my escape was gone, deterred me for a moment. At length as he wound a +large woollen shawl around his throat, and seemed to have completed his +costume, I summoned nerve for the effort, and with as much boldness in my +manner as I could muster, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur le Courier, one word with you.” I here closed the door, +and continued. “My fortunes—my whole prospects in life depend upon +my reaching Strasbourg by to-morrow night. You alone can be the means of my +doing so. Is there any price you can mention, for which you will render me this +service?—if so, name it.” +</p> + +<p> +“So then, Monsieur,” said the Courier, slowly—“so, +then, you are the—” +</p> + +<p> +“You have guessed it,” said I, interrupting. “Do you accept +my proposal?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is impossible,” said he, “utterly impossible; for even +should I be disposed to run the risk on my own account, it would avail you +nothing; the first town we entered your passport would be demanded, and not +being vised by the minister to travel en courier, you would at once be detained +and arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then am I lost,” said I, throwing myself upon a chair; at the same +instant my passport, which I carried in my breast pocket, fell out at the feet +of the courier. He lifted it and opened it leisurely. So engrossed was I by my +misfortunes, that for some minutes I did not perceive, that as he continued to +read the passport, he smiled from time to time, till at length a hearty fit of +laughing awoke me from my abstraction. My first impulse was to seize him by the +throat; controlling my temper, however, with an effort, I said— +</p> + +<p> +“And pray, Monsieur, may I ask in what manner the position I stand in at +this moment affords you so much amusement? Is there any thing so particularly +droll—any thing so excessively ludicrous in my situation—or what +particular gift do you possess that shall prevent me throwing you out of the +window?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mais, Monsieur,” said he, half stifled with laughter, “do +you know the blunder I fell into? it is really too good. Could you only guess +who I took you for, you would laugh too.” +</p> + +<p> +Here he became so overcome with merriment, that he was obliged to sit down, +which he did opposite to me, and actually shook with laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“When this comedy is over,” thought I, “we may begin to +understand each other.” Seeing no prospect of this, I became at length +impatient, and jumping on my legs, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Enough, sir, quite enough of this foolery. Believe me, you have every +reason to be thankful that my present embarrassment should so far engross me, +that I cannot afford time to give you a thrashing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, mille pardons,” said he humbly; “but you will, I am +sure, forgive me when I tell you that I was stupid enough to mistake you for +the fugitive Englishman, whom the gens-d’armes are in pursuit of. How +good, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! devilish good—but what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, the fellow that caused the attack at Frascati, and all that, +and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—well, eh? Did you think I was him?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure I did, till I saw your passport.” +</p> + +<p> +“Till you saw my passport!” Why, what on earth can he mean? thought +I. “No, but,” said I, half jestingly, “how could you make +such a blunder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, your confused manner—your impatience to get on—your +hurried questions, all convinced me. In fact, I’d have wagered any thing +you were the Englishman.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what, in heaven’s name, does he think me now?” thought +I, as I endeavoured to join the laugh so ludicrous a mistake occasioned. +</p> + +<p> +“But we are delaying sadly,” said the courier. “Are you +ready?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ready?—ready for what?” +</p> + +<p> +“To go on with me, of course. Don’t you wish to get early to +Strasbourg?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, come along. But, pray, don’t mind your luggage, for my +caleche is loaded. Your instruments can come in the diligence.” +</p> + +<p> +“My instruments in the diligence! He’s mad—that’s +flat.” +</p> + +<p> +“How they will laugh at Strasbourg at my mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“That they will,” thought I. “The only doubt is, will you +join in the merriment?” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, I followed the courier to the door, jumped into his caleche, and in +another moment was hurrying over the pave at a pace that defied pursuit, and +promised soon to make up for all our late delay. Scarcely was the fur-lined +apron of the caleche buttoned around me, and the German blinds let down, when I +set to work to think over the circumstance that had just befallen me. As I had +never examined my passport from the moment Trevanion handed it to me in Paris, +I knew nothing of its contents; therefore, as to what impression it might +convey of me, I was totally ignorant. To ask the courier for it now might +excite suspicion; so that I was totally at sea how to account for his sudden +change in my favour, or in what precise capacity I was travelling beside him. +Once, and once only, the thought of treachery occurred to me. Is he about to +hand me over to the gens-d’armes? and are we now only retracing our steps +towards Nancy? If so, Monsieur le Courier, whatever be my fate, your’s is +certainly an unenviable one. My reflections on this head were soon broken in +upon, for my companion again returned to the subject of his “singular +error,” and assured me that he was as near as possible leaving me behind, +under the mistaken impression of my being “myself;” and informed me +that all Strasbourg would be delighted to see me, which latter piece of news +was only the more flattering, that I knew no one there, nor had ever been in +that city in my life; and after about an hour’s mystification as to my +tastes, habits, and pursuits, he fell fast asleep, leaving me to solve the +difficult problem as to whether I was not somebody else, or the only +alternative—whether travelling en courier might not be prescribed by +physicians as a mode of treating insane patients. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch49" id="ch49"></a> CHAPTER XLIX.<br/> +A NIGHT IN STRASBOURG.</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus21"></a> +<a href="images/fig21.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig21.jpg" width="410" height="600" alt="Illustration: +Lorrequer’s Debut at Strasburg" /></a> +<p class="caption">Lorrequer’s Debut at Strasburg</p> +</div> + +<p> +With the dawn of day my miseries recommenced; for after letting down the sash, +and venting some very fervent imprecations upon the postillion for not going +faster than his horses were able, the courier once more recurred to his last +night’s blunder, and proceeded very leisurely to catechise me as to my +probable stay at Strasbourg, when I should go from there, &c. As I was +still in doubt what or whom he took me for, I answered with the greatest +circumspection—watching, the while, for any clue that might lead me to a +discovery of myself. Thus, occasionally evading all pushing and home queries, +and sometimes, when hard pressed, feigning drowsiness, I passed the long and +anxious day—the fear of being overtaken ever mingling with the thoughts +that some unlucky admission of mine might discover my real character to the +courier, who, at any post station, might hand me over to the authorities. Could +I only guess at the part I am performing, thought I, and I might manage to keep +up the illusion; but my attention was so entirely engrossed by fencing off all +his threats, that I could find out nothing. At last, as night drew near, the +thought that we were approaching Strasbourg rallied my spirits, suggesting an +escape from all pursuit, as well as the welcome prospect of getting rid of my +present torturer, who, whenever I awoke from a doze, reverted to our singular +meeting with a pertinacity that absolutely seemed like malice. +</p> + +<p> +“As I am aware that this is your first visit to Strasbourg,” said +the courier, “perhaps I can be of service to you in recommending a hotel. +Put up, I advise you, at the ‘Bear’—a capital hotel, and not +ten minutes’ distance from the theatre.” +</p> + +<p> +I thanked him for the counsel; and, rejoicing in the fact that my prototype, +whoever he might be, was unknown in the city, began to feel some little hope of +getting through this scrape, as I had done so many others. +</p> + +<p> +“They have been keeping the ‘Huguenots’ for your arrival, and +all Strasbourg is impatient for your coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said I, mumbling something meant to be modest. “Who +the devil am I, then, to cause all this fracas? Heaven grant, not the new +‘prefect,’ or the commander of the forces.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am told the ‘Zauberflotte’ is your favourite opera?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t say that I ever heard it—that is, I mean that I +could say—well got up.” +</p> + +<p> +Here I floundered on having so far forgot myself as to endanger every thing. +</p> + +<p> +“How very unfortunate! Well, I hope you will not long have as much to +say. Meanwhile, here we are—this is the ‘Bear.’” +</p> + +<p> +We rattled into the ample porte cochere of a vast hotel—the postillion +cracking his enormous whip, and bells ringing on every side, as if the crown +prince of Russia had been the arrival, and not a poor sub. in the —th. +</p> + +<p> +The courier jumped out, and running up to the landlord, whispered a few words +in his ear, to which the other answered by a deep “ah, vraiment!” +and then saluted me with an obsequiousness that made my flesh quake. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall make ‘mes hommages’ in the morning,” said the +courier, as he drove off at full speed to deliver his despatches, and left me +to my own devices to perform a character, without even being able to guess what +it might be. My passport, too, the only thing that could throw any light upon +the affair, he had taken along with him, promising to have it vised, and save +me any trouble. +</p> + +<p> +Of all my difficulties and puzzling situations in life, this was certainly the +worst; for however often my lot had been to personate another, yet hitherto I +had had the good fortune to be aware of what and whom I was performing. Now I +might be any body from Marshal Soult to Monsieur Scribe; one thing only was +certain, I must be a “celebrity.” The confounded pains and trouble +they were taking to receive me, attested that fact, and left me to the pleasing +reflection that my detection, should it take place, would be sure of attracting +a very general publicity. Having ordered my supper from the landlord, with a +certain air of reserve, sufficient to prevent even an Alsace host from +obtruding any questions upon me, I took my opportunity to stroll from the inn +down to the river side. There lay the broad, rapid Rhine, separating me, by how +narrow a gulph, from that land, where, if I once arrived, my safety was +certain. Never did that great boundary of nations strike me so forcibly, as now +when my own petty interests and fortunes were at stake. Night was fast settling +upon the low flat banks of the stream, and nothing stirred, save the ceaseless +ripple of the river. One fishing barque alone was on the water. I hailed the +solitary tenant of it, and after some little parley, induced him to ferry me +over. This, however, could only be done when the night was farther +advanced—it being against the law to cross the river except at certain +hours, and between two established points, where officers of the revenue were +stationed. The fisherman was easily bribed, however, to evade the regulation, +and only bargained that I should meet him on the bank before daybreak. Having +settled this point to my satisfaction, I returned to my hotel in better +spirits; and with a Strasbourg pate, and a flask of Nierensteiner, drank to my +speedy deliverance. +</p> + +<p> +How to consume the long, dreary hours between this time and that of my +departure, I knew not; for though greatly fatigued, I felt that sleep was +impossible; the usual resource of a gossip with the host was equally out of the +question; and all that remained was the theatre, which I happily remembered was +not far from the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +It was an opera night, and the house was crowded to excess; but with some +little management, I obtained a place in a box near the stage. The piece was +“Les Franc Macons,” which was certainly admirably supported, and +drew down from the audience—no mean one as judges of music—the +loudest thunders of applause. As for me, the house was a great a curiosity as +the opera. The novel spectacle of some hundred (thousand?) people relishing and +appreciating the highest order of musical genius, was something totally new and +surprising to me. The curtain at length fell upon the fifth act. +</p> + +<p> +And now the deafening roar of acclamation was tremendous; and amid a perfect +shout of enthusiasm, the manager announced the opera for the ensuing evening. +Scarcely had this subsided, when a buzz ran through the house; at first +subdued, but gradually getting louder—extending from the boxes to the +balcone—from the balcone to the parterre—and finally even to the +galleries. Groups of people stood upon the benches, and looked fixedly in one +part of the house; then changed and regarded as eagerly the other. +</p> + +<p> +What can this mean? thought I. Is the theatre on fire? Something surely has +gone wrong! +</p> + +<p> +In this conviction, with the contagious spirit of curiosity, I mounted upon a +seat, and looked about me on every side; but unable still to catch the object +which seemed to attract the rest, as I was about to resume my place, my eyes +fell upon a well-known face, which in an instant I remembered was that of my +late fellow-traveller the courier. Anxious to avoid his recognition, I +attempted to get down at once; but before I could accomplish it, the wretch had +perceived and recognised me; and I saw him, even with a gesture of delight, +point me out to some friends beside him. +</p> + +<p> +“Confound the fellow,” muttered I; “I must leave this at +once, or I shall be involved in some trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely was my my resolve taken, when a new burst of voices arose from the +pit—the words “l’Auteur,” “l’Auteur,” +mingling with loud cries for “Meerberger,” +“Meerberger,” to appear. So, thought I, it seems the great composer +is here. Oh, by Jove! I must have a peep at him before I go. So, leaning over +the front rail of the box, I looked anxiously about to catch one hasty glimpse +of one of the great men of his day and country. What was my surprise, however, +to perceive that about two thousand eyes were firmly rivetted upon the box I +was seated in; while about half the number of tongues called out unceasingly, +“Mr. Meerberger—vive Meerberger—vive l’Auteur des Franc +Macons—vive Franc Macons,” &c. Before I could turn to look for +the hero of the scene, my legs were taken from under me, and I felt myself +lifted by several strong men and held out in front of the box, while the whole +audience, rising en masse, saluted me—yes, me, Harry Lorrequer—with +a cheer that shook the building. Fearful of precipitating myself into the pit +beneath, if I made the least effort, and half wild with terror and amazement, I +stared about like a maniac, while a beautiful young woman tripped along the +edge of the box, supported by her companion’s hand, and placed lightly +upon my brow a chaplet of roses and laurel. Here the applause was like an +earthquake. +</p> + +<p> +“May the devil fly away with half of ye,” was my grateful response, +to as full a cheer of applause as ever the walls of the house re-echoed to. +</p> + +<p> +“On the stage—on the stage!” shouted that portion of the +audience who, occupying the same side of the house as myself, preferred having +a better view of me; and to the stage I was accordingly hurried, down a narrow +stair, through a side scene, and over half the corps de ballet who were waiting +for their entree. Kicking, plunging, buffetting like a madman, they carried me +to the “flats,” when the manager led me forward to the foot lights, +my wreath of flowers contrasting rather ruefully with my bruised cheeks and +torn habiliments. Human beings, God be praised, are only capable of certain +efforts—so that one-half the audience were coughing their sides out, +while the other were hoarse as bull-frogs from their enthusiasm in less than +five minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have what my friend Rooney calls a chronic bronchitis for +this, these three weeks,” said I, “that’s one comfort,” +as I bowed my way back to the “practicable” door, through which I +made my exit, with the thousand faces of the parterre shouting my name, or, as +fancy dictated, that of one of “my” operas. I retreated behind the +scenes, to encounter very nearly as much, and at closer quarters, too, as that +lately sustained before the audience. After an embrace of two minutes duration +from the manager, I ran the gauntlet from the prima donna to the last triangle +of the orchestra, who cut away a back button of my coat as a +“souvenir.” During all this, I must confess, very little acting was +needed on my part. They were so perfectly contented with their self-deception, +that if I had made an affidavit before the mayor—if there be such a +functionary in such an insane town—they would not have believed me. +Wearied and exhausted at length, by all I had gone through, I sat down upon a +bench, and, affecting to be overcome by my feelings, concealed my face in my +handkerchief. This was the first moment of relief I experienced since my +arrival; but it was not to last long, for the manager, putting down his head +close to my ear, whispered— +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Meerberger, I have a surprise for you—such as you have +not had for some time, I venture to say”— +</p> + +<p> +“I defy you on this head,” thought I. “If they make me out +king Solomon now, it will not amaze me”— +</p> + +<p> +“And when I tell you my secret,” continued he, “you will +acknowledge I cannot be of a very jealous disposition. Madame Baptiste has just +told me she knew you formerly, and that—she—that is, +you—were—in fact, you understand—there had been—so to +say—a little ‘amourette’ between you.” +</p> + +<p> +I groaned in spirit as I thought, now am I lost without a chance of +escape—the devil take her reminiscences. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” continued le bon mari, “you cannot guess of whom I +speak; but when I tell you of Amelie Grandet, your memory will, perhaps, be +better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Amelie Grandet!” said I, with a stage start. I need not say that I +had never heard the name before. “Amelie Grandet here!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that she is,” said the manager, rubbing his hands; “and +my wife, too”— +</p> + +<p> +“Married!