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diff --git a/8577-h/8577-h.htm b/8577-h/8577-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f3fb5b --- /dev/null +++ b/8577-h/8577-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,23740 @@ +<?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, 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> + <h2> + The Irish Dragoon + </h2> + <h2> + BY CHARLES LEVER. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume +1 (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 1 (of 2) + +Author: Charles Lever + +Release Date: August 13, 2004 [EBook #8577] +Last Updated: September 2, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLES O'MALLEY, I. *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team. Illustrated +HTML by David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<h1> +CHARLES O’MALLEY +</h1> +<h2> +The Irish Dragoon +</h2> +<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 /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +Volume I. +</h2> +<p> +<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="The Sunk Fence " /><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"> A WORD OF EXPLANATION. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2H_4_0003"> 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 XXLIII. </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="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER LVI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER LVII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0058"> CHAPTER LVIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0059"> CHAPTER LXIX. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0060"> CHAPTER LX. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0061"> CHAPTER LXI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0062"> CHAPTER LXII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0063"> CHAPTER LXIII. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0064"> CHAPTER LXIV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0065"> CHAPTER LXV. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0066"> CHAPTER LXVI. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0067"> CHAPTER LXVII. </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"> The Sunk Fence </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0002"> Mr. Blake’s Dressing Room. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0003"> The Election. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0004"> The Rescue. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0005"> Mr. Crow Well Plucked. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0006"> Frank Webber at his Studies. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0007"> Miss Judy Macan. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0008"> Charles Pops the Question. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0009"> The Adjutant’s After Dinner Ride. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0010"> The Rival Flunkies. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0011"> Major Monsoon and Donna Maria. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0012"> The Salutation. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0013"> The Skirmish. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0014"> A Touch at Leap-frog With Napoleon. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0015"> Major Monsoon Trying to Charge. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0016"> Mr. Free’s Song. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0017"> The Coat of Mail. </a> +</p> +</blockquote> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +TO THE + +MOST NOBLE THE MARQUESS OF DOURO, M.P., D.C.L., ETC., ETC. + + +MY DEAR LORD,— + +The imperfect attempt to picture forth some scenes of the most +brilliant period of my country’s history might naturally suggest their +dedication to the son of him who gave that era its glory. I feel, +however, in the weakness of the effort, the presumption of such a +thought, and would simply ask of you to accept these volumes as a +souvenir of many delightful hours passed long since in your society, +and a testimony of the deep pride with which I regard the honor of your +friendship. + +Believe me, my dear Lord, with every respect and esteem, + +Yours, most sincerely, + +THE AUTHOR. + +BRUSSELS, November, 1841. +</pre> +<p> +<a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> + +<h2> +A WORD OF EXPLANATION. +</h2> +<p> +KIND PUBLIC,— +</p> +<p> +Having so lately taken my leave of the stage, in a farewell benefit, it is +but fitting that I should explain the circumstances which once more bring +me before you,—that I may not appear intrusive, where I have met +with but too much indulgence. +</p> +<p> +A blushing <i>debutante</i>—<i>entre nous</i>, the most impudent +Irishman that ever swaggered down Sackville Street—has requested me +to present him to your acquaintance. He has every ambition to be a +favorite with you; but says—God forgive him—he is too bashful +for the foot-lights. +</p> +<p> +He has remarked—-as, doubtless, many others have done—upon +what very slight grounds, and with what slender pretension, <i>my</i> +Confessions have met with favor at the hands of the press and the public; +and the idea has occurred to him to indite his <i>own</i>. Had his +determination ended here, I should have nothing to object to; but +unfortunately, he expects me to become his editor, and in some sort +responsible for the faults of his production. I have wasted much eloquence +and more breath in assuring him that I was no tried favorite of the +public, who dared take liberties with them; that the small rag of +reputation I enjoyed, was a very scanty covering for my own nakedness; +that the plank which swam with one, would most inevitably sink with two; +and lastly, that the indulgence so often bestowed upon a first effort is +as frequently converted into censure on the older offender. My arguments +have, however, totally failed, and he remains obdurate and unmoved. Under +these circumstances I have yielded; and as, happily for me, the short and +pithy direction to the river Thames, in the Critic, “to keep between its +banks,” has been imitated by my friend, I find all that is required of me +is to write my name upon the title and go in peace. Such, he informs me, +is modern editorship. +</p> +<p> +In conclusion, I would beg, that if the debt he now incurs at your hands +remain unpaid, you would kindly bear in mind that your remedy lies against +the drawer of the bill and not against its mere humble indorser, +</p> +<p> +HARRY LORREQUER +</p> +<p> +BRUSSELS, March, 1840. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +PREFACE +</h2> +<p> +The success of Harry Lorrequer was the reason for writing Charles +O’Malley. That I myself was in no wise prepared for the favor the public +bestowed on my first attempt is easily enough understood. The ease with +which I strung my stories together,—and in reality the Confessions +of Harry Lorrequer are little other than a note-book of absurd and +laughable incidents,—led me to believe that I could draw on this +vein of composition without any limit whatever. I felt, or thought I felt, +an inexhaustible store of fun and buoyancy within me, and I began to have +a misty, half-confused impression that Englishmen generally labored under +a sad-colored temperament, took depressing views of life, and were +proportionately grateful to any one who would rally them even passingly +out of their despondency, and give them a laugh without much trouble for +going in search of it. +</p> +<p> +When I set to work to write Charles O’Malley I was, as I have ever been, +very low with fortune, and the success of a new venture was pretty much as +eventful to me as the turn of the right color at <i>rouge-et-noir</i>. At +the same time I had then an amount of spring in my temperament, and a +power of enjoying life which I can honestly say I never found surpassed. +The world had for me all the interest of an admirable comedy, in which the +part allotted myself, if not a high or a foreground one, was eminently +suited to my taste, and brought me, besides, sufficiently often on the +stage to enable me to follow all the fortunes of the piece. Brussels, +where I was then living, was adorned at the period by a most agreeable +English society. Some leaders of the fashionable world of London had come +there to refit and recruit, both in body and estate. There were several +pleasant and a great number of pretty people among them; and so far as I +could judge, the fashionable dramas of Belgrave Square and its vicinity +were being performed in the Rue Royale and the Boulevard de Waterloo with +very considerable success. There were dinners, balls, déjeûners, and +picnics in the Bois de Cambre, excursions to Waterloo, and select little +parties to Bois-fort,—a charming little resort in the forest whose +intense cockneyism became perfectly inoffensive as being in a foreign +land, and remote from the invasion of home-bred vulgarity. I mention all +these things to show the adjuncts by which I was aided, and the rattle of +gayety by which I was, as it were, “accompanied,” when I next tried my +voice. +</p> +<p> +The soldier element tinctured strongly our society, and I will say most +agreeably. Among those whom I remember best were several old Peninsulars. +Lord Combermere was of this number, and another of our set was an officer +who accompanied, if indeed he did not command, the first boat party who +crossed the Douro. It is needless to say how I cultivated a society so +full of all the storied details I was eager to obtain, and how generously +disposed were they to give me all the information I needed. On topography +especially were they valuable to me, and with such good result that I have +been more than once complimented on the accuracy of my descriptions of +places which I have never seen and whose features I have derived entirely +from the narratives of my friends. +</p> +<p> +When, therefore, my publishers asked me could I write a story in the +Lorrequer vein, in which active service and military adventure could +figure more prominently than mere civilian life, and where the +achievements of a British army might form the staple of the narrative,—when +this question was propounded me, I was ready to reply: Not one, but fifty. +Do not mistake me, and suppose that any overweening confidence in my +literary powers would have emboldened me to make this reply; my whole +strength lay in the fact that I could not recognize anything like literary +effort in the matter. If the world would only condescend to read that +which I wrote precisely as I was in the habit of talking, nothing could be +easier than for me to occupy them. Not alone was it very easy to me, but +it was intensely interesting and amusing to myself, to be so engaged. +</p> +<p> +The success of Harry Lorrequer had been freely wafted across the German +ocean, but even in its mildest accents it was very intoxicating incense to +me; and I set to work on my second book with a thrill of hope as regards +the world’s favor which—and it is no small thing to say it—I +can yet recall. +</p> +<p> +I can recall, too, and I am afraid more vividly still, some of the +difficulties of my task when I endeavored to form anything like an +accurate or precise idea of some campaigning incident or some passage of +arms from the narratives of two distinct and separate “eye-witnesses.” + What mistrust I conceived for all eye-witnesses from my own brief +experience of their testimonies! What an impulse did it lend me to study +the nature and the temperament of narrator, as indicative of the peculiar +coloring he might lend his narrative; and how it taught me to know the +force of the French epigram that has declared how it was entirely the +alternating popularity of Marshal Soult that decided whether he won or +lost the battle of Toulouse. +</p> +<p> +While, however, I was sifting these evidences, and separating, as well as +I might, the wheat from the chaff, I was in a measure training myself for +what, without my then knowing it, was to become my career in life. This +was not therefore altogether without a certain degree of labor, but so +light and pleasant withal, so full of picturesque peeps at character and +humorous views of human nature, that it would be the very rankest +ingratitude of me if I did not own that I gained all my earlier +experiences of the world in very pleasant company,—highly enjoyable +at the time, and with matter for charming souvenirs long after. +</p> +<p> +That certain traits of my acquaintances found themselves embodied in some +of the characters of this story I do not to deny. The principal of natural +selection adapts itself to novels as to Nature, and it would have demanded +an effort above my strength to have disabused myself at the desk of all +the impressions of the dinner-table, and to have forgotten features which +interested or amused me. +</p> +<p> +One of the personages of my tale I drew, however, with very little aid +from fancy. I would go so far as to say that I took him from the life, if +my memory did not confront me with the lamentable inferiority of my +picture to the great original it was meant to portray. +</p> +<p> +With the exception of the quality of courage, I never met a man who +contained within himself so many of the traits of Falstaff as the +individual who furnished me with Major Monsoon. But the major—I must +call him so, though that rank was far beneath his own—was a man of +unquestionable bravery. His powers as a story-teller were to my thinking +unrivalled; the peculiar reflections on life which he would passingly +introduce, the wise apothegms, were after a morality essentially of his +own invention. Then he would indulge in the unsparing exhibition of +himself in situations such as other men would never have confessed to, all +blended up with a racy enjoyment of life, dashed occasionally with sorrow +that our tenure of it was short of patriarchal. All these, accompanied by +a face redolent of intense humor, and a voice whose modulations were +managed with the skill of a consummate artist,—all these, I say, +were above me to convey; nor indeed as I re-read any of the adventures in +which he figures, am I other than ashamed at the weakness of my drawing +and the poverty of my coloring. +</p> +<p> +That I had a better claim to personify him than is always the lot of a +novelist; that I possessed, so to say, a vested interest in his life and +adventures,—I will relate a little incident in proof; and my +accuracy, if necessary, can be attested by another actor in the scene, who +yet survives. +</p> +<p> +I was living a bachelor life at Brussels, my family being at Ostende for +the bathing, during the summer of 1840. The city was comparatively empty,—all +the so-called society being absent at the various spas or baths of +Germany. One member of the British legation, who remained at his post to +represent the mission, and myself, making common cause of our desolation +and ennui, spent much of our time together, and dined <i>tête-à-tête</i> +every day. +</p> +<p> +It chanced that one evening, as we were hastening through the park on our +way to dinner, we espied the major—for as major I must speak of him—lounging +along with that half-careless, half-observant air we had both of us +remarked as indicating a desire to be somebody’s, anybody’s guest, rather +than surrender himself to the homeliness of domestic fare. +</p> +<p> +“There’s that confounded old Monsoon,” cried my diplomatic friend. “It’s +all up if he sees us, and I can’t endure him.” + </p> +<p> +Now, I must remark that my friend, though very far from insensible to the +humoristic side of the major’s character, was not always in the vein to +enjoy it; and when so indisposed he could invest the object of his dislike +with something little short of antipathy. “Promise me,” said he, as +Monsoon came towards us,—“promise me, you’ll not ask him to dinner.” + Before I could make any reply, the major was shaking a hand of either of +us, and rapturously expatiating over his good luck at meeting us. “Mrs. +M.,” said he, “has got a dreary party of old ladies to dine with her, and +I have come out here to find some pleasant fellow to join me, and take our +mutton-chop together.” + </p> +<p> +“We’re behind our time, Major,” said my friend, “sorry to leave you so +abruptly, but must push on. Eh, Lorrequer,” added he, to evoke +corroboration on my part. +</p> +<p> +“Harry says nothing of the kind,” replied Monsoon, “he says, or he’s going +to say, ‘Major, I have a nice bit of dinner waiting for me at home, enough +for two, will feed three, or if there be a short-coming, nothing easier +than to eke out the deficiency by another bottle of Moulton; come along +with us then, Monsoon, and we shall be all the merrier for your company.’” + </p> +<p> +Repeating his last words, “Come along, Monsoon,” etc., I passed my arm +within his, and away we went. For a moment my friend tried to get free and +leave me, but I held him fast and carried him along in spite of himself. +He was, however, so chagrined and provoked that till the moment we reached +my door he never uttered a word, nor paid the slightest attention to +Monsoon, who talked away in a vein that occasionally made gravity all but +impossible. +</p> +<p> +Our dinner proceeded drearily enough, the diplomatist’s stiffness never +relaxed for a moment, and my own awkwardness damped all my attempts at +conversation. Not so, however, Monsoon, he ate heartily, approved of +everything, and pronounced my wine to be exquisite. He gave us a perfect +discourse on sherry and Spanish wines in general, told us the secret of +the Amontillado flavor, and explained that process of browning by boiling +down wine which some are so fond of in England. At last, seeing perhaps +that the protection had little charm for us, with his accustomed tact, he +diverged into anecdote. “I was once fortunate enough,” said he, “to fall +upon some of that choice sherry from the St. Lucas Luentas which is always +reserved for royalty. It was a pale wine, delicious in the drinking, and +leaving no more flavor in the mouth than a faint dryness that seemed to +say, another glass. Shall I tell you how I came by it?” And scarcely +pausing for reply, he told the story of having robbed his own convoy, and +stolen the wine he was in charge of for safe conveyance. +</p> +<p> +I wish I could give any, even the weakest idea of how he narrated that +incident,—the struggle that he portrayed between duty and +temptation, and the apologetic tone of his voice in which he explained +that the frame of mind that succeeds to any yielding to seductive +influences, is often, in the main, more profitable to a man than is the +vain-glorious sense of having resisted a temptation. “Meekness is the +mother of all the virtues,” said he, “and there is no being meek without +frailty.” The story, told as he told it, was too much for the +diplomatist’s gravity, he resisted all signs of attention as long as he +was able, and at last fairly roared out with laughter. +</p> +<p> +As soon as I myself recovered from the effects of his drollery, I said, +“Major, I have a proposition to make you. Let me tell the story in print, +and I’ll give you five naps.” + </p> +<p> +“Are you serious, Harry?” asked he. “Is this on honor?” + </p> +<p> +“On honor, assuredly,” I replied. +</p> +<p> +“Let me have the money down, on the nail, and I’ll give you leave to have +me and my whole life, every adventure that ever befell me, ay, and if you +like, every moral reflection that my experiences have suggested.” + </p> +<p> +“Done!” cried I, “I agree.” + </p> +<p> +“Not so fast,” cried the diplomatist, “we must make a protocol of this; +the high contracting parties must know what they give and what they +receive, I’ll draw out the treaty.” + </p> +<p> +He did so at full length on a sheet of that solemn blue-tinted paper, so +dedicated to despatch purposes; he duly set fourth the concession and the +consideration. We each signed the document; he witnessed and sealed it; +and Monsoon pocketed my five napoleons, filling a bumper to any success +the bargain might bring me, and of which I have never had reason to +express deep disappointment. +</p> +<p> +This document, along with my university degree, my commission in a militia +regiment, and a vast amount of letters very interesting to me, was seized +by the Austrian authorities on the way from Como to Florence, in the +August of 1847, being deemed part of a treasonable correspondence,—probably +purposely allegorical in form,—and never restored to me. I fairly +own that I’d give all the rest willingly to repossess myself of the +Monsoon treaty, not a little for the sake of that quaint old autograph, +faintly shaken by the quiet laugh with which he wrote it. +</p> +<p> +That I did not entirely fail in giving my major some faint resemblance to +the great original from whom I copied him, I may mention that he was +speedily recognized in print by the Marquis of Londonderry, the well-known +Sir Charles Stuart of the Peninsular campaign. “I know that fellow well,” + said he, “he once sent me a challenge, and I had to make him a very humble +apology. The occasion was this: I had been out with a single aide-de-camp +to make a reconnaissance in front of Victor’s division; and to avoid +attracting any notice, we covered over our uniform with two common gray +overcoats which reached to the feet, and effectually concealed our rank as +officers. Scarcely, however, had we topped a hill which commanded the view +of the French, than a shower of shells flew over and around us. Amazed to +think how we could have been so quickly noticed, I looked around me, and +discovered, quite close in my rear, your friend Monsoon with what he +called his staff,—a popinjay set of rascals dressed out in green and +gold, and with more plumes and feathers than the general staff ever +boasted. Carried away by momentary passion at the failure of my +reconnaissance, I burst out with some insolent allusion to the harlequin +assembly which had drawn the French fire upon us. Monsoon saluted me +respectfully, and retired without a word; but I had scarcely reached my +quarters when a ‘friend’ of his waited on me with a message, a very +categorical message it was, too, ‘it must be a meeting or an ample +apology.’ I made the apology, a most full one, for the major was right, +and I had not a fraction of reason to sustain me in my conduct, and we +have been the best of friends ever since.” + </p> +<p> +I myself had heard the incident before this from Monsoon, but told among +other adventures whose exact veracity I was rather disposed to question, +and did not therefore accord it all the faith that was its due; and I +admit that the accidental corroboration of this one event very often +served to puzzle me afterwards, when I listened to stories in which the +major seemed a second Munchausen, but might, like in this of the duel, +have been among the truest and most matter-of-fact of historians. May the +reader be not less embarrassed than myself, is my sincere, if not very +courteous, prayer. +</p> +<p> +I have no doubt myself, that often in recounting some strange incident,—a +personal experience it always was,—he was himself more amused by the +credulity of the hearers, and the amount of interest he could excite in +them, than were they by the story. He possessed the true narrative gusto, +and there was a marvellous instinct in the way in which he would vary a +tale to suit the tastes of an audience; while his moralizings were almost +certain to take the tone of a humoristic quiz on the company. +</p> +<p> +Though fully aware that I was availing myself of the contract that +delivered him into my hands, and dining with me two or three days a week, +he never lapsed into any allusion to his appearance in print; and the +story had been already some weeks published before he asked me to lend him +“that last thing—he forgot the name of it—I was writing.” + </p> +<p> +Of Frank Webber I have said, in a former notice, that he was one of my +earliest friends, my chum in college, and in the very chambers where I +have located Charles O’Malley, in Old Trinity. He was a man of the highest +order of abilities, and with a memory that never forgot, but ruined and +run to seed by the idleness that came of a discursive, uncertain +temperament. Capable of anything, he spent his youth in follies and +eccentricities; every one of which, however, gave indications of a mind +inexhaustible in resources, and abounding in devices and contrivances that +none other but himself would have thought of. Poor fellow, he died young; +and perhaps it is better it should have been so. Had he lived to a later +day, he would most probably have been found a foremost leader of +Fenianism; and from what I knew of him, I can say he would have been a +more dangerous enemy to English rule than any of those dealers in the +petty larceny of rebellion we have lately seen among us. +</p> +<p> +I have said that of Mickey Free I had not one but one thousand types. +Indeed, I am not quite sure that in my last visit to Dublin, I did not +chance on a living specimen of the “Free” family, much readier in +repartée, quicker with an apropos, and droller in illustration than my own +Mickey. This fellow was “boots” at a great hotel in Sackville Street; and +I owe him more amusement and some heartier laughs than it has been always +my fortune to enjoy in a party of wits. His criticisms on my sketches of +Irish character were about the shrewdest and the best I ever listened to; +and that I am not bribed to this by any flattery, I may remark that they +were more often severe than complimentary, and that he hit every blunder +of image, every mistake in figure, of my peasant characters, with an +acuteness and correctness which made me very grateful to know that his +daily occupations were limited to blacking boots, and not polishing off +authors. +</p> +<p> +I believe I have now done with my confessions, except I should like to own +that this story was the means of according me a more heartfelt glow of +satisfaction, a more gratifying sense of pride, than anything I ever have +or ever shall write, and in this wise. My brother, at that time the rector +of an Irish parish, once forwarded to me a letter from a lady unknown to +him, but who had heard he was the brother of “Harry Lorrequer,” and who +addressed him not knowing where a letter might be directed to myself. The +letter was the grateful expression of a mother, who said, “I am the widow +of a field officer, and with an only son, for whom I obtained a +presentation to Woolwich; but seeing in my boy’s nature certain traits of +nervousness and timidity which induced me to hesitate on embarking him in +the career of a soldier, I became very unhappy and uncertain which course +to decide on. +</p> +<p> +“While in this state of uncertainty, I chanced to make him a birthday +present of ‘Charles O’Malley,’ the reading of which seemed to act like a +charm on his whole character, inspiring him with a passion for movement +and adventure, and spiriting him to an eager desire for a military life. +Seeing that this was no passing enthusiasm, but a decided and determined +bent, I accepted the cadetship for him; and his career has been not alone +distinguished as a student, but one which has marked him out for an almost +hare-brained courage, and for a dash and heroism that give high promise +for his future. +</p> +<p> +“Thank your brother for me,” wrote she, “a mother’s thanks for the welfare +of an only son; and say how I wish that my best wishes for him and his +could recompense him for what I owe him.” + </p> +<p> +I humbly hope that it may not be imputed to me as unpardonable vanity,—the +recording of this incident. It gave me an intense pleasure when I heard +it; and now, as I look back on it, it invests this story for myself with +an interest which nothing else that I have written can afford me. +</p> +<p> +I have now but to repeat what I have declared in former editions, my +sincere gratitude for the favor the public still continues to bestow on +me,—a favor which probably associates the memory of this book with +whatever I have since done successfully, and compels me to remember that +to the popularity of “Charles O’Malley” I am indebted for a great share of +that kindliness in criticism, and that geniality in judgment, which—for +more than a quarter of a century—my countrymen have graciously +bestowed on their faithful friend and servant, +</p> +<p> +CHARLES LEVER. TRIESTE, 1872. <br /><br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /><br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h1> +CHARLES O’MALLEY. +</h1> +<h3> +THE IRISH DRAGOON. +</h3> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER I. +</h2> +<p> +DALY’S CLUB-HOUSE. +</p> +<p> +The rain was dashing in torrents against the window-panes, and the wind +sweeping in heavy and fitful gusts along the dreary and deserted streets, +as a party of three persons sat over their wine, in that stately old pile +which once formed the resort of the Irish Members, in College Green, +Dublin, and went by the name of Daly’s Club-House. The clatter of falling +tiles and chimney-pots, the jarring of the window-frames, and howling of +the storm without seemed little to affect the spirits of those within as +they drew closer to a blazing fire before which stood a small table +covered with the remains of a dessert, and an abundant supply of bottles, +whose characteristic length of neck indicated the rarest wines of France +and Germany; while the portly magnum of claret—the wine <i>par +excellence</i> of every Irish gentleman of the day—passed rapidly +from hand to hand, the conversation did not languish, and many a deep and +hearty laugh followed the stories which every now and then were told, as +some reminiscence of early days was recalled, or some trait of a former +companion remembered. +</p> +<p> +One of the party, however, was apparently engrossed by other thoughts than +those of the mirth and merriment around; for in the midst of all he would +turn suddenly from the others, and devote himself to a number of scattered +sheets of paper, upon which he had written some lines, but whose crossed +and blotted sentences attested how little success had waited upon his +literary labors. This individual was a short, plethoric-looking, +white-haired man of about fifty, with a deep, round voice, and a +chuckling, smothering laugh, which, whenever he indulged not only shook +his own ample person, but generally created a petty earthquake on every +side of him. For the present, I shall not stop to particularize him more +closely; but when I add that the person in question was a well-known +member of the Irish House of Commons, whose acute understanding and +practical good sense were veiled under an affected and well-dissembled +habit of blundering that did far more for his party than the most violent +and pointed attacks of his more accurate associates, some of my readers +may anticipate me in pronouncing him to be Sir Harry Boyle. Upon his left +sat a figure the most unlike him possible. He was a tall, thin, bony man, +with a bolt-upright air and a most saturnine expression; his eyes were +covered by a deep green shade, which fell far over his face, but failed to +conceal a blue scar that crossing his cheek ended in the angle of his +mouth, and imparted to that feature, when he spoke, an apparently abortive +attempt to extend towards his eyebrow; his upper lip was covered with a +grizzly and ill-trimmed mustache, which added much to the ferocity of his +look, while a thin and pointed beard on his chin gave an apparent length +to the whole face that completed its rueful character. His dress was a +single-breasted, tightly buttoned frock, in one button-hole of which a +yellow ribbon was fastened, the decoration of a foreign service, which +conferred upon its wearer the title of count; and though Billy Considine, +as he was familiarly called by his friends, was a thorough Irishman in all +his feelings and affections, yet he had no objection to the designation he +had gained in the Austrian army. The Count was certainly no beauty, but +somehow, very few men of his day had a fancy for telling him so. A +deadlier hand and a steadier eye never covered his man in the Phoenix; and +though he never had a seat in the House, he was always regarded as one of +the government party, who more than once had damped the ardor of an +opposition member by the very significant threat of “setting Billy at +him.” The third figure of the group was a large, powerfully built, and +handsome man, older than either of the others, but not betraying in his +voice or carriage any touch of time. He was attired in the green coat and +buff vest which formed the livery of the club; and in his tall, ample +forehead, clear, well-set eye, and still handsome mouth, bore evidence +that no great flattery was necessary at the time which called Godfrey +O’Malley the handsomest man in Ireland. +</p> +<p> +“Upon my conscience,” said Sir Harry, throwing down his pen with an air of +ill-temper, “I can make nothing of it! I have got into such an infernal +habit of making bulls, that I can’t write sense when I want it!” + </p> +<p> +“Come, come,” said O’Malley, “try again, my dear fellow. If you can’t +succeed, I’m sure Billy and I have no chance.” + </p> +<p> +“What have you written? Let us see,” said Considine, drawing the paper +towards him, and holding it to the light. “Why, what the devil is all +this? You have made him ‘drop down dead after dinner of a lingering +illness brought on by the debate of yesterday.’” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, impossible!” + </p> +<p> +“Well, read it yourself; there it is. And, as if to make the thing less +credible, you talk of his ‘Bill for the Better Recovery of Small Debts.’ +I’m sure, O’Malley, your last moments were not employed in that manner.” + </p> +<p> +“Come, now,” said Sir Harry, “I’ll set all to rights with a postscript. +‘Any one who questions the above statement is politely requested to call +on Mr. Considine, 16 Kildare Street, who will feel happy to afford him +every satisfaction upon Mr. O’Malley’s decease, or upon miscellaneous +matters.” + </p> +<p> +“Worse and worse,” said O’Malley. “Killing another man will never persuade +the world that I’m dead.” + </p> +<p> +“But we’ll wake you, and have a glorious funeral.” + </p> +<p> +“And if any man doubt the statement, I’ll call him out,” said the Count. +</p> +<p> +“Or, better still,” said Sir Harry, “O’Malley has his action at law for +defamation.” + </p> +<p> +“I see I’ll never get down to Galway at this rate,” said O’Malley; “and as +the new election takes place on Tuesday week, time presses. There are more +writs flying after me this instant than for all the government boroughs.” + </p> +<p> +“And there will be fewer returns, I fear,” said Sir Harry. +</p> +<p> +“Who is the chief creditor?” asked the Count. +</p> +<p> +“Old Stapleton, the attorney in Fleet Street, has most of the mortgages.” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing to be done with him in this way?” said Considine, balancing the +corkscrew like a hair trigger. +</p> +<p> +“No chance of it.” + </p> +<p> +“May be,” said Sir Harry, “he might come to terms if I were to call and +say, ‘You are anxious to close accounts, as your death has just taken +place.’ You know what I mean.” + </p> +<p> +“I fear so should he, were you to say so. No, no, Boyle, just try a plain, +straightforward paragraph about my death; we’ll have it in Falkner’s paper +to-morrow. On Friday the funeral can take place, and, with the blessing o’ +God, I’ll come to life on Saturday at Athlone, in time to canvass the +market.” + </p> +<p> +“I think it wouldn’t be bad if your ghost were to appear to old Timins the +tanner, in Naas, on your way down. You know he arrested you once before.” + </p> +<p> +“I prefer a night’s sleep,” said O’Malley. “But come, finish the squib for +the paper.” + </p> +<p> +“Stay a little,” said Sir Harry, musing; “it just strikes me that if ever +the matter gets out I may be in some confounded scrape. Who knows if it is +not a breach of privilege to report the death of a member? And to tell you +truth, I dread the Sergeant and the Speaker’s warrant with a very lively +fear.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, when did you make his acquaintance?” said the Count. +</p> +<p> +“Is it possible you never heard of Boyle’s committal?” said O’Malley. “You +surely must have been abroad at the time. But it’s not too late to tell it +yet.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, it’s about two years since old Townsend brought in his Enlistment +Bill, and the whole country was scoured for all our voters, who were +scattered here and there, never anticipating another call of the House, +and supposing that the session was just over. Among others, up came our +friend Harry, here, and the night he arrived they made him a ‘Monk of the +Screw,’ and very soon made him forget his senatorial dignities. On the +evening after his reaching town, the bill was brought in, and at two in +the morning the division took place,—a vote was of too much +consequence not to look after it closely,—and a Castle messenger was +in waiting in Exchequer Street, who, when the debate was closing, put +Harry, with three others, into a coach, and brought them down to the +House. Unfortunately, however, they mistook their friends, voted against +the bill, and amidst the loudest cheering of the opposition, the +government party were defeated. The rage of the ministers knew no bounds, +and looks of defiance and even threats were exchanged between the +ministers and the deserters. Amidst all this poor Harry fell fast asleep +and dreamed that he was once more in Exchequer Street, presiding among the +monks, and mixing another tumbler. At length he awoke and looked about +him. The clerk was just at the instant reading out, in his usual routine +manner, a clause of the new bill, and the remainder of the House was in +dead silence. Harry looked again around on every side, wondering where was +the hot water, and what had become of the whiskey bottle, and above all, +why the company were so extremely dull and ungenial. At length, with a +half-shake, he roused up a little, and giving a look of unequivocal +contempt on every side, called out, ‘Upon my soul, you’re pleasant +companions; but I’ll give you a chant to enliven you!’ So saying, he +cleared his throat with a couple of short coughs, and struck up, with the +voice of a Stentor, the following verse of a popular ballad:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘And they nibbled away, both night and day, +Like mice in a round of Glo’ster; +Great rogues they were all, both great and small, +From Flood to Leslie Foster. +Great rogues all. +</pre> +<p> +Chorus, boys!’ If he was not joined by the voices of his friends in the +song, it was probably because such a roar of laughing never was heard +since the walls were roofed over. The whole House rose in a mass, and my +friend Harry was hurried over the benches by the sergeant-at-arms, and +left for three weeks in Newgate to practise his melody.” + </p> +<p> +“All true,” said Sir Harry; “and worse luck to them for not liking music. +But come, now, will this do? ‘It is our melancholy duty to announce the +death of Godfrey O’Malley, Esq., late member for the county of Galway, +which took place on Friday evening, at Daly’s Club-House. This esteemed +gentleman’s family—one of the oldest in Ireland, and among whom it +was hereditary not to have any children—‘” + </p> +<p> +Here a burst of laughter from Considine and O’Malley interrupted the +reader, who with the greatest difficulty could be persuaded that he was +again bulling it. +</p> +<p> +“The devil fly away with it,” said he; “I’ll never succeed.” + </p> +<p> +“Never mind,” said O’Malley, “the first part will do admirably; and let us +now turn our attention to other matters.” + </p> +<p> +A fresh magnum was called for, and over its inspiring contents all the +details of the funeral were planned; and as the clock struck four the +party separated for the <i>night</i>, well satisfied with the result of +their labors. +</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 ESCAPE. +</p> +<p> +When the dissolution of Parliament was announced the following morning in +Dublin, its interest in certain circles was manifestly increased by the +fact that Godfrey O’Malley was at last open to arrest; for as in olden +times certain gifted individuals possessed some happy immunity against +death by fire or sword, so the worthy O’Malley seemed to enjoy a no less +valuable privilege, and for many a year had passed among the myrmidons of +the law as writ-proof. Now, however, the charm seemed to have yielded; and +pretty much with the same feeling as a storming party may be supposed to +experience on the day that a breach is reported as practicable, did the +honest attorneys retained in the various suits against him rally round +each other that morning in the Four Courts. +</p> +<p> +Bonds, mortgages, post-obits, promissory notes—in fact, every +imaginable species of invention for raising the O’Malley exchequer for the +preceding thirty years—were handed about on all sides, suggesting to +the mind of an uninterested observer the notion that had the aforesaid +O’Malley been an independent and absolute monarch, instead of merely being +the member for Galway, the kingdom over whose destinies he had been called +to preside would have suffered not a little from a depreciated currency +and an extravagant issue of paper. Be that as it might, one thing was +clear,—the whole estates of the family could not possibly pay one +fourth of the debt; and the only question was one which occasionally +arises at a scanty dinner on a mail-coach road,—who was to be the +lucky individual to carve the joint, where so many were sure to go off +hungry? +</p> +<p> +It was now a trial of address between these various and highly gifted +gentlemen who should first pounce upon the victim; and when the skill of +their caste is taken into consideration, who will doubt that every +feasible expedient for securing him was resorted to? While writs were +struck against him in Dublin, emissaries were despatched to the various +surrounding counties to procure others in the event of his escape. <i>Ne +exeats</i> were sworn, and water-bailiffs engaged to follow him on the +high seas; and as the great Nassau balloon did not exist in those days, no +imaginable mode of escape appeared possible, and bets were offered at long +odds that within twenty-four hours the late member would be enjoying his +<i>otium cum dignitate</i> in his Majesty’s jail of Newgate. +</p> +<p> +Expectation was at the highest, confidence hourly increasing, success all +but certain, when in the midst of all this high-bounding hope the dreadful +rumor spread that O’Malley was no more. One had seen it just five minutes +before in the evening edition of Falkner’s paper; another heard it in the +courts; a third overheard the Chief-Justice stating it to the Master of +the Rolls; and lastly, a breathless witness arrived from College Green +with the news that Daly’s Club-House was shut up, and the shutters closed. +To describe the consternation the intelligence caused on every side is +impossible; nothing in history equals it,—except, perhaps, the +entrance of the French army into Moscow, deserted and forsaken by its +former inhabitants. While terror and dismay, therefore, spread amidst that +wide and respectable body who formed O’Malley’s creditors, the +preparations for his funeral were going on with every rapidity. Relays of +horses were ordered at every stage of the journey, and it was announced +that, in testimony of his worth, a large party of his friends were to +accompany his remains to Portumna Abbey,—a test much more indicative +of resistance in the event of any attempt to arrest the body, than of +anything like reverence for their departed friend. +</p> +<p> +Such was the state of matters in Dublin when a letter reached me one +morning at O’Malley Castle, whose contents will at once explain the +writer’s intention, and also serve to introduce my unworthy self to my +reader. It ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +DALY’S, about eight in the evening. +Dear Charley,—Your uncle Godfrey, whose debts (God pardon +him!) are more numerous than the hairs of his wig, was obliged to +die here last night. We did the thing for him completely; and all +doubts as to the reality of the event are silenced by the +circumstantial detail of the newspaper, “that he was confined six +weeks to his bed from a cold he caught, ten days ago, while on guard.” + Repeat this; for it is better we had all the same story till he +comes to life again, which, may be, will not take place before +Tuesday or Wednesday. At the same time, canvass the county for him, +and say he’ll be with his friends next week, and up in Woodford and +the Scariff barony. Say he died a true Catholic; it will serve him on +the hustings. Meet us in Athlone on Saturday, and bring your uncle’s +mare with you. He says he’d rather ride home. And tell Father Mac +Shane, to have a bit of dinner ready about four o’clock, for the corpse +can get nothing after he leaves Mountmellick. No more now, from +Yours ever, +HARRY BOYLE + +To CHARLES O’MALLEY, Esq., +O’Malley Castle, Galway. +</pre> +<p> +When this not over-clear document reached me I was the sole inhabitant of +O’Malley Castle,—a very ruinous pile of incongruous masonry, that +stood in a wild and dreary part of the county of Galway, bordering on the +Shannon. On every side stretched the property of my uncle, or at least +what had once been so; and indeed, so numerous were its present claimants +that he would have been a subtle lawyer who could have pronounced upon the +rightful owner. The demesne around the castle contained some well-grown +and handsome timber, and as the soil was undulating and fertile, presented +many features of beauty; beyond it, all was sterile, bleak, and barren. +Long tracts of brown heath-clad mountain or not less unprofitable valleys +of tall and waving fern were all that the eye could discern, except where +the broad Shannon, expanding into a tranquil and glassy lake, lay still +and motionless beneath the dark mountains, a few islands, with some ruined +churches and a round tower, alone breaking the dreary waste of water. +</p> +<p> +Here it was that I passed my infancy and my youth; and here I now stood, +at the age of seventeen, quite unconscious that the world contained aught +fairer and brighter than that gloomy valley with its rugged frame of +mountains. +</p> +<p> +When a mere child, I was left an orphan to the care of my worthy uncle. My +father, whose extravagance had well sustained the family reputation, had +squandered a large and handsome property in contesting elections for his +native county, and in keeping up that system of unlimited hospitality for +which Ireland in general, and Galway more especially, was renowned. The +result was, as might be expected, ruin and beggary. He died, leaving every +one of his estates encumbered with heavy debts, and the only legacy he +left to his brother was a boy four years of age, entreating him with his +last breath, “Be anything you like to him, Godfrey, but a father, or at +least such a one as I have proved.” + </p> +<p> +Godfrey O’Malley some short time previous had lost his wife, and when this +new trust was committed to him he resolved never to remarry, but to rear +me up as his own child and the inheritor of his estates. How weighty and +onerous an obligation this latter might prove, the reader can form some +idea. The intention was, however, a kind one; and to do my uncle justice, +he loved me with all the affection of a warm and open heart. +</p> +<p> +From my earliest years his whole anxiety was to fit me for the part of a +country gentleman, as he regarded that character,—namely, I rode +boldly with fox-hounds; I was about the best shot within twenty miles of +us; I could swim the Shannon at Holy Island; I drove four-in-hand better +than the coachman himself; and from finding a hare to hooking a salmon, my +equal could not be found from Killaloe to Banagher. These were the staple +of my endowments. Besides which, the parish priest had taught me a little +Latin, a little French, a little geometry, and a great deal of the life +and opinions of Saint Jago, who presided over a holy well in the +neighborhood, and was held in very considerable repute. +</p> +<p> +When I add to this portraiture of my accomplishments that I was nearly six +feet high, with more than a common share of activity and strength for my +years, and no inconsiderable portion of good looks, I have finished my +sketch, and stand before my reader. +</p> +<p> +It is now time I should return to Sir Harry’s letter, which so completely +bewildered me that, but for the assistance of Father Roach, I should have +been totally unable to make out the writer’s intentions. By his advice, I +immediately set out for Athlone, where, when I arrived, I found my uncle +addressing the mob from the top of the hearse, and recounting his +miraculous escapes as a new claim upon their gratitude. +</p> +<p> +“There was nothing else for it, boys; the Dublin people insisted on my +being their member, and besieged the club-house. I refused; they +threatened. I grew obstinate; they furious. ‘I’ll die first,’ said I. +‘Galway or nothing!’” + </p> +<p> +“Hurrah!” from the mob. “O’Malley forever!” + </p> +<p> +“And ye see, I kept my word, boys,—I did die; I died that evening at +a quarter past eight. There, read it for yourselves; there’s the paper. +Was waked and carried out, and here I am after all, ready to die in +earnest for you, but never to desert you.” + </p> +<p> +The cheers here were deafening, and my uncle was carried through the +market down to the mayor’s house, who, being a friend of the opposite +party, was complimented with three groans; then up the Mall to the chapel, +beside which father Mac Shane resided. He was then suffered to touch the +earth once more; when, having shaken hands with all of his constituency +within reach, he entered the house, to partake of the kindest welcome and +best reception the good priest could afford him. +</p> +<p> +My uncle’s progress homeward was a triumph. The real secret of his escape +had somehow come out, and his popularity rose to a white heat. “An’ it’s +little O’Malley cares for the law,—bad luck to it; it’s himself can +laugh at judge and jury. Arrest him? Nabocklish! Catch a weasel asleep!” + etc. Such were the encomiums that greeted him as he passed on towards +home; while shouts of joy and blazing bonfires attested that his success +was regarded as a national triumph. +</p> +<p> +The west has certainly its strong features of identity. Had my uncle +possessed the claims of the immortal Howard; had he united in his person +all the attributes which confer a lasting and an ennobling fame upon +humanity,—he might have passed on unnoticed and unobserved; but for +the man that had duped a judge and escaped the sheriff, nothing was +sufficiently flattering to mark their approbation. The success of the +exploit was twofold; the news spread far and near, and the very story +canvassed the county better than Billy Davern himself, the Athlone +attorney. +</p> +<p> +This was the prospect now before us; and however little my readers may +sympathize with my taste, I must honestly avow that I looked forward to it +with a most delighted feeling. O’Malley Castle was to be the centre of +operations, and filled with my uncle’s supporters; while I, a mere +stripling, and usually treated as a boy, was to be intrusted with an +important mission, and sent off to canvass a distant relation, with whom +my uncle was not upon terms, and who might possibly be approachable by a +younger branch of the family, with whom he had never any collision. +</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> +MR. BLAKE. +</p> +<p> +Nothing but the exigency of the case could ever have persuaded my uncle to +stoop to the humiliation of canvassing the individual to whom I was now +about to proceed as envoy-extraordinary, with full powers to make any or +every <i>amende</i>, provided only his interest and that of his followers +should be thereby secured to the O’Malley cause. The evening before I set +out was devoted to giving me all the necessary instructions how I was to +proceed, and what difficulties I was to avoid. +</p> +<p> +“Say your uncle’s in high feather with the government party,” said Sir +Harry, “and that he only votes against them as a <i>ruse de guerre</i>, as +the French call it.” + </p> +<p> +“Insist upon it that I am sure of the election without him; but that for +family reasons he should not stand aloof from me; that people are talking +of it in the country.” + </p> +<p> +“And drop a hint,” said Considine, “that O’Malley is greatly improved in +his shooting.” + </p> +<p> +“And don’t get drunk too early in the evening, for Phil Blake has +beautiful claret,” said another. +</p> +<p> +“And be sure you don’t make love to the red-headed girls,” added a third; +“he has four of them, each more sinfully ugly than the other.” + </p> +<p> +“You’ll be playing whist, too,” said Boyle; “and never mind losing a few +pounds. Mrs. B., long life to her, has a playful way of turning the king.” + </p> +<p> +“Charley will do it all well,” said my uncle; “leave him alone. And now +let us have in the supper.” + </p> +<p> +It was only on the following morning, as the tandem came round to the +door, that I began to feel the importance of my mission, and certain +misgivings came over me as to my ability to fulfil it. Mr. Blake and his +family, though estranged from my uncle for several years past, had been +always most kind and good-natured to me; and although I could not, with +propriety, have cultivated any close intimacy with them, I had every +reason to suppose that they entertained towards me nothing but sentiments +of good-will. The head of the family was a Galway squire of the oldest and +most genuine stock, a great sportsman, a negligent farmer, and most +careless father; he looked upon a fox as an infinitely more precious part +of the creation than a French governess, and thought that riding well with +hounds was a far better gift than all the learning of a Parson. His +daughters were after his own heart,—the best-tempered, +least-educated, most high-spirited, gay, dashing, ugly girls in the +county, ready to ride over a four-foot paling without a saddle, and to +dance the “Wind that shakes the barley” for four consecutive hours, +against all the officers that their hard fate, and the Horse Guards, ever +condemned to Galway. +</p> +<p> +The mamma was only remarkable for her liking for whist, and her invariable +good fortune thereat,—a circumstance the world were agreed in +ascribing less to the blind goddess than her own natural endowments. +</p> +<p> +Lastly, the heir of the house was a stripling of about my own age, whose +accomplishments were limited to selling spavined and broken-winded horses +to the infantry officers, playing a safe game at billiards, and acting as +jackal-general to his sisters at balls, providing them with a sufficiency +of partners, and making a strong fight for a place at the supper-table for +his mother. These fraternal and filial traits, more honored at home than +abroad, had made Mr. Matthew Blake a rather well-known individual in the +neighborhood where he lived. +</p> +<p> +Though Mr. Blake’s property was ample, and strange to say for his county, +unencumbered, the whole air and appearance of his house and grounds +betrayed anything rather than a sufficiency of means. The gate lodge was a +miserable mud-hovel with a thatched and falling roof; the gate itself, a +wooden contrivance, one half of which was boarded and the other railed; +the avenue was covered with weeds, and deep with ruts; and the clumps of +young plantation, which had been planted and fenced with care, were now +open to the cattle, and either totally uprooted or denuded of their bark +and dying. The lawn, a handsome one of some forty acres, had been devoted +to an exercise-ground for training horses, and was cut up by their feet +beyond all semblance of its original destination; and the house itself, a +large and venerable structure of above a century old, displayed every +variety of contrivance, as well as the usual one of glass, to exclude the +weather. The hall-door hung by a single hinge, and required three persons +each morning and evening to open and shut it; the remainder of the day it +lay pensively open; the steps which led to it were broken and falling; and +the whole aspect of things without was ruinous in the extreme. Within, +matters were somewhat better, for though the furniture was old, and none +of it clean, yet an appearance of comfort was evident; and the large +grate, blazing with its pile of red-hot turf, the deep-cushioned chairs, +the old black mahogany dinner-table, and the soft carpet, albeit deep with +dust, were not to be despised on a winter’s evening, after a hard day’s +run with the “Blazers.” Here it was, however, that Mr. Philip Blake had +dispensed his hospitalities for above fifty years, and his father before +him; and here, with a retinue of servants as <i>gauches</i> and +ill-ordered as all about them, was he accustomed to invite all that the +county possessed of rank and wealth, among which the officers quartered in +his neighborhood were never neglected, the Miss Blakes having as decided a +taste for the army as any young ladies of the west of Ireland; and while +the Galway squire, with his cords and tops, was detailing the latest news +from Ballinasloe in one corner, the dandy from St. James’s Street might be +seen displaying more arts of seductive flattery in another than his most +accurate <i>insouciane</i> would permit him to practise in the elegant +salons of London or Paris, and the same man who would have “cut his +brother,” for a solecism of dress or equipage, in Bond Street, was now to +be seen quietly domesticated, eating family dinners, rolling silk for the +young ladies, going down the middle in a country dance, and even +descending to the indignity of long whist at “tenpenny” points, with only +the miserable consolation that the company were not honest. +</p> +<p> +It was upon a clear frosty morning, when a bright blue sky and a sharp but +bracing air seem to exercise upon the feelings a sense no less pleasurable +than the balmiest breeze and warmest sun of summer, that I whipped my +leader short round, and entered the precincts of “Gurt-na-Morra.” As I +proceeded along the avenue, I was struck by the slight traces of repairs +here and there evident,—a gate or two that formerly had been +parallel to the horizon had been raised to the perpendicular; some +ineffectual efforts at paint were also perceptible upon the palings; and, +in short, everything seemed to have undergone a kind of attempt at +improvement. +</p> +<p> +When I reached the door, instead of being surrounded, as of old, by a +tribe of menials frieze-coated, bare-headed, and bare-legged, my presence +was announced by a tremendous ringing of bells from the hands of an old +functionary in a very formidable livery, who peeped at me through the +hall-window, and whom, with the greatest difficulty, I recognized as my +quondam acquaintance, the butler. His wig alone would have graced a king’s +counsel; and the high collar of his coat, and the stiff pillory of his +cravat denoted an eternal adieu to so humble a vocation as drawing a cork. +Before I had time for any conjecture as to the altered circumstances +about, the activity of my friend at the bell had surrounded me with “four +others worse than himself,” at least they were exactly similarly attired; +and probably from the novelty of their costume, and the restraints of so +unusual a thing as dress, were as perfectly unable to assist themselves or +others as the Court of Aldermen would be were they to rig out in plate +armor of the fourteenth century. How much longer I might have gone on +conjecturing the reasons for the masquerade around, I cannot say; but my +servant, an Irish disciple of my uncle’s, whispered in my ear, “It’s a +red-breeches day, Master Charles,—they’ll have the hoith of company +in the house.” From the phrase, it needed little explanation to inform me +that it was one of those occasions on which Mr. Blake attired all the +hangers-on of his house in livery, and that great preparations were in +progress for a more than usually splendid reception. +</p> +<p> +In the next moment I was ushered into the breakfast-room, where a party of +above a dozen persons were most gayly enjoying all the good cheer for +which the house had a well-deserved repute. After the usual shaking of +hands and hearty greetings were over, I was introduced in all form to Sir +George Dashwood, a tall and singularly handsome man of about fifty, with +an undress military frock and ribbon. His reception of me was somewhat +strange; for as they mentioned my relationship to Godfrey O’Malley, he +smiled slightly, and whispered something to Mr. Blake, who replied, “Oh, +no, no; not the least. A mere boy; and besides—” What he added I +lost, for at that moment Nora Blake was presenting me to Miss Dashwood. +</p> +<p> +If the sweetest blue eyes that ever beamed beneath a forehead of snowy +whiteness, over which dark brown and waving hair fell less in curls than +masses of locky richness, could only have known what wild work they were +making of my poor heart, Miss Dashwood, I trust, would have looked at her +teacup or her muffin rather than at me, as she actually did on that fatal +morning. If I were to judge from her costume, she had only just arrived, +and the morning air had left upon her cheek a bloom that contributed +greatly to the effect of her lovely countenance. Although very young, her +form had all the roundness of womanhood; while her gay and sprightly +manner indicated all the <i>sans gêne</i> which only very young girls +possess, and which, when tempered with perfect good taste, and accompanied +by beauty and no small share of talent, forms an irresistible power of +attraction. +</p> +<p> +Beside her sat a tall, handsome man of about five-and-thirty or perhaps +forty years of age, with a most soldierly air, who as I was presented to +him scarcely turned his head, and gave me a half-nod of very unequivocal +coldness. There are moments in life in which the heart is, as it were, +laid bare to any chance or casual impression with a wondrous sensibility +of pleasure or its opposite. This to me was one of those; and as I turned +from the lovely girl, who had received me with a marked courtesy, to the +cold air and repelling <i>hauteur</i> of the dark-browed captain, the +blood rushed throbbing to my forehead; and as I walked to my place at the +table, I eagerly sought his eye, to return him a look of defiance and +disdain, proud and contemptuous as his own. Captain Hammersley, however, +never took further notice of me, but continued to recount, for the +amusement of those about him, several excellent stories of his military +career, which, I confess, were heard with every test of delight by all +save me. One thing galled me particularly,—and how easy is it, when +you have begun by disliking a person, to supply food for your antipathy,—all +his allusions to his military life were coupled with half-hinted and +ill-concealed sneers at civilians of every kind, as though every man not a +soldier were absolutely unfit for common intercourse with the world, still +more for any favorable reception in ladies’ society. +</p> +<p> +The young ladies of the family were a well-chosen auditory, for their +admiration of the army extended from the Life Guards to the Veteran +Battalion, the Sappers and Miners included; and as Miss Dashwood was the +daughter of a soldier, she of course coincided in many of, if not all, his +opinions. I turned towards my neighbor, a Clare gentleman, and tried to +engage him in conversation, but he was breathlessly attending to the +captain. On my left sat Matthew Blake, whose eyes were firmly riveted upon +the same person, and who heard his marvels with an interest scarcely +inferior to that of his sisters. Annoyed and in ill-temper, I ate my +breakfast in silence, and resolved that the first moment I could obtain a +hearing from Mr. Blake I would open my negotiation, and take my leave at +once of Gurt-na-Morra. +</p> +<p> +We all assembled in a large room, called by courtesy the library, when +breakfast was over; and then it was that Mr. Blake, taking me aside, +whispered, “Charley, it’s right I should inform you that Sir George +Dashwood there is the Commander of the Forces, and is come down here at +this moment to—” What for, or how it should concern me, I was not to +learn; for at that critical instant my informant’s attention was called +off by Captain Hammersley asking if the hounds were to hunt that day. +</p> +<p> +“My friend Charley here is the best authority upon that matter,” said Mr. +Blake, turning towards me. +</p> +<p> +“They are to try the Priest’s meadows,” said I, with an air of some +importance; “but if your guests desire a day’s sport, I’ll send word over +to Brackely to bring the dogs over here, and we are sure to find a fox in +your cover.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, then, by all means,” said the captain, turning towards Mr. Blake, and +addressing himself to him,—“by all means; and Miss Dashwood, I’m +sure, would like to see the hounds throw off.” + </p> +<p> +Whatever chagrin the first part of his speech caused me, the latter set my +heart a-throbbing; and I hastened from the room to despatch a messenger to +the huntsman to come over to Gurt-na-Morra, and also another to O’Malley +Castle to bring my best horse and my riding equipments as quickly as +possible. +</p> +<p> +“Matthew, who is this captain?” said I, as young Blake met me in the hall. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he is the aide-de-camp of General Dashwood. A nice fellow, isn’t he?” + </p> +<p> +“I don’t know what you may think,” said I, “but I take him for the most +impertinent, impudent, supercilious—” + </p> +<p> +The rest of my civil speech was cut short by the appearance of the very +individual in question, who, with his hands in his pockets and a cigar in +his mouth, sauntered forth down the steps, taking no more notice of +Matthew Blake and myself than the two fox-terriers that followed at his +heels. +</p> +<p> +However anxious I might be to open negotiations on the subject of my +mission, for the present the thing was impossible; for I found that Sir +George Dashwood was closeted closely with Mr. Blake, and resolved to wait +till evening, when chance might afford me the opportunity I desired. +</p> +<p> +As the ladies had retired to dress for the hunt, and as I felt no peculiar +desire to ally myself with the unsocial captain, I accompanied Matthew to +the stable to look after the cattle, and make preparations for the coming +sport. +</p> +<p> +“There’s Captain Hammersley’s mare,” said Matthew, as he pointed out a +highly bred but powerful English hunter. “She came last night; for as he +expected some sport, he sent his horses from Dublin on purpose. The others +will be here to-day.” + </p> +<p> +“What is his regiment?” said I, with an appearance of carelessness, but in +reality feeling curious to know if the captain was a cavalry or infantry +officer. +</p> +<p> +“The —th Light Dragoons,” + </p> +<p> +“You never saw him ride?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Never; but his groom there says he leads the way in his own country.” + </p> +<p> +“And where may that be?” + </p> +<p> +“In Leicestershire, no less,” said Matthew. +</p> +<p> +“Does he know Galway?” + </p> +<p> +“Never was in it before. It’s only this minute he asked Moses Daly if the +ox-fences were high here.” + </p> +<p> +“Ox-fences! Then he does not know what a wall is?” + </p> +<p> +“Devil a bit; but we’ll teach him.” + </p> +<p> +“That we will,” said I, with as bitter a resolution to impart the +instruction as ever schoolmaster did to whip Latin grammar into one of the +great unbreeched. +</p> +<p> +“But I had better send the horses down to the Mill,” said Matthew; “we’ll +draw that cover first.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, he turned towards the stable, while I sauntered alone towards +the road by which I expected the huntsman. I had not walked half a mile +before I heard the yelping of the dogs, and a little farther on I saw old +Brackely coming along at a brisk trot, cutting the hounds on each side, +and calling after the stragglers. +</p> +<p> +“Did you see my horse on the road, Brackely?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“I did, Misther Charles; and troth, I’m sorry to see him. Sure yerself +knows better than to take out the Badger, the best steeple-chaser in +Ireland, in such a country as this,—nothing but awkward +stone-fences, and not a foot of sure ground in the whole of it.” + </p> +<p> +“I know it well, Brackely; but I have my reasons for it.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, may be you have; what cover will your honor try first?” + </p> +<p> +“They talk of the Mill,” said I; “but I’d much rather try Morran-a-Gowl.” + </p> +<p> +“Morran-a-Gowl! Do you want to break your neck entirely?” + </p> +<p> +“No, Brackely, not mine.” + </p> +<p> +“Whose, then, alannah?” + </p> +<p> +“An English captain’s, the devil fly away with him! He’s come down here +to-day, and from all I can see is a most impudent fellow; so, Brackely—” + </p> +<p> +“I understand. Well, leave it to me; and though I don’t like the only +deer-park wall on the hill, we’ll try it this morning with the blessing. +I’ll take him down by Woodford, over the Devil’s Mouth,—it’s +eighteen foot wide this minute with the late rains,—into the four +callows; then over the stone-walls, down to Dangan; then take a short cast +up the hill, blow him a bit, and give him the park wall at the top. You +must come in then fresh, and give him the whole run home over Sleibhmich. +The Badger knows it all, and takes the road always in a fly,—a +mighty distressing thing for the horse that follows, more particularly if +he does not understand a stony country. Well, if he lives through this, +give him the sunk fence and the stone wall at Mr. Blake’s clover-field, +for the hounds will run into the fox about there; and though we never ride +that leap since Mr. Malone broke his neck at it, last October, yet upon an +occasion like this, and for the honor of Galway—” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure, Brackely; and here’s a guinea for you, and now trot on +towards the house. They must not see us together, or they might suspect +something. But, Brackely,” said I, calling out after him, “if he rides at +all fair, what’s to be done?” + </p> +<p> +“Troth, then, myself doesn’t know. There is nothing so bad west of +Athlone. Have ye a great spite again him?” + </p> +<p> +“I have,” said I, fiercely. +</p> +<p> +“Could ye coax a fight out of him?” + </p> +<p> +“That’s true,” said I; “and now ride on as fast as you can.” + </p> +<p> +Brackely’s last words imparted a lightness to my heart and my step, and I +strode along a very different man from what I had left the house half an +hour previously. +</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 HUNT. +</p> +<p> +Although we had not the advantages of a southerly wind and cloudy sky, the +day towards noon became strongly over-cast, and promised to afford us good +scenting weather; and as we assembled at the meet, mutual congratulations +were exchanged upon the improved appearance of the day. Young Blake had +provided Miss Dashwood with a quiet and well-trained horse, and his +sisters were all mounted as usual upon their own animals, giving to our +turnout quite a gay and lively aspect. I myself came to cover upon a +hackney, having sent Badger with a groom, and longed ardently for the +moment when, casting the skin of my great-coat and overalls, I should +appear before the world in my well-appointed “cords and tops.” Captain +Hammersley had not as yet made his appearance, and many conjectures were +afloat as to whether “he might have missed the road, or changed his mind,” + or “forgot all about it,” as Miss Dashwood hinted. +</p> +<p> +“Who, pray, pitched upon this cover?” said Caroline Blake, as she looked +with a practised eye over the country on either side. +</p> +<p> +“There is no chance of a fox late in the day at the Mill,” said the +huntsman, inventing a lie for the occasion. +</p> +<p> +“Then of course you never intend us to see much of the sport; for after +you break cover, you are entirely lost to us.” + </p> +<p> +“I thought you always followed the hounds,” said Miss Dashwood, timidly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, to be sure we do, in any common country, but here it is out of the +question; the fences are too large for any one, and if I am not mistaken, +these gentlemen will not ride far over this. There, look yonder, where the +river is rushing down the hill: that stream, widening as it advances, +crosses the cover nearly midway,—well, they must clear that; and +then you may see these walls of large loose stones nearly five feet in +height. That is the usual course the fox takes, unless he heads towards +the hills and goes towards Dangan, and then there’s an end of it; for the +deer-park wall is usually a pull up to every one except, perhaps, to our +friend Charley yonder, who has tried his fortune against drowning more +than once there.” + </p> +<p> +“Look, here he comes,” said Matthew Blake, “and looking splendidly too,—a +little too much in flesh perhaps, if anything.” + </p> +<p> +“Captain Hammersley!” said the four Miss Blakes, in a breath. “Where is +he?” + </p> +<p> +“No; it’s the Badger I’m speaking of,” said Matthew, laughing, and +pointing with his finger towards a corner of the field where my servant +was leisurely throwing down a wall about two feet high to let him pass. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, how handsome! What a charger for a dragoon!” said Miss Dashwood. +</p> +<p> +Any other mode of praising my steed would have been much more acceptable. +The word “dragoon” was a thorn in my tenderest part that rankled and +lacerated at every stir. In a moment I was in the saddle, and scarcely +seated when at once all the <i>mauvais honte</i> of boyhood left me, and I +felt every inch a man. I often look back to that moment of my life, and +comparing it with similar ones, cannot help acknowledging how purely is +the self-possession which so often wins success the result of some slight +and trivial association. My confidence in my horsemanship suggested moral +courage of a very different kind; and I felt that Charles O’Malley +curvetting upon a thorough-bred, and the same man ambling upon a shelty, +were two and very dissimilar individuals. +</p> +<p> +“No chance of the captain,” said Matthew, who had returned from a <i>reconnaissance</i> +upon the road; “and after all it’s a pity, for the day is getting quite +favorable.” + </p> +<p> +While the young ladies formed pickets to look out for the gallant <i>militaire</i>, +I seized the opportunity of prosecuting my acquaintance with Miss +Dashwood, and even in the few and passing observations that fell from her, +learned how very different an order of being she was from all I had +hitherto seen of country belles. A mixture of courtesy with <i>naïveté;</i> +a wish to please, with a certain feminine gentleness, that always flatters +a man, and still more a boy that fain would be one,—gained +momentarily more and more upon me, and put me also on my mettle to prove +to my fair companion that I was not altogether a mere uncultivated and +unthinking creature, like the remainder of those about me. +</p> +<p> +“Here he is at last,” said Helen Blake, as she cantered across a field +waving her handkerchief as a signal to the captain, who was now seen +approaching at a brisk trot. +</p> +<p> +As he came along, a small fence intervened; he pressed his horse a little, +and as he kissed hands to the fair Helen, cleared it in a bound, and was +in an instant in the midst of us. +</p> +<p> +“He sits his horse like a man, Misther Charles,” said the old huntsman; +“troth, we must give him the worst bit of it.” + </p> +<p> +Captain Hammersley was, despite all the critical acumen with which I +canvassed him, the very beau-ideal of a gentleman rider; indeed, although +a very heavy man, his powerful English thorough-bred, showing not less +bone than blood, took away all semblance of overweight; his saddle was +well fitting and well placed, as also was his large and broad-reined +snaffle; his own costume of black coat, leathers, and tops was in perfect +keeping, and even to his heavy-handled hunting-whip I could find nothing +to cavil at. As he rode up he paid his respects to the ladies in his usual +free and easy manner, expressed some surprise, but no regret, at hearing +that he was late, and never deigning any notice of Matthew or myself, took +his place beside Miss Dashwood, with whom he conversed in a low undertone. +</p> +<p> +“There they go!” said Matthew, as five or six dogs, with their heads up, +ran yelping along a furrow, then stopped, howled again, and once more set +off together. In an instant all was commotion in the little valley below +us. The huntsman, with his hand to his mouth, was calling off the +stragglers, and the whipper-in followed up the leading dogs with the rest +of the pack. “They’ve found! They’re away!” said Matthew; and as he spoke +a yell burst from the valley, and in an instant the whole pack were off at +full speed. Rather more intent that moment upon showing off my +horsemanship than anything else, I dashed spurs into Badger’s sides, and +turned him towards a rasping ditch before me; over we went, hurling down +behind us a rotten bank of clay and small stones, showing how little +safety there had been in topping instead of clearing it at a bound. Before +I was well-seated again the captain was beside me. “Now for it, then,” + said I; and away we went. What might be the nature of his feelings I +cannot pretend to state, but my own were a strange <i>mélange</i> of wild, +boyish enthusiasm, revenge, and recklessness. For my own neck I cared +little,—nothing; and as I led the way by half a length, I muttered +to myself, “Let him follow me fairly this day, and I ask no more.” + </p> +<p> +The dogs had got somewhat the start of us; and as they were in full cry, +and going fast, we were a little behind. A thought therefore struck me +that, by appearing to take a short cut upon the hounds, I should come down +upon the river where its breadth was greatest, and thus, at one coup, +might try my friend’s mettle and his horse’s performance at the same time. +On we went, our speed increasing, till the roar of the river we were now +approaching was plainly audible. I looked half around, and now perceived +the captain was standing in his stirrups, as if to obtain a view of what +was before him; otherwise his countenance was calm and unmoved, and not a +muscle betrayed that he was not cantering on a parade. I fixed myself +firmly in my seat, shook my horse a little together, and with a shout +whose import every Galway hunter well knows rushed him at the river. I saw +the water dashing among the large stones; I heard it splash; I felt a +bound like the <i>ricochet</i> of a shot; and we were over, but so +narrowly that the bank had yielded beneath his hind legs, and it needed a +bold effort of the noble animal to regain his footing. Scarcely was he +once more firm, when Hammersley flew by me, taking the lead, and sitting +quietly in his saddle, as if racing. I know of little in my after-life +like the agony of that moment; for although I was far, very far, from +wishing real ill to him, yet I would gladly have broken my leg or my arm +if he could not have been able to follow me. And now, there he was, +actually a length and a half in advance! and worse than all, Miss Dashwood +must have witnessed the whole, and doubtless his leap over the river was +better and bolder than mine. One consolation yet remained, and while I +whispered it to myself I felt comforted again. “His is an English mare. +They understand these leaps; but what can he make of a Galway wall?” The +question was soon to be solved. Before us, about three fields, were the +hounds still in full cry; a large stone-wall lay between, and to it we +both directed our course together. “Ha!” thought I, “he is floored at +last,” as I perceived that the captain held his course rather more in +hand, and suffered me to lead. “Now, then, for it!” So saying, I rode at +the largest part I could find, well knowing that Badger’s powers were here +in their element. One spring, one plunge, and away we were, galloping +along at the other side. Not so the captain; his horse had refused the +fence, and he was now taking a circuit of the field for another trial of +it. +</p> +<p> +“Pounded, by Jove!” said I, as I turned round in my saddle to observe him. +Once more she came at it, and once more balked, rearing up, at the same +time, almost so as to fall backward. +</p> +<p> +My triumph was complete; and I again was about to follow the hounds, when, +throwing a look back, I saw Hammersley clearing the wall in a most +splendid manner, and taking a stretch of at least thirteen feet beyond it. +Once more he was on my flanks, and the contest renewed. Whatever might be +the sentiments of the riders (mine I confess to), between the horses it +now became a tremendous struggle. The English mare, though evidently +superior in stride and strength, was slightly overweighted, and had not, +besides, that cat-like activity an Irish horse possesses; so that the +advantages and disadvantages on either side were about equalized. For +about half an hour now the pace was awful. We rode side by side, taking +our leaps at exactly the same instant, and not four feet apart. The hounds +were still considerably in advance, and were heading towards the Shannon, +when suddenly the fox doubled, took the hillside, and made for Dangan. +“Now, then, comes the trial of strength,” I said, half aloud, as I threw +my eye up a steep and rugged mountain, covered with wild furze and tall +heath, around the crest of which ran, in a zigzag direction, a broken and +dilapidated wall, once the enclosure of a deer park. This wall, which +varied from four to six feet in height, was of solid masonry, and would, +in the most favorable ground, have been a bold leap. Here, at the summit +of a mountain, with not a yard of footing, it was absolutely desperation. +</p> +<p> +By the time that we reached the foot of the hill, the fox, followed +closely by the hounds, had passed through a breach in the wall; while +Matthew Blake, with the huntsmen and whipper-in, was riding along in +search of a gap to lead the horses through. Before I put spurs to Badger +to face the hill, I turned one look towards Hammersley. There was a slight +curl, half-smile, half-sneer, upon his lip that actually maddened me, and +had a precipice yawned beneath my feet, I should have dashed at it after +that. The ascent was so steep that I was obliged to take the hill in a +slanting direction; and even thus, the loose footing rendered it dangerous +in the extreme. +</p> +<p> +At length I reached the crest, where the wall, more than five feet in +height, stood frowning above and seeming to defy me. I turned my horse +full round, so that his very chest almost touched the stones, and with a +bold cut of the whip and a loud halloo, the gallant animal rose, as if +rearing, pawed for an instant to regain his balance, and then, with a +frightful struggle, fell backwards, and rolled from top to bottom of the +hill, carrying me along with him; the last object that crossed my sight, +as I lay bruised and motionless, being the captain as he took the wall in +a flying leap, and disappeared at the other side. After a few scrambling +efforts to rise, Badger regained his legs and stood beside me; but such +was the shock and concussion of my fall that all the objects around seemed +wavering and floating before me, while showers of bright sparks fell in +myriads before my eyes. I tried to rise, but fell back helpless. Cold +perspiration broke over my forehead, and I fainted. From that moment I can +remember nothing, till I felt myself galloping along at full speed upon a +level table-land, with the hounds about three fields in advance, +Hammersley riding foremost, and taking all his leaps coolly as ever. As I +swayed to either side upon my saddle, from weakness, I was lost to all +thought or recollection, save a flickering memory of some plan of +vengeance, which still urged me forward. The chase had now lasted above an +hour, and both hounds and horses began to feel the pace at which they were +going. As for me, I rode mechanically; I neither knew nor cared for the +dangers before me. My eye rested on but one object; my whole being was +concentrated upon one vague and undefined sense of revenge. At this +instant the huntsman came alongside of me. +</p> +<p> +“Are you hurted, Misther Charles? Did you fall? Your cheek is all blood, +and your coat is torn in two; and, Mother o’ God! his boot is ground to +powder; he does not hear me! Oh, pull up! pull up, for the love of the +Virgin! There’s the clover-field and the sunk fence before you, and you’ll +be killed on the spot!” + </p> +<p> +“Where?” cried I, with the cry of a madman. “Where’s the clover-field; +where’s the sunk fence? Ha! I see it; I see it now.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, I dashed the rowels into my horse’s flanks, and in an instant +was beyond the reach of the poor fellow’s remonstances. Another moment I +was beside the captain. He turned round as I came up; the same smile was +upon his mouth; I could have struck him. About three hundred yards before +us lay the sunk fence; its breadth was about twenty feet, and a wall of +close brickwork formed its face. Over this the hounds were now clambering; +some succeeded in crossing, but by far the greater number fell back, +howling, into the ditch. +</p> +<p> +I turned towards Hammersley. He was standing high in his stirrups, and as +he looked towards the yawning fence, down which the dogs were tumbling in +masses, I thought (perhaps it was but a thought) that his cheek was paler. +I looked again; he was pulling at his horse. Ha! it was true then; he +would not face it. I turned round in my saddle, looked him full in the +face, and as I pointed with my whip to the leap, called out in a voice +hoarse with passion, “Come on!” I saw no more. All objects were lost to me +from that moment. When next my senses cleared, I was standing amidst the +dogs, where they had just killed. Badger stood blown and trembling beside +me, his head drooping and his flanks gored with spur-marks. I looked +about, but all consciousness of the past had fled; the concussion of my +fall had shaken my intellect, and I was like one but half-awake. One +glimpse, short and fleeting, of what was taking place shot through my +brain, as old Brackely whispered to me, “By my soul, ye did for the +captain there.” I turned a vague look upon him, and my eyes fell upon the +figure of a man that lay stretched and bleeding upon a door before me. His +pale face was crossed with a purple stream of blood that trickled from a +wound beside his eyebrow; his arms lay motionless and heavily at either +side. I knew him not. A loud report of a pistol aroused me from my stupor; +I looked back. I saw a crowd that broke suddenly asunder and fled right +and left. I heard a heavy crash upon the ground; I pointed with my finger, +for I could not utter a word. +</p> +<p> +“It is the English mare, yer honor; she was a beauty this morning, but +she’s broke her shoulder-bone and both her legs, and it was best to put +her out of pain.” + </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 DRAWING-ROOM. +</p> +<p> +On the fourth day following the adventure detailed in the last chapter, I +made my appearance in the drawing-room, my cheek well blanched by copious +bleeding, and my step tottering and uncertain. On entering the room, I +looked about in vain for some one who might give me an insight into the +occurrences of the four preceding days; but no one was to be met with. The +ladies, I learned, were out riding; Matthew was buying a new setter, Mr. +Blake was canvassing, and Captain Hammersley was in bed. Where was Miss +Dashwood?—in her room; and Sir George?—he was with Mr. Blake. +</p> +<p> +“What! Canvassing, too?” + </p> +<p> +“Troth, that same was possible,” was the intelligent reply of the old +butler, at which I could not help smiling. I sat down, therefore, in the +easiest chair I could find, and unfolding the county paper, resolved upon +learning how matters were going on in the political world. But somehow, +whether the editor was not brilliant or the fire was hot or that my own +dreams were pleasanter to indulge in than his fancies, I fell sound +asleep. +</p> +<p> +How differently is the mind attuned to the active, busy world of thought +and action when awakened from sleep by any sudden and rude summons to +arise and be stirring, and when called into existence by the sweet and +silvery notes of softest music stealing over the senses, and while they +impart awakening thoughts of bliss and beauty, scarcely dissipating the +dreamy influence of slumber! Such was my first thought, as, with closed +lids, the thrilling chords of a harp broke upon my sleep and aroused me to +a feeling of unutterable pleasure. I turned gently round in my chair and +beheld Miss Dashwood. She was seated in a recess of an old-fashioned +window; the pale yellow glow of a wintry sun at evening fell upon her +beautiful hair, and tinged it with such a light as I have often since then +seen in Rembrandt’s pictures; her head leaned upon the harp, and as she +struck its chords at random, I saw that her mind was far away from all +around her. As I looked, she suddenly started from her leaning attitude, +and parting back her curls from her brow, she preluded a few chords, and +then sighed forth, rather than sang, that most beautiful of Moore’s +melodies,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps.” + </pre> +<p> +Never before had such pathos, such deep utterance of feeling, met my +astonished sense; I listened breathlessly as the tears fell one by one +down my cheek; my bosom heaved and fell; and when she ceased, I hid my +head between my hands and sobbed aloud. In an instant, she was beside me, +and placing her hand upon my shoulder, said,— +</p> +<p> +“Poor dear boy, I never suspected you of being there, or I should not have +sung that mournful air.” + </p> +<p> +I started and looked up; and from what I know not, but she suddenly +crimsoned to her very forehead, while she added in a less assured tone,— +</p> +<p> +“I hope, Mr. O’Malley, that you are much better; and I trust there is no +imprudence in your being here.” + </p> +<p> +“For the latter, I shall not answer,” said I, with a sickly smile; “but +already I feel your music has done me service.” + </p> +<p> +“Then let me sing more for you.” + </p> +<p> +“If I am to have a choice, I should say, Sit down, and let me hear you +talk to me. My illness and the doctor together have made wild work of my +poor brain; but if you will talk to me—” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, what shall it be about? Shall I tell you a fairy tale?” + </p> +<p> +“I need it not; I feel I am in one this instant.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, what say you to a legend; for I am rich in my stores of +them?” + </p> +<p> +“The O’Malleys have their chronicles, wild and barbarous enough without +the aid of Thor and Woden.” + </p> +<p> +“Then, shall we chat of every-day matters? Should you like to hear how the +election and the canvass go on?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; of all things.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, most favorably. Two baronies, with most unspeakable names, +have declared for us, and confidence is rapidly increasing among our +party. This I learned, by chance, yesterday; for papa never permits us to +know anything of these matters,—not even the names of the +candidates.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, that was the very point I was coming to; for the government were +about to send down some one just as I left home, and I am most anxious to +learn who it is.” + </p> +<p> +“Then am I utterly valueless; for I really can’t say what party the +government espouses, and only know of our own.” + </p> +<p> +“Quite enough for me that you wish it success,” said I, gallantly. +“Perhaps you can tell me if my uncle has heard of my accident?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, yes; but somehow he has not been here himself, but sent a friend,—a +Mr. Considine, I think; a very strange person he seemed. He demanded to +see papa, and it seems, asked him if your misfortune had been a thing of +his contrivance, and whether he was ready to explain his conduct about it; +and, in fact, I believe he is mad.” + </p> +<p> +“Heaven confound him!” I muttered between my teeth. +</p> +<p> +“And then he wished to have an interview with Captain Hammersley. However, +he is too ill; but as the doctor hoped he might be down-stairs in a week, +Mr. Considine kindly hinted that he should wait.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, then, do tell me how is the captain.” + </p> +<p> +“Very much bruised, very much disfigured, they say,” said she, half +smiling; “but not so much hurt in body as in mind.” + </p> +<p> +“As how, may I ask?” said I, with an appearance of innocence. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t exactly understand it; but it would appear that there was +something like rivalry among you gentlemen <i>chasseurs</i> on that +luckless morning, and that while you paid the penalty of a broken head, he +was destined to lose his horse and break his arm.” + </p> +<p> +“I certainly am sorry,—most sincerely sorry for any share I might +have had in the catastrophe; and my greatest regret, I confess, arises +from the fact that I should cause <i>you</i> unhappiness.” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Me</i>? Pray explain.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, as Captain Hammersley—” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley, you are too young now to make me suspect you have an +intention to offend; but I caution you, never repeat this.” + </p> +<p> +I saw that I had transgressed, but how, I most honestly confess, I could +not guess; for though I certainly was the senior of my fair companion in +years, I was most lamentably her junior in tact and discretion. +</p> +<p> +The gray dusk of evening had long fallen as we continued to chat together +beside the blazing wood embers,—she evidently amusing herself with +the original notions of an untutored, unlettered boy, and I drinking deep +those draughts of love that nerved my heart through many a breach and +battlefield. +</p> +<p> +Our colloquy was at length interrupted by the entrance of Sir George, who +shook me most cordially by the hand, and made the kindest inquiries about +my health. +</p> +<p> +“They tell me you are to be a lawyer. Mr. O’Malley,” said he; “and if so, +I must advise you to take better care of your headpiece.” + </p> +<p> +“A lawyer, Papa; oh dear me! I should never have thought of his being +anything so stupid.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, silly girl, what would you have a man be?” + </p> +<p> +“A dragoon, to be sure, Papa,” said the fond girl, as she pressed her arm +around his manly figure, and looked up in his face with an expression of +mingled pride and affection. +</p> +<p> +That word sealed my destiny. +</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 DINNER. +</p> +<p> +When I retired to my room to dress for dinner, I found my servant waiting +with a note from my uncle, to which, he informed me, the messenger +expected an answer. +</p> +<p> +I broke the seal and read:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +DEAR CHARLEY,—Do not lose a moment in securing old Blake,—if +you have not already done so,—as information has just reached +me that the government party has promised a cornetcy to young +Matthew if he can bring over his father. And these are the people +I have been voting with—a few private cases excepted—for thirty +odd years! + +I am very sorry for your accident. Considine informs me that it +will need explanation at a later period. He has been in Athlone +since Tuesday, in hopes to catch the new candidate on his way down, +and get him into a little private quarrel before the day; if he +succeeds, it will save the county much expense, and conduce greatly to +the peace and happiness of all parties. But “these things,” as Father +Roach says, “are in the hands of Providence.” You must also persuade +old Blake to write a few lines to Simon Mallock, about the +Coolnamuck mortgage. We can give him no satisfaction at present, +at least such as he looks for; and don’t be philandering any longer +where you are, when your health permits a change of quarters. + +Your affectionate uncle, +GODFREY O’MALLEY. + +P.S. I have just heard from Considine. He was out this morning +and shot a fellow in the knee; but finds that after all he was +not the candidate, but a tourist that was writing a book about +Connemara. + +P.S. No. 2. Bear the mortgage in mind, for old Mallock is a +spiteful fellow, and has a grudge against me, since I horsewhipped +his son in Banagher. Oh, the world, the world! G. O’M. +</pre> +<p> +Until I read this very clear epistle to the end, I had no very precise +conception how completely I had forgotten all my uncle’s interests, and +neglected all his injunctions. Already five days had elapsed, and I had +not as much as mooted the question to Mr. Blake, and probably all this +time my uncle was calculating on the thing as concluded; but, with one +hole in my head and some half-dozen in my heart, my memory was none of the +best. +</p> +<p> +Snatching up the letter, therefore, I resolved to lose no more time, and +proceeded at once to Mr. Blake’s room, expecting that I should, as the +event proved, find him engaged in the very laborious duty of making his +toilet. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0055.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Mr. Blake’s Dressing Room. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Come in, Charley,” said he, as I tapped gently at the door. “It’s only +Charley, my darling. Mrs. B. won’t mind you.” + </p> +<p> +“Not the least in life,” responded Mrs. B., disposing at the same time a +pair of her husband’s corduroys tippet fashion across her ample shoulders, +which before were displayed in the plenitude and breadth of coloring we +find in a Rubens. “Sit down, Charley, and tell us what’s the matter.” + </p> +<p> +As until this moment I was in perfect ignorance of the Adam-and-Eve-like +simplicity in which the private economy of Mr. Blake’s household was +conducted, I would have gladly retired from what I found to be a mutual +territory of dressing-room had not Mr. Blake’s injunctions been issued +somewhat like an order to remain. +</p> +<p> +“It’s only a letter, sir,” said I, stuttering, “from my uncle about the +election. He says that as his majority is now certain, he should feel +better pleased in going to the poll with all the family, you know, sir, +along with him. He wishes me just to sound your intentions,—to make +out how you feel disposed towards him; and—and, faith, as I am but a +poor diplomatist, I thought the best way was to come straight to the point +and tell you so.” + </p> +<p> +“I perceive,” said Mr. Blake, giving his chin at the moment an awful gash +with the razor,—“I perceive; go on.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir, I have little more to say. My uncle knows what influence you +have in Scariff, and expects you’ll do what you can there.” + </p> +<p> +“Anything more?” said Blake, with a very dry and quizzical expression I +didn’t half like,—“anything more?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, yes; you are to write a line to old Mallock.” + </p> +<p> +“I understand; about Coolnamuck, isn’t it?” + </p> +<p> +“Exactly; I believe that’s all.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, now, Charley, you may go down-stairs, and we’ll talk it over after +dinner.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, Charley dear, go down, for I’m going to draw on my stockings,” said +the fair Mrs. Blake, with a look of very modest consciousness. +</p> +<p> +When I had left the room I couldn’t help muttering a “Thank God!” for the +success of a mission I more than once feared for, and hastened to despatch +a note to my uncle, assuring him of the Blake interest, and adding that +for propriety’s sake I should defer my departure for a day or two longer. +</p> +<p> +This done, with a heart lightened of its load and in high spirits at my +cleverness, I descended to the drawing-room. Here a very large party were +already assembled, and at every opening of the door a new relay of Blakes, +Burkes, and Bodkins was introduced. In the absence of the host, Sir George +Dashwood was “making the agreeable” to the guests, and shook hands with +every new arrival with all the warmth and cordiality of old friendship. +While thus he inquired for various absent individuals, and asked most +affectionately for sundry aunts and uncles not forthcoming, a slight +incident occurred which by its ludicrous turn served to shorten the long +half-hour before dinner. An individual of the party, a Mr. Blake, had, +from certain peculiarities of face, obtained in his boyhood the sobriquet +of “Shave-the-wind.” This hatchet-like conformation had grown with his +growth, and perpetuated upon him a nickname by which alone was he ever +spoken of among his friends and acquaintances; the only difference being +that as he came to man’s estate, brevity, that soul of wit, had curtailed +the epithet to mere “Shave.” Now, Sir George had been hearing frequent +reference made to him always by this name, heard him ever so addressed, +and perceived him to reply to it; so that when he was himself asked by +some one what sport he had found that day among the woodcocks, he answered +at once, with a bow of very grateful acknowledgment, “Excellent, indeed; +but entirely owing to where I was placed in the copse. Had it not been for +Mr. Shave there—” + </p> +<p> +I need not say that the remainder of his speech, being heard on all sides, +became one universal shout of laughter, in which, to do him justice, the +excellent Shave himself heartily joined. Scarcely were the sounds of mirth +lulled into an apparent calm, when the door opened and the host and +hostess appeared. Mrs. Blake advanced in all the plenitude of her charms, +arrayed in crimson satin, sorely injured in its freshness by a patch of +grease upon the front about the same size and shape as the continent of +Europe in Arrowsmith’s Atlas. A swan’s-down tippet covered her shoulders; +massive bracelets ornamented her wrists; while from her ears descended two +Irish diamond ear-rings, rivalling in magnitude and value the glass +pendants of a lustre. Her reception of her guests made ample amends, in +warmth and cordiality, for any deficiency of elegance; and as she disposed +her ample proportions upon the sofa, and looked around upon the company, +she appeared the very impersonation of hospitality. +</p> +<p> +After several openings and shuttings of the drawing-room door, accompanied +by the appearance of old Simon the butler, who counted the party at least +five times before he was certain that the score was correct, dinner was at +length announced. Now came a moment of difficulty, and one which, as +testing Mr. Blake’s tact, he would gladly have seen devolve upon some +other shoulders; for he well knew that the marshalling a room full of +mandarins, blue, green, and yellow, was “cakes and gingerbread” to +ushering a Galway party in to dinner. +</p> +<p> +First, then, was Mr. Miles Bodkin, whose grandfather would have been a +lord if Cromwell had not hanged him one fine morning. Then Mrs. Mosey +Blake’s first husband was promised the title of Kilmacud if it was ever +restored; whereas Mrs. French of Knocktunmor’s mother was then at law for +a title. And lastly, Mrs. Joe Burke was fourth cousin to Lord Clanricarde, +as is or will be every Burke from this to the day of judgment. Now, +luckily for her prospects, the lord was alive; and Mr. Blake, remembering +a very sage adage about “dead lions,” etc., solved the difficulty at once +by gracefully tucking the lady under his arm and leading the way. The +others soon followed, the priest of Portumna and my unworthy self bringing +up the rear. +</p> +<p> +When, many a year afterwards, the hard ground of a mountain bivouac, with +its pitiful portion of pickled cork-tree yclept mess-beef, and that +pyroligneous aquafortis they call corn-brandy have been my hard fare, I +often looked back to that day’s dinner with a most heart-yearning +sensation,—a turbot as big as the Waterloo shield, a sirloin that +seemed cut from the sides of a rhinoceros, a sauce-boat that contained an +oyster-bed. There was a turkey, which singly would have formed the main +army of a French dinner, doing mere outpost duty, flanked by a picket of +ham and a detached squadron of chickens carefully ambushed in a forest of +greens; potatoes, not disguised <i>à la maître d’hôtel</i> and tortured to +resemble bad macaroni, but piled like shot in an ordnance-yard, were +posted at different quarters; while massive decanters of port and sherry +stood proudly up like standard bearers amidst the goodly array. This was +none of your austere “great dinners,” where a cold and chilling <i>plateau</i> +of artificial nonsense cuts off one-half of the table from intercourse +with the other; when whispered sentences constitute the conversation, and +all the friendly recognition of wine-drinking, which renews acquaintance +and cements an intimacy, is replaced by the ceremonious filling of your +glass by a lackey; where smiles go current in lieu of kind speeches, and +epigram and smartness form the substitute for the broad jest and merry +story. Far from it. Here the company ate, drank, talked, laughed,—did +all but sing, and certainly enjoyed themselves heartily. As for me, I was +little more than a listener; and such was the crash of plates, the jingle +of glasses, and the clatter of voices, that fragments only of what was +passing around reached me, giving to the conversation of the party a +character occasionally somewhat incongruous. Thus such sentences as the +following ran foul of each other every instant:— +</p> +<p> +“No better land in Galway”—“where could you find such facilities”—“for +shooting Mr. Jones on his way home”—“the truth, the whole truth, and +nothing but the truth”—“kiss”—“Miss Blake, she’s the girl with +a foot and ankle”—“Daly has never had wool on his sheep”—“how +could he”—“what does he pay for the mountain”—“four and +tenpence a yard”—“not a penny less”—“all the cabbage-stalks +and potato-skins”—“with some bog stuff through it”—“that’s the +thing to”—“make soup, with a red herring in it instead of salt”—“and +when he proposed for my niece, ma’am, says he”—“mix a strong +tumbler, and I’ll make a shake-down for you on the floor”—“and may +the Lord have mercy on your soul”—“and now, down the middle and up +again”—“Captain Magan, my dear, he is the man”—“to shave a pig +properly”—“it’s not money I’m looking for, says he, the girl of my +heart”—“if she had not a wind-gall and two spavins”—“I’d have +given her the rights of the church, of coorse,” said Father Roach, +bringing up the rear of this ill-assorted jargon. +</p> +<p> +Such were the scattered links of conversation I was condemned to listen +to, till a general rise on the part of the ladies left us alone to discuss +our wine and enter in good earnest upon the more serious duties of the +evening. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely was the door closed when one of the company, seizing the +bell-rope, said, “With your leave, Blake, we’ll have the ‘dew’ now.” + </p> +<p> +“Good claret,—no better,” said another; “but it sits mighty cold on +the stomach.” + </p> +<p> +“There’s nothing like the groceries, after all,—eh, Sir George?” + said an old Galway squire to the English general, who acceded to the fact, +which he understood in a very different sense. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, punch, you are my darlin’,” hummed another, as a large, square, +half-gallon decanter of whiskey was placed on the table, the various +decanters of wine being now ignominiously sent down to the end of the +board without any evidence of regret on any face save Sir George +Dashwood’s, who mixed his tumbler with a very rebellious conscience. +</p> +<p> +Whatever were the noise and clamor of the company before, they were +nothing to what now ensued. As one party were discussing the approaching +contest, another was planning a steeple-chase, while two individuals, +unhappily removed from each other the entire length of the table, were +what is called “challenging each other’s effects” in a very remarkable +manner,—the process so styled being an exchange of property, when +each party, setting an imaginary value upon some article, barters it for +another, the amount of boot paid and received being determined by a third +person, who is the umpire. Thus a gold breast-pin was swopped, as the +phrase is, against a horse; then a pair of boots, then a Kerry bull, etc.,—every +imaginable species of property coming into the market. Sometimes, as +matters of very dubious value turned up, great laughter was the result. In +this very national pastime, a Mr. Miles Bodkin, a noted fire-eater of the +west, was a great proficient; and it is said he once so completely +succeeded in despoiling an uninitiated hand, that after winning in +succession his horse, gig, harness, etc., he proceeded <i>seriatim</i> to +his watch, ring, clothes, and portmanteau, and actually concluded by +winning all he possessed, and kindly lent him a card-cloth to cover him on +his way to the hotel. His success on the present occasion was +considerable, and his spirits proportionate. The decanter had thrice been +replenished, and the flushed faces and thickened utterance of the guests +evinced that from the cold properties of the claret there was but little +to dread. As for Mr. Bodkin, his manner was incapable of any higher +flight, when under the influence of whiskey, than what it evinced on +common occasions; and as he sat at the end of the table fronting Mr. +Blake, he assumed all the dignity of the ruler of the feast, with an +energy no one seemed disposed to question. In answer to some observations +of Sir George, he was led into something like an oration upon the peculiar +excellences of his native country, which ended in a declaration that there +was nothing like Galway. +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t you give us a song, Miles? And may be the general would learn +more from it than all your speech-making.” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure,” cried the several voices together,—“to be sure; let us +hear the ‘Man for Galway’!” + </p> +<p> +Sir George having joined most warmly in the request, Mr. Bodkin filled up +his glass to the brim, bespoke a chorus to his chant, and clearing his +voice with a deep hem, began the following ditty, to the air which Moore +has since rendered immortal by the beautiful song, “Wreath the Bowl,” etc. +And, although the words are well known in the west, for the information of +less-favored regions, I here transcribe— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE MAN FOR GALWAY. + +To drink a toast, +A proctor roast, +Or bailiff as the case is; +To kiss your wife, +Or take your life +At ten or fifteen paces; +To keep game-cocks, to hunt the fox, +To drink in punch the Solway, +With debts galore, but fun far more,— +Oh, that’s “the man for Galway.” + CHORUS: With debts, etc. + +The King of Oude +Is mighty proud, +And so were onst the <i>Caysars</i>; +But ould Giles Eyre +Would make them stare, +Av he had them with the Blazers. +To the devil I fling—ould Runjeet Sing, +He’s only a prince in a small way, +And knows nothing at all of a six-foot wall; +Oh, he’d never “do for Galway.” + CHORUS: With debts, etc. + +Ye think the Blakes +Are no “great shakes;” + They’re all his blood relations. +And the Bodkins sneeze +At the grim Chinese, +For they come from the <i>Phenaycians</i>. +So fill the brim, and here’s to him +Who’d drink in punch the Solway, +With debts galore, but fun far more,— +Oh, that’s “the man for Galway.” + CHORUS: With debts, etc. +</pre> +<p> +I much fear that the reception of this very classic ode would not be as +favorable in general companies as it was on the occasion I first heard it; +for certainly the applause was almost deafening, and even Sir George, the +defects of whose English education left some of the allusions out of his +reach, was highly amused, and laughed heartily. +</p> +<p> +The conversation once more reverted to the election; and although I was +too far from those who seemed best informed on the matter to hear much, I +could catch enough to discover that the feeling was a confident one. This +was gratifying to me, as I had some scruples about my so long neglecting +my uncle’s cause. +</p> +<p> +“We have Scariff to a man,” said Bodkin. +</p> +<p> +“And Mosey’s tenantry,” said another. “I swear, though there’s not a +freehold registered on the estate, that they’ll vote, every mother’s son +of them, or devil a stone of the court-house they’ll leave standing on +another.” + </p> +<p> +“And may the Lord look to the returning officer!” said a third, throwing +up his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Mosey’s tenantry are droll boys; and like their landlord, more by token, +they never pay any rent.” + </p> +<p> +“And what for shouldn’t they vote?” said a dry-looking little old fellow +in a red waistcoat; “when I was the dead agent—” + </p> +<p> +“The dead agent!” interrupted Sir George, with a start. +</p> +<p> +“Just so,” said the old fellow, pulling down his spectacles from his +forehead, and casting a half-angry look at Sir George, for what he had +suspected to be a doubt of his veracity. +</p> +<p> +“The general does not know, may be, what that is,” said some one. +</p> +<p> +“You have just anticipated me,” said Sir George; “I really am in most +profound ignorance.” + </p> +<p> +“It is the dead agent,” says Mr. Blake, “who always provides substitutes +for any voters that may have died since the last election. A very +important fact in statistics may thus be gathered from the poll-books of +this county, which proves it to be the healthiest part of Europe,—a +freeholder has not died in it for the last fifty years.” + </p> +<p> +“The ‘Kiltopher boys’ won’t come this time; they say there’s no use trying +to vote when so many were transported last assizes for perjury.” + </p> +<p> +“They’re poor-spirited creatures,” said another. +</p> +<p> +“Not they,—they are as decent boys as any we have; they’re willing +to wreck the town for fifty shillings’ worth of spirits. Besides, if they +don’t vote for the county, they will for the borough.” + </p> +<p> +This declaration seemed to restore these interesting individuals to favor; +and now all attention was turned towards Bodkin, who was detailing the +plan of a grand attack upon the polling-booths, to be headed by himself. +By this time, all the prudence and guardedness of the party had given way; +whiskey was in the ascendant, and every bold stroke of election policy, +every cunning artifice, every ingenious device, was detailed and applauded +in a manner which proved that self-respect was not the inevitable gift of +“mountain dew.” + </p> +<p> +The mirth and fun grew momentarily more boisterous, and Miles Bodkin, who +had twice before been prevented proposing some toast by a telegraphic +signal from the other end of the table, now swore that nothing should +prevent him any longer, and rising with a smoking tumbler in his hand, +delivered himself as follows:— +</p> +<p> +“No, no, Phil Blake, ye needn’t be winkin’ at me that way; it’s little I +care for the spawn of the ould serpent. [Here great cheers greeted the +speaker, in which, without well knowing why, I heartily joined.] I’m going +to give a toast, boys,—a real good toast, none of your sentimental +things about wall-flowers or the vernal equinox, or that kind of thing, +but a sensible, patriotic, manly, intrepid toast,—toast you must +drink in the most universal, laborious, and awful manner: do ye see now? +[Loud cheers.] If any man of you here present doesn’t drain this toast to +the bottom [here the speaker looked fixedly at me, as did the rest of the +company]—then, by the great-gun of Athlone, I’ll make him eat the +decanter, glass-stopper and all, for the good of his digestion: d’ye see +now?” + </p> +<p> +The cheering at this mild determination prevented my hearing what +followed; but the peroration consisted in a very glowing eulogy upon some +person unknown, and a speedy return to him as member for Galway. Amidst +all the noise and tumult at this critical moment, nearly every eye at the +table was turned upon me; and as I concluded that they had been drinking +my uncle’s health, I thundered away at the mahogany with all my energy. At +length the hip-hipping over, and comparative quiet restored, I rose from +my seat to return thanks; but, strange enough, Sir George Dashwood did so +likewise. And there we both stood, amidst an uproar that might well have +shaken the courage of more practised orators; while from every side came +cries of “Hear, hear!”—“Go on, Sir George!”—“Speak out, +General!”—“Sit down, Charley!”—“Confound the boy!”—“Knock +the legs from under him!” etc. Not understanding why Sir George should +interfere with what I regarded as my peculiar duty, I resolved not to give +way, and avowed this determination in no very equivocal terms. “In that +case,” said the general, “I am to suppose that the young gentleman moves +an amendment to your proposition; and as the etiquette is in his favor, I +yield.” Here he resumed his place amidst a most terrific scene of noise +and tumult, while several humane proposals as to my treatment were made +around me, and a kind suggestion thrown out to break my neck by a near +neighbor. Mr. Blake at length prevailed upon the party to hear what I had +to say,—for he was certain I should not detain them above a minute. +The commotion having in some measure subsided, I began: “Gentlemen, as the +adopted son of the worthy man whose health you have just drunk—” + Heaven knows how I should have continued; but here my eloquence was met by +such a roar of laughing as I never before listened to. From one end of the +board to the other it was one continued shout, and went on, too, as if all +the spare lungs of the party had been kept in reserve for the occasion. I +turned from one to the other; I tried to smile, and seemed to participate +in the joke, but failed; I frowned; I looked savagely about where I could +see enough to turn my wrath thitherward,—and, as it chanced, not in +vain; for Mr. Miles Bodkin, with an intuitive perception of my wishes, +most suddenly ceased his mirth, and assuming a look of frowning defiance +that had done him good service upon many former occasions, rose and said:— +</p> +<p> +“Well, sir, I hope you’re proud of yourself. You’ve made a nice beginning +of it, and a pretty story you’ll have for your uncle. But if you’d like to +break the news by a letter the general will have great pleasure in +franking it for you; for, by the rock of Cashel, we’ll carry him in +against all the O’Malley’s that ever cheated the sheriff.” + </p> +<p> +Scarcely were the words uttered, when I seized my wineglass, and hurled it +with all my force at his head; so sudden was the act, and so true the aim, +that Mr. Bodkin measured his length upon the floor ere his friends could +appreciate his late eloquent effusion. The scene now became terrific; for +though the redoubted Miles was <i>hors-de-combat</i>, his friends made a +tremendous rush at, and would infallibly have succeeded in capturing me, +had not Blake and four or five others interposed. Amidst a desperate +struggle, which lasted for some minutes, I was torn from the spot, carried +bodily up-stairs, and pitched headlong into my own room; where, having +doubly locked the door on the outside, they left me to my own cool and not +over-agreeable reflections. +</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 FLIGHT FROM GURT-NA-MORRA. +</p> +<p> +It was by one of those sudden and inexplicable revulsions which +occasionally restore to sense and intellect the maniac of years standing, +that I was no sooner left alone in my chamber than I became perfectly +sober. The fumes of the wine—and I had drunk deeply—were +dissipated at once; my head, which but a moment before was half wild with +excitement, was now cool, calm, and collected; and stranger than all, I, +who had only an hour since entered the dining-room with all the +unsuspecting freshness of boyhood, became, by a mighty bound, a man,—a +man in all my feelings of responsibility, a man who, repelling an insult +by an outrage, had resolved to stake his life upon the chance. In an +instant a new era in life had opened before me; the light-headed gayety +which fearlessness and youth impart was replaced by one absorbing thought,—one +all-engrossing, all-pervading impression, that if I did not follow up my +quarrel with Bodkin, I was dishonored and disgraced, my little knowledge +of such matters not being sufficient to assure me that I was now the +aggressor, and that any further steps in the affair should come from his +side. +</p> +<p> +So thoroughly did my own griefs occupy me, that I had no thought for the +disappointment my poor uncle was destined to meet with in hearing that the +Blake interest was lost to him, and the former breach between the families +irreparably widened by the events of the evening. Escape was my first +thought; but how to accomplish it? The door, a solid one of Irish oak, +doubly locked and bolted, defied all my efforts to break it open; the +window was at least five-and-twenty feet from the ground, and not a tree +near to swing into. I shouted, I called aloud, I opened the sash, and +tried if any one outside were within hearing; but in vain. Weary and +exhausted, I sat down upon my bed and ruminated over my fortunes. +Vengeance—quick, entire, decisive vengeance—I thirsted and +panted for; and every moment I lived under the insult inflicted on me +seemed an age of torturing and maddening agony. I rose with a leap; a +thought had just occurred to me. I drew the bed towards the window, and +fastening the sheet to one of the posts with a firm knot, I twisted it +into a rope, and let myself down to within about twelve feet of the +ground, when I let go my hold, and dropped upon the grass beneath safe and +uninjured. A thin, misty rain was falling, and I now perceived, for the +first time, that in my haste I had forgotten my hat; this thought, +however, gave me little uneasiness, and I took my way towards the stable, +resolving, if I could, to saddle my horse and get off before any +intimation of my escape reached the family. +</p> +<p> +When I gained the yard, all was quiet and deserted; the servants were +doubtless enjoying themselves below stairs, and I met no one on the way. I +entered the stable, threw the saddle upon “Badger,” and before five +minutes from my descent from the window, was galloping towards O’Malley +Castle at a pace that defied pursuit, had any one thought of it. +</p> +<p> +It was about five o’clock on a dark, wintry morning as I led my horse +through the well-known defiles of out-houses and stables which formed the +long line of offices to my uncle’s house. As yet no one was stirring; and +as I wished to have my arrival a secret from the family, after providing +for the wants of my gallant gray, I lifted the latch of the kitchen-door—no +other fastening being ever thought necessary, even at night—and +gently groped my way towards the stairs; all was perfectly still, and the +silence now recalled me to reflection as to what course I should pursue. +It was all-important that my uncle should know nothing of my quarrel, +otherwise he would inevitably make it his own, and by treating me like a +boy in the matter, give the whole affair the very turn I most dreaded. +Then, as to Sir Harry Boyle, he would most certainly turn the whole thing +into ridicule, make a good story, perhaps a song out of it, and laugh at +my notions of demanding satisfaction. Considine, I knew, was my man; but +then he was at Athlone,—at least so my uncle’s letter mentioned. +Perhaps he might have returned; if not, to Athlone I should set off at +once. So resolving, I stole noiselessly up-stairs, and reached the door of +the count’s chamber; I opened it gently and entered; and though my step +was almost imperceptible to myself, it was quite sufficient to alarm the +watchful occupant of the room, who, springing up in his bed, demanded +gruffly, “Who’s there?” + </p> +<p> +“Charles, sir,” said I, shutting the door carefully, and approaching his +bedside. “Charles O’Malley, sir. I’m come to have a bit of your advice; +and as the affair won’t keep, I have been obliged to disturb you.” + </p> +<p> +“Never mind, Charley,” said the count; “sit down, there’s a chair +somewhere near the bed,—have you found it? There! Well now, what is +it? What news of Blake?” + </p> +<p> +“Very bad; no worse. But it is not exactly <i>that</i> I came about; I’ve +got into a scrape, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Run off with one of the daughters,” said Considine. “By jingo, I knew +what those artful devils would be after.” + </p> +<p> +“Not so bad as that,” said I, laughing. “It’s just a row, a kind of +squabble; something that must come—” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, ay,” said the count, brightening up; “say you so, Charley? Begad, the +young ones will beat us all out of the field. Who is it with,—not +old Blake himself; how was it? Tell me all.” + </p> +<p> +I immediately detailed the whole events of the preceding chapter, as well +as his frequent interruptions would permit, and concluded by asking what +farther step was now to be taken, as I was resolved the matter should be +concluded before it came to my uncle’s ears. +</p> +<p> +“There you are all right; quite correct, my boy. But there are many points +I should have wished otherwise in the conduct of the affair hitherto.” + </p> +<p> +Conceiving that he was displeased at my petulance and boldness, I was +about to commence a kind of defence, when he added,— +</p> +<p> +“Because, you see,” said he, assuming an oracular tone of voice, “throwing +a wine-glass, with or without wine, in a man’s face is merely, as you may +observe, a mark of denial and displeasure at some observation he may have +made,—not in any wise intended to injure him, further than in the +wound to his honor at being so insulted, for which, of course, he must +subsequently call you out. Whereas, Charley, in the present case, the view +I take is different; the expression of Mr. Bodkin, as regards your uncle, +was insulting to a degree,—gratuitously offensive,—and +warranting a blow. Therefore, my boy, you should, under such +circumstances, have preferred aiming at him with a decanter: a cut-glass +decanter, well aimed and low, I have seen do effective service. However, +as you remark it was your first thing of the kind, I am pleased with you—very +much pleased with you. Now, then, for the next step.” So saying, he arose +from his bed, and striking a light with a tinder-box, proceeded to dress +himself as leisurely as if for a dinner party, talking all the while. +</p> +<p> +“I will just take Godfrey’s tax-cart and the roan mare on to Meelish, put +them up at the little inn,—it is not above a mile from Bodkin’s; and +I’ll go over and settle the thing for you. You must stay quiet till I come +back, and not leave the house on any account. I’ve got a case of old broad +barrels there that will answer you beautifully; if you were anything of a +shot, I’d give you my own cross handles, but they’d only spoil your +shooting.” + </p> +<p> +“I can hit a wine-glass in the stem at fifteen paces,” said I, rather +nettled at the disparaging tone in which he spoke of my performance. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t care sixpence for that; the wine-glass had no pistol in his hand. +Take the old German, then; see now, hold your pistol thus,—no finger +on the guard there, these two on the trigger. They are not hair-triggers; +drop the muzzle a bit; bend your elbow a trifle more; sight your man +outside your arm,—outside, mind,—and take him in the hip, and +if anywhere higher, no matter.” + </p> +<p> +By this time the count had completed his toilet, and taking the small +mahogany box which contained his peace-makers under his arm, led the way +towards the stables. When we reached the yard, the only person stirring +there was a kind of half-witted boy, who, being about the house, was +employed to run of messages from the servants, walk a stranger’s horse, or +to do any of the many petty services that regular domestics contrive +always to devolve upon some adopted subordinate. He was seated upon a +stone step formerly used for mounting, and though the day was scarcely +breaking, and the weather severe and piercing, the poor fellow was singing +an Irish song, in a low monotonous tone, as he chafed a curb chain between +his hands with some sand. As we came near he started up, and as he pulled +off his cap to salute us, gave a sharp and piercing glance at the count, +then at me, then once more upon my companion, from whom his eyes were +turned to the brass-bound box beneath his arm,—when, as if seized +with a sudden impulse, he started on his feet, and set off towards the +house with the speed of a greyhound, not, however, before Considine’s +practised eye had anticipated his plan; for throwing down the pistol-case, +he dashed after him, and in an instant had seized him by the collar. +</p> +<p> +“It won’t do, Patsey,” said the count; “you can’t double on me.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Count, darlin’, Mister Considine avick, don’t do it, don’t now,” said +the poor fellow, falling on his knees, and blubbering like an infant. +</p> +<p> +“Hold your tongue, you villain, or I’ll cut it out of your head,” said +Considine. +</p> +<p> +“And so I will; but don’t do it, don’t for the love of—” + </p> +<p> +“Don’t do what, you whimpering scoundrel? What does he think I’ll do?” + </p> +<p> +“Don’t I know very well what you’re after, what you’re always after too? +Oh, wirra, wirra!” Here he wrung his hands, and swayed himself backwards +and forwards, a true picture of Irish grief. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll stop his blubbering,” said Considine, opening the box and taking out +a pistol, which he cocked leisurely, and pointed at the poor fellow’s +head; “another syllable now, and I’ll scatter your brains upon that +pavement.” + </p> +<p> +“And do, and divil thank you; sure, it’s your trade.” + </p> +<p> +The coolness of the reply threw us both off our guard so completely that +we burst out into a hearty fit of laughing. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come,” said the count, at last, “this will never do; if he goes on +this way, we’ll have the whole house about us. Come, then, harness the +roan mare; and here’s half a crown for you.” + </p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t touch the best piece in your purse,” said the poor boy; “sure +it’s blood-money, no less.” + </p> +<p> +The words were scarcely spoken, when Considine seized him by the collar +with one hand, and by the wrist with the other, and carried him over the +yard to the stable, where, kicking open the door, he threw him on a heap +of stones, adding, “If you stir now, I’ll break every bone in your body;” + a threat that seemed certainly considerably increased in its terrors, from +the rough gripe he had already experienced, for the lad rolled himself up +like a ball, and sobbed as if his heart were breaking. +</p> +<p> +Very few minutes sufficed us now to harness the mare in the tax-cart, and +when all was ready, Considine seized the whip, and locking the stable-door +upon Patsey, was about to get up, when a sudden thought struck him. +“Charley,” said he, “that fellow will find some means to give the alarm; +we must take him with us.” So saying, he opened the door, and taking the +poor fellow by the collar, flung him at my feet in the tax-cart. +</p> +<p> +We had already lost some time, and the roan mare was put to her fastest +speed to make up for it. Our pace became, accordingly, a sharp one; and as +the road was bad, and the tax-cart no “patent inaudible,” neither of us +spoke. To me this was a great relief. The events of the last few days had +given them the semblance of years, and all the reflection I could muster +was little enough to make anything out of the chaotic mass,—love, +mischief, and misfortune,—in which I had been involved since my +leaving O’Malley Castle. +</p> +<p> +“Here we are, Charley,” said Considine, drawing up short at the door of a +little country ale-house, or, in Irish parlance, <i>shebeen</i>, which +stood at the meeting of four bleak roads, in a wild and barren mountain +tract beside the Shannon. “Here we are, my boy! Jump out and let us be +stirring.” + </p> +<p> +“Here, Patsey, my man,” said the count, unravelling the prostrate and +doubly knotted figure at our feet; “lend a hand, Patsey.” Much to my +astonishment, he obeyed the summons with alacrity, and proceeded to +unharness the mare with the greatest despatch. My attention was, however, +soon turned from him to my own more immediate concerns, and I followed my +companion into the house. +</p> +<p> +“Joe,” said the count to the host, “is Mr. Bodkin up at the house this +morning?” + </p> +<p> +“He’s just passed this way, sir, with Mr. Malowney of Tillnamuck, in the +gig, on their way from Mr. Blake’s. They stopped here to order horses to +go over to O’Malley Castle, and the gossoon is gone to look for a pair.” + </p> +<p> +“All right,” said Considine, and added, in a whisper, “we’ve done it well, +Charley, to be beforehand, or the governor would have found it all out and +taken the affair into his own hands. Now all you have to do is to stay +quietly here till I come back, which will not be above an hour at +farthest. Joe, send me the pony; keep an eye on Patsey, that he doesn’t +play us a trick. The short way to Mr. Bodkin’s is through Scariff. Ay, I +know it well; good-by, Charley. By the Lord, we’ll pepper him!” + </p> +<p> +These were the last words of the worthy count as he closed the door behind +him, and left me to my own not very agreeable reflections. Independently +of my youth and perfect ignorance of the world, which left me unable to +form any correct judgment on my conduct, I knew that I had taken a great +deal of wine, and was highly excited when my unhappy collision with Mr. +Bodkin occurred. Whether, then, I had been betrayed into anything which +could fairly have provoked his insulting retort or not, I could not +remember; and now my most afflicting thought was, what opinion might be +entertained of me by those at Blake’s table; and above all, what Miss +Dashwood herself would think, and what narrative of the occurrence would +reach her. The great effort of my last few days had been to stand well in +her estimation, to appear something better in feeling, something higher in +principle, than the rude and unpolished squirearchy about me; and now here +was the end of it! What would she, what could she, think, but that I was +the same punch-drinking, rowing, quarrelling bumpkin as those whom I had +so lately been carefully endeavoring to separate myself from? How I hated +myself for the excess to which passion had betrayed me, and how I detested +my opponent as the cause of all my present misery. “How very differently,” + thought I, “her friend the captain would have conducted himself. His quiet +and gentlemanly manner would have done fully as much to wipe out any +insult on his honor as I could do, and after all, would neither have +disturbed the harmony of a dinner-table, nor made himself, as I shuddered +to think I had, a subject of rebuke, if not of ridicule.” These harassing, +torturing reflections continued to press on me, and I paced the room with +my hands clasped and the perspiration upon my brow. “One thing is certain,—I +can never see her again,” thought I; “this disgraceful business must, in +some shape or other, become known to her, and all I have been saying these +last three days rise up in judgment against this one act, and stamp me an +impostor! I that decried—nay, derided—our false notion of +honor. Would that Considine were come! What can keep him now?” I walked to +the door; a boy belonging to the house was walking the roan before the +door. “What had, then, become of Pat?” I inquired; but no one could tell. +He had disappeared shortly after our arrival, and had not been seen +afterwards. My own thoughts were, however, too engrossing to permit me to +think more of this circumstance, and I turned again to enter the house, +when I saw Considine advancing up the road at the full speed of his pony. +</p> +<p> +“Out with the mare, Charley! Be alive, my boy!—all’s settled.” So +saying, he sprang from the pony and proceeded to harness the roan with the +greatest haste, informing me in broken sentences, as he went on with all +the arrangements. +</p> +<p> +“We are to cross the bridge of Portumna. They won the ground, and it seems +Bodkin likes the spot; he shot Peyton there three years ago. Worse luck +now, Charley, you know; by all the rule of chance, he can’t expect the +same thing twice,—never four by honors in two deals. Didn’t say +that, though. A sweet meadow, I know it well; small hillocks, like +molehills; all over it. Caught him at breakfast; I don’t think he expected +the message to come from us, but said it was a very polite attention,—and +so it was, you know.” + </p> +<p> +So he continued to ramble on as we once more took our seats in the +tax-cart and set out for the ground. +</p> +<p> +“What are you thinking of, Charley?” said the count, as I kept silent for +some minutes. +</p> +<p> +“I’m thinking, sir, if I were to kill him, what I must do after.” + </p> +<p> +“Right, my boy; nothing like that, but I’ll settle all for you. Upon my +conscience, if it wasn’t for the chance of his getting into another +quarrel and spoiling the election, I’d go back for Godfrey; he’d like to +see you break ground so prettily. And you say you’re no shot?” + </p> +<p> +“Never could do anything with the pistol to speak of, sir,” said I, +remembering his rebuke of the morning. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t mind that. You’ve a good eye; never take it off him after you’re +on the ground,—follow him everywhere. Poor Callaghan, that’s gone, +shot his man always that way. He had a way of looking without winking that +was very fatal at a short distance; a very good thing to learn, Charley, +when you have a little spare time.” + </p> +<p> +Half-an-hour’s sharp driving brought us to the river side, where a boat +had been provided by Considine to ferry us over. It was now about eight +o’clock, and a heavy, gloomy morning. Much rain had fallen overnight, and +the dark and lowering atmosphere seemed charged with more. The mountains +looked twice their real size, and all the shadows were increased to an +enormous extent. A very killing kind of light it was, as the count +remarked. +</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 DUEL. +</p> +<p> +As the boatmen pulled in towards the shore we perceived, a few hundred +yards off, a group of persons standing, whom we soon recognized as our +opponents. “Charley,” said the count, grasping my arm tightly, as I stood +up to spring on the land,—“Charley, although you are only a boy, as +I may say, I have no fear for your courage; but still more than that is +needful here. This Bodkin is a noted duellist, and will try to shake your +nerve. Now, mind that you take everything that happens quite with an air +of indifference; don’t let him think that he has any advantage over you, +and you’ll see how the tables will be turned in your favor.” + </p> +<p> +“Trust to me, Count” said I; “I’ll not disgrace you.” + </p> +<p> +He pressed my hand tightly, and I thought that I discerned something like +a slight twitch about the corners of his grim mouth, as if some sudden and +painful thought had shot across his mind; but in a moment he was calm, and +stern-looking as ever. +</p> +<p> +“Twenty minutes late, Mr. Considine,” said a short, red-faced little man, +with a military frock and foraging cap, as he held out his watch in +evidence. +</p> +<p> +“I can only say, Captain Malowney, that we lost no time since we parted. +We had some difficulty in finding a boat; but in any case, we are here <i>now</i>, +and that, I opine, is the important part of the matter.” + </p> +<p> +“Quite right,—very just indeed. Will you present me to your young +friend. Very proud to make your acquaintance, sir; your uncle and I met +more than once in this kind of way. I was out with him in ‘92,—was +it? no, I think it was ‘93,—when he shot Harry Burgoyne, who, +by-the-bye, was called the crack shot of our mess; but, begad, your uncle +knocked his pistol hand to shivers, saying, in his dry way, ‘He must try +the left hand this morning.’ Count, a little this side, if you please.” + </p> +<p> +While Considine and the captain walked a few paces apart from where I +stood, I had leisure to observe my antagonist, who stood among a group of +his friends, talking and laughing away in great spirits. As the tone they +spoke in was not of the lowest, I could catch much of their conversation +at the distance I was from them. They were discussing the last occasion +that Bodkin had visited this spot, and talking of the fatal event which +happened then. +</p> +<p> +“Poor devil,” said Bodkin, “it wasn’t his fault; but you see some of the +—th had been showing white feathers before that, and he was obliged +to go out. In fact, the colonel himself said, ‘Fight, or leave the corps.’ +Well, out he came; it was a cold morning in February, with a frost the +night before going off in a thin rain. Well, it seems he had the +consumption or something of that sort, with a great cough and spitting of +blood, and this weather made him worse; and he was very weak when he came +to the ground. Now, the moment I got a glimpse of him, I said to myself, +‘He’s pluck enough, but as nervous as a lady;’ for his eye wandered all +about, and his mouth was constantly twitching. ‘Take off your great-coat, +Ned,’ said one of his people, when they were going to put him up; ‘take it +off, man.’ He seemed to hesitate for an instant, when Michael Blake +remarked, ‘Arrah, let him alone; it’s his mother makes him wear it, for +the cold he has.’ They all began to laugh at this; but I kept my eye upon +him, and I saw that his cheek grew quite livid and a kind of gray color, +and his eyes filled up. ‘I have you now,’ said I to myself, and I shot him +through the lung.” + </p> +<p> +“And this poor fellow,” thought I, “was the only son of a widowed mother.” + I walked from the spot to avoid hearing further, and felt, as I did so, +something like a spirit of vengeance rising within me, for the fate of one +so untimely cut off. +</p> +<p> +“Here we are, all ready,” said Malowney, springing over a small fence into +the adjoining field. “Take your ground, gentlemen.” + </p> +<p> +Considine took my arm and walked forward. “Charley,” said he, “I am to +give the signal; I’ll drop my glove when you are to fire, but don’t look +at me at all. I’ll manage to catch Bodkin’s eye; and do you watch him +steadily, and fire when he does.” + </p> +<p> +“I think that the ground we are leaving behind us is rather better,” said +some one. +</p> +<p> +“So it is,” said Bodkin; “but it might be troublesome to carry the young +gentleman down that way,—here all is fair and easy.” + </p> +<p> +The next instant we were placed; and I well remember the first thought +that struck me was, that there could be no chance of either of us +escaping. +</p> +<p> +“Now then,” said the count, “I’ll walk twelve paces, turn and drop this +glove; at which signal you fire, and <i>together</i> mind. The man who +reserves his shot falls by my hand.” This very summary denunciation seemed +to meet general approbation, and the count strutted forth. Notwithstanding +the advice of my friend, I could not help turning my eyes from Bodkin to +watch the retiring figure of the count. At length he stopped; a second or +two elapsed; he wheeled rapidly round, and let fall the glove. My eye +glanced towards my opponent; I raised my pistol and fired. My hat turned +half round upon my head, and Bodkin fell motionless to the earth. I saw +the people around me rush forward; I caught two or three glances thrown at +me with an expression of revengeful passion; I felt some one grasp me +round the waist, and hurry me from the spot; and it was at least ten +minutes after, as we were skimming the surface of the broad Shannon, +before I could well collect my scattered faculties to remember all that +was passing, as Considine, pointing to the two bullet-holes in my hat, +remarked, “Sharp practice, Charley; it was the overcharge saved you.” + </p> +<p> +“Is he killed, sir?” I asked. +</p> +<p> +“Not quite, I believe, but as good. You took him just above the hip.” + </p> +<p> +“Can he recover?” said I, with a voice tremulous from agitation, which I +vainly endeavored to conceal from my companion. +</p> +<p> +“Not if the doctor can help it,” said Considine; “for the fool keeps +poking about for the ball. But now let’s think of the next step,—you’ll +have to leave this, and at once, too.” + </p> +<p> +Little more passed between us. As we rowed towards the shore, Considine +was following up his reflections, and I had mine,—alas! too many and +too bitter to escape from. +</p> +<p> +As we neared the land a strange spectacle caught our eye. For a +considerable distance along the coast crowds of country people were +assembled, who, forming in groups and breaking into parties of two and +three, were evidently watching with great anxiety what was taking place at +the opposite side. Now, the distance was at least a mile, and therefore +any part of the transaction which had been enacting there must have been +quite beyond their view. While I was wondering at this, Considine cried +out suddenly, “Too infamous, by Jove! We’re murdered men!” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you see that?” said he, pointing to something black which floated +from a pole at the opposite side of the river. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; what is it?” + </p> +<p> +“It’s his coat they’ve put upon an oar to show the people he’s killed,—that’s +all. Every man here’s his tenant; and look—there! They’re not giving +us much doubt as to their intention.” + </p> +<p> +Here a tremendous yell burst forth from the mass of people along the +shore, which rising to a terrific cry sunk gradually down to a low +wailing, then rose and fell again several times as the Irish death-cry +filled the air and rose to Heaven, as if imploring vengeance on a +murderer. +</p> +<p> +The appalling influence of the <i>keen</i>, as it is called, had been +familiar to me from my infancy; but it needed the awful situation I was +placed in to consummate its horrors. It was at once my accusation and my +doom. I knew well—none better—the vengeful character of the +Irish peasant of the west, and that my death was certain I had no doubt. +The very crime that sat upon my heart quailed its courage and unnerved my +arm. As the boatmen looked from us towards the shore and again at our +faces, they, as if instinctively, lay upon their oars, and waited for our +decision as to what course to pursue. +</p> +<p> +“Rig the spritsail, my boys,” said Considine, “and let her head lie up the +river; and be alive, for I see they’re bailing a boat below the little +reef there, and will be after us in no time.” + </p> +<p> +The poor fellows, who, although strangers to us, sympathizing in what they +perceived to be our imminent danger, stepped the light spar which acted as +mast, and shook out their scanty rag of canvas in a minute. Considine +meanwhile went aft, and steadying her head with an oar, held the small +craft up to the wind till she lay completely over, and as she rushed +through the water, ran dipping her gun-wale through the white foam. +</p> +<p> +“Where can we make without tacking, boys?” inquired the count. +</p> +<p> +“If it blows on as fresh, sir, we’ll run you ashore within half a mile of +the Castle.” + </p> +<p> +“Put an oar to leeward,” said Considine, “and keep her up more to the +wind, and I promise you, my lads, you will not go home fresh and fasting +if you land us where you say.” + </p> +<p> +“Here they come,” said the other boatman, as he pointed back with his +finger towards a large yawl which shot suddenly from the shore, with six +sturdy fellows pulling at their oars, while three or four others were +endeavoring to get up their rigging, which appeared tangled and confused +at the bottom of the boat; the white splash of water which fell each +moment beside her showing that the process of bailing was still continued. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, then, may I never—av it isn’t the ould ‘Dolphin’ they have +launched for the cruise,” said one of our fellows. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the ‘Dolphin,’ then?” + </p> +<p> +“An ould boat of the Lord’s [Lord Clanricarde’s] that didn’t see water, +except when it rained, these four years, and is sun-cracked from stem to +stern.” + </p> +<p> +“She can sail, however,” said Considine, who watched with a painful +anxiety the rapidity of her course through the water. +</p> +<p> +“Nabocklish, she was a smuggler’s jolly-boat, and well used to it. Look +how they’re pulling. God pardon them, but they’re in no blessed humor this +morning.” + </p> +<p> +“Lay out upon your oars, boys; the wind’s failing us,” cried the count, as +the sail flapped lazily against the mast. +</p> +<p> +“It’s no use, yer honor,” said the elder. “We’ll be only breaking our +hearts to no purpose. They’re sure to catch us.” + </p> +<p> +“Do as I bade you, at all events. What’s that ahead of us there?” + </p> +<p> +“The Oat Rock, sir. A vessel with grain struck there and went down with +all aboard, four years last winter. There’s no channel between it and the +shore,—all sunk rocks, every inch of it. There’s the breeze.” + </p> +<p> +The canvas fell over as he spoke, and the little craft lay down to it till +the foaming water bubbled over her lee bow. +</p> +<p> +“Keep her head up, sir; higher—higher still.” + </p> +<p> +But Considine little heeded the direction, steering straight for the +narrow channel the man alluded to. +</p> +<p> +“Tear and ages, but you’re going right for the cloch na quirka!” + </p> +<p> +“Arrah, an’ the devil a taste I’ll be drowned for your devarsion!” said +the other, springing up. +</p> +<p> +“Sit down there, and be still,” roared Considine, as he drew a pistol from +the case at his feet, “if you don’t want some leaden ballast to keep you +so! Here, Charley, take this, and if that fellow stirs hand or foot—you +understand me.” + </p> +<p> +The two men sat sulkily in the bottom of the boat, which now was actually +flying through the water. Considine’s object was a clear one. He saw that +in sailing we were greatly overmatched, and that our only chance lay in +reaching the narrow and dangerous channel between Oat Rock and the shore, +by which we should distance the pursuit, the long reef of rocks that ran +out beyond requiring a wide berth to escape from. Nothing but the danger +behind us could warrant so rash a daring. The whole channel was dotted +with patches of white and breaking foam,—the sure evidence of the +mischief beneath,—while here and there a dash of spurting spray flew +up from the dark water, where some cleft rock lay hid below the flood. +Escape seemed impossible; but who would not have preferred even so slender +a chance with so frightful an alternative behind him? As if to add terror +to the scene, Considine had scarcely turned the boat ahead of the channel +when a tremendous blackness spread over all around, the thunder pealed +forth, and amidst the crashing of the hail and the bright glare of +lightning a squall struck us and laid us nearly keel uppermost for several +minutes. I well remember we rushed through the dark and blackened water, +our little craft more than half filled, the oars floating off to leeward, +and we ourselves kneeling on the bottom planks for safety. Roll after roll +of loud thunder broke, as it were, just above our heads; while in the +swift dashing rain that seemed to hiss around us every object was hidden, +and even the other boat was lost to our view. The two poor fellows—I +shall never forget their expression. One, a devout Catholic, had placed a +little leaden image of a saint before him in the bow, and implored its +intercession with a torturing agony of suspense that wrung my very heart. +The other, apparently less alive to such consolations as his Church +afforded, remained with his hands clasped, his mouth compressed, his brows +knitted, and his dark eyes bent upon me with the fierce hatred of a deadly +enemy; his eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and all told of some dreadful +conflict within. The wild ferocity of his look fascinated my gaze, and +amidst all the terrors of the scene I could not look from him. As I gazed, +a second and more awful squall struck the boat; the mast went over, and +with a loud report like a pistol-shot smashed at the thwart and fell over, +trailing the sail along the milky sea behind us. Meanwhile the water +rushed clean over us, and the boat seemed settling. At this dreadful +moment the sailor’s eye was bent upon me, his lips parted, and he +muttered, as if to himself, “This it is to go to sea with a murderer.” Oh, +God! the agony of that moment! the heartfelt and accusing conscience that +I was judged and doomed! that the brand of Cain was upon my brow! that my +fellow-men had ceased forever to regard me as a brother! that I was an +outcast and a wanderer forever! I bent forward till my forehead fell upon +my knees, and I wept. Meanwhile the boat flew through the water, and +Considine, who alone among us seemed not to lose his presence of mind, cut +away the mast and sent it overboard. The storm began now to abate; and as +the black mass of cloud broke from around us we beheld the other boat, +also dismasted, far behind us, while all on board of her were employed in +bailing out the water with which she seemed almost sinking. The curtain of +mist that had hidden us from each other no sooner broke than they ceased +their labors for a moment, and looking towards us, burst forth into a yell +so wild, so savage, so dreadful, my very heart quailed as its cadence fell +upon my ear. +</p> +<p> +“Safe, my boy,” said Considine, clapping me on the shoulder, as he steered +the boat forth from its narrow path of danger, and once more reached the +broad Shannon,—“safe, Charley; though we’ve had a brush for it.” In +a minute more we reached the land, and drawing our gallant little craft on +shore, set out for O’Malley Castle. +</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> +THE RETURN. +</p> +<p> +O’Malley Castle lay about four miles from the spot we landed at, and +thither accordingly we bent our steps without loss of time. We had not, +however, proceeded far, when, before us on the road, we perceived a mixed +assemblage of horse and foot, hurrying along at a tremendous rate. The +mob, which consisted of some hundred country people, were armed with +sticks, scythes, and pitchforks, and although not preserving any very +military aspect in their order of march, were still a force quite +formidable enough to make us call a halt, and deliberate upon what we were +to do. +</p> +<p> +“They’ve outflanked us, Charley,” said Considine; “however, all is not yet +lost. But see, they’ve got sight of us; here they come.” + </p> +<p> +At these words, the vast mass before us came pouring along, splashing the +mud on every side, and huzzaing like so many Indians. In the front ran a +bare-legged boy, waving his cap to encourage the rest, who followed him at +about fifty yards behind. +</p> +<p> +“Leave that fellow for me,” said the count, coolly examining the lock of +his pistol; “I’ll pick him out, and load again in time for his friends’ +arrival. Charley, is that a gentleman I see far back in the crowd? Yes, to +be sure it is? He’s on a large horse—now he’s pressing forward; so +let—no—oh—ay, it’s Godfrey O’Malley himself, and these +are our own people.” Scarcely were the words out when a tremendous cheer +arose from the multitude, who, recognizing us at the same instant, sprang +from their horses and ran forward to welcome us. Among the foremost was +the scarecrow leader, whom I at once perceived as poor Patsey, who, +escaping in the morning, had returned at full speed to O’Malley Castle, +and raised the whole country to my rescue. Before I could address one word +to my faithful followers I was in my uncle’s arms. +</p> +<p> +“Safe, my boy, quite safe?” + </p> +<p> +“Quite safe, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“No scratch anywhere?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing but a hat the worse, sir,” said I, showing the two bullet-holes +in my headpiece. +</p> +<p> +His lip quivered as he turned and whispered something into Considine’s +ear, which I heard not; but the count’s reply was, “Devil a bit, as cool +as you see him this minute.” + </p> +<p> +“And Bodkin, what of him?” + </p> +<p> +“This day’s work’s his last,” said Considine; “the ball entered here. But +come along, Godfrey; Charley’s new at this kind of thing, and we had +better discuss matters in the house.” + </p> +<p> +Half-an-hour’s brisk trot—for we were soon supplied with horses—brought +us back to the Castle, much to the disappointment of our cortege, who had +been promised a <i>scrimmage</i>, and went back in very ill-humor at the +breach of contract. +</p> +<p> +The breakfast-room, as we entered, was filled with my uncle’s supporters, +all busily engaged over poll-books and booth tallies, in preparation for +the eventful day of battle. These, however, were immediately thrown aside +to hasten round me and inquire all the details of my duel. Considine, +happily for me, however, assumed all the dignity of an historian, and +recounted the events of the morning so much to my honor and glory, that I, +who only a little before felt crushed and bowed down by the misery of my +late duel, began, amidst the warm congratulations and eulogiums about me, +to think I was no small hero, and in fact, something very much resembling +“the man for Galway.” To this feeling a circumstance that followed +assisted in contributing. While we were eagerly discussing the various +results likely to arise from the meeting, a horse galloped rapidly to the +door and a loud voice called out, “I can’t get off, but tell him to come +here.” We rushed out and beheld Captain Malowney, Mr. Bodkin’s second, +covered with mud from head to foot, and his horse reeking with foam and +sweat. “I am hurrying on to Athlone for another doctor; but I’ve called to +tell you that the wound is not supposed to be mortal,—he may recover +yet.” Without waiting for another word, he dashed spurs into his nag and +rattled down the avenue at full gallop. Mr. Bodkin’s dearest friend on +earth could not have received the intelligence with more delight; and I +now began to listen to the congratulations of my friends with a more +tranquil spirit. My uncle, too, seemed much relieved by the information, +and heard with great good temper my narrative of the few days at +Gurt-na-Morra. “So then,” said he, as I concluded, “my opponent is at +least a gentleman; that is a comfort.” + </p> +<p> +“Sir George Dashwood,” said I, “from all I have seen, is a remarkably nice +person, and I am certain you will meet with only the fair and legitimate +opposition of an opposing candidate in him,—no mean or unmanly +subterfuge.” + </p> +<p> +“All right, Charley. Well, now, your affair of this morning must keep you +quiet for a few days, come what will; by Monday next, when the election +takes place, Bodkin’s fate will be pretty clear, one way or the other, and +if matters go well, you can come into town; otherwise, I have arranged +with Considine to take you over to the Continent for a year or so; but +we’ll discuss all this in the evening. Now I must start on a canvass. +Boyle expects to meet you at dinner to-day; he is coming from Athlone on +purpose. Now, good-by!” + </p> +<p> +When my uncle had gone, I sank into a chair and fell into a musing fit +over all the changes a few hours had wrought in me. From a mere boy whose +most serious employment was stocking the house with game or inspecting the +kennel, I had sprung at once into man’s estate, was complimented for my +coolness, praised for my prowess, lauded for my discretion, by those who +were my seniors by nearly half a century; talked to in a tone of +confidential intimacy by my uncle, and, in a word, treated in all respects +as an equal,—and such was all the work of a few hours. But so it is; +the eras in life are separated by a narrow boundary,—some trifling +accident, some casual <i>rencontre</i> impels us across the Rubicon, and +we pass from infancy to youth, from youth to manhood, from manhood to age, +less by the slow and imperceptible step of time than by some one decisive +act or passion which, occurring at a critical moment, elicits a long +latent feeling, and impresses our existence with a color that tinges us +for many a long year. As for me, I had cut the tie which bound me to the +careless gayety of boyhood with a rude gash. In three short days I had +fallen deeply, desperately in love, and had wounded, if not killed, an +antagonist in a duel. As I meditated on these things, I was aroused by the +noise of horses’ feet in the yard beneath. I opened the window and beheld +no less a person than Captain Hammersley. He was handing a card to a +servant, which he was accompanying by a verbal message; the impression of +something like hostility on the part of the captain had never left my +mind, and I hastened down-stairs just in time to catch him as he turned +from the door. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Mr. O’Malley!” said he, in a most courteous tone. “They told me you +were not at home.” + </p> +<p> +I apologized for the blunder, and begged of him to alight and come in. +</p> +<p> +“I thank you very much, but, in fact, my hours are now numbered here. I +have just received an order to join my regiment; we have been ordered for +service, and Sir George has most kindly permitted my giving up my staff +appointment. I could not, however, leave the country without shaking hands +with you. I owe you a lesson in horsemanship, and I’m only sorry that we +are not to have another day together.” + </p> +<p> +“Then you are going out to the Peninsula?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Why, we hope so; the commander-in-chief, they say, is in great want of +cavalry, and we scarcely less in want of something to do. I’m sorry you +are not coming with us.” + </p> +<p> +“Would to Heaven I were!” said I, with an earnestness that almost made my +brain start. +</p> +<p> +“Then, why not?” + </p> +<p> +“Unfortunately, I am peculiarly situated. My worthy uncle, who is all to +me in this world, would be quite alone if I were to leave him; and +although he has never said so, I know he dreads the possibility of my +suggesting such a thing to him: so that, between his fears and mine, the +matter is never broached by either party, nor do I think ever can be.” + </p> +<p> +“Devilish hard—but I believe you are right; something, however, may +turn up yet to alter his mind, and if so, and if you do take to +dragooning, don’t forget George Hammersley will be always most delighted +to meet you; and so good-by, O’Malley, good-by.” + </p> +<p> +He turned his horse’s head and was already some paces off, when he +returned to my side, and in a lower tone of voice said,— +</p> +<p> +“I ought to mention to you that there has been much discussion on your +affair at Blake’s table, and only one opinion on the matter among all +parties,—that you acted perfectly right. Sir George Dashwood,—no +mean judge of such things,—quite approves of your conduct, and, I +believe, wishes you to know as much; and now, once more, good-by.” + </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> +THE ELECTION. +</p> +<p> +The important morning at length arrived, and as I looked from my bed-room +window at daybreak, the crowd of carriages of all sorts and shapes +decorated with banners and placards; the incessant bustle; the hurrying +hither and thither; the cheering as each new detachment of voters came up, +mounted on jaunting-cars, or on horses whose whole caparison consisted in +a straw rope for a bridle, and a saddle of the same frail material,—all +informed me that the election day was come. I lost no further time, but +proceeded to dress with all possible despatch. When I appeared in the +breakfast-room, it was already filled with some seventy or eighty persons +of all ranks and ages, mingled confusedly together, and enjoying the +hospitable fare of my uncle’s house, while they discussed all the details +and prospects of the election. In the hall, the library, the large +drawing-room, too, similar parties were also assembled, and as newcomers +arrived, the servants were busy in preparing tables before the door and up +the large terrace that ran the entire length of the building. Nothing +could be more amusing than the incongruous mixture of the guests, who, +with every variety of eatable that chance or inclination provided, were +thus thrown into close contact, having only this in common,—the +success of the cause they were engaged in. Here was the old Galway squire, +with an ancestry that reached to Noah, sitting side by side with the poor +cotter, whose whole earthly possession was what, in Irish phrase, is +called a “potato garden,”—meaning the exactly smallest possible +patch of ground out of which a very Indian-rubber conscience could presume +to vote. Here sat the old simple-minded, farmer-like man, in close +conversation with a little white-foreheaded, keen-eyed personage, in a +black coat and eye-glass,—a flash attorney from Dublin, learned in +flaws of the registry, and deep in the subtleties of election law. There +was an Athlone horse-dealer, whose habitual daily practices in imposing +the halt, the lame, and the blind upon the unsuspecting, for beasts of +blood and mettle, well qualified him for the trickery of a county contest. +Then there were scores of squireen gentry, easily recognized on common +occasions by a green coat, brass buttons, dirty cords, and dirtier +top-boots, a lash-whip, and a half-bred fox-hound; but now, fresh-washed +for the day, they presented something the appearance of a swell mob, +adjusted to the meridian of Galway. A mass of frieze-coated, brow-faced, +bullet-headed peasantry filled up the large spaces, dotted here and there +with a sleek, roguish-eyed priest, or some low electioneering agent +detailing, for the amusement of the company, some of those cunning +practices of former times which if known to the proper authorities would +in all likelihood cause the talented narrator to be improving the soil of +Sidney, or fishing on the banks of the Swan river; while at the head and +foot of each table sat some personal friend of my uncle, whose ready +tongue, and still readier pistol, made him a personage of some +consequence, not more to his own people than to the enemy. While of such +material were the company, the fare before them was no less varied: here +some rubicund squire was deep in amalgamating the contents of a venison +pasty with some of Sneyd’s oldest claret; his neighbor, less ambitious, +and less erudite in such matters, was devouring rashers of bacon, with +liberal potations of potteen; some pale-cheeked scion of the law, with all +the dust of the Four Courts in his throat, was sipping his humble beverage +of black tea beside four sturdy cattle-dealers from Ballinasloe, who were +discussing hot whiskey punch and <i>spoleaion</i> (boiled beef) at the +very primitive hour of eight in the morning. Amidst the clank of +decanters, the crash of knives and plates, and the jingling of glasses, +the laughter and voices of the guests were audibly increasing; and the +various modes of “running a buck” (<i>Anglicé</i>, substituting a vote), +or hunting a badger, were talked over on all sides, while the price of a +<i>veal</i> (a calf), or a voter, was disputed with all the energy of +debate. +</p> +<p> +Refusing many an offered place, I went through the different rooms in +search of Considine, to whom circumstances of late had somehow greatly +attached me. +</p> +<p> +“Here, Charley,” cried a voice I was very familiar with,—“here’s a +place I’ve been keeping for you.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, Sir Harry, how do you do? Any of that grouse-pie to spare?” + </p> +<p> +“Abundance, my boy; but I’m afraid I can’t say as much for the liquor. I +have been shouting for claret this half-hour in vain,—do get us some +nutriment down here, and the Lord will reward you. What a pity it is,” he +added, in a lower tone, to his neighbor—“what a pity a quart-bottle +won’t hold a quart; but I’ll bring it before the House one of these days.” + That he kept his word in this respect, a motion on the books of the +Honorable House will bear me witness. +</p> +<p> +“Is this it?” said he, turning towards a farmer-like old man, who had put +some question to him across the table; “is it the apple-pie you’ll have?” + </p> +<p> +“Many thanks to your honor,—I’d like it, av it was wholesome.” + </p> +<p> +“And why shouldn’t it be wholesome?” said Sir Harry. +</p> +<p> +“Troth, then, myself does not know; but my father, I heerd tell, died of +an apple-plexy, and I’m afeerd of it.” + </p> +<p> +I at length found Considine, and learned that, as a very good account of +Bodkin had arrived, there was no reason why I should not proceed to the +hustings; but I was secretly charged not to take any prominent part in the +day’s proceedings. My uncle I only saw for an instant,—he begged me +to be careful, avoid all scrapes, and not to quit Considine. It was past +ten o’clock when our formidable procession got under way, and headed +towards the town of Galway. The road was, for miles, crowded with our +followers; banners flying and music playing, we presented something of the +spectacle of a very ragged army on its march. At every cross-road a +mountain-path reinforcement awaited us, and as we wended along, our +numbers were momentarily increasing; here and there along the line, some +energetic and not over-sober adherent was regaling his auditory with a +speech in laudation of the O’Malleys since the days of Moses, and more +than one priest was heard threatening the terrors of his Church in aid of +a cause to whose success he was pledged and bound. I rode beside the +count, who, surrounded by a group of choice spirits, recounted the various +happy inventions by which he had, on divers occasions, substituted a +personal quarrel for a contest. Boyle also contributed his share of +election anecdote, and one incident he related, which, I remember, amused +me much at the time. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0091.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="The Election. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Do you remember Billy Calvert, that came down to contest Kilkenny?” + inquired Sir Harry. +</p> +<p> +“What, ever forget him!” said Considine, “with his well-powdered wig and +his hessians. There never was his equal for lace ruffles and rings.” + </p> +<p> +“You never heard, may be, how he lost the election?” + </p> +<p> +“He resigned, I believe, or something of that sort.” + </p> +<p> +“No, no,” said another; “he never came forward at all. There’s some secret +in it; for Tom Butler was elected without a contest.” + </p> +<p> +“Jack, I’ll tell you how it happened. I was on my way up from Cork, having +finished my own business, and just carried the day, not without a push for +it. When we reached,—Lady Mary was with me,—when we reached +Kilkenny, the night before the election, I was not ten minutes in town +till Butler heard of it, and sent off express to see me; I was at my +dinner when the messenger came, and promised to go over when I’d done. But +faith, Tom didn’t wait, but came rushing up-stairs himself, and dashed +into the room in the greatest hurry. +</p> +<p> +“‘Harry,’ says he, ‘I’m done for; the corporation of free smiths, that +were always above bribery, having voted for myself and my father before, +for four pounds ten a man, won’t come forward under six guineas and +whiskey. Calvert has the money; they know it. The devil a farthing we +have; and we’ve been paying all our fellows that can’t read in Hennesy’s +notes, and you know the bank’s broke this three weeks.’ +</p> +<p> +“On he went, giving me a most disastrous picture of his cause, and +concluded by asking if I could suggest anything under the circumstances. +</p> +<p> +“‘You couldn’t get a decent mob and clear the poll?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I am afraid not,’ said he, despondingly. +</p> +<p> +“‘Then I don’t see what’s to be done, if you can’t pick a fight with +himself. Will he go out?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Lord knows! They say he’s so afraid of that, that it has prevented him +coming down till the very day. But he is arrived now; he came in the +evening, and is stopping at Walsh’s in Patrick Street.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Then I’ll see what can be done,’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Is that Calvert, the little man that blushes when the Lady-Lieutenant +speaks to him?’ said Lady Mary. +</p> +<p> +“‘The very man.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Would it be of any use to you if he could not come on the hustings +to-morrow?’ said she, again. +</p> +<p> +“‘‘Twould gain us the day. Half the voters don’t believe he’s here at all, +and his chief agent cheated all the people on the last election; and if +Calvert didn’t appear, he wouldn’t have ten votes to register. But why do +you ask?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Why, that, if you like, I’ll bet you a pair of diamond ear-rings he +sha’n’t show.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Done!’ said Butler. ‘And I promise a necklace into the bargain, if you +win; but I’m afraid you’re only quizzing me.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Here’s my hand on it,’ said she. ‘And now let’s talk of something +else.’” + </p> +<p> +As Lady Mary never asked my assistance, and as I knew she was very well +able to perform whatever she undertook, you may be sure I gave myself very +little trouble about the whole affair; and when they came, I went off to +breakfast with Tom’s committee, not knowing anything that was to be done. +</p> +<p> +Calvert had given orders that he was to be called at eight o’clock, and so +a few minutes before that time a gentle knock came to the door. +</p> +<p> +‘Come in,’ said he, thinking it was the waiter, and covering himself up in +the clothes; for he was the most bashful creature ever was seen,—‘come +in.’ +</p> +<p> +The door opened, and what was his horror to find that a lady entered in +her dressing-gown, her hair on her shoulders, very much tossed and +dishevelled. The moment she came in, she closed the door and locked it, +and then sat leisurely down upon a chair. +</p> +<p> +Billy’s teeth chattered, and his limbs trembled; for this was an adventure +of a very novel kind for him. At last he took courage to speak. +</p> +<p> +‘I am afraid, madam,’ said he, ‘that you are under some unhappy mistake, +and that you suppose this chamber is—’ +</p> +<p> +‘Mr. Calvert’s,’ said the lady, with a solemn voice, ‘is it not?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, madam, I am that person.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Thank God!’ said the lady, with a very impressive tone. ‘Here I am safe.’ +</p> +<p> +Billy grew very much puzzled at these words; but hoping that by his +silence the lady would proceed to some explanation, he said no more. She, +however, seemed to think that nothing further was necessary, and sat still +and motionless, with her hands before her and her eyes fixed on Billy. +</p> +<p> +“‘You seem to forget me, sir?’ said she, with a faint smile. +</p> +<p> +“‘I do, indeed, madam; the half-light, the novelty of your costume, and +the strangeness of the circumstance altogether must plead for me, if I +appear rude enough.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I am Lady Mary Boyle,’ said she. +</p> +<p> +“‘I do remember you, madam; but may I ask—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, yes; I know what you would ask. You would say, Why are you here? +How comes it that you have so far outstepped the propriety of which your +whole life is an example, that alone, at such a time, you appear in the +chamber of a man whose character for gallantry—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, indeed—indeed, my lady, nothing of the kind!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah, alas! poor defenceless women learn, too late, how constantly +associated is the retiring modesty which decries, with the pleasing powers +which ensure success—’ +</p> +<p> +“Here she sobbed, Billy blushed, and the clock struck nine. +</p> +<p> +“‘May I then beg, madam—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, yes, you shall hear it all; but my poor scattered faculties will +not be the clearer by your hurrying me. You know, perhaps,’ continued she, +‘that my maiden name was Rogers?’ He of the blankets bowed, and she +resumed, ‘It is now eighteen years since, that a young, unsuspecting, fond +creature, reared in all the care and fondness of doting parents, tempted +her first step in life, and trusted her fate to another’s keeping. I am +that unhappy person; the other, that monster in human guise that smiled +but to betray, that won but to ruin and destroy, is he whom you know as +Sir Harry Boyle.’ +</p> +<p> +“Here she sobbed for some minutes, wiped her eyes, and resumed her +narrative. Beginning at the period of her marriage, she detailed a number +of circumstances in which poor Calvert, in all his anxiety to come <i>au +fond</i> at matters, could never perceive bore upon the question in any +way; but as she recounted them all with great force and precision, +entreating him to bear in mind certain circumstances to which she should +recur by and by, his attention was kept on the stretch, and it was only +when the clock struck ten that he was fully aware how his morning was +passing, and what surmises his absence might originate. +</p> +<p> +“‘May I interrupt you for a moment, dear madam? Was it nine or ten o’clock +which struck last?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘How should I know?’ said she, frantically. ‘What are hours and minutes +to her who has passed long years of misery?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Very true, very true,’ replied he, timidly, and rather fearing for the +intellect of his fair companion. +</p> +<p> +She continued. The narrative, however, so far from becoming clearer, grew +gradually more confused and intricate; and as frequent references were +made by the lady to some previous statement, Calvert was more than once +rebuked for forgetfulness and inattention, where in reality nothing less +than short-hand could have borne him through. +</p> +<p> +“‘Was it in ‘93 I said that Sir Harry left me at Tuam?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Upon my life, madam, I am afraid to aver; but it strikes me—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Gracious powers! and this is he whom I fondly trusted to make the +depository of my woes! Cruel, cruel man!’ +</p> +<p> +“Here she sobbed considerably for several minutes, and spoke not. A loud +cheer of ‘Butler forever!’ from the mob without now burst upon their +hearing, and recalled poor Calvert at once to the thought that the hours +were speeding fast and no prospect of the everlasting tale coming to an +end. +</p> +<p> +“‘I am deeply, most deeply grieved, my dear madam,’ said the little man, +sitting up in a pyramid of blankets; ‘but hours, minutes, are most +precious to me this morning. I am about to be proposed as member for +Kilkenny.’ +</p> +<p> +“At these words the lady straightened her figure out, threw her arms at +either side, and burst into a fit of laughter which poor Calvert knew at +once to be hysterics. Here was a pretty situation! The bell-rope lay +against the opposite wall; and even if it did not, would he be exactly +warranted in pulling it? +</p> +<p> +“‘May the devil and all his angels take Sir Harry Boyle and his whole +connection to the fifth generation!’ was his sincere prayer as he sat like +a Chinese juggler under his canopy. +</p> +<p> +“At length the violence of the paroxysm seemed to subside; the sobs became +less frequent, the kicking less forcible, and the lady’s eyes closed, and +she appeared to have fallen asleep. +</p> +<p> +“‘Now is the moment,’ said Billy. ‘If I could only get as far as my +dressing-gown.’ So saying, he worked himself down noiselessly to the foot +of his bed, looked fixedly at the fallen lids of the sleeping lady, and +essayed one leg from the blanket. ‘Now or never,’ said he, pushing aside +the curtain and preparing for a spring. One more look he cast at his +companion, and then leaped forth; but just as he lit upon the floor she +again roused herself, screaming with horror. Billy fell upon the bed, and +rolling himself in the bedclothes, vowed never to rise again till she was +out of the visible horizon. +</p> +<p> +“‘What is all this? What do you mean, sir?’ said the lady, reddening with +indignation. +</p> +<p> +“‘Nothing, upon my soul, madam; it was only my dressing-gown.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Your dressing-gown!’ said she, with an emphasis worthy of Siddons; ‘a +likely story for Sir Harry to believe, sir! Fie, fie, sir!’ +</p> +<p> +“This last allusion seemed a settler; for the luckless Calvert heaved a +profound sigh, and sunk down as if all hope had left him. ‘Butler +forever!’ roared the mob. ‘Calvert forever!’ cried a boy’s voice from +without. ‘Three groans for the runaway!’ answered this announcement; and a +very tender inquiry of, ‘Where is he?’ was raised by some hundred mouths. +</p> +<p> +“‘Madam,’ said the almost frantic listener,—‘madam, I must get up! I +must dress! I beg of you to permit me!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I have nothing to refuse, sir. Alas, disdain has long been my only +portion! Get up, if you will.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘But,’ said the astonished man, who was well-nigh deranged at the +coolness of this reply,—‘but how am I to do so if you sit there?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Sorry for any inconvenience I may cause you; but in the crowded state of +the hotel I hope you see the impropriety of my walking about the passages +in this costume?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And, great God! madam, why did you come out in it?’ +</p> +<p> +“A cheer from the mob prevented her reply being audible. One o’clock +tolled out from the great bell of the cathedral. +</p> +<p> +“‘There’s one o’clock, as I live!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I heard it,’ said the lady. +</p> +<p> +“‘The shouts are increasing. What is that I hear? “Butler is in!” Gracious +mercy! is the election over?’ +</p> +<p> +“The lady stepped to the window, drew aside the curtain, and said, +‘Indeed, it would appear so. The mob are cheering Mr. Butler.’ A deafening +shout burst from the street. ‘Perhaps you’d like to see the fun, so I’ll +not detain you any longer. So, good-by, Mr. Calvert; and as your breakfast +will be cold, in all likelihood, come down to No. 4, for Sir Harry’s a +late man, and will be glad to see you.’” + </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> +AN ADVENTURE. +</p> +<p> +As thus we lightened the road with chatting, the increasing concourse of +people, and the greater throng of carriages that filled the road, +announced that we had nearly reached our destination. +</p> +<p> +“Considine,” said my uncle, riding up to where we were, “I have just got a +few lines from Davern. It seems Bodkin’s people are afraid to come in; +they know what they must expect, and if so, more than half of that barony +is lost to our opponent.” + </p> +<p> +“Then he has no chance whatever.” + </p> +<p> +“He never had, in my opinion,” said Sir Harry. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll see soon,” said my uncle, cheerfully, and rode to the post. +</p> +<p> +The remainder of the way was occupied in discussing the various +possibilities of the election, into which I was rejoiced to find that +defeat never entered. +</p> +<p> +In the goodly days I speak of, a county contest was a very different thing +indeed from the tame and insipid farce that now passes under that name: +where a briefless barrister, bullied by both sides, sits as assessor; a +few drunken voters, a radical O’Connellite grocer, a demagogue priest, a +deputy grand-purple-something from the Trinity College lodge, with some +half-dozen followers, shouting, “To the Devil with Peel!” or “Down with +Dens!” form the whole <i>corp-de-ballet</i>. No, no; in the times I refer +to the voters were some thousands in number, and the adverse parties took +the field, far less dependent for success upon previous pledge or promise +made them than upon the actual stratagem of the day. Each went forth, like +a general to battle, surrounded by a numerous and well-chosen staff,—one +party of friends, acting as commissariat, attended to the victualling of +the voters, that they obtained a due, or rather undue allowance of liquor, +and came properly drunk to the poll; others, again, broke into skirmishing +parties, and scattered over the country, cut off the enemy’s supplies, +breaking down their post-chaises, upsetting their jaunting-cars, stealing +their poll-books, and kidnapping their agents. Then there were +secret-service people, bribing the enemy and enticing them to desert; and +lastly, there was a species of sapper-and-miner force, who invented false +documents, denied the identity of the opposite party’s people, and when +hard pushed, provided persons who took bribes from the enemy, and gave +evidence afterwards on a petition. Amidst all these encounters of wit and +ingenuity, the personal friends of the candidate formed a species of rifle +brigade, picking out the enemy’s officers, and doing sore damage to their +tactics by shooting a proposer or wounding a seconder,—a +considerable portion of every leading agent’s fee being intended as +compensation for the duels he might, could, would, should, or ought to +fight during the election. Such, in brief, was a contest in the olden +time. And when it is taken into consideration that it usually lasted a +fortnight or three weeks; that a considerable military force was always +engaged (for our Irish law permits this), and which, when nothing pressing +was doing, was regularly assailed by both parties; that far more +dependence was placed in a bludgeon than a pistol; and that the man who +registered a vote without a cracked pate was regarded as a kind of natural +phenomenon,—some faint idea may be formed how much such a scene must +have contributed to the peace of the county, and the happiness and welfare +of all concerned in it. +</p> +<p> +As we rode along, a loud cheer from a road that ran parallel to the one we +were pursuing attracted our attention, and we perceived that the cortége +of the opposite party was hastening on to the hustings. I could +distinguish the Blake girls on horseback among a crowd of officers in +undress, and saw something like a bonnet in the carriage-and-four which +headed the procession, and which I judged to be that of Sir George +Dashwood. My heart beat strongly as I strained my eyes to see if Miss +Dashwood was there; but I could not discern her, and it was with a sense +of relief that I reflected on the possibility of our not meeting under +circumstances wherein our feelings and interests were so completely +opposed. While I was engaged in making this survey, I had accidentally +dropped behind my companions; my eyes were firmly fixed upon that +carriage, and in the faint hope that it contained the object of all my +wishes, I forgot everything else. At length the cortége entered the town, +and passing beneath a heavy stone gateway, was lost to my view. I was +still lost in revery, when an under-agent of my uncle’s rode up. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Master Charles!” said he, “what’s to be done? They’ve forgotten Mr. +Holmes at Woodford, and we haven’t a carriage, chaise, or even a car left +to send for him.” + </p> +<p> +“Have you told Mr. Considine?” inquired I. +</p> +<p> +“And sure you know yourself how little Mr. Considine thinks of a lawyer. +It’s small comfort he’d give me if I went to tell him. If it was a case of +pistols or a bullet mould he’d ride back the whole way himself for them.” + </p> +<p> +“Try Sir Harry Boyle, then.” + </p> +<p> +“He’s making a speech this minute before the court-house.” + </p> +<p> +This had sufficed to show me how far behind my companions I had been +loitering, when a cheer from the distant road again turned my eyes in that +direction; it was the Dashwood carriage returning after leaving Sir George +at the hustings. The head of the britska, before thrown open, was now +closed, and I could not make out if any one were inside. +</p> +<p> +“Devil a doubt of it,” said the agent, in answer to some question of a +farmer who rode beside him; “will you stand to me?” + </p> +<p> +“Troth, to be sure I will.” + </p> +<p> +“Here goes, then,” said he, gathering up his reins and turning his horse +towards the fence at the roadside; “follow me now, boys.” + </p> +<p> +The order was well obeyed; for when he had cleared the ditch, a dozen +stout country fellows, well mounted, were beside him. Away they went, at a +hunting pace, taking every leap before them, and heading towards the road +before us. +</p> +<p> +Without thinking further of the matter, I was laughing at the droll effect +the line of frieze coats presented as they rode side by side over the +stone-walls, when an observation near me aroused my attention. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, then, av they know anything of Tim Finucane, they’ll give it up +peaceably; it’s little he’d think of taking the coach from under the judge +himself.” + </p> +<p> +“What are they about, boys?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Goin’ to take the chaise-and-four forninst ye, yer honor,” said the man. +</p> +<p> +I waited not to hear more, but darting spurs into my horse’s sides, +cleared the fence in one bound. My horse, a strong-knit half-breed, was as +fast as a racer for a short distance; so that when the agent and his party +had come up with the carriage, I was only a few hundred yards behind. I +shouted out with all my might, but they either heard not or heeded not, +for scarcely was the first man over the fence into the road when the +postilion on the leader was felled to the ground, and his place supplied +by his slayer; the boy on the wheeler shared the same fate, and in an +instant, so well managed was the attack, the carriage was in possession of +the assailants. Four stout fellows had climbed into the box and the +rumble, and six others were climbing to the interior, regardless of the +aid of steps. By this time the Dashwood party had got the alarm, and +returned in full force, not, however, before the other had laid whip to +the horses and set out in full gallop; and now commenced the most terrific +race I ever witnessed. +</p> +<p> +The four carriage-horses, which were the property of Sir George, were +English thorough-breds of great value, and, totally unaccustomed to the +treatment they experienced, dashed forward at a pace that threatened +annihilation to the carriage at every bound. The pursuers, though well +mounted, were speedily distanced, but followed at a pace that in the end +was certain to overtake the carriage. As for myself, I rode on beside the +road at the full speed of my horse, shouting, cursing, imploring, +execrating, and beseeching at turns, but all in vain; the yells and shouts +of the pursuers and pursued drowned all other sounds, except when the +thundering crash of the horses’ feet rose above all. The road, like most +western Irish roads until the present century, lay straight as an arrow +for miles, regardless of every opposing barrier, and in the instance in +question, crossed a mountain at its very highest point. Towards this +pinnacle the pace had been tremendous; but owing to the higher breeding of +the cattle, the carriage party had still the advance, and when they +reached the top they proclaimed the victory by a cheer of triumph and +derision. The carriage disappeared beneath the crest of the mountain, and +the pursuers halted as if disposed to relinquish the chase. +</p> +<p> +“Come on, boys; never give up,” cried I, springing over into the road, and +heading the party to which by every right I was opposed. +</p> +<p> +It was no time for deliberation, and they followed me with a hearty cheer +that convinced me I was unknown. The next instant we were on the mountain +top, and beheld the carriage half way down beneath us, still galloping at +full stretch. +</p> +<p> +“We have them now,” said a voice behind me; “they’ll never turn Lurra +Bridge, if we only press on.” + </p> +<p> +The speaker was right; the road at the mountain foot turned at a perfect +right angle, and then crossed a lofty one-arched bridge over a mountain +torrent that ran deep and boisterously beneath. On we went, gaining at +every stride; for the fellows who rode postilion well knew what was before +them, and slackened their pace to secure a safe turning. A yell of victory +arose from the pursuers, but was answered by the others with a cheer of +defiance. The space was now scarcely two hundred yards between us, when +the head of the britska was flung down, and a figure that I at once +recognized as the redoubted Tim Finucane, one of the boldest and most +reckless fellows in the county, was seen standing on the seat, holding,—gracious +Heavens! it was true,—holding in his arms the apparently lifeless +figure of Miss Dashwood. +</p> +<p> +“Hold in!” shouted the ruffian, with a voice that rose high above all the +other sounds. “Hold in! or by the Eternal, I’ll throw her, body and bones, +into the Lurra Gash!” for such was the torrent called that boiled and +foamed a few yards before us. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0103.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="The Rescue. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +He had by this time got firmly planted on the hind seat, and held the +drooping form on one arm with all the ease of a giant’s grasp. +</p> +<p> +“For the love of God!” said I, “pull up. I know him well; he’ll do it to a +certainty if you press on.” + </p> +<p> +“And we know you, too,” said a ruffianly fellow, with a dark whisker +meeting beneath his chin, “and have some scores to settle ere we part—” + </p> +<p> +But I heard no more. With one tremendous effort I dashed my horse forward. +The carriage turned an angle of the road, for an instant was out of sight, +another moment I was behind it. +</p> +<p> +“Stop!” I shouted, with a last effort, but in vain. The horses, maddened +and infuriated, sprang forward, and heedless of all efforts to turn them +the leaders sprang over the low parapet of the bridge, and hanging for a +second by the traces, fell with a crash into the swollen torrent beneath. +By this time I was beside the carriage. Finucane had now clambered to the +box, and regardless of the death and ruin around, bent upon his murderous +object, he lifted the light and girlish form above his head, bent +backwards as if to give greater impulse to his effort, when, twining my +lash around my wrist, I levelled my heavy and loaded hunting-whip at his +head. The weighted ball of lead struck him exactly beneath his hat; he +staggered, his hands relaxed, and he fell lifeless to the ground; the same +instant I was felled to the earth by a blow from behind, and saw no more. +</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> +MICKEY FREE. +</p> +<p> +Nearly three weeks followed the event I have just narrated ere I again was +restored to consciousness. The blow by which I was felled—from what +hand coming it was never after discovered—had brought on concussion +of the brain, and for several days my life was despaired of. As by slow +steps I advanced towards recovery, I learned from Considine that Miss +Dashwood, whose life was saved by my interference, had testified, in the +warmest manner, her gratitude, and that Sir George had, up to the period +of his leaving the country, never omitted a single day to ride over and +inquire for me. +</p> +<p> +“You know, of course,” said the count, supposing such news was the most +likely to interest me,—“you know we beat them?” + </p> +<p> +“No. Pray tell me all. They’ve not let me hear anything hitherto.” + </p> +<p> +“One day finished the whole affair. We polled man for man till past two +o’clock, when our fellows lost all patience and beat their tallies out of +the town. The police came up, but they beat the police; then they got +soldiers, but, begad, they were too strong for them, too. Sir George +witnessed it all, and knowing besides how little chance he had of success, +deemed it best to give in; so that a little before five o’clock he +resigned. I must say no man could behave better. He came across the +hustings and shook hands with Godfrey; and as the news of the <i>scrimmage</i> +with his daughter had just arrived, said that he was sorry his prospect of +success had not been greater, that in resigning he might testify how +deeply he felt the debt the O’Malleys had laid him under.” + </p> +<p> +“And my uncle, how did he receive his advances?” + </p> +<p> +“Like his own honest self,—grasped his hand firmly; and upon my +soul, I think he was half sorry that he gained the day. Do you know, he +took a mighty fancy to that blue-eyed daughter of the old general’s. +Faith, Charley, if he was some twenty years younger, I would not say but—Come, +come, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings; but I have been staying here +too long. I’ll send up Mickey to sit with you. Mind and don’t be talking +too much to him.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, the worthy count left the room fully impressed that in hinting +at the possibility of my uncle’s marrying again, he had said something to +ruffle my temper. +</p> +<p> +For the next two or three weeks my life was one of the most tiresome +monotony. Strict injunctions had been given by the doctors to avoid +exciting me; and consequently, every one that came in walked on tiptoe, +spoke in whispers, and left me in five minutes. Reading was absolutely +forbidden; and with a sombre half-light to sit in, and chicken broth to +support nature, I dragged out as dreary an existence as any gentleman west +of Athlone. +</p> +<p> +Whenever my uncle or Considine were not in the room, my companion was my +own servant, Michael, or as he was better known, “Mickey Free.” Now, had +Mickey been left to his own free and unrestricted devices, the time would +not have hung so heavily; for among Mike’s manifold gifts he was possessed +of a very great flow of gossiping conversation. He knew all that was doing +in the county, and never was barren in his information wherever his +imagination could come into play. Mickey was the best hurler in the +barony, no mean performer on the violin, could dance the national bolero +of “Tatter Jack Walsh” in a way that charmed more than one soft heart +beneath a red woolsey bodice, and had, withal, the peculiar free-and-easy +devil-may-care kind of off-hand Irish way that never deserted him in the +midst of his wiliest and most subtle moments, giving to a very deep and +cunning fellow all the apparent frankness and openness of a country lad. +</p> +<p> +He had attached himself to me as a kind of sporting companion; and growing +daily more and more useful, had been gradually admitted to the honors of +the kitchen and the prerogatives of cast clothes, without ever having been +actually engaged as a servant; and while thus no warrant officer, as, in +fact, he discharged all his duties well and punctually, was rated among +the ship’s company, though no one could say at what precise period he +changed his caterpillar existence and became the gay butterfly with cords +and tops, a striped vest, and a most knowing jerry hat who stalked about +the stable-yard and bullied the helpers. Such was Mike. He had made his +fortune, such as it was, and had a most becoming pride in the fact that he +made himself indispensable to an establishment which, before he entered +it, never knew the want of him. As for me, he was everything to me. Mike +informed me what horse was wrong, why the chestnut mare couldn’t go out, +and why the black horse could. He knew the arrival of a new covey of +partridge quicker than the “Morning Post” does of a noble family from the +Continent, and could tell their whereabouts twice as accurately. But his +talents took a wider range than field sports afford, and he was the +faithful chronicler of every wake, station, wedding, or christening for +miles round; and as I took no small pleasure in those very national +pastimes, the information was of great value to me. To conclude this brief +sketch, Mike was a devout Catholic in the same sense that he was +enthusiastic about anything,—that is, he believed and obeyed exactly +as far as suited his own peculiar notions of comfort and happiness. Beyond +<i>that</i>, his scepticism stepped in and saved him from inconvenience; +and though he might have been somewhat puzzled to reduce his faith to a +rubric, still it answered his purpose, and that was all he wanted. Such, +in short, was my valet, Mickey Free, and who, had not heavy injunctions +been laid on him as to silence and discretion, would well have lightened +my weary hours. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, then, Misther Charles!” said he, with a half-suppressed yawn at the +long period of probation his tongue had been undergoing in silence,—“ah, +then, but ye were mighty near it!” + </p> +<p> +“Near what?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Faith, then, myself doesn’t well know. Some say it’s purgathory; but it’s +hard to tell.” + </p> +<p> +“I thought you were too good a Catholic, Mickey, to show any doubts on the +matter?” + </p> +<p> +“May be I am; may be I ain’t,” was the cautious reply. +</p> +<p> +“Wouldn’t Father Roach explain any of your difficulties for you, if you +went over to him?” + </p> +<p> +“Faix, it’s little I’d mind his explainings.” + </p> +<p> +“And why not?” + </p> +<p> +“Easy enough. If you ax ould Miles there, without, what does he be doing +with all the powther and shot, wouldn’t he tell you he’s shooting the +rooks, and the magpies, and some other varmint? But myself knows he sells +it to Widow Casey, at two-and-fourpence a pound; so belikes, Father Roach +may be shooting away at the poor souls in purgathory, that all this time +are enjoying the hoith of fine living in heaven, ye understand.” + </p> +<p> +“And you think that’s the way of it, Mickey?” + </p> +<p> +“Troth, it’s likely. Anyhow, I know its not the place they make it out.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, how do you mean?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, I’ll tell you, Misther Charles; but you must not be saying +anything about it afther, for I don’t like to talk about these kind of +things.” + </p> +<p> +Having pledged myself to the requisite silence and secrecy, Mickey began:— +</p> +<p> +“May be you heard tell of the way my father, rest his soul wherever he is, +came to his end. Well, I needn’t mind particulars, but, in short, he was +murdered in Ballinasloe one night, when he was baitin’ the whole town with +a blackthorn stick he had; more by token, a piece of a scythe was stuck at +the end of it,—a nate weapon, and one he was mighty partial to; but +those murdering thieves, the cattle-dealers, that never cared for +diversion of any kind, fell on him and broke his skull. +</p> +<p> +“Well, we had a very agreeable wake, and plenty of the best of everything, +and to spare, and I thought it was all over; but somehow, though I paid +Father Roach fifteen shillings, and made him mighty drunk, he always gave +me a black look wherever I met him, and when I took off my hat, he’d turn +away his head displeased like. +</p> +<p> +“‘Murder and ages,’ says I, ‘what’s this for?’ But as I’ve a light heart, +I bore up, and didn’t think more about it. One day, however, I was coming +home from Athlone market, by myself on the road, when Father Roach +overtook me. ‘Devil a one a me ‘ill take any notice of you now,’ says I, +‘and we’ll see what’ll come out of it.’ So the priest rid up and looked me +straight in the face. +</p> +<p> +“‘Mickey,’ says he,—‘Mickey.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Father,’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Is it that way you salute your clargy,’ says he, ‘with your caubeen on +your head?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Faix,’ says I, ‘it’s little ye mind whether it’s an or aff; for you +never take the trouble to say, “By your leave,” or “Damn your soul!” or +any other politeness when we meet.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You’re an ungrateful creature,’ says he; ‘and if you only knew, you’d be +trembling in your skin before me, this minute.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Devil a tremble,’ says I, ‘after walking six miles this way.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You’re an obstinate, hard-hearted sinner,’ says he; ‘and it’s no use in +telling you.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Telling me what?’ says I; for I was getting curious to make out what he +meant. +</p> +<p> +“‘Mickey,’ says he, changing his voice, and putting his head down close to +me,—‘Mickey, I saw your father last night.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The saints be merciful to us!’ said I, ‘did ye?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I did,’ says he. +</p> +<p> +“‘Tear an ages,’ says I, ‘did he tell you what he did with the new +corduroys he bought in the fair?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, then, you are a could-hearted creature!’ says he, ‘and I’ll not lose +time with you.’ With that he was going to ride away, when I took hold of +the bridle. +</p> +<p> +“‘Father, darling,’ says I, ‘God pardon me, but them breeches is goin’ +between me an’ my night’s rest; but tell me about my father?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, then, he’s in a melancholy state!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Whereabouts is he?’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘In purgathory,’ says he; ‘but he won’t be there long.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well,’ says I, ‘that’s a comfort, anyhow.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I am glad you think so,’ says he; ‘but there’s more of the other +opinion.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What’s <i>that?</i>’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘That hell’s worse.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, melia-murther!’ says I, ‘is that it?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ay, that’s it.’ +</p> +<p> +“Well, I was so terrified and frightened, I said nothing for some time, +but trotted along beside the priest’s horse. +</p> +<p> +“‘Father,’ says I, ‘how long will it be before they send him where you +know?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘It will not be long now,’ says he, ‘for they’re tired entirely with him; +they’ve no peace night or day,’ says he. ‘Mickey, your father is a mighty +hard man.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘True for you, Father Roach,’ says I to myself; ‘av he had only the ould +stick with the scythe in it, I wish them joy of his company.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Mickey,’ says he, ‘I see you’re grieved, and I don’t wonder; sure, it’s +a great disgrace to a decent family.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Troth, it is,’ says I; ‘but my father always liked low company. Could +nothing be done for him now, Father Roach?’ says I, looking up in the +priest’s face. +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m greatly afraid, Mickey, he was a bad man, a very bad man.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And ye think he’ll go there?’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Indeed, Mickey, I have my fears.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Upon my conscience,’ says I, ‘I believe you’re right; he was always a +restless crayture.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘But it doesn’t depind on him,’ says the priest, crossly. +</p> +<p> +“‘And, then, who then?’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Upon yourself, Mickey Free,’ says he, ‘God pardon you for it, too!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Upon me?’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Troth, no less,’ says he; ‘how many Masses was said for your father’s +soul; how many Aves; how many Paters? Answer me.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Devil a one of me knows!—may be twenty.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Twenty, twenty!—no, nor one.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And why not?’ says I; ‘what for wouldn’t you be helping a poor crayture +out of trouble, when it wouldn’t cost you more nor a handful of prayers?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Mickey, I see,’ says he, in a solemn tone, ‘you’re worse nor a haythen; +but ye couldn’t be other, ye never come to yer duties.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, Father,’ says I, Looking very penitent, ‘how many Masses would get +him out?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Now you talk like a sensible man,’ says he. ‘Now, Mickey, I’ve hopes for +you. Let me see,’ here he went countin’ upon his fingers, and numberin’ to +himself for five minutes. ‘Mickey,’ says he, ‘I’ve a batch coming out on +Tuesday week, and if you were to make great exertions, perhaps your father +could come with them; that is, av they have made no objections.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And what for would they?’ says I; ‘he was always the hoith of company, +and av singing’s allowed in them parts—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘God forgive you, Mickey, but yer in a benighted state,’ says he, +sighing. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well,’ says I, ‘how’ll we get him out on Tuesday week? For that’s +bringing things to a focus.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Two Masses in the morning, fastin’,’ says Father Roach, half aloud, ‘is +two, and two in the afternoon is four, and two at vespers is six,’ says +he; ‘six Masses a day for nine days is close by sixty Masses,—say +sixty,’ says he; ‘and they’ll cost you—mind, Mickey, and don’t be +telling it again, for it’s only to yourself I’d make them so cheap—a +matter of three pounds.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Three pounds!’ says I; ‘be-gorra ye might as well ax me to give you the +rock of Cashel.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m sorry for ye, Mickey,’ says he, gatherin’ up the reins to ride off,—‘I’m +sorry for ye; and the time will come when the neglect of your poor father +will be a sore stroke agin yourself.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Wait a bit, your reverence,’ says I,—‘wait a bit. Would forty +shillings get him out?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Av course it wouldn’t,’ says he. +</p> +<p> +“‘May be,’ says I, coaxing,—‘may be, av you said that his son was a +poor boy that lived by his indhustry, and the times was bad—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Not the least use,’ says he. +</p> +<p> +“‘Arrah, but it’s hard-hearted they are,’ thinks I. ‘Well, see now, I’ll +give you the money, but I can’t afford it all at onst; but I’ll pay five +shillings a week. Will that do?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’ll do my endayvors,’ says Father Roach; ‘and I’ll speak to them to +treat him peaceably in the meantime.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Long life to yer reverence, and do. Well, here now, here’s five hogs to +begin with; and, musha, but I never thought I’d be spending my loose +change that way.’ +</p> +<p> +“Father Roach put the six tinpinnies in the pocket of his black leather +breeches, said something in Latin, bid me good-morning, and rode off. +</p> +<p> +“Well, to make my story short, I worked late and early to pay the five +shillings a week, and I did do it for three weeks regular; then I brought +four and fourpence; then it came down to one and tenpence halfpenny, then +ninepence, and at last I had nothing at all to bring. +</p> +<p> +“‘Mickey Free,’ says the priest, ‘ye must stir yourself. Your father is +mighty displeased at the way you’ve been doing of late; and av ye kept yer +word, he’d be near out by this time.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Troth,’ says I, ‘it’s a very expensive place.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘By coorse it is,’ says he; ‘sure all the quality of the land’s there. +But, Mickey, my man, with a little exertion, your father’s business is +done. What are you jingling in your pocket there?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘It’s ten shillings, your reverence, I have to buy seed potatoes.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Hand it here, my son. Isn’t it better your father would be enjoying +himself in paradise, than if ye were to have all the potatoes in Ireland?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And how do ye know,’ says I, ‘he’s so near out?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘How do I know,—how do I know, is it? Didn’t I see him?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘See him! Tear an ages, was you down there again?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I was,’ says he; ‘I was down there for three quarters of an hour +yesterday evening, getting out Luke Kennedy’s mother. Decent people the +Kennedy’s; never spared expense.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And ye seen my father?’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘I did,’ says he; ‘he had an ould flannel waistcoat on, and a pipe +sticking out of the pocket av it.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘That’s him,’ says I. ‘Had he a hairy cap?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I didn’t mind the cap,’ says he; ‘but av coorse he wouldn’t have it on +his head in that place.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Thrue for you,’ says I. ‘Did he speak to you?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘He did,’ says Father Roach; ‘he spoke very hard about the way he was +treated down there; that they was always jibin’ and jeerin’ him about <i>drink</i>, +and fightin’, and the course he led up here, and that it was a queer +thing, for the matter of ten shillings, he was to be kept there so long.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well,’ says I, taking out the ten shillings and counting it with one +hand, ‘we must do our best, anyhow; and ye think this’ll get him out +surely?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I know it will,’ says he; ‘for when Luke’s mother was leaving the place, +and yer father saw the door open, he made a rush at it, and, be-gorra, +before it was shut he got his head and one shoulder outside av it,—so +that, ye see, a thrifle more’ll do it.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Faix, and yer reverence,’ says I, ‘you’ve lightened my heart this +morning.’ And I put my money back again in my pocket. +</p> +<p> +“‘Why, what do you mean?’ says he, growing very red, for he was angry. +</p> +<p> +“‘Just this,’ says I, ‘that I’ve saved my money; for av it was my father +you seen, and that he got his head and one shoulder outside the door, oh, +then, by the powers!’ says I, ‘the devil a jail or jailer from hell to +Connaught id hould him. So, Father Roach, I wish you the top of the +morning.’ And I went away laughing; and from that day to this I never +heard more of purgathory; and ye see, Master Charles, I think I was +right.” + </p> +<p> +Scarcely had Mike concluded when my door was suddenly burst open, and Sir +Harry Boyle, without assuming any of his usual precautions respecting +silence and quiet, rushed into the room, a broad grin upon his honest +features, and his eyes twinkling in a way that evidently showed me +something had occurred to amuse him. +</p> +<p> +“By Jove, Charley, I mustn’t keep it from you; it’s too good a thing not +to tell you. Do you remember that very essenced young gentleman who +accompanied Sir George Dashwood from Dublin, as a kind of electioneering +friend?” + </p> +<p> +“Do you mean Mr. Prettyman?” + </p> +<p> +“The very man; he was, you are aware, an under-secretary in some +government department. Well, it seems that he had come down among us poor +savages as much from motives of learned research and scientific inquiry, +as though we had been South Sea Islanders; report had gifted us humble +Galwayans with some very peculiar traits, and this gifted individual +resolved to record them. Whether the election week might have sufficed his +appetite for wonders I know not; but he was peaceably taking his departure +from the west on Saturday last, when Phil Macnamara met him, and pressed +him to dine that day with a few friends at his house. You know Phil; so +that when I tell you Sam Burke, of Greenmount, and Roger Doolan were of +the party, I need not say that the English traveller was not left to his +own unassisted imagination for his facts. Such anecdotes of our habits and +customs as they crammed him with, it would appear, never were heard +before; nothing was too hot or too heavy for the luckless cockney, who, +when not sipping his claret, was faithfully recording in his tablet the +mems. for a very brilliant and very original work on Ireland. +</p> +<p> +“Fine country, splendid country; glorious people,—gifted, brave, +intelligent, but not happy,—alas! Mr. Macnamara, not happy. But we +don’t know you, gentlemen,—we don’t indeed,—at the other side +of the Channel. Our notions regarding you are far, very far from just.” + </p> +<p> +“I hope and trust,” said old Burke, “you’ll help them to a better +understanding ere long.” + </p> +<p> +“Such, my dear sir, will be the proudest task of my life. The facts I have +heard here this evening have made so profound an impression upon me that I +burn for the moment when I can make them known to the world at large. To +think—just to think that a portion of this beautiful island should +be steeped in poverty; that the people not only live upon the mere +potatoes, but are absolutely obliged to wear the skins for raiment, as Mr. +Doolan has just mentioned to me!” + </p> +<p> +“‘Which accounts for our cultivation of lumpers,’ added Mr. Doolan, ‘they +being the largest species of the root, and best adapted for wearing +apparel.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I should deem myself culpable—indeed I should—did I not +inform my countrymen upon the real condition of this great country.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Why, after your great opportunities for judging,’ said Phil, ‘you ought +to speak out. You’ve seen us in a way, I may fairly affirm, few Englishmen +have, and heard more.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘That’s it,—that’s the very thing, Mr. Macnamara. I’ve looked at +you more closely; I’ve watched you more narrowly; I’ve witnessed what the +French call your <i>vie intime</i>.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Begad you have,’ said old Burke, with a grin, ‘and profited by it to the +utmost.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’ve been a spectator of your election contests; I’ve partaken of your +hospitality; I’ve witnessed your popular and national sports; I’ve been +present at your weddings, your fairs, your wakes; but no,—I was +forgetting,—I never saw a wake.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Never saw a wake?’ repeated each of the company in turn, as though the +gentleman was uttering a sentiment of very dubious veracity. +</p> +<p> +“‘Never,’ said Mr. Prettyman, rather abashed at this proof of his +incapacity to instruct his English friends upon <i>all</i> matters of +Irish interest. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, then,’ said Macnamara, ‘with a blessing, we’ll show you one. Lord +forbid that we shouldn’t do the honors of our poor country to an +intelligent foreigner when he’s good enough to come among us.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Peter,’ said he, turning to the servant behind him, ‘who’s dead +hereabouts?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Sorra one, yer honor. Since the scrimmage at Portumna the place is +peaceable.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Who died lately in the neighborhood?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The widow Macbride, yer honor.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Couldn’t they take her up again, Peter? My friend here never saw a +wake.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m afeered not; for it was the boys roasted her, and she wouldn’t be a +decent corpse for to show a stranger,’ said Peter, in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Prettyman shuddered at these peaceful indications of the +neighborhood, and said nothing. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, then, Peter, tell Jimmy Divine to take the old musket in my +bedroom, and go over to the Clunagh bog,—he can’t go wrong. There’s +twelve families there that never pay a halfpenny rent; and <i>when it’s +done</i>, let him give notice to the neighborhood, and we’ll have a +rousing wake.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You don’t mean, Mr. Macnamara,—you don’t mean to say—’ +stammered out the cockney, with a face like a ghost. +</p> +<p> +“‘I only mean to say,’ said Phil, laughing, ‘that you’re keeping the +decanter very long at your right hand.’ +</p> +<p> +“Burke contrived to interpose before the Englishman could ask any +explanation of what he had just heard,—and for some minutes he could +only wait in impatient anxiety,—when a loud report of a gun close +beside the house attracted the attention of the guests. The next moment +old Peter entered, his face radiant with smiles. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, what’s that?’ said Macnamara. +</p> +<p> +“‘‘T was Jimmy, yer honor. As the evening was rainy, he said he’d take one +of the neighbors; and he hadn’t to go far, for Andy Moore was going home, +and he brought him down at once.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Did he shoot him?’ said Mr. Prettyman, while cold perspiration broke +over his forehead. ‘Did he murder the man?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Sorra murder,’ said Peter, disdainfully. ‘But why shouldn’t he shoot him +when the master bid him?’ +</p> +<p> +“I needn’t tell you more, Charley; but in ten minutes after, feigning some +excuse to leave the room, the terrified cockney took flight, and offering +twenty guineas for a horse to convey him to Athlone, he left Galway, fully +convinced that they don’t yet know us on the other side of the Channel.” + </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 JOURNEY. +</p> +<p> +The election concluded, the turmoil and excitement of the contest over, +all was fast resuming its accustomed routine around us, when one morning +my uncle informed me that I was at length to leave my native county and +enter upon the great world as a student of Trinity College, Dublin. +Although long since in expectation of this eventful change, it was with no +slight feeling of emotion I contemplated the step which, removing me at +once from all my early friends and associations, was to surround me with +new companions and new influences, and place before me very different +objects of ambition from those I had hitherto been regarding. +</p> +<p> +My destiny had been long ago decided. The army had had its share of the +family, who brought little more back with them from the wars than a short +allowance of members and shattered constitutions; the navy had proved, on +more than one occasion, that the fate of the O’Malleys did not incline to +hanging; so that, in Irish estimation, but one alternative remained, and +that was the bar. Besides, as my uncle remarked, with great truth and +foresight, “Charley will be tolerably independent of the public, at all +events; for even if they never send him a brief, there’s law enough in the +family to last <i>his</i> time,”—a rather novel reason, by-the-bye, +for making a man a lawyer, and which induced Sir Harry, with his usual +clearness, to observe to me:— +</p> +<p> +“Upon my conscience, boy, you are in luck. If there had been a Bible in +the house, I firmly believe he’d have made you a parson.” + </p> +<p> +Considine alone, of all my uncle’s advisers, did not concur in this +determination respecting me. He set forth, with an eloquence that +certainly converted <i>me</i>, that my head was better calculated for +bearing hard knocks than unravelling knotty points, that a shako would +become it infinitely better than a wig; and declared, roundly, that a boy +who began so well and had such very pretty notions about shooting was +positively thrown away in the Four Courts. My uncle, however, was firm, +and as old Sir Harry supported him, the day was decided against us, +Considine murmuring as he left the room something that did not seem quite +a brilliant anticipation of the success awaiting me in my legal career. As +for myself, though only a silent spectator of the debate, all my wishes +were with the count. From my earliest boyhood a military life had been my +strongest desire; the roll of the drum, and the shrill fife that played +through the little village, with its ragged troop of recruits following, +had charms for me I cannot describe; and had a choice been allowed me, I +would infinitely rather have been a sergeant in the dragoons than one of +his Majesty’s learned in the law. If, then, such had been the cherished +feeling of many a year, how much more strongly were my aspirations +heightened by the events of the last few days. The tone of superiority I +had witnessed in Hammersley, whose conduct to me at parting had placed him +high in my esteem; the quiet contempt of civilians implied in a thousand +sly ways; the exalted estimate of his own profession,—at once +wounded my pride and stimulated my ambition; and lastly, more than all, +the avowed preference that Lucy Dashwood evinced for a military life, were +stronger allies than my own conviction needed to make me long for the +army. So completely did the thought possess me that I felt, if I were not +a soldier, I cared not what became of me. Life had no other object of +ambition for me than military renown, no other success for which I cared +to struggle, or would value when obtained. “<i>Aut Caesar aut nullus</i>,” + thought I; and when my uncle determined I should be a lawyer, I neither +murmured nor objected, but hugged myself in the prophecy of Considine that +hinted pretty broadly, “the devil a stupider fellow ever opened a brief; +but he’d have made a slashing light dragoon.” + </p> +<p> +The preliminaries were not long in arranging. It was settled that I should +be immediately despatched to Dublin to the care of Dr. Mooney, then a +junior fellow in the University, who would take me into his especial +charge; while Sir Harry was to furnish me with a letter to his old friend, +Doctor Barret, whose advice and assistance he estimated at a very high +price. Provided with such documents I was informed that the gates of +knowledge were more than half ajar for me, without an effort upon my part. +One only portion of all the arrangements I heard with anything like +pleasure; it was decided that my man Mickey was to accompany me to Dublin, +and remain with me during my stay. +</p> +<p> +It was upon a clear, sharp morning in January, of the year 18—, that +I took my place upon the box-seat of the old Galway mail and set out on my +journey. My heart was depressed, and my spirits were miserably low. I had +all that feeling of sadness which leave-taking inspires, and no sustaining +prospect to cheer me in the distance. For the first time in my life, I had +seen a tear glisten in my poor uncle’s eye, and heard his voice falter as +he said, “Farewell!” Notwithstanding the difference of age, we had been +perfectly companions together; and as I thought now over all the thousand +kindnesses and affectionate instances of his love I had received, my heart +gave way, and the tears coursed slowly down my cheeks. I turned to give +one last look at the tall chimneys and the old woods, my earliest friends; +but a turn of the road had shut out the prospect, and thus I took my leave +of Galway. +</p> +<p> +My friend Mickey, who sat behind with the guard, participated but little +in my feelings of regret. The potatoes in the metropolis could scarcely be +as wet as the lumpers in Scariff; he had heard that whiskey was not +dearer, and looked forward to the other delights of the capital with a +longing heart. Meanwhile, resolved that no portion of his career should be +lost, he was lightening the road by anecdote and song, and held an +audience of four people, a very crusty-looking old guard included, in +roars of laughter. Mike had contrived, with his usual <i>savoir faire</i>, +to make himself very agreeable to an extremely pretty-looking country +girl, around whose waist he had most lovingly passed his arm under +pretence of keeping her from falling, and to whom, in the midst of all his +attentions to the party at large, he devoted himself considerably, +pressing his suit with all the aid of his native minstrelsy. +</p> +<p> +“Hould me tight, Miss Matilda, dear.” + </p> +<p> +“My name’s Mary Brady, av ye plase.” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, and I do plase. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘Oh, Mary Brady, you are my darlin’, +You are my looking-glass from night till morning; +I’d rayther have ye without one farthen, +Nor Shusey Gallagher and her house and garden.’ +</pre> +<p> +May I never av I wouldn’t then; and ye needn’t be laughing.” + </p> +<p> +“Is his honor at home?” + </p> +<p> +This speech was addressed to a gaping country fellow that leaned on his +spade to see the coach pass. +</p> +<p> +“Is his honor at home? I’ve something for him from Mr. Davern.” + </p> +<p> +Mickey well knew that few western gentlemen were without constant +intercourse with the Athlone attorney. The poor countryman accordingly +hastened through the fence and pursued the coach with all speed for above +a mile, Mike pretending all the time to be in the greatest anxiety for his +overtaking them, until at last, as he stopped in despair, a hearty roar of +laughter told him that, in Mickey’s <i>parlance</i>, he was “sould.” + </p> +<p> +“Taste it, my dear; devil a harm it’ll do ye. It never paid the king +sixpence.” + </p> +<p> +Here he filled a little horn vessel from a black bottle he carried, +accompanying the action with a song, the air to which, if any of my +readers feel disposed to sing it, I may observe, bore a resemblance to the +well-known, “A Fig for Saint Denis of France.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +POTTEEN, GOOD LUCK TO YE, DEAR. + +Av I was a monarch in state, +Like Romulus or Julius Caysar, +With the best of fine victuals to eat, +And drink like great Nebuchadnezzar, +A rasher of bacon I’d have, +And potatoes the finest was seen, sir, +And for drink, it’s no claret I’d crave, +But a keg of ould Mullens’s potteen, sir, +With the smell of the smoke on it still. + +They talk of the Romans of ould, +Whom they say in their own times was frisky; +But trust me, to keep out the cowld, +The Romans at home here like whiskey. +Sure it warms both the head and the heart, +It’s the soul of all readin’ and writin’; +It teaches both science and art, +And disposes for love or for fightin’. +Oh, potteen, good luck to ye, dear. +</pre> +<p> +This very classic production, and the black bottle which accompanied it, +completely established the singer’s pre-eminence in the company; and I +heard sundry sounds resembling drinking, with frequent good wishes to the +provider of the feast,—“Long life to ye, Mr. Free,” “Your health and +inclinations, Mr. Free,” etc.; to which Mr. Free responded by drinking +those of the company, “av they were vartuous.” The amicable relations thus +happily established promised a very lasting reign, and would doubtless +have enjoyed such, had not a slight incident occurred which for a brief +season interrupted them. At the village where we stopped to breakfast, +three very venerable figures presented themselves for places in the inside +of the coach; they were habited in black coats, breeches, and gaiters, +wore hats of a very ecclesiastic breadth in their brim, and had altogether +the peculiar air and bearing which distinguishes their calling, being no +less than three Roman Catholic prelates on their way to Dublin to attend a +convocation. While Mickey and his friends, with the ready tact which every +low Irishman possesses, immediately perceived who and what these +worshipful individuals were, another traveller who had just assumed his +place on the outside participated but little in the feelings of reverence +so manifestly displayed, but gave a sneer of a very ominous kind as the +skirt of the last black coat disappeared within the coach. This latter +individual was a short, thick-set, bandy-legged man of about fifty, with +an enormous nose, which, whatever its habitual coloring, on the morning in +question was of a brilliant purple. He wore a blue coat with bright +buttons, upon which some letters were inscribed; and around his neck was +fastened a ribbon of the same color, to which a medal was attached. This +he displayed with something of ostentation whenever an opportunity +occurred, and seemed altogether a person who possessed a most satisfactory +impression of his own importance. In fact, had not this feeling been +participated in by others, Mr. Billy Crow would never have been deputed by +No. 13,476 to carry their warrant down to the west country, and establish +the nucleus of an Orange Lodge in the town of Foxleigh; such being, in +brief, the reason why he, a very well known manufacturer of “leather +continuations” in Dublin, had ventured upon the perilous journey from +which he was now returning. Billy was going on his way to town rejoicing, +for he had had most brilliant success: the brethren had feasted and fêted +him; he had made several splendid orations, with the usual number of +prophecies about the speedy downfall of Romanism, the inevitable return of +Protestant ascendancy, the pleasing prospect that with increased effort +and improved organization they should soon be able to have everything +their own way, and clear the Green Isle of the horrible vermin Saint +Patrick forgot when banishing the others; and that if Daniel O’Connell +(whom might the Lord confound!) could only be hanged, and Sir Harcourt +Lees made Primate of all Ireland, there were still some hopes of peace and +prosperity to the country. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Crow had no sooner assumed his place upon the coach than he saw that +he was in the camp of the enemy. Happily for all parties, indeed, in +Ireland, political differences have so completely stamped the externals of +each party that he must be a man of small penetration who cannot, in the +first five minutes he is thrown among strangers, calculate with +considerable certainty whether it will be more conducive to his happiness +to sing, “Croppies Lie Down,” or “The Battle of Ross.” As for Billy Crow, +long life to him! you might as well attempt to pass a turkey upon M. +Audubon for a giraffe, as endeavor to impose a Papist upon him for a true +follower of King William. He could have given you more generic +distinctions to guide you in the decision than ever did Cuvier to +designate an antediluvian mammoth; so that no sooner had he seated himself +upon the coach than he buttoned up his great-coat, stuck his hands firmly +in his side-pockets, pursed up his lips, and looked altogether like a man +that, feeling himself out of his element, resolves to “bide his time” in +patience until chance may throw him among more congenial associates. +Mickey Free, who was himself no mean proficient in reading a character, at +one glance saw his man, and began hammering his brains to see if he could +not overreach him. The small portmanteau which contained Billy’s wardrobe +bore the conspicuous announcement of his name; and as Mickey could read, +this was one important step already gained. +</p> +<p> +He accordingly took the first opportunity of seating himself beside him, +and opened the conversation by some very polite observation upon the +other’s wearing apparel, which is always in the west considered a piece of +very courteous attention. By degrees the dialogue prospered, and Mickey +began to make some very important revelations about himself and his +master, intimating that the “state of the country” was such that a man of +his way of thinking had no peace or quiet in it. +</p> +<p> +“That’s him there, forenent ye,” said Mickey, “and a better Protestant +never hated Mass. Ye understand.” + </p> +<p> +“What!” said Billy, unbuttoning the collar of his coat to get a fairer +view at his companion; “why, I thought you were—” + </p> +<p> +Here he made some resemblance of the usual manner of blessing oneself. +</p> +<p> +“Me, devil a more nor yourself, Mr. Crow.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, do you know me, too?” + </p> +<p> +“Troth, more knows you than you think.” + </p> +<p> +Billy looked very much puzzled at all this; at last he said,— +</p> +<p> +“And ye tell me that your master there’s the right sort?” + </p> +<p> +“Thrue blue,” said Mike, with a wink, “and so is his uncles.” + </p> +<p> +“And where are they, when they are at home?” + </p> +<p> +“In Galway, no less; but they’re here now.” + </p> +<p> +“Where?” + </p> +<p> +“Here.” + </p> +<p> +At these words he gave a knock of his heel to the coach, as if to intimate +their “whereabouts.” + </p> +<p> +“You don’t mean in the coach, do ye?” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure I do; and troth you can’t know much of the west, av ye don’t +know the three Mr. Trenches of Tallybash!—them’s they.” + </p> +<p> +“You don’t say so?” + </p> +<p> +“Faix, but I do.” + </p> +<p> +“May I never drink the 12th of July if I didn’t think they were priests.” + </p> +<p> +“Priests!” said Mickey, in a roar of laughter,—“priests!” + </p> +<p> +“Just priests!” + </p> +<p> +“Be-gorra, though, ye had better keep that to yourself; for they’re not +the men to have that same said to them.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course I wouldn’t offend them,” said Mr. Crow; “faith, it’s not me +would cast reflections upon such real out-and-outers as they are. And +where are they going now?” + </p> +<p> +“To Dublin straight; there’s to be a grand lodge next week. But sure Mr. +Crow knows better than me.” + </p> +<p> +Billy after this became silent. A moody revery seemed to steal over him; +and he was evidently displeased with himself for his want of tact in not +discovering the three Mr. Trenches of Tallybash, though he only caught +sight of their backs. +</p> +<p> +Mickey Free interrupted not the frame of mind in which he saw conviction +was slowly working its way, but by gently humming in an undertone the +loyal melody of “Croppies Lie Down,” fanned the flame he had so +dexterously kindled. At length they reached the small town of Kinnegad. +While the coach changed horses, Mr. Crow lost not a moment in descending +from the top, and rushing into the little inn, disappeared for a few +moments. When he again issued forth, he carried a smoking tumbler of +whiskey punch, which he continued to stir with a spoon. As he approached +the coach-door he tapped gently with his knuckles; upon which the reverend +prelate of Maronia, or Mesopotamia, I forget which, inquired what he +wanted. +</p> +<p> +“I ask your pardon, gentlemen,” said Billy, “but I thought I’d make bold +to ask you to take something warm this cold day.” + </p> +<p> +“Many thanks, my good friend; but we never do,” said a bland voice from +within. +</p> +<p> +“I understand,” said Billy, with a sly wink; “but there are circumstances +now and then,—and one might for the honor of the cause, you know. +Just put it to your lips, won’t you?” + </p> +<p> +“Excuse me,” said a very rosy-cheeked little prelate, “but nothing +stronger than water—” + </p> +<p> +“Botheration,” thought Billy, as he regarded the speaker’s nose. “But I +thought,” said he, aloud, “that you would not refuse this.” + </p> +<p> +Here he made a peculiar manifestation in the air, which, whatever respect +and reverence it might carry to the honest brethren of 13,476, seemed only +to increase the wonder and astonishment of the bishops. +</p> +<p> +“What does he mean?” said one. +</p> +<p> +“Is he mad?” said another. +</p> +<p> +“Tear and ages,” said Mr. Crow, getting quite impatient at the slowness of +his friends’ perception,—“tear and ages, I’m one of yourselves.” + </p> +<p> +“One of us,” said the three in chorus,—“one of us?” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, to be sure,” here he took a long pull at the punch,—“to be sure +I am; here’s ‘No surrender,’ your souls! whoop—” a loud yell +accompanying the toast as he drank it. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean to insult us?” said Father P———. “Guard, +take the fellow.” + </p> +<p> +“Are we to be outraged in this manner?” chorussed the priests. +</p> +<p> +“‘July the 1st, in Oldbridge town,’” sang Billy, “and here it is, ‘The +glorious, pious, and immortal memory of the great and good—‘” + </p> +<p> +“Guard! Where is the guard?” + </p> +<p> +“‘And good King William, that saved us from Popery—‘” + </p> +<p> +“Coachman! Guard!” screamed Father ———. +</p> +<p> +“‘Brass money—‘” + </p> +<p> +“Policeman! policeman!” shouted the priests. +</p> +<p> +“‘Brass money and wooden shoes;’ devil may care who hears me!” said Billy, +who, supposing that the three Mr. Trenches were skulking the avowal of +their principles, resolved to assert the pre-eminence of the great cause +single-handed and alone. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0126.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Mr. Crow Well Plucked. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“‘Here’s the Pope in the pillory, and the Devil pelting him with +priests.’” + </p> +<p> +At these words a kick from behind apprised the loyal champion that a very +ragged auditory, who for some time past had not well understood the gist +of his eloquence, had at length comprehended enough to be angry. <i>Ce +n’est que le premier pas qui coûte</i>, certainly, in an Irish row. “The +merest urchin may light the train; one handful of mud often ignites a +shindy that ends in a most bloody battle.” + </p> +<p> +And here, no sooner did the <i>vis-a-tergo</i> impel Billy forward than a +severe rap of a closed fist in the eye drove him back, and in one instant +he became the centre to a periphery of kicks, cuffs, pullings, and +haulings that left the poor deputy-grand not only orange, but blue. +</p> +<p> +He fought manfully, but numbers carried the day; and when the coach drove +off, which it did at last without him, the last thing visible to the +outsides was the figure of Mr. Crow,—whose hat, minus the crown, had +been driven over his head down upon his neck, where it remained like a +dress cravat,—buffeting a mob of ragged vagabonds who had so +completely metamorphosed the unfortunate man with mud and bruises that a +committee of the grand lodge might actually have been unable to identify +him. +</p> +<p> +As for Mickey and his friends behind, their mirth knew no bounds; and +except the respectable insides, there was not an individual about the +coach who ceased to think of and laugh at the incident till we arrived in +Dublin and drew up at the Hibernian in Dawson Street. +</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> +DUBLIN. +</p> +<p> +No sooner had I arrived in Dublin than my first care was to present myself +to Dr. Mooney, by whom I was received in the most cordial manner. In fact, +in my utter ignorance of such persons, I had imagined a college fellow to +be a character necessarily severe and unbending; and as the only two very +great people I had ever seen in my life were the Archbishop of Tuam and +the chief-baron when on circuit, I pictured to myself that a university +fellow was, in all probability, a cross between the two, and feared him +accordingly. +</p> +<p> +The doctor read over my uncle’s letter attentively, invited me to partake +of his breakfast, and then entered upon something like an account of the +life before me; for which Sir Harry Boyle had, however, in some degree +prepared me. +</p> +<p> +“Your uncle, I find, wishes you to live in college,—perhaps it is +better, too,—so that I must look out for chambers for you. Let me +see: it will be rather difficult, just now, to find them.” Here he fell +for some moments into a musing fit, and merely muttered a few broken +sentences, as: “To be sure, if other chambers could be had—but then—and +after all, perhaps, as he is young—besides, Frank will certainly be +expelled before long, and then he will have them all to himself. I say, +O’Malley, I believe I must quarter you for the present with a rather wild +companion; but as your uncle says you’re a prudent fellow,”—here he +smiled very much, as if my uncle had not said any such thing,—“why, +you must only take the better care of yourself until we can make some +better arrangement. My pupil, Frank Webber, is at this moment in want of a +‘chum,’ as the phrase is,—his last three having only been +domesticated with him for as many weeks; so that until we find you a more +quiet resting-place, you may take up your abode with him.” + </p> +<p> +During breakfast, the doctor proceeded to inform me that my destined +companion was a young man of excellent family and good fortune who, with +very considerable talents and acquirements, preferred a life of rackety +and careless dissipation to prospects of great success in public life, +which his connection and family might have secured for him. That he had +been originally entered at Oxford, which he was obliged to leave; then +tried Cambridge, from which he escaped expulsion by being rusticated,—that +is, having incurred a sentence of temporary banishment; and lastly, was +endeavoring, with what he himself believed to be a total reformation, to +stumble on to a degree in the “silent sister.” + </p> +<p> +“This is his third year,” said the doctor, “and he is only a freshman, +having lost every examination, with abilities enough to sweep the +university of its prizes. But come over now, and I’ll present you to him.” + </p> +<p> +I followed him down-stairs, across the court to an angle of the old square +where, up the first floor left, to use the college direction, stood the +name of Mr. Webber, a large No. 2 being conspicuously painted in the +middle of the door and not over it, as is usually the custom. As we +reached the spot, the observations of my companion were lost to me in the +tremendous noise and uproar that resounded from within. It seemed as if a +number of people were fighting pretty much as a banditti in a melodrama +do, with considerable more of confusion than requisite; a fiddle and a +French horn also lent their assistance to shouts and cries which, to say +the best, were not exactly the aids to study I expected in such a place. +</p> +<p> +Three times was the bell pulled with a vigor that threatened its downfall, +when at last, as the jingle of it rose above all other noises, suddenly +all became hushed and still; a momentary pause succeeded, and the door was +opened by a very respectable looking servant who, recognizing the doctor, +at once introduced us into the apartment where Mr. Webber was sitting. +</p> +<p> +In a large and very handsomely furnished room, where Brussels carpeting +and softly cushioned sofas contrasted strangely with the meagre and +comfortless chambers of the doctor, sat a young man at a small +breakfast-table beside the fire. He was attired in a silk dressing-gown +and black velvet slippers, and supported his forehead upon a hand of most +lady-like whiteness, whose fingers were absolutely covered with rings of +great beauty and price. His long silky brown hair fell in rich profusion +upon the back of his neck and over his arm, and the whole air and attitude +was one which a painter might have copied. So intent was he upon the +volume before him that he never raised his head at our approach, but +continued to read aloud, totally unaware of our presence. +</p> +<p> +“Dr. Mooney, sir,” said the servant. +</p> +<p> +<i>“Ton dapamey bominos, prosephe, crione Agamemnon”</i> repeated the +student, in an ecstasy, and not paying the slightest attention to the +announcement. +</p> +<p> +“Dr. Mooney, sir,” repeated the servant, in a louder tone, while the +doctor looked around on every side for an explanation of the late uproar, +with a face of the most puzzled astonishment. +</p> +<p> +<i>“Be dakiown para thina dolekoskion enkos”</i> said Mr. Webber, +finishing a cup of coffee at a draught. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Webber, hard at work I see,” said the doctor. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Doctor, I beg pardon! Have you been long here?” said the most soft +and insinuating voice, while the speaker passed his taper fingers across +his brow, as if to dissipate the traces of deep thought and study. +</p> +<p> +While the doctor presented me to my future companion, I could perceive, in +the restless and searching look he threw around, that the fracas he had so +lately heard was still an unexplained and <i>vexata questio</i> in his +mind. +</p> +<p> +“May I offer you a cup of coffee, Mr. O’Malley?” said the youth, with an +air of almost timid bashfulness. “The doctor, I know, breakfasts at a very +early hour.” + </p> +<p> +“I say, Webber,” said the doctor, who could no longer restrain his +curiosity, “what an awful row I heard here as I came up to the door. I +thought Bedlam was broke loose. What could it have been?” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, you heard it too, sir,” said Mr. Webber, smiling most benignly. +</p> +<p> +“Hear it? To be sure I did. O’Malley and I could not hear ourselves +talking with the uproar.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, indeed, it is very provoking; but then, what’s to be done? One can’t +complain, under the circumstances.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, what do you mean?” said Mooney, anxiously. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing, sir; nothing. I’d much rather you’d not ask me; for after all, +I’ll change my chambers.” + </p> +<p> +“But why? Explain this at once. I insist upon it.” + </p> +<p> +“Can I depend upon the discretion of your young friend?” said Mr. Webber, +gravely. +</p> +<p> +“Perfectly,” said the doctor, now wound up to the greatest anxiety to +learn a secret. +</p> +<p> +“And you’ll promise not to mention the thing except among your friends?” + </p> +<p> +“I do,” said the doctor. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then,” said he, in a low and confident whisper, “it’s the dean.” + </p> +<p> +“The dean!” said Mooney, with a start. “The dean! Why, how can it be the +dean?” + </p> +<p> +“Too true,” said Mr. Webber, making a sign of drinking,—“too true, +Doctor. And then, the moment he is so, he begins smashing the furniture. +Never was anything heard like it. As for me, as I am now become a reading +man, I must go elsewhere.” + </p> +<p> +Now, it so chanced that the worthy dean, who albeit a man of most +abstemious habits, possessed a nose which, in color and development, was a +most unfortunate witness to call to character, and as Mooney heard Webber +narrate circumstantially the frightful excesses of the great functionary, +I saw that something like conviction was stealing over him. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll, of course, never speak of this except to your most intimate +friends,” said Webber. +</p> +<p> +“Of course not,” said the doctor, as he shook his hand warmly, and +prepared to leave the room. “O’Malley, I leave you here,” said he; “Webber +and you can talk over your arrangements.” + </p> +<p> +Webber followed the doctor to the door, whispered something in his ear, to +which the other replied, “Very well, I will write; but if your father +sends the money, I must insist—” The rest was lost in protestations +and professions of the most fervent kind, amidst which the door was shut, +and Mr. Webber returned to the room. +</p> +<p> +Short as was the interspace from the door without to the room within, it +was still ample enough to effect a very thorough and remarkable change in +the whole external appearance of Mr. Frank Webber; for scarcely had the +oaken panel shut out the doctor, when he appeared no longer the shy, +timid, and silvery-toned gentleman of five minutes before, but dashing +boldly forward, he seized a key-bugle that lay hid beneath a sofa-cushion +and blew a tremendous blast. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0132.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Frank Webber at his Studies. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Come forth, ye demons of the lower world,” said he, drawing a cloth from +a large table, and discovering the figures of three young men coiled up +beneath. “Come forth, and fear not, most timorous freshmen that ye are,” + said he, unlocking a pantry, and liberating two others. “Gentlemen, let me +introduce to your acquaintance Mr. O’Malley. My chum, gentlemen. Mr. +O’Malley, that is Harry Nesbitt, who has been in college since the days of +old Perpendicular, and numbers more cautions than any man who ever had his +name on the books. Here is my particular friend, Cecil Cavendish, the only +man who could ever devil kidneys. Captain Power, Mr. O’Malley, a dashing +dragoon, as you see; aide-de-camp to his Excellency the Lord Lieutenant, +and love-maker-general to Merrion Square West. These,” said he, pointing +to the late denizens of the pantry, “are jibs whose names are neither +known to the proctor nor the police-office; but with due regard to their +education and morals, we don’t despair.” + </p> +<p> +“By no means,” said Power; “but come, let us resume our game.” At these +words he took a folio atlas of maps from a small table, and displayed +beneath a pack of cards, dealt as if for whist. The two gentlemen to whom +I was introduced by name returned to their places; the unknown two put on +their boxing gloves, and all resumed the hilarity which Dr. Mooney’s +advent had so suddenly interrupted. +</p> +<p> +“Where’s Moore?” said Webber, as he once more seated himself at his +breakfast. +</p> +<p> +“Making a spatch-cock, sir,” said the servant. +</p> +<p> +At the same instant, a little, dapper, jovial-looking personage appeared +with the dish in question. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley, Mr. Moore, the gentleman who, by repeated remonstrances to +the board, has succeeded in getting eatable food for the inhabitants of +this penitentiary, and has the honored reputation of reforming the commons +of college.” + </p> +<p> +“Anything to Godfrey O’Malley, may I ask, sir?” said Moore. +</p> +<p> +“His nephew,” I replied. +</p> +<p> +“Which of you winged the gentleman the other day for not passing the +decanter, or something of that sort?” + </p> +<p> +“If you mean the affair with Mr. Bodkin, it was I.” + </p> +<p> +“Glorious, that; begad, I thought you were one of us. I say, Power, it was +he pinked Bodkin.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, indeed,” said Power, not turning his head from his game, “a pretty +shot, I heard,—two by honors,—and hit him fairly,—the +odd trick. Hammersley mentioned the thing to me.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, is he in town?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“No; he sailed for Portsmouth yesterday. He is to join the llth—game. +I say, Webber, you’ve lost the rubber.” + </p> +<p> +“Double or quit, and a dinner at Dunleary,” said Webber. “We must show +O’Malley,—confound the Mister!—something of the place.” + </p> +<p> +“Agreed.” + </p> +<p> +The whist was resumed; the boxers, now refreshed by a leg of the +spatch-cock, returned to their gloves; Mr. Moore took up his violin; Mr. +Webber his French horn; and I was left the only unemployed man in the +company. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Power, you’d better bring the drag over here for us; we can all go +down together.” + </p> +<p> +“I must inform you,” said Cavendish, “that, thanks to your philanthropic +efforts of last night, the passage from Grafton Street to Stephen’s Green +is impracticable.” A tremendous roar of laughter followed this +announcement; and though at the time the cause was unknown to me, I may as +well mention it here, as I subsequently learned it from my companions. +</p> +<p> +Among the many peculiar tastes which distinguished Mr. Francis Webber was +an extraordinary fancy for street-begging. He had, over and over, won +large sums upon his success in that difficult walk; and so perfect were +his disguises,—both of dress, voice, and manner,—that he +actually at one time succeeded in obtaining charity from his very opponent +in the wager. He wrote ballads with the greatest facility, and sang them +with infinite pathos and humor; and the old woman at the corner of College +Green was certain of an audience when the severity of the night would +leave all other minstrelsy deserted. As these feats of <i>jonglerie</i> +usually terminated in a row, it was a most amusing part of the transaction +to see the singer’s part taken by the mob against the college men, who, +growing impatient to carry him off to supper somewhere, would invariably +be obliged to have a fight for the booty. +</p> +<p> +Now it chanced that a few evenings before, Mr. Webber was returning with a +pocket well lined with copper from a musical <i>reunion</i> he had held at +the corner of York Street, when the idea struck him to stop at the end of +Grafton Street, where a huge stone grating at that time exhibited—perhaps +it exhibits still—the descent to one of the great main sewers of the +city. +</p> +<p> +The light was shining brightly from a pastrycook’s shop, and showed the +large bars of stone between which the muddy water was rushing rapidly down +and plashing in the torrent that ran boisterously several feet beneath. +</p> +<p> +To stop in the street of any crowded city is, under any circumstances, an +invitation to others to do likewise which is rarely unaccepted; but when +in addition to this you stand fixedly in one spot and regard with stern +intensity any object near you, the chances are ten to one that you have +several companions in your curiosity before a minute expires. +</p> +<p> +Now, Webber, who had at first stood still without any peculiar thought in +view, no sooner perceived that he was joined by others than the idea of +making something out of it immediately occurred to him. +</p> +<p> +“What is it, agra?” inquired an old woman, very much in his own style of +dress, pulling at the hood of his cloak. “And can’t you see for yourself, +darling?” replied he, sharply, as he knelt down and looked most intensely +at the sewer. +</p> +<p> +“Are ye long there, avick?” inquired he of an imaginary individual below, +and then waiting as if for a reply, said, +</p> +<p> +“Two hours! Blessed Virgin, he’s two hours in the drain!” + </p> +<p> +By this time the crowd had reached entirely across the street, and the +crushing and squeezing to get near the important spot was awful. +</p> +<p> +“Where did he come from?” “Who is he?” “How did he get there?” were +questions on every side; and various surmises were afloat till Webber, +rising from his knees, said, in a mysterious whisper, to those nearest +him, “He’s made his escape to-night out o’ Newgate by the big drain, and +lost his way; he was looking for the Liffey, and took the wrong turn.” + </p> +<p> +To an Irish mob what appeal could equal this? A culprit at any time has +his claim upon their sympathy; but let him be caught in the very act of +cheating the authorities and evading the law, and his popularity knows no +bounds. Webber knew this well, and as the mob thickened around him +sustained an imaginary conversation that Savage Landor might have envied, +imparting now and then such hints concerning the runaway as raised their +interest to the highest pitch, and fifty different versions were related +on all sides,—of the crime he was guilty of, the sentence that was +passed on him, and the day he was to suffer. +</p> +<p> +“Do you see the light, dear?” said Webber, as some ingeniously benevolent +individual had lowered down a candle with a string,—“do ye see the +light? Oh, he’s fainted, the creature!” A cry of horror burst forth from +the crowd at these words, followed by a universal shout of, “Break open +the street.” + </p> +<p> +Pickaxes, shovels, spades, and crowbars seemed absolutely the walking +accompaniments of the crowd, so suddenly did they appear upon the field of +action; and the work of exhumation was begun with a vigor that speedily +covered nearly half of the street with mud and paving-stones. Parties +relieved each other at the task, and ere half an hour a hole capable of +containing a mail-coach was yawning in one of the most frequented +thoroughfares of Dublin. Meanwhile, as no appearance of the culprit could +be had, dreadful conjectures as to his fate began to gain ground. By this +time the authorities had received intimation of what was going forward, +and attempted to disperse the crowd; but Webber, who still continued to +conduct the prosecution, called on them to resist the police and save the +poor creature. And now began a most terrific fray: the stones, forming a +ready weapon, were hurled at the unprepared constables, who on their side +fought manfully, but against superior numbers; so that at last it was only +by the aid of a military force the mob could be dispersed, and a riot +which had assumed a very serious character got under. Meanwhile Webber had +reached his chambers, changed his costume, and was relating over a +supper-table the narrative of his philanthropy to a very admiring circle +of his friends. +</p> +<p> +Such was my chum, Frank Webber; and as this was the first anecdote I had +heard of him, I relate it here that my readers may be in possession of the +grounds upon which my opinion of that celebrated character was founded, +while yet our acquaintance was in its infancy. +</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> +CAPTAIN POWER. +</p> +<p> +Within a few weeks after my arrival in town I had become a matriculated +student of the university, and the possessor of chambers within its walls +in conjunction with the sage and prudent gentleman I have introduced to my +readers in the last chapter. Had my intentions on entering college been of +the most studious and regular kind, the companion into whose society I was +then immediately thrown would have quickly dissipated them. He voted +morning chapels a bore, Greek lectures a humbug, examinations a farce, and +pronounced the statute-book, with its attendant train of fines and +punishment, an “unclean thing.” With all my country habits and +predilections fresh upon me, that I was an easily-won disciple to his code +need not be wondered at; and indeed ere many days had passed over, my +thorough indifference to all college rules and regulations had given me a +high place in the esteem of Webber and his friends. As for myself, I was +most agreeably surprised to find that what I had looked forward to as a +very melancholy banishment, was likely to prove a most agreeable sojourn. +Under Webber’s directions there was no hour of the day that hung heavily +upon our hands. We rose about eleven and breakfasted, after which +succeeded fencing, sparring, billiards, or tennis in the park; about +three, got on horseback, and either cantered in the Phoenix or about the +squares till visiting time; after which, made our calls, and then dressed +for dinner, which we never thought of taking at commons, but had it from +Morrison’s,—we both being reported sick in the dean’s list, and +thereby exempt from the routine fare of the fellows’ table. In the evening +our occupations became still more pressing; there were balls, suppers, +whist parties, rows at the theatre, shindies in the street, devilled +drumsticks at Hayes’s, select oyster parties at the Carlingford,—in +fact, every known method of remaining up all night, and appearing both +pale and penitent the following morning. +</p> +<p> +Webber had a large acquaintance in Dublin, and soon made me known to them +all. Among others, the officers of the —th Light Dragoons, in which +regiment Power was captain, were his particular friends; and we had +frequent invitations to dine at their mess. There it was first that +military life presented itself to me in its most attractive possible form, +and heightened the passion I had already so strongly conceived for the +army. Power, above all others, took my fancy. He was a gay, +dashing-looking, handsome fellow of about eight-and-twenty, who had +already seen some service, having joined while his regiment was in +Portugal; was in heart and soul a soldier; and had that species of pride +and enthusiasm in all that regarded a military career that forms no small +part of the charm in the character of a young officer. +</p> +<p> +I sat near him the second day we dined at the mess, and was much pleased +at many slight attentions in his manner towards me. +</p> +<p> +“I called on you to-day, Mr. O’Malley,” said he, “in company with a friend +who is most anxious to see you.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed,” said I, “I did not hear of it.” + </p> +<p> +“We left no cards, either of us, as we were determined to make you out on +another day; my companion has most urgent reasons for seeing you. I see +you are puzzled,” said he; “and although I promised to keep his secret, I +must blab. It was Sir George Dashwood was with me; he told us of your most +romantic adventure in the west,—and faith there is no doubt you +saved the lady’s life.” + </p> +<p> +“Was she worth the trouble of it?” said the old major, whose conjugal +experiences imparted a very crusty tone to the question. +</p> +<p> +“I think,” said I, “I need only tell her name to convince you of it.” + </p> +<p> +“Here’s a bumper to her,” said Power, filling his glass; “and every true +man will follow my example.” + </p> +<p> +When the hip-hipping which followed the toast was over, I found myself +enjoying no small share of the attention of the party as the deliverer of +Lucy Dashwood. +</p> +<p> +“Sir George is cudgelling his brain to show his gratitude to you,” said +Power. +</p> +<p> +“What a pity, for the sake of his peace of mind, that you’re not in the +army,” said another; “it’s so easy to show a man a delicate regard by a +quick promotion.” + </p> +<p> +“A devil of a pity for his own sake, too,” said Power, again; “they’re +going to make a lawyer of as strapping a fellow as ever carried a +sabretasche.” + </p> +<p> +“A lawyer!” cried out half a dozen together, pretty much with the same +tone and emphasis as though he had said a twopenny postman; “the devil +they are.” + </p> +<p> +“Cut the service at once; you’ll get no promotion in it,” said the +colonel; “a fellow with a black eye like you would look much better at the +head of a squadron than of a string of witnesses. Trust me, you’d shine +more in conducting a picket than a prosecution.” + </p> +<p> +“But if I can’t?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Then take my plan,” said Power, “and make it cut <i>you</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“Yours?” said two or three in a breath,—“yours?” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, mine; did you never know that I was bred to the bar? Come, come, if +it was only for O’Malley’s use and benefit, as we say in the parchments, I +must tell you the story.” + </p> +<p> +The claret was pushed briskly round, chairs drawn up to fill any vacant +spaces, and Power began his story. +</p> +<p> +“As I am not over long-winded, don’t be scared at my beginning my history +somewhat far back. I began life that most unlucky of all earthly +contrivances for supplying casualties in case anything may befall the heir +of the house,—a species of domestic jury-mast, only lugged out in a +gale of wind,—a younger son. My brother Tom, a thick-skulled, +pudding-headed dog, that had no taste for anything save his dinner, took +it into his wise head one morning that he would go into the army, and +although I had been originally destined for a soldier, no sooner was his +choice made than all regard for my taste and inclination was forgotten; +and as the family interest was only enough for one, it was decided that I +should be put in what is called a ‘learned profession,’ and let push my +fortune. ‘Take your choice, Dick,’ said my father, with a most benign +smile,—‘take your choice, boy: will you be a lawyer, a parson, or a +doctor?’ +</p> +<p> +“Had he said, ‘Will you be put in the stocks, the pillory, or publicly +whipped?’ I could not have looked more blank than at the question. +</p> +<p> +“As a decent Protestant, he should have grudged me to the Church; as a +philanthropist, he might have scrupled at making me a physician; but as he +had lost deeply by law-suits, there looked something very like a lurking +malice in sending me to the bar. Now, so far, I concurred with him; for +having no gift for enduring either sermons or senna, I thought I’d make a +bad administrator of either, and as I was ever regarded in the family as +rather of a shrewd and quick turn, with a very natural taste for roguery, +I began to believe he was right, and that Nature intended me for the +circuit. +</p> +<p> +“From the hour my vocation was pronounced, it had been happy for the +family that they could have got rid of me. A certain ambition to rise in +my profession laid hold on me, and I meditated all day and night how I was +to get on. Every trick, every subtle invention to cheat the enemy that I +could read of, I treasured up carefully, being fully impressed with the +notion that roguery meant law, and equity was only another name for odd +and even. +</p> +<p> +“My days were spent haranguing special juries of housemaids and +laundresses, cross-examining the cook, charging the under-butler, and +passing sentence of death upon the pantry boy, who, I may add, was +invariably hanged when the court rose. +</p> +<p> +“If the mutton were overdone, or the turkey burned, I drew up an +indictment against old Margaret, and against the kitchen-maid as +accomplice, and the family hungered while I harangued; and, in fact, into +such disrepute did I bring the legal profession, by the score of annoyance +of which I made it the vehicle, that my father got a kind of holy horror +of law courts, judges, and crown solicitors, and absented himself from the +assizes the same year, for which, being a high sheriff, he paid a penalty +of five hundred pounds. +</p> +<p> +“The next day I was sent off in disgrace to Dublin to begin my career in +college, and eat the usual quartos and folios of beef and mutton which +qualify a man for the woolsack. +</p> +<p> +“Years rolled over, in which, after an ineffectual effort to get through +college, the only examination I ever got being a jubilee for the king’s +birthday, I was at length called to the Irish bar, and saluted by my +friends as Counsellor Power. The whole thing was so like a joke to me that +it kept me in laughter for three terms; and in fact it was the best thing +could happen me, for I had nothing else to do. The hall of the Four Courts +was a very pleasant lounge; plenty of agreeable fellows that never earned +sixpence or were likely to do so. Then the circuits were so many country +excursions, that supplied fun of one kind or other, but no profit. As for +me, I was what was called a good junior. I knew how to look after the +waiters, to inspect the decanting of the wine and the airing of the +claret, and was always attentive to the father of the circuit,—the +crossest old villain that ever was a king’s counsel. These eminent +qualities, and my being able to sing a song in honor of our own bar, were +recommendations enough to make me a favorite, and I was one. +</p> +<p> +“Now, the reputation I obtained was pleasant enough at first, but I began +to wonder that I never got a brief. Somehow, if it rained civil bills or +declarations, devil a one would fall upon my head; and it seemed as if the +only object I had in life was to accompany the circuit, a kind of +deputy-assistant commissary-general, never expected to come into action. +To be sure, I was not alone in misfortune; there were several promising +youths, who cut great figures in Trinity, in the same predicament, the +only difference being, that they attributed to jealousy what I suspected +was forgetfulness, for I don’t think a single attorney in Dublin knew one +of us. +</p> +<p> +“Two years passed over, and then I walked the hall with a bag filled with +newspapers to look like briefs, and was regularly called by two or three +criers from one court to the other. It never took. Even when I used to +seduce a country friend to visit the courts, and get him into an animated +conversation in a corner between two pillars, devil a one would believe +him to be a client, and I was fairly nonplussed. +</p> +<p> +“‘How is a man ever to distinguish himself in such a walk as this?’ was my +eternal question to myself every morning, as I put on my wig. ‘My face is +as well known here as Lord Manners’s.’ Every one says, ‘How are you, +Dick?’ ‘How goes it, Power?’ But except Holmes, that said one morning as +he passed me, ‘Eh, always busy?’ no one alludes to the possibility of my +having anything to do. +</p> +<p> +“‘If I could only get a footing,’ thought I, ‘Lord, how I’d astonish them! +As the song says:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Perhaps a recruit +Might chance to shoo +Great General Buonaparté.” + </pre> +<p> +So,’ said I to myself, ‘I’ll make these halls ring for it some day or +other, if the occasion ever present itself.’ But, faith, it seemed as if +some cunning solicitor overheard me and told his associates, for they +avoided me like a leprosy. The home circuit I had adopted for some time +past, for the very palpable reason that being near town it was least +costly, and it had all the advantages of any other for me in getting me +nothing to do. Well, one morning we were in Philipstown; I was lying awake +in bed, thinking how long it would be before I’d sum up resolution to cut +the bar, where certainly my prospects were not the most cheering, when +some one tapped gently at my door. +</p> +<p> +“‘Come in,’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“The waiter opened gently, and held out his hand with a large roll of +paper tied round with a piece of red tape. +</p> +<p> +“‘Counsellor,’ said he, ‘handsel.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What do you mean?’ said I, jumping out of bed. ‘What is it, you +villain?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘A brief.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘A brief. So I see; but it’s for Counsellor Kinshella, below stairs.’ +That was the first name written on it. +</p> +<p> +“‘Bethershin,’ said he, ‘Mr. M’Grath bid me give it to you carefully.’ +</p> +<p> +“By this time I had opened the envelope and read my own name at full +length as junior counsel in the important case of Monaghan <i>v</i>. +M’Shean, to be tried in the Record Court at Ballinasloe. ‘That will do,’ +said I, flinging it on the bed with a careless air, as if it were a very +every-day matter with me. +</p> +<p> +“‘But Counsellor, darlin’, give us a thrifle to dhrink your health with +your first cause, and the Lord send you plenty of them!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘My first,’ said I, with a smile of most ineffable compassion at his +simplicity; ‘I’m worn out with them. Do you know, Peter, I was thinking +seriously of leaving the bar, when you came into the room? Upon my +conscience, it’s in earnest I am.’ +</p> +<p> +“Peter believed me, I think, for I saw him give a very peculiar look as he +pocketed his half-crown and left the room. +</p> +<p> +“The door was scarcely closed when I gave way to the free transport of my +ecstasy; there it lay at last, the long looked-for, long wished-for object +of all my happiness, and though I well knew that a junior counsel has +about as much to do in the conducting of a case as a rusty handspike has +in a naval engagement, yet I suffered not such thoughts to mar the current +of my happiness. There was my name in conjunction with the two mighty +leaders on the circuit; and though they each pocketed a hundred, I doubt +very much if they received their briefs with one half the satisfaction. My +joy at length a little subdued, I opened the roll of paper and began +carefully to peruse about fifty pages of narrative regarding a watercourse +that once had turned a mill; but, from some reasons doubtless known to +itself or its friends, would do so no longer, and thus set two respectable +neighbors at loggerheads, and involved them in a record that had been now +heard three several times. +</p> +<p> +“Quite forgetting the subordinate part I was destined to fill, I opened +the case in a most flowery oration, in which I descanted upon the benefits +accruing to mankind from water-communication since the days of Noah; +remarking upon the antiquity of mills, and especially of millers, and +consumed half an hour in a preamble of generalities that I hoped would +make a very considerable impression upon the court. Just at the critical +moment when I was about to enter more particularly into the case, three or +four of the great unbriefed came rattling into my room, and broke in upon +the oration. +</p> +<p> +“‘I say, Power,’ said one, ‘come and have an hour’s skating on the canal; +the courts are filled, and we sha’n’t be missed.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Skate, my dear friend,’ said I, in a most dolorous tone, ‘out of the +question; see, I am chained to a devilish knotty case with Kinshella and +Mills.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Confound your humbugging,’ said another, ‘that may do very well in +Dublin for the attorneys, but not with us.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I don’t well understand you,’ I replied; ‘there is the brief. Hennesy +expects me to report upon it this evening, and I am so hurried.’ +</p> +<p> +“Here a very chorus of laughing broke forth, in which, after several vain +efforts to resist, I was forced to join, and kept it up with the others. +</p> +<p> +“When our mirth was over, my friends scrutinized the red-tape-tied packet, +and pronounced it a real brief, with a degree of surprise that certainly +augured little for their familiarity with such objects of natural history. +</p> +<p> +“When they had left the room, I leisurely examined the all-important +document, spreading it out before me upon the table, and surveying it as a +newly-anointed sovereign might be supposed to contemplate a map of his +dominions. +</p> +<p> +“‘At last,’ said I to myself,—‘at last, and here is the footstep to +the woolsack.’ For more than an hour I sat motionless, my eyes fixed upon +the outspread paper, lost in a very maze of revery. The ambition which +disappointments had crushed, and delay had chilled, came suddenly back, +and all my day-dreams of legal success, my cherished aspirations after +silk gowns and patents of precedence, rushed once more upon me, and I was +resolved to do or die. Alas, a very little reflection showed me that the +latter was perfectly practicable; but that, as a junior counsel, five +minutes of very common-place recitation was all my province, and with the +main business of the day I had about as much to do as the call-boy of a +playhouse has with the success of a tragedy. +</p> +<p> +“‘My Lord, this is an action brought by Timothy Higgin,’ etc., and down I +go, no more to be remembered and thought of than if I had never existed. +How different it would be if I were the leader! Zounds, how I would worry +the witnesses, browbeat the evidence, cajole the jury, and soften the +judges! If the Lord were, in His mercy, to remove old Mills and Kinshella +before Tuesday, who knows but my fortune might be made? This supposition +once started, set me speculating upon all the possible chances that might +cut off two king’s counsel in three days, and left me fairly convinced +that my own elevation was certain, were they only removed from my path. +</p> +<p> +“For two whole days the thought never left my mind; and on the evening of +the second day, I sat moodily over my pint of port, in the Clonbrock Arms, +with my friend Timothy Casey, Captain in the North Cork Militia, for my +companion. +</p> +<p> +“‘Dick,’ said Tim, ‘take off your wine, man. When does this confounded +trial come on?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘To-morrow,’ said I, with a deep groan. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, well, and if it does, what matter?’ he said; ‘you’ll do well +enough, never be afraid.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Alas!’ said I, ‘you don’t understand the cause of my depression.’ I here +entered upon an account of my sorrows, which lasted for above an hour, and +only concluded just as a tremendous noise in the street without announced +an arrival. For several minutes such was the excitement in the house, such +running hither and thither, such confusion, and such hubbub, that we could +not make out who had arrived. +</p> +<p> +“At last a door opened quite near us, and we saw the waiter assisting a +very portly-looking gentleman off with his great-coat, assuring him the +while that if he would only walk into the coffee-room for ten minutes, the +fire in his apartment should be got ready. The stranger accordingly +entered and seated himself at the fireplace, having never noticed that +Casey and myself, the only persons there, were in the room. +</p> +<p> +“‘I say, Phil, who is he?’ inquired Casey of the waiter. +</p> +<p> +“‘Counsellor Mills, Captain,’ said the waiter, and left the room. +</p> +<p> +“‘That’s your friend,’ said Casey. +</p> +<p> +“‘I see,’ said I; ‘and I wish with all my heart he was at home with his +pretty wife, in Leeson Street.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Is she good-looking?’ inquired Tim. +</p> +<p> +“‘Devil a better,’ said I; ‘and he’s as jealous as old Nick.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Hem,’ said Tim, ‘mind your cue, and I’ll give him a start.’ Here he +suddenly changed his whispering tone for one in a louder key, and resumed: +‘I say, Power, it will make some work for you lawyers. But who can she be? +that’s the question.’ Here he took a much crumpled letter from his pocket, +and pretended to read: ‘“A great sensation was created in the neighborhood +of Merrion Square, yesterday, by the sudden disappearance from her house +of the handsome Mrs. ———.” Confound it!—what’s the +name? What a hand he writes! Hill, or Miles, or something like that,—“the +lady of an eminent barrister, now on circuit. The gay Lothario is, they +say, the Hon. George ———.”’ I was so thunderstruck at +the rashness of the stroke, I could say nothing; while the old gentleman +started as if he had sat down on a pin. Casey, meanwhile, went on. +</p> +<p> +“‘Hell and fury!’ said the king’s counsel, rushing over, ‘what is it +you’re saying?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You appear warm, old gentleman,’ said Casey, putting up the letter and +rising from the table. +</p> +<p> +“‘Show me that letter!—show me that infernal letter, sir, this +instant!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Show you my letter,’ said Casey; ‘cool, that, anyhow. You are certainly +a good one.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Do you know me, sir? Answer me that,’ said the lawyer, bursting with +passion. +</p> +<p> +“‘Not at present,’ said Tim, quietly; ‘but I hope to do so in the morning +in explanation of your language and conduct.’ A tremendous ringing of the +bell here summoned the waiter to the room. +</p> +<p> +“‘Who is that—’ inquired the lawyer. The epithet he judged it safe +to leave unsaid, as he pointed to my friend Casey. +</p> +<p> +“‘Captain Casey, sir, the commanding officer here.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Just so,’ said Casey. ‘And very much, at your service any hour after +five in the morning.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Then you refuse, sir, to explain the paragraph I have just heard you +read?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well done, old gentleman; so you have been listening to a private +conversation I held with my friend here. In that case we had better retire +to our room.’ So saying, he ordered the waiter to send a fresh bottle and +glasses to No. 14, and taking my arm, very politely wished Mr. Mills +good-night, and left the coffee-room. +</p> +<p> +“Before we had reached the top of the stairs the house was once more in +commotion. The new arrival had ordered out fresh horses, and was hurrying +every one in his impatience to get away. In ten minutes the chaise rolled +off from the door; and Casey, putting his head out of the window, wished +him a pleasant journey; while turning to me, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“‘There’s one of them out of the way for you, if we are even obliged to +fight the other.’ +</p> +<p> +“The port was soon despatched, and with it went all the scruples of +conscience I had at first felt for the cruel <i>ruse</i> we had just +practised. Scarcely was the other bottle called for when we heard the +landlord calling out in a stentorian voice,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Two horses for Goran Bridge to meet Counsellor Kinshella.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘That’s the other fellow?’ said Casey. +</p> +<p> +“‘It is,’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Then we must be stirring,’ said he. ‘Waiter, chaise and pair in five +minutes,—d’ye hear? Power, my boy, I don’t want you; stay here and +study your brief. It’s little trouble Counsellor Kinshella will give you +in the morning.’ +</p> +<p> +“All he would tell me of his plans was that he didn’t mean any serious +bodily harm to the counsellor, but that certainly he was not likely to be +heard of for twenty-four hours. +</p> +<p> +“‘Meanwhile, Power, go in and win, my boy,’ said he; ‘such another walk +over may never occur.’ +</p> +<p> +“I must not make my story longer. The next morning the great record of +Monaghan <i>v</i>. M’Shean was called on; and as the senior counsel were +not present, the attorney wished a postponement. I, however, was firm; +told the court I was quite prepared, and with such an air of assurance +that I actually puzzled the attorney. The case was accordingly opened by +me in a very brilliant speech, and the witnesses called; but such was my +unlucky ignorance of the whole matter that I actually broke down the +testimony of our own, and fought like a Trojan, for the credit and +character of the perjurers against us! The judge rubbed his eyes; the jury +looked amazed; and the whole bar laughed outright. However, on I went, +blundering, floundering, and foundering at every step; and at half-past +four, amidst the greatest and most uproarious mirth of the whole court, +heard the jury deliver a verdict against us, just as old Kinshella rushed +into the court covered with mud and spattered with clay. He had been sent +for twenty miles to make a will for Mr. Daly, of Daly’s Mount, who was +supposed to be at the point of death, but who, on his arrival, threatened +to shoot him for causing an alarm to his family by such an imputation. +</p> +<p> +“The rest is soon told. They moved for a new trial, and I moved out of the +profession. I cut the bar, for it cut me. I joined the gallant 14th as a +volunteer; and here I am without a single regret, I must confess, that I +didn’t succeed in the great record of Monaghan <i>v</i>. M’Shean.” + </p> +<p> +Once more the claret went briskly round, and while we canvassed Power’s +story, many an anecdote of military life was told, as every instant +increased the charm of that career I longed for. +</p> +<p> +“Another cooper, Major,” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“With all my heart,” said the rosy little officer, as he touched the bell +behind him; “and now let’s have a song.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, Power,” said three or four together; “let us have ‘The Irish +Dragoon,’ if it’s only to convert your friend O’Malley there.” + </p> +<p> +“Here goes, then,” said Dick, taking off a bumper as he began the +following chant to the air of “Love is the Soul of a gay Irishman”:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE IRISH DRAGOON. + +Oh, love is the soul of an Irish dragoon +In battle, in bivouac, or in saloon, +From the tip of his spur to his bright sabretasche. +With his soldierly gait and his bearing so high, +His gay laughing look and his light speaking eye, +He frowns at his rival, he ogles his wench, +He springs in his saddle and <i>chasses</i> the French, +With his jingling spur and his bright sabretasche. + +His spirits are high, and he little knows care, +Whether sipping his claret or charging a square, +With his jingling spur and his bright sabretasche. +As ready to sing or to skirmish he’s found, +To take off his wine or to take up his ground; +When the bugle may call him, how little he fears +To charge forth in column and beat the Mounseers, +With his jingling spur and his bright sabretasche. + +When the battle is over, he gayly rides back +To cheer every soul in the night bivouac, +With his jingling spur and his bright sabretasche. +Oh, there you may see him in full glory crowned, +As he sits ‘midst his friends on the hardly won ground, +And hear with what feeling the toast he will give, +As he drinks to the land where all Irishmen live, +With his jingling spur and his bright sabretasche. +</pre> +<p> +It was late when we broke up; but among all the recollections of that +pleasant evening none clung to me so forcibly, none sank so deeply in my +heart, as the gay and careless tone of Power’s manly voice; and as I fell +asleep towards morning, the words of “The Irish Dragoon” were floating +through my mind and followed me in my dreams. +</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> +THE VICE-PROVOST. +</p> +<p> +I had now been for some weeks a resident within the walls of the +university, and yet had never presented my letter of introduction to Dr. +Barret. Somehow, my thoughts and occupations had left me little leisure to +reflect upon my college course, and I had not felt the necessity suggested +by my friend Sir Harry, of having a supporter in the very learned and +gifted individual to whom I was accredited. How long I might have +continued in this state of indifference it is hard to say, when chance +brought about my acquaintance with the doctor. +</p> +<p> +Were I not inditing a true history in this narrative of my life, to the +events and characters of which so many are living witnesses, I should +certainly fear to attempt anything like a description of this very +remarkable man; so liable would any sketch, however faint and imperfect, +be to the accusation of caricature, when all was so singular and so +eccentric. +</p> +<p> +Dr. Barret was, at the time I speak of, close upon seventy years of age, +scarcely five feet in height, and even that diminutive stature lessened by +a stoop. His face was thin, pointed, and russet-colored; his nose so +aquiline as nearly to meet his projecting chin, and his small gray eyes, +red and bleary, peered beneath his well-worn cap with a glance of mingled +fear and suspicion. His dress was a suit of the rustiest black, +threadbare, and patched in several places, while a pair of large brown +leather slippers, far too big for his feet, imparted a sliding motion to +his walk that added an air of indescribable meanness to his appearance; a +gown that had been worn for twenty years, browned and coated with the +learned dust of the <i>Fagel</i>, covered his rusty habiliments, and +completed the equipments of a figure that it was somewhat difficult for +the young student to recognize as the vice-provost of the university. Such +was he in externals. Within, a greater or more profound scholar never +graced the walls of the college; a distinguished Grecian, learned in all +the refinements of a hundred dialects; a deep Orientalist, cunning in all +the varieties of Eastern languages, and able to reason with a Moonshee, or +chat with a Persian ambassador. With a mind that never ceased acquiring, +he possessed a memory ridiculous for its retentiveness, even of trifles; +no character in history, no event in chronology was unknown to him, and he +was referred to by his contemporaries for information in doubtful and +disputed cases, as men consult a lexicon or dictionary. With an intellect +thus stored with deep and far-sought knowledge, in the affairs of the +world he was a child. Without the walls of the college, for above forty +years, he had not ventured half as many times, and knew absolutely nothing +of the busy, active world that fussed and fumed so near him; his farthest +excursion was to the Bank of Ireland, to which he made occasional visits +to fund the ample income of his office, and add to the wealth which +already had acquired for him a well-merited repute of being the richest +man in college. +</p> +<p> +His little intercourse with the world had left him, in all his habits and +manners, in every respect exactly as when he entered college nearly half a +century before; and as he had literally risen from the ranks in the +university, all the peculiarities of voice, accent, and pronunciation +which distinguished him as a youth, adhered to him in old age. This was +singular enough, and formed a very ludicrous contrast with the learned and +deep-read tone of his conversation; but another peculiarity, still more +striking, belonged to him. When he became a fellow, he was obliged, by the +rules of the college, to take holy orders as a <i>sine qua non</i> to his +holding his fellowship. This he did, as he would have assumed a red hood +or blue one, as bachelor of laws or doctor of medicine, and thought no +more of it; but frequently, in his moments of passionate excitement, the +venerable character with which he was invested was quite forgotten, and he +would utter some sudden and terrific oath, more productive of mirth to his +auditors than was seemly, and for which, once spoken, the poor doctor felt +the greatest shame and contrition. These oaths were no less singular than +forcible; and many a trick was practised, and many a plan devised, that +the learned vice-provost might be entrapped into his favorite exclamation +of, “May the devil admire me!” which no place or presence could restrain. +</p> +<p> +My servant, Mike, who had not been long in making himself acquainted with +all the originals about him, was the cause of my first meeting the doctor, +before whom I received a summons to appear on the very serious charge of +treating with disrespect the heads of the college. +</p> +<p> +The circumstances were shortly these: Mike had, among the other gossip of +the place, heard frequent tales of the immense wealth and great parsimony +of the doctor, and of his anxiety to amass money on all occasions, and the +avidity with which even the smallest trifle was added to his gains. He +accordingly resolved to amuse himself at the expense of this trait, and +proceeded thus. Boring a hole in a halfpenny, he attached a long string to +it, and having dropped it on the doctor’s step stationed himself on the +opposite side of the court, concealed from view by the angle of the +Commons’ wall. He waited patiently for the chapel bell, at the first toll +of which the door opened, and the doctor issued forth. Scarcely was his +foot upon the step, when he saw the piece of money, and as quickly stooped +to seize it; but just as his finger had nearly touched it, it evaded his +grasp and slowly retreated. He tried again, but with the like success. At +last, thinking he had miscalculated the distance, he knelt leisurely down, +and put forth his hand, but lo! it again escaped him; on which, slowly +rising from his posture, he shambled on towards the chapel, where, meeting +the senior lecturer at the door, he cried out, “H——— to +my soul, Wall, but I saw the halfpenny walk away!” + </p> +<p> +For the sake of the grave character whom he addressed, I need not recount +how such a speech was received; suffice it to say, that Mike had been seen +by a college porter, who reported him as my servant. +</p> +<p> +I was in the very act of relating the anecdote to a large party at +breakfast in my rooms, when a summons arrived, requiring my immediate +attendance at the board, then sitting in solemn conclave at the +examination hall. +</p> +<p> +I accordingly assumed my academic costume as speedily as possible, and +escorted by that most august functionary, Mr. M’Alister, presented myself +before the seniors. +</p> +<p> +The members of the board, with the provost at their head, were seated at a +long oak table covered with books, papers, etc., and from the silence they +maintained as I walked up the hall, I augured that a very solemn scene was +before me. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley,” said the dean, reading my name from a paper he held in his +hand, “you have been summoned here at the desire of the vice-provost, +whose questions you will reply to.” + </p> +<p> +I bowed. A silence of a few minutes followed, when, at length, the learned +doctor, hitching up his nether garments with both hands, put his old and +bleary eyes close to my face, while he croaked out, with an accent that no +hackney-coachman could have exceeded in vulgarity,— +</p> +<p> +“Eh, O’Malley, you’re <i>quartus</i>, I believe; a’n’t you?” + </p> +<p> +“I believe not. I think I am the only person of that name now on the +books.” + </p> +<p> +“That’s thrue; but there were three O’Malleys before you. Godfrey +O’Malley, that construed <i>Calve Neroni</i> to Nero the Calvinist,—ha! +ha! ha!—was cautioned in 1788.” + </p> +<p> +“My uncle, I believe, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“More than likely, from what I hear of you,—<i>Ex uno</i>, etc. I +see your name every day on the punishment roll. Late hours, never at +chapel, seldom at morning lecture. Here ye are, sixteen shillings, wearing +a red coat.” + </p> +<p> +“Never knew any harm in that, Doctor.” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, but d’ye see me, now? ‘Grave raiment,’ says the statute. And then, ye +keep numerous beasts of prey, dangerous in their habits, and unseemly to +behold.” + </p> +<p> +“A bull terrier, sir, and two game-cocks, are, I assure you, the only +animals in my household.” + </p> +<p> +“Well. I’ll fine you for it.” + </p> +<p> +“I believe, Doctor,” said the dean, interrupting in an undertone, “that +you cannot impose a penalty in this matter.” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, but I can. ‘Singing-birds,’ says the statute, ‘are forbidden within +the wall.’” + </p> +<p> +“And then, ye dazzled my eyes at Commons with a bit of looking-glass, on +Friday. I saw you. May the devil!—ahem! As I was saying, that’s +casting <i>reflections</i> on the heads of the college; and your servant +it was, <i>Michaelis Liber</i>, Mickey Free,—may the flames of!—ahem!—an +insolent varlet! called me a sweep.” + </p> +<p> +“You, Doctor; impossible!” said I, with pretended horror. +</p> +<p> +“Ay, but d’ye see me, now? It’s thrue, for I looked about me at the time, +and there wasn’t another sweep in the place but myself. Hell to!—I +mean—God forgive me for swearing! but I’ll fine you a pound for +this.” + </p> +<p> +As I saw the doctor was getting on at such a pace, I resolved, +notwithstanding the august presence of the board, to try the efficacy of +Sir Harry’s letter of introduction, which I had taken in my pocket in the +event of its being wanted. +</p> +<p> +“I beg your pardon, sir, if the time be an unsuitable one; but may I take +the opportunity of presenting this letter to you?” + </p> +<p> +“Ha! I know the hand—Boyle’s. <i>Boyle secundus</i>. Hem, ha, ay! +‘My young friend; and assist him by your advice.’ To be sure! Oh, of +course. Eh, tell me, young man, did Boyle say nothing to you about the +copy of Erasmus, bound in vellum, that I sold him in Trinity term, 1782?” + </p> +<p> +“I rather think not, sir,” said I, doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, he might. He owes me two-and-fourpence of the balance.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I beg pardon, sir; I now remember he desired me to repay you that +sum; but he had just sealed the letter when he recollected it.” + </p> +<p> +“Better late than never,” said the doctor, smiling graciously. “Where’s +the money? Ay! half-a-crown. I haven’t twopence—never mind. Go away, +young man; the case is dismissed. <i>Vehementer miror quare hue venisti</i>. +You’re more fit for anything than a college life. Keep good hours; mind +the terms; and dismiss <i>Michaelis Liber</i>. Ha, ha, ha! May the devil!—hem!—that +is do—” So saying, the little doctor’s hand pushed me from the hall, +his mind evidently relieved of all the griefs from which he had been +suffering, by the recovery of his long-lost two-and-four-pence. +</p> +<p> +Such was my first and last interview with the vice-provost, and it made an +impression upon me that all the intervening years have neither dimmed nor +erased. +</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> +TRINITY COLLEGE.—A LECTURE. +</p> +<p> +I had not been many weeks a resident of Old Trinity ere the flattering +reputation my chum, Mr. Francis Webber, had acquired, extended also to +myself; and by universal consent, we were acknowledged the most riotous, +ill-conducted, disorderly men on the books of the university. Were the +lamps of the squares extinguished, and the college left in total darkness, +we were summoned before the dean; was the vice-provost serenaded with a +chorus of trombones and French horns, to our taste in music was the +attention ascribed; did a sudden alarm of fire disturb the congregation at +morning chapel, Messrs. Webber and O’Malley were brought before the board,—and +I must do them the justice to say that the most trifling circumstantial +evidence was ever sufficient to bring a conviction. Reading men avoided +the building where we resided as they would have done the plague. Our +doors, like those of a certain classic precinct commemorated by a Latin +writer, lay open night and day, while mustached dragoons, knowingly +dressed four-in-hand men, fox-hunters in pink, issuing forth to the Dubber +or returning splashed from a run with the Kildare hounds, were +everlastingly seen passing and repassing. Within, the noise and confusion +resembled rather the mess-room of a regiment towards eleven at night than +the chambers of a college student; while, with the double object of +affecting to be in ill-health, and to avoid the reflections that daylight +occasionally inspires, the shutters were never opened, but lamps and +candles kept always burning. Such was No. 2, Old Square, in the goodly +days I write of. All the terrors of fines and punishments fell scathless +on the head of my worthy chum. In fact, like a well-known political +character, whose pleasure and amusement it has been for some years past to +drive through acts of Parliament and deride the powers of the law, so did +Mr. Webber tread his way, serpenting through the statute-book, ever +grazing, but rarely trespassing upon some forbidden ground which might +involve the great punishment of expulsion. So expert, too, had he become +in his special pleadings, so dexterous in the law of the university, that +it was no easy matter to bring crime home to him; and even when this was +done, his pleas of mitigation rarely failed of success. +</p> +<p> +There was a sweetness of demeanor, a mild, subdued tone about him, that +constantly puzzled the worthy heads of the college how the accusations +ever brought against him could be founded on truth; that the pale, +delicate-looking student, whose harsh, hacking cough terrified the +hearers, could be the boisterous performer upon a key-bugle, or the +terrific assailant of watchmen, was something too absurd for belief. And +when Mr. Webber, with his hand upon his heart, and in his most dulcet +accents, assured them that the hours he was not engaged in reading for the +medal were passed in the soothing society of a few select and intimate +friends of literary tastes and refined minds, who, knowing the delicacy of +his health,—here he would cough,—were kind enough to sit up +with him for an hour or so in the evening, the delusion was perfect; and +the story of the dean’s riotous habits having got abroad, the charge was +usually suppressed. +</p> +<p> +Like most idle men, Webber never had a moment to spare. Except read, there +was nothing he did not do; training a hack for a race in the Phoenix, +arranging a rowing-match, getting up a mock duel between two white-feather +acquaintances, were his almost daily avocations. Besides that, he was at +the head of many organized societies, instituted for various benevolent +purposes. One was called “The Association for Discountenancing Watchmen;” + another, “The Board of Works,” whose object was principally devoted to the +embellishment of the university, in which, to do them justice, their +labors were unceasing, and what with the assistance of some black paint, a +ladder, and a few pounds of gunpowder, they certainly contrived to effect +many important changes. Upon an examination morning, some hundred luckless +“jibs” might be seen perambulating the courts, in the vain effort to +discover their tutors’ chambers, the names having undergone an alteration +that left all trace of their original proprietors unattainable: Doctor +Francis Mooney having become Doctor Full Moon; Doctor Hare being, by the +change of two letters, Doctor Ape; Romney Robinson, Romulus and Remus, +etc. While, upon occasions like these, there could be but little doubt of +Master Frank’s intentions, upon many others, so subtle were his +inventions, so well-contrived his plots, it became a matter of +considerable difficulty to say whether the mishap which befell some +luckless acquaintance were the result of design or mere accident; and not +unfrequently well-disposed individuals were found condoling with “Poor +Frank” upon his ignorance of some college rule or etiquette, his breach of +which had been long and deliberately planned. Of this latter description +was a circumstance which occurred about this time, and which some who may +throw an eye over these pages will perhaps remember. +</p> +<p> +The dean, having heard (and, indeed, the preparations were not intended to +secure secrecy) that Webber destined to entertain a party of his friends +at dinner on a certain day, sent a peremptory order for his appearance at +Commons, his name being erased from the sick list, and a pretty strong +hint conveyed to him that any evasion upon his part would be certainly +followed by an inquiry into the real reasons for his absence. What was to +be done? That was the very day he had destined for his dinner. To be sure, +the majority of his guests were college men, who would understand the +difficulty at once; but still there were some others, officers of the +14th, with whom he was constantly dining, and whom he could not so easily +put off. The affair was difficult, but still Webber was the man for a +difficulty; in fact, he rather liked one. A very brief consideration +accordingly sufficed, and he sat down and wrote to his friends at the +Royal Barracks thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Saturday. +DEAR POWER,—I have a better plan for Tuesday than that I +had proposed. Lunch here at three (we’ll call it dinner), in the hall +with the great guns. I can’t say much for the grub; but the +company—glorious! +After that we’ll start for Lucan in the drag; take +our coffee, strawberries, etc., and return to No. 2 for supper at ten. +Advertise your fellows of this change, and believe me, + +Most unchangeably yours, FRANK WEBBER. +</pre> +<p> +Accordingly, as three o’clock struck, six dashing-looking light dragoons +were seen slowly sauntering up the middle of the dining-hall, escorted by +Webber, who, in full academic costume, was leisurely ciceroning his +friends, and expatiating upon the excellences of the very remarkable +portraits which graced the walls. +</p> +<p> +The porters looked on with some surprise at the singular hour selected for +sight-seeing; but what was their astonishment to find that the party, +having arrived at the end of the hall, instead of turning back again, very +composedly unbuckled their belts, and having disposed of their sabres in a +corner, took their places at the Fellows’ table, and sat down amidst the +collective wisdom of Greek lecturers and Regius professors, as though they +had been mere mortals like themselves. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely was the long Latin grace concluded, when Webber, leaning forward, +enjoined his friends, in a very audible whisper, that if they intended to +dine no time was to be lost. +</p> +<p> +“We have but little ceremony here, gentlemen, and all we ask is a fair +start,” said he, as he drew over the soup, and proceeded to help himself. +</p> +<p> +The advice was not thrown away; for each man, with an alacrity a campaign +usually teaches, made himself master of some neighboring dish, a very +quick interchange of good things speedily following the appropriation. It +was in vain that the senior lecturer looked aghast, that the professor of +astronomy frowned. The whole table, indeed, were thunderstruck, even to +the poor vice-provost himself, who, albeit given to the comforts of the +table, could not lift a morsel to his mouth, but muttered between his +teeth, “May the devil admire me, but they’re dragoons!” The first shock of +surprise over, the porters proceeded to inform them that except Fellows of +the University or Fellow-commoners, none were admitted to the table. +Webber however assured them that it was a mistake, there being nothing in +the statute to exclude the 14th Light Dragoons, as he was prepared to +prove. Meanwhile dinner proceeded, Power and his party performing with +great self-satisfaction upon the sirloins and saddles about them, +regretting only, from time to time, that there was a most unaccountable +absence of wine, and suggesting the propriety of napkins whenever they +should dine there again. Whatever chagrin these unexpected guests caused +among their entertainers of the upper table, in the lower part of the hall +the laughter was loud and unceasing; and long before the hour concluded, +the Fellows took their departure, leaving to Master Frank Webber the task +of doing the honors alone and unassisted. When summoned before the board +for the offence on the following morning, Webber excused himself by +throwing the blame upon his friends, with whom, he said, nothing short of +a personal quarrel—a thing for a reading man not to be thought of—could +have prevented intruding in the manner related. Nothing less than <i>his</i> +tact could have saved him on this occasion, and at last he carried the +day; while by an act of the board the 14th Light Dragoons were pronounced +the most insolent corps in the service. +</p> +<p> +An adventure of his, however, got wind about this time, and served to +enlighten many persons as to his real character, who had hitherto been +most lenient in their expressions about him. Our worthy tutor, with a zeal +for our welfare far more praiseworthy than successful, was in the habit of +summoning to his chambers, on certain mornings of the week, his various +pupils, whom he lectured in the books for the approaching examinations. +Now, as these séances were held at six o’clock in winter as well as +summer, in a cold fireless chamber,—the lecturer lying snug amidst +his blankets, while we stood shivering around the walls,—the ardor +of learning must indeed have proved strong that prompted a regular +attendance. As to Frank, he would have as soon thought of attending chapel +as of presenting himself on such an occasion. Not so with me. I had not +yet grown hackneyed enough to fly in the face of authority, and I +frequently left the whist-table, or broke off in a song, to hurry over to +the doctor’s chambers and spout Homer and Hesiod. I suffered on in +patience, till at last the bore became so insupportable that I told my +sorrows to my friend, who listened to me out, and promised me succor. +</p> +<p> +It so chanced that upon some evening in each week Dr. Mooney was in the +habit of visiting some friends who resided a short distance from town, and +spending the night at their house. He, of course, did not lecture the +following morning,—a paper placard, announcing no lecture, being +affixed to the door on such occasions. Frank waited patiently till he +perceived the doctor affixing this announcement upon his door one evening; +and no sooner had he left the college than he withdrew the paper and +departed. +</p> +<p> +On the next morning he rose early, and concealing himself on the +staircase, waited the arrival of the venerable damsel who acted as servant +to the doctor. No sooner had she opened the door and groped her way into +the sitting-room than Frank crept forward, and stealing gently into the +bedroom, sprang into the bed and wrapped himself up in the blankets. The +great bell boomed forth at six o’clock, and soon after the sounds of the +feet were heard upon the stairs. One by one they came along, and gradually +the room was filled with cold and shivering wretches, more than half +asleep, and trying to arouse themselves into an approach to attention. +</p> +<p> +“Who’s there?” said Frank, mimicking the doctor’s voice, as he yawned +three or four times in succession and turned in the bed. +</p> +<p> +“Collisson, O’Malley, Nesbitt,” etc., said a number of voices, anxious to +have all the merit such a penance could confer. +</p> +<p> +“Where’s Webber?” + </p> +<p> +“Absent, sir,” chorussed the whole party. +</p> +<p> +“Sorry for it,” said the mock doctor. “Webber is a man of first-rate +capacity; and were he only to apply, I am not certain to what eminence his +abilities might raise him. Come, Collisson, any three angles of a triangle +are equal to—are equal to—what are they equal to?” Here he +yawned as though he would dislocate his jaw. +</p> +<p> +“Any three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles,” said +Collisson, in the usual sing-song tone of a freshman. +</p> +<p> +As he proceeded to prove the proposition, his monotonous tone seemed to +have lulled the doctor into a doze, for in a few minutes a deep, +long-drawn snore announced from the closed curtains that he listened no +longer. After a little time, however, a short snort from the sleeper awoke +him suddenly, and he called out, “Go on, I’m waiting. Do you think I can +arouse at this hour of the morning for nothing but to listen to your +bungling? Can no one give me a free translation of the passage?” + </p> +<p> +This digression from mathematics to classics did not surprise the hearers, +though it somewhat confused them, no one being precisely aware what the +line in question might be. +</p> +<p> +“Try it, Nesbitt,—you, O’Malley. Silent all? Really this is too +bad!” An indistinct muttering here from the crowd was followed by an +announcement from the doctor that the speaker was an ass, and his head a +turnip! “Not one of you capable of translating a chorus from Euripides,—‘Ou, +ou, papai, papai,’ etc.; which, after all, means no more than, ‘Oh, +whilleleu, murder, why did you die!’ etc. What are you laughing at, +gentlemen? May I ask, does it become a set of ignorant, ill-informed +savages—yes, savages, I repeat the word—to behave in this +manner? Webber is the only man I have with common intellect,—the +only man among you capable of distinguishing himself. But as for you, I’ll +bring you before the board; I’ll write to your friends; I’ll stop your +college indulgences; I’ll confine you to the walls; I’ll be damned, eh—” + </p> +<p> +This lapse confused him. He stammered, stuttered, endeavored to recover +himself; but by this time we had approached the bed, just at the moment +when Master Frank, well knowing what he might expect if detected, had +bolted from the blankets and rushed from the room. In an instant we were +in pursuit; but he regained his chambers, and double-locked the door +before we could overtake him, leaving us to ponder over the insolent +tirade we had so patiently submitted to. +</p> +<p> +That morning the affair got wind all over college. As for us, we were +scarcely so much laughed at as the doctor; the world wisely remembering, +if such were the nature of our morning’s orisons, we might nearly as +profitably have remained snug in our quarters. +</p> +<p> +Such was our life in Old Trinity; and strange enough it is that one should +feel tempted to the confession, but I really must acknowledge these were, +after all, happy times, and I look back upon them with mingled pleasure +and sadness. The noble lord who so pathetically lamented that the devil +was not so strong in him as he used to be forty years before, has an echo +in my regrets that the student is not as young in me as when these scenes +were enacting of which I write. +</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 INVITATION.—THE WAGER. +</p> +<p> +I was sitting at breakfast with Webber, a few mornings after the mess +dinner I have spoken of, when Power came in hastily. +</p> +<p> +“Ha, the very man!” said he. “I say, O’Malley, here’s an invitation for +you from Sir George, to dine on Friday. He desired me to say a thousand +civil things about his not having made you out, regrets that he was not at +home when you called yesterday, and all that. By Jove, I know nothing like +the favor you stand in; and as for Miss Dashwood, faith! the fair Lucy +blushed, and tore her glove in most approved style, when the old general +began his laudation of you.” + </p> +<p> +“Pooh, nonsense,” said I; “that silly affair in the west.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, very probably; there’s reason the less for you looking so excessively +conscious. But I must tell you, in all fairness, that you have no chance; +nothing short of a dragoon will go down.” + </p> +<p> +“Be assured,” said I, somewhat nettled, “my pretensions do not aspire to +the fair Miss Dashwood.” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Tant mieux et tant pis, mon cher</i>. I wish to Heaven mine did; and, +by Saint Patrick, if I only played the knight-errant half as gallantly as +yourself, I would not relinquish my claims to the Secretary at War +himself.” + </p> +<p> +“What the devil brought the old general down to your wild regions?” + inquired Webber. +</p> +<p> +“To contest the county.” + </p> +<p> +“A bright thought, truly. When a man was looking for a seat, why not try a +place where the law is occasionally heard of?” + </p> +<p> +“I’m sure I can give you no information on that head; nor have I ever +heard how Sir George came to learn that such a place as Galway existed.” + </p> +<p> +“I believe I can enlighten you,” said Power. “Lady Dashwood—rest her +soul!—came west of the Shannon; she had a large property somewhere +in Mayo, and owned some hundred acres of swamp, with some thousand +starving tenantry thereupon, that people dignified as an estate in +Connaught. This first suggested to him the notion of setting up for the +county, probably supposing that the people who never paid in rent might +like to do so in gratitude. How he was undeceived, O’Malley there can +inform us. Indeed, I believe the worthy general, who was confoundedly hard +up when he married, expected to have got a great fortune, and little +anticipated the three chancery suits he succeeded to, nor the fourteen +rent-charges to his wife’s relatives that made up the bulk of the dower. +It was an unlucky hit for him when he fell in with the old ‘maid’ at Bath; +and had she lived, he must have gone to the colonies. But the Lord took +her one day, and Major Dashwood was himself again. The Duke of York, the +story goes, saw him at Hounslow during a review, was much struck with his +air and appearance, made some inquiries, found him to be of excellent +family and irreproachable conduct, made him an aide-de-camp, and, in fact, +made his fortune. I do not believe that, while doing so kind, he could by +possibility have done a more popular thing. Every man in the army rejoiced +at his good fortune; so that, after all, though he has had some hard rubs, +he has come well through, the only vestige of his unfortunate matrimonial +connection being a correspondence kept up by a maiden sister of his late +wife’s with him. She insists upon claiming the ties of kindred upon about +twenty family eras during the year, when she regularly writes a most +loving and ill-spelled epistle, containing the latest information from +Mayo, with all particulars of the Macan family, of which she is a worthy +member. To her constant hints of the acceptable nature of certain small +remittances, the poor general is never inattentive; but to the pleasing +prospect of a visit in the flesh from Miss Judy Macan, the good man is +dead. In fact, nothing short of being broke by general court-martial could +complete his sensations of horror at such a stroke of fortune; and I am +not certain, if choice were allowed him, that he would not prefer the +latter.” + </p> +<p> +“Then he has never yet seen her?” said Webber. +</p> +<p> +“Never,” replied Power; “and he hopes to leave Ireland without that +blessing, the prospect of which, however remote and unlikely, has, I know +well, more than once terrified him since his arrival.” + </p> +<p> +“I say, Power, and has your worthy general sent me a card for his ball?” + </p> +<p> +“Not through me, Master Frank.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, now, I call that devilish shabby, do you know. He asks O’Malley +there from <i>my</i> chambers, and never notices the other man, the +superior in the firm. Eh, O’Malley, what say you?” + </p> +<p> +“Why, I didn’t know you were acquainted.” + </p> +<p> +“And who said we were? It was his fault, though, entirely, that we were +not. I am, as I have ever been, the most easy fellow in the world on that +score, never give myself airs to military people, endure anything, +everything, and you see the result; hard, ain’t it?” + </p> +<p> +“But, Webber, Sir George must really be excused in this matter. He has a +daughter, a most attractive, lovely daughter, just at that budding, +unsuspecting age when the heart is most susceptible of impressions; and +where, let me ask, could she run such a risk as in the chance of a casual +meeting with the redoubted lady-killer, Master Frank Webber? If he has not +sought you out, then here be his apology.” + </p> +<p> +“A very strong case, certainly,” said Frank; “but, still, had he confided +his critical position to my honor and secrecy, he might have depended on +me; now, having taken the other line—” + </p> +<p> +“Well, what then?” + </p> +<p> +“Why, he must abide the consequences. I’ll make fierce love to Louisa; +isn’t that the name?” + </p> +<p> +“Lucy, so please you.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, be it so,—to Lucy,—talk the little girl into a most +deplorable attachment for me.” + </p> +<p> +“But, how, may I ask, and when?” + </p> +<p> +“I’ll begin at the ball, man.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, I thought you said you were not going?” + </p> +<p> +“There you mistake seriously. I merely said that I had not been invited.” + </p> +<p> +“Then, of course,” said I, “Webber, you can’t think of going, in any case, +on <i>my</i> account.” + </p> +<p> +“My very dear friend, I go entirely upon my own. I not only shall go, but +I intend to have most particular notice and attention paid me. I shall be +prime favorite with Sir George, kiss Lucy—” + </p> +<p> +“Come, come, this is too strong.” + </p> +<p> +“What do you bet I don’t? There, now, I’ll give you a pony apiece, I do. +Do you say done?” + </p> +<p> +“That you kiss Miss Dashwood, and are not kicked down-stairs for your +pains; are those the terms of the wager?” inquired Power. +</p> +<p> +“With all my heart. That I kiss Miss Dashwood, and am not kicked +down-stairs for my pains.” + </p> +<p> +“Then, I say, done.” + </p> +<p> +“And with you, too, O’Malley?” + </p> +<p> +“I thank you,” said I, coldly; “I am not disposed to make such a return +for Sir George Dashwood’s hospitality as to make an insult to his family +the subject of a bet.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, man, what are you dreaming of? Miss Dashwood will not refuse my +chaste salute. Come, Power, I’ll give you the other pony.” + </p> +<p> +“Agreed,” said he. “At the same time, understand me distinctly, that I +hold myself perfectly eligible to winning the wager by my own +interference; for if you do kiss her, by Jove! I’ll perform the remainder +of the compact.” + </p> +<p> +“So I understand the agreement,” said Webber, arranging his curls before +the looking-glass. “Well, now, who’s for Howth? The drag will be here in +half an hour.” + </p> +<p> +“Not I,” said Power; “I must return to the barracks.” + </p> +<p> +“Nor I,” said I, “for I shall take this opportunity of leaving my card at +Sir George Dashwood’s.” + </p> +<p> +“I have won my fifty, however,” said Power, as we walked out in the +courts. +</p> +<p> +“I am not quite certain—” + </p> +<p> +“Why, the devil, he would not risk a broken neck for that sum; besides, if +he did, he loses the bet.” + </p> +<p> +“He’s a devilish keen fellow.” + </p> +<p> +“Let him be. In any case I am determined to be on my guard here.” + </p> +<p> +So chatting, we strolled along to the Royal Hospital, when, having dropped +my pasteboard, I returned to the college. +</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 BALL. +</p> +<p> +I have often dressed for a storming party with less of trepidation than I +felt on the evening of Sir George Dashwood’s ball. Since the eventful day +of the election I had never seen Miss Dashwood; therefore, as to what +precise position I might occupy in her favor was a matter of great doubt +in my mind, and great import to my happiness. That I myself loved her, was +a matter of which all the badinage of my friends regarding her made me +painfully conscious; but that, in our relative positions, such an +attachment was all but hopeless, I could not disguise from myself. Young +as I was, I well knew to what a heritage of debt, lawsuit, and difficulty +I was born to succeed. In my own resources and means of advancement I had +no confidence whatever, had even the profession to which I was destined +been more of my choice. I daily felt that it demanded greater exertions, +if not far greater abilities, than I could command, to make success at all +likely; and then, even if such a result were in store, years, at least, +must elapse before it could happen; and where would she then be, and where +should I? Where the ardent affection I now felt and gloried in,—perhaps +all the more for its desperate hopelessness,—when the sanguine and +buoyant spirit to combat with difficulties which youth suggests, and +which, later, manhood refuses, should have passed away? And even if all +these survived the toil and labor of anxious days and painful nights, what +of her? Alas, I now reflected that, although only of my own age, her +manner to me had taken all that tone of superiority and patronage which an +elder assumes towards one younger, and which, in the spirit of protection +it proceeds upon, essentially bars up every inlet to a dearer or warmer +feeling,—at least, when the lady plays the former part. “What, then, +is to be done?” thought I. “Forget her?—but how? How shall I +renounce all my plans, and unweave the web of life I have been spreading +around me for many a day, without that one golden thread that lent it more +than half its brilliancy and all its attraction? But then the alternative +is even worse, if I encourage expectations and nurture hopes never to be +realized. Well, we meet to-night, after a long and eventful absence; let +my future fate be ruled by the results of this meeting. If Lucy Dashwood +does care for me, if I can detect in her manner enough to show me that my +affection may meet a return, the whole effort of my life shall be to make +her mine; if not, if my own feelings be all that I have to depend upon to +extort a reciprocal affection, then shall I take my last look of her, and +with it the first and brightest dream of happiness my life has hitherto +presented.” + </p> +<hr /> +<p> +It need not be wondered at if the brilliant <i>coup d’oeil</i> of the +ball-room, as I entered, struck me with astonishment, accustomed as I had +hitherto been to nothing more magnificent than an evening party of squires +and their squiresses or the annual garrison ball at the barracks. The +glare of wax-lights, the well-furnished saloons, the glitter of uniforms, +and the blaze of plumed and jewelled dames, with the clang of military +music, was a species of enchanted atmosphere which, breathing for the +first time, rarely fails to intoxicate. Never before had I seen so much +beauty. Lovely faces, dressed in all the seductive flattery of smiles, +were on every side; and as I walked from room to room, I felt how much +more fatal to a man’s peace and heart’s ease the whispered words and +silent glances of those fair damsels, than all the loud gayety and +boisterous freedom of our country belles, who sought to take the heart by +storm and escalade. +</p> +<p> +As yet I had seen neither Sir George nor his daughter, and while I looked +on every side for Lucy Dashwood, it was with a beating and anxious heart I +longed to see how she would bear comparison with the blaze of beauty +around. +</p> +<p> +Just at this moment a very gorgeously dressed hussar stepped from a +doorway beside me, as if to make a passage for some one, and the next +moment she appeared leaning upon the arm of another lady. One look was all +that I had time for, when she recognized me. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Mr. O’Malley, how happy—has Sir George—has my father seen +you?” + </p> +<p> +“I have only arrived this moment; I trust he is quite well?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, thank you—” + </p> +<p> +“I beg your pardon with all humility, Miss Dashwood,” said the hussar, in +a tone of the most knightly courtesy, “but they are waiting for us.” + </p> +<p> +“But, Captain Fortescue, you must excuse me one moment more. Mr. Lechmere, +will you do me the kindness to find out Sir George? Mr. O’Malley—Mr. +Lechmere.” Here she said something in French to her companion, but so +rapidly that I could not detect what it was, but merely heard the reply, +<i>“Pas mal!”</i>—which, as the lady continued to canvass me most +deliberately through her eye-glass, I supposed referred to me. “And now, +Captain Fortescue—” And with a look of most courteous kindness to me +she disappeared in the crowd. +</p> +<p> +The gentleman to whose guidance I was entrusted was one of the +aides-de-camp, and was not long in finding Sir George. No sooner had the +good old general heard my name, than he held out both his hands and shook +mine most heartily. +</p> +<p> +“At last, O’Malley; at last I am able to thank you for the greatest +service ever man rendered me. He saved Lucy, my Lord; rescued her under +circumstances where anything short of his courage and determination must +have cost her her life.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, very pretty indeed,” said a stiff old gentleman addressed, as he +bowed a most superbly powdered scalp before me; “most happy to make your +acquaintance.” + </p> +<p> +“Who is he?” added he, in nearly as loud a tone to Sir George. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley, of O’Malley Castle.” + </p> +<p> +“True, I forgot; why is he not in uniform?” + </p> +<p> +“Because, unfortunately, my Lord, we don’t own him; he’s not in the army.” + </p> +<p> +“Ha! ha! thought he was.” + </p> +<p> +“You dance, O’Malley, I suppose? I’m sure you’d rather be over there than +hearing all my protestations of gratitude, sincere and heartfelt as they +really are.” + </p> +<p> +“Lechmere, introduce my friend, Mr. O’Malley; get him a partner.” + </p> +<p> +I had not followed my new acquaintance many steps, when Power came up to +me. “I say, Charley,” cried he, “I have been tormented to death by half +the ladies in the room to present you to them, and have been in quest of +you this half-hour. Your brilliant exploit in savage land has made you a +regular <i>preux chevalier</i>; and if you don’t trade on that adventure +to your most lasting profit, you deserve to be—a lawyer. Come along +here! Lady Muckleman, the adjutant-general’s lady and chief, has four +Scotch daughters you are to dance with; then I am to introduce you in all +form to the Dean of Something’s niece,—she is a good-looking girl, +and has two livings in a safe county. Then there’s the town-major’s wife; +and, in fact, I have several engagements from this to supper-time.” + </p> +<p> +“A thousand thanks for all your kindness in prospective, but I think, +perhaps, it were right I should ask Miss Dashwood to dance, if only as a +matter of form,—you understand?” + </p> +<p> +“And if Miss Dashwood should say, ‘With pleasure, sir,’ only as a matter +of form,—you understand?” said a silvery voice beside me. I turned, +and saw Lucy Dashwood, who, having overheard my free-and-easy suggestion, +replied to me in this manner. +</p> +<p> +I here blundered out my excuses. What I said, and what I did not say, I do +not now remember; but certainly, it was her turn now to blush, and her arm +trembled within mine as I led her to the top of the room. In the little +opportunity which our quadrille presented for conversation, I could not +help remarking that, after the surprise of her first meeting with me, Miss +Dashwood’s manner became gradually more and more reserved, and that there +was an evident struggle between her wish to appear grateful for what had +occurred, with a sense of the necessity of not incurring a greater degree +of intimacy. Such was my impression, at least, and such the conclusion I +drew from a certain quiet tone in her manner that went further to wound my +feelings and mar my happiness than any other line of conduct towards me +could possibly have effected. +</p> +<p> +Our quadrille over, I was about to conduct her to a seat, when Sir George +came hurriedly up, his face greatly flushed, and betraying every semblance +of high excitement. +</p> +<p> +“Dear Papa, has anything occurred? Pray what is it?” inquired she. +</p> +<p> +He smiled faintly, and replied, “Nothing very serious, my dear, that I +should alarm you in this way; but certainly, a more disagreeable <i>contretemps</i> +could scarcely occur.” + </p> +<p> +“Do tell me: what can it be?” + </p> +<p> +“Read this,” said he, presenting a very dirty-looking note which bore the +mark of a red wafer most infernally plain upon its outside. +</p> +<p> +Miss Dashwood unfolded the billet, and after a moment’s silence, instead +of participating, as he expected, in her father’s feeling of distress, +burst out a-laughing, while she said: “Why, really, Papa, I do not see why +this should put you out much, after all. Aunt may be somewhat of a +character, as her note evinces, but after a few days—” + </p> +<p> +“Nonsense, child; there’s nothing in this world I have such a dread of as +that confounded woman,—and to come at such a time.” + </p> +<p> +“When does she speak of paying her visit?” + </p> +<p> +“I knew you had not read the note,” said Sir George, hastily; “she’s +coming here to-night,—is on her way this instant, perhaps. What is +to be done? If she forces her way in here, I shall go deranged outright; +O’Malley, my boy, read this note, and you will not feel surprised if I +appear in the humor you see me.” + </p> +<p> +I took the billet from the hands of Miss Dashwood, and read as follows:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +DEAR BROTHER,—When this reaches your hand, I’ll not be far +off. I’m on my way up to town, to be under Dr. Dease for the ould +complaint. Cowley mistakes my case entirely; he says it’s nothing +but religion and wind. Father Magrath, who understands a good +deal about females, thinks otherwise; but God knows who’s right. +Expect me to tea, and, with love to Lucy, +Believe me, yours in haste, +JUDITH MACAN. +</pre> +<p> +<i>Let the sheets be well aired in my room; and if you have a spare bed, +perhaps we could prevail upon Father Magrath to stop too.</i> +</p> +<p> +I scarcely could contain my laughter till I got to the end of this very +free-and-easy epistle; when at last I burst forth in a hearty fit, in +which I was joined by Miss Dashwood. +</p> +<p> +From the account Power had given me in the morning, I had no difficulty in +guessing that the writer was the maiden sister of the late Lady Dashwood; +and for whose relationship Sir George had ever testified the greatest +dread, even at the distance of two hundred miles; and for whom, in any +nearer intimacy, he was in no wise prepared. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Lucy,” said he, “there’s only one thing to be done: if this horrid +woman does arrive, let her be shown to her room; and for the few days of +her stay in town, we’ll neither see nor be seen by any one.” + </p> +<p> +Without waiting for a reply, Sir George was turning away to give the +necessary instructions, when the door of the drawing-room was flung open, +and the servant announced, in his loudest voice, “Miss Macan.” Never shall +I forget the poor general’s look of horror as the words reached him; for +as yet, he was too far to catch even a glimpse of its fair owner. As for +me, I was already so much interested in seeing what she was like, that I +made my way through the crowd towards the door. It is no common occurrence +that can distract the various occupations of a crowded ball-room, where, +amidst the crash of music and the din of conversation, goes on the soft, +low voice of insinuating flattery, or the light flirtation of a first +acquaintance; every clique, every coterie, every little group of three or +four has its own separate and private interests, forming a little world of +its own, and caring for and heeding nothing that goes on around; and even +when some striking character or illustrious personage makes his <i>entrée</i>, +the attention he attracts is so momentary, that the buzz of conversation +is scarcely, if at all, interrupted, and the business of pleasure +continues to flow on. Not so now, however. No sooner had the servant +pronounced the magical name of Miss Macan, than all seemed to stand still. +The spell thus exercised over the luckless general seemed to have extended +to his company; for it was with difficulty that any one could continue his +train of conversation, while every eye was directed towards the door. +About two steps in advance of the servant, who still stood door in hand, +was a tall, elderly lady, dressed in an antique brocade silk, with +enormous flowers gaudily embroidered upon it. Her hair was powdered and +turned back in the fashion of fifty years before; while her high-pointed +and heeled shoes completed a costume that had not been seen for nearly a +century. Her short, skinny arms were bare and partly covered by a falling +flower of old point lace, while on her hands she wore black silk mittens; +a pair of green spectacles scarcely dimmed the lustre of a most piercing +pair of eyes, to whose effect a very palpable touch of rouge on the cheeks +certainly added brilliancy. There stood this most singular apparition, +holding before her a fan about the size of a modern tea-tray; while at +each repetition of her name by the servant, she curtesied deeply, +bestowing the while upon the gay crowd before her a very curious look of +maidenly modesty at her solitary and unprotected position. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0174.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Miss Judy Macan. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +As no one had ever heard of the fair Judith, save one or two of Sir +George’s most intimate friends, the greater part of the company were +disposed to regard Miss Macan as some one who had mistaken the character +of the invitation, and had come in a fancy dress. But this delusion was +but momentary, as Sir George, armed with the courage of despair, forced +his way through the crowd, and taking her hand affectionately, bid her +welcome to Dublin. The fair Judy, at this, threw her arms about his neck, +and saluted him with a hearty smack that was heard all over the room. +</p> +<p> +“Where’s Lucy, Brother? Let me embrace my little darling,” said the lady, +in an accent that told more of Miss Macan than a three-volume biography +could have done. “There she is, I’m sure; kiss me, my honey.” + </p> +<p> +This office Miss Dashwood performed with an effort at courtesy really +admirable; while, taking her aunt’s arm, she led her to a sofa. +</p> +<p> +It needed all the poor general’s tact to get over the sensation of this +most <i>malapropos</i> addition to his party; but by degrees the various +groups renewed their occupations, although many a smile, and more than one +sarcastic glance at the sofa, betrayed that the maiden aunt had not +escaped criticism. +</p> +<p> +Power, whose propensity for fun very considerably out-stripped his sense +of decorum to his commanding officer, had already made his way towards +Miss Dashwood, and succeeded in obtaining a formal introduction to Miss +Macan. +</p> +<p> +“I hope you will do me the favor to dance next set with me, Miss Macan?” + </p> +<p> +“Really, Captain, it’s very polite of you, but you must excuse me. I was +never anything great in quadrilles; but if a reel or a jig—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, dear Aunt, don’t think of it, I beg of you.” + </p> +<p> +“Or even Sir Roger de Coverley,” resumed Miss Macan. +</p> +<p> +“I assure you, quite equally impossible.” + </p> +<p> +“Then I’m certain you waltz,” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“What do you take me for, young man? I hope I know better. I wish Father +Magrath heard you ask me that question, and for all your laced jacket—” + </p> +<p> +“Dearest Aunt, Captain Power didn’t mean to offend you; I’m certain he—” + </p> +<p> +“Well, why did he dare to [<i>sob, sob</i>]—did he see anything +light about me, that he [<i>sob, sob, sob</i>]—oh, dear! oh, dear! +is it for this I came up from my little peaceful place in the west [<i>sob, +sob, sob</i>]?—General, George, dear; Lucy, my love, I’m taken bad. +Oh, dear! oh, dear! is there any whiskey negus?” + </p> +<p> +Whatever sympathy Miss Macan’s sufferings might have excited in the crowd +about her before, this last question totally routed them, and a most +hearty fit of laughter broke forth from more than one of the bystanders. +</p> +<p> +At length, however, she was comforted, and her pacification completely +effected by Sir George setting her down to a whist-table. From this moment +I lost sight of her for above two hours. Meanwhile I had little +opportunity of following up my intimacy with Miss Dashwood, and as I +rather suspected that, on more than one occasion, she seemed to avoid our +meeting, I took especial care on my part, to spare her the annoyance. +</p> +<p> +For one instant only had I any opportunity of addressing her, and then +there was such an evident embarrassment in her manner that I readily +perceived how she felt circumstanced, and that the sense of gratitude to +one whose further advances she might have feared, rendered her constrained +and awkward. “Too true,” said I, “she avoids me. My being here is only a +source of discomfort and pain to her; therefore, I’ll take my leave, and +whatever it may cost me, never to return.” With this intention, resolving +to wish Sir George a very good night, I sought him out for some minutes. +At length I saw him in a corner, conversing with the old nobleman to whom +he had presented me early in the evening. +</p> +<p> +“True, upon my honor, Sir George,” said he; “I saw it myself, and she did +it just as dexterously as the oldest blackleg in Paris.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, you don’t mean to say that she cheated?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, but I do, though,—turned the ace every time. Lady Herbert said +to me, ‘Very extraordinary it is,—four by honors again.’ So I +looked, and then I perceived it,—a very old trick it is; but she did +it beautifully. What’s her name?” + </p> +<p> +“Some western name; I forget it,” said the poor general, ready to die with +shame. +</p> +<p> +“Clever old woman, very!” said the old lord, taking a pinch of snuff; “but +revokes too often.” + </p> +<p> +Supper was announced at this critical moment, and before I had further +thought of my determination to escape, I felt myself hurried along in the +crowd towards the staircase. The party immediately in front of me were +Power and Miss Macan, who now appeared reconciled, and certainly testified +most openly their mutual feelings of good-will. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Charley,” whispered Power, as I came along, “it is capital fun,—never +met anything equal to her; but the poor general will never live through +it, and I’m certain of ten day’s arrest for this night’s proceeding.” + </p> +<p> +“Any news of Webber?” I inquired. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, I fancy I can tell something of him; for I heard of some one +presenting himself, and being refused the <i>entrée</i>, so that Master +Frank has lost his money. Sit near us, I pray you, at supper. We must take +care of the dear aunt for the niece’s sake, eh?” + </p> +<p> +Not seeing the force of this reasoning, I soon separated myself from them, +and secured a corner at a side-table. Every supper on such an occasion as +this is the same scene of solid white muslin, faded flowers, flushed +faces, torn gloves, blushes, blanc-mange, cold chicken, jelly, sponge +cakes, spooney young gentlemen doing the attentive, and watchful mammas +calculating what precise degree of propinquity in the crush is safe or +seasonable for their daughters to the mustached and unmarrying lovers +beside them. There are always the same set of gratified elders, like the +benchers in King’s Inn, marched up to the head of the table, to eat, +drink, and be happy, removed from the more profane looks and soft speeches +of the younger part of the creation. Then there are the <i>hoi polloi</i> +of outcasts, younger sons of younger brothers, tutors, governesses, +portionless cousins, and curates, all formed in phalanx round the +side-tables, whose primitive habits and simple tastes are evinced by their +all eating off the same plate and drinking from nearly the same +wine-glass,—too happy if some better-off acquaintance at the long +table invites them to “wine,” though the ceremony on their part is limited +to the pantomime of drinking. To this miserable <i>tiers etat</i> I +belonged, and bore my fate with unconcern; for, alas, my spirits were +depressed and my heart heavy. Lucy’s treatment of me was every moment +before me, contrasted with her gay and courteous demeanor to all save +myself, and I longed for the moment to get away. +</p> +<p> +Never had I seen her looking so beautiful; her brilliant eyes were lit +with pleasure, and her smile was enchantment itself. What would I not have +given for one moment’s explanation, as I took my leave forever!—one +brief avowal of my unalterable, devoted love; for which I sought not nor +expected return, but merely that I might not be forgotten. +</p> +<p> +Such were my thoughts, when a dialogue quite near me aroused me from my +revery. I was not long in detecting the speakers, who, with their backs +turned to us, were seated at the great table discussing a very liberal +allowance of pigeon-pie, a flask of champagne standing between them. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t now! don’t I tell ye; it’s little ye know Galway, or ye wouldn’t +think to make up to me, squeezing my foot.” + </p> +<p> +“Upon my soul, you’re an angel, a regular angel. I never saw a woman suit +my fancy before.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, behave now. Father Magrath says—” + </p> +<p> +“Who’s he?” + </p> +<p> +“The priest; no less.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, confound him!” + </p> +<p> +“Confound Father Magrath, young man?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, Judy, don’t be angry; I only meant that a dragoon knows +rather more of these matters than a priest.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, I’m not so sure of that. But anyhow, I’d have you to remember +it ain’t a Widow Malone you have beside you.” + </p> +<p> +“Never heard of the lady,” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“Sure, it’s a song,—poor creature,—it’s a song they made about +her in the North Cork, when they were quartered down in our county.” + </p> +<p> +“I wish to Heaven you’d sing it.” + </p> +<p> +“What will you give me, then, if I do?” + </p> +<p> +“Anything,—everything; my heart, my life.” + </p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t give a trauneen for all of them. Give me that old green ring +on your finger, then.” + </p> +<p> +“It’s yours,” said Power, placing it gracefully upon Miss Macan’s finger; +“and now for your promise.” + </p> +<p> +“May be my brother might not like it.” + </p> +<p> +“He’d be delighted,” said Power; “he dotes on music.” + </p> +<p> +“Does he now?” + </p> +<p> +“On my honor, he does.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, mind you get up a good chorus, for the song has one, and here it +is.” + </p> +<p> +“Miss Macan’s song!” said Power, tapping the table with his knife. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Macan’s song!” was re-echoed on all sides; and before the luckless +general could interfere, she had begun. How to explain the air I know not, +for I never heard its name; but at the end of each verse a species of echo +followed the last word that rendered it irresistibly ridiculous. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE WIDOW MALONE. + +Did ye hear of the Widow Malone, +Ohone! +Who lived in the town of Athlone, +Alone? +Oh, she melted the hearts +Of the swains in them parts, +So lovely the Widow Malone, +Ohone! +So lovely the Widow Malone. + +Of lovers she had a full score, +Or more; +And fortunes they all had galore, +In store; +From the minister down +To the clerk of the crown, +All were courting the Widow Malone, +Ohone! +All were courting the Widow Malone. + +But so modest was Mrs. Malone, +‘T was known +No one ever could see her alone, +Ohone! +Let them ogle and sigh, +They could ne’er catch her eye, +So bashful the Widow Malone, +Ohone! +So bashful the Widow Malone. + +Till one Mister O’Brien from Clare, +How quare! +It’s little for blushin’ they care +Down there; +Put his arm round her waist, +Gave ten kisses at laste, +“Oh,” says he, “you’re my Molly Malone, +My own; +Oh,” says he, “you’re my Molly Malone.” + +And the widow they all thought so shy, +My eye! +Ne’er thought of a simper or sigh, +For why? +But “Lucius,” says she, +“Since you’ve made now so free, +You may marry your Mary Malone, +Ohone! +You may marry your Mary Malone.” + +There’s a moral contained in my song, +Not wrong; +And one comfort it’s not very long, +But strong; +If for widows you die, +Larn to <i>kiss, not</i> to <i>sigh</i>, +For they’re all like sweet Mistress Malone, +Ohone! +Oh, they’re very like Mistress Malone. +</pre> +<p> +Never did song create such a sensation as Miss Macan’s; and certainly her +desires as to the chorus were followed to the letter, for “The Widow +Malone, ohone!” resounded from one end of the table to the other, amidst +one universal shout of laughter. None could resist the ludicrous effect of +her melody; and even poor Sir George, sinking under the disgrace of his +relationship, which she had contrived to make public by frequent allusions +to her “dear brother the general,” yielded at last, and joined in the +mirth around him. +</p> +<p> +“I insist upon a copy of ‘The Widow,’ Miss Macan,” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“To be sure; give me a call to-morrow,—let me see,—about two. +Father Magrath won’t be at home,” said she, with a coquettish look. +</p> +<p> +“Where, pray, may I pay my respects?” + </p> +<p> +“No. 22 South Anne Street,—very respectable lodgings. I’ll write the +address in your pocket-book.” + </p> +<p> +Power produced a card and pencil, while Miss Macan wrote a few lines, +saying, as she handed it:— +</p> +<p> +“There, now, don’t read it here before the people; they’ll think it mighty +indelicate in me to make an appointment.” + </p> +<p> +Power pocketed the card, and the next minute Miss Macan’s carriage was +announced. +</p> +<p> +Sir George Dashwood, who little flattered himself that his fair guest had +any intention of departure, became now most considerately attentive, +reminded her of the necessity of muffling against the night air, hoped she +would escape cold, and wished her a most cordial good-night, with a +promise of seeing her early the following day. +</p> +<p> +Notwithstanding Power’s ambition to engross the attention of the lady, Sir +George himself saw her to her carriage, and only returned to the room as a +group was collecting around the gallant captain, to whom he was relating +some capital traits of his late conquest,—for such he dreamed she +was. +</p> +<p> +“Doubt it who will,” said he, “she has invited me to call on her +to-morrow, written her address on my card, told me the hour she is certain +of being alone. See here!” At these words he pulled forth the card, and +handed it to Lechmere. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely were the eyes of the other thrown upon the writing, when he said, +“So, this isn’t it, Power.” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure it is, man,” said Power. “Anne Street is devilish seedy, but +that’s the quarter.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, confound it, man!” said the other; “there’s not a word of that +here.” + </p> +<p> +“Read it out,” said Power. “Proclaim aloud my victory.” + </p> +<p> +Thus urged, Lechmere read:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +DEAR P.,— + +Please pay to my credit,—and soon, mark ye!—the two ponies +lost this evening. I have done myself the pleasure of enjoying your +ball, kissed the lady, quizzed the papa, and walked into the cunning +Fred Power. Yours, +FRANK WEBBER. +“The Widow Malone, ohone!” is at your service. +</pre> +<p> +Had a thunderbolt fallen at his feet, his astonishment could not have +equalled the result of this revelation. He stamped, swore, raved, laughed, +and almost went deranged. The joke was soon spread through the room, and +from Sir George to poor Lucy, now covered with blushes at her part in the +transaction, all was laughter and astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“Who is he? That is the question,” said Sir George, who, with all the +ridicule of the affair hanging over him, felt no common relief at the +discovery of the imposition. +</p> +<p> +“A friend of O’Malley’s,” said Power, delighted, in his defeat, to involve +another with himself. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said the general, regarding me with a look of a very mingled +cast. +</p> +<p> +“Quite true, sir,” said I, replying to the accusation that his manner +implied; “but equally so, that I neither knew of his plot nor recognized +him when here.” + </p> +<p> +“I am perfectly sure of it, my boy,” said the general; “and, after all, it +was an excellent joke,—carried a little too far, it’s true; eh, +Lucy?” + </p> +<p> +But Lucy either heard not, or affected not to hear; and after some little +further assurance that he felt not the least annoyed, the general turned +to converse with some other friends; while I, burning with indignation +against Webber, took a cold farewell of Miss Dashwood, and retired. +</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 LAST NIGHT IN TRINITY. +</p> +<p> +How I might have met Master Webber after his impersonation of Miss Macan, +I cannot possibly figure to myself. Fortunately, indeed, for all parties, +he left town early the next morning; and it was some weeks ere he +returned. In the meanwhile I became a daily visitor at the general’s, +dined there usually three or four times a week, rode out with Lucy +constantly, and accompanied her every evening either to the theatre or +into society. Sir George, possibly from my youth, seemed to pay little +attention to an intimacy which he perceived every hour growing closer, and +frequently gave his daughter into my charge in our morning excursions on +horseback. As for me, my happiness was all but perfect. I loved, and +already began to hope that I was not regarded with indifference; for +although Lucy’s manner never absolutely evinced any decided preference +towards me, yet many slight and casual circumstances served to show me +that my attentions to her were neither unnoticed nor uncared for. Among +the many gay and dashing companions of our rides, I remarked that, however +anxious for such a distinction, none ever seemed to make any way in her +good graces; and I had already gone far in my self-deception that I was +destined for good fortune, when a circumstance which occurred one morning +at length served to open my eyes to the truth, and blast by one fatal +breath the whole harvest of my hopes. +</p> +<p> +We were about to set out one morning on a long ride, when Sir George’s +presence was required by the arrival of an officer who had been sent from +the Horse Guards on official business. After half an hour’s delay, Colonel +Cameron, the officer in question, was introduced, and entered into +conversation with our party. He had only landed in England from the +Peninsula a few days before, and had abundant information of the stirring +events enacting there. At the conclusion of an anecdote,—I forget +what,—he turned suddenly round to Miss Dashwood, who was standing +beside me, and said in a low voice:— +</p> +<p> +“And now, Miss Dashwood, I am reminded of a commission I promised a very +old brother officer to perform. Can I have one moment’s conversation with +you in the window?” + </p> +<p> +As he spoke, I perceived that he crumpled beneath his glove something like +a letter. +</p> +<p> +“To me?” said Lucy, with a look of surprise that sadly puzzled me whether +to ascribe it to coquetry or innocence,—“to me?” + </p> +<p> +“To you,” said the colonel, bowing; “and I am sadly deceived by my friend +Hammersley—” + </p> +<p> +“Captain Hammersley?” said she, blushing deeply as she spoke. +</p> +<p> +I heard no more. She turned towards the window with the colonel, and all I +saw was that he handed her a letter, which, having hastily broken open and +thrown her eyes over, she grew at first deadly pale, then red, and while +her eyes filled with tears, I heard her say, “How like him! How truly +generous this is!” I listened for no more; my brain was wheeling round and +my senses reeling. I turned and left the room; in another moment I was on +my horse, galloping from the spot, despair, in all its blackness, in my +heart, and in my broken-hearted misery, wishing for death. +</p> +<p> +I was miles away from Dublin ere I remembered well what had occurred, and +even then not over clearly. The fact that Lucy Dashwood, whom I imagined +to be my own in heart, loved another, was all that I really knew. That one +thought was all my mind was capable of, and in it my misery, my +wretchedness were centred. +</p> +<p> +Of all the grief my life has known, I have had no moments like the long +hours of that dreary night. My sorrow, in turn, took every shape and +assumed every guise. Now I remembered how the Dashwoods had courted my +intimacy and encouraged my visits,—how Lucy herself had evinced in a +thousand ways that she felt a preference for me. I called to mind the many +unequivocal proofs I had given her that my feeling at least was no common +one; and yet, how had she sported with my affections, and jested with my +happiness! That she loved Hammersley I had now a palpable proof. That this +affection must have been mutual, and prosecuted at the very moment I was +not only professing my own love for her, but actually receiving all but an +avowal of its return,—oh, it was too, too base! and in my deepest +heart I cursed my folly, and vowed never to see her more. +</p> +<p> +It was late on the next day ere I retraced my steps towards town, my heart +sad and heavy, careless what became of me for the future, and pondering +whether I should not at once give up my college career and return to my +uncle. When I reached my chambers, all was silent and comfortless; Webber +had not returned; my servant was from home; and I felt myself more than +ever wretched in the solitude of what had been so oft the scene of noisy +and festive gayety. I sat some hours in a half-musing state, every sad +depressing thought that blighted hopes can conjure up rising in turn +before me. A loud knocking at the door at length aroused me. I got up and +opened it. No one was there. I looked around as well as the coming gloom +of evening would permit, but saw nothing. I listened, and heard, at some +distance off, my friend Power’s manly voice as he sang,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Oh, love is the soul of an Irish dragoon!” + </pre> +<p> +I hallooed out, “Power!” + </p> +<p> +“Eh, O’Malley, is that you?” inquired he. “Why, then, it seems it required +some deliberation whether you opened your door or not. Why, man, you can +have no great gift of prophecy, or you wouldn’t have kept me so long +there.” + </p> +<p> +“And have you been so?” + </p> +<p> +“Only twenty minutes; for as I saw the key in the lock, I had determined +to succeed if noise would do it.” + </p> +<p> +“How strange! I never heard it.” + </p> +<p> +“Glorious sleeper you must be; but come, my dear fellow, you don’t appear +altogether awake yet.” + </p> +<p> +“I have not been quite well these few days.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, indeed! The Dashwoods thought there must have been something of that +kind the matter by your brisk retreat. They sent me after you yesterday; +but wherever you went, Heaven knows. I never could come up with you; so +that your great news has been keeping these twenty-four hours longer than +need be.” + </p> +<p> +“I am not aware what you allude to.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, you are not over likely to be the wiser when you hear it, if you +can assume no more intelligent look than that. Why, man, there’s great +luck in store for you.” + </p> +<p> +“As how, pray? Come, Power, out with it; though I can’t pledge myself to +feel half as grateful for my good fortune as I should do. What is it?” + </p> +<p> +“You know Cameron?” + </p> +<p> +“I have seen him,” said I, reddening. +</p> +<p> +“Well, old Camy, as we used to call him, has brought over, among his other +news, your gazette.” + </p> +<p> +“My gazette! What do you mean?” + </p> +<p> +“Confound your uncommon stupidity this evening! I mean, man, that you are +one of us,—gazetted to the 14th Light,—the best fellows for +love, war, and whiskey that ever sported a sabretasche. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘Oh, love is the soul of an Irish dragoon!’ +</pre> +<p> +By Jove, I am as delighted to have rescued you from the black harness of +the King’s Bench as though you had been a prisoner there! Know, then, +friend Charley, that on Wednesday we proceed to Fermoy, join some score of +gallant fellows,—all food for powder,—and, with the aid of a +rotten transport and the stormy winds that blow, will be bronzing our +beautiful faces in Portugal before the month’s out. But come, now, let’s +see about supper. Some of ours are coming over here at eleven, and I +promised them a devilled bone; and as it’s your last night among these +classic precincts, let us have a shindy of it.” + </p> +<p> +While I despatched Mike to Morrison’s to provide supper, I heard from +Power that Sir George Dashwood had interested himself so strongly for me +that I had obtained my cornetcy in the 14th; that, fearful lest any +disappointment might arise, he had never mentioned the matter to me, but +that he had previously obtained my uncle’s promise to concur in the +arrangement if his negotiation succeeded. It had so done, and now the +long-sought-for object of many days was within my grasp. But, alas, the +circumstance which lent it all its fascinations was a vanished dream; and +what but two days before had rendered my happiness perfect, I listened to +listlessly and almost without interest. Indeed, my first impulse at +finding that I owed my promotion to Sir George was to return a positive +refusal of the cornetcy; but then I remembered how deeply such conduct +would hurt my poor uncle, to whom I never could give an adequate +explanation. So I heard Power in silence to the end, thanked him sincerely +for his own good-natured kindness in the matter, which already, by the +interest he had taken in me, went far to heal the wounds that my own +solitary musings were deepening in my heart. At eighteen, fortunately, +consolations are attainable that become more difficult at +eight-and-twenty, and impossible at eight-and-thirty. +</p> +<p> +While Power continued to dilate upon the delights of a soldier’s life—a +theme which many a boyish dream had long since made hallowed to my +thoughts—I gradually felt my enthusiasm rising, and a certain +throbbing at my heart betrayed to me that, sad and dispirited as I felt, +there was still within that buoyant spirit which youth possesses as its +privilege, and which answers to the call of enterprise as the war-horse to +the trumpet. That a career worthy of manhood, great, glorious, and +inspiriting, opened before me, coming so soon after the late downfall of +my hopes, was in itself a source of such true pleasure that ere long I +listened to my friend, and heard his narrative with breathless interest. A +lingering sense of pique, too, had its share in all this. I longed to come +forward in some manly and dashing part, where my youth might not be ever +remembered against me, and when, having brought myself to the test, I +might no longer be looked upon and treated as a boy. +</p> +<p> +We were joined at length by the other officers of the 14th, and, to the +number of twelve, sat down to supper. +</p> +<p> +It was to be my last night in Old Trinity, and we resolved that the +farewell should be a solemn one. Mansfield, one of the wildest young +fellows in the regiment, had vowed that the leave-taking should be +commemorated by some very decisive and open expressions of our feelings, +and had already made some progress in arrangements for blowing up the +great bell, which had more than once obtruded upon our morning +convivialities; but he was overruled by his more discreet associates, and +we at length assumed our places at table, in the midst of which stood a <i>hecatomb</i> +of all my college equipments, cap, gown, bands, etc. A funeral pile of +classics was arrayed upon the hearth, surmounted by my “Book on the +Cellar,” and a punishment-roll waved its length, like a banner, over the +doomed heroes of Greece and Rome. +</p> +<p> +It is seldom that any very determined attempt to be gay <i>par excellence</i> +has a perfect success, but certainly upon this evening ours had. Songs, +good stories, speeches, toasts, high visions of the campaign before us, +the wild excitement which such a meeting cannot be free from, gradually, +as the wine passed from hand to hand, seized upon all, and about four in +the morning, such was the uproar we caused, and so terrific the noise of +our proceedings, that the accumulated force of porters, sent one by one to +demand admission, was now a formidable body at the door, and Mike at last +came in to assure us that the bursar,—the most dread official of all +collegians,—was without, and insisted, with a threat of his heaviest +displeasure in case of refusal, that the door should be opened. +</p> +<p> +A committee of the whole house immediately sat upon the question; and it +was at length resolved, <i>nemine contradicente</i>, that the request +should be complied with. A fresh bowl of punch, in honor of our expected +guest, was immediately concocted, a new broil put on the gridiron, and +having seated ourselves with as great a semblance of decorum as four +bottles a man admits of, Curtis the junior captain, being most drunk, was +deputed to receive the bursar at the door, and introduce him to our august +presence. +</p> +<p> +Mike’s instructions were, that immediately on Dr. Stone the bursar +entering, the door was to be slammed to, and none of his followers +admitted. This done, the doctor was to be ushered in and left to our +polite attentions. +</p> +<p> +A fresh thundering from without scarcely left time for further +deliberation; and at last Curtis moved towards the door in execution of +his mission. +</p> +<p> +“Is there any one there?” said Mike, in a tone of most unsophisticated +innocence, to a rapping that, having lasted three quarters of an hour, +threatened now to break in the panel. “Is there any one there?” + </p> +<p> +“Open the door this instant,—the senior bursar desires you,—this +instant.” + </p> +<p> +“Sure it’s night, and we’re all in bed,” said Mike. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Webber, Mr. O’Malley,” said the bursar, now boiling with indignation, +“I summon you, in the name of the board, to admit me.” + </p> +<p> +“Let the gemman in,” hiccoughed Curtis; and at the same instant the heavy +bars were withdrawn, and the door opened, but so sparingly as with +difficulty to permit the passage of the burly figure of the bursar. +</p> +<p> +Forcing his way through, and regardless of what became of the rest, he +pushed on vigorously through the antechamber, and before Curtis could +perform his functions of usher, stood in the midst of us. What were his +feelings at the scene before him, Heaven knows. The number of figures in +uniform at once betrayed how little his jurisdiction extended to the great +mass of the company, and he immediately turned towards me. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Webber—” + </p> +<p> +“O’Malley, if you please, Mr. Bursar,” said I, bowing with, most +ceremonious politeness. +</p> +<p> +“No matter, sir; <i>arcades ambo</i>, I believe.” + </p> +<p> +“Both archdeacons,” said Melville, translating, with a look of withering +contempt upon the speaker. +</p> +<p> +The doctor continued, addressing me,— +</p> +<p> +“May I ask, sir, if you believe yourself possessed of any privilege for +converting this university into a common tavern?” + </p> +<p> +“I wish to Heaven he did,” said Curtis; “capital tap your old commons +would make.” + </p> +<p> +“Really, Mr. Bursar,” replied I, modestly, “I had begun to flatter myself +that our little innocent gayety had inspired you with the idea of joining +our party.” + </p> +<p> +“I humbly move that the old cove in the gown do take the chair,” sang out +one. “All who are of this opinion say, ‘Ay.’” A perfect yell of ayes +followed this. “All who are of the contrary say, ‘No.’ The ayes have it.” + </p> +<p> +Before the luckless doctor had a moment for thought, his legs were lifted +from under him, and he was jerked, rather than placed, upon a chair, and +put sitting upon the table. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley, your expulsion within twenty-four hours—” + </p> +<p> +“Hip, hip, hurra, hurra, hurra!” drowned the rest, while Power, taking off +the doctor’s cap, replaced it by a foraging cap, very much to the +amusement of the party. +</p> +<p> +“There is no penalty the law permits of that I shall not—” + </p> +<p> +“Help the doctor,” said Melville, placing a glass of punch in his +unconscious hand. +</p> +<p> +“Now for a ‘Viva la Compagnie!’” said Telford, seating himself at the +piano, and playing the first bars of that well-known air, to which, in our +meetings, we were accustomed to improvise a doggerel in turn. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“I drink to the graces, Law, Physic, Divinity, +Viva la Compagnie! +And here’s to the worthy old Bursar of Trinity, +Viva la Compagnie!” + </pre> +<p> +“Viva, viva la va!” etc., were chorussed with a shout that shook the old +walls, while Power took up the strain: +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Though with lace caps and gowns they look so like asses, +Viva la Compagnie!” + They’d rather have punch than the springs of Parnassus, +Viva la Compagnie! +What a nose the old gentleman has, by the way, +Viva la Compagnie! +Since he smelt out the Devil from Botany Bay, [1] +Viva la Compagnie! +</pre> +<p> +[Footnote:1 Botany Bay was the slang name given by college men to a new +square rather remotely situated from the remainder of the college.] +</p> +<p> +Words cannot give even the faintest idea of the poor bursar’s feelings +while these demoniacal orgies were enacting around him. Held fast in his +chair by Lechmere and another, he glowered on the riotous mob around like +a maniac, and astonishment that such liberties could be taken with one in +his situation seemed to have surpassed even his rage and resentment; and +every now and then a stray thought would flash across his mind that we +were mad,—a sentiment which, unfortunately, our conduct was but too +well calculated to inspire. +</p> +<p> +“So you’re the morning lecturer, old gentleman, and have just dropped in +here in the way of business; pleasant life you must have of it,” said +Casey, now by far the most tipsy man present. +</p> +<p> +“If you think, Mr. O’Malley, that the events of this evening are to end +here—” + </p> +<p> +“Very far from it, Doctor,” said Power; “I’ll draw up a little account of +the affair for ‘Saunders.’ They shall hear of it in every corner and nook +of the kingdom.” + </p> +<p> +“The bursar of Trinity shall be a proverb for a good fellow that loveth +his lush,” hiccoughed out Fegan. +</p> +<p> +“And if you believe that such conduct is academical,” said the doctor, +with a withering sneer. +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps not,” lisped Melville, tightening his belt; “but it’s devilish +convivial,—eh, Doctor?” + </p> +<p> +“Is that like him?” said Moreton, producing a caricature which he had just +sketched. +</p> +<p> +“Capital,—very good,—perfect. M’Cleary shall have it in his +window by noon to-day,” said Power. +</p> +<p> +At this instant some of the combustibles disposed among the rejected +habiliments of my late vocation caught fire, and squibs, crackers, and +detonating shots went off on all sides. The bursar, who had not been deaf +to several hints and friendly suggestions about setting fire to him, +blowing him up, etc., with one vigorous spring burst from his antagonists, +and clearing the table at a bound, reached the floor. Before he could be +seized, he had gained the door, opened it, and was away. We gave chase, +yelling like so many devils. But wine and punch, songs and speeches, had +done their work, and more than one among the pursuers measured his length +upon the pavement; while the terrified bursar, with the speed of terror, +held on his way, and gained his chambers by about twenty yards in advance +of Power and Melville, whose pursuit only ended when the oaken panel of +the door shut them out from their victim. One loud cheer beneath his +window served for our farewell to our friend, and we returned to my rooms. +By this time a regiment of those classic functionaries ycleped porters had +assembled around the door, and seemed bent upon giving battle in honor of +their maltreated ruler; but Power explained to them, in a neat speech +replete with Latin quotations, that their cause was a weak one, that we +were more than their match, and finally proposed to them to finish the +punch-bowl, to which we were really incompetent,—a motion that met +immediate acceptance; and old Duncan, with his helmet in one hand and a +goblet in the other, wished me many happy days and every luck in this life +as I stepped from the massive archway, and took my last farewell of Old +Trinity. +</p> +<p> +Should any kind reader feel interested as to the ulterior course assumed +by the bursar, I have only to say that the terrors of the “Board” were +never fulminated against me, harmless and innocent as I should have +esteemed them. The threat of giving publicity to the entire proceedings by +the papers, and the dread of figuring in a sixpenny caricature in +M’Cleary’s window, were too much for the worthy doctor, and he took the +wiser course under the circumstances, and held his peace about the matter. +I, too, have done so for many a year, and only now recall the scene among +the wild transactions of early days and boyish follies. +</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> +THE PHOENIX PARK. +</p> +<p> +What a glorious thing it is when our first waking thoughts not only dispel +some dark, depressing dream, but arouse us to the consciousness of a new +and bright career suddenly opening before us, buoyant in hope, rich in +promise for the future! Life has nothing better than this. The bold spring +by which the mind clears the depth that separates misery from happiness is +ecstasy itself; and then what a world of bright visions come teeming +before us,—what plans we form; what promises we make to ourselves in +our own hearts; how prolific is the dullest imagination; how excursive the +tamest fancy, at such a moment! In a few short and fleeting seconds, the +events of a whole life are planned and pictured before us. Dreams of +happiness and visions of bliss, of which all our after-years are +insufficient to eradicate the <i>prestige</i>, come in myriads about us; +and from that narrow aperture through which this new hope pierces into our +heart, a flood of light is poured that illumines our path to the very +verge of the grave. How many a success in after-days is reckoned but as +one step in that ladder of ambition some boyish review has framed, +perhaps, after all, destined to be the first and only one! With what +triumph we hail some goal attained, some object of our wishes gained, less +for its present benefit, than as the accomplishment of some youthful +prophecy, when picturing to our hearts all that we would have in life, we +whispered within us the flattery of success. +</p> +<p> +Who is there who has not had some such moment; and who would exchange it, +with all the delusive and deceptive influences by which it comes +surrounded, for the greatest actual happiness he has partaken of? Alas, +alas, it is only in the boundless expanse of such imaginations, unreal and +fictitious as they are, that we are truly blessed! Our choicest blessings +in life come even so associated with some sources of care that the cup of +enjoyment is not pure but dregged in bitterness. +</p> +<p> +To such a world of bright anticipation did I awake on the morning after +the events I have detailed in the last chapter. The first thing my eyes +fell upon was an official letter from the Horse Guards:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“The commander of the forces desires that Mr. O’Malley will report +himself, immediately on the receipt of this letter, at the headquarters +of the regiment to which he is gazetted.” + </pre> +<p> +Few and simple as the lines were, how brimful of pleasure they sounded to +my ears. The regiment to which I was gazetted! And so I was a soldier at +last! The first wish of my boyhood was then really accomplished. And my +uncle, what will he say; what will he think? +</p> +<p> +“A letter, sir, by the post,” said Mike, at the moment. +</p> +<p> +I seized it eagerly; it came from home, but was in Considine’s +handwriting. How my heart failed me as I turned to look at the seal. +“Thank God!” said I, aloud, on perceiving that it was a red one. I now +tore it open and read:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +My Dear Charley,—Godfrey, being laid up with the gout, has +desired me to write to you by this day’s post. Your appointment to +the 14th, notwithstanding all his prejudices about the army, has +given him sincere pleasure. I believe, between ourselves, that your +college career, of which he has heard something, convinced him that +your forte did not lie in the classics; you know I said so always, but +nobody minded me. Your new prospects are all that your best friends +could wish for you: you begin early; your corps is a crack one; you +are ordered for service. What could you have more? + +Your uncle hopes, if you can get a few days’ leave, that you will +come down here before you join, and I hope so too; for he is unusually +low-spirited, and talks about his never seeing you again, and +all that sort of thing. + +I have written to Merivale, your colonel, on this subject, as well +as generally on your behalf. We were cornets together forty years +ago. A strict fellow you’ll find him, but a trump on service. If +you can’t manage the leave, write a long letter home at all events. +And so, God bless you, and all success! +Yours sincerely, +W. Considine. + +I had thought of writing you a long letter of advice for your new +career; and, indeed, half accomplished one. After all, however, I +can tell you little that your own good sense will not teach you as you +go on; and experience is ever better than precept. I know of but +one rule in life which admits of scarcely any exception, and having +followed it upwards of sixty years, approve of it only the more: +Never quarrel when you can help it; but meet any man,—your +tailor, your hairdresser,—if he wishes to have you out. +W. C. +</pre> +<p> +I had scarcely come to the end of this very characteristic epistle, when +two more letters were placed upon my table. One was from Sir George +Dashwood, inviting me to dinner to meet some of my “brother officers.” How +my heart beat at the expression. The other was a short note, marked +“Private,” from my late tutor, Dr. Mooney, saying, “that if I made a +suitable apology to the bursar for the late affair at my room, he might +probably be induced to abandon any further step; otherwise—” then +followed innumerable threats about fine, penalties, expulsion, etc., that +fell most harmlessly upon my ears. I accepted the invitation; declined the +apology; and having ordered my horse, cantered off to the barracks to +consult my friend Power as to all the minor details of my career. +</p> +<p> +As the dinner hour grew near, my thoughts became again fixed upon Miss +Dashwood; and a thousand misgivings crossed my mind as to whether I should +have nerve enough to meet her, without disclosing in my manner the altered +state of my feelings; a possibility which I now dreaded fully as much as I +had longed some days before to avow my affection for her, however slight +its prospect of return. All my valiant resolves and well-contrived plans +for appearing unmoved and indifferent in her presence, with which I stored +my mind while dressing and when on the way to dinner, were, however, +needless, for it was a party exclusively of men; and as the coffee was +served in the dining-room, no move was made to the drawing-room by any of +the company. “Quite as well as it is!” was my muttered opinion, as I got +into my cab at the door. “All is at an end as regards me in her esteem, +and I must not spend my days sighing for a young lady that cares for +another.” Very reasonable, very proper resolutions these; but, alas! I +went home to bed, only to think half the night long of the fair Lucy, and +dream of her the remainder of it. +</p> +<p> +When morning dawned my first thought was, Shall I see her once more? Shall +I leave her forever thus abruptly? Or, rather, shall I not unburden my +bosom of its secret, confess my love, and say farewell? I felt such a +course much more in unison with my wishes than the day before; and as +Power had told me that before a week we should present ourselves at +Fermoy, I knew that no time was to be lost. +</p> +<p> +My determination was taken. I ordered my horse, and early as it was, rode +out to the Royal Hospital. My heart beat so strongly as I rode up to the +door that I half resolved to return. I rang the bell. Sir George was in +town. Miss Dashwood had just gone, five minutes before, to spend some days +at Carton. “It is fate!” thought I as I turned from the spot and walked +slowly beside my horse towards Dublin. +</p> +<p> +In the few days that intervened before my leaving town, my time was +occupied from morning to night; the various details of my uniform, outfit, +etc., were undertaken for me by Power. My horses were sent for to Galway; +and I myself, with innumerable persons to see, and a mass of business to +transact, contrived at least three times a day to ride out to the Royal +Hospital, always to make some trifling inquiry for Sir George, and always +to hear repeated that Miss Dashwood had not returned. +</p> +<p> +Thus passed five of my last six days in Dublin; and as the morning of the +last opened, it was with a sorrowing spirit that I felt my hour of +departure approach without one only opportunity of seeing Lucy, even to +say good-by. While Mike was packing in one corner, and I in another was +concluding a long letter to my poor uncle, my door opened and Webber +entered. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, O’Malley, I’m only in time to say adieu, it seems. To my surprise +this morning I found you had cut the ‘Silent Sister.’ I feared I should be +too late to catch one glimpse of you ere you started for the wars.” + </p> +<p> +“You are quite right, Master Frank, and I scarcely expected to have seen +you. Your last brilliant achievement at Sir George’s very nearly involved +me in a serious scrape.” + </p> +<p> +“A mere trifle. How confoundedly silly Power must have looked, eh? Should +like so much to have seen his face. He booked up next day,—very +proper fellow. By-the-bye, O’Malley, I rather like the little girl; she is +decidedly pretty, and her foot,—did you remark her foot?