diff options
Diffstat (limited to '8674-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/8674-h.htm | 22229 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0001.jpg | bin | 0 -> 288920 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0001h.jpg | bin | 0 -> 71776 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0034.jpg | bin | 0 -> 309370 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0083.jpg | bin | 0 -> 307750 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0102.jpg | bin | 0 -> 279545 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0124.jpg | bin | 0 -> 373333 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0158.jpg | bin | 0 -> 246571 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0163.jpg | bin | 0 -> 333319 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0217.jpg | bin | 0 -> 297689 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0225.jpg | bin | 0 -> 341208 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0247.jpg | bin | 0 -> 230032 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0255.jpg | bin | 0 -> 283964 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0317.jpg | bin | 0 -> 372810 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0362.jpg | bin | 0 -> 323098 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0410.jpg | bin | 0 -> 345011 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0412.jpg | bin | 0 -> 275478 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0471.jpg | bin | 0 -> 278037 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8674-h/images/0481.jpg | bin | 0 -> 330680 bytes |
19 files changed, 22229 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/8674-h/8674-h.htm b/8674-h/8674-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a5e25d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/8674-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,22229 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!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" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Charles O'malley, Vol. 2 by Charles Lever. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 100%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + --> +</style> + </head> + <body> + <h1> + CHARLES O'MALLEY + </h1> + <h3> + The Irish Dragoon + </h3> + <h2> + BY CHARLES LEVER. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume +2 (of 2), by Charles Lever + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 2 (of 2) + +Author: Charles Lever + +Release Date: August 14, 2004 [EBook #8674] +Last Updated: September 2, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLES O'MALLEY, II. *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team. Illustrated +HTML by David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<h1> +CHARLES O’MALLEY +</h1> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<h3> +The Irish Dragoon +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +BY CHARLES LEVER. +</h2> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHIZ. +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h4> +IN TWO VOLUMES. +</h4> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<h3> +VOL. II. +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0001.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Exorcising a Spirit. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="toc"> +<big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2H_4_0001"> CHARLES O’MALLEY. </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XLIX. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER L. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER LI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER LII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER LIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER LIV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER LV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2H_CONC"> CONCLUSION. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2H_4_0058"> L’ENVOI. </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /><br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<big><b>ILLUSTRATIONS</b></big> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0001"> Exorcising a Spirit. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0002"> A Flying Shot. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0003"> O’malley Following the Custom of his Country. +</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0004"> Mr. Free Turned Spaniard. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0005"> Charley Trying a Charger. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0006"> Going out to Dinner. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0007"> Disadvantage of Breakfasting over a +Duelling-party. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0008"> The Tables Turned. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0009"> Mr. Free Pipes While his Friends Pipe-clay. +</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0010"> A Hunting Turn-out in the Peninsula. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0011"> Mike Capturing the Trumpeter. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0012"> Captain Mickey Free Relating his Heroic +Deeds. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0013"> Baby Blake. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0014"> Mickey Astonishes the Natives. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0015"> The Gentlemen Who Never Sleep. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0016"> Death of Hammersley. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0017"> The Welcome Home. </a> +</p> +</blockquote> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHARLES O’MALLEY. +</h2> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<h3> +THE IRISH DRAGOON. +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<h2> +CHAPTER I. +</h2> +<p> +THE DOCTOR’S TALE.[1] +</p> +<p> +“It is now some fifteen years since—if it wasn’t for O’Shaughnessy’s +wrinkles, I could not believe it five—we were quartered in Loughrea. +There were, besides our regiment, the Fiftieth and the Seventy-third, and +a troop or two of horse artillery, and the whole town was literally a +barrack, and as you may suppose, the pleasantest place imaginable. All the +young ladies, and indeed all those that had got their brevet some years +before, came flocking into the town, not knowing but the Devil might +persuade a raw ensign or so to marry some of them. +</p> +<p> +“Such dinner parties, such routs and balls, never were heard of west of +Athlone. The gayeties were incessant; and if good feeding, plenty of +claret, short whist, country dances, and kissing could have done the +thing, there wouldn’t have been a bachelor with a red coat for six miles +around. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> +<!-- Note --></a> +</p> +<blockquote> +<p> +1 [ I cannot permit the reader to fall into the same blunder, with +regard to the worthy “Maurice,” as my friend Charles O’Malley has done. +It is only fair to state that the doctor in the following tale was +hoaxing the “dragoon.” A braver and a better fellow than Quill never +existed, equally beloved by his brother officers, as delighted in for +his convivial talents. His favorite amusement was to invent some story +or adventure in which, mixing up his own name with that of some friend +or companion, the veracity of the whole was never questioned. Of this +nature was the pedigree he devised in the last chapter of Vol. I. to +impose upon O’Malley, who believed implicitly all he told him.] +</p> +</blockquote> +<p> +“You know the west, O’Mealey, so I needn’t tell you what the Galway girls +are like: fine, hearty, free-and-easy, talking, laughing devils, but as +deep and ‘cute as a Master in Chancery; ready for any fun or merriment, +but always keeping a sly look-out for a proposal or a tender +acknowledgment, which—what between the heat of a ball-room, whiskey +negus, white satin shoes, and a quarrel with your guardian—it’s ten +to one you fall into before you’re a week in the same town with them. +</p> +<p> +“As for the men, I don’t admire them so much: pleasant and cheerful enough +when they’re handicapping the coat off your back, and your new tilbury for +a spavined pony and a cotton umbrella, but regular devils if you come to +cross them the least in life; nothing but ten paces, three shots apiece, +to begin and end with something like Roger de Coverley, when every one has +a pull at his neighbor. I’m not saying they’re not agreeable, +well-informed, and mild in their habits; but they lean overmuch to +corduroys and coroners’ inquests for one’s taste farther south. However, +they’re a fine people, take them all in all; and if they were not +interfered with, and their national customs invaded with road-making, +petty-sessions, grand-jury laws, and a stray commission now and then, they +are capable of great things, and would astonish the world. +</p> +<p> +“But as I was saying, we were ordered to Loughrea after being fifteen +months in detachments about Birr, Tullamore, Kilbeggan, and all that +country; the change was indeed a delightful one, and we soon found +ourselves the centre of the most marked and determined civilities. I told +you they were wise people in the west; this was their calculation: the +line—ours was the Roscommon militia—are here to-day, there +to-morrow; they may be flirting in Tralee this week, and fighting on the +Tagus the next; not that there was any fighting there in those times, but +then there was always Nova Scotia and St. John’s, and a hundred other +places that a Galway young lady knew nothing about, except that people +never came back from them. Now, what good, what use was there in falling +in love with them? Mere transitory and passing pleasure that was. But as +for us: there we were; if not in Kilkenny we were in Cork. Safe out and +come again; no getting away under pretence of foreign service; no excuse +for not marrying by any cruel pictures of the colonies, where they make +spatch-cocks of the officers’ wives and scrape their infant families to +death with a small tooth-comb. In a word, my dear O’Mealey, we were at a +high premium; and even O’Shaughnessy, with his red head and the legs you +see, had his admirers. There now, don’t be angry, Dan; the men, at least, +were mighty partial to you. +</p> +<p> +“Loughrea, if it was a pleasant, was a very expensive place. White gloves +and car hire,—there wasn’t a chaise in the town,—short whist, +too (God forgive me if I wrong them, but I wonder were they honest), cost +money; and as our popularity rose, our purses fell; till at length, when +the one was at the flood, the other was something very like low water. +</p> +<p> +“Now, the Roscommon was a beautiful corps; no petty jealousies, no little +squabbling among the officers, no small spleen between the major’s wife +and the paymaster’s sister,—all was amiable, kind, brotherly, and +affectionate. To proceed, I need only mention one fine trait of them,—no +man ever refused to indorse a brother officer’s bill. To think of asking +the amount or even the date would be taken personally; and thus we went on +mutually aiding and assisting each other,—the colonel drawing on me, +I on the major, the senior captain on the surgeon, and so on, a regular +cross-fire of ‘promises to pay,’ all stamped and regular. +</p> +<p> +“Not but the system had its inconveniences; for sometimes an obstinate +tailor or bootmaker would make a row for his money, and then we’d be +obliged to get up a little quarrel between the drawer and the acceptor of +the bill; they couldn’t speak for some days, and a mutual friend to both +would tell the creditor that the slightest imprudence on his part would +lead to bloodshed; ‘and the Lord help him! if there was a duel, he’d be +proved the whole cause of it.’ This and twenty other plans were employed; +and finally, the matter would be left to arbitration among our brother +officers, and I need not say, they behaved like trumps. But +notwithstanding all this, we were frequently hard pressed for cash; as the +colonel said, ‘It’s a mighty expensive corps.’ Our dress was costly; not +that it had much lace and gold on it, but that, what between falling on +the road at night, shindies at mess, and other devilment, a coat lasted no +time. Wine, too, was heavy on us; for though we often changed our wine +merchant, and rarely paid him, there was an awful consumption at the mess! +</p> +<p> +“Now, what I have mentioned may prepare you for the fact that before we +were eight weeks in garrison, Shaugh and myself, upon an accurate +calculation of our conjoint finances, discovered that except some vague +promises of discounting here and there through the town, and seven and +fourpence in specie, we were innocent of any pecuniary treasures. This was +embarrassing; we had both embarked in several small schemes of pleasurable +amusement, had a couple of hunters each, a tandem, and a running account—I +think it <i>galloped</i>—at every shop in the town. +</p> +<p> +“Let me pause for a moment here, O’Mealey, while I moralize a little in a +strain I hope may benefit you. Have you ever considered—of course +you have not, you’re too young and unreflecting—how beautifully +every climate and every soil possesses some one antidote or another to its +own noxious influences? The tropics have their succulent and juicy fruits, +cooling and refreshing; the northern latitudes have their beasts with fur +and warm skin to keep out the frost-bites; and so it is in Ireland. +Nowhere on the face of the habitable globe does a man contract such habits +of small debt, and nowhere, I’ll be sworn, can he so easily get out of any +scrape concerning them. They have their tigers in the east, their +antelopes in the south, their white bears in Norway, their buffaloes in +America; but we have an animal in Ireland that beats them all hollow,—a +country attorney! +</p> +<p> +“Now, let me introduce you to Mr. Matthew Donevan. Mat, as he was +familiarly called by his numerous acquaintances, was a short, florid, rosy +little gentleman of some four or five-and-forty, with a well-curled wig of +the fairest imaginable auburn, the gentle wave of the front locks, which +played in infantine loveliness upon his little bullet forehead, +contrasting strongly enough with a cunning leer of his eye, and a certain +<i>nisi prius</i> laugh that however it might please a client, rarely +brought pleasurable feelings to his opponent in a cause. +</p> +<p> +“Mat was a character in his way; deep, double, and tricky in everything +that concerned his profession, he affected the gay fellow,—liked a +jolly dinner at Brown’s Hotel, would go twenty miles to see a +steeple-chase and a coursing match, bet with any one when the odds were +strong in his favor, with an easy indifference about money that made him +seem, when winning, rather the victim of good luck than anything else. As +he kept a rather pleasant bachelor’s house, and liked the military much, +we soon became acquainted. Upon him, therefore, for reasons I can’t +explain, both our hopes reposed; and Shaugh and myself at once agreed that +if Mat could not assist us in our distresses, the case was a bad one. +</p> +<p> +“A pretty little epistle was accordingly concocted, inviting the worthy +attorney to a small dinner at five o’clock the next day, intimating that +we were to be perfectly alone, and had a little business to discuss. True +to the hour, Mat was there; and as if instantly guessing that ours was no +regular party of pleasure, his look, dress, and manner were all in keeping +with the occasion,—quiet, subdued, and searching. +</p> +<p> +“When the claret had been superseded by the whiskey, and the confidential +hours were approaching, by an adroit allusion to some heavy wager then +pending, we brought our finances upon the <i>tapis</i>. The thing was done +beautifully,—an easy <i>adagio</i> movement, no violent transition; +but hang me if old Mat didn’t catch the matter at once. +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, it’s there ye are, Captain!’ said he, with his peculiar grin. +‘Two-and-sixpence in the pound, and no assets.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The last is nearer the mark, my old boy,’ said Shaugh, blurting out the +whole truth at once. The wily attorney finished his tumbler slowly, as if +giving himself time for reflection, and then, smacking his lips in a +preparatory manner, took a quick survey of the room with his piercing +green eye. +</p> +<p> +“‘A very sweet mare of yours that little mouse-colored one is, with the +dip in the back; and she has a trifling curb—may be it’s a spavin, +indeed—in the near hind-leg. You gave five-and-twenty for her, now, +I’ll be bound?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Sixty guineas, as sure as my name’s Dan,’ said Shaugh, not at all +pleased at the value put upon his hackney; ‘and as to spavin and curb, +I’ll wager double the sum she has neither the slightest trace of one nor +the other.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’ll not take the bet,’ said Mat, dryly. ‘Money’s scarce in these +parts.’ +</p> +<p> +“This hit silenced us both; and our friend continued,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Then there’s the bay horse,—a great strapping, leggy beast he is +for a tilbury; and the hunters, worth nothing here; they don’t know this +country. Them’s neat pistols; and the tilbury is not bad—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Confound you!’ said I, losing all patience; ‘we didn’t ask you here to +appraise our movables. We want to raise the wind without that.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I see, I perceive,’ said Mat, taking a pinch of snuff very leisurely as +he spoke,—‘I see. Well, that is difficult, very difficult just now. +I’ve mortgaged every acre of ground in the two counties near us, and a +sixpence more is not to be had that way. Are you lucky at the races?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Never win a sixpence.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What can you do at whist?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Revoke, and get cursed by my partner; devil a more!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘That’s mighty bad, for otherwise, we might arrange something for you. +Well, I only see one thing for it; you must marry. A wife with some money +will get you out of your present difficulties; and we’ll manage that +easily enough.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Come, Dan,’ said I, for Shaugh was dropping asleep; ‘cheer up, old +fellow. Donevan has found the way to pull us through our misfortunes. A +girl with forty thousand pounds, the best cock shooting in Ireland, an old +family, a capital cellar, all await ye,—rouse up, there!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m convanient,’ said Shaugh, with a look intended to be knowing, but +really very tipsy. +</p> +<p> +“‘I didn’t say much for her personal attractions, Captain,’ said Mat; +‘nor, indeed, did I specify the exact sum; but Mrs. Rogers Dooley, of +Clonakilty, might be a princess—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And so she shall be, Mat; the O’Shaughnessys were Kings of Ennis in the +time of Nero and I’m only waiting for a trifle of money to revive the +title. What’s her name?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Mrs. Rogers Dooley.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Here’s her health, and long life to her,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘And may the Devil cut the toes +Of all her foes, +That we may know them by their limping.’ +</pre> +<p> +“This benevolent wish uttered, Dan fell flat upon the hearth-rug, and was +soon sound asleep. I must hasten on; so need only say that, before we +parted that night, Mat and myself had finished the half-gallon bottle of +Loughrea whiskey, and concluded a treaty for the hand and fortune of Mrs. +Rogers Dooley. He being guaranteed a very handsome percentage on the +property, and the lady being reserved for choice between Dan and myself, +which, however, I was determined should fall upon my more fortunate +friend. +</p> +<p> +“The first object which presented itself to my aching senses the following +morning was a very spacious card of invitation from Mr. Jonas Malone, +requesting me to favor him with the seductions of my society the next +evening to a ball; at the bottom of which, in Mr. Donevan’s hand, I read,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Don’t fail; you know who is to be there. I’ve not been idle since I saw +you. Would the captain take twenty-five for the mare?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘So far so good,’ thought I, as entering O’Shaughnessy’s quarters, I +discovered him endeavoring to spell out his card, which, however, had no +postscript. We soon agreed that Mat should have his price; so sending a +polite answer to the invitation, we despatched a still more civil note to +the attorney, and begged of him, as a weak mark of esteem, to accept the +mouse-colored mare as a present.” +</p> +<p> +Here O’Shaughnessy sighed deeply, and even seemed affected by the +souvenir. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Dan, we did it all for the best. Oh, O’Mealey, he was a cunning +fellow; but no matter. We went to the ball, and to be sure, it was a great +sight. Two hundred and fifty souls, where there was not good room for the +odd fifty; such laughing, such squeezing, such pressing of hands and +waists in the staircase, and then such a row and riot at the top,—four +fiddles, a key bugle, and a bagpipe, playing ‘Haste to the wedding,’ +amidst the crash of refreshment-trays, the tramp of feet, and the sounds +of merriment on all sides! +</p> +<p> +“It’s only in Ireland, after all, people have fun. Old and young, merry +and morose, the gay and cross-grained, are crammed into a lively +country-dance; and ill-matched, ill-suited, go jigging away together to +the blast of a bad band, till their heads, half turned by the noise, the +heat, the novelty, and the hubbub, they all get as tipsy as if they were +really deep in liquor. +</p> +<p> +“Then there is that particularly free-and-easy tone in every one about. +Here go a couple capering daintily out of the ball-room to take a little +fresh air on the stairs, where every step has its own separate flirtation +party; there, a riotous old gentleman, with a boarding-school girl for his +partner, has plunged smack into a party at loo, upsetting cards and +counters, and drawing down curses innumerable. Here are a merry knot round +the refreshments, and well they may be; for the negus is strong punch, and +the biscuit is tipsy cake,—and all this with a running fire of good +stories, jokes, and witticisms on all sides, in the laughter for which +even the droll-looking servants join as heartily as the rest. +</p> +<p> +“We were not long in finding out Mrs. Rogers, who sat in the middle of a +very high sofa, with her feet just touching the floor. She was short, fat, +wore her hair in a crop, had a species of shining yellow skin, and a +turned-up nose, all of which were by no means prepossessing. Shaugh and +myself were too hard-up to be particular, and so we invited her to dance +alternately for two consecutive hours, plying her assiduously with negus +during the lulls in the music. +</p> +<p> +“Supper was at last announced, and enabled us to recruit for new efforts; +and so after an awful consumption of fowl, pigeon-pie, ham, and brandy +cherries, Mrs. Rogers brightened up considerably, and professed her +willingness to join the dancers. As for us, partly from exhaustion, partly +to stimulate our energies, and in some degree to drown reflection, we +drank deep, and when we reached the drawing-room, not only the agreeable +guests themselves, but even the furniture, the venerable chairs, and the +stiff old sofa seemed performing ‘Sir Roger de Coverley.’ How we conducted +ourselves till five in the morning, let our cramps confess; for we were +both bed-ridden for ten days after. However, at last Mrs. Rogers gave in, +and reclining gracefully upon a window-seat, pronounced it a most elegant +party, and asked me to look for her shawl. While I perambulated the +staircase with her bonnet on my head, and more wearing apparel than would +stock a magazine, Shaugh was roaring himself hoarse in the street, calling +Mrs. Rogers’ coach. +</p> +<p> +“‘Sure, Captain,’ said the lady, with a tender leer, ‘it’s only a chair.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And here it is,’ said I, surveying a very portly-looking old sedan, +newly painted and varnished, that blocked up half the hall. +</p> +<p> +“‘You’ll catch cold, my angel,’ said Shaugh, in a whisper, for he was +coming it very strong by this; ‘get into the chair. Maurice, can’t you +find those fellows?’ said he to me, for the chairmen had gone down-stairs, +and were making very merry among the servants. +</p> +<p> +“‘She’s fast now,’ said I, shutting the door to. ‘Let us do the gallant +thing, and carry her home ourselves.’ Shaugh thought this a great notion; +and in a minute we mounted the poles and sallied forth, amidst a great +chorus of laughing from all the footmen, maids, and teaboys that filled +the passage. +</p> +<p> +“‘The big house, with the bow-window and the pillars, Captain,’ said a +fellow, as we issued upon our journey. “‘I know it,’ said I. ‘Turn to the +left after you pass the square.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Isn’t she heavy?’ said Shaugh, as he meandered across the narrow streets +with a sidelong motion that must have suggested to our fair inside +passenger some notions of a sea voyage. In truth, I must confess our +progress was rather a devious one,—now zig-zagging from side to +side, now getting into a sharp trot, and then suddenly pulling up at a +dead stop, or running the machine chuck against a wall, to enable us to +stand still and gain breath. +</p> +<p> +“‘Which way now?’ cried he, as we swung round the angle of a street and +entered the large market-place; ‘I’m getting terribly tired.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Never give in, Dan. Think of Clonakilty and the old lady herself.’ Here +I gave the chair a hoist that evidently astonished our fair friend, for a +very imploring cry issued forth immediately after. +</p> +<p> +“‘To the right, quick-step, forward, charge!’ cried I; and we set off at a +brisk trot down a steep narrow lane. +</p> +<p> +“‘Here it is now,—the light in the window. Cheer up.’ +</p> +<p> +“As I said this we came short up to a fine, portly-looking doorway, with +great stone pillars and cornice. +</p> +<p> +“‘Make yourself at home, Maurice,’ said he; ‘bring her in.’ So saying, we +pushed forward—for the door was open—and passed boldly into a +great flagged hall, silent and cold, and dark as the night itself. +</p> +<p> +“‘Are you sure we’re right?’ said he. +</p> +<p> +“‘All right,’ said I; ‘go ahead.’ +</p> +<p> +“And so we did, till we came in sight of a small candle that burned dimly +at a distance from us. +</p> +<p> +“‘Make for the light,’ said I; but just as I said so Shaugh slipped and +fell flat on the flagway. The noise of his fall sent up a hundred echoes +in the silent building, and terrified us both dreadfully. After a minute’s +pause, by one consent we turned and made for the door, falling almost at +every step, and frightened out of our senses, we came tumbling together +into the porch, and out in the street, and never drew breath till we +reached the barracks. Meanwhile let me return to Mrs. Rogers. The dear old +lady, who had passed an awful time since she left the ball, had just +rallied out of a fainting fit when we took to our heels; so after +screaming and crying her best, she at last managed to open the top of the +chair, and by dint of great exertions succeeded in forcing the door, and +at length freed herself from bondage. She was leisurely groping her way +round it in the dark, when her lamentations, being heard without, woke up +the old sexton of the chapel,—for it was there we placed her,—who, +entering cautiously with a light, no sooner caught a glimpse of the great +black sedan and the figure beside it than he also took to his heels, and +ran like a madman to the priest’s house. +</p> +<p> +“‘Come, your reverence, come, for the love of marcy! Sure didn’t I see him +myself! Oh, wirra, wirra!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What is it, ye ould fool?’ said M’Kenny. +</p> +<p> +“‘It’s Father Con Doran, your reverence, that was buried last week, and +there he is up now, coffin and all, saying a midnight Mass as lively as +ever.’ +</p> +<p> +“Poor Mrs. Rogers, God help her! It was a trying sight for her when the +priest and the two coadjutors and three little boys and the sexton all +came in to lay her spirit; and the shock she received that night, they +say, she never got over. +</p> +<p> +“Need I say, my dear O’Mealey, that our acquaintance with Mrs. Rogers was +closed? The dear woman had a hard struggle for it afterwards. Her +character was assailed by all the elderly ladies in Loughrea for going off +in our company, and her blue satin, piped with scarlet, utterly ruined by +a deluge of holy water bestowed on her by the pious sexton. It was in vain +that she originated twenty different reports to mystify the world; and +even ten pounds spent in Masses for the eternal repose of Father Con Doran +only increased the laughter this unfortunate affair gave rise to. As for +us, we exchanged into the line, and foreign service took us out of the +road of duns, debts, and devilment, and we soon reformed, and eschewed +such low company.” +</p> +<p> +The day was breaking ere we separated; and amidst the rich and fragrant +vapors that exhaled from the earth, the faint traces of sunlight dimly +stealing told of the morning. My two friends set out for Torrijos, and I +pushed boldly forward in the direction of the Alberche. +</p> +<p> +It was a strange thing that although but two days before the roads we were +then travelling had been the line of retreat of the whole French army, not +a vestige of their equipment nor a trace of their <i>matériel</i> had been +left behind. In vain we searched each thicket by the wayside for some +straggling soldier, some wounded or wearied man; nothing of the kind was +to be seen. Except the deeply-rutted road, torn by the heavy wheels of the +artillery, and the white ashes of a wood fire, nothing marked their +progress. +</p> +<p> +Our journey was a lonely one. Not a man was to be met with. The houses +stood untenanted; the doors lay open; no smoke wreathed from their +deserted hearths. The peasantry had taken to the mountains; and although +the plains were yellow with the ripe harvest, and the peaches hung +temptingly upon the trees, all was deserted and forsaken. I had often seen +the blackened walls and broken rafters, the traces of the wild revenge and +reckless pillage of a retiring army. The ruined castle and the desecrated +altar are sad things to look upon; but, somehow, a far heavier depression +sunk into my heart as my eye ranged over the wide valleys and broad hills, +all redolent of comfort, of beauty, and of happiness, and yet not one man +to say, “This is my home; these are my household gods.” The birds carolled +gayly in each leafy thicket; the bright stream sung merrily as it rippled +through the rocks; the tall corn, gently stirred by the breeze, seemed to +swell the concert of sweet sounds; but no human voice awoke the echoes +there. It was as if the earth was speaking in thankfulness to its Maker, +while man,—ungrateful and unworthy man,—pursuing his ruthless +path of devastation and destruction, had left no being to say, “I thank +Thee for all these.” +</p> +<p> +The day was closing as we drew near the Alberche, and came in sight of the +watch-fires of the enemy. Far as the eye could reach their column +extended, but in the dim twilight nothing could be seen with accuracy; yet +from the position their artillery occupied, and the unceasing din of +baggage wagons and heavy carriages towards the rear, I came to the +conclusion that a still farther retreat was meditated. A picket of light +cavalry was posted upon the river’s bank, and seemed to watch with +vigilance the approaches to the stream. +</p> +<p> +Our bivouac was a dense copse of pine-trees, exactly opposite to the +French advanced posts, and there we passed the night,—fortunately a +calm and starlight one; for we dared not light fires, fearful of +attracting attention. +</p> +<p> +During the long hours I lay patiently watching the movements of the enemy +till the dark shadows hid all from sight; and even then, as my ears caught +the challenge of a sentry or the footsteps of some officer in his round, +my thoughts were riveted upon them, and a hundred vague fancies as to the +future were based upon no stronger foundation than the clink of a firelock +or the low-muttered song of a patrol. +</p> +<p> +Towards morning I slept; and when day broke my first glance was towards +the river-side. But the French were gone, noiselessly, rapidly. Like one +man that vast army had departed, and a dense column of dust towards the +horizon alone marked the long line of march where the martial legions were +retreating. +</p> +<p> +My mission was thus ended; and hastily partaking of the humble breakfast +my friend Mike provided for me, I once more set out and took the road +towards headquarters. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II. +</h2> +<p> +THE SKIRMISH. +</p> +<p> +For several months after the battle of Talavera my life presented nothing +which I feel worth recording. Our good fortune seemed to have deserted us +when our hopes were highest; for from the day of that splendid victory we +began our retrograde movement upon Portugal. Pressed hard by overwhelming +masses of the enemy, we saw the fortresses of Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida +fall successively into their hands. The Spaniards were defeated wherever +they ventured upon a battle; and our own troops, thinned by sickness and +desertion, presented but a shadow of that brilliant army which only a few +months previous had followed the retiring French beyond the frontiers of +Portugal. +</p> +<p> +However willing I now am—and who is not—to recognize the +genius and foresight of that great man who then held the destinies of the +Peninsula within his hands, I confess at the time I speak of I could ill +comprehend and still less feel contented with the successive retreats our +forces made; and while the words Torres Vedras brought nothing to my mind +but the last resting-place before embarkation, the sad fortunes of Corunna +were now before me, and it was with a gloomy and desponding spirit I +followed the routine of my daily duty. +</p> +<p> +During these weary months, if my life was devoid of stirring interest or +adventure, it was not profitless. Constantly employed at the outposts, I +became thoroughly inured to all the roughing of a soldier’s life, and +learned in the best of schools that tacit obedience which alone can form +the subordinate or ultimately fit its possessor for command himself. +</p> +<p> +Humble and unobtrusive as such a career must ever be, it was not without +its occasional rewards. From General Crawfurd I more than once obtained +most kind mention in his despatches, and felt that I was not unknown or +unnoticed by Sir Arthur Wellesley himself. At that time these testimonies, +slight and passing as they were, contributed to the pride and glory of my +existence; and even now—shall I confess it?—when some gray +hairs are mingling with the brown, and when my old dragoon swagger is +taming down into a kind of half-pay shamble, I feel my heart warm at the +recollection of them. +</p> +<p> +Be it so; I care not who smiles at the avowal. I know of little better +worth remembering as we grow old than what pleased us while we were young. +With the memory of the kind words once spoken come back the still kinder +looks of those who spoke them, and better than all, that early feeling of +budding manhood, when there was neither fear nor distrust. Alas! these are +the things, and not weak eyes and tottering limbs, which form the burden +of old age. Oh, if we could only go on believing, go on trusting, go on +hoping to the last, who would shed tears for the bygone feats of his +youthful days, when the spirit that evoked them lived young and vivid as +before? +</p> +<p> +But to my story. While Ciudad Rodrigo still held out against the besieging +French,—its battered walls and breached ramparts sadly foretelling +the fate inevitably impending,—we were ordered, together with the +16th Light Dragoons, to proceed to Gallegos, to reinforce Crawfurd’s +division, then forming a corps of observation upon Massena’s movements. +</p> +<p> +The position he occupied was a most commanding one,—the crown of a +long mountain ridge, studded with pine-copse and cork-trees, presenting +every facility for light-infantry movements; and here and there gently +sloping towards the plain, offering a field for cavalry manoeuvres. +Beneath, in the vast plain, were encamped the dark legions of France, +their heavy siege-artillery planted against the doomed fortress, while +clouds of their cavalry caracoled proudly before us, as if in taunting +sarcasm at our inactivity. +</p> +<p> +Every artifice which his natural cunning could suggest, every taunt a +Frenchman’s vocabulary contains, had been used by Massena to induce Sir +Arthur Wellesley to come to the assistance of the beleagured fortress: but +in vain. In vain he relaxed the energy of the siege, and affected +carelessness. In vain he asserted that the English were either afraid or +else traitors to their allies. The mind of him he thus assailed was +neither accessible to menace nor to sarcasm. Patiently abiding his time, +he watched the progress of events, and provided for that future which was +to crown his country’s arms with success and himself with undying glory. +</p> +<p> +Of a far different mettle was the general formed under whose orders we +were now placed. Hot, passionate, and impetuous, relying upon bold and +headlong heroism rather than upon cool judgment and well-matured plans, +Crawfurd felt in war all the asperity and bitterness of a personal +conflict. Ill brooking the insulting tone of the wily Frenchman, he +thirsted for any occasion of a battle, and his proud spirit chafed against +the colder counsels of his superior. +</p> +<p> +On the very morning we joined, the pickets brought in the intelligence +that the French patrols were nightly in the habit of visiting the villages +at the outposts and committing every species of cruel indignity upon the +wretched inhabitants. Fired at this daring insult, our general resolved to +cut them off, and formed two ambuscades for the purpose. +</p> +<p> +Six squadrons of the 14th were despatched to Villa del Puerco, three of +the 16th to Baguetto, while some companies of the 95th, and the caçadores, +supported by artillery, were ordered to hold themselves in reserve, for +the enemy were in force at no great distance from us. +</p> +<p> +The morning was just breaking as an aide-de-camp galloped up with the +intelligence that the French had been seen near the Villa del Puerco, a +body of infantry and some cavalry having crossed the plain, and +disappeared in that direction. While our colonel was forming us, with the +intention of getting between them and their main body, the tramp of horses +was heard in the wood behind, and in a few moments two officers rode up. +The foremost, who was a short, stoutly-built man of about forty, with a +bronzed face and eye of piercing black, shouted out as we wheeled into +column:— +</p> +<p> +“Halt, there! Why, where the devil are you going? That’s your ground!” So +saying, and pointing straight towards the village with his hand, he would +not listen to our colonel’s explanation that several stone fences and +enclosures would interfere with cavalry movements, but added, “Forward, I +say! Proceed!” +</p> +<p> +Unfortunately, the nature of the ground separated our squadron, as the +colonel anticipated; and although we came on at a topping pace, the French +had time to form in square upon a hill to await us, and when we charged, +they stood firmly, and firing with a low and steady aim, several of our +troopers fell. As we wheeled round, we found ourselves exactly in front of +their cavalry coming out of Baguilles; so dashing straight at them, we +revenged ourselves for our first repulse by capturing twenty-nine +prisoners, and wounding several others. +</p> +<p> +The French infantry were, however, still unbroken; and Colonel Talbot rode +boldly up with five squadrons of the 14th; but the charge, pressed home +with all its gallantry, failed also, and the colonel fell mortally +wounded, and fourteen of his troopers around him. Twice we rode round the +square, seeking for a weak point, but in vain; the gallant Frenchman who +commanded, Captain Guache, stood fearlessly amidst his brave followers, +and we could hear him, as he called out from time to time,— +</p> +<p> +“<i>C’est ça mes enfans! Trés bien fait, mes braves!</i>” +</p> +<p> +And at length they made good their retreat, while we returned to the camp, +leaving thirty-two troopers and our brave colonel dead upon the field in +this disastrous affair. +</p> +<p> +The repulse we had met with, so contrary to all our hopes and +expectations, made that a most gloomy day to all of us. The brave fellows +we had left behind us, the taunting cheer of the French infantry, the +unbroken ranks against which we rode time after time in vain, never left +our minds; and a sense of shame of what might be thought of us at +headquarters rendered the reflection still more painful. +</p> +<p> +Our bivouac, notwithstanding all our efforts, was a sad one, and when the +moon rose, some drops of heavy rain falling at intervals in the still, +unruffled air threatened a night of storm; gradually the sky grew darker +and darker, the clouds hung nearer to the earth, and a dense, thick mass +of dark mist shrouded every object. The heavy cannonade of the siege was +stilled; nothing betrayed that a vast army was encamped near us; their +bivouac fires were even imperceptible; and the only sound we heard was the +great bell of Ciudad Rodrigo as it struck the hour, and seemed, in the +mournful cadence of its chime, like the knell of the doomed citadel. +</p> +<p> +The patrol which I commanded had to visit on its rounds the most advanced +post of our position. This was a small farm-house, which, standing upon a +little rising ledge of ground, was separated from the French lines by a +little stream tributary to the Aguda. A party of the 14th were picketed +here, and beneath them in the valley, scarce five hundred yards distant, +was the detachment of cuirassiers which formed the French outpost. As we +neared our picket the deep voice of the sentry challenged us; and while +all else was silent as the grave, we could hear from the opposite side the +merry chorus of a French <i>chanson à boire</i>, with its clattering +accompaniment of glasses, as some gay companions were making merry +together. +</p> +<p> +Within the little hut which contained <i>our</i> fellows, the scene was a +different one. The three officers who commanded sat moodily over a +wretched fire of wet wood; a solitary candle dimly lighted the dismantled +room, where a table but ill-supplied with cheer stood unminded and uncared +for. +</p> +<p> +“Well, O’Malley,” cried Baker, as I came in, “what is the night about? And +what’s Crawfurd for next?” +</p> +<p> +“We hear,” cried another, “that he means to give battle to-morrow; but +surely Sir Arthur’s orders are positive enough. Gordon himself told me +that he was forbidden to fight beyond the Coa, but to retreat at the first +advance of the enemy.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m afraid,” replied I, “that retreating is his last thought just now. +Ammunition has just been served out, and I know the horse artillery have +orders to be in readiness by daybreak.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” said Hampden, with a half-bitter tone. “Nothing like going +through with it. If he is to be brought to court-martial for disobedience, +he’ll take good care we sha’n’t be there to see it.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, the French are fifty thousand strong!” said Baker. “Look there, what +does that mean, now? That’s a signal from the town.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke a rocket of great brilliancy shot up into the sky, and +bursting at length fell in millions of red lustrous sparks on every side, +showing forth the tall fortress, and the encamped army around it, with all +the clearness of noonday. It was a most splendid sight; and though the +next moment all was dark as before, we gazed still fixedly into the gloomy +distance, straining our eyes to observe what was hid from our view +forever. +</p> +<p> +“That must be a signal,” repeated Baker. +</p> +<p> +“Begad! if Crawfurd sees it he’ll interpret it as a reason for fighting. I +trust he’s asleep by this time,” said Hampden. “By-the-bye, O’Malley, did +you see the fellows at work in the trenches? How beautifully clear it was +towards the southward!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I remarked that! and what surprised me was the openness of their +position in that direction. Towards the San Benito mole I could not see a +man.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, they’ll not attack on that side; but if we really are—” +</p> +<p> +“Stay, Hampden!” said I, interrupting him, “a thought has just struck me. +At sunset, I saw, through my telescope, the French engineers marking with +their white tape the line of a new entrenchment in that quarter. Would it +not be a glorious thing to move the tape, and bring the fellows under the +fire of San Benito?” +</p> +<p> +“By Jove, O’Malley, that is a thought worth a troop to you!” +</p> +<p> +“Far more likely to forward his promotion in the next world than in this,” +said Baker, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“By no means,” added I. “I marked the ground this evening, and have it +perfectly in my mind. If we were to follow the bend of the river, I’ll be +bound to come right upon the spot; by nearing the fortress we’ll escape +the sentries; and all this portion is open to us.” +</p> +<p> +The project thus loosely thrown out was now discussed in all its bearings. +Whatever difficulties it presented were combated so much to our own +satisfaction, that at last its very facility damped our ardor. Meanwhile +the night wore on, and the storm of rain so long impending began to +descend in very torrents; hissing along the parched ground, it rose in a +mist, while overhead the heavy thunder rolled in long unbroken peals; the +crazy door threatened to give way at each moment, and the whole building +trembled to its foundation. +</p> +<p> +“Pass the brandy down here, Hampden, and thank your stars you’re where you +are. Eh, O’Malley? You’ll defer your trip to San Benito for finer +weather.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, to come to the point,” said Hampden, “I’d rather begin my +engineering at a more favorable season; but if O’Malley’s for it—” +</p> +<p> +“And O’Malley <i>is</i> for it,” said I, suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“Then faith, I’m not the man to balk his fancy; and as Crawfurd is so bent +upon fighting to-morrow, it don’t make much difference. Is it a bargain?” +</p> +<p> +“It is; here’s my hand on it.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, boys, I’ll have none of this; we’ve been prettily cut up this +morning already. You shall not go upon this foolish excursion.” +</p> +<p> +“Confound it, old fellow! it’s all very well for you to talk, with the +majority before you, next step; but here we are, if peace came to-morrow, +scarcely better than we left England. No, no; if O’Malley’s ready—and +I see he is so before me—What have you got there? Oh, I see; that’s +our tape line; capital fun, by George! The worst of it is, they’ll make us +colonels of engineers. Now then, what’s your plan—on foot or +mounted?” +</p> +<p> +“Mounted, and for this reason, the country is all open; if we are to have +a run for it, our thoroughbreds ought to distance them; and as we must +expect to pass some of their sentries, our only chance is on horseback.” +</p> +<p> +“My mind is relieved of a great load,” said Hampden; “I was trembling in +my skin lest you should make it a walking party. I’ll do anything you like +in the saddle, from robbing the mail to cutting out a frigate; but I never +was much of a foot-pad.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Mike,” said I, as I returned to the room with my trusty follower, +“are the cattle to be depended on?” +</p> +<p> +“If we had a snaffle in Malachi Daly’s mouth [my brown horse], I’d be +afeared of nothing, sir; but if it comes to fencing, with that cruel bit,—but +sure, you’ve a light hand, and let him have his head, if it’s wall.” +</p> +<p> +“By Jove, he thinks it a fox-chase!” said Hampden. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it the same, sir?” said Mike, with a seriousness that made the +whole party smile. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I hope we shall not be earthed, any way,” said I. “Now, the next +thing is, who has a lantern? Ah! the very thing; nothing better. Look to +your pistols, Hampden; and Mike, here’s a glass of grog for you; we’ll +want you. And now, one bumper for good luck. Eh, Baker, won’t you pledge +us?” +</p> +<p> +“And spare a little for me,” said Hampden. “How it does rain! If one +didn’t expect to be water-proofed before morning, one really wouldn’t go +out in such weather.” +</p> +<p> +While I busied myself in arranging my few preparations, Hampden proceeded +gravely to inform Mike that we were going to the assistance of the +besieged fortress, which could not possibly go on without us. +</p> +<p> +“Tare and ages!” said Mike, “that’s mighty quare; and the blue rocket was +a letter of invitation, I suppose?” +</p> +<p> +“Exactly,” said Hampden; “and you see there’s no ceremony between us. +We’ll just drop in, in the evening, in a friendly way.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, upon my conscience, I’d wait, if I was you, till the family +wasn’t in confusion. They have enough on their hands just now.” +</p> +<p> +“So you’ll not be persuaded?” said Baker. “Well, I frankly tell you, that +come what will of it, as your senior officer I’ll report you to-morrow. +I’ll not risk myself for any such hair-brained expeditions.” +</p> +<p> +“A mighty pleasant look-out for me,” said Mike; “if I’m not shot to-night, +I may be flogged in the morning.” +</p> +<p> +This speech once more threw us into a hearty fit of laughter, amidst which +we took leave of our friends, and set forth upon our way. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III. +</h2> +<p> +THE LINES OF CIUDAD RODRIGO. +</p> +<p> +The small, twinkling lights which shone from the ramparts of Ciudad +Rodrigo were our only guide, as we issued forth upon our perilous +expedition. The storm raged, if possible, even more violently than before, +and gusts of wind swept along the ground with the force of a hurricane; so +that at first, our horses could scarcely face the tempest. Our path lay +along the little stream for a considerable way; after which, fording the +rivulet, we entered upon the open plain, taking care to avoid the French +outpost on the extreme left, which was marked by a bivouac fire, burning +under the heavy downpour of rain, and looking larger through the dim +atmosphere around it. +</p> +<p> +I rode foremost, followed closely by Hampden and Mike; not a word was +spoken after we crossed the stream. Our plan was, if challenged by a +patrol, to reply in French and press on; so small a party could never +suggest the idea of attack, and we hoped in this manner to escape. +</p> +<p> +The violence of the storm was such that many of our precautions as to +silence were quite unnecessary; and we had advanced to a considerable +extent into the plain before any appearance of the encampment struck us. +At length, on mounting a little rising ground, we perceived several fires +stretching far away to the northward; while still to our left, there +blazed one larger and brighter than the others. We now found that we had +not outflanked their position as we intended, and learning from the +situation of the fires, that we were still only at the outposts, we +pressed sharply forward, directing our course by the twin stars that shone +from the fortress. +</p> +<p> +“How heavy the ground is here!” whispered Hampden, as our horses sunk +above the fetlocks. “We had better stretch away to the right; the rise of +the hill will favor us.” +</p> +<p> +“Hark!” said I; “did you not hear something? Pull up,—silence now. +Yes, there they come. It’s a patrol; I hear their tramp.” As I spoke, the +measured tread of infantry was heard above the storm, and soon after a +lantern was seen coming along the causeway near us. The column passed +within a few yards of where we stood. I could even recognize the black +covering of the shakos as the light fell on them. “Let us follow them,” +whispered I; and the next moment we fell in upon their track, holding our +cattle well in hand, and ready to start at a moment. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Qui va là ?</i>” a sentry demanded. +</p> +<p> +“<i>La deuxième division</i>,” cried a hoarse voice. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Halte là ! la consigne?</i>” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Wagram!</i>” repeated the same voice as before, while his party +resumed their march; and the next moment the patrol was again upon his +post, silent and motionless as before. +</p> +<p> +“<i>En avant, Messieurs!</i>” said I, aloud, as soon as the infantry had +proceeded some distance,—“<i>en avant!</i>” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Qui va là ?</i>” demanded the sentry, as we came along at a sharp trot. +</p> +<p> +“<i>L’état-major, Wagram!</i>” responded I, pressing on without drawing +rein; and in a moment we had regained our former position behind the +infantry. We had scarcely time to congratulate ourselves upon the success +of our scheme, when a tremendous clattering noise in front, mingled with +the galloping of horses and the cracking of whips, announced the approach +of the artillery as they came along by a narrow road which bisected our +path; and as they passed between us and the column, we could hear the +muttered sentences of the drivers, cursing the unseasonable time for an +attack, and swearing at their cattle in no measured tones. +</p> +<p> +“Did you hear that?” whispered Hampden; “the battery is about to be +directed against the San Benito, which must be far away to the left. I +heard one of the troop saying that they were to open their fire at +daybreak.” +</p> +<p> +“All right, now,” said I; “look there!” +</p> +<p> +From the hill we now stood upon a range of lanterns was distinctly +visible, stretching away for nearly half a mile. +</p> +<p> +“There are the trenches; they must be at work, too. See how the lights are +moving from place to place! Straight now. Forward!” +</p> +<p> +So saying, I pressed my horse boldly on. +</p> +<p> +We had not proceeded many minutes when the sounds of galloping were heard +coming along behind us. +</p> +<p> +“To the right, in the hollow,” cried I. “Be still.” +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had we moved off when several horsemen galloped up, and drawing +their reins to breathe their horses up the hill, we could hear their +voices as they conversed together. +</p> +<p> +In the few broken words we could catch, we guessed that the attack upon +San Benito was only a feint to induce Crawfurd to hold his position, while +the French, marching upon his flank and front, were to attack him with +overwhelming masses and crush him. +</p> +<p> +“You hear what’s in store for us, O’Malley?” whispered Hampden. “I think +we could not possibly do better than hasten back with the intelligence.” +</p> +<p> +“We must not forget what we came for, first,” said I; and the next moment +we were following the horsemen, who from their helmets seemed to be +horse-artillery officers. +</p> +<p> +The pace our guides rode at showed us that they knew their ground. We +passed several sentries, muttering something at each time, and seeming as +if only anxious to keep up with our party. +</p> +<p> +“They’ve halted,” said I. “Now to the left there; gently here, for we must +be in the midst of their lines. Ha! I knew we were right. See there!” +</p> +<p> +Before us, now, at a few hundred yards, we could perceive a number of men +engaged upon the field. Lights were moving from place to place rapidly, +while immediately in front a strong picket of cavalry were halted. +</p> +<p> +“By Jove! there’s sharp work of it to-night,” whispered Hampden. “They do +intend to surprise us to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“Gently now, to the left,” said I, as cautiously skirting the little hill, +I kept my eye firmly fixed upon the watch-fire. +</p> +<p> +The storm, which for some time had abated considerably, was now nearly +quelled, and the moon again peeped forth amidst masses of black and watery +clouds. +</p> +<p> +“What good fortune for us!” thought I, at this moment, as I surveyed the +plain before me. +</p> +<p> +“I say, O’Malley, what are those fellows at yonder, where the blue light +is burning?” +</p> +<p> +“Ah! the very people we want; these are the sappers. Now for it; that’s +our ground. We’ll soon come upon their track now.” +</p> +<p> +We pressed rapidly forward, passing an infantry party as we went. The blue +light was scarcely a hundred yards off; we could even hear the shouting of +the officers to their men in the trenches, when suddenly my horse came +down upon his head, and rolling over, crushed me to the earth. +</p> +<p> +“Not hurt, my boy,” cried I, in a subdued tone, as Hampden jumped down +beside me. +</p> +<p> +It was the angle of a trench I had fallen into; and though both my horse +and myself felt stunned for the moment, we rallied the next minute. +</p> +<p> +“Here is the very spot,” said I. “Now, Mike, catch the bridles and follow +us closely.” +</p> +<p> +Guiding ourselves along the edge of the trench, we crept stealthily +forward; the only watch-fire near was where the engineer party was halted, +and our object was to get outside of this. +</p> +<p> +“My turn this time,” said Hampden, as he tripped suddenly, and fell head +foremost upon the grass. +</p> +<p> +As I assisted him to rise, something caught my ankle, and on stooping I +found it was a cord pegged fast into the ground, and lying only a few +inches above it. +</p> +<p> +“Now, steady! See here; this is their working line. Pass your hand along +it there, and let us follow it out.” +</p> +<p> +While Hampden accordingly crept along on one side, I tracked the cord upon +the other. Here I found it terminating upon a small mound, where probably +some battery was to be erected. I accordingly gathered it carefully up, +and was returning towards my friend, when what was my horror to hear +Mike’s voice, conversing, as it seemed to me, with some one in French. +</p> +<p> +I stood fixed to the spot, my very heart beating almost in my mouth as I +listened. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Qui êtes-vous done, mon ami?</i>” inquired a hoarse, deep voice, a few +yards off. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Bon cheval, non</i> beast, <i>sacré nom de Dieu!</i>” A hearty burst +of laughter prevented my hearing the conclusion of Mike’s French. +</p> +<p> +I now crept forward upon my hands and knees, till I could catch the dark +outline of the horses, one hand fixed upon my pistol trigger, and my sword +drawn in the other. Meanwhile the dialogue continued. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Vous êtes d’Alsace, n’est-ce-pas?</i>” asked the Frenchman, kindly +supposing that Mike’s French savored of Strasburg. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, blessed Virgin! av I might shoot him,” was the muttered reply. +</p> +<p> +Before I had time to see the effect of the last speech, I pressed forward +with a bold spring, and felled the Frenchman to the earth. My hand had +scarcely pressed upon his mouth, when Hampden was beside me. Snatching up +the pistol I let fall, he held it to the man’s chest and commanded him to +be silent. To unfasten his girdle and bind the Frenchman’s hands behind +him, was the work of a moment; and as the sharp click of the pistol-cock +seemed to calm his efforts to escape, we soon succeeded in fastening a +handkerchief tight across his mouth, and the next minute he was placed +behind Mike’s saddle, firmly attached to this worthy individual by his +sword-belt. +</p> +<p> +“Now, a clear run home for it, and a fair start,” said Hampden, as he +sprang into the saddle. +</p> +<p> +“Now, then, for it,” I replied, as turning my horse’s head towards our +lines, I dashed madly forward. +</p> +<p> +The moon was again obscured, but still the dark outline of the hill which +formed our encampment was discernible on the horizon. Riding side by side, +on we hurried,—now splashing through the deep wet marshes, now +plunging through small streams. Our horses were high in mettle, and we +spared them not. By taking a wide <i>détour</i> we had outflanked the +French pickets, and were almost out of all risk, when suddenly on coming +to the verge of rather a steep hill, we perceived beneath us a strong +cavalry picket standing around a watch-fire; their horses were ready +saddled, the men accoutred, and quite prepared for the field. While we +conversed together in whispers as to the course to follow, our +deliberations were very rapidly cut short. The French prisoner, who +hitherto had given neither trouble nor resistance, had managed to free his +mouth from the encumbrance of the handkerchief; and as we stood quietly +discussing our plans, with one tremendous effort he endeavored to hurl +himself and Mike from the saddle, shouting out as he did so,— +</p> +<p> +“<i>A moi camarades! à moi!</i>” +</p> +<p> +Hampden’s pistol leaped from the holster as he spoke, and levelling it +with a deadly aim, he pulled the trigger; but I threw up his arm, and the +ball passed high above his head. To have killed the Frenchman would have +been to lose my faithful follower, who struggled manfully with his +adversary, and at length by throwing himself flatly forward upon the mane +of his horse, completely disabled him. Meanwhile the picket had sprung to +their saddles, and looked wildly about on every side. +</p> +<p> +Not a moment was to be lost; so turning our horses’ heads towards the +plain, away we went. One loud cheer announced to us that we had been seen, +and the next instant the clash of the pursuing cavalry was heard behind +us. It was now entirely a question of speed, and little need we have +feared had Mike’s horse not been doubly weighted. However, as we still had +considerably the start, and the gray dawn of day enabled us to see the +ground, the odds were in our favor. “Never let your horse’s head go,” was +my often repeated direction to Mike, as he spurred with all the +desperation of madness. Already the low meadow-land was in sight which +flanked the stream we had crossed in the morning, but unfortunately the +heavy rains had swollen it now to a considerable depth, and the muddy +current, choked with branches of trees and great stones, was hurrying down +like a torrent. “Take the river! never flinch it!” was my cry to my +companions, as I turned my head and saw a French dragoon, followed by two +others, gaining rapidly upon us. As I spoke, Mike dashed in, followed by +Hampden, and the same moment the sharp ring of a carbine whizzed past me. +To take off the pursuit from the others, I now wheeled my horse suddenly +round, as if I feared to take the stream, and dashed along by the river’s +bank. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0034.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="A Flying Shot. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +Beneath me in the foaming current the two horsemen labored,—now +stemming the rush of water, now reeling almost beneath. A sharp cry burst +from Mike as I looked, and I saw the poor fellow bend nearly to his +saddle. I could see no more, for the chase was now hot upon myself. Behind +me rode a French dragoon, his carbine pressed tightly to his side, ready +to fire as he pressed on in pursuit. I had but one chance; so drawing my +pistol I wheeled suddenly in my saddle, and fired straight at him. The +Frenchman fell, while a regular volley from his party rung around me, one +ball striking my horse, and another lodging in the pommel of my saddle. +The noble animal reeled nearly to the earth, but as if rallying for a last +effort, sprang forward with renewed energy, and plunged boldly into the +river. For a moment, so sudden was my leap, my pursuers lost sight of me; +but the bank being somewhat steep, the efforts of my horse to climb again +discovered me, and before I reached the field two pistol-balls took effect +upon me,—one slightly grazed my side, but my bridle-arm was broken +by the other, and my hand fell motionless to my side. A cheer of defiance +was, however, my reply, as I turned round in my saddle, and the next +moment I was far beyond the range of their fire. +</p> +<p> +Not a man durst follow, and the last sight I had of them was the +dismounted group who stood around their dead comrade. Before me rode +Hampden and Mike, still at top speed, and never turning their heads +backwards. I hastened after them; but my poor, wounded horse, nearly +hamstrung by the shot, became dead lame, and it was past daybreak ere I +reached the first outposts of our lines. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV. +</h2> +<p> +THE DOCTOR. +</p> +<p> +“And his wound? Is it a serious one?” said a round, full voice, as the +doctor left my room at the conclusion of his visit. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir; a fractured bone is the worst of it,—the bullet grazed, +but did not cut the artery, and as—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, how soon will he be about again?” +</p> +<p> +“In a few weeks, if no fever sets in.” +</p> +<p> +“There’s no objection to my seeing him?—a few minutes only,—I’ll +be cautious.” So saying, and as it seemed to me, without waiting for a +reply, the door was opened by an aide-de-camp, who, announcing General +Crawfurd, closed it again, and withdrew. +</p> +<p> +The first glance I threw upon the general enabled me to recognize the +officer who, on the previous morning, had ridden up to the picket and +given us the orders to charge. I essayed to rise a little as he came +forward; but he motioned me with his hand to lie still, while, placing a +chair close beside my bed, he sat down. +</p> +<p> +“Very sorry for your mishap, sir, but glad it is no worse. Moreton says +that nothing of consequence is injured; there, you mustn’t speak except I +ask you. Hampden has told me everything necessary; at least as far as he +knew. Is it your opinion, also, that any movement is in contemplation; and +from what circumstance?” +</p> +<p> +I immediately explained, and as briefly as I was able, the reasons for +suspecting such, with which he seemed quite satisfied. I detailed the +various changes in the positions of the troops that were taking place +during the night, the march of the artillery, and the strong bodies of +cavalry that were posted in reserve along the river. +</p> +<p> +“Very well, sir; they’ll not move; your prisoner, quartermaster of an +infantry battalion, says not, also. Yours was a bold stroke, but could not +possibly have been of service, and the best thing I can do for you is not +to mention it,—a court-martial’s but a poor recompense for a +gun-shot wound. Meanwhile, when this blows over, I’ll appoint you on my +personal staff. There, not a word, I beg; and now, good-by.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, and waving me an adieu with his hand, the gallant veteran +withdrew before I could express my gratitude for his kindness. +</p> +<p> +I had little time for reflecting over my past adventure, such numbers of +my brother officers poured in upon me. All the doctor’s cautions +respecting quietness and rest were disregarded, and a perfect levee sat +the entire morning in my bed-room. I was delighted to learn that Mike’s +wound, though painful at the moment, was of no consequence; and indeed +Hampden, who escaped both steel and shot, was the worst off among us,—his +plunge in the river having brought on an ague he had labored under years +before. +</p> +<p> +“The illustrious Maurice has been twice here this morning, but they +wouldn’t admit him. Your Scotch physician is afraid of his Irish <i>confrère</i>, +and they had a rare set-to about Galen and Hippocrates outside,” said +Baker. +</p> +<p> +“By-the-bye,” said another, “did you see how Sparks looked when Quill +joined us? Egad, I never saw a fellow in such a fright; he reddened up, +then grew pale, turned his back, and slunk away at the very first moment.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I remember it. We must find out the reason; for Maurice, depend upon +it, has been hoaxing the poor fellow.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, O’Malley,” growled out the senior major, “you certainly did give +Hampden a benefit. He’ll not trust himself in such company again; and +begad, he says, the man is as bad as the master. That fellow of yours +never let go his prisoner till he reached the quartermaster-general, and +they were both bathed in blood by that time.” +</p> +<p> +“Poor Mike! we must do something for him.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he’s as happy as a king! Maurice has been in to see him, and they’ve +had a long chat about Ireland, and all the national pastimes of whiskey +drinking and smashing skulls. My very temples ache at the recollection.” +</p> +<p> +“Is Mister O’Mealey at home?” said a very rich Cork accent, as the +well-known and most droll features of Dr. Maurice Quill appeared at the +door. +</p> +<p> +“Come in, Maurice,” said the major; “and for Heaven’s sake, behave +properly. The poor fellow must not have a row about his bedside.” +</p> +<p> +“A row, a row! Upon my conscience, it is little you know about a row, and +there’s worse things going than a row. Which leg is it?” +</p> +<p> +“It’s an arm, Doctor, I’m happy to say.” +</p> +<p> +“Not your punch hand, I hope. No; all’s right. A neat fellow you have for +a servant, that Mickey Free. I was asking him about a townsman of his own—one +Tim Delany,—the very cut of himself, the best servant I ever had. I +never could make out what became of him. Old Hobson of the 95th, gave him +to me, saying, ‘There he is for you, Maurice, and a bigger thief and a +greater blackguard there’s not in the 60th.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Strong words,’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“‘And true’ said he; ‘he’d steal your molar tooth while you were laughing +at him.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Let me have him, and try my hand on him, anyway. I’ve got no one just +now. Anything is better than nothing.’ +</p> +<p> +“Well I took Tim, and sending for him to my room I locked the door, and +sitting down gravely before him explained in a few words that I was quite +aware of his little propensities. +</p> +<p> +“‘Now,’ said I, ‘if you like to behave well, I’ll think you as honest as +the chief-justice; but if I catch you stealing, if it be only the value of +a brass snuff-box, I’ll have you flogged before the regiment as sure as my +name’s Maurice.’ +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I wish you heard the volley of protestations that fell from him fast +as hail. He was a calumniated man the world conspired to wrong him; he was +never a thief nor a rogue in his life. He had a weakness, he confessed, +for the ladies; but except that, he hoped he might die so thin that he +could shave himself with his shin-bone if he ever so much as took a pinch +of salt that wasn’t his own. +</p> +<p> +“However this might be, nothing could be better than the way Tim and I got +on together. Everything was in its place, nothing missing; and in fact, +for upwards of a year, I went on wondering when he was to show out in his +true colors, for hitherto he had been a phoenix. +</p> +<p> +“At last,—we were quartered in Limerick at the time,—every +morning used to bring accounts of all manner of petty thefts in the +barrack,—one fellow had lost his belt, another his shoes, a third +had three-and-sixpence in his pocket when he went to bed and woke without +a farthing, and so on. Everybody save myself was mulet of something. At +length some rumors of Tim’s former propensities got abroad; suspicion was +excited; my friend Delany was rigidly watched, and some very dubious +circumstances attached to the way he spent his evenings. +</p> +<p> +“My brother officers called upon me about the matter, and although nothing +had transpired like proof, I sent for Tim, and opened my mind on the +subject. +</p> +<p> +“You may talk of the look of conscious innocence, but I defy you to +conceive anything finer than the stare of offended honor Tim gave me as I +began. +</p> +<p> +“‘They say it’s me, Doctor,’ said he, ‘do they? And you,—you believe +them. You allow them to revile me that way? Well, well, the world is come +to a pretty pass, anyhow! Now, let me ask your honor a few questions? How +many shirts had yourself when I entered your service? Two, and one was +more like a fishing net! And how many have ye now? Eighteen; ay, eighteen +bran new cambrie ones,—devil a hole in one of them! How many pair of +stockings had you? Three and an odd one. You have two dozen this minute. +How many pocket handkerchiefs? One,—devil a more! You could only +blow your nose two days in the week, and now you may every hour of the +twenty-four! And as to the trilling articles of small value, snuff-boxes, +gloves, bootjacks, nightcaps, and—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Stop, Tim, that’s enough—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘No, sir, it is not,’ said Tim, drawing himself up to his full height; +‘you have wounded my feelings in a way I can’t forget. It is impossible we +can have that mutual respect our position demands. Farewell, farewell, +Doctor, and forever!’ +</p> +<p> +“Before I could say another word, the fellow had left the room, and closed +the door after him; and from that hour to this I never set eyes on him.” +</p> +<p> +In this vein did the worthy doctor run on till some more discreet friend +suggested that however well-intentioned the visit, I did not seem to be +fully equal to it,—my flushed cheek and anxious eye betraying that +the fever of my wound had commenced. They left me, therefore, once more +alone, and to my solitary musings over the vicissitudes of my fortune. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V. +</h2> +<p> +THE COA. +</p> +<p> +Within a week from the occurrence of the events just mentioned, Ciudad +Rodrigo surrendered, and Crawfurd assumed another position beneath the +walls of Almeida. The Spanish contingent having left us, we were +reinforced by the arrival of two battalions, renewed orders being sent not +to risk a battle, but if the French should advance, to retire beyond the +Coa. +</p> +<p> +On the evening of the 21st of July a strong body of French cavalry +advanced into the plain, supported by some heavy guns; upon which Crawfurd +retired upon the Coa, intending, as we supposed, to place that river +between himself and the enemy. Three days, however, passed over without +any movement upon either side, and we still continued, with a force of +scarcely four thousand infantry and a thousand dragoons, to stand opposite +to an army of nearly fifty thousand men. Such was our position as the +night of the 24th set in. I was sitting alone in my quarters. Mike, whose +wound had been severer than at first was supposed, had been sent to +Almeida, and I was musing in solitude upon the events of the campaign, +when the noise and bustle without excited my attention,—the roll of +artillery wagons, the clash of musketry, and the distant sounds of +marching, all proved that the troops were effecting some new movement, and +I burned with anxiety to learn what it was. My brother officers, however, +came not as usual to my quarters; and although I waited with impatience +while the hours rolled by, no one appeared. +</p> +<p> +Long, low moaning gusts of wind swept along the earth, carrying the leaves +as they tore them from the trees, and mingling their sad sounds with the +noises of the retiring troops; for I could perceive that gradually the +sounds grew more and more remote, and only now and then could I trace +their position as the roll of a distant drum swelled upon the breeze, or +the more shrill cry of a pibroch broke upon my ear. A heavy downpour of +rain followed soon after, and in its unceasing plash drowned all other +sounds. +</p> +<p> +As the little building shook beneath the peals of loud thunder, the +lightning flashed in broad sheets upon the rapid river, which, swollen and +foaming, dashed impetuously beside my window. By the uncertain but vivid +glare of the flashes, I endeavored to ascertain where our force was +posted, but in vain. Never did I witness such a night of storm,—the +deep booming of the thunder seeming never for a moment to cease, while the +rush of the torrent grew gradually louder, till at length it swelled into +one deep and sullen roar like that of distant artillery. +</p> +<p> +Weak and nervous as I felt from the effects of my wound, feverish and +exhausted by days of suffering and sleepless nights, I paced my little +room with tottering but impatient steps. The sense of my sad and +imprisoned state impressed me deeply; and while from time to time I +replenished my fire, and hoped to hear some friendly step upon the stair, +my heart grew gradually heavier, and every gloomy and depressing thought +suggested itself to my imagination. My most constant impression was that +the troops were retiring beyond the Coa, and that, forgotten in the haste +and confusion of a night march, I had been left behind to fall a prisoner +to the enemy. +</p> +<p> +The sounds of the troops retiring gradually farther and farther favored +the idea, in which I was still more strengthened on finding that the +peasants who inhabited the little hut had departed, leaving me utterly +alone. From the moment I ascertained this fact, my impatience knew no +bounds; and in proportion as I began to feel some exertion necessary on my +part, so much more did my nervousness increase my debility, and at last I +sank exhausted upon my bed, while a cold perspiration broke out upon my +temples. +</p> +<p> +I have mentioned that the Coa was immediately beneath the house; I must +also add that the little building occupied the angle of a steep but narrow +gorge which descended from the plain to the bridge across the stream. +This, as far as I knew, was the only means we possessed of passing the +river; so that, when the last retiring sounds of the troops were heard by +me, I began to suspect that Crawfurd, in compliance with his orders, was +making a backward movement, leaving the bridge open to the French, to draw +them on to his line of march, while he should cross over at some more +distant point. +</p> +<p> +As the night grew later, the storm seemed to increase; the waves of the +foaming river dashed against the frail walls of the hut, while its roof, +rent by the blast, fell in fragments upon the stream, and all threatened a +speedy and perfect ruin. +</p> +<p> +How I longed for morning! The doubt and uncertainty I suffered nearly +drove me distracted. Of all the casualties my career as a soldier opened, +none had such terrors for me as imprisonment; the very thought of the long +years of inaction and inglorious idleness was worse than any death. My +wounds, and the state of fever I was in, increased the morbid dread upon +me, and had the French captured me at the time, I know not that madness of +which I was not capable. Day broke at last, but slowly and sullenly; the +gray clouds hurried past upon the storm, pouring down the rain in torrents +as they went, and the desolation and dreariness on all sides was scarcely +preferable to the darkness and gloom of night. My eyes were turned ever +towards the plain, across which the winter wind bore the plashing rain in +vast sheets of water; the thunder crashed louder and louder; but except +the sounds of the storm none others met my ear. Not a man, not a human +figure could I see, as I strained my sight towards the distant horizon. +</p> +<p> +The morning crept over, but the storm abated not, and the same unchanged +aspect of dreary desolation prevailed without. At times I thought I could +hear, amidst the noises of the tempest, something like the roll of distant +artillery; but the thunder swelled in sullen roar above all, and left me +uncertain as before. +</p> +<p> +At last, in a momentary pause of the storm, a tremendous peal of heavy +guns caught my ear, followed by the long rattling of small-arms. My heart +bounded with ecstasy. The thoughts of the battle-field, with all its +changing fortunes, was better, a thousand times better, than the +despairing sense of desertion I labored under. I listened now with +eagerness, but the rain bore down again in torrents, and the crumbling +walls and falling timbers left no other sounds to be heard. Far as my eye +could reach, nothing could still be seen save the dreary monotony of the +vast plain, undulating slightly here and there, but unmarked by a sign of +man. +</p> +<p> +Far away towards the horizon I had remarked for some time past that the +clouds resting upon the earth grew blacker and blacker, spreading out to +either side in vast masses, and not broken or wafted along like the rest. +As I watched the phenomenon with an anxious eye, I perceived the dense +mass suddenly appear, as it were, rent asunder, while a volume of liquid +flame rushed wildly out, throwing a lurid glare on every side. One +terrific clap, louder than any thunder, shook the air at this moment, +while the very earth trembled beneath the shock. +</p> +<p> +As I hesitated what it might be, the heavy din of great guns again was +heard, and from the midst of the black smoke rode forth a dark mass, which +I soon recognized as the horse-artillery at full gallop. They were +directing their course towards the bridge. +</p> +<p> +As they mounted the little rising ground, they wheeled and unlimbered with +the speed of lightning, just as a strong column of cavalry showed above +the ridge. One tremendous discharge again shook the field, and ere the +smoke cleared away they were again far in retreat. +</p> +<p> +So much was my attention occupied with this movement that I had not +perceived the long line of infantry that came from the extreme left, and +were now advancing also towards the bridge at a brisk quick-step; +scattered bodies of cavalry came up from different parts, while from the +little valley, every now and then, a rifleman would mount the rising +ground, turning to fire as he retreated. All this boded a rapid and +disorderly retreat; and although as yet I could see nothing of the +pursuing enemy, I knew too well the relative forces of each to have a +doubt for the result. +</p> +<p> +At last the head of a French column appeared above the mist, and I could +plainly distinguish the gestures of the officers as they hurried their men +onwards. Meanwhile a loud hurra attracted my attention, and I turned my +eye towards the road which led to the river. Here a small body of the 95th +had hurriedly assembled, and formed again, were standing to cover the +retreat of the broken infantry as they passed on eagerly to the bridge; in +a second after the French cuirassiers appeared. Little anticipating +resistance from a flying and disordered mass, they rode headlong forward, +and although the firm attitude and steady bearing of the Highlanders might +have appalled them, they rode heedlessly down upon the square, sabring the +very men in the front rank. Till now not a trigger had been pulled, when +suddenly the word “Fire!” was given, and a withering volley of balls sent +the cavalry column in shivers. One hearty cheer broke from the infantry in +the rear, and I could hear “Gallant Ninety-fifth!” shouted on every side +along the plain. +</p> +<p> +The whole vast space before me was now one animated battle-ground. Our own +troops, retiring in haste before the overwhelming forces of the French, +occupied every little vantage ground with their guns and light infantry, +charges of cavalry coursing hither and thither; while, as the French +pressed forward, the retreating columns again formed into squares to +permit stragglers to come up. The rattle of small-arms, the heavy peal of +artillery, the earth-quake crash of cavalry, rose on every side, while the +cheers which alternately told of the vacillating fortune of the fight rose +amidst the wild pibroch of the Highlanders. +</p> +<p> +A tremendous noise now took place on the floor beneath me; and looking +down, I perceived that a sergeant and party of sappers had taken +possession of the little hut, and were busily engaged in piercing the +walls for musketry; and before many minutes had elapsed, a company of the +Rifles were thrown into the building, which, from its commanding position +above the road, enfiladed the whole line of march. The officer in command +briefly informed me that we had been attacked that morning by the French +in force, and “devilishly well thrashed;” that we were now in retreat +beyond the Coa, where we ought to have been three days previously, and +desired me to cross the bridge and get myself out of the way as soon as I +possibly could. +</p> +<p> +A twenty-four pounder from the French lines struck the angle of the house +as he spoke, scattering the mortar and broken bricks about us on all +sides. This was warning sufficient for me, wounded and disabled as I was; +so taking the few things I could save in my haste, I hurried from the hut, +and descending the path, now slippery by the heavy rain, I took my way +across the bridge, and established myself on a little rising knoll of +ground beyond, from which a clear view could be obtained of the whole +field. +</p> +<p> +I had not been many minutes in my present position ere the pass which led +down to the bridge became thronged with troops, wagons, ammunition carts, +and hospital stores, pressing thickly forward amidst shouting and uproar; +the hills on either side of the way were crowded with troops, who formed +as they came up, the artillery taking up their position on every rising +ground. The firing had already begun, and the heavy booming of the large +guns was heard at intervals amidst the rattling crash of musketry. Except +the narrow road before me, and the high bank of the stream, I could see +nothing; but the tumult and din, which grew momentarily louder, told that +the tide of battle raged nearer and nearer. Still the retreat continued; +and at length the heavy artillery came thundering across the narrow bridge +followed by stragglers of all arms, and wounded, hurrying to the rear. The +sharpshooters and the Highlanders held the heights above the stream, thus +covering the retiring columns; but I could plainly perceive that their +fire was gradually slackening, and that the guns which flanked their +position were withdrawn, and everything bespoke a speedy retreat. A +tremendous discharge of musketry at this moment, accompanied by a +deafening cheer, announced the advance of the French, and soon the head of +the Highland brigade was seen descending towards the bridge, followed by +the Rifles and the 95th; the cavalry, consisting of the 11th and 14th +Light Dragoons, were now formed in column of attack, and the infantry +deployed into line; and in an instant after, high above the din and crash +of battle, I heard the word “Charge!” The rising crest of the hill hid +them from my sight, but my heart bounded with ecstasy as I listened to the +clanging sound of the cavalry advance. Meanwhile the infantry pressed on, +and forming upon the bank, took up a strong position in front of the +bridge; the heavy guns were also unlimbered, riflemen scattered through +the low copse-wood, and every precaution taken to defend the pass to the +last. For a moment all my attention was riveted to the movements upon our +own side of the stream, when suddenly the cavalry bugle sounded the +recall, and the same moment the staff came galloping across the bridge. +One officer I could perceive, covered with orders and trappings, his head +was bare, and his horse, splashed with blood and foam, moved lamely and +with difficulty; he turned in the middle of the bridge, as if irresolute +whether to retreat farther. One glance at him showed me the bronzed, manly +features of our leader. Whatever his resolve, the matter was soon decided +for him, for the cavalry came galloping swiftly down the slope, and in an +instant the bridge was blocked up by the retreating forces, while the +French as suddenly appearing above the height, opened a plunging fire upon +their defenceless enemies; their cheer of triumph was answered by our +fellows from the opposite bank, and a heavy cannonade thundered along the +rocky valley, sending up a hundred echoes as it went. +</p> +<p> +The scene now became one of overwhelming interest; the French, posting +their guns upon the height, replied to our fire, while their line, +breaking into skirmishers, descended the banks to the river’s edge, and +poured in one sheet of galling musketry. The road to the bridge, swept by +our artillery, presented not a single file; and although a movement among +the French announced the threat of an attack, the deadly service of the +artillery seemed to pronounce it hopeless. +</p> +<p> +A strong cavalry force stood inactively spectators of the combat, on the +French side, among whom I now remarked some bustle and preparation, and as +I looked an officer rode boldly to the river’s edge, and spurring his +horse forward, plunged into the stream. The swollen and angry torrent, +increased by the late rains, boiled like barm, and foamed around him as he +advanced; when suddenly his horse appeared to have lost its footing, and +the rapid current, circling around him, bore him along with it. He labored +madly, but in vain, to retrace his steps; the rolling torrent rose above +his saddle, and all that his gallant steed could do was barely sufficient +to keep afloat; both man and horse were carried down between the +contending armies. I could see him wave his hand to his comrades, as if in +adieu. One deafening cheer of admiration rose from the French lines, and +the next moment he was seen to fall from his seat, and his body, shattered +with balls, floated mournfully upon the stream. +</p> +<p> +This little incident, to which both armies were witnesses, seemed to have +called forth all the fiercer passions of the contending forces; a loud +yell of taunting triumph rose from the Highlanders, responded to by a cry +of vengeance from the French, and the same moment the head of a column was +seen descending the narrow causeway to the bridge, while an officer with a +whole blaze of decorations and crosses sprang from his horse and took the +lead. The little drummer, a child of scarcely ten years old, tripped gayly +on, beating his little <i>pas des charge</i>, seeming rather like the play +of infancy than the summons to death and carnage, as the heavy guns of the +French opened a volume of fire and flame to cover the attacking column. +For a moment all was hid from our eyes; the moment after the grape-shot +swept along the narrow causeway; and the bridge, which but a second before +was crowded with the life and courage of a noble column, was now one heap +of dead and dying. The gallant fellow who led them on fell among the first +rank, and the little child, as if kneeling, was struck dead beside the +parapet; his fair hair floated across his cold features, and seemed in its +motion to lend a look of life where the heart’s throb had ceased forever. +The artillery again re-opened upon us; and when the smoke had cleared +away, we discovered that the French had advanced to the middle of the +bridge and carried off the body of their general. Twice they essayed to +cross, and twice the death-dealing fire of our guns covered the narrow +bridge with slain, while by the wild pibroch of the 42d, swelling madly +into notes of exultation and triumph, the Highlanders could scarcely be +prevented from advancing hand to hand with the foe. Gradually the French +slackened their fire, their great guns were one by one withdrawn from the +heights, and a dropping, irregular musketry at intervals sustained the +fight, which, ere sunset, ceased altogether; and thus ended “The Battle of +the Coa!” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI. +</h2> +<p> +THE NIGHT MARCH. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had the night fallen when our retreat commenced. Tired and weary +as our brave fellows felt, but little repose was allowed them; their +bivouac fires were blazing brightly, and they had just thrown themselves +in groups around them, when the word to fall in was passed from troop to +troop, and from battalion to battalion,—no trumpet, no bugle called +them to their ranks. It was necessary that all should be done noiselessly +and speedily; while, therefore, the wounded were marched to the front, and +the heavy artillery with them, a brigade of light four pounders and two +squadrons of cavalry held the heights above the bridge, and the infantry, +forming into three columns, began their march. +</p> +<p> +My wound, forgotten in the heat and excitement of the conflict, was now +becoming excessively painful, and I gladly availed myself of a place in a +wagon, where, stretched upon some fresh straw, with no other covering save +the starry sky, I soon fell sound asleep, and neither the heavy jolting of +the rough conveyance, nor the deep and rutty road, were able to disturb my +slumbers. Still through my sleep I heard the sounds around me, the heavy +tramp of infantry, the clash of the moving squadrons, and the dull roll of +artillery; and ever and anon the half-stifled cry of pain, mingling with +the reckless carol of some drinking-song, all flitted through my dreams, +lending to my thoughts of home and friends a memory of glorious war. +</p> +<p> +All the vicissitudes of a soldier’s life passed then in review before me, +elicited in some measure by the things about. The pomp and grandeur, the +misery and meanness, the triumph, the defeat, the moment of victory, and +the hour of death were there, and in that vivid dream I lived a life long. +</p> +<p> +I awoke at length, the cold and chilling air which follows midnight blew +around me, and my wounded arm felt as though it were frozen. I tried to +cover myself beneath the straw, but in vain; and as my limbs trembled and +my teeth chattered, I thought again of home, where, at that moment, the +poorest menial of my uncle’s house was better lodged than I; and strange +to say, something of pride mingled with the thought, and in my lonely +heart a feeling of elation cheered me. +</p> +<p> +These reflections were interrupted by the sound of a voice near me, which +I at once knew to be O’Shaughnessy’s; he was on foot, and speaking +evidently in some excitement. +</p> +<p> +“I tell you, Maurice, some confounded blunder there must be; sure, he was +left in the cottage near the bridge, and no one ever saw him after.” +</p> +<p> +“The French took it from the Rifles before we crossed the river. By Jove! +I’ll wager my chance of promotion against a pint of sherry, he’ll turn up +somewhere in the morning; those Galway chaps have as many lives as a cat.” +</p> +<p> +“See, now, Maurice, I wouldn’t for a full colonelcy anything would happen +to him; I like the boy.” +</p> +<p> +“So do I myself; but I tell you there’s no danger of him. Did you ask +Sparks anything?” +</p> +<p> +“Ask Sparks! God help you! Sparks would go off in a fit at the sight of +me. No, no, poor creature! it’s little use it would be my speaking to +him.” +</p> +<p> +“Why so, Doctor!” cried I, from my straw couch. +</p> +<p> +“May I never, if it’s not him! Charley, my son, I’m glad you’re safe. +‘Faith, I thought you were on your way to Verdun by this time.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure, I told you he’d find his way here—But, O’Mealey, dear, you’re +mighty could,—a rigor, as old M’Lauchlan would call it.” +</p> +<p> +“E’en sae, Maister Quill,” said a broad Scotch accent behind him; “and I +canna see ony objection to giein’ things their right names.” +</p> +<p> +“The top of the morning to you,” said Quill, familiarly patting him on the +back; “how goes it, old Brimstone?” +</p> +<p> +The conversation might not have taken a very amicable turn had M’Lauchlan +heard the latter part of this speech; but, as happily he was engaged +unpacking a small canteen which he had placed in the wagon, it passed +unnoticed. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll nae dislike a toothfu’ of something warm, Major,” said he, +presenting a glass to O’Shaughnessy; “and if ye’ll permit me, Mr. +O’Mealey, to help you—” +</p> +<p> +“A thousand thanks, Doctor; but I fear a broken arm—” +</p> +<p> +“There’s naething in the whiskey to prevent the proper formation of +callus.” +</p> +<p> +“By the rock of Cashel, it never made any one callous,” said +O’Shaughnessy, mistaking the import of the phrase. +</p> +<p> +“Ye are nae drinking frae the flask?” said the doctor, turning in some +agitation towards Quill. +</p> +<p> +“Devil a bit, my darling. I’ve a little horn convaniency here, that holds +half-a-pint, nice measure.” +</p> +<p> +I don’t imagine that our worthy friend participated in Quill’s admiration +of the “convaniency,” for he added, in a dry tone:— +</p> +<p> +“Ye may as weel tak your liquor frae a glass, like a Christian, as stick +your nose in a coo’s horn.” +</p> +<p> +“By my conscience, you’re no small judge of spirits, wherever you learned +it,” said the major; “it’s like Islay malt!” +</p> +<p> +“I was aye reckoned a gude ane,” said the doctor, “and my mither’s brither +Caimbogie had na his like in the north country. Ye may be heerd tell what +he aince said to the Duchess of Argyle, when she sent for him to taste her +claret.” +</p> +<p> +“Never heard of it,” quoth Quill; “let’s have it by all means. I’d like to +hear what the duchess said to him.” +</p> +<p> +“It was na what the duchess said to him, but what he said to the duchess, +ye ken. The way of it was this: My uncle Caimbogie was aye up at the +castle, for besides his knowledge of liquor, there was nae his match for +deer-stalking, or spearing a salmon, in those parts. He was a great, rough +carle, it’s true; but ane ye’d rather crack wi’ than fight wi’. +</p> +<p> +“Weel, ae day they had a grand dinner at the duke’s, and there were plenty +o’ great southern lords and braw leddies in velvets and satin; and vara +muckle surprised they were at my uncle, when he came in wi’ his tartan +kilt, in full Highland dress, as the head of a clan ought to do. +Caimbogie, however, pe’d nae attention to them; but he eat his dinner, and +drank his wine, and talked away about fallow and red deer, and at last the +duchess, for she was aye fond o’ him, addressed him frae the head o’ the +table:— +</p> +<p> +“‘Cambogie,’ quoth she, ‘I’d like to hae your opinion about that wine. +It’s some the duke has just received, and we should like to hear what you +think of it.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘It’s nae sae bad, my leddy,’ said my uncle; for ye see he was a man of +few words, and never flattered onybody. +</p> +<p> +“‘Then you don’t approve much of it?’ said the duchess. +</p> +<p> +“‘I’ve drank better, and I’ve drank waur,’ quo’ he. +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m sorry you don’t like it, Caimbogie,’ said the duchess, ‘for it can +never be popular now,—we have such a dependence upon your taste.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I cauna say ower muckle for my <i>taste</i>, my leddy, but ae thing I <i>will</i> +say,—I’ve a most damnable <i>smell!</i>’ +</p> +<p> +“I hear that never since the auld walls stood was there ever the like o’ +the laughing that followed; the puir duke himsel’ was carried away, and +nearly had a fit, and a’ the grand lords and leddies a’most died of it. +But see here, the earle has nae left a drap o’ whiskey in the flask.” +</p> +<p> +“The last glass I drained to your respectable uncle’s health,” said Quill, +with a most professional gravity. “Now, Charlie, make a little room for me +in the straw.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor soon mounted beside me, and giving me a share of his ample +cloak, considerably ameliorated my situation. +</p> +<p> +“So you knew Sparks, Doctor?” said I, with a strong curiosity to hear +something of his early acquaintance. +</p> +<p> +“That I did: I knew him when he was an ensign in the 10th Foot; and, to +say the truth, he is not much changed since that time,—the same +lively look of a sick cod-fish about his gray eyes; the same disorderly +wave of his yellow hair; the same whining voice, and that confounded +apothecary’s laugh.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, Doctor, Sparks is a good fellow at heart; I won’t have him +abused. I never knew he had been in the infantry; I should think it must +have been another of the same name.” +</p> +<p> +“Not at all; there’s only one like him in the service, and that’s himself. +Confound it, man, I’d know his skin upon a bush; he was only three weeks +in the Tenth, and, indeed, your humble servant has the whole merit of his +leaving it so soon.” +</p> +<p> +“Do let us hear how that happened.” +</p> +<p> +“Simply thus: The jolly Tenth were some four years ago the pleasantest +corps in the army; from the lieutenant-colonel down to the last joined +sub., all were out-and-outers,—real gay fellows. The mess was, in +fact, like a pleasant club, and if you did not suit it, the best thing you +could do was to sell out or exchange into a slower regiment; and, indeed, +this very wholesome truth was not very long in reaching your ears some way +or other, and a man that could remain after being given this hint, was +likely to go afterwards without one.” +</p> +<p> +Just as Dr. Quill reached this part of his story, an orderly dragoon +galloped furiously past, and the next moment an aide-de-camp rode by, +calling as he passed us,— +</p> +<p> +“Close up, there! Close up! Get forward, my lads! get forward!” +</p> +<p> +It was evident, from the stir and bustle about, that some movement was +being made; and soon after, a dropping, irregular fire from the rear +showed that our cavalry were engaged with the enemy. The affair was +scarcely of five minutes’ duration, and our march resumed all its former +regularity immediately after. +</p> +<p> +I now turned to the doctor to resume his story, but he was gone; at what +moment he left I could not say, but O’Shaughnessy was also absent, nor did +I again meet with them for a considerable time after. +</p> +<p> +Towards daybreak we halted at Bonares, when, my wound demanding rest and +attention, I was billeted in the village, and consigned to all the +miseries of a sick bed. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII. +</h2> +<p> +THE JOURNEY. +</p> +<p> +With that disastrous day my campaigning was destined, for some time at +least, to conclude. My wound, which grew from hour to hour more +threatening, at length began to menace the loss of the arm, and by the +recommendation of the regimental surgeons, I was ordered back to Lisbon. +</p> +<p> +Mike, by this time perfectly restored, prepared everything for my +departure, and on the third day after the battle of the Coa, I began my +journey with downcast spirits and depressed heart. The poor fellow was, +however, a kind and affectionate nurse, and unlike many others, his cares +were not limited to the mere bodily wants of his patient,—he +sustained, as well as he was able, my drooping resolution, rallied my +spirits, and cheered my courage. With the very little Portuguese he +possessed, he contrived to make every imaginable species of bargain; +always managed a good billet; kept every one in good humor, and rarely +left his quarters in the morning without a most affective leave-taking, +and reiterated promises to renew his visit. +</p> +<p> +Our journeys were usually short ones, and already two days had elapsed, +when, towards nightfall, we entered the little hamlet of Jaffra. During +the entire of that day, the pain of my wounded limb had been excruciating; +the fatigue of the road and the heat had brought back violent +inflammation, and when at last the little village came in sight, my reason +was fast yielding to the torturing agonies of my wound. But the transports +with which I greeted my resting-place were soon destined to a change; for +as we drew near, not a light was to be seen, not a sound to be heard, not +even a dog barked as the heavy mule-cart rattled over the uneven road. No +trace of any living thing was there. The little hamlet lay sleeping in the +pale moonlight, its streets deserted, and its homes tenantless; our own +footsteps alone echoed along the dreary causeway. Here and there, as we +advanced farther, we found some relics of broken furniture and house-gear; +most of the doors lay open, but nothing remained within save bare walls; +the embers still smoked in many places upon the hearth, and showed us that +the flight of the inhabitants had been recent. Yet everything convinced us +that the French had not been there; there was no trace of the reckless +violence and wanton cruelty which marked their footsteps everywhere. +</p> +<p> +All proved that the desertion had been voluntary; perhaps in compliance +with an order of our commander-in-chief, who frequently desired any +intended line of march of the enemy to be left thus a desert. As we +sauntered slowly on from street to street, half hoping that some one human +being yet remained behind, and casting our eyes from side to side in +search of quarters for the night, Mike suddenly came running up, saying,— +</p> +<p> +“I have it, sir; I’ve found it out. There’s people living down that small +street there; I saw a light this minute as I passed.” +</p> +<p> +I turned immediately, and accompanied by the mule-driver, followed Mike +across a little open square into a small and narrow street, at the end of +which a light was seen faintly twinkling. We hurried on and in a few +minutes reached a high wall of solid masonry, from a niche of which we now +discovered, to our utter disappointment, the light proceeded. It was a +small lamp placed before a little waxen image of the Virgin, and was +probably the last act of piety of some poor villager ere he left his home +and hearth forever. There it burned, brightly and tranquilly, throwing its +mellow ray upon the cold, deserted stones. +</p> +<p> +Whatever impatience I might have given way to in a moment of chagrin was +soon repressed, as I saw my two followers, uncovering their heads in +silent reverence, kneel down before the little shrine. There was something +at once touching and solemn in this simultaneous feeling of homage from +the hearts of those removed in country, language, and in blood. They bent +meekly down, their heads bowed upon their bosoms, while with muttering +voices each offered up his prayer. All sense of their disappointment, all +memory of their forlorn state, seemed to have yielded to more powerful and +absorbing thoughts, as they opened their hearts in prayer. +</p> +<p> +My eyes were still fixed upon them when suddenly Mike, whose devotion +seemed of the briefest, sprang to his legs, and with a spirit of levity +but little in accordance with his late proceedings, commenced a series of +kicking, rapping, and knocking at a small oak postern sufficient to have +aroused a whole convent from their cells. “House there! Good people +within!”—bang, bang, bang; but the echoes alone responded to his +call, and the sounds died away at length in the distant streets, leaving +all as silent and dreary as before. +</p> +<p> +Our Portuguese friend, who by this time had finished his orisons, now +began a vigorous attack upon the small door, and with the assistance of +Mike, armed with a fragment of granite about the size of a man’s head, at +length separated the frame from the hinges, and sent the whole mass +prostrate before us. +</p> +<p> +The moon was just rising as we entered the little park, where gravelled +walks, neatly kept and well-trimmed, bespoke recent care and attention; +following a handsome alley of lime-trees, we reached a little <i>jet d’eau</i>, +whose sparkling fountain shone diamond-like in the moonbeams, and escaping +from the edge of a vast shell, ran murmuring amidst mossy stones and +water-lilies that, however naturally they seemed thrown around, bespoke +also the hand of taste in their position. On turning from the spot, we +came directly in front of an old but handsome château, before which +stretched a terrace of considerable extent. Its balustraded parapet lined +with orange-trees, now in full blossom, scented the still air with +delicious odor; marble statues peeped here and there amidst the foliage, +while a rich acacia, loaded with flowers, covered the walls of the +building, and hung in vast masses of variegated blossom across the tall +windows. +</p> +<p> +As leaning on Mike’s arm I slowly ascended the steps of the terrace, I was +more than ever struck with the silence and death-like stillness around; +except the gentle plash of the fountain, all was at rest; the very plants +seemed to sleep in the yellow moonlight, and not a trace of any living +thing was there. +</p> +<p> +The massive door lay open as we entered the spacious hall flagged with +marble and surrounded with armorial bearings. We advanced farther and came +to a broad and handsome stair, which led us to a long gallery, from which +a suit of rooms opened, looking towards the front part of the building. +Wherever we went, the furniture appeared perfectly untouched; nothing was +removed; the very chairs were grouped around the windows and the tables; +books, as if suddenly dropped from their readers’ hands, were scattered +upon the sofas and the ottomans; and in one small apartment, whose blue +satin walls and damask drapery bespoke a boudoir, a rich mantilla of black +velvet and a silk glove were thrown upon a chair. It was clear the +desertion had been most recent, and everything indicated that no time had +been given to the fugitives to prepare for flight. What a sad picture of +war was there! To think of those whose home was endeared to them by all +the refinements of cultivated life and all the associations of years of +happiness sent out upon the wide world wanderers and houseless, while +their hearth, sacred by every tie that binds us to our kindred, was to be +desecrated by the ruthless and savage hands of a ruffian soldiery. I +thought of them,—perhaps at that very hour their thoughts were +clinging round the old walls, remembering each well-beloved spot, while +they took their lonely path through mountain and through valley,—and +felt ashamed and abashed at my own intrusion there. While thus my revery +ran on, I had not perceived that Mike, whose views were very practical +upon all occasions, had lighted a most cheerful fire upon the hearth, and +disposing a large sofa before it, had carefully closed the curtains; and +was, in fact, making himself and his master as much at home as though he +had spent his life there. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it a beautiful place, Misther Charles? And this little room, +doesn’t it remind you of the blue bed-room in O’Malley Castle, barrin’ the +elegant view out upon the Shannon, and the mountain of Scariff?” +</p> +<p> +Nothing short of Mike’s patriotism could forgive such a comparison; but, +however, I did not contradict him as he ran on:— +</p> +<p> +“Faith, I knew well there was luck in store for us this evening; and ye +see the handful of prayers I threw away outside wasn’t lost. José’s making +the beasts comfortable in the stable, and I’m thinking we’ll none of us +complain of our quarters. But you’re not eating your supper; and the +beautiful hare-pie that I stole this morning, won’t you taste it? Well, a +glass of Malaga? Not a glass of Malaga? Oh, mother of Moses! what’s this +for?” +</p> +<p> +Unfortunately, the fever produced by the long and toilsome journey had +gained considerably on me, and except copious libations of cold water, I +could touch nothing; my arm, too, was much more painful than before. Mike +soon perceived that rest and quietness were most important to me at the +moment, and having with difficulty been prevailed upon to swallow a few +hurried mouthfuls, the poor fellow disposed cushions around me in every +imaginable form for comfort; and then, placing my wounded limb in its +easiest position, he extinguished the lamp, and sat silently down beside +the hearth, without speaking another word. +</p> +<p> +Fatigue and exhaustion, more powerful than pain, soon produced their +effects upon me, and I fell asleep; but it was no refreshing slumber which +visited my heavy eyelids; the slow fever of suffering had been hour by +hour increasing, and my dreams presented nothing but scenes of agony and +torture. Now I thought that, unhorsed and wounded, I was trampled beneath +the clanging hoofs of charging cavalry; now I felt the sharp steel +piercing my flesh, and heard the loud cry of a victorious enemy; then, +methought, I was stretched upon a litter, covered by gore and mangled by a +grape-shot. I thought I saw my brother officers approach and look sadly +upon me, while one, whose face I could not remember, muttered: “I should +not have known him.” The dreadful hospital of Talavera, and all its scenes +of agony, came up before me, and I thought that I lay waiting my turn for +amputation. This last impression, more horrible to me than all the rest, +made me spring from my couch, and I awoke. The cold drops of perspiration +stood upon my brow, my mouth was parched and open, and my temples throbbed +so that I could count their beatings; for some seconds I could not throw +off the frightful illusion I labored under, and it was only by degrees I +recovered consciousness and remembered where I was. Before me, and on one +side of the bright wood-fire, sat Mike, who, apparently deep in thought, +gazed fixedly at the blaze. The start I gave on awaking had not attracted +his attention, and I could see, as the flickering glare fell upon his +features, that he was pale and ghastly, while his eyes were riveted upon +the fire; his lips moved rapidly, as if in prayer, and his locked hands +were pressed firmly upon his bosom; his voice, at first inaudible, I could +gradually distinguish, and at length heard the following muttered +sentences:— +</p> +<p> +“Oh, mother of mercy! So far from his home and his people, and so young to +die in a strange land—There it is again.” Here he appeared listening +to some sounds from without. “Oh, wirra, wirra, I know it well!—the +winding-sheet, the winding-sheet! There it is; my own eyes saw it!” The +tears coursed fast upon his pale cheeks, and his voice grew almost +inaudible, as rocking to and fro, for some time he seemed in a very stupor +of grief; when at last, in a faint, subdued tone, he broke into one of +those sad and plaintive airs of his country, which only need the moment of +depression to make them wring the very heart in agony. +</p> +<p> +His song was that to which Moore has appended the beautiful lines, “Come +rest on this bosom.” The following imperfect translation may serve to +convey some impression of the words, which in Mike’s version were Irish:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“The day was declining, +The dark night drew near, +And the old lord grew sadder +And paler with fear: +‘Come listen, my daughter, +Come nearer, oh, near! +Is’t the wind or the water +That sighs in my ear?’ + +“Not the wind nor the water +Now stirred the night air, +But a warning far sadder,—. +The Banshee was there! +Now rising, now swelling, +On the night wind it bore +One cadence, still telling, +‘I want thee, Rossmore!’ + +“And then fast came his breath, +And more fixed grew his eye; +And the shadow of death +Told his hour was nigh. +Ere the dawn of that morning +The struggle was o’er, +For when thrice came the warning +A corpse was Rossmore!” +</pre> +<p> +The plaintive air to which these words were sung fell heavily upon my +heart, and it needed but the low and nervous condition I was in to make me +feel their application to myself. But so it is; the very superstition your +reason rejects and your sense spurns, has, from old association, from +habit, and from mere nationality too, a hold upon your hopes and fears +that demands more firmness and courage than a sick-bed possesses to combat +with success; and I now listened with an eager ear to mark if the Banshee +cried, rather than sought to fortify myself by any recurrence to my own +convictions. Meanwhile Mike’s attitude became one of listening attention. +Not a finger moved; he scarce seemed even to breathe; the state of +suspense I suffered from was maddening; and at last, unable to bear it +longer, I was about to speak, when suddenly, from the floor beneath us, +one long-sustained note swelled upon the air and died away again, and +immediately after, to the cheerful sounds of a guitar, we heard the husky +voice of our Portuguese guide indulging himself in a love-ditty. +</p> +<p> +Ashamed of myself for my fears, I kept silent; but Mike, who felt only one +sensation,—that of unmixed satisfaction at his mistake,—rubbed +his hands pleasantly, filled up his glass, drank it, and refilled; while +with an accent of reassured courage, he briefly remarked,— +</p> +<p> +“Well, Mr. José, if that be singing, upon my conscience I wonder what +crying is like!” +</p> +<p> +I could not forbear a laugh at the criticism; and in a moment, the poor +fellow, who up to that moment believed me sleeping, was beside me. I saw +from his manner that he dreaded lest I had been listening to his +melancholy song, and had overheard any of his gloomy forebodings; and as +he cheered my spirits and spoke encouragingly, I could remark that he made +more than usual endeavors to appear light-hearted and at ease. Determined, +however, not to let him escape so easily, I questioned him about his +belief in ghosts and spirits, at which he endeavored, as he ever did when +the subject was an unpleasing one, to avoid the discussion; but rather +perceiving that I indulged in no irreverent disrespect of these matters, +he grew gradually more open, treating the affair with that strange mixture +of credulity and mockery which formed his estimate of most things,—now +seeming to suppose that any palpable rejection of them might entail sad +consequences in future, now half ashamed to go the whole length in his +credulity. +</p> +<p> +“And so, Mike, you never saw a ghost yourself?—that you +acknowledge?” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir, I never saw a real ghost; but sure there’s many a thing I never +saw; but Mrs. Moore, the housekeeper, seen two. And your grandfather +that’s gone—the Lord be good to him!—used to walk once a year +in Lurra Abbey; and sure you know the story about Tim Clinchy that was +seen every Saturday night coming out of the cellar with a candle and a mug +of wine and a pipe in his mouth, till Mr. Barry laid him. It cost his +honor your uncle ten pounds in Masses to make him easy; not to speak of a +new lock and two bolts on the cellar door.” +</p> +<p> +“I have heard all about that; but as you never yourself saw any of these +things—” +</p> +<p> +“But sure my father did, and that’s the same any day. My father seen the +greatest ghost that ever was seen in the county Cork, and spent the +evening with him, that’s more.” +</p> +<p> +“Spent the evening with him!—what do you mean?” +</p> +<p> +“Just that, devil a more nor less. If your honor wasn’t so weak, and the +story wasn’t a trying one, I’d like to tell it to you.” +</p> +<p> +“Out with it by all means, Mike; I am not disposed to sleep; and now that +we are upon these matters, my curiosity is strongly excited by your worthy +father’s experience.” +</p> +<p> +Thus encouraged, having trimmed the fire and reseated himself beside the +blaze, Mike began; but as a ghost is no every-day personage in our +history, I must give him a chapter to himself. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII. +</h2> +<p> +THE GHOST. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I believe your honor heard me tell long ago how my father left the +army, and the way that he took to another line of life that was more to +his liking. And so it was, he was happy as the day was long; he drove a +hearse for Mr. Callaghan of Cork for many years, and a pleasant place it +was; for ye see, my father was a ‘cute man, and knew something of the +world; and though he was a droll devil, and could sing a funny song when +he was among the boys, no sooner had he the big black cloak on him and the +weepers, and he seated on the high box with the six long-tailed blacks +before him, you’d really think it was his own mother was inside, he looked +so melancholy and miserable. The sexton and gravedigger was nothing to my +father; and he had a look about his eye—to be sure there was a +reason for it—that you’d think he was up all night crying; though +it’s little indulgence he took that way. +</p> +<p> +“Well, of all Mr. Callaghan’s men, there was none so great a favorite as +my father. The neighbors were all fond of him. +</p> +<p> +“‘A kind crayture, every inch of him!’ the women would say. ‘Did ye see +his face at Mrs. Delany’s funeral?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘True for you,’ another would remark; ‘he mistook the road with grief, +and stopped at a shebeen house instead of Kilmurry church.’ +</p> +<p> +“I need say no more, only one thing,—that it was principally among +the farmers and the country people my father was liked so much. The great +people and the quality—ax your pardon; but sure isn’t it true, +Mister Charles?—they don’t fret so much after their fathers and +brothers, and they care little who’s driving them, whether it was a +decent, respectable man like my father, or a chap with a grin on him like +a rat-trap. And so it happened that my father used to travel half the +county; going here and there wherever there was trade stirring; and faix, +a man didn’t think himself rightly buried if my father wasn’t there; for +ye see, he knew all about it: he could tell to a quart of spirits what +would be wanting for a wake; he knew all the good criers for miles round; +and I’ve heard it was a beautiful sight to see him standing on a hill, +arranging the procession as they walked into the churchyard, and giving +the word like a captain,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Come on, the stiff; now the friends of the stiff; now the pop’lace.’ +</p> +<p> +“That’s what he used to say, and troth he was always repeating it, when he +was a little gone in drink,—for that’s the time his spirits would +rise, and he’d think he was burying half Munster. +</p> +<p> +“And sure it was a real pleasure and a pride to be buried in them times; +for av it was only a small farmer with a potato garden, my father would +come down with the black cloak on him, and three yards of crape behind his +hat, and set all the children crying and yelling for half a mile round; +and then the way he’d walk before them with a spade on his shoulder, and +sticking it down in the ground, clap his hat on the top of it, to make it +look like a chief mourner. It was a beautiful sight!” +</p> +<p> +“But Mike, if you indulge much longer in this flattering recollection of +your father, I’m afraid we shall lose sight of the ghost entirely.” +</p> +<p> +“No fear in life, your honor; I’m coming to him now. Well, it was this way +it happened: In the winter of the great frost, about forty-two or +forty-three years ago, the ould priest of Tullonghmurray took ill and +died. He was sixty years priest of the parish, and mightily beloved by all +the people, and good reason for it; a pleasanter man, and a more social +crayture never lived,—‘twas himself was the life of the whole +country-side. A wedding nor a christening wasn’t lucky av he wasn’t there, +sitting at the top of the table, with may be his arm round the bride +herself, or the baby on his lap, a smoking jug of punch before him, and as +much kindness in his eye as would make the fortunes of twenty hypocrites +if they had it among them. And then he was so good to the poor; the Priory +was always so full of ould men and ould women sitting around the big fire +in the kitchen that the cook could hardly get near it. There they were, +eating their meals and burning their shins till they were speckled like a +trout’s back, and grumbling all the time; but Father Dwyer liked them, and +he would have them. +</p> +<p> +“‘Where have they to go,’ he’d say, ‘av it wasn’t to me? Give Molly +Kinshela a lock of that bacon. Tim, it’s a could morning; will ye have a +taste of the “dew?”’ +</p> +<p> +“Ah, that’s the way he’d spake to them; but sure goodness is no warrant +for living, any more than devilment, and so he got could in his feet at a +station, and he rode home in the heavy snow without his big coat,—for +he gave it away to a blind man on the road; in three days he was dead. +</p> +<p> +“I see you’re getting impatient, so I’ll not stop to say what grief was in +the parish when it was known; but troth, there never was seen the like +before,—not a crayture would lift a spade for two days, and there +was more whiskey sold in that time than at the whole spring fair. Well, on +the third day the funeral set out, and never was the equal of it in them +parts: first, there was my father,—he came special from Cork with +the six horses all in new black, and plumes like little poplar-trees,—then +came Father Dwyer, followed by the two coadjutors in beautiful surplices, +walking bare-headed, with the little boys of the Priory school, +two-and-two.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Mike, I’m sure it was very fine; but for Heaven’s sake, spare me +all these descriptions, and get on to the ghost!” +</p> +<p> +“‘Faith, yer honor’s in a great hurry for the ghost,—may be ye won’t +like him when ye have him; but I’ll go faster, if ye please. Well, Father +Dwyer, ye see, was born at Aghan-lish, of an ould family, and he left it +in his will that he was to be buried in the family vault; and as +Aghan-lish was eighteen miles up the mountains, it was getting late when +they drew near. By that time the great procession was all broke up and +gone home. The coadjutors stopped to dine at the ‘Blue Bellows’ at the +cross-roads; the little boys took to pelting snowballs; there was a fight +or two on the way besides,—and in fact, except an ould deaf fellow +that my father took to mind the horses, he was quite alone. Not that he +minded that same; for when the crowd was gone, my father began to sing a +droll song, and told the deaf chap that it was a lamentation. At last they +came in sight of Aghan-lish. It was a lonesome, melancholy-looking place +with nothing near it except two or three ould fir-trees and a small slated +house with one window, where the sexton lived, and even that was shut up +and a padlock on the door. Well, my father was not over much pleased at +the look of matters; but as he was never hard put to what to do, he +managed to get the coffin into the vestry, and then when he had +unharnessed the horses, he sent the deaf fellow with them down to the +village to tell the priest that the corpse was there, and to come up early +in the morning and perform Mass. The next thing to do was to make himself +comfortable for the night; and then he made a roaring fire on the ould +hearth,—for there was plenty of bog-fir there,—closed the +windows with the black cloaks, and wrapping two round himself, he sat down +to cook a little supper he brought with him in case of need. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you may think it was melancholy enough to pass the night up there +alone with a corpse, in an ould ruined church in the middle of the +mountains, the wind howling about on every side, and the snowdrift beating +against the walls; but as the fire burned brightly, and the little plate +of rashers and eggs smoked temptingly before him, my father mixed a jug of +the strongest punch, and sat down as happy as a king. As long as he was +eating away he had no time to be thinking of anything else; but when all +was done, and he looked about him, he began to feel very low and +melancholy in his heart. There was the great black coffin on three chairs +in one corner; and then the mourning cloaks that he had stuck up against +the windows moved backward and forward like living things; and outside, +the wild cry of the plover as he flew past, and the night-owl sitting in a +nook of the old church. ‘I wish it was morning, anyhow,’ said my father, +‘for this is a lonesome place to be in; and faix, he’ll be a cunning +fellow that catches me passing the night this way again.’ Now there was +one thing distressed him most of all,—my father used always to make +fun of the ghosts and sperits the neighbors would tell of, pretending +there was no such thing; and now the thought came to him, ‘May be they’ll +revenge themselves on me to-night when they have me up here alone;’ and +with that he made another jug stronger than the first, and tried to +remember a few prayers in case of need, but somehow his mind was not too +clear, and he said afterwards he was always mixing up ould songs and +toasts with the prayers, and when he thought he had just got hold of a +beautiful psalm, it would turn out to be ‘Tatter Jack Walsh’ or ‘Limping +James’ or something like that. The storm, meanwhile, was rising every +moment, and parts of the old abbey were falling as the wind shook the +ruin; and my father’s spirits, notwithstanding the punch, wore lower than +ever. +</p> +<p> +“‘I made it too weak,’ said he, as he set to work on a new jorum; and +troth, this time that was not the fault of it, for the first sup nearly +choked him. +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah,’ said he, now, ‘I knew what it was; this is like the thing; and Mr. +Free, you are beginning to feel easy and comfortable. Pass the jar. Your +very good health and song. I’m a little hoarse, it’s true, but if the +company will excuse—’ +</p> +<p> +“And then he began knocking on the table with his knuckles, as if there +was a room full of people asking him to sing. In short, my father was +drunk as a fiddler; the last brew finished him; and he began roaring away +all kinds of droll songs, and telling all manner of stories as if he was +at a great party. +</p> +<p> +“While he was capering this way about the room, he knocked down his hat, +and with it a pack of cards he put into it before leaving home, for he was +mighty fond of a game. +</p> +<p> +“‘Will ye take a hand, Mr. Free?’ said he, as he gathered them up and sat +down beside the fire. +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m convanient,’ said he, and began dealing out as if there was a +partner fornenst him. +</p> +<p> +“When my father used to get this far in the story, he became very +confused. He says that once or twice he mistook the liquor, and took a +pull at the bottle of poteen instead of the punch; and the last thing he +remembers was asking poor Father Dwyer if he would draw near to the fire, +and not be lying there near the door. +</p> +<p> +“With that he slipped down on the ground and fell fast asleep. How long he +lay that way he could never tell. When he awoke and looked up, his hair +nearly stood on an end with fright. What do you think he seen fornenst +him, sitting at the other side of the fire, but Father Dwyer himself. +There he was, divil a lie in it, wrapped up in one of the mourning cloaks, +trying to warm his hands at the fire. “‘<i>Salve hoc nomine patri!</i>’ +said my father, crossing himself, ‘av it’s your ghost, God presarve me!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Good-evening t’ye, Mr. Free,’ said the ghost; ‘and av I might be bould, +what’s in the jug?’—for ye see, my father had it under his arm fast, +and never let it go when he was asleep. +</p> +<p> +“‘<i>Pater noster qui es in</i>,—poteen, sir,’ said my father; for +the ghost didn’t look pleased at his talking Latin. +</p> +<p> +“‘Ye might have the politeness to ax if one had a mouth on him, then,’ +says the ghost. +</p> +<p> +“‘Sure, I didn’t think the likes of you would taste sperits.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Try me,’ said the ghost; and with that he filled out a glass, and tossed +it off like a Christian. +</p> +<p> +“‘Beamish!’ says the ghost, smacking his lips. +</p> +<p> +“‘The same,’ says my father; ‘and sure what’s happened you has not spoiled +your taste.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘If you’d mix a little hot,’ says the ghost, ‘I’m thinking it would be +better,—the night is mighty sevare.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Anything that your reverance pleases,’ says my father, as he began to +blow up a good fire to boil the water. +</p> +<p> +“‘And what news is stirring?’ says the ghost. +</p> +<p> +“‘Devil a word, your reverance,—your own funeral was the only thing +doing last week. Times is bad; except the measles, there’s nothing in our +parts.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And we’re quite dead hereabouts, too,’ says the ghost. +</p> +<p> +“‘There’s some of us so, anyhow, says my father, with a sly look. ‘Taste +that, your reverance.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Pleasant and refreshing,’ says the ghost; ‘and now, Mr. Free, what do +you say to a little “spoilt five,” or “beggar my neighbor”?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What will we play for? ‘says my father, for a thought just struck him,—‘may +be it’s some trick of the Devil to catch my soul.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘A pint of Beamish,’ says the ghost. +</p> +<p> +“‘Done!’ says my father; ‘cut for deal. The ace of clubs,—you have +it.’ +</p> +<p> +“Now the whole time the ghost was dealing the cards, my father never took +his eyes off of him, for he wasn’t quite aisy in his mind at all; but when +he saw him turn up the trump, and take a strong drink afterwards, he got +more at ease, and began the game. +</p> +<p> +“How long they played it was never rightly known; but one thing is sure, +they drank a cruel deal of sperits. Three quart bottles my father brought +with him were all finished, and by that time his brain was so confused +with the liquor, and all he lost,—for somehow he never won a game,—that +he was getting very quarrelsome. +</p> +<p> +“‘You have your own luck to it,’ says he, at last. +</p> +<p> +“‘True for you; and besides, we play a great deal where I come from.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’ve heard so,’ says my father. ‘I lead the knave, sir; spades! Bad cess +to it, lost again!’ +</p> +<p> +“Now it was really very distressing; for by this time, though they only +began for a pint of Beamish, my father went on betting till he lost the +hearse and all the six horses, mourning cloaks, plumes, and everything. +</p> +<p> +“‘Are you tired, Mr. Free? May be you’d like to stop?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Stop! faith it’s a nice time to stop; of course not.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, what will ye play for now?’ +</p> +<p> +“The way he said these woods brought a trembling all over my father, and +his blood curdled in his heart. ‘Oh, murther!’ says he to himself, ‘it’s +my sowl he’s wanting all the time.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’ve mighty little left,’ says my father, looking at him keenly, while +he kept shuffling the cards quick as lightning. +</p> +<p> +“‘Mighty little; no matter, we’ll give you plenty of time to pay,—and +if you can’t do it, it shall never trouble you as long as you live.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, you murthering devil!’ says my father, flying at him with a spade +that he had behind his chair, ‘I’ve found you out.’ +</p> +<p> +“With one blow he knocked him down, and now a terrible fight begun, for +the ghost was very strong, too; but my father’s blood was up, and he’d +have faced the Devil himself then. They rolled over each other several +times, the broken bottles cutting them to pieces, and the chairs and +tables crashing under them. At last the ghost took the bottle that lay on +the hearth, and levelled my father to the ground with one blow. Down he +fell, and the bottle and the whiskey were both dashed into the fire. That +was the end of it, for the ghost disappeared that moment in a blue flame +that nearly set fire to my father as he lay on the floor. +</p> +<p> +“Och, it was a cruel sight to see him next morning, with his cheek cut +open and his hands all bloody, lying there by himself,—all the +broken glass and the cards all round him,—the coffin, too, was +knocked down off the chair, may be the ghost had trouble getting into it. +However that was, the funeral was put off for a day, for my father +couldn’t speak; and as for the sexton, it was a queer thing, but when they +came to call him in the morning, he had two black eyes, and a gash over +his ear, and he never knew how he got them. It was easy enough to know the +ghost did it; but my father kept the secret, and never told it to any man, +woman, or child in them parts.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IX. +</h2> +<p> +LISBON. +</p> +<p> +I have little power to trace the events which occupied the succeeding +three weeks of my history. The lingering fever which attended my wound +detained me during that time at the château; and when at last I did leave +for Lisbon, the winter was already beginning, and it was upon a cold raw +evening that I once more took possession of my old quarters at the Quay de +Soderi. +</p> +<p> +My eagerness and anxiety to learn something of the campaign was ever +uppermost, and no sooner had I reached my destination than I despatched +Mike to the quartermaster’s office to pick up some news, and hear which of +my friends and brother officers were then at Lisbon. I was sitting in a +state of nervous impatience watching for his return, when at length I +heard footsteps approaching my room, and the next moment Mike’s voice, +saying, “The ould room, sir, where he was before.” The door suddenly +opened, and my friend Power stood before me. +</p> +<p> +“Charley, my boy!”—“Fred, my fine fellow!” was all either could say +for some minutes. Upon my part, the recollection of his bold and manly +bearing in my behalf choked all utterance; while upon his, my haggard +cheek and worn look produced an effect so sudden and unexpected that he +became speechless. +</p> +<p> +In a few minutes, however, we both rallied, and opened our store of mutual +remembrances since we parted. My career I found he was perfectly +acquainted with, and his consisted of nothing but one unceasing round of +gayety and pleasure. Lisbon had been delightful during the summer,—parties +to Cintra, excursions through the surrounding country, were of daily +occurrence; and as my friend was a favorite everywhere, his life was one +of continued amusement. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know, Charley, had it been any other man than yourself, I should +not have spared him; for I have fallen head over ears in love with your +little dark-eyed Portuguese.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Donna Inez, you mean?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, it is she I mean, and you need not affect such an air of uncommon <i>nonchalance</i>. +She’s the loveliest girl in Lisbon, and with fortune to pay off all the +mortgages in Connemara.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, faith! I admire her amazingly; but as I never flattered myself upon +any preference—” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, Charley, no concealment, my old fellow; every one knows the +thing’s settled. Your old friend, Sir George Dashwood, told me yesterday.” +</p> +<p> +“Yesterday! Why, is he here, at Lisbon?” +</p> +<p> +“To be sure he is; didn’t I tell you that before? Confound it, what a head +I have! Why, man, he’s come out as deputy adjutant-general; but for him I +should not have got renewed leave.” +</p> +<p> +“And Miss Dashwood, is she here?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, she came with him. By Jove, how handsome she is,—quite a +different style of thing from our dark friend, but, to my thinking, even +handsomer. Hammersley seems of my opinion, too.” +</p> +<p> +“How! Is Hammersley at Lisbon?” +</p> +<p> +“On the staff here. But, confound it, what makes you so red, you have no +ill-feeling towards him now. I know he speaks most warmly of you; no later +than last night, at Sir George’s—” +</p> +<p> +What Power was about to add I know not, for I sprang from my chair with a +sudden start, and walked to the window, to conceal my agitation from him. +</p> +<p> +“And so,” said I, at length regaining my composure in some measure, “Sir +George also spoke of my name in connection with the senhora?” +</p> +<p> +“To be sure he did. All Lisbon does. What can you mean? But I see, my dear +boy; you know you are not of the strongest, and we’ve been talking far too +long. Come now, Charley, I’ll say good-night. I’ll be with you at +breakfast to-morrow, and tell you all the gossip; meanwhile promise me to +get quietly to bed, and so good-night.” +</p> +<p> +Such was the conflicting state of feeling I suffered from that I made no +effort to detain Power. I longed to be once more alone, to think, calmly +if I could, over the position I stood in, and to resolve upon my plans for +the future. +</p> +<p> +My love for Lucy Dashwood had been long rather a devotion than a hope. My +earliest dawn of manly ambition was associated with the first hour I met +her. She it was who first touched my boyish heart, and suggested a sense +of chivalrous ardor within me; and even though lost to me forever, I could +still regard her as the mainspring of my actions, and dwell upon my +passion as the thing that hallowed every enterprise of my life. +</p> +<p> +In a word, my love, however little it might reach her heart, was +everything to mine. It was the worship of the devotee to his protecting +saint. It was the faith that made me rise above misfortune and mishap, and +led me onward; and in this way I could have borne anything, everything, +rather than the imputation of fickleness. +</p> +<p> +Lucy might not—nay, I felt she did not—love me. It was +possible that some other was preferred before me; but to doubt my own +affection, to suspect my own truth, was to destroy all the charm of my +existence, and to extinguish within me forever the enthusiasm that made me +a hero to my own heart. +</p> +<p> +It may seem but poor philosophy; but alas, how many of our happiest, how +many of our brightest thoughts here are but delusions like this! The +dayspring of youth gilds the tops of the distant mountains before us, and +many a weary day through life, when clouds and storms are thickening +around us, we live upon the mere memory of the past. Some fast-flitting +prospect of a bright future, some passing glimpse of a sunlit valley, +tinges all our after-years. +</p> +<p> +It is true that he will suffer fewer disappointments, he will incur fewer +of the mishaps of the world, who indulges in no fancies such as these; but +equally true is it that he will taste none of that exuberant happiness +which is that man’s portion who weaves out a story of his life, and who, +in connecting the promise of early years with the performance of later, +will seek to fulfil a fate and destiny. +</p> +<p> +Weaving such fancies, I fell sound asleep, nor woke before the stir and +bustle of the great city aroused me. Power, I found, had been twice at my +quarters that morning, but fearing to disturb me, had merely left a few +lines to say that, as he should be engaged on service during the day, we +could not meet before the evening. There were certain preliminaries +requisite regarding my leave which demanded my appearing before a board of +medical officers, and I immediately set about dressing; resolving that, as +soon as they were completed, I should, if permitted, retire to one of the +small cottages on the opposite bank of the Tagus, there to remain until my +restored health allowed me to rejoin my regiment. +</p> +<p> +I dreaded meeting the Dashwoods. I anticipated with a heavy heart how +effectually one passing interview would destroy all my day-dreams of +happiness, and I preferred anything to the sad conviction of hopelessness +such a meeting must lead to. +</p> +<p> +While I thus balanced with myself how to proceed, a gentle step came to +the door, and as it opened slowly, a servant in a dark livery entered. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, wondering to whom my arrival could be thus early known. +</p> +<p> +“Sir George Dashwood requests you will step over to him as soon as you go +out,” continued the man; “he is so engaged that he cannot leave home, but +is most desirous to see you.” +</p> +<p> +“It is not far from here?” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir; scarcely five minutes’ walk.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, if you will show me the way, I’ll follow you.” +</p> +<p> +I cast one passing glance at myself to see that all was right about my +costume, and sallied forth. +</p> +<p> +In the middle of the Black Horse Square, at the door of a large, +stone-fronted building, a group of military men were assembled, chatting +and laughing away together,—some reading the lately-arrived English +papers; others were lounging upon the stone parapet, carelessly puffing +their cigars. None of the faces were known to me; so threading my way +through the crowd, I reached the steps. Just as I did so, a half-muttered +whisper met my ear:— +</p> +<p> +“Who did you say?” +</p> +<p> +“O’Malley, the young Irishman who behaved so gallantly at the Douro.” +</p> +<p> +The blood rushed hotly to my cheek, my heart bounded with exultation; my +step, infirm and tottering but a moment before, became fixed and steady, +and I felt a thrill of proud enthusiasm playing through my veins. How +little did the speaker of those few and random words know what courage he +had given to a drooping heart, what renewed energy to a breaking spirit! +The voice of praise, too, coming from those to whom we had thought +ourselves unknown, has a magic about it that must be felt to be +understood. So it happened that in a few seconds a revolution had taken +place in all my thoughts and feelings, and I, who had left my quarters +dispirited and depressed, now walked confidently and proudly forward. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley, sir,” said the servant to the officer waiting, as we +entered the antechamber. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Mr. O’Malley,” said the aide-de-damp, in his blandest accent, “I hope +you’re better. Sir George is most anxious to see you; he is at present +engaged with the staff—” +</p> +<p> +A bell rang at that moment, and cut short the sentence; he flew to the +door of the inner room, and returning in an instant, said,— +</p> +<p> +“Will you follow me? This way, if you please.” +</p> +<p> +The room was crowded with general officers and aides-de-camp, so that for +a second or two I could not distinguish the parties; but no sooner was my +name announced, than Sir George Dashwood, forcing his way through, rushed +forward to meet me. +</p> +<p> +“O’Malley, my brave fellow, delighted to shake your hand again! How much +grown you are,—twice the man I knew you; and the arm, too, is it +getting on well?” +</p> +<p> +Scarcely giving me a moment to reply, and still holding my hand tightly in +his grasp, he introduced me on every side. +</p> +<p> +“My young Irish friend, Sir Edward, the man of the Douro. My Lord, allow +me to present Lieutenant O’Malley, of the Fourteenth.” +</p> +<p> +“A very dashing thing, that of yours, sir, at Ciudad Rodrigo.” +</p> +<p> +“A very senseless one, I fear, my Lord.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no, I don’t agree with you at all; even when no great results follow, +the <i>morale</i> of an army benefits by acts of daring.” +</p> +<p> +A running fire of kind and civil speeches poured in on me from all +quarters, and amidst all that crowd of bronzed and war-worn veterans, I +felt myself the lion of the moment. Crawfurd, it appeared, had spoken most +handsomely of my name, and I was thus made known to many of those whose +own reputations were then extending over Europe. +</p> +<p> +In this happy trance of excited pleasure I passed the morning. Amidst the +military chit-chat of the day around me, treated as an equal by the +greatest and the most distinguished, I heard all the confidential opinions +upon the campaign and its leaders; and in that most entrancing of all +flatteries,—the easy tone of companionship of our elders and +betters,—forgot my griefs, and half believed I was destined for +great things. +</p> +<p> +Fearing, at length, that I had prolonged my visit too far, I approached +Sir George to take my leave, when, drawing my arm within his, he retired +towards one of the windows. +</p> +<p> +“A word, O’Malley, before you go. I’ve arranged a little plan for you; +mind, I shall insist upon obedience. They’ll make some difficulty about +your remaining here, so that I have appointed you one of our extra +aides-de-camp. That will free you from all trouble, and I shall not be +very exacting in my demands upon you. You must, however, commence your +duties to-day, and as we dine at seven precisely, I shall expect you. I am +aware of your wish to stay in Lisbon, my boy, and if all I hear be true, +congratulate you sincerely; but more of this another time, and so +good-by.” So saying, he shook my hand once more, warmly; and without well +feeling how or why, I found myself in the street. +</p> +<p> +The last few words Sir George had spoken threw a gloom over all my +thoughts. I saw at once that the report Power had alluded to had gained +currency at Lisbon. Sir George believed it; doubtless, Lucy, too; and +forgetting in an instant all the emulative ardor that so lately stirred my +heart, I took my path beside the river, and sauntered slowly along, lost +in my reflections. +</p> +<p> +I had walked for above an hour before paying any attention to the path I +followed. Mechanically, as it were, retreating from the noise and +tumult-of the city, I wandered towards the country. My thoughts fixed but +upon one theme, I had neither ears nor eyes for aught around me; the great +difficulty of my present position now appearing to me in this light,—my +attachment to Lucy Dashwood, unrequited and unreturned as I felt it, did +not permit of my rebutting any report which might have reached her +concerning Donna Inez. I had no right, no claim to suppose her +sufficiently interested about me to listen to such an explanation, had I +even the opportunity to make it. One thing was thus clear to me,—all +my hopes had ended in that quarter; and as this conclusion sank into my +mind, a species of dogged resolution to brave my fortune crept upon me, +which only waited the first moment of my meeting her to overthrow and +destroy forever. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile I walked on,—now rapidly, as some momentary rush of +passionate excitement, now slowly, as some depressing and gloomy notion +succeeded; when suddenly my path was arrested by a long file of bullock +cars which blocked up the way. Some chance squabble had arisen among the +drivers, and to avoid the crowd and collision, I turned into a gateway +which opened beside me, and soon found myself in a lawn handsomely planted +and adorned with flowering shrubs and ornamental trees. +</p> +<p> +In the half-dreamy state my musings had brought me to, I struggled to +recollect why the aspect of the place did not seem altogether new. My +thoughts were, however, far away,—now blending some memory of my +distant home with scenes of battle and bloodshed, or resting upon my first +interview with her whose chance word, carelessly and lightly spoken, had +written the story of my life. From this revery I was rudely awakened by a +rustling noise in the trees behind me, and before I could turn my head, +the two fore-paws of a large stag-hound were planted upon my shoulders, +while the open mouth and panting tongue were close beside my face. My +day-dream was dispelled quick as lightning; it was Juan, himself, the +favorite dog of the senhora, who gave me this rude welcome, and who now, +by a thousand wild gestures and bounding caresses, seemed to do the honors +of his house. There was something so like home in these joyful greetings +that I yielded myself at once his prisoner, and followed, or rather was +accompanied by him towards the villa. +</p> +<p> +Of course, sooner or later, I should have called upon my kind friends; +then why not now, when chance has already brought me so near? Besides, if +I held to my resolution, which I meant to do,—of retiring to some +quiet and sequestered cottage till my health was restored,—the +opportunity might not readily present itself again. This line of argument +perfectly satisfied my reason; while a strong feeling of something like +curiosity piqued me to proceed, and before many minutes elapsed, I reached +the house. The door, as usual, lay wide open; and the ample hall, +furnished like a sitting-room, had its customary litter of books, music, +and flowers scattered upon the tables. My friend Juan, however, suffered +me not to linger here, but rushing furiously at a door before me, began a +vigorous attack for admittance. +</p> +<p> +As I knew this to be the drawing-room, I opened the door and walked in, +but no one was to be seen; a half-open book lay upon an ottoman, and a +fan, which I recognized as an old acquaintance, was beside it, but the +owner was absent. +</p> +<p> +I sat down, resolved to wait patiently for her coming, without any +announcement of my being there. I was not sorry, indeed, to have some +moments to collect my thoughts, and restore my erring faculties to +something like order. +</p> +<p> +As I looked about the room, it seemed as if I had been there but +yesterday. The folding-doors lay open to the garden, just as I had seen +them last; and save that the flowers seemed fewer, and those which +remained of a darker and more sombre tint, all seemed unchanged. There lay +the guitar to whose thrilling chords my heart had bounded; there, the +drawing over which I had bent in admiring pleasure, suggesting some tints +of light or shadow, as the fairy fingers traced them; every chair was +known to me, and I greeted them as things I cared for. +</p> +<p> +While thus I scanned each object around me, I was struck by a little china +vase which, unlike its other brethren, contained a bouquet of dead and +faded flowers; the blood rushed to my cheek; I started up; it was one I +had myself presented to her the day before we parted. It was in that same +vase I placed it; the very table, too, stood in the same position beside +that narrow window. What a rush of thoughts came pouring on me! And oh!—shall +I confess it?—how deeply did such a mute testimony of remembrance +speak to my heart, at the moment that I felt myself unloved and uncared +for by another! I walked hurriedly up and down, a maze of conflicting +resolves combating in my mind, while one thought ever recurred: “Would +that I had not come there!” and yet after all it may mean nothing; some +piece of passing coquetry which she will be the very first to laugh at. I +remembered how she spoke of poor Howard; what folly to take it otherwise! +“Be it so, then,” said I, half aloud; “and now for my part of the game;” +and with this I took from my pocket the light-blue scarf she had given me +the morning we parted, and throwing it over my shoulder, prepared to +perform my part in what I had fully persuaded myself to be a comedy. The +time, however, passed on, and she came not; a thousand high-flown +Portuguese phrases had time to be conned over again and again by me, and I +had abundant leisure to enact my coming part; but still the curtain did +not rise. As the day was wearing, I resolved at last to write a few lines, +expressive of my regret at not meeting her, and promising myself an early +opportunity of paying my respects under more fortunate circumstances. I +sat down accordingly, and drawing the paper towards me, began in a mixture +of French and Portuguese, as it happened, to indite my billet. +</p> +<p> +“Senhora Inez—” no—“Ma chère Mademoiselle Inez—” +confound it, that’s too intimate; well, here goes: “Monsieur O’Malley +presente ses respects—” that will never do; and then, after twenty +other abortive attempts, I began thoughtlessly sketching heads upon the +paper, and scribbling with wonderful facility in fifty different ways: “Ma +charmante amie—Ma plus chère Inez,” etc., and in this most useful +and profitable occupation did I pass another half-hour. +</p> +<p> +How long I should have persisted in such an employment it is difficult to +say, had not an incident intervened which suddenly but most effectually +put an end to it. As the circumstance is one which, however little +striking in itself, had the greatest and most lasting influence upon my +future career, I shall, perhaps, be excused in devoting another chapter to +its recital. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER X. +</h2> +<p> +A PLEASANT PREDICAMENT. +</p> +<p> +As I sat vainly endeavoring to fix upon some suitable and appropriate +epithet by which to commence my note, my back was turned towards the door +of the garden; and so occupied was I in my meditations, that even had any +one entered at the time, in all probability I should not have perceived +it. At length, however, I was aroused from my study by a burst of +laughter, whose girlish joyousness was not quite new to me. I knew it +well; it was the senhora herself; and the next moment I heard her voice. +</p> +<p> +“I tell you, I’m quite certain I saw his face in the mirror as I passed. +Oh, how delightful! and you’ll be charmed with him; so, mind, you must not +steal him from me; I shall never forgive you if you do; and look, only +look! he has got the blue scarf I gave him when he marched to the Douro.” +</p> +<p> +While I perceived that I was myself seen, I could see nothing of the +speaker, and wishing to hear something further, appeared more than ever +occupied in the writing before me. +</p> +<p> +What her companion replied I could not, however, catch, but only guess at +its import by the senhora’s answer. “<i>Fi done!</i>—I really am +very fond of him; but, never fear, I shall be as stately as a queen. You +shall see how meekly he will kiss my hand, and with what unbending reserve +I’ll receive him.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” thought I; “mayhap, I’ll mar your plot a little; but let us +listen.” +</p> +<p> +Again her friend spoke, but too low to be heard. +</p> +<p> +“It is so provoking,” continued Inez; “I never can remember names, and his +was something too absurd; but never mind, I shall make him a grandee of +Portugal. Well, but come along, I long to present him to you.” +</p> +<p> +Here a gentle struggle seemed to ensue; for I heard the senhora coaxingly +entreat her, while her companion steadily resisted. +</p> +<p> +“I know very well you think I shall be so silly, and perhaps wrong; eh, is +it not so? but you are quite mistaken. You’ll be surprised at my cold and +dignified manner. I shall draw myself proudly up, thus, and curtsying +deeply, say, ‘Monsieur, j’ai l’honneur de vous saluer.’” +</p> +<p> +A laugh twice as mirthful as before interrupted her account of herself, +while I could hear the tones of her friend evidently in expostulation. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0083.jpg" style="width:100%;" +alt="O’malley Following the Custom of his Country. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Well, then, to be sure, you are provoking, but you really promise to +follow me. Be it so; then give me that moss-rose. How you have fluttered +me; now for it!” +</p> +<p> +So saying, I heard her foot upon the gravel, and the next instant upon the +marble step of the door. There is something in expectation that sets the +heart beating, and mine throbbed against my side. I waited, however, till +she entered, before lifting my head, and then springing suddenly up, with +one bound clasped her in my arms, and pressing my lips upon her roseate +cheek, said,— +</p> +<p> +“<i>Mar charmante amie!</i>” To disengage herself from me, and to spring +suddenly back was her first effort; to burst into an immoderate fit of +laughing, her second; her cheek was, however, covered with a deep blush, +and I already repented that my malice had gone so far. +</p> +<p> +“Pardon, Mademoiselle,” said I, in affected innocence, “if I have so far +forgotten myself as to assume a habit of my own country to a stranger.” +</p> +<p> +A half-angry toss of the head was her only reply, and turning towards the +garden, she called to her friend:— +</p> +<p> +“Come here, dearest, and instruct my ignorance upon your national customs; +but first let me present to you,—never know his name,—the +Chevalier de ——What is it?” +</p> +<p> +The glass door opened as she spoke; a tall and graceful figure entered, +and turning suddenly round, showed me the features of Lucy Dashwood. We +both stood opposite each other, each mute with amazement. <i>My</i> +feelings let me not attempt to convey; shame, for the first moment +stronger than aught else, sent the blood rushing to my face and temples, +and the next I was cold and pale as death. As for her, I cannot guess at +what passed in her mind. She curtsied deeply to me, and with a half-smile +of scarce recognition passed by me, and walked towards a window. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Comme vous êtes amiable!</i>” said the lively Portuguese, who +comprehended little of this dumb show; “here have I been flattering myself +what friends you’d be the very moment you meet, and now you’ll not even +look at each other.” +</p> +<p> +What was to be done? The situation was every instant growing more and more +embarrassing; nothing but downright effrontery could get through with it +now; and never did a man’s heart more fail him than did mine at this +conjuncture. I made the’ effort, however, and stammered out certain +unmeaning commonplaces. Inez replied, and I felt myself conversing with +the headlong recklessness of one marching to a scaffold, a coward’s fear +at his heart, while he essayed to seem careless and indifferent. +</p> +<p> +Anxious to reach what I esteemed safe ground, I gladly adverted to the +campaign; and at last, hurried on by the impulse to cover my +embarrassment, was describing some skirmish with a French outpost. Without +intending, I had succeeded in exciting the senhora’s interest, and she +listened with sparkling eye and parted lips to the description of a +sweeping charge in which a square was broken, and several prisoners +carried off. Warming with the eager avidity of her attention, I grew +myself more excited, when just as my narrative reached its climax, Miss +Dashwood walked gently towards the bell, rang it, and ordered her +carriage. The tone of perfect <i>nonchalance</i> of the whole proceeding +struck me dumb; I faltered, stammered, hesitated, and was silent. Donna +Inez turned from one to the other of us with a look of unfeigned +astonishment and I heard her mutter to herself something like a reflection +upon “national eccentricities.” Happily, however, her attention was now +exclusively turned towards her friend, and while assisting her to shawl, +and extorting innumerable promises of an early visit, I got a momentary +reprieve; the carriage drew up also, and as the gravel flew right and left +beneath the horses’ feet, the very noise and bustle relieved me. “<i>Adios</i>,” +then said Inez, as she kissed her for the last time, while she motioned to +me to escort her to her carriage. I advanced, stopped, made another step +forward, and again grew irresolute; but Miss Dashwood speedily terminated +the difficulty; for making me a formal curtsey, she declined my +scarce-proffered attention, and left the room. +</p> +<p> +As she did so, I perceived that on passing the table, her eyes fell upon +the paper I had been scribbling over so long, and I thought that for an +instant an expression of ineffable scorn seemed to pass across her +features, save which—and perhaps even in this I was mistaken—her +manner was perfectly calm, easy, and indifferent. +</p> +<p> +Scarce had the carriage rolled from the door, when the senhora, throwing +herself upon her chair, clapped her hands in childish ecstasy, while she +fell into a fit of laughing that I thought would never have an end. “Such +a scene!” cried she; “I would not have lost it for the world; what +cordiality! what <i>empressement</i> to form acquaintance! I shall never +forget it, Monsieur le Chevalier; your national customs seem to run sadly +in extremes. One would have thought you deadly enemies; and poor me, after +a thousand delightful plans about you both!” +</p> +<p> +As she ran on thus, scarce able to control her mirth at each sentence, I +walked the room with impatient strides, now, resolving to hasten after the +carriage, stop it, explain in a few words how all had happened, and then +fly from her forever; then the remembrance of her cold, impassive look +crossed me, and I thought that one bold leap into the Tagus might be the +shortest and easiest solution to all my miseries. Perfect abasement, +thorough self-contempt had broken all my courage, and I could have cried +like a child. What I said, or how I comforted myself after, I know not; +but my first consciousness came to me as I felt myself running at the top +of my speed far upon the road towards Lisbon. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XI. +</h2> +<p> +THE DINNER. +</p> +<p> +It may easily be imagined that I had little inclination to keep my promise +of dining that day with Sir George Dashwood. However, there was nothing +else for it; the die was cast,—my prospects as regarded Lucy were +ruined forever. We were not, we never could be anything to each other; and +as for me, the sooner I braved my altered fortunes the better; and after +all, why should I call them altered. She evidently never had cared for me; +and even supposing that my fervent declaration of attachment had +interested her, the apparent duplicity and falseness of my late conduct +could only fall the more heavily upon me. +</p> +<p> +I endeavored to philosophize myself into calmness and indifference. One by +one I exhausted every argument for my defence, which, however ingeniously +put forward, brought no comfort to my own conscience. I pleaded the +unerring devotion of my heart, the uprightness of my motives, and when +called on for the proofs,—alas! except the blue scarf I wore in +memory of another, and my absurd conduct at the villa, I had none. From +the current gossip of Lisbon, down to my own disgraceful folly, all, all +was against me. +</p> +<p> +Honesty of intention, rectitude of purpose, may be, doubtless they are, +admirable supports to a rightly constituted mind; but even then they must +come supported by such claims to probability as make the injured man feel +he has not lost the sympathy of all his fellows. Now, I had none of these, +had even my temperament, broken by sickness and harassed by unlucky +conjectures, permitted my appreciating them. +</p> +<p> +I endeavored to call my wounded pride to my aid, and thought over the +glance of haughty disdain she gave me as she passed on to her carriage; +but even this turned against me, and a humiliating sense of my own +degraded position sank deeply into my heart. “This impression at least,” +thought I, “must be effaced. I cannot permit her to believe—” +</p> +<p> +“His Excellency is waiting dinner, sir,” said a lackey, introducing a +finely powdered head gently within the door. I looked at my watch, it was +eight o’clock; so snatching my sabre, and shocked at my delay, I hastily +followed the servant down-stairs, and thus at once cut short my +deliberations. +</p> +<p> +The man must be but little observant or deeply sunk in his own reveries, +who, arriving half-an-hour too late for dinner, fails to detect in the +faces of the assembled and expectant guests a very palpable expression of +discontent and displeasure. It is truly a moment of awkwardness, and one +in which few are found to manage with success; the blushing, hesitating, +blundering apology of the absent man, is scarcely better than the +ill-affected surprise of the more practised offender. The bashfulness of +the one is as distasteful as the cool impertinence of the other; both are +so thoroughly out of place, for we are thinking of neither; our thoughts +are wandering to cold soups and rechaufféd pâtés, and we neither care for +nor estimate the cause, but satisfy our spleen by cursing the offender. +</p> +<p> +Happily for me I was clad in a triple insensibility to such feelings, and +with an air of most perfect unconstraint and composure walked into a +drawing-room where about twenty persons were busily discussing what +peculiar amiability in my character could compensate for my present +conduct. +</p> +<p> +“At last, O’Malley, at last!” said Sir George. “Why, my dear boy, how very +late you are!” +</p> +<p> +I muttered something about a long walk,—distance from Lisbon, etc. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! that was it. I was right, you see!” said an old lady in a spangled +turban, as she whispered something to her friend beside her, who appeared +excessively shocked at the information conveyed; while a fat, round-faced +little general, after eying me steadily through his glass, expressed a <i>sotto +voce</i> wish that I was upon <i>his</i> staff. I felt my cheek reddening +at the moment, and stared around me like one whose trials were becoming +downright insufferable, when happily dinner was announced, and terminated +my embarrassment. +</p> +<p> +As the party filed past, I perceived that Miss Dashwood was not among +them; and with a heart relieved for the moment by the circumstance, and +inventing a hundred conjectures to account for it, I followed with the +aides-de-camp and the staff to the dinner-room. +</p> +<p> +The temperament is very Irish, I believe, which renders a man so elastic +that from the extreme of depression to the very climax of high spirits, +there is but one spring. To this I myself plead guilty, and thus, scarcely +was I freed from the embarrassment which a meeting with Lucy Dashwood must +have caused, when my heart bounded with lightness. +</p> +<p> +When the ladies withdrew, the events of the campaign became the subject of +conversation, and upon these, very much to my astonishment, I found myself +consulted as an authority. The Douro, from some fortunate circumstance, +had given me a reputation I never dreamed of, and I heard my opinions +quoted upon topics of which my standing as an officer, and my rank in the +service, could not imply a very extended observation. Power was absent on +duty; and happily for my supremacy, the company consisted entirely of +generals in the commissariat or new arrivals from England, all of whom +knew still less than myself. +</p> +<p> +What will not iced champagne and flattery do? Singly, they are strong +impulses; combined, their power is irresistible. I now heard for the first +time that our great leader had been elevated to the peerage by the title +of Lord Wellington, and I sincerely believe—however now I may smile +at the confession—that, at the moment, I felt more elation at the +circumstance than he did. The glorious sensation of being in any way, no +matter how remotely, linked with the career of those whose path is a high +one, and whose destinies are cast for great events, thrilled through me; +and in all the warmth of my admiration and pride for our great captain, a +secret pleasure stirred within me as I whispered to myself, “And I, too, +am a soldier!” +</p> +<p> +I fear me that very little flattery is sufficient to turn the head of a +young man of eighteen; and if I yielded to the “pleasant incense,” let my +apology be that I was not used to it; and lastly, let me avow, if I did +get tipsy, I liked the liquor. And why not? It is the only tipple I know +of that leaves no headache the next morning to punish you for the glories +of the past night. It may, like all other strong potations, it is true, +induce you to make a fool of yourself when under its influence; but like +the nitrous-oxide gas, its effects are passing, and as the pleasure is an +ecstasy for the time, and your constitution none the worse when it is +over, I really see no harm in it. +</p> +<p> +Then the benefits are manifest; for while he who gives becomes never the +poorer for his benevolence, the receiver is made rich indeed. It matters +little that some dear, kind friend is ready with his bitter draught to +remedy what he is pleased to call its unwholesome sweetness; you betake +yourself with only the more pleasure to the “blessed elixir,” whose +fascinations neither the poverty of your pocket, nor the penury of your +brain, can withstand, and by the magic of whose spell you are great and +gifted. “<i>Vive la bagatelle!</i>” saith the Frenchman. “Long live +flattery!” say I, come from what quarter it will,—the only wealth of +the poor man, the only reward of the unknown one; the arm that supports us +in failure; the hand that crowns us in success; the comforter in our +affliction; the gay companion in our hours of pleasure; the lullaby of the +infant; the staff of old age; the secret treasure we lock up in our own +hearts, and which ever grows greater as we count it over. Let me not be +told that the coin is fictitious, and the gold not genuine; its clink is +as musical to the ear as though it bore the last impression of the mint, +and I’m not the man to cast an aspersion upon its value. +</p> +<p> +This little digression, however seemingly out of place, may serve to +illustrate what it might be difficult to convey in other words,—namely, +that if Charles O’Malley became, in his own estimation, a very +considerable personage that day at dinner, the fault lay not entirely with +himself, but with his friends, who told him he was such. In fact, my good +reader, I was the lion of the party, the man who saved Laborde, who +charged through a brigade of guns, who performed feats which newspapers +quoted, though he never heard of them himself. At no time is a man so +successful in society as when his reputation heralds him; and it needs but +little conversational eloquence to talk well, if you have but a willing +and ready auditory. Of mine, I could certainly not complain; and as, +drinking deeply, I poured forth a whole tide of campaigning recital, I saw +the old colonels of recruiting districts exchanging looks of wonder and +admiration with officers of the ordnance; while Sir George himself, +evidently pleased at my <i>début</i>, went back to an early period of our +acquaintance, and related the rescue of his daughter in Galway. +</p> +<p> +In an instant the whole current of my thoughts was changed. My first +meeting with Lucy, my boyhood’s dream of ambition, my plighted faith, my +thought of our last parting in Dublin, when, in a moment of excited +madness, I told my tale of love. I remembered her downcast look, as her +cheek now flushing, now growing pale, she trembled while I spoke. I +thought of her, as in the crash of battle her image flashed across my +brain, and made me feel a rush of chivalrous enthusiasm to win her heart +by “doughty deeds.” +</p> +<p> +I forgot all around and about me. My head reeled, the wine, the +excitement, my long previous illness, all pressed upon me; and as my +temples throbbed loudly and painfully, a chaotic rush of discordant, +ill-connected ideas flitted across my mind. There seemed some stir and +confusion in the room, but why or wherefore I could not think, nor could I +recall my scattered senses, till Sir George Dashwood’s voice roused me +once again to consciousness. +</p> +<p> +“We are going to have some coffee, O’Malley. Miss Dashwood expects us in +the drawing-room. You have not seen her yet?” +</p> +<p> +I know not my reply; but he continued:— +</p> +<p> +“She has some letters for you, I think.” +</p> +<p> +I muttered something, and suffered him to pass on; no sooner had he done +so, however, than I turned towards the door, and rushed into the street. +The cold night air suddenly recalled me to myself, and I stood for a +moment endeavoring to collect myself; as I did so, a servant stopped, and +saluting me, presented me with a letter. For a second, a cold chill came +over me; I knew not what fear beset me. The letter, I at last remembered, +must be that one alluded to by Sir George, so I took it in silence, and +walked on. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XII. +</h2> +<p> +THE LETTER. +</p> +<p> +As I hurried to my quarters, I made a hundred guesses from whom the letter +could have come; a kind of presentiment told me that it bore, in some +measure, upon the present crisis of my life, and I burned with anxiety to +read it. +</p> +<p> +No sooner had I reached the light, than all my hopes on this head +vanished; the envelope bore the well-known name of my old college chum, +Frank Webber, and none could, at the moment, have more completely +dispelled all chance of interesting me. I threw it from me with +disappointment, and sat moodily down to brood over my fate. +</p> +<p> +At length, however, and almost without knowing it, I drew the lamp towards +me, and broke the seal. The reader being already acquainted with my +amiable friend, there is the less indiscretion in communicating the +contents, which ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN, No. 2, + +October 5, 1810. + +My Dear O’Malley,—Nothing short of your death and burial, +with or without military honors, can possibly excuse your very +disgraceful neglect of your old friends here. Nesbitt has never +heard of you, neither has Smith. Ottley swears never to have seen +your handwriting, save on the back of a protested bill. You have +totally forgotten <i>me</i>, and the dean informs me that you have never +condescended a single line to him; which latter inquiry on my part +nearly cost me a rustication. + +A hundred conjectures to account for your silence—a new feature +in you since you were here—are afloat. Some assert that your +soldiering has turned your head, and that you are above corresponding +with civilians. Your friends, however, who know you better and +value your worth, think otherwise; and having seen a paragraph +about a certain O’Malley being tried by court-martial for stealing a +goose, and maltreating the woman that owned it, ascribe your not +writing to other motives. Do, in any case, relieve our minds; say, +is it yourself, or only a relative that’s mentioned? +Herbert came over from London with a long story about your +doing wonderful things,—capturing cannon and general officers by +scores,—but devil a word of it is extant; and if you have really +committed these acts, they have “misused the king’s press damnably,” +for neither in the “Times” nor the “Post” are you heard of. +Answer this point, and say also if you have got promotion; for what +precise sign you are algebraically expressed by at this writing, may +serve Fitzgerald for a fellowship question. As for us, we are jogging +along, <i>semper eadem</i>,—that is, worse and worse. Dear Cecil +Cavendish, our gifted friend, slight of limb and soft of voice, has +been rusticated for immersing four bricklayers in that green +receptacle of stagnant water and duckweed, yeleped the “Haha.” +Roper, equally unlucky, has taken to reading for honors, and obtained +a medal, I fancy,—at least his friends shy him, and it must be +something of that kind. Belson—poor Belson (fortunately for him he +was born in the nineteenth, not the sixteenth century, or he’d be most +likely ornamenting a pile of fagots) ventured upon some stray +excursions into the Hebrew verbs,—the professor himself never having +transgressed beyond the declensions, and the consequence is, he is +in disgrace among the seniors. And as for me, a heavy charge hangs +over my devoted head even while I write. The senior lecturer, it +appears, has been for some time instituting some very singular +researches into the original state of our goodly college at its +founding. Plans and specifications showing its extent and magnificence +have been continually before the board for the last month; and in such +repute have been a smashed door-sill or an old arch, that freshmen +have now abandoned conic sections for crowbars, and instead of the +“Principia” have taken up the pickaxe. You know, my dear fellow, +with what enthusiasm I enter into any scheme for the aggrandizement +of our Alma Mater, so I need not tell you how ardently I +adventured into the career now opened to me. My time was completely +devoted to the matter; neither means nor health did I spare, +and in my search for antiquarian lore, I have actually undermined +the old wall of the fellows’ garden, and am each morning in expectation +of hearing that the big bell near the commons-hall has descended +from its lofty and most noisy eminence, and is snugly reposing in +the mud. Meanwhile accident put me in possession of a most +singular and remarkable discovery. Our chambers—I call them +ours for old association sake—are, you may remember, in the Old +Square. Well, I have been fortunate enough, within the very precincts +of my own dwelling, to contribute a very wonderful fact to the +history of the University; alone, unassisted, unaided, I labored +at my discovery. Few can estimate the pleasure I felt, the fame +and reputation I anticipated. I drew up a little memoir for the +board, most respectfully and civilly worded, having for title the +following:— + +ACCOUNT +Of a remarkable Subterranean Passage lately discovered in the +Old Building of Trinity College, Dublin; +With Observations upon its Extent, Antiquity, and Probable Use. +By F. WEBBER, Senior Freshman. + +My dear O’Malley, I’ll not dwell upon the pride I felt in my new +character of antiquarian; it is enough to state, that my very +remarkable tract was well considered and received, and a commission +appointed to investigate the discovery, consisting of the +vice-provost, the senior lecturer, old Woodhouse, the sub-dean, and +a few more. + +On Tuesday last they came accordingly in full academic costume. +I, being habited most accurately in the like manner, conducted +them with all form into my bed-room, where a large screen concealed +from view the entrance to the tunnel alluded to. Assuming a very +John Kembleish attitude, I struck this down with one hand, pointing +with the other to the wall, as I exclaimed, “There! look +there!” + +I need only quote Barret’s exclamation to enlighten you upon my +discovery as, drawing in his breath with a strong effort, he burst +out:— + +“May the Devil admire me, but it’s a rat-hole!” + +I fear, Charley, he’s right, and what’s more, that the board will +think so, for this moment a very warm discussion is going on among +that amiable and learned body whether I shall any longer remain an +ornament to the University. In fact, the terror with which they +fled from my chambers, overturning each other in the passage, +seemed to imply that they thought me mad, and I do believe my +voice, look, and attitude would not have disgraced a blue cotton +dressing-gown and a cell in “Swift’s.” Be this as it may, few men +have done more for college than I have. The sun never stood still +for Joshua with more resolution than I have rested in my career of +freshman; and if I have contributed little to the fame, I have done +much for the funds of the University; and when they come to compute +the various sums I have paid in, for fines, penalties, and what +they call properly “impositions,” if they don’t place a portrait of me +in the examination hall, between Archbishop Ussher and Flood, then +do I say there is no gratitude in mankind; not to mention the impulse +I have given to the various artisans whose business it is to +repair lamps, windows, chimneys, iron railings, and watchmen, all +of which I have devoted myself to with an enthusiasm for political +economy well known, and registered in the College Street police-office. + +After all, Charley, I miss you greatly. Your second in a ballad is +not to be replaced; besides, Carlisle Bridge has got low; medical +students and young attorneys affect minstrelsy, and actually frequent +the haunts sacred to our muse. + +Dublin is, upon the whole, I think, worse; though one scarcely +ever gets tired laughing at the small celebrities— +</pre> +<p> +Master Frank gets here indiscreet, so I shall skip. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +And so the Dashwoods are going too; this will make mine a +pitiable condition, for I really did begin to feel tender in that +quarter. You may have heard that she refused me; this, however, is not +correct, though I have little doubt it might have been,—had I +asked her. + +Hammersley has, you know, got his dismissal. I wonder how the +poor fellow took it when Power gave him back his letters and his +picture. How <i>you</i> are to be treated remains to be seen; in any +case, you certainly stand first favorite. +</pre> +<p> +I laid down the letter at this passage, unable to read farther. Here, +then, was the solution of the whole chaos of mystery; here the full +explanation of what had puzzled my aching brain for many a night long. +These were the very letters I had myself delivered into Hammersley’s +hands; this the picture he had trodden to dust beneath his heel the +morning of our meeting. I now felt the reason of his taunting allusion to +my “success,” his cutting sarcasm, his intemperate passion. A flood of +light poured at once across all the dark passages of my history; and Lucy, +too,—dare I think of her! A rapid thought shot through my brain. +What if she had really cared for me! What if for me she had rejected +another’s love! What if, trusting to my faith, my pledged and sworn faith, +she had given me her heart! Oh, the bitter agony of that thought! To think +that all my hopes were shipwrecked with the very land in sight. +</p> +<p> +I sprang to my feet with some sudden impulse, but as I did so the blood +rushed madly to my face and temples, which beat violently; a parched and +swollen feeling came about my throat; I endeavored to open my collar and +undo my stock, but my disabled arm prevented me. I tried to call my +servant, but my utterance was thick and my words would not come; a +frightful suspicion crossed me that my reason was tottering. I made +towards the door; but as I did so, the objects around me became confused +and mingled, my limbs trembled, and I fell heavily upon the floor. A pang +of dreadful pain shot through me as I fell; my arm was rebroken. After +this I knew no more; all the accumulated excitement of the evening bore +down with one fell swoop upon my brain. Ere day broke, I was delirious. +</p> +<p> +I have a vague and indistinct remembrance of hurried and anxious faces +around my bed, of whispered words and sorrowful looks; but my own thoughts +careered over the bold hills of the far west as I trod them in my boyhood, +free and high of heart, or recurred to the din and crash of the +battle-field, with the mad bounding of the war-horse, and the loud clang +of the trumpet. Perhaps the acute pain of my swollen and suffering arm +gave the character to my mental aberration; for I have more than once +observed among the wounded in battle, that even when torn and mangled by +grape from a howitzer, their ravings have partaken of a high feature of +enthusiasm,—shouts of triumph and exclamations of pleasure, even +songs have I heard, but never once the low muttering of despair or the +half-stifled cry of sorrow and affliction. +</p> +<p> +Such were the few gleams of consciousness which visited me; and even to +such as these I soon became insensible. +</p> +<p> +Few like to chronicle, fewer still to read, the sad history of a sick-bed. +Of mine, I know but little. The throbbing pulses of the erring brain, the +wild fancies of lunacy, take no note of time. There is no past nor future; +a dreadful present, full of its hurried and confused impressions, is all +that the mind beholds; and even when some gleams of returning reason flash +upon the mad confusion of the brain, they come like sunbeams through a +cloud, dimmed, darkened, and perverted. +</p> +<p> +It is the restless activity of the mind in fever that constitutes its most +painful anguish; the fast-flitting thoughts that rush ever onwards, +crowding sensation on sensation, an endless train of exciting images +without purpose or repose; or even worse, the straining effort to pursue +some vague and shadowy conception which evades us ever as we follow, but +which mingles with all around and about us, haunting us at midnight as in +the noontime. Of this nature was a vision which came constantly before me, +till at length, by its very recurrence, it assumed a kind of real and +palpable existence; and as I watched it, my heart thrilled with the high +ardor of enthusiasm and delight, or sunk into the dark abyss of sorrow and +despair. “The dawning of morning, the daylight sinking,” brought no other +image to my aching sight; and of this alone, of all the impressions of the +period, has my mind retained any consciousness. +</p> +<p> +Methought I stood within an old and venerable cathedral, where the dim +yellow light fell with a rich but solemn glow upon the fretted capitals, +or the grotesque tracings of the oaken carvings, lighting up the fading +gildings of the stately monuments, and tinting the varied hues of +time-worn banners. The mellow notes of a deep organ filled the air, and +seemed to attune the sense to all the awe and reverence of the place, +where the very footfall, magnified by its many echoes, seemed half a +profanation. I stood before an altar, beside me a young and lovely girl, +whose bright brown tresses waved in loose masses upon a neck of snowy +whiteness; her hand, cold and pale, rested within my own; we knelt +together, not in prayer, but a feeling of deep reverence stole over my +heart, as she repeated some few half-uttered words after me; I knew that +she was mine. Oh, the ecstasy of that moment, as, springing to my feet, I +darted forward to press her to my heart! When, suddenly, an arm was +interposed between us, while a low but solemn voice rang in my ears, “Stir +not; for thou art false and traitorous, thy vow a perjury, and thy heart a +lie!” Slowly and silently the fair form of my loved Lucy—for it was +her—receded from my sight. One look, one last look of sorrow—it +was scarce reproach—fell upon me, and I sank back upon the cold +pavement, broken-hearted and forsaken. +</p> +<p> +This dream came with daybreak, and with the calm repose of evening; the +still hours of the waking night brought no other image to my eyes, and +when its sad influence had spread a gloom and desolation over my wounded +heart, a secret hope crept over me, that again the bright moment of +happiness would return, and once more beside that ancient altar I’d kneel +beside my bride, and call her mine. +</p> +<p> +For the rest, my memory retains but little; the kind looks which came +around my bedside brought but a brief pleasure, for in their affectionate +beaming I could read the gloomy prestige of my fate. The hurried but +cautious step, the whispered sentences, the averted gaze of those who +sorrowed for me, sunk far deeper into my heart than my friends then +thought of. Little do they think, who minister to the sick or dying, how +each passing word, each flitting glance is noted, and how the pale and +stilly figure which lies all but lifeless before them counts over the +hours he has to live by the smiles or tears around him! +</p> +<p> +Hours, days, weeks rolled over, and still my fate hung in the balance; and +while in the wild enthusiasm of my erring faculties, I wandered far in +spirit from my bed of suffering and pain, some well-remembered voice +beside me would strike upon my ear, bringing me back, as if by magic, to +all the realities of life, and investing my almost unconscious state with +all the hopes and fears about me. +</p> +<p> +One by one, at length, these fancies fled from me, and to the delirium of +fever succeeded the sad and helpless consciousness of illness, far, far +more depressing; for as the conviction of sense came back, the sorrowful +aspect of a dreary future came with it. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIII. +</h2> +<p> +THE VILLA. +</p> +<p> +The gentle twilight of an autumnal evening, calm, serene, and mellow, was +falling as I opened my eyes to consciousness of life and being, and looked +around me. I lay in a large and handsomely-furnished apartment, in which +the hand of taste was as evident in all the decorations as the unsparing +employment of wealth; the silk draperies of my bed, the inlaid tables, the +ormolu ornaments which glittered upon the chimney, were one by one so many +puzzles to my erring senses, and I opened and shut my eyes again and +again, and essayed by every means in my power to ascertain if they were +not the visionary creations of a fevered mind. I stretched out my hands to +feel the objects; and even while holding the freshly-plucked flowers in my +grasp I could scarce persuade myself that they were real. A thrill of pain +at this instant recalled me to other thoughts, and I turned my eyes upon +my wounded arm, which, swollen and stiffened, lay motionless beside me. +Gradually, my memory came back, and to my weak faculties some passages of +my former life were presented, not collectedly it is true, nor in any +order, but scattered, isolated scenes. While such thoughts flew past, my +ever-rising question to myself was, “Where am I now?” The vague feeling +which illness leaves upon the mind, whispered to me of kind looks and soft +voices; and I had a dreamy consciousness about me of being watched and +cared for, but wherefore, or by whom, I knew not. +</p> +<p> +From a partly open door which led into a garden, a mild and balmy air +fanned my temples and soothed my heated brow; and as the light curtain +waved to and fro with the breeze, the odor of the rose and the orange-tree +filled the apartment. +</p> +<p> +There is something in the feeling of weakness which succeeds to long +illness of the most delicious and refined enjoyment. The spirit emerging +as it were from the thraldom of its grosser prison, rises high and +triumphant above the meaner thoughts and more petty ambitions of daily +life. Purer feelings, more ennobling hopes succeed; and dreams of our +childhood, mingling with our promises for the future, make up an ideal +existence in which the low passions and cares of ordinary life enter not +or are forgotten. ‘Tis then we learn to hold converse with ourselves; ‘tis +then we ask how has our manhood performed the promises of its youth, or +have our ripened prospects borne out the pledges of our boyhood? ‘Tis +then, in the calm justice of our lonely hearts, we learn how our failures +are but another name for our faults, and that what we looked on as the +vicissitudes of fortune are but the fruits of our own vices. Alas, how +short-lived are such intervals! Like the fitful sunshine in the wintry +sky, they throw one bright and joyous tint over the dark landscape: for a +moment the valley and the mountain-top are bathed in a ruddy glow; the +leafless tree and the dark moss seem to feel a touch of spring; but the +next instant it is past; the lowering clouds and dark shadows intervene, +and the cold blast, the moaning wind, and the dreary waste are once more +before us. +</p> +<p> +I endeavored to recall the latest events of my career, but in vain; the +real and the visionary were inextricably mingled, and the scenes of my +campaigns were blended with hopes and fears and doubts which had no +existence save in my dreams. My curiosity to know where I was grew now my +strongest feeling, and I raised myself with one arm to look around me. In +the room all was still and silent, but nothing seemed to intimate what I +sought for. As I looked, however, the wind blew back the curtain which +half-concealed the sash-door, and disclosed to me the figure of a man +seated at a table; his back was towards me, but his broad sombrero hat and +brown mantle bespoke his nation; the light blue curl of smoke which +wreathed gently upwards, and the ample display of long-necked, +straw-wrapped flasks, also attested that he was enjoying himself with true +Peninsular gusto, having probably partaken of a long siesta. +</p> +<p> +It was a perfect picture in its way of the indolent luxury of the South,—the +rich and perfumed flowers, half-closing to the night air, but sighing +forth a perfumed <i>buonas noches</i> as they betook themselves to rest; +the slender shadows of the tall shrubs, stretching motionless across the +walks; the very attitude of the figure himself was in keeping as supported +by easy chairs he lounged at full length, raising his head ever and anon +as if to watch the wreath of eddying smoke as it rose upwards from his +cigar and melted away in the distance. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0102.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Mr. Free Turned Spaniard. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Yes”, thought I, as I looked for some time, “such is the very type of his +nation. Surrounded by every luxury of climate, blessed with all that earth +can offer of its best and fairest, and yet only using such gifts as mere +sensual gratifications.” Starting with this theme, I wove a whole story +for the unknown personage whom, in my wandering fancy, I began by creating +a grandee of Portugal, invested with rank honors, and riches; but who, +effeminated by the habits and usages of his country, had become the mere +idle voluptuary, living a life of easy and inglorious indolence. My +further musings were interrupted at this moment for the individual to whom +I had been so complimentary in my revery, slowly arose from his recumbent +position, flung his loose mantle carelessly across his left shoulder, and +pushing open the sash-door, entered my chamber. Directing his steps to a +large mirror, he stood for some minutes contemplating himself with what, +from his attitude, I judged to be no small satisfaction. Though his back +was still towards me, and the dim twilight of the room too uncertain to +see much, yet I could perceive that he was evidently admiring himself in +the glass. Of this fact I had soon the most complete proof; for as I +looked, he slowly raised his broad-leafed Spanish hat with an air of most +imposing pretension, and bowed reverently to himself. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Come sta vostra senoria?</i>” said he. +</p> +<p> +The whole gesture and style of this proceeding struck me as so ridiculous, +that in spite of all my efforts I could scarcely repress a laugh. He +turned quickly round and approached the bed. The deep shadow of the +sombrero darkened the upper part of his features, but I could distinguish +a pair of fierce-looking mustaches beneath, which curled upwards towards +his eyes, while a stiff point beard stuck straight from his chin. Fearing +lest my rude interruption had been overheard, I was framing some polite +speech in Portuguese, when he opened the dialogue by asking in that +language how I did. +</p> +<p> +I replied, and was about to ask some questions relative to where, and +under whose protection I then was, when my grave-looking friend, giving a +pirouette upon one leg, sent his hat flying into the air, and cried out in +a voice that not even my memory could fail to recognize,— +</p> +<p> +“By the rock of Cashel he’s cured!—he’s cured!—the fever’s +over! Oh, Master Charles, dear! oh, Master, darling, and you ain’t mad, +after all?” +</p> +<p> +“Mad! no, faith! but I shrewdly suspect you must be.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, devil a taste! But spake to me, honey; spake to me, acushla!” +</p> +<p> +“Where am I? Whose house is this? What do you mean by that disguise, that +beard—” +</p> +<p> +“Whisht, I’ll tell you all, av you have patience? But are you cured? Tell +me that first. Sure they was going to cut the arm off you, till you got +out of bed, and with your pistols, sent them flying, one out of the window +and the other down-stairs; and I bate the little chap with the saw myself +till he couldn’t know himself in the glass.” +</p> +<p> +While Mike ran on at this rate, I never took my eyes from him, and it was +all my poor faculties were equal to, to convince myself that the whole +scene was not some vision of a wandering intellect. Gradually, however, +the well-known features recalled me to myself, and as my doubts gave way +at length, I laughed long and heartily at the masquerade absurdity of his +appearance. +</p> +<p> +Mike, meanwhile, whose face expressed no small mistrust at the sincerity +of my mirth, having uncloaked himself, proceeded to lay aside his beard +and mustaches, saying, as he did so,— +</p> +<p> +“There now, darling; there now, Master, dear,—don’t be grinning that +way,—I’ll not be a Portigee any more, av you’ll be quiet and listen +to reason.” +</p> +<p> +“But, Mike, where am I? Answer me that one question.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re at home, dear; where else would you be?” +</p> +<p> +“At home?” said I, with a start, as my eye ranged over the various +articles of luxury and elegance around, so unlike the more simple and +unpretending features of my uncle’s house,—“at home?” +</p> +<p> +“Ay, just so; sure, isn’t it the same thing. It’s ould Don Emanuel that +owns it; and won’t it be your own when you’re married to that lovely +crayture herself?” +</p> +<p> +I started up, and placing my hand upon my throbbing temples, asked myself +if I were really awake, or if some flight of fancy had not carried me away +beyond the bounds of reason and sense. “Go on, go on!” said I, at length, +in a hollow voice, anxious to gather from his words something like a clew +to this mystery. “How did this happen?” +</p> +<p> +“Av ye mean how you came here, faith, it was just this way. After you got +the fever, and beat the doctors, devil a one would go near you but myself +and the major.” +</p> +<p> +“The major,—Major Monsoon?” +</p> +<p> +“No, Major Power himself. Well, he told your friends up here how it was +going very hard with you, and that you were like to die; and the same +evening they sent down a beautiful litter, as like a hearse as two peas, +for you, and brought you up here in state,—devil a thing was wanting +but a few people to raise the cry to make it as fine a funeral as ever I +seen. And sure, I set up a whillilew myself in the Black Horse Square, and +the devils only laughed at me. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you see they put you into a beautiful, elegant bed, and the young +lady herself sat down beside you, betune times fanning you with a big fan, +and then drying her eyes, for she was weeping like a waterfall. ‘Don +Miguel,’ says she to me,—for ye see, I put your cloak on by mistake +when I was leaving the quarters,—‘Don Miguel, questa hidalgo é +vostro amigo?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘My most particular friend,’ says I; ‘God spare him many years to be so.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Then take up your quarters here,’ says she, ‘and don’t leave him; we’ll +do everything in our power to make you comfortable.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m not particular,’ says I; ‘the run of the house—’ +</p> +<p> +“Then this is the Villa Nuova?” said I, with a faint sigh. +</p> +<p> +“The same,” replied Mike; “and a sweet place it is for eating and +drinking,—for wine in buckets full, av ye axed for it, for dancing +and singing every evening, with as pretty craytures as ever I set eyes +upon. Upon my conscience, it’s as good as Galway; and good manners it is +they have. What’s more, none of your liberties or familiarities with +strangers; but it’s Don Miguel, devil a less. ‘Don Miguel, av it’s plazing +to you to take a drop of Xeres before your meat?’ or, ‘Would you have a +shaugh of a pipe or cigar when you’re done?’ That’s the way of it.” +</p> +<p> +“And Sir George Dashwood,” said I, “has he been here? Has he inquired for +me?” +</p> +<p> +“Every day either himself or one of the staff comes galloping up at +luncheon time to ask after you; and then they have a bit of tender +discourse with the senhora herself. Oh, devil a bit need ye fear them, +she’s true blue; and it isn’t the major’s fault,—upon my conscience +it isn’t,—for he does be coming the blarney over her in beautiful +style.” +</p> +<p> +“Does Miss Dashwood ever visit here?” said I, with a voice faltering and +uncertain enough to have awakened suspicion in a more practised observer. +</p> +<p> +“Never once; and that’s what I call unnatural behavior, after you saving +her life; and if she wasn’t—” +</p> +<p> +“Be silent, I say.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, there, I won’t say any more; and sure it’s time for me to be +putting on my beard again. I’m going to the Casino with Catrina, and sure +it’s with real ladies I might be going av it wasn’t for Major Power, that +told them I wasn’t a officer; but it’s all right again. I gave them a +great history of the Frees from the time of Cuilla na Toole, that was one +of the family and a cousin of Moses, I believe; and they behave well to +one that comes from an ould stock.” +</p> +<p> +“Don Miguel! Don Miguel!” said a voice from the garden. +</p> +<p> +“I’m coming, my angel! I’m coming, my turtle-dove!” said Mike, arranging +his mustaches and beard with amazing dexterity. “Ah, but it would do your +heart good av you could take a peep at us about twelve o’clock, dancing +‘Dirty James’ for a bolero, and just see Miss Catrina, the lady’s maid, +doing ‘cover the buckle’ as neat as Nature. There now, there’s the +lemonade near your hand, and I’ll leave you the lamp, and you may go +asleep as soon as you please, for Miss Inez won’t come in to-night to play +the guitar, for the doctor said it might do you harm now.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, and before I could summon presence of mind to ask another +question, Don Miguel wrapped himself in the broad folds of his Spanish +cloak, and strode from the room with the air of an hidalgo. +</p> +<p> +I slept but little that night; the full tide of memory, rushing in upon +me, brought back the hour of my return to Lisbon and the wreck of all my +hopes, which from the narrative of my servant I now perceived to be +complete. I dare not venture upon recording how many plans suggested +themselves to my troubled spirit, and were in turn rejected. To meet Lucy +Dashwood; to make a full and candid declaration; to acknowledge that +flirtation alone with Donna Inez (a mere passing, boyish flirtation) had +given the coloring to my innocent passion, and that in heart and soul I +was hers, and hers only,—this was my first resolve; but alas! if I +had not courage to sustain a common interview, to meet her in the careless +crowd of a drawing-room, what could I do under circumstances like these? +Besides, the matter would be cut very short by her coolly declaring that +she had neither right nor inclination to listen to such a declaration. The +recollection of her look as she passed me to her carriage came flashing +across my brain and decided this point. No, no! I’ll not encounter that; +however appearances for the moment had been against me, she should not +have treated me thus coldly and disdainfully. It was quite clear she had +never cared for me,—wounded pride had been her only feeling; and so +as I reasoned I ended by satisfying myself that in that quarter all was at +end forever. +</p> +<p> +Now then for dilemma number two, I thought. The senhora, my first impulse +was one of anything but gratitude to her by whose kind, tender care my +hours of pain and suffering had been soothed and alleviated. But for her, +I should have been spared all my present embarrassment, all my shipwrecked +fortunes; but for her I should now be the aide-de-camp residing in Sir +George Dashwood’s own house, meeting with Lucy every hour of the day, +dining beside her, riding out with her, pressing my suit by every means +and with every advantage of my position; but for her and her dark eyes—and, +by-the-bye, what eyes they are! how full of brilliancy, yet how teeming +with an expression of soft and melting sweetness; and her mouth, too, how +perfectly chiselled those full lips,—how different from the cold, +unbending firmness of Miss Dashwood’s! Not but I have seen Lucy smile too, +and what a sweet smile! How it lighted up her fair cheek, and made her +blue eyes darken and deepen till they looked like heaven’s own vault. Yes, +there is more poetry in a blue eye. But still Inez is a very lovely girl, +and her foot never was surpassed. She is a coquette, too, about that foot +and ankle,—I rather like a woman to be so. What a sensation she +would make in England; how she would be the rage! And then I thought of +home and Galway, and the astonishment of some, the admiration of others, +as I presented her as my wife,—the congratulations of my friends, +the wonder of the men, the tempered envy of the women. Methought I saw my +uncle, as he pressed her in his arms, say, “Yes, Charley, this is a prize +worth campaigning for.” +</p> +<p> +The stray sounds of a guitar which came from the garden broke in upon my +musings at this moment. It seemed as if a finger was straying heedlessly +across the strings. I started up, and to my surprise perceived it was +Inez. Before I had time to collect myself, a gentle tap at the window +aroused me; it opened softly, while from an unseen hand a bouquet of fresh +flowers was thrown upon my bed. Before I could collect myself to speak, +the sash closed again and I was alone. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIV. +</h2> +<p> +THE VISIT. +</p> +<p> +Mike’s performances at the masquerade had doubtless been of the most +distinguished character, and demanded a compensating period of repose, for +he did not make his appearance the entire morning. Towards noon, however, +the door from the garden gently opened, and I heard a step upon the stone +terrace, and something which sounded to my ears like the clank of a sabre. +I lifted my head, and saw Fred Power beside me. +</p> +<p> +I shall spare my readers the recital of my friend, which, however, more +full and explanatory of past events, contained in reality little more than +Mickey Free had already told me. In fine, he informed me that our army, by +a succession of retreating movements, had deserted the northern provinces, +and now occupied the intrenched lines of Torres Vedras. That Massena, with +a powerful force, was still in march, reinforcements daily pouring in upon +him, and every expectation pointing to the probability that he would +attempt to storm our position. +</p> +<p> +“The wise-heads,” remarked Power, “talk of our speedy embarkation, the +sanguine and the hot-brained rave of a great victory and the retreat of +Massena; but I was up at headquarters last week with despatches, and saw +Lord Wellington myself.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, what did you make out? Did he drop any hint of his own views?” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, I can’t say he did. He asked me some questions about the troops +just landed; he spoke a little of the commissary department, damned the +blankets, said that green forage was bad food for the artillery horses, +sent me an English paper to read about the O. P. riots, and said the +harriers would throw off about six o’clock, and that he hoped to see me at +dinner.” +</p> +<p> +I could not restrain a laugh at Power’s catalogue of his lordship’s +topics. “So,” said I, “he at least does not take any gloomy views of our +present situation.” +</p> +<p> +“Who can tell what he thinks? He’s ready to fight if fighting will do +anything, and to retreat, if that be better. But that he’ll sleep an hour +less, or drink a glass of claret more—come what will of it—I’ll +believe from no man living. +</p> +<p> +“We’ve lost one gallant thing in any case, Charley,” resumed Power. +“Busaco was, I’m told, a glorious day, and our people were in the heat of +it. So that, if we do leave the Peninsula now, that will be a confounded +chagrin. Not for you, my poor fellow, for you could not stir; but I was so +cursed foolish to take the staff appointment,—thus one folly ever +entails another.” +</p> +<p> +There was a tone of bitterness in which these words were uttered that left +no doubt upon my mind some <i>arrière pensée</i> remained lurking behind +them. My eyes met his; he bit his lip, and coloring deeply, rose from the +chair, and walked towards the window. +</p> +<p> +The chance allusion of my man Mike flashed upon me at the moment, and I +dared not trust myself to break silence. I now thought I could trace in my +friend’s manner less of that gay and careless buoyancy which ever marked +him. There was a tone, it seemed, of more grave and sombre character, and +even when he jested, the smile his features bore was not his usual frank +and happy one, and speedily gave way to an expression I had never before +remarked. Our silence which had now lasted for some minutes was becoming +embarrassing; that strange consciousness that, to a certain extent, we +were reading each other’s thoughts, made us both cautious of breaking it; +and when at length, turning abruptly round, he asked, “When I hoped to be +up and about again?” I felt my heart relieved from I knew not well what +load of doubt and difficulty that oppressed it. We chatted on for some +little time longer, the news of Lisbon, and the daily gossip finishing our +topics. +</p> +<p> +“Plenty of gayety, Charley, dinners and balls to no end! so get well, my +boy, and make the most of it.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” I replied, “I’ll do my best; but be assured the first use I’ll make +of health will be to join the regiment. I am heartily ashamed of myself +for all I have lost already,—though not altogether my fault.” +</p> +<p> +“And will you really join at once?” said Power, with a look of eager +anxiety I could not possibly account for. +</p> +<p> +“Of course I will; what have I, what can I have to detain me here?” +</p> +<p> +What reply he was about to make at this moment I know not, but the door +opened, and Mike announced Sir George Dashwood. +</p> +<p> +“Gently, my worthy man, not so loud, if you please?” said the mild voice +of the general, as he stepped noiselessly across the room, evidently +shocked at the indiscreet tone of my follower. “Ah, Power, you here! and +our poor friend, how is he?” +</p> +<p> +“Able to answer for himself at last, Sir George,” said I, grasping his +proffered hand. +</p> +<p> +“My poor lad! you’ve had a long bout of it; but you’ve saved your arm, and +that’s well worth the lost time. Well, I’ve come to bring you good news; +there’s been a very sharp cavalry affair, and our fellows have been the +conquerors.” +</p> +<p> +“There again, Power,—listen to that! We are losing everything!” +</p> +<p> +“Not so, not so, my boy,” said Sir George, smiling blandly, but archly. +“There are conquests to be won here, as well as there; and in your present +state, I rather think you better fitted for such as these.” +</p> +<p> +Power’s brow grew clouded; he essayed a smile, but it failed, and he rose +and hurried towards the window. +</p> +<p> +As for me, my confusion must have led to a very erroneous impression of my +real feelings, and I perceived Sir George anxious to turn the channel of +the conversation. +</p> +<p> +“You see but little of your host, O’Malley,” he resumed; “he is ever from +home; but I believe nothing could be kinder than his arrangements for you. +You are aware that he kidnapped you from us? I had sent Forbes over to +bring you to us; your room was prepared, everything in readiness, when he +met your man Mike, setting forth upon a mule, who told him you had just +taken your departure for the villa. We both had our claim upon you and, I +believe, pretty much on the same score. By-the-bye, you have not seen Lucy +since your arrival. I never knew it till yesterday, when I asked if she +did not find you altered.” +</p> +<p> +I blundered out some absurd reply, blushed, corrected myself, and got +confused. Sir George attributing this, doubtless, to my weak state, rose +soon after, and taking Power along with him, remarked as he left the room,— +</p> +<p> +“We are too much for him yet, I see that; so we’ll leave him quiet some +time longer.” +</p> +<p> +Thanking him in my heart for his true appreciation of my state, I sank +back upon my pillow to think over all I had heard and seen. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Mister Charles,” said Mike as he came forward with a smile, “I +suppose you heard the news? The Fourteenth bate the French down at Merca +there, and took seventy prisoners; but sure it’s little good it’ll do, +after all.” +</p> +<p> +“And why not, Mike?” +</p> +<p> +“Musha! isn’t Boney coming himself? He’s bringing all the Roossians down +with him, and going to destroy us entirely.” +</p> +<p> +“Not at all, man; you mistake. He’s nothing to do with Russia, and has +quite enough on his hands at this moment.” +</p> +<p> +“God grant it was truth you were talking! But, you see, I read it myself +in the papers (or Sergeant Haggarty did, which is the same thing) that +he’s coming with the Cusacks.” +</p> +<p> +“With who?—with what?” +</p> +<p> +“With the Cusacks.” +</p> +<p> +“What the devil do you mean? Who are they?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Tower of Ivory! did you never hear of the Cusacks, with the red +beards and the red breeches and long poles with pike-heads on them, that +does all the devilment on horseback,—spiking and spitting the people +like larks?” +</p> +<p> +“The Cossacks, is it, you mean? The Cossacks?” +</p> +<p> +“Ay, just so, the Cusacks. They’re from Clare Island, and thereabouts; and +there’s more of them in Meath. They’re my mother’s people, and was always +real devils for fighting.” +</p> +<p> +I burst out into an immoderate fit of laughing at Mike’s etymology, which +thus converted Hetman Platoff into a Galway man. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, murder! isn’t it cruel to hear you laugh that way! There now, alanna! +be asy, and I’ll tell you more news. We’ve the house to ourselves to-day. +The ould gentleman’s down at Behlem, and the daughter’s in Lisbon, making +great preparations for a grand ball they’re to give when you are quite +well.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope I shall be with the army in a few days, Mike; and certainly, if +I’m able to move about, I’ll not remain longer in Lisbon.” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, don’t say so, now! When was you ever so comfortable? Upon my +conscience, it’s more like Paradise than anything else. If ye see the +dinner we sit down to every day; and as for drink,—if it wasn’t that +I sleep on a ground-floor, I’d seldom see a blanket!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, certainly, Mike, I agree with you, these are hard things to tear +ourselves away from.” +</p> +<p> +“Aren’t they now, sir? And then Miss Catherine, I’m taching her Irish!” +</p> +<p> +“Teaching her Irish! for Heaven’s sake, what use can she make of Irish?” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, the crayture, she doesn’t know better; and as she was always +bothering me to learn her English, I promised one day to do it; but ye +see, somehow, I never was very proficient in strange tongues; so I thought +to myself Irish will do as well. So, you perceive, we’re taking a course +of Irish literature, as Mr. Lynch says in Athlone; and, upon my +conscience, she’s an apt scholar.” +</p> +<p> +“‘Good-morning to you, Katey,’ says Mr. Power to her the other day, as he +passed through the hall. ‘Good-morning, my dear; I hear you speak English +perfectly now?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘<i>Honia mon diaoul</i>,’ says she, making a curtsey. +</p> +<p> +“Be the powers, I thought he’d die with the laughing. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, my dear, I hope you don’t mean it,—do you know what you’re +saying?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Honor bright, Major!’ says I,—‘honor bright!’ and I gave him a +wink at the same time. +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, that’s it!’ said he, ‘is it!’ and so he went off holding his hands +to his sides with the bare laughing; and your honor knows it wasn’t a +blessing she wished him, for all that.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XV. +</h2> +<p> +THE CONFESSION. +</p> +<p> +“What a strange position this of mine!” thought I, a few mornings after +the events detailed in the last chapter. “How very fascinating in some +respects, how full of all the charm of romance, and how confoundly +difficult to see one’s way through!” +</p> +<p> +To understand my cogitation right, <i>figurez-vous</i>, my dear reader, a +large and splendidly furnished drawing-room, from one end of which an +orangery in full blossom opens; from the other is seen a delicious little +boudoir, where books, bronzes, pictures and statues, in all the artistique +disorder of a lady’s sanctum, are bathed in a deep purple light from a +stained glass window of the seventeenth century. +</p> +<p> +On a small table beside the wood fire, whose mellow light is flirting with +the sunbeams upon the carpet, stands an antique silver breakfast-service, +which none but the hand of Benvenuto could have chiselled; beside it sits +a girl, young and beautiful; her dark eyes, beaming beneath their long +lashes, are fixed with an expression of watchful interest upon a pale and +sickly youth, who, lounging upon a sofa opposite, is carelessly turning +over the leaves of a new journal, or gazing steadfastly on the fretted +gothic of the ceiling, while his thoughts are travelling many a mile away. +The lady being the Senhora Inez; the nonchalant invalid, your unworthy +acquaintance, Charles O’Malley. +</p> +<p> +What a very strange position to be sure. +</p> +<p> +“Then you are not equal to this ball to-night?” said she, after a pause of +some minutes. +</p> +<p> +I turned as she spoke; her words had struck audibly upon my ear, but, lost +in my revery, I could but repeat my own fixed thought,—how strange +to be so situated! +</p> +<p> +“You are really very tiresome, Signor; I assure you, you are. I have been +giving you a most elegant description of the Casino <i>fête</i>, and the +beautiful costume of our Lisbon belles, but I can get nothing from you but +this muttered something, which may be very shocking for aught I know. I’m +sure your friend, Major Power, would be much more attentive to me; that +is,” added she, archly, “if Miss Dashwood were not present.” +</p> +<p> +“What! why! You don’t mean that there is anything there—that Tower +is paying attention to—” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Madre divina</i>, how that seems to interest you, and how red you are! +If it were not that you never met her before, and that your acquaintance +did not seem to make rapid progress, then I should say you are in love +with her yourself.” +</p> +<p> +I had to laugh at this, but felt my face flushing more. “And so,” said I, +affecting a careless and indifferent tone, “the gay Fred Power is smitten +at last!” +</p> +<p> +“Was it so very difficult a thing to accomplish?” said she, slyly. +</p> +<p> +“He seems to say so, at least. And the lady, how does she appear to +receive his attentions?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I should say with evident pleasure and satisfaction, as all girls do +the advances of men they don’t care for, nor intend to care for.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed,” said I, slowly, “indeed, Senhora?” looking into her eyes as I +spoke, as if to read if the lesson were destined for my benefit. +</p> +<p> +“There, don’t stare so!—every one knows that.” +</p> +<p> +“So you don’t think, then, that Lucy,—I mean Miss Dashwood—Why +are you laughing so?” +</p> +<p> +“How can I help it; your calling her Lucy is so good, I wish she heard it; +she’s the very proudest girl I ever knew.” +</p> +<p> +“But to come back; you really think she does not care for him?” +</p> +<p> +“Not more than for you; and I may be pardoned for the simile, having seen +your meeting. But let me give you the news of our own <i>fête</i>. +Saturday is the day fixed; and you must be quite well,—I insist upon +it. Miss Dashwood has promised to come,—no small concession; for +after all she has never once been here since the day you frightened her. I +can’t help laughing at my blunder,—the two people I had promised +myself should fall desperately in love with each other, and who will +scarcely meet.” +</p> +<p> +“But I trusted,” said I, pettishly, “that you were not disposed to resign +your own interest in me?” +</p> +<p> +“Neither was I,” said she, with an easy smile, “except that I have so many +admirers. I might even spare to my friends; though after all I should be +sorry to lose you, I like you.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I half bitterly, “as girls do those they never intend to care +for; is it not so?” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps, yes, and perhaps—But is it going to rain? How provoking! +and I have ordered my horse. Well, Signor Carlos, I leave you to your +delightful newspaper, and all the magnificent descriptions of battles and +sieges and skirmishes of which you seem doomed to pine without ceasing. +There, don’t kiss my hand twice; that’s not right.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, let me begin again—” +</p> +<p> +“I shall not breakfast with you any more. But tell me, am I to order a +costume for you in Lisbon; or will you arrange all that yourself? You must +come to the <i>fête</i>, you know.” +</p> +<p> +“If you would be so very kind.” +</p> +<p> +“I will, then, be so very kind; and once more, <i>adios</i>.” So saying, +and with a slight motion of her hand, she smiled a good-by, and left me. +</p> +<p> +“What a lovely girl!” thought I, as I rose and walked to the window, +muttering to myself Othello’s line, and— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“When I love thee not, chaos is come again.” +</pre> +<p> +In fact, it was the perfect expression of my feeling; the only solution to +all the difficulties surrounding me, being to fall desperately, +irretrievably in love with the fair senhora, which, all things considered, +was not a very desperate resource for a gentleman in trouble. As I thought +over the hopelessness of one attachment, I turned calmly to consider all +the favorable points of the other. She was truly beautiful, attractive in +every sense; her manner most fascinating, and her disposition, so far as I +could pronounce, perfectly amiable. I felt already something more than +interest about her; how very easy would be the transition to a stronger +feeling! There was an <i>éclat</i>, too, about being her accepted lover +that had its charm. She was the belle <i>par excellence</i> of Lisbon; and +then a sense of pique crossed my mind as I reflected what would Lucy say +of him whom she had slighted and insulted, when he became the husband of +the beautiful millionnaire Senhora Inez? +</p> +<p> +As my meditations had reached thus far, the door opened stealthily, and +Catherine appeared, her finger upon her lips, and her gesture indicating +caution. She carried on her arm a mass of drapery covered by a large +mantle, which throwing off as she entered, she displayed before me a rich +blue domino with silver embroidery. It was large and loose in its folds, +so as thoroughly to conceal the figure of any wearer. This she held up +before me for an instant without speaking; when at length, seeing my +curiosity fully excited, she said,— +</p> +<p> +“This is the senhora’s domino. I should be ruined if she knew I showed it; +but I promised—that is, I told—” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes, I understand,” relieving her embarrassment about the source of +her civilities; “go on.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, there are several others like it, but with this small difference, +instead of a carnation, which all the others have embroidered upon the +cuff, I have made it a rose,—you perceive? La Senhora knows nothing +of this,—none save yourself knows it. I’m sure I may trust you with +the secret.” +</p> +<p> +“Fear not in the least, Catherine; you have rendered me a great service. +Let me look at it once more; ah, there’s no difficulty in detecting it. +And you are certain she is unaware of it?” +</p> +<p> +“Perfectly so; she has several other costumes, but in this one I know she +intends some surprise, so be upon your guard.” +</p> +<p> +With these words, carefully once more concealing the rich dress beneath +the mantle, she withdrew; while I strolled forth to wonder what mystery +might lie beneath this scheme, and speculate how far I myself was included +in the plot she spoke of. +</p> +<p> +For the few days which succeeded, I passed my time much alone. The senhora +was but seldom at home; and I remarked that Power rarely came to see me. A +strange feeling of half-coolness had latterly grown between us, and +instead of the open confidence we formerly indulged in when together, we +appeared now rather to chat over things of mere every-day interest than of +our own immediate plans and prospects. There was a kind of pre-occupation, +too, in his manner that struck me; his mind seemed ever straying from the +topics he talked of to something remote, and altogether, he was no longer +the frank and reckless dragoon I had ever known him. What could be the +meaning of this change? Had he found out by any accident that I was to +blame in my conduct towards Lucy; had any erroneous impression of my +interview with her reached his ears? This was most improbable; besides, +there was nothing in that to draw down his censure or condemnation, +however represented; and was it that he was himself in love with her, +that, devoted heart and soul to Lucy, he regarded me as a successful +rival, preferred before him! Oh, how could I have so long blinded myself +to the fact! This was the true solution of the whole difficulty. I had +more than once suspected this to be so; now all the circumstances of proof +poured in upon me. I called to mind his agitated manner the night of my +arrival in Lisbon, his thousand questions concerning the reasons of my +furlough; and then, lately, the look of unfeigned pleasure with which he +heard me resolve to join my regiment the moment I was sufficiently +recovered. I remembered also how assiduously he pressed his intimacy with +the senhora, Lucy’s dearest friend here; his continual visits at the +villa; those long walks in the garden, where his very look betokened some +confidential mission of the heart. Yes, there was no doubt of it, he loved +Lucy Dashwood! Alas, there seemed to be no end to the complication of my +misfortunes; one by one I appeared fated to lose whatever had a hold upon +my affections, and to stand alone, unloved and uncared for in the world. +My thoughts turned towards the senhora, but I could not deceive myself +into any hope there. My own feelings were untouched, and hers I felt to be +equally so. Young as I was, there was no mistaking the easy smile of +coquetry, the merry laugh of flattered vanity, for a deeper and holier +feeling. And then I did not wish it otherwise. One only had taught me to +feel how ennobling, how elevating in all its impulses can be a deep-rooted +passion for a young and beautiful girl! From her eyes alone had I caught +the inspiration that made me pant for glory and distinction. I could not +transfer the allegiance of my heart, since it had taught that very heart +to beat high and proudly. Lucy, lost to me forever as she must be, was +still more than any other woman ever could be; all the past clung to her +memory, all the prestige of the future must point to it also. +</p> +<p> +And Power, why had he not trusted, why had he not confided in me? Was this +like my old and tried friend? Alas! I was forgetting that in his eye I was +the favored rival, and not the despised, rejected suitor. +</p> +<p> +“It is past now,” thought I, as I rose and walked into the garden; “the +dream that made life a fairy tale is dispelled; the cold reality of the +world is before me, and my path lies a lonely and solitary one.” My first +resolution was to see Power, and relieve his mind of any uneasiness as +regarded my pretentions; they existed no longer. As for me, I was no +obstacle to his happiness; it was, then, but fair and honorable that I +should tell him so; this done, I should leave Lisbon at once. The cavalry +had for the most part been ordered to the rear; still there was always +something going forward at the outposts. +</p> +<p> +The idea of active service, the excitement of a campaigning life, cheered +me, and I advanced along the dark alley of the garden with a lighter and a +freer heart. My resolves were not destined to meet delay; as I turned the +angle of a walk, Power was before me. He was leaning against a tree, his +hands crossed upon his bosom, his head bowed forward, and his whole air +and attitude betokening deep reflection. +</p> +<p> +He started as I came up, and seemed almost to change color. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Charley,” said he, after a moment’s pause, “you look better this +morning. How goes the arm?” +</p> +<p> +“The arm is ready for service again, and its owner most anxious for it. Do +you know, Fred, I’m thoroughly weary of this life.” +</p> +<p> +“They’re little better, however, at the lines. The French are in position, +but never adventure a movement; and except some few affairs at the +pickets, there is really nothing to do.” +</p> +<p> +“No matter, remaining here can never serve one’s interests, and besides, I +have accomplished what I came for—” +</p> +<p> +I was about to add, “the restoration of my health,” when he suddenly +interrupted me, eying me fixedly as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed! indeed! Is that so?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, half puzzled at the tone and manner of the speech; “I can +join now when I please; meanwhile, Fred, I have been thinking of you. Yes, +don’t be surprised, at the very moment we met you were in my thoughts.” +</p> +<p> +I took his arm as I said this, and led him down the alley. +</p> +<p> +“We are too old and, I trust, too true friends, Fred, to have secrets from +each other, and yet we have been playing this silly game for some weeks +past. Now, my dear fellow, I have yours, and it is only fair justice you +should have mine, and, faith, I feel you’d have discovered it long since, +had your thoughts been as free as I have known them to be. Fred, you are +in love; there, don’t wince, man, I know it; but hear me out. You believe +me to be so also; nay, more, you think that my chances of success are +better, stronger than your own; learn, then, that I have none,—absolutely +none. Don’t interrupt me now, for this avowal cuts me deeply; my own heart +alone knows what I suffer as I record my wrecked fortunes; but I repeat +it, my hopes are at end forever; but, Fred, my boy, I cannot lose my +friend too. If I have been the obstacle to your path, I am so no more. Ask +me not why; it is enough that I speak in all truth and sincerity. Ere +three days I shall leave this, and with it all the hopes that once beamed +upon my fortunes, and all the happiness,—nay, not all, my boy, for I +feel some thrill at my heart yet, as I think that I have been true to +you.” +</p> +<p> +I know not what more I spoke nor how he replied to me. I felt the warm +grasp of his hand, I saw his delighted smile; the words of grateful +acknowledgment his lips uttered conveyed but an imperfect meaning to my +ear, and I remembered no more. +</p> +<p> +The courage which sustained me for the moment sank gradually as I +meditated over my avowal, and I could scarce help accusing Power of a +breach of friendship for exacting a confession which, in reality, I had +volunteered to give him. How Lucy herself would think of my conduct was +ever occurring to my thoughts, and I felt, as I ruminated upon the +conjectures it might give rise to, how much more likely a favorable +opinion might now be formed of me, than when such an estimation could have +crowned me with delight. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” thought I, “she will at last learn to know him who loved her with +truth and with devoted affection; and when the blight of all his hopes is +accomplished, the fair fame of his fidelity will be proved. The march, the +bivouac, the battle-field, are now all to me; and the campaign alone +presents a prospect which may fill up the aching void that disappointed +and ruined hopes have left behind them.” +</p> +<p> +How I longed for the loud call of the trumpet, the clash of the steel, the +tramp of the war-horse; though the proud distinction of a soldier’s life +were less to me in the distance than the mad and whirlwind passion of a +charge, and the loud din of the rolling artillery. +</p> +<p> +It was only some hours after, as I sat alone in my chamber, that all the +circumstances of our meeting came back clearly to my memory, and I could +not help muttering to myself,— +</p> +<p> +“It is indeed a hard lot, that to cheer the heart of my friend, I must +bear witness to the despair that shed darkness on my own.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVI. +</h2> +<p> +MY CHARGER. +</p> +<p> +Although I felt my heart relieved of a heavy load by the confession I had +made to Power, yet still I shrank from meeting him for some days after; a +kind of fear lest he should in any way recur to our conversation +continually beset me, and I felt that the courage which bore me up for my +first effort would desert me on the next occasion. +</p> +<p> +My determination to join my regiment was now made up, and I sent forward a +resignation of my appointment to Sir George Dashwood’s staff, which I had +never been in health to fulfil, and commenced with energy all my +preparations for a speedy departure. +</p> +<p> +The reply to my rather formal letter was a most kind note written by +himself. He regretted the unhappy cause which had so long separated us, +and though wishing, as he expressed it, to have me near him, perfectly +approved of my resolution. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Active service alone, my dear boy, can ever place you in the +position you ought to occupy; and I rejoice the more at your decision +in this matter, as I feared the truth of certain reports here, +which attributed to you other plans than those which a campaign +suggests. My mind is now easy on this score, and I pray you forgive +me if my congratulations are <i>mal à propos</i>.” +</pre> +<p> +After some hints for my future management, and a promise of some letters +to his friends at headquarters, he concluded:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“As this climate does not seem to suit my daughter, I have +applied for a change, and am in daily hope of obtaining it. Before +going, however, I must beg your acceptance of the charger which my +groom will deliver to your servant with this. I was so struck with +his figure and action that I purchased him before leaving England +without well knowing why or wherefore. Pray let him see some +service under your auspices, which he is most unlikely to do under +mine. He has plenty of bone to be a weight carrier, and they tell +me also that he has speed enough for anything.” +</pre> +<p> +Mike’s voice in the lawn beneath interrupted my reading farther, and on +looking out, I perceived him and Sir George Dashwood’s servant standing +beside a large and striking-looking horse, which they were both examining +with all the critical accuracy of adepts. +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, isn’t he a darling, a real beauty, every inch of him?” +</p> +<p> +“That ‘ere splint don’t signify nothing; he aren’t the worse of it,” said +the English groom. +</p> +<p> +“Of coorse it doesn’t,” replied Mike. “What a fore-hand, and the legs, +clean as a whip!” +</p> +<p> +“There’s the best of him, though,” interrupted the other, patting the +strong hind-quarters with his hand. “There’s the stuff to push him along +through heavy ground and carry him over timber.” +</p> +<p> +“Or a stone wall,” said Mike, thinking of Galway. +</p> +<p> +My own impatience to survey my present had now brought me into the +conclave, and before many minutes were over I had him saddled, and was +cantering around the lawn with a spirit and energy I had not felt for +months long. Some small fences lay before me, and over these he carried me +with all the ease and freedom of a trained hunter. My courage mounted with +the excitement, and I looked eagerly around for some more bold and dashing +leap. +</p> +<p> +“You may take him over the avenue gate,” said the English groom, divining +with a jockey’s readiness what I looked for; “he’ll do it, never fear +him.” +</p> +<p> +Strange as my equipment was, with an undress jacket flying loosely open, +and a bare head, away I went. The gate which the groom spoke of was a +strongly-barred one of oak timber, nearly five feet high,—its +difficulty as a leap only consisted in the winding approach, and the fact +that it opened upon a hard road beyond it. +</p> +<p> +In a second or two a kind of half fear came across me. My long illness had +unnerved me, and my limbs felt weak and yielding; but as I pressed into +the canter, that secret sympathy between the horse and his rider shot +suddenly through me, I pressed my spurs to his flanks, and dashed him at +it. +</p> +<p> +Unaccustomed to such treatment, the noble animal bounded madly forward. +With two tremendous plunges he sprang wildly in the air, and shaking his +long mane with passion, stretched out at the gallop. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0124.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Charley Trying a Charger. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +My own blood boiled now as tempestuously as his; and with a shout of +reckless triumph, I rose him at the gate. Just at the instant two figures +appeared before it,—the copse had concealed their approach hitherto,—but +they stood now as if transfixed. The wild attitude of the horse, the not +less wild cry of his rider, had deprived them for a time of all energy; +and overcome by the sudden danger, they seemed rooted to the ground. What +I said, spoke, begged, or imprecated, Heaven knows—not I. But they +stirred not! One moment more and they must lie trampled beneath my horse’s +hoofs,—he was already on his haunches for the bound,—when, +wheeling half aside, I faced him at the wall. It was at least a foot +higher and of solid stone masonry, and as I did so I felt that I was +perilling my life to save theirs. One vigorous dash of the spur I gave +him, as I lifted him to the leap. He bounded beneath it quick as +lightning; still, with a spring like a rocket, he rose into the air, +cleared the wall, and stood trembling and frightened on the road outside. +</p> +<p> +“Safe, by Jupiter! and splendidly done, too,” cried a voice near me, that +I immediately recognized as Sir George Dashwood’s. +</p> +<p> +“Lucy, my love, look up,—Lucy, my dear, there’s no danger now. She +has fainted! O’Malley, fetch some water,—fast. Poor fellow, your own +nerves seem shaken. Why, you’ve let your horse go! Come here, for Heaven’s +sake! Support her for an instant. I’ll fetch some water.” +</p> +<p> +It appeared to me like a dream; I leaned against the pillar of the gate; +the cold and death-like features of Lucy Dashwood lay motionless upon my +arm; her hand, falling heavily upon my shoulder, touched my cheek. The +tramp of my horse, as he galloped onward, was the only sound that broke +the silence, as I stood there, gazing steadfastly upon the pale brow and +paler cheek, down which a solitary tear was slowly stealing. I knew not +how the minutes passed; my memory took no note of time, but at length a +gentle tremor thrilled her frame, a slight, scarce-perceptible blush +colored her fair face, her lips slightly parted, and heaving a deep sigh, +she looked around her. Gradually her eyes turned and met mine. Oh, the +bliss unutterable of that moment! It was no longer the look of cold scorn +she had given me last; the expression was one of soft and speaking +gratitude. She seemed to read my very heart, and know its truth; there was +a tone of deep and compassionate interest in the glance; and forgetting +all,—everything that had passed,—all save my unaltered, +unalterable love, I kneeled beside her, and in words burning as my own +heart burned, poured out my tale of mingled sorrow and affection with all +the eloquence of passion. I vindicated my unshaken faith,—reconciling +the conflicting evidences with the proofs I proffered of my attachment. If +my moments were measured, I spent them not idly. I called to witness how +every action of my soldier’s life emanated from her; how her few and +chance words had decided the character of my fate; if aught of fame or +honor were my portion, to her I owed it. As, hurried onwards by my ardent +hopes, I forgot Power and all about him, a step up the gravel walk came +rapidly nearer, and I had but time to assume my former attitude beside +Lucy as her father came up. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Charley, is she better? Oh, I see she is. Here, we have the whole +household at our heels.” So saying, he pointed to a string of servants +pressing eagerly forward with every species of restorative that Portuguese +ingenuity has invented. +</p> +<p> +The next moment we were joined by the senhora, who, pale with fear, seemed +scarcely less in need of assistance than her friend. +</p> +<p> +Amidst questions innumerable; explanations sought for on all sides; +mistakes and misconceptions as to the whole occurrence,—we took our +way towards the villa, Lucy walking between Sir George and Donna Inez, +while I followed, leaning upon Power’s arm. +</p> +<p> +“They’ve caught him again, O’Malley,” said the general, turning half round +to me; “he, too, seemed as much frightened as any of us.” +</p> +<p> +“It is time, Sir George, I should think of thanking you. I never was so +mounted in my life—” +</p> +<p> +“A splendid charger, by Jove!” said Power; “but, Charley, my lad, no more +feats of this nature, if you love me. No girl’s heart will stand such +continual assaults as your winning horsemanship submits it to.” +</p> +<p> +I was about making some half-angry reply, when he continued: “There, don’t +look sulky; I have news for you. Quill has just arrived. I met him at +Lisbon; he has got leave of absence for a few days, and is coming to our +masquerade here this evening.” +</p> +<p> +“This evening!” said I, in amazement; “why, is it so soon?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course it is. Have you not got all your trappings ready? The Dashwoods +came out here on purpose to spend the day; but come, I’ll drive you into +town. My tilbury is ready, and we’ll both look out for our costumes.” So +saying, he led me along towards the house, when, after a rapid change of +my toilet, we set out for Lisbon. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVII. +</h2> +<p> +MAURICE. +</p> +<p> +It seemed a conceded matter between Power and myself that we should never +recur to the conversation we held in the garden; and so, although we dined +<i>tête-à -tête</i> that day, neither of us ventured, by any allusion the +most distant, to advert to what it was equally evident was uppermost in +the minds of both. +</p> +<p> +All our endeavors, therefore, to seem easy and unconcerned were in vain; a +restless anxiety to seem interested about things and persons we were +totally indifferent to, pervaded all our essays at conversation. By +degrees, we grew weary of the parts we were acting, and each relapsed into +a moody silence, thinking over his plans and projects, and totally +forgetting the existence of the other. +</p> +<p> +The decanter was passed across the table without speaking, a half nod +intimated the bottle was standing; and except an occasional malediction +upon an intractable cigar, nothing was heard. +</p> +<p> +Such was the agreeable occupation we were engaged in, when, towards nine +o’clock, the door opened, and the great Maurice himself stood before us. +</p> +<p> +“Pleasant fellows, upon my conscience, and jovial over their liquor! +Confound your smoking! That may do very well in a bivouac. Let us have +something warm!” +</p> +<p> +Quill’s interruption was a most welcome one to both parties, and we +rejoiced with a sincere pleasure at his coming. +</p> +<p> +“What shall it be, Maurice? Port or sherry mulled, and an anchovy?” +</p> +<p> +“Or what say you to a bowl of bishop?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Hurrah for the Church, Charley! Let us have the bishop; and not to +disparage Fred’s taste, we’ll be eating the anchovy while the liquor’s +concocting.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Maurice, and now for the news. How are matters at Torres Vedras? +Anything like movement in that quarter?” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing very remarkable. Massena made a reconnoissance some days since, +and one of our batteries threw a shower of grape among the staff, which +spoiled the procession, and sent them back in very disorderly time. Then +we’ve had a few skirmishes to the front with no great results,—a few +courts-martial, bad grub, and plenty of grumbling.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, what would they have? It’s a great thing to hold the French army in +check within a few marches of Lisbon.” +</p> +<p> +“Charley, my man, who cares twopence for the French army or Lisbon or the +Portuguese or the Junta or anything about it?