—Amelie Grandet married! No, no; it is impossible—I +cannot believe it. But were it true—true, mark me—for worlds would +I not meet her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Comment il est drole,” said the manager, soliloquising aloud; +“for my wife takes it much easier, seeing they never met each other since +they were fifteen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ho, ho!” thought I, “the affair is not so bad +either—time makes great changes in that space.” “And does she +still remember me?” said I, in a very Romeo-in-the-garden voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, so far as remembering the little boy that used to play with her in +the orchard at her mother’s cottage near Pirna, and with whom she used to +go boating upon the Elbe, I believe the recollection is perfect. But come +along—she insists upon seeing you, and is this very moment waiting supper +in our room for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“A thorough German she must be,” thought I, “with her +sympathies and her supper—her reminiscences and her Rhine wine hunting in +couples through her brain.” +</p> + +<p> +Summoning courage from the fact of our long absence from each other, I followed +the manager through a wilderness of pavilions, forests, clouds and cataracts, +and at length arrived at a little door, at which he knocked gently. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” said a soft voice inside. We opened, and beheld a very +beautiful young woman, in Tyrolese costume. She was to perform in the +afterpiece—her low boddice and short scarlet petticoat displaying the +most perfect symmetry of form and roundness of proportion. She was dressing her +hair before a low glass as we came in, and scarcely turned at our approach; but +in an instant, as if some sudden thought had struck her, she sprung fully +round, and looking at me fixedly for above a minute—a very trying one for +me—she glanced at her husband, whose countenance plainly indicated that +she was right, and calling out, “C’est lui—c’est bien +lui,” threw herself into my arms, and sobbed convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +“If this were to be the only fruits of my impersonation,” thought +I, “it is not so bad—but I am greatly afraid these good people will +find out a wife and seven babies for me before morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Whether the manager thought that enough had been done for stage effect, I know +not; but he gently disengaged the lovely Amelie, and deposited her upon a sofa, +to a place upon which she speedily motioned me by a look from a pair of very +seducing blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Francois, mon cher, you must put off La Chaumiere. I can’t play +to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Put it off! But only think of the audience, ma mie—they will pull +down the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“C’est possible,” said she, carelessly. “If that give +them any pleasure, I suppose they must be indulged; but I, too, must have a +little of my own way. I shall not play.” +</p> + +<p> +The tone this was said in—the look—the easy gesture of +command—no less than the afflicted helplessness of the luckless husband, +showed me that Amelie, however docile as a sweetheart, had certainly her own +way as wife. +</p> + +<p> +While Le cher Francois then retired, to make his proposition to the audience, +of substituting something for the Chaumiere—the “sudden illness of +Madame Baptiste having prevented her appearance,”—we began to renew +our old acquaintance, by a thousand inquiries from that long-past time, when we +were sweethearts and lovers. +</p> + +<p> +“You remember me then so well?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“As of yesterday. You are much taller, and your eyes darker; but +still—there is something. You know, however, I have been expecting to see +you these two days; and tell me frankly how do you find me looking?” +</p> + +<p> +“More beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever—all save +in one thing, Amelie.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that is—” +</p> + +<p> +“You are married.” +</p> + +<p> +“How you jest. But let us look back. Do you ever think on any of our old +compacts?” Here she pulled a leaf from a rose bud in her bouquet, and +kissed it. “I wager you have forgotten that.” +</p> + +<p> +How I should have replied to this masonic sign, God knows; but the manager +fortunately entered, to assure us that the audience had kindly consented not to +pull down the house, but to listen to a five act tragedy instead, in which he +had to perform the principal character. “So, then, don’t wait +supper, Amelie; but take care of Monsieur Meerberger till my return.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus, once more were we left to our souvenirs, in which, whenever hard pushed +myself, I regularly carried the war into the enemy’s camp, by allusions +to incidents, which I need not observe had never occurred. After a thousand +stories of our early loves, mingled with an occasional sigh over their fleeting +character—now indulging a soft retrospect of the once happy +past—now moralising on the future—Amelie and I chatted away the +hours till the conclusion of the tragedy. +</p> + +<p> +By this time, the hour was approaching for my departure; so, after a very +tender leave-taking with my new friend and my old love, I left the theatre, and +walked slowly along to the river. +</p> + +<p> +“So much for early associations,” thought I; “and how much +better pleased are we ever to paint the past according to our own fancy, than +to remember it as it really was. Hence all the insufferable cant about happy +infancy, and ‘the glorious schoolboy days,’ which have generally no +more foundation in fact than have the ‘Chateaux en Espagne’ we +build up for the future. I wager that the real Amant d’enfance, when he +arrives, is not half so great a friend with the fair Amelie as his unworthy +shadow. At the same time, I had just as soon that Lady Jane should have no +‘premiers amours’ to look back upon, except such as I have +performed a character in.” +</p> + +<p> +The plash of oars near me broke up my reflections, and the next moment found me +skimming the rapid Rhine, as I thought for the last time. What will they say in +Strasbourg to-morrow? How will they account for the mysterious disappearance of +Monsieur Meerberger? Poor Amelie Grandet! For so completely had the late +incidents engrossed my attention, that I had for the moment lost sight of the +most singular event of all—how I came to be mistaken for the illustrious +composer. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch50" id="ch50"></a> CHAPTER L.<br/> +A SURPRISE.</h2> + +<p> +It was late upon the following day ere I awoke from the long deep sleep that +closed my labours in Strasbourg. In the confusion of my waking thoughts, I +imagined myself still before a crowded and enthusiastic audience—the +glare of the foot-lights—the crash of the orchestra—the shouts of +“l’Auteur,” “l’Auteur,” were all before me, +and so completely possessed me, that, as the waiter entered with hot water, I +could not resist the impulse to pull off my night-cap with one hand, and press +the other to my heart in the usual theatrical style of acknowledgments for a +most flattering reception. The startled look of the poor fellow as he neared +the door to escape, roused me from my hallucination, and awakened me to the +conviction that the suspicion of lunacy might be a still heavier infliction +than the personation of Monsieur Meerberger. +</p> + +<p> +With thoughts of this nature, I assumed my steadiest demeanour—ordered my +breakfast in the most orthodox fashion—eat it like a man in his senses; +and when I threw myself back in the wicker conveniency they call a caleche, and +bid adieu to Kehl, the whole fraternity of the inn would have given me a +certificate of sanity before any court in Europe. +</p> + +<p> +“Now for Munich,” said I, as we rattled along down the steep street +of the little town. “Now for Munich, with all the speed that first of +postmasters and slowest of men, the Prince of Tour and Taxis, will afford +us.” +</p> + +<p> +The future engrossed all my thoughts; and puzzling as my late adventures had +been to account for, I never for a moment reverted to the past. “Is she +to be mine?” was the ever-rising question in my mind. The thousand +difficulties that had crossed my path might long since have terminated a +pursuit where there was so little of promise, did I not cherish the idea in my +heart, that I was fated to succeed. Sheridan answered the ribald sneers of his +first auditory, by saying, “Laugh on; but I have it in me, and by +—— it shall come out.” So I whispered to myself:—Go on +Harry. Luck has been hitherto against you, it is true; but you have yet one +throw of the dice, and something seems to say, a fortunate one in store; and, +if so——, but I cannot trust myself with such anticipations. I am +well aware how little the world sympathises with the man whose fortunes are the +sport of his temperament—that April-day frame of mind is ever the jest +and scoff of those hardier and sterner natures, who, if never overjoyed by +success, are never much depressed by failure. That I have been cast in the +former mould, these Confessions have, alas! plainly proved; but that I regret +it, I fear also, for my character for sound judgment, I must answer +“No.” +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Better far to be<br/> + In utter darkness lying,<br/> +Than be blest with light, and see<br/> + That light for ever flying +</p> + +<p> +Is, doubtless, very pretty poetry, but very poor philosophy. For +myself—and some glimpses of sunshine this fair world has afforded me, +fleeting and passing enough, in all conscience—and yet I am not so +ungrateful as to repine at my happiness, because it was not permanent, as I am +thankful for those bright hours of “Love’s young dream,” +which, if nothing more, are at least delightful souvenirs. They form the golden +thread in the tangled web of our existence, ever appearing amid the darker +surface around, and throwing a fair halo of brilliancy on what, without it, +were cold, bleak, and barren. No, no— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The light that lies<br/> +In woman’s eyes, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +were it twice as fleeting—as it is ten times more brilliant—than +the forked lightning, irradiates the dark gloom within us for many a long day +after it has ceased to shine upon us. As in boyhood it is the humanizing +influence that tempers the fierce and unruly passions of our nature, so in +manhood it forms the goal to which all our better and higher aspirations tend, +telling us there is something more worthy than gold, and a more lofty pinnacle +of ambition than the praise and envy of our fellow-men; and we may rest +assured, that when this feeling dies within us, that all the ideal of life dies +with it, and nothing remains save the dull reality of our daily cares and +occupations. “I have lived and have loved,” saith Schiller; and if +it were not that there seems some tautology in the phrase, I should say, such +is my own motto. If Lady Jane but prove true—if I have really +succeeded—if, in a word—but why speculate upon such +chances?—what pretensions have I?—what reasons to look for such a +prize? Alas! and alas! were I to catechise myself too closely, I fear that my +horses’ heads would face towards Calais, and that I should turn my back +upon the only prospect of happiness I can picture to myself in this world. In +reflections such as these, the hours rolled over, and it was already late at +night when we reached the little village of Merchem. While fresh horses were +being got ready, I seized the occasion to partake of the table d’hote +supper of the inn, at the door of which the diligence was drawn up. Around the +long, and not over-scrupulously clean table, sat the usual assemblage of a +German “Eilwagen”—smoking, dressing salad, knitting, and +occasionally picking their teeth with their forks, until the soup should make +its appearance. Taking my place amid this motley assemblage of mustachioed +shopkeepers and voluminously-petticoated frows, I sat calculating how long +human patience could endure such companionship, when my attention was aroused +by hearing a person near me narrate to his friend the circumstances of my debut +at Strasbourg, with certain marginal notes of his own that not a little +surprised me. +</p> + +<p> +“And so it turned out not to be Meerberger, after all,”: said the +listener. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not,” replied the other. “Meerberger’s +passport was stolen from him in the diligence by this English escroc, and the +consequence was, that our poor countryman was arrested, the other passport +being found upon him; while the Englishman, proceeding to Strasbourg, took his +benefit at the opera, and walked away with above twelve thousand florins. +</p> + +<p> +“Sappermint” said the other, tossing off his beer. “He must +have been a clever fellow, though, to lead the orchestra in the Franc +Macons.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the most astonishing part of all; for they say in Strasbourg +that his performance upon the violin was far finer than Paganini’s; but +there seems some secret in it, after all: for Madame Baptiste swears that he is +Meerberger; and in fact the matter is far from being cleared up—nor can +it be till he is apprehended.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which shall not be for some time to come,” said I to myself, as, +slipping noiselessly from the room, I regained my “caleche,” and in +ten minutes more was proceeding on my journey. So much for correct information, +thought I. One thing, however, is certain—to the chance interchange of +passports I owe my safety, with the additional satisfaction that my little +German acquaintance is reaping a pleasant retribution for all his worry and +annoyance of me in the coupé. +</p> + +<p> +Only he who has toiled over the weary miles of a long journey—exclusively +occupied with one thought—one overpowering feeling—can adequately +commiserate my impatient anxiety as the days rolled slowly over on the long +tiresome road that leads from the Rhine to the south of Germany. +</p> + +<p> +The morning was breaking on the fourth day of my journey as the tall spires of +Munich rose to my view, amid the dull and arid desert of sand that city is +placed in. At last! was my exclamation as the postilion tapped at the window +with his whip, and then pointed towards the city. At last! Oh! what would be +the extacy of my feelings now could I exchange the torturing anxieties of +suspense for the glorious certainty my heart throbs for; now my journey is +nearing its end to see me claim as my own what I now barely aspire to in the +sanguine hope of a heart that will not despair. But cheer up, Harry. It is a +noble stake you play for; and it is ever the bold gambler that wins. Scarcely +was this reflection made half aloud, when a sudden shock threw me from my seat. +I fell towards the door, which, bursting open, launched me out upon the road, +at the same moment that the broken axletree of the caleche had upset it on the +opposite side, carrying one horse along with it, and leaving the other with the +postillion on his back, kicking and plunging with all his might. After +assisting the frightened fellow to dismount, and having cut the traces of the +restive animal, I then perceived that in the melee I had not escaped +scatheless. I could barely stand; and, on passing my hand upon my instep, +perceived I had sprained my ancle in the fall. The day was only breaking, no +one was in sight, so that after a few minutes’ consideration, the best +thing to do, appeared to get the other horse upon his legs, and despatching the +postillion to Munich, then about three leagues distant, for a carriage, wait +patiently on the road-side for his return. No sooner was the resolve made than +carried into execution; and in less than a quarter of an hour from the moment +of the accident, I was seated upon the bank, watching the retiring figure of +the postillion, as he disappeared down a hill, on his way to Munich. When the +momentary burst of impatience was over, I could not help congratulating myself, +that I was so far fortunate in reaching the end of my journey ere the mischance +befell me. Had it occurred at Stuttgard I really think that it would have half +driven me distracted. +</p> + +<p> +I was not long in my present situation till a number of peasants, with +broad-brimmed hats, and many-buttoned coats, passed on their way to work; they +all saluted me respectfully; but although they saw the broken carriage, and +might well guess at the nature of my accident, yet not one ever thought of +proffering his services, or even indulging curiosity, by way of inquiry. +“How thoroughly German,” thought I; “these people are the +Turks of Europe, stupified with tobacco and ‘starkes bier.’ They +have no thought for any thing but themselves, and their own immediate +occupations.” Perceiving at length one whose better dress and more +intelligent look bespoke a rank above the common, I made the effort with such +“platt deutsch,” as I could muster, to ask if there were any house +near, where I could remain till the postillion’s return? and learned +greatly to my gratification, that by taking the path which led through a grove +of pine trees near me, I should find a chateau; but who was the proprietor he +knew not; indeed the people were only newly come, and he believed were +foreigners. English he thought. Oh, how my heart jumped as I said, “can +they be the Callonbys; are they many in family; are there ladies—young +ladies, among them?”