—capital.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, she’s very good-looking,” said I, carelessly. +</p> +<p> +“I’m thinking of cultivating her a little,” said Webber, pulling up his +cravat and adjusting his hair at the glass. “She’s spoiled by all the +tinsel vaporing of her hussar and aide-de-camp acquaintances; but +something may be done for her, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“With your most able assistance and kind intentions.” + </p> +<p> +“That’s what I mean exactly. Sorry you’re going,—devilish sorry. You +served out Stone gloriously: perhaps it’s as well, though,—you know +they’d have expelled you; but still something might turn up. Soldiering is +a bad style of thing, eh? How the old general did take his sister-in-law’s +presence to heart! But he must forgive and forget, for I am going to be +very great friends with him and Lucy. Where are you going now?” + </p> +<p> +“I am about to try a new horse before troops,” said I. “He’s stanch enough +with the cry of the fox-pack in his ears; but I don’t know how he’ll stand +a peal of artillery.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, come along,” said Webber; “I’ll ride with you.” So saying, we +mounted and set off to the Park, where two regiments of cavalry and some +horse artillery were ordered for inspection. +</p> +<p> +The review was over when we reached the exercising ground, and we slowly +walked our horses towards the end of the Park, intending to return to +Dublin by the road. We had not proceeded far, when, some hundred yards in +advance, we perceived an officer riding with a lady, followed by an +orderly dragoon. +</p> +<p> +“There he goes,” said Webber; “I wonder if he’d ask me to dinner, if I +were to throw myself in his way?” + </p> +<p> +“Who do you mean?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Sir George Dashwood, to be sure, and, <i>la voilà</i>, Miss Lucy. The +little darling rides well, too; how squarely she sits her horse. O’Malley, +I’ve a weakness there; upon my soul I have.” + </p> +<p> +“Very possible,” said I; “I am aware of another friend of mine +participating in the sentiment.” + </p> +<p> +“One Charles O’Malley, of his Majesty’s—” + </p> +<p> +“Nonsense, man; no, no. I mean a very different person, and, for all I can +see, with some reason to hope for success.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, as to that, we flatter ourselves the thing does not present any very +considerable difficulties.” + </p> +<p> +“As how, pray?” + </p> +<p> +“Why, of course, like all such matters, a very decisive determination to +be, to do, and to suffer, as Lindley Murray says, carries the day. Tell +her she’s an angel every day for three weeks. She may laugh a little at +first, but she’ll believe it in the end. Tell her that you have not the +slightest prospect of obtaining her affections, but still persist in +loving her. That, finally, you must die from the effects of despair, etc., +but rather like the notion of it than otherwise. That you know she has no +fortune; that you haven’t a sixpence; and who should marry, if people +whose position in the world was similar did not?” + </p> +<p> +“But halt; pray, how are you to get time and place for all such +interesting conversations?” + </p> +<p> +“Time and place! Good Heavens, what a question! Is not every hour of the +twenty-four the fittest? Is not every place the most suitable? A sudden +pause in the organ of St. Patrick’s did, it is true, catch me once in a +declaration of love, but the choir came in to my aid and drowned the +lady’s answer. My dear O’Malley, what could prevent you this instant, if +you are so disposed, from doing the amiable to the darling Lucy there?” + </p> +<p> +“With the father for an umpire in case we disagreed,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Not at all. I should soon get rid of him.” + </p> +<p> +“Impossible, my dear friend.” + </p> +<p> +“Come now, just for the sake of convincing your obstinacy. If you like to +say good-by to the little girl without a witness, I’ll take off the +he-dragon.” + </p> +<p> +“You don’t mean—” + </p> +<p> +“I do, man; I do mean it.” So saying, he drew a crimson silk handkerchief +from his pocket, and fastened it round his waist like an officer’s sash. +This done, and telling me to keep in their wake for some minutes, he +turned from me, and was soon concealed by a copse of white-thorn near us. +</p> +<p> +I had not gone above a hundred yards farther when I heard Sir George’s +voice calling for the orderly. I looked and saw Webber at a considerable +distance in front, curvetting and playing all species of antics. The +distance between the general and myself was now so short that I overheard +the following dialogue with his sentry:— +</p> +<p> +“He’s not in uniform, then?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir; he has a round hat.” + </p> +<p> +“A round hat!” + </p> +<p> +“His sash—” + </p> +<p> +“A sword and sash. This is too bad. I’m determined to find him out.” + </p> +<p> +“How d’ye do, General?” cried Webber, as he rode towards the trees. +</p> +<p> +“Stop, sir!” shouted Sir George. +</p> +<p> +“Good-day, Sir George,” replied Webber, retiring. +</p> +<p> +“Stay where you are, Lucy,” said the general as, dashing spurs into his +horse, he sprang forward at a gallop, incensed beyond endurance that his +most strict orders should be so openly and insultingly transgressed. +</p> +<p> +Webber led on to a deep hollow, where the road passed between two smooth +slopes, covered with furze-trees, and from which it emerged afterwards in +the thickest and most intricate part of the Park. Sir George dashed boldly +after, and in less than half a minute both were lost to my view, leaving +me in breathless amazement at Master Frank’s ingenuity, and some puzzle as +to my own future movements. +</p> +<p> +“Now then, or never!” said I, as I pushed boldly forward, and in an +instant was alongside of Miss Dashwood. Her astonishment at seeing me so +suddenly increased the confusion from which I felt myself suffering, and +for some minutes I could scarcely speak. At last I plucked up courage a +little, and said:— +</p> +<p> +“Miss Dashwood, I have looked most anxiously, for the last four days, for +the moment which chance has now given me. I wished, before I parted +forever with those to whom I owe already so much, that I should at least +speak my gratitude ere I said good-by.” + </p> +<p> +“But when do you think of going?” + </p> +<p> +“To-morrow. Captain Power, under whose command I am, has received orders +to embark immediately for Portugal.” + </p> +<p> +I thought—perhaps it was but a thought—that her cheek grew +somewhat paler as I spoke; but she remained silent; and I, scarcely +knowing what I had said, or whether I had finished, spoke not either. +</p> +<p> +“Papa, I’m sure, is not aware,” said she, after a long pause, “of your +intention of leaving so soon, for only last night he spoke of some letters +he meant to give you to some friends in the Peninsula; besides, I know,” + here she smiled faintly,—“that he destined some excellent advice for +your ears, as to your new path in life, for he has an immense opinion of +the value of such to a young officer.” + </p> +<p> +“I am, indeed, most grateful to Sir George, and truly never did any one +stand more in need of counsel than I do.” This was said half musingly, and +not intended to be heard. +</p> +<p> +“Then, pray, consult papa,” said she, eagerly; “he is much attached to +you, and will, I am certain, do all in his power—” + </p> +<p> +“Alas! I fear not, Miss Dashwood.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, what can you mean. Has anything so serious occurred?” + </p> +<p> +“No, no; I’m but misleading you, and exciting your sympathy with false +pretences. Should I tell you all the truth, you would not pardon, perhaps +not hear me.” + </p> +<p> +“You have, indeed, puzzled me; but if there is anything in which my father—” + </p> +<p> +“Less him than his daughter,” said I, fixing my eyes full upon her as I +spoke. “Yes, Lucy, I feel I must confess it, cost what it may; I love you. +Stay, hear me out; I know the fruitlessness, the utter despair, that +awaits such a sentiment. My own heart tells me that I am not, cannot be, +loved in return; yet would I rather cherish in its core my affection, +slighted and unblessed, such as it is, than own another heart. I ask for +nothing, I hope for nothing; I merely entreat that, for my truth, I may +meet belief, and for my heart’s worship of her whom alone I can love, +compassion. I see that you at least pity me. Nay, one word more; I have +one favor more to ask,—it is my last, my only one. Do not, when time +and distance may have separated us, perhaps forever, think that the +expressions I now use are prompted by a mere sudden ebullition of boyish +feeling; do not attribute to the circumstance of my youth alone the warmth +of the attachment I profess,—for I swear to you, by every hope that +I have, that in my heart of hearts my love to you is the source and spring +of every action in my life, of every aspiration in my heart; and when I +cease to love you, I shall cease to feel.” + </p> +<p> +“And now, farewell,—farewell forever!” I pressed her hand to my +lips, gave one long, last look, turned my horse rapidly away, and ere a +minute was far out of sight of where I had left her. +</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> +THE ROAD. +</p> +<p> +Power was detained in town by some orders from the adjutant-general, so +that I started for Cork the next morning with no other companion than my +servant Mike. For the first few stages upon the road, my own thoughts +sufficiently occupied me to render me insensible or indifferent to all +else. My opening career, the prospects my new life as a soldier held out, +my hopes of distinction, my love of Lucy with all its train of doubts and +fears, passed in review before me, and I took no note of time till far +past noon. I now looked to the back part of the coach, where Mike’s voice +had been, as usual, in the ascendant for some time, and perceived that he +was surrounded by an eager auditory of four raw recruits, who, under the +care of a sergeant, were proceeding to Cork to be enrolled in their +regiment. The sergeant, whose minutes of wakefulness were only those when +the coach stopped to change horses, and when he got down to mix a “summat +hot,” paid little attention to his followers, leaving them perfectly free +in all their movements, to listen to Mike’s eloquence and profit by his +suggestions, should they deem fit. Master Michael’s services to his new +acquaintances, I began to perceive, were not exactly of the same nature as +Dibdin is reported to have rendered to our navy in the late war. Far from +it. His theme was no contemptuous disdain for danger; no patriotic +enthusiasm to fight for home and country; no proud consciousness of +British valor, mingled with the appropriate hatred of our mutual enemies,—on +the contrary, Mike’s eloquence was enlisted for the defendant. He +detailed, and in no unimpressive way either, the hardships of a soldier’s +life,—its dangers, its vicissitudes, its chances, its possible +penalties, its inevitably small rewards; and, in fact, so completely did +he work on the feelings of his hearers that I perceived more than one +glance exchanged between the victims that certainly betokened anything +save the resolve to fight for King George. It was at the close of a long +and most powerful appeal upon the superiority of any other line in life, +petty larceny and small felony inclusive, that he concluded with the +following quotation:— +</p> +<p> +“Thrue for ye, boys! +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘With your red scarlet coat, +You’re as proud as a goat, +And your long cap and feather.’ +</pre> +<p> +But, by the piper that played before Moses! it’s more whipping nor +gingerbread is going on among them, av ye knew but all, and heerd the +misfortune that happened to my father.” + </p> +<p> +“And was he a sodger?” inquired one. +</p> +<p> +“Troth was he, more sorrow to him; and wasn’t he a’most whipped one day +for doing what he was bid?” + </p> +<p> +“Musha, but that was hard!” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure it was hard; but faix, when my father seen that they didn’t +know their own minds, he thought, anyhow, he knew his, so he ran away,—and +devil a bit of him they ever cotch afther. May be ye might like to hear +the story; and there’s instruction in it for yez, too.” + </p> +<p> +A general request to this end being preferred by the company, Mike took a +shrewd look at the sergeant, to be sure that he was still sleeping, +settled his coat comfortably across his knees, and began:— +</p> +<p> +Well, it’s a good many years ago my father ‘listed in the North Cork, just +to oblige Mr. Barry, the landlord there. For,’ says he, ‘Phil,’ says he, +‘it’s not a soldier ye’ll be at all, but my own man, to brush my clothes +and go errands, and the like o’ that; and the king, long life to him! will +help to pay ye for your trouble. Ye understand me?’ Well, my father +agreed, and Mr. Barry was as good as his word. Never a guard did my father +mount, nor as much as a drill had he, nor a roll-call, nor anything at +all, save and except wait on the captain, his master, just as pleasant as +need be, and no inconvenience in life. +</p> +<p> +“Well, for three years this went on as I am telling, and the regiment was +ordered down to Bantry, because of a report that the ‘boys’ was rising +down there; and the second evening there was a night party patrolling with +Captain Barry for six hours in the rain, and the captain, God be marciful +to him! tuk could and died. More by token, they said it was drink, but my +father says it wasn’t: ‘for’ says he, ‘after he tuk eight tumblers +comfortable,’ my father mixed the ninth, and the captain waived his hand +this way, as much as to say he’d have no more. ‘Is it that ye mean?’ says +my father; and the captain nodded. ‘Musha, but it’s sorry I am,’ says my +father, ‘to see you this way; for ye must be bad entirely to leave off in +the beginning of the evening.’ And thrue for him, the captain was dead in +the morning. +</p> +<p> +“A sorrowful day it was for my father when he died. It was the finest +place in the world; little to do, plenty of divarsion, and a kind man he +was,—when he was drunk. Well, then, when the captain was buried and +all was over, my father hoped they’d be for letting him away, as he said, +‘Sure, I’m no use in life to anybody, save the man that’s gone, for his +ways are all I know, and I never was a sodger.’ But, upon my conscience, +they had other thoughts in their heads, for they ordered him into the +ranks to be drilled just like the recruits they took the day before. +</p> +<p> +“‘Musha, isn’t this hard?’ said my father. ‘Here I am, an ould vitrin that +ought to be discharged on a pension with two-and-sixpence a day, obliged +to go capering about the barrack-yard, practising the goose-step, or some +other nonsense not becoming my age nor my habits.’ But so it was. Well, +this went on for some time, and sure, if they were hard on my father, +hadn’t he his revenge; for he nigh broke their hearts with his stupidity. +Oh, nothing in life could equal him! Devil a thing, no matter how easy, he +could learn at all; and so far from caring for being in confinement, it +was that he liked best. Every sergeant in the regiment had a trial of him, +but all to no good; and he seemed striving so hard to learn all the while +that they were loath to punish him, the ould rogue! +</p> +<p> +“This was going on for some time, when, one day, news came in that a body +of the rebels, as they called them, was coming down from the Gap of +Mulnavick to storm the town and burn all before them. The whole regiment +was of coorse under arms, and great preparations was made for a battle. +Meanwhile patrols were ordered to scour the roads, and sentries posted at +every turn of the way and every rising ground to give warning when the +boys came in sight; and my father was placed at the Bridge of Drumsnag, in +the wildest and bleakest part of the whole country, with nothing but furze +mountains on every side, and a straight road going over the top of them. +</p> +<p> +“‘This is pleasant,’ says my father, as soon as they left him there alone +by himself, with no human creature to speak to, nor a whiskey-shop within +ten miles of him; ‘cowld comfort,’ says he, ‘on a winter’s day; and faix, +but I have a mind to give ye the slip.’ +</p> +<p> +“Well, he put his gun down on the bridge, and he lit his pipe, and he sat +down under an ould tree and began to ruminate upon his affairs. +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, then, it’s wishing it well I am,’ says he, ‘for sodgering; and bad +luck to the hammer that struck the shilling that ‘listed me, that’s all,’ +for he was mighty low in his heart. +</p> +<p> +“Just then a noise came rattling down near him. He listened, and before he +could get on his legs, down comes’ the general, ould Cohoon, with an +orderly after him. +</p> +<p> +“‘Who goes there?’ says my father. +</p> +<p> +“‘The round,’ says the general, looking about all the time to see where +was the sentry, for my father was snug under the tree. +</p> +<p> +“‘What round?’ says my father. +</p> +<p> +“‘The grand round,’ says the general, more puzzled than afore. +</p> +<p> +“‘Pass on, grand round, and God save you kindly!’ says my father, putting +his pipe in his mouth again, for he thought all was over. +</p> +<p> +“‘D—n your soul, where are you?’ says the general, for sorrow bit of +my father could he see yet. +</p> +<p> +“‘It’s here I am,’ says he, ‘and a cowld place I have of it; and if it +wasn’t for the pipe I’d be lost entirely.’ +</p> +<p> +“The words wasn’t well out of his mouth when the general began laughing, +till ye’d think he’d fall off his horse; and the dragoon behind him—more +by token, they say it wasn’t right for him—laughed as loud as +himself. +</p> +<p> +“‘Yer a droll sentry,’ says the general, as soon as he could speak. +</p> +<p> +“‘Be-gorra, it’s little fun there’s left in me,’ says my father, ‘with +this drilling, and parading, and blackguarding about the roads all night.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And is this the way you salute your officer?’ says the general. +</p> +<p> +“‘Just so,’ says my father; ‘devil a more politeness ever they taught me.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What regiment do you belong to?’ says the general. +</p> +<p> +“‘The North Cork, bad luck to them!’ says my father, with a sigh. +</p> +<p> +“‘They ought to be proud of ye,’ says the general. +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m sorry for it,’ says my father, sorrowfully, ‘for may be they’ll keep +me the longer.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, my good fellow,’ says the general, ‘I haven’t more time to waste +here; but let me teach you something before I go. Whenever your officer +passes, it’s your duty to present to him.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Arrah, it’s jokin’ ye are,’ says my father. +</p> +<p> +“‘No, I’m in earnest,’ says he, ‘as ye might learn, to your cost, if I +brought you to a court-martial.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, there’s no knowing,’ says my father, ‘what they’d be up to; but +sure, if that’s all, I’ll do it, with all “the veins,” whenever yer coming +this way again.’ +</p> +<p> +“The general began to laugh again here; but said,— +</p> +<p> +‘I’m coming back in the evening,’ says he, ‘and mind you don’t forget your +respect to your officer.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Never fear, sir,’ says my father; ‘and many thanks to you for your +kindness for telling me.’ +</p> +<p> +“Away went the general, and the orderly after him, and in ten minutes they +were out of sight. +</p> +<p> +“The night was falling fast, and one half of the mountain was quite dark +already, when my father began to think they were forgetting him entirely. +He looked one way, and he looked another, but sorra bit of a sergeant’s +guard was coming to relieve him. There he was, fresh and fasting, and +daren’t go for the bare life. ‘I’ll give you a quarter of an hour more,’ +says my father, ‘till the light leaves that rock up there; after that,’ +says he, ‘by the Mass! I’ll be off, av it cost me what it may.’ +</p> +<p> +“Well, sure enough, his courage was not needed this time; for what did he +see at the same moment but a shadow of something coming down the road +opposite the bridge. He looked again; and then he made out the general +himself, that was walking his horse down the steep part of the mountain, +followed by the orderly. My father immediately took up his musket off the +wall, settled his belts, shook the ashes out of his pipe and put it into +his pocket, making himself as smart and neat-looking as he could be, +determining, when ould Cohoon came up, to ask him for leave to go home, at +least for the night. Well, by this time the general was turning a sharp +part of the cliff that looks down upon the bridge, from where you might +look five miles round on every side. ‘He sees me,’ says my father; ‘but +I’ll be just as quick as himself.’ No sooner said than done; for coming +forward to the parapet of the bridge, he up with his musket to his +shoulder, and presented it straight at the general. It wasn’t well there, +when the officer pulled up his horse quite short, and shouted out, +‘Sentry! sentry!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Anan?’ says my father, still covering him. +</p> +<p> +“‘Down with your musket you rascal. Don’t you see it’s the grand round?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘To be sure I do,’ says my father, never changing for a minute. +</p> +<p> +“‘The ruffian will shoot me,’ says the general. +</p> +<p> +“‘Devil a fear,’ says my father, ‘av it doesn’t go off of itself.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What do you mean by that, you villian?’ says the general, scarcely able +to speak with fright, for every turn he gave on his horse, my father +followed with the gun,—what do you mean?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Sure, ain’t I presenting?’ says my father. ‘Blood an ages! do you want +me to fire next?’ +</p> +<p> +“With that the general drew a pistol from his holster, and took deliberate +aim at my father; and there they both stood for five minutes, looking at +each other, the orderly all the while breaking his heart laughing behind a +rock; for, ye see, the general knew av he retreated that my father might +fire on purpose, and av he came on, that he might fire by chance,—and +sorra bit he knew what was best to be done. +</p> +<p> +“‘Are ye going to pass the evening up there, grand round?’ says my father; +‘for it’s tired I’m getting houldin’ this so long.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Port arms!’ shouted the general, as if on parade. +</p> +<p> +“‘Sure I can’t, till yer past,’ says my father, angrily; ‘and my hands +trembling already.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘By Heavens! I shall be shot,’ says the general. +</p> +<p> +“‘Be-gorra, it’s what I’m afraid of,’ says my father; and the words wasn’t +out of his mouth before off went the musket, bang!—and down fell the +general, smack on the ground, senseless. Well the orderly ran out at this, +and took him up and examined his wound; but it wasn’t a wound at all, only +the wadding of the gun. For my father—God be kind to him!—ye +see, could do nothing right; and so he bit off the wrong end of the +cartridge when he put it in the gun, and, by reason, there was no bullet +in it. Well, from that day after they never got a sight of him; for the +instant that the general dropped, he sprang over the bridge-wall and got +away; and what, between living in a lime-kiln for two months, eating +nothing but blackberries and sloes, and other disguises, he never returned +to the army, but ever after took to a civil situation, and drive a hearse +for many years.” + </p> +<p> +How far Mike’s narrative might have contributed to the support of his +theory, I am unable to pronounce; for his auditory were, at some distance +from Cork, made to descend from their lofty position and join a larger +body of recruits, all proceeding to the same destination, under a strong +escort of infantry. For ourselves, we reached the “beautiful city” in due +time, and took up our quarters at the Old George Hotel. +</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> +CORK. +</p> +<p> +The undress rehearsal of a new piece, with its dirty-booted actors, its +cloaked and hooded actresses <i>en papillote</i>, bears about the same +relation to the gala, wax-lit, and bespangled ballet, as the raw young +gentleman of yesterday to the epauletted, belted, and sabretasched +dragoon, whose transformation is due to a few hours of head-quarters, and +a few interviews with the adjutant. +</p> +<p> +So, at least, I felt it; and it was with a very perfect concurrence in his +Majesty’s taste in a uniform, and a most entire approval of the regimental +tailor, that I strutted down George’s Street a few days after my arrival +in Cork. The transports had not as yet come round; there was a great doubt +of their doing so for a week or so longer; and I found myself as the +dashing cornet, the centre of a thousand polite attentions and most kind +civilities. +</p> +<p> +The officer under whose orders I was placed for the time was a great +friend of Sir George Dashwood’s, and paid me, in consequence, much +attention. Major Dalrymple had been on the staff from the commencement of +his military career, had served in the commissariat for some time, was +much on foreign stations; but never, by any of the many casualties of his +life, had he seen what could be called service. His ideas of the soldier’s +profession were, therefore, what might almost be as readily picked up by a +commission in the battle-axe guards, as one in his Majesty’s Fiftieth. He +was now a species of district paymaster, employed in a thousand ways, +either inspecting recruits, examining accounts, revising sick +certificates, or receiving contracts for mess beef. Whether the nature of +his manifold occupations had enlarged the sphere of his talents and +ambition, or whether the abilities had suggested the variety of his +duties, I know not, but truly the major was a man of all work. No sooner +did a young ensign join his regiment at Cork, than Major Dalrymple’s card +was left at his quarters; the next day came the major himself; the third +brought an invitation to dinner; on the fourth he was told to drop in, in +the evening; and from thenceforward, he was the <i>ami de la maison</i>, +in company with numerous others as newly-fledged and inexperienced as +himself. +</p> +<p> +One singular feature of the society at the house was that although the +major was as well known as the flag on Spike Island, yet somehow, no +officer above the rank of an ensign was ever to be met with there. It was +not that he had not a large acquaintance; in fact, the “How are you, +Major?” “How goes it, Dalrymple?” that kept everlastingly going on as he +walked the streets, proved the reverse; but strange enough, his +predilections leaned towards the newly gazetted, far before the bronzed +and seared campaigners who had seen the world, and knew more about it. The +reasons for this line of conduct were twofold. In the first place, there +was not an article of outfit, from a stock to a sword-belt, that he could +not and did not supply to the young officer,—from the gorget of the +infantry to the shako of the grenadier, all came within his province; not +that he actually kept a <i>magasin</i> of these articles, but he had so +completely interwoven his interests with those of numerous shopkeepers in +Cork that he rarely entered a shop over whose door Dalrymple & Co. +might not have figured on the sign-board. His stables were filled with a +perfect infirmary of superannuated chargers, fattened and conditioned up +to a miracle, and groomed to perfection. He could get you—<i>only +you</i>—about three dozen of sherry to take out with you as +sea-store; he knew of such a servant; he chanced upon such a +camp-furniture yesterday in his walks; in fact, why want for anything? His +resources were inexhaustible; his kindness unbounded. +</p> +<p> +Then money was no object,—hang it, you could pay when you liked; +what signified it? In other words, a bill at thirty-one days, cashed and +discounted by a friend of the major’s, would always do. While such were +the unlimited advantages his acquaintance conferred, the sphere of his +benefits took another range. The major had two daughters; Matilda and +Fanny were as well known in the army as Lord Fitzroy Somerset, or Picton, +from the Isle of Wight to Halifax, from Cape Coast to Chatham, from +Belfast to the Bermudas. Where was the subaltern who had not knelt at the +shrine of one or the other, if not of both, and vowed eternal love until a +change of quarters? In plain words, the major’s solicitude for the service +was such, that, not content with providing the young officer with all the +necessary outfit of his profession, he longed also to supply him with a +comforter for his woes, a charmer for his solitary hours, in the person of +one of his amiable daughters. Unluckily, however, the necessity for a wife +is not enforced by “general orders,” as is the cut of your coat, or the +length of your sabre; consequently, the major’s success in the home +department of his diplomacy was not destined for the same happy results +that awaited it when engaged about drill trousers and camp kettles, and +the Misses Dalrymple remained misses through every clime and every +campaign. And yet, why was it so? It is hard to say. What would men have? +Matilda was a dark-haired, dark-eyed, romantic-looking girl, with a tall +figure and a slender waist, with more poetry in her head than would have +turned any ordinary brain; always unhappy, in need of consolation, never +meeting with the kindred spirit that understood her, destined to walk the +world alone, her fair thoughts smothered in the recesses of her own heart. +Devilish hard to stand this, when you began in a kind of platonic +friendship on both sides. More than one poor fellow nearly succumbed, +particularly when she came to quote Cowley, and told him, with tears in +her eyes,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“There are hearts that live and love alone,” etc. +</pre> +<p> +I’m assured that this <i>coup-de-grace</i> rarely failed in being followed +by a downright avowal of open love, which, somehow, what between the route +coming, what with waiting for leave from home, etc., never got further +than a most tender scene, and exchange of love tokens; and, in fact, such +became so often the termination, that Power swears Matty had to make a +firm resolve about cutting off any more hair, fearing a premature baldness +during the recruiting season. +</p> +<p> +Now, Fanny had selected another arm of the service. Her hair was fair; her +eyes blue, laughing, languishing,—mischief-loving blue, with long +lashes, and a look in them that was wont to leave its impression rather +longer than you exactly knew of; then, her figure was <i>petite</i>, but +perfect; her feet Canova might have copied; and her hand was a study for +Titian; her voice, too, was soft and musical, but full of that <i>gaiété +de coeur</i> that never fails to charm. While her sister’s style was <i>il +penserono</i>, hers was <i>l’allegro</i>; every imaginable thing, place, +or person supplied food for her mirth, and her sister’s lovers all came in +for their share. She hunted with Smith Barry’s hounds; she yachted with +the Cove Club; she coursed, practised at a mark with a pistol, and played +chicken hazard with all the cavalry,—for, let it be remarked as a +physiological fact, Matilda’s admirers were almost invariably taken from +the infantry, while Fanny’s adorers were as regularly dragoons. Whether +the former be the romantic arm of the service, and the latter be more +adapted to dull realities, or whether the phenomenon had any other +explanation, I leave to the curious. Now, this arrangement, proceeding +upon that principle which has wrought such wonders in Manchester and +Sheffield,—the division of labor,—was a most wise and +equitable one, each having her one separate and distinct field of action, +interference was impossible; not but that when, as in the present +instance, cavalry was in the ascendant, Fanny would willingly spare a +dragoon or two to her sister, who likewise would repay the debt when +occasion offered. +</p> +<p> +The mamma—for it is time I should say something of the head of the +family—was an excessively fat, coarse-looking, dark-skinned +personage, of some fifty years, with a voice like a boatswain in a quinsy. +Heaven can tell, perhaps, why the worthy major allied his fortunes with +hers, for she was evidently of a very inferior rank in society, could +never have been aught than downright ugly, and I never heard that she +brought him any money. “Spoiled five,” the national amusement of her age +and sex in Cork, scandal, the changes in the army list, the failures in +speculation of her luckless husband, the forlorn fortunes of the girls, +her daughters, kept her in occupation, and her days were passed in one +perpetual, unceasing current of dissatisfaction and ill-temper with all +around, that formed a heavy counterpoise to the fascinations of the young +ladies. The repeated jiltings to which they had been subject had blunted +any delicacy upon the score of their marriage; and if the newly-introduced +cornet or ensign was not coming forward, as became him, at the end of the +requisite number of days, he was sure of receiving a very palpable +admonition from Mrs. Dalrymple. Hints, at first dimly shadowed, that +Matilda was not in spirits this morning; that Fanny, poor child, had a +headache,—directed especially at the culprit in question,—grew +gradually into those little motherly fondnesses in mamma, that, like the +fascination of the rattlesnake, only lure on to ruin. The doomed man was +pressed to dinner when all others were permitted to take their leave; he +was treated like one of the family, God help him! After dinner, the major +would keep him an hour over his wine, discussing the misery of an +ill-assorted marriage; detailing his own happiness in marrying a woman +like the Tonga Islander I have mentioned; hinting that girls should be +brought up, not only to become companions to their husbands, but with +ideas fitting their station; if his auditor were a military man, that none +but an old officer (like him) could know how to educate girls (like his); +and that feeling he possessed two such treasures, his whole aim in life +was to guard and keep them,—a difficult task, when proposals of the +most flattering kind were coming constantly before him. Then followed a +fresh bottle, during which the major would consult his young friend upon a +very delicate affair,—no less than a proposition for the hand of +Miss Matilda, or Fanny, whichever he was supposed to be soft upon. This +was generally a <i>coup-de-maître</i>; should he still resist, he was +handed over to Mrs. Dalrymple, with a strong indictment against him, and +rarely did he escape a heavy sentence. Now, is it not strange that two +really pretty girls, with fully enough of amiable and pleasing qualities +to have excited the attention and won the affections of many a man, should +have gone on for years,—for, alas! they did so in every climate, +under every sun,—to waste their sweetness in this miserable career +of intrigue and man-trap, and yet nothing come of it? But so it was. The +first question a newly-landed regiment was asked, if coming from where +they resided, was, “Well, how are the girls?” “Oh, gloriously. Matty is +there.” “Ah, indeed! poor thing.” “Has Fan sported a new habit?” “Is it +the old gray with the hussar braiding? Confound it, that was seedy when I +saw them in Corfu. And Mother Dal as fat and vulgar as ever?” “Dawson of +ours was the last, and was called up for sentence when we were ordered +away; of course, he bolted,” etc. Such was the invariable style of +question and answer concerning them; and although some few, either from +good feeling or fastidiousness, relished but little the mode in which it +had become habitual to treat them, I grieve to say that, generally, they +were pronounced fair game for every species of flirtation and love-making +without any “intentions” for the future. I should not have trespassed so +far upon my readers’ patience, were I not, in recounting these traits of +my friends above, narrating matters of history. How many are there who may +cast their eyes upon these pages, that will say, “Poor Matilda! I knew her +at Gibraltar. Little Fanny was the life and soul of us all in Quebec.” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley,” said the adjutant, as I presented myself in the afternoon +of my arrival in Cork to a short, punchy, little red-faced gentleman, in a +short jacket and ducks, “you are, I perceive, appointed to the 14th; you +will have the goodness to appear on parade to-morrow morning. The +riding-school hours are——. The morning drill is——; +evening drill——. Mr. Minchin, you are a 14th man, I believe? +No, I beg pardon! a carbineer; but no matter. Mr. O’Malley, Mr. Minchin; +Captain Dounie, Mr. O’Malley. You’ll dine with us to-day, and to-morrow +you shall be entered at the mess.” + </p> +<p> +“Yours are at Santarem, I believe?” said an old, weather-beaten looking +officer with one arm. +</p> +<p> +“I’m ashamed to say, I know nothing whatever of them; I received my +gazette unexpectedly enough.” + </p> +<p> +“Ever in Cork before, Mr. O’Malley?” + </p> +<p> +“Never,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Glorious place,” lisped a white-eyelashed, knocker-kneed ensign; +“splendid <i>gals</i>, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, Brunton,” said Minchin, “you may boast a little; but we poor devils—” + </p> +<p> +“Know the Dals?” said the hero of the lisp, addressing me. +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t that honor,” I replied, scarcely able to guess whether what he +alluded to were objects of the picturesque or a private family. +</p> +<p> +“Introduce him, then, at once,” said the adjutant; “we’ll all go in the +evening. What will the old squaw think?” + </p> +<p> +“Not I,” said Minchin. “She wrote to the Duke of York about my helping +Matilda at supper, and not having any honorable intentions afterwards.” + </p> +<p> +“We dine at ‘The George’ to-day, Mr. O’Malley, sharp seven. Until then—” + </p> +<p> +So saying, the little man bustled back to his accounts, and I took my +leave with the rest, to stroll about the town till dinner-time. +</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> +THE ADJUTANT’S DINNER. +</p> +<p> +The adjutant’s dinner was as professional an affair as need be. A circuit +or a learned society could not have been more exclusively devoted to their +own separate and immediate topics than were we. Pipeclay in all its +varieties came on the <i>tapis</i>; the last regulation cap, the new +button, the promotions, the general orders, the colonel and the colonel’s +wife, stoppages, and the mess fund were all well and ably discussed; and +strange enough, while the conversation took this wide range, not a chance +allusion, not one stray hint ever wandered to the brave fellows who were +covering the army with glory in the Peninsula, nor one souvenir of him +that, was even then enjoying a fame as a leader second to none in Europe. +This surprised me not a little at the time; but I have since that learned +how little interest the real services of an army possess for the ears of +certain officials, who, stationed at home quarters, pass their inglorious +lives in the details of drill, parade, mess-room gossip, and barrack +scandal. Such, in fact, were the dons of the present dinner. We had a +commissary-general, an inspecting brigade-major of something, a physician +to the forces, the adjutant himself, and Major Dalrymple; the <i>hoi +polloi</i> consisting of the raw ensign, a newly-fledged cornet (Mr. +Sparks), and myself. +</p> +<p> +The commissary told some very pointless stories about his own department; +the doctor read a dissertation upon Walcheren fever; the adjutant got very +stupidly tipsy; and Major Dalrymple succeeded in engaging the three +juniors of the party to tea, having previously pledged us to purchase +nothing whatever of outfit without his advice, he well knowing (which he +did) how young fellows like us were cheated, and resolving to be a father +to us (which he certainly tried to be). +</p> +<p> +As we rose from the table, about ten o’clock, I felt how soon a few such +dinners would succeed in disenchanting me of all my military illusions; +for, young as I was, I saw that the commissary was a vulgar bore, the +doctor a humbug, the adjutant a sot, and the major himself I greatly +suspected to be an old rogue. +</p> +<p> +“You are coming with us, Sparks?” said Major Dalrymple, as he took me by +one arm and the ensign by the other. “We are going to have a little tea +with the ladies; not five minutes’ walk.” + </p> +<p> +“Most happy, sir,” said Mr. Sparks, with a very flattered expression of +countenance. +</p> +<p> +“O’Malley, you know Sparks, and Burton too.” + </p> +<p> +This served for a species of triple introduction, at which we all bowed, +simpered, and bowed again. We were very happy to have the pleasure, etc. +</p> +<p> +“How pleasant to get away from these fellows!” said the major, “they are +so uncommonly prosy! That commissary, with his mess beef, and old +Pritchard, with black doses and rigors,—nothing so insufferable! +Besides, in reality, a young officer never needs all that nonsense. A +little medicine chest—I’ll get you one each to-morrow for five +pounds—no, five pounds ten—the same thing—that will see +you all through the Peninsula. Remind me of it in the morning.” This we +all promised to do, and the major resumed: “I say, Sparks, you’ve got a +real prize in that gray horse,—such a trooper as he is! O’Malley, +you’ll be wanting something of that kind, if we can find it for you.” + </p> +<p> +“Many thanks, Major; but my cattle are on the way here already. I’ve only +three horses, but I think they are tolerably good ones.” + </p> +<p> +The major now turned to Burton and said something in a low tone, to which +the other replied, “Well, if you say so, I’ll get it; but it’s devilish +dear.” + </p> +<p> +“Dear, my young friend! Cheap, dog cheap.” + </p> +<p> +“Only think, O’Malley, a whole brass bed, camp-stool, basin-stand, all +complete, for sixty pounds! If it was not that a widow was disposing of it +in great distress, one hundred could not buy it. Here we are; come along,—no +ceremony. Mind the two steps; that’s it, Mrs. Dalrymple, Mr. O’Malley; Mr. +Sparks, Mr. Burton, my daughters. Is tea over, girls?” + </p> +<p> +“Why, Papa, it’s nearly eleven o’clock,” said Fanny, as she rose to ring +the bell, displaying in so doing the least possible portion of a very +well-turned ankle. +</p> +<p> +Miss Matilda Dal laid down her book, but seemingly lost in abstraction, +did not deign to look at us. Mrs. Dalrymple, however, did the honors with +much politeness, and having by a few adroit and well-put queries +ascertained everything concerning our rank and position, seemed perfectly +satisfied that our intrusion was justifiable. +</p> +<p> +While my <i>confrère</i>, Mr. Sparks, was undergoing his examination I had +time to look at the ladies, whom I was much surprised at finding so very +well looking; and as the ensign had opened a conversation with Fanny, I +approached my chair towards the other, and having carelessly turned over +the leaves of the book she had been reading, drew her on to talk of it. As +my acquaintance with young ladies hitherto had been limited to those who +had “no soul,” I felt some difficulty at first in keeping up with the +exalted tone of my fair companion, but by letting her take the lead for +some time, I got to know more of the ground. We went on tolerably +together, every moment increasing my stock of technicals, which were all +that was needed to sustain the conversation. How often have I found the +same plan succeed, whether discussing a question of law or medicine, with +a learned professor of either! or, what is still more difficult, +canvassing the merits of a preacher or a doctrine with a serious young +lady, whose “blessed privileges” were at first a little puzzling to +comprehend. +</p> +<p> +I so contrived it, too, that Miss Matilda should seem as much to be making +a convert to her views as to have found a person capable of sympathizing +with her; and thus, long before the little supper, with which it was the +major’s practice to regale his friends every evening, made its appearance, +we had established a perfect understanding together,—a circumstance +that, a bystander might have remarked, was productive of a more widely +diffused satisfaction than I could have myself seen any just cause for. +Mr. Burton was also progressing, as the Yankees say, with the sister; +Sparks had booked himself as purchaser of military stores enough to make +the campaign of the whole globe; and we were thus all evidently fulfilling +our various vocations, and affording perfect satisfaction to our +entertainers. +</p> +<p> +Then came the spatch-cock, and the sandwiches, and the negus, which Fanny +first mixed for papa, and subsequently, with some little pressing, for Mr. +Burton; Matilda the romantic assisted <i>me</i>; Sparks helped himself. +Then we laughed, and told stories; pressed Sparks to sing, which, as he +declined, we only pressed the more. How, invariably, by-the-bye, is it the +custom to show one’s appreciation of anything like a butt by pressing him +for a song! The major was in great spirits; told us anecdotes of his early +life in India, and how he once contracted to supply the troops with milk, +and made a purchase, in consequence, of some score of cattle, which turned +out to be bullocks. Matilda recited some lines from Pope in my ear. Fanny +challenged Burton to a rowing match. Sparks listened to all around him, +and Mrs. Dalrymple mixed a very little weak punch, which Dr. Lucas had +recommended to her to take the last thing at night,—<i>Noctes +coenoeque</i> etc. Say what you will, these were very jovial little <i>réunions</i>. +The girls were decidedly very pretty. We were in high favor; and when we +took leave at the door, with a very cordial shake hands, it was with no <i>arrière +pensée</i> we promised to see them in the morning. +</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> +THE ENTANGLEMENT. +</p> +<p> +When we think for a moment over all the toils, all the anxieties, all the +fevered excitement of a <i>grande passion</i>, it is not a little singular +that love should so frequently be elicited by a state of mere idleness; +and yet nothing, after all, is so predisposing a cause as this. Where is +the man between eighteen and eight-and-thirty—might I not say forty—who, +without any very pressing duns, and having no taste for strong liquor and +<i>rouge-et-noir</i>, can possibly lounge through the long hours of his +day without at least fancying himself in love? The thousand little +occupations it suggests become a necessity of existence; its very worries +are like the wholesome opposition that purifies and strengthens the frame +of a free state. Then, what is there half so sweet as the reflective +flattery which results from our appreciation of an object who in return +deems us the <i>ne plus ultra</i> of perfection? There it is, in fact; +that confounded bump of self-esteem does it all, and has more imprudent +matches to answer for than all the occipital protuberances that ever +scared poor Harriet Martineau. +</p> +<p> +Now, to apply my moralizing. I very soon, to use the mess phrase, got +“devilish spooney” about the “Dals.” The morning drill, the riding-school, +and the parade were all most fervently consigned to a certain military +character that shall be nameless, as detaining me from some appointment +made the evening before; for as I supped there each night, a party of one +kind or another was always planned for the day following. Sometimes we had +a boating excursion to Cove, sometimes a picnic at Foaty; now a rowing +party to Glanmire, or a ride, at which I furnished the cavalry. These +doings were all under my especial direction, and I thus became speedily +the organ of the Dalrymple family; and the simple phrase, “It was Mr. +O’Malley’s arrangement,” “Mr. O’Malley wished it,” was like the <i>Moi le +roi</i> of Louis XIV. +</p> +<p> +Though all this while we continued to carry on most pleasantly, Mrs. +Dalrymple, I could perceive, did not entirely sympathize with our projects +of amusement. As an experienced engineer might feel when watching the +course of some storming projectile—some brilliant congreve—flying +over a besieged fortress, yet never touching the walls nor harming the +inhabitants, so she looked on at all these demonstrations of attack with +no small impatience, and wondered when would the breach be reported +practicable. Another puzzle also contributed its share of anxiety,—which +of the girls was it? To be sure, he spent three hours every morning with +Fanny; but then, he never left Matilda the whole evening. He had given his +miniature to one; a locket with his hair was a present to the sister. The +major thinks he saw his arm round Matilda’s waist in the garden; the +housemaid swears she saw him kiss Fanny in the pantry. Matilda smiles when +we talk of his name with her sister’s; Fanny laughs outright, and says, +“Poor Matilda! the man never dreamed of her.” This is becoming +uncomfortable. The major must ask his intentions. It is certainly one or +the other; but then, we have a right to know which. Such was a very +condensed view of Mrs. Dalrymple’s reflections on this important topic,—a +view taken with her usual tact and clear-sightedness. +</p> +<p> +Matters were in this state when Power at length arrived in Cork, to take +command of our detachment and make the final preparations for our +departure. I had been, as usual, spending the evening at the major’s, and +had just reached my quarters, when I found my friend sitting at my fire, +smoking his cigar and solacing himself with a little brandy-and-water. +</p> +<p> +“At last,” said he, as I entered,—“at last! Why, where the deuce +have you been till this hour,—past two o’clock? There is no ball, no +assembly going on, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said I, half blushing at the eagerness of the inquiry; “I’ve been +spending the evening with a friend.” + </p> +<p> +“Spending the evening! Say, rather, the night! Why, confound you, man, +what is there in Cork to keep you out of bed till near three?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, if you must know, I have been supping at a Major Dalrymple’s,—a +devilish good fellow, with two such daughters!” + </p> +<p> +“Ahem!” said Power, shutting one eye knowingly, and giving a look like a +Yorkshire horse-dealer. “Go on.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, what do you mean?” + </p> +<p> +“Go on; continue.” + </p> +<p> +“I’ve finished; I’ve nothing more to tell.” + </p> +<p> +“So, they’re here, are they?” said he, reflectingly. +</p> +<p> +“Who?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Matilda and Fanny, to be sure.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, you know them, then?” + </p> +<p> +“I should think I do.” + </p> +<p> +“Where have you met them?” + </p> +<p> +“Where have I not? When I was in the Rifles they were quartered at Zante. +Matilda was just then coming it rather strong with Villiers, of ours, a +regular greenhorn. Fanny, also, nearly did for Harry Nesbitt, by riding a +hurdle race. Then they left for Gibraltar, in the year,—what year +was it?” + </p> +<p> +“Come, come,” said I, “this is a humbug; the girls are quite young; you +just have heard their names.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, perhaps so; only tell me which is your peculiar weakness, as they +say in the west, and may be I’ll convince you.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, as to that,” said I, laughing, “I’m not very far gone on either +side.” + </p> +<p> +“Then, Matilda, probably, has not tried you with Cowley, eh?—you +look a little pink—‘There are hearts that live and love alone.’ Oh, +poor fellow, you’ve got it! By Jove, how you’ve been coming it, though, in +ten days! She ought not to have got to that for a month, at least; and how +like a young one it was, to be caught by the poetry. Oh, Master Charley, I +thought that the steeple-chaser might have done most with your Galway +heart,—the girl in the gray habit, that sings ‘Moddirederoo,’ ought +to have been the prize! Halt! by Saint George, but that tickles you also! +Why, zounds, if I go on, probably, at this rate, I’ll find a tender spot +occupied by the ‘black lady’ herself.” + </p> +<p> +It was no use concealing, or attempting to conceal, anything from my +inquisitive friend; so I mixed my grog, and opened my whole heart; told +how I had been conducting myself for the entire preceding fortnight; and +when I concluded, sat silently awaiting Power’s verdict, as though a jury +were about to pronounce upon my life. +</p> +<p> +“Have you ever written?” + </p> +<p> +“Never; except, perhaps, a few lines with tickets for the theatre, or +something of that kind.” + </p> +<p> +“Have you copies of your correspondence?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course not. Why, what do you mean?” + </p> +<p> +“Has Mrs. Dal ever been present; or, as the French say, has she assisted +at any of your tender interviews with the young ladies?” + </p> +<p> +“I’m not aware that one kisses a girl before mamma.” + </p> +<p> +“I’m not speaking of that; I merely allude to an ordinary flirtation.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I suppose she has seen me attentive.” + </p> +<p> +“Very awkward, indeed! There is only one point in your favor; for as your +attentions were not decided, and as the law does not, as yet, permit +polygamy—” + </p> +<p> +“Come, come, you know I never thought of marrying.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, but they did.” + </p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it.” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, but they did. What do you wager but that the major asks your +intentions, as he calls it, the moment he hears the transport has +arrived?” + </p> +<p> +“By Jove! now you remind me, he asked this evening, when he could have a +few minutes’ private conversation with me to-morrow, and I thought it was +about some confounded military chest or sea-store, or one of his infernal +contrivances that he every day assures me are indispensable; though, if +every officer had only as much baggage as I have got, under his +directions, it would take two armies, at least, to carry the effects of +the fighting one.” + </p> +<p> +“Poor fellow!” said he, starting upon his legs; “what a burst you’ve made +of it!” So saying, he began in a nasal twang,— +</p> +<p> +“I publish the banns of marriage between Charles O’Malley, late of his +Majesty’s 14th Dragoons, and ——— Dalrymple, spinster, of +this city—” + </p> +<p> +“I’ll be hanged if you do, though,” said I, seeing pretty clearly, by this +time, something of the estimation my friends were held in. “Come, Power, +pull me through, like a good fellow,—pull me through, without doing +anything to hurt the girls’ feelings.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, we’ll see about it,” said he,—“we’ll see about it in the +morning; but, at the same time, let me assure you, the affair is not so +easy as you may at first blush suppose. These worthy people have been so +often ‘done’—to use the cant phrase—before, that scarcely a <i>ruse</i> +remains untried. It is of no use pleading that your family won’t consent; +that your prospects are null; that you are ordered for India; that you are +engaged elsewhere; that you have nothing but your pay; that you are too +young or too old,—all such reasons, good and valid with any other +family, will avail you little here. Neither will it serve your cause that +you may be warranted by a doctor as subject to periodical fits of +insanity; monomaniacal tendencies to cut somebody’s throat, etc. Bless +your heart, man, they have a soul above such littlenesses! They care +nothing for consent of friends, means, age, health, climate, prospects, or +temper. Firmly believing matrimony to be a lottery, they are not +superstitious about the number they pitch upon; provided only that they +get a ticket, they are content.” + </p> +<p> +“Then it strikes me, if what you say is correct, that I have no earthly +chance of escape, except some kind friend will undertake to shoot me.” + </p> +<p> +“That has been also tried.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, how do you mean?” + </p> +<p> +“A mock duel, got up at mess,—we had one at Malta. Poor Vickers was +the hero of that affair. It was right well planned, too. One of the +letters was suffered, by mere accident, to fall into Mrs. Dal’s hands, and +she was quite prepared for the event when he was reported shot the next +morning. Then the young lady, of course, whether she cared or not, was +obliged to be perfectly unconcerned, lest the story of engaged affections +might get wind and spoil another market. The thing went on admirably, till +one day, some few months later, they saw, in a confounded army-list, that +the late George Vickers was promoted to the 18th Dragoons, so that the +trick was discovered, and is, of course, stale at present.” + </p> +<p> +“Then could I not have a wife already, and a large family of interesting +babies?” + </p> +<p> +“No go,—only swell the damages, when they come to prosecute. +Besides, your age and looks forbid the assumption of such a fact. No, no; +we must go deeper to work.” + </p> +<p> +“But where shall we go?” said I, impatiently; “for it appears to me these +good people have been treated to every trick and subterfuge that ever +ingenuity suggested.” + </p> +<p> +“Come, I think I have it; but it will need a little more reflection. So, +now, let us to bed. I’ll give you the result of my lucubrations at +breakfast; and, if I mistake not, we may get you through this without any +ill-consequences. Good-night, then, old boy; and now dream away of your +lady-love till our next meeting.” + </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> +THE PREPARATION. +</p> +<p> +To prevent needless repetitions in my story, I shall not record here the +conversation which passed between my friend Power and myself on the +morning following at breakfast. Suffice it to say, that the plan proposed +by him for my rescue was one I agreed to adopt, reserving to myself, in +case of failure, a <i>pis aller</i> of which I knew not the meaning, but +of whose efficacy Power assured me I need not doubt. +</p> +<p> +“If all fail,” said he,—“if every bridge break down beneath you, and +no road of escape be left, why, then, I believe you must have recourse to +another alternative. Still I should wish to avoid it, if possible, and I +put it to you, in honor, not to employ it unless as a last expedient. You +promise me this?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course,” said I, with great anxiety for the dread final measure. “What +is it?” + </p> +<p> +He paused, smiled dubiously, and resumed,— +</p> +<p> +“And, after all,—but, to be sure, there will not be need for it,—the +other plan will do,—must do. Come, come, O’Malley, the admiralty say +that nothing encourages drowning in the navy like a life-buoy. The men +have such a prospect of being picked up that they don’t mind falling +overboard; so, if I give you this life-preserver of mine, you’ll not swim +an inch. Is it not so, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“Far from it,” said I. “I shall feel in honor bound to exert myself the +more, because I now see how much it costs you to part with it.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, hear it. When everything fails; when all your resources are +exhausted; when you have totally lost your memory, in fact, and your +ingenuity in excuses say,—but mind, Charley, not till then,—say +that you must consult your friend, Captain Power, of the 14th; that’s +all.” + </p> +<p> +“And is this it?” said I, quite disappointed at the lame and impotent +conclusion to all the high-sounding exordium; “is this all?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” said he, “that is all. But stop, Charley; is not that the major +crossing the street there? Yes, to be sure it is; and, by Jove! he has got +on the old braided frock this morning. Had you not told me one word of +your critical position, I should have guessed there was something in the +wind from that. That same vestment has caused many a stout heart to +tremble that never quailed before a shot or shell.” + </p> +<p> +“How can that be? I should like to hear.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, my dear boy, that’s his explanation coat, as we called it at +Gibraltar. He was never known to wear it except when asking some poor +fellow’s ‘intentions.’ He would no more think of sporting it as an +every-day affair, than the chief-justice would go cook-shooting in his +black cap and ermine. Come, he is bound for your quarters, and as it will +not answer our plans to let him see you now, you had better hasten +down-stairs, and get round by the back way into George’s Street, and +you’ll be at his house before he can return.” + </p> +<p> +Following Power’s directions, I seized my foraging-cap and got clear out +of the premises before the major had reached them. It was exactly noon as +I sounded my loud and now well-known summons at the major’s knocker. The +door was quickly opened; but instead of dashing up-stairs, four steps at a +time, as was my wont, to the drawing-room, I turned short into the +dingy-looking little parlor on the right, and desired Matthew, the +venerable servitor of the house, to say that I wished particularly to see +Mrs. Dalrymple for a few minutes, if the hour were not inconvenient. +</p> +<p> +There was something perhaps of excitement in my manner, some flurry in my +look, or some trepidation in my voice, or perhaps it was the unusual hour, +or the still more remarkable circumstance of my not going at once to the +drawing-room, that raised some doubts in Matthew’s mind as to the object +of my visit; and instead of at once complying with my request to inform +Mrs. Dalrymple that I was there, he cautiously closed the door, and taking +a quick but satisfactory glance round the apartment to assure himself that +we were alone, he placed his back against it and heaved a deep sigh. +</p> +<p> +We were both perfectly silent: I in total amazement at what the old man +could possibly mean; he, following up the train of his own thoughts, +comprehended little or nothing of my surprise, and evidently was so +engrossed by his reflections that he had neither ears nor eyes for aught +around him. There was a most singular semi-comic expression in the old +withered face that nearly made me laugh at first; but as I continued to +look steadily at it, I perceived that, despite the long-worn wrinkles that +low Irish drollery and fun had furrowed around the angles of his mouth, +the real character of his look was one of sorrowful compassion. +</p> +<p> +Doubtless, my readers have read many interesting narratives wherein the +unconscious traveller in some remote land has been warned of a plan to +murder him, by some mere passing wink, a look, a sign, which some one, +less steeped in crime, less hardened in iniquity than his fellows, has +ventured for his rescue. Sometimes, according to the taste of the +narrator, the interesting individual is an old woman, sometimes a young +one, sometimes a black-bearded bandit, sometimes a child; and not +unfrequently, a dog is humane enough to do this service. One thing, +however, never varies,—be the agent biped or quadruped, dumb or +speechful, young or old, the stranger invariably takes the hint, and gets +off scott free for his sharpness. This never-varying trick on the doomed +man, I had often been sceptical enough to suspect; however, I had not been +many minutes a spectator of the old man’s countenance, when I most +thoroughly recanted my errors, and acknowledged myself wrong. If ever the +look of a man conveyed a warning, his did; but there was more in it than +even that,—there was a tone of sad and pitiful compassion, such as +an old gray-bearded rat might be supposed to put on at seeing a young and +inexperienced one opening the hinge of an iron trap, to try its efficacy +upon his neck. Many a little occasion had presented itself, during my +intimacy with the family, of doing Matthew some small services, of making +him some trifling presents; so that, when he assumed before me the gesture +and look I have mentioned, I was not long in deciphering his intentions. +</p> +<p> +“Matthew!” screamed a sharp voice which I recognized at once for that of +Mrs. Dalrymple. “Matthew! Where is the old fool?” + </p> +<p> +But Matthew heard not, or heeded not. +</p> +<p> +“Matthew! Matthew! I say.” + </p> +<p> +“I’m comin’, ma’am,” said he, with a sigh, as, opening the parlor-door, he +turned upon me one look of such import that only the circumstances of my +story can explain its force, or my reader’s own ingenious imagination can +supply. +</p> +<p> +“Never fear, my good old friend,” said I, grasping his hand warmly, and +leaving a guinea in the palm,—“never fear.” + </p> +<p> +“God grant it, sir!” said he, setting on his wig in preparation for his +appearance in the drawing-room. +</p> +<p> +“Matthew! The old wretch!” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley,” said the often-called Matthew, as opening the door, he +announced me unexpectedly among the ladies there assembled, who, not +hearing of my approach, were evidently not a little surprised and +astonished. Had I been really the enamored swain that the Dalrymple family +were willing to believe, I half suspect that the prospect before me might +have cured me of my passion. A round bullet-head, <i>papilloté</i>, with +the “Cork Observer,” where still-born babes and maids-of-all-work were +descanted upon in very legible type, was now the substitute for the +classic front and Italian ringlets of <i>la belle</i> Matilda; while the +chaste Fanny herself, whose feet had been a fortune for a statuary, was, +in the most slatternly and slipshod attire, pacing the room in a towering +rage, at some thing, place, or person, unknown (to me). If the +ballet-master at the <i>Académie</i> could only learn to get his imps, +demons, angels, and goblins “off” half as rapidly as the two young ladies +retreated on my being announced, I answer for the piece so brought out +having a run for half the season. Before my eyes had regained their +position parallel to the plane of the horizon, they were gone, and I found +myself alone with Mrs. Dalrymple. Now, she stood her ground, partly to +cover the retreat of the main body, partly, too, because—representing +the baggage wagons, ammunition stores, hospital, staff, etc.—her +retirement from the field demanded more time and circumspection than the +light brigade. +</p> +<p> +Let not my readers suppose that the <i>mère</i> Dalrymple was so perfectly +faultless in costume that her remaining was a matter of actual +indifference; far from it. She evidently had a struggle for it; but a +sense of duty decided her, and as Ney doggedly held back to cover the +retreating forces on the march from Moscow, so did she resolutely lurk +behind till the last flutter of the last petticoat assured her that the +fugitives were safe. Then did she hesitate for a moment what course to +take; but as I assumed my chair beside her, she composedly sat down, and +crossing her hands before her, waited for an explanation of this ill-timed +visit. +</p> +<p> +Had the Horse Guards, in the plenitude of their power and the perfection +of their taste, ordained that the 79th and 42d Regiments should in future, +in lieu of their respective tartans, wear flannel kilts and black worsted +hose, I could readily have fallen into the error of mistaking Mrs. +Dalrymple for a field officer in the new regulation dress; the philabeg +finding no mean representation in a capacious pincushion that hung down +from her girdle, while a pair of shears, not scissors, corresponded to the +dirk. After several ineffectual efforts on her part to make her vestment +(I know not its fitting designation) cover more of her legs than its +length could possibly effect, and after some most bland smiles and half +blushes at <i>dishabille</i>, etc., were over, and that I had apologized +most humbly for the unusually early hour of my call, I proceeded to open +my negotiations, and unfurl my banner for the fray. +</p> +<p> +“The old ‘Racehorse’ has arrived at last,” said I, with a half-sigh, “and +I believe that we shall not obtain a very long time for our leave-taking; +so that, trespassing upon your very great kindness, I have ventured upon +an early call.” + </p> +<p> +“The ‘Racehorse,’ surely can’t sail to-morrow,” said Mrs. Dalrymple, whose +experience of such matters made her a very competent judge; “her stores—” + </p> +<p> +“Are taken in already,” said I; “and an order from the Horse Guards +commands us to embark in twenty-four hours; so that, in fact, we scarcely +have time to look about us.” + </p> +<p> +“Have you seen the major?” inquired Mrs. Dalrymple, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Not to-day,” I replied, carelessly; “but, of course, during the morning +we are sure to meet. I have many thanks yet to give him for all his most +kind attentions.” + </p> +<p> +“I know he is most anxious to see you,” said Mrs. Dalrymple, with a very +peculiar emphasis, and evidently desiring that I should inquire the +reasons of this anxiety. I, however, most heroically forbore indulging my +curiosity, and added that I should endeavor to find him on my way to the +barracks; and then, hastily looking at my watch, I pronounced it a full +hour later than it really was, and promising to spend the evening—my +last evening—with them, I took my leave and hurried away, in no +small flurry to be once more out of reach of Mrs. Dalrymple’s fire, which +I every moment expected to open upon me. +</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> +THE SUPPER. +</p> +<p> +Power and I dined together <i>tête-à-tête</i> at the hotel, and sat +chatting over my adventures with the Dalrymples till nearly nine o’clock. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Charley,” said he, at length, “I see your eye wandering very often +towards the timepiece; another bumper, and I’ll let you off. What shall it +be?” + </p> +<p> +“What you like,” said I, upon whom a share of three bottles of strong +claret had already made a very satisfactory impression. +</p> +<p> +“Then champagne for the <i>coup-de-grace</i>. Nothing like your <i>vin +mousseux</i> for a critical moment,—every bubble that rises +sparkling to the surface prompts some bright thought, or elicits some +brilliant idea, that would only have been drowned in your more sober +fluids. Here’s to the girl you love, whoever she be.” + </p> +<p> +“To her bright eyes, then, be it,” said I, clearing off a brimming goblet +of nearly half the bottle, while my friend Power seemed multiplied into +any given number of gentlemen standing amidst something like a glass +manufactory of decanters. +</p> +<p> +“I hope you feel steady enough for this business,” said my friend, +examining me closely with the candle. +</p> +<p> +“I’m an archdeacon,” muttered I, with one eye involuntarily closing. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll not let them double on you!” + </p> +<p> +“Trust me, old boy,” said I, endeavoring to look knowing. +</p> +<p> +“I think you’ll do,” said he, “so now march. I’ll wait for you here, and +we’ll go on board together; for old Bloater the skipper says he’ll +certainly weigh by daybreak.” + </p> +<p> +“Till then,” said I, as opening the door, I proceeded very cautiously to +descend the stairs, affecting all the time considerable <i>nonchalance</i>, +and endeavoring, as well as my thickened utterance would permit, to hum:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Oh, love is the soul of an Irish dragoon.” + </pre> +<p> +If I was not in the most perfect possession of my faculties in the house, +the change to the open air certainly but little contributed to their +restoration; and I scarcely felt myself in the street when my brain became +absolutely one whirl of maddened and confused excitement. Time and space +are nothing to a man thus enlightened, and so they appeared to me; +scarcely a second had elapsed when I found myself standing in the +Dalrymples’ drawing-room. +</p> +<p> +If a few hours had done much to metamorphose <i>me</i>, certes, they had +done something for my fair friends also; anything more unlike what they +appeared in the morning can scarcely be imagined. Matilda in black, with +her hair in heavy madonna bands upon her fair cheek, now paler even than +usual, never seemed so handsome; while Fanny, in a light-blue dress, with +blue flowers in her hair, and a blue sash, looked the most lovely piece of +coquetry ever man set his eyes upon. The old major, too, was smartened up, +and put into an old regimental coat that he had worn during the siege of +Gibraltar; and lastly, Mrs. Dalrymple herself was attired in a very +imposing costume that made her, to my not over-accurate judgment, look +very like an elderly bishop in a flame-colored cassock. Sparks was the +only stranger, and wore upon his countenance, as I entered, a look of very +considerable embarrassment that even my thick-sightedness could not fail +of detecting. +</p> +<p> +<i>Parlez-moi de l’amitié</i>, my friends. Talk to me of the warm embrace +of your earliest friend, after years of absence; the cordial and heartfelt +shake hands of your old school companion, when in after years, a chance +meeting has brought you together, and you have had time and opportunity +for becoming distinguished and in repute, and are rather a good hit to be +known to than otherwise; of the close grip you give your second when he +comes up to say, that the gentleman with the loaded detonator opposite +won’t fire, that he feels he’s in the wrong. Any or all of these together, +very effective and powerful though they be, are light in the balance when +compared with the two-handed compression you receive from the gentleman +that expects you to marry one of his daughters. +</p> +<p> +“My dear O’Malley, how goes it? Thought you’d never come,” said he, still +holding me fast and looking me full in the face, to calculate the extent +to which my potations rendered his flattery feasible. +</p> +<p> +“Hurried to death with preparations, I suppose,” said Mrs. Dalrymple, +smiling blandly. “Fanny dear, some tea for him.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Mamma, he does not like all that sugar; surely not,” said she, +looking up with a most sweet expression, as though to say, “I at least +know his tastes.” + </p> +<p> +“I believed you were going without seeing us,” whispered Matilda, with a +very glassy look about the corner of her eyes. +</p> +<p> +Eloquence was not just then my forte, so that I contented myself with a +very intelligible look at Fanny, and a tender squeeze of Matilda’s hand, +as I seated myself at the table. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had I placed myself at the tea-table, with Matilda beside and +Fanny opposite me, each vying with the other in their delicate and kind +attentions, when I totally forgot all my poor friend Power’s injunctions +and directions for my management. It is true, I remembered that there was +a scrape of some kind or other to be got out of, and one requiring some +dexterity, too; but what or with whom I could not for the life of me +determine. What the wine had begun, the bright eyes completed; and amidst +the witchcraft of silky tresses and sweet looks, I lost all my reflection, +till the impression of an impending difficulty remained fixed in my mind, +and I tortured my poor, weak, and erring intellect to detect it. At last, +and by a mere chance, my eyes fell upon Sparks; and by what mechanism I +contrived it, I know not, but I immediately saddled him with the whole of +my annoyances, and attributed to him and to his fault any embarrassment I +labored under. +</p> +<p> +The physiological reason of the fact I’m very ignorant of, but for the +truth and frequency I can well vouch, that there are certain people, +certain faces, certain voices, certain whiskers, legs, waistcoats, and +guard-chains, that inevitably produce the most striking effects upon the +brain of a gentleman already excited by wine, and not exactly cognizant of +his own peculiar fallacies. +</p> +<p> +These effects are not produced merely among those who are quarrelsome in +their cups, for I call the whole 14th to witness that I am not such; but +to any person so disguised, the inoffensiveness of the object is no +security on the other hand,—for I once knew an eight-day clock +kicked down a barrack stairs by an old Scotch major, because he thought it +was laughing at him. To this source alone, whatever it be, can I attribute +the feeling of rising indignation with which I contemplated the luckless +cornet, who, seated at the fire, unnoticed and uncared for, seemed a very +unworthy object to vent anger or ill-temper upon. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Sparks, I fear,” said I, endeavoring at the time to call up a look of +very sovereign contempt,—“Mr. Sparks, I fear, regards my visit here +in the light of an intrusion.” + </p> +<p> +Had poor Mr. Sparks been told to proceed incontinently up the chimney +before him, he could not have looked more aghast. Reply was quite out of +his power. So sudden and unexpectedly was this charge of mine made that he +could only stare vacantly from one to the other; while I, warming with my +subject, and perhaps—but I’ll not swear it—stimulated by a +gentle pressure from a soft hand near me, continued:— +</p> +<p> +“If he thinks for one moment that my attentions in this family are in any +way to be questioned by him, I can only say—” + </p> +<p> +“My dear O’Malley, my dear boy!” said the major, with the look of a +father-in-law in his eye. +</p> +<p> +“The spirit of an officer and a gentleman spoke there,” said Mrs. +Dalrymple, now carried beyond all prudence by the hope that my attack +might arouse my dormant friend into a counter-declaration; nothing, +however, was further from poor Sparks, who began to think he had been +unconsciously drinking tea with five lunatics. +</p> +<p> +“If he supposes,” said I, rising from my chair, “that his silence will +pass with me as any palliation—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, dear! oh, dear! there will be a duel. Papa, dear, why don’t you speak +to Mr. O’Malley?” + </p> +<p> +“There now, O’Malley, sit down. Don’t you see he is quite in error?” + </p> +<p> +“Then let him say so,” said I, fiercely. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, yes, to be sure,” said Fanny. “Do say it; say anything he likes, Mr. +Sparks.” + </p> +<p> +“I must say,” said Mrs. Dalrymple, “however sorry I may feel in my own +house to condemn any one, that Mr. Sparks is very much in the wrong.” + </p> +<p> +Poor Sparks looked like a man in a dream. +</p> +<p> +“If he will tell Charles,—Mr. O’Malley, I mean,” said Matilda, +blushing scarlet, “that he meant nothing by what he said—” + </p> +<p> +“But I never spoke, never opened my lips!” cried out the wretched man, at +length sufficiently recovered to defend himself. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Sparks!” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Sparks!” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Sparks!” chorussed the three ladies. +</p> +<p> +While the old major brought up the rear with an “Oh, Sparks, I must say—” + </p> +<p> +“Then, by all the saints in the calendar, I must be mad,” said he; “but if +I have said anything to offend you, O’Malley, I am sincerely sorry for +it.” + </p> +<p> +“That will do, sir,” said I, with a look of royal condescension at the <i>amende</i> +I considered as somewhat late in coming, and resumed my seat. +</p> +<p> +This little <i>intermezzo</i>, it might be supposed, was rather calculated +to interrupt the harmony of our evening. Not so, however. I had apparently +acquitted myself like a hero, and was evidently in a white heat, in which +I could be fashioned into any shape. Sparks was humbled so far that he +would probably feel it a relief to make any proposition; so that by our +opposite courses we had both arrived at a point at which all the dexterity +and address of the family had been long since aiming without success. +Conversation then resumed its flow, and in a few minutes every trace of +our late <i>fracas</i> had disappeared. +</p> +<p> +By degrees I felt myself more and more disposed to turn my attention +towards Matilda, and dropping my voice into a lower tone, opened a +flirtation of a most determined kind. Fanny had, meanwhile, assumed a +place beside Sparks, and by the muttered tones that passed between them, I +could plainly perceive they were similarly occupied. The major took up the +“Southern Reporter,” of which he appeared deep in the contemplation, while +Mrs. Dal herself buried her head in her embroidery and neither heard nor +saw anything around her. +</p> +<p> +I know, unfortunately, but very little what passed between myself and my +fair companion; I can only say that when supper was announced at twelve +(an hour later than usual), I was sitting upon the sofa with my arm round +her waist, my cheek so close that already her lovely tresses brushed my +forehead, and her breath fanned my burning brow. +</p> +<p> +“Supper, at last,” said the major, with a loud voice, to arouse us from +our trance of happiness without taking any mean opportunity of looking +unobserved. “Supper, Sparks, O’Malley; come now, it will be some time +before we all meet this way again.” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps not so long, after all,” said I, knowingly. +</p> +<p> +“Very likely not,” echoed Sparks, in the same key. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve proposed for Fanny,” said he, whispering in my ear. +</p> +<p> +“Matilda’s mine,” replied I, with the look of an emperor. +</p> +<p> +“A word with you, Major,” said Sparks, his eye flashing with enthusiasm, +and his cheek scarlet. “One word,—I’ll not detain you.” + </p> +<p> +They withdrew into a corner for a few seconds, during which Mrs. Dalrymple +amused herself by wondering what the secret could be, why Mr. Sparks +couldn’t tell her, and Fanny meanwhile pretended to look for something at +a side table, and never turned her head round. +</p> +<p> +“Then give me your hand,” said the major, as he shook Sparks’s with a +warmth of whose sincerity there could be no question. “Bess, my love,” + said he, addressing his wife. The remainder was lost in a whisper; but +whatever it was, it evidently redounded to Sparks’s credit, for the next +moment a repetition of the hand-shaking took place, and Sparks looked the +happiest of men. +</p> +<p> +“<i>A mon tour</i>,” thought I, “now,” as I touched the major’s arm, and +led him towards the window. What I said may be one day matter for Major +Dalrymple’s memoirs, if he ever writes them; but for my part I have not +the least idea. I only know that while I was yet speaking he called over +Mrs. Dal, who, in a frenzy of joy, seized me in her arms and embraced me. +After which, I kissed her, shook hands with the major, kissed Matilda’s +hand, and laughed prodigiously, as though I had done something +confoundedly droll,—a sentiment evidently participated in by Sparks, +who laughed too, as did the others; and a merrier, happier party never sat +down to supper. +</p> +<p> +“Make your company pleased with themselves,” says Mr. Walker, in his <i>Original</i> +work upon dinner-giving, “and everything goes on well.” Now, Major +Dalrymple, without having read the authority in question, probably because +it was not written at the time, understood the principle fully as well as +the police-magistrate, and certainly was a proficient in the practice of +it. +</p> +<p> +To be sure, he possessed one grand requisite for success,—he seemed +most perfectly happy himself. There was that <i>air dégagé</i> about him +which, when an old man puts it on among his juniors, is so very +attractive. Then the ladies, too, were evidently well pleased; and the +usually austere mamma had relaxed her “rigid front” into a smile in which +any <i>habitué</i> of the house could have read our fate. +</p> +<p> +We ate, we drank, we ogled, smiled, squeezed hands beneath the table, and, +in fact, so pleasant a party had rarely assembled round the major’s +mahogany. As for me, I made a full disclosure of the most burning love, +backed by a resolve to marry my fair neighbor, and settle upon her a +considerably larger part of my native county than I had ever even rode +over. Sparks, on the other side, had opened his fire more cautiously, but +whether taking courage from my boldness, or perceiving with envy the +greater estimation I was held in, was now going the pace fully as fast as +myself, and had commenced explanations of his intentions with regard to +Fanny that evidently satisfied her friends. Meanwhile the wine was passing +very freely, and the hints half uttered an hour before began now to be +more openly spoken and canvassed. +</p> +<p> +Sparks and I hob-nobbed across the table and looked unspeakable things at +each other; the girls held down their heads; Mrs. Dal wiped her eyes; and +the major pronounced himself the happiest father in Europe. +</p> +<p> +It was now wearing late, or rather early; some gray streaks of dubious +light were faintly forcing their way through the half-closed curtains, and +the dread thought of parting first presented itself. A cavalry trumpet, +too, at this moment sounded a call that aroused us from our trance of +pleasure, and warned us that our moments were few. A dead silence crept +over all; the solemn feeling which leave-taking ever inspires was +uppermost, and none spoke. The major was the first to break it. +</p> +<p> +“O’Malley, my friend, and you, Mr. Sparks; I must have a word with you, +boys, before we part.” + </p> +<p> +“Here let it be, then, Major,” said I, holding his arm as he turned to +leave the room,—“here, now; we are all so deeply interested, no +place is so fit.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then,” said the major, “as you desire it, now that I’m to regard +you both in the light of my sons-in-law,—at least, as pledged to +become so,—it is only fair as respects—” + </p> +<p> +“I see,—I understand perfectly,” interrupted I, whose passion for +conducting the whole affair myself was gradually gaining on me. “What you +mean is, that we should make known our intentions before some mutual +friends ere we part; eh, Sparks? eh, Major?” + </p> +<p> +“Right, my boy,—right on every point.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, I thought of all that; and if you’ll just send your servant +over to my quarters for our captain,—he’s the fittest person, you +know, at such a time—” + </p> +<p> +“How considerate!” said Mrs. Dalrymple. +</p> +<p> +“How perfectly just his idea is!” said the major. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll then, in his presence, avow our present and unalterable +determination as regards your fair daughters; and as the time is short—” + </p> +<p> +Here I turned towards Matilda, who placed her arm within mine; Sparks +possessed himself of Fanny’s hand, while the major and his wife consulted +for a few seconds. +</p> +<p> +“Well, O’Malley, all you propose is perfect. Now, then, for the captain. +Who shall he inquire for?” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0240.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Charles Pops the Question. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Oh, an old friend of yours,” said I, jocularly; “you’ll be glad to see +him.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said all together. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, quite a surprise, I’ll warrant it.” + </p> +<p> +“Who can it be? Who on earth is it?” + </p> +<p> +“You can’t guess,” added I, with a very knowing look. “Knew you at Corfu; +a very intimate friend, indeed, if he tell the truth.” + </p> +<p> +A look of something like embarrassment passed around the circle at these +words, while I, wishing to end the mystery, resumed:— +</p> +<p> +“Come, then, who can be so proper for all parties, at a moment like this, +as our mutual friend Captain Power?” + </p> +<p> +Had a shell fallen into the cold grouse pie in the midst of us, scattering +death and destruction on every side, the effect could scarcely have been +more frightful than that my last words produced. Mrs. Dalrymple fell with +a sough upon the floor, motionless as a corpse; Fanny threw herself, +screaming, upon a sofa; Matilda went off into strong hysterics upon the +hearth-rug; while the major, after giving me a look a maniac might have +envied, rushed from the room in search of his pistols with a most terrific +oath to shoot somebody, whether Sparks or myself, or both of us, on his +return, I cannot say. Fanny’s sobs and Matilda’s cries, assisted by a +drumming process by Mrs. Dal’s heels upon the floor, made a most infernal +concert and effectually prevented anything like thought or reflection; and +in all probability so overwhelmed was I at the sudden catastrophe I had so +innocently caused, I should have waited in due patience for the major’s +return, had not Sparks seized my arm, and cried out,— +</p> +<p> +“Run for it, O’Malley; cut like fun, my boy, or we’re done for.” + </p> +<p> +“Run; why? What for? Where?” said I, stupefied by the scene before me. +</p> +<p> +“Here he is!” called out Sparks, as throwing up the window, he sprang out +upon the stone sill, and leaped into the street. I followed mechanically, +and jumped after him, just as the major had reached the window. A ball +whizzed by me, that soon determined my further movements; so, putting on +all speed, I flew down the street, turned the corner, and regained the +hotel breathless and without a hat, while Sparks arrived a moment later, +pale as a ghost, and trembling like an aspen-leaf. +</p> +<p> +“Safe, by Jove!” said Sparks, throwing himself into a chair, and panting +for breath. +</p> +<p> +“Safe, at last,” said I, without well knowing why or for what. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve had a sharp run of it, apparently,” said Power, coolly, and +without any curiosity as to the cause; “and now, let us on board; there +goes the trumpet again. The skipper is a surly old fellow, and we must not +lose his tide for him.” So saying, he proceeded to collect his cloaks, +cane, etc., and get ready for departure. +</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> +THE VOYAGE. +</p> +<p> +When I awoke from the long, sound sleep which succeeded my last adventure, +I had some difficulty in remembering where I was or how I had come there. +From my narrow berth I looked out upon the now empty cabin, and at length +some misty and confused sense of my situation crept slowly over me. I +opened the little shutter beside me and looked out. The bold headlands of +the southern coast were frowning in sullen and dark masses about a couple +of miles distant, and I perceived that we were going fast through the +water, which was beautifully calm and still. I now looked at my watch; it +was past eight o’clock; and as it must evidently be evening, from the +appearance of the sky, I felt that I had slept soundly for above twelve +hours. +</p> +<p> +In the hurry of departure the cabin had not been set to rights, and there +lay every species of lumber and luggage in all imaginable confusion. +Trunks, gun-cases, baskets of eggs, umbrellas, hampers of sea-store, +cloaks, foraging-caps, maps, and sword-belts were scattered on every side,—while +the <i>débris</i> of a dinner, not over-remarkable for its propriety in +table equipage, added to the ludicrous effect. The heavy tramp of a foot +overhead denoted the step of some one taking his short walk of exercise; +while the rough voice of the skipper, as he gave the word to “Go about!” + all convinced me that we were at last under way, and off to “the wars.” + </p> +<p> +The confusion our last evening on shore produced in my brain was such that +every effort I made to remember anything about it only increased my +difficulty, and I felt myself in a web so tangled and inextricable that +all endeavor to escape free was impossible. Sometimes I thought that I had +really married Matilda Dalrymple; then, I supposed that the father had +called me out, and wounded me in a duel; and finally, I had some confused +notion about a quarrel with Sparks, but what for, when, and how it ended, +I knew not. How tremendously tipsy I must have been! was the only +conclusion I could draw from all these conflicting doubts; and after all, +it was the only thing like fact that beamed upon my mind. How I had come +on board and reached my berth was a matter I reserved for future inquiry, +resolving that about the real history of my last night on shore I would +ask no questions, if others were equally disposed to let it pass in +silence. +</p> +<p> +I next began to wonder if Mike had looked after all my luggage, trunks, +etc., and whether he himself had been forgotten in our hasty departure. +About this latter point I was not destined for much doubt; for a +well-known voice, from the foot of the companion-ladder, at once +proclaimed my faithful follower, and evidenced his feelings at his +departure from his home and country. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Free was, at the time I mention, gathered up like a ball opposite a +small, low window that looked upon the bluff headlands now fast becoming +dim and misty as the night approached. He was apparently in low spirits, +and hummed in a species of low, droning voice, the following ballad, at +the end of each verse of which came an Irish chorus which, to the erudite +in such matters, will suggest the air of Moddirederoo:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +MICKEY FREE’S LAMENT. + +Then fare ye well, ould Erin dear; +To part, my heart does ache well: +From Carrickfergus to Cape Clear, +I’ll never see your equal. +And though to foreign parts we’re bound, +Where cannibals may ate us, +We’ll ne’er forget the holy ground +Of potteen and potatoes. +Moddirederoo aroo, aroo, etc. + +When good Saint Patrick banished frogs, +And shook them from his garment, +He never thought we’d go abroad, +To live upon such varmint; +Nor quit the land where whiskey grew +To wear King George’s button, +Take vinegar for mountain dew, +And toads for mountain mutton. +Moddirederoo aroo, aroo, etc. +</pre> +<p> +“I say, Mike, stop that confounded keen, and tell me where are we?” + </p> +<p> +“Off the ould head of Kinsale, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Where is Captain Power?” + </p> +<p> +“Smoking a cigar on deck, with the captain, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“And Mr. Sparks?” + </p> +<p> +“Mighty sick in his own state-room. Oh, but it’s himself has enough of +glory—bad luck to it!—by this time. He’d make your heart break +to look at him.” + </p> +<p> +“Who have you got on board besides?” + </p> +<p> +“The adjutant’s here, sir; and an old gentleman they call the major.” + </p> +<p> +“Not Major Dalrymple?” said I, starting up with terror at the thought, +“eh, Mike?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir, another major; his name is Mulroon, or Mundoon, or something +like that.” + </p> +<p> +“Monsoon, you son of a lumper potato,” cried out a surly, gruff voice from +a berth opposite. “Monsoon. Who’s at the other side?” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley, 14th,” said I, by way of introduction. +</p> +<p> +“My service to you, then,” said the voice. “Going to join your regiment?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; and you, are you bound on a similar errand?” + </p> +<p> +“No, Heaven be praised! I’m attached to the commissariat, and only going +to Lisbon. Have you had any dinner?” + </p> +<p> +“Not a morsel; have you?” + </p> +<p> +“No more than yourself; but I always lie by for three or four days this +way, till I get used to the confounded rocking and pitching, and with a +little grog and some sleep, get over the time gayly enough. Steward, +another tumbler like the last; there—very good—that will do. +Your good health, Mr.—what was it you said?” + </p> +<p> +“O’Malley.” + </p> +<p> +“O’Malley—your good health! Good-night.” And so ended our brief +colloquy, and in a few minutes more, a very decisive snore pronounced my +friend to be fulfilling his precept for killing the hours. +</p> +<p> +I now made the effort to emancipate myself from my crib, and at last +succeeded in getting on the floor, where, after one <i>chassez</i> at a +small looking-glass opposite, followed by a very impetuous rush at a +little brass stove, in which I was interrupted by a trunk and laid +prostrate, I finally got my clothes on, and made my way to the deck. +Little attuned as was my mind at the moment to admire anything like +scenery, it was impossible to be unmoved by the magnificent prospect +before me. It was a beautiful evening in summer; the sun had set above an +hour before, leaving behind him in the west one vast arch of rich and +burnished gold, stretching along the whole horizon, and tipping all the +summits of the heavy rolling sea, as it rolled on, unbroken by foam or +ripple, in vast moving mountains, from the far coast of Labrador. We were +already in blue water, though the bold cliffs that were to form our +departing point were but a few miles to leeward. There lay the lofty bluff +of Old Kinsale, whose crest, overhanging, peered from a summit of some +hundred feet into the deep water that swept its rocky base, many a tangled +lichen and straggling bough trailing in the flood beneath. Here and there +upon the coast a twinkling gleam proclaimed the hut of the fisherman, +whose swift hookers had more than once shot by us and disappeared in a +moment. The wind, which began to fall at sunset, freshened as the moon +rose; and the good ship, bending to the breeze, lay gently over, and +rushed through the waters with a sound of gladness. I was alone upon the +deck. Power and the captain, whom I expected to have found, had +disappeared somehow, and I was, after all, not sorry to be left to my own +reflections uninterrupted. +</p> +<p> +My thoughts turned once more to my home,—to my first, my best, +earliest friend, whose hearth I had rendered lonely and desolate, and my +heart sank within me as I remembered it. How deeply I reproached myself +for the selfish impetuosity with which I had ever followed any rising +fancy, any new and sudden desire, and never thought of him whose every +hope was in, whose every wish was for me. Alas! alas, my poor uncle! how +gladly would I resign every prospect my soldier’s life may hold out, with +all its glittering promise, and all the flattery of success, to be once +more beside you; to feel your warm and manly grasp; to see your smile; to +hear your voice; to be again where all our best feelings are born and +nurtured, our cares assuaged, our joys more joyed in, and our griefs more +wept,—at home! These very words have more music to my ears than all +the softest strains that ever siren sung. They bring us back to all we +have loved, by ties that are never felt but through such simple +associations. And in the earlier memories called up, our childish feelings +come back once more to visit us like better spirits, as we walk amidst the +dreary desolation that years of care and uneasiness have spread around us. +</p> +<p> +Wretched must he be who ne’er has felt such bliss; and thrice happy he +who, feeling it, knows that still there lives for him that same early +home, with all its loved inmates, its every dear and devoted object +waiting his coming and longing for his approach. +</p> +<p> +Such were my thoughts as I stood gazing at the bold line of coast now +gradually growing more and more dim while evening fell, and we continued +to stand farther out to sea. So absorbed was I all this time in my +reflections, that I never heard the voices which now suddenly burst upon +my ears quite close beside me. I turned, and saw for the first time that +at the end of the quarter-deck stood what is called a roundhouse, a small +cabin, from which the sounds in question proceeded. I walked gently +forward and peeped in, and certainly anything more in contrast with my +late revery need not be conceived. There sat the skipper, a bluff, +round-faced, jolly-looking little tar, mixing a bowl of punch at a table, +at which sat my friend Power, the adjutant, and a tall, meagre-looking +Scotchman, whom I once met in Cork, and heard that he was the doctor of +some infantry regiment. Two or three black bottles, a paper of cigars, and +a tallow candle were all the table equipage; but certainly the party +seemed not to want for spirits and fun, to judge from the hearty bursts of +laughing that every moment pealed forth, and shook the little building +that held them. Power, as usual with him, seemed to be taking the lead, +and was evidently amusing himself with the peculiarities of his +companions. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Adjutant, fill up; here’s to the campaign before us. We, at least, +have nothing but pleasure in the anticipation; no lovely wife behind; no +charming babes to fret and be fretted for, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“Vara true,” said the doctor, who was mated with a <i>tartar</i>, “ye maun +have less regrets at leaving hame; but a married man is no’ entirely +denied his ain consolations.” + </p> +<p> +“Good sense in that,” said the skipper; “a wide berth and plenty of sea +room are not bad things now and then.” + </p> +<p> +“Is that your experience also?” said Power, with a knowing look. “Come, +come, Adjutant, we’re not so ill off, you see; but, by Jove, I can’t +imagine how it is a man ever comes to thirty without having at least one +wife,—without counting his colonial possessions of course.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” said the adjutant, with a sigh, as he drained his glass to the +bottom. “It is devilish strange,—woman, lovely woman!” Here he +filled and drank again, as though he had been proposing a toast for his +own peculiar drinking. +</p> +<p> +“I say, now,” resumed Power, catching at once that there was something +working in his mind,—“I say, now, how happened it that you, a right +good-looking, soldier-like fellow, that always made his way among the fair +ones, with that confounded roguish eye and slippery tongue,—how the +deuce did it come to pass that you never married?” + </p> +<p> +“I’ve been more than once on the verge of it,” said the adjutant, smiling +blandly at the flattery. +</p> +<p> +“And nae bad notion yours just to stay there,” said the doctor, with a +very peculiar contortion of countenance. +</p> +<p> +“No pleasing you, no contenting a fellow like you,” said Power, returning +to the charge; “that’s the thing; you get a certain ascendancy; you have a +kind of success that renders you, as the French say, <i>téte montée</i>, +and you think no woman rich enough or good-looking enough or big enough.” + </p> +<p> +“No; by Jove you’re wrong,” said the adjutant, swallowing the bait, hook +and all,—“quite wrong there; for some how, all my life, I was +decidedly susceptible. Not that I cared much for your blushing sixteen, or +budding beauties in white muslin, fresh from a back-board and a governess; +no, my taste inclined rather to the more sober charms of two or +three-and-thirty, the <i>embonpoint</i>, a good foot and ankle, a sensible +breadth about the shoulders—” + </p> +<p> +“Somewhat Dutch-like, I take it,” said the skipper, puffing out a volume +of smoke; “a little bluff in the bows, and great stowage, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“You leaned then towards the widows?” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly; I confess, a widow always was my weakness. There was something I +ever liked in the notion of a woman who had got over all the awkward +girlishness of early years, and had that self-possession which habit and +knowledge of the world confer, and knew enough of herself to understand +what she really wished, and where she would really go.” + </p> +<p> +“Like the trade winds,” puffed the skipper. +</p> +<p> +“Then, as regards fortune, they have a decided superiority over the +spinster class. I defy any man breathing,—let him be half +police-magistrate, half chancellor,—to find out the figure of a +young lady’s dower. On your first introduction to the house, some kind +friend whispers, ‘Go it, old boy; forty thousand, not a penny less.’ A few +weeks later, as the siege progresses, a maiden aunt, disposed to puffing, +comes down to twenty; this diminishes again one half, but then ‘the money +is in bank stock, hard Three-and-a-Half.’ You go a little farther, and as +you sit one day over your wine with papa, he certainly promulgates the +fact that his daughter has five thousand pounds, two of which turn out to +be in Mexican bonds, and three in an Irish mortgage.” + </p> +<p> +“Happy for you,” interrupted Power, “that it be not in Galway, where a +proposal to foreclose, would be a signal for your being called out and +shot without benefit of clergy.” + </p> +<p> +“Bad luck to it, for Galway,” said the adjutant. “I was nearly taken in +there once to marry a girl that her brother-in-law swore had eight hundred +a year; and it came out afterwards that so she had, but it was for one +year only; and he challenged me for doubting his word too.” + </p> +<p> +“There’s an old formula for finding out an Irish fortune,” says Power, +“worth, all the algebra they ever taught in Trinity. Take the half of the +assumed sum, and divide it by three; the quotient will be a flattering +representative of the figure sought for.” + </p> +<p> +“Not in the north,” said the adjutant, firmly,—“not in the north, +Power. They are all well off there. There’s a race of canny, thrifty, +half-Scotch niggers,—your pardon, Doctor, they are all Irish,—linen-weaving, +Presbyterian, yarn-factoring, long-nosed, hard-drinking fellows, that lay +by rather a snug thing now and then. Do you know, I was very near it once +in the north. I’ve half a mind to tell you the story; though, perhaps, +you’ll laugh at me.” + </p> +<p> +The whole party at once protested that nothing could induce them to +deviate so widely from the line of propriety; and the skipper having mixed +a fresh bowl and filled all the glasses round, the cigars were lighted, +and the adjutant began. +</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 ADJUTANT’S STORY.—LIFE IN DERBY. +</p> +<p> +“It is now about eight, may be ten, years since we were ordered to march +from Belfast and take up our quarters in Londonderry. We had not been more +than a few weeks altogether in Ulster when the order came; and as we had +been, for the preceding two years, doing duty in the south and west, we +concluded that the island was tolerably the same in all parts. We opened +our campaign in the maiden city exactly as we had been doing with +‘unparalleled success’ in Cashel, Fermoy, Tuam, etc.,—that is to +say, we announced garrison balls and private theatricals; offered a cup to +be run for in steeple-chase; turned out a four-in-hand drag, with mottled +grays; and brought over two Deal boats to challenge the north.” + </p> +<p> +“The 18th found the place stupid,” said his companions. +</p> +<p> +“To be sure, they did; slow fellows like them must find any place stupid. +No dinners; but they gave none. No fun; but they had none in themselves. +In fact, we knew better; we understood how the thing was to be done, and +resolved that, as a mine of rich ore lay unworked, it was reserved for us +to produce the shining metal that others, less discerning, had failed to +discover. Little we knew of the matter; never was there a blunder like +ours. Were you ever in Derry?” + </p> +<p> +“Never,” said the three listeners. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, let me inform you that the place has its own peculiar +features. In the first place, all the large towns in the south and west +have, besides the country neighborhood that surrounds them, a certain +sprinkling of gentlefolk, who, though with small fortunes and not much +usage of the world, are still a great accession to society, and make up +the blank which, even in the most thickly peopled country, would be sadly +felt without them. Now, in Derry, there is none of this. After the great +guns—and, <i>per Baccho!</i> what great guns they are!—you +have nothing but the men engaged in commerce,—sharp, clever, shrewd, +well-informed fellows; they are deep in flax-seed, cunning in molasses, +and not to be excelled in all that pertains to coffee, sassafras, +cinnamon, gum, oakum, and elephants’ teeth. The place is a rich one, and +the spirit of commerce is felt throughout it. Nothing is cared for, +nothing is talked of, nothing alluded to, that does not bear upon this; +and, in fact, if you haven’t a venture in Smyrna figs, Memel timber, Dutch +dolls, or some such commodity, you are absolutely nothing, and might as +well be at a ball with a cork leg, or go deaf to the opera.” + </p> +<p> +“Now, when I’ve told thus much, I leave you to guess what impression our +triumphal entry into the city produced. Instead of the admiring crowds +that awaited us elsewhere, as we marched gayly into quarters, here we saw +nothing but grave, sober-looking, and, I confess it, intelligent-looking +faces, that scrutinized our appearance closely enough, but evidently with +no great approval and less enthusiasm. The men passed on hurriedly to the +counting-houses and wharves; the women, with almost as little interest, +peeped at us from the windows, and walked away again. Oh, how we wished +for Galway, glorious Galway, that paradise of the infantry that lies west +of the Shannon! Little we knew, as we ordered the band, in lively +anticipation of the gayeties before us, to strike up ‘Payne’s first set,’ +that, to the ears of the fair listeners in Ship Quay Street, the rumble of +a sugar hogshead or the crank of a weighing crane were more delightful +music.” + </p> +<p> +“By Jove!” interrupted Power, “you are quite right. Women are strongly +imitative in their tastes. The lovely Italian, whose very costume is a +natural following of a Raphael, is no more like the pretty Liverpool +damsel than Genoa is to Glasnevin; and yet what the deuce have they, dear +souls, with their feet upon a soft carpet and their eyes upon the pages of +Scott or Byron, to do with all the cotton or dimity that ever was printed? +But let us not repine; that very plastic character is our greatest +blessing.” + </p> +<p> +“I’m not so sure that it always exists,” said the doctor, dubiously, as +though his own experience pointed otherwise. +</p> +<p> +“Well, go ahead!” said the skipper, who evidently disliked the digression +thus interrupting the adjutant’s story. +</p> +<p> +“Well, we marched along, looking right and left at the pretty faces—and +there were plenty of them, too—that a momentary curiosity drew to +the windows; but although we smiled and ogled and leered as only a newly +arrived regiment can smile, ogle, or leer, by all that’s provoking we +might as well have wasted our blandishments upon the Presbyterian +meeting-house, that frowned upon us with its high-pitched roof and round +windows. +</p> +<p> +“‘Droll people, these,’ said one; ‘Rayther rum ones,’ cried another; ‘The +black north, by Jove!’ said a third: and so we went along to the barracks, +somewhat displeased to think that, though the 18th were slow, they might +have met their match. +</p> +<p> +“Disappointed, as we undoubtedly felt, at the little enthusiasm that +marked our <i>entrée</i>, we still resolved to persist in our original +plan, and accordingly, early the following morning, announced our +intention of giving amateur theatricals. The mayor, who called upon our +colonel, was the first to learn this, and received the information with +pretty much the same kind of look the Archbishop of Canterbury might be +supposed to assume if requested by a a friend to ride ‘a Derby.’ The +incredulous expression of the poor man’s face, as he turned from one of us +to the other, evidently canvassing in his mind whether we might not, by +some special dispensation of Providence, be all insane, I shall never +forget. +</p> +<p> +“His visit was a very short one; whether concluding that we were not quite +safe company, or whether our notification was too much for his nerves, I +know not. +</p> +<p> +“We were not to be balked, however. Our plans for gayety, long planned and +conned over, were soon announced in all form; and though we made efforts +almost super-human in the cause, our plays were performed to empty +benches, our balls were unattended, our picnic invitations politely +declined, and, in a word, all our advances treated with a cold and +chilling politeness that plainly said, ‘We’ll none of you.’ +</p> +<p> +“Each day brought some new discomfiture, and as we met at mess, instead of +having, as heretofore, some prospect of pleasure and amusement to chat +over, it was only to talk gloomily over our miserable failures, and lament +the dreary quarters that our fates had doomed us to. +</p> +<p> +“Some months wore on in this fashion, and at length—what will not +time do?—we began, by degrees, to forget our woes. Some of us took +to late hours and brandy-and-water; others got sentimental, and wrote +journals and novels and poetry; some made acquaintances among the +townspeople, and out in to a quiet rubber to pass the evening; while +another detachment, among which I was, got up a little love affair to +while away the tedious hours, and cheat the lazy sun. +</p> +<p> +“I have already said something of my taste in beauty; now, Mrs. Boggs was +exactly the style of woman I fancied. She was a widow; she had black eyes,—not +your jet-black, sparkling, Dutch-doll eyes, that roll about and twinkle, +but mean nothing; no, hers had a soft, subdued, downcast, pensive look +about them, and were fully as melting a pair of orbs as any blue eyes you +ever looked at. +</p> +<p> +“Then, she had a short upper lip, and sweet teeth; by Jove, they were +pearls! and she showed them too, pretty often. Her figure was +well-rounded, plump, and what the French call <i>nette</i>. To complete +all, her instep and ankle were unexceptional; and lastly, her jointure was +seven hundred pounds per annum, with a trifle of eight thousand more that +the late lamented Boggs bequeathed, when, after four months of +uninterrupted bliss, he left Derry for another world. +</p> +<p> +“When chance first threw me in the way of the fair widow, some casual +coincidence of opinion happened to raise me in her estimation, and I soon +afterwards received an invitation to a small evening party at her house, +to which I alone of the regiment was asked. +</p> +<p> +“I shall not weary you with the details of my intimacy; it is enough that +I tell you I fell desperately in love. I began by visiting twice or thrice +a week, and in less than two months, spent every morning at her house, and +rarely left it till the ‘Roast beef’ announced mess. +</p> +<p> +“I soon discovered the widow’s cue; she was serious. Now, I had conducted +all manner of flirtatious in my previous life; timid young ladies, manly +young ladies, musical, artistical, poetical, and hysterical,—bless +you, I knew them all by heart; but never before had I to deal with a +serious one, and a widow to boot. The case was a trying one. For some +weeks it was all very up-hill work; all the red shot of warm affection I +used to pour in on other occasions was of no use here. The language of +love, in which I was no mean proficient, availed me not. Compliments and +flattery, those rare skirmishers before the engagement, were denied me; +and I verily think that a tender squeeze of the hand would have cost me my +dismissal. +</p> +<p> +“‘How very slow, all this!’ thought I, as, at the end of two months siege, +I still found myself seated in the trenches, and not a single breach in +the fortress; ‘but, to be sure, it’s the way they have in the north, and +one must be patient.’ +</p> +<p> +“While thus I was in no very sanguine frame of mind as to my prospects, in +reality my progress was very considerable. Having become a member of Mr. +M’Phun’s congregation, I was gradually rising in the estimation of the +widow and her friends, whom my constant attendance at meeting, and my very +serious demeanor had so far impressed that very grave deliberation was +held whether I should not be made an elder at the next brevet. +</p> +<p> +“If the widow Boggs had not been a very lovely and wealthy widow; had she +not possessed the eyes, lips, hips, ankles, and jointure aforesaid,—I +honestly avow that neither the charms of that sweet man Mr. M’Phun’s +eloquence, nor even the flattering distinction in store for me, would have +induced me to prolong my suit. However, I was not going to despair when in +sight of land. The widow was evidently softened. A little time longer, and +the most scrupulous moralist, the most rigid advocate for employing time +wisely, could not have objected to my daily system of courtship. I was +none of your sighing, dying, ogling, hand-squeezing, waist-pressing, +oath-swearing, everlasting-adoring affairs, with an interchange of rings +and lockets; not a bit of it. It was confoundedly like a controversial +meeting at the Rotundo, and I myself had a far greater resemblance to +Father Tom Maguire than a gay Lothario. +</p> +<p> +“After all, when mess-time came, when the ‘Roast beef’ played, and we +assembled at dinner, and the soup and fish had gone round, with two +glasses of sherry in, my spirits rallied, and a very jolly evening +consoled me for all my fatigues and exertions, and supplied me with energy +for the morrow; for, let me observe here, that I only made love before +dinner. The evenings I reserved for myself, assuring Mrs. Boggs that my +regimental duties required all my time after mess hour, in which I was +perfectly correct: for at six we dined; at seven I opened the claret No. +1; at eight I had uncorked my second bottle; by half-past eight I was +returning to the sherry; and at ten, punctual to the moment, I was +repairing to my quarters on the back of my servant, Tim Daly, who had +carried me safely for eight years, without a single mistake, as the +fox-hunters say. This was a way we had in the —th. Every man was +carried away from mess, some sooner, some later. I was always an early +riser, and went betimes. +</p> +<p> +“Now, although I had very abundant proof, from circumstantial evidence, +that I was nightly removed from the mess-room to my bed in the mode I +mention, it would have puzzled me sorely to prove the fact in any direct +way; inasmuch as by half-past nine, as the clock chimed, and Tim entered +to take me, I was very innocent of all that was going on, and except a +certain vague sense of regret at leaving the decanter, felt nothing +whatever. +</p> +<p> +“It so chanced—what mere trifles are we ruled by in our destiny!—that +just as my suit with the widow had assumed its most favorable footing, old +General Hinks, that commanded the district, announced his coming over to +inspect our regiment. Over he came accordingly, and to be sure, we had a +day of it. We were paraded for six mortal hours; then we were marching and +countermarching, moving into line, back again into column, now forming +open column, then into square; till at last, we began to think that the +old general was like the Flying Dutchman, and was probably condemned to +keep on drilling us to the day of judgment. To be sure, he enlivened the +proceeding to me by pronouncing the regiment the worst-drilled and +appointed corps in the service, and the adjutant (me!) the stupidest +dunderhead—these were his words—he had ever met with. +</p> +<p> +“‘Never mind,’ thought I; ‘a few days more, and it’s little I’ll care for +the eighteen manoeuvres. It’s small trouble your eyes right or your left, +shoulders forward, will give me. I’ll sell out, and with the Widow Boggs +and seven hundred a year,—but no matter.’ +</p> +<p> +“This confounded inspection lasted till half-past five in the afternoon; +so that our mess was delayed a full hour in consequence, and it was past +seven as we sat down to dinner. Our faces were grim enough as we met +together at first; but what will not a good dinner and good wine do for +the surliest party? By eight o’clock we began to feel somewhat more +convivially disposed; and before nine, the decanters were performing a +quick-step round the table, in a fashion very exhilarating and very jovial +to look at. +</p> +<p> +“‘No flinching to-night,’ said the senior major. ‘We’ve had a severe day; +let us also have a merry evening.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘By Jove! Ormond,’ cried another, ‘we must not leave this to-night. +Confound the old humbugs and their musty whist party; throw them over.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I say, Adjutant,’ said Forbes; addressing me, ‘you’ve nothing particular +to say to the fair widow this evening? You’ll not bolt, I hope?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘That he sha’n’t,’ said one near me; ‘he must make up for his absence +to-morrow, for to-night we all stand fast.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Besides,’ said another, ‘she’s at meeting by this. Old—what-d’ye-call-him?—is +at fourteenthly before now.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘A note for you, sir,’ said the mess waiter, presenting me with a +rose-colored three-cornered billet. It was from <i>la chère</i> Boggs +herself, and ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +DEAR SIR,—Mr. M’Phun and a few friends are coming to tea at +my house after meeting; perhaps you will also favor us with your +company. +Yours truly, +ELIZA BOGGS. +</pre> +<p> +“What was to be done? Quit the mess; leave a jolly party just at the +jolliest moment; exchange Lafitte and red hermitage for a <i>soirée</i> of +elders, presided over by that sweet man, Mr. M’Phun! It was too bad!—but +then, how much was in the scale! What would the widow say if I declined? +What would she think? I well knew that the invitation meant nothing less +than a full-dress parade of me before her friends, and that to decline was +perhaps to forfeit all my hopes in that quarter forever. +</p> +<p> +“‘Any answer, sir?’ said the waiter. +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes,’ said I, in a half-whisper, ‘I’ll go,—tell the servant, I’ll +go.’ +</p> +<p> +“At this moment my tender epistle was subtracted from before me, and ere I +had turned round, had made the tour of half the table. I never perceived +the circumstance, however, and filling my glass, professed my resolve to +sit to the last, with a mental reserve to take my departure at the very +first opportunity. Ormond and the paymaster quitted the room for a moment, +as if to give orders for a broil at twelve, and now all seemed to promise +a very convivial and well-sustained party for the night. +</p> +<p> +“‘Is that all arranged?’ inquired the major, as Ormond entered. +</p> +<p> +“‘All right,’ said he; ‘and now let us have a bumper and a song. Adjutant, +old boy, give us a chant.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What shall it be, then?’ inquired I, anxious to cover my intended +retreat by any appearance of joviality. +</p> +<p> +“‘Give us— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“When I was in the Fusiliers +Some fourteen years ago.”’ +</pre> +<p> +“‘No, no; confound it! I’ve heard nothing else since I joined the +regiment. Let us have the “Paymaster’s Daughter.”’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah! that’s pathetic; I like that,’ lisped a young ensign. +</p> +<p> +“‘If I’m to have a vote,’ grunted out the senior major, ‘I pronounce for +“West India Quarters.”’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, yes,’ said half-a-dozen voices together; ‘let’s have “West India +Quarters.” Come, give him a glass of sherry, and let him begin.’ +</p> +<p> +“I had scarcely finished off my glass, and cleared my throat for my song, +when the clock on the chimney-piece chimed half-past nine, and the same +instant I felt a heavy hand fall upon my shoulder. I turned and beheld my +servant Tim. This, as I have already mentioned, was the hour at which Tim +was in the habit of taking me home to my quarters; and though we had dined +an hour later, he took no notice of the circumstance, but true to his +custom, he was behind my chair. A very cursory glance at my ‘familiar’ was +quite sufficient to show me that we had somehow changed sides; for Tim, +who was habitually the most sober of mankind, was, on the present +occasion, exceedingly drunk, while I, a full hour before that +consummation, was perfectly sober. +</p> +<p> +“‘What d’ye want, sir?’ inquired I, with something of severity in my +manner. +</p> +<p> +“‘Come home,’ said Tim, with a hiccough that set the whole table in a +roar. +</p> +<p> +“‘Leave the room this instant,’ said I, feeling wrath at being thus made a +butt of for his offences. ‘Leave the room, or I’ll kick you out of it.’ +Now, this, let me add in a parenthesis, was somewhat of a boast, for Tim +was six feet three, and strong in proportion, and when in liquor, fearless +as a tiger. +</p> +<p> +“‘You’ll kick me out of the room, eh, will you? Try, only try it, that’s +all.’ Here a new roar of laughter burst forth, while Tim, again placing an +enormous paw upon my shoulder, continued, ‘Don’t be sitting there, making +a baste of yourself, when you’ve got enough. Don’t you see you’re drunk?’ +</p> +<p> +“I sprang to my legs on this, and made a rush to the fireplace to secure +the poker; but Tim was beforehand with me, and seizing me by the waist +with both hands, flung me across his shoulders as though I were a baby, +saying, at the same time, ‘I’ll take you away at half-past eight +to-morrow, as you’re as rampageous again.’ I kicked, I plunged, I swore, I +threatened, I even begged and implored to be set down; but whether my +voice was lost in the uproar around me, or that Tim only regarded my +denunciations in the light of cursing, I know not, but he carried me +bodily down the stairs, steadying himself by one hand on the banisters, +while with the other he held me as in a vice. I had but one consolation +all this while; it was this, that as my quarters lay immediately behind +the mess-room, Tim’s excursion would soon come to an end, and I should be +free once more; but guess my terror to find that the drunken scoundrel, +instead of going as usual to the left, turned short to the right hand, and +marched boldly into Ship Quay Street. Every window in the mess-room was +filled with our fellows, absolutely shouting with laughter. ‘Go it Tim! +That’s the fellow! Hold him tight! Never let go!’ cried a dozen voices; +while the wretch, with the tenacity of drunkenness, gripped me still +harder, and took his way down the middle of the street. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0260.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="The Adjutant’s After Dinner Ride." + /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“It was a beautiful evening in July, a soft summer night, as I made this +pleasing excursion down the most frequented thoroughfare in the maiden +city, my struggles every moment exciting roars of laughter from an +increasing crowd of spectators, who seemed scarcely less amused than +puzzled at the exhibition. In the midst of a torrent of imprecations +against my torturer, a loud noise attracted me. I turned my head, and saw,—horror +of horrors!—the door of the meeting-house just flung open, and the +congregation issuing forth <i>en masse</i>. Is it any wonder if I remember +no more? There I was, the chosen one of the widow Boggs, the elder elect, +the favored friend and admired associate of Mr. M’Phun, taking an airing +on a summer’s evening on the back of a drunken Irishman. Oh, the thought +was horrible! and certainly the short and pithy epithets by which I was +characterized in the crowd, neither improved my temper nor assuaged my +wrath, and I feel bound to confess that my own language was neither +serious nor becoming. Tim, however, cared little for all this, and pursued +the even tenor of his way through the whole crowd, nor stopped till, +having made half the circuit of the wall, he deposited me safe at my own +door; adding, as he set me down, ‘Oh, av you’re as throublesome every +evening, it’s a wheelbarrow I’ll be obleeged to bring for you!’ +</p> +<p> +“The next day I obtained a short leave of absence, and ere a fortnight +expired, exchanged into the —th, preferring Halifax itself to the +ridicule that awaited me in Londonderry.” + </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> +FRED POWER’S ADVENTURE IN PHILIPSTOWN. +</p> +<p> +The lazy hours of the long summer day crept slowly over. The sea, unbroken +by foam or ripple, shone like a broad blue mirror, reflecting here and +there some fleecy patches of snow-white cloud as they stood unmoved in the +sky. The good ship rocked to and fro with a heavy and lumbering motion, +the cordage rattled, the bulkheads creaked, the sails flapped lazily +against the masts, the very sea-gulls seemed to sleep as they rested on +the long swell that bore them along, and everything in sea and sky bespoke +the calm. No sailor trod the deck; no watch was stirring; the very tiller +ropes were deserted; and as they traversed backwards and forwards with +every roll of the vessel, told that we had no steerage-way, and lay a mere +log upon the water. +</p> +<p> +I sat alone in the bow, and fell into a musing fit upon the past and the +future. How happily for us is it ordained that in the most stirring +existences there are every here and there such little resting-spots of +reflection, from which, as from some eminence, we look back upon the road +we have been treading in life, and cast a wistful glance at the dark vista +before us! When first we set out upon our worldly pilgrimage, these are +indeed precious moments, when with buoyant heart and spirit high, +believing all things, trusting all things, our very youth comes back to +us, reflected from every object we meet; and like Narcissus, we are but +worshipping our own image in the water. As we go on in life, the cares, +the anxieties, and the business of the world engross us more and more, and +such moments become fewer and shorter. Many a bright dream has been +dissolved, many a fairy vision replaced, by some dark reality; blighted +hopes, false friendships have gradually worn callous the heart once alive +to every gentle feeling, and time begins to tell upon us,—yet still, +as the well-remembered melody to which we listened with delight in infancy +brings to our mature age a touch of early years, so will the very +association of these happy moments recur to us in our revery, and make us +young again in thought. Then it is that, as we look back upon our worldly +career, we become convinced how truly is the child the father of the man, +how frequently are the projects of our manhood the fruit of some boyish +predilection; and that in the emulative ardor that stirs the schoolboy’s +heart, we may read the <i>prestige</i> of that high daring that makes a +hero of its possessor. +</p> +<p> +These moments, too, are scarcely more pleasurable than they are salutary +to us. Disengaged for the time from every worldly anxiety, we pass in +review before our own selves, and in the solitude of our own hearts are we +judged. That still small voice of conscience, unheard and unlistened to +amidst the din and bustle of life, speaks audibly to us now; and while +chastened on one side by regrets, we are sustained on the other by some +approving thought; and with many a sorrow for the past, and many a promise +for the future, we begin to feel “how good it is for us to be here.” + </p> +<p> +The evening wore later; the red sun sank down upon the sea, growing larger +and larger; the long line of mellow gold that sheeted along the distant +horizon grew first of a dark ruddy tinge, then paler and paler, till it +became almost gray; a single star shone faintly in the east, and darkness +soon set in. With night came the wind, for almost imperceptibly the sails +swelled slowly out, a slight rustle at the bow followed, the ship lay +gently over, and we were once more in motion. It struck four bells; some +casual resemblance in the sound of the old pendulum that marked the hour +at my uncle’s house startled me so that I actually knew not where I was. +With lightning speed my once home rose up before me with its happy hearts; +the old familiar faces were there; the gay laugh was in my ears; there sat +my dear old uncle, as with bright eye and mellow voice he looked a very +welcome to his guests; there Boyle; there Considine; there the +grim-visaged portraits that graced the old walls whose black oak wainscot +stood in broad light and shadow, as the blazing turf fire shone upon it; +there was my own place, now vacant; methought my uncle’s eye was turned +towards it and that I heard him say, “My poor boy! I wonder where is he +now!” My heart swelled, my chest heaved, the tears coursed slowly down my +cheeks, as I asked myself, “Shall I ever see them more?” Oh, how little, +how very little to us are the accustomed blessings of our life till some +change has robbed us of them, and how dear are they when lost to us! My +uncle’s dark foreboding that we should never meet again on earth, came for +the first time forcibly to my mind, and my heart was full to bursting. +What could repay me for the agony of that moment as I thought of him, my +first, my best, my only friend, whom I had deserted? And how gladly would +I have resigned my bright day-dawn of ambition to be once more beside his +chair, to hear his voice, to see his smile, to feel his love for me! A +loud laugh from the cabin roused me from my sad, depressing revery, and at +the same instant Mike’s well-known voice informed me that the captain was +looking for me everywhere, as supper was on the table. Little as I felt +disposed to join the party at such a moment, as I knew there was no +escaping Power, I resolved to make the best of matters; so after a few +minutes I followed Mickey down the companion and entered the cabin. +</p> +<p> +The scene before me was certainly not calculated to perpetuate depressing +thoughts. At the head of a rude old-fashioned table, upon which figured +several black bottles and various ill-looking drinking vessels of every +shape and material, sat Fred Power; on his right was placed the skipper, +on his left the doctor,—the bronzed, merry-looking, weather-beaten +features of the one contrasting ludicrously with the pale, ascetic, +acute-looking expression of the other. Sparks, more than half-drunk, with +the mark of a red-hot cigar upon his nether lip, was lower down; while +Major Monsoon, to preserve the symmetry of the party, had protruded his +head, surmounted by a huge red nightcap, from the berth opposite, and held +out his goblet to be replenished from the punch-bowl. +</p> +<p> +“Welcome, thrice welcome, thou man of Galway!” cried out Power, as he +pointed to a seat, and pushed a wine-glass towards me. “Just in time, too, +to pronounce upon a new brewery. Taste that; a little more of the lemon +you would say, perhaps? Well, I agree with you. Rum and brandy, glenlivet +and guava jelly, limes, green tea, and a slight suspicion of preserved +ginger,—nothing else, upon honor,—and the most simple mixture +for the cure, the radical cure, of blue devils and debt I know of; eh, +Doctor? You advise it yourself, to be taken before bed-time; nothing +inflammatory in it, nothing pugnacious; a mere circulation of the better +juices and more genial spirits of the marly clay, without arousing any of +the baser passions; whiskey is the devil for that.” + </p> +<p> +“I canna say that I dinna like whiskey toddy,” said the doctor; “in the +cauld winter nights it’s no sae bad.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, that’s it,” said Power; “there’s the pull you Scotch have upon us +poor Patlanders,—cool, calculating, long-headed fellows, you only +come up to the mark after fifteen tumblers; whereas we hot-brained devils, +with a blood at 212 degrees of Fahrenheit and a high-pressure engine of +good spirits always ready for an explosion, we go clean mad when tipsy; +not but I am fully convinced that a mad Irishman is worth two sane people +of any other country under heaven.” + </p> +<p> +“If you mean by that insin—insin—sinuation to imply any +disrespect to the English,” stuttered out Sparks, “I am bound to say that +I for one, and the doctor, I am sure, for another—” + </p> +<p> +“Na, na,” interrupted the doctor, “ye mauna coont upon me; I’m no disposed +to fetch ower our liquor.” + </p> +<p> +“Then, Major Monsoon, I’m certain—” + </p> +<p> +“Are ye, faith?” said the major, with a grin; “blessed are they who expect +nothing,—of which number you are not,—for most decidedly you +shall be disappointed.” + </p> +<p> +“Never mind, Sparks, take the whole fight to your own proper self, and do +battle like a man; and here I stand, ready at all arms to prove my +position,—that we drink better, sing better, court better, fight +better, and make better punch than every John Bull, from Berwick to the +Land’s End.” + </p> +<p> +Sparks, however, who seemed not exactly sure how far his antagonist was +disposed to quiz, relapsed into a half-tipsy expression of contemptuous +silence, and sipped his liquor without reply. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Power, after a pause, “bad luck to it for whiskey; it nearly +got me broke once, and poor Tom O’Reilly of the 5th, too, the +best-tempered fellow in the service. We were as near it as touch and go; +and all for some confounded Loughrea spirits that we believed to be +perfectly innocent, and used to swill away freely without suspicion of any +kind.” + </p> +<p> +“Let’s hear the story,” said I, “by all means.” + </p> +<p> +“It’s not a long one,” said Power, “so I don’t care if I tell it; and +besides, if I make a clean breast of my own sins, I’ll insist upon +Monsoon’s telling you afterwards how he stocked his cellar in Cadiz. Eh, +Major; there’s worse tipple than the King of Spain’s sherry?” + </p> +<p> +“You shall judge for yourself, old boy,” said Monsoon, good-humoredly; +“and as for the narrative, it is equally at your service. Of course it +goes no further. The commander-in-chief, long life to him! is a glorious +fellow; but he has no more idea of a joke than the Archbishop of +Canterbury, and it might chance to reach him.” + </p> +<p> +“Recount, and fear not!” cried Power; “we are discreet as the worshipful +company of apothecaries.” + </p> +<p> +“But you forget you are to lead the way.” + </p> +<p> +“Here goes, then,” said the jolly captain; “not that the story has any +merit in it, but the moral is beautiful. +</p> +<p> +“Ireland, to be sure, is a beautiful country; but somehow it would prove a +very dull one to be quartered in, if it were not that the people seem to +have a natural taste for the army. From the belle of Merrion Square down +to the inn-keeper’s daughter in Tralee, the loveliest part of the creation +seem to have a perfect appreciation of our high acquirements and +advantages; and in no other part of the globe, the Tonga Islands included, +is a red-coat more in favor. To be sure, they would be very ungrateful if +it were not the case; for we, upon our side, leave no stone unturned to +make ourselves agreeable. We ride, drink, play, and make love to the +ladies from Fairhead to Killarney, in a way greatly calculated to render +us popular; and as far as making the time pass pleasantly, we are the boys +for the ‘greatest happiness’ principle. I repeat it; we deserve our +popularity. Which of us does not get head and ears in debt with garrison +balls and steeple-chases, picnics, regattas, and the thousand-and-one +inventions to get rid of one’s spare cash,—so called for being so +sparingly dealt out by our governors? Now and then, too, when all else +fails, we take a newly-joined ensign and make him marry some pretty but +penniless lass in a country town, just to show the rest that we are not +joking, but have serious ideas of matrimony in the midst of all our +flirtations. If it were all like this, the Green Isle would be a paradise; +but unluckily every now and then one is condemned to some infernal place +where there is neither a pretty face nor tight ankle, where the priest +himself is not a good fellow, and long, ill-paved, straggling streets, +filled on market days with booths of striped calico and soapy cheese, is +the only promenade, and a ruinous barrack, with mouldy walls and a +tumbling chimney, the only quarters. +</p> +<p> +“In vain, on your return from your morning stroll or afternoon canter, you +look on the chimney-piece for a shower of visiting-cards and pink notes of +invitation; in vain you ask your servant, ‘Has any one called.’ Alas, your +only visitor has been the ganger, to demand a party to assist in +still-hunting amidst that interesting class of the population who, having +nothing to eat, are engaged in devising drink, and care as much for the +life of a red-coat as you do for that of a crow or a curlew. This may seem +overdrawn; but I would ask you, Were you ever for your sins quartered in +that capital city of the Bog of Allen they call Philipstown? Oh, but it is +a romantic spot! They tell us somewhere that much of the expression of the +human face divine depends upon the objects which constantly surround us. +Thus the inhabitants of mountain districts imbibe, as it were, a certain +bold and daring character of expression from the scenery, very different +from the placid and monotonous look of those who dwell in plains and +valleys; and I can certainly credit the theory in this instance, for every +man, woman, and child you meet has a brown, baked, scruffy, turf-like +face, that fully satisfies you that if Adam were formed of clay the +Philipstown people were worse treated and only made of bog mould. +</p> +<p> +“Well, one fine morning poor Tom and myself were marched off from Birr, +where one might ‘live and love forever,’ to take up our quarters at this +sweet spot. Little we knew of Philipstown; and like my friend the adjutant +there, when he laid siege to Derry, we made our <i>entrée</i> with all the +pomp we could muster, and though we had no band, our drums and fifes did +duty for it; and we brushed along through turf-creels and wicker-baskets +of new brogues that obstructed the street till we reached the barrack,—the +only testimony of admiration we met with being, I feel bound to admit, +from a ragged urchin of ten years, who, with a wattle in his hand, +imitated me as I marched along, and when I cried halt, took his leave of +us by dexterously fixing his thumb to the side of his nose and +outstretching his fingers, as if thus to convey a very strong hint that we +were not half so fine fellows as we thought ourselves. Well, four mortal +summer months of hot sun and cloudless sky went over, and still we +lingered in that vile village, the everlasting monotony of our days being +marked by the same brief morning drill, the same blue-legged chicken +dinner, the same smoky Loughrea whiskey, and the same evening stroll along +the canal bank to watch for the Dublin packet-boat, with its never-varying +cargo of cattle-dealers, priests, and peelers on their way to the west +country, as though the demand for such colonial productions in these parts +was insatiable. This was pleasant, you will say; but what was to be done? +We had nothing else. Now, nothing saps a man’s temper like <i>ennui</i>. +The cranky, peevish people one meets with would be excellent folk, if they +only had something to do. As for us, I’ll venture to say two men more +disposed to go pleasantly down the current of life it were hard to meet +with; and yet, such was the consequence of these confounded four months’ +sequestration from all other society, we became sour and cross-grained, +everlastingly disputing about trifles, and continually arguing about +matters which neither were interested in, nor, indeed, knew anything +about. There were, it is true, few topics to discuss; newspapers we never +saw; sporting there was none,—but then, the drill, the return of +duty, the probable chances of our being ordered for service, were all +daily subjects to be talked over, and usually with considerable asperity +and bitterness. One point, however, always served us when hard pushed for +a bone of contention; and which, begun by a mere accident at first, +gradually increased to a sore and peevish subject, and finally led to the +consequences which I have hinted at in the beginning. This was no less +than the respective merits of our mutual servants; each everlastingly +indulging in a tirade against the other for awkwardness, incivility, +unhandiness,—charges, I am bound to confess, most amply proved on +either side. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, I am sure, O’Reilly, if you can stand that fellow, it’s no affair +of mine; but such an ungainly savage I never met,’ I would say. +</p> +<p> +“To which he would reply, ‘Bad enough he is, certainly; but, by Jove! when +I only think of your Hottentot, I feel grateful for what I’ve got.’ +</p> +<p> +“Then ensued a discussion, with attack, rejoinder, charge, and +recrimination till we retired for the night, wearied with our exertions, +and not a little ashamed of ourselves at bottom for our absurd warmth and +excitement. In the morning the matter would be rigidly avoided by each +party until some chance occasion had brought it on the <i>tapis</i>, when +hostilities would be immediately renewed, and carried on with the same +vigor, to end as before. +</p> +<p> +“In this agreeable state of matters we sat one warm summer evening before +the mess-room, under the shade of a canvas awning, discussing, by way of +refrigerant, our eighth tumbler of whiskey punch. We had, as usual, been +jarring away about everything under heaven. A lately arrived post-chaise, +with an old, stiff-looking gentleman in a queue, had formed a kind of +‘godsend’ for debate, as to who he was, whither he was going, whether he +really had intended to spend the night there, or that he only put up +because the chaise was broken; each, as was customary, maintaining his own +opinion with an obstinacy we have often since laughed at, though, at the +time, we had few mirthful thoughts about the matter. +</p> +<p> +“As the debate waxed warm, O’Reilly asserted that he positively knew the +individual in question to be a United Irishman, travelling with +instructions from the French government; while I laughed him to scorn by +swearing that he was the rector of Tyrrell’s Pass, that I knew him well, +and, moreover, that he was the worst preacher in Ireland. Singular enough +it was that all this while the disputed identity was himself standing +coolly at the inn window, with his snuff-box in his hand, leisurely +surveying us as we sat, appearing, at least, to take a very lively +interest in our debate. +</p> +<p> +“‘Come, now,’ said O’Reilly, ‘there’s only one way to conclude this, and +make you pay for your obstinacy. What will you bet that he’s the rector of +Tyrrell’s Pass?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What odds will you take that he’s Wolfe Tone?’ inquired I, sneeringly. +</p> +<p> +“‘Five to one against the rector,’ said he, exultingly. +</p> +<p> +“‘An elephant’s molar to a toothpick against Wolfe Tone,’ cried I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Ten pounds even that I’m nearer the mark than you,’ said Tom, with a +smash of his fist upon the table. +</p> +<p> +“‘Done,’ said I,—‘done. But how are we to decide the wager?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘That’s soon done,’ said he. At the same instant he sprang to his legs +and called out: ‘Pat, I say, Pat, I want you to present my respects to—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘No, no, I bar that; no <i>ex parte</i> statements. Here, Jem, do you +simply tell that—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘That fellow can’t deliver a message. Do come here, Pat. Just beg of—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘He’ll blunder it, the confounded fool; so, Jem, do you go.’ +</p> +<p> +“The two individuals thus addressed were just in the act of conveying a +tray of glasses and a spiced round of beef for supper into the mess-room; +and as I may remark that they fully entered into the feelings of jealousy +their respective masters professed, each eyed the other with a look of +very unequivocal dislike. +</p> +<p> +“‘Arrah! you needn’t be pushing me that way,’ said Pat, ‘an’ the round o’ +beef in my hands.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Devil’s luck to ye, it’s the glasses you’ll be breaking with your +awkward elbow!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Then, why don’t ye leave the way? Ain’t I your suparior?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ain’t I the captain’s own man?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ay, and if you war. Don’t I belong to his betters? Isn’t my master the +two liftenants?’ +</p> +<p> +“This, strange as it may sound, was so far true, as I held a commission in +an African corps, with my lieutenancy in the 5th. +</p> +<p> +“‘Be-gorra, av he was six—There now, you done it!’ +</p> +<p> +“At the same moment, a tremendous crash took place and the large dish fell +in a thousand pieces on the pavement, while the spiced round rolled +pensively down the yard. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0271.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="The Rival Flunkies. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Scarcely was the noise heard when, with one vigorous kick, the tray of +glasses was sent spinning into the air, and the next moment the disputants +were engaged in bloody battle. It was at this moment that our attention +was first drawn towards them, and I need not say with what feelings of +interest we looked on. +</p> +<p> +“‘Hit him, Pat—there, Jem, under the guard! That’s it—go in! +Well done, left hand! By Jove! that was a facer! His eye’s closed—he’s +down! Not a bit of it—how do you like that? Unfair, unfair! No such thing! +I say it was! Not at all—I deny it!’ +</p> +<p> +“By this time we had approached the combatants, each man patting his own +fellow on the back, and encouraging him by the most lavish promises. Now +it was, but in what way I never could exactly tell, that I threw out my +right hand to stop a blow that I saw coming rather too near me, when, by +some unhappy mischance, my doubled fist lighted upon Tom O’Reilly’s nose. +Before I could express my sincere regret for the accident, the blow was +returned with double force, and the next moment we were at it harder than +the others. After five minutes’ sharp work, we both stopped for breath, +and incontinently burst out a-laughing. There was Tom, with a nose as +large as three, a huge cheek on one side, and the whole head swinging +round like a harlequin’s; while I, with one eye closed, and the other like +a half-shut cockle-shell, looked scarcely less rueful. We had not much +time for mirth, for at the same instant a sharp, full voice called out +close beside us— +</p> +<p> +“To your quarters, sirs. I put you both under arrest, from which you are +not to be released until the sentence of a court-martial decide if conduct +such as this becomes officers and gentlemen.’ +</p> +<p> +“I looked round, and saw the old fellow in the queue. +</p> +<p> +“‘Wolfe Tone, by all that’s unlucky!’ said I, with an attempt at a smile. +</p> +<p> +“‘The rector of Tyrrell’s Pass,’ cried out Tom, with a snuffle; ‘the worst +preacher in Ireland—eh, Fred?’ +</p> +<p> +“We had not much time for further commentaries upon our friend, for he at +once opened his frock coat, and displayed to our horrified gaze the +uniform of a general officer. +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, sir, General Johnson, if you will allow me to present him to your +acquaintance; and now, guard, turn out.’ +</p> +<p> +“In a few minutes more the orders were issued, and poor Tom and myself +found ourselves fast confined to our quarters, with a sentinel at the +door, and the pleasant prospect that, in the space of about ten days, we +should be broke, and dismissed the service; which verdict, as the general +order would say, the commander of the forces has been graciously pleased +to approve. +</p> +<p> +“However, when morning came the old general, who was really a trump, +inquired a little further into the matter, saw it was partly accidental, +and after a severe reprimand, and a caution about Loughrea whiskey after +the sixth tumbler, released us from arrest, and forgave the whole affair.” + </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> +THE VOYAGE CONTINUED. +</p> +<p> +Ugh, what a miserable thing is a voyage! Here we are now eight days at +sea, the eternal sameness of all around growing every hour less +supportable. Sea and sky are beautiful things when seen from the dark +woods and waving meadows on shore; but their picturesque effect is sadly +marred from want of contrast. Besides that, the “<i>toujours</i> pork,” + with crystals of salt as long as your wife’s fingers; the potatoes that +seemed varnished in French polish; the tea seasoned with geological +specimens from the basin of London, ycleped maple sugar; and the butter—ye +gods, the butter! But why enumerate these smaller features of discomfort +and omit the more glaring ones?—the utter selfishness which blue +water suggests, as inevitably as the cold fit follows the ague. The good +fellow that shares his knapsack or his last guinea on land, here forages +out the best corner to hang his hammock; jockeys you into a comfortless +crib, where the uncalked deck-butt filters every rain from heaven on your +head; votes you the corner at dinner, not only that he may place you with +your back to the thorough-draught of the gangway ladder, but that he may +eat, drink, and lie down before you have even begun to feel the +qualmishness that the dinner of a troop-ship is well calculated to +suggest; cuts his pencil with your best razor; wears your shirts, as +washing is scarce; and winds up all by having a good story of you every +evening for the edification of the other “sharp gentlemen,” who, being too +wide awake to be humbugged themselves, enjoy his success prodigiously. +This, gentle reader, is neither confession nor avowal of mine. The passage +I have here presented to you I have taken from the journal of my brother +officer, Mr. Sparks, who, when not otherwise occupied, usually employed +his time in committing to paper his thoughts upon men, manners, and things +at sea in general; though, sooth to say, his was not an idle life. Being +voted by unanimous consent “a junior,” he was condemned to offices that +the veriest fag in Eton or Harrow had rebelled against. In the morning, +under the pseudonym of <i>Mrs</i>. Sparks, he presided at breakfast, +having previously made tea, coffee, and chocolate for the whole cabin, +besides boiling about twenty eggs at various degrees of hardness; he was +under heavy recognizances to provide a plate of buttered toast of very +alarming magnitude, fried ham, kidneys, etc., to no end. Later on, when +others sauntered about the deck, vainly endeavoring to fix their attention +upon a novel or a review, the poor cornet might be seen with a white apron +tucked gracefully round his spare proportions, whipping eggs for pancakes, +or, with upturned shirt-sleeves, fashioning dough for a pudding. As the +day waned, the cook’s galley became his haunt, where, exposed to a +roasting fire, he inspected the details of a <i>cuisine</i>; for which, +whatever his demerits, he was sure of an ample remuneration in abuse at +dinner. Then came the dinner itself, that dread ordeal, where nothing was +praised and everything censured. This was followed by the punch-making, +where the tastes of six different and differing individuals were to be +exclusively consulted in the self-same beverage; and lastly, the supper at +night, when Sparkie, as he was familiarly called, towards evening grown +quite exhausted, became the subject of unmitigated wrath and most +unmeasured reprobation. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Sparks, it’s getting late. The spatch-cock, old boy. Don’t be +slumbering.” + </p> +<p> +“By-the-bye, Sparkie, what a mess you made of that pea-soup to-day! By +Jove, I never felt so ill in my life!” + </p> +<p> +“Na, na; it was na the soup. It was something he pit in the punch, that’s +burning me ever since I tuk it. Ou, man, but ye’re an awfu’ creture wi’ +vittals!” + </p> +<p> +“He’ll improve, Doctor; he’ll improve. Don’t discourage him; the boy’s +young. Be alive now, there. Where’s the toast?—confound you, where’s +the toast?” + </p> +<p> +“There, Sparks, you like a drumstick, I know. Mustn’t muzzle the ox, eh? +Scripture for you, old boy. Eat away; hang the expense. Hand him over the +jug. Empty—eh, Charley? Come, Sparkie, bear a hand; the liquor’s +out.” + </p> +<p> +“But won’t you let me eat?” + </p> +<p> +“Eat! Heavens, what a fellow for eating! By George, such an appetite is +clean against the articles of war! Come, man, it’s drink we’re thinking +of. There’s the rum, sugar, limes; see to the hot water. Well, Skipper, +how are we getting on?” + </p> +<p> +“Lying our course; eight knots off the log. Pass the rum. Why, Mister +Sparks!” + </p> +<p> +“Eh, Sparks, what’s this?” + </p> +<p> +“Sparks, my man, confound it!” + </p> +<p> +And then, <i>omnes</i> chorussing “Sparks!” in every key of the gamut, the +luckless fellow would be obliged to jump up from his meagre fare and set +to work at a fresh brewage of punch for the others. The bowl and the +glasses filled, by some little management on Power’s part our friend the +cornet would be <i>drawn out</i>, as the phrase is, into some confession +of his early years, which seemed to have been exclusively spent in +love-making,—devotion to the fair being as integral a portion of his +character as tippling was of the worthy major’s. +</p> +<p> +Like most men who pass their lives in over-studious efforts to please,—however +ungallant the confession be,—the amiable Sparks had had little +success. His love, if not, as it generally happened, totally unrequited, +was invariably the source of some awkward catastrophe, there being no +imaginable error he had not at some time or other fallen into, nor any +conceivable mischance to which he had not been exposed. Inconsolable +widows, attached wives, fond mothers, newly-married brides, engaged young +ladies were by some <i>contretemps</i> continually the subject of his +attachments; and the least mishap which followed the avowal of his passion +was to be heartily laughed at and obliged to leave the neighborhood. +Duels, apologies, actions at law, compensations, etc., were of every-day +occurrence, and to such an extent, too, that any man blessed with a +smaller bump upon the occiput would eventually have long since abandoned +the pursuit, and taken to some less expensive pleasure. But poor Sparks, +in the true spirit of a martyr, only gloried the more, the more he +suffered; and like the worthy man who continued to purchase tickets in the +lottery for thirty years, with nothing but a succession of blanks, he ever +imagined that Fortune was only trying his patience, and had some cool +forty thousand pounds of happiness waiting his perseverance in the end. +Whether this prize ever did turn up in the course of years, I am unable to +say; but certainly, up to the period of his history I now speak of, all +had been as gloomy and unrequiting as need be. Power, who knew something +of every man’s adventures, was aware of so much of poor Sparks’s career, +and usually contrived to lay a trap for a confession that generally served +to amuse us during an evening,—as much, I acknowledge, from the +manner of the recital as anything contained in the story. There was a +species of serious matter-of-fact simplicity in his detail of the most +ridiculous scenes that left you convinced that his bearing upon the affair +in question must have greatly heightened the absurdity,—nothing, +however comic or droll in itself, ever exciting in him the least approach +to a smile. He sat with his large light-blue eyes, light hair, long upper +lip, and retreating chin, lisping out an account of an adventure, with a +look of Listen about him that was inconceivably amusing. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Sparks,” said Power, “I claim a promise you made me the other +night, on condition we let you off making the oyster-patties at ten +o’clock; you can’t forget what I mean.” Here the captain knowingly touched +the tip of his ear, at which signal the cornet colored slightly, and drank +off his wine in a hurried, confused way. “He promised to tell us, Major, +how he lost the tip of his left ear. I have myself heard hints of the +circumstance, but would much rather hear Sparks’s own version of it.” + </p> +<p> +“Another love story,” said the doctor, with a grin, “I’ll be bound.” + </p> +<p> +“Shot off in a duel?” said I, inquiringly. “Close work, too.” + </p> +<p> +“No such thing,” replied Power; “but Sparks will enlighten you. It is, +without exception, the most touching and beautiful thing I ever heard. As +a simple story, it beats the ‘Vicar of Wakefield’ to sticks.” + </p> +<p> +“You don’t say so?” said poor Sparks, blushing. +</p> +<p> +“Ay, that I do; and maintain it, too. I’d rather be the hero of that +little adventure, and be able to recount it as you do,—for, mark me, +that’s no small part of the effect,—than I’d be full colonel of the +regiment. Well, I am sure I always thought it affecting. But, somehow, my +dear friend, you don’t know your powers; you have that within you would +make the fortune of half the periodicals going. Ask Monsoon or O’Malley +there if I did not say so at breakfast, when you were grilling the old +hen,—which, by-the-bye, let me remark, was not one of your <i>chefs-d’oeuvre</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“A tougher beastie I never put a tooth in.” + </p> +<p> +“But the story, the story,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Power, with a tone of command, “the story, Sparks.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, if you really think it worth telling, as I have always felt it a +very remarkable incident, here goes.” + </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> +MR. SPARKS’S STORY. +</p> +<p> +“I sat at breakfast one beautiful morning at the Goat Inn at Barmouth, +looking out of a window upon the lovely vale of Barmouth, with its tall +trees and brown trout-stream struggling through the woods, then turning to +take a view of the calm sea, that, speckled over with white-sailed +fishing-boats, stretched away in the distance. The eggs were fresh; the +trout newly caught; the cream delicious. Before me lay the ‘Plwdwddlwn +Advertiser,’ which, among the fashionable arrivals at the seaside, set +forth Mr. Sparks, nephew of Sir Toby Sparks, of Manchester,—a +paragraph, by the way, I always inserted. The English are naturally an +aristocratic people, and set a due value upon a title.” + </p> +<p> +“A very just observation,” remarked Power, seriously, while Sparks +continued. +</p> +<p> +“However, as far as any result from the announcement, I might as well have +spared myself the trouble, for not a single person called. Not one +solitary invitation to dinner, not a picnic, not a breakfast, no, nor even +a tea-party, was heard of. Barmouth, at the time I speak of, was just in +that transition state at which the caterpillar may be imagined, when, +having abandoned his reptile habits, he still has not succeeded in +becoming a butterfly. In fact, it had ceased to be a fishing village, but +had not arrived at the dignity of a watering-place. Now, I know nothing as +bad as this. You have not, on one hand, the quiet retirement of a little +peaceful hamlet, with its humble dwellings and cheap pleasures, nor have +you the gay and animated tableau of fashion in miniature, on the other; +but you have noise, din, bustle, confusion, beautiful scenery and lovely +points of view marred and ruined by vulgar associations. Every bold rock +and jutting promontory has its citizen occupants; every sandy cove or +tide-washed bay has its myriads of squalling babes and red baize-clad +bathing women,—those veritable descendants of the nymphs of old. +Pink parasols, donkey-carts, baskets of bread-and-butter, reticules, +guides to Barmouth, specimens of ore, fragments of gypsum meet you at +every step, and destroy every illusion of the picturesque.” + </p> +<p> +“‘I shall leave this,’ thought I. ‘My dreams, my long-cherished dreams of +romantic walks upon the sea-shore, of evening strolls by moonlight, +through dell and dingle, are reduced to a short promenade through an alley +of bathing-boxes, amidst a screaming population of nursery-maids and sick +children, with a thorough-bass of “Fresh shrimps!” discordant enough to +frighten the very fish from the shores. There is no peace, no quiet, no +romance, no poetry, no love.’ Alas, that most of all was wanting! For, +after all, what is it which lights up the heart, save the flame of a +mutual attachment? What gilds the fair stream of life, save the bright ray +of warm affection? What—” + </p> +<p> +“In a word,” said Power, “it is the sugar in the punch-bowl of our +existence. <i>Perge</i>, Sparks; push on.” + </p> +<p> +“I was not long in making up my mind. I called for my bill; I packed my +clothes; I ordered post-horses; I was ready to start; one item in the bill +alone detained me. The frequent occurrence of the enigmatical word ‘crw,’ +following my servant’s name, demanded an explanation, which I was in the +act of receiving, when a chaise-and-four drove rapidly up to the house. In +a moment the blinds were drawn up, and such a head appeared at the window! +Let me pause for one moment to drink in the remembrance of that lovely +being,—eyes where heaven’s own blue seemed concentrated were shaded +by long, deep lashes of the darkest brown; a brow fair, noble, and +expansive, at each side of which masses of dark-brown hair waved half in +ringlets, half in loose falling bands, shadowing her pale and downy cheek, +where one faint rosebud tinge seemed lingering; lips slightly parted, as +though to speak, gave to the features all the play of animation which +completed this intellectual character, and made up—” + </p> +<p> +“What I should say was a devilish pretty girl,” interrupted Power. +</p> +<p> +“Back the widow against her at long odds, any day,” murmured the adjutant. +</p> +<p> +“She was an angel! an angel!” cried Sparks with enthusiasm. +</p> +<p> +“So was the widow, if you go to that,” said the adjutant, hastily. +</p> +<p> +“And so is Matilda Dalrymple,” said Power, with a sly look at me. “We are +all honorable men; eh, Charley?” + </p> +<p> +“Go ahead with the story,” said the skipper; “I’m beginning to feel an +interest in it.” + </p> +<p> +“‘Isabella,’ said a man’s voice, as a large, well-dressed personage +assisted her to alight,—‘Isabella, love, you must take a little rest +here before we proceed farther.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I think she had better, sir,’ said a matronly-looking woman, with a +plaid cloak and a black bonnet. +</p> +<p> +“They disappeared within the house, and I was left alone. The bright dream +was past: she was there no longer; but in my heart her image lived, and I +almost felt she was before me. I thought I heard her voice, I saw her +move; my limbs trembled; my hands tingled; I rang the bell, ordered my +trunks back again to No. 5, and as I sank upon the sofa, murmured to +myself, ‘This is indeed love at first sight.’” + </p> +<p> +“How devilish sudden it was,” said the skipper. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly like camp fever,” responded the doctor. “One moment ye are vara +well; the next ye are seized wi’ a kind of shivering; then comes a kind of +mandering, dandering, travelling a’overness.” + </p> +<p> +“D—— the camp fever,” interrupted Power. +</p> +<p> +“Well, as I observed, I fell in love; and here let me take the opportunity +of observing that all that we are in the habit of hearing about single or +only attachments is mere nonsense. No man is so capable of feeling deeply +as he who is in the daily practice of it. Love, like everything else in +this world, demands a species of cultivation. The mere tyro in an affair +of the heart thinks he has exhausted all its pleasures and pains; but only +he who has made it his daily study for years, familiarizing his mind with +every phase of the passion, can properly or adequately appreciate it. +Thus, the more you love, the better you love; the more frequently has your +heart yielded—” + </p> +<p> +“It’s vara like the mucous membrane,” said the doctor. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll break your neck with the decanter if you interrupt him again!” + exclaimed Power. +</p> +<p> +“For days I scarcely ever left the house,” resumed Sparks, “watching to +catch one glance of the lovely Isabella. My farthest excursion was to the +little garden of the inn, where I used to set every imaginable species of +snare, in the event of her venturing to walk there. One day I would leave +a volume of poetry; another, a copy of Paul and Virginia with a marked +page; sometimes my guitar, with a broad, blue ribbon, would hang pensively +from a tree,—but, alas! all in vain; she never appeared. At length I +took courage to ask the waiter about her. For some minutes he could not +comprehend what I meant; but, at last, discovering my object, he cried +out, ‘Oh, No. 8, sir; it is No. 8 you mean?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘It may be,’ said I. ‘What of her, then?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, sir, she’s gone these three days.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Gone!’ said I, with a groan. +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, sir; she left this early on Tuesday with the same old gentleman and +the old woman in a chaise-and-four. They ordered horses at Dolgelly to +meet them; but I don’t know which road they took afterwards.’ +</p> +<p> +“I fell back on my chair unable to speak. Here was I enacting Romeo for +three mortal days to a mere company of Welsh waiters and chamber-maids, +sighing, serenading, reciting, attitudinizing, rose-plucking, +soliloquizing, half-suiciding, and all for the edification of a set of +savages, with about as much civilization as their own goats. +</p> +<p> +“‘The bill,’ cried I, in a voice of thunder; ‘my bill this instant.’ +</p> +<p> +“I had been imposed upon shamefully, grossly imposed upon, and would not +remain another hour in the house. Such were my feelings at least, and so +thinking, I sent for my servant, abused him for not having my clothes +ready packed. He replied; I reiterated, and as my temper mounted, vented +every imaginable epithet upon his head, and concluded by paying him his +wages and sending him about his business. In one hour more I was upon the +road. +</p> +<p> +“‘What road, sir,’ said the postilion, as he mounted into the saddle. +</p> +<p> +“‘To the devil, if you please,’ said I, throwing myself back in the +carriage. +</p> +<p> +“‘Very well, sir,’ replied the boy, putting spurs to his horse. +</p> +<p> +“That evening I arrived in Bedgellert. +</p> +<p> +“The little humble inn of Bedgellert, with its thatched roof and earthen +floor, was a most welcome sight to me, after eleven hours’ travelling on a +broiling July day. Behind the very house itself rose the mighty Snowdon, +towering high above the other mountains, whose lofty peaks were lost +amidst the clouds; before me was the narrow valley—” + </p> +<p> +“Wake me up when he’s under way again,” said the skipper, yawning +fearfully. +</p> +<p> +“Go on, Sparks,” said Power, encouragingly; “I was never more interested +in my life; eh, O’Malley?” + </p> +<p> +“Quite thrilling,” responded I, and Sparks resumed. +</p> +<p> +“Three weeks did I loiter about that sweet spot, my mind filled with +images of the past and dreams of the future, my fishing-rod my only +companion. Not, indeed, that I ever caught anything; for, somehow, my +tackle was always getting foul of some willow-tree or water-lily, and at +last, I gave up even the pretence of whipping the streams. Well, one day—I +remember it as well as though it were but yesterday, it was the 4th of +August—I had set off upon an excursion to Llanberris. I had crossed +Snowdon early, and reached the little lake on the opposite side by +breakfast time. There I sat down near the ruined tower of Dolbadern, and +opening my knapsack, made a hearty meal. I have ever been a day-dreamer; +and there are few things I like better than to lie, upon some hot and +sunny day, in the tall grass beneath the shade of some deep boughs, with +running water murmuring near, hearing the summer bee buzzing monotonously, +and in the distance, the clear, sharp tinkle of the sheep-bell. In such a +place, at such a time, one’s fancy strays playfully, like some happy +child, and none but pleasant thoughts present themselves. Fatigued by my +long walk, and overcome by heat, I fell asleep. How long I lay there I +cannot tell, but the deep shadows were half way down the tall mountain +when I awoke. A sound had startled me; I thought I heard a voice speaking +close to me. I looked up, and for some seconds I could not believe that I +was not dreaming. Beside me, within a few paces, stood Isabella, the +beautiful vision that I had seen at Barmouth, but far, a thousand times, +more beautiful. She was dressed in something like a peasant’s dress, and +wore the round hat which, in Wales at least, seems to suit the character +of the female face so well; her long and waving ringlets fell carelessly +upon her shoulders, and her cheek flushed from walking. Before I had a +moment’s notice to recover my roving thought, she spoke; her voice was +full and round, but soft and thrilling, as she said,— +</p> +<p> +“‘I beg pardon, sir, for having disturbed you unconsciously; but, having +done so, may I request you will assist me to fill this pitcher with +water?’ +</p> +<p> +“She pointed at the same time to a small stream which trickled down a +fissure in the rock, and formed a little well of clear water beneath. I +bowed deeply, and murmuring something, I know not what, took the pitcher +from her hand, and scaling the rocky cliff, mounted to the clear source +above, where having filled the vessel, I descended. When I reached the +ground beneath, I discovered that she was joined by another person whom, +in an instant, I recognized to be the old gentleman I had seen with her at +Barmouth, and who in the most courteous manner apologized for the trouble +I had been caused, and informed me that a party of his friends were +enjoying a little picnic quite near, and invited me to make one of them. +</p> +<p> +“I need not say that I accepted the invitation, nor that with delight I +seized the opportunity of forming an acquaintance with Isabella, who, I +must confess, upon her part showed no disinclination to the prospect of my +joining the party. +</p> +<p> +“After a few minutes’ walking, we came to a small rocky point which +projected for some distance into the lake, and offered a view for several +miles of the vale of Llanberris. Upon this lovely spot we found the party +assembled; they consisted of about fourteen or fifteen persons, all busily +engaged in the arrangement of a very excellent cold dinner, each +individual having some peculiar province allotted to him or her, to be +performed by their own hands. Thus, one elderly gentlemen was whipping +cream under a chestnut-tree, while a very fashionably-dressed young man +was washing radishes in the lake; an old lady with spectacles was frying +salmon over a wood-fire, opposite to a short, pursy man with a bald head +and drab shorts, deep in the mystery of a chicken salad, from which he +never lifted his eyes when I came up. It was thus I found how the fair +Isabella’s lot had been cast, as a drawer of water; she, with the others, +contributing her share of exertion for the common good. The old gentleman +who accompanied her seemed the only unoccupied person, and appeared to be +regarded as the ruler of the feast; at least, they all called him general, +and implicitly followed every suggestion he threw out. He was a man of a +certain grave and quiet manner, blended with a degree of mild good-nature +and courtesy, that struck me much at first, and gained greatly on me, even +in the few minutes I conversed with him as we came along. Just before he +presented me to his friends, he gently touched my arm, and drawing me +aside, whispered in my ear:— +</p> +<p> +“‘Don’t be surprised at anything you may hear to-day here; for I must +inform you this is a kind of club, as I may call it, where every one +assumes a certain character, and is bound to sustain it under a penalty. +We have these little meetings every now and then; and as strangers are +never present, I feel some explanation necessary, that you may be able to +enjoy the thing,—you understand?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, perfectly,’ said I, overjoyed at the novelty of the scene, and +anticipating much pleasure from my chance meeting with such very original +characters. +</p> +<p> +“‘Mr. Sparks, Mrs. Winterbottom. Allow me to present Mr. Sparks.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Any news from Batavia, young gentleman?’ said the sallow old lady +addressed. ‘How is coffee!’ +</p> +<p> +“The general passed on, introducing me rapidly as he went. +</p> +<p> +“‘Mr. Doolittle, Mr. Sparks.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah, how do you do, old boy?’ said Mr. Doolittle; ‘sit down beside me. We +have forty thousand acres of pickled cabbage spoiling for want of a little +vinegar.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Fie, fie, Mr. Doolittle,’ said the general, and passed on to another. +</p> +<p> +“‘Mr. Sparks, Captain Crosstree.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah, Sparks, Sparks! son of old Blazes! ha, ha, ha!’ and the captain fell +back into an immoderate fit of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“<i>‘Le Rio est serci</i>,’ said the thin meagre figure in nankeens, +bowing, cap in hand, before the general; and accordingly, we all assumed +our places upon the grass. +</p> +<p> +“‘Say it again! Say it again, and I’ll plunge this dagger in your heart!’ +said a hollow voice, tremulous with agitation and rage, close beside me. I +turned my head, and saw an old gentleman with a wart on his nose, sitting +opposite a meat-pie, which he was contemplating with a look of fiery +indignation. Before I could witness the sequel of the scene, I felt a soft +hand pressed upon mine. I turned. It was Isabella herself, who, looking at +me with an expression I shall never forget, said:— +</p> +<p> +“‘Don’t mind poor Faddy; he never hurts any one.’ +</p> +<p> +“Meanwhile the business of dinner went on rapidly. The servants, of whom +enormous numbers were now present, ran hither and thither; and duck, ham, +pigeon-pie, cold veal, apple tarts, cheese, pickled salmon, melon, and +rice pudding, flourished on every side. As for me, whatever I might have +gleaned from the conversation around under other circumstances, I was too +much occupied with Isabella to think of any one else. My suit—for +such it was—progressed rapidly. There was evidently something +favorable in the circumstances we last met under; for her manner had all +the warmth and cordiality of old friendship. It is true that, more than +once, I caught the general’s eye fixed upon us with anything but an +expression of pleasure, and I thought that Isabella blushed and seemed +confused also. ‘What care I?’ however, was my reflection; ‘my views are +honorable; and the nephew and heir of Sir Toby Sparks—’ Just in the +very act of making this reflection, the old man in the shorts hit me in +the eye with a roasted apple, calling out at the moment:— +</p> +<p> +“‘When did you join, thou child of the pale-faces?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Mr. Murdocks!’ cried the general, in a voice of thunder; and the little +man hung down his head, and spoke not. +</p> +<p> +“‘A word with you, young gentleman,’ said a fat old lady, pinching my arm +above the elbow. +</p> +<p> +“‘Never mind her,’ said Isabella, smiling; ‘poor dear old Dorking, she +thinks she’s an hour-glass. How droll, isn’t it?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Young man, have you any feelings of humanity?’ inquired the old lady, +with tears in her eyes as she spoke; ‘will you, dare you assist a +fellow-creature under my sad circumstances?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What can I do for you, Madam?’ said I, really feeling for her distress. +</p> +<p> +“‘Just like a good dear soul, just turn me up, for I’m nearly run out.’ +</p> +<p> +“Isabella burst out a laughing at the strange request,—an excess +which, I confess, I was unable myself to repress; upon which the old lady, +putting on a frown of the most ominous blackness, said:— +</p> +<p> +“‘You may laugh, Madam; but first before you ridicule the misfortunes of +others, ask yourself are you, too, free from infirmity? When did you see +the ace of spades, Madam? Answer me that.’ +</p> +<p> +“Isabella became suddenly pale as death; her very lips blanched, and her +voice, almost inaudible, muttered:— +</p> +<p> +“‘Am I, then, deceived? Is not this he?’ So saying, she placed her hand +upon my shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“‘That the ace of spades?’ exclaimed the old lady, with a sneer,—‘that +the ace of spades!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Are you, or are you not, sir?’ said Isabella, fixing her deep and +languid eyes upon me. ‘Answer me, as you are honest; are you the ace of +spades?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘He is the King of Tuscarora. Look at his war paint!’ cried an elderly +gentleman, putting a streak of mustard across my nose and cheek. +</p> +<p> +“‘Then am I deceived,’ said Isabella. And flying at me, she plucked a +handful of hair out of my whiskers. +</p> +<p> +“‘Cuckoo, cuckoo!’ shouted one; ‘Bow-wow-wow!’ roared another; ‘Phiz!’ +went a third; and in an instant, such a scene of commotion and riot +ensued. Plates, dishes, knives, forks, and decanters flew right and left; +every one pitched into his neighbor with the most fearful cries, and hell +itself seemed broke loose. The hour-glass and the Moulah of Oude had got +me down and were pummelling me to death, when a short, thickset man came +on all fours slap down upon them shouting out, ‘Way, make way for the +royal Bengal tiger!’ at which they both fled like lightning, leaving me to +the encounter single-handed. Fortunately, however, this was not of very +long duration, for some well-disposed Christians pulled him from off me; +not, however, before he had seized me in his grasp, and bitten off a +portion of my left ear, leaving me, as you see, thus mutilated for the +rest of my days.” + </p> +<p> +“What an extraordinary club,” broke in the doctor. +</p> +<p> +“Club, sir, club! it was a lunatic asylum. The general was no other than +the famous Dr. Andrew Moorville, that had the great madhouse at Bangor, +and who was in the habit of giving his patients every now and then a kind +of country party; it being one remarkable feature of their malady that +when one takes to his peculiar flight, whatever it be, the others +immediately take the hint and go off at score. Hence my agreeable +adventure: the Bengal tiger being a Liverpool merchant, and the most +vivacious madman in England; while the hour-glass and the Moulah were both +on an experimental tour to see whether they should not be pronounced +totally incurable for life.” + </p> +<p> +“And Isabella?” inquired Power. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, poor Isabella had been driven mad by a card-playing aunt at Bath, and +was in fact the most hopeless case there. The last words I heard her speak +confirmed my mournful impression of her case,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes,’ said she, as they removed her to her carriage, ‘I must, indeed, +have but a weak intellect, when I could have taken the nephew of a +Manchester cotton-spinner, with a face like a printed calico, for a trump +card, and the best in the pack!’” + </p> +<p> +Poor Sparks uttered these last words with a faltering accent, and +finishing his glass at one draught withdrew without wishing us good-night. +</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 SKIPPER. +</p> +<p> +In such like gossipings passed our days away, for our voyage itself had +nothing of adventure or incident to break its dull monotony; save some few +hours of calm, we had been steadily following our seaward track with a +fair breeze, and the long pennant pointed ever to the land where our +ardent expectations were hurrying before it. +</p> +<p> +The latest accounts which had reached us from the Peninsula told that our +regiment was almost daily engaged; and we burned with impatience to share +with the others the glory they were reaping. Power, who had seen service, +felt less on this score than we who had not “fleshed our maiden swords;” + but even he sometimes gave way, and when the wind fell toward sunset, he +would break out into some exclamation of discontent, half fearing we +should be too late. “For,” said he, “if we go on in this way the regiment +will be relieved and ordered home before we reach it.” + </p> +<p> +“Never fear, my boys, you’ll have enough of it. Both sides like the work +too well to give in; they’ve got a capital ground and plenty of spare +time,” said the major. +</p> +<p> +“Only to think,” cried Power, “that we should be lounging away our idle +hours when these gallant fellows are in the saddle late and early. It is +too bad; eh, O’Malley? You’ll not be pleased to go back with the polish on +your sabre? What will Lucy Dashwood say?” + </p> +<p> +This was the first allusion Power had ever made to her, and I became red +to the very forehead. +</p> +<p> +“By-the-bye,” added he, “I have a letter for Hammersley, which should +rather have been entrusted to your keeping.” + </p> +<p> +At these words I felt cold as death, while he continued:— +</p> +<p> +“Poor fellow! certainly he is most desperately smitten; for, mark me, when +a man at his age takes the malady, it is forty times as severe as with a +younger fellow, like you. But then, to be sure, he began at the wrong end +in the matter; why commence with papa? When a man has his own consent for +liking a girl, he must be a contemptible fellow if he can’t get her; and +as to anything else being wanting, I don’t understand it. But the moment +you begin by influencing the heads of the house, good-by to your chances +with the dear thing herself, if she have any spirit whatever. It is, in +fact, calling on her to surrender without the honors of war; and what girl +would stand that?” + </p> +<p> +“It’s vara true,” said the doctor; “there’s a strong speerit of opposition +in the sex, from physiological causes.” + </p> +<p> +“Curse your physiology, old Galen; what you call opposition, is that +piquant resistance to oppression that makes half the charm of the sex. It +is with them—with reverence be it spoken—as with horses: the +dull, heavy-shouldered ones, that bore away with the bit in their teeth, +never caring whether you are pulling to the right or to the left, are +worth nothing; the real luxury is in the management of your arching-necked +curvetter, springing from side to side with every motion of your wrist, +madly bounding at restraint, yet, to the practised hand, held in check +with a silk tread. Eh, Skipper, am I not right?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I can’t say I’ve had much to do with horse-beasts, but I believe +you’re not far wrong. The lively craft that answers the helm quick, goes +round well in stays, luffs up close within a point or two, when you want +her, is always a good sea-boat, even though she pitches and rolls a bit; +but the heavy lugger that never knows whether your helm is up or down, +whether she’s off the wind or on it, is only fit for firewood,—you +can do nothing with a ship or a woman if she hasn’t got steerage way on +her.” + </p> +<p> +“Come, Skipper, we’ve all been telling our stories; let us hear one of +yours?” + </p> +<p> +“My yarn won’t come so well after your sky-scrapers of love and courting +and all that. But if you like to hear what happened to me once, I have no +objection to tell you. +</p> +<p> +“I often think how little we know what’s going to happen to us any minute +of our lives. To-day we have the breeze fair in our favor, we are going +seven knots, studding-sails set, smooth water, and plenty of sea-room; +to-morrow the wind freshens to half a gale, the sea gets up, a rocky coast +is seen from the lee bow, and may be—to add to all—we spring a +leak forward; but then, after all, bad as it looks, mayhap, we rub through +even this, and with the next day, the prospect is as bright and cheering +as ever. You’ll perhaps ask me what has all this moralizing to do with +women and ships at sea? Nothing at all with them, except that I was a +going to say, that when matters look worst, very often the best is in +store for us, and we should never say strike when there is a timber +together. Now for my story:— +</p> +<p> +“It’s about four years ago, I was strolling one evening down the side of +the harbor at Cove, with my hands in my pocket, having nothing to do, nor +no prospect of it, for my last ship had been wrecked off the Bermudas, and +nearly all the crew lost; and somehow, when a man is in misfortune, the +underwriters won’t have him at no price. Well, there I was, looking about +me at the craft that lay on every side waiting for a fair wind to run down +channel. All was active and busy; every one getting his vessel ship-shape +and tidy,—tarring, painting, mending sails, stretching new bunting, +and getting in sea-store; boats were plying on every side, signals flying, +guns firing from the men-of-war, and everything was lively as might be,—all +but me. There I was, like an old water-logged timber ship, never moving a +spar, but looking for all the world as though I were a settling fast to go +down stern foremost: may be as how I had no objection to that same; but +that’s neither here nor there. Well, I sat down on the fluke of an anchor, +and began a thinking if it wasn’t better to go before the mast than live +on that way. Just before me, where I sat down, there was an old schooner +that lay moored in the same place for as long as I could remember. She was +there when I was a boy, and never looked a bit the fresher nor newer as +long as I recollected; her old bluff bows, her high poop, her round stern, +her flush deck, all Dutch-like, I knew them well, and many a time I +delighted to think what queer kind of a chap he was that first set her on +the stocks, and pondered in what trade she ever could have been. All the +sailors about the port used to call her Noah’s Ark, and swear she was the +identical craft that he stowed away all the wild beasts in during the +rainy season. Be that as it might, since I fell into misfortune, I got to +feel a liking for the old schooner; she was like an old friend; she never +changed to me, fair weather or foul; there she was, just the same as +thirty years before, when all the world were forgetting and steering wide +away from me. Every morning I used to go down to the harbor and have a +look at her, just to see that all was right and nothing stirred; and if it +blew very hard at night, I’d get up and go down to look how she weathered +it, just as if I was at sea in her. Now and then I’d get some of the +watermen to row me aboard of her, and leave me there for a few hours; when +I used to be quite happy walking the deck, holding the old worm-eaten +wheel, looking out ahead, and going down below, just as though I was in +command of her. Day after day this habit grew on me, and at last my whole +life was spent in watching her and looking after her,—-there was +something so much alike in our fortunes, that I always thought of her. +Like myself, she had had her day of life and activity; we had both braved +the storm and the breeze; her shattered bulwarks and worn cutwater +attested that she had, like myself, not escaped her calamities. We both +had survived our dangers, to be neglected and forgotten, and to lie +rotting on the stream of life till the crumbling hand of Time should break +us up, timber by timber. Is it any wonder if I loved the old craft; nor if +by any chance the idle boys would venture aboard of her to play and amuse +themselves that I hallooed them away; or when a newly-arrived ship, not +caring for the old boat, would run foul of her, and carry away some spar +or piece of running rigging, I would suddenly call out to them to sheer +off and not damage us? By degrees, they came all to notice this; and I +found that they thought me out of my senses, and many a trick was played +off upon old Noah, for that was the name the sailors gave me. +</p> +<p> +“Well, this evening, as I was saying, I sat upon the fluke of the anchor, +waiting for a chance boat to put me aboard. It was past sunset, the tide +was ebbing, and the old craft was surging to the fast current that ran by +with a short, impatient jerk, as though she were well weary, and wished to +be at rest; her loose stays creaked mournfully, and as she yawed over, the +sea ran from many a breach in her worn sides, like blood trickling from a +wound. ‘Ay, ay,’ thought I, ‘the hour is not far off; another stiff gale, +and all that remains of you will be found high and dry upon the shore.’ My +heart was very heavy as I thought of this; for in my loneliness, the old +Ark—though that was not her name, as I’ll tell you presently—was +all the companion I had. I’ve heard of a poor prisoner who, for many and +many years, watched a spider that wove his web within his window, and +never lost sight of him from morning till night; and somehow, I can +believe it well. The heart will cling to something, and if it has no +living object to press to, it will find a lifeless one,—it can no +more stand alone than the shrouds can without the mast. The evening wore +on, as I was thinking thus; the moon shone out, but no boat came, and I +was just determining to go home again for the night, when I saw two men +standing on the steps of the wharf below me, and looking straight at the +Ark. Now, I must tell you I always felt uneasy when any one came to look +at her; for I began to fear that some shipowner or other would buy her to +break up, though, except the copper fastenings, there was little of any +value about her. Now, the moment I saw the two figures stop short, and +point to her, I said to myself, ‘Ah, my old girl, so they won’t even let +the blue water finish you, but they must set their carpenters and dockyard +people to work upon you.’ This thought grieved me more and more. Had a +stiff sou’-wester laid her over, I should have felt it more natural, for +her sand was run out; but just as this passed through my mind, I heard a +voice from one of the persons, that I at once knew to be the port +admiral’s:— +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, Dawkins,’ said he to the other, ‘if you think she’ll hold +together, I’m sure I’ve no objection. I don’t like the job, I confess; but +still the Admiralty must be obeyed.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, my lord,’ said the other, ‘she’s the very thing; she’s a +rakish-looking craft, and will do admirably. Any repair we want, a few +days will effect; secrecy is the great thing.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes,’ said the admiral, after a pause, ‘as you observed, secrecy is the +great thing.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ho! ho!’ thought I, ‘there’s something in the wind, here;’ so I laid +myself out upon the anchor-stock, to listen better, unobserved. +</p> +<p> +“‘We must find a crew for her, give her a few carronades, make her as +ship-shape as we can, and if the skipper—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ay, but there is the real difficulty,’ said the admiral, hastily; ‘where +are we to find a fellow that will suit us? We can’t every day find a man +willing to jeopardize himself in such a cause as this, even though the +reward be a great one.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Very true, my lord; but I don’t think there is any necessity for our +explaining to him the exact nature of the service.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Come, come, Dawkins, you can’t mean that you’ll lead a poor fellow into +such a scrape blindfolded?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Why, my lord, you never think it requisite to give a plan of your cruise +to your ship’s crew before clearing out of harbor.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘This may be perfectly just, but I don’t like it,’ said the admiral. +</p> +<p> +“‘In that case, my lord, you are imparting the secrets of the Admiralty to +a party who may betray the whole plot.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I wish, with all my soul, they’d given the order to any one else,’ said +the admiral, with a sigh; and for a few moments neither spoke a word. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, then, Dawkins, I believe there is nothing for it but what you say; +meanwhile, let the repairs be got in hand, and see after a crew.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, as to that,’ said the other, ‘there are plenty of scoundrels in the +fleet here fit for nothing else. Any fellow who has been thrice up for +punishment in six months, we’ll draft on board of her; the fellows who +have only been once to the gangway, we’ll make the officers.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘A pleasant ship’s company,’ thought I, ‘if the Devil would only take the +command. +</p> +<p> +“‘And with a skipper proportionate to their merit,’ said Dawkins. +</p> +<p> +“‘Begad, I’ll wish the French joy of them,’ said the admiral. +</p> +<p> +“‘Ho, ho!’ thought I, ‘I’ve found you out at last; so this is a secret +expedition. I see it all; they’re fitting her out as a fire-ship, and +going to send her slap in among the French fleet at Brest. Well,’ thought +I, ‘even that’s better; that, at least, is a glorious end, though the poor +fellows have no chance of escape.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Now, then,’ said the admiral, ‘to-morrow you’ll look out for the fellow +to take the command. He must be a smart seaman, a bold fellow, too, +otherwise the ruffianly crew will be too much for him; he may bid high, +we’ll come to his price.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘So you may,’ thought I, ‘when you’re buying his life.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I hope sincerely,’ continued the admiral, ‘that we may light upon some +one without wife or child; I never could forgive myself—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Never fear, my lord,’ said the other; ‘my care shall be to pitch upon +one whose loss no one would feel; some one without friend or home, who, +setting his life for nought, cares less for the gain than the very +recklessness of the adventure.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘That’s me,’ said I, springing up from the anchor-stock, and springing +between them; ‘I’m that man.’ +</p> +<p> +“Had the very Devil himself appeared at the moment, I doubt if they would +have been more scared. The admiral started a pace or two backwards, while +Dawkins, the first surprise over, seized me by the collar, and hold me +fast. +</p> +<p> +“‘Who are you, scoundrel, and what brings you here?’ said he, in a voice +hoarse with passion. +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m old Noah,’ said I; for somehow, I had been called by no other name +for so long, I never thought of my real one. +</p> +<p> +“‘Noah!’ said the admiral,—‘Noah! Well, but Noah, what were you +doing here at this time of night?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I was a watching the Ark, my lord,’ said I, bowing, as I took off my +hat. +</p> +<p> +“‘I’ve heard of this fellow before, my lord,’ said Dawkins; ‘he’s a poor +lunatic that is always wandering about the harbor, and, I believe, has no +harm in him.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, but he has been listening, doubtless, to our conversation,’ said +the admiral. ‘Eh, have you heard all we have been saying?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Every word of it, my lord.’ +</p> +<p> +“At this the admiral and Dawkins looked steadfastly at each other for some +minutes, but neither spoke; at last Dawkins said, ‘Well, Noah, I’ve been +told you are a man to be depended on; may we rely upon your not repeating +anything you overheard this evening,—at least, for a year to come?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You may,’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“‘But, Dawkins,’ said the admiral, in a half-whisper, ‘if the poor fellow +be mad?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘My lord,’ said I, boldly, ‘I am not mad. Misfortune and calamity I have +had enough of to make me so; but, thank God, my brain has been tougher +than my poor heart. I was once the part-owner and commander of a goodly +craft, that swept the sea, if not with a broad pennon at her mast-head, +with as light a spirit as ever lived beneath one. I was rich, I had a home +and a child; I am now poor, houseless, childless, friendless, and an +outcast. If in my solitary wretchedness I have loved to look upon that old +bark, it is because its fortune seemed like my own. It had outlived all +that needed or cared for it. For this reason have they thought me mad, +though there are those, and not few either, who can well bear testimony if +stain or reproach lie at my door, and if I can be reproached with aught +save bad luck. I have heard by chance what you have said this night. I +know that you are fitting out a secret expedition; I know its dangers, its +inevitable dangers, and I here offer myself to lead it. I ask no reward; I +look for no price. Alas, who is left to me for whom I could labor now? +Give me but the opportunity to end my days with honor on board the old +craft, where my heart still clings; give me but that. Well, if you will +not do so much, let me serve among the crew; put me before the mast. My +lord, you’ll not refuse this. It is an old man asks; one whose gray hairs +have floated many a year ago before the breeze.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘My poor fellow, you know not what you ask; this is no common case of +danger.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I know it all, my lord; I have heard it all.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Dawkins, what is to be done here?’ inquired the admiral. +</p> +<p> +“‘I say, friend,’ inquired Dawkins, laying his hand upon my arm, ‘what is +your real name? Are you he who commanded the “Dwarf” privateer in the Isle +of France?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The same.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Then you are known to Lord Collingwood?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘He knows me well, and can speak to my character.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What he says of himself is all true, my lord.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘True,’ said I, ‘true! You did not doubt it, did you?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘We,’ said the admiral, ‘must speak together again. Be here to-morrow +night at this hour; keep your own counsel of what has passed, and now +good-night.’ So saying, the admiral took Dawkins by the arm and returned +slowly towards the town, leaving me where I stood, meditating on this +singular meeting and its possible consequences. +</p> +<p> +“The whole of the following day was passed by me in a state of feverish +excitement which I cannot describe; this strange adventure breaking in so +suddenly upon the dull monotony of my daily existence had so aroused and +stimulated me that I could neither rest nor eat. How I longed for night to +come; for sometimes, as the day wore later, I began to fear that the whole +scene of my meeting with the admiral had been merely some excited dream of +a tortured and fretted mind; and as I stood examining the ground where I +believed the interview to have occurred, I endeavored to recall the +position of different objects as they stood around, to corroborate my own +failing remembrance. +</p> +<p> +“At last the evening closed in; but unlike the preceding one, the sky was +covered with masses of dark and watery cloud that drifted hurriedly +across; the air felt heavy and thick, and unnaturally still and calm; the +water of the harbor looked of a dull, leaden hue, and all the vessels +seemed larger than they were, and stood out from the landscape more +clearly than usual; now and then a low rumbling noise was heard, somewhat +alike in sound, but far too faint for distant thunder, while occasionally +the boats and smaller craft rocked to and fro, as though some ground swell +stirred them without breaking the languid surface of the sea above. +</p> +<p> +“A few drops of thick, heavy rain fell just as the darkness came on, and +then all felt still and calm as before. I sat upon the anchor-stock, my +eyes fixed upon the old Ark, until gradually her outline grew fainter and +fainter against the dark sky, and her black hull could scarcely be +distinguished from the water beneath. I felt that I was looking towards +her; for long after I had lost sight of the tall mast and high-pitched +bowsprit, I feared to turn away my head lest I should lose the place where +she lay. +</p> +<p> +“The time went slowly on, and although in reality I had not been long +there, I felt as if years themselves had passed over my head. Since I had +come there my mind brooded over all the misfortunes of my life; as I +contrasted its outset, bright with hope and rich in promise, with the sad +reality, my heart grew heavy and my chest heaved painfully. So sunk was I +in my reflections, so lost in thought, that I never knew that the storm +had broken loose, and that the heavy rain was falling in torrents. The +very ground, parched with long drought, smoked as it pattered upon it; +while the low, wailing cry of the sea-gull, mingled with the deep growl of +far-off thunder, told that the night was a fearful one for those at sea. +Wet through and shivering, I sat still, now listening amidst the noise of +the hurricane and the creaking of the cordage for any footstep to +approach, and now relapsing back into half-despairing dread that my heated +brain alone had conjured up the scene of the day before. Such were my +dreary reflections when a loud crash aboard the schooner told me that some +old spar had given way. I strained my eyes through the dark to see what +had happened, but in vain; the black vapor, thick with falling rain, +obscured everything, and all was hid from view. I could hear that she +worked violently as the waves beat against her worn sides, and that her +iron cable creaked as she pitched to the breaking sea. The wind was +momentarily increasing, and I began to fear lest I should have taken my +last look at the old craft, when my attention was called off by hearing a +loud voice cry out, ‘Halloo there! Where are you?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ay, ay, sir, I’m here.’ In a moment the admiral and his friend were +beside me. +</p> +<p> +“‘What a night!’ exclaimed the admiral, as he shook the rain from the +heavy boat-cloak and cowered in beneath some tall blocks of granite near. +‘I began half to hope that you might not have been here, my poor fellow,’ +said the admiral; ‘it’s a dreadful time for one so poorly clad for a +storm. I say, Dawkins, let him have a pull at your flask.’ The brandy +rallied me a little, and I felt that it cheered my drooping courage. +</p> +<p> +“‘This is not a time nor is it a place for much parley,’ said the admiral, +‘so that we must even make short work of it. Since we met here last night +I have satisfied myself that you are to be trusted, that your character +and reputation have nothing heavier against them than misfortune, which +certainly, if I have been rightly informed, has been largely dealt out to +you. Now, then, I am willing to accept of your offer of service if you are +still of the same mind as when you made it, and if you are willing to +undertake what we have to do without any question and inquiry as to points +on which we must not and dare not inform you. Whatever you may have +overheard last night may or may not have put you in possession of our +secret. If the former, your determination can be made at once; if the +latter, you have only to decide whether you are ready to go blindfolded in +the business.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I am ready, my lord,’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“‘You perhaps are then aware what is the nature of the service?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I know it not,’ said I. ‘All that I heard, sir, leads me to suppose it +one of danger, but that’s all.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I think, my lord,’ said Dawkins, ‘that no more need now be said. Cupples +is ready to engage, we are equally so to accept; the thing is pressing. +When can you sail?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘To-night,’ said I, ‘if you will.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Really, Dawkins,’ said the admiral, ‘I don’t see why—’ +</p> +<p> +‘"My lord, I beg of you,’ said the other, interrupting, ‘let me now +complete the arrangement. This is the plan,’ said he, turning towards me +as he spoke: ‘As soon as that old craft can be got ready for sea, or some +other if she be not worth, it, you will sail from this port with a strong +crew, well armed and supplied with ammunition. Your destination is Malta, +your object to deliver to the admiral stationed there the despatches with +which you will be entrusted; they contain information of immense +importance, which for certain reasons cannot be sent through a ship of +war, but must be forwarded by a vessel that may not attract peculiar +notice. If you be attacked, your orders are to resist; if you be taken, on +no account destroy the papers, for the French vessel can scarcely escape +capture from our frigates, and it is of great consequence these papers +should remain. Such is a brief sketch of our plan; the details can be made +known to you hereafter.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I am quite ready, my lord. I ask for no terms; I make no stipulations. +If the result be favorable it will be time enough to speak of that. When +am I to sail?’ +</p> +<p> +“As I spoke, the admiral turned suddenly round and said something in a +whisper to Dawkins, who appeared to overrule it, whatever it might be, and +finally brought him over to his own opinion. +</p> +<p> +“‘Come, Cupples,’ said Dawkins, ‘the affair is now settled; to-morrow a +boat will be in waiting for you opposite Spike Island to convey you on +board the “Semiramis,” where every step in the whole business shall be +explained to you; meanwhile you have only to keep your own counsel and +trust the secret to no one.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, Cupples,’ said the admiral, ‘we rely upon you for that, so +good-night.’ As he spoke he placed within my hands a crumpled note for ten +pounds, and squeezing my fingers, departed. +</p> +<p> +“My yarn is spinning out to a far greater length than I intended, so I’ll +try and shorten it a bit. The next day I went aboard the ‘Semiramis,’ +where, when I appeared upon the quarter-deck, I found myself an object of +some interest. The report that I was the man about to command the ‘Brian,’—that +was the real name of the old craft,—had caused some curiosity among +the officers, and they all spoke to me with great courtesy. After waiting +a short time I was ordered to go below, where the admiral, his +flag-captain, Dawkins, and the others were seated. They repeated at +greater length the conversation of the night before, and finally decided +that I was to sail in three weeks; for although the old schooner was sadly +damaged, they had lost no time, but had her already high in dock, with two +hundred ship-carpenters at work upon her. +</p> +<p> +“I do not shorten sail here to tell you what reports were circulated about +Cove as to my extraordinary change in circumstances, nor how I bore my +altered fortunes. It is enough if I say that in less than three weeks I +weighed anchor and stood out to sea one beautiful morning in autumn, and +set out upon my expedition. +</p> +<p> +“I have already told you something of the craft. Let me complete the +picture by informing you that before twenty-four hours passed over I +discovered that so ungainly, so awkward, so unmanageable a vessel never +put to sea. In light winds she scarcely stirred or moved, as if she were +waterlogged; if it came to blow upon the quarter, she fell off from her +helm at a fearful rate; in wearing, she endangered every spar she had; and +when you put her in stays, when half round she would fall back and nearly +carry away every stitch of canvas with the shock. If the ship was bad, the +crew was ten times worse. What Dawkins said turned out to be literally +true. Every ill-conducted, disorderly fellow who had been up the gangway +once a week or so, every unreclaimed landsman of bad character and no +seamanship, was sent on board of us: and in fact, except that there was +scarcely any discipline and no restraint, we appeared like a floating +penitentiary of convicted felons. +</p> +<p> +So long as we ran down channel with a slack sea and fair wind, so long all +went on tolerably well; to be sure they only kept watch when they were +tired below, when they came up, reeled about the deck, did all just as +they pleased, and treated me with no manner of respect. After some vain +efforts to repress their excesses,—vain, for I had but one to second +me,—I appeared to take no notice of their misconduct, and contented +myself with waiting for the time when, my dreary voyage over, I should +quit the command and part company with such associates forever. At last, +however, it came on to blow, and the night we passed the Lizard was indeed +a fearful one. As morning broke, a sea running mountains high, a wind +strong from the northwest, was hurrying the old craft along at a rate I +believed impossible. I shall not stop to recount the frightful scenes of +anarchy, confusion, drunkenness, and insubordination which our crew +exhibited,—the recollection is too bad already, and I would spare +you and myself the recital; but on the fourth day from the setting in of +the gale, as we entered the Bay of Biscay, some one aloft descried a +strange sail to windward bearing down as if in pursuit of us. Scarcely did +the news reach the deck when, bad as it was before, matters became now ten +times worse, some resolving to give themselves up if the chase happened to +be French, and vowing that before surrendering the spirit-room should be +forced, and every man let drink as he pleased. Others proposed if there +were anything like equality in the force, to attack, and convert the +captured vessel, if they succeeded, into a slaver, and sail at once for +Africa. Some were for blowing up the old ‘Brian’ with all on board; and in +fact every counsel that drunkenness, insanity, and crime combined could +suggest was offered and descanted on. Meanwhile the chase gained rapidly +upon us, and before noon we discovered her to be a French letter-of-marque +with four guns and a long brass swivel upon the poop deck. As for us, +every sheet of canvas we could crowd was crammed on, but in vain. And as +we labored through the heavy sea, our riotous crew grew every moment +worse, and sitting down sulkily in groups upon the deck, declared that, +come what might, they would neither work the ship nor fight her; that they +had been sent to sea in a rotten craft merely to effect their destruction; +and that they cared little for the disgrace of a flag they detested. Half +furious with the taunting sarcasm I heard on every side, and nearly mad +from passion, and bewildered, my first impulse was to run among them with +my drawn cutlass, and ere I fell their victim, take heavy vengeance upon +the ringleaders, when suddenly a sharp booming noise came thundering +along, and a round shot went flying over our heads. +</p> +<p> +“‘Down with the ensign; strike at once!’ cried eight or ten voices +together, as the ball whizzed through the rigging. Anticipating this, and +resolving, whatever might happen, to fight her to the last, I had made the +mate, a staunch-hearted, resolute fellow, to make fast the signal sailyard +aloft, so that it was impossible for any one on deck to lower the bunting. +Bang! went another gun; and before the smoke cleared away, a third, which, +truer in its aim than the rest, went clean through the lower part of our +mainsail. +</p> +<p> +“‘Steady, then, boys, and clear for action,’ said the mate. +</p> +<p> +‘She’s a French smuggling craft that will sheer off when we show fight, so +that we must not fire a shot till she comes alongside.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And harkee, lads,’ said I, taking up the tone of encouragement he spoke +with, ‘if we take her, I promise to claim nothing of the prize. Whatever +we capture you shall divide among yourselves.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘It’s very easy to divide what we never had,’ said one; ‘Nearly as easy +as to give it,’ cried another; ‘I’ll never light match or draw cutlass in +the cause,’ said a third. +</p> +<p> +“‘Surrender!’ ‘Strike the flag!’ ‘Down with the colors!’ roared several +voices together. +</p> +<p> +“By this time the Frenchman was close up, and ranging his long gun to +sweep our decks; his crew were quite perceptible,—about twenty +bronzed, stout-looking follows, stripped to the waist, and carrying +pistols in broad flat belts slung over the shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“‘Come, my lads,’ said I, raising my voice, as I drew a pistol from my +side and cocked it, ‘our time is short now; I may as well tell you that +the first shot that strikes us amidship blows up the whole craft and every +man on board. We are nothing less than a fireship, destined for Brest +harbor to blow up the French fleet. If you are willing to make an effort +for your lives, follow me!’ +</p> +<p> +“The men looked aghast. Whatever recklessness crime and drunkenness had +given them, the awful feeling of inevitable death at once repelled. Short +as was the time for reflection, they felt that there were many +circumstances to encourage the assertion,—the nature of the vessel, +her riotous, disorderly crew, the secret nature of the service, all +confirmed it,—and they answered with a shout of despairing +vengeance, ‘We’ll board her; lead us on!’ As the cry rose up, the long +swivel from the chase rang sharply in our ears, and a tremendous discharge +of grape flew through our rigging. None of our men, however, fell; and +animated now with the desire for battle, they sprang to the binnacle, and +seized their arms. +</p> +<p> +“In an instant the whole deck became a scene of excited bustle; and +scarcely was the ammunition dealt out, and the boarding party drawn up, +when the Frenchman broached to and lashed his bowsprit to our own. +</p> +<p> +“One terrific yell burst from our fellows as they sprang from the rigging +and the poop upon the astonished Frenchmen, who thought that the victory +was already their own; with death and ruin behind, their only hope before, +they dashed forward like madmen to the fray. +</p> +<p> +“The conflict was bloody and terrific, though not a long one. Nearly equal +in number, but far superior in personal strength, and stimulated by their +sense of danger, our fellows rushed onward, carrying all before them to +the quarter-deck. Here the Frenchmen rallied, and for some minutes had +rather the advantage, until the mate, turning one of their guns against +them, prepared to sweep them down in a mass. Then it was that they ceased +their fire and cried out for quarter,—all save their captain, a +short, thick-set fellow, with a grizzly beard and mustache, who, seeing +his men fall back, turned on them one glance of scowling indignation, and +rushing forward, clove our boatswain to the deck with one blow. Before the +example could have been followed, he lay a bloody corpse upon the deck; +while our people, roused to madness by the loss of a favorite among the +men, dashed impetuously forward, and dealing death on every side, left not +one man living among their unresisting enemies. My story is soon told now. +We brought our prize safe into Malta, which we reached in five days. In +less than a week our men were drafted into different men-of-war on the +station. I was appointed a warrant officer in the ‘Sheerwater,’ forty-four +guns; and as the admiral opened the despatch, the only words he spoke +puzzled me for many a day after. +</p> +<p> +“‘You have accomplished your orders too well,’ said he; ‘that privateer is +but a poor compensation for the whole French navy.’” + </p> +<p> +“Well,” inquired Power, “and did you never hear the meaning of the words?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” said he; “many years after I found out that our despatches were +false ones, intended to have fallen into the hands of the French and +mislead them as to Lord Nelson’s fleet, which at that time was cruising to +the southward to catch them. This, of course, explained what fate was +destined for us,—a French prison, if not death; and after all, +either was fully good enough for the crew that sailed in the old ‘Brian.’” + </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 LAND. +</p> +<p> +It was late when we separated for the night, and the morning was already +far advanced ere I awoke; the monotonous tramp overhead showed me that the +others were stirring, and I gently moved the shutter of the narrow window +beside me to look out. +</p> +<p> +The sea, slightly rippled upon its surface, shone like a plate of fretted +gold,—not a wave, not a breaker appeared; but the rushing sound +close by showed that we were moving fast through the water. +</p> +<p> +“Always calm hereabouts,” said a gruff voice on deck, which I soon +recognized as the skipper’s; “no sea whatever.” + </p> +<p> +“I can make nothing of it,” cried out Power, from the forepart of the +vessel. “It appears to me all cloud.” + </p> +<p> +“No, no, sir, believe me; it’s no fog-bank, that large dark mass to +leeward there,—that’s Cintra.” + </p> +<p> +“Land!” cried I, springing up, and rushing upon deck; “where, Skipper,—where +is the land?” + </p> +<p> +“I say, Charley,” said Power, “I hope you mean to adopt a little more +clothing on reaching Lisbon; for though the climate is a warm one—” + </p> +<p> +“Never mind, O’Malley,” said the major, “the Portuguese will only be +flattered by the attention, if you land as you are.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, how so?” + </p> +<p> +“Surely, you remember what the niggers said when they saw the 79th +Highlanders landing at St. Lucie. They had never seen a Scotch regiment +before, and were consequently somewhat puzzled at the costume; till at +last, one more cunning than the rest explained it by saying: ‘They are in +such a hurry to kill the poor black men that they came away without their +breeches.’” + </p> +<p> +“Now, what say you?” cried the skipper, as he pointed with his telescope +to a dark-blue mass in the distance; “see there!” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, true enough; that’s Cintra!” + </p> +<p> +“Then we shall probably be in the Tagus River before morning?” + </p> +<p> +“Before midnight, if the wind holds,” said the skipper. We breakfasted on +deck beneath an awning. The vessel scarcely seemed to move as she cut her +way through the calm water. +</p> +<p> +The misty outline of the coast grew gradually more defined, and at length +the blue mountains could be seen; at first but dimly, but as the day wore +on, their many-colored hues shone forth, and patches of green verdure, +dotted with sheep or sheltered by dark foliage, met the eye. The bulwarks +were crowded with anxious faces; each looked pointedly towards the shore, +and many a stout heart beat high, as the land drew near, fated to cover +with its earth more than one among us. +</p> +<p> +“And that’s Portingale, Mister Charles,” said a voice behind me. I turned +and saw my man Mike, as with anxious joy, he fixed his eyes upon the +shore. +</p> +<p> +“They tell me it’s a beautiful place, with wine for nothing and spirits +for less. Isn’t it a pity they won’t be raisonable and make peace with +us?” + </p> +<p> +“Why, my good fellow, we are excellent friends; it’s the French who want +to beat us all.” + </p> +<p> +“Upon my conscience, that’s not right. There’s an ould saying in +Connaught, ‘It’s not fair for one to fall upon twenty.’ Sergeant Haggarty +says that I’ll see none of the divarsion at all.” + </p> +<p> +“I don’t well understand—” + </p> +<p> +“He does be telling me that, as I’m only your footboy, he’ll send me away +to the rear, where there’s nothing but wounded and wagons and women.” + </p> +<p> +“I believe the sergeant is right there; but after all, Mike, it’s a safe +place.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, then, musha for the safety! I don’t think much of it. Sure, they +might circumvint us. And av it wasn’t displazing to you, I’d rather list.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I’ve no objection, Mickey. Would you like to join my regiment?” + </p> +<p> +“By coorse, your honor. I’d like to be near yourself; bekase, too, if +anything happens to you,—the Lord be betune us and harm,” here he +crossed himself piously,—“sure, I’d like to be able to tell the +master how you died; and sure, there’s Mr. Considine—God pardon him! +He’ll be beating my brains out av I couldn’t explain it all.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, Mike, I’ll speak to some of my friends here about you, and we’ll +settle it all properly. Here’s the doctor.” + </p> +<p> +“Arrah, Mr. Charles, don’t mind him. He’s a poor crayture entirely. Devil +a thing he knows.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, what do you mean, man? He’s physician to the forces.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, be-gorra, and so he may be!” said Mike, with a toss of his head. +“Those army docthers isn’t worth their salt. It’s thruth I’m telling you. +Sure, didn’t he come to see me when I was sick below in the hould? +</p> +<p> +“‘How do you feel?’ says he. +</p> +<p> +“‘Terribly dhry in the mouth,’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘But your bones,’ says he; ‘how’s them?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘As if cripples was kicking me,’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“Well, with that he wint away, and brought back two powders. +</p> +<p> +“‘Take them,’ says he, ‘and you’ll be cured in no time.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What’s them?’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘They’re ematics,’ says he. +</p> +<p> +“‘Blood and ages!’ says I, ‘are they?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Devil a lie,’ says he; ‘take them immediately.’ +</p> +<p> +“And I tuk them; and would you believe me, Mister Charles?—it’s +thruth I’m telling you,—devil a one o’ them would stay on my +stomach. So you see what a docther he is!” + </p> +<p> +I could not help smiling at Mike’s ideas of medicine, as I turned away to +talk to the major, who was busily engaged beside me. His occupation +consisted in furbishing up a very tarnished and faded uniform, whose white +seams and threadbare lace betokened many years of service. +</p> +<p> +“Getting up our traps, you see, O’Malley,” said he, as he looked with no +small pride at the faded glories of his old vestment. “Astonish them at +Lisbon, we flatter ourselves. I say, Power, what a bad style of dress +they’ve got into latterly, with their tight waist and strapped trousers; +nothing free, nothing easy, nothing <i>dégagé</i> about it. When in a +campaign, a man ought to be able to stow prog for twenty-four hours about +his person, and no one the wiser. A very good rule, I assure you, though +it sometimes leads to awkward results. At Vimeira, I got into a sad scrape +that way. Old Sir Harry, that commanded there, sent for the sick return. I +was at dinner when the orderly came, so I packed up the eatables about me, +and rode off. Just, however, as I came up to the quarters, my horse +stumbled and threw me slap on my head. +</p> +<p> +“‘Is he killed?’ said Sir Harry. +</p> +<p> +“‘Only stunned, your Excellency,’ said some one. +</p> +<p> +“‘Then he’ll come to, I suppose. Look for the papers in his pocket.’ +</p> +<p> +“So they turned me on my back, and plunged a hand into my side-pocket; +but, the devil take it! they pulled out a roast hen. Well, the laugh was +scarcely over at this, when another fellow dived into my coat behind, and +lugged out three sausages; and so they went on, till the ground was +covered with ham, pigeon-pie, veal, kidney, and potatoes; and the only +thing like a paper was a mess-roll of the 4th, with a droll song about Sir +Harry written in pencil on the back of it. Devil of a bad affair for me! I +was nearly broke for it; but they only reprimanded me a little, and I was +afterwards attached to the victualling department.” + </p> +<p> +What an anxious thing is the last day of a voyage! How slowly creep the +hours, teeming with memories of the past and expectations of the future! +</p> +<p> +Every plan, every well-devised expedient to cheat the long and weary days +is at once abandoned; the chess-board and the new novel are alike +forgotten, and the very quarter-deck walk, with its merry gossip and +careless chit-chat, becomes distasteful. One blue and misty mountain, one +faint outline of the far-off shore, has dispelled all thought of these; +and with straining eye and anxious heart, we watch for land. +</p> +<p> +As the day wears on apace, the excitement increases; the faint and shadowy +forms of distant objects grow gradually clearer. Where before some tall +and misty mountain peak was seen, we now descry patches of deepest blue +and sombre olive; the mellow corn and the waving woods, the village spire +and the lowly cot, come out of the landscape; and like some +well-remembered voice, they speak of home. The objects we have seen, the +sounds we have heard a hundred times before without interest, become to us +now things that stir the heart. +</p> +<p> +For a time the bright glare of the noonday sun dazzles the view and +renders indistinct the prospect; but as evening falls, once more is all +fair and bright and rich before us. Rocked by the long and rolling swell, +I lay beside the bowsprit, watching the shore-birds that came to rest upon +the rigging, or following some long and tangled seaweed as it floated by; +my thoughts now wandering back to the brown hills and the broad river of +my early home, now straying off in dreary fancies of the future. +</p> +<p> +How flat and unprofitable does all ambition seem at such moments as these; +how valueless, how poor, in our estimation, those worldly distinctions we +have so often longed and thirsted for, as with lowly heart and simple +spirit we watch each humble cottage, weaving to ourselves some story of +its inmates as we pass! +</p> +<p> +The night at length closed in, but it was a bright and starry one, lending +to the landscape a hue of sombre shadow, while the outlines of the objects +were still sharp and distinct as before. One solitary star twinkled near +the horizon. I watched it as, at intervals disappearing, it would again +shine out, marking the calm sea with a tall pillar of light. +</p> +<p> +“Come down, Mr. O’Malley,” cried the skipper’s well-known voice,—“come +down below and join us in a parting glass; that’s the Lisbon light to +leeward, and before two hours we drop our anchor in the Tagus.” + </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> +MAJOR MONSOON. +</p> +<p> +Of my travelling companions I have already told my readers something. +Power is now an old acquaintance; to Sparks I have already presented them; +of the adjutant they are not entirely ignorant; and it therefore only +remains for me to introduce to their notice Major Monsoon. I should have +some scruple for the digression which this occasions in my narrative, were +it not that with the worthy major I was destined to meet subsequently; and +indeed served under his orders for some months in the Peninsula. When +Major Monsoon had entered the army or in what precise capacity, I never +yet met the man who could tell. There were traditionary accounts of his +having served in the East Indies and in Canada in times long past. His own +peculiar reminiscences extended to nearly every regiment in the service, +“horse, foot, and dragoons.” There was not a clime he had not basked in; +not an engagement he had not witnessed. His memory, or, if you will, his +invention, was never at fault; and from the siege of Seringapatam to the +battle of Corunna he was perfect. Besides this, he possessed a mind +retentive of even the most trifling details of his profession,—from +the formation of a regiment to the introduction of a new button, from the +laying down of a parallel to the price of a camp-kettle, he knew it all. +To be sure, he had served in the commissary-general’s department for a +number of years, and nothing instils such habits as this. +</p> +<p> +“The commissaries are to the army what the special pleaders are to the +bar,” observed my friend Power,—“dry dogs, not over creditable on +the whole, but devilish useful.” + </p> +<p> +The major had begun life a two-bottle man; but by a studious cultivation +of his natural gifts, and a steady determination to succeed, he had, at +the time I knew him, attained to his fifth. It need not be wondered at, +then, that his countenance bore some traces of his habits. It was of a +deep sunset-purple, which, becoming tropical, at the tip of the nose +verged almost upon a plum-color; his mouth was large, thick-lipped, and +good-humored; his voice rich, mellow, and racy, and contributed, with the +aid of a certain dry, chuckling laugh, greatly to increase the effect of +the stories which he was ever ready to recount; and as they most +frequently bore in some degree against some of what he called his little +failings, they were ever well received, no man being so popular with the +world as he who flatters its vanity at his own expense. To do this the +major was ever ready, but at no time more so than when the evening wore +late, and the last bottle of his series seemed to imply that any caution +regarding the nature of his communication was perfectly unnecessary. +Indeed, from the commencement of his evening to the close, he seemed to +pass through a number of mental changes, all in a manner preparing him for +this final consummation, when he confessed anything and everything; and so +well regulated had those stages become, that a friend dropping in upon him +suddenly could at once pronounce from the tone of his conversation on what +precise bottle the major was then engaged. +</p> +<p> +Thus, in the outset he was gastronomic,—discussed the dinner from +the soup to the Stilton; criticised the cutlets; pronounced upon the +merits of the mutton; and threw out certain vague hints that he would one +day astonish the world by a little volume upon cookery. +</p> +<p> +With bottle No. 2 he took leave of the <i>cuisine</i>, and opened his +battery upon the wine. Bordeaux, Burgundy, hock, and hermitage, all passed +in review before him,—their flavor discussed, their treatment +descanted upon, their virtues extolled; from humble port to imperial +tokay, he was thoroughly conversant with all, and not a vintage escaped as +to when the sun had suffered eclipse, or when a comet had wagged his tail +over it. +</p> +<p> +With No. 3 he became pipeclay,—talked army list and eighteen +manoeuvres, lamented the various changes in equipments which modern +innovation had introduced, and feared the loss of pigtails might sap the +military spirit of the nation. +</p> +<p> +With No. 4 his anecdotic powers came into play,—he recounted various +incidents of the war with his own individual adventures and experience, +told with an honest <i>naïveté</i>, that proved personal vanity; indeed, +self-respect never marred the interest of the narrative, besides, as he +had ever regarded a campaign something in the light of a foray, and +esteemed war as little else than a pillage excursion, his sentiments were +singularly amusing. +</p> +<p> +With his last bottle, those feelings that seemed inevitably connected with +whatever is last appeared to steal over him,—a tinge of sadness for +pleasures fast passing and nearly passed, a kind of retrospective glance +at the fallacy of all our earthly enjoyments, insensibly suggesting moral +and edifying reflections, led him by degrees to confess that he was not +quite satisfied with himself, though “not very bad for a commissary;” and +finally, as the decanter waxed low, he would interlard his meditations by +passages of Scripture, singularly perverted by his misconception from +their true meaning, and alternately throwing out prospects of censure or +approval. Such was Major Monsoon; and to conclude in his own words this +brief sketch, he “would have been an excellent officer if Providence had +not made him such a confounded, drunken, old scoundrel.” + </p> +<p> +“Now, then, for the King of Spain’s story. Out with it, old boy; we are +all good men and true here,” cried Power, as we slowly came along upon the +tide up the Tagus, “so you’ve nothing to fear.” + </p> +<p> +“Upon my life,” replied the major, “I don’t half like the tone of our +conversation. There is a certain freedom young men affect now a-days +regarding morals that is not at all to my taste. When I was five or six +and twenty—” + </p> +<p> +“You were the greatest scamp in the service,” cried Power. +</p> +<p> +“Fie, fie, Fred. If I was a little wild or so,”—here the major’s +eyes twinkled maliciously,—“it was the ladies that spoiled me; I was +always something of a favorite, just like our friend Sparks there. Not +that we fared very much alike in our little adventures; for somehow, I +believe I was generally in fault in most of mine, as many a good man and +many an excellent man has been before.” Here his voice dropped into a +moralizing key, as he added, “David, you know, didn’t behave well to old +Uriah. Upon my life he did not, and he was a very respectable man.” + </p> +<p> +“The King of Spain’s sherry! the sherry!” cried I, fearing that the +major’s digression might lose us a good story. +</p> +<p> +“You shall not have a drop of it,” replied the major. +</p> +<p> +“But the story, Major, the story!” + </p> +<p> +“Nor the story, either.” + </p> +<p> +“What,” said Power, “will you break faith with us?” + </p> +<p> +“There’s none to be kept with reprobates like you. Fill my glass.” + </p> +<p> +“Hold there! stop!” cried Power. “Not a spoonful till he redeems his +pledge.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, if you must have a story,—for most assuredly I must +drink,—I have no objection to give you a leaf from my early +reminiscences; and in compliment to Sparks there, my tale shall be of +love.” + </p> +<p> +“I dinna like to lose the king’s story. I hae my thoughts it was na a bad +ane.” + </p> +<p> +“Nor I neither, Doctor; but—” + </p> +<p> +“Come, come, you shall have that too, the first night we meet in a +bivouac, and as I fear the time may not be very far distant, don’t be +impatient; besides a love-story—” + </p> +<p> +“Quite true,” said Power, “a love-story claims precedence; <i>place aux +dames</i>. There’s a bumper for you, old wickedness; so go along.” + </p> +<p> +The major cleared off his glass, refilled it, sipped twice, and ogled it +as though he would have no peculiar objection to sip once more, took a +long pinch of snuff from a box nearly as long as, and something the shape +of a child’s coffin, looked around to see that we were all attention, and +thus began:— +</p> +<p> +“When I have been in a moralizing mood, as I very frequently am about this +hour in the morning, I have often felt surprised by what little, trivial, +and insignificant circumstances our lot in life seems to be cast; I mean +especially as regards the fair sex. You are prospering, as it were, +to-day; to-morrow a new cut of your whiskers, a novel tie of your cravat, +mars your destiny and spoils your future, <i>varium et mutabile</i>, as +Horace has it. On the other hand, some equally slight circumstance will do +what all your ingenuity may have failed to effect. I knew a fellow who +married the greatest fortune in Bath, from the mere habit he had of +squeezing one’s hand. The lady in question thought it particular, looked +conscious, and all that; he followed up the blow; and, in a word, they +were married in a week. So a friend of mine, who could not help winking +his left eye, once opened a flirtation with a lively widow which cost him +a special license and a settlement. In fact you are never safe. They are +like the guerillas, and they pick you off when you least expect it, and +when you think there is nothing to fear. Therefore, as young fellows +beginning life, I would caution you. On this head you can never be too +circumspect. Do you know, I was once nearly caught by so slight a habit as +sitting thus, with my legs across.” + </p> +<p> +Here the major rested his right foot on his left knee, in illustration, +and continued:— +</p> +<p> +“We were quartered in Jamaica. I had not long joined, and was about as raw +a young gentleman as you could see; the only very clear ideas in my head +being that we were monstrous fine fellows in the 50th, and that the +planters’ daughters were deplorably in love with us. Not that I was much +wrong on either side. For brandy-and-water, sangaree, Manilla cigars, and +the ladies of color, I’d have backed the corps against the service. Proof +was, of eighteen only two ever left the island; for what with the +seductions of the coffee plantations, the sugar canes, the new rum, the +brown skins, the rainy season, and the yellow fever, most of us settled +there.” + </p> +<p> +“It’s very hard to leave the West Indies if once you’ve been quartered +there.” + </p> +<p> +“So I have heard,” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“In time, if you don’t knock under to the climate, you become soon totally +unfit for living anywhere else. Preserved ginger, yams, flannel jackets, +and grog won’t bear exportation; and the free-and-easy chuck under the +chin, cherishing, waist-pressing kind of way we get with the ladies would +be quite misunderstood in less favored regions, and lead to very +unpleasant consequences.” + </p> +<p> +“It is a curious fact how much climate has to do with love-making. In our +cold country the progress is lamentably slow. Fogs, east winds, sleet, +storms, and cutting March weather nip many a budding flirtation; whereas +warm, sunny days and bright moonlight nights, with genial air and balmy +zephyrs, open the heart like the cup of a camelia, and let us drink in the +soft dew of—” + </p> +<p> +“Devilish poetical, that,” said Power, evolving a long blue line of smoke +from the corner of his mouth. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it, though?” said the major, smiling graciously. “‘Pon my life, I +thought so myself. Where was I?” + </p> +<p> +“Out of my latitude altogether,” said the poor skipper, who often found it +hard to follow the thread of a story. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I remember. I was remarking that sangaree and calipash, mangoes and +guava jelly, dispose the heart to love, and so they do. I was not more +than six weeks in Jamaica when I felt it myself. Now, it was a very +dangerous symptom, if you had it strong in you, for this reason. Our +colonel, the most cross-grained old crabstick that ever breathed, happened +himself to be taken in when young, and resolving, like the fox who lost +his tail and said it was not the fashion to wear one, to pretend he did +the thing for fun, determined to make every fellow marry upon the +slightest provocation. Begad, you might as well enter a powder magazine +with a branch of candles in your hand, as go into society in the island +with a leaning towards the fair sex. Very hard this was for me +particularly; for like poor Sparks there, my weakness was ever for the +petticoats. I had, besides, no petty, contemptible prejudices as to +nation, habits, language, color, or complexion; black, brown, or fair, +from the Muscovite to the Malabar, from the voluptuous <i>embonpoint</i> +of the adjutant’s widow,—don’t be angry old boy,—to the fairy +form of Isabella herself, I loved them all round. But were I to give a +preference anywhere I should certainly do so to the West Indians, if it +were only for the sake of the planters’ daughters. I say it fearlessly, +these colonies are the brightest jewels in the crown. Let’s drink their +health, for I’m as husky as a lime-kiln.” + </p> +<p> +This ceremony being performed with suitable enthusiasm, the major cried +out, “Another cheer for Polly Hackett, the sweetest girl in Jamaica. By +Jove, Power, if you only saw her as I did five and forty years ago, with +eyes black as jet, twinkling, ogling, leering, teasing, and imploring, all +at once, do you mind, and a mouthful of downright pearls pouting and +smiling at you, why, man, you’d have proposed for her in the first +half-hour, and shot yourself the next, when she refused you. She was, +indeed, a perfect little beauty, <i>rayther</i> dark, to be sure,—a +little upon the rosewood tinge, but beautifully polished, and a very nice +piece of furniture for a cottage <i>orné</i>, as the French call it. Alas, +alas, how these vanities do catch hold of us! My recollections have made +me quite feverish and thirsty. Is there any cold punch in the bowl? Thank +you, O’Malley, that will do,—merely to touch my lips. Well, well, +it’s all past and gone now; but I was very fond of Polly Hackett, and she +was of me. We used to take our little evening walks together through the +coffee plantation: very romantic little strolls they were, she in white +muslin with a blue sash and blue shoes; I in a flannel jacket and +trousers, straw hat and cravat, a Virginia cigar as long as a +walking-stick in my mouth, puffing and courting between times; then we’d +take a turn to the refining-house, look in at the big boilers, quiz the +niggers, and come back to Twangberry Moss to supper, where old Hackett, +the father, sported a glorious table at eleven o’clock. Great feeding it +was; you were always sure of a preserved monkey, a baked land-crab, or +some such delicacy. And such Madeira; it makes me dry to think of it. +</p> +<p> +“Talk of West India slavery, indeed. It’s the only land of liberty. There +is nothing to compare with the perfect free-and-easy, +devil-may-care-kind-of-a-take-yourself way that every one has there. If it +would be any peculiar comfort for you to sit in the saddle of mutton, and +put your legs in a soup tureen at dinner, there would be found very few to +object to it. There is no nonsense of any kind about etiquette. You eat, +drink, and are merry, or, if you prefer, are sad; just as you please. You +may wear uniform, or you may not, it’s your own affair; and consequently, +it may be imagined how insensibly such privileges gain upon one, and how +very reluctant we become ever to resign or abandon them. +</p> +<p> +“I was the man to appreciate it all. The whole course of proceeding seemed +to have been invented for my peculiar convenience, and not a man in the +island enjoyed a more luxurious existence than myself, not knowing all the +while how dearly I was destined to pay for my little comforts. Among my +plenary after-dinner indulgences I had contracted an inveterate habit of +sitting cross-legged, as I showed you. Now, this was become a perfect +necessity of existence to me. I could have dispensed with cheese, with my +glass of port, my pickled mango, my olive, my anchovy toast, my nutshell +of curaçoa, but not my favorite lounge. You may smile; but I’ve read of a +man who could never dance except in a room with an old hair-brush. Now, +I’m certain my stomach would not digest if my legs were perpendicular. I +don’t mean to defend the thing. The attitude was not graceful, it was not +imposing; but it suited me somehow, and I liked it. +</p> +<p> +“From what I have already mentioned, you may suppose that West India +habits exercised but little control over my favorite practice, which I +indulged in every evening of my life. Well, one day old Hackett gave us a +great blow-out,—a dinner of two-and-twenty souls; six days’ notice; +turtle from St. Lucie, guinea-fowl, claret of the year forty, Madeira <i>à +discrétion</i>, and all that. Very well done the whole thing; nothing +wrong, nothing wanting. As for me, I was in great feather. I took Polly in +to dinner, greatly to the discomfiture of old Belson, our major, who was +making up in that quarter; for you must know, she was an only daughter, +and had a very nice thing of it in molasses and niggers. The papa +preferred the major, but Polly looked sweetly upon me. Well, down we went, +and really a most excellent feed we had. Now, I must mention here that +Polly had a favorite Blenheim spaniel the old fellow detested; it was +always tripping him up and snarling at him,—for it was, except to +herself, a beast of rather vicious inclinations. With a true Jamaica +taste, it was her pleasure to bring the animal always into the +dinner-room, where, if papa discovered him, there was sure to be a row. +Servants sent in one direction to hunt him out, others endeavoring to hide +him, and so on; in fact, a tremendous hubbub always followed his +introduction and accompanied his exit, upon which occasions I invariably +exercised my gallantry by protecting the beast, although I hated him like +the devil all the time. +</p> +<p> +“To return to our dinner. After two mortal hours of hard eating, the pace +began to slacken, and as evening closed in, a sense of peaceful repose +seemed to descend upon our labors. Pastels shed an aromatic vapor through +the room. The well-iced decanters went with measured pace along; +conversation, subdued to the meridian of after-dinner comfort, just +murmured; the open <i>jalousies</i> displayed upon the broad veranda the +orange-tree in full blossom, slightly stirring with the cool sea-breeze.” + </p> +<p> +“And the piece of white muslin beside you, what of her?” + </p> +<p> +“Looked twenty times more bewitching than ever. Well, it was just the hour +when, opening the last two buttons of your white waistcoat (remember we +were in Jamaica), you stretch your legs to the full extent, throw your arm +carelessly over the back of your chair, look contemplatively towards the +ceiling, and wonder, within yourself, why it is not all ‘after dinner’ in +this same world of ours. Such, at least, were my reflections as I assumed +my attitude of supreme comfort, and inwardly ejaculated a health to Sneyd +and Barton. Just at this moment I heard Polly’s voice gently whisper,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Isn’t he a love? Isn’t he a darling?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Zounds!’ thought I, as a pang of jealousy shot through my heart, ‘is it +the major she means?’ For old Belson, with his bag wig and rouged cheeks, +was seated on the other side of her. +</p> +<p> +“‘What a dear thing it is!’ said Polly. +</p> +<p> +“‘Worse and worse,’ said I; ‘it must be him.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I do so love his muzzy face.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘It is him!’ said I, throwing off a bumper, and almost boiling over with +passion at the moment. +</p> +<p> +“‘I wish I could take one look at him,’ said she, laying down her head as +she spoke. +</p> +<p> +“The major whispered something in her ear, to which she replied,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, I dare not; papa will see me at once.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Don’t be afraid, Madam,’ said I, fiercely; ‘your father perfectly +approves of your taste.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Are you sure of it?’ said she, giving me such a look. +</p> +<p> +“‘I know it,’ said I, struggling violently with my agitation. +</p> +<p> +“The major leaned over as if to touch her hand beneath the cloth. I almost +sprang from my chair, when Polly, in her sweetest accents, said,— +</p> +<p> +“‘You must be patient, dear thing, or you may be found out, and then there +will be such a piece of work. Though I’m sure, Major, you would not betray +me.’ The major smiled till he cracked the paint upon his cheeks. ‘And I am +sure that Mr. Monsoon—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You may rely upon me,’ said I, half sneeringly. +</p> +<p> +“The major and I exchanged glances of defiance, while Polly continued,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Now, come, don’t be restless. You are very comfortable there. Isn’t he, +Major?’ The major smiled again more graciously than before, as he added,— +</p> +<p> +“‘May I take a look?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Just one peep, then, no more!’ said she, coquettishly; ‘poor dear Wowski +is so timid.’ +</p> +<p> +“Scarcely had these words borne balm and comfort to my heart,—for I +now knew that to the dog, and not to my rival, were all the flattering +expressions applied,—when a slight scream from Polly, and a +tremendous oath from the major, raised me from my dream of happiness. +</p> +<p> +“‘Take your foot down, sir. Mr. Monsoon, how could you do so?’ cried +Polly. +</p> +<p> +“‘What the devil, sir, do you mean?’ shouted the major. +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, I shall die of shame,’ sobbed she. +</p> +<p> +“‘I’ll shoot him like a riddle,’ muttered old Belson. +</p> +<p> +“By this time the whole table had got at the story, and such peals of +laughter, mingled with suggestions for my personal maltreatment, I never +heard. All my attempts at explanation were in vain. I was not listened to, +much less believed; and the old colonel finished the scene by ordering me +to my quarters, in a voice I shall never forget, the whole room being, at +the time I made my exit, one scene of tumultuous laughter from one end to +the other. Jamaica after this became too hot for me. The story was +repeated on every side; for, it seems, I had been sitting with my foot on +Polly’s lap; but so occupied was I with my jealous vigilance of the major +I was not aware of the fact until she herself discovered it. +</p> +<p> +“I need not say how the following morning brought with it every possible +offer of <i>amende</i> upon my part; anything from a written apology to a +proposition to marry the lady I was ready for, and how the matter might +have ended I know not; for in the middle of the negotiations, we were +ordered off to Halifax where, be assured, I abandoned my Oriental attitude +for many a long day after.” + </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 LANDING. +</p> +<p> +What a contrast to the dull monotony of our life at sea did the scene +present which awaited us on landing in Lisbon. The whole quay was crowded +with hundreds of people eagerly watching the vessel which bore from her +mast the broad ensign of Britain. Dark-featured, swarthy, mustached faces, +with red caps rakishly set on one side, mingled with the Saxon faces and +fair-haired natives of our own country. Men-of-war boats plied unceasingly +to and fro across the tranquil river, some slender reefer in the +stern-sheets, while behind him trailed the red pennon of some “tall +admiral.” + </p> +<p> +The din and clamor of a mighty city mingled with the far-off sounds of +military music; and in the vistas of the opening street, masses of troops +might be seen in marching order; and all betokened the near approach of +war. +</p> +<p> +Our anchor had scarcely been dropped, when an eight-oar gig, with a +midshipman steering, came alongside. +</p> +<p> +“Ship ahoy, there! You’ve troops on board?” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, ay, sir.” + </p> +<p> +Before the answer could be spoken, he was on the deck. +</p> +<p> +“May I ask,” said he, touching his cap slightly, “who is the officer in +command of the detachment?” + </p> +<p> +“Captain Power; very much at your service,” said Fred, returning the +salute. +</p> +<p> +“Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Douglas requests that you will do him the favor +to come on board immediately, and bring your despatches with you.” + </p> +<p> +“I’m quite ready,” said Power, as he placed his papers in his sabretasche; +“but first tell us what’s doing here. Anything new lately?” + </p> +<p> +“I have heard nothing, except of some affair with the Portuguese,—they’ve +been drubbed again; but our people have not been engaged. I say, we had +better get under way; there’s our first lieutenant with his telescope up; +he’s looking straight at us. So, come along. Good-evening, gentlemen.” And +in another moment the sharp craft was cutting the clear water, while Power +gayly waved us a good-by. +</p> +<p> +“Who’s for shore?” said the skipper, as half-a-dozen boats swarmed around +the side, or held on by their boat-hooks to the rigging. +</p> +<p> +“Who is not?” said Monsoon, who now appeared in his old blue frock covered +with tarnished braiding, and a cocked hat that might have roofed a pagoda. +“Who is not, my old boy? Is not every man among us delighted with the +prospect of fresh prog, cool wine, and a bed somewhat longer than four +feet six? I say, O’Malley! Sparks! Where’s the adjutant? Ah, there he is! +We’ll not mind the doctor,—he’s a very jovial little fellow, but a +damned bore, <i>entre nous</i>; and we’ll have a cosy little supper at the +Rue di Toledo. I know the place well. Whew, now! Get away, boy. Sit +steady, Sparks; she’s only a cockleshell. There; that’s the Plaza de la +Regna,—there, to the left. There’s the great cathedral,—you +can’t see it now. Another seventy-four! Why there’s a whole fleet here! I +wish old Power joy of his afternoon with old Douglas.