—every man is pondering +over his own affairs. One fellow wants to get home again, and be sent upon +some recruiting station. Another wishes to get a step or two in promotion, +to come to Torres Vedras, where even the <i>grande armée</i> can’t. Then +some of us are in love, and some of us are in debt. Their is neither glory +nor profit to be had. But here’s the bishop, smoking and steaming with an +odor of nectar!” +</p> +<p> +“And our fellows, have you seen them lately?” +</p> +<p> +“I dined with yours on Tuesday. Was it Tuesday? Yes. I dined with them. +By-the-bye, Sparks was taken prisoner that morning.” +</p> +<p> +“Sparks taken prisoner! Poor fellow. I am sincerely sorry. How did it +happen, Maurice?” +</p> +<p> +“Very simply. Sparks had a forage patrol towards Vieda, and set out early +in the morning with his party. It seemed that they succeeded perfectly, +and were returning to the lines, when poor Sparks, always susceptible +where the sex are concerned, saw, or thought he saw, a lattice gently open +as he rode from the village, and a very taper finger make a signal to him. +Dropping a little behind the rest, he waited till his men had debouched +upon the road, when riding quietly up, he coughed a couple of times to +attract the fair unknown; a handkerchief waved from the lattice in reply, +which was speedily closed, and our valiant cornet accordingly dismounted +and entered the house. +</p> +<p> +“The remainder of the adventure is soon told; for in a few seconds after, +two men mounted on one horse were seen galloping at top speed towards the +French lines,—the foremost being a French officer of the 4th +Cuirassiers, the gentleman with his face to the tail, our friend Sparks; +the lovely unknown being a <i>vieille moustache</i> of Loison’s corps, who +had been wounded in a skirmish some days before, and lay waiting an +opportunity of rejoining his party. One of our prisoners knew this fellow +well; he had been promoted from the ranks, and was a Hercules for feats of +strength; so that, after all, Sparks could not help himself.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m really sorry; but as you say, Sparks’s tender nature is always +the ruin of him.” +</p> +<p> +“Of him! ay, and of you; and of Power; and of myself; of all of us. Isn’t +it the sweet creatures that make fools of us from Father Adam down to +Maurice Quill, neither sparing age nor rank in the service, half-pay nor +the veteran battalion—it’s all one? Pass the jug, there. +O’Shaughnessy—” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, by-the-bye, how’s the major?” +</p> +<p> +“Charmingly; only a little bit in a scrape just now. Sir Arthur—Lord +Wellington, I mean—had him up for his fellows being caught +pillaging, and gave him a devil of a rowing a few days ago. +</p> +<p> +“‘Very disorderly corps yours, Major O’Shaughnessy,’ said the general; +‘more men up for punishment than any regiment in the service.’ +</p> +<p> +“Shaugh muttered something; but his voice was lost in a loud +cock-a-doo-do-doo, that some bold chanticleer set up at the moment. +</p> +<p> +“‘If the officers do their duty, Major O’Shaughnessy, these acts of +insubordination do not occur.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Cock-a-doo-do-doo,’ was the reply. Some of the staff found it hard not +to laugh; but the general went on,— +</p> +<p> +“‘If, therefore, the practice does not cease, I’ll draft the men into West +India regiments.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Cock-a-doo-do-doo.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And if any articles pillaged from the inhabitants are detected in the +quarters, or about the person of the troops—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Cock-a-doo-do-<i>doo</i>,’ screamed louder here than ever. +</p> +<p> +“‘Damn that cock! Where is it?’ +</p> +<p> +“There was a general look around on all sides, which seemed in vain; when +a tremendous repetition of the cry resounded from O’Shaughnessy’s coat +pocket,—thus detecting the valiant major himself in the very +practice of his corps. There was no standing this: every one burst out +into a peal of laughing; and Lord Wellington himself could not resist, but +turned away, muttering to himself as he went, ‘Damned robbers—every +man of them!’ while a final war-note from the major’s pocket closed the +interview.” +</p> +<p> +“Confound you, Maurice, you’ve always some villanous narrative or other. +You never crossed a street for shelter without making something out of +it.” +</p> +<p> +“True this time, as sure as my name’s Maurice; but the bowl is empty.” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind, here comes its successor. How long can you stay among us?” +</p> +<p> +“A few days at most. Just took a run off to see the sights. I was all over +Lisbon this morning; saw the Inquisition and the cells and the place where +they tried the fellows,—the kind of grand jury room with the great +picture of Adam and Eve at the end of it. What a beautiful creature she +is; hair down to her waist, and such eyes! ‘Ah, ye darling!’ said I to +myself, ‘small blame to him for what he did. Wouldn’t I ate every crab in +the garden, if ye asked me!’” +</p> +<p> +“I must certainly go to see her, Maurice. Is she very Portuguese in her +style?” +</p> +<p> +“Devil a bit of it! She might be a Limerick-woman with elegant brown hair +and blue eyes and a skin like snow.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, they’ve pretty girls in Lisbon too, Doctor.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, faith,” said Power, “that they have.” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing like Ireland, boys; not a bit of it; they’re the girls for my +money; and where’s the man can resist them? From Saint Patrick, that had +to go and live in the Wicklow mountains—” +</p> +<p> +“Saint Kevin, you mean, Doctor.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure it’s all the same, they were twins. I made a little song about them +one evening last week,—the women I mean.” +</p> +<p> +“Let us have it, Maurice; let us have it, old fellow. What’s the measure?” +</p> +<p> +“Short measure; four little verses, devil a more!” +</p> +<p> +“But the time, I mean?” +</p> +<p> +“Whenever you like to sing it; here it is,”— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE GIRLS OF THE WEST. + +Air,—“<i>Teddy, ye Gander</i>.” + +(<i>With feeling: but not too slow</i>.) + +You may talk, if you please, +Of the brown Portuguese, +But wherever you roam, wherever you roam, +You nothing will meet, +Half so lovely or sweet, +As the girls at home, the girls at home. + +Their eyes are not sloes, +Nor so long is their nose, +But between me and you, between me and you, +They are just as alarming, +And ten times more charming, +With hazel and blue, with hazel and blue. + +They don’t ogle a man, +O’er the top of their fan +Till his heart’s in a flame, till his heart’s in a flame +But though bashful and shy, +They’ve a look in their eye +That just comes to the same, just comes to the same. + +No mantillas they sport, +But a petticoat short +Shows an ankle the best, an ankle the best, +And a leg—but, O murther! +I dare not go further; +So here’s to the west, so here’s to the west. +</pre> +<p> +“Now that really is a sweet little thing. Moore’s isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it; my own muse, every word of it.” +</p> +<p> +“And the music?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“My own, too. Too much spice in that bowl; that’s an invariable error in +your devisers of drink, to suppose that the tipple you start with can +please your palate to the last; they forget that as we advance, either in +years or lush, our tastes simplify.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Nous revenons à nos premières amours</i>. Isn’t that it?” +</p> +<p> +“No, not exactly, for we go even further; for if you mark the progression +of a sensible man’s fluids, you’ll find what an emblem of life it presents +to you. What is his initiatory glass of ‘Chablis’ that he throws down with +his oysters but the budding expectancy of boyhood,—the appetizing +sense of pleasure to come; then follows the sherry with his soup, that +warming glow which strength and vigor in all their consciousness impart, +as a glimpse of life is opening before him. Then youth succeeds—buoyant, +wild, tempestuous youth—foaming and sparkling like the bright +champagne whose stormy surface subsides into a myriad of bright stars.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Oeil de perdrix</i>.” +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it; woman’s own eye, brilliant, sparkling, life-giving—” +</p> +<p> +“Devil take the fellow, he’s getting poetical!” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Fred! if that could only last; but one must come to the burgundies +with his maturer years. Your first glass of hermitage is the algebraic +sign for five-and-thirty,—the glorious burst is over; the pace is +still good, to be sure, but the great enthusiasm is past. You can afford +to look forward, but confound it, you’ve along way to look back also.” +</p> +<p> +“I say, Charley, our friend has contrived to finish the bishop during his +disquisition; the bowl’s quite empty.” +</p> +<p> +“You don’t say so, Fred. To be sure, how a man does forget himself in +abstract speculations; but let us have a little more, I’ve not concluded +my homily.” +</p> +<p> +“Not a glass, Maurice; it’s already past nine. We are all pledged to the +masquerade, and before we’ve dressed and got there, ‘t will be late +enough.” +</p> +<p> +“But I’m not disguised yet, my boy, nor half.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, they must take you <i>au naturel</i>, as our countrymen do their +potatoes.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Doctor, Fred’s right; we had better start.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I can’t help it; I’ve recorded my opposition to the motion, but I +must submit; and now that I’m on my legs, explain to me what’s that very +dull-looking old lamp up there?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the moon, man; the full moon.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ve no objection; I’m full too: so come along, lads.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVIII. +</h2> +<p> +THE MASQUERADE. +</p> +<p> +To form one’s impression of a masked ball from the attempts at this mode +of entertainment in our country, is but to conceive a most imperfect and +erroneous notion. With us, the first <i>coup d’oeil</i> is everything; the +nuns, the shepherdesses, the Turks, sailors, eastern princes, watchmen, +moonshees, milestones, devils, and Quakers are all very well in their way +as they pass in the review before us, but when we come to mix in the +crowd, we discover that, except the turban and the cowl, the crook and the +broad-brim, no further disguise is attempted or thought of. The nun, +forgetting her vow and her vestments, is flirting with the devil; the +watchman, a very fastidious elegant, is ogling the fishwomen through his +glass; while the Quaker is performing a <i>pas seul</i> Alberti might be +proud of, in a quadrille of riotous Turks and half-tipsy Hindoos; in fact, +the whole wit of the scene consists in absurd associations. Apart from +this, the actors have rarely any claims upon your attention; for even +supposing a person clever enough to sustain his character, whatever it be, +you must also supply the other personages of the drama, or, in stage +phrase, he’ll have nothing to “play up to.” What would be Bardolph without +Pistol; what Sir Lucius O’Triuger without Acres? It is the relief which +throws out the disparities and contradictions of life that afford us most +amusement; hence it is that one swallow can no more make a summer, than +one well-sustained character can give life to a masquerade. Without such +sympathies, such points of contact, all the leading features of the +individual, making him act and be acted upon, are lost; the characters +being mere parallel lines, which, however near they approach, never bisect +or cross each other. +</p> +<p> +This is not the case abroad: the domino, which serves for mere +concealment, is almost the only dress assumed, and the real disguise is +therefore thrown from necessity upon the talents, whatever they be, of the +wearer. It is no longer a question of a beard or a spangled mantle, a +Polish dress or a pasteboard nose; the mutation of voice, the assumption +of a different manner, walk, gesture, and mode of expression, are all +necessary, and no small tact is required to effect this successfully. +</p> +<p> +I may be pardoned this little digression, as it serves to explain in some +measure how I felt on entering the splendidly lit up <i>salons</i> of the +villa, crowded with hundreds of figures in all the varied costumes of a +carnival,—the sounds of laughter mingled with the crash of the +music; the hurrying hither and thither of servants with refreshments; the +crowds gathered around fortune-tellers, whose predictions threw the +parties at each moment into shouts of merriment; the eager following of +some disappointed domino, interrogating every one to find out a lost mask. +For some time I stood an astonished spectator at the kind of secret +intelligence which seemed to pervade the whole assemblage, when suddenly a +mask, who for some time had been standing beside me, whispered in French,— +</p> +<p> +“If you pass your time in this manner, you must not feel surprised if your +place be occupied.” +</p> +<p> +I turned hastily round, but she was gone. She, I say, for the voice was +clearly a woman’s; her pink domino could be no guide, for hundreds of the +same color passed me every instant. The meaning of the allusion I had +little doubt of. I turned to speak to Power, but he was gone; and for the +first moment of my life, the bitterness of rivalry crossed my mind. It was +true I had resigned all pretensions in his favor. My last meeting with +Lucy had been merely to justify my own character against an impression +that weighed heavily on me; still, I thought he might have waited,—another +day and I should be far away, neither to witness nor grieve over his +successes. +</p> +<p> +“You still hesitate,” whispered some one near me. +</p> +<p> +I wheeled round suddenly, but could not detect the speaker, and was again +relapsing into my own musings, when the same voice repeated,— +</p> +<p> +“The white domino with the blue cape. Adieu.” +</p> +<p> +Without waiting to reflect upon the singularity of the occurrence, I now +hurried along through the dense crowd, searching on every side for the +domino. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t that O’Malley?” said an Englishman to his friend. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” replied the other; “the very man we want. O’Malley, find a partner; +we have been searching a <i>vis-à -vis</i> this ten minutes.” +</p> +<p> +The speaker was an officer I had met at Sir George Dashwood’s. “How did +you discover me?” said I, suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“Not a very difficult thing if you carry your mask in your hand that way,” +was the answer. +</p> +<p> +And I now perceived that in the distraction of my thoughts I had been +carrying my mask in this manner since my coming into the room. +</p> +<p> +“There now, what say you to the blue domino? I saw her foot, and a girl +with such an instep must be a waltzer.” +</p> +<p> +I looked round, a confused effort at memory passing across my mind; my +eyes fell at the instant upon the embroidered sleeve of the domino, where +a rosebud worked in silver at once reminded me of Catrina’s secret. “Ah,” +thought I, “La Senhora herself!” She was leaning upon the arm of a tall +and portly figure in black; who this was I knew not, nor sought to +discover, but at once advancing towards Donna Inez asked her to waltz. +</p> +<p> +Without replying to me she turned towards her companion, who seemed as it +were to press her acceptance of my offer; she hesitated, however, for an +instant, and curtsying deeply, declined it. “Well,” thought I, “she at +least has not recognized me.” +</p> +<p> +“And yet, Senhora,” said I, half jestingly, “I <i>have</i> seen you join a +bolero before now.” +</p> +<p> +“You evidently mistake me,” was the reply, but in a voice so well feigned +as almost to convince me she was right. +</p> +<p> +“Nay, more,” said I, “under your own fair auspices did I myself first +adventure one.” +</p> +<p> +“Still in error, believe me; I am not known to you.” +</p> +<p> +“And yet I have a talisman to refresh your memory, should you dare me +further.” +</p> +<p> +At this instant my hand was grasped warmly by a passing mask. I turned +round rapidly, and Power whispered in my ear,— +</p> +<p> +“Yours forever, Charley; you’ve made my fortune.” +</p> +<p> +As he hurried on I could perceive that he supported a lady on his arm, and +that she wore a loose white domino with a deep blue cape. In a second all +thought of Inez was forgotten, and anxious only to conceal my emotion, I +turned away and mingled in the crowd. Lost to all around me, I wandered +carelessly, heedlessly on, neither noticing the glittering throng around, +nor feeling a thought in common with the gay and joyous spirits that +flitted by. The night wore on, my melancholy and depression growing ever +deeper, yet so spell-bound was I that I could not leave the place. A +secret sense that it was the last time we were to meet had gained entire +possession of me, and I longed to speak a few words ere we parted forever. +</p> +<p> +I was leaning on a window which looked out upon the courtyard, when +suddenly the tramp of horses attracted my attention, and I saw by the +clear moonlight a group of mounted men, whose long cloaks and tall helmets +announced dragoons, standing around the porch. At the same moment the door +of the <i>salon</i> opened, and an officer in undress, splashed and +travel-stained, entered. Making his way rapidly through the crowd, he +followed the servant, who introduced him towards the supper-room. Thither +the dense mass now pressed to learn the meaning of the singular +apparition; while my own curiosity, not less excited, led me towards the +door. As I crossed the hall, however, my progress was interrupted by a +group of persons, among whom I saw an aide-de-camp of Lord Wellington’s +staff, narrating, as it were, some piece of newly-arrived intelligence. I +had no time for further inquiry, when a door opened near me, and Sir +George Dashwood, accompanied by several general officers, came forth, the +officer I had first seen enter the ball-room along with them. Every one +was by this unmasked, and eagerly looking to hear what had occurred. +</p> +<p> +“Then, Dashwood, you’ll send off an orderly at once?” said an old general +officer beside me. +</p> +<p> +“This instant, my Lord. I’ll despatch an aide-de-camp. The troops shall be +in marching order before noon. Oh, here’s the man I want! O’Malley, come +here. Mount your horse and dash into town. Send for Brotherton and +M’Gregor to quarters, and announce the news as quickly as possible.” +</p> +<p> +“But what am I to announce, Sir George?” +</p> +<p> +“That the French are in retreat,—Massena in retreat, my lad.” +</p> +<p> +A tremendous cheer at this instant burst from the hundreds in the <i>salon</i>, +who now heard the glorious tidings. Another cheer and another followed,—ten +thousand <i>vivas</i> rose amidst the crash of the band, as it broke into +a patriotic war chant. Such a scene of enthusiasm and excitement I never +witnessed. Some wept with joy. Others threw themselves into their friends’ +arms. +</p> +<p> +“They’re all mad, every mother’s son of them!” said Maurice Quill, as he +elbowed his way through the mass; “and here’s an old vestal won’t leave my +arm. She has already embraced me three times, and we’ve finished a flask +of Malaga between us.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, O’Malley, are you ready for the road?” +</p> +<p> +My horse was by this time standing saddled at the front. I sprang at once +to the saddle, and without waiting for a second order, set out for Lisbon. +Ten minutes had scarce elapsed,—the very shouts of joy of the +delighted city were still ringing in my ears,—when I was once again +back at the villa. As I mounted the steps into the hall, a carriage drew +up,—it was Sir George Dashwood’s. He came forward, his daughter +leaning upon his arm. +</p> +<p> +“Why, O’Malley, I thought you had gone.” +</p> +<p> +“I have returned, Sir George. Colonel Brotherton is in waiting, and the +staff also. I have received orders to set out for Benejos, where the 14th +are stationed, and have merely delayed to say adieu.” +</p> +<p> +“Adieu, my dear boy, and God bless you!” said the warm-hearted old man, as +he pressed my hand between both his. “Lucy, here’s your old friend about +to leave; come and say good-by.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Dashwood had stopped behind to adjust her shawl. I flew to her +assistance. “Adieu, Miss Dashwood, and forever!” said I, in a broken +voice, as I took her hand in mine. “This is not your domino,” said I, +eagerly, as a blue silk one peeped from beneath her mantle; “and the +sleeve, too,—did you wear this?” She blushed slightly, and assented. +</p> +<p> +“I changed with the senhora, who wore mine all the evening.” +</p> +<p> +“And Power, then, was not your partner?” +</p> +<p> +“I should think not,—for I never danced.” +</p> +<p> +“Lucy, my love, are you ready? Come, be quick.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, Mr. O’Malley, and <i>au revoir, n’est-ce pas?</i>” +</p> +<p> +I drew her glove from her hand as she spoke, and pressing my lips upon her +fingers, placed her within the carriage. “Adieu, and <i>au revoir!</i>” +said I. The carriage turned away, and a white glove was all that remained +to me of Lucy Dashwood! +</p> +<p> +The carriage had turned the angle of the road, and its retiring sounds +were growing gradually fainter, ere I recovered myself sufficiently to +know where I stood. One absorbing thought alone possessed me. Lucy was not +lost to me forever; Power was not my rival in that quarter,—that was +enough for me. I needed no more to nerve my arm and steel my heart. As I +reflected thus, the long loud blast of a trumpet broke upon the silence of +the night, and admonished me to depart. I hurried to my room to make my +few preparations for the road; but Mike had already anticipated everything +here, and all was in readiness. +</p> +<p> +But one thing now remained,—to make my adieu to the senhora. With +this intent, I descended a narrow winding stair which led from my +dressing-room, and opened by a little terrace upon the flower-garden +beside her apartments. +</p> +<p> +As I crossed the gravelled alley, I could not but think of the last time I +had been there. It was on the eve of departure for the Douro. I recalled +the few and fleeting moments of our leave-taking, and a thought flashed +upon me,—what if she cared for me! What if, half in coquetry, half +in reality, her heart was mixed up in those passages which daily +association gives rise to? +</p> +<p> +I could not altogether acquit myself of all desire to make her believe me +her admirer; nay, more, with the indolent <i>abandon</i> of my country, I +had fallen into a thousand little schemes to cheat the long hours away, +which, having no other object than the happiness of the moment, might yet +color all her after-life with sorrow. +</p> +<p> +Let no one rashly pronounce me a coxcomb, vain and pretentious, for all +this. In my inmost heart I had no feeling of selfishness mingled with the +consideration. It was from no sense of my own merits, no calculation of my +own chances of success, that I thought thus. Fortunately, at eighteen +one’s heart is uncontaminated with such an alloy of vanity. The first +emotions of youth are pure and holy things, tempering our fiercer +passions, and calming the rude effervescence of our boyish spirit; and +when we strive to please, and hope to win affection, we insensibly fashion +ourselves to nobler and higher thoughts, catching from the source of our +devotion a portion of that charm that idealizes daily life, and makes our +path in it a glorious and a bright one. +</p> +<p> +Who would not exchange all the triumph of his later days, the proudest +moments of successful ambition, the richest trophies of hard-won daring,—for +the short and vivid flash that first shot through his heart and told him +he was loved. It is the opening consciousness of life, the first sense of +power that makes of the mere boy a man,—a man in all his daring and +his pride; and hence it is that in early life we feel ever prone to +indulge those fancied attachments which elevate and raise us in our own +esteem. Such was the frame of my mind when I entered the little boudoir +where once before I had ventured on a similar errand. +</p> +<p> +As I closed the sash-door behind me, the gray dawn of breaking day +scarcely permitted my seeing anything around me, and I felt my way towards +the door of an adjoining room, where I supposed it was likely I should +find the senhora. As I proceeded thus, with cautious step and beating +heart, I thought I heard a sound near me. I stopped and listened, and was +about again to move on, when a half-stifled sob fell upon my ear. Slowly +and silently guiding my steps towards the sounds, I reached a sofa, when, +my eyes growing by degrees more accustomed to the faint light, I could +detect a figure which, at a glance, I recognized as Donna Inez. A cashmere +shawl was loosely thrown around her, and her face was buried in her hands. +As she lay, to all seeming, still and insensible before me, her beautiful +hair fell heavily upon her back and across her arm, and her whole attitude +denoted the very abandonment of grief. A short convulsive shudder which +slightly shook her frame alone gave evidence of life, except when a sob, +barely audible in the death-like silence, escaped her. +</p> +<p> +I knelt silently down beside her, and gently withdrawing her hand, placed +it within mine. A dreadful feeling of self-condemnation shot through me as +I felt the gentle pressure of her taper fingers, which rested without a +struggle in my grasp. My tears fell hot and fast upon that pale hand, as I +bent in sadness over it, unable to utter a word. A rush of conflicting +thoughts passed through my brain, and I knew not what to do. I now had no +doubt upon my mind that she loved me, and that her present affliction was +caused by my approaching departure. +</p> +<p> +“Dearest Inez!” I stammered out at length, as I pressed her hands to my +lips,—“dearest Inez!”—a faint sob, and a slight pressure of +her hand, was the only reply. “I have come to say good-by,” continued I, +gaining a little courage as I spoke; “a long good-by, too, in all +likelihood. You have heard that we are ordered away,—there, don’t +sob, dearest, and, believe me, I had wished ere we parted to have spoken +to you calmly and openly; but, alas, I cannot,—I scarcely know what +I say.” +</p> +<p> +“You will not forget me?” said she, in a low voice, that sank into my very +heart. “You will not forget me?” As she spoke, her hand dropped heavily +upon my shoulder, and her rich luxuriant hair fell upon my cheek. What a +devil of a thing is proximity to a downy cheek and a black eyelash, more +especially when they belong to one whom you are disposed to believe not +indifferent to you! What I did at this precise moment there is no +necessity for recording, even had not an adage interdicted such +confessions, nor can I now remember what I said; but I can well recollect +how, gradually warming with my subject, I entered into a kind of +half-declaration of attachment, intended most honestly to be a mere <i>exposé</i> +of my own unworthiness to win her favor, and my resolution to leave Lisbon +and its neighborhood forever. +</p> +<p> +Let not any one blame me rashly if he has not experienced the difficulty +of my position. The impetus of love-making is like the ardor of a +fox-hunt. You care little that the six-bar gate before you is the boundary +of another gentleman’s preserves or the fence of his pleasure-ground. You +go slap along at a smashing-pace, with your head up, and your hand low, +clearing all before you, the opposing difficulties to your progress giving +half the zest, because all the danger to your career. So it is with love; +the gambling spirit urges one ever onward, and the chance of failure is a +reason for pursuit, where no other argument exists. +</p> +<p> +“And you do love me?” said the senhora, with a soft, low whisper that most +unaccountably suggested anything but comfort to me. +</p> +<p> +“Love you, Inez? By this kiss—I’m in an infernal scrape!” said I, +muttering this last half of my sentence to myself. +</p> +<p> +“And you’ll never be jealous again?” +</p> +<p> +“Never, by all that’s lovely!—your own sweet lips. That’s the very +last thing to reproach me with.” +</p> +<p> +“And you promise me not to mind that foolish boy? For, after all, you +know, it was mere flirtation,—if even that.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll never think of him again,” said I, while my brain was burning to +make out her meaning. “But, dearest, there goes the trumpet-call—” +</p> +<p> +“And, as for Pedro Mascarenhas, I never liked him.” +</p> +<p> +“Are you quite sure, Inez?” +</p> +<p> +“I swear it!—so no more of him. Gonzales Cordenza—I’ve broke +with him long since. So that you see, dearest Frederic—” +</p> +<p> +“Frederic!” said I, starting almost to my feet with, amazement, while she +continued:— +</p> +<p> +“I’m your own,—all your own!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, the coquette, the heartless jilt!” groaned I, half-aloud. +</p> +<p> +“And O’Malley, Inez, poor Charley!—what of him?” +</p> +<p> +“Poor thing! I can’t help him. But he’s such a puppy, the lesson may do +him good.” +</p> +<p> +“But perhaps he loved you, Inez?” +</p> +<p> +“To be sure he did; I wished him to do so,—I can’t bear not to be +loved. But, Frederic, tell me, may I trust you,—will you keep +faithful to me?” +</p> +<p> +“Sweetest Inez! by this last kiss I swear that such as I kneel before you +now, you’ll ever find me.” +</p> +<p> +A foot upon the gravel-walk without now called me to my feet; I sprang +towards the door, and before Inez had lifted her head from the sofa, I had +reached the garden. A figure muffled in a cavalry cloak passed near me, +but without noticing me, and the next moment I had cleared the paling, and +was hurrying towards the stable, where I had ordered Mike to be in +waiting. +</p> +<p> +The faint streak of dull pink which announces the coming day stretched +beneath the dark clouds of the night, and the chill air of the morning was +already stirring in the leaves. +</p> +<p> +As I passed along by a low beech hedge which skirted the avenue, I was +struck by the sound of voices near me. I stopped to listen, and soon +detected in one of the speakers my friend Mickey Free; of the other I was +not long in ignorance. +</p> +<p> +“Love you, is it, bathershin? It’s worship you, adore you, my darling,—that’s +the word! There, acushla, don’t cry; dry your eyes—Oh, murther, it’s +a cruel thing to tear one’s self away from the best of living, with the +run of the house in drink and kissing! Bad luck to it for campaigning, any +way, I never liked it!” +</p> +<p> +Catrina’s reply,—for it was she,—I could not gather; but Mike +resumed:— +</p> +<p> +“Ay, just so, sore bones and wet grass, <i>accadenté</i>, and +half-rations. Oh, that I ever saw the day when I took to it! Listen to me +now, honey; here it is, on my knees I am before you, and throth it’s not +more nor three, may be four, young women I’d say the like to; bad scran to +me if I wouldn’t marry you out of a face this blessed morning just as soon +as I’d look at ye. Arrah, there now, don’t be screeching and bawling; +what’ll the neighbors think of us, and my own heart’s destroyed with grief +entirely.” +</p> +<p> +Poor Catrina’s voice returned an inaudible answer, and not wishing any +longer to play the eavesdropper, I continued my path towards the stable. +The distant noises from the city announced a state of movement and +preparation, and more than one orderly passed the road near me at a +gallop. As I turned into the wide courtyard, Mike, breathless and flurried +with running, overtook me. +</p> +<p> +“Are the horses ready, Mike?” said I; “we must start this instant?” +</p> +<p> +“They’ve just finished a peck of oats apiece, and faix, that same may be a +stranger to them this day six months.” +</p> +<p> +“And the baggage, too?” +</p> +<p> +“On the cars, with the staff and the light brigade. It was down there I +was now, to see all was right.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’m quite aware; and now bring out the cattle. I hope Catrina +received your little consolations well. That seems a very sad affair.” +</p> +<p> +“Murder, real murder, devil a less! It’s no matter where you go, from +Clonmel to Chayney, it’s all one; they’ve a way of getting round you. Upon +my soul, it’s like the pigs they are.” +</p> +<p> +“Like pigs, Mike? That appears a strange compliment you’ve selected to pay +them.” +</p> +<p> +“Ay, just like the pigs, no less. May be you’ve heard what happened to +myself up at Moronha?” +</p> +<p> +“Look to that girth there. Well, go on.” +</p> +<p> +“I was coming along one morning, just as day was beginning to break, when +I sees a slip of a pig trotting before me, with nobody near him; but as +the road was lonely, and myself rather down in heart, I thought, Musha! +but yer fine company, anyhow, av a body could only keep you with him. But, +ye see, a pig—saving your presence—is a baste not easily +flattered, so I didn’t waste time and blarney upon him, but I took off my +belt, and put it round its neck as neat as need be; but, as the devil’s +luck would have it, I didn’t go half an hour when a horse came galloping +up behind me. I turned round, and, by the blessed light, it was Sir Dinny +himself was on it!” +</p> +<p> +“Sir Dennis Pack?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, bad luck to his hook nose. ‘What are you doing there, my fine +fellow?’ says he. ‘What’s that you have dragging there behind you?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘A boneen, sir,’ says I. ‘Isn’t he a fine crayture?—av he wasn’t so +troublesome.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Troublesome, troublesome—what do you mean?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Just so,’ says I. ‘Isn’t he parsecutiug the life out of me the whole +morning, following me about everywhere I go? Contrary bastes they always +was.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I advise you to try and part company, my friend, notwithstanding,’ says +he; ‘or may be it’s the same end you’ll be coming to, and not long +either.’ And faix, I took his advice; and ye see, Mister Charles, it’s +just as I was saying, they’re like the women, the least thing in life is +enough to bring them after us, <i>av ye only put the ‘comether’</i> upon +them.” +</p> +<p> +“And now adieu to the Villa Nuova,” said I, as I rode slowly down the +avenue, turning ever and anon in my saddle to look back on each well-known +spot. +</p> +<p> +A heavy sigh from Mike responded to my words. +</p> +<p> +“A long, a last farewell!” said I, waving my hand towards the trellised +walls, now half-hidden by the trees; and, as I spoke, that heaviness of +the heart came over me that seems inseparable from leave-taking. The hour +of parting seems like a warning to us that all our enjoyments and +pleasures here are destined to a short and merely fleeting existence; and +as each scene of life passes away never to return, we are made to feel +that youth and hope are passing with them; and that, although the fair +world be as bright, and its pleasures as rich in abundance, our capacity +of enjoyment is daily, hourly diminishing; and while all around us smiles +in beauty and happiness, that we, alas! are not what we were. +</p> +<p> +Such was the tenor of my thoughts as I reached the road, when they were +suddenly interrupted by my man Mike, whose meditations were following a +somewhat similar channel, though at last inclining to different +conclusions. He coughed a couple of times as if to attract my attention, +and then, as it were half thinking aloud, he muttered,— +</p> +<p> +“I wonder if we treated the young ladies well, anyhow, Mister Charles, +for, faix, I’ve my doubts on it.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIX. +</h2> +<p> +THE LINES. +</p> +<p> +When we reached Lescas, we found that an officer of Lord Wellington’s +staff had just arrived from the lines, and was occupied in making known +the general order from headquarters; which set forth, with customary +brevity, that the French armies, under the command of Massena, had retired +from their position, and were in full retreat,—the second and third +corps, which had been stationed at Villa Franca, having marched, during +the night of the 15th, in the direction of Manal. The officers in command +of divisions were ordered to repair instantly to Pero Negro, to consult +upon a forward movement, Admiral Berkeley being written to to provide +launches to pass over General Hill’s, or any other corps which might be +selected, to the left bank of the Tagus. All now was excitement, +heightened by the unexpected nature of an occurrence which not even +speculation had calculated upon. It was but a few days before, and the +news had reached Torres Vedras that a powerful reinforcement was in march +to join Massena’s army, and their advanced guard had actually reached +Santarem. The confident expectation was, therefore, that an attack upon +the lines was meditated. Now, however, this prospect existed no longer; +for scarcely had the heavy mists of the lowering day disappeared, when the +vast plain, so lately peopled by the thickened ranks and dark masses of a +great army, was seen in its whole extent deserted and untenanted. +</p> +<p> +The smouldering fires of the pickets alone marked where the troops had +been posted, but not a man of that immense force was to be seen. General +Fane, who had been despatched with a brigade of Portuguese cavalry and +some artillery, hung upon the rear of the retiring army, and from him we +learned that the enemy were continuing their retreat northward, having +occupied Santarem with a strong force to cover the movement. Crawfurd was +ordered to the front with the light division, the whole army following in +the same direction, except Hill’s corps, which, crossing the river at +Velada, was intended to harass the enemy’s flank, and assist our future +operations. +</p> +<p> +Such, in brief, was the state of affairs when I reached Villa Franca +towards noon, and received orders to join my regiment, then forming part +of Sir Stapleton Cotton’s brigade. +</p> +<p> +It must be felt to be thoroughly appreciated, the enthusiastic pleasure +with which one greets his old corps after some months of separation: the +bounding ecstasy with which the weary eye rests on the old familiar faces, +dear by every association of affection and brotherhood; the anxious look +for this one and for that; the thrill of delight sent through the heart as +the well-remembered march swells upon the ear; the very notes of that +rough voice which we have heard amidst the crash of battle and the rolling +of artillery, speak softly to our senses like a father’s welcome; from the +well-tattered flag that waves above us to the proud steed of the war-worn +trumpeter, each has a niche in our affection. +</p> +<p> +If ever there was a corps calculated to increase and foster these +sentiments, the 14th Light Dragoons was such. The warm affection, the +truly heart-felt regard, which existed among my brother officers, made of +our mess a happy home. Our veteran colonel, grown gray in campaigning, was +like a father to us; while the senior officers, tempering the warm blood +of impetuous youth with their hard-won experience, threw a charm of peace +and tranquillity over all our intercourse that made us happy when +together, and taught us to feel that, whether seated around the watch-fire +or charging amidst the squadrons of the enemy, we were surrounded by those +devoted heart and soul to aid us. +</p> +<p> +Gallant Fourteenth!—ever first in every gay scheme of youthful +jollity, as foremost in the van to meet the foe—how happy am I to +recall the memory of your bright looks and bold hearts; of your manly +daring and your bold frankness; of your merry voices, as I have heard them +in the battle or in the bivouac! Alas and alas, that I should indulge such +recollections alone! How few—how very few—are left of those +with whom I trod the early steps of life, whose bold cheer I have heard +above the clashing sabres of the enemy, whose broken voice I have listened +to above the grave of a comrade! The dark pines of the Pyrenees wave above +some, the burning sands of India cover others, and the wide plains of +Salamanca are the abiding-place of still more. +</p> +<p> +“Here comes O’Malley!” shouted a well-known voice, as I rode down the +little slope at the foot of which a group of officers were standing beside +their horses. +</p> +<p> +“Welcome, thou man of Galway!” cried Hampden; “delighted to have you once +more among us. How confoundedly well the fellow is looking!” +</p> +<p> +“Lisbon beef seems better prog than commissariat biscuit!” said another. +</p> +<p> +“A’weel, Charley?” said my friend the Scotch doctor; “how’s a’ wi’ ye man? +Ye seem to thrive on your mishaps! How cam’ ye by that braw beastie ye’re +mounted on?” +</p> +<p> +“A present, Doctor; the gift of a very warm friend.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope you invited him to the mess, O’Malley! For, by Jove, our stables +stand in need of his kind offices! There he goes! Look at him! What a +slashing pace for a heavy fellow!” This observation was made with +reference to a well-known officer on the commander-in-chief’s staff, whose +weight—some two and twenty stone—never was any impediment to +his bold riding. +</p> +<p> +“Egad, O’Malley, you’ll soon be as pretty a light-weight as our friend +yonder. Ah, there’s a storm going on there! Here comes the colonel!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, O’Malley, are you come back to us? Happy to see you, boy! Hope we +shall not lose you again in a hurry! We can’t spare the scapegraces! +There’s plenty of skirmishing going on! Crawfurd always asks for the +scapegraces for the pickets!” +</p> +<p> +I shook my gallant colonel’s hand, while I acknowledged, as best I might, +his ambiguous compliment. +</p> +<p> +“I say, lads,” resumed the colonel, “squad your men and form on the road! +Lord Wellington’s coming down this way to have a look at you! O’Malley, I +have General Crawfurd’s orders to offer you your old appointment on his +staff; without you prefer to remaining with the regiment!” +</p> +<p> +“I can never be sufficiently grateful, sir, to the general: but, in fact—I +think—that is, I believe—” +</p> +<p> +“You’d rather be among your own fellows. Out with it boy! I like you all +the better! But come, we mustn’t let the general know that; so that I +shall forget to tell you all about it. Eh, isn’t that best? But join your +troop now; I hear the staff coming this way.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, a crowd of horseman were seen advancing towards us at a sharp +trot, their waving plumes and gorgeous aiguillettes denoting their rank as +generals of division. In the midst, as they came nearer, I could +distinguish one whom once seen there was no forgetting; his plain blue +frock and gray trousers, unstrapped beneath his boots, not a little unlike +the trim accuracy of costume around him. As he rode to the head of the +leading squadron, the staff fell back and he stood alone before us; for a +second there was a dead silence, but the next instant—by what +impulse tell who can—one tremendous cheer burst from the entire +regiment. It was like the act of one man; so sudden, so spontaneous. While +every cheek glowed, and every eye sparkled with enthusiasm, he alone +seemed cool and unexcited, as, gently raising his hand, he motioned them +to silence. +</p> +<p> +“Fourteenth, you are to be where you always desire to be,—in the +advanced guard of the army. I have nothing to say on the subject of your +conduct in the field. I know <i>you</i>; but if in pursuit of the enemy, I +hear of any misconduct towards the people of the country, or any +transgression of the general orders regarding pillage, by G——, +I’ll punish you as severely as the worst corps in the service, and you +know <i>me!</i>” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, tear an ages, listen to that; and there’s to be no plunder after +all!” said Mickey Free; and for an instant the most I could do was not to +burst into a fit of laughter. The word, “Forward!” was given at the +moment, and we moved past in close column, while that penetrating eye, +which seemed to read our very thoughts, scanned us from one end of the +line to the other. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Charley,” said the captain of my troop, in a whisper,—“I +say, that confounded cheer we gave got us that lesson; he can’t stand that +kind of thing.” +</p> +<p> +“By Jove! I never felt more disposed than to repeat it,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“No, no, my boy, we’ll give him the honors, nine times nine; but wait till +evening. Look at old Merivale there. I’ll swear he’s saying something +devilish civil to him. Do you see the old fellow’s happy look?” +</p> +<p> +And so it was; the bronzed, hard-cast features of the veteran soldier were +softened into an expression of almost boyish delight, as he sat, +bare-headed, bowing to his very saddle, while Lord Wellington was +speaking. +</p> +<p> +As I looked, my heart throbbed painfully against my side, my breath came +quick, and I muttered to myself, “What would I not give to be in his place +now!” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XX. +</h2> +<p> +THE RETREAT OF THE FRENCH. +</p> +<p> +It is not my intention, were I even adequate to the task, to trace with +anything like accuracy the events of the war at this period. In fact, to +those who, like myself, were performing a mere subaltern character, the +daily movements of our own troops, not to speak of the continual changes +of the enemy, were perfectly unknown, and an English newspaper was more +ardently longed for in the Peninsula than by the most eager crowd of a +London coffee-room; nay, the results of the very engagements we were +ourselves concerned in, more than once, first reached us through the press +of our own country. It is easy enough to understand this. The officer in +command of the regiment, and how much more, the captain of a troop, or the +subaltern under him, knows nothing beyond the sphere of his own immediate +duty; by the success or failure of his own party his knowledge is bounded, +but how far he or his may influence the fortune, of the day, or of what is +taking place elsewhere, he is totally ignorant; and an old Fourteenth man +did not badly explain, his ideas on the matter, who described Busaco as “a +great noise and a great smoke, booming artillery and rattling small-arms, +infernal confusion, and to all seeming, incessant blundering, orders and +counter-orders, ending with a crushing charge; when, not being hurt +himself, nor having hurt anybody, he felt much pleased to learn that they +had gained a victory.” It is then sufficient for all the purposes of my +narrative, when I mention that Massena continued his retreat by Santarem +and Thomar, followed by the allied army, who, however desirous of pressing +upon the rear of their enemy, were still obliged to maintain their +communication with the lines, and also to watch the movement of the large +armies which, under Ney and Soult, threatened at any unguarded moment to +attack them in flank. +</p> +<p> +The position which Massena occupied at Santarem, naturally one of great +strength, and further improved by intrenchments, defied any attack on the +part of Lord Wellington, until the arrival of the long-expected +reinforcements from England. These had sailed in the early part of +January, but delayed by adverse winds, only reached Lisbon on the 2d of +March; and so correctly was the French marshal apprised of the +circumstance, and so accurately did he anticipate the probable result, +that on the fourth he broke up his encampment, and recommenced his +retrograde movement, with an army now reduced to forty thousand fighting +men, and with two thousand sick, destroying all his baggage and guns that +could not be horsed. By a demonstration of advancing upon the Zezere, by +which he held the allies in check, he succeeded in passing his wounded to +the rear, while Ney, appearing with a large force suddenly at Leiria, +seemed bent upon attacking the lines. By these stratagems two days’ march +were gained, and the French retreated upon Torres Novas and Thomar, +destroying the bridges behind them as they passed. +</p> +<p> +The day was breaking on the 12th of March, when the British first came in +sight of the retiring enemy. We were then ordered to the front, and broken +up into small parties, threw out our skirmishers. The French chasseurs, +usually not indisposed to accept this species of encounter, showed now +less of inclination than usual, and either retreated before us, or hovered +in masses to check our advance; in this way the morning was passed, when +towards noon we perceived that the enemy was drawn up in battle array, +occupying the height above the village of Redinha. This little straggling +village is situated in a hollow traversed by a narrow causeway which opens +by a long and dangerous defile upon a bridge, on either side of which a +dense wood afforded a shelter for light troops, while upon the commanding +eminence above a battery of heavy guns was seen in position. +</p> +<p> +In front of the village a brigade of artillery and a division of infantry +were drawn up so skilfully as to give the appearance of a considerable +force, so that when Lord Wellington came up he spent some time in +examining the enemy’s position. Erskine’s brigade was immediately ordered +up, and the Fifty-second and Ninety-fourth, and a company of the +Forty-third were led against the wooded slopes upon the French right. +Picton simultaneously attacked the left, and in less than an hour, both +were successful, and Ney’s position was laid bare; his skirmishers, +however, continued to hold their ground in front, and La Ferrière, a +colonel of hussars, dashing boldly forward at this very moment, carried +off fourteen prisoners from the very front of our line. Deceived by the +confidence of the enemy, Lord Wellington now prepared for an attack in +force. The infantry were therefore formed into line, and, at the signal of +three shots fired from the centre, began their foremost movement. +</p> +<p> +Bending up a gentle curve, the whole plain glistened with the glancing +bayonets, and the troops marched majestically onward; while the light +artillery and the cavalry, bounding forward from the left and centre, +rushed eagerly towards the foe. One deafening discharge from the French +guns opened at the moment, with a general volley of small-arms. The smoke +for an instant obscured everything, and when that cleared away, no enemy +was to be seen. +</p> +<p> +The British pressed madly on, like heated blood-hounds; but when they +descended the slope, the village of Redinha was in flames, and the French +in full retreat beyond it. A single howitzer seemed our only trophy, and +even this we were not destined to boast of, for from the midst of the +crashing flame and dense smoke of the burning village, a troop of dragoons +rushed forward, and charging our infantry, carried it off. The struggle, +though but for a moment, cost them dear: twenty of their comrades lay dead +upon the spot; but they were resolute and determined, and the officer who +led them on, fighting hand to hand with a soldier of the Forty-second, +cheered them as they retired. His gallant bearing, and his coat covered +with decorations, bespoke him one of note, and well it might; he who thus +perilled his life to maintain the courage of his soldiers at the +commencement of a retreat, was none other than Ney himself, <i>le plus +brave des braves</i>. The British pressed hotly on, and the light troops +crossed the river almost at the same time with the French. Ney, however, +fell back upon Condeixa, where his main body was posted, and all farther +pursuit was for the present abandoned. +</p> +<p> +At Casa Noval and at Foz d’Aronce, the allies were successful; but the +French still continued to retire, burning the towns and villages in their +rear, and devastating the country along the whole line of march by every +expedient of cruelty the heart of man has ever conceived. In the words of +one whose descriptions, however fraught with the most wonderful power of +painting, are equally marked by truth, “Every horror that could make war +hideous attended this dreadful march. Distress, conflagration, death in +all modes,—from wounds, from fatigue, from water, from the flames, +from starvation,—vengeance, unlimited vengeance, was on every side.” +The country was a desert! +</p> +<p> +Such was the exhaustion of the allies, who suffered even greater +privations than the enemy, that they halted upon the 16th, unable to +proceed farther; and the river Ceira, swollen and unfordable, flowed +between the rival armies. +</p> +<p> +The repose of even one day was a most grateful interruption to the +harassing career we had pursued for some time past; and it seemed that my +comrades felt, like myself, that such an opportunity was by no means to be +neglected; but while I am devoting so much space and trespassing on my +reader’s patience thus far with narrative of flood and field, let me steal +a chapter for what will sometimes seem a scarcely less congenial topic, +and bring back the recollection of a glorious night in the Peninsula. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXI. +</h2> +<p> +PATRICK’S DAY IN THE PENINSULA. +</p> +<p> +The <i>réveil</i> had not yet sounded, when I felt my shoulder shaken +gently as I lay wrapped up in my cloak beneath a prickly pear-tree. +</p> +<p> +“Lieutenant O’Malley, sir; a letter, sir; a bit of a note, your honor,” +said a voice that bespoke the bearer and myself were countrymen. I opened +it, and with difficulty, by the uncertain light, read as follows:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dear Charley,—As Lord Wellington, like a good Irishman as +he is, wouldn’t spoil Patrick’s Day by marching, we’ve got a little +dinner at our quarters to celebrate the holy times, as my uncle would +call it. Maurice, Phil Grady, and some regular trumps will all come, +so don’t disappoint us. I’ve been making punch all night, and +Casey, who has a knack at pastry, has made a goose-pie as big as a +portmanteau. Sharp seven, after parade. The second battalion of +the Fusiliers are quartered at Melanté, and we are next them. Bring +any of yours worth their liquor. Power is, I know, absent with the +staff; perhaps the Scotch doctor would come; try him. Carry over +a little mustard with you, if there be such in your parts. + +Yours, + +D. O’SHAUGHNESSY. + +Patrick’s day, and raining like blazes. +</pre> +<p> +Seeing that the bearer expected an answer, I scrawled the words, “I’m +there,” with my pencil on the back of the note, and again turned myself +round to sleep. My slumbers were, however, soon interrupted once more; for +the bugles of the light infantry and the hoarse trumpet of the cavalry +sounded the call, and I found to my surprise that, though halted, we were +by no means destined to a day of idleness. Dragoons were already mounted, +carrying orders hither and thither, and staff-officers were galloping +right and left. A general order commanded an inspection of the troops, and +within less than an hour from daybreak the whole army was drawn up under +arms. A thin, drizzling rain continued to fall during the early part of +the day, but the sun gradually dispelled the heavy vapor; and as the +bright verdure glittered in its beams, sending up all the perfumes of a +southern clime, I thought I had never seen a more lovely morning. The +staff were stationed upon a little knoll beside the river, round the base +of which the troops defiled, at first in orderly, then in quick time, the +bands playing and the colors flying. In the same brigade with us the +Eighty-eighth came, and as they neared the commander-in-chief, their +quick-step was suddenly stopped, and after a pause of a few seconds, the +band struck up “St. Patrick’s Day;” the notes were caught up by the other +Irish regiments, and amidst one prolonged cheer from the whole line, the +gallant fellows moved past. +</p> +<p> +The grenadier company were drawn up beside the road, and I was not long in +detecting my friend O’Shaughnessy, who wore a tremendous shamrock in his +shako. +</p> +<p> +“Left face, wheel! Quick march! Don’t forget the mustard!” said the bold +major; and a loud roar of laughing from my brother officers followed him +off the ground. I soon explained the injunction, and having invited some +three or four to accompany me to the dinner, waited with all patience for +the conclusion of the parade. +</p> +<p> +The sun was setting as I mounted, and joined by Hampden, Baker, the +doctor, and another, set out for O’Shaughnessy’s quarters. As we rode +along, we were continually falling in with others bent upon the same +errand as ourselves, and ere we arrived at Melanté our party was some +thirty strong; and truly a most extraordinary procession did we form. Few +of the invited came without some contribution to the general stock; and +while a staff-officer flourished a ham, a smart hussar might be seen with +a plucked turkey, trussed for roasting; most carried bottles, as the +consumption of fluid was likely to be considerable; and one fat old major +jogged along on a broken-winded pony, with a basket of potatoes on his +arm. Good fellowship was the order of the day, and certainly a more jovial +squadron seldom was met together than ours. As we turned the angle of a +rising ground, a hearty cheer greeted us, and we beheld in front of an old +ordnance marquee a party of some fifty fellows engaged in all the pleasing +duties of the <i>cuisine</i>. Maurice, conspicuous above all, with a white +apron and a ladle in his hand, was running hither and thither, advising, +admonishing, instructing, and occasionally imprecating. Ceasing for a +second his functions, he gave us a cheer and a yell like that of an Indian +savage, and then resumed his duties beside a huge boiler, which, from the +frequency of his explorations into its contents, we judged to be punch. +</p> +<p> +“Charley, my son, I’ve a place for you; don’t forget. Where’s my learned +brother?—haven’t you brought him with you? Ah, Doctor, how goes it?” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0158.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Going out to Dinner. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Nae that bad, Master Quell: a’ things considered, we’ve had an awfu’ time +of it lately.” +</p> +<p> +“You know my friend Hampden, Maurice. Let me introduce Mr. Baker, Mr. +Maurice Quill. Where’s the major?” +</p> +<p> +“Here I am, my darling, and delighted to see you. Some of yours, O’Malley, +ain’t they? Proud to have you, gentlemen. Charley, we are obliged to have +several tables; but you are to be beside Maurice, so take your friends +with you. There goes the ‘Roast Beef;’ my heart warms to that old tune.” +</p> +<p> +Amidst a hurried recognition, and shaking of hands on every side, I +elbowed my way into the tent, and soon reached a corner, where, at a table +for eight, I found Maurice seated at one end; a huge, purple-faced old +major, whom he presented to us as Bob Mahon, occupied the other. +O’Shaughnessy presided at the table next to us, but near enough to join in +all the conviviality of ours. +</p> +<p> +One must have lived for some months upon hard biscuit and harder beef to +relish as we did the fare before us, and to form an estimate of our +satisfaction. If the reader cannot fancy Van Amburgh’s lions in red coats +and epaulettes, he must be content to lose the effect of the picture. A +turkey rarely fed more than two people, and few were abstemious enough to +be satisfied with one chicken. The order of the viands, too, observed no +common routine, each party being happy to get what he could, and satisfied +to follow up his pudding with fish, or his tart with a sausage. Sherry, +champagne, London porter, Malaga, and even, I believe, Harvey’s sauce were +hobnobbed in; while hot punch, in teacups or tin vessels, was unsparingly +distributed on all sides. Achilles himself, they say, got tired of eating, +and though he consumed something like a prize ox to his own cheek, he at +length had to call for cheese, so that we at last gave in, and having +cleared away the broken tumbrels and baggage-carts of our army, cleared +for a general action. +</p> +<p> +“Now, lads!” cried the major, “I’m not going to lose your time and mine by +speaking; but there are a couple of toasts I must insist upon your +drinking with all the honors; and as I like despatch, we’ll couple them. +It so happens that our old island boasts of two of the finest fellows that +ever wore Russia ducks. None of your nonsensical geniuses, like poets or +painters or anything like that; but downright, straightforward, no-humbug +sort of devil-may-care and bad-luck-to-you kind of chaps,—real +Irishmen! Now, it’s a strange thing that they both had such an antipathy +to vermin, they spent their life in hunting them down and destroying them; +and whether they met toads at home or Johnny Crapaud abroad, it was all +one. [Cheers.] Just so, boys; they made them leave that; but I see you are +impatient, so I’ll not delay you, but fill to the brim, and with the best +cheer in your body, drink with me the two greatest Irishmen that ever +lived, ‘Saint Patrick and Lord Wellington.’” +</p> +<p> +The Englishmen laughed long and loud, while we cheered with an energy that +satisfied even the major. +</p> +<p> +“Who is to give us the chant? Who is to sing Saint Patrick?” cried +Maurice. “Come, Bob, out with it.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m four tumblers too low for that yet,” growled out the major. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, Charley, be you the man; or why not Dennis himself? Come, +Dennis, we cannot better begin our evening than with a song; let us have +our old friend ‘Larry M’Hale.’” +</p> +<p> +“Larry M’Hale!” resounded from all parts of the room, while O’Shaughnessy +rose once more to his legs. +</p> +<p> +“Faith, boys, I’m always ready to follow your lead; but what analogy can +exist between ‘Larry M’Hale’ and the toast we have just drank I can’t see +for the life of me; not but Larry would have made a strapping light +company man had he joined the army.” +</p> +<p> +“The song, the song!” cried several voices. +</p> +<p> +“Well, if you will have it, here goes:”— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +LARRY M’HALE. + +AIR,—<i>“It’s a bit of a thing</i>,” <i>etc</i>. + +Oh, Larry M’Hale he had little to fear, +And never could want when the crops didn’t fail; +He’d a house and demesne and eight hundred a year, +And the heart for to spend it, had Larry M’Hale! +The soul of a party, the life of a feast, +And an illigant song he could sing, I’ll be bail; +He would ride with the rector, and drink with the priest, +Oh, the broth of a boy was old Larry M’Hale! + +It’s little he cared for the judge or recorder, +His house was as big and as strong as a jail; +With a cruel four-pounder, he kept in great order, +He’d murder the country, would Larry M’Hale. +He’d a blunderbuss too, of horse-pistols a pair; +But his favorite weapon was always a flail. +I wish you could see how he’d empty a fair, +For he handled it neatly, did Larry M’Hale. + +His ancestors were kings before Moses was born, +His mother descended from great Grana Uaile; +He laughed all the Blakes and the Frenches to scorn; +They were mushrooms compared to old Larry M’Hale. +He sat down every day to a beautiful dinner, +With cousins and uncles enough for a tail; +And, though loaded with debt, oh, the devil a thinner, +Could law or the sheriff make Larry M’Hale! + +With a larder supplied and a cellar well stored, +None lived half so well, from Fair-Head to Kinsale, +As he piously said, “I’ve a plentiful board, +And the Lord he is good to old Larry M’Hale.” +So fill up your glass, and a high bumper give him, +It’s little we’d care for the tithes or repale; +For ould Erin would be a fine country to live in, +If we only had plenty like LARRY M’HALE. +</pre> +<p> +“Very singular style of person your friend Mr. M’Hale,” lisped a +spooney-looking cornet at the end of the table. +</p> +<p> +“Not in the country he belongs to, I assure you,” said Maurice; “but I +presume you were never in Ireland.” +</p> +<p> +“You are mistaken there,” resumed the other; “I was in Ireland, though I +confess not for a long time.” +</p> +<p> +“If I might be so bold,” cried Maurice, “how long?” +</p> +<p> +“Half an hour, by a stop-watch,” said the other, pulling up his stock; +“and I had quite enough of it in that time.” +</p> +<p> +“Pray give us your experiences,” cried out Bob Mahon; “they should be +interesting, considering your opportunities.” +</p> +<p> +“You are right,” said the cornet; “they were so; and as they illustrate a +feature in your amiable country, you shall have them.” +</p> +<p> +A general knocking upon the table announced the impatience of the company, +and when silence was restored the cornet began:— +</p> +<p> +When the ‘Bermuda’ transport sailed from Portsmouth for Lisbon, I happened +to make one of some four hundred interesting individuals who, before they +became food for powder, were destined to try their constitutions on +pickled pork. The second day after our sailing, the winds became adverse; +it blew a hurricane from every corner of the compass but the one it ought, +and the good ship, that should have been standing straight for the Bay of +Biscay, was scudding away under a double-reefed topsail towards the coast +of Labrador. For six days we experienced every sea-manoeuvre that usually +preludes a shipwreck, and at length, when, what from sea-sickness and +fear, we had become utterly indifferent to the result, the storm abated, +the sea went down, and we found ourselves lying comfortably in the harbor +of Cork, with a strange suspicion on our minds that the frightful scenes +of the past week had been nothing but a dream. +</p> +<p> +“‘Come, Mr. Medlicot,’ said the skipper to me, ‘we shall be here for a +couple of days to refit; had you not better go ashore and see the +country?’ +</p> +<p> +“I sprang to my legs with delight; visions of cowslips, larks, daisies, +and mutton-chops floated before my excited imagination, and in ten minutes +I found myself standing at that pleasant little inn at Cove which, +opposite Spike Island, rejoices in the name of the ‘Goat and Garters.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Breakfast, waiter,’ said I; ‘a beefsteak,—fresh beef, mark ye,—fresh +eggs, bread, milk, and butter, all fresh. No more hard tack,’ thought I; +‘no salt butter, but a genuine land breakfast.’ +</p> +<p> +“Up-stairs, No. 4, sir,’ said the waiter, as he flourished a dirty napkin, +indicating the way. +</p> +<p> +“Up-stairs I went, and in due time the appetizing little meal made its +appearance. Never did a minor’s eye revel over his broad acres with more +complacent enjoyment than did mine skim over the mutton and the muffin, +the tea-pot, the trout, and the devilled kidney, so invitingly spread out +before me. ‘Yes,’ thought I, as I smacked my lips, ‘this is the reward of +virtue; pickled pork is a probationary state that admirably fits us for +future enjoyments.’ I arranged my napkin upon my knee, seized my knife and +fork, and proceeded with most critical acumen to bisect a beefsteak. +Scarcely, however, had I touched it, when, with a loud crash, the plate +smashed beneath it, and the gravy ran piteously across the cloth. Before I +had time to account for the phenomenon, the door opened hastily, and the +waiter rushed into the room, his face beaming with smiles, while he rubbed +his hands in an ecstasy of delight. +</p> +<p> +“‘It’s all over, sir,’ said he; ‘glory be to God! it’s all done.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What’s over? What’s done?’ inquired I, with impatience. +</p> +<p> +“‘Mr. M’Mahon is satisfied,’ replied he, ‘and so is the other gentleman.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Who and what the devil do you mean?’ +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0163.jpg" style="width:100%;" +alt="Disadvantage of Breakfasting over a Duelling-party. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“‘It’s over, sir, I say,’ replied the waiter again; ‘he fired in the air.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Fired in the air! Was there a duel in the room below stairs?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, sir,’ said the waiter, with a benign smile. +</p> +<p> +“‘That will do,’ said I, as seizing my hat, I rushed out of the house, and +hurrying to the beach, took a boat for the ship. Exactly half an hour had +elapsed since my landing, but even those short thirty minutes had fully as +many reasons that although there may be few more amusing, there are some +safer places to live in than the Green Isle.” +</p> +<p> +A general burst of laughter followed the cornet’s story, which was +heightened in its effect by the gravity with which he told it. +</p> +<p> +“And after all,” said Maurice Quill, “now that people have given up making +fortunes for the insurance companies by living to the age of Methuselah, +there’s nothing like being an Irishman. In what other part of the +habitable globe can you cram so much adventure into one year? Where can +you be so often in love, in liquor, or in debt; and where can you get so +merrily out of the three? Where are promises to marry and promises to pay +treated with the same gentleman-like forbearance; and where, when you have +lost your heart and your fortune, are people found so ready to comfort you +in your reverses? Yes,” said Maurice, as he filled his glass up to the +brim, and eyed it lusciously for a moment,—“yes, darling, here’s +your health; the only girl I ever loved—in that part of the country, +I mean. Give her a bumper, lads, and I’ll give you a chant.” +</p> +<p> +“Name! name! name!” shouted several voices from different parts of the +table. +</p> +<p> +“Mary Draper!” said Maurice, filling his glass once more, while the name +was re-echoed by every lip at table. +</p> +<p> +“The song! the song!” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, I hope I haven’t forgotten it,” quoth Maurice. “No; here it is.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, after a couple of efforts to assure the pitch of his voice, the +worthy doctor began the following words to that very popular melody, +“Nancy Dawson:”— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +MARY DRAPER. + +AIR,—<i>Nancy Dawson</i>. + +Don’t talk to me of London dames, +Nor rave about your foreign flames, +That never lived, except in drames, +Nor shone, except on paper; +I’ll sing you ‘bout a girl I knew, +Who lived in Ballywhacmacrew, +And let me tell you, mighty few +Could equal Mary Draper. + +Her cheeks were red, her eyes were blue, +Her hair was brown of deepest hue, +Her foot was small, and neat to view, +Her waist was slight and taper; +Her voice was music to your ear, +A lovely brogue, so rich and clear, +Oh, the like I ne’er again shall hear, +As from sweet Mary Draper. + +She’d ride a wall, she’d drive a team, +Or with a fly she’d whip a stream, +Or may be sing you “Rousseau’s Dream,” +For nothing could escape her; +I’ve seen her, too,—upon my word,— +At sixty yards bring down her bird, +Oh, she charmed all the Forty-third, +Did lovely Mary Draper. + +And at the spring assizes’ ball, +The junior bar would one and all +For all her fav’rite dances call, +And Harry Dean would caper; +Lord Clare would then forget his lore; +King’s Counsel, voting law a bore, +Were proud to figure on the floor, +For love of Mary Draper. + +The parson, priest, sub-sheriff too, +Were all her slaves, and so would you, +If you had only but one view, +Of such a face and shape, or +Her pretty ankles—But, ohone, +It’s only west of old Athlone +Such girls were found—and now they’re gone— +So here’s to Mary Draper! +</pre> +<p> +“So here’s to Mary Draper!” sang out every voice, in such efforts to catch +the tune as pleased the taste of the motley assembly. +</p> +<p> +“For Mary Draper and Co., I thank you,” said Maurice. “Quill drinks to +Dennis,” added he, in a grave tone, as he nodded to O’Shaughnessy. “Yes, +Shaugh, few men better than ourselves know these matters; and few have had +more experience of the three perils of Irishmen,—love, liquor, and +the law of arrest.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s little the latter has ever troubled my father’s son,” replied +O’Shaughnessy. “Our family have been writ proof for centuries, and he’d +have been a bold man who would have ventured with an original or a true +copy within the precincts of Killinahoula.” +</p> +<p> +“Your father had a touch of Larry M’Hale in him,” said I, “apparently.” +</p> +<p> +“Exactly so,” replied Dennis; “not but they caught him at last, and a +scurvy trick it was and well worthy of him who did it! Yes,” said he, with +a sigh, “it is only another among the many instances where the better +features of our nationality have been used by our enemies as instruments +for our destruction; and should we seek for the causes of unhappiness in +our wretched country, we should find them rather in our virtues than in +our vices, and in the bright rather than in the darker phases of our +character.” +</p> +<p> +“Metaphysics, by Jove!” cried Quill; “but all true at the same time. There +was a mess-mate of mine in the ‘Roscommon’ who never paid car-hire in his +life. ‘Head or harp, Paddy!’ he would cry. ‘Two tenpennies or nothing.’ +‘Harp, for the honor of ould Ireland!’ was the invariable response, and my +friend was equally sure to make head come uppermost; and, upon my soul, +they seem to know the trick at the Home Office.” +</p> +<p> +“That must have been the same fellow that took my father,” cried +O’Shaughnessy, with energy. +</p> +<p> +“Let us hear the story, Dennis,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Maurice, “for the benefit of self and fellows, let us hear the +stratagem!” +</p> +<p> +“The way of it was this,” resumed O’Shaughnessy. “My father, who for +reasons registered in the King’s Bench spent a great many years of his +life in that part of Ireland geographically known as lying west of the +law, was obliged, for certain reasons of family, to come up to Dublin. +This he proceeded to do with due caution. Two trusty servants formed an +advance guard, and patrolled the country for at least five miles in +advance; after them came a skirmishing body of a few tenants, who, for the +consideration of never paying rent, would have charged the whole Court of +Chancery, if needful. My father himself, in an old chaise victualled like +a fortress, brought up the rear; and as I said before, he were a bold man +who would have attempted to have laid siege to him. As the column advanced +into the enemy’s country, they assumed a closer order, the patrol and the +picket falling back upon the main body; and in this way they reached that +most interesting city called Kilbeggan. What a fortunate thing it is for +us in Ireland that we can see so much of the world without foreign travel, +and that any gentleman for six-and-eightpence can leave Dublin in the +morning, and visit Timbuctoo against dinner-time. Don’t stare! it’s truth +I’m telling; for dirt, misery, smoke, unaffected behavior, and black +faces, I’ll back Kilbeggan against all Africa. Free-and-easy, pleasant +people ye are, with a skin, as begrimed and as rugged as your own +potatoes! But, to resume. The sun was just rising in a delicious morning +of June, when my father,—whose loyal antipathies I have mentioned +made him also an early riser,—was preparing for the road. A stout +escort of his followers were as usual under arms to see him safe in the +chaise, the passage to and from which every day being the critical moment +of my father’s life. +</p> +<p> +“‘It’s all right, your honor,’ said his own man, as, armed with a +blunderbuss, he opened the bed-room door. +</p> +<p> +“‘Time enough, Tim,’ said my father; ‘close the door, for I haven’t +finished my breakfast.’ +</p> +<p> +“Now, the real truth was, that my father’s attention was at that moment +withdrawn from his own concerns by a scene which was taking place in a +field beneath his window. +</p> +<p> +“But a few minutes before, a hack-chaise had stopped upon the roadside, +out of which sprang three gentlemen, who, proceeding into the field, +seemed bent upon something, which, whether a survey or a duel, my father +could not make out. He was not long, however, to remain in ignorance. One, +with an easy, lounging gait, strode towards a distant corner; another took +an opposite direction; while a third, a short, pursy gentleman, in a red +handkerchief and rabbit-skin waistcoat, proceeded to open a mahogany box, +which, to the critical eyes of my respected father, was agreeably +suggestive of bloodshed and murder. +</p> +<p> +“‘A duel, by Jupiter!’ said my father, rubbing his hands. ‘What a heavenly +morning the scoundrels have,—not a leaf stirring, and a sod like a +billiard-table!’ +</p> +<p> +“Meanwhile the little man who officiated as second, it would appear to <i>both</i> +parties, bustled about with an activity little congenial to his shape; and +what between snapping the pistols, examining the flints, and ramming down +the charges, had got himself into a sufficient perspiration before he +commenced to measure the ground. +</p> +<p> +“‘Short distance and no quarter!’ shouted one of the combatants, from the +corner of the field. +</p> +<p> +“‘Across a handkerchief, if you like!’ roared the other. +</p> +<p> +“‘Gentlemen, every inch of them!’ responded my father. +</p> +<p> +“‘Twelve paces!’ cried the little man. ‘No more and no less. Don’t forget +that I am alone in this business!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘A very true remark!’ observed my father; ‘and an awkward predicament +yours will be if they are not both shot!’ +</p> +<p> +“By this time the combatants had taken their places, and the little man, +having delivered the pistols, was leisurely retiring to give the word. My +father, however, whose critical eye was never at fault, detected a +circumstance which promised an immense advantage to one at the expense of +the other; in fact, one of the parties was so placed with his back to the +sun, that his shadow extended in a straight line to the very foot of his +antagonist. +</p> +<p> +“‘Unfair, unfair!’ cried my father, opening the window as he spoke, and +addressing himself to him of the rabbit-skin. ‘I crave your pardon for the +interruption,’ said he; ‘but I feel bound to observe that that gentleman’s +shadow is likely to make a shade of him.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And so it is,’ observed the short man; ‘a thousand thanks for your +kindness, but the truth is, I am totally unaccustomed to this kind of +thing, and the affair will not admit of delay.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Not an hour!’ said one. +</p> +<p> +“‘No, not five minutes!’ growled the other of the combatants. +</p> +<p> +“‘Put them up north and south,’ said my father. +</p> +<p> +“‘Is it thus?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Exactly so. But now, again, the gentleman in the brown coat is covered +with the ash-tree.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And so he is!’ said rabbit-skin, wiping his forehead with agitation. +</p> +<p> +“‘Move them a little to the left,’ said he. +</p> +<p> +“‘That brings me upon an eminence,’ said the gentleman in blue. ‘I’ll be d—d +if I be made a cock shot of!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What an awkward little thief it is in the hairy waistcoat!’ said my +father; ‘he’s lucky if he don’t get shot himself!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘May I never, if I’m not sick of you both!’ ejaculated rabbit-skin, in a +passion. ‘I’ve moved you round every point of the compass, and the devil a +nearer we are than ever!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Give us the word,’ said one. +</p> +<p> +“‘The word!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Downright murder,’ said my father. +</p> +<p> +“‘I don’t care,’ said the little man; ‘we shall be here till doomsday.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I can’t permit this,’ said my father; ‘allow me.’ So saying, he stepped +upon the window-sill, and leaped down into the field. +</p> +<p> +“‘Before I can accept of your politeness,’ said he of the rabbit-skin, +‘may I beg to know your name and position in society?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Nothing more reasonable,’ said my father. ‘I’m Miles O’Shaughnessy, +Colonel of the Royal Raspers,—here is my card.’ +</p> +<p> +“The piece of pasteboard was complacently handed from one to the other of +the party, who saluted my father with a smile of most courteous benignity. +</p> +<p> +“‘Colonel O’Shaughnessy,’ said one. +</p> +<p> +“‘Miles O’Shaughnessy,’ said the other. +</p> +<p> +“‘Of Killinahoula Castle,’ said the third. +</p> +<p> +“‘At your service,’ said my father, bowing, as he presented his snuff-box; +‘and now to business, if you please, for my time also is limited.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Very true,’ observed he of the rabbit-skin; ‘and, as you observe, now to +business; in virtue of which, Colonel Miles O’Shaughnessy, I hereby arrest +you in the King’s name. Here is the writ; it’s at the suit of Barnaby +Kelly, of Loughrea, for the sum of £1,482 19s. 7-1/2d., which—’ +</p> +<p> +“Before he could conclude the sentence, my father discharged one +obligation by implanting his closed knuckles in his face. The blow, well +aimed and well intentioned, sent the little fellow summersetting like a +sugar hogshead. But, alas! it was of no use; the others, strong and +able-bodied, fell both upon him, and after a desperate struggle succeeded +in getting him down. To tie his hands, and convey him to the chaise, was +the work of a few moments; and as my father drove by the inn, the last +object which caught his view was a bloody encounter between his own people +and the myrmidons of the law, who, in great numbers, had laid siege to the +house during his capture. Thus was my father taken; and thus, in reward +for yielding to a virtuous weakness in his character, was he consigned to +the ignominious durance of a prison. Was I not right, then, in saying that +such is the melancholy position of our country, the most beautiful traits +in our character are converted into the elements of our ruin?” +</p> +<p> +“I dinna think ye ha’e made out your case, Major?” said the Scotch doctor, +who felt sorely puzzled at my friend’s logic. “If your faether had na +gi’en the bond—” +</p> +<p> +“There is no saying what he wouldn’t have done to the bailiffs,” +interrupted Dennis, who was following up a very different train of +reasoning. +</p> +<p> +“I fear me, Doctor,” observed Quill, “you are much behind us in Scotland. +Not but that some of your chieftains are respectable men, and wouldn’t get +on badly even in Galway.” +</p> +<p> +“I thank ye muckle for the compliment,” said the doctor, dryly; “but I +ha’e my doubts they’d think it ane, and they’re crusty carls that’s no’ +ower safe to meddle wi’.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d as soon propose a hand of ‘spoiled five’ to the Pope of Rome, as a +joke to one of them,” returned Maurice. +</p> +<p> +“May be ye are na wrang there, Maister Quell.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” cried Hampden, “if I may be allowed an opinion, I can safely aver +I know no quarters like Scotland. Edinburgh beyond anything or anywhere I +was ever placed in.” +</p> +<p> +“Always after Dublin,” interposed Maurice; while a general chorus of +voices re-echoed the sentiment. +</p> +<p> +“You are certainly a strong majority,” said my friend, “against me; but +still I recant not my original opinion. Edinburgh before the world. For a +hospitality that never tires; for pleasant fellows that improve every day +of your acquaintance; for pretty girls that make you long for a repeal of +the canon about being only singly blessed, and lead you to long for a +score of them, Edinburgh,—I say again, before the world.” +</p> +<p> +“Their ankles are devilish thick,” whispered Maurice. +</p> +<p> +“A calumny, a base calumny!” +</p> +<p> +“And then they drink—” +</p> +<p> +“Oh—” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; they drink very strong tea.” +</p> +<p> +“Shall we ha’e a glass o’ sherry together, Hampden?” said the Scotch +doctor, willing to acknowledge his defence of auld Reekie. +</p> +<p> +“And we’ll take O’Malley in,” said Hampden; “he looks imploringly.” +</p> +<p> +“And now to return to the charge,” quoth Maurice. “In what particular dare +ye contend the palm with Dublin? We’ll not speak of beauty. I can’t suffer +any such profane turn in the conversation as to dispute the superiority of +Irishwomen’s lips, eyes, noses, and eyebrows, to anything under heaven. +We’ll not talk of gay fellows; egad, we needn’t. I’ll give you the +garrison,—a decent present,—and I’ll back the Irish bar for +more genuine drollery, more wit, more epigram, more ready sparkling fun, +than the whole rest of the empire—ay, and all her colonies—can +boast of.” +</p> +<p> +“They are nae remarkable for passing the bottle, if they resemble their +very gifted advocate,” observed the Scotchman. +</p> +<p> +“But they are for filling and emptying both, making its current, as it +glides by, like a rich stream glittering in the sunbeams with the +sparkling lustre of their wit. Lord, how I’m blown! Fill my pannikin, +Charley. There’s no subduing a Scot. Talk with him, drink with him, fight +with him, and he’ll always have the last of it; there’s only one way of +concluding the treaty—” +</p> +<p> +“And that is—” +</p> +<p> +“Blarney him. Lord bless you, he can’t stand it! Tell him Holyrood’s like +Versailles, and the Trossach’s finer than Mont Blanc; that Geordie +Buchanan was Homer, and the Canongate, Herculaneum,—then ye have him +on the hip. Now, ye never can humbug an Irishman that way; he’ll know +you’re quizzing him when you praise his country.” +</p> +<p> +“Ye are right, Hampden,” said the Scotch doctor, in reply to some +observation. “We are vara primitive in the Hielands, and we keep to our +ain national customs in dress and everything; and we are vara slow to +learn, and even when we try we are nae ower successfu’ in our imitations, +which sometimes cost us dearly enough. Ye may have heard, may be, of the +M’Nab o’ that ilk, and what happened him with the king’s equerry?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not quite certain,” said Hampden, “if I ever heard the story.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s nae muckle of a story; but the way of it was this. When Montrose +came back from London, he brought with him a few Englishers to show them +the Highlands, and let them see something of deer-stalking,—among +the rest, a certain Sir George Sowerby, an aide-de-camp or an equerry of +the prince. He was a vara fine gentleman, that never loaded his ain gun, +and a’most thought it too much trouble to pull the trigger. He went out +every morning to shoot with his hair curled like a woman, and dressed like +a dancing-master. Now, there happened to be at the same time at the castle +the Laird o’ M’Nab; he was a kind of cousin of the Montrose, and a rough +old tyke of the true Hieland breed, wha’ thought that the head of a clan +was fully equal to any king or prince. He sat opposite to Sir George at +dinner the day of his arrival, and could not conceal his surprise at the +many new-fangled ways of feeding himself the Englisher adopted. He ate his +saumon wi’ his fork in ae hand, and a bittock of bread in the other. He +would na touch the whiskey; helped himself to a cutlet wi’ his fingers. +But what was maist extraordinary of all, he wore a pair o’ braw white +gloves during the whole time o’ dinner and when they came to tak’ away the +cloth, he drew them off with a great air, and threw them into the middle +of it, and then, leisurely taking anither pair off a silver salver which +his ain man presented, he pat them on for dessert. The M’Nab, who, +although an auld-fashioned carl, was aye fond of bringing something new +hame to his friends, remarked the Englisher’s proceeding with great care, +and the next day he appeared at dinner wi’ a huge pair of Hieland mittens, +which he wore, to the astonishment of all and the amusement of most, +through the whole three courses; and exactly as the Englishman changed his +gloves, the M’Nab produced a fresh pair of goats’ wool, four times as +large as the first, which, drawing on with prodigious gravity, he threw +the others into the middle of the cloth, remarking, as he did so,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Ye see, Captain, we are never ower auld to learn.’ +</p> +<p> +“All propriety was now at an end, and a hearty burst of laughter from one +end of the table to the other convulsed the whole company,—the M’Nab +and the Englishman being the only persons who did not join in it, but sat +glowering at each other like twa tigers; and, indeed, it needed, a’ the +Montrose’s interference that they had na quarrelled upon it in the +morning.” +</p> +<p> +“The M’Nab was a man after my own heart,” said Maurice; “there was +something very Irish in the lesson he gave the Englishman.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d rather ye’d told him that than me,” said the doctor, dryly; “he would +na hae thanked ye for mistaking him for ane of your countrymen.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, Doctor,” said Dennis, “could not ye give us a stave? Have ye +nothing that smacks of the brown fern and the blue lakes in your memory?” +</p> +<p> +“I have na a sang in my mind just noo except ‘Johnny Cope,’ which may be +might na be ower pleasant for the Englishers to listen to.” +</p> +<p> +“I never heard a Scotch song worth sixpence,” quoth Maurice, who seemed +bent on provoking the doctor’s ire. “They contain nothing save some puling +sentimentality about lasses with lint-white locks, or some absurd +laudations of the Barley Bree.” +</p> +<p> +“Hear till him, hear till him!” said the doctor, reddening with +impatience. +</p> +<p> +“Show me anything,” said Maurice, “like the ‘Cruiskeen Lawn’ or the ‘Jug +of Punch;’ but who can blame them, after all? You can’t expect much from a +people with an imagination as naked as their own knees.” +</p> +<p> +“Maurice! Maurice!” cried O’Shaughnessy, reprovingly, who saw that he was +pushing the other’s endurance beyond all bounds. +</p> +<p> +“I mind weel,” said the Scotchman, “what happened to ane o’ your +countrymen wha took upon him to jest as you are doing now. It was to +Laurie Cameron he did it.” +</p> +<p> +“And what said the redoubted Laurie in reply?” +</p> +<p> +“He did na say muckle, but he did something.” +</p> +<p> +“And what might it be?” inquired Maurice. +</p> +<p> +“He threw him ower the brig of Ayr into the water, and he was drowned.” +</p> +<p> +“And did Laurie come to no harm about the matter?” +</p> +<p> +“Ay, they tried him for it, and found him guilty; but when they asked him +what he had to say in his defence, he merely replied, ‘When the carl +sneered about Scotland, I did na suspect that he did na ken how to swim;’ +and so the end of it was, they did naething to Laurie.” +</p> +<p> +“Cool that, certainly,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“I prefer your friend with the mittens, I confess,” said Maurice, “though +I’m sure both were most agreeable companion. But come, Doctor, couldn’t +you give us,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Sit ye down, my heartie, and gie us a crack, +Let the wind tak’ the care o’ the world on his back.’” +</pre> +<p> +“You maunna attempt English poethry, my freend Quell; for it must be +confessed ye’e a damnable accent of your ain.” +</p> +<p> +“Milesian-Phoenician-Corkacian; nothing more, my boy, and a coaxing kind +of recitative it is, after all. Don’t tell me of your soft Etruscan, your +plethoric. <i>Hoch</i>-Deutsch, your flattering French. To woo and win the +girl of your heart, give me a rich brogue and the least taste in life of +blarney! There’s nothing like it, believe me,—every inflection of +your voice suggesting some tender pressure of her soft hand or taper +waist, every cadence falling on her gentle heart like a sea-breeze on a +burning coast, or a soft sirocco over a rose-tree. And then, think, my +boys,—and it is a fine thought after all,—what a glorious gift +that is, out of the reach of kings to give or to take, what neither +depends upon the act of Union nor the <i>Habeas Corpus</i>. No! they may +starve us, laugh at us, tax us, transport us. They may take our mountains, +our valleys, and our bogs; but, bad luck to them, they can’t steal our +‘blarney;’ that’s the privilege one and indivisible with our identity. And +while an Englishman raves of his liberty, a Scotchman of his oaten meal, +blarney’s <i>our</i> birthright, and a prettier portion I’d never ask to +leave behind me to my sons. If I’d as large a family as the ould gentleman +called Priam we used to hear of at school, it’s the only inheritance I’d +give them, and one comfort there would be besides, the legacy duty would +be only a trifle. Charley, my son, I see you’re listening to me, and +nothing satisfies me more than to instruct inspiring youth; so never +forget the old song,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘If at your ease, the girls you’d please, +And win them, like Kate Kearney, +There’s but one way, I’ve heard them say, +Go kiss the Stone of Blarney.’” +</pre> +<p> +“What do you say, Shaugh, if we drink it with all the honors?” +</p> +<p> +“But gently: do I hear a trumpet there?” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, there go the bugles. Can it be daybreak already?” +</p> +<p> +“How short the nights are at this season!” said Quill. +</p> +<p> +“What an infernal rumpus they’re making! It’s not possible the troops are +to march so early.” +</p> +<p> +“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” quoth Maurice; “there is no +knowing what the commander-in-chief’s not capable of,—the reason’s +clear enough.” +</p> +<p> +“And why, Maurice?” +</p> +<p> +“There’s not a bit of blarney about him.” +</p> +<p> +The <i>réveil</i> sang out from every brigade, and the drums beat to fall +in, while Mike came galloping up at full speed to say that the bridge of +boats was completed, and that the Twelfth were already ordered to cross. +Not a moment was therefore to be lost; one parting cup we drained to our +next meeting, and amidst a hundred “good-bys” we mounted our horses. Poor +Hampden’s brains, sadly confused by the wine and the laughing, he knew +little of what was going on around him, and passed the entire time of our +homeward ride in a vain endeavor to adapt “Mary Draper” to the air of +“Rule Britannia.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXII. +</h2> +<p> +FUENTES D’ONORO. +</p> +<p> +From this period the French continued their retreat, closely followed by +the allied armies, and on the 5th of April, Massena once more crossed the +frontier into Spain, leaving thirty thousand of his bravest troops behind +him, fourteen thousand of whom had fallen or been taken prisoners. +Reinforcements, however, came rapidly pouring in. Two divisions of the +Ninth corps had already arrived, and Drouet, with eleven thousand infantry +and cavalry, was preparing to march to his assistance. Thus strengthened, +the French army marched towards the Portuguese frontier, and Lord +Wellington, who had determined not to hazard much by his blockade of +Ciudad Rodrigo, fell back upon the large table-land beyond the Turones and +the Dos Casas, with his left at Fort Conception, and his right resting +upon Fuentes d’Onoro. His position extended to about five miles; and here, +although vastly inferior in numbers, yet relying upon the bravery of the +troops, and the moral ascendency acquired by their pursuit of the enemy, +he finally resolved upon giving them battle. +</p> +<p> +Being sent with despatches to Pack’s brigade, which formed the blockading +force at Almeida, I did not reach Fuentes d’Onoro until the evening of the +3d. The thundering of the guns, which, even at the distance I was at, was +plainly heard, announced that an attack had taken place, but it by no +means prepared me for the scene which presented itself on my return. +</p> +<p> +The village of Fuentes d’Onoro, one of the most beautiful in Spain, is +situated in a lovely valley, where all the charms of verdure so peculiar +to the Peninsula seemed to have been scattered with a lavish hand. The +citron and the arbutus, growing wild, sheltered every cottage door, and +the olive and the laurel threw their shadows across the little rivulet +which traversed the village. The houses, observing no uniform arrangement, +stood wherever the caprice or the inclination of the builder suggested, +surrounded with little gardens, the inequality of the ground imparting a +picturesque feature to even the lowliest hut, while upon a craggy eminence +above the rest, an ancient convent and a ruined chapel looked down upon +the little peaceful hamlet with an air of tender protection. +</p> +<p> +Hitherto this lovely spot had escaped all the ravages of war. The light +division of our army had occupied it for months long; and every family was +gratefully remembered by some one or other of our officers, and more than +one of our wounded found in the kind and affectionate watching of these +poor peasants the solace which sickness rarely meets with when far from +home and country. +</p> +<p> +It was, then, with an anxious heart I pressed my horse forward into a +gallop as the night drew near. The artillery had been distinctly heard +during the day, and while I burned with eagerness to know the result, I +felt scarcely less anxious for the fate of that little hamlet whose name +many a kind story had implanted in my memory. The moon was shining +brightly as I passed the outpost, and leading my horse by the bridle, +descended the steep and rugged causeway to the village beneath me. The +lanterns were moving rapidly to and fro; the measured tread of infantry at +night—that ominous sound, which falls upon the heart so sadly—told +me that they were burying the dead. The air was still and breathless; not +a sound was stirring save the step of the soldiery, and the harsh clash of +the shovel as it struck the earth. I felt sad and sick at heart, and +leaned against a tree; a nightingale concealed in the leaves was pouring +forth its plaintive notes to the night air, and its low warble sounded +like the dirge of the departed. Far beyond, in the plain, the French +watch-fires were burning, and I could see from time to time the +fatigue-parties moving in search of their wounded. At this moment the +clock of the convent struck eleven, and a merry chime rang out, and was +taken up by the echoes till it melted away in the distance. Alas, where +were those whose hearts were wont to feel cheered at that happy peal; +whose infancy it had gladdened; whose old age it has hallowed? The fallen +walls, the broken roof-trees, the ruin and desolation on every side, told +too plainly that they had passed away forever! The smoking embers, the +torn-up pathway, denoted the hard-fought struggle; and as I passed along, +I could see that every garden, where the cherry and the apple-blossom were +even still perfuming the air, had now its sepulchre. +</p> +<p> +“Halt, there!” cried a hoarse voice in front. “You cannot pass this way,—the +commander-in-chief’s quarters.” +</p> +<p> +I looked up and beheld a small but neat-looking cottage, which seemed to +have suffered less than the others around. Lights were shining brightly +from the windows, and I could even detect from time to time a figure +muffled up in a cloak passing to and fro across the window; while another, +seated at a table, was occupied in writing. I turned into a narrow path +which led into the little square of the village, and here, as I +approached, the hum and murmur of voices announced a bivouac party. +Stopping to ask what had been the result of the day, I learned that a +tremendous attack had been made by the French in column upon the village, +which was at first successful; but that afterwards the Seventy-first and +Seventy-ninth, marching down from the heights, had repulsed the enemy, and +driven them beyond the Dos Casas. Five hundred had fallen in that fierce +encounter, which was continued through every street and alley of the +little hamlet. The gallant Highlanders now occupied the battle-field; and +hearing that the cavalry brigade was some miles distant, I willingly +accepted their offer to share their bivouac, and passed the remainder of +the night among them. +</p> +<p> +When day broke, our troops were under arms, but the enemy showed no +disposition to renew the attack. We could perceive, however, from the road +to the southward, by the long columns of dust, that reinforcements were +still arriving; and learned during the morning, from a deserter, that +Massena himself had come up, and Bessiéres also, with twelve hundred +cavalry, and a battery of the Imperial Guard. +</p> +<p> +From the movements observable in the enemy, it was soon evident that the +battle, though deferred, was not abandoned; and the march of a strong +force towards the left of their position induced our commander-in-chief to +despatch the Seventh Division, under Houston, to occupy the height of +Naval d’Aver—our extreme right—in support of which our brigade +of cavalry marched as a covering force. The British position was thus +unavoidably extended to the enormous length of seven miles, occupying a +succession of small eminences, from the division at Fort Conception to the +height of Naval d’Aver,—Fuentes d’Onoro forming nearly the centre of +the line. +</p> +<p> +It was evident, from the thickening combinations of the French, that a +more dreadful battle was still in reserve for us; and yet never did men +look more anxiously for the morrow. +</p> +<p> +As for myself, I felt a species of exhilaration I had never before +experienced; the events of the preceding day came dropping in upon me from +every side, and at every new tale of gallantry or daring I felt my heart +bounding with excited eagerness to win also my need of honorable praise. +</p> +<p> +Crawfurd, too, had recognized me in the kindest manner; and while saying +that he did not wish to withdraw me from my regiment on a day of battle, +added that he would make use of me for the present on his staff. Thus was +I engaged, from early in the morning till late in the evening, bringing +orders and despatches along the line. The troop-horse I rode—for I +reserved my gray for the following day—was scarcely able to carry me +along, as towards dusk I jogged along in the direction of Naval d’Aver. +When I did reach our quarters, the fires were lighted, and around one of +them I had the good fortune to find a party of the Fourteenth occupied in +discussing a very appetizing little supper. The clatter of plates, and the +popping of champagne corks were most agreeable sounds. Indeed, the latter +appeared to me so much too flattering an illusion, that I hesitated giving +credit to my senses in the matter, when Baker called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Come, Charley, sit down; you’re just in the nick. Tom Marsden is giving +us a benefit. You know Tom?” +</p> +<p> +And here he presented me in due form to that best of commissaries and most +hospitable of horse-dealers. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t introduce you to my friend on my right,” continued Baker, “for my +Spanish is only a skeleton battalion; but he’s a trump,—that I’ll +vouch for; never flinches his glass, and looks as though he enjoyed all +our nonsense.” +</p> +<p> +The Spaniard, who appeared to comprehend that he was alluded to, gravely +saluted me with a low bow, and offered his glass to hobnob with me. I +returned the curtesy with becoming ceremony, while Hampden whispered in my +ear,— +</p> +<p> +“A fine-looking fellow. You know who he is? Julian, the Guerilla chief.” +</p> +<p> +I had heard much of both the strangers. Tom Marsden was a household word +in every cavalry brigade; equally celebrated were his contracts and his +claret. He knew every one, from Lord Wellington to the last-joined cornet; +and while upon a march, there was no piece of better fortune than to be +asked to dine with him. So in the very thick of battle, Tom’s critical eye +was scanning the squadrons engaged, with an accuracy as to the number of +fresh horses that would be required upon the morrow that nothing but long +practice and infinite coolness could have conferred. +</p> +<p> +Of the Guerilla I need not speak. The bold feats he accomplished, the aid +he rendered to the cause of his country, have made his name historical. +Yet still with all this, fatigue, more powerful than my curiosity, +prevailed, and I sank into a heavy sleep upon the grass, while my merry +companions kept up their revels till near morning. The last piece of +consciousness I am sensible of was seeing Julian spreading his wide mantle +over me as I lay, while I heard his deep voice whisper a kind wish for my +repose. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIII. +</h2> +<p> +THE BATTLE OF FUENTES D’ONORO. +</p> +<p> +So soundly did I sleep that the tumult and confusion of the morning never +awoke me; and the Guerilla, whose cavalry were stationed along the edge of +the ravine near the heights of Echora, would not permit of my being roused +before the last moment. Mike stood near me with my horses, and it was only +when the squadrons were actually forming that I sprang to my feet and +looked around me. +</p> +<p> +The day was just breaking; a thick mist lay upon the parched earth, and +concealed everything a hundred yards from where we stood. From this dense +vapor the cavalry defiled along the base of the hill, followed by the +horse artillery and the Guards, disappearing again as they passed us, but +proving, by the mass of troops now assembled, that our position was +regarded as the probable point of attack. +</p> +<p> +While the troops continued to take up their position, the sun shone out, +and a slight breeze blowing at the same, moment, the heavy clouds moved +past, and we beheld the magnificent panorama of the battle-field. Before +us, at the distance of less than half a league, the French cavalry were +drawn up in three strong columns; the Cuirassiers of the Guard, plainly +distinguished by their steel cuirasses, flanked by the Polish Lancers and +a strong huzzar brigade; a powerful artillery train supported the left, +and an infantry force occupied the entire space between the right and the +rising ground opposite Poço Velho. Farther to the right again, the column +destined for the attack of Fuentes d’Onoro were forming, and we could see +that, profiting by their past experience, they were bent upon attacking +the village with an overwhelming force. +</p> +<p> +For above two hours the French continued to manoeuvre, more than one +alteration having taken place in their disposition; fresh battalions were +moved towards the front, and gradually the whole of their cavalry was +assembled on the extreme left in front of our position. Our people were +ordered to breakfast where we stood; and a little after seven o’clock a +staff officer came riding down the line, followed in a few moments after +by General Crawfurd, when no sooner was his well-known brown cob +recognized by the troops than a hearty cheer greeted him along the whole +division. +</p> +<p> +“Thank ye, boys; thank ye, boys, with all my heart. No man feels more +sensibly what that cheer means than I do. Guards, Lord Wellington relies +upon your maintaining this position, which is essential to the safety of +the whole line. You will be supported by the light division. I need say no +more. If such troops cannot keep their ground, none can. Fourteenth, +there’s your place; the artillery and the Sixteenth are with you. They’ve +the odds of us in numbers, lads; but it will tell all the better in the +‘Gazette.’ I see they’re moving; so fall in now, fall in; and Merivale, +move to the front. Ramsey, prepare to open your fire on the attacking +squadrons.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, the low murmuring sound of distantly moving cavalry crept +along the earth, growing louder and louder, till at length we could detect +the heavy tramp of the squadrons as they came on in a trot, our pace being +merely a walk. While we thus advanced into the plain, the artillery +unlimbered behind us, and the Spanish cavalry, breaking into skirmishers, +dashed boldly to the front. +</p> +<p> +It was an exciting moment. The ground dipped between the two armies so as +to conceal the head of the advancing column of the French, and as the +Spanish skirmishers disappeared down the ridge, our beating hearts and +straining eyes followed their last horseman. +</p> +<p> +“Halt! halt!” was passed from squadron to squadron, and the same instant +the sharp ring of the pistol shots and the clash of steel from the valley, +told us the battle had begun. We could hear the Guerilla war-cry mingle +with the French shout, while the thickening crash of fire-arms implied a +sharper conflict. Our fellows were already manifesting some impatience to +press on, when a Spanish horseman appeared above the ridge, another +followed, and another, and then pell-mell, broken and disordered, they +fell back before the pursuing cavalry in flying masses; while the French, +charging them hotly home, utterly routed and repulsed them. +</p> +<p> +The leading squadrons of the French now fell back upon their support; the +column of attack thickened, and a thundering noise between their masses +announced their brigade of light guns as they galloped to the front. It +was then for the first time that I felt dispirited; far as my eye could +stretch the dense mass of sabres extended, defiling from the distant hills +and winding its slow length across the plain. I turned to look at our +line, scarce one thousand strong, and could not help feeling that our hour +was come: the feeling flashed vividly across my mind, but the next instant +I felt my cheek redden with shame as I gazed upon the sparkling eyes and +bold looks around me, the lips compressed, the hands knitted to their +sabres; all were motionless, but burning to advance. +</p> +<p> +The French had halted on the brow of the hill to form, when Merivale came +cantering up to us. +</p> +<p> +“Fourteenth, are you ready? Are you ready, lads?” +</p> +<p> +“Ready, sir! ready!” re-echoed along the line. +</p> +<p> +“Then push them home and charge! Charge!” cried he, raising his voice to a +shout at the last word. +</p> +<p> +Heavens, what a crash was there! Our horses, in top condition, no sooner +felt the spur than they bounded madly onwards. The pace—for the +distance did not exceed four hundred yards—was like racing. To +resist the impetus of our approach was impossible; and without a shot +fired, scarcely a sabre-cut exchanged, we actually rode down their +advanced squadrons, hurling them headlong upon their supporting division, +and rolling men and horses beneath us on every side. The French fell back +upon their artillery; but before they could succeed in opening their fire +upon us, we had wheeled, and carrying off about seventy prisoners, +galloped back to our position with the loss of but two men in the affair. +The whole thing was so sudden, so bold, and so successful, that I remember +well, as we rode back, a hearty burst of laughter was ringing through the +squadron at the ludicrous display of horsemanship the French presented as +they tumbled headlong down the hill; and I cannot help treasuring the +recollection, for from that moment, all thought of anything short of +victory completely quitted my mind, and many of my brother officers, who +had participated in my feelings at the commencement of the day, confessed +to me afterwards that it was then for the first time they felt assured of +beating the enemy. +</p> +<p> +While we slowly fell back to our position, the French were seen advancing +in great force from the village of Almeida, to the attack of Poço Velho; +they came on at a rapid pace, their artillery upon their front and flank, +large masses of cavalry hovering around them. The attack upon the village +was now opened by the large guns; and amidst the booming of the artillery +and the crashing volleys of small fire-arms, rose the shout of the +assailants, and the wild cry of the Guerilla cavalry, who had formed in +front of the village. The French advanced firmly, driving back the +pickets, and actually inundated the devoted village with a shower of +grape; the blazing fires burst from the ignited roofs; and the black, +dense smoke, rising on high, seemed to rest like a pall over the little +hamlet. +</p> +<p> +The conflict was now a tremendous one; our Seventh Division held the +village with the bayonet; but the French continuing to pour in mass upon +mass, drove them back with loss, and at the end of an hour’s hard +fighting, took possession of the place. +</p> +<p> +The wood upon the left flank was now seen to swarm with light infantry, +and the advancement of their whole left proved that they meditated to turn +our flank; the space between the village and the hill of Naval d’Aver +became thus the central position; and here the Guerilla force, led on by +Julian Sanches, seemed to await the French with confidence. Soon, however, +the cuirassiers came galloping to the spot, and almost without exchanging +a sabre-cut, the Guerillas fell back, and retired behind the Turones. This +movement of Julian was more attributable to anger than to fear; for his +favorite lieutenant, being mistaken for a French officer, was shot by a +soldier of the Guards a few minutes before. +</p> +<p> +Montbrun pursued the Guerillas with some squadrons of horse, but they +turned resolutely upon the French, and not till overwhelmed by numbers did +they show any disposition to retreat. +</p> +<p> +The French, however, now threw forward their whole cavalry, and driving +back the English horse, succeeded in turning the right of the Seventh +Division. The battle by this time was general. The staff officers who came +up from the left informed us that Fuentes d’Onoro was attacked in force, +Massena himself leading the assault in person; while thus for seven miles +the fight was maintained hotly at intervals, it was evident that upon the +maintenance of our position the fortune of the day depended. Hitherto we +had been repulsed from the village and the wood; and the dark masses of +infantry which were assembled upon our right, seemed to threaten the hill +of Naval d’Aver with as sad a catastrophe. +</p> +<p> +Crawfurd came now galloping up among us, his eye flashing fire, and his +uniform splashed and covered with foam: +</p> +<p> +“Steady Sixteenth, steady! Don’t blow your horses! Have your fellows +advanced, Malcolm?” said he, turning to an officer who stood beside him. +“Ay, there they go!” pointing with his finger to the wood where, as he +spoke, the short ringing of the British rifle proclaimed the advance of +that brigade. “Let the cavalry prepare to charge! And now, Ramsey, let us +give it them home!” +</p> +<p> +Scarcely were the words spoken, when the squadrons were formed, and in an +instant after, the French light infantry were seen retreating from the +wood, and flying in disorderly masses across the plain. Our squadrons +riding down among them, actually cut them to atoms, while the light +artillery, unlimbering, threw in a deadly discharge of grape-shot. +</p> +<p> +“To the right, Fourteenth, to the right!” cried General Stewart. “Have at +their hussars!” +</p> +<p> +Whirling by them, we advanced at a gallop, and dashed towards the enemy, +who, not less resolutely bent, came boldly forward to meet us. The shock +was terrific! The leading squadrons on both sides went down almost to a +man, and all order being lost, the encounter became one of hand to hand. +</p> +<p> +The struggle was deadly; neither party would give way; and while fortune +now inclined hither and thither, Sir Charles Stewart singled out the +French general, Lamotte, and carried him off his prisoner. Meanwhile +Montbrun’s cavalry and the cuirassiers came riding up, and the retreat now +sounding through our ranks, we were obliged to fall back upon the +infantry. The French pursued us hotly; and so rapid was their movement, +that before Ramsey’s brigade could limber up and away, their squadrons had +surrounded him and captured his guns. +</p> +<p> +“Where is Ramsey?” cried Crawfurd, as he galloped to the head of our +division. “Cut off—cut off! Taken, by G——! There he +goes!” said he, pointing with his finger, as a dense cloud of mingled +smoke and dust moved darkly across the plain. “Form into column once +more!” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, the dense mass before us seemed agitated by some mighty +commotion; the flashing of blades, and the rattling of small-arms, mingled +with shouts of triumph or defiance, burst forth, and the ominous cloud +lowering more darkly, seemed peopled by those in deadly strife. An English +cheer pealed high above all other sounds; a second followed; the mass was +rent asunder, and like the forked lightning from a thunder-cloud, Ramsey +rode forth at the head of his battery, the horses bounding madly, while +the guns sprang behind them like things of no weight; the gunners leaped +to their places, and fighting hand to hand with the French cavalry, they +flew across the plain. +</p> +<p> +“Nobly done, gallant Ramsey!” said a voice behind me. I turned at the +sound; it was Lord Wellington who spoke. My eye fixed upon his stern +features, I forgot all else; when he suddenly recalled me to my +recollection by saying,— +</p> +<p> +“Follow your brigade, sir. Charge!” +</p> +<p> +In an instant I was with my people, who, intervening betwixt Ramsey and +his pursuers, repulsed the enemy with loss, and carried off several +prisoners. The French, however, came up in greater strength; overwhelming +masses of cavalry came sweeping upon us, and we were obliged to retire +behind the light division, which rapidly formed into squares to resist the +cavalry. The Seventh Division, which was more advanced, were, however, too +late for this movement, and before they could effect their formation, the +French were upon them. At this moment they owed their safety to the +Chasseurs Britanniques, who poured in a flanking fire, so close, and with +so deadly an aim, that their foes recoiled, beaten and bewildered. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile the French had become masters of Pogo Velho; the formidable +masses had nearly outflanked us on the right. The battle was lost if we +could not fall back upon our original position, and concentrate our force +upon Fuentes d’Onoro. To effect this was a work of great difficulty; but +no time was to be lost. The Seventh Division were ordered to cross the +Turones, while Crawfurd, forming the light division into squares, covered +their retreat, and supported by the cavalry, sustained the whole force of +the enemy’s attack. +</p> +<p> +Then was the moment to witness the cool and steady bravery of British +infantry; the squares dotted across the enormous plain seemed as nothing +amidst that confused and flying multitude, composed of commissariat +baggage, camp-followers, peasants, and finally, broken pickets and +videttes arriving from the wood. A cloud of cavalry hovered and darkened +around them; the Polish Lancers shook their long spears, impatient of +delay, and the wild huzzas burst momentarily from their squadrons as they +waited for the word to attack. But the British stood firm and undaunted; +and although the enemy rode round their squares, Montbrun himself at their +head, they never dared to charge them. Meanwhile the Seventh Division fell +back, as if on a parade, and crossing the river, took up their ground at +Frenada, pivoting upon the First Division; the remainder of the line also +fell back, and assumed a position at right angles with their former one, +the cavalry forming in front, and holding the French in check during the +movement. This was a splendid manoeuvre, and when made in face of an +overnumbering enemy, one unmatched during the whole war. +</p> +<p> +At sight of this new front, the French stopped short, and opened a fire +from their heavy guns. The British batteries replied with vigor and +silenced the enemy’s cannon. The cavalry drew out of range, and the +infantry gradually fell back to their former position. While this was +going on, the attack upon Fuentes d’Onoro was continued with unabated +vigor. The three British regiments in the lower town were pierced by the +French tirailleurs, who poured upon them in overwhelming numbers; the +Seventy-ninth were broken, ten companies taken, and Cameron, their +colonel, mortally wounded. Thus the lower village was in the hands of the +enemy, while from the upper town the incessant roll of musketry proclaimed +the obstinate resistance of the British. +</p> +<p> +At this period the reserves were called up from the right, in time to +resist the additional troops which Drouet continued to bring on. The +French, reinforced by the whole Sixth Corps, now came forward at a +quick-step. Dashing through the ruined streets of the lower town, they +crossed the rivulet, fighting bravely, and charged against the height. +Already their leading files had gained the crag beside the chapel. A +French colonel holding his cap upon his sword-point waved on his men. +</p> +<p> +The grizzly features of the grenadiers soon appeared, and the dark column, +half-climbing, half-running, were seen scaling the height. A rifle-bullet +sent the French leader tumbling from the precipice; and a cheer—mad +and reckless as the war-cry of an Indian—rent the sky, as the 71st +and 79th Highlanders sprang upon the enemy. +</p> +<p> +Our part was a short one; advancing in half squadrons, we were concealed +from the observation of the enemy by the thick vineyards which skirted the +lower town, waiting, with impatience, the moment when our gallant infantry +should succeed in turning the tide of battle. We were ordered to dismount, +and stood with our bridles on our arms, anxious and expectant. The charge +of the French column was made close to where we were standing,—the +inspiriting cheers of the officers, the loud <i>vivas</i> of the men, were +plainly heard by us as they rushed to the assault; but the space between +us was intersected by walls and brushwood, which totally prevented the +movements of cavalry. +</p> +<p> +Fearlessly their dark column moved up the heights, fixing the bayonets as +they went. No tirailleurs preceded them, but the tall shako of the +Grenadier of the Guard was seen in the first rank. Long before the end of +the column had passed us, the leading files were in action. A deafening +peal of musketry—so loud, so dense, it seemed like artillery—burst +forth. A volume of black smoke rolled heavily down from the heights and +hid all from our view, except when the vivid lightning of the platoon +firing rent the veil asunder, and showed us the troops almost in hand to +hand conflict. +</p> +<p> +“It’s Picton’s Division, I’m certain,” cried Merivale; “I hear the +bagpipes of the Highlanders.” +</p> +<p> +“You are right, sir,” said Hampden, “the Seventy-first are in the same +brigade, and I know their bugles well. There they go again!” +</p> +<p> +“Fourteenth! Fourteenth!” cried a voice from behind, and at the same +moment, a staff officer, without his hat, and his horse bleeding from a +recent sabre-cut, came up. “You must move to the rear, Colonel Merivale; +the French have gained the heights! Move round by the causeway; bring up +your squadrons as quickly as you can, and support the infantry!” +</p> +<p> +In a moment we were in our saddles; but scarcely was the word “to fall in” +given, when a loud cheer rent the very air; the musketry seemed suddenly +to cease, and the dark mass which continued to struggle up the heights +wavered, broke, and turned. +</p> +<p> +“What can that be?” said Merivale. “What can it mean?” +</p> +<p> +“I can tell you, sir,” said I, proudly, while I felt my heart throb as +though it would bound from my bosom. +</p> +<p> +“And what is it, boy? Speak!” +</p> +<p> +“There it goes again! That was an Irish shout! The Eighty-eighth are at +them!” +</p> +<p> +“By Jove, here they come!” said Hampden. “God help the Frenchmen now!” +</p> +<p> +The words were not well spoken, when the red coats of our gallant fellows +were seen dashing through the vineyard. +</p> +<p> +“The steel, boys; nothing but the steel!” shouted a loud voice from the +crag above our heads. +</p> +<p> +I looked up. It was the stern Picton himself who spoke. The Eighty-eighth +now led the pursuit, and sprang from rock to rock in all the mad +impetuosity of battle; and like some mighty billow rolling before the +gale, the French went down the heights. +</p> +<p> +“Gallant Eighty-eighth! Gloriously done!” cried Picton, as he waved his +hat. +</p> +<p> +“Aren’t we Connaught robbers, now?” shouted a rich brogue, as its owner, +breathless and bleeding, pressed forward in the charge. +</p> +<p> +A hearty burst of laughter mingled with the din of the battle. +</p> +<p> +“Now for it, boys! Now for <i>our</i> work!” said old Merivale, drawing +his sabre as he spoke. “Forward! and charge!” +</p> +<p> +We waited not a second bidding, but bursting from our concealment, +galloped down into the broken column. It was no regular charge, but an +indiscriminate rush. Scarcely offering resistance, the enemy fell beneath +our sabres, or the still more deadly bayonets of the infantry, who were +inextricably mingled up in the conflict. +</p> +<p> +The chase was followed up for above half a mile, when we fell back, +fortunately in good time; for the French had opened a heavy fire from +their artillery, and regardless of their own retreating column, poured a +shower of grape among our squadrons. As we retired, the struggling files +of the Rangers joined us,—their faces and accoutrements blackened +and begrimed with powder; many of them, themselves wounded, had captured +prisoners; and one huge fellow of the grenadier company was seen driving +before him a no less powerful Frenchman, and to whom, as he turned from +time to time reluctantly, and scowled upon his jailer, the other +vociferated some Irish imprecation, whose harsh intentions were made most +palpably evident by a flourish of a drawn bayonet. +</p> +<p> +“Who is he?” said Mike; “who is he, ahagur?” +</p> +<p> +“Sorra one o’ me knows,” said the other; “but it’s the chap that shot +Lieutenant Mahony, and I never took my eye off him after; and if the +lieutenant’s not dead, sure it’ll be a satisfaction to him that I cotch +him.” +</p> +<p> +The lower town was now evacuated by the French, who retired beyond the +range of our artillery; the upper continued in the occupation of our +troops; and worn out and exhausted, surrounded by dead and dying, both +parties abandoned the contest, and the battle was over. +</p> +<p> +Both sides laid claim to the victory; the French, because, having taken +the village of Poço Velho, they had pierced the British line, and +compelled them to fall back and assume a new position; the British, +because the attack upon Fuentes d’Onoro has been successfully resisted, +and the blockade of Almeida—the real object of the battle—maintained. +The loss to each was tremendous; fifteen hundred men and officers, of whom +three hundred were prisoners, were lost by the allies, and a far greater +number fell among the forces of the enemy. +</p> +<p> +After the action, a brigade of the light division released the troops in +the village, and the armies bivouacked once more in sight of each other. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIV. +</h2> +<p> +A RENCONTRE. +</p> +<p> +“LIEUTENANT O’MALLEY, 14th Light Dragoons, to serve as extra aide-de-camp +to Major-General Crawfurd, until the pleasure of his Royal Highness the +Prince Regent is known.” Such was the first paragraph of a general order, +dated Fuentes d’Onoro, the day after the battle, which met me as I woke +from a sound and heavy slumber, the result of thirteen hours on horseback. +</p> +<p> +A staff appointment was not exactly what I desired at the moment; but I +knew that with Crawfurd my duties were more likely to be at the pickets +and advanced posts of the army, than in the mere details of note-writing +or despatch-bearing; besides that, I felt, whenever anything of importance +was to be done, I should always obtain his permission to do duty with my +regiment. +</p> +<p> +Taking a hurried breakfast, therefore, I mounted my horse, and cantered +over to Villa Formosa, where the general’s quarters were, to return my +thanks for the promotion, and take the necessary steps for assuming my new +functions. +</p> +<p> +Although the sun had risen about two hours, the fatigue of the previous +day had impressed itself upon all around. The cavalry, men and horses, +were still stretched upon the sward, sunk in sleep; the videttes, weary +and tired, seemed anxiously watching for the relief; and the disordered +and confused appearance of everything bespoke that discipline had relaxed +its stern features, in compassion for the bold exertions of the preceding +day. The only contrast to this general air of exhaustion and weariness on +every side was a corps of sappers, who were busily employed upon the high +grounds above the village. Early as it was, they seemed to have been at +work some hours,—at least so their labors bespoke; for already a +rampart of considerable extent had been thrown up, stockades implanted, +and a breastwork was in a state of active preparation. The officer of the +party, wrapped up in a loose cloak, and mounted upon a sharp-looking +hackney, rode hither and thither as the occasion warranted, and seemed, as +well as from the distance I could guess, something of a tartar. At least I +could not help remarking how, at his approach, the several inferior +officers seemed suddenly so much more on the alert, and the men worked +with an additional vigor and activity. I stopped for some minutes to watch +him, and seeing an engineer captain of my acquaintance among the party, +couldn’t resist calling out:— +</p> +<p> +“I say, Hatchard, your friend on the chestnut mare must have had an easier +day yesterday than some of us, or I’ll be hanged if he’d be so active this +morning.” Hatchard hung his head in some confusion, and did not reply; and +on my looking round, whom should I see before me but the identical +individual I had so coolly been criticising, and who, to my utter horror +and dismay, was no other than Lord Wellington himself. I did not wait for +a second peep. Helter-skelter, through water, thickets, and brambles, away +I went, clattering down the causeway like a madman. If a French squadron +had been behind me, I should have had a stouter heart, although I did not +fear pursuit. I felt his eye was upon me,—his sharp and piercing +glance, that shot like an arrow into me; and his firm look stared at me in +every object around. +</p> +<p> +Onward I pressed, feeling in the very recklessness of my course some +relief to my sense of shame, and ardently hoping that some accident—some +smashed arm or broken collar-bone—might befall me and rescue me from +any notice my conduct might otherwise call for. I never drew rein till I +reached the Villa Formosa, and pulled up short at a small cottage where a +double sentry apprised me of the general’s quarters. As I came up, the low +lattice sprang quickly open, and a figure, half dressed, and more than +half asleep, protruded his head. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what has happened? Anything wrong?” said he, whom I now recognized +to be General Crawfurd. +</p> +<p> +“No, nothing wrong, sir,” stammered I, with evident confusion. “I’m merely +come to thank you for your kindness in my behalf.” +</p> +<p> +“You seemed in a devil of a hurry to do it, if I’m to judge by the pace +you came at. Come in and take your breakfast with us; I shall be dressed +presently, and you’ll meet some of your brother aides-de-camp.” +</p> +<p> +Having given my horse to an orderly, I walked into a little room, whose +humble accommodations and unpretending appearance seemed in perfect +keeping with the simple and unostentatious character of the general. The +preparations for a good and substantial breakfast were, however, before +me, and an English newspaper of a late date spread its most ample pages to +welcome me. I had not been long absorbed in my reading, when the door +opened, and the general, whose toilet was not yet completed, made his +appearance. +</p> +<p> +“Egad, O’Malley, you startled me this morning. I thought we were in for it +again.” +</p> +<p> +I took this as the most seasonable opportunity to recount my mishap of the +morning, and accordingly, without more ado, detailed the unlucky meeting +with the commander-in-chief. When I came to the end, Crawfurd threw +himself into a chair and laughed till the very tears coursed down his +bronzed features. +</p> +<p> +“You don’t say so, boy? You don’t really tell me you said that? By Jove! I +had rather have faced a platoon of musketry than have stood in your shoes! +You did not wait for a reply, I think?” +</p> +<p> +“No, faith, sir, that I did not!” +</p> +<p> +“Do you suspect he knows you?” +</p> +<p> +“I trust not, sir; the whole thing passed so rapidly!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, it’s most unlucky in more ways than one!” He paused for a few +moments as he said this, and then added, “Have you seen the general +order?” pushing towards me a written paper as he spoke. It ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +G.O. ADJUTANT-GENERAL’S OFFICE, VILLA FORMOSA, + +May 6, 1811. + +<i>Memorandum</i>.—Commanding officers are requested to send in to +the military secretary, as soon as possible, the names of officers they +may wish to have promoted in succession to those who have fallen +in action.” +</pre> +<p> +“Now look at this list. The Honorable Harvey Howard, Grenadier Guards, to +be first lieutenant, <i>vice</i>—No, not that. Henry Beauchamp—George +Villiers—ay, here it is! Captain Lyttleton, Fourteenth Light +Dragoons, to be major in the Third Dragoon Guards, <i>vice</i> Godwin, +killed in action; Lieutenant O’Malley to be captain, <i>vice</i> +Lyttleton, promoted. You see, boy, I did not forget you; you were to have +had the vacant troop in your own regiment. Now I almost doubt the prudence +of bringing your name under Lord Wellington’s notice. He may have +recognized you; and if he did so, why, I rather think—that is, I +suspect—I mean, the quieter you keep the better.” +</p> +<p> +While I poured forth my gratitude as warmly as I was able for the +general’s great kindness to me, I expressed my perfect concurrence in his +views. +</p> +<p> +“Believe me, sir,” said I, “I should much rather wait any number of years +for my promotion, than incur the risk of a reprimand; the more so, as it +is not the first time I have blundered with his lordship.” I here narrated +my former meeting with Sir Arthur, at which Crawfurd’s mirth again burst +forth, and he paced the room, holding his sides in an ecstasy of +merriment. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, lad, we’ll hope for the best; we’ll give you the chance that +he has not seen your face, and send the list forward as it is. But here +come our fellows.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, the door opened, and three officers of his staff entered, to +whom, being severally introduced, we chatted away about the news of the +morning until breakfast. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve frequently heard of you from my friend Hammersley,” said Captain +Fitzroy, addressing me. “You were intimately acquainted, I believe?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes! Pray, where is he now? We have not met for a long time.” +</p> +<p> +“The poor fellow’s invalided; that sabre-cut upon his head has turned out +a sad affair, and he’s gone back to England on a sick leave. Old Dashwood +took him back with him as private secretary, or something of that sort.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” said another, “Dashwood has daughters, hasn’t he? No bad notion of +his; for Hammersley will be a baronet some of these days, with a rent-roll +of eight or nine thousand per annum.” +</p> +<p> +“Sir George Dashwood,” said I, “has but one daughter, and I am quite sure +that in his kindness to Hammersley no intentions of the kind you mention +were mixed up.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I don’t know,” said the third, a pale, sickly youth, with handsome +but delicate features. “I was on Dashwood’s staff until a few weeks ago, +and certainly I thought there was something going on between Hammersley +and Miss Lucy, who, be it spoken, is a devilish fine girl, though rather +disposed to give herself airs.” +</p> +<p> +I felt my cheek and my temples boiling like a furnace; my hand trembled as +I lifted my coffee to my lips; and I would have given my expected +promotion twice over to have had any reasonable ground of quarrel with the +speaker. +</p> +<p> +“Egad, lads,” said Crawfurd, “that’s the very best thing I know about a +command. As a bishop is always sure to portion off his daughters with +deaneries and rectories, so your knowing old general always marries his +among his staff.” +</p> +<p> +This sally was met with the ready laughter of the subordinates, in which, +however little disposed. I was obliged to join. +</p> +<p> +“You are quite right, sir,” rejoined the pale youth; “and Sir George has +no fortune to give his daughter.” +</p> +<p> +“How came it, Horace, that you got off safe?” said Fitzroy, with a certain +air of affected seriousness in his voice and manner. “I wonder they let +such a prize escape them.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, it was not exactly their fault, I do confess. Old Dashwood did the +civil towards me, and <i>la belle Lucie</i> herself was condescending +enough to be less cruel than to the rest of the staff. Her father threw us +a good deal together; and in fact, I believe—I fear—that is—that +I didn’t behave quite well.” +</p> +<p> +“You may rest perfectly assured of it, sir,” said I; “whatever your +previous conduct may have been, you have completely relieved your mind on +this occasion, and behaved most shamefully.” +</p> +<p> +Had a shell fallen in the midst of us, the faces around me could not have +been more horror-struck than when, in a cool, determined tone, I spoke +these few words. Fitzroy pushed his chair slightly back from the table, +and fixed his eyes full upon me. Crawfurd grew dark-purple over his whole +face and forehead, and looked from one to the other of us without +speaking; while the Honorable Horace Delawar, the individual addressed, +never changed a muscle of his wan and sickly features, but lifting his +eyes slowly from his muffin, lisped softly out,— +</p> +<p> +“You think so? How very good!” +</p> +<p> +“General Crawfurd,” said I, the moment I could collect myself sufficiently +to speak, “I am deeply grieved that I should so far have forgotten myself +as to disturb the harmony of your table; but when I tell you that Sir +George Dashwood is one of my warmest friends on earth; that from my +intimate knowledge of him, I am certain that gentleman’s statements are +either the mere outpourings of folly or worse—” +</p> +<p> +“By Jove, O’Malley! you have a very singular mode of explaining away the +matter. Delawar, sit down again. Gentlemen, I have only one word to say +about this transaction; I’ll have no squabbles nor broils here; from this +room to the guard-house is a five minutes’ walk. Promise me, upon your +honors, this altercation ends here, or as sure as my name’s Crawfurd, you +shall both be placed under arrest, and the man who refuses to obey me +shall be sent back to England.” +</p> +<p> +Before I well knew in what way to proceed, Mr. Delawar rose and bowed +formally to the general, while I imitated his example; silently we resumed +our places, and after a pause of a few moments, the current of +conversation was renewed, and other topics discussed, but with such +evident awkwardness and constraint that all parties felt relieved when the +general rose from table. +</p> +<p> +“I say, O’Malley, have you forwarded the returns to the adjutant-general’s +office?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; I despatched them this morning before leaving my quarters.” +</p> +<p> +“I am glad of it; the irregularities on this score have called forth a +heavy reprimand at headquarters.” +</p> +<p> +I was also glad of it, and it chanced that by mere accident I remembered +to charge Mike with the papers, which, had they not been lying unsealed +upon the table before me, would, in all likelihood, have escaped my +attention. The post started to Lisbon that same morning, to take advantage +of which I had sat up writing for half the night. Little was I aware at +the moment what a mass of trouble and annoyance was in store for me from +the circumstance. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXV. +</h2> +<p> +ALMEIDA. +</p> +<p> +On the morning of the 7th we perceived, from a movement in the French +camp, that the wounded were being sent to the rear, and shortly afterwards +the main body of their army commenced its retreat. They moved with slow, +and as it were, reluctant steps; and Bessiéres, who commanded the Imperial +Guard, turned his eyes more than once to that position which all the +bravery of his troops was unavailing to capture. Although our cavalry lay +in force to the front of our line, no attempt was made to molest the +retreating French; and Massena, having retired beyond the Aguada, left a +strong force to watch the ford, while the remainder of the army fell back +upon Cuidad Rodrigo. +</p> +<p> +During this time we had succeeded in fortifying our position at Fuentes +d’Onoro so strongly as to resist any new attack, and Lord Wellington now +turned his whole attention to the blockade of Almeida, which, by Massena’s +retreat, was abandoned to its fate. +</p> +<p> +On the morning of the 10th I accompanied General Crawfurd in a +reconnoissance of the fortress, which, from the intelligence we had lately +received, could not much longer hold out against our blockade. The fire +from the enemy’s artillery was, however, hotly maintained; and as night +fell, some squadrons of the Fourteenth, who were picketed near, were +unable to light their watch-fires, being within reach of their shot. As +the darkness increased so did the cannonade, and the bright flashes from +the walls and the deep booming of the artillery became incessant. +</p> +<p> +A hundred conjectures were afloat to account for the circumstance; some +asserting that what we heard were mere signals to Massena’s army; and +others, that Brennier was destroying and mutilating the fortress before he +evacuated it to the allies. +</p> +<p> +It was little past midnight when, tired from the fatigues of the day, I +had fallen asleep beneath a tree, an explosion, louder than any which +preceded it, burst suddenly forth, and as I awoke and looked about me, I +perceived the whole heavens illuminated by one bright glare, while the +crashing noise of falling stones and crumbling masonry told me that a mine +had been sprung; the moment after, all was calm and still and motionless; +a thick black smoke increasing the sombre darkness of the night shut out +every star from view, and some drops of heavy rain began to fall. +</p> +<p> +The silence, ten times more appalling than the din which preceded it, +weighed heavily upon my senses, and a dread of some unknown danger crept +over me; the exhaustion, however, was greater than my fear, and again I +sank into slumber. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had I been half an hour asleep, when the blast of a trumpet again +awoke me, and I found, amidst the confusion and excitement about, that +something of importance had occurred. Questions were eagerly asked on all +sides, but no one could explain what had happened. Towards the town all +was as still as death, but a dropping, irregular fire of musketry issued +from the valley beside the Aguada. “What can this mean; what can it be?” +we asked of each other. “A sortie from the garrison,” said one; “A night +attack by Massena’s troops,” cried another; and while thus we disputed and +argued, a horseman was heard advancing along the road at the top of his +speed. +</p> +<p> +“Where are the cavalry?” cried a voice I recognized as one of my brother +aides-de-camp. “Where are the Fourteenth?” +</p> +<p> +A cheer from our party answered this question, and the next moment, +breathless and agitated, he rode in among us. +</p> +<p> +“What is it? Are we attacked?” +</p> +<p> +“Would to Heaven that were all! But come along, lads, follow me.” +</p> +<p> +“What can it be, then?” said I again; while my anxiety knew no bounds. +</p> +<p> +“Brennier has escaped; burst his way through Pack’s Division, and has +already reached Valde Mula.” +</p> +<p> +“The French have escaped!” was repeated from mouth to mouth; while, +pressing spurs to our horses, we broke into a gallop, and dashed forward +in the direction of the musketry. We soon came up with the 36th Infantry, +who, having thrown away their knapsacks, were rapidly pressing the +pursuit. The maledictions which burst from every side proved how severely +the misfortune was felt by all, while the eager advance of the men bespoke +how ardently they longed to repair the mishap. +</p> +<p> +Dark as was the night, we passed them in a gallop, when suddenly the +officer who commanded the leading squadron called out to halt. +</p> +<p> +“Take care there, lads!” cried he; “I hear the infantry before us; we +shall be down upon our own people.” +</p> +<p> +The words were hardly spoken, when a bright flash blazed out before us, +and a smashing volley was poured into the squadron. +</p> +<p> +“The French! the French, by Jove!” said Hampden. “Forward, boys! charge +them!” +</p> +<p> +Breaking into open order, to avoid our wounded comrades, several of whom +had fallen by the fire, we rode down among them. In a moment their order +was broken, their ranks pierced, and fresh squadrons coming up at the +instant, they were sabred to a man. +</p> +<p> +After this the French pursued their march in silence, and even when +assembling in force we rode down upon their squares, they never halted nor +fired a shot. At Barba del Puerco, the ground being unfit for cavalry, the +Thirty-sixth took our place, and pressed them hotly home. Several of the +French were killed, and above three hundred made prisoners, but our +fellows, following up the pursuit too rashly, came upon an advanced body +of Massena’s force, drawn up to await and cover Brennier’s retreat; the +result was the loss of above thirty men in killed and wounded. +</p> +<p> +Thus were the great efforts of the three preceding days rendered fruitless +and nugatory. To maintain this blockade, Lord Wellington, with an inferior +force, and a position by no means strong, had ventured to give the enemy +battle; and now by the unskilfulness of some, and the negligence of +others, were all his combinations thwarted, and the French general enabled +to march his force through the midst of the blockading columns almost +unmolested and uninjured. +</p> +<p> +Lord Wellington’s indignation was great, as well it might be; the prize +for which he had contested was torn from his grasp at the very moment he +had won it, and although the gallantry of the troops in the pursuit might, +under other circumstances, have called forth eulogium, his only +observation on the matter was a half-sarcastic allusion to the +inconclusive effects of undisciplined bravery. “Notwithstanding,” says the +general order of the day, “what has been printed in gazettes and +newspapers, we have never seen small bodies, unsupported, successfully +opposed to large; nor has the experience of any officer realized the +stories which all have read, of whole armies being driven by a handful of +light infantry and dragoons.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVI. +</h2> +<p> +A NIGHT ON THE AZAVA. +</p> +<p> +Massena was now recalled, and Marmont, having assumed the command of the +French, army, retired towards Salamanca, while our troops went into +cantonments upon the Aguada. A period of inaction succeeded to our +previous life of bustle and excitement, and the whole interest of the +campaign was now centred in Beresford’s army, exposed to Soult in +Estramadura. +</p> +<p> +On the 15th Lord Wellington set out for that province, having already +directed a strong force to march upon Badajos. +</p> +<p> +“Well, O’Malley,” said Crawfurd, as he returned from bidding Lord +Wellington good-by, “your business is all right; the commander-in-chief +has signed my recommendation, and you will get your troop.” +</p> +<p> +While I continued to express my grateful acknowledgments for his kindness, +the general, apparently inattentive to all I was saying, paced the room +with hurried steps, stopping every now and then to glance at a large map +of Spain which covered one wall of the apartment, while he muttered to +himself some broken and disjointed sentences. +</p> +<p> +“Eight leagues—too weak in cavalry—with the left upon Fuenta +Grenaldo—a strong position. O’Malley, you’ll take a troop of +dragoons and patrol the country towards Castro; you’ll reconnoitre the +position the Sixth Corps occupies, but avoid any collision with the +enemy’s pickets, keeping the Azava between you and them. Take rations for +three days.” +</p> +<p> +“When shall I set out, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“Now!” was the reply. +</p> +<p> +Knowing with what pleasure the hardy veteran recognized anything like +alacrity and despatch, I resolved to gratify him; and before half an hour +had elapsed, was ready with my troop to receive his final orders. +</p> +<p> +“Well done, boy!” said he, as he came to the door of the hut, “you’ve lost +no time. I don’t believe I have any further instructions to give you; to +ascertain as far as possible the probable movement of the enemy is my +object, that’s all.” As he spoke this, he waved his hand, and wishing me +“Good-by,” walked leisurely back into the house. I saw that his mind was +occupied by other thoughts; and although I desired to obtain some more +accurate information for my guidance, knowing his dislike to questions, I +merely returned his salute, and set forth upon my journey. +</p> +<p> +The morning was beautiful; the sun had risen about an hour, and the earth, +refreshed by the heavy dew of the night, was breathing forth all its +luxuriant fragrance. The river which flowed beside us was clear as +crystal, showing beneath its eddying current the shining, pebbly bed, +while upon the surface, the water-lilies floated or sank as the motion of +the stream inclined. The tall cork-trees spread their shadows about us, +and the richly plumed birds hopped from branch to branch awaking the +echoes with their notes. +</p> +<p> +It is but seldom that the heart of man is thoroughly attuned to the +circumstances of the scenery around him. How often do we need a struggle +with ourselves to enjoy the rich and beautiful landscape which lies +smiling in its freshness before us! How frequently do the blue sky and the +calm air look down upon the heart darkened and shadowed with affliction! +And how often have we felt the discrepancy between the lowering look of +winter and the glad sunshine of our hearts! The harmony of the world +without with our thoughts within is one of the purest, as it is one of the +greatest, sources of happiness. Our hopes and our ambitions lose their +selfish character when we feel that fortune smiles upon us from all +around, and the flattery which speaks to our hearts from the bright stars +and the blue sky, the peaked mountain or the humble flower, is greater in +its mute eloquence than all the tongue of man can tell us. +</p> +<p> +This feeling did I experience in all its fulness as I ruminated upon my +bettered fortunes, and felt within myself that secret instinct that tells +of happiness to come. In such moods of mind my thoughts strayed ever +homewards, and I could not help confessing how little were all my +successes in my eyes, did I not-hope for the day when I should pour forth +my tale of war and battle-field to the ears of those who loved me. +</p> +<p> +I resolved to write home at once to my uncle. I longed to tell him each +incident of my career, and my heart glowed as I thought over the broken +and disjointed sentences which every cotter around would whisper of my +fortunes, far prouder as they would be in the humble deeds of one they +knew, than in the proudest triumphs of a nation’s glory. +</p> +<p> +Indeed, Mike himself gave the current to my thoughts. After riding beside +me for some time in silence, he remarked,— +</p> +<p> +“And isn’t it Father Rush will be proud when he sees your honor’s a +captain; to think of the little boy that he used to take before him on the +ould gray mare for a ride down the avenue,—to think of him being a +real captain, six feet two without his boots, and galloping over the +French as if they were lurchers! Peggy Mahon, that nursed you, will be the +proud woman the day she hears it; and there won’t be a soldier sober in +his quarters that night in Portumna barracks! ‘Pon my soul, there’s not a +thing with a red coat on it, if it was even a scarecrow to frighten the +birds from the barley, that won’t be treated with respect when they hear +of the news.” +</p> +<p> +The country through which we travelled was marked at every step by the +traces of a retreating army: the fields of rich corn lay flattened beneath +the tramp of cavalry, or the wheels of the baggage-wagons; the roads, cut +up and nearly impassable, were studded here and there with marks which +indicated a bivouac. At the same time, everything around bore a very +different aspect from what we had observed in Portugal; there, the +vindictive cruelty of the French soldiery had been seen in full sway: the +ruined château, the burned villages, the desecrated altars, the murdered +peasantry,—all attested the revengeful spirit of a beaten and +baffled enemy. No sooner, however, had they crossed the frontiers, than, +as if by magic, their character became totally changed. Discipline and +obedience succeeded to recklessness and pillage; and instead of treating +the natives with, inhumanity and cruelty, in all their intercourse with +the Spaniards the French behaved with moderation and even kindness. Paying +for everything, obtaining their billets peaceably and quietly, marching +with order and regularity, they advanced into the heart of the country, +showing, by the most irrefragable proof, the astonishing evidences of a +discipline which, by a word, could convert the lawless irregularities of a +ruffian soldiery into the orderly habits and obedient conduct of a +highly-organized army. +</p> +<p> +As we neared the Azava, the tracks of the retiring enemy became gradually +less perceptible, and the country, uninjured by the march, extended for +miles around us in all the richness and abundance of a favored climate. +The tall corn, waving its yellow gold, reflected like a sea the clouds +that moved slowly above it. The wild gentian and the laurel grew thickly +around, and the cattle stood basking in the clear streams, while some +listless peasant lounged upon the bank beside them. Strange as all these +evidences of peace and tranquillity were, so near to the devastating track +of a mighty army, yet I have more than once witnessed the fact, and +remarked how, but a short distance from the line of our hurried march, the +country lay untouched and uninjured; and though the clank of arms and the +dull roll of the artillery may have struck upon the ear of the far-off +dweller in his native valley, he listened as he would have done to the +passing thunder as it crashed above him; and when the bright sky and pure +air succeeded to the lowering atmosphere and the darkening storm, he +looked forth upon his smiling fields and happy home, while he muttered to +his heart a prayer of thanksgiving that the scourge was passed. +</p> +<p> +We bivouacked upon the bank of the river, a truly Salvator Rosa scene; the +rocks, towering high above us, were fissured by the channel of many a +trickling stream, seeking, in its zigzag current, the bright river below. +The dark pine-tree and the oak mingled their foliage with the graceful +cedar, which spread its fan-like branches about us. Through the thick +shade some occasional glimpses of a starry sky could yet be seen, and a +faint yellow streak upon the silent river told that the queen of night was +there. +</p> +<p> +When I had eaten my frugal supper, I wandered forth alone upon the bank of +the stream, now standing to watch its bold sweeps as it traversed the +lonely valley before me, now turning to catch a passing glance at our red +watch-fires and the hardy features which sat around. The hoarse and +careless laugh, the deep-toned voice of some old campaigner holding forth +his tale of flood and field, were the only sounds I heard; and gradually I +strolled beyond the reach of even these. The path beside the river, which +seemed scarped from the rock, was barely sufficient for the passage of one +man, a rude balustrade of wood being the only defence against the +precipice, which, from a height of full thirty feet, looked down upon the +stream. Here and there some broad gleam of moonlight would fall upon the +opposite bank, which, unlike the one I occupied, stretched out into rich +meadow and pasturage, broken by occasional clumps of ilex and beech. River +scenery has been ever a passion with me. I can glory in the bold and +broken outline of a mighty mountain; I can gaze with delighted eyes upon +the boundless seas, and know not whether to like it more in all the mighty +outpouring of its wrath, when the white waves lift their heads to heaven +and break themselves in foam upon the rocky beach, or in the calm beauty +of its broad and mirrored surface, in which the bright world of sun and +sky are seen full many a fathom deep. But far before these, I love the +happy and tranquil beauty of some bright river, tracing its winding +current through valley and through plain, now spreading into some calm and +waveless lake, now narrowing to an eddying stream with mossy rocks and +waving trees darkening over it. There’s not a hut, however lowly, where +the net of the fisherman is stretched upon the sward, around whose hearth +I do not picture before me the faces of happy toil and humble contentment, +while, from the ruined tower upon the crag, methinks I hear the ancient +sounds of wassail and of welcome; and though the keep be fissured and the +curtain fallen, and though for banner there “waves some tall wall-flower,” +I can people its crumbling walls with images of the past; and the merry +laugh of the warder, and the clanking tread of the mailed warrior, are as +palpably before me as the tangled lichen that now trails from its +battlements. +</p> +<p> +As I wandered on, I reached the little rustic stair which led downward +from the path to the river’s side; and on examining farther, perceived +that at this place the stream was fordable; a huge flat rock, filling up a +great part of the river’s bed, occupied the middle, on either side of +which the current ran with increased force. +</p> +<p> +Bent upon exploring, I descended the cliff, and was preparing to cross, +when my attention was attracted by the twinkle of a fire at some distance +from me, on the opposite side; the flame rose and fell in fitful flashes, +as though some hand were ministering to it at the moment. As it was +impossible, from the silence on every side, that it could proceed from a +bivouac of the enemy, I resolved on approaching it, and examining it for +myself. I knew that the shepherds in remote districts were accustomed thus +to pass the summer nights, with no other covering save the blue vault +above them. It was not impossible, too, that it might prove a Guerilla +party, who frequently, in small numbers, hang upon the rear of a +retreating army. Thus conjecturing, I crossed the stream, and quickening +my pace, walked forward in the direction of the blaze. For a moment a +projecting rock obstructed my progress; and while I was devising some +means of proceeding farther, the sound of voices near me arrested my +attention. I listened, and what was my astonishment to hear that they +spoke in French. I now crept cautiously to the verge of the rock and +looked over; the moon was streaming in its full brilliancy upon a little +shelving strand beside the stream, and here I now beheld the figure of a +French officer. He was habited in the undress uniform of a <i>chasseur á +cheval</i>, but wore no arms; indeed his occupation at the moment was +anything but a warlike one, he being leisurely employed in collecting some +flasks of champagne which apparently had been left to cool within the +stream. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Eh bien, Alphonse!</i>” said a voice in the direction of the fire, +“what are you delaying for?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m coming, I’m coming,” said the other; “but, <i>par Dieu!</i> I can +only find five of our bottles; one seems to have been carried away by the +stream.” +</p> +<p> +“No matter,” replied the other, “we are but three of us, and one is, or +should be, on the sick list.” +</p> +<p> +The only answer to this was the muttered chorus of a French drinking-song, +interrupted at intervals by an imprecation upon the missing flask. It +chanced, at this moment, that a slight clinking noise attracted me, and on +looking down, I perceived at the foot of the rock the prize he sought for. +It had been, as he conceived, carried away by an eddy of the stream and +was borne, as a true prisoner-of-war, within my grasp. I avow that from +this moment my interest in the scene became considerably heightened; such +a waif as a bottle of champagne was not to be despised in circumstances +like mine; and I watched with anxious eyes every gesture of the impatient +Frenchman, and alternately vibrated between hope and fear, as he neared or +receded from the missing flask. +</p> +<p> +“Let it go to the devil,” shouted his companion, once more. “Jacques has +lost all patience with you.” +</p> +<p> +“Be it so, then,” said the other, as he prepared to take up his burden. At +this instant I made a slight effort so to change my position as to obtain +a view of the rest of the party. The branch by which I supported myself, +however, gave way beneath my grasp with a loud crash. I lost my footing, +and slipping downward from the rock, came plump into the stream below. The +noise, the splash, and more than all, the sudden appearance of a man +beside him, astounded the Frenchman, who almost let fall his pannier, and +thus we stood confronting each other for at least a couple of minutes in +silence. A hearty burst of laughter from both parties terminated this +awkward moment, while the Frenchman, with the readiness of his country, +was the first to open the negotiation. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Sacré Dieu!</i>” said he, “what can you be doing here? You’re English, +without doubt.” +</p> +<p> +“Even so,” said I; “but that is the very question I was about to ask you; +what are you doing here?” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Eh bien</i>,” replied the other, gayly, “you shall be answered in all +frankness. Our captain was wounded in the action of the 8th, and we heard +had been carried up the country by some peasants. As the army fell back, +we obtained permission to go in search of him. For two days all was +fruitless; the peasantry fled at our approach; and although we captured +some of our stolen property—among other things, the contents of this +basket—yet we never came upon the track of our comrade till this +evening. A good-hearted shepherd had taken him to his hut, and treated him +with every kindness, but no sooner did he hear the gallop of our horses +and the clank of our equipments, than, fearing himself to be made a +prisoner, he fled up the mountains, leaving our friend behind him; <i>voilà +notre histoire</i>. Here we are, three in all, one of us with a deep +sabre-cut in his shoulder. If you are the stronger party, we are, I +suppose, your prisoners; if not—” +</p> +<p> +What was to have followed I know not, for at this moment his companion, +who had finally lost all patience, came suddenly to the spot. +</p> +<p> +“A prisoner,” cried he, placing a heavy hand upon my shoulder, while with +the other he held his drawn sword pointed towards my breast. +</p> +<p> +To draw a pistol from my bosom was the work of a second; and while gently +turning the point of his weapon away, I coolly said,— +</p> +<p> +“Not so fast, my friend, not so fast! The game is in my hands, not yours. +I have only to pull this trigger, and my dragoons are upon you; whatever +fate befall me, yours is certain.” +</p> +<p> +A half-scornful laugh betrayed the incredulity of him I addressed, while +the other, apparently anxious to relieve the awkwardness of the moment, +suddenly broke in with,— +</p> +<p> +“He is right, Auguste, and you are wrong; we are in his power; that is,” +added he, smiling, “if he believes there is any triumph in capturing such +<i>pauvres diables</i> as ourselves.” +</p> +<p> +The features of him he addressed suddenly lost their scornful expression, +and sheathing his sword with an air of almost melodramatic solemnity, he +gravely pulled up his mustaches, and after a pause of a few seconds, +solemnly ejaculated a malediction upon his fortune. +</p> +<p> +“<i>C’est toujours ainsi</i>,” said he, with a bitterness that only a +Frenchman can convey when cursing his destiny. “<i>Soyez bon enfant</i>, +and see what will come of it. Only be good-natured, only be kind, and if +you haven’t bad luck at the end of it, it’s only because fortune has a +heavier stroke in reserve for you hereafter.” +</p> +<p> +I could not help smiling at the Frenchman’s philosophy, which, assuming as +a good augury, he gayly said, “So, then, you’ll not make us prisoners. +Isn’t it so?” +</p> +<p> +“Prisoners,” said the other, “nothing of the kind. Come and sup with us; +I’ll venture to say our larder is as well stocked as your own; in any case +an omelette, a cold chicken, and a glass of champagne are not bad things +in our circumstances.” +</p> +<p> +I could not help laughing outright at the strangeness of the proposal. “I +fear I must decline,” said I; “you seem to forget I am placed here to +watch, not to join you.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>A la bonne heure</i>,” cried the younger of the two; “do both. Come +along; <i>soyez bon camarade</i>; you are always near your own people, so +don’t refuse us.” +</p> +<p> +In proportion as I declined, they both became more pressing in their +entreaties, and at last, I began to dread lest my refusal might seem to +proceed from some fear as to the good faith of the invitation, and I never +felt so awkwardly placed as when one plumply pressed me by saying,— +</p> +<p> +“<i>Mais pourquoi pas, mon cher?</i>” +</p> +<p> +I stammered out something about duty and discipline, when they both +interrupted me by a long burst of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come!” said they; “in an hour—in half an hour, if you will—you +shall be back with your own people. We’ve had plenty of fighting latterly, +and we are likely to have enough in future; we know something of each +other by this time in the field; let us see how we get on in the bivouac!” +</p> +<p> +Resolving not to be outdone in generosity, I replied at once, “Here goes, +then!” +</p> +<p> +Five minutes afterwards I found myself seated at their bivouac fire. The +captain, who was the oldest of the party, was a fine soldier-like fellow +of some forty years old; he had served in the Imperial Guard through all +the campaigns of Italy and Austria, and abounded in anecdotes of the +French army. From him I learned many of those characteristic traits which +so eminently distinguish the imperial troops, and saw how completely their +bravest and boldest feats of arms depended upon the personal valor of him +who led them on. From the daring enterprise of Napoleon at Lodi to the +conduct of the lowest corporal in the <i>grande armée</i>, the picture +presents nothing but a series of brilliant and splendid chivalry; while, +at the same time, the warlike character of the nation is displayed by that +instinctive appreciation of courage and daring which teaches them to +follow their officers to the very cannon’s mouth. +</p> +<p> +“It was at Elchingen,” said the captain, “you should have seen them. The +regiment in which I was a lieutenant was ordered to form close column, and +charge through a narrow ravine to carry a brigade of guns, which, by a +flanking fire, were devastating our troops. Before we could reach the +causeway, we were obliged to pass an open plain in which the ground dipped +for about a hundred yards; the column moved on, and though it descended +one hill, not a man ever mounted the opposite one. A very avalanche of +balls swept the entire valley; and yet amidst the thunder and the smoke, +the red glare of the artillery, and the carnage around them, our +grenadiers marched firmly up. At last, Marshal Ney sent an aide-de-camp +with orders to the troops to lie flat down, and in this position the +artillery played over us for above half an hour. The Austrians gradually +slackened, and finally discontinued their fire; this was the moment to +resume the attack. I crept cautiously to my knees and looked about. One +word brought my men around me; but I found to my horror that of a +battalion who came into action fourteen hundred strong, not five hundred +remained; and that I myself, a mere lieutenant, was now the senior officer +of the regiment. Our gallant colonel lay dead beside my feet. At this +instant a thought struck me. I remembered a habit he possessed in moments +of difficulty and danger, of placing in his shako a small red plume which +he commonly carried in his belt. I searched for it, and found it. As I +held it aloft, a maddening cheer burst around me, while from out the line +each officer sprang madly forward, and rushed to the head of the column. +It was no longer a march. With a loud cry of vengeance, the mass rushed +forward, the men trying to outstrip their officers, and come first in +contact with the foe. Like tigers on the spring, they fell upon the enemy, +who, crushed, overwhelmed, and massacred, lay in slaughtered heaps around +the cannon. The cavalry of the Guard came thundering on behind us; a whole +division followed; and three thousand five hundred prisoners, and fourteen +pieces of artillery were captured. +</p> +<p> +“I sat upon the carriage of a gun, my face begrimed with powder, and my +uniform blackened and blood-stained. The whole thing appeared like some +shocking dream. I felt a hand upon my shoulder, while a rough voice called +in my ear, ‘<i>Capitaine du soixante-neuvième, tu es mon frère!</i>’ +</p> +<p> +“It was Ney who spoke. This,” added the brave captain, his eyes filling as +he said the words,—“this is the sabre he gave me.” +</p> +<p> +I know not why I have narrated this anecdote; it has little in itself, but +somehow, to me it brings back in all its fulness the recollection of that +night. +</p> +<p> +There was something so strongly characteristic of the old Napoleonist in +the tone of his narrative that I listened throughout with breathless +attention. I began to feel too, for the first time, what a powerful arm in +war the Emperor had created by fostering the spirit of individual +enterprise. The field thus opened to fame and distinction left no bounds +to the ambition of any. The humble conscript, as he tore himself from the +embraces of his mother, wiped his tearful eyes to see before him in the +distance the bâton of a marshal. The bold soldier who stormed a battery +felt his heart beat more proudly and more securely beneath the cordon of +the Legion than behind a cuirass of steel; and to a people in whom the +sense of duty alone would seem cold, barren, and inglorious, he had +substituted a highly-wrought chivalrous enthusiasm; and by the <i>prestige</i> +of his own name, the proud memory of his battles, and the glory of those +mighty tournaments at which all Europe were the spectators, he had +converted a nation into an army. +</p> +<p> +By a silent and instinctive compact we appeared to avoid those topics of +the campaign in which the honor of our respective arms was interested; and +once, when, by mere accident, the youngest of the party adverted to +Fuentes d’Onoro, the old captain adroitly turned the current of the +conversation by saying, “Come, Alphonse, let’s have a song.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said the other. “<i>Les Pas de Charge</i>.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no,” said the captain; “if I am to have a choice, let it be that +little Breton song you gave us on the Danube.” +</p> +<p> +“So be it then,” said Alphonse. “Here goes!” +</p> +<p> +I have endeavored to convey, by a translation, the words he sang; but I +feel conscious how totally their feeling and simplicity are lost when +deprived of their own <i>patois</i>, and the wild but touching melody that +accompanied them. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE BRETON HOME. + +When the battle is o’er, and the sounds of fight +Have closed with the closing day, +How happy around the watch-fire’s light +To chat the long hours away; +To chat the long hours away, my boy, +And talk of the days to come, +Or a better still and a purer joy, +To think of our far-off home. + +How many a cheek will then grow pale, +That never felt a tear! +And many a stalwart heart will quail, +That never quailed in fear! +And the breast that like some mighty rock +Amidst the foaming sea +Bore high against the battle’s shock +Now heaves like infancy. + +And those who knew each other not +Their hands together steal, +Each thinks of some long hallowed spot, +And all like brothers feel: +Such holy thoughts to all are given; +The lowliest has his part; +The love of home, like love of heaven, +Is woven in our heart. +</pre> +<p> +There was a pause as he concluded, each sank in his own reflections. How +long we should have thus remained, I know not; but we were speedily +aroused from our reveries by the tramp of horses near us. We listened, and +could plainly detect in their rude voices and coarse laughter the approach +of a body of Guerillas. We looked from one to the other in silence and in +fear. Nothing could be more unfortunate should we be discovered. Upon this +point we were left little time to deliberate; for with a loud cheer, four +Spanish horsemen galloped up to the spot, their carbines in the rest. The +Frenchmen sprang to their feet, and seized their sabres, bent upon making +a resolute resistance. As for me, my determination was at once taken. +Remaining quietly seated upon the grass, I stirred not for a moment, but +addressing him who appeared to be the chief of the Guerillas, said, in +Spanish:— +</p> +<p> +“These are my prisoners; I am a British officer of dragoons, and my party +is yonder.” +</p> +<p> +This evidently unexpected declaration seemed to surprise them, and they +conferred for a few moments together. Meanwhile they were joined by two +others, in one of whom we could recognize, by his costume, the real leader +of the party. +</p> +<p> +“I am captain in the light dragoons,” said I, repeating my declaration. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Morte de Dios!</i>” replied he; “it is false; you are a spy!” +</p> +<p> +The word was repeated from lip to lip by his party, and I saw, in their +lowering looks and darkened features, that the moment was a critical one +for me. +</p> +<p> +“Down with your arms!” cried he, turning to the Frenchmen. “Surrender +yourselves our prisoners; I’ll not bid ye twice!” +</p> +<p> +The Frenchmen turned upon me an inquiring look, as though to say that upon +me now their hopes entirely reposed. +</p> +<p> +“Do as he bids you,” said I; while at the same moment I sprang to my legs, +and gave a loud, shrill whistle, the last echo of which had not died away +in the distance ere it was replied to. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0217.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="The Tables Turned. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Make no resistance now,” said I to the Frenchmen; “our safety depends on +this.” +</p> +<p> +While this was passing two of the Spaniards had dismounted, and detaching +a coil of rope which hung from their saddle-peak, were proceeding to tie +the prisoners wrist to wrist; the others, with their carbines to the +shoulder, covered us man by man, the chief of the party having singled out +me as his peculiar prey. +</p> +<p> +“The fate of Mascarenhas might have taught you better,” said he, “than to +play this game.” And then added with a grim smile, “But we’ll see if an +Englishman will not make as good a carbonado as a Portuguese!” +</p> +<p> +This cruel speech made my blood run cold, for I knew well to what he +alluded. I was at Lisbon at the time it happened, but the melancholy fate +of Julian Mascarenhas, the Portuguese spy, had reached me there. He was +burned to death at Torres Vedras! +</p> +<p> +The Spaniard’s triumph over my terror was short-lived, indeed, for +scarcely had the words fallen from his lips, when a party of the +Fourteenth, dashing through the river at a gallop, came riding up. The +attitude of the Guerillas, as they sat with presented arms, was sufficient +for my fellows who needed not the exhortation of him who rode foremost of +the party:— +</p> +<p> +“Ride them down, boys! Tumble them over! Flatten their broad beavers, the +infernal thieves!” +</p> +<p> +“Whoop!” shouted Mike, as he rode at the chief with the force of a +catapult. Down went the Spaniard, horse and all; and before he could +disentangle himself, Mike was upon him, his knee pressed upon his neck. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it enough for ye to pillage the whole country without robbing the +king’s throops!” cried he, as he held him fast to the earth with one hand, +while he presented a loaded pistol to his face. +</p> +<p> +By this time the scene around me was sufficiently ludicrous. Such of the +Guerillas as had not been thrown by force from their saddles, had slid +peaceably down, and depositing their arms upon the ground, dropped upon +their knees in a semicircle around us, and amidst the hoarse laughter of +the troopers, and the irrepressible merriment of the Frenchmen, rose up +the muttered prayers of the miserable Spaniards, who believed that now +their last hour was come. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Madre de Dios</i>, indeed!” cried Mike, imitating the tone of a +repentant old sinner in a patched mantle; “it’s much the blessed Virgin +thinks of the like o’ ye, thieves and rogues as ye are; it a’most puts me +beyond my senses to see ye there crossing yourselves like <i>rale</i> +Christians.” +</p> +<p> +If I could not help indulging myself in this retributive cruelty towards +the chief, and leaving him to the tender mercies of Mike, I ordered the +others to rise and form in line before me. Affecting to occupy myself +entirely with them, I withdrew the attention of all from the French +officers, who remained quiet spectators of the scene around them. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Point de façons</i>, gentlemen,” said I, in a whisper. “Get to your +horses and away! Now’s your time. Good-by!” +</p> +<p> +A warm grasp of the hand from each was the only reply, and I turned once +more to my discomforted friends the Guerillas. +</p> +<p> +“There, Mike, let the poor devil rise. I confess appearances were strong +against me just now.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Captain, are you convinced by this time that I was not deceiving +you?” +</p> +<p> +The Guerilla muttered some words of apology between his teeth, and while +he shook the dust from his cloak, and arranged the broken feather of his +hat, cast a look of scowling and indignant meaning upon Mike, whose rough +treatment he had evidently not forgiven. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be looking at me that way, you black thief! or I’ll—” +</p> +<p> +“Hold there!” said I; “no more of this. Come, gentlemen, we must be +friends. If I mistake not, we’ve got something like refreshment at our +bivouac. In any case you’ll partake of our watch-fire till morning.” +</p> +<p> +They gladly accepted our invitation, and ere half an hour elapsed Mike’s +performance in the part of host had completely erased every unpleasant +impression his first appearance gave rise to; and as for myself, when I +did sleep at last, the confused mixture of Spanish and Irish airs which +issued from the thicket beside me, proved that a most intimate alliance +had grown up between the parties. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVII. +</h2> +<p> +MIKE’S MISTAKE. +</p> +<p> +An hour before daybreak the Guerillas were in motion, and having taken a +most ceremonious leave of us, they mounted their horses and set out upon +their journey. I saw their gaunt figures wind down the valley, and watched +them till they disappeared in the distance. “Yes, brigands though they +be,” thought I, “there is something fine, something heroic in the spirit +of their unrelenting vengeance.” The sleuth-hound never sought the lair of +his victim with a more ravening appetite for blood than they track the +retreating columns of the enemy. Hovering around the line of march, they +sometimes swoop down in masses, and carry off a part of the baggage, or +the wounded. The wearied soldier, overcome by heat and exhaustion, who +drops behind his ranks, is their certain victim; the sentry on an advanced +post is scarcely less so. Whole pickets are sometimes attacked and carried +off to a man; and when traversing the lonely passes of some mountain +gorge, or defiling through the dense shadows of a wooded glen, the +stoutest heart has felt a fear, lest from behind the rock that frowned +above him, or from the leafy thicket whose branches stirred without a +breeze, the sharp ring of a Guerilla carbine might sound his death-knell. +</p> +<p> +It was thus in the retreat upon Corunna fell Colonel Lefebvre. Ever +foremost in the attack upon our rear-guard, this gallant youth (he was +scarce six-and-twenty), a colonel of his regiment, and decorated with the +Legion of Honor, he led on every charge of his bold “<i>sabreurs</i>,” +riding up to the very bayonets of our squares, waving his hat above his +head, and seeming actually to court his death-wound; but so struck were +our brave fellows with his gallant bearing, that they cheered him as he +came on. +</p> +<p> +It was in one of these moments as, rising high in his stirrups, he bore +down upon the unflinching ranks of the British infantry, the shrill +whistle of a ball strewed the leaves upon the roadside, the exulting shout +of a Guerilla followed it, and the same instant Lefebvre fell forward upon +his horse’s mane, a deluge of blood bursting from his bosom. A broken cry +escaped his lips,—a last effort to cheer on his men; his noble +charger galloped forward between our squares, bearing to us our prisoner, +the corpse of his rider. +</p> +<p> +“Captain O’Malley,” said a mounted dragoon to the advanced sentry at the +bottom of the little hill upon which I was standing. “Despatches from +headquarters, sir,” delivering into my hands a large sealed packet from +the adjutant-general’s office. While he proceeded to search for another +letter of which he was the bearer, I broke the seal and read as follows:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +ADJUTANT-GENERAL’S OFFICE. + +May 15. + +Sir,—On the receipt of this order you are directed, having previously +resigned your command to the officer next in seniority, to +repair to headquarters at Fueutes d’Onoro, there to report yourself +under arrest. + +I have the honor to be your obedient servant, + +GEORGE HOPETON, + +<i>Military Secretary</i>. +</pre> +<p> +“What the devil can this mean?” said I to myself, as I read the lines over +again and again. “What have I done lately, or what have I left undone to +involve me in this scrape? Ah!” thought I, “to be sure, it can be nothing +else. Lord Wellington <i>did</i> recognize me that unlucky morning, and +has determined not to let me pass unpunished. How unfortunate. Scarcely +twenty-four hours have elapsed since fortune seemed to smile upon me from +every side, and now the very destiny I most dreaded stares me fully in the +face.” A reprimand, or the sentence of a court-martial, I shrank from with +a coward’s fear. It mattered comparatively little from what source +arising, the injury to my pride as a man and my spirit as a soldier would +be almost the same. +</p> +<p> +“This is the letter, sir,” said the orderly, presenting me with a packet, +the address of which was in Power’s hand-writing. Eagerly tearing it open, +I sought for something which might explain my unhappy position. It bore +the same date as the official letter, and ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +My Dear Charley,—I joined yesterday, just in time to enjoy the +heartiest laugh I have had since our meeting. If notoriety can gratify +you, by Jove, you have it; for Charles O’Malley and his man Mickey +Free are bywords in every mess from Villa Formosa to the rear-guard. +As it’s only fair you should participate a little in the fun you’ve +originated, let me explain the cause. Your inimitable man Mike, to +whom it appears you intrusted the report of killed and wounded for +the adjutant-general, having just at that moment accomplished a +letter to his friends at home, substituted his correspondence for your +returns, and doubtless, sent the list of the casualties as very +interesting information to his sweetheart in Ireland. If such be the +case, I hope and trust she has taken the blunder in better part than +old Colbourn, who swears he’ll bring you to a court-martial, under +Heaven knows what charges. In fact, his passion has known no bounds +since the event; and a fit of jaundice has given his face a kind of +neutral tint between green and yellow, like nothing I know of except +the facings of the “dirty half-hundred.” [2] +</pre> +<p> +<a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"> +<!-- Note --></a> +</p> +<p class="foot"> +2 [ For the information of my unmilitary readers, I may remark that this +sobriquet was applied to the 50th Regiment.] +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +As Mr. Free’s letter may be as great a curiosity to you as it has +been to us, I enclose you a copy of it, which Hopeton obtained for +me. It certainly places the estimable Mike in a strong light as a +despatch-writer. The occasional interruption to the current of the +letter, you will perceive, arises from Mike having used the pen of a +comrade, writing being, doubtless, an accomplishment forgotten in +the haste of preparing Mr. Free for the world; and the amanuensis +has, in more than one instance, committed to paper more than was +meant by the author:— +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Mrs. M’Gra,—Tear an’ ages, sure I need not be treating he +way. Now, just say Mrs. Mary—ay, that’ll do—Mrs. Mary, it’s may be +surprised you’ll be to be reading a letter from your humble servant, +sitting on the top of the Alps,—arrah, may be it’s not the Alps; but +sure she’ll never know,—fornent the whole French army, with Bony +himself and all his jinnerals—God be between us and harm—ready to +murther every mother’s son of us, av they were able, Molly darlin’; +but, with the blessing of Providence, and Lord Wellington and Mister +Charles, we’ll bate them yet, as we bate them afore. + +My lips is wathering at the thought o’ the plunder. I often +of Tim Riley, that was hanged for sheep-stealing; he’d be worth his +weight in gold here. + +Mr. Charles is now a captain—devil a less—and myself might be +somethin’ that same, but ye see I was always of a bashful n +and recommended the master in my place. “He’s mighty young, Mister +Charles is,” says my Lord Wellington to me,—“He’s mighty young, Mr. +Free.” “He is, my lord,” says I; “he’s young, as you obsarve, but +he’s as much divilment in him as many that might be his father.” +“That’s somethin’, Mr. Free,” says my lord; “ye say he comes from a +good stock?” “The <i>rale</i> sort, my lord,” says I; “an ould, ancient +family, that’s spent every sixpence they had in treating their +neighbors. My father lived near him for years,”—you see, Molly, I +said that to season the discourse. “We’ll make him a captain,” says +my lord; “but, Mr. Free, could we do nothing for you?” “Nothing, at +present, my lord. When my friends comes into power,” says I, “they’ll +think of me. There’s many a little thing to give away in Ireland, and +they often find it mighty hard to find a man for lord-lieutenant; and +if that same, or a tide-waiter’s place was vacant—” “Just tell me,” +says my lord. “It’s what I’ll do,” says I. “And now, wishing you +happy dreams, I’ll take my lave.” Just so, Molly, it’s hand and glove +we are. A pleasant face, agreeable manners seasoned with natural +modesty, and a good pair of legs, them’s the gifts to push a man’s +way in the world. And even with the ladies—but sure I am forgetting, +my master was proposed for, and your humble servant too, by two +illigant creatures in Lisbon; but it wouldn’t do, Molly, it’s higher +nor that we’ll be looking,—<i>rale</i> princesses, the devil a less. Tell +Kitty Hannigan I hope she’s well; she was a disarving young +in her situation in life. Shusey Dogherty, at the cross road— +I don’t forget the name—was a good-looking slip too; give her my +affectionate salutations, as we say in the Portuguese. I hope I’ll be +able to bear the inclementuous nature of your climate when I go back; +but I can’t expect to stay long—for Lord Wellington can’t do without +me. We play duets on the guitar together every evening. The master is +shouting for a blanket, so no more at present from, + +Your very affectionate friend, + +MICKEY FREE. + +P. S.—I don’t write this myself, for the Spanish tongue p +out o’ the habit of English. Tell Father Rush, if he’d study the +Portuguese, I’d use my interest for him with the Bishop of Toledo. +It’s a country he’d like—no regular stations, but promiscuous eating +and drinking, and as pretty girls as ever confessed their sins. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +My poor Charley, I think I am looking at you. I think I can +see the struggle between indignation, and laughter, which every line +of this letter inflicts upon you. Get back as quickly as you can, and +we’ll try if Crawfurd won’t pull you through the business. In any +case, expect no sympathy; and if you feel disposed to be angry with +all who laugh at you, you had better publish a challenge in the next +general order. George Scott, of, the Greys, bids me say, that if +you’re hard up for cash, he’ll give you a couple of hundred for +Mickey Free. I told him I thought you’d accept it, as your uncle +has the breed of those fellows upon his estate, and might have no +objection to weed his stud. Hammersley’s gone back with the Dashwoods; +but I don’t think you need fear anything in that quarter. +At the same time, if you wish for success, make a bold push for the +peerage and half-a-dozen decorations, for Miss Lucy is most decidedly +gone wild about military distinction. As for me, my affairs go on +well: I’ve had half-a-dozen quarrels with Inez, but we parted good +friends, and my bad Portuguese has got me out of all difficulties with +papa, who pressed me tolerably close as to fortune. I shall want +your assistance in this matter yet. If parchments will satisfy him, I +think I could get up a qualification; but somehow the matter must +be done, for I’m resolved to have his daughter. + +The orderly is starting, so no more till we meet. + +Yours ever, FRED POWER. +</pre> +<p> +“Godwin,” said I, as I closed the letter, “I find myself in a scrape at +headquarters; you are to take the command of the detachment, for I must +set out at once.” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing serious, I hope. O’Malley?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no; nothing of consequence. A most absurd blunder of my rascally +servant.” +</p> +<p> +“The Irish fellow yonder?” +</p> +<p> +“The same.” +</p> +<p> +“He seems to take it easily, however.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, confound him! he does not know what trouble he has involved me in; +not that he’ll care much when he does.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, he does not seem to be of a very desponding temperament. Listen to +the fellow! I’ll be hanged, if he’s not singing!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m devilishly disposed to spoil his mirth. They tell me, however, he +always keeps the troop in good humor; and see, the fellows are actually +cleaning his horses for him, while he is sitting on the bank!” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, O’Malley, that fellow knows the world. Just hear him.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Free was, as described, most leisurely reposing on a bank, a mug of +something drinkable beside him, and a pipe of that curtailed proportion +which an Irishman loves held daintily between his fingers. He appeared to +be giving his directions to some soldiers of the troop, who were busily +cleaning his horses and accoutrements for him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0225.jpg" style="width:100%;" +alt="Mr. Free Pipes While his Friends Pipe-clay. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“That’s it, Jim! Rub ‘em down along the hocks; he won’t kick; it’s only +play. Scrub away, honey; that’s the devil’s own carbine to get clean.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I say, Mr. Free, are you going to give us that ere song?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. I’ll be danged if I burnish your sabre, if you don’t sing.” +</p> +<p> +“Tear an’ ages! ain’t I composing it? Av I was Tommy Moore, I couldn’t be +quicker.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, come along, my hearty; let’s hear it.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, murther!” said Mike, draining the pot to its last few drops, which he +poured pathetically upon the grass before him; and then having emptied the +ashes from his pipe, he heaved a deep sigh, as though to say life had no +pleasures in store for him. A brief pause followed, after which, to the +evident delight of his expectant audience, he began the following song, to +the popular air of “Paddy O’Carroll”:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +BAD LUCK TO THIS MARCHING. + +Air,—<i>Paddy O’Carroll</i>. + +Bad luck to this marching, +Pipe-claying, and starching, +How neat one must be to be killed by the French, +I’m sick of parading, +Through wet and cowld wading, +Or standing all night to be shot in a trench. +To the tune of a fife +They dispose of your life, +You surrender your soul to some illigant lilt; +Now, I like Garryowen, +When I hear it at home, +But it’s not half so sweet when you’re going to be kilt. + +Then, though up late and early, +Our pay comes so rarely, +The devil a farthing we’ve ever to spare; +They say some disaster +Befell the paymaster; +On my conscience, I think that the money’s not there. +And just think what a blunder, +They won’t let us plunder, +While the convents invite us to rob them, ‘tis clear; +Though there isn’t a village, +But cries, “Come and pillage,” +Yet we leave all the mutton behind for Mounseer. + +Like a sailor that’s nigh land, +I long for that island +Where even the kisses we steal if we please; +Where it is no disgrace +If you don’t wash your face, +And you’ve nothing to do but to stand at your ease. +With no sergeant t’abuse us, +We fight to amuse us; +Sure, it’s better bate Christians than kick a baboon. +How I’d dance like a fairy +To see ould Dunleary, +And think twice ere I’d leave it to be a dragoon! +</pre> +<p> +“There’s a sweet little bit for you,” said Mike, as he concluded; “thrown +off as aisy as a game at football.” +</p> +<p> +“I say, Mr. Free, the captain’s looking for you; he’s just received +despatches from the camp, and wants his horses.” +</p> +<p> +“In that case, gentlemen, I must take my leave of you; with the more +regret, too, that I was thinking of treating you to a supper this evening. +You needn’t be laughing; it’s in earnest I am. Coming, sir, coming!” +shouted he, in a louder tone, answering some imaginary call, as an excuse +for his exit. +</p> +<p> +When he appeared before me, an air of most business-like alacrity had +succeeded to his late appearance, and having taken my orders to get the +horses in readiness, he left me at once, and in less than half an hour we +were upon the road. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVIII. +</h2> +<p> +MONSOON IN TROUBLE. +</p> +<p> +As I rode along towards Fuentes d’Onoro, I could not help feeling provoked +at the absurd circumstances in which I was involved. To be made the +subject of laughter for a whole army was by no means a pleasant +consideration; but what I felt far worse was the possibility that the +mention of my name in connection with a reprimand might reach the ears of +those who knew nothing of the cause. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Free himself seemed little under the influence of similar feelings; +for when, after a silence of a couple of hours, I turned suddenly towards +him with a half-angry look, and remarked, “You see, sir, what your +confounded blundering has done,” his cool reply was,— +</p> +<p> +“Ah, then! won’t Mrs. M’Gra be frightened out of her life when she reads +all about the killed and wounded in your honor’s report? I wonder if they +ever had the manners to send my own letter afterwards, when they found out +their mistake!” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Their</i> mistake, do you say? rather <i>yours!</i> You appear to have +a happy knack of shifting blame from your own shoulders. And do you fancy +that they’ve nothing else to do than to trouble their heads about your +absurd letters?” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, it’s easily seen you never saw my letter, or you wouldn’t be +saying that. And sure, it’s not much trouble it would give Colonel Fitzroy +or any o’ the staff that write a good hand just to put in a line to Mrs. +M’Gra, to prevent her feeling alarmed about that murthering paper. Well, +well; it’s God’s blessing! I don’t think there’s anybody of the name of +Mickey Free high up in the army but myself; so that the family won’t be +going into mourning for me on a false alarm.” +</p> +<p> +I had not patience to participate in this view of the case; so that I +continued my journey without speaking. We had jogged along for some time +after dark, when the distant twinkle of the-watch-fires announced our +approach to the camp. A detachment of the Fourteenth formed the advanced +post, and from the officer in command I learned that Power was quartered +at a small mill about half a mile distant; thither I accordingly turned my +steps, but finding that the path which led abruptly down to it was broken +and cut up in many places, I sent Mike back with the horses, and continued +my way alone on foot. +</p> +<p> +The night was deliciously calm; and as I approached the little rustic +mill, I could not help feeling struck with Power’s taste in a billet. +</p> +<p> +A little vine-clad cottage, built close against a rock, nearly concealed +by the dense foliage around it, stood beside a clear rivulet whose eddying +current supplied water to the mill, and rose in a dew-like spray which +sparkled like gems in the pale moonlight. All was still within, but as I +came nearer I thought I could detect the chords of a guitar. “Can it be,” +thought I, “that Master Fred has given himself up to minstrelsy; or is it +some little dress rehearsal for a serenade? But no,” thought I, “that +certainly is not Power’s voice.” I crept stealthily down the little path, +and approached the window; the lattice lay open, and as the curtain waved +to and fro with the night air, I could see plainly all who were in the +room. +</p> +<p> +Close beside the window sat a large, dark-featured Spaniard, his hands +crossed upon his bosom and his head inclined heavily forward, the attitude +perfectly denoting deep sleep, even had not his cigar, which remained +passively between his lips, ceased to give forth its blue smoke wreath. At +a little distance from him sat a young girl, who, even by the uncertain +light, I could perceive was possessed of all that delicacy of form and +gracefulness of carriage which characterize her nation. +</p> +<p> +Her pale features—paler still from the contrast with her jet black +hair and dark costume—were lit up with an expression of animation +and enthusiasm as her fingers swept rapidly and boldly across the strings +of a guitar. +</p> +<p> +“And you’re not tired of it yet?” said she, bending her head downwards +towards one whom I now for the first time perceived. +</p> +<p> +Reclining carelessly at her feet, his arm leaning upon her chair, while +his hand occasionally touched her taper fingers, lay my good friend, +Master Fred Power. An undress jacket, thrown loosely open, and a black +neck-cloth, negligently knotted, bespoke the easy <i>nonchalance</i> with +which he prosecuted his courtship. +</p> +<p> +“Do sing it again?” said he, pressing her fingers to his lips. +</p> +<p> +What she replied, I could not catch; but Fred resumed: “No, no; he never +wakes. The infernal clatter of that mill is his lullaby.” +</p> +<p> +“But your friend will be here soon,” said she. “Is it not so?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, poor Charley! I’d almost forgotten him. By-the-bye, you mustn’t fall +in love with him. There now, do not look angry; I only meant that, as I +knew he’d be desperately smitten, you shouldn’t let him fancy he got any +encouragement.” +</p> +<p> +“What would you have me do?” said she, artlessly. +</p> +<p> +“I have been thinking over that, too. In the first place, you’d better +never let him hear you sing; scarcely ever smile; and as far as possible, +keep out of his sight.” +</p> +<p> +“One would think, Senhor, that all these precautions were to be taken more +on my account than on his. Is he so very dangerous, then?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it! Good-looking enough he is, but, only a boy; at the same +time, a devilish bold one! And he’d think no more of springing through +that window and throwing his arms round your neck, the very first moment +of his arrival, than I should of whispering how much I love you.” +</p> +<p> +“How very odd he must be! I’m sure I should like him.” +</p> +<p> +“Many thanks to both for your kind hints; and now to take advantage of +them.” So saying, I stepped lightly upon the window-sill, cleared the +miller with one spring, and before Power could recover his legs or +Margeritta her astonishment, I clasped her in my arms, and kissed her on +either cheek. +</p> +<p> +“Charley! Charley! Damn it, man, it won’t do!” cried Fred; while the young +lady, evidently more amused at his discomfiture than affronted at the +liberty, threw herself into a seat, and laughed immoderately. +</p> +<p> +“Ha! Hilloa there! What is’t?” shouted the miller, rousing himself from +his nap, and looking eagerly round. “Are they coming? Are the French +coming?” +</p> +<p> +A hearty renewal of his daughter’s laughter was the only reply; while +Power relieved his anxiety by saying,— +</p> +<p> +“No, no, Pedrillo, not the French; a mere marauding party,—nothing +more. I say, Charley,” continued he, in a lower tone, “you had better lose +no time in reporting yourself at headquarters. We’ll walk up together. +Devilish awkward scrape, yours.” +</p> +<p> +“Never fear, Fred; time enough for all that. For the present, if you +permit me, I’ll follow up my acquaintance with our fair friend here.” +</p> +<p> +“Gently, gently!” said he, with a look of most imposing seriousness. +“Don’t mistake her; she’s not a mere country girl: you understand?—been +bred in a convent here,—rather superior kind of thing.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, Fred, I’m not the man to interfere with you for a moment.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-night, Senhor,” said the old miller, who had been waiting patiently +all this time to pay his respects before going. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, that’s it!” cried Power, eagerly. “Good-night, Pedrillo.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Buonos noches</i>,” lisped out Margeritta, with a slight curtsy. +</p> +<p> +I sprang forward to acknowledge her salutation, when Power coolly +interposed between us, and closing the door after them, placed his back +against it. +</p> +<p> +“Master Charley, I must read you a lesson—” +</p> +<p> +“You inveterate hypocrite, don’t attempt this nonsense with <i>me</i>. But +come, tell me how long you have been here?” +</p> +<p> +“Just twenty-four of the shortest hours I ever passed at an outpost. But +listen,—do you know that voice? Isn’t it O’Shaughnessy?” +</p> +<p> +“To be sure it is. Hear the fellow’s song.” +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“My father cared little for shot or shell, +He laughed at death and dangers; +And he’d storm the very gates of hell +With a company of the ‘Rangers.’ +So sing tow, row, row, row, row,” etc. +</pre> +<p> +“Ah, then, Mister Power, it’s twice I’d think of returning your visit, if +I knew the state of your avenue. If there’s a grand jury in Spain, they +might give you a presentment for this bit of road. My knees are as bare as +a commissary’s conscience, and I’ve knocked as much flesh off my +shin-bones as would make a cornet in the hussars!” +</p> +<p> +A regular roar of laughter from both of us apprized Dennis of our +vicinity. +</p> +<p> +“And it’s laughing ye are? Wouldn’t it be as polite just to hold a candle +or lantern for me in this confounded watercourse?” +</p> +<p> +“How goes it, Major?” cried I, extending my hand to him through the +window. +</p> +<p> +“Charley—Charley O’Malley, my son! I’m glad to see you. It’s a +hearty laugh you gave us this morning. My friend Mickey’s a pleasant +fellow for a secretary-at-war. But it’s all settled now; Crawfurd arranged +it for you this afternoon.” +</p> +<p> +“You don’t say so! Pray tell me all about it.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s just what I won’t; for ye see I don’t know it; but I believe old +Monsoon’s affair has put everything out of their heads.” +</p> +<p> +“Monsoon’s affair! What is that? Out with it, Dennis.” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, I’ll be just as discreet about that as your own business. All I +can tell you is, that they brought him up to headquarters this evening +with a sergeant’s guard, and they say he’s to be tried by court-martial; +and Picton is in a blessed humor about it.” +</p> +<p> +“What could it possibly have been? Some plundering affair, depend on it.” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, you may swear it wasn’t for his little charities, as Dr. Pangloss +calls them, they’ve pulled him up,” cried Power. +</p> +<p> +“Maurice is in high feather about it,” said Dennis. “There are five of +them up at Fuentes, making a list of the charges to send to Monsoon; for +Bob Mahon, it seems, heard of the old fellow’s doings up the mountains.” +</p> +<p> +“What glorious fun!” said Tower. “Let’s haste and join them, boys.” +</p> +<p> +“Agreed,” said I. “Is it far from this?” +</p> +<p> +“Another stage. When we’ve got something to eat,” said the major, “if +Power has any intentions that way—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I really did begin to fear Fred’s memory was lapsing; but somehow, +poor fellow, smiles have been more in his way than sandwiches lately.” +</p> +<p> +An admonishing look from Power was his only reply, as he walked towards +the door. Bent upon teasing him, however, I continued,— +</p> +<p> +“My only fear is, he may do something silly.” +</p> +<p> +“Who? Monsoon, is it?” +</p> +<p> +“No, no. Not Monsoon; another friend of ours.” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, I scarcely thought your fears of old Monsoon were called for. He’s +a fox—the devil a less.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no, Dennis. I wasn’t thinking of him. My anxieties were for a most +soft-hearted young gentleman,—one Fred Power.” +</p> +<p> +“Charley, Charley!” said Fred, from the door, where he had been giving +directions to his servant about supper. “A man can scarce do a more silly +thing than marry in the army; all the disagreeables of married life, with +none of its better features.” +</p> +<p> +“Marry—marry!” shouted O’Shaughnessy, “upon my conscience, it’s +incomprehensible to me how a man can be guilty of it. To be sure, I don’t +mean to say that there are not circumstances,—such as half-pay, old +age, infirmity, the loss of your limbs, and the like; but that, with good +health and a small balance at your banker’s, you should be led into such +an embarrassment—” +</p> +<p> +“Men will flirt,” said I, interrupting; “men will press taper fingers, +look into bright eyes, and feel their witchery; and although the fair +owners be only quizzing them half the time, and amusing themselves the +other, and though they be the veriest hackneyed coquettes—” +</p> +<p> +“Did you ever meet the Dalrymple girls, Dennis?” said Fred, with a look I +shall never forget. +</p> +<p> +What the reply was I cannot tell. My shame and confusion were +overwhelming, and Power’s victory complete. +</p> +<p> +“Here comes the prog,” cried Dennis, as Power’s servant entered with a +very plausible-looking tray, while Fred proceeded to place before us a +strong army of decanters. +</p> +<p> +Our supper was excellent, and we were enjoying ourselves to the utmost, +when an orderly sergeant suddenly opened the door, and raising his hand to +his cap, asked if Major Power was there. +</p> +<p> +“A letter for you, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“Monsoon’s writing, by Jove! Come, boys, let us see what it means. What a +hand the old fellow writes! The letters look all crazy, and are tumbling +against each other on every side. Did you ever see anything half so tipsy +as the crossing of that <i>t?</i>” +</p> +<p> +“Read it. Read it out, Fred!” +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Tuesday Evening. + +Dear Power,—I’m in such a scrape! Come up and see me at +once, bring a little sherry with you, and we’ll talk over what’s to be +done. + +Yours ever, + +B. MONSOON. + +Quarter-General. +</pre> +<p> +We resolved to finish our evening with the major; so that, each having +armed himself with a bottle or two, and the remnants of our supper, we set +out towards his quarters, under the guidance of the orderly. After a sharp +walk of half an hour, we reached a small hut, where two sentries of the +Eighty-eighth were posted at the door. +</p> +<p> +O’Shaughnessy procured admittance for us, and in we went. At a small +table, lighted by a thin tallow candle, sat old Monsoon, who, the weather +being hot, had neither coat nor wig on; an old cracked china tea-pot, in +which as we found afterwards he had mixed a little grog, stood before him, +and a large mass of papers lay scattered around on every side,—he +himself being occupied in poring over their contents, and taking +occasional draughts from his uncouth goblet. +</p> +<p> +As we entered noiselessly, he never perceived us, but continued to mumble +over, in a low tone, from the documents before him:— +</p> +<p> +“Upon my life, it’s like a dream to me! What infernal stuff this brandy +is!” +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +CHARGE No. 8.—For conduct highly unbecoming an officer and +a gentleman, in forcing the cellar of the San Nicholas convent at +Banos, taking large quantities of wine therefrom, and subsequently +compelling the prior to dance a bolero, thus creating a riot, and +tending to destroy the harmony between the British and the Portuguese, +so strongly inculcated to be preserved by the general orders. +</pre> +<p> +“Destroy the harmony! Bless their hearts! How little they know of it! I’ve +never passed a jollier night in the Peninsula! The prior’s a trump, and as +for the bolero, he <i>would</i> dance it. I hope they say nothing about my +hornpipe.” +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +CHARGE No. 9.—For a gross violation of his duty as an officer, in +sending a part of his brigade to attack and pillage the alcalde of +Banos; thereby endangering the public peace of the town, being a +flagrant breach of discipline and direct violation of the articles of +war. +</pre> +<p> +“Well, I’m afraid I was rather sharp on the alcalde, but we did him no +harm except the fright. What sherry the fellow had! ‘t would have been a +sin to let it fall into the hands of the French.” +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +CHARGE No. 10.—For threatening, on or about the night of the +3d, to place the town of Banos under contribution, and subsequently +forcing the authorities to walk in procession before him, in absurd +and ridiculous costumes. +</pre> +<p> +“Lord, how good it was! I shall never forget the old alcalde! One of my +fellows fastened a dead lamb round his neck, and told him it was the +golden fleece. The commander-in-chief would have laughed himself if he had +been there. Picton’s much too grave,—never likes a joke.” +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +CHARGE No. 11.—For insubordination and disobedience, in refusing +to give up his sword, and rendering it necessary for the Portuguese +guard to take it by force,—thereby placing himself in a +situation highly degrading to a British officer. +</pre> +<p> +“Didn’t I lay about me before they got it! Who’s that? Who’s laughing +there? Ah, boys, I’m glad to see you! How are you, Fred? Well, Charley, +I’ve heard of your scrape; very sad thing for so young a fellow as you +are. I don’t think you’ll be broke; I’ll do what I can. I’ll see what I +can do with Picton; we are very old friends, were at Eton together.” +</p> +<p> +“Many thanks, Major; but I hear your own affairs are not flourishing. +What’s all this court-martial about?” +</p> +<p> +“A mere trifle; some little insubordination in the legion. Those +Portuguese are sad dogs. How very good of you, Fred, to think of that +little supper.” +</p> +<p> +While the major was speaking, his servant, with a dexterity the fruit of +long habit, had garnished the table with the contents of our baskets, and +Monsoon, apologizing for not putting on his wig, sat down among us with a +face as cheerful as though the floor was not covered with the charges of +the court-martial to be held on him. +</p> +<p> +As we chatted away over the campaign and its chances, Monsoon seemed +little disposed to recur to his own fortunes. In fact, he appeared to +suffer much more from what he termed my unlucky predicament than from his +own mishaps. At the same time, as the evening wore on, and the sherry +began to tell upon him, his heart expanded into its habitual moral +tendency, and by an easy transition, he was led from the religious +association of convents to the pleasures of pillaging them. +</p> +<p> +“What wine they have in their old cellars! It’s such fun drinking it out +of great silver vessels as old as Methuselah. ‘There’s much treasure in +the house of the righteous,’ as David says; and any one who has ever +sacked a nunnery knows that.” +</p> +<p> +“I should like to have seen that prior dancing the bolero,” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“Wasn’t it good, though! He grew jealous of me, for I performed a +hornpipe. Very good fellow the prior; not like the alcalde,—there +was no fun in him. Lord bless him! he’ll never forget me.” +</p> +<p> +“What did you do with him, Major?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ll tell you; but you mustn’t let it be known, for I see they have +not put it in the court-martial. Is there no more sherry there? There, +that will do; I’m always contented. ‘Better a dry morsel with quietness,’ +as Moses says. Ay, Charley, never forget that ‘a merry heart is just like +medicine.’ Job found out that, you know.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, but the alcalde, Major.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! the alcalde, to be sure. These pious meditations make me forget +earthly matters.” +</p> +<p> +“This old alcalde at Banos, I found out, was quite spoiled by Lord +Wellington. He used to read all the general orders, and got an absurd +notion in his head that because we were his allies, we were not allowed to +plunder. Only think, he used to snap his fingers at Beresford, didn’t care +twopence about the legion, and laughed outright at Wilson. So, when I was +ordered down there, I took another way with him. I waited till night-fall, +ordered two squadrons to turn their jackets, and sent forward one of my +aides-de-camp, with a few troopers, to the alcalde’s house. They galloped +into the courtyard, blowing trumpets and making an infernal hubbub. Down +came the alcalde in a passion. ‘Prepare quarters quickly, and rations for +eight hundred men.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Who dares to issue such an order?’ said he. +</p> +<p> +“The aide-de-camp whispered one word in his ear, and the old fellow grew +pale as death. ‘Is he here; is he coming,—is he coming?’ said he, +trembling from head to foot. +</p> +<p> +“I rode in myself at this moment looking thus,— +</p> +<p> +“‘<i>Où est le malheureux?</i>’ said I, in French,—you know I speak +French like Portuguese.” +</p> +<p> +“Devilish like, I’ve no doubt,” muttered Power. +</p> +<p> +“‘<i>Pardon, gracias eccellenza!</i>’ said the alcalde, on his knees.” +</p> +<p> +“Who the deuce did he take you for, Major?” +</p> +<p> +“You shall hear; you’ll never guess, though. Lord, I shall never forget +it! He thought I was Marmont; my aide-de-camp told him so.” +</p> +<p> +One loud burst of laughter interrupted the major at this moment, and it +was some considerable time before he could continue his narrative. +</p> +<p> +“And do you really mean,” said I, “that you personated the Duke de +Raguse?” +</p> +<p> +“Did I not, though? If you had only seen me with a pair of great +mustaches, and a drawn sabre in my hand, pacing the room up and down in +presence of the assembled authorities. Napoleon himself might have been +deceived. My first order was to cut off all their heads; but I commuted +the sentence to a heavy fine. Ah, boys, if they only understood at +headquarters how to carry on a war in the Peninsula, they’d never have to +grumble in England about increased taxation! How I’d mulet the nunneries! +How I’d grind the corporate towns! How I’d inundate the country with +exchequer bills! I’d sell the priors at so much a head, and put the nuns +up to auction by the dozen.” +</p> +<p> +“You sacrilegious old villain! But continue the account of your exploits.” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, I remember little more. After dinner I grew somewhat mellow, and a +kind of moral bewilderment, which usually steals over me about eleven +o’clock, induced me to invite the alcalde and all the aldermen to come and +sup. Apparently, we had a merry night of it, and when morning broke, we +were not quite clear in our intellects. Hence came that infernal +procession; for when the alcalde rode round the town with a paper cap, and +all the aldermen after him, the inhabitants felt offended, it seems, and +sent for a large Guerilla force, who captured me and my staff, after a +very vigorous resistance. The alcalde fought like a trump for us, for I +promised to make him Prefect of the Seine; but we were overpowered, +disarmed, and carried off. The remainder you can read in the +court-martial, for you may think that after sacking the town, drinking all +night, and fighting in the morning, my memory was none of the clearest.” +</p> +<p> +“Did you not explain that you were not the marshal-general?” +</p> +<p> +“No, faith, I know better than that; they’d have murdered me had they +known their mistake. They brought me to headquarters in the hope of a +great reward, and it was only when they reached this that they found out I +was not the Duke de Raguse; so you see, boys, it’s a very complicated +business.” +</p> +<p> +“‘Gad, and so it is,” said Power, “and an awkward one, too.” +</p> +<p> +“He’ll be hanged, as sure as my name’s Dennis!” vociferated O’Shaughnessy, +with an energy that made the major jump from his chair. “Picton will hang +him!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not afraid,” said Monsoon; “they know me so well. Lord bless you, +Beresford couldn’t get on without me!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Major,” said I, “in any case, you certainly take no gloomy nor +desponding view of your case.” +</p> +<p> +“Not I, boy. You know what Jeremiah says: ‘a merry heart is a continual +feast;’ and so it is. I may die of repletion, but they’ll never find me +starved with sorrow.” +</p> +<p> +“And, faith, it’s a strange thing!” muttered O’Shaughnessy, thinking +aloud; “a most extraordinary thing! An honest fellow would be sure to be +hanged; and there’s that old rogue, that’s been melting down more saints +and blessed Virgins than the whole army together, he’ll escape. Ye’ll see +he will!” +</p> +<p> +“There goes the patrol,” said Fred; “we must start.” +</p> +<p> +“Leave the sherry, boys; you’ll be back again. I’ll have it put up +carefully.” +</p> +<p> +We could scarcely resist a roar of laughter as we said, “Good-night.” +</p> +<p> +“Adieu, Major,” said I; “we shall meet soon.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, I followed Power and O’Shaughnessy towards their quarters. +</p> +<p> +“Maurice has done it beautifully!” said Power. “Pleasant revelations the +old fellow will make on the court-martial, if he only remembers what we’ve +heard to-night! But here we are, Charley; so good-night, and remember, you +breakfast with me to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIX. +</h2> +<p> +THE CONFIDENCE. +</p> +<p> +“I have changed the venue, Charley,” said Power, as he came into my room +the following morning,—“I’ve changed the venue, and come to +breakfast with you.” +</p> +<p> +I could not help smiling as a certain suspicion crossed my mind; +perceiving which, he quickly added,— +</p> +<p> +“No, no, boy! I guess what you’re thinking of. I’m not a bit jealous in +that quarter. The fact is, you know, one cannot be too guarded.” +</p> +<p> +“Nor too suspicious of one’s friends, apparently.” +</p> +<p> +“A truce with quizzing. I say, have you reported yourself?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; and received this moment a most kind note from the general. But it +appears I’m not destined to have a long sojourn among you, for I’m desired +to hold myself in readiness for a journey this very day.” +</p> +<p> +“Where the deuce are they going to send you now?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not certain of my destination. I rather suspect there are despatches +for Badajos. Just tell Mike to get breakfast, and I’ll join you +immediately.” +</p> +<p> +When I walked into the little room which served as my <i>salon</i>, I +found Power pacing up and down, apparently wrapped in meditation. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve been thinking, Charley,” said he, after a pause of about ten +minutes,—“I’ve been thinking over our adventures in Lisbon. Devilish +strange girl that senhora! When you resigned in my favor, I took it for +granted that all difficulty was removed. Confound it! I no sooner began to +profit by your absence, in pressing my suit, than she turned short round, +treated me with marked coldness, exhibited a hundred wilful and capricious +fancies, and concluded one day by quietly confessing to me you were the +only man she cared for.” +</p> +<p> +“You are not serious in all this, Fred?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Ain’t I though, by Jove! I wish to Heaven I were not! My dear Charley, +the girl is an inveterate flirt,—a decided coquette. Whether she has +a particle of heart or not, I can’t say; but certainly her greatest +pleasure is to trifle with that of another. Some absurd suspicion that you +were in love with Lucy Dashwood piqued her vanity, and the anxiety to +recover a lapsing allegiance led her to suppose herself attached to you, +and made her treat all my advances with the most frigid indifference or +wayward caprice; the more provoking,” continued he, with a kind of +bitterness in his tone, “as her father was disposed to take the thing +favorably; and, if I must say it, I felt devilish spooney about her +myself. +</p> +<p> +“It was only two days before I left, that in a conversation with Don +Emanuel, he consented to receive my addresses to his daughter on my +becoming lieutenant-colonel. I hastened back with delight to bring her the +intelligence, and found her with a lock of hair on the book before her, +over which she was weeping. Confound me, if it was not yours! I don’t know +what I said, nor what she replied; but when we parted, it was with a +perfect understanding we were never to meet again. Strange girl! She came +that evening, put her arm within mine as I was walking alone in the +garden, and half in jest, half in earnest, talked me out of all my +suspicions, and left me fifty times more in love with her than ever. Egad! +I thought I used to know something about women, but here is a chapter I’ve +yet to read. Come, now, Charley, be frank with me; tell me all you know.” +</p> +<p> +“My poor Fred, if you were not head and ears in love, you would see as +plainly as I do that your affairs prosper. And after all, how invariable +is it that the man who has been the veriest flirt with women,—sighing, +serenading, sonneteering, flinging himself at the feet of every pretty +girl he meets with,—should become the most thorough dupe to his own +feelings when his heart is really touched. Your man of eight-and-thirty is +always the greatest fool about women.” +</p> +<p> +“Confound your impertinence! How the devil can a fellow with a mustache +not stronger that a Circassian’s eyebrow read such a lecture to <i>me?</i>” +</p> +<p> +“Just for the very reason you’ve mentioned. You <i>glide</i> into an +attachment at <i>my</i> time of life; you <i>fall</i> in love at <i>yours</i>.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Power, musingly, “there is some truth in that. This flirting +is sad work. It is just like sparring with a friend; you put on the gloves +in perfect good humor, with the most friendly intentions of exchanging a +few amicable blows; you find yourself insensibly warm with the enthusiasm +of the conflict, and some unlucky hard knock decides the matter, and it +ends in a downright fight. +</p> +<p> +“Few men, believe me, are regular seducers; and among those who behave +‘vilely’ (as they call it), three-fourths of the number have been more +sinned against than sinning. You adventure upon love as upon a voyage to +India. Leaving the cold northern latitudes of first acquaintance behind +you, you gradually glide into the warmer and more genial climate of +intimacy. Each day you travel southward shortens the miles and the hours +of your existence; so tranquil is the passage, and so easy the transition, +you suffer no shock by the change of temperature about you. Happy were it +for us that in our courtship, as in our voyage, there were some certain +Rubicon to remind us of the miles we have journeyed! Well were it if there +were some meridian in love!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not sure, Fred, that there is not that same shaving process they +practise on the line, occasionally performed for us by parents and +guardians at home; and I’m not certain that the iron hoop of old Neptune +is not a pleasanter acquaintance than the hair-trigger of some indignant +and fire-eating brother. But come, Fred, you have not told me the most +important point,—how fare your fortunes now; or in other words, what +are your present prospects as regards the senhora?” +</p> +<p> +“What a question to ask me! Why not request me to tell you where Soult +will fight us next, and when Marmont will cross the frontier? My dear boy, +I have not seen her for a week, an entire week,—seven full days and +nights, each with their twenty-four hours of change and vacillation.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, give me the last bulletin from the seat of war; that at least +you can do. Tell me how you parted.” +</p> +<p> +“Strangely enough. You must know we had a grand dinner at the villa the +day before I left; and when we adjourned for our coffee to the garden, my +spirits were at the top of their bent. Inez never looked so beautiful, +never was one half so gracious; and as she leaned upon my arm, instead of +following the others towards the little summer-house, I turned, as if +inadvertently, into a narrow, dark alley that skirts the lake.” +</p> +<p> +“I know it well; continue.” +</p> +<p> +Power reddened slightly, and went on:— +</p> +<p> +“‘Why are we taking this path?’ said Donna Inez; ‘this is, surely, not a +short way?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, I wished to make my adieux to my old friends the swans. You know I +go to-morrow.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah, that’s true,’ added she. ‘I’d quite forgotten it.’ +</p> +<p> +“This speech was not very encouraging; but as I felt myself in for the +battle, I was not going to retreat at the skirmish. ‘Now or never,’ +thought I. I’ll not tell you what I said. I couldn’t, if I would. It is +only with a pretty woman upon one’s arm; it is only when stealing a glance +at her bright eyes, as you bend beyond the border of her bonnet,—that +you know what it is to be eloquent. Watching the changeful color of her +cheek with a more anxious heart than ever did mariner gaze upon the fitful +sky above him, you pour out your whole soul in love; you leave no time for +doubt, you leave no space for reply. The difficulties that shoot across +her mind you reply to ere she is well conscious of them; and when you feel +her hand tremble, or see her eyelids fall, like the leader of a storming +party when the guns slacken in their fire, you spring boldly forward in +the breach, and blind to every danger around you, rush madly on, and plant +your standard upon the walls.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope you allow the vanquished the honors of war,” said I, interrupting. +</p> +<p> +Without noticing my observation, he continued:— +</p> +<p> +“I was on my knee before her, her hand passively resting in mine, her eyes +bent <i>upon</i> me softly and tearfully—” +</p> +<p> +“The game was your own, in fact.” +</p> +<p> +“You shall hear. +</p> +<p> +“‘Have we stood long enough thus, Senhor?’ said she, bursting into a fit +of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“I sprang to my legs in anger and indignation. +</p> +<p> +“‘There, don’t be passionate; it is so tiresome. What do you call that +tree there?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘It is a tulip-tree,’ said I, coldly. +</p> +<p> +“‘Then, to put your gallantry to the test, do climb up there and pluck me +that flower. No, the far one. If you fall into the lake and are drowned, +why it would put an end to this foolish interview.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And if not?’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, then I shall take twelve hours to consider of it; and if my decision +be in your favor, I’ll give you the flower ere you leave to-morrow.’ +</p> +<p> +“It’s somewhat about thirty years since I went bird-nesting, and hang me, +if a tight jacket and spurs are the best equipment for climbing a tree; +but up I went, and, amidst a running fire of laughter and quizzing, +reached the branch and brought it down safely. +</p> +<p> +“Inez took especial care to avoid me the rest of the evening. We did not +meet until breakfast the following morning. I perceived then that she wore +the flower in her belt; but, alas! I knew her too well to augur favorably +from that; besides that, instead of any trace of sorrow or depression at +my approaching departure, she was in high spirits, and the life of the +party. ‘How can I manage to speak with her?’ said I to myself. ‘But one +word,—I already anticipate what it must be; but let the blow fall—anything +is better than this uncertainty.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The general and the staff have passed the gate, sir,’ said my servant at +this moment. +</p> +<p> +“‘Are my horses ready?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘At the door, sir; and the baggage gone forward.’ +</p> +<p> +“I gave Inez one look— +</p> +<p> +“‘Did you say more coffee?’ said she, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“I bowed coldly, and rose from the table. They all assembled upon the +terrace to see me ride away. +</p> +<p> +“‘You’ll let us hear from you,’ said Don Emanuel. +</p> +<p> +“‘And pray don’t forget the letter to my brother,’ cried old Madame +Forjas. +</p> +<p> +“Twenty similar injunctions burst from the party, but not a word said +Inez. +</p> +<p> +“‘Adieu, then!’ said I. ‘Farewell.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Adios! Go with God!’ chorused the party. +</p> +<p> +“‘Good-by, Senhora,’ said I. ‘Have <i>you</i> nothing to tell me ere we +part?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Not that I remember,’ said she, carelessly. ‘I hope you’ll have good +weather.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘There is a storm threatening,’ said I, gloomily. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, a soldier cares little for a wet jacket.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Adieu!’ said I, sharply, darting at her a look that spoke my meaning. +</p> +<p> +“‘Farewell!’ repeated she, curtsying slightly, and giving one of her +sweetest smiles. +</p> +<p> +“I drove the spurs into my horse’s flanks, but holding him firmly on the +curb at the same moment, instead of dashing forward, he bounded madly in +the air. +</p> +<p> +“‘What a pretty creature!’ said she, as she turned towards the house; then +stopping carelessly, she looked round,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Should you like this bouquet?’ +</p> +<p> +“Before I could reply, she disengaged it from her belt, and threw it +towards me. The door closed behind her as she spoke. I galloped on to +overtake the staff, <i>et voilà tout</i>. Now, Charley, read my fate for +me, and tell me what this portends.” +</p> +<p> +“I confess I only see one thing certain in the whole.” +</p> +<p> +“And that is?” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“That Master Fred Power is more irretrievably in love than any gentleman +on full pay I ever met with.” +</p> +<p> +“By Jove, I half fear as much! Is that orderly waiting for you, Charley? +Who do you want my man?” +</p> +<p> +“Captain O’Malley, sir. General Crawfurd desires to see you at +headquarters immediately.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, Charley, I’m going towards Fuentes. Take your cap; we’ll walk down +together.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, we cantered towards the village, where we separated,—Power +to join some Fourteenth men stationed there on duty, and I to the +general’s quarters to receive my orders. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXX. +</h2> +<p> +THE CANTONMENT. +</p> +<p> +Soon after this the army broke up from Caja, and went into cantonments +along the Tagus, the headquarters being at Portalegre. We were here joined +by four regiments of infantry lately arrived from England, and the 12th +Light Dragoons. I shall not readily forget the first impression created +among our reinforcements by the habits of our life at this period. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0247.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="A Hunting Turn-out in the Peninsula." +/><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +Brimful of expectation, they had landed at Lisbon, their minds filled with +all the glorious expectancy of a brilliant campaign; sieges, storming, and +battle-fields floated before their excited imagination. Scarcely, however, +had they reached the camp, when these illusions were dissipated. +Breakfasts, dinners, private theatricals, pigeon matches, formed our daily +occupation. Lord Wellington’s hounds threw off regularly twice a week; and +here might be seen every imaginable species of equipment, from the +artillery officer mounted on his heavy troop horse, to the infantry +subaltern on a Spanish jennet. Never was anything more ludicrous than our +turn-out. Every quadruped in the army was put into requisition. And even +those who rolled not from their saddles from sheer necessity, were most +likely to do so from laughing at their neighbors. The pace may not have +equalled Melton, nor the fences have been as stubborn as in +Leicestershire, but I’ll be sworn there was more laughter, more fun, and +more merriment, in one day with us, than in a whole season with the best +organized pack in England. With a lively trust that the country was open +and the leaps easy, every man took the field. Indeed, the only anxiety +evinced at all, was to appear at the meet in something like jockey +fashion, and I must confess that this feeling was particularly conspicuous +among the infantry. Happy the man whose kit boasted a pair of cords or +buck skins; thrice happy he who sported a pair of tops. I myself was in +that enviable position, and well remember with what pride of heart I +cantered up to cover in all the superior <i>éclat</i> of my costume, +though, if truth were to be spoken, I doubt if I should have passed muster +among my friends of the “Blazers.” A round cavalry jacket and a foraging +cap with a hanging tassel were the strange accompaniments of my more +befitting nether garments. Whatever our costumes, the scene was a most +animated one. Here the shell-jacket of a heavy dragoon was seen storming +the fence of a vineyard; there the dark green of a rifleman was going the +pace over the plain. The unsportsmanlike figure of a staff officer might +be observed emerging from a drain, while some neck-or-nothing Irishman, +with light infantry wings, was flying at every fence before him, and +overturning all in his way. The rules and regulations of the service +prevailed not here; the starred and gartered general, the plumed and +aiguilletted colonel obtained but little deference and less mercy from his +more humble subaltern. In fact, I am half disposed to think that many an +old grudge of rigid discipline or severe duty met with its retribution +here. More than once have I heard the muttered sentences around me which +boded like this,— +</p> +<p> +“Go the pace, Harry, never flinch it! There’s old Colquhoun—take him +in the haunches; roll him over!” +</p> +<p> +“See here, boys—watch how I’ll scatter the staff—Beg your +pardon, General, hope I haven’t hurt you. Turn about—fair play—I +have taught <i>you</i> to take up a position now.” +</p> +<p> +I need scarcely say there was one whose person was sacred from all such +attacks. He was well mounted upon a strong, half-breed horse; rode always +foremost, following the hounds with the same steady pertinacity with which +he would have followed the enemy, his compressed lip rarely opening for a +laugh when even the most ludicrous misadventure was enacting before him; +and when by chance he would give way, the short ha! ha! was over in a +moment, and the cold, stern features were as fixed and impassive as +before. +</p> +<p> +All the excitement, all the enthusiasm of a hunting-field, seemed +powerless to turn his mind from the pre-occupation which the mighty +interests he presided over, exacted. I remember once an incident which, +however trivial in itself, is worth recording as illustrative of what I +mean. We were going along at a topping pace, the hounds, a few fields in +advance, were hidden from our view by a small beech copse. The party +consisted of not more than six persons, one of whom was Lord Wellington +himself. Our run had been a splendid one, and as we were pursuing the fox +to earth, every man of us pushed his horse to his full stride in the hot +enthusiasm of such a moment. +</p> +<p> +“This way, my lord, this way,” said Colonel Conyers, an old Melton man, +who led the way. “The hounds are in the valley; keep to the left.” As no +reply was made, after a few moments’ pause Conyers repeated his +admonition, “You are wrong, my lord, the hounds are hunting yonder.” +</p> +<p> +“I know it!” was the brief answer given, with a shortness that almost +savored of asperity; for a second or two not a word was spoken. +</p> +<p> +“How far is Niza, Gordon?” inquired Lord Wellington. +</p> +<p> +“About five leagues, my lord,” replied the astonished aide-de-camp. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the direction, is it not?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, my lord.” +</p> +<p> +“Let’s go over and inspect the wounded.” +</p> +<p> +No more was said, and before a second was given for consideration, away +went his lordship, followed by his aide-de-camp, his pace the same +stretching gallop, and apparently feeling as much excitement, as he dashed +onwards towards the hospital, as though following in all the headlong +enthusiasm of a fox chase. +</p> +<p> +Thus passed our summer; a life of happy ease and recreation succeeding to +the harassing fatigues and severe privations of the preceding campaign. +Such are the lights and shadows of a soldier’s life; such the checkered +surface of his fortunes. Constituting, by their very change, that buoyant +temperament, that happy indifference, which enables him to derive its full +enjoyment from each passing incident of his career. +</p> +<p> +While thus we indulged in all the fascinations of a life of pleasure, the +rigid discipline of the army was never for a moment forgotten. Reviews, +parades, and inspections were of daily occurrence, and even a superficial +observer could not fail to detect that under this apparent devotion to +amusement and enjoyment, our commander-in-chief concealed a deep stroke of +his policy. +</p> +<p> +The spirits of both men and officers, broken, in spite of their successes, +by the incessant privations they had endured, imperatively demanded this +period of rest and repose. The infantry, many of whom had served in the +ill-fated campaign of Walcharen, wore still suffering from the effects of +the intermittent fever. The cavalry, from deficient forage, severe +marches, and unremitting service, were in great part unfit for duty. To +take the field under circumstances like these was therefore impossible; +and with the double object of restoring their wonted spirit to his troops, +and checking the ravages which sickness and the casualties of war had made +within his ranks, Lord Wellington embraced the opportunity of the enemy’s +inaction to take up his present position on the Tagus. +</p> +<p> +But while we were enjoying all the pleasures of a country life, enhanced +tenfold by daily association with gay and cheerful companions, the +master-mind, whose reach extended from the profoundest calculations of +strategy to minutest details of military organization, was never idle. +Foreseeing that a period of inaction, like the present, must only be like +the solemn calm that preludes the storm, he prepared for the future by +those bold conceptions and unrivalled combinations which were to guide him +through many a field of battle and of danger to end his career of glory in +the liberation of the Peninsula. +</p> +<p> +The failure of the attack upon Badajos had neither damped his ardor nor +changed his views; and he proceeded to the investment of Ciudad Rodrigo +with the same intense determination of uprooting the French occupation in +Spain by destroying their strongholds and cutting off their resources. +Carrying aggressive war in one hand, he turned the other towards the +maintenance of those defences which, in the event of disaster or defeat, +must prove the refuge of the army. +</p> +<p> +To the lines of Torres Vedras he once more directed his attention. +Engineer officers were despatched thither; the fortresses were put into +repair; the bridges broken or injured during the French invasion were +restored; the batteries upon the Tagus were rendered more effective, and +furnaces for heating shot were added to them. +</p> +<p> +The inactivity and apathy of the Portuguese government but ill +corresponded with his unwearied exertions; and despite of continual +remonstrances and unceasing representations, the bridges over the Leira +and Alva were left unrepaired, and the roads leading to them, so broken as +to be almost impassable, might seriously have endangered the retreat of +the army, should such a movement be deemed necessary. +</p> +<p> +It was in the first week of September. I was sent with despatches for the +engineer officer in command at the lines, and during the fortnight of my +absence, was enabled for the first time to examine those extraordinary +defences which, for the space of thirty miles, extended over a country +undulating in hill and valley, and presenting, by a succession of natural +and artificial resources, the strongest and most impregnable barrier that +has ever been presented against the advance of a conquering army. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXI. +</h2> +<p> +MICKEY FREE’S ADVENTURE. +</p> +<p> +When I returned to the camp, I found the greatest excitement prevailing on +all sides. Each day brought in fresh rumors that Marmont was advancing in +force; that sixty thousand Frenchmen were in full march upon Ciudad +Rodrigo, to raise the blockade, and renew the invasion of Portugal. +Intercepted letters corroborated these reports; and the Guerillas who +joined us spoke of large convoys which they had seen upon the roads from +Salamanca and Tamanes. +</p> +<p> +Except the light division, which, under the command of Crawfurd, were +posted upon the right of the Aguada, the whole of our army occupied the +country from El Bodon to Gallegos; the Fourth Division being stationed at +Fuente Guenaldo, where some intrenchments had been hastily thrown up. +</p> +<p> +To this position Lord Wellington resolved upon retreating, as affording +points of greater strength and more capability of defence than the other +line of road, which led by Almeida upon the Coa. Of the enemy’s intentions +we were not long to remain in doubt; for on the morning of the 24th, a +strong body were seen descending from the pass above Ciudad Rodrigo, and +cautiously reconnoitring the banks of the Aguada. Far in the distance a +countless train of wagons, bullock-cars, and loaded mules were seen +winding their slow length along, accompanied by several squadrons of +dragoons. +</p> +<p> +Their progress was slow, but as evening fell they entered the gates of the +fortress; and the cheering of the garrison mixing with the strains of +martial music, faint from distance, reached us where we lay upon the +far-off heights of El Bodon. So long as the light lasted, we could +perceive fresh troops arriving; and even when the darkness came on, we +could detect the position of the reinforcing columns by the bright +watch-fires which gleamed along the plain. +</p> +<p> +By daybreak we were under arms, anxiously watching for the intentions of +our enemy, which soon became no longer dubious. Twenty-five squadrons of +cavalry, supported by a whole division of infantry, were seen to defile +along the great road from Ciudad Rodrigo to Guenaldo. Another column, +equally numerous, marched straight upon Espeja; nothing could be more +beautiful, nothing more martial, than their appearance: emerging from a +close mountain gorge, they wound along the narrow road and appeared upon +the bridge of the Aguada just as the morning sun was bursting forth, its +bright beams tipping the polished cuirassiers and their glittering +equipments, they shone in their panoply like the gay troop of some ancient +tournament. The lancers of Berg, distinguished by their scarlet dolmans +and gorgeous trappings, were followed by the Cuirassiers of the Guard, who +again were succeeded by the <i>chasseurs à cheval</i>, their bright steel +helmets and light-blue uniforms, their floating plumes and dappled +chargers, looking the very <i>beau idéal</i> of light horsemen; behind, +the dark masses of the infantry pressed forward and deployed into the +plain; while, bringing up the rear, the rolling din, like distant thunder, +announced the “dread artillery.” +</p> +<p> +On they came, the seemingly interminable line converging on to that one +spot upon whose summit now we assembled a force of scarcely ten thousand +bayonets. +</p> +<p> +While this brilliant panorama was passing before our eyes, we ourselves +were not idle. Orders had been sent to Picton to come up from the left +with his division. Alten’s cavalry and a brigade of artillery were sent to +the front, and every preparation which the nature of the ground admitted +was made to resist the advance of the enemy. While these movements on +either side occupied some hours, the scene was every moment increasing in +interest. The large body of cavalry was now seen forming into columns of +attack. Nine battalions of infantry moved up to their support, and forming +into columns, echelons, and squares, performed before us all the +manoeuvres of a review with the most admirable precision and rapidity; but +from these our attention was soon taken by a brilliant display upon our +left. Here, emerging from the wood which flanked the Aguada, were now to +be seen the gorgeous staff of Marmont himself. Advancing at a walk, they +came forward amidst the <i>vivas</i> of the assembled thousands, burning +with ardor and thirsting for victory. For a moment, as I looked, I could +detect the marshal himself, as, holding his plumed hat above his head, he +returned the salute of a lancer regiment, who proudly waved their banners +as he passed; but, hark, what are those clanging sounds which, rising high +above the rest, seem like the war-cry of a warrior? +</p> +<p> +“I can’t mistake those tones,” said a bronzed old veteran beside me; +“those are the brass bands of the Imperial Guard. Can Napoleon be there? +See, there they come!” As he spoke, the head of a column emerged from the +wood, and deploying as they came, poured into the plain. For above an hour +that mighty tide flowed on, and before noon a force of sixty thousand men +was collected in the space beneath us. +</p> +<p> +I was not long to remain an unoccupied spectator of this brilliant +display, for I soon received orders to move down with my squadron to the +support of the Eleventh Light Dragoons, who were posted at the base of the +hill. The order at the moment was anything but agreeable, for I was +mounted upon a hack pony, on which I had ridden over from Crawfurd’s +Division early in the morning, and suspecting that there might be some hot +work during the day, had ordered Mike to follow with my horse. There was +no time, however, for hesitation, and I moved my men down the slope in the +direction of the skirmishers. +</p> +<p> +The position we occupied was singularly favorable,—our flanks +defended on either side by brushwood, we could only be assailed in front; +and here, notwithstanding our vast inferiority of force, we steadily +awaited the attack. As I rode from out the thick wood, I could not help +feeling surprised at the sounds which greeted me. Instead of the usual low +and murmuring tones, the muttered sentences which precede a cavalry +advance,—a roar of laughter shook the entire division, while +exclamations burst from every side around me: “Look at him now!” “They +have him, by heavens, they have him!” “Well done, well done!” “How the +fellow rides!” “He’s hit, he’s hit!” “No, no!” “Is he down?” “He’s down!” +</p> +<p> +A loud cheer rent the air at this moment, and I reached the front in time +to learn, the reason of all this excitement. In the wide plain before me a +horseman was seen, having passed the ford of the Aguada, to advance at the +top of his speed towards the British lines. As he came nearer, it was +perceived that he was accompanied by a led horse, and apparently with +total disregard of the presence of an enemy, rode boldly and carelessly +forward. Behind him rode three lancers, their lances couched, their horses +at speed; the pace was tremendous, and the excitement intense: for +sometimes, as the leading horseman of the pursuit neared the fugitive, he +would bend suddenly upon the saddle, and swerving to the right or the +left, totally evade him, while again at others, with a loud cry of bold +defiance, rising in his stirrups, he would press on, and with a shake of +his bridle that bespoke the jockey, almost distance the enemy. +</p> +<p> +“That must be your fellow, O’Malley; that must be your Irish groom!” cried +a brother officer. There could be no doubt of it. It was Mike himself. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be hanged, if he’s not playing with them!” said Baker. “Look at the +villain! He’s holding in; that’s more than the Frenchmen are doing. Look! +look at the fellow on the gray horse! He has flung his trumpet to his +back, and drawn his sabre.” +</p> +<p> +A loud cheer burst from the French lines; the trumpeter was gaining at +every stride. Mike had got into deep ground, and the horses would not keep +together. “Let the brown horse go! Let him go, man!” shouted the dragoons, +while I re-echoed the cry with my utmost might. But not so, Mike held +firmly on, and spurring madly, he lifted his horse at each stride, turning +from time to time a glance at his pursuer. A shout of triumph rose from +the French side; tin; trumpeter was beside him; his arm was uplifted; the +sabre above his head. A yell broke from the British, and with difficulty +could the squadron be restrained. For above a minute the horses went side +by side, but the Frenchman delayed his stroke until he could get a little +in the front. My excitement had rendered me speechless; if a word could +have saved my poor fellow, I could not have spoken. A mist seemed to +gather across my eyes, and the whole plain and its peopled thousands +danced before my vision. +</p> +<p> +“He’s down!” “He’s down, by heavens!” “No! no, no!” “Look there! Nobly +done!” “Gallant fellow!” “He has him! he has him, by ——!” A +cheer that rent the very air above us broke from the squadrons, and Mike +galloped in among us, holding the Frenchman by the throat with one hand; +the bridle of his horse he firmly grasped with his own in the other. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0255.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Mike Capturing the Trumpeter." +/><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“How was it? How did he do it?” +</p> +<p> +“He broke his sword-arm with a blow, and the Frenchman’s sabre fell to the +earth.” +</p> +<p> +“Here he is, Mister Charles; and musha, but it’s trouble he gave me to +catch him! And I hope your honor won’t be displeased at me losing the +brown horse. I was obliged to let him go when the thief closed on me; but +sure, there he is! May I never, if he’s not galloping into the lines by +himself!” As he spoke, my brown charger came cantering up to the +squadrons, and took his place in the line with the rest. +</p> +<p> +I had scarcely time to mount my horse, amidst a buzz of congratulations, +when our squadron was ordered to the front. Mixed up with detachments from +the Eleventh and Sixteenth, we continued to resist the enemy for about two +hours. +</p> +<p> +Our charges were quick, sharp, and successive, pouring in our numbers +wherever the enemy appeared for a moment to be broken, and then retreating +under cover of our infantry when the opposing cavalry came down upon us in +overwhelming numbers. +</p> +<p> +Nothing could be more perfect than the manner in which the different +troops relieved each other during this part of the day. When the French +squadrons advanced, ours met them as boldly. When the ground became no +longer tenable, we broke and fell back, and the bayonets of the infantry +arrested their progress. If the cavalry pressed heavily upon the squares, +ours came up to the relief, and as they were beaten back, the artillery +opened upon them with an avalanche of grape-shot. +</p> +<p> +I have seen many battles of greater duration and more important in result; +many there have been in which more tactic was displayed, and greater +combinations called forth,—but never did I witness a more desperate +hand-to-hand conflict than on the heights of El Bodon. +</p> +<p> +Baffled by our resistance, Montbrun advanced with the Cuirassiers of the +Guard. Riding down our advanced squadrons, they poured upon us like some +mighty river, overwhelming all before it, and charged, cheering, up the +heights. Our brave troopers were thrown back upon the artillery, and many +of them cut down beside the guns. The artillerymen and the drivers shared +the same fate, and the cannon were captured. A cheer of exultation burst +from the French, and their <i>vivas</i> rent the air. Their exultation was +short-lived, and that cheer their death-cry; for the Fifth Foot, who had +hitherto lain concealed in the grass, sprang madly to their feet, their +gallant Major Ridge at their head. With a yell of vengeance they rushed +upon the foe; the glistening bayonets glanced amidst the cavalry of the +French; the troops pressed hotly home; and while the cuirassiers were +driven down the hill, the guns were recaptured, limbered up, and brought +away. This brilliant charge was the first recorded instance of cavalry +being assailed by infantry in line. +</p> +<p> +But the hill could no longer be held; the French were advancing on either +flank; overwhelming numbers pressed upon the front, and retreat was +unavoidable. The cavalry were ordered to the rear, and Picton’s Division, +throwing themselves into squares, covered the retreating movement. +</p> +<p> +The French dragoons bore down upon every face of those devoted battalions; +the shouts of triumph cheered them as the earth trembled beneath their +charge,—but the British infantry, reserving their fire until the +sabres clanked with the bayonet, poured in a shattering volley, and the +cry of the wounded and the groans of the dying rose from the smoke around +them. +</p> +<p> +Again and again the French came on; and the same fate ever awaited then. +The only movement in the British squares was closing up the spaces as +their comrades fell or sank wounded to the earth. +</p> +<p> +At last reinforcements came up from the left; the whole retreated across +the plain, until as they approached Guenaldo, our cavalry, having +re-formed, came to their aid with one crushing charge, which closed the +day. +</p> +<p> +That same night Lord Wellington fell back, and concentrating his troops +within a narrow loop of land bounded on either flank by the Coa, awaited +the arrival of the light division, which joined us at three in the +morning. +</p> +<p> +The following day Marmont again made a demonstration of his force, but no +attack followed. The position was too formidable to be easily assailed, +and the experience of the preceding day had taught him that, however +inferior in numbers, the troops he was opposed to were as valiant as they +were ably commanded. +</p> +<p> +Soon after this, Marmont retired on the valley of the Tagus. Dorsenne also +fell back, and for the present at least, no further effort was made to +prosecute the invasion of Portugal. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXII. +</h2> +<p> +THE SAN PETRO. +</p> +<p> +“Not badly wounded, O’Malley, I hope?” said General Crawfurd, as I waited +upon him soon after the action. +</p> +<p> +I could not help starting at the question, while he repeated it, pointing +at the same time to my left shoulder, from which a stream of blood was now +flowing down my coat-sleeve. +</p> +<p> +“I never noticed it, sir, till this moment. It can’t be of much +consequence, for I have been on horseback the entire day, and never felt +it.” +</p> +<p> +“Look to it at once, boy; a man wants all his blood for this campaign. Go +to your quarters. I shall not need you for the present; so pray see the +doctor at once.” +</p> +<p> +As I left the general’s quarters, I began to feel sensible of pain, and +before a quarter of an hour had elapsed, had quite convinced myself that +my wound was a severe one. The hand and arm were swollen, heavy, and +distended with hemorrhage beneath the skin, my thirst became great, and a +cold, shuddering sensation passed over me from time to time. +</p> +<p> +I sat down for a moment upon the grass, and was just reflecting within +myself what course I should pursue, when I heard the tramp of feet +approaching. I looked up, and perceived some soldiers in fatigue dresses, +followed by a few others who, from their noiseless gestures and sad +countenances, I guessed were carrying some wounded comrade to the rear. +</p> +<p> +“Who is it, boys?” cried I. +</p> +<p> +“It’s the major, sir, the Lord be good to him!” said a hardy-looking +Eighty-eighth man, wiping his eye with the cuff of his coat as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Not your major? Not Major O’Shaughnessy?” said I, jumping up and rushing +forward towards the litter. Alas, too true, it was the gallant fellow +himself! There he lay, pale and cold; his bloodless cheek and parted lips +looking like death itself. A thin blue rivulet trickled from his forehead, +but his most serious wound appeared to be in the side; his coat was open, +and showed a mass of congealed and clotted blood, from the midst of which, +with every motion of the way, a fresh stream kept welling upward. Whether +from the shock or my loss of blood or from both together, I know not, but +I sank fainting to the ground. +</p> +<p> +It would have needed a clearer brain and a cooler judgment than I +possessed to have conjectured where I was, and what had occurred to me, +when next I recovered my senses. Weak, fevered, and with a burning thirst, +I lay, unable to move, and could merely perceive the objects which lay +within the immediate reach of my vision. The place was cold, calm, and +still as the grave. A lamp, which hung high above my head, threw a faint +light around, and showed me, within a niche of the opposite wall, the +figure of a gorgeously dressed female; she appeared to be standing +motionless, but as the pale light flickered upon her features, I thought I +could detect the semblance of a smile. The splendor of her costume and the +glittering gems which shone upon her spotless robe gleamed through the +darkness with an almost supernatural brilliancy, and so beautiful did she +look, so calm her pale features, that as I opened and shut my eyes and +rubbed my lids, I scarcely dared to trust to my erring senses, and believe +it could be real. What could it mean? Whence this silence; this cold sense +of awe and reverence? Was it a dream; was it the fitful vision of a +disordered intellect? Could it be death? My eyes were riveted upon that +beautiful figure. I essayed to speak, but could not; I would have beckoned +her towards me, but my hands refused their office. I felt I know not what +charm she possessed to calm my throbbing brain and burning heart; but as I +turned from the gloom and darkness around to gaze upon her fair brow and +unmoved features, I felt like the prisoner who turns from the cheerless +desolation of his cell, and looks upon the fair world and the smiling +valleys lying sunlit and shadowed before him. +</p> +<p> +Sleep at length came over me; and when I awoke, the day seemed breaking, +for a faint gray tint stole through a stained-glass window, and fell in +many colored patches upon the pavement. A low muttering sound attracted +me; I listened, it was Mike’s voice. With difficulty raising myself upon +one arm, I endeavored to see more around me. Scarcely had I assumed this +position, when my eyes once more fell upon the white-clad figure of the +preceding night. At her feet knelt Mike, his hands clasped, and his head +bowed upon his bosom. Shall I confess my surprise, my disappointment! It +was no other than an image of the blessed Virgin, decked out in all the +gorgeous splendor which Catholic piety bestows upon her saints. The +features, which the imperfect light and my more imperfect faculties had +endowed with an expression of calm, angelic beauty, were, to my waking +senses, but the cold and barren mockery of loveliness; the eyes, which my +excited brain gifted with looks of tenderness and pity, stared with no +speculation in them; yet contrasting my feelings of the night before, full +as they were of, their deceptions, with my now waking thoughts, I longed +once more for that delusion which threw a dreamy pleasure over me, and +subdued the stormy passions of my soul into rest and repose. +</p> +<p> +“Who knows,” thought I, “but he who kneels yonder feels now as I did then? +Who can tell how little the cold, unmeaning reality before him resembles +the spiritualized creation the fervor of his love and the ardor of his +devotion may have placed upon that altar? Who can limit or bound the depth +of that adoration for an object whose attributes appeal not only to every +sentiment of the heart, but also to every sense of the brain? I fancy that +I can picture to myself how these tinselled relics, these tasteless +waxworks, changed by the magic of devotion and of dread, become to the +humble worshipper images of loveliness and beauty. The dim religious +light; the reverberating footsteps echoed along those solemn aisles; the +vaulted arches, into whose misty heights the sacred incense floats upward, +while the deep organ is pealing its notes of praise or prayer,—these +are no slight accessories to all the pomp and grandeur of a church whose +forms and ceremonial, unchanged for ages and hallowed by a thousand +associations, appeal to the mind of the humblest peasant or the proudest +noble by all the weaknesses as by all the more favored features of our +nature.” +</p> +<p> +How long I might have continued to meditate in this strain I know not, +when a muttered observation from Mike turned the whole current of my +thoughts. His devotion over, he had seated himself upon the steps of the +altar, and appeared to be resolving some doubts within himself concerning +his late pious duties. +</p> +<p> +“Masses is dearer here than in Galway. Father Rush would be well pleased +at two-and-sixpence for what I paid three doubloons for, this morning. And +sure it’s droll enough. How expensive an amusement it is to kill the +French! Here’s half a dollar I gave for the soul of a cuirassier that I +kilt yesterday, and nearly twice as much for an artilleryman I cut down at +the guns; and because the villain swore like a heythen, Father Pedro told +me he’d cost more nor if he died like a decent man.” +</p> +<p> +At these words he turned suddenly round towards the Virgin, and crossing +himself devoutly, added,— +</p> +<p> +And sure it’s yourself knows if it’s fair to make me pay for devils that +don’t know their duties; and after all, if you don’t understand English +nor Irish, I’ve been wasting my time here this two hours.” +</p> +<p> +“I say, Mike, how’s my friend the major! How’s Major O’Shaughnessy?” +</p> +<p> +“Charmingly, sir. It was only loss of blood that ailed him. A thief with a +pike—one of the chaps they call Poles, bekase of the long sticks +they carry with them—stuck the major in the ribs; but Doctor Quill—God +reward him! he’s a great doctor and a funny divil too—he cured him +in no time.” +</p> +<p> +“And where is he now, Mike?” +</p> +<p> +“Just convanient, in a small chapel off the sacristy; and throuble enough +we have to keep him quiet. He gave up the <i>con</i>fusion of roses, and +took to punch; and faith, it isn’t hymns nor paslams [psalms] he’s singing +all night. And they had me there, mixing materials and singing songs, till +I heard the bell for matins; and what between the punch and the prayers, I +never closed my eyes.” +</p> +<p> +“What do they call this convent?” +</p> +<p> +“It is a hard word, I misremember. It’s something like saltpetre. But +how’s your honor? It’s time to ask.” +</p> +<p> +“Much better, Mike, much better. But as I see that either your drink or +your devotion seems to have affected your nerves, you’d better lie down +for an hour or two. I shall not want you.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s just what I can’t; for you see I’m making a song for this evening. +The Rangers has a little supper, and I’m to be there; and though I’ve made +one, I’m not sure it’ll do. May be your honor would give me your opinion +about it?” +</p> +<p> +“With all my heart, Mike; let’s hear it.” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, is it here, before the Virgin and the two blessed saints that’s up +there in the glass cases? But sure, when they make an hospital of the +place, and after the major’s songs last night—” +</p> +<p> +“Exactly so, Mike; out with it.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Ma’am,” said he, turning towards the Virgin, “as I suspect you +don’t know English, may be you’ll think it’s my offices I’m singing. So, +saving your favor, here it is.” +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +MR. FREE’S SONG. + +AIR,—“<i>Arrah, Catty, now can’t you be asy?</i>” + +Oh, what stories I’ll tell when my sodgering’s o’er, +And the gallant Fourteenth is disbanded; +Not a drill nor parade will I hear of no more, +When safely in Ireland landed. +With the blood that I spilt, the Frenchmen I kilt, +I’ll drive the young girls half crazy; +And some cute one will cry, with a wink of her eye, +“Mister Free, now <i>why can’t you be asy?</i>” + +I’ll tell how we routed the squadrons in fight, +And destroyed them all at “Talavera,” +And then I’ll just add how we finished the night, +In learning to dance the “bolera;” +How by the moonshine we drank raal wine, +And rose next day fresh as a daisy; +Then some one will cry, with a look mighty sly, +“Arrah, Mickey, <i>now can’t you lie asy?</i>” + +I’ll tell how the nights with Sir Arthur we spent, +Around a big fire in the air too, +Or may be enjoying ourselves in a tent, +Exactly like Donnybrook fair too. +How he’d call out to me: “Pass the wine, Mr. Free, +For you’re a man never is lazy!” +Then some one will cry, with a wink of her eye, +“Arrah, Mickey, dear, <i>can’t you be asy?</i>” + +I’ll tell, too, the long years in fighting we passed, +Till Mounseer asked Bony to lead him; +And Sir Arthur, grown tired of glory at last, +Begged of one Mickey Free to succeed him. +“But, acushla,” says I, “the truth is I’m shy! +There’s a lady in Ballymacrazy! +And I swore on the book—” He gave me a look, +And cried: “Mickey, <i>now can’t you be asy?</i>” +</pre> +<p> +“Arrah, Mickey, now can’t you be <i>asy?</i>” sang out a voice in chorus, +and the next moment Dr. Quill himself made his appearance. +</p> +<p> +“Well, O’Malley, is it a penitential psalm you’re singing, or is my friend +Mike endeavoring to raise your spirits with a Galway sonata?” +</p> +<p> +“A little bit of his own muse, Doctor, nothing more; but tell me, how goes +it with the major,—is the poor fellow out of danger?” +</p> +<p> +“Except from the excess of his appetite, I know of no risk he runs. His +servant is making gruel for him all day in a thing like the grog-tub of a +frigate. But you’ve heard the news,—Sparks has been exchanged. He +came here last night; but the moment he caught sight of me, he took his +departure. Begad, I’m sure he’d rather pass a month in Verdun than a week +in my company!” +</p> +<p> +“By-the-bye, Doctor, you never told me how this same antipathy of Sparks +for you had its origin.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure I drove him out of the Tenth before he was three weeks with the +regiment.” +</p> +<p> +“Ay, I remember; you began the story for me one night on the retreat from +the Coa, but something broke it off in the middle.” +</p> +<p> +“Just so, I was sent for to the rear to take off some gentleman’s legs +that weren’t in dancing condition; but as there’s no fear of interruption +now, I’ll finish the story. But first, let us have a peep at the wounded. +What beautiful anatomists they are in the French artillery! Do you feel +the thing I have now in my forceps? There,—don’t jump,—that’s +a bit of the brachial nerve most beautifully displayed. Faith, I think +I’ll give Mike a demonstration.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mister Quill, dear! Oh, Doctor, darling!” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, Mickey, now can’t ye be asy?” sang out Maurice, with a perfect +imitation of Mike’s voice and manner. +</p> +<p> +“A little lint here! Bend your arm,—that’s it—Don’t move your +fingers. Now, Mickey, make me a cup of coffee with a glass of brandy in +it. And now, Charley, for Sparks. I believe I told you what kind of +fellows the Tenth were,—regular out-and-outers. We hadn’t three men +in the regiment that were not from the south of Ireland,—the <i>bocca +Corkana</i> on their lips, fun and devilment in their eyes, and more +drollery and humbug in their hearts than in all the messes in the service +put together. No man had any chance among them if he wasn’t a real droll +one; every man wrote his own songs and sang them too. It was no small +promotion could tempt a fellow to exchange out of the corps. You may +think, then, what a prize your friend Sparks proved to us; we held a +court-martial upon him the week after he joined. It was proved in evidence +that he had never said a good thing in his life, and had about as much +notion of a joke as a Cherokee has of the Court of Chancery; and as to +singing, Lord bless you, he had a tune with wooden turns to it,—it +was most cruel to hear; and then the look of him, those eyes, like +dropsical oysters, and the hair standing every way, like a field of insane +flax, and the mouth with a curl in it like the slit in the side of a +fiddle. A pleasant fellow that for a mess that always boasted the +best-looking chaps in the service. +</p> +<p> +“‘What’s to be done with him?’ said the major; ‘shall we tell him we are +ordered to India, and terrify him about his liver?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Or drill him into a hectic fever?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Or drink him dry?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Or get him into a fight and wing him?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, no,’ said I, ‘leave him to me; we’ll laugh him out of the corps.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, we’ll leave him to you, Maurice,’ said the rest. +</p> +<p> +“And that day week you might read in the ‘Gazette,’ ‘Pierce Flynn +O’Haygerty, to be Ensign, 10th Foot, <i>vice</i> Sparks, exchanged.’” +</p> +<p> +“But how was it done, Maurice; you haven’t told me that.” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing easier. I affected great intimacy with Sparks, bemoaned our hard +fate, mutually, in being attached to such a regiment: ‘A damnable corps +this,—low, vulgar fellows, practical jokes; not the kind of thing +one expects in the army. But as for me, I’ve joined it partly from +necessity. You, however, who might be in a crack regiment, I can’t +conceive your remaining in it.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘But why did you join, Doctor?’ said he; ‘what necessity could have +induced you?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah, my friend,’ said I, ‘<i>that</i> is the secret,—<i>that</i> is +the hidden grief that must lie buried in my own bosom.’ +</p> +<p> +“I saw that his curiosity was excited, and took every means to increase it +farther. At length, as if yielding to a sudden impulse of friendship, and +having sworn him to secrecy, I took him aside, and began thus,— +</p> +<p> +“‘I may trust you, Sparks, I feel I may; and when I tell you that my +honor, my reputation, my whole fortune is at stake, you will judge of the +importance of the trust.’ +</p> +<p> +“The goggle eyes rolled fearfully, and his features exhibited the most +craving anxiety to hear my story. +</p> +<p> +“‘You wish to know why I left the Fifty-sixth. Now I’ll tell you; but +mind, you’re pledged, you’re sworn, never to divulge it.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Honor bright.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘There, that’s enough; I’m satisfied. It was a slight infraction of the +articles of war; a little breach of the rules and regulations of the +service; a trifling misconception of the mess code,—they caught me +one evening leaving the mess with—What do you think in my pocket? +But you’ll never tell! No, no, I know you’ll not; eight forks and a +gravy-spoon,—silver forks every one of them. There now,’ said I, +grasping his hand, ‘you have my secret; my fame and character are in your +hands, for you see they made me quit the regiment,—a man can’t stay +in a corps where he is laughed at.’ +</p> +<p> +“Covering my face with my handkerchief, as if to conceal my shame, I +turned away, and left Sparks to his meditations. That same evening we +happened to have some strangers at mess; the bottle was passing freely +round, and as usual the good spirits of the party at the top of their +bent, when suddenly from the lower end of the table, a voice was heard +demanding, in tones of the most pompous importance, permission to address +the president upon a topic where the honor of the whole regiment was +concerned. +</p> +<p> +“‘I rise, gentlemen,’ said Mr. Sparks, ‘with feelings the most painful; +whatever may have been the laxity of habit and freedom of conversation +habitual in this regiment, I never believed that so flagrant an instance +as this morning came to my ears—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, murder!’ said I. ‘Oh, Sparks, darling, sure you’re not going to +tell?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Doctor Quill,’ replied he, in an austere tone, ‘it is impossible for me +to conceal it.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, Sparks, dear, will you betray me?’ +</p> +<p> +“I gave him here a look of the most imploring entreaty, to which he +replied by one of unflinching sternness. +</p> +<p> +“‘I have made up my mind, sir,’ continued he; ‘it is possible the officers +of this corps may look more leniently than I do upon this transaction; but +know it they shall.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Out with it, Sparks; tell it by all means!’ cried a number of voices; +for it was clear to every one, by this time, that he was involved in a +hoax. +</p> +<p> +“Amidst, therefore, a confused volley of entreaty on one side, and my +reiterated prayers for his silence, on the other, Sparks thus began:— +</p> +<p> +“‘Are you aware, gentlemen, why Dr. Quill left the Fifty-sixth?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘No, no, no!’ rang from all sides; ‘let’s have it!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘No, sir,’ said he, turning towards me, ‘concealment is impossible; an +officer detected with the mess-plate in his pocket—’ +</p> +<p> +“They never let him finish, for a roar of laughter shook the table from +one end to the other; while Sparks, horror-struck at the lack of feeling +and propriety that could make men treat such a matter with ridicule, +glared around him on every side. +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, Maurice, Maurice!’ cried the major, wiping his eyes, ‘this is too +bad; this is too bad!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Gracious Heaven!’ screamed Sparks, ‘can you laugh at it?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Laugh at it!’ re-echoed the paymaster, ‘God grant I only don’t burst a +blood-vessel!’ And once more the sounds of merriment rang out anew, and +lasted for several minutes. +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, Maurice Quill,’ cried an old captain, ‘you’ve been too heavy on the +lad. Why, Sparks, man, he’s been humbugging you.’ +</p> +<p> +“Scarcely were the words spoken when he sprang from the room. The whole +truth flashed at once upon his mind; in an instant he saw that he had +exposed himself to the merciless ridicule of a mess-table and that all +peace for him, in that regiment at least, was over. +</p> +<p> +“We got a glorious fellow in exchange for him; and Sparks descended into a +cavalry regiment,—I ask your pardon, Charley,—where, as you +are well aware, sharp wit and quick intellect are by no means +indispensable. There now, don’t be angry or you’ll do yourself harm. So +good-by, for an hour or two.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIII. +</h2> +<p> +THE COUNT’S LETTER. +</p> +<p> +O’Shaughnessy’s wound, like my own, was happily only formidable from the +loss of blood. The sabre or the lance are rarely, indeed, so death-dealing +as the musket or the bayonet; and the murderous fire from a square of +infantry is far more terrific in its consequences than the heaviest charge +of a cavalry column. In a few weeks, therefore, we were once more about +and fit for duty; but for the present the campaign was ended. The rainy +season with its attendant train of sickness and sorrow set in. The troops +were cantoned along the line of the frontier,—the infantry occupying +the villages, and the cavalry being stationed wherever forage could be +obtained. +</p> +<p> +The Fourteenth were posted at Avintas, but I saw little of them. I was +continually employed upon the staff; and as General Crawfurd’s activity +suffered no diminution from the interruption of the campaign, rarely +passed a day without eight or nine hours on horseback. +</p> +<p> +The preparations for the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo occupied our undivided +attention. To the reduction of this fortress and of Badajos, Lord +Wellington looked as the most important objects, and prosecuted his plans +with unremitting zeal. To my staff appointment I owed the opportunity of +witnessing that stupendous feature of war, a siege; and as many of my +friends formed part of the blockading force, I spent more than one night +in the trenches. Indeed, except for this, the tiresome monotony of life +was most irksome at this period. Day after day the incessant rain poured +down. The supplies were bad, scanty, and irregular; the hospitals crowded +with sick; field-sports impracticable; books there were none; and a +dulness and spiritless depression prevailed on every side. Those who were +actively engaged around Ciudad Rodrigo had, of course, the excitement and +interest which the enterprise involved: but even there the works made slow +progress. The breaching artillery was defective in every way: the rain +undermined the faces of the bastions; the clayey soil sank beneath the +weight of the heavy guns; and the storms of one night frequently destroyed +more than a whole week’s labor had effected. +</p> +<p> +Thus passed the dreary months along; the cheeriest and gayest among us +broken in spirit, and subdued in heart by the tedium of our life. The very +news which reached us partook of the gloomy features of our prospects. We +heard only of strong reinforcements marching to the support of the French +in Estramadura. We were told that the Emperor, whose successes in Germany +enabled him to turn his entire attention to the Spanish campaign, would +himself be present in the coming spring, with overwhelming odds and a firm +determination to drive us from the Peninsula. +</p> +<p> +In that frame of mind which such gloomy and depressing prospects are well +calculated to suggest, I was returning one night to my quarters at Mucia, +when suddenly I beheld Mike galloping towards me with a large packet in +his hand, which he held aloft to catch my attention. “Letters from +England, sir,” said he, “just arrived with the general’s despatches.” I +broke the envelope at once, which bore the war-office seal, and as I did +so, a perfect avalanche of letters fell at my feet. The first which caught +my eye was an official intimation from the Horse Guards that the Prince +Regent had been graciously pleased to confirm my promotion to the troop, +my commission to bear date from the appointment, etc., etc. I could not +help feeling struck, as my eye ran rapidly across the lines, that although +the letter came from Sir George Dashwood’s office, it contained not a word +of congratulation nor remembrance on his part, but was couched in the +usual cold and formal language of an official document. Impatient, +however, to look over my other letters, I thought but little of this; so, +throwing them hurriedly into my sabretasche, I cantered on to my quarters +without delay. Once more alone in silence, I sat down to commune with my +far-off friends, and yet with all my anxiety to hear of home, passed +several minutes in turning over the letters, guessing from whom they might +have come, and picturing to myself their probable contents. “Ah, Frank +Webber, I recognize your slap-dash, bold hand without the aid of the +initials in the corner; and this—what can this be?—this queer, +misshapen thing, representing nothing save the forty-seventh proposition +of Euclid, and the address seemingly put on with a cat’s-tail dipped in +lampblack? Yes, true enough, it is from Mister Free himself. And what have +we here? This queer, quaint hand is no new acquaintance; how many a time +have I looked upon it as the <i>ne plus ultra</i> of caligraphy! But here +is one I’m not so sure of. Who could have written this bolt-upright, +old-fashioned superscription, not a letter of which seems on speaking +terms with its neighbor? The very O absolutely turns its back upon the M +in O’Malley, and the final Y wags his tail with a kind of independent +shake, as if he did not care a curse for his predecessors! And the seal, +too,—surely I know that griffin’s head, and that stern motto, <i>Non +rogo sed capio</i>. To be sure, it is Billy Considine’s, the count +himself. The very paper, yellow and time-stained, looks coeval with his +youth; and I could even venture to wager that his sturdy pen was nibbed +half a century since. I’ll not look farther among this confused mass of +three-cornered billets, and long, treacherous-looking epistles, the very +folding of which denote the dun. Here goes for the count!” So saying to +myself, I drew closer to the fire, and began the following epistle:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +O’MALLEY CASTLE, November 3. + +Dear Charley,—Here we sit in the little parlor with your last +letter, the “Times,” and a big map before us, drinking your health, +and wishing you a long career of the same glorious success you have +hitherto enjoyed. Old as I am—eighty-two or eighty-three (I forget +which) in June—I envy you with all my heart. Luck has stood +to you, my boy; and if a French sabre or a bayonet finish you now, +you’ve at least had a splendid burst of it. I was right in my opinion +of you, and Godfrey himself owns it now,—a lawyer, indeed! Bad +luck to them! we’ve had enough of lawyers. There’s old Hennesy,—honest +Jack, as they used to call him,—that your uncle trusted +for the last forty years, has raised eighteen thousand pounds on the +title-deeds, and gone off to America. The old scoundrel! But it’s +no use talking; the blow is a sore one to Godfrey, and the gout +more troublesome than ever. Drumgold is making a motion in +Chancery about it, to break the sale, and the tenants are in open +rebellion and swear they’ll murther a receiver, if one is sent down +among them. Indeed, they came in such force into Galway during +the assizes, and did so much mischief, that the cases for trial were +adjourned, and the judges left with a military escort to protect them. +This, of course, is gratifying to our feelings; for, thank Providence, +there is some good in the world yet. Kilmurry was sold last week +for twelve thousand. Andy Blake would foreclose the mortgage, +although we offered him every kind of satisfaction. This has done +Godfrey a deal of harm; and some pitiful economy—taking only +two bottles of claret after his dinner—has driven the gout to his +head. They’ve been telling him he’d lengthen his days by this, and +I tried it myself, and, faith, it was the longest day I ever spent in +my life. I hope and trust you take your liquor like a gentleman and +an Irish gentleman. + +Kinshela, we hear, has issued an execution against the house and +furniture; but the attempt to sell the demesne nearly killed your +uncle. It was advertised in a London paper, and an offer made for it +by an old general whom you may remember when down here. Indeed, +if I mistake not, he was rather kind to you in the beginning. It +would appear he did not wish to have his name known, but we found +him out, and such a letter as we sent him! It’s little liking he’ll +have to buy a Galway gentleman’s estate over his head, that same Sir +George Dashwood! Godfrey offered to meet him anywhere he +pleased, and if the doctor thought he could bear the sea voyage, +he’d even go over to Holyhead; but the sneaking fellow sent an +apologetic kind of a letter, with some humbug excuse about very +different motives, etc. But we’ve done with him, and I think he +with us. +</pre> +<p> +When I had read thus far, I laid down the letter, unable to go on; the +accumulated misfortunes of one I loved best in the world, following so +fast one upon another, the insult—unprovoked, gratuitous insult—to +him upon whom my hopes of future happiness so much depended, completely +overwhelmed me. I tried to continue. Alas, the catalogue of evils went on; +each line bore testimony to some farther wreck of fortune, some clearer +evidence of a ruined house. +</p> +<p> +All that my gloomiest and darkest forebodings had pictured was come to +pass; sickness, poverty, harassing unfeeling creditors, treachery, and +ingratitude were goading to madness and despair a spirit whose kindliness +of nature was unequalled. The shock of blasted fortunes was falling upon +the dying heart; the convictions which a long life had never brought home—that +men were false and their words a lie—were stealing over the man upon +the brink of the grave; and he who had loved his neighbor like a brother +was to be taught, at the eleventh hour, that the beings he trusted were +perjured and forsworn. +</p> +<p> +A more unsuitable adviser than Considine, in difficulties like these, +there could not be; his very contempt for all the forms of law and justice +was sufficient to embroil my poor uncle still farther; so that I resolved +at once to apply for leave, and if refused, and no other alternative +offered, to leave the service. It was not without a sense of sorrow +bordering on despair, that I came to this determination. My soldier’s life +had become a passion with me. I loved it for its bold and chivalrous +enthusiasm, its hour of battle and strife, its days of endurance and +hardship, its trials, its triumphs; its very reverses were endeared by +those they were shared with; and the spirit of adventure and the love of +danger—that most exciting of all gambling—had now entwined +themselves in my very nature. To surrender all these at once, and to +exchange the daily, hourly enthusiasm of a campaign for the prospects now +before me, was almost maddening. But still a sustaining sense of duty of +what I owed to him, who, in his love, had sacrificed all for me, +overpowered every other consideration. My mind was made up. +</p> +<p> +Father Rush’s letter was little more than a recapitulation of the count’s. +Debt, distress, sickness, and the heart-burnings of altered fortunes +filled it; and when I closed it, I felt like one over all whose views in +life a dark and ill-omened cloud was closing forever. Webber’s I could not +read; the light and cheerful raillery of a friend would have seemed, at +such a time, like the cold, unfeeling sarcasm of an enemy. I sat down at +last to write to the general, enclosing my application for leave, and +begging of him to forward it, with a favorable recommendation, to +headquarters. +</p> +<p> +This done, I lay down upon my bed, and overcome by fatigue and fretting, +fell asleep to dream of my home and those I had left there; which, +strangely too, were presented to my mind with all the happy features that +made them so dear to my infancy. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIV. +</h2> +<p> +THE TRENCHES. +</p> +<p> +“I have not had time, O’Malley, to think of your application,” said +Crawfurd, “nor is it likely I can for a day or two. Read that.” So saying, +he pushed towards me a note, written, in pencil, which ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +CIUDAD RODRIGO, December 18. + +Dear C.,—Fletcher tells me that the breaches will be practicable +by to-morrow evening, and I think so myself. Come over, then, at +once, for we shall not lose any time. + +Yours, W. +</pre> +<p> +“I have some despatches for your regiment, but if you prefer coming along +with me—” +</p> +<p> +“My dear General, dare I ask for such a favor?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, come along; only remember that, although my division will be +engaged, I cannot promise you anything to do. So now, get your horses +ready; let’s away.” +</p> +<p> +It was in the afternoon of the following day that we rode into the large +plain before Ciudad Rodrigo, and in which the allied armies were now +assembled to the number of twelve thousand men. The loud booming of the +siege artillery had been heard by me for some hours before; but +notwithstanding this prelude and my own high-wrought expectations, I was +far from anticipating the magnificent spectacle which burst upon my +astonished view. The air was calm and still; a clear, blue, wintry sky +stretched overhead, but below, the dense blue smoke of the deafening guns +rolled in mighty volumes along the earth, and entirely concealed the lower +part of the fortress; above this the tall towers and battlemented parapets +rose into the thin, transparent sky like fairy palaces. A bright flash of +flame would now and then burst forth from the walls, and a clanging crash +of the brass metal be heard; but the unceasing roll of our artillery +nearly drowned all other sounds, save when a loud cheer would burst from +the trenches, while the clattering fall of masonry, and the crumbling +stones as they rolled down, bespoke the reason of the cry. The utmost +activity prevailed on all sides; troops pressed forward to the reliefs in +the parallels; ammunition wagons moved to the front; general and staff +officers rode furiously about the plain; and all betokened that the hour +of attack was no longer far distant. +</p> +<p> +While all parties were anxiously awaiting the decision of our chief, the +general order was made known, which, after briefly detailing the necessary +arrangements, concluded with the emphatic words, “Ciudad Rodrigo <i>must</i> +be stormed to-night.” All speculation as to the troops to be engaged in +this daring enterprise was soon at an end; for with his characteristic +sense of duty, Lord Wellington made no invidious selection, but merely +commanded that the attack should be made by whatever divisions might +chance to be that day in the trenches. Upon the Third and Light Divisions, +therefore, this glorious task devolved. The former was to attack the main +breach; to Crawfurd’s Division was assigned the, if possible, more +difficult enterprise of carrying the lesser one; while Pack’s Portuguese +Brigade were to menace the convent of La Caridad by a feint attack, to be +converted into a real one, if circumstances should permit. +</p> +<p> +The decision, however matured and comprehensive in all its details, was +finally adopted so suddenly that every staff officer upon the ground was +actively engaged during the entire evening in conveying the orders to the +different regiments. As the day drew to a close, the cannonade slackened +on either side, a solitary gun would be heard at intervals, and in the +calm stillness around, its booming thunder re-echoed along the valleys of +the Sierra; but as the moon rose and night set in, these were no longer +heard, and a perfect stillness and tranquillity prevailed around. Even in +the trenches, crowded with armed and anxious soldiers, not a whisper was +heard; and amidst that mighty host which filled the plain, the tramp of a +patrol could be distinctly noted, and the hoarse voice of the French +sentry upon the walls, telling that all was well in Ciudad Rodrigo. +</p> +<p> +The massive fortress, looming larger as its dark shadow stood out from the +sky, was still as the grave; while in the greater breach a faint light was +seen to twinkle for a moment, and then suddenly to disappear, leaving all +gloomy and dark as before. +</p> +<p> +Having been sent with orders to the Third Division, of which the +Eighty-eighth formed a part, I took the opportunity of finding out +O’Shaughnessy, who was himself to lead an escalade party in M’Kinnon’s +Brigade. He sprang towards me as I came forward, and grasping my hand with +a more than usual earnestness, called out, “The very man I wanted! +Charley, my boy, do us a service now!” +</p> +<p> +Before I could reply, he continued in a lower tone, “A young fellow of +ours, Harry Beauclerc, has been badly wounded in the trenches; but by some +blunder, his injury is reported as a slight one, and although the poor +fellow can scarcely stand, he insists upon going with the stormers.” +</p> +<p> +“Come here, Major, come here!” cried a voice at a little distance. +</p> +<p> +“Follow me, O’Malley,” cried O’Shaughnessy, moving in the direction of the +speaker. +</p> +<p> +By the light of a lantern we could descry two officers kneeling upon the +ground; between them on the grass lay the figure of a third, upon whose +features, as the pale light fell, the hand of death seemed rapidly +stealing. A slight froth, tinged with blood, rested on his lip, and the +florid blood which stained the buff facing of his uniform indicated that +his wound was through the lungs. +</p> +<p> +“He has fainted,” said one of the officers, in a low tone. +</p> +<p> +“Are you certain it is fainting?” said the other, in a still lower. +</p> +<p> +“You see how it is, Charley,” said O’Shaughnessy; “this poor boy must be +carried to the rear. Will you then, like a kind fellow, hasten back to +Colonel Campbell and mention the fact. It will kill Beauclerc should any +doubt rest upon his conduct, if he ever recover this.” +</p> +<p> +While he spoke, four soldiers of the regiment placed the wounded officer +in a blanket. A long sigh escaped him, and he muttered a few broken words. +</p> +<p> +“Poor fellow, it’s his mother he’s talking of! He only joined a month +since, and is a mere boy. Come, O’Malley, lose no time. By Jove! it is too +late; there goes the first rocket for the columns to form. In ten minutes +more the stormers must fall in.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter, Giles?” said he to one of the officers, who had +stopped the soldiers as they were moving off with their burden,—“what +is it?” +</p> +<p> +“I have been cutting the white tape off his arm; for if he sees it on +waking, he’ll remember all about the storming.” +</p> +<p> +“Quite right—thoughtfully done!” said the other; “but who is to lead +his fellows? He was in the forlorn hope.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll do it,” cried I, with eagerness. “Come, O’Shaughnessy, you’ll not +refuse me.” +</p> +<p> +“Refuse you, boy!” said he, grasping my hand within both of his, “never! +But you must change your coat. The gallant Eighty-eighth will never +mistake their countryman’s voice. But your uniform would be devilish +likely to get you a bayonet through it; so come back with me, and we’ll +make you a Ranger in no time.” +</p> +<p> +“I can give your friend a cap.” +</p> +<p> +“And I,” said the other, “a brandy flask, which, after all, is not the +worst part of a storming equipage.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope,” said O’Shaughnessy, “they may find Maurice in the rear. +Beauclerc’s all safe in his hands.” +</p> +<p> +“That they’ll not,” said Giles, “you may swear. Quill is this moment in +the trenches, and will not be the last man at the breach.” +</p> +<p> +“Follow me now, lads,” said O’Shaughnessy, in a low voice. “Our fellows +are at the angle of this trench. Who the deuce can that be, talking so +loud?” +</p> +<p> +“It must be Maurice,” said Giles. +</p> +<p> +The question was soon decided by the doctor himself, who appeared giving +directions to his hospital-sergeant. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Peter, take the tools up to a convenient spot near the breach. +There’s many a snug corner there in the ruins; and although we mayn’t have +as good an operation-room as in old ‘Steevens’s,’ yet we’ll beat them +hollow in cases.” +</p> +<p> +“Listen to the fellow,” said Giles, with a shudder. “The thought of his +confounded thumbscrews and tourniquets is worse to me than a French +howitzer.” +</p> +<p> +“The devil a kinder-hearted fellow than Maurice,” said O’Shaughnessy, “for +all that; and if his heart was to be known this moment, he’d rather handle +a sword than a saw.” +</p> +<p> +“True for you, Dennis,” said Quill, overhearing him, “but we are both +useful in our way, as the hangman said to Lord Clare.” +</p> +<p> +“But should you not be in the rear, Maurice?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“You are right, O’Malley,” said he, in a whisper; “but, you see, I owe the +Cork Insurance Company a spite for making me pay a gout premium, and +that’s the reason I’m here. I warned them at the time that their +stinginess would come to no good.” +</p> +<p> +“I say, Captain O’Malley,” said Giles, “I find I can’t be as good as my +word with you; my servant has moved to the rear with all my traps.” +</p> +<p> +“What is to be done?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Is it shaving utensils you want?” said Maurice. “Would a scalpel serve +your turn?” +</p> +<p> +“No, Doctor, I’m going to take a turn of duty with your fellows to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“In the breach, with the stormers?” +</p> +<p> +“With the forlorn hope,” said O’Shaughnessy. “Beauclerc is so badly +wounded that we’ve sent him back; and Charley, like a good fellow, has +taken his place.” +</p> +<p> +“Martin told me,” said Maurice, “that Beauclerc was only stunned; but, +upon my conscience, the hospital-mates, now-a-days, are no better than the +watchmakers; they can’t tell what’s wrong with the instrument till they +pick it to pieces. Whiz! there goes a blue light.” +</p> +<p> +“Move on, move on,” whispered O’Shaughnessy; “they’re telling off the +stormers. That rocket is the order to fall in.” +</p> +<p> +“But what am I to do for a coat?” +</p> +<p> +“Take mine, my boy,” said Maurice, throwing off an upper garment of coarse +gray frieze as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +“There’s a neat bit of uniform,” continued he, turning himself round for +our admiration; “don’t I look mighty like the pictures of George the First +at the battle of Dettingen!” +</p> +<p> +A burst of approving laughter was our only answer to this speech, while +Maurice proceeded to denude himself of his most extraordinary garment. +</p> +<p> +“What, in the name of Heaven, is it?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t despise it, Charley; it knows the smell of gunpowder as well as any +bit of scarlet in the service;” while he added, in a whisper, “it’s the +ould Roscommon Yeomanry. My uncle commanded them in the year ‘42, and this +was his coat. I don’t mean to say that it was new then; for you see it’s a +kind of heirloom in the Quill family, and it’s not every one I’d be giving +it to.” +</p> +<p> +“A thousand thanks, Maurice,” said I, as I buttoned it on, amidst an +ill-suppressed titter of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“It fits you like a sentry-box,” said Maurice, as he surveyed me with a +lantern. “The skirts separate behind in the most picturesque manner; and +when you button the collar, it will keep your head up so high that the +devil a bit you’ll see except the blessed moon. It’s a thousand pities you +haven’t the three-cocked hat with the feather trimming. If you wouldn’t +frighten the French, my name’s not Maurice. Turn about here till I admire +you. If you only saw yourself in a glass, you’d never join the dragoons +again. And look now, don’t be exposing yourself, for I wouldn’t have those +blue facings destroyed for a week’s pay.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, then, it’s yourself is the darling, Doctor, dear!” said a voice +behind me. I turned round; it was Mickey Free, who was standing with a +most profound admiration of Maurice beaming in every feature of his face. +“It’s yourself has a joke for every hour o’ the day.” +</p> +<p> +“Get to the rear, Mike, get to the rear with the cattle; this is no place +for you or them.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-night, Mickey,” said Maurice. +</p> +<p> +“Good-night, your honor,” muttered Mike to himself; “may I never die till +you set a leg for me.” +</p> +<p> +“Are you dressed for the ball?” said Maurice, fastening the white tape +upon my arm. “There now, my boy, move on, for I think I hear Picton’s +voice; not that it signifies now, for he’s always in a heavenly temper +when any one’s going to be killed. I’m sure he’d behave like an angel, if +he only knew the ground was mined under his feet.” +</p> +<p> +“Charley, Charley!” called out O’Shaughnessy, in a suppressed voice, “come +up quickly!” +</p> +<p> +“No. 24, John Forbes—here! Edward Gillespie—here!” +</p> +<p> +“Who leads this party, Major O’Shaughnessy?” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Beauclerc, sir,” replied O’Shaughnessy, pushing me forward by the arm +while he spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Keep your people together, sir; spare the powder, and trust to your cold +iron.” He grasped my hand within his iron grip, and rode on. +</p> +<p> +“Who was it, Dennis?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you know him, Charley? That was Picton.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXV. +</h2> +<p> +THE STORMING OF CIUDAD RODRIGO. +</p> +<p> +Whatever the levity of the previous moment, the scene before us now +repressed it effectually. The deep-toned bell of the cathedral tolled +seven, and scarcely were its notes dying away in the distance, when the +march of the columns was heard stealing along the ground. A low murmuring +whisper ran along the advanced files of the forlorn hope; stocks were +loosened; packs and knapsacks thrown to the ground; each man pressed his +cap more firmly down upon his brow, and with lip compressed and steadfast +eye, waited for the word to move. +</p> +<p> +It came at last: the word “March!” passed in whispers from rank to rank, +and the dark mass moved on. What a moment was that as we advanced to the +foot of the breach! The consciousness that at the same instant, from +different points of that vast plain, similar parties were moving on; the +feeling that at a word the flame of the artillery and the flash of steel +would spring from that dense cloud, and death and carnage, in every shape +our imagination can conceive, be dealt on all sides; the hurried, fitful +thought of home; the years long past compressed into one minute’s space; +the last adieu of all we’ve loved, mingling with the muttered prayer to +Heaven, while, high above all, the deep pervading sense that earth has no +temptation strong enough to turn us from that path whose ending must be a +sepulchre! +</p> +<p> +Each heart was too full for words. We followed noiselessly along the turf, +the dark figure of our leader guiding us through the gloom. On arriving at +the ditch, the party with the ladders moved to the front. Already some +hay-packs were thrown in, and the forlorn hope sprang forward. +</p> +<p> +All was still and silent as the grave. “Quietly, my men, quietly!” said +M’Kinnon; “don’t press.” Scarcely had he spoken when a musket whose +charge, contrary to orders, had not been drawn, went off. The whizzing +bullet could not have struck the wall, when suddenly a bright flame burst +forth from the ramparts, and shot upward towards the sky. For an instant +the whole scene before us was bright as noonday. On one side, the dark +ranks and glistening bayonets of the enemy; on the other, the red uniform +of the British columns: compressed like some solid wall, they stretched +along the plain. +</p> +<p> +A deafening roll of musketry from the extreme right announced that the +Third Division was already in action, while the loud cry of our leader, as +he sprang into the trench, summoned us to the charge. The leading +sections, not waiting for the ladders, jumped down, others pressing +rapidly behind them, when a loud rumbling thunder crept along the earth, a +hissing, crackling noise followed, and from the dark ditch a forked and +livid lightning burst like the flame from a volcano, and a mine exploded. +Hundreds of shells and grenades scattered along the ground were ignited at +the same moment; the air sparkled with the whizzing fuses, the musketry +plied incessantly from the walls, and every man of the leading company of +the stormers was blown to pieces. While this dreadful catastrophe was +enacting before our eyes, the different assaults were made on all sides; +the whole fortress seemed girt around with fire. From every part arose the +yells of triumph and the shouts of the assailants. As for us, we stood +upon the verge of the ditch, breathless, hesitating, and horror-struck. A +sudden darkness succeeded to the bright glare, but from the midst of the +gloom the agonizing cries of the wounded and the dying rent our very +hearts. +</p> +<p> +“Make way there! make way! here comes Mackie’s party,” cried an officer in +the front, and as he spoke the forlorn hope of the Eighty-eighth came +forward at a run; jumping recklessly into the ditch, they made towards the +breach; the supporting division of the stormers gave one inspiring cheer, +and sprang after them. The rush was tremendous; for scarcely had we +reached the crumbling ruins of the rampart, when the vast column, pressing +on like some mighty torrent, bore down upon our rear. Now commenced a +scene to which nothing I ever before conceived of war could in any degree +compare: the whole ground, covered with combustibles of every deadly and +destructive contrivance, was rent open with a crash; the huge masses of +masonry bounded into the air like things of no weight; the ringing clangor +of the iron howitzers, the crackling of the fuses, the blazing splinters, +the shouts of defiance, the more than savage yell of those in whose ranks +alone the dead and the dying were numbered, made up a mass of sights and +sounds almost maddening with their excitement. On we struggled; the +mutilated bodies of the leading files almost filling the way. +</p> +<p> +By this time the Third Division had joined us, and the crush of our +thickening ranks was dreadful; every moment some well-known leader fell +dead or mortally wounded, and his place was supplied by some gallant +fellow who, springing from the leading files, would scarcely have uttered +his cheer of encouragement, ere he himself was laid low. Many a voice with +whose notes I was familiar, would break upon my ear in tones of heroic +daring, and the next moment burst forth in a death-cry. For above an hour +the frightful carnage continued, fresh troops continually advancing, but +scarcely a foot of ground was made; the earth belched forth its volcanic +fires, and that terrible barrier did no man pass. In turn the bravest and +the boldest would leap into the whizzing flame, and the taunting cheers of +the enemy triumphed in derision at the effort. +</p> +<p> +“Stormers to the front! Only the bayonet! trust to nothing but the +bayonet!” cried a voice whose almost cheerful accents contrasted strangely +with the dead-notes around, and Gurwood, who led the forlorn hope of the +Fifty-second, bounded into the chasm; all the officers sprang +simultaneously after him; the men pressed madly on; a roll of withering +musketry crashed upon them; a furious shout replied to it. The British, +springing over the dead and dying, bounded like blood-hounds on their +prey. Meanwhile the ramparts trembled beneath the tramp of the light +division, who, having forced the lesser breach, came down upon the flank +of the French. The garrison, however, thickened their numbers, and bravely +held their ground. Man to man now was the combat. No cry for quarter, no +supplicating look for mercy; it was the death struggle of vengeance and +despair. At this instant an explosion louder than the loudest thunder +shook the air; the rent and torn up ramparts sprang into the sky; the +conquering and the conquered were alike the victims; for one of the +greatest magazines had been ignited by a shell; the black smoke, streaked +with a lurid flame, hung above the dead and the dying. The artillery and +the murderous musketry were stilled, paralyzed, as it were, by the ruin +and devastation before them. Both sides stood leaning upon their arms; the +pause was but momentary; the cries of wounded comrades called upon their +hearts. A fierce burst of vengeance rent the air; the British closed upon +the foe; for one instant they were met; the next, the bayonets gleamed +upon the ramparts, and Ciudad Rodrigo was won. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVI. +</h2> +<p> +THE RAMPART. +</p> +<p> +While such were the scenes passing around me, of my own part in them, I +absolutely knew nothing; for until the moment that the glancing bayonets +of the light division came rushing on the foe, and the loud, long cheer of +victory burst above us, I felt like one in a trance. Then I leaned against +an angle of the rampart, overpowered and exhausted; a bayonet wound, which +some soldier of our own ranks had given me when mounting the breach, +pained me somewhat; my uniform was actually torn to rags; my head bare; of +my sword, the hilt and four inches of the blade alone remained, while my +left hand firmly grasped the rammer of a cannon, but why or wherefore I +could not even guess. As thus I stood, the unceasing tide of soldiery +pressed on; fresh divisions came pouring in, eager for plunder, and +thirsting for the spoil. The dead and the dying were alike trampled +beneath the feet of that remorseless mass, who, actuated by vengeance and +by rapine, sprang fiercely up the breach. +</p> +<p> +Weak and exhausted, faint from my wound, and overcome by my exertions, I +sank among the crumbling ruin. The loud shouts which rose from the town, +mingled with cries and screams, told the work of pillage was begun; while +still a dropping musketry could be heard on the distant rampart, where +even yet the French made resistance. At last even this was hushed, but to +it succeeded the far more horrifying sounds of rapine and of murder; the +forked flames of burning houses rose here and there amidst the black +darkness of the night; and through the crackling of the timbers, and the +falling crash of roofs, the heart-rending shriek of women rent the very +air. Officers pressed forward, but in vain were their efforts to restrain +their men; the savage cruelty of the moment knew no bounds of restraint. +More than one gallant fellow perished in his fruitless endeavor to enforce +obedience; and the most awful denunciations were now uttered against those +before whom, at any other time, they dared not mutter. +</p> +<p> +Thus passed the long night, far more terrible to me than all the dangers +of the storm itself, with all its death and destruction dealing around it. +I know not if I slept: if so, the horrors on every side were pictured in +my dreams; and when the gray dawn was breaking, the cries from the doomed +city were still ringing in my ears. Close around me the scene was still +and silent; the wounded had been removed during the night, but the +thickly-packed dead lay side by side where they fell. It was a fearful +sight to see them as, blood-stained and naked (for already the +camp-followers had stripped the bodies), they covered the entire breach. +From the rampart to the ditch, the ranks lay where they had stood in life. +A faint phosphoric flame flickered above their ghastly corpses, making +even death still more horrible. I was gazing steadfastly, with all that +stupid intensity which imperfect senses and exhausted faculties possess, +when the sound of voices near aroused me. +</p> +<p> +“Bring him along,—this way, Bob. Over the breach with the scoundrel, +into the fosse.” +</p> +<p> +“He shall die no soldier’s death, by Heaven!” cried another and a deeper +voice, “if I lay his skull open with my axe.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, mercy, mercy! as you hope for—” +</p> +<p> +“Traitor! don’t dare to mutter here!” As the last words were spoken, four +infantry soldiers, reeling from drunkenness, dragged forward a pale and +haggard wretch, whose limbs trailed behind him like those of palsy, his +uniform was that of a French chasseur, but his voice bespoke him English. +</p> +<p> +“Kneel down there, and die like a man! You were one once!” +</p> +<p> +“Not so, Bill, never. Fix bayonets, boys! That’s right! Now take the word +from me.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, forgive me! for the love of Heaven, forgive me!” screamed the voice +of the victim; but his last accents ended in a death-cry, for as he spoke, +the bayonets flashed for an instant in the air, and the next were plunged +into his body. Twice I had essayed to speak, but my voice, hoarse from +shouting, came not; and I could but look upon this terrible murder with +staring eyes and burning brain. At last speech came, as if wrested by the +very excess of my agony, and I muttered aloud, “O God!” The words were not +well-spoken, when the muskets were brought to the shoulders, and reeking +with the blood of the murdered man, their savage faces scowled at me as I +lay. +</p> +<p> +A short and heart-felt prayer burst from my lips, and I was still. The +leader of the party called out, “Be steady, and together. One, two! Ground +arms, boys! Ground arms!” roared he, in a voice of thunder; “it’s the +captain himself!” Down went the muskets with a crash; while, springing +towards me, the fellows caught me in their arms, and with one jerk mounted +me upon their shoulders, the cheer that accompanied the sudden movement +seeming like the yell of maniacs. “Ha, ha, ha! we have him now!” sang +their wild voices, as, with blood-stained hands and infuriated features, +they bore me down the rampart. My sensations of disgust and repugnance to +the party seemed at once to have evidenced themselves, for the corporal, +turning abruptly round, called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Don’t <i>pity</i> him, Captain; the scoundrel was a deserter; he escaped +from the picket two nights ago, and gave information of all our plans to +the enemy.” +</p> +<p> +“Ay,” cried another, “and what’s worse, he fired through an embrasure near +the breach, for two hours, upon his own regiment. It was there we found +him. This way, lads.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, they turned short from the walls, and dashed down a dark and +narrow lane into the town. My struggles to get free were perfectly +ineffectual, and to my entreaties they were totally indifferent. +</p> +<p> +In this way, therefore, we made our entrance into the Plaza, where some +hundred soldiers, of different regiments, were bivouacked. A shout of +recognition welcomed the fellows as they came; while suddenly a party of +Eighty-eighth men, springing from the ground, rushed forward with drawn +bayonets, calling out, “Give him up this minute, or, by the Father of +Moses, we’ll make short work of ye!” +</p> +<p> +The order was made by men who seemed well disposed to execute it; and I +was accordingly grounded with a shock and a rapidity that savored much +more of ready compliance than any respect for my individual comfort. A +roar of laughter rang through the motley mass, and every powder-stained +face around me seemed convulsed with merriment. As I sat passively upon +the ground, looking ruefully about, whether my gestures or my words +heightened the absurdity of my appearance, it is hard to say; but +certainly the laughter increased at each moment, and the drunken wretches +danced round me in ecstasy. +</p> +<p> +“Where is your major? Major O’Shaughnessy, lads?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“He’s in the church, with the general, your honor,” said the sergeant of +the regiment, upon whom the mention of his officer’s name seemed at once +to have a sobering influence. Assisting me to rise (for I was weak as a +child), he led me through the dense crowd, who, such is the influence of +example, now formed into line, and as well as their state permitted, gave +me a military salute as I passed. “Follow me, sir,” said the sergeant; +“this little dark street to the left will take us to the private door of +the chapel.” +</p> +<p> +“Wherefore are they there, Sergeant?” +</p> +<p> +“There’s a general of division mortally wounded.” +</p> +<p> +“You did not hear his name?” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir. All I know is, he was one of the storming party at the lesser +breach.” +</p> +<p> +A cold, sickening shudder came over me; I durst not ask farther, but +pressed on with anxious steps towards the chapel. +</p> +<p> +“There, sir, yonder, where you see the light. That’s the door.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, the sergeant stopped suddenly, and placed his hand to his cap. +I saw at once that he was sufficiently aware of his condition not to +desire to appear before his officers; so, hurriedly thanking him, I walked +forward. +</p> +<p> +“Halt, there! and give the countersign,” cried a sentinel, who with fixed +bayonet stood before the door. +</p> +<p> +“I am an officer,” said I, endeavoring to pass in. +</p> +<p> +“Stand bock, stand bock!” said the harsh voice of the Highlander, for such +he was. +</p> +<p> +“Is Major O’Shaughnessy in the church?” +</p> +<p> +“I dinna ken,” was the short, rough answer. +</p> +<p> +“Who is the officer so badly wounded?” +</p> +<p> +“I dinna ken,” repeated he, as gruffly as before; while he added, in a +louder key, “Stand bock, I tell ye, man! Dinna ye see the staff coming?” +</p> +<p> +I turned round hastily, and at the same instant several officers, who +apparently from precaution had dismounted at the end of the street, were +seen approaching. They came hurriedly forward, but without speaking. He +who was in advance of the party wore a short, blue cape over an undress +uniform. The rest were in full regimentals. I had scarcely time to throw a +passing glance upon him, when the officer I have mentioned as coming first +called out in a stern voice,— +</p> +<p> +“Who are you, sir?” +</p> +<p> +I started at the sounds; it was not the first time those accents had been +heard by me. +</p> +<p> +“Captain O’Malley, Fourteenth Light Dragoons.” +</p> +<p> +“What brings you here, sir? Your regiment is at Caya.” +</p> +<p> +“I have been employed as acting aide-de-camp to General Crawfurd,” said I, +hesitatingly. +</p> +<p> +“Is that your staff uniform?” said he, as with compressed brow and stern +look he fixed his eyes upon my coat. Before I had time to reply, or, +indeed, before I well knew how to do so, a gruff voice from behind called +out,— +</p> +<p> +“Damn me! if that ain’t the fellow that led the stormers through a broken +embrasure! I say, my lord, that’s the yeoman I was telling you of. Is it +not so, sir?” continued he, turning towards me. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir. I led a party of the Eighty-eight at the breach.” +</p> +<p> +“And devilish well you did it, too!” added Picton, for it was he who +recognized me. “I saw him, my lord, spring down from the parapet upon a +French gunner, and break his sword as he cleft his helmet in two. Yes, +yes; I shall not forget in a hurry how you laid about you with the rammer +of the gun! By Jove! that’s it he has in his hand!” +</p> +<p> +While Picton ran thus hurriedly on, Lord Wellington’s calm but stern +features never changed their expression. The looks of those around were +bent upon me with interest and even admiration; but his evinced nothing of +either. +</p> +<p> +Reverting at once to my absence from my post, he asked me,— +</p> +<p> +“Did you obtain leave for a particular service, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“No, my lord. It was simply from an accidental circumstance that—” +</p> +<p> +“Then, report yourself at your quarters as under arrest.” +</p> +<p> +“But, my lord—” said Picton. Lord Wellington waited not for the +explanation, but walked firmly forward, and strode into the church. The +staff followed in silence, Picton turning one look of kindness on me as he +went, as though to say, “I’ll not forget you.” +</p> +<p> +“The devil take it,” cried I, as I found myself once more alone, “but I’m +unlucky! What would turn out with other men the very basis of their +fortune, is ever with me the source of ill-luck.” +</p> +<p> +It was evident, from Picton’s account, that I had distinguished myself in +the breach; and yet nothing was more clear than that my conduct had +displeased the commander-in-chief. Picturing him ever to my mind’s eye as +the <i>beau idéal</i> of a military leader, by some fatality of fortune I +was continually incurring his displeasure, for whose praise I would have +risked my life. “And this confounded costume—What, in the name of +every absurdity, could have ever persuaded me to put it on. What signifies +it, though a man should cover himself with glory, if in the end he is to +be laughed at? Well, well, it matters not much, now my soldiering’s over! +And yet I could have wished that the last act of my campaigning had +brought with it pleasanter recollections.” +</p> +<p> +As thus I ruminated, the click of the soldier’s musket near aroused me: +Picton was passing out. A shade of gloom and depression was visible upon +his features, and his lip trembled as he muttered some sentences to +himself. +</p> +<p> +“Ha! Captain—I forget the name. Yes, Captain O’Malley; you are +released from arrest. General Crawfurd has spoken very well of you, and +Lord Wellington has heard the circumstances of your case.” +</p> +<p> +“Is it General Crawfurd, then, that is wounded, sir?” said I, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +Picton paused for a moment, while, with an effort, he controlled his +features into their stern and impassive expression, then added hurriedly +and almost harshly:— +</p> +<p> +Yes, sir; badly wounded through the arm and in the lung. He mentioned you +to the notice of the commander-in-chief, and your application for leave is +granted. In fact, you are to have the distinguished honor of carrying back +despatches. There, now; you had better join your brigade.” +</p> +<p> +“Could I not see my general once more? It may be for the last time.” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir!” sternly replied Picton. “Lord Wellington believes you under +arrest. It is as well he should suppose you obeyed his orders.” +</p> +<p> +There was a tone of sarcasm in these words that prevented my reply; and +muttering my gratitude for his well-timed and kindly interference in my +behalf, I bowed deeply and turned away. +</p> +<p> +“I say, sir!” said Picton, as he returned towards the church, “should +anything befall,—that is, if, unfortunately, circumstances should +make you in want and desirous of a staff appointment, remember that you +are known to General Picton.” +</p> +<p> +Downcast and depressed by the news of my poor general, I wended my way +with slow and uncertain steps towards the rampart. A clear, cold, wintry +sky and a sharp, bracing air made my wound, slight as it was, more +painful, and I endeavored to reach the reserves, where I knew the +hospital-staff had established, for the present, their quarters. I had not +gone far when, from a marauding party, I learned that my man Mike was in +search of me through the plain. A report of my death had reached him, and +the poor fellow was half distracted. +</p> +<p> +Longing anxiously to allay his fears on my account, which I well knew +might lead him into any act of folly or insanity, I pressed forward; +besides—shall I confess it?—amidst the manifold thoughts of +sorrow and affliction which weighed me down, I could not divest myself of +the feeling that so long as I wore my present absurd costume, I could be +nothing but an object of laughter and ridicule to all who met me. +</p> +<p> +I had not long to look for my worthy follower, for I soon beheld him +cantering about the plain. A loud shout brought him beside me; and truly +the poor fellow’s delight was great and sincere. With a thousand +protestations of his satisfaction, and reiterated assurances of what he +would not have done to the French prisoners if anything had happened me, +we took our way together towards the camp. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVII. +</h2> +<p> +THE DESPATCH. +</p> +<p> +I was preparing to visit the town on the following morning, when my +attention was attracted by a dialogue which took place beneath my window. +</p> +<p> +“I say, my good friend,” cried a mounted orderly to Mike, who was busily +employed in brushing a jacket,—“I say, are you Captain O’Malley’s +man?” +</p> +<p> +“The least taste in life o’ that same,” replied he, with a half-jocular +expression. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then,” said the other, “take up these letters to your master. Be +alive, my fine fellow, for they are despatches, and I must have a written +return for them.” +</p> +<p> +“Won’t ye get off and take a drop of somethin’ refreshing; the air is +cowld this morning.” +</p> +<p> +“I can’t stay, my good friend, but thank you all the same; so be alive, +will you?” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, there’s no hurry in life. Sure, it’s an invitation to dinner to +Lord Wellington or a tea-party at Sir Denny’s; sure, my master’s bothered +with them every day o’ th’ week: that’s the misfortune of being an +agreeable creature; and I’d be led into dissipation myself, if I wasn’t +rear’d prudent.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, come along, take these letters, for I must be off; my time is +short.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s more nor your nose is, honey,” said Mike, evidently piqued at the +little effect his advances had produced upon the Englishman. “Give them +here,” continued he, while he turned the various papers in every +direction, affecting to read their addresses. +</p> +<p> +“There’s nothing for me here, I see. Did none of the generals ask after +me?” +</p> +<p> +“You <i>are</i> a queer one!” said the dragoon, not a little puzzled what +to make of him. +</p> +<p> +Mike meanwhile thrust the papers carelessly into his pocket, and strode +into the house, whistling a quick-step as he went, with the air of a man +perfectly devoid of care or occupation. The next moment, however, he +appeared at my door, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, and +apparently breathless with haste. +</p> +<p> +“Despatches, Mister Charles, despatches from Lord Wellington. The orderly +is waiting below for a return.” +</p> +<p> +“Tell him he shall have it in one moment,” replied I. “And now bring me a +light.” +</p> +<p> +Before I had broken the seal of the envelope, Mike was once more at the +porch. +</p> +<p> +“My master is writing a few lines to say he’ll do it. Don’t be talking of +it,” added he, dropping his voice, “but they want him to take another +fortress.” +</p> +<p> +What turn the dialogue subsequently took, I cannot say, for I was entirely +occupied by a letter which accompanied the despatches. It ran as follows:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +QUARTER-GENERAL, + +CIUDAD RODRIGO, Jan. 20, 1812. + +Dear Sir,—The commander-in-chief has been kind enough to accord you +the leave of absence you applied for, and takes the opportunity +of your return to England to send you the accompanying letters +for his Royal Highness the Duke of York. To his approval of +your conduct in the assault last night you owe this distinguished +mark of Lord Wellington’s favor, which, I hope, will be duly +appreciated by you, and serve to increase your zeal for that service +in which you have already distinguished yourself. + +Believe me that I am most happy in being made the medium of +this communication, and have the honor to be, + +Very truly yours, + +T. PICTON. +</pre> +<p> +I read and re-read this note again and again. Every line was conned over +by me, and every phrase weighed and balanced in my mind. Nothing could be +more gratifying, nothing more satisfactory to my feelings; and I would not +have exchanged its possession for the brevet of a lieutenant-colonel. +</p> +<p> +“Halloo, Orderly!” cried I, from the window, as I hurriedly sealed my few +words of acknowledgment, “take this note back to General Picton, and +here’s a guinea for yourself.” So saying, I pitched into his ready hand +one of the very few which remained to me in the world. “This is, indeed, +good news!” said I, to myself. “This is, indeed, a moment of unmixed +happiness!” +</p> +<p> +As I closed the window, I could hear Mike pronouncing a glowing eulogium +upon my liberality, from which he could not, however, help in some degree +detracting, as he added: +</p> +<p> +“But the devil thank him, after all! Sure, it’s himself has the illigant +fortune and the fine place of it!” +</p> +<p> +Scarcely were the last sounds of the retiring horseman dying away in the +distance, when Mike’s meditations took another form, and he muttered +between his teeth, “Oh, holy Agatha! a guinea, a raal gold guinea to a +thief of a dragoon that come with the letter, and here am I wearing a +picture of the holy family for a back to my waistcoat, all out of economy; +and sure, God knows, but may be they’ll take their dealing trick out of me +in purgatory for this hereafter; and faith, it’s a beautiful pair of +breeches I’d have had, if I wasn’t ashamed to put the twelve apostles on +my legs.” +</p> +<p> +While Mike ran on at this rate, my eyes fell upon a few lines of +postscript in Picton’s letter, which I had not previously noticed. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“The official despatches of the storming are, of course, intrusted to +senior officers, but I need scarcely remind you that it will be a +polite and proper attention to his Royal Highness to present your +letters with as little delay as possible. Not a moment is to be lost +on your landing in England.” +</pre> +<p> +“Mike!” cried I, “how look the cattle for a journey?” +</p> +<p> +“The chestnut is a little low in flesh, but in great wind, your honor; and +the black horse is jumping like a filly.” +</p> +<p> +“And Badger?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Howld him, if you can, that’s all; but it’s murthering work this, +carrying despatches day after day.” +</p> +<p> +“This time, however, Mike, we must not grumble.” +</p> +<p> +“May be it isn’t far?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, as to that, I shall not promise much. I’m bound for England, +Mickey.” +</p> +<p> +“For England!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Mike, and for Ireland.” +</p> +<p> +“For Ireland! whoop!” shouted he, as he shied his cap into one corner of +the room, the jacket he was brushing into the other, and began dancing +round the table with no bad imitation of an Indian war dance. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“How I’ll dance like a fairy, +To see ould Dunleary, +And think twice ere I leave it to be a dragoon.” +</pre> +<p> +“Oh, blessed hour! Isn’t it beautiful to think of the illuminations and +dinners and speeches and shaking of hands, huzzaing, and hip-hipping. May +be there won’t be pictures of us in all the shops,—Mister Charles +and his man Mister Free. May be they won’t make plays out of us; myself +dressed in the gray coat with the red cuffs, the cords, the tops, and the +Caroline hat a little cocked, with a phiz in the side of it.” Here he made +a sign with his expanded fingers to represent a cockade, which he +designated by this word. “I think I see myself dining with the +corporation, and the Lord Major of Dublin getting up to propose the health +of the hero of El Bodon, Mr. Free; and three times three, hurra! hurra! +hurra! Musha, but it’s dry I am gettin’ with the thoughts of the punch and +the poteen negus.” +</p> +<p> +“If you go on at this rate, we’re not likely to be soon at our journey’s +end. So be alive now; pack up my kit; I shall start by twelve o’clock.” +</p> +<p> +With one spring Mike cleared the stairs, and overthrowing everything and +everybody in his way, hurried towards the stable, chanting at the top of +his voice the very poetical strain he had indulged me with a few minutes +before. +</p> +<p> +My preparations were rapidly made; a few hurried lines of leave-taking to +the good fellows I had lived so much with and felt so strongly attached +to, with a firm assurance that I should join them again ere long, was all +that my time permitted. To Power I wrote more at length, detailing the +circumstances which my own letters informed me of, and also those which +invited me to return home. This done, I lost not another moment, but set +out upon my journey. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVIII. +</h2> +<p> +THE LEAVE. +</p> +<p> +After an hour’s sharp riding we reached the Aguada, where the river was +yet fordable; crossing this, we mounted the Sierra by a narrow and winding +pass which leads through the mountains towards Almeida. Here I turned once +more to cast a last and farewell look at the scene of our late encounter. +It was but a few hours that I had stood almost on the same spot, and yet +how altered was all around. The wide plain, then bustling with all the +life and animation of a large army, was now nearly deserted,—some +dismounted guns, some broken-up, dismantled batteries, around which a few +sentinels seemed to loiter rather than to keep guard; a strong detachment +of infantry could be seen wending their way towards the fortress, and a +confused mass of camp-followers, sutlers, and peasants following their +steps for protection against the pillagers and the still ruder assaults of +their own Guerillas. The fortress, too, was changed indeed. Those mighty +walls before whose steep sides the bravest fell back baffled and beaten, +were now a mass of ruin and decay; the muleteer could be seen driving his +mule along through the rugged ascent of that breach to win whose top the +best blood of Albion’s chivalry was shed; and the peasant child looked +timidly from those dark enclosures in the deep fosse below, where perished +hundreds of our best and bravest. The air was calm, clear, and unclouded; +no smoke obscured the transparent atmosphere; the cannon had ceased; and +the voices that rang so late in accents of triumphant victory were stilled +in death. Everything, indeed, had undergone a mighty change; but nothing +brought the altered fortunes of the scene so vividly to my mind as when I +remembered that when last I had seen those walls, the dark shako of the +French grenadiers peered above their battlements, and now the gay tartan +of the Highlanders fluttered above them, and the red flag of England waved +boldly in the breeze. +</p> +<p> +Up to that moment my sensations were those of unmixed pleasure. The +thought of my home, my friends, my country, the feeling that I was +returning with the bronze of the battle upon my cheek, and the voice of +praise still ringing in my heart,—these were proud thoughts, and my +bosom heaved short and quickly as I revolved them; but as I turned my gaze +for the last time towards the gallant army I was leaving, a pang of +sorrow, of self-reproach, shot through me, and I could not help feeling +how far less worthily was I acting in yielding to the impulse of my +wishes, than had I remained to share the fortunes of the campaign. +</p> +<p> +So powerfully did these sensations possess me, that I sat motionless for +some time, uncertain whether to proceed; forgetting that I was the bearer +of important information, I only remembered that by my own desire I was +there; my reason but half convinced me that the part I had adopted was +right and honorable, and more than once my resolution to proceed hung in +the balance. It was just at this critical moment of my doubts that Mike, +who had been hitherto behind, came up. +</p> +<p> +“Is it the upper road, sir?” said he, pointing to a steep and rugged path +which led by a zigzag ascent towards the crest of the mountain. +</p> +<p> +I nodded in reply, when he added:— +</p> +<p> +“Doesn’t this remind your honor of Sleibh More, above the Shannon, where +we used to be grouse shooting? And there’s the keeper’s house in the +valley; and that might be your uncle, the master himself, waving his hat +to you.” +</p> +<p> +Had he known the state of my conflicting feelings at the moment, he could +not more readily have decided this doubt. I turned abruptly away, put +spurs to my horse, and dashed up the steep pass at a pace which evidently +surprised, and as evidently displeased, my follower. +</p> +<p> +How natural it is ever to experience a reaction of depression and lowness +after the first burst of unexpected joy! The moment of happiness is scarce +experienced ere come the doubts of its reality, the fears for its +continuance; the higher the state of pleasurable excitement, the more +painful and the more pressing the anxieties that await on it; the tension +of delighted feelings cannot last, and our overwrought faculties seek +repose in regrets. Happy he who can so temper his enjoyments as to view +them in their shadows as in their sunshine; he may not, it is true, behold +the landscape in the blaze of its noonday brightness, but he need not fear +the thunder-cloud nor the hurricane. The calm autumn of <i>his</i> bliss, +if it dazzle not in its brilliancy, will not any more be shrouded in +darkness and in gloom. +</p> +<p> +My first burst of pleasure over, the thought of my uncle’s changed +fortunes pressed deeply on my heart, and a hundred plans suggested +themselves in turn to my mind to relieve his present embarrassments; but I +knew how impracticable they would all prove when opposed by his +prejudices. To sell the old home of his forefathers, to wander from the +roof which had sheltered his name for generations, he would never consent +to; the law might by force expel him, and drive him a wanderer and an +exile, but of his own free will the thing was hopeless. Considine, too, +would encourage rather than repress such feelings; his feudalism would +lead him to any lengths; and in defence of what he would esteem a right, +he would as soon shoot a sheriff as a snipe, and, old as he was, ask for +no better amusement than to arm the whole tenantry and give battle to the +king’s troops on the wide plain of Scariff. Amidst such conflicting +thought, I travelled on moodily and in silence, to the palpable +astonishment of Mike, who could not help regarding me as one from whom +fortune met the most ungrateful returns. At every new turn of the road he +would endeavor to attract my attention by the objects around,—no +white-turreted château, no tapered spire in the distance, escaped him; he +kept up a constant ripple of half-muttered praise and censure upon all he +saw, and instituted unceasing comparisons between the country and his own, +in which, I am bound to say, Ireland rarely, if ever, had to complain of +his patriotism. +</p> +<p> +When we arrived at Almeida, I learned that the “Medea” sloop-of-war was +lying off Oporto, and expected to sail for England in a few days. The +opportunity was not to be neglected. The official despatches, I was aware, +would be sent through Lisbon, where the “Gorgon” frigate was in waiting to +convey them; but should I be fortunate enough to reach Oporto in time, I +had little doubt of arriving in England with the first intelligence of the +fall of Ciudad Rodrigo. Reducing my luggage, therefore, to the smallest +possible compass, and having provided myself with a juvenile guide for the +pass of La Reyna, I threw myself, without undressing, upon the bed, and +waited anxiously for the break of day to resume my journey. +</p> +<p> +As I ruminated over the prospect my return presented, I suddenly +remembered Frank Webber’s letter, which I had hastily thrust into a +portfolio without reading, so occupied was I by Considine’s epistle; with +a little searching I discovered it, and trimming my lamp, as I felt no +inclination to sleep, I proceeded to the examination of what seemed a more +than usually voluminous epistle. It contained four closely-written pages, +accompanied by something like a plan in an engineering sketch. My +curiosity becoming further stimulated by this, I sat down to peruse it. It +began thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Official Despatch of Lieutenant-General Francis Webber to Lord +Castlereagh, detailing the assault and capture of the old pump, in +Trinity College, Dublin, on the night of the second of December, +eighteen hundred and eleven, with returns of killed, wounded, +and missing, with other information from the seat of war. + +HEADQUARTERS, No. 2, OLD SQUARE. + +My Lord,—In compliance with the instructions contained in your +lordship’s despatch of the twenty-first ultimo, I concentrated the +force under my command, and assembling the generals of division, +made known my intentions in the following general order:— + +A. G. O. + +The following troops will this evening assemble at headquarters, and +having partaken of a sufficient dinner for the next two days, with +punch for four, will hold themselves in readiness to march in the +following order:— + +Harry Nesbitt’s Brigade of Incorrigibles will form a blockading +force, in the line extending from the vice-provost’s house to the +library. The light division, under Mark Waller, will skirmish from +the gate towards the middle of the square, obstructing the march of +the Cuirassiers of the Guard, which, under the command of old Duncan +the porter, are expected to move in that direction. Two columns of +attack will be formed by the senior sophisters of the Old Guard, and +a forlorn hope of the “cautioned” men at the last four examinations +will form, under the orders of Timothy O’Rourke, beneath the shadow +of the dining-hall. + +At the signal of the dean’s bell the stormers will move forward. A +cheer from the united corps will then announce the moment of attack. + +The word for the night will be, “May the Devil admire me!” + +The commander-of-the-forces desires that the different corps should +be as strong as possible, and expects that no man will rema +any pretence whatever, in the rear with the lush. During the main +assault, Cecil Cavendish will make a feint upon the provost’s +windows, to be converted into a real attack if the ladies scream. + +GENERAL ORDER. + +The commissary-general, Foley, will supply the following articles for +the use of the troops: Two hams; eight pair of chickens, the same to +be roasted; a devilled turkey; sixteen lobsters; eight hundred of +oysters, with a proportionate quantity of cold sherry and hot punch. + +The army will get drunk by ten o’clock to-night. + +Having made these dispositions, my lord, I proceeded to mislead +the enemy as to our intentions, in suffering my servant to be taken +with an intercepted despatch. This, being a prescription by Doctor +Colles, would convey to the dean’s mind the impression that I was +still upon the sick list. This being done, and four canisters of +Dartford gunpowder being procured on tick, our military chest being in +a most deplorable condition, I waited for the moment of attack. + +A heavy rain, accompanied with a frightful hurricane, prevailed +during the entire day, rendering the march of the troops who came +from the neighborhood of Merrion Square and Fitzwilliam Street, a +service of considerable fatigue. The outlying pickets in College Green, +being induced probably by the inclemency of the season, were rather +tipsy on joining, and having engaged in a skirmish with old M’Calister, +tying his red uniform over his head, the moment of attack +was precipitated, and we moved to the trenches by half-past nine +o’clock. + +Nothing could be more orderly, nothing more perfect, than the +march of the troops. As we approached the corner of the commons-hall, +a skirmish on the rear apprised us that our intentions had become +known; and I soon learned from my aide-de-camp, Bob Moore, +that the attack was made by a strong column of the enemy, under +the command of old Fitzgerald. + +Perpendicular (as your lordship is aware he is styled by the army) +came on in a determined manner, and before many minutes had +elapsed had taken several prisoners, among others Tom Drummond,—Long +Tom,—who, having fallen on all fours, was mistaken for a +long eighteen. The success, however, was but momentary; Nesbitt’s +Brigade attacked them in flank, rescued the prisoners, extinguished +the dean’s lantern, and having beaten back the heavy porters, took +Perpendicular himself prisoner. + +An express from the left informed me that the attack upon the +provost’s house had proved equally successful; there wasn’t a whole +pane of glass in the front, and from a footman who deserted, it was +learned that Mrs. Hutchinson was in hysterics. + +While I was reading this despatch, a strong feeling of the line +towards the right announced that something was taking place in that +direction. Bob Moore, who rode by on Drummond’s back, hurriedly +informed me that Williams had put the lighted end of his cigar to +one of the fuses, but the powder, being wet, did not explode +notwithstanding his efforts to effect it. Upon this, I hastened to the +front, where I found the individual in question kneeling upon the +ground, and endeavoring, as far as punch would permit him, to kindle a +flame at the portfire. Before I could interfere, the spark had caught; +a loud, hissing noise followed; the different magazines successively +became ignited, and at length the fire reached the great four-pound +charge. + +I cannot convey to your lordship, by any words of mine, an idea of +this terrible explosion; the blazing splinters were hurled into the +air, and fell in fiery masses on every side from the park to King +William; Ivey the bell-ringer, was precipitated from the scaffold +beside the bell, and fell headlong into the mud beneath; the +surrounding buildings trembled at the shock; the windows were +shattered, and in fact a scene of perfect devastation ensued on all +sides. + +When the smoke cleared away, I rose from my recumbent position, +and perceived with delight that not a vestige of the pump remained. +The old iron handle was imbedded in the wall of the dining-hall, and +its round knob stood out like the end of a queue. + +Our loss was, of course, considerable; and ordering the wounded +to the rear, I proceeded to make an orderly and regular retreat. At +this time, however, the enemy had assembled in force. Two battalions +of porters, led on by Dr. Dobbin, charged us on the flank; a +heavy brigade poured down upon us from the battery, and but for +the exertions of Harry Nesbitt, our communication with our reserves +must have been cut off. Cecil Cavendish also came up; for although +beaten in his great attack, the forces under his command had penetrated +by the kitchen windows, and carried oil a considerable quantity +of cold meat. + +Concentrating the different corps, I made an echelon movement +upon the chapel, to admit of the light division coming up. This they +did in a few moments, informing me that they had left Perpendicular +in the haha, which, as your lordship is aware, is a fosse of the +very greenest and most stagnant nature. We now made good our retreat +upon number “2,” carrying our wounded with us. The plunder +we also secured; but we kicked the prisoners, and suffered them to +escape. + +Thus terminated, my lord, one of the brightest achievements of the +undergraduate career. I enclose a list of the wounded, as also an +account of the various articles returned in the commissary-general’s +list. + +Harry Nesbitt: severely wounded; no coat nor hat; a black-eye; +left shoe missing. + +Cecil Cavendish: face severely scratched; supposed to have received +his wound in the attack upon the kitchen. + +Tom Drummond: not recognizable by his friends; his features +resembling a transparency disfigured by the smoke of the preceding +night’s illumination. + +Bob Moore: slightly wounded. + +I would beg particularly to recommend all these officers to your +lordship’s notice; indeed, the conduct of Moore, in kicking the dean’s +lantern out of the porter’s hand, was marked by great promptitude +and decision. This officer will present to H. R. H. the following +trophies, taken from the enemy: The dean’s cap and tassel; the key +of his chambers; Dr. Dobbin’s wig and bands; four porters’ helmets, +and a book on the cellar. + +I have the honor to remain, my lord, etc., + +FRANCIS WEBBER. + +G. O. + +The commander-of-the-forces returns his thanks to the various +officers and soldiers employed in the late assault, for their +persevering gallantry and courage. The splendor of the achievement +can only be equalled by the humanity and good conduct of the troops. +It only remains for him to add, that the less they say about the +transaction, and the sooner they are severally confined to their beds +with symptoms of contagious fever, the better. + +Meanwhile, to concert upon the future measures of the campaign, the +army will sup to-night at Morrison’s. +</pre> +<p> +Here ended this precious epistle, rendering one fact sufficiently evident,—that, +however my worthy friend advanced in years, he had not grown in wisdom. +</p> +<p> +While ruminating upon the strange infatuation which could persuade a +gifted and an able man to lavish upon dissipation and reckless absurdity +the talents that must, if well directed, raise him to eminence and +distinction, a few lines of a newspaper paragraph fell from the paper I +was reading. It ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +LATE OUTRAGE IN TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN. + +We have great pleasure in stating that the serious disturbance which +took place within the walls of our University a few evenings since, +was in no wise attributable to the conduct of the students. A party +of ill-disposed townspeople were, it would appear, the instigators +and perpetrators of the outrage. That their object was the total +destruction of our venerated University there can be but little +doubt. Fortunately, however, they did not calculate upon the <i>esprit +de corps</i> of the students, a body of whom, under the direction of Mr. +Webber, successfully opposed the assailants, and finally drove them +from the walls. + +It is, we understand, the intention of the board to confer some mark +of approbation upon Mr. Webber, who, independently of this, has +strong claims upon their notice, his collegiate success pointing him +out as the most extraordinary man of his day. + +This, my dear Charley, will give you some faint conception of one +of the most brilliant exploits of modern days. The bulletin, believe +me, is not Napoleonized into any bombastic extravagance of success. +The tiling was splendid; from the brilliant firework of the old pump +itself, to the figure of Perpendicular dripping with duckweed, like +an insane river-god, it was unequalled. Our fellows behaved like +trumps; and to do them justice, so did the enemy. But unfortunately, +notwithstanding this, and the plausible paragraphs of the +morning papers, I have been summoned before the board for Tuesday +next. + +Meanwhile I employ myself in throwing off a shower of small +squibs for the journals, so that if the board deal not mercifully with +me, I may meet with sympathy from the public. I have just despatched +a little editorial bit for the “Times,” calling, in terms of +parental tenderness, upon the University to say— + +“How long will the extraordinary excesses of a learned funct +be suffered to disgrace college? Is Doctor —— to be permitted to +exhibit an example of more riotous insubordination than would be +endured in an undergraduate? More on this subject hereafter.” + +“‘Saunders’ News-letter.’—Dr. Barret appeared at the head +police-office, before Alderman Darley, to make oath that neither he +nor Catty were concerned in the late outrage upon the pump.” etc., +etc. + +Paragraphs like these are flying about in every provincial paper of +the empire. People shake their heads when they speak of the University, +and respectable females rather cross over by King William and +the Bank than pass near its precincts. + +Tuesday Evening. + +Would you believe it, they’ve expelled me! Address your next +letter as usual, for they haven’t got rid of me yet. + +Yours, F. W. +</pre> +<p> +“So I shall find him in his old quarters,” thought I, “and evidently not +much altered since we parted.” It was not without a feeling of (I trust +pardonable) pride that I thought over my own career in the interval. My +three years of campaigning life had given me some insight into the world, +and some knowledge of myself, and conferred upon me a boon, of which I +know not the equal,—that, while yet young, and upon the very +threshold of life, I should have tasted the enthusiastic pleasures of a +soldier’s fortune, and braved the dangers and difficulties of a campaign +at a time when, under other auspices, I might have wasted my years in +unprofitable idleness or careless dissipation. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIX. +</h2> +<p> +LONDON. +</p> +<p> +Twelve hours after my arrival in England I entered London. I cannot +attempt to record the sensations which thronged my mind as the din and +tumult of that mighty city awoke me from a sound sleep I had fallen into +in the corner of the chaise. The seemingly interminable lines of +lamplight, the crash of carriages, the glare of the shops, the buzz of +voices, made up a chaotic mass of sights and sounds, leaving my efforts at +thought vain and fruitless. +</p> +<p> +Obedient to my instructions, I lost not a moment in my preparations to +deliver my despatches. Having dressed myself in the full uniform of my +corps, I drove to the Horse Guards. It was now nine o’clock, and I learned +that his Royal Highness had gone to dinner at Carlton House. In a few +words which I spoke with the aide-de-camp, I discovered that no +information of the fall of Ciudad Rodrigo had yet reached England. The +greatest anxiety prevailed as to the events of the Peninsula, from which +no despatches had been received for several weeks past. +</p> +<p> +To Carlton House I accordingly bent my steps, without any precise +determination how I should proceed when there, nor knowing how far +etiquette might be an obstacle to the accomplishment of my mission. The +news of which I was the bearer was, however, of too important a character +to permit me to hesitate, and I presented myself to the aide-de-camp in +waiting, simply stating that I was intrusted with important letters to his +Royal Highness, the purport of which did not admit of delay. +</p> +<p> +“They have not gone to dinner yet,” lisped out the aide-de-camp, “and if +you would permit me to deliver the letters—” +</p> +<p> +“Mine are despatches,” said I, somewhat proudly, and in no way disposed to +cede to another the honor of personally delivering them into the hands of +the duke. +</p> +<p> +“Then you had better present yourself at the levee to-morrow morning,” +replied he, carelessly, while he turned into one of the window recesses, +and resumed the conversation with one of the gentlemen-in-waiting. +</p> +<p> +I stood for some moments uncertain and undecided; reluctant on the one +part to relinquish my claim as the bearer of the despatches, and equally +unwilling to defer their delivery till the following day. +</p> +<p> +Adopting the former alternative, I took my papers from my sabretasche, and +was about to place them in the hands of the aide-de-camp, when the +folding-doors at the end of the apartment suddenly flew open, and a large +and handsome man with a high bald forehead entered hastily. +</p> +<p> +The different persons in waiting sprang from their lounging attitudes upon +the sofas, and bowed respectfully as he passed on towards another door. +His dress was a plain blue coat, buttoned to the collar, and his only +decoration a brilliant star upon the breast. There was that air, however, +of high birth and bearing about him that left no doubt upon my mind he was +of the blood royal. +</p> +<p> +As the aide-de-camp to whom I had been speaking opened the door for him to +pass out, I could hear some words in a low voice, in which the phrases, +“letters of importance” and “your Royal Highness” occurred. The individual +addressed turned suddenly about, and casting a rapid glance around the +room, without deigning a word in reply, walked straight up to where I was +standing. +</p> +<p> +“Despatches for me, sir?” said he, shortly, taking, as he spoke, the +packet from my hand. +</p> +<p> +“For his Royal Highness the commander-in-chief,” said I, bowing +respectfully, and still uncertain in whose presence I was standing. He +broke the seal without answering, and as his eye caught the first lines of +the despatch, broke out into an exclamation of— +</p> +<p> +Ha, Peninsular news! When did you arrive, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“An hour since, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“And these letters are from—” +</p> +<p> +“General Picton, your Royal Highness.” +</p> +<p> +“How glorious! How splendidly done!” muttered he to himself, as he ran his +eyes rapidly over the letter. “Are you Captain O’Malley, whose name is +mentioned here so favorably?” +</p> +<p> +I bowed deeply in reply. +</p> +<p> +“You are most highly spoken of, and it will give me sincere pleasure to +recommend you to the notice of the Prince Regent. But stay a moment,” so +saying, he hurriedly passed from the room, leaving me overwhelmed at the +suddenness of the incident, and a mark of no small astonishment to the +different persons in waiting, who had hitherto no other idea but that my +despatches were from Hounslow or Knightsbridge. +</p> +<p> +“Captain O’Malley,” said an officer covered with decorations, and whose +slightly foreign accent bespoke the Hanoverian, “his Royal Highness +requests you will accompany me.” The door opened as he spoke, and I found +myself in a most splendidly lit-up apartment,—the walls covered with +pictures, and the ceiling divided, into panels resplendent with the +richest gilding. A group of persons in court dresses were conversing in a +low tone as we entered, but suddenly ceased, and saluting my conductor +respectfully, made way for us to pass on. The folding-doors again opened +as we approached, and we found ourselves in a long gallery, whose +sumptuous furniture and costly decorations shone beneath the rich tints of +a massive lustre of ruby glass, diffusing a glow resembling the most +gorgeous sunset. Here also some persons in handsome uniform were +conversing, one of whom accosted my companion by the title of “Baron;” +nodding familiarly as he muttered a few words in German, he passed +forward, and the next moment the doors were thrown suddenly wide, and we +entered the drawing-room. +</p> +<p> +The buzz of voices and the sound of laughter reassured me as I came +forward, and before I had well time to think where and why I was there, +the Duke of York advanced towards me, with a smile of peculiar sweetness +in its expression, and said, as he turned towards one side:— +</p> +<p> +“Your Royal Highness—Captain O’Malley!” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke the Prince moved forward, and bowed slightly. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve brought us capital news, Mr. O’Malley. May I beg, if you’re not +too much tired, you’ll join us at dinner. I am most anxious to learn the +particulars of the assault.” +</p> +<p> +As I bowed my acknowledgments to the gracious invitation, he continued:— +</p> +<p> +“Are you acquainted with my friend here?—but of course you can +scarcely be; you began too early as a soldier. So let me present you to my +friend, Mr. Tierney,” a middle-aged man, whose broad, white forehead and +deep-set eyes gave a character to features that were otherwise not +remarkable in expression, and who bowed rather stiffly. +</p> +<p> +Before he had concluded a somewhat labored compliment to me, we were +joined by a third person, whose strikingly-handsome features were lit up +with an expression of the most animated kind. He accosted the Prince with +an air of easy familiarity, and while he led him from the group, appeared +to be relating some anecdote which actually convulsed his Royal Highness +with laughter. +</p> +<p> +Before I had time or opportunity to inquire who the individual could be, +dinner was announced, and the wide folding-doors being thrown open, +displayed the magnificent dining-room of Carlton House in all the blaze +and splendor of its magnificence. +</p> +<p> +The sudden change from the rough vicissitudes of campaigning life to all +the luxury and voluptuous elegance of a brilliant court, created too much +confusion in my mind to permit of my impressions being the most accurate +or most collected. The splendor of the scene, the rank, but even more the +talent of the individuals by whom I was surrounded, had all their full +effect upon me. And although I found, from the tone of the conversation +about, how immeasurably I was their inferior, yet by a delicate and +courteous interest in the scene of which I had lately partaken, they took +away the awkwardness which in some degree was inseparable from the novelty +of my position among them. +</p> +<p> +Conversing about the Peninsula with a degree of knowledge which I could in +no wise comprehend from those not engaged in the war, they appeared +perfectly acquainted with all the details of the campaign; and I heard on +every side of me anecdotes and stories which I scarcely believed known +beyond the precincts of a regiment. The Prince himself—the grace and +charm of whose narrative talents have seldom been excelled—was +particularly conspicuous, and I could not help feeling struck with his +admirable imitations of voice and manner. The most accomplished actor +could not have personated the canny, calculating spirit of the Scot, or +the rollicking recklessness of the Irishman, with more tact and <i>finesse</i>. +But far above all this, shone the person I have already alluded to as +speaking to his Royal Highness in the drawing-room. Combining the happiest +conversational eloquence with a quick, ready, and brilliant fancy, he +threw from him in all the careless profusion of boundless resource a +shower of pointed and epigrammatic witticisms. Now illustrating a really +difficult subject by one happy touch, as the blaze of the lightning will +light up the whole surface of the dark landscape beneath it; now turning +the force of an adversary’s argument by some fallacious but unanswerable +jest, accompanying the whole by those fascinations of voice, look, +gesture, and manner which have made those who once have seen, never able +to forget Brinsley Sheridan. +</p> +<p> +I am not able, were I even disposed, to record more particularly the +details of that most brilliant evening of my life. On every side of me I +heard the names of those whose fame as statesmen or whose repute as men of +letters was ringing throughout Europe. They were then, too, not in the +easy indolence of ordinary life, but displaying with their utmost effort +those powers of wit, fancy, imagination, and eloquence which had won for +them elsewhere their high and exalted position. The masculine +understanding and powerful intellect of Tierney vied with the brilliant +and dazzling conceptions of Sheridan. The easy <i>bonhomie</i> and English +heartiness of Fox contrasted with the cutting sarcasm and sharp raillery +of O’Kelly. While contesting the palm with each himself, the Prince +evinced powers of mind and eloquent facilities of expression that, in any +walk of life, must have made their possessor a most distinguished man. +Politics, war, women, literature, the turf, the navy, the opposition, +architecture, and the drama, were all discussed with a degree of +information and knowledge that proved to me how much of real acquirements +can be obtained by those whose exalted station surrounds them with the +collective intellect of a nation. As for myself, the time flew past +unconsciously. So brilliant a display of all that was courtly and +fascinating in manner, and all that was brightest in genius, was so novel +to me, that I really felt like one entranced. To this hour, my impression, +however confused in details, is as vivid as though that evening were but +yesternight; and although since that period I have enjoyed numerous +opportunities of meeting with the great and the gifted, yet I treasure the +memory of that evening as by far the most exciting of my whole life. +</p> +<p> +While I abstain from any mention of the many incidents of the evening, I +cannot pass over one which, occurring to myself, is valuable but as +showing, by one slight and passing trait, the amiable and kind feeling of +one whose memory is hallowed in the service. +</p> +<p> +A little lower than myself, on the opposite side of the table, I perceived +an old military acquaintance whom I had first met in Lisbon. He was then +on Sir Charles Stewart’s staff, and we met almost daily. Wishing to +commend myself to his recollection, I endeavored for some time to catch +his eye, but in vain; but at last when I thought I had succeeded, I called +to him,— +</p> +<p> +“I say, Fred, a glass of wine with you.” +</p> +<p> +When suddenly the Duke of York, who was speaking to Lord Hertford, turned +quickly round, and taking the decanter in his hand, replied,— +</p> +<p> +“With pleasure, O’Malley. What shall it be, my boy?” +</p> +<p> +I shall never forget the manly good-humor of his look as he sat waiting +for my answer. He had taken my speech as addressed to himself, and +concluding that from fatigue, the novelty of the scene, my youth, etc., I +was not over collected, vouchsafed in this kind way to receive it. +</p> +<p> +“So,” said he, as I stammered out my explanation, “I was deceived. +However, don’t cheat me out of my glass of wine. Let us have it now.” +</p> +<p> +With this little anecdote, whose truth I vouch for, I shall conclude. More +than one now living was a witness to it, and my only regret in the mention +of it is my inability to convey the readiness with which he seized the +moment of apparent difficulty to throw the protection of his kind and +warm-hearted nature over the apparent folly of a boy. +</p> +<p> +It was late when the party broke up, and as I took my leave of the Prince, +he once more expressed himself in gracious terms towards me, and gave me +personally an invitation to a breakfast at Hounslow on the following +Saturday. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XL. +</h2> +<p> +THE BELL AT BRISTOL. +</p> +<p> +On the morning after my dinner at Carlton House, I found my +breakfast-table covered with cards and invitations. The news of the +storming of Ciudad Rodrigo was published in all the morning papers, and my +own humble name, in letters of three feet long, was exhibited in placards +throughout the city. Less to this circumstance, however, than to the kind +and gracious notice of the Prince, was I indebted for the attentions which +were shown me by every one; and indeed, so flattering was the reception I +met with, and so overwhelming the civility showered on me from all sides, +that it required no small effort on my part not to believe myself as much +a hero as they would make me. An eternal round of dinners, balls, +breakfasts, and entertainments filled up the entire week. I was included +in every invitation to Carlton House, and never appeared without receiving +from his Royal Highness the most striking marks of attention. Captivating +as all this undoubtedly was, and fascinated as I felt in being the lion of +London, the courted and sought after by the high, the titled, and the +talented of the great city of the universe, yet amidst all the splendor +and seduction of that new world, my heart instinctively turned from the +glare and brilliancy of gorgeous saloons, from the soft looks and softer +voice of beauty, from the words of praise as they fell from the lips of +those whose notice was fame itself,—to my humble home amidst the +mountains of the west. Delighted and charmed as I felt by that tribute of +flattery which associated my name with one of the most brilliant actions +of my country, yet hitherto I had experienced no touch of home or +fatherland. England was to me as the high and powerful head of my house, +whose greatness and whose glory shed a halo far and near, from the +proudest to the humblest of those that call themselves Britons; but +Ireland was-the land of my birth,—the land of my earliest ties, my +dearest associations,—the kind mother whose breath had fanned my +brow in infancy, and for her in my manhood my heart beat with every throb +of filial affection. Need I say, then, how ardently I longed to turn +homeward; for independent of all else, I could not avoid some +self-reproach on thinking what might be the condition of those I prized +the most on earth, at that very moment I was engaging in all the +voluptuous abandonment, and all the fascinating excesses of a life of +pleasure. I wrote several letters home, but received no answer; nor did I, +in the whole round of London society, meet with a single person who could +give me information of my family or my friends. The Easter recess had sent +the different members of Parliament to their homes; and thus, within a +comparatively short distance of all I cared for, I could learn nothing of +their fate. +</p> +<p> +The invitations of the Prince Regent, which were, of course, to be +regarded as commands, still detained me in London; and I knew not in what +manner to escape from the fresh engagements which each day heaped upon me. +In my anxiety upon the subject, I communicated my wishes to a friend on +the duke’s staff, and the following morning, as I presented myself at his +levee, he called me towards him and addressed me:— +</p> +<p> +“What leave have you got, Captain O’Malley?” +</p> +<p> +“Three months, your Royal Highness.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you desire an unattached troop; for if so, an opportunity occurs just +at this moment.” +</p> +<p> +“I thank you most sincerely, sir, for your condescension in thinking of +me; but my wish is to join my regiment at the expiration of my leave.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, I thought they told me you wanted to spend some time in Ireland?” +</p> +<p> +“Only sufficient to see my friends, your Royal Highness. That done, I’d +rather join my regiment immediately.