—he knew not. Having hastily arranged with my +new friend to watch the carriage till my return, I took the path he showed me, +and smarting with pain at every step, hurried along as best I could towards the +chateau. I had not walked many minutes, when a break in the wood gave me a view +of the old mansion, and at once dispelled the illusion that was momentarily +gaining upon me. “They could not be the Callonbys.” The house was +old; and though it had once been a fine and handsome structure, exhibited now +abundant traces of decay; the rich cornices which supported the roof had fallen +in many places, and lay in fragments upon the terrace beneath; the portico of +the door was half tumbling; and the architraves of the windows were broken and +dismantled; the tall and once richly ornamented chimnies, were bereft of all +their tracery, and stood bolt upright in all their nakedness above the high +pitched roof. A straggling “jet d’eau” was vigorously +fighting its way amid a mass of creeping shrubs and luxuriant lichens that had +grown around and above a richly carved fountain, and fell in a shower of +sparkling dew upon the rank grass and tall weeds around. The gentle murmur was +the only sound that broke the stillness of the morning. +</p> + +<p> +A few deities in lead and stone, mutilated and broken, stood like the Genii +loci, guarding the desolation about them, where an old, superannuated peacock, +with dropping, ragged tail was the only living thing to be seen. All bespoke +the wreck of what once was great and noble, and all plainly told me that such +could not be the abode of the Callonbys. +</p> + +<p> +Half doubting that the house were inhabited, and half scrupling if so to +disturb its inmates from their rest, I sat down upon the terrace steps and fell +into a fit of musing on the objects about. That strange propensity of my +countrymen to settle down in remote and unfrequented spots upon the continent, +had never struck me so forcibly; for although unquestionably there were evident +traces of the former grandeur of the place, yet it was a long past greatness; +and in the dilapidated walls, broken statues, weed grown walls, and dark and +tangled pine grove, there were more hints for sadness than I should willingly +surround myself by in a residence. The harsh grating of a heavy door behind +roused me; I turned and beheld an old man in a species of tarnished and +worm-eaten livery, who, holding the door, again gazed at me with a mingled +expression of fear and curiosity. Having briefly explained the circumstances +which had befallen me, and appealed to the broken caleche upon the road to +corroborate a testimony that I perceived needed such aid, the old man invited +me to enter, saying that his master and mistress were not risen, but that he +would himself give me some breakfast, of which by this time I stood much in +want. The room into which I was ushered, corresponded well with the exterior of +the house. It was large, bleak, and ill furnished; the ample, uncurtained +windows; the cold, white pannelled walls; the uncarpeted floor; all giving it +an air of uninhabitable misery. A few chairs of the Louis-quatorze taste, with +blue velvet linings, faded and worn, a cracked marble table upon legs that once +had been gilt; two scarcely detectable portraits of a mail-clad hero and a +scarcely less formidable fair, with a dove upon her wrist, formed the principal +articles of furniture in the dismal abode, where so “triste” and +depressing did every thing appear, that I half regretted the curiosity that had +tempted me from the balmy air, and cheerful morning without, to the gloom and +solitude around me. +</p> + +<p> +The old man soon re-appeared with a not despicable cup of “Cafe +noir,” and a piece of bread as large as a teaspoon, and used by the +Germans pretty much in the same way. As the adage of the “gift +horse” is of tolerably general acceptation, I eat and was thankful, +mingling my acknowledgments from time to time with some questions about the +owners of the mansion, concerning whom I could not help feeling curious. The +ancient servitor, however, knew little or nothing of those he served; his +master was the honourable baron; but of his name he was ignorant; his mistress +was young; they had not been many months there; they knew no one—had no +visitors—he had heard they were English, but did not know it himself; +they were “Gute leute,” “good people,” and that was +enough for him. How strange did all this seem, that two people, young, too, +should separate themselves from all the attractions and pleasures of the world, +and settle down in the dark and dreary solitude, where every association was of +melancholy, every object a text for sad reflections. Lost in these thoughts I +sat down beside the window, and heeded not the old man as he noiselessly left +the room. My thoughts ran on over the strange phases in which life presents +itself, and how little after all external influences have to do with that peace +of mind whose origin is within. The Indian, whose wigwam is beside the +cataract, heeds not its thunders, nor feels its sprays as they fall in +everlasting dews upon him; the Arab of the desert sees no bleakness in those +never ending plains, upon whose horizon his eye has rested from childhood to +age. Who knows but he who inhabits this lonely dwelling may have once shone in +the gay world, mixing in its follies, tasting of its fascination; and to think +that now—the low murmurs of the pine tops, the gentle rustle of the +water through the rank grass, and my own thoughts combining, overcame me at +length, and I slept—how long I know not; but when I awoke, certain +changes about showed me that some length of time had elapsed; a gay wood fire +was burning on the hearth; an ample breakfast covered the table; and the +broadsheet of the “Times” newspaper was negligently reposing in the +deep hollow of an arm chair. Before I had well thought how to apologize for the +cool insouciance of my intrusion, the door opened, and a tall, well built man +entered; his shooting jacket and gaiters were evidence of his English origin, +while a bushy moustache and most ample “Henri quatre” nearly +concealed features, that still were not quite unknown to me; he stopped, looked +steadily at me, placed a hand on either shoulder, and calling out, +“Harry—Harry Lorrequer, by all that’s glorious!” rushed +from the room in a transport of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +If my escape from the gallows depended upon my guessing my friend, I should +have submitted to the last penalty of the law; never was I so completely +nonplussed. Confound him what does he mean by running away in that fashion. It +would serve him right were I to decamp by one of the windows before he comes +back; but hark! some one is approaching. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you I cannot be mistaken,” said the man’s voice from +without. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, impossible!” said a lady-like accent that seemed not heard by +me for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +“Judge for yourself; though certainly the last time you saw him may +confuse your memory a little.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil does he mean by that?” said I, as the door opened, +and a very beautiful young woman came forward, who, after a moment’s +hesitation, called out— +</p> + +<p> +“True, indeed, it is Mr. Lorrequer, but he seems to have forgotten +me.” +</p> + +<p> +The eyes, the lips, the tone of the voice, were all familiar. What! can it be +possible? Her companion who had now entered, stood behind her, holding his +sides with ill-suppressed mirth; and at length called out— +</p> + +<p> +“Harry, my boy, you scarcely were more discomposed the last morning we +parted, when the yellow plush—” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove it is,” said I, as I sprang forward, and seizing my fair +friend in my arms, saluted upon both cheeks my quondam flame, Miss Kamworth, +now the wife of my old friend Jack Waller, of whom I have made due mention in +an early chapter of these Confessions. +</p> + +<p> +Were I given a muster roll of my acquaintance to say which of them might +inhabit this deserted mansion, Jack Waller would certainly have been the last I +should have selected—the gay, lively, dashing, high-spirited Jack, fond +of society, dress, equipage, living greatly in the world, known to and liked by +every body, of universal reputation. Did you want a cavalier to see your wife +through a crush at the opera, a friend in a duel, a rider for your kicking +horse in a stiff steeple chase, a bow oar for your boat at a rowing match, Jack +was your man. Such then was my surprise at finding him here, that although +there were many things I longed to inquire about, my first question was— +</p> + +<p> +“And how came you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Life has its vicissitudes,” replied Jack, laughing; “many +stranger things have come to pass than my reformation. But first of all let us +think of breakfast; you shall have ample satisfaction for all your curiosity +afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not now, I fear; I am hurrying on to Munich.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I perceive; but you are aware that—your friends are not +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Callonbys not at Munich!” said I, with a start. +</p> + +<p> +“No; they have been at Saltzburgh, in the Tyrol, for some weeks; but +don’t fret yourself, they are expected to-morrow in time for the court +masquerade; so that until then at least you are my guest.” +</p> + +<p> +Overjoyed at this information, I turned my attention towards madame, whom I +found much improved; the embonpoint of womanhood had still farther increased +the charms of one who had always been handsome; and I could not help +acknowledging that my friend Jack was warrantable in any scheme for securing +such a prize. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch51" id="ch51"></a> CHAPTER LI.<br/> +JACK WALLER’S STORY.</h2> + +<p> +The day passed quickly over with my newly-found friends, whose curiosity to +learn my adventures since we parted, anticipated me in my wish to learn theirs. +After an early dinner, however, with a fresh log upon the hearth, a crusty +flask of red hermitage before us, Jack and I found ourselves alone and at +liberty to speak freely together. +</p> + +<p> +“I scarcely could have expected such would be our meeting, Jack,” +said I, “from the way we last parted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, by Jove, Harry; I believe I behaved but shabbily to you in that +affair; but ‘Love and War,’ you know; and besides we had a distinct +agreement drawn up between us.” +</p> + +<p> +“All true; and after all you are perhaps less to blame than my own +miserable fortune that lies in wait to entrap and disappoint me at every turn +in life. Tell me what do you know of the Callonbys?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing personally; we have met them at dinner, a visit passed +subsequently between us, ‘et voila tout;’ they have been scenery +hunting, picture hunting, and all that sort of thing since their arrival; and +rarely much in Munich; but how do you stand there? to be or not to +be—eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the very question of all others I would fain solve; and yet am +in most complete ignorance of all about it; but the time approaches which must +decide all. I have neither temper nor patience for further contemplation of it; +so here goes; success to the Enterprize.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or,” said Jack, tossing off his glass at the moment, “or, as +they would say in Ireland, ‘your health and inclinations, if they be +virtuous.’” +</p> + +<p> +“And now, Jack, tell me something of your own fortunes since the day you +passed me in the post-chaise and four.” +</p> + +<p> +“The story is soon told. You remember that when I carried off Mary, I had +no intention of leaving England whatever: my object was, after making her my +wife, to open negociations with the old colonel, and after the approved routine +of penitential letters, imploring forgiveness, and setting forth happiness only +wanting his sanction to make it heaven itself, to have thrown ourselves at his +feet ‘selon les regles,’ sobbed, blubbered, blew our noses, and +dressed for dinner, very comfortable inmates of that particularly snug +residence, ‘Hydrabad Cottage.’ Now Mary, who behaved with great +courage for a couple of days, after that got low-spirited and depressed; the +desertion of her father, as she called it, weighed upon her mind, and all my +endeavours to rally and comfort her, were fruitless and unavailing. Each day, +however, I expected to hear something of, or from, the colonel, that would put +an end to this feeling of suspense; but no—three weeks rolled on, and +although I took care that he knew of our address, we never received any +communication. You are aware that when I married, I knew Mary had, or was to +have, a large fortune; and that I myself had not more than enough in the world +to pay the common expenses of our wedding tour. My calculation was +this—the reconciliation will possibly, what with delays of +post—distance—and deliberation, take a month—say five +weeks—now, at forty pounds per week, that makes exactly two hundred +pounds—such being the precise limit of my exchequer, when blessed with a +wife, a man, and a maid, three imperials, a cap-case, and a poodle, I arrived +at the Royal Hotel, in Edinburgh. Had I been Lord Francis Egerton, with his +hundred thousand a year, looking for a new ‘distraction,’ at any +price; or still more—were I a London shopkeeper, spending a Sunday in +Boulogne sur Mer, and trying to find out something expensive, as he had only +one day to stay, I could not have more industriously sought out opportunities +for extravagance, and each day contrived to find out some two or three +acquaintances to bring home to dinner. And as I affected to have been married +for a long time, Mary felt less genee among strangers, and we got on famously; +still the silence of the colonel weighed upon her mind, and although she +partook of none of my anxieties from that source, being perfectly ignorant of +the state of my finances, she dwelt so constantly upon this subject, that I at +length yielded to her repeated solicitations, and permitted her to write to her +father. Her letter was a most proper one; combining a dutiful regret for +leaving her home, with the hope that her choice had been such as to excuse her +rashness, or, at least, palliate her fault. It went to say, that her +father’s acknowledgment of her, was all she needed or cared for, to +complete her happiness, and asking for his permission to seek it in person. +This was the substance of the letter, which upon the whole, satisfied me, and I +waited anxiously for the reply. At the end of five days the answer arrived. It +was thus:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“‘Dear Mary,<br/> + “‘You have chosen your own path in life, and having done so, I +have neither the right nor inclination to interfere with your decision; I shall +neither receive you, nor the person you have made your husband; and to prevent +any further disappointment, inform you that, as I leave this to-morrow, any +future letters you might think proper to address, will not reach me. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“‘Yours very faithful,<br/> +C. Kamworth, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Hydrabad Cottage.’ +</p> + +<p> +“This was a tremendous coup, and not in the least anticipated by either +of us; upon me the effect was stunning, knowing, as I did, that our +fast-diminishing finances were nearly expended. Mary on the other hand, who +neither knew nor thought of the exchequer, rallied at once from her depression, +and after a hearty fit of crying, dried her eyes, and putting her arm round my +neck, said: +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well, Jack, I must only love you the more, since papa will not +share any of my affection.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I wish he would his purse though,’ muttered I, as I pressed +her in my arms, and strove to seem perfectly happy. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not prolong my story by dwelling upon the agitation this letter +cost me; however, I had yet a hundred pounds left, and an aunt in +Harley-street, with whom I had always been a favourite. This thought, the only +rallying one I possessed, saved me for the time; and as fretting was never my +forte, I never let Mary perceive that any thing had gone wrong, and managed so +well in this respect, that my good spirits raised her’s, and we set out +for London one fine sunshiny morning, as happy a looking couple as ever +travelled the north road. +</p> + +<p> +“When we arrived at the ‘Clarendon,’ my first care was to get +into a cab, and drive to Harley-street. I rung the bell; and not waiting to ask +if my aunt was at home, I dashed up stairs to the drawing-room; in I bolted, +and instead of the precise old Lady Lilford, sitting at her embroidery, with +her fat poodle beside her, beheld a strapping looking fellow, with a black +moustache, making fierce love to a young lady on a sofa beside him. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Why, how is this—I really—there must be some mistake +here.’ In my heart I knew that such doings in my good aunt’s +dwelling were impossible. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I should suspect there is, sir,’ drawled out he of the +moustache, as he took a very cool survey of me, through his glass. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Is Lady Lilford at home, may I ask,’ said I, in a very +apologetic tone of voice. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I haven’t the honor of her ladyship’s +acquaintance,’ replied he in a lisp, evidently enjoying my perplexity, +which was every moment becoming more evident. +</p> + +<p> +“‘But this is her house,’ said I, ‘at +least—’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Lady Lilford is at Paris, sir,’ said the young lady, who +now spoke for the first time. ‘Papa has taken the house for the season, +and that may perhaps account for your mistake.’ +</p> + +<p> +“What I muttered by way of apology for my intrusion, I know not; but I +stammered—the young lady blushed—the beau chuckled, and turned to +the window, and when I found myself in the street, I scarcely knew whether to +laugh at my blunder, or curse my disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +“The next morning I called upon my aunt’s lawyer, and having +obtained her address in Paris, sauntered to the ‘Junior Club,’ to +write her a letter before post hour. As I scanned over the morning papers, I +could not help smiling at the flaming paragraph which announced my marriage, to +the only daughter and heiress of the Millionaire, Colonel Kamworth. Not well +knowing how to open the correspondence with my worthy relative, I folded the +paper containing the news, and addressed it to ‘Lady Lilford, Hotel de +Bristol, Paris.’ +</p> + +<p> +“When I arrived at the ‘Clarendon,’ I found my wife and her +maid surrounded by cases and band-boxes; laces, satins and velvets were +displayed on all sides, while an emissary from ‘Storr and Mortimer’ +was arranging a grand review of jewellery on a side table, one half of which +would have ruined the Rajah of Mysore, to purchase. My advice was immediately +called into requisition; and pressed into service, I had nothing left for it, +but to canvass, criticise, and praise, between times, which I did, with a good +grace, considering that I anticipated the ‘Fleet,’ for every +flounce of Valenciennes lace; and could not help associating a rich diamond +aigrette, with hard labour for life, and the climate of New South Wales. The +utter abstraction I was in, led to some awkward contre temps; and as my +wife’s enthusiasm for her purchases increased, so did my reverie gain +ground. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Is it not beautiful, Jack?—how delicately worked—it +must have taken a long time to do it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Seven years,’ I muttered, as my thoughts ran upon a very +different topic. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, no—not so much,’ said she laughing; ‘and it +must be such a hard thing to do.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Not half so hard as carding wool, or pounding oyster +shells.