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you know him then, Major?” + </p> +<p> +“Do I?—I should rather think I do. He was going to put me in irons +here in this river once. A great shame it was; but I’ll tell you the story +another time. There, gently now; that’s it. Thank God! once more upon +land. How I do hate a ship; upon my life, a sauce-boat is the only boat +endurable in this world.” + </p> +<p> +We edged our way with difficulty through the dense crowd, and at last +reached the Plaza. Here the numbers were still greater, but of a different +class: several pretty and well-dressed women, with their dark eyes +twinkling above their black mantillas as they held them across their +faces, watched with an intense curiosity one of the streets that opened +upon the square. +</p> +<p> +In a few moments the band of a regiment was heard, and very shortly after +the regular tramp of troops followed, as the Eighty-seventh marched into +the Plaza, and formed a line. +</p> +<p> +The music ceased; the drums rolled along the line; and the next moment all +was still. It was really an inspiriting sight to one whose heart was +interested in the career, to see those gallant fellows, as, with their +bronzed faces and stalwart frames, they stood motionless as a rock. As I +continued to look, the band marched into the middle of the square, and +struck up, “Garryowen.” Scarcely was the first part played, when a +tremendous cheer burst from the troop-ship in the river. The welcome notes +had reached the poor fellows there; the well-known sounds that told of +home and country met their ears; and the loud cry of recognition bespoke +their hearts’ fullness. +</p> +<p> +“There they go. Your wild countrymen have heard their <i>Ranz des vaches</i>, +it seems. Lord! how they frightened the poor Portuguese; look how they’re +running!” + </p> +<p> +Such was actually the case. The loud cheer uttered from the river was +taken up by others straggling on shore, and one universal shout betokened +that fully one-third of the red-coats around came from the dear island, +and in their enthusiasm had terrified the natives to no small extent. +</p> +<p> +“Is not that Ferguson there!” cried the major, as an officer passed us +with his arm in a sling. “I say, Joe—Ferguson! oh, knew it was!” + </p> +<p> +“Monsoon, my hearty, how goes it?—only just arrived, I see. +Delighted to meet you out here once more. Why, we’ve been as dull as a +veteran battalion without you. These your friends? Pray present me.” The +ceremony of introduction over, the major invited Ferguson to join our +party at supper. “No, not to-night, Major,” said he, “you must be my +guests this evening. My quarters are not five minutes’ walk from this; I +shall not promise you very luxurious fare.” + </p> +<p> +“A carbonade with olives, a roast duck, a bowl of bishop, and, if you +will, a few bottles of Burgundy,” said the major; “don’t put yourself out +for us,—soldier’s fare, eh?” + </p> +<p> +I could not help smiling at the <i>naïve</i> notion of simplicity so +cunningly suggested by old Monsoon. As I followed the party through the +streets, my step was light, my heart not less so; for what sensations are +more delightful than those of landing after a voyage? The escape from the +durance vile of shipboard, with its monotonous days and dreary nights, its +ill-regulated appointments, its cramped accommodation, its uncertain +duration, its eternal round of unchanging amusements, for the freedom of +the shore, with a land breeze, and a firm footing to tread upon; and +certainly, not least of all, the sight of that brightest part of creation, +whose soft eyes and tight ankles are, perhaps, the greatest of all +imaginable pleasures to him who has been the dweller on blue water for +several weeks long. +</p> +<p> +“Here we are,” cried out Ferguson, as we stopped at the door of a large +and handsome house. We follow up a spacious stair into an ample room, +sparingly, but not uncomfortably furnished: plans of sieges, maps of the +seat of war, pistols, sabres, and belts decorated the white walls, and a +few books and a stray army list betokened the habits of the occupant. +</p> +<p> +While Ferguson disappeared to make some preparations for supper, Monsoon +commenced a congratulation to the party upon the good fortune that had +befallen them. “Capital fellow is Joe; never without something good, and a +rare one to pass the bottle. Oh, here he comes. Be alive there, Sparks, +take a corner of the cloth; how deliciously juicy that ham looks. Pass the +Madeira down there; what’s under that cover,—stewed kidneys?” While +Monsoon went on thus we took our places at the table, and set to with an +appetite which only a newly-landed traveller ever knows. +</p> +<p> +“Another spoonful of the gravy? Thank you. And so they say we’ve not been +faring over well latterly?” said the major. +</p> +<p> +“Not a word of truth in the report. Our people have not been engaged. The +only thing lately was a smart brush we had at the Tamega. Poor Patrick, a +countryman of ours, and myself were serving with the Portuguese brigade, +when Laborde drove us back upon the town and actually routed us. The +Portuguese general, caring little for anything save his own safety, was +making at once for the mountains when Patrick called upon his battalion to +face about and charge; and nobly they did it, too. Down they came upon the +advancing masses of the French, and literally hurled them back upon the +main body. The other regiments, seeing this gallant stand, wheeled about +and poured in a volley, and then, fixing bayonets, stormed a little mount +beside the hedge, which commanded the whole suburb of Villa Real. The +French, who soon recovered their order, now prepared for a second attack, +and came on in two dense columns, when Patrick, who had little confidence +in the steadiness of his people for any lengthened resistance, resolved +upon once more charging with the bayonet. The order was scarcely given +when the French were upon us, their flank defended by some of La +Houssaye’s heavy dragoons. For an instant the conflict was doubtful, until +poor Patrick fell mortally wounded upon the parapet; when the men, no +longer hearing his bold cheer, nor seeing his noble figure in the advance, +turned and fled, pell-mell, back upon the town. As for me, blocked up +amidst the mass, I was cut down from the shoulder to the elbow by a young +fellow of about sixteen, who galloped about like a schoolboy on a holiday. +The wound was only dangerous from the loss of blood, and so I contrived to +reach Amacante without much difficulty; from whence, with three or four +others, I was ordered here until fit for service.” + </p> +<p> +“But what news from our own head-quarters?” inquired I. +</p> +<p> +“All imaginable kind of rumors are afloat. Some say that Craddock is +retiring; others, that a part of the army is in motion upon Caldas.” + </p> +<p> +“Then we are not going to have a very long sojourn here, after all, eh, +Major? Donna Maria de Tormes will be inconsolable. By-the-bye, their house +is just opposite us. Have you never heard Monsoon mention his friends +there?” + </p> +<p> +“Come, come, Joe, how can you be so foolish?” + </p> +<p> +“But, Major, my dear friend, what signifies your modesty? There is not a +man in the service does not know it, save those in the last gazette.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed, Joe, I am very angry with you.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, by Jove! I must tell it, myself; though, faith, lads, you +lose not a little for want of Monsoon’s tact in the narrative.” + </p> +<p> +“Anything is better that trusting to such a biographer,” cried the major; +“so here goes:— +</p> +<p> +“When I was acting commissary-general to the Portuguese forces some few +years ago, I obtained great experience of the habits of the people; for +though naturally of an unsuspecting temperament myself, I generally +contrive to pick out the little foibles of my associates, even upon a +short acquaintance. Now, my appointment pleased me very much on this +score,—it gave me little opportunities of examining the world. ‘The +greatest study of mankind is man,’—Sparks would say woman, but no +matter. +</p> +<p> +“Now, I soon discovered that our ancient and very excellent allies, the +Portuguese, with a beautiful climate, delicious wines, and very delightful +wives and daughters, were the most infernal rogues and scoundrels ever met +with. ‘Make yourself thoroughly acquainted with the leading features of +the natives,’ said old Sir Harry to me in a despatch from head-quarters; +and, faith, it was not difficult,—such open, palpable, undisguised +rascals never were heard of. I thought I knew a thing or two myself, when +I landed; but, Lord love you! I was a babe, I was an infant in swaddling +clothes, compared with them; and they humbugged me,—ay, <i>me!</i>—till +I began to suspect that I was only walking in my sleep. +</p> +<p> +“‘Why, Monsoon,’ said the general, ‘they told me you were a sharp fellow, +and yet the people here seem to work round you every day. This will never +do. You must brighten up a little or I shall be obliged to send you back.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘General,’ said I, ‘they used to call me no fool in England; but, +somehow, here—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I understand,’ said he; ‘you don’t know the Portuguese; there’s but one +way with them,—strike quickly, and strike home. Never give them time +for roguery,—for if they have a moment’s reflection, they’ll cheat +the devil himself; but when you see the plot working, come slap down and +decide the thing your own way.’ +</p> +<p> +“Well, now, there never was anything so true as this advice, and for the +eighteen months I acted upon it, I never knew it to fail. +</p> +<p> +“‘I want a thousand measures of wheat.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Senhor Excellenza, the crops have been miserably deficient, and——’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Sergeant-major,’ I would say, ‘these poor people have no corn; it’s a +wine country,—let them make up the rations that way.’ +</p> +<p> +“The wheat came in that evening. +</p> +<p> +“‘One hundred and twenty bullocks wanted for the reserve.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The cattle are all up the mountains.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Let the alcalde catch them before night or I’ll catch <i>him</i>.’ +</p> +<p> +“Lord bless you! I had beef enough to feed the Peninsula. And in this way, +while the forces were eating short allowance and half rations elsewhere, +our brigade were plump as aldermen. +</p> +<p> +“When we lay in Andalusia this was easy enough. What a country, to be +sure! Such vineyards, such gardens, such delicious valleys, waving with +corn and fat with olives; actually, it seemed a kind of dispensation of +Providence to make war in. There was everything you could desire; and +then, the people, like all your wealthy ones, were so timid, and so easily +frightened, you could get what you pleased out of them by a little terror. +My scouts managed this very well. +</p> +<p> +“‘He is coming,’ they would say, ‘after to-morrow.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘<i>Madre de Dios!</i>’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I hope he won’t burn the village.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘<i>Questos infernales Ingleses!</i> how wicked they are.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You’d better try what a sack of moidores or doubloons might do with him; +he may refuse them, but make the effort.’ +</p> +<p> +“Ha!” said the major, with a long-drawn sigh, “those were pleasant times; +alas, that they should ever come to an end! Well, among the old hidalgos I +met there was one Don Emanuel Selvio de Tormes, an awful old miser, rich +as Croesus, and suspicious as the arch-fiend himself. Lord, how I melted +him down! I quartered two squadrons of horse and a troop of flying +artillery upon him. How the fellows did eat! Such a consumption of wines +was never heard of; and as they began to slacken a little, I took care to +replace them by fresh arrivals,—fellows from the mountains, <i>caçadores</i> +they call them. At last, my friend Don Emanuel could stand it no longer, +and he sent me a diplomatic envoy to negotiate terms, which, upon the +whole, I must say, were fair enough; and in a few days after, the <i>caçadores</i> +were withdrawn, and I took up my quarters at the château. I have had +various chances and changes in this wicked world, but I am free to confess +that I never passed a more agreeable time than the seven weeks I spent +there. Don Emanuel, when properly managed, became a very pleasant little +fellow; Donna Maria, his wife, was a sweet creature. You need not be +winking that way. Upon my life she was: rather fat, to be sure, and her +age something verging upon the fifties; but she had such eyes, black as +sloes, and luscious as ripe grapes; and she was always smiling and ogling, +and looking so sweet. Confound me, if I think she wasn’t the most +enchanting being in this world, with about ten thousand pounds’ worth of +jewels upon her fingers and in her ears. I have her before me at this +instant, as she used to sit in the little arbor in the garden, with a +Manilla cigar in her mouth, and a little brandy-and-water—quite +weak, you know—beside her. +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah, General,’ she used to say—she always called me general—‘what +a glorious career yours is! A soldier is <i>indeed</i> a man.’ +</p> +<p> +“Then she would look at poor Emanuel, who used to sit in a corner, holding +his hand to his face, for hours, calculating interest and cent per cent, +till he fell asleep. +</p> +<p> +“Now, he labored under a very singular malady,—not that I ever knew +it at the time,—a kind of luxation of the lower jaw, which, when it +came on, happened somehow to press upon some vital nerve or other, and +left him perfectly paralyzed till it was restored to its proper place. In +fact, during the time the agony lasted, he was like one in a trance; for +though he could see and hear, he could neither speak nor move, and looked +as if he had done with both for many a day to come. +</p> +<p> +“Well, as I was saying, I knew nothing of all this till a slight +circumstance made it known to me. I was seated one evening in the little +arbor I mentioned, with Donna Maria. There was a little table before us +covered with wines and fruits, a dish of olives, some Castile oranges, and +a fresh pine. I remember it well: my eye roved over the little dessert set +out in old-fashioned, rich silver dishes, then turned towards the lady +herself, with rings and brooches, earrings and chains enough to reward one +for sacking a town; and I said to myself, ‘Monsoon, Monsoon, this is +better than long marches in the Pyrenees, with a cork-tree for a +bed-curtain, and wet grass for a mattress. How pleasantly one might jog on +in this world with this little country-house for his abode, and Donna +Maria for a companion!’ +</p> +<p> +“I tasted the port; it was delicious. Now, I knew very little Portuguese, +but I made some effort to ask if there was much of it in the cellar. +</p> +<p> +“She smiled, and said, ‘Oh, yes.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What a luxurious life one might lead here!’ thought I; ‘and after all, +perhaps Providence might remove Don Emanuel.’ +</p> +<p> +“I finished the bottle as I thus meditated. The next was, if possible, +more crusty. +</p> +<p> +“‘This is a delicious retreat,’ said I, soliloquizing. +</p> +<p> +“Donna Maria seemed to know what was passing in my mind, for she smiled, +too. +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes,’ said I, in broken Portuguese, ‘one ought to be very happy here, +Donna Maria.’ +</p> +<p> +“She blushed, and I continued:— +</p> +<p> +“‘What can one want for more in this life? All the charms that rendered +Paradise what it was’—I took her hand here—‘and made Adam +blessed.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah, General!’ said she, with a sigh, ‘you are such a flatterer.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Who could flatter,’ said I, with enthusiasm, ‘when there are not words +enough to express what he feels?’ This was true, for my Portuguese was +fast failing me, ‘But if I ever was happy, it is now.’ +</p> +<p> +“I took another pull at the port. +</p> +<p> +“‘If I only thought,’ said I, ‘that my presence here was not thought +unwelcome—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Fie, General,’ said she, ‘how could you say such a thing?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘If I only thought I was not hated,’ said I, tremblingly. +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh!’ said she, again. +</p> +<p> +“‘Despised.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Loathed.’ +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0331.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Major Monsoon and Donna Maria." + /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“She pressed my hand, I kissed hers; she hurriedly snatched it from me, +and pointed towards a lime-tree near, beneath which, in the cool enjoyment +of his cigar, sat the spare and detested figure of Don Emanuel. +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes,’ thought I, ‘there he is,—the only bar to my good fortune; +were it not for him, I should not be long before I became possessor of +this excellent old château, with a most indiscretionary power over the +cellar. Don Mauricius Monsoon would speedily assume his place among the +grandees of Portugal.’ +</p> +<p> +“I know not how long my revery lasted, nor, indeed, how the evening +passed; but I remember well the moon was up, and a sky, bright with a +thousand stars was shining, as I sat beside the fair Donna Maria, +endeavoring, with such Portuguese as it had pleased fate to bestow on me, +to instruct her touching my warlike services and deeds of arms. The fourth +bottle of port was ebbing beneath my eloquence, as responsively her heart +beat, when I heard a slight rustle in the branches near. I looked, and, +Heavens, what a sight did I behold! There was little Don Emanuel stretched +upon the grass with his mouth wide open, his face pale as death, his arms +stretched out at either side, and his legs stiffened straight out. I ran +over and asked if he were ill, but no answer came. I lifted up an arm, but +it fell heavily upon the ground as I let it go; the leg did likewise. I +touched his nose; it was cold. +</p> +<p> +“‘Hollo,’ thought I, ‘is it so? This comes of mixing water with your +sherry. I saw where it would end.’ +</p> +<p> +“Now, upon my life! I felt sorry for the little fellow; but somehow, one +gets so familiarized with this sort of thing in a campaign that one only +half feels in a case like this. +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes,’ said I, ‘man is but grass; but I for one must make hay when the +sun shines. Now for the Donna Maria,’—for the poor thing was asleep +in the arbor all this while. +</p> +<p> +“‘Donna,’ said I, shaking her by the elbow,—‘Donna, don’t be shocked +at what I’m going to say.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah, General,’ said she, with a sigh, ‘say no more; I must not listen to +you.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You don’t know that,’ said I, with a knowing look,—‘you don’t know +that.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Why, what can you mean?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The little fellow is done for.’ For the port was working strong now, and +destroyed all my fine sensibility. ‘Yes, Donna,’ said I, ‘you are free,’—here +I threw myself upon my knees,—‘free to make me the happiest of +commissaries and the jolliest grandee of Portugal that ever—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘But Don Emanuel?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Run out, dry, empty,’ inverting a finished decanter to typify my words +as I spoke. +</p> +<p> +“‘He is not dead?’ said she, with a scream. +</p> +<p> +“‘Even so,’ said I, with a hiccough! ‘ordered for service in a better +world, where there are neither inspections nor arrears.’ +</p> +<p> +“Before the words were well out, she sprang from the bench and rushed over +to the spot where the little don lay. What she said or did I know not, but +the next moment he sat bolt upright on the grass, and as he held his jaw +with one hand and supported himself on the other, vented such a torrent of +abuse and insult at me, that, for want of Portuguese enough to reply, I +rejoined in English, in which I swore pretty roundly for five minutes. +Meanwhile the donna had summoned the servants, who removed Don Emanuel to +the house, where on my return I found my luggage displayed before the +door, with a civil hint to deploy in orderly time and take ground +elsewhere. +</p> +<p> +“In a few days, however, his anger cooled down, and I received a polite +note from Donna Maria, that the don at length began to understand the +joke, and begged that I would return to the château, and that he would +expect me at dinner the same day.” + </p> +<p> +“With which, of course, you complied?” + </p> +<p> +“Which of course I did. Forgive your enemies, my dear boy,—it is +only Christian-like; and really, we lived very happily ever after. The +donna was a mighty clever woman, and a dear good soul besides.” + </p> +<p> +It was late when the major concluded his story; so after wishing Ferguson +a good-night, we took our leave, and retired for the night to our +quarters. +</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> +LISBON. +</p> +<p> +The tramp of horses’ feet and the sound of voices beneath my window roused +me from a deep sleep. I sprang up and drew aside the curtain. What a +strange confusion beset me as I looked forth! Before me lay a broad and +tranquil river whose opposite shore, deeply wooded and studded with villas +and cottages, rose abruptly from the water’s edge; vessels of war lay +tranquilly in the stream, their pennants trailing in the tide. The loud +boom of a morning gun rolled along the surface, awaking a hundred echoes +as it passed, and the lazy smoke rested for some minutes on the glassy +water as it blended with the thin air of the morning. +</p> +<p> +“Where am I?” was my first question to myself, as I continued to look from +side to side, unable to collect my scattered senses. +</p> +<p> +One word sufficed to recall me to myself, as I heard Power’s voice, from +without, call out, “Charley! O’Malley, I say! Come down here!” + </p> +<p> +I hurriedly threw on my clothes and went to the door. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Charley, I’ve been put in harness rather sooner than I expected. +Here’s old Douglas has been sitting up all night writing despatches; and I +must hasten on to headquarters without a moment’s delay. There’s work +before us, that’s certain; but when, where, and how, of that I know +nothing. You may expect the route every moment; the French are still +advancing. Meanwhile I have a couple of commissions for you to execute. +First, here’s a packet for Hammersley; you are sure to meet him with the +regiment in a day or two. I have some scruples about asking you this; but, +confound it! you’re too sensible a fellow to care—” Here he +hesitated; and as I colored to the eyes, for some minutes he seemed +uncertain how to proceed. At length, recovering himself, he went on: “Now +for the other. This is a most loving epistle from a poor devil of a +midshipman, written last night by a tallow candle, in the cock-pit, +containing vows of eternal adoration and a lock of hair. I promised +faithfully to deliver it myself; for the ‘Thunderer’ sails for Gibraltar +next tide, and he cannot go ashore for an instant. However, as Sir +Arthur’s billet may be of more importance than the reefer’s, I must +intrust its safe keeping to your hands. Now, then, don’t look so devilish +sleepy, but seem to understand what I am saying. This is the address: ‘La +Senhora Inez da Silviero, Rua Nuova, opposite the barber’s.’ You’ll not +neglect it. So now, my dear boy, till our next meeting, <i>adios!</i>” + </p> +<p> +“Stop! For Heaven’s sake, not so fast, I pray! Where’s the street?” + </p> +<p> +“The Rua Nuova. Remember Figaro, my boy. <i>Cinque perruche</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“But what am I to do?” + </p> +<p> +“To do! What a question! Anything; everything. Be a good diplomate. Speak +of the torturing agony of the lover, for which I can vouch. The boy is +only fifteen. Swear that he is to return in a month, first lieutenant of +the ‘Thunder Bomb,’ with intentions that even Madame Dalrymple would +approve.” + </p> +<p> +“What nonsense,” said I, blushing to the eyes. +</p> +<p> +“And if that suffice not, I know of but one resource.” + </p> +<p> +“Which is?” + </p> +<p> +“Make love to her yourself. Ay, even so. Don’t look so confoundedly +vinegar; the girl, I hear, is a devilish pretty one, the house pleasant, +and I sincerely wish I could exchange duties with you, leaving you to make +your bows to his Excellency the C. O. F., and myself free to make mine to +La Senhora. And now, push along, old red cap.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, he made a significant cut of his whip at the Portuguese guide, +and in another moment was out of sight. +</p> +<p> +My first thought was one of regret at Power’s departure. For some time +past we had been inseparable companions; and notwithstanding the reckless +and wild gayety of his conduct, I had ever found him ready to assist me in +every difficulty, and that with an address and dexterity a more +calculating adviser might not have possessed. I was now utterly alone; for +though Monsoon and the adjutant were still in Lisbon, as was also Sparks, +I never could make intimates of them. +</p> +<p> +I ate my breakfast with a heavy heart, my solitary position again +suggesting thoughts of home and kindred. Just at this moment my eyes fell +upon the packet destined for Hammersley; I took it up and weighed it in my +hand. “Alas!” thought I, “how much of my destiny may lie within that +envelope! How fatally may my after-life be influenced by it!” It felt +heavy as though there was something besides letters. True, too true; there +was a picture, Lucy’s portrait! The cold drops of perspiration stood upon +my forehead as my fingers traced the outline of a miniature-case in the +parcel. I became deadly weak, and sank, half-fainting, upon a chair. And +such is the end of my first dream of happiness! How have I duped, how have +I deceived myself! For, alas, though Lucy had never responded to my +proffered vows of affection, yet had I ever nurtured in my heart a secret +hope that I was not altogether uncared for. Every look she had given me, +every word she had spoken, the tone of her voice, her step, her every +gesture, were before me, all confirming my delusion, and yet,—I +could bear no more, and burst into tears. +</p> +<p> +The loud call of a cavalry trumpet aroused me. +</p> +<p> +How long I had passed in this state of despondency I knew not; but it was +long past noon when I rallied myself. My charger was already awaiting me; +and a second blast of the trumpet told that the inspection in the Plaza +was about to commence. +</p> +<p> +As I continued to dress, I gradually rallied from my depressing thoughts; +and ere I belted my sabretasche, the current of my ideas had turned from +their train of sadness to one of hardihood and daring. Lucy Dashwood had +treated me like a wilful schoolboy. Mayhap, I may prove myself as gallant +a soldier as even him she has preferred before me. +</p> +<p> +A third sound of the trumpet cut short my reflections, and I sprang into +the saddle, and hastened towards the Plaza. As I dashed along the streets, +my horse, maddened with the impulse that stirred my own heart, curvetted +and plunged unceasingly. As I reached the Plaza, the crowd became dense, +and I was obliged to pull up. The sound of the music, the parade, the +tramp of the infantry, and the neighing of the horses, were, however, too +much for my mettlesome steed, and he became nearly unmanageable; he +plunged fearfully, and twice reared as though he would have fallen back. +As I scattered the foot passengers right and left with terror, my eye fell +upon one lovely girl, who, tearing herself from her companion, rushed +wildly towards an open doorway for shelter; suddenly, however, changing +her intention, she came forward a few paces, and then, as if overcome by +fear, stood stock-still, her hands clasped upon her bosom, her eyes +upturned, her features deadly pale, while her knees seemed bending beneath +her. Never did I behold a more beautiful object. Her dark hair had fallen +loose upon her shoulder, and she stood the very <i>idéal</i> of the +“Madonna Supplicating.” My glance was short as a lightning flash; for the +same instant my horse swerved, and dashed forward right at the place where +she was standing. One terrific cry rose from the crowd, who saw her +danger. Beside her stood a muleteer who had drawn up his mule and cart +close beside the footway for safety; she made one effort to reach it, but +her outstretched arms alone moved, and paralyzed by terror, she sank +motionless upon the pavement. There was but one course open to me now; so +collecting myself for the effort, I threw my horse upon his haunches, and +then, dashing the spurs into his flanks, breasted him at the mule cart. +With one spring he rose, and cleared it at a bound, while the very air +rang with the acclamations of the multitude, and a thousand bravos saluted +me as I alighted upon the opposite side. +</p> +<p> +“Well done, O’Malley!” sang out the little adjutant, as I flew past and +pulled up in the middle of the Plaza. +</p> +<p> +“Something devilish like Galway in that leap,” said a very musical voice +beside me; and at the same instant a tall, soldier-like man, in an undress +dragoon frock, touched his cap, and said, “A 14th man, I perceive, sir. +May I introduce myself? Major O’Shaughnessy.” + </p> +<p> +I bowed, and shook the major’s proffered hand, while he continued,— +</p> +<p> +“Old Monsoon mentioned your name to us this morning. You came out +together, if I mistake not?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; but somehow, I’ve missed the major since my landing.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, you’ll see him presently; he’ll be on parade. By-the-bye, he wishes +particularly to meet you. We dine to-day at the ‘Quai de Soderi,’ and if +you’re not engaged—Yes, this is the person,” said he, turning at the +moment towards a servant, who, with a card in his hand, seemed to search +for some one in the crowd. +</p> +<p> +The man approached, and handed it to me. +</p> +<p> +“What can this mean?” said I. “Don Emanuel de Blacas y Silviero, Rua +Nuova.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, that’s the great Portuguese contractor, the intendant of half the +army, the richest fellow in Lisbon. Have you known him long?” + </p> +<p> +“Never heard of him till now.” + </p> +<p> +“By Jove, you’re in luck! No man gives such dinners; he has such a cellar! +I’ll wager a fifty it was his daughter you took in the flying leap a while +ago. I hear she is a beautiful creature.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” thought I, “that must be it; and yet, strange enough, I think the +name and address are familiar to me.” + </p> +<p> +“Ten to one, you’ve heard Monsoon speak of him; he’s most intimate there. +But here comes the major.” + </p> +<p> +And as he spoke, the illustrious commissary came forward holding a vast +bundle of papers in one hand, and his snuff-box in the other, followed by +a long string of clerks, contractors, assistant-surgeons, paymasters, +etc., all eagerly pressing forward to be heard. +</p> +<p> +“It’s quite impossible; I can’t do it to-day. Victualling and physicking +are very good things, but must be done in season. I have been up all night +at the accounts,—haven’t I, O’Malley?” here he winked at me most +significantly; “and then I have the forage and stoppage fund to look +through [‘we dine at six, sharp,’ said he, <i>sotto voce</i>], which will +leave me without one minute unoccupied for the next twenty-four hours. +Look to your toggery this evening; I’ve something in my eye for you, +O’Malley.” + </p> +<p> +“Officers unattached to their several corps will fall into the middle of +the Plaza,” said a deep voice among the crowd; and in obedience to the +order I rode forward and placed myself with a number of others, apparently +newly joined, in the open square. A short, gray-haired old colonel, with a +dark, eagle look, proceeded to inspect us, reading from a paper as he came +along,— +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Hepton, 6th Foot; commission bearing date 11th January; drilled, +proceed to Ovar, and join his regiment. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Gronow, Fusilier Guards, remains with the depot. +</p> +<p> +“Captain Mortimer, 1st Dragoons, appointed aide-de-camp to the general +commanding the cavalry brigade. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Sparks,—where is Mr. Sparks? Mr. Sparks absent from parade; +make a note of it. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley, 14th Light Dragoons. Mr. O’Malley,—oh, I remember! I +have received a letter from Sir George Dashwood concerning you. You will +hold yourself in readiness to march. Your friends desire that before you +may obtain any staff appointment, you should have the opportunity of +seeing some service. Am I to understand such is your wish?” + </p> +<p> +“Most certainly.” + </p> +<p> +“May I have the pleasure of your company at dinner to-day?” + </p> +<p> +“I regret that I have already accepted an invitation to dine with Major +Monsoon.” + </p> +<p> +“With Major Monsoon? Ah, indeed! Perhaps it might be as well I should +mention,—but no matter. I wish you good-morning.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, the little colonel rode off, leaving me to suppose that my +dinner engagement had not raised me in his estimation, though why, I could +not exactly determine. +</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 RUA NUOVA. +</p> +<p> +Our dinner was a long and uninteresting one, and as I found that the major +was likely to prefer his seat as chairman of the party to the seductions +of ladies’ society, I took the first opportunity of escaping and left the +room. +</p> +<p> +It was a rich moonlight night as I found myself in the street. My way, +which led along the banks of the Tagus, was almost as light as in daytime, +and crowded with walking parties, who sauntered carelessly along in the +enjoyment of the cool, refreshing night-air. On inquiring, I discovered +that the Rua Nuova was at the extremity of the city; but as the road led +along by the river I did not regret the distance, but walked on with +increasing pleasure at the charms of so heavenly a climate and country. +</p> +<p> +After three quarters of an hour’s walk, the streets became by degrees less +and less crowded. A solitary party passed me now and then; the buzz of +distant voices succeeded to the gay laughter and merry tones of the +passing groups, and at length my own footsteps alone awoke the echoes +along the deserted pathway. I stopped every now and then to gaze upon the +tranquil river, whose eddies were circling in the pale silver of the +moonlight. I listened with attentive ear as the night breeze wafted to me +the far-off sounds of a guitar, and the deep tones of some lover’s +serenade; while again the tender warbling of the nightingale came borne +across the stream on a wind rich with the odor of the orange-tree. +</p> +<p> +As thus I lingered on my way the time stole on, and it was near midnight +ere I had roused myself from the revery surrounding objects had thrown +about me. I stopped suddenly, and for some minutes I struggled with myself +to discover if I was really awake. As I walked along, lost in my +reflections, I had entered a little garden beside the river. Fragrant +plants and lovely flowers bloomed on every side; the orange, the camelia, +the cactus, and the rich laurel of Portugal were blending their green and +golden hues around me, while the very air was filled with delicious music. +“Was it a dream? Could such ecstasy be real?” I asked myself, as the rich +notes swelled upwards in their strength, and sank in soft cadence to tones +of melting harmony; now bursting forth in the full force of gladness, the +voices blended together in one stream of mellow music, and suddenly +ceasing, the soft but thrilling shake of a female voice rose upon the air, +and in its plaintive beauty stirred the very heart. The proud tramp of +martial music succeeded to the low wailing cry of agony; then came the +crash of battle, the clang of steel; the thunder of the fight rolled on in +all its majesty, increasing in its maddening excitement till it ended in +one loud shout of victory. +</p> +<p> +All was still; not a breath moved, not a leaf stirred, and again was I +relapsing into my dreamy scepticism, when again the notes swelled upwards +in concert. But now their accents were changed, and in low, subdued tones, +faintly and slowly uttered, the prayer of thanksgiving rose to Heaven and +spoke their gratefulness. I almost fell upon my knees, and already the +tears filled my eyes as I drank in the sounds. My heart was full to +bursting, and even now as I write it my pulse throbs as I remember the +hymn of the Abencerrages. +</p> +<p> +When I rallied from my trance of excited pleasure, my first thought was, +where was I, and how came I there? Before I could resolve my doubts upon +the question, my attention was turned in another direction, for close +beside me the branches moved forward, and a pair of arms were thrown +around my neck, while a delicious voice cried out in an accent of +childish, delight, “<i>Trovado!</i>” At the same instant a lovely head +sank upon my shoulder, covering it with tresses of long brown hair. The +arms pressed me still more closely, till I felt her very heart beating +against my side. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Mio fradre</i>,” said a soft, trembling voice, as her fingers played +in my hair and patted my temples. +</p> +<p> +What a situation mine! I well knew that some mistaken identity had been +the cause, but still I could not repress my inclination to return the +embrace, as I pressed my lips upon the fair forehead that leaned upon my +bosom; at the same moment she threw back her head, as if to look me more +fully in the face. One glance sufficed; blushing deeply over her cheeks +and neck, she sprang from my arms, and uttering a faint cry, staggered +against a tree. In an instant I saw it was the lovely girl I had met in +the morning; and without losing a second I poured out apologies for my +intrusion with all the eloquence I was master of, till she suddenly +interrupted me by asking if I spoke French. Scarcely had I recommenced my +excuses in that language, when a third party appeared upon the stage. This +was a short, elderly man, in a green uniform, with several decorations +upon his breast, and a cocked hat with a most flowing plume in his right +hand. +</p> +<p> +“May I beg to know whom I have the honor of receiving?” inquired he, in +very excellent English, as he advanced with a look of very ceremonious and +distant politeness. +</p> +<p> +I immediately explained that, presuming upon the card which his servant +had presented me, I had resolved on paying my respects when a mistake had +led me accidentally into his garden. +</p> +<p> +My apologies had not come to an end when he folded me in his arms and +overwhelmed me with thanks, at the same time saying a few words in +Portuguese to his daughter. She stooped down, and taking my hand gently +within her own, touched it with her lips. +</p> +<p> +This piece of touching courtesy,—which I afterwards found meant +little or nothing,—affected me deeply at the time, and I felt the +blood rush to my face and forehead, half in pride, half in a sense of +shame. My confusion was, however, of short duration; for taking my arm, +the old gentleman led me along a few paces, and turning round a small +clump of olives, entered a little summer-house. Here a considerable party +were assembled, which for their picturesque effect could scarcely have +been better managed on the stage. +</p> +<p> +Beneath the mild lustre of a large lamp of stained glass, half hid in the +overhanging boughs, was spread a table covered with vessels of gold and +silver plate of gorgeous richness; drinking cups and goblets of antique +pattern shone among cups of Sèvres china or Venetian glass; delicious +fruit, looking a thousand times more tempting for being contained in +baskets of silver foliage, peeped from amidst a profusion of fresh +flowers, whose odor was continually shed around by a slight <i>jet d’eau</i> +that played among the leaves. Around upon the grass, seated upon cushions +or reclining on Genoa carpets, were several beautiful girls in most +becoming costumes, their dark locks and darker eyes speaking of “the soft +South,” while their expressive gestures and animated looks betokened a +race whose temperament is glowing as their clime. There were several men +also, the greater number of whom appeared in uniform,—bronzed, +soldier-like fellows, who had the jaunty air and easy carriage of their +calling,—among whom was one Englishman, or at least so I guessed +from his wearing the uniform of a heavy dragoon regiment. +</p> +<p> +“This is my daughter’s <i>fête</i>,” said Don Emanuel, as he ushered me +into the assembly,—“her birthday; a sad day it might have been for +us had it not been for your courage and forethought.” So saying, he +commenced a recital of my adventure to the bystanders, who overwhelmed me +with civil speeches and a shower of soft looks that completed the +fascination of the fairy scene. Meanwhile the fair Inez had made room for +me beside her, and I found myself at once the lion of the party, each +vying with her neighbor who should show me most attention, La Senhora +herself directing her conversation exclusively to me,—a circumstance +which, considering the awkwardness of our first meeting, I felt no small +surprise at, and which led me, somewhat maliciously I confess, to make a +half allusion to it, feeling some interest in ascertaining for whom the +flattering reception was really intended. +</p> +<p> +“I thought you were Charles,” said she, blushing, in answer to my +question. +</p> +<p> +“And you are right,” said I; “I am Charles.” + </p> +<p> +“Nay, but I meant <i>my</i> Charles.” + </p> +<p> +There was something of touching softness in the tone of these few words +that made me half wish I were <i>her</i> Charles. Whether my look evinced +as much or not, I cannot tell, but she speedily added,— +</p> +<p> +“He is my brother; he is a captain in the caçadores, and I expected him +here this evening. Some one saw a figure pass the gate and conceal himself +in the trees, and I was sure it was he.” + </p> +<p> +“What a disappointment!” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; was it not?” said she, hurriedly; and then, as if remembering how +ungracious was the speech, she blushed more deeply and hung down her head. +</p> +<p> +Just at this moment, as I looked up, I caught the eye of the English +officer fixed steadfastly upon me. He was a tall, fine-looking fellow, of +about two or three and thirty, with marked and handsome features, which, +however, conveyed an expression of something sneering and sinister that +struck me the moment I saw him. His glass was fixed in his eye, and I +perceived that he regarded us both with a look of no common interest. My +attention did not, however, dwell long upon the circumstance, for Don +Emanuel, coming behind my shoulder, asked me if I would not take out his +daughter in the bolero they were just forming. +</p> +<p> +To my shame I was obliged to confess that I had not even seen the dance; +and while I continued to express my resolve to correct the errors of my +education, the Englishman came up and asked the senhora to be his partner. +This put the very keystone upon my annoyance, and I half turned angrily +away from the spot, when I heard her decline his invitation, and avow her +determination not to dance. +</p> +<p> +There was something which pleased me so much at this refusal, that I could +not help turning upon her a look of most grateful acknowledgment; but as I +did so, I once more encountered the gaze of the Englishman, whose knitted +brows and compressed lips were bent upon me in a manner there was no +mistaking. This was neither the fitting time nor place to seek any +explanation of the circumstance, so, wisely resolving to wait a better +occasion, I turned away and resumed my attentions towards my fair +companion. +</p> +<p> +“Then you don’t care for the bolero?” said I, as she reseated herself upon +the grass. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I delight in it!” said she, enthusiastically. +</p> +<p> +“But you refused to dance?” + </p> +<p> +She hesitated, blushed, tried to mutter something, and was silent. +</p> +<p> +“I had determined to learn it,” said I, half jestingly; “but if you will +not dance with me—” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; that I will,—indeed I will.” + </p> +<p> +“But you declined my countryman. Is it because he is inexpert?” + </p> +<p> +The senhora hesitated, looked confused for some minutes; at length, +coloring slightly, she said: “I have already made one rude speech to you +this evening; I fear lest I should make a second. Tell me, is Captain +Trevyllian your friend?” + </p> +<p> +“If you mean that gentleman yonder, I never saw him before.” + </p> +<p> +“Nor heard of him?” + </p> +<p> +“Nor that either. We are total strangers to each other.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, I may confess it. I do not like him. My father prefers him to +any one else, invites him here daily, and, in fact, instals him as his +first favorite. But still, I cannot like him; and yet I have done my best +to do so.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said I, pointedly. “What are his chief demerits? Is he not +agreeable? Is he not clever?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, on the contrary, most agreeable, fascinating, I should say, in +conversation; has travelled, seen a great deal of the world, is very +accomplished, and has distinguished himself on several occasions. He +wears, as you see, a Portuguese order.” + </p> +<p> +“And with all that—” + </p> +<p> +“And with all that, I cannot bear him. He is a duellist, a notorious +duellist. My brother, too, knows more of him, and avoids him. But let us +not speak further. I see his eyes are again fixed on us; and somehow, I +fear him, without well knowing wherefore.” + </p> +<p> +A movement among the party, shawls and mantillas were sought for on all +sides; and the preparations for leave-taking appeared general. Before, +however, I had time to express my thanks for my hospitable reception, the +guests had assembled in a circle around the senhora, and toasting her with +a parting bumper, they commenced in concert a little Portuguese song of +farewell, each verse concluding with a good-night, which, as they +separated and held their way homewards, might now and then be heard rising +upon the breeze and wafting their last thoughts back to her. The +concluding verse, which struck me much, I have essayed to translate. It +ran somehow thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“The morning breezes chill +Now close our joyous scene, +And yet we linger still, +Where we’ve so happy been. +How blest were it to live +With hearts like ours so light, +And only part to give +One long and last good-night! +Good-night!” + </pre> +<p> +With many an invitation to renew my visit, most kindly preferred by Don +Emanuel and warmly seconded by his daughter, I, too, wished my good-night +and turned my steps homeward. +</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> +THE VILLA. +</p> +<p> +The first object which presented itself to my eye the next morning was the +midshipman’s packet intrusted to my care by Power. I turned it over to +read the address more carefully, and what was my surprise to find that the +name was that of my fair friend Donna Inez. +</p> +<p> +“This certainly thickens the plot,” thought I. “And so I have now fallen +upon the real Simon Pure, and the reefer has had the good fortune to +distance the dragoon. Well, thus far, I cannot say that I regret it. Now, +however, for the parade, and then for the villa.” + </p> +<p> +“I say, O’Malley,” cried out Monsoon, as I appeared on the Plaza, “I have +accepted an invitation for you to-day. We dine across the river. Be at my +quarters a little before six, and we’ll go together.” + </p> +<p> +I should rather have declined the invitation; but not well knowing why, +and having no ready excuse, acceded, and promised to be punctual. +</p> +<p> +“You were at Don Emanuel’s last night. I heard of you!” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; I spent a most delightful evening.” + </p> +<p> +“That’s your ground, my boy. A million of moidores, and such a campagna in +Valencia. A better thing than the Dalrymple affair. Don’t blush. I know it +all. But stay; here they come.” + </p> +<p> +As he spoke, the general commanding, with a numerous staff, rode forward. +As they passed, I recognized a face which I had certainly seen before, and +in a moment remembered it was that of the dragoon of the evening before. +He passed quite close, and fixing his eyes steadfastly on me, evinced no +sign of recognition. +</p> +<p> +The parade lasted above two hours; and it was with a feeling of impatience +I mounted a fresh horse to canter out to the villa. When I arrived, the +servant informed me that Don Emanuel was in the city, but that the senhora +was in the garden, offering, at the same time, to escort me. Declining +this honor, I intrusted my horse to his keeping and took my way towards +the arbor where last I had seen her. +</p> +<p> +I had not walked many paces, when the sound of a guitar struck on my ear. +I listened. It was the senhora’s voice. She was singing a Venetian +canzonetta in a low, soft, warbling tone, as one lost in a revery; as +though the music was a mere accompaniment to some pleasant thought. I +peeped through the dense leaves, and there she sat upon a low garden seat, +an open book on the rustic table before her, beside her, embroidery, which +seemed only lately abandoned. As I looked, she placed her guitar upon the +ground and began to play with a small spaniel that seemed to have waited +with impatience for some testimony of favor. A moment more, and she grew +weary of this; then, heaving a long but gentle sigh, leaned back upon her +chair and seemed lost in thought. I now had ample time to regard her, and +certainly never beheld anything more lovely. There was a character of +classic beauty, and her brow, though fair and ample, was still strongly +marked upon the temples; the eyes, being deep and squarely set, imparted a +look of intensity to her features which their own softness subdued; while +the short upper lip, which trembled with every passing thought, spoke of a +nature tender and impressionable, and yet impassioned. Her foot and ankle +peeped from beneath her dark robe, and certainly nothing could be more +faultless; while her hand, fair as marble, blue-veined and dimpled, played +amidst the long tresses of her hair, that, as if in the wantonness of +beauty, fell carelessly upon her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +It was some time before I could tear myself away from the fascination of +so much beauty, and it needed no common effort to leave the spot. As I +made a short <i>détour</i> in the garden before approaching the arbor, she +saw me as I came forward, and kissing her hand gayly, made room for me +beside her. +</p> +<p> +“I have been fortunate in finding you alone, Senhora,” said I, as I seated +myself by her side, “for I am the bearer of a letter to you. How far it +may interest you, I know not, but to the writer’s feelings I am bound to +testify.” + </p> +<p> +“A letter to me? You jest, surely?” + </p> +<p> +“That I am in earnest, this will show,” said I, producing the packet. +</p> +<p> +She took it from my hands, turned it about and about, examined the seal; +while, half doubtingly, she said:— +</p> +<p> +“The name is mine; but still—” + </p> +<p> +“You fear to open it; is it not so? But after all, you need not be +surprised if it’s from Howard; that’s his name, I think.” + </p> +<p> +“Howard! from little Howard!” exclaimed she, enthusiastically; and tearing +open the letter, she pressed it to her lips, her eyes sparkling with +pleasure and her cheek glowing as she read. I watched her as she ran +rapidly over the lines; and I confess that, more than once, a pang of +discontent shot through my heart that the midshipman’s letter could call +up such interest,—not that I was in love with her myself, but yet, I +know not how it was, I had fancied her affections unengaged; and without +asking myself wherefore, I wished as much. +</p> +<p> +“Poor dear boy!” said she, as she came to the end. How these few and +simple words sank into my heart, as I remembered how they had once been +uttered to myself, and in perhaps no very dissimilar circumstances. +</p> +<p> +“But where is the souvenir he speaks of?” said she. +</p> +<p> +“The souvenir. I’m not aware—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I hope you’ve not lost the lock of hair he sent me!” I was quite +dumfounded at this, and could not remember whether I had received it from +Power or not, so answered, at random,— +</p> +<p> +“Yes; I must have left it on my table.” + </p> +<p> +“Promise me, then, to bring it to-morrow with you?” + </p> +<p> +“Certainly,” said I, with something of pique in my manner. “If I find such +a means of making my visit an agreeable one, I shall certainly not omit +it.” + </p> +<p> +“You are quite right,” said she, either not noticing or not caring for the +tone of my reply. “You will, indeed, be a welcome messenger. Do you know, +he was one of my lovers?” + </p> +<p> +“One of them, indeed! Then pray how many do you number at this moment?” + </p> +<p> +“What a question; as if I could possibly count them! Besides, there are so +many absent,—some on leave, some deserters, perhaps,—that I +might be reckoning among my troops, but who, possibly, form part of the +forces of the enemy. Do you know little Howard?” + </p> +<p> +“I cannot say that we are personally acquainted, but I am enabled through +the medium of a friend to say that his sentiments are not strange to me. +Besides, I have really pledged myself to support the prayer of his +petition.” + </p> +<p> +“How very good of you! For which reason you’ve forgotten, if not lost, the +lock of hair.” + </p> +<p> +“That you shall have to-morrow,” said I, pressing my hand solemnly to my +heart. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, don’t forget it. But hush; here comes Captain Trevyllian. So +you say Lisbon really pleases you?” said she, in a tone of voice totally +changed, as the dragoon of the preceding evening approached. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. O’Malley, Captain Trevyllian.” + </p> +<p> +We bowed stiffly and haughtily to each other, as two men salute who are +unavoidably obliged to bow, with every wish on either side to avoid +acquaintance. So, at least, I construed his bow; so I certainly intended +my own. +</p> +<p> +It requires no common tact to give conversation the appearance of +unconstraint and ease when it is evident that each person opposite is +laboring under excited feelings; so that, notwithstanding the senhora’s +efforts to engage our attention by the commonplaces of the day, we +remained almost silent, and after a few observations of no interest, took +our several leaves. Here again a new source of awkwardness arose; for as +we walked together towards the house, where our horses stood, neither +party seemed disposed to speak. +</p> +<p> +“You are probably returning to Lisbon?” said he, coldly. +</p> +<p> +I assented by a bow; upon which, drawing his bridle within his arm, he +bowed once more, and turned away in an opposite direction; while I, glad +to be relieved of an unsought-for companionship, returned alone to the +town. +</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 DINNER. +</p> +<p> +It was with no peculiar pleasure that I dressed for our dinner party. +Major O’Shaughnessy, our host, was one of that class of my countrymen I +cared least for,—a riotous, good-natured, noisy, loud-swearing, +punch-drinking western; full of stories of impossible fox hunts, and +unimaginable duels, which all were acted either by himself or some member +of his family. The company consisted of the adjutant, Monsoon, Ferguson, +Trevyllian, and some eight or ten officers with whom I was acquainted. As +is usual on such occasions, the wine circulated freely, and amidst the din +and clamor of excited conversation, the fumes of Burgundy, and the vapor +of cigar smoke, we most of us became speedily mystified. As for me, my +evil destiny would have it that I was placed exactly opposite Trevyllian, +with whom upon more than one occasion I happened to differ in opinion, and +the question was in itself some trivial and unimportant one; yet the tone +which he assumed, and of which, I too could not divest myself in reply, +boded anything rather than an amicable feeling between us. The noise and +turmoil about prevented the others remarking the circumstance; but I could +perceive in his manner what I deemed a studied determination to promote a +quarrel, while I felt within myself a most unchristian-like desire to +indulge his fancy. +</p> +<p> +“Worse fellows at passing the bottle than Trevyllian and O’Malley there I +have rarely sojourned with,” cried the major; “look if they haven’t got +eight decanters between them, and here we are in a state of African +thirst.” + </p> +<p> +“How can you expect him to think of thirst when such perfumed billets as +that come showering upon him?” said the adjutant, alluding to a +rose-colored epistle a servant had placed within my hands. +</p> +<p> +“Eight miles of a stone-wall country in fifteen minutes,—devil a lie +in it!” said O’Shaughnessy, striking the table with, his clinched fist; +“show me the man would deny it.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, my dear fellow—” + </p> +<p> +“Don’t be dearing me. Is it ‘no’ you’ll be saying me?” + </p> +<p> +“Listen, now; there’s O’Reilly, there—” + </p> +<p> +“Where is he?” + </p> +<p> +“He’s under the table.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, it’s the same thing. His mother had a fox—bad luck to you, +don’t scald me with the jug—his mother had a fox-cover in +Shinrohan.” + </p> +<p> +When O’Shaughnessy had got thus far in his narrative, I had the +opportunity of opening my note, which merely contained the following +words: “Come to the ball at the Casino, and bring the Cadeau you +promised.” + </p> +<p> +I had scarcely read this over once, when a roar of laughter at something +said attracted my attention. I looked up, and perceived Trevyllian’s eyes +bent upon me with the fierceness of a tiger; the veins in his forehead +were swollen and distorted, and the whole expression of his face betokened +rage and passion. Resolved no longer to submit to such evident +determination to insult, I was rising from my place at table, when, as if +anticipating my intention, he pushed back his chair and left the room. +Fearful of attracting attention by immediately following him, I affected +to join in the conversation around me, while my temples throbbed, and my +hands tingled with impatience to get away. +</p> +<p> +“Poor McManus,” said O’Shaughnessy, “rest his soul! he’d have puzzled the +bench of bishops for hard words. Upon my conscience, I believe he spent +his mornings looking for them in the Old Testament. Sure ye might have +heard what happened to him at Banagher, when he commanded the Kilkennys,—ye +never heard the story? Well, then, ye shall. Push the sherry along first, +though,—old Monsoon there always keeps it lingering beside his left +arm. +</p> +<p> +“Well, when Peter was lieutenant-colonel of the Kilkennys,—who, I +may remark, <i>en passant</i>, as the French say, were the +neediest-looking devils in the whole service,—he never let them +alone from morning till night, drilling and pipe-claying and polishing +them up. ‘Nothing will make soldiers of you,’ said Peter, ‘but, by the +rock of Cashel! I’ll keep you as clean as a new musket!’ Now, poor Peter +himself was not a very warlike figure,—he measured five feet one in +his tallest boots; but certainly if Nature denied him length of stature, +she compensated for it in another way, by giving him a taste of the +longest words in the language. An extra syllable or so in a word was +always a strong recommendation; and whenever he could not find one to his +mind, he’d take some quaint, outlandish one that more than once led to +very awkward results. Well, the regiment was one day drawn up for parade +in the town of Banagher, and as M’Manus came down the lines he stopped +opposite one of the men whose face, hands, and accoutrements exhibited a +most woeful contempt of his orders. The fellow looked more like a +turf-stack than a light-company man. +</p> +<p> +“‘Stand out, sir!’ cried M’Manus, in a boiling passion. ‘Sergeant O’Toole, +inspect this individual.’ Now, the sergeant was rather a favorite with +Mac; for he always pretended to understand his phraseology, and in +consequence was pronounced by the colonel a very superior man for his +station in life. ‘Sergeant,’ said he, ‘we shall make an exemplary +illustration of our system here.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, sir,’ said the sergeant, sorely puzzled at the meaning of what he +spoke. +</p> +<p> +“‘Bear him to the Shannon, and lave him there.’ This he said in a kind of +Coriolanus tone, with a toss of his head and a wave of his right arm,—signs, +whenever he made them, incontestibly showing that further parley was out +of the question, and that he had summed up and charged the jury for good +and all. +</p> +<p> +“‘<i>Lave</i> him in the river?’ said O’Toole, his eyes starting from the +sockets, and his whole face working in strong anxiety; ‘is it <i>lave</i> +him in the river yer honor means?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I have spoken,’ said the little man, bending an ominous frown upon the +sergeant, which, whatever construction he may have put upon his words, +there was no mistaking. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, well, av it’s God’s will he’s drowned, it will not be on my head,’ +says O’Toole, as he marched the fellow away between two rank and file. +</p> +<p> +“The parade was nearly over, when Mac happened to see the sergeant coming +up all splashed with water and looking quite tired. +</p> +<p> +“‘Have you obeyed my orders?’ said he. +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, yer honor; and tough work we had of it, for he struggled hard.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And where is he now?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, troth, he’s there safe. Divil a fear he’ll get out.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Where?’ said Mac. +</p> +<p> +“‘In the river, yer honor.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What have you done, you scoundrel?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Didn’t I do as you bid me?’ says he; ‘didn’t I throw him in and <i>lave</i> +[leave] him there?’ +</p> +<p> +“And faith so they did; and if he wasn’t a good swimmer and got over to +Moystown, there’s little doubt but he’d have been drowned, and all because +Peter McManus could not express himself like a Christian.” + </p> +<p> +In the laughter which followed O’Shaughnessy’s story I took the +opportunity of making my escape from the party, and succeeded in gaining +the street unobserved. Though the note I had just read was not signed, I +had no doubt from whom it came; so I hastened at once to my quarters, to +make search for the lock of Ned Howard’s hair to which the senhora +alluded. What was my mortification, however, to discover that no such +thing could be found anywhere. I searched all my drawers; I tossed about +my papers and letters; I hunted every likely, every unlikely spot I could +think of, but in vain,—now cursing my carelessness for having lost +it, now swearing most solemnly to myself that I never could have received +it. What was to be done? It was already late; my only thought was how to +replace it. If I only knew the color, any other lock of hair would, +doubtless, do just as well. The chances were, as Howard was young and an +Englishman, that his hair was light; light-brown, probably, something like +my own. Of course it was; why didn’t that thought occur to me before? How +stupid I was. So saying, I seized a pair of scissors, and cut a long lock +beside my temple; this in a calm moment I might have hesitated about. +“Yes,” thought I, “she’ll never discover the cheat; and besides, I do +feel,—I know not exactly why,—rather gratified to think that I +shall have left this <i>souvenir</i> behind me, even though it call up +other recollections than of me.” So thinking, I wrapped my cloak about me +and hastened towards the Casino. +</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> +THE ROUTE. +</p> +<p> +I had scarcely gone a hundred yards from my quarters when a great tramp of +horses’ feet attracted my attention. I stopped to listen, and soon heard +the jingle of dragoon accoutrements, as the noise came near. The night was +dark but perfectly still; and before I stood many minutes I heard the +tones of a voice which I well knew could belong to but one, and that Fred +Power. +</p> +<p> +“Fred Power!” said I, shouting at the same time at the top of my voice,—“Power!” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, Charley, is that you? Come along to the adjutant-general’s quarters. +I’m charged with some important despatches, and can’t stop till I’ve +delivered them. Come along, I’ve glorious news for you!” So saying, he +dashed spurs to his horse, and followed by two mounted dragoons, galloped +past. Power’s few and hurried words had so excited my curiosity that I +turned at once to follow him, questioning myself, as I walked along, to +what he could possibly allude. He knew of my attachment to Lucy Dashwood,—could +he mean anything of her? But what could I expect there; by what flattery +could I picture to myself any chance of success in that quarter; and yet, +what other news could I care for or value than what bore upon her fate +upon whom my own depended? Thus ruminating, I reached the door of the +spacious building in which the adjutant-general had taken up his abode, +and soon found myself among a crowd of persons whom the rumor of some +important event had assembled there, though no one could tell what had +occurred. Before many minutes the door opened, and Power came out; bowing +hurriedly to a few, and whispering a word or two as he passed down the +steps, he seized me by the arm and led me across the street. “Charley,” + said he, “the curtain’s rising; the piece is about to begin; a new +commander-in-chief is sent out,—Sir Arthur Wellesley, my boy, the +finest fellow in England is to lead us on, and we march to-morrow. There’s +news for you!” A raw boy, unread, uninformed as I was, I knew but little +of his career whose name had even then shed such lustre upon our army; but +the buoyant tone of Power as he spoke, the kindling energy of his voice +roused me, and I felt every inch a soldier. As I grasped his hand in +delightful enthusiasm I lost all memory of my disappointment, and in the +beating throb that shook my head; I felt how deeply slept the ardor of +military glory that first led me from my home to see a battle-field. +</p> +<p> +“There goes the news!” said Frederick, pointing as he spoke to a rocket +that shot up into the sky, and as it broke into ten thousand stars, +illuminated the broad stream where the ships of war lay darkly resting. In +another moment the whole air shone with similar fires, while the deep roll +of the drum sounded along the silent streets, and the city so lately sunk +in sleep became, as if by magic, thronged with crowds of people; the sharp +clang of the cavalry trumpet blended with the gay carol of the +light-infantry bugle, and the heavy tramp of the march was heard in the +distance. All was excitement, all bustle; but in the joyous tone of every +voice was spoken the longing anxiety to meet the enemy. The gay, reckless +tone of an Irish song would occasionally reach us, as some Connaught +Ranger or some 78th man passed, his knapsack on his back; or the low +monotonous pibroch of the Highlander, swelling into a war-cry, as some +kilted corps drew up their ranks together. We turned to regain our +quarters, when at the corner of a street we came suddenly upon a merry +party seated around a table before a little inn; a large street lamp, +unhung for the occasion, had been placed in the midst of them, and showed +us the figures of several soldiers in undress; at the end, and raised a +little above his compeers, sat one whom, by the unfair proportion he +assumed of the conversation, not less than by the musical intonation of +his voice, I soon recognized as my man, Mickey Free. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be hanged if that’s not your fellow there, Charley,” said Power, as +he came to a dead stop a few yards off. “What an impertinent varlet he is; +only to think of him there, presiding among a set of fellows that have +fought all the battles in the Peninsular war. At this moment I’ll be +hanged if he is not going to sing.” + </p> +<p> +Here a tremendous thumping upon the table announced the fact, and after a +few preliminary observations from Mike, illustrative of his respect to the +service in which he had so often distinguished himself, he began, to the +air of the “Young May Moon,” a ditty of which I only recollect the +following verses:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“The pickets are fast retreating, boys, +The last tattoo is beating, boys, +So let every man +Finish his can, +And drink to our next merry meeting, boys. + +The colonel so gayly prancing, boys, +Has a wonderful trick of advancing, boys, +When he sings out so large, +‘Fix bayonets and charge!’ +He sets all the Frenchmen a-dancing, boys. + +Let Mounseer look ever so big, my boys, +Who cares for fighting a fig, my boys? +When we play ‘Garryowen,’ +He’d rather go home; +For somehow, he’s no taste for a jig, my boys.” + </pre> +<p> +This admirable lyric seemed to have perfect success, if one were only to +judge from the thundering of voices, hands, and drinking vessels which +followed; while a venerable, gray-haired sergeant rose to propose Mr. +Free’s health, and speedy promotion to him. +</p> +<p> +We stood for several minutes in admiration of the party, when the loud +roll of the drums beating to arms awakened us to the thought that our +moments were numbered. +</p> +<p> +“Good-night, Charley!” said Power, as he shook my hand warmly, +“good-night! It will be your last night under a curtain for some months to +come; make the most of it. Adieu!” + </p> +<p> +So saying, we parted; he to his quarters, and I to all the confusion of my +baggage, which lay in most admired disorder about my room. +</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 FAREWELL. +</p> +<p> +The preparations for the march occupied me till near morning; and, indeed, +had I been disposed to sleep, the din and clamor of the world without +would have totally prevented it. Before daybreak the advanced guard was +already in motion, and some squadrons of heavy cavalry had begun their +march. +</p> +<p> +I looked around my now dismantled room as one does usually for the last +time ere leaving, and bethought me if I had not forgotten anything. +Apparently all was remembered; but stay,—what is this? To be sure, +how forgetful I had become! It was the packet I destined for Donna Inez, +and which, in the confusion of the night before, I had omitted to bring to +the Casino. +</p> +<p> +I immediately despatched Mike to the commissary with my luggage and orders +to ascertain when we were expected to march. He soon returned with the +intelligence that our corps was not to move before noon, so that I had yet +some hours to spare and make my adieux to the senhora. +</p> +<p> +I cannot exactly explain the reason, but I certainly did bestow a more +than common attention upon my toilet that morning. The senhora was nothing +to me. It is true she had, as she lately most candidly informed me, a +score of admirers, among whom I was not even reckoned; she was evidently a +coquette whose greatest pleasure was to sport and amuse herself with the +passions she excited in others. And even if she were not,—if her +heart were to be won to-morrow,—what claim, what right, had I to +seek it? My affections were already pledged; promised, it is true, to one +who gave nothing in return, and who, perhaps, even loved another. Ah, +there was the rub; that one confounded suspicion, lurking in the rear, +chilled my courage and wounded my spirit. +</p> +<p> +If there be anything more disheartening to an Irishman, in his little <i>affaires +de coeur</i>, than another, it is the sense of rivalry. The obstinacy of +fathers, the ill-will of mothers, the coldness, the indifference of the +lovely object herself,—obstacles though they be,—he has tact, +spirit, and perseverance to overcome them. But when a more successful +candidate for the fair presents himself; when the eye that remains +downcast at <i>his</i> suit, lights up with animation at <i>another’s</i> +coming; when the features whose cold and chilling apathy to him have +blended in one smile of welcome to another,—it is all up with him; +he sees the game lost, and throws his cards upon the table. And yet, why +is this? Why is it that he whose birthright it would seem to be sanguine +when others despond, to be confident when all else are hopeless,—should +find his courage fail him here? The reason is simply—But, in good +sooth, I am ashamed to confess it! +</p> +<p> +Having jogged on so far with my reader, in all the sober seriousness which +the matter-of-fact material of these memoirs demands, I fear lest a +seeming paradox may cause me to lose my good name for veracity; and that +while merely maintaining a national trait of my country, I may appear to +be asserting some unheard-of and absurd proposition,—so far have +mere vulgar prejudices gone to sap our character as a people. +</p> +<p> +The reason, then, is this,—for I have gone too far to retreat,—the +Irishman is essentially bashful. Well, laugh if you wish, for I conclude +that, by this time, you have given way to a most immoderate excess of +risibility; but still, when you have perfectly recovered your composure, I +beg to repeat,—the Irishman is essentially a bashful man! +</p> +<p> +Do not for a moment fancy that I would by this imply that in any new or +unexpected situation, that from any unforeseen conjuncture of events, the +Irishman would feel confused or abashed, more than any other,—far +from it. The cold and habitual reserve of the Englishman, the studied +caution of the North Tweeder himself, would exhibit far stronger evidences +of awkwardness in such circumstances as these. But on the other hand, when +measuring his capacity, his means of success, his probabilities of being +preferred, with those of the natives of any other country, I back the +Irishman against the world for distrust of his own powers, for an +under-estimate of his real merits,—in one word, for his bashfulness. +But let us return to Donna Inez. +</p> +<p> +As I rode up to the villa, I found the family assembled at breakfast. +Several officers were also present, among whom I was not sorry to +recognize my friend Monsoon. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Charley!” cried he, as I seated myself beside him, “what a pity all +our fun is so soon to have an end! Here’s this confounded Soult won’t be +quiet and peaceable; but he must march upon Oporto, and Heaven knows where +besides, just as we were really beginning to enjoy life! I had got such a +contract for blankets! And now they’ve ordered me to join Beresford’s +corps in the mountains; and you,” here he dropped his voice,—“and +you were getting on so devilish well in this quarter; upon my life, I +think you’d have carried the day. Old Don Emanuel—you know he’s a +friend of mine—likes you very much. And then, there’s Sparks—” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, Major, what of him? I have not seen him for some days.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, they’ve been frightening the poor devil out of his life, +O’Shaughnessy and a set of them. They tried him by court-martial +yesterday, and sentenced him to mount guard with a wooden sword and a +shooting jacket, which he did. Old Colbourne, it seems, saw him; and +faith, there would be the devil to pay if the route had not come! Some of +them would certainly have got a long leave to see their friends.” + </p> +<p> +“Why is not the senhora here, Major? I don’t see her at table.” + </p> +<p> +“A cold, a sore throat, a wet-feet affair of last night, I believe. Pass +that cold pie down here. Sherry, if you please. You didn’t see Power +to-day?” + </p> +<p> +“No: we parted late last night; I have not been to bed.” + </p> +<p> +“Very bad preparation for a march; take some burned brandy in your +coffee.” + </p> +<p> +“Then you don’t think the senhora will appear?” + </p> +<p> +“Very unlikely. But stay, you know her room,—the small drawing-room +that looks out upon the flower-garden; she usually passes the morning +there. Leap the little wooden paling round the corner, and the chances are +ten to one you find her.” + </p> +<p> +I saw from the occupied air of Don Antonio that there was little fear of +interruption on his part; so taking an early moment to escape unobserved, +I rose and left the room. When I sprang over the oak fence, I found myself +in a delicious little garden, where roses, grown to a height never seen in +our colder climate, formed a deep bower of rich blossom. +</p> +<p> +The major was right. The senhora was in the room, and in one moment I was +beside her. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing but my fears of not bidding you farewell could palliate my thus +intruding, Donna Inez; but as we are ordered away—” + </p> +<p> +“When? Not so soon, surely?” + </p> +<p> +“Even so; to-day, this very hour. But you see that even in the hurry of +departure, I have not forgotten my trust; this is the packet I promised +you.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, I placed the paper with the lock of hair within her hand, and +bending downwards, pressed my lips upon her taper fingers. She hurriedly +snatched her hand away, and tearing open the enclosure, took out the lock. +She looked steadily for a moment at it, then at me, and again at it, and +at length, bursting into a fit of laughing, threw herself upon a chair in +a very ecstasy of mirth. +</p> +<p> +“Why, you don’t mean to impose this auburn ringlet upon me for one of poor +Howard’s jetty curls? What downright folly to think of it! And then, with +how little taste the deception was practised,—upon your very +temples, too! One comfort is, you are utterly spoiled by it.” + </p> +<p> +Here she again relapsed into a fit of laughter, leaving me perfectly +puzzled what to think of her, as she resumed:— +</p> +<p> +“Well, tell me now, am I to reckon this as a pledge of your own +allegiance, or am I still to believe it to be Edward Howard’s? Speak, and +truly.” + </p> +<p> +“Of my own, most certainly,” said I, “if it will be accepted.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, after such treachery, perhaps it ought not; but still, as you have +already done yourself such injury, and look so very silly, withal—” + </p> +<p> +“That you are even resolved to give me cause to look more so,” added I. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly,” said she, “for here, now, I reinstate you among my true and +faithful admirers. Kneel down, Sir Knight—in token of which you will +wear this scarf—” + </p> +<p> +A sudden start which the donna gave at these words brought me to my feet. +She was pale as death and trembling. +</p> +<p> +“What means this?” said I. “What has happened?” + </p> +<p> +She pointed with her finger towards the garden; but though her lips moved, +no voice came forth. I sprang through the open window; I rushed into the +copse, the only one which might afford concealment for a figure, but no +one was there. After a few minutes’ vain endeavor to discover any trace of +an intruder, I returned to the chamber. The donna was there still, but how +changed; her gayety and animation were gone, her pale cheek and trembling +lip bespoke fear and suffering, and her cold hand lay heavily beside her. +</p> +<p> +“I thought—perhaps it was merely fancy—but I thought I saw +Trevyllian beside the window.” + </p> +<p> +“Impossible!” said I. “I have searched every walk and alley. It was +nothing but imagination,—believe me, no more. There, be assured; +think no more of it.” + </p> +<p> +While I endeavored thus to reassure her, I was very far from feeling +perfectly at ease myself; the whole bearing and conduct of this man had +inspired me with a growing dislike of him, and I felt already +half-convinced that he had established himself as a spy upon my actions. +</p> +<p> +“Then you really believe I was mistaken?” said the donna, as she placed +her hand within mine. +</p> +<p> +“Of course I do; but speak no more of it. You must not forget how few my +moments are here. Already I have heard the tramp of horses without. Ah! +there they are. In a moment more I shall be missed; so, once more, fairest +Inez—Nay, I beg pardon if I have dared to call you thus; but think, +if it be the first it may also be the last time I shall ever speak it.” + </p> +<p> +Her head gently drooped, as I said these words, till it sank upon my +shoulder, her long and heavy hair falling upon my neck and across my +bosom. I felt her heart almost beat against my side; I muttered some +words, I know not what; I felt them like a prayer; I pressed her cold +forehead to my lips, rushed from the room, cleared the fence at a spring, +and was far upon the road to Lisbon ere I could sufficiently collect my +senses to know whither I was going. Of little else was I conscious; my +mind was full to bursting; and in the confusion of my excited brain, +fiction and reality were so inextricably mingled as to defy every endeavor +at discrimination. But little time had I for reflection. As I reached the +city, the brigade to which I was attached was already under arms, and Mike +impatiently waiting my arrival with the horses. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXLIII. +</h2> +<p> +THE MARCH. +</p> +<p> +What a strange spectacle did the road to Oliveira present upon the morning +of the 7th of May! A hurried or incautious observer might, at first sight, +have pronounced the long line of troops which wended their way through the +valley as the remains of a broken and routed army, had not the ardent +expression and bright eye that beamed on every side assured him that men +who looked thus could not be beaten ones. Horse, foot, baggage, artillery, +dismounted dragoons, even the pale and scarcely recovered inhabitants of +the hospital, might have been seen hurrying on; for the order, “Forward!” + had been given at Lisbon, and those whose wounds did not permit their +joining, were more pitied for their loss than its cause. More than one +officer was seen at the head of his troop with an arm in a sling, or a +bandaged forehead; while among the men similar evidences of devotion were +not unfrequent. As for me, long years and many reverses have not +obliterated, scarcely blunted, the impression that sight made on me. The +splendid spectacle of a review had often excited and delighted me, but +here there was the glorious reality of war,—the bronzed faces, the +worn uniforms, the well-tattered flags, the roll of the heavy guns +mingling with the wild pibroch of the Highlander, or scarcely less wild +recklessness of the Irish quick-step; while the long line of cavalry, +their helmets and accoutrements shining in the morning sun, brought back +one’s boyish dreams of joust and tournament, and made the heart beat high +with chivalrous enthusiasm. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, half aloud, “this is indeed a realization of what I longed +and thirsted for,” the clang of the music and the tramp of the cavalry +responding to my throbbing pulses as we moved along. +</p> +<p> +“Close up, there; trot!” cried out a deep and manly voice; and immediately +a general officer rode by, followed by an aide-de-camp. +</p> +<p> +“There goes Cotton,” said Power. “You may feel easy in your mind now, +Charley; there’s some work before us.” + </p> +<p> +“You have not heard our destination?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing is known for certain yet. The report goes, that Soult is +advancing upon Oporto; and the chances are, Sir Arthur intends to hasten +on to its relief. Our fellows are at Ovar, with General Murray.” + </p> +<p> +“I say, Charley, old Monsoon is in a devil of a flurry. He expected to +have been peaceably settled down in Lisbon for the next six months, and he +has received orders to set out for Beresford’s headquarters immediately; +and from what I hear, they have no idle time.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, Sparks, how goes it, man? Better fun this than the cook’s galley, +eh?” + </p> +<p> +“Why, do you know, these hurried movements put me out confoundedly. I +found Lisbon very interesting,—the little I could see of it last +night.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, my dear fellow, think of the lovely Andalusian lasses with their +brown transparent skins and liquid eyes. Why, you’d have been over head +and ears in love in twenty-four hours more, had we stayed.” + </p> +<p> +“Are they really so pretty?” + </p> +<p> +“Pretty! downright lovely, man. Why, they have a way of looking at you, +over their fans,—just one glance, short and fleeting, but so +melting, by Jove—Then their walk,—if it be not profane to call +that springing, elastic gesture by such a name,—why, it’s regular +witchcraft. Sparks, my man, I tremble for you. Do you know, by-the-bye, +that same pace of theirs is a devilish hard thing to learn. I never could +come it; and yet, somehow, I was formerly rather a crack fellow at a +ballet. Old Alberto used to select me for a <i>pas de zéphyr</i> among a +host; but there’s a kind of a hop and a slide and a spring,—in fact +you must have been wearing petticoats for eighteen years, and have an +Andalusian instep and an india-rubber sole to your foot, or it’s no use +trying it. How I used to make them laugh at the old San Josef convent, +formerly, by my efforts in the cause!” + </p> +<p> +“Why, how did it ever occur to you to practise it?” + </p> +<p> +“Many a man’s legs have saved his head, Charley, and I put it to mine to +do a similar office for me.” + </p> +<p> +“True; but I never heard of a man that performed a <i>pas seul</i> before +the enemy.” + </p> +<p> +“Not exactly; but still you’re not very wide of the mark. If you’ll only +wait till we reach Pontalegue, I’ll tell you the story; not that it’s +worth the delay, but talking at this brisk pace I don’t admire.” + </p> +<p> +“You leave a detachment here, Captain Power,” said an aide-de-camp, riding +hastily up; “and General Cotton requests you will send a subaltern and two +sergeants forward towards Berar to reconnoitre the pass. Franchesca’s +cavalry are reported in that quarter.” So speaking, he dashed spurs to his +horse, and was out of sight in an instant. +</p> +<p> +Power, at the same moment, wheeled to the rear, from which he returned in +an instant, accompanied by three well-mounted light dragoons. “Sparks,” + said he, “now for an occasion of distinguishing yourself. You heard the +order, lose no time; and as your horse is an able one, and fresh, lose not +a second, but forward.” + </p> +<p> +No sooner was Sparks despatched on what it was evident he felt to be +anything but a pleasant duty, than I turned towards Power, and said, with +some tinge of disappointment in the tone, “Well, if you really felt there +was anything worth doing there, I flattered myself that—” + </p> +<p> +“Speak out man. That I should have sent you, eh? Is it not so?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, you’ve hit it.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, Charley, my peace is easily made on this head. Why, I selected +Sparks simply to spare you one of the most unpleasant duties that can be +imposed upon a man; a duty which, let him discharge it to the uttermost, +will never be acknowledged, and the slightest failure in which will be +remembered for many a day against him, besides the pleasant and very +probable prospect of being selected as a bull’s eye for a French rifle, or +carried off a prisoner; eh, Charley? There’s no glory in that, devil a ray +of it! Come, come, old fellow, Fred Power’s not the man to keep his friend +out of the <i>mêlée</i>, if only anything can be made by being in it. Poor +Sparks, I’d swear, is as little satisfied with the arrangement as +yourself, if one knew but all.” + </p> +<p> +“I say, Power,” said a tall, dashing-looking man of about five-and-forty, +with a Portuguese order on his breast,—“I say, Power, dine with us +at the halt.” + </p> +<p> +“With pleasure, if I may bring my young friend here.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course; pray introduce us.” + </p> +<p> +“Major Hixley, Mr. O’Malley,—a 14th man, Hixley.” + </p> +<p> +“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. O’Malley. Knew a famous fellow +in Ireland of your name, a certain Godfrey O’Malley, member for some +county or other.” + </p> +<p> +“My uncle,” said I, blushing deeply, with a pleasurable feeling at even +this slight praise of my oldest friend. +</p> +<p> +“Your uncle! give me your hand. By Jove, his nephew has a right to good +treatment at my hands; he saved my life in the year ‘98. And how is old +Godfrey?” + </p> +<p> +“Quite well, when I left him some months ago; a little gout, now and +then.” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure he has, no man deserves it better; but it’s a gentlemanlike +gout that merely jogs his memory in the morning of the good wine he has +drank over night. By-the-bye, what became of a friend of his, a devilish +eccentric fellow who held a command in the Austrian service?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Considine, the count?” + </p> +<p> +“The same.” + </p> +<p> +“As eccentric as ever; I left him on a visit with my uncle. And Boyle,—did +you know Sir Harry Boyle?” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure I did; shall I ever forget him, and his capital blunders, that +kept me laughing the whole time I spent in Ireland? I was in the house +when he concluded a panegyric upon a friend, by calling him, ‘the father +to the poor, and uncle to Lord Donoughmore.’” + </p> +<p> +“He was the only man who could render by a bull what it was impossible to +convey more correctly,” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve heard of his duel with Dick Toler?” + </p> +<p> +“Never; let’s hear it.” + </p> +<p> +“It was a bull from beginning to end. Boyle took it into his head that +Dick was a person with whom he had a serious row in Cork. Dick, on the +other hand, mistook Boyle for old Caples, whom he had been pursuing with +horse-whipping intentions for some months. They met in Kildare Street +Club, and very little colloquy satisfied them that they were right in +their conjectures, each party being so eagerly ready to meet the views of +the other. It never was a difficult matter to find a friend in Dublin; and +to do them justice, Irish seconds, generally speaking, are perfectly free +from any imputation upon the score of mere delay. No men have less +impertinent curiosity as to the cause of the quarrel; wisely supposing +that the principals know their own affairs best, they cautiously abstain +from indulging any prying spirit, but proceed to discharge their functions +as best they may. Accordingly, Sir Harry and Dick were ‘set up,’ as the +phrase is, at twelve paces, and to use Boyle’s own words, for I have heard +him relate the story,— +</p> +<p> +“We blazed away, sir, for three rounds. I put two in his hat and one in +his neckcloth; his shots went all through the skirt of my coat. +</p> +<p> +“‘We’ll spend the day here,’ says Considine, ‘at this rate. Couldn’t you +put them closer?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And give us a little more time in the word,’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Exactly,’ said Dick. +</p> +<p> +“Well, they moved us forward two paces, and set to loading the pistols +again. +</p> +<p> +“By this time we were so near that we had full opportunity to scan each +other’s faces. Well, sir, I stared at him, and he at me. +</p> +<p> +“‘What!’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Eh!’ said he. +</p> +<p> +“‘How’s this?’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“‘You’re not Billy Caples?’ said he. +</p> +<p> +“‘Devil a bit!’ said I, ‘nor I don’t think you are Archy Devine;’ and +faith, sir, so it appeared, we were fighting away all the morning for +nothing; for, somehow, it turned out <i>it was neither of us!</i>” + </p> +<p> +What amused me most in this anecdote was the hearing it at such a time and +place. That poor Sir Harry’s eccentricities should turn up for discussion +on a march in Portugal was singular enough; but after all, life is full of +such incongruous accidents. I remember once supping with King Calzoo on +the Blue Mountains, in Jamaica. By way of entertaining his guests, some +English officers, he ordered one of his suite to sing. We were of course +pleased at the opportunity of hearing an Indian war-chant, with a skull +and thigh-bone accompaniment; but what was our astonishment to hear the +Indian,—a ferocious-looking dog, with an awful scalp-lock, and two +streaks of red paint across his chest,—clear his voice well for a +few seconds, and then begin, without discomposing a muscle of his gravity, +“The Laird of Cockpen!” I need not say that the “Great Raccoon” was a +Dumfries man who had quitted Scotland forty years before, and with +characteristic prosperity had attained his present rank in a foreign +service. +</p> +<p> +“Halt! halt!” cried a deep-toned, manly voice in the leading column, and +the word was repeated from mouth to mouth to the rear. +</p> +<p> +We dismounted, and picketing our horses beneath the broad-leaved foliage +of the cork-trees, stretched ourselves out at full length upon the grass, +while our messmen prepared the dinner. Our party at first consisted of +Hixley, Power, the adjutant, and myself; but our number was soon increased +by three officers of the 6th Foot, about to join their regiment. +</p> +<p> +“Barring the ladies, God bless them!” said Power, “there are no such +picnics as campaigning presents. The charms of scenery are greatly +enhanced by their coming unexpectedly on you. Your chance good fortune in +the prog has an interest that no ham-and-cold-chicken affair, prepared by +your servants beforehand, and got ready with a degree of fuss and worry +that converts the whole party into an assembly of cooks, can ever afford; +and lastly, the excitement that this same life of ours is never without, +gives a zest—” + </p> +<p> +“There you’ve hit it,” cried Hixley; “it’s that same feeling of +uncertainty that those who meet now may ever do so again, full as it is of +sorrowful reflection, that still teaches us, as we become inured to war, +to economize our pleasures, and be happy when we may. Your health, +O’Malley, and your uncle Godfrey’s too.” + </p> +<p> +“A little more of the pastry.” + </p> +<p> +“What a capital guinea fowl this is!” + </p> +<p> +“That’s some of old Monsoon’s particular port.” + </p> +<p> +“Pass it round here. Really this is pleasant.” + </p> +<p> +“My blessing on the man who left that vista yonder! See what a glorious +valley stretches out there, undulating in its richness; and look at those +dark trees, where just one streak of soft sunlight is kissing their tops, +giving them one chaste good-night—” + </p> +<p> +“Well done, Power!” + </p> +<p> +“Confound you, you’ve pulled me short, and I was about becoming downright +pastoral. Apropos of kissing, I understand Sir Arthur won’t allow the +convents to be occupied by troops.” + </p> +<p> +“And apropos of convents,” said I, “let’s hear your story; you promised it +a while ago.” + </p> +<p> +“My dear Charley, it’s far too early in the evening for a story. I should +rather indulge my poetic fancies here, under the shade of melancholy +boughs; and besides, I am not half screwed up yet.” + </p> +<p> +“Come, Adjutant, let’s have a song.” + </p> +<p> +“I’ll sing you a Portuguese serenade when the next bottle comes in. What +capital port! Have you much of it?” + </p> +<p> +“Only three dozen. We got it late last night; forged an order from the +commanding officer and sent it up to old Monsoon,—‘for hospital +use.’ He gave it with a tear in his eye, saying, as the sergeant marched +away, ‘Only think of such wine for fellows that may be in the next world +before morning! It’s a downright sin!’” + </p> +<p> +“I say, Power, there’s something going on there.” + </p> +<p> +At this instant the trumpet sounded “boot and saddle,” and like one man +the whole mass rose up, when the scene, late so tranquil, became one of +excited bustle and confusion. An aide-de-camp galloped past towards the +river, followed by two orderly sergeants; and the next moment Sparks rode +up, his whole equipment giving evidence of a hurried ride, while his cheek +was deadly pale and haggard. +</p> +<p> +Power presented to him a goblet of sherry, which, having emptied at a +draught, he drew a long breath, and said, “They are coming,—coming +in force!” + </p> +<p> +“Who are coming?” said Power. “Take time, man, and collect yourself.” + </p> +<p> +“The French! I saw them a devilish deal closer than I liked. They wounded +one of the orderlies and took the other prisoner.” + </p> +<p> +“Forward!” said a hoarse voice in the front. “March! trot!” And before we +could obtain any further information from Sparks, whose faculties seemed +to have received a terrific shock, we were once more in the saddle, and +moving at a brisk pace onward. +</p> +<p> +Sparks had barely time to tell us that a large body of French cavalry +occupied the pass of Berar, when he was sent for by General Cotton to +finish his report. +</p> +<p> +“How frightened the fellow is!” said Hixley. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t think the worse of poor Sparks for all that,” said Power. “He saw +those fellows for the first time, and no bird’s-eye view of them either.” + </p> +<p> +“Then we are in for a skirmish, at least,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“It would appear not, from that,” said Hixley, pointing to the head of the +column, which, leaving the high road upon the left, entered the forest by +a deep cleft that opened upon a valley traversed by a broad river. +</p> +<p> +“That looks very like taking up a position, though,” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“Look,—look down yonder!” cried Hixley, pointing to a dip in the +plain beside the river. “Is there not a cavalry picket there?” + </p> +<p> +“Right, by Jove! I say, Fitzroy,” said Power to an aide-de-camp as he +passed, “what’s going on?” + </p> +<p> +“Soult has carried Oporto,” cried he, “and Franchesca’s cavalry have +escaped.” + </p> +<p> +“And who are these fellows in the valley?” + </p> +<p> +“Our own people coming up.” + </p> +<p> +In less than half an hour’s brisk trotting we reached the stream, the +banks of which were occupied by two cavalry regiments advancing to the +main army; and what was my delight to find that one of them was our own +corps, the 14th Light Dragoons! +</p> +<p> +“Hurra!” cried Power, waving his cap as he came up. “How are you, +Sedgewick? Baker, my hearty, how goes it? How is Hampton and the colonel?” + </p> +<p> +In an instant we were surrounded by our brother officers, who all shook me +cordially by the hand, and welcomed me to the regiment with most +gratifying warmth. +</p> +<p> +“One of us,” said Power, with a knowing look, as he introduced me; and the +freemasonry of these few words secured me a hearty greeting. +</p> +<p> +“Halt! halt! Dismount!” sounded again from front to rear; and in a few +minutes we were once more stretched upon the grass, beneath the deep and +mellow moonlight, while the bright stream ran placidly beside us, +reflecting on its calm surface the varied groups as they lounged or sat +around the blazing fires of the bivouac. +</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> +THE BIVOUAC. +</p> +<p> +When I contrasted the gay and lively tone of the conversation which ran on +around our bivouac fire, with the dry monotony and prosaic tediousness of +my first military dinner at Cork, I felt how much the spirit and adventure +of a soldier’s life can impart of chivalrous enthusiasm to even the +dullest and least susceptible. I saw even many who under common +circumstances, would have possessed no interest nor excited any curiosity, +but now, connected as they were with the great events occurring around +them, absolutely became heroes; and it was with a strange, wild throbbing +of excitement I listened to the details of movements and marches, whose +objects I knew not, but in which the magical words, Corunna, Vimeira, were +mixed up, and gave to the circumstances an interest of the highest +character. How proud, too, I felt to be the companion-in-arms of such +fellows! Here they sat, the tried and proved soldiers of a hundred fights, +treating me as their brother and their equal. Who need wonder if I felt a +sense of excited pleasure? Had I needed such a stimulant, that night +beneath the cork-trees had been enough to arouse a passion for the army in +my heart, and an irrepressible determination to seek for a soldier’s +glory. +</p> +<p> +“Fourteenth!” called out a voice from the wood behind; and in a moment +after, the aide-de-camp appeared with a mounted orderly. +</p> +<p> +“Colonel Merivale?” said he, touching his cap to the stalwart, +soldier-like figure before him. +</p> +<p> +The colonel bowed. +</p> +<p> +“Sir Stapleton Cotton desires me to request that at an early hour +to-morrow you will occupy the pass, and cover the march of the troops. It +is his wish that all the reinforcements should arrive at Oporto by noon. I +need scarcely add that we expect to be engaged with the enemy.” + </p> +<p> +These few words were spoken hurriedly, and again saluting our party, he +turned his horse’s head and continued his way towards the rear. +</p> +<p> +“There’s news for you, Charley,” said Power, slapping me on the shoulder. +“Lucy Dashwood or Westminster Abbey!” + </p> +<p> +“The regiment was never in finer condition, that’s certain,” said the +colonel, “and most eager for a brush with the enemy.” + </p> +<p> +“How your old friend, the count, would have liked this work!” said Hixley. +“Gallant fellow he was.” + </p> +<p> +“Come,” cried Power, “here’s a fresh bowl coming. Let’s drink the ladies, +wherever they be; we most of us have some soft spot on that score.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” said the adjutant, singing,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Here’s to the maiden of blushing fifteen; +Here’s to the damsel that’s merry; +Here’s to the flaunting extravagant quean—” + </pre> +<p> +“And,” sang Power, interrupting,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Here’s to the ‘Widow of Derry.’” + </pre> +<p> +“Come, come, Fred, no more quizzing on that score. It’s the only thing +ever gives me a distaste to the service,—the souvenir of that +adventure. When I reflect what I might have been, and think what I am; +when I contrast a Brussels carpet with wet grass, silk hangings with a +canvas tent, Sneyd’s claret with ration brandy, and Sir Arthur for a +Commander-in-Chief <i>vice</i> Boggs, a widow—” + </p> +<p> +“Stop there!” cried Hixley. “Without disparaging the fair widow, there’s +nothing beats campaigning, after all. Eh, Fred?” + </p> +<p> +“And to prove it,” said the colonel, “Power will sing us a song.” + </p> +<p> +Power took his pencil from his pocket, and placing the back of a letter +across his shako, commenced inditing his lyric, saying, as he did so, “I’m +your man in five minutes. Just fill my glass in the mean time.” + </p> +<p> +“That fellow beats Dibdin hollow,” whispered the adjutant. “I’ll be hanged +if he’ll not knock you off a song like lightning.” + </p> +<p> +“I understand,” said Hixley, “they have some intention at the Horse Guards +of having all the general orders set to popular tunes, and sung at every +mess in the service. You’ve heard that, I suppose, Sparks?” + </p> +<p> +“I confess I had not before.” + </p> +<p> +“It will certainly come very hard upon the subalterns,” continued Hixley, +with much gravity. “They’ll have to brush up their <i>sol mi fas</i>. All +the solos are to be their part.” + </p> +<p> +“What rhymes with slaughter?” said Power. +</p> +<p> +“Brandy-and-water,” said the adjutant. +</p> +<p> +“Now, then,” said Power, “are you all ready?” + </p> +<p> +“Ready.” + </p> +<p> +“You must chorus, mind; and mark me, take care you give the hip-hip-hurra +well, as that’s the whole force of the chant. Take the time from me. Now +for it. Air, ‘Garryowen,’ with spirit, but not too quick. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Now that we’ve pledged each eye of blue, +And every maiden fair and true, +And our green island home,—to you +The ocean’s wave adorning, +Let’s give one Hip-hip-hip-hurra! +And, drink e’en to the coming day, +When, squadron square, +We’ll all be there, +To meet the French in the morning. + +“May his bright laurels never fade, +Who leads our fighting fifth brigade, +Those lads so true in heart and blade, +And famed for danger scorning. +So join me in one Hip-hurra! +And drink e’en to the coming day, +When, squadron square, +We’ll all be there, +To meet the French in the morning. + +“And when with years and honors crowned, +You sit some homeward hearth around, +And hear no more the stirring sound +That spoke the trumpet’s warning, +You’ll fill and drink, one Hip-hurra! +And pledge the memory of the day, +When, squadron square, +They all were there, +To meet the French in the morning.” + </pre> +<p> +“Gloriously done, Fred!” cried Hixley. “If I ever get my deserts in this +world, I’ll make you Laureate to the Forces, with a hogshead of your own +native whiskey for every victory of the army.” + </p> +<p> +“A devilish good chant,” said Merivale, “but the air surpasses anything I +ever heard,—thoroughly Irish, I take it.” + </p> +<p> +“Irish! upon my conscience, I believe you!” shouted O’Shaughnessy, with an +energy of voice and manner that created a hearty laugh on all sides. “It’s +few people ever mistook it for a Venetian melody. Hand over the punch,—the +sherry, I mean. When I was in the Clare militia, we always went in to +dinner to ‘Tatter Jack Walsh,’ a sweet air, and had ‘Garryowen’ for a +quick-step. Ould M’Manus, when he got the regiment, wanted to change: he +said, they were damned vulgar tunes, and wanted to have ‘Rule Britannia,’ +or the ‘Hundredth Psalm;’ but we would not stand it; there would have been +a mutiny in the corps.” + </p> +<p> +“The same fellow, wasn’t he, that you told the story of, the other +evening, in Lisbon?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“The same. Well, what a character he was! As pompous and conceited a +little fellow as ever you met with; and then, he was so bullied by his +wife, he always came down to revenge it on the regiment. She was a fine, +showy, vulgar woman, with a most cherishing affection for all the good +things in this life, except her husband, whom she certainly held in due +contempt. ‘Ye little crayture,’ she’d say to him with a sneer, ‘it ill +becomes you to drink and sing, and be making a man of yourself. If you +were like O’Shaughnessy there, six foot three in his stockings—‘Well, +well, it looks like boasting; but no matter. Here’s her health, anyway.” + </p> +<p> +“I knew you were tender in that quarter,” said Power, “I heard it when +quartered in Limerick.” + </p> +<p> +“May be you heard, too, how I paid off Mac, when he came down on a visit +to that county?” + </p> +<p> +“Never: let’s hear it now.” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, O’Shaughnessy, now’s your time; the fire’s a good one, the night +fine, and liquor plenty.” + </p> +<p> +“I’m <i>convanient</i>,” said O’Shaughnessy, as depositing his enormous +legs on each side of the burning fagots, and placing a bottle between his +knees he began his story:— +</p> +<p> +“It was a cold rainy night in January, in the year ‘98, I took my place in +the Limerick mail, to go down for a few days to the west country. As the +waiter of the Hibernian came to the door with a lantern, I just caught a +glimpse of the other insides; none of whom were known to me, except +Colonel M’Manus, that I met once in a boarding-house in Molcsworth Street. +I did not, at the time, think him a very agreeable companion; but when +morning broke, and we began to pay our respects to each other in the +coach, I leaned over, and said, ‘I hope you’re well, Colonel M’Manus,’ +just by way of civility like. He didn’t hear me at first; so that I said +it again, a little louder. +</p> +<p> +“I wish you saw the look he gave me; he drew himself up to the height of +his cotton umbrella, put his chin inside his cravat, pursed up his dry, +shrivelled lips, and with a voice he meant to be awful, replied:— +</p> +<p> +“‘You appear to have the advantage of me.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Upon my conscience, you’re right,’ said I, looking down at myself, and +then over at him, at which the other travellers burst out a laughing,—‘I +think there’s few will dispute that point.’ When the laugh was over, I +resumed,—for I was determined not to let him off so easily. ‘Sure I +met you at Mrs. Cayle’s,’ said I; ‘and, by the same token, it was a +Friday, I remember it well,—may be you didn’t pitch into the salt +cod? I hope it didn’t disagree with you?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I beg to repeat, sir, that you are under a mistake,’ said he. +</p> +<p> +“‘May be so, indeed,’ said I. ‘May be you’re not Colonel M’Manus at all; +may be you wasn’t in a passion for losing seven-and-sixpence at loo with +Mrs. Moriarty; may be you didn’t break the lamp in the hall with your +umbrella, pretending you touched it with your head, and wasn’t within +three foot of it; may be Counsellor Brady wasn’t going to put you in the +box of the Foundling Hospital, if you wouldn’t behave quietly in the +streets—’ +</p> +<p> +“Well, with this the others laughed so heartily, that I could not go on; +and the next stage the bold colonel got outside with the guard and never +came in till we reached Limerick. I’ll never forget his face, as he got +down at Swinburne’s Hotel. ‘Good-by, Colonel,’ said I; but he wouldn’t +take the least notice of my politeness, but with a frown of utter +defiance, he turned on his heel and walked away. +</p> +<p> +“‘I haven’t done with you yet,’ says I; and, faith, I kept my word. +</p> +<p> +“I hadn’t gone ten yards down the street, when I met my old friend Darby +O’Grady. +</p> +<p> +“‘Shaugh, my boy,’ says he,—he called me that way for shortness,—‘dine +with me to-day at Mosey’s; a green goose and gooseberries; six to a +minute.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Who have you?’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Tom Keane and the Wallers, a counsellor or two, and one M’Manus, from +Dublin.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The colonel?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The same,’ said he. +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m there, Darby!’ said I; ‘but mind, you never saw me before.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What?’ said he. +</p> +<p> +“‘You never set eyes on me before; mind that.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I understand,’ said Darby, with a wink; and we parted. +</p> +<p> +“I certainly was never very particular about dressing for dinner, but on +this day I spent a considerable time at my toilet; and when I looked in my +glass at its completion, was well satisfied that I had done myself +justice. A waistcoat of brown rabbit-skin with flaps, a red worsted +comforter round my neck, an old gray shooting-jacket with a brown patch on +the arm, corduroys, and leather gaiters, with a tremendous oak cudgel in +my hand, made me a most presentable figure for a dinner party. +</p> +<p> +“‘Will I do, Darby?’ says I, as he came into my room before dinner. +</p> +<p> +“‘If it’s for robbing the mail you are,’ says he, ‘nothing could be +better. Your father wouldn’t know you!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Would I be the better of a wig?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Leave your hair alone,’ said he. ‘It’s painting the lily to alter it.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, God’s will be done,’ says I, ‘so come now.’ +</p> +<p> +“Well, just as the clock struck six I saw the colonel coming out of his +room, in a suit of most accurate sable, stockings, and pumps. Down-stairs +he went, and I heard the waiter announce him. +</p> +<p> +“‘Now’s my time,’ thought I, as I followed slowly after. +</p> +<p> +“When I reached the door I heard several voices within, among which I +recognized some ladies. Darby had not told me about them. ‘But no matter,’ +said I; ‘it’s all as well;’ so I gave a gentle tap at the door with my +knuckles. +</p> +<p> +“‘Come in,’ said Darby. +</p> +<p> +“I opened the door slowly, and putting in only my head and shoulders took +a cautious look round the room. +</p> +<p> +“‘I beg pardon, gentlemen,’ said I, ‘but I was only looking for one +Colonel M’Manus, and as he is not here—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Pray walk in, sir,’ said O’Grady, with a polite bow. ‘Colonel M’Manus is +here. There’s no intrusion whatever. I say, Colonel,’ said he turning +round, ‘a gentleman here desires to—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Never mind it now,’ said I, as I stepped cautiously into the room, ‘he’s +going to dinner; another time will do just as well.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Pray come in!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I could not think of intruding—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I must protest,’ said M’Manus, coloring up, ‘that I cannot understand +this gentleman’s visit.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘It is a little affair I have to settle with him,’ said I, with a fierce +look that I saw produced its effect. +</p> +<p> +“‘Then perhaps you would do me the very great favor to join him at +dinner,’ said O’Grady. ‘Any friend of Colonel M’Manus—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You are really too good,’ said I; ‘but as an utter stranger—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Never think of that for a moment. My friend’s friend, as the adage +says.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Upon my conscience, a good saying,’ said I, ‘but you see there’s another +difficulty. I’ve ordered a chop and potatoes up in No. 5.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Let that be no obstacle,’ said O’Grady. ‘The waiter shall put it in my +bill; if you will only do me the pleasure.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You’re a trump,’ said I. ‘What’s your name?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘O’Grady, at your service.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Any relation of the counsellor?’ said I. ‘They’re all one family, the +O’Gradys. I’m Mr. O’Shaughnessy, from Ennis; won’t you introduce me to the +ladies?’ +</p> +<p> +“While the ceremony of presentation was going on I caught one glance at +M’Manus, and had hard work not to roar out laughing. Such an expression of +surprise, amazement, indignation, rage, and misery never was mixed up in +one face before. Speak he could not; and I saw that, except for myself, he +had neither eyes, ears, nor senses for anything around him. Just at this +moment dinner was announced, and in we went. I never was in such spirits +in my life; the trick upon M’Manus had succeeded perfectly; he believed in +his heart that I had never met O’Grady in my life before, and that upon +the faith of our friendship, I had received my invitation. As for me, I +spared him but little. I kept up a running fire of droll stories, had the +ladies in fits of laughing, made everlasting allusions to the colonel; +and, in a word, ere the soup had disappeared, except himself, the company +was entirely with me. +</p> +<p> +“‘O’Grady,’ said I, ‘forgive the freedom, but I feel as if we were old +acquaintances.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘As Colonel M’Manus’s friend,’ said he, ‘you can take no liberty here to +which you are not perfectly welcome.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Just what I expected,’ said I. ‘Mac and I,’—I wish you saw his +face when I called him Mac,—‘Mac and I were schoolfellows +five-and-thirty years ago; though he forgets me, I don’t forget him,—to +be sure it would be hard for me. I’m just thinking of the day Bishop +Oulahan came over to visit the college. Mac was coming in at the door of +the refectory as the bishop was going out. “Take off your caubeen, you +young scoundrel, and kneel down for his reverence to bless you,” said one +of the masters, giving his hat a blow at the same moment that sent it +flying to the other end of the room, and with it, about twenty ripe pears +that Mac had just stolen in the orchard, and had in his hat. I wish you +only saw the bishop; and Mac himself, he was a picture. Well, well, you +forget it all now, but I remember it as if it was only yesterday. Any +champagne, Mr. O’Grady? I’m mighty dry.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Of course,’ said Darby. ‘Waiter, some champagne here.’ +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0381.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="The Salutation. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“‘Ah, it’s himself was the boy for every kind of fun and devilment, quiet +and demure as he looks over there. Mac, your health. It’s not every day of +the week we get champagne.’ +</p> +<p> +“He laid down his knife and fork as I said this; his face and temples grew +deep purple; his eyes started as if they would spring from his head; and +he put both his hands to his forehead, as if trying to assure himself that +it was not some horrid dream. +</p> +<p> +“‘A little slice more of the turkey,’ said I, ‘and then, O’Grady, I’ll try +your hock. It’s a wine I’m mighty fond of, and so is Mac there. Oh, it’s +seldom, to tell you the truth, it troubles us. There, fill up the glass; +that’s it. Here now, Darby,—that’s your name, I think,—you’ll +not think I’m taking a liberty in giving a toast? Here then, I’ll give +M’Manus’s health, with all the honors; though it’s early yet, to be sure, +but we’ll do it again, by-and-by, when the whiskey comes. Here’s M’Manus’s +good health; and though his wife, they say, does not treat him well, and +keeps him down—’ +</p> +<p> +“The roar of laughing that interrupted me here was produced by the +expression of poor Mac’s face. He had started up from the table, and +leaning with both his hands upon it, stared round upon the company like a +maniac,—his mouth and eyes wide open, and his hair actually +bristling with amazement. Thus he remained for a full minute, gasping like +a fish in a landing-net. It seemed a hard struggle for him to believe he +was not deranged. At last his eyes fell upon me; he uttered a deep groan, +and with a voice tremulous with rage, thundered out,— +</p> +<p> +“‘The scoundrel! I never saw him before.’ +</p> +<p> +“He rushed from the room, and gained the street. Before our roar of +laughter was over he had secured post-horses, and was galloping towards +Ennis at the top speed of his cattle. +</p> +<p> +“He exchanged at once into the line; but they say that he caught a glimpse +of my name in the army list, and sold out the next morning; be that as it +may, we never met since.” + </p> +<p> +I have related O’Shaughnessy’s story here, rather from the memory I have +of how we all laughed at it at the time, than from any feeling as to its +real desert; but when I think of the voice, look, accent, and gesture of +the narrator, I can scarcely keep myself from again giving way to +laughter. +</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> +THE DOURO. +</p> +<p> +Never did the morning break more beautifully than on the 12th of May, +1809. Huge masses of fog-like vapor had succeeded to the starry, cloudless +night, but one by one, they moved onwards towards the sea, disclosing as +they passed long tracts of lovely country, bathed in a rich golden glow. +The broad Douro, with its transparent current, shone out like a +bright-colored ribbon, meandering through the deep garment of fairest +green; the darkly shadowed mountains which closed the background loomed +even larger than they were; while their summits were tipped with the +yellow glory of the morning. The air was calm and still, and the very +smoke that arose from the peasant’s cot labored as it ascended through the +perfumed air, and save the ripple of the stream, all was silent as the +grave. +</p> +<p> +The squadron of the 14th, with which I was, had diverged from the road +beside the river, and to obtain a shorter path, had entered the skirts of +a dark pine wood; our pace was a sharp one; an orderly had been already +despatched to hasten our arrival, and we pressed on at a brisk trot. In +less than an hour we reached the verge of the wood, and as we rode out +upon the plain, what a spectacle met our eyes! Before us, in a narrow +valley separated from the river by a low ridge, were picketed three +cavalry regiments; their noiseless gestures and perfect stillness +be-speaking at once that they were intended for a surprise party. Farther +down the stream, and upon the opposite side, rose the massive towers and +tall spires of Oporto, displaying from their summits the broad ensign of +France; while far as the eye could reach, the broad dark masses of troops +might be seen; the intervals between their columns glittering with the +bright equipments of their cavalry, whose steel caps and lances were +sparkling in the sun-beams. The bivouac fires were still smouldering, and +marking where some part of the army had passed the night; for early as it +was, it was evident that their position had been changed; and even now, +the heavy masses of dark infantry might be seen moving from place to +place, while the long line of the road to Vallonga was marked with a vast +cloud of dust. The French drum and the light infantry bugle told, from +time to time, that orders were passing among the troops; while the +glittering uniform of a staff officer, as he galloped from the town, +bespoke the note of preparation. +</p> +<p> +“Dismount! Steady; quietly, my lads,” said the colonel, as he alighted +upon the grass. “Let the men have their breakfast.” + </p> +<p> +The little amphitheatre we occupied hid us entirely from all observation +on the part of the enemy, but equally so excluded us from perceiving their +movements. It may readily be supposed then, with what impatience we waited +here, while the din and clangor of the French force, as they marched and +countermarched so near us, were clearly audible. The orders were, however, +strict that none should approach the bank of the river, and we lay +anxiously awaiting the moment when this inactivity should cease. More than +one orderly had arrived among us, bearing despatches from headquarters; +but where our main body was, or what the nature of the orders, no one +could guess. As for me, my excitement was at its height, and I could not +speak for the very tension of my nerves. The officers stood in little +groups of two and three, whispering anxiously together; but all I could +collect was, that Soult had already begun his retreat upon Amarante, and +that, with the broad stream of the Douro between us, he defied our +pursuit. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Charley,” said Power, laying his arm upon my shoulder, “the French +have given us the slip this time; they are already in march, and even if +we dared force a passage in the face of such an enemy, it seems there is +not a boat to be found. I have just seen Hammersley.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed! Where is he?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“He’s gone back to Villa de Conde; he asked after you most particularly. +Don’t blush, man; I’d rather back your chance than his, notwithstanding +the long letter that Lucy sends him. Poor fellow, he has been badly +wounded, but, it seems, declines going back to England.” + </p> +<p> +“Captain Power,” said an orderly, touching his cap, “General Murray +desires to see you.” + </p> +<p> +Power hastened away, but returned in a few moments. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Charley, there’s something in the wind here. I have just been +ordered to try where the stream is fordable. I’ve mentioned your name to +the general, and I think you’ll be sent for soon. Good-by.” + </p> +<p> +I buckled on my sword, and looking to my girths, stood watching the groups +around me; when suddenly a dragoon pulled his horse short up, and asked a +man near me if Mr. O’Malley was there. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; I am he.” + </p> +<p> +“Orders from General Murray, sir,” said the man, and rode off at a canter. +</p> +<p> +I opened and saw that the despatch was addressed to Sir Arthur Wellesley, +with the mere words, “With haste!” on the envelope. +</p> +<p> +Now, which way to turn I knew not; so springing into the saddle, I +galloped to where Colonel Merivale was standing talking to the colonel of +a heavy dragoon regiment. +</p> +<p> +“May I ask, sir, by which road I am to proceed with this despatch?” + </p> +<p> +“Along the river, sir,” said the heavy ———, a large +dark-browed man, with a most forbidding look. “You’ll soon see the troops; +you’d better stir yourself, sir, or Sir Arthur is not very likely to be +pleased with you.” + </p> +<p> +Without venturing a reply to what I felt a somewhat unnecessary taunt, I +dashed spurs into my horse, and turned towards the river. I had not gained +the bank above a minute, when the loud ringing of a rifle struck upon my +ear; bang went another, and another. I hurried on, however, at the top of +my speed, thinking only of my mission and its pressing haste. As I turned +an angle of the stream, the vast column of the British came in sight, and +scarcely had my eye rested upon them when my horse staggered forwards, +plunged twice with his head nearly to the earth, and then, rearing madly +up, fell backwards to the ground. Crushed and bruised as I felt by my +fall, I was soon aroused to the necessity of exertion; for as I disengaged +myself from the poor beast, I discovered he had been killed by a bullet in +the counter; and scarcely had I recovered my legs when a shot struck my +shako and grazed my temples. I quickly threw myself to the ground, and +creeping on for some yards, reached at last some rising ground, from which +I rolled gently downwards into a little declivity, sheltered by the bank +from the French fire. +</p> +<p> +When I arrived at headquarters, I was dreadfully fatigued and heated; but +resolving not to rest till I had delivered my despatches, I hastened +towards the convent of La Sierra, where I was told the commander-in-chief +was. +</p> +<p> +As I came into the court of the convent, filled with general officers and +people of the staff, I was turning to ask how I should proceed, when +Hixley caught my eye. +</p> +<p> +“Well, O’Malley, what brings you here?” + </p> +<p> +“Despatches from General Murray.