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, that alters the case! So then, probably, you’d like to leave us at +once. I see how it is; you’ve been staying here against your will all this +while. Then, don’t say a word. I’ll make your excuses at Carlton House; +and the better to cover your retreat, I’ll employ you on service. Here, +Gordon, let Captain O’Malley have the despatches for Sir Henry Howard, at +Cork.” As he said this, he turned towards me with an air of affected +sternness in his manner, and continued: “I expect, Captain O’Malley, that +you will deliver the despatches intrusted to your care without a moment’s +loss of time. You will leave London within an hour. The instructions for +your journey will be sent to your hotel. And now,” said he, again changing +his voice to its natural tone of kindliness and courtesy,—“and now, +my boy, good-by, and a safe journey to you. These letters will pay your +expenses, and the occasion save you all the worry of leave-taking.” +</p> +<p> +I stood confused and speechless, unable to utter a single word of +gratitude for such unexpected kindness. The duke saw at once my +difficulty, and as he shook me warmly by the hand, added, in a laughing +tone,— +</p> +<p> +“Don’t wait, now; you mustn’t forget that your despatches are pressing.” +</p> +<p> +I bowed deeply, attempted a few words of acknowledgment, hesitated, +blundered, broke down, and at last got out of the room, Heaven knows how, +and found myself running towards Long’s at the top of my speed. Within +that same hour I was rattling along towards Bristol as fast as four +posters could burn the pavement, thinking with ecstasy over the pleasures +of my reception in England; but far more than all, of the kindness evinced +towards me by him who, in every feeling of his nature, and in every +feature of his deportment was “every inch a prince.” +</p> +<p> +However astonished I had been at the warmth, by which I was treated in +London, I was still less prepared for the enthusiasm which greeted me in +every town through which I passed. There was not a village where we +stopped to change horses whose inhabitants did not simultaneously pour +forth to welcome me with every demonstration of delight. That the fact of +four horses and a yellow chaise should have elicited such testimonies of +satisfaction, was somewhat difficult to conceive; and even had the +important news that I was the bearer of despatches been telegraphed from +London by successive postboys, still the extraordinary excitement was +unaccountable. It was only on reaching Bristol that I learned to what +circumstance my popularity was owing. My friend Mike, in humble imitation +of election practices, had posted a large placard on the back of the +chaise, announcing, in letters of portentous length, something like the +following:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Bloody news! Fall of Ciudad Rodrigo! Five thousand prisoners +and two hundred pieces of cannon taken!” +</pre> +<p> +This veracious and satisfactory statement, aided by Mike’s personal +exertions, and an unwearied performance on the trumpet he had taken from +the French dragoon, had roused the population of every hamlet, and made +our journey from London to Bristol one scene of uproar, noise, and +confusion. All my attempts to suppress Mike’s oratory or music were +perfectly unavailing. In fact, he had pledged my health so many times +during the day; he had drunk so many toasts to the success of the British +arms, so many to the English nation, so many in honor of Ireland, and so +many in honor of Mickey Free himself,—that all respect for my +authority was lost in his enthusiasm for my greatness, and his shouts +became wilder, and the blasts from the trumpet more fearful and +incoherent; and finally, on the last stage of our journey, having +exhausted as it were every tribute of his lungs, he seemed (if I were to +judge by the evidence of my ears) to be performing something very like a +hornpipe on the roof of the chaise. +</p> +<p> +Happily for me there is a limit to all human efforts, and even <i>his</i> +powers at length succumbed; so that, when we arrived at Bristol, I +persuaded him to go to bed, and I once more was left to the enjoyment of +some quiet. To fill up the few hours which intervened before bedtime, I +strolled into the coffee room. The English look of every one, and +everything around, had still its charm for me; and I contemplated, with no +small admiration, that air of neatness and propriety so observant from the +bright-faced clock that ticked unwearily upon the mantelpiece, to the trim +waiter himself, with noiseless step and a mixed look of vigilance and +vacancy. The perfect stillness struck me, save when a deep voice called +for “another brandy-and-water,” and some more modestly-toned request would +utter a desire for “more cream.” The attention of each man, absorbed in +the folds of his voluminous newspaper, scarcely deigning a glance at the +new-comer who entered, was in keeping with the general surroundings,—giving, +in their solemnity and gravity, a character of almost religious +seriousness, to what, in any other land, would be a scene of riotous and +discordant tumult. I was watching all this with a more than common +interest, when the door opened, and the waiter entered with a large +placard. He was followed by another with a ladder, by whose assistance he +succeeded in attaching the large square of paper to the wall above the +fireplace. Every one about rose up, curious to ascertain what was going +forward; and I myself joined in the crowd around the fire. The first +glance of the announcement showed me what it meant; and it was with a +strange mixture of shame and confusion I read:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“<i>Fall of Ciudad Rodrigo: with a full and detailed account of the +storming of the great breach, capture of the enemy’s cannon, etc., by +Michael Free, 14th Light Dragoons</i>.” +</pre> +<p> +Leaving the many around me busied in conjecturing who the aforesaid Mr. +Free might be, and what peculiar opportunities he might have enjoyed for +his report, I hurried from the room and called the waiter. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the meaning of the announcement you’ve just put up in the +coffee-room? Where did it come from?” +</p> +<p> +“Most important news, sir; exclusively in the columns of the ‘<i>Bristol +Telegraph</i>,’—the gentleman has just arrived—” +</p> +<p> +“Who, pray? What gentleman?” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Free, sir, No. 13—large bed-room—blue damask—supper +for two—oysters—a devil—brandy-and-water-mulled port.” +</p> +<p> +“What the devil do you mean? Is the fellow at supper?” +</p> +<p> +Somewhat shocked by the tone I ventured to assume towards the illustrious +narrator, the waiter merely bowed his reply. +</p> +<p> +“Show me to his room,” said I; “I should like to see him.” +</p> +<p> +“Follow me, if you please, sir,—this way. What name shall I say, +sir?” +</p> +<p> +“You need not mind announcing me,—I’m an old acquaintance,—just +show me the room.” +</p> +<p> +“I beg pardon, sir, but Mr. Meekins, the editor of the ‘<i>Telegraph</i>,’ +is engaged with him at present; and positive orders are given not to +suffer any interruption.” +</p> +<p> +“No matter; do as I bid you. Is that it? Oh, I hear his voice. There, that +will do. You may go down-stairs, I’ll introduce myself.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0317.jpg" style="width:100%;" +alt="Captain Mickey Free Relating his Heroic Deeds. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +So saying, and slipping a crown into the waiter’s hand, I proceeded +cautiously towards the door, and opened it stealthily. My caution was, +however, needless; for a large screen was drawn across this part of the +room, completely concealing the door, closing which behind me, I took my +place beneath the shelter of this ambuscade, determined on no account to +be perceived by the parties. +</p> +<p> +Seated in a large arm-chair, a smoking tumbler of mulled port before him, +sat my friend Mike, dressed in my full regimentals, even to the helmet, +which, unfortunately however for the effect, he had put on back foremost; +a short “dudeen” graced his lip, and the trumpet so frequently alluded to +lay near him. +</p> +<p> +Opposite him sat a short, puny, round-faced little gentleman with rolling +eyes and a turned up nose. Numerous sheets of paper, pens, etc., lay +scattered about; and he evinced, by his air and gesture, the most marked +and eager attention to Mr. Free’s narrative, whose frequent interruptions, +caused by the drink and the oysters, were viewed with no small impatience +by the anxious editor. +</p> +<p> +“You must remember, Captain, time’s passing; the placards are all out. +Must be at press before one o’clock to-night,—the morning edition is +everything with us. You were at the first parallel, I think.” +</p> +<p> +“Devil a one o’ me knows. Just ring that bell near you. Them’s elegant +oysters; and you’re not taking your drop of liquor. Here’s a toast for +you: ‘May—’ Whoop! raal Carlingford’s, upon my conscience! See now, +if I won’t hit the little black chap up there the first shot.” +</p> +<p> +Scarcely were the words spoken, when a little painted bust of Shakespeare +fell in fragments on the floor, as an oyster-shell laid him low. +</p> +<p> +A faint effort at a laugh at the eccentricities of his friend was all the +poor editor could accomplish, while Mike’s triumph knew no bounds. +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t I tell you? But come now, are you ready? Give the pen a drink, if +you won’t take one yourself.” +</p> +<p> +“I am ready, quite ready,” responded the editor. +</p> +<p> +“Faith, and it’s more nor I am. See now, here it is: The night was +murthering dark; you could not see a stim.” +</p> +<p> +“Not see a—a what?” +</p> +<p> +“A stim, bad luck to you; don’t you know English? Hand me the hot water. +Have you that down yet?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Pray proceed.” +</p> +<p> +“The Fifth Division was orthered up, bekase they were fighting chaps; the +Eighty-eighth was among them; the Rangers—Oh, upon my soul, we must +drink the Rangers! Here, devil a one o’ me will go on till we give them +all the honors—Hip!—begin.” +</p> +<p> +“Hip!” sighed the luckless editor, as he rose from his chair, obedient to +the command. +</p> +<p> +“Hurra! hurra! hurra! Well done! There’s stuff in you yet, ould foolscap! +The little bottle’s empty; ring again, if ye plaze. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘Oh, Father Magan +Was a beautiful man, +But a bit of a rogue, a bit of a rogue! +He was just six feet high, +Had a cast in his eye, +And an illigint brogue, an illigint brogue! + +‘He was born in Killarney, +And reared up in blarney—’ +</pre> +<p> +“Arrah, don’t be looking miserable and dissolute that way. Sure, I’m only +screwing myself up for you; besides, you can print the song av you like. +It’s a sweet tune, ‘Teddy, you Gander,’” +</p> +<p> +“Really, Mr. Free, I see no prospect of our ever getting done.” +</p> +<p> +“The saints in Heaven forbid!” interrupted Mike, piously; “the evening’s +young, and drink plenty. Here now, make ready!” +</p> +<p> +The editor once more made a gesture of preparation. +</p> +<p> +“Well, as I was saying,” resumed Mike, “it was pitch dark when the columns +moved up, and a cold, raw night, with a little thin rain falling. Have you +that down?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Pray go on.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, just as it might be here, at the corner of the trench, I met Dr. +Quill. ‘They’re waiting for you, Mr. Free,’ says he, ‘down there. Picton’s +asking for you.’ ‘Faith, and he must wait,’ says I, ‘for I’m terrible +dry.’ With that, he pulled out his canteen and mixed me a little +brandy-and-water. ‘Are you taking it without a toast?’ says Doctor +Maurice. ‘Never fear,’ says I; ‘here’s Mary Brady—‘” +</p> +<p> +“But, my dear sir,” interposed Mr. Meekins, “pray <i>do</i> remember this +is somewhat irrelevant. In fifteen minutes it will be twelve o’clock.” +</p> +<p> +“I know it, ould boy, I know it. I see what you’re at. You were going to +observe how much better we’d be for a broiled bone.” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing of the kind, I assure you. For Heaven’s sake, no more eating and +drinking!” +</p> +<p> +“No more eating nor drinking! Why not? You’ve a nice notion of a convivial +evening. Faith, we’ll have the broiled bone sure enough, and, what’s more, +a half gallon of the strongest punch they can make us; an’ I hope that, +grave as you are, you’ll favor the company with a song.” +</p> +<p> +“Really, Mr. Free—” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, none of your blarney! Don’t be misthering me! Call me Mickey, or +Mickey Free, if you like better.” +</p> +<p> +“I protest,” said the editor, with dismay, “that here we are two hours at +work, and we haven’t got to the foot of the great breach.” +</p> +<p> +“And wasn’t the army three months and a half in just getting that far, +with a battering train and mortars and the finest troops ever were seen? +And there you sit, a little fat creature, with your pen in your hand, +grumbling that you can’t do more than the whole British army. Take care +you don’t provoke me to beat you; for I am quiet till I’m roused. But, by +the Rock o’ Cashel—” +</p> +<p> +Here he grasped the brass trumpet with an energy that made the editor +spring from his chair. +</p> +<p> +“For mercy’s sake, Mr. Free—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I won’t; but sit down there, and don’t be bothering me about sieges +and battles and things you know nothing about.” +</p> +<p> +“I protest,” rejoined Mr. Meekins, “that, had you not sent to my office +intimating your wish to communicate an account of the siege, I never +should have thought of intruding myself upon you. And now, since you +appear indisposed to afford the information in question, if you will +permit me, I’ll wish you a very good-night.” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, and so you shall, and help me to pass one too; for not a step out +o’ that chair shall you take till morning. Do ye think I am going to be +left here by myself all alone?” +</p> +<p> +“I must observe—” said Mr. Meekins. +</p> +<p> +“To be sure, to be sure,” said Mickey; “I see what you mean. You’re not +the best of company, it’s true; but at a pinch like this—There now, +take, your liquor.” +</p> +<p> +“Once for all, sir,” said the editor, “I would beg you to recollect that, +on the faith of your message to me, I have announced an account of the +storming of Ciudad Rodrigo for our morning edition. Are you prepared, may +I ask, for the consequences of my disappointing ten thousand readers?” +</p> +<p> +“It’s little I care for one of them. I never knew much of reading myself.” +</p> +<p> +“If you think to make a jest of me—” interposed Mr. Meekins, +reddening with passion. +</p> +<p> +“A jest of you! Troth, it’s little fun I can get out of you; you’re as +tiresome a creature as ever I spent an evening with. See now, I told you +before not to provoke me; we’ll have a little more drink; ring the bell. +Who knows but you’ll turn out better by-and-by?” +</p> +<p> +As Mike rose at these words to summon the waiter, Mr. Meekins seized the +opportunity to make his escape. Scarcely had he reached the door, however, +when he was perceived by Mickey, who hurled the trumpet at him with all +his force, while he uttered a shout that nearly left the poor editor +lifeless with terror. This time, happily, Mr. Free’s aim failed him, and +before he could arrest the progress of his victim, he had gained the +corridor, and with one bound, cleared the first flight of the staircase, +his pace increasing every moment as Mike’s denunciations grew louder and +louder, till at last, as he reached the street, Mr. Free’s delight +overcame his indignation, and he threw himself upon a chair and laughed +immoderately. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, may I never! if I didn’t frighten the editor. The little spalpeen +couldn’t eat his oysters and take his punch like a man. But sure if he +didn’t, there’s more left for his betters.” So saying, he filled himself a +goblet and drank it off. “Mr. Free, we won’t say much for your +inclinations, for maybe they are not the best; but here’s bad luck to the +fellow that doesn’t think you good company; and here,” added he, again +filling his glass,—“and here’s may the devil take editors and +authors and compositors, that won’t let us alone, but must be taking our +lives and our songs and our little devilments, that belongs to one’s own +family, and tell them all over the world. A lazy set of thieves you are, +every one of you; spending your time inventing lies, devil a more nor +less; and here,” this time he filled again,—“and here’s a hot corner +and Kilkenny coals, that’s half sulphur, to the villain—” +</p> +<p> +For what particular class of offenders Mike’s penal code was now devised, +I was not destined to learn; for overcome by punch and indignation, he +gave one loud whoop, and measured his length upon the floor. Having +committed him to the care of the waiters, from whom I learned more fully +the particulars of his acquaintance with Mr. Meekins, I enjoined them, +strictly, not to mention that I knew anything of the matter; and betook +myself to my bed sincerely rejoicing that in a few hours more Mike would +be again in that laud where even his eccentricities and excesses would be +viewed with a favorable and forgiving eye. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLI. +</h2> +<p> +IRELAND. +</p> +<p> +“You’d better call your master up,” said the skipper to Mickey Free, on +the second evening after our departure from Bristol; “he said he’d like to +have a look at the coast.” +</p> +<p> +The words were overheard by me, as I lay between sleeping and waking in +the cabin of the packet, and without waiting for a second invitation, I +rushed upon deck. The sun was setting, and one vast surface of yellow +golden light played upon the water, as it rippled beneath a gentle gale. +The white foam curled at our prow, and the rushing sound told the speed we +were going at. The little craft was staggering under every sheet of her +canvas, and her spars creaked as her white sails bent before the breeze. +Before us, but to my landsman’s eyes scarcely perceptible, were the +ill-defined outlines of cloudy darkness they called land, and which I +continued to gaze at with a strange sense of interest, while I heard the +names of certain well-known headlands assigned to apparently mere masses +of fog-bank and vapor. +</p> +<p> +He who has never been separated in early years, while yet the budding +affections of his heart are tender shoots, from the land of his birth and +of his home, knows nothing of the throng of sensations that crowd upon him +as he nears the shore of his country. The names, familiar as household +words, come with a train of long-buried thoughts; the feeling of +attachment to all we call our own—that patriotism of the heart—stirs +strongly within him, as the mingled thrills of hope and fear alternately +move him to joy or sadness. +</p> +<p> +Hard as are the worldly struggles between the daily cares of him who +carves out his own career and fortune, yet he has never experienced the +darkest poverty of fate who has not felt what it is to be a wanderer, +without a country to lay claim to. Of all the desolations that visit us, +this is the gloomiest and the worst. The outcast from the land of his +fathers, whose voice must never be heard within the walls where his +infancy was nurtured, nor his step be free upon the mountains where he +gambolled in his youth, this is indeed wretchedness. The instinct of +country grows and strengthens with our years; the joys of early life are +linked with it; the hopes of age point towards it; and he who knows not +the thrill of ecstasy some well-remembered, long-lost-sight-of place can +bring to his heart when returning after years of absence, is ignorant of +one of the purest sources of happiness of our nature. +</p> +<p> +With what a yearning of the heart, then, did I look upon the dim and misty +cliffs, that mighty framework of my island home, their stern sides lashed +by the blue waters of the ocean, and their summits lost within the clouds! +With what an easy and natural transition did my mind turn from the wild +mountains and the green valleys to their hardy sons, who toiled beneath +the burning sun of the Peninsula; and how, as some twinkling light of the +distant shore would catch my eye, did I wonder within myself whether +beside that hearth and board there might not sit some whose thoughts were +wandering over the sea beside the bold steeps of El Bodon, or the +death-strewn plain of Talavera,—their memories calling up some trait +of him who was the idol of his home; whose closing lids some fond mother +had watched over; above whose peaceful slumber her prayers had fallen; but +whose narrow bed was now beneath the breach of Badajos, and his sleep the +sleep that knows not waking! +</p> +<p> +I know not if in my sad and sorrowing spirit I did not envy him who thus +had met a soldier’s fate,—for what of promise had my own! My hopes +of being in any way instrumental to my poor uncle’s happiness grew hourly +less. His prejudices were deeply rooted and of long standing; to have +asked him to surrender any of what he looked upon as the prerogatives of +his house and name, would be to risk the loss of his esteem. What then +remained for me? Was I to watch, day by day and hour by hour, the falling +ruin of our fortunes? Was I to involve myself in the petty warfare of +unavailing resistance to the law? And could I stand aloof from my best, my +truest, my earliest friend, and see him, alone and unaided, oppose his +weak and final struggle to the unrelenting career of persecution. Between +these two alternatives the former could be my only choice; and what a +choice! +</p> +<p> +Oh, how I thought over the wild heroism of the battle-field, the reckless +fury of the charge, the crash, the death-cry, and the sad picture of the +morrow, when all was past, and a soldier’s glory alone remained to shed +its high halo over the faults and the follies of the dead. +</p> +<p> +As night fell, the twinkling of the distant lighthouses—some +throwing a column of light from the very verge of the horizon, others +shining brightly, like stars, from some lofty promontory—marked the +different outlines of the coast, and conveyed to me the memory of that +broken and wild mountain tract that forms the bulwark of the Green Isle +against the waves of the Atlantic. Alone and silently I trod the deck, now +turning to look towards the shore, where I thought I could detect the +position of some well-known headland, now straining my eyes seaward to +watch some bright and flitting star, as it rose from or merged beneath the +foaming water, denoting the track of the swift pilot-boat, or the hardy +lugger of the fisherman; while the shrill whistle of the floating sea-gull +was the only sound save the rushing waves that broke in spray upon our +quarter. +</p> +<p> +What is it that so inevitably inspires sad and depressing thoughts as we +walk the deck of some little craft in the silence of the night’s dark +hours? No sense of danger near, we hold on our course swiftly and +steadily, cleaving the dark waves and bending gracefully beneath the +freshening breeze. Yet still the motion, which, in the bright sunshine of +the noonday tells of joy and gladness, brings now no touch of pleasure to +our hearts. The dark and frowning sky, the boundless expanse of gloomy +water, spread like some gigantic pall around us, and our thoughts either +turn back upon the saddest features of the past or look forward to the +future with a sickly hope that all may not be as we fear it. +</p> +<p> +Mine were, indeed, of the gloomiest; and the selfishness alone of the +thought prevented me from wishing that, like many another, I had fallen by +a soldier’s death on the plains of the Peninsula! +</p> +<p> +As the night wore on, I wrapped myself in my cloak and lay down beneath +the bulwark. The whole of my past life came in review before me, and I +thought over my first meeting with Lucy Dashwood; the thrill of boyish +admiration gliding into love; the hopes, the fears, that stirred my heart; +the firm resolve to merit her affection, which made me a soldier. Alas, +how little thought she of him to whose whole life she had been a +guide-star and a beacon! And as I thought over the hard-fought fields, the +long, fatiguing marches, the nights around the watch-fires, and felt how, +in the whirl and enthusiasm of a soldier’s life, the cares and sorrows of +every day existence are forgotten, I shuddered to reflect upon the career +that might now open before me. To abandon, perhaps forever, the glorious +path I had been pursuing for a life of indolence and weariness, while my +name, that had already, by the chance of some fortunate circumstances, +begun to be mentioned with a testimony of approval, should be lost in +oblivion or remembered but as that of one whose early promise was not +borne out by the deeds of his manhood. +</p> +<p> +As day broke, overcome by watching, I slept, but was soon awoke by the +stir and bustle around me. The breeze had freshened, and we were running +under a reefed mainsail and foresail; and as the little craft bounded +above the blue water, the white foam crested above her prow, and ran in +boiling rivulets along towards the after-deck. The tramp of the seamen, +the hoarse voice of the captain, the shrill cry of the sea-birds, +betokened, however, nothing of dread or danger; and listlessly I leaned +upon my elbow and asked what was going forward. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing, sir; only making ready to drop our anchor.” +</p> +<p> +“Are we so near shore, then?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve only to round that point to windward, and have a clear run into +Cork harbor.” +</p> +<p> +I sprang at once to my legs. The land-fog prevented my seeing anything +whatever, but I thought that in the breeze, fresh and balmy as it blew, I +could feel the wind off shore. “At last,” said I,—“at last!” as I +stepped into the little wherry which shot alongside of us, and we glided +into the still basin of Cove. How I remember every white-walled cottage, +and the beetling cliffs, and that bold headland beside which the valley +opens, with its dark-green woods, and then Spike Island. And what a stir +is yonder, early as it is; the men-of-war tenders seem alive with people, +while still the little village is sunk in slumber, not a smoke-wreath +rising from its silent hearths. Every plash of the oars in the calm water +as I neared the land, every chance word of the bronzed and hardy +fisherman, told upon my heart. I felt it was my home. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it beautiful, sir? Isn’t it illigant?” said a voice behind me, +which there could be little doubt in my detecting, although I had not seen +the individual since I left England. +</p> +<p> +“Is not what beautiful?” replied I, rather harshly, at the interruption of +my own thoughts. +</p> +<p> +“Ireland, to be sure; and long life to her!” cried he, with a cheer that +soon found its responsive echoes in the hearts of our sailors, who +seconded the sentiment with all their energy. +</p> +<p> +“How am I to get up to Cork, lads?” said I. “I am pressed for time, and +must get forward.” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll row your honor the whole way, av it’s plazing to you.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, thank you, I’d rather find some quicker mode of proceeding.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe you’d have a chaise? There’s an elegant one at M’Cassidy’s.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure, the blind mare’s in foal,” said the bow oar. “The devil a step she +can go out of a walk; so, your honor, take Tim Riley’s car, and you’ll get +up cheap. Not that you care for money; but he’s going up at eight o’clock +with two young ladies.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, be-gorra!” said the other, “and so he is. And faix, ye might do +worse; they’re nice craytures.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said I, “your advice seems good; but perhaps they might object to +my company.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve no fear; they’re always with the officers. Sure, the Miss Dalrymples—” +</p> +<p> +“The Miss Dalrymples! Push ahead, boys; it must be later than I thought. +We must get the chaise; I can’t wait.” +</p> +<p> +Ten minutes more brought us to land. +</p> +<p> +My arrangements were soon made, and as my impatience to press forward +became greater the nearer I drew to my destination, I lost not a moment. +</p> +<p> +The yellow chaise—sole glory of Cove—was brought forth at my +request; and by good fortune, four posters which had been down the +preceding evening from Cork to some gentleman’s seat near were about to +return. These were also pressed into my service; and just as the first +early riser of the little village was drawing his curtain to take a +half-closed eye-glance upon the breaking morning, I rattled forth upon my +journey at a pace which, could I only have secured its continuance, must +soon have terminated my weary way. +</p> +<p> +Beautiful as the whole line of country is, I was totally unconscious of +it; and even Mike’s conversational powers, divided as they were between +myself and the two postilions, were fruitless in arousing me from the deep +pre-occupation of my mind by thoughts of home. +</p> +<p> +It was, then, with some astonishment I heard the boy upon the wheeler ask +whither he should drive me to. +</p> +<p> +“Tell his honor to wake up; we’re in Cork now.” +</p> +<p> +“In Cork! Impossible, already!” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, may be so; but it’s Cork, sure enough.” +</p> +<p> +“Drive to the ‘George.’ It’s not far from the commander-in-chief’s +quarters.” +</p> +<p> +“‘Tis five minutes’ walk, sir. You’ll be there before they’re put to +again.” +</p> +<p> +“Horses for Fermoy!” shouted out the postilions, as we tore up to the door +in a gallop. I sprang out, and by the assistance of the waiter, discovered +Sir Henry Howard’s quarters, to whom my despatches were addressed. Having +delivered them into the hands of an aide-de-camp, who sat bolt upright in +his bed, rubbing his eyes to appear awake, I again hurried down-stairs, +and throwing myself into the chaise, continued my journey. +</p> +<p> +“Them’s beautiful streets, any how!” said Mike, “av they wasn’t kept so +dirty, and the houses so dark, and the pavement bad. That’s Mr. Beamish’s, +that fine house there with the brass rapper and the green lamp beside it; +and there’s the hospital. Faix, and there’s the place we beat the police +when I was here before; and the house with the sign of the Highlander is +thrown down; and what’s the big building with the stone posts at the +door?” +</p> +<p> +“The bank, sir,” said the postilion, with a most deferential air as Mike +addressed him. “What bank, acushla?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a one of me knows, sir; but they call it the bank, though it’s only +an empty house.” +</p> +<p> +“Cary and Moore’s bank, perhaps?” said I, having heard that in days long +past some such names had failed in Cork for a large amount. +</p> +<p> +“So it is; your honor’s right,” cried the postilion; while Mike, standing +up on the box, and menacing the house with his clinched fist, shouted out +at the very top of his voice: +</p> +<p> +“Oh, bad luck to your cobwebbed windows and iron railings! Sure, it’s my +father’s son ought to hate the sight of you.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope, Mike, your father never trusted his property in such hands?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t suspect he did, your honor. He never put much belief in the +banks; but the house cost him dear enough without that.” +</p> +<p> +As I could not help feeling some curiosity in this matter, I pressed +Mickey for an explanation. +</p> +<p> +“But maybe it’s not Cary and Moore’s, after all; and I may be cursing +dacent people.” +</p> +<p> +Having reassured his mind by telling him that the reservation he made by +the doubt would tell in their favor should he prove mistaken, he afforded +me the following information:— +</p> +<p> +“When my father—the heavens be his bed!—was in the ‘Cork,’ +they put him one night on guard at that same big house you just passed, av +it was the same; but if it wasn’t that, it was another. And it was a +beautiful fine night in August and the moon up, and plenty of people +walking about, and all kinds of fun and devilment going on,—drinking +and dancing and everything. +</p> +<p> +“Well, my father was stuck up there with his musket, to walk up and down, +and not say, ‘God save you kindly,’ or the time of day or anything, but +just march as if he was in the barrack-yard; and by reason of his being +the man he was he didn’t like it half, but kept cursing and swearing to +himself like mad when he saw pleasant fellows and pretty girls going by, +laughing and joking. +</p> +<p> +“‘Good-evening, Mickey,’ says one. ‘Fine sport ye have all to yourself, +with your long feather in your cap.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Arrah, look how proud he is,’ says another, ‘with his head up as if he +didn’t see a body.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Shoulder, hoo!’ cried a drunken chap, with a shovel in his hand. Then +they all began laughing away at my father. +</p> +<p> +“‘Let the dacent man alone,’ said an ould fellow in a wig. ‘Isn’t he +guarding the bank, wid all the money in it?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Faix, he isn’t,’ says another; ‘for there’s none left.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What’s that you’re saying?’ says my father. +</p> +<p> +“‘Just that the bank’s broke; devil a more!’ says he. +</p> +<p> +“‘And there’s no goold in it?’ says my father. +</p> +<p> +‘“Divil a guinea.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Nor silver?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘No, nor silver; nor as much as sixpence, either.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Didn’t ye hear that all day yesterday when the people was coming in with +their notes, the chaps there were heating the guineas in a frying-pan, +pretending that they were making them as fast as they could; and sure, +when they had a batch red-hot they spread them out to cool; and what +betune the hating and the cooling, and the burning the fingers counting +them, they kept the bank open to three o’clock, and then they ran away.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Is it truth yer telling?’ says my father. +</p> +<p> +“‘Sorra word o’ lie in it! Myself had two-and-fourpence of their notes.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And so they’re broke,’ says my father, ‘and nothing left?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Not a brass farden.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And what am I staying here for, I wonder, if there’s nothing to guard?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Faix, if it isn’t for the pride of the thing—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, sorra taste!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, may be for divarsion.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Nor that either.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Faix, then you’re a droll man, to spend the evening that way,’ says he; +and all the crowd—for there was a crowd—said the same. So with +that my father unscrewed his bayonet, and put his piece on his shoulder, +and walked off to his bed in the barrack as peaceable as need be. But +well, when they came to relieve him, wasn’t there a raal commotion? And +faith, you see, it went mighty hard with my father the next morning; for +the bank was open just as usual, and my father was sintinced to fifty +lashes, but got off with a week in prison, and three more rowling a big +stone in the barrack-yard.” +</p> +<p> +Thus chatting away, the time passed over, until we arrived at Fermoy. Here +there was some little delay in procuring horses; and during the +negotiation, Mike, who usually made himself master of the circumstances of +every place through which he passed, discovered that the grocer’s shop of +the village was kept by a namesake, and possibly a relation of his own. +</p> +<p> +“I always had a notion, Mister Charles, that I came from a good stock; and +sure enough, here’s ‘Mary Free’ over the door there, and a beautiful place +inside; full of tay and sugar and gingerbread and glue and coffee and +bran, pickled herrings, soap, and many other commodities.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps you’d like to claim kindred, Mike,” said I, interrupting; “I’m +sure she’d feel flattered to discover a relative in a Peninsular hero.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s just what I’m thinking; av we were going to pass the evening here, +I’d try if I couldn’t make her out a second cousin at least.” +</p> +<p> +Fortune, upon this occasion, seconded Mike’s wishes, for when the horses +made their appearance, I learned, to my surprise, that the near side one +would not bear a saddle, and the off-sider could only run on his own side. +In this conjuncture, the postilion was obliged to drive from what, <i>Hibernicè</i> +speaking, is called the perch,—no ill-applied denomination to a +piece of wood which, about the thickness of one’s arm, is hung between the +two fore-springs, and serves as a resting-place in which the luckless +wight, weary of the saddle, is not sorry to repose himself. +</p> +<p> +“What’s to be done?” cried I. “There’s no room within; my traps barely +leave space for myself among them.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure, sir,” said the postilion, “the other gentleman can follow in the +morning coach; and if any accident happens to yourself on the road, by +reason of a break-down, he’ll be there as soon as yourself.” +</p> +<p> +This, at least, was an agreeable suggestion, and as I saw it chimed with +Mike’s notions, I acceded at once; he came running up at the moment. +</p> +<p> +“I had a peep at her through the window, Mister Charles, and, faix, she +has a great look of the family.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Mickey, I’ll leave you twenty-four hours to cultivate the +acquaintance; and to a man like you the time, I know, is ample. Follow me +by the morning’s coach. Till then, good-by.” +</p> +<p> +Away we rattled once more, and soon left the town behind us. The wild +mountain tract which stretched on either side of the road presented one +bleak and brown surface, unrelieved by any trace of tillage or habitation; +an apparently endless succession of fern-clad hills lay on every side; +above, the gloomy sky of leaden, lowering aspect, frowned darkly; the sad +and wailing cry of the pewet or the plover was the only sound that broke +the stillness, and far as the eye could reach, a dreary waste extended. +The air, too, was cold and chilly; it was one of those days which, in our +springs, seemed to cast a retrospective glance towards the winter they +have left behind them. The prospect was no cheering one; from heaven above +or earth below there came no sight nor sound of gladness. The rich glow of +the Peninsular landscape was still fresh in my memory,—the luxurious +verdure; the olive, the citron, and the vine; the fair valleys teeming +with abundance; the mountains terraced with their vineyards; the blue +transparent sky spreading o’er all; while the very air was rife with the +cheering song of birds that peopled every grove. What a contrast was here! +We travelled on for miles, but no village nor one human face did we see. +Far in the distance a thin wreath of smoke curled upward; but it came from +no hearth; it arose from one of those field-fires by which spendthrift +husbandry cultivates the ground. It was, indeed, sad; and yet, I know not +how, it spoke more home to my heart than all the brilliant display and all +the voluptuous splendor I had witnessed in London. By degrees some traces +of wood made their appearance, and as we descended the mountain towards +Cahir, the country assumed a more cultivated and cheerful look,—patches +of corn or of meadow-land stretched on either side, and the voice of +children and the lowing of oxen mingled with the cawing of the rooks, as +in dense clouds they followed the ploughman’s track. The changed features +of the prospect resembled the alternate phases of temperament of the +dweller on the soil,—the gloomy determination; the smiling +carelessness; the dark spirit of boding; the reckless jollity; the almost +savage ferocity of purpose, followed by a child-like docility and a +womanly softness; the grave, the gay, the resolute, the fickle; the firm, +the yielding, the unsparing, and the tender-hearted,—blending their +contrarieties into one nature, of whose capabilities one cannot predicate +the bounds, but to whom, by some luckless fatality of fortune, the great +rewards of life have been generally withheld until one begins to feel that +the curse of Swift was less the sarcasm wrung from indignant failures than +the cold and stern prophecy of the moralist. +</p> +<p> +But how have I fallen into this strain! Let me rather turn my eyes forward +towards my home. How shall I find all there? Have his altered fortunes +damped the warm ardor of my poor uncle’s heart? Is his smile sicklied over +by sorrow; or shall I hear his merry laugh and his cheerful voice as in +days of yore? How I longed to take my place beside that hearth, and in the +same oak-chair where I have sat telling the bold adventures of a fox-chase +or some long day upon the moors, speak of the scenes of my campaigning +life, and make known to him those gallant fellows by whose side I have +charged in battle, or sat in the bivouac! How will he glory in the +soldier-like spirit and daring energy of Fred Power! How will he chuckle +over the blundering earnestness and Irish warmth of O’Shaughnessy! How +will he laugh at the quaint stories and quainter jests of Maurice Quill! +And how often will he wish once more to be young in hand as in heart to +mingle with such gay fellows, with no other care, no other sorrow, to +depress him, save the passing fortune of a soldier’s life! +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLII. +</h2> +<p> +THE RETURN. +</p> +<p> +A rude shock awoke me as I lay asleep in the corner of the chaise; a shout +followed, and the next moment the door was torn open, and I heard the +postilion’s voice crying to me:— +</p> +<p> +“Spring out! Jump out quickly, sir!” +</p> +<p> +A whole battery of kicks upon the front panel drowned the rest of his +speech; but before I could obey his injunction, he was pitched upon the +road, the chaise rolled over and the pole snapped short in the middle, +while the two horses belabored the carriage and each other with all their +might. Managing, as well as I was able, to extricate myself, I leaped out +upon the road, and by the aid of a knife, and at the cost of some bruises, +succeeded in freeing the horses from their tackle. The postboy, who had +escaped without any serious injury, labored manfully to aid me, blubbering +the whole time upon the consequences his misfortune would bring down upon +his head. +</p> +<p> +“Bad luck to ye!” cried he, apostrophizing the off-horse, a tall, +raw-boned beast, with a Roman nose, a dipped back, and a tail ragged and +jagged like a hand-saw,—“bad luck to ye! there never was a good one +of your color!” +</p> +<p> +This, for the information of the “unjockeyed,” I may add, was a species of +brindled gray. +</p> +<p> +“How did it happen, Patsey; how did it happen, my lad?” +</p> +<p> +“It was the heap o’ stones they left in the road since last autumn; and +though I riz him at it fairly, he dragged the ould mare over it and broke +the pole. Oh, wirra, wirra!” cried he, wringing his hands in an agony of +grief, “sure there’s neither luck nor grace to be had with ye since the +day ye drew the judge down to the last assizes!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, what’s to be done?” +</p> +<p> +“Sorra a bit o’ me knows; the shay’s ruined intirely, and the ould divil +there knows he’s conquered us. Look at him there, listening to every word +we’re saying! You eternal thief, may be its ploughing you’d like better!” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come,” said I, “this will never get us forward. What part of the +country are we in?” +</p> +<p> +“We left Banagher about four miles behind us; that’s Killimur you see with +the smoke there in the hollow.” +</p> +<p> +Now, although I did not see Killimur (for the gray mist of the morning +prevented me recognizing any object a few hundred yards distant), yet from +the direction in which he pointed, and from the course of the Shannon, +which I could trace indistinctly, I obtained a pretty accurate notion of +where we were. +</p> +<p> +“Then we are not very far from Portumna?” +</p> +<p> +“Just a pleasant walk before your breakfast.” +</p> +<p> +“And is there not a short cut to O’Malley Castle over that mountain?” +</p> +<p> +“Faix, and so there is; and ye can be no stranger to these parts if ye +know that.” +</p> +<p> +“I have travelled it before now. Just tell me, is the wooden bridge +standing over the little stream? It used to be carried away every winter +in my time.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s just the same now. You’ll have to pass by the upper ford; but it +comes to the same, for that will bring you to the back gate of the +demesne, and one way is just as short as the other.” +</p> +<p> +“I know it, I know it; so now, do you follow me with my luggage to the +castle, and I’ll set out on foot.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, I threw off my cloak, and prepared myself for a sharp walk of +some eight miles over the mountain. As I reached the little knoll of land +which, overlooking the Shannon, affords a view of several miles in every +direction, I stopped to gaze upon the scene where every object around was +familiar to me from infancy: the broad, majestic river, sweeping in bold +curves between the wild mountains of Connaught and the wooded hills and +cultivated slopes of the more fertile Munster, the tall chimneys of many a +house rose above the dense woods where in my boyhood I had spent hours and +days of happiness. One last look I turned towards the scene of my late +catastrophe ere I began to descend the mountain. The postboy, with the +happy fatalism of his country, and a firm trust in the future, had +established himself in the interior of the chaise, from which a blue curl +of smoke wreathed upward from his pipe; the horses grazed contentedly by +the roadside; and were I to judge from the evidence before me, I should +say that I was the only member of the party inconvenienced by the +accident. A thin sleeting of rain began to fall; the wind blew sharply in +my face, and the dark clouds, collecting in masses above, seemed to +threaten a storm. Without stopping for even a passing look at the many +well-known spots about, I pressed rapidly on. My old experience upon the +moors had taught me that sling trot in which jumping from hillock to +hillock over the boggy surface, you succeed in accomplishing your journey +not only with considerable speed, but perfectly dryshod. +</p> +<p> +By the lonely path which I travelled, it was unlikely I should meet any +one. It was rarely traversed except by the foot of the sportsman, or some +stray messenger from the castle to the town of Banagher. Its solitude, +however, was in no wise distasteful to me; my heart was full to bursting. +Each moment as I walked some new feature of my home presented itself +before me. Now it was all happiness and comfort; the scene of its ancient +hospitable board, its warm hearth, its happy faces, and its ready welcome +were all before me, and I increased my speed to the utmost, when suddenly +a sense of sad and sorrowing foreboding would draw around me, and the +image of my uncle’s sick-bed, his worn features, his pallid look, his +broken voice would strike upon my heart, and all the changes that poverty, +desertion, and decay can bring to pass would fall upon my heart, and weak +and trembling I would stand for some moments unable to proceed. +</p> +<p> +Oh, how many a reproachful thought came home to me at what I scrupled not +to call to myself the desertion of my home! Oh, how many a prayer I +uttered, in all the fervor of devotion, that my selfish waywardness and my +yearning for ambition might not bring upon me, in after-life, years of +unavailing regret! As I thought thus, I reached the brow of a little +mountain ridge, beneath which, at a distance of scarcely more than a mile, +the dark woods of O’Malley Castle stretched, before me. The house itself +was not visible, for it was situated in a valley beside the river. But +there lay the whole scene of my boyhood: there the little creek where my +boat was kept, and where I landed on the morning after my duel with +Bodkin; there stretched for many a mile the large, callow meadows, where I +trained my horses, and schooled them for the coming season; and far in the +distance, the brown and rugged peak of old Scariff was lost in the clouds. +The rain by this time had ceased, the wind had fallen, and an almost +unnatural stillness prevailed around; but yet the heavy masses of vapor +frowned ominously, and the leaden hue of land and water wore a gloomy and +depressing aspect. My impatience to get on increased every moment, and +descending the mountain at the top of my speed, I at length reached the +little oak paling that skirted the wood, opened the little wicket, and +entered the path. It was the self-same one I had trod in revery and +meditation the night before I left my home. I remember, too, sitting down +beside the little well which, enclosed in a frame of rock, ran trickling +across the path to be lost among the gnarled roots and fallen leaves +around. Yes, this was the very spot. +</p> +<p> +Overcome for the instant by my exertion and by my emotion, I sat down upon +the stone, and taking off my cap, bathed my heated and throbbing temples +in the cold spring, Refreshed at once, I was about to rise and press +onward, when suddenly my attention was caught by a sound which, faint from +distance, scarce struck upon my ear. I listened again; but all was still +and silent, the dull splash of the river as it broke upon the reedy shore +was the only sound I heard. Thinking it probably some mere delusion of my +heated imagination, I rose to push forward; but at the moment a slight +breeze stirred in the leaves around me, the light branches rustled and +bent beneath it, and a low moaning sound swelled upward, increasing each +instant as it came; like the distant roar of some mighty torrent it grew +louder as the wind bore it towards me, and now falling, now swelling, it +burst forth into one loud, prolonged cry of agony and grief. O God! it was +the death-wail! I fell upon my knees, my hands clasped in agony; the sweat +of misery dropped off my brow, and with a heart bleeding and breaking I +prayed—I know not what. Again the terrible cry smote upon my ear, +and I could mark the horrible cadences of the death-song, as the voices of +the mourners joined in chorus. +</p> +<p> +My suspense became too great to bear. I dashed madly forward, one sound +still ringing in my ears, one horrid image before my eyes. I reached the +garden wall; I cleared the little rivulet beside the flower-garden; I +traversed its beds (neglected and decayed); I gained the avenue, taking no +heed of the crowds before me,—some on foot, some on horseback, +others mounted upon the low country car, many seated in groups upon the +grass, their heads bowed upon their bosoms, silent and speechless. As I +neared the house the whole approach was crowded with carriages and +horsemen. At the foot of the large flight of steps stood the black and +mournful hearse, its plumes nodding in the breeze. With the speed of +madness and the recklessness of despair I tore my way through the thickly +standing groups upon the steps; I could not speak, I could not utter. Once +more the frightful cry swelled upward, and in its wild notes seemed to +paralyze me; for with my hands upon my temples, I stood motionless and +still. A heavy footfall as of persons marching in procession came nearer +and nearer, and as the sounds without sank into sobs of bitterness and +woe, the black pall of a coffin, borne on men’s shoulders, appeared at the +door, and an old man whose gray hair floated in the breeze, and across +whose stern features a struggle for self-mastery—a kind of spasmodic +effort—was playing, held out his hand to enforce silence. His eye, +lack-lustre and dimmed with age, roved over the assembled multitude, but +there was no recognition in his look until at last he turned it on me. A +slight hectic flush colored his pale cheek, his lip trembled, he essayed +to speak, but could not. I sprang towards him, but choked by agony, I +could not utter; my look, however, spoke what my tongue could not. He +threw his arms around me, and muttering the words, “Poor Godfrey!” pointed +to the coffin. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLIII. +</h2> +<p> +HOME. +</p> +<p> +Many, many years have passed away since the time I am now about to speak +of, and yet I cannot revert, even for a moment, to the period without a +sad and depressing feeling at my heart. The wreck of fortune, the +thwarting of ambition, the failure in enterprise, great though they be, +are endurable evils. The never-dying hope that youth is blessed with will +find its resting-place still within the breast, and the baffled and beaten +will struggle on unconquered; but for the death of friends, for the loss +of those in whom our dearest affections were centred, there is no solace,—the +terrible “never” of the grave knows no remorse, and even memory, that in +our saddest hours can bring bright images and smiling faces before us, +calls up here only the departed shade of happiness, a passing look at that +Eden of our joys from which we are separated forever. And the desolation +of the heart is never perfect till it has felt the echoes of a last +farewell on earth reverberating within it. +</p> +<p> +Oh, with what tortures of self-reproach we think of all former intercourse +with him that is gone! How would we wish to live our lives once more, +correcting each passage of unkindness or neglect! How deeply do we blame +ourselves for occasions of benefit lost, and opportunities unprofited by; +and how unceasingly, through after-life, the memory of the departed recurs +to us! In all the ties which affection and kindred weave around us, one +vacant spot is there, unseen and unknown by others, which no blandishments +of love, no caresses of friendship can fill up; although the rank grass +and the tall weeds of the churchyard may close around the humble tomb, the +cemetery of the heart is holy and sacred, pure from all the troubled +thoughts and daily cares of the busy world. To that hallowed spot do we +retire as into our chamber, and when unrewarded efforts bring discomfiture +and misery to our minds, when friends are false, and cherished hopes are +blasted, we think on those who never ceased to love till they had ceased +to live; and in the lonely solitude of our affliction we call upon those +who hear not, and may never return. +</p> +<p> +Mine was a desolate hearth. I sat moodily down in the old oak parlor, my +heart bowed down with grief. The noiseless steps, the mourning garments of +the old servants; the unnatural silence of those walls within which from +my infancy the sounds of merriment and mirth had been familiar; the large +old-fashioned chair where he was wont to sit, now placed against the wall,—all +spoke of the sad past. Yet, when some footsteps would draw near, and the +door would open, I could not repress a thrill of hope that he was coming; +more than once I rushed to the window and looked out; I could have sworn I +heard his voice. +</p> +<p> +The old cob pony he used to ride was grazing peacefully before the door; +poor Carlo, his favorite spaniel, lay stretched upon the terrace, turning +ever and anon a look towards the window, and then, as if wearied of +watching for him who came not, he would utter a long, low, wailing cry, +and lie down again to sleep. The rich lawn, decked with field flowers of +many a hue, stretched away towards the river, upon whose calm surface the +white-sailed lugger scarce seemed to move; the sounds of a well-known +Irish air came, softened by distance, as some poor fisherman sat mending +his net upon the bank, and the laugh of children floated on the breeze. +Yes, they were happy. +</p> +<p> +Two months had elapsed since my return home; how passed by me I know not; +a lethargic stupor had settled upon me. Whole days long I sat at the +window, looking listlessly at the tranquil river, and watching the white +foam as, borne down from the rapids, it floated lazily along. The count +had left me soon, being called up to Dublin by some business, and I was +utterly alone. The different families about called frequently to ask after +me, and would, doubtless, have done all in their power to alleviate my +sorrow, and lighten the load of my affliction; but with a morbid fear, I +avoided every one, and rarely left the house except at night-fall, and +then only to stroll by some lonely and deserted path. +</p> +<p> +Life had lost its charm for me; my gratified ambition had ended in the +blackest disappointment, and all for which I had labored and longed was +only attained that I might feel it valueless. +</p> +<p> +Of my circumstances as to fortune I knew nothing, and cared not more; +poverty and riches could matter little now; all my day dreams were +dissipated now, and I only waited for Considine’s return to leave Ireland +forever. I had made up my mind, if by any unexpected turn of fate the war +should cease in the Peninsula, to exchange into an Indian regiment. The +daily association with objects which recalled but one image to my brain, +and that ever accompanied by remorse of conscience, gave me not a moment’s +peace. My every thought of happiness was mixed up with scenes which now +presented nothing but the evidences of blighted hope; to remain, then, +where I was, would be to sink into the heartless misanthropist, and I +resolved that with my sword I would carve out a soldier’s fortune and a +soldier’s grave. +</p> +<p> +Considine came at last. I was sitting alone, at my usual post beside the +window, when the chaise rattled up to the door; for an instant I started +to my legs; a vague sense of something like hope shot through me, the +whole might be a dream, and <i>he</i>—The next moment I became cold +and sick, a faintish giddiness obscured my sight, and though I felt his +grasp as he took my hand, I saw him not. An indistinct impression still +dwells upon my mind of his chiding me for my weakness in thus giving way; +of his calling upon me to assert my position, and discharge the duties of +him whose successor I now was. I heard him in silence; and when he +concluded, faintly pledging myself to obey him, I hurried to my room, and +throwing myself upon my bed burst into an agony of tears. Hitherto my pent +up sorrow had wasted me day by day; but the rock was now smote, and in +that gush of misery my heart found relief. +</p> +<p> +When I appeared the following morning, the count was struck with my +altered looks; a settled sorrow could not conceal the changes which time +and manhood had made upon me; and as from a kind of fear of showing how +deeply I grieved, I endeavored to conceal it, by degrees I was enabled to +converse calmly and dispassionately upon my fortunes. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Godfrey,” said he, “appointed me his sole executor a few days before +it happened; he knew the time was drawing near, and strange enough, +Charley, though he heard of your return to England, he would not let us +write. The papers spoke of you as being at Carlton House almost daily; +your name appeared at every great festival; and while his heart warmed at +your brilliant success, he absolutely dreaded your coming home. ‘Poor +fellow,’ he would say, ‘what a change for him, to leave the splendor and +magnificence of his Prince’s board for our meagre fare and altered +fortunes! And then,’ he added, ‘as for me—God forgive me!—I +can go now; but how should I bear to part with him if he comes back to +me.’ And now,” said the count, when he had concluded a detailed history of +my dear uncle’s last illness,—“and now, Charley, what are your +plans?” +</p> +<p> +Briefly, and in a few words, I stated to him my intentions. Without +placing much stress upon the strongest of my reasons—my distaste to +what had once been home—I avowed my wish to join my regiment at +once. +</p> +<p> +He heard me with evident impatience, and as I finished, seized my arm in +his strong grasp. “No, no, boy, none of this; your tone of assumed +composure cannot impose on Bill Considine. You must not return to the +Peninsula—at least not yet awhile; the disgust of life may be strong +at twenty, but it’s not lasting; besides, Charley,” here his voice +faltered slightly, “<i>his</i> wishes you’ll not treat lightly. Read +this.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, he took a blotted and ill-written letter from his +breast-pocket, and handed it to me. It was in my poor uncle’s hand, and +dated the very morning of his death. It ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dear Bill,—Charley must never part with the old house, +come what will; I leave too many ties behind for a stranger’s heritage; +he must live among my old friends, and watch, protect +and comfort them. He has done enough for fame; let him now +do something for affection. We have none of us been over good +to these poor people; one of the name must try and save our +credit. God bless you both! It is, perhaps, the last time I shall +utter it. + +G. O’M. +</pre> +<p> +I read these few and, to me, affecting lines over and over, forgetful of +all save of him who penned them; when Considine, who supposed that my +silence was attributable to doubt and hesitation, called out:— +</p> +<p> +“Well, what now?” +</p> +<p> +“I remain,” said I, briefly. +</p> +<p> +He seized me in his arms with transport, as he said:— +</p> +<p> +“I knew it, boy, I knew it. They told me you were spoiled by flattery, and +your head turned by fortune; they said that home and country would weigh +lightly in the balance against fame and glory; but I said no, I knew you +better. I told them indignantly that I had nursed you on my knee; that I +watched you from infancy to boyhood, from boy to man; that he of whose +stock you came had one feeling paramount to all, his love of his own +fatherland, and that you would not disgrace him. Besides, Charley, there’s +not an humble hearth for many a long mile around us, where, amidst the +winter’s blast, tempered not excluded, by frail walls and poverty,—there’s +not one such but where poor Godfrey’s name rises each night in prayer, and +blessings are invoked on him by those who never felt them themselves.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll not desert them.” +</p> +<p> +“I know you’ll not, boy, I know you’ll not. Now for the means.” +</p> +<p> +Here he entered into a long and complicated exposure of my dear uncle’s +many difficulties, by which it appeared that, in order to leave the estate +free of debt to me, he had for years past undergone severe privations. +These, however,—such is the misfortune of an unguided effort,—had +but ill succeeded, and there was scarcely a farm on the property without +its mortgage. Upon the house and demesne a bond for three thousand pounds +still remained; and to pay off this, Considine advised my selling a +portion of the property. +</p> +<p> +“It’s old Blake lent the money; and only a week before your uncle died, he +served a notice for repayment. I never told Godfrey; it was no use. It +could only embitter his last few hours; and, besides, we had six months to +think of it. The half of that time has now elapsed, however; we must see +to this.” +</p> +<p> +“And did Blake really make this demand, knowing my poor uncle’s +difficulties?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, I half think he did not; for Godfrey was too fine a fellow ever to +acknowledge anything of the sort. He had twelve sheep killed for the poor +in Scariff, at a time when not a servant of the house tasted meat for +months; ay, and our own table, too, none of the most abundant, I assure +you.” +</p> +<p> +What a picture was this, and how forcibly did it remind me of what I had +witnessed in times past. Thus meditating, we returned to the house; and +Considine, whose activity never slumbered, sat down to con over the +rent-roll with old Maguire the steward. +</p> +<p> +When I joined the count in the evening, I found him surrounded by maps, +rent-rolls, surveys, and leases. He had been poring over these various +documents, to ascertain from which portion of the property we could best +recruit our failing finances. To judge from the embarrassed look and +manner with which he met me, the matter was one of no small difficulty. +The encumbrances upon the estate had been incurred with an unsparing hand; +and except where some irreclaimable tract of bog or mountain rendered a +loan impracticable, each portion of the property had its share of debt. +</p> +<p> +“You can’t sell Killantry, for Basset has above six thousand pounds on it +already. To be sure, there’s the Priest’s Meadows,—fine land and in +good heart; but Malony was an old tenant of the family, and I cannot +recommend your turning him over to a stranger. The widow M’Bride’s farm is +perhaps the best, after all, and it would certainly bring the sum we want; +still, poor Mary was your nurse, Charley, and it would break her heart to +do it.” +</p> +<p> +Thus, wherever we turned, some obstacle presented itself, if not from +moneyed causes, at least from those ties and associations which, in an +attached and faithful tenantry, are sure to grow up between them and the +owner of the soil. +</p> +<p> +Feeling how all-important these things were—endeavoring as I was to +fulfil the will and work out the intentions of my uncle—I saw at +once that to sell any portion of the property must separate me, to a +certain extent, from those who long looked up to our house, and who, in +the feudalism of the west, could ill withdraw their allegiance from their +own chief to swear fealty to a stranger. The richer tenants were those +whose industry and habits rendered them objects of worth and attachment; +to the poorer ones, to whose improvidence and whose follies (if you will) +their poverty was owing, I was bound by those ties which the ancient habit +of my house had contracted for centuries. The bond of benefit conferred +can be stronger than the debt of gratitude itself. What was I then to do? +My income would certainly permit of my paying the interest upon my several +mortgages, and still retaining wherewithal to live; the payment of Blake’s +bond was my only difficulty, and small as it was, it was still a +difficulty. +</p> +<p> +“I have it, Charley!” said Considine; “I’ve found out the way of doing it. +Blake will have no objection, I’m sure, to take the widow’s farm in +payment of his debt, giving you a power of redemption within five years. +In that time, what with economy, some management, perhaps,” added he, +smiling slightly,—“perhaps a wife with money may relieve all your +embarrassments at once. Well, well, I know you are not thinking of that +just now; but come, what say you to my plan?” +</p> +<p> +“I know not well what to say. It seems to be the best; but still I have my +misgivings.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course you have, my boy; nor could I love you if you’d part with an +old and faithful follower without them. But, after all, she is only a +hostage to the enemy; we’ll win her back, Charley.” +</p> +<p> +“If you think so—” +</p> +<p> +“I do. I know it.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, be it so; only one thing I bargain,—she must herself +consent to this change of masters. It will seem to her a harsh measure +that the child she had nursed and fondled in her arms should live to +disunite her from those her oldest attachments upon earth. We must take +care, sir, that Blake cannot dispossess her; this would be too hard.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no; that we’ll guard against. And now, Charley, with prudence and +caution, we’ll clear off every encumbrance, and O’Malley Castle shall yet +be what it was in days of yore. Ay, boy, with the descendant of the old +house for its master, and not that general—how do you call him?—that +came down here to contest the county, who with his offer of thirty +thousand pounds thought to uproot the oldest family of the west. Did I +ever show you the letter we wrote him?” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir,” replied I, trembling with agitation as I spoke; “you merely +alluded to it in one of yours.” +</p> +<p> +“Look here, lad!” said he, drawing it from the recesses of a black leather +pocket-book. “I took a copy of it; read that.” +</p> +<p> +The document was dated, “O’Malley Castle, December 9th.” It ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Sir,—I have this moment learned from my agent, that you, or +some one empowered by you for the purpose, made an offer of several +thousand pounds to buy up the different mortgages upon my property, +with a subsequent intention of becoming its possessor. Now, sir, I +beg to tell you, that if your ungentlemanlike and underhand plot +had succeeded, you dared not darken with your shadow the door-sill +of the house you purchased. Neither your gold nor your flattery—and +I hear you are rich in both—could wipe out from the minds +and hearts of my poor tenantry the kindness of centuries. Be advised, +then, sir; withdraw your offer; let a Galway gentleman settle +his own difficulties his own way; his troubles and cares are quite +sufficient, without your adding to them. There can be but one +mode in which your interference with him could be deemed acceptable: +need I tell you, sir, who are a soldier, how that is? As I +know your official duties are important, and as my nephew—who +feels with me perfectly in this business—is abroad, I can only say +that failing health and a broken frame shall not prevent my undertaking +a journey to England, should my doing so meet your wishes +on this occasion. I am, sir, + +Your obedient servant, GODFREY O’MALLEY. +</pre> +<p> +“This letter,” continued Considine, “I enclosed in an envelope, with the +following few lines of my own:”— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Count Considine presents his compliments to Lieutenant-General +Dashwood; and feeling that as the friend of Mr. Godfrey O’Malley, +the mild course pursued by that gentleman may possibly be attributed +to his suggestion, he begs to assure General Dashwood that the reverse +was the case, and that he strenuously counselled the propriety +of laying a horsewhip upon the general’s shoulders, as a preliminary +step in the transaction. + +“Count Considine’s address is No. 16 Kildare Street.” +</pre> +<p> +“Great God!” said I, “is this possible?” +</p> +<p> +“Well may you say so, my boy: for—would you believe it?—after +all that, he writes a long blundering apology, protesting I know not what +about motives of former friendship, and terminating with a civil hint that +we have done with him forever. And of my paragraph he takes no notice; and +thus ends the whole affair.” +</p> +<p> +“And with it my last hope also!” muttered I to myself. +</p> +<p> +That Sir George Dashwood’s intentions had been misconstrued and mistaken I +knew perfectly well; that nothing but the accumulated evils of poverty and +sickness could have induced my poor uncle to write such a letter I was +well aware; but now the mischief was accomplished, the evil was done, and +nothing remained but to bear with patience and submission, and to endeavor +to forget what thus became irremediable. +</p> +<p> +“Sir George Dashwood made no allusion to me, sir, in his reply?” inquired +I, catching at anything like a hope. +</p> +<p> +“Your name never occurs in his letter. But you look pale, boy; all these +discussions come too early upon you; besides, you stay too much at home, +and take no exercise.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, Considine bustled off towards the stables to look after some +young horses that had just been taken up; and I walked out alone to ponder +over what I had heard, and meditate on my plans for the future. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLIV. +</h2> +<p> +AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. +</p> +<p> +As I wandered on, the irritation of my spirit gradually subsided. It was, +to be sure, distressing to think over the light in which my uncle’s letter +had placed me before Sir George Dashwood, had even my reputation only with +him been at stake; but with my attachment to his daughter, it was almost +maddening. And yet there was nothing to be done; to disavow my +participation would be to throw discredit upon my uncle. Thus were my +hopes blighted; and thus, at that season when life was opening upon me, +did I feel careless and indifferent to everything. Had my military career +still remained to me, that at least would have suggested scenes sufficient +to distract me from the past; but now my days must be spent where every +spot teemed with memories of bygone happiness and joys never to come back +again. +</p> +<p> +My mind was, however, made up; and without speaking a word to Considine, I +turned homeward, and sat down at my writing-table. In a few brief lines I +informed my army agent of my intention of leaving the service, and desired +that he would sell out for me at once. Fearing lest my resolution might +not be proof against the advice and solicitation of my friends, I +cautioned him against giving my address, or any clew by which letters +might reach me. +</p> +<p> +This done, I addressed a short note to Mr. Blake, requesting to know the +name of his solicitor, in whose hands the bond was placed, and announcing +my intention of immediate repayment. +</p> +<p> +Trifling as these details were in themselves, I cannot help recording how +completely they changed the whole current of my thoughts. A new train of +interests began to spring up within me; and where so lately the clang of +the battle, the ardor of the march, the careless ease of the bivouac, had +engrossed every feeling, now more humble and homely thoughts succeeded; +and as my personal ambition had lost its stimulant, I turned with pleasure +to those of whose fate and fortunes I was in some sort the guardian. There +may be many a land where the verdure blooms more in fragrance and in +richness, where the clime breathes softer, and a brighter sky lights up +the landscape; but there is none—I have travelled through many a one—where +more touching and heart-bound associations are blended with the features +of the soil than in Ireland, and cold must be the spirit, and barren the +affections of him who can dwell amidst its mountains and its valleys, its +tranquil lakes, its wooded fens, without feeling their humanizing +influence upon him. Thus gradually new impressions and new duties +succeeded; and ere four months elapsed, the quiet monotony of my daily +life healed up the wounds of my suffering, and in the calm current of my +present existence, a sense of content, if not of happiness, crept gently +over me, and I ceased to long for the clash of arms and the loud blast of +the trumpet. +</p> +<p> +Unlike all my former habits, I completely abandoned the sports of the +field. He who had participated in them with me was no longer there; and +the very sight of the tackle itself suggested sad and depressing thoughts. +</p> +<p> +My horses I took but little pleasure in. To gratify the good and kind +people about, I would walk through the stables, and make some passing +remark, as if to show some interest; but I felt it not. No; it was only by +the total change of all the ordinary channels of my ideas that I could +bear up; and now my days were passed in the fields, either listlessly +strolling along, or in watching the laborers as they worked. Of my +neighbors I saw nothing; returning their cards, when they called upon me, +was the extent of our intercourse; and I had no desire for any further. As +Considine had left me to visit some friends in the south, I was quite +alone, and for the first time in my life, felt how soothing can be such +solitude. In each happy face, in every grateful look around me, I felt +that I was fulfilling my uncle’s last behest; and the sense of duty, so +strong when it falls upon the heart accompanied by the sense of power, +made my days pass rapidly away. +</p> +<p> +It was towards the close of autumn, when I one morning received a letter +from London, informing me that my troop had been sold, and the purchase +money—above four thousand pounds—lodged to my credit at my +banker’s. +</p> +<p> +As Mr. Blake had merely answered my former note by a civil message that +the matter in question was by no means pressing, I lost not a moment, when +this news reached me, to despatch Mike to Gurt-na-Morra with a few lines, +expressing my anxious desire to finish the transaction, and begging of Mr. +Blake to appoint a day for the purpose. +</p> +<p> +To this application Mr. Blake’s reply was, that he would do himself the +honor of waiting upon me the following day, when the arrangements I +desired could be agreed upon. Now this was exactly what I wished, if +possible, to avoid. Of all my neighbors, he was the one I predetermined to +have no intercourse with; I had not forgotten my last evening at his +house, nor had I forgiven his conduct to my uncle. However, there was +nothing for it but submission; the interview need not be a long, and it +should be a last one. Thus resolving, I waited in patience for the morrow. +</p> +<p> +I was seated at my breakfast the next morning, conning between whiles the +columns of the last paper, and feeding my spaniel, who sat upon a large +chair beside me, when the door opened, and the servant announced, “Mr. +Blake;” and the instant after that gentleman bustled in holding out both +his hands with all evidences of most friendly warmth, and calling out,— +</p> +<p> +“Charley O’Malley, my lad! I’m delighted to see you at last!” +</p> +<p> +Now, although the distance from the door to the table at which I sat was +not many paces, yet it was quite sufficient to chill down all my +respectable relative’s ardor before he approached: his rapid pace became +gradually a shuffle, a slide, and finally a dead stop; his extended arms +were reduced to one hand, barely advanced beyond his waistcoat; his voice, +losing the easy confidence of its former tone, got husky and dry, and +broke into a cough; and all these changes were indebted to the mere fact +of my reception of him consisting in a cold and distant bow, as I told the +servant to place a chair and leave the room. +</p> +<p> +Without any preliminary whatever, I opened the subject of our negotiation, +expressed my regret that it should have waited so long, and my desire to +complete it. +</p> +<p> +Whether it was that the firm and resolute tone I assumed had its effect at +once, or that disappointed at the mode in which I received his advances he +wished to conclude our interview as soon as need be, I know not; but he +speedily withdrew from a capacious pocket a document in parchment, which, +having spread at large upon the table, and having leisurely put on his +spectacles, he began to hum over its contents to himself in an undertone. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, here it is,” said he. “‘Deed of conveyance between Godfrey +O’Malley, of O’Malley Castle, Esq., on the one part’—perhaps you’d +like your solicitor to examine it,—‘and Blake, of Gurt’—because +there is no hurry, Captain O’Malley—‘on the other.’ In fact, after +all, it is a mere matter of form between relatives,” said he, as I +declined the intervention of a lawyer. “I’m not in want of the money—‘all +the lands and tenements adjoining, in trust, for the payment of the said +three thousand’—thank God, Captain, the sum is a trifle that does +not inconvenience me! The boys are provided for; and the girls—the +pickpockets, as I call them, ha, ha, ha!—not ill off neither;—‘with +rights of turbary on the said premises’—who are most anxious to have +the pleasure of seeing you. Indeed, I could scarcely keep Jane from coming +over to-day. ‘Sure he’s my cousin,’ says she; ‘and what harm would it be +if I went to see him?’ Wild, good-natured girls, Captain! And your old +friend Matthew—you haven’t forgot Matthew?—has been keeping +three coveys of partridge for you this fortnight. ‘Charley,’ says he,—they +call you Charley still, Captain,—‘shall have them, and no one else.’ +And poor Mary—she was a child when you were here—Mary is +working a sash for you. But I’m forgetting—I know you have so much +business on your hands—” +</p> +<p> +“Pray, Mr. Blake, be seated. I know nothing of any more importance than +the matter before us. If you will permit me to give you a check for this +money. The papers, I’m sure, are perfectly correct.” +</p> +<p> +“If I only thought it did not inconvenience you—” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing of the kind, I assure you. Shall I say at sight, or in ten days +hence?” +</p> +<p> +“Whenever you please, Captain. But it’s sorry I am to come troubling you +about such things, when I know you are thinking of other matters. And, as +I said before, the money does not signify to me; the times, thank God, are +good, and I’ve never been very improvident.” +</p> +<p> +“I think you’ll find that correct.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, to be sure it is! Well, well; I’m going away without saying half what +I intended.” +</p> +<p> +“Pray do not hurry yourself. I have not asked have you breakfasted, for I +remember Galway habits too well for that. But if I might offer you a glass +of sherry and water after your ride?” +</p> +<p> +“Will you think me a beast if I say yes, Captain? Time was when I didn’t +care for a canter of ten or fifteen miles in the morning no more than +yourself; and that’s no small boast; God forgive me, but I never see that +clover-field where you pounded the Englishman, without swearing there +never was a leap made before or since. Is this Mickey, Captain? Faith, and +it’s a fine, brown, hearty-looking chap you’re grown, Mickey. That’s +mighty pleasant sherry, but where would there be good wine if it wasn’t +here? Oh, I remember now what it was I wanted. Peter,—my son Peter, +a slip of a boy, he’s only sixteen,—well, d’you see, he’s downright +deranged about the army: he used to see your name in the papers every day, +and that terrible business at—what’s the name of the place?—where +you rode on the chap’s back up the breach.” +</p> +<p> +“Ciudad Rodrigo, perhaps,” said I, scarcely able to repress a laugh. +</p> +<p> +“Well, sir, since that he’ll hear of nothing but going into the army; ay, +and into the dragoons too. Now, Captain, isn’t it mighty expensive in the +dragoons?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, no, not particularly so,—at least in the regiment I served +with.” +</p> +<p> +“I promised him I’d ask you; the boy’s mad, that’s the fact. I wish, +Captain, you’d just reason with him a little; he’ll mind what you say, +there’s no fear of that. And you see, though I’d like to do what’s fair, +I’m not going to cut off the girls for the sake of the boys; with the +blessing of Providence, they’ll never be able to reproach me for that. +What I say is this: treat <i>me</i> well, and I’ll treat you the same. +Marry the man my choice would pick out for you, and it’s not a matter of a +thousand or two I’ll care for. There was Bodkin—you remember him?” +said he, with a grin; “he proposed for Mary, but since the quarrel with +you, she could never bear the sight of him, and Alley wouldn’t come down +to dinner if he was in the house. Mary’s greatly altered; I wish you heard +her sing ‘I’d mourn the hopes that leave me.’ Queer girl she is; she was +little more than a child when you were here, and she remembers you just as +if it was yesterday.” +</p> +<p> +While Mr. Blake ran on at this rate, now dilating upon my own manifold +virtues and accomplishments, now expatiating upon the more congenial +theme,—the fascinations of his fair daughters, and the various +merits of his sons,—I could not help feeling how changed our +relative position was since our last meeting; the tone of cool and vulgar +patronage he then assumed towards the unformed country lad was now +converted into an air of fawning and deferential submission, still more +distasteful. +</p> +<p> +Young as I was, however, I had already seen a good deal of the world; my +soldiering had at least taught me something of men, and I had far less +difficulty in deciphering the intentions and objects of my worthy +relative, than I should have had in the enigmatical mazes of the parchment +bond of which he was the bearer. After all, to how very narrow an extent +in life are we fashioned by our own estimate of ourselves! My changed +condition affected me but little until I saw how it affected others; that +the position I occupied should seem better now that life had lost the +great stimulus of ambition, was somewhat strange; and that flattery should +pay its homage to the mourning coat which it would have refused to my +soldier’s garb, somewhat surprised me. Still my bettered fortunes shone +only brightly by reflected light; for in my own heart I was sad, +spiritless, and oppressed. +</p> +<p> +Feeling somewhat ashamed at the coldness with which I treated a man so +much my elder, I gradually assumed towards Mr. Blake a manner less +reserved. He quickly availed himself of the change, and launched out into +an eloquent <i>exposé</i> of my advantages and capabilities; the only +immediate effect of which was to convince me that my property and my +prospects must have been very accurately conned over and considered by +that worthy gentleman before he could speak of the one or the other with +such perfect knowledge. +</p> +<p> +“When you get rid of these little encumbrances, your rent-roll will be +close on four thousand a year. There’s Bassett, sure, by only reducing his +interest from ten to five per cent, will give you a clear eight hundred +per annum; let him refuse, and I’ll advance the money. And, besides, look +at Freney’s farm; there’s two hundred acres let for one third of the +value, and you must look to these tilings; for, you see, Captain, we’ll +want you to go into Parliament; you can’t help coming forward at the next +election, and by the great gun of Athlone, we’ll return you.” +</p> +<p> +Here Mr. Blake swallowed a full bumper of sherry, and getting up a little +false enthusiasm for the moment, grasped me by both hands and shook me +violently; this done, like a skilful general, who, having fired the last +shot of his artillery, takes care to secure his retreat, he retired +towards the door, where his hat and coat were lying. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve a hundred apologies to make for encroaching upon your time; but, +upon my soul, Captain, you are so agreeable, and the hours have passed +away so pleasantly—May I never, if it is not one o’clock!—but +you must forgive me.” +</p> +<p> +My sense of justice, which showed me that the agreeability had all been on +Mr. Blake’s side, prevented me from acknowledging this compliment as it +deserved; so I merely bowed stiffly, without speaking. By this time he had +succeeded in putting on his great-coat, but still, by some mischance or +other, the moment of his leaving-taking was deferred; one time he buttoned +it awry, and had to undo it all again; then, when it was properly +adjusted, he discovered that his pocket-handkerchief was not available, +being left in the inner coat-pocket; to this succeeded a doubt as to the +safety of the check, which instituted another search, and it was full ten +minutes before he was completely caparisoned and ready for the road. +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, Captain, good-by!” said he warmly, yet warily, not knowing at +what precise temperature the metal of my heart was fusible. At a mild heat +I had been evidently unsinged, and the white glow of his flattery seemed +only to harden me. The interview was now over, and as I thought sufficient +had been done to convince my friend that the terms of distant acquaintance +were to be the limits of our future intercourse, I assumed a little show +of friendliness, and shook his hand warmly. +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, Mr. Blake; pray present my respectful compliments to your +friends. Allow me to ring for your horse; you are not going to have a +shower, I hope.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no, Captain, only a passing cloud,” said he, warming up perceptibly +under the influence of my advances, “nothing more. Why, what is it I’m +forgetting now! Oh, I have it! May be I’m too bold; but sure an old friend +and relation may take a liberty sometimes. It was just a little request of +Mrs. Blake, as I was leaving the house.” He stopped here as if to take +soundings, and perceiving no change in my countenance, continued: “It was +just to beg, that, in a kind and friendly way, you’d come over and eat +your dinner with us on Sunday; nobody but the family, not a soul—Mrs. +Blake and the girls; a boiled leg of mutton; Matthew; a fresh trout, if we +can catch one! Plain and homely, but a hearty welcome, and a bottle of old +claret, may be, too—ah! ah! ah!” +</p> +<p> +Before the cadence of Mr. Blake’s laugh had died away, I politely but +resolutely declined the proffered invitation, and by way of setting the +question at rest forever, gave him to understand that, from impaired +health and other causes, I had resolved upon strictly confining myself to +the limits of my own house and grounds, at least for the present. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Blake then saluted me for the last time, and left the room. As he +mounted his hackney, I could not help overhearing an abortive effort he +made to draw Mike into something like conversation; but it proved an utter +failure, and it was evident he deemed the man as incorrigible as the +master. +</p> +<p> +“A very fine young man the captain is—remarkable!—and it’s +proud I am to have him for a nephew!” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he cantered down the avenue, while Mickey, as he looked after +him, muttered between his teeth, “And faix, it’s prouder you’d be av he +was your son-in-law!” +</p> +<p> +Mike’s soliloquy seemed to show me, in a new light, the meaning of my +relative’s manner. It was for the first time in my life that such a +thought had occurred to me, and it was not without a sense of shame that I +now admitted it. +</p> +<p> +If there be something which elevates and exalts us in our esteem, tinging +our hearts with heroism and our souls with pride, in the love and +attachment of some fair and beautiful girl, there is something equally +humiliating in being the object of cold and speculative calculation to a +match-making family: your character studied; your pursuits watched; your +tastes conned over; your very temperament inquired into; surrounded by +snares; environed by practised attentions; one eye fixed upon the +registered testament of your relative, the other riveted upon your own +caprices; and then those thousand little cares and kindnesses which come +so pleasurably upon the heart when the offspring of true affection, +perverted as they are by base views and sordid interest, are so many +shocks to the feeling and understanding. Like the Eastern sirocco, which +seems to breathe of freshness and of health, and yet bears but pestilence +and death upon its breezes,—so these calculated and well-considered +traits of affection only render callous and harden the heart which had +responded warmly, openly, and abundantly to the true outpourings of +affection. At how many a previously happy hearth has the seed of this +fatal passion planted its discord! How many a fair and lovely girl, with +beauty and attractions sufficient to win all that her heart could wish of +fondness and devotion, has, by this pernicious passion, become a cold, +heartless, worldly coquette, weighing men’s characters by the adventitious +circumstances of their birth and fortune, and scrutinizing the eligibility +of a match with the practised acumen with which a notary investigates the +solvency of a creditor. How do the traits of beauty, gesture, voice, and +manner become converted into the common-place and distasteful trickery of +the world! The very hospitality of the house becomes suspect, their +friendship is but fictitious; those rare and goodly gifts of fondness and +sisterly affection which grow up in happier circumstances, are here but +rivalry, envy, and ill-conceived hatred. The very accomplishments which +cultivate and adorn life, that light but graceful frieze which girds the +temple of homely happiness, are here but the meditated and well-considered +occasions of display. All the bright features of womanhood, all the +freshness of youth, and all its fascinations are but like those +richly-colored and beautiful fruits, seductive to the eye and fair to look +upon, but which within contain nothing but a core of rottenness and decay. +</p> +<p> +No, no; unblessed by all which makes a hearth a home, I may travel on my +weary way through life; but such a one as this I will not make the partner +of my sorrows and my joys, come what will of it! +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLV. +</h2> +<p> +A SURPRISE. +</p> +<p> +From the hour of Mr. Blake’s departure, my life was no longer molested. My +declaration, which had evidently, under his auspices, been made the +subject of conversation through the country, was at least so far +successful, as it permitted me to spend my time in the way I liked best, +and without the necessity of maintaining the show of intercourse, when in +reality I kept up none, with the neighborhood. While thus, therefore, my +life passed on equably and tranquilly, many mouths glided over, and I +found myself already a year at home, without it appearing more than a few +weeks. Nothing seems so short in retrospect as monotony; the number, the +variety, the interest of the events which occupy us, making our hours pass +glibly and flowingly, will still suggest to the mind the impressions of a +longer period than when the daily routine of our occupations assumes a +character of continued uniformity. It seems to be the <i>amende</i> made +by hours of weariness and tedium, that, in looking back upon them, they +appear to have passed rapidly over. Not that my life, at the period I +speak of, was devoid of interest; on the contrary, devoting myself with +zeal and earnestness to the new duties of my station, I made myself +thoroughly acquainted with the condition of my property, the interest of +my tenantry, their prospects, their hopes, their objects. Investigating +them as only he can who is the owner of the soil, I endeavored to remedy +the ancient vices of the land,—the habits of careless, reckless +waste, of indifference for the morrow; and by instilling a feature of +prudent foresight into that boundless confidence in the future upon which +every Irishman of every rank lives and trusts, I succeeded at last in so +far ameliorating their situation, that a walk through my property, instead +of presenting—as it at first did—a crowd of eager and anxious +supplicants, entreating for abatements in rent, succor for their sick, and +sometimes even food itself, showed me now a happy and industrious people, +confident in themselves, and firmly relying on their own resources. +</p> +<p> +Another spring was now opening, and a feeling of calm and tranquil +happiness, the result of my successful management of my estate, made my +days pass pleasantly along. I was sitting at a late breakfast in my little +library; the open window afforded a far and wide prospect of the country, +blooming in all the promise of the season, while the drops of the passing +shower still lingered upon the grass, and were sparkling like jewels under +the bright sunshine. Masses of white and billowy cloud moved swiftly +through the air, coloring the broad river with many a shadow as they +passed. The birds sang merrily, the trees shook their leaves in concert, +and there was that sense of movement in everything on earth and sky which +gives to spring its character of lightness and exhilaration. The youth of +the year, like the youth of our own existence, is beautiful in the +restless activity which marks it. The tender flower that seems to open as +we look; the grass that springs before our eyes,—all speak of +promise. The changing phases of the sky, like the smiles and tears of +infancy, excite without weariness, and while they engage our sympathies, +they fatigue not our compassion. +</p> +<p> +Partly lost in thought as I looked upon the fair and varied scene before +me, now turning to the pages of the book upon the breakfast-table, the +hours of the morning passed quickly over, and it was already beyond noon. +I was startled from my revery by sounds which I could scarcely trust my +ears to believe real. I listened again, and thought I could detect them +distinctly. It seemed as though some one were rapidly running over the +keys of a pianoforte, essaying with the voice to follow the notes, and +sometimes striking two or three bold and successive chords; then a merry +laugh would follow, and drown all other sounds. “What can it be?” thought +I. “There is, to be sure, a pianoforte in the large drawing-room; but +then, who would venture upon such a liberty as this? Besides, who is +capable of it? There, it can be no inexperienced performer gave that +shake; my worthy housekeeper never accomplished that!” So saying, I jumped +from the breakfast-table, and set off in the direction of the sound. A +small drawing-room and the billiard-room lay between me and the large +drawing-room; and as I traversed them, the music grew gradually louder. +Conjecturing that, whoever it might be, the performance would cease on my +entrance, I listened for a few moments before opening the door. Nothing +could be more singular, nothing more strange, than the effect of those +unaccustomed sounds in that silent and deserted place. The character of +the music, too, contributed not a little to this; rapidly passing from +grave to gay, from the melting softness of some plaintive air to the +reckless hurry and confusion of an Irish jig, the player seemed, as it +were, to run wild through all the floating fancies of his memory; now +breaking suddenly off in the saddest cadence of a song, the notes would +change into some quaint, old-fashioned crone, in which the singer seemed +so much at home, and gave the queer drollery of the words that expression +of archness so eminently the character of certain Irish airs. “But what +the deuce is this?” said I, as, rattling over the keys with a flowing but +brilliant finger, she,—for it was unquestionably a woman,—with +a clear and sweet voice, broken by laughter, began to sing the words of +Mr. Bodkin’s song, “The Man for Galway.” When she had finished the last +verse, her hand strayed, as it were, carelessly across the instrument, +while she herself gave way to a free burst of merriment; and then, +suddenly resuming the air, she chanted forth the following words, with a +spirit and effect I can convey no idea of:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“To live at home, +And never roam; +To pass his days in sighing; +To wear sad looks, +Read stupid books, +And look half dead or dying; +Not show his face, +Nor join the chase, +But dwell a hermit always: +Oh, Charley, dear! +To me ‘tis clear, +You’re not the man for Galway!” +</pre> +<p> +“You’re not the man for Galway!” repeated she once more, while she closed +the piano with a loud bang. +</p> +<p> +“And why not, my dear, why not the man for Galway?” said I, as, bursting +open the door, I sprang into the room. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it’s you, is it?—at last! So I’ve unearthed you, have I?” +</p> +<p> +With these words she burst into an immoderate fit of laughter; leaving me, +who intended to be the party giving the surprise, amazed, confused, and +speechless, in the middle of the floor. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0362.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Baby Blake. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +That my reader may sympathize a little in my distresses, let me present +him with the <i>tableau</i> before me. Seated upon the piano-stool was a +young-lady of at most eighteen years: her face, had it not been for its +expression of exuberant drollery and malicious fun, would have been +downright beautiful; her eyes, of the deepest blue, and shaded by long +lashes, instead of indulging the character of pensive and thoughtful +beauty for which Nature destined them, sparkled with a most animated +brightness; her nose, which, rather short, was still beautifully +proportioned, gave, with her well-curled upper lip, a look of sauciness to +the features quite bewitching; her hair—that brilliant auburn we see +in a <i>Carlo Dolci</i>—fell in wild and massive curls upon her +shoulders. Her costume was a dark-green riding-habit, not of the newest in +its fashion, and displaying more than one rent in its careless folds; her +hat, whip, and gloves lay on the floor beside her, and her whole attitude +and bearing indicated the most perfect ease and carelessness. +</p> +<p> +“So you are caught—taken alive!” said she, as she pressed her hands +upon her sides in a fresh burst of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“By Jove! this is a surprise indeed!” said I. “And, pray, into whose fair +hands have I fallen a captive?” recovering myself a little, and assuming a +half air of gallantry. +</p> +<p> +“So you don’t know me, don’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“Upon my life I do not!” +</p> +<p> +“How good! Why, I’m Baby Blake.” +</p> +<p> +“Baby Blake?” said I, thinking that a rather strange appellation for one +whose well-developed proportions betokened nothing of infancy,—“Baby +Blake?” +</p> +<p> +“To be sure; your cousin Baby.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said I, springing forward. “Let me embrace my relative.” +Accepting my proffered salutation with the most exemplary coolness, she +said:— +</p> +<p> +“Get a chair, now, and let’s have a talk together.” +</p> +<p> +“Why the devil do they call you Baby?” said I, still puzzled by this +palpable misnomer. +</p> +<p> +“Because I am the youngest, and I was always the baby,” replied she, +adjusting her ringlets with a most rural coquetry. “Now tell me something. +Why do you live shut up here like a madman, and not come near us at +Gurt-na-Morra?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s a long story, Baby. But, since we are asking questions, how +did you get in here?” +</p> +<p> +“Just through the window, my dear; and I’ve torn my habit, as you see.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, she exhibited a rent of about two feet long, thrusting through +it a very pretty foot and ankle at the same time. +</p> +<p> +“As my inhospitable customs have cost you a habit, you must let me make +you a present of one.” +</p> +<p> +“No, will you though? That’s a good fellow. Lord! I told them I knew you +weren’t a miser; that you were only odd, that’s all.” +</p> +<p> +“And how did you come over, Baby?” +</p> +<p> +“Just cantered over with little Paddy Byrne. I made him take all the walls +and ditches we met, and they’re scraping the mud off him ever since. I’m +glad I made you laugh, Charley; they say you are so sad. Dear me, how +thirsty I am! Have you any beer?” +</p> +<p> +“To be sure, Baby. But wouldn’t you like some luncheon?” +</p> +<p> +“Of all things. Well, this is fun!” said she, as taking my arm, I led her +from the drawing-room. “They don’t know where I’m gone,—not one of +them; and I’ve a great mind not to tell them, if you wouldn’t blab.” +</p> +<p> +“Would it be quite proper?” +</p> +<p> +“Proper!” cried she, imitating my voice. “I like that! as if I was going +to run away with you! Dear me, what a pretty house, and what nice +pictures! Who is the old fellow up there in the armor?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s Sir Hildebrand O’Malley,” said I, with some pride in recognizing +an ancestor of the thirteenth century. +</p> +<p> +“And the other old fright with the wig, and his hands stuck in his +pockets?” +</p> +<p> +“My grandfather, Baby.” +</p> +<p> +“Lord, how ugly he is! Why, Charley, he hasn’t the look of you. One would +think, too, he was angry at us. Ay, old gentleman, you don’t like to see +me leaning on Cousin Charley’s arm! That must be the luncheon; I’m sure I +hear knives and forks rattling there.” +</p> +<p> +The old butler’s astonishment was not inferior to my own a few minutes +before, when I entered the dining-room with my fair cousin upon my arm. As +I drew a chair towards the table, a thought struck me that possibly it +might only be a due attention to my fair guest if I invited the +housekeeper, Mrs. Magra, to favor us with her presence; and accordingly, +in an undertone, so as not to be overheard by old Simon, I said,— +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps, Baby, you’d like to have Mrs. Magra to keep us company?” +</p> +<p> +“Who’s she?” was the brief answer. +</p> +<p> +“The housekeeper; a very respectable old matron.” +</p> +<p> +“Is she funny?” +</p> +<p> +“Funny! not a bit.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, then, never mind her. What made you think of her?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, I thought, perhaps you’d think—That is people might say—In +fact I was doing a little bit proper on your account.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that was it, was it? Thank you for nothing, my dear; Baby Blake can +take care of herself. And now just help me to that wing there. Do you +know, Cousin Charley, I think you’re an old quiz, and not half as good a +fellow as you used to be?” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, Baby, don’t be in such a hurry to pronounce upon me. Let us +take a glass of wine. Fill Miss Blake’s glass, Simon.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, you may be better when one comes to know you. I detest sherry. No, +never mind, I’ll take it, as it’s here. Charley, I’ll not compliment you +upon your ham; they don’t know how to save them here. I’ll give you such a +receipt when you come over to see us. But will you come? That’s the +question.” +</p> +<p> +“How can you ask me! Don’t you think I’ll return your visit?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, hang your ceremony! Come and see us, like a good-natured fellow that +knew us since we played together and quarrelled over our toys on the +grass. Is that your sword up there? Did you hear that noise? That was +thunder: there it comes. Look at that!” +</p> +<p> +As she spoke, a darkness like night overspread the landscape; the waves of +the river became greatly agitated, and the rain, descending in torrents, +beat with tremendous force against the windows; clap after clap of thunder +followed; the lightning flashed fearfully through the gloom; and the wind, +growing every moment stronger, drove the rain with redoubled violence +against the glass. For a while we amused ourselves with watching the +effects of the storm without: the poor laborers flying from their work; +the dripping figures seeking shelter beneath the trees; the barques; the +very loaded carts themselves,—all interested Miss Baby, whose eye +roved from the shore to the Shannon, recognizing with a practised eye +every house upon its banks, and every barque that rocked and pitched +beneath the gale. +</p> +<p> +“Well, this is pleasant to look out at,” said she, at length, and after +the storm had lasted for above an hour, without evincing any show of +abatement; “but what’s to become of <i>me?</i>” +</p> +<p> +Now that was the very question I had been asking myself for the last +twenty minutes without ever being able to find the answer. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, Charley, what’s to become of me?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, never fear; one thing’s quite certain, you cannot leave this in such +weather. The river is certainly impassable by this time at the ford, and +to go by the road is out of the question; it is fully twelve miles. I have +it, Baby; you, as I’ve said before, can’t leave this, but I can. Now, I’ll +go over to Gurt-na-Morra, and return in the morning to bring you back; it +will be fine by that time.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I like your notion. You’ll leave me all alone here to drink tea, I +suppose, with your friend Mrs. Magra. A pleasant evening I’d have of it; +not a bit—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Baby, don’t be cross; I only meant this arrangement really for your +sake. I needn’t tell you how very much I’d prefer doing the honors of my +poor house in person.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I see what you mean,—more propers. Well, well, I’ve a great +deal to learn; but look, I think its growing lighter.” +</p> +<p> +“No, far from it; it’s only that gray mass along the horizon that always +bodes continual rain.” +</p> +<p> +As the prospect without had little cheering to look upon, we sat down +beside the fire and chatted away, forgetting very soon in a hundred mutual +recollections and inquiries, the rain and the wind, the thunder and the +hurricane. Now and then, as some louder crash would resound above our +heads, for a moment we would turn to the window, and comment upon the +dreadful weather; but the next, we had forgotten all about it, and were +deep in our confabulations. +</p> +<p> +As for my fair cousin, who at first was full of contrivances to pass the +time,—such as the piano, a game at backgammon, chicken hazard, +battledoor,—she at last became mightily interested in some of my +soldiering adventures, and it was six o’clock ere we again thought that +some final measure must be adopted for restoring Baby to her friends, or +at least, guarding against the consequences her simple and guileless +nature might have involved her in. +</p> +<p> +Mike was called into the conference, and at his suggestion, it was decided +that we should have out the phaeton, and that I should myself drive Miss +Blake home; a plan which offered no other difficulties than this one,—namely, +that of above thirty horses in my stables, I had not a single pair which +had ever been harnessed. +</p> +<p> +This, so far from proving the obstacle I deemed it, seemed, on the +contrary, to overwhelm Baby with delight. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s have them. Come, Charley, this will be rare fun; we couldn’t have a +team of four, could we?” +</p> +<p> +“Six, if you like it, my dear coz—only who’s to hold them? They’re +young thorough-breds,—most of them never backed; some not bitted. In +fact, I know nothing of my stable. I say, Mike, is there anything fit to +take out?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; there’s Miss Wildespin, she’s in training, to be sure; but we +can’t help that; and the brown colt they call, ‘Billy the Bolter,’—they’re +the likeliest we have; without your honor would take the two chestnuts we +took up last week; they’re raal devils to go; and if the tackle will hold +them, they’ll bring you to Mr. Blake’s door in forty minutes.” +</p> +<p> +“I vote for the chestnuts,” said Baby, slapping her boot with her +horsewhip. +</p> +<p> +“I move an amendment in favor of Miss Wildespin,” said I, doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“He’ll never do for Galway,” sang Baby, laying her whip on my shoulder +with no tender hand; “yet you used to cross the country in good style when +you were here before.” +</p> +<p> +“And might do so again, Baby.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, no; that vile dragoon seat, with your long stirrup, and your heel +dropped, and your elbow this way, and your head that! How could you ever +screw your horse up to his fence, lifting him along as you came up through +the heavy ground, and with a stroke of your hand sending him pop over, +with his hind-legs well under him?” Here she burst into a fit of laughter +at my look of amazement, as with voice, gesture, and look she actually +dramatized the scene she described. +</p> +<p> +By the time that I had costumed my fair friend in my dragoon cloak and a +foraging cap, with a gold band around it, which was the extent of muffling +my establishment could muster, a distant noise without apprised us that +the phaeton was approaching. Certainly, the mode in which that equipage +came up to the door might have inspired sentiments of fear in any heart +less steeled against danger than my fair cousin’s. The two blood chestnuts +(for it was those Mike harnessed, having a groom’s dislike to take a racer +out of training) were surrounded by about twenty people: some at their +heads; some patting them on the flanks; some spoking the wheels; and a +few, the more cautious of the party, standing at a respectable distance +and offering advice. The mode of progression was simply a spring, a +plunge, a rear, a lounge, and a kick; and considering it was the first +time they ever performed together, nothing could be more uniform than +their display. Sometimes the pole would be seen to point straight upward, +like a lightning conductor, while the infuriated animals appeared sparring +with their fore-legs at an imaginary enemy. Sometimes, like the pictures +in a school-book on mythology, they would seem in the act of diving, while +with their hind-legs they dashed the splash-board into fragments behind +them,—their eyes flashing fire, their nostrils distended, their +flanks heaving, and every limb trembling with passion and excitement. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what I call a rare turn-out,” said Baby, who enjoyed the +proceeding amazingly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; but remember,” said I, “we’re not to have all these running footmen +the whole way.” +</p> +<p> +“I like that near-sider with the white fetlock.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re right, Miss,” said Mike, who entered at the moment, and felt quite +gratified at the criticism,—“you’re right, Miss; it’s himself can do +it.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, Baby, are you ready?” +</p> +<p> +“All right, sir,” said she, touching her cap knowingly with her +forefinger. +</p> +<p> +“Will the tackle hold, Mike?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll take this with us, at any rate,” pointing, as he spoke, to a +considerable coil of rope, a hammer, and a basket of nails, he carried on +his arm. “It’s the break harness we have, and it ought to be strong +enough; but sure if the thunder comes on again, they’d smash a chain +cable.” +</p> +<p> +“Now, Charley,” cried Baby, “keep their heads straight; for when they go +that way, they mean going.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Baby, let’s start; but pray remember one thing,—if I’m not as +agreeable on the journey as I ought to be, if I don’t say as many pretty +things to my pretty coz, it’s because these confounded beasts will give me +as much as I can do.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, look after the cattle, and take another time for squeezing my +hand. I say, Charley, you’d like to smoke, now, wouldn’t you? If so, don’t +mind me.” +</p> +<p> +“A thousand thanks for thinking of it; but I’ll not commit such a trespass +on good breeding.” +</p> +<p> +When we reached the door, the prospect looked dark and dismal enough. The +rain had almost ceased, but masses of black clouds were hurrying across +the sky, and the low rumbling noise of a gathering storm crept along the +ground. Our panting equipage, with its two mounted grooms behind,—for +to provide against all accident, Mike ordered two such to follow us,—stood +in waiting. Miss Blake’s horse, held by the smallest imaginable bit of +boyhood, bringing up the rear. +</p> +<p> +“Look at Paddy Byrne’s face,” said Baby, directing my attention to the +little individual in question. +</p> +<p> +Now, small as the aforesaid face was, it contrived, within its limits, to +exhibit an expression of unqualified fear. I had no time, however, to give +a second look, when I jumped into the phaeton and seized the reins. Mike +sprang up behind at a look from me, and without speaking a word, the +stablemen and helpers flew right and left. The chestnuts, seeing all free +before them, made one tremendous plunge, carrying the fore-carriage clear +off the ground, and straining every nut, bolt, screw, and strap about us +with the effort. +</p> +<p> +“They’re off now,” cried Mickey. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, they are off now,” said Baby. “Keep them going.” +</p> +<p> +Nothing could be easier to follow than this advice; and in fact so little +merit had I in obeying it, that I never spoke a word. Down the avenue we +went, at the speed of lightning, the stones and the water from the late +rain flying and splashing about us. In one series of plunges, agreeably +diversified by a strong bang upon the splash-board, we reached the gate. +Before I had time to utter a prayer for our safety, we were through and +fairly upon the high road. +</p> +<p> +“Musha, but the master’s mad!” cried the old dame of the gate-lodge; “he +wasn’t out of this gate for a year and a half, and look now—” +</p> +<p> +The rest was lost in the clear ringing laugh of Baby, who clapped her +hands in ecstasy and delight. +</p> +<p> +“What a spanking pair they are! I suppose you wouldn’t let me get my hand +on them?” said she, making a gesture as if to take the reins. +</p> +<p> +“Heaven forbid, my dear!” said I; “they’ve nearly pulled my wrists off +already.” +</p> +<p> +Our road, like many in the west of Ireland, lay through a level tract of +bog; deep ditches, half filled with water, on either side of us, but, +fortunately, neither hill nor valley for several miles. +</p> +<p> +“There’s the mail,” said Baby, pointing to a dark speck at a long distance +off. +</p> +<p> +Ere many minutes elapsed, our stretching gallop, for such had our pace +sobered into, brought us up with it, and as we flew by, at top speed, Baby +jumped to her feet, and turning a waggish look at our beaten rivals, burst +out into a fit of triumphant laughter. +</p> +<p> +Mike was correct as to time; in some few seconds less than forty minutes +we turned into the avenue of Gurt-na-Morra. Tearing along like the very +moment of their starting, the hot and fiery animals galloped up the +approach, and at length came to a stop in a deep ploughed field, into +which, fortunately for us, Mr. Blake, animated less by the picturesque +than the profitable, had converted his green lawn. This check, however, +was less owing to my agency than to that of my servants; for dismounting +in haste, they flew to the horses’ heads, and with ready tact, and before +I had helped my cousin to the ground, succeeded in unharnessing them from +the carriage, and led them, blown and panting, covered with foam, and +splashed with mud, into the space before the door. +</p> +<p> +By this time we were joined by the whole Blake family, who poured forth in +astonishment at our strange and sudden appearance. Explanation on my part +was unnecessary, for Baby, with a volubility quite her own, gave the whole +recital in less than three minutes. From the moment of her advent to her +departure, they had it all; and while she mingled her ridicule at my +surprise, her praise of my luncheon, her jests at my prudence, the whole +family joined heartily in her mirth, while they welcomed, with most +unequivocal warmth, my first visit to Gurt-na-Morra. +</p> +<p> +I confess it was with no slight gratification I remarked that Baby’s visit +was as much a matter of surprise to them as to me. Believing her to have +gone to visit at Portumna Castle, they felt no uneasiness at her absence; +so that, in her descent upon me, she was really only guided by her own +wilful fancy, and that total absence of all consciousness of wrong which +makes a truly innocent girl the hardiest of all God’s creatures. I was +reassured by this feeling, and satisfied that, whatever the intentions of +the elder members of the Blake family, Baby was, at least, no participator +in their plots or sharer in their intrigues. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLVI. +</h2> +<p> +NEW VIEWS. +</p> +<p> +When I found myself the next morning at home, I could not help ruminating +over the strange adventures of the preceding day, and felt a kind of +self-reproach at the frigid manner in which I had hitherto treated all the +Blake advances, contrasting so ill for me with the unaffected warmth and +kind good-nature of their reception. Never alluding, even by accident, to +my late estrangement; never, by a chance speech, indicating that they felt +any soreness for the past,—they talked away about the gossip of the +country: its feuds, its dinners, its assizes, its balls, its garrisons,—all +the varied subjects of country life were gayly and laughingly discussed; +and when, as I entered my own silent and deserted home, and contrasted its +look of melancholy and gloom with the gay and merry scene I so lately +parted from, when my echoing steps reverberated along the flagged hall,—I +thought of the happy family picture I left behind me, and could not help +avowing to myself that the goods of fortune I possessed were but ill +dispensed, when, in the midst of every means and appliance for comfort and +happiness, I lived a solitary man, companionless and alone. +</p> +<p> +I arose from breakfast a hundred times,—now walking impatiently +towards the window, now strolling into the drawing-room. Around, on every +side, lay scattered the prints and drawings, as Baby had thrown them +carelessly upon the floor; her handkerchief was also there. I took it up; +I know not why,—some lurking leaven of old romance perhaps suggested +it,—but I hoped it might prove of delicate texture, and bespeaking +that lady-like coquetry which so pleasantly associates with the sex in our +minds. Alas, no! Nothing could be more palpably the opposite: torn, and +with a knot—some hint to memory—upon one corner, it was no aid +to my careering fancy. And yet—and yet, what a handsome girl she is; +how finely, how delicately formed that Greek outline of forehead and brow; +how transparently soft that downy pink upon her cheek! With what varied +expression those eyes can beam!—ay, that they can: but, confound it, +there’s this fault, their very archness, their sly malice, will be +interpreted by the ill-judging world to any but the real motive. “How like +a flirt!” will one say. “How impertinent! How ill-bred!” The conventional +stare of cold, patched, and painted beauty, upon whose unblushing cheek no +stray tinge of modesty has wandered, will be tolerated, even admired; +while the artless beamings of the soul upon the face of rural loveliness +will be condemned without appeal. +</p> +<p> +Such a girl may a man marry who destines his days to the wild west; but +woe unto him!—woe unto him, should he migrate among the more +civilized and less charitable <i>coteries</i> of our neighbors! +</p> +<p> +“Ah, here are the papers, and I was forgetting. Let me see—‘Bayonne’—ay, +‘march of the troops—Sixth Corps.’ What can that be without? I say, +Mike, who is cantering along the avenue?” +</p> +<p> +“It’s me, sir. I’m training the brown filly for Miss Mary, as your honor +bid me last night.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, very true. Does she go quietly?” +</p> +<p> +“Like a lamb, sir; barrin’ she does give a kick now and then at the sheet, +when it bangs against her legs.” +</p> +<p> +“Am I to go over with the books now, sir?” said a wild-looking shockhead +appearing within the door. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, take them over, with my compliments; and say I hope Miss Mary Blake +has caught no cold.” +</p> +<p> +“You were speaking about a habit and hat, sir?” said Mrs. Magra, curtsying +as she entered. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Mrs. Magra; I want your advice. Oh, tell Barnes I really cannot be +bored about those eternal turnips every day of my life. And, Mike, I wish +you’d make them look over the four-horse harness. I want to try those +grays; they tell me they’ll run well together. Well, Freney, more +complaints, I hope? Nothing but trespasses! I don’t care, so you’d not +worry me, if they eat up every blade of clover in the grounds; I’m sick of +being bored this way. Did you say that we’d eight couple of good dogs?