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘How absurd you are. Well, I’ll take this, it will look so +well in—’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Botany Bay,’ said I, with a sigh that set all the party +laughing, which at last roused me, and enabled me to join in the joke. +</p> + +<p> +“As, at length, one half of the room became filled with millinery, and +the other glittered with jewels and bijouterie, my wife grew weary with her +exertions, and we found ourselves alone. +</p> + +<p> +“When I told her that my aunt had taken up her residence in Paris, it +immediately occurred to her, how pleasant it would be to go there too; and, +although I concurred in the opinion for very different reasons, it was at +length decided we should do so; and the only difficulty now existed as to the +means, for although the daily papers teem with ‘four ways to go from +London to Paris;’ they all resolved themselves into one, and that one, +unfortunately to me, the most difficult and impracticable—by money. +</p> + +<p> +“There was, however, one last resource open—the sale of my +commission. I will not dwell upon what it cost me to resolve upon +this—the determination was a painful one, but it was soon come to, and +before five-o’clock that day, Cox and Greenwood had got their +instructions to sell out for me, and had advanced a thousand pounds of the +purchase. Our bill settled—the waiters bowing to the ground (it is your +ruined man that is always most liberal)—the post-horses harnessed, and +impatient for the road, I took my place beside my wife, while my valet held a +parasol over the soubrette in the rumble, all in the approved fashion of those +who have an unlimited credit with Coutts and Drummond; the whips cracked, the +leaders capered, and with a patronizing bow to the proprietor of the +‘Clarendon,’ away we rattled to Dover. +</p> + +<p> +“After the usual routine of sea sickness, fatigue, and poisonous cookery, +we reached Paris on the fifth day, and put up at the ‘Hotel de +Londres,’ Place Vendome. +</p> + +<p> +“To have an adequate idea of the state of my feelings as I trod the +splendid apartments of this princely Hotel, surrounded by every luxury that +wealth can procure, or taste suggest, you must imagine the condition of a man, +who is regaled with a sumptuous banquet on the eve of his execution. The +inevitable termination to all my present splendour, was never for a moment +absent from my thoughts, and the secrecy with which I was obliged to conceal my +feelings, formed one of the greatest sources of my misery. The coup, when it +does come, will be sad enough, and poor Mary may as well have the comfort of +the deception, as long as it lasts, without suffering as I do. Such was the +reasoning by which I met every resolve to break to her the real state of our +finances, and such the frame of mind in which I spent my days at Paris, the +only really unhappy ones I can ever charge my memory with. +</p> + +<p> +“We had scarcely got settled in the hotel, when my aunt, who inhabited +the opposite side of the ‘Place,’ came over to see us and wish us +joy. She had seen the paragraph in the Post, and like all other people with +plenty of money, fully approved a match like mine. +</p> + +<p> +“She was delighted with Mary, and despite the natural reserve of the old +maiden lady, became actually cordial, and invited us to dine with her that day, +and every succeeding one we might feel disposed to do so. So far so well, +thought I, as I offered her my arm to see her home; but if she knew of what +value even this small attention is to us, am I quite so sure she would offer +it?—however, no time is to be lost; I cannot live in this state of hourly +agitation; I must make some one the confidant of my sorrows, and none so fit as +she who can relieve as well as advise upon them. Although such was my +determination, yet somehow I could not pluck up courage for the effort. My +aunt’s congratulations upon my good luck, made me shrink from the avowal; +and while she ran on upon the beauty and grace of my wife, topics I fully +concurred in, I also chimed in with her satisfaction at the prudential and +proper motives which led to the match. Twenty times I was on the eve of +interrupting her, and saying, ‘But, madam, I am a beggar—my wife +has not a shilling—I have absolutely nothing—her father disowns +us—my commission is sold, and in three weeks, the ‘Hotel de +Londres’ and the ‘Palais Royale,’ will be some hundred pounds +the richer, and I without the fare of a cab, to drive me to the Seine to drown +myself.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Such were my thoughts; but whenever I endeavoured to speak them, some +confounded fulness in my throat nearly choked me; my temples throbbed, my hands +trembled, and whether it was shame, or the sickness of despair, I cannot say; +but the words would not come, and all that I could get out was some flattery of +my wife’s beauty, or some vapid eulogy upon my own cleverness in securing +such a prize. To give you in one brief sentence an idea of my state, +Harry—know, then, that though loving Mary with all my heart and soul, as +I felt she deserved to be loved, fifty times a day I would have given my life +itself that you had been the successful man, on the morning I carried her off, +and that Jack Waller was once more a bachelor, to see the only woman he ever +loved, the wife of another. +</p> + +<p> +“But, this is growing tedious, Harry, I must get over the ground faster; +two months passed over at Paris, during which we continued to live at the +‘Londres,’ giving dinners, soirees, dejeuners, with the prettiest +equipage in the ‘Champs Elysees,’ we were quite the mode; my wife, +which is rare enough for an Englishwoman, knew how to dress herself. Our +evening parties were the most recherche things going, and if I were capable of +partaking of any pleasure in the eclat, I had my share, having won all the +pigeon matches in the Bois de Boulegard, and beat Lord Henry Seymour himself in +a steeple chase. The continual round of occupation in which pleasure involves a +man, is certainly its greatest attraction—reflection is +impossible—the present is too full to admit any of the past, and very +little of the future; and even I, with all my terrors awaiting me, began to +feel a half indifference to the result in the manifold cares of my then +existence. To this state of fatalism, for such it was becoming, had I arrived, +when the vision was dispelled in a moment, by a visit from my aunt, who came to +say, that some business requiring her immediate presence in London, she was to +set out that evening, but hoped to find us in Paris on her return. I was +thunderstruck at the news, for, although as yet I had obtained no manner of +assistance from the old lady, yet, I felt that her very presence was a kind of +security to us, and that in every sudden emergency, she was there to apply to. +My money was nearly expended, the second and last instalment of my commission +was all that remained, and much of even that I owed to trades-people. I now +resolved to speak out—the worst must be known, thought I, in a few +days—and now or never be it. So saying, I drew my aunt’s arm within +my own, and telling her that I wished a few minutes conversation alone, led her +to one of the less frequented walks in the Tuilleries gardens. When we had got +sufficiently far to be removed from all listeners, I began then—‘my +dearest aunt, what I have suffered in concealing from you so long, the subject +of my present confession, will plead as my excuse in not making you sooner my +confidante.’ When I had got thus far, the agitation of my aunt was such, +that I could not venture to say more for a minute or two. At length, she said, +in a kind of hurried whisper, ‘go on;’ and although then I would +have given all I possessed in the world to have continued, I could not speak a +word. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Dear John, what is it, any thing about Mary—for heavens +sake speak.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes,’ dearest aunt, ‘it is about Mary, and entirely +about Mary.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ah, dear me, I feared it long since; but then, John, consider she +is very handsome—very much admired—and—’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘That makes it all the heavier, my dear aunt—the prouder her +present position, the more severely will she feel the reverse.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, but surely, John, your fears must exaggerate the +danger.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Nothing of the kind—I have not words to tell +you—’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh dear, oh dear, don’t say so,’ said the old lady +blushing, ‘for though I have often remarked a kind of gay flirting manner +she has with men—I am sure she means nothing by it—she is so +young—and so—’ +</p> + +<p> +“I stopped, stepped forward, and looking straight in my aunt’s +face, broke out into a fit of laughter, that she, mistaking for hysterical from +its violence, nearly fainted upon the spot. +</p> + +<p> +“As soon as I could sufficiently recover gravity to explain to my aunt +her mistake, I endeavoured to do so, but so ludicrous was the contre temps, and +so ashamed the old lady for her gratuitous suspicions, that she would not +listen to a word, and begged me to return to her hotel. Such an unexpected turn +to my communication routed all my plans, and after a very awkward silence of +some minutes on both sides, I mumbled something about our expensive habits of +life, costly equipage, number of horses, &c., and hinted at the propriety +of retrenchment. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Mary rides beautifully,’ said my aunt, drily.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes, but my dear aunt, it was not exactly of that I was going to +speak, for in fact—’ +</p> + +<p> +“Oh John,’ said she, interrupting—‘I know your delicacy +too well to suspect; but, in fact, I have myself perceived what you allude to, +and wished very much to have some conversation with you on the subject.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Thank God,’ said I to myself, ‘at length, we +understand each other—and the ice is broken at last.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Indeed, I think I have anticipated your wish in the matter; but +as time presses, and I must look after all my packing, I shall say good by for +a few weeks, and in the evening, Jepson, who stays here, will bring you, +“what I mean,” over to your hotel; once more, then, good by.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Good by, my dearest, kindest friend,’ said I, taking a most +tender adieu of the old lady. ‘What an excellent creature she is,’ +said I, half aloud, as I turned towards home—‘how considerate, how +truly kind—to spare me too all the pain of explanation.’ Now I +begin to breathe once more. ‘If there be a flask of Johannisberg in the +“Londres,” I’ll drink your health this day, and so shall +Mary;’ so saying, I entered the hotel with a lighter heart, and a firmer +step than ever it had been my fortune to do hitherto. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We shall miss the old lady, I’m sure, Mary, she is so +kind.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh! indeed she is; but then, John, she is such a prude.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Now I could not help recurring in my mind to some of the conversation in +the Tuilleries garden, and did not feel exactly at ease. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Such a prude, and so very old-fashioned in her notions.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes, Mary,’ said I, with more gravity than she was prepared +for, ‘she is a prude; but I am not certain that in foreign society, where +less liberties are tolerated than in our country, if such a bearing be not +wiser.’ What I was going to plunge into, heaven knows, for the waiter +entered at the moment, and presenting me with a large and carefully sealed +package, said, ‘de la part de mi ladi Lilfore,’—‘but +stay, here comes, if I am not mistaken, a better eulogy upon my dear aunt, than +any I can pronounce.’ +</p> + +<p> +“How heavy it is, said I to myself, balancing the parcel in my hand. +‘There is no answer,’ said I, aloud to the waiter, who stood as if +expecting one. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The servant wishes to have some acknowledgment in writing, sir, +that it has been delivered into your own hands.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Jepson entered,—‘well, George, your parcel is all right, and +here is a Napoleon to drink my health.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Scarcely had the servants left the room, when Mary, whose curiosity was +fully roused, rushed over, and tried to get the packet from me; after a short +struggle, I yielded, and she flew to the end of the room, and tearing open the +seals, several papers fell to the ground; before I could have time to snatch +them up, she had read some lines written on the envelope, and turning towards +me, threw her arms around my neck, and said, ‘yes Jack, she is, indeed, +all you have said; look here,’ I turned and read—with what feeling +I leave to you to guess—the following:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“‘D<small>EAR</small> N<small>EPHEW AND</small> +N<small>IECE</small>, +</p> + +<p> +“‘The enclosed will convey to you, with my warmest wishes for +your happiness, a ticket on the Francfort Lottery, of which I inclose the +scheme. I also take the opportunity of saying that I have purchased the +Hungarian pony for Mary—which we spoke of this morning. It is at +Johnston’s stable, and will be delivered on sending for it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Think of that, Jack, the Borghese poney, with the silky tail; +mine—Oh! what a dear good old soul; it was the very thing of all others I +longed for, for they told me the princess had refused every offer for +it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“While Mary ran on in this strain, I sat mute and stupified; the sudden +reverse my hopes had sustained, deprived me, for a moment, of all thought, and +it was several minutes before I could rightly take in the full extent of my +misfortunes. +</p> + +<p> +“How that crazy old maid, for such, alas, I called her to myself now, +could have so blundered all my meaning—how she could so palpably have +mistaken, I could not conceive; what a remedy for a man overwhelmed with +debt—a ticket in a German lottery, and a cream-coloured pony, as if my +whole life had not been one continued lottery, with every day a blank; and as +to horses, I had eleven in my stables already. Perhaps she thought twelve would +read better in my schedule, when I, next week, surrendered as insolvent. +</p> + +<p> +“Unable to bear the delight, the childish delight of Mary, on her new +acquisition, I rushed out of the house, and wandered for several hours in the +Boulevards. At last I summoned up courage to tell my wife. I once more turned +towards home, and entered her dressing-room, where she was having her hair +dressed for a ball at the Embassy. My resolution failed me—not now +thought I—to-morrow will do as well—one night more of happiness for +her and then—I looked on with pleasure and pride, as ornament after +ornament, brilliant with diamonds and emeralds, shone in her hair, and upon her +arms, still heightened her beauty, and lit up with a dazzling brilliancy her +lovely figure.—But it must come—and whenever the hour +arrives—the reverse will be fully as bitter; besides I am able +now—and when I may again be so, who can tell—now then be it, said +I, as I told the waiting-maid to retire; and taking a chair beside my wife, put +my arm round her. +</p> + +<p> +“‘There, John dearest, take care; don’t you see you’ll +crush all that great affair of Malines lace, that Rosette has been breaking her +heart to manage this half hour.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Et puis,’ said I. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Et puis. I could not go to the ball, naughty boy. I am bent on +great conquest to-night; so pray don’t mar such good intentions.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘And you should be greatly disappointed were you not to go?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Of course I should; but what do you mean; is there any reason why +I should not? You are silent, John—speak—oh speak—has any +thing occurred to my—’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘No, no, dearest—nothing that I know has occurred to the +Colonel.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well then, who is it? Oh tell me at once.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, my dear, there is no one in the case but ourselves;’ so +saying, despite the injunction about the lace, I drew her towards me, and in as +few words, but as clearly as I was able, explained all our +circumstances—my endeavour to better them—my hopes—my +fears—and now my bitter disappointment, if not despair. +</p> + +<p> +“The first shock over, Mary showed not only more courage, but more sound +sense than I could have believed. All the frivolity of her former character +vanished at the first touch of adversity; just as of old, Harry, we left the +tinsel of our gay jackets behind, when active service called upon us for +something more sterling. She advised, counselled, and encouraged me by turns; +and in half an hour the most poignant regret I had was in not having sooner +made her my confidante, and checked the progress of our enormous expenditure +somewhat earlier. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not now detain you much longer. In three weeks we sold our +carriages and horses, our pictures, (we had begun this among our other +extravagances,) and our china followed; and under the plea of health set out +for Baden; not one among our Paris acquaintances ever suspecting the real +reason of our departure, and never attributing any monied difficulties to +us—for we paid our debts. +</p> + +<p> +“The same day we left Paris, I despatched a letter to my aunt, explaining +fully all about us, and suggesting that as I had now left the army for ever, +perhaps she would interest some of her friends—and she has powerful +ones—to do something for me. +</p> + +<p> +“After some little loitering on the Rhine, we fixed upon Hesse Cassel for +our residence. It was very quiet—very cheap. The country around +picturesque, and last but not least, there was not an Englishman in the +neighbourhood. The second week after our arrival brought us letters from my +aunt. She had settled four hundred a year upon us for the present, and sent the +first year in advance; promised us a visit as soon as we were ready to receive +her; and pledged herself not to forget when an opportunity of serving me should +offer. +</p> + +<p> +“From that moment to this,” said Jack, “all has gone well +with us. We have, it is true, not many luxuries, but we have no wants, and +better still, no debts. The dear old aunt is always making us some little +present or other; and somehow I have a kind of feeling that better luck is +still in store; but faith, Harry, as long as I have a happy home, and a warm +fireside, for a friend when he drops in upon me, I scarcely can say that better +luck need be wished for.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is only one point, Jack, you have not enlightened me upon, how +came you here? You are some hundred miles from Hesse, in your present +chateau.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! by Jove, that was a great omission in my narrative; but come, this +will explain it; see here”—so saying, he drew from a little drawer +a large lithographic print of a magnificent castellated building, with towers +and bastions, keep, moat, and even draw-bridge, and the walls bristled with +cannon, and an eagled banner floated proudly above them. +</p> + +<p> +“What in the name of the Sphynxes is this?” +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said Jack, “is the Schloss von Eberhausen; or, if +you like it in English, Eberhausen Castle, as it was the year of the deluge; +for the present mansion that we are now sipping our wine in bears no very close +resemblance to it. But to make the mystery clear, this was the great prize in +the Francfort lottery, the ticket of which my aunt’s first note +contained, and which we were fortunate enough to win. We have only been here a +few weeks, and though the affair looks somewhat meagre, we have hopes that in a +little time, and with some pains, much may be done to make it habitable. There +is a capital chasses of some hundred acres; plenty of wood and innumerable +rights, seignorial, memorial, &c., which, fortunately for my neighbours, I +neither understand nor care for; and we are therefore the best friends in the +world. Among others I am styled the graf or count——.