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed; oh, follow me.” + </p> +<p> +He hurried me rapidly through the buzzing crowd, and ascending a large +gloomy stair, introduced me into a room, where about a dozen persons in +uniform were writing at a long deal table. +</p> +<p> +“Captain Gordon,” said he, addressing one of them, “despatches requiring +immediate attention have just been brought by this officer.” + </p> +<p> +Before the sentence was finished the door opened, and a short, slight man, +in a gray undress coat, with a white cravat and a cocked hat, entered. The +dead silence that ensued was not necessary to assure me that he was one in +authority,—the look of command his bold, stern features presented; +the sharp, piercing eye, the compressed lip, the impressive expression of +the whole face, told plainly that he was one who held equally himself and +others in mastery. +</p> +<p> +“Send General Sherbroke here,” said he to an aide-de-camp. “Let the light +brigade march into position;” and then turning suddenly to me, “Whose +despatches are these?” + </p> +<p> +“General Murray’s, sir.” + </p> +<p> +I needed no more than that look to assure me that this was he of whom I +had heard so much, and of whom the world was still to hear so much more. +</p> +<p> +He opened them quickly, and glancing his eye across the contents, crushed +the paper in his hand. Just as he did so, a spot of blood upon the +envelope attracted his attention. +</p> +<p> +“How’s this,—are you wounded?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir; my horse was killed—” + </p> +<p> +“Very well, sir; join your brigade. But stay, I shall have orders for you. +Well, Waters, what news?” + </p> +<p> +This question was addressed to an officer in a staff uniform, who entered +at the moment, followed by the short and bulky figure of a monk, his +shaven crown and large cassock strongly contrasting with the gorgeous +glitter of the costumes around him. +</p> +<p> +“I say, who have we here?” + </p> +<p> +“The Prior of Amarante, sir,” replied Waters, “who has just come over. We +have already, by his aid, secured three large barges—” + </p> +<p> +“Let the artillery take up position in the convent at once,” said Sir +Arthur, interrupting. “The boats will be brought round to the small creek +beneath the orchard. You, sir,” turning to me, “will convey to General +Murray—but you appear weak. You, Gordon, will desire Murray to +effect a crossing at Avintas with the Germans and the 14th. Sherbroke’s +division will occupy the Villa Nuova. What number of men can that seminary +take?” + </p> +<p> +“From three to four hundred, sir. The padre mentions that all the +vigilance of the enemy is limited to the river below the town.” + </p> +<p> +“I perceive it,” was the short reply of Sir Arthur, as placing his hands +carelessly behind his back, he walked towards the window, and looked out +upon the river. +</p> +<p> +All was still as death in the chamber; not a lip murmured. The feeling of +respect for him in whose presence we were standing checked every thought +of utterance; while the stupendous gravity of the events before us +engrossed every mind and occupied every heart. I was standing near the +window; the effect of my fall had stunned me for a time, but I was +gradually recovering, and watched with a thrilling heart the scene before +me. Great and absorbing as was my interest in what was passing without, it +was nothing compared with what I felt as I looked at him upon whom our +destiny was then hanging. I had ample time to scan his features and +canvass their every lineament. Never before did I look upon such perfect +impassibility; the cold, determined expression was crossed by no show of +passion or impatience. All was rigid and motionless, and whatever might +have been the workings of the spirit within, certainly no external sign +betrayed them; and yet what a moment for him must that have been! Before +him, separated by a deep and rapid river, lay the conquering legions of +France, led on by one second alone to him whose very name had been the <i>prestige</i> +of victory. Unprovided with every regular means of transport, in the broad +glare of day, in open defiance of their serried ranks and thundering +artillery, he dared the deed. What must have been his confidence in the +soldiers he commanded! What must have been his reliance upon his own +genius! As such thoughts rushed through my mind, the door opened and an +officer entered hastily, and whispering a few words to Colonel Waters, +left the room. +</p> +<p> +“One boat is already brought up to the crossing-place, and entirely +concealed by the wall of the orchard.” + </p> +<p> +“Let the men cross,” was the brief reply. +</p> +<p> +No other word was spoken as, turning from the window, he closed his +telescope, and followed by all the others, descended to the courtyard. +</p> +<p> +This simple order was enough; an officer with a company of the Buffs +embarked, and thus began the passage of the Douro. +</p> +<p> +So engrossed was I in my vigilant observation of our leader, that I would +gladly have remained at the convent, when I received an order to join my +brigade, to which a detachment of artillery was already proceeding. +</p> +<p> +As I reached Avintas all was in motion. The cavalry was in readiness +beside the river; but as yet no boats had been discovered, and such was +the impatience of the men to cross, it was with difficulty they were +prevented trying the passage by swimming, when suddenly Power appeared +followed by several fishermen. Three or four small skiffs had been found, +half sunk in mud, among the rushes, and with such frail assistance we +commenced to cross. +</p> +<p> +“There will be something to write home to Galway soon, Charley, or I’m +terribly mistaken,” said Fred, as he sprang into the boat beside me. “Was +I not a true prophet when I told you ‘We’d meet the French in the +morning?’” + </p> +<p> +“They’re at it already,” said Hixley, as a wreath of blue smoke floated +across the stream below us, and the loud boom of a large gun resounded +through the air. +</p> +<p> +Then came a deafening shout, followed by a rattling volley of small arms, +gradually swelling into a hot sustained fire, through which the cannon +pealed at intervals. Several large meadows lay along the river-side, where +our brigade was drawn up as the detachments landed from the boats; and +here, although nearly a league distant from the town, we now heard the din +and crash of battle, which increased every moment. The cannonade from the +Sierra convent, which at first was merely the fire of single guns, now +thundered away in one long roll, amidst which the sounds of falling walls +and crashing roofs were mingled. It was evident to us, from the continual +fire kept up, that the landing had been effected; while the swelling tide +of musketry told that fresh troops were momentarily coming up. +</p> +<p> +In less than twenty minutes our brigade was formed, and we now only waited +for two light four-pounders to be landed, when an officer galloped up in +haste, and called out,— +</p> +<p> +“The French are in retreat!” and pointing at the same moment to the +Vallonga road, we saw a long line of smoke and dust leading from the town, +through which, as we gazed, the colors of the enemy might be seen as they +defiled, while the unbroken lines of the wagons and heavy baggage proved +that it was no partial movement, but the army itself retreating. +</p> +<p> +“Fourteenth, threes about! close up! trot!” called out the loud and manly +voice of our leader, and the heavy tramp of our squadrons shook the very +ground as we advanced towards the road to Vallonga. +</p> +<p> +As we came on, the scene became one of overwhelming excitement; the masses +of the enemy that poured unceasingly from the town could now be +distinguished more clearly; and amidst all the crash of gun-carriages and +caissons, the voices of the staff officers rose high as they hurried along +the retreating battalions. A troop of flying artillery galloped forth at +top speed, and wheeling their guns into position with the speed of +lightning, prepared, by a flanking fire, to cover the retiring column. The +gunners sprang from their seats, the guns were already unlimbered, when +Sir George Murray, riding up at our left, called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Forward! close up! Charge!” + </p> +<p> +The word was scarcely spoken when the loud cheer answered the welcome +sound, and the same instant the long line of shining helmets passed with +the speed of a whirlwind; the pace increased at every stride, the ranks +grew closer, and like the dread force of some mighty engine we fell upon +the foe. I have felt all the glorious enthusiasm of a fox-hunt, when the +loud cry of the hounds, answered by the cheer of the joyous huntsman, +stirred the very heart within, but never till now did I know how far +higher the excitement reaches, when man to man, sabre to sabre, arm to +arm, we ride forward to the battle-field. On we went, the loud shout of +“Forward!” still ringing in our ears. One broken, irregular discharge from +the French guns shook the head of our advancing column, but stayed us not +as we galloped madly on. +</p> +<p> +I remember no more. The din, the smoke, the crash, the cry for quarter, +mingled with the shout of victory, the flying enemy, the agonizing shrieks +of the wounded,—all are commingled in my mind, but leave no trace of +clearness or connection between them; and it was only when the column +wheeled to reform behind the advancing squadrons, that I awoke from my +trance of maddening excitement, and perceived that we had carried the +position and cut off the guns of the enemy. +</p> +<p> +“Well done, 14th!” said an old gray-headed colonel, as he rode along our +line,—“gallantly done, lads!” The blood trickled from a sabre cut on +his temple, along his cheek, as he spoke; but he either knew it not or +heeded it not. +</p> +<p> +“There go the Germans!” said Power, pointing to the remainder of our +brigade, as they charged furiously upon the French infantry, and rode +them down in masses. +</p> +<p> +Our guns came up at this time, and a plunging fire was opened upon the +thick and retreating ranks of the enemy. The carnage must have been +terrific, for the long breaches in their lines showed where the squadrons +of the cavalry had passed, or the most destructive tide of the artillery +had swept through them. The speed of the flying columns grew momentarily +more; the road became blocked up, too, by broken carriages and wounded; +and to add to their discomfiture, a damaging fire now opened from the town +upon the retreating column, while the brigade of Guards and the 29th +pressed hotly on their rear. +</p> +<p> +The scene was now beyond anything maddening in its interest. From the +walls of Oporto the English infantry poured forth in pursuit, while the +whole river was covered with boats as they still continued to cross over. +The artillery thundered from the Sierra to protect the landing, for it was +even still contested in places; and the cavalry, charging in flank, swept +the broken ranks and bore down upon the squares. +</p> +<p> +It was now, when the full tide of victory ran highest in our favor, that +we were ordered to retire from the road. Column after column passed before +us, unmolested and unassailed, and not even a cannon-shot arrested their +steps. +</p> +<p> +Some unaccountable timidity of our leader directed this movement; and +while before our very eyes the gallant infantry were charging the retiring +columns, we remained still and inactive. +</p> +<p> +How little did the sense of praise we had already won repay us for the +shame and indignation we experienced at this moment, as with burning check +and compressed lip we watched the retreating files. “What can he mean?” + “Is there not some mistake?” “Are we never to charge?” were the muttered +questions around, as a staff officer galloped up with the order to take +ground still farther back, and nearer to the river. +</p> +<p> +The word was scarcely spoken when a young officer, in the uniform of a +general, dashed impetuously up; he held his plumed cap high above his +head, as he called out, “14th, follow me! Left face! wheel! charge!” + </p> +<p> +So, with the word, we were upon them. The French rear-guard was at this +moment at the narrowest part of the road, which opened by a bridge upon a +large open space; so that, forming with a narrow front and favored by a +declivity in the ground, we actually rode them down. Twice the French +formed, and twice were they broken. Meanwhile the carnage was dreadful on +both sides, our fellows dashing madly forward where the ranks were +thickest, the enemy resisting with the stubborn courage of men fighting +for their last spot of ground. So impetuous was the charge of our +squadrons, that we stopped not till, piercing the dense column of the +retreating mass, we reached the open ground beyond. Here we wheeled and +prepared once more to meet them, when suddenly some squadrons of +cuirassiers debouched from the road, and supported by a field-piece, +showed front against us. This was the moment that the remainder of our +brigade should have come to our aid, but not a man appeared. However, +there was not an instant to be lost; already the plunging fire of the +four-pounder had swept through our files, and every moment increased our +danger. +</p> +<p> +“Once more, my lads, forward!” cried out our gallant leader, Sir Charles +Stewart, as waving his sabre, he dashed into the thickest of the fray. +</p> +<p> +So sudden was our charge that we were upon them before they were prepared. +And here ensued a terrific struggle; for as the cavalry of the enemy gave +way before us, we came upon the close ranks of the infantry at half-pistol +distance, who poured a withering volley into us as we approached. But what +could arrest the sweeping torrent of our brave fellows, though every +moment falling in numbers? +</p> +<p> +Harvey, our major, lost his arm near the shoulder. Scarcely an officer was +not wounded. Power received a deep sabre-cut in the cheek from an +aide-de-camp of General Foy, in return for a wound he gave the general; +while I, in my endeavor to save General Laborde when unhorsed, was cut +down through the helmet, and so stunned that I remembered no more around +me. I kept my saddle, it is true, but I lost every sense of consciousness, +my first glimmering of reason coming to my aid as I lay upon the river +bank and felt my faithful follower Mike bathing my temples with water, as +he kept up a running fire of lamentations for my being <i>murthered</i> so +young. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0393.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="The Skirmish. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Are you better, Mister Charles? Spake to me, alanah! Say that you’re not +kilt, darling; do now. Oh, wirra! what’ll I ever say to the master? and +you doing so beautiful! Wouldn’t he give the best baste in his stable to +be looking at you to-day? There, take a sup; it’s only water. Bad luck to +them, but it’s hard work beatin’ them. They ‘re only gone now. That’s +right; now you’re coming to.” + </p> +<p> +“Where am I, Mike?” + </p> +<p> +“It’s here you are, darling, resting yourself.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, Charley, my poor fellow, you’ve got sore bones, too,” cried Power, +as, his face swathed in bandages and covered with blood, he lay down on +the grass beside me. “It was a gallant thing while it lasted, but has cost +us dearly. Poor Hixley—” + </p> +<p> +“What of him?” said I, anxiously. +</p> +<p> +“Poor fellow, he has seen his last battle-field! He fell across me as we +came out upon the road. I lifted him up in my arms and bore him along +above fifty yards; but he was stone dead. Not a sigh, not a word escaped +him; shot through the forehead.” As he spoke, his lips trembled, and his +voice sank to a mere whisper at the last words: “You remember what he said +last night. Poor fellow, he was every inch a soldier.” + </p> +<p> +Such was his epitaph. +</p> +<p> +I turned my head towards the scene of our late encounter. Some dismounted +guns and broken wagons alone marked the spot; while far in the distance, +the dust of the retreating columns showed the beaten enemy as they hurried +towards the frontiers of Spain. +</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> +THE MORNING. +</p> +<p> +There are few sadder things in life than the day after a battle. The +high-beating hope, the bounding spirits, have passed away, and in their +stead comes the depressing reaction by which every overwrought excitement +is followed. With far different eyes do we look upon the compact ranks and +glistening files,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +With helm arrayed, +And lance and blade, +And plume in the gay wind dancing! +</pre> +<p> +and upon the cold and barren heath, whose only memory of the past is the +blood-stained turf, a mangled corpse, the broken gun, the shattered wall, +the well-trodden earth where columns stood, the cut-up ground where +cavalry had charged,—these are the sad relics of all the chivalry of +yesterday. +</p> +<p> +The morning which followed the battle of the Douro was one of the most +beautiful I ever remember. There was that kind of freshness and elasticity +in the air which certain days possess, and communicate by some magic their +properties to ourselves. The thrush was singing gayly out from every grove +and wooded dell; the very river had a sound of gladness as it rippled on +against its sedgy banks; the foliage, too, sparkled in the fresh dew, as +in its robes of holiday, and all looked bright and happy. +</p> +<p> +We were picketed near the river, upon a gently rising ground, from which +the view extended for miles in every direction. Above us, the stream came +winding down amidst broad and fertile fields of tall grass and waving +corn, backed by deep and mellow woods, which were lost to the view upon +the distant hills; below, the river, widening as it went, pursued a +straighter course, or turned with bolder curves, till, passing beneath the +town, it spread into a large sheet of glassy water as it opened to the +sea. The sun was just rising as I looked upon this glorious scene, and +already the tall spires of Oporto were tipped with a bright rosy hue, +while the massive towers and dark walls threw their lengthened shadows far +across the plain. +</p> +<p> +The fires of the bivouac still burned, but all slept around them. Not a +sound was heard save the tramp of a patrol or the short, quick cry of the +sentry. I sat lost in meditation, or rather in that state of dreamy +thoughtfulness in which the past and present are combined, and the absent +are alike before us as are the things we look upon. +</p> +<p> +One moment I felt as though I were describing to my uncle the battle of +the day before, pointing out where we stood, and how we charged; then +again I was at home, beside the broad, bleak Shannon, and the brown hills +of Scariff. I watched with beating heart the tall Sierra, where our path +lay for the future, and then turned my thoughts to him whose name was so +soon to be received in England with a nation’s pride and gratitude, and +panted for a soldier’s glory. +</p> +<p> +As thus I followed every rising fancy, I heard a step approach; it was a +figure muffled in a cavalry cloak, which I soon perceived to be Power. +</p> +<p> +“Charley!” said he, in a half-whisper, “get up and come with me. You are +aware of the general order, that while in pursuit of an enemy, all +military honors to the dead are forbidden; but we wish to place our poor +comrade in the earth before we leave.” + </p> +<p> +I followed down a little path, through a grave of tall beech-trees, that +opened upon a little grassy terrace beside the river. A stunted olive-tree +stood by itself in the midst, and there I found five of our brother +officers standing, wrapped in their wide cloaks. As we pressed each +other’s hands, not a word was spoken. Each heart was full; and hard +features that never quailed before the foe were now shaken with the +convulsive spasm of agony or compressed with stern determination to seem +calm. +</p> +<p> +A cavalry helmet and a large blue cloak lay upon the grass. The narrow +grave was already dug beside it; and in the deathlike stillness around, +the service for the dead was read. The last words were over. We stooped +and placed the corpse, wrapped up in the broad mantle, in the earth; we +replaced the mould, and stood silently around the spot. The trumpet of our +regiment at this moment sounded the call; its clear notes rang sharply +through the thin air,—it was the soldier’s requiem! and we turned +away without speaking, and returned to our quarters. +</p> +<p> +I had never known poor Hixley till a day or two before; but, somehow, my +grief for him was deep and heartfelt. It was not that his frank and manly +bearing, his bold and military air, had gained upon me. No; these were +indeed qualities to attract and delight me, but he had obtained a stronger +and faster hold upon my affections,—he spoke to me of home. +</p> +<p> +Of all the ties that bind us to the chance acquaintances we meet with in +life, what can equal this one? What a claim upon your love has he who can, +by some passing word, some fast-flitting thought, bring back the days of +your youth! What interest can he not excite by some anecdote of your +boyish days, some well-remembered trait of youthful daring, or early +enterprise! Many a year of sunshine and of storm have passed above my +head; I have not been without my moments of gratified pride and rewarded +ambition; but my heart has never responded so fully, so thankfully, so +proudly to these, such as they were, as to the simple, touching words of +one who knew my early home, and loved its inmates. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Fitzroy, what news?” inquired I, roused from my musing, as an +aide-de-camp galloped up at full speed. +</p> +<p> +“Tell Merivale to get the regiment under arms at once. Sir Arthur +Wellesley will be here in less than half an hour. You may look for the +route immediately. Where are the Germans quartered?” + </p> +<p> +“Lower down; beside that grove of beech-trees, next the river.” + </p> +<p> +Scarcely was my reply spoken, when he dashed spurs into his horse, and was +soon out of sight. Meanwhile the plain beneath me presented an animated +and splendid spectacle. The different corps were falling into position to +the enlivening sounds of their quick-step, the trumpets of the cavalry +rang loudly through the valley, and the clatter of sabres and sabretasches +joined with the hollow tramp of the horses, as the squadron came up. +</p> +<p> +I had not a moment to lose; so hastening back to my quarters, I found Mike +waiting with my horse. +</p> +<p> +“Captain Power’s before you, sir,” said he, “and you’ll have to make +haste. The regiments are under arms already.” + </p> +<p> +From the little mound where I stood, I could see the long line of cavalry +as they deployed into the plain, followed by the horse artillery, which +brought up the rear. +</p> +<p> +“This looks like a march,” thought I, as I pressed forward to join my +companions. +</p> +<p> +I had not advanced above a hundred yards through a narrow ravine when the +measured tread of infantry fell upon my ears. I pulled up to slacken my +pace, just as the head of a column turned round the angle of the road, and +came in view. The tall caps of a grenadier company was the first thing I +beheld, as they came on without roll of drum and sound of fife. I watched +with a soldier’s pride the manly bearing and gallant step of the dense +mass as they defiled before me. I was struck no less by them than by a +certain look of a steady but sombre cast which each man wore. +</p> +<p> +“What can this mean?” thought I. +</p> +<p> +My first impression was, that a military execution was about to take +place, the next moment solved my doubt; for as the last files of the +grenadiers wheeled round, a dense mass behind came in sight, whose unarmed +hands, and downcast air, at once bespoke them prisoners-of-war. +</p> +<p> +What a sad sight it was! There was the old and weather-beaten grenadier, +erect in frame and firm in step, his gray mustache scarcely concealing the +scowl that curled his lip, side by side with the young and daring +conscript, even yet a mere boy; their march was regular, their gaze +steadfast,—no look of flinching courage there. On they came, a long +unbroken line. They looked not less proudly than their captors around +them. As I looked with heavy heart upon them, my attention was attracted +to one who marched alone behind the rest. He was a middle-sized but +handsome youth of some eighteen years at most; his light helmet and waving +plume bespoke him a <i>chasseur à cheval</i>, and I could plainly +perceive, in his careless half-saucy air, how indignantly he felt the +position to which the fate of war had reduced him. He caught my eyes fixed +upon him, and for an instant turned upon me a gaze of open and palpable +defiance, drawing himself up to his full height, and crossing his arms +upon his breast; but probably perceiving in my look more of interest than +of triumph, his countenance suddenly changed, a deep blush suffused his +cheek, his eye beamed with a softened and kindly expression, and carrying +his hand to his helmet, he saluted me, saying, in a voice of singular +sweetness,— +</p> +<p> +<i>“Je vous souhaite un meilleur sort, camarade.”</i> +</p> +<p> +I bowed, and muttering something in return, was about to make some inquiry +concerning him, when the loud call of the trumpet rang through the valley, +and apprised me that, in my interest for the prisoners, I had forgotten +all else, and was probably incurring censure for my absence. +</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> +THE REVIEW. +</p> +<p> +When I joined the group of my brother officers, who stood gayly chatting +and laughing together before our lines, I was much surprised—nay +almost shocked—to find how little seeming impression had been made +upon them, by the sad duty we had performed that morning. +</p> +<p> +When last we met, each eye was downcast, each heart was full,—sorrow +for him we had lost from among us forever, mingling with the awful sense +of our own uncertain tenure here, had laid its impress on each brow; but +now, scarcely an hour elapsed, and all were cheerful and elated. The last +shovelful of earth upon the grave seemed to have buried both the dead and +the mourning. And such is war, and such the temperament it forms! Events +so strikingly opposite in their character and influences succeed so +rapidly one upon another that the mind is kept in one whirl of excitement, +and at length accustoms itself to change with every phase of +circumstances; and between joy and grief, hope and despondency, enthusiasm +and depression, there is neither breadth nor interval,—they follow +each other as naturally as morning succeeds to night. +</p> +<p> +I had not much time for such reflections; scarcely had I saluted the +officers about me, when the loud prolonged roll of the drums along the +line of infantry in the valley, followed by the sharp clatter of muskets +as they were raised to the shoulder, announced the troops were under arms, +and the review begun. +</p> +<p> +“Have you seen the general order this morning, Power?” inquired an old +officer beside me. +</p> +<p> +“No; they say, however, that ours are mentioned.” + </p> +<p> +“Harvey is going on favorably,” cried a young cornet, as he galloped up to +our party. +</p> +<p> +“Take ground to the left!” sung out the clear voice of the colonel, as he +rode along in front. “Fourteenth, I am happy to inform you that your +conduct has met approval in the highest quarter. I have just received the +general orders, in which this occurs:— +</p> +<p> +“‘THE TIMELY PASSAGE OF THE DOURO, AND SUBSEQUENT MOVEMENTS UPON THE +ENEMY’S FLANK, BY LIEUTENANT-GENERAL SHERBROKE, WITH THE GUARDS AND 29TH +REGIMENT, AND THE BRAVERY OF THE TWO SQUADRONS OF THE 14TH LIGHT DRAGOONS, +UNDER THE COMMAND OF MAJOR HARVEY, AND LED BY THE HONORABLE +BRIGADIER-GENERAL CHARLES STEWART, OBTAINED THE VICTORY’—Mark that, +my lads! obtained the victory—‘WHICH HAS CONTRIBUTED SO MUCH TO THE +HONOR OF THE TROOPS ON THIS DAY.’” + </p> +<p> +The words were hardly spoken, when a tremendous cheer burst from the whole +line at once. +</p> +<p> +“Steady, Fourteenth! steady, lads!” said the gallant old colonel, as he +raised his hand gently; “the staff is approaching.” + </p> +<p> +At the same moment, the white plumes appeared, rising above the brow of +the hill. On they came, glittering in all the splendor of aignillettes and +orders; all save one. He rode foremost, upon a small, compact, black +horse; his dress, a plain gray frock fastened at the waist by a red sash; +his cocked hat alone bespoke, in its plume, the general officer. He +galloped rapidly on till he came to the centre of the line; then turning +short round, he scanned the ranks from end to end with an eagle glance. +</p> +<p> +“Colonel Merivale, you have made known to your regiment my opinion of +them, as expressed in general orders?” + </p> +<p> +The colonel bowed low in acquiescence. +</p> +<p> +“Fitzroy, you have got the memorandum, I hope?” + </p> +<p> +The aide-de-camp here presented to Sir Arthur a slip of paper, which he +continued to regard attentively for some minutes. +</p> +<p> +“Captain Powel,—Power, I mean. Captain Power!” + </p> +<p> +Power rode out from the line. +</p> +<p> +“Your very distinguished conduct yesterday has been reported to me. I +shall have sincere pleasure in forwarding your name for the vacant +majority. +</p> +<p> +“You have forgotten, Colonel Merivale, to send in the name of the officer +who saved General Laborde’s life.” + </p> +<p> +“I believe I have mentioned it, Sir Arthur,” said the colonel: “Mr. +O’Malley.” + </p> +<p> +“True, I beg pardon; so you have—Mr. O’Malley; a very young officer +indeed,—ha, an Irishman! The south of Ireland, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir, the west.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, yes! Well, Mr. O’Malley, you are promoted. You have the lieutenancy +in your own regiment. By-the-bye, Merivale,” here his voice changed into a +half-laughing tone, “ere I forget it, pray let me beg of you to look into +this honest fellow’s claim; he has given me no peace the entire morning.” + </p> +<p> +As he spoke, I turned my eyes in the direction he pointed, and to my utter +consternation, beheld my man Mickey Free standing among the staff, the +position he occupied, and the presence he stood in, having no more +perceptible effect upon his nerves than if he were assisting at an Irish +wake; but so completely was I overwhelmed with shame at the moment, that +the staff were already far down the lines ere I recovered my +self-possession, to which, certainly, I was in some degree recalled by +Master Mike’s addressing me in a somewhat imploring voice:— +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, spake for me, Master Charles, alanah; sure they might do something +for me now, av it was only to make me a ganger.” + </p> +<p> +Mickey’s ideas of promotion, thus insinuatingly put forward, threw the +whole party around us into one burst of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“I have him down there,” said he, pointing, as he spoke, to a thick grove +of cork-trees at a little distance. +</p> +<p> +“Who have you got there, Mike?” inquired Power. +</p> +<p> +“Devil a one o’ me knows his name,” replied he; “may be it’s Bony +himself.” + </p> +<p> +“And how do you know he’s there still?” + </p> +<p> +“How do I know, is it? Didn’t I tie him last night?” + </p> +<p> +Curiosity to find out what Mickey could possibly allude to, induced Power +and myself to follow him down the slope to the clump of trees I have +mentioned. As we came near, the very distinct denunciations that issued +from the thicket proved pretty clearly the nature of the affair. It was +nothing less than a French officer of cavalry that Mike had unhorsed in +the <i>mêlée</i>, and wishing, probably, to preserve some testimony of his +prowess, had made prisoner, and tied fast to a cork-tree, the preceding +evening. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Sacrebleu!</i>” said the poor Frenchman, as we approached, “<i>ce sont +des sauvages!</i>” + </p> +<p> +“Av it’s making your sowl ye are,” said Mike, “you’re right; for may be +they won’t let me keep you alive.” + </p> +<p> +Mike’s idea of a tame prisoner threw me into a fit of laughing, while +Power asked,— +</p> +<p> +“And what do you want to do with him, Mickey?” + </p> +<p> +“The sorra one o’ me knows, for he spakes no dacent tongue. Thighum thu,” + said he, addressing the prisoner, with a poke in the ribs at the same +moment. “But sure, Master Charles, he might tache me French.” + </p> +<p> +There was something so irresistibly ludicrous in his tone and look as he +said these words, that both Power and myself absolutely roared with +laughter. We began, however, to feel not a little ashamed of our position +in the business, and explained to the Frenchman that our worthy countryman +had but little experience in the usages of war, while we proceeded to +unbind him and liberate him from his miserable bondage. +</p> +<p> +“It’s letting him loose, you are, Captain? Master Charles, take care. +Be-gorra, av you had as much trouble in catching him as I had, you’d think +twice about letting him out. Listen to me, now,” here he placed his closed +fist within an inch of the poor prisoner’s nose,—“listen to me! Av +you say peas, by the morreal, I’ll not lave a whole bone in your skin.” + </p> +<p> +With some difficulty we persuaded Mike that his conduct, so far from +leading to his promotion, might, if known in another quarter, procure him +an acquaintance with the provost-marshal; a fact which, it was plain to +perceive, gave him but a very poor impression of military gratitude. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, then, if they were in swarms fornent me, devil receave the prisoner +I’ll take again!” + </p> +<p> +So saying, he slowly returned to the regiment; while Power and I, having +conducted the Frenchman to the rear, cantered towards the town to learn +the news of the day. +</p> +<p> +The city on that day presented a most singular aspect. The streets, filled +with the town’s-people and the soldiery, were decorated with flags and +garlands; the cafés were crowded with merry groups, and the sounds of +music and laughter resounded on all sides. The houses seemed to be quite +inadequate to afford accommodation to the numerous guests; and in +consequence, bullock cars and forage; wagons were converted into temporary +hotels, and many a jovial party were collected in both. Military music, +church bells, drinking choruses, were all commingled in the din and +turmoil; processions in honor of “Our Lady of Succor” were jammed up among +bacchanalian orgies, and their very chant half drowned in the cries of the +wounded as they passed on to the hospitals. With difficulty we pushed our +way through the dense mob, as we turned our steps towards the seminary. We +both felt naturally curious to see the place where our first detachment +landed, and to examine the opportunities of defence it presented. The +building itself was a large and irregular one of an oblong form, +surrounded by a high wall of solid masonry, the only entrance being by a +heavy iron gate. +</p> +<p> +At this spot the battle appeared to have raged with violence; one side of +the massive gate was torn from its hinges and lay flat upon the ground; +the walls were breached in many places; and pieces of torn uniforms, +broken bayonets, and bruised shakos attested that the conflict was a close +one. The seminary itself was in a falling state; the roof, from which +Paget had given his orders, and where he was wounded, had fallen in. The +French cannon had fissured the building from top to bottom, and it seemed +only awaiting the slightest impulse to crumble into ruin. When we regarded +the spot, and examined the narrow doorway which opening upon a flight of a +few steps to the river, admitted our first party, we could not help +feeling struck anew with the gallantry of that mere handful of brave +fellows who thus threw themselves amidst the overwhelming legions of the +enemy, and at once, without waiting for a single reinforcement, opened a +fire upon their ranks. Bold as the enterprise unquestionably was, we still +felt with what consummate judgment it had been planned; a bend of the +river concealed entirely the passage of the troops, the guns of the +Sierras covered their landing and completely swept one approach to the +seminary. The French, being thus obliged to attack by the gate, were +compelled to make a considerable <i>détour</i> before they reached it, all +of which gave time for our divisions to cross; while the brigade of +Guards, under General Sherbroke, profiting by the confusion, passed the +river below the town, and took the enemy unexpectedly in the rear. +</p> +<p> +Brief as was the struggle within the town, it must have been a terrific +one. The artillery were firing at musket range; cavalry and infantry were +fighting hand to hand in narrow streets, a destructive musketry pouring +all the while from windows and house-tops. +</p> +<p> +At the Amarante gate, where the French defiled, the carnage was also +great. Their light artillery unlimbered some guns here to cover the +columns as they deployed, but Murray’s cavalry having carried these, the +flank of the infantry became entirely exposed to the galling fire of +small-arms from the seminary, and the far more destructive shower of grape +that poured unceasingly from the Sierra. +</p> +<p> +Our brigade did the rest; and in less than one hour from the landing of +the first man, the French were in full retreat upon Vallonga. +</p> +<p> +“A glorious thing, Charley,” said Power, after a pause, “and a proud +souvenir for hereafter.” + </p> +<p> +A truth I felt deeply at the time, and one my heart responds to not less +fully as I am writing. +</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> +THE QUARREL. +</p> +<p> +On the evening of the 12th, orders were received for the German brigade +and three squadrons of our regiment to pursue the French upon the +Terracinthe road by daybreak on the following morning. +</p> +<p> +I was busily occupied in my preparations for a hurried march when Mike +came up to say that an officer desired to speak with me; and the moment +after Captain Hammersley appeared. A sudden flush colored his pale and +sickly features, as he held out his hand and said,— +</p> +<p> +“I’ve come to wish you joy, O’Malley. I just this instant heard of your +promotion. I am sincerely glad of it; pray tell me the whole affair.” + </p> +<p> +“That is the very thing I am unable to do. I have some very vague, +indistinct remembrance of warding off a sabre-cut from the head of a +wounded and unhorsed officer in the <i>mêlée</i> of yesterday, but more I +know not. In fact, it was my first duty under fire. I’ve a tolerably clear +recollection of all the events of the morning, but the word ‘Charge!’ once +given, I remember very little more. But you, where have you been? How have +we not met before?” + </p> +<p> +“I’ve exchanged into a heavy dragoon regiment, and am now employed upon +the staff.” + </p> +<p> +“You are aware that I have letters for you?” + </p> +<p> +“Power hinted, I think, something of the kind. I saw him very hurriedly.” + </p> +<p> +These words were spoken with an effort at <i>nonchalance</i> that +evidently cost him much. +</p> +<p> +As for me, my agitation was scarcely less, as fumbling for some seconds in +my portmanteau, I drew forth the long destined packet. As I placed it in +his hands, he grew deadly pale, and a slight spasmodic twitch in his upper +lip bespoke some unnatural struggle. He broke the seal suddenly, and as he +did so, the morocco case of a miniature fell upon the ground; his eyes ran +rapidly across the letter; the livid color of his lips as the blood forced +itself to them added to the corpse-like hue of his countenance. +</p> +<p> +“You, probably, are aware of the contents of this letter, Mr. O’Malley,” + said he, in an altered voice, whose tones, half in anger, half in +suppressed irony, cut to my very heart. +</p> +<p> +“I am in complete ignorance of them,” said I, calmly. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed, sir!” replied he, with a sarcastic curl of his mouth as he spoke. +“Then, perhaps, you will tell me, too, that your very success is a secret +to you—” + </p> +<p> +“I’m really not aware—” + </p> +<p> +“You think, probably, sir, that the pastime is an amusing one, to +interfere where the affections of others are concerned. I’ve heard of you, +sir. Your conduct at Lisbon is known to me; and though Captain Trevyllian +may bear—” + </p> +<p> +“Stop, Captain Hammersley!” said I, with a tremendous effort to be calm,—“stop! +You have said enough, quite enough, to convince me of what your object was +in seeking me here to-day. You shall not be disappointed. I trust that +assurance will save you from any further display of temper.” + </p> +<p> +“I thank you, most humbly I thank you for the quickness of your +apprehension; and I shall now take my leave. Good-evening, Mr. O’Malley. I +wish you much joy; you have my very fullest congratulations upon <i>all</i> +your good fortune.” + </p> +<p> +The sneering emphasis the last words were spoken with remained fixed in my +mind long after he took his departure; and, indeed, so completely did the +whole seem like a dream to me that were it not for the fragments of the +miniature that lay upon the ground where he had crushed them with his +heel, I could scarcely credit myself that I was awake. +</p> +<p> +My first impulse was to seek Power, upon whose judgment and discretion I +could with confidence rely. +</p> +<p> +I had not long to wait; for scarcely had I thrown my cloak around me, when +he rode up. He had just seen, Hammersley, and learned something of our +interview. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Charley, my dear fellow, what is this? How have you treated poor +Hammersley?” + </p> +<p> +“Treated <i>him</i>! Say, rather, how has he treated <i>me!</i>” + </p> +<p> +I here entered into a short but accurate account of our meeting, during +which Power listened with great composure; while I could perceive, from +the questions he asked, that some very different impression had been +previously made upon his mind. +</p> +<p> +“And this was all that passed?” + </p> +<p> +“All.” + </p> +<p> +“But what of the business at Lisbon?” + </p> +<p> +“I don’t understand.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, he speaks,—he has heard some foolish account of your having +made some ridiculous speech there about your successful rivalry of him in +Ireland. Lucy Dashwood, I suppose, is referred to. Some one has been +good-natured enough to repeat the thing to him.” + </p> +<p> +“But it never occurred. I never did.” + </p> +<p> +“Are you sure, Charley?” + </p> +<p> +“I am sure. I know I never did.” + </p> +<p> +“The poor fellow! He has been duped. Come, Charley, you must not take it +ill. Poor Hammersley has never recovered a sabre-wound he received some +months since upon the head; his intellect is really affected by it. Leave +it all to me. Promise not to leave your quarters till I return, and I’ll +put everything right again.” + </p> +<p> +I gave the required pledge; while Power, springing into the saddle, left +me to my own reflections. +</p> +<p> +My frame of mind as Power left me was by no means an enviable one. A +quarrel is rarely a happy incident in a man’s life, still less is it so +when the difference arises with one we are disposed to like and respect. +Such was Hammersley. His manly, straightforward character had won my +esteem and regard, and it was with no common scrutiny I taxed my memory to +think what could have given rise to the impression he labored under of my +having injured him. His chance mention of Trevyllian suggested to me some +suspicion that his dislike of me, wherefore arising I knew not, might have +its share in the matter; and in this state of doubt and uncertainty I +paced impatiently up and down, anxiously watching for Power’s return in +the hope of at length getting some real insight into the difficulty. +</p> +<p> +My patience was fast ebbing, Power had been absent above an hour, and no +appearance of him could I detect, when suddenly the tramp of a horse came +rapidly up the hill. I looked out and saw a rider coming forward at a very +fast pace. Before I had time for even a guess as to who it was, he drew +up, and I recognized Captain Trevyllian. There was a certain look of easy +impertinence and half-smiling satisfaction about his features I had never +seen before, as he touched his cap in salute, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“May I have the honor of a few words’ conversation with you?” + </p> +<p> +I bowed silently, while he dismounted, and passing his bridle beneath his +arm, walked on beside me. +</p> +<p> +“My friend Captain Hammersley has commissioned me to wait upon you about +this unpleasant affair—” + </p> +<p> +“I beg pardon for the interruption, Captain Trevyllian, but as I have yet +to learn to what you or your friend alludes, perhaps it may facilitate +matters if you will explicitly state your meaning.” + </p> +<p> +He grew crimson on the cheek as I said this, while, with a voice perfectly +unmoved, he continued,— +</p> +<p> +“I am not sufficiently in my friend’s confidence to know the whole of the +affair in question, nor have I his permission to enter into any of it, he +probably presuming, as I certainly did myself, that your sense of honor +would have deemed further parley and discussion both unnecessary and +unseasonable.” + </p> +<p> +“In fact, then, if I understand, it is expected that I should meet Captain +Hammersley for some reason unknown—” + </p> +<p> +“He certainly desires a meeting with you,” was the dry reply. +</p> +<p> +“And as certainly I shall not give it, before understanding upon what +grounds.” + </p> +<p> +“And such I am to report as your answer?” said he, looking at me at the +moment with an expression of ill-repressed triumph as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +There was something in these few words, as well as in the tone in which +they were spoken, that sunk deeply in my heart. Was it that by some trick +of diplomacy he was endeavoring to compromise my honor and character? Was +it possible that my refusal might be construed into any other than the +real cause? I was too young, too inexperienced in the world to decide the +question for myself, and no time was allowed me to seek another’s counsel. +What a trying moment was that for me; my temples throbbed, my heart beat +almost audibly, and I stood afraid to speak; dreading on the one hand lest +my compliance might involve me in an act to embitter my life forever, and +fearful on the other, that my refusal might be reported as a trait of +cowardice. +</p> +<p> +He saw, he read my difficulty at a glance, and with a smile of most +supercilious expression, repeated coolly his former question. In an +instant all thought of Hammersley was forgotten. I remembered no more. I +saw him before me, he who had, since my first meeting, continually +contrived to pass some inappreciable slight upon me. My eyes flashed, my +hands tingled with ill-repressed rage, as I said,— +</p> +<p> +“With Captain Hammersley I am conscious of no quarrel, nor have I ever +shown by any act or look an intention to provoke one. Indeed, such +demonstrations are not always successful; there are persons most rigidly +scrupulous for a friend’s honor, little disposed to guard their own.” + </p> +<p> +“You mistake,” said he, interrupting me, as I spoke these words with a +look as insulting as I could make it,—“you mistake. I have sworn a +solemn oath never to <i>send</i> a challenge.” + </p> +<p> +The emphasis upon the word “send,” explained fully his meaning, when I +said,— +</p> +<p> +“But you will not decline—” + </p> +<p> +“Most certainly not,” said he, again interrupting, while with sparkling +eye and elated look he drew himself up to his full height. “Your friend is—” + </p> +<p> +“Captain Power; and yours—” + </p> +<p> +“Sir Harry Beaufort. I may observe that, as the troops are in marching +order, the matter had better not be delayed.” + </p> +<p> +“There shall be none on my part.” + </p> +<p> +“Nor mine!” said he, as with a low bow and a look of most ineffable +triumph, he sprang into his saddle; then, “<i>Au revoir</i>, Mr. +O’Malley,” said he, gathering up his reins. “Beaufort is on the staff, and +quartered at Oporto.” So saying, he cantered easily down the slope, and +once more I was alone. +</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> +THE ROUTE CONTINUED. +</p> +<p> +I was leisurely examining my pistols,—poor Considine’s last present +to me on leaving home,—when an orderly sergeant rode up, and +delivered into my hands the following order:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Lieutenant O’Malley will hold himself in immediate readiness to +proceed on a particular service. By order of his Excellency the +Commander of the Forces. +[Signed] S. GORDON, Military Secretary. +</pre> +<p> +“What can this mean?” thought I. “It is not possible that any rumor of my +intended meeting could have got abroad, and that my present destination +could be intended as a punishment?” + </p> +<p> +I walked hurriedly to the door of the little hut which formed my quarters; +below me in the plain, all was activity and preparation, the infantry were +drawn up in marching order, baggage wagons, ordnance stores, and artillery +seemed all in active preparation, and some cavalry squadrons might be +already seen with forage allowances behind the saddle, as if only waiting +the order to set out. I strained my eyes to see if Power was coming, but +no horseman approached in the direction. I stood, and I hesitated whether +I should not rather seek him at once, than continue to wait on in my +present uncertainty; but then, what if I should miss him? And I had +pledged myself to remain till he returned. +</p> +<p> +While I deliberated thus with myself, weighing the various chances for and +against each plan, I saw two mounted officers coming towards me at a brisk +trot. As they came nearer, I recognized one as my colonel, the other was +an officer of the staff. +</p> +<p> +Supposing that their mission had some relation to the order I had so +lately received, and which until now I had forgotten, I hastily returned +and ordered Mike to my presence. +</p> +<p> +“How are the horses, Mike?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Never better, sir. Badger was wounded slightly by a spent shot in the +counter, but he’s never the worse this morning, and the black horse is +capering like a filly.” + </p> +<p> +“Get ready my pack, feed the cattle, and be prepared to set out at a +moment’s warning.” + </p> +<p> +“Good advice, O’Malley,” said the colonel, as he overheard the last +direction to my servant. “I hope the nags are in condition?” + </p> +<p> +“Why yes, sir, I believe they are.” + </p> +<p> +“All the better; you’ve a sharp ride before you. Meanwhile let me +introduce my friend; Captain Beaumont, Mr. O’Malley. I think we had better +be seated.” + </p> +<p> +“These are your instructions, Mr. O’Malley,” said Captain Beaumont, +unfolding a map as he spoke. “You will proceed from this with half a troop +of our regiment by forced marches towards the frontier, passing through +the town of Calenco and Guarda and the Estrella pass. On arriving at the +headquarters of the Lusitanian Legion, which you will find there, you are +to put yourself under the orders of Major Monsoon, commanding that force. +Any Portuguese cavalry he may have with him will be attached to yours and +under your command; your rank for the time being that of captain. You +will, as far as possible, acquaint yourself with the habits and +capabilities of the native cavalry, and make such report as you judge +necessary thereupon to his Excellency the commander of the forces. I think +it only fair to add that you are indebted to my friend Colonel Merivale +for the very flattering position thus opened to your skill and +enterprise.” + </p> +<p> +“My dear Colonel, let me assure you—” + </p> +<p> +“Not a word, my boy. I knew the thing would suit you, and I am sure I can +count upon your not disappointing my expectations of you. Sir Arthur +perfectly remembers your name. He only asked two questions,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Is he well mounted?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Admirably,’ was my answer. +</p> +<p> +“‘Can you depend upon his promptitude?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘He’ll leave in half an hour.’ “So you see, O’Malley, I have already +pledged myself for you. And now I must say adieu; the regiments are about +to take up a more advanced position, so good-by. I hope you’ll have a +pleasant time of it till we meet again.” + </p> +<p> +“It is now twelve o’clock, Mr. O’Malley,” said Beaumont; “we may rely upon +your immediate departure. Your written instructions and despatches will be +here within a quarter of an hour.” + </p> +<p> +I muttered something,—what, I cannot remember; I bowed my thanks to +my worthy colonel, shook his hand warmly, and saw him ride down the hill +and disappear in the crowd of soldiery beneath, before I could recall my +faculties and think over my situation. +</p> +<p> +Then all at once did the full difficulty of my position break upon me. If +I accepted my present employment I must certainly fail in my engagement to +Trevyllian. But I had already pledged myself to its acceptance. What was +to be done? No time was left for deliberation. The very minutes I should +have spent in preparation were fast passing. Would that Power might +appear! Alas, he came not! My state of doubt and uncertainty increased +every moment; I saw nothing but ruin before me, even at a moment when +fortune promised most fairly for the future, and opened a field of +enterprise my heart had so often and so ardently desired. Nothing was left +me but to hasten to Colonel Merivale and decline my appointment; to do so +was to prejudice my character in his estimation forever, for I dared not +allege my reasons, and in all probability my conduct might require my +leaving the army. +</p> +<p> +“Be it so, then,” said I, in an accent of despair; “the die is cast.” + </p> +<p> +I ordered my horse round; I wrote a few words to Power to explain my +absence should he come while I was away, and leaped into the saddle. As I +reached the plain my pace became a gallop, and I pressed my horse with all +the impatience my heart was burning with. I dashed along the lines towards +Oporto, neither hearing nor seeing aught around me, when suddenly the +clank of cavalry accoutrements behind induced me to turn my head, and I +perceived an orderly dragoon at full gallop in pursuit. I pulled up till +he came alongside. +</p> +<p> +“Lieutenant O’Malley, sir,” said the man, saluting, “these despatches are +for you.” + </p> +<p> +I took them hurriedly, and was about to continue my route, when the +attitude of the dragoon arrested my attention. He had reined in his horse +to the side of the narrow causeway, and holding him still and steadily, +sat motionless as a statue. I looked behind and saw the whole staff +approaching at a brisk trot. Before I had a moment for thought they were +beside me. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, O’Malley,” cried Merivale, “you have your orders; don’t wait; his +Excellency is coming up.” + </p> +<p> +“Get along, I advise you,” said another, “or you’ll catch it, as some of +us have done this morning.” + </p> +<p> +“All is right, Charley; you can go in safety,” said a whispering voice, as +Power passed in a sharp canter. +</p> +<p> +That one sentence was enough; my heart bounded like a deer, my cheek +beamed with the glow of delighted pleasure, I closed my spurs upon my +gallant gray and dashed across the plain. +</p> +<p> +When I arrived at my quarters the men were drawn up in waiting, and +provided with rations for three days’ march; Mike was also prepared for +the road, and nothing more remained to delay me. +</p> +<p> +“Captain Power has been here, sir, and left a note.” + </p> +<p> +I took it and thrust it hastily into my sabretasche. I knew from the few +words he had spoken that my present step involved me in no ill +consequences; so giving the word to wheel into column, I rode to the front +and set out upon my march to Alcantara. +</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> +THE WATCH-FIRE. +</p> +<p> +There are few things so inspiriting to a young soldier as the being +employed with a separate command; the picket and outpost duty have a charm +for him no other portion of his career possesses. The field seems open for +individual boldness and heroism; success, if obtained, must redound to his +own credit; and what can equal, in its spirit-stirring enthusiasm, that +first moment when we become in any way the arbiter of our own fortunes? +</p> +<p> +Such were my happy thoughts, as with a proud and elated heart I set forth +upon my march. The notice the commander-in-chief had bestowed upon me had +already done much; it had raised me in my own estimation, and implanted +within me a longing desire for further distinction. I thought, too, of +those far, far away, who were yet to hear of my successes. +</p> +<p> +I fancied to myself how they would severally receive the news. My poor +uncle, with tearful eye and quivering lip, was before me, as I saw him +read the despatch, then wipe his glasses, and read on, till at last, with +one long-drawn breath, his manly voice, tremulous with emotion, would +break forth: “My boy! my own Charley!” Then I pictured Considine, with +port erect and stern features, listening silently; not a syllable, not a +motion betraying that he felt interested in my fate, till as if impatient, +at length he would break in: “I knew it,—I said so; and yet you +thought to make him a lawyer!” And then old Sir Harry, his warm heart +glowing with pleasure, and his good-humored face beaming with happiness, +how many a blunder he would make in retailing the news, and how many a +hearty laugh his version of it would give rise to! +</p> +<p> +I passed in review before me the old servants, as they lingered in the +room to hear the story. Poor old Matthew, the butler, fumbling with his +corkscrew to gain a little time; then looking in my uncle’s face, half +entreatingly, as he asked: “Any news of Master Charles, sir, from the +wars?” + </p> +<p> +While thus my mind wandered back to the scenes and faces of my early home, +I feared to ask myself how <i>she</i> would feel to whom my heart was now +turning. Too deeply did I know how poor my chances were in that quarter to +nourish hope, and yet I could not bring myself to abandon it altogether. +Hammersley’s strange conduct suggested to me that he, at least, could not +be <i>my</i> rival; while I plainly perceived that he regarded me as <i>his</i>. +There was a mystery in all this I could not fathom, and I ardently longed +for my next meeting with Power, to learn the nature of his interview, and +also in what manner the affair had been arranged. +</p> +<p> +Such were my passing thoughts as I pressed forward. My men, picked no less +for themselves than their horses, came rapidly along; and ere evening, we +had accomplished twelve leagues of our journey. +</p> +<p> +The country through which we journeyed, though wild and romantic in its +character, was singularly rich and fertile,—cultivation reaching to +the very summits of the rugged mountains, and patches of wheat and Indian +corn peeping amidst masses of granite rock and tangled brushwood. The vine +and the olive grew wild on every side; while the orange and the arbutus, +loading the air with perfume, were mingled with prickly pear-trees and +variegated hollies. We followed no regular track, but cantered along over +hill and valley, through forest and prairie, now in long file through some +tall field of waving corn, now in open order upon some level plain,—our +Portuguese guide riding a little in advance of us, upon a jet-black mule, +carolling merrily some wild Gallician melody as he went. +</p> +<p> +As the sun was setting, we arrived beside a little stream that flowing +along a rocky bed, skirted a vast forest of tall cork-trees. Here we +called a halt, and picketing our horses, proceeded to make our +arrangements for a bivouac. +</p> +<p> +Never do I remember a more lovely night. The watch-fires sent up a +delicious odor from the perfumed shrubs; while the glassy water reflected +on its still surface the starry sky that, unshadowed and unclouded, +stretched above us. I wrapped myself in my trooper’s mantle, and lay down +beneath a tree,—but not to sleep. There was a something so exciting, +and withal so tranquillizing, that I had no thought of slumber, but fell +into a musing revery. There was a character of adventure in my position +that charmed me much. My men were gathered in little groups beside the +fires; some sunk in slumber, others sat smoking silently, or chatting, in +a low undertone, of some bygone scene of battle or bivouac; here and there +were picketed the horses; the heavy panoply and piled carbines flickering +in the red glare of the watch-fires, which ever and anon threw a flitting +glow upon the stern and swarthy faces of my bold troopers. Upon the trees +around, sabres and helmets, holsters and cross-belts, were hung like +armorial bearings in some antique hall, the dark foliage spreading its +heavy shadow around us. Farther off, upon a little rocky ledge, the erect +figure of the sentry, with his short carbine resting in the hollow of his +arm, was seen slowly pacing in measured tread, or standing for a moment +silently, as he looked upon the fair and tranquil sky,—his thoughts +doubtless far, far away, beyond the sea, to some humble home, where,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“The hum of the spreading sycamore, +That grew beside his cottage door,” + </pre> +<p> +was again in his ears, while the merry laugh of his children stirred his +bold heart. It was a Salvator-Rosa scene, and brought me back in fancy to +the bandit legends I had read in boyhood. By the uncertain light of the +wood embers I endeavored to sketch the group that lay before me. +</p> +<p> +The night wore on. One by one the soldiers stretched themselves to sleep, +and all was still. As the hours rolled by a drowsy feeling crept gradually +over me. I placed my pistols by my side, and having replenished the fire +by some fresh logs, disposed myself comfortably before it. +</p> +<p> +It was during that half-dreamy state that intervenes between waking and +sleep that a rustling sound of the branches behind attracted my attention. +The air was too calm to attribute this to the wind, so I listened for some +minutes; but sleep, too long deferred, was over-powerful, and my head sank +upon my grassy pillow, and I was soon sound asleep. How long I remained +thus, I know not; but I awoke suddenly. I fancied some one had shaken me +rudely by the shoulder; but yet all was tranquil. My men were sleeping +soundly as I saw them last. The fires were becoming low, and a gray streak +in the sky, as well as a sharp cold feeling of the air, betokened the +approach of day. Once more I heaped some dry branches together, and was +again about to stretch myself to rest, when I felt a hand upon my +shoulder. I turned quickly round, and by the imperfect light of the fire, +saw the figure of a man standing motionless beside me; his head was bare, +and his hair fell in long curls upon his shoulders; one hand was pressed +upon his bosom, and with the other he motioned me to silence. My first +impression was that our party were surprised by some French patrol; but as +I looked again, I recognized, to my amazement, that the individual before +me was the young French officer I had seen that morning a prisoner beside +the Douro. +</p> +<p> +“How came you here?” said I, in a low voice, to him in French. +</p> +<p> +“Escaped; one of my own men threw himself between me and the sentry; I +swam the Douro, received a musket-ball through my arm, lost my shako, and +here I am!” + </p> +<p> +“You are aware you are again a prisoner?” + </p> +<p> +“If you desire it, of course I am,” said he, in a voice full of feeling +that made my very heart creep. “I thought you were a party of Lorge’s +Dragoons, scouring the country for forage; tracked you the entire day, and +have only now come up with you.” + </p> +<p> +The poor fellow, who had neither eaten nor drunk since daybreak, wounded +and footsore, had accomplished twelve leagues of a march only once more to +fall into the hands of his enemies. His years could scarcely have numbered +nineteen; his countenance was singularly prepossessing; and though +bleeding and torn, with tattered uniform, and without a covering to his +head, there was no mistaking for a moment that he was of gentle blood. +Noiselessly and cautiously I made him sit down beside the fire, while I +spread before him the sparing remnant of my last night’s supper, and +shared my solitary bottle of sherry with him. +</p> +<p> +From the moment he spoke, I never entertained a thought of making him a +prisoner; but as I knew not how far I was culpable in permitting, if not +actually facilitating, his escape, I resolved to keep the circumstance a +secret from my party, and if possible, get him away before daybreak. +</p> +<p> +No sooner did he learn my intentions regarding him, than in an instant all +memory of his past misfortune, all thoughts of his present destitute +condition, seemed to have fled; and while I dressed his wound and bound up +his shattered arm, he chattered away as unconcernedly about the past and +the future as though seated beside the fire of his own bivouac, and +surrounded by his own brother officers. +</p> +<p> +“You took us by surprise the other day,” said he. “Our marshal looked for +the attack from the mouth of the river; we received information that your +ships were expected there. In any case, our retreat was an orderly one, +and must have been effected with slight loss.” + </p> +<p> +I smiled at the self-complacency of this reasoning, but did not contradict +him. +</p> +<p> +“Your loss must indeed have been great; your men crossed under the fire of +a whole battery.” + </p> +<p> +“Not exactly,” said I; “our first party were quietly stationed in Oporto +before you knew anything about it.” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Ah, sacré Dieu!</i> Treachery!” cried he, striking his forehead with +his clinched fist. +</p> +<p> +“Not so; mere daring,—nothing more. But come, tell me something of +your own adventures. How were you taken?” + </p> +<p> +“Simply thus,—I was sent to the rear with orders to the artillery to +cut their traces, and leave the guns; and when coming back, my horse grew +tired in the heavy ground, and I was spurring him to the utmost, when one +of your heavy dragoons—an officer, too—dashed at me, and +actually rode me down, horse and all. I lay for some time bruised by the +fall, when an infantry soldier passing by seized me by the collar, and +brought me to the rear. No matter, however, here I am now. You will not +give me up; and perhaps I may one day live to repay the kindness.” + </p> +<p> +“You have not long joined?” + </p> +<p> +“It was my first battle; my epaulettes were very smart things yesterday, +though they do look a little <i>passés</i> to-day. You are advancing, I +suppose?” + </p> +<p> +I smiled without answering this question. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, I see you don’t wish to speak. Never mind, your discretion is thrown +away upon me; for if I rejoined my regiment to-morrow, I should have +forgotten all you told me,—all but your great kindness.” These last +words he spoke, bowing slightly his head, and coloring as he said them. +</p> +<p> +“You are a dragoon, I think?” said I, endeavoring to change the topic. +</p> +<p> +“I was, two days ago, <i>chasseur à cheval</i>, a sous-lieutenant, in the +regiment of my father, the General St. Croix.” + </p> +<p> +“The name is familiar to me,” I replied, “and I am sincerely happy to be +in a position to serve the son of so distinguished an officer.” + </p> +<p> +“The son of so distinguished an officer is most deeply obliged, but wishes +with all his heart and soul he had never sought glory under such very +excellent auspices. You look surprised, <i>mon cher</i>; but let me tell +you, my military ardor is considerably abated in the last three days. +Hunger, thirst, imprisonment, and this”—lifting his wounded limb as +he spoke—“are sharp lessons in so short a campaign, and for one too, +whose life hitherto had much more of ease than adventure to boast of. +Shall I tell you how I became a soldier?” + </p> +<p> +“By all means; give me your glass first; and now, with a fresh log to the +fire, I’m your man.” + </p> +<p> +“But stay; before I begin, look to this.” + </p> +<p> +The blood was flowing rapidly from his wound, which with some difficulty I +succeeded in stanching. He drank off his wine hastily, held out his glass +to be refilled, and then began his story. +</p> +<p> +“You have never seen the Emperor?” + </p> +<p> +“Never.” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Sacrebleu!</i> What a man he is! I’d rather stand under the fire of +your grenadiers, than meet his eye. When in a passion, he does not say +much, it is true; but what he does, comes with a kind of hissing, rushing +sound, while the very fire seems to kindle in his look. I have him before +me this instant, and though you will confess that my present condition has +nothing very pleasing in it, I should be sorry indeed to change it for the +last time I stood in his presence. +</p> +<p> +“Two months ago I sported the gay light-blue and silver of a page to the +Emperor, and certainly, what with balls, <i>bonbons</i>, flirtation, +gossip, and champagne suppers, led a very gay, reckless, and indolent life +of it. Somehow,—I may tell you more accurately at another period, if +we ever meet,—I got myself into disgrace, and as a punishment, was +ordered to absent myself from the Tuileries, and retire for some weeks to +Fontainebleau. Siberia to a Russian would scarcely be a heavier infliction +than was this banishment to me. There was no court, no levee, no military +parade, no ball, no opera. A small household of the Emperor’s chosen +servants quietly kept house there. The gloomy walls re-echoed to no music; +the dark alleys of the dreary garden seemed the very impersonation of +solitude and decay. Nothing broke the dull monotony of the tiresome day, +except when occasionally, near sunset, the clash of the guard would be +heard turning out, and the clank of presenting arms, followed by the roll +of a heavy carriage into the gloomy courtyard. One lamp, shining like a +star, in a small chamber on the second floor, would remain till near four, +sometimes five o’clock in the morning. The same sounds of the guard and +the same dull roll of the carriage would break the stillness of the early +morning; and the Emperor—for it was he—would be on his road +back to Paris. +</p> +<p> +“We never saw him,—I say we, for like myself some half-dozen others +were also there, expiating their follies by a life of cheerless <i>ennui</i>. +</p> +<p> +“It was upon a calm evening in April, we sat together chatting over the +various misdeeds which had consigned us to exile, when some one proposed, +by way of passing the time, that we should visit the small flower-garden +that was parted off from the rest, and reserved for the Emperor alone. It +was already beyond the hour he usually came; besides that, even should he +arrive, there was abundant time to get back before he could possibly reach +it. The garden we had often seen, but there was something in the fact that +our going there was a transgression that so pleased us all that we agreed +at once and set forth. For above an hour we loitered about the lonely and +deserted walks, where already the Emperor’s foot-tracks had worn a marked +pathway, when we grew weary and were about to return, just as one of the +party suggested, half in ridicule of the sanctity of the spot, that we +should have a game of leap-frog ere we left it. The idea pleased us and +was at once adopted. Our plan was this,—each person stationed +himself in some by-walk or alley, and waited till the other, whose turn it +was, came and leaped over him; so that, besides the activity displayed, +there was a knowledge of the <i>locale</i> necessary; for to any one +passed over a forfeit was to be paid. Our game began at once, and +certainly I doubt if ever those green alleys and shady groves rang to such +hearty laughter. Here would be seen a couple rolling over together on the +grass; there some luckless wight counting out his pocket-money to pay his +penalty. The hours passed quietly over, and the moon rose, and at last it +came to my turn to make the tour of the garden. As I was supposed to know +all its intricacies better than the rest, a longer time was given for them +to conceal themselves; at length the word was given, and I started. +</p> +<p> +“Anxious to acquit myself well, I hurried along at top speed, but guess my +surprise to discover that nowhere could I find one of my companions. Down +one walk I scampered, up another, across a third, but all was still and +silent; not a sound, not a breath, could I detect. There was still one +part of the garden unexplored; it was a small open space before a little +pond which usually contained the gold fish the Emperor was so fond of. +Thither I bent my steps, and had not gone far when in the pale moonlight I +saw, at length, one of my companions waiting patiently for my coming, his +head bent forward and his shoulders rounded. Anxious to repay him for my +own disappointment, I crept silently forward on tiptoe till quite near +him, when, rushing madly on, I sprang upon his back; just, however, as I +rose to leap over, he raised his head, and, staggered by the impulse of my +spring, he was thrown forward, and after an ineffectual effort to keep his +legs fell flat upon his face in the grass. Bursting with laughter, I fell +over him on the ground, and was turning to assist him, when suddenly he +sprang upon his feet, and—horror of horrors!—it was Napoleon +himself; his usually pale features were purple with rage, but not a word, +not a syllable escaped him. +</p> +<p> +“‘<i>Qui êtes vous</i>?’ said he, at length. +</p> +<p> +“‘St. Croix, Sire,’ said I, still kneeling before him, while my very heart +leaped into my mouth. +</p> +<p> +“‘St. Croix! <i>toujours</i> St. Croix! Come here; approach me,’ cried he, +in a voice of stifled passion. +</p> +<p> +“I rose; but before I could take a step forward he sprang at me, and +tearing off my epaulettes trampled them beneath his feet, and then he +shouted out, rather than spoke, the word ‘<i>Allez!</i>’ +</p> +<p> +“I did not wait for a second intimation, but clearing the paling at a +spring, was many a mile from Fontainebleau before daybreak.” + </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 MARCH. +</p> +<p> +Twice the <i>réveil</i> sounded; the horses champed impatiently their +heavy bits; my men stood waiting for the order to mount, ere I could +arouse myself from the deep sleep I had fallen into. The young Frenchman +and his story were in my dreams, and when I awoke, his figure, as he lay +sleeping beside the wood embers, was the first object I perceived. There +he lay, to all seeming as forgetful of his fate as though he still +inhabited the gorgeous halls and gilded saloons of the Tuileries; his pale +and handsome features wore even a placid smile as, doubtless, some dream +of other days flitted across him; his long hair waved in luxurious curls +upon his neck, and his light-brown mustache, slightly curled at the top, +gave to his mild and youthful features an air of saucy <i>fierté</i> that +heightened their effect. A narrow blue ribbon which he wore round his +throat gently peeped from his open bosom. I could not resist the curiosity +I felt to see what it meant, and drawing it softly forth, I perceived that +a small miniature was attached to it. It was beautifully painted, and +surrounded with brilliants of some value. One glance showed me,—for +I had seen more than one engraving before of her,—that it was the +portrait of the Empress Josephine. Poor boy! he doubtless was a favorite +at court; indeed, everything in his air and manner bespoke him such. I +gently replaced the precious locket and turned from the spot to think over +what was best to be done for him. Knowing the vindictive feeling of the +Portuguese towards their invaders, I feared to take Pietro, our guide, +into my confidence. I accordingly summoned my man Mike to my aid, who, +with all his country’s readiness, soon found out an expedient. It was to +pretend to Pietro that the prisoner was merely an English officer who had +made his escape from the French army, in which, against his will, he had +been serving for some time. +</p> +<p> +This plan succeeded perfectly; and when St. Croix, mounted upon one of my +led horses, set out upon his march beside me, none was more profuse of his +attentions than the dark-brown guide whose hatred of a Frenchman was +beyond belief. +</p> +<p> +By thus giving him safe conduct through Portugal, I knew that when we +reached the frontier he could easily manage to come up with some part of +Marshal Victor’s force, the advanced guard of which lay on the left bank +of the Tagus. +</p> +<p> +To me the companionship was the greatest boon; the gay and buoyant spirit +that no reverse of fortune, no untoward event, could subdue, lightened +many an hour of the journey; and though at times the gasconading tone of +the Frenchman would peep through, there was still such a fund of +good-tempered raillery in all he said that it was impossible to feel angry +with him. His implicit faith in the Emperor’s invincibility also amused +me. Of the unbounded confidence of the nation in general, and the army +particularly, in Napoleon, I had till then no conception. It was not that +in the profound skill and immense resources of the general they trusted, +but they actually regarded him as one placed above all the common +accidents of fortune, and revered him as something more than human. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Il viendra et puis</i>—” was the continued exclamation of the +young Frenchman. Any notion of our successfully resisting the overwhelming +might of the Emperor, he would have laughed to scorn, and so I let him go +on prophesying our future misfortunes till the time when, driven back upon +Lisbon, we should be compelled to evacuate the Peninsula, and under favor +of a convention be permitted to return to England. All this was +sufficiently ridiculous, coming from a youth of nineteen, wounded, in +misery, a prisoner; but further experience of his nation has shown me that +St. Croix was not the exception, but the rule. The conviction in the +ultimate success of their army, whatever be the merely momentary mishap, +is the one present thought of a Frenchman; a victory with them is a +conquest; a defeat,—if they are by any chance driven to acknowledge +one,—a <i>fatalité</i>. +</p> +<p> +I was too young a man, and still more, too young a soldier, to bear with +this absurd affectation of superiority as I ought, and consequently was +glad to wander, whenever I could, from the contested point of our national +superiority to other topics. St. Croix, although young, had seen much of +the world as a page in the splendid court of the Tuileries; the scenes +passing before his eyes were calculated to make a strong impression; and +by many an anecdote of his former life, he lightened the road as we passed +along. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0427.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="A Touch at Leap-frog With Napoleon." + /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“You promised, by-the-bye, to tell me of your banishment. How did that +occur, St. Croix?” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Ah, par Dieu!</i> that was an unfortunate affair for me; then began +all my mishaps. But for that, I should never have been sent to +Fontainebleau; never have played leap-frog with the Emperor; never have +been sent a soldier into Spain. True,” said he, laughing, “I should never +have had the happiness of your acquaintance. But still, I’d much rather +have met you first in the Place des Victoires than in the Estrella +Mountains.” + </p> +<p> +“Who knows?” said I; “perhaps your good genius prevailed in all this.” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps,” said he, interrupting me; “that’s exactly what the Empress +said,—she was my godmother,—‘Jules will be a <i>Maréchal de +France yet</i>.’ But certainly, it must be confessed, I have made a bad +beginning. However, you wish to hear of my disgrace at court. <i>Allans +donc</i>. But had we not better wait for a halt?” + </p> +<p> +“Agreed,” said I; “and so let us now press forward.” + </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> +THE PAGE. +</p> +<p> +Under the deep shade of some tall trees, sheltered from the noonday sun, +we lay down to rest ourselves and enjoy a most patriarchal dinner,—some +dry biscuits, a few bunches of grapes, and a little weak wine, savoring +more of the borachio-skin than the vine-juice, were all we boasted; yet +they were not ungrateful at such a time and place. +</p> +<p> +“Whose health did you pledge then?” inquired St. Croix, with a +half-malicious smile, as I raised the glass silently to my lips. +</p> +<p> +I blushed deeply, and looked confused. +</p> +<p> +“<i>A ses beux yeux!</i> whoever she be,” said he, gayly tossing off his +wine; “and now, if you feel disposed, I’ll tell you my story. In good +truth, it is not worth relating, but it may serve to set you asleep, at +all events. +</p> +<p> +“I have already told you I was a page. Alas, the impressions you may feel +of that functionary, from having seen Cherubino, give but a faint notion +of him when pertaining to the household of the Emperor Napoleon. +</p> +<p> +“The <i>farfallone amoroso</i> basked in the soft smiles and sunny looks +of the Countess Almaviva; we met but the cold, impassive look of +Talleyrand, the piercing and penetrating stare of Savary, or the ambiguous +smile, half menace, half mockery, of Monsieur Fouché. While on service, +our days were passed in the antechamber, beside the <i>salle d’audience</i> +of the Emperor, reclining against the closed door, watching attentively +for the gentle tinkle of the little bell which summoned us to open for the +exit of some haughty diplomate, or the <i>entrée</i> of some redoubted +general. Thus passed we the weary hours; the illustrious visitors by whom +we were surrounded had no novelty, consequently no attraction for us, and +the names already historical were but household words with us. +</p> +<p> +“We often remarked, too, the proud and distant bearing the Emperor assumed +towards those of his generals who had been his former companions-in-arms. +Whatever familiarity or freedom may have existed in the campaign or in the +battle-field, the air of the Tuileries certainly chilled it. I have often +heard that the ceremonious observances and rigid etiquette of the old +Bourbon court were far preferable to the stern reserve and unbending +stiffness of the imperial one. +</p> +<p> +“The antechamber is but the reflection of the reception-room; and whatever +be the whims, the caprices, the littleness of the Great Man, they are +speedily assumed by his inferiors, and the dark temper of one casts a +lowering shadow on every menial by whom he is surrounded. +</p> +<p> +“As for us, we were certainly not long in catching somewhat of the spirit +of the Emperor; and I doubt much if the impertinence of the waiting-room +was not more dreaded and detested than the abrupt speech and searching +look of Napoleon himself. +</p> +<p> +“What a malicious pleasure have I not felt in arresting the step of M. de +Talleyrand, as he approached the Emperor’s closet! With what easy +insolence have I lisped out, ‘Pardon, Monsieur, but his Majesty cannot +receive you,’ or ‘Monsieur le Due, his Majesty has given no orders for +your admission.’ How amusing it was to watch the baffled look of each, as +he retired once more to his place among the crowd, the wily diplomate +covering his chagrin with a practised smile, while the stern marshal would +blush to his very eyes with indignation! This was the great pleasure our +position afforded us, and with a boyish spirit of mischief, we cultivated +it to perfection, and became at last the very horror and detestation of +all who frequented the levees; and the ambassador whose fearless voice was +heard among the councils of kings became soft and conciliating in his +approaches to us; and the hardy general who would have charged upon a +brigade of artillery was timid as a girl in addressing us a mere question. +</p> +<p> +“Among the amiable class thus characterized I was most conspicuous, +preserving cautiously a tone of civility that left nothing openly to +complain of. I assumed an indifference and impartiality of manner that no +exigency of affairs, no pressing haste, could discompose or disturb; and +my bow of recognition to Soult or Massena was as coolly measured as my +monosyllabic answer was accurately conned over. +</p> +<p> +“Upon ordinary occasions the Emperor at the close of each person’s +audience rang his little bell for the admission of the next in order as +they arrived in the waiting-room; yet when anything important was under +consideration, a list was given us in the morning of the names to be +presented in rotation, which no casual circumstance was ever suffered to +interfere with. +</p> +<p> +“It is now about four months since, one fine morning, such a list was +placed within my hands. His Majesty was just then occupied with an inquiry +into the naval force of the kingdom; and as I cast my eyes carelessly over +the names, I read little else than Vice-Admiral So-and-so, Commander +Such-a-one, and Chef d’Escardron Such-another, and the levee presented +accordingly, instead of its usual brilliant array of gorgeous uniform and +aiguilletted marshals, the simple blue-and-gold of the naval service. +</p> +<p> +“The marine was not in high favor with the Emperor; and truly, my +reception of these unfrequent visitors was anything but flattering. The +early part of the morning was, as usual, occupied by the audience of the +Minister of Police, and the Duc de Bassano, who evidently, from the length +of time they remained, had matter of importance to communicate. Meanwhile +the antechamber filled rapidly, and before noon was actually crowded. It +was just at this moment that the folding-door slowly opened, and a figure +entered, such as I had never before seen in our brilliant saloon. He was a +man of five or six and fifty, short, thickset, and strongly built, with a +bronzed and weather-beaten face, and a broad open forehead deeply scarred +with a sabre-cut; a shaggy gray mustache curled over and concealed his +mouth, while eyebrows of the same color shaded his dark and piercing eyes. +His dress was a coarse cut of blue cloth such as the fishermen wear in +Bretagne, fastened at the waist by a broad belt of black leather, from +which hung a short-bladed cutlass; his loose trousers, of the same +material, were turned up at the ankles to show a pair of strong legs +coarsely cased in blue stockings and thick-soled shoes. A broad-leaved +oil-skin hat was held in one hand, and the other stuck carelessly in his +pocket, as he entered. He came in with a careless air, and familiarly +saluting one or two officers in the room, he sat himself down near the +door, appearing lost in his own reflections. +</p> +<p> +“‘Who can you be, my worthy friend?’ was my question to myself as I +surveyed this singular apparition. At the same time, casting my eyes down +the list, I perceived that several pilots of the coast of Havre, Calais, +and Boulogne had been summoned to Paris to give some information upon the +soundings and depth of water along the shore. +</p> +<p> +“‘Ha,’ thought I, ‘I have it. The good man has mistaken his place, and +instead of remaining without, has walked boldly forward to the +antechamber.’ +</p> +<p> +“There was something so strange and so original in the grim look of the +old fellow, as he sat there alone, that I suffered him to remain quietly +in his delusion, rather than order him back to the waiting-room without; +besides, I perceived that a kind of sensation was created among the others +by his appearance there, which amused me greatly. +</p> +<p> +“As the day wore on, the officers formed into little groups of three or +four, chatting together in an undertone,—all save the old pilot. He +had taken a huge tobacco-box from his capacious breast-pocket, and +inserting an immense piece of the bitter weed in his mouth, began to chew +it as leisurely as though he were walking the quarter-deck. The cool <i>insouciance</i> +of such a proceeding amused me much, and I resolved to draw him out a +little. His strong, broad Breton features, his deep voice, his dry, blunt +manner, were all in admirable keeping with his exterior. +</p> +<p> +“‘<i>Par Dieu</i>, my lad,’ said he, after chatting some time, ‘had you +not better tell the Emperor that I am waiting? It’s now past noon, and I +must eat something.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Have a little patience,’ said I; ‘his Majesty is going to invite you to +dinner.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Be it so,’ said he, gravely; ‘provided the hour be an early one, I’m his +man.’ +</p> +<p> +“With difficulty did I keep down my laughter as he said this, and +continued. +</p> +<p> +“‘So you know the Emperor already, it seems?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, that I do! I remember him when he was no higher than yourself.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘How delighted he’ll be to find you here! I hope you have brought up some +of your family with you, as the Emperor would be so flattered by it?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘No, I’ve left them at home. This place don’t suit us over well. We have +plenty to do besides spending our time and money among all you fine folks +here.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And not a bad life of it, either,’ added I, ‘fishing for cod and +herrings,—stripping a wreck now and then.’ +</p> +<p> +“He stared at me, as I said this, like a tiger on the spring, but spoke +not a word. +</p> +<p> +“‘And how many young sea-wolves may you have in your den at home?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Six; and all of them able to carry you with one hand, at arm’s length.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I have no doubt. I shall certainly not test their ability. But you +yourself,—how do you like the capital?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Not over well; and I’ll tell you why—’ +</p> +<p> +“As he said this the door of the audience-chamber opened, and the Emperor +appeared. His eyes flashed fire as he looked hurriedly around the room. +</p> +<p> +“‘Who is in waiting here?’” + </p> +<p> +“‘I am, please your Majesty,’ said I, bowing deeply, as I started from my +seat. +</p> +<p> +“‘And where is the Admiral Truguet? Why was he not admitted?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Not present, your Majesty,’ said I, trembling with fear. +</p> +<p> +“‘Hold there, young fellow; not so fast. Here he is.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ah, Truguet, <i>mon ami!</i>’ cried the Emperor, placing both hands on +the old fellow’s shoulders, ‘how long have you been in waiting?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Two hours and a half,’ said he, producing in evidence a watch like a +saucer. +</p> +<p> +“‘What, two hours and a half, and I not know it!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘No matter; I am always happy to serve your Majesty. But if that fine +fellow had not told me that you were going to ask me to dinner—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘He! He said so, did he?’ said Napoleon, turning on me a glance like a +wild beast. ‘Yes, Truguet, so I am; you shall dine with me to-day. And +you, sir,’ said he, dropping his voice to a whisper, as he came closer +towards me,—‘and you have dared to speak thus? Call in a guard +there. Capitaine, put this person under arrest; he is disgraced. He is no +longer page of the palace. Out of my presence! away, sir!’ +</p> +<p> +“The room wheeled round; my legs tottered; my senses reeled; and I saw no +more. +</p> +<p> +“Three weeks’ bread and water in St. Pélagie, however, brought me to my +recollection; and at last my kind, my more than kind friend, the Empress, +obtained my pardon, and sent me to Fontainebleau, till the Emperor should +forget all about it. How I contrived again to refresh his memory I have +already told you; and certainly you will acknowledge that I have not been +fortunate in my interviews with Napoleon.” + </p> +<p> +I am conscious how much St. Croix’s story loses in my telling. The simple +expressions, the grace of the narrative, were its charm: and these, alas! +I can neither translate nor imitate, no more than I can convey the strange +mixture of deep feeling and levity, shrewdness and simplicity, that +constituted the manner of the narrator. +</p> +<p> +With many a story of his courtly career he amused me as we trotted along; +when, towards nightfall of the third day, a peasant informed us that a +body of French cavalry occupied the convent of San Cristoval, about three +leagues off. The opportunity of his return to his own army pleased him far +less than I expected. He heard, without any show of satisfaction, that the +time of his liberation had arrived; and when the moment of leave-taking +drew near, he became deeply affected. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Eh, bien</i>, Charles,” said he, smiling sadly through his dimmed and +tearful eyes. “You’ve been a kind friend to me. Is the time never to come +when I can repay you?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, yes; we’ll meet again, be assured of it. Meanwhile there is one way +you can more than repay anything I have done for you.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, name it at once!” + </p> +<p> +“Many a brave fellow of ours is now, and doubtless many more will be, +prisoners with your army in this war. Whenever, therefore, your lot brings +you in contact with such—” + </p> +<p> +“They shall be my brothers,” said he, springing towards me and throwing +his arms round my neck. “Adieu, adieu!” With that he rushed from the spot, +and before I could speak again, was mounted upon the peasant’s horse and +waving his hand to me in farewell. +</p> +<p> +I looked after him as he rode at a fast gallop down the slope of the green +mountain, the noise of the horse’s feet echoing along the silent plain. I +turned at length to leave the spot, and then perceived for the first time +that when taking his farewell of me he had hung around my neck his +miniature of the Empress. Poor boy! How sorrowful I felt thus to rob him +of what he had held so dear! How gladly would I have overtaken him to +restore it! It was the only keepsake he possessed; and knowing that I +would not accept it if offered, he took this way of compelling me to keep +it. +</p> +<p> +Through the long hours of the summer’s night I thought of him; and when at +last I slept, towards morning, my first thought on waking was of the +solitary day before me. The miles no longer slipped imperceptibly along; +no longer did the noon and night seem fast to follow. Alas, that one +should grow old! The very sorrows of our early years have something soft +and touching in them. Arising less from deep wrong than slight mischances, +the grief they cause comes ever with an alloy of pleasant thoughts, +telling of the tender past, and amidst the tears called up, forming some +bright rainbow of future hope. +</p> +<p> +Poor St. Croix had already won greatly upon me, and I felt lonely and +desolate when he departed. +</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> +ALVAS. +</p> +<p> +Nothing of incident marked our farther progress towards the frontier of +Spain, and at length we reached the small town of Alvas. It was past +sunset as we arrived, and instead of the usual quiet and repose of a +little village, we found the streets crowded with people, on horseback and +on foot; mules, bullocks, carts, and wagons blocked up the way, and the +oaths of the drivers and the screaming of women and children resounded on +all sides. +</p> +<p> +With what little Spanish I possessed I questioned some of those near me, +and learned, in reply, that a dreadful engagement had taken place that day +between the advanced guard of the French, under Victor, and the Lusitanian +legion; that the Portuguese troops had been beaten and completely routed, +losing all their artillery and baggage; that the French were rapidly +advancing, and expected hourly to arrive at Alvas, in consequence of which +the terror-stricken inhabitants were packing up their possessions and +hurrying away. +</p> +<p> +Here, then, was a point of considerable difficulty for me at once. My +instructions had never provided for such a conjuncture, and I was totally +unable to determine what was best to be done; both my men and their horses +were completely tired by a march of fourteen leagues, and had a pressing +need of some rest; on every side of me the preparations for flight were +proceeding with all the speed that fear inspires; and to my urgent request +for some information as to food and shelter, I could obtain no other reply +than muttered menaces of the fate before me if I remained, and exaggerated +accounts of French cruelty. +</p> +<p> +Amidst all this bustle and confusion a tremendous fall of heavy rain set +in, which at once determined me, come what might, to house my party, and +provide forage for our horses. +</p> +<p> +As we pushed our way slowly through the encumbered streets, looking on +every side for some appearance of a village inn, a tremendous shout rose +in our rear, and a rush of the people towards us induced us to suppose +that the French were upon us. For some minutes the din and uproar were +terrific,—the clatter of horses’ feet, the braying of trumpets, the +yelling of the mob, all mingling in one frightful concert. +</p> +<p> +I formed my men in close column, and waited steadily for the attack, +resolving, if possible, to charge through the advancing files,—any +retreat through the crowded and blocked-up thoroughfares being totally out +of the question. The rain was falling in such torrents that nothing could +be seen a few yards off, when suddenly a pause of a few seconds occurred, +and from the clash of accoutrements, and the hoarse tones of a loud voice, +I judged that the body of men before us were forming for attack. +</p> +<p> +Resolving, therefore, to take them by surprise, I gave the word to charge, +and spurring our jaded cattle, onward we dashed. The mob fled right and +left from us as we came on; and through the dense mist we could just +perceive a body of cavalry before us. +</p> +<p> +In an instant we were among them; down they went on every side, men and +horses rolling pell-mell over each other; not a blow, not a shot striking +us as we pressed on. Never did I witness such total consternation; some +threw themselves from their horses, and fled towards the houses; others +turned and tried to fall back, but the increasing pressure from behind +held them, and finally succeeded in blocking us up among them. +</p> +<p> +It was just at this critical moment that a sudden gleam of light from a +window fell upon the disordered mass, and to my astonishment, I need not +say to my delight, I perceived that they were Portuguese troops. Before I +had well time to halt my party, my convictions were pretty well +strengthened by hearing a well-known voice in the rear of the mass call +out,— +</p> +<p> +“Charge, ye devils! charge, will ye? Illustrious Hidalgos! cut them down; +<i>los infidelos, sacrificados los!</i> Scatter them like chaff!” + </p> +<p> +One roar of laughter was my only answer to this energetic appeal for my +destruction, and the moment after the dry features and pleasant face of +old Monsoon beamed on me by the light of a pine-torch he carried in his +right hand. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0438.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Major Monsoon Trying to Charge." + /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“Are they prisoners? Have they surrendered?” inquired he, riding up. “It +is well for them; we’d have made mince-meat of them otherwise; now they +shall be well treated, and ransomed if they prefer.” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Gracios excellenze!</i>” said I, in a feigned voice. +</p> +<p> +“Give up your sword,” said the major, in an undertone. +</p> +<p> +“You behaved gallantly, but you fought against invincibles. Lord love +them! but they are the most terrified invincibles.” + </p> +<p> +I nearly burst aloud at this. +</p> +<p> +“It was a close thing which of us ran first,” muttered the major, as he +turned to give some directions to an aide-de-camp. “Ask them who they +are,” said he, in Spanish. +</p> +<p> +By this time I came close alongside of him, and placing my mouth close to +his ear, holloed out,— +</p> +<p> +“Monsoon, old fellow, how goes the King of Spain’s sherry?” + </p> +<p> +“Eh, what! Why, upon my life, and so it is,—Charley, my boy, so it’s +you, is it? Egad, how good; and we were so near being the death of you! My +poor fellow, how came you here?” + </p> +<p> +A few words of explanation sufficed to inform the major why we were there, +and still more to comfort him with the assurance that he had not been +charging the general’s staff, and the conmander-in-chief himself. +</p> +<p> +“Upon my life, you gave me a great start; though as long as I thought you +were French, it was very well.” + </p> +<p> +“True, Major, but certainly the invincibles were merciful as they were +strong.” + </p> +<p> +“They were tired, Charley, nothing more; why, lad, we’ve been fighting +since daybreak,—beat Victor at six o’clock, drove him back behind +the Tagus; took a cold dinner, and had at him again in the afternoon. Lord +love you! we’ve immortalized ourselves. But you must never speak of this +little business here; it tells devilish ill for the discipline of your +fellows, upon my life it does.” + </p> +<p> +This was rather an original turn to give the transaction, but I did not +oppose; and thus chatting, we entered the little inn, where, confidence +once restored, some semblance of comfort already appeared. +</p> +<p> +“And so you’re come to reinforce us?” said Monsoon; “there was never +anything more opportune,—though we surprised ourselves today with +valor, I don’t think we could persevere.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, Major, the appointment gave me sincere pleasure; I greatly desired +to see a little service under your orders. Shall I present you with my +despatches?” + </p> +<p> +“Not now, Charley,—not now, my lad. Supper is the first thing at +this moment; besides, now that you remind me, I must send off a despatch +myself, Upon my life, it’s a great piece of fortune that you’re here; you +shall be secretary at war, and write it for me. Here now—how lucky +that I thought of it, to be sure! And it was just a mere chance; one has +so many things—” Muttering such broken, disjointed sentences, the +major opened a large portfolio with writing materials, which he displayed +before me as he rubbed his hands with satisfaction, and said, “Write away, +lad.” + </p> +<p> +“But, my dear Major, you forget; I was not in the action. You must +describe; I can only follow you.” + </p> +<p> +“Begin then thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +HEADQUARTERS, ALVAS, JUNE 26. +YOUR EXCELLENCY,—Having learned from Don Alphonzo Xaviero +da Minto, an officer upon my personal staff— +</pre> +<p> +“Luckily sober at that moment—” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +That the advanced guard of the eighth corps of the French +army— +</pre> +<p> +“Stay, though, was it the eighth? Upon my life, I’m not quite clear as to +that; blot the word a little and go on—” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +That the—corps, under Marshal Victor, had commenced a forward +movement towards Alcantara, I immediately ordered a flank +movement of the light infantry regiment to cover the bridge over the +Tagus. After breakfast— +</pre> +<p> +“I’m afraid, Major, that is not precise enough.” + </p> +<p> +“Well—” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +About eleven o’clock, the French skirmishers attacked, and drove +in our pickets that were posted in front of our position, and following +rapidly up with cavalry, they took a few prisoners, and killed old +Alphonzo,—he ran like a man, they say, but they caught him in +the rear. +</pre> +<p> +“You needn’t put that in, if you don’t like.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +I now directed a charge of the cavalry brigade, under Don +Asturias Y’Hajos, that cut them up in fine style. Our artillery, +posted on the heights, mowing away at their columns like fun. + +Victor didn’t like this, and got into a wood, when we all went +to dinner; it was about two o’clock then. + +After dinner, the Portuguese light corps, under Silva da Onorha, +having made an attack upon the enemy’s left, without my orders, +got devilish well trounced, and served them right; but coming up +to their assistance, with the heavy brigade of guns, and the cavalry, +we drove back the French, and took several prisoners, none of whom +we put to death. +</pre> +<p> +“Dash that—Sir Arthur likes respect for the usages of war. Lord, how +dry I’m getting!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The French were soon seen to retire their heavy guns, and +speedily afterwards retreated. We pursued them for some time, but +they showed fight; and as it was getting dark, I drew off my forces, +and came here to supper. Your Excellency will perceive, by the +enclosed return, that our loss has been considerable. + +I send this despatch by Don Emanuel Forgales, whose services— +</pre> +<p> +“I back him for mutton hash with onions against the whole regiment—” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +—have been of the most distinguished nature, and beg to recommend +him to your Excellency’s favor. + +I have the honor, etc. +</pre> +<p> +“Is it finished, Charley? Egad, I’m glad of it, for here comes supper.” + </p> +<p> +The door opened as he spoke, and displayed a tempting tray of smoking +viands, flanked by several bottles,—an officer of the major’s staff +accompanied it, and showed, by his attentions to the etiquette of the +table and the proper arrangement of the meal, that his functions in his +superior’s household were more than military. +</p> +<p> +We were speedily joined by two others in rich uniform, whose names I now +forget, but to whom the major presented me in all form,—introducing +me, as well as I could interpret his Spanish, as his most illustrious ally +and friend Don Carlos O’Malley. +</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> +THE SUPPER. +</p> +<p> +I have often partaken of more luxurious cookery and rarer wines; but never +do I remember enjoying a more welcome supper than on this occasion. +</p> +<p> +Our Portuguese guests left us soon, and the major and myself were once +more tête-a-tête beside a cheerful fire; a well-chosen array of bottles +guaranteeing that for some time at least no necessity of leave-taking +should arise from any deficiency of wine. +</p> +<p> +“That sherry is very near the thing, Charley; a little, a very little +sharp, but the after-taste perfect. And now, my boy, how have you been +doing since we parted?” + </p> +<p> +“Not so badly, Major. I have already got a step in promotion. The affair +at the Douro gave me a lieutenancy.” + </p> +<p> +“I wish you joy with all my heart. I’ll call you captain always while +you’re with me. Upon my life I will. Why, man, they style me your +Excellency here. Bless your heart, we are great folk among the Portuguese, +and no bad service, after all.” + </p> +<p> +“I should think not, Major. You seem to have always made a good thing of +it.” + </p> +<p> +“No, Charley; no, my boy. They overlook us greatly in general orders and +despatches. Had the brilliant action of to-day been fought by the British—But +no matter, they may behave well in England, after all; and when I’m called +to the Upper House as Baron Monsoon of the Tagus,—is that better +than Lord Alcantara?” + </p> +<p> +“I prefer the latter.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, I’ll have it. Lord! what a treaty I’ll move for with +Portugal, to let us have wine cheap. Wine, you know, as David says, gives +us a pleasant countenance; and oil,—I forget what oil does. Pass +over the decanter. And how is Sir Arthur, Charley? A fine fellow, but +sadly deficient in the knowledge of supplies. Never would have made any +character in the commissariat. Bless your heart, he pays for everything +here as if he were in Cheapside.” + </p> +<p> +“How absurd, to be sure!” + </p> +<p> +“Isn’t it, though? That was not my way, when I was commissary-general +about a year or two ago. To be sure, how I did puzzle them! They tried to +audit my accounts, and what do you think I did? I brought them in three +thousand pounds in my debt. They never tried on that game any more. ‘No, +no,’ said the Junta, ‘Beresford and Monsoon are great men, and must be +treated with respect!’ Do you think we’d let them search our pockets? But +the rogues doubled on us after all; they sent us to the northward,—a +poor country—” + </p> +<p> +“So that, except a little commonplace pillage of the convents and +nunneries, you had little or nothing?” + </p> +<p> +“Exactly so; and then I got a great shock about that time that affected my +spirits for a considerable while.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed, Major, some illness?” + </p> +<p> +“No, I was quite well; but—Lord, how thirsty it makes me to think of +it; my throat is absolutely parched—I was near being hanged!” + </p> +<p> +“Hanged!” + </p> +<p> +“Yes. Upon my life it’s true,—very horrible, ain’t it? It had a +great effect upon my nervous system; and they never thought of any little +pension to me as a recompense for my sufferings.” + </p> +<p> +“And who was barbarous enough to think of such a thing, Major?” + </p> +<p> +“Sir Arthur Wellesley himself,—none other, Charley?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, it was a mistake, Major, or a joke.” + </p> +<p> +“It was devilish near being a practical one, though. I’ll tell you how it +occurred. After the battle of Vimeira, the brigade to which I was attached +had their headquarters at San Pietro, a large convent where all the church +plate for miles around was stored up for safety. A sergeant’s guard was +accordingly stationed over the refectory, and every precaution taken to +prevent pillage, Sir Arthur himself having given particular orders on the +subject. Well, somehow,—I never could find out how,—but in +leaving the place, all the wagons of our brigade had got some trifling +articles of small value scattered, as it might be, among their stores,—gold +cups, silver candlesticks, Virgin Marys, ivory crucifixes, saints’ eyes +set in topazes, and martyrs’ toes in silver filagree, and a hundred other +similar things. +</p> +<p> +“One of these confounded bullock-cars broke down just at the angle of the +road where the commander-in-chief was standing with his staff to watch the +troops defile, and out rolled, among bread rations and salt beef, a whole +avalanche of precious relics and church ornaments. Every one stood aghast! +Never was there such a misfortune. No one endeavored to repair the mishap, +but all looked on in terrified amazement as to what was to follow. +</p> +<p> +“‘Who has the command of this detachment?’ shouted out Sir Arthur, in a +voice that made more than one of us tremble. +</p> +<p> +“‘Monsoon, your Excellency,—Major Monsoon, of the Portuguese +brigade.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The d—d old rogue, I know him!’ Upon my life that’s what he said. +‘Hang him up on the spot,’ pointing with his finger as he spoke; ‘we shall +see if this practice cannot be put a stop to.’ And with these words he +rode leisurely away, as if he had been merely ordering dinner for a small +party. +</p> +<p> +“When I came up to the place the halberts were fixed, and Gronow, with a +company of the Fusiliers, under arms beside them. +</p> +<p> +“‘Devilish sorry for it, Major,’ said he; ‘It’s confoundedly unpleasant; +but can’t be helped. We’ve got orders to see you hanged.’ +</p> +<p> +“Faith, it was just so he said it, tapping his snuff-box as he spoke, and +looking carelessly about him. Now, had it not been for the fixed halberts +and the provost-marshal, I’d not have believed him; but one glance at +them, and another at the bullock-cart with all the holy images, told me at +once what had happened. +</p> +<p> +“‘He only means to frighten me a little? Isn’t that all, Gronow?’ cried I, +in a supplicating voice. +</p> +<p> +“‘Very possibly, Major,’ said he; ‘but I must execute my orders.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You’ll surely not—’ Before I could finish, up came Dan Mackinnon, +cantering smartly. +</p> +<p> +“‘Going to hang old Monsoon, eh, Gronow? What fun!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ain’t it, though,’ said I, half blubbering. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, if you’re a good Catholic, you may have your choice of a saint, +for, by Jupiter, there’s a strong muster of them here.’ This cruel +allusion was made in reference to the gold and silver effigies that lay +scattered about the highway. +</p> +<p> +“‘Dan,’ said I, in a whisper, ‘intercede for me. Do, like a good, kind +fellow. You have influence with Sir Arthur.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You old sinner,’ said he, ‘it’s useless.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Dan, I’ll forgive you the fifteen pounds.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘That you owe <i>me</i>,’ said Dan, laughing. +</p> +<p> +“‘Who’ll ever be the father to you I have been? Who’ll mix your punch with +burned Madeira, when I’m gone?’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, really, I am sorry for you, Monsoon. I say, Gronow, don’t tuck him +up for a few minutes; I’ll speak for the old villain, and if I succeed, +I’ll wave my handkerchief.’ +</p> +<p> +“Well, away went Dan at a full gallop. Gronow sat down on a bank, and I +fidgeted about in no very enviable frame of mind, the confounded +provost-marshal eying me all the while. +</p> +<p> +“‘I can only give you five minutes more, Major,’ said Gronow, placing his +watch beside him on the grass. I tried to pray a little, and said three or +four of Solomon’s proverbs, when he again called out: ‘There, you see it +won’t do! Sir Arthur is shaking his head.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What’s that waving yonder?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘The colors of the 6th Foot. Come, Major, off with your stock.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Where is Dan now; what is he doing?’—for I could see nothing +myself. +</p> +<p> +“‘He’s riding beside Sir Arthur. They all seem laughing.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘God forgive them! what an awful retrospect this will prove to some of +them.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Time’s up!’ said Gronow, jumping up, and replacing his watch in his +pocket. +</p> +<p> +“‘Provost-Marshal, be quick now—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Eh! what’s that?—there, I see it waving! There’s a shout too!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Ay, by Jove! so it is; well, you’re saved this time, Major; that’s the +signal.’ +</p> +<p> +“So saying, Gronow formed his fellows in line and resumed his march quite +coolly, leaving me alone on the roadside to meditate over martial law and +my pernicious taste for relics. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Charley, this gave me a great shock, and I think, too, it must have +had a great effect upon Sir Arthur himself; but, upon my life, he has +wonderful nerves. I met him one day afterwards at dinner in Lisbon; he +looked at me very hard for a few seconds: ‘Eh, Monsoon! Major Monsoon, I +think?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, your Excellency,’ said I, briefly; thinking how painful it must be +for him to meet me. +</p> +<p> +“‘Thought I had hanged you,—know I intended it,—no matter. A +glass of wine with you?’ +</p> +<p> +“Upon my life, that was all; how easily some people can forgive +themselves! But Charley, my hearty, we are getting on slowly with the +tipple; are they all empty? So they are! Let us make a sortie on the +cellar; bring a candle with you, and come along.” + </p> +<p> +We had scarcely proceeded a few steps from the door, when a most +vociferous sound of mirth, arising from a neighboring apartment, arrested +our progress. +</p> +<p> +“Are the dons so convivial, Major?” said I, as a hearty burst of laughter +broke forth at the moment. +</p> +<p> +“Upon my life, they surprise me; I begin to fear they have taken some of +our wine.” + </p> +<p> +We now perceived that the sounds of merriment came from the kitchen, which +opened upon a little courtyard. Into this we crept stealthily, and +approaching noiselessly to the window, obtained a peep at the scene +within. +</p> +<p> +Around a blazing fire, over which hung by a chain a massive iron pot, sat +a goodly party of some half-dozen people. One group lay in dark shadow; +but the others were brilliantly lighted up by the cheerful blaze, and +showed us a portly Dominican friar, with a beard down to his waist, a +buxom, dark-eyed girl of some eighteen years, and between the two, most +comfortably leaning back, with an arm round each, no less a person than my +trusty man Mickey Free. +</p> +<p> +It was evident, from the alternate motion of his head, that his attentions +were evenly divided between the church and the fair sex; although, to +confess the truth, they seemed much more favorably received by the latter +than the former,—a brown earthen flagon appearing to absorb all the +worthy monk’s thoughts that he could spare from the contemplation of +heavenly objects. +</p> +<p> +“Mary, my darlin,’ don’t be looking at me that way, through the corner of +your eye; I know you’re fond of me,—but the girls always was. You +think I’m joking, but troth I wouldn’t say a lie before the holy man +beside me; sure I wouldn’t, Father?” + </p> +<p> +The friar grunted out something in reply, not very unlike, in sound at +least, a hearty anathema. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, then, isn’t it yourself has the illigant time of it, Father dear!” + said he, tapping him familiarly upon his ample paunch, “and nothing to +trouble you; the best of divarsion wherever you go, and whether it’s +Badahos or Ballykilruddery, it’s all one; the women is fond of ye. Father +Murphy, the coadjutor in Scariff, was just such another as yourself, and +he’d coax the birds off the trees with the tongue of him. Give us a pull +at the pipkin before it’s all gone, and I’ll give you a chant.” + </p> +<p> +With this he seized the jar, and drained it to the bottom; the smack of +his lips as he concluded, and the disappointed look of the friar as he +peered into the vessel, throwing the others, once more, into a loud burst +of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“And now, your rev’rance, a good chorus is all I’ll ask, and you’ll not +refuse it for the honor of the church.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, he turned a look of most droll expression upon the monk, and +began the following ditty, to the air of “Saint Patrick was a Gentleman”:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +What an illegant life a friar leads, +With a fat round paunch before him! +He mutters a prayer and counts his beads, +And all the women adore him. +It’s little he’s troubled to work or think, +Wherever devotion leads him; +A “pater” pays for his dinner and drink, +For the Church—good luck to her!—feeds him. + +From the cow in the field to the pig in the sty, +From the maid to the lady in satin, +They tremble wherever he turns an eye. +He can talk to the Devil in Latin! +He’s mighty severe to the ugly and ould, +And curses like mad when he’s near ‘em; +But one beautiful trait of him I’ve been tould, +The innocent craytures don’t fear him. + +It’s little for spirits or ghosts he cares; +For ‘tis true as the world supposes, +With an Ave he’d make them march down-stairs, +Av they dared to show their noses. +The Devil himself’s afraid, ‘tis said, +And dares not to deride him; +For “angels make each night his bed, +And then—lie down beside him.” + </pre> +<p> +A perfect burst of laughter from Monsoon prevented my hearing how Mike’s +minstrelsy succeeded within doors; but when I looked again, I found that +the friar had decamped, leaving the field open to his rival,—a +circumstance, I could plainly perceive, not disliked by either party. +</p> +<p> +“Come back, Charley, that villain of yours has given me the cramp, +standing here on the cold pavement. We’ll have a little warm posset,—very +small and thin, as they say in Tom Jones,—and then to bed.” + </p> +<p> +Notwithstanding the abstemious intentions of the major, it was daybreak +ere we separated, and neither party in a condition for performing upon the +tight-rope. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LV. +</h2> +<p> +THE LEGION. +</p> +<p> +My services while with the Legion were of no very distinguished character, +and require no lengthened chronicle. Their great feat of arms, the repulse +of an advanced guard of Victor’s corps, had taken place the very morning I +had joined them, and the ensuing month was passed in soft repose upon +their laurels. +</p> +<p> +For the first few days, indeed, a multiplicity of cares beset the worthy +major. There was a despatch to be written to Beresford, another to the +Supreme Junta, a letter to Wilson, at that time with the corps of +observation to the eastward. There were some wounded to be looked after, a +speech to be made to the conquering heroes themselves, and lastly, a few +prisoners were taken, whose fate seemed certainly to partake of the most +uncertain of war’s proverbial chances. +</p> +<p> +The despatches gave little trouble; with some very slight alterations, the +great original, already sent forward to Sir Arthur, served as a basis for +the rest. The wounded were forwarded to Alcantara, with a medical staff; +to whom Monsoon, at parting, pleasantly hinted that he expected to see all +the sick at their duty by an early day, or he would be compelled to report +the doctors. The speech, which was intended as a kind of general order, he +deferred for some favorable afternoon when he could get up his Portuguese; +and lastly, came the prisoners, by far the most difficult of all his +cares. As for the few common soldiers taken, they gave him little +uneasiness,—as Sir John has it, they were “mortal men, and food for +powder;” but there was a staff-officer among them, aiguilletted and +epauletted. The very decorations he wore were no common temptation. Now, +the major deliberated a long time with himself, whether the usages of +modern war might not admit of the ancient, time-honored practice of +ransom. The battle, save in glory, had been singularly unproductive: +plunder there was none; the few ammunition-wagons and gun-carriages were +worth little or nothing; so that, save the prisoners, nothing remained. It +was late in the evening—the mellow hour of the major’s meditations—when +he ventured to open his heart to me upon the matter. +</p> +<p> +“I was just thinking, Charley, how very superior they were in olden times +to us moderns, in many matters, and nothing more than in their treatment +of prisoners. They never took them away from their friends and country; +they always ransomed them,—if they had wherewithal to pay their way. +So good-natured!—upon my life it was a most excellent custom! They +took any little valuables they found about them, and then put them up at +auction. Moses and Eleazar, a priest, we are told, took every piece of +gold, and their wrought jewels,—meaning their watches, and +ear-rings. You needn’t laugh, they all wore ear-rings, those fellows did. +Now, why shouldn’t I profit by their good example? I have taken Agag, the +King of the Amalekites,—no, but upon my life, I have got a French +major, and I’d let him go for fifty doubloons.” + </p> +<p> +It was not without much laughing, and some eloquence, that I could +persuade Monsoon that Sir Arthur’s military notions might not accept of +even the authority of Moses; and as our headquarters were at no great +distance, the danger of such a step as he meditated was too considerable +at such a moment. +</p> +<p> +As for ourselves, no fatiguing drills, no harassing field-days, and no +provoking inspections interfered with the easy current of our lives. +Foraging parties there were, it was true, and some occasional outpost duty +was performed. But the officers for both were selected with a tact that +proved the major’s appreciation of character; for while the gay, joyous +fellow that sung a jovial song and loved his <i>liquor</i> was certain of +being entertained at headquarters, the less-gifted and less-congenial +spirit had the happiness of scouring the country for forage, and +presenting himself as a target to a French rifle. +</p> +<p> +My own endeavors to fulfil my instructions met with but little +encouragement or support; and although I labored hard at my task, I must +confess that the soil was a most ungrateful one. The cavalry were, it is +true, composed mostly of young fellows well-appointed, and in most cases +well-mounted; but a more disorderly, careless, undisciplined set of +good-humored fellows never formed a corps in the world. +</p> +<p> +Monsoon’s opinions were felt in every branch of the service, from the +adjutant to the drumboy,—the same reckless, indolent, plunder-loving +spirit prevailed everywhere. And although under fire they showed no lack +of gallantry or courage, the moment of danger passed, discipline departed +with it, and their only conception of benefiting by a victory consisted in +the amount of pillage that resulted from it. +</p> +<p> +From time to time the rumors of great events reached us. We heard that +Soult, having succeeded in re-organizing his beaten army, was, in +conjunction with Ney’s corps, returning from the north; that the marshals +were consolidating their forces in the neighborhood of Talavera; and that +King Joseph himself, at the head of a large army, had marched for Madrid. +</p> +<p> +Menacing as such an aspect of affairs was, it had little disturbed the +major’s equanimity; and when our advanced posts reported daily the +intelligence that the French were in retreat, he cared little with what +object of concentrating they retired, provided the interval between us +grew gradually wider. His speculations upon the future were singularly +prophetic. “You’ll see, Charley, what will happen; old Cuesta will pursue +them, and get thrashed. The English will come up, and perhaps get thrashed +too; but we, God bless us! are only a small force, partially organized and +ill to depend on,—we’ll go up the mountains till all is over!” Thus +did the major’s discretion not only extend to the avoidance of danger, but +he actually disqualified himself from even making its acquaintance. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile our operations consisted in making easy marches to Almarez, +halting wherever the commissariat reported a well-stocked cellar or +well-furnished hen-roost, taking the primrose path in life, and being, in +words of the major, “contented and grateful, even amidst great perils!” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LVI. +</h2> +<p> +THE DEPARTURE. +</p> +<p> +On the morning of the 10th July a despatch reached us announcing that Sir +Arthur Wellesley had taken up his headquarters at Placentia for the +purpose of communicating with Cuesta, then at Casa del Puerto; and +ordering me immediately to repair to the Spanish headquarters and await +Sir Arthur’s arrival, to make my report upon the effective state of our +corps. As for me, I was heartily tired of the inaction of my present life, +and much as I relished the eccentricities of my friend the major, longed +ardently for a different sphere of action. +</p> +<p> +Not so Monsoon; the prospect of active employment and the thoughts of +being left once more alone, for his Portuguese staff afforded him little +society, depressed him greatly; and as the hour of my departure drew near, +he appeared lower in spirits than I had ever seen him. +</p> +<p> +“I shall be very lonely without you, Charley,” said he, with a sigh, as we +sat the last evening together beside our cheerful wood fire. “I have +little intercourse with the dons; for my Portuguese is none of the best, +and only comes when the evening is far advanced; and besides, the +villains, I fear, may remember the sherry affair. Two of my present staff +were with me then.” + </p> +<p> +“Is that the story Power so often alluded to, Major; the King of Spain’s—” + </p> +<p> +“There, Charley, hush; be cautious, my boy. I’d rather not speak about +that till we get among our own fellows.” + </p> +<p> +“Just as you like, Major; but, do you know, I have a strong curiosity to +hear the narrative.” + </p> +<p> +“If I’m not mistaken, there is some one listening at the door,—gently; +that’s it, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“No, we are perfectly alone; the night’s early; who knows when we shall +have as quiet an hour again together? Let me hear it, by all means.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I don’t care; the thing, Heaven knows! is tolerably well known; so +if you’ll amuse yourself making a devil of the turkey’s legs there, I’ll +tell you the story. It’s very short, Charley, and there’s no moral; so +you’re not likely to repeat it.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, the major filled up his glass, drew a little closer to the +fire, and began:— +</p> +<p> +“When the French troops, under Laborde, were marching, upon Alcobaca, in +concert with Loison’s corps, I was ordered to convey a very valuable +present of sherry the Duo d’Albu-querque was making to the Supreme Junta,—no +less than ten hogsheads of the best sherry the royal cellars of Madrid had +formerly contained. +</p> +<p> +“It was stored in the San Vincente convent; and the Junta, knowing a +little about monkish tastes and the wants of the Church, prudently thought +it would be quite as well at Lisbon. I was accordingly ordered, with a +sufficient force, to provide for its safe conduct and secure arrival, and +set out upon my march one lovely morning in April with my precious convoy. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know, I never could understand, why temptations are thrown in our +way in this life, except for the pleasure of yielding to them. As for me, +I’m a stoic when there’s nothing to be had; but let me get a scent of a +well-kept haunch, the odor of a wine-bin once in my nose, I forget +everything except appropriation. That bone smells deliciously, Charley; a +little garlic would improve it vastly. +</p> +<p> +“Our road lay through cross-paths and mountain tracts, for the French were +scouring the country on every side, and my fellows, only twenty +altogether, trembled at the very name of them; so that our only chance was +to avoid falling in with any forage parties. We journeyed along for +several days, rarely making more than a few leagues between sunrise and +sunset, a scout always in advance to assure us that all was safe. The road +was a lonesome one and the way weary, for I had no one to speak to or +converse with, so I fell into a kind of musing fit about the old wine in +the great brown casks. I thought on its luscious flavor, its rich straw +tint, its oily look as it flowed into the glass, the mellow after-taste +warming the heart as it went down, and I absolutely thought I could smell +it through the wood. +</p> +<p> +“How I longed to broach one of them, if it were only to see if my dreams +about it were correct. ‘May be it’s brown sherry,’ thought I, ‘and I am +all wrong.’ This was a very distressing reflection. I mentioned it to the +Portuguese intendant, who travelled with us as a kind of supercargo; but +the villain only grinned and said something about the Junta and the +galleys for life, so I did not recur to it afterwards. Well, it was upon +the third evening of our march that the scout reported that at Merida, +about a league distant, he had fallen in with an English cavalry regiment, +who were on their march to the northern provinces, and remaining that +night in the village. As soon, therefore, as I had made all my +arrangements for the night, I took a fresh horse and cantered over to have +a look at my countrymen, and hear the news. When I arrived, it was a dark +night, but I was not long in finding out our fellows. They were the 11th +Light Dragoons, commanded by my old friend Bowes, and with as jolly a mess +as any in the service. +</p> +<p> +“Before half an hour’s time I was in the midst of them, hearing all about +the campaign, and telling them in return about my convoy, dilating upon +the qualities of the wine as if I had been drinking it every day at +dinner. +</p> +<p> +“We had a very mellow night of it; and before four o’clock the senior +major and four captains were under the table, and all the subs, in a state +unprovided for by the articles of war. So I thought I’d be going, and +wishing the sober ones a good-by, set out on my road to join my own party. +</p> +<p> +“I had not gone above a hundred yards when I heard some one running after, +and calling out my name. +</p> +<p> +“‘I say, Monsoon; Major, confound you, pull up.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well, what’s the matter? Has any more lush turned up?’ inquired I, for +we had drank the tap dry when I left. +</p> +<p> +“‘Not a drop, old fellow!’ said he; ‘but I was thinking of what you’ve +been saying about that sherry.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Well! What then?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Why, I want to know how we could get a taste of it?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘You’d better get elected one of the Cortes,’ said I, laughing; ‘for it +doesn’t seem likely you’ll do so in any other way.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’m not so sure of that,’ said he, smiling. ‘What road do you travel +to-morrow?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘By Cavalhos and Reina.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Whereabouts may you happen to be towards sunset?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I fear we shall be in the mountains,’ said I, with a knowing look, +‘where ambuscades and surprise parties would be highly dangerous.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And your party consists of—’ +</p> +<p> +“‘About twenty Portuguese, all ready to run at the first shot.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘I’ll do it, Monsoon; I’ll be hanged if I don’t.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘But, Tom,’ said I, ‘don’t make any blunder; only blank cartridge, my +boy.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Honor bright!’ cried he. ‘Your fellows are armed of course?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Never think of that; they may shoot each other in the confusion. But if +you only make plenty of noise coming on, they’ll never wait for you.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘What capital fellows they must be!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Crack troops, Tom; so don’t hurt them. And now, good-night.’ +</p> +<p> +“As I cantered off, I began to think over O’Flaherty’s idea; and upon my +life, I didn’t half like it. He was a reckless, devil-may-care fellow; and +it was just as likely he would really put his scheme into practice. +</p> +<p> +“When morning broke, however, we got under way again, and I amused myself +all the forenoon in detailing stories of French cruelty; so that before we +had marched ten miles, there was not a man among us not ready to run at +the slightest sound of attack on any side. As evening was falling we +reached Morento, a little mountain pass which follows the course of a +small river, and where, in many places, the mule carts had barely space +enough to pass between the cliffs and the stream. ‘What a place for Tom +O’Flaherty and his foragers!’ thought I, as we entered the little mountain +gorge; but all was silent as the grave,—except the tramp of our +party, not a sound was heard. There was something solemn and still in the +great brown mountain, rising like vast walls on either side, with a narrow +streak of gray sky at top and in the dark, sluggish stream, that seemed to +awe us, and no one spoke. The muleteer ceased his merry song, and did not +crack or flourish his long whip as before, but chid his beasts in a +half-muttered voice, and urged them faster, to reach the village before +nightfall. +</p> +<p> +“Egad, somehow I felt uncommonly uncomfortable; I could not divest my mind +of the impression that some disaster was impending, and I wished +O’Flaherty and his project in a very warm climate. ‘He’ll attack us,’ +thought I, ‘where we can’t run; fair play forever. But if they are not +able to get away, even the militia will fight.’ However, the evening crept +on, and no sign of his coming appeared on any side; and to my sincere +satisfaction, I could see, about half a league distant, the twinkling +light of the little village where we were to halt for the night. It was +just at this time that a scout I had sent out some few hundred yards in +advance came galloping up, almost breathless. +</p> +<p> +“‘The French, Captain; the French are upon us!’ said he, with a face like +a ghost. +</p> +<p> +“‘Whew! Which way? How many?’ said I, not at all sure that he might not be +telling the truth. +</p> +<p> +“‘Coming in force!’ said the fellow. ‘Dragoons! By this road!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Dragoons? By this road?’ repeated every man of the party, looking at +each other like men sentenced to be hanged. +</p> +<p> +“Scarcely had they spoken when we heard the distant noise of cavalry +advancing at a brisk trot. Lord, what a scene ensued! The soldiers ran +hither and thither like frightened sheep; some pulled out crucifixes and +began to say their prayers; others fired off their muskets in a panic; the +mule-drivers cut their traces, and endeavored to get away by riding; and +the intendant took to his heels, screaming out to us, as he went, to fight +manfully to the last, and that he’d report us favorably to the Junta. +</p> +<p> +“Just at this moment the dragoons came in sight; they came galloping up, +shouting like madmen. One look was enough for my fellows; they sprang to +their legs from their devotions, fired a volley straight at the new moon, +and ran like men. +</p> +<p> +“I was knocked down in the rush. As I regained my legs, Tom O’Flaherty was +standing beside me, laughing like mad. +</p> +<p> +“‘Eh, Monsoon! I’ve kept my word, old fellow! What legs they have! We +shall make no prisoners, that’s certain. Now, lads, here it is! Put the +horses to, here. We shall take but one, Monsoon; so that your gallant +defence of the rest will please the Junta. Good-night, good-night! I will +drink your health every night these two months.’ +</p> +<p> +“So saying, Tom sprang to his saddle; and in less time than I’ve been +telling it, the whole was over and I sitting by myself in the gray +moonlight, meditating on all I saw, and now and then shouting for my +Portuguese friends to come back again. They came in time, by twos and +threes; and at last the whole party re-assembled, and we set forth again, +every man, from the intendant to the drummer, lauding my valor, and saying +that Don Monsoon was a match for the Cid.” + </p> +<p> +“And how did the Junta behave?” + </p> +<p> +“Like trumps, Charley. Made me a Knight of Battalha, and kissed me on both +cheeks, having sent twelve dozen of the rescued wine to my quarters, as a +small testimony of their esteem. I have laughed very often at it since. +But hush, Charley? What’s that I hear without there?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, it’s my fellow Mike. He asked my leave to entertain his friends +before parting, and I perceive he is delighting them with a song.” + </p> +<p> +“But what a confounded air it is! Are the words Hebrew?” + </p> +<p> +“Irish, Major; most classical Irish, too, I’ll be bound!” + </p> +<p> +“Irish! I’ve heard most tongues, but that certainly surprises me. Call him +in, Charley, and let us have the canticle.” + </p> +<p> +In a few minutes more, Mr. Free appeared in a state of very satisfactory +elevation, his eyebrows alternately rising and falling, his mouth a little +drawn to one side, and a side motion in his knee-joints that might puzzle +a physiologist to account for. +</p> +<p> +“A sweet little song of yours, Mike,” said the major; “a very sweet thing +indeed. Wet your lips, Mickey.” + </p> +<p> +“Long life to your honor and Master Charles there, too, and them that +belongs to both of yez. May a gooseberry skin make a nightcap for the man +would harm either of ye.” + </p> +<p> +“Thank you, Mike. And now about that song.” + </p> +<p> +“It’s the ouldest tune ever was sung,” said Mike, with a hiccough, +“barring Adam had a taste for music; but the words—the poethry—is +not so ould.” + </p> +<p> +“And how comes that?” + </p> +<p> +“The poethry, ye see, was put to it by one of my ancesthors,—he was +a great inventhor in times past, and made beautiful songs,—and ye’d +never guess what it’s all about.” + </p> +<p> +“Love, mayhap?” quoth Monsoon. +</p> +<p> +“Sorra taste of kissing from beginning to end.” + </p> +<p> +“A drinking song?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Whiskey is never mentioned.” + </p> +<p> +“Fighting is the only other national pastime. It must be in praise of +sudden death?” + </p> +<p> +“You’re out again; but sure you’d never guess it,” said Mike. “Well, ye +see, here’s what it is. It’s the praise and glory of ould Ireland in the +great days that’s gone, when we were all Phenayceans and Armenians, and +when we worked all manner of beautiful contrivances in gold and silver,—bracelets +and collars and teapots, elegant to look at,—and read Roosian and +Latin, and played the harp and the barrel-organ, and eat and drank of the +best, for nothing but asking.” + </p> +<p> +“Blessed times, upon my life!” quoth the major; “I wish we had them back +again.” + </p> +<p> +“There’s more of your mind,” said Mike, steadying himself. “My ancesthors +was great people in them days; and sure it isn’t in my present situation +I’d be av we had them back again,—sorra bit, faith! It isn’t, ‘Come +here, Mickey, bad luck to you, Mike!’ or, ‘That blackguard, Mickey Free!’ +people’d be calling me. But no matter; here’s your health again, Major +Monsoon—” + </p> +<p> +“Never mind vain regrets, Mike. Let us hear your song; the major has taken +a great fancy to it.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, then, it’s joking you are, Mister Charles,” said Mike, affecting an +air of most bashful coyness. +</p> +<p> +“By no means; we want to hear you sing it.” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure we do. Sing it by all means; never be ashamed. King David was +very fond of singing,—upon my life he was.” + </p> +<p> +“But you’d never understand a word of it, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“No matter; we know what it’s about. That’s the way with the Legion; they +don’t know much English, but they generally guess what I’m at.” + </p> +<p> +This argument seemed to satisfy all Mike’s remaining scruples; so placing +himself in an attitude of considerable pretension as to grace, he began, +with a voice of no very measured compass, an air of which neither by name +nor otherwise can I give any conception; my principal amusement being +derived from a tol-de-rol chorus of the major, which concluded each verse, +and indeed in a lower key accompanied the singer throughout. +</p> +<p> +Since that I have succeeded in obtaining a free-and-easy translation of +the lyric; but in my anxiety to preserve the metre and something of the +spirit of the original, I have made several blunders and many +anachronisms. Mr. Free, however, pronounces my version a good one, and the +world must take his word till some more worthy translator shall have +consigned it to immortal verse. +</p> +<p> +With this apology, therefore, I present Mr. Free’s song: +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +AIR,—<i>Na Guilloch y’ Goulen</i>. + +Oh, once we were illigint people, +Though we now live in cabins of mud; +And the land that ye see from the steeple +Belonged to us all from the Flood. +My father was then King of Connaught, +My grand-aunt Viceroy of Tralee; +But the Sassenach came, and signs on it, +The devil an acre have we. + +The least of us then were all earls, +And jewels we wore without name; +We drank punch out of rubies and pearls,— +Mr. Petrie can tell you the same. +But except some turf mould and potatoes, +There’s nothing our own we can call; +And the English,—bad luck to them!—hate us, +Because we’ve more fun than them all! + +My grand-aunt was niece to Saint Kevin, +That’s the reason my name’s Mickey Free! +Priest’s nieces,—but sure he’s in heaven, +And his failins is nothin’ to me. +And we still might get on without doctors, +If they’d let the ould Island alone; +And if purple-men, priests, and tithe-proctors +Were crammed down the great gun of Athlone. +</pre> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0460.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Mr. Free’s Song. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +As Mike’s melody proceeded, the major’s thorough bass waxed beautifully +less,—now and then, it’s true, roused by some momentary strain, it +swelled upwards in full chorus, but gradually these passing flights grew +rarer, and finally all ceased, save a long, low, droning sound, like the +expiring sigh of a wearied bagpipe. His fingers still continued +mechanically to beat time upon the table, and still his head nodded +sympathetically to the music; his eyelids closed in sleep; and as the last +verse concluded, a full-drawn snore announced that Monsoon, if not in the +land of dreams, was at least in a happy oblivion of all terrestrial +concerns, and caring as little for the woes of green Erin and the altered +fortunes of the Free family as any Saxon that ever oppressed them. +</p> +<p> +There he sat, the finished decanter and empty goblet testifying that his +labors had only ceased from the pressure of necessity; but the broken, +half-uttered words that fell from his lips evinced that he reposed on the +last bottle of the series. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, thin, he’s a fine ould gentleman!” said Mike, after a pause of some +minutes, during which he had been contemplating the major with all the +critical acumen Chantrey or Canova would have bestowed upon an antique +statue,—“a fine ould gentleman, every inch of him; and it’s the +master would like to have him up at the Castle.” + </p> +<p> +“Quite true, Mike; but let us not forget the road. Look to the cattle, and +be ready to start within an hour.” + </p> +<p> +When he left the room for this purpose I endeavored to shake the major +into momentary consciousness ere we parted. +</p> +<p> +“Major, Major,” said I, “time is up. I must start.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, it’s all true, your Excellency: they pillaged a little; and if they +did change their facings, there was a great temptation. All the red velvet +they found in the churches—” + </p> +<p> +“Good-by, old fellow, good-by!” + </p> +<p> +“Stand at ease!” + </p> +<p> +“Can’t, unfortunately, yet awhile; so farewell. I’ll make a capital report +of the Legion to Sir Arthur; shall I add anything particularly from +yourself?” + </p> +<p> +This, and the shake that accompanied it, aroused him. He started up, and +looked about him for a few seconds. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, Charley! You didn’t say Sir Arthur was here, did you?” + </p> +<p> +“No, Major; don’t be frightened; he’s many a league off. I asked if you +had anything to say when I met him?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, Charley! Tell him we’re capital troops in our own little way in +the mountains; would never do in pitched battles,—skirmishing’s our +forte; and for cutting off stragglers, or sacking a town, back them at any +odds.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, yes, I know all that; you’ve nothing more?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing,” said he, once more closing his eyes and crossing his hands +before him, while his lips continued to mutter on,—“nothing more, +except you may say from me,—he knows me, Sir Arthur does. Tell him +to guard himself from intemperance; a fine fellow if he wouldn’t drink.” + </p> +<p> +“You horrid old humbug, what nonsense are you muttering there?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, yes; Solomon says, ‘Who hath red eyes and carbuncles?’ they that mix +their lush. Pure <i>Sneyd</i> never injured any one. Tell him so from me,—it’s +an old man’s advice, and I have drunk some hogsheads of it.” + </p> +<p> +With these words he ceased to speak, while his head, falling gently +forward upon his chest, proclaimed him sound asleep. +</p> +<p> +“Adieu, then, for the last time,” said I, slapping him gently on the +shoulder. “And now for the road.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LVII. +</h2> +<p> +CUESTA. +</p> +<p> +The second day of our journey was drawing to a close as we came in view of +the Spanish army. +</p> +<p> +The position they occupied was an undulating plain beside the Teitar +River; the country presented no striking feature of picturesque beauty, +but the scene before us needed no such aid to make it one of the most +interesting kind. From the little mountain path we travelled we beheld +beneath a force of thirty thousand men drawn up in battle array, dense +columns of infantry alternating with squadrons of horse or dark masses of +artillery dotted the wide plain, the bright steel glittering in the rich +sunset of a July evening when not a breath of air was stirring; the very +banners hung down listlessly, and not a sound broke the solemn stillness +of the hour. All was silent. So impressive and so strange was the +spectacle of a vast army thus resting mutely under arms, that I reined in +my horse, and almost doubted the reality of the scene as I gazed upon it. +The dark shadows of the tall mountain were falling across the valley, and +a starry sky was already replacing the ruddy glow of sunset as we reached +the plain; but still no change took place in the position of the Spanish +army. +</p> +<p> +“Who goes there?” cried a hoarse voice, as we issued from the mountain +gorge, and in a moment we found ourselves surrounded by an outpost party. +Having explained, as well as I was able, who I was, and for what reason I +was there, I proceeded to accompany the officer towards the camp. +</p> +<p> +On my way thither I learned the reason of the singular display of troops +which had been so puzzling to me. From an early hour of that day Sir +Arthur Wellesley’s arrival had been expected, and old Cuesta had drawn up +his men for inspection, and remained thus for several hours patiently +awaiting his coming; he himself, overwhelmed with years and infirmity, +sitting upon his horse the entire time. +</p> +<p> +As it was not necessary that I should be presented to the general, my +report being for the ear of Sir Arthur himself, I willingly availed myself +of the hospitality proffered by a Spanish officer of cavalry; and having +provided for the comforts of my tired cattle and taken a hasty supper, +issued forth to look at the troops, which, although it was now growing +late, were still in the same attitude. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had I been half an hour thus occupied, when the stillness of the +scene was suddenly interrupted by the loud report of a large gun, +immediately followed by a long roll of musketry, while at the same moment +the bands of the different regiments struck up, and as if by magic a blaze +of red light streamed across the dark ranks. This was effected by pine +torches held aloft at intervals, throwing a lurid glare upon the grim and +swarthy features of the Spaniards, whose brown uniforms and slouching hats +presented a most picturesque effect as the red light fell upon them. +</p> +<p> +The swell of the thundering cannon grew louder and nearer,—the +shouldering of muskets, the clash of sabres, and the hoarse roll of the +drum, mingling in one common din. I at once guessed that Sir Arthur had +arrived, and as I turned the flank of a battalion I saw the staff +approaching. Nothing can be conceived more striking than their advance. In +the front rode old Cuesta himself, clad in the costume of a past century, +his slashed doublet and trunk hose reminding one of a more chivalrous +period, his heavy, unwieldy figure looming from side to side, and +threatening at each moment to fall from his saddle. On each side of him +walked two figures gorgeously dressed, whose duty appeared to be to +sustain the chief in his seat. At his side rode a far different figure. +Mounted upon a slight-made, active thorough-bred, whose drawn flanks +bespoke a long and weary journey, sat Sir Arthur Wellesley, a plain blue +frock and gray trousers being his unpretending costume; but the eagle +glance which he threw around on every side, the quick motion of his hand +as he pointed hither and thither among the dense battalions, bespoke him +every inch a soldier. Behind them came a brilliant staff, glittering in +aiguillettes and golden trappings, among whom I recognized some +well-remembered faces,—our gallant leader at the Douro, Sir Charles +Stewart, among the number. +</p> +<p> +As they passed the spot where I was standing, the torch of a foot soldier +behind me flared suddenly up and threw a strong flash upon the party. +Cuesta’s horse grew frightened, and plunged so fearfully for a minute that +the poor old man could scarcely keep his seat. A smile shot across Sir +Arthur’s features at the moment, but the next instant he was grave and +steadfast as before. +</p> +<p> +A wretched hovel, thatched and in ruins, formed the headquarters of the +Spanish army, and thither the staff now bent their steps,—a supper +being provided there for our commander-in-chief and the officers of his +suite. Although not of the privileged party, I lingered round the spot for +some time, anxiously expecting to find some friend or acquaintance who +might tell me the news of our people, and what events had occurred in my +absence. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LVIII. +</h2> +<p> +THE LETTER. +</p> +<p> +The hours passed slowly over, and I at length grew weary of waiting. For +some time I had amused myself with observing the slouching gait and +unsoldier-like air of the Spaniards as they lounged carelessly about, +looking in dress, gesture, and appointment, far move like a guerilla than +a regular force. Then again, the strange contrast of the miserable hut +with falling chimney and ruined walls, to the glitter of the mounted guard +of honor who sat motionless beside it, served to pass the time; but as the +night was already far advanced, I turned towards my quarters, hoping that +the next morning might gratify my curiosity about my friends. +</p> +<p> +Beside the tent where I was billeted, I found Mike in waiting, who, the +moment he saw me, came hastily forward with a letter in his hand. An +officer of Sir Arthur’s staff had left it while I was absent, desiring +Mike on no account to omit its delivery the first instant he met me. The +hand—not a very legible one—was perfectly unknown to me, and +the appearance of the billet such as betrayed no over-scrupulous care in +the writer. +</p> +<p> +I trimmed my lamp leisurely, threw a fresh log upon the fire, disposed +myself completely at full length beside it, and then proceeded to form +acquaintance with my unknown correspondent. I will not attempt any +description of the feelings which gradually filled me as I read on; the +letter itself will suggest them to those who know my story. It ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +PLACENTIA, July 8, 1809. +DEAR O’MALLEY,—Although I’d rather march to Lisbon barefoot +than write three lines, Fred Power insists upon my turning scribe, +as he has a notion you’ll be up at Cuesta’s headquarters about this +time. You’re in a nice scrape, devil a lie in it! Here has Fred +been fighting that fellow Trevyllian for you,—all because you would +not have patience and fight him yourself the morning you left the +Douro,—so much for haste! Let it be a lesson to you for life. + +Poor Fred got the ball in his hip, and the devil a one of the doctors +can find it. But he’s getting better any way, and going to Lisbon +for change of air. Meanwhile, since Power’s been wounded, Trevyllian’s +speaking very hardly of you, and they all say here you must +come back—no matter how—and put matters to rights. Fred has +placed the thing in my hands, and I’m thinking we’d better call out +the “heavies” by turns,—for most of them stand by Trevyllian. +Maurice Quill and myself sat up considering it last night; but, +somehow, we don’t clearly remember to-day a beautiful plan we hit +upon. However, we’ll have at it again this evening. Meanwhile, +come over here, and let us be doing something. We hear that old +Monsoon has blown up a town, a bridge, and a big convent. They +must have been hiding the plunder very closely, or he’d never have +been reduced to such extremities. We’ll have a brush with the +French soon. +Yours most eagerly, +D. O’SHAUGHNESSY. +</pre> +<p> +My first thought, as I ran my eye over these lines, was to seek for +Power’s note, written on the morning we parted. I opened it, and to my +horror found that it only related to my quarrel with Hammersley. My +meeting with Trevyllian had been during Fred’s absence, and when he +assured me that all was satisfactorily arranged, and a full explanation +tendered, that nothing interfered with my departure,—I utterly +forgot that he was only aware of one half my troubles, and in the haste +and bustle of my departure, had not a moment left me to collect myself and +think calmly on the matter. The two letters lay before me, and as I +thought over the stain upon my character thus unwittingly incurred; the +blast I had thrown upon my reputation; the wound of my poor friend, who +exposed himself for my sake,—I grew sick at heart, and the bitter +tears of agony burst from my eyes. +</p> +<p> +That weary night passed slowly over; the blight of all my prospects, when +they seemed fairest and brightest, presented itself to me in a hundred +shapes; and when, overcome by fatigue and exhaustion, I closed my eyes to +sleep, it was only to follow up in my dreams my waking thoughts. Morning +came at length; but its bright sunshine and balmy air brought no comfort +to me. I absolutely dreaded to meet my brother officers; I felt that in +such a position as I stood, no half or partial explanation could suffice +to set me right in their estimation; and yet, what opportunity had I for +aught else? Irresolute how to act, I sat leaning my head upon my hands, +when I heard a footstep approach; I looked up and saw before me no other +than my poor friend Sparks, from whom I had been separated so long. Any +other adviser at such a moment would, I acknowledge, have been as welcome; +for the poor fellow knew but little of the world, and still less of the +service. However, one glance convinced me that his heart at least was +true; and I shook his outstretched hand with delight. In a few words he +informed me that Merivale had secretly commissioned him to come over in +the hope of meeting me; that although all the 14th men were persuaded that +I was not to blame in what had occurred,—yet that reports so +injurious had gone abroad, so many partial and imperfect statements were +circulated, that nothing but my return to headquarters would avail, and +that I must not lose a moment in having Trevyllian out, with whom all the +misrepresentation had originated. +</p> +<p> +“This, of course,” said Sparks, “is to be a secret; Merivale, being our +colonel—” + </p> +<p> +“Of course,” said I, “he cannot countenance, much less counsel, such a +proceeding; Now, then, for the road.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; but you cannot leave before making your report. Gordon expects to +see you at eleven; he told me so last night.” + </p> +<p> +“I cannot help it; I shall not wait; my mind is made up. My career here +matters but little in comparison with this horrid charge. I shall be +broke, but I shall be avenged.” + </p> +<p> +“Come, come, O’Malley; you are in our hands now, and you must be guided. +You <i>shall</i> wait; you shall see Gordon. Half an hour will make your +report, and I have relays of horses along the road, and we shall reach +Placentia by nightfall.” + </p> +<p> +There was a tone of firmness in this, so unlike anything I ever looked for +in the speaker, and withal so much of foresight and precaution, that I +could scarcely credit my senses as he spoke. Having at length agreed to +his proposal, Sparks left me to think over my return of the Legion, +promising that immediately after my interview with the military secretary, +we should start together for headquarters. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LXIX. +</h2> +<p> +MAJOR O’SHAUGHNESSY. +</p> +<p> +“This is Major O’Shaughnessy’s quarters, sir,” said a sergeant, as he +stopped short at the door of a small, low house in the midst of an olive +plantation; an Irish wolf-dog—the well-known companion of the major—lay +stretched across the entrance, watching with eager and bloodshot eyes the +process of cutting up a bullock, which two soldiers in undress jackets +were performing within a few yards of the spot. +</p> +<p> +Stepping cautiously across the savage-looking sentinel, I entered the +little hall, and finding no one near, passed into a small room, the door +of which lay half open. +</p> +<p> +A very palpable odor of cigars and brandy proclaimed, even without his +presence, that this was O’Shaughnessy’s sitting-room; so I sat myself down +upon an old-fashioned sofa to wait patiently for his return, which I heard +would be immediately after the evening parade. Sparks had become knocked +up during our ride, so that for the last three leagues I was alone, and +like most men in such circumstances, pressed on only the harder. +Completely worn out for want of rest, I had scarcely placed myself on the +sofa when I fell sound asleep. When I awoke, all was dark around me, save +the faint flickerings of the wood embers on the hearth, and for some +moments I could not remember where I was; but by degrees recollection +came, and as I thought over my position and its possible consequences, I +was again nearly dropping to sleep, when the door suddenly opened, and a +heavy step sounded on the floor. +</p> +<p> +I lay still and spoke not, as a large figure in a cloak approached the +fire-place, and stooping down endeavored to light a candle at the fast +expiring fire. +</p> +<p> +I had little difficulty in detecting the major even by the half-light; a +muttered execration upon the candle, given with an energy that only an +Irishman ever bestows upon slight matters, soon satisfied me on this head. +</p> +<p> +“May the Devil fly away with the commissary and the chandler to the +forces! Ah, you’ve lit at last!” + </p> +<p> +With these words he stood up, and his eyes falling on me at the moment, he +sprang a yard or two backwards, exclaiming as he did so, “The blessed +Virgin be near us, what’s this?” a most energetic crossing of himself +accompanying his words. My pale and haggard face, thus suddenly presented, +having suggested to the worthy major the impression of a supernatural +visitor, a hearty burst of laughter, which I could not resist, was my only +answer; and the next moment O’Shaughnessy was wrenching my hand in a grasp +like a steel vice. +</p> +<p> +“Upon my conscience, I thought it was your ghost; and if you kept quiet a +little longer, I was going to promise you Christian burial, and as many +Masses for your soul as my uncle the bishop could say between this and +Easter. How are you, my boy? A little thin, and something paler, I think, +than when you left us.” + </p> +<p> +Having assured him that fatigue and hunger were in a great measure the +cause of my sickly looks, the major proceeded to place before me the <i>débris</i> +of his day’s dinner, with a sufficiency of bottles to satisfy a +mess-table, keeping up as he went a running fire of conversation. +</p> +<p> +“I’m as glad as if the Lord took the senior major, to see you here this +night. With the blessing of Providence we’ll shoot Trevyllian in the +morning, and any more of the heavies that like it. You are an ill-treated +man, that’s what it is, and Dan O’Shaughnessy says it. Help yourself, my +boy; crusty old port in that bottle as ever you touched your lips to. +Power’s getting all right; it was contract powder, warranted not to kill. +Bad luck to the commissaries once more! With such ammunition Sir Arthur +does right to trust most to the bayonet. And how is Monsoon, the old +rogue?” + </p> +<p> +“Gloriously, living in the midst of wine and olives.” + </p> +<p> +“No fear of him, the old sinner; but he is a fine fellow, after all. +Charley, you are eating nothing, boy.” + </p> +<p> +“To tell you the truth, I’m far more anxious to talk with you at this +moment than aught else.” + </p> +<p> +“So you shall: the night’s young. Meanwhile, I had better not delay +matters. You want to have Trevyllian out,—is not that so?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course; you are aware how it happened?” + </p> +<p> +“I know everything. Go on with your supper, and don’t mind me; I’ll be +back in twenty minutes or less.” + </p> +<p> +Without waiting for any reply, he threw his cloak around him, and strode +out of the room. Once more I was alone; but already my frame of mind was +altered,—the cheering tone of my reckless, gallant countryman had +raised my spirits, and I felt animated by his very manner. +</p> +<p> +An hour elapsed before the major returned; and when he did come, his +appearance and gestures bespoke anger and disappointment. He threw himself +hurriedly into a seat, and for some minutes never spoke. +</p> +<p> +“The world’s beautifully changed, anyhow, since I began it, O’Malley,—when +you thanked a man civilly that asked you to fight him! The Devil take the +cowards, say I.” + </p> +<p> +“What has happened? Tell me, I beseech you?” + </p> +<p> +“He won’t fight,” said the major, blurting out the words as if they would +choke him. +</p> +<p> +“He’ll not fight! And why?” + </p> +<p> +The major was silent. He seemed confused and embarrassed. He turned from +the fire to the table, from the table to the fire, poured out a glass of +wine, drank it hastily off, and springing from his chair, paced the room +with long, impatient strides. +</p> +<p> +“My dear O’Shaughnessy, explain, I beg of you. Does he refuse to meet me +for any reason—” + </p> +<p> +“He does,” said the major, turning on me a look of deep feeling as he +spoke; “and he does it to ruin you, my boy. But as sure as my name is Dan, +he’ll fail this time. He was sitting with his friend Beaufort when I +reached his quarters, and received me with all the ceremonious politeness +he well knows how to assume. I told him in a few words the object of my +visit; upon which Trevyllian, standing up, referred me to his friend for a +reply, and left the room. I thought that all was right, and sat down to +discuss, as I believed, preliminaries, when the cool puppy, with his back +to the fire, carelessly lisped out, ‘It can’t be, Major; your friend is +too late.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Too late? too late?’ said I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Yes, precisely so; not up to time. The affair should have come off some +weeks since. We won’t meet him now.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘This is really your answer?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘This is really my answer; and not only so, but the decision of our +mess.’ +</p> +<p> +“What I said after this <i>he</i> may remember; devil take me if <i>I</i> +can. But I have a vague recollection of saying something that the +aforesaid mess will never petition the Horse Guards to put on their +regimental colors; and here I am—” + </p> +<p> +With these words the major gulped down a full goblet of wine, and once +more resumed his walk through the room. I shall not attempt to record the +feelings which agitated me during the major’s recital. In one rapid glance +I saw the aim of my vindictive enemy. My honor, not my life, was the +object he sought for; and ten thousand times more than ever did I pant for +the opportunity to confront him in a deadly combat. +</p> +<p> +“Charley,” said O’Shaughnessy, at length, placing his hand upon my +shoulder, “you must get to bed now. Nothing more can be done to-night in +any way. Be assured of one thing, my boy,—I’ll not desert you; and +if that assurance can give you a sound sleep, you’ll not need a lullaby.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LX. +</h2> +<p> +PRELIMINARIES. +</p> +<p> +I awoke refreshed on the following morning, and came down to breakfast +with a lighter heart than I had even hoped for. A secret feeling that all +would go well had somehow taken possession of me, and I longed for +O’Shaughnessy’s coming, trusting that he might be able to confirm my +hopes. His servant informed me that the major had been absent since +daybreak, and left orders that he was not to be waited for at breakfast. +</p> +<p> +I was not destined, however, to pass a solitary time in his absence, for +every moment brought some new arrival to visit me; and during the morning +the colonel and every officer of the regiment not on actual duty came +over. I soon learned that the feeling respecting Trevyllian’s conduct was +one of unmixed condemnation among my own corps, but that a kind of party +spirit which had subsisted for some months between the regiment he +belonged to and the 14th had given a graver character to the affair, and +induced many men to take up his views of the transaction; and although I +heard of none who attributed my absence to any dislike to a meeting, yet +there were several who conceived that, by my going at the time, I had +forfeited all claim to satisfaction at his hands. +</p> +<p> +“Now that Merivale is gone,” said an officer to me as the colonel left the +room, “I may confess to you that he sees nothing to blame in your conduct +throughout; and even had you been aware of how matters were circumstanced, +your duty was too imperative to have preferred your personal consideration +to it.” + </p> +<p> +“Does any one know where Conyers is?” said Baker. +</p> +<p> +“The story goes that Conyers can assist us here. Conyers is at Zaza la +Mayor, with the 28th; but what can he do?” + </p> +<p> +“That I’m not able to tell you; but I know O’Shaughnessy heard something +at parade this morning, and has set off in search of him on every side.” + </p> +<p> +“Was Conyers ever out with Trevyllian?” + </p> +<p> +“Not as a principal, I believe. The report is, however, that he knows more +about him than other people, as Tom certainly does of everybody.” + </p> +<p> +“It is rather a new thing for Trevyllian to refuse a meeting. They say, +O’Malley, he has heard of your shooting.” + </p> +<p> +“No, no,” said another; “he cares very little for any man’s pistol. If the +story be true, he fires a second or two before his adversary; at least, it +was in that way he killed Carysfort.” + </p> +<p> +“Here comes the great O’Shaughnessy!” cried some one at the window; and +the next moment the heavy gallop of a horse was heard along the causeway. +In an instant we all rushed to the door to receive him. +</p> +<p> +“It’s all right, lads!” cried he, as he came up. “We have him this time!” + </p> +<p> +“How?” “When?” “Why?” “In what way have you managed?” fell from a dozen +voices, as the major elbowed his way through the crowd to the +sitting-room. +</p> +<p> +“In the first place,” said O’Shanghnessy, drawing a long breath, “I have +promised secrecy as to the steps of this transaction; secondly, if I +hadn’t, it would puzzle me to break it, for I’ll be hanged if I know more +than yourselves. Tom Conyers wrote me a few lines for Trevyllian, and +Trevyllian pledges himself to meet our friend; and that’s all we need know +or care for.” + </p> +<p> +“Then you have seen Trevyllian this morning?” + </p> +<p> +“No; Beaufort met me at the village. But even now it seems this affair is +never to come off. Trevyllian has been sent with a forage party towards +Lesco. However, that can’t be a long absence. But, for Heaven’s sake, let +me have some breakfast!” + </p> +<p> +While O’Shaughnessy proceeded to attack the viands before him, the others +chatted about in little groups; but all wore the pleased and happy looks +of men who had rescued their friend from a menaced danger. As for myself, +my heart swelled with gratitude to the kind fellows around me. +</p> +<p> +“How has Conyers assisted us at this juncture?” was my first question to +O’Shaughnessy, when we were once more alone. +</p> +<p> +“I am not at liberty to speak on that subject, Charley. But be satisfied +the reasons for which Trevyllian meets you are fair and honorable.” + </p> +<p> +“I am content.” + </p> +<p> +“The only thing now to be done is to have the meeting as soon as +possible.” + </p> +<p> +“We are all agreed upon that point,” said I; “and the more so as the +matter had better be decided before Sir Arthur’s return.” + </p> +<p> +“Quite true. And now, O’Malley, you had better join your people as soon as +may be, and it will put a stop to all talking about the matter.” + </p> +<p> +The advice was good, and I lost no time in complying with it; and when I +joined the regiment that day at mess, it was with a light heart and a +cheerful spirit, for come what might of the affair, of one thing I was +certain,—my character was now put above any reach of aspersion, and +my reputation beyond attack. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0061" id="link2HCH0061"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LXI. +</h2> +<p> +ALL RIGHT. +</p> +<p> +Some days after coming back to headquarters, I was returning from a visit +I had been making to a friend at one of the outposts, when an officer whom +I knew slightly overtook me and informed me that Major O’Shaughnessy had +been to my quarters in search of me, and had sent persons in different +directions to find me. +</p> +<p> +Suspecting the object of the major’s haste, I hurried on at once, and as I +rode up to the spot, found him in the midst of a group of officers, +engaged, to all appearance, in most eager conversation. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, here he comes!” cried he, as I cantered up. “Come, my boy, doff the +blue frock as soon as you can, and turn out in your best-fitting black. +Everything has been settled for this evening at seven o’clock, and we have +no time to lose.” + </p> +<p> +“I understand you,” said I, “and shall not keep you waiting.” So saying, I +sprang from my saddle and hastened to my quarters. As I entered the room I +was followed by O’Shaughnessy, who closed the door after him as he came +in, and having turned the key in it, sat down beside the table, and +folding his arms, seemed buried in reflection. As I proceeded with my +toilet he returned no answers to the numerous questions I put to him, +either as to the time of Trevyllian’s return, the place of the meeting, or +any other part of the transaction. His attention seemed to wander far from +all around and about him; and as he muttered indistinctly to himself, the +few words I could catch bore not in the remotest degree upon the matter +before us. +</p> +<p> +“I have written a letter or two here, Major,” said I, opening my +writing-desk. “In case anything happens, you will look to a few things I +have mentioned here. Somehow, I could not write to poor Fred Power; but +you must tell him from me that his noble conduct towards me was the last +thing I spoke of.” + </p> +<p> +“What confounded nonsense you are talking!” said O’Shaughnessy, springing +from his seat and crossing the room with tremendous strides, “croaking +away there as if the bullet was in your thorax. Hang it, man, bear up!” + </p> +<p> +“But, Major, my dear friend, what the deuce are you thinking of? The few +things I mentioned—” + </p> +<p> +“The devil! you are not going over it all again, are you?” said he, in a +voice of no measured tone. +</p> +<p> +I now began to feel irritated in turn, and really looked at him for some +seconds in considerable amazement. That he should have mistaken the +directions I was giving him and attributed them to any cowardice was too +insulting a thought to bear; and yet how otherwise was I to understand the +very coarse style of his interruption? +</p> +<p> +At length my temper got the victory, and with a voice of most measured +calmness, I said, “Major O’Shaughnessy, I am grateful, most deeply +grateful, for the part you have acted towards me in this difficult +business; at the same time, as you now appear to disapprove of my conduct +and bearing, when I am most firmly determined to alter nothing, I shall +beg to relieve you of the unpleasant office of my friend.” + </p> +<p> +“Heaven grant that you could do so!” said he, interrupting me, while his +clasped hands and eager look attested the vehemence of the wish. He paused +for a moment, then, springing from his chair, rushed towards me, and threw +his arms around me. “No, my boy, I can’t do it,—I can’t do it. I +have tried to bully myself into insensibility for this evening’s work,—I +have endeavored to be rude to you, that you might insult me, and steel my +heart against what might happen; but it won’t do, Charley, it won’t do.” + </p> +<p> +With these words the big tears rolled down his stern cheeks, and his voice +became thick with emotion. +</p> +<p> +“But for me, all this need not have happened. I know it; I feel it. I +hurried on this meeting; your character stood fair and unblemished without +that,—at least they tell me so now; and I still have to assure you—” + </p> +<p> +“Come, my dear, kind friend, don’t give way in this fashion. You have +stood manfully by me through every step of the road; don’t desert me on +the threshold of—” + </p> +<p> +“The grave, O’Malley?” + </p> +<p> +“I don’t think so, Major; but see, half-past six! Look to these pistols +for me. Are they likely to object to hair-triggers?” + </p> +<p> +A knocking at the door turned off our attention, and the next moment +Baker’s voice was heard. +</p> +<p> +“O’Malley, you’ll be close run for time; the meeting-place is full three +miles from this.” + </p> +<p> +I seized the key and opened the door. At the same instant, O’Shaughnessy +rose and turned towards the window, holding one of the pistols in his +hand. +</p> +<p> +“Look at that, Baker,—what a sweet tool it is!” said he, in a voice +that actually made me start. Not a trace of his late excitement remained; +his usually dry, half-humorous manner had returned, and his droll features +were as full of their own easy, devil-may-care fun as ever. +</p> +<p> +“Here comes the drag,” said Baker. “We can drive nearly all the way, +unless you prefer riding.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course not. Keep your hand steady, Charley, and if you don’t bring him +down with that saw-handle, you’re not your uncle’s nephew.” + </p> +<p> +With these words we mounted into the tax-cart, and set off for the +meeting-place. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0062" id="link2HCH0062"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LXII. +</h2> +<p> +THE DUEL. +</p> +<p> +A small and narrow ravine between the two furze-covered dells led to the +open space where the meeting had been arranged for. As we reached this, +therefore, we were obliged to descend from the drag, and proceed the +remainder of the way afoot. We had not gone many yards when a step was +heard approaching, and the next moment Beaufort appeared. His usually easy +and <i>dégagé</i> air was certainly tinged with somewhat of constraint; +and though his soft voice and half smile were as perfect as ever, a +slightly flurried expression about the lip, and a quick and nervous motion +of his eyebrow, bespoke a heart not completely at ease. He lifted his +foraging cap most ceremoniously to salute us as we came up, and casting an +anxious look to see if any others were following, stood quite still. +</p> +<p> +“I think it right to mention, Major O’Shaughnessy,” said he, in a voice of +most dulcet sweetness, “that I am the only friend of Captain Trevyllian on +the ground; and though I have not the slightest objection to Captain Baker +being present, I hope you will see the propriety of limiting the witnesses +to the three persons now here.” + </p> +<p> +“Upon my conscience, as far as I am concerned, or my friend either, we are +perfectly indifferent if we fight before three or three thousand. In +Ireland we rather like a crowd.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course, then, as you see no objection to my proposition, I may count +upon your co-operation in the event of any intrusion,—I mean, that +while we, upon our sides, will not permit any of our friends to come +forward, you will equally exert yourself with yours.” + </p> +<p> +“Here we are, Baker and myself, neither more nor less. We expect no one, +and want no one; so that I humbly conceive all the preliminaries you are +talking of will never be required.” + </p> +<p> +Beaufort tried to smile, and bit his lips, while a small red spot upon his +cheek spoke that some deeper feeling of irritation than the mere careless +manner of the major could account for, still rankled in his bosom. We now +walked on without speaking, except when occasionally some passing +observation of Beaufort upon the fineness of the evening, or the rugged +nature of the road, broke the silence. As we emerged from the little +mountain pass into the open meadow land, the tall and soldier-like figure +of Trevyllian was the first object that presented itself. He was standing +beside a little stone cross that stood above a holy well, and seemed +occupied in deciphering the inscription. He turned at the noise of our +approach, and calmly waited our coming. His eye glanced quickly from the +features of O’Shaughnessy to those of Baker; but seeming rapidly reassured +as he walked forward, his face at once recovered its usual severity and +its cold, impassive look of sternness. +</p> +<p> +“All right!” said Beaufort, in a whisper the tones of which I overheard, +as he drew near to his friend. Trevyllian smiled in return, but did not +speak. During the few moments which passed in conversation between the +seconds, I turned from the spot with Baker, and had scarcely time to +address a question to him, when O’Shaughnessy called out, “Hollo, Baker!—come +here a moment!” The three seemed now in eager discussion for some minutes, +when Baker walked towards Trevyllian, and saying something, appeared to +wait for his reply. This being obtained, he joined the others, and the +moment afterwards came to where I was standing. “You are to toss for first +shot, O’Malley. O’Shaughnessy has made that proposition, and the others +agree that with two crack marksmen, it is perhaps the fairest way. I +suppose you have no objection?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course, I shall make none. Whatever O’Shaughnessy decides for me I am +ready to abide by.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, as to the distance?” said Beaufort, loud enough to be heard +by me where I was standing. O’Shaughnessy’s reply I could not catch, but +it was evident, from the tone of both parties, that some difference +existed on the point. +</p> +<p> +“Captain Baker shall decide between us,” said Beaufort, at length, and +they all walked away to some distance. During all the while I could +perceive that Trevyllian’s uneasiness and impatience seemed extreme; he +looked from the speakers to the little mountain pass, and strained his +eyes in every direction. It was clear that he dreaded some interruption. +At last, unable any longer to control his feelings, he called out, +“Beaufort, I say, what the devil are we waiting for now?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing at present,” said Beaufort, as he came forward with a dollar in +his hand. “Come, Major O’Shaughnessy, you shall call for your friend.” + </p> +<p> +He pitched the piece of money as he spoke high into the air, and watched +it as it fell on the soft grass beneath. +</p> +<p> +“Head! for a thousand,” cried O’Shaughnessy, running over and stooping +down; “and head it is!” + </p> +<p> +“You’ve won the first shot,” whispered Baker; “for Heaven’s sake be cool!” + </p> +<p> +Beaufort grew deadly pale as he bent over the crownpiece, and seemed +scarcely to have courage to look his friend in his face. Not so +Trevyllian; he pulled off his gloves without the slightest semblance of +emotion, buttoned up his well-fitting black frock to the throat, and +throwing a rapid glance around, seemed only eager to begin the combat. +</p> +<p> +“Fifteen paces, and the words, ‘One, two!’” + </p> +<p> +“Exactly. My cane shall mark the spot.” + </p> +<p> +“Devilish long paces you make them,” said O’Shaughnessy, who did not seem +to approve of the distance. “They have some confounded advantage in this, +depend upon it,” said the major, in a whisper to Baker. +</p> +<p> +“Are you ready?” inquired Beaufort. +</p> +<p> +“Ready,—quite ready!” + </p> +<p> +“Take your ground, then!” + </p> +<p> +As Trevyllian moved forward to his place, he muttered something to his +friend. I did not hear the first part, but the latter words which met me +were ominous enough: “For as I intend to shoot him, ‘tis just as well as +it is.” + </p> +<p> +Whether this was meant to be overheard and intimidate me I knew not; but +its effect proved directly opposite. My firm resolution to hit my +antagonist was now confirmed, and no compunctious visitings unnerved my +arm. As we took our places some little delay again took place, the flint +of my pistol having fallen; and thus we remained full ten or twelve +seconds steadily regarding each other. At length O’Shaughnessy came +forward, and putting my weapon in my hand, whispered low, “Remember, you +have but one chance.” + </p> +<p> +“You are both ready?” cried Beaufort. +</p> +<p> +“Ready!” + </p> +<p> +“Then: One, two—” + </p> +<p> +The last word was lost in the report of my pistol, which went off at the +instant. For a second the flash and smoke obstructed my view; but the +moment after I saw Trevyllian stretched upon the ground, with his friend +kneeling beside him. My first impulse was to rush over, for now all +feeling of enmity was buried in most heartfelt anxiety for his fate; but +as I was stepping forward, O’Shaughnessy called out, “Stand fast, boy, +he’s only wounded!” and the same moment he rose slowly from the ground, +with the assistance of his friend, and looked with the same wild gaze +around him. Such a look! I shall never forget it; there was that intense +expression of searching anxiety, as if he sought to trace the outlines of +some visionary spirit as it receded before him. Quickly reassured, as it +seemed, by the glance he threw on all sides, his countenance lighted up, +not with pleasure, but with a fiendish expression of revengeful triumph, +which even his voice evinced as he called out: “It’s my turn now.” + </p> +<p> +I felt the words in their full force, as I stood silently awaiting my +death wound. The pause was a long one. Twice did he interrupt his friend, +as he was about to give the word, by an expression of suffering, pressing +his hand upon his side, and seeming to writhe with torture; and yet this +was mere counterfeit. +</p> +<p> +O’Shaughnessy was now coming forward to interfere and prevent these +interruptions, when Trevyllian called out in a firm tone, “I’m ready!” At +the words, “One, two!” the pistol slowly rose; his dark eye measured me +coolly, steadily; his lip curled; and just as I felt that my last moment +of life had arrived, a heavy sound of a horse galloping along the rocky +causeway seemed to take off his attention. His frame trembled, his hand +shook, and jerking upwards his weapon, the ball passed high above my head. +</p> +<p> +“You bear me witness I fired in the air,” said Trevyllian, while the large +drops of perspiration rolled from his forehead, and his features worked as +if in a fit. +</p> +<p> +“You saw it, sir; and you, Beaufort, my friend, you also. Speak! Why will +you not speak?” + </p> +<p> +“Be calm, Trevyllian; be calm, for Heaven’s sake! What’s the matter with +you?” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/0484.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="The Coat of Mail. " /><br /> +</div> +<!-- IMAGE END --> +<p> +“The affair is then ended,” said Baker, “and most happily so. You are, I +hope, not dangerously wounded.” + </p> +<p> +As he spoke, Trevyllian’s features grew deadly livid; his half-open mouth +quivered slightly, his eyes became fixed, and his arm dropped heavily +beside him, and with a low moan he fell fainting to the ground. +</p> +<p> +As we bent over him I now perceived that another person had joined our +party; he was a short, determined-looking man of about forty, with black +eyes and aquiline features. Before I had time to guess who it might be, I +heard O’Shaughnessy address him as Colonel Conyers. +</p> +<p> +“He is dying!” said Beaufort, still stooping over his friend, whose cold +hand he grasped within his own. “Poor, poor fellow!” + </p> +<p> +“He fired in the air,” said Baker, as he spoke in reply to a question from +Conyers. +</p> +<p> +What he answered I heard not, but Baker rejoined,— +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I am certain of it. We all saw it.” + </p> +<p> +“Had you not better examine his wounds?” said Conyers, in a tone of +sarcastic irony I could almost have struck him for. “Is your friend not +hit? Perhaps he is bleeding?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” said O’Shaughnessy, “let us look to the poor fellow now.” So +saying, with Beaufort’s aid he unbuttoned his frock and succeeded in +opening his waistcoat. There was no trace of blood anywhere, and the idea +of internal hemorrhage at once occurred to us, when Conyers, stooping +down, pushed me aside, saying at the same time,— +</p> +<p> +“Your fears for his safety need not distress you much,—look here!” + As he spoke he tore open his shirt, and disclosed to our almost doubting +senses a vest of chain-mail armor fitting close next the skin and +completely pistol-proof. +</p> +<p> +I cannot describe the effect this sight produced upon us. Beaufort sprang +to his feet with a bound as he screamed out, rather than spoke, “No man +believes me to have been aware—” + </p> +<p> +“No, no, Beaufort, your reputation is very far removed from such a stain,” + said Conyers. +</p> +<p> +O’Shaughnessy was perfectly speechless. He looked from one to the other, +as though some unexplained mystery still remained, and only seemed +restored to any sense of consciousness as Baker said, “I can feel no pulse +at his wrist,—his heart, too, does not beat.” + </p> +<p> +Conyers placed his hand upon his bosom, then felt along his throat, lifted +up an arm, and letting it fall heavily upon the ground, he muttered, “He +is dead!” + </p> +<p> +It was true. No wound had pierced him,—the pistol bullet was found +within his clothes. Some tremendous conflict of the spirit within had +snapped the cords of life, and the strong man had perished in his agony. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0063" id="link2HCH0063"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LXIII. +</h2> +<p> +NEWS FROM GALWAY. +</p> +<p> +I have but a vague and most imperfect recollection of the events which +followed this dreadful scene; for some days my faculties seemed stunned +and paralyzed, and my thoughts clung to the minute detail of the ground,—the +persons about, the mountain path, and most of all the half-stifled cry +that spoke the broken heart,—with a tenacity that verged upon +madness. +</p> +<p> +A court-martial was appointed to inquire into the affair; and although I +have been since told that my deportment was calm, and my answers were firm +and collected, yet I remember nothing of the proceedings. +</p> +<p> +The inquiry, through a feeling of delicacy for the friends of him who was +no more, was made as brief and as private as possible. Beaufort proved the +facts which exonerated me from any imputation in the matter; and upon the +same day the court delivered the decision: “That Lieutenant O’Malley was +not guilty of the charges preferred against him, and that he should be +released from arrest, and join his regiment.” + </p> +<p> +Nothing could be more kind and considerate than the conduct of my brother +officers,—a hundred little plans and devices for making me forget +the late unhappy event were suggested and practised,—and I look back +to that melancholy period, marked as it was by the saddest circumstance of +my life, as one in which I received more of truly friendly companionship +than even my palmiest days of prosperity boasted. +</p> +<p> +While, therefore, I deeply felt the good part my friends were performing +towards me, I was still totally unsuited to join in the happy current of +their daily pleasures and amusements. The gay and unreflecting character +of O’Shaughnessy, the careless merriment of my brother officers, jarred +upon my nerves, and rendered me irritable and excited; and I sought in +lonely rides and unfrequented walks, the peace of spirit that calm +reflection and a firm purpose for the future rarely fail to lead to. +</p> +<p> +There is in deep sorrow a touch of the prophetic. It is at seasons when +the heart is bowed down with grief, and the spirit wasted with suffering, +that the veil which conceals the future seems to be removed, and a glance, +short and fleeting as the lightning flash, is permitted us into the gloomy +valley before us. +</p> +<p> +Misfortunes, too, come not singly,—the seared heart is not suffered +to heal from one affliction ere another succeeds it; and this anticipation +of the coming evil is, perhaps, one of the most poignant features of +grief,—the ever-watchful apprehension, the ever-rising question, +“What next?” is a torture that never sleeps. +</p> +<p> +This was the frame of my mind for several days after I returned to my +duty,—a morbid sense of some threatened danger being my last thought +at night and my first on awakening. I had not heard from home since my +arrival in the Peninsula; a thousand vague fancies haunted me now that +some brooding misfortune awaited me. My poor uncle never left my thoughts. +Was he well; was he happy? Was he, as he ever used to be, surrounded by +the friends he loved,—the old familiar faces around the hospitable +hearth his kindliness had hallowed in my memory as something sacred? Oh, +could I but see his manly smile, or hear his voice! Could I but feel his +hand upon my head, as he was wont to press it, while words of comfort fell +from his lips, and sunk into my heart! +</p> +<p> +Such were my thoughts one morning as I sauntered, unaccompanied, from my +quarters. I had not gone far, when my attention was aroused by the noise +of a mule-cart, whose jingling bells and clattering timbers announced its +approach by the road I was walking. Another turn of the way brought it +into view; and I saw from the gay costume of the driver, as well as a +small orange flag which decorated the conveyance, that it was the +mail-cart with letters from Lisbon. +</p> +<p> +Full as my mind was with thoughts of home, I turned hastily back, and +retraced my steps towards the camp. When I reached the adjutant-general’s +quarters, I found a considerable number of officers assembled; the report +that the post had come was a rumor of interest to all, and accordingly, +every moment brought fresh arrivals, pouring in from all sides, and +eagerly inquiring, “If the bags had been opened?” The scene of riot, +confusion, and excitement, when that event did take place, exceeded all +belief, each man reading his letter half aloud, as if his private affairs +and domestic concerns must interest his neighbors, amidst a volley of +exclamations of surprise, pleasure, or occasional anger, as the +intelligence severally suggested,—the disappointed expectants +cursing their idle correspondents, bemoaning their fate about remittances +that never arrived, or drafts never honored; while here and there some +public benefactor, with an outspread “Times” or “Chronicle,” was retailing +the narrative of our own exploits in the Peninsula or the more novel +changes in the world of politics since we left England. A cross-fire of +news and London gossip ringing on every side made up a perfect Babel most +difficult to form an idea of. The jargon partook of every accent and +intonation the empire boasts of; and from the sharp precision of the North +Tweeder to the broad doric of Kerry, every portion, almost every county, +of Great Britain had its representative. Here was a Scotch paymaster, in a +lugubrious tone, detailing to his friend the apparently not over-welcome +news that Mistress M’Elwain had just been safely delivered of twins, +which, with their mother, were doing as well as possible. Here an eager +Irishman, turning over the pages rather than reading his letter, while he +exclaimed to his friend,— +</p> +<p> +“Oh, the devil a rap she’s sent me. The old story about runaway tenants +and distress notices,—sorrow else tenants seem to do in Ireland than +run away every half-year.” + </p> +<p> +A little apart some sentimental-looking cockney was devouring a very +crossed epistle which he pressed to his lips whenever any one looked at +him; while a host of others satisfied themselves by reading in a kind of +buzzing undertone, every now and then interrupting themselves with some +broken exclamation as commentary,—such as, “Of course she will!” + “Never knew him better!” “That’s the girl for my money!” “Fifty per cent, +the devil!” and so on. At last I was beginning to weary of the scene, and +finding that there appeared to be nothing for me, was turning to leave the +place, when I saw a group of two or three endeavoring to spell out the +address of a letter. +</p> +<p> +“That’s an Irish post-mark, I’ll swear,” said one; “but who can make +anything of the name? It’s devilish like Otaheite, isn’t it?” + </p> +<p> +“I wish my tailor wrote as illegibly,” said another; “I’d keep up a most +animated correspondence with him.” + </p> +<p> +“Here, O’Shaughnessy, you know something of savage life,—spell us +this word here.” + </p> +<p> +“Show it here. What nonsense, it’s as plain as the nose on my face: +‘Master Charles O’Malley, in foreign parts!’” + </p> +<p> +A roar of laughter followed this announcement, which, at any other time, +perhaps, I should have joined in, but which now grated sadly on my ruffled +feelings. +</p> +<p> +“Here, Charley, this is for you,” said the major; and added in a whisper,—“and +upon my conscience, between ourselves, your friend, whoever he is, has a +strong action against his writing-master,—devil such a fist ever I +looked at!” + </p> +<p> +One glance satisfied me as to my correspondent. It was from Father Rush, +my old tutor. I hurried eagerly from the spot, and regaining my quarters, +locked the door, and with a beating heart broke the seal and began, as +well as I was able, to decipher his letter. The hand was cramped and +stiffened with age, and the bold, upright letters were gnarled and twisted +like a rustic fence, and demanded great patience and much time in +unravelling. It ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THE PRIORY, Lady-day, 1809. +MY DEAR MASTER CHARLES,—Your uncle’s feet are so big and +so uneasy that he can’t write, and I am obliged to take up the pen +myself, to tell you how we are doing here since you left us. And, +first of all, the master lost the lawsuit in Dublin, all for the want +of a Galway jury,—but they don’t go up to town for strong reasons +they had; and the Curranolick property is gone to Ned M’Manus, +and may the devil do him good with it! Peggy Maher left this on +Tuesday; she was complaining of a weakness; she’s gone to consult +the doctors. I’m sorry for poor Peggy. + +Owen M’Neil beat the Slatterys out of Portunma on Saturday, +and Jem, they say, is fractured. I trust it’s true, for he never was +good, root nor branch, and we’ve strong reasons to suspect him for +drawing the river with a net at night. Sir Harry Boyle sprained his +wrist, breaking open his bed-room, that he locked when he was inside. +The count and the master were laughing all the evening at +him. Matters are going very hard in the country,—the people paying +their rents regularly, and not caring half as much as they used +about the real gentry and the old families. + +We kept your birthday at the Castle in great style,—had the +militia band from the town, and all the tenants. Mr. James Daly +danced with your old friend Mary Green, and sang a beautiful song, +and was going to raise the devil, but I interfered; he burned down +half the blue drawing-room the last night with his tricks,—not that +your uncle cares, God preserve him to us! it’s little anything like +that would fret him. The count quarrelled with a young gentleman +in the course of the evening, but found out he was only an attorney +from Dublin, so he didn’t shoot him; but he was ducked in the pond +by the people, and your uncle says he hopes they have a true copy of +him at home, as they’ll never know the original. + +Peter died soon after you went away, but Tim hunts the dogs +just as well. They had a beautiful run last Wednesday, and the +Lord [2] sent for him and gave him a five-pound note; but he says +he’d rather see yourself back again than twice as much. They +killed near the big turnip-field, and all went down to see where you +leaped Badger over the sunk fence,—they call it “Hammersley’s +Nose” ever since. Bodkin was at Ballinasloe the last fair, limping +about with a stick; he’s twice as quiet as he used to be, and never +beat any one since that morning. + +Nellie Guire, at the cross-roads, wants to send you four pair of +stockings she knitted for you, and I have a keg of potteen of Barney’s +own making this two months, not knowing how to send it. May be +Sir Arthur himself would like a taste,—he’s an Irishman himself, +and one we’re proud of, too! The Maynooth chaps are flying all +about the country, and making us all uncomfortable,—God’s will be +done, but we used to think ourselves good enough! Your foster-sister, +Kitty Doolan, had a fine boy; it’s to be called after you, and +your uncle’s to give a christening. He bids me tell you to draw +on him when you want money, and that there’s £400 ready for you +now somewhere in Dublin,—I forget the name, and as he’s asleep, I +don’t like asking him. There was a droll devil down here in the +summer that knew you well,—a Mr. Webber. The master treated +him like the Lord Lieutenant, had dinner parties for him, and +gave him Oliver Cromwell to ride over to Meelish. He is expected +again for the cock-shooting, for the master likes him greatly. I’m +done at last, for my paper is finished and the candle just out; so with +every good wish and every good thought, remember your own old +friend,— +PETER RUSH. +P.S. It’s Smart and Sykes, Fleet Street, has the money. +Father O’Shaughnessey, of Ennis, bids me ask if you ever met his +nephew. If you do, make him sing “Larry M’Hale.” I hear it’s a +treat. + +How is Mickey Free going on? There are three decent young +women in the parish he promised to marry, and I suppose he’s pursuing +the same game with the Portuguese. But he was never +remarkable for minding his duties. Tell him I am keeping my eye +on him. +P. R. +</pre> +<p> +[Footnote:2 To excuse Father Rush for any apparent impiety, I must add +that, by “the Lord,” he means “Lord Clanricarde.”] +</p> +<p> +Here concluded this long epistle; and though there were many parts I could +not help smiling at, yet upon the whole I felt sad and dispirited. What I +had long foreseen and anticipated was gradually accomplishing,—the +wreck of an old and honored house, the fall of a name once the watch-word +for all that was benevolent and hospitable in the land. The termination of +the lawsuit I knew must have been a heavy blow to my poor uncle, who, +every consideration of money apart, felt in a legal combat all the +enthusiasm and excitement of a personal conflict. With him there was less +a question of to whom the broad acres reverted, so much as whether that +“scoundrel Tom Basset, the attorney at Athlone, should triumph over us;” + or “M’Manus live in the house as master where his father had officiated as +butler.” It was at this his Irish pride took offence; and straitened +circumstances and narrowed fortunes bore little upon him in comparison +with this feeling. +</p> +<p> +I could see, too, that with breaking fortunes, bad health was making heavy +inroads upon him; and while, with the reckless desperation of ruin, he +still kept open house, I could picture to myself his cheerful eye and +handsome smile but ill concealing the slow but certain march of a broken +heart. +</p> +<p> +My position was doubly painful: for any advice, had I been calculated to +give it, would have seemed an act of indelicate interference from one who +was to benefit by his own counsel; and although I had been reared and +educated as my uncle’s heir, I had no title nor pretension to succeed him +other than his kind feelings respecting me. I could, therefore, only look +on in silence, and watch the painful progress of our downfall without +power to arrest it. +</p> +<p> +These were sad thoughts, and came when my heart was already bowed down +with its affliction. That my poor uncle might be spared the misery which +sooner or later seemed inevitable, was now my only wish; that he might go +down to the grave without the embittering feelings which a ruined fortune +and a fallen house bring home to the heart, was all my prayer. Let him but +close his eyes in the old wainscoted bed-room, beneath the old roof where +his fathers and grand-fathers have done so for centuries. Let the faithful +followers he has known since his childhood stand round his bed; while his +fast-failing sight recognizes each old and well-remembered object, and the +same bell which rang its farewell to the spirit of his ancestors toll for +him, the last of his race. And as for me, there was the wide world before +me, and a narrow resting-place would suffice for a soldier’s sepulchre. +</p> +<p> +As the mail-cart was returning the next day to Lisbon, I immediately sat +down and replied to the worthy Father’s letter, speaking as encouragingly +as I could of my own prospects. I dwelt much upon what was nearest my +heart, and begged of the good priest to watch over my uncle’s health, to +cheer his spirits and support his courage; and that I trusted the day was +not far distant when I should be once more among them, with many a story +of fray and battle-field to enliven their firesides. Pressing him to write +frequently to me, I closed my hurried letter; and having despatched it, +sat sorrowfully down to muse over my fortunes. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0064" id="link2HCH0064"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LXIV. +</h2> +<p> +AN ADVENTURE WITH SIR ARTHUR. +</p> +<p> +The events of the last few days had impressed me with a weight of years. +The awful circumstances of that evening lay heavily at my heart; and +though guiltless of Trevyllian’s blood, the reproach that conscience ever +carries when one has been involved in a death-scene never left my +thoughts. +</p> +<p> +For some time previously I had been depressed and disspirited, and the +awful shock I had sustained broke my nerve and unmanned me greatly. +</p> +<p> +There are times when our sorrows tinge all the colorings of our thoughts, +and one pervading hue of melancholy spreads like a pall upon what we have +of fairest and brightest on earth. So was it now: I had lost hope and +ambition; a sad feeling that my career was destined to misfortune and +mishap gained hourly upon me; and all the bright aspirations of a +soldier’s glory, all my enthusiasm for the pomp and circumstance of +glorious war, fell coldly upon my heart, and I looked upon the chivalry of +a soldier’s life as the empty pageant of a dream. +</p> +<p> +In this sad frame of mind, I avoided all intercourse with my brother +officers; their gay and joyous spirits only jarred upon my brooding +thoughts, and feigning illness, I kept almost entirely to my quarters. +</p> +<p> +The inactivity of our present life weighed also heavily upon me. The +stirring events of a campaign—the march, the bivouac, the picket—call +forth a certain physical exertion that never fails to react upon the +torpid mind. +</p> +<p> +Forgetting all around me, I thought of home; I thought of those whose +hearts I felt were now turning towards me, and considered within myself +how I could have exchanged the home, the days of peaceful happiness there, +for the life of misery and disappointment I now endured. +</p> +<p> +A brooding melancholy gained daily more and more upon me. A wish, to +return to Ireland, a vague and indistinct feeling that my career was not +destined for aught of great and good crept upon me, and I longed to sink +into oblivion, forgotten and forgot. +</p> +<p> +I record this painful feeling here, while it is still a painful memory, as +one of the dark shadows that cross the bright sky of our happiest days. +</p> +<p> +Happy, indeed, are they, as we look back to them and remember the times we +have pronounced ourselves “the most miserable of mankind.” This, somehow, +is a confession we never make later on in life, when real troubles and +true afflictions assail us. Whether we call in more philosophy to our aid, +or that our senses become less acute and discerning, I’m sure I know not. +</p> +<p> +As for me, I confess by far the greater portion of my sorrows seemed to +come in that budding period of existence when life is ever fairest and +most captivating. Not, perhaps, that the fact was really so, but the +spoiled and humored child, whose caprices were a law, felt heavily the +threatening difficulties of his first voyage; while as he continued to +sail over the ocean of life, he braved the storm and the squall, and felt +only gratitude for the favoring breeze that wafted him upon his course. +</p> +<p> +What an admirable remedy for misanthropy is the being placed in a +subordinate condition in life! Had I, at the period that I write, been Sir +Arthur Wellesley; had I even been Marshal Beresford,—to all +certainty I’d have played the very devil with his Majesty’s forces; I’d +have brought my rascals to where they’d have been well-peppered, that’s +certain. +</p> +<p> +But as, luckily for the sake of humanity in general and the well-being of +the service in particular, I was merely Lieutenant O’Malley, 14th Light +Dragoons, the case was very different. With what heavy censure did I +condemn the commander of the forces in my own mind for his want of daring +and enterprise! Whole nights did I pass in endeavoring to account for his +inactivity and lethargy. Why he did not <i>seriatim</i> fall upon Soult, +Ney, and Victor, annihilate the French forces, and sack Madrid, I looked +upon as little less than a riddle; and yet there he waited, drilling, +exercising, and foraging, as if he were at Hounslow. Now most fortunately +here again I was not Sir Arthur. +</p> +<p> +Something in this frame of mind, I was taking one evening a solitary ride +some miles from the camp. Without noticing the circumstance, I had entered +a little mountain tract, when, the ground being broken and uneven, I +dismounted and proceeded a-foot, with the bridle within my arm. I had not +gone far when the clatter of a horse’s hoofs came rapidly towards me, and +though there was something startling in the pace over such a piece of +road, I never lifted my eyes as the horseman came up, but continued my +slow progress onwards, my head sunk upon my bosom. +</p> +<p> +“Hallo, sir!” cried a sharp voice, whose tones seemed, somehow, not heard +for the first time. I looked up, saw a slight figure closely buttoned up +in a blue horseman’s cloak, the collar of which almost entirely hid his +features; he wore a plain, cocked hat without a feather, and was mounted +upon a sharp, wiry-looking hack. +</p> +<p> +“Hallo, sir! What regiment do you belong to?” + </p> +<p> +As I had nothing of the soldier about me, save a blue foraging cap, to +denote my corps, the tone of the demand was little calculated to elicit a +very polished reply; but preferring, as most impertinent, to make no +answer, I passed on without speaking. +</p> +<p> +“Did you hear, sir?” cried the same voice, in a still louder key. “What’s +your regiment?” + </p> +<p> +I now turned round, resolved to question the other in turn; when, to my +inexpressible shame and confusion, he had lowered the collar of his cloak, +and I saw the features of Sir Arthur Wellesley. +</p> +<p> +“Fourteenth Light Dragoons, sir,” said I, blushing as I spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Have you not read the general order, sir? Why have you left the camp?” + </p> +<p> +Now, I had not read a general order nor even heard one for above a +fortnight. So I stammered out some bungling answer. +</p> +<p> +“To your quarters, sir, and report yourself under arrest. What’s your +name?” + </p> +<p> +“Lieutenant O’Malley, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir, your passion for rambling shall be indulged. You shall be sent +to the rear with despatches; and as the army is in advance, probably the +lesson may be serviceable.” So saying, he pressed spurs to his horse, and +was out of sight in a moment. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0065" id="link2HCH0065"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LXV. +</h2> +<p> +TALAVERA. +</p> +<p> +Having been despatched to the rear with orders for General Crawfurd, I did +not reach Talavera till the morning of the 28th. Two days’ hard fighting +had left the contending armies still face to face, and without any decided +advantage on either side. +</p> +<p> +When I arrived upon the battle-field, the combat of the morning was over. +It was then ten o’clock, and the troops were at breakfast, if the few +ounces of wheat sparingly dealt out among them could be dignified by that +name. All was, however, life and animation on every side; the merry laugh, +the passing jest, the careless look, bespoke the free and daring character +of the soldiery, as they sat in groups upon the grass; and except when a +fatigue party passed by, bearing some wounded comrade to the rear, no +touch of seriousness rested upon their hardy features. The morning was +indeed a glorious one; a sky of unclouded blue stretched above a landscape +unsurpassed in loveliness. Far to the right rolled on in placid stream the +broad Tagus, bathing in its eddies the very walls of Talavera, the ground +from which, to our position, gently undulated across a plain of most +fertile richness and terminated on our extreme left in a bold height, +protected in front by a ravine, and flanked by a deep and rugged valley. +</p> +<p> +The Spaniards occupied the right of the line, connecting with our troops +at a rising ground, upon which a strong redoubt had been hastily thrown +up. The fourth division and the Guards were stationed here, next to whom +came Cameron’s brigade and the Germans, Mackenzie and Hill holding the +extreme left of all, which might be called the key of our position. In the +valley beneath the latter were picketed three cavalry regiments, among +which I was not long in detecting my gallant friends of the Twenty-third. +</p> +<p> +As I rode rapidly past, saluting some old familiar face at each moment, I +could not help feeling struck at the evidence of the desperate battle that +so lately had raged there. The whole surface of the hill was one mass of +dead and dying, the bearskin of the French grenadier lying side by side +with the tartan of the Highlander. Deep furrows in the soil showed the +track of the furious cannonade, and the terrible evidences of a bayonet +charge were written in the mangled corpses around. +</p> +<p> +The fight had been maintained without any intermission from daybreak till +near nine o’clock that morning, and the slaughter on both sides was +dreadful. The mounds of fresh earth on every side told of the soldier’s +sepulchre; and the unceasing tramp of the pioneers struck sadly upon the +ear, as the groans of the wounded blended with the funeral sounds around +them. +</p> +<p> +In front were drawn up the dark legions of France,—massive columns +of infantry, with dense bodies of artillery alternating along the line. +They, too, occupied a gently rising ground, the valley between the two +armies being crossed half way by a little rivulet; and here, during the +sultry heat of the morning, the troops on both sides met and mingled to +quench their thirst ere the trumpet again called them to the slaughter. +</p> +<p> +In a small ravine near the centre of our line were drawn up Cotton’s +brigade, of whom the Fusiliers formed a part. Directly in front of this +were Campbell’s brigade, to the left of which, upon a gentle slope, the +staff were now assembled. Thither, accordingly, I bent my steps, and as I +came up the little scarp, found myself among the generals of division, +hastily summoned by Sir Arthur to deliberate upon a forward movement. The +council lasted scarcely a quarter of an hour, and when I presented myself +to deliver my report, all the dispositions for the battle had been decided +upon, and the commander of the forces, seated upon the grass at his +breakfast, looked by far the most unconcerned and uninterested man I had +seen that morning. +</p> +<p> +He turned his head rapidly as I came up, and before the aide-de-camp could +announce me, called out:— +</p> +<p> +“Well, sir, what news of the reinforcements?” + </p> +<p> +“They cannot reach Talavera before to-morrow, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Then, before that, we shall not want them. That will do, sir.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, he resumed his breakfast, and I retired, more than ever struck +with the surprising coolness of the man upon whom no disappointment seemed +to have the slightest influence. +</p> +<p> +I had scarcely rejoined my regiment, and was giving an account to my +brother officers of my journey, when an aide-de-camp came galloping at +full speed down the line, and communicating with the several commanding +officers as he passed. +</p> +<p> +What might be the nature of the orders we could not guess at; for no word +to fall in followed, and yet it was evident something of importance was at +hand. Upon the hill where the staff were assembled no unusual bustle +appeared; and we could see the bay cob of Sir Arthur still being led up +and down by the groom, with a dragoon’s mantle thrown over him. The +soldiers, overcome by the heat and fatigue of the morning, lay stretched +around upon the grass, and everything bespoke a period of rest and +refreshment. +</p> +<p> +“We are going to advance, depend upon it!” said a young officer beside me; +“the repulse of this morning has been a smart lesson to the French, and +Sir Arthur won’t leave them without impressing it upon them.” + </p> +<p> +“Hark, what’s that?” cried Baker; “listen!” + </p> +<p> +As he spoke, a strain of most delicious music came wafted across the +plain. It was from the band of a French regiment, and mellowed by the +distance, it seemed in the calm stillness of the morning air like +something less of earth than heaven. As we listened, the notes swelled +upwards yet fuller; and one by one the different bands seemed to join, +till at last the whole air seemed full of the rich flood of melody. +</p> +<p> +We could now perceive the stragglers were rapidly falling back, while high +above all other sounds the clanging notes of the trumpet were heard along +the line. The hoarse drum now beat to arms; and soon after a brilliant +staff rode slowly from between two dense bodies of infantry, and advancing +some distance into the plain, seemed to reconnoitre us. A cloud of Polish +cavalry, distinguished by their long lances and floating banners, loitered +in their rear. +</p> +<p> +We had not time for further observation, when the drums on our side beat +to arms, and the hoarse cry, “Fall in,—fall in there, lads!” + resounded along the line. +</p> +<p> +It was now one o’clock, and before half an hour the troops had resumed the +position of the morning, and stood silent and anxious spectators of the +scene before them. +</p> +<p> +Upon the table-land to the rear of the French position, we could descry +the gorgeous tent of King Joseph, around which a large and +splendidly-accoutred staff were seen standing. Here, too, the bustle and +excitement seemed considerable, for to this point the dark masses of the +infantry seemed converging from the extreme right; and here we could +perceive the royal guards and the reserve now forming in column of attack. +</p> +<p> +From the crest of the hill down to the very valley, the dark, dense ranks +extended, the flanks protected by a powerful artillery and deep masses of +heavy cavalry. It was evident that the attack was not to commence on our +side, and the greatest and most intense anxiety pervaded us as to what +part of our line was first to be assailed. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Sir Arthur Wellesley, who from the height had been patiently +observing the field of battle, despatched an aide-de-camp at full gallop +towards Campbell’s brigade, posted directly in advance of us. As he passed +swiftly along, he called out, “You’re in for it, Fourteenth; you’ll have +to open the ball to-day.” + </p> +<p> +Scarcely were the words spoken, when a signal gun from the French boomed +heavily through the still air. The last echo was growing fainter, and the +heavy smoke breaking into mist, when the most deafening thunder ever my +ears heard came pealing around us; eighty pieces of artillery had opened +upon us, sending a very tempest of balls upon our line, while midst the +smoke and dust we could see the light troops advancing at a run, followed +by the broad and massive columns in all the terror and majesty of war. +</p> +<p> +“What a splendid attack! How gallantly they come on!” cried an old veteran +officer beside me, forgetting all rivalry in his noble admiration of our +enemy. +</p> +<p> +The intervening space was soon passed, and the tirailleurs falling back as +the columns came on, the towering masses bore down upon Campbell’s +division with a loud cry of defiance. Silently and steadily the English +infantry awaited the attack, and returning the fire with one withering +volley, were ordered to charge. Scarcely were the bayonets lowered, when +the head of the advancing column broke and fled, while Mackenzie’s +brigade, overlapping the flank, pushed boldly forward, and a scene of +frightful carnage followed; for a moment a hand-to-hand combat was +sustained, but the unbroken files and impregnable bayonets of the English +conquered, and the French fled, leaving six guns behind them. +</p> +<p> +The gallant enemy were troops of tried and proved courage, and scarcely +had they retreated when they again formed; but just as they prepared to +come forward, a tremendous shower of grape opened upon them from our +batteries, while a cloud of Spanish horse assailed them in flank and +nearly cut them in pieces. +</p> +<p> +While this was passing on the right, a tremendous attack menaced the hill +upon which our left was posted. Two powerful columns of French infantry, +supported by some regiments of light cavalry, came steadily forward to the +attack; Anson’s brigade were ordered to charge. +</p> +<p> +Away they went at top speed, but had not gone above a hundred yards when +they were suddenly arrested by a deep chasm; here the German hussars +pulled short up, but the Twenty-third dashing impetuously forward; a scene +of terrific carnage ensued, men and horses rolling indiscriminately +together under a withering fire from the French squares. Even here, +however, British valor quailed not, for Major Francis Ponsonby, forming +all who came up, rode boldly upon a brigade of French chasseurs in the +rear. Victor, who from the first had watched the movement, at once +despatched a lancer regiment against them, and then these brave fellows +were absolutely cut to atoms, the few who escaped having passed through +the French columns and reached Bassecour’s Spanish division on the far +right. +</p> +<p> +During this time the hill was again assailed, and even more desperately +than before; while Victor himself led on the fourth corps to an attack +upon our right and centre. +</p> +<p> +The Guards waited without flinching the impetuous rush of the advancing +columns, and when at length within a short distance, dashed forward with +the bayonet, driving everything before them. The French fell back upon +their sustaining masses, and rallying in an instant, again came forward, +supported by a tremendous fire from their batteries. The Guards drew back, +and the German Legion, suddenly thrown into confusion, began to retire in +disorder. This was the most critical moment of the day, for although +successful upon the extreme right and left of our line, our centre was +absolutely broken. Just at this moment Gordon rode up to our brigade; his +face was pale, and his look flurried and excited. +</p> +<p> +“The Forty-eighth are coming; here they are,—support them, +Fourteenth.” + </p> +<p> +These few words were all he spoke; and the next moment the measured tread +of a column was heard behind us. On they came like one man, their compact +and dense formation looking like some massive wall; wheeling by companies, +they suffered the Guards and Germans to retire behind them, and then, +reforming into line, they rushed forward with the bayonet. Our artillery +opened with a deafening thunder behind them, and then we were ordered to +charge. +</p> +<p> +We came on at a trot; the Guards, who had now recovered their formation, +cheered us as we proceeded. The smoke of the cannonade obscured everything +until we had advanced some distance, but just as we emerged beyond the +line of the gallant Forty-eighth, the splendid panorama of the +battle-field broke suddenly upon us. +</p> +<p> +“Charge, forward!” cried the hoarse voice of our colonel; and we were upon +them. The French infantry, already broken by the withering musketry of our +people, gave way before us, and unable to form a square, retired fighting +but in confusion, and with tremendous loss, to their position. One +glorious cheer, from left to right of our line, proclaimed the victory, +while a deafening discharge of artillery from the French replied to this +defiance, and the battle was over. Had the Spanish army been capable of a +forward movement, our successes at this moment would have been much more +considerable; but they did not dare to change their position, and the +repulse of our enemy was destined to be all our glory. The French, +however, suffered much more severely than we did; and retiring during the +night, fell back behind the Alberche, leaving us the victory and the +battle-field. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0066" id="link2HCH0066"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LXVI. +</h2> +<p> +NIGHT AFTER TALAVERA. +</p> +<p> +The night which followed the battle was a sad one. Through the darkness, +and under a fast-falling rain, the hours were spent in searching for our +wounded comrades amidst the heap of slain upon the field; and tho +glimmering of the lanterns, as they flickered far and near across the wide +plain, bespoke the track of the fatigue parties in their mournful round; +while the groans of the wounded rose amidst the silence with an accent of +heart-rending anguish; so true was it, as our great commander said, “There +is nothing more sad than a victory, except a defeat.” + </p> +<p> +Around our bivouac fires, the feeling of sorrowful depression was also +evident. We had gained a great victory, it was true: we had beaten the +far-famed legions of France upon a ground of their own choosing, led by +the most celebrated of their marshals and under the eyes of the Emperor’s +own brother; but still we felt all the hazardous daring of our position, +and had no confidence whatever in the courage or discipline of our allies; +and we saw that in the very <i>mêlée</i> of the battle the efforts of the +enemy were directed almost exclusively against our line, so confidently +did they undervalue the efforts of the Spanish troops. Morning broke at +length, and scarcely was the heavy mist clearing away before the red +sunlight, when the sounds of fife and drum were heard from a distant part +of the field. The notes swelled or sank as the breeze rose or fell, and +many a conjecture was hazarded as to their meaning, for no object was well +visible for more than a few hundred yards off; gradually, however, they +grew nearer and nearer, and at length, as the air cleared, and the hazy +vapor evaporated, the bright scarlet uniform of a British regiment was +seen advancing at a quick-step. +</p> +<p> +As they came nearer, the well-known march of the gallant 43d was +recognized by some of our people, and immediately the rumor fled like +lightning: “It is Crawfurd’s brigade!” and so it was; the noble fellow had +marched his division the unparalleled distance of sixty English miles in +twenty-seven hours. Over a burning sandy soil, exposed to a raging sun, +without rations, almost without water, these gallant troops pressed on in +the unwearied hope of sharing the glory of the battle-field. One +tremendous cheer welcomed the head of the column as they marched past, and +continued till the last file had deployed before us. +</p> +<p> +As these splendid regiments moved by we could not help feeling what signal +service they might have rendered us but a few hours before. Their +soldier-like bearing, their high and effective state of discipline, their +well-known reputation, were in every mouth; and I scarcely think that any +corps who stood the brunt of the mighty battle were the subject of more +encomium than the brave fellows who had just joined us. +</p> +<p> +The mournful duties of the night were soon forgotten in the gay and +buoyant sounds on every side. Congratulations, shaking of hands, kind +inquiries, went round; and as we looked to the hilly ground where so +lately were drawn up in battle array the dark columns of our enemy, and +where not one sentinel now remained, the proud feeling of our victory came +home to our hearts with the ever-thrilling thought, “What will they say at +home?” + </p> +<p> +I was standing amidst a group of my brother officers, when I received an +order from the colonel to ride down to Talavera for the return of our +wounded, as the arrival of the commander-in-chief was momentarily looked +for. I threw myself upon my horse, and setting out at a brisk pace, soon +reached the gates. +</p> +<p> +On entering the town, I was obliged to dismount and proceed on foot. The +streets were completely filled with people, treading their way among +wagons, forage carts, and sick-litters. Here was a booth filled with all +imaginable wares for sale; there was a temporary gin-shop established +beneath a broken baggage-wagon; here might be seen a merry party throwing +dice for a turkey or a kid; there, a wounded man, with bloodless cheek and +tottering step, inquiring the road to the hospital. The accents of agony +mingled with the drunken chorus, and the sharp crack of the +provost-marshal’s whip was heard above the boisterous revelling of the +debauchee. All was confusion, bustle, and excitement. The staff officer, +with his flowing plume and glittering epaulettes, wended his way on foot, +amidst the din and bustle, unnoticed and uncared for; while the little +drummer amused an admiring audience of simple country-folk by some +wondrous tale of the great victory. +</p> +<p> +My passage through this dense mass was necessarily a slow one. No one made +way for another; discipline for the time was at an end, and with it all +respect for rank or position. It was what nothing of mere vicissitude in +the fortune of war can equal,—the wild orgies of an army the day +after a battle. +</p> +<p> +On turning the corner of a narrow street, my attention was attracted by a +crowd which, gathered round a small fountain, seemed, as well as I could +perceive, to witness some proceeding with a more than ordinary interest. +Exclamations in Portuguese, expressive of surprise and admiration, wore +mingled with English oaths and Irish ejaculations, while high above all +rose other sounds,—the cries of some one in pain and suffering; +forcing my way through the dense group, I at length reached the interior +of the crowd when, to my astonishment, I perceived a short, fat, +punchy-looking man, stripped of his coat and waist-coat, and with his +shirt-sleeves rolled up to his shoulder, busily employed in operating upon +a wounded soldier. Amputation knives, tourniquets, bandages, and all other +imaginable instruments for giving or alleviating torture were strewed +about him, and from the arrangement and preparation, it was clear that he +had pitched upon this spot as an hospital for his patients. While he +continued to perform his functions with a singular speed and dexterity, he +never for a moment ceased a running fire of small talk, now addressed to +the patient in particular, now to the crowd at large, sometimes a +soliloquy to himself, and not unfrequently, abstractedly, upon things in +general. These little specimens of oratory, delivered in such a place at +such a time, and, not least of all, in the richest imaginable Cork accent, +were sufficient to arrest my steps, and I stopped for some time to observe +him. +</p> +<p> +The patient, who was a large, powerfully-built fellow, had been wounded in +both legs by the explosion of a shell, but yet not so severely as to +require amputation. +</p> +<p> +“Does that plaze you, then?” said the doctor, as he applied some powerful +caustic to a wounded vessel; “there’s no satisfying the like of you. Quite +warm and comfortable ye’ll be this morning after that. I saw the same +shell coming, and I called out to Maurice Blake, ‘By your leave, Maurice, +let that fellow pass, he’s in a hurry!’ and faith, I said to myself, +‘there’s more where you came from,—you’re not an only child, and I +never liked the family.’ What are ye grinning for, ye brown thieves?” This +was addressed to the Portuguese. “There, now, keep the limb quiet and +easy. Upon my conscience, if that shell fell into ould Lundy Foot’s shop +this morning, there’d be plenty of sneezing in Sacksville Street. Who’s +next?” said he, looking round with an expression that seemed to threaten +that if no wounded man was ready he was quite prepared to carve out a +patient for himself. Not exactly relishing the invitation in the searching +that accompanied it, I backed my way through the crowd, and continued my +path towards the hospital. +</p> +<p> +Here the scene which presented itself was shocking beyond belief,—frightful +and ghastly wounds from shells and cannon-shot were seen on all sides, +every imaginable species of suffering that man is capable of was presented +to view; while amidst the dead and dying, operations the most painful were +proceeding with a haste and bustle that plainly showed how many more +waited their turn for similar offices. The stairs were blocked up with +fresh arrivals of wounded men, and even upon the corridors and +landing-places the sick were strewn on all sides. +</p> +<p> +I hurried to that part of the building where my own people were, and soon +learned that our loss was confined to about fourteen wounded; five of them +were officers. But fortunately, we lost not a man of our gallant fellows, +and Talavera brought us no mourning for a comrade to damp the exultation +we felt in our victory. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0067" id="link2HCH0067"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LXVII. +</h2> +<p> +THE OUTPOST. +</p> +<p> +During the three days which succeeded the battle, all things remained as +they were before. The enemy had gradually withdrawn all his forces, and +our most advanced pickets never came in sight of a French detachment. +Still, although we had gained a great victory, our situation was anything +but flattering. The most strenuous exertions of the commissariat were +barely sufficient to provision the troops; and we had even already but too +much experience of how little trust or reliance could be reposed in the +most lavish promises of our allies. It was true, our spirits failed us +not; but it was rather from an implicit and never-failing confidence in +the resources of our great leader, than that any among us could see his +way through the dense cloud of difficulty and danger that seemed to +envelop us on every side. +</p> +<p> +To add to the pressing emergency of our position, we learned on the +evening of the 31st that Soult was advancing from the north, and at the +head of fourteen thousand chosen troops in full march upon Placentia; thus +threatening our rear, at the very moment too, when any further advance was +evidently impossible. +</p> +<p> +On the morning of the 1st of August, I was ordered, with a small party, to +push forward in the direction of the Alberche, upon the left bank of which +it was reported that the French were again concentrating their forces, and +if possible, to obtain information of their future movements. Meanwhile +the army was about to fall back upon Oropesa, there to await Soult’s +advance, and if necessary, to give him battle; Cuesta engaging with his +Spaniards to secure Talavera, with its stores and hospitals, against any +present movement from Victor. +</p> +<p> +After a hearty breakfast, and a kind “Good-by!” from my brother officers, +I set out. My road along the Tagus, for several miles of the way, was a +narrow path scarped from the rocky ledge of the river, shaded by rich +olive plantations that throw a friendly shade over us during the noonday +heat. +</p> +<p> +We travelled along silently, sparing our cattle from time to time, but +endeavoring ere nightfall to reach Torrijos, in which village we had heard +several French soldiers were in hospital. Our information leading us to +believe them very inadequately guarded, we hoped to make some prisoners, +from whom the information we sought could in all likelihood be obtained. +More than once during the day our road was crossed by parties similar to +our own, sent forward to reconnoitre; and towards evening a party of the +23d Light Dragoons, returning towards Talavera, informed us that the +French had retired from Torrijos, which was now occupied by an English +detachment under my old friend O’Shaughnessy. +</p> +<p> +I need not say with what pleasure I heard this piece of news, and eagerly +pressed forward, preferring the warm shelter and hospitable board the +major was certain of possessing, to the cold blast and dripping grass of a +bivouac. Night, however, fell fast; darkness, without an intervening +twilight, set in, and we lost our way. A bleak table-land with here and +there a stunted, leafless tree was all that we could discern by the pale +light of a new moon. An apparently interminable heath uncrossed by path or +foot-track was before us, and our jaded cattle seemed to feel the dreary +uncertainty of the prospect as sensitively as ourselves,—stumbling +and over-reaching at every step. +</p> +<p> +Cursing my ill-luck for such a misadventure, and once more picturing to my +mind the bright blazing hearth and smoking supper I had hoped to partake +of, I called a halt, and prepared to pass the night. My decision was +hastened by finding myself suddenly in a little grove of pine-trees whose +shelter was not to be despised; besides that, our bivouac fires were now +sure of being supplied. +</p> +<p> +It was fortunate the night was fine, though dark. In a calm, still +atmosphere, when not a leaf moved nor a branch stirred, we picketed our +tired horses, and shaking out their forage, heaped up in the midst a +blazing fire of the fir-tree. Our humble supper was produced, and even +with the still lingering revery of the major and his happier destiny, I +began to feel comfortable. +</p> +<p> +My troopers, who probably had not been flattering their imaginations with +such <i>gourmand</i> reflections and views, sat happily around their +cheerful blaze, chatting over the great battle they had so lately +witnessed, and mingling their stories of some comrade’s prowess with +sorrows for the dead and proud hopes for the future. In the midst, upon +his knees beside the flame, was Mike, disputing, detailing, guessing, and +occasionally inventing,—all his arguments only tending to one view +of the late victory: “That it was the Lord’s mercy the most of the 48th +was Irish, or we wouldn’t be sitting there now!” + </p> +<p> +Despite Mr. Free’s conversational gifts, however, his audience one by one +dropped off in sleep, leaving him sole monarch of the watch-fire, and—what +he thought more of—a small brass kettle nearly full of +brandy-and-water. This latter, I perceived, he produced when all was +tranquil, and seemed, as he cast a furtive glance around, to assure +himself that he was the only company present. +</p> +<p> +Lying some yards off, I watched him for about an hour, as he sat rubbing +his hands before the blaze, or lifting the little vessel to his lips; his +droll features ever and anon seeming acted upon by some passing dream of +former devilment, as he smiled and muttered some sentences in an +under-voice. Sleep at length overpowered me; but my last waking thoughts +were haunted with a singular ditty by which Mike accompanied himself as he +kept burnishing the buttons of my jacket before the fire, now and then +interrupting the melody by a recourse to the copper. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well; you’re clean enough now, and sure it’s little good +brightening you up, when you’ll be as bad to-morrow. Like his father’s +son, devil a lie in it! Nothing would serve him but his best blue jacket +to fight in, as if the French was particular what they killed us in. +Pleasant trade, upon my conscience! Well, never mind. That’s beautiful <i>sperets</i>, +anyhow. Your health, Mickey Free; it’s yourself that stands to me. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“It’s little for glory I care; +Sure ambition is only a fable; +I’d as soon be myself as Lord Mayor, +With lashings of drink on the table. +I like to lie down in the sun +And <i>drame</i>, when my <i>faytures</i> is scorchin’ +That when I’m too <i>ould</i> for more fun, +Why, I’ll marry a wife with a fortune. + +“And in winter, with bacon and eggs, +And a place, at the turf-fire basking, +Sip my punch as I roasted my legs, +Oh, the devil a more I’d be asking! +For I haven’t a <i>janius</i> for work,— +It was never the gift of the Bradies,— +But I’d make a most <i>illigant</i> Turk, +For I’m fond of tobacco and ladies.” + </pre> +<p> +This confounded <i>refrain</i> kept ringing through my dream, and “tobacco +and ladies” mingled with my thoughts of storm and battle-field long after +their very gifted author had composed himself to slumber. +</p> +<p> +Sleep, and sound sleep, came at length, and many hours elapsed ere I +awoke. When I did so, my fire was reduced to its last embers. Mike, like +the others, had sunk in slumber, and midst the gray dawn that precedes the +morning, I could just perceive the dark shadows of my troopers as they lay +in groups around. +</p> +<p> +The fatigues of the previous day had so completely overcome me, that it +was with difficulty I could arouse myself so far as to heap fresh logs +upon the fire. This I did with my eyes half closed, and in that listless, +dreamy state which seems the twilight of sleep. +</p> +<p> +I managed so much, however, and was returning to my couch beneath a tree, +when suddenly an object presented itself to my eyes that absolutely rooted +me to the spot. At about twenty or thirty yards distant, where but the +moment before the long line of horizon terminated the view, there now +stood a huge figure of some ten or twelve feet in height,—two heads, +which surmounted this colossal personage, moved alternately from side to +side, while several arms waved loosely to and fro in the most strange and +uncouth manner. My first impression was that a dream had conjured up this +distorted image; but when I had assured myself by repeated pinchings and +shakings that I was really awake, still it remained there. I was never +much given to believe in ghosts; but even had I been so, this strange +apparition must have puzzled me as much as ever, for it could not have +been the representative of anything I ever heard of before. +</p> +<p> +A vague suspicion that some French trickery was concerned, induced me to +challenge it in French; so, without advancing a step, I halloed out, “<i>Qui +va là</i>?” + </p> +<p> +My voice aroused a sleeping soldier, who, springing up beside me, had his +carbine at the cock; while, equally thunderstruck with myself, he gazed at +the monster. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Qui va là</i>?” shouted I again, and no answer was returned, when +suddenly the huge object wheeled rapidly around, and without waiting for +any further parley, made for the thicket. +</p> +<p> +The tramp of a horse’s feet now assured me as to the nature of at least +part of the spectacle, when click went the trigger behind me, and the +trooper’s ball rushed whistling through the brushwood. In a moment the +whole party were up and stirring. +</p> +<p> +“This way, lads!” cried I, as drawing my sabre, I dashed into the pine +wood. +</p> +<p> +For a few moments all was dark as midnight; but as we proceeded farther, +we came out upon a little open space which commanded the plain beneath for +a great extent. +</p> +<p> +“There it goes!” said one of the men, pointing to a narrow, beaten path, +in which the tall figure moved at a slow and stately pace, while still the +same wild gestures of heads and limbs continued. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t fire, men! don’t fire!” I cried, “but follow me,” as I set forward +as hard as I could. +</p> +<p> +As we neared it, the frantic gesticulations grew more and more remarkable, +while some stray words, which we half caught, sounded like English in our +ears. We were now within pistol-shot distance, when suddenly the horse—for +that much at least we were assured of—stumbled and fell forward, +precipitating the remainder of the object headlong into the road. +</p> +<p> +In a second we were upon the spot, when the first sounds which greeted me +were the following, uttered in an accent by no means new to me:— +</p> +<p> +“Oh, blessed Virgin! Wasn’t it yourself that threw me in the mud, or my +nose was done for? Shaugh, Shaugh, my boy, since we are taken, tip them +the blarney, and say we’re generals of division!” + </p> +<p> +I need not say with what a burst of laughter I received this very original +declaration. +</p> +<p> +“I ought to know that laugh,” cried a voice I at once knew to be my friend +O’Shaughnessy’s. “Are you Charles O’Malley, by any chance in life?” + </p> +<p> +“The same, Major, and delighted to meet you; though, faith, we were near +giving you a rather warm reception. What, in the Devil’s name, did you +represent, just now?” + </p> +<p> +“Ask Maurice, there, bad luck to him. I wish the Devil had him when he +persuaded me into it.” + </p> +<p> +“Introduce me to your friend,” replied the other, rubbing his shins as he +spoke. “Mr. O’Mealey,”—so he called me,—“I think. Happy to +meet you; my mother was a Ryan of Killdooley, married to a first cousin of +your father’s before she took Mr. Quill, my respected progenitor. I’m Dr. +Quill of the 48th, more commonly called Maurice Quill. Tear and ages! how +sore my back is! It was all the fault of the baste, Mr. O’Mealey. We set +out in search of you this morning, to bring you back with us to Torrijos, +but we fell in with a very pleasant funeral at Barcaventer, and joined +them. They invited us, I may say, to spend the day; and a very jovial day +it was. I was the chief mourner, and carried a very big candle through the +village, in consideration of as fine a meat-pie, and as much lush as my +grief permitted me to indulge in afterwards. But, my dear sir, when it was +all finished, we found ourselves nine miles from our quarters; and as +neither of us were in a very befitting condition for pedestrian exercise, +we stole one of the leaders out of the hearse,—velvet, plumes, and +all,—and set off home. +</p> +<p> +“When we came upon your party we were not over clear whether you were +English, Portuguese, or French, and that was the reason I called out to +you, ‘God save all here!’ in Irish. Your polite answer was a shot, which +struck the old horse in the knee, and although we wheeled about in +double-quick, we never could get him out of his professional habits on the +road. He had a strong notion he was engaged in another funeral,—as +he was very likely to be,—and the devil a bit faster than a dead +march could we get him to, with all our thrashing. Orderly time for men in +a hurry, with a whole platoon blazing away behind them! But long life to +the cavalry, they never hit anything!” + </p> +<p> +While he continued to run on in this manner, we reached our watch-fire, +when what was my surprise to discover, in my newly-made acquaintance, the +worthy doctor I had seen a day or two before operating at the fountain at +Talavera. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Mr. O’Mealey,” said he, as he seated himself before the blaze, +“What is the state of the larder? Anything savory,—anything +drink-inspiring to be had?” + </p> +<p> +“I fear, Doctor, my fare is of the very humblest; still—” + </p> +<p> +“What are the fluids, Charley?” cried the major; “the cruel performance I +have been enacting on that cursed beast has left me in a fever.” + </p> +<p> +“This was a pigeon-pie, formerly,” said Dr. Quill, investigating the +ruined walls of a pasty; “and,—but come, here’s a duck; and if my +nose deceive me not, a very tolerable ham. Peter—Larry—Patsy—What’s +the name of your familiar there?” + </p> +<p> +“Mickey—Mickey Free.” + </p> +<p> +“Mickey Free, then; come here, avick! Devise a little drink, my son,—none +of the weakest—no lemon—-hot! You understand, hot! That chap +has an eye for punch; there’s no mistaking an Irish fellow, Nature has +endowed them richly,—fine features and a beautiful absorbent system! +That’s the gift! Just look at him, blowing up the fire,—isn’t he a +picture? Well, O’Mealey, I was fretting that we hadn’t you up at Torrijos; +we were enjoying life very respectably,—we established a little +system of small tithes upon fowl, sheep, pigs’ heads, and wine skins that +throve remarkably for the time. Here’s the lush! Put it down there, +Mickey, in the middle; that’s right. Your health, Shaugh. O’Mealey, here’s +a troop to you; and in the mean time I’ll give you a chant:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘Come, ye jovial souls, don’t over the bowl be sleeping, +Nor let the grog go round like a cripple creeping; +If your care comes, up, in the liquor sink it, +Pass along the lush, I’m the boy can drink it. +Isn’t that so, Mrs. Mary Callaghan? +Isn’t that so, Mrs. Mary Callaghan?’ +</pre> +<p> +“Shaugh, my hearty, this begins to feel comfortable.” + </p> +<p> +“Your man, O’Mealey, has a most judicious notion of punch for a small +party; and though one has prejudices about a table, chairs, and that sort +of thing, take my word for it, it’s better than fighting the French, any +day.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, Charley, it certainly did look quite awkward enough the other day +towards three o’clock, when the Legion fell back before that French +column, and broke the Guards behind them.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, you’re quite right; but I think every one felt that the confusion +was but momentary,—the gallant Forty-eighth was up in an instant.” + </p> +<p> +“Faith, I can answer for their alacrity!” said the doctor “I was making my +way to the rear with all convenient despatch, when an aide-de-camp called +out,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Cavalry coming! Take care, Forty-eighth!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Left face, wheel! Fall in there, fall in there!’ I heard on every side, +and soon found myself standing in a square, with Sir Arthur himself and +Hill and the rest of them all around me. +</p> +<p> +“‘Steady, men! Steady, now!’ said Hill, as he rode around the ranks, while +we saw an awful column of cuirassiers forming on the rising ground to our +left. +</p> +<p> +“‘Here they come!’ said Sir Arthur, as the French came powdering along, +making the very earth tremble beneath them. +</p> +<p> +“My first thought was, ‘The devils are mad, and they’ll ride down into us, +before they know they’re kilt!’ And sure enough, smash into our first rank +they pitched, sabring and cutting all before them; when at last the word +‘Fire!’ was given, and the whole head of the column broke like a shell, +and rolled horse over man on the earth. +</p> +<p> +“‘Very well done! very well, indeed!’ said Sir Arthur, turning as coolly +round to me as if he was asking for more gravy. +</p> +<p> +“‘Mighty well done!’ said I, in reply; and resolving not to be outdone in +coolness, I pulled out my snuff-box and offered him a pinch, saying, ‘The +real thing, Sir Arthur; our own countryman,—blackguard.’ +</p> +<p> +“He gave a little grim kind of a smile, took a pinch, and then called out,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Let Sherbroke advance!’ while turning again towards me, he said, ‘Where +are your people, Colonel?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Colonel!’ thought I; ‘is it possible he’s going to promote me?’ But +before I could answer, he was talking to another. Meanwhile Hill came up, +and looking at me steadily, burst out with,— +</p> +<p> +“‘Why the devil are you here, sir? Why ain’t you at the rear?’ +</p> +<p> +“‘Upon my conscience,’ said I, ‘that’s the very thing I’m puzzling myself +about this minute! But if you think it’s pride in me, you’re greatly +mistaken, for I’d rather the greatest scoundrel in Dublin was kicking me +down Sackville Street, than be here now!’ +</p> +<p> +“You’d think it was fun I was making, if you heard how they all laughed, +Hill and Cameron and the others louder than any. +</p> +<p> +“‘Who is he?’ said Sir Arthur, quickly. +</p> +<p> +“‘Dr. Quill, surgeon of the Thirty-third, where I exchanged, to be near my +brother, sir, in the Thirty-fourth.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘A doctor,—a surgeon! That fellow a surgeon! Damn him, I took him +for Colonel Grosvenor! I say, Gordon, these medical officers must be +docked of their fine feathers, there’s no knowing them from the staff,—look +to that in the next general order.’ +</p> +<p> +“And sure enough they left us bare and naked the next morning; and if the +French sharpshooters pick us down now, devil mend them for wasting powder, +for if they look in the orderly books, they’ll find their mistake.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, Maurice, Maurice!” said Shaugh, with a sigh, “you’ll never improve,—you’ll +never improve!” + </p> +<p> +“Why the devil would I?” said he. “Ain’t I at the top of my profession—full +surgeon—with nothing to expect, nothing to hope for? Oh, if I had +only remained in the light company, what wouldn’t I be now?” + </p> +<p> +“Then you were not always a doctor?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Upon my conscience, I wasn’t,” said he. “When Shaugh knew me first, I was +the Adonis of the Roscommon militia, with more heiresses in my list than +any man in the regiment; but Shaugh and myself were always unlucky.” + </p> +<p> +“Poor Mrs. Rogers!” said the major, pathetically, drinking off his glass +and heaving a profound sigh. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, the darling!” said the doctor. “If it wasn’t for a jug of punch that +lay on the hall table, our fortune in life would be very different.” + </p> +<p> +“True for you, Maurice!” quoth O’Shaughnessy. +</p> +<p> +“I should like much to hear that story,” said I, pushing the jug briskly +round. +</p> +<p> +“He’ll tell it you,” said O’Shaughnessy, lighting his cigar, and leaning +pensively back against a tree,—“he’ll tell it you.” + </p> +<p> +“I will, with pleasure,” said Maurice. “Let Mr. Free, meantime, amuse +himself with the punch-bowl, and I’ll relate it.” + </p> +<p> +END OF VOLUME I. +</p> +<div style="height: 6em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Charles O’Malley, The Irish Dragoon, +Volume 1 (of 2), by Charles Lever + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLES O’MALLEY, I. *** + +***** This file should be named 8577-h.htm or 8577-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/8/5/7/8577/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team. 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