—quite +enough to begin with. Tell Jones to ride into Banagher and look after that +box; Buckmaster sent it from London two months ago, and it has been lying +there ever since. And, Mrs. Magra, pray let the windows be opened, and the +house well aired; that drawing-room would be all the better for new +papering.” +</p> +<p> +These few and broken directions may serve to show my readers—what +certainly they failed to convince myself of—that a new chapter of my +life had opened before me; and that, in proportion to the length of time +my feelings had found neither vent nor outlet, they now rushed madly, +tempestuously into their new channels, suffering no impediment to arrest, +no obstacle to oppose their current. +</p> +<p> +Nothing can be conceived more opposite to my late, than my present habits +now became. The house, the grounds, the gardens, all seemed to participate +in the new influence which beamed upon myself; the stir and bustle of +active life was everywhere perceptible; and amidst numerous preparations +for the moors and the hunting-field, for pleasure parties upon the river, +and fishing excursions up the mountains, my days were spent. The Blakes, +without even for a moment pressing their attentions upon me, permitted me +to go and come among them unquestioned and unasked. When, nearly every +morning, I appeared in the breakfast-room, I felt exactly like a member of +the family; the hundred little discrepancies of thought and habit which +struck me forcibly at first, looked daily less apparent; the careless +inattentions of my fair cousins as to dress, their free-and-easy +boisterous manner, their very accents, which fell so harshly on my ear, +gradually made less and less impression, until at last, when a raw English +Ensign, just arrived in the neighborhood, remarked to me in confidence, +“What devilish fine girls they were, if they were not so confoundedly +Irish!” I could not help wondering what the fellow meant, and attributed +the observation more to his ignorance than to its truth. +</p> +<p> +Papa and Mamma Blake, like prudent generals, so long as they saw the +forces of the enemy daily wasting before them; so long as they could with +impunity carry on the war at his expense,—resolved to risk nothing +by a pitched battle. Unlike the Dalrymples, they could leave all to time. +</p> +<p> +Oh, tell me not of dark eyes swimming in their own ethereal essence; tell +me not of pouting lips, of glossy ringlets, of taper fingers, and +well-rounded insteps; speak not to me of soft voices, whose seductive +sounds ring sweetly in our hearts; preach not of those thousand womanly +graces so dear to every man, and doubly to him who lives apart from all +their influences and their fascinations; neither dwell upon congenial +temperament, similarity of taste, of disposition, and of thought; these +are not the great risks a man runs in life. Of all the temptations, strong +as these may be, there is one greater than them all, and that is, +propinquity! +</p> +<p> +Show me the man who has ever stood this test; show me the man, deserving +the name of such, who has become daily and hourly exposed to the breaching +artillery of flashing eyes, of soft voices, of winning smiles, and kind +speeches, and who hasn’t felt, and that too soon too, a breach within the +rampart of his heart. He may, it is true,—nay, he will, in many +cases,—make a bold and vigorous defence; sometimes will he +re-intrench himself within the stockades of his prudence; but, alas! it is +only to defer the moment when he must lay down his arms. He may, like a +wise man who sees his fate inevitable, make a virtue of necessity, and +surrender at discretion; or, like a crafty foe, seeing his doom before +him, under the cover of the night he may make a sortie from the garrison, +and run for his life. Ignominious as such a course must be, it is often +the only one left. +</p> +<p> +But to come back. Love, like the small-pox, is most dangerous when you +take it in the natural way. Those made matches, which Heaven is supposed +to have a hand in, when placing an unmarried gentleman’s property in the +neighborhood of an unmarried lady’s, which destine two people for each +other in life, because their well-judging friends have agreed, “They’ll do +very well; they were made for each other,”—these are the mild cases +of the malady. This process of friendly vaccination takes out the poison +of the disease, substituting a more harmless and less exciting affection; +but the really dangerous instances are those from contact, that same +propinquity, that confounded tendency every man yields to, to fall into a +railroad of habit; that is the risk, that is the danger. What a bore it is +to find that the absence of one person, with whom you’re in no wise in +love, will spoil your morning’s canter, or your rowing party upon the +river! How much put out are you, when she, to whom you always gave your +arm in to dinner, does not make her appearance in the drawing-room; and +your tea, too, some careless one, indifferent to your taste, puts a lump +of sugar too little, or cream too much, while she—But no matter; +habit has done for you what no direct influence of beauty could do, and a +slave to your own selfish indulgences, and the cultivation of that ease +you prize so highly, you fall over head and ears in love. +</p> +<p> +Now, you are not, my good reader, by any means to suppose that this was my +case. No, no; I was too much what the world terms the “old soldier” for +that. To continue my illustration: like the fortress that has been often +besieged, the sentry upon the walls keeps more vigilant watch; his ear +detects the far-off clank of the dread artillery; he marks each parallel; +he notes down every breaching battery; and if he be captured, at least it +is in fair fight. +</p> +<p> +Such were some of my reflections as I rode slowly home one evening from +Gurt-na-Morra. Many a time, latterly, had I contrasted my own lonely and +deserted hearth with the smiling looks, the happy faces, and the merry +voices I had left behind me; and many a time did I ask myself, “Am I never +to partake of a happiness like this?” How many a man is seduced into +matrimony from this very feeling! How many a man whose hours have passed +fleetingly at the pleasant tea-table, or by the warm hearth of some old +country-house, going forth into the cold and cheerless night, reaches his +far-off home only to find it dark and gloomy, joyless and companionless? +How often has the hard-visaged look of his old butler, as, with sleepy +eyes and yawning face, he hands a bed-room candle, suggested thoughts of +married happiness? Of the perils of propinquity I have already spoken; the +risks of contrast are also great. Have you never, in strolling through +some fragrant and rich conservatory, fixed your eye upon a fair and lovely +flower, whose blossoming beauty seems to give all the lustre and all the +incense of the scene around? And how have you thought it would adorn and +grace the precincts of your home, diffusing fragrance on every side. Alas, +the experiment is not always successful. Much of the charm and many of the +fascinations which delight you are the result of association of time and +of place. The lovely voice, whose tones have spoken to your heart, may, +like some instrument, be delightful in the harmony of the orchestra, but, +after all, prove a very middling performer in a duet. +</p> +<p> +I say not this to deter men from matrimony, but to warn them from a +miscalculation which may mar their happiness. Flirtation is a very fine +thing, but it’s only a state of transition after all. The tadpole +existence of the lover would be great fun, if one was never to become a +frog under the hands of the parson. I say all this dispassionately and +advisedly. Like the poet of my country, for many years of my life,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“My only books were woman’s looks,” +</pre> +<p> +and certainly I subscribe to a circulating library. +</p> +<p> +All this long digression may perhaps bring the reader to where it brought +me,—the very palpable conviction, that, though not in love with my +cousin Baby, I could not tell when I might eventually become so. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLVII. +</h2> +<p> +A RECOGNITION. +</p> +<p> +The most pleasing part about retrospect is the memory of our bygone hopes. +The past, however happy, however blissful, few would wish to live over +again; but who is there that does not long for, does not pine after the +day-dream which gilded the future, which looked ever forward to the time +to come as to a realization of all that was dear to us, lightening our +present cares, soothing our passing sorrows by that one thought? +</p> +<p> +Life is marked out in periods in which, like stages in a journey, we rest +and repose ourselves, casting a look, now back upon the road we have been +travelling, now throwing a keener glance towards the path left us. It is +at such spots as these remembrance comes full upon us, and that we feel +how little our intentions have swayed our career or influenced our +actions; the aspirations, the resolves of youth, are either looked upon as +puerile follies, or a most distant day settled on for their realization. +The principles we fondly looked to, like our guide-stars, are dimly +visible, not seen; the friends we cherished are changed and gone; the +scenes themselves seem no longer the sunshine and the shade we loved; and, +in fact, we are living in a new world, where our own altered condition +gives the type to all around us; the only link that binds us to the past +being that same memory that like a sad curfew tolls the twilight of our +fairest dreams and most cherished wishes. +</p> +<p> +That these glimpses of the bygone season of our youth should be but fitful +and passing—tinging, not coloring the landscape of our life—we +should be engaged in all the active bustle and turmoil of the world, +surrounded by objects of hope, love, and ambition, stemming the strong +tide in whose fountain is fortune. +</p> +<p> +He, however, who lives apart, a dreary and a passionless existence, will +find that in the past, more than in the future, his thoughts have found +their resting-place; memory usurps the place of hope, and he travels +through life like one walking onward; his eyes still turning towards some +loved forsaken spot, teeming with all the associations of his happiest +hours, and preserving, even in distance, the outline that he loved. +</p> +<p> +Distance in time, as in space, smooths down all the inequalities of +surface; and as the cragged and rugged mountain, darkened by cliff and +precipice, shows to the far-off traveller but some blue and misty mass, so +the long-lost-sight-of hours lose all the cares and griefs that tinged +them, and to our mental eye, are but objects of uniform loveliness and +beauty; and if we do not think of +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“The smiles, the tears, +Of boyhood’s years,” +</pre> +<p> +it is because, like April showers, they but checker the spring of our +existence. +</p> +<p> +For myself, baffled in hope at a period when most men but begin to feel +it, I thought myself much older than I really was; the disappointments of +the world, like the storms of the ocean, impart a false sense of +experience to the young heart, as he sails forth upon his voyage; and it +is an easy error to mistake trials for time. +</p> +<p> +The goods of fortune by which I was surrounded, took nothing from the +bitterness of my retrospect; on the contrary, I could not help feeling +that every luxury of my life was bought by my surrender of that career +which had elated me in my own esteem, and which, setting a high and noble +ambition before me, taught me to be a man. +</p> +<p> +To be happy, one must not only fulfil the duties and exactions of his +station, but the station itself must answer to his views and aspirations +in life. Now, mine did not sustain this condition: all that my life had of +promise was connected with the memory of her who never could share my +fortunes; of her for whom I had earned praise and honor; becoming +ambitious as the road to her affection, only to learn after, that my hopes +were but a dream, and my paradise a wilderness. +</p> +<p> +While thus the inglorious current of my life ran on, I was not indifferent +to the mighty events the great continent of Europe was witnessing. The +successes of the Peninsular campaign; the triumphant entry of the British +into France; the downfall of Napoleon; the restoration of the Bourbons,—followed +each other with the rapidity of the most common-place occurrences; and in +the few short years in which I had sprung from boyhood to man’s estate, +the whole condition of the world was altered. Kings deposed; great armies +disbanded; rightful sovereigns restored to their dominions; banished and +exiled men returned to their country, invested with rank and riches; and +peace, in the fullest tide of its blessings, poured down upon the earth +devastated and blood-stained. +</p> +<p> +Years passed on; and between the careless abandonment to the mere +amusement of the hour, and the darker meditation upon the past, time +slipped away. From my old friends and brother officers I heard but rarely. +Power, who at first wrote frequently, grew gradually less and less +communicative. Webber, who had gone to Paris at the peace, had written but +one letter; while, from the rest, a few straggling lines were all I +received. In truth be it told, my own negligence and inability to reply +cost me this apparent neglect. +</p> +<p> +It was a fine evening in May, when, rigging up a sprit-sail, I jumped into +my yawl, and dropped easily down the river. The light wind gently curled +the crested water, the trees waved gently and shook their branches in the +breeze, and my little barque, bending slightly beneath, rustled on her +foamy track with that joyous bounding motion so inspiriting to one’s +heart. The clouds were flying swiftly past, tinging with their shadows the +mountains beneath; the Munster shore, glowing with a rich sunlight, showed +every sheep-cot and every hedge-row clearly out, while the deep shadow of +tall Scariff darkened the silent river where Holy Island, with its ruined +churches and melancholy tower, was reflected in the still water. +</p> +<p> +It was a thoroughly Irish landscape: the changeful sky; the fast-flitting +shadows; the brilliant sunlight; the plenteous fields; the broad and +swelling stream; the dark mountain, from whose brown crest a wreath of +thin blue smoke was rising,—were all there smiling yet sadly, like +her own sons, across whose lowering brow some fitful flash of fancy ever +playing dallies like sunbeams on a darkening stream, nor marks the depth +that lies below. +</p> +<p> +I sat musing over the strange harmony of Nature with the temperament of +man, every phase of his passionate existence seeming to have its type in +things inanimate, when a loud cheer from the land aroused me, and the +words, “Charley! Cousin Charley!” came wafted over the water to where I +lay. For some time I could but distinguish the faint outline of some +figures on the shore; but as I came nearer, I recognized my fair cousin +Baby, who, with a younger brother of some eight or nine years old, was +taking an evening walk. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know, Charley,” said she, “the boys have gone over to the castle +to look for you; we want you particularly this evening.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed, Cousin Baby! Well, I fear you must make my excuses.” +</p> +<p> +“Then, once for all, I will not. I know this is one of your sulky moods, +and I tell you frankly I’ll not put up with them any more.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no, Baby, not so; out of spirits if you will, but not out of temper.” +</p> +<p> +“The distinction is much too fine for me, if there be any. But there now, +do be a good fellow; come up with us—come up with me!” +</p> +<p> +As she said this she placed her arm within mine. I thought, too,—perhaps +it was but a thought,—she pressed me gently. I know she blushed and +turned away her head to hide it. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t pretend to be proof to your entreaty, Cousin Baby,” said I, with +half-affected gallantry, putting her fingers to my lips. +</p> +<p> +“There, how can you be so foolish; look at William yonder; I am sure he +must have seen you!” But William, God bless him! was bird’s-nesting or +butterfly-hunting or daisy-picking or something of that kind. +</p> +<p> +O ye young brothers, who, sufficiently old to be deemed companions and <i>chaperons</i>, +but yet young enough to be regarded as having neither eyes nor ears, what +mischief have ye to answer for; what a long reckoning of tender speeches, +of soft looks, of pressed hands, lies at your door! What an incentive to +flirtation is the wily imp who turns ever and anon from his careless +gambols to throw his laughter-loving eyes upon you, calling up the +mantling blush to both your cheeks! He seems to chronicle the hours of +your dalliance, making your secrets known unto each other. We have gone +through our share of flirtation in this life: match-making mothers, prying +aunts, choleric uncles, benevolent and open-hearted fathers, we understand +to the life, and care no more for such man-traps than a Melton man, well +mounted on his strong-boned thorough-bred, does for a four-barred ox-fence +that lies before him. Like him, we take them flying; never relaxing the +slapping stride of our loose gallop, we go straight ahead, never turning +aside, except for a laugh at those who flounder in the swamps we sneer at. +But we confess honestly, we fear the little, brother, the small urchin +who, with nankeen trousers and three rows of buttons, performs the part of +Cupid. He strikes real terror into our heart; he it is who, with a cunning +wink or sly smile, seems to confirm the soft nonsense we are weaving; by +some slight gesture he seems to check off the long reckoning of our +attentions, bringing us every moment nearer to the time when the score +must be settled and the debt paid. He it is who, by a memory delightfully +oblivious of his task and his table-book, is tenacious to the life of what +you said to Fanny; how you put your head under Lucy’s bonnet; he can +imitate to perfection the way you kneeled upon the grass; and the wretch +has learned to smack his lips like a <i>gourmand</i>, that he, may convey +another stage of your proceeding. +</p> +<p> +Oh, for infant schools for everything under the age of ten! Oh, for +factories for the children of the rich! The age of prying curiosity is +from four-and-a-half to nine, and Fonché himself might get a lesson in <i>police</i> +from an urchin in his alphabet. +</p> +<p> +I contrived soon, however, to forget the presence of even the little +brother. The night was falling; Baby appeared getting fatigued with her +walk, for she leaned somewhat more heavily upon my arm, and I—I +cannot tell wherefore—fell into that train of thinking aloud, which +somehow, upon a summer’s eve, with a fair girl beside one, is the very +nearest thing to love-making. +</p> +<p> +“There, Charley, don’t now—ah, don’t! Do let go my hand; they are +coming down the avenue.” +</p> +<p> +I had scarcely time to obey the injunction, when Mr. Blake called out:— +</p> +<p> +“Well, indeed! Charley, this is really fortunate; we have got a friend to +take tea with us, and wanted you to meet him.” +</p> +<p> +Muttering an internal prayer for something not exactly the welfare of the +aforesaid friend, whom I judged to be some Galway squire, I professed +aloud the pleasure I felt in having come in so opportunely. +</p> +<p> +“He wishes particularly to make your acquaintance.” +</p> +<p> +“So much the worse,” thought I to myself; “it rarely happens that this +feeling is mutual.” +</p> +<p> +Evidently provoked at the little curiosity I exhibited, Blake added,— +</p> +<p> +“He’s on his way to Fermoy with a detachment.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed! what regiment, pray?” +</p> +<p> +“The 28th Foot.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, I don’t know them.” +</p> +<p> +By this time we reached the steps of the hall-door, and just as we did so, +the door opened suddenly, and a tall figure in uniform presented himself. +With one spring he seized my hand and nearly wrung it off. +</p> +<p> +“Why what,” said I, “can this be? Is it really—” +</p> +<p> +“Sparks,” said he,—“your old friend Sparks, my boy; I’ve changed +into the infantry, and here I am. Heard by chance you were in the +neighborhood; met Mr. Blake, your friend here, at the inn, and accepted +his invitation to meet you.” +</p> +<p> +Poor Sparks, albeit the difference in his costume, was the same as ever. +Having left the Fourteenth soon after I quitted them, he knew but little +of their fortunes; and he himself had been on recruiting stations nearly +the whole time since we had met before. +</p> +<p> +While we each continued to extol the good fortune of the other,—he +mine as being no longer in the service, and I his for still being so,—we +learned the various changes which had happened to each of us during our +separation. Although his destination was ultimately Fermoy, Portumua was +ordered to be his present quarter; and I felt delighted to have once more +an old companion within reach, to chat over former days of campaigning and +nights of merriment in the Peninsula. +</p> +<p> +Sparks soon became a constant visitor and guest at Gurt-na-Morra; his good +temper, his easy habits, his simplicity of character, rapidly enabled him +to fall into all their ways; and although evidently not what Baby would +call “the man for Galway,” he endeavored with all his might to please +every one, and certainly succeeded to a considerable extent. +</p> +<p> +Baby alone seemed to take pleasure in tormenting the poor sub. Long before +she met with him having heard much from me of his exploits abroad, she was +continually bringing up some anecdote of his unhappy loves or mis-placed +passions; which he evidently smarted under the more, from the circumstance +that he appeared rather inclined to like my fair cousin. +</p> +<p> +As she continued this for some time, I remarked that Sparks, who at first +was all gayety and high spirits, grew gradually more depressed and +dispirited. I became convinced that the poor fellow was in love; very +little management on my part was necessary to obtain his confession; and +accordingly, the same evening the thought first struck me, as we were +riding slowly home towards O’Malley Castle, I touched at first generally +upon the merits of the Blakes, their hospitality, etc., then diverged to +the accomplishments and perfections of the girls, and lastly, Baby +herself, in all form, came up for sentence. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, yes!” said Sparks, with a deep sigh, “it is quite as you say; she is +a lovely girl; and that liveliness in her character, that elasticity in +her temperament, chastened down as it might be, by the feeling of respect +for the man she loved! I say, Charley, is it a very long attachment of +yours?” +</p> +<p> +“A long attachment of mine! Why, my dear Sparks, you can’t suppose that +there is anything between us! I pledge you my word most faithfully.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, don’t tell me that; what good can there be in mystifying me?” +</p> +<p> +“I have no such intention, believe me. My cousin Baby, however I like and +admire her, has no other place in my affection than a very charming girl +who has lightened a great many dreary and tiresome hours, and made my +banishment from the world less irksome than I should have found it without +her.” +</p> +<p> +“And you are really not in love?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it!” +</p> +<p> +“Nor going to marry her either?” +</p> +<p> +“Not the least notion of it!—a fact. Baby and I are excellent +friends, for the very reason that we were never lovers; we have had no <i>petits +jeux</i> of fallings out and makings up; no hide-and-seek trials of +affected indifference and real disappointments; no secrets, no griefs, nor +grudges; neither quarrels nor keepsakes. In fact, we are capital cousins; +quizzing every one for our own amusement; riding, walking, boating +together; in fact, doing and thinking of everything save sighs and +declarations; always happy to meet, and never broken-hearted when we +parted. And I can only add, as a proof of my sincerity, that if you feel +as I suspect you do from your questions, I’ll be your ambassador to the +court of Gurt-na-Morra with sincere pleasure.” +</p> +<p> +“Will you really? Will you, indeed, Charley, do this for me? Will you +strengthen my wishes by your aid, and give me all your influence with the +family?” +</p> +<p> +I could scarcely help smiling at poor Sparks’s eagerness, or the +unwarrantable value he put upon my alliance, in a case where his own +unassisted efforts did not threaten much failure. +</p> +<p> +“I repeat it, Sparks, I’ll make a proposal for you in all form, aided and +abetted by everything recommendatory and laudatory I can think of; I’ll +talk of you as a Peninsular of no small note and promise; and observe +rigid silence about your Welsh flirtation and your Spanish elopement.” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll not blab about the Dalrymples, I hope?” +</p> +<p> +“Trust me; I only hope you will be always equally discreet: but now—when +shall it be? Should you like to consider the matter more?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, nothing of the kind; let it be to-morrow, at once, if I am to +fail; even that—anything’s better than suspense.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, to-morrow be it,” said I. +</p> +<p> +So I wished him a good-night, and a stout heart to hear his fortune +withal. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLVIII. +</h2> +<p> +A MISTAKE. +</p> +<p> +I ordered my horses at an early hour; and long before Sparks—lover +that he was—had opened his eyes to the light, was already on my way +towards Gurt-na-Morra. Several miles slipped away before I well determined +how I should open my negotiations: whether to papa Blake, in the first +instance, or to madame, to whose peculiar province these secrets of the +home department belonged; or why not at once to Baby?—because, after +all, with her it rested finally to accept or refuse. To address myself to +the heads of the department seemed the more formal course; and as I was +acting entirely as an “envoy extraordinary,” I deemed this the fitting +mode of proceeding. +</p> +<p> +It was exactly eight o’clock as I drove up to the door. Mr. Blake was +standing at the open window of the breakfast-room, sniffing the fresh air +of the morning. The Blake mother was busily engaged with the economy of +the tea-table; a very simple style of morning costume, and a nightcap with +a flounce like a petticoat, marking her unaffected toilet. Above stairs, +more than one head <i>en papillate</i> took a furtive peep between the +curtains; and the butler of the family, in corduroys and a fur cap, was +weeding turnips in the lawn before the door. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Blake had barely time to take a hurried departure, when her husband +came out upon the steps to bid me welcome. There is no physiognomist like +your father of a family, or your mother with marriageable daughters. +Lavater was nothing to them, in reading the secret springs of action, the +hidden sources of all character. Had there been a good respectable bump +allotted by Spurzheim to “honorable intentions,” the matter had been all +fair and easy,—the very first salute of the gentleman would have +pronounced upon his views. But, alas! no such guide is forthcoming; and +the science, as it now exists, is enveloped in doubt and difficulty. The +gay, laughing temperament of some, the dark and serious composure of +others; the cautious and reserved, the open and the candid, the witty, the +sententious, the clever, the dull, the prudent, the reckless,—in a +word, every variety which the innumerable hues of character imprint upon +the human face divine are their study. Their convictions are the slow and +patient fruits of intense observation and great logical accuracy. +Carefully noting down every lineament and feature,—their change, +their action, and their development,—they track a lurking motive +with the scent of a bloodhound, and run down a growing passion with an +unrelenting speed. I have been in the witness-box, exposed to the licensed +badgering and privileged impertinence of a lawyer, winked, leered, +frowned, and sneered at with all the long-practised tact of a <i>nisi +prius</i> torturer; I have stood before the cold, fish-like, but searching +eye of a prefect of police, as he compared my passport with my person, and +thought he could detect a discrepancy in both,—but I never felt the +same sense of total exposure as when glanced at by the half-cautious, +half-prying look of a worthy father or mother, in a family where there are +daughters to marry, and “nobody coming to woo.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re early, Charley,” said Mr. Blake, with an affected mixture of +carelessness and warmth. “You have not had breakfast?” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir. I have come to claim a part of yours; and if I mistake not, you +seem a little later than usual.” +</p> +<p> +“Not more than a few minutes. The girls will be down presently; they’re +early risers, Charley; good habits are just as easy as bad ones; and, the +Lord be praised! my girls were never brought up with any other.” +</p> +<p> +“I am well aware of it, sir; and indeed, if I may be permitted to take +advantage of the <i>apropos</i>, it was on the subject of one of your +daughters that I wished to speak to you this morning, and which brought me +over at this uncivilized hour, hoping to find you alone.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Blake’s look for a moment was one of triumphant satisfaction; it was +but a glance, however, and repressed the very instant after, as he said, +with a well got-up indifference,— +</p> +<p> +“Just step with me into the study, and we’re sure not to be interrupted.” +</p> +<p> +Now, although I have little time or space for such dallying, I cannot help +dwelling for a moment upon the aspect of what Mr. Blake dignified with the +name of his study. It was a small apartment with one window, the panes of +which, independent of all aid from a curtain, tempered the daylight +through the medium of cobwebs, dust, and the ill-trained branches of some +wall-tree without. +</p> +<p> +Three oak chairs and a small table were the only articles of furniture, +while around, on all sides, lay the <i>disjecta membra</i> of Mr. Blake’s +hunting, fishing, shooting, and coursing equipments,—old top-boots, +driving whips, odd spurs, a racing saddle, a blunderbuss, the helmet of +the Galway Light Horse, a salmon net, a large map of the county with a +marginal index to several mortgages marked with a cross, a stable lantern, +the rudder of a boat, and several other articles representative of his +daily associations; but not one book, save an odd volume of Watty Cox’s +Magazine, whose pages seemed as much the receptacle of brown hackles for +trout-fishing as the resource of literary leisure. +</p> +<p> +“Here we’ll be quite cosey, and to ourselves,” said Mr. Blake, as, placing +a chair for me, he sat down himself, with the air of a man resolved to +assist, by advice and counsel, the dilemma of some dear friend. +</p> +<p> +After a few preliminary observations, which, like a breathing canter +before a race, serves to get your courage up, and settle you well in your +seat, I opened my negotiation by some very broad and sweeping truisms +about the misfortunes of a bachelor existence, the discomforts of his +position, his want of home and happiness, the necessity for his one day +thinking seriously about marriage; it being in a measure almost as +inevitable a termination of the free-and-easy career of his single life as +transportation for seven years is to that of a poacher. “You cannot go on, +sir,” said I, “trespassing forever upon your neighbors’ preserves; you +must be apprehended sooner or later; therefore, I think, the better way is +to take out a license.” +</p> +<p> +Never was a small sally of wit more thoroughly successful. Mr. Blake +laughed till he cried, and when he had done, wiped his eyes with a snuffy +handkerchief, and cried till he laughed again. As, somehow, I could not +conceal from myself a suspicion as to the sincerity of my friend’s mirth, +I merely consoled myself with the French adage, that “he laughs best who +laughs last;” and went on:— +</p> +<p> +“It will not be deemed surprising, sir, that a man should come to the +discovery I have just mentioned much more rapidly by having enjoyed the +pleasure of intimacy with your family; not only by the example of perfect +domestic happiness presented to him, but by the prospect held out that a +heritage of the fair gifts which adorn and grace a married life may +reasonably be looked for among the daughters of those themselves the +realization of conjugal felicity.” +</p> +<p> +Here was a canter, with a vengeance; and as I felt blown, I slackened my +pace, coughed, and resumed:— +</p> +<p> +“Mary Blake, sir, is, then, the object of my present communication; she it +is who has made an existence that seemed fair and pleasurable before, +appear blank and unprofitable without her. I have, therefore, to come at +once to the point, visited you this morning, formally to ask her hand in +marriage; her fortune, I may observe at once, is perfectly immaterial, a +matter of no consequence [so Mr. Blake thought also]; a competence fully +equal to every reasonable notion of expenditure—” +</p> +<p> +“There, there; don’t, don’t!” said Mr. Blake, wiping his eyes, with a sob +like a hiccough,—“don’t speak of money! I know what you would say, a +handsome settlement,—a well-secured jointure, and all that. Yes, +yes, I feel it all.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, yes, sir, I believe I may add that everything in this respect will +answer your expectations.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course; to be sure. My poor dear Baby! How to do without her, that’s +the rub! You don’t know, O’Malley, what that girl is to me—you can’t +know it; you’ll feel it one day though—that you will!” +</p> +<p> +“The devil I shall!” said I to myself. “The great point is, after all, to +learn the young lady’s disposition in the matter—” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Charley, none of this with me, you sly dog! You think I don’t know +you. Why, I’ve been watching,—that is, I have seen—no, I mean +I’ve heard—They—they,—people will talk, you know.” +</p> +<p> +“Very true, sir. But, as I was going to remark—” +</p> +<p> +Just at this moment the door opened, and Miss Baby herself, looking most +annoyingly handsome, put in her head. +</p> +<p> +“Papa, we’re waiting breakfast. Ah, Charley, how d’ye do?” +</p> +<p> +“Come in, Baby,” said Mr. Blake; “you haven’t given me my kiss this +morning.” +</p> +<p> +The lovely girl threw her arms around his neck, while her bright and +flowing locks fell richly upon his shoulder. I turned rather sulkily away; +the thing always provokes me. There is as much cold, selfish cruelty in +such <i>coram publico</i> endearments, as in the luscious display of rich +rounds and sirloins in a chop-house to the eyes of the starved and +penniless wretch without, who, with dripping rags and watering lip, eats +imaginary slices, while the pains of hunger are torturing him! +</p> +<p> +“There’s Tim!” said Mr. Blake, suddenly. “Tim Cronin!—Tim!” shouted +he to, as it seemed to me, an imaginary individual outside; while, in the +eagerness of pursuit, he rushed out of the study, banging the door as he +went, and leaving Baby and myself to our mutual edification. +</p> +<p> +I should have preferred it being otherwise; but as the Fates willed it +thus, I took Baby’s hand, and led her to the window. Now, there is one +feature of my countrymen which, having recognized strongly in myself, I +would fain proclaim; and writing as I do—however little people may +suspect me—solely for the sake of a moral, would gladly warn the +unsuspecting against. I mean, a very decided tendency to become the +consoler, the confidant of young ladies; seeking out opportunities of +assuaging their sorrow, reconciling their afflictions, breaking eventful +passages to their ears; not from any inherent pleasure in the tragic +phases of the intercourse, but for the semi-tenderness of manner, that +harmless hand-squeezing, that innocent waist-pressing, without which +consolation is but like salmon without lobster,—a thing maimed, +wanting, and imperfect. +</p> +<p> +Now, whether this with me was a natural gift, or merely a “way we have in +the army,” as the song says, I shall not pretend to say; but I venture to +affirm that few men could excel me in the practice I speak of some +five-and-twenty years ago. Fair reader, do pray, if I have the happiness +of being known to you, deduct them from my age before you subtract from my +merits. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Baby, dear, I have just been speaking about you to papa. Yes, dear—don’t +look so incredulous—even of your own sweet self. Well, do you know, +I almost prefer your hair worn that way; those same silky masses look +better falling thus heavily—” +</p> +<p> +“There, now, Charley! ah, don’t!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Baby, as I was saying, before you stopped me, I have been asking +your papa a very important question, and he has referred me to you for the +answer. And now will you tell me, in all frankness and honesty, your mind +on the matter?” +</p> +<p> +She grew deadly pale as I spoke these words, then suddenly flushed up +again, but said not a word. I could perceive, however, from her heaving +chest and restless manner, that no common agitation was stirring her +bosom. It was cruelty to be silent, so I continued:— +</p> +<p> +“One who loves you well, Baby, dear, has asked his own heart the question, +and learned that without you he has no chance of happiness; that your +bright eyes are to him bluer than the deep sky above him; that your soft +voice, your winning smile—and what a smile it is!—have taught +him that he loves, nay, adores you! Then, dearest—what pretty +fingers those are! Ah, what is this? Whence came that emerald? I never saw +that ring before, Baby!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that,” said she, blushing deeply,—“that is a ring the foolish +creature Sparks gave me a couple of days ago; but I don’t like it—I +don’t intend to keep it.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, she endeavored to draw it from her finger, but in vain. +</p> +<p> +“But why, Baby, why take it off? Is it to give him the pleasure of putting +it on again? There, don’t look angry; we must not fall out, surely.” +</p> +<p> +“No, Charley, if you are not vexed with me—if you are not—” +</p> +<p> +“No, no, my dear Baby; nothing of the kind. Sparks was quite right in not +trusting his entire fortune to my diplomacy; but at least, he ought to +have told me that he had opened the negotiation. Now, the question simply +is: Do you love him? or rather, because that shortens matters: Will you +accept him?” +</p> +<p> +“Love who?” +</p> +<p> +“Love whom? Why Sparks, to be sure!” +</p> +<p> +A flash of indignant surprise passed across her features, now pale as +marble; her lips were slightly parted, her large full eyes were fixed upon +me steadfastly, and her hand, which I had held in mine, she suddenly +withdrew from my grasp. +</p> +<p> +“And so—and so it is of Mr. Sparks’s cause you are so ardently the +advocate?” she said at length, after a pause of most awkward duration. +</p> +<p> +“Why, of course, my dear cousin. It was at his suit and solicitation I +called on your father; it was he himself who entreated me to take this +step; it was he—” +</p> +<p> +But before I could conclude, she burst into a torrent of tears and rushed +from the room. +</p> +<p> +Here was a situation! What the deuce was the matter? Did she, or did she +not, care for him? Was her pride or her delicacy hurt at my being made the +means of the communication to her father? What had Sparks done or said to +put himself and me in such a devil of a predicament? Could she care for +any one else? +</p> +<p> +“Well, Charley!” cried Mr. Blake, as he entered, rubbing his hands in a +perfect paroxysm of good temper,—“well, Charley, has love-making +driven breakfast out of your head?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, faith, sir, I greatly fear I have blundered my mission sadly. My +cousin Mary does not appear so perfectly satisfied; her manner—” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t tell me such nonsense. The girl’s manner! Why, man, I thought you +were too old a soldier to be taken in that way.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, sir, the best thing, under the circumstances, is to send over +Sparks himself. Your consent, I may tell him, is already obtained.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, my boy; and my daughter’s is equally sure. But I don’t see what we +want with Sparks at all. Among old friends and relatives as we are, there +is, I think, no need of a stranger.” +</p> +<p> +“A stranger! Very true, sir, he is a stranger; but when that stranger is +about to become your son-in-law—” +</p> +<p> +“About to become what?” said Mr. Blake, rubbing his spectacles, and +placing them leisurely on his nose to regard me,—“to become what?” +</p> +<p> +“Your son-in-law. I hope I have been sufficiently explicit, sir, in making +known Mr. Sparks’s wishes to you.” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Sparks! Why damn me, sir—that is—I beg pardon for the +warmth—you—you never mentioned his name to-day till now. You +led me to suppose that—in fact, you told me most clearly—” +</p> +<p> +Here, from the united effects of rage and a struggle for concealment, Mr. +Blake was unable to proceed, and walked the room with a melodramatic stamp +perfectly awful. +</p> +<p> +“Really, sir,” said I at last, “while I deeply regret any misconception or +mistake I have been the cause of, I must, in justice to myself, say that I +am perfectly unconscious of having misled you. I came here this morning +with a proposition for the hand of your daughter in behalf of—” +</p> +<p> +“Yourself, sir. Yes, yourself. I’ll be—no! I’ll not swear; but—but +just answer me, if you ever mentioned one word of Mr. Sparks, if you ever +alluded to him till the last few minutes?” +</p> +<p> +I was perfectly astounded. It might be, alas, it was exactly as he stated! +In my unlucky effort at extreme delicacy, I became only so very mysterious +that I left the matter open for them to suppose that it might be the Khan +of Tartary was in love with Baby. +</p> +<p> +There was but one course now open. I most humbly apologized for my +blunder; repeated by every expression I could summon up, my sorrow for +what had happened; and was beginning a renewal of negotiation “in re +Sparks,” when, overcome by his passion, Mr. Blake could hear no more, but +snatched up his hat and left the room. +</p> +<p> +Had it not been for Baby’s share in the transaction I should have laughed +outright. As it was, I felt anything but mirthful; and the only clear and +collected idea in my mind was to hurry home with all speed, and fasten a +quarrel on Sparks, the innocent cause of the whole mishap. Why this +thought struck me let physiologists decide. +</p> +<p> +A few moments’ reflection satisfied me that under present circumstances, +it would be particularly awkward to meet with any others of the family. +Ardently desiring to secure my retreat, I succeeded, after some little +time, in opening the window-sash; consoling myself for any injury I was +about to inflict upon Mr. Blake’s young plantation in my descent, by the +thought of the service I was rendering him while admitting a little fresh +air into his sanctum. +</p> +<p> +For my patriotism’s sake I will not record my sensations as I took my way +through the shrubbery towards the stable. Men are ever so prone to revenge +their faults and their follies upon such inoffensive agencies as time and +place, wind or weather, that I was quite convinced that to any other but +Galway ears my <i>exposé</i> would have been perfectly clear and +intelligible; and that in no other country under heaven would a man be +expected to marry a young lady from a blunder in his grammar. +</p> +<p> +“Baby may be quite right,” thought I; “but one thing is assuredly true,—if +I’ll never do for Galway, Galway will never do for me. No, hang it! I have +endured enough for above two years. I have lived in banishment, away from +society, supposing that, at least, if I isolated myself from the pleasures +of the world I was exempt from its annoyances.” But no; in the seclusion +of my remote abode troubles found their entrance as easily as elsewhere, +so that I determined at once to leave home; wherefor, I knew not. If life +had few charms, it had still fewer ties for me. If I was not bound by the +bonds of kindred, I was untrammelled by their restraints. +</p> +<p> +The resolution once taken, I burned to put it into effect; and so +impatiently did I press forward as to call forth more than one +remonstrance on the part of Mike at the pace we were proceeding. As I +neared home, the shrill but stirring sounds of drum and fife met me; and +shortly after a crowd of country people filled the road. Supposing it some +mere recruiting party, I was endeavoring to press on, when the sounds of a +full military band, in the exhilarating measure of a quick-step, convinced +me of my error; and as I drew to one side of the road, the advanced guard +of an infantry regiment came forward. The men’s faces were flushed, their +uniforms dusty and travel-stained, their knapsacks strapped firmly on, and +their gait the steady tramp of the march. Saluting the subaltern, I asked +if anything of consequence had occurred in the south that the troops were +so suddenly under orders. The officer stared at me for a moment or two +without speaking, and while a slight smile half-curled his lip, answered:— +</p> +<p> +“Apparently, sir, you seem very indifferent to military news, otherwise +you can scarcely be ignorant of the cause of our route.” +</p> +<p> +“On the contrary,” said I, “I am, though a young man, an old soldier, and +feel most anxious about everything connected with the service.” +</p> +<p> +“Then it is very strange, sir, you should not have heard the news. +Bonaparte has returned from Elba, has arrived at Paris, been received with +the most overwhelming enthusiasm, and at this moment the preparations for +war are resounding from Venice to the Vistula. All our forces, disposable, +are on the march for embarkation. Lord Wellington has taken the command, +and already, I may say, the campaign has begun.” +</p> +<p> +The tone of enthusiasm in which the young officer spoke, the astounding +intelligence itself, contrasting with the apathetic indolence of my own +life, made me blush deeply, as I, muttered some miserable apology for my +ignorance. +</p> +<p> +“And you are now <i>en route?</i>” +</p> +<p> +“For Fermoy; from which we march to Cove for embarkation. The first +battalion of our regiment sailed for the West Indies a week since, but a +frigate has been sent after them to bring them back; and we hope all to +meet in the Netherlands before the month is over. But I must beg your +pardon for saying adieu. Good-by, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, sir; good-by,” said I, as still standing in the road, I was so +overwhelmed with surprise that I could scarcely credit my senses. +</p> +<p> +A little farther on, I came up with the main body of the regiment, from +whom I learned the corroboration of the news, and also the additional +intelligence that Sparks had been ordered off with his detachment early in +the morning, a veteran battalion being sent into garrison in the various +towns of the south and west. +</p> +<p> +“Do you happen to know a Mr. O’Malley, sir?” said the major, coming up +with a note in his hand. +</p> +<p> +“I beg to present him to you,” said I, bowing. +</p> +<p> +“Well, sir, Sparks gave me this note, which he wrote with a pencil as we +crossed each other on the road this morning. He told me you were an old +Fourteenth man. But your regiment is in India, I believe; at least Power +said they were under orders when we met him.” +</p> +<p> +“Fred Power! Are you acquainted with him? Where is he now, pray?” +</p> +<p> +“Fred is on the staff with General Vandeleur, and is now in Belgium.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said I, every moment increasing my surprise at some new piece of +intelligence. “And the Eighty-eighth?” said I, recurring to my old friends +in that regiment. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, the Eighty-eighth are at Gibraltar, or somewhere in the +Mediterranean; at least, I know they are not near enough to open the +present campaign with us. But if you’d like to hear any more news, you +must come over to Borrisokane; we stop there to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“Then I’ll certainly do so.” +</p> +<p> +“Come at six then, and dine with us.” +</p> +<p> +“Agreed,” said I; “and now, good-morning.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, I once more drove on; my head full of all that I had been +hearing, and my heart bursting with eagerness to join the gallant fellows +now bound for the campaign. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLIX. +</h2> +<p> +BRUSSELS. +</p> +<p> +I must not protract a tale already far too long, by the recital of my +acquaintance with the gallant Twenty-sixth. It is sufficient that I should +say that, having given Mike orders to follow me to Cove, I joined the +regiment on their march, and accompanied them to Cork. Every hour of each +day brought us in news of moment and importance; and amidst all the +stirring preparations for the war, the account of the splendid spectacle +of the <i>Champ de Mai</i> burst upon astonished Europe, and the +intelligence spread far and near that the enthusiasm of France never rose +higher in favor of the Emperor. And while the whole world prepared for the +deadly combat, Napoleon surpassed even himself, by the magnificent +conceptions for the coming conflict, and the stupendous nature of those +plans by which he resolved on resisting combined and united Europe. +</p> +<p> +While our admiration and wonder of the mighty spirit that ruled the +destinies of the continent rose high, so did our own ardent and burning +desire for the day when the open field of fight should place us once more +in front of each other. +</p> +<p> +Every hard-fought engagement of the Spanish war was thought of and talked +over; from Talavera to Toulouse, all was remembered. And while among the +old Peninsulars the military ardor was so universally displayed, among the +regiments who had not shared the glories of Spain and Portugal, an equal, +perhaps a greater, impulse was created for the approaching campaign. +</p> +<p> +When we arrived at Cork, the scene of bustle and excitement exceeded +anything I ever witnessed. Troops were mustering in every quarter; +regiments arriving and embarking; fresh bodies of men pouring in; drills, +parades, and inspections going forward; arms, ammunition, and military +stores distributing; and amidst all, a spirit of burning enthusiasm +animated every rank for the approaching glory of the newly-arisen war. +</p> +<p> +While thus each was full of his own hopes and expectations, I alone felt +depressed and downhearted. My military caste was lost to me forever, my +regiment many, many a mile from the scene of the coming strife; though +young, I felt like one already old and bygone. The last-joined ensign +seemed, in his glowing aspiration, a better soldier than I, as, sad and +dispirited, I wandered through the busy crowds, surveying with curious eye +each gallant horseman as he rode proudly past. What was wealth and fortune +to me? What had they ever been, compared with all they cost me?—the +abandonment of the career I loved, the path in life I sought and panted +for. Day after day I lingered on, watching with beating heart each +detachment as they left the shore; and when their parting cheer rang high +above the breeze, turned sadly back to mourn over a life that had failed +in its promise, and an existence now shorn of its enjoyment. +</p> +<p> +It was on the evening of the 3d of June that I was slowly wending my way +back towards my hotel. Latterly I had refused all invitations to dine at +the mess. And by a strange spirit of contradiction, while I avoided +society, could yet not tear myself away from the spot where every +remembrance of my past life was daily embittered by the scenes around me. +But so it was; the movement of the troops, their reviews, their arrivals, +and departures, possessed the most thrilling interest for me. While I +could not endure to hear the mention of the high hopes and glorious vows +each brave fellow muttered. +</p> +<p> +It was, as I remember, on the evening of the 3d of June, I entered my +hotel lower in spirits even than usual. The bugles of the gallant +Seventy-first, as they dropped down with the tide, played a well-known +march I had heard the night before Talavera. All my bold and hardy days +came rushing madly to my mind; and my present life seemed no longer +endurable. The last army list and the newspaper lay on my table, and I +turned to read the latest promotions with that feeling of bitterness by +which an unhappy man loves to tamper with his misery. +</p> +<p> +Almost the first paragraph I threw my eyes upon ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +OSTEND, May 24. + +The “Vixen” sloop-of-war, which arrived at our port this morning, +brought among several other officers of inferior note +Lieutenant-General Sir George Dashwood, appointed as +Assistant-Adjutant-General +on the staff of his Grace the Duke of Wellington. The gallant +general was accompanied by his lovely and accomplished daughter, +and his military secretary and aide-de-camp, Major Hammersley, +of the 2d Life Guards. They partook of a hurried <i>déjeuné</i> +with the Burgomaster, and left immediately after for Brussels. +</pre> +<p> +Twice I read this over, while a burning, hot sensation settled upon my +throat and temples. “So Hammersley still persists; he still hopes. And +what then?—what can it be to me?—my prospects have long since +faded and vanished! Doubtless, ere this, I am as much forgotten as though +we had never met,—would that we never had!” I threw up the +window-sash; a light breeze was gently stirring, and as it fanned my hot +and bursting head, I felt cooled and relieved. Some soldiers were talking +beneath the window and among them I recognized Mike’s voice. +</p> +<p> +“And so you sail at daybreak, Sergeant?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Mister Free; we have our orders to be on board before the +flood-tide. The ‘Thunderer’ drops down the harbor to-night, and we are +merely here to collect our stragglers.” +</p> +<p> +“Faix, it’s little I thought I’d ever envy a sodger any more; but someway, +I wish I was going with you.” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing easier, Mike,” said another, laughing. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, true for you, but that’s not the way I’d like to do it. If my master, +now, would just get over his low spirits, and spake a word to the Duke of +York, devil a doubt but he’d give him his commission back again, and then +one might go in comfort.” +</p> +<p> +“Your master likes his feather pillow better than a mossy stone under his +head, I’m thinking; and he ain’t far wrong either.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re out there, Neighbor. It’s himself cares as little for hardship as +any one of you; and sure it’s not becoming me to say it, but the best +blood and the best bred was always the last to give in for either cold or +hunger, ay, or even complain of it.” +</p> +<p> +Mike’s few words shot upon me a new and a sudden conviction,—what +was to prevent my joining once more? Obvious as such a thought now was, +yet never until this moment did it present itself so palpably. So +habituated does the mind become to a certain train of reasoning, framing +its convictions according to one preconceived plan, and making every fact +and every circumstance concur in strengthening what often may be but a +prejudice,—that the absence of the old Fourteenth in India, the sale +of my commission, the want of rank in the service, all seemed to present +an insurmountable barrier to my re-entering the army. A few chance words +now changed all this, and I saw that as a volunteer at least, the path of +glory was still open, and the thought was no sooner conceived, than the +resolve to execute it. While, therefore, I walked hurriedly up and down, +devising, planning, plotting, and contriving, each instant I would stop to +ask myself how it happened I had not determined upon this before. +</p> +<p> +As I summoned Mike before me, I could not repress a feeling of false +shame, as I remembered how suddenly so natural a resolve must seem to have +been adopted; and it was with somewhat of hesitation that I opened the +conversation. +</p> +<p> +“And so, sir, you are going after all,—long life to you? But I never +doubted it. Sure, you wouldn’t be your father’s son, and not join +divarsion when there was any going on.” +</p> +<p> +The poor fellow’s eyes brightened up, his look gladdened, and before he +reached the foot of the stairs, I heard his loud cheer of delight that +once more we were off to the wars. +</p> +<p> +The packet sailed for Liverpool the next morning. By it we took our +passage, and on the third morning I found myself in the waiting-room at +the Horse Guards, expecting the moment of his Royal Highness’s arrival; my +determination being to serve as a volunteer in any regiment the duke might +suggest, until such time as a prospect presented itself of entering the +service as a subaltern. +</p> +<p> +The room was crowded by officers of every rank and arm in the service. The +old, gray-headed general of division; the tall, stout-looking captain of +infantry; the thin and boyish figure of the newly-gazetted cornet,—were +all there; every accent, every look that marked each trait of national +distinction in the empire, had its representative. The reserved and +distant Scotchman; the gay, laughing, exuberant Patlander; the dark-eyed, +and dark-browed North Briton,—collected in groups, talked eagerly +together; while every instant, as some new arrival would enter, all eyes +would turn to the spot, in eager expectation of the duke’s coming. At last +the clash of arms, as the guard turned out, apprised us of his approach, +and we had scarcely time to stand up and stop the buzz of voices, when the +door opened, and an aide-de-camp proclaimed in a full tone,— +</p> +<p> +“His Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief!” +</p> +<p> +Bowing courteously on every side, he advanced through the crowd, turning +his rapid and piercing look here and there through the room, while with +that tact, the essential gift of his family, he recognized each person by +his name, directing from one to the other some passing observation. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Sir George Cockburn, how d’ ye do?—your son’s appointment is +made out. Major Conyers, that application shall be looked to. Forbes, you +must explain that I cannot possibly put men in the regiment of their +choice; the service is the first thing. Lord L——, your +memorial is before the Prince Regent; the cavalry command will, I believe, +however, include your name.” +</p> +<p> +While he spoke thus, he approached the place where I was standing, when, +suddenly checking himself, he looked at me for a moment somewhat sternly. +“Why not in uniform, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“Your Royal Highness, I am not in the army.” +</p> +<p> +“Not in the army—not in the army? And why, may I beg to know, have +you—But I’m speaking to <i>Captain</i> O’Malley, if I mistake not?” +</p> +<p> +“I held that rank, sir, once; but family necessities compelled me to sell +out. I have now no commission in the service, but am come to beseech your +Royal Highness’s permission to serve as a volunteer.” +</p> +<p> +“As a volunteer, eh—a volunteer? Come, that’s right, I like that; +but still, we want such fellows as you,—the man of Ciudad Rodrigo. +Yes, my Lord L——, this is one of the stormers; fought his way +through the trench among the first; must not be neglected. Hold yourself +in readiness, Captain—hang it, I was forgetting; Mr. O’Malley, I +mean—hold yourself in readiness for a staff appointment. Smithson, +take a note of this.” So saying, he moved on; and I found myself in the +street, with a heart bounding with delight, and a step proud as an +emperor’s. +</p> +<p> +With such rapidity the events of my life now followed one upon the other, +that I could take no note of time as it passed. On the fourth day after my +conversation with the duke I found myself in Brussels. As yet I heard +nothing of the appointment, nor was I gazetted to any regiment or any +situation on the staff. It was strange enough, too, I met but few of my +old associates, and not one of those with whom I had been most intimate in +my Peninsular career; but it so chanced that very many of the regiments +who most distinguished themselves in the Spanish campaigns, at the peace +of 1814 were sent on foreign service. My old friend Power was, I learned, +quartered at Courtrai; and as I was perfectly at liberty to dispose of my +movements at present, I resolved to visit him there. +</p> +<p> +It was a beautiful evening on the 12th of June. I had been inquiring +concerning post-horses for my journey, and was returning slowly through +the park. The hour was late—near midnight—but a pale +moonlight, a calm, unruffled air, and stronger inducements still, the song +of the nightingales that abound in this place, prevailed on many of the +loungers to prolong their stay; and so from many a shady walk and tangled +arbor, the clank of a sabre would strike upon the ear, or the low, soft +voice of woman would mingle her dulcet sound with the deep tones of her +companion. I wandered on, thoughtful and alone; my mind pre-occupied so +completely with the mighty events passing before me, I totally forgot my +own humble career, and the circumstances of my fortune. As I turned into +an alley which leads from the Great Walk towards the Palace of the Prince +of Orange, I found my path obstructed by three persons who were walking +slowly along in front of me. I was, as I have mentioned, deeply absorbed +in thought, so that I found myself close behind them before I was aware of +their presence. Two of the party were in uniform, and by their plumes, +upon which a passing ray of moonlight flickered, I could detect they were +general officers; the third was a lady. Unable to pass them, and unwilling +to turn back, I was unavoidably compelled to follow, and however +unwilling, to overhear somewhat of their conversation. +</p> +<p> +“You mistake, George, you mistake! Depend upon it, this will be no +lengthened campaign; victory will soon decide for one side or the other. +If Napoleon beats the Prussians one day, and beat us the next, the German +States will rally to his standard, and the old confederation of the Rhine +will spring up once more in all the plenitude of its power. The <i>Champ +de Mai</i> has shown the enthusiasm of France for their Emperor. Louis +XVIII fled from his capital, with few to follow, and none to say, ‘God +bless him!’ The warlike spirit of the nation is roused again; the interval +of peace, too short to teach habits of patient and enduring industry, is +yet sufficient to whet the appetite for carnage; and nothing was wanting, +save the presence of Napoleon alone, to restore all the brilliant +delusions and intoxicating splendors of the empire.” +</p> +<p> +“I confess,” said the other, “I take a very different view from yours in +this matter; to me, it seems that France is as tired of battles as of the +Bourbons—” +</p> +<p> +I heard no more; for though the speaker continued, a misty confusion +passed across my mind. The tones of his voice, well-remembered as they +were by me, left me unable to think; and as I stood motionless on the +spot, I muttered half aloud, “Sir George Dashwood.” It was he, indeed; and +she who leaned upon his arm could be no other than Lucy herself. I know +not how it was; for many a long month I had schooled my heart, and taught +myself to believe that time had dulled the deep impression she had made +upon me, and that, were we to meet again, it would be with more sorrow on +my part for my broken dream of happiness than of attachment and affection +for her who inspired it; but now, scarcely was I near her—I had not +gazed upon her looks, I had not even heard her voice—and yet, in all +their ancient force, came back the early passages of my love; and as her +footfall sounded gently upon the ground, my heart beat scarce less +audibly. Alas, I could no longer disguise from myself the avowal that she +it was, and she only, who implanted in my heart the thirst for +distinction; and the moment was ever present to my mind in which, as she +threw her arms around her father’s neck, she muttered, “Oh, why not a +soldier!” +</p> +<p> +As I thus reflected, an officer in full dress passed me hurriedly, and +taking off his hat as he came up with the party before me, bowed +obsequiously. +</p> +<p> +“My Lord ——, I believe, and Sir George Dashwood?” They replied +by a bow. “Sir Thomas Picton wishes to speak with you both for a moment; +he is standing beside the ‘Basin.’ If you will permit—” said he, +looking towards Lucy. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, sir,” said Sir George; “if you will have the goodness to +accompany us, my daughter will wait our coming here. Sit down, Lucy, we +shall not be long away.” +</p> +<p> +The next moment she was alone. The last echoes of their retiring footsteps +had died away in the grassy walk, and in the calm and death-like stillness +I could hear every rustle of her silk dress. The moonlight fell in fitful, +straggling gleams between the leafy branches, and showed me her +countenance, pale as marble. Her eyes were upturned slightly; her brown +hair, divided upon her fair forehead, sparkled with a wreath of +brilliants, which heightened the lustrous effect of her calm beauty; and +now I could perceive her dress bespoke that she had been at some of the +splendid entertainments which followed day after day in the busy capital. +</p> +<p> +Thus I stood within a few paces of <i>her</i>, to be near to whom, a few +hours before, I would willingly have given all I possessed in the world; +and yet now a barrier, far more insurmountable than time and space, +intervened between us; still it seemed as though fortune had presented +this incident as a last farewell between us. Why should I not take +advantage of it? Why should I not seize the only opportunity that might +ever occur of rescuing myself from the apparent load of ingratitude which +weighed on my memory? I felt in the cold despair of my heart that I could +have no hold upon her affection; but a pride, scarce less strong that the +attachment that gave rise to it, urged me to speak. By one violent effort +I summoned up my courage; and while I resolved to limit the few words I +should say merely to my vindication, I prepared to advance. Just at this +instant, however, a shadow crossed the path; a rustling sound was heard +among the branches, and the tall figure of a man in a dragoon cloak stood +before me. Lucy turned suddenly at the sound; but scarcely had her eyes +been bent in the direction, when, throwing off his cloak, he sprang +forward and dropped at her feet. All my feeling of shame at the part I was +performing was now succeeded by a sense of savage and revengeful hatred. +It was enough that I should be brought to look upon her whom I had lost +forever without the added bitterness of witnessing her preference for a +rival. The whirlwind passion of my brain stunned and stupefied me. +Unconsciously I drew my sword from my scabbard, and it was only as the +pale light fell upon the keen blade that the thought flashed across me, +“What could I mean to do?” +</p> +<p> +“No, Hammersley,”—it was he indeed,—said she, “it is unkind, +it is unfair, nay, it is unmanly to press me thus; I would not pain you, +were it not that, in sparing you now, I should entail deeper injury upon +you hereafter. Ask me to be your sister, your friend; ask me to feel +proudly in your triumphs, to glory in your success; all this I do feel; +but, oh! I beseech you, as you value your happiness, as you prize mine, +ask me no more than this.” +</p> +<p> +There was a pause of some seconds; and at length, the low tones of a man’s +voice, broken and uncertain in their utterance, said,— +</p> +<p> +“I know it—I feel it—my heart never bade me hope—and now—‘tis +over.” +</p> +<p> +He stood up as he spoke, and while he threw the light folds of his mantle +round him, a gleam of light fell upon his features. They were pale as +death; two dark circles surrounded his sunken eyes, and his bloodless lip +looked still more ghastly, from the dark mustache that drooped above it. +</p> +<p> +“Farewell!” said he, slowly, as he crossed his arms sadly upon his breast; +“I will not pain you more.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, go not thus from me!” said she, as her voice became tremulous with +emotion; “do not add to the sorrow that weighs upon my heart! I cannot, +indeed I cannot, be other than I am; and I do but hate myself to think +that I cannot give my love where I have given all my esteem. If time—” +But before she could continue further, the noise of approaching footsteps +was heard, and the voice of Sir George, as he came near. Hammersley +disappeared at once, and Lucy, with rapid steps, advanced to meet her +father, while I remained riveted upon the spot. What a torrent of emotions +then rushed upon my heart! What hopes, long dead or dying, sprang up to +life again! What visions of long-abandoned happiness flitted before me! +Could it be then—dare I trust myself to think it—that Lucy +cared for me? The thought was maddening! With a bounding sense of ecstasy, +I dashed across the park, resolving, at all hazards, to risk everything +upon the chance, and wait the next morning upon Sir George Dashwood. As I +thought thus, I reached my hotel, where I found Mike in waiting with a +letter. As I walked towards the lamp in the <i>porte cochere</i>, my eyes +fell upon the address. It was General Dashwood’s hand; I tore it open, and +read as follows:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dear Sir,—Circumstances into which you will excuse me entering, +having placed an insurmountable barrier to our former terms of +intimacy, you will, I trust, excuse me declining the honor of any +nearer acquaintance, and also forgive the liberty I take in informing +you of it, which step, however unpleasant to my feelings, will save +us both the great pain of meeting. + +I have only this moment heard of your arrival in Brussels, and +take thus the earliest opportunity of communicating with you. +With every assurance of my respect for you personally, and an +earnest desire to serve you in your military career, I beg to remain, + +Very faithfully yours, + +GEORGE DASHWOOD +</pre> +<p> +“Another note, sir,” said Mike, as he thrust into my unconscious hands a +letter he had just received from an orderly. +</p> +<p> +Stunned, half stupefied, I broke the seal. The contents were but three +lines:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Sir,—I have the honor to inform you that Sir Thomas Picton has +appointed you an extra aide-de-camp on his personal staff. You will, +therefore, present yourself to-morrow morning at the Adjutant-General’s +office, to receive your appointment and instructions. +I have the honor to be, etc., + +G. FITZROY. +</pre> +<p> +Crushing the two letters in my fevered hand, I retired to my room, and +threw myself, dressed as I was, upon my bed. Sleep, that seems to visit us +in the saddest as in the happiest times of our existence, came over me, +and I did not wake until the bugles of the Ninety-fifth were sounding the +reveille through the park, and the brightest beams of the morning sun were +peering through the window. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER L. +</h2> +<p> +AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley,” said a voice, as my door opened, and an officer in undress +entered,—“Mr. O’Malley, I believe you received your appointment last +night on General Picton’s staff?” +</p> +<p> +I bowed in reply, as he resumed:— +</p> +<p> +“Sir Thomas desires you will proceed to Courtrai with these despatches in +all haste. I don’t know if you are well mounted, but I recommend you, in +any case, not to spare your cattle.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he wished me a good-morning, and left me, in a state of no +small doubt and difficulty, to my own reflections. What the deuce was I to +do? I had no horse; I knew not where to find one. What uniform should I +wear? For, although appointed on the staff, I was not gazetted to any +regiment that I knew of, and hitherto had been wearing an undress frock +and a foraging cap; for I could not bring myself to appear as a civilian +among so many military acquaintances. No time was, however, to be lost; so +I proceeded to put on my old Fourteenth uniform, wondering whether my +costume might not cost me a reprimand in the very outset of my career. +Meanwhile I despatched Mike to see after a horse, caring little for the +time, the merits, or the price of the animal provided he served my present +purpose. +</p> +<p> +In less than twenty minutes my worthy follower appeared beneath my window, +surrounded by a considerable mob, who seemed to take no small interest in +the proceedings. +</p> +<p> +“What the deuce is the matter?” cried I, as I opened the sash and looked +out. +</p> +<p> +“Mighty little’s the matter, your honor; it’s the savages, here, that’s +admiring my horsemanship,” said Mike, as he belabored a tall, +scraggy-looking mule with a stick which bore an uncommon resemblance to a +broom-handle. +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean to do with that beast?” said I. “You surely don’t expect +me to ride a mule to Courtrai?” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, and if you don’t, you are likely to walk the journey; for there +isn’t a horse to be had for love or money in the town; but I am told that +Mr. Marsden is coming up to-morrow with plenty, so that you may as well +take the journey out of the soft horns as spoil a better; and if he only +makes as good use of his fore-legs as he does of his hind ones, he’ll +think little of the road.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0410.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Mickey Astonishes the Natives." +/><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +A vicious lash out behind served in a moment to corroborate Mike’s +assertion, and to scatter the crowd on every side. +</p> +<p> +However indisposed to exhibit myself with such a turn-out, my time did not +admit of any delay; and so, arming myself with my despatches, and having +procured the necessary information as to the road, I set out from the +Belle Vue, amidst an ill-suppressed titter of merriment from the mob, +which nothing but fear of Mike and his broomstick prevented becoming a +regular shout of laughter. +</p> +<p> +It was near night-fall as, tired and weary of the road, I entered the +little village of Halle. All was silent and noiseless in the deserted +streets; nor a lamp threw its glare upon the pavement, nor even a solitary +candle flickered through the casement. Unlike a town, garrisoned by +troops, neither sentry nor outpost was to be met with; nothing gave +evidence that the place was held by a large body of men; and I could not +help feeling struck, as the footsteps of my mule were echoed along the +causeway, with the silence almost of desolation around me. By the creaking +of a sign, as it swung mournfully to and fro, I was directed to the door +of the village inn, where, dismounting, I knocked for some moments, but +without success. At length, when I had made an uproar sufficient to alarm +the entire village, the casement above the door slowly opened, and a head +enveloped in a huge cotton nightcap—so, at least, it appeared to me +from the size—protruded itself. After muttering a curse in about the +most barbarous French I ever heard, he asked me what I wanted there; to +which I replied, most nationally, by asking in return, where the British +dragoons were quartered. +</p> +<p> +“They have left for Nivelle this morning, to join some regiments of your +own country.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah! ah!” thought I, “he mistakes me for a Brunswicker;” to which, by the +uncertain light, my uniform gave me some resemblance. As it was now +impossible for me to proceed farther, I begged to ask where I could +procure accommodation for the night. +</p> +<p> +“At the burgomaster’s. Turn to your left at the end of this street, and +you will soon find it. They have got some English officers there, who, I +believe in my soul, never sleep.” +</p> +<p> +This was, at least, pleasant intelligence, and promised a better +termination to my journey than I had begun to hope for; so wishing my +friend a good-night, to which he willingly responded, I resumed my way +down the street. As he closed the window, once more leaving me to my own +reflections, I began to wonder within myself to what arm of the service +belonged these officers to whose convivial gifts he bore testimony. As I +turned the corner of the street, I soon discovered the correctness of his +information. A broad glare of light stretched across the entire pavement +from a large house with a clumsy stone portico before it. On coming +nearer, the sound of voices, the roar of laughter, the shouts of merriment +that issued forth, plainly bespoke that a jovial party were seated within. +The half-shutter which closed the lower part of the windows prevented my +obtaining a view of the proceedings; but having cautiously approached the +casement, I managed to creep on the window-sill and look into the room. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0412.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="The Gentlemen Who Never Sleep." +/><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +There the scene was certainly a curious one. Around a large table sat a +party of some twenty persons, the singularity of whose appearance may be +conjectured when I mention that all those who appeared to be British +officers were dressed in the robes of the <i>échevins</i> (or aldermen) of +the village; while some others, whose looks bespoke them as sturdy +Flemings, sported the cocked hats and cavalry helmets of their associates. +He who appeared the ruler of the feast sat with his back towards me, and +wore, in addition to the dress of burgomaster, a herald’s tabard, which +gave him something the air of a grotesque screen at its potations. A huge +fire blazed upon the ample hearth, before which were spread several staff +uniforms, whose drabbled and soaked appearance denoted the reason of the +party’s change of habiliments. Every imaginable species of drinking-vessel +figured upon the board, from the rich flagon of chased silver to the +humble <i>cruche</i> we see in a Teniers picture. As well as I could hear, +the language of the company seemed to be French, or, at least, such an +imitation of that language as served as a species of neutral territory for +both parties to meet in. +</p> +<p> +He of the tabard spoke louder than the others, and although, from the +execrable endeavors he made to express himself in French, his natural +voice was much altered, there was yet something in his accents which +seemed perfectly familiar to me. +</p> +<p> +“Mosheer l’Abbey,” said he, placing his arm familiarly on the shoulder of +a portly personage, whose shaven crown strangely contrasted with a pair of +corked moustachios,—“Mosheer l’Abbey, nous sommes frères, et moi, +savez-vous, suis évèque,—‘pon my life it’s true; I might have been +Bishop of Saragossa, if I only consented to leave the Twenty-third. Je +suis bong Catholique. Lord bless you, if you saw how I loved the nunneries +in Spain! J’ai tres jolly souvenirs of those nunneries; a goodly company +of little silver saints; and this waistcoat you see—mong gilet—was +a satin petticoat of our Lady of Loretto.” +</p> +<p> +Need I say, that before this speech was concluded, I had recognized in the +speaker nobody but that inveterate old villain, Monsoon himself. +</p> +<p> +“Permettez, votre Excellence,” said a hale, jolly-looking personage on his +left, as he filled the major’s goblet with obsequious politeness. +</p> +<p> +“Bong engfong,” replied Monsoon, tapping him familiarly on the head. +“Burgomaster, you are a trump; and when I get my promotion, I’ll make you +prefect in a wine district. Pass the lush, and don’t look sleepy! +‘Drowsiness,’ says Solomon, ‘clothes a man in rags;’ and no man knew the +world better than Solomon. Don’t you be laughing, you raw boys. Never mind +them, Abbey; ils sont petits garçongs—fags from Eton and Harrow; +better judges of mutton broth than sherry negus.” +</p> +<p> +“I say, Major, you are forgetting this song you promised us.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said several voices together; “the song, Major! the song!” +</p> +<p> +“Time enough for that; we’re doing very well as it is. Upon my life, +though, they hold a deal of wine. I thought we’d have had them fit to +bargain with before ten, and see, it’s near midnight; and I must have my +forage accounts ready for the commissary-general by to-morrow morning.” +</p> +<p> +This speech having informed me the reason of the Major’s presence there, I +resolved to wait no longer a mere spectator of their proceedings; so +dismounting from my position, I commenced a vigorous attack upon the door. +</p> +<p> +It was some time before I was heard; but at length the door was opened, +and I was accosted by an Englishman, who, in a strange compound of French +and English, asked, “What the devil I meant by all that uproar?” +Determining to startle my old friend the major, I replied, that “I was +aide-de-camp to General Picton, and had come down on very unpleasant +business.” By this time the noise of the party within had completely +subsided, and from a few whispered sentences, and their thickened +breathing, I perceived that they were listening. +</p> +<p> +“May I ask, sir,” continued I, “if Major Monsoon is here?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” stammered out the ensign, for such he was. +</p> +<p> +“Sorry for it, for his sake,” said I; “but my orders are peremptory.” +</p> +<p> +A deep groan from within, and a muttered request to pass down the sherry, +nearly overcame my gravity; but I resumed:— +</p> +<p> +“If you will permit me, I will make the affair as short as possible. The +major, I presume, is here?” +</p> +<p> +So saying, I pushed forward into the room, where now a slight scuffling +noise and murmur of voices had succeeded silence. Brief as was the +interval of our colloquy, the scene within had, notwithstanding, undergone +considerable change. The English officers, hastily throwing off their +aldermanic robes, were busily arraying themselves in their uniforms, while +Monsoon himself, with a huge basin of water before him, was endeavoring to +wash the cork from his countenance in the corner of his tabard. +</p> +<p> +“Very hard upon me, all this; upon my life, so it is! Picton is always at +me, just as if we had not been school-fellows. The service is getting +worse every day. Regardez-moi, Curey, mong face est propre? Eh? There, +thank you. Good fellow the Curey is, but takes a deal of fluid. Oh, +Burgomaster! I fear it is all up with me! No more fun, no more +jollification, no more plunder—and how I did do it. Nothing like +watching one’s little chances! ‘The poor is hated even by his neighbor.’ +Oui, Curey, it is Solomon says that, and they must have had a heavy +poor-rate in his day to make him say so. Another glass of sherry!” +</p> +<p> +By this time I approached the back of the chair, and slapping him heartily +on the shoulder, called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Major, old boy, how goes it?” +</p> +<p> +“Eh?—what—how!—who is this? It can’t be—egad, sure +it is, though. Charley! Charley O’Malley, you scapegrace, where have you +been? When did you join?” +</p> +<p> +“A week ago, Major. I could resist it no longer. I did my best to be a +country gentleman, and behave respectably, but the old temptation was too +strong for me. Fred Power and yourself, Major, had ruined my education; +and here I am once more among you.” +</p> +<p> +“And so Picton and the arrest and all that, was nothing but a joke?” said +the old fellow, rolling his wicked eyes with a most cunning expression. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing more, Major, set your heart at rest.” +</p> +<p> +“What a scamp you are,” said he, with another grin. “Il est mon fils—il +est mon fils, Curey,” presenting me, as he spoke, while the burgomaster, +in whose eyes the major seemed no inconsiderable personage, saluted me +with profound respect. +</p> +<p> +Turning at once towards this functionary, I explained that I was the +bearer of important despatches, and that my horse—I was ashamed to +say my mule—having fallen lame, I was unable to proceed. +</p> +<p> +“Can you procure me a remount, Monsieur?” said I, “for I must hasten on to +Courtrai.” +</p> +<p> +“In half an hour you shall be provided, as well as with a mounted guide +for the road. Le fils de son Excellence,” said he, with emphasis, bowing +to the major as he spoke; who, in his turn, repaid the courtesy with a +still lower obeisance. +</p> +<p> +“Sit down, Charley; here is a clean glass. I am delighted to see you, my +boy! They tell me you have got a capital estate and plenty of ready. Lord, +we so wanted you, as there’s scarcely a fellow with sixpence among us. +Give me the lad that can do a bit of paper at three months, and always be +ready for a renewal. You haven’t got a twenty-pound note?” This was said +<i>sotto voce</i>. “Never mind; ten will do. You can give me the remainder +at Brussels. Strange, is it not, I have not seen a bit of clean bank paper +like this for above a twelvemonth!” This was said as he thrust his hand +into his pocket, with one of those peculiar leers upon his countenance +which, unfortunately, betrayed more satisfaction at his success than +gratitude for the service. “You are looking fat—too fat, I think,” +said he, scrutinizing me from head to foot; “but the life we are leading +just now will soon take that off. The slave-trade is luxurious indolence +compared to it. Post haste to Nivelle one day; down to Ghent the next; +forty miles over a paved road in a hand-gallop, and an aide-de-camp with a +watch in his hand at the end of it, to report if you are ten minutes too +late. And there is Wellington has his eye everywhere. There is not a truss +of hay served to the cavalry, nor a pair of shoes half-soled in the +regiment, that he don’t know of it. I’ve got it over the knuckles +already.” +</p> +<p> +“How so, Major? How was that?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, he ordered me to picket two squadrons of the Seventh, and a supper +was waiting. I didn’t like to leave my quarters, so I took up my telescope +and pitched upon a sweet little spot of ground on a hill; rather difficult +to get up, to be sure, but a beautiful view when you’re on it. ‘There is +your ground, Captain,’ said I, as I sent one of my people to mark the +spot. He did not like it much; however, he was obliged to go. And, would +you believe it?—so much for bad luck!—there turned out to be +no water within two miles of it—not a drop, Charley; and so, about +eleven at night, the two squadrons moved down into Grammont to wet their +lips, and what is worse, to report me to the commanding officer. And only +think! They put me under arrest because Providence did not make a river +run up a mountain!” +</p> +<p> +Just as the major finished speaking, the distant clatter of horses’ feet +and the clank of cavalry was heard approaching. We all rushed eagerly to +the door; and scarcely had we done so, when a squadron of dragoons came +riding up the street at a fast trot. +</p> +<p> +“I say, good people,” cried the officer, in French, “where does the +burgomaster live here?” +</p> +<p> +“Fred Power, ‘pon my life!” shouted the major. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, Monsoon, that you? Give me a tumbler of wine, old boy; you are sure +to have some, and I am desperately blown.” +</p> +<p> +“Get down, Fred, get down! We have an old friend here.” +</p> +<p> +“Who the deuce d’ye mean?” said he, as throwing himself from the saddle he +strode into the room. “Charley O’Malley, by all that’s glorious!” +</p> +<p> +“Fred, my gallant fellow!” said I. +</p> +<p> +“It was but this morning, Charley, that I so wished for you here. The +French are advancing, my lad. They have crossed the frontier; Zeithen’s +corps have been attacked and driven in; Blucher is falling back upon +Ligny; and the campaign is opened. But I must press forward. The regiment +is close behind me, and we are ordered to push for Brussels in all haste.” +</p> +<p> +“Then these despatches,” said I, showing my packet, “‘tis unnecessary to +proceed with?” +</p> +<p> +“Quite so. Get into the saddle and come back with us.” +</p> +<p> +The burgomaster had kept his word with me; so mounted upon a strong +hackney, I set out with Power on the road to Brussels. I have had occasion +more than once to ask pardon of my reader for the prolixity of my +narrative, so I shall not trespass on him here by the detail of our +conversation as we jogged along. Of me and my adventures he already knows +enough—perhaps too much. My friend Power’s career, abounding as it +did in striking incidents, and all the light and shadow of a soldier’s +life, yet not bearing upon any of the characters I have presented to your +acquaintance, except in one instance,—of that only shall I speak. +</p> +<p> +“And the senhora, Fred; how goes your fortune in that quarter?” +</p> +<p> +“Gloriously, Charley! I am every day expecting the promotion in my +regiment which is to make her mine.” +</p> +<p> +“You have heard from her lately, then?” +</p> +<p> +“Heard from her! Why, man, she is in Brussels.” +</p> +<p> +“In Brussels?” +</p> +<p> +“To be sure. Don Emanuel is in high favor with the duke, and is now +commissary-general with the army; and the senhora is the <i>belle</i> of +the Rue Royale, or at least, it’s a divided sovereignty between her and +Lucy Dashwood. And now, Charley, let me ask, what of her? There, there, +don’t blush, man. There is quite enough moonlight to show how tender you +are in that quarter.” +</p> +<p> +“Once for all, Fred, pray spare me on that subject. You have been far too +fortunate in your <i>affaire de coeur</i>, and I too much the reverse, to +permit much sympathy between us.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you not visit, then; or is it a cut between you?” “I have never met +her since the night of the masquerade of the villa—at least, to +speak to—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I must confess, you seem to manage your own affairs much worse than +your friends’; not but that in so doing you are exhibiting a very Irish +feature of your character. In any case, you will come to the ball? Inez +will be delighted to see you; and I have got over all my jealousy.” +</p> +<p> +“What ball? I never heard of it.” +</p> +<p> +“Never heard of it! Why, the Duchess of Richmond’s, of course. Pooh, pooh, +man! Not invited?—of course you are invited; the staff are never +left out on such occasions. You will find your card at your hotel on your +return.” +</p> +<p> +“In any case, Fred—” +</p> +<p> +“I shall insist upon your going. I have no <i>arrière pensée</i> about a +reconciliation with the Dashwoods, no subtle scheme, on my honor; but +simply I feel that you will never give yourself fair chances in the world, +by indulging your habit of shrinking from every embarrassment. Don’t be +offended, boy. I know you have pluck enough to storm a battery; I have +seen you under fire before now. What avails your courage in the field, if +you have not presence of mind in the drawing-room? Besides, everything +else out of the question, it is a breach of etiquette towards your chief +to decline such an invitation.” +</p> +<p> +“You think so?” +</p> +<p> +“Think so?—no; I am sure of it.” +</p> +<p> +“Then, as to uniform, Fred?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, as to that, easily managed. And now I think of it, they have sent me +an unattached uniform, which you can have; but remember, my boy, if I put +you in my coat, I don’t want you to stand in my shoes. Don’t forget also +that I am your debtor in horseflesh, and fortunately able to repay you. I +have got such a charger; your own favorite color, dark chestnut, and +except one white leg, not a spot about him; can carry sixteen stone over a +five-foot fence, and as steady as a rock under fire.” +</p> +<p> +“But, Fred, how are you—” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, never mind me; I have six in my stable, and intend to share with you. +The fact is, I have been transferred from one staff to another for the +last six months, and four of my number are presents. Is Mike with you? Ah, +glad to hear it; you will never get on without that fellow. Besides, it is +a capital thing to have such a connecting link with one’s nationality. No +fear of your ever forgetting Ireland with Mr. Free in your company. You +are not aware that we have been correspondents. A fact, I assure you. Mike +wrote me two letters; and such letters they were! The last was a Jeremiad +over your decline and fall, with a very ominous picture of a certain Miss +Baby Blake.” +</p> +<p> +“Confound the rascal!” +</p> +<p> +“By Jove, though, Charley, you were coming it rather strong with Baby. +Inez saw the letter, and as well as she could decipher Mike’s +hieroglyphics, saw there was something in it; but the name Baby puzzled +her immensely, and she set the whole thing down to your great love of +children. I don’t think that Lucy quite agreed with her.” +</p> +<p> +“Did she tell it to Miss Dashwood?” I inquired, with fear and trembling. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that she did; in fact, Inez never ceases talking of you to Lucy. But +come, lad, don’t look so grave. Let’s have another brush with the enemy; +capture a battery of their guns; carry off a French marshal or two; get +the Bath for your services, and be thanked in general orders,—and I +will wager all my <i>château en Espagne</i> that everything goes well.” +</p> +<p> +Thus chatting away, sometimes over the past, of our former friends and gay +companions, of our days of storm and sunshine; sometimes indulging in +prospects for the future, we trotted along, and as the day was breaking, +mounted the ridge of low hills, from whence, at the distance of a couple +of leagues, the city of Brussels came into view. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LI. +</h2> +<p> +THE DUCHESS OF RICHMOND’S BALL. +</p> +<p> +Whether we regard the illustrious and distinguished personages who +thronged around, or we think of the portentous moment in which it was +given, the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, on the night of the 15th of June, +1815, was not only one of the most memorable, but, in its interest, the +most exciting entertainment that the memory of any one now living can +compass. +</p> +<p> +There is always something of no common interest in seeing the bronzed and +war-worn soldier mixing in the crowd of light-hearted and brilliant +beauty. To watch the eye whose proud glance has flashed over the mail-clad +squadrons now bending meekly beneath the look of some timid girl; to hear +the voice that, high above the battle or the breeze, has shouted the +hoarse word “Charge!” now subdued into the low, soft murmur of flattery or +compliment. This, at any rate, is a picture full of its own charm; but +when we see these heroes of a hundred fights; when we look upon these +hardy veterans, upon whose worn brows the whitened locks of time are +telling, indulging themselves in the careless gayety of a moment, snatched +as it were from the arduous career of their existence, while the tramp of +the advancing enemy shakes the very soil they stand on, and where it may +be doubted whether each aide-de-camp who enters comes a new votary of +pleasure or the bearer of tidings that the troops of the foe are +advancing, and already the work of death has begun: this is, indeed, a +scene to make the heart throb, and the pulse beat high; this is a moment +second in its proud excitement only to the very crash and din of battle +itself. And into this entrancing whirlwind of passion and of pleasure, of +brilliant beauty and ennobled greatness, of all that is lovely in woman +and all that is chivalrous and heroic in man, I brought a heart which, +young in years, was yet tempered by disappointment; still, such was the +fascination, such the brilliancy of the spectacle, that scarcely had I +entered, than I felt a change come over me,—the old spirit of my +boyish ardor, that high-wrought enthusiasm to do something, to be +something which men may speak of, shot suddenly through me, and I felt my +cheek tingle and my temples throb, as name after name of starred and +titled officers were announced, to think that to me, also, the path of +glorious enterprise was opening. +</p> +<p> +“Come along, come along,” said Power, catching me by the arm, “you’ve not +been presented to the duchess. I know her. I’ll do it for you; or perhaps +it is better Sir Thomas Picton should. In any case, <i>filez</i> after me, +for the dark-eyed senhora is surely expecting us. There, do you see that +dark, intelligent-looking fellow leaning over the end of the sofa? That is +Alava. And there, you know who that is, that <i>beau ideal</i> of a +hussar? Look how jauntily he carries himself; see the careless but +graceful sling with which he edges through the crowd; and look! Mark his +bow! Did you see that, Charley? Did you catch the quick glance he shot +yonder, and the soft smile that showed his white teeth? Depend upon it, +boy, some fair heart is not the better nor the easier for that look.” +</p> +<p> +“Who is it?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Lord Uxbridge, to be sure; the handsomest fellow in the service; and +there goes Vandeleur, talking with Vivian; the other, to the left, is +Ponsonby.” +</p> +<p> +“But stay, Fred, tell me who that is?” For a moment or two, I had some +difficulty in directing his attention to the quarter I desired. The +individual I pointed out was somewhat above the middle size; his uniform +of blue and gold, though singularly plain, had a look of richness about +it; besides that, among the orders which covered his breast, he wore one +star of great brilliancy and size. This, however, was his least +distinction; for although surrounded on every side by those who might be +deemed the very types and pictures of their <i>caste</i>, there was +something in the easy but upright carriage of his head, the intrepid +character of his features, the bold and vigorous flashing of his deep blue +eye, that marked him as no common man. He was talking with an old and +prosy-looking personage in civilian dress; and while I could detect an +anxiety to get free from a tiresome companion, there was an air of +deferential, and even kind attention in his manner, absolutely +captivating. +</p> +<p> +“A thorough gentleman, Fred, whoever he be,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“I should think so,” replied Power, dryly; “and as our countrymen would +say, ‘The Devil thank him for it!’ That is the Prince of Orange; but see, +look at him now, his features have learned another fashion.” And true it +was; with a smile of the most winning softness, and with a voice, whose +slightly foreign accent took nothing from its interest, I heard him +engaging a partner for a waltz. +</p> +<p> +There was a flutter of excitement in the circle as the lady rose to take +his arm, and a muttered sound of, “How very beautiful, quelle est belle, +c’est un ange!” on all sides. I leaned forward to catch a glance as she +passed; it was Lucy Dashwood. Beautiful beyond anything I had ever seen +her, her lovely features lit up with pleasure and with pride, she looked +in every way worthy to lean upon the arm of royalty. The graceful majesty +of her walk, the placid loveliness of her gentle smile, struck every one +as she passed on. As for me, totally forgetting all else, not seeing or +hearing aught around me, I followed her with my eye until she was lost +among the crowd, and then, with an impulse of which I was not master, +followed in her steps. +</p> +<p> +“This way, this way,” said Power; “I see the senhora.” So saying, we +entered a little boudoir, where a party was playing at cards. Leaning on +the back of a chair, Inez was endeavoring, with that mixture of coquetry +and half malice she possessed, to distract the attention of the player. As +Power came near, she scarcely turned her head to give him a kind of saucy +smile; while, seeing me, she held out her hand with friendly warmth, and +seemed quite happy to meet me. +</p> +<p> +“Do, pray, take her away; get her to dance, to eat ice, or flirt with you, +for Heaven’s sake!” said the half-laughing voice of her victim. “I have +revoked twice, and misdealt four times since she has been here. Believe +me, I shall take it as the greatest favor, if you’ll—” +</p> +<p> +As he got thus far he turned round towards me, and I perceived it was Sir +George Dashwood. The meeting was as awkward for him as for me; and while a +deep flush covered my face, he muttered some unintelligible apology, and +Inez burst into a fit of laughter at the ludicrous <i>contretemps</i> of +our situation. +</p> +<p> +“I will dance with you now, if you like,” said she, “and that will be +punishing all three. Eh, Master Fred?” +</p> +<p> +So saying, she took my arm as I led her toward the ball-room. +</p> +<p> +“And so you really are not friends with the Dashwoods? How very provoking, +and how foolish, too! But really, Chevalier, I must say you treat ladies +very ill. I don’t forget your conduct to me. Dear me, I wish we could move +forward, there is some one pushing me dreadfully!” +</p> +<p> +“Get on, Ma’am, get on!” said a sharp, decided voice behind me. I turned, +half smiling, to see the speaker. It was the Duke of Wellington himself, +who, with his eye fixed upon some person at a distance, seemed to care +very little for any intervening obstruction. As I made way for him to pass +between us, he looked hardly at me, while he said in a short, quick way,— +</p> +<p> +“Know your face very well: how d’ye do?” With this brief recognition he +passed on, leaving me to console Inez for her crushed sleeve, by informing +her who had done it. +</p> +<p> +The ball was now at its height. The waltzers whirled past in the wild +excitement of the dance. The inspiriting strains of the music, the sounds +of laughter, the din, the tumult, all made up that strange medley which, +reacting upon the minds of those who cause it, increases the feeling of +pleasurable abandonment, making the old feel young, and the young +intoxicated with delight. +</p> +<p> +As the senhora leaned upon me, fatigued with waltzing, I was endeavoring +to sustain a conversation with her; while my thoughts were wandering with +my eyes to where I had last seen Lucy Dashwood. +</p> +<p> +“It must be something of importance; I’m sure it is,” said she, at the +conclusion of a speech of which I had not heard one word. “Look at General +Picton’s face!” +</p> +<p> +“Very pretty, indeed,” said I; “but the hair is unbecoming,” replying to +some previous observation she had made, and still lost in a revery. A +hearty burst of laughter was her answer as she gently shook my arm, +saying,— +</p> +<p> +“You really are too bad! You’ve never listened to one word I’ve been +telling you, but keep continually staring with your eyes here and there, +turning this way and looking that, and with a dull, vacant, and unmeaning +smile, answering at random, in the most provoking manner. There now, pray +pay attention, and tell me what that means.” As she said this, she pointed +with her fan to where a dragoon officer, in splashed and spattered +uniform, was standing talking to some three or four general officers. “But +here comes the duke; it can’t be anything of consequence.” +</p> +<p> +At the same instant the Duke of Wellington passed with the Duchess of +Richmond on his arm. +</p> +<p> +“No, Duchess; nothing to alarm you. Did you say ice?” +</p> +<p> +“There, you heard that, I hope!” said Inez; “there is nothing to alarm +us.” +</p> +<p> +“Go to General Picton at once; but don’t let it be remarked,” said an +officer, in a whisper, as he passed close by me. +</p> +<p> +“Inez, I have the greatest curiosity to learn what that new arrival has to +say for himself; and if you will permit me, I’ll leave you with Lady +Gordon for one moment—” +</p> +<p> +“Delighted, of all things. You are without exception, the most tiresome—Good-by.” +</p> +<p> +“Sans adieu,” said I, as I hurried through the crowd towards an open +window, on the balcony outside of which Sir Thomas Picton was standing. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Mr. O’Malley, have you a pencil? There, that’ll do. Ride down to +Etterbeeck with this order for Godwin. You have heard the news, I suppose, +that the French are in advance? The Seventy-ninth will muster in the +Grando Place. The Ninety-second and the Twenty-eighth along the Park and +the Boulevard. Napoleon left Fresnes this morning. The Prussians have +fallen back. Zeithen has been beaten. We march at once.” +</p> +<p> +“To-morrow, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir, to-night. There, don’t delay! But above all, let everything be +done quietly and noiselessly. The duke will remain here for an hour longer +to prevent suspicion. When you’ve executed your orders, come back here.” +</p> +<p> +I mounted the first horse I could find at the door, and galloped with top +speed over the heavy causeway to Etterbeeck. In two minutes the drum beat +to arms, and the men were mustering as I left. Thence I hastened to the +barracks of the Highland Brigade and the 28th Regiment; and before half an +hour, was back in the ball-room, where, from the din and tumult, I guessed +the scene of pleasure and dissipation continued unabated. As I hurried up +the staircase a throng of persons were coming down, and I was obliged to +step aside to let them pass. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, come here, pray,” said Picton, who, with a lady cloaked and hooded +leaning upon his arm, was struggling to make way through the crowd. “The +very man!” +</p> +<p> +“Will you excuse me if I commit you to the care of my aide-de-camp, who +will see you to your carriage? The duke has just desired to see me.” This +he said in a hurried and excited tone; and the same moment beckoned to me +to take the lady’s arm. +</p> +<p> +It was with some difficulty I succeeded in reaching the spot, and had only +time to ask whose carriage I should call for, ere we arrived in the hall. +</p> +<p> +“Sir George Dashwood’s,” said a low, soft voice, whose accents sank into +my very heart. Heaven! it was Lucy herself; it was her arm that leaned on +mine, her locks that fluttered beside me, her hand that hung so near, and +yet I could not speak. I tried one word; but a choking feeling in my +throat prevented utterance, and already we were upon the door-steps. +</p> +<p> +“Sir George Dashwood’s carriage,” shouted the footman, and the +announcement was repeated by the porter. The steps were hurried down; the +footman stood door in hand; and I led her forward, mute and trembling. Did +she know me? I assisted her as she stepped in; her hand touched mine: it +was the work of a second; to me it was the bliss of years. She leaned a +little forward; and as the servant put up the steps, said in her soft, +sweet tone, “Thank you, sir. Good-night.” +</p> +<p> +I felt my shoulder touched by some one who, it appeared, was standing +close to me for some seconds; but so occupied was I in gazing at her that +I paid no attention to the circumstance. The carriage drove away and +disappeared in the thick darkness of a starless night. I turned to +re-enter the house, and as I did so, the night lamp of the hall fell upon +the features of the man beside me, and showed me the pale and corpse-like +face of Fred Hammersley. His eye was bent upon me with an expression of +fierce and fiery passion, in which the sadness of long-suffering also +mingled. His bloodless lips parted, moved as though speaking, while yet no +sound issued; and his nostril, dilating and contracting by turns, seemed +to denote some deep and hidden emotion that worked within him. +</p> +<p> +“Hammersley,” said I, holding out my hand towards him,—“Hammersley, +do not always mistake me?” +</p> +<p> +He shook his head mournfully as it fell forward upon his breast, and +covering his arm, moved slowly away without speaking. +</p> +<p> +General Picton’s voice as he descended the stairs, accompanied by Generals +Vandeleur and Vivian, aroused me at once, and I hurried towards him. +</p> +<p> +“Now, sir, to horse. The troops will defile by the Namur gate, and meet me +there in an hour. Meanwhile tell Colonel Cameron that he must march with +the light companies of his own and the Ninety-second at once.” +</p> +<p> +“I say, Picton, they’ll say we were taken by surprise in England; won’t +they?” said a sharp, strong voice, in a half-laughing tone from behind. +</p> +<p> +“No, your Grace,” said Sir Thomas, bowing slightly; “they’ll scarcely do +so when they hear the time we took to get under arms.” +</p> +<p> +I heard no more; but throwing myself into the saddle of my troop horse, +once more rode back to the Belle Vue to make ready for the road. +</p> +<p> +The thin pale crescent of a new moon, across which masses of dark and inky +clouds were hurrying, tipped with its faint and sickly light the tall +minarets of the Hotel de Ville, as I rode into the Grande Place. Although +midnight, the streets were as crowded as at noonday; horse, foot, and +dragoons passing and hurrying hither; the wild pibroch of the Highlander; +the mellow bugle of the Seventy-first; the hoarse trumpet of the cavalry; +the incessant roll of the drum,—mingled their sounds with the tide +of human voices, in which every accent was heard, from the reckless cheer +of anticipated victory, to the heart-piercing shriek of woman’s agony. +Lights gleamed from every window; from the doors of almost every house +poured forth a crowd of soldiers and townsfolk. The sergeants, on one +side, might be seen telling off their men, their cool and steady +countenances evidencing no semblance of emotion; while near them some +young ensign, whose beardless cheek and vacant smile bespoke the mere boy, +looked on with mingled pride and wonder at the wild scene before him. +Every now and then some general officer with his staff came cantering +past; and as the efforts to muster and form the troops grew more pressing, +I could mark how soon we were destined to meet the enemy. +</p> +<p> +There are few finer monuments of the architecture of the Middle Ages than +the Grande Place of Brussels,—the rich façade of the Hôtel de Ville, +with its long colonnade of graceful arches, upon every keystone of which +some grim, grotesque head is peering; the massive cornices; the heavy +corbels carved into ten thousand strange and uncouth fancies; but finer +than all, the taper and stately spire, fretted and perforated like some +piece of silver filigree, stretches upward towards the sky, its airy +pinnacle growing finer and more beautiful as it nears the stars it points +to. How full of historic associations is every dark embrasure, every +narrow casement around! Here may have stood the great emperor, Charles the +Fifth, meditating upon that greatness he was about to forego forever; here +from this tall window, may have looked the sad and sickly features of +Jeanne Laffolle, as with wandering eye and idiot smile she gazed upon the +gorgeous procession beneath. There is not a stone that has not echoed to +the tread of haughty prince or bold baron; yet never, in the palmiest days +of ancient chivalry, did those proud dwellings of the great of old look +out upon a braver and more valiant host than now thronged beneath their +shadow. It was indeed a splendid sight, where the bright gleams of torch +and lantern threw the red light around, to watch the measured tread and +steady tramp of the Highland regiments as they defiled into the open +space; each footstep as it met the ground, seeming in its proud and firm +tread, to move in more than sympathy with the wild notes of their native +mountains; silent and still they moved along; no voice spoke within their +ranks, save that of some command to “Close up—take ground—to +the right—rear rank—close order.” Except such brief words as +these, or the low muttered praise of some veteran general as he rode down +the line, all was orderly and steady as on a parade. Meanwhile, from an +angle of the square, the band of an approaching regiment was heard; and to +the inspiriting quickness of “The Young May Moon,” the gallant +Twenty-eighth came forward and took up their ground opposite to the +Highlanders. +</p> +<p> +The deep bell of the Hôtel de Ville tolled one. The solemn sound rang out +and died away in many an echo, leaving upon the heart a sense of some +unknown depression; and there was something like a knell in the deep +cadence of its bay; and over many a cheek a rapid trace of gloomy thought +now passed; and true—too true, alas!—how many now listened for +the last time! +</p> +<p> +“March! march!” passed from front to rear; and as the bands burst forth +again in streams of spirit-stirring harmony, the Seventy-ninth moved on; +the Twenty-eighth followed; and as they debouched from the “Place” the +Seventy-first and the Ninety-second succeeded them. Like wave after wave, +the tide of armed men pressed on, and mounted the steep and narrow street +towards the upper town of Brussels. Here Pack’s Brigade was forming in the +Place Royale; and a crowd of staff officers dictating orders, and writing +hurriedly on the drum-heads, were also seen. A troop of dragoons stood +beside their horses at the door of the Belle Vue, and several grooms with +led horses walked to and fro. +</p> +<p> +“Ride forward, sir, to the Bois de Cambre,” said Picton, “and pivot the +troops on the road to Mont St. Jean. You will then wait for my coming up, +or further orders.” +</p> +<p> +This command, which was given to me, I hastened to obey; and with +difficulty forcing my way through the opposing crowd, at length reached +the Namur gate. Here I found a detachment of the Guards, who as yet had +got no orders to march, and were somewhat surprised to learn the forward +movement. Ten minutes’ riding brought me to the angle of the wood, whence +I wrote a few lines to my host of the Belle Vue, desiring him to send Mike +after me with my horses and my kit. The night was cold, dark, and +threatening; the wind howled with a low and wailing cry through the dark +pine-trees; and as I stood alone and in solitude, I had time to think of +the eventful hours before me, and of that field which ere long was to +witness the triumph or the downfall of my country’s arms. The road which +led through the forest of Soignies caught an additional gloom from the +dark, dense woods around. The faint moon only showed at intervals; and a +lowering sky, without a single star, stretched above us. It was an awful +and a solemn thing to hear the deep and thundering roll of that mighty +column, awakening the echoes of the silent forest as they went. So hurried +was the movement that we had scarcely any artillery, and that of the +lightest calibre; but the clash and clank of the cavalry, the heavy, +monotonous tramp of infantry were there; and as division followed after +division, staff officers rode hurriedly to and fro, pressing the eager +troops still on. +</p> +<p> +“Move up there, Ninety-fifth. Ah, Forty-second, we’ve work before us!” +said Picton, as he rode up to the head of his brigade. The air of +depression which usually sat upon his careworn features now changed for a +light and laughing look, while his voice was softened and subdued into a +low and pleasing tone. Although it was midsummer, the roads were heavy and +deep with mud. For some weeks previously the weather had been rainy; and +this, added to the haste and discomfort of the night march, considerably +increased the fatigue of the troops. Notwithstanding these disadvantages, +not a murmur nor complaint was heard on any side. +</p> +<p> +“I’m unco glad to get a blink o’ them, onyhow,” said a tall, raw-boned +sergeant, who marched beside me. +</p> +<p> +“Faith, and may be you won’t be over pleased at the expression of their +faces, when you see them,” said Mike, whose satisfaction at the prospect +before him was still as great as that of any other amidst the thousands +there. +</p> +<p> +The day was slowly breaking, as a Prussian officer, splashed and covered +with foam, came galloping up at full speed past us. While I was yet +conjecturing what might be the intelligence he brought, Power rode up to +my side. +</p> +<p> +“We’re in for it, Charley,” said he. “The whole French army are in march; +and Blucher’s aide-de-camp, who has arrived, gives the number at one +hundred and fifty thousand men. The Prussians are drawn up between St. +Amand and Sombref, and the Nassau and Dutch troops are at Quatre Bras, +both expecting to be attacked.” +</p> +<p> +“Quatre Bras was the original rallying spot for our troops, was it not?” +said I. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes. It is that we’re now marching upon; but our Prussian friend +seems to think we shall arrive too late. Strong French corps are already +at Fresnes, under the command, it is said, of Marshal Ney.” +</p> +<p> +The great object of the British commander-in-chief was to arrive at Quatre +Bras in sufficient time to effect his junction with Blucher before a +battle should be fought. To effect this no exertion was spared: efforts +almost super-human were made; for, however prepared for a forward +movement, it was impossible to have anticipated anything until the +intentions of Napoleon became clearly manifest. While Nivelles and +Charleroi were exposed to him on one side, Namur lay open on the other; +and he could either march upon Brussels, by Mons or Halle, or, as he +subsequently attempted, by Quatre Bras and Waterloo. No sooner, however, +were his intentions unmasked, and the line of his operations manifested, +than Lord Wellington, with an energy equal to the mighty occasion that +demanded it, poured down with the whole force under his command to meet +him. +</p> +<p> +The march was a most distressing one; upward of three-and-twenty miles, +with deep and cut-up roads, in hot, oppressive weather, in a country +almost destitute of water. Still the troops pressed forward, and by noon +came within hearing of the heavy cannonade in front, which indicated the +situation of the battle. From this time aide-de-camp followed aide-de-camp +in quick succession, who, from their scared looks and hurried gestures, +seemed to bode but ill-fortune to the cause we cared for. What the precise +situation of the rival armies might be we knew not; but we heard the +French were in overwhelming numbers; that the Dutch troops had abandoned +their position; the Hanoverians being driven back, the Duke of Brunswick—the +brave sovereign of a gallant people—fell charging at the head of his +black hussars. From one phrase which constantly met our ears, it seemed +that the Bois de Bossu was the key of the position. This had been won and +lost repeatedly by both sides; and as we neared the battle-field a +despatch hurriedly announced to Picton the importance of at once +recovering this contested point. The Ninety-fifth were ordered up to the +attack. Scarcely was the word given, when fatigue, thirst, and exhaustion +were forgotten; with one cheer the gallant regiment formed into line, and +advanced upon the wood. Meanwhile the Highland Brigade moved down towards +the right; the Royals and the Twenty-eighth debouched upon the left of the +road; and in less than half an hour after our arrival our whole force was +in action. +</p> +<p> +There is something appalling, to the bravest army, in coming up to battle +at the time that an overwhelming and conquering foe are carrying victory +triumphantly before them: such was our position at Quatre Bras. Bravely +and gloriously as the forces of the Prince of Orange fought, the day, +however, was not theirs. The Bois de Bossu, which opened to the enemy the +road to Brussels, was held by their tirailleurs; the valley to the right +was rode over by their mounted squadrons, who with lance and sabre carried +all before them; their dark columns pressed steadily on; and a +death-dealing artillery swept the allied ranks from flank to flank. Such +was the field when the British arrived, and throwing themselves into +squares, opposed their unaided force to the dreadful charges of the enemy. +The batteries showered down their storms of grape; Milhaud’s Heavy +Dragoons, assisted by crowds of lancers, rushed upon the squares, but they +stood unbroken and undaunted, as sometimes upon three sides of their +position the infuriated horsemen of the enemy came down. Once, and once +only, were the French successful; the 42d, who were stationed amidst tall +corn-fields, were surrounded with cavalry before they knew it. The word +was given to form square; the Lancers were already among them, and +fighting back to back, the gallant Highlanders met the foe. Fresh numbers +poured down upon them, and already half the regiment was disabled and +their colonel killed. These brave fellows were rescued by the 44th, who, +throwing in a withering volley, fixed bayonets and charged. Meanwhile the +95th had won and lost the wood, which, now in the possession of the French +tirailleurs, threatened to turn the left of our position. It was at this +time that a body of cavalry were seen standing to the left of the Enghien +road, as if in observation. An officer sent forward to reconnoitre, +returned with the intelligence that they were British troops, for he had +seen their red uniforms. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t think it, sir,” said Picton. “It is hardly possible that any +regiment from Enghien could have arrived already. Ride forward, O’Malley, +and if they be our fellows, let them carry that height yonder; there are +two guns there cutting the 92d to pieces.” +</p> +<p> +I put spurs to my horse, cleared the road at once, and dashing across the +open space to the left of the wood, rode on in the direction of the +horsemen. When I came within the distance of three hundred yards I +examined them with my glass, and could plainly detect the scarlet coats +and bright helmets. “Ha,” thought I, “the 1st Dragoon Guards, no doubt.” +Muttering to myself thus much, I galloped straight on; and waving my hand +as I came near, announced that I was the bearer of an order. Scarcely had +I done so, when four horsemen, dashing spurs into their steeds, plunged +hastily out from the line, and before I could speak, surrounded me. While +the foremost called out, as he flourished his sabre above his head, +“Rendez-vous!” At the same moment I was seized on each side, and led back +a captive into the hands of the enemy. +</p> +<p> +“We guess your mistake, Capitaine,” said the French officer before whom I +was brought. “We are the regiment of Berg, and our scarlet uniform cost us +dearly enough yesterday.” +</p> +<p> +This allusion, I afterwards learned, was in reference to a charge by a +cuirassier regiment, which, in mistaking them for English, poured a volley +into them, and killed and wounded about twenty of their number. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LII. +</h2> +<p> +QUATRE BRAS. +</p> +<p> +Those who have visited the field of Quatre Bras will remember that on the +left of the high road, and nearly at the extremity of the Bois de Bossu, +stands a large Flemish farm-house, whose high pitched roof, pointed +gables, and quaint, old-fashioned chimneys, remind one of the architecture +so frequently seen in Tenier’s pictures. The house, which, with its +dependencies of stables, granaries, and out-houses, resembles a little +village, is surrounded by a large, straggling orchard of aged fruit-trees, +through which the approach from the high road leads. The interior of this +quaint dwelling, like all those of its class, is only remarkable for a +succession of small, dark, low-ceiled rooms, leading one into another; +their gloomy aspect increased by the dark oak furniture, the heavy +armories, and old-fashioned presses, carved in the grotesque taste of the +sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Those who visit it now may mark the +trace of cannon-shot here and there through the building; more than one +deep crack will attest the force of the dread artillery. Still the +traveller will feel struck with the rural peace and quietude of the scene; +the speckled oxen that stand lowing in the deep meadows; the splash of the +silvery trout as he sports in the bright stream that ripples along over +its gravelly bed; the cawing of the old rooks in the tall beech-trees; but +more than all, the happy laugh of children,—speak of the spot as one +of retired and tranquil beauty; yet when my eyes opened upon it on the +morning of the 17th of June, the scene presented features of a widely +different interest. The day was breaking as the deep, full sound of the +French bugles announced the reveille. Forgetful of where I was, I sprang +from my bed and rushed to the window; the prospect before me at once +recalled me to my recollection, and I remembered that I was a prisoner. +The exciting events around left me but little time and as little +inclination to think over my old misfortunes; and I watched, with all the +interest of a soldier, the movement of the French troops in the orchard +beneath. A squadron of dragoons, who seemed to have passed the night +beside their horses, lay stretched or seated in all the picturesque +groupings of a bivouac,—some already up and stirring; others leaned +half listlessly upon their elbows, and looked about as if unwilling to +believe the night was over; and some, stretched in deep slumber, woke not +with the noise and tumult around them. The room in which I was confined +looked out upon the road to Charleroi; I could therefore see the British +troops; and as the French army had fallen back during the night, only an +advanced guard maintaining the position, I was left to my unaided +conjectures as to the fortune of the preceding day of battle. What a +period of anxiety and agitation was that morning to me; what would I not +have given to learn the result of the action since the moment of my +capture! Stubborn as our resistance had been, we were evidently getting +the worst, of it; and if the Guards had not arrived in time, I knew we +must have been beaten. +</p> +<p> +I walked up and down my narrow room, tortured and agonized by my doubts, +now stopping to reason over the possibilities of success, now looking from +the window to try if, in the gesture and bearing of those without, I could +conjecture anything that passed. Too well I knew the vaunting character of +the French soldier, in defeat as in victory, to put much confidence in +their bearing. While, however, I watched them with an eager eye, I heard +the tramp of horsemen coming along the paved causeway. From the moment my +ear caught the sound to that of their arrival at the gate of the orchard, +but few minutes elapsed; their pace was indeed a severe one, and as they +galloped through the narrow path that led to the farm-house, they never +drew rein till they reached the porch. The party consisted of about a +dozen persons whose plumed hats bespoke them staff officers; but their +uniforms were concealed beneath their great-coats. As they came along the +picket sprang to their feet, and the guard at the door beneath presented +arms. This left no doubt upon my mind that some officer of rank was among +them, and as I knew that Ney himself commanded on the preceding day, I +thought it might be he. The sound of voices beneath informed me that the +party occupied the room under that in which I was, and although I listened +attentively I could hear nothing but the confused murmur of persons +conversing together without detecting even a word. My thoughts now fell +into another channel, and as I ruminated over my old position, I heard the +noise of the sentry at my door as he brought his musket to the shoulder, +and the next moment an officer in the uniform of the Chasseurs of the +Guard entered. Bowing politely as he advanced to the middle of the room, +he addressed me thus:— +</p> +<p> +“You speak French, sir?” and as I replied in the affirmative, continued:— +</p> +<p> +“Will you, then, have the goodness to follow me this way?” +</p> +<p> +Although burning with anxiety to learn what had taken place, yet somehow I +could not bring myself to ask the question. A secret pride mingled with my +fear that all had not gone well with us, and I durst not expose myself to +hear of our defeat from the lips of an enemy. I had barely time to ask +into whose presence I was about to be ushered, when with a slight smile of +a strange meaning, he opened the door and introduced me into the saloon. +Although I had seen at least twelve or fourteen horsemen arrive, there +were but three persons in the room as I entered. One of these, who sat +writing at a small table near the window, never lifted his head on my +entrance, but continued assiduously his occupation. Another, a tall, +fine-looking man of some sixty years or upward, whose high, bald forehead +and drooping mustache, white as snow, looked in every way the old soldier +of the empire, stood leaning upon his sabre; while the third, whose +stature, somewhat below the middle size, was yet cast in a strong and +muscular mould, stood with his back to the fire, holding on his arms the +skirts of a gray surtout which he wore over his uniform; his legs were +cased in the tall <i>bottes à l’écuyère</i> worn by the <i>chasseur à +cheval</i>, and on his head a low cocked hat, without plume or feather, +completed his costume. There was something which, at the very moment of my +entrance, struck me as uncommon in his air and bearing, so much so that +when my eyes had once rested on his pale but placid countenance, his +regular, handsome, but somewhat stern features, I totally forgot the +presence of the others and looked only at him. +</p> +<p> +“What’s your rank, sir?” said he, hurriedly, and with a tone which bespoke +command. +</p> +<p> +“I have none at present, save—” +</p> +<p> +“Why do you wear your epaulettes then, sir?” said he, harshly, while from +his impatient look, and hurried gesture, I saw that he put no faith in my +reply. +</p> +<p> +“I am an aide-de-camp to General Picton, but without regimental rank.” +</p> +<p> +“What was the British force under arms yesterday?” +</p> +<p> +“I do not feel at liberty to give you any information as to the number or +the movements of our army.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Diantre! Diantre!</i>” said he, slapping his boot with his horsewhip, +“do you know what you’ve been saying there, eh? Cambronne, you heard him, +did you?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Sire, and if your Majesty would permit me to deal with him, I would +have his information, if he possess any, and that ere long, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Eh, <i>gaillard</i>,” said he, laughing, as he pinched the old general’s +ear in jest, “I believe you, with all my heart.” +</p> +<p> +The full truth flashed upon my mind. I was in presence of the Emperor +himself. As, however, up to this moment I was unconscious of his presence, +I resolved now to affect ignorance of it throughout. +</p> +<p> +“Had you despatches, sir?” said he, turning towards me with a look of +stern severity. “Were any despatches found upon him when he was taken?” +This latter question was directed to the aide-de-camp who introduced me, +and who still remained at the door. +</p> +<p> +“No, Sire, nothing was found upon him except this locket.” +</p> +<p> +As he said these words he placed in Napoleon’s hands the keepsake which +St. Croix had left with me years before in Spain, and which, as the reader +may remember, was a miniature of the Empress Josephine. +</p> +<p> +The moment the Emperor threw his eyes upon it, the flush which excitement +had called into his cheek disappeared at once. He became pale as death, +his very lips as bloodless as his wan cheek. +</p> +<p> +“Leave me, Lefebvre; leave me, Cambronne, for a moment. I will speak with +this gentleman alone.” +</p> +<p> +As the door closed upon them he leaned his arm upon the mantelpiece, and +with his head sunk upon his bosom, remained some moments without speaking. +</p> +<p> +“Augure sinistre!” muttered he within his teeth, as his piercing gaze was +riveted upon the picture before him. “Voilà la troisième fois peut-être la +dernière.” Then suddenly rousing himself, he advanced close to me, and +seizing me by the arm with a grasp like iron, inquired:— +</p> +<p> +“How came you by this picture? The truth, sir; mark me, the truth!” +</p> +<p> +Without showing any sign of feeling hurt at the insinuation of this +question, I detailed, in as few words as I could, the circumstance by +which the locket became mine. Long before I had concluded, however, I +could mark that his attention flagged, and finally wandered far away from +the matter before him. +</p> +<p> +“Why will you not give me the information I look for? I seek for no breach +of faith. The campaign is all but over. The Prussians were beaten at +Ligny, their army routed, their artillery captured, ten thousand prisoners +taken. Your troops and the Dutch were conquered yesterday, and they are in +full retreat on Brussels. By to-morrow evening I shall date my bulletin +from the palace at Laeken. Antwerp will be in my possession within +twenty-four hours. Namur is already mine. Cambronne, Lefebvre,” cried he, +“cet homme-là n’en sait rien,” pointing to me as he spoke; “let us see the +other.” With this he motioned slightly with his hand as a sign for me to +withdraw, and the next moment I was once more in the solitude of my +prison-room, thinking over the singular interview I had just had with the +great Emperor. +</p> +<p> +How anxiously pass the hours of one who, deprived of other means of +information, is left to form his conjectures by some passing object or +some chance murmur. The things which, in the ordinary course of life, are +passed by unnoticed and unregarded, are now matters of moment,—with +what scrutiny he examines the features of those whom he dare not question; +with what patient ear he listens to each passing word. Thus to me, a +prisoner, the hours went by tardily yet anxiously; no sabre clanked; no +war-horse neighed; no heavy-booted cuirassier tramped in the courtyard +beneath my window, without setting a hundred conjectures afloat as to what +was about to happen. For some time there had been a considerable noise and +bustle in and about the dwelling. Horsemen came and went continually. The +sounds of galloping could be heard along the paved causeway; then the +challenge of the sentry at the gate; then the nearer tread of approaching +stops, and many voices speaking together, would seem to indicate that some +messenger had arrived with despatches. At length all these sounds became +hushed and still. No longer were the voices heard; and except the measured +tread of the heavy cuirassier, as he paced on the flags beneath, nothing +was to be heard. My state of suspense, doubly greater now than when the +noise and tumult suggested food for conjecture, continued till towards +noon, when a soldier in undress brought me some breakfast, and told me to +prepare speedily for the road. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had he left the room, when the rumbling noise of wagons was heard +below, and a train of artillery carts moved into the little courtyard +loaded with wounded men. It was a sad and frightful sight to see these +poor fellows, as, crammed side by side in the straw of the <i>charrette</i>, +they lay, their ghastly wounds opening with every motion of the wagon, +while their wan, pale faces were convulsed with agony and suffering. Of +every rank, from the sous-lieutenant to the humble soldier, from every arm +of the service, from the heavy cuirassier of the guard to the light and +intrepid tirailleur, they were there. I well remember one, an +artillery-man of the guard, who, as they lifted him forth from the cart, +presented the horrifying spectacle of one both of whose legs had been +carried away by a cannon-shot. Pale, cold, and corpse-like, ha lay in +their arms; his head lay heavily to one side, his arms fell passively as +in death. It was at this moment a troop of lancers, the advanced guard of +D’Erlon’s Division, came trotting up the road; the cry of “Vive +l’Empereur!” burst from them as they approached; its echo rang within the +walls of the farm-house, when suddenly the dying man, as though some magic +touch had called him back to life and vigor, sprang up erect between his +bearers, his filmy eye flashing fire, a burning spot of red coloring his +bloodless cheek. He cast one wild and hurried look around him, like one +called back from death to look upon the living; and as he raised his +blood-stained hand above his head, shouted, in a heart-piercing cry, “Vive +l’Empereur!” The effort was his last. It was the expiring tribute of +allegiance to the chief he adored. The blood spouted in cataracts from his +half-closed wounds, a convulsive spasm worked through his frame, his eyes +rolled fearfully, as his outstretched hands seemed striving to clutch some +object before them, and he was dead. Fresh arrivals of wounded continued +to pour in; and now I thought I could detect at intervals the distant +noise of a cannonade. The wind, however, was from the southward, and the +sounds were too indistinct to be relied on. +</p> +<p> +“Allons, aliens, mon cher!” said a rough but good-humored looking fellow, +as he strode into my room. He was the quartermaster of Milhaud’s Dragoons, +under whose care I was now placed, and came to inform me that we were to +set out immediately. +</p> +<p> +Monsieur Bonnard was a character in his way; and if it were not so near +the conclusion of my history, I should like to present him to my readers. +As it is, I shall merely say he was a thorough specimen of one class of +his countrymen,—a loud talker, a louder swearer, a vaporing, +boasting, overbearing, good-natured, and even soft-hearted fellow, who +firmly believed that Frenchmen were the climax of the species, and +Napoleon the climax of Frenchmen. Being a great <i>bavard</i>, he speedily +told me all that had taken place during the last two days. From him I +learned that the Prussians had really been beaten at Ligny, and had fallen +back, he knew not where. They were, however, he said, hotly pursued by +Grouchy, with thirty-five thousand men, while the Emperor himself was now +following the British and Dutch armies with seventy thousand more. +</p> +<p> +“You see,” continued he, “l’affaire est faite! Who can resist the +Emperor?” +</p> +<p> +These were sad tidings for me; and although I did not place implicit +confidence in my informant, I had still my fears that much of what he said +was true. +</p> +<p> +“And the British, now,” said I, “what direction have they taken?” +</p> +<p> +“Bah, they’re in retreat on Brussels, and will probably capitulate +to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“Capitulate!” +</p> +<p> +“Oui, oui; ne vous fâchez pas, camarade,” said he, laughing. “What could +you do against Napoleon? You did not expect to beat him, surely? But come, +we must move on; I have my orders to bring you to Planchenoit this +evening, and our horses are tired enough already.” +</p> +<p> +“Mine, methinks, should be fresh,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu, mon!</i>” replied he; “he has twice made the journey to +Fresnes this morning with despatches for Marshal Ney; the Emperor is +enraged with the marshal for having retreated last night, having the wood +in his possession; he says he should have waited till daybreak, and then +fallen upon your retreating columns. As it is, you are getting away +without much loss. <i>Sacristie</i>, that was a fine charge!” These last +words he muttered to himself, adding, between his teeth, “Sixty-four +killed and wounded.” +</p> +<p> +“What was that? Who were they?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Our fellows,” replied he, frankly; “the Emperor ordered up two +twelve-pounders, and eight squadrons of lancers; they fell upon your light +dragoons in a narrow part of the high road. But suddenly we heard a noise +in front; your hussars fell back, and a column of your heavy dragoons came +thundering down upon us. <i>Parbleu!</i> they swept over us as if we were +broken infantry; and there! there!” said he, pointing to the courtyard, +from whence the groans of the wounded still rose,—“there are the +fruits of that terrible charge.” +</p> +<p> +I could not restrain an outbreak of triumphant pleasure at this gallant +feat of my countrymen. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said the honest quartermaster; “it was a fine thing; but a +heavy reckoning is at hand. But come, now, let us take the road.” +</p> +<p> +In a few moments more I found myself seated upon a heavy Norman horse, +whose lumbering demi-peak saddle was nearly cleft in two by a sabre-cut. +</p> +<p> +“Ay, ay,” said Monsieur Bonnard, as he saw my eye fixed on the spot, “it +was one of your fellows did that; and the same cut clove poor Pierre from +the neck to the seat.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope,” said I, laughing, “the saddle may not prove an unlucky one.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no,” said the Frenchman, seriously; “it has paid its debt to fate.” +</p> +<p> +As we pressed on our road, which, broken by the heavy guns, and ploughed +up in many places by the artillery, was nearly impassable, we could +distinctly hear from time to time the distant boom of the large guns, as +the retiring and pursuing armies replied to each other; while behind us, +but still a long way off, a dark mass appeared on the horizon: they were +the advancing columns of Ney’s Division. +</p> +<p> +“Have the troops come in contact more than once this morning?” +</p> +<p> +“Not closely,” said the quartermaster; “the armies have kept a respectful +distance; they were like nothing I can think of,” said the figurative +Frenchman, “except two hideous serpents wallowing in mire, and vomiting at +each other whole rivers of fire and flame.” +</p> +<p> +As we approached Planchenoit, we came up to the rear-guard of the French +army; from them we learned that Ney’s Division, consisting of the Eighth +Corps, had joined the Emperor; that the British were still in retreat, but +that nothing of any importance had occurred between the rival armies, the +French merely firing their heavy guns from time to time to ascertain by +the reply the position of the retreating forces. The rain poured down in +torrents; gusts of cold and stormy wind swept across the wide plains, or +moaned sorrowfully through the dense forest. As I rode on by the side of +my companion, I could not help remarking how little the effects of a +fatiguing march and unfavorable weather were apparent on those around me. +The spirit of excited gayety pervaded every rank; and unlike the stern +features which the discipline of our service enforces, the French soldiers +were talking, laughing and even singing, as they marched; the canteens +passed freely from hand to hand, and jests and toasts flew from front to +rear along the dark columns; many carried their loaves of dark rye-bread +on the tops of their bayonets; and to look upon that noisy and tumultuous +mass as they poured along, it would have needed a practised eye to believe +them the most disciplined of European armies. +</p> +<p> +The sun was just setting, as mounting a ridge of high land beside the high +road, my companion pointed with his finger to a small farm-house, which, +standing alone in the plain, commands an extensive view on every side of +it. +</p> +<p> +“There,” said he,—“there is the <i>quartier général</i>; the Emperor +sleeps there to-night. The King of Holland will afford him a bed to-morrow +night.” +</p> +<p> +The dark shadows of the coming night were rapidly falling as I strained my +eyes to trace the British position. A hollow, rumbling sound announced the +movement of artillery in our front. +</p> +<p> +“What is it, Arnotte?” said the quartermaster to a dragoon officer who +rode past. +</p> +<p> +“It is nothing,” replied the other, laughing, “but a <i>ruse</i> of the +Emperor. He wishes to ascertain if the enemy are in force, or if we have +only a strong rear-guard before us.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke fifteen heavy guns opened there fire, and the still air +reverberated with a loud thunder. The sound had not died away, the very +smoke lay yet heavily upon the moist earth, when forty pieces of British +cannon rang out their answer, and the very plain trembled beneath the +shock. +</p> +<p> +“Ha, they are there, then!” exclaimed the dragoon, as his eyes flashed +with ecstasy. “Look! see! the artillery are limbering up already. The +Emperor is satisfied.” +</p> +<p> +And so it was. A dark column of twelve hundred horse that accompanied the +guns into the plain, now wheeled slowly round, and wound their long track +far away to the right. The rain fell in torrents; the wind was hushed; and +as the night fell in darkness, the columns moved severally to their +destinations. The bivouacs were formed; the watch-fires were lighted; and +seventy thousand men and two hundred pieces of cannon occupied the heights +of Planchenoit. +</p> +<p> +“My orders are to bring you to La Caillon,” said the quartermaster; “and +if you only can spur your jaded horse into a trot, we shall soon reach +it.” +</p> +<p> +About a hundred yards from the little farm-house, stood a small cottage of +a peasant. Here some officers of Marshal Soult’s staff had taken up their +quarters; and thither my guide now bent his steps. +</p> +<p> +“Comment, Bonnard!” said an aide-de-camp, as we rode up. “Another +prisoner? <i>Sacrebleu!</i> We shall have the whole British staff among +us. You are in better luck than your countryman, the general, I hope,” +said the aide-decamp. “His is a sad affair; and I’m sorry for it, too. +He’s a fine, soldier-like looking fellow.” +</p> +<p> +“Pray, what has happened?” said I. “To what do you allude?” +</p> +<p> +“Merely to one of your people who has just been taken with some letters +and papers of Bourmont’s in his possession. The Emperor is in no very +amicable humor towards the traitor, and resolves to pay off some part of +his debt on his British correspondent.” +</p> +<p> +“How cruel! How unjust!” +</p> +<p> +“Why, yes, it is hard, I confess, to be shot for the fault of another. +Mais, que voulez-vous?” +</p> +<p> +“And when is this atrocious act to take place?” +</p> +<p> +“By daybreak to-morrow,” said he, bowing, as he turned towards the hut. +“Meanwhile, let me counsel you, if you would not make another in the +party, to reserve your indignation for your return to England.” +</p> +<p> +“Come along,” said the quartermaster; “I find they have got quarters for +you in the granary of the farm. I’ll not forget you at supper-time.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he gave his horse to an orderly, and led me by a little path to +a back entrance of the dwelling. Had I time or inclination for such a +scene, I might have lingered long to gaze at the spectacle before me. The +guard held their bivouac around the quarters of the Emperor; and here, +beside the watch-fires, sat the bronzed and scarred veterans who had +braved every death and danger, from the Pyramids to the Kremlin. On every +side I heard the names of those whom history has already consigned to +immortality; and as the fitful blaze of a wood-fire flashed from within +the house, I could mark the figure of one who, with his hands behind his +back, walked leisurely to and fro, his head leaned a little forward as +though in deep thought; but as the light fell upon his pale and placid +features, there was nothing there to indicate the stormy strife of hope +and fear that raged beneath. From the rapid survey I took around I was +roused by an officer, who, saluting me, politely desired me to follow him. +We mounted a flight of stone steps which, outside the wall of the +building, led to the upper story of a large but ruined granary. Here a +sentry was posted, who permitting us to pass forward, I found myself in a +small, mean-looking apartment, whose few articles of coarse furniture were +dimly lighted by the feeble glimmer of a lamp. At the farther end of the +room sat a man wrapped in a large blue cavalry cloak, whose face, covered +with his hands as he bent downward, was completely concealed from view. +The noise of the opening door did not appear to arouse him, nor did he +notice my approach. As I entered, a faint sigh broke from him, as he +turned his back upon the light; but he spoke not a word. +</p> +<p> +I sat for some time in silence, unwilling to obtrude myself upon the +sorrows of one to whom I was unknown; and as I walked up and down the +gloomy chamber, my thoughts became riveted so completely upon my own +fortunes that I ceased to remember my fellow-prisoner. The hours passed +thus lazily along, when the door suddenly opened, and an officer in the +dress of a lancer of the guard stood for an instant before me, and then, +springing forward, clasped me by both hands, and called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Charles, mon ami, c’est bien toi?” +</p> +<p> +The voice recalled to my recollections what his features, altered by time +and years, had failed to do. It was Jules St. Croix, my former prisoner in +the Peninsula. I cannot paint the delight with which I saw him again; his +presence now, while it brought back the memory of some of my happiest +days, also assured me that I was not friendless. +</p> +<p> +His visit was a brief one, for he was in attendance on Marshal Lobau’s +staff. In the few minutes, however, of his stay, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“I have a debt to pay, Charles, and have come to discharge it. In an hour +hence I shall leave this with despatches for the left of our line. Before +I go, I’ll come here with two or three others, as it were, to wish you a +good-night. I’ll take care to carry a second cloak and a foraging cap; +I’ll provide a fast horse; you shall accompany us for some distance. I’ll +see you safe across our pickets; for the rest, you must trust to yourself. +C’est arrangé, n’est-ce-pas?” +</p> +<p> +One firm grasp of his hand, to which I responded by another, followed, and +he was gone. +</p> +<p> +Everything concurred to show me that a tremendous battle must ensue on the +morrow, if the British forces but held their position. It was, then, with +a feeling of excitement approaching to madness that I saw my liberty +before me; that once more I should join in the bold charge and the rude +shock of arms, hear the wild cry of my gallant countrymen, and either live +to triumph with them in victory, or wait not to witness our defeat. Fast +flew my hopes, as with increasing impatience I waited St. Croix’s coming, +and with anxious heart listened to every sound upon the stairs which might +indicate his approach. At length he came. I heard the gay and laughing +voices of his companions as they came along; the door opened, and +affecting the familiarity of old acquaintance to deceive the sentry, they +all shook me by the hand and spoke in terms of intimacy. +</p> +<p> +“Labedoyère is below,” said St. Croix, in a whisper; “you must wait here a +few moments longer, and I’ll return for you; put on the cloak and cap, and +speak not a word as you pass out. The sentry will suppose that one of our +party has remained behind; for I shall call out as if speaking to him, as +I leave the room.” +</p> +<p> +The voice of an officer calling in tones of impatience for the party to +come down, cut short the interview; and again assuring me of their +determination to stand by me, they left the chamber and descended into the +court. Scarcely had the door closed behind them, when my fellow-prisoner, +whom I had totally forgotten, sprang on his legs and came towards me. His +figure screening the lamplight as he stood, prevented my recognizing his +features, but the first tones of his voice told me who he was. +</p> +<p> +“Stay, sir,” cried he, as he placed his hand upon my arm; “I have +overheard your project. In an hour hence you will be free. Can you—-will +you perform a service for one who will esteem it not the less that it will +be the last that man can render him? The few lines which I have written +here with my pencil are for my daughter.” +</p> +<p> +I could bear no more, and called out in a voice broken as his own,— +</p> +<p> +“Oh, be not deceived, sir. Will you, even in an hour like this, accept a +service from one whom you have banished from your house?” +</p> +<p> +The old man started as I spoke; his hand trembled till it shook my very +arm, and after a pause and with an effort to seem calm and collected, he +added,— +</p> +<p> +“My hours are few. Some despatches of General Bourmont with which the duke +intrusted me were found in my possession. My sentence is a hurried one, +and it is death. By to-morrow’s sunrise—” +</p> +<p> +“Stay, stay!” said I. “You shall escape; my life is in no danger. I have, +as you see, even friends among the staff. Besides, I have done nothing to +compromise or endanger my position.” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir,” said he, sternly, “I will not act such a part as this. The +tears you have seen in these old eyes are not for myself. I fear not +death. Better it were it should have come upon the field of glorious +battle; but as it is, my soldier’s honor is intact, untainted.” +</p> +<p> +“You refuse the service on account of him who proffers it,” said I, as I +fell heavily upon a seat, my head bowed upon my bosom. +</p> +<p> +“Not so, not so, my boy,” replied he, kindly. “The near approach of death, +like the fading light of day, gives us a longer and a clearer view before +us. I feel that I have wronged you; that I have imputed to you the errors +of others; but, believe me, if I have wronged you, I have punished my own +heart; for, Charles, I have loved you like a son.” +</p> +<p> +“Then prove it,” said I, “and let me act towards you as towards a father. +You will not? You refuse me still? Then, by Heaven, I remain to share your +fate! I well know the temper of him who has sentenced you, and that, by +one word of mine, my destiny is sealed forever.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no, boy! This is but rash and insane folly. Another year or two, nay, +perhaps a few months more, and in the common course of Nature I had ceased +to be; but you, with youth, with fortune, and with hope—” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, not with hope!” said I, in a voice of agony. +</p> +<p> +“Nay, say not so,” replied he, calmly, while a sickly smile played sadly +over his face; “you will give this letter to my daughter, you will tell +her that we parted as friends should part; and if after that, when time +shall have smoothed down her grief, and her sorrow be rather a dark dream +of the past than a present suffering,—if then you love her, and if—” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, tempt me not thus!” said I, as the warm tears gushed from my eyes. +“Lead me not thus astray from what my honor tells me I should do. Hark! +They are coming already. I hear the clank of their sabres; they are +mounting the steps; not a moment is to be lost! Do you refuse me still?” +</p> +<p> +“I do,” replied he, firmly; “I am resolved to bide my fate.” +</p> +<p> +“Then so do I,” cried I, as folding my arms, I sat down beside the window, +determined on my course. +</p> +<p> +“Charley, Charley,” said he, stooping over me, “my friend, my last hope, +the protector of my child—” +</p> +<p> +“I will not go,” said I, in a hollow whisper. +</p> +<p> +Already they were at the door; I heard their voices as they challenged the +sentry; I heard his musket as he raised it to his shoulder. The thought +flashed across me. I jumped up, and throwing the loose mantle of the +French dragoon around him, and replacing his own with the foraging cap of +St. Croix, I sprang into a corner of the room, and seating myself so as to +conceal my face, waited the result. The door opened, the party entered +laughing and talking together. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Eugène,” said one, taking Sir George by the arm, “you have spent +long enough time here to learn the English language. We shall be late at +the outpost. Messieurs les Anglais, good-night, good-night!” +</p> +<p> +This was repeated by the others as they passed out with Sir George +Dashwood among them, who, seeing that my determination was not to be +shaken, and that any demur on his part must necessarily compromise both, +yielded to a <i>coup-de-main</i> what he never would have consented to +from an appeal to his reason. The door closed; their steps died away in +the distance. Again a faint sound struck my ear; it was the challenge of +the sentry beneath, and I heard the tramp of horses’ feet. All was still, +and in a burst of heart-felt gratitude I sank upon my knees, and thanked +God that he was safe. +</p> +<p> +So soundly did I sleep, that not before I was shaken several times by the +shoulder could I awake on the following morning. +</p> +<p> +“I thought there were two prisoners here,” said a gruff voice, as an old +mustached-looking veteran cast a searching look about the room. “However, +we shall have enough of them before sunset. Get—get up; Monsieur le +Duc de Dalmatie desires some information you can give him.” +</p> +<p> +As he said this, he led me from the room; and descending the flight of +stone steps, we entered the courtyard. It was but four o’clock, the rain, +still falling in torrents, yet every one was up and stirring. +</p> +<p> +“Mount this horse,” said my gruff friend, “and come with me towards the +left; the marshal has already gone forward.” +</p> +<p> +The heavy mist of the morning, darkened by the lowering clouds which +almost rested on the earth, prevented our seeing above a hundred yards +before us; but the hazy light of the watch-fires showed me extent of the +French position, as it stretched away along the ridge towards the Halle +road. We rode forward at a trot, but in the deep clayey soil we sank at +each moment to our horses’ fetlocks. I turned my head as I heard the tramp +and splash of horsemen behind, and perceived that I was followed by two +dragoons, who, with their carbines on the rest, kept their eyes steadily +upon me to prevent any chance of escape. In a slight hollow of the ground +before us stood a number of horsemen, who conversed together in a low tone +as we came up. +</p> +<p> +“There, that is the marshal,” said my companion, in a whisper, as we +joined the party. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Monsieur le Duc,” said an engineer colonel, who stood beside Soult’s +horse with a colored plan in his hand,—“yes, that is the Château de +Goumont, yonder. It is, as you perceive, completely covered by the rising +ground marked here. They will doubtless place a strong artillery force in +this quarter.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, who is this?” said the marshal, turning his eyes suddenly upon me, +and then casting a look of displeasure around him, lest I should have +overheard any portion of their conversation. “You are deficient in +cavalry, it would appear, sir,” said he to me. +</p> +<p> +“You must feel, Monsieur le Duc,” said I, calmly, “how impossible it is +for me, as a man of honor and a soldier, to afford you any information as +to the army I belong to.” +</p> +<p> +“I do not see that, sir. You are a prisoner in our hands; your treatment, +your fortune, your very life depends on us. Besides, sir, when French +officers fall into the power of your people, I have heard they meet with +no very ceremonious treatment.” +</p> +<p> +“Those who say so, say falsely,” said I, “and wrong both your countrymen +and mine. In any case—” +</p> +<p> +“The Guards are an untried force in your service,” said he, with a mixture +of inquiry and assertion. +</p> +<p> +I replied not a word. +</p> +<p> +“You must see, sir,” continued he, “that all the chances are against you. +The Prussians beaten, the Dutch discouraged, the Belgians only waiting for +victory to incline to our standard, to desert your ranks and pass over to +ours; while your troops, scarcely forty thousand,—nay, I might say, +not more than thirty-five thousand. Is it not so?” +</p> +<p> +Here was another question so insidiously conveyed that even a change of +feature on my part might have given the answer. A half smile, however, and +a slight bow was all my reply; while Soult muttered something between his +teeth, which called forth a laugh from those around him. +</p> +<p> +“You may retire, sir, a little,” said he, dryly, to me. +</p> +<p> +Not sorry to be freed from the awkwardness of my position, I fell back to +the little rising ground behind. Although the rain poured down without +ceasing, the rising sun dispelled, in part, the heavy vapor, and by +degrees different portions of the wide plain presented themselves to view; +and as the dense masses of fog moved slowly along, I could detect, but +still faintly, the outline of the large, irregular building which I had +heard them call the Château de Goumont, and from whence I could hear the +clank of masonry, as, at intervals, the wind bore the sounds towards me. +These were the sappers piercing the walls for musketry; and this I could +now perceive was looked upon as a position of no small importance. +Surrounded by a straggling orchard of aged fruit-trees, the château lay +some hundred yards in advance of the British line, commanded by two +eminences,—one of which, in the possession of the French, was +already occupied by a park of eleven guns; of the other I knew nothing, +except the passing glance I had obtained of its position on the map. The +Second Corps, under Jerome Bonaparte, with Foy and Kellermann’s Brigade of +light artillery, stretched behind us. On the right of these came D’Erlon’s +Corps, extending to a small wood, which my companion told me was +Frischermont; while Lobau’s Division was stationed to the extreme right +towards St. Lambert, to maintain the communication with Grouchy at Wavre, +or, if need be, to repel the advance of the Prussians and prevent their +junction with the Anglo-Dutch army. The Imperial Guard, with the cavalry, +formed the reserve. Such was, in substance, the information given me by my +guide, who seemed to expatiate with pleasure over the magnificent array of +battle, while he felt a pride in displaying his knowledge of the various +divisions and their leaders. +</p> +<p> +“I see the marshal moving towards the right,” said he; “we had better +follow him.” +</p> +<p> +It was now about eight o’clock as from the extremity of the line I could +see a party of horsemen advancing at a sharp canter. +</p> +<p> +“That must be Ney,” said my companion. “See how rashly he approaches the +English lines!” +</p> +<p> +And so it was. The party in question rode fearlessly down the slope, and +did not halt until they reached within about three hundred yards of what +appeared a ruined church. +</p> +<p> +“What is that building yonder?” +</p> +<p> +“That—that,” replied he, after a moment’s thought,—“that must +be La Haye Sainte; and yonder, to the right of it, is the road to +Brussels. There, look now! Your people are in motion. See, a column is +moving towards the right, and the cavalry are defiling on the other side +of the road! I was mistaken, that cannot be Ney. <i>Sacre Dieu!</i> it was +the Emperor himself, and here he comes.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, the party galloped forward and pulled up short within a few +yards of where we stood. +</p> +<p> +“Ha!” cried he, as his sharp glance fell upon me, “there is my taciturn +friend of Quatre Bras. You see, sir, I can dispense with your assistance +now; the chess-board is before me;” and then added, in a tone he intended +not to be overheard, “Everything depends on Grouchy.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Haxo,” he called out to an officer who galloped up, <i>chapeau</i> +in hand, “what say you? Are they intrenched in that position?” +</p> +<p> +“No, Sire, the ground is open, and in two hours more will be firm enough +for the guns to manoeuvre.” +</p> +<p> +“Now, then, for breakfast,” said Napoleon, as with an easy and tranquil +smile he turned his horse’s head and cantered gently up the heights +towards La Belle Alliance. As he approached the lines, the cry of “Vive +l’Empereur!” burst forth. Regiment after regiment took it up; and from the +distant wood of Frischermont to the far left beside Merke-braine, the +shout resounded. So sudden, so simultaneous the outbreak, that he himself, +accustomed as he well was to the enthusiasm of his army, seemed as he +reined in his horse, and looked with proud and elated eye upon the +countless thousands, astounded and amazed. He lifted with slow and +graceful action his unplumed hat above his head, and while he bowed that +proud front before which kings have trembled, the acclamation burst forth +anew, and rent the very air. +</p> +<p> +At this moment the sun shone brilliantly from out the dark clouds, and +flashed upon the shining blades and glistening bayonets along the line. A +dark and lowering shadow hung gloomily over the British position, while +the French sparkled and glittered in the sunbeams. His quick glance passed +with lightning speed from one to the other; and I thought that, in his +look, upturned to heaven, I could detect the flitting thought which bade +him hope it was an augury. The bands of the Imperial Guard burst forth in +joyous and triumphant strains; and amidst the still repeated cries of +“L’Empereur! l’Empereur!” he rode slowly along towards La Belle Alliance. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LIII. +</h2> +<p> +WATERLOO. +</p> +<p> +Napoleon’s first intention was to open the battle by an attack upon the +extreme right; but Ney, who returned from an observation of the ground, +informed him that a rivulet swollen by the late rains had now become a +foaming torrent perfectly impassable to infantry. To avoid this difficulty +he abandoned his favorite manoeuvre of a flank movement, and resolved to +attack the enemy by the centre. Launching his cavalry and artillery by the +road to Brussels, he hoped thus to cut off the communication of the +British with their own left, as well as with the Prussians, for whom he +trusted that Grouchy would be more than a match. +</p> +<p> +The reserves were in consequence all brought up to the centre. Seven +thousand cavalry and a massive artillery assembled upon the heights of La +Belle Alliance, and waited but the order to march. It was eleven o’clock, +and Napoleon mounted his horse and rode slowly along the line; again the +cry of “Vive l’Empereur!” resounded, and the bands of the various +regiments struck up their spirit-stirring strains as the gorgeous staff +moved along. On the British side all was tranquil; and still the different +divisions appeared to have taken up their ground, and the long ridge from +Ter-la-Haye to Merke-braine bristled with bayonets. Nothing could possibly +be more equal than the circumstances of the field. Each army possessed an +eminence whence their artillery might play. A broad and slightly +undulating valley lay between both. The ground permitted in all places +both cavalry and infantry movements, and except the crumbling walls of the +Château of Hougoumont, or the farm-house of La Haye Sainte, both of which +were occupied by the British, no advantage either by Nature or art +inclined to either side. It was a fair stand-up fight. It was the mighty +tournament, not only of the two greatest nations, but the two deadliest +rivals and bitterest enemies, led on by the two greatest military geniuses +that the world has ever seen; it might not be too much to say, or ever +will see. As for me, condemned to be an inactive spectator of the mighty +struggle, doomed to witness all the deep-laid schemes and well-devised +plans of attack which were destined for the overthrow of my country’s +arms, my state was one of torture and suspense. I sat upon the little +rising ground of Rossomme; before me in the valley, where yet the tall +corn waved in ripe luxuriance, stood the quiet and peaceful-looking old +Château of Hougoumont, and the blossoming branches of the orchard; the +birds were gayly singing their songs; the shrill whistle of the fatal +musketry was to be heard; and through my glass I could detect the uniform +of the soldiers who held the position, and my heart beat anxiously and +proudly as I recognized the Guards. In the orchard and the garden were +stationed some riflemen,—at least their dress and the scattered +order they assumed bespoke them such. While I looked, the tirailleurs of +Jerome’s Division advanced from the front of the line, and descending the +hill in a sling trot, broke into scattered parties, keeping up as they +went a desultory and irregular fire. The English skirmishers, less expert +in this peculiar service, soon fell back, and the head of Reille’s Brigade +began their march towards the château. The English artillery is unmasked +and opens its fire. Kellermann advances at a gallop his twelve pieces of +artillery; the château is concealed from view by the dense smoke, and as +the attack thickens, fresh troops pour forward, the artillery thundering +on either side; the entire lines of both armies stand motionless +spectators of the terrific combat, while every eye is turned towards that +devoted spot from whose dense mass of cloud and smoke the bright glare of +artillery is flashing, as the crashing masonry, the burning rafters, and +the loud yell of battle add to the frightful interest of the scene. For +above an hour the tremendous attack continues without cessation; the +artillery stationed upon the height has now found its range, and every +ringing shot tells upon the tottering walls; some wounded soldiers return +faint and bleeding from the conflict, but there are few who escape. A +crashing volley of fire-arms is now heard from the side where the orchard +stands; a second, and a third succeed, one after the other as rapid as +lightning itself. A silence follows, when, after a few moments, a +deafening cheer bursts forth, and an aide-de-camp gallops up to say that +the orchard has been carried at the point of the bayonet, the Nassau +sharp-shooters who held it having, after a desperate resistance, retired +before the irresistible onset of the French infantry. “A moi! maintenant!” +said General Foy, as he drew his sabre and rode down to the head of his +splendid division, which, anxious for the word to advance, was standing in +the valley. “En avant! mes braves!” cried he, while, pointing to the +château with his sword, he dashed boldly forward. Scarcely had he advanced +a hundred yards, when a cannon-shot, “ricocheting” as it went, struck his +horse in the counter and rolled him dead on the plain. Disengaging himself +from the lifeless animal, at once he sprang to his feet, and hurried +forward. The column was soon hid from my view, and I was left to mourn +over the seemingly inevitable fate that impended over my gallant +countrymen. +</p> +<p> +In the intense interest which chained me to this part of the field, I had +not noticed till this moment that the Emperor and his staff were standing +scarcely thirty yards from where I was. Napoleon, seated upon a gray, +almost white, Arabian, had suffered the reins to fall loosely on the neck +as he held with both hands his telescope to his eye; his dress, the usual +green coat with white facings, the uniform of the <i>chasseurs à cheval</i>, +was distinguished merely by the cross of the legion; his high boots were +splashed and mud-stained from riding through the deep and clayey soil; his +compact and clean-bred charger looked also slightly blown and heated, but +he himself, and I watched his features well, looked calm, composed, and +tranquil. How anxiously did I scrutinize that face; with what a throbbing +heart did I canvass every gesture, hoping to find some passing trait of +doubt, of difficulty, or of hesitation; but none was there. Unlike one who +looked upon the harrowing spectacle of the battle-field, whose all was +depending on the game before him; gambling with one throw his last his +only stake, and that the empire of the world. Yet, could I picture to +myself one who felt at peace within himself,—naught of reproach, +naught of regret to move or stir his spirit, whose tranquil barque had +glided over the calm sea of life, unruffled by the breath of passion,—I +should have fancied such was he. +</p> +<p> +Beside him sat one whose flashing eye and changing features looked in +every way his opposite; watching with intense anxiety the scene of the +deadly struggle round the château, every look, every gesture told the +changing fortune of the moment; his broad and brawny chest glittered with +orders and decorations, but his heavy brow and lowering look, flushed +almost black with excitement, could not easily be forgotten. It was Soult, +who, in his quality of major-general, accompanied the Emperor throughout +the day. +</p> +<p> +“They have lost it again, Sire,” said the marshal, passionately; “and see, +they are forming beneath the cross-fire of the artillery; the head of the +column keeps not its formation two minutes together; why does he not move +up?” +</p> +<p> +“Domont, you know the British; what troops are those in the orchard? They +use the bayonet well.” +</p> +<p> +The officer addressed pointed his glass for a moment to the spot. Then, +turning to the Emperor, replied, as he touched his hat, “They are the +Guards, Sire.” +</p> +<p> +During this time Napoleon spoke not a word; his eye ever bent upon the +battle, he seemed to pay little if any attention to the conversation about +him. As he looked, an aide-de-camp, breathless and heated, galloped up. +</p> +<p> +“The columns of attack are formed, Sire; everything is ready, and the +marshal only waits the order.” +</p> +<p> +Napoleon turned upon his saddle, and directing his glass towards Ney’s +Division, looked fixedly for some moments at them. His eye moved from +front to rear slowly, and at last, carrying his telescope along the line, +he fixed it steadily upon the far left. Here, towards St. Lambert, a +slight cloud seemed to rest on the horizon, as the Emperor continued to +gaze steadfastly at it. Every glass of the staff was speedily turned in +that direction. +</p> +<p> +“It is nothing but a cloud; some exhalation from the low grounds in that +quarter,” whispered one. +</p> +<p> +“To me,” said another, “they look like trees, part of the Bois de Wavre.” +</p> +<p> +“They are men,” said the Emperor, speaking for the first time. “Est-ce +Grouchy? Est-ce Blucher?” +</p> +<p> +Soult inclines to believe it to be the former, and proceeds to give his +reasons; but the Emperor, without listening, turns towards Domont, and +orders him, with his division of light cavalry and Subervic’s Brigade, to +proceed thither at once. If it be Grouchy, to establish a junction with +him; to resist, should it prove to be the advanced guard of Marshal +Blucher. Scarcely is the order given when a column of cavalry, wheeling +“fours about,” unravels itself from the immense mass, and seems to +serpentine like an enormous snake between the squares of the mighty army. +The pace increases at every moment, and at length we see them emerge from +the extreme right and draw up, as if on parade, above half a mile from the +wood. This movement, by its precision and beauty, attracted our entire +attention, not only from the attack upon Hougoumont, but also from an +incident which had taken place close beside us. This was the appearance of +a Prussian hussar who had been taken prisoner between Wavre and +Planchenoit; he was the bearer of a letter from Bulow to Wellington, +announcing his arrival at St. Lambert, and asking for orders. +</p> +<p> +This at once explains the appearance on the right; but the prisoner also +adds, that the three Prussian corps were at Wavre, having pushed their +patrols two leagues from that town without ever encountering any portion +of the force under the command of Grouchy. For a moment not a word is +spoken. A silence like a panic pervades the staff; the Emperor himself is +the first to break it. +</p> +<p> +“This morning,” said he, turning towards Soult, “the chances were ninety +to one in our favor; Bulow’s arrival has already lost us thirty of the +number; but the odds are still sufficient, if Grouchy but repair the <i>horrible +fault</i> he has committed.” +</p> +<p> +He paused for a moment, and as he lifted up his own hand, and turned a +look of indignant passion towards the staff, added, in a voice the sarcasm +of whose tone there is no forgetting:— +</p> +<p> +“Il s’amuse à Gembloux! Still,” said he, speaking rapidly and with more +energy than I had hitherto noticed, “Bulow may be entirely cut off. Let an +officer approach. Take this letter, sir,” giving as he spoke, Bulow’s +letter to Lord Wellington,—“give this letter to Marshal Grouchy; +tell him that at this moment he should be before Wavre; tell him that +already, had he obeyed his orders—but no, tell him to march at once, +to press forward his cavalry, to come up in two hours, in three at +farthest. You have but five leagues to ride; see, sir, that you reach him +within an hour.” +</p> +<p> +As the officer hurries away at the top of his speed, an aide-de-camp from +General Domont confirms the news; they are the Prussians whom he has +before him. As yet, however, they are debouching from the wood, and have +attempted no forward movement. +</p> +<p> +“What’s Bulow’s force, Marshal?” +</p> +<p> +“Thirty thousand, Sire.” +</p> +<p> +“Let Lobau take ten thousand, with the Cuirassiers of the Young Guard, and +hold the Prussians in check.” +</p> +<p> +“Maintenant, pour les autres,” this he said with a smile, as he turned his +eyes once more towards the field of battle. The aide-de-camp of Marshal +Ney, who, bare-headed and expectant, sat waiting for orders, presented +himself to view. The Emperor turned towards him as he said, with a clear +and firm voice:— +</p> +<p> +“Tell the marshal to open the fire of his batteries; to carry La Haye +Sainte with the bayonet, and leaving an infantry division for its +protection, to march against La Papelotte and La Haye. They must be +carried by the bayonet.” +</p> +<p> +The aide-de-camp was gone; Napoleon’s eye followed him as he crossed the +open plain and was lost in the dense ranks of the dark columns. Scarcely +five minutes elapsed when eighty guns thundered out together, and as the +earth shook and trembled beneath, the mighty movement of the day began its +execution. From Hougoumont, where the slaughter and the carnage continued +unslackened and unstayed, every eye was now turned towards the right. I +knew not what troops occupied La Haye Sainte, or whether they were British +who crowned the heights above it; but in my heart how fervently did I pray +that they might be so. Oh, in that moment of suspense and agonizing doubt, +what would I not have given to know that Picton himself and the fighting +Fifth were there; that behind that ridge the Greys, the Royals, and the +Enniskilleners sat motionless, but burning to advance; and the breath of +battle waved among the tartans of the Highlanders, and blew upon the +flashing features of my own island countrymen. Had I known this, I could +have marked the onset with a less failing spirit. +</p> +<p> +“There goes Marcognet’s Division,” said my companion, springing to his +legs; “they’re moving to the right of the road. I should like to see the +troops that will stand before them.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he mounted his horse, and desiring me to accompany him, rode to +the height beside La Belle Alliance. The battle was now raging from the +Château de Hougoumont to St. Lambert, where the Prussian tirailleurs, as +they issued from the wood, were skirmishing with the advanced posts of +Lobau’s Brigade. The attack upon the centre, however, engrossed all my +attention, and I watched the dark columns as they descended into the +plain, while the incessant roll of the artillery played about them. To the +right of Ney’s attack, D’Erlon advanced with three divisions, and the +artillery of the Guard. Towards this part of the field my companion moved. +General le Vasseur desired to know if the division on the Brussels road +were English or Hanoverian troops, and I was sent for to answer the +question. We passed from square to square until at length we found +ourselves upon the flank of D’Erlon’s Division. Le Vasseur, who at the +head of his cuirassiers waited but the order to charge, waved impatiently +with his sword for us to approach. We were now to the right of the high +road, and about four hundred yards from the crest of the hill where, +protected by a slight hedge, Picton, with Kempt’s Brigade, waited the +attack of the enemy. +</p> +<p> +Just at this moment an incident took place which, while in itself one of +the most brilliant achievements of the day, changed in a signal manner my +own fortunes. The head of D’Erlon’s column pressed with fixed bayonets up +the gentle slope. Already the Belgian infantry give way before them. The +brave Brunswickers, overwhelmed by the heavy cavalry of France, at first +begin to waver, then are broken; and at last retreat in disorder up the +road, a whirlwind of pursuing squadrons thundering behind them. “En avant! +en avant! la victoire est ènous,” is shouted madly through the impatient +ranks; and the artillery is called up to play upon the British squares; +upon which, fixed and immovable, the cuirassiers have charged without +success. Like a thunderbolt, the flying artillery dashes to the front; but +scarcely has it reached the bottom of the ascent, when, from the deep +ground, the guns become embedded in the soil, the wheels refuse to move. +In vain the artillery drivers whip and spur their laboring cattle. +Impatiently the leading files of the column prick with their bayonets the +struggling horses. The hesitation is fatal; for Wellington, who, with +eager glance, watches from an eminence beside the high road the advancing +column, sees the accident. An order is given; and with one fell swoop, the +heavy cavalry brigade pour down. Picton’s Division deploys into line; the +bayonets glance above the ridge; and with a shout that tells above the +battle, on they come, the fighting Fifth. One volley is exchanged; but the +bayonet is now brought to the charge, and the French division retreat in +close column, pursued by their gallant enemy. Scarcely have the leading +divisions fallen back, and the rear pressed down upon, or thrown into +disorder, when the cavalry trumpets sound a charge; the bright helmets of +the Enniskilleners come flashing in the sunbeams, and the Scotch Greys, +like a white-crested wave, are rolling upon the foe. Marcognet’s Division +is surrounded; the dragoons ride them down on every side; the guns are +captured; the drivers cut down; and two thousand prisoners are carried +off. A sudden panic seems to seize upon the French, as cavalry, infantry, +and artillery are hurried back on each other. Vainly the French attempt to +rally; the untiring enemy press madly on; the household brigade, led on by +Lord Uxbridge, came thundering down the road, riding down with their +gigantic force the mailed cuirassiers of France. Borne along with the +retreating torrents, I was carried on amidst the densely commingled mass. +The British cavalry, which, like the lightnings that sever the +thunder-cloud, pierces through in every direction, plunged madly upon us. +The roar of battle grew louder, as hand to hand they fought. Milhaud’s +Heavy Dragoons, with the 4th Lancers, came up at a gallop. Picton presses +forward, waving his plumed hat above his head; his proud eye flashes with +the fire of victory. That moment is his last. Struck in the forehead by a +musket-ball, he falls dead from the saddle; and the wild yell of the Irish +regiments, as they ring his death-cry, are the last sounds which he hears. +Meanwhile the Life Guards are among us; prisoners of rank are captured on +every side; and I, seizing the moment, throw myself among the ranks of my +countrymen, and am borne to the rear with the retiring squadrons. +</p> +<p> +As we reached the crest of the hill above the road, a loud cheer in the +valley beneath us burst forth, and from the midst of the dense smoke a +bright and pointed flame shot up towards the sky. It was the farm-house La +Haye Sainte, which the French had succeeded in setting fire to with hot +shot. For some time past the ammunition of the corps that held it had +failed, and a dropping irregular musketry was the only reply to the +incessant rattle of the enemy. As the smoke cleared away we discovered +that the French had carried the position; and as no quarter was given in +that deadly hand-to-hand conflict, not one returned to our ranks to toll +the tale of their defeat. +</p> +<p> +“This is the officer that I spoke of,” said an aide-decamp, as he rode up +to where I was standing bare-headed and without a sword. “He has just made +his escape from the French lines, and will be able to give your lordship +some information.” +</p> +<p> +The handsome features and gorgeous costume of Lord Uxbridge were known to +me; but I was not aware, till afterward, that a soldier-like, +resolute-looking officer beside him was General Graham. It was the latter +who first addressed me. +</p> +<p> +“Are you aware, sir,” said he, “if Grouchy’s force have arrived?” +</p> +<p> +“They have not; on the contrary, shortly before I escaped, an aide-de-camp +was despatched to Gembloux, to hasten his coming. And the troops, for they +must be troops, were debouching from the wood yonder. They seem to form a +junction with the corps to the right; they are the Prussians. They arrived +there before noon from St. Lambert, and are part of Bulow’s Corps. Count +Lobau and his division of ten thousand men were despatched, about an hour +since, to hold them in check.” +</p> +<p> +“This is great news,” said Lord Uxbridge. “Fitzroy must know it at once.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he dashed spurs into his horse, and soon disappeared amidst the +crowd on the hill-top. +</p> +<p> +“You had better see the duke, sir,” said Graham. “Your information is too +important to be delayed. Captain Calvert, let this officer have a horse; +his own is too tired to go much farther.” +</p> +<p> +“And a cap, I beg of you,” added I in an undertone, “for I have already +found a sabre.” +</p> +<p> +By a slightly circuitous route we reached the road, upon which a mass of +dismounted artillery-carts, baggage-wagons, and tumbrils were heaped +together as a barricade against the attack of the French dragoons, who +more than once had penetrated to the very crest of our position. Close to +this and on a little rising ground, from which a view of the entire field +extended, from Hougoumont to the far left, the Duke of Wellington stood +surrounded by his staff. His eye was bent upon the valley before him, +where the advancing columns of Ney’s attack still pressed onward; while +the fire of sixty great guns poured death and carnage into his lines. The +Second Belgian Division, routed and broken, had fallen back upon the 27th +Regiment, who had merely time to throw themselves into square, when +Milhaud’s cuirassiers, armed with their terrible long, straight swords, +came sweeping down upon them. A line of impassable bayonets, a living <i>chevaux-de-frise</i> +of the best blood of Britain, stood firm and motionless before the shock. +The French <i>mitraille</i> played mercilessly on the ranks; but the +chasms were filled up like magic, and in vain the bold horsemen of Gaul +galloped round the bristling files. At length the word, “Fire!” was heard +within the square, and as the bullets at pistol-range rattled upon them, +the cuirass afforded them no defence against the deadly volley. Men and +horses rolled indiscriminately upon the earth. Then would come a charge of +our clashing squadrons, who, riding recklessly upon the foe, were in their +turn to be repulsed by numbers, and fresh attacks poured down upon our +unshaken infantry. +</p> +<p> +“That column yonder is wavering. Why does he not bring up his supporting +squadrons?” inquired the duke, pointing to a Belgian regiment of light +dragoons, who were formed in the same brigade with the 7th Hussars. +</p> +<p> +“He refuses to oppose his light cavalry to cuirassiers, my lord,” said an +aide-de-camp, who had just returned from the division in question. +</p> +<p> +“Tell him to march his men off the ground,” said the duke in a quiet and +impassive tone. +</p> +<p> +In less than ten minutes the “Belgian regiment” was seen to defile from +the mass and take the road to Brussels, to increase the panic of that city +by circulating and strengthening the report that the English were beaten, +and Napoleon in full march upon the capital. +</p> +<p> +“What’s Ney’s force; can you guess, sir?” said the Duke of Wellington, +turning to me. +</p> +<p> +“About twelve thousand men, my lord.” +</p> +<p> +“Are the Guard among them?” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir; the Guard are in reserve above La Belle Alliance.” +</p> +<p> +“In what part of the field is Bonaparte?” +</p> +<p> +“Nearly opposite to where we stand.” +</p> +<p> +“I told you, gentlemen, Hougoumont never was the great attack. The battle +must be decided here,” pointing as he spoke to the plain beneath us, where +Ney still poured on his devoted columns, where yet the French cavalry rode +down upon our firm squares. +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, an aide-de-camp rode up from the valley. +</p> +<p> +“The Ninety-second requires support, my lord. They cannot maintain their +position half an hour longer with out it.” +</p> +<p> +“Have they given way, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“No—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, they must stand where they are. I hear cannon towards the +left; yonder, near Frischermont.” +</p> +<p> +At this moment the light cavalry swept past the base of the hill on which +we stood, hotly followed by the French heavy cuirassier brigade. Three of +our guns were taken; and the cheering of the French infantry, as they +advanced to the charge, presaged their hope of victory. +</p> +<p> +“Do it, then,” said the duke, in reply to some whispered question of Lord +Uxbridge; and shortly after the heavy trot of advancing squadrons was +heard behind. +</p> +<p> +They were the Life Guards and the Blues, who, with the 1st Dragoon Guards +and the Enniskilleners, were formed into close column. +</p> +<p> +“I know the ground, my lord,” said I to Lord Uxbridge. +</p> +<p> +“Come along, sir, come along,” said he, as he threw his hussar jacket +loosely behind him to give freedom to his sword arm. “Forward, my men, +forward; but steady, hold your horses in hand, threes about, and together, +charge! +</p> +<p> +“Charge!” he shouted; while as the word flew from squadron to squadron, +each horseman bent upon his saddle, and that mighty mass, as though +instinct with but one spirit, dashed like a thunderbolt upon the column +beneath them. The French, blown and exhausted, inferior besides in weight, +both of man and horse, offered but a short resistance. As the tall corn +bends beneath the sweeping hurricane, wave succeeding wave, so did the +steel-clad squadrons of France fall before the nervous arm of Britain’s +cavalry. Onward they went, carrying death and ruin before them, and never +stayed their course until the guns were recaptured, and the cuirassiers, +repulsed, disordered, and broken, had retired beneath the protection of +their artillery. +</p> +<p> +There was, as a brilliant and eloquent writer on the subject mentions, a +terrible sameness in the whole of this battle. Incessant charges of +cavalry upon the squares of our infantry, whose sole manoeuvre consisted +in either deploying into line to resist the attack of the infantry, or +falling back into square when the cavalry advanced; performing those two +evolutions under the devastating fire of artillery, before the unflinching +heroism of that veteran infantry whose glories have been reaped upon the +blood-stained fields of Austerlitz, Marengo, and Wagram, or opposing an +unbroken front to the whirlwind swoop of infuriated cavalry. Such were the +enduring and devoted services demanded from the English troops; and such +they failed not to render. Once or twice had temper nearly failed them, +and the cry ran through the ranks, “Are we never to move forward? Only let +us at them!” But the word was not yet spoken which was to undam the +pent-up torrent, and bear down with unrelenting vengeance upon the now +exulting columns of the enemy. +</p> +<p> +It was six o’clock; the battle had continued with unchanged fortune for +three hours. The French, masters of La Haye Sainte, could never advance +farther into our position. They had gained the orchard of Hougoumont; but +the château was still held by the British Guards, although its blazing +roof and crumbling walls made its occupation rather the desperate stand of +unflinching valor than the maintenance of an important position. The smoke +which hung upon the field rolled in slow and heavy masses back upon the +French lines, and gradually discovered to our view the entire of the army. +We quickly perceived that a change was taking place in their position. The +troops, which on their left stretched far beyond Hougoumont, were now +moved nearer to the centre. The attack upon the château seemed less +vigorously supported, while the oblique direction of their right wing, +which, pivoting upon Planchenoit, opposed a face to the Prussians, all +denoted a change in their order of battle. It was now the hour when +Napoleon, at last convinced that nothing but the carnage he could no +longer support could destroy the unyielding ranks of British infantry; +that although Hougoumont had been partially, La Haye Sainte completely +won; that upon the right of the road the farm-houses Papolotte and La Haye +were nearly surrounded by his troops, which with any other army must prove +the forerunner of defeat,—yet still the victory was beyond his +grasp. The bold stratagems, whose success the experience of a life had +proved, were here to be found powerless. The decisive manoeuvre of +carrying one important point of the enemy’s lines, of turning him upon the +flank, or piercing him through the centre, were here found impracticable. +He might launch his avalanche of grape-shot, he might pour down his +crashing columns of cavalry, he might send forth the iron storm of his +brave infantry; but though death in every shape heralded their approach, +still were others found to fill the fallen ranks, and feed with their +hearts’ blood the unslaked thirst for slaughter. Well might the gallant +leader of this gallant host, as he watched the reckless onslaught of the +untiring enemy, and looked upon the unflinching few who, bearing the proud +badge of Britain, alone sustained the fight, well might he exclaim, “Night +or Blucher!” +</p> +<p> +It was now seven o’clock, when a dark mass was seen to form upon the +heights above the French centre, and divide into three gigantic columns, +of which the right occupied the Brussels road. These were the reserves, +consisting of the Old and Young Guards, and amounting to twelve thousand,—the +<i>élite</i> of the French army,—reserved by the Emperor for a great +<i>coup-de-main</i>. These veterans of a hundred battles had been +stationed from the beginning of the day, inactive spectators of the fight; +their hour was now come, and with a shout of “Vive l’Empereur!” which rose +triumphantly over the din and crash of battle, they began their march. +Meanwhile aides-de-camp galloped along the lines announcing the arrival of +Grouchy, to reanimate the drooping spirits of the men; for at last a doubt +of victory was breaking upon the minds of those who never before, in the +most adverse hour of fortune, deemed <i>his</i> star could be set that led +them on to glory. +</p> +<p> +“They are coming; the attack will be made on the centre, my lord,” said +Lord Fitzroy Somerset, as he directed his glass upon the column. Scarcely +had he spoken when the telescope fell from his hand, as his arm, shattered +by a French bullet, fell motionless to his side. +</p> +<p> +“I see it,” was the cool reply of the duke, as he ordered the Guards to +deploy into line and lie down behind the ridge, which now the French +artillery had found the range of, and were laboring at their guns. In +front of them the Fifty-second, Seventy-first, and Ninety-fifth were +formed; the artillery stationed above and partly upon the road, loaded +with grape, and waited but the word to open. +</p> +<p> +It was an awful, a dreadful moment. The Prussian cannon thundered on our +left; but so desperate was the French resistance, they made but little +progress. The dark columns of the Guard had now commenced the ascent, and +the artillery ceased their fire as the bayonets of the grenadiers showed +themselves upon the slope. Then began that tremendous cheer from right to +left of our line, which those who heard never can forget. It was the +impatient, long-restrained burst of unslaked vengeance. With the instinct +which valor teaches, they knew the hour of trial was come; and that wild +cry flew from rank to rank, echoing from the blood-stained walls of +Hougoumont to the far-off valley of La Papelotte. “They come! they come!” +was the cry; and the shout of “Vive l’Empereur!” mingled with the +out-burst of the British line. +</p> +<p> +Under an overwhelming shower of grape, to which succeeded a charge of +cavalry of the Imperial Guard, the head of Ney’s column fired its volley +and advanced with the bayonet. The British artillery now opened at half +range, and although the plunging fire scathed and devasted the dark ranks +of the Guard, on they came, Ney himself on foot at their head. Twice the +leading division of that gallant column turned completely round, as the +withering fire wasted and consumed them; but they were resolved to win. +</p> +<p> +Already they gained the crest of the hill, and the first line of the +British were falling back before them. The artillery closes up; the +flanking fire from the guns upon the road opens upon them; the head of +their column breaks like a shell; the duke seizes the moment, and advances +on foot towards the ridge. +</p> +<p> +“Up, Guards, and at them!” he cried. +</p> +<p> +The hour of triumph and vengeance had arrived. In a moment the Guards were +on their feet; one volley was poured in; the bayonets were brought to the +charge; they closed upon the enemy; then was seen the most dreadful +struggle that the history of all war can present. Furious with +long-restrained passion, the Guards rushed upon the leading divisions; the +Seventy-first and Ninety-fifth and Twenty-sixth overlapped them on the +flanks. Their generals fell thickly on every side; Michel, Jamier, and +Mallet are killed; Friant lies wounded upon the ground; Ney, his dress +pierced and ragged with balls, shouts still to advance; but the leading +files waver; they fall back; the supporting divisions thicken; confusion, +panic succeeds. The British press down; the cavalry come galloping up to +their assistance; and at last, pell-mell, overwhelmed and beaten, the +French fell back upon the Old Guard. This was the decisive moment of the +day; the duke closed his glass, as he said,— +</p> +<p> +“The field is won. Order the whole line to advance.” +</p> +<p> +On they came, four deep, and poured like a torrent from the height. +</p> +<p> +“Let the Life Guards charge them,” said the duke; but every aide-de-camp +on his staff was wounded, and I myself brought the order to Lord Uxbridge. +</p> +<p> +Lord Uxbridge had already anticipated his orders, and bore down with four +regiments of heavy cavalry upon the French centre. The Prussian artillery +thundered upon their flank and at their rear. The British bayonet was in +their front; while a panic fear spread through their ranks, and the cry of +“Sauve qui peut!” resounded on all sides. In vain Ney, the bravest of the +brave, in vain Soult, Bertrand, Gourgaud, and Labedoyère, burst from the +broken, disorganized mass, and called on them to stand fast. A battalion +of the Old Guard, with Cambronne at their head, alone obeyed the summons; +forming into square, they stood between the pursuers and their prey, +offering themselves a sacrifice to the tarnished honor of their arms. To +the order to surrender they answered with a cry of defiance; and as our +cavalry, flushed and elated with victory, rode round their bristling +ranks, no quailing look, no craven spirit was there. The Emperor himself +endeavored to repair the disaster; he rode with lightning speed hither and +thither, commanding, ordering, nay, imploring, too; but already the night +was falling, the confusion became each moment more inextricable, and the +effort was a fruitless one. A regiment of the Guards, and two batteries +were in reserve behind Planchenoit. He threw them rapidly into position; +but the overwhelming impulse of flight drove the mass upon them, and they +were carried away upon the torrent of the beaten army. No sooner did the +Emperor see this his last hope desert him, than he dismounted from his +horse, and drawing his sword, threw himself into a square, which the first +regiment of Chasseurs of the Old Guard had formed with a remnant of the +battalion. Jerome followed him, as he called out,— +</p> +<p> +“You are right, brother; here should perish all who bear the name of +Bonaparte.” +</p> +<p> +The same moment the Prussian light artillery rend the ranks asunder, and +the cavalry charge down upon the scattered fragments. A few of his staff, +who never left him, place the Emperor upon a horse and fly through the +death-dealing artillery and musketry. A squadron of the Life Guards, to +which I had attached myself, came up at the moment, and as Blucher’s +hussars rode madly here and there, where so lately the crowd of staff +officers had denoted the presence of Napoleon, expressed their rage and +disappointment in curses and cries of vengeance. +</p> +<p> +Cambronne’s battalion stood yet unbroken, and seemed to defy every attack +that was brought against them. To the second summons to surrender they +replied as indignantly as at first; and Vivian’s Brigade was ordered to +charge them. A cloud of British horse bore down on every face of the +devoted square; but firm as in their hour of victory, the heroes of +Marengo never quailed; and twice the bravest blood of Britian recoiled, +baffled and dismayed. There was a pause for some minutes, and even then, +as we surveyed our broken and blood-stained squadrons, a cry of admiration +burst from our ranks at the gallant bearing of that glorious infantry. +Suddenly the tramp of approaching cavalry was heard; I turned my head and +saw two squadrons of the Second Life Guards. The officer who led them on +was bare-headed; his long dark hair streaming wildly behind him, and upon +his pale features, to which not even the headlong enthusiasm of battle had +lent one touch of color. He rode straight to where I was standing, his +dark eyes fixed upon me with a look so fierce, so penetrating, that I +could not look away. The features, save in this respect, had almost a look +of idiocy. It was Hammersley. +</p> +<p> +“Ha!” he cried at last, “I have sought you out the entire day, but in +vain. It is not yet too late. Give me your hand, boy. You once called on +me to follow <i>you</i>, and I did not refuse; I trust you’ll do the like +by <i>me</i>. Is it not so?” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0471.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Death of Hammersley. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +A terrible perception of his meaning shot through my mind as I clasped his +clay-cold hand in mine, and for a moment I did not speak. +</p> +<p> +“I hoped for better than this,” said he, bitterly, and as a glance of +withering scorn flashed from his eye. “I did trust that he who was +preferred before me was at least not a coward.” +</p> +<p> +As the word fell from his lips I nearly leaped from my saddle, and +mechanically raised my sabre to cleave him on the spot. +</p> +<p> +“Then follow me!” shouted he, pointing with his sword to the glistening +ranks before us. +</p> +<p> +“Come on!” said I, with a voice hoarse with passion, while burying my +spurs in my horse’s flanks, I sprang on a full length before him, and bore +down upon the enemy. A loud shout, a deafening volley, the agonizing cry +of the wounded and the dying, were all I heard, as my horse, rearing madly +upward, plunged twice into the air, and then fell dead upon the earth, +crushing me beneath his cumbrous weight, lifeless and insensible. +</p> +<p> +The day was breaking; the cold, gray light of morning was struggling +through the misty darkness, when I once more recovered my consciousness. +There are moments in life when memory can so suddenly conjure up the whole +past before us, that there is scarcely time for a doubt ere the disputed +reality is palpable to our senses. Such was this to me. One hurried glance +upon the wide, bleak plain before me, and every circumstance of the +battle-field was present to my recollection. The dismounted guns, the +broken wagons, the heaps of dead or dying, the straggling parties who on +foot or horseback traversed the field, and the dark litters which carried +the wounded, all betokened the sad evidences of the preceding day’s +battle. +</p> +<p> +Close around me where I lay the ground was marked with the bodies of our +cavalry, intermixed with the soldiers of the Old Guard. The broad brow and +stalwart chest of the Saxon lay bleaching beside the bronzed and bearded +warrior of Gaul, while the torn-up ground attested the desperation of that +struggle which closed the day. +</p> +<p> +As my eye ranged over this harrowing spectacle, a dreadful anxiety shot +through me as I asked myself whose had been the victory. A certain +confused impression of flight and of pursuit remained in my mind; but at +the moment, the circumstances of my own position in the early part of the +day increased the difficulty of reflection, and left me in a state of +intense and agonizing uncertainty. Although not wounded, I had been so +crushed by my fall that it was not without pain I got upon my legs. I soon +perceived that the spot around me had not yet been visited by those +vultures of the battle-field who strip alike the dead and dying. The +distance of the place from where the great conflict of the battle had +occurred was probably the reason; and now, as the straggling sunbeams fell +upon the earth, I could trace the helmet of the Enniskilleners, or the +tall bearskin of the Scotch Greys, lying in thick confusion where the +steel cuirass and long sword of the French dragoons showed the fight had +been hottest. As I turned my eyes hither and thither I could see no living +thing near me. In every attitude of struggling agony they lay around; some +buried beneath their horses, some bathed in blood, some, with clinched +hands and darting eyeballs, seemed struggling even in death; but all was +still,—not a word, not a sigh, not a groan was there. I was turning +to leave the spot, and uncertain which way to direct my steps, looked once +more around, when my glance rested upon the pale and marble features of +one who, even in that moment of doubt and difficulty, there was no +mistaking. His coat, torn widely open, was grasped in either hand, while +his breast was shattered with balls and bathed in gore. Gashed and +mutilated as he lay, still the features wore no trace of suffering; cold, +pale, motionless, but with the tranquil look of sleep, his eyelids were +closed, and his half-parted lips seemed still to quiver in life. I knelt +down beside him; I took his hand in mine; I bent over and whispered his +name; I placed my hand upon his heart, where even still the life blood was +warm,—but he was dead. Poor Hammersley! His was a gallant soul; and +as I looked upon his blood-stained corpse, my tears fell fast and hot upon +his brow to think how far I had myself been the cause of a life blighted +in its hope, and a death like his. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LIV. +</h2> +<p> +BRUSSELS. +</p> +<p> +Once more I would entreat my reader’s indulgence for the prolixity of a +narrative which has grown beneath my hands to a length I had never +intended. This shall, however, be the last time for either the offence or +the apology. My story is now soon concluded. +</p> +<p> +After wandering about for some time, uncertain which way to take, I at +length reached the Charleroi road, now blocked by carriages and wagons +conveying the wounded towards Brussels. Here I learned, for the first +time, that we had gained the battle, and heard of the total annihilation +of the French army, and the downfall of the Emperor. On arriving at the +farm-house of Mont St. Jean, I found a number of officers, whose wounds +prevented their accompanying the army in its forward movement. One of +them, with whom I was slightly acquainted, informed me that General +Dashwood had spent the greater part of the night upon the field in search +of me and that my servant Mike was in a state of distraction at my absence +that bordered on insanity. While he was speaking, a burst of laughter and +the tones of a well-remembered voice behind attracted my attention. +</p> +<p> +“Made a very good thing of it, upon my life. A dressing-case,—not +gold, you know, but silver-gilt,—a dozen knives with blood-stone +handles, and a little coffee-pot, with the imperial arms,—not to +speak of three hundred Naps in a green silk purse—Lord! it reminds +me of the Peninsula. Do you know those Prussians are mere barbarians, +haven’t a notion of civilized war. Bless your heart, my fellows in the +Legion would have ransacked the whole coach, from the boot to the +sword-case, in half the time they took to cut down the coachman.” +</p> +<p> +“The major, as I live!” said I. “How goes it, Major?” +</p> +<p> +“Eh, Charley! when did you turn up? Delighted see you. They told me you +were badly wounded or killed or something of that kind. But I should have +paid the little debt to your executors all the same.” +</p> +<p> +“All the same, no doubt, Major; but where, in Heaven’s name, did you fall +upon that mine of pillage you have just been talking of?” +</p> +<p> +“In the Emperor’s carriage, to be sure, boy. While the duke was watching +all day the advance of Ney’s column and keeping an anxious look-out for +the Prussians, I sat in a window in this old farm-house, and never took my +eye off the garden at Planchenoit. I saw the imperial carriage there in +the morning; it was there also at noon; and they never put the horses to +it till past seven in the evening. The roads were very heavy, and the +crowd was great. I judged the pace couldn’t be a fast one; and with four +of the Enniskilleners I charged it like a man. The Prussians, however, had +the start of us; and if they hadn’t thought, from my seat on horseback and +my general appearance, that I was Lord Uxbridge, I should have got but a +younger son’s portion. However, I got in first, filled my pockets with a +few little <i>souvenirs</i> of the Emperor, and then laying my hands upon +what was readiest, got out in time to escape being shot; for two of +Blucher’s hussars, thinking I must be the Emperor, fired at me through the +window.” +</p> +<p> +“What an escape you had!” +</p> +<p> +“Hadn’t I though? Fortunate, too, my Enniskilleners saw the whole thing; +for I intend to make the circumstance the ground of an application for a +pension. Hark ye, Charley, don’t say anything about the coffee-pot and the +knives. The duke, you know, has strange notions of his own on these +matters. But isn’t that your fellow fighting his way yonder?” +</p> +<p> +“Tear and ages! don’t howld me—that’s himself,—devil a one +else!” +</p> +<p> +This exclamation came from Mickey Free, who, with his dress torn and +dishevelled, his eyes bloodshot and strained, was upsetting and elbowing +all before him, as he made his way towards me through the crowd. +</p> +<p> +“Take that fellow to the guard-house! Lay hold of him, Sergeant! Knock him +down! Who is the scoundrel?” +</p> +<p> +Such were the greetings he met with on every side. Regardless of +everything and everybody, he burst his way through the dense mass. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, murther! oh, Mary! oh, Moses! Is he safe here after all?” +</p> +<p> +The poor fellow could say no more, but burst into a torrent of tears. A +roar of laughter around him soon, however, turned the current of his +emotions; when, dashing the scalding drops from his eyelids, he glared +fiercely like a tiger on every side. +</p> +<p> +“Ye’re laughing at me, are ye,” cried he, “bekase I love the hand that fed +me, and the master that stood to me? But let us see now which of us two +has the stoutest heart,—you with your grin on you, or myself with +the salt tears on my face.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, he sprang upon them like a madman, striking right and left at +everything before him. Down they went beneath his blows, levelled with the +united strength of energy and passion, till at length, rushing upon him in +numbers, he was overpowered and thrown to the ground. It was with some +difficulty I accomplished his rescue; for his enemies felt by no means +assured how far his amicable propensities for the future could be relied +upon; and, indeed, Mike himself had a most constitutional antipathy to +binding himself by any pledge. With some persuasion, however, I reconciled +all parties; and having, by the kindness of a brother officer, provided +myself with a couple of troop horses, I mounted, and set out for Brussels, +followed by Mickey, who had effectually cured his auditory of any tendency +to laughter at his cost. +</p> +<p> +As I rode up to the Belle Vue, I saw Sir George Dashwood in the window. He +was speaking to the ambassador, Lord Clancarty, but the moment he caught +my eye, he hurried down to meet me. +</p> +<p> +“Charley, safe,—safe, my boy! Now am I really happy. The glorious +day had been one of sorrow to me for the rest of my life had anything +happened to you. Come up with me at once; I have more than one friend here +who longs to thank you.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he hurried me along; and before I could well remember where I +was, introduced me to a number of persons in the saloon. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, very happy to know you, sir,” said Lord Clancarty. “Perhaps we had +better walk this way. My friend Dashwood has explained to me the very +pressing reasons there are for this step; and I, for my part, see no +objection.” +</p> +<p> +“What, in Heaven’s name, can he mean?” thought I, as he stopped short, +expecting me to say something, while, in utter confusion, I smiled, +simpered, and muttered some common-places. +</p> +<p> +“Love and war, sir,” resumed the ambassador, “very admirable associates, +and you certainly have contrived to couple them most closely together. A +long attachment, I believe?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, a very long attachment,” stammered I, not knowing which of us +was about to become insane. +</p> +<p> +“A very charming person, indeed; I have seen the lady,” replied his +lordship, as he opened the door of a small room, and beckoned me to +follow. The table was covered with paper and materials for writing; but +before I had time to ask for any explanation of this unaccountable +mystery, he added, “Oh, I was forgetting; this must be witnessed. Wait one +moment.” +</p> +<p> +With these words he left the room, while I, amazed and thunderstruck, +vacillating between fear and hope, trembling lest the delusive glimmering +of happiness should give way at every moment, and yet totally unable to +explain by any possible supposition how fortune could so far have favored +me. +</p> +<p> +While yet I stood hesitating and uncertain, the door opened, and the +senhora entered. She looked a little pale though not less beautiful than +ever; and her features wore a slight trace of seriousness, which rather +heightened than took from the character of her loveliness. +</p> +<p> +“I heard you had come, Chevalier,” said she, “and so I ran down to shake +hands with you. We may not meet again for some time.” +</p> +<p> +“How so, Senhora? You are not going to leave us, I trust?” +</p> +<p> +“Then you have not seen Fred. Oh, I forgot; you know nothing of our +plans.” +</p> +<p> +“Here we are at last,” said the ambassador, as he came in followed by Sir +George, Power, and two other officers. “Ah, <i>ma belle</i>, how fortunate +to find you here! I assure you, it is a matter of no small difficulty to +get people together at such a time as this.” +</p> +<p> +“Charley, my dear friend,” cried Power, “I scarcely hoped to have had a +shake hands with you ere I left.” +</p> +<p> +“Do, Fred, tell me what all this means? I am in a perfect maze of doubt +and difficulty, and cannot comprehend a word I hear about me.” +</p> +<p> +“Faith, my boy, I have little time for explanation. The man who was at +Waterloo yesterday, is to be married to-morrow, and to sail for India in a +week, has quite enough upon his hands.” +</p> +<p> +“Colonel Power, you will please to put your signature here,” said Lord +Clancarty, addressing himself to me. +</p> +<p> +“If you will allow me,” said Fred, “I had rather represent myself.” +</p> +<p> +“Is not this the colonel, then? Why, confound it, I have been wishing him +joy the last quarter of an hour!” +</p> +<p> +A burst of laughter from the whole party, in which it was pretty evident I +took no part, followed this announcement. +</p> +<p> +“And so you are not Colonel Power? Nor going to be married, either?” +</p> +<p> +I stammered out something, while, overwhelmed with confusion, I stooped +down to sign the paper. Scarcely had I done so, when a renewed burst of +laughter broke from the party. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing but blunders, upon my soul,” said the ambassador, as he handed +the paper from one to another. +</p> +<p> +What was my confusion to discover that instead of Charles O’Malley, I had +written the name of Lucy Dashwood. I could bear no more. The laughing and +raillery of my friends came upon my wounded and irritated feelings like +the most poignant sarcasm. I seized my cap and rushed from the room. +Desirous of escaping from all that knew me, anxious to bury my agitated +and distracted thoughts in solitude and quiet, I opened the first door +before me, and seeing it an empty and unoccupied room, throw myself upon a +sofa, and buried my head within my hands. Oh, how often had the phantom of +happiness passed within my reach, but still glided from my grasp! How +often had I beheld the goal I aimed at, as it were before me, and the next +moment all the bleak reality of my evil fortune was lowering around me! +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Lucy, Lucy!” I exclaimed aloud, “but for you and a few words +carelessly spoken, I had never trod that path of ambition whose end has +been the wreck of all my happiness. But for you, I had never loved so +fondly; I had never filled my mind with one image which, excluding every +other thought, leaves no pleasure but in it alone. Yes, Lucy, but for you +I should have gone tranquilly down the stream of life with naught of grief +or care, save such as are inseparable from the passing chances of +mortality; loved, perhaps, and cared for by some one who would have deemed +it no disgrace to have linked her fortune to my own. But for you, and I +had never been—” +</p> +<p> +“A soldier, you would say,” whispered a soft voice, as a light hand gently +touched my shoulder. “I had come,” continued she, “to thank you for a gift +no gratitude can repay,—my father’s life; but truly, I did not think +to hear the words you have spoken; nor having heard them, can I feel their +justice. No, Mr. O’Malley, deeply grateful as I am to you for the service +you once rendered myself, bound as I am by every tie of thankfulness, by +the greater one to my father, yet do I feel that in the impulse I had +given to your life, if so be that to me you owe it, I have done more to +repay my debt to you, than by all the friendship, all the esteem I owe +you; if, indeed, by my means, you became a soldier, if my few and random +words raised within your breast that fire of ambition which has been your +beacon-light to honor and to glory, then am I indeed proud.” +</p> +<p> +“Alas, alas, Lucy!—Miss Dashwood, I would say,—forgive me, if +I know not the very words I utter. How has my career fulfilled the promise +that gave it birth? For you, and you only, to gain your affection, to win +your heart, I became a soldier; hardship, danger, even death itself were +courted by me, supported by the one thought that you had cared for or had +pitied me; and now, and now—” +</p> +<p> +“And now,” said she, while her eyes beamed upon me with a very flood of +tenderness, “is it nothing that in my woman’s heart I have glowed with +pride at triumphs I could read of, but dared not share in? Is it nothing +that you have lent to my hours of solitude and of musing the fervor of +that career, the maddening enthusiasm of that glorious path my sex denied +me? I have followed you in my thoughts across the burning plains of the +Peninsula, through the long hours of the march in the dreary nights, even +to the battle-field. I have thought of you; I have dreamed of you; I have +prayed for you.” +</p> +<p> +“Alas, Lucy, but not loved me!” +</p> +<p> +The very words, as I spoke them, sank with a despairing cadence upon my +heart. Her hand, which had fallen upon mine, trembled violently; I pressed +my lips upon it, but she moved it not. I dared to look up; her head was +turned away, but her heaving bosom betrayed her emotion. +</p> +<p> +“No, no, Lucy,” cried I, passionately, “I will not deceive myself; I ask +for more than you can give me. Farewell!” +</p> +<p> +Now, and for the last time, I pressed her hand once more to my lips; my +hot tears fell fast upon it. I turned to go, and threw one last look upon +her. Our eyes met; I cannot say what it was, but in a moment the whole +current of my thoughts was changed; her look was bent upon me beaming with +softness and affection, her hand gently pressed my own, and her lips +murmured my name. +</p> +<p> +The door burst open at this moment, and Sir George Dashwood appeared. Lucy +turned one fleeting look upon her father, and fell fainting into my arms. +</p> +<p> +“God bless you, my boy!” said the old general, as he hurriedly wiped a +tear from his eye; “I am now, indeed, a happy father.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0481.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="The Welcome Home. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LV. +</h2> +<p> +<a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CONCLUSION. +</h2> +<hr /> +<p> +The sun had set about half an hour. Already were the dusky shadows +blending with the faint twilight, as on a lovely July evening we entered +the little village of Portumna,—we, I say; for Lucy was beside me. +For the last few miles of the way I had spoken little; thoughts of the +many times I had travelled that same road, in how many moods, occupied my +mind; and although, as we flew rapidly along, some well-known face would +every now and then present itself, I had but time for the recognition ere +we were past. Arousing myself from my revery, I was pointing out to Lucy +certain well-known spots in the landscape, and directing her attention to +places with the names of which she had been for some time familiar, when +suddenly a loud shout rent the air, and the next moment the carriage was +surrounded by hundreds of country people, some of whom brandished blazing +pine torches; others carried rude banners in their hands,—but all +testified the most fervent joy as they bade us welcome. The horses were +speedily unharnessed, and their places occupied by a crowd of every age +and sex, who hurried us along through the straggling street of the +village, now a perfect blaze of bonfires. +</p> +<p> +Mounds of turf, bog-fir, and tar-barrels sent up their ruddy blaze, while +hundreds of wild, but happy faces, flitted around and through them,—now +dancing merrily in chorus; now plunging madly into the midst of the fire, +and scattering the red embers on every side. Pipers were there too, +mounted upon cars or turf-kishes; even the very roof-tops rang out their +merry notes; the ensigns of the little fishing-craft waved in the breeze, +and seemed to feel the general joy around them; while over the door of the +village inn stood a brilliantly lighted transparency, representing the +head of the O’Malleys holding a very scantily-robed young lady by the tips +of the fingers; but whether this damsel was intended to represent the +genius of the west, or my wife, I did not venture to inquire. +</p> +<p> +If the welcome were rude, assuredly it was a hearty one. Kind wishes and +blessings poured in on every side, and even our own happiness took a +brighter coloring from the beaming looks around us. The scene was wild; +the lurid glare of the red torchlight, the frantic gestures, the maddening +shouts, the forked flames rising amidst the dark shadows of the little +hamlet, had something strange and almost unearthly in their effect; but +Lucy showed no touch of fear. It is true she grasped my hand a little +closer, but her fair cheek glowed with pleasure, and her eye brightened as +she looked; and as the rich light fell upon her beauteous features, how +many a blessing, heart-felt and deep, how many a word of fervent praise +was spoken. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, then, the Lord be good to you; it’s yourself has the darling blue +eyes! Look at them, Mary; ain’t they like the blossoms on a peacock’s +tail? Musha, may sorrow never put a crease in that beautiful cheek! The +saints watch over you, for your mouth is like a moss-rose! Be good to her, +yer honor, for she’s a raal gem: devil fear you, Mr. Charles, but you’d +have a beauty!” +</p> +<p> +We wended our way slowly, the crowd ever thickening around us, until we +reached the market-place. Here the procession came to a stand, and I could +perceive, by certain efforts around me, that some endeavor was making to +enforce silence. +</p> +<p> +“Whisht, there! Hould your prate! Be still, Paddy! Tear an’ ages, Molly +Blake, don’t be holding me that way; let us hear his reverence. Put him up +on the barrel. Haven’t you got a chair for the priest? Run, and bring a +table out of Mat Haley’s. Here, Father—here, your reverence; take +care, will you,—you’ll have the holy man in the blaze!” +</p> +<p> +By this time I could perceive that my worthy old friend Father Rush was in +the midst of the mob with what appeared to be a written oration, as long +as the tail of a kite, between his hands. +</p> +<p> +“Be aisy, there, ye savages! Who’s tearing the back of my neck? Howld me +up straight! Steady, now—hem!” +</p> +<p> +“Take the laste taste in life to wet your lips, your riverence,” said a +kind voice, while at the same moment a smoking tumbler of what seemed to +be punch appeared on the heads of the crowd. +</p> +<p> +“Thank ye, Judy,” said the father, as he drained the cup. “Howld the light +up higher; I can’t read my speech. There now, be quiet, will ye! Here +goes. Peter, stand to me now and give me the word.” +</p> +<p> +This admonition was addressed to a figure on a barrel behind the priest, +who, as well as the imperfect light would permit me to descry, was the +coadjutor of the parish, Peter Nolan. Silence being perfectly established, +Father Rush began:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“When Mars, the god of war, on high, +Of battles first did think, +He girt his sword upon his thigh, +And— +</pre> +<p> +and—what is’t, Peter?” +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“And mixed a drop of drink.” +</pre> +<p> +“And mixed a drop of drink,” quoth Father Rush, with great emphasis; when +scarcely were the spoken words than a loud shout of laughter showed him +his mistake, and he overturned upon the luckless curate the full vial of +his wrath. +</p> +<p> +“What is it you mean, Father Peter? I’m ashamed of ye; faith, it’s may be +yourself, not Mars, you are speaking of.” +</p> +<p> +The roar of merriment around prevented me hearing what passed; but I could +see by Peter’s gestures—for it was too dark to see his face—that +he was expressing deep sorrow for the mistake. After a little time, order +was again established, and Father Rush resumed:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“But love drove battles from his head, +And sick of wounds and scars, +To Venus bright he knelt, and said— +</pre> +<p> +and said—and said; what the blazes did he say?” +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“I’ll make you Mrs. Mars,” +</pre> +<p> +shouted Peter, loud enough to be heard. +</p> +<p> +“Bad luck to you, Peter Nolan, it’s yourself’s the ruin of me this blessed +night! Here have I come four miles with my speech in my pocket, <i>per +imbres et ignes</i>.” Here the crowd crossed themselves devoutly. “Ay, +just so; and he spoiled it for me entirely.” At the earnest entreaty, +however, of the crowd, Father Rush, with renewed caution to his unhappy +prompter, again returned to the charge: +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Thus love compelled the god to yield +And seek for purer joys; +He laid aside his helm and shield, +And took— +took—took—” + +“And took to corduroys,” +</pre> +<p> +cried Father Nolan. +</p> +<p> +This time, however, the good priest’s patience could endure no more, and +he levelled a blow at his luckless colleague, which, missing his aim, lost +him his own balance, and brought him down from his eminence upon the heads +of the mob. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had I recovered the perfect convulsion of laughter into which +this scene had thrown me, when the broad brim of Father Nolan’s hat +appeared at the window of the carriage. Before I had time to address him, +he took it reverently from his head, disclosing in the act the +ever-memorable features of Master Frank Webber! +</p> +<p> +“What! Eh! Can it be?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“It is surely not—” said Lucy, hesitating at the name. +</p> +<p> +“Your aunt, Miss Judy Macan, no more than the Rev. Peter Nolan, I assure +you; though, I confess, it has cost me much more to personate the latter +character than the former, and the reward by no means so tempting.” +</p> +<p> +Here poor Lucy blushed deeply at the remembrance of the scene alluded to; +and anxious to turn the conversation, I asked by what stratagem he had +succeeded to the functions of the worthy Peter. +</p> +<p> +“At the cost of twelve tumblers of the strongest punch ever brewed at the +O’Malley Arms. The good father gave in only ten minutes before the oration +began, and I had barely time to change my dress and mount the barrel, +without a moment’s preparation.” +</p> +<p> +The procession once more resumed its march; and hurried along through the +town, we soon reached the avenue. Here fresh preparations for welcoming us +had also been made; but regardless of blazing tar-barrels and burning +logs, the reckless crowd pressed madly on, their wild cheers waking the +echoes as they went. We soon reached the house; but with a courtesy which +even the humblest and poorest native of this country is never devoid of, +the preparations of noise and festivity had not extended to the precincts +of the dwelling. With a tact which those of higher birth and older blood +might be proud of, they limited the excesses of their reckless and +careless merriment to their own village; so that as we approached the +terrace, all was peaceful, still, and quiet. +</p> +<p> +I lifted Lucy from the carriage, and passing my arm around her, was +assisting her to mount the steps, when a bright gleam of moonlight burst +forth and lit up the whole scene. It was, indeed, an impressive one. Among +the assembled hundreds there who stood bare-headed, beneath the cold +moonlight, not a word was now spoken, not a whisper heard. I turned from +the lawn, where the tall beech-trees were throwing their gigantic shadows, +to where the river, peering at intervals through the foliage, was flowing +on its silvery track, plashing amidst the tall flaggers that lined its +banks,—all were familiar, all were dear to me from childhood. How +doubly were they so now! I lifted up my eyes towards the door, and what +was my surprise at the object before them! Seated in a large chair was an +old man, whose white hair, flowing in straggling masses upon his neck and +shoulders, stirred with the night air; his hands rested upon his knees, +and his eyes, turned slightly upward, seemed to seek for some one he found +it difficult to recognize. Changed as he was by time, heavily as years had +done their work upon him, the stern features were not to be mistaken; but +as I looked, he called out in a voice whose unshaken firmness seemed to +defy the touch of time,— +</p> +<p> +“Charley O’Malley, come here, my boy! Bring her to me, till I bless you +both. Come here, Lucy,—I may call you so. Come here, my children. I +have tried to live on to see this day, when the head of an old house comes +back with honor, with fame, and with fortune, to dwell amidst his own +people in the old home of his fathers.” +</p> +<p> +The old man bent above us, his white hair falling upon the fair locks of +her who knelt beside him, and pressed his cold and quivering hand within +her own. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Lucy,” said I, as I led her within the house, “this is home.” +</p> +<p> +Here now ends my story. The patient reader who has followed me so far +deserves at my hands that I should not trespass upon his kindness one +moment beyond the necessity; if, however, any lurking interest may remain +for some of those who have accompanied me through this my history, it may +be as well that I should say a few words farther, ere they disappear +forever. +</p> +<p> +Power went to India immediately after his marriage, distinguished himself +repeatedly in the Burmese war, and finally rose to a high command that he +this moment holds, with honor to himself and advantage to his country. +</p> +<p> +O’Shaughnessy, on half-pay, wanders about the Continent, passing his +summers on the Rhine, his winters at Florence or Geneva. Known to and by +everybody, his interest in the service keeps him <i>au courant</i> to +every change and regulation, rendering him an invaluable companion to all +to whom an army list is inaccessible. He is the same good fellow he ever +was, and adds to his many excellent qualities the additional one of being +the only man who can make a bull in French! +</p> +<p> +Monsoon, the major, when last I saw him, was standing on the pier at +Calais, endeavoring, with a cheap telescope, to make out the Dover cliffs, +from a nearer prospect of which certain little family circumstances might +possibly debar him. He recognized me in a moment, and held out his hand, +while his eye twinkled with its ancient drollery. +</p> +<p> +“Charley, my son, how goes it? Delighted to see you. What a pity I did not +meet you yesterday! Had a little dinner at Crillon’s. Harding, Vivian, and +a few others. They all wished for you; ‘pon my life they did.” +</p> +<p> +“Civil, certainly,” thought I, “as I have not the honor of being known to +them.” +</p> +<p> +“You are at Meurice’s,” resumed he; “a very good house, but give you bad +wine, if they don’t know you. They know me,” added he, in a whisper; +“never try any tricks upon me. I’ll just drop in upon you at six.” +</p> +<p> +“It is most unfortunate, Major; I can’t have the pleasure you speak of; we +start in half an hour.” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind, Charley, never mind; another time. By-the-bye, now I think of +it, don’t you remember something of a ten-pound note you owe me?” +</p> +<p> +“As well as I remember, Major, the circumstance was reversed. You are the +debtor.” +</p> +<p> +“Upon my life, you are right; how droll. No matter; let me have the ten, +and I’ll give you a check for the whole.” +</p> +<p> +The major thrust his tongue into his cheek as he spoke, gave another leer, +pocketed the note, and sauntered down the pier, muttering something to +himself about King David and greenhorns; but how they were connected I +could not precisely overhear. +</p> +<p> +Baby Blake, or Mrs. Sparks,—to call her by her more fitting +appellation,—is as handsome as ever, and not less good-humored and +light-hearted, her severest trials being her ineffectual efforts to +convert Sparks into something like a man for Galway. +</p> +<p> +Last of all, Mickey Free. Mike remains attached to our fortune firmly, as +at first he opened his career; the same gay, rollicksome Irishman, making +songs, making love, and occasionally making punch, he spends his days and +his nights pretty much as he was wont to do some thirty years ago. He +obtains an occasional leave of absence for a week or so, but for what +precise purpose, or with what exact object, I have never been completely +able to ascertain. I have heard, it as true, that a very fascinating +companion and a most agreeable gentleman frequents a certain oyster-house +in Dublin called Burton Bindon’s. I have also been told of a distinguished +foreigner, whose black mustache and broken English were the admiration of +Cheltenham for the last two winters. I greatly fear from the high tone of +the conversation in the former, and for the taste in continental +characters in the latter resort, that I could fix upon the individual +whose convivial and social gifts have won so much of their esteem and +admiration; but were I to run on thus, I should recur to every character +of my story, with each and all of whom you have, doubtless, grown well +wearied. So here for the last time, and with every kind wish, I say, +adieu! +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +L’ENVOI. +</h2> +<p> +Kind friends,—It is somewhat unfortunate that the record of the +happiest portion of my friend’s life should prove the saddest part of my +duty as his editor, and for this reason, that it brings me to that spot +where my acquaintance with you must close, and sounds the hour when I must +say, good-bye. +</p> +<p> +They, who have never felt the mysterious link that binds the solitary +scribe in his lonely study, to the circle of his readers, can form no +adequate estimate of what his feelings are when that chain is about to be +broken; they know not how often, in the fictitious garb of his narrative, +he has clothed the inmost workings of his heart; they know not how +frequently he has spoken aloud his secret thoughts, revealing, as though +to a dearest friend, the springs of his action, the causes of his sorrow, +the sources of his hope; they cannot believe by what a sympathy he is +bound to those who bow their heads above his pages; they do not think how +the ideal creations of his brain are like mutual friends between him and +the world, through whom he is known and felt and thought of, and by whom +he reaps in his own heart the rich harvest of flattery and kindness that +are rarely refused to any effort to please, however poor, however humble. +They know not this, nor can they feel the hopes, the fears, that stir +within him, to earn some passing word of praise; nor think they, when won, +what brightness around his humble hearth it may be shedding. These are the +rewards for nights of toil and days of thought; these are the recompenses +which pay the haggard cheek, the sunken eye, the racked and tired head. +These are the stakes for which one plays his health, his leisure, and his +life, yet not regrets the game. +</p> +<p> +Nearly three years have now elapsed since I first made my bow before you. +How many events have crowded into that brief space! How many things of +vast moment have occurred! Only think that in the last few months you’ve +frightened the French; terrified M. Thiers; worried the Chinese; and are, +at this very moment, putting the Yankees into a “<i>most uncommon fix</i>;” +not to mention the minor occupations of ousting the Whigs; reinstating the +Tories, and making O’Connell Lord Mayor,—and yet, with all these and +a thousand other minor cares, you have not forgotten your poor friend, the +Irish Dragoon. Now this was really kind of you, and in my heart I thank +you for it. +</p> +<p> +Do not, I entreat you, construe my gratitude into any sense of future +favors,—no such thing; for whatever may be my success with you +hereafter, I am truly deeply grateful for the past. Circumstances, into +which I need not enter, have made me for some years past a resident in a +foreign country, and as my lot has thrown me into a land where the +reputation of writing a book is pretty much on a par with that of picking +a pocket, it may readily be conceived with what warm thankfulness I have +caught at any little testimonies of your approval which chance may have +thrown in my way. +</p> +<p> +Like the reduced gentlewoman who, compelled by poverty to cry fresh eggs +through the streets, added after every call, “I hope nobody hears me;” so +I, finding it convenient, for a not very dissimilar reason, to write +books, keep my authorship as quietly to myself as need be, and comfort me +with the assurance that nobody knows me. +</p> +<p> +A word now to my critics. Never had any man more reason to be satisfied +with that class than myself. As if you knew and cared for the temperament +of the man you were reviewing; as if you were aware of the fact that it +was at any moment in your power, by a single article of severe censure, to +have extinguished in him forever all effort, all ambition for success,—you +have mercifully extended to him the mildest treatment, and meted out even +your disparagement, with a careful measure. +</p> +<p> +While I have studied your advice with attention, and read your criticisms +with care, I confess I have trembled more than once before your more +palpable praise; for I thought you might be hoaxing me. +</p> +<p> +Now and then, to be sure, I have been accused of impressing real +individuals, and compelling them to serve in my book; that this reproach +was unjust, they who know me can best vouch for, while I myself can +honestly aver, that I never took a portrait without the consent of the +sitter. +</p> +<p> +Others again have fallen foul of me, for treating of things, places, and +people with which I had no opportunity of becoming personally acquainted. +Thus one of my critics has showed that I could not have been a Trinity +College man; and another has denied my military matriculation. Now, +although both my Latin and my learning are on the peace establishment, and +if examined in the movements for cavalry, it is perfectly possible I +should be cautioned, yet as I have both a degree and a commission I might +have been spared this reproach. +</p> +<p> +“Of coorse,” says Father Malachi Brennan, who leans over my shoulder while +I write,—“of coorse you ought to know all about these things as well +as the Duke of Wellington or Marshal Soult himself. UNDE DERYVATUR MILES. +Ain’t you in the Derry militia?” I hope the Latin and the translation will +satisfy every objection. +</p> +<p> +While, then, I have nothing but thankfulness in my heart respecting the +entire press of my own country, I have a small grudge with my friends of +the far west; and as this is a season of complaint against the Yankees, +“Why shouldn’t I roll my tub also?” A certain New York paper, called the +“Sunday Times,” has thought fit for some time past to fill its columns +with a story of the Peninsular war, announcing it as “by the author of +Charles O’Malley.” Heaven knows that injured individual has sins enough of +his own to answer for, without fathering a whole foundling hospital of +American balderdash; but this kidnapping spirit of brother Jonathan would +seem to be the fashion of the day! Not content with capturing Macleod, who +unhappily ventured within his frontier, he must come over to Ireland and +lay hands on Harry Lorrequer. Thus difficulties are thickening every day. +When they dispose of the colonel, then comes the boundary question; after +that there is Grogan’s affair, then me. They may liberate Macleod; <a +href="#linknote-3"><small>3</small></a> they may abandon the State of +Maine,—but what recompense can be made to me for this foul attack on +my literary character? It has been suggested to me from the Foreign Office +that the editor might be hanged. I confess I should like this; but after +all it would be poor satisfaction for the injury done me. Meanwhile, as +Macleod has the <i>pas</i> of me, I’ll wait patiently, and think the +matter over. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"> +<!-- Note --></a> +</p> +<p class="foot"> +3 [ I have just read that Macleod and Grogan have been liberated. May I +indulge a hope that <i>my</i> case will engage the sympathies of the world +during the Christmas holidays. H. L.] +</p> +<p> +It was my intention, before taking leave of you, to have apologized +separately for many blunders in my book; but the errors of the press are +too palpable to be attributed to me. I have written letters without end, +begged, prayed, and entreated that more care might be bestowed; but +somehow, after all, they have crept in in spite of me. Indeed, latterly I +began to think I had found out the secret of it. My publisher, excellent +man, has a kind of pride about printing in Ireland, and he thinks the +blunders, like the green cover to the volume, give the thing a national +look. I think it was a countryman of mine of whom the story is told, that +he apologized for his spelling by the badness of his pen. This excuse, a +little extended, may explain away anacronisms, and if it won’t I am sorry +for it, for I have no other. +</p> +<p> +Here then I conclude: I must say, adieu! Yet can I not do so before I +again assure you that if perchance I may have lightened an hour of <i>your</i> +solitude, you, my kind friends, have made happy whole weeks and days of <i>mine</i>; +and if happily I have called up a passing smile upon <i>your</i> lip, your +favor has spoken joy and gladness to many a heart around <i>my</i> board. +Is it, then, strange that I should be grateful for the past; be sorrowful +for the present? +</p> +<p> +To one and all, then, a happy Christmas; and if before the new year, you +have not forgotten me, I shall be delighted to have your company at OUR +MESS. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile believe me most respectfully and faithfully yours, +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +HARRY LORREQUER. + +BRUSSELS, November, 1841. +</pre> +<p> +THE END. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Charles O’Malley, The Irish Dragoon, +Volume 2 (of 2), by Charles Lever + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLES O’MALLEY, II. *** + +***** This file should be named 8674-h.htm or 8674-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/8/6/7/8674/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team. Illustrated +HTML by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from +the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method +you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is +owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he +has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments +must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you +prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax +returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and +sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the +address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to +the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies +you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he +does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License. You must require such a user to return or +destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium +and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of +Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any +money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the +electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days +of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free +distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: +Dr. Gregory B. Newby +Chief Executive and Director +gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/8674-h/images/0001.jpg b/8674-h/images/0001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a57bbf --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0001.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0001h.jpg b/8674-h/images/0001h.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a0d09c --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0001h.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0034.jpg b/8674-h/images/0034.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..55579f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0034.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0083.jpg b/8674-h/images/0083.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..af3db07 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0083.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0102.jpg b/8674-h/images/0102.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bed211d --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0102.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0124.jpg b/8674-h/images/0124.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f82d0f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0124.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0158.jpg b/8674-h/images/0158.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7651c2a --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0158.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0163.jpg b/8674-h/images/0163.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7bd0b59 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0163.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0217.jpg b/8674-h/images/0217.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e47f77 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0217.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0225.jpg b/8674-h/images/0225.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1db9f9e --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0225.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0247.jpg b/8674-h/images/0247.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..71bdbf7 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0247.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0255.jpg b/8674-h/images/0255.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b0de639 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0255.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0317.jpg b/8674-h/images/0317.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f1a7cf6 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0317.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0362.jpg b/8674-h/images/0362.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..889d2b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0362.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0410.jpg b/8674-h/images/0410.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..339acb9 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0410.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0412.jpg b/8674-h/images/0412.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..70626e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0412.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0471.jpg b/8674-h/images/0471.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..176a249 --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0471.jpg diff --git a/8674-h/images/0481.jpg b/8674-h/images/0481.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ea108c --- /dev/null +++ b/8674-h/images/0481.jpg |