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, Monsieur Le Comte, do you intend favouring me with your +company at coffee this evening; for already it is ten o’clock; and +considering my former claim upon Mr. Lorrequer, you have let me enjoy very +little of his society.” +</p> + +<p> +We now adjourned to the drawing-room, where we gossipped away till past +midnight; and I retired to my room, meditating over Jack’s adventures, +and praying in my heart, that despite all his mischances, my own might end as +happily. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch52" id="ch52"></a> CHAPTER LII.<br/> +MUNICH.</h2> + +<p> +The rest and quietness of the preceding day had so far recovered me from the +effects of my accident, that I resolved, as soon as breakfast was over, to take +leave of my kind friends, and set out for Munich. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall meet to-night, Harry,” said Waller, as we +parted—“we shall meet at the Casino—and don’t forget +that the Croix Blanche is your hotel; and Schnetz, the tailor, in the Grande +Place, will provide you with every thing you need in the way of dress.” +</p> + +<p> +This latter piece of information was satisfactory, inasmuch as the greater part +of my luggage, containing my uniform, &c., had been left in the French +diligence; and as the ball was patronised by the court, I was greatly puzzled +how to make my appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Bad roads and worse horses made me feel the few leagues I had to go the most +tiresome part of my journey. But, of course, in this feeling impatience had its +share. A few hours more, and my fate should be decided; and yet I thought the +time would never come. If the Callonbys should not arrive—if, again, my +evil star be in the ascendant, and any new impediment to our meeting +arise—but I cannot, will not, think this—Fortune must surely be +tired of persecuting me by this time, and, even to sustain her old character +for fickleness, must befriend me now. Ah! here we are in Munich—and this +is the Croix Blanche—what a dingy old mansion! Beneath a massive porch, +supported by heavy stone pillars, stood the stout figure of Andreas Behr, the +host. A white napkin, fastened in one button-hole, and hanging gracefully down +beside him—a soup-ladle held sceptre-wise in his right hand, and the +grinding motion of his nether jaw, all showed that he had risen from his table +d’hote to welcome the new arrival; and certainly, if noise and uproar +might explain the phenomenon, the clatter of my equipage over the pavement +might have risen the dead. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus22"></a> +<a href="images/fig22.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig22.jpg" width="429" height="600" alt="Illustration: The Inn +at Munich" /></a> +<p class="caption">The Inn at Munich</p> +</div> + +<p> +While my postillion was endeavouring, by mighty efforts, with a heavy stone, to +turn the handle of the door, and thus liberate me from my cage, I perceived +that the host came forward and said something to him—on replying, to +which, he ceased his endeavours to open the door, and looked vacantly about +him. Upon this I threw down the sash, and called out— +</p> + +<p> +“I say, is not this the Croix Blanche?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ya,” said the man-mountain with the napkin. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, open the door, pray—I’m going to stop +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nein.” +</p> + +<p> +“No! What do you mean by that? Has not Lord Callonby engaged rooms +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ya.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I am a particular friend of his, and will stay here +also.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nein.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil are you at, with your ya and nein?” said I. +“Has your confounded tongue nothing better than a monosyllable to reply +with.” +</p> + +<p> +Whether disliking the tone the controversy was assuming, or remembering that +his dinner waited, I know not, but at these words my fat friend turned +leisurely round, and waddled back into the house; where, in a moment after, I +had the pleasure of beholding him at the head of a long table, distributing +viands with a very different degree of activity from what he displayed in +dialogue. +</p> + +<p> +With one vigorous jerk, I dashed open the door, upsetting, at the same time, +the poor postillion, who had recommenced his operations on the lock, and, +foaming with passion, strode into the “salle a manger.” Nothing is +such an immediate damper to any sudden explosion of temper, as the placid and +unconcerned faces of a number of people, who, ignorant of yourself and your +peculiar miseries at the moment, seem only to regard you as a madman. This I +felt strongly, as, flushed in face and tingling in my fingers, I entered the +room. +</p> + +<p> +“Take my luggage,” said I to a gaping waiter, “and place a +chair there, do you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +There seemed, I suppose, something in my looks that did not admit of much +parley, for the man made room for me at once at the table, and left the room, +as if to discharge the other part of my injunction, without saying a word. As I +arranged my napkin before me, I was collecting my energies and my German, as +well as I was able, for the attack of the host, which, I anticipated from his +recent conduct, must now ensue; but, greatly to my surprise, he sent me my soup +without a word, and the dinner went on without any interruption. When the +desert had made its appearance, I beckoned the waiter towards me, and asked +what the landlord meant by his singular reception of me. The man shrugged his +shoulders, and raised his eyebrows, without speaking, as if to imply, +“it’s his way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, no matter,” said I. “Have you sent my luggage up +stairs?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, there is no room—the house is full.” +</p> + +<p> +“The house full! Confound it—this is too provoking. I have most +urgent reasons for wishing to stay here. Cannot you make some +arrangement—see about it, waiter.” I here slipped a Napoleon into +the fellow’s hand, and hinted that as much more awaited the finale of the +negociation. +</p> + +<p> +In about a minute after, I perceived him behind the host’s chair, +pleading my cause with considerable energy; but to my complete chagrin, I heard +the other answer all his eloquence by a loud “Nein,” that he +grunted out in such a manner as closed the conference. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot succeed, sir,” said the man, as he passed behind me, +“but don’t leave the house till I speak with you again.” +</p> + +<p> +What confounded mystery is there in all this, thought I. Is there any thing so +suspicious in my look or appearance, that the old bear in the fur cap will not +even admit me. What can it all mean. One thing I’m resolved +upon—nothing less than force shall remove me. +</p> + +<p> +So saying I lit my cigar, and in order to give the waiter an opportunity of +conferring with me unobserved by his master, walked out into the porch and sat +down. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes he joined me, and after a stealthy look on each side, +said— +</p> + +<p> +“The Herr Andreas is a hard man to deal with, and when he says a thing, +never goes back of it. Now he has been expecting the new English Charge +d’Affaires here these last ten days, and has kept the hotel half empty in +consequence; and as mi Lor Callonby has engaged the other half, why we have +nothing to do; so that when he asked the postillion if you were mi Lor, and +found that you were not, he determined not to admit you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why not have the civility to explain that?” +</p> + +<p> +“He seldom speaks, and when he does only a word or two at a time. He is +quite tired with what he has gone through to-day, and will retire very early to +bed; and for this reason I have requested you to remain, for as he never +ventures up stairs, I will then manage to give you one of the +ambassador’s rooms, which, even if he come, he’ll never miss. So +that if you keep quiet, and do not attract any particular attention towards +you, all will go well.” +</p> + +<p> +This advice seemed so reasonable, that I determined to follow it—any +inconvenience being preferable, provided I could be under the same roof with my +beloved Jane; and from the waiter’s account, there seemed no doubt +whatever of their arrival that evening. In order, therefore, to follow his +injunctions to the letter, I strolled out toward the Place in search of the +tailor, and also to deliver a letter from Waller to the chamberlain, to provide +me with a card for the ball. Monsieur Schnetz, who was the very pinnacle of +politeness, was nevertheless, in fact, nearly as untractable as my host of the +“Cross.” All his “sujets” were engaged in preparing a +suit for the English Charge d’Affaires, whose trunks had been sent in a +wrong direction, and who had despatched a courier from Frankfort, to order a +uniform. This second thwarting, and from the same source, so nettled me, that I +greatly fear, all my respect for the foreign office and those who live thereby, +would not have saved them from something most unlike a blessing, had not +Monsieur Schnetz saved diplomacy from such desecration by saying, that if I +could content myself with a plain suit, such as civilians wore, he would do his +endeavour to accommodate me. +</p> + +<p> +“Any thing, Monsieur Schnetz—dress me like the Pope’s Nuncio, +or the Mayor of London, if you like, but only enable me to go.” +</p> + +<p> +Although my reply did not seem to convey a very exalted idea of my taste in +costume to the worthy artiste, it at least evinced my anxiety for the ball; and +running his measure over me, he assured me that the dress he would provide was +both well looking and becoming; adding, “At nine o’clock, sir, +you’ll have it—exactly the same size as his Excellency the Charge +d’Affaires.” +</p> + +<p> +“Confound the Charge d’Affaires!” I added, and left the +house. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch53" id="ch53"></a> CHAPTER LIII.<br/> +INN AT MUNICH.</h2> + +<p> +As I had never been in Munich before, I strolled about the town till dusk. At +that time the taste of the present king had not enriched the capital with the +innumerable objects of art which render it now second to none in Europe. There +were, indeed, then but few attractions—narrow streets, tall, +unarchitectural-looking houses, and gloomy, unimpressive churches. Tired of +this, I turned towards my inn, wondering in my mind if Antoine had succeeded in +procuring me the room, or whether yet I should be obliged to seek my lodging +elsewhere. Scarcely had I entered the porch, when I found him waiting my +arrival, candle in hand. He conducted me at once up the wide oaken stair, then +along the gallery, into a large wainscotted room, with a most capacious bed. A +cheerful wood fire burned and crackled away in the grate—the cloth was +already spread for supper—(remember it was in Germany)—the +newspapers of the day were placed before me—and, in a word, every +attention showed that I had found the true avenue to Antoine’s good +graces, who now stood bowing before me, in apparent ecstasy at his own +cleverness. +</p> + +<p> +“All very well done, Antoine, and now for supper—order it yourself +for me—I never can find my way in a German ‘carte de diner;’ +and be sure to have a fiacre here at nine—nine precisely.” +</p> + +<p> +Antoine withdrew, leaving me to my own reflections, which now, if not gloomy, +were still of the most anxious kind. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely was the supper placed upon the table, when a tremendous tramping of +horses along the street, and loud cracking of whips, announced a new arrival. +</p> + +<p> +“Here they are,” said I, as, springing up, I upset the soup, and +nearly threw the roti into Antoine’s face, as he was putting it before +me. +</p> + +<p> +Down stairs I rushed, through the hall, pushing aside waiters and overturning +chambermaids in my course. The carriage was already at the door. Now for a +surprise, thought I, as I worked through the crowd in the porch, and reached +the door just as the steps were clattered down, and a gentleman began to +descend, whom twenty expectant voices, now informed of his identity, welcomed +as the new Charge d’Affaires. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus23"></a> +<a href="images/fig23.jpg"> +<img src="images/fig23.jpg" width="453" height="600" alt="Illustration: Arrival +of Charge d’Affairs" /></a> +<p class="caption">Arrival of Charge d’Affairs</p> +</div> + +<p> +“May all the—” +</p> + +<p> +What I wished for his excellency it would not be polite to repeat, nor most +discreet even to remember; but, certes, I mounted the stairs with as little +good will towards the envoy extraordinary as was consistent with due loyalty. +</p> + +<p> +When once more in my room, I congratulated myself that now at least no more +“false starts” could occur—“the eternal Charge +d’Affaires, of whom I have been hearing since my arrival, cannot come +twice—he is here now, and I hope I’m done with him.” +</p> + +<p> +The supper—some greasiness apart—was good—the wine excellent. +My spirits were gradually rising, and I paced my room in that mingled state of +hope and fear, that amid all its anxieties, has such moments of ecstasy. A new +noise without—some rabble in the street; hark, it comes nearer—I +hear the sound of wheels; yes, there go the horses—nearer and nearer. Ah, +it is dying away again—stay—yes, yes—here it is—here +they are. The noise and tumult without now increased every instant—the +heavy trot of six or eight horses shook the very street, and I heard the round, +dull, rumbling sound of a heavy carriage, as it drew up at last at the door of +the inn. Why it was I know not, but this time I could not stir—my heart +beat almost loud enough for me to hear—my temples throbbed, and then a +cold and clammy perspiration came over me, and I sank into a chair. Fearing +that I was about to faint, sick as I was, I felt angry with myself, and tried +to rally, but could not, and only at length was roused by hearing that the +steps were let down, and shortly after the tread of feet coming along the +gallery towards my room. +</p> + +<p> +They are coming—she is coming, thought I. Now then for my doom! +</p> + +<p> +There was some noise of voices outside. I listened, for I still felt unable to +rise. The talking grew louder—doors were opened and shut—then came +a lull—then more slamming of doors, and more talking—then all was +still again—and at last I heard the steps of people as if retiring, and +in a few minutes after the carriage door was jammed to, and again the heavy +tramp of the horses rattled over the pave. At this instant Antoine entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Antoine,” said I, in a voice trembling with weakness and +agitation, “not them yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was his Grace the Grand Mareschal,” said Antoine, scarcely +heeding my question, in the importance of the illustrious visitor who had +arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, the Grand Mareschal,” said I, carelessly; “does he live +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sappermint nein, Mein Herr; but he has just been to pay his respects to +his Excellency the new Charge d’Affaires.” +</p> + +<p> +In the name of all patience, I ask, who could endure this? From the hour of my +arrival I am haunted by this one image—the Charge d’Affaires. For +him I have been almost condemned to go houseless, and naked; and now the very +most sacred feelings of my heart are subject to his influence. I walked up and +down in an agony. Another such disappointment, and my brain will turn, thought +I, and they may write my epitaph—“Died of love and a Charge +d’Affaires.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is time to dress,” said the waiter. +</p> + +<p> +“I could strangle him with my own hands,” muttered I, worked up +into a real heat by the excitement of my passion. +</p> + +<p> +“The Charge—” +</p> + +<p> +“Say that name again, villain, and I’ll blow your brains +out,” cried I, seizing Antoine by the throat, and pinning him against the +wall; “only dare to mutter it, and you’ll ever breathe another +syllable.” +</p> + +<p> +The poor fellow grew green with terror, and fell upon his knees before me. +</p> + +<p> +“Get my dressing things ready,” said I, in a more subdued tone. +“I did not mean to terrify you—but beware of what I told +you.” +</p> + +<p> +While Antoine occupied himself with the preparations for my toilette, I sat +broodingly over the wood embers, thinking of my fate. +</p> + +<p> +A knock came to the door. It was the tailor’s servant with my clothes. He +laid down the parcel and retired, while Antoine proceeded to open it, and +exhibit before me a blue uniform with embroidered collar and cuffs—the +whole, without being gaudy, being sufficiently handsome, and quite as showy as +I could wish. +</p> + +<p> +The poor waiter expressed his unqualified approval of the costume, and talked +away about the approaching ball as something pre-eminently magnificent. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better look after the fiacre, Antoine,” said I; “it +is past nine.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked towards the door, opened it, and then, turning round, said, in a kind +of low, confidential whisper, pointing, with the thumb of his left hand, +towards the wall of the room as he spoke— +</p> + +<p> +“He won’t go—very strange that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who do you mean?” said I, quite unconscious of the allusion. +</p> + +<p> +“The Charge d’Aff—” +</p> + +<p> +I made one spring at him, but he slammed the door to, and before I could reach +the lobby, I heard him rolling from top to bottom of the oak staircase, making +noise enough in his fall to account for the fracture of every bone in his body. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch54" id="ch54"></a> CHAPTER LIV.<br/> +THE BALL.</h2> + +<p> +As I was informed that the King would himself be present at the ball, I knew +that German etiquette required that the company should arrive before his +Majesty; and although now every minute I expected the arrival of the Callonbys, +I dared not defer my departure any longer. +</p> + +<p> +“They are certain to be at the ball,” said Waller, and that +sentence never left my mind. +</p> + +<p> +So saying, I jumped into the fiacre, and in a few minutes found myself in the +long line of carriages that led to the “Hof saal.” Any one who has +been in Munich will testify for me, that the ball room is one of the most +beautiful in Europe, and to me who for some time had not been living much in +the world, its splendour was positively dazzling. The glare of the +chandeliers—the clang of the music—the magnificence of the +dresses—the beauty of the Bavarian women too, all surprized and amazed +me. There were several hundred people present, but the king not having yet +arrived, dancing had not commenced. Feeling as I then did, it was rather a +relief to me than otherwise, that I knew no one. There was quite amusement +enough in walking through the saloons, observing the strange costumes, and +remarking the various groups as they congregated around the trays of ices and +the champagne glacee. The buzz of talking and the sounds of laughter and +merriment prevailed over even the orchestra; and, as the gay crowds paraded the +rooms, all seemed pleasure and excitement. Suddenly a tremendous noise was +heard without—then came a loud roll of the drums, which lasted for +several seconds, and the clank of musketry—then a cheer;—it is the +king. +</p> + +<p> +The king! resounded on all sides; and in another moment the large folding-doors +at the end of the saal were thrown open, and the music struck up the national +anthem of Bavaria. +</p> + +<p> +His majesty entered, accompanied by the queen, his brother, two or three +archduchesses, and a long suite of officers. +</p> + +<p> +I could not help remarking upon the singular good taste with which the +assembly—all anxious and eager to catch a glimpse of his +majesty—behaved on this occasion. There was no pressing forward to the +“estrade” where he stood,—no vulgar curiosity evinced by any +one, but the group continued, as before, to gather and scatter. The only +difference being, that the velvet chair and cushion, which had attracted some +observers before, were, now that they were tenanted by royalty, passed with a +deep and respectful salutation. How proper this, thought I, and what an +inducement for a monarch to come among his people, who remember to receive him +with such true politeness. While these thoughts were passing through my mind, +as I was leaning against a pillar that supported the gallery of the orchestra, +a gentleman whose dress, covered with gold and embroidery, bespoke him as +belonging to the court, eyed me aside with his lorgnette and then passed +rapidly on. A quadrille was now forming near me, and I was watching, with some +interest, the proceeding, when the same figure that I remarked before, +approached me, bowing deeply at every step, and shaking a very halo of powder +from his hair at each reverence. +</p> + +<p> +“May I take the liberty of introducing myself to you?” said +he.—“Le Comte Benningsen.” Here he bowed again, and I +returned the obeisance still deeper. “Regretted much that I was not +fortunate enough to make your acquaintance this evening, when I called upon +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never heard of that,” said I to myself. +</p> + +<p> +“Your excellency arrived this evening?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said I, “only a few hours since.” +</p> + +<p> +“How fond these Germans are of titles,” thought I. Remembering that +in Vienna every one is “his grace,” I thought it might be Bavarian +politeness to call every one his excellency. +</p> + +<p> +“You have not been presented, I believe?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said I; “but I hope to take an early opportunity of +paying ‘mes homages’ to his majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have just received his orders to present you now,” replied he, +with another bow. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil, you have,” thought I. “How very civil +that.” And, although I had heard innumerable anecdotes of the +free-and-easy habits of the Bavarian court, this certainly surprized me, so +that I actually, to prevent a blunder, said, “Am I to understand you, +Monsieur le Comte, that his majesty was graciously pleased”— +</p> + +<p> +“If you will follow me,” replied the courtier, motioning with his +chapeau; and in another moment I was elbowing my way through the mob of +marquisses and duchesses, on my way to the raised platform where the king was +standing. +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven grant I have not misunderstood all he has been saying,” was +my last thought as the crowd of courtiers fell back on either side, and I found +myself bowing before his majesty. How the grand mareschal entitled me I heard +not; but when the king addressed me immediately in English, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“I hope your excellency has had a good journey?” +</p> + +<p> +I felt, “Come, there is no mistake here, Harry; and it is only another +freak of fortune, who is now in good humour with you.” +</p> + +<p> +The king, who was a fine, tall, well-built man, with a large, bushy moustache, +possessed, though not handsome, a most pleasing expression; his utterance was +very rapid, and his English none of the best, so that it was with the greatest +difficulty I contrived to follow his questions, which came thick as hail upon +me. After some commonplaces about the roads, the weather, and the season, his +majesty said, +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord Callonby has been residing some time here. You know him?” +And then, not waiting for a reply, added, “Pleasant person—well +informed—like him much, and his daughters, too, how handsome they +are.” Here I blushed, and felt most awkwardly, while the king continued. +</p> + +<p> +“Hope they will remain some time—quite an ornament to our court. +Monsieur le Comte, his excellency will dance?” I here muttered an apology +about my sprained ankle, and the king turned to converse with some of the +ladies of the court. His majesty’s notice brought several persons now +around me, who introduced themselves; and, in a quarter of an hour, I felt +myself surrounded by acquaintances, each vieing with the other in showing me +attention. +</p> + +<p> +Worse places than Munich, Master Harry, thought I, as I chaperoned a fat +duchess, with fourteen quarterings, towards the refreshment-room, and had just +accepted invitations enough to occupy me three weeks in advance. +</p> + +<p> +“I have been looking every where for your excellency,” said the +grand mareschal, bustling his way to me, breathless and panting. “His +majesty desires you will make one of his party at whist, so pray come at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Figaro qua, Figaro la,” muttered I. “Never was man in such +request. God grant the whole royal family of Bavaria be not mad, for this looks +very like it. Lady Jane had better look sharp, for I have only to throw my eyes +on an archduchess, to be king of the Tyrol some fine morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“You play whist, of course; every Englishman does,” said the king. +“You shall be my partner.” +</p> + +<p> +Our adversaries were the Prince Maximilian, brother to his Majesty and the +Prussian Ambassador. As I sat down at the table, I could not help saying in my +heart, “now is your time, Harry, if my Lord Callonby should see you, your +fortune is made.” Waller passed at this moment, and as he saluted the +king, I saw him actually start with amazement as he beheld +me—“better fun this than figuring in the yellow plush, Master +Jack,” I muttered as he passed on actually thunder-struck with amazement. +But the game was begun, and I was obliged to be attentive. We won the first +game, and the king was in immense good humour as he took some franc pieces from +the Prussian minister, who, small as the stake was, seemed not to relish +losing. His majesty now complimented me upon my play, and was about to add +something when he perceived some one in the crowd, and sent an Aide de camp for +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my Lord, we expected you earlier,” and then said some words in +too low a tone for me to hear, motioning towards me as he spoke. If Waller was +surprised at seeing me where I was, it was nothing to the effect produced upon +the present party, whom I now recognized as Lord Callonby. Respect for the +presence we were in, restrained any expression on either side, and a more +ludicrous tableau than we presented can scarcely be conceived. What I would +have given that the whist party was over, I need not say, and certainly his +majesty’s eulogy upon my play came too soon, for I was now so +“destrait and unhinged,” my eyes wandering from the table to see if +Lady Jane was near, that I lost every trick, and finished by revoking. The king +rose half pettishly, observing that “Son Excellence a apparement perdu la +tete,” and I rushed forward to shake hands with Lord Callonby, totally +forgetting the royal censure in my delight at discovering my friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Lorrequer, I am indeed rejoiced to see you, and when did you +arrive.” +</p> + +<p> +“This evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“This evening! and how the deuce have you contrived already, eh? why you +seem quite chez vous here?” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall hear all,” said I hastily, “but is Lady Callonby +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Kilkee only is with me, there he is figuranting away in a gallope. +The ladies were too tired to come, particularly as they dine at court +to-morrow, the fatigue would be rather much.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have his majesty’s order to invite your Excellency to dinner +to-morrow,” said the grand Mareschal coming up at this instant. +</p> + +<p> +I bowed my acknowledgments, and turned again to Lord Callonby, whose surprise +now seemed to have reached the climax. +</p> + +<p> +“Why Lorrequer, I never heard of this? when did you adopt this new +career?” +</p> + +<p> +Not understanding the gist of the question, and conceiving that it applied to +my success at court, I answered at random, something about “falling upon +my legs, good luck, &c.,” and once more returned to the charge, +enquiring most anxiously for Lady Callonby’s health. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! she is tolerably well. Jane is the only invalid, but then we hope +Italy will restore her.” Just at this instant, Kilkee caught my eye, and +rushing over from his place beside his partner, shook me by both hands, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“Delighted to see you here Lorrequer, but as I can’t stay now, +promise to sup with me to-night at the ‘Cross’.” +</p> + +<p> +I accepted of course, and the next instant, he was whirling along in his +waltze, with one of the most lovely German girls I ever saw. Lord Callonby saw +my admiration of her, and as it were replying to my gaze, remarked, +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, very handsome indeed, but really Kilkee is going too far with it. I +rely upon you very much to reason him out of his folly, and we have all agreed +that you have most influence over him, and are most likely to be listened to +patiently.” +</p> + +<p> +Here was a new character assigned me, the confidential friend and adviser of +the family, trusted with a most delicate and important secret, likely to bring +me into most intimate terms of intercourse with them all, for the +“we” of Lord Callonby bespoke a family consultation, in which I was +deputed as the negociator. I at once promised my assistance, saying, at the +same time, that if Kilkee really was strongly attached, and had also reason to +suppose that the Lady liked him, it was not exactly fair; that in short, if the +matter had gone beyond flirtation, any interference of mine would be imprudent, +if not impertinent. Lord Callonby smiled slightly as he replied, +</p> + +<p> +“Quite right, Lorrequer, I am just as much against constraint as +yourself, if only no great barriers exist; but here with a difference of +religion, country, language, habits, in fact, everything that can create +disparity, the thing is not to be thought of.” +</p> + +<p> +I suspected that his Lordship read in my partial defence of Kilkee, a slight +attempt to prop up my own case, and felt confused and embarrassed beyond +measure at the detection. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we shall have time enough for all this. Now let us hear something +of my old friend Sir Guy. How is he looking?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am unfortunately unable to give you any account of him. I left Paris +the very day before he was expected to arrive there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh then, I have all the news myself in that case, for in his letter +which I received yesterday, he mentions that we are not to expect him before +Tuesday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Expect him. Is he coming here then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Why, I thought you were aware of that, he has been long promising +to pay us a visit, and at last, by great persuasion, we have succeeded in +getting him across the sea, and, indeed, were it not that he was coming, we +should have been in Florence before this.” +</p> + +<p> +A gleam of hope shot through my heart as I said to myself, what can this visit +mean? and the moment after I felt sick, almost to fainting, as I asked if +“my cousin Guy were also expected.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes. We shall want him I should think” said Lord Callonby with +a very peculiar smile. +</p> + +<p> +I thought I should have fallen at these few words. Come, Harry, thought I, it +is better to learn your fate at once. Now or never; death itself were +preferable to this continued suspense. If the blow is to fall, it can scarcely +sink me lower than I now feel: so reasoning, I laid my hand upon Lord +Callonby’s arm, and with a face pale as death, and a voice all but +inarticulate, said, +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord, you will pardon, I am sure—” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Lorrequer,” said his lordship interrupting me, “for +heaven’s sake sit down. How ill you are looking, we must nurse you, my +poor fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +I sank upon a bench—the light danced before my eyes—the clang of +the music sounded like the roar of a waterfall, and I felt a cold perspiration +burst over my face and forehead; at the same instant, I recognized +Kilkee’s voice, and without well knowing why, or how, discovered myself +in the open air. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, you are better now,” said Kilkee, “and will be quite +well when you get some supper, and a little of the tokay, his majesty has been +good enough to send us.” +</p> + +<p> +“His majesty desires to know if his excellency is better,” said an +aide de camp. +</p> + +<p> +I muttered my most grateful acknowledgments. +</p> + +<p> +“One of the court carriages is in waiting for your excellency,” +said a venerable old gentleman in a tie wig, whom I recognized as the minister +for foreign affairs—as he added in a lower tone to Lord Callonby, +“I fear he has been greatly overworked lately—his exertions on the +subject of the Greek loan are well known to his majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” said Lord Callonby, with a start of surprise, “I +never heard of that before.” +</p> + +<p> +If it had not been for that start of amazement, I should have died of terror. +It was the only thing that showed me I was not out of my senses, which I now +concluded the old gentleman must be, for I never had heard of the Greek loan in +my life before. +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell, mon cher colleague,” said the venerable minister as I +got into the carriage, wondering as well I might what singular band of +brotherhood united one of his majesty’s —th with the minister for +foreign affairs of the Court of Bavaria. +</p> + +<p> +When I arrived at the White-cross, I found my nerves, usually proof to any +thing, so shaken and shattered, that fearing with the difficult game before me +any mistake, however trivial, might mar all my fortunes for ever, I said a good +night to my friends, and went to bed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch55" id="ch55"></a> CHAPTER LV.<br/> +A DISCOVERY.</h2> + +<p> +“A note for Monsieur,” said the waiter, awaking me at the same time +from the soundest sleep and most delightful dream. The billet was thus:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“If your excellency does not intend to slumber during the next +twenty-four hours, it might be as well to remember that we are waiting +breakfast. Ever yours, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Kilkee.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true, then,” said I—following up the delusion of my +dream. “It is true, I am really domesticated once more with the +Callonbys. My suit is prospering, and at length the long-sought, long-hoped for +moment is come—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Harry,” said Kilkee, as he dashed open the door. +“Well, Harry, how are you, better than last night, I hope?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, considerably. In fact, I can’t think what could have been +the matter with me; but I felt confoundedly uncomfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +“You did! Why, man, what can you mean; was it not a joke?” +</p> + +<p> +“A joke,” said I, with a start. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to be sure. I thought it was only the sequel of the other +humbug.” +</p> + +<p> +“The sequel of the other humbug!” Gracious mercy! thought I, +getting pale with horror, is it thus he ventures to designate my attachment to +his sister? +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, it’s all over now. What the devil could have persuaded +you to push the thing so far?” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, I am so completely in the dark as to your meaning that I only +get deeper in mystery by my chance replies. What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do I mean! Why, the affair of last night of course. All Munich is +full of it, and most fortunately for you, the king has taken it all in the most +good-humoured way, and laughs more than any one else about it.” +</p> + +<p> +Oh, then, thought I, I must have done or said something last night during my +illness, that I can’t remember now. “Come, Kilkee, out with it. +What happened last night, that has served to amuse the good people of Munich? +for as I am a true man, I forget all you are alluding to.” +</p> + +<p> +“And don’t remember the Greek Loan—eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Greek Loan!” +</p> + +<p> +“And your Excellency’s marked reception by his Majesty? By Jove +though, it was the rarest piece of impudence I ever heard of; hoaxing a crowned +head, quizzing one of the Lord’s anointed is un peu trop fort.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you really do not wish to render me insane at once, for the love of +mercy say, in plain terms, what all this means.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, I see you are incorrigible; but as breakfast is waiting all +this time, we shall have your explanations below stairs.” +</p> + +<p> +Before I had time for another question Kilkee passed his arm within mine, and +led me along the corridor, pouring out, the entire time a whole rhapsody about +the practical joke of my late illness, which he was pleased to say would ring +from one end of Europe to the other. +</p> + +<p> +Lord Callonby was alone in the breakfast-room when we entered, and the moment +he perceived me called out, +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, Lorrequer, you here still? Why, man, I thought you’d have been +over the frontier early this morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, my lord, I am not exactly aware of any urgent reason for so +rapid a flight.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not! The devil, you are not. Why, you must surely have known his +majesty to be the best tempered man in his dominions then, or you would never +have played off such a ruse, though I must say, there never was anything better +done. Old Heldersteen, the minister for foreign affairs, is nearly deranged +this morning about it—it seems that he was the first that fell into the +trap; but seriously speaking, I think it would be better if you got away from +this; the king, it is true, has behaved with the best possible good feeling; +but—” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I have a favour to ask, perhaps, indeed in all likelihood the +last I shall ever ask of your lordship, it is this—what are you alluding +to all this while, and for what especial reason do you suggest my immediate +departure from Munich?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bless my heart and soul—you surely cannot mean to carry the thing +on any further—you never can intend to assume your ministerial functions +by daylight?” +</p> + +<p> +“My what!—my ministerial functions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, that were too much—even though his majesty did +say—that you were the most agreeable diplomate he had met for a long +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“I, a diplomate.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, certainly. Surely you cannot be acting now; why, gracious mercy, +Lorrequer! can it be possible that you were not doing it by design, do you +really not know in what character you appeared last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“If in any other than that of Harry Lorrequer, my lord, I pledge my +honour, I am ignorant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor the uniform you wore, don’t you know what it meant?” +</p> + +<p> +“The tailor sent it to my room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, man, by Jove, this will kill me,” said Lord Callonby, +bursting into a fit of laughter, in which Kilkee, a hitherto silent spectator +of our colloquy, joined to such an extent, that I thought he should burst a +bloodvessel. “Why man, you went as the Charge d’Affaires.” +</p> + +<p> +“I, the Charge d’Affaires!” +</p> + +<p> +“That you did, and a most successful debut you made of it.” +</p> + +<p> +While shame and confusion covered me from head to foot at the absurd and +ludicrous blunder I had been guilty of, the sense of the ridiculous was so +strong in me, that I fell upon a sofa and laughed on with the others for full +ten minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Excellency is, I am rejoiced to find, in good spirits,” said +Lady Callonby, entering and presenting her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“He is so glad to have finished the Greek Loan,” said Lady +Catherine, smiling with a half malicious twinkle of the eye. Just at this +instant another door opened, and Lady Jane appeared. Luckily for me, the +increased mirth of the party, as Lord Callonby informed them of my blunder, +prevented their paying any attention to me, for as I half sprung forward toward +her, my agitation would have revealed to any observer, the whole state of my +feelings. I took her hand which she extended to me, without speaking, and +bowing deeply over it, raised my head and looked into her eyes, as if to read +at one glance, my fate, and when I let fall her hand, I would not have +exchanged my fortune for a kingdom. +</p> + +<p> +“You have heard, Jane, how our friend opened his campaign in Munich last +night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I hope, Mr. Lorrequer, they are only quizzing. You surely could +not—” +</p> + +<p> +“Could not. What he could not—what he would not do, is beyond my +calculation to make out,” said Kilkee, laughing, “anything in life, +from breaking an axletree to hoaxing a king;” I turned, as may be +imagined, a deaf ear to this allusion, which really frightened me, not knowing +how far Kilkee’s information might lead, nor how he might feel disposed +to use it. Lady Jane turned a half reproachful glance at me, as if rebuking my +folly; but in the interest she thus took in me, I should not have bartered it +for the smile of the proudest queen in Christendom. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast over, Lord Callonby undertook to explain to the Court the blunder, by +which I had unwittingly been betrayed into personating the newly arrived +minister, and as the mistake was more of their causing than my own, my excuses +were accepted, and when his lordship returned to the hotel, he brought with him +an invitation for me to dine at Court in my own unaccredited character. By this +time I had been carrying on the siege as briskly as circumstances permitted; +Lady Callonby being deeply interested in her newly arrived purchases, and Lady +Catherine being good-natured enough to pretend to be so also, left me, at +intervals, many opportunities of speaking to Lady Jane. +</p> + +<p> +As I feared that such occasions would not often present themselves, I +determined on making the best use of my time, and at once led the conversation +towards the goal I aimed at, by asking, “if Lady Jane had completely +forgotten the wild cliffs and rocky coast of Clare, amid the tall mountains and +glaciered peaks of the Tyrol?” +</p> + +<p> +“Far from it,” she replied. “I have a most clear remembrance +of bold Mogher and the rolling swell of the blue Atlantic, and long to feel its +spray once more upon my cheek; but then, I knew it in childhood—your +acquaintance with it was of a later date, and connected with fewer happy +associations.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fewer happy associations—how can you say so? Was it not there the +brightest hours of my whole life were passed, was it not there I first +met—” +</p> + +<p> +“Kilkee tells me,” said Lady Jane, interrupting me shortly, +“that Miss Bingham is extremely pretty.” +</p> + +<p> +This was turning my flank with a vengeance; so I muttered something about +differences of tastes, &c. and continued, “I understand my worthy +cousin Guy, had the good fortune to make your acquaintance in Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +It was now her turn to blush, which she did deeply, and said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“He is expected, I believe, in a few days at Munich,” said I, +fixing my eyes upon her, and endeavouring to read her thoughts; she blushed +more deeply, and the blood at my own heart ran cold, as I thought over all I +had heard, and I muttered to myself “she loves him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lorrequer, the carriage is waiting, and as we are going to the +Gallery this morning, and have much to see, pray let us have your +escort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am sure,” said Catherine, “his assistance will be +considerable—particularly if his knowledge of art only equals his tact in +botany. Don’t you think so, Jane?”—But Jane was gone. +</p> + +<p> +They left the room to dress, and I was alone—alone with my anxious, now +half despairing thoughts, crowding and rushing upon my beating brain. She loves +him, and I have only come to witness her becoming the wife of another. I see it +all, too plainly;—my Uncle’s arrival—Lord Callonby’s +familiar manner—Jane’s own confession. All—all convince me, +that my fate is decided. Now, then, for one last brief explanation, and I leave +Munich, never to see her more. Just as I had so spoken, she entered. Her gloves +had been forgotten in the room, and she came in not knowing that I was there. +What would I not have given at that moment, for the ready witted assurance, the +easy self-possession, with which I should have made my advances had my heart +not been as deeply engaged as I now felt it. Alas! My courage was gone; there +was too much at stake, and I preferred, now, that the time was come, any +suspense, any vacillation, to the dreadful certainty of refusal. +</p> + +<p> +These were my first thoughts, as she entered; how they were followed, I cannot +say. The same evident confusion of my brain, which I once felt when mounting +the breach in a storm-party, now completely beset me; and as then, when death +and destruction raged on every side, I held on my way regardless of every +obstacle, and forgetting all save the goal before me; so did I now, in the +intensity of my excitement, disregard every thing, save the story of my love, +which I poured forth with that fervour which truth only can give. But she spoke +not,—her averted head,—her cold and tremulous hand, and half-drawn +sigh were all that replied to me, as I waited for that one word upon which hung +all my fortune. At length her hand, which I scarcely held within my own, was +gently withdrawn. She lifted it to her eyes, but still was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough,” said I, “I seek not to pain you more. The daring +ambition that prompted me to love you, has met its heaviest retribution. +Farewell,—You, Lady Jane, have nothing to reproach yourself +with—You never encouraged, you never deceived me. I, and I alone have +been to blame, and mine must be the suffering. Adieu, then once more, and now +for ever.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned slowly round, and as the handkerchief fell from her hand,—her +features were pale as marble,—I saw that she was endeavouring to speak, +but could not; and at length, as the colour came slowly back to her cheek, her +lips moved, and just as I leaned forward, with a beating heart to hear, her +sister came running forward, and suddenly checked herself in her career, as she +said, laughingly,— +</p> + +<p> +“Mille pardons, Jane, but his Excellency must take another occasion to +explain the quadruple alliance, for mamma has been waiting in the carriage +these ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +I followed them to the door, placed them in the carriage, and was turning again +towards the house, when Lady Callonby said— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Lorrequer, we count upon you—you must not desert +us.” +</p> + +<p> +I muttered something about not feeling well. +</p> + +<p> +“And then, perhaps, the Greek loan is engaging your attention,” +said Catherine; “or, mayhap, some reciprocity treaty is not +prospering.” +</p> + +<p> +The malice of this last sally told, for Jane blushed deeply, and I felt +overwhelmed with confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“But pray come—the drive will do you good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your ladyship will, I am certain, excuse”— +</p> + +<p> +Just as I had got so far, I caught Lady Jane’s eye, for the first time +since we had left the drawing-room. What I read there, I could not, for the +life of me, say; but, instead of finishing my sentence, I got into the +carriage, and drove off, very much to the surprise of Lady Callonby, who, never +having studied magnetism, knew very little the cause of my sudden recovery. +</p> + +<p> +The thrill of hope that shot through my heart succeeding so rapidly the dark +gloom of my despairing thoughts, buoyed me up, and while I whispered to myself, +“all may not yet be lost,” I summoned my best energies to my aid. +Luckily for me, I was better qualified to act as cicerone in a gallery than as +a guide in a green-house; and with the confidence that knowledge of a subject +ever inspires, I rattled away about art and artists, greatly to the edification +of Lady Callonby—much to the surprise of Lady Catherine—and, better +than all, evidently to the satisfaction of her, to win whose praise I would +gladly have risked my life. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said I, as I placed my fair friend before a delicious +little madonna of Carl Dolci—“there is, perhaps, the triumph of +colouring—for the downy softness of that cheek—the luscious depth +of that blue eye—the waving richness of those sunny locks, all is +perfect—fortunately so beautiful a head is not a monopoly, for he painted +many copies of this picture.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite true,” said a voice behind, “and mine at Elton is, I +think, if anything, better than this.” +</p> + +<p> +I turned, and beheld my good old uncle, Sir Guy, who was standing beside Lady +Callonby. While I welcomed my worthy relative, I could not help casting a +glance around to see if Guy were also there, and not perceiving him, my heart +beat freely again. +</p> + +<p> +My uncle, it appeared, had just arrived, and lost no time in joining us at the +gallery. His manner to me was cordial to a degree; and I perceived that, +immediately upon being introduced to Lady Jane, he took considerable pains to +observe her, and paid her the most marked attention. +</p> + +<p> +The first moment I could steal unnoticed, I took the opportunity of asking if +Guy were come. That one fact were to me all, and upon the answer to my +question, I hung with deep anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Guy here!—no, not yet. The fact is, Harry, my boy, Guy has not got +on here as well as I could have wished. Everything had been arranged among +us—Callonby behaved most handsomely—and, as far as regarded myself, +I threw no impediment in the way. But still, I don’t know how it was, but +Guy did not advance, and the matter now”— +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, how does it stand? Have you any hopes to put all to rights +again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Harry, I think, with your assistance, much may be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, count upon me by all means,” said I, with a sneering +bitterness, that my uncle could not have escaped remarking, had his attention +not been drawn off by Lady Callonby. +</p> + +<p> +What have I done—what sin did I meditate before I was born, that I should +come into the world branded with failure in all I attempt? Is it not enough +that my cousin, my elder by some months, should be rich while I am +poor—honoured and titled, while I am unknown and unnoticed?—but is +he also to be preferred to me in every station in life? Is there no feeling of +the heart so sacred that it must not succumb to primogeniture? +</p> + +<p> +“What a dear old man Sir Guy is,” said Catherine, interrupting my +sad reflections, “and how gallant; he is absolutely flirting with Lady +Jane.” +</p> + +<p> +And quite true it was. The old gentleman was paying his devoirs with a studied +anxiety to please, that went to my very heart as I witnessed it. The remainder +of that day to me was a painful and suffering one. My intention of suddenly +leaving Munich had been abandoned, why, I knew not. I felt that I was hoping +against hope, and that my stay was only to confirm, by the most “damning +proof,” how surely I was fated to disappointment. My reasonings all ended +in one point. If she really love Guy, then my present attentions can only be a +source of unhappiness to her; if she do not, is there any prospect that from +the bare fact of my attachment, so proud a family as the Callonbys will suffer +their daughter to make a mere “marriage d’inclination?” +</p> + +<p> +There was but one answer to this question, and I had at last the courage to +make it: and yet the Callonbys had marked me out for their attentions, and had +gone unusually out of their way to inflict injury upon me, if all were meant to +end in nothing. If I only could bring myself to think that this was a +systematic game adopted by them, to lead to the subsequent arrangement with my +cousin!—if I could but satisfy my doubts on this head——What +threats of vengeance I muttered, I cannot remember, for I was summoned at that +critical moment to attend the party to the palace. +</p> + +<p> +The state of excitement I was in, was an ill preparative for the rigid +etiquette of a court dinner. All passed off, however, happily, and the king, by +a most good-natured allusion to the blunder of the night before, set me +perfectly at ease on that head. +</p> + +<p> +I was placed next to Lady Jane at dinner; and half from wounded pride, half +from the momentarily increasing conviction that all was lost, chatted away +gaily, without any evidence of a stronger feeling than the mere vicinity of a +pretty person is sure to inspire. What success this game was attended with I +know not; but the suffering it cost me, I shall never cease to remember. One +satisfaction I certainly did experience—she was manifestly piqued, and +several times turned towards the person on the other side of her, to avoid the +tone of indifference in which I discussed matters that were actually wringing +my own heart at the moment. Yet such was the bitterness of my spirit, that I +set down this conduct on her part as coquetry; and quite convinced myself that +any slight encouragement she might ever have given my attentions, was only +meant to indulge a spirit of vanity, by adding another to the list of her +conquests. +</p> + +<p> +As the feeling grew upon me, I suppose my manner to her became more palpably +cutting, for it ended at last in our discontinuing to speak, and when we +retired from the palace, I accompanied her to the carriage in silence, and +wished her a cold and distant good night, without any advance to touch her hand +at parting—and yet that parting, I had destined for our last. +</p> + +<p> +The greater part of that night I spent in writing letters. One was to Jane +herself owning my affection, confessing that even the “rudesse” of +my late conduct was the fruit of it, and finally assuring her that failing to +win from her any return of my passion, I had resolved never to meet her +more—I also wrote a short note to my uncle, thanking him for all he had +formerly done in my behalf, but coldly declining for the future, any assistance +upon his part, resolving that upon my own efforts alone should I now rest my +fortunes. To Lord Callonby I wrote at greater length, recapitulating the +history of our early intimacy, and accusing him of encouraging me in +expectations, which, as he never intended to confirm them, were fated to prove +my ruin. More—much more I said, which to avow, I should gladly shrink +from, were it not that I have pledged myself to honesty in these +“Confessions,” and as they depict the bitterness and misery of my +spirit, I must plead guilty to them here. In a word, I felt myself injured. I +saw no outlet for redress, and the only consolation open to my wounded pride +and crushed affection, was to show, that if I felt myself a victim, at least I +was not a dupe. I set about packing up for the journey, whither, I knew not. My +leave was nearly expired, yet I could not bear the thought of rejoining the +regiment. My only desire was to leave Munich, and that speedily. When all my +arrangements were completed I went down noiselessly to the inn yard to order +post-horses by day-break, there to my surprise I found all activity and bustle. +Though so late at night, a courier had arrived from England for Lord Callonby, +with some important dispatches from the Government; this would, at any other +time, have interested me deeply; now I heard the news without a particle of +feeling, and I made all the necessary dispositions for my journey, without +paying the slightest attention to what was going on about me. I had just +finished, when Lord Callonby’s valet came to say, that his lordship +wished to see me immediately in his dressing room. Though I would gladly have +declined any further interview, I saw no means of escape, and followed the +servant to his lordship’s room. +</p> + +<p> +There I found Lord Callonby in his dressing gown and night cap, surrounded by +papers, letters, despatch boxes, and red tape-tied parcels, that all bespoke +business. +</p> + +<p> +“Lorrequer, sit down, my boy, I have much to say to you, and as we have +no time to lose, you must forego a little sleep. Is the door closed? I have +just received most important news from England, and to begin,” here his +lordship opened a letter and read as follows:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“My Lord—They are out at last—the majority on Friday +increased to forty yesterday evening, when they resigned; the Duke has, +meanwhile, assumed the reins till further arrangements can be perfected, and +despatches are now preparing to bring all our friends about us. The only +rumours as yet are, L——, for the Colonies, H——, to the +Foreign Office, W—— President of the Council, and we anxiously hope +yourself Viceroy to Ireland. In any case lose no time in coming back to +England. The struggle will be a sharp one, as the outs are distracted, and we +shall want you much. Ever yours, my dear lord, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Henry ——.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is much sooner than I looked for, Lorrequer, perhaps almost than I +wished; but as it has taken place, we must not decline the battle; now what I +wanted with you is this—if I go to Ireland I should like your acceptance +of the Private Secretary’s Office. Come, come, no objections; you know +that you need not leave the army, you can become unattached, I’ll arrange +all that; apropos, this concerns you, it is from the Horse Guards, you need not +read it now though, it is merely your gazette to the company; your promotion, +however, shall not stop there; however, the important thing I want with you is +this, I wish you to start for England to-morrow; circumstances prevent my going +from this for a few days. You can see L—— and W——, +&c., and explain all I have to say; I shall write a few letters, and some +hints for your own guidance; and as Kilkee never would have head for these +matters, I look to your friendship to do it for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Looking only to the post, as the proposal suited my already made resolve to +quit Munich, I acceded at once, and assured Lord Callonby that I should be +ready in an hour. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite right, Lorrequer, but still I shall not need this, you cannot +leave before eleven or twelve o’clock, in fact I have another service to +exact at your hands before we part with you; meanwhile, try and get some sleep, +you are not likely to know anything of a bed before you reach the +Clarendon.” So saying, he hurried me from the room, and as he closed the +door, I heard him muttering his satisfaction, that already so far all had been +well arranged. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2> <a name="ch56" id="ch56"></a> CHAPTER LVI.<br/> +CONCLUSION.</h2> + +<p> +Sleep came on me, without my feeling it, and amid all the distracting cares and +pressing thoughts that embarrassed me, I only awoke when the roll of the +caleche sounded beneath my window, and warned me that I must be stirring and +ready for the road. +</p> + +<p> +Since it is to be thus, thought I, it is much better that this opportunity +should occur of my getting away at once, and thus obviate all the +unpleasantness of my future meeting with Lady Jane; and the thousand +conjectures that my departure, so sudden and unannounced might give rise to. So +be it, and I have now only one hope more—that the terms we last parted +on, may prevent her appearing at the breakfast table; with these words I +entered the room, where the Callonbys were assembled, all save Lady Jane. +</p> + +<p> +“This is too provoking; really, Mr. Lorrequer,” said Lady Callonby, +with her sweetest smile, and most civil manner, “quite too bad to lose +you now, that you have just joined us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, no tampering with our party,” said Lord Callonby, “my +friend here must not be seduced by honied words and soft speeches, from the +high road that leads to honours and distinctions—now for your +instructions.” Here his lordship entered into a very deep discussion as +to the conditions upon which his support might be expected, and relied upon, +which Kilkee from time to time interrupted by certain quizzing allusions to the +low price he put upon his services, and suggested that a mission for myself +should certainly enter into the compact. +</p> + +<p> +At length breakfast was over, and Lord Callonby said, “now make your +adieux, and let me see you for a moment in Sir Guy’s room, we have a +little discussion there, in which your assistance is wanting.” I +accordingly took my farewell of Lady Callonby, and approached to do so to Lady +Jane, but much to my surprise, she made me a very distant salute, and said in +her coldest tone, “I hope you may have a pleasant journey.” Before +I had recovered my surprise at this movement, Kilkee came forward and offered +to accompany me a few miles of the road. I accepted readily the kind offer, and +once more bowing to the ladies, withdrew. And thus it is, thought I, that I +leave all my long dreamed of happiness, and such is the end of many a long +day’s ardent expectation. When I entered my uncle’s room, my temper +was certainly not in the mood most fit for further trials, though it was doomed +to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry, my boy, we are in great want of you here, and as time presses, we +must state our case very briefly. You are aware, Sir Guy tells me, that your +cousin Guy has been received among us as the suitor of my eldest daughter. It +has been an old compact between us to unite our families by ties still stronger +than our very ancient friendship, and this match has been accordingly looked +to, by us both with much anxiety. Now, although on our parts I think no +obstacle intervenes, yet I am sorry to say, there appear difficulties in other +quarters. In fact, certain stories have reached Lady Jane’s ears +concerning your cousin, which have greatly prejudiced her against him, and we +have reason to think most unfairly; for we have succeeded in tracing some of +the offences in question, not to Guy, but to a Mr. Morewood, who it seems has +personated your cousin upon more than one occasion, and not a little to his +disadvantage. Now we wish you to sift these matters to the bottom, by your +going to Paris as soon as you can venture to leave London—find out this +man, and if possible, make all straight; if money is wanting, he must of course +have it; but bear one thing in mind, that any possible step which may remove +this unhappy impression from my daughter’s mind, will be of infinite +service, and never forgotten by us. Kilkee too has taken some dislike to Guy. +You have only, however, to talk to him on the matter, and he is sure to pay +attention to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And, Harry,” said my uncle, “tell Guy, I am much displeased +that he is not here, I expected him to leave Paris with me, but some absurd +wager at the Jockey Club detained him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another thing, Harry, you may as well mention to your cousin, that Sir +Guy has complied with every suggestion that he formerly threw out—he will +understand the allusion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes,” said my uncle, “tell him roundly, he shall have +Elton Hall; I have fitted up Marsden for myself; so no difficulty lies in that +quarter.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may add, if you like, that my present position with the government +enables me to offer him a speedy prospect of a Regiment, and that I think he +had better not leave the army.” +</p> + +<p> +“And say that by next post Hamercloth’s bond for the six thousand +shall be paid off, and let him send me a note of any other large sum he +owes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And above all things, no more delays. I must leave this for England +inevitably, and as the ladies will probably prefer wintering in +Italy—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh certainly,” said my uncle, “the wedding must take +place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I scarcely can ask you to come to us on the occasion, though I need not +say how greatly we should all feel gratified if you could do so,” said my +Lord. +</p> + +<p> +While this cross fire went on from both sides, I looked from one to the other +of the speakers. My first impression being, that having perceived and disliked +my attention to Lady Jane, they adopted this “mauvaise +plaisanterie” as a kind of smart lesson for my future guidance. My next +impression was that they were really in earnest, but about the very stupidest +pair of old gentlemen that ever wore hair powder. +</p> + +<p> +“And this is all,” said I, drawing a long breath, and inwardly +uttering a short prayer for patience. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I believe, I have mentioned everything,” said Lord Callonby, +“except that if anything occurs to yourself that offers a prospect of +forwarding this affair, we leave you a carte blanche to adopt it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, then,” said I, “I am to understand that as no +other difficulties lie in the way than those your Lordship has mentioned, the +feelings of the parties, their affections are mutual.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, of course, your cousin, I suppose, has made himself agreeable; he is +a good looking fellow, and in fact, I am not aware, why they should not like +each other, eh Sir Guy?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure, and the Elton estates run half the shire with your +Gloucester property; never was there a more suitable match.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then only one point remains, and that being complied with, you may +reckon upon my services; nay, more, I promise you success. Lady Jane’s +own consent must be previously assured to me, without this, I most positively +decline moving a step in the matter; that once obtained, freely and without +constraint, I pledge myself to do all you require.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite fair, Harry, I perfectly approve of your scruples,” so +saying, his Lordship rose and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Harry, and yourself, what is to be done for you, has Callonby +offered you anything yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes sir, his Lordship has most kindly offered me the under secretaryship +in Ireland, but I have resolved on declining it, though I shall not at present +say so, lest he should feel any delicacy in employing me upon the present +occasion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, is the boy deranged—decline it—what have you got in the +world, that you should refuse such an appointment.” +</p> + +<p> +The colour mounted to my cheeks, my temples burned, and what I should have +replied to this taunt, I know not, for passion had completely mastered me. When +Lord Callonby again entered the room, his usually calm and pale face was +agitated and flushed; and his manner tremulous and hurried; for an instant he +was silent, then turning towards my uncle, he took his hand affectionately, and +said, +</p> + +<p> +“My good old friend, I am deeply, deeply grieved; but we must abandon +this scheme. I have just seen my daughter, and from the few words which we have +had together, I find that her dislike to the match is invincible, and in fact, +she has obtained my promise never again to allude to it. If I were willing to +constrain the feelings of my child, you yourself would not permit it. So here +let us forget that we ever hoped for, ever calculated on a plan in which both +our hearts were so deeply interested.” +</p> + +<p> +These words, few as they were, were spoken with deep feeling, and for the first +time, I looked upon the speaker with sincere regard. They were both silent for +some minutes; Sir Guy, who was himself much agitated, spoke first. +</p> + +<p> +“So be it then, Callonby, and thus do I relinquish one—perhaps the +only cheering prospect my advanced age held out to me. I have long wished to +have your daughter for my niece, and since I have known her, the wish has +increased tenfold.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was the chosen dream of all my anticipations,” said Lord +Callonby, “and now Jane’s affections only—but let it +pass.” +</p> + +<p> +“And is there then really no remedy, can nothing be struck out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not quite so sure, my Lord,” said I tremulously. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Lorrequer, you are a ready witted fellow I know, but this passes +even your ingenuity, besides I have given her my word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Even so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what do you mean, speak out man,” said Sir Guy, +“I’ll give you ten thousand pounds on the spot if you suggest a +means of overcoming this difficulty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you might not accede afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“I pledge myself to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I too,” said Lord Callonby, “if no unfair stratagem be +resorted to towards my daughter. If she only give her free and willing consent, +I agree.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you must bid higher, uncle, ten thousand won’t do, for the +bargain is well worth the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Name your price, boy, and keep your word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Agreed then,” holding my uncle to his promise, “I pledge +myself that his nephew shall be husband of Lady Jane Callonby, and now, my +Lord, read Harry vice Guy in the contract, and I am certain my uncle is too +faithful to his plighted word, and too true to his promise not to say it shall +be.” +</p> + +<p> +The suddenness of this rash declaration absolutely stunned them both, and then +recovering at the same moment, their eyes met. +</p> + +<p> +“Fairly caught, Guy” said Lord Callonby, “a bold stroke if it +only succeeds.” +</p> + +<p> +“And it shall, by G—,” said my uncle, “Elton is yours, +Harry, and with seven thousand a year, and my nephew to boot, Callonby +won’t refuse you.” +</p> + +<p> +There are moments in life in which conviction will follow a bold “coup de +main,” that never would have ensued from the slow process of reasoning. +Luckily for me, this was one of those happy intervals. Lord Callonby catching +my uncle’s enthusiasm, seized me by the hand and said, +</p> + +<p> +“With her consent, Lorrequer, you may count upon mine, and faith if truth +must be told, I always preferred you to the other.” +</p> + +<p> +What my uncle added, I waited not to listen to; but with one bound sprung from +the room—dashed up stairs to Lady Callonby’s +drawing-room—looked rapidly around to see if SHE were there, and then +without paying the slightest attention to the questions of Lady Callonby and +her younger daughter, was turning to leave the room, when my eye caught the +flutter of a Cachmere shawl in the garden beneath. In an instant the window was +torn open—I stood upon the sill, and though the fall was some twenty +feet, with one spring I took it, and before the ladies had recovered from their +first surprise at my unaccountable conduct, put the finishing stroke to their +amazement, by throwing my arms around Lady Jane, and clasping her to my heart. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot remember by what process I explained the change that had taken place +in my fortunes. I had some very vague recollection of vows of eternal love +being mingled with praises of my worthy uncle, and the state of my affections +and finances were jumbled up together, but still sufficiently intelligible to +satisfy my beloved Jane—that this time at least, I made love with +something more than my own consent to support me. Before we had walked half +round the garden, she had promised to be mine; and Harry Lorrequer, who rose +that morning with nothing but despair and darkness before him, was now the +happiest of men. +</p> + +<p> +Dear reader, I have little more to confess. Lord Callonby’s politics were +fortunately deemed of more moment than maidenly scruples, and the treasury +benches more respected than the trousseau. Our wedding was therefore settled +for the following week. Meanwhile, every day seemed to teem with its own meed +of good fortune. My good uncle, under whose patronage, forty odd years before, +Colonel Kamworth had obtained his commission, undertook to effect the +reconciliation between him and the Wallers, who now only waited for our +wedding, before they set out for Hydrabad cottage, that snug receptacle of +Curry and Madeira, Jack confessing that he had rather listen to the siege of +Java, by that fire-side, than hear an account of Waterloo from the lips of the +great Duke himself. +</p> + +<p> +I wrote to Trevanion to invite him to Munich for the ceremony, and the same +post which informed me that he was en route to join us, brought also a letter +from my eccentric friend O’Leary, whose name having so often occurred in +these confessions, I am tempted to read aloud, the more so as its contents are +no secret, Kilkee having insisted upon reading it to a committee of the whole +family assembled after dinner. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Dear Lorrequer,<br/> + “The trial is over, and I am acquitted, but still in St. Pelagie; for +as the government were determined to cut my head off if guilty, so the mob +resolved to murder me if innocent. A pleasant place this: before the trial, I +was the most popular man in Paris; my face was in every print shop; plaster +busts of me, with a great organ behind the ear, in all the thoroughfares; my +autograph selling at six and twenty sous, and a lock of my hair at five francs. +Now that it is proved I did not murder the “minister at war,” (who +is in excellent health and spirits) the popular feeling against me is very +violent; and I am looked upon as an imposter, who obtained his notoriety under +false pretences; and Vernet, who had begun my picture for a Judas, has left off +in disgust. Your friend Trevanion is a trump; he procured a Tipperary gentleman +to run away with Mrs. Ram, and they were married at Frankfort, on Tuesday last. +By the by, what an escape you had of Emily: she was only quizzing you all the +time. She is engaged to be married to Tom O’Flaherty, who is here now. +Emily’s imitation of you, with the hat a little on one side, and a +handkerchief flourishing away in one hand, is capital; but when she kneels down +and says, ‘dearest Emily, &c.’ you’d swear it was +yourself.”—[Here the laughter of the auditory prevented Kilkee +proceeding, who, to my utter confusion, resumed after a +little.]—“Don’t be losing your time making up to Lord +Callonby’s daughter”—[here came another burst of +laughter]—“they say here you have not a chance, and moreover +she’s a downright flirt.”—[“It is your turn now, +Jane,” said Kilkee, scarcely able to proceed.]—“Besides that, +her father’s a pompous old Tory, that won’t give a sixpence with +her; and the old curmudgeon, your uncle, has as much idea of providing for you, +as he has of dying.”—[This last sally absolutely convulsed all +parties.]—“To be sure Kilkee’s a fool, but he is no use to +you.”—[“Begad I thought I was going to escape,” said +the individual alluded to, “but your friend O’Leary cuts on every +side of him.”] The letter, after some very grave reflections upon the +hopelessness of my pursuit, concluded with a kind pledge to meet me soon, and +become my travelling companion. Meanwhile, added he, “I must cross over +to London, and look after my new work, which is to come out soon, under the +title of ‘the Loiterings of Arthur O’Leary.’” +</p> + +<p> +This elegant epistle formed the subject of much laughter and conversation +amongst us long after it was concluded; and little triumph could be claimed by +any party, when nearly all were so roughly handled. So passed the last evening +I spent in Munich—the next morning I was married. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +THE END. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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